Wake

“The entire planet,” A

“See, Caitlin, until 1968, no human being had ever seen our world as a sphere floating in space like that.” A

Caitlin continued to look at the image.

When A

“…awe inspiring.”

Caitlin frowned as she studied the image. It wasn’t a perfect circle. Rather it was — ah! It was showing a phase, and not like one-fourth of a pie! It was … what was the term? It was a gibbous Earth, that was it — better than three-quarters full.

“The equator is right in the middle, of course,” said A

Caitlin couldn’t parse the details A

“It is impressive,” Caitlin said.

“That’s what all of us thought back then, when we first saw a picture like this. The three Apollo 8 astronauts, of course, saw this sort of view before anyone else did, and they were so moved by it while they orbited the moon that they surprised the entire world on December twenty-fourth with — well … here, let me find it.” Caitlin saw A

Another URL appeared in Caitlin’s instant-messenger window, and she clicked it. After a couple of seconds of perfect silence, she heard a static-filled recording of a man’s voice coming through the computer speakers: “We are now approaching lunar sunrise and, for all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo8 has a message that we would like to send to you.”

“That’s Bill Anders,” A

The astronaut spoke again, his voice reverent, and, as he talked, Caitlin stared at the picture, at the swirling whiteness of the clouds, at the deep hypnotic blue of the water. “‘In the begi

Caitlin had only ever read a little of the Bible, but she liked that image: a birth, a creation, starting with the dividing of one thing from another. She continued to look at the picture, discerning more detail in it moment by moment — knowing that the phantom was looking on, too, seeing the Earth from space for the first time as well.

A

Lovell’s voice was deeper than that of the first astronaut. “‘And God called the light Day,’” he said, “‘and the darkness he called Night.’” Caitlin looked at the curving line separating the illuminated part of the globe from the black part.

“‘And the evening and the morning were the first day,’” continued Lovell.

“‘And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.’”

A

A new voice came from the speakers: “‘And God said, Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.’” Caitlin kept looking at the picture, trying to take it all in, trying to see it as a single thing, trying to hold her gaze steady for the phantom.

Borman paused for a moment, then added, “And from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you — all of you on the good Earth.”

“‘All of you,’” A

“Fragile,” said Caitlin, softly.

A

They were both quiet for a time, and then A

“Actually,” Caitlin said, “I think you just did.” She said good-bye and terminated the videoconference. But the picture of the Earth, in all its glory, continued to fill her monitor.

Of course, from space you couldn’t see the fiber-optic lines; you couldn’t see the coaxial cables; you couldn’t see the computers.

And neither could you see roadways. Or cities. Or even the Great Wall of China, Caitlin knew, despite the urban legend to the contrary.

You couldn’t see the components of the World Wide Web. And you couldn’t see the constructs of humanity.

All you could see was—

What had that astronaut called it?

Ah, yes: the good Earth.

This view was the real face of humanity — and of the phantom, too. The good Earth; their — our! — joint home.

The whole wide world.

She opened her instant-messenger client and co

I gathered that Prime was focusing on this image for my benefit, and I was thrilled, but—

Puzzlement.

A circle, except not quite — or, if it was a circle, parts of it were the same black as the background.

That’s who you are.

This circle? No, no. How could a circle of blotchy color be me?

Ah, perhaps it was symbolic! A circle: the line that folds back upon itself, a line that encompasses a space. Yes, a good symbol for oneness, for unity. But why the colors, the complex shapes?