The crew of the Manessa Kwi, without Ilika, settled into their daily routine of watching, listening, and asking questions. Kibi was sorely tempted to go visit Ilika, and Boro added his vote when he heard that their captain was probably fishing on a river. Sata found her courage, as the mission leader, and reminded them all that he would be back in less than a week. Rini pointed out that he had been with them for more than a year, and probably needed a vacation. Mati nodded. Kibi and Boro frowned, but soon accepted the situation with reluctant sighs.
But as the week wore on, all five crew members moved closer and closer to the same conclusion — the questions they were asking, about important people or things that might need their help, were getting them nowhere. They had no idea how to get the people of this planet to help them discover the object of their mission.
Sister Sarah easily found the crew by the telepathic activity between Mati and Rini. Even though they were getting good at shielding their thoughts when they were aware of the need, like when Sarah or Rachael was present and they wanted to share an intimate thought, they tended to forget when they were alone.
When Sarah approached the small covered picnic area, deep in the woods and rarely used by visitors, Kibi lay on the table gazing upward, Boro and Sata sat on a bench chatting, Rini was in a tree, and Mati lay on her belly watching
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some insects.
“. . . but if we don’t ask questions,” Boro was saying, “how will we know when our mission person . . . thing . . . whatever . . . gets here? I don’t think we’ll know just by looking at them . . . it . . . will we?”
“I don’t know!” Sata said with frustration. “We’re supposed to be in the right place . . .”
“Hi, guys!” Sarah said, strolling into the picnic area.
Rini dropped from a tree branch, Mati hopped up, and everyone gathered around.
“You are invited to eat lunch with us, and the new members will be there, including Liberty, that tall girl you met.”
Kibi swallowed, but didn’t let anything show on her face.
“That’ll be nice,” Sata said. “We could use a change. We have no idea what we’re supposed to do next.”
“I haven’t heard of anything . . . or anybody. But I’ll keep looking and listening!”
“Thanks,” Kibi said. “We should probably head for the ship and get cleaned up. It’ll be good for us to not think about the mission for the rest of the day.”
The two hundred or so Lyceum members currently on the campus ate their meals, when not on duty anywhere, in a section of the cafeteria separated from the public area by a low wall of planters. The Nebador crew joined Rebecca, Jacob, Rachael, and Sarah at a table where seats had been reserved.
Soon, carts came rolling out of the kitchen laden with pitchers of drink and serving dishes of food. Although nothing like the banquet they had attended a week before, all the crew members enjoyed trying a little bit of everything.
Once the members and guests had served themselves, Brother Randy stood. “As the coordinator of the last evaluation group, it is my honor to present to you, Sister Ashley!”
The twelve-year-old gymnast turned red, and after nudges from several people around her, managed to stand. The room filled with clapping, and people in the cafeteria craned their necks to see what the excitement was all about.
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“. . . Sister Liberty!”
The tall girl stood and basked in the applause, but those sitting near, including Ashley and Shawn, saw that tears were just about to roll down her cheeks.
“. . . Brother Shawn!”
Although he acted a bit bashful, he was obviously more used to standing up in front of people than the two girls.
“. . . Brother Ilika!”
The crew of the Manessa Kwi knew they had to clap and cheer for Ilika no differently than for all the other new members.
Sarah didn’t notice any difference.
Rachael wasn’t so easily fooled.
“. . . Sister Sapphire!”
Young Ashley Riddle had been a member of Lyceum for exactly forty-five minutes when she poked her head into the hospice center office. No one was inside, so she wandered around the spacious indoor patio and garden, with pools and fountains, lawns and carpets, benches and tables, all ringed by twenty apartments. Overhead, curving wooden beams held up a white dome pierced by six skylights.
Beside one of the pools in the garden, an elderly lady tossed bits of fish food onto the water. Then she would stop, consider a thought, and write something down in a notebook at her side. In another part of the patio, a man worked at an easel. He was not very old, perhaps fifty, but every so often he would twitch and shudder with a painful spasm. Then he would return to his painting for a few moments.
A large man backed out of one of the apartments.
“Thank you again, Clyde,” an elderly male voice came from within. “I sure am sorry to have to bother you like this.”
“No problem,” the large man said. “That’s why I’m here. Do you feel up to teaching your class this evening?”
“I wouldn’t miss it even if I had to take a bed pan with me!” the voice said.
The large man chuckled. “That’s the spirit! I’ll see you there!”
Then he turned. “Greetings, Sister . . . Ashley?”
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She
nodded.
“I see purpose in your eyes. Let’s go into the office.” He washed his hands at a sink, then led the way and sat down at the desk.
Ashley, with her heart in her throat, described her friend Jenny, dying of cancer but hearing music, especially when she looked up at the stars, and trying desperately, with nothing but a cheap penny whistle, to play it.
Brother Clyde listened with keen interest. When she finished, he thought for a moment.
“I need to speak very honestly, Ashley,” he said. “The important question we have to ask is whether this ten-year-old girl truly has something of great value to leave to the future. Most ten-year-olds have not accumulated much knowledge or wisdom. People die all the time — even ten-year-olds. We don’t have the space or resources here at Lyceum for all of them.”
He paused to let his words soak in. Ashley nodded.
“But as I understand it,” Brother Clyde went on, “your friend has a special gift, something that she did not acquire over a lifetime of experience, but rather is receiving directly from some external source.”
“Right,” Ashley confirmed.
“The question is, how do we determine the quality of the music your friend is hearing and is trying to play? A variation on Suzie Had A Little Dog would be of little worth to the future.”
Ashley swallowed and gathered her courage. “I’ve heard it. Not all of it, and not all of the voices together, because there’s no way she could play them all at once. But I’ve heard three of them, and some of the fourth.”
She glanced at the large adult, and realized what he needed to hear. “My parents play classical music at home all the time, and I dance to some of the best music in the world in my gymnastics floor routines. I’ve watched gymnasts and ballet dancers and ice skaters all my life. I know what great music is. Jenny’s song is like that. It’s not a little kid’s tune. It’s more than half an hour long, and it’s deep and mysterious and wonderful. I wish I had recorded some of it, because it would make you cry, it’s so beautiful, even just on a little penny whistle.”
Ashley figured she had said all she could. She closed her eyes, fearing the man would now do what she had seen adults do many times — toss away the
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concerns and accomplishments of the young as unimportant.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s what we have to go on. You’re a Lyceum member, you know music, and you judge the quality of the music that is being composed or transcribed by your friend to be comparable to the great music that has withstood the test of time. It sounds like we had better get moving on this.”
Ashley’s eyes snapped open. “You mean . . . she can come?”
Brother Clyde smiled. “It was you who made that decision, Ashley. Are you still comfortable with it?”
“Yes . . . I’m just . . . very happy!”
“Okay,” Clyde began with a serious tone, “we have much to do.” He began tapping at his computer. “I see that you have some classes already arranged.
Clear your schedule, as you’re now on a special project for the hospice center.
Then call the nursing home and get an update on your friend’s condition.”
Ashley, her mind racing, grabbed a piece of scratch paper and began making a list.
“And I see that we have a non-resident member in that area. She can probably help deal with Jenny’s parents. We need to find out if they’re open to a benefactor situation to upgrade their daughter’s care. You’re the benefactor, champion athlete’s home town, you know. You work on all that while I go check on the residents.”
Ashley, sweating and shaking nervously, took half an hour to figure out how to send messages to the gymnastics coach, the history teacher, and the kitchen coordinator, as she was supposed to wash dishes that evening.
Brother Clyde stopped by the office to see how she was doing, but said nothing and went out again.
Another half hour allowed Ashley to find the nursing home’s number and make the call.
“Black Hills Convalescent Center . . .” a familiar voice answered.
“Hello, Mrs. Miller. This is Ashley Riddle. I just called to see how Jenny was doing.”
“Not so good, Ashley. Her lungs aren’t as strong as they used to be, and she’s starting to have trouble playing her little tunes. She’s working on a letter
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to you, but it goes slowly. Would you like to talk to her?”
“Um . . . not right now. I have to do something else, but please tell her I called, and I’ll call again tonight or tomorrow.”
“Okay, Honey. You take care.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Miller.”
Ashley put down the phone and let herself silently cry, until Brother Clyde appeared again. She quickly grabbed a tissue, dried her eyes, and related Jenny’s condition.
“This is more urgent than I thought,” he said. “Here’s the non-resident member’s contact info. You make the call, tell her everything you know, and I’ll listen. She’s probably at work, so you’ll have video.”
With shaking fingers, Ashley made the call. Suddenly there was recognition on both sides of the connection.
“Hello, Ashley. I’m very happy to hear that you became a member of Lyceum,” the image on the screen said. “I’ll never forget the many times I’ve seen you sitting on the floor searching through the gymnastics books.”
“Mrs. Pearson! I thought you were the children’s librarian!”
“Well,
I
am the children’s librarian. I’ve also been a member of Lyceum for almost ten years, so you can call me Sister Laura.”
Feeling a new sense of urgency, Ashley quickly told Laura all about Jenny, then added some new information that Brother Clyde had not yet heard. “She only has a mom, who rarely visits her in the nursing home. Her mom’s . . .
kind of . . . a simple person. I bet she won’t let Jenny come here unless there’s something in it for her.”
“I see,” Sister Laura said thoughtfully.
“If you want to talk to her, you’ll probably have to buy her a meal or something.”
“Hmm. Thank you for the tip, Ashley.”
“And I don’t think she has a phone. You’ll have to call her neighbor, Susan Jones.”
“Okay. I’m glad to know what I’m up against. I’ll call you back in an hour or less.”
The screen went blank, and while they waited, Brother Clyde told Ashley about the music studio at Lyceum, and how it could help Jenny to write and
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perform her music. Only about twenty minutes later, Sister Laura called back.
“Your assessment was correct, Ashley. She was extremely suspicious until I offered her a free steak dinner. She’ll meet with me this evening, and I have a hunch she’ll be open to the plan as long as it doesn’t cost her anything.”
“Thank you, Mrs. . . . I mean, Sister Laura. Brother Clyde’s here helping me. We’ll talk to you soon!”
“Bye,
Ashley!”
“Now I think I see the situation a little more clearly,” Clyde said. “Mom is gonna want a piece of the action. We’ll have to be careful with this one. Sister Laura could use some help. Why don’t you fly out tonight, Ashley. Take a portfolio with you, lots of pictures, a number of Lyceum vouchers, and a complete hospice program kit. Include a deluxe library case for a music disc.
That ought to be inspiring to the girl, at least. I’ll help you get it all ready.”
Ashley’s head was spinning as she experienced first hand how quickly Lyceum could go into action. She was trying to stay calm, but the part about flying home that night to help Sister Laura was almost beyond her belief.
The next hour was very busy for Lyceum’s second-youngest member.
Brother Clyde put together the portfolio while Ashley packed several changes of nice clothes. When she returned to the office, Clyde steered her to the travel desk in the main office, where she received a ticket for a flight at eight o’clock and some cash. She called her mother, who was thrilled, and promised to meet Ashley at the airport.
Before Ashley realized it, the normal dinner hour had passed. At a lone table, with members mopping the floor all around them, she and Clyde ate left-overs and talked about what Jenny’s mother might want out of the deal, and how far Lyceum was willing to go. Ashley took notes, and by the time she swallowed her last bite, felt she understood the limits. Finally, Clyde gave her an envelope full of permission forms for Jenny’s mother to sign.
With travel bag and portfolio in hand, Ashley dashed toward the Lost Forest Heliport, where a gleaming helicopter was warming up its engines to whisk her and about a dozen other people to the international airport.
As she dashed along the glass-walled corridor, she passed the group of five guests who didn’t speak the language well, all looking rather bored. She
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smiled at them, but didn’t have a free hand to wave, or time to stop and talk.
As Ashley, last of all, stepped onto the helicopter and found a seat, she suddenly felt a part of something much bigger than herself, something she didn’t fully understand, something that seemed to have taken on a life of its own.