Promises, Obligations and Consequences

[teddi]

"...my little brother...who must now choose the trail he will journey.  Only with his consent, may you offer  him what was to be my...gift...with the knowledge that you accept willingly...what is tendered in return: and for pities sake, please don't pout; it is so unbecoming of you.



"That you value my guidance is encouraging yet despite your desires, be advised that from this moment on my darling, what follows is most uncertain; and remember, regardless of his choice you are incalculably enriched.  However, your obvious and growing impatience is quite understandable; perhaps it has in part fueled your own personal...visions?  Forgive my musing aloud, but your undue haste...to return...apparently was the cause of your unceremonious reentry and...it was spurred by...yes...of course...Mother is correct...I too see...your unbridled anticipation.  Excuse my amusement.  It is not my desire to appear rude or offend and for that lapse, I offer my profound apology, though I would again counsel you:  serenity.  So for now, please, simply pick up the package you so attentively brought upstairs for me and hold it with stately patience."



With a nod Melina's big grin has eased to something resembling the tensed and forced expression of obligatory joy.  I guess it's what I'd call having to take medicine that doesn't taste all that good but knowing that'll sure help you feel better in a couple of secs.  Naturally, it also helps if your Mom's staring back down at you while she's giving you a good nudge in the back along with that ever loving wide-eyed absolute look of "Do it or else!"



As expected, it was only a mater of time before Aeron turns her unbroken attention to me as she steps closer and continues with, "Enigok...my young sweet "brothers," before you reply to my inquiry, consider carefully, are you certain you wish to continue your little game?  Reflect upon the well-worn path you have here to fore traveled while I tell you a story that began long long ago.  The story you have craved and must hear begins with you.  As you were a spring to its beginning, you are also the measure to the depth of its well.  Little brother, the story began four millennia past and has progressed, yet with each step, forward, a millenium has passed.  Nonetheless, each step has been contingent upon the mispersception either of a touch or of a gift or sadly...both.  Determine now if it, for all, shall end, if ever.



"It is comforting that as you now willingly lift your gentle face to look at me that I may cup your smooth chin within my hands and guide your gentle features up towards my eyes to look upon; yet value, that your ability to induce both judgmental fear and lament is lost upon me.  My sweet, it is not that you are incapable of doing so; to the contrary, I understand that you are able to do that and so much more.  Christopher-Elias, it was the promise, the blood oath, you made to another...that we have been and always shall be...accepted as family.  Have you deduced the obvious and understand the nuances?"



We nod our head and understand, while noticing as we look up, that except for the first and last seated, the Gallery of the Gods leans forward in expectation and waits:  the exceptions, as always, remain the inherent stoics of time; and both have long been displeased.



"Enigok.  Then, it is here and at this time, I ask you to discern each event in context and as you do, consider the alternatives presented, either continue to remain the ceaseless wanderer you have become or start anew.  If you elect to persist, as payment, you shall amass your greatest fear; on the other hand, if you choose otherwise, the onerous cycle you have trapped yourself and others within shall be broken, yet either choice will bind you and shall remain your obligation...the choice is yours."



As I look at Aeron's face it is no longer a mirthful mask, it, is now the visage of determination and concern.  With our pained smile of acknowledgment, she continues with, "Good, I will hold you to your promise.  Now I shall begin.



"Once upon a time, little one, and so long long ago, you wept; and in your tormented slumbers wondered aloud when your journey would cease, if ever.  As you repeatedly, so long ago plaintively asked, finally, we can and with certainty reply.  Together, Mother and I have seen the alternative...that...is why she phoned me.  All in our family have waited...unwearyingly.  It has always been our...uncalled for...desire...to make certain that you, who once walked among us, is not lost to us forever...and us to you...my sweet...do you understand?"



We nod again and wait for...



"The key question, I will ask is neither rhetorical nor inconsequential.  Will you build new memories or now begin to crumble among the living dead that you so frequent in the past?  If the latter is truly your intention, then we are sorry for you...and for us...for the loss will be great.  Except for the prosaic riddle you posed to your mother, the meaning of your names was but an additional subterfuge to mask the wants of your many desires.  You would force her to persist, with the knowledge that she would not provide the answer you sought.  Yet you continued to provoke her...to no end...understanding that in doing so that the provocation itself would become the means to an end; a vehicle through which you could continue without fear of loss to seek what you most desired yet most feared.



"First, little one, you most skillfully posed a...liar's question...for Julia to answer truthfully and understood the impossibility of the choices you offered her...that each contained inherent and distinctive degress of guilt upon a choice...and that each was indeed inimitable.  Therefore, she perceived, that regardless of the choice, to choose one above the other, the decision would again forever shatter not just her being but also rend her soul; consequently, it was unlikely that she would answer.  It was from experience, you understood that as a mother, she had learned and as expected, you knew she could not and would not answer the one self-serving question you posed, which of you would she yield?  Logically, you deduced that her painstaking reply would thus insure your quest as timeless; as her answer could and would be considered in part a denial and thus not a lie; becoming in itself a fine but hair-line distinction upon which to rely.



"Long long ago, you began as a child and sought only to follow the truth.  This was the face upon which you dwelled and used as the foundation of your jouney when you began.  Initially, it is what you sought and chose to follow and what you have long hunted.  It is after all...all you had asked for...and with but few exceptions, which you have so poignantly noted...it is all you, have received.  Only recently did you understand that your solitary want of the past...is now...significantly less...than the sum of your current and many needs.  Little one, she understands what you desire; but cannot, and will not tell you.  The freedom of choice was hers if she had the will not to do so and you were the catalyst.  That is the basis of your growing guilt.  We both understand why.  It is now written all over your face as well as elsewhere and it has at this time surfaced to face you.



"Only now do you realize that your ever present collaborator, time, as you, has evolved.  It has transitioned from the once impassive ally to a now formless and intractable adversary; the wordless turncoat with whom you at this instant must also unexpectedly contest.  It is at this moment you perceive that time has become the suble thief of youth:* while it sits and waits, it has patiently all but stolen your wings; and you are unaccustomed with the growing remorse, which at this instant steadily begins to consume you.



"Only moments ago, I relayed to all but a portion of how "creative" you were.  Now the remainder of your cunning is worth mentioning.  Long long ago, conceivably by your measure but mere seconds, you realized that you were not satisfied and desired more; perceiving that if you persisted with little you would always have little but little more.  Daringly, you came to know us and accepted us as family...you knew it would thus serve both of our many needs.



"Even so Christopher-Elias, you could not bring yourself to abandon your quest nor willingly surrender to the void.  Obviously, to do so would violate your code of honor to yourself, to us and to others.  Mother's call to me brought home and proved the point that in your search for what you lacked, in time, as I, you too had become obsessive.



"At some moment through your many journeys forward and back, you realized what would occur if you were "...to put your own wishes aside, to renounce, to give in and serve the will of the community."  Implicitly, upon hearing those words the predictability of your honor was summoned.  At that moment, you understood and further committed yourself not to fail.



"At that moment in time, the community, the state, in which you found yourself was foreign to your being; inevitably in what would be but moments to you, that that would be "the most dangerous moment;" not only for you but also for all others and "You would not allow it"...to succeed with your assistance.  "In that most dangerous moment," for you only several breaths ago, my sweet little one, "...the young boy contained within died," he no longer lives.  Moreover, through it all you did not cry out, nor did you shed a tear.  We are honored through your courage.  At that moment, the smile on your face belied the "...young man to be who will live longer."



"I counseled you to remember, "If you must kill, kill for a reason."  Revenge is but one reason we are aware of, but now, the growing tears in your eyes cannot wash away the understanding of what you have done:  for you my brother that will take...time.  We cry for you, are saddened at your loss, but admire and value your act.  Enigok.  Now as I release your face from my hands, it is as Sachem of the Northern Tribes that I discharge you of the blood oath; we are moved at your gallantry; and will accept willingly what is offered in return, if you so choose."



Elias and I can take a hint but before we can speak, she does.



"Christopher...before I continue...please...I would ask...now...upon your release...consider but do not be in hast to reply...am I...are we...still accepted as...family?"



(Elias and I hadn't considered that question.  But in all honesty...if we did consider it for very long, for even a millisecond, I'd turn out to be a real butthole.  No Elias...no problem with that question...not at all.  Besides, we both know she was kinda antsy about asking that...but...if I were in her shoes, I suppose I'da asked it too.)  Of course, I would expect her to follow that question up with a...



"Please forgive me...that question was uncalled for.  I was worried that..."



My almost immediate reply isn't all that great, just one whispered word, "Forever," brings the smile back to her face as she pauses for a moment then edges towards Melina while attempting to appear unruffled.  Her tone of voice has changed from edgy to...well...tender?



"Little one, with Mother's call I now know even more of your creativity, though I will admit, not everything.  Yet I confess I am increasingly astounded at your sagacity and wiliness.  You no doubt have noticed the parcel, which Melinda now holds.  Initially, the parcel held but one item.  Your grandmother, thought to engender it...spice it up a bit...so to speak.  Forgive me, but Mother has always had a flare for the romantic as well as the dramatic, which I might add, sometimes comes at considerable expense to...well...let's say...she enjoys a good tale or joke...usually directed at another's inflated ego...especially mine.  You no doubt noticed... she is able to journey without leaving the farm so to speak.  Regardless, she artfully added a little something...extra.  She says it is from a mutual acquaintance, who passed some time ago and to whom she had entrusted, hand-to-hand, a certain and most timely gift...to which in turn she received a...timely communication...and the now stilled voice who exceeded his obligations seeks to plead to you for another's actions.



"Perchance you are expecting a most particular and timely explanaton?  If so, allow me to remove it from the parcel, though before I do, understand that whatever else the parcel contains is now Melinda's.  Originally, I thought to give it to you but it is now hers to bestow...upon you...if...you will accept it from her...rather than me.  Consider that prospect while I tender this last of your timely gifts to your mother.  It is after all hers."



Without fanfare, Aeron quickly pulls either end of the two strands of white twine that hold the packages plain brown paper wrapping together.  Melina is really jazzed but is somehow managing to hold still in anticipation of seeing whatever it is that's packed inside of it.  But Aeron has other ideas.  Instead of popping the lid, all she does is reach inside and pull out one plain brown paper bag; closes the lid and smiles at Melina while whispering, "It's not nice to peak before its time."  Then while holding the bag speaks to Mother.  "Julia Athena...please...listen most carefully...in the past several moments you have shared much but we now share more:  a commonality.  As Sachem of the Northern Tribes, Mother, it is my honor to extend my hands and present to you this most timely gift; with the understanding that we are family and hold no malice; it is our desire to be at peace.  It would please us, as a considersation; if you would share what you discover with us so that others may not be deaf eared."



With the expectant and resigned look of, "Oh what the hell do I have to lose," Mother accepts the sack; forces a polite smile and unfolds the open end.  Then cautiously pulls from it several envelopes which being numbered, are obviously intended to be read in order.  As she begins to view the first, both of Aeron's arms have found their way to wrap themselves around me and I find myself being turned to face Mother and pulled backwards and ever closer to her; understanding the nuances she offers and that at some point upon our meeting that I will and must stop.  She holds the key closer than most have and we are at peace with her.



Mother silently reads what is written on the first and oldest looking envelope and whispers what is penned, "Zu:  Freida A. Bergoneer..."Frau, ist...    

_____________________

*John Milton...Poet

[teddi]

"...viele Jahre gewesen, aber ich habe Ihnen die Freiheit des Ubersetzens der Majoritat meines ursprunglichen Briefes genommen.  Diese bestimmte Kommumnikation ist fur nur Ihre Augen und ist nicht irgendeiner anderen Partei gesendet worden; noch ist es uberhaupt.  Ich vertraue, daB Sie dieses als das erste meiner Taten des Trotzes schatzen.  Aber mehr zum Punkt, wenn ich zu irgendeinem anderen zulassen sollte, wa ich diesen spaten Nachmittage erfahren lasse und auch festgelegt zu haben selbsst, ohne Zogern wurde ich auch zusammenfassend durchgefuhrt; ohne zweiten Gedanken.  Passend auf, "Wasser" Beschadigung, von Vorlage, die inner halb dieses Umschlags enthalten wird, bitte ich Sie, einzustellen es beiseite wahren des Momentes, da es weites weniger lesbares ist; auBerdem nach Erklarun und wenn es angesehen wird, im Kontext liegt es hinsichtlich warum auf der Hand.  Werhner.  (To:  "Freida A. Bergoneer" Frau, it has been a great number of years, but I have taken the liberty of translating the majority of my original letter to you.  This particular communication is for your eyes only and has not been sent to any other party; nor will it ever be.  I trust you will appreciate this as the first of my acts of defiance.  But more to the point, if I were to admit to any other what I have this late afternoon experienced and have committed myself to, without hesitation, I too would be summarily executed; without second thought.  Due to "water" damage, of the original, which is contained within this envelope, I will ask you to set it aside for the moment, as it is far less legible; moreover upon explanation and when viewed in context it will be obvious as to why.  Werhner.)"



Mother quizzically looks up, places the large brown tattered envelope with the meticulous yet bold handwriting on my bed, then immediately proceeds to the second; turns it over and loosens the thin figure eight looped tanned thread, which holds the brown flap cover secure.  it is here, after withdrawing several sheets of yellowed writing paper that she inhales deeply and begins with, "Frau, heute abendhabe ich wiederholt michbemuht, Sie zu schreiben und in jedem Versuch, bin ich miserable ausgefallen. (Frau, this evening I have again and again endeavored to write you and in each attempt, I have failed miserably).   Fur ihn nicht nur ist meine Risse, die mich gezwungen haben, jede Linie zu beflecken, die, ich geschrieben hatte aber mit jeder Bemuhung, lauft die Tinte von gut meiner Feder am Willen und is tuber meiner Steuerung hinaus.  (For it is not only my tears, which have forced me to blot each line I had written but with each endeavor, the ink from the well of my pen runs at will and is beyond my control.)



"Regretfully, I fear you will not understand.  Allow me...to apologize once more and...forgive me for what I must and will myself to do.  Today, after you so adroitly excused yourself to the dining carriage, I sat, presumably to be alone, with your beautiful boy, envisioning with his aid the grandiose probabilities of the future.  Then within the span of minutes, my known world turned upon itself, leaving me not only rueful but also in dout as to my being.  This afternoon, upon my implementation of General Order No. 1244/x0x0, allowing for what we both understood to euphemistically be termed an "Unpretentious Consultation" and after loyally discharging said order; my conclusions have been sent to all concerned, a copy of which I have attached to this particular correspondence.



"Permit a brief explanation, for the conundrum of responsibility, to me, is perplexing and I now wish to clarify circ-umstances, which are equally confounding having made me both apprehensive and fearful..Vor einiger Zeit zuerst da I zuerst Ihres Sohns ansah, penciled Arbeiten, waren nicht nur ich erstaunten aber sich vorstellten auch eine Zunkunft des unubertroffenen Triumphes und der unerme Blichen Vollendung.  (Some time ago, initially, as I first viewed your son's penciled works, not only was I astonished but also envisioned a future of unsurpassed triumph and of immense accomplichment).  Candidly, I had dutifully studied the several other endeavors, which he had so artistically offered the months prior to our supposed "Incidental and Unscheduled" meeting at the train station.  In those early ensuing hours, I carefully scrutinized each, and grew increasingly captivated and marveled at what this child had created and so meticulously detailed; even to the nomenclature assigned to each miniscule part of the imagery.  Traurig jetzt verstehe ich den morgens, um zu sein eine Partei zu was voran und Entdeckung selbst ein widerstrebender Teilnehmer liegt, wie bin Ihr Sohn.  (Sadly, now, I understand that I am to be a party to what lies ahead and find myself a reluctant participant, as is your son.)



"Furthermore, I fully grasp that what I write, today, this very evening, upon its discovery, shall be considered the insane ramblings of a man of whom you have had little knowledge.  Oder traurig, nach der Zusammenfassung unserer aller zu kurzen, dennoch Initiale Sitzung, vond der Sie verdientermaBen wahrend einiger Zeit in der niedrigen Achtung halten.  Noch sollen Sie versuchen, Sie zu tauschen, denn viele Jahre verstehe ich, daB Sie mich auch verantwortlich fur den Tod Ihres Kindes halten.  So sei es.  (Or sadly, upon the conclusion of our all too brief, yet initial meeting, of whom you will deservedly hold for some time in low esteem.  Nor shall I attempt to beguile you, for many years I understand you will also hold me responsible for the death of your child.  So be it.



"Today the short note which I pressed to your hands ostensibly reflected "my desires" for you and the boy, and to which I trust you will and have compelled yourself to honor despite the fact that you have acceded without prior knowledge or condition to do so.  Please understand that these heretofore-unmentioned envisioned obligations are in essence neither my needs nor wants.  I wrote them reluctantly and at the behest of your son, except for one, each was his.  I cannot diminish my complicity but can assuage to some degree the consequences.  Sie begreifen Kurz.  Sie mussen.  (You will comprehend shortly.  You must.)

[teddi]

The difficulty I face in penning this is further complicated for it requires a leap of faith or of trust, either of which sadly now I have little:  and here you will think me mad; for in the "time" I believe in which "you read this, I, Werhner, shall be dead...as will "you."  However, I am now of the conviction that who so ever, shall read this missive, her eyes will fully appreciate what is read.  Truthfully, I am at a loss to address you properly:  as the personage I once fleetingly met as Freida Bergoneer, will have long since passed from this earthly plane of existence; she is now, in part, the embodiment of another.  In essence, guaranteeing that both shall literally grasp this at the same moment; contingent of course, that another has fulfilled her obligations and through her assigned has delivered it to you.



"I shall endeavor to be brief.  Consider, that I nodded to you upon your exit from the carriage, and as I ordered, your escort Hans immediately assumed his post; that you then watched on most stoically; as I  drew the doors closed and locked them from within as further insurance that we would not be disturbed.  I perceived that your last look to me, was one of unspoken reproach, as I then began to secure the curtains:  I, most wanted to guarantee additional privacy.  Whereupon, I promptly sat opposite your son; admittedly, for that moment, smugly lost in the revelry of thought.  With you gone, I prized the moment and arrogantly considered myself victorious, while securely holding his invaluable and newly penciled works upon my lap.



"Here I must admit that I began to tremble for without a word and with but one look into his emerald green eyes he shattered my heretofore unwavering and conceited resolve.  Yet, in that same breath of the moment, my mind flooded with images of all types.  Remarkably, the compendiums of illustrations were accompanied by a thunderous cacophony of sounds, yet each was unique to an image in itself:  markedly distinct, separate and discernible.  The majority of representations were wondrous and in those few moments, I silently marveled at their matchlessness while others were in all honesty, no less than terrifying; I feard each in its particular singularity.  Ich setzte voraus, daB die Gatter des Himmels oder der Holle sich vor mir geoffnet hatten und ich ein Eindringling geworden war, zum irgendein zu beobachten.  (I presumed the Gates of Heaven or of Hell had opened before me, and I had become an intruder to observe either simultaneously.)



"Likewise, as Hoven and Kohler previously, I began to weep uncontrollably, certain, as they, that I too would find myself fearing the child as well as his potentiality.  Concomitantly, I mused in astonishment as to why Hans had not been reduced to the same condition:  for even though he appeared perplexed at the failure of his P-08, he too had looked into Joachem's eyes, yet appeared unmoved and unperturbed.  Rather to the contrary, appearing to be content, in some manner resolved or for the lack of a better word if you will, pleased.



"Sofort, verstand ich, daB die Warnungen, die innerhalb Stellrechts' Kommunique enthalten wurden, in hohem Brade ungenau und uberhaupt so bescheiden understated waren.  (Immediately, I understood the warnings contained within Stellrechts' communique were highly inaccurate and ever so modestly understated.)  At that moment, I feared Joachem, dreaded my very being, and understood the shallowness of my wants.  Once more, I contemplated that as with Hoven and Kohler that I would meet a similar fate.  It was then, as I contemplated the noticeable, that it occurred.



"Rechts mein erschien ein Portal des blind machenden Lichtes.  (To my right a portal of blinding light appeared.)  Ostensibly, it emanated from but a portion of the carriage's doors and as I stared on in amazement, through this luminous gateway strode an imposing fair-skinned young woman of unsurpassed beauty; well over two meters in height.  Verstehen Sie, daB die Turen nicht geoffnett...Frau...diese Frau gingen durch sie, als ob sie nicht bestanden.  Nein.  Nein, bin ich zweimal in der Storung, ging diese Erscheinung nicht...sie glitt...durch Angelegenheit effortlessy bewegen und anheilt gerade innerhalv des Faches noch uber den noch gezeichneten Vorhangen hinaus; welches motionles blieb, nachdem esnicht konnen sich ruhren esnicht konnen hatte, selbst als sie an umzog Wille durch sie.  (Understand the doors had not opened...Frau...this woman walked through them as if they did not exist.  Nein. Nein, I am twice in error, this apparition did not walk...she glided...moving effortlessly through matter and halted just within the compartment yet beyond the still drawn curtains; which remained motionless, having failed to stir even as she moved at will through them.)  There I sat in awe slack jawed, while trying to maintain my wits; and attempted to note her every attribute. Frau, her golden hair appeared to radiate as if by design, and but a portion of its braided length, completely encircled her head to emanate as a tiara of unsurpassed brilliance, the remainder of her tresses fell to a point well below her waist.



"Her brief pause allowed me to next observe the wide purple and gold embroidered sash or girdle that firmly wrapped about her waist and through the dimming light, it cast a spectrum of colors, as a rainbow would, upon the carriages inner walls.  At that same moment, her right hand moved slowly, almost considerately, coming to rest upon the well-worn burnished grip of an imposing sword.  For some reason I felt that action as most deliberate, for she then began to strum the length of it, playing her fingers from its butt down to where it stirred as if called to move upon its own volition.  Striving to move itself forebodingly away from it's hilt, as if it was itself considering a likely option; to be used or not, it remained sleeved within its bejeweled-sheath as she spoke to it by name, "Durendal."   Her additional words of "Durendal, be still my devine.  Be still my precious, be still," appeared to calm it.



"With a gasp I looked up to her face and immediately felt myself a fearful and lost child for not only did this vision, this specter of beauty, cause me to quake in her mere presence, die wahrend eines Momentes schimmerten und smoldering als Warteglut...ihren Funken zur Zundung warten...die...in sofortiger der...sie auf dann explodierten, feuerte durch mich ab (...it was her eyes which glimmered for a moment, smoldering as waiting embers...waiting their spark to ignition...that...in that instant...they exploded upon then fired through me.)  Frau...I feared...I feared. At that moment, in the certainty that I was lost, I sought to scream but could not.  I sought to flee but could not move.  I sought so much but now feared even more.  I sought to plead for mercy but instead found myself voiceless.  At that moment, the white portal behind her closed, and then, for some strange reason, I heard the sound of a child's music box, which played the simple lullaby, I had long long ago forgotten.  Er war der van Brahms.  (It was that of Brahms.)  Implicitly I understood...this fearsome specter came...to be near...and to watchfully stand guard...over your son.  In diesem Moment erinnerte mich ich, vergessen Kleks ich hatte viel und aber hatte mehr einschlieBlich meine Tugend verloren.  Repulsively, verstand ich was ich suchte, zu nehmen, war Unschuld Joachems.  Ich behob...mich konnte nicht noch Wille I. (In that moment I remembered I had forgotten much but had lost more...including my virtue.  Repulsively, I understood what I sought to take, was Joachem's innocence.  I resolved...I could not nor will I.)



"I...am uncertain of how but during this...this catharsis...I remembered and thought it quite odd that, time itself, stood still for yet a second occasion and in that strange moment...yet an even stranger dialogue ensued.  Madam, Joachem appeared to sit...bewildered and unblinking and by appearance motionless.  However, somehow it was "his" voice I heard suggesting a compact.  If you will a course comprised of various actions.  However, it is here where the incredulous became strained to the limits of my acceptance.  Zu meinem Erstaunen fing ich an, meine Antwort aber nicht...ich bedeute...I zu sagen gehort sprechen Sie abe meine Lippen bewogen nicht, dennoch weiB ich, daB es ich war, der die u;ngeraden Fragen bestatigte (To my astonishment I began my reply but did not...I mean to say...I heard myself speak but my lips did not move yet I know it was I who acknowledged the odd questions.)  Frau, I heard my voice respond to the first of Joachem's questions:  as if my very thoughts were torn from, my mind yet voiced aloud.  Das erste der aufgeworgenen Fragen, "Wurden Sie einem Flur verspechen, welches wurde Konswquenz mein Abbau von dieser Zeit?"  (The first of the questions posed, "Would you promise a corridor which would consequence my removal from this time?")  Frau, I...I cannot explain how...yet I immediately understood the appalling implication of the suggested compact and immediately, as a matter of ease, if not sheer expedience, thought to disown the matter and literally excuse myself from the entire issue.  I thought first to maintain the modest appearance of considered thoughtfulness, I would respectfully reflect on the proposal; I would then delay for a courteous interlude, before dismissing it outright.  I would, I thought, avoid the dilemma.  I...thought...to purely offer but a smile and gentle dismissal.  I...would then proceed and all would be well; but in that same moment, another voice spoke, claiming it a matter of choice and that...I...must not dimiss it as a matter of convenience.  That my expedience would stand in the way and in turn, that...I...would lose my greatest window of opportunity.  I then mused that perhaps my action would become the focal point upon which destiny would divide itself.  All I thought...I heard...as if voiced...but my words were ignored.  All within the dialogue appeared to be deaf eared to my wants.  I would not knowingly kill nor harm the one I would protect as my own. The muted retort provided the antithetical truth..."yet by the alternative you would?"  He blithely continued, as if in another realm, and secondly...

[teddi]

"Wurden Sie abgeschafft zu liefern," was ich horte benannt:  "ein fristgerechtestes Geschenk?"  (Would you be disposed to deliver," what I distinctly heard called "a most timely gift?)"  He lastly concluded with, "Das letzte folgerte, mussen die Konsequenz von der ersten sein  (The latter must be the consequence of the first.)"



"Forgive my ramblings, but I have always deemed myself a most pragmatic and calculating individual and have always been of the opinion that if all else is impossible to believe then the remaining alternative, however improbable or unlikely, must be the cause.  Die Ursache ist Ihr Sohn.  Nein...nein...in aller Ehrlichkeit, die ist, aber in einer teilweisen Wahrheit (The cause is your son.  No...no...in all honesty that is but a partial truth).



"Frau, the child's voice I heard first was that of Joachem's, but it was also his as an older child.  Your son is...not alone, he is beset.  Besides the one who guards him...at least two...perhaps three others travel with him of that I am certain.  Wie Sie bitten konnten?  (How you might ask?)  The answer is because I am first...a man...of science.  Even though I am young, I consider myself a learned man and Descartes' precept of "Ergo gonate sum" zu mir ist ein Truism (to me is a truism).  In my mind repeatedly, I have listened to the harmonics of each and have judiciously eliminated all other possibilities.  Drei Stimmen, obwohl ahnlich, in der unterschiedlichen Resonanz etwas seien Sie:  dennoch sind jede im Taktabstand, Erschutterung, Ton, Impuls und timbre die Variante von einem ursprunglichen, wenn Sie ein ursprungliches Warter.  Eine Eigen heit.  Im wesentlichen trotz der geringfugigen Differentiale, sind alle gleichwetig:  praktisch unmoglich.  (Three voices, though similar, are in resonance slightly different:  yet each in pitch, vibration, tone, pulse and timbre are the variant of one:  a primal one; if you will a singularity.  In essence, despite slight differentials, all are equivalent:  virtually impossible to differentiate).



"I sat in astonished silence, listening...as the conversations of these unseen shadows progressed...to an ostensible conclusion.  It was then the hackles on my skin rose further for I observed out from the corner of my eye, that which appeared in the windows of the carriage, the spectral faces of children.  I first sought to dismiss the visions as induced by the delirium of stress.  In disbelief, I looked to your son but...consider again...I am...a man of science.  I deal...with fact...coincidence and happenstances are not in my lexicon of acceptable alternative explanations; nor am I predisposed to be swayed by sheer emotionalism.  Frau, surrounding and emanating outward from your son, and upward from beneath the carriages floor were, multiple colored lines of oscillating colored lights; if you will permit the analogy, and forgive the technicalities; they were akin to the observable as those found within the electromagnetic spectrum.  Furthermore, in each of the seven colors, yet contained within their respective crest and waves, each modulated accordingly to its assigned specific color in both amplitude and frequency.  In non-technical language, the light and matter within the carriage became both distorted and displaced; yet apparently was controlled within that limited area of time and space.



"Those gentle faces, which were cast upon these eddy of shimmering lights, appeared as incorporeal as those radiant beams.  Sie war an diesem Punkt, als, mit einem etwas unterhaltenen Lacheln, sein Wachter ihre linke Hand bis zu ihrem Kinn holte, als ob einen Punkt betrachten; Ich verstand, daB Position unspoken.  Auf ihrem linken Arm gerade unter ihrem Winkelstuck war eine Markierung identish zu dem Ihrer Sohne (It was at that point when, with a slightly amused smile, his sentinel brought her left hand to her chin, as if to consider a point; to which I understood the unspoken yet viewed supposition.  On her left arm, just below her elbow was a mark:  identical to that of your sons).  And upon my observation her mused titter to me of, "Werhner, only now do you understand he bears not only my mark, but His, for time without end, the choice is now yours," left me chilled and desperately at a loss:  to choose.  I mortally feared either choice; yet I have done so.



"To which then the questions were again posed while at that same moment a passage from one whom I too had diligently studied... the voice of a child coarsed through me.  "Ich lebe in der Sunde, um mich, das ich, lebe, nicht mehr mein Leben meine Selbst, aber Sunden zu toten; meine gutes wird mir durch Himmel, mein ubel durch mich, durch meinen freien Willen gegeben, den ich werde beraub (I live in sin, to kill myself I live, no longer my life my own, but sins; my good is given to me by heaven, my evil by myself, by my free will, of which I am deprived)."  Whereupon the spectral discussion abruptly ended.  The concurrence being that your child would yield his own life to deprive what would consume him, if not us all.  Now I too fear that end and more; as time grows short and many of the SA and SS will soon be here for my written evaluation, as well as my justification* for findings.  Verstehen Sie?  (Do you understand?)



"Frau, for my promised actions, your son has provided me with a variety of confidential and in part, timely articles of information.  Incredibly, he states the Fuehrer will have me executed...if my knowledge is the least bit compromised or if I am at the slightest risk of capture in some forthcoming conflict.  Personally, I consider this an unlikely occurrence and of which I am highly doubtful.  Yet he states, that I will recognize that moment when it draws near, for in the midst of the maelstrom the Fuehrer himself will summon me to his side.  It is then that I will fathom that the end is near.  Secondly, that I shall be blacklisted and actively sought by those who are aware of me.  It would seem that many should consider me a wanted man, either dead or alive; though if I am to live, he cautions it imperative that my knowledge must never fall into the hands of whom Hovan shall secretly champion.  Again, here, I am at a loss; as your son laughed when I thought Hovan a loyalist and would betray neither the Reich nor the Fuehrer.  Yet here I sit contemplating that I would obligate myself to do so.  However improbable the thought, he concluded that I must also choose a path the opposite as directed to escape; that is the first of the mysteries he left me to unravel.  He secondly alluded that a future emissary, in whom the longevity of trust in whom he had long ago established, would contact me.  Whereupon a most exceptional and distinctive pen, identical in every respect to that splendid item you carried in your purse and shown to me by your son in your absence, would be placed in my hands.  He concluded that with her I would discover the courage to deliver it, as it is issential that it be a "most timely" yet solitary gift, to you.



"Frau, to misconstrue the intent of the description of this gift would be unwise.  From the moment he touched this uniquely crafted endeavor, it was evident that a bond between the child and pen existed:  that if by nature called to him.  His gentle touch and modest caresses of the object did not escape my notice as he cradled it in both hands.  While I am a man of science, I understand that touch and have often considered it myslef.  Yet, when a child is lonely, retiring and seemingly friendless, the approving if not tender touches to the object spoke volumes.  I understand as well the longing of wanting and of not having.  Nevertheless, even more so at this moment:  of having and of being forced willingly to surrender it.



"What was also evident, "my dear," is that among the many fears which I may hold the child's most paramount fear is more so:  it is losing you; from my observation...he is torn.



"Permit my apparent faux pax in addressing you as, "my dear:"  as a mother the child will always be yours, yet, from that moment on, I will protect him as my own as I now consider myself irreconcilably bound to this chilld.  That...was my sole and unconditional written desire:  that you "accept my presence as surrogate without condition of a touch or sanctified agreement."  As my note indicated, "I will maintain a respectful distance and make no further demands upon you whatsoever; nor shall any others.  You have my word.



"Forgive my dispassionate closing remarks.  I understand what was asked of me and why.  Remorsefully, I have agreed.  The corridor he selects to follow is potentially fatal, yet he trusts in that second more than I, you must, as well.  For it is at that moment on his authority and by my concurrent written order that he will leave the combined meeting of the SA & SS and flee the "selected of the Hitler youth" to find what he euphemistically deems "safe haven."  Whom I now perceive as the monsters of the SA or SS will neither knowingly stand nor idly watch what they desire most to be lost to that end.



"I must hurry the last of my message and hide it...they draw near.  Hopefully...I will write again when...

---------------------

*The theory of Justification is based upon Christian doctrine that God's grace absolves people from all sin.

[teddi]

Mother's eyes look up towards me and I understand the hurt look in her eyes.  But she still quite hasn't put it all together.  She carefully places the meticulously penned sheets back into the envelope and places it beside the first.  The final envelope is clearly visible and distinctly different from the previous two.  It is sky blue and at the top left hand corner is an eagle:  its emblazoned colored representation is bold and fierce:  it is in flight, with talons extended and stares boldly at any and all which might dare cross its path.  There, upon the face, to the center, contained within two seperate lines are the suprising bold words:



To:  Julia Athena Aletheia

From:  Werhner



The handwriting below both names is conspicuously different and reads, "Dear. Ms. Aletheia, father died on June 16, 1977.  A short year  prior to his death, he relayed to me a fascinating story and then asked me to complete it for him.  I have done so.  Respectfully, Peter.



Mother opens the impressive cover and as her hands begin to tremble, she begins to read.  "Dear Julia...Todays date is June 16, 1976.  I have little time left to live and my family is concerned for my health, yet I, though dying, am not troubled.  Forty-three years ago and approaching my twenty-fourth birthday, I promised a most prescient child that I would deliver a most timely gift.  During the course of those many years, I have suffered through many failures and have had some limited successes as well.  Yet, I have never forgotten my vow and now must enlist my son Peter to fullfill that obligation.  Now I find my tears have once more washed into but a blur the ink upon each page, which for some unfathomable reason flows uncontrollably.



"None-the-less, at this moment, it is my continued yet humble presumption that you exist while I do not.  In essence, my dear, you are reading the acknowledgment of one who is deceased; and as such, admissibly accept what I write at face value.



"Several weeks ago, I met an astonishing dark hared woman with whom I shared a most peculiar vision.  On one sunny afternoon in May of this year, she appeared, entering my office unannounced and introduced herself merely as an emissary of trust whose name was Aeron.  For but a moment and with a broad smile she observed my apparent confusion; then reached within her purse and pulled from it an object I long long ago remembered as being staggeringly matchless.  Permit my informality, Julia, for long long ago, and at first sight, I veritably fawned over and became enamored with it:  as I was allowed to both view and hold it.  At that moment in time, I judged it was peerless:  a masterpiece without equal.  Today, many years later, more than ever, I am still of that opinion.



"As I previously have noted, this personage presented to me what in appearance was an exact replica of the pen I previously so gingerly held years prior.  Speechless and amazed I reached for the item, and without hesitation grasped it; pausing for a moment to consider the obvious.  Was this in fact the final fulfillment of the child's prophesy?  Upon my momentary lapse, she spoke and addressed me by name and curiously inquired as to my immediate health.  In all honesty, her words grew faint as my mind raced back years to remember that flash point in time; while at the same moment, I thought myself unable to think clearly.  In some manner, she perceived my physical imparements, of having become not only dizzy and feint, but strangely physically numbed.  She soothingly requested that I take my seat to gather and calm myself.  I thought it prudent advice and did so.



"In my mind, I thought my medications the cause of my sudden debilities but dismissed the notion.  Never had I experienced such sensations and I closed my eyes in hopes of ridding myself of them.  Upon doing so, incredulously, I found myself simultaneously rotating and falling, not from where I sat down and on to the floor, but to a point well within.  The reality I sensed was that I was falling inward:  being drawn back, internally, sensing, as if I was being pulled within myself.  I held my breath in hope to dispel my fear: thinking that it would be my last.  With my head spinning, I closed my eyes only to hear at that moment what she spoke.  I thought her crazed when she announced, "Werhner, your timely voyage is at hand."  



"It was at that moment I perceived a growing static charge upon which the hairs on my skin raised accordingly.  In terror, I opened my eyes and observed for a second time in my life and unparalleled spectrum of oscillating lights:  which rotated, then moved to surround and I thought then would move through, to consume me.  Whereas before I considered them as both soundless and harmless modulations, this time however the thought was immediately otherwise.  The energy they emitted harmonically replicated the crackling of charged electrons as would the buzzing of tens of thousand of bees, which as they moved closer grew increasingly louder, angry and fiercer.  I thought the delusion most impressive until it touched then passed through me.  Closing my eyes, it was then that I veritably felt myself moved; from a place and time, where I had been and existed, to one where I would soon comprehend, that I had never been or had yet to occur.



"To my astonishment, and in a veritable sweat, when I opened my eyes, there, instead of my office, I found myself standing alone upon an asphalt road in what I presumed to be the late morning sun.  The horrendous buzzing had subsided to an acceptable level...emulating the accustomed humming sound as that made of an electrical transformer or of overhead high-tension electrical cables...moments later, it ceased and except for the rustling of leaves in the wind all else was quiet and stilled.



"I allowed my eyes to adjust then wander for a moment and in doing so I recognized my general setting:  after all, I had often worked near by; moreover the street sign which read Seminole, merely served to confirm my observation.  Strangely, I then found myself spurred as if summoned to walk westward, towards the last of three small bungalows that loomed ahead and directly to my right; at which point, I stopped for a moment at its opened gate.  A white cobblestone path within the fenced confines presented itself and in amusement for some reason, as a child would; I thought to count the number of stones as I walked myself to the entry and stepped up and on to the front porch of the structure.  I thought it ironic, that the black numerals upon the slatted front wall were identical with my concluded last step to the porch:  the sum of which was twenty-two.



"I thought to knock but surmising my experience and exceptional hallucinogenic daydream; entered unannounced.  At that moment, my dear Julia, my world again changed and dare I write, so did yours.



"Upon entering and to my immediate left, I viewed a simple table and chair.  In disbelief, I approached and sought to verify what lay in plain sight upon the table.  Cautiously I approached and mused to myself the impossibility of it all; to which my thought was denied.  The voice, that of a young woman, spoke to me, "How strange Werhner that you feared my Durendal as a young man yet now would approach it in wonderment and with little trepidation."  On hearing her words, the now shaking old man I had become moved to gently ease the chair out; then sat to look down upon it.  I cried as I did.



"For but a short period, thus engrossed and fixated I visually studied every aspect of this entity.  I then casually lifted my head and found seated before me the same and seemingly ageless vision which once terrified me as a youth.  Immediately, my thought was first of her flashing eyes and at once I recoiled accordingly.  Only the rigid back of the chair forced me to cease my retreat.  Her pleasant smile was in stark contradiction of my past and still lingering memory of her.  The silence between the two of us was broken with her parenthetical question, "Werhner, you have noticed the blade, have you so judiciously considered it; after all, are you first a man, and then, a man of science?"  I nodded my wordless reply of "Yes."  "Then," she continued, "My dear, as a learned man, of science, what is your conclusion; after all, you have always been pragmatic and deal with fact and are not predisposed to emotionalism.  Yet consider, if the impossible is the remaining alternative, however improbable or unlikely:  the remaining alternative must be:  the cause, the answer or the missing piece of the riddle.  Do you understand?"

Thunderstruck I thought my solitary one word reply of "Ja."  Her voiced rejoinder of, "Then, Werhner Maximillian, man of science, explain the enigma."  I could not bring myself to look up and into her eyes; instead, I focused upon the sword, which lay fully exposed beside its sheath upon the table.  As would a schoolchild, I began to undertake with considerable forboding to reveal what I now had been tasked with and thought to be fact.  No, my dear, I must correct myself.  I now believed it to be fact.



"I thought to immediatly begin but abruptly concluded I could not.  Instead, I quite timidly muttered, "Since our previous encounter I had often wondered your name?  Perhaps...perhaps...it would be of..."  I did not complete the thought; she did, with, "Werhner, the "Significance" of my name will come to you...in time."  I closed my eyes but a moment, reflexively, to gather myself, inhaled deeply and began, "Years ago, curiously, I had researched the name which you called it.  Improbably, I believe the sword which you called by name to be that once used by an ancient and legendary warrior.  The legendary sword was his, obviously, it is now yours?  I paused for several moments to again collect myself and found myself again gently prodded as a child for doing so with her words, "Very good Werhner, the answer to your questionable observation is...yes.  That is level one.  Proceed."



"I calmed myself and as asked continued.  "Moreover, there is a significant and irregular gash which runs the length of its working blade on one side which intrudes within its fuller as well as its blood groove.  I believe it to be a factor.  But there is one other item.  The blade has been unsuccessful in battle...as you can see...here" as I pointed, "...it is evident from the metals fatigue.  By appearance whoever used the sword, held it by the right hand to ward off an impending blow for the greater portion of the blades loss occurred on the opposite side of what appears to be substantial contact.  Consequently, it forced the metal to irregularly shear, perhaps to even splinter into multiple shards, as the object moved with considerable velocity through the fuller upon impact:  evidently, ocurring along its most vulnerable portion; its cutting edge.



"Pausing for another moment, she chided me yet again.  "Werhner, you speak as stating historical fact, while observing the obvious, and now ever so unsuspectingly you have come so far in so short a period of time, allow yourself the luxury and fulfill your obligation."  Without thought, I apprehensively set upon the table what I realized I still grasped in my hand:  a solitary pen.  That action elicited her thought to me of, "Exceptional, that is level two:  proceed."



"At that moment, I resolved the impossible and addressed the improbable as fact.  I thought back to a moment in time when in the midst of doubt I observed within a spectrum of moving lights certain youthful faces and pondered as to their number or of actual being.  I further considered the pen, which at that time I held and reflected upon, as the exact same pen that now lay on the table before me.



"Cautiously I reached out and moved the pen on the table adjacent to the sword to within but a portion of the first length of the gash to its body.  I noted its location then moved it once, then again:  the sum of the three strongly equated to the length of the entire gash.  Curiously, an odd thought then struck me, so much so, that I set about and re-positioned the pen; matching one of the three filigreed inlays to the first blood line.  The width and depth of both pen and sword lines appeared to be identical.  I repeated the process via rotation:  twice.  I concluded the artisan who had fashioned the piece to be a master, as it appeared that each of the rotated filigrees were perfect matches; but also that in order to have fashioned the pen he would have to have had access to the legendary sword.  Upon my concluded thought her words, "Outstanding, you have attained level three.  Entertain the thought and continue."



"Almost gleefully as a child at Christmas, I persisted noting that the approximate mass, associated volume and concomitant size with respect to length lent itself to but one linear conclusion.  The pen which I  had just positioned was but one of three.  The second, at one time, long ago, I also had held in my hands:  obviously, therefore, that there is or was a third, which is missing and for some reason significant; there in shall hold the key."  Instead of her chiding me once again, there was only silence.



"I then believed myself mad for the thought that struck me:  of whom or what I actually sat in the presence of.  Laughably, at one time, I had considered myself a learned man but now understood I truly knew little or nothing.  The preposterous to consider was now neither happenstance nor coincidence.  The learned man I once was was well read and especially familiar with the works of Homer and of those that once battled upon the fields of Troy.  The learned man I had become understood the cause for the gash upon the sword and of the warrior's name who so valiantly wielded it.  It was his sword, which failed him in battle againt both the greatest of the Greeks and of the goddess who aided him.  Yet, it was his sword in the possession of this ageless spirit.  Moreover, the three pens where somehow forged from the shattered portions of his sword.  Three distinctively priceless items the product of one unique entity:  possessed, by one who valued commitment and honor above all else, Hector of Troy.



"I harkened back to a time long long ago that I sat opposite a child arrogantly prizing a moment and considering myself victorious only to realize how quickly the taste of victory had turned and soured.  Yet for some reason in my mind I bitterely tasted that moment again.  I thought it strange as I felt neither victorious nor smug, just the opposite; and now I sat opposite the specter who at that moment so long ago had entered my life and shook from me with a glance what I prized most.  As if it was hers, by Divine right, I sarcastically reproached myself, "Sieg Heil."



"I would have continued to dwell upon the past except for her voice that gently prodded me, "Werhner Maximillian, first a man, then of science, consider, as you look upon the pen that the source of your inspiration is close at hand.  Shrewdly, have you honored me and in part called me by name.  Instinctively, only you have held two of three unique items in your hands and with each have first acted with intellect, fondness and insight.  What you, who thought himself first a man of science, yet has so accurrately perceived; now  requests your touch; with its sanction, Athena, so agrees and grants to Werhner Magnus Maximillian Freiherr* von Braun.



"As any delirous fool in the midst of a daydream would, I smiled at the thought and reached with both hands to lift it from the table.  At the touch, I marveled at the untold tale it revealed to me:  of newfound and unyielding devotion.   Moreover, I understood the terrible price paid by those who merely stood and watched as the tides of time passed them by.  I could have sat, entranced for hours on end but...

_________________

Freiherr=Baron

[teddi]

"...sadly and all too soon; it ended when her voice roused me from my enjoyable delirium.  At the same moment, I perceived the faint sound that so terrified me only minutes before had resumed.  Though audible, it remained at a distance and moved no closer.  There is more, but I grow weaker and perhaps as you have noticed, I am becoming less succinct and prone to fits of...blatant emotionalism.  I will conclude my letter to you when...ever...perhaps I will...need...additional time...if...I..."



Mother pauses for a moment and looks at the remainder of the page, which is blank.  Carefully she sets aside all she has read and then from the following page resumes.



"Ms. Aletheia, today's date is January 15, 1977.  Due to circ-umstances, father is, by his own hand, sadly unable to complete this letter...to you.  Is is now, months later from when he first began and now seeks my assistance; asking that I relay to you what he is now to weak to write himself.  I trust you will forgive this, my obvious, yet necessary intrusion, into his personal affairs.



"Despite my repeatedly expressed doubts, he obdurantly persists in maintaining that all reminiscences including the following are neither fabrications nor delusions.  Moreover, that your name, if this is in fact truly your name, has been obtained in some convoluted manner which in and of itself is to me, still unfathomable.  I will endeavor to explain in part by simply stating that father has claimed, as you have no doubt now read, that a woman visited him in his office, unannounced.



"I shall initially preface my remarks.  I find this difficult to believe, as the facility in which father's office is located, known for both, its security and surveillance capabilities, is not entirely open to the casual visitor.  Moreover, entry without proper doc-umentation is improbable if not impossible.  Additionally, to traverse the distance from the facility's main entry and then to have walked to his office without having encountered four guarded checkpoints; at which each the proper doc-umentation or authorization for admittance is repeatedly verified seems highly unlikely; besides which, the caller must be accompanied by an assigned escort.  To which then I would conclude that the main desk, responsible for admittance, has no record of any visitor either entering or leaving the facility on any given day solely to see him.  Nor in any of the surveillance tapes, which constantly monitor each corridor, are any unaccounted for or unannounced visitors let alone some mysterious and solitary dark haired woman seen.



"However, there is one markedly doc-umented but as of yet unexplained event of record.  Specifically, that on May 28,1976, the entire power grid serving the city of Huntsville, Alabama, as well as its surrounding areas, extending outward in a radius of over fifty miles,  encompassing portions of five states, suffered a major and systemic collapse.  The tangible duration of this event has been judiciouisly estimated at twenty-two minutes and one second.  This does not preclude the obvious, that for some undetermined length of time, prior to and immediately thereafter (i.e. until its complete abatement), that it remained an observably doc-umented phenomenon.



"The ensuing and extensive investigation concluded that the epicenter of this "event" originated largely within the geographic confines of this facility.  Oddly, it was at that same moment which the electrical cascading ripple effect ensued; which resulted in the interruption of all service.  Ostensibly, it began at the main power plant, and then extended to its various transmission substations, assorted power substations, multiple transformers and lastly, a huge number of transformer drums.  To use the current euphemism:  it was a blackout of major proportions.  I should also note, that during this period, the facility's standby generators and battery backups also failed.  If you have not already surmised, it was father's office within the facility, ascertained as ground point zero.



"I would further interject that immediately subsequent to the event that father unswervingly maintained to all first responders investigating the occurrence that he remembered nothing of what had occurred.  He calmly stated that he had for some reason fainted and then simply awoke at his desk; only then to observe first, that for some reason the paint had been scorched from the walls of his workplace and that the discernable odor, of ozone, then permeated the air.  Moreover, he expressly voiced how he was particularly impressed that all objects comprised of either plastic or glass had inexplicably lost their cohesiveness and had melted.  Likewise, the integral portions of other objects containing portions of both were also disrupted or reduced.  The only item of consquence not affected was his favorite working mobile of the solar system.  Strangely, it alone remained unscathed.



"These observations are not in doubt; nor subject to conjecture, the fact, that except for the singed hairs about his face and extremities, he was physically unharmed.  However, later, in private, he immediately, recanted the majority of his account by flately stating, "If I had told that," (the story he has related to you) "...to all concerned, unquestionably, I would have been committed."  I readily concurred but remained silent.



"I will preclude my short aside to you by also noting that the various investigative agencies maintained within the Marshal Flight Space Center, conducted numerous studies involving the following:  NAA (neutron evaluation analysis), OC/EC (thermal optical analysis), ICP-MS (inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry), PIXE (proton induced x-ray emissions), TOA (thermal optical analysis), XAFS (x-ray absorption fine structure analysis), and XRF (x-ray florescence) analysis.  The results of each exhaustive examination were conclusive.  Their results were reconfirmed upon independent investigation.  Specifically, it was determined that all items within his office and adjacent areas had been subjected to an e-field (electrostatic) or voltage field of immense magnitude as well as a substantial portion of the facility's roof situated directly above his office.  Results of the analysis confirm the field wave had penetrated his office area after briefly skirting the roof above then descending to where it maintained its cohesiveness for a lengthy period.



"Ms. Aletheia, a typical lightning bolt contains on average 100 mega volts, (100 million volts) with a stroke interval of 20 to 30 nanoseconds.  It emits light, radio waves, x-rays, gamma rays and heat approaching 28,000 kelvins.  To offer you a comparison the temperature of the sun's surface in kelvins is 5799.15 or if preferred, 9980.0 in degrees Fahrenheit.  To date, even the most advanced lasers can produce but a short burst of power, in time-scales measured only in femtoseconds:  and that equal to but one petawatt of energy (ten to the 15th power).  That a static charge of electricity comparable to that found in the order of 100 million volts, and then taken to the twelfth power and sustained as a constant and had penetrated his office is staggering.  The sustained phenomenon penetrating the walls and hardened ceiling of fathers' office was in the range of what is termed a vigintillian.  Ms. Aletheia, that is the number 1 followed by 84 zeros.  For your information, I would note that, the consumption of power in the U.S. on a daily basis is 13.5 TW and for the entire world, it is closer to 15.  A terawatt year is one trillion of 10 to the 12th power.



"To have experienced such a phenomenon and to have lived through it is incredulous, yet, there is also the matter of a business card which father had in his possession.  Perhaps I should qualify my statement; he had a portion of what remained of it:  specifically, a barely legible and apparently incompleted phone number.  He maintained he had no memory of it; yet, what was left of it was found in the vest pocket of his dress shirt.  Even so, for some reason, I soon learned that he had committed the partially scripted number to memory.



"At the time, it was categorized as an irrelevant and iconclusive article of record, which after analysis, was confiscated.  Upon further investigation, it was determined that the partial number did not match any number in father's directory or with anyone else's within the facility.  Subsequently, and over a period of weeks, repeated attemts to complete the sequence and connect the call, had failed.  The failure to connect was further researched and simple to explain.  No such number in any combination existed.  When father was informed of this, he merely smiled; then, in the presence of others, repeately touched the first finger of his right hand to the side of his head and stated, "Patience, after all, it is only a matter of time."



"Soon after, at home and in bed, father asked that I place a phone call in his behalf.  Immediately I sought to do so and reached for the phone, but he laughed and waved his hand about to dismiss my action while telling me to stop, stating that I had misunderstood his "immediate intent."  He continued laughing and said that the phone call was to be, "Made later, much later."  He then provided me with both a previously attempted number, accompanied by an additional prefix and a date upon which to call...thirty-one years from now.



"For many years, he had always desired to remain, a private and most independent man, but now finds himself in need.  Again, I concur.  For some time I have understood that, he needs help, and now asks that I do so.  Shall I refuse?  To what end would that serve, as the act he requests is in itself of little significance.  Therefore, I have agreed to "humor" him and relay faithfully what he will dictate shortly at a future date.  Moreover, he requests that I use a voice recorder, as he is quite adamant that I insure that each spoken word is accurately transcribed and that I not rely upon memory as, "It has a manner of altering."  When I inquired as to what it would alter, he smiled and replied, "Almost everything."



"Passionately, he claims it necessary and repeatedly whispers, "For if you would fail, not only he, but all others will be lost to us all forever."  For some time I thought he spoke those words to me:  that I would fail him.  Obviously, I thought he had lost touch with reality.  Yet, it is his request and I will do so.  I would again pose the rhetorical question of, "If I did not, what have I to lose?"  I will wait patiently and do so.  After all, what have I to lose?  End notation."



Mother halts her narrative as tiny beads of perspiration begin to form on her face and arms.  Once again, she places what she has read aside; stares briefly at the next page; then, haltingly continues.



"To:  Mrs. J. A. Markison....today's date is...March 7, 2008.  It is, from my last written note, roughly thirty-one years later.  I am now much older and wiser.  Today, after a most profound phone call, I strangely find myself looking back on what I had written and silently apologize to my father.  I am now convinced otherwise.  I had promised to relay his every word and will do so; my uncalled for intrusion shall cease and I shall recount the following transcript as it then transpired.  



"Thank you for your time and indulging what I now perceive as having been my father's last remaining constant and unvoiced obsession:  you.  After considering his every word I share his belief that:  "...if you would fail, not only he, but all others will be lost to us all forever."



Once you have read his account, I will wait patiently.  I respectfully ask that you not fail us...Peter."



"Begin recording...the date is May 5, 1977.  Dad?  Are you awake?  Dad?...are you..."



"Peter?   Is it you?  You are still...here?  Then...you...we...remain a certainty?  I am...

[teddi]

"...pleased."



"Dad, I'm sorry to wake you but the only thing I'm certain of is that it's time for you to take your medicine...here I.."



"Peter, stop, I must remain lucid.  As for my medications...they can wait.  Besides, they are numbing and cause me to sleep like a dead man; soon enough for that.  I see then...you're ready.  That is all very good...yes...very good indeed.  Now please, bring me the last of what I had written...ahh...thank you...now...let me see...where was I..."



"Father please you must..."



"I must?  I must?  I must what?  I...must do what is necessary.  What ...you must do...is listen.  Besides, what you must give me...is now of little consequence...the result, in the end, remains the same.  At the moment make me happy...and if only on this matter...don't be such a bother...so...please...not another word?  Well?  Shall we begin?  Are you recording?  If so...very good.  Now...where was I..ahh yes...I remember...I remember that I was seated...at that table, yes...I was...just thinking...of how grand the moment...when I heard her speak to me.  "Werhner," she said.  She has a soft voice you know, that is...once you get to know her.   But...I was just thinking...where was I?



"Oh yes...she interrupted my thoughtful revelry with her words of, "Werhner, before it is time for you to leave," that is in part what she said.  Can you imagine that?  It was time for me to leave?  No, no, no.  Straight away, I thought not.  This was no time to leave; for me, so little time remained.  After all, I had just arrived.  Instead, I shook my head from side to side.  I thought to refuse her entreat.  However, I knew better...especially considering her eyes...yes...particulary hers...after all...from experience...I knew them well.



"What more I knew, upon hearing her voice, was that the maelstrom of sound had returned and again and ever so faintly, I perceived myself as the object of its intent.  Ohhh yes...I knew it was coming for me yet another time; for it now had marked me by name and I would not escape it.  None-the-less...as if mindful...it did not draw closer...instead, it remained at a distance, as in some manner, reserved, laying in wait.  The shrill echo of its voice carried upon the wind called to me...virtually humming and ever so tenacious in its desire for my return to its prickly embrace.  It would take me yet again...but...to where?  Where was I to go?  After all, even she had acknowledged that I had,  "...come so far in such a short period of time."  Then she had to go and spoil everything by speaking those words, "...before it is time for you to leave," she said, "...before it is time for you to leave."  Peter...in all honesty...I did not want to.  As I looked up, I saw her smile, perhaps in understanding, while softly nodding at the old man, who now wished to remain.



"Now, where was I?  Ah yes, at the time I was content, merely thinking...thinking of that which was nearby...ah yes...it was waiting for me while still another was now close at hand.  Ohh Peter, how unfortunate...I see the look on your face...with my words...now you think I am insane.  Of course, additionally you think I am paranoid.  No, not yet.  Hah, hah, hah, but under the circ-umstance it is understandable...however, please; I must not be dissuaded by your petulant scowl.  Now, where was I?  Ahh yes, was I...thinking...about leaving? No. Not at all.



"But you do realize Peter, that I will be leaving shortly...no...no need to answer...of course you do...it is a rhetorical question...as the concern in your eyes is evident.  Why would it be otherwise?  Now, where was I, oh...oh yes, I thought I did not want to leave...after all...why would I desire to do so?  After so many years, I had arrived in time to fulfill in part my obligation and further consider the...promises:  of what could have been, of self-doubt and of remorse...if not outright self-recrimination.  How could I leave while forever confined, remaining within the shadows of the promised and of the unknown?  I was now so close to the truth.  Leave?  To what end?  Leave?  No...how could I leave...not now...not then...not without knowing the answer.  I desired to know, but more so, I most wanted to remain...but...where was I?



"How absurd the thought.  More accurately Peter, I was shortly to realize, it was then, to me, never more a matter of where I was but rather a question of...when.  I will explain...but before I do so...pass me my water if you please...ah ahh, yes, that's better...now where was I?  Oh yes, where was I...you must listen carefully...I was here in time or more accurately, I was there as promised...just in time.  After all...where else could I be?  You will understand...in time.  Forgive my mild attempt at humor.



"However, you must consider first that...she asked me to leave but further inquired if I had also deliberated upon her yet unanswered and gentle seque to which I believed I knew the answer.  I supposed the answer Peter was obvious to me...for I was now an older man...who had become a man of science...who understood that the pen was a...no...it was not simply an.."a"...it was insistently...if not enchantingly... "The"...answer:  metaphorically speaking that is.   The man of science began to speak but instead the anxious man within spoke instead.  I thought little of formality and summarily thought to address her by name and did so.  "Athena," I said, "Sometime ago I looked into the eyes of a child and saw myself.  No...allow me...that is incorrect...he permitted me to see  myself for what I was or should become or would become or could become...if only...if only.  "If."  It is such...a...small word...in a world comprised of immense ambiguities and of even greater unknown connotations.  In reality, if, any or all of what I had seen was in fact a credible certainty, if, afforded the opportunity, which of the promised alternatives would I have become, moreover, which in particular, would I remember:  if any?"  She did not reply allowing me to continue.   I resolved, without qualm, to my satisfation:  the course upon which I had embarked.  The brief glimmer of her slight smile met my eyes as I looked up.



"Quickly and self-consciously, I looked down at the table again and reflected that if the pen was the answer, was it truly the "source" of my inspiration?  Silently I pondered, did I accurately comprehend her prodding metaphor, that "...the source was close at hand."  Oddly, it then occurred to me she was not referring to the tangible of which I had once held.  Peter, without more ado I understood the pen was not the source; it could not be, the basis of my inspiration:  as it was but an article of intention, an extraordinary portion of what was formerly one unique and inimitable entity.  To the contrary, she had purposely employed the simile to convey the obvious; that the "source" of which all springs to life and which emanate from is birth.  Therfore, the inescapability of the metaphor's connotation was understandable; the conceivable source, as a requisite of necessity, would be feminine in nature.



"Upon that conclusion, she spoke however softly.  "How marvelous, you have attained level four.  There are but two remaining.  Dear Werhner, place yourself at ease and proceed at your leisure; as there is ample time for the resolution of both."  So calmed, I smiled, again becoming the ever-exicted and expectant child on Christmas morning.  Especially, the one who is constantly mindful of the moment's magic and still rushes to open presents or empty a stocking, which is hung; yet attentive to those who may, with care, watch over him.  Have I told you...she has a most gentle voice..that is...once you get to know her?  However, it is best to avoid her eyes if she is irritated.



"I considered then, if, she spoke in riddles and metaphors why not indulge the manifest thought and continue the process.  I would pander to the obvious, as it was apparent; she spoke in present and future tenses simultaneously.  You must appreciate, I knew, that for some reason, she, though not specifically, had employed my past thoughts and feelings to cajole me:  to charm from me a desired response.  But why now should I be compelled to reminisce?



"Yet I did, remembering when I was young, that I once held upon my lap, the various drawings and sketches, which in their uniqueness became the unparalleled motivation of which spurred me.  Most certainly, in those darkening days, they were then among my most precious, if not the fondest and brightest of my memories.  However, the works were not mine; instead, they were the work of a child who appeared possessed, with visions of timely certanty.  Those, at one time, long-ago, were my very thoughts.  Accordingly, it was then I understood that my alluded to "inspiration" was an inherent function of time itself.  Do you understand the implications?



"For if, the pen or drawings of which I once held in my hands then, or of whom I had sat in the presence of in some manner or form was the genesis of the souce; then, even obliquely, she would have acknowledged it as such.  Yet she made neither specific mention nor inference to that effect.  Yet, for some reason, she unreservedly sheilded the child who had tendered them.  I had yet to reconcile the obvious instead surmising that neither the pen, nor the mother of the child nor the child himself was the source.  I concluded instead, each, in some manner, were subject to its particular influence.  At least for the moment that was my judicious presumption.



"Therefore, again, it was logical to conclude, by her proffered insinuation that the source did not refer to the tangible that lay upon the table before me and the event she had alluded to was one which remained in the offing and therefore, in reality, had yet to occur.



"I believed it was at that moment I correctly perceived her intimation; that time itself was a function of proximity and the specific moment of its velocity.  That, the closer the source moved to the objective, me, the time remaining to the intersection of the two, would diminish.  I concluded in turn that it waited for either me or me for it.  The reality, the consequence, would come to fruition if the two were either coincidental or consequential and predicated upon contact: of some type, however slight; though subject to the reality of their proximity, regardless of form.  In essence, in coincidence, a physical meeting, the tangibility of an object, is not a function as to the state of its composition but rather as to the certainty of the specific moment it occupies in space-time itself.



"Yet if I were the objective, I was not inert, at least not yet.  I believed I still moved, however slowly, and spoke.  I still existed and thought until I ceased.  I was neither vapor nor inorganic.  Of course, I understood that if an object exists in some form, even though calculated as inert, there is motion; which when calculated is the moment of velocity in the space it occupies as measured in relation to time of incidence.



"Peter, in school, you were taught that we view everything in three dimensions:  length (or distance), width (it's own in relation to or from an object) and height (its or another's elevation from a set point).  However, seldom do we consider the one to which we are all subject to but do not view, the intangible reference, by which we measure a beginning, a moment of, or of an end.



"All this I considered, while I sat, captivated, continually staring at the pen, contemplating, that for some reason the pen had always been of consequence, having been ordained as a timely gift.  And now that same pen lay upon the table before me and for some purpose, it had become the keystone, the necessary piece upon which events would turn; a promise of a gift to which I had obligated myself to deliver.  But to whom and why?  Never-the-less, it was consistent to assume by extension, that it and I, along with whatever or whoever else, which now approached had moved in time as well though not at the same velocity or distance.  The secret would lie somewhere within the intangibility of time itself:  the fourth dimension.



"Yet, the questionable conclusion further vexed me.  Because, as velocity may vary, so to will the measure by which we gauge time, as there is neither a constant nor universal time.  Of course, Peter, time, as a rule, normally moves in one direction, forward; but you must listen carefully, and, as a...standard rule...it is a given.  However, somtimes, rules are simply broken or ignored.   Remember, that in school, the rule you had learned is, that a clock on top of a mountain will record time as running faster than one at sea level; and, that the faster an object moves the slower time runs, until at the speed of light dilation occurs:  time stops.  But remember as well, that even a boulder, seemingly motionless, also moves in time.



"From one day to the next, week-to-week, year to year:  it travels.  However, we see only three of the dimensions it moves in.  Its length, width and depth, to us, are readily observable but only on a fragmented and daily basis.  Yet, the measure by which we reference everything is not.  We perceive the patchy yet observable reality and accept it.  The continuously intangible is also accepted but never seen.  Yet, the intangible rule is the measure of our longevity and the gauge of our conventional and perceived existence.



"In turn therefore, I accepted that:  I most certainly existed, the legendary sword existed, the mated pens existed, and the young woman, Aeron existed.  Moreover, now across the table the ageless spirit that I presumed once as myth also sat as well, therefore, she existed; moreover, and obviously, she too played a significant role, which in some manner, somehow, connected to the most recent event, that began with the spoken words to me of, "Werhner, your timely voyage is at hand."  The tangible and intangible had met and I...



"I then paused and smiled to consider that at that moment Peter, that I understood the look on Aeron's face and reason for her cryptic smile.  She had prompted me to remember a promise held; that as a gift for a gift, the child I spoke of, would afford me an opportunity, though delayed, to journey and escape as well, if only momentarily, if, I so desired; Peter, in each instance, I expectantly and most willingly desired.



"In a brief moment, I had all but completed my obligation and mused that I had escaped what bound me and had moved forward:  becoming  a timely bearer of a solitary gift.  I understood why the spirit cajoled my reminiscenses.  She did so as but a prelude to explain the extent of my voyage.  In retrospect, though delayed, it eventually proved to be an exceptional and most illuminating crossing.  You must read the first of my letters to appreciate, why I now particularly relish the moment as I dwell in the reality of my escape.



"Hah,  hah, ah ahhh.  Forgive me; it is a most delightful memory, which I wouldn't have missed for the .....what?  Ohh, there you go again...the look on your face...how wonderful!  Peter, you neither have grasped nor appreciate the humor.  Aeron's words were...well...timed.  Ho, ho, ho, ho.  Very funny...berry funny indeed.  Though I must confess, that is not exactly how I reflected upon those words at that particular moment:  no, just the opposite.  Besides, for some reason, in retrospect, I am now inclined to surmise that in reality she takes herself quite seriously while maintaining a decided, if not slightly mischievous, proclivity for the dramatic.



"In any event, no sooner the thought, again the enduring spirit wheedled my ego with her words of, "Truly creditable, you have achieved the fifth level.  As a learned man, however, you are still in need:  of an answer, of an explanaton and of a passageway by which to return.  Therefore, to resolve the enigma and advance you must explicate the confines of the esoteric to return."



"Peter, I must admit...as I shook my head my jaw fell in disbelief.  I sat wide-eyed and certainly perplexed; and mused myself playing a game of echelons in that each progressive step in the offset formation, inevitably had led me closer to the point of the hunter in pursuit of the ever elusive.  Had I come this far to be quizzed by yet another and seeming now tortuous riddle within a riddle?  I sat for several moments and if not for her additional thought to me of, "Take heart...I will assist," I would have been reduced to...