The life that most people led was an everyday sort of affair where the constant barrage of news announcing the extraordinary had little if any effect. Life progressed at a worm’s pace and in a very linear fashion so that trail that was immediately visible stretching pack behind one in a manner to reassure that there was some stable amount of continuity to one’s earthly existence. There might have been a more constant level of debate about such things in a more collectively religious time. But this concern had been bred out of what most considered a necessary number of ongoing concerns. No great single war or plague had descended upon the entire population of the planet for a period of seventy or eighty years.
For myself, and what could have equally been estimated by another as a fairly enigmatic existence of worship of something that my silent inner voice considered a deep and universal truth the quest had remained equally mundane. I was another ‘nobody’ in jostled around by the modern fables of somebodies termed often as ‘they’ by others that I had the occasion to run into when I ventured outside of my apartment door. The panoramic view from each of the three windows supplying an illusion of default omniscience. depending not he time of day and weather one could see for thirty of more miles from this high up. The wonder of the weather as it was posed by the chaos of nature and the passing schedules of the aerial instruments of man a show that few it any back down at ground level were aware of or most probably was not on their radar. Consequently when studying a random article that purported to recount a strange episode of astronomical anomalies there seemed a kinship with dissembling of such topics into an experience that was as visually palpable as the one that I was frequently used to. The constant meter of the sun rising faithfully at intervals brilliantly engaging the day constitution of water vapor and dust in a semiotic manner causing one to consider it a potent language from an intelligence beyond direct human understanding.
The ever-present spirit of my mother in the room when an official voice in its overly dramatic tone announce that lines had been spotted hovering stationary across a good portion of the moon. The time of day being morning and the only available view currently at hand being static or stationary clips of that image on broadcast outlets. Another fantastic tale that may or may not be true. Standing in the carpeted lounge several strands of a blur plastic stringy industrial fiber visibly lay like yarrow sticks completely out of place. I stooped down to remove the tiny bundle oblivious of any pronouncement that its sparse collection may have cast concerning my own fate. It’s presence in my space instantly ascertained as something that my shoes had unknowingly carried in to my living space. In light of its power to immediately confirm the strange events touted aloud over the Internet feeling odd. Their importance immediately and in an absent minded fashion manner disposed of into the trash as I prepared to leave the premises for an extended travel on the highways West.
The traffic was normal for the late morning of midweek and it thinned out as the suburbs gave way to the patchwork quilt of farm field tracks rolling by the car’s windows. The hum of road and air placing me in a semi-alert state of awareness leaving my conscious mind free to ponder randomly. The sky above taking on a misty quality well-dispersed like a thin blanket spread across from all four corners of the horizon. The random news byte of earlier in the day floating just as easily with other petty obsessions like toys chaotically spread within. Each waiting in turn to be picked up and observed briefly once again before being haphazardly discarded yet again. Perhaps it was the drone of the radio voice fighting with the level of signal available that stole my own sense of waking presence in that situation? The bike path that I traveled now in accompaniment with my mother’s near presence innocuously replacing the two earthbound four lane streamers that extended both forwards and back. The single trail a lazy similarly misty early afternoon swift travel through the high grass of the fields.
Something in the periphery of animal consciousness caused me to look skyward across the broad expanse of same above the slow sway of massed wheat. A massive flat ribbon of immense size sat motionless above extending diagonally across the direction of the path. It’s sharp parallel edges measuring what must have been scores of miles across from the distance of near orbit high up in space. The illusion of my own swift motion now diminished to a slow and steady Sunday walk perturbed by this sudden addition extending as it did from horizon to horizon. Nothing to suggest any detail beyond its shadowy interference in the hazy umbrella of atmosphere. Both I and the phantom presence accompanying me suddenly taking note of an unexpected voice. Two tables appearing suddenly across from each other on the side of the path like one might have expected to see at a marathon. Upon each sitting the round disk of a clipboard with a matching pad of paper seemingly containing independently scribbled notes. That inner voice booming within sharing to both of us that even in the long eternal journey of consciousness one needed to mind those events that formed one’s personality. The monumental apparition casting its dim shadow below upon us as we slowly continued past this brief way station onward to another life.