The Wall

By J. E. Hall

While driving through Kansas a very ordinary man named John
Christian encounters an extraordinary being called The Keeper. He tells John
that an age-old conflict between the inhabitants in his world is about to
result in unthinkable death and destruction. This strange being believes that
John can help prevent this tragedy. John is taken to the Keepers world, where
he meets Kate Fleur and Simon Platt. The Keeper has brought them there as well.

One group of the inhabitants has built a magnificent wall to
keep their enemy out. John observes that the wall has been equally effective in
confining its builders. The prejudices of the beings in the Keepers world are
familiar to the three strangers. And the politics practiced there mimics the
all too familiar political chicanery in this world.

Kate gives the people new hope for life. Simon exposes the
cruelty of their traditions. John overcomes his self-doubt and discovers that
he has the ability to lead. But the inhabitants of this world must ultimately
make the decision to opt for peace themselves. Fortunately the hope for a
better life can be found in the hearts of the inhabitants of that world, as
well as our own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2003
• ISBN: 9781410775436

J. E. Hall

J.E. Hall is a native of Long Island, New York. He is a graduate of the New York Institute of Technology. His interests in politics was instrumental in shaping his first novel The Wall. Hall’s concern for the environment influenced his second novel Two Men With A Mission. His third novel, Angie of the Garden, reflects his interest in history. Bad Wine, Crappy Chocolate was inspired by the government’s inability to address the issues of our time. J.E. Hall enjoys traveling to the unspoiled places in this world. Still this author believes that a person’s most fascinating journeys are the ones taken with the mind alone. He is currently working on his fifth novel.

Book preview

© 2003 by J.E. Hall. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 1-4107-7543-7 (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4107-7542-9 (Paperback)

ISBN13:  978-1-4107-7543-6 (e-book)

IstBooks-rev. 09/18/03

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

FOR MOM & DAD

CHAPTER ONE

So this used to be covered by an inland sea?

That thought occurred to the driver of the tractor-trailer as it moved down a Kansas highway. His nine-year-old son had mentioned that fact during breakfast on the morning he left Maryland. On the journey to deliver his cargo of fresh fish, John Christian thought only of arriving at his destination quickly enough to qualify for a bonus. Having accomplished that goal, his mind was now free to wander during the long trip home. The height of the cab provided the driver with a panoramic view. The plains stretched out for miles in all directions under the brilliant blue sky.

John was proud of his son, and enjoyed the boy’s keen interest in science. He reminded him of himself at that age. But during the process of growing up John had lost his curiosity about such matters. Yet at this very moment the processes that had shaped the world around him suddenly fascinated him. His mind meandered back to a time when Kansas was a strikingly different place.

Millions of years ago, this was a seabed. If there were people around back then, and they could see it now, I wonder what their reaction would be? John mused to himself as he drove on.

Hours later another significant change took place, though it was less dramatic than those caused by the geological forces that had vanquished the sea. The sky in front of the truck began to darken. Ominous rain clouds quickly consumed the brilliant blue, with the exception of a small area in back of the truck. The sunlight coming from behind the cab illuminated the road before him, and produced a glow in the wheat fields next to the highway. The contrast between light and dark made for a dramatic scene, and John was hard pressed to concentrate on his driving.

In the field on the right side of the truck he saw stalks of wheat being whipped into a frenzy by the wind. Three brilliant points of white light suddenly appeared there. John was so startled by the sight that he almost stopped the truck in the middle of the highway. But he quickly regained his composure. John could not find the lights again after he recovered. He concluded that his eyes were playing tricks on him. John continued to drive through the gathering storm

Yet he could not stop thinking about it. The flash was like the effect that a lighthouse would produce. It was there for a second, and then gone in the next instant after the beacon had continued on.

Time to stop for a bit. The truck driver concluded.

John intended to stop in Landsville and hoped to reach that small town before the rain began. The Byway Diner was there, and it served the best food in Kansas. This diner also employed the most pleasant waitress that John had ever encountered. He reached his destination just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and the rain began to fall. John parked the truck and hurried inside.

Hello John. Linda, who was displaying her usual warm smile, said to him.

How are you? I just beat the storm. John replied as he sat down at the counter.

Are you on your way there or on your way back?

Going home.

How’s your family?

No complaints. John said as he sipped the coffee that she poured for him. Brad just finished school. My wife is insisting that we take a vacation. But I’d like to keep making money. College isn’t cheap, you know.

Thinking of going back to school? Linda pretended to misunderstand.

Not anytime soon. John replied with a smile. What’s the best thing on the menu?

Pork chops. That is, if you can stand the grease.

I’ll take my chances.

John thumbed through the paper as he waited for his meal. The mirror behind the counter caught the reflections of the customers entering and leaving the diner. He looked into it for a moment and a piercing white light suddenly struck his eyes. John was momentarily blinded. After his vision returned he turned around to see if a flashbulb had gone off behind him. But there was no camera to be seen. The other patrons did not seem to have noticed the light. Linda came back with his dinner.

Is there something wrong, John?

No, not at all. I think my empty stomach is affecting my eyesight. That, and driving all day long. I’ll be fine after I eat.

Linda moved on to another customer. She had seen many drivers over the years. Far too many of them pushed themselves to the point where fatigue made them dangerous. Tired drivers made for hideous accidents. Yet she knew that this was the way of their profession. But John always seemed too sensible to let himself become that tired. Linda was hoping that he would not prove her wrong.

She glanced back and saw him eagerly eating his meal. The glasses he wore made him look more like a schoolteacher than a truck driver. Linda chuckled to herself, for John never appeared to be comfortable on his favorite stool. This tall, lanky man would have been better suited to one of the booths. But that would mean that another waitress would serve him.

John was also becoming concerned about his physical condition. He had been making this run for a number of years. Though always tired at the end of the journey, he had never had to wonder about his ability to finish this trip before. Like any traveler, John was always anxious to reach home, but his judgement about how much further he could drive was never impaired by that desire. Whenever John started to feel that his senses were being dulled by a long journey, his wife’s words always came to mind.

I would rather have you arrive a day later then to have you not arrive at all.

The meal he had just eaten suddenly made him feel like a new man. His eyes were clear and focused. A third cup of coffee would carry him the rest of the way home. Perhaps the flashes were the result of driving all day under the glare of a cloudless sky.

How’s it going?

Burt, one of the locals as Linda referred to them, took the stool next to John.

Not bad. I reached Topeka in record time, John replied.

I was just there myself. I saw an old friend of mine. I also saw a lot of foreigners. They were speaking god knows what language. The damn federal government is dumping them on us like there’s no tomorrow.

A foreigner, in your opinion, is anyone that isn’t exactly like you, Linda remarked as she poured a cup of coffee for Burt. You think we should have a world full of Burts.

I wasn’t talking to you, missy, he replied. But if you ever left this town and saw the rest of the state you’d know what I was talking about.

How could I ever leave here? I’d miss you, Linda responded in a sarcastic, but not unkind, tone.

I’m sure you would. These ‘people’ only come here to go on the dole. We’re going to be overrun by them.

Some of them do come here just to take advantage. But there are many others that just want the opportunity to have a better life. And they’re willing to work hard for it, John said.

He had, in the opinion of his wife and others that knew him, the annoying ability to agree with someone while disagreeing with them at the same time.

You’re always sitting on the fence, Linda chastised him.

Maybe I do. But there are very few things in this world that are black and white.

That’s bullshit. If it walks like a duck, and looks like a duck, and sounds like a duck, then it’s a duck. Burt retorted.

Burt had lived in Kansas all his life, and the thought of change invading its borders in his twilight years was too much for him to bear. John was never one to argue. And he wanted to use his newfound strength for more constructive things. Further discussion would never resolve this issue, so John changed the subject.

How does your daughter like California? he asked Linda.

Just fine, so she tells me. Molly wanted to live someplace with a faster pace, and Los Angeles will make this town seem even slower than it really is.

Does she still want to become an actress? Burt asked her.

That’s what she says. But we’ll see. I just hope she finds the time to make me a grandmother, even though I would be a long distance one at that. Enjoy them while you can, John. Children grow up quickly.

Amen to that. Burt agreed.

Well, it’s time for me to be on my way. I’ll see you on my next trip, John said as he stood up.

He looked out the window, and was relieved to see that the storm had passed.

Good to see you again, Burt said to him.

I’ll see you soon, Linda said as she walked him to the door. Be careful, John.

There was a look of concern on her usually cheerful face when she said that. John could not remember ever having received such a somber farewell from her.

I will. I’ll see you soon.

The sky was filled with stars as John drove into the night. He felt as though the truck was moving towards them as it climbed the steep hills that occasionally appeared in its path. John had intended to drive until midnight. This was his favorite part of the trip. The absence of the usual daytime traffic made for steady progress. Linda’s remark about children growing up inspired a sense of urgency within him. A melancholy feeling came over John. He was anxious to return home, and hear some more fascinating facts from Brad. But his wife’s words came back to him.

I would rather have you arrive a day later then to have you not arrive at all. Be careful.

There was a sound of foreboding in her voice when Jane spoke those words before this trip. Or was that just in his imagination? In either case, her admonishment increased his caution. As did Linda’s somber good by.

But I’ve made this trip for years. John thought out loud. I started driving through Kansas just after the inland sea disappeared. I know what I’m doing.

He drove on.

Later that night another flash of brilliant white light startled him. This time it came from the side view mirror. The three points of light formed a pyramidal shape. He pulled over to the side of the road. John was barely able to manage that sudden maneuver.

There must be another truck behind me, he decided.

But no other vehicle appeared. John paused for several moments, and then decided to find a room for the night. He was not convinced that the light was just a symptom of his fatigue. But the truck driver was hoping that a good night’s sleep would prove him wrong. He carefully drove back onto the highway. His hands had been shaky when he slipped the truck into first gear, but were steady by the time he drove into the parking lot of a small hotel just before the Kansas border. John walked up to the desk and rang the bell.

I’ll be with you in a minute, a voice called from the small room behind it.

I don’t feel tired, John thought to himself. I’ll have my eyes checked when I get home. Maybe I just need new glasses.

Sorry to keep you waiting. I was watching a ballgame.

No problem. I need a room for the night.

What are you driving?

A truck.

A big one?

Yes. It’s a tractor trailer.

Where did you park?

On the roof, John thought to himself. Then he told the clerk. In front of the motel.

Could you move it around back? We like to save the front parking lot for the people with cars.

John grinned at the man. There was only one car in the parking lot now. Unless a convention suddenly appeared there would be ample parking available for anyone that arrived after him. But to some people, rules were rules.

Sure. I’ll park my truck behind the hotel.

Much obliged. That will be thirty dollars for the night.

He handed the clerk his credit card. As John walked outside he again wondered if this respite was really necessary. But the flashes could be a symptom of a more serious problem than fatigue. He might run into trouble farther down the road, without a place nearby to spend the night.

John parked his truck in a field behind the hotel. His room was sparsely furnished but it was more than adequate for one night. Taking a cue from the hotel clerk, John turned on the ballgame. In his youth, baseball occupied much of his time, whether he was actually playing the game or just observing one. Over the years John had lost interest in the sport, but tonight he needed something to occupy his mind. The news was too depressing, and the movies and other fare too contrived. He stretched out on the bed and started to watch the game.

The television was a poor pacifier. His mind kept returning to the events that had brought him to this room. If his vision problem really was the symptom of a serious illness, he would no longer be able to support his wife and child. John had heard many horror stories about apparently healthy people becoming incapacitated in an instant. Brad and Jane needed him in many ways, and not the least of which was as their sole means of support. He could certainly not afford to become a burden. John decided to see a doctor when he arrived home.

But as the night wore on he experienced no more problems with his vision. John decided that driving in the glare of the sun had caused the flashes of light. Rest was all that he really needed. He felt better, and began to enjoy the game. There was no need to see a doctor.

That’s one fine example of human nature, he said with a laugh. Why see a doctor when you can diagnose yourself.

But just as the final out was recorded a pinpoint of light appeared in the right-hand corner of the television screen. John tried to ignore it, but could not. He rubbed his eyes, then looked away, but the spot remained and continued to grow. A second one became visible above it, and then another point appeared to the left of the first one. They became more brilliant as the moments went by. John reached for the phone, with the intention of asking the clerk to call for help. He never made the call.

As the size of the triangle increased, a bluish tinge began to mingle with the white. John realized that the television was not emitting the lights. They were between him and the television. Then the triangle began to assume a different shape. There was a pair of eyes in the center of it. A shudder passed through his body, and he stumbled towards the door. John was frightened but he turned and looked behind him before reaching it. There was a figure standing where the lights had been. He was dressed in a bluish white robe, which suddenly changed to countless pastel colors that bled into each other as the ethereal figure moved towards John. The eyes bore down upon him, with a riveting stare that eliminated all thoughts of his escaping. There was no malice in them. But they emitted an irresistible command for him to stay.

John Christian. The figure spoke in a thick and halting

voice.

John could not respond. The words had not really been spoken, but instead had come directly into his mind. The figure reminded him of a hologram. John quickly looked around for a clue as to how this image had been projected into the room. But the only unusual thing he could see was the figure standing before him. The intruder was old. John had not reached that conclusion solely because of the visitor’s long white hair and the numerous wrinkles in his skin. There was also something ancient, yet very vital, about his eyes as well.

John found the courage to move towards him. He stayed near the wall of the hotel room, in case it was needed for support. The deeply set eyes continued to inspect him. John found it difficult to return their gaze. The colors in the robe glistened. The figure remained perfectly still now, yet his eyes followed John as he moved cautiously towards him. The strange face reminded him of a portrait he had once seen. Despite being nothing more than paint on canvas, the eyes of the subject in the painting had followed him as he moved.

John Christian, the figure repeated in a stronger voice.

What? … Who are you? John asked weakly.

I am, John Christian.

I’ve heard that before, he thought to himself.

John searched his memory. Moses, when he came upon the burning bush, had received the same reply. But John knew that he was not in the presence of a deity in spite of the manner in which this being had entered the room. The hologram was something on a very different level, but he was certain it was not God. In fact, this could be just another symptom of his illness. John thought that he might be schizophrenic.

I am here. I am here, John Christian. The figure tried to reassure him.

This time the words were definitely spoken aloud. John observed the man carefully. His gray whiskers now seemed to be solid. They moved as the words came from his mouth. The robe was as real as his own clothing, though it shimmered in an unearthly way. The figure had lost its ethereal quality, and John began to believe that this experience might actually be real.

Yes. I am here now. And you, you are John Christian.

Yes I am. And what, or who, are you?

Of all your words, I think ‘Keeper’ would describe me best. I am the Keeper of the other side. No, that’s not quite right. Keeper of another side will do much better, I think. There are many worlds that exist near your own, though you are unaware of them. I am from another place, John Christian.

You’re an alien? John asked with an incredulous expression on his face.

You may refer to me that way. But your kind use that term to describe some of your own, even though the differences between any two of you are merely superficial. But you may think of me as an alien, even if the difference between you and me is far more than just superficial, John Christian.

The Keeper moved towards him. He was clearly a living being. The visitor now moved like an ordinary man. The truck driver remained huddled against the wall. The intruder gazed at him intently before speaking again.

There is nothing wrong with your mind. You should sit down, John Christian.

The Keeper motioned towards the bed. John attempted to sit down but missed the edge of the bed. He fell on the floor and heard his wife say klutz!, as she had so many times through the years. The Keeper did not notice, or at least did not acknowledge his blunder. He waited for John to sit on the bed before continuing, however.

Now I will answer your next question, John Christian.

My next question?

Yes. You were going to ask me why I’m here, John Christian.

That question had not yet formed in his mind, but it was about to. John waited for the strange visitor to give his answer. The colors in his robe continued to bleed into one another.

The people in the world I know are about to enter into a, to use your word, ‘crisis,’ John Christian.

My word?

The people of my world have many different words to describe many different concepts. But crisis is not one of them. Their society has not known that particular circumstance for a very long time. For many years there have been two different groups of people that have coexisted in my world. One has prospered, while the other has merely survived. The less fortunate ones have now obtained the power that once belonged only to the privileged. A violent conflict could arise as a result, resulting in the loss of many lives. I see signs, very, to use your word, ‘ominous’ signs, John Christian, the Keeper told him in a somber voice.

Are you a psychic?

The Keeper seemed surprised by the question. He thought carefully before answering.

No. I am not ordinary, by your standards. But my abilities are not inherent. They have been acquired over a countless number of years. I have the wisdom of one who has seen life evolve through hundreds of generations. I merely observe events. My premonitions are based on my experience, John Christian.

The Keeper walked across the room. He seemed lost in thought, and John wondered if he remembered that there was someone else in the room. But the gaze of his fathomless eyes soon fell upon the truck driver once more.

No, I do not like what I have observed. There could be a terrible ‘cataclysm,’ to use your word, near at hand. I came here to ask for your help, John Christian.

John stared at the Keeper in disbelief. A being with such vast knowledge, and remarkable abilities, would be much better suited to handle this crisis then he would. John was a very ordinary man, and had little, if any, advice to offer. Now the idea that this was all an illusion occurred to him again. This experience must be the product of an ailing mind.

Why me? John asked him in spite of his doubts about the reality of the Keeper. I can’t do anything to help you.

The Keeper moved closer to the bed. He paused before answering, and again took some time to consider his response. The room appeared to have become smaller, as if the stature of the ethereal figure had somehow increased.

There is nothing that you have done in your life that would lead one to believe that you could help me. That is true, John Christian.

John felt as though he had been insulted. He would agree that there was nothing remarkable about his accomplishments. John toiled in the obscurity of the masses. But he had accomplished something. John had a family that depended upon him. There were many days when driving a truck was far from easy, but he came through for them. That counted for something.

I was not criticizing you. The Keeper sensed his indignation. I meant that you have never been given the opportunity to do something that would determine the fate of the people in your world. At least not in a way that would benefit mankind as a whole. I know of your family, and friends. Your life has been very worthwhile up ‘til now. But I am offering you a chance to help thousands of people, though they are unlike any that you have ever met, John Christian.

He was somewhat mollified by the Keeper’s response. But John was still at a loss as to why he was asking for his help.

What makes you think that I can make a difference in your world?

I am somewhat of a ‘eavesdropper,’ to use your word. Our paths have crossed once before, though you were not aware of it. I have explored your world. I listened to a conversation you had on the shores of a lake years ago, John Christian.

He suddenly remembered the name Alberta. That was the name of a lake that John had visited with some friends. The image of its clear blue water and the West Virginia Mountains came into his mind. They had just graduated from high school, and traveled into the wilderness to enjoy the last weekend of that summer. They spent their days fishing and their nights by a campfire on the shore. On their last evening there, the conversation turned to their thoughts about the future. That was in between the laughter, which was often at each other’s expense.

I hope you do better in life then you did fishing today, Russell, one of the campers, said to John as they sat by the campfire.

At least I’ll give it as much effort, John replied.

He had fallen out of the canoe while trying to reel in a trout.

The others had already retired to their tents, with the exception of Sara. John’s girlfriend slept on the ground beside him.

I think we can do better, Russell said.

Better than this? There’s no way. This is great, John replied.

No, I mean in making a better world. Many of the old ideas about what’s really important in life, and how we should treat each other, have outlived their usefulness. A better world is not just some unrealistic goal that can never be achieved. We all have to do our share to bring it about.

John was taken aback. Between Russell, himself, and the other members of their party there had never been much in the way of serious conversation. The speeches that had been given at their graduation ceremony must have made an impression on his friend. There were many references to the things that their generation could do about the problems facing humanity.

Have another beer, John replied with a smile.

You try and introduce a little serious conversation, and all you get in return is sarcasm. I’m just saying that we have a great opportunity to bring about change.

I think we’ll become our parents in the long run. And I’d be satisfied with that. The chance to do something significant will never come our way. At least, not my way, John said with certainty.

I think that you’re selling yourself short.

You’re right. I’ll get right to work on building a better world. As soon as I finish this beer.

I didn’t say that there was any rush, Russell replied with a

grin.

Several years later, John met Russell in Washington. They were both staying at the same hotel. His high school friend was there on business. John was with Jane, and they were taking in the historic sites of that city. After dinner Jane returned to their room, having decided to make an early night of it after a long day of sightseeing. John went down to the bar to meet Russell for a drink.

Russell was working for an oil company. He was in town to do some research. He hoped to find a way for his employer to circumvent a recently passed government regulation. It had been intended to protect the environment, but the oil company saw it as just one more roadblock to increasing their profits.

I’ll find a loophole, you can be sure of that, he told John. The lawmakers always leave one in there. I’ll be a star.

Remember the trip to Lake Alberta? I can still hear you talking about making a better world, John reminded him.

Vaguely. But I do remember a lot of empty beer cans, Russell said.

You were very philosophical on our last night there. You said something like ‘If everyone makes an effort, we can build a better world.’ You thought we could do better than the generations that came before us.

That doesn’t sound like me. There’s a lot of competition out there, Johnny boy. I’m just trying to climb up the corporate ladder.

I hope you do better than I did in the canoe.

They both laughed, and continued to reminisce until last call. Then the two of them returned to their rooms after making the perfunctory, never-to-be-kept promise to see each other soon. John felt somewhat disappointed as he undressed and climbed into bed beside his sleeping wife. Their conversation near the lake had convinced him that Russell would strive for something noble in his life. Certainly he would do something more significant than John’s chosen occupation. But his friend never followed up on his words.

Why not find Russell? John said to the Keeper. He was the one talking about creating a better world. I never considered myself capable of doing such a thing.

John watched the figure as he moved in front of the mirror. There was a reflection of the Keeper in the glass. Now he was almost sure that this was really happening.

There are many people that talk about doing something significant with their lives, yet they have no real intention of doing it. There are others who would if they could, but believe that they can’t, so they never attempt to do so. I believe that Russell is one of the former, while you are one of the latter. Just as you have recently rediscovered your curiosity about the processes that created this world, you might also find that you’ve always had the desire to right the wrongs that you see around you, John Christian.

John was both fascinated and frightened at the same time. This was either a being that could read his innermost thoughts, or an apparition that his mind had produced with those thoughts.

How did you know about that?

I have always believed that the driving force behind all change in a society is necessity, the Keeper continued without answering his question. I believe that in your own world you have never felt that necessity. I also believe that you are, to use your word, a ‘freethinker’. And that is the type of individual that can help me, John Christian.

The people in your world have no word for that?

They have no need of it. None of the people there, with the exception of a very few, can be described that way. There is no reason to create a word if it is never used, John Christian.

I don’t know anything about your world. What kind of cataclysm are you talking about?

You must come with me and see for yourself. Let it suffice to say that one group of beings is being threatened by another. The pain and suffering that will result from a conflict between them is unspeakable. Yet those in authority would still let it come about. I think that you can give the leaders in my world another point of view. An objective point of view is what they need. That is why I want your help, John Christian.

The Keeper looked into his eyes, and his gaze transfixed John. The fathomless depth of the two eyes that were brought to bear upon him was like the siren’s song. John’s mind was being drawn inside the Keeper’s, to see and feel all that the ancient figure had observed through the years. In this way he would understand his need.

I couldn’t do that. I’m only one person, John replied after he managed to look away.

You will have help. Two others of your kind have agreed to help me. They have already made the journey to my world, John Christian.

I can’t go with you. My wife and son depend on me.

They will never know that you left. I can return you to this place in the instant after you leave, John Christian.

How is that possible?

Both our worlds can be entered at any point in time, providing that one knows how. And I do know how. I have lived long and learned much, John Christian.

The gray hair and wrinkled skin supported his claim. And John sensed that the Keeper had lived even longer than his appearance suggested. That did not mean that he could be trusted, however.

This can’t be real! John insisted to himself. I must be losing my mind.

Come now. It is time for you to decide. My motive is as stated. I believe that you, and the two others I have chosen, can prevent a great tragedy. You can either come with me, or stay here and miss an opportunity to make a difference. The choice is yours. But I’m sure that you will not have another chance like this in your life, John Christian.

Why can’t you prevent this disaster? John asked him. You must have powers that I can’t even imagine. If you’re the Keeper of your world, then you should be the one to protect the people that live there.

That is a very good point. When I was like them, it was my place to act upon my concerns. But there is a natural order to things. As my life took a different form, the responsibility to right the wrongs in the world I know passed on to those who exist in it as you do in yours. I merely observe, and can only intercede indirectly. And I can only do that if the ordinary people living there reach a juncture where their actions might result in something occurring that is truly a tragedy. Only then can I use all the resources that are available to me, including those that are to be found in another world. But I cannot intercede directly, John Christian.

His answer did not satisfy John. The natural order the Keeper referred to had allowed him to develop some remarkable abilities, yet it prevented the ethereal figure from using them to their maximum advantage. He merely watched as events transpired, and when a dangerous situation arose, looked to others to prevent a tragic outcome. The Keeper would continue to be an observer, while a simple truck driver acted to avert a disaster.

Who came up with that rule? John thought to himself. With rules like that, no wonder things in his world, and our own, seem to be spinning out of control.

My answer was not satisfactory, the Keeper said after seeing the expression on his face. But that is understandable. I could appear before the people in my world and inspire their allegiance. They would be more than willing to follow any commands I gave them. But their obedience would be the result of fear and wonder. They would be subjugated by a being with abilities beyond their comprehension. They would not change their ways because they developed new insight. The change in them would not be one of the heart. And unless I guided them forever, the people would revert back to their old way of living the moment after I left. I was not meant to lead these, or any other people. That is not the purpose of my existence. Only someone who shares their frailties could truly show them another, and hopefully better, way to live. I cannot enlighten these people. But you can, John Christian.

His eyes bore down on John again. They did not plead for his cooperation, but rather sought his understanding. The Keeper would not use coercion. He wanted John to make the decision on his own.

But the truck driver was still unsure about the figure standing before him. How could John focus on making such a decision under these incredible circumstances? But in spite of his uncertainty, he did try.

I can’t go with you, John replied after several moments. My family needs me. And I’m not convinced that I could accomplish anything in your world.

Do you understand what I am offering you? As I said before, you lead a very worthwhile existence in your own world. But I can assure you that influencing the destiny of so many people will not be counted among your accomplishments here. And perhaps not in my world either, though I can give you the opportunity to do so. And I believe that you want such an opportunity, John Christian.

There was a strong desire arising within him to accept this challenge. But common sense kept telling this man that his destiny did not include such a journey. Still, John was intrigued.

Do these people speak my language? he asked the Keeper. How will we understand each other? Everything about your world will be strange to me.

That is true. Yet the people on the earth are very diverse in their language and customs. If you were to travel from one continent to another it would be similar to entering another world. But you would still manage to communicate with the people there. There are certain concepts among intelligent beings that are universal. You will learn about the people in my world, and hopefully they will learn about you, John Christian.

John had no illusions about being able to accomplish the task described by the Keeper. But the invitation to visit another world was very difficult to decline.

You must decide. Join the others of your kind that are waiting for you in my world, or bid me to take my leave. You must give me your answer, John Christian.

John was still not convinced. He did not believe that an ordinary person like him could change the course of events in his own world. So he certainly could not be expected to do so in the one that the strange figure described. This offer was too intriguing to dismiss out of hand, however.

I’d have to stay there for a year, or even longer, just to begin to understand their language, John pointed out.

I will make it possible for them to understand you, and for you to understand them, John Christian.

How?

I’ll show you, if you come with me. If you decide not to, then there is no point in my answering your question, John Christian.

Do you have a plane to catch? John asked him. He then continued when his attempt to interject some humor did not succeed. I’m not completely sure that you are real. I might be having some kind of breakdown. But if this is real, and I said no, I would never forgive myself. It would bother me for the rest of my life. You have to promise me that my family will not worry while I’m gone.

Your family will not suffer, in the end, because of your absence. I will, to use your word, ‘promise’ that. Please lay on the bed. And leave your glasses here, John Christian.

But I can’t see without them, John protested.

Being truly nearsighted comes from being unable to see beyond the boundaries of your own mind. By accepting my offer you have already shown that you do not suffer from that affliction. I believe that your vision will improve in Drusba, John Christian.

John followed the Keeper’s instructions. He expected to awake from this strange dream as soon as his head touched the pillow. Instead John suddenly felt his body rising above the bed. But he had not moved. John had lost the ability to feel his body pressing against the mattress. He was becoming an ethereal being like the figure standing beside him. The ability to experience physical sensations was lost to him now.

John felt as though he was dissipating. Only his deepest thoughts and feelings remained intact. The room faded away, and he became like the Keeper. His surroundings became a montage of every color he had ever seen, and his mind and soul merged into one. John heard Jane’s voice warning him once again.

I would rather have you arrive a day later then to have you not arrive at all. Be careful!

CHAPTER TWO

Though John had regained consciousness, he could not open his eyes.

He felt as though his body had been taken apart and reduced to individual particles as small as grains of sand, then hastily reassembled. The connections between his mind and his physical extremities had still yet to be reestablished. John was never very coordinated, and now he felt extremely uncoordinated. His eyelids would not open in response to his mind’s commands.

It might have taken an hour, or a day, before they finally responded. The beautiful kaleidoscope of colors that had replaced the wall of his hotel room was gone now. Instead he found himself in another room with walls made of stones that were cut in the shape of a pyramid. The pattern of one being inverted over another was repeated throughout the room. John had surely taken a journey, for this did not resemble any room that he was familiar with.

He was lying on a cot. The material from which it was made had a velveteen quality to it. John soon fell into a deep sleep once more. After awakening again, his attempt to stand ended with his kneeling on the hard floor. John stayed in that position for several moments, or possibly for the rest of that day. Finally the ability to place one foot in front of the other returned to him. John walked out of the room, and found himself in a much larger one. Two people were sitting at a table there. His entrance interrupted their meal.

Hello. How do you feel? We went through the same thing. You’ll feel better soon, believe me. Have a seat. Let me introduce myself, the woman said.

There was a stone bench attached to the wall. John collapsed on it, and she rushed over to assist him.

You’ll get stronger. Why don’t you have something to eat? There’s plenty of food here. Where do you come from? I’m from Texas.

Her words came too quickly for John’s mind to comprehend at that moment. His thought processes were barely ahead of his still very limited motor functions. The woman asked John one question and then quickly asked another, without waiting for the answer in between.

Let him rest. You know he needs time to recover. We certainly did. Come back here and finish you meal, the man sitting at the table told her.

He was in better condition than John was, but still had trouble chewing his food. He looked at the new arrival sympathetically.

You’re alright, the woman told him. You just need rest. Why don’t you go back to bed? That’s what I did. And believe me, another couple of hours will make all the difference in the world.

John followed her suggestion, though he slept on the bench. He felt much stronger when he awoke, and managed to reach the table.

Good morning, the man greeted him. You look much better. Try to eat something. I would think that this ‘Keeper’ fellow could find a less stressful way to bring us here.

John stared at the plate in front of him. There were strands of a fibrous plant on it. They resembled corn stalks, but with an unappetizing brown color. The effort required to eat this fare was almost beyond his current capacity. The food’s appearance did little to encourage him.

This meal requires a blindfold, John thought to himself.

It looks worse than it really is. Try to force yourself, the man told him.

John managed a few mouthfuls, but no more. After he finished John returned to the bench. His breakfast companion joined him.

Have you seen the Keeper? John asked him.

Not since I’ve been here. Kate was waiting for me when I arrived. I’m just relieved that she has someone else to talk to now. She has quite a gift for gab.

Where is she now?

She went outside for a walk. Do you think that this is real?

I’ve never seen anything like this building before. It sure seems like something from another world. But maybe someone slipped something into my coffee. This could all be a hallucination.

My thoughts exactly. Yet if my mind were to conjure up someone for me to speak with, I don’t believe that it would be Kate, or you, for that matter. No offense intended.

Who would you expect?

I would expect a very learned individual. I’m interested in scholarly pursuits. I’m used to stimulating conversations. I know our companion does not fit that description, and if I’m not terribly mistaken, neither do you.

No, I don’t. But it could be the other way around. Maybe this is my fantasy. And in that case, my mind has disappointed me. No offense intended.

The man bristled at his remark. But John managed a weak smile, which somewhat lessened his indignation.

You should see what’s out there! Kate exclaimed as she walked back inside. Oh, you’re awake. And you look so much better. Why don’t we all take a walk outside?

I think he should rest a while longer. But I am anxious to see what’s outside. Why don’t you stay with…what’s your name?

John Christian.

I’m Simon Platt.

My name is Kate Fleur.

You stay with John, Kate. I’m going outside to look around, Simon said as he stood up and walked out the door.

You won’t believe what it’s like out there. But Simon is right. You need more rest. Should I tell you what I saw? No, you’ll want to see it for yourself. So where are you from? I’m from Texas. But I’ve already told you that. Where did you say you were from?

Maryland. John finally had the opportunity to respond as she caught her breath.

Oh, that’s a nice place. I’ve never been there, but we have relatives that live there. Well, they used to, anyway. They’ve visited us a few times. I’m from Texas. There I go again, repeating myself. I must have driven Simon crazy while we were waiting for you.

John was amused by this very casual, if not one-sided, conversation. It was as though they had met at a party.

I believe that this is real, Simon declared in a somber voice after he returned.

He did not give an explanation for his belief.

John spent most of that day taking a series of short naps. His body began to respond to his mind’s commands as quickly as it had before his journey. The ability to think clearly came back more slowly, but when he awoke the next morning his ability to focus had returned. John walked outside before the others awoke.

He would never forget his first glimpse of that strange land. The most striking feature was the sky above him. For all the days of his life, a clear daytime sky had been blue. But that was not true in this world. A brilliant orange canopy stretched out overhead. John stared at it for quite some time before finally believing his eyes.

The land around the stone building was barren. The hard ground was gray in color. There were wide expanses of flat land with rock formations of all shapes and sizes that appeared intermittently. Some stood singularly, like monuments, while others were in groups. They reminded him of ruins, though these were apparently natural. Hills dotted the areas in between them. They were gently sloping and as lifeless as the rest of the terrain. John heard a sound like the wind, then realized it was something else that was equally familiar.

The sea! he exclaimed.

Isn’t this amazing? Kate ran up behind him.

Do I hear the ocean?

"Yes. I walked along the beach yesterday. Let’s