DISGUISED AS A nerdy-looking college student (all I needed was a pair of glasses, a ratty knit hat, and some ironic facial hair), I hopped aboard Amtrak’s fastest train: the Acela Express from New York to Washington.
Just before the train was scheduled to depart, a very cute girl about my age (and also wearing glasses) worked her way up the aisle, which was crowded with passengers stowing luggage in the overhead racks. She had a small backpack slung over one shoulder and stopped when she reached my row.
“Excuse me,” she said with the most mellifluous voice I have ever heard, “but is that window seat taken?”
I quickly glanced around the train car. There were still plenty of empty seats—including whole rows that were completely vacant.
“No,” I said with a smile, moving in so she could take the aisle seat.
As she sat down, I realized there was something special about this girl. An aura. She seemed to glow with calm confidence.
“I hope you don’t mind sitting with me,” she said, smoothing out her skirt.
“Not at all.”
“I just thought you’d be a much more interesting travel companion than all these…” She lowered her voice to make sure no one could hear what she said next. “Business people.”
That made me laugh. “I hope so. I’m Daniel.”
“Mikaela,” she said, extending her hand for me to shake.
The instant I gripped it, I felt a warm tingle flowing through my body. It shot all the way down to my toes. Yeah. Mikaela was definitely something special.
“So, Daniel,” Mikaela said with a knowing grin, “where are you traveling?”
“Union Station, D.C. How about you?”
“The same.”
“Do you live there?”
“Not really.” It was kind of an odd answer, but she quickly reached into her backpack and pulled out a tattered and stained paperback. “Hey, have you ever read this? I found it at a flea market last weekend. Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. It’s from all the way back in 1961.”
“And it’s still one of my favorites,” I said, because it was. Stranger in a Strange Land tells the story of Valentine Smith, a human born on the planet Mars who comes to Earth after being raised by Martians. Smith has to figure out how to live with earthlings on what he considers a very odd planet; he is the stranger in a strange land. It’s probably the most famous science fiction novel ever written. It’s also, basically, my life story.
“I really love this word the author made up,” said Mikaela. “ ‘To grok.’ Do you know what ‘grok’ means, Daniel?”
“Sure. ‘To understand so thoroughly that the observer becomes a part of the observed,’ ” I said, quoting Heinlein’s novel from memory. “ ‘Grok’ is a Martian word that can’t really be fully translated into any language on Earth.”
“That’s right,” said Mikaela. “The closest we can come is ‘to drink in.’ Or maybe ‘merge’ or ‘blend.’ ”
The train pulled out of the station, but I barely noticed the passing scenery. I was too busy “drinking in” Mikaela.
Like I said, there was just something about her. An otherworldly tranquility.
She flipped through the musty pages of her paperback.
“On Mars,” she said, “water is scarce. When Martians drink, their bodies merge with the water, combining to make a new reality greater than the sum of its parts.”
“Right,” I said. “The water becomes part of the drinker, and the drinker part of the water. Both grok each other. There’s a duality.”
“Yes,” said Mikaela. “Dualism is a fascinating concept. One that might be good for you to remember.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Dualism. A state in which something has two distinct parts that are often opposites. For instance, the battle between good and evil.”
“Right. But, why did you say it might be good for me to remember?”
Mikaela smiled warmly. “Because it might be. Would you like a Sprite, Daniel?”
“Um, no.”
“I would. Excuse me. I’m going to the café car.” She stuffed her book back into her knapsack. “You’re sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Positive. Thanks.”
And then she headed up the aisle toward the rear of the train.
Mikaela never came back.
I didn’t see her again—not even when we arrived at Union Station and I scanned the crowd on the platform with my built-in face-recognition software.
Maybe she got off in Baltimore or Delaware.
Unfortunately, even though I had liked her instantly, I didn’t have time to worry about Mikaela, my stranger on a strange train.
I had places to be. Things to do. An evil alien to eliminate.
I also had two other girls to think about: Mel and Dana, who, I had recently learned, were one and the same.
Maybe that’s why Mikaela and her paperback had been sent into my life for fifteen minutes. To help me grok the “duality” of that.