Dominique enters from the kitchen. She hands them each a glass of peach iced tea, its contents laced with the latest bioelixir designed to lower blood pressure and cholesterol, then sits back in her recliner.
Registering her presence, the recliner’s electromagnets instantly activate, the pulsating field invigorating the tight muscles in her back and neck.
‘Look at them,’ she says, pointing to the screen. ‘Jacob always pushing, Manny always lagging behind. I worry about him. I really have to push him to work out more in the Dojo.’
The rabbi shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand? What are you training these kids for? The Olympics?’
‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ Dominique says. ‘What God has planned for these boys requires preparation.’
‘Really? God has spoken to you?’
‘Rabbi, please.’
‘This has to do with that Mayan Popol Vuh nonsense.’
‘Nonsense?’ She turns on him. ‘Were you there when those drones started landing, or when that alien ship rose out of the Gulf? Were you there when my Mick disappeared?’
Mindy attempts to put an arm around her. ‘Stay calm, dear. You’re doing a terrific job raising these boys. No one’s doubting you, right, Richard?’
The rabbi shrugs. ‘I’m not trying to upset you. They’re both such well developed athletes. At least reconsider and let them play Little League.’
‘Out of the question. Do you have any idea what would happen if they competed in public?’
‘My guess is they’d meet some friends their age and make a few coaches very happy.’
‘Please. There’d be a riot at every practice.’
‘Still, it might be good for them, especially for Manny,’ Mindy suggests. ‘They need friends their own age. Today’s their birthday, and there are no children here. It’s not right. Manny’s such a loving child, but he always seems so sad.’
‘He hates it here,’ Dominique admits. ‘Then again, maybe he just hates his brother. Anyway, I’m still too afraid to let them leave the compound.’
‘Aren’t you being just a tad overprotective?’
‘Overprotective? There are lunatics out there, Mindy, thousands of them. Some want to worship my boys, others want to kill them. Security receives hundreds of letters a week, some of them quite graphic. It’s sick.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘We’re prisoners in a luxurious cage. Jake could care less, but poor Manny-all he ever talks about is playing football and basketball when he grows up. Breaks my heart.’
‘What about Jake?’ Mindy asks. ‘What does he want to do when he gets older?’
‘Jake wants to train. I never have to push him, he knows intuitively what lies ahead. Up before dawn swimming laps, then two hours on the computer, memorizing God-knows-what. After breakfast he’s in the gym, studying with his Tibetan monk until lunch-’
‘He’s seven years old,’ the rabbi says. ‘He should be reading comics and… and taking naps.’
‘Don’t you get it? He’s not like other kids. Jake’s naps consist of transcendental meditation sessions. Sometimes he “naps” hanging upside down from inversion boots, other times, he immerses himself in a tub of cold water.’
‘Cold water?’
‘The monk taught him that. Says it forces the mind to redirect the blood to the internal organs. At first Jake could only stay in the tub for thirty seconds. Now he’s up to fifteen minutes. One time I checked his pulse, and I swear, I couldn’t find it.’
‘So what can we do to help?’ Mindy asks.
‘I’m worried about raising the boys without a father figure in their lives. Salt and Pepper help, but they’re more like big brothers.’ She looks at the rabbi.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll talk to them. Maybe I can even suggest a way for Jacob to refocus some of that energy of his.’
Jacob enters the study. ‘Yes, sir, you wanted to see me?’
The rabbi looks up from the computer. ‘What? No hug?’
Jacob gives the man a cold embrace. ‘Was that all, sir, because I have a jujitsu lesson in half an hour, and I really should-’
‘Jujitsu can wait. I want to talk to you about Ju-daism.’ A nerdy smile.
No reaction.
‘You know, your paternal grandmother was Jewish, so were your mother’s parents.’
‘Actually, sir, my mother was adopted. Her real mother was Quiche Mayan. Her father was-’
‘Never mind. What’s important is history. Your mother tells me you’re interested in the Mayan Popol Vuh.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s a sacred parchment.’
‘Yes, sir, yes, sir… call me Rabbi or Uncle Rich, okay, tattala? Anyway, yes, I suppose the Popol Vuh is a sacred parchment, but it only dates back what… about five hundred years? The Bible, on the other hand, dates back thousands of years.’ He swivels in his chair to face the computer’s microphone. ‘Computer, access Torah, Hebrew text.’
The screen fills with Hebrew characters.
‘Your mother says you can read and speak several languages. Can you read Hebrew?’
‘No, sir… er, Rabbi.’ Blue eyes dart to the holographic display clock above the computer monitor. ‘I’m not really interested in-’
‘Not interested? I’m surprised at you. Here I thought you were someone who sought knowledge, who sought the truth.’
‘The Popol Vuh is-’
‘The Popol Vuh isn’t accurate, Jacob, it was written long after that Koo koo fella-’
‘Kukulcan.’
‘Uh, right… after Kukulcan’s passing. Now the five books of Moses
… they were written more than three thousand years ago by Moses himself.’
A whisper of thought teases Jacob’s brain. ‘Moses wrote the Bible?’
‘Most of it. And did you know that every single Hebrew Bible that exists or has ever existed was transcribed in exactly the same way, word for word, letter by letter. If even one letter is out of place, the Bible can’t be used. Did you know that?’
‘No… Rabbi.’ Jacob touches his temple and closes his eyes.
‘ Tatt-ala, you okay?’
The boy nods. ‘I just had a strong deja vu. I’ve lived this moment before.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘This moment. I’ve lived it before. We both have.’
The rabbi looks startled. ‘Now who taught you that?’
‘No one. It’s just the way things are.’ The boy climbs onto the rabbi’s lap and peers at the screen.
Jacob Gabriel cannot read Hebrew, yet he stares at the words, transfixed. ‘Something’s here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Letters are jumping out. But it’s hard to see.’
Steinberg leans closer to the screen. Reads a passage. ‘It seems fine to me. How about if we set up a time to study together. I can teach you the Hebrew alphabet and-’
‘It’s the spaces between the words. It’s screwing everything up, scrambling things, making it harder to see the patterns. Computer, close all spaces between words and sentences.’
The text on the screen recycles.
‘Whoa…’ Jacob’s brilliant azure eyes widen as three-dimensional patterns form among the letters in the text. ‘See! Things jump out better now!’
Steinberg’s heart races. ‘What things?’
The boy points to a line. ‘Like these letters. Does this say anything?’
‘ .’ The Rabbi looks at him, slightly pale. ‘It means, “End of Days.” How did you manage to select-’
‘Now these letters.’ Jacob points his index finger at a letter, then skips down three lines and one to the left, then continues the pattern until he forms a word. . Atomic holocaust. Jacob, how did you-’
‘And these letters here.’
‘I get it, you’re playing one of your famous mind games on me. Very clever.’
‘Just tell me what these four letters mean!’
The rabbi looks at him, unsure. He squints at the screen. . It’s a year: 5772.’
‘In the future?’
‘No, in the Hebrew calendar. The date equates to the year… 2012.’
Jacob closes his eyes, reciting, ‘End of Days. Atomic holocaust. 2012. It’s all here…’