XLVIII. Liquid Dreams
New Bene Gesserit, take this to heart: our traditional sneering at deep feelings, our obsession with rooting them out as they seek control of our minds. Can you truly live as disembodied brains, Sisters? Use, use our dark emotions - rage, fear and sadness - to fuel our transformation. Nourish the soul with joy, inspiration, desire, and love, yes love, this word that enslaves us the more we avoid it; can we treat them just as they are - the currents in the unstoppable river of life?
- DARWI ODRADE, THE BENE GESSERIT CODA
Murbella's saffron dress draped down in gentle ripples to the cobblestone in the interplay of light and shadow. Nothing felt more normal than sitting comfortably at the little cafe table next to a garden in bloom. A chirp made her turn to see a red robin on the lookout for small crumbs perched on a chair to her left. It smelled of spring. Only then she took notice of the other two dames sitting opposite her. The sun in her face confused their features.
"Odrade?"
"Murbella," was the calm reply. A large cherry tree framed the guests' faces as in an Impressionist painting; as large as a house its looming branches were covered with pink blossoms. The flowers gently moved in the breeze.
"This can't be one of your memories, Dar," Murbella concluded.
"There is much more to Other Memory than mere remembrances," replied the second woman, picking up a glass filled with a purple liquid, and a paper streamer. The simple hand movement betrayed its owner.
"Taraza." Not a question but a statement.
"Somebody must look after you from inside here," replied the former Mother Superior's reply.
"About time. I almost died out there," Murbella ventured, "or am I already one of you?"
"You are in Suspended Time, my dear. Be careful what you focus on, or else it will vanish my dear," said Odrade/Dar.
The smell of freshly cut grass wafted in their direction. Murbella's gaze focused on Dar, looking in her twenties, the daring eyes. Taraza also looked like a younger version of her self, but the same stern look which could hold the whole universe at bay.
Dar smiled. "To enjoy today while planning for tomorrow, the essential challenge of life," she said in the voice of the late Mother Superior. "The urge to survive elevates us, yet negates the little joys."
"Why did you call me here?" Murbella asked meekly.
"Why you called us here," interrupted Taraza, "in this Caladanian garden from the times of the Gurney Halleck's regency, to be precise. What questions do you have?"
"What would I ask you that I don't already know through Other Memory?"
"Well, this is your chance," replied Taraza.
No training nor awareness that the two women were part of her could avoid the searching gaze of the two most formidable Reverend Mothers in history. Murbella squealed like a girl and lowered her eyes.
"What advice do you have, Mother Superiors?"
Odrade extended out a hand to grasp a glass on the table. "This takes me back," she began, "to a memory. Look," she tilted the glass slightly, just enough for Murbella to look inside the swirling purple liquid, which dissolving into mist revealed a small room with desk and chairs where a short figure wearing novice robes sat sulkily, her face undescribed. The Reverend Mother Odrade was eyeing her from the adjacent room while discussing the girl with Tamalane, who said: "This novice is unsuitable for the aba. Unrealistically high expectations of herself, self-denial and lack of awareness. She is doing the right things for the wrong reasons and would rather try to copy, no: satisfy, her masters as opposed to becoming the grown up she is meant to be". Murbella stood back in her chair as the scene evaporated away. Then, glancing up into Odrade's exacting eyes: "The novice was me, wasn't it?"
Odrade smiled faintly. "You are still trying to please us, Sister dear. Stop honoring our lifeless husks. Nobody, not even our dull, wizened ego-representations in your memory, can tell you where to place your bets."
"Look at what Dar did", interjected Taraza, "Do you think I, Reverend Mother Superior Taraza, would have sent her to Rakis, had I divined she would merge the Sisterhoods?"
"So much responsibility, all at once," whispered Murbella.
"There is no school for Mother Superiors," replied Odrade, "no homework, and graduation is death."
"You improvised."
"Once upon a time a monk met Buddha on a trail."
"It is not a story but a saying," replied Murbella. "Should you meet Buddha on the road, slay him," she whispered, feeling like Odrade poked an exposed nerve to cause a pang of metaphysical pain.
"For how can one ever become Buddha by deferring to others?" Taraza doubled down.
"We belong to the history books, Murbella. The wise master always kills her teachers."
Murbella thought for some time. "Taraza, what were you thinking, when provoking the Honored Matres to destroy Rakis? Did you see how it got us from the pan and into the fire?"
"My victory against the Tyrant's chains came close to annihilating us completely," she admitted, "until Dar surprised us."
"Of all the plots you could come up with, you would not see a way for the Honored Matres to destroy the planet on the basis of somebody else's provocation? The Bene Tleilaxu alone were responsible for Duncan's sexual training, you could have let the blame fall on them, instead of initiating a conflict that killed millions of us!"
Taraza remained silent.
"And you, Dar," Murbella added, turning towards Odrade, "Why did you even consider becoming a subject to the Bene Tleilaxu? Solely for the sake of the axolotl tanks? And your Manifesto, sowing chaos among the established religion of Dur we could so easily control with Sheeana! And why did you wait until a handful of planets were left before punishing the Matres?"
Odrade did not answer, but reached forward to gently caress her face. "Our limits are not yours," she said. It was at that moment that a gust of wind shook the large cherry tree, so that thousands of white and pink blossoms took to the air swirling around the garden and the three ladies. The wind howled as it made the two Mother Superior's dresses flap in the wind. The reality around her started to melt away.
"Don't leave me..." Murbella begged.
"Where would we go?" said the two Bene Gesserit, kindly smiling. "And don't forget to bring a Face Dancer with you." And she blinked against the force of the wind, and then everything was cherry blossoms flying in the breeze, swirling in the breeze, a hurricane of petals where each one was a memory. A child's smile. Whispers of a loved one. Dancing in complete abandonment. There was sorrow too. Grief, and hunger and pain, all expanding into a rainbow of emotions that her life alone could never have encompassed fully, yet they were all there: cruelty, anger, fear, curiosity, loss, ecstasy, longing, and love, love, love across all those many existences, a desire to love and to create happiness, a love for life. You were right, Dar.
The blossoms evaporated like perfume.
She bade farewell to her internal world. And there was her body, her proprioception reawakened, she had legs, and fingers she could move… gurgling sounds around her, the body suspended and immersed in a fluid. Muffled sounds turned to a blaring noise as something mechanical grasped her head and pulled it up into the air. As her eyes adjusted to the blinding light, she saw rosy flesh walls, gray tubes seamlessly inserted into pulsing tissue, felt the sticky amniotic liquid swirling in bubbles around her. She touched her body, counted fingers to nine. As soon as her throat regained control, she commanded hoarsely: "Help me out of this tank, and find me Miles Teg."
It was time to go all in.