Orb (36 page)

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 considered 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
Desi
o 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.

Kelly hugged and kissed them both.

From Kyle, I received a bewildered look when I said, “We have to know. Kyle! Bark!”

It was Thompson, laughing with us, who said, “Give it up. He wasn’t taught that!”

IN THE PEREGRINATION of human experience, objective reality remains an elusive destination: Although what reaches our senses is incomplete, it is never-the-less assimilated and, with bias, judged.

I claimed no immunity from bias when embarking on this journey. From the start, I never purported to be other than an honest first filter chronicling what were to be the remarkable, indeed the hard-to-believe, events of this mission. In this light, the relative merit (for more can never be asserted) of my accounting can best be evaluated when placed in context with what I have revealed about myself. For this reason there are passages within the body of this work that are of a personal nature.

I may have earned your confidence. You may even choose to believe me when I herein write that on a worktable there did lay an empty juice container that I judged to be metallic silver. But if I compound the problem, if my description of the container color were to unexpectedly stray from the norm (perhaps the color faded in the light of the blue sun), your acceptance may not necessarily follow.

In this uncertainty, I can only endeavor not to let words form an additional barrier between you and me.

But what if the artificial construct we’ve accepted as reality completely breaks down; what if it disintegrates to become altogether indistinguishable from imagination and dreams?

What then?

Then, if we temporarily suspend disbelief, we together take one small step on a journey to understand something other than ourselves.

We take one small step to understanding the Orb.

In truth, there is no other way for you to accept the following.

Summary of Verbal Report Submitted to Mission Leader Bruce Thompson and the Crew of
Desio
:

My vision briefly pixilated and, in the blink of an eye, Angie and I passed through, and into, the Orb. I chose to remain seated. There was very little room to stand. Angie stayed calm and alert.

A feeling of tension succumbed to one of mild elation.

Encompassing and confining us was the unexpectedly
transparent
concavity of the Orb. I waved, signaling that we were unharmed. No response. I could only assume the entity was using its remarkable command of molecular manipulation to maintain an outwardly opaque appearance.

Without forewarning, the Orb began enlarging, uniformly expanding several meters outward; simultaneously, there was rapid lateral movement. I expected to feel more apprehensive as I watched the shoreline and my crewmates recede, then disappear, into the distance.

What was inside the Orb?

Angie and I.

I shall repeat myself:

The inside of the Orb was Angie and I. Our bodies, my clothing, the air—the fleeting, infinitesimally small particles making up these physicalities were, of course, also present—and yet what was
really
occupying the interior of the Orb was the
beingness
of Angie and me, essentially filling the space more completely and utterly than air molecules filling an inflated balloon or neutrons packing a collapsed star. How I came to this exquisite sentience I do not know, but an undeniable feeling of expansiveness, a projection of conscious self, radiated outward from my being. The sensation was by no means unpleasant, and I came to the realization that this etherealness was a pathway by which the Orb could somehow sense and respond to Angie’s and my intrinsic nature. I proffer this unlikely thought with some conviction because I was aware of, could intensely feel, Angie’s mood—an exuberant and delightful mix of anticipation and happiness.

As you will see, I would soon experience a startling extrapolation of this ability, this greater self.

There is little else to mention regarding the interior of the Orb, only this: That unlike its unyielding hard exterior, the surface Angie and I rested on had the forgiving density of a soft rubber mat but with the transparency of lightly tinted gray glass. The composition of this unusual material is probably unknown to us, but I considered it bad manners to attempt gouging out a chunk for later analysis. I can tell you that the material’s clarity facilitated an unimpeded view in
every
direction—up into the bright sky, and down into the bottomless depths of the OceanOrb—thereby greatly accentuating the sensation of floating, which, in fact, we were. The panoramic vista, together with my newly acquired talent for totally filling the perfectly round space I was in, had me imagining, partly believing, that I was inseparable from the Orb as we went gracefully sliding across the planetary surface. I was gradually able to accommodate this exhilarating feeling; it never fully abated—not to the extent that I lost an indefinable connection to that which I desired to understand.