Forty signs of rain - Kim Stanley Robinson [128]
Charlie took it and hurried back through the darkening streets. He passed an occasional lit window, occupied by people working at computer terminals, looking like figures in a Hopper painting.
Now it began to rain hard again, and the wind was roaring in the trees and hooting around the building corners. The curiously low-angle nature of the city made big patches of lowering sky visible through the rain.
Charlie stopped at a street corner and looked around. His skin was on fire. Things looked too wet and underlit to be real; it looked like stage lighting for some moment of ominous portent. Once again he felt that he had crossed over into a space where the real world had taken on all the qualities of a dream, becoming as glossy and surreal, as unlikely and beautiful, as stuffed to a dark sheen with ungraspable meaning. Sometimes just being outdoors in bad weather was all it took.
Back in the office he settled at his desk, and ate while looking over his list of things to do. The sandwich was good. The coffee from the office’s coffee machine was bad. He wrote an update report to Phil, urging him to follow up on the elements of the bill that seemed to be dropping into the cracks. We have to do these things.
The sound of the rain outside made him think of the Khembalis and their low-lying island. What could they possibly do to help their watery home? Thinking about it, he Googled “Khembalung,” and when he saw there were over eight thousand references, Googled “Khembalung + history.” That got him only dozens, and he called up the first one that looked interesting, a site called “Shambhala Studies” from an .edu site.
The first paragraph left his mouth hanging open: Khembalung, a shifting kingdom. Previously Shambhala…He skimmed down the screen, scrolling slowly:
…when the warriors of Han invade central Tibet, Khembalung’s turn will have arrived. A person named Drepung will come from the East, a person named Sonam will come from the North, a person named Padma will come from the West…
“Holy shit—”
…the first incarnation of Rudra was born as King of Olmolungring, in 16,017 BC.
…then dishonesty and greed will prevail, an ideology of brutal materialism will spread all over the earth. The tyrant will come to believe there is no place left to conquer, but the mists will lift and reveal Shambhala. Outraged to find he does not rule all, the tyrant will attack, but at that point Rudra Cakrin will rise and lead a mighty host against the invaders. After a big battle the evil will be destroyed (see Plate 4)
“Holy moly.”
Charlie read on, face just inches from the screen, which was now also the dim room’s lamp. Reappearance of the kingdom…reincarnation of its lamas…This began a section describing the methods used for locating reincarnated lamas when they reappeared in a new life. The hairs on Charlie’s forearms suddenly prickled, and a wave of itching rolled over his body. Toddlers speaking in tongues, recognizing personal items from the previous incarnation’s belongings—
His phone rang and he jumped a foot.
“Hello!”
“Charlie! Are you all right?”
“Hi babe, yeah, you just startled me.”
“Sorry, oh good. I was worried, I heard on the news that downtown is flooding, the Mall is flooding.”
“The what?”
“Are you at the office?”
“Yeah.”
“Is anyone else there with you?”
“Sure.”
“Are they just sitting there working?”
Charlie peered out of his carrel door to look. In fact his floor sounded empty. It sounded as if everyone was gathered down in Evelyn’s office.
“I’ll go check and call you back,” he said to Anna.
“Okay call me when you find out what’s happening!”
“I will. Thanks for tipping me. Hey before I go, did you know that Khembalung is a kind of reincarnation of Shambhala?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Shambhala, the hidden magical city—”
“Yes I know—”
“—well it’s a kind of movable feast, apparently. Whenever it’s discovered, or the time is right, it moves on to a new spot. They recently found the ruins of the original one in Kashgar, did you know that?”
“No.