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This is a trick of some kind. It's not much different from the void I created; only instead of being stuck in a black universe, I'm caught in a white one. I fought my way out of that one and I'm certainly not letting any Q keep me confined any longer than I have to. I will beat him at his game!
Assuming my escape is inside my mind and not by some door hidden in the walls, I sit down in the middle of the room. This time, I'm not perturbed when my body becomes obscured halfway up my knees. I close my eyes and imagine myself outside the room. The scenery inside my mind shifts to a small field where there are trees nearby with birds flying overhead and animals ducking in and out of the forest to look curiously at me. Behind me, I can hear a creek.
Confident that my new universe is firmly in place, I open my eyes.
And am blinded by the whiteness of the room.
"Fine!" I exclaim, balling my hands into fists and standing up. I look toward the ceiling as if the high Q had gone in that direction. "I'm not going to give up that easily, Q!"
He doesn't reply, not that I expect him to. So I wander around the room, attempting to find the hidden door I'm sure is not there. The walls feel rough and my hands turn a purplish red as I pound against them. Still, I pummel every inch within my reach before giving up on that avenue.
As I attempt to think of a third option, I consider the differences between my current situation and the dark universe. I created the latter out of naivety, because I hadn't realized what was expected from me. This room was created purposely by another Q, though I'm not sure whether Q created it an hour ago or if it's been here for millions of years. Knowing something about the Q who created it could be essential to my solving its puzzle.
I'll assume the high Q created this white world. After all, he was the one who insisted we change into white clothing and he seemed to be the one who'd set up the meeting. What else have I learned about him in the short time since I met him? Over the past few years, I've gotten the impression from my Q that all Q consider themselves superior to other beings. Now I'm sensing this high Q believes himself superior to all other Q, hence my thinking of him as the "high Q." The other Q, at least the two in the meeting, seemed not to question his authority.
Although my Q had never mentioned their civil war to me, the high Q wanted me to know about it. Whether he told me as an attempt to scare me off or merely meant it as a history lesson, he never made clear. He told me that most Q don't like each other and that they often tolerate one another for the sake of keeping the Continuum together, that being the sole reason the war ended. He didn't offer his personal views of other Q straight, but I sensed he had little patients for either my Q or the other in the room. Otherwise, why would he send them both to a penalty box for a simple squabble?
Maybe I'm in a penalty box now and there is no escape.
And I've sent one Q to oblivion.
"No!" I scream. "What have I done wrong to deserve this? Who gave you the right to play god with our lives? If this is a penalty box you've left me in, then there is no escape. How can I be tested by something that has no solution? Answer me!"
Never have I met anyone as stubborn as a Q. Their tests consist of one game after another whom no one except the one who created it enjoys.
"I don't feel like playing this game." I sit back down on the floor, Indian style, intent on playing more stubborn than Q. "So I think I'll end it." I wave my arm in front of me as I've seen Q do whenever he uses his magic and a brilliant pattern of colors forms on the wall before me. Again, I stand and without hesitation, I walk through the wall.
Stepping onto a stage, I peer out at a huge crowd sitting in fold-out chairs. Some are clapping. Others are whistling with their fingers in their mouths. Despite their outward enthusiasm, I find it hard to believe they wish me well. If they truly want to see me become a Q, it is only for the sake of holding the Continuum together.
The high Q pops onto the stage a few meters from me. "Bravo! It takes a lot of stubbornness to become a Q." Before I can respond, he flashes back out.
"Hold the applause," I bellow out. My voice raises high above their raucous as though a hidden microphone is before me. "I don't want any false cheering." I scan the crowd, looking for my Q and not finding him, instantly fear for him. Is he still trapped inside a penalty box, or worse, cast off to oblivion? If he's being punished for wanting sincerely what these other Q mock, to cheer me on, then their entire race is a bunch of hypocrites. Why should I want to join their ranks?
I nearly turn my back on them when my Q pops into the front row, center seat. Smiling, he begins clapping and the sound of his palms smacking resound throughout the room.
Piano music fills the room although I see neither the instrument nor a speaker. Do they want me to sing and dance to it? If I'm expected to perform an impromptu act, will they laugh at my lack of talent? Data has given me a few violin lessons, but has never attempted to teach me to sing or dance.
I decide that trying to dance is safer and tap my feet against the hardwood floor. The beat of the music picks up and I wiggle my mid section and wave my arms around, knowing how silly I look. I'm not surprised when the Q break out into laughter. Yet I don't stop despite my own laughter. I take bigger steps, getting more into the rhythm as other instruments accompany the piano. Their laughter subsiding, the Q stare at me mesmerized by my performance. Can dancing really be this easy? I can't believe they are actually testing me on this. No one can dance his or her way into omniscience.
Just when I'm growing weary, the music stops as though some Q senses my feelings. I bow to the audience as I struggle to keep my knees from buckling underneath me. "Well, that was fun," I tell them, "but if that was your idea of a test, I hardly feel challenged."
"Boo!" members of the crowd exclaim while others hiss. I sense that they are more threatened than angered by my outburst. They don't like me, not to my surprise, but why are they, a group of omnipotent creatures, frightened by one mortal ten-year old girl? Unless their claims of omnipotence and omniscience are as false as the games they play. Are they not immortal as well?
"Silence!" I say, raising my arms to emphasize the demand. "I came here today to prove my worthiness as a member of the Continuum. I cannot do that if all you want to play are petty games. If I were the suspicious type, I'd say you were letting me perform this silly stage act to jeopardize my success. Except for Q, my Q, you don't know me. Might I ask that you not judge me on first sight?"
A female Q stands up and approaches me. With her nose practically in my face, she gives me a riddle. "How can I be? How can I not be? For what am I?"
I wonder this for a long moment, determined to answer correctly. I consider that she is referring to immortality, but disregard the notion when I remember how easily it was taken away from my Q once. But the answer must lie somewhere close to that. Perhaps she is not referring to a person.
"Answer the riddle," she says insistently.
"I'm thinking! Would you rather I give you an incorrect answer? My first inclination was to respond with immortality. However, I'm sure that's not right."
"Close, but no cigar."
What do cigars have to do with this riddle? I wonder. I refrain from asking, knowing it would only make me look stupid. I have a hint now, though, and begin to consider things closely related to immortality. Perpetual, which means everlasting, neverending. Then there are numbers that go on for infinity. Time never ends.
The female Q taps her foot loudly against the floor. She thinks the answer is so simple. Maybe I am approaching the solution from the wrong end. Maybe she is referring to my species, not hers. I am mortal. I will die someday. It's a difficult subject to think about. How can one go on forever? And how can one die?
"Death," I say, smiling.
"Wrong. You are as cold as ice," she says smugly. You have failed your first test." She turns away from me, heading off stage.
"Wait! Time or timelessness. Something that never ends. Something that's infinite like maybe the universe."
She glances over her shoulder. "You're grasping."
"The universe or rather universes they go on for eternity." Emphatically, I wave my arms. I know how desperate I sound and look, but my words have caused her to pause in midstep.
She turns and with a thin smile, says, "Yes, they do. Congratulations." She does not offer to shake my hand or pat me on the back and yet I feel as though I'm receiving the highest praise. Perhaps from a Q, I am.
Next, two young-looking Q step onto the stage. One produces a rubber ball and they begin passing it back and forth. I find this silly and even more so as they break into a rhyming song.
"I am who and he is what
How do you do? Laugh and it'll hit you in the gut.
They say you really want to be a Q.
You think it's so easy, but...
The one to my left leans forward, practically touching my nose and says, "Do you know how?"
"Oh please!" I exclaim, laughing.
He wiggles his finger. "Uh, uh, uh. I told you that kind of nonsense would get you in the gut."
"There's no how here. It's not necessary in the Continuum. You simply wave your arms and whatever you wish magically happens. Who is the Q and what is everything. How, I don't know how."
"You may never know with that attitude," the other responds. He throws the ball upward and it disappears. Shaking their heads, both leave the stage.
I'm a little confused, not knowing whether that exercise was too easy or if their was some hidden meaning I'm not seeing. Trying not to show this, I say to the crowd," Don't stay there bring on your next challenge." I'm exuding confidence, can feel if warmly my toes, fingers and face. Officer they view this as over zealousness or am I fitting in with their arrogant breed? I wish I knew which six were the judges and if they are watching me in the same manner I spied on Eric .
"You yearn for your next challenge ," a Q who looks at least a hundred by mortal standards says as he stands. He waves his arm, and I'm not surprised this time when the scenery changes. Standing in the middle of the field I imagined earlier, I'm joined only by the elder Q. "You think it's so simple becoming a Q." His acrid tone causes me to flinch. ."For every one who succeeds, countless millions fail miserably and live out a lowly existence. They serve as Q's minion. The more you try, the more you will fail."
"Ha! I've played along with your game so far. Your tests are nothing more than trickery. You design them that way, because you not only want to see every candidate fail; you want to frighten them and make them quit before they dig too far into your insidious minds. The Continuum doesn't prepare a legitimate entry test, because no Q takes an applicant seriously."
"You want a true test? Fine!" The elder Q flashes out and two seconds later, the ground beneath me begins shaking. I dance around, trying to avoid the enlarging cracks, but before long, lose my balance and fall through one. Screaming, I imagine there's no end, not by a physical means anyway. I must imagine my way out of this hell. With all the determination I can gather, I wave both arms about and form a Q-flash around me. Wishing myself back onto the stage, I pop back in front of the crowd.
My Q appears beside me. "I told you, Q. She knows how to perform a simple Q-flash. If you want to defeat her, you'll have to do better than that. She's already proven her way out of a penalty box, answered your silly riddles and created a universe. What more must you ask of her to prove her worthiness?"
The crowd breaks out into laughter as though that is the most ludicrous speech they've ever heard. "Enough!" the high Q bellows as he floats onto the stage. "Forgive their mockery, child. They are jealous. If it were another on the center stage, their behavior would be no different. The judges have reached a decision. I being one of them will introduce the other five." Two females and three males stand up and walk onto the stage. I expected a venerable group on the judging panel, but none of them appear much older than my brother, Alexander, with the exception of the high Q. As each passes us to stand on my left, he announces their names and they nod their acknowledgment at me. "This is Q, Q, Q, Q, and Q."
The crowd claps and cheers for about five seconds and then falls silent once again.
I nearly moan at the absurdity of the introduction when the subtly different inflections of each pronunciation dawns on me. That's how they tell one another apart, I realize. The average mortal would never hear this and until now, neither had I.
"Greetings," I say, bowing to them.
"Oh please! You sound like an Akodian,"my Q says. I turn my head to glare at hm. He folds his arms and shrugs. "Any respectable Q would offer a 'how do you do?'"
"Leave the Akodians out of this!" someone shouts from the audience. As others boo and hiss, I suddenly realize they're threatened by the Akodians rising power in the universe.
"Silence!" the high Q bellows.
"Thanks for the advice," I respond tonelessly to my Q. Is he no longer on my side, because the judges are about to fail me? Or is he directing animosity toward me, because he now views me as another Q, someone to argue with? Returning my attention to the high Q, I say, "How do you do? And how did I do?"
"I am the final judge," he tells me and lifts his hand toward his fellow panel members. "You will fair better asking Q first."
"All right." I turn toward the younger Q and pause to think, making sure I get the inflection perfect. "Q?"
"Satisfactory," the first Q replies.
"Undeniably," says the second without a prompting.
"Without a doubt, the most incredible performance I've witnessed from a being not yet a Q. Why she may one day prove her ability among--"
"Oh, you're always so verbose, Q," my Q interrupts. Although he must be right, I suspect my Q has stopped the third not only from breaking into a long speech, but from providing me with confidential information as well. Who might I one day prove myself among?
"Good," the third Q modifies.
The fourth turns to the last and says, "whatever Q decides goes for me." He takes a step back and crosses his arms in front of his mid-section. Getting the impression that he thinks of himself as a lesser Q, I wonder why he was selected for the judges panel.
The fifth Q looks directly at the high Q, her brown eyes deepening toward a black hue. "If we allow her into the Continuum, she will only make trouble as Q has. Only a fine strand binds the multiverse now as it is."
She is referring to my Q. Like me, has he always been the one getting into trouble with his people? And what does the fifth judge mean when she refers to the binding of the multiverse? The Q must think of themselves as gods.
"Perhaps she will prove no better than Q," the high Q responds.
"I'm insulted," my Q mutters, but his response goes unacknowledged.
"That is precisely why I've decided to give her a probationary membership inside the Continuum of one-thousand years." He looks to me, eyebrows furrowing. "Foul up and your existence will become as extraordinary as a Klingon mud fly."
"I understand and thank you for the opportunity to prove myself."
Members of the audience break out into laughter, giving me a sense of doom. What have I gotten myself into?
All six judges nod in synchrony and respond, "You're welcome, Q ". One by one each Q vanishes inside a Q-flash, first the audience and then the judges, until I am left with only my Q .
"A thousand years!" I exclaim. "How can anyone stay out of trouble for that long?"
"You are lucky. My probationary period was much longer." He takes a couple steps away from me as though he is scanning the empty room. "Where would you like to go now? You can return to Mommy and Daddy, if you like?"
"What!? I thought I was supposed to remain in the Continuum."
He laughs. "Remain in the Continuum! No self-respecting Q stays here for very long at a time. How else do you explain my ability to come to you whenever I please. You are free to come and go as you choose, so long as you follow the rules."
"What are the rules?"
"I'm afraid you will have to figure them out for yourself." Before I can inquire further, he disappears in a Q-flash.
Return home, I muse. Why not? I, too, let the Q-flash take me away from the Continuum.
