by Gary Tarulli
I emphasized that the Orb displayed no hostility whatsoever—either before or after the laser provocation. The remarkable weather phenomenon was, in all likelihood, a demonstration of ability, a warning to behave.
As to what happened to Ixodes, two ideas presented themselves: The entity was protecting the phytoplankton; the sub, an inanimate, robotized device, was viewed as something akin to an intrusive virus. Both ideas were speculative, making what I next said to Thompson a little problematic.
“Bruce, I realize you have a tough decision to make, but I strongly believe that our technology is far more alien to the Orb than the life-form we represent; it is either incomprehensible to the entity or has, for some reason not clear to us, been rejected. Although our existence has become dependent on material things, the opposite may be true of the Orb, an entity conceivably hundreds of millions of years old, yet without apparent possessions. Sorry, Bruce, I don’t wish to make this any harder on you.”
“If I understand correctly, you’re eschewing any form of monitoring?”
“Afraid so.”
“Doctor Melhaus. What do you think about this?”
I found it interesting that Thompson would seek Melhaus’s opinion first. If he was seeking a counterpoint to mine, he didn’t find it.
“Unless allowed by the entity,” the physicist responded, “we have no monitoring device or communicator capable of emitting a signal that can penetrate the Orb from within. There is the potential danger of attempting to do so.”
“Spoken from personal experience,” Diana said, only this time loud enough for all to hear.
A few days ago an argument would have ensued. Today, Melhaus offered up only a tepid “yes.” Diana seemed disappointed. I leaned into her and in a much lower voice said, “Too bad. Fun’s all gone.”
“There’s always you,” she responded.
Thompson told us to shut up, then elicited Paul’s opinion about the matter at hand.
“I reluctantly agree with Kyle and Larry.”
“Change of heart?” Thompson asked.
“Not really.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It’s what you said previously. If we are doing this to make amends, to impart a better sense of what we are really all about, then collection of hard data must be truly subordinated.”
“What about you, Diana?” Thompson asked.
“I agree that Kyle and Angie are inseparable. I also understand the arguments for not equipping Kyle with instrumentation. But this is a scientific expedition. As such wouldn’t a scientist be better able to evaluate the information gathered by the best instruments of all, our five senses? Sorry, no offense Kyle.”
“None taken,” I said. Her argument was persuasive.
Thompson withheld his response. “Kelly? We haven’t heard from you. I’ll give you a pass if you feel your advice would be compromised by personal feelings.”
Tough spot, I thought. And I put her there. Sorry.
“I…. No,” Kelly responded. “No! It would be a huge mistake to send anybody but Kyle! Don’t you see, Bruce? We tried collecting data! Let something else take precedent!”
“And what would that be?” Thompson asked.
“Shall I try to name it? I’m not sure I can. Remember Kyle’s words when we were flying over what we assumed to be an ocean? He said ‘something intangible’s at play.’ It took Paul’s genius to solidify that feeling into a concept our minds could accept. But to what extent have we accepted it? You admitted yourself, we are still having trouble grasping the true nature of what is out there. If there is any chance of doing so, Kyle will come the closest.”
If I needed proof of Kelly’s love and affection, well there it was hitting me right between the eyes. True acceptance of her devotion caused something to go click in my head. I had a rush akin to Paul’s electrifying experience when he accepted the planet’s ocean for what it really was. How do I word this? It was if the brain, in trying to accommodate something shockingly new, rewires itself, creating new pathways through which it sends a current to every part of the body. The only way I could share this feeling, to complete this circuit, was by touching Kelly’s hand under the table.
Thompson tactfully ignored me as I hid the struggle to retain my composure.
“No dissension,” he commented. “Except Diana’s point, that a scientist should attempt this. But I have to ask, do we even comprehend what is being attempted? Is anything comparable within our experience? What will transpire? Maybe nothing at all. More likely nothing we can imagine. I’m forced to consider what Kyle—too often—tells us: True communication requires information to be passed both ways. Sending and receiving. Who among us is best suited to do this?
“Was it merely coincidence that Kyle saw, or nearly as important, imagined he saw the Orb before any of us? That the name he chose for the planet so aptly describes everything about it? That he has a strong affinity for the water? That, at the start of the mission, he refused to leave Angie behind? That he, among a group of imaginative candidates, was chosen for this mission? That he was specifically chosen to provide a perspective that differed from—sometimes to the point of annoying—us scientists? Well, he’s done that often enough, hasn’t he?”
Thompson looked down at his hands, then stared out to the far horizon. Out there was serenity; the most perfectly stable planet ever encountered. Out there was the promise of a better understanding—and a decision.
“You see,” Thompson said, glancing around the table, then settling on Diana, “how I’m tending to view this. Diana, sorry. If he makes it in and out, we’ll have to be content with grilling him. Thoroughly.”
“You can count on it,” Diana replied.
“Kyle, “Thompson said, “We will proceed. But for our edification, what exactly is compelling you to do this? What is your motivation?”
“That’s easy,” I said. “Curiosity, but of a personal sort. I joined this mission because I wanted to climb out of the box I put myself in. What better way than stepping into a perfectly round sphere?”
“From where I sit,” Thompson responded with a quick glance at Kelly, “you’re out already.”
Maybe Kelly or I blushed, but something caused Diana to seize on Thompson’s remark. Turning to Paul, she said, “Do they look like they’re in love to you? They look like they’re in love to me.”
There were no dissenters.
“One more thing, Kyle,” Thompson said, pointing to the spires as we rose to make preparations. “If you get into the Orb and don’t get an answer to what formed those, don’t bother coming out again.”
I needed a crewmate to continue my mission chronicle during the interval I might be inside the Orb. My first inclination was to ask Kelly, but I had already placed one burden on her.
I asked Paul to join me in my cabin.
“Do you have any objection to adding your own observations and impressions to my work if I’m otherwise indisposed?”
“Not at all.”
“I can’t think of anyone who’d do it better. Do you need my recorder?”
“Mine’s functioning.”
“The file name is Orb. I’ve removed all security except a password: Aishiteru. I spelled it.
“Japanese?”
“Yes.” I told him the definition. Then I told him the meaning.
“Thompson was right about you,” Paul commented. “Only I’d say that proverbial box of yours is exploding from within.”
“Stand back. Wouldn’t want to get any on you.”
“Too late for that.”
“Seems like we’re all preoccupied with hurling ourselves outward across the cosmos. In the process, what are we discovering? That flinging ourselves further and further outward is distracting us from facing inward?”
“You’re generalizing. That may describe humanity. I doubt it generally describes the crew. Specifically, it does not describe you.”
“Problem is, Paul, what I’m feeling about myself is lagging behind what
is being said about me; the immense goodwill I have for a specific few—present company included—is sadly lacking toward people in general.”
“Ah, mon ami,” Paul said, rising, “the proper wording of a problem often helps define the solution. I must be off. Thompson wants the cameras repositioned.”
With Angie in tow, I headed straight for Kelly’s cabin.
She was sitting on her bed. Spread out beside her were old-fashioned pages of sheet music. I leaned against the jam of the open doorway to watch as she tuned her violin.
First, tightening the violin bow, turning its small tensioning screw, then measuring the distance between hair and stick until there was a pinky’s width between the two.
Next, tuning the four violin strings, carefully plucking the A string, then slightly loosening and retightening the corresponding adjustment peg until an appropriate tone was produced. The D and G strings were adjusted in a similar manner. The E string she carefully tuned using a screw located near the top of the stringholder. When finished, she played each string with the bow, appearing satisfied with the resulting sound. All was done by ear, a difficult skill to master.
Funny strange. At that moment I thought of Thompson stringing his bow.
Kelly put the violin aside. With a worried look, she stared straight ahead.
I left the doorway and knelt in front of her, folding my arms in her lap. I looked up into her black and gold eyes. “Don’t be afraid for me,” I pleaded. “Do you know why I will be safe? Your music. It is more than vibrations. It’s an expression of you. Of you discovering the emotional intent of the composer and recognizing a close match within yourself. A form of empathy. Deep inside me I know a similar empathy will take place within the Orb. They will hear you. There is nothing to be misinterpreted. Never. Not your music, not Angie, and not me.”
She leaned over, placing her lips against the top of my head. I found myself in a darkened space, safely hidden within the draping of her sweet-smelling hair.
“Am I in the Orb?” I said, getting her to laugh.
“Am I in your heart?”
“You are a part of me. The missing jigsaw piece.”
Angie, wanting to be next to Kelly, jumped onto the bed. I moved to prevent her from laying across the pages of music.
“It’s all right,” Kelly said, petting her. “There’d be no harm done. I have them here and here.” She pointed to her heart and head.
“The three of us make a good team.”
“I won’t be there with you two.”
“Not physically.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“At one point, think of me.”
“Always.”
We stayed together for a few moments longer; then I took my leave.
I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to have a few words with Melhaus. I found him outside, propped up in a position to view the coming show.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Sore. A bit tired. Kelly’s taking good care of me. You probably think it’s much better care than I deserve.”
“No, not true, Doctor, I have not written you off. And suffice it to say that the only person more stressed on this voyage other than yourself was Thompson at the moment he decided to hold your life in his hands.”
Melhaus’s eyes turned glassy. “I once spent several months blackboarding an equation that solved a significant physics problem. When I was finished, I stood back and looked at it in its entirety. I was very satisfied with myself until I realized that there was a simpler, more elegant solution that, if I had seen earlier, would have saved months.”
I was taken aback by the unusual depth of introspection.
“Larry, if I step back and look at what happened, I also see a possibility. That you, like every member of the previous mission, experienced an extraordinarily high level of stress. Unlike your fellow crewmates, however, you have something else in common with that previous crew: Never having entered the OceanOrb.”
“The Orb and your sanctuary theory exonerate me? Ah, if it were only that simple.”
I certainly wasn’t prepared to argue that point. Instead I asked, “Any last-minute advice?”
There was a short pause followed by an enigmatic, “Be yourself.”
All was ready.
I walked over to the shoreline and stared out. Flat as a board. The mere hint of a breeze. A vague sense of expectation emanating from somewhere. Everywhere.
What is waiting for me out there?
Not far away, Kelly sought the perfect promontory to overlook the Orb armada. Taking Angie in my arms, I grabbed hold of one paw and used it to wave. Exactly as Kelly once did for me.
Thompson, Diana, and Paul came up beside me.
“Nervous?” Diana asked.
“Should I be?” I responded, half in jest.
“Only a fool wouldn’t be,” she answered back.
“Then he’s definitely not nervous,” Thompson remarked.
“Cool as a cucumber,” Diana added.
“As temperate as a summer’s eve,” Paul said. Then to me: “Sorry. Had to.”
Diana punched me in the shoulder. “Be well,” she said.
I was touched by how nervous they were for my welfare. Reluctantly, they withdrew to a nearby vantage point. Melhaus was deliberately kept in the background.
I sat in a modified lotus position in a shallow pool thirty meters out from dry land. In my lap, Angie, cradled in such a way that we both stayed partly immersed in the OceanOrb. She happily gave me an affectionate lick on the nose.
The violin is a remarkably expressive musical instrument, perhaps the closest to duplicating the singing human voice. In the hands of a master, the sweet sound has the singular ability to elevate you above the turmoil we’ve created as a species. And once above the world, the sound, if you let it, lifts you higher still, holding up for your acceptance the possibility of release from all things material. The beauty, the possibilities, the promise, can overwhelm. I have seen people weep. I’ve seen Thompson wipe a tear away hearing Kelly play.
As she did now. And as she played, my heart missed a beat: Every Orb, and there were hundreds, ceased movement.
“Maestro,” I heard Thompson say, “you have an audience. Play on!”
A minute later Diana shouted, “Here they come!”
Incredibly, the Orb were steadily progressing toward our little island! Twelve, approaching slowly at first, then with great speed. Just as I began to wonder if they would overrun me, they simultaneously halted.
The smallest Orb was not more than a meter in diameter; the largest was a meter taller than I. All had transformed to radiant blue with an overlay of lighter blue shapes traversing across their surfaces. There may have been a correlation between the ebb and flow of colored shapes and the flow of the music; there was no doubt, however, that the Orb were drawn to the vibrations, perhaps to the underlying emotion. At Thompson’s request, Kelly stopped playing.
In an instant, Angie and I became the new center of attention, twelve Orbs forming a semicircle around us. The largest Orb broke ranks and approached. My heart raced.
This is what I wanted.
Account of Kyle Lorenzo’s and Angie’s Acceptance into the Orb. Related Matters.
Paul Bertrand, Ph.D.
My first thought: This isn’t really happening.
Kyle reflectively lowered his head and tucked in his shoulders as the Orb (an estimated three meters in diameter) moved forward from the group to envelope him and Angie. The entity’s external appearance, which had transformed to a uniform blue with the cessation of music, became embedded with silver flecks. Instantly doubling in diameter, it withdrew at great velocity, disappearing over a cloudless horizon.
Doctor Kelly Takara rejoined Doctor Diana Gilmore, Doctor Bruce Thompson, and I. Diana attempted to console Kelly. All of us, it cannot be overstated, were immensely troubled by this development, which was one of many potential risks discussed, and considere
d unlikely, during prior conversations. At that time it was concluded that Desio should not be used to chase down an Orb. To do so would almost certainly be futile and perhaps counterproductive. In the face of the present reality, this conclusion was now questioned. Doctor Thompson resolved to follow what was decided when calmer heads prevailed.
The resumption of violin playing (in the desperate hope of summoning back the Orb) only managed to captivate the attention of the others remaining offshore. Still, this had to be tried. Our hopes were further dampened when, shortly after the sun reached its zenith, every Orb retreated from view. Ten minutes later all were gone. All we could do was watch the horizon and halfheartedly resume the work of the mission.
And trust, as Kyle did, in the benevolence of the Orb.
Some time later I witnessed Kelly wade out until she was knee-deep in the OceanOrb. Diana stood beside her for awhile. An hour later Kelly was still there, alone, staring into the distance. The image is hard to forget.
I approached Thompson. He had been watching all along. Together, we waded out to join our crewmate.
When Thompson was beside Kelly he gently touched her arm and said, “Let’s go find him.”
She smiled. “No need. He’s all right.”
“Kelly…” Thompson began, unsure of what to say next. She understood that using Desio to find and to return with Kyle was an impossibility.
“No. I believe,” Kelly assured him. “He’ll be back.”
My logical mind told me that this was merely false hope. Every other part of me felt otherwise. Thompson and I exchanged glances and stepped away.
Not long afterward Diana cried out, “I see something!”
Advancing at tremendous speed out of the blue-gray distance was a solitary Orb. Kelly splashed her way over to where it came to rest. She attempted to peer down through its impenetrable surface, then stepped forward as the Orb sped away. But not until after it had returned Kyle and Angie, from all appearances completely unharmed, to the precise location from where they had been taken.
