Transcendence by C. J. Omololu Page A

in that familiar way he has and we walk in silence for a minute or two. Slowing his pace, he says softly, “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. And you probably have a million questions.”
    “Now there’s an understatement,” I say, walking a little faster.
    Griffon continues, even though I’ve given no sign at all that I still want to talk. “Akhet are people who can remember who theywere in the lives they’ve lived before. It’s an Egyptian word that’s been used to describe us for thousands of years. We keep our memories while everyone else has to start all over again each lifetime.”
    I struggle against the tide of questions that are churning through my brain.
Akhet
. I turn the word over in my mind. I know I’ve never heard it before, but at the same time it’s almost familiar. It feels like ideas are going by too fast for me to reach out and grab just one to examine. I stop at the edge of the playground and turn to face him. I feel almost angry, like he’s getting something out of making me believe his big joke. “You said ‘us.’ So you’re … one too?” I can’t bring myself to use the word, as if acknowledging it means that I believe what he’s saying. And I can’t believe him. It’s crazy.
    “I’ve been Akhet for a long time,” he says simply.
    I watch the kids on the swings at the other end of the playground. I look around at all of the people on the lawn, the stoners playing hacky sack by the pond. This is real life, not some fantasy story. I want him to laugh, to tell me that he’s only kidding, to take my hand and squeeze it tight, and let me know that all of this is going to be okay. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, waiting for me to make the next move. So I do. “Now that you’ve gotten the lie out of the way,” I say, “do I get to hear two truths?”
    “I’m not kidding, Cole,” he says, his gaze steady on me. “It
is
the truth. I can help make things easier.”
    I reach into my back pocket and pull out the photo from Piccadilly Circus. “Were you following us, then?” I ask, holding it out to him. My hand is shaking, and I know he sees it too.
    Griffon smiles like he’s been caught. “No,” he says. “Not really. I was wondering if you’d see me in the picture. We just happened to be crossing the street there that day. Owen and I do that sometimes—get into the background of other people’s tourist shots. Kind of like a real life
Where’s Waldo
. We must be in hundreds of slide shows all over the world.” He touches my image in the photo. “You made an impression, though. Sometimes you can sense when a person nearby is Akhet. So when you showed up at the Tower, I wasn’t all that surprised.”
    “That’s a pretty huge coincidence,” I say skeptically.
    “Coincidence,” he repeats, then shakes his head. “I don’t think of things that way anymore. Even the word is meaningless. It’s not about coincidence. It’s about leaving yourself open to possibility. Not letting your conscious mind get in the way.”
    I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands until colors shoot through the darkness. This is nuts. Akhet? Past lives? Who believes this stuff? I shake my hands out to get rid of some of the nervous energy that’s building up inside of me. “I need to get out of here,” I say, and turn back toward the path. The sun has started to set over the trees while we’ve been in the park, and most of the kids have been called away by their parents.
    Even more disturbing than thinking he’s lying to me is the fact that it all makes so much sense. His explanation feels so right. Like something I’ve been searching for is suddenly right there in front of me. But I can’t let myself believe him. His closeness, the scent of him in the warm evening air, is turning my brain to mush.
    “Just take it all in slowly,” he says. “It took me years to even get where you are now.”
    “And where exactly is that?”
    “The place where you can get some