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(Jenny marveled that something as simple as a game could have so many layers of meaning and application. Somehow, in all the things she imagined the agent trainees being taught, this was definitely not in it. However, it made sense.
Thinking back, she remembered seeing the troopers play the game during their break time, when they had been preparing for the Groga assault, although at the time she had no idea it might be significant.
Obviously, the skills needed to do what Burt and other agents did required a different approach. She could even see why she could have found this kind of instruction useful in more than one situation.
She flipped through the journal. Much of it was daily notes on Lizzie’s progress and self-evaluation. Jenny had always thought of her aunt as being very confident, but remembering the stories others had told her, and now seeing into Lizzie’s personal thoughts, made her realize that she had learned her lessons of projecting emotions well, even though she seemed to think herself deficient. Jenny read on...)
Classes, workouts, and daily challenges to what Lizzie thought she knew and understood about science, life, and the various personalities she dealt with continue to challenge her.
Slowly but surely, she was beginning to think of her podmates as friends, rather than simply people she worked with. She began to recognize the quirks and talents that differed so much from one to another and yet seemed to enhance the overall experience for everyone. However, she could not have honestly said she felt particularly close to them. She was used to thinking of herself as an outsider, and the feelings persisted.
She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she found herself homesick from time to time, especially at the end of the day when things got quiet in the pod as various ones were settling into their beds for a well-deserved rest.
As she lay in her bed, she drifted into remembrances of walking along the beach near the pier, shopping in the farmer’s market, or even hanging out with Thumble in the lab as she had worked Gaston’s assignments. She was beginning to realize that the diverse types of assignments were to see if she would be fit for this crazy patchwork of learning experiences in the Alliance Agent Training Center.
Therefore, just over two months into the training, she had been excited to hear that it was “holiday time.” Lall explained to the trainees during their evening formation that starting the next day there would be periodic opportunities to go home and communicate with friends and family and take a short break. Evidently, Gaston would be picking her up and escorting her through the gate for a weeklong leave and would return her to the next stage of her training after it had passed.
The next morning, her things packed conveniently into her MDP, she watched Gaston stride across the training ground to greet her happily. “Do you have anything in mind for your time off?” he asked her. As usual, his bird bright eyes were dancing with just the slightest bit of mischief.
“I thought I’d spend some time on the beach, and of course I’ll want to phone my family. Don’t fancy a visit, not really. And I think I might buy a gift or two for some of my podmates. Don’t know if they celebrate birthdays here or not, but it can’t hurt to have something on hand that comes from Earth.”
“They’d probably like that, I’ll bet. So, connecting with family, some shopping, feeding up on Earth food, and just relaxing? Sounds like a good plan,” Gaston agreed.
They entered through the gate on the hill above the Alliance headquarters city and came out through the Sanglarka gate. Lizzie was surprised by this. She had expected to exit into the Los Angeles gateroom.
“The Earth guardians and the training staff wanted to treat you to a little celebration before we head home,” Gaston said, with a twinkle in his voice and a mischievous grin on his face.
There in front of them were the entire Sanglarka crew and all the other gate guardians, all smiling like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Welcome home,” said Grenheim, gesturing around him. To his right and left, every face was smiling welcomingly. Miriha stepped forward. “We hear good things about you from your trainers,” she sent, gesturing to Meta, whom Lizzie hadn’t noticed standing slightly behind Miriha.
Meta beamed. “I think it is safe to say that Lizzie isn’t disappointing any of us. Our hopes for her seem well merited.”
Grenheim gestured to all of them to follow him up the path to the lodge, and Lizzie felt very welcome and warm even before they stepped into the inviting lobby. He led the way into the now familiar dining room. He pointed to the seat next to his at the head of the table, and everyone immediately found seats and waited expectantly.
Livia had not joined them but had gone through the swinging kitchen doors and returned with a cart laden with the standard Sanglarka fare. Fluffy home-baked rolls and all of the condiments anyone might care to add, including Livia’s famous lingonberry jam and fresh churned butter, were placed along the center length of the large table. Tureens filled with soup and stew, sitting on a warming tray, stayed on the cart.
They sat quietly for a moment, as was their custom, heads bowed. When everyone had looked up, Grenheim passed a basket of rolls to Lizzie. “Enjoy!” he sent, as he ladled a large helping of stew into his own bowl from one of the tureens on the cart next to him. Livia pushed the cart around the table, and each ladled their choice of soup or stew into their bowls and began to eat.
It was so delicious, and such a delightful change from the more mundane food at the training center. Each of the guardians took it in turn to congratulate her on getting this far in the program. They had their own stories to tell.
Many went back for extra helpings, and by the time more and more of them were pushing their plates and bowls back and leaning back in their chairs, Lizzie was feeling very warm and at home.
Miriha finally stood and addressed the group, smiling warmly at each of them. “It is always such a treat to spend time with the Earth guardians on occasions like this. When Gaston first introduced me to Lizzie, I had a strong feeling that she would be a perfect fit for the agent position and potentially more, over time. Lizzie, we are all very pleased at the effort you consistently put into everything you do. Your instructors—including Professor Baird, if you would like to know—report that you have the makings of one of the best Earth agents we have had in a long time.
“The next stage of your journey will be much more exciting as you begin to get some hands-on opportunities to meet many more beings from the vast starscape of the multiverse. On the opposite side of that training, you will discover things, hidden within your own depths, that you never suspected. Each of us looks forward to following your adventures on this journey.
“When things get difficult—and they will—please remember there are many of us who are rooting for you. We carry you in our thoughts and hearts.”
She walked around the end of the table to stand next to Lizzie’s chair and gestured for her to stand. Lizzie did, and Miriha enfolded Lizzie in a gentle hug.
Lizzie had never been a “hugger,” but coming from Miriha, this was so encouraging and so natural that she didn’t even feel embarrassed by it.
And before she knew it, every single one of them had stood and each took a turn giving her hugs.
“Now,” Gaston said, “You are properly launched into your holiday. You can sleep here tonight or go directly to the L.A. gate. Which would you prefer?”
“I would like to spend the day here, as there seems to be only a little daylight left, and then leave for L.A. in the morning,” Lizzie replied, realizing it would be good to catch up with all of these people. She looked forward to hearing more of their own stories about the training process.
The remaining afternoon passed genially in the lobby area on the big squishy chairs ranged around the fireplace. Supper was a casual affair, as Livia had prepared a buffet with both a chilled area for a salad bar and a steam-tray area for several different heated dishes that seemed to hail from all over the globe. Lizzie, now used to eating exotic dishes, tried a taste of just about everything.
Before bed, some of them got out various musical instruments and performed some native music for the rest. Lizzie had never learned to play an instrument, but she loved music. She was especially impressed with a small wooden box with a range of steel prongs sticking out from a fret-type board played by Yaw.
“It is an mbira,” Yaw explained, when Lizzie asked him about it. “This one has three octaves, but there are simpler ones. You can play pretty much anything on it from classical...” and he plucked the opening stanza of “Ode to Joy” “... to rock and roll,” and he played a quick version of “Sh-boom.”
“That’s amazing. I wish I had some kind of musical talent. I’ve never had any music lessons in my life, but that doesn’t look very hard, and it has a lovely sound.”
Yaw chuckled, and out of his MDP he invoked a second box, this one with only seventeen keys on it.
“A gift,” he said simply. “I learned to play on one very similar to this. We’ve taught our primates to play them, so I’m pretty sure it is within your reach.” And he handed it to her.
“I don’t know what to say,” she began, but he cut her off with a wave and a smile.
“Just play it. You don’t even need to play a recognizable tune to have it soothe you and give joy to those around you.”
Lizzie timidly plucked a key with her thumb as she had seen Yaw do and was delighted at the quiet ringing note. It was a peaceful sound. She continued to randomly pluck various keys, delighting in the round tone of the notes.
“Thank you so much. I will gladly use it during break times to calm my nerves. I may even learn to play a song or two.”
“That would make me very happy. Next time you come back to join us, you and I can play together.”
Lizzie pulled the beautiful shawl out of her MDP that she had been given in Switzerland what seemed an age ago and carefully wrapped the mbira in it and returned them both into her MDP.
It seemed no time before the lights came on in the lobby, and many began to yawn and stretch. Lizzie remembered that they all came from various time zones on the planet, and for some of them it was very far past their bedtime.
She bade them all goodnight, as she assumed they were all politely waiting for her to retire before doing so themselves. The chorus of goodnights sent her up the stairs to her room feeling the warm delight of welcome and realizing that she had done much more than become an agent for the Alliance. She had acquired a new family.
The next morning, they celebrated with a traditional Sanglarka breakfast of rye crackers, eggs, and cheese and one by one they departed for their various gate responsibilities across the Earth. Miriha had gone in the night to receive them, as all of them had to travel through the Gatekeeper’s gate to get to another Earth gate.
“Gates within a planetary gate system cannot connect directly with one another,” Miriha had explained to her. “You can travel from any Earth guardian’s gate to just about anywhere else in the multiverse, but for some reason none of a planet’s gates connect with one another. This means, to get from Sanglarka to any other gate on Earth, you must come through my gateroom first.”
Finally, Grenheim and the Sanglarka staff saw her and Gaston through the gate. They didn’t come out through the beach gate, but instead were transported directly to the gateroom outside Miriha’s office, where they walked down the hallway to another door.
When they walked through the door from the gateroom through the gate office and into the hall of the little house on Infinity Loop, Gaston called out, “Nita, we’re home!”
Nita came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, apparently unsurprised. Of course, she would have had to know something of what Gaston did, Lizzie mused. After all, she had been with him for a very long time.
“Lizzie! So good to see you. I’m pretty sure you’ve already had breakfast. What do you have planned for today?”
“Planned? Hmm. I hadn’t really thought much about it.”
At that point, Tidbit wandered into the living room, Thumble riding delightedly on his back.
“Lizzie home? Thumble glad. Missed you,” he said in his soft mind voice.
“I missed you too, Thumble. I’ll be here for a few days, though, before I go back to training.”
“Lizzie will be brilliant in training. Lizzie will win all the prizes!” Thumble enthused.
“We’re glad to see you back,” Tidbit intoned. “Training as an agent is challenging, to say the least. I hear you are doing well.”
Lizzie had a hard time, looking at Tidbit and recalling how large and imposing he was in his native shape. The cat, although he had the obvious cat-like attitude, especially with those large golden eyes, was only a little less intimidating. She wondered how he managed that.
“Thank you, Tidbit. I’m trying to do my best.”
“It’s all anyone would expect of you, Lizzie.” Tidbit replied, a bit stiffly, Lizzie thought.
“Well, I suppose I’d like to go back to the lab for a few days. Would it be all right while I’m there if I make a few long-distance calls?”
“Of course,” Gaston said, grinning at her. “You’ve earned it, for sure. Do you want alone time, or would it be all right for me to stop in for our usual lunches?”
“I would love that, Gaston. But, yes, I think I need some thinking time. I’ll probably run out to the beach a few times before the week is out, as I miss it a lot. Your policy of my taking regular time out had me looking forward to beach time, and the closest body of water to the training center is several miles away—some kind of river, or so I hear.”
“Ah, yes... I remember. So, you’ve already have had a great breakfast, but here it is late afternoon. I doubt you’re tired, as I know your body clock has gotten used to a much longer rhythm. Is there somewhere you would like to go or something you would like to do before I take you to your place?”
“No, I think I’m good. If Thumble wanted to come along, that would be fine. I’ve kind of missed him.”
Thumble nodded his tiny fuzzy head enthusiastically.
“So, Nita, I’ll be back around suppertime. Let’s keep it light. I’m afraid those rye crackers fill me up, especially when I add Livia’s famous lingonberry jam to them,” Gaston said, patting his stomach.
Nita nodded happily, hugged Lizzie, and turned back to the kitchen, humming as she went.
Lizzie realized she felt very at home in this little house and hoped that, once she started her agent duties, she would still get the opportunity to visit here often.
When they arrived at the lab after a long commute due to freeway traffic, Lizzie thanked Gaston, who waved to her as he backed out of the parking lot. She climbed the stairs, fished her keys out of the MDP, and opened the door to her little apartment with a satisfied sigh.
She let Thumble out of his basket. He was humming the same tune that Nita had been back at the house. All in the apartment was as she had left it, but surprisingly there wasn’t a coating of dust, as she had expected might be the case. Evidently Gaston or perhaps Nita had been in, from time to time, to clean.
There wasn’t really anything to do, at the moment, as she had already read the books on her bookshelf, so she got her mbira out of the MDP and decided to see what she could do with it. She had been wanting to try it since Yaw had given it to her, but so far had not had any quiet time to do so. She really hadn’t wanted to fumble around with it in front of anyone. That would have been embarrassing.
She plucked some of the keys tentatively with her thumb and enjoyed the lovely ringing tones she remembered. She tried doing some scales, alternating from side to side from one thumb to another. Even simple scales made calming music from this tiny instrument. It was hardly bigger than both of her hands laid flat side by side and yet the tones that came from it were rich and almost haunting.
Lizzie really didn’t know much about music. She did enjoy listening to a very eclectic mix of styles and types but had never really had the energy or the time to really study it. She decided that one of the errands she would undertake during her break was to see if any of the music stores in the area might have an instructional manual to help her on her way. In the meantime, she decided to see if she could pluck out a few simple tunes.
After about an hour she had figured out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Three Blind Mice” and could play them haltingly from memory. Surprisingly, Thumble found this very interesting and began to hum with her delightedly as she played. She felt like she could get to like this, and for some reason it reminded her of all of the strange assignments Gaston had given her while she served her initial apprenticeship in the lab.
She had a niggling theory that was beginning to take shape, but it was still in embryo. Her curiosity had launched her into something that she was beginning to feel was way over her head, and that this break time, with no assignments to worry about, might help her to begin to put those ideas together somehow.
By the time she had tired of efforts on the mbira, she realized that it was twilight. She decided on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some hot cocoa, to get some early sleep. She was going to make an early day of it tomorrow.
She surprised herself by falling asleep quickly, with Thumble happily resting on the pillow next to hers.
“Would you like to come with me on my errands in your wicker carrier or would you rather I let you loose in the lab today?” she asked Thumble as soon as she arose in the morning.
“Let’s go, Lizzie. Thumble will be good and peek out from inside the basket. Not make noise or scare anybodies,” he piped up cheerfully. “Will we go shopping?”
“Probably. I’ll pack us a lunch and we can eat on the beach. Does that sound good?”
Thumble nodded his little head enthusiastically.
Off they went on her bicycle, first to a music store, which just happened to have the book she needed. It turned out that the mbira was also known as a kalimba or “thumb piano,” and there was quite a bit of music and instruction on how to play it. The store owner had been delighted to hear that she was learning.
“It’s nice because it is even more portable than a guitar. And unlike a flute or recorder, it doesn’t require breath control. Let me know if you ever need it tuned. They can go off tune by tiny increments. I can even show you how to do it yourself, if you’d like,” she said with a grin. “I don’t often get people in here who even know it exists.”
From the music store, she stopped in at the farmer’s market, one of Thumble’s favorite places. True to his word, he didn’t hum or make any noises when they were out, but from time to time, he would comment in mindspeech about the people he saw around him and the various displays at the market, especially the areas where they were selling fresh fruit.
Lizzie bought a pineapple to share with him, and some really sweet-tasting green grapes the stall-keeper had let her try. She also found some of her favorite homestyle strawberry jam that she resolved to store in her MDP for use at the training center. Now that she had sampled the food there, she realized that her MDP would allow her to take along some home comforts that weren’t otherwise available.
She carried a netted cloth shopping bag, deciding that trying to put her purchases furtively into her MDP might be problematic, and she wasn’t planning on really loading up this time. She would save it for the day before her holiday was over.
Thumble kept up rambling mindspeech chatter about all of the people and things they passed on their journey. It was entertaining, to say the least, to hear his opinions about what he saw, or thought he was seeing. Occasionally, he would ask questions about what something was or how it was used.
“What that does?” he asked about a refrigerator holding various meats. Lizzie patiently explained the need for refrigeration. “Why not just eat it when it is fresh?” he queried, puzzlement obvious in his voice. “Meat eaters kill and then eat. That’s what they do. Why wait?”
He had a hard time grasping the idea that the meat eaters, specifically humans, on this planet didn’t kill their own meat generally, and the whole idea of storage was definitely foreign to him. He confessed he had wondered about the refrigerator in Gaston’s house and Lizzie’s apartment but had never gotten around to asking about it.
Evidently, where he had come from, there were few meat eaters, and his kind avoided them as much as possible, for fear they might be on the menu.
As far as Lizzie could discern from Thumble’s stories from his past, his species were gatherers, as they lived in a climate and ecological system where fruit and edible plants were abundant year-round. The idea of farming had been a revelation when Gaston had explained it to him, and he had been fascinated when Nita would go out into the garden to tend the herbs and other plants there.
Evidently, Gaston had obtained Thumble during one of his training trips as an Alliance agent. While on Thumble’s home planet, Thumble had hitchhiked to Earth in Gaston’s backpack. When Gaston had offered to take him back, Thumble had demurred. He liked Gaston and found Earth fascinating. “Earthers are funny. Fruit here is good, and my home has no ‘rocking roll,’” he had explained.
Lizzie enjoyed his company, especially now that they could communicate.
After the farmer’s market, Lizzie decided to take the bus to Belmont Pier. During the work week and on a cloudy day like today, it wouldn’t be crowded, and she could have the quiet she needed. There were still so many unanswered questions, and she was beginning to realize that she had to answer the most important ones for herself.
As she stepped off the bus, she inhaled deeply. There was something immediately soothing about the clean salt air of a beach. As she strolled down the paved path down to the beach, she was delighted to find it almost deserted. Most other people would be hard at work.
At the end of the path, she paused to take off her shoes. She needed to feel the sand under her feet.
The surf on this beach was gentle, due to the breakwaters that had been created to protect the navy’s Pacific fleet during the war, so the surf was not so loud as on many beaches on either side. Nevertheless, the sounds of the water lapping the shore, the seabirds wheeling and crying, and the feel of the gentle breeze was so very soothing.
She looked around and noticed no one close enough to see what she was doing. She installed her net shopping bag into her MDP and pulled a large beach towel out to sit on and a small picnic basket. She sat the wicker travel basket on the towel next to her. The picnic basket shaded the small wicker basket without blocking the view of the beach for Thumble.
“I need to think for a bit,” she told Thumble. “I will be sitting here quietly. If you have questions, please wait for a bit. We’ll have some lunch later, but before then, would you like a snack? I brought an apple and some crackers.”
Thumble agreed that a snack would be nice and didn’t speak or hum as he ate happily.
Looking around again to be sure there was no one within sight, she took her mbira out of the MDP and settled herself, plucking the keys randomly. She had learned to play a few simple tunes so far, but she found the random tones soothing. She had discovered that interacting with the mbira helped her to think. She noticed that Thumble was humming happily along, as if he recognized a melody in her tuneful doodling.
As her mind calmed, she found herself returning to the question that continued to plague her waking hours and even her dreams. Without thought she stopped playing the instrument in her lap. What was she really doing? She had made a commitment to a very specific course of action without knowing all of the facts, which was very unlike her. She didn’t think of herself as an impulsive person.
People with ordered minds didn’t just jump at new opportunities. And yet she had. Why was that? She didn’t feel the fervor she had noticed in her podmates. The more she learned in the agent training program, the more she wondered if she would ever really be as urgently committed as they seemed to be.
She remembered back when her dad had joined the navy, and the light of determination and energy that was in his eyes. He was committed, signing a blank check to his country up to and including his life, if necessary. He hadn’t hesitated and had never once indicated he doubted his decision.
Her mother had been in total sync with that decision and proudly displayed the small, red-edged flag with the blue star in her window, announcing to all passersby that her husband was serving her country.
But this wasn’t like that... or was it?
She would have given anything to have the fire in her eyes she had seen in her parents during that time, but she wasn’t feeling it. She still felt, as she always had, distant and aloof from her fellow beings, human and alien, as if she were observing their lives from far away. She had never actually had a close friend; and although she loved her family members, it was almost as if someone had turned the volume down on her ability to feel deeply.
Was this how it was always going to be? Am I doomed to see, to analyze, but never to feel the deep connection I observe in the people around me? Even though she had been warmly welcomed by the Earth guardians and others in the Alliance, she still didn’t feel as connected to them as she thought she ought to.
She did feel a loose link, but nothing that she would mourn for long if it should be severed for any reason. And her studies in the Alliance were not driven by any intense feelings of loyalty to their cause, only by the commitment she had made. Regardless of her feelings, she would keep her word.
As she considered, she continuously ran the grains of sand on the beach next to her through one hand. The action was soothing, almost mesmerizing. As she did so, she found herself focusing on the individual grains. Although on the surface the beach appeared to be made of white sand, she noticed that many of the miniscule grains were actually of various shades of yellow, orange, and even red, not enough to dilute the overall coloring of the beach.
Am I like one of these little colored grains? So different and yet mixed into the background of the billions of pale grains that surround me? So many questions. It’s like an addictive drug, this need to know. Why can’t I feel the same way about the people around me?
She sighed heavily, and to her surprise she felt Thumble’s tiny warm hand on her arm. She looked over to see the little fellow looking at her intently with those huge dark eyes.
“Lizzie is okay? Lizzie is hurting on the inside? Thumble feels your hurting.” The soft mind voice was tender, and she felt his intention, one of the valuable things about this particular method of communication. She could tell that Thumble actually cared about what she was feeling and had identified more clearly what she was feeling than she had herself.
“I’m going to be okay, Thumble. I just am worried that maybe I’m not doing what I should. I know I need to keep my promise to the Alliance, but I don’t know if it is the right thing for me.”
“Maybe it will be the right thing for you when your whole heart decides to do it?” he sent, still patting her arm softly.
“Oh, Thumble,” she replied, realizing as she did so that tears were coursing down her cheeks, “Do I really have a heart?”
Thumble crept over to her and touched one of the tears on her cheek. “Lizzie’s heart is on her face,” he said simply.
At this Lizzie broke down and sobbed, Thumble continuing to gently pat her arm. She cried for a long time.
Then, straightening, she looked around her. The beach was still mostly deserted. Far down the beach an elderly man in a broad sun hat was strolling along the water line away from her, but other than that, in either direction there was nothing but her, Thumble, and the wheeling gulls.
What’s gotten into me? she wondered. She replaced the mbira into her MDP and fished out a sandwich and some chips from the picnic basket, along with some of the sweet grapes she had bought at the farmer’s market for Thumble. There was also a bottle of somewhat warm lemonade, as the ice had melted, but it was good, nevertheless, to sit and eat in silence, absorbing the calmness that waterscapes always gave her. She remembered days at Lake Cachuma with her family.
Probably her favorite activity in those days was to sit out on the pier, a fishing line dangling into the water. She didn’t generally care much whether she caught anything or not. It was the environment she craved.
She did actually catch a turtle on her line once, however. The poor thing had been injured as the hook had caught between the shell and its front leg. She had taken it home to nurse it back to health and had dubbed it Snag. It had lived a happy life hiding out in the ivy along the back fence, emerging to eat fallen hibiscus flowers or various veggies they left out for it.
Lizzie and Thumble finished their lunch, and she decided it was time to head back home. “What did I accomplish here today?” she asked herself as she put the remains of their lunch back into the picnic basket and settled Thumble back into his wicker transport. She didn’t have any answers... yet.
