As she walked along the path between the blue gums, stopping now and then, to look up and explore the branches for Koalas, she chanced upon an unusual sight. High in a tree, about twenty meters above, there appeared to be a lounge chair recliner, with foot and calf rest extended. It was hard to tell from the ground, but as she watched, she became certain that someone was in the chair, reading a newspaper. Her parents had always told her not to speak to strangers, and ironically this could be no stranger, yet she felt compelled to say hello. She moved away from the base of the tree a little, and yelled up, “Hello,” and then almost as an afterthought, yelled “beautiful day.”
The man in the chair made no response and gave no indication that he had heard her. So, she tried again, yelling a little louder, “Hello,” and this time she added, “are you God?” The man snapped the newspaper, folded it and put it to one side. Put the chair into an upright position, stood and slowly floated down to the ground. He seemed to be of average height, middle aged, overweight, with the type of beard that pilgrims had in old black and white movies. He looked at her and said: “Why would I be God?” She assumed this to be a question, and the answer seemed obvious to her, but before she could say so, he cut her off by saying, “I mean, why would I want to be God of this mess?” For this she had no answer, and so asked: “What mess?”
He looked puzzled, as if not understanding the question, then whispered, “What do you hear?” “I hear the birds singing, the water running over the river rocks, and the wind blowing through the leaves above,” she replied. “What do you smell?” he inquired. “I smell the earth at my feet, and the blossoms on the bushes around me.” “What do you feel?” he asked. She smiled and said: “I feel happy.” He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to discern if she was lying. Then he looked about them as though looking through the trees, without seeing them at all, and enquired, “Where are we?” She was not suspicious by nature, but suspected she was being tested in some manner and asked: “Is this a trick question?” He looked at her again, and enquired with a little more intensity, “Where are, you?” This question was even stranger than the last, but she answered saying, “I am in a blue gum forest.” He made no sign of recall or awareness and seemed to her, unfocussed as if in a daydream. Thinking that turnabout is fair play, she asked: “Where are you?” He looked at her with new focus and said: “I am in my personal dome, at my desk, surrounded by walls of glass. Above me float red and black clouds, and water laps at my feet. All around me I hear waves, but I see no sea.”
From a distance, she heard her mother call, “Come a long slow poke, you’re falling behind.” She turned to see her parents waiving at her, from further along the path. Twisted back to the man, to say goodbye, but found no one. Looking up into the tree, she saw no chair. But looking down at the ground she found the imprints of his boots on the dusty path, and beside them a small rainbow coloured metal disc, no bigger than a button. She picked up the disc and placed it into her pocket with the other things that interested her and ran along the path to catch up with her parents.