Excerpt:
“Oh you know, same ol’, same ol’,
still working on that whole transmutation thing. Can’t quite get it down. Can’t
quite get it … still trying … still might … still …” His voice trails off as he
furrows his brow, apparently lost in the intricacies of some possibility known
only to him.
Ambrose
tries again. “Morie, I’d like you to
meet Banshooo. He has an interesting story to tell.”
The
alchemist comes back to the moment, squinting anew at Banshooo. “Ah yes, yes,
very nice. Very nice.” He removes a pile
of books from a thread-bare couch, looking about near-sightedly. “I think maybe
I’ve got some sherry around here someplace.”
“That’s
not necessary, really.” Ambrose smiles, eyeing a shelf of cob-webby wine
glasses sitting next to a bottle marked sulfuric acid. “We just want to talk.”
“Talk?
With me? How nice. Yes, very nice, very nice.”
Ambrose
nudges Banshooo. “Go ahead. Morienus knows about these things.”
Banshooo
looks at this old man whose long white beard appears to have been used for a
napkin. He knows alchemy was once a respected field of study but not anymore,
something to do with a failure to turn things into gold. This wrinkled dusty
old guy appears to be the last of his kind.
Banshooo
hesitates but Ambrose nods encouragingly. “Go on, talk to him.” And so the
monkey tells the alchemist about the sound that washed over him in the meadow.
Morie listens intently, his palms together, his fingers against his chin. Now
he nods, thoughtfully, then says,
“Ah yes. That could be. A sound wave is a physical force. Vibratory
resonance can open up a state of awareness beyond the usual everyday state.”
Banshooo nods. “Yes, that’s what happened.
After the sound came, I was able to see something else, something I couldn’t
see just walking around normally.”
“And
what was that?”
“Well,
the first time I saw … dying. So much dying.” He lowers his head. “Extinction everywhere.”
“And
the second time?”
“The
second time I saw …” He pauses.
The
alchemist raises his bushy eyebrows. “You saw what?”
Banshooo
looks at Ambrose who nods reassuringly. He continues. “I remembered what
happened when my mother died.”
“Hmmm.” Morie speaks slowly, almost to himself. “This
could be a case of resonance, of limbic resonance activating a matched filter.”
Banshooo
frowns. “What does that mean?”
Morie
leans back. “Experience creates a vibration that stays within you. That
vibration is a kind of tone, reverberating to certain pitches, certain events
and beings. It acts almost like an antenna, picking up one kind of transmission
but deaf to others. In effect, everyone is an antenna, vibrating with their own
individual experiences.” He puts his gnarled, veined hands on the arms of the
chair and lifts himself up, walking slowly around the room.
“At
the same time, sound waves are constantly moving through space, looking for
something that will receive them. When they find a match,” he stops and brings
his hands together, “we resonate.” He gives a little half-smile. “In effect,
beings are like old-fashioned radio receivers, calibrated to pick up one signal
and filter out the others, looking for the frequency that will resonate, that
will match.” He looks at Banshooo. “A sound can remind you of something you
know, even if you don’t know you know it, enlivening something hidden within
you, for good or for ill.”
Banshooo’s
eyes are wide. “It felt like that, like something reverberating in me. Like
something alive.”
“So
what happened in this re-“ he pauses, “membering?”
Banshooo
looks up at Morie, ready to tell this old man what he saw.
“My
mother was dead. She was cold. I was cold too. Really cold. Then a shadow came,
a shadow shaped like her. And it touched her. Then it touched me. And I wasn’t
cold anymore. I was all right.”
The
alchemist is squinting at Banshooo, his expression no longer one of patient
instructor. “Are you making this up? That wouldn’t be nice you know, to fool
with me.”
“No.
No. I’m not making anything up.” He looks at Ambrose who speaks firmly.
“He’s
not, Morie, I saw it too. A shadow bent down and touched them both. It was like
the deep heart of … something. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Morienus
sits back down in his chair with a stunned expression on his face. After
several silent moments he speaks quietly. “You saw a parayama, the highest
essence of a species. The one who comes for the dead.” His eyes narrow. “You’re
not supposed to see that unless ….”
“Unless
what?”
“Unless
you’re dead”
“He’s
not dead,” Ambrose says.
“I noticed that. It’s very puzzling.” The alchemist continues.
“The essence of the species appears only to that being who has died. You can’t
see the parayama that comes for another, you can only see the parayama that
comes for you.”
“But
I did. I saw it. I was alone and it protected me. And then there was a soft
kind of purring that turned into the most incredible music I’ve ever heard. No.
Not music, almost music, like music, but different … it was like they were
showing me things, unseen things. And I was safe. I was secure and safe.”
Ambrose
and Morienus look at each other. The owl makes a little shrugging motion,
“You’ve got to admit, it’s a miracle he survived. Once his mother died, he
might as well have had a sign pointed at his head saying ‘Free Lunch.’”
Morie
nods. “Yes, that’s true. That’s very true.”
Ambrose
speaks slowly as he considers this improbable possibility. “It must have been
your mother’s parayama. And it stayed to care for you. That’s a very rare
experience, Banshooo. That doesn’t usually happen.”
“Never,
actually.” Morie is staring at Banshooo. “It never happens.” He shakes his head
slowly and says it again. “Never.”
There
is a long pause as the ramifications of this statement float through the dingy
laboratory.
Q:What is it
about this book that makes it special?
A: I’m so
glad you asked this question because Threshold is really quite out of the
ordinary. It’s a 21st century fable, in the tradition of stories
like Aesop’s Fables, Animal Farm or Life of Pi.
But hidden in the fog of
everydayness, a great calamity is approaching. Our hero, Banshooo, (okay, so
he’s a monkey, but he’s also a brilliant scientist) has collected data showing
that the natural world is losing the stability necessary to sustain life. His
warnings are ignored by the authorities who are considering phasing out nature
altogether. With his quirky sidekick, Taboook, (a species one-off whose main
interest is eating,) Banshooo sets out on a journey beyond the surface of the
Seen world to bring back proof of the true nature of nature.
Fearing the monkey may have been
deconstructed in the Unseen world, his colleague, Sukie, (a mouse mathlete)
joins with Ambrose, a far-seeing owl, and Joe, (a disillusioned surveillance
employee) to develop a quantum computer program creating a 3-D Image revealing
the threads of infinite complexity that sustain all life, and confirming that
those threads are breaking apart. The Image is confiscated by the authorities
and the rebels are on the run.
Meanwhile, after overcoming many
obstacles and with the help of several mythic creatures and a fugitive raccoon,
Banshooo has a revelation that brings him to, and through, the threshold to the
Unseen world. There, he learns what is happening and why; he learns how stories
influence what is possible and how a new story is waiting to be told, and he
learns, much to his chagrin, that it’s up to him to tell it.
Banshooo and Taboook return to the
Seen world and join Sukie and the rebel alliance in a desperate effort to retrieve
the Image in time to save the beating heart of manifest energy. Will they
succeed in time to avert disaster?
Threshold is an eco-fantasy
proposing a new future in a land that mirrors our own.
I hope you like
it.
