27

“That was the police,” Thomas said, flipping his phone closed, “I guess he called them and said they should stop looking for him, ‘cause he’s fine.”

“What,” Leah said.

She had thought something was seriously wrong. She had reached out, Justin too, into universal mind, universal time and space, extra dimensions of extra colors they never knew existed or could exist. Colors that reacted to light and shadow likes musical notes, some sweet, some sour. He wasn’t there. He was gone.

“Where is he,” she asked.

Thomas’ lips twisted as he bit the inside corner of his mouth, and shrugged.

Thomas stood in silence, Leah sat. she glanced over at Marsh who frowned in ignorance. Justin stood up.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “I gets that shit, yo. The wise motherfucker seeks enlightenment in solitude and shit. He’s like those bearded motherfuckers who go off into a cave in the mountains, right? Then comes back with some mindboggling shit. ‘I’ve seen God,’ and shit.”

***

Leah didn’t really know anymore. Why didn’t she know him? They kept telling her that people often go through many different kinds of personality changes after a near death experience. But it was more than that. Something physical. She knew, Adam was different. He wasn’t the same.

If she were to take a step back and look at this thing from a wider angle, she’d see that the whole thing was crazy. Everybody around was caught up in a frenzy of hype. Adam was gone, and had left the group rudderless, without purpose. It was anarchy.

But Leah had a few ideas of her own.

***

“It’s time to talk about something really important,” Leah said, “love.”

Each of those assembled shifted uncomfortably, one by one they fell to the need to fidget. Leah had spoiled the mood, like when parents decide to bust in and give their children ‘the talk.’ Fargas glanced over at Eunice, trying not to get caught, but hoping he would be. Leah pressed on.

“I mean, what is the purpose of this group? Why are we still together? Because Adam might come back? We all like what he has to say, but we have to be strong on our own.”

“But,” Eunice said, “with no Adam, there’s no film.”

“The film’s not important,” Leah said.

“Not to you,” Eunice shot back.

“Okay, fine,” Leah said, “the film is important. But, what’s it about? Adam, or his legacy. This group is --”

“Adamites,” Justin interrupted, correcting her.”

“The ‘Adamites’ are part of his story now, and we’ve got to get a message out just like him.”

“But,” Fargas said, “what is this message of his? Love thy neighbor?”

“Why not,” Leah continued, “love your neighbor, love your enemy. Love everything and everybody. Love the good and the bad, because we’re all just tiny specks of infinity.”

“Meh,” Justin said, “that shit’s been done, yo. Them fucking hippies said all that shit way back in the sixties and it didn’t work. They just ended up with addictions and STDs and babies and shit.”

“Love isn’t about getting laid or doing drugs,” Leah said, “it’s about knowledge. Knowing yourself so that you can love others and make the world a better place.”

“I gotta agree with Justin here,” Marsh piped up, “it’s a weak message. It’s outdated, and no one’s going to buy into it. People need to feel like they can move up in the world. What you’re suggesting sounds too much like it leads to communism. Everybody loves each other, so everybody respects each other and makes the world a better place, so we all become equals. That’s communism and it’s not going to fly here in America.”

“I’m not talking about communism,” Leah said, slightly flustered.

“But that’s where it leads to,” Marsh continued, “that’s the end result.”

“Besides, it’s going to be a slow process. Get people involved here and there. Get out, get to know people. Spread the message.”

“We tried that already,” Marsh said.

“Yeah, and look,” Leah pointed to Fargas, “we don’t want to preach to people. We want to have sit down discussions with everyone who’s into it. Everybody who will listen. See that we’re real people with real minds.”

“Naw,” Justin said, “that shit is wack, yo. I ain’t sitting down with e’ry mothafucka in America. Mosta them dumb shits ain’t worthy anyway, like 75 percent of them. I want to tear it all down, all this shit. Start over.”

“You see,” Marsh said, nodding, “they don’t want a better world. They want a world that they’re better off in.”