Free How the Stars did Fall by Paul F Silva Page A

of the other. Once their journey began, their attention often turned to the window, where they watched an endless parade of oak and pine trees until, coming up out of Oakland, they passed a hamlet called Suisun and the flora was replaced by upright men and women, flashing before their eyes one after the other. Each one a little universe of wants and needs, of mind and spirit. The train’s speed picked up after Suisun and then slowed as it approached Sacramento. It stopped within view of the state capitol building.
    “There sits the most esteemed governor of California,” Adler said.
    “You know him?” Daniel asked.
    “I know enough. If his rule had been established in a more civilized time, long ago, he would be dragged out of that house and stoned to death for incompetence. And the man that killed him would be made king. Do you believe that?”
    “I can. Man is a barbaric thing.”
    “The common man may be barbaric. All the more important it is for men of intellect and power to guide those men as a shepherd leads his flock. Do we fault the sheep if one of them goes astray? No, the fault is with the shepherd. The sheep cannot help being sheep.”
    Having said that, Adler frowned and went silent. The train finished loading new passengers and began to move again. Servers brought them plates of steak and steamed potatoes and water and whiskey. Adler ate very little but drank quite a lot, asking that his whiskey glass be refilled more than once. And by the time they had finished eating, the train’s speed had increased considerably and the vista, previously filled with interesting creations, became barren and deserted as the train crossed into a valley of dirt and gravel. Spurred by this lack of visual stimulation, Adler spoke to Daniel of their destination. Of Mount Shasta.
    “Have you been to it before?” Adler asked.
    “I have not. I saw it once from afar a long time ago as a boy traveling with my father.”
    “It is a sight, isn’t it? It rises alone, and though it may not be the highest peak it possesses qualities unique to it in all the world.”
    “What sort of qualities?”
    Daniel was genuinely curious at that point, but Adler changed the subject.
    “Are you a joyful man, Daniel?”
    “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
    “That is a good answer. Joy is a vague word. It means one thousand things to one thousand different people.”
    “When I think of joy, I think of children. I think only children know joy truly, and at some point that knowledge is lost as all of us must grow.”
    “I’ll agree with you there, to a point. A German philosopher called Schopenhauer once posited that a living being’s intellect is proportional to their capacity to suffer. It follows that as our awareness grows, so does our experience of pain and sorrow and, by extension, our joy decreases. Of course, that statement alone says little. The precise mechanism by which knowledge begets suffering, and this is a mighty secret, is imitation.”
    “Imitation? How so?”
    “Oh. I have spoken too much. The whiskey damages my judgment. I do wish I could divulge all of these things but they are not for the uninitiated. And do you know why you’re here with me on a train to Mount Shasta?”
    “To be initiated?”
    “To be judged worthy of initiation. Now, as I am tired, I will try to get some sleep and so should you.”
    It took ten hours for the train to travel the full distance between Sacramento and Berryvale, the nearest town to Mount Shasta. Adler slept for about one hour of that time and spent the rest of it reading and writing into a little parchment he had on him. Daniel did not sleep at all and he had brought with him no diversion, nor did he desire one. His mind, saddled as it was by worries, could not concentrate on much of anything for the full length of their journey. He was not yet sure what this trip meant. Not yet sure anything Adler said could be believed. The one thing that gave him some relief was that