Now what?

Carl stood and looked. Behind him, a vast, empty wasteland, a bog really, in which nothing lived besides the algae and moss. But ahead of him lay what appeared to be a wild, untamed jungle, teeming with life, yet apparently chaotic. He took a deep breath and stepped in. The impact of the heat was breathtaking, but not nearly as breathtaking as the beauty of the wild that lay before his eyes. But not only that, every sense was overwhelmed with input. The rainbow of colors, the vast area of smells, the crunch of eons of decaying flora and fauna beneath his feet and he could nearly taste the air around him. And Carl started walking.
His initial response was awe. Every bush, every insect demanded his full attention, such that his progress, while great in content, was minimal in distance. Eventually Carl learned to observe and absorb in shorter time, allowing him to cover more ground. Eventually Carl discovered a path, fairly new, at least by his estimation. Small notes and comments left by those who had gone before, claimed antiquity but a slight nagging left Carl somewhat suspicious. But he continued onward.
Small paths deviated to the left and right of the path upon which Carl trod, but Carl rejected the temptation to deviate. Then one day it happened. Carl had been examining a rock formation slightly off his path, yet easily within sight. He has stopped off the path, yet keeping it in sight. And then he saw it. Another path, which observed from atop the rock formation upon which Carl stood, could be easily seen. Carl could see it often times paralleling his own path but other times greatly deviating. He stood for a long time examining both paths. They were very similar, yet this just discovered path was clearly far older. From his rocky perch, Carl could see the many smooth stones which made up the path. They glistened in the sunlight, revealing a long history of many feet polishing them smooth. Carl had to make a decision. Looking up and down both paths, he could see where his original path had brought him, a circular pattern of articulate designs, through deep valleys, up and down massive tree, thick with vines. Carl's many scars, blisters and slivers gave proof of his journey.
Looking back over the other path, with it's occasional parallel journey, Carl saw a very different pattern. The other path was always straight. Yes, there were just as many small paths deviating from this one as well, but all of them seemed to disappear after deviating. And this path climbed no trees. It followed no circularity. But what it did do was cover ground, a lot of ground, some of it straight over rocky hills. Some of it through swamps, thick with mosquitos. But it was always straight.
Carl spent many days looking at these paths and suddenly one day, he decided, he needed to change course. So he descended his rocky vantage point, stumbled through a patch of poison ivy, over a barbed wire fence and through multiple large spider webs, but he found the new, old path. In one sense, the large smooth stones were much easier to traverse and the path was always clear but in many other ways, the path was much more difficult. Carl often, as had been his practice, stopped to observe and learn of those things along the path. His strong calloused hands exploring and grasping as he learned. But Carl eventually learned a new mantra, "don't focus on the path, focus on the goal."
The thing that Carl noticed that was so different from this former path was the benches. This new path had, every few miles, benches upon which to sit and rest and there were always cool refreshing drinks on a small table to the side. Here he would find brief notes, left by previous travelers, offering advice and warnings. Carl typically found them to be quite helpful. It took him some time to comprehend them, some of them being quite enigmatic. He found too that most of the knowledge he has acquired in his former path was very much unlike the small notes left by others. Most of his was interesting, intriguing and complex, while theirs, much simpler and practical.
Carl began leaving notes of his own, as he took his occasional rest. Eventually, Carl began only writing one question, for he found himself knowing and understanding less and less as time progressed.
He simply wrote, "Now what?"

The disadvantage

It was a game, and it was advertised as fair, yet challenging.  So Robert arrived at the agreed upon location, at the agree upon time, ready for his opportunity to win $5000 in the competition.  He had eaten a light breakfast, he had stretched and had a good night’s rest, the night before. Robert was ready.

Two other gentlemen arrived, just moments after Robert’s arrival, in separate vehicles, one almost immediately after the other.  The first, Constantine, was the official who would be overseeing the contest and giving directions and rules. The second, Alfonso, was the other contestant.  At first glance, Robert knew he would take this contest, easy. Alfonso was a least a foot shorter and 100 pounds heavier than Robert. Robert’s heart fluttered.

Alfonso emerged from his car, gave a genuine “hello” and began his own attempts at stretching.  Constantine addressed both men with the rules, which were very simple. They were to both stand inside a spray-painted circle and, upon hearing the whistle blown, were to run to the nearest tree, grab the flag and run back, handing the flag to Constantine.  The first to do so would receive the prize.

Upon hearing the instructions and acknowledging their comprehension of the rules, both men were led to their spray-painted circles.  Alfonso first, stepped into his circle and waited for the whistle. Robert was led to a four-foot-wide, ten-foot-deep hole in the ground, with his circle painted at the bottom.  “Hop in”, Constantine instructed, rather nonchalantly. “Uh, wait a minute,” Robert replied. “Are you telling me I have to climb out of the hole first and then run?” he asked. “You both need to step out of your circles and retrieve the flag.  We just went over the rules.” Constantine replied, looking rather perturbed.

Robert drove home, empty handed.

Purpleness

Everyone knew when it arrived, but no one knew how long it had been there.  The problem was that the thing (for no one knew what else to call it) seemed to defy all the laws of physics and even the space/time continuum.  Everything about it seemed wrong, everyone agreed. All the religious leaders of the world had come near it, but automatically shrunk away from it.  To quote the Pope of Rome, “There is something very wrong about it.”

It was a calm night when the bright purple light appeared, very distinct, in the night sky over Modesto, California.  It didn’t appear on anyone’s radar but everyone saw it. It made no noise, but it appeared to be a flaming ball. When it finally reached the surface, it struck, silently and sat, silently glowing.  It was brilliant in its color, yet emanated no heat. It had no distinct shape, yet there it was, approximately thirty feet wide, fifteen feet tall and semi-transparent.

It “sat” on the parched ground and did nothing but glow for about three days.  Then suddenly, with silence, it “melted” into a large puddle, covering the ground in a perfect triangle shape.  It seemed to have no depth, but looking into it from above, seemed to reveal an infinite depth. Soon there were sightseeing planes that regularly flew patterns over the purple and the sightseers all claimed to see different things therein. Some claimed to see faces, some claimed to see animals, others to see the future, or the past, or dreams.

After three more days, the purple again shifted its “shape”.  A column, approximately three feet wide, rose from the center.  A single shaft emerged from the column, at a perfect ninety degree angle, but the shaft became flat on the end, similar to a pancake, very circular. But the pancake “disappeared” on the outer edge of the shape.  Within hours, reports began coming in of decades, even centuries old news reports of odd half circle shapes appearing in random places around the United States. Apparently, “the purple” didn’t care about the flow of time.

Then the voices began.  Initially, they were heard only by those nearby, then suddenly, six hours after the voices began, reports began coming in of people across the globe, hearing voices, simultaneously.  Apparently the purple didn’t care about the speed of sound, either. No one could make out the words being spoken, but all spoke of a very ominous feeling, almost a nausea, accompanying the voices.  

Finally, the governor of California, in agreement with the President of the United States took military action.  Initially, it was a small special forces team that, in full gear, attempted to enter the column. But in a very smooth, fluid motion, transitioned away from the column, contrary to orders. The team immediately responded with further attempts to approach the column, but again, automatically shifted away.  Multiple attempts resulted in the same fruit. Theoretical physicists referred to incident as a singularity. The purple seemed to have its own source of gravity and laws. In the same way a man would naturally walk on the face of the earth, pulled by gravity, so too a man walking towards the column automatically walked away upon nearly touching it.

A final military approach came, somewhat by accident, when a local hunter yelled “Screw it” and fired into the purple, or at least tried to do so.  The bullet, following pretty much the same path as the soldiers, veered off in the opposite direction, striking a Coast Guard volunteer in the left buttock.  The gun was apprehended and the bullet wound was dressed, to no further action.

It was with the gunfire that something moved and changed.  The purple became red, gathered into a spherical shape and rose to nearly 10,000 feet into the air.   Then with a loud boom, encompassed the entire planet in a thin red cloud, semi-transparent, yet impenetrable.  Anything approaching the red automatically was redirected in the opposite direction, like the soldier and the bullet.  

A high pitched whistle ensued and decimated all life on the entire planet.  

Duck Pond

Pondering the obvious, Carl held his head in his hands.  Not in the literal sense, but more than figuratively as well.  It was really hot in the small room in which Carl found himself and he was sweating profusely, especially down his back, the occasional bead running down the crack in his butt.

It had all started so innocently.  Carl wasn't looking at anything in particular when he noticed a policeman watching him rather intently.  His father, a former member of the American Anarchists, had taught him to avoid the police at almost any cost.  While Carl did not follow the beliefs of his father, the paranoia has been so deeply ingrained that Carl still found himself wary around the law.

So Carl innocently stood in the park, near the duck pond, looking at nothing in particular, and just happened to scratch himself, in an unfortunate place, at that unfortunate moment. The police officer then made his move.  Carl felt the heavy hand of the law upon his shoulder, literally, while his arm was bent behind his back.  "Enjoying the view there, buddy?"  The words jolted Carl back to the immediate now and made him jump.  The wrenching in his shoulder made him wince and he found himself face down on the grass.

It probably didn't help that Carl had long hair and tattoos and wore a Dead Kennedys Kennedys t-shirt.  And it probably didn't help that there was a preschool group on the other side of the pond doing gymnastics.  And it probably didn't help later, in court, that Carl's dad's dad's name came up with the judge.

So Carl sat in the small, hot, barred cell while the lawyers tried to prove him guilty or innocent of stalking and indecent public behavior.

Another bread of sweat ran down his back.