Suspended

By Peter Jenvay

Though we are surrounded by humanity's great potential for kindness and love, we can't help but be aware of the dark side of human existence. Disease, famine, wars, social and political injustice, and crimes against the decency of man. We celebrate the heroes, honor the victims, and condemn the agents of terror. We seek justice! And within all that, we wonder why it is that humanity is so divided. Why is it so difficult--we dare not say impossible--for the inhabitants of this earth to give way to goodness? Why, indeed, is there no intervention from above? What would we risk to seek justice and defend innocence?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662462528

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Suspended

Peter Jenvay

Copyright © 2021 Peter Jenvay

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-6251-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-6389-1 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-6252-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 13

Day 14

Day 15

Day 16

Day 17

Day 18

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Epilogue

List of Characters

About the Author

For Sean and Antoinette, with fondness and devotion, and for the Celestials—and humans—who love and guide them.

Acknowledgments

A thank you.

Bless the author who can do it all!

I confess that I cannot. And so, I wish to acknowledge and thank, once more, the entire staff at Page Publishing, Inc. for helping me create my first novel. A very special thanks to Katie McCray for her ongoing help, availability and efficiency.

Closer to home, I wish to thank my friends and fellow sailors—Alex Christie, Steve Bagnall, and most lovingly, Tina Bagnall—for their generous time and know-how with tech issues.

At the eleventh hour, I sincerely offer my gratitude to Roger Marshall for his perceptive and inspiring rendition of MITS on the cover of this book!

Lastly, I wish to thank this great, big, chaotic world around me for inspiring me to write my story.

Day 1

Wednesday, May 3

It's been almost three years since the event, but it's in no way over. You can't go anywhere without hearing folks talking obsessively about it, regardless of what their personal take on it is. It's changed everyone. Hell, it's changed the town, and surely, it's changed the world! For me, it's as though it happened yesterday.

It was early in the morning, just as the sun was announcing its arrival in the east—May 3. The first day of many I'll never be able to forget. I wanted to get an early start on a fence-building project at Dr. Whitaker's home on Elm Street, just off-campus. Dr. Whitaker is a professor of literature at Rimmerton College, and to me, one of his former students, he is now simply Rik—short for Emerik. That familiarity in no way implies any lack of respect. He brought a much-needed clarity to my life that extended beyond the curriculum. The relationship is simple: We care about each other. It was on that Wednesday morning that I was walking down Market Street, heading toward Elm, when a car approached me on the other side of the street. He was traveling at high speed—not uncommon in these parts—and suddenly began swerving and seemed to be out of control. Though he was still about one hundred yards away, I was afraid he might hit me. As I moved to the extreme right on my northbound side, the car suddenly swerved to its right and landed on its side in the shallow ditch, tearing up a good portion of the roadside.

I pulled myself together and ran to the car. I guess adrenaline came into play, and without much thought, I pulled open the driver's side door (upward in this situation) and saw only a man, perhaps in his thirties, bleeding heavily from his face and neck. I could feel myself shaking and getting light-headed and nauseated. But I think I did the right thing; I called 911 and reported the severity of the accident and location. The woman must have asked other questions, but it's a blur now. As I waited for help to come, the man—who was somewhat conscious—kept pointing, weakly, toward the top of his windshield, which was cracked but not broken. In addition, the windshield was covered with dirt and was now oriented left-side-up! I kept asking his name, but he seemed too out of it and probably didn't understand me. Yet he kept pointing up—or what was up—mumbling something that sounded like maahn. No idea what he was trying to say, and I assumed he was merely delirious. Just before the police car and ambulance arrived, the man appeared to lose consciousness. It was then that I noticed a large bleeding gash on the right side of his head. With much care and awkward manipulation, the man was extracted and placed into the ambulance by three EMTs. The two police officers remained with me to question me about specifics and recorded my personal information. The lady officer said the driver was lucky I was there to call it in. I didn't feel lucky, and I was still shaking! What a way to start the day. I decided that Rik's fence would have to wait until tomorrow.

But what I was trying to tell you wasn't about the accident—not exactly. It was about what caused the accident and what followed that particular event. After the police left the scene, I headed back home, in the direction the police had gone. Home was a small apartment near town that I had been living in since graduation from Rimmerton. I managed to merit a low rent, serving the landlady as a caretaker and repairman. It worked out really well for me while I was getting my act together, deciding what path in life was meant for me!

As I headed south, past the large field that separated the college School of Learning and the newer Student Union, something caught my eye. My view was now almost into the rising sun, and I couldn't swear about anything I might have seen just then. But whatever it was, clear or not, it simply didn't belong there! It didn't!

What I want to tell you and what I'm determined to tell you is what I eventually saw above the campus that day. I know you're going to dismiss this as pure BS—fantasy, insanity, and perhaps a writer's need for attention. But it was—and perhaps still is—the honest truth! You'll have to decide for yourself. What I do know is that no matter how you will want to evaluate this tale, it will forever affect my life and the lives of countless others who have been a part of this story.

To get a better view of the thing I saw, I began walking onto the campus, onto the green grass that covered several acres, and found myself directly below the object—the form—that was out of place, that didn't belong. I'd never been good at judging distances, but I would have guessed that the thing was about two hundred feet up. But from directly below it, I couldn't make out the shape. So I continued to walk up the slight incline toward the school building, which was four and five stories tall in some places and was still much lower than the object in question. As my angle of observation changed, I was able to make out what it was. But it made no sense! It was totally absurd and without any possible rational explanation. Here's the difficult part of the telling: It was the form of a man! He appeared to be of normal proportions, though without a nearby reference, it was hardly possible to determine his size. He appeared young, inanimate, and totally naked!

His posture was upright and slightly reclining, as though loosely resting on a wall of pillows. What was most shocking and outrageously unintuitive was the fact that he was suspended in the air without any apparent aids! He was floating! But floating is not the right word since it implies movement or some state of instability. He seemed frozen in place. So it appeared. Perhaps at this point, I've lost you, and you're about to throw this book away. I hope not because there's more.

By this time, daylight had arrived, and the movement of students and faculty had begun to animate the campus scene. It would be an understatement to say that what I was seeing above the meadow put me into a state of disbelief and shock. But I was also surprised that no one else was aware of the mysterious entity. It seems that people just don't look up! Everything of any importance appears to be at one's feet or at eye level.

Eventually someone else saw it too, and then things changed. A young coed saw the object and screamed so loud that people came running toward her to offer assistance. All she managed to say was Look! and pointed up to the sky. I then realized what the victim in the accident was trying to point out! What he saw was the "man"! It didn't take long before the entire campus got the message.

The morning classes on Wednesdays were fewer in number, but that still meant that several hundred pairs of eyes were fixated on the man in the sky. You could hear all sorts of comments, from expressions of shock, fear, speculation, and mostly Oh my god! We're all familiar with the five Ws and one H, which serve as a guideline for informative writing. Even without consciously going through the list, everyone was doing it simply as a rational exercise to get at the truth of it. But right now, there were no answers to the who, what, where, when, why, and how—except perhaps the what, where, and when.

What: the image of a young man hanging above the Rimmerton College campus. Where: the private college campus in Solace, Iowa. When: the event was witnessed by numerous students, faculty, and workers at about 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, May 3. Obviously, no one had any idea of who (or what) the thing was. But I think the last two questions are the true mysteries of the event. How was this possible? Why was it happening?

By the end of day, numerous police vehicles were on the grass below the man in the sky. A circle of markers was placed directly under the hanging man, about one hundred feet in diameter, as if someone thought he might fall down and injure a spectator! Fire department vehicles also colored the landscape, as did other emergency entities. All were apparently at a loss as to how to deal with this unprecedented situation. On top of the immediate list was safety. But who's? The dangling man's? The onlookers'? Did this enigma represent any kind of threat? No one really knew. But it seemed reasonable that someone should attempt to get a better understanding of what they were dealing with. It was decided that a closer look at the subject would be a good first step. Perhaps an effort to communicate would move things along though it was generally acknowledged that the man seemed to be in a sleeplike state. There was absolutely no noticeable movement. Perhaps he was dead.

The fire team decided to bring up its tallest ladder engine and attempt to make contact from a closer vantage point. The truck was placed into position, which took quite some time because of the uneven terrain. After some braces were put into position, the ladder was extended to its maximum height of somewhat less than one hundred feet. As a fire team member began the long climb to the top, the crowd, which by now had grown into a sea of onlookers, was silent with anticipation and anxiety. The elite fireman made his ascent with deliberation and caution. Fortunately, there was no wind.

Using an electronic range finder, it was determined that the subject was about 150 feet above the meadow. It was obvious from the start that the ladder would provide only moderate proximity to the suspended man. At the top of the ladder, the fireman, equipped with a two-way radio connecting him to the operations commander on the ground, attempted to make contact with his point of focus using a bullhorn. I don't know what others were thinking, but I was expecting something like A giant step for mankind or perhaps a We come in peace! or a Take me to your leader! That, of course, was silly, but whatever it would be, it should be something memorable, befitting this historic occasion.

It was almost humorous. When confronted with a monumental event, humans tend to humiliate themselves! Not sure what I would have said, given the opportunity, but perhaps something like Hello! We're concerned about you. Can we help?

I know that sounds feeble, but what came out of the mouth of the rescuer was pathetic: You there, can we help you get down? Are you awake? We need you to get down from there! Who are you? We want to talk to you! It was pretty clear that our man in the sky would not reply—if he could even hear or understand the words spoken to him. After more shouts on the bullhorn, it seems the rescuer was told by ground control to come down.

The effort was a failure. The stranger in the sky remained there with no change in position or sign of awareness. We all wondered what would happen next. But the light of day was quickly fading, and any meaningful progress would have to wait until morning. Before total darkness fell upon the campus, the authorities cleared the area and posted squad cars at intervals to lock down the scene for the night, with numerous floodlights marking the area.

Day 2

Thursday, May 4

At dawn's first light, I was back on campus, tired from lack of sleep, watching the coordinated efforts of the police and wondering what strategy they had developed overnight. The pressure was on. The citizens of Solace had a right to expect tactical efficiency and problem-solving ability from their police force. The eyes of the community, the state, and the entire country were now watching to see how Solace's finest would handle this very unique situation. Local and national TV units were now competing for favorable positions on campus. International crews would soon join them in an effort to report on the latest American madness. The man in the sky has quickly become hot news!

The local newspaper was all over this, to the extent that they could, considering that they had no actual news to report other than what was already known to the authorities—which was pretty much nothing. So the paper focused on the man in the street and got his perspective on the event. Those stories of opinions and speculations proved to be surprisingly diverse and even radical! The local publication was, after all, at the epicenter of the story and was in a unique position to influence all other media outlets with their inside and up-close advantage. The Internet, with all its social media capabilities, also fed the curious with updates and information—both true and all-too-often trash. In any case, the acronym MITS (man in the sky), as the local sheet has come to call the event, was on everyone's mind. How could it not be? This was a monumental event, unparalleled in anyone's experience or awareness, except, of course, in the arena of religion, where there are countless references and stories of flights and ascensions. Divine power over gravity, over life and death, and over the elements of nature. Jesus comes to mind, as does Mary and Muhammad. It was becoming obvious that the story of MITS has reached the doors of religious institutions. It's even been rumored that the Vatican has sent observers to ascertain the validity of claims of a miracle! There has been no official statement on the matter, but surely there will be.

With all the happenings since Wednesday morning, I've lost track of time, and my routines have gotten disjointed. I've even neglected to call Rik, with all the distraction. I'm eager to get his take on all of this. I'm sure that as an employee of the college, who lives less than a quarter mile from his office, he's totally aware of MITS and his impact. I'll call him tonight; perhaps we can meet up.

Another thing I hadn't mentioned is my girlfriend, Emily, who lived in New York. She's coming to join me in a few days, and I was truly excited to see her. It had been almost four months since we were together last. Emily and I met during our sophomore year and dated until graduation. Yes, it was love and lots of other things! We're totally committed, and it's awkward living so far apart. We've been relying heavily on our phones, but it's been difficult. Em was totally aware of the local news, and what she hadn't seen on TV I'd managed to relate and clear up. After graduation, I decided to stay in Solace, and Emily needed to return to the Big Apple. You're wondering why. Em has a wonderful mind, full of smarts and bright places that bring so much joy to me and others. She had a gift. She also had a brain tumor that seemed to be under control, but she dealt with occasional severe migraines. Because her family was wealthy, she was in the care of outstanding doctors. Getting started was difficult, and we decided it would be best, for now, to try out our post-graduation potentials and test the real-life waters before moving on. Besides, her parents insisted she come home for more effective medical supervision. And it's also true that I didn't know what they thought of me! We're both excited about seeing each other, and I couldn't wait to be with her!

There didn't seem to be much happening at ground zero, and the crowd was down considerably from yesterday. Hard to believe, considering the intensity and implications of the event. Classes were still on schedule, but I heard that attendance was way down. Who could blame the students? How could anyone concentrate at a time like this? But wherever they all were, only a sprinkling of spectators was on the grass. Perhaps they were at the Student Union's coffee shop or some such place, discussing the matter with fellow students.

I walked down Market Street, my eyes frequently looking up, and was aware that the car that started it all had been towed. That made me wonder how the driver was doing. I hadn't given him a thought since the incident, and I felt wrong about it. I, therefore, decided to go by the police station and inquire about the injured man. The desk sergeant was unhelpful, dismissively explaining that he couldn't give out names and information relating to such matters—especially to nonfamily members. While the exchange was going on between the sergeant and me, a lady officer came out of a back room and glanced at us. It was clear that she remembered me and came over to talk. I explained my visit, and she seemed pleased that I wanted to follow up. She explained my involvement with the accident to the sergeant, which caused him to lighten up.

By the way, I'm Officer Mickie Connors, and if I remember correctly, you're Robert Clay.

She remembered my name! I nodded in agreement.

I'm sure you saw the man in the sky after we left you at the scene. My partner and I were completely unaware. In fact, I suspect you might have been one of the first, considering your proximity to the location.

I told her that I thought I had been the first.

Except for one other person, I said. The driver. That's why he lost control. How's he doing?

Officer Mickie was clearly interested in my account, as was the sergeant.

Regarding the patient, he's not doing too well. He's in a coma, and the doctors aren't sure what to make of it yet, she said.

I again asked his name, and Officer Mickie looked at the sergeant for silent approval, which he gave.

His name is Palmer—Steve Palmer, a local, thirty-four years old.

Officer Mickie and I walked outside together, and she again said that coming to Mr. Palmer's aid was a very noble thing and calling it in so quickly most likely saved his life! She offered to give me a lift, but I thankfully declined. She then gave me her card, saying, If you ever need help!

She smiled, as did I, and I headed home, feeling good.

I walked the eight short blocks to my home, wondering how Mrs. Vander would feel when I told her that Emily was coming to stay for a while. She's a conservative, religious widow who might have trouble permitting sin under her roof! This was Iowa, after all, and little towns here hadn't caught up with the liberal views and lifestyles of the East and West Coasts. I was hoping for some leniency as I unlocked the front door. As I entered the hallway, about to ascend the stairs to my rooms, Mrs. Vander greeted me with a look of concern.

I'm scared, Robert! This is a terrible thing that's happening. All that unearthly commotion about that man-thing, hanging in the sky. I think it's evil—the devil's work! What else could it be? No good could come of it, Robert! What's going to happen?

Mrs. Vander, I don't think it's evil, as you say. No one really knows what it is. It might turn out to be a good thing. We just need time to study it—without panic. Maybe we're being taught something, and your faith will keep you strong! Be positive.

Maybe you're right. I'm so glad you're here! Sometimes I feel very alone, with Larry gone.

I'll do my best to reassure you, Mrs. Vander. Don't worry.

Oh, please call me Rose. You're always so formal. I've asked you a hundred times. Won't you call me Rose?

Very well—Rose it is! And while we're chatting, Rose, I have a request to make—an announcement, actually. My girlfriend, Emily—you've met her—is coming to visit from New York, in two days. I'm wondering if you would allow her to stay with me for a while. I don't know yet how long she's staying, but it would be so much nicer than having her stay in a hotel. We'll happily pay additional rent.

I wouldn't hear of it! I remember her well—lovely girl—and she's very welcome to stay.

With a smile and a thank you, I went upstairs to make a call.

Whitaker here was the voice on the other end. He always answered like that at home. The office was another matter, a bit more formal. He and his wife, Grace, were entertaining two friends, and he asked if I could meet him at his office at nine in the morning so we could properly catch up on the past two days. After that short talk, I intended to call Emily, but the pace and stress of the past two days, about which I was in total denial, suddenly drained my body like a discharged battery. I managed to find my bed, and it was lights out!

Day 3

Friday, May 5

There was a dream I was forced to suffer through. I found myself entangled in a grotesque setting—totally science fiction—where huge, pulsating, slimy eggs were hanging from above, about to hatch! And I was somehow attached to the slippery mess, unable to break free and unable to scream out my deepest fears! I awoke, twisted in my blanket, not in green slime but soaked in a cold sweat! It took me a while to assemble my thoughts and know for sure that I was given another chance at life. I looked at the clock on the stand beside me; it was 6:30 a.m. I needed to clean up and find dry clothes so I could look somewhat presentable at the school. Laundry, ironing—all that. It seems there's never enough time to do all of that. So clothes become a challenge!

After a shower and a humble dress-up, I began to feel hungry. I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, so I decided to head out to the Student Union and grab a quick bite before heading to room 207, Dr. Rik's office. I quickly walked the three-quarter-mile distance to the campus and made my way to the MITS area. I looked up, and there he was, still dangling, still naked, still a mystery, and still waiting to tell us something! When I allowed it to sink in, it was intense! It's almost as if I didn't want to deal with it. I've been so close to it, in my own way, and yet I couldn't allow myself to feel it. But I was still hungry, and I decided that that needed to be taken care of first.

I entered the Union, one of the newer buildings on campus, and saw some familiar faces among the staff. Most students come and go, though some linger on for one reason or another. Look at me! Though I was not a student any longer, I sure felt as though I belonged. Several folks waved hello, at me and I reciprocated. I had a flash of that old TV show and heard, Where everybody knows your name… It really is true: It makes you feel good to be known, wanted—recognized—even if in just a superficial way. Everyone wants to be loved, even if it's at a distance. So what would it be this morning? Eggs 'n' hash with toast and coffee. Life was good!

After breakfast, I felt better. I walked across the grass toward the school building and again had to look up at the hanging man. It was strange to see him, motionless, pale actually, challenging the officials below to the limit. What could they possibly do? More individuals had come to join in, and quite a few people were sitting, standing, and even lying on the grass, staring and working their brains with analyses and theories to put meaning to this being. I felt that, somehow, he was almost like a billboard that was too far away to be read—an image, which, if seen up close, would reveal with clarity the substance of the message. Yet as we drive along, we sometimes look up and just keep on driving, giving that object no second thought. I wondered what would happen if MITS remained there for a month, a year, many years. Would anyone still look up, or would he simply not matter any longer? No. I simply couldn't imagine that.

In the school building, I climbed the stairs to the second floor and made my way to room 207. There at his desk sat Rik. He got up when he saw me and came over to give me a hug with a cheerful smile. Well, there's something powerful in knowing what's on everyone's mind! he started out. Can I guess what's on yours?

You'd probably be right about most of it, but my cup runneth over these days.

Would you like to share?

So I took the opportunity to tell him just about everything that happened to me since the morning that his fence was the only thing on my mind. I told him about the accident, my sighting of the hanging man, my realization that it was the driver of the car who saw him first, my visit to the police station, my talk with Rose Vander, and, of course, the expected arrival of Emily.

Busy life, my friend. But let me lighten the load for you. Forget about the fence, at least for now. We've all got other things on our minds right now. But come take a little walk with me to the top floor. My colleague, Professor Hines, is awaiting us and wants to show us something.

We took the stairs up to the fifth floor, and then another short set of stairs into the area marked Observatory, located near the center of the building. We went through the old wooden door and found Professor Hines tinkering with an old telescope.

Gentlemen, he said in greeting, allow me to introduce you to a lost relic! Our dormant telescope, once the pride and joy of Rimmerton. Somewhat in disrepair due mainly to neglect. But it does have promise.

Malcolm, you remember Robert Clay. He graduated two years ago and was my student and friend—still is!

Of course, I remember Robert, he said, smiling. You're the one who kept breaking my test tubes!

Guilty, sir! I admitted, smiling as well.

So what's up, Malcolm? What do you have for us? Hopefully not merely an old dysfunctional telescope.

No disrespect, but the boys in blue seem to be at a loss as to what to do about our friend MITS. There's been no contact with him, no sign of any response, and I fear to think what will happen if no progress is made toward some meaningful engagement with this thing from outer space. I call it that because it might as well be a UFO. By all accounts, we've never had any substantial verification of any reports—at least that we know of. But here we have a real USO—unidentified suspended object—right before our eyes. No one can deny it. We may not know who or what it is or where it came from, what it wants, or obviously how it does that hanging thing. He, MITS, is an outlaw!

What do you mean by that? I asked. An outlaw?

You're familiar with the laws of physics, such as Newton's laws of motion. There are, in the scientific community, established laws that we all adhere to. Yes, it's true, that we're learning new things almost every day and the rules—the laws—can change as we go, but for the time being, I can tell you that MITS is breaking at least one of those laws. He is an outlaw, and as such, the scientific world is going to tear this scene apart. As will the FBI, CIA, NSA, and every other governmental agency that, for whatever ‘noble' pursuit, will have an interest in subduing this ‘threat'!

But how could he be viewed as a threat? He's done nothing. He's docile and totally nonaggressive! I said.

Rik offered, There's also the need to explain what we have here. Science surely wants to know what it is and how it does its thing. Remember Wordsworth: We murder to dissect.

If there's anything I've learned, I added, it's that if the rational mind can't come up with an answer, it will try to save face and invent one.

Well then, my friends, why don't we try and save the day. What's with the antique telescope? Rik put in.

I'm not at all sure that it will work, but it can't be as useless as the ladder attempt with the bullhorn. We know from the range finder that MITS is approximately 146 feet, or 44 meters, above the terrain. Here at the observatory, we are about 50 feet, or 15 meters, up. That's roughly one-third the height of the subject—not especially helpful, but possibly good enough to get some physical impressions. In addition, we might be able to detect some movement, such as breathing, to determine if he is indeed alive. I haven't heard that they've managed to use infrared energy to verify that we're dealing with a living organism, but something tells me that a helicopter is about to come on the scene. They're running out of options. I'm personally thinking about sending a drone up to get a closer look and take pictures. I don't think they'll like that—my stealing their thunder. So what do you think?

Will the telescope work? I asked.

I haven't had a chance to try it. The problem is the dome rotator. It's jammed, and the motor is useless as it is. But we might be able to pry the gears with a crowbar. It's worth a try.

Professor Hines walked across the room and picked up a three-foot-long iron bar and proceeded to slip it into the rotator gears at the foot of the dome, which was about twenty feet in diameter. He gave it his full effort without success. I decided to lend a hand and, together, with maximum effort, got the gears to turn. Luckily, the dome was almost in the required position for the procedure, approximately north. With some effort, we managed to slide open the slit, which allowed the telescope to look out of the dome. The angle was just a little off, and so the dome would have to be moved clockwise for another few degrees. Again, together we managed to move the gears enough to give a direct view of MITS, though he was very far above us. But that's what the telescope was for.

Professor Hines positioned the scope near the slot in the dome as Rik and I watched. He began making numerous adjustments in order to aim the device upward in line with MITS, then brought it back to a horizontal position to make further adjustments. He was testing the scope's ability to focus on nearby objects. He had cleaned the lenses before we joined him, and he seemed satisfied that, even with the lack of recent use, the instrument should perform as expected. Hines explained what Rik already knew, that the observatory had been abandoned almost twenty years earlier because of a lack of interest and most likely a lack of funding which is almost always the case in private institutions.

After a time, Professor Hines gave us the thumbs-up sign and excitedly announced, I think we're ready! Keep your digits crossed! Then he again tilted the telescope upward, in line with the dangling subject, and adjusted the lens. Rik and I were equally excited about this new attempt to evaluate our visitor—the outlaw!

"I've got him! It's a bad angle, but we're close enough to determine something."

He gave us each a quick look—first Rik, then me. All Rik could say was My god, he's naked! We all laughed.

It's hard to see much from this angle. Can't see his face, and I detect no movement, Hines said, taking another look. Then it was my turn. It was breath-taking, invading someone's (or something's) private space. It was like one of those nature photographers, stalking with intense patience, some wild animal in their secret, private habitat. It felt as though we were violating his inner space, somehow an unethical practice. But I guess it needed to be done. He was, after all, in our space too. It still felt wrong, no matter how we rationalized it.

So what do you think, Bob, Rik's voice interrupted.

I think I could look at him for hours! He's beautiful! Did you notice how perfect he looks—his form, his skin color and texture. Even though I can't see his face, I think he's beyond human!

I also noticed that but didn't want to say it out loud. It sounds unscientific! But yes, I agree. It makes me want to get closer—with my drone!

I don't disagree with anything you said, Bob, and all of it makes me terribly afraid for him! Rik looked and sounded very troubled.

It was around 1:00 p.m. when we finished in the dome. Rik asked Professor Hines if he wanted to join us for lunch, but he had other plans. He wanted to prepare his drone for an early morning flyby of MITS. Rik and I decided to go to the Student Union for a quick meal and to talk.

We both stood on the meadow, looking at our mystery man, the outlaw, with a new sense of familiarity, after having gotten closer than all others. We grabbed a quiet table after going through the food line.

This is going to be a very significant year. Can't help but wonder what the next months will bring, Rik began. You know, Bob, there's actually very little we can do to protect our man or to influence the outcome of this. I'm leaning very heavily toward the theme of innocence. He's childlike. And we're supposed to protect the innocent, for Christ's sake!

To that point, they killed Jesus! But that's another story, I added.

Perhaps I'm a little paranoid, but I have a silent fear about the relationship of money and power, and in keeping with our theme of innocence, power doesn't want a martyr! They're going to want to end this in the dark!

Just then, a familiar man came to our table. I knew him well, the president of Rimmerton College.

Good day, Dr. Albright. Checking out the estate? Rik said lightheartedly. I believe you know Robert Clay?

Of course, I do—one of our finest! he said with a disapproving smirk. Going for another degree, Clay?

Albright didn't