It’s taken more time to get everything back to normal than anyone had anticipated. In the rush to get me out of harm’s way, my lab partners have managed to keep me alive, but just barely.
The lab at JPL did not enjoy an official clean-room status. Shopping for the various parts needed to maintain the very delicate heart-lung machine and the feeding regimen that only someone of my kind would require could cause a great deal of suspicion. Dr. Fielding knew that all of his purchase orders would be scrutinized by the scientific bureaucracy and so he had to be extremely careful and it was a long time before I felt that everything was back to normal. But we finally got there and I’m very glad because it started to get pretty boring around here for a while.
So, it’s been several weeks now that I’ve been living in this state of operating at half-dead and half-alive. My brain is still completely operational and I believe has even improved over the tired old muscle that had to keep track of heart rhythm, breathing, all the organs, digestion, all of the gut bacteria, not to mention how to counteract all of the foreign invasions from germs of all description.
None of that bothers me or concerns me in the least any longer. Pathogens cannot enter my tank. I have no more gut so there is no more gut bacteria to keep corralled down below.
And of course, there’s no sex, at least no physical sex, the one thing that I do miss. I’m forced to keep thinking about this very unfortunate situation of mine every time Lucy comes by to chat or perform any of the usual tests of my mental alacrity that she’s devised. At some point in time, I’m going to approach her about a very novel idea that’s come to me and see how she reacts. I know she has very deep feelings for me and I find that this is what keeps me going more than anything else.
I’m pretty sure that President For Life Romaine has given up looking for me. I think that mainly because the team has only rarely mentioned his name and when they do, they seem to know something they are reluctant to tell me. Plus, every time I search the net for information about his activities, it reeks of evidence that he’s almost totally gone, devoured by the unrelenting effects of Alzheimer’s.
I’d be sad if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been one of the worst leaders in world history and could have easily brought us to the end of everything if it weren’t for his disease that seems to have slowed him almost to a full stop.
But today, everything is about to change dramatically once again. When Dr. Fielding, Lucy, Tony Sofrisco and the others arrive by my side in their official capacities as my experimenters, they start to ask me questions they have never even hinted at before.
At first, I’m totally mystified, but gradually, over the next few hours, it will start to clarify rapidly. I had never really explained to my group the contact I had at High Gamma with the Excelonians and now I’m thinking that it’s time.
“Kevin, in the move over here, it seemed to us that you were able to do some things that we never thought possible. It’s like you were able to actually control some minds. Is that how you would characterize those events?” Fielding asks without warning.
“Yes, Bennett, I would say that’s what happened,” I reply using the lab speakers, happily anticipating this could be the appetizer before a truly memorable meal from a master chef.
“How did you do that, can I ask?” Dr. Fielding asks with pen in hand, ready to record every word of my response even though there were a dozen machines in the lab that would do a much better job.
“Do you remember when you recorded my highest brain waves at 150 Hz?” I began.
“Yes, of course, I remember it. Does that have something to do with these events?” Dr. Fielding asks, not allowing me to drift off course.
“Yes, Dr. Fielding. When I was at this highest Gamma experience, I encountered an alien culture. They are known as the Excelonians because, quite obviously, they inhabit a planet known as Excelon. They are about a million years ahead of us in Evolution. They’ve given up their physical bodies long ago and they have mastered space travel to such a degree that they can be here among us in a matter of seconds. Would you like me to call for them to make a visit?” I blurt out all at once.
I feel relieved of a great burden.
Lucy looks at Dr. Fielding and shakes her head to tell him that she had no idea about any of this. Neither do any of the others. They all appear as shocked as I am relieved.
Dr. Fielding is dumbfounded, of course, and appears to be seriously considering my offer.
I’m not sure I can even do it. But, it would be fun to try.
“That’s a good question, Kevin. I’d like to have a few minutes, no, make that a few days, to consider that. Would that be all right with you?” Dr. Fielding replies finally.
“Why would you need even a few minutes, Bennett? I don’t understand. This could be the event of the century, even for all time. Why are you hesitating even for a minute?” Lucy interjects, passionately.
“It could be that, yes, Lucy, but it could also be the opposite. How much do we know about any alien civilization? What would be their objective in coming here?” Fielding tosses back at her.
Even I have to wonder about other motives the Excelonians might have. I don’t wonder for long. I have not only talked to them, but felt their brain waves.
“OK, so let’s ask, Kevin. How much do you know about this alien civilization?” Lucy says turning towards my tank.
“I know enough. I know that they would never harm us in any way and in fact only want to help us,” I tell her, confidently.
“And you can guarantee that they will do no harm?” Fielding asks.
“Now you know that any guarantee that I make would be worthless. But, I believe you can trust me,” I reply.
“It’s not a matter of trust, Kevin. You know that. It’s simply a matter of being prudent, taking some time to consider all the ramifications. That’s all,” Fielding suggests.
“Playing it safe,” Lucy chides.
“Yes, you can call it that too,” Fielding replies.
“I can appreciate your need for caution, Dr. Fielding, but I’m afraid it’s too late for all of that now,” I announce.
“What are you talking about?” Dr. Fielding asks, nervously.
“They’re already here. While we were considering it, they took it as an invitation and so they’re here mainly to answer your questions and address your concerns,” I tell them.
Lucy and the others all cast about the lab trying to discern any presence of aliens.
“I don’t see anyone, Kevin. Why do you say they’re here?” Lucy asks.
“Go into Gamma,” I suggest.
“What? We’re not capable . . .” Lucy begins to suggest that I’m the only one in the room who can reach these frequencies. I cut her off.
“But you can, my love. Just listen to the music in the room right now and then raise it a couple octaves,” I tell them, having just learned this trick from the Excelonians as I speak of it.
“The music?” she asks. Her words jump from her vocal chords, trail off into the distance, and then a vibration in the room makes them resonate at a gradually higher and higher frequency, but only loud enough for her inner ear to perceive.
The others seem to be enjoying the same sensations. I believe they are all suddenly at the Gamma state of mind.
My own brain waves also jump into Gamma at the same time. We’re now humming the same tune in our minds and we’re surfing the same wave energies. The minds of the Excelonians are exposed in the fine mists of Space and Time and from the interaction of wind and wave energy swirling all around us, gently yet decisively.
Hara-Camarra, the one I think of as my mentor joins the debate suddenly.
“From the Om-Ong” He says.
“Let us sing the Om-Song of Truth,” he mutters, mostly to himself, but we all pick up on it.
‘The mind is quite a place,
limited in time and space,
sitting quietly behind your face,
it’s a kinder place,
for the Human Race,
Space and Time are one,
And when we’re done,
We return to it,
It returns to us,
All the light and dust,
scrapes away the rust,
“Do you have your questions answered now, Dr. Fielding?” The question comes from Hara-Camarra. My dear friend from the Andromeda galaxy is here and he is in the heads of every one of us here in the Think Tank, not just me. As the vibrations of the Om-Song play amongst us, I can feel them all.
The sensations we are all experiencing now about community, peace and serenity, Cosmic Consciousness cannot be expressed in words. One cannot know the Om-Ong, until one has experienced it reverberating into every cell of one’s body.
It is simply one of the most truly satisfying moments of my life, or at least of my extended life. Some of you may be aware of similar experiences in your own lives, and indeed some of you are having the same experience at this very moment as you read this account. I can only rely on those of you who can relate these experiences in some personal way to what happened here in the lab on this day.
We will never be the same. It’s the best proof to all of us that we are not alone - definitely not alone.
I suddenly detect a tiny pixel of energy very far off in the distance. As it comes closer, it appears to be a kind of movie in 5-D. I actually detect many more than five dimensions, but most are very obscure, very difficult to code, yet are known.
The images explode onto the senses. The thing is shot in ten thousand, no, more like a million frames per second and from every conceivable angle, putting one’s ego right smack in the action like nothing I’ve ever experienced before even in real life like the one you, the readers, know now.
As it becomes larger, the movie purports to be a story of some kind. It could be the story of a civilization. In the opening scene now before us all, there are wild, angry creatures in leather armor wielding heavy swords, ramming their way past heavy wooden barricades and scaling massive brick walls, then running all over the place helter-skelter, slaughtering, men, women, children, animals that have the very bad luck of living in this place on this day.
The slaughter goes on for hours if not days. When it’s finally over, the ‘victors’ lay down and rest, but not for long. They barely have time to catch their breath when they too are put to the sword by a larger more powerful group of men in leather armor. Soon, all of the original swordsmen lay in the pile of death that they themselves had created hours before.
Time goes on. There is a period of rebirth and rejuvenation. The city is rebuilt upon the ruins of mass destruction. Women become mothers. Babies become boys and girls, then grow to men and women. The young men begin playing with and then perfecting the ‘art’ of the sword. Eventually other men with swords come to the city gates and the carnage begins all over again with the new generation of attackers and new screams of hate, distrust and uncontrollable anger echo from the ramparts.
The chaos is everywhere. The new city is sacked and burned to the ground, every living thing put to a horrible death. Mothers watch as their babies are cut to pieces. Fathers are forced to watch as their wives are raped and then dismembered.
When finished with this city, the swarming army constantly slashing and burning moves on to the next city and then the next one and then the next, defeating and destroying them one by one, until the entire countryside to the horizon is nothing more than grotesque smoldering debris.
The 5-D or X-D movie continues for quite some time until it reaches more modern times when the same events take place, but with the murderers wearing uniforms instead of basic leather clothing. They clash again and again in city after city and then finally a huge explosion bursts high up into the sky over the nearest of them and we can see, feel, smell and taste the incineration of millions of people inside the space of one second of time.
The huge dark mushroom clouds burst open like Spring flowers over the entire planet until finally, over millennia, the particles of dust give forth to life once again. It will take centuries, and even centuries of centuries, for these humble stalks to become numerous enough to harbor life of any import again.
The movie fades into a blackness that is thick and luxurious, filled with possibilities.
Finally, we hear Hara-Camarra from inside one of the extremely remote dimensions. He sounds far off in the distance and yet as close as inside our own heads.
“What you have witnessed is a condensed version of our species history on Excelon. This all took place over a million years ago, but it is just the tip of the iceberg as it was a kind of global insanity that continued for dozens of centuries until our planet was wiped clean of the kind of suicidal life form that had evolved here.’
It remained pristine and peaceful for another epoch of time, and finally when our kind evolved on this place we excavated the ruins of our ancient cities and found all of the evidence that we’ve shown you here today and it moved us all to one of the greatest moments in our long history.’
Suddenly, as if coming from all of our brains at exactly the same time and in the words of the ancient ones, we vowed it must never happen again. Since every living creature had created this thought in unison, it stuck with us as if it was one thought shared by all, each individual’s own thought and this even carried through the generations because it was part of our DNA.” he instructs.
‘It was actually given to us all by our greatest leader, Amon-Chi, who after a life-long study of what you call Particle Physics, showed us the way out of the chaos and madness of our politics and invented the state of mind we call ‘Om-Ong’.
It was quickly adopted by nearly all of us and practiced until it became so pervasive and so powerful that we were able to leave our corporeal selves and move into the ethereal plane where we have lived ever since,” Hara-Camarra continues.
There’s a long pause, a complete and total silence as we are all face to face with a stark reality not unlike our own, except without the great intervention of Amon-Chi. I want to say something to the group, but I keep thinking that the movie speaks for itself.
It’s like a door opening and closing behind you. I can hear Lucy enter a dimension that is the open channel for audience participation.
“So, you came here through Kevin’s brain?” she asks, always the curious student.
“No, Kevin LaValle came to us, through the Cosmic Brain, and you all have been included by default, since you are so well aware of Kevin’s brain, have now joined us,” Hara-Camarra replies affably.
“Explain, please,” Dr. Fielding interjects.
“Yes, of course. Isn’t it apparent to you now that the space and time that you call the ‘universe’ is actually the brain of a Cosmic Soul? You have all the evidence now. Haven’t you been able to come to the right conclusions yet?” Camarra transmits his reply.
“I’m not so sure that has been established just yet,” Dr. Fielding replies, and thinks again.
“All right, for the sake of argument, and since you have said it, and you must know what you’re talking about, let’s assume it’s true. How does that clarify what you just told Lucy, that you came in through Kevin’s brain?” he continues, returning to his train of thought.
“Ahh yes. You need further clarification on that subject. I see,” Camarra begins, then takes a kind of breather, a moment to focus on how to answer in the most effective way.
“Well, the brain waves inside your heads don’t just stop and collect in puddles trapped by the bony obstructions of your skull, do they? Like rivers and streams, they flow on into the larger oceans of waves that surround us and feed us all, do they not?” he continues, rhetorically.
“I’ll give you that,” Fielding agrees.
“You have the machines that record your intracranial wave events. You have the telescopes and other detectors that record the extra-cranial wave events. Why can’t you simply put both activities together and study them as one?” Camarra puts forth.
“And if we did that, we would achieve the same dead-end Evolution as you did, no?” Lucy asks, after a short time.
“I don’t have an answer for you because it’s not a simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, but the probability is there,” Camarra returns.
Then, a question bursts forth in my mind that will not be contained.
“We are all currently in Gamma wave production mostly in our own brains. Does the Cosmic One operate under the same principle of waves having varying lengths, amplitude, frequency, speed of transmission, etc. that might even express its emotions?” I ask.
“Good Kevin. You have just uncovered the first principle of what Amon-Chi found on Excelon many years ago. It’s all a kind of music, and it can all be written down and sung just like the Om-Song I have given you from the Om-Ong. If you are clever enough to uncover the others or even make some of your own, you may be only the second species in the Cosmic One who will become so informed,” Camarra says.
“So, there are preferred songs, or official songs of the Om-Ong?” Tony Frocisco interjects.
“Yes, of course. You have already found the song of the ‘God Particle’ even though you didn’t see it as a song, and you have not sung it yet as a community. But you now know the specific frequency that makes all of the other parts of the universe vibrate in harmony to the master beat, the ‘DJ’ of the universe, so to speak. So, now for your kind, it is only a matter of days when you will find how all the music fits together in the greatest symphony that is known,” Hara-Camarra explains.
A thought floats up to the surface of my brain, the central node of our ongoing experience here.
“The God Particle was found by smashing protons together at the Large Hadron Collider. So, do we use the same kind of equipment to find the rest of Nature secrets?” I ask.
“No, smashing things together is far too violent. It’s a shame you always try to smash things together before you try to piece them all together, a much gentler approach to Science, don’t you agree?” he asks us.
The answer appears obvious.
I can feel all of the brains in the room working in high gear. Instead of speeding these little things up to the speed of light and then crashing them into each other from opposite directions, maybe we could build a chamber that would slow them down to absolute zero, no motion of any kind and then examine them in this state, as particles of solid energy, instead of just looking at the debris from the crash site, the way motorists gawk at crashed vehicles along the road. He’s got us thinking, inventing, creating like mad.
I can feel the others straining to find the right follow-up questions, but as soon as we formulate it, there will be more and better questions.
“I can’t give you too many clues. That would ruin the experiment. I feel that you understand now that you will have to create more constructive mechanisms to replace the destructive mechanisms of your ‘Atom Smashers’ and all other parts of your society,” Hara-Camarra recommends.
“That won’t be easy,” I think largely to myself. But I know it has been broadcast to the others.
“No, it won’t be easy, true, but it’s the simplest thing you will ever do as well,” Hara-Camarra says quietly.
Everything falls away like a chair has been pulled out from under us. We’re back to reality in the lab, so suddenly that it actually ‘smarts’ a little to have our brains flushed of all the great Gamma wave sensations.
“They’re gone,” Lucy expresses what we all already know.
“Did you all view that movie?” Sofrisco asks.
“I think we did. And this was your mentor on Excelon, Kevin?” Lucy asks.
“Yes, he’s quite something, isn’t he?” I reply.
“Quite,” she replies.
“Yeah, something,” Dr. Fielding adds, solemnly.
Rapidly louder and louder, we begin to hear the thunder of dozens of pairs of boots pounding along outside in the halls. Then, the crash of the double-doors to the lab are battered open.
“They found us,” Lucy yells, moving to a position that obstructs their view of my tank.
“Is this it?” One of the storm troopers, in a full combat uniform demands, pointing at my tank.
His dark outlines make him loom over us like a shadow from an eclipse of the sun.
He shoves Lucy out of the way amidst her loud protests.
“That’s it,” Another even more ominous figure in the SWAT team confirms.
“Grab it,” He orders.
Lucy and the rest of my friends are horrified, but are being shoved off to the sides of the room and held hard by their necks against the walls.
“You can’t disconnect the tank. He’ll die,” Lucy shouts at the leader through her choke hold.
“Doesn’t matter a whole Hell of a lot to us, Ma’am,” the Captain states, brusquely. And then.
“Disconnect all of those tubes down below but make sure you get all of this equipment out of here and laid out in the way that it’s all connected,” he shouts.
The figure who is guarding Lucy, keeps her at bay with one arm and using the right arm probes the bottom of my tank for the feeding tubes.
I’m still slow in coming out of my Gamma state which would have been a huge problem except for the presence of the Excelonians.
Hara-Camarra jolts my brain into a kind of re-start. I wake up to the dangers suddenly all around us.
“What is their greatest fear?” Hara-Camarra’s whispers gently swirl around in my mind.
“They fear death,” I reply while quickly and gently probing the minds of the invaders in the room.
“So, show them eternal life as we know it,” Hara-Camarra suggests.
At first, I have no idea what he means. Then, I realize that if I don’t do something, relinquishing my efforts and the efforts of all my friends to evil, it could be enough to end my life, maybe all life on the planet.
“Don’t do that,” I suggest to the one pulling on my tubes.
“You shall surely regret it if you do,” I tell him and place into his mind the images of himself on his deathbed, images that are a true encapsulation of his future timeline in this dimension. Together, we can see the cancer that is already exploding out of control in his lungs. It will kill him within six days.
I let him focus on the little movie of his last moments.
Suddenly, he stands up straight, white as a sheet, clearly disobeying his superior’s orders.
“I gave you an order Vandenberg!” the larger man shouts from behind.
Neither man moves a muscle. I turn my attention to the mind of the one who seems to be in charge and I construct a movie of the death of his mother, which he never witnessed because he was off on a mission which proved later to be futile. Missing her last few days is the greatest regret of his life and something that he beats himself up about over and over.
In my little instant movie of her final moments at Hospice, I have her asking the nurses where her son is and the nurses just shake their heads.
At ten million frames per second, this part of his life is more real and faithful to the facts than any other moment in his life. There is no escape.
The Captain falls to the floor, holding his head in his hands and sobbing like a little boy who has lost his puppy.
Then, in a cascading series of little movies, I paint over the minds of all the other SWAT members in similar fashion. In this brain state, I can review every image in their memories, hear every word spoken to them or by them in the years leading up to this moment. I use the information to create a brief movie of the worst moments of their lives which puts them all into total mental panic and physical exhaustion.
The entire team collapses on the ground in unison. They look and sound just like a nursery filled with new-born babies swathed in the latest Camouflage Couturier.
“You’ve got to give him credit. The President For Life just keeps on trying,” I suggest to the other minds, my friends in the room.
For a second or two, my friends are stunned, and then quickly regain their composure and are soon asking me what to do next amidst all of the cater-walling from the soldiers.
I have to think for a moment and I make an overture to Hara-Camarra, still hovering close by, to learn if he has any ideas. ‘We certainly don’t have time to baby-sit them all’, I think to myself mainly, but also aware that he will catch my drift.
“Why don’t you just order them back to their units? Give them just enough mental energy to find their way home,” Hara-Camarra suggests calmly.
The best of all the alternative solutions, I do just what He suggests. I go back into their minds and show them a movie of what their life could be like if they strove to educate others in their units about how to resist the authority of their corrupt leaders.
“That should keep them out of trouble,” I text to the group.
“Out of trouble? You sure about that?” Dr. Fielding asks, thinking that I’m just letting them go without any consequences, but I know that these consequences will be the greatest of their lives.
“Oh, yes, great trouble, the greatest challenge they’ve ever faced. I can tell you that,” I reply.
My friends seem to know what I’m doing, so they quickly send me brain waves that demonstrate
their great harmony.
They band closer together and hug each other as we all watch the SWAT team members slowly come to their feet, still sobbing, apologizing profusely and then quietly march themselves out the door, into the sunlight and eventually gather obediently and efficiently into their trucks to slowly drive away.
Sofrisco points out that they’ve all left their weapons behind on the floor.
Dr. Fielding suggests that they won’t need them any more, and that we should therefore destroy them.
And then, “We’re going to have to move you again because they now know where you are and they’re not going to give up until they obtain this technology.”
“Not necessary, Lucy,” I console her.
“I think it’s time that I had a little talk with the President For Life, don’t you?” I ask.
Smiles and happy sounds are produced all around.
Hara-Camarra’s words are like wind chimes to give just the right ambiance to the brain waves swirling all around.
“I think you have all caught on to the Om-Ong. I’ll see you in the Clouds. Do not delay, my friends, you only have thirty days left before what you saw in our history starts to play out on your planet as well. The madness is coming,” he warns gently.
My mentor and friends depart the planet, simply rewinding the movie that got them here.
“Wait, what? Thirty days? Are you kidding me right now?”
This is shocking news, to say the least. I shout as loud as I can without the shouting muscles. The strain gives me a slight head-ache.
It’s too late. They’re gone and I can’t draw them back.
Suddenly, we’re right back down to the most familiar flow of reality.
Lucy and Fielding notice my brain waves fluctuating wildly.
“Thirty days? What can we do in thirty days to reverse five million years of Evolution?” Lucy directs the question at Fielding.
“The reference to the Cloud,” Fielding observes. “What did he mean by that, Kevin?”
“Questions, questions. Calm down, both of you,” I tell them, trying to construct something encouraging for them.
I’ve been connected to The Cloud ever since they placed me in the Tank. It’s been very helpful in finding a new place in the world. But, Hara seemed to suggest just now that there was much more to it. He used the plural, ‘Clouds’, not just one Cloud. Perhaps he meant the actual clouds in the sky?
Then, I begin to adjust my thinking towards the wave energies of the Cloud, not just the information it carries, but how the information is transported all around and through the planet. Surely, they are powerful enough now to be seen from several light years away - if you knew how to construct the
right type of detectors.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure them, after a time.
“I think I know what to do. I’ll need you guys to help. I want you two to set up a meeting with the
President For Life. Make the appearance that we want to strike a deal, OK? Can you do that?” I ask them.
“Yes, of course, We’ll do it. You want us to start now?” Lucy asks.
“Yes, you just heard how fast that time is closing in on us. We have to get going as fast as possible.
So, yes, make the calls. Do whatever you have to do. You won’t be lying to him, because you have it from me that I want to make a deal. Tell him, you just don’t know what kind of a deal, but that it will benefit him and his quest for immortality. Remember, this is what he wants most desperately. He’ll drop all precautionary measures to get it - and so we can use this against him, Ok?” I instruct.
“Ok,” they both agree. They gather up all of the rest of the crew in a huddle and rush off down the hallway discussing their strategy.
I realize suddenly that I have some speed-learning to do.
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