by Dan Edmund
Chapter 18 - On Music and the Stars
Apart from major psychiatric problems, Harry's transformation of his actual character was always temporary. I knew change would not be forced upon him; change had to come willingly. So he still grumbled, even argued. However, each day he seemingly improved. To me at least, he was like a marble sculpture, or a beautiful piece of music that slowly took on the desired shape and form. Although I believed he was no longer having vivid dreams of his former life, he still needed to test the reality of this world. He also took up my suggestion about writing about it, particularly the history leading up to Armageddon. Thus, for the next few days, I found him writing and interviewing people who had lived through this earth-shattering time. In our village, he found five, three that were actual Armageddon survivors, the other two dying just previously during the global Ebola pandemic. However, this did not satisfy him.
"Where can I find more eyewitnesses?" he moaned on the sixth day since his resurrection.
"What's wrong with the ones here in Deer Park?"
He ignored my question and again asked for more witnesses.
I gave him a cheeky grin. "I've heard that there are many survivors about five hundred miles to the south."
He sneered. "What! How in the world do you expect me to get there? By car? You people don't even ride horses because you think it's not nice to the horse, or some such nonsense."
"No, it's not nonsense," I countered. "We don't want animals to be beasts of burden. All animals in Paradise live in perfect peace and freedom, and we don't interfere with that law. However, we do have our legs which carry us anywhere we need to go."
"But you keep a dog as a pet, as do others in and around the village. Yesterday, I even met someone who kept a skunk!"
I chuckled. "They don't stink anymore! Besides," I added more soberly, "all these animals are free to come and go as they please."
"Great! Animals have won their rights at last! However, that still doesn't help me with my research."
"Why? Aren't the witnesses you already have enough? I mean, five witnesses should be enough."
He scowled. "No, they're not! One of them told me that she was too young to remember. Then one told me he doesn't want to remember because it was too shocking. Another one wants to, but can't remember any more than what's already written in your so-called Paradise Text. Finally, the other two have conflicting reports because they were in different parts of the world, and neither one of them were supposed survivors of Armageddon because they both died of Ebola. So how in the world can I write a proper history with that?" He shook his head in despair. "History! My God, no wonder I still can't accept this world as being real!"
I ignored his last statement and simply replied, "Well, I suppose you just have to find more witnesses." I paused to reflect. "Wait a moment, I do remember hearing that another couple survived Armageddon, and live somewhere east of here, and not too far away."
"Where?"
I smiled and shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I think they live somewhere outside the village of Tranquil, just a day's journey from here. I'm sure someone in the village would know. But anyway, I'm going to help with the housing construction today. Do you want to come?"
"No!" he barked. "I still have too much work to do."
"Okay, so I'll see you this afternoon for your next lesson," I said as we departed our separate ways.
"Yes, sure. I can hardly wait!" he sarcastically replied - right now, learning to play the guitar was not high on his agenda.
