The First Alexander: Part III of III

Karen had woken up that morning, and headed into the kitchen for her morning coffee. She told me later that she knew something was wrong when that smell of freshly brewing coffee wasn't wafting through the house already. She knew I was up since I wasn't in bed when she woke up.

But that familiar and welcoming aroma was missing. I remember when she walked in the kitchen, she hardly noticed me.

She said, “Good morning,” but walked past me half asleep. She even kissed him on the head, but went straight for the coffee pot.

“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.

“Sure,” I answered.

I didn’t say anything else. And as the dark, rich smell of caffeine began making its way into her nostrils, she started to take in her surroundings.

Karen finally realized that something was bothering me. My hair was disheveled and I was still in my pajamas. I remember she commented on the dark circles under my eyes, and I told her I hadn’t slept well.

That’s when she noticed the box.

It sat on the table in front of me. That metal box, covered with engravings that remind me of Egyptian hieroglyphics and an open space in the middle of it, just big enough to slip a hand inside.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A present,” I said.

“A present for you or from you?”

“For me.”

“From who?”

“From him,” I told her.

“Him who?” she said. But I think she knew who I was talking about. She just wasn’t ready to accept it. I know she felt much better after he left the first time.

“He came back,” I said, “the one that survived.”

Karen didn’t say anything for a while. She understood why I was so tired; why I didn’t even make the coffee.

“What is it?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted. Then I slid the box between us and looked Karen in the eyes. “But I can show you.”

I told her to focus on the question, “How big is the universe?”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Trust me. Just think of that question, over and over again. Then place your hand on the top of the box.”

She nodded, but didn’t put her hand on it right away. So I put mine inside the box first. The engravings began to light up as if it was coming to life. Karen was afraid, but she trusted me. I could see her repeating the question in her head, “How big is the universe? How big is the universe? How big is the universe?”

Then she placed her hand on the top of the box and closed her eyes.

We were immediately linked. Every thought she had, I had. It felt as though our minds moved outside of us and into a strange and infinite library. It’s like floating through the information like a ghost until you come upon the answer to your question. It wasn’t something we could read or see. It was just something that we now knew.

Then we fell away from it all, until we were back in the kitchen. She lifted her hand just above the top of the box, and I pulled mine out from inside it. All the lights on the box went dark, and we just stared at each other.

Finally, I told her, “You can ask anything you want. If he knew it, we can know it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything they knew, yes.”

“What are we supposed to do with it?”

“Well, it’s a library.”

She sat there for a bit, and then reminded me, “I always wanted to be a librarian.”

“I think you’ll get that chance.”