“But no,” she chided herself, “you always have to let your passions run wild. Now look where that has led us!”
Then Faye would long for the happy light in Wonder and try to recall the special words Mr. Keeze had spoken to her, but over time those words grew very faint in her memory.
Sometimes both Frank and Faye felt like they were free-falling into the darkness, and ti was then that Frank would comfort his wife by reminding her of their exhilarating drop inside of the Wonderous tunnelslide, which they later learned was a pollen tube making its way down the flower stem and into its ovary.
Recalling their thrilling descent, the couple would remember they had been screaming, just like kids, at the top of their lungs in sheer joy, as they simply trusted. Inside the memory of being in that pollen tube as it reached relentlessly into the darkness, Faye and Frank could learn to trust again when they thought of the glowing pollen cells guiding them to the brink of a continuing cliff, upon a living conduit that never let them fall. Somehow, back in their own world, on the brink of a seemingly never-ending precipice, a sense of Purpose and peace offered itself to them. Perhaps there was Intention in all of this, and so they wondered. Would their kids find their way in the dark, just as the Knight and Squire had? Hope whispered from inside them.
“Yes, even in this…”
And it was true. The kids did find their way somehow, and the boys helped others find their way as well. Charleston, Chance, and Chief met other outliers who did not fit in with The Prescribed Order. They sometimes overheard the officials talking about how troublesome it was when children did not cooperate with “The Prescribed Order Operation,” and although the boys did not know what this plan was, they called it The POO, and that’s just what it was like. To them, The POO was not at all like the selfless Intention of Artifex.
Charleston would lie awake at night and ruminate on this, recalling what Mr. Keeze had said to them all just before he said goodbye:
“Those who do not know The Ardor of Artifex desire to stamp their own likenesses, whims, and desires upon one another.”
Could it be that The Gatekeeper was talking about things like The POO? As Charleston pondered this, he also considered the hints about Artifex which he was discovering, even in this most unlikely of places.
Even when The WBOs were focused on dismantling the kids’ belief in Wonder, if the Faultsom fledglings really looked for it, it was obvious to them that Intention was everywhere. Chance and Charleston also began to understand that things went terribly wrong when this Intention was thwarted, and the result was ugly. This filled them all the more with determination to search out the selfless purpose of Artifex.
As they persevered through The SyRAP, the boys discovered that replaying their adventures in Wonder really did affect those around them. One time, Chance took off into the ozone, reliving every moment of his breathless flight on Mistress Bublem Eeb and the G-forces he experienced. When he did this, his counselor suddenly became extremely dizzy and nauseous and had to leave the room to find a toilet, right in the middle of his attempt to convince Chance that none of his multidimensional fantasies were real.
Chance also had enormous fun singing The Song to his new friends in the facility. When they were depressed, angry, or afraid, it was really something to watch how The Song lifted spirits and imparted a delicious feeling of silliness and expectancy, like something tremendous could be just around the corner:
Dear Inmates, Friends, and Scallywags,
Was it something that we ate
That made us so uncouth, unkind,
Unable to appreciate
All that lies before us
In the fabric of our days?
Our attitudes are stinky and
We’d better change our ways.
Dear Pals and Rug Rat Sillies
We’re just moments from relief
Or days and days from happiness
’f we wallow in our grief.
Let’s look for all the clues and hints
Despite those who oppose it.
Wonder’s world is near, my friends,
For all who will suppose it!
Noticing how The Song had begun to change things for his friends, Chance tried an experiment. He tried singing it quietly when his SyRAP Directors were particularly overbearing:
You Dastardly Despoilers
You do need this so
Despite the things you say and do
And the things you think you know.
Wonder knows what’s best for you
Even if you hate it.
Give up The nasty rotten Plan
So trouble is abated.
Despite the domineering demeanor of these grown-ups, when The Song began to fill the atmosphere, the facilitators would take on a petulant, childlike quality and find themselves unhappy with the status quo, clearly longing for something they told the kids wasn’t real. Sensing this, The Songsters would smile knowingly at each other.
Charleston discovered that what most excited his sensibilities was his memory of the energy, light, and music of The Generation. He would absorb this into himself and could feel it echoing in his heart and flowing out of him. It was as though his soul was the soundboard that made Wonder reverberate in the natural world.
When this happened, the hardened, lonely, and confused kids around him would become quiet and thoughtful. Tears would sometimes well up in their eyes as their hearts were filled with unfamiliar thoughts of pure love giving itself completely to bring forth and nurture new life. They felt the reality of a truly selfless love nurturing even them.
Then there was Chief. During the endless retraining classes, he daydreamed constantly about his family’s trip to Wonder. Between his classes, he spent his time imagining new places he might visit in Wonder and regaling his classmates with stories. He and his friends figured out early on that it was best to go along with the goofy stuff the grown-ups taught them during the day, but at night, when they all settled down in the bunkhouse, they rejoiced in their secret Wonder Club meetings, during which the kids peppered Chief with questions about his adventures.
As he recounted the tales, the kids could feel a kind of portal open up in the atmosphere around them and they were transported into the middle of the scenes Chief described. The members of the Wonder Club solemnly vowed that when they returned home they would search until they found this mysterious Artifex, who was in The All of It All.
While he kept a fairly low profile — which was no small achievement for Chief who wanted to run the show in pretty much every setting — The WBOs had their suspicions about his progress. One afternoon, near the end of The SyRAP seminars, the plucky little seven-year-old was called in for evaluation by the realignment team, chaired by none other than Ms. Imperia Beasley! The Developmental Well-Being and Life Skills Assessment experts were meeting to determine if Chief was going to need more remediation in order to turn his mind away from his family’s backward notions and deficient educational methods.
It was a humid afternoon when Chief ’s SyRAP counselor walked him into the conference room of the Well-Being Center and brought him before a group of very uncomfortable-looking grown-ups. The cooling unit in the building was not working and the air was quite moist and stuffy. Ms. Beasley sat in a swivel chair in the middle of the room wearing a blouse of large yellow and black stripes that seemed to be an attempt to compensate for her overbearing, dictatorial countenance. But no colorful clothes could make her look at all pleasant.
Swiveling in a grandiose fashion to face the members of the committee, she began the meeting.
“Good morning, everyone. Today we will review one of the cases from that very disconcerting state of affairs we encountered in the vicinity of The Center for Child Development and Life Preparation number 1557. The officials of The Developmental Well-Being and Life Skills Assessment Committee (The DoWLSAC) investigated the situation and determined that the unstructured educational style of the Faultsom family was wholly inadequate in prepa
ring their children for real-world workforce demands. Furthermore, the committee was most concerned about the bizarre and delusional experiences that Mr. and Mrs. Faultsom were encouraging their children to indulge in.
“We are here today to determine if this child, Conrad Carlisle Faultsom, has been sufficiently realigned with The Prescribed Order.”
With a supercilious swoosh, Ms. Beasley swiveled around to face Chief, who was standing with his counselor a few feet away from her. Addressing him with a forced smile and a sappy sweet tone of voice, she spoke:
“Come here, Conrad, you musn’t be afraid. I simply want to ask you some questions to see how you have enjoyed your time here at Camp Common Kid.”
At this, she motioned for Chief to step forward and stand right in front of her.
“Closer, young man, come here and stand right next to me so I can see your bright little face nice and close up.” Chief felt himself bristle at the thought of coming so close to Ms. Beasley, but obeyed dutifully.
“Now, please tell us what you’ve learned here about how to bring your new Common Kid values back home to your family. How can you help your parents understand the New World ways?”
The hot, damp air in the room made Chief feel woozy, but worse than that, he was bowled over by Ms. Beasley’s horrific halitosis. Her breath was disgusting! It smelled something like stale coffee, dead fish, and stinky cheese. Chief involuntarily threw his hands up in front of his nose and mouth, and took a step back, while a couple of the grown-ups on the committee unsuccessfully attempted to stifle their amusement, much to Ms. Beasley’s dismay.
The Beasley (as some members of the committee called her privately) pulled Chief ’s hands away from his face, yanking him closer and addressing him again, this time with a higher-pitched tone.
“Conrad, we are waiting to hear your ins-hi-ghts.”
She exhaled as she said it, discharging more of her noxious vapor, causing Chief to lurch away from her and cover his nose and mouth again. A scathing scowl overtook The Beasley’s face. Chief ’s reaction seemed to her to be an act of defiance, which increased her determination to elicit answers from the youngest Faultsom.
Now, Chief knew he was really in trouble, and mustering up his imagination, he went back into Wonder. He was desperately searching his memories for something that would be helpful in this particular situation, just as The Beasley got out of her chair and bent down directly in front of him. She craned her neck forward until her face was within inches of his and took a breath, preparing to speak again.
The fragrance! That was it! Chief could remember the enormously pleasing aroma that the flowers in Wonder emitted to lure the pollinators to their petals. Chief ’s brain recalled the sweet musky incense as The Beasley’s newly exhaled breath headed toward his nostrils. Just in time, the “scent had been sent,” and its floral bouquet blocked The Beasley’s odor! More surprisingly, she caught a whiff of that glorious fragrance, too. As it hit her olfactory nerve, her eyes widened and her head began to spin slightly, distracting her momentarily. Refocusing with some effort, the head of The DoWLSAC was determined to exert control again.
“Conrad Carlisle Faultsom, I must insist that you tell us what you’ve learned about the New World ways and why myth and fancy are sooo unhoopful.”
Noticing that Ms. Beasley was also affected by the flower power he was immersing himself in, Chief grinned at her as he doubled down on his Wondering. Now, he not only called forth the scent of the flowers but focused intently on the “Tenarc” that Mistress Eeb loved so much. He recalled her happy humming as she sucked in the honeyed nectar from Wonder’s floral smorgasbord. Chief began to hum right along with her. Ignoring Ms. Beasley’s questions, he just hummed out loud as if he were a Bumble Bee having a luscious sweet drink:
“Mmmmmm-mmmm, hummmmm a hummmy hummm…”
My, how this infuriated The Beasley! There was little Chief humming away, now immune to her breath and her questions as he stared off into the distance with an enchanting little smile lighting up his freckled cheeks. He just stood there enjoying a loopy feeling in his head that made him snort and titter.
That was it! Ms. Imperia Beasley’s calm and controlled exterior cracked, causing her comrades on the committee no small amount of alarm. The Beasley boiled over and sort of shrieked as she stood up.
“Let the committee note that this child must not be allowed to upset The Prescribed Order!”
As she carried on, her voice became even more brittle and ominous. What had happened to their composed, caring, and reasonable chairwoman? A provocative thought crossed the committee members’ minds: Could it be that Ms. Beasley was unsuited for her duties? Just as this possibility occurred to them, it hit her.
Ms. Imperia Beasley was sloshed. Potted. Plastered. Drunk as a skunk.
Walking toward the committee members, she listed to the left and then to the right, winding back and forth across the room. Realizing she was losing her grip on things, she threw her shoulders back most comically and attempted to right her path. Struggling to speak with an authoritative air, she babbled:
“Ladies and Gemimines, I am soooo shouure you can all now suurrrmiiiizze cluurrly that this child mustsst be mee-reediated fruther. He must confrom to the scre-pribed dddorder.”
As she said this, a ridiculous grin overcame her usually taught facial features, and she began to chuckle.
“Order?” She tooted out quizzically…“who knows what that izzz anywayzzz? Order schmoorder! Doesn’t aaanywahone ever have annyy fun anymooore?” she slurred. “I’m sooo tired of being so uptooty — and uptight.”
She pulled her overcompensatingly colorful blouse out of her skirt and opened the top button as she hiccupped.
“Izzzit hot in here?”
The committee watched incredulously as Ms. Beasley began to hum and flit around the room, with her eyes closed.
“Hmmmm. I am floating! This is marvelllll-ouuuzzzzzz. Flitty, flitty here and flitty floatty there. I’m a Bee! Buzzy buzzzzzz buzzz…”
Ms. Beasley began to wave her hands very quickly as if they were bee’s wings. There was no stopping her now.
“I alwaaayzzz kneeew I could flyyyyy…ever since I was gittle lirl. But,” she choked up, “No one believe-ded me…and then, they told me I wasn’t allowed to believe in anything — truly wonderful — ever again.”
Her words trailed off and she began to cry. Collapsing on the floor near Chief, she sat in a heap, sniveling and buzzing to herself. He ran over to her and threw his arms around her, humming into her ear and singing quietly.
“Mith Thargent! The Wonder door ith open…leth’s leave this detholathunnnnnn…”
It was then that Chief was quickly escorted from the room and, as The Committee Members would admit to one another later, a bizarre thing occurred: Ms. Imperia Beasley looked as if she were fading away!
What happened to Ms. Beasley may never be fully known to us, but suffice it to say she never quite regained her composure or the esteem she once possessed in the eyes of The Committee Members and DoWLSAC officials. In fact, her drunken behavior before the officials that fateful day led to the reopening of the Faultsom family case.
It became evident then, that Ms. Beasley was the primary force behind the State’s decision to remove the Faultsom children from the family home and enroll them in the Social Re-Alignment Program. Since Ms. Beasley could no longer be considered trustworthy, the officials felt her involvement in this matter was a liability. Deciding to avoid any further embarrassment, they sent the Faultsom children home. They further determined to leave this family, with their strange ways, to themselves for the foreseeable future. The officials further noted that the more they endeavored to impress The POO upon these children, the more it had the opposite effect upon the Faultsom boys and their peers in the SyRAP. As a whole, this family’s case was going to be too much trouble to deal with.
So it was that, in the springtime a little less than a year after the fateful garden party, Constance, Charleston
, Chance, and Chief were returned to Dumble Street and into the waiting arms of their parents and the paws of their slobbering dog. The boys recounted story after story to their thankful parents about how they had managed to survive, and even thrive, in hostile territory. And the household was once again convulsing with their boyish exuberance.
Constance’s journey through the Social Re-Alignment Program was of a different sort from that of her brothers. She carried the words of The Gate Keeper inside her somewhere, and it comforted and encouraged her when she focused on them. However, the longer she was in The SyRAP, the more The Seed planted by The Gate Keeper was overshadowed by grim, hissing, brambly barbs invading her mind. They grew up inside her and wrapped themselves around her heart.
At times, she recalled Wonder and it was like a breath of fresh air, but then it seemed just out of reach, like a far too distant memory. As her weeks in the program went by, Wonder seemed to her to be more and more like some kind of nursery story her mother had told her years before. She became increasingly skeptical, isolated, and desolate, and she felt that no silly fairy tale would make things better. She concluded that she was on her own to deal with the stark realities of the world outside of her family home.
A strange pain often jabbed her in the back, and when it did, she could almost hear a hissing voice in her head. At these times she felt particularly alone and dejected as she bitterly considered how selfish and self-involved her parents were. What a disservice they had done to her and her brothers by immersing them in the family delusion! And Mom, well, she had really been the pushy one, pressuring them to accept her illusions and take part in her trippy excursions. And Dad, well he shouldn’t have let her do that to them. Could Constance ever really trust either one of them again?
Mrs. Amazing and the Seed Page 12
