“If he now failed, this world would hereafter be
redeemed... not by a second crucifixion: perhaps -- who knows -- not even a
second Incarnation... some act of even more appalling love, some glory of yet
deeper humility. For he had seen already how the pattern grows and how from
each world it sprouts into the next through some other dimension. The small
external evil which Satan had done [on Mars] was only a line: the deeper evil
he had done on Earth a square: if Venus fell, her evil would be a cube -- her Redemption
beyond conceiving. Yet redeemed she would be.” – C.S. Lewis, Perelendra
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Proctor walked down the cavernous hall, his every move
causing echoes that seemed endless. Another level of this building with no
sign of life, another disappointing development in the attempt to make contact
with another civilization. Clearly, there had been a civilization here, but it
had been a long time since there had been a living being from that culture with
whom contact could be had.
The communication device buzzed into life. “Proctor, find
anything?”
“No indications of anyone having been here for quite some
time, Captain, but this place looks like it was a library. Looks like some kind
of data-ports set up along the walls.”
“That’s something, then. Any chance of using the L.D.T.
(linguistic diagnostic tool) to see if we can decipher what kind of data we
might be looking at?”
“Just about to check that out. I’ll let you know as soon
as I know anything.”
Setting the L.D.T. on the screen closest to the hall
entrance, Proctor switched it on, set it on “Download” and “Interpret” and
watched the screed as the device tried to calibrate to whatever unknown
language the apparently long extinct inhabitants of Planet 1016 had used to
record the information stored in these data ports. Star Colony 14’s research
team had been incredibly excited on arriving on the surface of the planet and
finding what looked to be a city, but, the little exploring they had done had
not turned up any residents of the city, either living or dead.
Suddenly, the screen lit up. Proctor gripped the side of
the data-port eagerly, his hands nervously sweating within his space suit at
the idea of reading communication from another intelligent species. “Captain,
I’ve got some information here.”
“What does it say?” He could hear the excitement in her
voice, as much as she was trying to sound in control and prepared.
“If you are reading this, then {UNKNOWN} has done the
impossible. {UNKOWN} told us this would not be the end. He told us that He
would find us even in the never-world. He has promised us that even
non-existence will not separate us from His love. We don’t know how {UNKNOWN}
could be telling the truth, but He has never been shown to be false before, and
now that you read this, we know He has again kept His promises. …It’s
uploading more information, Captain. Could this be some kind of religious
journal?”
“Too soon to say. The device apparently doesn’t recognize
the characters that compose name of this ‘Unknown’ person. Strange…”
“There’s more, now. I don’t know how much you know. Do
you know of how the Presstant People fell in love with the non? How we learned
to extinguish the light within us? Do you know how we conquered death and doing
and being by pushing ourselves through the veil of life into the world where we
never existed in the first place? We violated the laws of creation at a level
that no law had ever been written against, because it was thought impossible
that a people could ever become corrupt and lost enough to desire and pursue
the moment before their reality was real? This is the story of the Presstants,
however. We are forever bent from the pattern of right. We are constantly drawn
to a darkness bereft of all hint of light. …It’s uploading again. Are you
understanding any of this?”
“You were right when you said it sounded religious,” the
Captain admitted. “And philosophical. How can someone go to the point of having
never existed? And, who would want that?”
“Out of all first communications, what are the odds we’d
hear something like this?” Proctor marveled, anxiously awaiting the next
notification of further translation. The screen finally shifted to a new screen
of words, which Proctor read. “{UNKNOWN} said He came from the Source of
Existence and was Himself the Source. He said He would give us what we needed
to return to the light, to rethread the unraveling of the very structure of our
past, present and future. But, we didn’t listen. We refused to believe it was
possible to be restored. And, so {UNKNOWN} has done the impossible. He has
entered into the non-world. The One who has always existed and through whom all
existence was formed has been made as though He never existed. He has taken
this risk to find us on the other side, to meet us in the realm of non-being
and create a new home for those who have forever severed the cords that
anchored them to this life.”
The Captain took an audible breath, having apparently
been listening in some form of suspended animation. “Wow. Does this sound like
any religion you’ve ever heard of? Apparently, this ‘Unknown’ person is some
kind of god? Some kind of god whom, I guess, no longer exists?”
Proctor, the world and planetary history expert on the
mission, had little insight on this point. “It doesn’t quite fit any of the God
narratives from the cultures I’ve studied.”
“God or mythical hero of some kind, how can we be reading
about Him if he never existed?”
Proctor was silent for a minute. “Captain, have you ever
gone there in your mind? To the point of non-existence, I mean?”
“I can’t say I follow, Proctor. I’ve thought about what
it would be like to die before if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, I’m talking about going to a place in your mind
where you imagine what you would feel, what you would be if you had never
existed.” Proctor’s voice began to shake, with fear or desperate need to
describe what he meant, he wasn’t sure. “It’s a place of complete isolation and
unbearable clarity. You see yourself in a terrifying third person-perspective,
a character dependent on the whims of some unidentifiable author.”
The Captain took her turn to be silent. Then she gave a
short laugh. “You history and philosophy experts are too deep for me. I’m just
trying to complete this mission safely, and you’re asking me to imagine
something that no one has ever experienced.”
Proctor ignored the newly lit screen for a second. “What
if it’s possible to push into that space, Captain? To violate all laws of
being, go to the other side and not exist anymore? And, what if God, whatever It is, was…?”
“Leaving all the ‘what if’s’ and philosophical gymnastics
aside,” the Captain interrupted, “if a God who is the source of existence
suddenly does not exist, then what would be left? How would we even be reading
this report?”
Proctor looked down again at the screen. “Listen to this,
Captain. If you are reading this, you must help us. The only way for us to
exist, but most importantly for {UNKNOWN} who is the best of us, the reason for
us to exist, to come back into the plane of reality is for you to remember.
Remember the stories that have never been written. Imagine a faith in a Source
who would do something unimaginable to bring you back from your state of
despair and destruction. Dare to think the unthinkable. Enter a world of
forgotten dreams. {UNKNOWN} will meet you there. {UNKNOWN} will carry us to
that place, {UNKNOWN} will keep us there, and {UNKNOWN} will return us through
you. Captain, that’s it. Captain…? Captain…?”
*************
Fletcher’s eyes fluttered open and he shut them tightly
again to prevent the searing glare of the red sun from damaging his eyes.
Again, he couldn’t remember the details, but he’d definitely had another dream
about explorers in space. His mind must be longing to escape from the earth as
it was left after the nuclear war. At least, that’s how psychologists had
explained it; these vivid stories of the stars that disappeared upon waking
were apparently a common experience for many post-war humans. Fletcher stood up
and walked toward the church across the street, hoping to get some shelter. On
top of the church steeple, he saw the familiar statue of the Heavenly Father,
with the Mourning Dove carved resting on His shoulder. As he passed the
entrance into the sanctuary he murmured, “In the Name of the Father and Spirit,
Two-and-One, One-And-Two, I Come.” Behind him, the unrelenting heat of the sun
raged on.
