Scale is the problem.
Just to be able to bend the mind to imagine the vast amount of distance between these planets that lies in the habitable zone and its nearest neutron star, Sol.
A distance so massive yet it is the very distance that encouraged life to form on the planet. The rays from the sun are what keep us alive, keep us breathing and mean that I can write to you now.
It would take two and a half thousand years to walk to the sun. If you had started in the Year of the Consulship of Camerinus and Longus you would only just be reaching the star now.
So now consider the distance to the edge of our solar system and through interstellar space (of which one of our spacecraft, the furthest man made thing is traveling after leaving earth 35 years ago), beyond our nearest neighbors, other systems with names such as Alpha Centauri, Vega and Andromeda. Through the center of our Milky Way, where the stars bulge together and out of the other side past next-door galaxies watching exploding white dwarf supernovae.
The distance from Earth to the sun now looks paltry.
And of all this distance, all these galaxies we know only a few. When the count reaches 500 billion we create the edges of the universe and of time and space itself. How small are we now?
And if the universe sits alongside another, and another? Stacked upon each other like the cells of the flesh? Planets orbiting suns like neurons orbit electrons? Each universe attached to another in one long loop of causality? Maybe the body that you are sitting in now is made up of trillions of universes, galaxies, planets, lifeforms.
If you drove with enough force and speed could you penetrate the outer bounds of a universe and into the next one, and then again into the next one? Every time growing more infinitesimally tinier. How would such an imperceptibly miniscule thing be able to cause any change in such a universe?
The problem is with scale.
Green.
The phone was buzzing in George’s pocket. The class had just been set to silent study for the last ten minutes of the period and right now were meant to be considering correct grammar usage in a series of statements. Always something there to catch you out George had thought seconds before the phone started vibrating in his pocket. He looked around in embarrassment; it was a school rule to have phones left in lockers until the end of day and one that was being strictly monitored by the teachers. The buzzing was barely audible but by no means silent. After three tries it stopped and George breathed a sigh of relief. He cautiously placed his hand on the phone and felt for the off button and held it down for a few seconds feeling one last faint white as the machine switched off. Then went back to his quiet study inwardly happy that he wasn’t going to have his prize gadget taken from him today.
Ten minutes later the bell rang and the class abruptly got up. Mr. Clives stood up and started yelling instructions and telling not to hurry or run as they filed out. He then shouted “George Goodman” and sat down again and George stopped for a minute and realized he had been summoned. He ran his hand through the front of his wild brown hair and slowly finished packing his stuff, delaying the inevitable.
“Yes, Sir” he said casually approaching the front of the class, the last few students were leaving and tittering to themselves.
“Right George, I know that you think you can just dream your life away and if you stay quiet that nobody will notice you but I am here to inform you that you have been noticed.” All at once, sharply.
“Sir?”
“Look. It's gonna take hell of a lot more for you to get anywhere in these exams than what you are doing now.” Said Mr.Clives looking up at him. “And we do talk in the staff room you know? It seems I am not the only one who thinks you are dragging your feet.”
George didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t trying not to get noticed, he was as surprised as anyone about this outburst.
“It’s just that English has been your best subject up until now and this work” he gestured at the papers on his desk “isn’t good enough.”
“I am sorry, I am trying…”
“No you are not. Let me refresh your mind” and he reeled off a list of quite appalling grades for the last six months.
“Now look at this' ' and he scrambled about in a folder producing an older essay with what looked like a happy face and a B+ scribbled on the front. “This was excellent work and all in my recent memory and believe me in this place that is quite an achievement, George!” he smiled, obviously trying to add some humor.
There was a moment of silence and a curiously singular gust of wind wobbled the large classroom windows.
George tried to explain himself “It’s not that I haven’t tried, I just… I have trouble concentrating at the moment. And I feel tired… all the time.”
“I know,” said Mr. Clives, suddenly with a kind and empathetic look on his face. “I do remember being your age, you know. It was crap as I remember.
But you have got to pull your finger out, exams are only months if not weeks away and you are not doing work that is representative of your abilities. If you are tired then you need to sleep! I tell you that I have some exercises that help with concentration, I will bring them in for you ok?”
“Yes, sir”
“Let's get you back to this standard shall we George?” he tapped the essay “it’s a few months of hard work and I want to see you do well because you are a good student”
“I understand, sir,” muttered George. Another thing he thought.
Clives smiled again and let out a big breath. “OK, you can go”, and George quickly turned to leave but not before Clives offered behind him:
“And don’t bring your bloody phone into class”
Inbetween Silence
This exchange had made him late for lunch and he was hungry so he tried not to wolf down his food sitting on his own in the cafeteria. He only managed a few minutes of social time when he bumped into his friend Akbi on the steps by the swimming pool and they chatted for a bit about meaningless trivia. It was only when heading back to register for the afternoon period did he remember his phone and fish it out of his pocket wondering who had called him. It was unlikely to be anyone from school as they were subject to the same rules and he barely had any other contacts from the real world so he wasn’t surprised to see the message saying “Dad- 1 new voicemail”.
He had five minutes until registration and glancing about he decided to listen to the message but ducked down at the back of the water tanks behind the swimming pool so any teachers would not see him. One dressing down was enough for today.
He clicked on the message and held the phone up to his ears, there was a moment of silence at the start of the recording, and then his father’s voice.
“George, it’s Dad. "More silence, something was wrong.
“I am so sorry, George. About this, about any of this. I just need you to know that there was nothing that I could have done. I just had to keep you and Claire safe. And most important, just, please remember that it's not what it looks like.”
The signal was breaking up a bit and so was the voice
“…keep any of this. But now you must listen to me very carefully. George, in two years you are going to hear or see the phrase "LIEGE BARRON” . He said it again very boldly and clearly. “LIEGE BARRON”
“You MUST remember this! It’s so important and you will only hear it after you are eighteen. You will never hear it again until then and it is so important you recognize it. I know this sounds crazy. I have to go. For good. I love you. I love you so much Georgie” then another bookend of recorded silence and the message stopped.
George stood in shock. A wind up? Not like his Dad to joke around like this. It didn’t make sense. He hit the button again and the message replayed exactly the same but this time by the end of the message he was up on his feet, running over the back school field in the direction of his house.