It was the eight of September in a year called 1981, and I was on my way home from school. All of a sudden I fell into a black hole.
- No, no, no, I don't mean a hole in the ground. I mean one of those astrophysical black holes, you know the ones where time stops. For one minute I was (as I said, if you were paying any attention) walking home from school, the next minute, abracadabra: There I was, wherever that was, lying in a bed in a totally strange room, and my mother and father were standing there, looking so concerned and strange in the face. I felt very drowsy. No doubt a side effect from dropping out of time and into a black hole.
My parents started telling me a strange story of how I had fallen of a horse and cracked my skull.
"Hello there…?! Get real!" I wanted to say,
"I've only been hanging around in this black hole for - for some time… Which year is this, by the way?" But I didn't say anything. It didn't seem to matter. - Surely another one of those side effects. Some nurse came in and measured my blood pressure, made a note on a chart and disappeared again.
My parents kept rambling on about this accident; how a Volkswagen Beetle had scared the horse into a gallop, how then that hoofed beast had fallen in a sudden turn to the left, and how little me had fallen with it. How in the wide world could I have been riding some stupid horse, when I had been in a black hole ever since my way home from school and now? It didn't make any sense, especially not the part about the Volkswagen Beetle. But it didn't matter, really.
"You nearly died!" my mother exclaimed, trying to bring some sign of comprehension into my drowsy, careless eyes. I answered her by falling asleep.
When I woke up again it was night. At least I assumed so, for it was dark outside, and a man in the bed right to me kept snoring and moaning betwixt and between. To my left a two year old was standing in his bed, holding on to the bars surrounding it, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Ueeeeeeeee (breath) Ueeeeeeeeeeee (breath) Ueeeeeeeeeeeee..."
"Oh, shut up, you brat!" I wanted to yell, but then some nurse came in and measured my blood pressure, made a note on a chart and disappeared again. I must have fallen asleep, for I woke up and it was daylight to be seen outside. The screaming brat was gone. Good riddance!
I felt something warm pouring slowly out of my left ear, and lifted my hand up to stop the trickling sensation. I looked at my finger. Blood? Could it be some kind of pressure difference in the black hole that made my ear bleed? I should remember to ask someone about that. It's not as if I'm any kind of expert on black holes. But in the meantime I decided to sleep some more. – Nothing better to do in this dull place.
I woke up in a different room. It was smaller, but had huge windows into the next room where some people sat looking at a panel in front of them. A man stood over me, saying how I should lift my arms up whenever I heard a sound from a pair of earphones that he put on my head. Good! I thought, finally some music and play. If there was one thing this place could use, it was more entertainment. So I nodded my wobbling head in content and said
"Are there any astrophysicists here?"
"No." The man smilingly shook his head and disappeared into the next room. So I lay there alone again, thinking of this and that, trying to remember to lift my arms whenever I heard a sound. But this was a silly game. It wasn't exactly rock'n roll they were playing, either. I must have fainted out of pure boredom.
When I came to, some nurse came in and measured my blood pressure, made a note on a chart and disappeared again. I was in yet another room. Perhaps they didn't know where to put time travelers like me. An old woman was in a bed on my right. She smiled at me when she heard I stirred, and then went back to reading her magazine. Now, why had they put me in the pediatrics ward? Had I been gone so long that everybody thought I had grown old? But no, my parents hadn't grown any older since my travel to the black hole. Good thing for them, by the way, as they were old enough as it was!
As if on cue, my mother walked in. My sister was with her, carrying some flowers wrapped in paper.
"Feeling any better? They moved you from the intensive care ward this morning." My mother looked calmer today. Intensive care my butt. As if they cared for much more than measuring my bloody blood pressure.
"Yes much better!" I said in the name of politeness. Had I been feeling bad at all? What a strange notion.
"Do you remember anything?" my sister said, she unwrapped the flowers and put them in a stainless steel vase on my night table. Now, how could I remember anything when no time to remember had passed? My answer was of course no. Not a thing. But some one had said something about falling off a beetle, hadn't they?
"No," my sister said, "you went riding on Bally Boy. And then he was scared by a Volkswagen Beetle and took off in a gallop, and then you both fell in a sudden turn."
"Bally Boy? You mean Lead?" I asked. Bally Boy was a large horse at the riding school, and he was so heavy and clumsy that we just called him Lead.
"Why was I ever riding him?" I wondered. Bally Boy was not the kind of horse just anyone rode on. A boy named Peter, whose parents owned the riding school, owned him. I was amazed that anyone could possibly have let me ride on Blyen.
"Apparently Peter asked you to take Bally Boy on a little walk. His parents have sent you some flowers, by the way." She pointed to one of the bouquets on my night table.
"You hit the asphalt rather hard." She handed me my wristwatch. The bracelet was OK, and the frame was OK, but all the contents and the glass were gone. I fingered with the remains of my pride, my very first digital watch. So this was what happened to watches when they were brought to a black hole. They exploded out of frustration for no time to measure?
Some nurse came in and measured my blood pressure, made a note on a chart and disappeared again. This took me so by surprise; I had to sleep a little to get over it. I woke up with a male nurse looming over me. He had a glass of milk in his hand.
"Here, drink this." He said and held the glass towards me. I looked at the milk. Usually I'm very found of milk, but just the idea of drinking it made my stomach turn.
"No thanks, I don't feel like it."
"Oh, come on," he persisted, "I was told to give you some milk. Drink up, it will do you a world of good." He formely pushed the glass in my face. Oh, what the heck! I thought, and forced myself to drink half the glass.
"There, you see, I told you it would do you good." He gleamed in self-righteousness. I answered him by bending over and throwing the milk up all over his shoes. Some nurse came in, probably to measure my blood pressure. Instead she had to go fetch a broom.
I felt my left ear. A little trickle of blood was still dripping out, but the blood had started to coagulate into a clog that blocked my hearing. So I put my good right ear into the pillow, and didn't bother to stay awake to see them cleaning up the mess they had made. I kept falling asleep and awakening for a week. Slowly the drowsiness started to disappear, and along with it the mindlessness. My parents and my sister had visited me regularly, over and over told me the story about how I went riding Blyen, and how we both fell in a sudden turn to the left. I had stopped asking if there was an astrophysicist around, in fear that they would send me a psychiatrist instead. I can't imagine that psychiatrists know much about black holes. Everybody - except me - seemed convinced that I suffered from amnesia, and since I didn't want to be stigmatized as a heretic, I played along. As I got better, they moved me to a bigger room, where five other patients entertained me. Not much to brag about. Eventually they took me off the intravenous feeding and started to give me some real food too. They wouldn't give me any milk, though. I can't help but wonder why. After a fortnight, the day came when my mother could finally take me home. There is no place more boring and enclosing than hospitals - except prisons maybe, but luckily I don’t know that for sure. What I do know is that I packed up my few belongings and went outside to the car with my mother. It was weird to be outside again. For a second I could very well imagine how the agoraphobics must feel.
"Can we stop by the stables on our way home?" I asked.
"But why on earth!?" My mother wondered.
"By the way, you should rest - doctor's orders."
"Just for five minutes?" I pleaded. "I do so want to say hello to Bally Boy." And since it is rather easy to indulge the sick and poorly, my mother agreed to a short stop.
"You can wait in the car if you like." I said when we got there.
"Yes, please." Mum has never been found of the dirt and smell in the stables. So I went inside alone.
There were no people there, and the horses stood quietly resting after having finished their midday meal. The only thing to interrupt the silence was the sound of some of them still chewing on their last remains of hay. I walked to the end of the stables where Bally Boy resided. And there he laid, staring into the nothingness, looking as if he had the best conscience in the world. He got up when he noticed me. He had some nasty wounds on his left side. I went in to him, and stroked his neck.
"Tell me, where have you been, Bally Boy?" I whispered.
"I know for sure, I have been in a black hole." He didn't answer of course. It's high above any horse's dignity to answer such questions from humans. So I patted him once more, before I left him to do whatever horses do when they do nothing.
And so I lived happily ever after - more or less at least, for I have never, ever - yet - met an astrophysicist who could answer my questions about black holes. But they're there, I know, I remember not remembering it, as clearly as if it was yesterday.
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