After a leisurely breakfast the next morning, Sister Sheena, a large lady of about fifty, led them toward the research center.
“I understand today is Recovery Day,” she said to the group as they walked along.
“Yesterday was very trying,” Dario said. “Up at three, garden clean-up project, and all those tests!”
“Yes,” Sheena agreed. “We put the tough stuff early in the week so the group would have less . . . how do I say this? . . . excess baggage when the more interesting stuff rolled around. You’re down to six, I see.”
“You mean it’s easier from here?” Sapphire asked with relief.
“I think most people would agree with that. But there’s still another project coming up, and role plays can be tough. Also, I don’t know anyone who likes self-evaluations and final interviews, but they’re necessary.”
They arrived at the planetarium theater and entered the circular space with its dark blue carpeting and reclining seats. As they leaned back, each person had a clear view of the entire display dome over their heads, currently aglow with a pleasing mixture of pastel colors.
“As you can see,” Sister Sheena said, closing the entry doors, “this is a private showing. The place will be buzzing with college kids at ten o’clock, so we have to be out by then. Preliminary questions?”
“Are you a scientist?” Ashley asked.
“Yes. My degree is in physics, but you can just as easily find me in the
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astronomy lab. My current research is aimed at looking for fractal patterns in the distribution of galaxies. I call it, informally, God’s Wallpaper.”
Everyone
chuckled.
“Do all members have access to the laboratories?” Shawn asked.
“Yes. Whenever I have free time, you’ll usually find me in one of the labs, as opposed to a tavern or a shopping mall.”
Several laughed deeply.
“Okay, let’s view the program I’ve picked out for you. It’s fairly light and simple, but will show you what the theater can do. A Nova 200 coordinates the data feeds to eight frontal, four rear, and three holographic projectors, as well as a multi-channel sound system and environmental controls that can do everything from simulate a mild earthquake to blow a warm, floral scented tropical breeze in your faces.
“Also, you will glimpse many concepts from the realms of physics, astronomy, chemistry, even biology. Some of my fractal work in physics is in there.
“Finally, and most importantly, it will give you a sense of Lyceum’s mission of integrating the essential truth-seeking institutions of our world —
in other words, science that leaves room for God . . . or is it religion that leaves room for logic?”
With those words, the lights dimmed and the evaluation group found themselves witnessing scenes that few of them had ever imagined, beginning with the sub-atomic energy particles assembling themselves into the atoms of matter, and those becoming the molecules of the physical and biological world. All these things even Ashley knew from school, in an abstract sense, but here they were happening in mid-air, before her eyes, so close she could reach out and touch them. Of the three youth, only Liberty had seen a presentation of similar quality.
But unlike their school science lessons, the program produced at Lyceum showed several possible explanations for those parts of the process that were poorly understood, including the gods and angels themselves planning and initiating the molecular patterns.
Next, they witnessed the formation of the stars and galaxies, and saw the beautiful patterns that just might be the signatures of their creators.
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Watching closely, they found the same signatures in flowers and seashells, pine cones and crystals, microbes and atoms.
Several people asked questions about the show, some technical and some philosophical. Shawn was listening with part of his mind, but his heart was still marveling at the sheer beauty of God’s creation, and feeling a twinge of anger that he had been guided away from it all his life.
At the group’s request, Sister Sheena ran another program that was pure entertainment, with all manner of fantasy creatures frolicking and dancing to music. Ashley found herself almost standing up when a dancing, grinning wood sprite reached out a hand in her direction.
As ten o’clock approached, they vacated the planetarium theater just as the college students came striding down the corridor. Sister Sheena steered the evaluation group into a nearby classroom. Shawn wandered around, looking at charts on the walls, supplies for simple experiments, and interesting models. Then he remembered, with resentment, the letter from his father to his school that had exempted him from his high school science classes . . . on religious grounds.
“Scientific research at Lyceum happens on many different levels,” Sister Sheena began after everyone had settled into chairs, “and in many fields. As we discussed earlier, members have just about unlimited access. Other individuals who just want to try out an idea, do a little experiment, tinker a bit, are always welcome, as long as the facilities have not been reserved for more formal activities. Schools make constant use of the facilities and resources for educational purposes. We had pre-schoolers in the chemistry lab yesterday, and I’m working with graduate students tomorrow.”
Ashley smiled at the thought of toddlers with test tubes.
Shawn’s concern continued to form in his mind. He wanted . . . no, he needed to know God’s universe as it had been handed to humanity, and to no longer avoid it just because it was not, in itself, spiritual.
“And more and more,” Sister Sheena was saying, “we’re finding that prominent scientists choose to come to Lyceum so they can be near places of inspiration — our many lounges, shrines, chapels, gardens, nature trails . . .
some even go over to the petting zoo and talk to the animals when they need a
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break.”
All six candidates chuckled.
A picture was starting to form for Shawn, an image of himself working in the labs, assisting the scientists in their research, and maybe even doing experiments and demonstrations for school children. A smile began to brighten his face.
Five Nebador people and three Lyceum members sat in the conference room near Lost Forest Heliport Pad Three. Sister Rebecca wore a very serious frown.
“I know I can trust Rachael with this matter,” she began. “I’m wondering if you, young lady, have the wisdom to handle a situation that could get many people killed, and possibly destroy Lyceum completely, if it got out . . . to anyone . . . ever.”
Nine-year-old Sarah swallowed. She was pretty sure she had guessed half, maybe three-quarters of the secret Sister Rebecca was talking about. Since she was a member of a respected international service organization that hosted world leaders and world-class events all the time, she usually thought of herself as pretty grown up. Now, hearing the consequences if she, or anyone else, let the secret slip out, she felt about nine years old again.
She looked into Rebecca’s eyes, then Rachael’s. “I . . . um . . . want to be grown up enough. I really . . . like these people . . . and want to help . . .
however I can. I know they’re looking for something, but don’t know what . . .
or who. I could . . . stay near Rachael . . . for as long as you want . . . so she’d know if I . . . screwed up. But I won’t screw up. I promise.”
After a long silence, Rachael spoke. “I believe she can do it. The bond she is forming with our visitors will be her motivation. And if she ever violates this trust . . .” Rachael fell silent and looked at Sarah.
Sarah’s eyes grew wide and she began to tremble. No one else ever knew what thoughts passed between them in those moments, but eventually Sarah relaxed, blinked some tears out of her eyes, and smiled.
Rachael smiled back. “All is well.”
“So, I guess it’s up to you, Sata,” Sister Rebecca said.
Sata looked at Kibi and spoke in the language of Nebador. “I’m tempted to
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trust them. The risk is mostly theirs.”
Kibi nodded. “We’re not having much luck with the mission, and neither is . . . anyone else. This might be just the help we need.”
“I don’t know if it’ll help us find what we’re looking for,” Boro began, “but I agree it’s their risk, as long as we always wear mission bracelets.”
Sata looked at Rini.
“Arantiloria gave us a real puzzle, something very mysterious that we’re not going to figure out if we turn down any help, or avoid following any clue.”
Mati nodded. “Remember, Sata, you have the final say.”
Sata frowned at her, but Mati just smiled back. Then Sata took some slow breaths to give time for Arantiloria, Melorania, or anyone else to speak who knew more about these things than a twelve-year-old innkeeper’s daughter.
Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke in the local language. “We noticed in your shrines and chapels that you have many different names for the people who run the universe. You call them gods, angels, and other things I don’t remember. You think they look like you, maybe with bird wings or insect wings added. But they don’t. They can look like anything they want.
We know because we talk with them almost every day, sit in classes they teach, and do our best to carry out their missions.
“Sarah has already figured out that we’re looking for something. What she, and all of you, have to understand is that we’re looking for the most important thing on your planet right now. It’s so important that the entire universe is waiting for us to find it . . .”