Also by J. Z. Colby:
Ariel’s Grove
Standing on Your Own Two Feet:
Young Adults Surviving 2012 and Beyond
Book Two of J. Z. Colby’s original Lyceum story
by
J. Z. Colby
Copyright © 1995 by J. Z. Colby
All rights reserved, but freely distributable as this PDF file with attribution, without charge, in its entirety Cover art by J. Z. Colby
LYCEUM2EA23: Adobe Portable Document Format (PDF), 8.25” x 11” (printable on letter or A4 paper), 326 total pages, medium print (12-point Georgia type) This special PDF edition has no ISBN.
For “Liberty”
who loved horses almost as much as boys.
For “Ashley”
whose landings were as light as a feather, but who never found the training she wanted.
For “Shawn”
who was born in the wrong century,
and whose love for Sarah was never known.
For “Sarah”
who took refuge in her music
for as long as she could.
Contents
1 Jumping in with Both Feet................................................ 1
2 The Passing of a Great Lady ............................................25
3 Getting
Started ................................................................ 37
4 Not as Easy as it Looks .................................................... 53
5 An Unexpected Trip.........................................................69
6 Decisions and Discoveries ...............................................82
7 A New Angle on an Old Problem.....................................92
8 Hope Where There was None........................................ 104
9 Farewell to Rapid City ....................................................114
10 One-Way Journey to a New Realm ............................... 129
11 A Momentous Summer Draws to a Close ......................141
12 Seventeen Million People .............................................. 154
13 One Boy.......................................................................... 169
14 Good Friends and a Valuable Cargo.............................. 183
15 Ascending to New Heights ............................................ 197
16 The New Arrival.............................................................220
17 A Wild Goose Chase in the Dark ................................... 227
18 Plans and Preparations ................................................. 241
19 Chasing World-Class Gold ............................................263
20 The Greatest Gift ........................................................... 273
21 Approaching Holidays ...................................................285
22 The Time of the Stable................................................... 301
“I’ll work as fast as I can on my music, even at night if I have to, but I don’t want to be ugly when I die.”
— Jenny
Chapter 1: Jumping in with Both Feet
On the afternoon of her acceptance to Lyceum, one very happy and proud fifteen-year-old was walking back toward the Main Lobby from a picnic table where she had been going through the New Member’s Handbook with her contact person.
“Nancy,” Liberty said, “will you be my mentor?”
“Wow... I’m very honored that you’re asking, Liberty. But you know, you can take your time making that decision.”
“I know. But I’m sure I want you to be my mentor, so I don’t see any point in putting it off.”
“Well, I am available, and we do have a lot in common. Let’s say tentatively yes, and if you still feel good about the idea in a few weeks, we’ll make it official.”
“Okay. Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome! Actually, I think it will be good for both of us.”
They entered the Main Lobby, where about fifty people were lounging or peering at the art works.
“When can I start my classes and work?” Liberty asked.
“Relax! You just finished one of the most intense weeks of your life, in case you don’t remember!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just want to make sure I take care of my responsibilities. And I really do like going to school — as long as it isn’t too boring.”
Nancy chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll have that problem here. Anyway, Brother Don won’t have your class and work schedule for next week until Friday.” They entered the Main Office. “And you won’t be able to start some of your classes until September, maybe even October if they’re on a quarterly cycle.”
“Oh, I hope I don’t have to wait that long to start the piloting class!”
“That one is very special to you, isn’t it? Let’s take a look.” The tall lady sat down at a computer console. “Pilot training... the teacher is Sister Erica...”
“I’ve met her! She was co-pilot on the flight that brought us here!”
“That’s right! The class meets... oh, boy, it’s an intensive one. Tuesdays from one to four in the afternoon. And it says new students can join at any time...”
“Oh, please, can I start tomorrow?”
“Well, I don’t suppose that’ll be too much of a load for you. Your test scores take care of the prerequisites. Why not? I’ll put you on the class list.”
Liberty smiled at the lady she had quickly grown to admire and trust more than anyone else in the world... with the possible exception of her father. She wasn’t sure which made her happier, being allowed to start the pilot training class, or knowing that Sister Nancy would be her mentor.
Ashley was loading dishes onto the same cart as Brother Paul at the conclusion of her first meal as a member of Lyceum.
“Hi!” she said.
“I owe you some information, don’t I?”
“You do?” she said, confused.
“I promised to tell you the results of last December’s evaluation week.”
“Oh, yeah. You don’t have to... I was just curious.”
“I trust you’ll treat the information wisely...?”
Ashley knew that wisdom was not a quality usually associated with twelve-year-old girls. She also knew that it was an expectation of all Lyceum members. “Yes... I will.”
Ashley pushed the cart toward the dish room, while Paul carried a tub of dishes that wouldn’t fit.
“Four persons were offered membership. One changed his mind and
declined, so that leaves three. Two joined but stayed non-resident, and the other is resident.”
“Sister
Jennifer.”
“Right. Two others were offered a mentored preparation time, but only one accepted... you.”
Together they scraped food scraps and trash into the appropriate barrels and buckets, stacking the dirty plates on the counter where other members were putting them into racks for the trip through the dish machine.
“So that group only had a score of three... and a half!” she said, pointing to herself. They both laughed.
After chores, Ashley rejoined Sister Heather in the office to continue her orientation process.
“I just got a note from Sister Lydia,” Heather began as they sat down.
“We’ve got three hundred and fifty people coming in for a funeral next weekend, and with other reservations, the Lodge is going to be packed. So she’s trying to free up as many rooms as possible for walk-in guests. She’d like you to move in with Tabitha by Thursday, get a cot and whatever else you need out of Stores, and then you can move into your own room on Monday or Tuesday of next week. This kind of thing happens once in awhile. I’ve already asked Tabitha, and it’s perfectly okay with her.”
“Sure!” Ashley said. “Sounds like fun.”
“You don’t need to even think about classes or work until next week. Just get settled, be helpful if anything comes up...”
“What about gymnastics?” Ashley asked with noticeable concern in her voice.
Heather smiled. “Oh, yes. Gymnastics. Let’s see when you can start.
Have you ever used the General Knowledge Processor?”
“Yes. My friend Julie was teaching me. I only know the basics.”
“Good. You take the keyboard. Select Education... good. Then use a key word... yes, ‘gym’ is a good choice. There’s the class list... let me see... those first five are the gymnastics camps... next come the public classes... here we are, Gymnastics 8-9-10, members. Select it and press the Detail key.”
A new window of information appeared on the display.
“Wow!” Heather exclaimed. “That must be one of the most intensive classes we have! Monday through Friday, two to five. Brother Faelan is the coach. New students any time.”
“That’s just a basic gym schedule. When getting ready for a meet, it can go up to thirty or forty hours a week.”
“Well, well, I didn’t realize it was so time consuming!” Heather said. “Let’s see if we can locate Brother Faelan. Highlight his name and then select Locate.”
A plan of the entire Lyceum campus flashed onto the screen, and a symbol could be seen pulsing in the Asian Garden.
“And over on this side of the display you can see that he’s on free time, able to take calls. Now press Call.”
A few moments later a voice was heard. “Faelan here.”
“Brother Faelan, I hope we’re not interrupting...”
“Not at all — just sprucing up my garden.”
“Young Ashley was accepted this morning, as you know, and would dearly love to start gymnastics soon.”
“Oh, yes. Tabitha and Karen have kept me well informed about Ashley.
Level eight, right?”
Ashley nodded, tense with anticipation.
“That’s right,” Heather said.
“It starts at two o’clock. She’ll have to hurry... that’s only twenty minutes away. Sister Shannon starts them off, and I work with them at three o’clock on their elite skills...”
Ashley didn’t hear the last part of what Brother Faelan said. As soon as Heather gave her leave to depart with a wave of her hand, Ashley scooped up her notebooks and dashed for her Lodge room.
When Ashley arrived at the gym a few minutes before two, her leotard on and her hair band in place, she found Tabitha and Karen already there, goofing around just outside the coach’s office. At that moment Sister Shannon stepped out of the office, a slender lady of about forty.
“Here she is now, girls!” she said, noticing Ashley enter the gym.
The other two young gymnasts looked toward the door and then
immediately surrounded Ashley with a constant whirl of bouncing and chattering.
“Now we’ve got a team of three!” Tabitha said.
“We can do triad choreography patterns!” Karen said.
“Okay, girls, that’s a little too loud. Welcome, Ashley. I’m Shannon.
Faelan just called and said you’d be coming. We want you to spend all of this week getting back in shape after evaluation week, and making sure your compulsory skills are all very solid. Do you think you can hold off on the Tsukaharas and the Comanecis for a week?”
“No problem,” Ashley said. “I spent some time in here yesterday, and I know I’m a little out of shape.”
“Good. Karen, it’s Monday, so do a good, long warm-up.”
“Okay,” she said.
They worked on some small mats off to one side, and Karen’s Monday warm-up lasted nearly half an hour. Most gyms would have considered several of the exercises they did as conditioning, and saved them for the end of the class when no one minded being tired to the point of stumbling.
Ashley handled it well, even though she knew she would have aches and pains for a few days. That, she knew only too well, was an inescapable part of gymnastics.
The warm-up over, Shannon appeared with three cups of fruit juice and a clipboard.
“Here are the level one through seven skill charts, the most comprehensive version we’ve ever found,” she said, handing Ashley the clipboard with attached pen. “Go through everything, and rate yourself one to ten. Don’t go past level two today.” Then the lady coach turned to Tabitha and Karen and began discussing with them the things they needed to work on during the week.
Ashley sat on the mat alone and studied the first page of level one skills.
She smiled as memories from years ago returned, memories of sore muscles and cracked skin, memories of skills she sometimes couldn’t get right until the coach worked with her to find that one element she had been missing. She set the clipboard aside and got to work. Forward roll, cartwheel, chasse... she did them in every imaginable variation, and gave herself solid tens. Fouette, back
straddle roll, back roll... again tens.
Just as she was moving over to the balance beam, Brother Faelan entered.
“Hello, Ashley! Got your check lists?”
“Yep! It’s almost like being seven years old again!”
“I’ll let you just work with those charts for this week, but I’ll keep an eye on you for anything that I’m not comfortable with. Every coach is a little different, so I’m bound to find things. It won’t mean you’re not a good gymnast. But everyone has room for improvement.”
Ashley smiled. She had taken a gold medal in her state by being completely willing to accept unending constructive criticism and long hours of hard work. She had no fantasies that she could get anywhere in elite, world-class gymnastics without much more of the same.
Brother Faelan went to work with the other two girls, and Ashley selected a balance beam. Arabesque, revele walk, whip to feet, V sit... tens. Scale, body wave, run, hop... more tens. There were elements of Karen’s warm-up that had required more balance than Ashley was using at that moment. She did them all again, with variations, and then moved to the uneven parallel bars.
Back kick over, knee pendulum, cast hip circle. She could clearly remember struggling with them at age seven, until her upper body strength had begun to improve. Swinging pullover, under kip, glide swing. Tens. It would have been so easy to just launch into one of her bar routines, but she resisted the temptation. She could enjoy all her gold medal routines on Friday, she reminded herself.
Brother Faelan appeared.
“Let me see that glide swing again, please Ashley.”
She repeated the skill.
“Smooth, but it lacks something. Control. You look like you’re about to fall off. Try it with slightly bent elbows.”
She
did.
“How did that feel?”
“Better... like my arm muscles were more ready for the next move.”
“Uh huh. You’re probably stretching out like that to compensate for your height. That’s not bad in itself... just so you don’t lose muscle control.”
“Thanks. I’m going to practice it a few times.”
He went back to the others, and she worked on the bars, remembering her beginning class and how three-quarters of the time was spent waiting for her turn on each piece of equipment. As she had climbed through the compulsory levels, the situation had improved, but she had never had such good access to the apparatus of gymnastics as she now enjoyed. And she wasn’t going to let a moment of it go to waste.
As she finished doing everything she could on the bars at levels one and two, the other girls were taking a break and called her over.
“Learn anything new?” Tabitha asked, smiling.
“Actually yes. Discovered I had a little bad habit because I’m so short.”
“You’ll like Coach Faelan. He’s not afraid to tell you about anything he sees.”
“I like that,” Ashley said, polishing off her cup of yogurt. “When’s conditioning?”
“About four thirty,” Karen said. “There’s a campfire at my hall tonight, about nine. Want to come?”
“Sure. I want to work on my computer file after dinner, but I should be done by then.”
“Great. Let’s go back to work!”
Ashley went through the few vaulting skills that were listed, and then ran through all the other level one and two skills again. Her wobble on the balance beam had disappeared, and so she felt good about giving herself solid tens on all the beginning skills.
Brother Faelan led the conditioning, and it was an intense twenty minute workout of push-ups, sit-ups, knee bends, and handstand presses, all separated by running in place. At five o’clock, all three gymnasts were exhausted and sore.
“He’s merciless at conditioning,” Tabitha said in the locker room.
“The price of elite gymnastics,” Karen said.
They all turned on a shower, standing back until the water was warm.
“What happens if we’re on the chore list for setting tables?” Ashley asked.
“We’d be late, wouldn’t we?”
“The computer checks, and doesn’t schedule anyone for before-dinner chores who has a class or anything that ends right at five,” Karen explained.
The trio headed for the Dining Hall, laughing and looking forward to the following week when Ashley could begin to work with them at elite skill levels.
Shawn spent his first day at Lyceum finishing his computer files and studying his New Member’s Handbook. He felt the need for everything about his membership to be just right, and he wanted to completely understand every facet of his responsibilities and opportunities.
Brother Jacob spent part of the afternoon with him, and arranged for Shawn to join him in his residence hall apartment for the weekend to help out with the impending room shortage.
“Since you’re not starting classes until next week, would you be willing to take an assignment this week, helping Brother Robert plan a funeral?” the bearded man said.
“Gosh... um... me?... um, sure! I even know something about that kind of thing.”
“Good. She was a very sweet lady named Phoebe Hutchinson...”
“Oh, yes. Sarah told me a little about her. She passed away just after I got here.”
“Right. The funeral is this Saturday, and she left a list of three hundred some odd people she wanted us to invite. That’s why the room shortage.
Brother Robert said that if you could do it, meet him in the office at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Wow... my first assignment. I really appreciate you asking me. I’ll be there!”
That evening, Shawn began to wander the corridors and lounges of the Laboratory Complex, looking at the murals and exhibit cases, just to get a feel for the place. He overheard scientists and researchers talking who seemed to allow no place in their work for God, and others who were literally discussing Him as they passed.
After a swim and a soak in the hot pool, where Shawn was welcomed by several other members, he returned to the Lodge room called Redwood. After getting ready for bed and programming the wake-up alarm by the door for six a.m., he stretched out on his bed and opened the little book his grandmother
had given him.
The sincere religionist is conscious of universe citizenship and is aware of making contact with sources of supernal wisdom. He is thrilled and energized with the assurance of belonging to the ennobled fellowship of the sons of God. His consciousness of self-worth has become augmented by the quest for the highest universe goal — supreme values.
Ashley moved in with Tabitha that evening, and they were awake for a long time talking about gymnastics, boys, and other topics of common interest.
Finally they both began yawning, and after Tabitha had crawled into her bed and was breathing softly, Ashley decided she had one more thing to do before another day went by. She crept down to the office of Tabitha’s residence hall and located paper and pen.
July 31st
Dear Tim,
I’m so happy! I found out this morning that I was accepted! I went to the elite gymnastics class for the first time, and I’m going to work on all my compulsories for the whole first week. I start most of my classes and work next week. Everyone here is really nice, but it was scary for the last few days, not knowing if I was going to be accepted.
I still wear my broken coin all the time, except during gymnastics. I’m still glad, even more than ever, that I’m promised to you! My dreams are starting to come true again, beginning with meeting you, and then getting into Lyceum and being able to do gymnastics again. I’ll call in a few days, and you can call me as soon as you get this letter.
I get four weeks of vacation every year, and I want to spend part of it with my parents and friends in Rapid City, and part of it with you.
I love you!
Ashley
The following morning, Shawn arrived at the office at the appointed time.
Brother Li, who was on duty in the Information Center, took him inside and pointed out Brother Robert. The white-haired man was at that moment on the telephone.
“...Yes, that’s right, you understood me correctly... No, I don’t need a block of seats, I need the whole plane... Yes, that’s precisely right, three hundred and fifty seats... No, I don’t have time to send a letter to your manager. I already have two other quotes, and I will be giving confirmation to one of my options this afternoon... Yes, I know it will be expensive. If you can provide what I need at a reasonable cost, I can have a certified check in your possession late this afternoon, and I’m sure the advantage to your company would be worth the footwork of putting together a quote for me... Right, a breakfast flight on Saturday, a dinner flight on Sunday, everything first class...
Yes, I’ll be reachable at this number all day... Thank you very much.”
Shawn had stayed back, not wanting to interrupt. Now he stepped forward and stood beside the desk at which Brother Robert sat.
“Hello. I’m Shawn.”
“Hello, Shawn, hello! Pardon my tedious, and possibly fruitless phone call, but I always like to get three quotes on whatever I’m buying. Two just isn’t enough — far too easy for there to be two places who are both in a rut on price or quality. With a guaranteed full plane, I should be able to get more then twenty percent off the regular ticket price. We’ll see.”
“Brother Jacob said you needed some help...”
“Sure do. Pull up a chair. I’ve got about a million things to do by Saturday. Jacob said you’re both gentle and smart. I’d like you to work on the confirmations, get as many done today as possible. Here’s a copy of the letter and pamphlet about Lyceum that we sent to each party on Mrs. Hutchinson’s list. And here’s the list of names. As you can see, we don’t have a phone number for all of them, so you’ll have to search directories on the Net.”
Shawn read through the letter and pamphlet while Brother Robert worked on his notes.
“It looks like you gave them all the information they need.”
“True, but they’ll ask questions anyway, just to be reassured, especially about what’s being paid for and what’s not. Here’s my page of notes on what
Lyceum is providing.”
Shawn read the sheet. “Looks like everything!”
“It is, but some of them will want more. Use your own judgment, and keep notes on any promises you make. The key points are that they have to confirm to you that they’re coming, and they have to get themselves to and from the airport in Raleigh. I’ll make the first call, and then you can carry on.”
He tapped the first number onto the keypad of his telephone.
“Hello, is this the FitzGerald residence?... My name is Brother Robert, and I’m calling from Lyceum in Oregon. Did you receive your invitation to Mrs.
Phoebe Hutchinson’s funeral?... Good... Yes, she named you in her will to be provided with all means necessary to attend... No, I’m sorry, but it was her wish that the funeral be held here... Yes, plane fare both ways... Yes, lodging and meals also... That’s right, all you and your husband need to do is pack for two days and get to the Raleigh Airport... Yes, we can happily provide meals for a diabetic...”
He made a note about the special diet as he continued to listen.
“...You can either confirm with me now, or with my assistant Brother Shawn at any time through this Friday... Okay, I will put you down as confirmed. Thank you, Mrs. FitzGerald.”
The older man lowered the handset.
“Two down, and I’ve started your list of special promises. Ready to give it a try? You’ll probably do better than me — you’ve still got your Carolina accent.”
“A’m not so sho a’ll dew betta ‘n y’all did, but a’ll dew ma beyest!” he said, exaggerating a little and smiling.
“Just make sure your best stays very, very good, and never let yourself take your frustrations out on the people you are serving. The parties you are calling, even though they are receiving a number of things at no cost, are the people you are serving right now.”
Shawn nodded thoughtfully, then tapped in the second number.
“Hello? Yes, hello?... Yes I can hear you... No, I’m not a salesman, my name is... No sir, that’s not why I called either, I’m Brother Shawn, and, um, I’m at Lyceum in Oregon... no, sir, I’m not soliciting... Mrs. Hutchinson asked
me to call, I mean... yes, Phoebe Hutchinson...”
With practice and pointers from Brother Robert, an hour later Shawn’s calls were going much better. In that first hour he accumulated twenty-two confirmations, eleven tentatives, two negatives, and no answer at four numbers.
“...Yes, ma’am, your first class air fare is paid for, meal flights both ways, and your lodging, receptions, meals, and entertainment at Lyceum are all taken care of... You have a young child?” He glanced at Brother Robert, who nodded. “That’s no problem at all, ma’am. We have childcare and everything else you’ll need, all at no cost to you...”
After a break and a snack at ten o’clock, Brother Robert left to work on other aspects of the funeral preparations. Shawn continued his calls, keeping careful notes of anything unusual. Only once did he feel like he was going out on a limb by telling a man in a wheelchair that he could bring an attendant who wasn’t on the list, but Brother Robert later assured him that he had done the right thing.
The calls continued all during the afternoon, as Shawn knew he could not work after dinner because it would be too late on the east coast. By the end of the day he had made nearly a hundred telephone calls, and had tallied two hundred and thirty-one confirmed, forty-three undecided, and eleven who weren’t coming. He knew he had at least another day of calls ahead of him.
As they walked to dinner, Brother Robert announced that the third quote he had received on the air transport had indeed offered a price thirty-two percent less than regular fares. He had wired the large sum needed to the account of a non-resident member in Raleigh, who had in turn delivered a certified check to the airline office, in exchange for appropriate documents.
The airline had been amazed at the speed with which Lyceum had fulfilled its obligation, and had vowed an impeccable level of service.
Liberty quickly finished her after-lunch chores and excitedly dashed to the Heliport. As she was ten minutes early, not even the teacher had arrived. She stood alone in the lobby, wondering what to do, when she heard footsteps on a stair. Then the door behind the currently unattended information counter
opened. A black-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard emerged.
“Hello... Liberty, isn’t it? Erica and the class should be here soon. With it being right after lunch, they sometimes don’t get started ‘til five after. I’m John Michael. Would you like to see the control room?”
“Um...
sure!”
“Come on up,” he said, re-climbing the steps he had just descended. “I was heading for lunch, but I’m in no hurry. There aren’t any flights in or out for several hours.”
Liberty
followed.
At the top of the stairs they entered the strangely shaped room full of control panels, communications equipment, and three large windows, one looking out over each of the three ports. The port on the left, through which Liberty had entered Lyceum, was currently open to the sky and empty. The one in the middle had its dome-shaped roof closed, but lights were on inside and she could see a small helicopter on the pad — about a four passenger model, she guessed. The one on the right was completely dark.
“What’s in that one?” Liberty asked, pointing to the window on the right.
“We don’t use Port Three right now. We keep spare parts and some machinery and junk in there.”
Liberty turned her attention to the active ports.
“From here we can communicate with our birds, as well as anyone at Lyceum, any other Lyceum vehicle, and of course all the places we regularly land. And we have the equipment to use any other radio frequency in an emergency, but that has to be done carefully, of course. We can also access our SatLink channels if we need to.”
“Wow. All from here?”
“Yes. The person in the control room is nearly as important as the pilot, especially in an emergency. These controls handle the domes, and over here are all the lights. Separate panels on that wall work the lights of our two outdoor landing pads, or they can be triggered remotely by the pilots even if no one is in here.”
“So if a flight came in at night, and all the domes were closed, a pilot could turn on their own lights and land at least somewhere?”
“Right. Then there’s fire suppression equipment here, door locking
controls so people don’t wander onto a pad at the wrong time, and many other little things.”
“When do I get to learn all these controls?” Liberty asked, grinning.
“After you get your pilot’s license. A control room operator needs to intimately understand the needs of the pilot. Let’s go see if your class is ready to start.”
They went back down the stairway, and found the door to a classroom open and the lights on. Inside, Sister Erica and five others were chatting and getting settled.
“See you later,” Brother John Michael said with a warm smile.
Liberty watched him head down the corridor. She had never before taken a fancy to middle-aged men, but the specimen she was currently observing was tempting her to change her habits. A smirk crossed her face, and then she stepped into the classroom.
Liberty could immediately see that the room was dedicated to pilot training, with pictures and charts of all kinds on the walls, books on the shelves, and numerous models on the tables, all pertaining to helicopters specifically and flight in general.
“Welcome, Liberty!” Sister Erica said, and introduced her to the other students.
Liberty had already met the black man named Fred and the redhead named Samantha, but not Tim, Helen, or Larry.
“Well, what are we doing today?” the teacher asked.
“I’m in the simulator with the auto-rotate and engine restart program,”
Fred said.
“I have a training flight,” Helen said.
“You promised us a lecture on storm flying,” Samantha said.
“Okay, I’m going to give Liberty the first hour in the simulator, and we’ll do the storm lecture during that time. Fred, why don’t you use the simulator at three o’clock when I leave with Helen. I’ll review your session later. That way we’re all here for the middle hour, and I need to go over de-fueling and tie-down procedures.”
Sister Erica led Liberty to the simulator. Liberty was expecting a video game, like the ones she had played many times. The little room they entered
indeed had a computer terminal, with several chairs around it, but it turned out to be for the teacher to use, selecting the flight scenario, tailoring it to the difficulty level of the student, and reviewing the results. Only one other door led out of the room, and it was very narrow and looked completely out of place.
“The program you’re doing today is very forgiving. You can’t crash or run out of fuel or any of those gut-wrenching things that you’ll have to deal with later. It will simply introduce you to the basic controls, and let you gently see what they do. Ready?”
“I... I guess. It’ll tell me what I need to know?”
“Yep. Through that little door is the cabin. It’s placed so that you think you’re stepping out of the restroom at the rear of a twelve-seater. It’s so realistic inside you may have trouble remembering you’re in a simulator. This program starts in-flight, but don’t worry, the computer keeps everything nice and stable, and won’t let you do anything dumb.”
“I... guess I’m ready!”
“Go ahead in. I’ll tell the program your name.”
Liberty, still a little apprehensive, worked the handle on the door and entered the cabin. She was amazed. Not only did it look like she was inside a helicopter, she could hear the jet engines and the throb of the rotor, she could feel the vibrations and slight sway of the cabin, and she could see through all the windows — it looked like a cloudy day outside, with fields and trees far below.
“Greetings, Sister Liberty,” the pleasant computer-generated male voice said. “This Omega 3000 Rotary Wing Flight Simulator, made by DynaTech of Seattle, Washington, is running program BEGINNER-1. Your aircraft is currently in stationary flight two thousand feet above the ground. Your weather is overcast, with a cloud ceiling of five thousand feet, and a visibility of ten miles. There is no wind. Please be seated in the pilot’s chair at your convenience.”
Liberty worked her way to the front of the helicopter, and just as Sister Erica had said, she was having trouble believing it wasn’t real. But there was one clear fact that made it unreal — she was the only one on board. Both the pilot and co-pilot seats were empty. But there was the little refrigerator, just
like on the real Taurus R5000 that had brought her to Lyceum. She couldn’t resist the temptation — she opened it, and smiled, finding cans of cold drinks and several other chilled snacks.
Her curiosity satisfied, she sat down carefully in the pilot’s seat, afraid that she might bump the controls and send the helicopter crashing to the ground.
The moment she settled herself into the seat, the computer voice continued.
“Now it is time to secure yourself. You will find retracting straps just above both of your shoulders. Each one crosses over your body and enters its socket near your opposite hip. It doesn’t matter which one you secure first.”
Liberty figured out the straps, and the voice went on.
“Take a moment to get comfortable. You can see directly in front of you, to your left and right through the side windows, and directly below you through the transparent floor. There are many controls on the panel in front of you, but the only ones we will be using today are the two torque control pedals under the control panel, and the main control stick. Do you see all three of them?”
The stick was obvious. Liberty looked under the panel and could see the two pedals. “I see them.”
“Good. Let’s start with the torque control pedals. They control the tail rotor. They are interlocked so that when you press on one, the other will necessarily come up. It is not possible to press both at once. The pedals turn the helicopter, but do not cause it to fly in any direction. Place your feet on them and experiment so that you can see their effect. At this point the main control stick will not be active so that you can see just the effect of the tail rotor pedals.”
Liberty placed her feet lightly on the pedals. She was glad to find they were just hard enough to press so they didn’t do anything until she purposefully pushed on one of them. She tried the left one first. The view in all directions began to shift as she realized the helicopter was turning to the left. But, like the voice had said, the helicopter didn’t go anywhere, it just turned.
She ceased pressing on the left pedal, but to her alarm the helicopter continued to turn to the left. She was finishing her first complete rotation when the voice spoke again.
“As you are experiencing, simply ceasing to press on a pedal does not return the tail rotor to its neutral state. You need to press on the other pedal until both are again even.”
Liberty did so, and the craft finally quit turning. She spent the next few minutes turning it one way and then the other, a little bit or a complete circle.
Finally she tried pressing down hard on the right pedal and just letting the helicopter spin.
“Although it will not be simulated at this time, a rapid and severe rotation can cause instabilities in your flight that can be very difficult to stabilize.
Dizziness is also a danger. Can you return the craft to a stable flight?”
“Of course!” Liberty said, and then discovered that it was not as easy as she had thought. As soon as she began to cancel the spinning, everything appeared to begin tumbling chaotically.
That’s not a simulation! she thought. That’s my own sense of balance going crazy. She instinctively snapped her eyes shut. Okay, I’m just spinning. My feet. I need to ignore everything and bring my feet to the same level.
After what felt like several long minutes of trying to concentrate on her feet, trying to make sure they were side by side on the pedals while ignoring the dizzy feeling that was still making her head spin even though her eyes were closed, the voice finally spoke again.
“Good work, Liberty. Let’s move on to the main control stick.”
Liberty opened her eyes. The helicopter had stopped spinning. She looked down at her feet. They actually were side by side. She breathed a deep sigh.
“This simulator is configured for the newer, combined form of control stick which incorporates both the cyclic pitch control and the collective pitch control. The cyclic control, which causes the main rotor to move the craft in any compass direction, is actuated by moving the control stick in any direction — forward, backward, left, right, or in between. The collective control, which controls overall rotor pitch and speed, is actuated by twisting the grip of the control stick. Let us start with the cyclic control. While you get comfortable with it, the collective function of the control stick will be disabled...”
Liberty had lost all track of time, or even where she was. She was flying a
helicopter, and that’s all that mattered. For the next twenty minutes she played with the cyclic control, making the craft move forward, backward, and even sideways. She tried very slow speeds and she pushed it to the limit.
Even though she had been told she didn’t need to pay attention to anything on the control panel, she was glad to see that the air speed indicator was working.
She was able to crank it up to nearly two hundred miles per hour going forward, but when she tried that backwards or sideways, the computer voice informed her of ‘potentially dangerous instabilities that were not currently being simulated.’ Suddenly it said something that reminded her of where she was.
“Your simulator time is over for today, Liberty. Your instructor is in the entry room awaiting you. Thank you for your excellent flying. If you wish to review your simulator session, your instructor will assist you.”
The view of woods and fields outside the helicopter faded slowly to darkness as the cabin lights came on. Liberty just breathed and blinked for a moment, getting used to the idea that she was back on the ground, in a flight simulator that had just been shut off, back at Lyceum. And she realized she was extremely thirsty.
She quickly unstrapped herself, grabbed a can from the little refrigerator, and walked back through the cabin, remembering with a smile that the exit was through the restroom. She opened the little door and stepped through.
“Hi, Liberty!” Sister Erica said from the computer console. “Looks like you got through pedals and cyclic, and really tested their limits. That’s good. Any questions?”
“The tumbling sensation when I tried to come out of the spin was just me, right?”
“Right. The simulator was just showing you the spinning landscape. It was the change in the spinning that caused the sensation of tumbling. It’s a very common experience in that situation. Imagine what trouble you’d be in if you were really flying and that happened, and then you tried to compensate for it with the control stick...”
Liberty turned gray. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“And yet you must. We’ll simulate it periodically, and you’ll probably find you’ll get used to it and be able to just see what’s really happening. Shall we
go learn about de-fueling?”
“Sure. I just want to drain this can of juice — I’m parched!”
Liberty listened carefully and took notes during the lecture, and then the class went up to the control room to watch Erica and Helen take off in the smaller helicopter in Port Two. Fred entered the simulator.
During the last hour of the class, Liberty read the textbook she had been given and worked through the corresponding pages of the accompanying workbook. The other three students were doing the same, all at different points in their books. Occasionally they would ask each other questions.
A few minutes before four o’clock, Fred returned from the simulator with a sour look on his face.
“Crash and burn?” Tim inquired with sympathy.
“Twice,” Fred admitted.
Erica and Helen returned soon after.
As everyone prepared to leave for the day, Liberty just sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. There was a smile on her face. She was now studying to be a helicopter pilot . Eat your heart out, North Philadelphia Girl’s Academy.
“How’s
the
reading
going?” Erica asked.
Liberty opened her eyes. “Good. I’m about halfway through the first chapter.”
“Excellent. Most students try to polish a chapter a week. You can finish it as homework if that pace is comfortable. But if other responsibilities come up, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m free as a bird this week. Next week is when the fun starts.”
“If it doesn’t conflict with anything, I have a simulator hour open on Thursday evening...?”
“Really? I’ll make sure it doesn’t conflict with anything!” Liberty said with absolute certainty.
Sister Erica smiled.
That day, Ashley worked her way through all the level three and level four compulsory skills, again discovering that she could do them all perfectly every time, which was her working definition of a score of ten. Wednesday was
devoted to level five, and at that point she bravely admitted to herself and to Coach Faelan that there was one skill she could not execute to perfection every time. It received a nine.
Thursday she tackled the level six skills, on two of which she gave herself nines.
Ashley was very happy when Friday arrived. She reviewed the skills unique to level seven, giving herself one eight, three nines, and the rest tens.
Then she turned her attention to the routines that had combined all of those skills, and had won her a gold medal in Sioux Falls a year and a half before.
At four o’clock, she told the coach she was ready.
She started with her floor exercise. Luckily the same piece of music she had used before was in the disk collection in the coach’s office. As soon as she started, all the rest of the people using the gym realized that someone of considerable skill was performing, and stopped what they were doing to watch.
As Ashley finished and the watchers applauded, she thought to herself that it had been good, very good, but not as good as she would have liked. She had lost some of her lightness, and planned to do whatever work it took to get it back. Brother Faelan gave her a 9.5, Karen a 9.7, and Tabitha a 9.6. Ashley felt they were being generous.
Next she vaulted, her weakest event. She was happy to discover that she was able to stick both landings, but knew her flight wasn’t as poised and controlled as it should have been. She received scores of 9.3, 9.2, and 9.5
from her comrades.
After a break and a cup of juice, Ashley approached the balance beam. She took a good half minute standing there honing her concentration to a fine edge, and was later very glad. Her balance stayed with her, and her lightness seemed to return. Toward the middle of her routine, the audience started making sounds of astonishment, but Ashley didn’t hear them until she landed and took her bows. Her coach gave her a 9.9, and her friends a 9.9 and a ten.
Finally she slipped on her palm guards and chalked the uneven parallel bars. As much as she wanted to look six feet tall, she tempered that desire with the need to retain complete control, both in fact and in appearance. She knew she was taller and a little heavier than she had been at the South Dakota
Championships, yet still lighter than most gymnasts. She executed the skills close to perfectly, but she was aware of a few transitions that needed work.
She received scores of 9.8, 9.9, and 9.7, and a hearty applause.
Brother Faelan gave the team a light conditioning, and then reminded them that every resident member had special duties that weekend. He recommended gym time late Saturday night and Sunday after the funeral guests had departed, as long as the gymnasts didn’t have other responsibilities.
By late afternoon on Wednesday, Shawn was starting to run out of telephone numbers to call. There were some persons on his list who kept their phone numbers very private, but he was able to contact a few of them on the Internet. Several dozen were still thinking about the funeral invitation, and had promised to call him back. Working with Brother Robert, he arranged with a non-resident member in Raleigh to call in person on those with whom no other contact was possible. By the end of the day he had three hundred and five confirmations.
All day Thursday and Friday Shawn had to spend scattered amounts of time on the phone or at a computer reading Internet mail responses, but he also had plenty of time to help Brother Robert with other tasks. He noticed trucks arriving from numerous vendors to prepare the kitchen and pantry for the onslaught that weekend. He saw dormitory rooms in the Lodge being rearranged into suites for the largest families, and residence hall rooms being readied to serve as additional lodgings. He helped the older member with lists and phone calls, orders to local suppliers and the stowing of those supplies when they arrived. Shawn was learning very quickly how Lyceum readied itself for a major event. It took more work by more people than he ever would have imagined.
Although not yet on the work schedules, Liberty was glad to help Brenda with the scores of pies and cakes she was baking for the weekend, and promised to continue to assist her friend, who would literally be in the kitchen almost constantly until the funeral guests departed.
She easily finished the first chapter in her pilot training textbook, and had
a good start on the second by her scheduled simulator time.
At seven o’clock on Thursday, Liberty entered the outer room of the rotary wing flight simulator just as an instructor and two students from a private flight school were coming out. She sat down at the computer terminal.
Please enter your name.
L-I-B-E-R-T-Y
Welcome, Sister Liberty. You are scheduled to use the simulator for the next hour. You have three options:
(1) Program BEGINNER-1 from where you left off.
(2)
Program
BEGINNER-1 from the beginning.
(3) Quiz on chapter 1 of your textbook.
After a moment’s thought, she selected option number two, confident that she could just refresh her knowledge of the tail rotor pedals and the cyclic control, without spending much time with them. She looked forward to using all the controls together.
After entering the cabin, she had herself strapped in with an open can of juice in a beverage holder within reach while the simulator was still speaking its words of welcome. She was glad the computer could sense that she was already seated and secured, and so skipped those instructions.
Liberty gave herself a few minutes with each of the controls she had already learned. Then she listened carefully as the program continued.
“The collective control must be used in close coordination with the cyclic control, just as the accelerator of a car is used in coordination with the steering wheel. If you increase the cyclic pitch of the rotor by moving the control stick further in any direction, but you do not supply the added power needed to accomplish the increased velocity, the craft will lose altitude, as more of the rotor’s power will be used moving the craft and so less will be available to maintain flight. This will now be simulated. The collective control is still disabled. Try using the cyclic control to various degrees, and observe the loss of altitude that occurs.”
Liberty played with this concept for a few minutes, and then went on.
“Now the collective control will be functional. As you use the cyclic
control, attempt to compensate by twisting the collective control in order to maintain a stable altitude. Remember, there is no danger, as this is only a simulation, and all other complicating factors are being ignored for the present.”
Coordinating the two control functions was not at all a trivial matter, and it took the remainder of Liberty’s simulator time to get the hang of it. She often found herself over-compensating and gaining altitude rapidly. Well, that was better than losing too much altitude and crashing, she told herself.
By the time the simulator announced that her hour was over, she was starting to feel like she was really making the helicopter do something interesting. One more hour with the same program, she figured, would bring her to the point of being comfortable with the basic controls.
When she exited the cabin, the next person was still talking to someone in the hall, so she sat down at the console and selected Schedule. To her frustration, the only free times were between one and five in the morning.
Oh, well, she was getting up at four to help Brenda anyway. She put herself on the schedule for three o’clock in the morning. Her only problem, she knew, would be remembering to go to bed early.
By Friday night, most of the preparation work for the upcoming funeral had been completed, and Shawn realized he had left behind at least one friend in his home town. After getting ready for bed, he lay on his cot in Brother Jacob’s room and managed to write a letter before falling asleep.
August 4th
Dear Todd,
I am now a member of that place I told you about called Lyceum. My trip across the country from Greenville to Oregon was the strangest trip I have ever taken. I rode in an old pick-up truck, an airplane, and a helicopter!
It’s really amazing what Lyceum can do. After I left your place, I was still being chased by people from my church... I mean my father’s church.
But as soon as I called my friend Sarah at Lyceum, they had me picked-up in less than half an hour.
I got here just in time for their evaluation week. There were two other young people in the group, and I made friends with them, and they both got accepted too.
I’ve been helping this week to get ready for a big funeral that’s being held here tomorrow. I start classes and regular work next week.
How’s your Bible reading going? I’ve asked for several science classes and several religion classes. Yeah, I know, strange combination, but I have a lot of things to catch up on.
If you ever travel out this way, you can stop by and visit. I’ll have my own room after this weekend. Good luck at everything you decide to do!
Your friend,
Shawn
Chapter 2: The Passing of a Great Lady A few minutes after eight o’clock on Saturday morning, the big buses started rolling up to the unloading zone in front of the Lyceum Lodge. More than a hundred members were present, formally dressed and with name badges in place, including Lyceum’s three newest members.
Shawn knew that only two of the buses belonged to Lyceum; the other five had been rented for the occasion. He helped unload the luggage compartments and arrange the suitcases neatly in a long row. Brother Robert, looking as much like a southern gentleman as anyone could, greeted each party, handing them a schedule of events and an envelope with their name and room assignment written thereon, and with several coupons within for meals and other amenities. Then he selected a member from those assembled and introduced them. The member collected the party’s luggage and carried or carted it toward the Lodge entrance while chatting with the party and answering questions.
Brother Robert selected Shawn to escort an elderly couple. As they had only two medium size suitcases, he carried them by hand.
“Samuel, I bet they’ll read Phoebe’s will at the Testament... that’s strange, there are two Testaments. Why is that, Sonny?”
“They are being held in a room that won’t hold all of the guests at once, and Mrs. Hutchinson prepared her testaments that way. They are recorded messages from her to all of you. Here is your room.”
“Novel,” the elderly man said, looking at the door. “Names instead of
numbers.”
“Your lock is ready to be keyed,” Shawn explained. “In this cabinet you will find cups and utensils, ice and hot water. Towels and such are in the bathroom. You may have noticed on your schedules that there is a reception at nine o’clock.”
“Where is that located?”
Shawn pointed out the location of Conference Center One on the map printed on the back of their schedule.
“Thank you, Son,” the man said, holding out a twenty dollar bill.
“Um... you don’t have to...” he said, feeling embarrassed.
“Of course not. Neither did Phoebe have to pay for all this for us.” He continued to hold out the bill.
Shawn slowly took it, still not sure if it was the right thing to do. “Thank you... very much!”
“You’re obviously not a bell boy by trade. A real bell boy would have pocketed that in an instant, and be waiting for more. What’s your name, Son?”
“Shawn,
Sir.”
“Will we see you again, Shawn?” the lady asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be helping out all weekend.”
“You’re from our part of the country, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Greenville, South Carolina.”
They talked for several more minutes, and then the couple appeared to want privacy to get settled into their room, so Shawn stepped out, closing the door behind him. He looked at the twenty dollar bill. For the first time since he had left home... no, for the first time in his life, he had proof that his efforts had been worth something to someone.
After escorting a young couple with a baby to their room, Ashley was helping to stock and serve the breakfast treats and light hors d’oeuvres that were pouring out of the kitchen into Conference Center One. It was not currently divided into several smaller rooms as she had most often seen it, but was completely opened into one huge room that could have held a thousand people if filled with chairs. At the moment, however, it contained plenty of
chairs for the three hundred and thirty funeral guests, tables for the reception food and drink which were beautifully decorated with flowers and silver, and plenty of open floor space for milling about.
Keeping her ears open while carrying trays and pitchers, Ashley learned that the middle-aged man everyone seemed to want to talk to, or at least to appear to be talking to, was the Reverend Grayley Taylor from Mrs.
Hutchinson’s church in Raleigh. She figured out that he would be officiating at the funeral, and she felt sorry for him after awhile, as he was constantly being asked questions, most of which he had to answer with a variation on, “It was Mrs. Hutchinson’s will that it be done that way.”
By the time most of the guests had wandered away from the reception to walk in the gardens or otherwise enjoy the Lyceum campus before the scheduled activities started, Ashley had found that Sarah had been right during her final interview. Seemingly guessing her age, no less than six different people had asked her what she did there at Lyceum. Although she always listed it last, she mentioned her gymnastics training, now officially at elite levels, with pride.
As the entire Dining Hall had been decorated and arranged to seat the funeral party and Lyceum’s other guests for lunch, the members were making sandwiches in the Residential Lobby, just as they usually did on Sundays.
With rolls rising and biscuits in the oven, Liberty dashed out of the kitchen at about 11:30, made two huge sandwiches for herself and Brenda, and dashed back.
Brenda paused in the middle of building four German chocolate cakes and sunk her teeth into her sandwich. “What’d you put in this? I don’t think I’ve ever had a sandwich quite like it!” she said, mouth still half full.
“A little bit of everything. It all looked good,” Liberty admitted, smiling.
Just then Sister Helen burst into the kitchen. “We need rolls on the buffet table! Can I tell people those cakes will be ready soon?” she asked with a grin.
“No way!” Brenda said. “These are for tonight!”
Liberty handed Helen the first of many pans of rolls that would go out of the kitchen during that meal, and then went back to making more.
Another server dashed in for salad bar materials. Sister Joan, chopping
and slicing things not far from the baking area with the help of the two thirteen-year-olds Karen and April, pulled what was needed from a nearby refrigerator.
In like manner, the stream of requests from the servers continued for the next hour as the main body of the visitors, more than a thousand of them in all, passed through the buffet line. Liberty wondered what the following day would be like, with more than two thousand lunch guests expected.
The memorial service began at two o’clock. All of the guests at Phoebe Hutchinson’s funeral could have fit in the lower section of the Ecumenical Temple, but many chose to spread out in the seats above the main walkway.
Shawn, still in a suit and tie, greeted people at the door and pointed out the seating options, steering those who had problems seeing into the lower seats, and those with ambulatory handicaps into the row of chairs at the same level as the main walkway. The most infirm he helped right to their seats.
While everyone got settled, the Lyceum choir sang several hymns that were well liked at the deceased’s church. On the main floor at the bottom of the Temple, the elegant coffin, now open, was festooned with flowers and surrounded by candles. When most everyone appeared to be seated, the Reverend Taylor greeted them and opened the service with prayer.
As Shawn stood near his assigned door, watching with half an eye for late-comers, his respect for Phoebe Hutchinson soared as the minister described her life and works, the many organizations she had helped with her talent or money, and the many people’s lives she had touched with her generosity, many of whom Shawn presumed were present at the service. He learned that she was one of the most respected people in her congregation, and people often went to her for advice, even when they were not in need of her generosity.
Her husband and one of her children had pre-deceased her, leaving two children, several grand children, numerous nieces and nephews, and one sister, most of whom seemed to be present.
The minister then asked anyone with fond memories of the deceased to step forward. One after another, sixty-seven people wanted to share their recollections of Phoebe Hutchinson. Most of them took less than a minute,
but a few took much longer. It was almost three o’clock when the stream of speakers finally ended. Then one more stepped forward.
Shawn thought Sarah looked very pretty in her dark lavender dress, her long blond hair perfectly complementing its color. It was hard for him to believe that she was only nine years old. He was not surprised she was at the funeral, but he had not expected her to speak. She stepped to the podium.
“Most of you have no idea how Phoebe has touched our lives here at Lyceum. We first knew her over a year ago, and it always seemed that instead of us serving her, she was serving us. The young people quickly grew to love her, and she was always doing nice things for families who were here to visit, and anyone who looked lonely and in need of a friend.
“Then, when she returned this year, knowing she...” Sarah paused to deal with the feelings her own words were evoking. “...knowing she was going to die soon, we were all very sad. Now the story passes to someone else.”
Sarah dashed back to her seat, obviously crying. Shawn wished he could comfort her, but felt the need to stay at his door, and could see that Sister Rachael was sitting next to her.
To Shawn’s complete surprise, Liberty stepped to the podium. He had last seen her wheeling a cartful of cupcakes and tarts out of the kitchen, but now she was dressed in a dark blue full-length dress, her long black hair attractively cascading over her shoulders. He was stunned by her beauty.
“I only met Mrs. Hutchinson once before she passed away. She gave me the honor of helping her to make a decision about a very large amount of money. That decision will soon enable many young people to learn about their world in the very best way there is, by traveling in it and studying in other countries.”
She paused for thought, then went on.
“I think my father is a great man, but it took me fifteen years to realize that fact. I only knew Phoebe Hutchinson for a minute, and in that time I could tell she was a great lady.”
Liberty sat back down, feeling that her words had somehow been inadequate to the occasion, but not knowing what she could have added. As no one else stood to speak, Reverend Taylor closed the memorial service with prayer.
“And now, my friends,” he said after a suitable moment for reflection had passed, “it is time to walk with Phoebe one last time. It is a strangely beautiful way we will take. Phoebe loved this way the first time she saw it, and specifically willed that it should be part of her funeral. We will then linger in the Mortuary to pay our last respects before the casket is sealed.”
The reverend and several of his assistants moved the candles and flowers from around the coffin, handing the vases to the ladies who were gathering near for the procession. The casket was temporarily closed, and eight male relatives and friends took it up. The Reverend Grayley Taylor led the way into the Tunnel of Ages, the only visible exit from the bottom of the Ecumenical Temple. The curtains at the entrance to the Tunnel opened on their own as the procession approached.
At first the tunnel was very dark, although walkway lights near the carpeted floor made for sure footing. Then the walkers became aware that the tunnel had curved walls of glass, extending from about knee level on both sides and meeting at the top, forming a complete semi-circle. For a moment the glass seemed completely black and opaque, but soon they could see that just beyond the thick panes were layers and layers of sand of many different colors and shades, forming beautiful and sometimes intricate patterns, and giving a sense of being deep underground.
But a faint blue-green light was growing up ahead, and a slight bubbling sound could be heard. The sand gave way to water, gently lighted from behind, and numerous kinds of tiny fish floated amongst plants and rocky grottos just outside the curving glass. The casket moved on in silence.
Soon the water ended and a diorama opened out beyond the glass, at first of the sea shore, with tide pools and little waves splashing on the sand nearby, miniature boats in a harbor, scattered cottages and a fishing village further off. Faintly the cries of sea gulls could be heard, and the voices of men and women working and children playing.
The scene beyond the glass changed quickly as the party moved on, becoming deep forests where all kinds of creatures roamed, deer and squirrels, rabbits and birds. In a glade of tall, brightly colored mushrooms, Elves danced, and out of a tunnel Dwarves brought crystals and jewels.
Finally, in the deepest part of the forest, a pair of white unicorns could be seen
beside a pool of blue water.
The Tunnel of Ages continued, seemingly lifting the walkers into the lofty peaks of high mountains. Big horn sheep and mountain goats clung to the rocks, and eagles soared. But soon even the snow capped pinnacles were left behind, and only clouds, and a few high-flying birds, could be seen. Then, as the party moved on, the light dimmed, and the stars came out.
Thousands upon thousands of stars blazed, like on a dark moonless night far from any city, and yet they seemed so close they could almost be touched.
A comet bent its tail around a nearby sun, and a ringed planet spun slowly just outside the curving glass. Colorful nebulae seemed to expand even as the funeral party passed, and an entire spiral galaxy could be seen in all its three dimensional splendor.
Finally, to the complete surprise of all those who had never walked the Tunnel before, the last few stars seemed to move with them, and then grow into many different forms, some of them like angels, some of them like the Gods and heroes of mythology, and some of them like the teachers and prophets of old. Each of the forms grew until it was nearly full size, each gesturing onward through the Tunnel with expressions of welcome and comfort. And each form finally faded into the growing light at the end of the Tunnel of Ages.
The light was coming from above, and splashing water could be heard.
The walkway started to gently climb as it also began to curve, and soon the party was gazing up at the many statues and fountains that were intertwined from the level of the Tunnel of Ages, all the way up to the ceiling of the Mortuary Building, two floors above. The walkway spiraled two complete turns around the sculpted figures and splashing waters before delivering the procession into a room of vaulted wooden ceilings, soft lighting, and planters filled with lush greenery.
But the casket did not stop there. It continued on through wide double doors into a large open room, where it was placed on a low platform, opened, and again surrounded by flowers.
Ashley and Liberty both recognized the room. Ashley now pushed an elderly lady in a wheelchair, and Liberty walked beside an infirm man with a
cane, his other hand on her steadying arm. They noticed that in addition to the many remembrance shrines all around the perimeter of the room, there was a special set of display boards and cases near the center of the large open space, with photographs and other memorabilia from the life of the deceased.
For the next half hour, the funeral guests filed past the open casket, some shedding tears, others silent. They gazed at the memorabilia, some clearly having precious memories invoked, others just passing the time. Some peeked into the remembrance shrines, some nibbled at the light refreshments on a side table, and some stepped outside to smoke or to be alone.
Finally, after the reverend again led the guests in prayer, the coffin was sealed by the bearers while the assembled sang hymns and dabbed at tears.
Again it was taken up and slowly borne through wide glass doors and along a winding path into the cemetery.
The burial plot was on an inconspicuous minor pathway, almost on the edge of the bordering woods, and the only other plots near were of youth and children who had died untimely deaths in accidents or had succumbed to one of the modern vaccineless viruses. But even though it was in an odd corner of the cemetery, it was just as nicely cared for as the main pathways, and the site the party now approached had obviously been prepared and decorated with unusual effort and expense. A large headstone had already been erected, but was currently covered by a cloth.
The casket bearers placed their burden on the three boards that spanned the deep hole. As some people were murmuring about the appropriateness of the site, Reverend Taylor was careful to mention, as soon as he began speaking, that Phoebe herself had selected it. His closing speech and prayers were short, as so much had already been said in the Temple and in the Mortuary. The planks were removed, and the casket was lowered to its resting place in silence.
Brother Howard pulled the covering cloth from the headstone. The entire assembly made sounds of amazement as the beautifully sculpted and polished stonework was revealed, a large cross with a scroll-like stone plaque where the arms intersected.
Always remember the families and the children... Liberty said to herself, reading the plaque.
The base of the monument bore the name of the deceased, the names of her parents, her husband, and her children, and the dates of her life.
Three hundred and thirty people passed by the grave where the beautiful wooden coffin sat six feet down. Most tossed in flowers, many also tossed a handful of soil. The stone cross stood like a watching sentinel.
Shawn gazed at the proceedings in silence, there being a lull in his responsibilities for a time. He pondered all he had seen, and all he had done to help prepare for this funeral. He realized that many institutions existed that were willing to provide a set of tried and true services for the customary fee. But he knew the funeral he was witnessing, with all the special arrangements he had helped to make, all the services that were being provided, and all the facilities that were available here at Lyceum, would have been extremely difficult to stage anywhere else in the country, at any price.
He wondered where Lyceum found the sheer courage necessary to deviate from the norm in so many ways, both in terms of services provided, and in terms of the fee charged. He knew that in this case, Lyceum was being handsomely reimbursed from Mrs. Hutchinson’s estate. But he already knew of many other cases in which Lyceum had not even met its expenses. He glanced at the nearby graves of youth who had died of AIDS and Ebola, and doubted that their families could have afforded the regular price of the marble headstones that adorned their resting places. He decided to run these questions by Brother Jacob the next time they were together.
As soon as the casket had been lowered, Liberty had dashed back to the kitchen to help Brenda with the desserts for that evening. Shawn had been assigned to stay as long as people were lingering around the gravesite, making sure they knew when and where the banquet was being held. He discovered that his assignment had been a proper one: several of Phoebe’s grandchildren, now adults, had been very close to her, and seemed to be lost in a timeless fog of emotions. As five o’clock approached, he gently offered to walk with them to the banquet room. All but two accepted his guidance.
The banquet was arranged and decorated to create an atmosphere of quiet and thoughtful relaxation. The Garden Dining Room was seating other
Lyceum guests, but the entire remainder of the Dining Hall was formally set with white linen and cloth napkins, stemware and polished silver, candles and fine china. The lights were low and the servers were dressed in dark colors and spoke in soft tones. There was a choice of two of Phoebe’s favorite dishes: baked chicken breaded with savory herbs, and Cajun spiced red snapper. The selection was preceded by delicate salads and flaky croissants, the latter of Liberty’s making. The main dish was accompanied by steamed greens with lemon, buttered hominy, and glasses of fine wine. Fresh fruit compotes followed closely. No one seemed unsatisfied.
About 6:30, most everyone was nearing the end of their meal. Reverend Taylor rose.
“Family and friends, in case you do not have your programs with you, I will read the names of the people who should attend the first part of Mrs.
Hutchinson’s testament. I will walk that way at about ten minutes before the hour. Please remember that these testaments do not include information about Phoebe’s will. Her lawyer will be contacting the effected parties next week, and can also provide a copy of her will to any interested party starting Monday.”
He read the list of names, and then nearly all of those rose and followed him from the Dining Hall. When they arrived at the Planetarium Theater, Shawn was there to greet them and check them off the list. Only one person slipped away after seeing that roll was being taken. His motive in going to the wrong testament was never known to any but himself.
The lights in the Planetarium dimmed and the flowers and trees of Phoebe’s garden were projected all around the perimeter of the dome, with blue sky overhead. The holographic image of the elderly lady paced to and fro on the raised platform in the center of the room, with kind words for everyone on the list, including those few who had not attended. She also had exhortations for many, chiding some for being too close with their ‘vast sums of hoarded wealth’ and waging her holographic finger at others for being stingy with their skills and their time.
The first group was quiet and thoughtful as they filtered out of the Planetarium, and the second group had much the same experience. In the following weeks and months, there was a considerable increase in the amount
of money and volunteer time flowing into charities and service organizations in and around Raleigh, North Carolina.
Desserts and evening drinks were served to the funeral party in Conference Center One after the last group had finished hearing Phoebe’s words. A few were disappointed that they couldn’t yet find out about the old lady’s will, but most had realized that so doing would completely change the mood of the weekend. Some tried to define that mood, and the only thing they could agree on was that a feeling of timelessness seemed to pervade the occasion. Others compared notes on the testaments, some making plans for ways in which they could fulfill Phoebe’s requests of them.
Many Lyceum members, including Shawn and Ashley, remained on duty until midnight to help with the questions and needs of the funeral guests.
Liberty and Brenda, however, cleaned up the baking area of the kitchen and headed for their residence hall as soon as the last desserts went out at 9:15.
They knew they had to be back at work at four o’clock the following morning.
Liberty found she wasn’t immediately sleepy, so she pulled out her writing pad and drafted a letter to one of the people who had made her present situation possible.
August 5th
Dear Mr. Neils,
I’m sure you’ve heard from my dad by now, but I wanted to tell you myself anyway. I found out that I was accepted last Monday, and it was one of the happiest moments of my life.
I owe you a lot. You taught me patience during the year I lived at the country house, and I don’t think I would have gotten into Lyceum without it.
And even though I’m smart, the only useful skill I could claim when I got here was the one you helped me to learn — caring for horses. I’ll probably be doing some of that for my assigned work here.
I’ve already started my helicopter pilot class, and it’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever done. They have a really excellent simulator that I spent three hours in last week.
I just helped at a big funeral, and it gave me a lot to think about, because
I met the lady before she died, and I think me and her had a lot in common.
Thank you so much for everything! I’ll visit as soon as I can.
Love,
Liberty
