And we're not alone, you know, children," came
Mrs. Whatsit, the comforter. "All through the universe it's
being fought, all through the cosmos, and my, but it's a grand
and exciting battle. I know it's hard for you to understand about
size, how there's very little difference in the size of the tiniest
microbe and the greatest galaxy. You think about that, and maybe it
won't seem strange to you that some of our very best fighters have
come right from your own planet, and it's a little planet, dears,
out on the edge of a little galaxy. You can be proud that it's done so well.
"Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked.
"Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs. Whatsit said.
Mrs. Who's Who's spectacles shone out at them triumphantly,
"And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness
comprehended it not."
"Jesus!" Charles Wallace said. "Why of course, Jesus!"
"Of course!" Mrs. Whatsit said. "Go on, Charles, love.
There were others.All your great artists. They've been lights
for us to live by."
"Leonardo da Vinci?" Calvin suggested tentatively.
"And Michelangelo?"
"And Shakespeare," Charles Wallace called out,
and "Bach! And Pasteur and Madame Curie and Einstein!"
Now Calvin's voice rang with confidence. "And
Schweitzer and Gandhi and Buddha and Beethoven
and Rembrandt and St. Francis!"
"Now you, Meg," Mrs. Whatsit ordered.
"Oh, Euclid, I suppose." Meg was in such an agony
of impatience that her voice grated irritably. "And
Copernicus. But what about Father? Please, what about Father?"
Peter Y. Chou
Palo Alto, Summer, 1985
Retyped: Mountain View, January 20, 2021
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