Lens

by Harlan Weikle

Part 1

   It was almost Christmas and the winter season had set in with a vengeance. The election was over and people everywhere were nervous about the coming changes. There were at least three wars waging in various corners of the world. The world’s economy was being massively disrupted by bitcoin speculation and Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was ending. Things had not been this bad since the height of the Cold War.

   2025 wasn’t looking good.

   

   It was twenty-five centuries ago, approximately two-hundred BCE, when the Roman Republic adopted Saturnalia, the pagan Greek celebration of the winter solstice, marking the beginning of the winter sowing system and celebrating the gods of agriculture, Demeter, Aristaeus, and Dionysus. Twenty-five centuries or just a fraction of the time it takes our sol system and Earth to complete a single rotation about the galactic center, or what some call the Mayan “Long Count Calendar”. But in that small fraction of arc the Sun had drifted into a position within the penumbra of the galactic center lens or the ‘Cats-eye’ lens. As a consequence images of Earth were now being reflected back towards their origin point with symmetric, non-scattering light that traversed the distance taking just twenty-five hundred years to arrive. People all over the world were seeing ghost-like images of people places and animals long since turned to decay and dust.

   

   These were vibrant images with motion, almost as if tangible. Some people reported seeing them most clearly at sunset or just at dawn. They were images of people tilling the soil or gathering at markets, forums and bath houses, pictures of animals and buildings appearing like mirages but in 3D. For the most part viewers stood in awe of these specters, not really questioning what they were seeing as much as hypnotized by the scenes. What made this even more inspiring was the silence, there was no sound, nothing to hear but our own present background noise and even that faded as we watched. Some called them sprits or golem others took a more studied stance issuing various theories about the phenomenon but without a final explanation.

   

   The odd thing that most noticed however aside from the realism was the calmness, the tranquility they exuded in their various comings and goings. There didn’t seem to be any rush or furtiveness to their machinations, just a kind of repose that in our twenty-first century was almost non-existent. The specters had a soothing quality about them, like watching a herd of deer wandering through an open glade or a flock of birds taking wing in a carousel of three dimensional flight. People would become transfixed by the scenes playing out before them, not as much aggrieved by their own circumstances, forgetting how bad their own lives had become. The challenges they faced daily seemed to fade into this background of serenity the way one loses ones-self at a concert or in a art gallery. One could almost sense a change in their attitude toward current world affairs as if these shadows of Earth’s past were instructional, the didactics of another time, the sweet redolence of a more peaceful life.

Part 2

   Quitus Livius Opilio was irritated this morning, irritated at his wife Sepunia because she insisted on going to the macellum her self to choose the fish and meat for their Saturnalia first day feast instead of sending her villa servus [house slave], Sentia who routinely did the shopping. 

  

   “I told Sentia to stay home and prepare the seating arrangement for our guests and make certain the others were aware of their duties tonight, it’s going to be so odd for them.”  She had paused for a second as if to reflect on the Saturnalia tradition of emancipation for all slaves during the holiday, she didn’t understand it but recognized it had a healing effect of sorts on society. “House slaves aren’t use to mixing socially with their superiors,” she continued. “I simply want everything to be perfect.”

  

   Quitus knew that tone, Sepunia was a daughter of a Senator, always worried about protocol. He wasn’t about to admonish her for her patrician ways after all he had grown up in a plebeian home and knew only the protocol of his soldiers training. 

“Well just don’t be late, in fact take Drusus with you. He will see to it that you get in and out quickly, avoid the crowds besides, he can carry your parcels.” He knew her tendency to linger over idle gossip with the merchants and Drusus was an imposing figure whom the general public would avoid as much as possible.

   

   Somewhat placated, Sentia agreed, secretly thankful for the company. There were so many strangers in the city these days, it was the visions she supposed. Everyone was talking about these visions of the Gods lately, appearing mist-like but very real at the same time. Obviously their presence meant something important for they were not as the gods had appeared on previous feriae publicae [public holiday]. These visions were strange, the sights were of the Gods seemingly engaged in some type of industry, moving into and out of vast structures, building of metal and stone and carried in horseless carts along liquid roads sometimes high in the air. These Gods wore unfamiliar garments made of distinctive cloth like materials, odd colors and in unaccountable shapes, the purpose of which one could only surmise. 

   Romans who witnessed these visions also remarked that like past appearances these Gods were cloaked in absolute silence. They spoke nothing yet they seemed to be playing out some great Ludi Seculares [play] to instruct the Roman Civis in the proper way to live.

Part 3

   It was raining now, not a pleasant rain but hard, sheared sideways by a strong wind and cold. Physicist Andre Tobachnikov struggled through the short walk from his car to the observatory and wondered why he had even gotten out of bed this morning. He bumped into his young colleague Norman Briscoe who was struggling against the weather from the opposite direction. “Morning Norman,” He said startled. “I didn't expect you in today.”

   

   “I probably have the same reason as you”, answered the younger man. “Couldn’t sleep—these damned visions—anyway I heard the storm and knew I wouldn’t be distracted by the aberrations for much of the day—Briscoe didn’t like calling them visions— and perhaps I could make some headway on calibrating the new thermal imaging lens.”

   

   As the pair made their way up to the three-meter observatory on the roof, the senior scientist continued, “I had the same notion, in fact I was thinking, we know the visions never appear during these storm events, the answer must be in there somewhere.”

  

   “If our optical measurements are correct,” Briscoe said, “The calibration can be completed in just a few hours and by this evening we’ll have our first clear view of the object.” The object both Tobachnikov and Briscoe knew was hypothetical, in fact no one had even thought to look for it before this. But if their theory was correct then something near the center of the galaxy was reflecting light to earth at an angle of no more than ten degrees of incidence. That object, if it existed, would be a lens of pure dark matter invisible over most of the spectrum but shining in thermal radio-optics. Moreover, in theory it would be capable of transmitting thermal images across the galaxy.

Part 4

   Sepunia and Drusus, after stopping at the temple of Dionysus to make an offering of grain from their morning’s shopping, returned to the villa to find everything in order just as the lady had instructed. Quitus was there to greet them along with a small decorative amphora of wine for serving their guests. It was going to be a glorious day to begin Saturnalia. “All is well with you wife?” He asked.

   

   “Yes dear Ilio.” She used the nickname for his family name Opilio [herder of sheep] frequently, it seemed to fit his personality as a ‘shepherd’ taciturn, faithful and ever on guard. She was happier than she could ever recall, a wonderful husband, splendid villa, life was good, the future bright. 

   “I want to tell you the gossip I overheard at the market today. It’s about the visions.” 

   Quintus refrained from commenting on his disdain for gossip replying, “I knew you would pick up more than the today’s food.”

 

   “I did indeed, Farm-boy,” another pet nickname. “I spoke to Lupa Vibulanus whose husband is the second oracle at the Accademia dei Lincei. She told me that the Astronomus Princeps had finalized his calculations for the term of rotation for the Via Galactica, it is a number I cannot conceive, but in his understanding the gods have caused our world to travel just a fraction of that distance since time began.” She was savoring this moment as she continued with her story. “Lupa’s husband has spoken to the gods.” she continued, “This Saturnalia carries a message to the future in detail as visions of, well us, our lives, the world, how we live and in turn, these visions of another world we experience daily, are images from the future, not the gods after all. I don’t understand it all but the wonder of it is that our life is manifest in the future now, perhaps even shaping that future. It is going to be a wonderful Saturnalia my dear.”