The Other

by Scott Speck

	Coolness washed his rubbery flesh.  He sensed spatial
extension, as the relief spread from one end of his body to the
other.  Polished, silvery bubbles emerged with a yawn and rose
over his thorax, tickling, itching, like a cloud of tiny insects
stirred up from the grass with no where to go.  One eye, focused
previously on the rocks, watched the silvery spheres rise.  One
of the bubbles was larger, a silvery umbrella, losing its outer
rim into small shards of air, yet regenerating its exterior from
the center as it climbed.
	He looked below himself and saw the rocks, dim and green. 
Swaying moss grew from them.  The moss danced gently to the
overhead motions of countless tons of force.  His eye moved
closer, and he saw filaments of green, waxy and tall, swaying to
the same song.  The tops of the filaments told of the
approaching disturbances first.  As the forces snaked along
their length, they whipped the tops of the sea stems to and fro.
	In a second, as the current reached the rocks, polished by
water energy and dulled by the moss at the same time, the mosses
frilled up and then flattened against the surfaces of their
homes.
	The rocks.  They were everywhere, jutting like broken trees
from the bottom.  Others were large and smooth, prodigious
bubbles blown of granite, sitting amongst the petrified forest
that sprouted from beneath the plants.
	Finned creatures swam amongst the filaments, rubbing their
slippery, bright bodies against the green.  Shards of light
massaged their backs, as their fins kicked now and then,
propelling them at still smaller creatures, the transparent
babies born just hours ago, which they snatched up with yawns of
their mouths.
	His eyes watched many other eyes, some dulled by age, others
bright and angry as their helmsmen propelled them in the cycle
of survival, amongst other eyes, some bulbous and warning of
danger.  The small ones made no sound for his ears, but he heard
struggles, when larger beasts lurched from an alcove or a
concealed fortress of rock.  The mouth opened, as large eyes
focused upon smaller ones, and the behemoths rose from the
bottom, quick as mercury slipping between a miner's fingers. 
One could wonder how they could navigate the teeth of rock so
well, protecting their polished sides from the edges, affording
them protection until, in one giant gulp, they took their prey
within their jaws, which closed just as quickly as they had
opened.
	Closing one eye, he opened another, this one trained on the
great boundary, the wall which divided his world from another. 
Blue and gold gesticulated and flowed, in immense twists and
kinks of light, which formed, broke, merged, and reformed
thousands of times, in the blink of an eye.  The closer he moved
towards the boundary, the warmer he became, so he chose, for
now, to remain deep, sinking slowly until the green filaments
tickled his belly.
	Closing his eyes, he felt the presence of others.  A mental
smile crossed his thoughts, widening and allowing a new light to
pour from beyond the great boundary.  They were arriving,
drawing close enough to touch in a different way.  He heard
voices, far off and confused, scratchy and twisted from some
faraway radio transmitter, probing, seeking.
	He reached forth, delicately with his own energies, tuning his
mind in an unconscious way, forcing the portal open, allowing
more light to enter, but also causing it to clarify, to take
form, substance.  He had tried this with the great boundary, to
no effect.  But beyond the boundary, he could see with other
minds, feel with other hearts.  They were his reason for
existing here, amongst the green stone-trees and the clear, cool
water.
	Warmth filled his heart, and he began to speak, causing more
silvery bubbles to tickle his underside.  "I am here" he said. 
And then the others spoke.

	The sun was warm on his back as he walked along the road.  One
foot struggled through grass that grew along the pavement, the
other moved effortlessly over the white line that marked the
edge of the road.  He was afraid to walk with both feet on the
road, as fast moving cars occasionally blurred by him, and he
didn't want to be sent away permanently, by some person rushing
to work on a Monday morning.
	He looked up from his walk and saw the endless columns of trees
which lined the road, gently rising and falling into the
distance.  Their leaves hissed and waved in the morning breeze,
moving in from the ocean less than a mile away.
	The leaves and the wind, the calm upturned arms of the trees,
stilled his mind, allowing him to forget his poverty, his need
to eat, the tiredness that weighted his legs and arms like lead.
From behind, he heard a rushing sound, and a bright red
convertible, its top down, flew by him.  The car moved up a
gentle hill, and a gust of wind moved it slightly to the left.
	The man watched calmly, as a wicker basket, its varnished
exterior gleaming in the sun, jostled free from the rear seat of
the car.  It hung precariously on the rear corner of the
interior, just to the left of a child, whose head poked up from
the top of the seat.
	The small head turned, and he heard a yell, quickly fading as
the car moved away.  The driver, a woman by the look of the
long, black hair that flowed in the wind, turned to look at the
child, just as the basket tipped in the wind and fell to the
road.
	He heard the familiar sound of crackling wicker, as the basket
met the pavement and spun in a continuous, devastating
cartwheel.  The top of the basket flew open, and the contents
began to scatter across the road.
	The convertible braked, the large red taillights blinking on,
the front of the car dipping down as the vehicle nearly
screeched to a stop.  He heard the engine idling, and the door
opened.  
	The man walked quickly, crossing the road and drawing to within
a hundred feet of the car, now sitting half off the road.  The
driver was a middle-aged woman, slim and dressed in a neat,
white nurse's uniform.  Large, circular sunglasses covered her
eyes, and her face was stony.
	"Damn!" she shouted, as she slammed the door, causing the car
to lurch and the child in the rear seat to begin crying.
	She walked hard on the road, her resounding steps revealing her
anger.  He sped up his walk, just as she picked up the basket
and tested the wicker lid, half of which had torn free of its
hinge.  Exhaling with irritation, she let the lid fall back, and
she began to pick up the numerous objects, most of them baby
toys, diapers, and plastic bottles, from the road.
	"Here, let me help you" the man said.
	The woman looked up suddenly from her crouch.  She cleared the
hair which blew over her glasses.
	"No, that's quite all right.  Just keep on your--"
	"Don't worry, I'm not homeless" the man said confidently,
rubbing his stubbled chin with his hand as he kneeled down and
picked up two baby bottles, now cracked and scuffed from the
spill.
	The woman returned to retrieving the basket's objects, and the
man heard a squeak as she grabbed a rubbery toy and stuffed it
resoundingly into the basket.  He retrieved a set of keys.  As
they jingled in his fingers, the woman looked up, wary of what
he had found.  He stood and smiled, walking up to her.  She
opened the basket, and he dropped the contents inside.  The keys
jingled as they hit bottom.
	"Thanks for the help" she said with a smile.  "I'm going to be
late."
	The man looked beyond the attractive woman, to the idling
convertible.  The child's head could no longer be seen, but a
free piece of seat belt was ruffled along the top edge of the
seat, as though the child had unbuckled itself and--
	"You're welcome" the man said.  He noticed her pretty face,
still half-obscured by the sunglasses.
	"I wonder what color her eyes are" he thought to himself.
	"Well, I just wanted to help.  I know my appearance might scare
you a little, but I've been traveling a lot and..."
	The woman hooked the basket handle over her left arm and
reached for her purse.
	"No, please don't."
	She stopped, looking knowingly into his eyes.
	"Really, I'm not a bum."
	She laughed with embarrassment.  The man looked beyond the
woman, to the left of the idling convertible.  A little girl,
clothed in a pink outfit and bonnet, was standing near the far
edge of the road.  She was stumbling forward, towards a sharp
bend in the road.
	A warning light flashed in his mind, as the woman began to
speak again.  Her words were muffled and meaningless as he heard
a rushing sound, from up ahead.  Just then, the little girl fell
and rolled onto her side, in the middle of the opposing lane.
	She was holding a rattle, which struck the twin yellow line
that divided the road.
	"Waaaaaaah!" she began to cry, as the rushing noise grew louder
and the man began to run, right past the nurse and towards the
struggling child.
	Her face went blank, and she turned to follow him as he ran. 
Just then, a Cadillac rounded the corner, bearing down on her
fallen daughter and the man rushing towards her.  The mother
screamed and dropped the basket, just as the driver, nearly
invisible behind a gleaming wall of chrome, metal and tinted
glass, leaned on the horn.
	She heard a loud screeching sound, as the front tires of the
Cadillac locked and the man closed the last precious feet to her
daughter, now kicking her pink-socked feet helplessly in the air
and wailing loudly.
	Then, with the grace of some athlete on an Autumn Sunday
afternoon, the man's hands grasped her daughter around the
chest, hoisting her into the air.  His arms drew her in to his
chest, and he sprang from the cracked pavement on the road.  She
thought that his legs would be caught by the bumper, but he took
to the air, just as the car blew through the space where her
daughter had lain.
	As he touched the ground, he slowed to a stop and leaned
against her car, his chest heaving with fear.  The Cadillac, its
silvery-finned body gleaming in the morning sun, also stopped,
twin trails of black rubber extending for twenty feet behind the
car.
	She ran forward, tears welling from her eyes, as the man
turned, a triumphant, boyish look on his face.  She had seen
that look before, when her brother had caught a fly ball to seal
a victory, and he had turned to face her and her parents, seated
on the bleachers on a summer afternoon.
	"I made it!" his eyes said.  "Look what I've done!"
	She stopped and took her daughter from his hands, which pulled
back from her wailing child just as easily as they had snatched
her from the jaws of death.
	"Oh thank you!" she repeated over and over, tears streaming
down her cheeks from behind her sunglasses.
	"It's okay.  Everything's okay" the man repeated.
	They heard a car door slam, and they turned to see an old man
running towards them, a frightened look on his face .  He
flipped up his sunglass visor.
	"I'm sorry!  Thank God you saved her."
	She felt no anger toward the man, who she knew had done
everything in his power to avoid hitting her daughter.
	"It's okay, my baby's safe now."  She repeated this, her voice
trailing to a whisper as she spoke now only to her daughter,
whose sobs slowly calmed.  Soon, the four of them stood quietly,
as the wind blew about them and two cars idled along opposite
sides of the road.
	"Well, have a nice day sir, folks."
	The woman smiled as the man trotted back to his huge boat of a
car.  In seconds, the engine revved, and the Cadillac began to
move, slowly leaving behind the rubber tracks on the road.
	"How can I ever thank you?" the woman asked.
	"You can tell me her name."
	The woman smiled, and her daughter rose to a sitting position
in her mother's arms, turning and extending a small, pink palm
towards his face.
	"Her name is Carol Ann.  And you?"
	"I'm Michael.  Michael Watson.  Pleased to meet you, Carol Ann."
	He gently shook her hand, and she smiled broadly.  As he let
go, she returned those same fingers to her mouth and giggled.
	"Hi, my name is Lynn.  Lynn Schwartz."
	She moved her daughter to her other side, and they shook hands.
	"Pleased to meet you too, Lynn Schwartz.  When I handed you the
things that fell out of the basket, I noticed that she had left
the car."
	"You little rascal!" she said playfully to Carol Ann.  "You
must've climbed out of the car!  Don't do that again, do you
hear?"
	The toddler smiled and played with her mother's nose, with both
hands.
	Michael laughed.  "I'm sure she heard you.  Anyway, glad to be
of help."
	He began to back slowly away, when she stepped forward. 
"Really, is there anything I can do for you?  Do you need a ride
somewhere?"
	"Actually, I could use a ride to the next town.  My map told me
that should be about ten miles further down the road."
	"Yeah, Blackwell.  That's where I'm taking Carol Ann, so that I
can finally get off to work."
	"Are you a nurse at a hospital near here?"
	They walked to the car, where Lynn carefully placed her
daughter in the back seat and belted her into her child seat. 
Sure she was secure, Lynn opened the passenger door.
	"Hop in."
	He sat down and she closed the door for him.  She walked
quickly around the back of her Chrysler.  She sat down and
belted herself in, noting that her new passenger was using his
seat belt.
	She put the car in gear, and they drove off down the road.
	"I'm sorry, what did you ask me?" 
	"Oh, I asked you if you're a nurse at a hospital near here."
	He played with the handle of his large, tweed overnight bag
that he had been carrying along the road.
	"You ever hear of the Middleton Home?" the woman asked.
	"No, I've only been in these parts for a few days."
	"It's considered the best geriatric care center north of the
City."
	"New York City?"
	"Yes" she replied.  "We have about 250 patients, most of whom
are permanent.  I've been working here for about ten years now."
	"It must be fulfilling."
	"I wouldn't work anywhere else in the world" she said.  "So,
where are you from?"
	"I worked near Pittsburgh as an electronics tech.  Then, my
plant was closing, since we did a lot of defense work.  My boss
liked my work, and he said that his brother, who owns a business
in Bangor, would take me on."
	"And?" the woman asked.
	"I packed the clothes you see here in my bag and took a
Greyhound up here, since my car broke down a couple months ago. 
Once I got here, I worked for an incredibly long three weeks."
	"Why'd you quit?" the woman asked, as she wheeled the car along
the forest road.
	"Oh, I didn't quit.  My boss did.  It ends up the business was
already on the rocks, and some of the other techs had quit,
looking for more stable employment.  But, of course, how the
hell was I supposed to know that?  The place went belly up just
three days ago, and my boss could only pay me for one out of
three week's work."
	"That's really too bad.  I know there's a lot of plant
closings, up here in New England, related to cuts in defense."
	"With so little money in my pocket, I decided to walk back to
Blackwell, to the Greyhound station."
	"You're heading back then?"
	"I don't see that I have much choice.  I won't find work back
there, but at least I can stay with some friends while I look
for another job."
	"You know, the Home just lost one of their maintenance workers,
old Sam Olson, who just retired.  He did plumbing and electrical
work.  I don't suppose you know plumbing though?"
	"Not really.  I'm trained in electronics, but I've done a fair
amount of work as an electrician.  A lot of private work."
	"Good.  Want to come with me today, then?  There's not many
electricians in Blackwell."
	"I could hardly go to an interview looking like this."
	"No.  Today, I'll talk with the head of maintenance.  Set up an
interview for you.  If you can pass the time today, and the
grounds around the Home are beautiful for taking walks, I could
meet you for lunch, and then you can stay at my place."
	"Really, I'm flattered, but I don't want to impose on your
family."
	She smiled and turned to him briefly.
	"It's okay.  I'm divorced.  You've met my whole family now,
except for my goldfish.  I have a room above the garage that I
use as a guest bedroom, when my mother visits me.  You can stay
there for a while.  How about it?"
	"Thank you" Michael said.  "You don't have to do this, just
because--"
	"No, I'm doing this for you.  You deserve it."

	Nurse Emswiller turned the wheelchair into the breeze, now warm
in the late morning sun.  Locking the wheels, she walked in
front of Mr. Tetley.  She straightened his head a little for
him, and his clouded eyes turned toward her.  His gaze was
empty.  Behind his blue eyes, cataracts had whitened and paled
his irises.  The half-dilated pupils were a pale gray color.
	His eyes had been useless for many years before the formation
of the cataracts, an automobile accident having rendered him a
blind quadriplegic.  As the illness of old age had slowly taken
hold, his family had brought him to Middleton, seeking the best
possible home for him in his final days.  They visited him
weekly, and his grandchildren held his hands, feeling their
warmth and dreaming of what he must have been like when he was
young.  The nurse wondered this too, frequently eyeing the
wedding portrait of him and his wife that sat near his bed.  The
photo had been taken on some town green many miles away, many
years away.  
	Kneeling down, she tucked a thin, blue blanket around his legs
and waist.  His mouth cracked a smile, and his head moved back a
little, taking in the warmth of the sun.
	"There.  Now enjoy the sun Mr. Tetley.  I'll be back in about
an hour."
	She walked away, turning for a moment to see his balding head,
covered with a thin layer of long, gray strands of hair.  The
strands blew in the breeze, and she knew that he was falling
asleep, like he always did.  Five other patients, most of them
unable to speak and in a similar state as Mister Tetley, also
sat in their wheelchairs, on the giant wooden deck that formed
the ocean overlook at the home.
	Trees grew along the sides of the deck, which curved gently to
join with the bend in the sea cliff.  The deck itself was built
of thick, hardwood planks, and a tall fence ran along its outer
perimeter, topped with a wooden handrail.  The fence was secure
enough to prevent an accident, yet unobtrusive enough to allow
those sitting on the deck to view the ocean below, which crashed
now in thunderous waves onto the rocks at the base of the cliff.
	Out there, on the sea, white caps crested and then gave way to
shades of aquamarine and spearmint, the waters teeming with life
on all scales.  The waves pounded loudly onto the shore, and
larger walls of water broke further out from the beach, hissing
and foaming as they spent their energies in graceful finales.
	Sea birds hovered in the wind and dove into the cold waters,
many of them emerging, shiny and white, with fish in their
beaks.  Smaller blackbirds darted amongst the trees, singing and
perching amid the swaying branches.
	As the nurse's footsteps faded on the deck planking, Mr. Tetley
exhaled slowly.  A small insect buzzed across his forehead.  He
felt the tickle of its gossamer wings, and he heard them beating
quickly.  The pitch of the beating varied rapidly, as the insect
struggled against the breeze.  It receded into oblivion, and Mr.
Tetley tuned his ears to the leaves in the trees, then to the
calls and cackles of the sea birds, and finally to the
resounding roar of the ocean, incessant and eternal beneath the
stone cliff on which he sat.
	He burped, releasing warm air through his throat.  Sucking in a
breath of fresh sea air, he felt his mind beginning to drift. 
He had missed the Other, so he offered no resistance, allowing
his thoughts to take to the waves, to be tossed this way and
that in the foaming turbulence, to reach beneath the waves and
into the cool depths below.  At last, with the mouthing of words
through a mind still honed and sharp, despite his physical
handicap, he answered the call.  And the Other began to speak.
	Around him, four other patients reclined, two on either side. 
As he spoke, he felt their presence as well.  Their thoughts
coalesced within the Other, as they drifted from normal
consciousness and entered a hypnotic state.
	There was Mrs. Jones, her eyes closed behind thick lenses.  The
black-framed glasses were perched heavily atop her nose, her
closed eyes now exaggerated and distorted from the magnification
of her spectacles.  Her white hair stood in curls atop her head.
As she drifted to meet the others, her mouth hung open slightly.
	To her left was Mr. Bragg, a giant of a man, though now
withered by ninety years of life on earth.  How often he still
told his jokes, causing the women at the home to blush.  He
still wore his green bow tie outdoors.
	Then there were the McGill sisters, twins who had both suffered
strokes within months of each other.  They had been mirror
images of each other throughout life, and how morbidly fitting
it had been that both had lost the ability to walk and see at
nearly the same time.  The doctors watched them carefully,
realizing that one was a barometer for the other.  If one became
depressed, the wind vane of emotion turning into the gray clouds
along the horizon, then the other did as well.  If one grew
tired of chicken soup, so would the other.  They were tied
forever, in a mental knot wrought by their physical sameness, by
their growth in the same womb mere inches from each other.
	So they sat, their skin drinking in the sunshine, their heads
nodding off as they undertook the excursion they awaited each
day.  Their minds, unimpeded by physical handicap, took to the
wind and the waves.

	Michael walked for hours, enjoying the weather and the gardens
surrounding the home.  He admired the mansion itself, which had
once been home to a wealthy, New England family.  Its exterior
of brown natural stone had weathered the harshness of winters on
the Maine coast.  Large Corinthian pillars of white marble stood
in pairs on either side of the front entrance.  Stately maples
and oaks towered about the mansion on all sides, but no brush or
trees grew in front of the bay windows on the seaward face of
the home.
	He walked around the mansion, along a wide, paved walkway. 
Occasionally, staff members at the home would wheel one of the
home's residents by Michael, as he walked on the path.  Some of
them would raise their glances, smile, and bid him good day. 
Others would just watch him as they rolled past.  He noticed
that several seemed unable to do anything but stare straight
ahead.  Michael wondered what thoughts formed behind their eyes.
Some of them seemed devoid of emotion, their faces blank and
expressionless.  Others were still animated with life.  The
nurses and attendants greeted him with hellos as he proceeded,
not appearing to notice the stubble on his face, the soiled
shoes, his unwashed hair.  He had left his bag in Lynn's car, so
at least he had lost the appearance of a carpetbagger.
	Stopping under a huge maple tree, he looked up through its
branches, beholding the sunlight that filtered through countless
leaves.  The air was pleasantly warm, and a bird was singing on
a branch, high above him.
	"I could get used to this place" he said to himself, as he
leaned one hand on the bark of the tree trunk.  His glance moved
down from the branches, down along the perfectly parallel
grooves in the trunk of this tree, to the grass at his feet.  It
was long and green, Spring green, more alive than the most
precious emerald.
	Michael saw himself as a child, running in open fields, towing
a taut length of fishing line behind himself, at the end of
which a diamond kite danced between the clouds.  He remembered
the fields of yellow dandelions, so many of them that one
thought the grass was being choked out of existence.  He saw
himself running through the dandelions, kicking up clouds of
floating, translucent umbrellas, which would be carried away on
the wind.
	Flying a kite is like fishing.  Once the kite is in the air,
you run backwards with it, first giving it some line, just
enough so that it takes to the air.  Then, when the kite has
climbed high, you jerk back on the line, and the kite dances and
darts, each time you release and then take in the tension.  But,
unlike fishing, you never really want to reel in the kite.  It's
only the need to go home and eat supper, or retrieve your prize
before the sun sets, that makes you reel it in for the twentieth
time, anxious for the next day when the clouds race through the
air, allowing you to release the sailfish into the sky.
	When he thought of kites and of childhood, his mind flowed over
those same fields on which he had run barefoot years ago,
thoughts of spearmint gum and bicycles and building a clubhouse
and kissing the cheek of the girl you had a crush on that
particular Summer.
	"I feel at home here.  The ocean is beautiful, the air is so
clean and fresh.  Lynn."
	The thoughts of the morning flashed through his mind.  He
replayed the rescue of her daughter Carol Ann.  He felt his
heart racing all over again as he mentally relived the
experience.  He saw her smile, her pretty face.  It had not been
until their arrival at the home, when she had parked the car in
the staff lot to the right of the mansion, that she had removed
her sunglasses.  He remembered her blue eyes, her delicate
features, her long hair flowing in the wind.
	"Don't go doing something stupid" he thought.  "She's just
being nice to me.  I helped her out, so now she's doing the same
for me."
	He tried to repress the initial infatuation that had crept into
his mind, and when he looked at his watch, he knew that she
would meet him in the garden, on the opposite side of the home,
in a few minutes.  Striking off along the path, he circled
behind the home.  There were other buildings, for the grounds
keeping equipment and storage.  Two other stone structures, with
nearly the floor space of the original mansion, had been built
to the south of the main house, joined by a windowed, enclosed
hallway.  Tinges of green moss were visible between the slates
on the roof of this connecting structure.
	He was now walking behind the house.  Two giant bay windows
occupied the center of the eastern wall of the home, affording a
stunning view of the ocean that churned beyond the cliff. 
Several paths extended from the rear entrance to the home.  Two
of them ended when they met the path on which he was presently
walking.  Two others continued through, to the wooden
observation deck just a couple hundred feet away.
	Michael saw the patients sitting on the deck, all of them in
wheelchairs, so he didn't venture there, afraid that he would in
some way disturb their routine.  Instead, he continued, toward a
garden filled with flowers, bushes, and small trees, just to the
north of the house.
	As he passed under a small grape arbor and into the garden, he
smelled the fragrance of many flowers.  Tall trees stood around
the perimeter of the garden, which had paths running off into
thickly wooded areas.  He saw an old man, hobbling on a cane, as
he walked amid a stand of trees.
	Then his thoughts returned to the only thing that would permit
him to stay here -- a job.  Butterflies appeared in his stomach,
as all thoughts of kites, trees, flowers, and spring mornings
were grounded on the runway of reality.
	"Michael?" he heard.
	Turning, he saw Lynn, who was walking toward him.  She was tall
and statuesque, even in her nurse's uniform.  He remembered how
many times he had fallen in love before, always to end up in
relationships that were far from ideal.  Never once had he been
close to marriage, though he dreamed of someday being the
husband of a beautiful woman.  A broad smile was on her face as
she approached him, one brown paper bag in each hand.
	"God she's beautiful" he thought.  Then he remembered that he
hadn't been out on a date in a few months, and that he didn't
look presentable.  His heart slowly sank back to the ground,
then into the ground, until it stopped, lodged somewhere in the
cold soil many feet below.
	"Hi," he replied, feeling awkward that she had to feed him.
	She stopped and held out her right hand.
	"Here, have some lunch" she said.
	He took the bag slowly.
	"Thank you.  Where can we sit?"
	"Right along that path, through those trees, are several wood
benches.  We can see the ocean from there."
	"Sounds good."
	They began to walk, side by side, along the path.  They passed
beneath the swaying branch of a tree, and Michael felt the
leaves tickling his head and his back.  Grass grew thinly along
the path, due to the thick shade of the surrounding trees.
	Ahead, light streamed through a portal in the leaves.  He could
see three benches, and the sound of surf was growing louder. 
They emerged back into the sunshine, and they both sat down on
the nearest bench.  A fence stood about ten feet in front of
them, and another twenty feet beyond that, a stone cliff,
covered with sprigs of vegetation, descended to the rocks and
water below.
	They breathed in the ocean air and opened their bags.  Michael
removed two sandwiches, wrapped in wax paper, a can of cola, and
a bunch of grapes.
	"Do you like turkey?" she asked, as she opened her can of soda
and took a drink.
	"Yeah, that's fine.  I'm pretty hungry, but I won't forget my
table manners."
	She laughed as she unwrapped her own sandwich.
	"This place is absolutely beautiful.  I can see why you work
here."
	"Well, it's mostly the beauty of the people that keeps me here.
The doctors are really good, and we have the ability to get a
lot of good equipment, which helps."
	They both ate their lunch, sitting at an angle towards each
other while still affording a view of the sea.  As Lynn finished
a mouthful of food, she looked at him in a serious way.
	"I talked to Barney, head of maintenance."
	His heart jumped in his chest, afraid that he was about to
receive bad news.
	"He'll be joining us shortly."
	"But I look like hell" he said with irritation.
	"I told Barney that you would meet with him tomorrow, that you
were just being casual today, but he said he wants to meet you
anyway."
	Michael raised his hand in a gesture of protest, but she gently
eased his hand back down and returned to her meal.
	"Don't worry.  You're dressed better than Barney is, anyway."
	Michael smiled, just as he heard footsteps in the grass behind
them.  Turning, he saw a portly man, wearing a striped cap.  A
ragged, brown mustache extended to his lower lip, and his face
was round and perspiring.  Amid the ruddy skin of his face,
which appeared soft, like a blob of dough, two bright blue eyes
peeked out at the world.  He was short, and the bench flexed
noticeably as he sat down and held out his hand to Michael.
	"Barney Stine," he said, a smile on his face, as he grasped and
firmly shook Michael's hand.
	"Michael Watson.  Pleased to meet you."
	Their interview began, right in front of Lynn.  She watched and
listened the whole time, asking questions of Michael when she
knew that his answers would make him shine.  And he did.  

	Leaning over, he saw a brilliant patch of yellow, its light
reflecting on his bare chest and making his whole body glow.  He
smelled an odor, pungent and minty at the same time.  A
bumblebee danced amongst the blossoms, probing for pollen,
gathering it into the yellowing sacs on its legs.
	The bee hovered over the flower that he was about to pick, so
he waited, and the bee, sensing his retreat from the flower,
descended onto the last marigold in the patch.  Soon, the insect
rose into the air, its wings a humming blur, and it flew by his
ear.  He didn't flinch, however, realizing that the bee meant
him no harm.
	The boy picked some marigolds, bunching them with the
wildflowers that he had found in the field just beyond the fence
that surrounded his grandparents' farmhouse.
	He felt the rough blades of grass as he moved his bare feet
through their coolness.  Looking down, he saw a honeybee,
alighting onto a clover blossom.  He stepped carefully over the
clover and resumed his walk.  His steps were lighter than air,
and he sucked in one breath after another with exhilaration.  
	Suddenly, a rustle sounded from the bushes up ahead.  He
quickly backed up and hid behind a massive tree trunk.  Peering
around the edges of its gnarled bark, he saw a soft, brown shape
emerge.  Two ears, delicate and covered with thin veins that
darkened the sunlight passing through them, poked into the air.
A quivering nose followed, and then a bright eye, deep brown and
polished as a marble.
	The rabbit rustled through the bushes, searching for any tasty
morsels before stealing into a vegetable garden that the boy's
grandfather tended daily.  The boy watched the rabbit sniff the
air and creep across an open patch of lawn.
	Lettuce and cabbage grew just feet away, and the rabbit quickly
scampered into the midst of wooden stakes and ropes that braced
tomato plants and bright green, delicious leaves.  The rabbit
set to work on a lettuce plant.
	From his vantage point, the boy knew that the rabbit was
savoring the leaves, enjoying the lettuce more than he or his
grandparents ever could.  As he drank in the beauty of his
grandparent's farm home, out in the valley between the mountains
that grew green and mysterious from the land, he felt his limbs
tire. Slowly, he sat down on the grass and continued to watch
the rabbit, as his vision slowly faded.  
	The sounds of the garden echoed into nothingness, and all light
from the garden faded, soon to be replaced by the sound of surf,
rushing waters that he heard as if through a long tunnel.  He
felt himself moving through the tunnel, and the sound of the
water drew nearer.  Soon, he felt the warmth of the sun, and
goose bumps formed on his skin as the wind blew.
	The Other gently receded, releasing the psychic links that had
connected them, if only for a short while.  The man felt warm
hands on his shoulder.
	"It's time to go back inside, Mr. Tetley" he heard the nurse
say.  "We have to get you ready for dinner.  Swiss steak
tonight.  Sound good?"
	Mr. Tetley managed a smile, and the nurse wheeled him across
the wood of the overlook platform, towards the great stone
mansion that he had never once beheld with his own eyes.

	The McGill sisters entered the church together.  As they
ascended the steps to St. Stevens, they joined hands.  Sally
turned around and saw that no one was behind them.  She looked
at her own white dress, then to Kelly's, identical to her own in
pattern and color.
	They beheld the massive stone spires, topped with hewn, marble
crosses.  The church's rose window stood on the rear face of the
structure, its glass dark and segmented from outside.  The sun
shone brightly on the church, the surrounding yard, and the row
houses on the opposite side of the street.
	Continuing up the steps, both sisters heard the click and
scuffle of their shoes.
	"Do I look okay?" Sally asked.
	"Yes, you look fine," Kelly replied.  "How about me?"
	"You look fine too," came the reply.
	Kelly grasped a large, wrought iron ring, cold to the touch and
about eight inches in diameter.  Tugging with all her strength,
the tall church door slowly swung open.  Sally entered, followed
by Kelly.
	Once inside, they felt the door drifting shut, allowing a final
gust of cool air to blow past them from behind.  As the door
sealed, their eyes became accustomed to the dim interior of the
church.  They smelled hot wax, and the fragrance of spring
flowers filled the air.
	Stepping through the vestibule, past the massive stone pool of
holy water, they began to walk down the main aisle of the
church.  Ahead, at the center of the front of the sanctuary, a
massive wooden crucifix hung.
	Candles burned in descending tiers on either side of the base
of the cross, casting a peaceful, flickering glow on the
representation of Christ.
	They saw that, due to the flickering of the candles, the head
of Jesus appeared to move, his colorless eyes appeared to shift
back and forth, as drafts moved through the interior of the old
church.
	The marble altar stood in front of the crucifix, around which
pots of bright flowers had been placed.  Then they heard a
sound, as of a woman's voice, and they turned, seeing their
mother seated on one of the pews.  Her boyfriend Roy was seated
next to her, holding both her hands and whispering softly.
	Roy was a wonderful man.  He treated Kelly and Sally as though
they were his own daughters.  Never, since the tragic death of
their father over five years ago, had their mother been so
happy.  They had met at church, a couple years ago, and soon
thereafter, Roy had become a friend of the family.  Kelly and
Sally had watched their mother over the years, gradually
forgetting the pain of the death of her husband, slowly becoming
open again to sharing her life with another.  Their mother
turned toward them.  Her eyes were wet, and a bright smile
formed on her lips.
	"Come here, you two!" she whispered loudly.
	Both girls walked carefully between the pews, where Roy sat,
his hands still gently holding their mother's left hand, on
which a small, sparkling jewel could be seen.  Their hearts
pounded with excitement, and they both hugged their mother at
the same time.
	"Can I be your stepfather?" they heard Roy's voice say gently.
	"Yes" they both replied at once.  They felt tears forming in
their own eyes, as they knew that they would be a complete
family once again.  Their mother began to cry again, and they
could feel her weeping through the embrace that they shared.
	As the vision of the church faded, Kelly and Sally remembered
this as one of the happiest days of their lives.  Ahead of them
lay a new life, when there would be a man they could call
"father" and "dad", to share their lives with them, to bring
renewed life to their mother, quiet and sad for so long.
	The Other receded from the McGill sisters.  Slowly, they opened
their eyes, refreshed and thankful at the reality and depth of
their shared vision.  Looking to each other, through lightless
eyes, they smiled.

	The next day, it rained.  When the first patients opened their
eyes, some from beneath the weight of drug induced sleep, they
heard the drumming against the windows in their rooms.  Outside,
lightning flashed in the sky, and thunder rolled about the
cliffs, ricocheting off walls of solid rock.
	Mr. Tetley was one of the first to awaken.  He heard a sudden
crash of thunder, very close to the home.  As the roar rolled
through the structure, from one end to the other, he thought he
heard a train, rumbling trackless and roughshod over the land,
toward the sea where the salt waters would quench its glowing
firebox.  His wedding picture frame hummed on the nightstand,
and he wanted to reach out and hold it.
	Soon, he heard a nurse entering his room.  He felt a woman's
warmth draw close to him, and he opened his mouth to speak.
	"Good morning" she said, and then another clap of thunder shook
the room.  "Don't worry, the thunderstorm is letting up a little
now."
	Lynn looked down upon the man, lying in his striped pajamas,
his blanket still tucked as neatly under his chin as the evening
shift nurse had left it hours ago.
	"How terrible" she thought, "to not be able to toss and turn in
bed.  To have to lie in the same position all night.  How could
you ever hide completely under the blanket, if some cold night
visitor arrived?  How could you find proper refuge in the safety
of your bed, pull your toes up from the edge, cover your head
from whatever had spooked you in a nightmare?  You just have to
lie in that spot, all night long."
	His pale face was lit from the side by a flash of lightning. 
Soon, thunder rolled through the room once again, as she gently
pulled down the blanket and took his pulse.  Recording it on a
clipboard, she prepared to change his bedpan.
	"I know I've told you about the new drug we can give you" she
said as she worked.  "Your son and his wife think it will really
help you.  In Australia, they've been performing miracles, on
people paralyzed just like you.  Supposedly--"
	She paused while setting the dirty pan on a metal cart. 
"Supposedly it helps nerves repair themselves, even ones damaged
now for years."
	Mr. Tetley heard her words.  It was so long since he had moved
his arms, that he knew his muscles to be hopelessly atrophied. 
Years of paralysis had washed away his initial bitterness about
his predicament, and he had resigned himself to live this way
for the remainder of his life.  He had once longed for death,
especially after being brought to the home.
	All he had now were memories, and they still burned brightly in
his mind.  They were his gift to the Other, who then took those
memories and fashioned reality out of them.  Mr. Tetley was sad
today, realizing that all of the patients would have to remain
indoors, because of the weather.  From his room, the Other would
be too distant, unable to reach into his mind and open new
doors, allowing him to walk again, to talk again, to see his
wife's eyes again, feel his son's little heart beating as he
fell asleep in his arms as an infant.
	The talk of this new drug had occupied many of his thoughts,
however, gradually awakening a repressed desire to be well
again, to enjoy whatever years remained in his existence in the
fullest way possible.  Doctors from New York City had examined
him.  In the City, the drug was being tested in the states for
the first time.  After examining many of the patients at
Middleton, it was determined that five of them would be suitable
test subjects.  Of those, only three families agreed to have the
drug administered, and then under only the closest supervision
and monitoring.
	"One of the New York doctors, Dr. Kinson, will be staying here
for a while, to supervise your progress.  Your first injection
will be in just a couple hours.  Until then, I need you to keep
resting in bed.  Okay?"
	Mr. Tetley tried to summon a smile, but instead a tear formed
in the corner of his eye.
	"To be young again" he thought.  "To just be able to sit up
again on my own, to go to the bathroom on a toilet.  To see my
son and his family, even if they were just blurs against the
background.  Please God, let the drug work."
	The nurse wheeled the cart from his room, and he heard his door
being closed very softly.  Outside, the storm was subsiding, and
the thunder was barely audible now, as the thunderheads had
already raced overhead and were far inland.
	Closing his eyes, he hoped that the Other would not be lonely,
out there beneath the gray waters, the lightless depths of the
ocean.  No sunshine would reach him today.  Maybe the sun would
shine again tomorrow.

	In the rough currents, he slowly propelled himself to deeper
waters.  The water became cold.  He breathed in the chilled
water and felt relief.  His eyes perceived little or nothing
down here, where rays of light scintillated and disappeared like
swords into the depths.  Above, the boundary soon became light,
though it kept a dull gray color.  The kinks of light were
softer, as raindrops produced dents in the surface.
	He felt lonely, realizing that the others, those beyond the
boundary, were beyond his grasp.  The psychic tendrils, many
days extending like the ribs of a parasol to gather in rays of
light, would remained furled.
	Around him, the process of life continued, and he sensed the
energy of other creatures, meager though those sources of
energies were compared to his friends beyond the great boundary.
He meddled in their thoughts occasionally, amazed at the
singular orientation of their conduct, to eat, to excrete, to
flee from danger.  Their thoughts amused him to some extent, and
he gradually bored of their shallowness.
	Down here, the roughness of the boundary was barely noticed,
and the current was gentle and unidirectional.  As the waters
slowly moved out with the tide, he felt himself moving, with
barely perceptible speed, as the invisible bottom scrolled
beneath him.
	A predator appeared from the depths, its body glowing a dull
gray as it moved towards him, its shape a curious oval, with a
wide black slit along one edge.  He reached out, his mind
expanding until it encompassed the predator.  He shivered when
he felt its energy, focused now upon him, as he floated in the
cold depths.
	The predator's energy was focused, but, like a powerful light
beam, it could be deflected easily with a mirror.  He did just
that, nullifying the predator's psychic energy.  It moved by him
slowly, the tip of its dorsal fin stroking him gently as it
passed.  It continued on, searching for food.

	Michael walked through the main parlor.  He was careful to walk
along the oriental rugs, to prevent his work shoes from clomping
on the wooden floor.  Gray light streamed through the bay
windows, and a large television set was on, its speaker blaring
loudly to enable the patients to hear the program.
	He saw Lynn on the middle of the room, administering several
pills to an aged woman seated on the couch, directly in front of
the TV.  He watched the old woman's hands, palsied and
quivering, grasp the glass of water.
	Lynn patted the woman on the shoulder and turned, seeing the
electrician.  She smiled and walked toward him.
	"How's work going?" she asked, a wide smile on her face.
	"Oh, pretty good so far.  Installing some new outlets in the
dining area."
	Lynn held a tablet of white paper.  Michael could see writing
scrawled over the top sheet.  He tried to read it upside-down,
as Lynn continued.
	"So, how's spaghetti sound for dinner tonight?"
	He could read the writing, through slowly, since the letters
were misshapen and angled on the page.  The words were large,
and one was misspelled.
	"I miss my frend in the sea" the words said.
	He looked up, confronting Lynn's puzzled gaze.
	"Well?"
	"I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said.  I was reading what
was on the page."
	"I said, how's spaghetti for dinner?"
	"Great.  Fine with me.  I'll boil it if you make the sauce."
	"Oh, you want the easy part.  Very well then."
	"Did that woman over there write that?"
	He pointed to the tablet, which Lynn raised, reading the words.
	"Yes.  She likes to watch the Price is Right.  She uses the
tablet to write down her bids for the products.  Funny though,
she didn't write down any numbers today."
	"Who is her friend in the sea?"
	Lynn shrugged her shoulders.  "Maybe somebody she knew a long
time ago.  Maybe someone she imagined.  She's not all there
anymore."
	"Well, I have to get back to work.  See you at six?"
	"Okay, handyman" Lynn said, over her shoulder, as she walked
out of the parlor, to fetch more medication for her patients. 
Michael began walking to the opposite end of the high-ceilinged
room.  As he neared the hallway, he saw an old man, walking
towards him through the hall.  He lurched as he walked, propped
up largely with a wooden cane.
	Michael was about to walk by the man, when he heard him speak.
	"Hello.  Are you new here?"
	Michael turned to face the man.  "Yes, I'm the new electrician."
	"Good, good.  Keep the lights runnin', will ya'?"
	"Hope so, as long as the power company cooperates with me."
	The old man smiled and chuckled.
	"It's so miserable today, with all the rain.  I can't get into
the garden, and the McGill girls can't visit with their friend."
	"Their friend?  A relative coming to visit them?"
	"No, no." The old man pointed through the bay window, toward
the row of tree branches dancing in the storm.
	"Her friend in the sea."
	He turned slowly, continuing into the middle of the parlor,
where he found a seat on the couch.  John returned to his work,
puzzled by what he had heard.
	For the rest of the day, he couldn't forget the writing on the
tablet.  Was the old woman in the parlor one of the McGill
girls?  Perhaps she and the old man were friends.  Assured that
this was the case, his thoughts returned to the work at hand. 
As he completed the wiring of the outlet, he looked around the
large dining room, filled with a variety of tables, some small
enough to seat only two, others long and wide, capable of
seating several dozen people.
	Beautiful paintings lined the walls, and Michael surmised that
they were originals.  One was a portrait of a distinguished
looking gentleman in his sixties, with a monocle and gray hair. 
He was standing in front of bookcases, evidently his personal
library.  Beneath his chest, on the edge of the heavy, wooden
frame, was a brass plate, embossed with the name "Monroe J.
Middleton, II".
	"He must have donated this place to be used as the home"
Michael thought.  Barney soon entered the dining room, with some
plaster mixture and several cans of paint.  Brushes jutted from
his pockets.
	"All done" Michael said.
	Barney looked carefully at his work.
	"Very neatly done.  I'll just touch up around the new outlet,
and then join you down in the basement.  I need a lot more help
with the cold water line coming into the number 4 heater."
	"I'll be there.  Just need to put away my tools."
	He exited the dining room, as he smelled the plaster mixture
and heard Barney smoothing it into the groove around the
electrical outlet.

	Michael grabbed a bunch of pasta noodles and raised it from the
boiling water.  The spaghetti steamed and gave off a pleasant
aroma as he picked off a single strand and placed one end into
his mouth.  Lynn watched him suck the noodle completely into his
mouth.
	"Done yet?"
	He looked at her, embarrassed.  "Just about.  Give it another
minute."
	She was stirring a pot of sauce on the stove.  If she stopped
even for a moment, the sauce would begin heaving in the pot,
spitting droplets of red around the stove and the kitchen. 
Carol Ann was running around the house, and she occasionally
entered the kitchen, weaving her way between Michael and her
mother, as they prepared dinner.
	"My first day went really well.  I like Barney."
	"Everyone does.  He can sometimes seem a little gruff, but
that's just his way.  He's been a lonely man ever since his
sister died, about five years ago."
	"How old was she?"
	"Only about fifty.  Died suddenly of a heart attack.  She
wasn't overweight, she ate right, didn't drink or smoke..."
	She switched off the electric burner and continued to stir the
sauce.  Michael tasted another strand of spaghetti, and he
turned off the heat as well.
	"Look out, here she comes."
	Lynn backed away, and Michael carried the large, gleaming pot
between two oven mittens.  Moving to the sink, he dumped the
contents of the pot into a metal colander.  A cloud of steam
rose about him, and he set the pot back onto the burner.
	"I'll get the plates" Lynn volunteered.
	"So, do most of the patients watch television?"
	"Oh, those who can see and hear.  I suppose watching pictures
on the screen keeps some of the deaf patients awake and
interested in the world, whereas those who are blind can hear
the sounds.
	"One of the women, in fact Miss Higgins, the woman who was
writing on the tablet today in the parlor--"
	"I thought she was one of the McGill girls."
	"Who told you about the McGill sisters?"  Lynn looked surprised
that he had learned about some of the patients on his first day
as a maintenance worker.
	"I saw a man patient, hobbling through the hallway with his
cane, just outside the parlor.  He said that one of the McGill
girls was very lonely today, since she couldn't see her friend. 
When I asked him who the friend was, all he said was that she
had a friend in the sea.  Remember what Miss Higgins was writing
on her tablet?  Something about her friend in the sea?  I put
two and two together, assuming they were one and the same
person."
	"No, the McGill sisters weren't in the parlor at all today. 
That was Miss Higgins."
	Michael looked very puzzled, as he leaned back against the edge
of the sink.
	"Why would two patients talk or write about a friend IN the
sea?   Are they friends of each other?"
	"Not that I know of.  Besides, many of the patients, with all
of their problems, aren't very consistent.  The man you saw may
have been confusing one of the McGill sisters with Miss Higgins.
Perhaps there's someone who sails by the home, just offshore,
on a regular basis.  Maybe a lot of people at the home see the
boat, while sitting on the balcony.  That could be their friend
in the sea."
	"I suppose even seeing one boat every day would be something
that the patients could look forward too."
	"Exactly.  Many of the patients say some very strange things,
things that stop you dead in your tracks, making your mind race
to think of what they are talking about, if anything at all. 
Mr. Smith always mixes up his dreams with reality.  One day, he
referred to me as his wife to another nurse.  It ends up that he
dreamt that we were married, the night before."
	Lynn began serving the spaghetti on two white, china plates. 
Carol Ann ran to the table, situated in the dining room, just
beyond the kitchen's breakfast nook, and she began to play with
the silverware.
	He moved out of the way as Lynn lifted the pot of sauce and
began to spoon it over two large plates and one small plate of
steaming spaghetti.
	"So, what do you folks usually do on the weekend, seeing that
tomorrow is Saturday?"
	"I usually take Carol Ann to the beach."
	"Are there any flat beaches around?  Everything is so rocky."
	"There's a nice beach, about a half hour north of the home. 
But Carol Ann wants to go the bottom of the sea cliff."
	"Yeah" Carol Ann said, just as she began to toy with her
spaghetti.  Her mother had cut the noodles into small pieces,
but she was still making a mess.
	"Near the home?"
	"Yes.  There's a thin, flat area of sand and grass, just above
where the waves come in.  You can get down there by a path from
the top.  It's a lot of fun."
	"Please come too" Carol Ann said, very slowly.  She struggled
to pronounce the words correctly.
	"Okay, I'll come, if it's okay with your mom."
	"We'd love to have you" Lynn said, as she began to eat her
spaghetti.  "The weather is already clearing up, and tomorrow,
it's supposed to be sunny and 70.  With the wind near the water,
though, you should take a jacket.  We can park in the lot at
Middleton and then hike north to where the path is.  We'll have
to climb over a wooden fence, which is there to keep any of the
patients from getting near the cliffs."
	"Sounds good" Michael replied.  "What time should we get
started?"
	"Oh, meet us here for breakfast at about nine."

	That night, Mr. Tetley felt drowsy, aided by the medication
administered by the nurse.  His facial muscles were twitching
occasionally, and this kept him awake, as rain continued to drum
on his bedroom window.
	He heard his breathing, which mingled with the sound of his
pulse.  As he closed his eyes, he said a prayer to God, asking
that he be able to see again.  Memories of his son and his
family flowed through his mind, and he felt anxious for their
next visit, now less than two days from now.
	As he drifted slowly to sleep, he began to see flashes of
color, sparks of light dancing against his eyelids.  He saw the
flashes reflect against something, but he wasn't sure what.  A
smile crossed his face, and he fell into a deep sleep.  There,
he dreamed about swimming in the sea, beyond the rock cliffs and
pinnacles of stone that rose from the depths.

	Michael lifted a giggling Carol Ann to the ground, and Lynn
boosted herself atop the wooden fence.  Extending her legs, she
descended to the ground, and they continued their walk towards
the cliff's edge.
	The sky was crisp and clear this morning, and the morning
sunlight clearly outlined the border between the sea and the
sky.  The water was rough, and large waves thundered against a
natural break wall further out to sea.  The remnant waves
continued in further, expending themselves as banks of hissing
foam onto the rocks at the base of the cliff.
	They walked through tall grass, which moved in waves much like
the water.  As walls of moving air met the ground, patterns
appeared in the grass.  Michael watched with interest at the
invisible force, which formed crests and troughs in the grass. 
As the grass waves moved by him, the wind suddenly gusted and
then subsided.
	Carol Ann began to run ahead of her mother, so Lynn caught up
to her, taking her gently by the hand.  The little girl slowed
and then stopped, as she stood at the top of the path.
	Michael drew up behind them, watching Lynn's blue sweatclothes
flap in the wind.  She had drawn a hood over her head, in a
futile attempt to prevent the wind from ruining her hair.  Carol
Ann was clothed in pink sweatclothes and bright, multicolored
sneakers.
	Zipping his jacket up to his neck, Michael walked forward,
feeling the wind rise, causing tears to form in his eyes. 
Removing his glasses from his pocket, he donned them and felt
some relief.
	They now stood at the top of the cliff.  The sandy path, dotted
with blades of grass and shrubs that quivered in the wind, wound
its way amongst outcroppings of black and gray rock.  The
tortuous patch extended for about a hundred feet down along the
face of the cliff, disappearing from view around a massive
pinnacle of stone.
	Lynn began the descent, watching her daughter's every step. 
She smiled when her daughter turned to make sure that Michael
would follow them.
	"Don't be afraid" she said.
	"It's okay, I'm coming" Michael said.
	They continued, stopping occasionally to watch the seagulls
diving and swooping from the cliff top.  Soon, they had reached
the massive stone pinnacle.  As they rounded it, Michael saw the
flat piece of ground, beyond which the terrain steepened until
reaching the sea.
	As they entered the clearing, Lynn unfolded a heavy blue quilt,
and Michael helped her spread it onto the ground.  Carol Ann,
knowing their usual routine, found the four rocks that they kept
piled at the seaward edge of the clearing.
	She brought them over, one by one, weighting down each corner
of the blanket.  Lynn and Michael watched her patiently, at one
point looking at each other and smiling.
	When Carol Ann had finished, she walked to the center of the
blanket and sat down abruptly.  Lynn sat down, behind her
daughter, and Michael took his place closer to the water.  They
said nothing for a while, as they drank in the wild beauty of
the sea that lay before them.
	Waves roared into the wall of stone, about twenty feet beyond
them.  As the wall of water reflected from the cliff, it would
meet another wave on its shoreward trek, and the two would
collide, producing an explosion of foam.  The larger collisions
produced a vibration in the cliff that Michael could feel.
	"This is beautiful" Michael said at last.
	He heard no reply, and he realized that he was speaking into
the roaring sea, and that neither of his companions had heard
him.
	He turned and saw Carol Ann leaning back, into her mother's
arms.  Lynn rocked her gently back and forth, the cool wind
swirling around them.
	"Who cleared this path?" Michael asked.
	Lynn cleared the hair from her eyes.
	"During the week, some local guys come down here and try to
fish off the edge of the cliff.  I suppose they made the path. 
Most of them are pretty old, so they might have cleared it many
years ago."
	"Will any of them come here today?"
	"I doubt it" Lynn replied.  "They usually only fish when the
water is calm."
	Michael nodded at her reply and turned back to the sea.  Far
out in the distance, a freighter moved along the horizon.  The
ship produced a thin cloud of black smoke that dispersed upon
the wind.
	Lynn reached into their picnic basket and produced a pair of
large, rubberized binoculars.  Removing the lens caps, she aimed
the optics toward the horizon.  She turned the focusing knob
slowly.  When she had adjusted it to her satisfaction, she
lowered the binoculars and handed them to her daughter.
	"See that big ship, way out there?"
	Her daughter took the binoculars clumsily, after her mother had
swiveled the eyepieces as closely together as possible.  She
helped Carol Ann hold the heavy binoculars, and soon, her small
mouth opened in a smile.
	"I see it!"  Her hands grasped her mother's hands tightly. 
"It's HUGE!"
	Soon, her mother lowered the binoculars.
	"Let's let Michael see the ship too."
	"Okay."
	She handed the binoculars to Michael, who quickly trained them
on the horizon.  It was a large freighter, probably fully loaded
by the position of the waterline.  The hull wore a weathered
shade of blue, and patches of rust could be seen near the metal
railings that ran around the deck.  Black smoke rose from the
stack that grew from the rear deckhouse.
	"Where's it going?" Carol Ann asked.
	"Probably to Europe, across the ocean" Michael replied.
	He turned to hand the binoculars back to Lynn.
	"No, that's okay.  You can use them for a while."
	"Are you sure?"
	"Yeah.  I've used them so much, that I've already seen
everything of interest along the shore."
	They sat in silence for while, enjoying the warmth of the sun. 
Michael looked upward, along the face of the cliff.  To his
right, he could see the underside of the observation deck at
Middleton.  The dark, wooden structure extended slightly beyond
the edge of the cliff, the boards anchored securely to the rock
beneath them.
	Michael turned and saw that Carol Ann and her mother were lying
on the blanket, their eyes closed, looks of contentment on their
faces.  Just then, a large wave broke against the rock below,
spraying a fine mist of salt water into the air.  He watched the
cloud approaching, and then it overtook him.  For a second, he
thought his face was going to freeze solid, but the sunlight
soon evaporated the water.
	Looking to his friends, he saw that the mist had not reached
them, as they were lying in the midst of the clearing, which lay
a couple feet below the rim of surrounding rock.
	"A natural shield" he thought.  Setting the binoculars onto the
blanket, he lay down as well, on his back.  Closing his eyes, he
watched the sunlight, now bright orange through his eyelids.
	The ground shook as more waves pounded the cliff, and he opened
one eye for an instant, just in time to see another cloud of
mist rise and move harmlessly overhead.  Closing both eyes
again, he folded his hands behind his head.  He felt so safe
here, as did Lynn and Carol Ann.  His mind began to drift, first
within the realm of conscious thought.  Soon, however, he fell
asleep, as the sun climbed higher into the sky.

	He was standing on the beach.  Behind him, he could hear
children playing.  Stepping forward, his bare feet moved from
grass to sand.  The sand was soft and warm, and he wiggled his
toes within it.  Looking up, he saw the sea, thundering into
shore.
	Just ten minutes ago, his family had been driving on the
highway.  He had been sitting with his nose flattened against
the window, awaiting his first view of the ocean.  Then, between
two speeding trees, he had seen a vast region of dark blue,
outlined clearly beneath the lighter blue of the sky.
	At first, he wasn't sure if he had seen the ocean.  Suddenly,
the car had emerged from the tree cover, and they were now
riding on the highway, in clear view of the sea.  This time, he
correctly interpreted what he was seeing.
	A seemingly infinite expanse of green and blue stretched out
before him, and he could see the slight curvature of the earth
on the horizon.  Near shore, the water was dark green and foamy,
as waves rolled smoothly onto the beach.  Further out, where the
water became deep, the green gave way to blue.  When the car
finally halted in the beach parking lot, he opened his door
before the ignition was off and the jingling keys were in his
father's right hand.
	"Wait for us!" he had heard his mother say, as he bounded onto
shallow dunes of white sand and green grass.  Over one dune and
then another, he finally stood face to face with the sea, its
sonorous rumble entrancing him as he stood on the sand.

	He awoke momentarily.  He squinted at first in the bright
sunlight, until his eyes adjusted to the orange glow that
penetrated his eyelids.  Behind himself, he heard the pounding
of the surf, and he felt the vibrations from the larger waves.
	A seagull squawked as it flew overhead, and he opened his eyes
briefly, as its shadow passed over him.  It repeated its call,
which diminished as it continued its trek along the beach.
	Every muscle relaxed in his body, in the cool breeze which
moved over the land after skimming over countless waves.  His
mind drifted, and he felt an emotional calm.  His first day at
work had gone well, and he could tell that his boss had been
impressed with his work.  With a job for at least the near
future, life had suddenly returned to being an experience that
he enjoyed.
	He felt Carol Ann moving around on the blanket, probably in her
mother's arms.  Michael knew that Lynn, her mother, trusted him.
This was the most important aspect of his growing friendship
with Lynn's family.  He felt a certain belonging, and though he
knew that he would soon be finding his own apartment near
Middleton, he also realized that he had begun a friendship that
would continue to grow for a long time to come.
	Then, he felt drowsiness overtaking him.  Without resistance,
he soon fell asleep.

	Michael stood on the edge of a massive boulder.  Looking down,
he saw that his feet were bare and white against the dark stone.
The rock felt warm against the soles of his feet.  Suddenly,
just as he looked up, he felt a rush of cold momentum, engulfing
his legs.  A huge wave had somehow made it past the natural
break wall further out to sea and was spending its energy on the
rocks below.  The foaming water tore him from his balance, and
he felt himself falling forward.
	At first, he felt shock and terror, as he saw the gurgling
waters below, swirling dark and glassy against the rocks. 
Terror gave way to exhilaration, as he felt himself knife into
the water.  For an instant, he saw himself from a distance, as
his body elongated.  His hands, then his head, then his torso,
pierced the surface.
	In the blink of an eye, he was underwater.  He felt cold
swirling motions, moving over his back like a giant, icy buffing
pad.  He descended into the depths, and he felt himself moving
rapidly.  He tried to move his feet independently of each other,
but they seemed fused together.  He stopped swimming, and he was
amazed as he brought his knees under himself to view his lower
legs.
	His shins and feet had fused to form a large fin.  Its scaly
surface was almost two feet wide, and it tickled as he ran his
hands over the fin's surface.  Forgetting that he hadn't
breathed in a while, he inhaled, and the cool water filled his
throat, then his lungs.
	Breathing was effortless down here.  He began to swim again,
now energized by the discovery of his miraculous metamorphosis. 
Down he went, into the green-black depths.  Daggers of sunlight
pierced the water about him, and schools of fish navigated
amongst the luminous spikes.
	Then he felt someone trying to grab his flipper.  Turning with
the agility of a dolphin, he saw the radiant face of Lynn.  Her
hair flowed like wet strands of gold, in the currents that
swirled and flowed this far underwater.  She was naked, and his
glance swept along her body.  His mind felt pleasure at the
sight of her, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her face, her
eyes, her flowing, bright hair.
	Her flipper was green and metallic, merging near her waist with
her legs.  She smiled and swam around him, poking playfully at
him with her fingers.  Carol Ann swam at both of them, as she
ascended from still greater depths.
	She was like some cherub, who had given up life in the clouds
to mingle with the cold, sparkling depths of the sea.  Michael
felt honored to behold her, as she swam into her mother's arms,
with the grace and beauty of a white dove in the morning,
searching for that one place suitable to be called home.
	The three of them instinctively headed for the open sea, the
bottom below them fading from view as it descended, beneath the
fish that moved in unison, their bellies flashing in the
sunlight.

	Michael awoke suddenly, when he heard a loud noise.  Rising
quickly to his elbows, he saw that a seagull was perched on a
rock.  It had eyed their picnic basket, and like all seagulls,
it wanted the first crack at their lunch.
	"Shoo!" he heard Lynn yell, and the seagull screeched and took
again to the air.
	Michael sat up and turned to face Lynn.  She was so pretty, the
sun dancing in her eyes, her daughter still half-asleep in her
arms.
	"I couldn't stay awake.  The sound of the waves puts me to
sleep."
	"You and me both" Lynn replied.  "I just had this crazy dream."
	"So did I. I became a mermaid or something, after a big wave
dragged me into the water."
	Lynn's eyes widened, and she sat up quickly, pulling the hair
behind her head.
	"Did you hear me talking in my sleep or something?"
	Michael was worried that he had upset her.
	"What's wrong?"
	"I dreamt that all three of us were mermaids.  Or I guess you
had become a merman.  We swam together, in schools of fish.  We
were heading deep into the sea when that stupid bird woke me up."
	Michael's heart was in his throat, his pulse racing as she
explained every detail of the dream.  She hesitantly described
the experience, as she became more unnerved each time Michael
nodded and completed her thought.
	They sat for another hour, concurring on every point of the
dream that they had miraculously shared.

	"How could this have happened?" Michael asked, praying that she
would have an explanation.  Just then, Carol Ann's eyes opened,
and she rubbed them with her tiny, snow-white hands.
	"Carol Ann" her mother said softly.  "Did you just have a
wonderful dream?"
	The little girl nodded slowly.
	"What was it about?"
	The girl looked at Michael, then to the surf that broke beyond
him.
	"Swimming ... with fish" she said slowly.
	"Did you dream that all three of us were swimming, right out
there?" Michael pointed out to sea, just as the little girl
nodded.
	"Did mommy have a tail like a fish?" Lynn asked.
	Carol Ann nodded again.
	Tears formed in Lynn's eyes.
	"What happened to us?" she asked, her voice almost breaking.
	Michael drew closer to her and her daughter, and he held Lynn's
left hand.
	"I have no idea.  But it scares the hell out of me too."
	He paused and sighed deeply.
	"I think we're not the only ones who have experienced something
like this."
	"What do you mean?"
	"The old woman, yesterday, who was lonely because she couldn't
see her friend.  How many other patients at Middleton have had
the same experience?"
	"I don't know" Lynn said, shaking her head slowly.  "I don't
want to think that there's something ... something terrible
that's influencing all of us."
	"Calm down for a moment" Michael said.  "I don't see anything
bad or wrong in this at all.  We all had fun in the dream,
didn't we?  The old woman at the home referred to it as her
friend."
	"What do you mean, it?"
	Michael looked out to sea for several seconds, before turning
to face her again.
	"I think there's something, some force, out there, with the
ability to communicate with us."
	"What kind of force?"
	"I don't know.  What other explanation could there be?"
	"Why did it wait until we had fallen asleep, though?"
	"I think it had to wait until we were asleep.  Perhaps its
powers aren't great enough to break into our conscious thoughts.
Only when we're quiet and open to suggestion can it affect our
minds."
	"But it has the power to contact more than one person at once."
	"Yes, at least three at the same time.  Who knows how many
patients this thing is talking to.  Let me ask you this.  Do any
patients ever get down this close to the water?"
	"No way.  The closest they get is the overlook, at the top of
the cliff."
	"And they're only brought there during nice weather, right? 
Not when it's raining."
	"Yes.  I see where you're headed.  Alice, the woman you saw
yesterday in the parlor, said that, because of the rain, she
wouldn't be able to visit her friend."
	"Exactly" Michael said.  "Because she was much further back
from the water, in the home itself.  Who knows, maybe rain and
thunder scare this thing away.  Maybe, in bad weather, it hides
further out to sea, in much deeper water."
	"That means it's contacting the patients somehow, while they're
at the overlook."
	"Do many of them fall asleep while they're at the overlook?"
	"Yes, most of them do, in fact.  But perhaps the others, though
awake, are still contacted.  Their senses are dulled by illness
and age.  As a result, they're less connected with conscious
reality than you or me.  Maybe it can contact them as long as
they're close enough to the water."
	"Then I wonder if we could contact it more completely if we
were even closer than we are now?"
	Lynn felt a chill move down her spine.  She remembered
countless horror movies, where inquisitive people like Michael
had dared get too close to whatever it was that lay in the dark
corner of a basement, or the bottom of a lake.  Curiosity was an
admirable trait, but she felt terrified at the thought of
risking their lives, by trying to find whatever it was that had
contacted them.
	"Why do want to risk yourself?" Lynn asked.  "What if it's
dangerous?  What if it's trying to lure us further?"
	"It can't want to kill us.  Why would it kill us?  For food,
right?  Well, there's a lot of fish down there, so it can't be
that it's too hungry.  I think it's lonely."
	Lynn smiled when he said this.
	"Are you sure you aren't projecting your own thoughts upon that
thing?"
	"I'm sure I'm not" Michael replied, his face remaining serious.
 "I say we, just you and I, bring a boat out here."
	"The water's too rough, though.  What about the rocks and the
break wall out there?"
	"If we can rent a large enough boat, we could stay very far off
shore.  Maybe it's miles out there."
	"I don't think so" Lynn said.  "If the distance between the
overlook and the home is only a couple hundred feet, then this
strange being must be near shore for that distance to make a
difference.  If it were twenty miles out to sea, why would two
hundred feet mean the difference between being able and not
being able to make contact with the patients?"
	"I see your point.  Then maybe we can contact it in a different
way."
	"How?" 
	"Just like we have already done.  In our dreams.  What if we
fall asleep again, this time resolving that, when we dream, we
will try to make direct contact with the creature?"
	"Do you think it would be safe?"
	"I sense no evil here.  Do you?"
	Lynn thought for a while.  "No.  I'm just scared for us,
especially Carol Ann."
	"Then what if you stay awake, and I'll fall asleep again."
	"Okay" Lynn said.  "I'd be okay with that."
	"Good" Michael said.  "Good night then" he said, as he lay back
down on the blanket and closed his eyes."
	"Be careful" Lynn whispered.
	As the smile faded from Michael's face, he opened his mind.  He
let himself calm down, his heartbeat slowing as he focused his
thoughts on the control of his approaching dream state.
	"You will dream that you can see the creature" he told himself,
again and again.  He imagined himself, in control of his own
dreams, reaching across the mental gap between himself and the
unknown, to initiate direct contact.
	His thoughts began to drift, and he heard the periodicity in
the surf. The waves were shrinking a little, as the wind was
slowing and shifting in direction.  Lynn watched him, but she
occasionally shifted her glance to the water, hoping against
hope that nothing would appear above the ocean surface. 
	"I hope he'll be okay" she thought, realizing that, if contact
were established, something irreparable might happen, without
her knowing anything about it, until it was too late.

	Touching new minds opened alternate possibilities.  The
initiation of contact, the first flow of energy, the first
melding of his own energies with those beyond the great barrier,
was of unceasing amazement.
	The shock of meeting and adapting to the flow of new
mentalities sharpened his power, by necessitating the energy of
thought to liquefy, to flow into the porous holes of the
newcomer, to shift and bend with the peculiar ebb and flow of an
alien intellect -- here was the challenge, the exhilaration of
first contact.
	But first contact was just the beginning, and, for those minds
which he only had the chance to touch once, he felt remorse.  A
certain domain within his mind would remain active for a while,
fertile for the reception and exchange of energy with an entity,
until, merely through disuse, it would wither and merge with the
central reservoir of his mind, about to shape and forge new
possibilities from further contact.
	Yes, it was the repeated contact, enabling him to refine the
transfer process, that brought peace and joy.  Like a magnet,
those beyond the barrier attracted him, toward the coast against
which the swell expended their energy.
	Twisting his body gracefully, he breathed in the cool water,
plankton tickling his lips as the water rushed into his body. 
Below, he saw wrinkles of light, dancing on the forest of green.
Their branches swayed in the currents, which rolled him over
and over again, scouring his entirety with bubbles and foam.
	Then, having sensed the cessation of the contact, the
newcomers' combined consciousness, now overactive and beyond the
delicate touch of his psychic tentacles, he began moving, very
slowly, to deeper water. 
	As he continued to move further from shore, he prepared to make
the short journey to the stone forest, where he would remain
until the dancing light turned orange and then vanished.  He
felt a gap.
	Slight though it was, he tuned his mind, energy soon slipping
in the direction from which he had encountered the new ones.  As
the gap took substance from the firmament, he reached forth. 
Thoughts touched his mind, in a way to which he was not
accustomed, and curiosity sent him streaming toward the
shoreline.
	One of the newcomers had returned, seeking his company. 
Overjoyed, he answered the call.

	Michael stood on the shoreline, warming his feet on the rocks. 
He closed his eyes and felt the warm sun on his face.  The wind
became stiff, causing him to open his eyes to maintain his
balance.  The sky was clear and sunlit, Waves rolled into shore,
sending splashes of warm water over his legs.  He stepped closer
to the edge of the rock and stared into the dark waters below.
	His back began to itch, and he reached back to scratch it.  As
his fingers touched his back, the itching intensified, and the
sensation became unbearable.  Opening his eyes, he spied the
clear water, still washing his lower legs.  In an instant, he
dove into the water.  The coldness shocked his back, and he felt
the itching subside.
	Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
	"I'm dreaming."
	He recalled being with his friends on the shore.
	"You will realize when you are dreaming, and you will be able
to control the dream" he heard from memory.
	Turning to his left, he purposely swam ever deeper, the water
becoming dark and cold.  Fish swam about him, in all variety of
shapes and colors.  Yellow-orange sunfish darted about him,
their fins tickling his chest as they swam the length of his
body.
	It was then that he noticed that he was breathing, though his
exhalations emitted no air bubbles.  Breathing underwater was
effortless for him, and the water felt as thin as air.  Inhaling
cooled his lungs, as the water removed heat from his body's
interior.  A large fish, its body brown and decorated with red
stripes, swam in front of him, its colors shining in the
wrinkles of sunlight which descended from above.
	He turned so that he was now swimming with his chest facing the
surface.  He realized the great depth of the water here, and he
felt frightened at his distance below the surface.  Individual
waves were difficult to discern, and they looked like tiny
ripples from this depth.  The sunlight filtered through a
surface of liquid frosted glass, which shimmered most
brilliantly beneath the disk of the sun.
	As the large fish moved away from him, he felt new eyes
watching him.  The distant consciousness drew closer.  He felt
pressure on his back, and he turned slowly, his arms and feet
waving in the dim depths.
	Michael had turned about face when he saw something, moving
dimly out in the distance.  At first, it was a lighter patch of
haze which moved against the infinite backdrop of ocean. 
Slowly, however, it drew closer to him, its shape became
well-defined.   
	A shimmering mass of pink and white appeared.  Most of it was
clumped into the shape of a giant bell, over two yards in
diameter.   The huge hemisphere pulsed slowly but regularly in
these cold waters.  Small, reflective flecks peppered the
creature's exterior, and they shimmered as the bell pulsated. 
Below the bell, clumpy, fleshy trails of pink tissue dangled
down into the depths.  Michael was amazed to see such a gigantic
jellyfish.  Then he felt a voice speaking, though the words
formed more in his mind than upon the lips of the strange sea
creature before him.
	"Welcome" he felt the creature say to him.
	"Who are you?" he asked.  At first, he said the words with his
mouth, producing small trails of bubbles.  Realizing that their
communication was telepathic, however, he resumed the
conversation strictly within his mind.
	"You would not understand.  How have you contacted me in this
way?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"I have not spoken with many in this direct way.  Let me exist
through a reliving of your memories."
	"No" Michael said, realizing that the creature wanted him to
lose control, to give the reins of his dreams over to the Other.
"I am in control, at least for now, and I choose to remain in
control.  I am here to find out who you are.  Do you speak with
the old patients, the ones who live at the home atop the cliffs?"
	The creature sank a little before answering.
	"What voice would you have me use?  What voice would you expect
a being like myself to have?"
	"I wouldn't expect a jellyfish to be able to speak to me
telepathically in the first place.  So how could I say what I'd
expect your voice to sound like?"
	"Then perhaps I should appear in another form."
	Michael suddenly realized that he wasn't actually communicating
with a jellyfish at all.  It had merely taken the form of a
creature which had fascinated and frightened him as a boy.
	"No, appear to me in your true form, so that I can see what you
really look like.  No more games."
	"Is not the real me the one which can reach into your mind,
create new dreams, relive old dreams with you?  In that case,
you are seeing the real me already.  Of what significance is
seeing my physical form?"
	"Human curiosity.  Indulge me."
	"I cannot" the other said, in a soft masculine voice.  Then the
gigantic, pulsating body of the jellyfish receded, melting into
the soft backdrop of the sea.
	"Stay!  Don't leave me!" he shouted, again mouthing the words. 
Streams of bubbles rose upward, tickling his nose and forehead.
	He felt an emptiness, as the other removed its mind from his
own.  As the contacts were severed, one by one, he felt grave
disappointment, a mental hurt that made him want to chase and
find the strange, magical dolphin.  If and when he found it, he
would apologize and ask that they be able to talk again, to
reestablish the close link that had been created and lasted for
only a minute.

	Michael jerked awake, and he saw Lynn, sitting over him, her
hair blowing in the breeze.
	"My God" Michael said, a lump forming in his throat.  "There's
something there, and it took form for me,"
	"What did it look like?" Lynn asked.
	"A gigantic jellyfish, then nothing at all.  A fuzzy region of
space, melting into the deep."
	His head fell back to the blanket.
	"Take it easy" Lynn urged.  She stroked his brow with her hand,
and her human warmth brought him back from the inhuman
encounter, an encounter that he desired to repeat.
	"I will find him again" Michael promised her.  "And then, he
must reveal his true form to me."

	Mr. Tetley felt better than the previous day.  The nurse had
told him that the drug injections would continue tomorrow, since
he had already received three doses, the prescribed amount for
patients during the first week of treatment.
	He was wheeled today to the cafeteria, and he smelled eggs and
bacon, for the first time in years.  There, one of the nurses
fed him, and he was able to chew the food and swallow it.  The
flavors were bland, and his brain interpreted several things
incorrectly. 
	For the first time in over six years, Mr. Tetley really tasted
his breakfast, and his strengthening jaw muscles allowed him to
chew on his own, without the help of a food blender.  His
progress thus far was considered excellent by his neurologists. 
To Mr. Tetley himself, the most miraculous event of all had been
the slight improvement in his vision.  He was already able to
make out faint images, such as people walking around him.  For
now, the medical staff and his fellow patients looked like
smudges of lightness or darkness against a hazy background. 
Just the ability to visually discern people, however, elated
him, and he felt more joy when he remembered his family's
upcoming visit.  He knew he would be proud to reach out toward
his grandson without first having to have his hands placed onto
the boy's shoulders by someone else.
	After breakfast, he was wheeled outside, toward the overlook. 
The nurse was quiet today, forsaking her usual monologue to Mr.
Tetley, and instead, wheeling him noiselessly to his usual spot,
just several yards behind the railing.
	As she left him under the watch of the overlook afternoon
chaperone, he kept his eyes open, eager to take in the world as
completely as possible.  He leaned his head back and perceived
the blinding white disk of the sun. Looking forward again, he
saw the vague outlines of tree branches, swaying in the wind. 
Seabirds looked like patches of white against the blue sky.  But
it was the blue itself that mesmerized him.  The sea was blue,
as was the sky.  The bright light of the sun, unobscured by
clouds or fog, lit the sky brilliantly, allowing Mr. Tetley to
drink in the beauty of the day.  For the next hour, he reveled
in his improved condition, realizing that his health was
expected to improve even further, over the next several weeks.
	As the sun crossed noon in the sky, Mr. Tetley slowly grew
tired, and at last he closed his eyes to take a nap. 
Previously, he had fallen asleep just after being brought to the
overlook.  Now, however, he had fallen asleep over an hour after
being wheeled onto the balcony.
	As he drifted further into sleep, he soon began to dream.  He
had longed to meld with the Other, the one who lived beyond the
waves, far out at sea.  He had missed the Other, the one who had
returned him to younger, happier days, filled with the vibrant
energies of youth.  How many times the Other had given him
reason to continue, by reliving the past, he couldn't count. 
During his dreams, he felt it reaching out to him, to merge with
his subconscious mind, enabling them to take miraculous journeys
together.
	But the energies could not focus properly.  The energy level
within Mr. Tetley's mind would not permit the fusion.  Instead,
his sleep was troubled, filled with a confusing cacophony of
mental impulses, formed by the imperfect meld between their
minds.
	When Mr. Tetley awoke with a start, the nurse had just arrived
to return him to the parlor.  As she began to wheel him from the
overlook, she saw the scowl on his face.  Just then, a single
tear emerged from his left eye and trickled down his cheek.
	The Other, his friend through all matter of illness and
personal calamity, was receding from his existence.  The elation
he had experienced from the gradual improvement in his physical
condition was now tempered by the knowledge that he couldn't
enjoy both -- that if worse came to worse, he would forsake his
journeys into the past, choosing instead to progress into the
future.

	That night, Michael couldn't fall asleep.  At the opposite end
of the house, neither could Lynn.  They both lay in their
respective beds, the experiences of the day running repeatedly
through their minds.
	Lynn was afraid, both for herself and for her daughter. 
Something lived in the waters near their home, something
unearthly.  Michael had tried to convince her that the creature,
whatever it was, was benevolent.  Lynn was more cautious than
he, however, remembering how wonderful and trusting her former
husband had been, before he had begun to drink again.
	They had known each other since high school.  She had admired
Tom from a distance for years, since his family had moved to
their town from the distant state of California.  He was the
school's star jock, and he knew it.  Despite the contempt that
she and the other girls in the class had held for him, there was
a certain fascination with him, his strong body, the cockiness
that enabled him to defy the establishment and speak to the
teachers as equals.
	When her older brother befriended Tom Emswiller, at first she
had been afraid, worried that her friends would think less of
her, now that her brother was spending most of his free time
with him, Tom, the heartbreaker, Tom the rebel.  The first time
she had ventured behind the garage, she had found both of them
there, puffing quietly on a pair of cigarettes.
	She had tried to run away, but her brother had caught her from
behind, warning her, under pain of death, not to tell their
parents.  She had sworn secrecy, and when she left them to
return to the house, she had remembered that look in Tom's eyes.
She had managed a demure smile for him then.  The next time
they met, at the diner, without her brother around, Tom got
closer to her, too close for comfort. 
	Beer was on his breath, and his brashness, his confidence -- no
his cockiness,  enthralled her.  He spoke with the waitress at
the diner as though he were an adult.  It was the way he cocked
his head, the tone of his voice, and the way he held the
smoldering cigarette in his lips, that said he was a man.
	She knew that while other boys were staring painfully into the
mirror, praying for the growth of whiskers, that Tom had gone
beyond that.  Later that month, he asked her to the school
dance, and she accepted shyly.
	A month later, they were going together, and she was one of the
gang, roaming the local streets with him, her own brother, and
their friends.  Tom was the leader of the pack, and she was his
woman.  No one dared to bother her, with or without Tom's
presence, and she felt protected by his strength.
	Then, before she had really figured out what was happening in
their lives, Tom forced himself upon her one evening, in his
car.  She still recalled the smell of beer on his breath, his
breathing, his large body settling onto hers.
	From thence onward, their relationship became one-dimensional,
as she tried to satisfy his sexual urges and maintain the
secrecy of the forbidden fruits they shared.  Finally, in their
senior year of high school, she missed one period, then another.
With both of them turning eighteen, her father, usually able to
ignore both his children completely, had to deal with the
situation.  In the end, Lynn and Tom were married, and she gave
birth to Carol Ann.
	The next two years were hell on Earth, as Tom continued to
drink with his male friends, carousing to all hours at the local
bars, coming home sometimes with smudges of lipstick, his body
perspiring and smelling of whiskey.  She tried in vain to cure
him of his immature ways.  Fortunately, she had possessed the
courage and strength of will to discontinue the marriage before
he had begun to inflict his drunken violence on Lynn and her
daughter.  The battle for custody during the divorce proceedings
was nonexistent, as Tom was happier to be rid of Carol Ann in
the first place, blaming all of his life's problems on her birth.
	Fortunately, Carol Ann didn't have a single recollection of
life with Tom, and Lynn wanted to keep it that way, at least
until Carol Ann was ready to hear the full story of her mother's
broken marriage.
	Lynn thought upon all of these things as she lay there, trying
in vain to force sleep upon herself.  She hadn't seen Tom since
the last day of the divorce proceedings, and, since she was
receiving no payments from her out-of-work ex-husband, she had
no desire to ever see him again.
	Lynn tired of thinking upon the past miseries in her life, and
she turned to the immediate thoughts of the mysterious creature,
the Other, as Michael called it.  She was afraid of Michael's
curiosity.  Would his actions bring danger to them, to everyone
at Middleton?  For a moment, she thought of kicking him out of
her house, of somehow getting the administration to fire him, to
purge Middleton of him.  Realizing her growing friendship with
him, she knew she could never do such a thing, so she allowed
herself to be afraid, afraid of the creature and what it might
do.
	"Please let Michael be all right" she prayed, mouthing the
words silently with her lips.
	Meanwhile, Michael was tossing on his bed, his mind turning
over his experience again and again.  He kept seeing the giant
jellyfish, floating within the warm ocean of his subconscious. 
From that point onward, he began to devise a plan, to physically
confront the Other, out there in the deep, cold waters.
	He decided to not tell Lynn until he had formulated a complete
plan of action.  There was the problem of just getting out
there, beyond the dangerous waves and rocks that jutted from the
sea bottom.  Once at sea, the next question was of how to get
underwater to see the Other, face to face.  The water was very
cold, year-round.  Also, he knew nothing about scuba diving, and
he couldn't imagine hiring someone else to dive there for hire.
	"What is the Other?" he wondered.  "Where did it come from? 
Maybe it's from another world, or maybe it's part of some
species, one unknown to science.  It could be a common sea
creature, one that's never been thought of as intelligent."	
	He considered the possibility that they had contacted a sea
mammal, such as a whale or a dolphin, but he doubted this.
Dolphins and whales had already been studied thoroughly,
especially in captivity, but had never heard anything about the
miraculous telepathic ability which the Other possessed.
	Soon, Michael got out of bed and walked quietly through the
darkened house, soon emerging onto the porch that overlooked the
woods, now alive with the sounds of night insects.  He shivered
at first in the cold draft that moved by him.
	"I suppose you can't sleep either."
	He jerked to the side, seeing Lynn's silhouette against the
porch furniture.  He saw down on the small couch next to her.
	"No.  I'm too worked up, from what we experienced today.  I
won't sleep for a week."
	"Promise me you won't put yourself in danger" she said softly. 
She moved towards him, their shoulders now touching.
	"I promise" he said.
	"And don't go looking for that thing.  If it does the patients
at Middleton some good, so be it.  But we're healthy and aware
of our world.  We don't need to contact the Other."
	"I can't promise you I won't try to learn more about it."
	She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.  Soon,
they had both fallen asleep.

	Mr. Tetley opened his eyes.  Above him, beneath a bright light
that bathed the entire room, he saw two men gazing down at him. 
It was an exhilarating experience just to know that his vision
had improved to the point where he could discern a beard on the
face of a person, that he could see the glasses worn by one of
the doctors reflecting the overhead lighting.
	His mouth opened slowly, and he felt himself moan.  The moan
trembled, and his eyes shifted from side to side, tears forming
and brimming over his eyelashes.  The tears continued to flow,
as he heard his own voice, deep and resonant.  He moaned again,
and then he wept, overjoyed and crying loudly when he heard
himself.  He felt a cool hand cover his forehead.  
	"We are very happy with your progress.  To help your voice
capacity, we have to run some tests, which will require a lot of
work from you and the therapist.  Okay?"	Mr. Tetley nodded
slowly, his eyes clearing and a smile appearing on his face. 
The two doctors departed from the room, and a nurse entered,
closing the door behind herself.  She walked up to Mr. Tetley
and tilted his bed towards a sitting position.
	"We can begin your speech therapy now" the nurse said
cheerfully.
	Mr. Tetley nodded, a look of wonder upon his face.

	Michael emerged from the home, lunch bag in hand.  A gust of
wind greeted him as he approached the tree that grew near the
southern face of the mansion.  He stopped for a moment, looking
up into the tree's thick branches.
	He continued his walk, rounding the rear of the home.  He saw
four patients sitting on the overlook, each of them motionless
and calm.  Clouds were moving towards shore, and he saw the
chaperone look up and notice the darkening sky.
	The McGill sisters were sitting next to each other, their heads
leaning symbolically towards each other.  Michael wondered what
they were thinking right now.  He knew that the Other was
probably communicating with an appreciable fraction of the
patients at Middleton.  Michael wished that he could tap into
their thoughts, their dreams, much like the Other, to learn
whether, right at that moment, they were communicating
telepathically with this miraculous creature.
	He continued past the overlook, his eyes following the still
forms of the wheelchair-bound women.  Ahead of him lay the
garden, and he could see Lynn sitting there, removing her lunch
from a paper bag.
	"Hi Lynn" Michael said.
	She looked up with a start.
	"Hi.  How was the morning?"
	"Okay.  How about yours?"
	"The same.  One of the patients made a mess in the parlor.  I
was there at the time, so I got to clean it up.  Other than
that, nothing unusual happened."
	"I talked with Charlie today about chartering or renting boats."
	Lynn sighed and eyed him suspiciously.
	"You're not going out there to try to find the thing.  You
know, I'm glad the water's too cold to swim, and I'm glad the
waves get so big that they would dash a person to pieces who's
crazy enough to meet that thing face to face."
	"I guess we just disagree on this."
	"You're damn right we disagree."
	Lynn looked worriedly at the ground.
	"All right, let's not talk about it now.  I'm sorry."
	They grew quiet for a while, each of them eating the sandwiches
that Lynn had made earlier that morning.  Michael grew tired of
the silence after a while.
	"I really believe that the Other is a good thing, not a bad
one.  Yet, at the same time, I know you're being more cautious
then me, and that's okay.  Thank you for that caution, and for
caring about me also."
	Lynn smiled and ran her hand back through her hair.
	"You're welcome.  I just think that the Other, as you call it,
may be good for some people and bad for others.  It's not that I
think it would try to kill you."
	"How do you know it's a good thing for the patients here at
Middleton?  Should we tell the head doctors what we think lives
out there?"
	"No way" Lynn replied adamantly.  "We'd probably both lose our
jobs, since we'd look like crackpots.  I think my theory is
right, though."
	"What do you mean?"
	"I said earlier that I thought the Other could communicate
readily with the patients as a result of their age, the dullness
of their senses.  Our minds, being young and flooded with
sensory input, cannot hope to hear the Other's subtle call."
	"Yes, I believe that.  And that's why I think it's good for
them, because it involves an activity, a communication, probably
even a friendship.  Look, that one woman was sad when she
couldn't contact the Other, because of the bad weather outside."
	"Maybe you're right.  But we also know that the closer we get
to the Other, the more powerfully it can communicate with our
minds.  What would happen if, instead of being a thousand feet
away, we were one foot away?  Even if the Other has good
intentions, it might accidentally harm us.  Promise me you won't
try to go out there and find it."
	"How can I promise you that?"
	"Just do."
	Michael looked away from her, shaking his head slowly.
	"All right, at least for now.  If I change my mind, I'll
discuss it with you first."
	"Fair enough" Lynn said, shaking his hand to seal the agreement.

	He heard a strange sound, like the distant crash of a wave, a
foaming sound conducted through many layers of water.  It was
not a breaking wave, however, that met his ears, since the sound
continued on, long after a wave would have broken on the shore. 
The foaming was constant, and it slowly increased in intensity.
	Looking upward, he saw the light from beyond the great barrier
had dimmed, and that the boundary was completely fuzzy.  The
clearly outlined kinks of light were being viewed through a
filter, like a piece of frosted glass.  He rose slowly, feeling
the warm layer near the boundary become colder.
	Deep, sonorous rumbles rolled through the depths, and he
turned, trying to discern the point of origin of the sound. 
Flickers of greenish light penetrated to the bottom, followed by
more rumbling.  Suddenly, there was a particularly bright flash
of energy, and he felt a tingling sensation, coursing in a
fraction of a second over his entire body.
	Distressed by this feeling, he descended, until he felt the
water grow still and cold.  In times like this, he always
remained near the bottom, distancing himself as far as possible
from the forces that beckoned from beyond the great barrier. 
The others were far away, and he missed the time apart from them.
	They were his reason for being there.  He had nearly forgotten
how long he had lived here, amongst the stone trees and the
deep, cold waters.  He had remembered a time, very long ago,
when he had moved through warmer waters, which had nearly driven
him mad.  He had traveled through the warm currents from waters
colder than those in which he now swam, so far away he knew he
would never see them again.  The migration into warmer waters
had been a mistake.  Then, like a child running roughshod over a
hot beach, single-mindedly aiming for the refreshing coolness of
the ocean's water, so he had streamed onward, propelling himself
for a very long time, until the current had cooled slightly.  
After a while longer, he had reached the end of the world, where
the stone forest rose and then surfaced beyond the great
barrier.  There he had stopped, resting until those faraway
voices had touched his psychic antennae.  As he remembered his
past, he saw another flash of brilliance, and he knew that, this
time, he was safe.

	Mr. Tetley's voice became noticeably clearer each day.  The
speech therapist was amazed at his progress, and his first trial
exam, by an independent group of physicians who were heading the
drug experimentation, declared his progress as phenomenal.  The
same dosage of the drug would be used for another month,
whereupon a second exam would be performed.     
	He was forming complete sentences, his words now clear enough
for some of the patients at Middleton to hear and answer.  Nurse
Emswiller had wheeled him into the parlor, where he had been
able to watch television.  After catching the latest world
headlines on CNN, the nurse came for him, taking him for an
appointment with one of the staff psychologists, Dr. Muldon.
	Mr. Tetley admired the office as the nurse wheeled him inside. 
Looking up, his eyes focused upon the calm expression of Dr.
Muldon, leaning back in an ornately upholstered leather desk
chair.
	"Hello, Mr. Tetley.  I'm glad we're getting to talk today."
	"Hello, Doctor" Mr. Tetley said slowly, and he smiled.
	"The new drug treatment is making you much better, and I'm very
glad the other doctors decided to continue the treatments.  In
the meantime, however, I am going to be tracking you carefully,
from a psychological perspective, to ensure that the drug is not
causing you any mental pain.  The other doctors could tell
whether the medicine was causing you physical pain.  Do you
understand?"
	"Yes" Mr. Tetley replied.
	"Are you happy with your progress?"
	The nurse left the office, closing the door behind herself.
	"Yes, I'm very happy.  I can see again, and my hearing is
better.  And I can talk."
	"Amazing, isn't it?  It's the most wonderful thing in the
world, that you are getting healthier.  There's nothing more
satisfying for your doctors and nurses than to see your
recovery."
	The psychologist removed a small pocket recorder from his desk
and pressed the record button.
	"How have you been sleeping lately?  Any problems there at all?"
	"No.  None at all" Mr. Tetley replied slowly.  "No nightmares
either."
	"Excellent.  And have you felt sad or depressed at all?"
	"I'm so happy that I'll be able to see my own son again, with
my own eyes.  I miss my other friend, though."
	The psychologist looked puzzled.
	"Other friend?"
	"Yeah, from the sea."
	The old man's face relaxed, and his clouded eyes showed
sadness.  The doctor's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward with
great interest.
	"When did you meet him?"
	"Years ago... I don't remember when."
	"Does he visit you?"
	"Out on the porch, by the ocean, he speaks in my dreams."
	"Your dreams?"
	"He takes me to the past, when I was a boy.  I miss him now."
	The psychologist removed his glasses and placed his forehead in
his hands.
	"The medication" he said to himself.  "I'll have to meet with
the doctors as soon as possible."

	Near the end of the day, Lynn returned to her desk.  One of the
things she liked about Middleton was the respect paid to the
nursing staff.  Two large rooms in the newer section of the home
were filled with recently constructed offices.  She had her own
desk and bookshelf, on which she kept her textbooks.  She kept
her purse there, and her coat, when the weather was cold enough.
Her cubby was her private place at Middleton, somewhere she
could go, during her lunch break, or at either side of the work
day, to relax, read, and just be alone.  
	Grabbing her purse from atop the desk, she removed her car keys
and proceeded to the exit to the nurse's office. Just down the
hall, she could hear Doctor Muldon finishing up for the day,
reading his usual dictation into a tape recorder, for his
secretary to later transcribe onto the computer for future
reference.
	She closed the office door and began walking down the hallway,
drawing nearer to the psychologist's open office.  Light shone
from the office onto the hallway floor.
	"Walter Tetley" she heard him say "seems to be suffering from a
mental delusion.  I fear it may be the result of the
experimental medication being administered by his neurologist."
	As she passed by the door, his voice became crystal clear.
	"He has delusions of being visited by a person who lives in the
sea, underwater.  Further examination will continue tomorrow."
	Lynn stopped in her tracks, hearing the car keys jingling in
her pocket as she did so.
	"Our fears that the medication could be inducing hallucinations
and delusions may unfortunately be well founded.  If so, this
would halt all further use of the drug until further notice."
	"Mr. Tetley" she thought.  "He's experiencing the presence of
the Other."
	She heard the frustration in Dr. Muldon's voice, and she
recognized the genuine disappointment as he spoke.  The new drug
offered so much promise, and Mr. Tetley had become the talk of
the home, due to his dramatic and rapid improvement under the
treatment plan.
	"I can't let them stop testing the drug" she thought. "I have
to tell Dr. Muldon that Mr. Tetley isn't experiencing a
delusion.  What he describes actually happened."
	She felt her heart pounding in her chest, as she reacted
reflexively.  She decided to confront the doctor now, before she
had the time to think things over and back down, allowing Mr.
Tetley to be taken off the drug.  She knew that she wasn't doing
this only for Mr. Tetley, but for all of the patients involved
in the drug's experimental program.
	Turning on her heels, she walked the several steps back to Dr.
Muldon's office door.  He was sitting at his desk, jotting
something down on a paper tablet.  Sensing her presence, Muldon
looked up at her.
	"Hi Lynn.  How are things?"
	"Not that good.  Can I talk with you?"
	"Well, I was just getting ready to head for the door, but sure,
come in."
	She walked into the brightly lit office.  Sitting down in a
chair across the desk from Muldon, she stared him in the eye.
	"I overheard you talking about Mr. Tetley.  You can't stop the
medication.  Trust me."
	"Then you don't know about his delusions."
	"They aren't delusions.  Let me be completely up front with you
on this.  This friend in the sea that he speaks of -- it's real.
There is some creature, living offshore, that has the ability
to communicate with at least some of the patients."
	The doctor's face went pale with surprise.  He leaned back into
his chair.
	"Real?  How can you say such a preposterous thing?"
	"I myself have been contacted by this creature, one I call the
Other."
	"The Other?"  She could see the shock that had taken Muldon's
mind like a whirlwind.
	"Yes.  I was down on the beach, just below the home, this past
weekend.  I was there with my daughter and a friend of mine.  We
all fell asleep there, and something amazing happened.  The
three of us experienced the same dream.  We kept each of our
identities, but we were playing part in some fantasy, some
common vision provided by the Other.  Before you have me fired
and then committed, please hear me out.  You know I don't work
with Mr. Tetley, so how could I have planted these thoughts into
his mind, or convinced him to tell you about any of this?
	"Anyway, the Other is some creature that lives just offshore. 
I've never seen it, but I know now that it communicates
telepathically with many of our patients.  You have to be close
to the creature, however, for the communication to be
established.  That's why the Other only contacts the patients
when they're taken out onto the overlook.  That's when they're
closest to the sea."
	"If what you say is true, then why haven't I or the other staff
ever been contacted?  Many of the nurses spend time as
chaperones, even during lunch hour, on the overlook."
	"The Other could contact me only when I was asleep.  I think
that, for a healthy person, the mind is too loud, too noisy to
be contacted.  Our eyes and ears provide a flood of information
that keeps our mind busy.  So, you and I have our own thoughts,
as well as the input from our senses.  But what about many of
the patients here?  Many are blind and deaf, so that they have
much less sensory input.  As a result, they have only their own
thoughts.  Their minds are quiet and receptive to outside
influences, telepathic ones, I mean.
	"As a normal person, I had to be asleep, as well as very close
to the Other, to allow it to contact me.  I was on the beach,
and nearly at the water's edge, when it happened."
	"Who is your friend that you speak of?"
	"I'd rather not say, at least not now.  At first I was
skeptical about the experience that we shared.  After a time,
though, I have come to realize that what we experienced was
real.  Since then, I've heard patients here saying things that
hinted of communications that they have had with the Other."
	Muldon sat there for a while, without saying a word.
	"I realize" she continued, "that I may have compromised my job
security here at Middleton, but I know that Walter Tetley must
remain on the medication.  The experiences he has had are not
delusions.  So the drug isn't responsible."
	"How can I possibly believe you?"
	"I've told you a lot already.  You haven't had me taken away in
a straight jacket yet, and something tells me that you haven't
yet completely discounted what I've said.  I think that you know
something about this."
	The psychologist stared at her, his eyes concealing laughter. 
He kept his gaze fixed, and she knew that there was something he
wanted to tell her.  He was afraid to talk, that much was
evident.
	"What ... do you know?"
	"I think I can trust you" he replied.  "I don't know much. 
I've just had several other patients who have made similar
claims to those of yourself and Tetley.  Nobody has given me
very in-depth descriptions, with the exception of yourself, and
I want to know more."
	"I'd be happy to be more specific" she said.
	"But don't get me wrong.  I still don't believe you.  Face it
-- you're the only non-patient who has  made these claims.  For
all I know, you're planting these ideas in their heads."
	Her face flushed with anger.
	"Why the Hell would I do that?"
	"I don't know.  You'll just have to prove your case to me,
that's all."
	Lynn set the glass on the coffee table loudly, causing Michael
to jump.  He folded down the edge of the newspaper page and
watched her.
	"So how can we prove it to him?"
	"I don't know.  But I have the impression that I'll be looking
for a new job."
	Michael let the paper fall onto his knees.
	"I guess we'll just have to take the guy with us next time."
	"Where?" Lynn asked rhetorically.
	"To the base of the cliff, where else?  I'm wondering if I
should go along, though.  For the time being, he probably
doesn't know that I'm your partner in crime."
	"You're right, that he has to experience the Other's presence
first hand.  As to whether you want to come along, that's up to
you.  I'm worried that he thinks I'm crazy, that I put all the
ideas of the Other into the heads of the patients at Middleton. 
Will he trust me?  Maybe he thinks I'm disturbed, that when he
falls asleep to communicate with the Other, I'll club him and
toss him into the ocean, to save my job."
	"Wait a minute.  Calm down, reality check, Lynn."
	He eased her down to the couch and sat down next to her.
	"I wouldn't jump to those kinds of conclusions.  He's known you
at the home for years now, and I'm sure he has a lot of respect
for you.  Don't be so pessimistic."
	"Maybe you're right."  She stared blankly to the trees beyond
the porch.  "Will you come along?"
	"I think I should.  Is that okay with you?"
	He saw the relief on her face.
	"I hope that the Other can contact Muldon, though.  What if he
falls asleep and wakes up with nothing unusual having happened. 
There's no guarantee the Other will establish contact.  Perhaps
it can only contact certain types of people.  Maybe it will
sense hostility from him and be afraid.  Who knows?  We can only
give this our best shot.  If it falls through, maybe then we'll
both be looking for new jobs."

	They continued their descent along the cliff, Dr. Muldon
proceeding between Lynn and Michael.  Lynn held Carol Ann's
hand.   Her daughter was unusually quiet this morning, as she
had never before met Dr. Muldon.
	The skies were very gray today, the sun appearing merely as a
fuzzy patch of light behind layer after layer of cloud.  Cool
breezes moved off the ocean, and they were glad that they had
worn jackets.  They said little, descending on the path as
thoughts churned independently within each of their minds.
	Lynn was frightened and anxious.  She was worried about their
safety in contacting the Other.  Second, she prayed that Muldon
would feel the Other's presence for himself.  Then, he would
believe her story, she would keep her job, and Muldon would not
create problems for Mr. Tetley. 
	"I never knew how to get down here, though I've seen fishermen
down here, from the overlook."
	"Carol Ann and I have been coming here for some time now. It's
a great place to relax and get away from everything.  How could
I have known what we would experience here?"
	"Do you fear this Other, like Lynn?"
	"No" Michael replied.  "It's not a matter of bravery.  I
somehow just feel that it's good, not evil.  I don't think Lynn
is convinced either way yet, so she's being cautious."
	Soon, they reached the small clearing, and they spread their
blanket there.  Sitting down, they looked at each other,
somewhat embarrassed as to what they should do next.
	"The last time" Lynn said, "we just fell asleep, and the Other
communicated with all of us, at the same time."
	"Perhaps we should do just that" Muldon said.
	"Be honest with me, Dr. Muldon" Michael asked.  "Do you really
believe our story, or are you merely humoring us?"
	"I believe that some incredible psychic event is occurring
here.  It remains to be seen, however, as to whether this event
is externally caused, or whether you are merely producing an
event between your two minds.  In that case, the common
experience you described would not involve the existence of this
Other."
	Lynn lay down on one edge of the blanket, and Carol Ann sat
down next to her.  Michael lay on the opposite edge of the
blanket.  Muldon  sat in a patch of sand just off the edge of
the blanket.  He had brought a small  but overstuffed pillow for
himself.  He propped his head on the pillow, against a mound of
sand and grass.  The doctor had brought along a portable,
battery-powered EEG machine, and he reminded Lynn that he needed
help attaching the wires to his head.  Getting up, she helped
him to ready the device.  Using the conducting paste, she
fastened numerous sensor patches to various positions on his
head, including one spot beneath each earlobe.  Soon, all three
of them were lying quietly on the blanket, slowly falling
asleep.  At first, Lynn didn't even feel drowsy, due to her
nervousness about the whole matter of the Other and Dr. Muldon. 
After a time, however, her eyelids grew heavy, and she joined
Michael and Dr. Muldon in the realm of sleep.  Carol Ann, not
feeling the least bit sleepy, watched over the three adults.

	Michael opened his eyes.  He was standing in the middle of a
giant field. Grass was blowing in the wind, tickling his bare
feet as he watched the clouds moving overhead.  He noticed that
he was very short.  As he looked at himself, he saw that he was
just a little boy, less than four feet tall.
	The sky was bright and cloudless, and deep blue extended from
the rim of the blinding sun to the horizon.  He inhaled and
smelled the fresh grass and flower pollen.  As he looked again
to the ground, he saw small dandelions, visibly growing higher
from amidst the blades of green grass.  As the dandelions
continued to grow, their yellow faces unfurled, and millions of
brilliantly colored fronds of gold appeared.
	The dandelions continued to age rapidly, and the flowers soon
went to seed, rising with the wind in flight.  Millions of seeds
floated by him, tickling his bare chest and his legs as he stood
in the field, facing the sun.
	It felt so good to be young again.  He was small enough to run
and jump and play and not feel like a zombie at the day's end. 
He took off, running as quickly as he could across the field. 
Then he felt worried.  His mind struggled through the beautiful
scenery, trying to remember something very important.
	At last he recalled it.
	"Please!" he shouted in a young boy's voice into the sky. 
"Please let me be with my friends!  Let us dream this together!"
	Then he spread his arms and rose into the air, soon soaring
above the clouds of dandelion seeds, borne like miniature kites
on the wind.  As he rose, he gained speed, and soon he thought
himself an airplane.  He was high in the air, and the huge field
was spread out before him.
	Straight ahead and slightly below him, he saw someone else
flying with outstretched arms.  As he continued forward, the
other spiraled up towards him.  Michael looked away from the
other for a moment, to behold the clouds that had appeared
overhead.  The next thing he knew, someone was flying next to
him.  It was Lynn, wearing a long, flowing dress.  Her right
hand clenched the handles of a large suitcase.
	"Get rid of that thing!" Michael shouted.  Lynn looked to the
suitcase and grinned.  She shook the briefcase free of her hand,
and it tumbled down toward the ground.  She forgot it, and they
continued to fly, their outstretched palms nearly touching. 
	They laughed together, squinting their eyes in the rushing
wind.  Birds were now joining them in their trek.  They
fluttered about them in midair, being much more graceful than
these two airborne humans.
	Lynn and Michael felt their speed decreasing, and Michael
discerned that they were dropping in altitude.  Soon, the field
was just below them, and they each touched down on the ground
next to one another.  As their feet met the grass, they ran as
quickly as they could, slowing down and then finally falling
upon the grass in their exhaustion.
	As their breathing slowed, they cleared the hair from their
eyes.  Michael blinked, and then he was awake.  He raised
himself to his elbows and saw that Lynn and Dr. Muldon were
still asleep.  He sat up and watched the waves rolling in toward
shore.  Looking at his watch, he saw that he had been asleep for
about a half hour.
	Lying back down, he felt exhilarated by the experience.  As his
mind returned to reality, he knew that they had again shared a
dream.  But Muldon had not joined them in their dream.  Only
Lynn had soared with him through the sky.  His heart sank as he
knew that the psychologist would probably awaken with no
perception of having shared a common experience with them. 
Feeling that he had failed, Michael looked around, his eyes
squinting in the bright sun.
	He looked about for Carol Ann.  His heart jumped when he saw
her climbing up the face of a large slab of wet, gray stone. 
Her hands reached higher, grasping the top edge of the great
chunk of weather-beaten rock.
	"Carol Ann!" he shouted.
	And then, in a sudden gust of wind, a huge wave came rumbling
toward the rocks.  He stood, his foot nearly stepping on Lynn's
hand.  She had been stirred by his shouting, and she was
returning to wakefulness as quickly as possible, her eyes still
bleary.
	Michael watched the wall of water approach in slow motion.  He
sprang towards her.  She was still about four yards away,
pulling herself ever closer to the mist-laden rocks.  Michael
watched the wall of water crest, then tumble downward as
countless tons of frigid water fell with the force of gravity. 
The curl vanished below the lip of the rock, and then all he saw
was the smooth roll of water, sculpted salt-foam toiling into the land.
	Carol Ann had frozen with fear, her eyes wide with terror. 
Then there was a huge thud, as the wave slammed the rocks
beneath them.  The sun was blocked out, as the ricocheting wave
exploded into the sky, hurling its innards up and over the wall
of rock.  Michael saw the water enveloping the frozen toddler. 
She instantly lost her grip.  As she slid downward, Carol Ann
followed the contour of the rock.  Instead of returning to
Michael's outstretched arms, she slid off to the side, as the
slab of stone was inclined to the horizontal.  She disappeared
from view, screaming her lungs out as she fell into the swirling
waters below.
	Lynn and Michael climbed the rock together, both of them soaked
by the wave that had sent its remnants over the entire clearing
behind them.  Muldon was also awake, spitting mouthfuls of water
and choking for air. 
	"Nooooo!" Lynn shrieked.
	Michael placed his hands on her shoulders, frantically trying
to use her as leverage to reach the top of the rock and then
dive in to rescue her.  Behind both of them, Muldon struggled
with his wire-framed glasses, trying to see what all the
commotion was about.  Another immense wave roared into shore,
and the resulting splash knocked Lynn back from the edge of the
rock, as she had only secured one hand as an anchor.  Michael
shook the water from his face and peered down into the swirling
dark waters.
	His heart was in his throat, and he felt a coldness in his
heart, as he watched the water down there, gurgling in and
amongst a hundred rocks.  The seaweed and foam that spun in
dizzy circles at the base of the rock wall hampered visibility.
	"She's gone" he realized.  Another wave broke, and he saw no
sign of her amidst the wall of foam that slowly dissipated. 
Behind himself, he heard Lynn still screaming at the top of her
lungs.
	"My God" he heard Muldon say.

	The Other moved further along the shore, approaching the rocks
just below the overlook.  It had communicated with Michael
again, and now it knew his name.  He had called to him, forcing
open a portal of his own, toward the Other,  The Other had
responded, for the first time to the thoughts of another, of one
in distress.  He had recognized the voice of the one beyond the
great barrier, instantly retuning his power to funnel the
thoughts, to merge with the consciousness of his friend.
	Soon, he had drawn close enough to feel the reflected currents
from the rocks, where waves had spent their fury and were now
returning with much of their original energy, to collide head on
with another incoming wall of water.  As he jostled in the
current, he breathed outward, decreasing his buoyancy and the
surface area of his body.  As his body stabilized in the
current, he felt a jab, like a pin, entering his mind.
	The sensation was unpleasant, even painful.  Shaking himself to
full awareness, he reached out, and then he felt Michael again,
and the woman.  Their minds exuded a new energy, like that from
the feeble-minded fish as they were being gobbled up by a
predator.  He recognized the emotion as fear, but a fear beyond
any he remembered.
	Moving toward shore, he sensed another spark of awareness, but
it was far below the others, at his own level, beneath the great
barrier.  Knives of thought now punctured his thoughts, sending
him reeling.  He tried to spread his mental web and fully
contact Michael, beyond the barrier, but the human was more
storm tossed than the ocean.  Instead, he focused on the
pinpoint of mental energy, rising and falling with the waves. 
It was descending into the depths somewhere closer to shore.
	With all of his energy, he heaved his body forward and
downward, the rush of foam and the thuds of the waves now
pounding his ears.  A sudden downrush of current pushed him
towards the bottom, and he moved with the flow, feeling the
struggling flame of what life remained grow warmer.

	Michael scrambled down the stone slab and ran across the
clearing.  Muldon followed him, leaving behind Lynn, who was
shouting for help towards the balcony.  Amazingly, the nurse on
duty heard her cries, as she appeared near the fence that
overlooked the cliff.
	"Get help!" she screamed as she waved her hands.  "My daughter
is drowning!"
	The nurse disappeared from view, and Lynn fell back onto the
ground, turning to see where Michael and Dr. Muldon had gone. 
They were on the opposite side of the clearing, kneeling atop a
pile of rocks.  She climbed towards them, across the clearing
which was now filled with almost a foot of ice-cold water.  She
held her hand to her mouth when she saw Carol Ann's doll,
floating calmly in the water.  She sloshed through the water and
up the ensuing wall of rocks.
	"Maybe I can reach her down through here" he was saying.  "By
the way this water upwells and sinks, it must lead to the open
sea only a few yards away.  Otherwise, those waves ..."
	Muldon nodded, just as the water upwelled several feet,
brimming near the top of the stone wall.  Then, just as quickly,
the water sank back down, carrying with it bits of seaweed,
which tumbled and twisted as they disappeared into the murky
water.  No one knew how far underwater the tunnel merged with
the ocean.
	Lynn watched them, tears streaming from her eyes, as she waited
for Michael to dive in.  All she wanted was her daughter. 
Michael was safe for now, and she saw him as Carol Ann's only
hope.  She became angry, infuriated that he had not immediately
plunged to her rescue.
	Something was wrong.  Both men were frozen, like statues, their
heads dripping cold water that blew away in droplets on the
wind.  Looking behind herself, she saw the nurse again at the
balcony, waving to her.  She couldn't hear whatever she was
shouting above the roar of the waves.
	Then something touched her.  Spinning around, she saw Michael,
his eyes wide with amazement.  Muldon's gaze was invisible
behind his wet, fogged spectacles.  Her chest felt warm, and
soon the sensation spread throughout her entire body.  She felt
herself becoming dizzy, and her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. 
Struggling to maintain her consciousness, she jerked back, as
she felt a pressure, like something pushing in all directions
from the inside of her head, like a massive wave of pressure in
her sinuses.
	Hands reached out, strange hands, alien hands.  Her mind was
erased, like a chalkboard being blanked by the hand of a
teacher.  She no longer saw, or heard.  The ice-cold water and
the driving wind receded into oblivion as the hands reached into
her thoughts, far and deep.  Then an image stabilized in her
mind, overtaking every thought of her own.  There was green, and
daggers of light, growing nearer.  A small, warm creature,
hugged close to her belly, was rising skyward.  Her mind was now
one with the alien presence, and her body shook in unison with
the crashing waves.
	Then Lynn felt her arms and legs moving, as she climbed to the
top of the rocky ledge.  She perched between Muldon and Michael.
Then she felt herself rising suddenly, foam swirling about her
body, creating a wonderful tickling sensation.  A mound of
sun-sprinkled foam was now only feet away.
	From beneath the water, in the open circle between the black,
wet rocks, Michael saw the dim shadows of a body, which, in
another second, broke the surface.  He reached forth and grabbed
the unconscious form of Carol Ann, dragging her onto the rocks
before the water began to sink again.
	Muldon's eyes widened with terror as the Other's thoughts moved
through him, like the brilliant beam of a searchlight blazing
across him, the source of the radiant energy only several feet
away.  He saw another form in the water, which whispered forth
and extended a strange hand, a kind of flipper, into view, and
it slowly sank back into the depths below.  For a moment, there
was a flicker of light, and he thought he saw a bulbous, scarlet
head, a huge, shining eye, amidst the swirling currents. 
	"My God!" he said loudly, tears falling down his cheeks.  The
Other was now receding from him, and the warmth drained from his
body.  He reached into the water, struggling to grab onto
whatever had brought the young girl back to them.
	"Come back!" he pleaded.  "Come back!"  But the water sank
down, and the foam covered the surface once again, obscuring all
view of the depths below.  Muldon turned to see Michael
administering mouth to mouth resuscitation.  Looking to Lynn,
the girl's mother, he saw a smile on her face.  Both of them
knew that everything would be all right.  In another ten
minutes, the ambulance crew arrived, with not a minute to spare.

	Soon, he reached out, spreading a mental web across the waters
that moved up through the barrier and beyond.  The web
encompassed the thoughts of those who were confined.  He would
free them of their shackles, enabling them to fly in their
dreams, to be young again, to run free of their wheelchairs and
their pain.  Their need was his need, one that he fulfilled
through nourishing their desires, for returning them for a
glimpse of brighter, carefree days.

	Muldon finished the memo on his computer and committed it to
the laser printer.  As the device whirred to life and pulled in
the first sheet of blank paper, he saw Lynn appear in his
doorway.  Her face was filled with hopefulness as the sheet
scrolled out of the printer and into the paper catcher.  Muldon
reached down and gently picked up the sheet by the corner.  He
held the letter up to Lynn, who stepped forward and took the
sheet gingerly.
	As she read, she heard Dr. Muldon's words.
	"Psychological evaluation, in summary, was successful in
determining the positive mental impact of the medication on Mr.
Tetley's psychological condition.  I recommend that the
medication continue, since I believe that continued physical
improvement will be accompanied by continued improvement in the
patient's mental health."
	She smiled and handed the sheet silently back to Muldon, who
placed it onto his desk and signed the bottom with a fountain
pen.
	"I thought you might like to read that" he said at last.
	"And one more thing" she said with a whisper.
	"Yes?"
	"Let it go now.  Don't try to find it, to see it with your own
eyes.  I don't think the Other wants that."
	"I've been thinking a lot about that.  I myself have concluded
that capturing it for study is not only unlikely to succeed,
it's immoral.  On the other hand, I plan to continue my
communication with the Other, to learn more about it.  There's
an entirely new and exciting realm here to be explored.  I
refuse to give up on that."
	"I understand" Lynn replied.  "Michael feels the same way. 
Perhaps you two could engage in some collaborative work."
	"Yes, especially since I didn't get a full description of his
previous experiences.  One important thing here is the need for
secrecy.  The more people we tell about this, the greater the
potential that someone will try to capture the Other for study."
	"My lips are sealed" she said.  She left Muldon's door and went
to her desk.  Soon, she was outside the home, proceeding for her
shift as chaperone on the overlook.
	As she sat there, watching the patients about her, many of them
sleeping silently in their wheelchairs, she wondered how many of
them were communing with the Other, enabling him to bring back
the most pleasant memories.  Though Mr. Tetley's condition had
been improved by his medication, there were still many others
who would not be helped by the treatment.  For these patients,
ones without any hope of improvement, the Other would always be
there for them, an unconditional and unerring friend.
	For how many years in the future, he would continue to find
them, to communicate with them.  The identities of the minds
with which he merged would change, but there would always be
those who required him, who would open their minds to his
prodding, who would merge into psychic oneness.

	The Other reached forth, and he began to merge with dreams,
many dreams, all at once.  He continued until the fading of the
sun, when the water grew dark, when orange painted the great
kinks of light that moved on the face of the great barrier.  The
Other coasted offshore, into deeper waters, feeling the coolness
of the dark waters, swirling about him, comforting him.  There
would always be a tomorrow.  Sinking further, he found his
favorite place to rest, amid the fronds of sea plants, in an
alcove beneath a ledge of stone.

	The Other reached forth his arms and saw them, surprisingly
thin and delicate.  They stretched out and felt the cool water. 
His mother floated by, with other adults behind her.  His mind
was one with theirs, as they moved into deeper waters, the new
light piercing the great barrier and illuminating the way.
	He continued to meld with his mother, curious as to where she
had originated.  She was reticent to discuss these matters,
intent instead on the health and well-being in the here and now.
	At times, however, he would get a fleeting glimpse of her past,
one filled with adventure and then tragedy.  She always placed a
wall in her own psyche, to insulate him from the pain, the
torment, following the occurrences that had bound them to this
watery realm.
	He hoped that someday she would tell him the details of what
had happened -- the disaster that caused the death of her mate,
and his father.  For with that fleeting glimpse, he felt an
openness, one beyond the boundless waters through which they now
swam.
	Touching those memories with his immature mentality, he saw
himself moving, out amongst a void filled with points of
brilliance, in the center of which hung an orb of blue and
white.  He knew that his mother and others wanted to be free of
that orb, to rejoin the others of their kind, many others, who
moved through the void.

	The Other awakened, shifting his eyes in the darkness that had
settled upon the shallows.  He breathed bubbles into the water
and heard them moving away on the current.  He thought of his
mother.  Then, very slowly, he closed his eyes again and
returned to sleep.