The Connection. He would never be alone again?


The conclusion of a two-part short story by FCEtier:

Last day of month 6: year 3917

Primum’s parents were sitting alone in their reading room.

She had been absorbing the most recent best selling novel via the latest osmosis technology. She chose to interrupt her escape and speak to her husband, “It’s hard to believe we can enjoy books now without actually reading.”

He was lost in thought and replied, “He would have been a teenager today.”

She disconnected from her o-reading device and clasped her hands on her lap. She messaged him telepathically, “You never adjusted to not having a person you can touch and see.”

“I’d rather hear you speak out loud.”

“You’re an anachronism. You never progressed out of the thirtieth century,” she said with no sympathy in her voice.

“Two thousand years ago, our ancestors greeted their sons with a baseball glove. Don’t you remember reading stories about men placing a first baseman’s mitt into the cradle next to their infant son?”

“Our offspring was androgynous. You never got over that either.”

“Must you always refer to him as our ‘offspring?’”


“I’ll stop saying ‘offspring’ when you stop using the male gender references.”


“Okay, truce.”

“Are you still in touch with him—er, Primum?”

“You still can’t experience the presence?”

“Not the way you describe.”

“This is no longer unique. It’s been thirteen years. Estimates of the number of deliveries with no physical body range into the millions worldwide. We aren’t alone, and neither is Primum. Says you aren’t available or receptive. You’re unapproachable.”

“I did a global search yesterday and discovered an appropriate term used over two millennia ago, ‘generation gap’.”

“You are an anachronism!”

“Also found another even more relevant, ‘seance.’”

“If you think that’s relevant then you’re beyond help. The only way you’ll ever connect with Primum is if you let go. Open your mind. Let our only child feel your love. Forget anything physical.” She reconnected to her book and ignored her husband for the rest of the evening.

He took a sedative and hoped for a dream in which he would at long last be with his son.

Last day of month 3: year 3925

He held his wife’s hand with both of his. Her breathing was laborious and painful. Her attending physician watched by video monitor and read her vital signs electronically. She grasped his hand tighter. They both knew the end was near.

“Do you sense that Primum is near you?” he asked.

It seemed as though long minutes passed while her eyes opened and focused on her husband.

She smiled for a second or two and her eyes lit up just as they had when she announced her pregnancy. “Yes,” she replied aloud. Then she continued in silence as she sensed a connection with both her husband and Primum. “Primum is near and we’re connected. I wish the two of you could connect. My dearest husband, our child wants to communicate with his father.”

“You referred to Primus in the masculine gender.”

“I knew it would please you,” she replied.

“In time, my darling, in time. It appears as though you are making the transition with ease, if you’re in touch with me and Primum.”

“I never knew what to expect,” she said, “It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t leave me,” he lamented.

“No, never, I’ll always be here and try to connect with you,” she said, again, in silence. She knew he heard, and then her hand relaxed.

The fade to black seemed as though it took hours for his eyes to close.

He squeezed them shut.

A tear rolled down his elongated cheek.

She lay motionless before him.

Her husband lifted his gaze up towards the video monitor and saw the doctor’s grim expression. The physician said, “Her body is finished.”

“But her life force?”

“Time will tell. She said she was in touch with your child?”

“Yes. Our child would be in his twenties now.”

“One of my associates will join you now. Step away from the gurney and we will manage your wife’s body now.”

A moment later, the entrance to the room opened and a white-clad professional entered on a personal transportation vehicle. It was a woman. She shook hands with the man.

“We all share in your grief and hope that you will be able to connect with your wife’s life force.”

He nodded in agreement.“I’ll need help.”

“That’s why they sent me. My assignment is to help you connect. Did your wife convey any last minute desires or wishes?”

He hesitated. “They’re private.”

‘I understand. Did she suggest you visit a special place, somewhere important to the two of you?”

The next night, 2200 hours:

He used his personal transportation vehicle to ascend the mountain near his home. It was a spot that he and his wife had enjoyed visiting often. They would sit together and watch sunsets, sometimes, sunrises. The weather was as unpredictable and yet as cyclical as it had been for eons. Tonight, the skies were as clear as he had ever seen them. There were no clouds.

He thought to himself, In the middle of the night, miles away from the closest person, it’s easy to think I’m all alone. Standing here looking at this view, it’s hard to believe I am not….alone.

Moments later, he became aware of the presence of a life force.

He sat on a rock.

He closed his eyes, relaxed, and waited. I cannot think of anything else to do. Must be receptive.

Moments later, for their first time, father and progeny connected.

The message to the father arrived in the form of a baritone, masculine voice.

“Here’s an ancient quote for my favorite anachronistic being, ‘Love is the most important thing in the world, but baseball is pretty good, too,’ from Yogi Berra.”


Please click the book cover image below to read more about FCEtier and his novels.

Summer Shoot

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