Chapter 20: Spinning

“Huh,” said Alexander. The four had assembled outside to watch the glowing object grow and shrink in the distance.

“So, is it some kind of Northern Lights thing?” Miranda said. She was cuddled up against Alexander, wrapped in a blanket.

“I've never seen any of the lights do that,” said Alexandria. “And it seems too regular to be natural.” She was standing by herself, in her oversized sweater. She had her arms crossed, and was shaking imperceptibly.

“It's spinning,” said Calvin. “That's the only explanation I can think of for this kind of behavior.”

“So... it's a spinning light way up in the mountains? Why?” Miranda said.

They stood there, in silence, thinking about it. After a few minutes, Alexandria suggested that they think about it inside over hot chocolate. The idea was well received.

Alexandria started to mix the cocoa, the sugar, and the salt together. It was her grandmother's homemade hot chocolate recipe, a drink that had brought comfort and community to her family for generations. Her grandmother would come over for an extended period of time during their Christmas breaks, when the twins were small, and she would make the drink for them nearly every day.

Her brother and her friends were talking about the light. Calvin was sitting on one side of the old wooden table, which was scarred and burned by years of heavy use. Alexander and Miranda sat on the other side, still entwined. Alexandria felt a little sick just looking at them.

“How often do planes fly over these mountains?” asked Calvin.

“I have no idea,” said Alexander.

Miranda chipped in. “Now that you mention it, it really wouldn't surprise me if there was sort of some flight path that went through here. South east to north west, perhaps? Why? You think it's some kind of warning light?”

“Honestly, it reminded me a lot of a lighthouse,” Calvin said. “The light has to be spinning, albeit slowly, to get that kind of a pattern. A lighthouse for the sky? I'm not sure whether those exist. I'm not sure whether they need to exist,” he said. “I would suspect that the computers aboard the craft know about the mountains and take natural barriers into account.”

“What if it's for amateur pilots?” asked Miranda. “The ones who are doing things more by eye and map than by computer? Those people exist, you know. Hobbyists, and all that.”

“I suppose,” said Calvin. “It seems like a lot of trouble to set something like this up for such a small group of people.”

“Lex said on the drive that we're in the middle of no where,” said Miranda. “It's true; this range can't be well known. It's not the Tetons, or Yellowstone or anything. I grew up in Wyoming, and I've never heard of this range before.”

“I find it hard to believe that someone would take the trouble to learn how to fly a plane, map a path cross country, and not notice this mountain range on it,” said Calvin.

Alexandria started pouring in the milk and the cream, and mixing it all together.

“What if you decided not to look at the map?” asked Miranda. “You could discover a lot about America by flying over it, and not really knowing where you're going.”

Calvin leaned forward. “The set of adventuring romantic amateur airplane pilots is too small to support such a structure.”

Miranda leaned forward too, getting into the argument and away from Alexander. “What if the same person who built the lighthouse is one of those kind of pilots?”

“Why would he do it for himself?” asked Alexander. He looked sullen, and almost not interested. He reached out to try to bring Miranda closer to him, but she shrugged him off.

“Well, what if she just likes lighthouses?” said Miranda. “And maybe it's not a lighthouse, you know? It could be a lot of things.”

“Such as?” asked Calvin, curiously.

“Well, I don't know,” Miranda said. “But I'm sure there must be something.” She leaned back into Alexander's arms again.

Calvin leaned back, and brushed the sandy hair out of his eyes. “I'm not sure I can think of anything else either,” he admitted.

“Think about the guy inside it, though,” said Alexander. “I don't think there's a road that goes up that far. How on earth would he have made this? And why? It would have taken immense effort.”

“We can ask him tomorrow,” said Alexandria. She sat down at the table next to Calvin. The hot chocolate ingredients had all been combined, and the mixture was heating up. It would be ready in a few minutes.

“Tomorrow?” said Alexander.

“Yes, tomorrow. I'm feeling very sore and moody after driving all day, and some exercise would be just the thing. The Crystal Lake trail goes near that peak, and I seem to remember a gully that should get us to the ridge. It shouldn't be too hard to find the place and figure out what's going on.”

“If you know where it is, and you've hiked around the area,” said Miranda, “Why haven't you seen this before?”

Alexandria paused. “That's a great question. Maybe the light was only turned on recently. Or maybe tonight is just unusually clear? No, wait, that doesn't sound right, this night isn't that clear. I don't know either. We can ask him that tomorrow, too, when we hike up.”

Miranda looked over at Alexander. “I don't think we'll be going on your hike,” she said, quietly.

Alexandria looked at her, and bit her lip. There were a lot of things that she really, really wanted to say, that she didn't.

“Alexander and I have some stuff to talk about,” Miranda said, looking back at Alexandria, and nodding slightly, thin lipped.

Alexandria stood up. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Miranda stared steadily back at her. “I think we've had this conversation already,” she said. “And I don't know that any of us would profit from having it again.”

Alexandria looked at her brother. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and perhaps a little miserable too. She snarled, and stormed into her room. She was surprised when Calvin followed her in.

“I thought you weren't staying here,” she said, sniffing, without turning around.

“I'm not,” Calvin said. He sounded careful. “I thought you might want to talk to someone.”

Alexandria turned around. That was remarkably perceptive of him.

“She's going to tell Al that he should drink brews. She's going to say that they're going to help him,” she said, sitting down on her bed. Calvin moved to the wooden rocking chair.

“You don't think they will?” he asked.

“No!” she said.

“Why not? It's a chemical guarantee.”

Alexandria thought about it. “It's a lie. A cheat. His life is what's causing him to be sad, and those brews don't change a damn thing about his life.”

They sat in silence for a bit. She could hear one of the two outside get up and take the pot off of the stove and start to pour it into mugs. She only heard two of them being filled up.

“Why were you making the hot chocolate tonight?” Calvin asked. It seemed an abrupt change of subject.

She thought of her childhood. How she could come in from a long day of cold sledding, the snow gathered icily in her brown hair. How she would come in from a long day of snowball fighting, sometimes her nose bloody from the ice balls the boys down the road would throw at her. The warm and gentle hot chocolate her grandmother would make her always made her happy, whether it was prolonging the joy or replacing the sadness with something greater.

“Were you cold?” Calvin asked.

She was, but she knew that it wasn't the reason she had decided to make the hot chocolate. She made it because she was sad. How Calvin seemed to know all this, she had no idea.

“No,” she whispered. “I made it because I wanted to be happy.”

“What's the relevant difference between what you're doing and the brews?”

Alexandria put her head in her hands. She felt disoriented, lost, confused. And she was incredibly frustrated at herself for feeling like crying. And even more frustrated that she was about to do it in front of her friend.

Calvin stood up, and walked to the window. He looked out the frosty glass at the white orb, spinning slowly above him. Alexandria was very thankful he wasn't looking at her anymore. He said nothing, but watched the light very intently.

“I can think of a host of differences,” he said quietly. “But I don't know enough about you to know whether they're relevant.”

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