Tarry Doom
On the planet of Tarry Doom the citizens wanted nothing more than to obliterate themselves in the Tarry Dot. This Dot was at the centre of a volcano and was only seen once, in the minute that it took to march from the lip of the volcano to the devouring centre of the pitch-black Dot. They were told that this would be the most blissful experience of their lives.
Since the age of four, when the Doomers were first told that the world was a world of pain and that the world would never give them what they wanted, they wanted out. It was also at the age of four that they learned the Four Great Facts: 1. Life is suffering, 2. Suffering is caused by duality, 3. Duality is caused by the other side, and 4. The only way to end duality is to enter the Unity of the Tarry Dot.
So they trained for the next 25 years to see the world, every sparkling and beautiful part of it, as a fuse that turned everything into smithereens. They called this smithereens the final blow out, as in a candle that is snuffed out. For 25 years they repeated this truth to themselves: Every blossom will shrivel and die. Only the worms understand what it’s all about. At the end of every training session they repeated the sentence, Ego moriar una die, ‘I will die one day,’ which gave them strength, knowing that some day it would all come to an end.
Most of the time, however, they worked in the factories which supplied weapons for the Holy War that raged between the two sides of the planet. Half the planet spelled their name Aatari, the other half Ataari, and they had been at war for ten thousand years. The other side never relented, never saw reason, never admitted they were wrong.
During their 32-hour day, they spent 8 hours in the factories, 8 hours sleeping, 8 hours reading from their holy book, The Scriptures of Doom, and 8 hours practicing what they were told to do in The Scriptures of Doom: focus on the space between two dark blue rubber balls. As hypnotic gongs tolled in the background, they heard a deep voice telling them that they were now in a trance, that the balls were their eyeballs, that their eyeballs were rooted in the two sides of their brains, and that their brains existed in a world of yesses and nos, lefts and rights. Everything is a dichotomy. To bridge this dichotomy you must enter the space between the two blue rubber balls, between the two sides of your brain that are both telling you that there’s no escape from this dichotomy. There’s no escape but Annihilation. Stare at the blue balls until they become one. Stare at the ball until it becomes black as pitch.
The deep voice also repeated other passages from the Scriptures of Doom (the voice was accompanied by sassafras incense and little tinkling bells placed high in the rafters): History teaches us the world is solid, and this solidity dooms us to a world of pain. Aatari may murder Ataari on sight, yet there’s nothing we can do about it. The only way to rise above it is to enter the space between the opposites. Stare into the space between the two balls. Project yourselves into the Nothingness that holds the two sides together, invisibly, everywhere.
At 29 the Doomers made their final pilgrimage to the Templo Mayor, located on the plain of Campostella Nera, which in their language meant Field of the Black Star. From every hamlet and every small town, from every city and every continent, they came in stained gym shorts and ragged T-shirts, on their knees and on their naked toes. Along the way, they were ordained to find their missing half, the one person with whom they would enter the Black Dot at the centre of the fiery volcano.
Up until this point in their lives they had never managed to talk to any member of the opposite sex. They never managed to have a first date, much less a relationship. To ensure their emotional safety, the authorities banned all contact between the sexes, except at official school dances, where they banned alcohol, played hymnal music that was impossible to dance to, and made the sexes stand at opposite ends of the gymnasium.
The authorities assured them that if they ever did by accident fall in love, it would end in total disaster. They documented the proof for this in the national anthem, “Black Star,” which they played every night before they went to sleep in their barracks.
But on the road to Campostella Nera everything was different. At every way-station, the inn-keepers served massive vats of beer to make sure that their search for the perfect mate was a success. Inevitably, after several rounds of drinking and bawdy songs, they found their ideal mate.
The first thing they were instructed to do after staring into the eyes of their soul mate was to exchange the rhyming couplets, Thou doth teach the torches to burn bright and I never saw true beauty till this night. Then they returned to their rooms and danced in slow motion around a candle which the authorities said was made from the densest tar, dredged up from the inky rivers of pitch beneath the Tarry Dot.
Although the candle was in fact made from tar that was left over from road projects in the rural waste lands, the Doomers were told that the candle had the magical power of burning them up if they so much as touched its flame. If they gave in to their desire for each other, it would be too soon. The candle could sense their evil thoughts and they would be snuffed out, before the moment of Unity. They would descend into a pit of hellish dichotomies that would stretch their body parts further and further on a burning cosmic rack for all eternity.
So the couples kept their distance, and danced around it very slowly. They sang hymns to the holy light, which they didn’t dare touch. Like frightened moths, they kept their pain within them and composed poems to the candlelight, destroyer of souls, harbinger of the Oblivion of the Tarry Dot.
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Esther saw Qayam on the other side of the flame. He was seven feet tall with a mane of slick navy-blue hair. His eyes were dark blue, and yet they looked as if they were on fire. The candle in the middle of the room was reflected in his eyes, which looked longingly straight into her eyes, which made her heart beat faster each time it moved her light blue blood through her dark blue heart and up into her eyes, which were a bright and flaming turquoise.
Esther raised her long lapis blue forearm and extended her left index finger, cobalt at the very tip, so that it was three inches above the flame. As she raised her left arm, he also raised his left arm, and their index fingers touched at the burning point.
They knew it was wrong. They knew their actions had already destroyed the Perfect Union they were to experience the following day in the sacred cauldron of the Tarry Dot. Inside their heads a voice was screaming, Via Sinistra! The Left-Handed Way leads to the never-ending flames of Eternal Doom! But this voice couldn’t drown out the thought that their forearms were parts of their bodies, not some demonic philosophy.
If they were to enter Oblivion, what did it matter if it were now or in ten hours? According to the deep voice within them, the gods didn’t give a damn about individual desires or petty lives. Above all, they required the sacrifice according to the ancient ritual. The deep voice inside them assured them that there was no greater bliss and no greater honour than to be snuffed out. What a blessing it would be to be swatted like a fly, and to then fly into the mystery of the Black Dot!
Qayam despised the deep voice within him. He also despised the ritual and the gods who went by the name of Arhaman and Enlila, Ereshkigal and Mazduk. And yet he had no choice but to let the words of the Fire Masters float through his head with their circular logic, which led to the great circles of bodies that funnelled into the volcano of the Black Dot. No one was allowed to see this Blessed Dot, compressed into a midnight black of infinite beauty, until the day of their Annihilation.
Qayam drowned out the deep voice within him, and asked himself, What did he owe these gods who made his life such a misery, and who would snuff him out just to celebrate their power?
He looked across the flame and saw Esther’s bright, hopeful eyes. Her night shift was thin as gauze, with little flowery designs from her clavicle to her belly button. From there, a gap of about five inches led to the fringes of her panties.
She made a movement with her shoulders, as if shrugging, What does it matter anyway? Except it wasn’t a shrug. She was allowing the thin straps of her night shift to obey the law of gravity and fall from her shoulders. The left strap caught at her left elbow, which was bent so that her finger could reach toward his.
She let her left forearm fall slowly toward her hip, releasing her night shift. It slipped to her panties and to her knees, and finally to the ground. Her hand fell to her side, away from the light.
In truth, she was his soul mate.
There were rough beds on either side of the room, made from woven straw. He put her night shift on one of them and they lay down together.
Neither had ever touched a member of the other sex, not so much as a hug or a light peck on the cheek. It was strictly forbidden. Now their bodies were on the same bed. They were lying on their sides, which allowed a space between them, in which their fingers might move about. She ran her fingers over his chest, his ribbed abdomen, and down into the mystery between his legs.
She grabbed the thing she had been told would lead her straight to an oblivion of hellish dimensions, winged scorpions, sucking vipers, and other assorted horrors. It was stiff as a wooden ladle. And yet soft. Instinctively, she stroked it, grabbed it tight, and slid her hand up and down. She fondled its soft head and had a sudden desire to plant her lips all over it.
Qayam couldn’t resist kissing her full lips, her slim neck, her enormous breasts, and was about to slide downward to the forbidden garden between her legs. But she beat him to it and dived down to his cock and put it in her mouth. She sucked hard, as if this were the volcano she couldn’t wait to erupt. Qayam was about to burst, so he pulled her up and placed her hips on top of his cock. It slid smoothly, as if willed by nature itself, into her tight cunt. They looked into each other’s eyes. The blue rings of their irises shot blue flames into the black wells of their pupils, consuming the double fire completely.
Before she fell into a deep sleep, Esther wondered why this was the forbidden thing, yet it was the only thing she wanted.
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The pilgrimage to the temple was a short one, yet it seemed like forever. The guards at the checkpoints verified their identity incisions. They were required to mouth the sacred words, or else they’d be shot in the head. There was nothing the authorities hated more than citizens who were insufficiently articulate about The Truth.
Her hand was soft, and her body still smelled like cinnamon as they climbed up the volcano to the very edge of the rim. It was the morning of their 30th birthdays.
They were in what the guards called The First Circle, which comprised 1001 Doomers standing inches before the lip of the volcano, looking down into the giant bowl beneath, at the centre of which was the Tarry Dot. To the left and right of Esther and Qayam, forming the first circle, were 999 other Doomers, Ataari and Aatari, finally together in a harmonious ring of unity.
Behind them, about 200 metres below, was a circle of 2002 Doomers, waiting excitedly to climb to the lip of the volcano to see the wonder of the Tarry Dot. Beneath them were 3003 Doomers, then 4004, 5005, 6006, and finally 7007 Doomers, all waiting impatiently for the moment of liberation.
At the stroke of noon The First Circle stepped over the rim and marched toward the Black Dot.
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Next: 🔪 The Dance of the Seven Veils