The Renaming of Gyami

THOM THOM BATDA THWUM THUM TIDA BOOM THWUM. Gyami’s eyes were filled with the invisible images of the heavy bass filling the Great Atrium of his new home. He felt completely alone among the hundreds of shredevas who were also waiting for their new lives to begin at the Pakarno Beat Temple, their home.

For most of the acolyte Deva Monks, this was the first time witnessing one of the legendary worshipping halls of a Fudaneijy Beat Temple. Gyami widened his eyes so he could make out the silhouettes of his new cohort in the disorientating strobbing blackness. Everyone looked like they were moving in slow motion, the multi-coloured strobes freezing hundreds of robed figures in their own private disorientations. Gyami wondered if this unsettling dance was the very first dance every shredeva unconsciously performed. I bet they have a name for this, Gyami thought surprised he could even think of anything over the techno boom of the atrium.

A soft glow slowly focused on a small balcony high above the freeze-frame crowd. Gyami knew the ceremony was going to start soon. Finally, I have been in limbo for weeks now for this ceremony, he thought as he noticed a small figure appear from behind a door onto the angelic balcony. The techno boom was still going strong, but seemed to somehow fade into the source of the milky light. Gyami could see what must be the Temple’s Beat Cleric setting up the séance that would officially welcome him into a new religion. He would finally be part of the city. Not the one he has been living in all his life up north in Defom, but the city and god as one. The stone, metal, and glass; the garbage, grit, and grime would become alive, and he would be part of it. He waited anxiously to be able to take his new name and forget this old, now meaningless name of Gyami.

The beats subtly started to meld into something noticeably different but the same. The Tempo was changing and the strobes followed suit. Gyami could easily see how the famous worshipping ceremonies of Fudaneijy were called “lost trances” by its detractors.

“Those ‘seances’ are nothing but escapism.” The memory of his older brother flashed into his mind. They are more real than those silly out-dated Bilik Gwij gods, he answered back to his memory.

There were no words spoken by the far-away cleric. They rarely spoke during their ceremonies. He was now totally immersed in producing the language of the pulsing fighting city; a language Gyami was impatient to learn. Seeing her up there, he remembered hearing this Temple’s Beat Cleric was female, allowed him to feel like he belonged since the first day he arrived at the temple almost three weeks ago. He had never been down south, not even to another prefecture. Isar was so different; the little he did get to see before being sequestered in the acolyte dormitory. Everything seemed to be much shinier. He heard that Isar was a far richer prefecture than Defom, especially his far north corner of Defom. He damned his culture for not being as worldly as he thought they should. Now I have to take the name of my district and my people, he thought. Well, the Jyori are as much of this massive being of a city as anyone else, so I will wear my name with pride; “Jyori Kembessiri III”. He said his new name out loud for the first time. It felt good. I still have not figured out who the other two Devas are from the same district and chorem as me. I wonder if they are still here or if they moved on to a new temple or moved into death. He started to sway to the changed beats and saw through his now adapted eyes that the rest of his group also started to sway. Just as we were instructed; so easy though.

“It will get much more difficult in the weeks to come.”

The voice surprised Gyami, almost throwing him out of synch. He knew this was the point, a test. He figured it was his Deva Mon giving him a reality check. He was starting to wonder when he would finally meet his assigned mentor. He heard horror stories of how strict and humourless Deva Mons were and was not looking forward to meeting his.

“Jyori Kembessiri III, I noticed your smile and know what you were thinking. Your training will become more and more difficult. I am sure I will not see that smile on your face much longer,” his Deva Mon said trying to be loud enough for his trainee to hear by soft enough not to disturb the séance. “I am you Deva Mon Pikure Suma III. Come find me when the ceremony is done.” He disappeared without waiting for acknowledgement from his shredeva.

How could he see me smile? High-order Devas must be nocturnal by now and the physiology that comes along with that, he thought. Must be something to do with the dye of their eyes. Mine should be dyed the shredeva green soon. Hope it won’t be painful. Focus Jyori, Focus. Do not move out of synch. He opened his eyes in realization that he must now be officially named since his Deva Mon addressed him as such. This is my home now, and I am not alone anymore. I am part of the Fudan, and the city beats through me, welcoming me. Me, Jyori Kembessiri III formerly known as Gyami Tos.