Shawn sat on the wooden bench outside the train station office. The single lamp above the station platform clinked lightly with every little breeze. She held her ticket tightly in one hand, and her small suitcase under her arm. Her dad had stepped inside the train station to pick up a schedule for the afternoon local between San Sebastian and the coastal town of Tranquility Sound. He said he would be right back.

Shawn watched the branches of the trees across the tracks move slightly in the wind. It was warm for October, and the sun was drifting lazily on its westward journey. A bird flew into the field of Shawn’s vision, and lit on the end of the station platform. She watched it as it hopped along the edge of the platform, intent on something far from her understanding. Then, something frightened it, and it flew up and off toward the trees across the way. Shawn watched all this with a mellow feeling inside.

Alec Kendall paused at the edge of the station platform. Shawn smiled, and her steel-grey eyes sparkled when she saw her dad. Alec held a brochure in his hand, and his eyes, too, sparkled. They were but several hours from their long-planned weekend with Shawn’s mother, his wife of ten years. Alec sat beside Shawn and opened the folded paper, a schedule of stops along the way to Tranquility Sound, and together they studied the chart and the times their train would arrive at each town along the 200-mile journey to the sea.

Alec’s work as an archaeologist and anthropologist focused on ancient peoples who were star-gazers, watchers of the ancient skies, people who kept the pulse of their age through some mystic connection with celestial bodies. His seminal doctoral thesis, “Stone Masons To The Stars,” massaged the controversial notion that a significant body of knowledge about the human condition was well known and used by ancient peoples throughout time, and was not the sole purview of latter-day scientists. This drew the mixed ire, interest, and praise of archaeological societies as well as the astrophysical brotherhood from around the world.

Kari Brandwynn had earned a double doctorate in astronomy and astrophysics, and was the director of the High Energy Liquid Laser Outreach (HELLO) Research Center on Tranquility Sound, a program funded of private foundation monies to seek contacts with extraterrestrial intelligent life.

Kari’s early graduate research utilizing mythic-enhanced computer models which she devised for cosmic data applications, had proven promising, so much so that a private foundation sought her out and offered her the directorship of a new facility being developed on a remote spit of land extending into Tranquility Harbor.

Professionally it wasn’t a difficult decision, although the site meant she would have somewhat of a commute, and during the week would be away from Alec and Shawn. It meant, however, an opportunity of a lifetime for her to pursue her love of the heavens. Within the next six months, Kari, Alec, and Shawn would be moving into their new home just ten minutes from the research center, and the separation and commuting would come to an end.

Kari’s idol and sometimes mentor had been Carl Sagan, precise and erudite professor and eternal student of the heavens, instrumental in making the Cosmos a household thought. His photo hangs on the wall above her high-powered computer console, an overseer-emeritus of her ongoing work. Alec and Shawn were traveling out for a respite weekend with Kari, whose work schedule would be interrupted for a brief period while the massive radio telescope was being readied for modification and upgrading to a new complex of computer hardware.

The train ride was an exciting adventure for Shawn. Again. It had always been so. The conductor this trip was a kindly old man of the old school of train lore. He dressed immaculately, kept a well-trimmed mustache, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and the twinkle in his hazel-green eyes and his infectious smile immediately captured Shawn’s heart. As the train wasn’t full, and the conductor seemed to have made an attachment with Shawn, he spent much of the ride in their car telling wonderful stories of years of following the rails.

Shawn loved his stories, and thought of Grandpa Brandwynn, who had that same twinkle in his eyes. The train ride was over all too quickly for Shawn, and as they disembarked at the little coastal town of Tranquility Sound, she waved goodbye to her newly found friend. The conductor winked and pointed his finger at her, and then the train pulled out from the station and was gone.

Kari waved excitedly as Alec and Shawn walked across the station platform toward the parking lot. Shawn ran into her mother’s arms, and the two hugged and whispered little nothings. Alec put his huge arms around them both, and joined in their whispered greetings.

After a brief time, they got into the car, and Kari drove the ten miles out to the research center. It was a remote setting, extending out into the Sound. The terrain on the mainland was flat, extending in every direction to the horizon in gentle undulating greens and browns. The nearest high point of land was a lighthouse promontory some 20 miles to the north.

The lighthouse tower’s rotating beacon, a blinking light with a regular rotation of 3.5 seconds, was a warm reminder of one’s earthly connection. Too, it served as a visual anchor for Kari as she watched the radio telescope’s monitor and the myriad alpha codes and mixed digital readings. There was something very reassuring in seeing actual light, as compared to ones and zeroes on a video monitor.

Shawn climbed onto the high stool in front of the 48-inch monitor in the control room, and asked if she could pull up her game. Kari smiled, and nodded. Shawn typed her codes on the keyboard, and in milli-seconds the smiling face of “Uncle Truman and The Dwellers of the Cerro Madre” blazed across the screen.

A game of guess-who-dunnit that pitted a budding archaeologist against the halls of time, this was a game designed by Shawn’s Uncle Truman Singleton, an archaeologist of some renown, who developed educational computer games for children in his spare time.

In moments, Shawn was caught up in the lost world of the Anasazi and the Cities of Cibola. Kari watched her enraptured daughter, and smiled. Alec sat behind Kari as she leaned forward and returned to the unfinished work at her console, completing one final segment of preparatory programming before the contractors took over the upgrade of the giant radio-eye on the sky.

Kari had spent the better part of the past week in long 16- and 17-hour days of this programming, checking data and rechecking, and time was taking its toll. Her eyelids were heavy, her mind mush, and her fingers typed in way too many errors. “The Master” gently mentioned to her that it could not complete that particular function due to some input error. Alec nudged Kari; “Need some coffee for this last little bit, Hon?”

Kari stretched, and said, “No, thanks. Just have a page left, and I’ll try to keep my eyes open so’s we don’t spend the rest of the night here. Sorry.”

Her fingers returned to the keyboard, and she finished the final page with only a couple of additional errors, which she was able to catch.

As Kari put the final thirty pages through the data check and sequential protocol, and watched the screen as “The Master” corrected those errors she’d missed, something in the back of her mind registered a disturbance in the background noise in the room. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Shawn hunched over the keyboard, her eyes glued to the monitor. Then, she noticed that Shawn had stopped working the keyboard, and as she turned toward Shawn’s console, the lights in the room dimmed and flickered out.

“Damn!” muttered Kari. Her monitor had flickered off, too, leaving only the silver-grey light coming from Shawn’s monitor the only light in the darkened room. Kari rose and came over to Shawn; Alec followed close behind. The three watched the screen, as light and dark danced across the 48-inch expanse.

Then, subtly at first, but with increasingly noticeable changes, the sides of the monitor grew blurred and indistinct. The lights onscreen extended off the monitor, and the darkness of the control room extended into the visual space of the screen. The three looked at each other, and as each returned their gaze to the monitor, the verge between the virtual world on screen and the actual reality in the room merged into one incredible blending of light and sound. Shawn reached out and grasped her parent’s hands. Then all was silence.

Shawn found herself sitting on a beach on a low wooden bench. There was a gentle breeze coming in off the ocean, and the night sky was a deep indigo with the splash and sparkle of lights in patterns as ancient as time itself.

It was warm. Just south of the Zenith, and slightly off to the east, a light source twinkled in a regular pattern of 3.5 seconds. It grew, maintaining its regular pulse, until it’s light overpowered Shawn on the beach, and it was as day. In the midst of the growing light was a figure of a young girl with deep steel-grey eyes, her hair jet-black and hanging halfway down her back in a French braid.

Beside her lithe figure strode a lean and powerful cat with large pointed ears. The young girl smiled at Shawn, and extended an open hand in greeting. Shawn stood and approached the girl, relaxed and at ease in her presence. The huge cat sat patiently beside the girl, alert, her eyes holding Shawn’s. Shawn returned the cat’s gaze, and found there a curious calmness.

“Hello,” spoke the young girl, her lips a hint of a smile.

“Hello,” returned Shawn hesitantly. “Who are you? And where are my parents?” she asked.

“I am a spirit of the night; and this is my friend, also a dweller of the night skies.”

Shawn looked hard into the eyes of the young girl, and then those of the large cat. “What does that mean?” she asked. “And, where are my parents?”

“They are watching us as we speak,” said the young girl.

“I don’t understand,” said Shawn quietly, her eyes fixed on the young girl.

“They are observing your monitor in the center,” the young girl replied.

“They’re watching you and me talking?” queried Shawn.

“No, not exactly,” said the young girl. “They’re actually seeing forms of light and dark, but it’s essentially you and me.”

Shawn frowned.

The young girl took Shawn’s hand. “Your mother opened a door with her special computer program,” said the young girl; “She used a key that the Ancients used a very long time ago; we have been watching her for some time.”

Shawn closed her eyes slightly, curious at the young girl’s statements.

“What kind of key?” asked Shawn. “And why are you watching my Mom?” she continued.

The young girl laughed, and pulling Shawn by the hand, led her down the beach toward a small round boat moored in the shallow waters on the shore. The sleek cat walked silently beside them. The boat was covered in animal hides, and looked much the worse for wear. The young girl motioned for Shawn to get into the boat, and held the sides to keep it steady as she did so. She and the cat got into the boat next to Shawn, and the boat slid off the sands onto the waters of the harbor.

Shawn looked back, as the shoreline receded slowly behind them. The young girl did nothing to steer the boat, and Shawn couldn’t see what motored it through the waters. The young girl smiled at Shawn’s puzzlement, and nodded: “The powers of the night are mysterious, but not inaccessible. Your mother has learned that.”

Shawn looked into the young girl’s steel-grey eyes, and started to ask again what she meant, but was stopped by the young girl’s eyes.

“Your mother is a sensitive and gentle person. She loves you very much, and your father. She knows what you are thinking, often before you open your mouth because she sees into your heart, and into your mind,” said the young girl.

The cat watched Shawn intently, and Shawn could hear the large feline purring over the sound of the waves. The young girl continued: “She trusts you, and is one you can trust with your life. You feel safe in her arms and in her care; you can tell her anything, and you know she will always be there when you awaken in the mornings.”

Shawn’s eyes melted into the eyes of the young girl, and she knew she could trust her as she trusted her mother. She smiled, and touched the young girl’s hands. “My mother knows a secret, is that what you mean?”

The young girl smiled, and nodded. The cat purred again.

“Can you tell me what that secret is?” asked Shawn.

“You know the secret, Shawn,” whispered the young girl. “You know it from the game your uncle gave you. You’ve played within its powers every time you’ve opened the game and put yourself as the player. Remember what you’re to do in that game? How you’re to follow what your heart tells you?”

Shawn nodded her head, and a light began to dawn in the back reaches of her mind.

You can use your mind, and in fact you have to, up to a point,” continued the young girl. “But at that point, you must trust to other senses, to other powers. It takes trust. You have to listen to your heart, and go where it leads you.”

Shawn looked deep into the level eyes of the young girl, and momentarily felt a sense of recognition, as though they had met in a time before. The young girl nodded. “Yes, we have met before, you and I; each time you’ve played your uncle’s game. He, too, found the key to the mystery of the Ancients. He and your mother share the same secret. You know it as well, Shawn. It is the light, the wonder of mystery; it is the power of the human spirit, and the energy of the human heart. We call that ‘love,’” said the young girl.

Shawn opened her eyes, as the light of the monitor flickered slightly, coming then to a steady state. The lights above suddenly came on, throwing the research room into the brilliant silver-white of fluorescent lighting. Shawn squinted and looked around, and into the eyes of her mother and dad.

“Are you all right, Shawn?” asked her Dad.

A pause. “Umhmm,” whispered Shawn, “I’m fine, now…”