Jupiter’s Bones

The shed was neat, the garden implements hanging on the walls or stowed in one of the built-in slots. There were several plastic trash cans for dirt and leaves. The floor had been swept clean.

Cleanliness and godliness—hand in hand.

Decker mulled over the adage.

The sect must believe in some type of a god. Why else name yourself the Order of the Rings of God? Why not just … Order of the Rings. Or just plain Rings. Much thought often goes into naming. Decker remembered how he and Rina had endlessly debated baby names even after they decided to name Hannah Rosie after Rina’s grandmothers. Then how much more important would the name be if it denoted a personally tailored philosophy? Or a new religion? Each word would be important.

Decker heard a throat clear, and turned around. The man wasn’t as tall as Decker, but must have cleared six feet. He appeared to be in his late thirties with a thin face and brown eyes. He sported a goatee, and had a black ponytail, which fell between his shoulder blades. Like Pluto, the man wore a blue silk robe overlaid with a purple silk vest. Decker wondered about his name. Mars? Maybe Uranus. That would be fitting. Because the whole investigation was a big pain in the ass.

The man walked over to Decker and held out his hand. “Bob,” he announced.

Involuntarily, Decker let out a chuckle. He shook the proffered hand. “Lieutenant Decker.”

“You find me funny?”

“Just the name.”

“Why’s that? Bob’s a common name.”

Again, Decker smiled. “Yes, sir, it is indeed. I hope I’m not trespassing—”

“You are. You’re lucky I locked the dogs up. With the police coming and going, I had no choice. They don’t like strangers.”

“Good guard dogs never do.”

“You’d better believe it.” Bob smiled. “Their names are Dormer, Dancer and Rudolph. Santa has his reindeer, I have my friends.”

“They’re your dogs?”

“No.” Bob wiped sweat from his brow. “They belong to the Order. But I’m outdoors a lot so we enjoy a personal relationship.”

Decker sensed an underlying message—a veiled warning that said, “Don’t mess with me.”

Bob said, “When I first arrived, Father Jupiter asked if I wanted to change my name to something more … far-reaching—celestial or heavenly, if you will. That was the trend. To follow our great leader’s lead. But, being an individualist and a bit of an oppositionalist, I declined. Unlike most of the people here, I wasn’t running away from myself per se. Just running to something better, my spirit being my compass.”

Decker nodded, waiting for more.

Bob mulled over his words. “I’ve found peace that had previously eluded me. I found my personal god.”

Decker kept his face flat. “Father Jupiter is your personal god?”

“Perhaps that’s an overstatement.” Bob smiled, showing tea-stained teeth. “He’s not a god, but a leader. Showing me the way. My own personal … Tao. I feel that we were birthed from the same matter.”

“Is he related to you by blood?”

Bob chucked. “How I wish.” His eyes swept over the vista. “Look around, sir. This is a type of modern-day Eden. Rephrasing it into scientific parlance, I’d say here we have ideal Newtonian physics—a perfect world of action and reaction, and absolute time. Out there …” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s strictly Einstein where everything’s relative. Or Max Planck and quantum mechanics where things are random and unpredictable.”

Decker waited a beat. “You tend the garden by yourself?”

“I have help. But I’ve been here longer, so I get to wear the blue robe and purple vest.”

“Which means?”

“I’m an official privileged attendant to our Father Jupiter. Like Socrates, we get to sit at his feet and listen his words. We hold the title of guru. So I’m officially Guru Bob. But you may call me brother. After all, we’re one big family.”

The guru’s face remained neutral, but Decker suspected that Bob was speaking tongue-in-cheek.

Bob explained, “There are four of us who hold the rank.”

“Ah. I see. I’ve only met—”

“Pluto. He’s quite the organizer.”

Decker said, “I had assumed he was the acting head of the Order now that Father Jupiter is gone.”

Bob continued to be unreadable. “I suppose you could call him the partial acting head. He certainly is a talking head.”

“He has opinions.”

“That is true,” Bob answered. “Let’s get back to Newtonian physics. Because basically that’s the same concept we’re dealing with. For our everyday reactions, Newton’s laws hold. You know his laws, right?”

“Refresh my memory.”

“A body at rest stays at rest … a body in motion stays in motion. The orbits of the planets. What comes up, must come down. Any of this sound familiar?”

“The up and down part.”

“The specifics are not important. What is consequential is that his laws hold in ordinary life, but they break down when objects start approaching the speed of light. Then time no longer is absolute, but is relative and lumped into this category called space time. Not to mention the effects of the space warp—the curved topology of our universe. And the effect of huge gravitation bodies we can’t see called black holes. In other words, you get massive distortions, you understand what I’m saying?”

“The analogy is eluding me, sir—”

“Bob.”

“Bob, then.” Decker paused. “Were you a scientist in your past life?”

“A graduate student in astrophysics at Southwest University of Technology. I worshiped Dr. Ganz as a scientist, as a physicist, as a cosmologist and as a brilliant philosopher and thinker. I devoured his texts, could quote his writings word for word. He became the idealized father I never had. Mine was a washed-out old coot. Even after he made money, he wasn’t happy.”

“But you hadn’t met Ganz before he disappeared.”

“Of course not. My hero was pure fantasy because I, like others, had thought him dead. When I found out that Ganz was still alive, I rejoiced. My hero had leaped from the dry pages of publication and into real life. When others ridiculed his abrupt transformation, I had to find out for myself what brought about his startling change. So I came here. I heard him speak, I talked to the man, thought about his ideas. Once I entered his world, I never left. To me, Father Jupiter is still king of the universe.”

Melach Haolam, Decker thought. A hefty title for a mere mortal. “So you’ve been with Father Jupiter how long?”

“Fourteen years. But getting back to Newton’s absolute time versus Einstein’s relative time, the analogy is this: I have no objection to Guru Pluto stepping in as acting head of the Order under most circumstances—i.e., Newtonian physics. Just as long as he doesn’t try to impose absolute time under Einsteinian conditions. Because if he does, I’m going to clean his relative clock, so to speak.”

Decker opened his mouth and closed it. “Are you saying he can act as the Order’s head just as long as he doesn’t overstep his bounds?”

“Precisely,” Bob stated. “You’re quick for a cop.”