copyright AH 1998

Chapter 1

The best part about the coffee house on Jenkin Street was that it inspired thought. Because of its location near the center of the campus, one could be assured of seeing a great variety of interesting people walk by. Many of these people would come in, and of them, a few would be staying long enough to talk. Any number of magazines littered the tables; each had been worn such that they seemed to be ancient and and not the week or so old that they really were, and coffee stains marked them each distinctly as owned by a coffee house. Some of the students boasted that they could tell which coffee house owned a particular magazine based on their familiarity with all of the Java stores around.    One such person who delighted in such pseudo-investigation had the name of Jay. Jay was well-liked by his peers. He had sandy brown hair and hazel colored eyes and a soft smile. He always wore his soft smile and rarely displayed anything else. The casual acquaintance would have been surprised to learn that Jay had ever been angry. Even his closest friends would not have been able to recall something as extreme as a loud laugh.     But that was just the kind of thing that made him likable. As far as anyone knew, Jay was never angry and was always happy, or at least entirely pleasant. Some of his extroverted friends enjoyed the fact that he never attempted to steal the show from them. His introverted friends felt that in him there was a kindred spirit. In the end, however, any analysis of Jay would have come to the conclusion that he was actually quite plain.

No human is 'quite plain' however. Every human is a swirl of thoughts and feelings and idea. The 'plain' person, like Jay, develops a special camouflage.    Jay actually had a lot to hide from his friends. His friends were the embodiment of the stereotypical Midwesterner. They were sons and daughters of farmers or perhaps some other small businessmen. They grew up mostly in small town atmospheres, and clung to Midwestern values. Among these tightly held values was the value that there was a God and that only heathenistic immoral individuals thought otherwise.    

    And like the typical Midwesterner, one would not be able to discern that there was anything different from them and the heathenistic immoral atheist that they despised. Jay was that atheist, and he knew what judgment his friends would decree if they ever found out the truth. Jay need not be concerned. His friends were hardly evangelistic, only moralistic. They could not understand how people could disbelieve in God, but they did not care about the issue enough to do more than condemn.   Jay, sure in his lack of belief, did not feel any overt need to evangelize. In fact, Jay was confident that after undergoing the university experience most of his friends would become atheistic. The university was intent on pursuing truth, and once his friends had been exposed to the truth enough, their belief would slowly wither away to nothing. Jay knew of course that this nothingness would never be strong enough to overcome the sense of security that childhood values had provided for most of them, but there would be exceptions.

   Jay was sitting with his friends in the coffee house. The mug was nestled in his hand. The warmth of it was perfect, in his opinion. It was hot enough that it hurt just a little to hold, prompting him to shift it from hand to hand, warming each in turn. He raised it to his lips, careful not to take more than a sip yet.   

"Dr. Ehl is mean!" declared Joe. "I have to read forty pages tonight! I heard there might be a quiz. It's not like I don't have papers due, too!"   

"Believe it or not, Joe, but Dr. Ehl is a lightweight. Last semester I had Classical Mythology with Pea, and we had a book list to read through. We eventually read eight books. We figured out that it was on average 60 pages a night, with a review due every Friday. Very tough." The speaker was Leigh. Leigh was a strong man, dark-haired and friendly, he was dominating.   

"I have Pea next semester," Joe sighed loudly. "I'm not looking forward to him."   Jay  put his mug on his knee. The heat warmed a circle on his jeans.

"I thought he was easy," Jay remarked casually.   

"It was just time consuming," Leigh muttered defensively. Leigh thumbed through a magazine that was at the table when they had sat down. Jay couldn't read what it was but it had a colorful cover; a skateboarder was highlighted in wiggly lines against the dynamic colors.    

May glanced up from the notebook splayed out before her. "Who do you think is the toughest prof you've had, Leigh?"   

"That depends on what you mean, you know? There were some that were easy, but frustrating, you know?" Leigh bent the top corner of a page in the magazine before he laid it back down. "Pea was hard, but he was a good guy. Kayvo, though- she was stupid." Jay's ears perked up at that one. He put his mug on the table and leaned forward a little. Kayvo was the philosophy professor. She was very intelligent and he didn't understand how anyone could find her stupid. "The whole class was out of this boring book, and it was like, all arguments against God and stuff like that, you know? I just didn't learn anything."

"How did that make her stupid?" inquired Joe.

"I guess its just one thing to teach that stuff and another to take it seriously, that's all," Leigh said with finality. He picked up the magazine and returned to the place he had marked.

"I can see that," Joe concurred.

"I thought Pea was my hardest professor," May said before returning to her notebook.

"I'm not looking forward to Pea at all," Joe said wearily.

"I've gotta go," Jay said softly. "I've got class and a paper to write."

"all right, Jay. See ya in the lounge tonight?"

"Sure Joe. But I have to work in the theater for a while until Nicci shows up. I'm just covering for him for a little while. After that, though," Jay replied. Jay snagged his bag and shucked it over his shoulders. He linked his forefinger through the handle of his empty, cooling mug and strided for the door. He placed the mug gently in the dish pan just to the left of the door- even so there was the clink of china- and pushed through the door. The autumn breeze greeted him immediately. He liked the autumn breeze. He did not enjoy the gusts of winter so much, but autumn was pleasant. He walked the few blocks to the site of the classroom. His thoughts wandered from hopes that Nicci would give him a ride home the upcoming weekend to fears that his paper will be ill-researched. He found himself looking down for part of his journey, watching the cracks in the sidewalk whiz by as if he were in an air plane watching the farms below whiz by.

This allowed him to nearly hit a girl coming along the same path. He hurriedly apologized but was too embarrassed to look at her and he immediately regretted not even looking to see if she was attractive. He comforted himself with the fact that if she had been attractive he would have been even more embarrassed. He was thinking about his desperate lack of companionship when he reached the heavy clear doors indicating the his destination had been reached. He swung his heavy bag into the door, leaning his body up against the bag just when it would have been swinging back, thus making his entry into the building more efficient than it would have been otherwise.

Sometimes he thought about strange things like how to efficiently open a door, but he prided himself for being able to be wiser and more efficient than his friends. At least he was a thinker. The beige tiles passed by beneath his gaze. The heavy oak door to the classroom had to be opened in a more traditional way. He found a seat near the back of the small auditorium. It wasn't too crowded yet but he knew that it would soon fill to capacity. Once the school year began and the freshmen started exercising their new freedoms more, it would thin out until test days. Until then, however, he knew that the classroom would be stuffy before the end of the class period so even though it was slightly chilly right then, he took off his coat and laid it beneath his chair. It would be too cramped to do so once class started, at least too cramped to do so without drawing attention to himself.

Jay was at last comfortable. Leaning on one elbow, his pen served as a link from his hand to his mouth. As he bit softly, unconsciously, on his pen, he thought eagerly about Dr. Em. Dr. Em, in his opinion, was brilliant. He was witty and knowledgeable and beautifully blunt. Student criticism was elicited for the one purpose of destroying it. Sometimes, Jay thought, it was really unfair to bait students so, but it was fun to watch. Jay wished he could do the same thing.

Dr. Em finally entered the room. He had a swagger about him, not so much that would have him superficially labeled as arrogant, but noticeable to those that knew him. Perhaps it was just sheer self-confidence but for many students who ventured passed superficiality to get to know him, it was in reality arrogance. It was just barely cloaked. "Welcome, students," Dr. Em began in his rough voice. "Today is the fifth time we've met to study cultural anthropology. I expect-" here he leaned forward, "That all of you have read the required reading for the day." Dr. Em was smiling, but there was a true sense that he was intoning a threat. Jay had read the required reading, so he harbored no fears. Dr. Em looked down at his papers. After shuffling them a moment he looked back up at the room filled with students and set the papers aside.

"Ladies and gentlemen and those in between... a necessary addition these days..." he flashed a winsome smile, "Today we are continuing our discussion about language. Last session we talked about cultural biases that prevent us from studying language objectively. Who can recall some of those biases for us today?" Dr. Em called on a few students and congratulated them for their correct answers. Jay always had the answers too, but never felt comfortable raising his hand. "That's right, that's right. One example you left out, however, is the cultural insensitivity concerning 'black English.' No one upbraids the immigrant for speaking their mother tongue. By the set of definitions we established last session, there is no reason to consider a dialect as sub-language since it accomplishes the same things at a comparable level of complexity." Dr. Em paused for a moment before going on. He scanned the room searching for any reactions. There simply didn't seem to be any, so he continued.

"Once a bias is recognized, it can be removed. If it is not removed, if it remains even though it has been rendered illogical; then, I would argue, the person who holds it should not expect ever to attain intellectual honesty. I would not trust such a person. I would not argue with such a person. Integrity is important to me, and it should be to you as well." Jay looked up, fearing, perhaps, that Dr. Em was looking at him. His own duplicity was apparent to him; was it to everyone? Dr. Em had actually turned toward the chalkboard and was busy sketching out a diagram. All around Jay were the backs of students busily encoding into their notes the diagram on the board. Finally Dr. Em turned back to face the students. "Know this diagram for the test," he commanded. Dr. Em moved to his podium.

"Glottochronology is one method for dating the divergences in languages. In your book there is a fairly adequate discussion regarding it. Read it for the test. I would like to discuss something else, however, that you can think about. "Last session we talked about how the primates have a system of communication that is largely gestural. The sounds they make seem to express emotions. The concluding thought of that class period was that among Homo Sapiens, sounds have come to be used to express emotions and concepts. When that happened is still unclear. However, today I call your attention to the fact that humans still use gestures. Can anyone tell me what possible significance that might be? Anyone?" Dr. Em paused before again repeating, "Anyone?"   Jay knew exactly what Dr. Em was getting at. This was the third time that he had taken a class taught by Dr. Em, and he was well aware of the direction this question was going. It was another example of student baiting, for certain. Jay wondered if anyone was going to take the bait. Jay looked around wondering if anyone was intelligent enough to make the connection as he did.

"Hello?" bellowed the doctor. "Is there anybody out here? Or..." Dr. Em flashed a sinister grin, "Is it possible you do understand the connection and are unwilling to accept it?" Student's heads began to look up from their notebooks. One hand slowly raised up. "At last!" shouted Dr. Em. "A man of courage!" Dr. Em bounded from the podium, up the aisle within a few feet of the student. "Yes! Yes! Yes, what is the connection?"  

The student smiled bashfully, his cheeks became flushed, "I was just wondering if you could repeat the question?"   

Dr. Em erupted: "Repeat the question? Were you here? The discussion was the question! What have you been writing down? Come on now, you Midwestern farm hands, what's the connection? Where am I going with this? The primates have gestures but very little spoken language. Humans have spoken language but still have gestures. What's the connection?"    By this point Dr. Em had paraded back to the podium where his own cheeks had become flushed with frustration. At last another hand went up. Dr. Em glared at the hand, following the arm to the shoulder and then searching the face to make sure that this questioner wasn't also a fool.     "Yes?" Dr. Em muttered.    

"I think it's evidence for evolution," the student said simply. Jay was among the dozen or so students who turned to look at the speaker. It was a female, and fairly attractive by Jay's analysis. She was calm and confident, her hair just brushing her shoulders. Jay realized that everyone else had turned to face the front again and turned quickly- too quickly- back toward the professor. He was sure she had noticed. He envisioned that she had seen him and thought him adolescent. His ears had to be red and those would be telltale. He tried hard to enter again into the class discussion and put the whole thing out of his mind.   Dr. Em had agreed enthusiastically and was already in the midst of his discussion before Jay actually was again comprehending the words.  

"Excellent, excellent. What is you name, please?" Dr. Em was asking.  

"Leslie," she said sharply. Jay perceived that it was almost rudely spoken. 

"Well Leslie, thank you for your insights. You'll apologize if I wonder why it was not so quickly grasped by your peers, but I know the type of people who are here," Dr. Em paused a moment to do a reaction check, and again finding none, launched into another spiel.    After class was over Jay waited for people to clear out in hopes that Leslie would leave and he would not run into her. When he was sure that she had left he at last gathered his stuff and stood up. He stepped into the aisle, brushing up against students who were filing passed.    

"I'm sorry," said one when the impact was such that one expected a courtesy apology. Jay had been looking down at the time, but froze a few steps later when he realized that the speaker had been the girl, Leslie. He turned. Leslie had gone and was talking with Dr. Em. Jay was envious. He could never just go up and talk to a professor. He turned and left the classroom, wondering if he could ever just go up and talk to a girl. The autumn breeze met him outside, and it followed him to dinner, and then to the theater. Finally he came home to the his softly lit apartment and sat down to contemplate life.

Chapter Two

Jay slumped into his couch. He unconsciously gazed about the room, studying various aspects of it. He noticed for the first time that there was some sort of a paint stain underneath the TV cart. There was a glass shard near that, and that led his eyes to notice the slight darkening around the edges of the electrical outlet. He wondered if that might indicate a larger problem. He was thinking about possible reasons for the darkening when Joe walked into the room. Joe had the mail and Jay was instantly curious about whether or not there was mail for him. Joe said nothing, however, and moved to the kitchen where he deposited the envelopes and flyers before disappearing, presumably, into the bedroom. Jay pulled himself out of the couch, affectionately known as the 'Black Hole' because it seemed to suck into it all sorts of objects and released only after a great struggle any living thing caught in its hold. It did not matter that the couch was not black- details like that have little place in developing familiarity. Jay was just shuffling through the mail, sorting it, when Joe came out of the bedroom. "Feel better?" Jay inquired upon noticing that Joe had changed clothes.

"Yeah. I should have worn something more comfortable since I knew I'd be sitting at a computer all day." There was a moment of silence before either spoke again. "Get some mail?" Joe ventured, sinking into a kitchen chair.

"Letter from home. Some junk mail," Jay said, sliding the junk mail across the table. Joe deftly scooped up the flyers and began systematically examining them. Some apparently did not meet his approval and they were crumpled up and thrown into the garbage can.

"This is interesting," Joe said, at last finding a flyer of interest. "It says here there's a presentation on world-views. That should be right up your anthropologic alley, eh?"

"Who is speaking?" Jay asked. Jay didn't really care. It didn't seem all that interesting at all. He suspected that the presentation was probably sponsored by a local church. The credibility of the whole thing would thereby be weak. "Robert Zilshire. Do you know him?"

"Never heard of him. Where's it at?"

"At the House."

"The House? That's interesting." The House referred to the coffee house on Jenkin's street. It had a name, but no one could ever recall what it was. They had known it as the 'House' since they'd come to school. Jay was slightly more interested than he was before. Joe seemed to notice the change. "Ah, now that its at the House you care, eh?" Joe commented. "I just want you to know I was interested before I read where it was."

"I just thought it was one of those church things. Maybe it is good."

Joe frowned. "If it was at a church it wouldn't be good?"

Jay suddenly realized that this innocuous conversation might turn into exposure of his beliefs, or lack thereof. He tried to put on an air of indifference, taking the flyer casually from Joe's hands. "No, that's not what I mean. I just mean that as far as my interest in anthropology goes, if it was at a church there wouldn't be much chance that it would be the kind of thing I'm interested in. That's all."

Joe, to Jay's relief, seemed to understand. "Oh, yeah. I suppose a church wouldn't really have much to say about that kind of stuff. No guarantee that it being at the House will improve the odds, though."

Jay nodded in agreement. "It's not like we won't be there anyway. It's at nine o'clock in the morning. That's the study session."

"Like we ever study!" Joe flashed a wide smile. "I love college!"

Grateful the conversation had taken a less dangerous turn, Jay turned the conversation onto the topic of the darkness around the electrical outlet. The examined it for a while, even taking the plastic off to look around. Convinced that there was no danger, they flipped on the television. Jay sat in the bamboo chair, staring at the television. Joe was watching, but Jay was wondering to himself why he was such a coward. He was afraid that if he expressed his feelings about religion his friends would reject him. There was no reason to expect them to do differently, they had rejected others for smaller quirks. Nonetheless, as he recalled his sense of fear when the conversation seemed to be leading towards the topic of his own beliefs, he felt ashamed. It wouldn't be right for his friends to reject him simply because he did not share their beliefs. Nor did it seem right that he was sacrificing his integrity for friendship. He doubted, even, whether or not he could consider them all true friends. Jay wished that he was more like Leigh. Leigh had no trouble spouting off. Leigh could say what he liked and sound convincing enough. Jay felt that even he at times submitted to Leigh's spells. "I wonder if it's just a personality thing," Jay wondered to himself. If it was, than he thought he'd just have to learn to accept that he couldn't ever express himself. That seemed unacceptable. Another wave of aching shame and self-pity washed over him.

"I'm going to bed," Jay said. The manner in which he spoke betrayed there were matters pressing down on his mind. Joe gazed at Jay in attempts to discern what the cause behind the effect was. Jay strode off to bed without revealing further information to his roommate. Jay knew exactly what he felt: self-disgust.

The morning brought with it a sense of newness, even of new birth. Jay rolled out of bed and set about his morning routine. He would be gone before Joe woke up. Of all the elements of his routine, one was deemed most important: the daily walk. He stretched out his legs and breathed the crispness of the morning twilight. There was a little park that he ensured he would pass through at some point. It was beautiful. It was really only a grove of trees; solid oak trees, furnished, however, with a number of semi-secluded benches. A small pool of water was near the center of the park. The path that wound through the park graced the edge of the pool opposite the park benches, affording the passerby a pleasant chance to observe the early morning population without seeming improper. This obviously appealed to Jay's interest in anthropology- but the reason he passed this way every morning was partly because it reminded him of a section of trees and water on the farm he grew up on. It was a favorite place, and passing through this park offered just enough privacy that he could imagine he was frolicking again on the farm. The autumn air was brisk, and his breath curled up in front of him in wisps of silver crystals, dissipating into nothingness. Some people walked for fitness (for wellness he'd heard it called once) but that is not why he walked.

Jay walked to think, to contemplate, to get his bearings. Always pressing and always before him were issues concerning the nature of reality. He'd think about something else if anything else seemed half as important. Chiefly, he wondered if there was a God. Based on the evidence he'd waded through, he didn't think so, but there was a certain fascination aside from all questions of truth. The concept of God had to come from somewhere, Jay reasoned, now taking deliberate steps up a hill. If the concept of God did not come from God himself, presumably because there is no God, it must have been created by humanity. This, to Jay, was where it became intriguing.

He'd heard it once said that Man was not made in God's image, God was made in Man's image. But that seemed as far away from the real origin of the concept of God as it could possibly be. The gods of mythology were clearly creation of human authors. They fought and bickered and played silly games with each other just as humans always seemed to have done. There were malevolent people, there were malevolent gods. There were benevolent people, there were benevolent gods. And the gods, like most people, actually seemed to embody both. But from whence did the concept of a God that was completely good come from? Biblical myths suggested that God could be angry, but this anger was always considered perfectly just. The gods could be judged, but who can judge God? Jay wondered not whether or not God was made by man, but whether or not it was actual that God was in man's image. There seemed a difference.

Quite another problem with the idea of God being made in man's image is that it defies principles of creation. A creation cannot possess more attributes than it's creator. The creator cannot impart what it doesn't have to give away. Jay knew the problem became more profound when you began to speak about literature. Every piece of literature contains only the concepts and idea that the author has been exposed to. The author is limited to those things which he has experienced. Even in imagination, he is only blending old thoughts into new plots. The gods fit easily into this scheme for literature. The gods are only symbols of uninhibited human desires. But what is the source for this new idea, this God that is completely outside of experience? The only alternative was that this God revealed himself- but this was unacceptable to Jay.

God had certainly never revealed himself to him.

If God really did love him, wouldn't God make himself known?

So that leads back to the initial question. Is there a God? He'd heard an argument for theism once.  It had many names:  The First Cause;   The Immovable Mover;  The First Mover.   All of these were reworkings of the simple concept "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction," or, in other words, "Every effect has a cause."   We've all had experience of an event having a particular result.  It only made sense that somehow there had to be a first cause to start out all of the other causes. This first cause would exist without the need to be caused.  The first cause is God- if cause and effect is a valid inference.  But cause and effect cannot be proved. It is only what we experience; there is no guarantee that it will continue.  (Rework this whole part) Jay's mind wandered onto other topics as the park grew nearer. He could see shards of colors between the trees indicating that people had already come to the park to sit and walk. A flash of pink here and the swaying forest green color of a man's plaid shirt could be distinguished even from this distance. He rounded the bend that led directly into the park, searching for more glimpses of colors through the trees. All around him lay the first fallen leaves of autumn, making the ground seem like a multi-hued carpet. Each time he took a step he kicked in some manner these leaves. He could smell the scent of earth and slightly decayed vegetation as he made his journey.

Jay was now close enough to see the man, and a woman, sitting across the pond on separate benches. The woman was reading a newspaper and didn't notice him, but he locked eyes with the man who was accompanied by a steamy cup of coffee. There was a nod of acknowledgment by both of them, and Jay continued on. Seeing nobody else, he emerged finally in the city district.

Jay arrived at the coffee shop around eight. Students had already begun gathering, but not yet anyone that he knew. He ordered his coffee- black with too much sugar- and sat down at his usual table. He sipped the hot concoction, savoring how it systematically warmed his innards: first his mouth, then his throat, eventually the warmness was in his stomach. All was well. Jay reached down to take a notebook out of his bag- and was interrupted.

"Hi," the feminine voice said softly. "May I join you?" Confused, Jay looked at the woman talking to him, and then around the room. There were several tables still open.

"Ah, sure," Jay said at last, obviously perplexed.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "Did you want to be alone? I thought you'd like some company, I'm sorry."

"No, no, please. Please join me. I guess-" he hesitated "I guess I'm not used to people actually spontaneously sitting with lonely people." Jay kicked himself hard, "Not that I'm lonely. That's not what I'm trying to say." Jay could feel a sickness growing in side of him and desperately wished he could fix the mess he'd made.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she interrupted his sudden silence. "Usually people don't ask to sit by people who are alone. It's kind of a social nuance, you know?" She gleamed a beautiful smile at him, and he was taken aback by the genuineness of it. "One usually only sees that sort of thing in books and movies, right?"

"Right. Yeah, that's what I was trying to say." Jay breathed easier and felt the clammy sickness dissipate. He noticed too that he had been clenching his mug; he now forced himself to relax his grip. "Thanks for picking me," he said, directing his eyes towards some of the other 'lonely' people. She cocked her head and smiled. Her gaze made Jay uncomfortable. It was like she knew something about him. It seemed, even that she knew something about him that even he did not know. She spoke before the discomfort could spread, though. She threw her feet up on a chair. She seemed to have no problem being herself around strangers.

"Oh, you know, I hate sitting alone, myself. So I try to find friendly people. You seemed friendly enough!" Again that beautiful, disturbing smile. The smile was hers, the disturbance was his. She did not seem to be smiling 'at' him, but 'for' him; somehow that made him feel special. But special in a way that hurt because it seemed almost like pity. It occurred to him that this was the kind of woman he was attracted to, that she was the kind of woman always attracted to someone else. She was friendly, he was sure, but not interested. As if reading his thoughts, she continued, "Yeah, it just doesn't seem right that people just can't sit down with another person, especially with a person of the opposite sex," she winked, "without it being misconstrued."

"I know what you mean," Jay stated in a manner he hoped would not betray his disappointment. The fact was, he had not misconstrued anything, in fact he was right about all his preliminary judgments so far.

"I feel like I know a lot about you, Jay, and we've just met!" she declared, throwing her arms out in an animated expression he interpreted to mean that she was truly excited about this whole thing. "Let's see, what are some things I know about you?" She studied him for a minute, leaning on one elbow. Her bangs fell slightly in front of her eyes as she leaned. Somehow that enhanced her attractiveness. "Let's see, you walk. Probably every morning you take a walk. You probably stop in here each morning for coffee and do some studying," she paused, sensing for any reaction, "You drink your coffee black, but with sugar. How am I doing?"

"You're amazing!" declared Jay. And he was amazed. "How did you know all of that?"

The woman laughed, "I see you walking by my apartment all the time at the same time. Today I happened to decide to have some coffee and ended up following you here. I heard your order!"

"Well, not Sherlock Holmes, but simple like him, anyway!" Jay exclaimed. "It's funny. I can't figure out anything about you." Jay paused, a grin easing it's way across his face. "How did you know my name?" The woman returned his grin, adding to it mischievousness.

"I can't give all of my secrets away, now can I?" she said slyly, patting his hand. She took the first drink of her coffee since sitting down. Jay was still thinking about the casual touch. He decided he'd better change the subject.

"So what do you study?" Jay inquired.

"Oh, I don't know. Everything I guess."

"Everything? You can't do that, you know. There's to much to know."

She looked at him again. There was a flicker of seriousness in her smile this time. "Let me ask you a question, Jay," she said at last.

"Sure."

"You study anthropology. You study people but have only a working knowledge about evolution. Nonetheless both of those disciplines have much to say about people. How can you be sure that the picture you are studying, your discipline, is big enough to represent the true picture of humanity?" She sipped her coffee. He could see her eyes above the rim of the cup. There was a twinkle in them that assured him that she wasn't trying to cause an argument. Her tone indicated that it was very important to her anyway.

After a moment, he answered. "In reality, anthropology is the study of the big picture."

"Sure, but even anthropology is broken up into sub fields, right? There is physical anthropology, and cultural anthropology. Then those are broken down. There's evolutionary aspects, there's archeology, linguistic anthropology and ethnology. Of course the ideal anthropologist would engender a completely holistic perspective, and understand them all, but as you say, there's too much."

"I know, that's what I said."

"But I wonder if there's and alternative."

"An alternative? Like what?"

"Well, I don't know, I guess. It just seems that if you specialize than you are at the mercy of those who inform you about other fields. You just have to trust them."

"You just have to trust them."

She hesitated before speaking, and then spoke deliberately, "I can't trust them."

Jay waited a moment in hopes she'd expand. When she didn't, he tried to think of something to say. Finally he found something that seemed appropriate. "If you don't trust them you have to live in skeptical doubt about most assertions about reality for your entire life. Can you accept that?"

She leaned forward, her eyes penetrating. "I just choose carefully who I trust to give me the straight scoop."

"So what are we talking about here, anyway?" Jay was enjoying this exchange. The woman was not dominating like Leigh, and somehow he seemed comfortable expressing his actual thoughts.

"Listen, Jay, there's got to be a thousand different viewpoints about the nature of reality. And then, there are thousands more nuances of those viewpoints for each person who is alive. This I accept. It's just the way I approach things, I guess. First I understand the big picture, and then I break it down. Academia does it the other way around, though. There are thousands of fields and sub-fields all asserting that they have bits of what is true, what is real. But who puts it back together, Jay?" She leaned back in her chair. Her hands whirled around as she made points. She seemed so alive, it made him seem alive just to be with her. "It's like all the different branches of medicine, Jay. The tear up the body and learn how it works. But who puts all the pieces back together, Jay? You've got a piece here, and a piece there, and once it's cut up, there's no natural way to put it back together. Cutting it up allows you to understand the parts, but the very process eliminates the possibility of understanding the whole. So what is the true picture of reality? You've got to make a choice. Are you going to be a person who studies the whole, or the person who cuts the thing all up." She seemed to be settling down at last. "Academics are just surgeons. They're good at what they know, but I don't see why I should trust them in their judgments about the whole." Jay pondered the analogy for several moments. He realized there was actually a combination of analogies. While her thoughts seemed valid in general, he doubted they could be extended as far as she was suggesting.

He decided to pursue it further. "Well, couldn't you say that doctors study the physical parts, and therapists study the whole. Maybe you could say that doctors study the parts and psychologists study a bit more, and anthropology studies it all?"

"You could say that, Jay, but I'm saying that the whole situation is bigger than that. Sure you could assert that, but anthropology is just another heading under which the surgeons fall under in their sub-fields. There are few anthropologists in the sense of what you mean. They've all got their categories, and findings in one category gets shared with those in the other categories. But who puts it together?"

"There's gotta be someone."

"Sure there is. I'm confident you can't name one, though. Still, I want to be that someone- and here's the difference. Have you ever noticed that people think they've got the big picture right and then when they break it down, the little picture changes the notions about the big picture."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Have you heard of Quantum Mechanics?"

"Isn't that a television show?"

She glared at him, "Are you serious?"

"I guess it's not a television show," he said sheepishly.

"Newtonian physics had the physical universe fully predicted. In fact, a feller named Maxwell proposed a theory that suggested the light waves were propagated through the medium he called ether. Except for the fact that there was no evidence for the ether, his theory's predictions were right on every point. When the understanding of the smaller parts of the physical world became more understood, they found that Newton and Maxwell's theories did not accommodate these new findings."

"But I learned about Newton's three laws. They're still on the books."

"I know, they're considered approximations to reality though. But there's another way of looking at it. What if classical physics (what Newton's physics has been called) is real, and the quantum world, the smallest of the parts, is the approximation? Do you see how one's view of the world could change based on which you determined had the actual view of the world? I'm the kind of person that believes the big picture is the truth, and the little pictures are the approximation. It's like a television screen. If you put your nose right up to it you can see that there are only three colors at work, red, blue, and green. Is that, then, what television is all about, how can one arrange these three colors? Of course not. Back up and you see the images that the colors make. That's what television is all about."

"So you're saying that anthropology is a study of the colors and not the study of the images."

"Perhaps. It's analogy. You can do a lot with it. I think the idea is to stand far enough back that you have the real sense of what's going on."

"So you're saying that anthropology isn't standing far enough back?" Jay said, confused.

She smiled wide, her eyes gently accusing, "I'm saying that all academic fields are not far enough back, not just anthropology!"

Jay noted the difference between talking to this woman and talking with his friends. "So, how do you know when you're far enough back?"

"Good question!" she said, emphasizing the word 'good.'

"We can talk about it some other time. I've got to go." She stood up and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said in a vain attempt to get her to stay. "How did you know I studied anthropology?"

"Secrets, secrets," she said coyly. She was just opening the door and he realized that he hadn't got her name. He called out to her, "Hey, what's your name?" She turned and faced him. Her eyes betrayed something else that he hadn't noticed before. What was that? "Why do you ask my name?" she stated mysteriously. Their eyes were locked for a moment more, and then she turned, and was gone.

"Crazy," he muttered to himself at last. He set his mug down, trying carefully to align the bottom of the mug with the coffee stain there. He noticed words under the mug and lifted it up, revealing his name, and the word "Anthropology" in big black letters. He smiled.

"That woman was amazing." He finally declared.

Chapter three

Jay was still sitting at the coffee house when Joe at last walked in. There was a nod exchanged between them, acknowledging each other's presence, but Joe moved directly to the counter to order his coffee. Conversation would have to wait. Jay studied Joe's appearance. A neon green hat was pulled snug on his head, cocked a bit side ways. Joe had on black sweat pants that did not cover the little knob on the ankle, leaving a patch of bare skin before the old tennis shoes, untied, did their part. B's blue sweatshirt, monogrammed with the local bar Jay presumed, was large and baggy. The whole scene brought a smile to his face. "Joe. You really should get up earlier," he said as Joe finally reached him.

"You know I can't, Jay. It's genetic. It's hereditary. Never mind- I have a reputation to maintain, and that's the end of it," Joe exclaimed, throwing back a gulp of hot liquid.

"I've always wondered how you can do that, too." "What?" "That. You get your coffee and drink it boiling. Your coffee lasts all of two minutes. This can't be natural. You should have yourself checked." Joe smiled whimsically. "Perhaps, Jay," Joe said contemplatively, "Perhaps it's all part of my drinking style!" Jay groaned. "Coffee is not beer, Joe. It's different. You got to handle it differently. Like a-"

"What, like a woman?" Joe interrupted. "No, not like a woman. Like a precious gift that not all people have. You gotta sip it, savor it. At least sip it so you don't scald yourself." "I'm glad you didn't say like a woman. I was going to say, 'this coming from you.'" "Yeah thanks, Joe. And I didn't say like a woman so you shouldn't have a problem," Jay stated in a slightly peeved way. Joe took no notice. He had made his way back to the counter for another cup of coffee. Jay called out to him, "Spare your bladder, Joe. Drink slower!"

Joe waved him off. Joe was still at the counter when Leigh came in. Leigh, unlike Joe, strided straight away to the table, sliding a chair out with the curve of his foot, and sliding into the chair smoothly. "Morning, Jay," Leigh said, leaning forward, shooting a piercing gaze at Jay. This used to greatly unnerve Jay how he would do that, lean forward, straightforwardly saying this or that. It seemed a move calculated to achieve a result. He was never sure what that result was supposed to be, but it had the result for him for awhile that it was a conversation control stroke of genius: Assert yourself physically, set the tone of seriousness.

By now, however, Jay was accustomed this style. Inwardly, Jay amused himself by saying, "Your Jedi mind tricks won't work on me, boy." "Why are you smiling?" Leigh demanded. "Nothing Leigh. Nothing at all. Just some thoughts." "Do I look funny this morning, what?" Jay redirected the conversation, "Leigh, look at Joe. He looks funny. You can't compare." Leigh slid the chair back a bit, swinging his body around to see Joe leaving the counter. "Good lord, Joe. You've got to get up earlier." "Yeah, I've already heard that this morning. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me to drink my coffee slower." "You mean that's not your first?" Joe shook his head. "Come on man. Why must all drinking be binge drinking?" Leigh remarked loudly. Heads turned to listen in on the conversation. Jay noticed, but apparently Leigh didn't. "Genetic, my boy, genetic. It's in my genes- the binge drinking gene. They'll find it one day you know. If they study my family, that is." Jay had to smile at that. B's family was what Jay had found to be typical Midwestern: conservative in values and opinions, quite liberal in drinking.

Of course, his parents did not approve of drinking, but one could not tell by example they set. Like many cultures he'd read about, the parents he'd met, including his own, looked with disdain at the sex and the drinking of the younger generation, but talked as if it had been OK when they were young. "It was a different time," he can hear them saying. "Well, I think I'm going to get me some coffee, now," Leigh said, standing. Even the way Leigh stood was assertive. Jay shook his had at that thought. Jay wished he could do that. For one thing, the girls listened to Leigh. They seemed to like the way he took command of the conversation. Jay made a note in his head, however: maybe it was the kind of girls Leigh talked to. He didn't think that Leigh's Jedi mind tricks would have worked on the girl who had been there this morning. No, he concluded, they certainly would not have. "So, Jay, everything all right with you today? You seem a bit different."

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just been studying. I have my anthropology class this morning and Dr. Em hates it when people aren't prepared," Jay said, hoping that he didn't actually seem different. How could an interaction with someone change him enough to be noticeable? He noted the possibility and decided to set aside time later to consider it. "Well, you seem a bit different anyway," Joe said, attempting to study Jay closely. B's face widened in a smile. "Why are you smiling, Jay?" "I'm just looking at you, Joe. Would you look at yourself? You look nasty," Jay was laughing now. "Take off your hat, Joe. Come on, let's see." "all right, but you'll be sorry,' Joe said, removing the horrid little neon cap. Sure enough, Joe hadn't combed his hair, and it was matted in numerous directions. Leigh had arrived at that very moment, and they all laughed out loud. "OK, put the hat back on," Leigh commanded sternly. "You'll upset the customers and get us thrown out." "Well gentlemen," Jay finally remarked, "I've got to get to class." "I thought you had Dr. Em yesterday," Joe inquired. "I did. I've got him three days in a row and that's it for each week. But they're at different times. I'm not sure why that is."

"Well, have fun Jay," Joe said after taking a long drought of his coffee. Jay shook his head before he left, "For the sake of your pocket book, then, drink slower Joe." "Not my money. The rents!" Joe smiled mischievously. "all right, anyway. I'll see you later." With that, Jay strode out of the 'house' into the street. The red and yellow flavored air of autumn greeted him with a gust of wind. It was a little bit warmer than it was before, but it was, on the whole, still brisk. He could hear the leaves rustle in the wind. He loved autumn. It was by far the best time of the year. Jay made his way into the heart of the university campus. The campus was a mix of older and newer buildings, the mark of a university with tradition that was still growing. Jay liked the mix. He was a little early for class, so he sat down at a bench a short distance from the building that housed his classroom. He liked watching people. He liked noting idiosyncrasies. He enjoyed knowing things about people by observation that they did not know themselves by experiencing.

Upon sitting down he immediately noticed the girl from class yesterday, Leslie. He sat up straighter, watching her. He was careful to make it seem casual, though. She was talking with a man. For some inexplicable reason, he felt a pang of jealousy. "I just want to be part of something," he thought out loud. "Part of a group of friends that understand life. Like her," he muttered. "And like the girl this morning. Heck, probably like him," he added, referring to the man. Leslie seemed to enjoy the conversation she was having with the gentlemen. He laughed when he suddenly realized she was wearing galoshes. A very odd piece of wardrobe for this time of the year, but it was just the kind of idiosyncrasy he delighted in. He also noticed that she was smiling a lot. It seemed remarkably similar to the girl's this morning- sincere and genuine.

The conversation was not light, however, he deduced. He and she had books open and were pointing to various items. While he was watching they had progressed through about five books. He was impressed. At last it was time to go to class. Waiting for the man, whom he had never seen, and Leslie to enter the building, Jay rose and followed them in. He found a seat in the middle, like he usually did. He glimpsed that the man and Leslie were sitting far apart. Leslie was in front, and the man was behind him a row, but on the other side of the room. He could see them both if he turned just so.

This was interesting, Jay thought. He was sure that there had been more than scholarly interest between them, and if that were so, one would think they'd be sitting with each other. There were plenty of open seats, so their separation seemed deliberate. Jay was thinking about this as more students filed in. The room would be less full then in the afternoons because there were many students that got out of bed later than Joe. About a minute before the class was scheduled to begin, Dr. Em strode in. He was wearing his normal air of arrogance, this morning accompanied also with a smug smile. Jay felt his insides warming- there was going to be a student fry today! He had seen that smug smile before and the results had been exciting. "If Dr. Em gets his way today," Jay thought to himself, "Sparks are going to fly."

Jay had perceived that in the last couple of sessions Dr. Em had been begging for a fight. Itching, even. Jay had been perplexed himself at the lack of reaction, or any emotion, so far from his peers. It seems that the students did not quite understand the implications of what was being taught. They didn't understand that their values were being thrown away as refuse by the considerations brought forth here. At last, Dr. Em began. "Ladies and gentlemen, we begin." The usual clamor of soft conversations slowly died away, replaced by the silence of heads leaning over notebooks, pens in hand ready to write down every single word uttered there that day. "Last session we talked about biases, about presuppositions, and how they can alter the facts imperceptibly. The need to root them out and throw them away, then, is necessary. One would not want to taint the truth of matters with one's opinions, would we?"

Dr. Em picked the podium up and slid it across the floor to the middle of the room. There was the clear outline where the podium used to be. Outside of the outline the tile was slightly dirtier, at least not shiny at all like inside the outline. There was one part of the outline that was distinctly different however. It was very much darker than the rest of the floor, and there were dust balls there for a moment before the room's natural air circulation began to scatter them. "The foundation is most important, my friends. Observe: I have moved the podium. Now, at one point this entire room had been clean. It was waxed, it was shiny. It was pristine. Over time, however, with use there has been a gradual covering with dirt, except where the podium was. I imagine the podium has always been there. Apparently the professors that have graced this room never thought it necessary or desirable to speak from a different point in the room. Not that I am condemning them, of course, because if they taught from the middle," he said, turning and pointing toward the chalk board behind him, "They would have obscured part of the chalk board from someone's view. "My point is that this floor, so used, so worn over by the best and the brightest, still had areas that went unexamined. What do we learn upon examination?"

Dr. Em turned the podium around, exposing the innards of the podium to the students. He directed their attention to the bottom of the podium. "Notice that there at the bottom we have a wooden base as wide and long as the entire podium. The front is as wide as the rest of the structure, and the sides are as long as the entire podium. One would expect, then that the back would also be as wide as the entire structure." He paused a moment to let the students see. About half of them took the opportunity, the rest were taking notes (maybe). He began again, "Now you'll notice that indeed the back is as wide as the front, but rather than meeting the sides at the corners like the front does, forming a square, it is set forward a bit, forming the shape of a capitalized boxed 'A' with the boxed part being out of proportion to the legs of the 'A.' As I take it, I think this design is so that the professors have a place to put their feet and aren't banging them against the wood all hour," he kicked the podium to make the point, his shiny black shoes catching a ray of light momentarily, "Now, what I want you to notice is that the corresponding outline on the floor reveals that the foot area has never been cleaned. It is dirty, filthy even. Apparently the janitors sweep around the podium- I would argue that they sweep the room's filth into the foot area- but never move it. You can see by the outline that on the other side of the foot area, separated by wood, is the area I referred to as pristine."

"What do we make of this? What am I driving at? I'll tell you. What we have here is the makings of an analogy that will help us to understand the greatest barrier to understanding truth. Anthropology will help us to shed light on the issue. The barrier, of course, is religion. I don't care which religion, either. They all have the same situation. Firstly, religions are meant to explain to people in a mythical way things that they could not understand by their own reason. Thus the clean part represents those elements that they found unexplainable. Over time, however, or perhaps from the outset (who can say?), the things that were true were separated by a barrier. This barrier was probably constructed by members of the tribe who wished to have power. On the other side of the barrier, they swept all of the beliefs they could into the foot area, obscuring the barrier, obscuring the path to truth. Of course, much of the floor had at one time been much cleaner. But societies use of the floor had slowly darkened this floor. Since the floor was dirty with the same stuff obscuring the barrier to the last remaining area of untainted truth, no one thought that there was a barrier at all. Thus, the crap that had been plied up into this foot area was able to conceal from all the truth as it really is. It took someone with initiative, someone with vision, to move the podium, to show to the world that by standing far enough back and being willing to remove barriers, that there is something besides all the muck and rubbish that has accumulated over time. This person is the Anthropologist."

Dr. Em ended the last statement with a flourish. Excited by the power of the analogy to explain the nature of reality, Jay waited eagerly for Dr. Em to continue. There was also the reference to 'standing far enough back' which made him think of that morning's conversation. At last, Dr. Em began again. "Now let's issue some definitions and distinctions. The dirt and muck is religion. The accumulated dust and other junk in the foot area is the myths and traditions that the religions are founded on. The barrier between myth and truth exists because powerful people, men mostly, wished that no one would see the truth behind the myths. Since most everyone is too lazy to move the podium, and since everyone is accustomed to living with dulled floors, it has not occurred to anyone that the truth has been obscured. But here it is, friends. You can all see it. The Anthropologist can see through religion because he or she is willing to move the podium and study the matter uninhibited by presuppositions and religious biases. Upon investigation, in fact, the Anthropologist sees that under all of the dirt that has gathered over time is truth. He knows that it's there, even if he does not have the tools to scrub the floor perfectly clean. The discovery, upon studying all religions, the same commonalties, show that religion has the same purpose generally- to maintain power by the powerful, to explain the unexplainable." "What does the class think of this?" Dr. Em inquired.

"I think it's bunk," one student exclaimed.

"You do? I expected as much. But you are blinded, of course, by your presuppositions."

"I am not blinded by anything. I don't believe my faith is founded on a myth at all."

"You're a Christian, aren't you? Yes, I can tell. Now you're probably going to tell me about the historicity of the Gospel, right?" Dr. Em was wearing his smug grin with pleasure. "Yes, I'm a Christian. Jesus was a real person. There are lots of writings that talk about him," the student stammered. "Does the appearance of a person's name in writing mean that person existed? I suppose you believe, on that reasoning, that Paul Bunyan existed. He may have, I suppose. Perhaps a more extreme example? Do you accept that Zeus is real since the Greek mythology tells about him?"

"Of course not," the irritated student remarked.

"Are you saying that the thousands of manuscripts that talk about him are all lies?" "Him being Jesus, I suppose, and not Zeus. You're not going to answer that one, eh? Christianity is a perfect confirmation of the value in my analogy. I am willing to concede that there probably was a man named Jesus. He was probably very popular. Indeed, he probably said he'd rise from the dead. After he did die, in what manner I cannot trust, his followers claimed he did rise and used that claim to exert power over other believers. He appeared to them, you see. That gave them the authority to rule. They created doctrine and fleshed out various details to make the whole idea appealing to the world at large. Then they made money. Lots and lots of money. There was profit to be made in religion, and they knew it. Look at the wealth of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church holds poverty to be a worthy attribute- for it's followers of course. The Church is just doing it's members a favor by collecting from them their money. Wouldn't want temptation to endanger souls, right?"

The student was silent. What answer could he give? Jay was delighted by the interaction. The student was sullen, and of course Jay couldn't really condone attacks on people's beliefs, but he had gained much by the exchange. Dr. Em started asked again if any students had any opinions. "Well, actually," a man's voice from Jay's left began, "I do."

"Certainly," Dr. Em remarked arrogantly.

"I take issue with your analogy. You seem to have derived a great many conclusions from it. But I wonder if it can be looked at in another way." Jay turned his head at the familiar sounding statement. The speaker was the man who had been talking with Leslie before class. This was getting good, Jay thought. "You seemed to believe that the dirt represents religion and that beneath the dirt is the truth. What would you say that truth is?" The student asked. "

That truth is that humanity is divided into groups. The powerful whom wish to retain power, the masses who have little time and energy, let alone resources, to disagree. Thus it is and thus it will always be," Dr. Em exclaimed, leaning forward on the podium, issuing a sustained look of disgust upon the student. Jay looked up at Dr. Em. That was not the answer that he would have given to the student's answer. Sure enough, the student pounced on it. "I thought you said that the barrier was the powerful's way of concealing the truth," the student remarked innocently. Dr. Em paused a brief moment. The student continued before Dr. Em could say anything, "The fact is, you didn't actually say what the truth is. You asserted it as those things unexplainable. I suppose, then, if that is what is under all the grime, then we can know nothing about the truth, since you have defined those things as unexplainable."

Dr. Em seemed to gather strength, interjecting at last, "Ah, but science is making those things explainable! Science is the janitor that comes along and cleans and waxes the floor again, making it clean and shiny!" Dr. Em assumed a pose that seemed to say, "What do you think of that" and waited for the student to reply.

"That's great. That's what science should do. I would argue that science itself adds to the dirt and grime in many cases. However, maintaining your analogy- science removes the dirt exposing the floor as clean, pristine," the student remarked sarcastically, "Does science also explain the floor?"

"Absolutely-" Dr. Em began. But the student cut him off, something Jay had never seen happen successfully before.

"Of course not," the student continued. "Science gives us properties of the floor. It is hard. It has this color here, that color there. You can drop things on it and the things dropped on it change in response to the floor, but the floor stays the same. Science cannot offer an explanation from whence the floor came. He can clean the floor, scrub it clean. The Anthropologist can look at the newly clean floor, but I say, so does the Theologian. You say that the Anthropologist sees through religion. The fact is, you don't see through anything. You assume that under the dirt is the essence of reality, and to a point that I concede, but you can't see through the floor."

"So what are you saying," Dr. Em was able to interject at last. Jay was impressed that the student had managed to maintain the upper hand. "Are you saying that the floor is unexplainable? If it is, than even the Theologian cannot explain it!"

"Of course they can't. But like you said, the scientist can clean the floor a bit, describe the floor. But the Theologian does not concern themselves with the floor. The theologian is concerned with who made the floor, who laid the foundation, put in the tiles, and constructed the building. As you can see, the scientist and the Anthropologist does not stand far enough back. Their heads are looking down at the floor. The Theologian's head is up, looking around. They study the whole of the thing, and offer a glimpse of what the building is like. But you can't blame a man for finding the building's creator more interesting than the building."

"But who knows what the building looks like?" Dr. Em exclaimed angrily. He was losing this debate, he could sense it. "The scientist-" Dr. Em rushed to answer his own question, "The scientist studies the floor. But he looks around too." This last was almost a whimper, almost a begging to end the debate. It was uncommon to be challenged.

"Sure, some do," the man continued. "The fact of the matter is that necessary to this analogy is that we are all confined to the inside of the building. We are confined to study the natural from within the natural. You might even say that we are confined to one room of the building, but I think that broaches onto a different analogy. By definition, science can only study the inside of the building. He can say nothing about what else may be outside of the building. Unless there were windows, of course..."

Dr. Em grasped at this possibility, "Windows, of course there are windows!" "But even so, one can look out of the window, but he cannot look into the window. He might be able to glimpse parts of the building, but he can never see the building in it's entirety.

"So how can we know what the building looks like?" Dr. Em demanded.

"Well," the student said in an offhanded way, "We can study the blue print." "Aha!" Dr. Em exclaimed.

"The blue print? How did we get the blueprint?" The student smiled in a way suggesting that the debate was about to end. "The only way I can see of getting the blueprint is Revelation. It had to be given to us. We would be able to infer bits of the blueprint by observations, but it would always be incomplete, by definition it would be incomplete."

Dr. Em seemed to suddenly become aware of a way out of this mess. "You're a Christian, aren't you?" he asked, sneering.

"And you're an anti-supernaturalist, aren't you?" the student replied. "You would rather believe that the inside of the building is all there is. You're entirely comfortable believing that what you see is all there is. You cannot condemn me, however, for leaning up against the walls and inferring that there is another side of the wall! I'd say that you're belief is ridiculous. A one-sided wall, indeed." Dr. Em leaned forward on the podium, rocking it forward in such a way that if he wasn't holding it, it would topple over.

"So, in keeping with the analogy, what is the dirt and grime?" Dr. Em forced a smile. The latent message seemed to be that the student's credibility would be in question if he couldn't offer an alternative. Jay had seen this before, but in circumstances much more favorable to the good doctor. Jay sensed a moment of truth. Jay had been intrigued by the analogy as Dr. Em had presented it. It seemed to offer quite a bit of explaining power. But the man had seemed to offer a way to 'stand far enough back,' that is, by Dr. Em's own confession, the Anthropologist was content to study the floor and leave the study of other components of the building to other people. This limitation was troubling to Jay. He did not like it, and was hoping that Dr. Em would retrieve his brilliance and offer a significant response. The man spoke.

"The dirt and grime? You view it as a covering, under which is the truth. Moving the podium revealed that the truth is out there. I thank you for that concession. Why, isn't dirt just the ground up remains of rock? In a way, you could say that the floor is a rock, and that the dirt is a corruption of the rock. The essence is very similar, but the existence of dirt indicates the existence of the greater substance. You might say that the dirt is the shadow of the substance. It's a corruption, close to the truth- that is, many people still find it suitable enough to walk on- but not the truth itself. But the truth is beneath it all, and as you point out, if you are willing to set aside some of your preconceptions, the truth can actually be seen in some places."

"Are you saying that Christianity is the truth? What makes you think that it, among all of the other explanations of reality, myth of course, is the right explanation? Why are you certain that Christianity is true?"

"Oh, I haven't said a thing about the validity of Christianity. I don't wish to, either. This is not the setting. You are just trying to change the subject, anyway. What I am saying is that you have already admitted that there is a truth, and remove the grime and the truth is laid bare. Rather than propagate my faith today, I'd rather just suggest that the analogy indicates that there is one truth. Rather than assert that Christianity is that truth, I give to you today that people get down to the business of seeing that truth." Dr. Em was desperate now. Even if he disagreed with the logic, his stature was suffereing a severe blow, he was sure of it. Jay was sure of it, too. The class seemed to be mixed with people who understood the implications of the arguments and people absolutely clueless. Most, at least, recognized that there was something at stake.

Dr. Em grasped at straws: "But there are so many religions!"

"I don't think that Christianity is a religion. Christianity is at it's heart a relationship." The student paused. "Now look, I wasn't going to talk about this part here because of what I'm about to say. According to the analogy, I would assert that the dirt is a corruption of the truth, that religion is the corruption of a relationship. If you want to talk about religion, we can do that- but then we're talking about the dirt. If you want to talk about the truth, I think we'll be talking about relationships, in my opinion, one Relationship in particular, and I don't think this is the setting."

"But this is all just analogies!" Dr. Em blurted out.

"Of course they are," the man smiled, "And because they are analogies, they are limited. Analogies are only good so far as they can inspire the imagination to grasp a concept."

"But analogies are not truth!"

"Nope. Shadows of the truth, always."

"Surely you don't expect me to become a Christian based on analogy?"

"Well, Dr. Em. You started it. You expected me to become an anti-supernatural anthropologist based on analogy. I guess you'd have to confess that you expected the analogy to have some explaining power. I just wanted to say that I thought there was another way of looking at it," the man concluded.

"Class is over," Dr. Em said curtly, and left the room, visibly disheveled. And Jay was amazed.

Chapter Four

"In reality, Cleanthes, continued Philo, the modern system of astronomy is now so much received by all inquireres, and has become so essential a part even of our earlierst education, that we are not commontly very scrupulous in examining the reasons upon which it is founded.  It is now become a matter of mere curiousity to study the first writers on that subject who had the full force of prejudice to encounter, and were obliged to turn their arguments on every side in order to render them popular and convinceing.   But if we peruse Galileo's famous Dialogues concerning the system of the world, we shall find that that great genius, one of the sublimest that ever existed, first bent all his endeabours to probe that there was no foundation for the distinction commonly made between elementary and celestial substances.  The schools, proceeding from the illusions of sense, had carried this distinction bery far;  and had established the latter substances to be ingenerable, incorruptible, unalterable, impassible' and had assigned all the opposite qualites to the former.  But Galileo, beginning with the moon, proved its similarity in every particluar to the earth:  its convex figure, its natural darkness when not illuminated, its density, its distinction into solid and liquid, the variations of its phases, the mutual illuminations of the aearth and moon, their mutual eclipses, the inequalities of hte luanar suface, etc.  After many instances of this kind, with regard to all the planets, men plainly saw that these bodies became proper objects of experience, and that the similarity of theeir nature enabled us to extend the same arguments and phenomena from one to ther other.

In this cautious proceeding of the astronomers you may read you own condemnation, Cleanthes, or rather may see that subject in which you are engaged exceeds all human reason and inquiry.  Can you pretend to show any such similarity between the fabric of a house and the generation of a universe?  Have you ever seen nature in any such situation as resembles the first arrangement of the elements?  Have worlds ever been formed under your eye, and have you had leisure to observe the whole progress of the phenomenon, from the first appearance of order to its final consummation?  If you have, then cite your experience and deliver you theory."

Chapter 4

The burning question in Jay's mind was 'Who was that man?'. As the students filed out in confusion, bemusement (and a look of gratification on the face of the man who had been bitten by Dr. Em), Jay searched the room for the man. He had to talk to him. But he was nowhere to be found. Jay was desperate. He climbed over his chair and moved in the direction of the other side of the room, which now seemed to have a different atmosphere, almost an awe-inspiring air. Where was that man? Unable to find him, his eye caught sight of Leslie. He had to climb across another row to enable himself to reach her, but he did finally. "Hey, wait a minute!" he said earnestly. Leslie turned around to see the speaker.

"Hi," she replied.

"I saw you talking with that man, you know, the second student speaker today? I saw you talking to him before class. Do you know him?" he inquired hopefully.

"Sure I know him. Talk to him once in a while. More and more, though," she said reassuringly.

"What's his name? Where can I find him?" He asked, then upon further thought, "And where on earth did he go so quickly?"

She smiled, "He's like that. He's kind of private, though, so I don't know if he wants me to give out that information. How about this- is there a place you can be and maybe he can meet you?" Jay thought a moment. The first place was the house, but there were likely to be people there that he wouldn't want to hear the questions he had. At last he thought of a place.

"I take a walk every morning. There's a park-"

"The one with the pond in the middle of it, kinda small, surrounded by trees?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"What time do you take that walk?" she inquired, taking out a pen and paper.

"Oh, I guess I pass through there about seven a.m.. I can get there early and wait for him. That wouldn't be a problem." If he got there earlier he could reserve the one bench that was set a decent distance from the other ones, providing the privacy that he wanted.

"OK. I can let him know. No guarantees, though."

"Sure, yeah, I get it. Just tell him that I really want to talk to him. I've got some questions for him."

"Maybe I can help?" Leslie asked discreetly, her eyebrows forming the question mark that the tone of her question didn't offer.

"Ooh, maybe. We can talk, too. That wouldn't be a problem, that would be nice, even," he began to stammer. He was remembering being caught in the act of looking at her the previous day, and her pleasant appearance was starting to break it's way through his desire to find the truth. "

Great, I know a coffee house. It's on Mabel street. How about lunch at twelve today?" Her tone indicated that she didn't seem to notice his slight discomfort. It was that or she was compassionate enough not to call attention to it. The offer was appealing, though. Mabel street was not his hangout, so he was not worried about running into anyone he knew.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll see you there," he said. And then they departed.

Chapter 5

Jay spent the couple of hours between class and his meeting with Leslie in the library. He was researching some of the issues present in his mind. In the brief time that class had occurred that day, he felt that his beliefs (or lack thereof) had been wrung by the neck- limp and weak and unable to defend themselves. He'd felt this way before on occasion, and a trip to the library usually seemed to suffice to restore his hope in a belief system that held the chief tenet that one ought not have beliefs, only confidence in the facts. He perused Dawkin's "The Blind Watchmaker," and Gould's "Full House." Once again he highlighted the main points out of Berra's "Evolution and the Myth of Creationism." By the time he left the library some of his confidence had been restored. On his way to the coffee house on Mabel Street he stopped by his apartment and skimmed "The Celestine Prophecy," on an urge mostly. By the time he walked into coffee house, he was a confirmed atheist again.

The facts of the matter, not silly analogies that can mean one thing for one person and another for a different person, were what he clung to. Facts were facts, and in his opinion, that's all that were necessary. He found Leslie near the back of the coffee house, tucked in a little alcove. A shoddy end table served as the main table. It was covered with stains, and magazines covered with stains. Leslie had already got a cup of coffee, and a second cup was steaming on the other side of table. She noticed in her peripheral vision movement towards her and looked up as he approached.

"Hi," she smiled. "Is someone else coming, too?" he asked, wondering if the man were coming too. "Nope, I figured you'd come right on time so I took the liberty of getting you a cup. I didn't know if you liked sugar, or cream, so here's some packets of each." "Thanks. I just take sugar," he said, sitting down. He ripped open the packets, three of them simultaneously, and emptied their contents into the black broth. "So what were your questions?" she asked. "No, first tell me about yourself," he inquired pleasantly. He forced more of a smile than he usually wore, hoping that it would make sure that his question was not understood as rudeness. "No. I figure we'll get to know each other right quick, and there's no reason making light talk when we both know that deeper matters are at hand," she said passively. "I appreciate that," he said, and he meant it, too.

Still, it didn't seem natural. He had always thought that issues like this were personal matters and that at least the semblance of a friendship was a minor prerequisite. Leslie seemed to be willing to cut to the heart of things, though, and his anticipation was ready to grant that approach. It was just a much different approach than he was accustomed to. "So what do you got?" she said. "Oh, I don't know. I've never seen Dr. Em so put out like that. Usually he is able to maintain full control of every discussion, especially debates." "Well, for one thing," she began, "My friend wasn't impressed or frightened by Dr. eM's paralanguage. That's how Dr. Em wins, you know. He tries to be intimidating, he tries to put opinions out there as if they were facts, that kind of thing. Then he demands pure facts from students. It's very much a double-standard." Jay leaned back in his chair (actually an old, soft chair) befuddled. Leslie read his face. "What are you confused about?" she asked. "Well, you said 'opinions.' I thought that you agreed with Dr. Em," he said, confused. "Where did you get that idea?" she asked, now wearing confusion herself. "Well yesterday he asked about something and you answered that it was evidence for evolution.

I guess I just thought you accepted evolution," he explained. Leslie chuckled softly. "What?" he inquired. "I didn't say I accepted evolution, I just said what was true and what he was looking for. What he was saying can be evidence for the evolutionary framework. That doesn't mean that evolution is true!" Leslie took a sip of her coffee. Her face, a moment ago broken up by a smile, had returned to a serious demeanor. "So you are not an atheist?" Jay persisted. "Hardly," she stated matter-of-factly. "Well," Jay said, shaking his head, "I was hoping you could give me ideas of what to say to that guy and what I shouldn't. You know, give me background to work with." "Well, I'm not an atheist, nor do I give two hoots about evolution." "How can you say that?" Jay said, leaning forward. "Don't do that," she said sternly. "What?" he asked innocently. "That leaning forward thing. Obviously it's not always meant to intimidate, but it seems like that's what it meant this time. If you'll notice, that's exactly what Dr. Em did a great deal."

This rattled Jay quite a bit, even though he thought she was rude to point it out. When he thought about it, Dr. Em did do that. He'd lean forward in a manner that suggested he meant business and stare down the opposition. He'd seen it a lot but never really thought about it. That's what Leigh did, as well, he thought after a moment. At last Jay regained his composure. "I'm sorry. Honest, that's not what I meant to communicate. I guess I'm just getting into it a little," he apologized. "I forgive you," she said, "It's not that I don't come off intimidating to some people, but it's something I've been working on. Especially in matters like this, one wouldn't want a perfectly reasonable statement to be thrown out of court because the speaker was 'speaking' unreasonable paralanguage." "I understand. Let me try again, OK?" he asked. "Please." "OK, how can you not consider evolution as valid? Most scientists hold that natural selection is fact," he said, making sure he didn't lean forward or anything else that may be misconstrued. "Don't do that," she said again, but this time she was smiling. The smiling set him at ease such that he smiled too. "Don't do what?" he intoned innocently.

"Compare evolution with natural selection," she stated. "But that's what evolution is," Jay pointed out. "It isn't. Natural selection generally refers to variety within a species. Any fool can see that natural selection happens all the time. If you will, natural selection is microevolution. Microevolution I see, microevolution I accept. Macroevolution, however, species to another species, that we don't see, therefore I don't accept it." "Ah, but you're wrong there, on several points." "I'm willing to hear them." "OK, well first of all macroevolution- I'll use your terms- happens via natural selection, but happens over so much time that we cannot observe it. Really, we've only been aware of it for about two hundred years," he paused to give her a chance to interject. This is the place that many people would. Instead she motioned him to continue. "The other fact is that we have seen species to species transitions."

"How are you defining species?" she inquired. "I'm defining species as organisms that can reproduce with each other. So, when birds, for example, change by natural selection to a point that they cannot reproduce with near cousins, they are a different species." "But they're still birds, right?" she asked. Jay smiled at this. He'd heard this response often and his reply was ready. "Of course, but over time- lots of time, traits can continue to change to a point where the observer would no longer classify them as birds. It's just hard to conceptualize because no one's ever around long enough to see it happening." "Oh, I see. So what is the mechanism, then?" she asked. "The mechanism?" he responded. "Well, for one thing there is, factually speaking, only so much variety is allowed within one set of DNA, genetically there's only room for so much change before the creature eventually becomes sterile. How is new information entered into the code?" "Well natural selection-" he started.

"Pardon me for interrupting," she said gently, "But natural selection does not ever introduce new information into the code. Macroevolution requires new information. What is the mechanism , what is the 'how' the allows the change to occur?" "Well, over time-" Leslie laughed. "Pardon me again for interrupting," she said tenderly again, "It doesn't matter how much time is involved. Either there is a way how, or there isn't. If there isn't a way, it will never happen. You're assuming that there is a way. That's what I want to hear about." Jay was mildly irritated by the second interruption, but Leslie was remarkably skilled at tempering the interjections in a way that didn't anger him. He noted that when Leigh interrupted, it always angered him. He tried not to let the irritation show. "OK, one way is mutation."

"OK, I've heard that. Isn't it true that 99% of all mutations are harmful?" "You see, it doesn't matter. If over lots of time a mutation enables an organism to survive and pass on its traits, it's entirely plausible for the supposed 'harmful' mutations to correct themselves. Remember, we're talking about a lot of time." "I understand that, not that I agree with that," she said in response to Jay's smile, "But tell me something." "Sure." "How does a doctor know when someone is sick?" "Well, to keep within the definitions, when a person is in danger of dying without being able to reproduce, or who's offspring will be unable to reproduce, that is an example of a sick person." "What I mean is, how does the doctor know that the sickness is not just a step in evolution?" "That's an absurd question." "I don't think so. Think of it this way, the only reasons that physicians do what they do is because they accept that there is a 'right' condition of each organ. No doctor, nor anyone else for that matter, views a third arm as a natural human condition. A third arm would seem to come in handy, though right? But of course, if a person with a third arm were to reproduce, the offspring would most certainly only have two arms. Unless of course, the person were having offspring with a close relative, in which case, the chances of the child being born 'deformed' (notice I am already assuming I have a picture of what a proper form is) are greatly enhanced, and instead of increasing the odds of survival, the odds are more stacked against survival.. Thus there are presently laws against inbreeding."

"Well I see that, but that doesn't prove anything." "No, but it does suggest something." "What's that?" "Can you agree with me that the first creatures to have DNA would have had to inbred?" Jay thought this one through for an entire cup of coffee. Then he got up and went to get another cup of coffee. By the time he came back, he still wasn't sure what to answer, because he knew where she was going, and whatever answer he gave lended itself as evidence for her. He could say, "No," which would be untenable. How else would the first creatures breed? They could breed with others of their kind within the genetic pool, but the whole point of the question is in regards to the first creatures. If he said, "Yes," then he would have to conclude that the species in question would have quickly died out. He could suppose that somehow they were able to live, but for how many generations could this luck last? There seemed to be no way out. "Of course, there's a great deal of talk about just how the DNA came about in the first place," she said after his continued silence. "But I take from your silence that you cannot answer either way without hindering your stance. What if there's a third possibility?" "What is with everyone talking about 'possibilities?'" he asked, frustrated.

Leslie laughed. "Jay, you have to understand that in these matters we can't talk about facts, because the data required to answer the questions does not exist. All we can talk about are possibilities. I would say that many scientists would agree with that. In fact, the only hope that many of them have is not that evolution is true, but that it is possible." "Well I don't like it. What's the third possibility?" "Well, if you assume that the first creatures with DNA were as filled with genetic corruptions as the creatures that we see now, it is self-evident that the creatures would not last long, certainly not long enough to reproduce enough generations to spawn a new species! But, what if the first creatures had no corruptions?" She paused to let him ponder the question.

He shook his head. "I think it's hard enough to see that it would be possible for DNA to come together at all," he deliberated, "Let alone for it to come together without any corruptions. Especially if the means we're working with is mutations. The odds against were high in the first place. This only makes it seem even worse." Jay stopped talking. All of a sudden the whole theory of evolution seemed to be whisked away on the wave implausibility. "There is one possibility..." Leslie said cautiously. "I don't see how." "The first creature was created," she remarked. Her tone was nearly matter-of-fact, and all of a sudden the possibility seemed entirely real that her other possibility was not possibility at all, but rather a matter of fact. "What about the great age of the earth, and all of that?" Jay begged. "Listen, Jay, this is just stuff to think about. You can raise all sorts of other facts too, and they won't erase the conclusion that you just came to. And you can go talk to someone, and they'll have evidence for evolution and maybe it will all sound plausible again. But listen, now." Jay raised his coffee to his lips. He could spare some time to listen. After she took a drink of her own coffee, she began.

"You've heard the question, 'which came first, the chicken or the egg' I'm sure. Let me put it this way, which came first, the preconception or the theory? Here's another way to put it: Which came first, the theory that life evolved, or that the earth is very old? Now, I'm saying it doesn't matter what kind of evidence there is about the age of the earth, the point is that to even begin to consider the idea that life evolved, a great deal of time is needed. So, assume that there is a great deal of time, and then evolution is plausible, even though I would argue it really isn't, but with all that time, who can say, right?" Jay nodded. "Well, what if there were other estimates on the age of the earth, but they are rejected simply because they don't allow enough time for evolution to occur? Those estimates are out there, Jay, and they range from five thousand years to five million years. But five million years is clearly not enough time, either, so it has to be rejected. What you have, then, is circular reasoning: The earth is old because evolution demands it to be old, and evolution is possible because the earth is old. Do you get what I'm saying?" she asked politely. "I do, but I can't say whether or not scientists work the way you say they do."

"That's fine. Look into it. Don't believe me just because I say something, look into it yourself. Do a historical study and find out which theories arose first. And for a lot of fun, try really stepping back." "What does that mean?" "Well, assuming evolution is true, there really aren't 4.5 billion years for evolution to occur. Supposedly, the fossil record indicates there was an explosion of life during the Pre-Cambrian era, about 500 million years ago. There's a big difference between the two numbers. Are you comfortable allowing the movement of water creatures to land creatures, land creatures to the rise and fall of dinosaurs, to the advent of mammals, and the superiority over nature that man presently maintains, weakly at that, all within 500 years? This is all besides the fact that genetically speaking it's difficult to say speciation was possible by the first creatures to begin with. Unless you're willing to assume that the first creatures actually not only appeared, but appeared in great number all at once in separate places to create a gene pool. You'd have to assume a much larger number if the these multitudes were genetically corrupted, and exponentially smaller assuming they weren't. Of course, the smaller the gene pool with less corruption, the less the chances, plausibly speaking, that it was actually possible." At last she took a breath. She took a drink of her coffee, appearing to down the last of it. "One last thing, and then I really need to go," she finished. "Sure, Leslie. Sure. I've got a lot to look into, I guess." "You can step back even further than what we've talked about now. You can try to figure out just how the elements formed. Remember that in general matter tends to disorder. Some people wish to classify that statement by saying that applies only within certain systems.

The fact is, it doesn't matter. For example, the earth is an open system, by their definition. The sun is the energy that is entered in to make the whole macroevolution thing work- but how often does the sun's radiation make for healthy organisms? Plants are a separate issue, but I'm speaking about the animate creatures. The question is, if the big bang is a fact, as it is supposedly, than you have to come to grips with the idea that out of that great bit of disorder, consisting of only the simplest elements (so the story goes), came out the more complex elements. Jay, if I drop a light bulb, it's going to shatter, and I can beam sunlight on it all day long, and it's not going to turn into a different element, nor will it come back together. Or, to keep the analogy organic, I could shred various meats together, and flood it with sunlight. Do this in the open, and it will rot. Do this in a vacuum, it will just get hot. Anyway, that's where I'm going to stop. You've let me talk all this time, and I thank you for it. Remember, we're talking about possibilities and probabilities, not facts. As soon as you call these things facts, you've betrayed your preconceptions. Find the truth, Jay, accept it because it's true, not because you want it to be true." She stood up. "I've got to go. I'll arrange that meeting for you." "Now wait a minute, Leslie" Jay insisted. "You can poke holes in evolution all day, but what if the alternative is intellectual suicide?"

"I'd prefer intellectual 'suicide' as you put it, to intellectual dishonesty. What kind of a person holds a theory not because its true, but because the alternative repels him. That person is a coward, Jay. A coward. I'm sorry, but that's it." And she turned and left. Jay just sat there, amazed for the second time that day.

Chapter Six

He was amazed not so much as what Leslie said, but the way in which she said it. He felt like a wave on the ocean, tossed this way and that. Before he entered the coffee house he was as confident in his unbelief as he felt he could be. Twenty minutes of talking with a woman who spoke knowledgeably from another perspective and it seemed everything he thought he knew was flimsy. He pondered this for a moment. It was not that he hadn't heard bits and pieces of this argument before; he had. Just the fact that someone could look at the same evidence that he had looked at and come up with a different conclusion was somehow unnerving. He comforted himself with the conclusion that this was an experience not limited to nonChristians.

Many a Christian had most likely been swayed, not by the evidence, but by the very possibility of viewing the evidence in a different manner. Jay decided to go to the park and get his thoughts in order. He dispensed with his dishes and left the coffee house. There was a feeling in the air that a battle was under way; the peaceful occupying force of autumn resisting futilely the oncoming onslaught of barbaric winter. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned his face to the wind. The street was busy with students and workers. Delivery men were going to and fro and a post man crossed into a building in front of Jay. The business district slowly turned into the campus area. The park he sought was on the fringe of the campus. Usually the grounds were filled with students milling about. The air was just bitter enough to prevent mere loitering.

Today there were several young men playing Frisbee, but other than that it was empty. At last he entered the grove of trees and took a bench opposite the pond. The moment he made impact, his thoughts began to assail him again. He didn't really want to think, however. He only wanted to settle himself down. He knew that if he could suppress the thoughts altogether, the issue would pass and he could go on as a confirmed atheist again. When he felt the tidal wave had at last passed him, he took a green colored book out of his bag. He opened it to a random location, and put his finger in to mark the place. He breathed deep the decay of the fallen leaves. What is the nature of reality, he wondered? Can existence just be one cycle, he wondered, pondering the seasons. Could it be, he wondered, that just as the earth has seasons, so too the universe?

Of course, the seasons would be different; perhaps the universe lives through only one season while systems within it experience more. The universe is born. . . springtime. There is a long period of growth and expansion . . .summer. The death of the universe become imminent. . . autumn. Then the long desolate age of winter when the universe reaches thermal equilibrium. Depending on how much mass is in the universe, the universe would remain eternally cold. If there was enough mass, however, the universe would collapse in upon itself, forming another 'Cosmic Egg,' hatched once more in one more springtime. "But what if the universe remains eternally cold?" he wondered aloud.

A gust of wind swirled scraps of leaves around him. When they at last settled, he thought about something Leslie said. "Those leaves can never return to their earlier form," he thought, "And it makes no difference if energy is supplied. They certainly could not become a tree!" It was also true that the leaves would breakdown. More energy supplied to the system of dead leaves only reveals the diverse elements that the leaves were composed of. There are no new elements, only the same ones as before now ripped apart from what bound them into the organic leaf. The leaf would decay into the ground near the tree, and the tree would recoup it's losses. "But where did the tree come from?" he thought angrily. "The tree turns the elements of the earth into organic material, otherwise the organic would remain inorganic." He was really frustrated now. If evolution was about possibilities and probabilities as Leslie said, he didn't see how it was possible or probable that trees could have come about spontaneously or otherwise.

"Well, they're here," Jay said aloud, his voice laced with irritation. "No matter what the odds against evolution from occurring, it happened, and that's proof enough!" "Excuse me?" a voice called from nearby. "Are you talking to me?" Jay turned to the speaker sheepishly and apologetically, "No, I'm sorry. I was just talking to myself." At once, however, he recognized the speaker. "It's you!" "Yes it is," the man said, coming to the bench. It was the man from the classroom, the one that Leslie said she'd arrange for Jay to meet. "That was really quick," Jay exclaimed. "Well," the man said thoughtfully, "I knew you wanted to talk to me. It must be a coincidence though that we both ended up in this park."

The man had a slight smile on his face as if he himself doubted whether it was a coincidence or not. "My names Jay," Jay said, extending his hand, "What's yours?" "Why do you ask my name?" the man said, shaking the offered hand. "You know me. You have always known me." Jay looked at the man curiously. The man was bearded. He had brown hair and medium build. He did not seem familiar at all and so he began to wonder if perhaps the man was part of some cult or something like that. He caught the man's eyes, though, and there did seem to be something reminiscent about them "So you aren't going to tell me your name?" The man shook his head. "There's a lot to a name, Jay. More than people think. It's a common theme in the Bible, but it's never explained. It's a mystery. You cannot understand my name so I think it would be easier not to give you it." "I've got to call you something," Jay exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Call me W," the man said. "Realize though that the name only symbolically represents who I am, and is not me at all, only the shadow of who I am." "Is your real name something more, then?" Jay inquired. "You could say that my name is the exact representation of who I am," the man said straightforwardly. It was actually unnerving how the man could say such mysterious things in a matter-of-fact way. It seemed unnatural. W smiled. "Let's talk about something else, though Jay."

"Sure, sure. I've a lot of questions!" "I know you do," W said quietly. "Let's start with why you have that book open to that place." Jay looked down at the book laying forgotten on his lap. The white-lettered title was lifted boldly off of the green background. He opened it up. He glanced at the page heading. "What does mysticism have to do with anything?" Jay pondered. W laughed. "It has a great deal to do with things, if you come at things in the right way. The author of this book knew that people experience truth in different ways. So he constructed a plot and story that would appeal to different kinds of people and tried to show how his view of the truth was plausible. Have you read it?"

"I've read it twice," Jay replied, "But I don't see what you mean." "Think about it Jay, the beginning is an explanation of how coincidences are not coincidences; that's something that people have always felt. Many people have viewed coincidences to be evidence of the supernatural. No reason for that, the author says! You can interpret that to be evidence for something else within nature."

"OK, so you're saying that by appealing to the fact that many people wonder if the accidents in their lives weren't accidents, that he lures them into accepting truth as he presents it?" Jay remarked. "Yes," W said. "Don't you see that the greatest vindicator for what is true is found in people's experiences? If I made the statement that 2+2=4, you would agree with me not so much because that's what you've been taught, but also because your experience has shown it to be true. But what if I said that a certain field in science has shown this possibility: 'If you are not observing something, it may not exist.' What would you say to that?" "That's absurd!" Jay exclaimed. It infuriated him that a scientific discipline could say such a thing. "What field?"

"Quantum Physics. But don't get in a huff! The scientists who have discovered this aren't exactly fond of it either. Some scientists rejected all of the experimental results on the sole basis that they could not except the philosophical conclusions. Some scientists, however, set about trying to make the philosophical conclusion more palatable. Wish them luck! So far all of their ideas are fairly absurd, too!" "So you're saying that unless someone is observing me, I don't exist?"

Jay demanded incredulously. W smiled slyly. "I didn't say that, they did. But see how you find it hard to accept? Your own experience doesn't seem to bare the idea out, so you find it hard to accept." "Hey, wait a minute," Jay said, raising his hand up to stop W. Jay flipped back in the book. "Is that what this is all about here, about the subatomic particles reacting to our expectations?" "Right," W said, nodding his head. "It's the same idea except he doesn't take the implications of Quantum Physics to the very end. He stops short just where the findings of Quantum Physics still support his views of reality." "Do you think he's trying to be deceptive?" Jay asked. "Oh, I don't know. He's misguided, at least. I just don't think he's standing far enough back, or perhaps his view of the truth prevents him from doing so," W remarked, digging one foot into the leaves. He watched his foot tunnel through the leaves for a moment, and then looked up again at Jay, who was immersed in thought. "Now, I think that the implications of Quantum Physics- the bitter, final, implications, are within everyday experience," W commented somewhat mysteriously. "How so?" Jay inquired. W smiled again. "Come with me, Jay. I want to show you something."

Again the straightforward manner, but there was no mistaking that mystery was wafting through on the breeze. W led him to the edge of the pond. Soggy, brown leaves surrounded the diminutive pond. W got on his hands and knees and brushed aside some rocks. Jay hesitated. What a foolish scene it would be, two men grubbing around in the muddy earth! Jay swallowed his pride, and got on his hands and knees as well. He could feel wetness spreading around his kneecaps, and the ground was clammy to his hands. He tried to see what W was looking at. Finally, W sat up. "There! Look there, Jay!" Jay looked at the jumble of rocks that W had moved over, and peered into the area that the rocks had come from. But he couldn't see anything. He glanced quizzically over at W, but W just encouraged him to look closer. A moment later, he still hadn't seen anything notable, and was becoming irritated just thinking about how foolish he must look like. "You're looking too superficially, Jay!" W advised with disgusting patience. "You've got to learn to see things from a different perspective. It's the only way you can grasp the truth long enough to begin understanding it!"

Jay steadied his gaze to the earth again, determined to see whatever it was to be seen. At last, a small grain of sand caught his eye. He moved closer to it, bringing his face inches from the shore. He had to put one hand in the water, but he scarcely noticed the sudden immersion into coldness. There seemed to be a crack in the grain, and out of that crack seemed to be some sort of light, a twinkle, perhaps. He focused his attention on the twinkle, and it occurred to him that this twinkle was more akin to a star's twinkle than a crystal's. He pushed his nose up into the earth to try to catch a glimpse of this miniature star. The twinkle seemed to be growing, the grain of sand becoming larger and larger.

It seemed as if suddenly he was sitting in the pilot's seat of a jet and was flying at full speed towards this smallest particle of earth. Just as if one thought they were crashing, suddenly Jay was standing on the particle- which he knew to be a particle but now seemed as large as the world he normally experienced. It seemed to his senses that he was standing in the middle of a desert wasteland. He had lost all sight of the twinkle. It was light all around him, but he could not discern the source of the light. Besides that, W was nowhere to be scene. Jay walked for a while in what he hoped was a straight line. After what seemed to be almost an hour, he at once came to a deep crack in the surface. He crawled to the edge, and peered into the gulch. He couldn't believe his eyes! There was a path way that adjoined the cliff; he was standing at the beginning of it, and he quickly began running down, down, down. There was the sense that it was getting lighter, but the light seemed to be pulsing too, just perceptively. At last he came to the bottom, the light was everywhere, and his senses were overwhelmed by what the light revealed.

Chapter Seven

He was standing again at the edge of a body of water, but it was no mere pond. In front of him was an ocean. Directly above him was the sky, but about a mile away, suspended somehow above the ocean was a cliff that shot up to the surface where he had made his beginning. The twinkling, he realized, was the glimmering of the waves. The shimmer of light made it's way up the cliff walls on both sides, and it was, he was sure, the source of the twinkling that had first caught his eye. He was perplexed for a moment that there did not seem to be a light for the ocean to reflect, but his attention was soon focussed on the lush, emerald forest that stood proudly behind him.

A stretch of the forest extended near to the ocean, and he realized after a moment that a river emptied itself into the ocean there. He could hear the rippling against the background of waves washing gently against the shore. He made for the tongue of mystical trees, turning round and round to take in the breathtaking scene being revealed all around him. He left his shoes and socks in a pile about midway, feeling the warm white sand surround each of his steps. Finally he reached the lip of richly wooded land; the sound of the river had now become the dominant sound. It was loud enough that he knew that within the trees was not just a river, but a waterfall.

Once inside the forest, however, he realized that a ring of large boulders guarded the treasure within. Large trees grew up and around and within the boulders, adding to the protective fence, and also adding to the enchantment. The sounds of birds filled the tree tops. He couldn't see any of them, but flashes of brilliant color swinging from tree to tree revealed that the birds were of priceless beauty. All at once he found a crack in the protective barrier. It was just wide enough for him to fit through, and realized that if he had come from a different direction he wouldn't have seen it at all. There was still dense vegetation all around him, but a firmly packed path cut through it. The dirt was pleasantly cool.

The sound of the river grew louder and louder. The rush of rapids shook the leaves of the mighty giants, the crashing of water upon water and rock made the ground tremble. He could feel the earth's shivers through his feet, even up to his chest. Nervous excitement permeated his being, he was running now, falling here, rising and running, pursuing the sound. He was afraid that if he didn't soon arrive, the place would disappear. At last, as if the forest were giving birth, he exploded into a clearing, dripping with the moisture of the forest, plunging headlong into the river. Up to his waist, he turned round and round. He could see his feet as clear as if the water were air, little pebbles tumbled by. He followed the river up a ways- the waterfall was thundering now- and rounded a bend.

. .

And within him his heart burst and burned with fulfillment, the waters rumbling down a looming cliff, swirling into white frothy crowns. The jungle, as it now seemed to be, embraced the waterfall on both sides; he could see trees towering high above the top of the cliff, and above that the tender blue of sky. He waded toward the falling waters, the splash of it greeting him and intensifying with each slow step. At last he was in it! The water fell like heavy pleasure upon him, like a massage all over. The coolness of the water went through his body, his body soon tingling with the overwhelming assault upon his senses by the deep, green, rain. After turning about in the waterfall, he dove under the surface. At once the thunder was muted, he felt it more than heard it. He kicked against the water towards the shore. Finally lifting his head above the water's skin only when he felt his lungs were close to bursting. He pulled himself onto the shore, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Was this heaven? It seemed like his whole life he'd wanted this. To drench himself in a crystal pool, surrounded by the emerald darkness of a wet old forest.

This mystical place, untouched by anyone, could be his dwelling forever. He could survive by gleaning fruits from the vines. He could climb the trees and watch the dapper birds, he could hear their songs from within their music. He sat at the edge for a while, his feet dangling in the rapidly moving water. "This is reality," Jay declared to himself. "This is the fulfillment of all my longings, all my desires. I am home, home." He leapt to his feet, throwing his arms above and out, "I'm home!" he yelled. A smile came over his face, he knew he must look ridiculous. He sat back down on the warm wet dirt. All at once a twinkle of light caught his eye. Happily he threw his face to the dirt, focusing on the twinkle, looking past the mere appearance of a grain of sand. He felt the rush of movement again.

His body seemed to be plunging once again to plains located far below him. Suddenly, he was sitting on a bench. In a park, in a small grove of sleeping trees losing their blankets, opposite a pond, he was aware that someone was sitting next to him. He turned to face the presence. It was W, and the confusion on J's face made it clear that W was the last person he was expecting to see. "Did you like it?" W asked. "Did I like it?" Jay shouted, exasperated, "I want to go back! Was that real? Is this real?" Jay jumped up from the bench and landed at the pond's edge. His hand fell into the water; it was so frigid he had to pull the hand out immediately. He looked for a twinkling, some light in the sand, beckoning him like a flirting lover. But there was nothing. Dejected, Jay stood. He looked around- embarrassment lurked ready to spring- but he saw no one except for W. He returned to the bench and sat down.

"Where did it go?" Jay whimpered. "I have it right here," W said, pointing his finger to his head. "I don't understand." "I know, I know." "I want to understand," Jay insisted. "You can understand only so much," W said sympathetically. "It was all in your imagination?" "You could say that. But it wasn't only my imagination." "Can- can I do it? Can I?" W shook his head sadly. W thought for a minute, and at last spoke. "You must be content in experiencing it, Jay." "But did I experience it? Perhaps it wasn't real. . . perhaps I did imagine it," Jay demanded. "Then where are your shoes and socks? Besides, I said not only my imagination, but I didn't necessarily mean your imagination." W stated patiently.. There was silence. After a long time, W broke the silence. "I imagined it, Jay. It was real for you- and," W hastened to add, "Real for me too, but not as real. To me, what you experienced was the shadow of what is real. I experience the real thing in different ways, but I confess I appreciate it far less than you did. Unfortunately." "So am I real?" Jay asked. A hint of anger was in his tone. "Yes, of course. You are in my image." "I don't understand," Jay said again. "The ultimate conclusion that Quantum Physics has produced is that one cannot be sure that something exists unless it is being observed. And the conclusion is true, but they assume that the only possible observer is themselves. They aren't looking at things far enough back. But I think they don't want to."

"What are you saying?" Jay demanded. "I said before that people were willing to accept that 2+2=4 partly because it is confirmed in their everyday experience, but the full implications of Quantum Physics seemed to be foreign to them. But it isn't at all. Every time they read a book they create a world. The world is real, but not nearly as real, or glorious, as they are- but it is symbolic of a the way things really are. To the world that they create, they are the divine authors. If they cease thinking about a character, or feature, it ceases to exist until they bring their thoughts upon it again. The written word is a symbolic outline for Creators to follow and supplement." W paused to see if any of it was sinking in. Jay just stared out over the pond. W continued.

"That is why the best writings are not those that spell out every detail, but the ones that allow a person's own imagination to flesh out the details. That is one reason why movies are so limiting and yet so powerful. The movie director can give everything away, leave nothing to the imagination. He can deaden the imagination- he creates the world, he dictates what you see. But directors interested in world creating can open the imagination up largely by what they conceal. There is power here, Jay. Power. Power permeates imagination, and imagination gives one power. Only by imagination can one stand far enough back to discern the proper nature of reality." At last Jay had enough. "OK, W. Fine. This all great and philosophical, but what about the hard facts of evolution? What about the great age of the earth? What about dinosaurs and natural selection? What about Lucy and other pre-humanoids? How do you explain all of that?" W shook his head despairingly. "I can say nothing about that. Evolution is one of the greatest stories known to man. The authors of this great story have left a great deal to the imagination- the story seems rife with possibilities. All I will say, is that anyone can construct a theory and align the evidence in such a way that it supports the theory. Think about it, Jay. If I construct a theory based on the premise that 2+3=4, and then garner evidence that seems to fall in line with it, there can be no real discussion with a person who supports the assumption that 2+2=4. All the evidence in the world won't change the validity of the assumptions that support it. There are logical implications of each mathematical theory I just presented. The implications can be cold and purely logical, but the results can still be wrong, Jay, wrong, if the premise was wrong to begin with. Do you understand this?" "So I suppose that the theory of evolution is the one that says 2+3=4, huh?" Jay replied indignantly.

W leaned back innocently, "I didn't say anything of the sort. You did." He put his hands on his knees, implying finality. "Jay, evolution follows naturally and logically from the premise that the natural is all there is. Evolution is probably the only option for one who follows the premise to its natural conclusion. But you can't blame people who start with a different premise- not that there is a supernatural, necessarily, but that it is possible that there is. Can't you understand that?" "No." Jay said staunchly. "Because you don't want to, or because you don't?" "I don't know, and I don't know if it matters." "Just listen to this, Jay. One last thing, and then I have to get on with my real life for awhile. Don't you see that it is impossible for one with the premise that the natural is all there is to discern supernatural entities? It's ruled out from the beginning! And science, which studies the natural and is limited logically by this limit, can say nothing about whether or not the supernatural exists. Science, by definition, is not able to stand far enough back. And that's all there is." "I don't think so," Jay said adamantly, rising. "What you think is the way it always seems to be," W stated with mellow finality. And Jay left, shoeless and sockless, clutching his bag and book.

Chapter Eight

Jay practically marched back home. It did not matter that he was barefoot and the pavement was violent to his skin. There were other matters on his mind. There was all the things he took to be true before, and the undeniable experience in the park which undermined all that he felt was real. But Jay was angry, too. These Christians did not fight fair. They didn't allow him to know them well enough to disqualify their faith based on their flaws. Instead they stayed on the topic, they spoke with passion, but they were fair. Worse, they refused to come out and openly repudiate his beliefs; they seemed content to assert logical arguments, as if evolution was about logic alone, and not facts. When Jay walked into his apartment, the soft smile that people were accustomed to seeing on his face was nowhere to be found. Joe was sitting on the couch, watching TV, with a beer in his hand. Jay took one look at Joe, noticed the beer cans strewn about, and sneered in disgust,

"You're why I'm not a Christian!" Jay didn't wait for a reply from the stunned Joe, instead he went into the kitchen and got him a drink. Joe had followed, and now leaned against the door frame, watching Jay carefully. Jay had his back to him and so didn't notice that he was being studied. Jay moved to the sink, staring out the window, lost in thought and silent. Joe was also in thought. He certainly did not know what to say, nor did he know what had sparked the opening comment. Joe noticed at last that Jay was not wearing shoes and socks and that Jay was obviously just drying out; his clothes all were clearly damp. Joe had to smile, "Ooh, Jay? Where are your shoes and socks?" Jay had to smile, too. Still he looked out the window; he was not ready to relinquish his anger. When there was no response, Joe spoke again.

"Jay? Why are you wet?" "It's a long story, Joe, and I doubt you'd believe me." Jay didn't think that he himself believed it, and he experienced it. The two stayed where they were for five minutes. J's eyes were focused unthinkingly on an object he could see through the window, and Joe knew that he had to be ready for Jay when he was finally ready to talk. It wasn't too long, although it seemed long, before Jay at last turned from the window and sat down at the kitchen table. Joe pulled a chair out and sat down to join him. Silence reigned nonetheless. There was no coffee now to serve as a medium. The only light was the bright 100 watt light above them, decimating shadows. The old kitchen table, the old tiles, the rotted counter were the elements preventing a pleasurable ambiance. The chairs beneath them creaked with the slightest movement.

Jay did not seem willing to talk yet, but it didn't matter to Joe, who seemed firmly established where he sat. All at once Jay burst. "We've lived here together for two years, Joe, and you always drink. You always make fun of the people on the TV talk shows and you don't do any good works, but you've always called yourself a Christian. Worse, maybe, you've had no idea that I was an atheist. What kind of Christian are you?" The words cut hard and deep. Joe was staggered. He had thought that perhaps J's anger was not about him, but now it seemed that maybe it was. Within him raged different thoughts different emotions. Should he defend himself? He couldn't really, but pride seemed to insist that he should. In the end, wisdom prevailed, and despite the hurt that was lurking behind the words, Joe finally chose from his list of options what he was going to reply. "Actually, Jay, I've known that you were an atheist for a long time."

Jay looked up at him incredulously. A hint of bitterness washed over his face. Jay did not choose his words nearly as carefully as Joe did, "Sure you did, Joe. How could you know? You never talk about religion, you certainly don't live as if you believe in one. And no offense, but I just don't think you could have figured it out unless I told you." Joe was struggling to discern what the real crux of the matter was. He was sure that it could not be himself. The fact that Jay was wet and had unadorned feet seemed to indicate that there had been some sort of catalyst that had prompted this situation. Still there was a deep desire to rise up in his own defense, and Jay had really touched a nerve with the last not so subtle statement. He had to reply to it. "I figured it out myself midway through last year, Jay. I didn't talk about it because I thought that would turn you off further. And you know, I don't even like beer," Joe said softly.

"How am I supposed to believe that, Joe?" "Which?" "Well both. How did you know?" "You left an essay that you had written for a class out on the living room table. So I read it. I didn't know what to do. I've never met an atheist before." Jay felt somehow exposed now, but his anger and frustration was still to overpowering to allow innocence to prevail. "So what about the beer, then?" Joe was silent in response, his head was down, and he was staring at his hands. He was like this for a while, so long, in fact, that Jay was getting impatient. Jay tapped his fingers against the table, hoping but not hoping that Joe would notice. At once, however, Jay noticed that Joe was quivering slightly. Just as Jay realized what was going on, Joe looked up, droplets of water streaking down his face. "I've done everything wrong," he said, his voice shaking.

"I didn't say anything about my faith because I thought I'd offend you. And the beer," he continued, the tears streaming now, "Geez, Jay, haven't you ever wanted to be part of something? Haven't you ever done things because you were known for it, and it felt good to be known for something?" Joe was sitting straight up now, indignation fixed upon his face. "And good works, what are those? I was afraid you'd laugh at me if I told you that I taught Sunday School. Is that a good work? What, did you think Christians were supposed to be perfect?" Jay was amazed- a feeling he was growing more accustomed to- and deeply ashamed. He was ashamed at his snobbery, ashamed at his own desires to be part of something special, ashamed that he had never recognized that Joe was indeed a friend. He was ashamed too, to realize that he had never talked about his 'religion,' either. On every count he had charged Joe, he was guilty. He avoided beer, somewhat self-righteously, but the principle- trying to fit in- he was guilty of. Jay rose swiftly, uncomfortably. The chair was pushed back with the abruptness. Jay faced Joe, whose face was still growing wetter, and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Joe."

"I pray for you every night!" Joe blurted out.

"I've misjudged you in every way, Joe. Please forgive me," Jay said, allowing the deep shame to permeate his statement. "I've got to go for a walk, Joe. I've got to go." "Then go," Joe replied simply. Jay could not tell if Joe was angry at him, or if the statement wasn't actually laced with intense compassion. Jay didn't ponder it very long. He walked out of the apartment, descended the stairs, and embraced the crisp breath of autumn again.

Chapter Nine

Jay walked for an hour. He left the campus and the city and walked along the old farm roads a short distance from the city. He quickly found that his thoughts were not intense enough to take away from the pain of walking on gravel- he still had not put on shoes and socks- but if he walked along the edge he was OK. His mind was assailed in all different directions. One moment he was thinking about religious issues, another moment he was upbraiding himself for taking a close friend for granted. The exhilaration of the park experience was contrasted with the shame and self-pity surrounding his reaction to the explanation that W seemed to offer. Where was God in all of this, he wondered. This seemed the perfect time for God to surface, to assert that he was God and was close. But there was only nothing. He thought perhaps that the prayers of atheists could not be accepted on any terms.

This made him wonder if God was really all-loving as he was supposed to be. After a decent time out on the rural roads Jay turned around and made his way back into the city. The paved streets were less painful on his feet than the gravel, but it still hurt. Jay decided that what he really wanted right then was a cup of coffee. He made his way to Jenkin Street. He would not be able to go in, but perhaps someone could buy one for him. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his money. Jenkin street was just around the corner, and he felt that his thoughts had largely disappeared in anticipation of arriving to his destination.

Finally he rounded the corner, and the coffee house was in sight. He walked as swiftly as he could. The wind was against him, and the aroma of coffee was forcefully detected by his nostrils. He at last came to the entrance and waited for someone to go in or come out so that he could solicit their services. He peered inside to see if anyone was leaving soon. He was startled to see the woman that had spoke to him that morning sitting there. He was sure that she would help him. He drew close to the window to rap on it when he noticed that she had a set of interesting items with her. She turned and saw him before he could make a noise. An engaging smile spread across her beautiful face. She held up to him the items she had brought along, and smiled harder. She had his shoes and socks. She brought them out to him. He wordlessly took them from her, shaking off some of the sand that still remained on them. She stood there, smiling, evaluating him. When he had at last put them on, she opened up the conversation.

"Would you like some coffee? My treat," she said in a reassuring tone. Stunned that she had his shoes and socks, Jay went directly to the table and sat down. She went to the counter and bought him a cup of coffee. It was fixed just how he liked it. He held it in his hands, remembering again and appreciating fully for the first time how much he enjoyed that biting sense of warmth a fresh cup of coffee had. After a bit of silence, Jay put forward his first question. "How did you get these?" "These? Oh, well you left them, so I brought them to you." "But how did you get there? Do you know W, too?"

"Sure. Sure I do. W gave them to me to give to you." Jay sat up in the chair, leaned forward and looked right in the girl's eyes. There was enchantment there, a twinkle alive in the rich ocean of blue. He suddenly knew that if he stared there long enough he would arrive again at that far away land, that beautiful land. The girl blinked. She spoke softly. "The place you seek is all around you. It has always been here, the mystery of existence, the nature of reality. God is real, Jay, and He's a poet. He's a story teller. He wants you to fall in love with Him, not dissect Him. Can you understand that?"

"I have trouble believing that I'm just a story." The girl laughed. "Why, Jay, actually you're a story within a story! You're just going to have to deal with it. Be thankful for what you have, give glory to your maker for the purpose he has assigned you."

"What is my purpose?" Jay insisted. The girl took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Your sole purpose, Jay, has been to-" "Don't tell him," a voice interrupted. They both turned to the voice. It was W, and he wasted no time before sitting down to join them. Jay was confused, but the girl seemed not to mind the command. Jay grew panicky. "But I want to know!" W leaned forward and touched J's shoulder. "Jay, be glad enough that you have a purpose, that there is a reason why you exist. You may never know what it is in this life. The mysteries surrounding this are too deep even for me to grasp, why should we shroud the real issues? Jay, live each day as a day with meaning, because you are wanted. You serve a purpose. And that purpose pleases your maker."

"But I want to know who I am..." Jay practically whimpered. "Can't you just be happy knowing that I know who you are?" W said consolingly. There was silence from Jay, in fact, all three of them were quiet. Each of them were undoubtedly pondering different things. The girl seemed to sense the heartache that Jay was experiencing. She longed to set his mind at ease. At last she spoke. "Jay, have you ever read Pinocchio?" she began. After he nodded, she continued. "You and I are Pinocchio, W is Japetto, and above us all, well, there is God. And God has made it clear that God will one day bring W 'up' to be with him, to somehow share in his level of existence. But perhaps, just maybe, God will change us from wood to reality, we will share a higher level of reality because ultimately we too are God's creation. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I have not a clue," Jay said dejectedly. "Well, ponder it, Jay. Ponder it." At last W spoke as well, "Jay you have to forgive me, but I created you in my image, and that's all I could give. By definition the creator cannot impart more than he's got. Something must be lost in the translation. That is why you don't have free-will, and I do. Free-will is lost in the translation, and there's nothing I can do about it. But that doesn't mean that I as a creator cannot care for my creation, that I cannot interact, somehow with my creation. In the end, Jay, I am in the image of the ultimate Creator, but as you know me, I am simply the Word of a creator lower than the ultimate Creator. You essentially are made in His Shadow. But I have limitations that would mean that you are actually a corrupted shadow. But you and I both have this hope, Jay, that The Creator God will transform us both- restore us to complete reality, and we will both find our existence defined by our place in Him."

"I don't understand a word of that," Jay said again. "You don't, Jay, because I don't let you. It is not necessary for you. Be content, my friend, to know that I understand it," W said, standing. With that, W vanished. "It's interesting," Jay said, "I'll concede that. It just seems to deep for me!" "Now you're getting it," the girl said excitedly, "For you it is too deep, but not for all!"

"I love coffee," Jay said offhandedly. "That's a sure sign that you are in W's image," she said, laughing. "I feel that my whole life has been a blunder. It's been one stretch of arrogance and ignorance. I isolated myself from my friends, preventing real relationships to form. Could it be that the reason I don't have a relationship with God is that I isolated myself from Him?" "Indirectly or indirectly, that is always the reason." "Well, I've been a fool," Jay said. He was staring at the circle of black coffee in his mug. He felt the touch of a soft hand at his chin, raising it. It was the girl, and the touch did not seem to be anything more than compassion, meant only to lift his head from self-pity.

"It's time," she said, "That you begin living instead of wallowing in your arrogance and self-pity. Seize this day as the opportunity. Have not the gates of Hell been broken down this day?" Jay looked at her curiously. He did not know what she meant. He would ponder it. He was content knowing that someone knew what she meant. He didn't have to understand all of the details so long as he knew that far enough back stood someone who did. "Ma'am," Jay said. "I still don't know your name, and you seem really nice and all. I'm going to go back to my apartment. My friend is there, and I've gotta do what I can to deepen the relationship that I've managed to keep shallow all this time." The woman smiled. "Go, then."

Chapter 10

The next morning, Jay got up before the dawn. Life itself seemed transformed, although he couldn't quite place it. According to his routine, he readied himself for the day, and departed for his walk. That something was different was clear first from the scent in the air. It was not the smell of autumn anymore. He opened the door and stepped out onto a sandy beach. The sparkling ocean was before him and he could hear the rushing of a river against the background of the crashing waves. There was no sun, but the light was beautiful upon the waters anyway. He felt his breath quicken. Had his dreams been fulfilled so quickly?

He walked towards the river. He had already been this way before. Suddenly he realized that his tracks weren't the only tracks in the sand. After a short while he came upon what he had thought at first was a pile of stones. It was, in fact, a pile of shoes and socks. The tracks then continued toward the river. Jay smiled the widest smile he had ever put on his face. Real exuberance burned inside his being. There on the shore were Joe's ugly brown tennis shoes. S's galoshes were there too, strewn about with some long socks. The little white sneakers and dainty white socks of the unnamed woman were stacked in a neat pile. Jay laughed upon examining another pair, shiny and black: It was Dr. Em's assuredly!

And there was one more pair of shoes, it must be W's! Laughing, he hurriedly removed his shoes and socks, tripping, falling over himself, running towards the river. He knew the way. He'd been here before. He began wondering if he'd always been here, but had never seen it. Perhaps, he thought, I've always been here, but the chaff was here too. He didn't know, he couldn't figure it out. He didn't know if atheism and evolution allowed for this experience; he only knew that he'd always wanted to be part of something special and all of his efforts had done nothing to help him. It suddenly occurred to him that here he was within nature, understanding it at last, but only because he understood the supernatural- or, at least, glimpsed it long enough to see that it was more real than the existence he was living.

He realized, as he kicked up sand behind him, that his whole life he'd wanted to eat mealy oatmeal on his own rather than dine at a great feast with the Lord of Hosts. He was grateful that God had sought him out even though he'd rejected the invitation, thrown it away, in fact. He dived into the thick forest, quickly finding the path. The painted birds laughed above him, and he could hear, at a short distance, the sound of voices in the distance, laughing too. In fact, he had to wonder if all of creation was not laughing. The music of the crashing waterfall drew closer, and the moisture of the woods covered him now as much as the waterfall would shortly. This time, however, his companion would not be loneliness. He would be joined by equals, by the One that knows him, and- this was the final thought as he broke through the river's rippling skin in headfirst dive- perhaps the One that knows the One that knows him...