We finish the exposition and finally start on the adventure…

The Darkness seemed to seethe and writhe. Was this meant to comfort them?

Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then, slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. No fear. Only the stars and the clear darkness of space, quite different from the fearful darkness of the Thing.

“You see!” the Medium cried, smiling happily. “It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!”

But this event is clearly more bittersweet to Mrs Whatsit, so they ask exactly what it is that they saw.

“It was a star,” Mrs Whatsit said sadly. “A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh, yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.”

Mrs Which spoke again. Her voice sounded tired, and they knew that speaking was a tremendous effort for her. “[It was not so long ago for you, was it]?” she asked gently.

Mrs Whatsit shook her head.

So, evidently, the Mrs W’s are the souls of stars, existing in some sort of afterlife, much like the idea of the souls of the dead continuing to aid the living.

But after the Medium has shown them all those dark things, she’s inclined to show the children something nice, so she offers to show them a look at their parents on Earth (despite the misgivings of Mrs Which).

“Calvin’s mother first,” Meg whispered to the Medium.

The globe became hazy, cloudy, then shadows began to solidify, to clarify, and then they were looking into an untidy kitchen with a sink full of unwashed dishes. In front of the sink stood an unkempt woman with gray hair stringing about her face. Her mouth was open and Meg could see toothless gums and it seemed that she could almost hear her screaming at two small children who were standing by her. Then she grabbed a long wooden spoon from the sink and began whacking one of the children.

“Oh dear-” the Medium murmured, and the picture began to dissolve. “I didn’t really-“

“It’s all right,” Calvin said in a low voice. “I’d rather you knew.”

[…]

The shadows were swirling in the crystal again, and as they cleared Meg began to recognize her mother’s lab at home. Mrs. Murry was sitting perched on her high stool, writing away at a sheet of paper on a clipboard on her lap. She’s writing Father, Meg thought. The way she does. Every night.

The tears that she could never learn to control swam to her eyes as she watched. Mrs. Murry looked up from her letter, almost as though she were looking toward the children, and then her head drooped and she put it down on the paper, and sat there, huddled up, letting herself relax into an unhappiness that she never allowed her children to see.

And now the desire for tears left Meg. The hot, protective anger she had felt for Calvin when she looked into his home she now felt turned toward her mother.

“Let’s go!” she cried harshly. “Let’s do something!”

While Meg’s satisfied with this outcome, the Mrs W’s are justifiably concerned that she might act rashly in her anger, now that they’re finally off to rescue her father. Also, it’s a little uncomfortable when the Medium asks the children to kiss her, especially Calvin, who’d obviously rather not after she gets a little flirty with him. That’s also a relic of the 60’s.

“Stay angry, little Meg,” Mrs Whatsit whispered. “You will need all your anger now.”

Without warning Meg was swept into nothingness again. This time the nothingness was interrupted by a feeling of clammy coldness such as she had never felt before. The coldness deepened and swirled all about her and through her, and was filled with a new and strange kind of darkness that was a completely tangible thing, a thing that wanted to eat and digest her like some enormous malignant beast of prey.

Then the darkness was gone. Had it been the shadow of the Black Thing? Had they had to travel through it to get to her father?

Then the by-now-familiar tingling in her hands and feet and the push through hardness, and she was on her feet, breathless but unharmed, standing beside Calvin and Charles Wallace.

The planet her father is on is called Camazotz, named after the god of night in Mayan mythology. On the one hand, it’s good that she chose a god from a dead religion, but the fact that she chose a god from a non-European religion to represent an evil planet (as opposed to the “good” Uriel and Malak, which are derived from Judeo-Christian beliefs) is still a bit suss.

[…] “I can’t stay here with you, you know, love,” [Mrs Whatsit] said. “You three children will be on your own. We will be near you; we will be watching you. But you will not be able to see us or ask us for help, and we will not be able to come to you.”

“But is Father here?” Meg asked tremblingly.

“Yes.”

“But where? When will we see him?” She was poised for running, as though she were going to sprint off, immediately, to wherever her father was.

“That I cannot tell you. You will just have to wait until the propitious moment.”

Charles Wallace looked steadily at Mrs Whatsit. “Are you afraid for us?”

“A little.”

“But if you weren’t afraid to do what you did when you were a star, why should you be afraid for us now?”

“But I was afraid,” Mrs Whatsit said gently. She looked steadily at each of the three children in turn. “You will need help,” she told them, “but all I am allowed to give you is a little talisman. Calvin, your great gift is your ability to communicate, to communicate with all kinds of people. So, for you, I will strengthen this gift. Meg, I give you your faults.”

“My faults!” Meg cried.

“Your faults.”

“But I’m always trying to get rid of my faults!”

“Yes,” Mrs Whatsit said. “However, I think you’ll find they’ll come very handy on Camazotz. Charles Wallace, to you I can give only the resilience of your childhood.”

It’s telling that Mrs Whatsit isn’t actually giving them anything, just highlighting things they already possess that will be useful in the situation. Mrs Who takes a slightly different approach.

From somewhere Mrs Who’s glasses glimmered and they heard her voice. “Calvin,” she said, “a hint. For you, a hint. Listen well:

For that he was a spirit too delicate
To act their earthy and abhorr'd commands.
Refusing their grand hests, they did confine him
By help of their most potent ministers.
And in their unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprisoned, he didst painfully remain...

Shakespeare. The Tempest.

“Where are you, Mrs Who?” Charles Wallace asked. “Where is Mrs Which?”

“We cannot come to you now,” Mrs Who’s voice blew to them like the wind. “Allwissend bin ich nicht; doch viel ist mir bewisst. Goethe. I do not know everything; still many things I do not understand. That is for you, Charles. Remember that you do not know everything.” Then the voice was directed to Meg. “To you I leave my glasses, little blind-as-a-bat. But do not use them except as a last resort. Save them for the final moment of peril.” As she spoke there was another shimmer of spectacles, and then it was gone, and the voice faded out with it. The spectacles were in Meg’s hand. She put them carefully into the breast pocket of her blazer, and the knowledge that they were there somehow made her a little less afraid.

“[To all three of you I give my command],” Mrs Which said. “[Go down into the town. Go together. Do not let them separate you. Be strong].” There was a flicker and then it vanished. Meg shivered.

Mrs Whatsit must have seen the shiver, for she patted Meg on the shoulder. Then she turned to Calvin. “Take care of Meg.”

“I can take care of Meg,” Charles Wallace said rather sharply. “I always have.”

Mrs Whatsit looked at Charles Wallace, and the creaky voice seemed somehow both to soften and to deepen at the same time. “Charles Wallace, the danger here is greatest for you.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you are. Just exactly because of what you are you will be by far the most vulnerable. You must stay with Meg and Calvin. You must not go off on your own. Beware of pride and arrogance, Charles, for they may betray you.”

[…] “Now I think I know what you meant about being afraid.”

“Only a fool is not afraid,” Mrs Whatsit told him. “Now go.” And where she had been there was only sky and grasses and a small rock.

It’s pretty typical of for a kid to think they know everything, especially one as smart as Charles, so it’s only fair to hammer the point home a bit.

They find Camazotz to be much like Earth (specifically America), both in terms of climate and architecture, if a bit bland and dull. They first encounter something like a suburban development.

“Look!” Charles Wallace said suddenly. “They’re skipping and bouncing in rhythm! Everyone’s doing it at exactly the same moment.”

This was so. As the skipping rope hit the pavement, so did the ball. As the rope curved over the head of the jumping child, the child with the ball caught the ball. Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers.

Calvin is understandably freaked out, and suggests just going back, but of course it’s not his father whose life is at stake.

Then they encounter one little boy that seems to struggle with bouncing the ball, who takes some extra time to practice after the other children have all been called in, and he drops the ball when his mother comes out in a panic and carries him inside.

Charles catches the ball and suggests taking it to the boy who lost it to see what happens. While Meg is in more of a hurry to find her father and Calvin is just uneasy about the whole situation, as soon as Charles suggests going alone, Calvin reminds them of Mrs Which’s admonition to stay together, so they all go up and knock on the door.

“I think your little boy dropped his ball,” Charles Wallace said, holding it out.

The woman pushed the ball away. “Oh, no! The children in this section never drop balls! They’re all perfectly trained. We haven’t had an Aberration for three years.”

All up and down the block, heads nodded in agreement.

Charles Wallace moved closer to the woman and looked past her into the house. Behind her in the shadows he could see the little boy, who must have been about his own age.

“You can’t come in,” the woman said. “You haven’t shown me any papers. I don’t have to let you in if you haven’t any papers.”

Charles Wallace held the ball out beyond the woman so that the little boy could see it. Quick as a flash the boy leaped forward and grabbed the ball from Charles Wallace’s hand, then darted back into the shadows. The woman went very white, opened her mouth as though to say something, then slammed the door in their faces instead. All up and down the street doors slammed.

Charles draws a blank when he tries to get a read on these people, so they head into town, toward a place called CENTRAL Central Intelligence, where resides “IT”.

This is a very familiar setup for sci-fi dystopias of the era (and even later, like in The Giver), responding to the perceived threat of communism to the American way of life, and of course it’s only perfect and orderly on the surface.

“We have to find Father-” Meg started again.

“Meg-” Charles Wallace’s eyes were wide and frightened. “I’m not sure I’ll even know father. It’s been so long, and I was only a baby-“

Meg’s reassurance came quickly. “You’ll know him! Of course you’ll know him! The way you’d know me even without looking because I’m always there for you, you can always reach in-“

This is a very understandable reaction for Charles! He knows Meg, but he barely even remembers his father; he’s practically a stranger to him. But it’s also natural for Meg to want to gloss over that complication.

Calvin reached out and caught both Charles and Meg by the arm. “You remember when we met, you asked me why I was there? And I told you it was because I had a compulsion, a feeling I just had to come to that particular place at that particular moment?”

“Yes, sure.”

“I’ve got another feeling. Not the same kind, a different one, a feeling that if we go into that building [CENTRAL Central Intelligence], we’re going into terrible danger.”

Until next time…