by K. B. Kofoed
Their car pulled into the driveway.
Jim got out and took his daughter in his arms. “Don’t ever think that I’m not proud of you. Your double base hit won the last game, and the tournament. That was terrific!”
Stephie hugged her Dad back with all her might. Then, hearing Woolsey barking in the back yard, she ran off to find him. Kas looked at Jim doubtfully. “She missed you a lot when you were gone. She was afraid that you’d miss the entire tournament.”
Jim felt ashamed. “You’re right,” he said sheepishly. “I got caught up in my own affairs. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. We’re a lot wealthier for your efforts,” said Kas, “but now you’re home and I thought...”
“I’ll try to be a better Dad,” said Jim. “I give you my word.”
#
The Sunday paper reported that the military at Los Alamos announced they had tested a new class of fuel-air weapon, but the details were classified. Jim knew otherwise. The vision of the fireball remained vivid in his mind, as did the memory of his experience in the Tabernacle. More than these, the word “remember” kept echoing in his head.
He understood Aaron’s fear. The General had made it clear that Thunderbolt should remain secret at all costs, but for reasons Jim couldn’t fully explain he knew they had nothing to fear. Wednesday came and went without word from Aaron. Then on Friday, a full week after the Los Alamos explosion, Jim got a long distance call from Marta in Switzerland. She told Jim that she and Aaron were starting a life there. “Aaron found a job with a jewelry manufacturer, and he will be staying. They started him right away so he couldn’t call you.” She gave him their address in Geneva.
“You don’t sound afraid any more,” said Jim.
Marta was quiet for a moment. “I can’t talk for very long,” she said. “Aaron wanted me to call and thank you. He says you are right. No one would believe. And there was something else. You’re drawings left out an important detail.” Her statement floored Jim. “What?” But before he could ask Marta what it was she was gone.
Jim thought for a long while and decided to dismiss Marta’s comment. Maybe she was just angry or trying to put off-track anyone who might be tapping her phone. He put down the phone and sat for a long time, thinking. Then he remembered the document that he’d begun long before he went to Los Alamos, his story about the ark. He found the disk that had the file stored on it and put it into his computer. Everything, including scans of the ark drawings, was there.
Jim put the disk in his bag and shut down his computer. When he got home he put the disk into his home computer and started typing.
An hour later Kas walked into the den. “What are you working on?” she asked.
“I thought maybe I’d try my hand at writing,” he said. “I thought I’d take all that material I have about the Ark of the Covenant and maybe turn it into a novel. After all, why not put all that research to good use? I’ve been an artist all my life, and I have a fairly good imagination, and I was thinking that I need a hobby. Why not try writing?”
“Good idea,” said Kas. “You started it a while ago. What will you call your novel?”
“Something simple,” said Jim. “Maybe I’ll call it ‘Ark’.”
THE END
Statement by the Author
While the author has endeavored to be as authentic as possible with regard to biblical or historical references, no historical or spiritual interpretation or explanation is intended or implied.
Many books have been written on the subject of the Ark of the Covenant. All of them are speculative at best.
"Ark" is fictional in every sense of the word. The author recognizes two things:
1) The Ark of the Covenant is one of the best described and holiest objects in the Old Testament. For this reason it has sparked the imaginations of readers of religious texts for centuries.
2) The description in the Old Testament is not complete. It leaves out exactly how the lid or "Mercy Seat" might have looked. We are told only that two "cherubim" or angels were permanently affixed in some way on top of it. We know only that they had wings and that those wings overshadowed the Ark. To the author's knowledge no one has ever described them as they are described in this novel, as flat "cookie cutouts" attached to the "ends" of the lid as extensions of it. Yet that description is merely the notion of the author. While it seems to be the key to how the Ark might have "worked" as a resonator, it is still speculation.
Some people think that the entire story of the Ark, how it worked, and how it was used as described in the Old Testament's book of Exodus is myth and, with no evidence disproving this, that may be the case. It is assumed that the original Ark or a facsimile of it resides in a temple in Axum, the capital of Ethiopia. But only two men presently alive who have been called the Guardians of the Ark have ever seen it and they will not say what it looks like. That will probably remain their secret forever.
But even if the Ark did work as the story describes there is another consideration to keep in the mind. The Ark would have captured radio waves that are roughly in the one meter bandwidth; roughly the same as the background radiation of the Universe - the left-over remnants of the "Big Bang" that created everything we call reality. This, to the author's mind, takes it well beyond the realm of just being a device to capture radio waves.
All artwork designed and drawn by the author.
“Ark” Copyright 1997 - 2015 by Karl B. Kofoed