‘I call it my refuge, it’s the only place I feel safe. This entire complex is shielded from electrostatic waves. We call it a quiet zone. It safeguards my presence from Lilith and any other Hunahpu who might be out there.’

Up ahead is a timber-framed Japanese house.

‘You’re really into this oriental stuff, aren’t you?’ Immanuel asks.

‘The concept is called Wabi and Sabi … simple quietude—elegant simplicity. I find it spiritually liberating.’

Just before the entrance, lying in the middle of the path is a grapefruit-sized stone, wrapped in hemp. Jacob picks it up and shows it to his brother. ‘The bound stone symbolizes entry into a different world. You are now entering mine.’

Immanuel follows his brother over the bridge to the open formal entranceway.

‘You see, Manny, in the traditional Japanese home, there is no clear delineation between the exterior and the interior. Instead, there’s an intermediate structure composed of a formal entranceway, a veranda, a drawing room, and a courtyard, separated by various screening devices, all of which are designed to bring nature indoors while still shielding its inhabitants from the elements.’ Jacob pauses at the raised deck to remove his shoes. ‘Please?’

Immanuel kicks off his sneakers, feeling ridiculous.

There are no formal doors or walls, only an open wooden shutter. The floors inside are made of polished bamboo, covered here and there with tatami mats. A small alcove leads to a high-ceilinged, A-framed drawing room, at the center of which are four comfortable leather chairs situated around a stone coffee table. The kitchen is immaculate, the latest appliances discreetly hidden behind a wooden bar. A step down leads to the sunken dining room, its floor covered in a violet tatami, the surrounding bamboo benches lined in matching pads. The walls are made entirely of shoji—framed paper sliding doors. Through an open partition Immanuel sees another formal garden. He hears the soothing sounds of water—the stream passing beneath the floorboards to intersect the center atrium of the house.

‘Are you hungry?’ Jacob asks.

‘Just tired.’

‘The guest room’s through here.’ Jacob pulls open a shoji, revealing a small room, at the center of which is a tatami bed. ‘Better get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.’

‘Jake, what did you mean when you said I’m the Yin to your Yang?’

‘Yin and Yang are the two fundamental forces that make up the Tao—a primal, mysterious energy that translates simply into “The Way” or “The One”. From The One comes “The Two”—the Yin and the Yang, two powerful polar forces, like the positive and negative poles of a battery. Neither is fully dominant, each in a constantly changing dynamic of push and pull, energizing and pacifying.