Yesterday, he brought a friend he said he had met on his city adventure. The stranger asked me plainly why I would not help the scientists learn the secret. If I made them happy, he said to me, perhaps the knowledge could help raise the status of the Mayan people in the eyes of the world. At the very least, they would send us wealth.
I told my grandson’s friend we did not need any more computers or machines. Such conveniences are secondary and unimportant in the great plan. Our status is not necessary, either. Our purpose should be to help Colop complete his journey and become one with the stars; that is all that truly matters.
My grandson said that his friend would like to listen to me tell the story once more. I hoped, perhaps, that their young ears would hear more than the old ears of the scientists from the north.
We sat on the long couch in front of the scroll and I told the story to my grandson and his friend one last time. I was very careful to tell it in the manner it was told to me by my own grandfather.
When I finished, I looked at them expectantly. At first, the other man’s face was clouded over, but my grandson was excited.
“Do you not hear it?” he said to his friend.
After a moment, the stranger nodded. “Yes. I think so. I think you are right.”
My heart swelled with pride. Finally, my grandson understood something in the tale. It was his destiny to hear the story. My grandfather had passed the legacy to me, as his grandfather had passed it to him. And now my grandson will become ambassador to the People of the Stars.
“You know the secret?” I asked him. I was hopeful.
My grandson nodded. “Yes, Grandfather, I believe I do. Thank you.”
“Good.” I closed my eyes with satisfaction. When I opened them again, I said, “Then you must find Colop and reveal the secret to him so that he also may hear the Song of the Stars.”
He smiled at me in a way I had never before seen. “Oh, Grandfather. No, I will not find Alex Manez. And no, I will not give him the secret.”