It was nearing 6:00 P.M. as I walked into the well-lit office. Aron approached with his hand waving, in a sort of exalted manner. With one last remembrance of how out-of-place I must have looked, I raised my hand in reciprocal greeting.
After the warm handshake and introduction, Aron motioned me to a chair at the end of the table. He sat down across from me. The ambience begged to be heard. Soft music emanated from everywhere and was so rich and wholesome it could have almost been eaten.
Aron began . . . ‘Ken, you are the answer to the perpetuation of an Infinite game of currently twelve individuals who somehow show up at this venue periodically to advance what this game gives us.’
He continued; ‘Very much like a personal jazz tune, we all participate but at different times. There’s no musical score, just a magical flowing melody of sorts which we all add to, via solos, when we are directed.’
My hands were in front of me with my fingers interlocked. I wondered for a second if I should adjust them so Aron could not see the hole in one of the cuffs. I imperceptibly began to understand that insignificant issues should be ignored.
I had no idea that all things were insignificant.
– – – – – tomorrow – – – – –
The Infinite 