Chapter Two: The Book of Grace
Grace reached for her glasses on the bedside table and held up the note, “Back soon —Mom.”
Plato watched Grace with one brow lifted above his green eyes as she got up to go to the kitchen. Grace could almost but not quite reach the cupboard over the sink. She pushed a stool against the counter and stepped up to get a glass. She filled it with water and took a long drink. The house was quiet; everyone was gone.
When Grace returned to her room Plato was still on her bed but he was curled on top of a large purple book.
‘Curious,’ she thought.
Grace hadn’t noticed a book on her bed when she got up a few minutes earlier. She couldn’t imagine where it had come from? ‘Maybe her mother had left it for her to read?’ Grace needed something to do. She wasn’t allowed electronics if she was missing school and the note said her mother would be back soon. She nudged Plato off the book. The History of the World was scrolled in large letters across the cover.
Grace liked school –––– well mostly. She liked her fifth grade teacher and he liked history. Her mom had been a history major in college. As many times as they moved, they packed boxes of history books along. Maybe this book had come from one of those boxes?
When Grace was younger, before she could read herself, her father had often skipped to the end of books he was reading to her. So, like her father, she too often started at the end of books. Grace opened the book toward the back. Plato touched his cold black nose to Grace’s arm. A shiver ran down her spine. She began to read.
In the spring, of the year 2142, the world prepared to celebrate a 100 years of peace. Le stepped off the boat as it silently docked alongside the wharf. It’s solar powered engines shut down. The large white sails that collected energy were already furled automatically into place. The flag of the World, the round image of the Earth from space, floated in the breeze. It was the enduring symbol of the oneness of humanity.
Le had taken a vow of austerity, the same vow all public representatives took. But the basket Le was carrying was still heavy. It contained documents and a few personal belongings, including one special item tucked in the very bottom of her basket for Skylar –––– on the chance they might meet again. She carried it with her everywhere she traveled on her official duties as Speaker, but the most import things Le carried in her heart and mind. The documents in her basket were of little weight in comparison to her words. As a Speaker she was practiced in the art of remembering details. Her early work as a Keeper of stories had helped train her already sharp mind. Sometimes she wished she could forget things–––– it would be easier.
As Le walked down the long wharf her green robe fluttered open revealing her talking stick tucked into her belt. Stepping to the ground she knelt alongside the other travelers. She was greeted by the volunteers young and old who moving among them. They were passing out water for the little ceremonies taking place all around. Copies of The Universal Bill of Rights and Responsibilities were being passed around too, for those not already carrying them.
A young volunteer offered Le both. Le smiled and gestured her gratitude but she only accepted the water. She was already carrying a special copy of The Bill of Rights and Responsibilities, though as a Speaker she had committed it to memory.
Kneeling on the ground Le placed her talking stick in front of her. She poured a little of the water out onto the earth where she knelt, “To which we all belong,” she said simply.
Then she repeat the words she had said so many times, words that were being echoed around her by the other new arrivals:
“ Water, water cleanse my soul Make me peaceful, Make me whole
Water, water cleanse my mind Make me peaceful,
Make me kind”
After pouring some of the water on the ground she drank herself. The water tasted fresh and clean. It quenched her thirst. Replacing the stopper she added the bottle to her basket and waited, still kneeling, as was the custom.
An old man wearing a white robe and a golden armband approached her. He supported himself on a long talking stick of finely decorated wood with elaborately carved symbols. The handle of the staff was shiny from age and use.
“Welcome,” he gestured in Universal Sign Language.
Still kneeling, Le offered her talking stick to him with both hands. The stick could be used as a weapon but offering it upon arrival in a new community was a sign of peaceful intent and informed the guests about the traveler.
The old man looked closely at the symbols as he ran his weathered hands over its engraved surface. A large cat with a tail in the shape of a question mark wound itself around the old man’s feet.
“My name is Gaylord. May peace and love be with you,” his fingers moved gracefully through the gestures, despite his age.
The cat rubbed against Le’s legs, seemingly echoing the old gentleman’s greeting.
Le offer her hand, “I am Le.”
Taking her hand gently in his he assisted Le into a standing position. He placed her hand on his robe just above his heart, averting his eyes. In turn she took his hand and guided it to rest on the outside of her cloak, just above her own heart, which beat a little faster at the touch of a stranger.
Gaylord’s pulse remained steady, quietly keeping rhythm inside the cage of his ribs. He waited patiently for her pulse to slow, in this long important moment of non-action. Slowly Le’s heart returned to a steady beat–––– the universally understood signal to raise their gaze and meet again. But this time no longer as the strangers they were moments earlier.
The old man’s eyes were folded in the deep pockets of his aging face, but the centers twinkled with light as from a fire within. His strong nose jutted up like a mountain from the placid plane of his kind face. His large ears tuned into everything around him. Le had the strange thought that she had met him before? There was something familiar about him.
Gaylord’s long gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed and bound. Had he been standing completely upright Le would have had to look up to see his face. But age had brought him down–– closer to Earth. He appeared to be in perpetual motion of bowing with gratitude.
‘He must have been born sometime during the Great Change or right after it,’ Le thought.
He was born in one of the first colonies after the Great Change, a fact Le wouldn’t learn until later.
Grace’s door opened. Her mother Joyce poked her head in.
“How are you feeling Sweetie? I brought you some crackers and tea.”
“A little better I guess.”
The color raced out of Joyce’s face when she saw the book her daughter was reading.
“Where did that book come from?” Joyce asked in a voice that was a note too high.
“It was on my bed, after I got up and went to get a drink of water. I found it their. I thought maybe you had left it there for me.”
Joyce hurried over and set the crackers and tea on the table and seized the book from her daughter and closed the cover.
“You need your rest, and this isn’t going to help you get any.” Joyce said more sternly than she intended.
Joyce carried the heavy book to the dresser near the door. Then went back to feel her daughter’s forehead. “You are still warm.”
Joyce got a wet washcloth and laid it across Grace’s brow.
“This will help cool you off. I’ll check in on you a little later Sweetie.”
“Thanks Mom”
Joyce carried the big book out with her. As she shut the door she leaned her head against the outside.
‘How had the book gotten in there?’ Joyce wondered.
She eyed Plato who was looking up at her. “Did you have something to do with this?” Joyce asked the cat.
Plato just continued to look at her with his green eyes and twitch his tail from side to side, “tick-tock, tick- tock,” like the grandfather clock in the library.