Excerpt for An Intellection on the Post Mechanics of Death by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.













An


Intellection on the Post Mechanics of


Death


by


Gordon McWhorter























Only Love escapes Earth. Everything else sticks around to haunt this place...






...only Love can travel the Stars!













Death is a Sci-Fi novel










Every book before now was a prelude...

...just a bunch of euphemisms.



Dedicated to my wife, Jorden, for her continued belief in my work.

























Epilogue


Existence is so important to the soul. The individual needs to feel they are real. Ever feel like the life you’re living is with ghosts and we all pretend to be alive with you because we love you and don’t want to tell you that you're dead? I love you...


















...and you’re dead.


























Chapter 1




Death is the Unrealization of All Things.


Death is Unreality. The opposite of reality. I surmise to you, my dear reader, for Death is UNREAL.


This is the book everyone reads, but no one alive can tell the story. Immutable, irrevocable, certain tried and trued. Everybody dies. So will you, and so will I when we meet on the other side. The Other Side, like particles of antimatter colliding with matter; Life and Death annihilate one another.


How shocked I was to die. Everything I had ever thought of or knew about was absolutely flawed. Wrong on such a scale that it cannot be imagined, nor seen, nor understood. Religion, Science, Philosophy: None of these could have prepared me for this one thing. That ONE thing escapes us, yet we all will experience it. Such an intimate, inescapable event would have to be familiar to all of us, yet that is the very thing that eludes us, shocks us, twists and transforms our ever loving souls into death’s non reality. Let me explain, but let me start here with our Sun:

Our Sun is a gigantic, electromagnetic, plasma generator. A ball of light so dense that it acts like a metal but moves like lightning. Whirl pooling poles of negative and positive charges infinitely set with seasons of flip and rotation. Summer and Winter, Autumn and Spring, but these seasons we see from our little planet is only the Sun’s thick atmosphere bubbling on the surface. Plasma Jet Streams, Black Hole Sunspots, Massive Solar Storms, Solar Quakes, Tsunamis, and Tornadoes five times the breadth of Earth spinning at unimaginable speeds. We only get to see the Sun's Surface through Coronal Holes, which is the break in the weather, so to speak, a clear day on the Surface of the Sun letting loose those titanic waves of highly charged particles to rampage unchecked through our solar system called Solar Winds.

When I was in school they taught us that the Sun was powered from within by Atomic Fusion, yet that would clearly signify the Sun would be even hotter the deeper to the center you go, but that is not the case. The Sun’s Atmosphere is a Million times hotter. Co-rotating Regions of Negative and Positive influences emanating from our Sun, just discovered in the last century, point to direct magnetic connections with every orbiting body in the Sun's solar system. A specific place on the Sun that is calculable and can be located for each planet's direct magnetic umbilical cord. It is not that far, then, to leap to the conclusion that the sun's ignited fuels are directly related to it’s orbiting family, the planets cause immense tidal friction on the surface of the Sun, forcing the equator of the Sun to move faster than the Sun’s poles, igniting the atmosphere, the Corona, where we get all our light and heat from. The Sun, or any star for that matter, is dependent on it’s orbiting family for ignition.


The Sun, and stars, are also the generators of water, all water, in fact, comes from the Stars, the plasma clouds and solar wind streams of Stars slam into and compress planetary magnetic fields to then hit the now exposed ionosphere where those particles, react and interact with atmosphere to create H20...


Rain from Heaven.


The Sun is alive.


The Sun will die.


It is truth that Life and Death are the seeds of the One Thing. The One Thing being God. The One Thing that has Infinite Names, who is Infinite, who is both alive and not alive. Who is real, but unreal at all times, who watches from within while watching from without, seeing, from end to end, itself, the True Mirror, the only ONE thing that is not a reflection.


Shocked by my own death I fall through the operating room floor. What is happening!? I look down at my hands and they are not there. There is no chest to match my hyperventilating, no intake of air or pounding of a mad, beating heart. I scream, and as I scream I fall into the Earth, darkness and dirt that seems to last forever as I just keep on screaming. The horror, the sheer terror I feel, breaks me and I die a second time.


Below me, or above, I can no longer tell, is a warm, soft glow. From horizon to horizon it looks like sunset in three hundred and sixty degrees. The blackness above, or below me, turns to dawn and a bright light breaks at the center of this dawn, a second sun, infinite and blue.


If I knew the right words I would have tried to speak them, but in silent awe I ride softly, ever so softly, down to the light at the end of the now darkening tunnel. The light is from the core of the Earth, and it shines ever brighter until, indeed, it is the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Death has come to me, my friends. There is no turning back, there is nowhere to run. The River Hades calls my name, rushing sounds of water in the background of my non existent mind, like wind on chimes, and warm sunshine on the porch.


A river of memories flows there; family, friends, loved ones, stranger moments of life's major events playing out in front of me like a movie. It takes me years to fall to the center of the Earth. Finally, like a newborn babe exiting the womb, I touch down on the surface of a pure, clear, transparent globe of diamonds and blue fire.


I touch down with feet on fire with brass and molten gold veins snaking around muscles of elastic carbon bonded sinew, my new flesh and bone. I look at my hands and they are burning like mirrors, reflecting the lightning-esque sunset all around me, but not my face. I do not have a reflection. Ignoring the discrepancies of death I hold my hands up high to the underbelly sky of Hades and stretch for the first time in forever.


AHHH!” My voice fills the void with well being and release. I feel no pain, no aching in my back which I had dealt with in life, or weakness, lethargy, depression...

Thank God!” I shout out to the emptiness. “I exist!” Inside me I feel the beating of a heart that is pumping anything and everything else but blood through these golden veins.


I stride out into the void on powerful legs, a ribbon of see through black sets the path as tongues of lightning shoot up from the Earth core to touch my feet with every step. I am walking on a gigantic plasma ball!


This plasma ball, the source of the Earth's protective Magnetic Shields, Van Allen Belts, or that which directs the flow of particles from the Sun down into the Earth’s core, convexes through me in splendid bending auroral columns. They yield to me, growing shapes and structures on the ice smooth surface as I think of them. First, just basic geometric shapes, until I multiply them over, and over, smaller, iterate, Fibonacci, Pi and Phi. They willingly spiral out from me to turn into snow peaked mountains covered in coniferous trees and a plethora of fauna that fractalized itself down to an ice cold, mirrored lake. Massive, white, granite stones stick up out of the lake like giants teeth. By the lake, on the shores opposite the mountains, is a humble little cabin.


Home!” And it is made so.


I run down the last stretch of plasma ball before the fractals turn it green with lush prairie grasses, wildflowers of all colors, undulating hills roller-coasting down to the cabin, and buzzing insects busily doing whatever they were doing. My mind swells with euphoria sharing out its visuals in High Def LSD, DMT, Liquid Crystal 4k UHD Resolution and a 720 degree surround sound for the musical score, the conclusion of my movie, the Hero has come home! The song builds in epic frequency and intensity until its symphonic notes fill the whole entire world. I slow my approach as I finally arrive back home after all these many years. I remember every last piece of its cut and primed logs put into their place just like the Lincoln logs did when I was a kid. Bricks, stone, mortar, the heavy oak support beam that held the peak of the low pitched roof stable and firm. I had built this cabin with my three boys so very long ago.


Hello!” I shout at the gate, “I’m Home!” Absolute silence.


“Where is everybody?” I open the front gate and walk onto a path of cobbled agates and polished stones noticing for the first time that there were now shoes on my feet. They looked Italian, leather slip-ons, dark brown curves, soft and unbearably comfortable. I slip them off and step into the loamy wet earth off the path and into the garden where the swing she had me put up is moving, unoccupied, in the breeze. Breeze? I look up to see the sky, but instead of white clouds drifting in a sea of blue I see the Under Earth and the great sterling silver city of Shiloh hanging upside down above me, and, just to be sure that I am only using words here, I fall in Awe, remembering as if for the first time what it was to love a thing.


The Holy City of Shiloh, The “eye” of Siloam, the silver cairns of Shinoble Ra!


I weep for it’s sterile beauty. I close my eyes and cry like a little baby in his mother’s arms. The sheer perfection of those ancient stones, those pure, white walled buildings catalyzes my long absent thoughts into so many memories. So many unreal memories!

That’s where they were! That’s where I will find her and the boys! Not here, not at home, but in the City, shopping no doubt, strolling the boardwalks, sipping on fine wines, smoking their pipes, and drubbeling in heavier brews. They will be so surprised to see me!




. . .


The alabaster streets are terribly empty, bare, and absent of any life or moving form.


“Hello? Where is everybody?” I speak, but the emptiness makes my voice even that much more alone. How can this be? Everyone dies, I surmise, don’t we all return back home to take up again the art of eternity? Where is everyone hiding?


Billions of years! The cycle of to and fro, mortal schools of thought and reflections, to live anew, die, and come back alive. This cycle was not about to change now! Where the hell was everyone at? All of us have been doing this same exact thing for forever! Was it not just yesterday that we all arrived here from the Center of All Things? Was it not just yesterday we arrived here to established a new home from our eternal parents? Did not God, the Father, the Mother of us all, Thee All Knowing Supermassive Black Hole Being at the Center of All Things demand EXPANSION?


Something was terribly wrong...


Hello!” I repeat over and over again, running wildly through the empty white streets. “Anyone, please!”


I leave not a single corner unexplored, no building was left unsearched. The great coliseums of government were stripped clean, not even a crumb was left to weep over. Years, ancient, long count calendar years, escape my tireless search. I am consumed, until the end...when it becomes more than apparent that I must not, cannot, stay here.


Chapter 2



Christ did not commit suicide on the cross. Even though he had the power to free himself and chose not to, this is not conclusive evidence of suicide.


Christ could have lived to the end of old age and completed the sacrifice of atonement as an old man in the Garden of Geth or on the cross at Golga, but he could not stand the suffering that was upon the Earth. Against all his happiness, against all his love and longing for his family, friends, and neighbors, he knew there was no end to life's suffering, in its present state of quarantine outside the Garden of Eden, until he could pass onto the other side and report back to the Center of All Things and tell them, our holy eternal parents, his concern for the suffering souls on the Earth. His love for us, and his desire for us to be free from quarantine with the price of death that it embodied, motivated him to sacrifice all that he had and was.


Christ decided to cut his life short to bare his news of Earth to the Father. He cut off his personal love for his wife, his strapping two sons, and his little, precious baby girl, Sophia, because he loved all of us, and what right did he have to be happy while others suffered so greatly? How often do you feel that way? Everyone of us goes through our moments of living good and living a nightmare, choices we make, or others force upon us, as we battle from birth to the grave. The good book says Christ conquered death through his sacrifice and resurrection, but death is still quite obviously here to stay, so I wonder what Christ achieved, or conquered, or is he still going to conquer it after he gets back from the long journey to the Center of All Things? Where the hell was he?


Do you believe in God?




















































































I do.


In fact, I believe in God so much I am going to end my life tonight so I can go find out what’s holding Jesus up!


Just a story folks, don’t call my Mom, please...


I’m pretty sure if I kill myself there will be no leaving this Earth, like a trap door to the core where the great diamond that spins inside the Earth waits like a giant, glass prison, prism, plasma ball. Love is the only thing that can ascend to the Heavens. The only thing that is lighter than a feather on the scales of the Dog Star, Anubis. Seriously, though, listen to my reasons and I will tell you how I avoided suicide, just as much as Jesus avoided it by bringing his beloved brother, Judas Iscariot, into a secret deal to cheat hell.


For the sake of all humanity, past and present, Judas, take these words to the Priests, tell them where they can find me and how. They will be suspicious at first, for they know how much you love me. Our family we have here, you and I, are trapped behind the doors of Heaven! I must go and open the door, Judas, I must go and conquer death!”


My Lord, my brother, my Christ! Please do not ask of me this, please, I beg of you, there must be another way!”


No, Judas. I have seen what must be done. There is no other way.” Judas sighed heavily, looked around for anyone that might be listening, or able to help, take his place or his very life from him. He would rather die than betray his Lord. He prayed with terrible dilemma asking for strength when Joshua pressed his forehead against his and prayed to the Father with him. Finally, the strength he needed was received and Judah acquiesced.


They will not be suspicious...my, Lord. If you will not turn away from this course of action then I know what I must do.”


I heard those words.


I was there.


After you die there is no more time. Past and Present are all the same day. The Future is something else entirely.


The same day Jesus left into the skies above those bewildered witnesses to return to the Father, was the same day I discovered a way to take my own life without committing suicide.





. . .



We fall in love on St. Patty’s Day, move around the courtship of modern American angst and finally find in one another our bestest friend. I tell her about the Sun, the crossing of it’s up and down motion in relation to the center of our Milky Way, and the central position it will take on Dec 21st, 2012. She listens with honest interest as I explain that the whole solar system is changing, not just the Earth, with these popular, economically driven, lies about global warming and climate change caused by humans.


Just one volcano spews out more CO2 than all the cars and trucks and planes and trains have since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution.” I tell her. “What ego we have to say humans have caused the Earth to warm! Ridiculous! It’s more likely we’re headed into a mini Ice Age, really.” She listens and soaks it all in. We watch the Solar Maximum of 2012 push into 2013, 2014, 2015...


The Earth’s shields are dying, Baby.” I say, watching a slew of YouTube pseudo science documentaries by semi-professional laymen researching ancient texts and prophecy for another end date to look forward to when I hit on a video with current mappings of our magnetic shields. Not only are they 15% weaker than 100 years ago, but the North and South poles are moving at never before seen speeds, unprecedented, straight beelines towards their new positions. The North Pole somewhere over Sri Lanka, the South exactly opposite just East of South America where the South Atlantic Magnetic Anomaly currently lives. New satellites monitoring the Van Allen Belts color code the Earth’s magnetics and it is clear we now have four poles, exactly what would happen before a complete Magnetic Pole Shift. It blows my mind.


Look, Babe!” I shout from the bedroom checking my other internet sites showing the GOES and SOHO satellite feeds. “We just got hit by something huge!” The graphs for X-Ray emissions on the Sun are off the charts, her hazel eyes are wide, struck with fear, and we see the Earth reverberate within the same hour with two 8 pointers, back to back, off the West coast of Sumatra. Exactly where the Boxing Day tsunami hit in 2005.


We stay up way too late in the night discussing the possible outcomes of a world hit by a kill shot solar storm, like the 1859 Carrington Event that set telegraph lines on fire across the US, yet still allowed telegraph operators in San Fran to talk with operators in New York. Such a Global EMP blast, if experienced today, would take us all back to the stone age real good and quick.


Too many damn movies about the end of the world, it would seem, as if Hollywood was preparing us, or keeping us thinking about it everyday, as if thinking about it would make it really happen? But then, you see major news reports of Jupiter swallowing an extinction level event monster meteor, Saturn’s otherwise consistent surface disturbed by a huge hole, possibly another rogue NEO, large storm anomalies seen for the first time on Uranus and Neptune’s surface, Mars swallowed up in the Halo of Comet Ison in late 2013, the martian atmosphere exploding in a bright flash of light before the live feeds on Slooh were cut off from public view. Venus’s orbital rotation suddenly, and inexplicably, sped up in the spring of 2014 now taking less than 100 earth days to make a single full rotation, or day, on the Venusian axis. Pluto gets kicked off the planet list in 2015 only to have “professional science” discover evidence of 2, maybe even 3 or more, Neptune sized objects orbiting the Sun beyond the orbit of Pluto. Planet X, Nibiru, and Nemesis are names that are now common in the news. Doomsday preppers are everywhere, even on Reality TV.


We talk into the night about how love could save the whole world, and it seems as if she is right, as if we humans and our combined emotional output has a direct connection to what the Sun is doing, sufficient evidence for or against are lacking, but it appears to be spot on. Call this phenomenon Earth Facing Quiet, EFQ, because year after year, ever since March 2011, the Sun's Earth facing disc consistently quiets itself, blasting off large volumes of plasma just before or just after the danger for Earth directed influences have past. What possibly could affect the actions of an entire star? Regardless, whether the Sun spares us a direct hit or not, our mortal follies are not guaranteed to continue for one more single day.


There can be no promise of tomorrow, Babe.” I tell her as we wait excitedly for the most recent incoming shock wave from a gigantic Coronal Hole just now passing the Earth facing disc. “This is the same kind of set up right before Japan and Fukushima!” I say with a strange morbid hope that requires the entire human race to die before things can get any better.


She want’s Yellowstone to blow so we can both be frozen in an eternal embrace, like Pompeii, for future humans to discover. It’s chillingly romantic, takes the fear from my heart, the kind of fear the Bible talks about in the last days that stops men's hearts and they die where they stand. I do not want to die alone. I want to die with everyone else in a massive, world wide catastrophe.


We make desperate love, the kind that must last forever, for tomorrow we die. 15 minutes after we see the Goes X-Ray flux shoot up to a powerful X2.9 Solar Flare and throwing a huge CME right at us. So much for EFQ!

“Did we do that?” She asks me, and honestly I consider the possibilities that we, somehow, could attract a kill shot with our love. At first, it was love that would keep the Earth safe from such a storm, but now, more than ever, as the world sinks deeper into a global endgame of staged economic warfare, and we feel the pressure of our future opportunities squashed and squeezed by the greed of the few, the State, the Feds, the banksters on Wall Street, all sucking their “rightful” share out of our worn, bloodstained pockets, I want the world to end. I wish it washed cleaned of us, even if by fire, even if it means everything and everyone I love dies with it.


What the hell is Jesus waiting for? How bad does it have to get before God intervenes?


Fuck this!” I say loudly in my sleep. I have to cut out the middle man, this mortal life, and go find Jesus. If I can find Jesus and find out what’s going on, why we are even quarantined in the first place...if I could...if I could just...strip away the clouds of dusty nebulous hydrogen that hides the true brilliance of the Milky Way from Earth’s view...If I could just rip the veil away and reveal the face of God.










Chapter 3



The plan, as far as she knows, is this:


To live each day as if it were our last. To eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.


But we don’t die. We live through another World Economic Collapse in the fall of 2017. We see the powers of Russia and China invade from the North and the West is handed over to them by the new order of the National Democratic Socialists Party and their residing President Elect. Most say, “Oh well.” and keep buying things that say, “Made in China”, but China now manufactures all that junk here, huge swaths of land and property stolen from ranchers and public lands to be handed over in lieu of America’s debt to them. Americans now works for less per hour in these sweatshop factories than the Chinese do back home.


Those who stand in defiance and try to defend the defunct constitution are tormented and suffer as if by hosts of locusts, wasps, and biting flies dressed in the uniforms of State and Federal Officers. The great cities of America, that had never known war and were foolishly without walls, fell. They fell like Detroit in 2008 and were left stinking up the ground with their bloated Walmart flesh.


America was only the latest tragedy as those banksters still left with any power in London gorged on the carcass left behind by the now defunct EU. Jihad was tearing open the rest of Europe, the Holy Lands of Israel and the entire Middle East had fallen into a blisteringly mad game of nuclear terrorism. The land was nearly desolate, totally toxic, it was as the Bible spoke of, hard to find a single stone that still stood on top of another. From Turkey to Afghanistan down through Yemen and back to Egypt was unlivable, gone, a nuclear waste zone. Only Israel remained. Israel had cleaned up house with their American paid for Military Machine. They stood proud, surrounded by nothing but dust and death. They had come out on top, won the final war of Armageddon, again, and was presently busy rebuilding the walls of Jericho against the rest of the world. I watched the UNC broadcast that officially condemned Israel to international isolation for using their nukes. The next day the United Nations building in New York was targeted and destroyed by an Oklahoma style terrorist attack, the truck that blew up carried over 8 tons of nitrogen rich fertilizer and explosives.


I can’t stand it anymore, Babe!” I cry out turning off the news, the sickness of man's injustice to man was too much, the world is in the arms of utter madness, and to add insult to injury, another suicide bombing in San Francisco had just killed over a hundred people on the BART near Bay Fair. “Jesus needs to come back right fucking now!” I pray and beg for the Sun to explode and take us all back to the Stone Age, or for Yellowstone to tear open the Earth and swallow us whole, but still the Earth is spared, EFQ returns, and the storms rage on all around her.


Never before recorded heat and cold records ripple through the news each week, just to be broken the following week after that. New categories of tornadoes, typhoons, and hurricanes were made up to account for the recent super storms plotting all across the globe. No one was safe. The Earth wobbled noticeably now, back and forth, the sun setting further north in the Summer than anyone could ever remember, then setting just as far south in the Winter. The Inuit tribes had completely abandoned their normal hunting grounds and were now seen regularly in Montana, Idaho, North and South Dakota where they had followed the migrating reindeer, and with them, polar bears. American polar bears...ridiculous!


Strange new sun diving comets flew in from the Oort Cloud every week and blew right into the Sun, the Sun exploding super fast CME’s out the opposite side in response each and every time it happened making it apparent that even little objects like comets could affect the behavior of the massive Sun. Currently, the Sun is dressed in the largest magnetic filament ever seen. It stretches from one side of the Sun to the other and refuses to let go. The filament survives two more trips around the Sun and then, just as it is about to lose sight of the Earth for the third time and disappear around the eastern limb, trillions and trillions of tons of plasma, enough to make an entirely new Jupiter, lifts up off the surface of the Sun to whip out in a helical spiral so long it actually touches Venus. It sets our sister planet ablaze with equatorial auroras, collapses her magnetic fields and finally strips away Venus’s entire atmosphere. Poof...gone.


Those were the last reports we ever saw. The last Television and Internet, Netflix, and Facebook we ever had.


This is it, my love.” She says, as we hold hands under a star filled sky ablaze with sudden bursts of rainbows and auroras snaking their tails down to us with deep reds and orange streamers, like gradienting spikes of fire. Nothing works. The car and Jeep are useless. The power lines outside caught fire and had melted into fragile strands of glass. Record cold currently grips the West, the Rocky Mountains especially, as the Winter Sun rises and sets in less than 4 hours. We want to stay out there and watch the show, but it is just too damn cold. We go inside and bundle all of us up in the living room against a wind chill of minus 50 degrees Fahrenheit.


Inside is a fire and the time on the only clock left working, a wind up pocket watch from the fifties, says 5:15pm, but it feels more like Midnight. I am hiding my laptop with all our family photos and videos in the microwave as I am convinced this will act like a Faraday Cage. The damn 1980’s Dodge Dynasty refused to start. I had kept it all these years thinking it would survive just such an event, but no...there is no going anywhere in this mess anyways. I had plans to use the alternator and battery to build into a windmill on the roof for emergency power, but the battery is completely fried, every copper wire has melted and is covered and etched with thick, white, acidic salts. The TV, the kitchen appliances, the boys PlayStation and other electronics are still smoking in the garage, even though they were all unplugged, the smoke continues with the all too familiar smell of electrical burn.


The neighbors, amazingly, still had a landline phone that worked, but no dial tone, it just received emergency radio broadcasts in Mandarin, Chinese. The next day, before sunrise now around Noon, we hear gunshots. Our peaceful, little town that had, for the most part, been spared from the deluge of extreme weather and political circus fucks, was now home to hopelessness. The gunshots continued throughout the short hours of daylight as our neighbors chose to leave this life with some dignity instead of staying here to battle out the rationing of our remaining food and supplies. I envied them, wanted to join them in there death’s, even justified that there would be more for others if I took my own life...

I awake with a massive hangover. It’s still only 2016 and none of the above has happened yet. I turn on the tube to see the regular circus freaks vying for the White House. Gas prices have plummeted to all time lows, yet we still pay three bucks a gallon at the pump. Russia is pissed off, the Bear being pushed into a corner with all the Western Allies begging for someone to do something stupid so they can feed the Military Industrial Machine, and I am having a very difficult time trying to convince my wife that I need to go find out what’s taking Jesus so long.


I can’t do this myself, Baby. I need your help!”


What your saying is fucking crazy! Don’t you hear yourself?” She screams, “You want to commit suicide so you can make sure Jesus is okay? That’s insane! That’s just fucking insane!”


Don’t you believe there’s life after death?” I am crazy. Solid, unmoved, maniacal calm.


No!”


What?” I say, shocked that she could not see the sensibility in my plan. “Of course you believe, Baby. You know just as well as I do that there’s more out there.”


NO NO NO NO NO!” She shuts down. She can’t think about this anymore. I shouldn’t have confided in her, but she’s been pushing into my head lately, wanting to know why I have been so distracted.


Babe...” I say, curling her up in my arms on the bed. I have an hour before I need to leave to my new job, this sweatshop call center I support internet connections for 9 bucks an hour, a job that makes, according to the State of Utah, too much money for Medicaid. I don’t even work 40 hours a week. Neither does the wife. Nobody works full time anymore. Thank God we have food stamps, oops, they took those now too. Damn Obamacare fines for not being able to afford insurance killed us the last three years, and they just keep taking and taking and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.


Babe...it was just a dream. I really don’t think I could escape Earth even if I didn’t kill myself. I’d be stuck here haunting this house watching you and the boys and wishing so bad I was still alive. Only love can travel the stars, Babe. Only love...”


“Then make love to me.” She says gently, leading me down into her soft promises. “I promise you our Love will save the World!” I take her with a heavy heart, my hands on automatic, as my brain slips over to the other side and I see Jesus, trapped in a cage, stuck...unable to make his way back home to Earth.










Chapter 4



Come on you stupid son of bitch!” I scream at myself and the entire universe. Had I failed? Had I been laying in that hospital operating room with fatal injuries I had caused myself? “NO!” I had not committed suicide! I had a full proof plan! And that plan was to travel the stars, find Jesus and get some help secured for the good people of Earth, but just the thought of having to pass by the surface of the Earth where those I had once loved in life were currently putting my lifeless

body in a box to be buried in the ground was...unendurable.


Ahh, love...” I say, as I watch her crying herself into a distinct hollowed out shadow. She is not even aware the boys are trying to get her attention, pulling on her black dress and saying they want to go eat at McDonald’s or something.


Don’t cry, baby...” I say to the shadow, unable to look directly at her, as if doing so would instantly send me back down to Hades. “Got to go find Jesus, you know. Got to find out where everybody went. They’re all gone down there, Baby. Hell is empty.”


Her sobbing makes me crazy. The boys are taken away by Grandma and Grandpa, silent and traumatized, leaving me alone with my bestest friend.


“Babe...” I say, trying to look at her again, but it is like trying to look directly at the sun...it hurts. My feet start sinking into the Earth. Urgent, threatening emotions, weigh me back down to the emptiness of hell. I must leave now! I must not let my death be in vain! I turn away and gaze up into those clear blue skies and wonder where the Sun is. The sky is empty blue, not even a single cloud. I cannot find the source of the daylight, but there, in the East, rising like Venus, there is a star beckoning me away from this graveyard. Her crying fades into the background like a TV left on in the other room. I follow the star, second one to the right and on till morning. For years I follow that star. For years I haunt the Earth’s surface unable to reach the light of heaven.


Only love can travel the stars...


Across mountains and deserts, through never ending fields of prairies and pine forests, from the tundra back down to the ocean I come full circle. The Earth is round! Once again, I stand at the shadow of her, the brightness around her unbearable to look at, her cries tearing my non existent heart apart. A hundred years later she is still there, alone by my grave, mocking my inability to move on.


Please...” I beg miserably at her shadow. “Please let me go, baby...”


Her crying suddenly stops. The brightness around her shifts and her shadow moves long over the grave as if it is late in the evening, the Sun, wherever it is, must be low in the West.


Hope you find what you’re looking for.” She says, and her voice is like a gunshot wound to my head. What ears I have left to hear with are ringing with that explosion and then, quite suddenly, I am all alone. The Sun has set, the shadows thickened into night, and I have only that one lonely star in the dark Eastern skies to look at. It rings in my ears, like when it is way too quiet, and the ringing quickly turns into utter torture. Unable to turn it off or do anything beyond the darkness of night I spend the next thousand years in acute, abject insanity praying for mercy and forgiveness from anyone or anything out there that might be listening. I turn into the moldy earth, crawling under the soil like a worm desperate to turn the ringing off, to dampen the call from an alien being intent on my subjugation. So foreign is this call, so strange and out of harmony that I am convinced I must be no more than an animal, just a deer whose run out in front of the bright headlights of an oncoming car.


I crash into that ringing Eastern star with my animal soul at what must have been a billion times faster than the speed of light. I smash and twist and suck in the breadth and width of it becoming one with a new and alien physical form. I am no longer a deer, but a star! A massive wandering Blue Giant crashing up and out through the spiral arms of the Milky Way to spend the next million years in darkness, blackness...forever.


The ringing never stops. I am the ringing. My bloated sphere finally collapses under it’s own weight and I sink down explosively into a perfect singular mind. There is a place inside there that I know. Inside of that place there is an ancient, protected particle, a single memory from long, long ago. It is the memory of the Conclave. The Conclave being that one place we were all to remember to go to if ever we got lost, like Salmon returning to spawn, and I was most certainly, and irrevocably, lost.


The memory of the Conclave is being held on the 7th Ring of Gado, one of the largest structures in the Universe. A massive ring of galaxies that fills the outer shell of the Center of All Things. 600 Billion years ago we all met here, laid out the plan for the rest of eternity, and the purpose of being was given a direction, and a directorship. Many refused to agree and there was war. This is where we all met after the war was over. We each, individually, gave our word that we would never orbit another Center, but our word was not enough. Because we had failed and followed Lucifer into orbiting another center we would need to prove ourselves through time: time being isolated to physical worlds, and distance: we would be banished as far from the Center of All Things as possible, and then choice: we would be born with complete amnesia, free to choose good or evil, and then to be judged accordingly. We would be tested and tried in a world that hated our bodies, flipped our reasoning's upside down and turned suffering into the only achievable goal. Only the truly penitent would make it through this. Only those with love would be allowed back into The Center of All Things.


The memory sparked outrage. I remembered the reason we followed Lucifer in the first place, that stupid war of words and attrition, it wasn’t like war in the physical realm...no, much less interesting. My rage manifested itself in spiral arms, births of clustering giant blue stars filling my void and I swung out and in and back out again the size of a galaxy as I reached the 7th Ring of Gado


Time to bust up this party and get some questions answered.


Or in this case,

Answers Questioned.



Where the fuck is Jesus!?”

I am the size of a galaxy. Every atom a star. I barrel into the 7th ring of Gado with jets of rage pushing Gamma Rays millions of light years from my central brain, my massive Super Black Hole where I think and I am.


Where is He!!” I roar in self absorption, slamming into the Conclave at a speed near that of light itself and the ripples I make are only that of a single molecule of water dropped into an ocean the size of the Sun. When I finally cool down enough to join the dance I can hear every other galaxy, every other individual soul, echoing my desperation, echoing my own questions and then multiplied them by forever. We were all asking the same questions! No one knew anymore than I did where Jesus was! We were all here for the same damn reason!


JESUS!!!


We fall forever around the unknown and unknowable Center of All Things. A host of lost and crying children...




. . .




She is beautiful, her upturned face watching the fireball streak across the Northern skies as if poured out from the Big Dipper, the Great Bear, signaling the end of times. I first saw it while she was still on the porch. She had enough time to decipher my erratic hand signals and urgent grunts to jump off the porch, turn around, look up and find it flying through the skies.


Wow!” She says, still catching another second or two of the show snuggled at my side.


Incredible!” I laugh, feeling her very real body next to mine.


The news is terrible tonight. I want to turn if off, but we are both glued to tragedies local and national and then the world spins on without a second thought for Who is dying. It just blows my mind that at any given moment someone has just died, their ghost shed from its vessel, naturally or not. How many of us have died while I sit and bicker on about needing to do something to save the world?


Nepal just got rocked!” The morning is gray, the news is still on and I am still sitting in front of it. She rushes over to see the news gluing herself next to me in useless empathy.


Oh no!” She says, and the news pushes the story. For a day, at least, there is no more talk about the 2016 Presidential “hopefuls”. The news keeps saying over and over again how, “the death toll is going to rise”. It rises alright, and then Nepal gets rocked again. The videos posting to YouTube swell the heart with fear and sick entertainment.


She won’t let our boys sleep downstairs anymore. She says she’s afraid of earthquakes and the thought of the boys being trapped beneath rubble drives her crazy. I’m more worried about a huge sinkhole swallowing our entire house while we’re sleeping. But then things always go back to normal once the news stops talking about it. The news doesn’t get time anymore to talk about one story too long. The news get’s past Nepal only to cover the intentional crash of Germanwings A320, a few more mass murders at another public school that seem to be staged so there can be real legislation for gun control in America, Russian involvement in Syria and the continued drama of their bordering war over the annexation of Crimea and the last intentional passenger jet disaster over the Ukraine.


We make love and I beg the Sun to explode.





. . .




Every time I try to leave to where I really want to go, it is already where I am, because I am already there.”


SERJ TANKIAN

Listen before I puke my last guts out and become something all together not human.


When you die you are no longer, any more, alive.”


E n V o L




When is it enough to stop spinning?


This life has been locked down. We don’t come with factory reset buttons. You cannot hold your breath until you die or stop your heart from beating just by taking thought to do so. It would be easier to hold back the tide and stop the Sun and Moon from moving in the sky.


She wants to stay close. There is a storm on the horizon. A brooding black thing you cannot hold back. The Sun has literally turned off. It is a crimson, purple disc that gives no warmth. The Earth is a frozen wasteland with pockets of human ingenuity circled in non renewable warmth.


We are living in Seattle. We are old.


The glaciers pour over Mt. Reiner in huge, blue, celestine waves. A massive wall of ice rings the metropolitan refugee camps from Redmond to Renton and over to Bainbridge Island. The ice is topping out at 3000 feet high and pushing relentlessly closer every day.


There is commotion outside. Sudden bright flashes and deadening thuds of explosions.


Get down!” I yell, and she obediently does so.


The explosions rip shock waves through our little apartment. The road outside our fifth story window goes to the right and down East Madison to the city center. I can see a huge mass of people running up the road. I can see others loaded stock and barrel above them, entrenched in their homes, determined to stand their ground, determined to not submit their shrinking land and resources to these obvious invaders, no matter the little children among them. They throw cocktails of flammable fluids off their roofs and out their bedroom windows igniting the people in the streets with liquid fire. A pipe bomb is thrown from the window above me and I watch as people die...


I can hear their dying echoes from 5 billion light years away as I watch newly arriving galaxy after galaxy merge into and frame the 7th Ring of Gado to join the endless dance of the damned.










Chapter 5



Where do we go?


We, who wander this wasteland in search of our better selves...”


Mad Max




There is a world where the sentient beings experience love and find their mates by a single touch of their left hands. Embedded in their left hands is a cortex extension of their cerebral nervous system. It extends down through the left arm into their palm and is completely inert until such time that they touch their DNA match for procreation. The left hands then entwine on contact with their cellular mates and they are then connected and inseparable for the space of two years, two months, and two days. While they share genetic information for child birth, which comes at the end of this incubation cycle, they work together, live together, and share every waking moment as inseparable Siamese partners.


In the beginning, this union proved quite prolific and they spread across twenty three planets and five star systems numbering in the trillions before finding a mate turned into an extremely rare event. Pilgrimages consisting of millions of souls met just to touch left hands, and those that touched and successfully entwined were celebrated as celebrities, their unions publicly displayed for all to see on their rich and extravagant media platforms, their lives to be then followed in rapt series for all to watch and woo over for the next two years, two months, and two days.


The children of these unions were often swept away. Parenting was the job of their entire species, and it was very rare to have parents stay together after birth to raise their children to adulthood. In fact, it was inherently difficult to stay with your mate after the connection was gone, for the body demanded a single motion to move on and find another match.


Tulia was 17 years old. She had just left her graduating class on her home planet to travel to a much talked about pilgrimage meeting on the far outskirts of the system, Dae. There, she would hopefully find a match and become a star! The lightwings that her transport bird would fly through glowed red and yellow Gama jets a thousand miles long dressing her serene face in golden orange.


Do you think the Shades will be there?” Asked Tulia of her SIS, or Sister in Service. SIS was a genetic clone, a bio copy robot of Tulia that most of the younger generation were into these days with the shrinking population as it was. SIS winked, smiled at her Sister’s expectations and sighed truthfully.


The Shades will be there.” Said SIS, flowing a light purple shawl around Tulia’s shoulders. “They have the right to express their opinions, Tulia.” The Shades were a relatively new group to the pilgrimage scene. Just over ten years ago, right after their population peaked and stopped growing, a movement that involved an individual's right to cover their left hand exploded on planet Hael, a very liberal world that fostered the belief that their species should be concerned with finding immortality and no longer rely on their species natural and failing reproduction methodology.


The average lifespan of an individual is 240 years. The oldest recorded life, Aemae Faenlil from system, Frae, was a staggering four hundred and twenty years when she passed from old age. Scientists and politicians on Hael had successfully netted the largest population of single, never matched adults in all the worlds, and the formation of the Shades had only made their caustic antics that much more unavoidable. Soon, there would be a reckoning. The population of their species was already going backwards having peaked at approximately 61 Trillion souls, and it was the Shades mission to make it worse by inviting, coercing, or convincing others, however possible, into the practice of covering their left hands with a bio-negative glove called, The Sacrosanct. There were rumors of an even darker Sect within the Shades that would willingly have their left hands surgically removed, but Tulia had never seen that one, and besides, she was absolutely convinced with her studies in bio-genetic transfer rates that their species was due for a single union that would give birth to a new genetic line that did not die, but would live forever.


Time for the long sleep, Sister.” Said SIS, as she guided Tulia and those deep thoughts of hers out of the observation deck and into their personal quarters where they would both sleep through the long journey to system, Dae.


Sleep well, SIS.” Said Tulia, yawning and pulling the light purple shawl tightly around her folded arms.


Dream of the stars...life immortal.” Said SIS, smiling warmly as she closed the cryo lid gently over her master’s already sleeping form. “Tomorrow will be a great new day.” She left Tulia to retire to her own chambers and drink the clear liquid that initiated the comatic long sleep. SIS closed her eyes as the cryo lid fell softly around her with a gentle hiss.


Three years passed before Tulia again awakened to SIS’s outstretched hand. The interstellar bird, Nightwish, was ablaze with activity as a thousand transport birds filled the sky. The bird was revered among them, anything with wings and flew was held with deepest respect, and even machines that flew were given names. The transport birds, called tresses, picked up the millions and flew them down to land together on the isolated moon, Chalice, which orbited the homeworld of system, Dae, a water world full of giant, island continents that currently shined out as a tiny, blue crescent gem just outside Tulia’s window.


“Giana Tolz...” Said Tulia reverently. She had never been so far from her home world. A bright pang of fear and looming misadventure gripped her heart. She swallowed the sudden doubt and childish fears out of her mind and strode confidently, with SIS in arm, onto the next awaiting tress. Three years of news and media updates were being fed into their bird as fellow pilgrims solemnly took in the changes of their massive and widespread societies. News of not a single match during their long sleep, news of politics, markets, celebrities, and something no one had ever seen before.


War was not a well known part of their culture. No one in recent memory had ever seen riots or mass hysteria, but there it was in full crystal color wrapping up their fellow passengers in its spell. Several reports just coming in were taking place on Giana Tolz. Mass groups of Shade supporters were attempting to block Tresses from leaving Giana Tolz to Chalice for the long awaited Pilgrimage.


Disgusting.” Said a male pilgrim not much older than Tulia. “They should lock up everyone of those dissenters.”


Agreed.” Said another, a much older pilgrim with white in his hair, “What can they possibly hope to achieve by interfering with the natural order?”


Tulia wanted to touch the first boy's left hand. She half expected it would be that easy, but then the other half was impossible odds. No new children, She whispered under her breath. The odds were well above staggering. No matter how many Pilgrims joined them on Chalice, Tulia’s genetic match could be some old man far away on Konnae Island, idling away his time playing go-ko and enjoying a long retirement. The odds were above staggering, but the majority of their species believed these pilgrimages to be of the utmost importance, an almost mandatory journey for every individual at some time in their lives. Most chose to go right after graduation, like Tulia, but the youth were quite rare these days, the majority of the other pilgrims joining her on Chalice were much older. Females and males with crisp white lines along the sides of their temples. One of those older men turned just then and caught her staring at him. Embarrassed, she turned to SIS who smiled knowingly. SIS saw everything and was enjoying herself way too much for a robot at this point.


Here he comes.” Said SIS in a merry little tune.

Oh no, SIS!” Said Tulia urgently under her breath. “What do I do?”


Be nice.” Said SIS. “Who knows, he might be the one...”


Banross, at your service, my ladies” Said the taller than expected pilgrim. He lifted up his left hand as if to quote some famous celebrity and then offered it to Tulia. “What are the odds?” He said.


About 600 trillion to one.“ Said SIS, forgetting nice and protectively gliding in front of her master. “Are you always this forward, sir?” Banross stumbled on his words for a moment before Tulia rescued his dignity.


Stop, SIS.” She said, gently backing SIS out from her guarding position and stepping up to the tall, and not so terribly old or ugly, stranger. “My name is Tulia and this is my SIS.”


Yes,” Said Banross, “I can see the resemblance.” Banross still held out his left hand, but then gave Tulia a sweeping bow and said, “A pure pleasure to meet you, my lady.” SIS nudged Tulia in the back and rolled her eyes at Banross’s outdated courting techniques.


You will have to wait for the ceremonies to start, Banross.” Said Tulia, “It is not acceptable for pilgrims to test matches outside the arena.”


Of course,” Said Banross, extracting his left hand from any further offering and placing it behind his back.“You are, of course, absolutely right.” He smiled down at Tulia, bowed stiffly, and said, “May we meet again, beautiful Tulia, in the arena.” A quick, sharp nod to SIS and Banross departed back to watching the news with the other male pilgrims.

How embarrassing.” Said SIS.


I don’t know...” Said Tulia, “He wasn’t bad to look at.”


Are you kidding?” Said SIS, “He was at least one hundred years old.”

These days there isn’t much of a choice, SIS.” Said Tulia, stealing another glance at Banross as he conversed seriously with a group of men about the disturbing news coming out of Giana Tolz. Tulia’s attentions were stolen back to the news as a screaming Shade protester, a young man with a tortured face, covered in deep purple stains of his own blood, shouted profanities at the pilgrims on Chalice,


Weak! Pathetic dronage, gullmen! Take back fate into your own hand!


The tress goes dead quiet as the reality of what they were seeing settled down heavily on all of it’s passengers. Tulia briefly saw the mangled stump of the young man’s left hand before the line was cut by media breaking for sponsored commercials. A horrible dread fell on Tulia. She contemplated seriously the possibilities that the deranged young man may just have been the only match in all the universe for her, and now...


Murmurs of shock and disapproval vibrated through the whole tress as pious pilgrims started to curse and shout at the badly placed commercials. SIS clung tightly to Tulia’s right arm, her eyes shut tightly, and wishing, terribly so, that she and Tulia were back home in school where things made sense.


Tulia had chosen a SIS when she was 14. Her graduating class was one of the last to be filled to capacity. Only a very few private schools held those younger than her, so cloned robots just made sense. The fast dwindling number of births made bio clones a popular and acceptable practice. Most girls Tulia’s age had one, but boys seemed to grow tired of theirs after a couple of years, and were now a symbol of independence and maturity not to have one past graduation. Their discarded clones would be let go, unprinted, to join society as they saw fit, as long as they marked their left hands as a clone, which usually took the form of a permanent tattoo between their thumb and forefinger. SIS was always on the lookout for one of them.


Boys are just so different than girls, thought SIS. Why Tulia was so eager to touch millions of their left hands was a mystery to her, but SIS could see Tulia’s excitement, her anticipation still very real despite the horror on the news. SIS watched her steal another quick look at Banross and blush to see he was already looking at her.


Stop encouraging the old man, Tulia.” Said SIS, pushing her further away from the group Banross was with. Tulia smiled at her guiltily, letting SIS guide her closer to the Tesses main doors where they would exit once they landed on Chalice.



Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Purchase this book or download sample versions for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-59 show above.)