art by Steven R. Stewart
by Kurt Newton
The figure emerged inside the three-dimensional matrix. My brother, the mathematician, looked on as if he had never had a doubt the algorithm he devised would work. Using our own energy signatures as an identifying marker was pure genius, even if the probability of success was equivalent to locating a specific speck of dust on a landscape the size of planet Earth. But we never gave up. After years of searching, using an etheric energy detection and capture system I designed, at last we had him, our very own Shroud of Turin. Only this one was made of energized plasma. He wasn't Jesus Christ, but he was God to us.
"Dad? Can you hear us?" There was a slight crackle as I locked in the coordinates. I stared at the image of our father floating before us in the lab.
Our father opened his deep-set eyes, as if awakened from a long sleep. There was bewilderment and fear in his gaze. His mouth opened, speechless.
"We needed to see you again. We wanted to tell you everything is fine. We're fine."
My brother nudged me.
"And the accident wasn't your fault. It's okay. You can stop blaming yourself."