Long Delayed Laughter

There was a sucking pop as the air flowed into the vacuum of the box.

She had finally done it.

She reflected on the 30 years she and her husband and then son had shared in search of this. The years and years of study, painstakingly translating ancient texts, consulting star charts, corporate funding, 3 years of space travel, the late nights spent in her simulators scouring all of the archived surface scans she could find from when everyone had all left Earth. Six months in orbit carefully preparing to open the box, and it was finally done.

“I’ve got it!” She called out as the lid slowly creaked open.

Her son unstrapped himself from the pilot seat where he had been making orbit adjustments, and floated over to the workbench she called home.

“No way… Oh man, if only dad were here to see this.”

She couldn’t believe this was actually it. It felt so surreal. Her focus for all these years, what always seemed like the most important thing in her life, finally about to be resolved.

A single piece of paper.

The yellowed page, laminated and stiff.

The slightly faded ink, in which was written just a single line…

῾΅ηυ διδ τηε ψηιψκεν ψροσσ τηε ροαδ῞ Το γετ το τηε οτηερ σιδε.῾

How could the meaning of life be expressed so simply? They’d theorized for hours and hours about what could be written there. They’d assumed probably a few hundred page book at least… Or maybe a some sort of multi-media presentation, or perhaps even a neuro-link-download or something. But, just one sentence? How?

The legend said that it would take a whole family to find and understand it. Many had tried on their own, and all had failed. It took the closeness and connection of a family, and the perseverance of day in and day out work. Exploring the puzzles, the challenges, that had all been set around it. Through thick and thin, sickness and health, day in day out, searching together.

She got to work translating. Hands shaking with anticipation. In just a matter of minutes she’d know exactly what it said! She’d expected months of work left at this point minimum. Was it just another clue?

Speechless and flummoxed, she set down the pencil. She felt betrayed. This was impossible. Why? What did it mean? It was… a joke. Sarcasm. “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side.”

She’d given years to this. Her whole life. She’d spent all that time. Her and her family. Together. They… They’d done it together. All of it. As close and as happy as anyone could ever hope to be doing anything.

And then she laughed. And she cried. And she understood.