Hoped For

An unexpected encounter at a deserted park gives an elder a chance to replace a life of disheartening futility with one of hoped for utility.

An achy elder out for my daily stroll around a run-down, usually vacant, park, my attention was captured by a young woman. Wearing plain tan pants, a faded green flannel shirt and worn red sneakers, the unfamiliar gal waved for me to approach her. “Sorry to interrupt your walk,” she soon called out.

I took a few timid steps toward her. “Are you OK?” I asked while running a hand through the scattering of white hairs atop my scraggly 75-year-old frame.

“I’m fine, Nettles. My name is Kezz,” she replied while curling short brown hair behind ears, then saying one of the few things that would cause me to further pause my walk: “I very much value and enjoy your niceness website,” she complimented.

“How did you stumble upon the site?” I asked, flapping hands against raggedy, paint-stained pants as I moved into the shade of a nearby sprawling willow tree.

“No stumble. I’m an ET who routinely searches for niceologists stuck on planets with humans disinterested in sufficiently valuing niceness,” she matter-of-factly informed me.

“An ET, huh. Your English is pretty good,” I suspiciously replied, giving her a chance to say she was joking.

Kezz remained casual. “There are nifty ways to learn languages—ways currently unknown to Earth humans. . . . I suggest you see my extraterrestrial status to be unlikely, but not impossible,” she advised before saying something even more fantastic. “You’ll be appreciated on a select group of worlds. . . . Planets with humans close to a worldwide niceness breakthrough would greatly be assisted by you.”

Just play along, I told myself while rubbing the back of my neck. “Assisting ETs ready for a ‘worldwide niceness breakthrough’ would be quite an assignment.”

“Yes, helping those close to making an exceptional commitment to niceness is a grand honor,” emphasized Kezz.

“Far too grand for me,” I contended with a grin.

“Your modesty is expected,” said Kezz as she slowly leaned forward to rest forearms on thighs.

“So, there are other humanoid planets,” I placated while looking skyward.

Kezz was ready to say more. “Yes, much ill-conceived migration occurred after the distance-problem was solved. A small group of niceologists are striving to overcome the unfortunate situation. . . . I’m a member of that group.”

“Distance problem?” I repeated with a puzzled look.

“A few scientists came upon a means of readily visiting worlds light-years away,” elaborated Kezz.

“Impressive,” I noted.

Slumping forward, Kezz spoke with regret. “What isn’t impressive was assuming that merely escaping dreadful environmental and communal conditions—circumstances similar to those on Earth—would result in a second-chance commitment to niceness. On the contrary, migrating from a spoiled world to an uninhabited unspoiled one didn’t result in the awareness and gratefulness needed to improve planetary caretaking, personal serenity and social harmony. . . . The lesson learned was betterment only occurs when it’s sufficiently preceded by a genuine pledge to prioritize and rely on kindness and fairness.”

“Was Earth one of the planets migrated to?” I asked, again going along with what was being proposed.

“Because Earth was already occupied, it was off-limits,” answered Kezz before further noting the status of the circumstance. “By the time interplanetary travel was restricted, there were struggling populations on many planets. Only recently—millenniums later—are those on a few of these planets close to committing to a niceness-ruled world. The humans on these planets just need a sustained surge—the sort of steadfast effort niceologists, like you, can help bring about.”

“So, you and a few others are recruiting those you believe can help you bring about the evolution you’ve long sought to prompt,” I checked, wanting to make sure I was understanding.

“Yes,” confirmed Kezz. “The home-base of the niceologist recruiters and our recruitees is an island with a wall-of-mesas perimeter. It’s a cozy mostly water planet about the size of Earth’s moon. There’s an abundance of delicious fruits and vegetables.”

My curiosity was obvious. “How did humans come to be on your original home-world?”

“We think humans who solved the distance-problem populated my home-world and, by the way, possibly Earth. Our guess is that after realizing more is needed than a fresh start on another planet, those in control of the transporter mechanism flew the coop, taking the solution to the distance-problem with them. Their whereabouts is unknown. . . . Much time passed before the distance-problem was solved by a few on my initial home-world,” shared Kezz before putting the focus back on me. . . . “You’ll have your own orbiter in which you’ll orbit an assigned world. Our niceologists usually broadcast over four-hour stretch.”

“The more you talk, the more convincing and enticing you sound,” I granted.

Kezz replied with confidence. “Niceologists see their mission as a calling of sorts. That’s true for you, right?”

I nodded yes. “I’ve sought such purpose much of my life. Being helpful while orbiting planets on which the inhabitants are in the midst of making a tipping-of-the-scales commitment to kindness and fairness would be a dream job.”

“You’ll broadcast while in orbit. Your computer will have a language translator,” noted Kezz.

“The primitiveness of Earth-humans must be dismaying,” I noted.

Kezz’s response was predictable. “As you’ve often explained at your site, mustering the tremendous effort it takes to break free of the misguidedness ususal on Earth is an unwieldy undertaking, especially when desperation confounds the search for ableness and closeness. Well known by you, Earth humans are a long way from making use of what you and I have to offer. The accumulation of weaponry and the disregard for the biosphere verify an addiction to folly that won’t be easily surmounted.”

Unable to ignore my failure to dent the barricade of resistance I had encountered on Earth, I allowed myself to be further fascinated by the thought of becoming a helpful interplanetary niceologist. “Earth-humans like to think our beliefs reflect our goodness, but many of our beliefs are merely ways we pretend to value kindness and fairness—ways to endure our existence.”

“Well put,” said Kezz. “Again, though the advent of a niceness revolution isn’t on Earth’s horizon, there are those on other worlds who are close to allowing the massive futility they’ve created give way to the sufficient humility needed to turn a breathtaking advancement corner. . . . You and your site would be put to good use by such worlds. What do you say?”

“Isn’t access to the site satisfactory? Why am I needed?” I countered, still intimidated by Kezz’s offer.

Kezz remained patient. “Known by you, when those teetering hear niceologists share in-person that they also have times when their inner radiance flickers, an especially helpful show of humility is provided. . . . Of course, there’s another good reason to join us.”

“What’s that?” I eagerly asked.

“Your Earth-bound health is fading fast,” assured Kezz before sharing some very good news. “Soon after arriving at the home-base, you’ll receive care that would be seen as a medical wonder on Earth. We’ve figured out not only how to slow but also reverse aging. I’m three times your age. The departure of a consciousness has yet to be explained,”

I squinted in disbelief, then began stomping about while spouting a sudden show of displeasure with myself. “That’s enough fantasy! I’m indulging in a wishful-thinking delusion. . . . This is all about my fear of death, isn’t it? You’re not real!”

“Again, consider what I’ve told you to be unlikely, but not impossible,” encouraged Kezz.

I remained stubborn. “Though only handful of people visit my site, I feel obliged to continue it. If I accept your invitation, there will be no one to maintain it!”

“I suggest you arrange a meeting with your daughter, Mellene, and your granddaughter, Andrean,” calmly posed Kezz.

“Unfortunately, Mellene’s husband has convinced her my site and me are silly is silly,” I grumbled.

Kezz was persistent. “Last ditch efforts sometimes pan out . . . Again, ask Mellene to bring Andrean, to a get-together.”

“I suppose having you speak with Mellene would be a foolish long shot,” I impulsively proposed.

Kezz pursed lips while lifting palms upward. “I’m afraid you’re on your own. Recruiters only contact possible recruits. . . . Besides, we both know Mellene will likely see me as a scoundrel.”

Kezz’s right, I quickly concluded before opting for the unlikely-but-not-impossible mindset she’d recommended. “A minuscule chance of being whisked away to a world where fitting in isn’t the dreadful chore I know it to be on Earth is reason enough to accept your invitation,” I conceded with a smile while standing still and folding arms.

Kezz hung her head, then spoke pensively. “Not fitting in takes its toll, even for peacemakers. The vast majority of Earth-humans are invested in contrived rivalries—disagreements that, on occasion can bring about devastation. Rather than learn from catastrophic hardship, the powers that be and their many followers remain hellbent on resuming misguided strategies.”

“Mostly during my twenties, I made my share of very hurtful choices,” I meekly confessed.

“All niceologists feel undeserving. It’s owning the long list of hurtful choices that eventually forges a commitment to greater kindness and fairness, right?. . . . Because you and I are less desperate than we once were, we’re less hurtful,” solemly pointed out Kezz.

I sought to be empathic. “Right!. . . . Visiting Earth—a place of so much sorrow—must be difficult for you.”

Kezz slouched backward as she shoved hands in pockets. “I go no further than this park. . . . Earth humans see tears as an embarrassing show of weakness rather than a normal means of coping is a tell-tale sign of much ignored hurt due to nightmarish losses,” she replied as her eyes watered. “Once among other niceologists, you’ll find grief easier to express. Weeping in public places is not unusual at the home-base.”

I looked at a passing cloud while releasing a long sigh. “I’m guessing only those for whom death looms are given the opportunity you’re giving me.”

“Yes, facing death’s door is a useful incentive. . . . If you choose to join us, you’ll become among the missing on Earth.” explained Kezz.

“Missing, but not missed. . . . Rather than bemoan such a departure, I should express thanks. That many, including children, experience undue, sometimes fatal, suffering is mystifying,” I somerbly mulled.

“Though overwhelmed by the unfathomable onslaught of hardship, humans can, when we humbly accept our misguidedness, nudge ourselves toward greater kindness and fairness,” suggested Kezz.

I nodded agreement while slowly pacing back and forth in front of Kezz. “So, where’s our means of travel?” I asked.

“In my palms,” she answered.

“Your palms!” I repeated, holding a quizzical look while coming to a halt.

Kezz provided details. “After giving up on nonviable notions, such as warp-drive and wormholes, a means of replacing a here-and-now place with another here-an-now place was discovered. Simply put, areas of our brain, when profoundly linked and unleashed, work in unison to do the replacing. . . . The activating mechanism is a tiny device implanted in a palm.”

I wanted to hear more. “The transporting you described sounds imaginary.”

“It is somewhat imaginary. Rather than go somewhere, the somewhere comes to us,” claimed Kezz.

“But there must be a procedure of some sort,” I pressed.

Kezz spoke plainly. “I currently have a device implanted in each palm. After placing one palm on your forehead, then my other palm on my forehead, I’ll use guided imagery to simultaneously steep us in the human desire for kindness and fairness. Other than noting our destination, that’s all there is to it! . . . I’ll meet you here in two days, same time. . . . Good luck with Mellene and Andrean,” Kezz wished me before standing, then casually walking away.

“Where will you be until we meet again?” I asked, still trying to fathom what was happening.

Kezz turned my way while smiling, then answered with a mild shrug. “Home,” he answered before walking away while bringing a palm to his forehead. A moment later he vanished.

“It’s best to disappear in private, right?” I assumed.

As planned during a phone call, Mellene and 13-year-old Andrean met me at the park the following day. After everyone waved hello, Mellene escorted Andrean to a nearby swing, then sat with me on a bench.

“Thanks for coming,” I began.

Mellene was assertive. “So that she won’t hear us, I told Andrean to listen to her iPod music while swinging. I’ll call her over when you and I are done with our chat,” she explained as we watched Andrean insert earphones.

How can I say what’s on my mind without sounding like I’ve lost my mind? I wondered as Mellene leaned back and folded arms. Crouched over to avoid eye contact, I took a deep breath before speaking. “I’ve done a poor job keeping in touch,” I confessed.

“So have I. We have nothing in common,” candidly replied Mellene.

“I know Del thinks my niceness website is proof I’m naive,” I awkwardly noted, hoping Mellene would indicate she’d come to disagreed with her husband.

“You sounded intense on the phone. Has your health worsened?” asked Mellene, declining to discuss the site.

“I have something to tell you that will sound far-fetched,” I warned.

Mellene frowned as she clutched knees.

Following another full breath, I mentioned the previous day’s encounter. “Yesterday, a stranger sitting on this bench called to me. The young woman knew my name and she knew about my niceness site.”

Mellene was distrustful. “Did she soon offer to increase your site’s traffic for a modest fee?”

“No,” I answered.

“Scammers abound, Dad. You know that!” sternly stated Mellene.

“There was no mention of money,” I assured her.

“So, why is coming across someone who knows about the site a big deal?” asked Mellene.

“Her mention of the site was merely surprising. The incredible big-deal followed,” I explained, sure divulging Kezz’s claim to be from another planet would rile Mellene.

“Cut to the chase,” Mellene impatiently requested.

Stalling will irritate Mellene more, I concluded before blurting what I needed to share. “The woman, who said her name was Kezz, told me she’d come to Earth to recruit me. . . . She said she recruits niceologists!”

Flustered, Mellene narrowed eyes. “So, you feel like a gullible fool for giving the time of day to a prankster spouting nonsense. Again, what’s the big deal?”

After glancing skyward, I spoke with a quiver. “The big deal is I think there’s a slim chance she wasn’t tricking me. . . . She said something I’ve long thought likely—something I believe you’ll appreciate: She said the niceness site doesn’t stand a chance of having even a meager following on Earth. She added that the humility-producing futility needed for Earth humans to show an interest in the site is far, far off!”

Mellene had an immediate rebuttal. “Fantasizing a visit from a like-minded ET provides an escape from the gloom and doom frame of mind recluses, like you, are prone to. The pretending inevitably crumbles, leaving the imaginer nosediving into a funk.”

She’s made a good point, I thought before attempting to sound clear-minded. “I’ve been among those who assumed ETs would seek out high-ranking scientists or politicians, not a hermit-like misfit. . . . I’m now open to the slight possibility there’s a saving grace at play.”

“What’s your saving grace?” skeptically asked Mellene.

Sure Mellene would find fault, I kept my tone light-hearted. “A steadfast commitment to bring about greater niceness. What has brought about much ridicule on Earth may have also brought about an invitation to a world where an oddball like me can do some good.”

Mellene leaned back while anchoring hands on hips. “So, you actually think that there’s a chance you’ve been invited to go to another planet?”

“I know I sound crazy!” I admitted.

“Listen to me carefully, Dad. A con artist is concocting a foolhardy form of escapism for the fun of it. It’s a way some deranged people amuse themselves,” claimed Mellene, ready to elaborate. “Think about it! While taking a run of the mill walk in the park, a stranger sitting on a bench grabs the attention an elderly loner. Then, after telling you she’s familiar with your niceness site, she reveals she’s an ET! Even more fantastic, she offers you a trip to a distant planet, where you’ll supposedly find the fulfillment that eluded you on Earth. . . . It’s a sick scam!”

“That’s a good recap and a reasonable conclusion,” I conceded before shifting to the reason I asked to meet. “Is there any chance you’ll keep the site up and running if I suddenly go missing?” I asked, pretty sure Mellene would decline the request.

A sullen Mellene slouched shoulders. “You’re not ging missing! . . .But if you want me to play pretend, the answer is a big no. I’m sorry, but I’m too leary of your niceness spiel. Too often, being kind or fair is seen as weakness. They signal an opportunity for others to take advantage. . . . I’ll never have the interest in promoting kindness and fairness you have. . . . You need to find someone who sees things as you do.”

She’s right, I told myself as I lightly pressed a fist into a cupped hand. “Please know I see you as proof, Mellene, that someone can be a nice person without being gung ho over niceness.”

That wasn’t what Mellene wanted to hear. Suddenly irate, she spoke forcefully. “No, I’m not proof of that! I often make getting ahead what’s most important,” she assured before looking away. “The fact that I feel bad for having refused you isn’t proof of an inner me

who wants to show more niceness. . . . Though I’ve got more money than I need, I’m ready to do what it takes to get more, way more! More honestly put, I’m ready to be unkind and unfair!”

Both downhearted, Mellene and I looked toward the ground, unaware Andrean had approached.

“I go to Granddad’s niceness site often,” informed Andrean, prompting Mellene and I to look up. “The stuff there makes sense to me. . . . I could keep the site going. Eventually, I could add to it.”

“You’ve been eavesdropping!” accused Mellene, worried that Andrean heard her spout her willingness not to be a nice.

“Yes, my iPod needs recharging,” admitted Andrean, facing her mother. “I haven’t told you and Dad I go to the site because Dad got annoyed the few times the site was mentioned. I remember him angrily saying it’s a bunch of bunk. . . . Though I heard what you just said, I don’t believe you feel the same way about the site as Dad. . . . Why couldn’t we not tell Dad I’m keeping the site going?” asked Andrean before stepping toward me. . . . “Do you believe I could keep the site going, Granddad?”

Though wanting to delight in Andrea’s willingness to continue the site, I knew it was best to stoically let Mellene mull what Andrean had said. “I’d be honored, Andrean, but it’s your mother’s decision,” I softly answered.

Turning to her mom, Andrean was earnest. “I’ve read everything at the site. I get it! . . . Maybe having a youngster keep up the site and eventually add to it will get kids to give the site a try. . . . Please let me try!” she pleaded before again looking my way. “If your plans to leave Earth change we could be a team, right Granddad?”

I faintly nodded yes, then glanced meekly at Mellene.

Mellene hesitated, then expressed concern. “The kind and fair niceness encouraged at the site makes it easy for not nice people, like bullies, to be unkind and unfair. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Andrean. . . . You need to begin to realize being nice isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Andrean persisted. “I know niceness won’t always help me get along with others.”

Mellene sighed, indicating she was weakening.

“Both you and your Mom have said things that make sense, Andrean,” I offered, trying to appear neutral.

Andrean held her ground. “There’s something often repeated at the site that makes a lot of sense to me: It’s this: Because we know when we’re not nice, we can’t do so without feeling less OK about ourselves. . . . That’s true for me! I get down in the dumps whenever I’m unkind or unfair. I like myself best when I’m nice. . . . Wanting to help people see themselves be nice makes sense to me.”

Mellene poked at her blouse while again shaking her head, then said something surprising: “This is probably a big mistake, but I’m willing to let you give it a try, Andrean. Just remember, you’re on your own. Promise that if Dad somehow finds out, you’ll stop without a fuss. . . . No doubt I’m breaking an important parenting rule by having us keep your involvement a secret!”

Andrean was elated. “I promise! Thanks Mom!” she assured before turning toward me. “Are you really going to another world, Granddad?”

“If I’m suddenly nowhere to be found, you’ll have your answer. All I know for sure is that my departure, if it occurs, will be very soon. I’ll send you the info you’ll need to log into the site not only to make changes and additions but also to pull up rare emails. No matter what others say, remember to stay nice—true to the mission of the site. . . . In the event I don’t depart, we’ll work on the site together,” I promised before turning to Mellene. “My bank account is in both our names, Mellene. It’s just a few thousand. I’ll mail you needed info and the key to my apartment. The only thing of worth is my laptop and printer which, of course, Andrean will need. Hard copies of site materials are in a red container.”

Mellene humored me with a pleasant good-bye. “Well, everything seems planned. Time for Andrean and I to scoot.”

“I’ll miss you both,” I assured, prompting only Andrean to step toward me with arms extended. While hugging Andrean, I gave Mellene a warm smile.

When I arrived at the park the next day, Kezz waved as I headed toward her. We were soon sitting next to each other on the bench we’d occupied two days earlier.

“My meeting with my daughter and granddaughter went well. Though she believed I was being duped, Mellene agreed to let a very willing Andrean take over the site,” I reported.

“So, you’re ready to move on,” declared Kezz.

“I’m skittish-ready. Whether foolish or fortunate, I intend to be nice to myself. After all, spending time with you has a pleasant adventure,” I assured.

“Spoken like a true niceologist. . . . Well, time for your uncertainty to be dealt with,” declared Kezz. “Let’s lean back, close eyes, and take a few deep breaths,” she instructed. A minute or so later, she spoke with confidence: “We trust niceness,” she reassured.

I do trust niceness; it’s the true source of tranquility, I told myself.

Kezz spoke in a whisper. “We’re immersing ourselves in our desire to humbly bring about greater kindness and fairness.”

While pondering the wonder of a niceness that I had long thought gave humans purpose, I felt Kezz gently press a palm against my forehead. Unseen by me, she pressed her other palm against her own forehead.

Kezz continued. “We’re imagining a peaceful homebase park whisked to us. . . . We’re letting the incredible safety and joy possible when kindness and fairness are greatly valued flow over us. . . . We’re there!” she announced.

Suddenly, a wave of tenderness engulfed me. “Yes, we’re there!” I echoed while slowly opening eyes and finding I was in a time and place of much splendor. . . . Sprawling, soothing pastel shades of green, red and yellow gave the landscape unimaginable beauty. Flower-covered hills provided an encircling, comforting outer landscape. Above, a light blue sky surrounded a tangerine sun. To our right, two large cream-colored moons sat close to the horizon, appearing to be a short flight away.

“Residents do much more than gaze and stroll in our parks,” noted Kezz.

“Much healing occurs here, doesn’t it?” I added in amazement.

“Yes, our parks are day-and-night outdoor havens—day and night places to rejuvenate. Their soothing greenery and shaded paths allow for lengthy meditative thoughts and visions. . . . Even better, they bring about the humble wonderment that nurtures self-worth,” noted Kezz.

I suddenly found myself wishing children were playing. “That only niceologists reside here is understandable, but . . . .”

Kezz gently completed my comment. “But wouldn’t it be wonderful to have children frolicking about? Keep in mind that each time a world turns the ready-for-change corner, such parks are undertaken. Their creation is evidence of evolution. . . . Would you like to see not only the residence we’ve prepared for you but also the orbiter in which you’ll circle an assigned planet?”

“Sure. It’s all unbelievably amazing,” I noted while watching what appeared to be a graceful lime- and violet-colored pheasant glide over head. “That bird is beautiful. The park is calming. That I’m actually here is astonishing. A simple thanks seems so inadequate,” I carried on.

“I need to thank you, Nettles. Recruiting you has been a honor. Tomorrow I’ll bring you to the health center for an initial top to bottom evaluation. We need to get your regeneration underway and a transporter placed in your palm.”

In just a few days, I was aboard a ten-foot-in-diameter glowing orbiter. While gently pressing palm to forehead, I called for transport to the planet I had been assigned. Suddenly in orbit around a world similar to Earth, I took a few full breaths. Looking out a window, I marveled at the planet below. Then, while nestling into a contoured chair’s padding, I adjusted the viewing screen in front of me. “Just do what you’ll be suggesting they do: Be a nice person,” I coached myself.

Lightly tapping a yellow dashboard icon, I began. “Hello out there. As you’ve been told, I’m broadcasting from an orbiter circling your intriguing planet. . . . You’ve worked hard to move closer and closer to truly relying on kindness and fairness. . . . Congratulations! You deserve much praise. . . . Again, I’m here to contribute to the healthy strides you’ve been taking. Thanks to your diligent effort, the hoped-for world you’ve sought, on which niceness will be a priority, is within your reach. . . . If you tune in regularly, you’ll hear an ongoing discussion that explores ways to improve upon and adhere to the upgraded survival strategies you’ve already identified. Commiting more and more to such ways will help you enter an age of personal serenity and global harmony—a remarkable age in which kindness and fairness are seen as the best ways to replenish a loss of feeling able and close . . . . Let’s get started by exploring why there’s no way not to be nice without not liking ourselves less,”. . . . I see all the transmission lines are lit, so lets start taking calls.”

Epilogue

Sitting on the same bench Kezz and I occupied 65-years earlier, I watched two squirrels scoot up a tree, then show great agility by playfully leaping from branch to branch. “There is much wonder on Earth,” I reminisced while waiting for an elder Andrean to show up for her daily stroll.

Soon, with the help of a cane, Andrean approached. “Hello, Andrean!” I called out, guessing she might not recognize the thirtyish version me.

Andrean squinted as she trudged closer.

“It’s Granddad! I’ve returned to recruit you!” I revealed. “Look into my eyes. Listen to my voice. The human ETs that recruited me made me younger and healthier. They’ll do the same for you. . . . Your dedication to the niceness site has been admirable. You’re seen as a full-fledged niceologist. . . . Are you ready to make a difference on worlds merely in need of some urging?”

Andrean stood stunned., then spoke suspiciously “So, you somehow learned what my granddad told my mom and me in this park long ago.”

She needs evidence, told myself. “No doubt blurting my return is a shocker. Sorry about that. Consider the fact I can recall a young teen whose eavesdropping in this very park helped bring about her mother’s willingness to let the teen take over her granddad’s niceness site,” I suggested.

Straining eyes, Andrean suddenly saw that I did, in fact, somewhat resemble her granddad. “No one knows about my eavesdropping except Mom and Granddad, and both passed away before you were born!”

“What your mother thought was wishful thinking on my part was actually true. No one ever found my body, right? . . . The only way for me to know about the eavesdropping is for me to actually be Granddad. . . . How about considering my return to be unlikely, but not impossible?” I recommended, repeating what Kezz had said to me.

“Maybe Granddad was one of the many who go missing,” faintly suggested Andrean.

“You did a terrific job continuing the site,” I replied with a grin.

Somehow, the compliment left Andrean amazed. “It is you!” she realized with excitement.

“Yes!” I confirmed.

“I failed to find a way to have the site prompt the niceness awakening you had hoped for,” declared a slumping Andrean.

“Like me, you expected too much of yourself. I should have better emphasized that the persistent misguidedness preferred by Earth-humans would long be unwavering. . . . Despite the doldrums you faced, you stuck with the site, often coming up with creative attempts to prod interest. You’ve accomplished much. . . . I know about Terril—the neighborhood teen you’ve mentored. He’s ready to take over the site. Finding him was quite fortunate. . . . So, ready for a new adventure?” I offered.

“Just like that?” answered Andrean with a chuckle.

“Our send-off will be simple,” I noted. “After we close eyes and relax bodies, I’ll rest one of my palms on your forehead and the other palm on my forehead. Then, a bit of guided imagery will complete the transport process. . . . “Though I’ll be the only one known by you, you’ll find yourself among a colony of soulmates. Best of all, you’ll be given a chance to counsel a planet with humans ready to hear what you have to say about niceness,” I assured.

“It’s all so wonderful!” declared Andrean, wanting to believe what she was being told. “Where would I go if I passed away on Earth?” she wondered as she sat next to me.

“It’s only a guess, but maybe death is just an arrival at a place that suits our level of striving to trust in and commit to greater niceness,” I answered.

“My poor health and the fact that Terril has already assumed control of the site makes leaving Earth well-timed. . . . I’ve repeatedly told him not to expect too much of himself,” noted Andrean.

“You’ve given good guidance, Andrean,” I noted.

Andean shared her excitement. “It’s possible you really have returned for me! ”

I patted the back of Andrean’s hand while warmly smiling. “Possibility is about to become reality. There’s much hoped for kindness and fairness to be encouraged.”

The End

Things To Think About

1. Why was Nettles disheartened before meeting Kezz?

2. What did Kezz say was necessary for a planet to benefit from a niceologist?

3. What did Kezz about the “distance-problem?”

4. Why do you think Mellene let Andrean take over the website?

5. When are people likely to expect too much of themselves?