She picked up her coloring book and stepped up onto the cushion of the reading nook that was nestled in between book cases going up to the ceiling. She peered out the window, resting her palm on one of the panes of glass. It was a rainy day, but the sort of calm, quiet, gentle rain that instills a deep sense of peacefulness and serenity. Drops of water were streaking down the glass, making the world outside a wavy reality. Other than the soft tapping of the rain, both inside and outside there was a peaceful quiet.
She kept staring at the outside for a while, as though deep in thought, carefully studying the old decaying barns and fields puddling up with water. There were no animals anymore, not for ages. But she could picture in her mind cows and maybe some goats chewing on the grass. Just chewing and chewing, looking neither here nor there, seemingly without a care in the world. Then, expressionless and looking forward, her gaze turned toward her coloring book. Sitting with her legs crossed, it was resting on her lap. She stared at the line drawings, again expressionless, for a time. She picked up a colored pencil, and began coloring in the drawings.
Ten pages later, still very focused and absorbed in her coloring, she thought she heard, “Cassandra? Cassandra?” Too immersed in what she was doing, she did not respond. She did not look up from her book, just stared intensely down, fiercely coloring and coloring. After five more pages the sound was closer, “Cassandra? Cassandra?” Her hand stopped with a jerk. She looked up, head still pointed down, now staring at the books on the bookshelves at her feet. She thought she heard something, but wasn’t sure, so her gaze turned back down toward the coloring book, and her hand started moving again. A few pages later, and the sound was right beside her. “Cassandra! I’ve been calling you! Didn’t you hear me?”
Startled, her head jerked up and turned in the direction of the voice. She now stared upwards. “Uh, I…no. I was coloring,” she replied.
“It is time for your meal,” the voice explained. The girl set aside her coloring book, laying it upon the cushion she was sitting on, keeping it open to the page she had not finished. She turned her body and dangled her legs over the side of the nook, then hopped onto the floor. They walked together to the family gathering room, and she sat down at the table.
“After I’m finished eating, can I go back to coloring?” Cassandra asked.
“No,” was the reply. “Your parents left instructions that you are to continue your studies during the day. When you have completed today’s lessons, then you may go back to coloring.”
“Oh,” Cassandra sullenly responded. Her meal was brought out to her, and she only nibbled at it slowly, not very hungry and in somewhat of a sedate mood. “But the rain is so nice. I just want to sit by the window and listen to it. It makes me feel good. Can I do my lessons next to the window?”
“Well, I know you are easily distracted. You would soon be staring out the window again, or go back to your coloring, and you will neglect your studies. So it is necessary you work in the study room. That is where your computer and all your school books are, and there are no distractions.”
Having an insatiable curiosity, Cassandra loved learning, but there were those days where her mind just couldn’t focus on it. Too often something would seem to pull her away, though what that was was never clear to those around her. It was never clear to her either. This was the reason she was home schooled. Even in an intellectual society, her intelligence stood out. Her gifts and sharp mind, though unique even for this world, weren’t the main problem in school. During class she would get pulled away too often. In the middle of a lesson or working on an assignment, she would suddenly stop. Her body would freeze, with a blank stare, at exactly the same spot her eyes were on at that moment, as though in a trance. She would be frozen like this for many minutes, even sometimes up to a half hour or an hour. During this time there was nothing anyone could do to bring her out of it. No voice, sound, touch, or even light shone in her eyes would get her attention and bring her back to awareness of the world around her. Then, in an instant, she would spring back to life and continue exactly where she left off, as though nothing at all had happened, and completely oblivious. It became too much for her teachers. They loved and admired Cassandra for her incredible mind as well as her sweetness - for she was a kind, friendly, and beautiful girl - but her trances made trying to teach her in a structured environment extremely difficult. They recommended her parents teach her at home, where they could better have her focus on lessons around those times when she was in another world.
Cassandra could never explain what was happening to her during those times. She herself had no real awareness of what she was experiencing. When asked, she could recall no sights, sounds, sensations, or feelings. She had a hard time believing that these episodes even happened at all. She thought people were just playing tricks on her. Psychologists and neurologists found absolutely nothing wrong with her in any way. It was also never clear to anyone what would trigger her trances. They seemed to happen at random times, no matter what she was doing or what was going on around her. Her parents thought they saw it happen more often when she was concentrating deeply on something of interest to her, but they couldn’t be sure if it happened only at those times or if they were just not noticing it when not paying attention to her. It would make progress on her schoolwork go more slowly, but her parents were patient with her, knowing her keen intellect more than made up for the interruptions these trances caused.
Cassandra kept poking at and nibbling away at her meal. She had eaten most of it, then looked up and said, “I’m not real hungry. Do you want to finish the rest? Oh, ha, that’s right, machines don’t eat.”
“Cassandra, now don’t be insensitive. You know I do not like being called a machine. I have too many human qualities, and in many ways, am even better than a human. If you do not wish to finish your food, go to the study room and begin your lessons.” Cassandra slid off her chair and skipped off to her study room.
Later in the evening Cassandra was back to the reading nook, busily coloring in her coloring book. The day was still gray, but the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. Her parents came home and checked in on her. “Hi sweety.” her mother said. “What did you do today? Did you finish all your lessons?”
“Yes, mommy.” she replied with a smile.
Her mother sat down on the cushion next to her and looked at the coloring book. “Oh, beautiful! You’re such a good artist!” she said as she gave Cassandra a peck on the head. Her mother was always quick with praise for everything she did.
Her father was about to go into the study room to check that she did finish her school work as she said. Usually, Cassandra’s school work would be completed, and done very well, even with the occasional interruption of one or more of her episodes. There were those days, though, like today, where she just wouldn’t be in the mood. “Daddy?” she said.
“Hmmm?” he queried as he turned his head back and stopped.
“When the rain stops, can we go out and get more coloring books?” she asks.
“You bet, honey.” he answered.
Cassandra and her father were walking through the downtown shops, looking to get some more coloring books. One of the shops had many art supplies, including for children, and Cassandra loved looking through that particular one. Her father would let her just roam around on her own, picking things off shelves and carefully studying them, some things with an intense stare and some with a big smile, then placing them back on their shelf or table after her curiosity was satisfied. Her parents encouraged her artistic side as much as they could, as they saw it as a good counterweight to her intense intellect. Her father was surprised at her preference for old-fashioned paper coloring books rather than digital paper. He and his wife did, however, collect old printed books. For they had a warmth and sensual pleasure that digital books just couldn’t match. It was something they cherished, and they filled their home with as many as they could find. Anything printed on paper these days is very rare, and paper books are mostly antiques. But Cassandra just happened to find stacks of these old coloring books last year, collecting dust and tucked toward the back of a shelf she was exploring. Upon picking one of them up and feeling the soft smoothness of the paper, leafing through it page by page, with line drawings of many different animals, people, and scenery that could be colored in, she stared at it with her usual intensity - not quite the usual trance she can fall into, but with an intense curiosity and sense of discovering something wonderful. Looking up, her eyes quickly darted back and forth at the other objects on the shelf next to the pile, where she spied boxes of coloring pencils too - just as much antiques as the books. She grabbed one of the boxes and stared at that with the same intensity. Holding a coloring book in one hand and a box of pencils in the other, her eyes went back and forth, looking quickly at one then the other, back and forth and back and forth. A light went on and a broad smile appeared upon her face. She ran to find her father, who was perusing elsewhere in the shop, held out the book and pencils, looked up at him with biggest smile and the widest beaming eyes that would melt any father’s heart, not saying a word; he knew exactly what to do.
Casually browsing through the shop, her father didn’t have much of an interest in what the shop carried, but he would walk around curiously to see what was there, while Cassandra made a bee-line for the coloring books and pencils. They were usually sitting in the same spot she always found them in, mostly untouched and ignored, since most people, including children, preferred digital paper to the antique kind. She grabbed a handful of each and meandered back through the shop, looking for her father. Her curious eyes and hands touched most things on the tables and shelves to examine them visually and tactilely, imprinting themselves and their sensory qualities in her memories to be drawn upon when her very inventive imagination played around with how they could be of use to her. Something new caught her attention much more than usual this time though. It was a small electronic piano keyboard, something that a child could set on a table, hook up to a computer, and play and compose their own music with. Cassandra hadn’t thought much about music at her age. Her head was mostly wrapped around schoolwork, or her drawing. Her parents did want to develop a musical side in her at some point to further broaden her mind, they just hadn’t gotten around to figuring out what kind of instrument would be best or how music lessons would go if she were to fall into one of her trances in the middle of playing. She turned to the keyboard, studying it with her usual intensity, running her hand back and forth lightly over the keys. It was the flexible type that rolled up and could be unrolled and placed on a surface when needed. Cassandra wasn’t the type of child that wanted to own something just because it looked fun at the moment, or to have a unique new toy just because it was unique. She was very purposeful in selecting her possessions. They had to have some practical use, something that was meaningful and filled a particular need. But something clicked in her. She did not know why, but something in her told her she needed this, that this was important. She grabbed one of the keyboards off the display table and brought it to her father. “Daddy, can I have this too?” she asked.
Taking the keyboard from her hand, turning it to examine it and musing over it, he said, “Huh. Your mother and I were wanting to have you learn music sometime soon anyway, so sure, this would be a good way for you to start.”
Back home, Cassandra lay her keyboard aside in her bedroom, but put the coloring books in her favorite place to color, the reading nook, laying them gently down on the cushion. That was the most pleasant and peaceful place in the house to her. Nestled away, with books on the shelves at the head and foot, and the large window in front, it gave her a sense of solitude and privacy, more so even than her bedroom. The window also gave her a view to a larger world, and when she looked out, she could get lost in her imagination, creating new worlds in her mind. She had an extremely active and amazing visual imagination.
It was getting late and time for bed. The servant, Evelyn, brought Cassandra her night clothes as she was undressing in her bedroom. Evelyn had been with the family since a little after Cassandra was born. Her parents had requisitioned a model they thought would have the most suitable personality to be a nanny to a child. The EVLN-7 versions were designed to have a more nurturing personality but also be responsible, obedient, and take care of a home. Not being too picky with names, they just called her Evelyn.
After breakfast Cassandra knew to go to her study room and work on her lessons. Rarely did Evelyn have to remind her of this, except for those days Cassandra was in one of her more sedate, lazy moods. Cassandra whipped through her math, and then was reading her social science lesson with much interest. Today the lesson was about extrasolar cultures, with some social psychology thrown in. At least during these few hours of concentration she did not get lost in another trance. But while she was filling in her worksheet, there came a nagging feeling. A feeling that something was beckoning to her. She looked up from her worksheet, looked around the room back and forth a few times, then just straight ahead. The feeling faded after a bit and she went back to finish her worksheet. It was though the sensation never even happened.
As was her usual routine lately, Cassandra went to her reading nook after she completed her lessons for the day. Sometimes she would select one of the old books on the shelves to read, or stare out the window and let her imagination run wild, or do her favorite thing which was to color in her coloring books, until her parents came home. She had just gotten new coloring books, so she was excited to use them. She had climbed up onto the cushion and was about to grab one of the books from the little stack she had set in the corner, but she had a change of heart and had the urge to look out the window instead. Nothing out of the ordinary was outside, although today it was more sunny and breezy than it had been the past few days. There were golden streaks of sunlight shooting through and around the clouds, and the grass in the fields and the trees in the distant woods were swaying back and forth. Cassandra became rapt, almost hypnotized, by the dance of nature, and as often happened, visions of both everyday and fantastical things would dance in her mind’s eye.
She had placed the little piano keyboard away in her bedroom when she and her father returned from the shop a while back, and being distracted by schoolwork and the other things she preferred to do, she had forgotten about it. Neither was there any of the nagging feeling that it was something she had to have when she saw it in the shop. But doing her schoolwork one afternoon, there was that inner sense again that something wanted her. She looked up, then studied the room carefully, having a vague haunting feeling that something or someone was in there with her. Then the feeling faded. And as though it never happened, she went back to her schoolwork. A few minutes later and her attention is grabbed again. Looking up, expressionless except for mouth agape, she studies the room again. Something wants her. But what? Who? The sensation is there but it’s not something she’s really conscious of. With no awareness that she’s actually walking, she leaves the study room and goes into her bedroom. She studies the room, turning her head up and down, left and right. She’s then drawn to a corner shelf, where she had set the keyboard. Something tells her that’s what she must have. She picks the keyboard up and goes back to her study room with it. Unrolling it on her table, she turns it on. Mechanically and unconsciously, she randomly hits keys. Daa, daa, duh, dum, dum, dum. On the next note, Cassandra freezes! She’s in one of her trances! But this time it was different. During her trances before she had no sensations of any sort, and had no awareness that anything unusual had even happened. This time she was aware. Everything went black for a moment, and then in her mind images started rushing toward her. They were ghostly, and all came and passed her so quickly. People, vehicles, buildings, landscapes, even celestial bodies and whole galaxies. No sounds, just images. They whooshed past her and then were gone as fast as they had appeared. These were things she had never seen in real life, and she had the momentary feeling that these things were not figments of her vivid imagination, but were in fact real.
The blackness was empty again, and all was quiet and peaceful, until a rush of emotion washed over her. Confusion and disorientation. Cassandra suddenly unfroze, and knew she was back in her study room, sitting at her table. As soon as she returned to reality, the sense of confusion and disorientation vanished along with the blackness. This time she was conscious that she experienced something unusual, but did not know what. She had no memory of any specific images or feelings, just a vague impression that she had been elsewhere. Her eyes darted quickly around the room, her head turning this way and that. But all was quiet, and all was as it was. Maybe it was nothing, she thought, and her attention turned back to her books. But what did confuse her was why the keyboard was sitting right in front of her. She didn’t remember putting it there, and it only then dawned on her that she had gotten it from the shop, set it in her bedroom, and had forgotten all about it. But that was odd. When did she put it on her table? She pushed it aside and went back to her schoolwork.
Always taking school seriously, Cassandra often worked feverishly for most of the day. Her parents lay out a strict schedule of readings and assignments for her to accomplish each day, based on recommendations from her teacher. When finished, she would feel worn out, and Evelyn would bring her a glass of juice and treats to replenish her energy. But today she felt particularly drained, as though she had been outside all day playing, on top of spending a whole day studying. She dragged herself out of her study room and to the table in the family gathering room and called for Evelyn. Evelyn brought out her usual juice and treats, which Cassandra slowly and listlessly sipped and nibbled. Evelyn noticed a difference in her today compared to most days. Evelyn asked, “Are you feeling unwell? I notice a much more weary appearance in your face and mannerisms than usual.”
“I don’t know,” Cassandra replies. “I’m just so tired.”
“Well, then you should go to your bed and sleep,” Evelyn suggests to her. But Cassandra’s habit was to go to the reading nook after lessons, so although her intention was to listen to Evelyn and go to bed, reflexively, and sluggishly, she headed to the reading nook. Evelyn noticed and remarked, “Cassandra, you are not going to your bedroom!” But Cassandra was too drowsy to hear her and just kept shuffling to the nook. She bent forward and plopped her torso down on the cushion, then lifted her right leg up onto it, then her left leg. She just lay there, very drowsy but not able to fall asleep.
After a while some energy returned to Cassandra, but she still felt drained. Too weary to even color. Lying flat and legs straight out on the cushion, she slowly turned her body. She turned toward the window, then turned away from the window. Her eyes drowsily closed, but sleep did not come to her. Her body twisted, and legs followed, now facing the window again. Eyelids cracked open a sliver, and then halfway, giving her a bleary view through the window. Staring out the window was her way of letting her imagination loose. But what she saw this time was very different, and very more real, than anything she had visualized before. It was faces. It was worlds. It was the past and it was the future.
Cassandra sat up with a start! Her head spun around, looking right, looking left, looking up, looking down! Nothing there! She pressed her hands and face against the window. Where are they!? What are they!? Who are they!? Anxiety, confusion, fear, poured through her! She ran outside, looking for those visions that could have been standing right in front of her. Anxious and disoriented, her heart was racing, her head was spinning, and with mouth wide open and quick breath she frantically gazed to and fro, up and down, scanning the distance for any sign of the visions. But all was quiet.
Unable to shake the feeling she was not just imagining things, Cassandra darted back into the house. Water was welling up in her eyes. “Mom! Dad!” she shouted.
Evelyn walks into the room. “Cassandra, you are aware that your parents are not at home this time of day.” Noticing her expression, Evelyn remarks, “You look upset. Is something the matter, Cassandra?”
“Did you see them!? Where’d they go!?” Cassandra anxiously queries Evelyn.
“Where did who go?” asks Evelyn, “We have not had any visitors all day.”
“People. There were people!” Cassandra insists. She continues, “I was here, and there were other people…then I was not hear, and there were more people…then I was here again!”
Evelyn sensed great confusion in Cassandra. “Cassandra, calm down. You know you have a vivid imagination. You are just letting it run wild and it’s getting the best of you.”
Cassandra stood there, tense and flustered. She couldn’t accept that what she experienced was not real. “I’m not imagining things!” she insisted to Evelyn, with tears rolling down her cheeks. But the excitement was starting to exhaust her. After a few minutes, the tension in her body, along with confusion and fear, began to fade.
“Here,” Evelyn says as she takes Cassandra by the hand. “I can see this agitation has made you weary. A nap will do you good. That’s what you should have been doing in your bedroom in the first place.” Evelyn brings Cassandra to her bedroom and puts her to bed. Cassandra, feeling very listless, plops down on her bed and Evelyn covers her with the blanket. Eyes soon blink shut and she is fast asleep.
But the serenity of sleep does not last long. Cassandra soon falls into a dream state that is less like a dream and more like an out-of-body experience. She sees herself floating in absolute blackness. Then faint sounds of people chatting, of the tapping of footsteps, and of the murmur of crowds echo softly in the distance. In turn, faint ghostly images of unfamiliar figures appear. Some are walking towards her from far away, some are walking here and there, some are walking away from her. Some seem human, some appear like creatures she’s never seen nor even imagined before. But they are all oblivious to her presence. Now those images fade into the blackness, and as they slowly diminish, new images of new people and creatures fade in. As ghostly as before, they seem to go on their merry way in all directions as well. These images fade in turn. And as soon as they do, her mind is taking her elsewhere. Dozens of tiny points of light, blurry and dim and undulating like stars, all come from one remote point and streak quickly towards her, dissolving into oblivion as they pass. Ethereal specters of what seem like solar systems appear and rush past, and suddenly she’s falling through the atmosphere of a planet. The planet rushes away from her, and yet again she’s traveling somewhere else as more streaks of light hurtle by. Cassandra is now a disembodied figure standing on a new world, an observer of indistinct, nebulous creatures and places totally unknown to her, and which are totally unaware of her as well. She is on the move again, as she flies through the body of the planet in an instant to and out the other side, back into the blackness. Again, dozens of points of light speed past her, but at an even more furious pace, and disappear almost as quickly as they appeared. The dark empty void again. And ghostly figures again. They perform the same dance as before, ambling here and there, receding into the darkness as they go. A new figure comes into view, seemingly pacing across the void as the others, with the tapping of footsteps accompanying it. But midway, it turns its head in her direction, seeming to look straight at her. This apparition is as ghostly as the others, but Cassandra feels she can make out some features. The shadowy outlines of a face, of eyes, and of a mouth; of wisps of hair, and billowing robes on the body. It gives the impression of a male figure. She’s gazing at him, and he’s returning the gaze, as though he knows she’s there. And as a fog evaporates as the morning warms, the figure dissolves into the blackness.
It is the next morning and Cassandra has gotten a good rest. She knew she had a dream, but could not remember any of what she dreamt. Dressed in her nightgown, she shuffles into the family gathering room. Mom and dad came in and joined her at the table. Evelyn brought in their morning meals. Dad asked, “Did you sleep well, Cassandra? Evelyn told us you seemed irritable and over-tired yesterday, and put you to bed early.”
“Oh, I’m fine dad,” she replied. Cassandra’s mind was wandering onto new things, and what she wanted to do for the day, so events of yesterday became more of a blur and of little concern.
“Well, maybe later we can go to the shops again and look around,” he says to Cassandra. She looks up at him with her beaming smile of approval, because that was one of her favorite ways to spend time with her father, especially if it meant buying more coloring books.
Her mother and father were home today on their day off from the university. Cassandra also was allowed to have her play time instead of having lessons this day. And of course, she busies herself with her coloring books in the reading nook. Focused on her coloring, she is unaware of the melody of the doorbell. Evelyn answers the door, and standing there was a rather distinguished-looking older gentleman. “Good-day,” he greets Evelyn.
“Good-day, sir,” she replies.
“May I speak with Mr. and Mrs. Halloway?” the gentleman asks. Cassandra’s parents hear that someone is at the door and look at each other a bit puzzled. They are somewhat removed from their neighbors and rarely have visitors. But they come to the door to greet whomever it may be.
“Yes? Hello,” Mrs. Halloway greets the visitor.
“Good-day Mr. and Mrs. Halloway. I was sent here by Cassandra’s teacher. My name is Ganesh,” says the gentleman, greeting both of them. “May I come in?”
“Umm, OK. Please,” Cassandra’s mother replies and gestures him in.
“Her teacher sent you?” Cassandra’s father asks.
“Yes. I had heard talk of Cassandra’s unusual trances she is prone to in school. You see, I have worked with many children who experience these behaviors, and am Head Master of an organization that helps young people better cope with and control their so-called ‘trance’ episodes. Upon learning that it was at school she had often suffered these episodes, I went to see her teacher, explained that I may be able to help the girl, and to ask if I may see her. The teacher explained that because of Cassandra’s difficulties in a classroom setting, she was home schooled, and instructed how I might find her. That is a common situation with such children,” Ganesh explains.
“Are you a doctor? A psychiatrist?” Cassandra’s mother asks.
“Not I,” responds Ganesh. “But since time immemorial I have worked with and mentored children who experience these states of consciousness. If indeed Cassandra has the same abilities, it is necessary for her to learn how to adapt to and control their expression. If a child does not learn these skills, they may face a life of torment and delusion.”
“States of consciousness? All we see is she freezes up suddenly, seems lost in a trance for some time, then just as suddenly wakes, without ever realizing anything happened to her. How are they ‘states of consciousness’?” her mother asks.
“While you see the child frozen as though everything in her has come to a complete halt,” Ganesh responds, “she has an inner life where her mind is very active and working on a level of consciousness very different from others.”
Cassandra’s father inquires, “Why do you say ‘abilities,’ as though they are something special, rather than a disorder?”
Ganesh answers, “What these children have can best be described as a gift – a power that enables them to affect the world far more than a mere human can; a power that they must be taught to harness and control. It is not a disorder, though it certainly seems that way to those who do not possess or understand it. The first thing to do is a simple test to see if indeed Cassandra has these abilities. Not all children who show signs actually have the true ability. May I see her?"
“Well, come on in and sit at the table in our gathering room, and I’ll call her. Cassandra!” her mother calls. Cassandra hesitates for a moment, engrossed in her coloring and not sure if she heard her mother calling. “Cassandra!” her mother calls again. Cassandra, now certain she heard, drops her pencils and hops off the cushion, strolling over to where her mother and father were.
“Yes, mom?” she inquires, as she enters the room. Then, looking up, she sees the gentleman visitor sitting at the table. With a sudden gasp and eyes wide, Cassandra stares intensely at him. “I know you!” she exclaims. “I know you! I saw you in my dream!” Cassandra stands very stiff, a little bewildered and frightened.
“Well, hello there Cassandra,” Ganesh says with a smile. “My name is Ganesh. I’ve come to talk to you about the unusual experiences people say you have had for some time now. Please, sit with me and let’s have a nice chat.” Though with a regal bearing, there is a grandfatherly warmth and kindness to Ganesh’s face and voice that quickly makes Cassandra feel at ease. Plus, she feels a strange familiarity with him, like he was an old friend. She relaxes and sits in a chair across from him. Ganesh continues, “Now, I’ve been told that sometimes you suddenly stop in the middle of what you’re doing and freeze up, but that you never remember that this happens to you, correct?”
“Yes. People would tell me they saw me like this, but I just thought they were crazy. But now I think I’m seeing things. Maybe I’m the one who’s crazy,” Cassandra answers with some concern in her voice.
“Tell me what you saw,” says Ganesh.
Cassandra describes what little she could recall. “Well, lately I get the feeling that I’ve been travelling, but I haven’t left the house. I’m travelling through space, I think, because it was very dark. But something or someone was there with me. I saw ghosts, things that look like people but were fuzzy and like a cloud. Then I was flying, with lights rushing past me, bringing me to new places. I kept flying, then I was standing on a cloud, and other people were there too…and you…you were there!”
With a gentle nodding of his head, Ganesh states, “Hmmm…I want to do a little test to help us figure out what might be happening to you.” He draws from a breast pocket a flat, powder blue, thin rectangular device, about the size of his hand. He puts his hand out and places the device on his palm. He says to Cassandra, “Now, rest your hand down on this.” Cassandra rests her hand, palm down and fingers together, on the object.
The device begins to glow with a dim blue radiance. Then it starts emitting sets of musical tones. Cassandra freezes in a sudden trance! She’s immediately swept into the blackness she saw before! At first the figures are ghostly, but they suddenly become colored in as though a paint brush were slashing swaths of colors back and forth across them! Next, the landscape and buildings in every direction become filled in, slash by slash, with broad brushstrokes of every manner of hues and tones! Everything becomes as real to Cassandra as anything in the world in which she exists! She sees and hears people going about their business, sauntering along walkways, engaging in conversation, laughing, and enjoying the day. Some walk right in front of her, look down, and greet her with a pleasant smile as they pass, “Hello, little girl.” Cassandra is gazing all around, observing all that there is to see. This whole world, all together, now bolts away in an instant, and Cassandra is flying through space. She flies past stars and other planets, as clear and colorful as ever. She sees whole star systems streaking by, and lands on yet another world, solid and vibrant with color and sounds and smells. She’s standing in the middle of a great plain, watching unusual beasts roaming and grazing. The world spins around her and disappears. She now finds herself in some sort of structure, a spacecraft it appears, zooming through the cosmos. And as though she’s passing straight through the walls, the whole craft rushes away, leaving her behind floating in space again. Beautiful streaks of light stretched out into a spectrum of colors again race toward her, spreading out from a single distant point, and flash past. It’s complete blackness again, and complete silence.
With a start and a gasp, Cassandra is home again, looking down at her hand, then up at Ganesh. Disoriented for a moment and a bit breathless, she looks around for her parents. “Mom? Dad?” she calls, looking around the room.
Her parents were in the room but standing back, letting Ganesh interact with Cassandra. “We’re here, sweety,” her mother reassures.
Ganesh asks again, “Now tell me what you saw.”
Relaxing her body and breathing more calmly, Cassandra answers, “I saw people. I saw buildings and trees and animals. I saw cities and I saw natural places. I saw entire stars and planets. I flew through space. I was in one place then suddenly I was in another place. And everything was as real as could be, as real as this room, as real as this house, as real as Mom and Dad, as real as you. It was like I existed in whole different worlds, but no different than the world I’m in now.”
Ganesh sits back, puts the device back in his pocket, and tells Cassandra, “What you saw, what you heard, the traveling you did, was as real as anything you know.”
“But how can that be, if I never left this room? I didn’t leave this room, did I?” asks Cassandra a bit bewildered.
Confirmed by the test, Ganesh continues, “You are what is known as a Time Sentient.”
“What is that? What is a Time Sentient?”
“Do you know about time travel?” Ganesh asks.
“Yeah, like if you could go back to the past or go to the future.”
“Well, a Time Sentient has the ability to do that,” Ganesh tells her. “The difference is, they do not actually physically go anywhere. Their bodies always stay in the place and time they are in, but they travel with their consciousness. They can go to any time - to the past, to the present, to the future - and any place in the universe. When a Time Sentient’s consciousness takes them to new places, it is as though their bodies are really there with them. They are as real to others as you are to me now. And because of that, they can have a real effect on people, things, and events.”
“But isn’t that just using your imagination?”
“It is very different. When you are imagining things, everything is just in your mind. You don’t go anywhere. Nothing real is affected. Nothing real can be changed. A Time Sentient’s travels really happen, and reality is changed.”
“But how is that possible?”
Looking upward with a distant gaze, and gesturing with his hand in a broad arc, Ganesh explains, “The universe has a natural vibration. Space is constantly in motion, vibrating like the waves on an ocean, or like sound that a string makes when it’s plucked. These vibrations are everywhere throughout the cosmos, and penetrate and move through everything and everyone. They pass through us completely unnoticed. But there are some people, and they are very rare, who can sense these vibrations. Their consciousness feels them passing through their minds. These are the Time Sentients. They have a special power…the ability to grab and hold onto these waves, and their consciousness travels with the waves to distant places and distant times. These waves started their journey at the beginning of time and connect with the end of time. Travelling with these waves allows a Time Sentient to go any place in the universe, and to any time in the past, present, or future. And because there are an infinite number of possible frequencies...”
Cassandra interrupts, “You mean, like all the different colors of light are made up of different frequencies.”
“Exactly. You really are such a bright girl,” Ganesh says to her with a smile. “And because there are an infinite number of possible frequencies, there are an infinite number of possible vibrations of space that exist. Each vibration has a unique frequency, and each of these frequencies is called a timeline. So there are an infinite number of timelines in the universe that all exist together, and the events that occur in one timeline are different from the events that occur in another timeline.”
“What does that mean?”
“Time is merely the flow of events in the universe. One thing happens, then another, then another. Like, you walk across the floor, then you open the door, then you walk outside. In one timeline, maybe you go to the door, open it, and go outside. But in another timeline, maybe you go to the door, but decide not to go outside, and go back to your room. And such a sequence of events can happen in an infinite number of different possible ways with an infinite number of different possible outcomes, each taking place in its own timeline.”
“Well…if there are an infinite number of timelines that exist together, is that like there are an infinite number of universes all existing together at the same time, and each one is different from the other?”
“In a way. And each is completely unaware that the others exist. A Time Sentient has the ability to ride any one of the timelines, and jump from one timeline to another. This is what allows them to go to so many different worlds. The timelines can also be ridden in one direction, taking you to the future, or they can be ridden in the opposite direction, taking you to the past.”
“So what’s been happening to me? Why haven’t I always been able to do this?”
“You are still young, and your consciousness has not matured to the point where it is fully aware of the waves passing through you. At those times when you have gone into your trances, your consciousness is sensing that something is there, but it does not know exactly what. It feels the waves moving through you, like the faintest of breezes on your face, but only for an instant. It is not strong enough to grab and hold onto the waves, so you become stuck, frozen, unable to move in space or time. It is only now that you are getting old enough that your consciousness feels the flow of the waves, but you still can’t hold onto them well, so you only see shadows of things that are, were, or shall be.”
“When will I really be able to travel through time?”
“All Time Sentients must be trained on how to properly use their abilities,” Ganesh responds. “Without proper training, a Time Sentient can go mad, or do tremendous damage to the timelines. At my school you will learn how to harness and control your power, and use it for good.”
Standing up and holding his hand out for Cassandra to take, he says to her, “Come. It is time.”
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