I am ready for you to open up, he thought. I am ready now.
Nothing happened. The sphere did not open.
Norman hadn't considered the possibility that he would be unable to open the sphere. After all, two others had already done it. How had they managed it?
Harry, with his logical brain, had been the first to figure it out. But Harry had only figured it out after he had seen Beth's tape. So Harry had discovered a clue in the tape, an important clue.
Beth had also reviewed the tape, watching it again and again, until she finally figured it out, too. Something in the tape ...
Too bad he didn't have the tape here, Norman thought. But he had seen it often, he could probably reconstruct it, play it back in his mind. How did it go? In his mind he saw the images: Beth and Tina talking. Beth eating cake. Then Tina had said something about the tapes being stored in the submarine. And Beth said something back. Then Tina had moved away, out of the picture, but she had said, "Do you think they'll ever get the sphere open?"
And Beth said, "Maybe. I don't know." And the sphere had opened at that moment.
Why?
"Do you think they'll ever get the sphere open?" Tina had asked. And in response to such a question, Beth must have imagined the sphere open, must have seen an image of the open sphere in her mind
There was a deep, low rumble, a vibration that filled the room.
The sphere was open, the door gaping wide and black.
That's it, he thought. Visualize it happening and it happens. Which meant that if he also visualized the sphere door closed -
With another deep rumble, the sphere closed.
- or open -
The sphere opened again.
"I'd better not press my luck," he said aloud. The door was still open. He peered in the doorway but saw only deep, undifferentiated blackness. It's now or never, he thought. He stepped inside.
The sphere closed behind him.
There is darkness, and then, as his eyes adjust, something like fireflies. It is a dancing, luminous foam, millions of points of light, swirling around him.
What is this? he thinks. All he sees is the foam. There is no structure to it and apparently no limit. It is a surging ocean, a glistening, multifaceted foam. He feels great beauty and peace. It is restful to be here.
He moves his hands, scooping the foam, his movements making it swirl. But then he notices that his hands are becoming transparent, that he can see the sparkling foam through his own flesh. He looks down at his body. His legs, his torso, everything is becoming transparent to the foam. He is part of the foam. The sensation is very pleasant.
He grows lighter. Soon he is lifted, and floats in the limitless ocean foam. He puts his hands behind his neck and floats. He feels happy. He feels he could stay here forever.
He becomes aware of something else in this ocean, some other presence.
"Anybody here?" he says.
I am here.
He almost jumps, it is so loud. Or it seems loud. Then he wonders if he has heard anything at all.
"Did you speak?"
No.
How are we communicating? he wonders.
The way everything communicates with everything else.
Which way is that?
Why do you ask if you already know the answer?
But I don't know the answer.
The foam moves him gently, peacefully, but he receives no answer for a time. He wonders if he is alone again.
Are you there?
Yes.
I thought you had gone away.
There is nowhere to go.
Do you mean you are imprisoned inside this sphere?
No.
Will you answer a question? Who are you?
I am not a who.
Are you God?
God is a word.
I mean, are you a higher being, or a higher consciousness?
Higher than what?
Higher than me, I suppose.
How high are you?
Pretty low. At least, I imagine so.
Well, then, that's your trouble.
Riding in the foam, he is disturbed by the possibility that God is making fun of him. He thinks, Are you making a joke?
Why do you ask if you already know the answer?
Am I talking to God?
You are not talking at all.
You take what I say very literally. Is this because you are from another planet?
No.
Are you from another planet?
No.
Are you from another civilization?
No.
Where are you from?
Why do you ask if you already know the answer?
In another time, he thinks, he would be irritated by this repetitive answer, but now he feels no emotions. There are no judgments. He is simply receiving information, a response. He thinks, But this sphere comes from another civilization.
Yes.
And maybe from another time.
Yes.
And aren't you a part of this sphere?
I am now.
So, where are you from?
Why do you ask if you already know the answer?
The foam gently shifts him, rocking him soothingly.
Are you still there?
Yes. There is nowhere to go.
I'm afraid I am not very knowledgeable about religion. I am a psychologist. I deal with how people think. In my training, I never learned much about religion.
Oh, I see.
Psychology doesn't have much to do with religion.
Of course.
So you agree?
I agree with you.
That's reassuring.
I don't see why.
Who is I?
Who indeed?
He rocks in the foam, feeling a deep peace despite the difficulties of this conversation.
I am troubled, he thinks.
Tell me.
I am troubled because you sound like Jerry.
That is to be expected.
But Jerry was really Harry.
Yes.
So are you Harry, too?
No. Of course not.
Who are you?
I am not a who.
Then why do you sound like Jerry or Harry?
Because we spring from the same source.
I don't understand.