THE CYANOROD

THE CYANOROD

By Forrest Wayne Schultz

     This morning I received a call from a lawyer informing me that I was the heir of Mr. Sam Jones, a man I had never heard of, who had lived near Jonesville, a town I had never heard of. The estate consists of a beautiful historic country house (and the 100 acres of woodland in which it is nestled) plus a hefty stock portfolio plus a brand new BMW!

     The will contains no explanation as to why I am the designated heir nor does the lawyer have any idea. After I signed the pertinent documents transferring the estate into my name, I got into my brand new BMW to head out to my country estate where I was greeted by John and Joan Trimble, the couple who does the housekeeping and building & grounds work.

     I was favorably impressed with the Trimbles, especially concerning the excellent job they have been doing keeping everything in tip top shape. But they were unable to give me any idea of why Sam Jones had named me as his heir. Since almost all of their work is routine, their contact with Jones had been minimal, so that they never got to know him very well. All they could tell me was that he had been a recluse and that every day he took a long walk in the woods and spent the rest of the day holed up in his study with its large library of old books.

     Of all the places on the estate to look for the answer to my question it appeared that the study was the most promising. Its book case contained the books he had been reading, the desk contained his files, and the computer on his desk may hold some secrets, though he did not use it much.

     While trying to decide where to start my investigations, I noticed hanging on the wall an exquisite painting of an unusual medallion: its center depicted (clad in shiny silver armor and ready for battle) a valiant knight whose right hand (fisted and placed upon his heart as a sign of submission to his king) held a very small brilliant bluish-green rod, which was the focal point of the painting. Since the knight was grasping this Cyanorod as as though it were his sword, it appeared that he was about to wield it as his weapon. As I was pondering this anomaly, the painting changed into a three-dimensional holographic projection with the Cyanorod extended in my direction beckoning me to pick it up and wrap the palm of my right hand around it.

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     As soon as I palmed the Cyanorod I was transported into another world in a manner that was no different than walking out of one room and into another. There was absolutely no sound at all, no flashing lights, no shimmering air, no "woo woo" music in the background or any of the other phenomena associated with such a thing in the popular fantasy literature and films. The mage who did this – if mage it was – is clearly a very sophisticated one, not like the childish ones who add in all the extraneous stuff!
     Upon my arrival in this new world I was told to insert the tip of the Cyanorod into a small recess in the center of a circle on the wall in front of me and to hold it there until it popped out, which took exactly 1.618 seconds. I then palmed the Cyanorod, was told "well done", and was returned to the study, whereupon I re-inserted the Cyanorod into the hologram, which then collapsed back into the painting on the wall.

     I was not told why this happened or what the Cyanorod did. Maybe I saved a planet or a galaxy or an alternate universe or something. Who knows? But I DO know that I did the right thing, and that is what is really important.



October 10, 2010

Grantville, Georgia

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