Instantly he broke off. Suddenly there were lotus blossoms everywhere. The stalls and people and donkeys were gone. The street disappeared. The silence after all the commotion was the oddest thing of all. Will had never sensed such silent air. Then he, Lydia, and Seven noticed something even stranger. The space around them formed a gigantic transparent image of Buddha, and they stood inside. The softest grass imaginable was beneath their feet, and the loveliest blue air was above; yet all of that was a part of the Buddha’s form. Seven stared: The image was now repeated unendingly, it seemed, in miniature transparent images, kaleidoscopic Buddha-shapes, mixing and merging together, forming the grass and sky as well, a million Jell-O-cubes of Buddha images. And the air itself felt different, like the most softly moving gelatin, of different hues, that all blended together. Will, shocked, stuck his finger out and stirred the air; he could feel it nudge against his fingertip as if it had a life of its own.

“What a trip, oh, what a trip!” Will shouted. His voice sent ripples through the jellylike air, set it moving in a slow frenzy.

Oversoul Seven cried, “Be quiet. Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Lydia said. She pulled her pilgrim’s robe about her throat and looked around anxiously.

Then Will leapt back. “I hear something,” he exclaimed, for the air was making the most peculiar settling sound, and before their eyes, Seven, Lydia, and Will saw the air visibly thicken, while still retaining its transparent quality. A giant-sized, slightly solidified Buddha image formed in the air just above them. Its parts moved and flowed together, again, like gelatin made out of space itself.

Seven steadied himself and said politely, “Uh, good afternoon.”

Lydia didn’t say a thing. Will prostrated himself on the ground and said, “Here I am, Master. I’ve no ego left. I’m done with desire. I’ve read all about you, and please consider me your servant.”

“Get up on your feet and don’t make a fool of yourself,” Seven whispered.

Will sent Seven a glance of nearly pure hatred, and then addressed the Buddha. “I tell you, I’m done with desire. I’m finished with wants and lusts.”

The Buddha lifted his beautiful gelatinous brows and said to Oversoul Seven, “What is he talking about?”

“Excuse me,” Lydia interrupted hesitantly. “Are you an Indian god? If you are, I have some questions.”

“I am if it suits your fancy,” Buddha said. “Now what is that poor fellow saying?” Buddha raised his flowing arm and indicated Will, who was sitting in a lotus position, and doing a rather poor job of it because his sneakers kept getting tangled in his pilgrim’s robe.

“Om, om, om,” Will chanted, and Buddha snapped, “Will you shut up?” so loudly that Will sprang to his feet.