by Andy Andrews
“You read books about yourself?” David asked innocently.
“Well, no, of course not,” Churchill said, changing positions in his chair. “No, no. I’ve simply glanced through a few of them. I’m just saying,” he went on a bit more forcefully, “that none seem to focus on anything more than my years during the war. As prime minister.”
David nodded congenially, but he was really not well informed about Churchill’s earlier life either. He hoped the man wasn’t about to test him.
“I was merely mentioning the fact that in my own first act, I was secretary of state. I was colonial secretary. I was Parliament’s chancellor of the exchequer. My point being . . . I did not lack for success. Then, during the ’30s—and might I remind you that was an entire decade—I was out of office and out of favor.
“I was alone. By myself. Except, of course, for those who were close enough to point at me—usually as a good example of a bad one. Success, the ability to lead . . . all gone to the valley of the Shadow and all that.” Churchill took a deep breath. “But!” He exhaled. “But I seemed to be the only one in that Valley at the time. And the view from there gave me a frightening perspective. While France and Poland and Belgium and our own prime minister fretted about taking lunches and talking appeasement and treaties, I alone in my hole could see what they could not.
“One cannot make peace with a monster. To attempt to do so is folly and merely baits the monster’s trap. I saw Hitler rearming for war. And loudly though I rang the gong of warning, none would listen. Inevitably, when the Nazis invaded France and Poland and Belgium and our own prime minister resigned in shame, the British people came to the Valley . . . for they knew indeed where I resided. At that moment, my second act had begun.”
David sat still, looking at the man who had lived it all, grateful for the unexpected view Churchill had provided him about how his own life had unfolded. Churchill sniffed and rubbed his face with a handkerchief. “Ah, well, I am excited about our quest. Happy to be a part, as it were.”
David was about to ask if Churchill knew the question Gabriel would ask or if he knew where the others were. He was curious as to why Winston Churchill had been first to arrive and why he had been given time alone with the great man. But before he could utter a word, the door began to open.
CHAPTER 4
The two men shielded their eyes as the door opened fully. The light was almost unbearable, but Gabriel stepped quickly through and the door began to swing shut. As they stood, Winston muttered, “Here he comes. Don’t call him an angel.”
“What?” David responded, not certain that he had heard correctly and if he had, certain he didn’t understand.
“This one’s an archangel,” Winston quickly whispered as Gabriel approached, “and he doesn’t appreciate being demoted by misidentification.”
“Ah,” David replied, not knowing what else to say.
“You’ll see,” Churchill said softly. Turning his attention to the new arrival, he boomed, “Good morning, Gabriel.”
“Good day, Winston Churchill. Hello, David Ponder,” Gabriel answered.
Without waiting for anything from their divine host, Winston stepped forward, did what came naturally to him, and went on offense. “When you say ‘good day,’ Gabriel, does that indicate morning, evening, or afternoon?”
Gabriel stood expressionless for a beat, then said, “I believe the human term is grandstanding, Winston Churchill. That is what you are doing, is it not? Grandstanding? Showboating? Providing exhibition for our visitor? Surely you must remember we have had this conversation before.” With that, Gabriel began to walk to the other end of the table.
David’s eyes opened wide at what seemed like a rebuke, but Winston simply smirked and explained quietly, as if keeping a secret, “It’s the same as the old ‘inside or outside’ question. I can’t get a ruling on what time of day it is around here either. It drives me buggers. So to him”—Winston shot a thumb toward Gabriel and smiled—“I give a little of it back.”
David suppressed a grin as they moved to follow the archangel. Turning when he’d reached the end of the table, Gabriel addressed the two when they had stopped in front of him. “This is the theater,” he said, indicating with his eyes the room they were in. “Seating for attendees is provided in a circular environment. Guests are arriving now. Rules will be specified when all are seated. Take your places, gentlemen.”
Before Gabriel had finished speaking, David noticed movement to his left. He cut his eyes toward the distraction, trying to remain attentive to the archangel, but found himself unable to stop staring at Daniel Boone. Or was that Davy Crockett? Suddenly, David broke into a sweat as people— some of whom he recognized, others he did not—poured into the theater. They came from the top just as Churchill had entered. David squinted into the darkness but could not see exactly where their point of entry was. Just as Winston’s entrance had taken place, however, each person emerged from darkness to semidarkness, finally into full light, surprising David as each face was revealed.
But there were dozens of them. George Washington eased into a seat on the front row beside a woman who David thought might be Martha. He wasn’t sure. Was Martha Washington a Traveler? How would he know?
There was a small Indian man in simple canvas clothes. David felt light-headed and put his hand on the table to steady himself. A man wearing a New York Yankees cap was shaking hands with Socrates or Aristotle or someone who was dressed in a toga. There were many attendees who did not seem at all familiar, and some whom David recognized but to whom he could not attach a name.
A few, however, were very obvious. They came down the stairs and spread into the seats. He recognized Eleanor Roosevelt. Some were talking quietly in twos or threes, others stared curiously at David, and several made eye contact. Louis Armstrong smiled, and so did Fred Rogers. David smiled back. Wow. He and Jenny had spent a great deal of time together in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood when she had been little.
There were people of all nationalities and manners of dress. Different time periods were apparent by their clothes and hairstyles. David saw several kings and queens, which prompted him to scan the growing crowd more closely. He was surprised that more royalty wasn’t represented. Norman Vincent Peale seemed fascinated by something Martin Luther King Jr. was saying. He watched as King moved away and sat down on the second row beside a white-haired old man wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
David heard his name being called and turned to see Christopher Columbus waving wildly and pointing to himself, as if to say, I’m here! David grinned and waved back.
The gathering grew silent as David realized everyone’s attention was on him. Upon that realization, he also became aware of a drop of sweat beginning to roll down from his hairline. “David Ponder?” he heard Gabriel say, and when he looked, the archangel gestured toward the other end of the table. Turning, David saw that Winston had already taken his seat. He hurried toward the British prime minister and quickly took the seat beside him. Both men were where they had been before.
“The head of the table,” Churchill hissed out of the side of his mouth. “Sit at the head of the table.”
David kept his eyes on Gabriel but shook his head no to Winston, who looked horrified. Gabriel lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Leaning forward slightly and placing his fingertips on the table in front of him, the archangel began to speak. “Welcome, Travelers. Some of you, I have met. Many, I have not. But to all of you, I bid greeting. We are assembled here in order that humanity might have a final opportunity to right its ship, thus altering the direction people have chosen, many by default.”
The archangel looked at David. “As you are aware, time itself is already racing by.” He turned and reached behind him. From an upright wooden case that David could have sworn was not even in the room a few minutes ago, Gabriel effortlessly lifted a large gold hourglass and walked toward the seated men to place it in the middle of the table.
“In the period allotted by this timep
iece,” Gabriel said to everyone present, “you must answer the following question correctly.” He removed a small parchment from his robe and read, “What does humanity need to do, individually and collectively, to restore itself to the pathway toward successful civilization?”
David saw several within his sight line frown. He wasn’t sure he understood either. “Excuse me,” he said. “Gabriel, the question is about success? How to make ourselves successful? Like . . . economically? As people? I thought this would be deeper somehow. I’m not sure I get it.”
If it were possible for a facial expression to be patient and impatient at the same time, this is precisely how Gabriel appeared. “I agree with your last statement, David Ponder. For quite some time, as a simple servant, I have trusted that He understood that fact about you—that you do not, as you so eloquently expressed, ‘get it.’ Perhaps you and Winston Churchill might devote some of the apportioned time to understanding the question before you begin the process of attempting to answer it.”
David didn’t have to wonder if that was a rebuke. He remained in eye contact with Gabriel and, in response, simply nodded. Taking a breath, placing the parchment on the table, and continuing in a gentler tone, the archangel said, “These are your precepts. First: You, David Ponder, as the leader of this assembly, may ask for as many as five advisers in addition to Winston Churchill—these can only be requested one at a time, as needed, by saying aloud, ‘The summit requests the assistance of a Traveler.’”
“These five have already been chosen, though they are currently unaware of their possible participation and will remain so until the moment they are requested.
“Second: Though your time has a boundary, I would urge you to make use of a brief hiatus between each new adviser to your summit. During this break, the Travelers in attendance are free to discuss with one another what has been said and what they believe to be the answer to the question. It is assumed that in the time you allow them for discussion, they will influence the next adviser’s contribution to your counsel.
“Third: During these breaks, neither you nor any member of your summit may have any conversation or contact whatsoever with the larger group, though you are certainly free to talk among yourselves. As always, there will be common language between Travelers. Language of origin is of no consequence. Each will understand the other.
“Fourth: Presuming the time will be used wisely, you will have five opportunities to answer the question correctly. You may only add Travelers as advisers to your summit one at a time. Each, if needed, is to be called immediately after any incorrect answer. Again, you have five opportunities to submit a solution. That solution, David Ponder, is to be presented by you or by the spokesperson of your choice. At that moment, I will inform you of success or failure.
“Fifth and finally: I am the arbiter. I have been given the authority to present and enforce these mandates. However, I will not remain in this place with you as you proceed. You, David Ponder, may summon me with the words, ‘I am ready with the answer.’” Gabriel paused and looked carefully into David’s eyes. “Is there any question about your guidelines?”
“No,” David answered quietly.
Gabriel nodded. “Wisdom is the key, David Ponder. You have been chosen to lead this summit in an attempt to solve what, to mankind, has become a dire mystery.” The archangel paused, as if deciding whether to say more, then added, “The entire answer is a mere two words. Part of me wishes I could go ahead and give you those words, but another part of me is disdainful, knowing that He has already provided you ample knowledge and opportunity to avoid this moment completely. After all, David Ponder, you no longer live in the time of law, but of grace.
“Though you do not know the men and women gathered here, they know you. And they trust that your own search for wisdom has prepared you for this task. Now lead them in the quest that will determine the future of their descendants.”
Gabriel stepped away from the table. No one moved. Not a word was uttered until the archangel had almost reached the door. Then, breaking the silence like a clatter of spoons on the floor, Churchill rasped, “There’s quite a bit of sand already in the bottom.” Winston stood and leaned over to inspect the hourglass that had been placed in front of him. “The sands have been falling for some time. Aren’t you going to reset it? Don’t we get to start at the beginning?” He looked at Gabriel, who had stopped at the sound of his voice.
Gabriel said nothing at first, and David thought he might resume his exit and ignore the prime minister. Instead, he turned around and responded, “No one is ever allowed to go back to the beginning. However, the commencement of the second act is a matter of choice. For each person, the second act begins when and if one decides to change direction and set a new course. You of all people, Winston Churchill, should know that.”
They stared at him, hushed by the truth in his words, but Winston, never shy and ever game to engage the archangel, spread his arms and asked, “Well then, exactly how much time do we have left?”
Before turning quickly and walking through the doorway, Gabriel processed what he had heard. Tilting his head slowly, his blue eyes like ice, he said, “Good question. Exactly how much time do you have left?”
As the door closed, there was murmuring from those gathered, but as Winston sat back down, they grew quiet. “Suppose we get started,” he said quietly to David.
“It sounds like we’d better,” David replied. “Do you understand the question?”
“Actually, as you quite obviously also felt, the question seemed to me plain and straightforward,” Winston admitted. “However, the winged one’s impertinent response to your own query leads me to fear that the answer might be more complicated than I first assumed.”
David nodded. “I agree. So before calling the first participant, let us study the question.”
Reaching for the parchment Gabriel had left on the table beside the hourglass, Winston handed it to David. “Read it again,” he said.
Glancing briefly at the assembly of Travelers, who were in rapt attention, David read in a loud voice so that all could hear, “What does humanity need to do, individually and collectively, to restore itself to the pathway toward successful civilization?” Looking to Winston, he added, “Thoughts?”
With an unlit cigar in his mouth, Churchill responded without hesitation. “You and I heard the word success and made an erroneous deduction most likely wrapped up in our human preoccupation with success as it refers to monetary gain. Glad you got it out of your mouth first.” He grinned wryly. “Our arbiter doesn’t seem to need additional prompting to demonstrate displeasure with me.”
David agreed, but he didn’t want to say so. Instead, he continued with a thought about the word Winston had singled out. “Most people have different things in mind when they are asked, ‘What is success?’ versus ‘What is a successful life?’” Looking down at the parchment, he noted, “The question specifically refers to ‘successful civilization.’ That would signal to me that we should probably ignore the word success as it pertains to money or material possessions alone.”
“Hmm . . . yes . . . alone being the key word in your assessment,” Winston inserted. “Money must be a part of it, of course. Surely a ‘successful civilization’ must be economically prosperous.”
David concurred and began rereading the parchment. “‘What does humanity’—that’s all of us, everyone—‘What does humanity need to do, individually and collectively’? So, first, that tells us that there is something we can do. Second, it must be done alone—by ourselves—and as a group at the same time in order to be effective. Our answer must reflect that condition.”
“Yes,” Winston said. “Well noted. All right. Move on. The next words, ‘to restore,’ would lead us to believe that the answer will not be anything new or original. On the contrary, ‘to restore itself to the pathway toward . . .’ indicates that the pathway has now been abandoned.”
David pursed his lips. “And to abandon a pathway, one
would have had to be on it in the first place.”
“Precisely,” Churchill said with a sly expression. “The pieces, it would appear, are beginning to fall into place.”
Not quite ready to believe they were finished with this, the first part of the enigma, David pushed on. “In addition, ‘to restore itself to the pathway toward’ would imply that it is the direction in which humanity is heading that is troubling. And that we were, at least at one time, headed in a more promising direction.”
“The Principle of the Path,” Churchill said without elaboration.
“The what?”
“The Principle of the Path,” Winston repeated, chewing his cigar. “It states that direction, not intention, determines destination. Think about it. Certainly, humanity may ‘intend’ all it wishes. However, it is not what we intend to do or wherever we intended to be that results in a successful life, or in this case, a successful civilization. No! Rather, it is our pathway—that specific direction in which we journey—that ultimately determines our destination.”
David continued. “And that destination for which we should strive is one of a successful life, not necessarily a life of success.”
“Yes,” Winston said, narrowing his eyes. “Therefore, in light of the question, it would seem that we are to work toward a successful civilization . . . not merely a civilization of success.”
They sat quietly for a moment, each staring at the parchment, turning every word over and over again, aiming to be certain they understood the task they were about to undertake. Finally, it was Winston who spoke. “Interesting,” he said and took a deep breath. Fixing David with his eyes, he said, “Well then, my friend. Let me ask you a question: What does humanity need to do, individually and collectively, to restore itself to the pathway toward successful civilization?”
David smiled. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Winston said. “It is. And the answer, as we shall endeavor to remember, is a mere two words. Two words. Are you ready to begin?”