“Count me in, sir,” Rob said quickly.
The captain shook his head. “No, Rob. If we establish any kind of communication it has to be through you. We can’t risk your going.”
“But why not, sir? If one of the same birds comes after me that flew off with Bill maybe I can manage to figure out a way we can talk. They may not be unfriendly, sir.”
“Hold it,” the captain said, and looked at the board.
A message began to sound out, very slowly, in a code so old Rob didn’t recognize it at first. Then he realized that it was Morse.
“Can you understand me? Can you understand me?”
“Fire ahead,” Rob tapped back.
“Learned this as a gag when I was a kid. Never realized it would come in so handy.”
“Who are you?” Rob tapped, puzzled.
“Bill, you idiot.”
Suddenly the code began to come quickly, professionally. “We have mastered your code,” it said rapidly. “Welcome to our planet. Your representative has given us a brief picture of your culture and assures us that you are not unfriendly. We will be glad to entertain you and show you anything that you wish to see. Your representative mentioned your need for expansion. You would find our planet completely unsuited to your purposes. However, we may be able to help you in finding other areas for colonization provided we have some assurance that you will not misuse them. You will be called upon in two hours by three of our representatives, who will escort you to our president’s house, where you will be quartered—housed, that is, of course, not drawn and quartered—and where we will try to answer your questions. We are in the meanwhile returning your representative.”
“Can you decode this one?” the captain asked Rob.
“Yes, sir. It’s an old code and an easy one. Bill evidently learned it as a scout or something and those birds—those birds is right—picked it up from him in no time flat, including our language, even to being able to pun in it. This is no backwards civilization, Captain!” He handed the captain the decoded message.
“Six of us will go,” the captain said. “And six stay with the ship.” He smiled at Rob. “Count yourself in.”
The ingress bell rang and the captain bent quickly to the screen. “It’s Bill,” he said. He and Rob ran quickly to the inner hatch and were standing there when Bill emerged, red in the face and rather ruffled. He grinned at them and tried to look nonchalant.
“I think you’ve lost your bet,” he said to Rob. “Captain Chris, sir, they picked my mind. They communicate by a kind of telepathy that’s in shorthand. What takes us half an hour to think takes them half a minute. I’ll bet you the reason we couldn’t decode any of their messages is that their shorthand’s too damned short for us.” He spoke breathlessly, as though he had been running. “They made me think faster than I’ve ever thought in my life,” he explained. “My mind is reeling. I suspect I might catch on to it eventually, not thinking as fast as they do, but thinking a lot faster than I’m used to. You know how fast you can run if something’s after you and your life depends on your speed? Much faster than you can under any normal circumstances. That’s what my mind was doing. May I have some water, sir? There is water on the planet and it’s pure, or at any rate they said they could purify it for us so we could replenish our tanks, so if it’s all right, sir, I’d like a pitcher.”
“Calm down, Bill. Come along, let’s sit down. I’ll order the water.”
“Sir, I don’t mean to be difficult, but could it be just with you and young Rob here for a few minutes? I seem to be rather exhausted.”
“Would you like to rest?”
“No, sir, I’d like to talk. But at this point I don’t know what’s going to spill out or how, and until I get my mind organized again, I’d rather keep it semi-private at any rate.”
They went to the tiny hole that was the captain’s cabin. Bill thirstily drank glass after glass of water, offering it to the captain and Rob, then drinking it himself. “They’re about two billion years beyond us,” he said. “They’ve evolved in the form of birds, rather like enormous sparrows, but they have highly developed hands as well as wings. No houses. Just strange, indescribable things, very beautiful, with sort of perches. Of course birds, even civilized ones, wouldn’t be comfortable in chairs or beds, would they? A great interest in the mind. My God, with minds like that I should think they would, but they explained that their minds evolving to such a point has only been in the last million years. Wonderful schools they have, and libraries, and theatres and concert halls. Their libraries seem to be the things they’re proudest of, though. A complete recording of everything that’s been written for the past two billion years. Two billion, sir. The library I saw was tremendous, and yet almost everything is in this terrific shorthand. Some of the earlier books aren’t. Their earliest books, they said, are in a language that moved at about the speed of ours. No churches, Rob. I asked them. They didn’t seem to understand what a church was.”
There was a knock and a young lieutenant said, “There’s a message coming in at the communications center, sir.”
“Go get it, Rob,” the captain ordered.
The message was again in Morse code. “Perhaps it would be of interest to you to see if you can decode some of our earlier languages which are more in tempo with yours. We still have one book in current use today—it is, in fact, our most used book—which dates back to the older languages and which, therefore, you may be able to decode. If you will have your representative wait outside your ship, we will send a messenger with a copy. In this book are many of the precepts by which we live and it may aid you in an understanding of our culture. It is very tiring to us to go back to archaic forms of communication, so a small amount of pre-knowledge on your part may prove helpful to us all.”
It was a large book that Bill brought him, carrying it gingerly, and in a kind of hieroglyphic-like bird trackings that at first made absolutely no sense to him. Finally he began to find a pattern in the strange markings, and with a sense of excitement realized that it was written in a language that, while it was completely unknown, was no more alien to his own than Chinese or Russian.
Bill came in and leaned over his shoulder.
“Go away,” Rob muttered. “I’m getting it.”
“You’re sweating,” Bill said. “Take a five-minute breather. That’s doctor’s orders.”
Rob raised his head and realized that he was indeed sweating and that his hands were shaking. “Something about this language,” he said. “It seems to make my mind work faster. Or maybe that’s just because you put it into my head that I’m getting it, Bill. I’m getting letters and words.”
“What’s it mean?”
“Give me time, man! Give me time!”
Bill looked at the strange markings. “A book they’ve been using for billions of years. Quite a thing. By the way, Rob, sorry about your bet.”
“I haven’t lost it yet,” Rob said stubbornly.
“No? A race as highly developed as theirs and no churches and you’re still a Godder. Where’s your sign, Rob? You were supposed to receive a sign.”
“Five minutes is up,” Rob said. “Let me get back to work.”
“Five minutes is not up. But go ahead. Like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, I would. Good and strong. I work better on tea than coffee.” He bent over the pages again. He was chewing his pencil, making occasional excited markings, when Bill himself came in with the cup of tea. Not even saying thank you, Rob drank half of it, then began to write rapidly. Suddenly he let out a shout.
“Got it?” Bill asked eagerly.
And Rob read, “‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’”
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About the Author
MADELEINE L’ENGLE wrote more than sixty books, including the classic A Wrinkle in Time. Born in New York City in 1918, L’Engle was educated in Switzerland, South Carolina, and Massachusetts. She moved back to New York City hoping to become a playwright, but her career as a bestselling novelist took off after an editor read a short story of hers—“Summer Camp”—in a magazine and asked if she was working on a novel. L’Engle wrote fiction and nonfiction for adults, as well as poetry. She died in 2007.
Also by Madeleine L’Engle
Fiction
The Joys of Love
Certain Women
The Small Rain
Ilsa
A Winter’s Love
The Love Letters
The Other Side of the Sun
A Severed Wasp
A Live Coal in the Sea
Children’s
Time Quintet
A Wrinkle in Time
A Wind in the Door
A Swiftly Tilting Planet
Many Waters
An Acceptable Time
The Austin Family
Meet the Austins
The Moon by Night
The Young Unicorns
A Ring of Endless Light
Troubling a Star
The O’Keefe Family
The Arm of the Starfish
Dragons in the Water
A House Like a Lotus
Nonfiction
Walking on Water
A Circle of Quiet
The Summer of the
Great-Grandmother
The Irrational Season
Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage
Reading Group Guide
Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughter, Charlotte Jones Voiklis, pieced together this story collection from papers tucked away in loose-leaf binders and old manuscript boxes. The stories were safeguarded in L’Engle’s “Ivory Tower,” until now. Which story resonated with you most as a reader? Why? How does this collection compare to L’Engle’s other adult works?
Most of the stories brought together in The Moment of Tenderness are autobiographical in nature, written by L’Engle when she was an aspiring playwright and novelist: “One doesn’t have to be familiar with Madeleine’s biography to enjoy them, but it does add a layer of interest and understanding to know that her childhood was marked by loneliness, that her adolescence was spent in the South, that she was an actress and a published writer before she married, and that her early years of motherhood were also years that she described as being a decade of intellectual isolation and professional rejection.” Knowing the acclaim L’Engle achieved later on in life as a writer—especially through the publication of A Wrinkle in Time—what themes explored in this collection teach you about drive, perseverance, insecurity, and internal and external validation? What is your definition of success?
In reading and assembling these stories, L’Engle’s granddaughter realized that L’Engle experienced profound sadness during her lifetime. This is a powerful, relatable moment: when a child or grandchild realizes, for the first time, that the relatives who came before her had their own dreams and struggles. What does Charlotte’s realization teach us about discovery and understanding? Have you ever discovered something about a family member that radically altered how you perceived them?
In “The Birthday,” circumstances force Cecily to learn about autonomy and independence. Do you remember the moment you first realized your own selfhood? Was this moment empowering? Do you feel Cecily’s story had a happy ending?
In “The Mountains Shall Stand Forever,” Ellen is pressured by the headmisstress, Miss Hubert, into revealing the bullying she experiences at the hands of her schoolmates. Miss Hubert, to Ellen’s detriment, responds in a way that exposes Ellen to even more cruel behavior. How does this story speak to the often unfair treatment experienced by victims and other whistleblowers? What, in your opinion, are the greatest consequences of confronting injustice?
In “Summer Camp,” Lise and Miss Benson bond by sharing their personal grievances. What did you think of Lise’s refusal to shake Miss Benson’s hand when she left the pond?
In “Madame, Or…,” Madame Septmoncel, speaking to Nancy’s brother, says, “We tend to forget, in our feministic and emancipated world, that a woman is more than a voter, a stockholder, a highly paid executive. She should also be a work of art. She must have the ability to excite and surprise, to give pleasure and to exert over us a charm that has both sweetness and strength. Otherwise, regardless of her position or bank account, she has failed as a woman.” How does this idea compare to today’s standards for women? Do you feel societal expectations for women are similar or different? Does this statement complement or conflict with your ideals of femininity? Explain.
In “Madame, Or…,” Nancy is asked about marriage and children. Doesn’t she, like “normal” women, want a family? She replies, “Am I a normal woman? Or do normal women really want these things? Isn’t it something we’ve been made to think we want simply for the preservation of the species?” Do you agree or disagree with this statement?
Charlotte Jones Voiklis discovered that “Prelude to the First Night Alone” was based on an actual event in her grandmother’s life—the breakup of a friendship that had meant a great deal to her. In the story, L’Engle recasts herself as the character Paul. Why? How have you healed from the breakup of a friendship or partnership?
In “Please Wear Your Rubbers,” Vicky desperately tries to land herself an acting role in New York City. When she isn’t hired for a part, she decides to spend her remaining money at the Algonquin Hotel on room service and decadent accommodations. What do you think pushed Vicky to make this reckless decision? Was it ambition? Optimism? Sibling rivalry? Or something else entirely?
In “Julio at the Party,” Rebecca tries to defuse the escalating tension between Walter and Julio. How comfortable are you with confrontation, and how important, generally speaking, do you feel it is to either engage or avoid conflict?
What do you think of the mother-daughter dynamic between Angel and Amy in “The Foreign Agent”? In your opinion, why does Angel insist on treating Amy like a much younger child? Why is the character of Roscoe the impetus behind each woman’s decision to work against the other?
In “The Moment of Tenderness,” Stella tries to convince herself that she is not in love with Steve, her children’s doctor: “It is not love I want from him, just those little moments of tenderness.” But what is love if not a collection of tender moments? How did you feel when Steve and Stella came to the mutual decision that they should love one another from afar?
In “The Foreigners,” the narrator is named Madeleine. Knowing what you do about L’Engle’s life when she wrote the story, what do you think of the story’s title? What does it make you think about the story’s last line: “But where, after we have made the great decision to leave the security of childhood and move on into the vastness of maturity, does anybody ever feel completely at home?”
Appearances can be deceiving. In “The Fact of the Matter,” did you feel L’Engle’s blend of fantasy and magical realism was effective in bringing this concept to life?
In “Poor Little Saturday,” as the narrator gets to know the witch woman, he perceives her to be a healer, an alchemist, a scientist. He describes her as “the most extraordinary woman [he] had ever seen…[with] no marks of age on her face.” When the witch woman is captured by “insensitive men,” however, her appearance changes: “It wasn’t the witch woman, my witch woman. It was their idea of a witch woman—someone thousands of years old, a disheveled old creature in rusty black, with long wisps of grey hair, a hooked nose, and four wiry black hairs springing out of the mole on her chin.” How is the witch woman’s physical transformation symbolic of the ignorance and projection that has characterized witch hunts throughout hist
ory?
In “That Which Is Left,” Martin returns to his childhood home and is horrified to find his parents’ physical and mental states rapidly deteriorating. He takes the role reversal badly and flees the house at the first opportunity. In your own life, how have you dealt with the aging of a beloved parent? In the story, did you empathize more with Matilda or Martin?
In “A Sign for a Sparrow,” L’Engle imagines a post-apocalyptic world and offers a vision of the skills and tools that might be necessary for rebuilding. What skills and tools do you think would be important for creating and maintaining a sustainable world?
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