| General Science Fiction posted August 16, 2020 |
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Someday, if we are listening, an answer may come
The Message
by Brad Bennett
HELLO. IS SAD LADY CRYING? WHY IS SHE SO SAD? GOOD NIGHT SAD LADY.
Raymond leaned slowly back in his chair and gazed to the window. He wasn't looking for anything in particular. He just needed time to think. He exhaled a long slow breath, causing his shoulders to sag and his chin to drop, making him look far older than his fifty years. The room was quiet except for the soft tick, tick, of the antique brass clock he kept on his credenza. Finally, he shifted his gaze from the window to the tall, slender woman standing before his desk.
"My God, that's it? That’s all there is?"
"That's it," Jane said. "Believe me; we've scanned every log."
Raymond turned the paper over and over in his hands as if it might speak to him, and reveal it's strange secrets. Then he laid it back on the table. "It's a childish riddle, how can we release this?"
Jane could see the same look of frustration in Raymond's face that she felt when she first saw the message. "We can't keep it under wraps for long, Ray; the whole facility saw it come in."
Raymond folded the note and handed it back to Jane. "Is this the only copy?"
"Yes. This, and of course, the printouts down at Arecibo."
"When did it come in?"
"Approximately 0227:18 Puerto Rico's time."
Raymond now knew why Jane looked so tired. As his chief project scientist, Dr. Jane Tanner would be the first person in Houston to be informed when this message arrived.
"My God Jane, if we put this out cold without some kind of explanation, the implications could be devastating. The crazie’s will be out of the woodwork. There's no telling what could happen?"
"I hear you," Jane replied. "But what the hell does it mean? It's beyond anything we expected. After all these years of listening, waiting, we get this riddle."
Raymond shook his head. "We've got to stall as long as possible."
Jane put the note back in her pocket. "I'll get back to Arecibo right now."
Before Jane could leave, Raymond turned from the window. "Have they pinpointed exactly where it came from?"
Jane hesitated, parsing her next words carefully. "From Negus 5, the 4C41.17 sector."
Raymond's face turned ghostly pale. "Oh, my God!" He gasped, isn't that..."
"Yes," Jane interjected. "It's on the edge of the known universe, fifteen billion light-years away!"
At her desk, Jane punched in the code for Arecibo on her satellite link, and Emil Hoffman came on the line. "Emil," Jane began, "I hope you’re not as baffled down there, as we all are up here?"
Emil's voice was unusually excited. "Jane, we don't know whether to laugh or cry, this has thrown us for a loop."
"Emil listen, we've got to keep a lid on this until we can all meet and get a chance to analyze it."
"We could have a problem," Emil replied. "There's a bunch of Caltech students down here, and they know something big is up."
Jane winced, now the rumors would be flying. "How many people have seen the message?"
"Everybody on shift, but we've kept it to just them."
"Good," Jane came back. "I'll be down with a team as fast as I can." Before Jane could congratulate Emil on the discovery, he accidentally tripped the disconnect cutting her off. Jane smiled to herself. The ordinarily staid Astrophysicist was definitely not himself.
The flashing light on Raymond's private line told him that his secretary wanted him. "Yes, Alice," he answered.
"Mr. Willington, there's a reporter from UPI on the line, and she's very persistent.”
Good lord, Raymond thought, they've managed to sniff this out already? "Okay, Alice, put her on."
"Mr. Willington, this is Ann Morris," came the voice on the phone. "We have an unsubstantiated report that you've received an alien transmitted message at your Arecibo telescope. Can you confirm or deny this?"
Raymond paused for a second, searching for the right words. "I cannot comment at this time," he answered. "However, this office will be releasing a formal statement at the very first opportunity."
After he hung up, Raymond looked at the huge star map that graced his wall. It's beginning, he thought to himself. Now his orderly, disciplined world of science was about to be turned upside down.
The air suddenly became cooler as the crowded bus left the coastal plain, and began the long winding drive up to the Arecibo observatory. Plush tropical forests closed in the roadway on both sides, shielding any view of the wide Puerto Rico mountain range beyond. The huge radio telescope that lies ahead is not a telescope really, but a massive 305-meter dish placed in a valley between several mountain peaks. The Arecibo radio telescope is the largest listening device on the planet. It's part of NASA's HRMS project (High-Resolution Microwave Survey) scanning the universe looking for signs of extraterrestrial life.
As they bounced along the dusty mountain roadway, Jane thought of the many late hours sitting at the approaching scope's control panel, monitoring data pouring in from the night sky. Now smelling the damp misty air again, brought back a flood of memories, reminding her how much she missed this place, and the people she had left here.
Finally, late in the afternoon, the dusty van, with its weary group of scientist, arrived at the site. They parked by a scattering of makeshift buildings sitting near the edge of the gaping dish.
"Jane!" The big burly scientist roared. He dropped the readouts he was studying and gave her a bear hug. Suddenly a loud cheer reverberated through the control room. Soon everyone gathered around, giving her welcoming applause. Emil produced a large bottle of champagne. "Surely you didn't think we'd drink this without you, did you?" Emil had kept the bottle in his desk for 33 years, now he broke the seal and poured. He put his arm around Jane and held up his glass. "Here's to Dr. Jane Tanner. From day one, she fought hard for this project, and now more than anyone, she deserves its success."
As they cheered, Jane suddenly became embarrassed. Emil had surprised her with this unexpected attention, and now she was at a loss for words. "Dr. Hoffman," she began, her voice becoming emotional as she held up her glass, "bought this bottle the year we broke ground in 1973. Many scoffed at our goal here, but all of you kept the faith, especially you Emil. And now I want to tell you this is the best-tasting champagne I've ever had."
As Jane began to drink, the events of the last 24 hours suddenly came crashing down on her. She had been in boardrooms too long and away from science. Here was what it was all about. Here they had just made scientific history. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at Emil; he was crying even harder than she was.
The noisy children playing in the sand sounded just fine to Honrich Lindmen. As the busy chief scientist for Bell Labs, his vacations were few and far between. As he sat on the warm Hawaiian beach, galaxies and far off worlds were the last things on his mind. Suddenly the soft music on the patio's small radio was rudely interrupted!
"Reports released minutes ago from a high official source at NASA have been confirmed. Scientists at their huge radio antennae in the Caribbean have just received an alien radio transmitted message. The message its self has not been revealed. We repeat a high..."
Honrich jumped up and grabbed his beach bag. "Honey, get the kids. I'm sorry, I'm afraid our vacation is over!"
Even though Jane had only 24 hours to assemble a team for Arecibo, she had a group of scientists gathered in the briefing room who bore impressive credentials. Included were Dr. Neville Bronski, who, along with his associates, won the Nobel Prize for their work on origins of the universe. Also, there were two of Cornel's top Astrophysicists and theorist on Quantum Mechanics. Plus, many others from Cambridge and Yale who had come as quick as they could for this historic gathering. And now they all sat like nervous school children as Emil began to scratch out the message on the blackboard before them.
When the word “HELLO” was revealed, a loud cheer and applause broke out among the group. But then as Emil slowly chalked in the rest of the message, the room grew disturbingly silent. Jane scanned the assembled faces, it was almost a replay of Raymond’s reaction when she showed him the note back in Houston.
Finally, Emil broke the ice. "I would now like to introduce you to Dr. Alan Thomas.”
Up before the group came a blue-jeaned kid with a bright red shock of unkempt hair, and freckled boyish features. Jane wondered if this young scientist knew of the celebrity that soon would catapult him into the world’s spotlight.
“Alan is a radio astronomer visiting us from Berkeley,” Emil informed them. “He is the person who found the code."
Before Alan could barely speak, he was peppered with a cacophony of questions from around the room. “Order, Order Please!” Jane broke in to gain control. “One at a time, please!”
When all was settled down, Dr. Lee Ito stood up from Columbia University. “Dr. Thomas, are you sure this wording is real and not some phenomenon of scrambled signals, that by coincidence you mistook for code?”
Alan was calm and measured in his reply. He unrolled before them a long print out with yellow markings identifying each section of signals. “This is just the English language section,” he began showing the area to Ito. “Since the exact time it came in, we have identified a match to over 7,000 world languages!”
A stunned silence came over the room.
"See this section, Dr. Ito," Alan went on, pointing to an underlined section of the printout. "It's in ancient Bantu dialect. There are 13 languages in the Bantu grouping alone, 681 sub-languages in Bantoid and 1,514 in Niger-Congo." Alan looked to the other scientists who were by now clearly visibly shaken. "In fact, this code arrived in every written language known, but into sub-dialects. Some of which have not been spoken in over 1000 years."The young scientist held up the print out and exclaimed to the astonished assembly. "This message contains a coded written history of world languages that go back to the very beginnings of recorded civilization.”
The room burst into loud clamor again, and Jane once again had to call it to order. “Do we have a consensus by everyone here.” Jane boldly asked the group. “Is this is an authentic, un-refuted message from extraterrestrial intelligence?"
Suddenly Dr. Bronski arose. “This is all very interesting,” he announced. “But I want an answer to the million-dollar question before I vote, and that is, EXACTLY where did this message come from?”
Jane held her breath as Alan went over to the star chart and pointed to Negus 5.
“This is PREPOSTEROUS!” Bronski angrily shouted. “I cannot accept this. It’s a trick, a fraud! I will not be a part of this delusion.” The great man stormed from the room.
Soon others solemnly stood up and followed him. Alan was left standing alone, silently holding his print out. Jane felt the urge to say something, but instinct told her it would be useless. The world of science would now be divided into many camps. There was no turning back. Those that stayed here this day would be her allies in the fierce battle that lay ahead.
Rain poured relentlessly against the bronze-glass sides of the NASA research building just outside of Houston. Everything in Texas is extreme, including the weather. When it’s hot, Texans can fry eggs on the hoods of cars. When it rains, it comes like a splash from a giant, overfilled bathtub. It hits the ground so hard; it bounces back up, drenching everything, rendering umbrellas useless.
In the meeting room next to Raymond’s office, Honrich Lindmen briefed Raymond, and fellow HRMS scientist Lou Jarvis, on his announcement strategy for the press. Honrich had hastily worked it out during his urgent plane trip back from his ruined vacation in Hawaii.
“We must keep the scientific agenda in a study mode,” Honrich began. “We cannot infer anything about the message’s purpose other than we are working on it.”
Raymond had listened carefully to Honrich's plan. "What about the religious connotations, let alone the junking of modern theory?" He reminded him. " This is a vital moment, Honrich; we are about to release a message that proves we are not alone in the universe. Think of that?"
“Ray,” we can’t hold back any information,” Honrich added intently. “By this time next week, much of it will be out whether we announce it officially or not."
Ray got up and stood at the window, looking out across the rain-soaked complex. "We must be proactive," he asserted. "The message must be guided, explained somehow." He turned and looked at each man as he spoke. "We need more experts involved. There must be some explanation we can use? Hell! I'm ready to go to the pope if need be. I realize we are just the messenger's here, gentlemen. Still, we have a responsibility to see that its impact doesn't produce a world crisis."
Ray’s comments were the obvious concerns that all three men had agonized over. No one spoke. The only sound came from the rain beating on the window.
“Don’t everyone speak at once!” Ray finally added. Nervous laughter filled the small room.
Soon Lou Jarvis spoke up. Lou was the room’s other Astrophysicist besides Honrich. “We can’t possibly reorganize the last 100 hundred years of scientific theory in two days.” Lou began. “But we can at least assemble enough of our colleagues to try and frame a model.’’
“No!” Honrich quickly came in. “Everyone is split on this. You heard about Bronski’s walkout at the Arecibo meeting. Without his, and the views of the others, it’s not credible.”
Ray turned from the window. "Then, who? Academics. Teachers. Theologians. New Age theorist?"
"There is one man," Lou replied.
“There is such a man?” Ray asked.
“Yes. And I never thought I would say this. Nathan Whitesides.”
"Oh, my God!” Honrich groaned. “Not that crackpot.”
Lou paused to form his words carefully. "He's the most brilliant mind of our generation. You know that Honrich, he was once your mentor."
Ray looked over to Honrich. “Is this true?”
Honrich placed his pencil down and pushed aside his notes. “Nathan Whitesides is indeed a great mind, and he could have been the finest physicist of our generation. But he branched off into mysticism and mumbo jumbo theories of the universe. Even the radicals think he’s a fruit bar.”
"Yes, he's an eccentric," added Lou. "But he was one of the first to say the universe is speeding up in its expansion when everyone else was saying it was slowing down."
"I'm against it, Lou.” Honrich shot back now, starting to get agitated. “Damn it! We’ll be the Looney Tunes of science. Is that what this has come to?”
Raymond reached into his papers and took out the Arecibo message with the words TOP SECRET stamped on it. He passed it over to his chief officer. “Honrich, have you forgotten what this means?"
Honrich said nothing.
The two men in the room could see the frustration on Honrich’s face. He knew more than anyone the implications of the message’s impact. Traditional science was now totally upended, and radical thinking would soon become the order of the day.
"I know him," Honrich finally replied with resignation. "He won't see anyone. He's a bloody recluse."
"That's right," Lou added. "We have scorned him too many times. He hates us all. But he might see you. Ray, I've never mentioned this, but he's a big supporter of HRMS, and he would respect you as its main founder."
"But I'm not a physicist," Ray replied, feeling a bit insecure. “I’m just an Astronomer, and for the last 20 years, I've been a damn desk jockey. He’d eat me alive. One of you will have to come with me.”
"No, Ray!" Honrich answered, his voice as sincere as he could make it. "You should go alone, Lou and I are obsolete now. As the leader of the Search for the Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence Project, you are probably the only man he would see."
“Alright then,” Ray sighed. “Let’s get him on the phone.”
Across from the campus at Cambridge University, sits the sprawling brownstone resident professor’s housing area. Here, along the worn brick walkways, world-renowned scientists converse complex mathematical theory as they walk to classes at the main campus. As Raymond entered this area, he carefully studied the little brass nameplates that adorned the doors tucked back into their ivy draped brick facades.
The alien message Raymond was carrying in his pocket made him edgy as hell. There had been reports that radical groups would kill to have it in their possession. The Academy had insisted on a police escort, but Whiteside’s was explicit. “Come alone, or don’t come at all." Nevertheless, there was a bevy of security officers huddled out of sight behind the tall elms bordering the campus parking lot. Finally, Raymond came to the doorway of Nathaniel Alexander Whitesides, Ph.D.
Raymond carefully knocked upon the heavy wooden door. Soon, a small, dowdy woman in a simple print dress came and opened. She quietly escorted him down the inner hall until she stopped at a doorway. She gestured for him to enter, then she disappeared where she came. The room was dark at first, the only light coming from a skylight above. A strong aroma of old musty paper and dust instantly attacked his nostrils. Tall bookshelves, stacked with hundreds of tomes, reached to the ceiling. Raymond made his way around even more piled high books that had found no place on the crowded shelves. He rounded the corner, and there, at last, was revealed the great man himself.
Whitesides was perched behind a large wooden desk. A pipe stuck in his mouth. Smoke trailed its way up until it mingled into the yellow stained ceiling. The man was intent on some manuscript before him and only acknowledged his guest by pointing to an overstuffed chair. Raymond settled uncomfortably into the chair and sank until he was looking up at Whitesides between his knees.
Whitesides extended his arm towards Raymond without looking up from his reading. At first, Raymond thought he was offering a handshake, and then he remembered the message. Ray dug down into his cramped pants pocket and produced the paper. The professor took only a second to read the note, and then he laid it on the desk. He leaned back in his chair and stared in deep concentration out the window.
Fifteen minutes passed by as the two men sat in silence.
Raymond felt extremely uneasy. He glanced at the many book covers to occupy his mind during this maddening quiet. He was surprised to see very few scientific journals. But instead, there were many titles on Zoroastism, Zen, Taoism, Kabbalism, and other obscure religions and mystical beliefs he had never heard of.
At last, Whitesides spoke. "Well, Mr. Willington," he announced. “A fascinating little message, what do you think of it?" He stamped out his pipe and leaned back in his chair.
“I am more concerned to know what you think of it," Raymond replied.
"Me? What can I possibly add to it, Sir?"
Raymond sensed Nathan was playing a little cat and mouse game. He decided to play along. "Well, for one thing, they say you have insight into matters where others have often failed.”
“They say? Who are they?”
“Does it matter?" Raymond replied.
Whitesides looked at him sternly and said nothing. Suddenly, he produced a small bottle of cognac from a drawer and set it down hard on the desktop with a bang. A wry smile crept into his face. "Of course, it doesn't matter," he answered. "Care for a drink, Sir? I find it helpful in clearing the cobwebs sometimes."
The sudden friendliness caught Raymond off guard. He sensed he had passed some little test, and now it would be a great insult not to accept his host's offering. “Yes, I would thank you,” he told the man.
Whitesides arose and bellowed out down the hallway. "ILSA! Bring our guest a glass. Quickly now!"
Soon Ilsa was there, and Whitesides poured the cognac. "Well!" Whitesides exclaimed, "I had hoped that someday the universe would speak to us, and here you are, Mr. Willington." He tipped his glass in a salute to his startled guest.
Raymond joined Whitesides in a little toast. Then he got to the matter at hand. "What do you think it means?"
“Ah. You are looking for an answer?” Whitesides asked.
“Yes, something. Anything.”
“There can be no answer.” He stated flatly.
“I don’t follow?” Raymond added incredulously. “This message implies that intelligent life predates our universe, that someone knew about us before we even existed. It was sent over 15 billion light-years ago in every language we have!”
“No! It was sent only yesterday.” Whitesides replied.
Raymond tried to gather his composure. "I can tell you, sir, that it came from the deepest part of space.”
"Of course it did. Actually, much more than 15 billion light-years away.”
Raymond sat down his glass. Now they were getting into multi-dimensional theory. "Are you saying from another dimension?"
“Many would say that," Whitesides replied. "It helps to ease their little minds.” He held up the bottle again, “care for another drink?”
"I think I need one," Raymond answered, trying to get his head around the enormity of this last statement. "Are you saying String Theory is for simple minds?"
"It's not that easy," Whitesides answered with a dismissive gesture. "It's much bigger than implied dimensions; it means that we can't measure time-existence in our terms." Whitesides filled Raymond's glass again. "May I call you by your first name?"
“Yes, of course.”
“Ray,” he began. “There can be no answers because there are no questions.”
“But the message itself asks a question," Raymond noted. "It's sent to us, but it seems to be speaking to someone else. Who is this “Sad Lady?” Why is she important?”
Whitesides produced a broad smile. "Ah, yes. Charming, isn't it? But why does its meaning have to have importance, Ray? Can't we see it as our friendly little note from space? That is its true importance, Ray. We can no more reply to it, than this pipe in this tray, can tell me to stop lighting it."
Raymond wondered at Whiteside's reasoning, "Then why was it sent?”
"I told you we couldn't answer."
Ray gathered his thoughts. "I'm a scientist, my religious belief is irreverent, but this message will shake religion to its foundation. Many will doubt the existence of God?"
"Oh, but God certainly does exist," Whitesides replied, somewhat amused. "And you're looking at him."
“What are you implying now?”
“I’m saying we are all God! God is in us. That’s really what all the ancient writings have said all along.”
Raymond was getting tired of this game. “Religion sees God as the creator.”
"Yes, and that's what we are," Whitesides replied.
“And what worlds have we created?”
“Why our children Ray, and their children and beyond. Without our minds to perceive existence, these worlds don’t exist."
“But God is eternal?“
"We are all made of the eternal DNA chemistry of life. You and I, and the distant being’s that sent this message. If you are looking for God, Ray, look inside yourself."
Raymond’s frustration was getting the better of him. "I'm looking for logic, Nathan, and all you are giving me is riddles."
"Whitesides picked the Arecibo message up and handed it to his guest. “You are the one who came bearing riddles, sir!" Let us not talk of logic!"
Raymond slumped back down in his chair. Damn that message, he thought to himself. It defies all reasoning; it is like a slap in the face. He took his cognac up and sipped its contents, rolling the sharp liquid around in his mouth.
Whitesides offered him the bottle again. “See, it helps the cobwebs, Ray. Another drink?" Raymond nodded, and Whitesides poured his glass. The cognac was loosening Raymond up a bit now.
"Is it that straight forward, Nathan.” Raymond began, looking for some common ground with his newfound drinking partner. “The staggering complexity of the universe?”
Whitesides gestured to all the books in his library. “See all this knowledge, Ray. I have struggled my whole life to put it into mathematical equations. I looked for answers in a formula, but still, as I reached each roadblock of understanding, I realized that the truth lies beyond the nuts and bolts of science. If I had the infinite power to pursue it all, I would not find an end solution, but an endless chain of transition. Eternity is so elegant, Ray.”
“But what of us,” Raymond challenged,“ isn’t that the ultimate truth. Who are we? Why are we here?”
“Questions. Questions, you're not listening to me, Ray, have another drink."
Raymond could feel the cognac work its smooth liquid magic. He relaxed and let the deep, enfolding chair hold him like a womb. He thought of the startling events of the last two days. Of his team members, Honrich, and Lou, now forced to doubt a lifetime of study. And the rebellion at Arecibo, and now he wondered if it all was that earth-shaking and necessary.
"I'm trying to understand you, Nathan, but I cannot grasp that there is no answer or meaning."
"That's because you have jumbled your mind with our world, Ray. The Arecibo message speaks to us only one thing. Expect everything—life owes us no explanation.”
“You talk as if you have considered beings from beyond our dimension?”
“That is the great truth of existence.” The professor’s voice was now becoming almost passionate. He sat down his glass and leaned forward. “It means that whatever possibly can exist, therefore WILL exist. There is nothing we can omit over the endless expanse of forever. Everything's been tried, over and over, until each miracle arrives after endless trial. One of those miracles is our existence here on this tiny asteroid Ray. When you accept that, then you are free from all boundaries, and nothing will mystify you. You will need no answers.”
As Raymond finally prepared to leave, he turned to the scientist one more time at the doorway. "Sir, I cannot accept your mysticism as the final answer, but I am forced to accept the fact that the message is real. Is there anything we can tell them anything that will help with this difficult task?"
Whitesides grabbed Raymond's arm and held it firm to show the conviction in what he was about to say.
"Tell them the message refutes nothing. You and I cannot alter what will occur, any more than we can stop the galaxies from spiraling. The world will unfold, as it will. Whether you accept a creator or not, there will always be turmoil in this world. Righteousness will raise its ugly head and take its toll on innocent lives—all in the cloud of ignorance. But there also will be correction and reckoning. We must see past our small world, and out to the stars, and know our place among them. "That's the one thing that you can tell them, Ray."
Then Whitesides turned back into his house and shut the door.
EPILOG
Lisa carefully removed the doll from the painted toy box under her bed. She took one doll up and examined the locket around its neck. "Why does she have a locket, mommy?"
“Your granddad put it there so it would never be lost.” Her mother replied.
“What’s inside the locket?”
“Open it and see Lisa."
Lisa snapped open the small case. Inside on the lid was an engraved inscription.
“Why don’t you read it?” her mother asked.
Lisa carefully read the tiny poem. “Milk and silk and ice white moons. Rust and dust and stars on spoons. What does it mean?”
“Granddad engraved it there. He told me there’s a whole world inside it, and those are some of its things."
“How did grandpa know about the world?”
“He worked at a place called a science lab. One day he found this far off place, but no matter how much he tried, he could not talk to them. So the lab gave him other work. But grandpa couldn’t just throw away his discovery, so he put their location in this locket, and gave it to me. And I gave it to you.
“What's the doll's name?"
“I called her Sad Lady because she looks so sad."
“Can I try to talk to the world in the locket?” Lisa asked.
"Well, grandpa never thought of that," her mother laughed. Who knows, maybe they will hear you?"
Lisa put the small locket close to her mouth. “Hello!” she said softly, waiting for a reply, but there was none. She studied the doll's unhappy face. “Is sad lady crying?”
“No, just sad.”
“Why is she so sad?”
"I think grandpa picked her because he couldn't talk to the world, so he was sad too." Lisa's mother looked up at the clock on the bedroom wall. "Its time to put her away now, it's late, and past your bedtime."
“Goodnight, Sad lady," Lisa said. She closed the little locket and placed the doll back in the painted box with the other toys. Then she pushed the box back under her bed.
Short Story Drama contest entry
HELLO. IS SAD LADY CRYING? WHY IS SHE SO SAD? GOOD NIGHT SAD LADY.
Raymond leaned slowly back in his chair and gazed to the window. He wasn't looking for anything in particular. He just needed time to think. He exhaled a long slow breath, causing his shoulders to sag and his chin to drop, making him look far older than his fifty years. The room was quiet except for the soft tick, tick, of the antique brass clock he kept on his credenza. Finally, he shifted his gaze from the window to the tall, slender woman standing before his desk.
"My God, that's it? That’s all there is?"
"That's it," Jane said. "Believe me; we've scanned every log."
Raymond turned the paper over and over in his hands as if it might speak to him, and reveal it's strange secrets. Then he laid it back on the table. "It's a childish riddle, how can we release this?"
Jane could see the same look of frustration in Raymond's face that she felt when she first saw the message. "We can't keep it under wraps for long, Ray; the whole facility saw it come in."
Raymond folded the note and handed it back to Jane. "Is this the only copy?"
"Yes. This, and of course, the printouts down at Arecibo."
"When did it come in?"
"Approximately 0227:18 Puerto Rico's time."
Raymond now knew why Jane looked so tired. As his chief project scientist, Dr. Jane Tanner would be the first person in Houston to be informed when this message arrived.
"My God Jane, if we put this out cold without some kind of explanation, the implications could be devastating. The crazie’s will be out of the woodwork. There's no telling what could happen?"
"I hear you," Jane replied. "But what the hell does it mean? It's beyond anything we expected. After all these years of listening, waiting, we get this riddle."
Raymond shook his head. "We've got to stall as long as possible."
Jane put the note back in her pocket. "I'll get back to Arecibo right now."
Before Jane could leave, Raymond turned from the window. "Have they pinpointed exactly where it came from?"
Jane hesitated, parsing her next words carefully. "From Negus 5, the 4C41.17 sector."
Raymond's face turned ghostly pale. "Oh, my God!" He gasped, isn't that..."
"Yes," Jane interjected. "It's on the edge of the known universe, fifteen billion light-years away!"
At her desk, Jane punched in the code for Arecibo on her satellite link, and Emil Hoffman came on the line. "Emil," Jane began, "I hope you’re not as baffled down there, as we all are up here?"
Emil's voice was unusually excited. "Jane, we don't know whether to laugh or cry, this has thrown us for a loop."
"Emil listen, we've got to keep a lid on this until we can all meet and get a chance to analyze it."
"We could have a problem," Emil replied. "There's a bunch of Caltech students down here, and they know something big is up."
Jane winced, now the rumors would be flying. "How many people have seen the message?"
"Everybody on shift, but we've kept it to just them."
"Good," Jane came back. "I'll be down with a team as fast as I can." Before Jane could congratulate Emil on the discovery, he accidentally tripped the disconnect cutting her off. Jane smiled to herself. The ordinarily staid Astrophysicist was definitely not himself.
The flashing light on Raymond's private line told him that his secretary wanted him. "Yes, Alice," he answered.
"Mr. Willington, there's a reporter from UPI on the line, and she's very persistent.”
Good lord, Raymond thought, they've managed to sniff this out already? "Okay, Alice, put her on."
"Mr. Willington, this is Ann Morris," came the voice on the phone. "We have an unsubstantiated report that you've received an alien transmitted message at your Arecibo telescope. Can you confirm or deny this?"
Raymond paused for a second, searching for the right words. "I cannot comment at this time," he answered. "However, this office will be releasing a formal statement at the very first opportunity."
After he hung up, Raymond looked at the huge star map that graced his wall. It's beginning, he thought to himself. Now his orderly, disciplined world of science was about to be turned upside down.
The air suddenly became cooler as the crowded bus left the coastal plain, and began the long winding drive up to the Arecibo observatory. Plush tropical forests closed in the roadway on both sides, shielding any view of the wide Puerto Rico mountain range beyond. The huge radio telescope that lies ahead is not a telescope really, but a massive 305-meter dish placed in a valley between several mountain peaks. The Arecibo radio telescope is the largest listening device on the planet. It's part of NASA's HRMS project (High-Resolution Microwave Survey) scanning the universe looking for signs of extraterrestrial life.
As they bounced along the dusty mountain roadway, Jane thought of the many late hours sitting at the approaching scope's control panel, monitoring data pouring in from the night sky. Now smelling the damp misty air again, brought back a flood of memories, reminding her how much she missed this place, and the people she had left here.
Finally, late in the afternoon, the dusty van, with its weary group of scientist, arrived at the site. They parked by a scattering of makeshift buildings sitting near the edge of the gaping dish.
"Jane!" The big burly scientist roared. He dropped the readouts he was studying and gave her a bear hug. Suddenly a loud cheer reverberated through the control room. Soon everyone gathered around, giving her welcoming applause. Emil produced a large bottle of champagne. "Surely you didn't think we'd drink this without you, did you?" Emil had kept the bottle in his desk for 33 years, now he broke the seal and poured. He put his arm around Jane and held up his glass. "Here's to Dr. Jane Tanner. From day one, she fought hard for this project, and now more than anyone, she deserves its success."
As they cheered, Jane suddenly became embarrassed. Emil had surprised her with this unexpected attention, and now she was at a loss for words. "Dr. Hoffman," she began, her voice becoming emotional as she held up her glass, "bought this bottle the year we broke ground in 1973. Many scoffed at our goal here, but all of you kept the faith, especially you Emil. And now I want to tell you this is the best-tasting champagne I've ever had."
As Jane began to drink, the events of the last 24 hours suddenly came crashing down on her. She had been in boardrooms too long and away from science. Here was what it was all about. Here they had just made scientific history. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at Emil; he was crying even harder than she was.
The noisy children playing in the sand sounded just fine to Honrich Lindmen. As the busy chief scientist for Bell Labs, his vacations were few and far between. As he sat on the warm Hawaiian beach, galaxies and far off worlds were the last things on his mind. Suddenly the soft music on the patio's small radio was rudely interrupted!
"Reports released minutes ago from a high official source at NASA have been confirmed. Scientists at their huge radio antennae in the Caribbean have just received an alien radio transmitted message. The message its self has not been revealed. We repeat a high..."
Honrich jumped up and grabbed his beach bag. "Honey, get the kids. I'm sorry, I'm afraid our vacation is over!"
Even though Jane had only 24 hours to assemble a team for Arecibo, she had a group of scientists gathered in the briefing room who bore impressive credentials. Included were Dr. Neville Bronski, who, along with his associates, won the Nobel Prize for their work on origins of the universe. Also, there were two of Cornel's top Astrophysicists and theorist on Quantum Mechanics. Plus, many others from Cambridge and Yale who had come as quick as they could for this historic gathering. And now they all sat like nervous school children as Emil began to scratch out the message on the blackboard before them.
When the word “HELLO” was revealed, a loud cheer and applause broke out among the group. But then as Emil slowly chalked in the rest of the message, the room grew disturbingly silent. Jane scanned the assembled faces, it was almost a replay of Raymond’s reaction when she showed him the note back in Houston.
Finally, Emil broke the ice. "I would now like to introduce you to Dr. Alan Thomas.”
Up before the group came a blue-jeaned kid with a bright red shock of unkempt hair, and freckled boyish features. Jane wondered if this young scientist knew of the celebrity that soon would catapult him into the world’s spotlight.
“Alan is a radio astronomer visiting us from Berkeley,” Emil informed them. “He is the person who found the code."
Before Alan could barely speak, he was peppered with a cacophony of questions from around the room. “Order, Order Please!” Jane broke in to gain control. “One at a time, please!”
When all was settled down, Dr. Lee Ito stood up from Columbia University. “Dr. Thomas, are you sure this wording is real and not some phenomenon of scrambled signals, that by coincidence you mistook for code?”
Alan was calm and measured in his reply. He unrolled before them a long print out with yellow markings identifying each section of signals. “This is just the English language section,” he began showing the area to Ito. “Since the exact time it came in, we have identified a match to over 7,000 world languages!”
A stunned silence came over the room.
"See this section, Dr. Ito," Alan went on, pointing to an underlined section of the printout. "It's in ancient Bantu dialect. There are 13 languages in the Bantu grouping alone, 681 sub-languages in Bantoid and 1,514 in Niger-Congo." Alan looked to the other scientists who were by now clearly visibly shaken. "In fact, this code arrived in every written language known, but into sub-dialects. Some of which have not been spoken in over 1000 years."The young scientist held up the print out and exclaimed to the astonished assembly. "This message contains a coded written history of world languages that go back to the very beginnings of recorded civilization.”
The room burst into loud clamor again, and Jane once again had to call it to order. “Do we have a consensus by everyone here.” Jane boldly asked the group. “Is this is an authentic, un-refuted message from extraterrestrial intelligence?"
Suddenly Dr. Bronski arose. “This is all very interesting,” he announced. “But I want an answer to the million-dollar question before I vote, and that is, EXACTLY where did this message come from?”
Jane held her breath as Alan went over to the star chart and pointed to Negus 5.
“This is PREPOSTEROUS!” Bronski angrily shouted. “I cannot accept this. It’s a trick, a fraud! I will not be a part of this delusion.” The great man stormed from the room.
Soon others solemnly stood up and followed him. Alan was left standing alone, silently holding his print out. Jane felt the urge to say something, but instinct told her it would be useless. The world of science would now be divided into many camps. There was no turning back. Those that stayed here this day would be her allies in the fierce battle that lay ahead.
Rain poured relentlessly against the bronze-glass sides of the NASA research building just outside of Houston. Everything in Texas is extreme, including the weather. When it’s hot, Texans can fry eggs on the hoods of cars. When it rains, it comes like a splash from a giant, overfilled bathtub. It hits the ground so hard; it bounces back up, drenching everything, rendering umbrellas useless.
In the meeting room next to Raymond’s office, Honrich Lindmen briefed Raymond, and fellow HRMS scientist Lou Jarvis, on his announcement strategy for the press. Honrich had hastily worked it out during his urgent plane trip back from his ruined vacation in Hawaii.
“We must keep the scientific agenda in a study mode,” Honrich began. “We cannot infer anything about the message’s purpose other than we are working on it.”
Raymond had listened carefully to Honrich's plan. "What about the religious connotations, let alone the junking of modern theory?" He reminded him. " This is a vital moment, Honrich; we are about to release a message that proves we are not alone in the universe. Think of that?"
“Ray,” we can’t hold back any information,” Honrich added intently. “By this time next week, much of it will be out whether we announce it officially or not."
Ray got up and stood at the window, looking out across the rain-soaked complex. "We must be proactive," he asserted. "The message must be guided, explained somehow." He turned and looked at each man as he spoke. "We need more experts involved. There must be some explanation we can use? Hell! I'm ready to go to the pope if need be. I realize we are just the messenger's here, gentlemen. Still, we have a responsibility to see that its impact doesn't produce a world crisis."
Ray’s comments were the obvious concerns that all three men had agonized over. No one spoke. The only sound came from the rain beating on the window.
“Don’t everyone speak at once!” Ray finally added. Nervous laughter filled the small room.
Soon Lou Jarvis spoke up. Lou was the room’s other Astrophysicist besides Honrich. “We can’t possibly reorganize the last 100 hundred years of scientific theory in two days.” Lou began. “But we can at least assemble enough of our colleagues to try and frame a model.’’
“No!” Honrich quickly came in. “Everyone is split on this. You heard about Bronski’s walkout at the Arecibo meeting. Without his, and the views of the others, it’s not credible.”
Ray turned from the window. "Then, who? Academics. Teachers. Theologians. New Age theorist?"
"There is one man," Lou replied.
“There is such a man?” Ray asked.
“Yes. And I never thought I would say this. Nathan Whitesides.”
"Oh, my God!” Honrich groaned. “Not that crackpot.”
Lou paused to form his words carefully. "He's the most brilliant mind of our generation. You know that Honrich, he was once your mentor."
Ray looked over to Honrich. “Is this true?”
Honrich placed his pencil down and pushed aside his notes. “Nathan Whitesides is indeed a great mind, and he could have been the finest physicist of our generation. But he branched off into mysticism and mumbo jumbo theories of the universe. Even the radicals think he’s a fruit bar.”
"Yes, he's an eccentric," added Lou. "But he was one of the first to say the universe is speeding up in its expansion when everyone else was saying it was slowing down."
"I'm against it, Lou.” Honrich shot back now, starting to get agitated. “Damn it! We’ll be the Looney Tunes of science. Is that what this has come to?”
Raymond reached into his papers and took out the Arecibo message with the words TOP SECRET stamped on it. He passed it over to his chief officer. “Honrich, have you forgotten what this means?"
Honrich said nothing.
The two men in the room could see the frustration on Honrich’s face. He knew more than anyone the implications of the message’s impact. Traditional science was now totally upended, and radical thinking would soon become the order of the day.
"I know him," Honrich finally replied with resignation. "He won't see anyone. He's a bloody recluse."
"That's right," Lou added. "We have scorned him too many times. He hates us all. But he might see you. Ray, I've never mentioned this, but he's a big supporter of HRMS, and he would respect you as its main founder."
"But I'm not a physicist," Ray replied, feeling a bit insecure. “I’m just an Astronomer, and for the last 20 years, I've been a damn desk jockey. He’d eat me alive. One of you will have to come with me.”
"No, Ray!" Honrich answered, his voice as sincere as he could make it. "You should go alone, Lou and I are obsolete now. As the leader of the Search for the Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence Project, you are probably the only man he would see."
“Alright then,” Ray sighed. “Let’s get him on the phone.”
Across from the campus at Cambridge University, sits the sprawling brownstone resident professor’s housing area. Here, along the worn brick walkways, world-renowned scientists converse complex mathematical theory as they walk to classes at the main campus. As Raymond entered this area, he carefully studied the little brass nameplates that adorned the doors tucked back into their ivy draped brick facades.
The alien message Raymond was carrying in his pocket made him edgy as hell. There had been reports that radical groups would kill to have it in their possession. The Academy had insisted on a police escort, but Whiteside’s was explicit. “Come alone, or don’t come at all." Nevertheless, there was a bevy of security officers huddled out of sight behind the tall elms bordering the campus parking lot. Finally, Raymond came to the doorway of Nathaniel Alexander Whitesides, Ph.D.
Raymond carefully knocked upon the heavy wooden door. Soon, a small, dowdy woman in a simple print dress came and opened. She quietly escorted him down the inner hall until she stopped at a doorway. She gestured for him to enter, then she disappeared where she came. The room was dark at first, the only light coming from a skylight above. A strong aroma of old musty paper and dust instantly attacked his nostrils. Tall bookshelves, stacked with hundreds of tomes, reached to the ceiling. Raymond made his way around even more piled high books that had found no place on the crowded shelves. He rounded the corner, and there, at last, was revealed the great man himself.
Whitesides was perched behind a large wooden desk. A pipe stuck in his mouth. Smoke trailed its way up until it mingled into the yellow stained ceiling. The man was intent on some manuscript before him and only acknowledged his guest by pointing to an overstuffed chair. Raymond settled uncomfortably into the chair and sank until he was looking up at Whitesides between his knees.
Whitesides extended his arm towards Raymond without looking up from his reading. At first, Raymond thought he was offering a handshake, and then he remembered the message. Ray dug down into his cramped pants pocket and produced the paper. The professor took only a second to read the note, and then he laid it on the desk. He leaned back in his chair and stared in deep concentration out the window.
Fifteen minutes passed by as the two men sat in silence.
Raymond felt extremely uneasy. He glanced at the many book covers to occupy his mind during this maddening quiet. He was surprised to see very few scientific journals. But instead, there were many titles on Zoroastism, Zen, Taoism, Kabbalism, and other obscure religions and mystical beliefs he had never heard of.
At last, Whitesides spoke. "Well, Mr. Willington," he announced. “A fascinating little message, what do you think of it?" He stamped out his pipe and leaned back in his chair.
“I am more concerned to know what you think of it," Raymond replied.
"Me? What can I possibly add to it, Sir?"
Raymond sensed Nathan was playing a little cat and mouse game. He decided to play along. "Well, for one thing, they say you have insight into matters where others have often failed.”
“They say? Who are they?”
“Does it matter?" Raymond replied.
Whitesides looked at him sternly and said nothing. Suddenly, he produced a small bottle of cognac from a drawer and set it down hard on the desktop with a bang. A wry smile crept into his face. "Of course, it doesn't matter," he answered. "Care for a drink, Sir? I find it helpful in clearing the cobwebs sometimes."
The sudden friendliness caught Raymond off guard. He sensed he had passed some little test, and now it would be a great insult not to accept his host's offering. “Yes, I would thank you,” he told the man.
Whitesides arose and bellowed out down the hallway. "ILSA! Bring our guest a glass. Quickly now!"
Soon Ilsa was there, and Whitesides poured the cognac. "Well!" Whitesides exclaimed, "I had hoped that someday the universe would speak to us, and here you are, Mr. Willington." He tipped his glass in a salute to his startled guest.
Raymond joined Whitesides in a little toast. Then he got to the matter at hand. "What do you think it means?"
“Ah. You are looking for an answer?” Whitesides asked.
“Yes, something. Anything.”
“There can be no answer.” He stated flatly.
“I don’t follow?” Raymond added incredulously. “This message implies that intelligent life predates our universe, that someone knew about us before we even existed. It was sent over 15 billion light-years ago in every language we have!”
“No! It was sent only yesterday.” Whitesides replied.
Raymond tried to gather his composure. "I can tell you, sir, that it came from the deepest part of space.”
"Of course it did. Actually, much more than 15 billion light-years away.”
Raymond sat down his glass. Now they were getting into multi-dimensional theory. "Are you saying from another dimension?"
“Many would say that," Whitesides replied. "It helps to ease their little minds.” He held up the bottle again, “care for another drink?”
"I think I need one," Raymond answered, trying to get his head around the enormity of this last statement. "Are you saying String Theory is for simple minds?"
"It's not that easy," Whitesides answered with a dismissive gesture. "It's much bigger than implied dimensions; it means that we can't measure time-existence in our terms." Whitesides filled Raymond's glass again. "May I call you by your first name?"
“Yes, of course.”
“Ray,” he began. “There can be no answers because there are no questions.”
“But the message itself asks a question," Raymond noted. "It's sent to us, but it seems to be speaking to someone else. Who is this “Sad Lady?” Why is she important?”
Whitesides produced a broad smile. "Ah, yes. Charming, isn't it? But why does its meaning have to have importance, Ray? Can't we see it as our friendly little note from space? That is its true importance, Ray. We can no more reply to it, than this pipe in this tray, can tell me to stop lighting it."
Raymond wondered at Whiteside's reasoning, "Then why was it sent?”
"I told you we couldn't answer."
Ray gathered his thoughts. "I'm a scientist, my religious belief is irreverent, but this message will shake religion to its foundation. Many will doubt the existence of God?"
"Oh, but God certainly does exist," Whitesides replied, somewhat amused. "And you're looking at him."
“What are you implying now?”
“I’m saying we are all God! God is in us. That’s really what all the ancient writings have said all along.”
Raymond was getting tired of this game. “Religion sees God as the creator.”
"Yes, and that's what we are," Whitesides replied.
“And what worlds have we created?”
“Why our children Ray, and their children and beyond. Without our minds to perceive existence, these worlds don’t exist."
“But God is eternal?“
"We are all made of the eternal DNA chemistry of life. You and I, and the distant being’s that sent this message. If you are looking for God, Ray, look inside yourself."
Raymond’s frustration was getting the better of him. "I'm looking for logic, Nathan, and all you are giving me is riddles."
"Whitesides picked the Arecibo message up and handed it to his guest. “You are the one who came bearing riddles, sir!" Let us not talk of logic!"
Raymond slumped back down in his chair. Damn that message, he thought to himself. It defies all reasoning; it is like a slap in the face. He took his cognac up and sipped its contents, rolling the sharp liquid around in his mouth.
Whitesides offered him the bottle again. “See, it helps the cobwebs, Ray. Another drink?" Raymond nodded, and Whitesides poured his glass. The cognac was loosening Raymond up a bit now.
"Is it that straight forward, Nathan.” Raymond began, looking for some common ground with his newfound drinking partner. “The staggering complexity of the universe?”
Whitesides gestured to all the books in his library. “See all this knowledge, Ray. I have struggled my whole life to put it into mathematical equations. I looked for answers in a formula, but still, as I reached each roadblock of understanding, I realized that the truth lies beyond the nuts and bolts of science. If I had the infinite power to pursue it all, I would not find an end solution, but an endless chain of transition. Eternity is so elegant, Ray.”
“But what of us,” Raymond challenged,“ isn’t that the ultimate truth. Who are we? Why are we here?”
“Questions. Questions, you're not listening to me, Ray, have another drink."
Raymond could feel the cognac work its smooth liquid magic. He relaxed and let the deep, enfolding chair hold him like a womb. He thought of the startling events of the last two days. Of his team members, Honrich, and Lou, now forced to doubt a lifetime of study. And the rebellion at Arecibo, and now he wondered if it all was that earth-shaking and necessary.
"I'm trying to understand you, Nathan, but I cannot grasp that there is no answer or meaning."
"That's because you have jumbled your mind with our world, Ray. The Arecibo message speaks to us only one thing. Expect everything—life owes us no explanation.”
“You talk as if you have considered beings from beyond our dimension?”
“That is the great truth of existence.” The professor’s voice was now becoming almost passionate. He sat down his glass and leaned forward. “It means that whatever possibly can exist, therefore WILL exist. There is nothing we can omit over the endless expanse of forever. Everything's been tried, over and over, until each miracle arrives after endless trial. One of those miracles is our existence here on this tiny asteroid Ray. When you accept that, then you are free from all boundaries, and nothing will mystify you. You will need no answers.”
As Raymond finally prepared to leave, he turned to the scientist one more time at the doorway. "Sir, I cannot accept your mysticism as the final answer, but I am forced to accept the fact that the message is real. Is there anything we can tell them anything that will help with this difficult task?"
Whitesides grabbed Raymond's arm and held it firm to show the conviction in what he was about to say.
"Tell them the message refutes nothing. You and I cannot alter what will occur, any more than we can stop the galaxies from spiraling. The world will unfold, as it will. Whether you accept a creator or not, there will always be turmoil in this world. Righteousness will raise its ugly head and take its toll on innocent lives—all in the cloud of ignorance. But there also will be correction and reckoning. We must see past our small world, and out to the stars, and know our place among them. "That's the one thing that you can tell them, Ray."
Then Whitesides turned back into his house and shut the door.
EPILOG
Lisa carefully removed the doll from the painted toy box under her bed. She took one doll up and examined the locket around its neck. "Why does she have a locket, mommy?"
“Your granddad put it there so it would never be lost.” Her mother replied.
“What’s inside the locket?”
“Open it and see Lisa."
Lisa snapped open the small case. Inside on the lid was an engraved inscription.
“Why don’t you read it?” her mother asked.
Lisa carefully read the tiny poem. “Milk and silk and ice white moons. Rust and dust and stars on spoons. What does it mean?”
“Granddad engraved it there. He told me there’s a whole world inside it, and those are some of its things."
“How did grandpa know about the world?”
“He worked at a place called a science lab. One day he found this far off place, but no matter how much he tried, he could not talk to them. So the lab gave him other work. But grandpa couldn’t just throw away his discovery, so he put their location in this locket, and gave it to me. And I gave it to you.
“What's the doll's name?"
“I called her Sad Lady because she looks so sad."
“Can I try to talk to the world in the locket?” Lisa asked.
"Well, grandpa never thought of that," her mother laughed. Who knows, maybe they will hear you?"
Lisa put the small locket close to her mouth. “Hello!” she said softly, waiting for a reply, but there was none. She studied the doll's unhappy face. “Is sad lady crying?”
“No, just sad.”
“Why is she so sad?”
"I think grandpa picked her because he couldn't talk to the world, so he was sad too." Lisa's mother looked up at the clock on the bedroom wall. "Its time to put her away now, it's late, and past your bedtime."
“Goodnight, Sad lady," Lisa said. She closed the little locket and placed the doll back in the painted box with the other toys. Then she pushed the box back under her bed.
“Your granddad put it there so it would never be lost.” Her mother replied.
“What’s inside the locket?”
“Open it and see Lisa."
Lisa snapped open the small case. Inside on the lid was an engraved inscription.
“Why don’t you read it?” her mother asked.
Lisa carefully read the tiny poem. “Milk and silk and ice white moons. Rust and dust and stars on spoons. What does it mean?”
“Granddad engraved it there. He told me there’s a whole world inside it, and those are some of its things."
“How did grandpa know about the world?”
“He worked at a place called a science lab. One day he found this far off place, but no matter how much he tried, he could not talk to them. So the lab gave him other work. But grandpa couldn’t just throw away his discovery, so he put their location in this locket, and gave it to me. And I gave it to you.
“What's the doll's name?"
“I called her Sad Lady because she looks so sad."
“Can I try to talk to the world in the locket?” Lisa asked.
"Well, grandpa never thought of that," her mother laughed. Who knows, maybe they will hear you?"
Lisa put the small locket close to her mouth. “Hello!” she said softly, waiting for a reply, but there was none. She studied the doll's unhappy face. “Is sad lady crying?”
“No, just sad.”
“Why is she so sad?”
"I think grandpa picked her because he couldn't talk to the world, so he was sad too." Lisa's mother looked up at the clock on the bedroom wall. "Its time to put her away now, it's late, and past your bedtime."
“Goodnight, Sad lady," Lisa said. She closed the little locket and placed the doll back in the painted box with the other toys. Then she pushed the box back under her bed.
I wrote this story 34 years ago. My children were young and I saw them in this story through Lisa's eyes. Today, my beliefs are a bit different on existence and God. I wanted to consider a more satisfying answer. Many times I came back to this story, and sought to change it. Each time I failed. When I joined FanStory, I wanted to place it, but I still agonized over its ending. I felt I needed to give an uplifting answer. Then I thought, who am I to provide any answer? The ending is an analogy of life so far beyond our world, only a child's imagination could reach us, and keep us in their imaginary world. A toy box.
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