Michael stared at the white-bearded man standing before him.  He couldn't--

(No!  That's it!  No more chapters starting with that line!  I mean it!)

A pregnant pause ensued between Michael and the white-bearded man before him as the import of Driveling's last statement sank in.  Michael still couldn't believe it.

(Wait a minute... isn't that just another variation on the line that I said that I wouldn't use anymore to start new chapters?  Rrrgh...)

"Excuse me?" Michael said, his eyebrow still arched.  "That's the secret hidden inside the cryptex?  'Kansas deserves to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame'?"

"Yes," Driveling replied.  "In Cleveland, Ohio.  And, as I said, you're the one who can make it happen."

"You're kidding, right?" Michael replied dubiously.

"About what?  That Kansas deserves to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or that you can make it happen?" Driveling asked.

"Well, personally," Michael answered, "I do think that they deserve to be in the Hall of Fame, as do many Kansas fans.  What I question though--"

"Is that you're the one who can make it happen?" Driveling interrupted.

"Well, yes," Michael replied, "but not so much that as your implying that Kansas' being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is itself the Holy Grail."

"How can you know that this is the secret of the cryptex?" Bev asked incredulously.  "You said that you didn't know the key, that... that my husband himself is the key."

"That's correct, dear Beverly," Driveling replied, that same odd smile on his lips again.  "Your husband is indeed the key to opening the cryptex.  And once he does open it, we will finally have the proof that will make every true Kansas fan's dream come true."

"You sound very sure of my ability to figure out the key," Michael said to Driveling.  More sure than I am, he thought.

"Oh, you'll open it, Michael," Driveling said enigmatically.  "I guarantee it."

Something about Driveling's tone made Michael uncomfortable.  He again began to question his wisdom in allowing these two into his home.

"You know, Mr. Driveling," Bev finally spoke up, "I don't pretend to know much of anything about what you've been talking about here, but after all the secrecy and clues and codes and everything that's happened over the past couple of days, your saying that Kansas' getting into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is the Holy Grail seems... I don't know... anticlimactic."

"Yes," Michael said, "after all, not every Kansas fan is just dying to see them inducted, and even though there are some diehard fans who have been pushing for it for years, not even the members of the band themselves seem to care all that much about it.  In fact, drummer Phil Ehart said in a recent interview that while he appreciates the work of some fans to try to get Kansas into the Hall, it isn't really that big a deal to him.  What matters to him, and I think I can safely say about all the members of Kansas, are their families and their music."

"And besides that," Bev added, "what does Kansas' getting into the Hall of Fame have to do with all the codes and messages and... and the Holy Fivefold String that Michael told us about earlier?  'Divine-atonement-Kerry-Livgren-Monolith'?  What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything!" Driveling replied, smiling broadly.  "Think about it, Michael," he said, stepping over and placing his arm around Michael's shoulder.  Michael didn't feel all that comfortable with the gesture.  "Think about all that Kansas has meant to you over the years of your life.  From the time you were fourteen years old, Kansas was the musical and lyrical embodiment of your own search for a sense of fulfillment, of belonging, in this world."

"How do you know all this?" Michael asked, trying to wriggle out of Driveling's half-embrace.

"You yourself told me," Driveling replied, "as you've told everyone on the People of the South Wind mailing list over the years whenever you would post messages to the group about what Kansas has meant to you."

"Oh... yeah," Michael said, suddenly ruing the apparent permanence of Internet mailing list archives.

"The music of Kansas and Kerry Livgren had you thinking about religious matters without your even realizing that the music was about religion and, ultimately, the quest for God," Driveling continued.  "You yourself would say on the mailing list that when you were a teenager neither Sunday School nor Church spoke to your heart.  You found the trappings of religion to be both boring and irrelevant.  But the music of Kansas, and songs of Kerry Livgren, struck a... chord... with you, so to speak," Driveling chuckled.

"Well, you're right," Michael said, hating to admit that the stranger was right about that.  "My parents took me to Sunday School and Church throughout my childhood, but all along I felt like it was a waste of time.  It seemed to have nothing to do with me, with my life.  You remember, Honey," he said to his wife, "how I told you that when I got a job at the local radio station in 1980 when I was seventeen I especially enjoyed the fact that my Sunday morning shift required me to miss church."

"Yes, I remember," she replied.

"But what I didn't know at that time was that Kerry Livgren himself had just become a Christian and that his 1980 solo album Seeds of Change reflected and expressed his newfound faith, although in indirect terms," Michael continued.  "He had written songs about there being 'just one way,' that there are deceptive forces for evil in the world, that there's a void in our lives that has to be filled, that we can easily become enslaved to things that we think will make us happy, that there is One worthy of worship, that wealth and prosperity merely mask the emptiness within, and that there's a coming consummation of human history... and he wrote about all these things without once using the words 'God,' 'Jesus' or 'Bible' in the songs."

"Rather sneaky of him, wouldn't you say?" Driveling said, snickering.

"Yes, but in a good way, at least for me," Michael replied.  "I bought a copy of that album in late 1980, just after the release of Kansas' Audio-Visions album, on which Kerry had also written about his new faith, although again in oblique terms.  I spent the next nine months listening to his music from both albums, internalizing both the words and the music, without even realizing that it was the gospel message.  If I had realized what it was before I was ready to accept it, I might have rejected it."

"How could you possibly miss the gospel message in his music?" Bev asked.

"When you're as ignorant of the Bible and Christianity as I was at that time," he replied, "it's easy to miss the significance of anything that doesn't come right out and say, 'This is about God and Jesus.'  Even if it had said that outright, I still wouldn't have understood it.  In fact, I was so ignorant of Christianity then that I thought that the phrase 'born again' was invented by People Magazine."

"And then you went to college..." Driveling continued.

"Yes, in August of 1981," Michael said, "and there for the first time I chanced to meet some people who took their Christian faith seriously, who actually read the Bible and seemed to understand it.  In the course of speaking with them I started to realize that what they were telling me overtly about faith in Christ was the same thing that Kerry Livgren had written about covertly on his solo album and the last Kansas album.  For the first time in my life I started reading the Bible for myself, only to discover that, in listening to Kerry's music, I had been unconsciously 'prepping' myself for my own faith.  That was when I became a Christian myself, at least in terms of my actively embracing faith in God.  And I'll tell you," he added, "Sunday School and Church suddenly became very relevant to me."

"And this is precisely where the significance of the Holy Fivefold String, 'divine-atonement-Kerry-Livgren-Monolith,' comes in," Driveling said.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked.

"In a nutshell," Driveling answered, "Monolith was the last Kansas album recorded before Kerry Livgren became a Christian.  His faith, which meant so very much to you and others like you, became a two-edged sword that would eventually split the band apart, first with the 'yo-yo' effect of his and Steve Walsh's songs on Audio-Visions..."

"Wait a minute," Bev interrupted.  "'Yo-yo' effect?"

"Yes," Michael answered, "the dichotomy between Kerry's faith and Steve's worldview caused the songs on the album to ping-pong back and forth between Christian ideals and a more secular viewpoint.  Even before I became a Christian I could tell that Kerry and Steve were going in two very different directions musically and lyrically. Audio-Visions was a very disjointed album."

"Yes, and things only got worse with Vinyl Confessions in 1982," Driveling continued.  "Kerry's faith was the straw that finally broke Steve Walsh's back, so to speak, and Steve left the band rather than sing lyrics he didn't believe in.  The band brought in John Elefante as a replacement, and even though this album's music and Christian lyrics made for a more cohesive recording than its predecessor, Kansas was no longer the same great progressive band it had been."

"And then violinist Robby Steinhardt left before their next album, Drastic Measures, the following year," Michael added, nodding his head.  "With no violin and only one lead singer, and his being neither of the voices that the fans had grown to love over the years, Kansas was finished in most fans' hearts.  Then Kerry himself and bass player Dave Hope left to form a Christian band called A.D. the year after and that was it for Kansas.  The band reunited a few years later with a different lineup and have continued touring and recording in varying incarnations ever since, but things have never been the same."

"And all because of Kerry Livgren's Christian faith!" Driveling exclaimed.

"Now, hold on," Michael said, "there were other issues going on as well.  Steve Walsh had actually left the band twice over creative differences in the years before Kerry became a Christian.  Each time the band was able to talk him into staying on.  Kerry's faith may have been the last straw, but it wasn't the only thing."

"Yes, but it was the last thing!" Driveling pressed.  "If Kerry hadn't become a Christian, or if he had just been content to 'lay low' with his lyrics, Steve might not have left... Robby might not have left... the original Kansas might not have folded... they may very well have been able to reclaim the glory of years gone by and might now already be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where they belong!"  The man was practically shouting.

Michael was staring at Driveling again, his eyebrow arched yet again.

"Don't you see?" Driveling prompted.  "All this happened after the release of Monolith!  Kerry Livgren's Christian faith blew everything to pieces!  He must make a 'divine atonement' for the wrong he did to Kansas!  That's the meaning of the Holy Fivefold String!  'Divine-atonement-Kerry-Livgren-Monolith'!"

Michael continued staring at the man for a long moment.  "I think I preferred your... drivel... about church history," he finally said.  "I knew it was hogwash.  This, though..." his voice trailed off.

"Wait a minute," Bev said.  "If it's true what you're saying, that Kerry Livgren has to... atone... somehow for what happened with Kansas more than a quarter-century ago, then... what are you doing... here?  Why aren't you...?"

"Why aren't I knocking at Kerry Livgren's door in Berryton, Kansas?" Driveling completed her question.

"Yes!" she cried.  "Why are you here and not there?"  She really wished he were there and not here.

"Because Kerry Livgren isn't the key to the cryptex!" Driveling said, a twinge of frustration in his voice.  "Your husband is!"

Michael stood by himself, lost in thought.  Kerry Livgren's faith had indeed been the catalyst for his own faith so very long ago.  In a very real sense, he realized, who he was as a husband, as a father... as a human being... was inextricably intertwined with the music of Kansas and Kerry Livgren and its effect in his own Christian faith.

"I don't know just how it is that I'm the... key... to the cryptex," Michael finally said, "but I do know that if it weren't for the music of Kansas and Kerry Livgren my life now would be very different.  I might not have come to faith in Christ if not for Kerry's own faith, his testimony in his music.  As it was, my understanding of faith as a 'new' Christian was grounded very much so on Kerry's music, at least until I had become more familiar with the Bible and with what it meant to be a Christian, to live by faith."  He looked up at Driveling.  "His music really set the course of my entire life."

"Yes," Driveling said, "so very much so that, as you've posted to the People of the South Wind mailing list over the years, toward the end of your college career you decided to go to seminary, to find out if you were called to ordained ministry.  And in the course of your time at seminary you decided to pursue a year's internship as an associate pastor at Fondren Presbyterian Church in Jackson, Mississippi, where you met... and married... your lovely wife."

Michael looked toward Bev.  She looked back at him.

"In a very real sense," Driveling continued, "all the good that you have and know now with your wife and children, everything that indeed is your life, can be traced back to the effect that the music of Kansas and Kerry Livgren, especially his Christian music, has had upon you.  Take that away, and perhaps nothing of what you now have... ever happens.  Your family... your faith... everything that matters to you... everything that makes you you... never happens."

Michael closed his eyes.  He found himself feeling very humbled at the thought of how easily his life could have turned out very differently than it had if not for the music of Kansas.

"Everything you know, everything you love in your life," Driveling said, leaning in closely, "is due in no small part to what the members of Kansas went through as the result of Kerry Livgren's Christian faith.  The very thing that has brought so much good to you is the very same thing that brought so much calamity to them so very long ago.  And even though the band recovered enough to regroup and carry on in one form or another in the years since, all that might have been, all that could have been if not for Kerry's faith, is lost forever.  In a very real sense, Michael," Driveling continued, "Kansas paid the price for the good that you know and have in your life now."

Michael cleared his throat.  He had always felt that he had owed a debt of sorts to Kansas and Kerry Livgren for all they had given to him in their music.  Now that weight of debt seemed infinitely heavier as he considered what it had put the band through for them to give it to him.  "I guess I was always selfish when it came to their music," he finally said.  "Whenever they'd put out a new album, I would buy it and listen to it, concerned only with whether or not I enjoyed it, not with what the members of the band had given of themselves, or maybe even sacrificed, to create it.  You know, in that Phil Ehart interview I mentioned earlier, he said that while they were recording Vinyl Confessions his father was dying of congestive heart failure.  Phil would drive in to Los Angeles, record his drum parts, ask if he had done a good enough job, and then drive back to San Diego to be with his father.  Back and forth, day after day, just to lay down his drum tracks and then go to be with his dad while he was dying."

Michael sighed deeply as Bev came over and put her arm around his shoulder.  "My own father died of congestive heart failure ten years ago," he continued.  "I was able to be with him and my mother and sister on his final day, holding his hand as he slipped away.  There was no rush, no hurry.  But now I imagine Phil racing back and forth between the studio and the hospital.  Cell phones weren't in wide use back then, so he couldn't call while he was on the way to see how his dad was doing.  I imagine Phil worrying that the next time he arrived at the hospital it would be to the news that his father had died while Phil was laying down his tracks for the next Kansas album.  When the album finally came out, there was a note in the credits dedicating the album to the memory of Howard Ehart, Phil's dad.  But what was I concerned with?  The production quality and how 'Christian' the album sounded... with what I got out of it, with whether or not I liked it."

Michael looked back up at Driveling.  "Kansas has given me far more than I ever imagined, and at a far greater cost to them than I ever considered," he said to the older man.  "What return can I possibly make?"

Driveling smiled at him, his eyes twinkling.  "Ask not what Kansas can do for you," he said, "but what you can do for Kansas."

Michael smiled back.  "The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?"

"The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame," Driveling replied.  "In Cleveland."  They both laughed together.  Bev rolled her eyes, wondering just what her husband had gotten their family into now.