9:41

by Iannuzzi, John Nicholas;

  “Margaret, I’m surprised”, he said, looking at her crossly, actually hurt. “But nonetheless, your fears will completely disappear in about two minutes. Watch!”

  He closed the door of the machine on the frightened mouse, set the dials at the exact time that he wished to send the mouse to, and threw the power switch. Whirr, the machine’s parts began to mesh and pick up speed. The noise began to be a whine, and then a small bell sounded.

  “There. Now we shall see, Margaret”. He opened the door in anticipation and curiosity. Margaret leaned in a little closer so as to see inside the machine. Reggie peered into the machine. A wry smile rippled across his face as he turned to Margaret. “You’ll notice my dear there is nothing inside the machine, nothing at all, whereas only a few moments ago there was a live mouse”.

  “It really does work. Can you ever forgive me for doubting you for even a minute, Sir?”

  “Certainly, Margaret. I’ll admit the machine did sound a little fantastic, but I was quite sure that it would work. After all, nature is very consistent, and when the proper steps are taken, success is guaranteed. I really think this is wonderful. I’m going to try it again”.

  “Oh, please do, Sir. It really amazes me to see such a wonder in operation”.

  Reggie placed another mouse in the machine, closed the door, and turned the dials. “Now, power on, and …” The machine didn’t start. “What in hell, don’t tell me something has gone wrong already. He reset the power switch at zero and opened the machine. The furry little white mouse inside scampered around the bottom of the machine. Reggie snared it and placed it back inside the cage. “Hand me the flashlight, will you, Margaret?”

  “Yes, Sir. What do you think could be wrong with it, Sir?”

  “I don’t exactly know, probably a loose wire inside or something”. Reggie was peering inside the machine, probing from spot to spot with the light beam of the flashlight. “Aha, here we are, just as I suspected, a loose wire. Hand me the small screwdriver please, Margaret”.

  She handed him the tool; he began to tighten the wire, one hand turning the screwdriver, the other holding the light.

  “Oh damn, I can’t get at it this way”. He placed the light down on the inside of the machine, focusing it on the spot where the loose wire hung and with both hands began to tighten the wiring. “One more turn and … there we are. I think that should take care of it”. He straightened up, closed the lid, set the dials and threw the power switch. The small engine purred and spun into life. “There we go, now let’s get that mouse and see if the machine still works”.

  Margaret was hurriedly fetching the mouse from it’s cage when Reggie looked to her in a befuddled way and said: “Margaret, did you see what I did with my flashlight?”

  The bright, orange light of the evening sun as it sat low on the horizon filtered in streams through the gaps in the immense cloud of dust that was raised by the passage of thousands of pairs of sandaled feet sauntering home from the Circus of Nero at the conclusion of the day’s games. As the crowds wended their way toward the outskirts of Rome, a slight figure was fighting through the crowd back toward the city. It was a woman, dressed in the unpretentious garb of a plebian, crying with all her might, “Domitius, Domitius, where are you?” She was calling to her son who at the moment was where she was not. Frantically, she ran and walked and ran again when the breath allowed her to, constantly calling “Domitius”. About a half-mile further back on the Via Appia, an attractive small boy of thirteen sat on a small grey-veined rock at the side of the road, absorbedly scrutinizing an object he had picked up.

  His black hair hung n points over his bronzed face, his dark eyes darting over the shiny object in his hand. It was an interesting, yea, even more, most marvelous thing that he had found. Surely there was not another tube like this in all of Rome, for he, being a vendor of wine skins, having traveled the length and breadth of the entire city, including the outskirts, had never seen another. Never had he seen anything in all of Rome that was so different, so shiny, so strange.

  It was a small, tubular object, approximately 7 inches long and 2 inches in diameter, with a black metal body, and a silver tip at both the bottom and top, and a knob like bump on its side, a thin metal circle on one end, and beyond all wonders, a transparent hard shiny substance on the other end with a small eye surrounded by silver inside of it.

  “By Jupiter, this is a wondrous thing, though yet, I know not what it is for. I’m sure it is mysterious and wonderful. Perhaps a lost gift of tribute for Nero, or perhaps the lost booty of a Praetor. I think it best I make no mention of this to anyone, even my Father and Mother”.

  As he concealed his new found curiosity beneath his garments, he heard from afar his name being called aloud. For the first time in many minutes, he realized that the crowds were gone, as was his Mother. He recognized his mother’s voice and began to run toward it, calling in return, “I’m coming, I’m coming”.

  He reached his Mother who was weeping from worry and exhaustion as she stood in the middle of the road.

  “I’m sorry I caused you worry, Mother. I just stopped to tie my sandal and I saw many curious rock formations and merely stayed to examine them”.

  “I was frightened that you might have been run over by those wildly charging horses and chariot. Those rich young madmen from the city care not for the lives of a few poor people as they enjoy themselves while killing us”.

  “I’m all right, Mother. Let us start for home lest it get dark before we get there”.

  As they walked along with swift pace, Domitius was driven not by a fear of the dark, but by a desire which deepened with ever stride he took, for underneath his outer garment there beat against his side with every step toward home, the hardness and coldness of that strange metal tube he had picked up at the side of the road. His curiosity began to slip ordinary bounds as his mind was frantically thinking of things that this metal tube might be.

  Just as the dark grey of falling night was giving way to ebon darkness, they reached their small, hut-like home, where Casua, the lord and master of their little swelling, sat surrounded by leather goods and sewing equipment, making wine skins for Domitius to sell in the city.

  Casua was crippled, hacked down by a sword in the Gallic wars so many years before. He was unable to walk, and had to be carried from place to place. As they entered, he addressed his small family in an annoyed voice.

  “Did Nero gorge himself on the sufferings of those poor Christians? I wish to Jupiter he would stop this barbaric pastime. I care not for Christians, but ye gods, I’ve seen enough suffering, as has all Rome, to enjoy this spectacle. I wish I had the power to stop it”.

  The family sat down without further talk, and began to eat of the meal Meverina, wife of Casua and mother of Domitius, had just prepared. It was a simple repast of fowl and herbs, with a thick sweet sauce that Casua liked so much for the after-meal sweet.

  Domitius ate little during the meal, and that which he did eat, he ate quickly, for he wished to spend as little time as possible in the house. He wanted to get out to the small clump of trees that had been the place of boyhood fantasies, where he knew he would be alone, and there examine the tube with more care.

  Once out of the house, he ran, lantern in one hand, the other holding tight the spot where the tube was, so it would not bang against his body too hard, to the hidden place. There, he flung himself upon the ground, and with gasping breath, removed the tube from its hiding place.

  “Wonder of wonders, this is a most marvelous thing, whatever it is. It must be a scepter of the gods”. He held it sideways, upside-down, twisted it around, felt poked, and prodded every inch of the metal surface. He twisted the end with the metal circle and found that it untwisted from the rest of the tube. This he did cautiously, only to find two smaller tubes within. These were covered with a parchment-like substance and had figures painted in a foreign language. Perhaps a message from the gods.

  “Great Caesar, this is a strange thing”. />
  Quickly, he replaced the two smaller tubes to their original place, not wishing to disturb anything should he be found with this treasure. He kept fingering the tube. Suddenly his finger which was on the knob on the side of the tube slipped forward and … “Great gods!”

  He dropped the tube in astonishment, bolted and ran as fast as he could toward the protection of a big rock. There he sat with a cold moisture spreading over his body, his teeth chattering, his hands shaking.

  “Great Jupiter protect me from this horror”. He sat where he was in the coldness of his fright for what seemed to be many minutes, not daring to stir. With no further sound, or sign from where he had dropped the tube, he timorously lifted his head above the rock to see what was there.

  “Gods on high, protect me”. There in front of him, lying on the ground, was the tube he had just been holding in his hands, and emitting from the front of it, from the little eye, was a beam of light … a light brighter than the sun, which illumined a path across the little knoll and rested upon a tree in a found circular patch of light.

  He stood, petrified behind the rock, silently observing the phenomenon that was taking place in front of him. Certainly this, thought he to himself, was an omen or a sign from the gods. Perhaps it was meant for me to find.

  He slowly moved from his hiding place to a spot directly behind the tube, opposite the tree that was being lit up by this marvelous omen from Apollo, the sun god. He crept quietly ever forward until he stood over the tube. It moved not. Now he reached down with trembling hand and picked it up. Still it moved not. He held it in his hand, and as his hand moved, so did the patch of light, now over the ground, now over the trees, making everything before him visible to the eye even though it was darkest night. His trembling fingers pushed the knob on the side again, and suddenly the darkness of the night surrounded him. A great fear overcame him as he stood there with the quietness of the night enveloping him. His curious fingers pushed forward on the knob and again a flash of light jutted out from the little eye and lit up a green fir tree. He pushed the button again; the light went out; again, the light went on; again, the light went out.

  “I can control this magnificence with the touch of a finger. What a wonderful gift. Surely the gods sent this to me so that I might control it and use it for some purpose”, he thought. “Perhaps enough power to overcome the atrocities that Father was speaking of before. Surely this must be the answer. Power from the gods to withstand the divinity of Nero. It is an omen for me to oppose Nero. Was he not only a few years older than I am when he ascended the throne? So be it, oh gods, I will follow your wishes”.

  In the days and weeks that ensued, Domitius revealed his power only to a few people, and these that he did show it to were the leaders of the tribes and groups that clustered together for protection. Each of these leaders were astounded by his magnificent gift, and were moved to agree with him as to its purpose. Slowly, a movement began to form. People would gather and Domitius would come with his ‘Scepter of the Sun’ and shine it forth on the people so that they might receive strength from the sun.

  All of these meetings were held at night, in the woods, for “The Light”, being of the sun, was not stronger than the sun, and, therefore, could not shine brighter in the day-light than the light that illumined the world, and as there was no place big enough to hold all of the people indoors, the meetings were out in the open at night.

  Soon, the movement numbered 10,000 people, including Christians, Jews, plebeians, all of the poor and oppressed. Rumors began to stir on the Palatine Hill that there was a revolution brewing, but Nero was somewhat unmoved to the danger that it presented. Nevertheless, he perfunctorily sent the royal guard out to uncover and disperse this rabble. Domitius and his followers however, were quite careful and clever about their meetings and the guards could never discover their whereabouts.

  The Envoy of the Sun, as Domitius was now referred to, and his power of light was becoming a password in the city. Nero was becoming more frightened each day as fresh rumors would start to circulate. The rumors told that this movement was to lay waste the Imperial palace and rid the Roman world of the evil that came from there, including Nero.

  Shortly thereafter, Nero began to grow impatient with the royal guard and called upon his army to find and destroy this insidious and treacherous impersonator of divinity. One evening when the royal festivities were about to begin, a runner, one of the army’s messengers, came pantingly exhausted to Nero’s quarters and told of the movement that had entered the city from the western gate. It was a vast crowd, growing larger with every meter it moved, carrying torches, and at its head was a boy. A mere youth with all the innocent appearance of the young, but in his hand he carried a light, a small light, the path of which he could direct at his wish. A light brighter than the sun.

  “Did not the army kill this boy and disperse the crowd?” asked Nero.

  “They tried to, Divinity, but when they did, he, the boy that is, threatened to shine the light on them and strike them dead. They all fell back with great fear in them”.

  “Where is this sun god now, runner?”

  “He and his followers are headed here, Divinity”.

  “Here?” Nero twirled and bolted for the balcony. From this vantage point he could see out across the shadowed roofs of the city. Not more than half a mile from the palace, marked off by the flaming torches they carried in their hands, the crowd could be seen. A faint roar could be heard from them as they proceeded toward the palace. Reports kept coming to Nero … “they’re approaching” … “they’re increasing in number” … “they’re laying waste the entire city as they come forward”. The crowd was venting all its rage on innocent Rome, the city. The western quarter of the city was already starting to burn.

  Nero looked to the west and there, against the back-drop of purple he saw the orange glow of the conflagration. The crowd was only a few blocks from the palace now.

  “Guards, the army, send someone out there to stop them, do you hear me!” shouted Nero.

  Men of the army issued forth from the front of the palace and stationed themselves in phalanxes across the front entrance. The roar of the crowd was deafening, drowning out all other sounds, including the orders shouted by Nero. The yellow-orange glow of the burning torches could be seen slowly creeping over the ground ever nearer the palace. From the high balcony, Nero saw the shadows of the first part of the crowd as they entered the square. All that could be seen was a yellowish glow and weird out-of-shape shadows of men. Then, around the corner of the wall, came the darkened figures of the first members of the crowd silhouetted in orange. The entire mass of the main body came surging around the corner like a huge, black cloud of dust.

  The yelling and screaming was terrifying, yet Nero heard it hardly at all, for in the midst of this entire ebon mass were two spots of light approaching with and just a little ahead of the crowd. One was on the ground, large and oval shaped. The other was suspended in the air a few feet behind. These spots swayed and moved as if they were part of the walking crowd. Nero realized that this was the Scepter of the Sun, Domitius, the sun god. He froze in his position at the edge of the balcony, hands leaning on the parapet, body hunched forward to view the crowd below him.

  The light stopped swaying. It emitted from the tube and lit a circle of the red brick in the courtyard. Then, the light which had been traveling in a circular path on the ground in front of the crowd, ventured forward, across the ground further away from the crowd, toward the palace. It proceeded to the base of the wall, thence it travelled up the wall slowly. The crowd silenced as they saw the circle of light invade the privacy of the palace wall. The circle traveled across the interstices of the bricks, across carved marble pillars, up over the marble protruding balcony until at the parapet, it rested on a pair of hands, a white and purple clothed chest, a garlanded head … Nero!

  A scream lifted from the crowd.

  “It’s Nero. Nero”.

  The light played upon the
Emperor’s quivering face steadily. The crowd silenced. Nero was screaming at the top of his lungs to the holder of the light, whoever he might be.

  “I, Nero, the Divine, am displeased. How dare you to invade my privacy in such an outrageous manner?”

  “I, Domitius, sent by Apollo, the god of the sun, have come to eliminate the atrocities that you have caused. I defy you”.

  “How dare you? Guards … guards, seize that boy that I might deal with him in my own manner”.

  The guards, who had fallen back at the approach of the light, were still too frightened to seize the boy of the sun. Domitius looked at Nero audaciously, and with strong voice acclaimed, “You, Nero, are no longer fit to be Emperor. I have been sent to replace you and set things aright in Rome”.

  The crowd was yelling hysterically. All this while, the light was playing on the trembling countenance of Nero, but now, if one looked closely, the path of light was not the blue-whiteness that it had been previously, but more of a cream color. The dimming went unnoticed, except to Domitius, who, of course, had no control of this.

  Meantime, without noticing the dimming of the light, the crowd had taken up a cry in unison.

  “Down with Nero … down with Nero”. They were screaming all sorts of curses and jibes at him.

  He, in the meantime, unable to do anything, stood immovably at the edge of the balcony, staring down in the direction of the origin of light. Now he too noticed that this light was changing color, and though he knew not what this mean, he could tell that the lights was not as strong as it was before.

  Domitius began to feel slightly less confident than he had been. The light dimmed to a yellow-tan, a tan, and suddenly the court was aglow only with the faint orange light of the torches that had been moved to the rear to make the sun god’s light more effective, and the pale, but ever increasing glow of the same color which was approaching from the western quarter of the city.