A Midnight Clear

An impromptu trip on a winter’s night…

There’s nothing like a cloudless night in the middle of winter. Just stepping out on the front porch can be an adventure, especially if there is new snow on the ground, muting the sounds of Earth and allowing the heavens to ring like fine crystal in the night. The stars seem to invite the Earth-bound observer to travel among them. But such a thing is as impossible as entering a John Constable painting. Interstellar space is the realm of fantasy or science fiction and may not be traversed by humans for centuries, if at all. Even now, the moon is still a stretch and Mars is even more so. The crystal sky is as inhospitable as it is off-limits. A few planets and a few thousand bright stars out of billions will have to do for now, at least so I thought.

I used to joke, “I’m taking out the trash. If I’m not back in five minutes, call the state police.” It’s not that funny, but it’s something to say, like, “Don’t set the house on fire while I’m gone.” The odds of a mishap during a one-minute chore are astronomically against, although I had an acquaintance who slipped on the ice while getting the mail and later died of a brain hemorrhage, so going missing is not impossible.

Many things are possible, if highly unlikely. In a way, my entire existence is an exercise in improbability. All the right people had to meet, marry, and have children. I had to survive a concussion from falling down the basement stairs as a child, a potentially fatal car accident in the 1970’s, and several near-misses after that, as well as long-term cardiac arrhythmia and bouts of atrial fibrillation. Modern medicine has helped, as has providence, but I have defied the odds. In a sense, all of us are lottery winners on a grand scale. Many planets are devoid of life, but when conditions are right, there can be holy empires, advertising agencies, political parties, conspiracy theories, and beanie babies.

Defense lawyers often ask, “is it possible?” to suggest reasonable doubt for their clients. Yes, it’s possible I was dreaming or I’m delusional. It’s possible any story I tell will either under- or over-shoot the truth. It’s possible, no matter how improbable, a thing is true even if we believe it can’t be. The odds against life itself are overwhelming, yet here we are.

I rolled the trash bin to the curb. The points of light above were brilliant in the midnight darkness. I wanted to see it all up close, as absurd as that sounds. And under my breath, I said, “I wish I could fly there and see them for myself.” At the time, I had no idea someone would take me up on my wish. No sooner than I had said it, a beam of light appeared from almost directly above, large enough to encompass either me or the trash bin. It didn’t seem to me the light was there to collect the trash. Even though I had seen dozens of alien abduction scenes with bright lights drawing people into spaceships, I stepped into the light.

At first, nothing happened. I began to think it could be a helicopter, but there was no telltale beating of the rotors. Just a low-pitched thrum and a barely-perceptible modulation of the column of light. It seemed to mark the spot around me for a few moments, then I was not in my driveway anymore.

I lost consciousness. I awakened in a room with the blackest walls I’ve ever seen. I thought of that special black paint people are experimenting with. I know they were walls, because I felt them carefully – after walking face first into one of them. The room was partially illuminated, with a single mushroom-like stool in one corner and a metal-based recliner in the corner opposite. It was as if I was part of the night sky – minus the stars.

“You wish to see,” a soothing voice said. “Choose to remain with us and you will see.”

I asked, “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Your questions will be answered in time,” the voice replied.

I thought of time. It occurred to me I might be gone a lot longer than five minutes.

“Will I ever come home again?” I asked.

The voice said, “If you wish to return, you may. We will do everything possible to return you safely to this location.”

I asked, “When?”

“Whenever you wish” was the answer.

“What if I choose not to go?” I asked.

A beam of light like the one I stepped into earlier appeared on the other side of the room. There was no abduction, no compulsion, no coercion. Just as I willingly stepped into the light on the ground, I could have stepped into it then.

Instead, I said, “I’ll stay. I want to see whatever you’d like to show me.”

“Very well,” the voice said. And the beam of light switched off. The wall at the foot of the recliner revealed a field of stars, the same stars I was admiring from trash bin level, now a little bit closer, it seemed to me. The voice instructed me to lie down. Soon the moon passed by off to my right. I could observe the stars above the horizon of my feet. They began to blur and bend. This was the only way I could sense motion. At the time, my situation was almost too strange to be scary, but my heart was racing, my pulse obscured half of what I could have heard, and I admit I felt more afraid than at any other time in my life. I wondered what I’d just agreed to. I hadn’t even met these…were they people? How did I know I wasn’t going to be food or just a test subject? Be careful what you wish for, a wise man once said.

It was not possible for me to gauge the passage of time in a small, dark room traveling at truly ludicrous speed. My watch seemed to stand still. It had kept excellent time up until that night. After what seemed like only minutes, I thought I saw Saturn, as big as a harvest moon, pass by. It dawned on me that whatever I was riding in could be moving faster than light. I later learned that at faster than light speeds, all we could experience were composite images, put together from sub-light video bursts. The outer planets were apparently not that interesting to my hosts. We were headed out of the solar system.

The “ship” – the term seems impertinent, considering that the Mayflower and the USS Ford were both ships and this was as far beyond a ship as a nuclear submarine is beyond an inner tube. It was a vessel for galactic transportation. I was grateful my hosts knew enough to provide an Earth-like atmosphere and a good approximation of Earth gravity.

I don’t know why my hosts chose to offer me a free trip to another star, a Christmas star at that. I didn’t want to joke about being their billionth customer. At one point my hosts said they could read my thoughts. It seems they had read the same thought in my mind on numerous occasions. “When you wish upon a star,” came to mind. Again, I didn’t want to explain the reference, although my hosts asked many embarrassing questions about Earth culture and seemed to be more understanding than I had any right to expect. In hindsight, their appearance, attitude, and technology made them seem angelic.

I couldn’t explain to them why it was important to keep up with the Kardashians or why Earth people were so fascinated with celebrities in general. My hosts acknowledged the importance of athletic competition but were perplexed about why certain Earth athletes were awarded such large amounts of money while teachers, nurses, and others responsible for carrying on civilization were hardly compensated in comparison. Apparently, my hosts had outgrown their need for money and collecting needless things. They had also found a way to put political rivalries aside. They explained that if they hadn’t done this, they could not explore the stars. Their starships – my term, not theirs – required more resources than a “politically-encumbered” – their term, not mine – society could manage.

As we left the solar system, the ship transitioned into a mode of propulsion I can’t really explain. We talk about “worm holes” and “warp drive” as if these might be in our future. My hosts discovered that there was a way to literally “hitch your wagon to a star.” As far as I can understand it, their vessel was propelled by the vibratory energy of the cosmos. We have been calling this “dark energy.” Somehow, they have harnessed the hidden vibrations that connect the stars to travel at unbelievable velocities.

We arrived at my hosts’ planet after what seemed like several days. In that time, I met a few of them on their ship. They were human-like, slightly built, and somewhat taller than the average human. All the adults I met were taller than I am. They resembled the elves in Lord of the Rings, but without the pointy ears, certainly the opposite of the little green men many people think of. Their skin could best be described as water-resistant, more light purple than blue, and I later learned that they were well-suited to a sort of amphibious existence, comfortable for long periods in the water, without the “pruning” effect we are accustomed to. In fact, after we went for a swim on their planet, their children found my fingertips and toes a novelty and couldn’t get enough of touching the little ridges and giggling, much like Earth children.

Their ship was a flattened sphere, not really a saucer, but approaching that shape. The central portion of the vessel was a hollow cylinder, bored all the way through, like a tunnel, except with a ring-shaped device on each end. I think they referred to these two points as “couplers,” which I understood were important to their propulsion and power system. It seemed to me the ship was poised to ride an invisible cable through the middle, like an elevator or cable car – one that just happened to be able to contain a baseball diamond. At first, I was honored to have a room with a view, but later I learned that all the cabins had a view. The interior was reserved for machine rooms, supplies, and commons areas.

At no point did I feel threatened by any of my hosts. They were kind and respectful, if sometimes a little condescending, which I understood as a member of a rather backward species. At one point I mentioned the reports that described aliens as “grey” in color. They reminded me that in my cabin, I looked grey as well. Lighting can have that effect. Their eyes were somewhat larger than human eyes, like Disney characters, but this was an advantage to them. They could detect a wider spectrum of wavelengths than humans and were much more sensitive in low-light conditions, somewhat like owls.

I asked my hosts why they brought me to their home planet. As I understand it, they believed I would be able to keep an open mind about what I saw. Apparently, they value the ability to reserve judgment, to take things as they come, so-to-speak. I hope to God they did not read all my apprehensions and ignorant notions. Maybe they saw me as a pet. I don’t know. But somehow, I think it’s important to be more like a dog, and less like a Karen. Could they have read this in my mind? Again, I don’t know. Certainly, human dissatisfaction is a constant throughout history. Sometimes I think it can do as much harm as good. While dissatisfaction can lead to new discoveries and technological progress, it can also lead to prejudice, oppression, and war. People who are not satisfied with what they have can all too easily make a grab for what someone else has. Moderating our desires is difficult.

My hosts did not claim to have mastered their emotions or their desires. However, it became evident that they had found ways to keep their harmful desires in check. They lived by a set of principles. Much like Hippocrates, they believe in above all doing no harm to one another. Like Jesus, they try to practice a “do unto others” philosophy. Like native Americans, they value wholeness and community. They believe in sustainable resources – plant-based diets, solar power, reusable commodities, and so on. Living in harmony with nature is not open to debate – take care of your planet and your planet will take care of you – that’s a rough translation. Any desire to hoard resources is viewed as an illness. Resources must be used purposefully to improve life for all, not just a select few. And weapons are forbidden, except for extreme circumstances involving self- or planetary-defense.

Maybe they use my planet as a counter-example, a cautionary tale to tell their children – about the consequences of rampant selfishness and hyper-individualism. Again, I don’t know. Certainly, nobody there ever accused me of being “one of them” or attacked me for being part of a wasteful and narcissistic culture. But what else is it when a painting by a long-dead artist can sell for half-a-billion dollars while young artists are homeless? What else is it when billionaires spend a tiny fraction of their fortune on yachts and private jets while veterans of wars who helped them secure their fortunes must rely on paltry handouts? And what else is it when an “influencer” can make many times as much money as someone who actually produces something useful to others?

The children of my purple friends referred to me as “the pink one.” I think it was a term of endearment. As in, “Hey, pink one! Look at this.” We talked with each other through in-ear translators. I suppose Apple and Samsung watches will work this way in another few decades. Yet, it is quite a trick to translate languages from two different worlds in a tiny device. Such a thing must have been a societal goal. We will never have one language on Earth – the failing of Babel – but we can agree it’s important to understand one another. After a few days, children were picking up many English words and I tried to learn a few of their words. It is reassuring that nouns, verbs, and adjectives have analogs even light-years away.

There is so much to tell. My hosts were as hospitable as Scotsmen, even though they could have eaten me for lunch. They protected me like royalty although they did not believe in royalty. They fostered the dignity of everyone and celebrated differences. There seemed to be no “preferred” religious or political beliefs and those who seemed to be in charge willingly practiced a system of rotation – that is, taking turns – so no one would become entrenched in a position of power. It was clear that ideals on their world are more important than individuals. They do not have time for or interest in anyone becoming a “ruler,” much less an emperor or dictator. God told the ancient Israelites that they would regret having kings. Apparently, my hosts had tried kings in the past and vowed never to allow that sort of thing again.

Maybe they read my mind. I used to teach that if we allowed the king to become law rather than the law to be king, we were doomed to disaster. Again, I don’t know. Yet, I found my hosts to be kindred spirits.

Maybe spirits they were. On this night before Christmas, I had an encounter that has left me changed. They came upon a midnight clear and showed me a world without most of the troubles of my own, a world where people can not only dream of travel to the stars but can visit other planets and experience other cultures without judgment, hatred, or fear. Like the angels of old, these beings showed me that living in peace and goodwill was possible, even if improbable.

All I can say is that after a few weeks on their planet, I decided it was time to come home. They agreed, although the children wanted me to stay. It seemed they would never tire of showing me their world and watching my reactions. Maybe I really was like their new puppy.

I found myself standing in my driveway, the same night I left. My journey felt like a dream, but a dream so real that I wanted to reach out and touch it just as I wanted to see the stars up close before my adventure began. When I came back inside the house, my wife said, “It’s been over four minutes. I was about to call the state police.”