Determined in his digging, ignoring all else, he was annoyed when his shovel hit with a clink something that was not ground. He bent downand brushed dirt away from a one foot square silver box. He dug the box out by hand, as he bent down and loosened it from the dirt that had held it there. He released the little silver clasp on the lid and opened the box. He took the box, now opened to show it's contents, over near the green webbed lawn chair. He sat on the chair resting the box on his lap.

"What is this?", he thought, as he lifted out a perfectly smooth round crystal-like clear ball from the silver box. It was six inches in diameter, impecably smooth, and not too heavy. The ball emitted a dim orange-yellow pulsing light from its center. He didn't hear an audible answer to his question but assimilated these words within his brain..."The Sphere of Knowledge is what it is."

"Oh really! Well then, answer this; How did Einstein come up with the 'Theory of Relativity'?", he smugly blurted out in his thoughts, looking at the ball. An image formed in Harold's mind...He was moving through the darkness of space toward the Earth at the speed of light; beside him, a particle of light moving in the same direction, parallel to his path, going neither faster nor slower than himself. He looked over at the particle. It seemed motionless. Another image formed...He was standing on Earth and looking up at the same particle of light and it seemed to be moving toward him at the speed of light. Images faded.

These words flowed into Harold's mind..."The same particle of light seemed to be still from one point and moving at a phenomenal rate from another point. Einstein thought in images, not words, since language somewhat limits the creative thinking process, then he formed those images into words and mathematical equations to explain clearly what he imagined. Directional movement and speed of an object is relative to the directional movement and speed of an observer."

Harold got up in awe, went into the house taking the Sphere of Knowledge with him. He asked probing questions all through the night, absorbing informing answers. He was obsessed with both the object and subjects at hand. Night passed. Shades of gray turned to colors in the yard besidethe forgotten shovel as dawn emerged. Harold, now tired, planned tosleep Sunday away and prepared for bed.