BOOK 1: SERENDIPITY / CH. 3:PROPHESY?
FRIDAY EVENING
The second time in only a few hours, John walked to the park. This time though Sarah
was with him.
“I'm not looking for romance, for a wife, Sarah, no matter what Kate said about matchmaking just now. I don't know why I'm so concerned for your healing. I guess it's partly out of a sense of unfairness at the thought that I'm mostly healed and you're not, even though you're the younger one, even though you saved my life. It doesn't seem fair.”
“Could you tell me how that happened, how did the scream of a 10 year old save your life?”
“Sorry, I guess I assumed you knew. I was there in the centre food court, with Sally, my wife, and both sets of parents. It was a celebratory meal. We'd,”
tears filled his eyes but he could continue. “We'd just had our first wedding anniversary and seen the scans of our baby. But my mother couldn't eat gluten, Sally's father didn't eat meat, I'm not huge on eggs, and Sally craved pancakes that week, so we'd thought that if we tried the food court we could all get something we wanted. Then, just as we were sitting down, we heard you scream, and looking round you were pointing straight at the rocket arcing down towards us. I tried to get Sally under the table — it was a big thick metal sheet you know, but somehow she twisted me down so I was under her, rather than me on top like I'd planned. And then it went off. The table took the worst of the blast and then it crashed over. Smashed Sally's head, pinned my hip. Our parents were killed by the blast.”
“So you saw me pointing to the missile while it was still outside the dome?”
“Yes. I learned later that it had to be at just the right speed and angle to get through the forcefield, and was actually going quite slowly as it penetrated.”
“No more than 5 metres per second, no more than 10 degrees from the normal, or from horizontal. Standard entry spec for a forcefield for a hundred years. Keeps the rain and bullets out, along with the most dangerous storm-blown debris, lets people in, unless they're really sprinting.”
“I bow to your superior knowledge. From your physics?”
“Yes. Special interest, you might say.”
“Why do you ask about when you were pointing?”
“It's an old nightmare I had, that I saw a pretty bird flying around the sky, and then it was a dragon and came to get us. No one ever told me I'd seen the rocket before it entered. It would make sense — I must have seen the retro-rocket as it slowed for final approach.”
“And like any sensible child, you screamed when you saw a dragon.”
“Exactly.”
“But your explosive head is dragon free?”
“Absolutely. Not one. Just noise.”
“Which the computer counsellors decided was a memory of the blast-wave or the fuel release?”
“Probably, but neither of those work. The fuel release is quick. The blast-wave even quicker, and there is no continuous roar.”
“What about the rocket itself?”
“Ha! I looked that up. Once it'd penetrated the field it fired the nose to clear the way, and then the payload was shot, like a firework mortar out of the airframe. One bang, no wings, rockets or anything else surplus. Less chance that wings would get caught in tangle nets, interior structures, or that sort of thing. No need to burn all that fuel getting the whole lot back up to flight speed, just a couple of quick bangs.”
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“So, four bangs, no roar. What about the shouting of the crowd?”
“You tell me, was there any? I don't remember any, but my parents wrapped me between them. A living blast protector.”
“No, I don't remember any long shouting. Just a few people like me shouting ‘get down,’ then boom.”
“So Sally saved your life, not me. What was she like?”
“Blonde, long shapely legs, stop-the-conversation-gorgeous as they used to say. Witty, great conversationalist, and mid-way through a doctorate. What she saw in me, I realy don't know. She was the girl next door, a month older than me. Maybe she scared other boys away with her brains, but I got her, much to everyone's shock.”
“I bet the other girls hated her, just for existing. If I were looking for romance, which I'm not as far as I can tell, then I'd hate her for such perfection. How can anyone hope to compete against her?”
“Not that you're competing, but just by being alive? She's been dead for ten years. I miss her a lot, but she doesn't talk back. I spent a long time talking to her grave, but eventually God told me he wasn't going to give her back to me in this life, and I should get on with being alive.”
“But she'll never age in your memory, and so... no one could ever come close to winning your heart.”
“Sally's been taken from me, and she's gone. If my body starts working as originally designed, then, well, ‘it's not good for man to live alone’.”
“What about the other sides of marriage — I cannot believe I'm having this conversation by the way. You're almost old enough to be my dad — companionship, friendship, things like that?”
“I miss them, but, I guess I'm too traditional or something. I'm not going to ask any woman, no matter how nice, to commit herself to me for life unless by some divine intervention I'm able to consummate the marriage, give her the chance to rear our children, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, I see. So until you recover or meet a woman who is similarly injured, you're going to confine yourself to singleness?”
“Well I must admit, I hadn't thought of the injured bride idea.”
“So right now, if someone were really after you, then they should rush off and have drastic surgery?”
“Ah, no. I don't think the whole self-mutilation thing appeals, really. I think that'd put me right off them. This conversation is getting really surreal, isn't it?”
“Only because you're being so pig-headed about refusing God's command!” she paused in shock at herself. “Did I say that? Wow!”
“Urm, yes, you said it. Would you like to elaborate?”
“Urm. I'm not sure. I'll try. It just came to my mind. I haven't been very consistent in my faith since, you know. But I've never really given up on the idea of Him. And then there you are, a convinced believer telling me earlier on today that I should get serious with God, and then saying God had told you to get on with your life, that your days of mourning were over, and yet you're refusing to contemplate love because you don't think any woman would be satisfied with a relationship that doesn't include babies! What sort of obedience is that?”
“I am rebuked. Have you been praying by any chance?”
“I did say a prayer or two while I was waiting for you. I urm sought forgiveness and prayed that you'd react well when I told you that I wasn't going to keep you on as counsellor. Why?”
“Hmm. Snap by the way, oh, I also prayed that God would bring you healing and restore your relationship with him. Sarah, I didn't tell you that God told me my days of mourning were over. But He did.”
“So, I am either a good guesser, a mind reader or a prophetess? Which do you pick?”
“I don't know, but you've got my attention whichever you are. You're pretty special, I think. I've never been rebuked by a prophetess/mind-reader on a first date before.”
“I thought this wasn't a date.”
“Given the subjects covered, what would you call it?”
“I think I'd call it a good foundation for a future friendship, wherever it goes after that. Maybe we can call it a date in retrospect when we're both healed?”
“Also spracht the prophetess?”
“Eh?”
“Sorry, bad German. I think it means ‘Thus spoke’ — was that prophesy or hope, I wonder? Both of us healed.”
“I still don't know why I trust you so much. I've never had this sort of conversation with anyone. It's weird.”
“So, would it fit the prophetess or mind reader hypothesis?”
“Pass, but since we're looking at those ideas, I wonder if my exploding head might fit the mind-reader hypothesis better.”
“Hmm. But the rebuke was such a shock to us both that I'd put that as a score for prophetess.”
“John, this is a totally unbelievable conversation.”
“It is. But, it's getting late. May I accompany you home? I've felt protective towards you since I heard your name weeks ago, and after today...”
“You're taking this knight image even more seriously?”
“I don't know. But I know I want to know you're safely home.”