"What are they, actually?"

"It's a strange thought that we live on a tiny little planet in the universe."

Hilde settled herself comfortably in the glider beside her father. It was nearly midnight. They sat looking out across the bay. A few stars glimmered palely in the light sky. Gentle waves lapped over the stones under the dock.

… we too are stardust…

"Yes…"

"Perhaps the only one in the entire universe?"

"It's possible. But it's also possible that the universe is teeming with life. The universe is inconceivably huge. The distances are so great that we measure them in light-minutes and light-years."

"How far away is the sun?"

"Earth is only one of many planets orbiting the sun. Yet Earth is the only living planet."

Her father broke the silence.

"A light-minute is the distance light travels in one minute. And that's a long way, because light travels through space at 300,000 kilometers a second. That means that a light-minute is 60 times 300,000-- or 18 million kilometers. A light-year is nearly ten trillion kilometers."

"It's a bit hard to visualize, but I think I understand."

"Go on…"

"It's a little over eight light-minutes away. The rays of sunlight warming our faces on a hot June day have traveled for eight minutes through the universe before they reach us."

"Pluto, which is the planet farthest out in our solar system, is about five light-hours away from us. When an astronomer looks at Pluto through his telescope, he is in fact looking five hours back in time. We could also say that the picture of Pluto takes five hours to get here."

"I suppose that's why the Milky Way is called 'Winter Street' in Swedish."

"That's good, Hilde. But we here on Earth are only just beginning to orient ourselves. Our own sun is one of 400 billion other stars in the galaxy we call the Milky Way. This galaxy resembles a large discus, with our sun situated in one of its several spiral arms. When we look up at the sky on a clear winter's night, we see a broad band of stars. This is because we are looking toward the center of the Milky Way."

"But that's only the nearest star. The whole galaxy -- or nebula, as we also call it -- is 90,000 light-years wide. That is another way of describing the time it takes for light to travel from one end of the galaxy to the other. When we gaze at a star in the Milky Way which is 50,000 light-years away from our sun, we are looking back 50,000 years in time."

"The distance to the star in the Milky Way that is our nearest neighbor is four light-years. Maybe that's it just above the island over there. If you could imagine that at this very moment a stargazer is sitting up there with a powerful telescope pointing at Bjerkely -- he would see Bjerkely as it looked four years ago. He might see an eleven-year-old girl swinging her legs in the glider."

"Incredible."

"The idea is much too big for my little head."

"The only way we can look out into space, then, is to look back in time. We can never know what the universe is like now. We only know what it was like then. When we look up at a star that is thousands of light-years away, we are really traveling thousands of years back in the history of space."

"But everything we see meets the eye in the form of light waves. And these light waves take time to travel through space. We could compare it to thunder. We always hear the thunder after we have seen the lightning. That's because sound waves travel slower than light waves. When I hear a peal of thunder, I'm hearing the sound of something that happened a little while ago. It's the same thing with the stars. When I look at a star that is thousands of light-years away, I'm seeing the 'peal of thunder' from an event that lies thousands of years back in time."

"It's completely incomprehensible."

"But so far, we've only been talking about our own galaxy. Astronomers say there are about a hundred billion of such galaxies in the universe, and each of these galaxies consists of about a hundred billion stars. We call the nearest galaxy to the Milky Way the Andromeda nebula. It lies two million light-years from our own galaxy. That means the light from that galaxy takes two million years to reach us. So we're looking two million years back in time when we see the Andromeda nebula high up in the sky. If there was a clever stargazer in this nebula -- I can just imagine him pointing his telescope at Earth right now -- he wouldn't be able to see us. If he was lucky, he'd see a few flat-faced Neanderthals."

"Yes, I see."

"The most distant galaxies we know of today are about ten billion light-years away from us. When we receive signals from these galaxies, we are going ten billion years back in the history of the universe. That's about twice as long as our own solar system has existed."

"It's amazing."

"What?"

"Although it is hard enough to comprehend what it means to look so far back in time, astronomers have discovered something that has even greater significance for our world picture."

"You're making me dizzy."

"Apparently no galaxy in space remains where it is. All the galaxies in the universe are moving away from each other at colossal speeds. The further they are away from us, the quicker they move. That means that the distance between the galaxies is increasing all the time."

"I'm trying to picture it."

"If you have a balloon and you paint black spots on it, the spots will move away from each other as you blow up the balloon. That's what's happening with the galaxies in the universe. We say that the universe is expanding."

"Just the thought of it makes me shudder."

"Most astronomers agree that the expanding universe can only have one explanation: Once upon a time, about 15 billion years ago, all substance in the universe was assembled in a relatively small area. The substance was so dense that gravity made it terrifically hot. Finally it got so hot and so tightly packed that it exploded. We call this explosion the Big Bang."

"What makes it do that?"

"But I thought you said the universe was still expanding?"

"The Big Bang caused all the substance in the universe to be expelled in all directions, and as it gradually cooled, it formed stars and galaxies and moons and planets…"

"Yes I did, and it's expanding precisely because of this explosion billions of years ago. The universe has no timeless geography. The universe is a happening. The universe is an explosion. Galaxies continue to fly through the universe away from each other at colossal speeds."

"Will they go on doing that for ever?"

"That's one possibility. But there is another. You may recall that Alberto told Sophie about the two forces that cause the planets to remain in constant orbit round the sun?"

"Weren't they gravity and inertia?"

"There would be another Big Bang and the universe would start expanding again. Because the same natural laws are in operation. And so new stars and galaxies will form."

"Will all the galaxies be drawn together in a tight nucleus again?"

"Right, and the same thing applies to the galaxies. Because even though the universe continues to expand, the force of gravity is working the other way. And one day, in a couple of billion years, gravity will perhaps cause the heavenly bodies to be packed together again as the force of the huge explosion begins to weaken. Then we would get a reverse explosion, a so-called implosion. But the distances are so great that it will happen like a movie that is run in slow motion. You might compare it with what happens when you release the air from a balloon."

"Yes, you've got it. But what will happen then?"

"Good thinking. Astronomers think there are two possible scenarios for the future of the universe. Either the universe will go on expanding forever so that the galaxies will draw further and further apart -- or the universe will begin to contract again. How heavy and massive the universe is will determine what happens. And this is something astronomers have no way of knowing as yet."

"For a Christian, it would be obvious to see the Big Bang as the actual moment of creation. The Bible tells us that God said 'Let there be light!' You may possibly also remember that Alberto indicated Christianity's 'linear' view of history. From the point of view of a Chris-tian belief in the creation, it is better to imagine the universe continuing to expand."

"But if the universe is so heavy that it begins to contract again, perhaps it has expanded and contracted lots of times before."

"That would be an obvious conclusion. But on this point theory is divided. It may be that the expansion of the universe is something that will only happen this one time. But if it keeps on expanding for all eternity, the question of where it all began becomes even more pressing."

"Yes, where did it come from, all that stuff that suddenly exploded?"

"It is?"

"In the Orient they have a 'cyclic' view of history. In other words, history repeats itself eternally. In India, for example, there is an ancient theory that the world continually unfolds and folds again, thus alternating between what Indians have called Brahman's Day and Brahman's Night. This idea harmonizes best, of course, with the universe expanding and contracting -- in order to expand again -- in an eternal cyclic process. I have a mental picture of a great cosmic heart that beats and beats and beats…"

"I think both theories are equally inconceivable and equally exciting."

"And that's not all."

"What are you referring to?"

"Revenge is sweet."

"I think I've just been stung by a gadfly."

Hilde clapped her hand to her forehead.

"Has it struck you that our roles are completely reversed?" asked Alberto after a while.

"And they can compare with the great paradox of eternity that Sophie once sat pondering in her garden: either the universe has always been there -- or it suddenly came into existence out of nothing…"

Sophie and Alberto had been sitting in the red convertible listening to the major tell Hilde about the universe.

"Before it was they who listened to us, and we couldn't see them. Now we're listening to them and they can't see us."

"In what sense?"

"What was that?"

"It was probably Socrates trying to sting you into life."

"When we started, we didn't know about the other reality that Hilde and the major inhabited. Now they don't know about ours."

"But the major could intervene in our world."

"Ouch!"

"Nothing."

Then Sophie hit the major on his forehead, but he didn't react at all.

"What are you doing?" asked Alberto.

"Ouch!" said Hilde.

"Our world was nothing but his interventions."

She began to rummage around in the car.

"I haven't yet relinquished all hope that we may also intervene in their world."

Sophie was silent. She gazed out over the garden while the major explained about the Big Bang. There was something about that term which started a train of thought in her mind.

"But you know that's impossible. Remember what happened in the Cinderella? I saw you trying to get out that bottle of Coke."

"What was that?" he asked. "I think I've just been stung by a gadfly."

"It was probably Socrates trying to sting you into life."

She opened the glove compartment and found a wrench. She grabbed it and jumped out of the car. She went over to the glider and stood right in front of Hilde and her father. First she tried to catch Hilde's eye but that was quite useless. Finally she raised the wrench above her head and crashed it down on Hilde's forehead.

"No, there isn't. It's very mild."

The major put his arm around Hilde.

"And what might that be?"

"Do you hear the mysterious play of the waves?"

Sophie ran back to the car.

"You remember Alberto and his secret plan?"

"No, there's something in the air."

"How could I forget!"

"There's a chilly breeze coming up," said Hilde.

"That was, yes, but not what happened afterward. Suppose they were here…"

Sophie lay down on the grass and tried to push the glider. But it remained motionless. Or did she manage to get it to move a millimeter?

"They simply disappeared from the garden party. It was as if they had vanished into thin air…"

"Only the two of us and the cool summer night."

"… into thin air."

"The story had to end somewhere. It was just something I wrote."

"Do you believe that?"

"I can feel it, Dad."

"Yes, but…"

"It's not only that. There is something."

"Impressive," said Alberto grudgingly as she climbed on board clasping the wrench tightly in her hand. "You have unusual talents, Sophie. Just wait and see."

"Soon there will be stars on the water."

"Perhaps there is something between the lines in this garden too."

"Nature is full of enigmas. But we are talking about stars in the sky."

"Yes, we too are stardust."

"When radio telescopes can pick up light from distant galaxies billions of light-years away, they will be charting the universe as it looked in primeval times after the Big Bang. Everything we can see in the sky is a cosmic fossil from thousands and millions of years ago. The only thing an astrologer can do is predict the past."

"You wrote that there was something between the lines."

"I did?"

"The planet is alive, you know…"

"That's right. That's what you used to say about phosphorescence when you were little. And in a sense you were right. Phosphorescence and all other organisms are made of elements that were once blended together in a star."

"That was beautifully put."

"Us too?"

"Yes. We must get the boat in the water tomorrow."

"But do you hear the strange whispering of the wind? Look how the aspen leaves are trembling."

"If it's a clear night, we can see millions, even billions of years back into the history of the universe. So in a way, we are going home."

"Even two thousand years ago, the constellations looked considerably different from the way they look today."

"I never knew that."

"You and I also began with the Big Bang, because all substance in the universe is an organic unity. Once in a primeval age all matter was gathered in a clump so enormously massive that a pinhead weighed many billions of tons. This 'primeval atom' exploded because of the enormous gravitation. It was as if something disintegrated. When we look up at the sky, we are trying to find the way back to ourselves."

"Because the stars in the constellations moved away from each other long before their light reached us, right?"

"All the stars and galaxies in the universe are made of the same substance. Parts of it have lumped themselves together, some here, some there. There can be billions of light-years between one galaxy and the next. But they all have the same origin. All stars and all planets belong to the same family."

"I don't know what you mean."

"What an extraordinary thing to say."

They tried to loosen the rope that was made fast in a metal ring. But they could not even lift one end.

"I want to try the rowboat," she said.

"That is the big question."

"But what is this earthly substance? What was it that exploded that time billions of years ago? Where did it come from?"

"It's tied up. And we would never be able to lift the oars."

"We can go down to the water, at any rate."

"Yes, I see."

"However, we must not exaggerate the importance of these figures. It is enough just to hold a stone in your hand. The universe would have been equally incomprehensible if it had only consisted of that one stone the size of an orange. The question would be just as impenetrable: where did this stone come from?"

"That's a beautiful thought too."

"And a question that concerns us all very deeply. For we ourselves are of that substance. We are a spark from the great fire that was ignited many billions of years ago."

"Shall we try? After all, it is Midsummer Eve."

Sophie suddenly stood up in the red convertible and pointed out over the bay.

They jumped out of the car and ran down the garden.

"A true philosopher must never give up. If we could just… get it loose…"

"It's as good as nailed down," said Alberto.

"There are more stars now," said Hilde.

"Go ahead and make fun of me. All evening, I've been able to feel someone here."

"It reminds me of when Sophie borrowed Alberto's boat. Do you remember how it lay drifting out in the lake?"

"It's as if we are sitting at the very tip of the fine hairs in the white rabbit's fur."

"That was when I decided to write a book about philosophy for you. I had been to a large bookstore in Kris-tiansand and to the library too. But they had nothing suitable for young people."

"Did you?"

"We'll both go, Dad."

"We've got plenty of time."

"I don't understand it. I went down and checked it just before you got here."

"I wonder if there is anyone out there in the night of the light-years?"

"I bet it's her at work again."

"So it has!"

"But they sparkle more in winter. Do you remember the night before you left for Lebanon? It was New Year's Day."

"Yes, when the summer night is darkest."

"The rowboat has worked itself loose!"

"One of us will have to swim out to it."