The voice seemed to take more complete possession of Jimmy’s thoughts then, growing louder and more eager, echoing through his mind with the persuasiveness of muted chimes.
“Jimmy, close your eyes tight. We’re going to take you across wide gulfs of space to the bright and shining land of your birth.”
Jimmy obeyed.
It was a city, and yet it wasn’t like New York or Chicago or any of the other cities Jimmy had seen illustrations of in the newspapers and picture magazines.
The buildings were white and domed and shining, and they seemed to tower straight up into the sky. There were streets, too, weaving in and out between the domes like rainbow-colored spider webs in a forest of mushrooms.
There were no people in the city, but down the aerial streets shining objects swirled with the swift easy gliding of flat stones skimming an edge of running water.
Then as Jimmy stared into the depths of the strange glow behind his eyelids the city dwindled and fell away, and he saw a huge circular disk looming in a wilderness of shadows. Straight toward the disk a shining object moved, bearing aloft on filaments of flame a much smaller object that struggled and mewed and reached out little white arms.
Closer and closer the shining object came, until Jimmy could see that it was carrying a human infant that stared straight at Jimmy out of wide, dark eyes. But before he could get a really good look at the shining object it pierced the shadows and passed into the disk.
There was a sudden, blinding burst of light, and the disk was gone.
Jimmy opened his eyes.
“You were once like that baby, Jimmy!” the voice said. “You were carried by your parents into a waiting ship, and then out across wide gulfs of space to Earth.
“You see, Jimmy, our race was once entirely human. But as we grew to maturity we left the warm little worlds where our infancy was spent, and boldly sought the stars, shedding our humanness as sunlight sheds the dew, or a bright, soaring moth of the night its ugly pupa case.
“We grew great and wise, Jimmy, but not quite wise enough to shed our human heritage of love and joy and heartbreak. In our childhood we must return to the scenes of our past, to take root again in familiar soil, to grow in power and wisdom slowly and sturdily, like a seed dropped back into the loam which nourished the great flowering mother plant.
“Or like the eel of Earth’s seas, Jimmy, that must be spawned in the depths of the great cold ocean, and swim slowly back to the bright highlands and the shining rivers of Earth. Young eels do not resemble their parents, Jimmy. They’re white and thin and transparent and have to struggle hard to survive and grow up.
“Jimmy, you were planted here by your parents to grow wise and strong. Deep in your mind you knew that we had come to seek you out, for we are all born human, and are bound one to another by that knowledge, and that secret trust.
“You knew that we would watch over you and see that no harm would come to you. You called out to us, Jimmy, with all the strength of your mind and heart. Your Uncle Al was in danger and you sensed our nearness.
“It was partly your knowledge that saved him, Jimmy. But it took courage too, and a willingness to believe that you were more than human, and armed with the great proud strength and wisdom of the Shining Ones.”
The voice grew suddenly gentle, like a caressing wind.
“You’re not old enough yet to go home, Jimmy! Or wise enough. We’ll take you home when the time comes. Now we just want to have a talk with Uncle Al, to find out how you’re getting along.”
Jimmy looked down into the river and then up into the sky. Deep down under the dark, swirling water he could see life taking shape in a thousand forms. Caddis flies building bright, shining new nests, and dragonfly nymphs crawling up toward the sunlight, and pollywogs growing sturdy hindlimbs to conquer the land.
But there were cottonmouths down there too, with death behind their fangs, and no love for the life that was crawling upward. When Jimmy looked up into the sky he could see all the blazing stars of space, with cottonmouths on every planet of every sun.
Uncle Al was like a bright caddis fly building a fine new nest, thatched with kindness, denying himself bright little Mardi Gras pleasures so that Jimmy could go to school and grow wiser than Uncle Al.
“That’s right, Jimmy. You’re growing up—we can see that! Uncle Al says he told you to bide from the cottonmouths. But you were ready to give your life for your sister and Uncle Al.”
“Shucks, it was nothing!” Jimmy heard himself protesting.
“Uncle Al doesn’t think so. And neither do we!”
A long silence while the river mists seemed to weave a bright cocoon of radiance about Jimmy clinging to the bank, and the great circular disk that had swallowed up Uncle Al.
Then the voices began again. “No reason why Uncle Al shouldn’t have a little fun out of life, Jimmy. Gold’s easy to make and we’ll make some right now. A big lump of gold in Uncle Al’s hand won’t hurt him in any way.”
“Whenever he gets any spending money he gives it away!” Jimmy gulped.
“I know, Jimmy. But he’ll listen to you. Tell him you want to go to New Orleans, too!”
Jimmy looked up quickly then. In his heart was something of the wonder he’d felt when he’d seen his first riverboat and waited for he knew not what. Something of the wonder that must have come to men seeking magic in the sky, the rainmakers of ancient tribes and of days long vanished.
Only to Jimmy the wonder came now with a white burst of remembrance and recognition.
It was as though he could sense something of himself
