Jason Matthews
What if you could create a universe - a miniature, self-enclosed universe? Imagine having probing cameras that could focus to any star or planet looking for life. And once you found life, what if you could accelerate time and watch it evolve?
What might you find? Primordial soup. Strange beings. Alien societies. Profound wisdom.
These are not the questions Jon Gruber ponders as he pedals to his next carpentry job. Over thirty, unmarried, he doesn’t even own a car. But a new assignment challenges him to rethink his place in the world. Is he a loser? Or is he about to become a partner in an experiment of phenomenal discovery?
Webster Adams, Jon’s client, astronomer, inventor, performs such an experiment. To Webster’s amazement, he finds planets and cultures beyond his wildest dreams. His little universe turns into a discovery machine - an overnight goldmine. He and his crew observe societies that evolve so far past them on levels of technology and spirituality, that the world will be forever changed.
Webster’s lovely daughter, Whitney, also overwhelms Jon. She opens his eyes to the deeper meanings within the experiment - to the divine nature and connectedness of all life, by finding the most advanced beings within the project - the spirit guides from Theta 7.
The Big Bang is a God-game at multiple levels. For Webster Adams, one question immediately comes to light. “If I can create a universe,” he wonders, “then who created ours?”
The debate between evolution and creation is the subtle undertone throughout Webster’s story. Can it be proven that God exists? Or is life a random, free-flowing evolution with no design? Along with Jon, you, the reader, will be presented a new perspective on life and your role in the great mystery of the universe.
Jason Matthews was born in North Carolina in 1967. He graduated from UNC-Chapel Hill in ’90 with a degree in film and television. He originally wrote The Big Bang as a screenplay under the title The Universe Generator, envisioning the story as a motion picture. He is currently writing the sequel, Jim’s Life, and has written other screenplays including Minor Extremes, and children’s stories like Shep Dreams of Home.
His hope is for The Big Bang; Notes From Looking Within to be a source for discussions of philosophy at many levels and an inspiration for others to consider their role in the universe.
Jason lives in Truckee California with his wife, Jana and daughters, Shelby and Devan. They enjoy soccer, skiing, Texas Hold’em, and routing for the Tarheels.
He can be contacted through his website, www.cosmicforceproductions.com
“We have society! Pinching myself. Yesterday - they were primates. Grooming parasites, eating reeds. Today they’re driving! Just fifty thousand orbits!? How could they evolve so quickly? I need to know. We looked for the link but nothing yet. Possible I missed something, but what? Jim’s going over the logs, maybe he’ll find it. Mind’s a blur - thoughts won’t stop - could go on all night, need to rest. Hope I can. Wish Rose could have seen this.” - from p. 66 of Webster Adams’s journal.
The Concept
It was late winter. My legs labored to turn the pedals on my bicycle as the frigid air bit into my cheeks and knuckles. I cursed myself for leaving my hat and gloves at the bar the night before. I rode slowly, steering with one hand while warming the other in my pocket until frostbite forced a switch. It didn’t matter how cold it was. I needed the work. My stomach reminded me that it needed food, real food. It was tired of stale crackers and cheap beer. I rode on through the frost.
I rode my bicycle everywhere. I even fashioned leather saddlebags over the front and rear tires to carry my essential tools. I was the only carpenter I knew without a truck. Yet with two bags of basic tools, I could accomplish almost any job. From that, I felt some pride. I pedaled quickly past a busy construction site and endured the jeers from workers dressed in expensive coveralls, laughing at me as they leaned against new trucks, sipping their hot drinks. The aroma of fine coffee made my stomach grumble. I thought of my situation and felt a bit angry.
I wondered if I was a loser. Success meant having things like a good job, a wife, a home, kids, and pets. I was over thirty and had none of those. I didn’t even own a car. But I took pride in limited needs and thought the world would be a better place if more people were like me, common and somewhat content. T-shirts and jeans filled the closet in my apartment, and I liked it that way.
Certainly I wasn’t a success. Was I a loser, though? That was a good question. The thought was going through my mind as I pulled up, hungry and half-frozen, to his driveway for my first meeting with Webster Adams.
Adams hired me as a handyman. He got my name from his neighbor, an elderly woman who had employed me in the past. He came out to meet me in the driveway, walking quickly in the brisk air, wearing a collar shirt and slacks. He was taller than average and thin. He appeared to be in his late fifties. His hair was black and wavy, mixed with streaks of gray. He had very blue eyes.
Adams smiled awkwardly as he surveyed my bicycle. Then he stuck out his hand and shook mine.
“Your hand is freezing,” he observed, gripping mine harder than I wanted, not sensing the pain of near frostbite that I was experiencing.
I smiled and replied, “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Jon Gruber.”
“Interesting transportation, Mr. Gruber. Especially in this weather.” His look was one of admiration and concern. I suspected he was deciding whether he had made a mistake in hiring me.
“Gets me from point A to B,” I said, disconnecting the front leather bag. I slung it over my shoulder, hoping to instill some confidence in Adams.
He led me into his house. The entry had a cathedral ceiling with stained glass windows that filled the downstairs with an array of colors, like walking through a rainbow. The wooden floor was finely polished. My footsteps echoed softly as I followed him down the hallway.
“Should I take off my shoes?” I asked. Adams shook his head no.
On the walls hung photos of a happy family: man, wife, and pretty daughter. The stairwell was filled with paintings of planets, nebulas, and constellations, things I knew nothing about. Adams paused briefly on the stairs as he passed the largest of the paintings, a planet with a purple body and half-finished blue rings around it. It was a lovely piece of work, though I wondered why it was unfinished. He stared at it for a moment, then continued up.
The top floor was immaculate, with marble counters, leather couches, and a plush carpet that led to a stone hearth and fireplace, where a small fire crackled. I looked around at the trophies of a successful man and wondered if I would ever have those things.
“I want to tear down this wall that separates the kitchen from the great room,” Adams explained. “The idea is to make it one big space.”
“I can do that.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah.”
“How would you get the materials here?”
“Delivery.”
“What would you recommend?” he asked.
I imagined the finished product and said, “I’ll rip out the wallboard and the studs to here, then frame a bar that stretches toward the middle. Then I’ll rewire the electrical, texture, paint, and whatnot.”
He ended by saying, “I want it to be done well, Jon.”
I answered with a promise that never failed. “Sir, if you’re not delighted with the finished product, you don’t have to pay me.”
Adams laughed at my guarantee, but a look of ease came to his face. Then he pointed at the counter to a plate full of cookies.
“Help yourself,” he said. “The neighbor brought them over.”
Once he looked away, I took three and stuffed them in my mouth. Fuel for good work, I thought.
I jogged downstairs and grabbed the remaining bag of tools off of my bike. I anticipated the ride home without the heavy tools or the bitter cold. I reminded myself to stop by the Star Bar and pick up my hat and gloves. Samantha would hold them for me. Then I headed back upstairs and began demolishing the wall that enclosed his kitchen. Adams watched me briefly, then went to his office.
After destroying the wall, I hauled the debris down to the garage. The place was full of circuits and devices, like a high-tech machine shop. I guessed that Adams was an inventor. He came down and saw me staring at things. He showed me an oscillating microscope and tried to explain how it worked. I stood there nodding along as if I understood what he was saying.
I worked for him for a week. He had a quiet but pleasant nature, introverted. He often seemed absorbed in thought as he came and left frequently during those days, preoccupied with his latest project. Sometimes he would jot notes in a little brown booklet. I heard him mumbling to himself as he read over the notes, complex fragments that I could not begin to understand.
“That can’t be? Portal from ct over zero at y parsec?” Adams said once in passing.
“Excuse me?” I asked with a paintbrush in hand.
“Sorry, Jon. Just thinking out loud.”
“No problem. Let me know if I can help with anything,” I said. Adams grinned slightly, appreciating my joke.
Adams was highly educated and used to wealth. I was not. But we felt comfortable with each other. We started off with the usual chat about weather and sports. Eventually we talked about most anything. He liked to pay for lunch to be delivered. He never ate all of his and always offered the rest to me. We made an odd couple, but we had good talks and laughs, and I sensed we were becoming friends. As the job came to a close, I sensed he had something he wanted to ask me, but never did I expect what he was about to say. I remember how clueless I felt when he first brought up the subject.
“Jon, have you ever wondered how the universe began?” Adams asked me on the final day. He was holding a panel for the bar in place as I set the nails.
“What do you mean?” I asked, continuing to pound away.
“The origin of the stars and planets. Does that stuff interest you?”
“A little.” I knew that we were on a sphere that went around the sun once a year, and that space was really huge. Beyond that, what was there to think about?
“What do you know about the Big Bang?”
“That was when the universe started, right?” I hit the nail but bent it sideways.
“That’s right,” Adams said, staring at me. His directness made me uncomfortable, but it was just his way, intense and passionate about his ideas.
“Why do you ask?”
Adams became excited as he spoke. “Imagine watching the universe begin. What if you could go back in time about ten billion years, and see it all happen? Do you have any idea what that would be like?”
“Not exactly.”
“It all began with a piece of matter that was infinitely small and infinitely dense.” Adams pressed his fingers in a tight spot to convey his message. “Then it exploded in brilliant light! Everything that exists came from that tiny piece of dense matter. Everything! Stars, planets, entire galaxies came from that pinpoint of matter.”
“Sounds logical,” I said. It didn’t, of course. How could everything have started from one tiny spot?
I pounded the last nail and made sure the panel was secure.
“Jon, what would you say if I told you I’m attempting to reproduce the Big Bang? In miniature, of course.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m recreating the Big Bang. I’m simulating a universe.”
“For real?”
Simulate a universe? I knew Adams was an inventor, but this seemed impossible.
“Would you like to see the project?”
“Maybe.”
“You can stay on the clock, if that makes a difference.”
I put my hammer down and took off my tool-belt. We left the house and hopped into his truck, a new machine with only a few scuff marks in the bed. Adams drove as he explained the origin of the universe. I listened carefully, but the lecture was way over my head.
We passed the last of the buildings and houses in our town and continued into the countryside for a few minutes. I sat silently, wondering where this project would be and what it would be like. Adams let the silence extend. Finally, he turned onto a dirt path. We followed it to the end and arrived at the only dwelling in sight.
“Here it is,” he announced.
