Malik gazed at the clear blue sky, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of his dark skin absorbing the warm sunlight. The bubbling sound of water brought his eyes to the fountain. Malik stared at the stone figure sitting on top of four fish spitting water streams toward the four corners of the Earth. The sculptured man was leaning back, his face turned to the sky. One arm was by his side, his hand gripping a snake just under the jaw. The other arm was lifted higher but was broken off right below the shoulder. What are you looking at? Malik wondered as he inspected the nub. It appeared as though the statue was pointing at the object of his obsession in the sky. And rather than sharing the statue’s secret, someone destroyed the only clue.
Malik tried to follow the angle of the missing arm to a spot in the sky but was unsuccessful. He then shifted his gaze to the cobblestone path that connected the fountain to the estate’s beautiful building, Wortley Hall. This large two-story structure looked like most properties built by the British nobility of the time. It was made of sandstone, and the entrance was highlighted by massive pillars on each side and a large crest carved into the stone above the door.
A group of men were filing into the entranceway, shouting something that Malik couldn’t make out. Some men wore hard hats and clothes covered in black dust, while others wore rubber coveralls and matching rubber boots. Malik followed the men inside. They all gathered in one room and had turned their attention to a man standing at the front. The man was yelling, and as Malik watched, the man’s face turned red with passion and anger.
Malik stood back, intrigued by the rally until a flash of light in his periphery made him blink. He turned his head just in time to see the flowing tail of a dress vanish down the hall and around a corner. Malik pulled himself away from the workers’ rally to see what kind of trick his mind was playing on him this time. He wandered down the hall, briefly glancing at the portraits of aristocrats who once called this place home. Unsure of his path, he found himself in the most extensive library he’d ever seen. Malik spun in a slow circle, trying to take in everything. “How is this possible?” he whispered to himself. The library was three stories high, with books on every bookshelf and other books sporadically stacked in piles up to eye level. A lover of books, Malik was captivated by the sight until he heard a voice from behind him.
“Pardon me, Sir, may I be of some service?”
Malik turned to see a woman with soft, pale skin in a silver, flowing gown, with a large rose gold bow wrapped around her waist. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in an intricately braided style.
Malik opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“They are amazing, aren’t they?” the woman said as she motioned around the room toward the books. “Father insisted that I have as many books in this library as would fit. He was adamant that I feed my mind. It’s not always easy as a woman in this world. These books and the knowledge they hold will help me be heard.”
“Lady Mary,” a second woman’s voice came from the distance. They both turned to see who was coming. This woman had curly light brown hair, and she wore a less elegant dress, likely made of cotton and linen. “Who is your visitor?” the woman asked.
“Oh, Evelyn, that’s a good question,” Lady Mary said as she turned back to face Malik. This time, her face had changed. Her pale skin was now covered with large, bright red bumps. The skin around her eyes was red, and her eyebrows and eyelashes were gone.
Malik felt his heart rate and breath quicken. Lady Mary tilted her head and examined Malik. Evelyn, who was now standing next to Malik, said, “Why are you here?”
Malik couldn’t take his eyes off of Lady Mary. He tried to answer Evelyn, but again, he was speechless.
“Why are you here?” he heard Evelyn say again as he felt Lady Mary grab his wrist. He looked down and saw that the large red bumps blotting Lady Mary’s face also covered her arms and hands. Malik jerked back instinctively, but Lady Mary’s grip was more powerful than he expected.
“Why are you here?” Evelyn asked again.
Malik turned to face Evelyn. “I—I don’t know.” He jerked backward again to break free, and everything went black.
Malik opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He reached for his phone on the nightstand. It was just after three in the morning. Time to get up. He hated it when he couldn’t get a great night’s sleep, and his wild dreams were occurring much more frequently. Fortunately, today was a day he didn’t mind an early wake-up call. At the far end of his room, his clothes were laid out, and his pack was loaded and ready to go.
Malik had learned to enjoy long walks at an early age. His earliest memories of going for walks in the woods were when he was three or four years old. Now, it was ingrained in his psyche. If you have something on your mind you need to sort out, go for a walk. Let your conscious mind focus on getting exercise, and let your subconscious mind work on a solution to your problem. The more complicated the problem, the longer and more challenging the walk should be. Malik’s problem required a longer, more challenging hike than usual. He’d been working on an invention for most of his life, an innovation that could change the world and save billions of lives. Yet how was he going to be taken seriously? His innovation was unconventional. Without support and funding, Malik’s creation would never have a chance to do what it was meant to do.
When Malik’s subconscious mind needed time to sort out a problem, he would hike Springer Mountain in North Georgia. Springer Mountain marked the southern point of the two-thousand-plus miles of Appalachian Trail that ended in Maine. The majestic watercolor views of the Blue Ridge Mountains in autumn reminded Malik to appreciate the moment and everything he has. The mountains’ connection to the Appalachian Trail reminded him that it is his decision how far he will go. Malik packed enough essentials to spend a few days on the Appalachian Trail, just in case.
It was a beautiful day for a hike. Malik was surprised that he was the only one on the trail. He reached the campgrounds and shelter that marked the Southern Terminus when he noticed something strange. There was a large group of women wearing burkas and scarves, covering their faces. The crowd of women surrounded the shelter, and none of them had hiking packs or even water bottles. Malik navigated his way through the crowd and toward the wooden trail shelter. What used to be an open entrance to the shelter was now a large sheet that made a makeshift door. Malik pulled the sheet back. He was shocked to see that the log cabin he had expected had been replaced by stone walls. Each wall was designed with patterns of triangles, circles, stars, and other geometric figures that Malik had only seen in pictures or movie scenes of a mosque.
Malik didn’t know much about Islam, but he was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to be in a temple with just women. He waited for some backlash, but no one seemed to notice him, so he proceeded. This must be a dream. Then something familiar caught his eye. It was a silver, flowing dress. Lady Mary. He watched her walk through the mosque and out the back door. He followed her outside to a tent in the middle of a desert oasis, where she joined a large crowd of onlookers. Malik approached the woman. This time, she didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Lady Mary appeared different. Her eyebrows and eyelashes still hadn’t returned, but the large bumps that had covered her face were replaced with scars. Malik positioned himself next to Lady Mary, trying to see what she saw. On the stage, in front of the crowd, three women sat in a semicircle. One of the three had something in her hand. Malik moved closer and recognized a small needle.
To the side of the stage was a line with women holding young children. One at a time, each woman carried her child forward and knelt. She presented her child to two of the women, who held the child steady. The third woman turned her back to the crowd momentarily, then turned back to the child and looked at the mother expectantly. The mother touched her left forearm, and the woman poked the needle into the same place on the child’s forearm, almost like an injection. The mother and child then left the stage. This process happened repeatedly.
Malik moved through the crowd to get closer. He wanted to see what the lady with the needle was doing. As he got close, a fourth person was revealed. She was sitting next to the woman with the needle. The fourth woman was not wearing a scarf. Her back was facing the crowd, and her shoulders were exposed. Malik saw that her back was covered with the large red bumps he had seen on Lady Mary. The woman with the needle would puncture a sore on the woman’s back, then she would immediately puncture the skin of the child. Was this early inoculation?
“What are you doing here?” Malik heard a voice from behind him. He turned to see the woman with the curly light brown hair, now slightly longer than before.
“Evelyn,” Lady Mary said, rushing up and grabbing her shoulder. “Evelyn, are you seeing this? It’s unconventional, but brilliant. This could change the way we approach treatment if I can just help people see.”
Evelyn didn’t respond to Lady Mary. She continued to look at Malik. “You’ve seen enough!” Evelyn tugged Malik’s arm with force, and everything went black.
Malik opened his eyes again and found himself in his bedroom.