For Lilian and the Indigos - Above Top Secret

table was long and allowed us all to sit at one side to gaze out at the bay, the city, the
bridge, the hills, the many small dots of houses still visible in the sunset light, and the
space above the bay where the show would play.
“How lovely,” Cara cooed as she took in the spread, seating herself in the middle. I sat to
her right, with Lee on the end. The Kid took Cara’s left and Tim sat at the other end.
We chatted a bit, through swallows of salad and salmon and the rest, discussing events
that were upcoming. The gang always knew about nearly every public fete and affair,
and I appreciated the chance to use their knowledge to fill my Calendar. After a while of
discussing the happenings in the Universe at large, I brought up the diary Lee had found.
While a ’bottie was dispatched to bring the diary from where Lee and I had left it, Tim
asked the usual question. “THE Amelia Ringer???”
“Yep. And it’s awesome to see things from her perspective. I mean, sure, the history has
a record of the events, but very little about what went on in her head to pull us free of the
scarcity paradigm. And here is her diary, giving us just that.” As if on cue, the ’bottie
arrived, carrying the precious cargo. I lifted the pile, arranged as before with the diary
atop the brown plastic bag atop the zipper bag, and gently handed it to Cara who leaned
over to share with The Kid and Tim.
Together they looked over the book, reading passages here and there, turning the pages
delicately and commenting occasionally.
Cara finally turned to me. “What an awesome find! Will you be giving this to the
Museum?”
I nodded. “Absolutely – once we have read it all, of course.” I cast a quick smile to
include Lee. Lee gently bumped his shoulder against mine, accepting the inclusion.
We finished the meal, talking about Amelia, with Lee and me giving bits of what we read
so far to facilitate the discussion. As the meal ended, I looked out to the scene before us
and noted that the sunlight was gone and only the dusk of the sunset was left. Houses
around the bay began to be seen for the light they emitted rather than what they had
reflected in the sunlight. A glinting band defined the bay opposite us in the distance, with
individual lights standing out closer by. Maybe a million houses surrounded the stage of
the bay. And no doubt many more people stood on the shores and on balconies in
anticipation, having come by J.D. or living here already. Soon, when the last fingers of
light had left the western horizon, the show would begin.
As the ’botties cleared and cleaned the table and tucked it back in the storage room it had
come from, we moved to the sofas and lounges that I had had set up closer to the edge of
the terrace. We seated ourselves near the edge, listening to the distant crash of waves
against the pylons of the bridge and the hints of the song the wind sang through the
cables that held it in place ahead and below us.