Chapter 4
The Arrival of Mister Poe
The Beginning of the End
From "A History of the 21st Century", by Zithembe Nkosi
Published by ZuluHeart Press, copyright 2120
Our ancestors built a grand global empire. Held together by a massive transportation network, a world wide computer network, and a global agricultural system, everyone in the world was tied to everyone else. Of course, it was not an empire in the sense of the old British Empire- there was not a single ruler, and no single group dictated politics. Recovered documents from that era suggest that most groups though their rival was secretly in control of the empire, but modern historians feel it is more likely that the bureaucrats were in control- and even they likely didn't act out of a sense of the big picture. In a sense, the global empire that dominated the mid and late 20th century and early 21th century ran itself like a mighty headless giant.
At it's height, the giant seemed invincible. And in many ways it was, being able to handle almost any one shock at a time. And so, it was many things all at once that killed the old world order. They should not have happened all at once, but they did. If one of the disasters had not happened or had happened at a different time, the old empire might have survived. I do not know whether this is a curse or a blessing.
In 2020, the Saudi Arabian government admitted that the Ghawar oil field - the largest oil field in the world- was functionally dry. The government admitted that they had concealed the true extent of the field's depletion, and now were unable to extract further oil even with the most advanced drilling methods available. Less than a month later the government was forced to admit that the Safaniya-Khafji Field, which was the country's second largest reserve, was also depleted. The Saudi Royal family lost control of the country in a matter of days following the second announcement, which further damaged the world oil supply.
This alone would have been bad enough- and records recovered from Wall Street computers indicate that the market went into a tail spin from the news- but a record storm season in the Gulf of Mexico had sidelined many offshore drilling operations for heavy repairs. This had become frustratingly common since the start of the 21st century, but together with the collapse of the Saudi Oil industry, the storm season was catastrophic.
The sudden loss of Saudi oil exports put huge pressure on other oil producing countries. Venezuela and Iran both fell quickly to military coups. The Venezuela coup is believed to have been an internal affair, but documents recovered from the site of the former Iranian government indicate that those in power when Iran fell blamed the United States for the coup. Consequently the oil production of both countries collapsed as battles were waged over who would control the flow of oil. Oil prices sky rocketed worldwide.
Saudi Arabia was the third largest supplier of oil to the United States at the time (formerly the second largest, Mexico had surpassed the Saudi's between 2008 and 2009), and the loss of the Saudi field put tremendous stress upon the US economy. Canada and Mexico, the two largest suppliers of oil to the United States struggled to keep up; but with the collapse of the Venezuelan government (the number four oil importer) the US economy was crippled. Driving become an economic impossibility for all but the richest people. airlines went bankrupt beyond even the ability of the government to protect. The Shipping industries ground to a stand still.
The USA sent troops into Kuwait to protect the Burgan field, and effectively annexed Kuwait in the process. Meanwhile the Cantarell field in Mexico, already declining at a rate of around 10% per year, was pushed to the breaking point by increased US demand.
This was the point of no return for the old order. At this point nations could be neatly divided into those who saw the writing on the wall and those who did not. Ironically, those nations who were then poor- and thus had less dependence upon oil- turned out to be in the best position of all.
This was the birth of Africa as part of the first world. It would not come to be for decades yet, but it was here that the winds first changed. As the USA, China, Russia and India fought over the dying scraps of oil, a few African leaders began planning and coordinating the greatest energy project in the history of the world.
This was the beginning of the end for North America as the first world.
* * *
... Twelve Years Earlier
May 4th, 2108
"Read it to me again."
Pike nodded to his brother. Cooper's eyes were closed as he spoke, and Pike knew that Cooper was doing so to concentrate on the colors that he saw when people spoke. Pike was fifteen now, and very close to being a warrior. Cooper was eight and although still unable to read at all- was quickly becoming brilliant in everything that he was allowed to do. Pike had started to cut his hair short and added bear grease to it in the mornings to shape the hair into spikes- a compromise between style and function. He rubbed his palms together and looked at his hands and the snowflakes branded onto his palms. One day he would have to tell Cooper about the what he had learned on his first vision quest- but for now Pike felt he could better protect his little brother by keeping it to himself. The brands still itched from time to time. He had only acquired them two years ago, and was still occasionally surprised when he looked at his hands and saw them there.
The children were sitting on a lightly wooded hill that overlooked the village and trail that led up to village entrance- a small trading post along the side of the road. The trail passed by the Trading Post as it snaked along the hillside heading north, but behind the trading post was a small foot trail that the led to the Edge Village itself.
Malika hung upside down from a tree branch beside the boys, trying to look disinterested. The brothers did not normally let other people watch while they studied. Malika was an exception, because she was Cooper's closest friend beside Pike himself.
Pike looked back to the book and read, "Synesthesia is a neurological disorder that causes the brain to perceive one sense as another. It is common for numbers and letters to seem colored even if they are not, and for sounds to generate colors and shapes before the eyes in people with synesthesia."
Coop was silent. It was a nice day, with a clear sky. But the wind was blowing and so it was a little cooler than normal.
"It said disorder," Coop said," So I'm broken in my brain. That's why I see colors."
That didn't make sense to Malika. Cooper was smart- too smart to have wrong with his brain.
"I think that the book is broken." She said aloud.
"Do yo feel broken?" Pike asked.
"No. Not really. I like the color thing most of the time. I mean, I didn't say that I was broken. The book said that I was broken."
"The book doesn't know anything. It's just a bunch of townee doctors from a hundred years ago."
"But synesthesia doesn't make letters move when you look at them, does it?" Cooper asked.
Pike scanned quickly through the whole section.
"Doesn't look like it."
Malika piped in, "Then maybe the book's wrong like I said. Just dumb townee doctors who don't know anything real."
Cooper shook his head, "It just means there's more than one thing wrong with me."
Pike looked at Cooper," I don't know if having this synesthesia means that anything is wrong. The way you describe it, it sounds like its useful even."
"Its also distracting, and sometimes, if it gets bad, the colors can block my vision."
"Okay, that could be a problem in the midst of battle."
"I get used to it."
Malika swung up to sit on top of the tree branch that she had been handing from, "I guess that's why you like it better being a scout."
Cooper nodded, "Its quieter."
"So how do you know this stuff is real?" Malika asked.
Pike saw Cooper wince and looked at Malika sharply, "It isn't real, that's the whole problem. Coop has at least two things wrong with his brain and how its wired together. One means he sees colors when he hears things, the other one means letters move around when he tries to read them. It's a problem because it means that Coop has to fight his brain to figure out what's real."
"It kind of weirds me out Coop, do you think its going to get worse?" Malika asked.
In answer, Cooper looked at Pike, who looked back down at the book. He scanned carefully for several minutes.
"It doesn't look like it gets worse."
Cooper was silent considering all of this.
"Okay," He said finally, "Let's move on to the memory book."
Pike nodded, " Well I looked at the table of contents already. There's a lot of stuff you already got hunted. The books starts with picture association and mental pegs. It does memory journeys and memory mansions. But they have something here that we've read about but never seen the system for before- the Major System"
Cooper nodded, "It used letters didn't it? We're going to have to adapt it for somebody who can't read."
"Can you use colors instead of of letters?" Malika asked, "I mean if your brain likes colors, shouldn't that make it easier?"
The two boys looked at each other, and Cooper smiled. Finally Pike spoke, "We'll need to read the section first to see."
As the children were struggling with the memory system at tall red capped figure swung around the bend of the trail below and into view. The children looked down at the figure on the path and stopped talking. They were quiet as the tall figure in the red hat and the black cloak swayed gracefully along the trail, a large dog at his side.
Malika spoke first, "It's Mister Poe."
Mister Poe was as tall at the chest as most men were at the shoulders and thin as a daddy longlegs. He wore a red top hat with a snow goose feather in the brim and and a rat skull sewn onto the black ribbon that wrapped around the base of the hat. Mister Poe was dressed otherwise in a midnight black suit that was carefully tailored to his unique frame- although threadbare in the extreme with a few obvious patches made at the elbows that were not quite the right color. He wore a long black wool hooded cloak with a white silk lining. Strange sigils were sewn onto the white lining with iridescent red thread. The cloak too had several conspicuous patches. He carried a long cane that was almost as tall as Cooper himself and had a big gaunt Irish Wolfhound at his side named Charon. Instead of a tie, Mister Poe wore a necklace of delicate bird bones spread out in an eerie sunburst across his chest.
Mister Poe was not a young man. Cooper suspected that he was in his sixties. Mister Poe was entirely devoid of hair and was gruesomely pale, and his translucent skin was pulled tight across his tall frame and face, such that his mouth seemed as though it was rip in his face rather than a natural opening. Poe's face had heavy scarring- a huge horizontal scrape from one side of the temple to the other. The scarring started just above where his eyebrows should have been and ended at his upper lip. The upper lip itself had been heavily ground away by whatever scarred him. His nose had been likewise scraped almost entirely away, adding to Poe's already skeletal appearance. The scarring also left his eyes looking oddly sunken.
Mister Poe walked everywhere. He carried very little, some travel food- jerky, dry rations, coffee grounds, salt, and dried fruit- all wrapped up in a burlap bag hanging at his hip, and a haversack full of his gear and his wares flung over his back. Finally, Poe carried an array of thin and clinical looking knives and scalpels in leather cases within his vest.
Mister Poe was older than most people in the Redwing Tribe, and not fully understood by even them. Uncle Redwing alone seemed comfortable with the old man, and referred to him as a 'fragile shell of a hero who understood too much' when Cooper asked about Poe. Poe was certainly a tribal, he knew the stories of the the free peoples and would tell them whenever he arrived in town. He also told other stories. Stories about far off places like Troy and London and Kyoto and Beijing and Bangkok. These were stories of blood, where the children's DNA sprang from, even if their heritage lay in the tribe.
But as much as Mister Poe liked the stories, this was not Poe's profession. Poe was a ghost dealer. He claimed that he exorcised demons and possessing spirits and purified places tainted by the spirit of the broken gods of Civilization. He was also an excellent doctor and knew more about obscure ailments than anyone in the area, although he had odd ideas about a number of illnesses. Malika's family did not much like Poe- calling him a deluded fool, but most of them still showed him respect to his face. Cooper's Uncle Redwing seemed to pity him, and the rest of the tribe's adults seemed to be somewhat afraid of him.
Poe cured those who seemed beyond help and fixed the most intractable of problems, all through his claimed dealing with ghosts. In his haversack was a collection of glass bottles, filled one quarter with salt and painted with odd symbols that Poe said held captured ghosts. He would- for a price- barter with, bribe, coerce, blackmail or torture his ghosts into helping the living when he arrived in town.
Malika's mother Koko was the most tolerant of the Freeman family regarding Poe. She described the man as equal parts surgeon and witch-doctor, psychiatrist and conman, genius and fool. He was not welcomed into town by most adults, but there was normally somebody who felt that they needed to talk with Poe privately when the tall specter ambled into the village.
The Children watched as Mister Poe walked up to the trading post, nodded gently to Uncle Lamont- now crippled by a badly healed hip- and swung around behind the Trading Post to head up to the Village.
"Let's go see why he's here!" Cooper said, standing up and bolting off before the others could object or agree. Pike was running behind him in a moment.
Malika swung down from the tree calling angrily after the two boys, "No fair, you got a head start."
"I'm little! Deal with it!" Cooper called back without looking.
"Fine then, I will!" Malika pushed herself into a run, her corn row hair bouncing in front of her eyes occasionally. Idly Malika decided that she needed to get a string to tie the rows back for when she became a warrior.
"I'm still going to catch you!" She called out.
"Big talk!" Pike called back.
* * *
When the children ran into the center of the village, Mister Poe was sitting on a log by the communal fire pit throwing what looked like the knuckle bones of a bear onto the ground and staring at them, then scooping them up and throwing them again.
Mister Poe had not yet unpacked his wares, which was strange. He seemed quite preoccupied by the knuckle bones. Pike put a hand on Cooper's shoulder as Cooper moved to approach Mister Poe.
"He isn't all there, remember Coop." Pike said.
"I see dancing letters and floating colors, big bro. I'm not all there either."
"He's creepy Coop. Why do you want to talk to him?" Malika asked.
"Because, he's who you talk to when you can't figure out what's wrong with you."
"Why don't we asked one of the Healers first. We have really good medical training here, you know that." Pike said.
"No! I can't do that. It isn't fair."
"You aren't making sense Coop." Malika said.
"I don't have to. I'm asking him."
Cooper approached the tall figure in the top hat, leaving Pike and Malika standing nervously behind him. He couldn't explain why, but it felt weak to tell the adults. It felt like making an excuse, and admitting that he wasn't normal. He knew he wasn't normal, but he wanted the tribe to think he was at least a little normal. At least normal enough to be part of the tribe. Cooper didn't want to say anything to endanger that.
"Well met young hawk, am I your quarry?" Mister Poe said without turning around.
Cooper jumped and his mind flailed about for a response.
"Umm. I have have a question, if you mean that. And why did you call me a hawk?"
"Cooper hawk, although its the chest that's red not the wing."
"Um, Oh. Redwing is my Uncle's name- he lets me use it."
"Strange to see a blackbird give a hawk a name. But your uncle is blackened by the ash of a hundred years of war and strife, so perhaps he is a hawk too underneath all that black, eh?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Better you don't, people who stand under things tend to get crushed by them. What is your question? Or shall I tell you eh?"
"I want to know what's wrong with me. I want to know why I can't read."
Poe turned to face Cooper and then stood up until he towered over the boy. Poe looked Cooper over and then stepped in closer. He crouched in front of Cooper and opened the boy's eyes wide and looked at Cooper's pupils.
"Open you mouth, let me see your tongue."
Cooper stuck his tongue out. Poe made a clicking noise- apparently to himself as he looked at Cooper's tongue.
"They say that you can't read. Why not?"
"I don't know."
"Yes you do. All Redwings read. Why don't you?"
"I can't make sense of the letters."
"You said letters and not words. Why?"
"I can't put letters together into words."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
Poe grasped Cooper's shoulders and shook him.
"Yes, you do!"
"No! I don't!"
"You do." Poe said with finality, "You just don't think an adult will believe you."
Poe paused.
"So I'll ask the bones." He twisted like a snake, snatched up the knuckle bones in a single swoop and tossed them at Cooper's feet. Poe examined the bones for roughly a minute and then looked back up a Cooper.
"Letters shift on you, don't they? They move when you try to read them don't they?"
Cooper's mouth dropped open.
"And they change color too." Cooper said quietly.
Poe's eye's widened and then narrowed.
"We'll deal with the colors later. The moving letters mean that you are dyslexic. Depending on how severe your case is, you may be able to learn to read, you may not. Even if you can learn to read, it will be very hard. It's the way you brain is wired."
Cooper shook his head, "So my brain is double broken."
"No! Your brain is not broken! Who told you that? You are simply not meant to learn by reading. You are a wide thinker, a body thinker. Nothing is broken. you simply think in a rare and little understood manner. Nothing in you is broken."
Cooper was silent for a long moment then. He closed his eyes and tried to process this idea. That there was not something wrong with him, but that he was simply a rare type of mind. It appealed to him- this idea that he might be rare and special. But it also made him an outsider, just as the synesthesia did, just as his arrival into the tribe did. More and more, he was a strange visitor. More and more, he was other than everyone else.
"Do you understand?" Mister Poe asked.
"I do, but I don't know if I like it."
"The mark of a brilliant person is the ability to accept uncomfortable truths. Most people prefer to see only what they prefer rather than what is actually true."
"I'm going to be lonely, aren't I?"
Cooper heard a clatter and a spattering of colored triangles flash in the darkness. Realizing his eyes were still closed, Cooper opened his eyes and saw Poe staring at his knuckle bones again. He pointed to spots where the bones touched as he spoke.
"This is the wolf pack. It means that you will have a family to fight beside you. This is sturgeon. It means you will lose something ancient and valuable. This is the spider. It means many things will draw together around you. This is the moon. It means you will lose a woman who loves you."
Cooper stared at the bones, and couldn't see any of the things that Mister Poe Described.
"This is a difficult life, but not a lonely one. Now, we must deal with your haunting."
Cooper looked up into the old man's eye's sharply. "My what?"
"You see colors. This is a classic symptom of ghostly possession."
"No it's not. It means I have synesthesia."
Poe sniffed is disgust. "Such and old city idea. People in the old days would be possessed for a lifetime because they didn't believe in ghosts. You are possessed. The only question of any importance is whether you are possessed by a good spirit or a bad spirit."
Poe uncoiled to his full height and began moving with alarming speed. He had his haversack completely unpacked before Cooper could finish processing Poe's bizarre diagnosis.
"Sit in the center of the circle" Poe instructed. Cooper looked down and saw that Poe had already placed thirteen mason jars with herbs and salts around him in a circle. Intimidated by the larger frenetic man before him, Cooper sat.
"Good now close your eyes." Cooper did so, " Now I want you to clear your mind. We are going to draw your ghost out and you will talk to it. You must find out who it is and what it wants. And you must master it. Even a good spirit is dangerous if it runs lose in your body. It could possess you when you sleep, or say things when you wish to remain silent. You need to show it mastery of yourself. Collect yourself. Are you ready to battle your possessing spirit?"
"Umm. Yes."
"Good, then chew this." Poe placed a small cookie sized thing in his mouth. Cooper began chewing, and discovered that it tasted awful. He wanted to throw up. Then slowly he felt something at the edge of his vision. He wasn't sure if he eyes were still closed. They felt open, but everything was dark except a slight redness at the extreme left and right on his field of vision.
He wasn't even sure if he was still chewing.
The last thing he noticed from the regular world was his Aunt Lana- Pike's Mom- screaming at Poe.
"What did you give to my boy!?"
He heard Poe's answer, although he didn't understand it.
"Peyote. He needed to enter the spirit world."
Then there was a loud sound, like fish's tail slapping the water and the regular world slid away.
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