readbooksol Chapter 743 - 653: Sea of Mirrors
Chapter 743 - 653: Sea of Mirrors
How long is eternal time?
The wisest, oldest monk swayed his head as he struck the chime bowl.
"There is a Diamond Mountain: it takes one hour to climb over it, and one hour to climb back."
"Every hundred years, a little bird flies here to whet its beak upon Diamond Mountain."
"Only when the whole mountain has been worn flat will eternal time have passed by a single second."
The memories of the past rose and fell like the tide; for the woman, this question had already receded a very, very long time ago—so long that she had lived through an eternity.
Before her stretched a boundless sea as flat as a mirror; the wind carried a bitter, salty tang. She began to ponder why she had first set out on this journey.
So the woman sat upon the island, year after year, day after day; spring, summer, autumn, and winter turned in their cycle, and a very, very long time went by.
Until the sound of the surf beating against the shore roused her, and she realized this was the most turbulent moment of this sea.
The wax of the woman’s wings had melted. She took the small boat moored by the shore and once more set out on her journey.
Having passed through storms and the baptisms of time, through raging waves and all manner of ordeals, the woman returned again to this island.
She had failed to cross this sea; everything had returned to the starting point.
Compared with hundreds and thousands of years before, the island had changed very little. There was now a group of islanders living here. The moment they saw the woman, they greeted her warmly, as though they had long known her. The most respected among them invited the woman into the village.
The settlement was far more developed than the woman had imagined. The residents wore cotton-woven clothing and lived in houses built of brick and stone. In the village there was a blacksmith’s, a Church, and many artisans plying their crafts on either side of the street, while kerchiefed women passed by.
"This sea is like a mirror. We’ve tried many methods, and still cannot leave," the village chief said. "The most recent attempt was thirty years ago. We organized a fleet of five large sailing ships; three of them sank in these waters, and the remaining two circled a great loop only to return to this island."
The woman fell silent. She thought of all she had experienced in that canyon.
After brooding for a long time, she asked:
"Is it because this sea is very vast?"
The village chief smiled slightly:
"On the contrary, this sea is nowhere near as vast as you imagine. If a fleet could sail in a perfectly straight line, then in less than five months they would reach the end of these waters."
"That is the result of my calculations."
The village chief proudly showed the woman her measuring instruments: a crudely made telescope, and a triangular protractor.
The woman lowered her head and shook it.
"Is it because this sea is too much like a mirror?"
"Yes. The magnetic field here is in chaos, and together with the varying angles of light refraction on the sea surface at different times, all these factors interfere with a fleet’s navigation and judgment..." The chief’s expression grew grave.
"It’s as though an invisible hand were covering the sky above these waters, veiling our eyes, so that the ships cannot maintain a straight course and end up forever circling in this sea."
"Round and round we go, and in the end we return again to this island at the center of the sea."
"Since the daylight is too dazzling, why not try sailing at night?"
The village chief shook her head, a complicated look crossing her face.
"Whenever night falls, if our sailors gaze straight at the sea, they see, through the mirror, the fears in the depths of their hearts; they fall into madness. They believe a Sea Siren lurks on the seabed, waiting to seize their souls."
The chief took from her bosom a delicate, crystal-clear fruit. It looked full of juice, sweet and delicious.
"After that last voyage also ended in failure, we gave up trying to cross this sea."
"Every day, the fruit trees on the island bear these fruits. Even if we pick them all and distribute them one by one to every islander, the next day the trees will be laden with fruit again."
"At noon each day, clear spring water flows from the cracks between the stones in the woods. Our water source will never run dry."
"Even if we never leave, our descendants can live here on this island in peace and plenty for generations upon generations."
"Do you never feel empty inside?" the woman asked.
"Empty?" The chief shook her head. "We possess a rich imagination and creativity. We can paint the landscapes we see, write the stories we imagine. Long ago we already defeated that enemy."
"Why do you know who I am?" The woman finally voiced the question that had been troubling her.
"It was the Pioneer who brought us the springs and the fruit trees. He taught us knowledge and writing, taught us how to survive on this island," the chief said.
"He mentioned you to us."
The image of the Pioneer rose up in the woman’s mind; she hurriedly pressed on.
"Where is he now?"
"He bade us farewell a long time ago and set out on the road to cross this sea."
After this conversation, the woman lived in the village for a time. The chief’s words kept echoing in her ears. She began again to ponder the meaning of this journey. In the end she cast everything aside, resolved to catch up with the Prophet. One night she said farewell to the village and set out once more.
When she had once again circled round and round and returned to the village, a hundred years had passed. She saw a desolate settlement: people fighting with bloodshot eyes over a mouthful of food, the spring dried up and empty.
She was astonished by all this and could not fathom what had happened during the time she was gone.
So she hurried to the chief’s house and found a man already at death’s door, his back hunched, his face vacant.
Seeing her, the old man’s eyes opened wide.
"It’s... it’s you. My grandfather told me about you. You’ve come back."
The woman then understood that this was the village chief’s descendant.
The old man began to weep and complain: "After you left, one day a bolt of lightning struck the orchard. The fire was huge, and all the fruit trees were burned. We lost our food."
"The rock crevices that yielded clear springs were split open by lightning as well. We lost our water."
"This is Heaven’s punishment upon us..."
"This is Heaven’s punishment upon those who do not live by their own labor. Yet we already have no way to cross this sea."
"Leave here... leave here." The old man shook his head. Something seemed to occur to him, and his expression suddenly grew wild with agitation.
"The Pioneer came back once before you. He said he would chase the sun, he would seek the light!"
Having uttered this in great agitation, the old man breathed his last.
All returned to silence. This village was like a handful of sand, brushed away in the long river of time.
The woman set out on her journey for the third time.
This time, holding fast to the Pioneer’s words, she pursued the sun’s direction across the sky. Thousands of years passed: upon the calm sea a little wooden boat drifted. Tens of thousands of years passed: upon the raging sea that same little boat was still afloat.
A very, very long time went by—longer than her wandering on the Stone Path—so long that the woman’s senses grew numb; she had already forgotten the purpose of this journey and ceaselessly questioned the meaning of it all.
So long that the sea passed from surging to calm, and at last became like a pool of dead water; even the traces of the wind had vanished. Yet the sun’s direction in the sky never changed, hanging high and ever distant, forever out of reach...
The little boat still drifted upon this sea.
For the first time, the woman felt the stirrings of retreat, a wish to leave this place, but all around her there was only the sea, and an untouchable void.
The woman slowly lowered her head.
For the first time in her life,
she saw her own face in the mirror of the sea.