Make IT Real!, Sander R.B.E. Beals [uplifting novels .TXT] 📗

be able to hop right onto one of the rafts. The girls are not amused. They wanted to look around a bit, make some photos of the stone giants, with them posing alongside them. We give them plenty of time, and spend it watching them thoroughly enjoying themselves. It's a sight that I can enjoy all day.

I've had my own fascination with the mysterious stone statues: back in college, during the crafts class, I'd spent several lessons carving my very own Easter statue from a block of chalk. I always did get good grades in that class, but that statue topped it off: A+.

As the girls come in looking rather flushed, Gina provides them with drinks, which go down well. In the mean time I wonder at the numerous links between life up there, and life down here. Apparently, those two worlds are definitely not closed systems. Together we walk to the rafts, carrying our bags along. Jane hands me hers too, so she'll have her hands free to play the photographer. It is quite a challenge, to board the raft. The design is exactly like the ancient design of the Easter Islanders, just a huge bundle of reeds, that provides adequate buoyancy. After the necessary struggle, we all are on top of the contraption, and the ferrymen proceed to row us to our destination.

I can see it lying there in the distance: a majestic city, that combines an ancient facade with elements that appear to have been added at a much later date. It would turn out later, that I'd guessed the distance to the city completely wrong. The reason of that is, that in fact, the city is about twice the size that I'd estimated it to be. In itself that is not surprising, because the inhabitants make the Harlem Globetrotters look like garden gnomes.....

As a result, our trip there takes over an hour, an hour that the rowers constantly move their ores. I sympathize with them, because their way of rowing, like the gondoliers in Venice, isn't the most relaxing activity. And they keep it up the entire way! “Help! Valerie's fallen in!” Jane's voice clearly displays her absolute panic. One of the rowers doesn't waste time, and goes in after her. We all see his bronzed body cut through the waves as if nothing can stop him. Valerie climbs onto his back, and he swims back to the raft. His colleague lets down a rope, and the athletic giant climbs up, as if he didn't notice the girl still dangling from his neck. Valerie is awfully quiet, apparently she's had quite a scare. Luckily for her, the Smoky Sun is still in it's proper place, and quickly dries her clothes. By the time we reach Shamballah, no one would have known that she's taken an involuntary bath.

We moor at the end of the pier, and I step into a situation that is quite unusual for me: normally, I look down on people, quite literally. Now, I am among people that I can finally look up to. The average Shamballan measures between ten and twelve feet, but their demeanor is ever so gentle. Anyway, tonight I'll have no trouble at all to fit in my bed. Kayim takes us into town, through broad streets, that appear medieval. By now I've gotten used to the absence of advertising, that is so characteristic down here. Commerce is something that becomes wholly unnecessary, in a society where competition has been obliterated. The only few areas where there still is competition, are some sports events, but unlike topside, even sports isn't big business. Just people having fun, enjoying what they do best, or at least what they most love to do. Valerie is back to her cheerful self, singing along with the music on her MP3 player which survived the involuntary bath remarkably well. We get to a building, that vibrates with hospitality. Exactly the kind of atmosphere that will attract guests to a hotel. We enter through the doors fit for giants, and look up over the counter to the person behind the desk. She welcomes us to the hotel, and asks for our intentions. Briefly we confer, and decide to stay two nights. That will be ample time to conclude our sight-seeing trip here. I ask the lady if she needs something in return, and she thinks about it for a moment. “That girl has a great singing voice”, she finally says: “Could you ask her to sing for our guests tomorrow night?” Valerie hasn't heard because of the music, so we tell her to remove the headphones. At first she doesn't want to do it, but a little persuasion goes a long way, and five minutes later, the deal is done.

We are led up to our rooms on the seventh floor, which have a great view as they are so high up in the air. And I had been right, I'll have no trouble fitting into my bed tonight: we'll be sleeping like Jamaicans, suspended between the walls in king-size hammocks. The only thing that spoils that image, is the absence of palm trees on either side.

“Dad, I've got a bit of a problem”, Valerie enters my room. She wants to look her best for the performance tomorrow night, but has nothing in her baggage that can really blow away her audience. “Did you look around when we were downstairs?”, I ask her. “No”, comes the timid answer. I hug my darling, and remind her that humans and Shamballans dress totally different. So even her most average clothing will suffice. Besides, the crowd will mainly be coming to hear her sing, and she has a voice that will make them forget anything else. “But what about music”, my eldest interjects. “They're bound not to know my music, and I haven't heard one note of theirs.” I ask her for her MP3 player, and take it downstairs to the lady that has gotten her to sing. She listens to my story, and nods in agreement. “True, she wouldn't be able to sing to our music, it's entirely too low for her”, she says. “But I know someone who can help”, she says. I never noticed her call anybody in, but only moments later I watch a normal human enter the lobby. The hostess introduces him as the hotel's handyman. He takes me to the hall where Valerie will be performing tomorrow night. Mike the handyman is about my size, and tells me that he's come here from the city of London, somewhere near the turn of the nineteenth century. I briefly wonder at the obvious similarity between this Mike, and the one I'd spoken to earlier. They couldn't be the same, but could they somehow be connected? He'd drifted across Inner Earth for about six years, to finally settle down here in Shamballah the Lesser, mainly because he felt totally at ease amongst the giants. I look around the hall, but can not detect anything that even remotely resembles a PA system.

“It's there, you just don't know where to look”, Mike says, and grins. He tells me that the sphere in the center of the room is able to pick up sounds from anywhere in the hall, and distribute them evenly across the entire room. I show him the MP3 player, and it's minuscule earpieces. “If this is on stage, will you be able to pick it up as well?”, I ask. “Won't know till I hear it now, do I?” is his amused answer. I play him one of Valerie's tunes, and he nods in agreement. “Yep, that'll work. Just go to the stage, and set it to play some more”. I walk over, and climb the stairs onto the stage. No taking two steps at a time here, like I normally do. When the player is set up, I give Mike a signal, and he fidgets with the sphere in the center. Silence at first, then the sensation of the music being tuned in. Seconds later the tones of Abba's Dancing Queen fill every nook and cranny of the Grand Hall. “Guess we're set up”, I think and return with the MP3 player to Mike. He agrees, but mentions the fact that he'll need to re-tune the sphere again when Valerie is on stage. After all, we want to hear not just the music, but the girl's marvelous voice as well.

With that problem out of the way I return to my room, just in time to dress before dinner. When we come in, there is a bit of confusion, because the tables and chairs are all suited for our large hosts, and not for us tiny guests. Mike is called in, who summons some more folks. Together they clear a corner of the dining room, and bring in right-sized furniture. I wonder where they've gotten that on such short notice, but don't wreck my mind over it. Most likely they've dealt with people like us before, or they've made the stuff on the spot. During dinner I watch Valerie toy with her food, which is so very unlike her. I ask what she is going to sing tomorrow. The girl thinks long and hard, and almost forgets to eat as a result of it. Artists are suggested, and discarded again as being deemed inappropriate down here. Finally, I suggest that she picks what she wants to sing, regardless of the largely unknown musical preference of her audience. Her face immediately lights up: “Then it will be Tokio Hotel”, she says decidedly. She fell in love with those guys a few years ago, and knows most of their lyrics by heart, in both English and German. With that matter out of the way, dinner becomes a feast, and after it's finished, I can honestly say that I've never seen Valerie eat quite that much. She is so stuffed, that she has to lie down for a while, which leaves us time to prepare a little surprise for the young lady. Jane asks the hostess to get her onto the external Web, and retrieves a few images of the German band. With them we go to Mike, and ask him if he can do something with them to liven up the stage for Valerie's performance. The handyman looks at the images, and rubs his chin. Then he tells us to come back in about half an hour.

Since there is nothing else to do for now, Gina, Kayim, Jane and me step into the streets, and walk around for a while. Again, I'm struck by the very friendly nature of the people here. Although us midgets stick out like a sore thumb, each and every one of the twelve foot giants greets us in passing. We walk across the big cobblestones, enjoying the excellent weather. The ten to twenty percent cloud cover, that exists here all year round, makes for a beautiful summer's day. Every now and then, beautiful flowers grow on the squares we pass by. As Jane is telling us to stand behind the flowers, so she can photograph us, a Shamballan taps her on the shoulder. “Wouldn't you rather be standing out there with them? I'm sure I can help you by operating that device of yours, whatever it is..”, she says in a friendly voice. Jane explains the workings of the camera, but then suddenly remembers the self-exposure function. So instead of handing it to the helpful being, she invites her to stand on our side, and places the camera on a ledge not three meters away. We all watch the red light, counting down the seconds, and laugh heartfelt the moment the counting stops. Just another memento of a holiday we'll never forget.

By now, it's about time to return to the hotel. While Kayim and the ladies go up to get dressed for Valerie's premiere performance, I quickly check on Mike. He will only tell me that the surprise is ready, but that it will