She reached up and touched his center picture.
The scene changed completely. They seemed to be in the alien world, which extended outward in every direction. Before them stood the one-eyed green ape.
“Congratulations,” the ape said. “I am Discerno, your guide for this introduction. This is a projection, and I am not as I appear; I merely have assumed a form you will find more compatible. Please make yourselves comfortable. You will find this interesting. You may pause it by tapping your foot, and end it by snapping your digits.”
Kelsie tapped her foot. The ape froze in place. “Do you believe this, Mark?” she asked, uncertain how to react.
“Sure. It’s a recording. To tell us what’s what.”
“Do we really want to know? I thought we were going to discover who made the park, but this is something else.”
“Let’s face it, Kel: no one on Earth could have made Pandora Park. Not a century ago, anyway. So it must have been aliens. Now at last they’re revealing themselves.”
“But this isn’t a real alien. It’s a projection.”
“So we won’t freak out. He said so. Maybe if we handle this okay, then he’ll let us see his real form. I’m curious as anything.”
“So am I,” she agreed. She tapped her foot again.
“Exactly,” Discerno said. “You may also rerun this presentation as many times as you choose. It is important that you understand it well, for there is great power.”
“Can we ask questions?” Mark asked.
Kelsie started to laugh, nervously. “How could a recording respond to a question?”
“You may,” the ape said. “But it will be better if you play this through once, as your questions may be answered along the way.”
“You answered!” Mark exclaimed.
“I am a special guide. You may treat me as if I am alive. There are limits, but this should work at this early stage.”
“Okay,” Mark said. Kelsie could see he was impressed. So was she.
“You have learned to operate the basic controls,” Discerno continued. “This is an excellent start. For further instruction, you have merely to touch the rim of the panel, like this.” Now Kelsie saw that the ape also had a panel beside his head.
Discerno touched the edge of his panel. New pictures appeared, each one showing an action and its result. “Or you can simply touch the instruction box,” the ape said, touching the one that showed a flat figure becoming rounded.
And then Discerno was standing before them in the flesh, in front of the wall. “This is holographic,” he said. “Touch me to verify it.”
Hesitantly, Kelsie put forth a finger to touch the green fur. It passed through the fur as if it didn’t exist. She moved her hand on through. There was no solid body there.
“As you have verified, this is only an image,” Discerno said. “You may revert me to wall-screen status if you prefer. I am unable to harm you, were that my intention.” He formed a fist and struck at Kelsie’s arm before she could pull it away. Their arms passed though each other without effect.
“Wow,” Mark said.
“There are other effects, but you can study them at your leisure,” the ape continued. “You are surely curious about this station, and why it was established here.”
“Yes!” Kelsie breathed. “Pandora Park.”
“There is a large society of sapient species in the galaxy,” Discerno continued. “That is, intelligent creatures on other planets circling other stars. They are separated by many light years, and few have interacted directly with each other. Those that have done so have a bad history. Some have warred with each other, and some have destroyed each other. History has shown that such contact is dangerous, and we discourage it. Nevertheless, there is much to be gained by sharing information between cultures, and this we do encourage. But we place careful limits on such contact.”
“Limits?” Mark asked.
“There is no physical travel by these creatures, only holographic images such as I now appear before you. Only special representatives are allowed to participate.”
“But if there is no physical travel,” Kelsie asked, “who made this park—this station?”
“Robots like me, who have no true will of their own. We follow directions exactly. Those with a will are kept on their own planets, and only selected individuals.”
“Children!” Kelsie exclaimed. “You limit it to children!”
“Yes, Kelsie,” Discerno agreed. That startled her; she hadn’t realized he knew her name. “Can you tell me why?”
“Because—because we’re immature,” she said, working it out. “Our minds are still open. We’re not locked into earning our living, or imposing our will on others, and we have imagination.”
“And we can accept other creatures as they are,” Mark added. “Without trying to kill them right away.”
“This is the nature of children everywhere,” Discerno agreed. “They are also able to learn new things faster and better than adult creatures are. So we have formed a society of children of many species. They come to know each other without hostility or greed, and exchange useful information that benefits their cultures.”
“Information?” Kelsie asked.
“For example, anti-gravity. We can provide you with key instructions to make inexpensive floating platforms that will operate outside the station—what you call the magic park—and will greatly help transportation. You will need to enlist adults of your species who can be trusted not to divulge the source of the information, for if your species leaders discover the true nature of the station, they will attempt to capture it for private benefit. Then we will have to destroy it.”
“But adults know more,” Kelsie said. “They have so much more experience.”
“And their minds are accordingly more set in their ways,” Discerno said. “They are too likely to make war because of religion or greed, and to be deeply suspicious of aliens. We must not risk that. Only very special adults can be allowed to know the nature of this park, and they must never enter it.”
“Our parents,” Mark said. “They know about the magic, but aren’t telling.”
The ape nodded. “This is vital. Only the two of you will be admitted to the park, but the secret must be kept, lest there be disaster. This responsibility is yours. A number of stations have been destroyed because they were discovered, so that their technology could not be misused. Do you believe you can honor this requirement?”
Kelsie exchanged a glance with Mark. Her mouth felt dry. “We’ll try,” she said.
“No promise is in order. You merely need to understand the danger before making your decision.”
“We do,” Mark said, looking extremely nervous.
“Why did you choose us?” Kelsie asked. “And not the children who were here before us?”
“A very special combination of personal qualities is needed. You need to be advanced enough to be able to know and use the technology. You need to be open and caring enough to accept creatures that may be quite strange to you. You may have noted that you are from opposite sides of your planet; that is not coincidence. You have shown that you can work together despite having different cultures. There are truly different forms and cultures on other worlds. And you need to have the curiosity and drive to find and enter this center. This is where you differ from those before you. You selected yourselves. But I must advise you that this is only the beginning. There will be a period of practice while you meet the children of selected other species, and they will judge whether you belong to their society.”
“Whether we belong?” Kelsie asked.
“You mean we can be kicked out?” Mark asked.
“Yes to both questions. It is my job to introduce you to that society. They will decide whether you are worthy of it. If you are, there will be much for you to do. It is a challenge whose nature you have yet to fully appreciate.” The ape paused a moment. “You may stop at this point, or pause to consider, or continue with the orientation
. The decision is yours.”
Kelsie exchanged another glance with Mark. He nodded.
“We want to—to continue,” she said.
The ape shook his head in a human-like gesture, except that his whole head seemed to move from side to side instead of turning. “You must commit for each other, not yourselves. You are a team.”
“But we agreed,” Mark said. Then he shrugged. “However, we can do it your way. Sure, Kelsie: you can go with it. Now do me.”
But the pause made her reconsider. “This is a really big challenge, with scary parts. Still, if we fail, we will be excluding not only ourselves, but our whole world. I don’t know whether I want that much responsibility.”
Mark considered. “We could mess up,” he agreed. “Maybe we should leave it to more qualified children.”
Suddenly she was terrified that he was changing his mind. “No! There have been the wrong children for a century! We’re the first right children to come here. It might be another century before the next right couple comes. To step back now may be to doom our world anyway.”
“Because meanwhile our ignorant selfish greedy leaders may blow up the planet,” he agreed. “That scares me too.”
“Please, Mark, let’s do it. This is our only real hope. The hope of Pandora’s Box.”
He smiled. “I already told you you could go, and you didn’t even have to kiss me to make me say it.”
Now the decision carried her forward like a tsunami, for good or ill. “You, also, may proceed, Mark,” she said firmly. But her heart was beating madly. What were they getting into?
“I sense high emotion,” Discerno said. “I wish I could share it. But I am only a machine.”
Impulsively, Kelsie went and kissed the ape on the cheek. Her lips touched nothing, but were in the right place. “Maybe we’ll find out how to make you come to life,” she said.
He looked at her as he floated off the floor. “You are different. Perhaps you will succeed. I believe I would like that.”
Mark laughed. “You’re dangerous, Kel!”
Kelsie felt much better about their decision.
Author’s Note
This is the shortest novel I have written, and interesting in special ways. I had completed a 256,000-word fantasy novel and a 128,000-word fantasy novel in the year 2005, and planned to take the month of November off. I had videos to watch, books to read, games to play, chores to try to catch up on, and so on. But I’m a workaholic, and soon I couldn’t help myself: I dived into a children’s novel I had been thinking about. That was Pandora Park, under 40,000 words, which I completed in that month. So much for relaxing.
As it happened, near the end of OctOgre I received an email letter from Kathe Gogolewski: she had written a short children’s novel, Tato, which she was trying to promote. Did I know a child in the 8-11 year old range who might like to read it? She said that if the child found it anything less than awesome or really good, then I should forget about it. If, however, the child loved the book, perhaps I would consider doing a review. She had been a teacher, and even in retirement was still working with children, so had an excellent notion of their interests.
Why would someone offer to send me a copy free for that? Well, in the book marketing trade authors and publishers seek what are called “blurbs”: brief favorable comments by noted figures in the field, such as reviewers or “name” writers. It is one type of promotion, and promotion is vital magic. A good blurb by a well-known figure can lead to added sales, or even help an unknown writer become known and thus successful. I have blurbed many novels in my day, thus getting my name on the cover of other writer’s books, which always struck me as a bit odd. But that’s the way of it.
However, there was a problem: my daughters have long since grown up and disappeared into adults; one even has a young child of her own. A practicing writer leads a solitary life; otherwise he doesn’t get much writing done. So I have no close contacts with children in that age range. But as it happened, I was making notes for my own children’s novel—this one—and was interested in orienting on that market. My novels are generally adult, some definitely not recommended for children. So I wanted to get it right. If she cared to send Tato, I would read it, thereby studying an example, and would let her know my opinion. I am new to the children’s fiction genre, but am a thoroughly experienced general novelist.
I found Tato to be a well-written short fantasy novel that started slow but became compelling as the magic developed. It’s about a seven year old boy who tries to make a little brother from a potato and almost succeeds. But he messes up the formula and spills some on a mirror, so not only does he get a talking potato instead of a brother, the mirror starts devouring people, including his parents. Now he has to go into the mirror himself to try to rescue them, and it’s harrowing.
Our dialogue continued, and the whole of my novel was written during it. Kathe offered to read it, when it was finished, to a group of her children, and get their reactions to it. She offered helpful advice along the way. When I realized that my female protagonist—lead girl, in regular terms—was to be Chinese, I worried about getting her reactions wrong. Kathe was in touch with a retired history professor and writer of historical fiction, Charles Mossop, who knew about China, and he helped steer me right on Kelsie.
When the novel was complete, I sent it to Kathe, who read it and offered comments. I had many words and concepts that were simply beyond the age level; that’s the problem with being an adult genre novelist. I revised accordingly, and she read Pandora Park anonymously (that is, the children were not told who wrote it) to her class, one or two chapters a day.
She made quite a report. I had tried to write for the fifth grade level, but I automatically use the precise word I feel defines the thought, and this makes for a vocabulary well beyond that range. In the third line I had “Her mouth quirked.” Bad word, for this purpose, so I had to eliminate it. In the fifth paragraph I had “...his folk decreed that...” “Decreed” left them blank. And so on, with abashed, analogy, fervently, perspective, implication, hefted, ornate, accelerating, chagrined, formidable, disconcerting, assertive, bemused, labyrinth, selective, emulation and so on. My manuscript was studded with verbal land mines.
Concepts, also, could throw them. I was surprised by the first: the Pandora plaque, summarizing a story I thought everyone knew about the box of evils. I couldn’t remove that, as that’s the rationale (bad word) of the park. So I think my young readers will just have to be confused about that. The time stasis was difficult for them. I can’t blame them there, because it is contrary to science. So I tried to simplify it somewhat, but it remains obscure. There’s a similar time-freeze in C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; I wonder whether that also threw his young readers? Toward the end, as Mark and Kelsie explore the visual mechanisms of the park, Kathe had to paraphrase frequently. I tried to clarify it, but again, there was only so much I could do without losing the fundamental mystery of it. So this is not a perfect novel for fifth graders. If they have words and concepts to learn, I may have things to unlearn.
They liked portions very well, however, and half of them rated it at the very top of the five level scale. I added up their ratings, and for about 25 children over the course of five days, it came to 70 A, 35 B, 22 C, 7 D, and 2 F. I’d call that a success. Specifically (bad word) they liked the way Kelsie turned out to be from China, the way Mark battled the tree stump, and laughed when Kelsie slapped the pig-monster and its scales fell off. They loved the way Mark tried to help the wounded griffin, and how that act of compassion opened the way to the secret of the park. There were about as many appreciations throughout the novel as confusions.
There were also some serious problems that I think go beyond what children like or don’t like. This was read at a school, and schools are extremely sensitive about the potential reactions of conservative parents. Liberal parents are something else. When my daughter’s school required children to get parental permission to read Th
e Catcher in the Rye, by J. D. Salinger, my daughter raised her hand and announced, “My father told me to read it.” Many similarly well-known books are banned from young reading lists. So when Kelsie kissed Mark on the cheek, and he floated—that was beyond the pale, for this reading, and instead she pinched his cheek. When she slapped him and his clothes fell off, only his shirt and T-shirt fell off. The scene wherein Mark’s mother discovers Kelsie wearing his T-shirt was entirely cut out. The children did not react to any of the original sequence, because it wasn’t in the version they heard. And this gives me a problem.
My assumption is that most children see a good deal of television, where violence and sexuality abound, so know the difference between an impulsive kiss on the cheek and forbidden sex. By this age they surely know that babies do not appear magically after a prince kisses a princess. I feel it should be insulting to them to assume that they would misunderstand Kelsie’s innocent gesture. So I did not expurgate (really bad word!) it, even though it may make this novel be banned from schools. There have to be some reasonable limits on censorship, which is what this actually is. Yes, children need to be protected from adult passions, which is why movie ratings exist, but let’s not throw out the baby (child) with the bath water. In fact, as I see it, this is the very type of restrictive attitude that bans adults, in the novel, from joining the effort to contact alien species. They have been corrupted by social, political, and religious restrictions and are no longer capable of rational thought in this respect. Only children are sufficiently open minded for this project.
But overall, Kathe and the children’s comments on the novel were tremendously helpful, providing me a much better notion of this particular market. I expect to write sequels in due course, and will keep the several guidelines in mind. I’m not sure any writer can get a better reader-orientation than this, and I very much appreciate the effort Kathe Gogolewski put into it. Thus the story of this novel’s revision parallels the story of its writing, and the project became a very special adventure.