Achilles takes the painting off the easel and sets it carefully on the ground. On the easel is another canvas. It is a painting of a baseball diamond, and the ten planets are the players and umpire. Jupiter is pitcher and Neptune the catcher. Mars guards first; the Sun is at second; Mercury plays shortstop while Venus covers third. Saturn plays right field; the Moon is in center field, and Uranus covers left field. Pluto is the umpire.
Achilles points at the painting. "This is the foundation for my system. You can also think of it as a game. I want you to try it so that you will experience subjectivity."
"Why not."
"You are the batter, and the planets form the opposing team. When a ball is pitched, you must decide where you will hit it. It's the decision that counts, for the ball will go where you choose. The members of the opposing team will behave according to their personality. Oh, and you get three outs."
John steps up to the plate, swinging the bat. He looks out over the diamond. Where shall he place the first pitch? The Moon, playing center field, can move quickly to either side. Both Saturn and Uranus move more slowly. Uranus, however, is often erratic, unpredictable. If he can line one to left field perhaps Uranus cannot throw it to first base quickly enough.
Jupiter warms up. John dusts off the plate. The ball is on its way. John hits it squarely--a line drive to left field. Mercury, leaping high into the air as if he had wings, catches the ball and, while still in the air, throws it directly to Mars at first base. One out!
John has forgotten about the members of the infield and their abilities. This time I will hit a line drive over Saturn's head. By the time he runs back to fetch it, I'll be on first. He smiles with certainty.
Neptune squats, giving a sign to the pitcher. The ball is on its way. Crack. A sharp drive goes over Saturn's head. But when it is directly over Saturn, the ball stops in mid-air as if frozen in place. Saturn reaches up grabbing the ball and throwing it to Mars in one move. Two outs!
The players are superb, John thinks. They could win the world series. What chance do I have? If I can only find an open space. Maybe a bunt will work. The pitcher is big and slow. I'll try a slow roller down first base line. "Play ball," yells Pluto the umpire.
A slow, low pitch is thrown by Jupiter. John taps it lightly. The ball bounces along the first base line. Jupiter expands quickly until he covers the first base line. He grabs the ball and shovels it over to Mars. Three outs!
Achilles taps John on the shoulder. "Let's go to the showers." John looks up and realizes that he is standing by the easel with its painting of a baseball diamond.
"Better luck next time, John. Now let me show you what lies behind this game of subjectivity." Achilles takes the painting off the easel, placing it on the ground. On the easel is a mirror. John looks into the mirror and sees a chess game in progress. He cannot see the players, but only the chess pieces on the board.
John looks carefully at the position of the pieces. He hears Achilles say, "Time shall be no more." Turning around, he finds that Achilles has disappeared. John is now standing in a clover field. A few feet away is Mary Rainbow dressed in the clothes of a little girl, somewhat like his image of Little Bo Peep or perhaps Mary and her lamb. But there is no lamb, only Mary standing with a forlorn look on her face. John feels like asking her what has happened to her lamb, but realizes that she is in no mood for jokes.
"Mary. What are you doing here?"
"I have to get to the finish line. Over there."
"Are you racing a tortoise?" And John, looking around, half expects to see the tortoise.
"No, I'm not racing anything, except maybe time. Can you help me. I'm stuck."
He goes over to her.
"I can't lift my feet from the ground."
John reaches down, taking hold of her right ankle with both hands and pulls up. Her foot is stuck tight to the ground. Breathing deeply, he tugs on the foot. It comes loose. He places it forward. Then straining, he pulls the left foot loose, placing it beside the right foot. But both feet freeze to the ground again.
"We'll get nowhere this way," he says.
"Oh, everyone is depending on me," she cries. "What shall 1 do?"
"Let me carry you piggy back." John lifts her right foot off the ground, bends down, places it over his shoulder. Then he lifts her left foot and, balancing her on his shoulders, stands up. At first she feels light. This will be a breeze, he thinks. But as they move through the clover field, Mary becomes heavier and heavier. He is bending under the weight.
"Can you make it to the daisies over there? I can walk through the daisies." She is worried that they both will be stuck in the clover.
With a sigh of relief John reaches the daisies and puts her down. They walk through the daisy patch until they come to a small creek. "Oh, no," she cries, "I can't cross the creek."
"Why not?"
"I just can't."
"I'll carry you again."
"No you won't."
"Don't you want to reach the finish line?"
"Of course I do. But I just can't, can't cross this creek."
"Oh, don't be so childish. Nothing will happen." He grabs her and tries to drag her, but she refuses to budge.
"Stop it, John! I'll hit you!" Mary swings her fists wildly.
He ducks underneath, grabbing her from behind, and starts to drag her toward the creek. She screams and flails her arms and legs. This is too much, he thinks, and so he lets go of her. Catching his breath, he glances around and for the first time notices other figures nearby, figures all dressed as chess pieces.
"Time shall be no more." Achilles' chanting echoes throughout the countryside, overlapping itself so that it sounds like a musical round.
"That was a mistake."
John turned, realizing that Od was speaking.
"You're right. That will cost her the game," Hank said.
John looked at the chess board and saw Mary's fifty-second move, P-B4 (f4). A sadness hung over the crowd in the Rainbow Inn. They could all see that the champion would now win the first game.