Excerpt from Galactica:

Chapter 4

Pulling the car back into the driveway of the house, I recognized a familiar face standing at my doorstep. The mailman sent me a friendly smile before getting on his bike and riding to the next house. Curious about the contents of my mailbox, I let the engine die, opening the door while eyeing the front porch. I felt myself suddenly transferred back to my childhood, when every new, unexpected turn of the occurring of a day had been just as exciting as Christmas Eve. The expectations had grown so big that nothing was impossible. Everything was possible again. My fantasy went wild, taking my adult self on this exciting ride through the moving picture of my dearest dreams and wishes. But only when I had reached my porch, opened the door, and rushed through the mail that had fallen on the floor after being shoved through the hole—bills, official letters, and advertisements, nothing unusual at all—and upon realizing that I was, in fact, disappointed, did I realize that I actually had been expecting something. And I knew just too well what that was. Or did I? “Meow, meow.” I felt warm, soft fur slide along my legs and reached down with one hand to move my fingers through the thick, long red-brown hairs of Minnie, the stray cat I had taken care of while her former owner, a homeless woman who had suddenly and unexpectedly disappeared from the face of the earth, had been “on vacation,” as she had put it. But she had never come back and I did not know of any relatives or family, and the cat had so gratefully adapted to her new home and her new family that it was already impossible to imagine life without her. “You are hungry, aren’t you?” She had probably just come in through her cat door that the handyman had installed in the wall next to the entry door just this week, and she still seemed quite satisfied with that recent change, which made her life even more convenient and independent. Minnie was used to being as free as a bird and had had the hardest time adapting to such an ordered life as she found with me—compared, of course, to her life on the streets. Although I spent most of my days working in the big garden that opened up in the back of the house, which was surrounded by wild fields of fern grass that danced in the constant breeze that came from the nearby sea, the cat still felt the unease of any being used to living under the clear sky of nature. “Good morning! What are you doing up and about so early? Did I miss something?” Paul, who had come down the stairs from his bedroom on the second floor opposite my own room, which was divided by the long hallway and the small second kitchen, greeted me with a mocking smile, hinting nonchalantly at the factual existence of my most obvious flaw, as he had once put it. “Hello, sunshine!” With my fresh voice that brought with me the sun and the wind with all the magic of the breathtaking sunrise I had just witnessed, I didn’t allow myself to be affected by his grunginess. “Never underestimate people, I say. Change is always possible and you’ll be surprised how fast it can go! Sometimes it happens overnight. And then you suddenly find yourself with an entirely new person on your side, wondering how to live with all the new positive changes that came over her so suddenly.” Paul, still sleep-drunken, was not prepared for this burst of energy and liveliness; the only response he was capable of was a weak and unintentionally impressed smile. Suspiciously eyeballing me, he stepped past my crouched figure to get to the kitchen as I kept on petting the cat. It was not difficult to sense his confusion, although this confusion was not strong enough to penetrate his inner man, meaning his consciousness was not awake enough to take in such complex psychological changes

that overloaded, as he would have termed it, the mere physical left- wing reality in which he spent most of his existence. I decided to take my breakfast in the garden on the veranda. As I drank my coffee, my thoughts went off on their own again, and I remembered what had happened that day that Mike had come to court me with flowers and I had slammed the door in his face and run off to meet Alice. I still shivered with excitement when I thought about it. Everything came back to me so vividly: While walking hurriedly through the neighborhood streets, I had failed to pay attention to the sudden change of weather. Only when I noticed that I was hardly able to see more than five feet ahead had I become aware of the thick fog that surrounded me. Confused and surprised, I had tried to make out my way to my friend’s house, but as my eyes nervously searched for orientation, trying to locate the shapes or colors of familiar houses or big trees, I could not help but realize that I had absolutely no idea where I was. I reluctantly accepted the fact that I had lost my way in plain daylight in my own neighborhood, but before I even had time to get irritated or annoyed, my eyes caught sight of movement at about ten feet in front of me. At first I thought it must have been some kind of animal that had gotten lost while strolling through the household trash bins, which always attracted wild animals from the nearby forest due to their intense- smelling contents of food waste. Another movement to my right, this time much closer, made me change my mind. I was unable to make out any familiar shapes, but I was quite sure that the movement had been caused not by the wind, which had come up, as I noticed with a frightened shiver, but by some kind of foggy shadow, almost resembling a ghostly figure, which had disappeared before I could make out its nature. However, my quick mind did not allow me any thoughts or ideas of such unreasonable things as ghosts. Ghosts obviously didn’t exist; everyone knew that. I was not a child anymore who believed in fairy tales and monsters. Fighting against my increasing feelings of unease, I forced my feet to keep on walking straight ahead and ordered my mind to resume reasonable thinking. If I just continued walking in a straight line, I could not fail to bump into a house or car or at least a street. But the faster and more hurriedly I stumbled forward through the fog that enveloped me more and more densely, the more uneven the ground became. I could not see the ground underneath my feet anymore and could only guess that it was short grass I was walking on. When I stumbled over an obstacle that felt like a big stone and fell all the way flat on my stomach and face, I cried out in anger and despair. Crawling on my hands and knees, I did not even make an attempt to stand up again but let my body sit still on the earth, embracing my legs with my arms, which were covered with bruises and scratches. Had it gotten colder? Or was I just scared? My shivering body suddenly froze when my ears recognized a scream that made my bones stiff and caused my heart to lose a long beat, after which it continued to pump so hard and fast that for a moment I was afraid it might explode in my chest. The sound repeated itself over and over again, and after each repetition, it seemed less frightening to me. In fact, I believed I could make out the familiar cry of a dolphin, but of course this was not possible; the sea was miles away. But the longer I listened to the repetitious cry, the more I was convinced that it must be a dolphin, a sea creature. The train of thought was almost too frightening to be continued, because that would mean I had walked five miles in less than five minutes. It was not possible even if I had run the entire way. But that would also explain the rising wind— and now, relying more on other senses and less on my eyes, I thought I could hear the waves hitting softly against the shore. Gathering all my strength and courage, I stood up on my feet and kept on walking slowly, leaning into the increasingly strong blowing wind. Every step was a fight; tears rolled down my cheeks, my eyes burned, and my nose desperately tried to inhale some oxygen. I was now determined to find out where I was—and I didn’t have to wait long. Just as I thought of giving up and returning because the wind had become too strong, I saw the sea. I had come to the tip of a cliff that reached onto the shore, and I knew instantly where I was. There was a small path that led all the way down to the beach,

which I found easily after some searching. Carefully climbing down the path, which was covered with sand and stones, I sensed that the wind had gotten less intense; I could hear the dolphin’s cry and the waves better now, but at the same time more softly and distinctly. Even the fog had lightened up a little, and as I reached the last few steps down the cliff, I could discern a bridge that led from the beach right into the sea. Some supernatural magnetic force drew me to that bridge, which was only wide enough for one person. The full moon was now slightly visible, shining between the clouds and the fog as if trying to supportively shine me the way. Why was it all of a sudden night? How many hours had I been walking through the fog? Very carefully I took a step onto the bridge; nothing happened. It seemed like the wooden construction had been built by a handyman who knew what he was doing; my weight did not cause any vibration on the rest of the bridge. I went on, and as I reached the last step, I could see that the gangway led far out into the sea and continued until I could not see any further because the fog made my view impossible. The waves licking on the wooden supports of the gangway reflected the milky light of the moon in millions of silvery sparkles, and I could see a group of dolphins playing close to the shore. The crying had stopped now, and just occasionally a sob or a splash was audible. A sudden rush of peace, harmony, and hope came over me, and I felt that my feet were getting lighter with each step until I was almost dancing into the foggy light, which got more and more golden, and the contours around me shone in a penetrating way I had never seen before. The further I went, the warmer it got, and the thick humidity that had made my skin sweat before was now gone, replaced by comfortably mild, dry air that facilitated my breathing, cleared my nose, and gave my lungs their badly missed oxygen.