The Elf's Eye

November 26th, 2000

Vorsach met me at dusk outside my house.

When I was little, my parents took me to The Remembrance, but now I am older, and I like to go with my best friend. The evening air was cool and crisp, just cool enough to make one feel exhilarated as we paced along the trail. I buttoned up a little as I watched the sky turn from purple to black, and brilliant pinpoints of light began to appear one by one. I commented to Vorsach that I always feel a sense of grand unveiling as the stars come out. Every night is a stage, and the curtain rises at sunset.

We were on foot because that is the way of the ceremony. It would be all too easy to ride in my family's hydrogen and oxygen powered craft, but the ritual says that we must be on foot as we approach the mound. Vorsach and I arrived early because it's a day of fasting, which I don't care for, and the sooner I get home to the bread breaking, the better.

By the time Vorsach and I arrived at the mound, the sky was completely black. The central band of our galaxy rose out of the distant horizon and spanned upwards like a giant rainbow, shimmering and glowing like diamonds strewn onto black velvet. Over the mound hung the brightest star in our winter sky, so bright that if one looked carefully, the shadow of the mound's ominous structure could be seen, cast low and long over the sloping ground. I exhaled gently as I walked forward and watched my breath evaporate into the night air -- shimmering by the light of the lanterns on the trail.

The celebrants formed a series of concentric circles, with the inner circle perhaps fifty meters in diameter, around the mound. We were in the first, inner circle, with parents not far away, and there must have been tens of circles forming behind us as the crowd gathered. Yet it remained quiet for idle chattering and visiting within the circle is forbidden.

When the last celebrant joined the outer circle, there was a moment of pause while we bowed our heads and the chimes were made to vibrate in echoing, holy tones. As the chimes faded, I looked up at the brightest star in the sky, watched it flicker and flare like a diamond spinning in brilliant light, and wondered what our ancestors must have thought of stars, especially the guiding star that flared up that night long ago. Little did they know the laws of physics and thermonuclear fusion, and what makes a star explode, yet the effect must have been no less on them than it has been on me tonight.

The remembrance began, The Vicar began walking along the inner edge of the circle. At each celebrant, she stopped and reached into her bag. I knew what was coming, but it never failed to make my spine tingle. Occasionally, some of the celebrants have been known to lose consciousness at this point. They are gently brought to the resting area where they can decide whether or not to continue.

When the Vicar approached me, she reached into her bag and pulled out two very large, sharp and rusty nails. As I extended my hands, she placed each nail in my palms. Try as I may, I could not keep the nails from making my arms waver under their massive, metallic weight. As she placed her hand on my head, I closed my fingers around the nails and clutched them tightly according to the dictates of the ritual.

She looked into my eyes and whispered "Remember."

We bowed gently to each other, then she moved on to Vorsach who was on my right. Now, it was my turn to climb the mound. It is not an easy climb for creatures such as we are. It is a long and painful climb, and the nails must never be allowed to touch the ground as we go. At last, when I reached the top of the mound, I approached the darkened structure and lined myself up with the Bright Star so that I could see the cross silhouetted against the starry band of light. I tossed the nails into the pit below it and remembered.

In that night, in the cool air, we gathered to remember that meteoric lifetime, from the novae that guided his parents to a humble birthing place to the mound where he, on his last day, disappeared into the night and the heavy nails mysteriously dropped to the ground.

As the nails I threw clattered to bottom of the pit, I shivered and clutched my wrap about me. What a lonely and terrible moment. Hunger swept over me, and I became just a little dizzy as I stared at the Bright Star. In a few seconds, I gathered myself and sighed. It was time to go home.

The retreat down the mound is no easier than the climb, more so for me, as I am not trained in the physical arts as are some of my friends. The exhaustion and the hunger, it is said, help one focus the mind.

Indeed.

Vorsach and I met my parents and little sisters at the outer edge of the grounds near a fountain where we had agreed to rendezvous. We walked home, as we most often do, holding hands, hugging, and purring lightly. The night grew colder as we walked, but no one seemed to notice.

 

* * * * *

 

We bid Vorsach good evening as we parted, and he continued to his own dwelling, not far away. As we entered our home, it had grown cool, but instead of letting our power cell warm the floors and send warm air through the vents, we built a fire in the back-up fire stove. It's a family ritual to remind us of the half-open barn where he was born on a cool winter night, kept warm only by the flames of a small campfire.

The final ritual of the evening was the breaking of the fast -- something that was keen on my mind as we unbundled our wraps and cuddled by the fire stove. My little sisters knocked me over and climbed all over me hoping to energize themselves and reap the rewards of my warm fur. We snuggled and talked as we watched the flames spit and lick around in the stove's transparent ceramic door. Presently, the smell of warm bread, soup, and wine drifted out of the kitchen, drawing us around the table to nibble and tease our parents.

It had been a long, tiring day, and after our meal, I was content to retire to my own den for the evening. By design, the ceiling of my den had been built with a lexan roof so that I could fall asleep under the stars. As I lay, cuddled into the cozy blankets, I lay on my back to gaze at the ever so black night and the thousands of stars visible overhead.

I activated my implanted datalink and queried for any news in the field of Astronomy. I learned that two large, possibly gas giant planets had been discovered in orbit around the G2 spectral class star that forms the 4th magnitude "Eye of the Elf" in the constellation called The Sleigh. That constellation, I thought, should be above the horizon at this time of night. I reached for my binoculars and finally found The Sleigh, low but rising on the eastern horizon. I panned down past the Sleigh and searched for the Elf. There! There it was, the Elf's eye twinkled pure white as a G2 star should in space.

I thought to myself, on this hallowed evening, I wonder if there are any rocky planets in orbit around that star as well. Could there be life on any of them? What must the creatures be like? Do they have an advanced civilization such as ours? The wine and soup were making me sleepy, and the binoculars must have dropped gently to my stomach. The last thought I had, as I drifted to sleep, was, "I wonder how they celebrate Christmas?"

Copyright 2000 by John Martellaro, All rights reserved. Quantum Threads banner artwork by Tracy Haynes.

About the Author

John Martellaro lives in Colorado at 2,800 meters above sea level with a Ph.D. wife and two cats, Nikki and Data. He holds a B.S. in Astrophysics and an M.S. in Physics. His hobbies, include amateur astronomy, downhill skiing, bicycling, and listening to piano solos. His personal Macs are a B&W G3/400 with a flat screen Studio Display and a blueberry iBook.

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