From the kitchen’s far reaches a kettle whistled, crying out for release into instant cocoa, the kettle signaling the beginning of his every day. In the office across the hall, three computers purred, waiting for his nimble fingers to pass on the wonders of his mind. This day, what he intended mattered little.
Cup of cocoa in hand, he crossed the hall. Three computer monitors watched him as he walked through the doorway. The first computer handled communications, the second was for creative, the third for business. The first computer’s monitor displayed a message: You can look at everything as though it is a miracle or you can look at everything as though nothing is a miracle. He sat. Where did this come from? Einstein, he thought he remembered. Who sent it? This philosophical thought did not arrive via email or instant messenger, or any other source connected to the computer. He felt a surge in heartbeat. When your computer starts doing strange things, it is best to walk away.
So, he walked. The smell of autumn was in the air. Trees had turned their seasonal yellow, gold, and orange. A plan had been in place for the day, but for this minor distraction. Back in the house his mind’s wanderings were interrupted by the rhythmic chiming of his communications computer, on it another message: Life just gets out of control, so you have to harness it. His pulse rate began to rise once more. He reached for a pen. On a legal pad he scribbled notes as thoughts tumbled in his mind, thoughts attempting to process the source and how the words managed to invade this machine.
On day two, the comm-computer offered: I have to go and do some good now. Day two offered an “I”…a person, somebody. Who would have, could have, the ability to control this computer?
The following morning Daniel arose to another computer message: I'm having difficulty falling asleep. Walk seemed more necessary than ever. Daniel walked, an escape from a computer that appeared to have taken on a life of its own. The “who” became more important than the “how”.
Another morning and another message: You stimulate my mind. Once again Daniel walked. Though the messages were incoming only, this message opened up a whole new question. He had done nothing on this computer since the first message. Years back there was an article about some having the ability to communicate without words: mental telepathy. Lately, telepathy had been under more scrutiny, but without convincing evidence that the human mind actually had that capacity.
Walking in the woods of the what was known as the East Meadow, in the midst of tall pines, Daniel imagined a face, an attractive face with blonde hair lighted by sun’s rays. There’d been no special person in his life for quite awhile. Maybe desperation was setting in…a need for someone to walk with, to talk to.
Every morning now a different greeting radiated from that same computer. Your words mean so much to me. Every morning demanded a walk into the East Meadow. During those walks Daniel pondered, trying to understand, and at the same wondering about the sprite he had seen in these same woods, hoping she would somehow again appear.
After his latest morning walk, Daniel returned home for lunch. In the kitchen he heard the familiar chimes. On the monitor he discovered: Don't be afraid of the I love have for you, for it is an innocent love.
In the evening the computer offered more: I think about you all the time…if I could taste your thoughts they would be delicious.
On the very next day he read: For some reason we were given a gift. And on the next: How wonderful…only four more days til we meet.
Anxiety had been growing day after day, but now Daniel felt overwhelmed, afraid and, at the same time, excited at the thought of…of what. A functioning computer was leaving messages daily, he had conjured a spirit in the woods. Was there a connection? Could his imagination possibly turn to reality?
In the evening he read: It would be nice to sit across from you and have a cup of tea.
On Saturday, a week later, Daniel began with his usual walk through the East Meadow, October breezes feeling more like summer, the sky a deeper blue than he could remember, not a cloud in sight. The walk was cut short, disrupted by thoughts of a glowing white convertible requiring a last chance roll before the on-set of winter. He had worn his white windbreaker, the one with the red racing stripes. He imagined turning the key, the machine roaring to life, 400 horses impatient for a chance to show off.
An hour later, Daniel exited the cross-county highway, his white machine seeming to know something he didn’t. In a shopping mall parking lot he circled slowly, not looking for a parking space, but as if looking for something, or someone. Daniel stepped gently on the brakes, then shut the engine off. They sat in silence.
It was just before sunset when something caught his eye, its paint glowing red, its windshield reflecting blinding white bands of light. The red machine looped slowly through the parking lot, then turned into the open spot next to Daniel.
Daniel pressed down on the window button. The words: ”four days ‘til we meet” rushed to mind, his entire body abruptly tingling. “This can’t be happening,” he thought. Her window opened. She was blonde, with sky-blue eyes.
She pointed. “There’s a place just over there, across the lot. It would be nice to sit and have a cup of tea.”
THE END
