Acceptance

I sat there, suspended not in the void of OrTerra, but within the familiar warmth of my Dad’s living room. Before me, shimmering with impossible clarity, was a hologram: a vibrant, living tableau of my Mother, her laughter echoing, the entire family caught in one of our many shared adventures. This one, the indelible memory of our trip to the Florida Keys, where George, my Dad, with the unwavering patience of a true teacher, initiated Jason and me into the silent, wondrous world of scuba diving. My Mother, Betty, her spirit luminous, was always there, an integral part of every family foray, every joy.

I was so utterly absorbed by the scene, lost in the luminous echoes of a past so vividly resurrected, that I didn’t notice my Father. Not until it was too late, until the subtle shift in the air, the faint creak of the old couch as he moved to sit beside me, registered in my heightened awareness. With a jolt, I quickly extinguished the hologram, the vibrant scene dissolving into the mundane reality of the living room.

“How long have you been standing there, Dad?” I asked, my voice betraying a hint of panic.

“Long enough, son,” he replied, his voice a low growl, strained with effort and profound shock. “Long enough to damn near have a heart attack. What on God’s green earth is going on?” His eyes, usually clouded with the dull pain of his condition, were wide, disbelieving.

“Well, Dad,” I began, the words careful, measured, “before I explain, I want you to tell me how you’re feeling. Truly.”

His gaze, somber and filled with a lifetime of concealed suffering, held mine. “Besides being scared out of my wits, watching my dead wife—your Mother—and me and my kids at some resort in the Keys, twenty-some years ago, a scene that never, in all recorded history, should have been captured… and my bones aching from standing longer than I should… I’m just dandy, John. How are you?” His voice was laced with a dry, bitter irony.

“Sorry, Dad,” I murmured, a genuine pang of regret for his premature glimpse. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. Not until I explained everything, which is why I’m here. Dad, something happened to me yesterday that’s going to be even harder to believe than what you’ve just seen.”

I took a deep breath, plunging into the unbelievable. “I was visited by an alien. Well, not really an alien in the conventional sense, but a hologram—much like you just saw of our family—of an alien entity from a planet billions of light years away. And, I spent most of the day inside a ship, where he showed me how to create these holograms using this device on my wrist.” I gestured to the amorganon, still cool and subtle against my skin.

My father’s expression, already a mask of disbelief, hardened. “An alien and a ship, and you want me to believe you? Have you… have you gone mad?”

The direct challenge, the accusation of insanity, cut through the surreal. I changed tack, a deeper, more immediate concern coming to the forefront. “We haven’t talked lately about how sick you really are, Dad,” I said, my voice softening, filled with quiet urgency. “I think you’ve been hiding from me just how bad it is.”

George did not reply, his gaze fixed on me, a profound, somber look of concealment in his eyes. A lifetime of quiet suffering, endured without complaint, was etched in his silence.

“I know this may sound like a stupid question, Dad,” I continued, my voice low, intense, “but please, this is as serious as I have ever been. If you could take a pill and be completely healthy again, free of all pain, would you?”

My father’s lips quirked, a flicker of his old humor. “You’re right, son, it is a stupid question.” His eyes, however, held no mirth. “Well, of course, I would. Do you think I want to meet your Mother that bad? I’m not in a hurry, not for that. And yes, this pain does sometimes make me wish I was dead. But to have just one day without the pain… that would be a miracle to me.”

“Not one day, Dad,” I insisted, leaning forward, my voice imbued with a newfound, impossible certainty. “I mean to feel like thirty again. No pain, full strength, limitless energy. Would that be… cool?”

My father’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock. “Now I know you’re crazy,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Why would you say something like that?”

I reached out my arm, the amorganon now a familiar extension of my will. I no longer had to physically press the duplicate button; a mere thought, and suddenly, the bracelet shimmered, eager to be plucked from my wrist and placed onto his Father’s.

I removed the shimmering bracelet and gently placed it onto my Father’s arm.

George’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening to impossible saucers. He looked, for all the world, as though he had seen a ghost—or perhaps, become one.

“What just happened to me? Am I dreaming?” he whispered, his voice thin, reedy.

“No, Dad, you’re not dreaming,” I replied, my voice calm, reassuring. “This is real.”

“I don’t feel a thing,” he murmured, then his eyes snapped open wider. “No, I do feel something. Weightlessness. And a surge of energy, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s as though I was reborn.”

And then, with a burst of sudden, impossible vigor, George literally jumped to his feet, a spring in his step that hadn’t graced his body in decades. He began running, a joyous, almost manic circuit around the couch, then leaping, a man freed from his earthly chains. He suddenly stumbled, a comical expression on his face, as he realized he had run right through the couch, not around it.

“Whoa, what was that?” he exclaimed, swatting at the air around him a few times with his hand, trying to grasp the intangible reality of his new state. He shook his head. I must be dreaming, his expression seemed to scream.

He turned to me, his eyes now shining with a profound, almost childlike wonder. “I’m a believer, John. What is going on?”

“As I said,” I explained, my voice filled with the weight of this new truth, “this alien being and this ship created this device. And when you wear it, it converts your body into energy. You have no cumbersome bodily functions. Your body and your mind are truly free, Dad.”

“So, do I have to keep this thing on?” he asked, a touch of practicality returning. “What happens when I take it off?”

“That’s the best part, Dad,” I replied, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “When you remove the bracelet, you will still be sixty-five, but you will be free from all your diseases and ailments. It’s a healing machine as well as a converter of energy.”

“Can I keep it?” George asked, his voice almost pleading, the miracle of it all sinking in.

“As far as I can tell at this early stage, yes, you can keep it.” The decision, now, was mine to make.

“Adju,” I thought, the command clear and direct, “would you please introduce yourself to my Father, George Smith?”

Suddenly, Adju materialized before George, his ancient form shimmering, serene, a benevolent presence in the center of the living room.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, George Smith!” Adju’s voice, a melodic resonance, filled the space within my father’s mind.

George merely stared, his eyes wide. “Nothing,” he finally managed, his voice a low, raspy whisper, “nothing could shock me any longer after what I have just been through. Now a man appears from out of nowhere. My pleasure, I’m sure, Mr. Adju.” He extended his hand, and it passed effortlessly through Adju’s ethereal form.

“Is that true, Adju,” I asked, confirming the profound gift, “can my Father keep the bracelet?”

“You are Ascendant, John,” Adju replied, his voice resonating with ancient wisdom, “you may do as you wish.” The choice, the ultimate authority, had truly been bestowed upon me.

“Alright, Adju,” I thought, the words a silent, momentous declaration, imbued with a newfound sense of purpose and immense responsibility. “You’ve convinced me. I accept your invitation to become Ascendant.”

“I am very pleased, John,” Adju responded, a quiet, profound affirmation that filled the living room, and my very being.