In the Social Re-Alignment program, the facilitators helped her see how logic and reason forbade belief in Wonder and the like. Constance was now beginning to realize how important it was for everyone to work together to bring about The Plan. Even if it went against her creative intuition, she grew to believe that this was the best thing for everyone. People had to be on the same page and play their role in The Prescribed Order. Things in the real world were chaotic, out of control, and unfair. But her counselor assured her that The Leaders had a good plan and she could help. Thankfully, being in The SyRAP had opened her mind, and she would do her part.
Still, night after night, Constance was troubled by a mysterious dream. As she drifted off into the deepest regions of slumber, she would rise out of her body, floating over a peculiar- looking little man who lay sleeping on the floor inside a glowing chamber and, she would begin to dance.
Faye faultsom had been looking back. Her journey began abruptly on that tearful and troubling evening when Constance drove off, leaving her mother alone to make sense of her daughter’s painful declaration of disbelief. Faye’s recollections and rehearsals over the months since then had taken her through the long dark winter of her family’s adventures and travails, and back through her daughter’s journey away from home.
She finally came to the end of her wanderings one day as she stood at her kitchen sink overlooking the unfurling foliage of her early summer garden. She was glad to have the house to herself that afternoon, for she was brimming over with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Just as the family’s drafty vintage home shuddered during stormy outbursts of foul weather but still managed to stay firmly planted on Dumble Street, so the Faultsom family had been deeply shaken by their own tornado of trouble but had managed to survive the howling onslaught against them and their unconventional way of life.
There was fallout, to be sure, but at least Frank and Faye had stood rooted together. This had resulted in the growth of new possibilities unfolding before them, while at the same time they watched other ones die.
In the end, Faye’s boundless passion and creativity could not be stopped. She would always find a way to explore the promise of a new horizon. Thankfully, Faye knew that her faulterings and foibles, along with her inevitable mothering malfunctions, were balanced by Frank’s kindness, practicality, and wisdom. And she, in turn, gave him the jump-start he often needed to keep his head out of The PP (Peerless Pencil) by finding ways to help him awaken his own fearless and slightly goofy “inner” Faultsom. For this and so much more, he treasured her and she honored him with warmth that overflowed her heart and hopes. They both had their failings, but together they made up much more than the sum of their parts. Opening their arms to an enlarging circle of curious wanderers, their Dumble Street oasis had become a place where sojourners like themselves could find a bit of Wonder.
Their sons, though they had endured many a searing doubt and daunting struggle, returned from their time in The SiRAP with more imagination in their souls than their parents could have thought possible. Charleston reentered the Faultsom orbit with the ability to launch into deep space at a moment’s notice. He flew off into dimensions that his parents could never reach, but he would, in due season, gravitate back to earth, bringing with him the treasures he gathered from the far reaches of the galaxies he explored in his search for Artifex.
His cello was his closest traveling companion on these journeys into the far and near, and it became his favored method of communicating the things he discovered. He found enjoyment in his role in their community orchestra and, in his teenage years, rose up the ranks as a cellist of note. He also began to compose and perform music of such an ethereal quality that it never failed to have a Wonderous effect upon those who listened to it. They found themselves awakened to another dimension and floating in a supernal sweetness that flowed out of Charleston’s musings. Frustratingly, however, he tended to be disconnected from day-to-day life, for he was ever the introspective voyager. It was quite an accomplishment that he stayed integrated into the fabric of the family, making his unique contributions to the Faultsom frenzy.
Chance was as high-spirited and unpredictable as ever. Always one to keep things interesting, he became obsessed with creating a host of mind-bending blueprints and inventions. Among them were his prototypes for a self-elongating slide and a fusion-energy reactor. He was determined to bring the possibilities of Wonder into this world. His friends, a rather odd and nerdy group of kids, poured in and out of the house carrying all sort of gadgets and gizmos as they rattled on about velocity, friction, resistance, inter-dimensional travel, and strategy battle games. Their brains were ignited by ideas and excitement which seemed to flow in from another realm and into the Faultsom basement — as Chance lit the wicks.
Chief organized a Wonder Club for interested neighborhood buddies. The Dumble Street backyard clubhouse became a place of refuge and exploration for many a misfit. They would show up as if drawn by the scent of something delicious in the atmosphere. Sometimes they were impelled to investigate the often over-the-top, pollen-like Faultsom energy and wound up encouraged by them to take a thrilling slide into the unknown. When energies were running at their peak voluminosity, there was something about the Faultsom boys’ and their folks’ oddly funny and yet profound conversations that were irresistible…exhausting, but irresistible.
Much can be said, and should be written about the supernatural safaris, misadventures, dilemmas, and victories of all The Knights Faultsom, but for now let it be known that, through the years, many perilous and Wonderful doors were opened for these young men as they overcame the thorns and darts of The Shadowlands and continued their search for Artifex in The All of It All. And let it be duly noted that these explorers discovered this most rare and perplexing word, Artifex, does indeed have a singularly grand and important meaning in our world.2
The Ladies Faultsom had a very different journey. The road of Constance’s return to the house was quite a bumpy one. The eldest Faultsom offspring found herself withdrawing from the family in general, and from her mother in particular, spending more and more time with a set of friends she made while in the program.
Faye could feel Constance slipping away but hoped it was just a phase. She tried repeatedly, bumbling in her attempts to draw Constance back into the fold. This often only succeeded in worsening the growing rift between Constance and the family. Frank was sometimes able to diffuse the rising tensions, but his daughter was keeping her distance from her dad as well. It wasn’t long before she made it clear that she was finished with her parents’ weird and idiosyncratic ideas. She drew her lines in the sand, carved out her own path, and left behind their foolish imaginings and the pressure she felt to please them.
All the while, Constance was becoming increasingly aware of the desperate needs in the world around her. Taking this to heart, she determined to do what she could to improve things for others. Along with several like-minded friends, she decided to pursue community-service training, and when she was old enough, she moved out and found a position at The Social Repair Center where she lent a remarkable beauty to everything she set her hand to. Whether she welcomed clients or developed innovative ways to deliver aid to the needy, Constance carried a glinting light and graciousness wherever she went. Although sheathed in a thickening toughness, there was a beauty in Constance that nonetheless drew others to her. And, there was something inside her that longed to give away more than she knew she had.
Faye and Frank looked upon their daughter’s work from a distance, but with tender admiration. They were so proud of the way she would pour herself into the lives of others, but her parents were also deeply saddened, for Constance would not open up the well of her soul to them. Nor would she allow them to pour their love into her as they had in the past. Constance had ceased to believe in them.
So, there it was.
This was how things stood.
Faye had to live with the reality that no matter how hard they had tried to pr
eserve the sacred space of their daughter’s heart and imagination, they had failed. She had failed.
Faye stood by the sink that early summer afternoon, rooted to the floor as this reality permeated her soul. She felt that persistent old jab under her ribs along with its accompanying ache in the pit of her stomach and the faint hissing voice in her head. Despite the reality of what they had all shared together and how desperately Faye had fought to keep that alive, Constance had lost Wonder.
Faye faulted herself.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What a relief it was for her to look out onto her gardens and see new life. The house upkeep that desperately needed her attention would have to wait, for the out-of-doors called to her. Here she found fresh perspective and encouragement as she walked among her flowers, pulling out the weeds and digging her fingers into the soil. The blossoms were always hinting at something that made her want to be with them. So she finished the dishes and wiped her hands, her bangle bracelets jingling as she headed out to the backyard. The day seemed pregnant.
The warmth of the afternoon sun fell upon her shoulders like a comforting blanket, as if her long-departed mother had come along-side her with an affectionate, knowing embrace. The effect was potent and instantaneous. She thought she had cried all her tears of grief and regret, but that wretched ache hit her stomach again as another sob erupted from inside her. She felt herself bend over involuntarily as if to deliver it to the earth. Right on cue, her nose let loose with the contents of her sinuses and she stuffed her hands into the floppy pockets of her hippy-styled gypsy pantaloons, groping for a hankie.
“It figures,” she cried out. “No tissues! Now I’ll have to go inside…”
She delved more deeply into her pockets, fingering the linings furiously as if she could make a tissue appear. No, there was no chance of that.
“But what’s this?” she asked herself. Faye’s sensitive fingertips discerned a teensy hard, almondy-shaped thing. “Hmmm, I wonder what this could be?”
For some reason she was intrigued by this little bit of something. She wiped her nose on her peasant-blouse sleeve as she took the little thing out and held it up to the light. Squinting in the sunshine, she examined her discovery at length.
It was a Seed.
How odd! Why would it be in her pocket? And what was it about this Seed that was commanding her attention? Why was it in this pocket? She hadn’t worn these crazy pants or, for that matter, seen a Seed like this…since…why, of course!
Since…Wonder!
As she looked at it, she knew this Seed was one of those tiny brown-coated ladies with whom she had exploded out of Madame Yorav. They had all been thrown down to Wonder’s surface together! That must have been how this seed wound up in her pocket.
Her thoughts unrolled.
“Receive The Seed,” she could hear Mr. Keeze say.
He had faded more and more from her mind over the year since Constance’s fateful declaration, but now he was so real in her memory that he could have been standing right next to her.
“Wosdim,” she laughed, recalling his array of mixed-up Wonder words. “He unlocked so much wisdom, for me. But what happened? I’ve made so many mistakes. It all went so wrong.”
She placed the extraordinary little life-carrier carefully in the palm of her hand and gazed at it. A wave of remorse hit her and she started to tear up again. She heard a comforting voice stop her mid way through her guilt-trip.
“There there, my dear, do you know who you are? Why, you…you are Mrs. Amazing! Yes, you are…for you have dared your children to Wonder, and every child needs a mother like that. You see, to truly Wonder is to find Artifex. And to find Artifex is to be utterly found.” These had been the very words that The Gate Keeper had whispered into her ear just before he said goodbye!
This was The Seed he had planted in her.
Faye was overwhelmed once again by recollections of the waves of pure love flowing down upon her through the majestic red door that hovered in the sky above her in that Wonderous flower field.
“But Mr. Keeze,” Faye spoke out loud, “she doesn’t Wonder anymore. I’ve failed her. There’s no hope.”
The voice of The Gatekeeper carried on in her head.
“Mrs. Amazing, remember! There is a marvelous secret hidden in The Seed: Even when humans are not championed by selfless love, even when you fail each other, The Intention of Artifex is still buried in the soil of every life. When The Seed penetrates even the most forsaken of hearts, at first it seems to die but…it awakens. So, in The Seed, there is always Hope.”
She received his words and allowed them to penetrate. Deep, they were going deep, and this time she would not let them go. She swallowed them up, ingesting their very essence with fierce determination. She thought she could hear a familiar hissing voice scream bitterly and trail off into the distance as if it were running away, terrified and angry. The persistent ache below her solar plexus was disappearing.
She looked down at the germ of life she held in her hand and suddenly felt anticipation rise in her as if it might burst open at any second and sprout right there. She began to contemplate the possibilities.
“Where one seed has been smothered and choked-out, perhaps there is room for another…”
At this, an inspiration hit her. She tightly clasped her hand closed and ran into the house. Riffling through her unkempt kitchen drawers she grabbed a lock-zip snack bag. Opening her hand, she took out The Seed and dropped it into the plastic bag, sliding her fingers across the top to close it securely. Then she stuffed the bag into her pants pocket, grabbed her backpack, and keys, and headed out to the car.
About an hour later she pulled up in front of Constance’s little apartment complex. It was a weathered building with a covered front porch and a patch of lawn. Although it was more than a bit rundown, it possessed an artsy charm that Constance and her roommates thought was cool. Her daughter had done her best to spruce it up outside, putting in some plants in the tiny flower beds bordering the porch. Although they were not particularly robust, Constance’s plantings had held their own.
It was late in the afternoon now and her eldest was still at work. Faye got out of her car, stood in front of the building for a moment, and then walked up the cracked sidewalk until she reached the dirt that bordered the porch.
Kneeling down, she threw her fingers into the soil between Constance’s plants and began to break up the dry ground. It eventually yielded to Faye’s strong fingers. She was encouraged to discover that underneath the hardened and fatigued top layer of earth, there was a more promising layer of somewhat richer, moister soil. Once she uncovered it, she took the plastic bag out of her pocket, unzipped it, and gingerly emptied its contents into her palm. Pinching the teensy seed in her fingers, she pressed it into the small hole she had just created. Then she tucked it away under a layer of dirt and patted the top lovingly as if she were putting a child to bed.
She spoke tenderly to The Seed:
“Here you are, little life, a place to grow. Please…awaken…soon.”
She arose, brushed off her hands, and walked to the side of the building where she found the water spigot and, attached to it, just enough hose to reach the bed. She turned on the water and dragged the hose around the corner. With her thumb partially capping off the top of the opening, she created a water shower and directed it over The Seed’s burial place. Once the ground was sufficiently wet, she returned the hose, turned off the water, and headed to the car. There was a spring in her step.
“Artifex be extolled!” she sang out in her crackling voice.
She was calm and hopeful, somehow…free.
In the end, Mrs. Amazing had planted a seed of Wonder in her daughter’s life, and that was enough.
2 One might suppose that other extremely bright and inquisitive young people would seek out its meaning in our world as well — if they have been Wondering about it, that is.
It had been a long day at the social repair center. C
onstance, who was employed there, was working with families in crisis and developing programs for children who had no one to advocate for them. She thought about her job as she navigated through the traffic. She loved summertime because it would still be light when she arrived home that evening.
Constance worked hard each day to make a difference. Progress with her clients was painstakingly slow, but at least she was doing something. She didn’t agree with the uniformity demanded of the participants in the relief programs, but there had to be compromises in order to serve the greater good of The State. The Leaders knew best and had a prescribed plan. Yes, she and her family had enjoyed great freedom to think outside the box, but then, look where that had led them? Further into their delusions. She preferred to live in the real world knowing that one could not count on unicorns and rainbows in order to solve real problems. Not everyone had the luxury of indulging in fantasies. The playing field had to be leveled for all the kids who didn’t have both parents and a safe place to grow. She wouldn’t sit back in a bubble and leave people in crisis with-out assistance.
Constance was exhausted and drained as she headed up her walkway. Stopping at the mailbox that hung on the front porch post of her little apartment building, she opened the squeaky-hinged lid of the metal box and reached inside. Glancing down upon her recent attempt at gardening, her eyes fell upon a very strange flower that had sprung up among her plantings. This bloom was unlike any other in her array, and yet it seemed familiar. It was so captivating that she could hardly take her eyes off it. Its unusual qualities and dynamic colors were a delight to her weary eyes.
What was it about this flower? She had to get closer. When she walked over and bent down to look at it, a delicious floral bouquet reached out to her, unleashing in her a craving for more. She watched as a bumble bee landed on the bloom and sunk into it. Constance detected buzzy, slurping sounds as it drank, and she could feel the utter pleasure of the bee! How was this possible?
Mrs. Amazing and the Seed Page 13