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Higher Learning In the dark of the night the shadows could be felt more than seen. Gliding quietly, softly, above the road, they came from the street where the trees orderly bordered the road. They were evenly spaced, giving the woods an eerie feeling – as though someone had put them where they were for a purpose. At the opposite end of the road a strange white light, more like a bright fog, could be seen slowly dimming. And then all was completely dark. In an upstairs room of the old ivy-covered house a child stirred in his sleep. Slowly, he opened his eyes, not thinking about what he was doing. Without him realizing it, he got up and moved over to the window. The curtains fluttered in the warm breeze coming through the open window. The figures gently curved their path, moving upwards, closer to the house. They swooped about the window a little and then flew into the boy’s room through the opening. They flew about the boy’s head, while he was still unconscious. The shadows circled about his body, moving faster and faster. His body became less and less visible in the dark. The colors of his skin and pajamas fading, just as the light had. Quietly as they had come, the figures slipped out of the house, without leaving any evidence that the boy had ever been there. * * * "Jack, hurry up! You’ll be late for school!" a middle-aged woman called up to her son. She went about getting the cereal out and into a bowl to save him the time in doing it. Growing impatient, she called again. He still did not come down or answer. She ran upstairs to make sure that he had heard her. She knocked on the door to his room, and still, no one answered. Slowly, she opened the door. She gasped as she looked at the bed with no occupant. The covers were pulled back, but no one was in the room. She ran to the bathroom to see if he could be there, but it was empty. She searched about the house frantically, calling his name. No one answered. Her little boy did not come out and tell her it was only a joke. She sank down on the floor and cried. * * * The boy blinked and looked around him, marveling at the brightness of his surroundings. He took a deep breath and tried to take everything in. The green meadow speckled with dots of colorful flowers. The sky bluer than he had ever seen. Mountain peaks rose high above him on all sides. He could hear a brook off in the distance, trickling its way down the mountain. He could hear soft voices, but could see no one. "Where am I?" he murmured to himself. And someone answered. "This is the land where you are to have your Learning. Here is the place where you will be taught everything one needs to know to be one of us." The boy looked around to find the source of the voice, but no one appeared to be there. Then he saw a speck of movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around to see it again. And what he saw was not a person, but a shadow of one. Nobody was there, but a trace of light glimmered around the silhouette of a man. Then he noticed more, joining in to form a circle around him. "Who are you?" was all the boy could get out. "We are a people unknown to the rest of the human race. We are men who have been changed to be better than the humans that we were. We are considered superior to man by our creator, but have been kept secret from that species so that their pride would not be hurt. Humans are a very delicate race, for, you see, they understand very little of what they know. They have a vast expanse of knowledge that they can do nothing with because they don’t know what it means. There are two things that separate us from our counterparts. The first is that we have a greater understanding of the world around us. We have the ability to comprehend why the world is. It is not the most enjoyable knowledge to have, but we have been chosen to have it." Suddenly, one of the shadows burst out from the crowd, high into the sky. The person swooped and dived before finally coming down to land next to the boy. "And the second thing, that Ike has been very kind in demonstrating," he started, glaring at the boy who had been flying, "is our ability to fly. I know this is a lot for you to think about at once, especially since you have newly come to us. Ike, since you have already introduced yourself, how about you take our new student to the Learners’ House." "Yes, sir," said Ike, "Come with me." And they started to walk across the field. "Has the old man given you your name yet?" "What do you mean has he given me my name yet? My name is Jack. And who is that man, anyway?" "Didn’t you hear him talking? He’s basically our father. He makes sure we all do what we’re supposed to do. He’s a very righteous man; he knows what he’s doing. And he’s a good teacher…if you let him teach you." "But what about my name? Why would he give me a name?" "Because all of the new kids get names. None of them keep the one’s they had as humans. We all get special names, and no one has the same one." "But why am I here?" "The same reason we all are. Creator wanted to make something new to help his game along. The humans by themselves were getting too boring." "What are you talking about? Who is the Creator? And what game?" "These are all things you will learn soon. Father will tell you all about our life here. You’ll see him later." As they neared a small cluster of trees, Jack noticed they looked familiar. "Ike, those trees up ahead, they look like the ones in the wood near my house!" "That’s because they’re the same kind of trees. They’re the ones Creator made for us." "Why can’t you tell me what this is all about?" "Because I don’t know everything; I’m still in training myself." They started to walk through the trees, and as they did, the woods started to change. As they walked the trees turned into buildings, and the sights and sounds of the forest faded away. The boy looked wonderingly around him, trying to figure out what had happened. "Those trees are passageways," said Ike, as though he had read his mind. "They are in every part of our world. The spaces between the trees go to different places. You’ll have to memorize them later, but for now you have me to lead you." Into a city they walked. But there were no people in this city. No cars filling the streets or pedestrians walking along the sidewalk. The boy wondered how the place could be so well kept and yet, so deserted. When the two boys got to the steps of a very large brick building, Ike led his companion up to the door. He held the door for him, but when the latter reached for it he jumped. He knew his hand was touching the door – he could feel the grain of the wood at his fingertips – but no where on the door could he see the hands he had put there. Then he saw the faint silvery shadow – the outline of skin, the same as all of those other people had, including Ike. He grew so bewildered and dizzy that he fell down on the cold step. His head spun with chaotic thoughts. He tried to piece together where he was and who he was and figure out if this were some horrible nightmare, or simple, harsh reality. He wanted to wake up then in his warm bed in the dear old familiar room he had occupied since the day of his birth. Instead he came to his senses lying on a feather bed that had satin sheets and fleece blankets. There was a mountain of pillows piled under his head, and he could practically disappear by lying back into them. It was a comfortable bed, but he still longed for home. He felt so tired; he just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe that way he could forget about all this and only think of the home he loved. So the boy went to sleep. But he did not dream of his home or the people he had known forever. His head swam with strange dreams like he had never had before. He saw the silvery people everywhere and then a voice called out to him. "Drake" it kept calling, over and over again, beckoning him to come closer to the voice. He walked through a tunnel of swirling light towards the voice. But the voice seemed to keep moving. It moved farther and farther away. He tried to get closer, to move faster, but his legs would not go faster. The voice faded away into the distance until it was merely he, pretending he still heard it. He awoke shivering from the nightmare. Or had it been a nightmare? He got dressed with clothes from the closet in the bedroom, which surprisingly fit him very well, and went down to breakfast. The dining room was a long room, which held an extremely long table. Shadow children were seated all around it talking and laughing while eating their bacon, eggs and toast. As he entered the room, a hush fell softly onto the children. An elderly woman came and put her hands on the boy's shoulders and led him out into the room. "What is your name?" she asked him. "Drake," replied the boy. Why had he said that? His name was Jack; that is what he had told Ike yesterday. And that is who he had been until yesterday. Before the dream. "Hello, Drake," they all answered. The lady instructed them to each tell him their name, going in order around the table. There was a Monica, a Travis, a Beatrice, and so on. They each had their own distinguished name. None sounded alike, and none were the ordinary Jennifer or Michael. He tried to remember all the names, but it was impossible; how could he ever know them by sight? There were so many, close to seventy, he thought. All of them seated around the same table and all of them there for the same reason. A reason which he did not know. He sat down next to Ike. The chairs were wooden and high-backed, but comfortable enough. They were cushioned with beautiful, intricately woven fabrics. The food tasted wonderful, even though his mother’s still tasted better. As he ate he kept looking around the table. He watched these shadows eating. It was strange to be able to see through people and know that they were real. And then a thought came to him. What if I am just a shadow? Do these children see me as I see them? Could my family see me if I were to be at home? And as he thought this, the children became less translucent. He could no longer see the backs of the chairs. Their translucence became opaqueness and he could see the colors of their clothing and their skin. Their motions became more exact as he saw each part moving. He was able to tell which person was which as they talked to each other. Each one had a face to match their voice. Each child had features to distinguish them from the one sitting next to them. When he finished with his breakfast Ike led him outside and told him he had been instructed to bring Drake to the training field after they ate. They walked back along the street they had traversed the evening before and back through the trees that led them back into the meadow. Ahead he could see the man who had spoken to him yesterday; only now, Drake could see him perfectly. He addressed him with his new name. "Drake," he said, "I know you have many questions about why you are here. I will answer them all in time, but for now, you must do as you are instructed." "Yes, sir," answered Drake, awed by the commanding presence of this man. "Good. The first thing that you must learn is how to use your ability to fly. It is not hard to start, but you must learn how to control yourself and how to land. All you have to do to fly is bend your knees, push, and jump. But to control yourself you must learn how to move your body to turn whichever way you want and you must remember that you cannot fly backwards or merely float. You must stay moving at all times or you will fall. Many new trainees love trying to use their arms to fly, but that’s not the way it’s done. You must use your legs and feet to turn. Tell me, have you ever been sailing?" "Yes, sir." It was funny, he said this word ‘sir’ without thinking about it, but he had never used it when talking to other adults. "Good, then you know how the rudder and tiller work. That is how you must command your legs, as though they are the steering tools of a boat. Would you like to try, or would you like me to show you first?" "I think I’ll try it myself, sir." "OK, then. Remember, bend and push. Then you must think about what you are doing at all times, at least until you get the hang of it. You must decide where you are going and how to steer there. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?" "I think so." "All right. Now bend your knees…and push!" As he said this Drake did so, and he shot up into the air. He kicked back and turned downwards so he was flying parallel to the ground. He did a somersault in the air and swooped down towards the ground, turning up again only a few meters above the ground. He flew this way and that, He even tried to do a figure eight, but it didn’t come out very well. Finally he came down and landed next to the Father by flying low to the ground and turning his legs down so he ran a few steps forward. The Father looked very impressed. "That was good, extremely good, in fact. I have never seen a student do so well on their first flight." "I went sailing a lot, sir." "Well, you must have been the skipper, then! There doesn’t seem to be much I shall need to teach you about flying, maybe some tricks, but you certainly have the basics down." He paused for a minute, thinking about how to say what he had to. "Since I don’t need to teach you how to fly, I think now would be a god time to talk to you about the reason we, and specifically you, are here." "Yes, please, sir. I don’t understand that at all. And why have you changed all our names?" "Yes," he chuckled. "The names are to distinguish us. Everyone has a unique name, one that is not used very often by humans…at least in this time period. Tell me, was any of your friends named Drake?" "No sir, I don’t know anyone named Drake. Well, I didn’t, at least. But why are the names different?" "I wanted to make them different, because after people become one of us, they are not the same person they were before, and therefore, they shouldn’t have the same name. No matter who they were before, people are changed by the things they learn being one of us. And I guess I have always liked unusual names. Ones that stick out that you can never forget, even though you don’t hear them very often. But back to the subject of why we are here. I assume you remember the things I said yesterday, but I’ll go over all of it again, now that it’s just you and I.
"You see, we were made by the Creator, as were all forms of life. However, we are the only ones who know what the Creator is. The humans come close, but they only guess, and have no real knowledge of what their purpose on Earth is. It is not nearly as glamorous as most of them seem to think. And morals really mean nothing in the macrocosm. It is all really a game. Just an experiment to amuse the Creator. The whole universe is really a joke. The Creator enjoys seeing how people deal with the problems he puts in front of them and what explanations they come up with for why things happen. Actually, he finds them quite humorous since he knows the truth. And we are his aids in this plan. We are the ones who do all the things that end up being unexplained, at least in recent times. We are new creatures; the Creator only started our race about 50 years ago when things became too predictable. He made us with the ability to fly and the appearance of being invisible. Invisible to humans, at least. We are not invisible to each other. He gave us these qualities that we might make miracles and disasters to stir up human life. It is not always fun for us, especially when it involves taking the lives of the people we have come from, but it is what we exist for, and, unfortunately, we must do it." "But why must we? What makes us do the bad things?" "The Creator does. Once we leave our worlds and enter the human’s, we have no control over what we do. It is all what he wants us to do. Nothing we think changes it. We can tell ourselves to stop, but it won’t do a thing." "That’s sick! How could anyone do that to people? How could anyone just be responsible for death and have it just be part of a game?" "But you are forgetting; the Creator is not a person. He doesn’t have the emotions of a human. He does not feel anything he does not wish to, no pain and no sadness. And he doesn’t have to answer to anyone. He isn’t responsible for anything, because for him, there is nothing he is or isn’t required to do. He does what he pleases with the things he has created, and it doesn’t matter what happens to them. He feels no attachment to them. They are just his toys to play with and give him something to do. And, in fact, so are we." Both stopped talking for a minute. The boy trying to take all of this in and finding it extremely hard to swallow. The Father waiting for Drake to fully realize what his fate was. Then the boy started to cry. Not bawling, just slow, silent tears running down his cheeks. "How can I do that?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else. "How could I ever just hurt people for someone else’s fun? How could that thing ever make us do such things? I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to cause them pain. I don’t want to do this!" "I know you don’t. None of us really do. But, you see, it is not our choice." "But why isn’t it?" yelled the boy. "Why didn’t he give us the choice? Why does he choose us to do such horrible things? How could anything be that heartless?" "Because he is heartless. He has no heart or body. Humans were not created in his image, as they all think of their God. There is no idea that humans have ever come up with to compare him to." "I want to go home! I don’t want to be one of you! I don’t want to do this! I don’t want to ever hurt people, no matter who they are! I want to go back to my family." The father softened. "Everyone feels that way at first. No one wants to be what they have become." "I don’t care about the others! I am not any of them! And I want to go back!" "Is it something you fell you will always want?" "Yes, sir. It is." "It is possible, but you need to be sure it’s what you want, because you can never come back." "I know it is what I want. I could never do this. I want to be a regular person again." "Are you sure you don’t want to think about this at all?" "I don’t need to think. I know I could never be happy playing this role." "Then I shall bring you back to your home." He led Drake in between the trees that led to his street where it was now dark and walked him down the road to his house. They flew up into the boy’s room through his window just as he had left it two nights before. The Father sprinkled a whit powder on the top of the boy’s head and then started to fly around his body. He flew circling the boy, starting around his head and working his way down to the feet until the boy had completely changed back to normal. He could no longer fly or see these other creatures. He still, however, knew their secret. He could feel the Father’s presence next to him, but could see no one there. He said goodbye and waved timidly at the creature who had known all of this. He felt shadow move over to the window and fly outside. Just like that, he was gone. The boy would never see him again, and he suddenly realized how much he would miss this man. He had not known the Father long, but already he had earned his name with the boy, whose name was now Jack again. He thought of the Creator and how he truly was heartless. How would he be able to bear knowing that and tell no one about it? How would he be able to face the world knowing that some people really were being punished for crimes they had never committed? How would he be able to live like everyone else did, accepting his or her own ideas about life and not having to believe any one thing? These are the thoughts he would have to deal with for the rest of his life. Suddenly he wished he had not come back. He had not thought of what he might think once he was back in his own home, as the Father had warned him to do. He had not heeded the warnings he had been given. And now he had to deal with the knowledge he would never be able to share with another. |