Harmony

(continued)

By Mark Joseph Kiewlak

"Thanks for coming with me, Mom."

The crowds were beginning to gather, in every neighborhood, all around the world. Candles were held high. Michael stared up at the thirty foot high video screens that lined the walls of the great dome on every side. There were already thousands of people milling about and more filing in each moment. At least his mother understood. This thing was meant to be a family event.

She held his hand tightly, lest one of them be carried away to the other side of the dome. "I don't like this," she said. "It's hot in here and pretty scary. Can we go out into the street?"

"Sure," Michael said. He was just glad that one of his parents was with him.

Scream Night was one of those rare events meant to unite the world. In the past, most such events had been brought about as tragedies, when the fear of extinction, the notion that Humanity's path had taken a downward turn, had caused a widespread event to manifest -- a war, a plague, a global energy crisis or natural disaster. Scream Night was supposed to be different. An outlet. A time designated to stand among one's fellow man and shout to the world all our dismay and distrust, all frustrations emptied in a single vocal burst meant to cleanse the emotional palette. Michael thought it was a cool idea, and something he desperately needed. His scream would be directed primarily at his father.

As the night air touched her, Willow smiled at her son. "I'm proud of what you've accomplished with your life. The harmony of your soul. You're a kind person. And you know yourself well."

Michael had his guard up against such praise. "Most of the time," he said.

"Your father feels the same way about you. He's just as proud."

Maybe this was a bad idea, Michael thought. He didn't want to be naked in front of everyone. Every human emotion was in play around him. He scanned the faces, the gestures of every passerby. Those open to experience were excited. Others had been dragged here, though of course nothing really occurred against our will. Michael wondered why this barrier existed between he and his father. The idea of love between them was simply shattering, a vulnerability that neither felt they could tolerate. It robbed too much of their pain. Michael had always concentrated on living the moment itself, while his father concentrated on dissecting it. There seemed no middle ground upon which they could meet.

A momentum was gathering now. Although there was no official hour, no chosen moment designated when the scream would actually occur, it was thought that once enough people had gathered, the energy of the event would take its own course. They would scream when they were ready.

Michael and his mother were strolling along the riverbank. The water was crystalline, aglow with moonlight. The last few decades had returned a purer beauty to us, and it added patience to the soul every time it was observed. Michael felt that he could wait a little longer to scream.

"Would you rather be somewhere else?" Willow said.

His mother was smiling again and she was truly beautiful. An anger flared up, directed at his father. Nothing should ever be wasted, yet every time his father focused away from his family, her beauty went unnoticed. This was as terrible a sin as anyone committed these days, but for Michael this evolution still was not enough. He had to remind himself that harmony wasn't about a forceful compression of our being into a preconceived paradisiacal shape. It was allowing the shape to take its own form, or no form at all.

"We have to go home," Michael said. "I have to talk to Dad."

Not by chance had Gene stumbled across a broadcast of the worldwide Scream Night festivities. Coverage of the event was on every channel, every wavelength of perception currently employed. Gene felt embarrassment over his ignorance of this event. A caveman would know of it, but he had not. The technology of the present allowed for multiform, multisense inundation. Gene immersed himself in the images, the sights, sounds, and smells. It was worthy of study, but more to the point Gene felt as if by participating in this limited way he was somehow rectifying his earlier behavior toward his son. He wanted so badly to share in Michael's existence. But he had never found a way in. The boy was so ultra-sensitive, so attuned to beauty and perfection, that Gene felt as if he would always say or do the wrong thing in his son's presence, and so he had stopped really trying. It was far easier to study the theory than to live it.

Gene began to feel a commotion arising worldwide among the participants of Scream Night. Each individual, in concentrating upon their upcoming catharsis, was contributing a minute portion of their soul's pain to this greater whole, feeling a union with others, sharing their grief. The event was taking shape in a way no one had anticipated. For the first time in his life Gene felt truly connected to his fellow man. The emotion receptors were registering a buildup to a never before achieved pitch. Even those not directly involved were still being fed the thought-energy of the people closest to them, and so became mirrors for a greater universal truth --all humanity in agreement that pain was pain, and that, in order to truly evolve, mankind must learn to embrace the inherent goodness of their essential being, not so that they could win the battle with themselves, but so that they could realize that there was no battle, that nothing could hurt us if we didn't let it.

And then, all at once, everywhere across the world, everyone began, not to scream, but to cry.

Billions of people willingly shed their anguish, the tears flowing directly from their hearts.

And Gene, as always, went to work immediately, analyzing the data. He was sure that the key to the Harmony Theory was just one intuitive leap away.

He was still wired to the emotion receptors, but the feelings of the world had become mere background noise. An equation was forming in his mind. Something that could bring it all together. He was getting closer, closer. He was almost there.

Gene heard a knock at the door and recognized his son's voice. "Dad, do you have a minute?"

The shape upon which he was concentrating was elusive, like an image seen among the shifting clouds. If Gene turned away even for an instant he knew it would be lost forever.

"Dad? I know there's a lot going on in the world right now, but I needed to come home to tell you something. I needed to do it right now, because I might not be able to do it later. I don't know how long my courage will last."

Gene could see it beginning to form. He knew that his life's work was mere seconds from realization. He would unlock the key that would end all suffering and put Mankind forever upon the path to total unity and brotherhood. Everlasting peace.

"Dad?"

Gene turned away from the computer screen. It was the easiest decision he had ever made. His son was talking.

"What is it, Michael?"

"I just wanted to say that I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, son."

And behind Gene's back, unseen and unrecorded, the harmony readings went off the chart.