Excerpted story from unpublished novel

Copyright 1994, 2004, Michael Banister




Expert Witness


When Flor Benavides's afternoon therapy group finished a little after 4:30, she really felt she had to get away for awhile. It had been a grueling week at her clinic in Bonny Doon, and she was surfeited with the problems of patients and staff members. She decided that with the remaining three hours or so of daylight she would head down the mountain and finish up the roll of film in her old Pentax Spotmatic.
Flor called the local number for tide information and found out that low tide would be at 5:30 p.m. She threw an outing bag together with camera, tripod, extra shoes and clothes, and some fruit, cheese and a thermos of hot coffee.
The ride down to Davenport was beautiful and blissfuly uneventful. Flor's Ford Explorer delivered her to the tide pools at a few minutes before 5:30. The area was starting to look deserted as people called it a day and left for home. Some people, however, were just arriving for what promised to be not only a glorious sunset, but a magical evening on the dunes stoking bonfires, cooking and making 'Smores.
Flor methodically began looking for those areas least likely to be inhabited by the frolickers, who as a rule preferred the leeside of dunes to escape the chill winds. She found a spot surrounded by rocks and pools, with a small point of scrub-covered boulders jutting out into the surf.
Setting down her bags, Flor took out her tripod and camera and began walking around carefully looking for striking little marine still-lifes tucked away between the rocks. On past occasions, she had some very gratifying successes with low-light photography, using her tripod and slowing the shutter way down. This time she wanted to try to let the camera peer into the shallow pools themselves, hoping to get an almost abstract effect from the vivid colors of the pool flora and fauna and the reflection of the sky sitting upon the pool's surface.
After about an hour, Flor had not only used up the roll that was already in the camera, but she had almost finished a second roll. Hunger pangs were starting to take her mind off photography, so she returned to her little hideaway spot.
Flor wasted no time polishing off her hunk of Jarlsberg cheese, her Bosq pear and her Kaiser roll. She sipped her still-hot coffee while sitting in the warm sand, back against a driftwood log, and gazed off into the colorful but eerily fog-shrouded sunset. She could feel herself slipping into the stream of unconsciousness.
At first the sun seemed to plop into the Pacific with a great hissing, like an iron ball heated red-hot and dropped into a smithy's bucket of water. Flor watched the cloud of steam rise up all around her with a feeling of amazement. She was no longer sitting on the sand, but on a silken pillow atop a great canopy bed. Descending from all sides of the canopy were golden strands of wire. Flor reached out with both hands without rising from her pillow. She grasped each of the golden wires, and found them to be strung as tightly as a harp's strings. She plucked each in turn, producing a most pleasing music.
But then the burning, hissing orb of the sun arose back out of the roiling sea in front of her. The red-hot globe floated unsteadily and seemed to drift closer to her. She felt its pleasing heat and began pulling off her clothes to more fully enjoy the sheer sensuousness of the sauna-like sensation.
When she was finally free of clothing, she lay down on the pillow. The canopy became transparent, and Flor could see the sun rise up over it and position itself directly over her.
The sun seemed to be losing its brightness around the edges, until there was only a translucent octagon of crystal suspended there. The crystal slowly lowered, and Flor could make out an obscure impurity in the center. As the crystal filled her field of vision, she could see the impurity was a swirling mass of smoke.
Flor's heart was racing, but she could not move. The smoke took the shape of a face -- the face of a bearded, ageless man. The look upon the face was one of unalloyed menace. Flor was immobilized with fear.
At that moment, the ocean rose up and Flor could see a gigantic wave arch over the massive, glowing crystal. The wave came crashing down on it.
Flor awoke at the very instant that the changing tide announced its arrival by sending a tongue of frothy sea water gently over the supine woman. Flor scrambled to her feet, but she had already been baptized from her waist down.
"Shit. Damn. Now what am I going to do? I'm soaked," she muttered.
Luckily her outing bag was nice and dry atop the driftwood log. Not only was her equipment safe, but there was also a change of clothes inside for just such an emergency as this.
Flor gathered her stuff and walked behind a nearby boulder to change. She then walked back down the beach towards the gravel-shoulder parking area.
She knew she had a walk of almost a mile ahead of her, and would have to avoid numerous stretches of now-submerged sand and slippery rocks. After nearly falling several times, Flor decided to take the dune route back, which was certainly safer if not as interesting.
Almost immediately upon entering the long meandering corridor of low, grass-covered dunes, Flor almost stumbled into a bonfire party. A really big bonfire party. She stopped in her tracks, hoping that she wouldn't be seen by the group.
It was too late. This group did not appear to be the usual group of beach merrymakers, intent on bludgeoning themselves insensate with alcohol, weed, food and fire. These people numbered about 20 or 25, and several motioned for her to sit down and join them.
In front of her was a massive driftwood log, across which was stretched a large white sheet. The sheet was tied at each end to a volleyball pole. Behind that sheet, Flor could see a large bonfire burning, illuminating the sheet from behind. Someone near her explained that they were about to see an Indonesian shadow play, and handed Flor a program which contained a description of the various carved, flat stick puppets that would play roles at different times in the play. According to the program, the puppets were held by people crouching in a long lateral pit dug about 3 to 4 feet deep behind the log and screen. The light from the bonfire would cast the puppets' shadows on the screen. The voices would be supplied by various people in the trench behind the screen.
Flor read through the little program. Almost all the "actors" in this play were birds, with simple names like Crow, Eagle, Owl, Mockingbird, Canary, Nightingale, Magpie, Gull and Jay. One of the actors was simply called Human; another was called Phoenix; and another was called Ghost. The synopsis said simply that "Human has been called to account by some of his victims." The location was described as "a court convened in a circle of redwoods."
There was a noticeable murmur in the audience; the stick-puppet characters appeared one by one, were announced, and took their places. Flor could see that each stick puppet was distinctively carved, with clear outlines and cut-out areas that made identification easy.
Owl, the judge, called the hearing to order. Crow was the main accuser, playing a District Attorney role. Human was standing slightly left of center, next to a redwood. Behind Human were assorted birds in a type of gallery. Behind Crow were birds assembled in a jury box.
Crow began with an opening statement, and informed Human that he had been brought to Birdland's Windlift High Court to answer a very serious charge: that Human is destroying the Earth and lacks the ability or desire to control his behavior. Crow informed Human that he could respond freely to any point or accusation without limitation. Crow pointed out that jurors, judge and gallery could participate as well. Evidence could be introduced by anyone and could be rebutted by anyone. Should the jury find Human guilty as charged, the penalty would be capital: Eagle would drop him to his death from the highest Redwood.
Before Crow could continue, Human challenged his accusers: "You birds cannot complain about our actions. Animal species are completely without rules imposing respect for other species, whereas mankind has such rules and makes every effort to abide by them. We take care of animals and their habitats; animals do nothing for others. We are stewards of Nature."
Eagle spoke a haughty, snorting reply: "Nature is in balance. Animals' conduct does not alter that balance, even without your so-called `rules.' However well-meaning some humans are, the fact remains that Mankind is simply not needed in Nature. Humans are bumbling incompetents at best, whose sincerest efforts at acting as the `stewards' of Nature would be laughable if not so tragic."
At this point, the derisive laughter that had broken out among the magpies and jays in the gallery came to a sudden, embarrassed end when Eagle spoke the word `tragic.' Eagle continued: "At their worst, humans are in fact actively destroying the Earth. Nature has submitted this question to the birds to adjudicate."
Human countered in the only way he knew how: with logic, pointing out that because humans were undeniably creatures, they have rights and privileges like other creatures.
Crow asked Human, "Is that all you have to offer--pure sophistry, for which your species is best known? I for one certainly recognize idle, meaningless chatter when I see it." At that unwittingly honest remark, the other birds burst out laughing, with shouts of "listen to Crow, he knows what he's talking about."
Crow responded to the laughter with a diatribe aimed at human and the other birds: "There is little point in wasting time today trying to determine whether Human is a danger to the Earth. We all have our horror stories. I and many other birds can provide numerous examples of being attacked with weapons for no reason."
Human interrupted: "No reason! We only try to protect our fields from predation. Every species defends itself and its territory. The Crow chooses to destroy our fields rather than live off the abundant earth like every other bird."
Crow responded: "Your fields? You move in, destroy a forest by blade and fire, then plant heavy-feeding crops year after year which leave the soil exhausted. When the soil will not produce in its former abundant manner, you then poison the soil and the water supply with your chemicals. I might add that you have no qualms about killing your own kind when it's time to move onto other land." Crow turned to the jury box and asked, "What gives this useless, malicious creature the right to share our world?"
Eagle answered Crow's rhetorical question to the jury: "He has forfeited whatever right he may have had. I, and many others, have experienced the heartbreak of seeing eggs crack and die because of the poisons Human has put into the water and the soil. And what about the forests; our homes the forests?"
The gallery and jury erupted into shouting and jeers. Owl permitted it for a full minute before gaveling for silence.
Human turned to Owl and asked if he could produce an expert witness. There was a stunned silence in the gallery and jury. Owl turned his head completely around to survey the audience in front of the screen. There were giggles from those in the audience. Owl intoned in his best magisterial manner: "I see no one here who is an expert." More giggles.
Human responded: "I ask leave to call the Ghost -- He who is indwelling in every one of your beloved trees; he who never dies." Many birds began openly and audibly scoffing; others looked nervous and remained silent.
Eagle spoke: "How is it that I, who have lived in trees since the Great Condor created the Earth, have never seen this wood spirit, this Ghost as you call him? It is nothing but a faery tale, for which Human is well known."
Human replied: "The reason, my dear friend Eagle, is that we are the only creatures who know the Ghost, and who can invoke the Ghost for the benefit of all on this Earth. And that is also one reason why humans are indispensible members of Nature's family."
There erupted several minutes of vigorous debate. Eagle insisted no such spirit existed; that the only spirit was the Wind. Crow, Parrot and Jay, with their skillful tongues, led the remaining birds into a tentative agreement that Human was nothing but a conjurer of images drawn out of smoke.
But the group was suddenly stunned into another moment of silence, this time by the appearance of the rarest of all birds, the Phoenix. There was a murmur that ranged from squawkings of alarm to trills of ecstasy. The Phoenix's body was outlined with an aura of fire, and its eyes resembled translucent crystals. The Phoenix spoke but two sentences: "I, who inhabit the midmost fire of death and rebirth, have seen that Human's words are true. Let him invoke the Ghost of the Wood." The Phoenix then ascended from the scene and was gone.
Canary was the first to attempt to speak its concurrence, but was so overcome with joy that its words were pure song. Likewise, Nightingale and Mockingbird could do nothing but sing.
Finally, Owl coughed and said, "Let Human conjure, if he can. We all shall be the judges of what is truth."
Human arose and turned to face the great tree in the middle of the scene. A low, sonorous chant emerged from Human, which greatly pleased and excited Canary and Cockatiel, both of whom joined in with song.
Soon, the tree's outline took on an aura which slowly separated itself and solidified in the foreground. The shape was not quite fixed, and Flor wondered how the puppeteers accomplished that special effect.
The figure of the Ghost spoke these words: "We of the Wood have been with Human since before his appearance on Earth. That was a blessed event for all creatures here. Indeed, Human was the first of all the Created Ones. He had not his present form, nor his present mind. But his spirit has been and shall always be everlasting. Were it not for Human, the others of the Beautiful Earth would not have proceeded past the Misty Portal.
"Know that Human's struggle with the Fire of Self is a struggle on which all of Nature depends. And the outcome will define and nourish Life itself. Human himself cannot answer your questions satisfactorily. He is only an adolescent; he is clever, but he lacks wisdom and common sense.
"In time, he will prove his worth to your Beautiful Earth a thousand fold. His spirit will ere long roam the shadowy interstices of this Creation, attracting the spirits of you and others to the higher realms, realms which none of you have seen but in dreams. In this way, all creatures will be uplifted on the True Wind of Vision, a Wind no single one of you has yet ridden."
The glowing figure of the Ghost of the Wood slowly rotated and cast his gaze on all in the audience. Flor could see that this particular ornately carved stick puppet was breathtaking in its detail and design. Many in the audience could be heard sighing in pleasure at this beautiful figure.
With a twirl, the Ghost vanished. The audience didn't wait for the birds behind the screen to resume deliberations. The crowd began clapping and cheering heartily, and Flor took the opportunity to depart through an opening in the two dunes on the left.
She was too tired to think on the drive back up the mountain to Bonny Doon. Images of fire, smoke, wind, and water flooded her over-stimulated brain. She would do her thinking tomorrow.