Trispero Read online

  TRISPERO

  Dr. Sean Adelman

  Copyright © 2015 Dr. Sean Adelman

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1508477825

  ISBN 13: 9781508477822

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1: SEATTLE—2330

  CHAPTER 2: SEATTLE—2002

  CHAPTER 3: SEATTLE—2002

  CHAPTER 4: SEATTLE—2002

  CHAPTER 5: SEATTLE—2330

  CHAPTER 6: SEATTLE—2004

  CHAPTER 7: SEATTLE—2004

  CHAPTER 8: SEATTLE—2004

  CHAPTER 9: SEATTLE—2330

  CHAPTER 10: SEATTLE—2014

  CHAPTER 11: ANN ARBOR—2014

  CHAPTER 12: SEATTLE—2014

  CHAPTER 13: ANN ARBOR—2014

  CHAPTER 14: ANN ARBOR—2014

  CHAPTER 15: SEATTLE—2014

  CHAPTER 16: ANN ARBOR—2014

  CHAPTER 17: ORCAS ISLAND—2014

  CHAPTER 18: ANN ARBOR—2014

  CHAPTER 19: BELLINGHAM—2014

  CHAPTER 20: SEATTLE—2014

  CHAPTER 21: COLORADO—2014

  CHAPTER 22: SEATTLE—2014

  CHAPTER 23: DENVER—2014

  CHAPTER 24: ANN ARBOR—2015

  CHAPTER 25: ANN ARBOR—2015

  CHAPTER 26: DENVER—2015

  CHAPTER 27: ANN ARBOR—2015

  CHAPTER 28: DENVER—2015

  CHAPTER 29: DENVER—2015

  CHAPTER 30: ANN ARBOR—2015

  CHAPTER 31: SEATTLE—2016

  CHAPTER 32: SEATTLE—2330

  1

  SEATTLE—2330

  “The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.”

  —Albert Einstein

  “Our Intellect gives us vision so that we may see the obstacles we face. It is our Humanity that binds us together in commonality toward greatness.” —Trispero

  The room was unusually quiet: no whispers, no sounds from the other students shifting restlessly in their seats. Where was Mrs. Lawson? Alucia’s teacher was nowhere to be seen. She looked around the room; all of her classmates were there, but seemed frozen in time, not breathing, not moving. The window! From the corner of her eye, she could sense movement. Alucia knew she was supposed to stay in her seat, but she had to see. With her first movement, everyone in the room turned toward her. Alucia could sense their gaze, but she was completely focused on the window. Moving across the sky was the hint of a vessel; it appeared white but only because it was reflecting the clouds around it. There was no sound, only a sense of speed as it moved through the sky.

  “Mother,” Alucia said under her breath as she realized everyone’s eyes were still on her. No one spoke, but they all had the same inquisitive look: Who are you? Why are you here? You’re different.

  Alucia knew those were her own feelings but it didn’t matter. It felt so real in their faces. “I’m not going to make it!” Alucia leapt from her desk, running for the door which had only just appeared. Faster, faster, she willed her feet to move faster. The air was cool and thin so her breathing came easy. She knew she could do it. Her legs followed her command, pumping harder, creating a surge propelling her forward. “I have to make it,” she told herself.

  As she came over the summit, she leapt with all her might taking flight. The land opened up beneath her, folding into cracks and crevices giving the land a sense of life. The trees were so vibrant that green didn’t seem an adequate description. Although green itself was defined by the light around it, the depth of the trees made the colors flow like the clouds above them.

  She was now traveling fast. It took only a brief period of time before she came down off the summit to see the small streams and rivers combine into a vein of blue water that stretched to the ocean. The trees gave way to more earth—dark and rocky—vibrating with the strength to support the sea of trees that they were leaving. As the river that ran from the mountain grew larger, it became a vibrant blue that reflected onto its surroundings, making the shore of the river almost blue by its proximity to the water.

  Alucia’s speed continued to increase as she neared the ocean. The veins of green seawater melded with the blue of the river into several small lakes that preceded the coast. As beautiful as the lakes were, they were soon overshadowed by the majestic shoreline that absorbed the sea into its body like the waiting arms of a mother. The sand of the beach was a dark brown covered by the white foam of the sea as it came running up to the rocks that awaited it. The rocky cliffs that made up the rest of the shoreline were dotted with small trees that made it look like stubble from the beard of a giant trying to swallow the sea.

  The scenery sped by so quickly that it became impossible to see anything clearly. The vessel was now just in front of her moving out over the open sea with no land in sight and only a small layer of clouds hovering above them. Abruptly, they shot toward the sky until safely above the cloud layer, then in an instant, everything was black.

  Alucia woke from her dream as the fire of the day slipped in through the window, cloaking her room in tendrils of early morning sun. She watched the light creep over the windowsill and spill onto the floor. She waited in her dark bed until the light crawled up to her, feeling no obligation to get up. The image of her mother flying into space still danced its way through her consciousness, but was quickly fading as her world came into focus around her.

  The walls of her room were a color that seemed to melt with the fire of light that licked up the wall. The warmth from the new day seeped into the room, giving her a sense of calm that made it difficult for her to move. Despite her comfort, she hugged the blanket close to her, feeling the softness rub against her cheek.

  He will be coming any minute now.

  There were no visible shelves or doors on her wall, just space, and the advancing light. Dad will want me to wear something nice. Blue, I feel like blue. A door opened at the level of her hand exposing a beautiful blue dress. Man, I wish this thing didn’t know what I was thinking. It takes the fun out of it sometimes.

  As she carefully pulled the dress over her head, a mirror appeared in the wall so she could have a look. I do like this color. I wonder what I should do with my hair.

  A door opened magically from the wall behind her and a tall gentleman, with a long thin face and bald head came in. His dress was a color not easy to describe, not quite white, but different enough from his skin tone that it was clear he was wearing clothes. Although, if you looked closely it would be difficult to tell where he stopped and his clothes began.

  “Alucia, are you ready?”

  “Papa, I am sorry. I have been lost in my own thoughts this morning. I’m ready now.”

  “Are you dreaming of colors, or life beyond ours again?”

  “I can’t say. My thoughts are so confused this morning.”

  Alucia moved out of the room with her father, Olivay, maintaining silence as she continued to try to hold onto what little remained of her dream. Olivay led Alucia out of her room which connected directly with the main living area and directed her to sit.

  The ambient light in Seattle this time of year was not enough for them to see well indoors despite a large window. The room was lit from the wall which most closely approximated the sun, giving the illusion that it was sunlight illuminating the room. Seattle had been in existence now for over 450 years and was one of the few remaining cities that retained its original name.

  Olivay looked at his daughter, Alucia, and her intense concentration. She looked so grown up when she was thinking. It was hard to believe she was only ten years old. He knew she was deep in thought and couldn’t wait for her to ask him what was on her mind. The things that found their way into her mind were always amazing. He would need to harness that feeling of a
we when he presented his work to the Trispero council overseeing his project.

  Olivay was always conflicted when using a single word to describe the Trispero. For centuries, humanity fought to bring civilization to an equality amongst different persons. No longer were people judged based on the color of their skin, who their ancestors were, or whom they loved, and yet, to this day, they still called the Trispero, the “Trispero.” They all individually had names; they all individually were people. It wasn’t a name used to describe a job like doctor or scientist and it wasn’t a title used to describe a particular race of people. The people who made up the Trispero were from different races and places. The separate individuals within had different strengths and weaknesses. What made them different was in one sense very concrete; they had a different genetic makeup. However, the reality was that although they were genetically different, it was much harder to put a finger on what it was that separated them. Wisdom, imagination, fortitude. All were words used to describe the Trispero, but in the end they were just that, the Trispero. All much more like their family and ancestors, but also different. All Trispero were identified at birth and raised with their families until they could decide for themselves when to assume their destiny. Olivay was lost in thought only to be brought back to the present by his daughter.

  “Papa, what is a gift?”

  “I’m sorry, Alucia, gift is a word peculiar to the old language. It means you give with no expectation of receiving anything in return.”

  “Oh, we do that all the time.”

  “Yes, my dear, it has fallen out of our language because it is just part of who we are. We don’t need a word for it.”

  “Why do you use the words hidden gift when you speak of the Trispero then? It seems confusing for someone to hide a gift. If giving it was such a wonderful thing to do, then why make it hard to find?”

  “Sometimes gifts can be dangerous if you are not ready for them. A mother bird doesn’t try to give its baby the gift of flight until it is ready. Would you give your best friend your favorite music if she had nothing to listen with?”

  “How will you know when they are ready?”

  The ambient light from the room seemed to brighten as Olivay considered this question. He looked to Alucia as she sat in a small chair next to him with her feet just touching the ground. It seemed only yesterday that her feet would dangle freely in the air kicking frantically each time she giggled. Making Alucia giggle was one of the things Olivay enjoy most. He knew it was her face that seemed to brighten the room, her cute little nose, large brown eyes. When Alucia smiled her whole face changed, from her cheeks to her eyes it was so infectious Olivay was never able to resist. Is she ready? He thought to himself.

  “You never truly know. This is why what the Tripsero have taught us is so important.”

  “What lesson is that?”

  “The Lesson of the Three: technology or knowledge, humanity, and earth. With all we know and have yet to learn, we must always consider how it impacts each other and how it impacts our home. The Lesson of the Three is the guide for the path that we follow. We don’t always know the destination, yet we remain on the path. This is why the Trispero are not just our scientist and thinkers, but our moral compass as well. Tell me, what makes you think of such things?”

  “I just wonder, Papa, all that we are able to do. We are learning the history of humanity in school. More than 300 years ago, we dreamed of traveling the stars. We visited the moon in the twentieth century, yet in 300 years we have done nothing other than look. They spoke of space travel as a gift. I know from later history that the Trispero helped save us from ourselves, but I still wonder.”

  “We should have named you “Wonder,” had we only known. Your mother has this ability as well. She cannot look at the clouds and not wonder why they look as they do, why they travel as they do. For her, it’s not enough to just enjoy their beauty, she must know why.”

  “Yes, Papa, tell me why, or maybe you can start with, why we are now exploring our universe again. Or, are you not allowed to tell me?”

  “Of course I am allowed to tell you. It’s just that it’s not a simple answer. Remember when you asked me how you know when someone is ready for that gift? Well, the Trispero think we are ready, our earth is healthy, and our populace is steady. Apparently leaping for the stars requires that we have a stable home to jump from. Humanity has suffered much to get where we are and I think it is time that I told you the story.”

  “What story, Papa?”

  “The story of the Trispero. It is important that you understand how they came to be before you and I can talk about where we are going now.”

  “Why now, Papa? I have learned much of our history, but not this. Why?”

  “We were just speaking of what a gift is. A gift is only a gift when you are ready for it. Knowledge is the greatest of gifts. Today, Alucia, I believe you are ready!”

  Alucia looked at her father with a wonder that pulled at Olivay’s heart with a sense of pride only a father can know. “Papa, please start, please!”

  “You must understand that this story is not easy, so you must be patient. Our story begins roughly 300 years ago with a family that was pulled together with tragedy and love.”

  2

  SEATTLE—2002

  “Have I been a good father?” Liam said it with as much force as he could. He didn’t want her to see how bad he felt. It was hard to sound tough wearing a hospital gown with oxygen tubing in your nose. He was only sixty years old and couldn’t remember having been in a hospital before now. Looking at his beautiful daughter sitting in the chair beside him, he felt younger. She looked so much like her mom with her dark—almost black—hair. Her features were thin and perfectly proportioned, her eyes so dark and expressive, he was almost sure he was looking into Louisa’s eyes thirty years ago.

  “What are you talking about, Pop? Don’t talk in the past tense You’re still my father and oh, by the way, you have some time left.”

  “I just worry, Rach. I want you to be able to find out what makes you happy. You know what’s important to you,” he said.

  “So, Pop, how exactly do I do that?”

  “Come on, Rachel, you know the answer to that already.”

  “I do?”

  “Of course you do. It’s the same answer to everything. Ask your mother!”

  She smiled down at him; even in the hospital with oxygen in his nose, he was trying to be funny.

  “Thanks, Pop. Just because you’re a smart ass doesn’t mean you’re funny. Isn’t that what mom says?”

  “Yes she does.”

  The thought of this phrase made him smile just a little more. His thick, strong features couldn’t be completely hidden by the gown. His face was pale with just a few freckles seen around his red beard. His hair was a little thinner, but it was him. Despite his newly acquired fragility his bright blue eyes were just as intense as always.

  “I know I’ve been lucky. The vast majority of time, your mom did know the correct answer. One of the things you will learn when you become a parent is that a big part of our job is just worrying. I know that sounds silly, but your mother and I are always thinking about you and your sister. I know you’re grown up and all, but you will always be my little girl. I’m pretty tired, sweetie. Why don’t you check up on Mom. I think I am going to take a nap.”

  “Sure, Dad. Mom and I will come back later for dinner.”

  Rachel wanted to believe what she told him, but he looked so frail. He had always been so strong; now sitting there in the hospital bed with the oxygen in his nose, she wasn’t sure. Something felt wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  It was a nice hospital room. It almost made Rachel feel like she was in a hotel. Soft beige colors and windows that took up most of the far wall kept it light even when it was cloudy outside. The most important thing about the room was that there was a rollout bed and room for someone to be with Dad all day and night if he needed it. No amount of light or happ
y colors could make it anything other than a hospital, though. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine they were in a hotel room, but the smell and the sounds always brought her back. Rachel got up and walked toward the window. It was still light outside but with the typical Seattle overcast hue. They were on the seventh floor but really only had a view of the building next to them. Even with the overcast skies, what little sun came through invigorated her. She turned to check on her father. His head was back and he was breathing quietly. Time to go check on Mom. Rachel turned to head toward her car when the nurse grabbed her.

  “Miss Connery, I wanted to let you know, your dad’s oxygen saturation is continuing to go down little by little. His doctor wants to move him to the intensive care unit tonight just to keep an eye on him.”

  Rachel turned to look into the nurse’s eye. She was pleasant, probably in her early fifties and just trying to help. Rachel couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to yell at her, This is just the flu, he is healthy, why is he so sick, and why aren’t you helping him?

  As if on cue the nurse responded to Rachel’s angered thoughts. “I can only imagine how confusing this is to see all this happening to your dad. I know he was healthy. This new flu is hurting a lot of people…some people we don’t know why. I can see you are upset so I want you to know we are doing everything we can.”

  Rachel immediately felt guilty for even thinking those things. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying. Thanks for grabbing me. Do you know what floor he’ll be on yet?”

  “He’ll be on the seventh floor and we should know the room number in a few minutes. Why don’t you call before you come in.”

  The nurse handed Rachel one of the cards from the floor to remind her of which number to call. Rachel looked down at the card unable to focus her eyes on the information. She then carefully put it in her purse for later use. Deep breaths, remember your yoga class, deep breaths. The walk to her car went by with her mind flashing pictures of her father, again and again. As Rachel slid behind the wheel and looked into the review mirror to see if anyone was behind her, she found herself staring into her own eyes. Tears rolled down the sides of her face, but they didn’t seem to be her own. She reached up with her hand to swipe the tears from her face just to confirm she was looking at herself.