"And the fourth?"
"Well, I guess if you want to put it into mathematical terms you'd square the square. But you can't take a pencil and draw it the way you can the first three. I know it's something to do with Einstein and time. I guess maybe you could call the fourth dimension Time."
"That's right," Charles said. "Good girl. Okay, then, for the fifth dimension you'd square the fourth, wouldn't you?"
"I guess so.
"Well, the fifth dimension's a tesseract. You add that to the other four dimensions and you can travel through space without having to go the long way around. In other words, to put it into Euclid, or old-fashioned plane geometry, a straight line is not the shortest distance between two points."
For a brief, illuminating second Meg's face had the listening, probing expression that was so often seen on Charles's. "I see!" she cried. "I got it! For just a moment I got it! I can't possibly explain it now, but there for a second I saw it!" She turned excitedly to Calvin. "Did you get it?"
He nodded. "Enough. I don't understand it the way Charles Wallace does, but enough to get the idea."
"If you are not substantial yourself
it's very difficult to realize how limiting proto-plasm is."
(It's pretty much what I have tried to explain to others
what it was like walking through:
"proto-plasm"
A membrane so to speak,
you could feel it when
you punctured through it
and ended up somewhere else unexpectedly.
Thick enough
I looked back to see what had happened.
You could feel it.)
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on."
She smiled broadly. "Prospero in The Tempest. I do like that play."
(Yes we are.)
"I hate it!" Charles Wallace cried passionately. "I hate the Dark Thing!"
Mrs. Whatsit nodded. "Yes, Charles dear. We all do. That's another reason we wanted to prepare you on Uriel. We thought it would be too frightening for you to see it first of all about your own, beloved world." "But what is it?" Calvin demanded. "We know that it's evil, but what is it?"
"Yyouu hhave ssaidd itt!" Mrs. Which's voice rang out. "Itt iss Eevill. Itt iss thee Ppowers of Ddarrkknesss!"
"But what's going to happen?" Meg's voice trembled. "Oh, please, Mrs. Which, tell us what's going to happen!" "Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!"
Something in Mrs. Which's voice made all three of the children stand straighter, throwing back their shoulders with determination, looking at the glimmer that was Mrs. Which with pride and confidence.
"And we're not alone, you know, children," came Mrs. Whatsit, the comforter. "All through the universe it's being fought, all through the cosmos, and my, but it's a grand and exciting battle. I know it's hard for you to understand about size, how there's very little difference in the size of the tiniest microbe and the greatest galaxy. You think about that, and maybe it won't seem strange to you that some of our very best fighters have come right from your own planet, and it's a little planet, dears, out on the edge of a
little galaxy You can be proud that it's done so well."
"Who have fighters been?" Calvin asked.
"Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs. Whatsit said. Mrs. Who's spectacles shone out at them triumphantly, "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not."
"Jesus!" Charles Wallace said. "Why of course, Jesus!" "Of course!" Mrs. Whatsit said. "Go on, Charles, love. There were others. All your great artists. They've been
lights for us to see by." "Leonardo da Vinci?" Calvin suggested tentatively. "And Michelangelo?" "And Shakespeare," Charles Wallace called out, "and Bach! And Pasteur and Madame Curie and Einstein!"
Now Calvin's voice rang with confidence. "And Schweitzer and Gandhi and Buddha and Beethoven and Rembrandt and St. Francis!"
"Now you, Meg," Mrs. Whatsit ordered.
" Oh, Euclid, I suppose." Meg was in such an agony of impatience that her voice grated irritably. "And Copernicus. But what about Father? Please, what about Father?"
"Wee aarre ggoingg tto yourr ffatherr, " "But where is he?" Meg went over to Mrs. Which and Mrs. Which said. stamped as though she were as young as Charles Wallace Mrs. Whatsit answered in a voice that was low but quite
firm. "On a planet that has given in. So you must prepare
to be very strong." All traces of cheer had left the Happy Medium's face.
From somewhere Mrs. Who's glasses glimmered and they heard her voice. "Calvin," she said, "a hint. For you
a hint. Listen well:
...For that he was a spirit too delicate
To act their earthy and abhorred commands,
Refusing their grand hests,
they did confine him
By help of their most potent ministers,
And in their most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprisoned, he didst painfully remain....
Shakespeare. The Tempest."
Allwissend bin ich nicht; doch viel ist mir bewisst.
Goethe. I do not know everything; still many things I understand. That is for you, Charles. Remember that you do not know everything."
(It might as well had been written just for me at this point.)
"Everybody knows our city has the best Central Intelligence Center on the planet. Our production levels are the highest. Our factories never close; our machines never stop rolling. Added to this we have five poets, one musician, three artists, and six sculptors, all perfectly channeled." "What are you quoting from?" Charles Wallace asked."The Manual, of course," the boy said. "We are the most oriented city on the planet. There has been no trouble of any kind for centuries. All Camazotz knows our record. That is why we are the capital city of Camazotz. That is why CENTRAL Central Intelligence is located here. That is why IT makes ITs home here." There was something about the way he said "IT" that made a shiver run up down Meg's spine. and
But Charles Wallace asked briskly, "Where is this Central Intelligence Center of yours?" "CENTRAL Central," the boy corrected. "Just keep going and you can't miss it. You are strangers, aren't you! What are you doing here?"
(This is 1963.
Information technology was even really a thing just yet.
"There was something about the way
he said
"IT"
that made a shiver run up down Meg's spine"
These days?
it should yours as well.)
"Charles Wallace stared after him. "What is it?" he asked Meg and Charles. "There was something funny about the way he talked, as though-well, as though he weren't really doing the talking. Know what I mean?"
(Yes,
yes I do,
and I've experienced it six or seven times now,
in an instant things change:
non verbal,
facial expressions,
posture,
tone,
cadence
and amplitude of voice,
speaking of things
they had no prior knowledge of.
First few times it scared me to death,
Now I'm like:
Oh
You again?
Haven't you figured out the power in me
is greater than the power in you yet?)
"Calvin shook his head. "I'm not so sure. And these people seem to be people, if you know what I mean. They aren't like us, I grant you that, there's something very off-beat about them. But they're lots more like ordinary people than the ones on Uriel."
"Do you suppose they're robots?" Meg suggested."
(I just about fell out of my chair at this point.
Truth.)
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