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Thread: A Future Earth

  1. Link to Post #121
    Avalon Member TelosianEmbrace's Avatar
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    Sunday, May 12th, 2013, 2.54PM, Red Hill football oval, Red Hill, Mornington Peninsula, Victoria, Australia.

    They came today. For many, it was their first view of the craft. There were three, shining like liquid mercury, hovering in the sky. We were all waiting. I was sensing the crowd, the surges of emotion, the anticipation. And I was shaking my head. This was not how they wanted us to behave. We were not calm, peaceful. We were an unruly mob, jockeying for position near the railings. There were shouts and pushing and general shows of anxiety. There were no police, as this was not a recognised function. Rather, it was televised through word of mouth via increasing social gatherings brought about through the necessity of banding together to discuss the escalating social chaos and uncertainty. The powers of the past that people had so relied on- the governments and city councils and such, were fading fast in relevance and reach. The birthing process of this new society was laboured and there were those that were clamourously voicing their opinions of doom and mistrust. Yet the new thread of social consciousness was unmistakable to all but a few. Tremendous hope and perseverance battled against the old dogma and tyranny. Yet the field of battle was not global or national. It occurred primarily at the grass roots level, on the streets, in the shops and the cafes, the gyms and the libraries. People were talking. Views were expressed and debated. Finally, it took all this turmoil for the people to start to talk, to indeed believe, that they had the opportunity to steer their own course, to decide for themselves the reality in which they wished to live.

    Sunday, May 19th.

    Once again we gathered at the oval. There were far more of us now. Word had, indeed, got out that the craft had appeared. The unruly elements were tempered by families and older people. One very noticeable change was the presence of a group of 'officials', volunteers who chose to don safety vests and stand at the fenceline. Their presence was more symbolic than any physical deterrent. A good percentage of them were middle aged women, visionaries of this future time who calmed the crowd more with the gentle prayers and manner. Yet this was a society that had been entrained and controlled by symbols, and the effect of a few simple safety vests marked the gathering with a much needed sense of regulation. And the crafts came again, on cue, at exactly 2PM. Their approach was different, too. They didn't just drop from the sky to hover over the oval, but instead approached slowly and purposely from different directions, flying low over the crowd so that all could get a good view of their sleek and gently pulsating exterior. Gathering over the centre of the oval now, they rose and fell constantly. This drew the attention of the crowd, and kept them from any manifestation of group anxiety. Indeed, the show was entrancing, for with the rising and falling came changes in the colour and quantity of light emitted by each craft. It was a beautiful display, beyond anything any of had ever seen, and it allowed the sense of awe and occasion to seep into even the most hardened amongst us. The craft became silver once more, and fell quickly almost to the ground. Suddenly, we could all see inside! The windows became clear and the interior lighting was purposely created to most easily reveal the occupants to us. A group of very beautiful blonde haired and exquisitely contoured people were waving at us, calmly, with gentle smiles upon their faces. The crowd were stunned, and before any of us could respond, the craft became silver once more, and shot off straight up. It was obvious to me, and certainly many others, that our behaviour had a direct bearing on how much of an interaction we would have.

    Sunday, May 26th.

    Today was a complete riot and a blowout. The local powers that were had managed to mount a massive disciplinary operation, with police from all over the Peninsula. The popularity of this event, and it's threat to the established, though waning, power base, had finally goaded them into a direct show of force. Many saw the milling crowds, the police sirens and uniforms, and stayed away. There were those vocal supporters that stayed. They shouted at the police, angry that this opportunity for another sighting was passing them by. The police responded with force and arrests. Police tyres were let down. A squad of police in riot gear were brought in. I had to watch from a distance. By the allotted time of 2PM, most of the crowd had dispersed and the police were in ascendance. No craft came that day.

    General Events

    There was turbulence within the society on many fronts. News reports were changing, more honestly reporting on events and our common future. The supporters of the old systems were more and more marginalised. Many were still shouting, but no longer from council halls or on TV, or talk back programs. Now they were shouting from the sidewalks. And few were listening. Hope and anxiety were constant partners in the minds of all. Police were talking with the progressive groups, setting up an understanding and chains of communication, that would no longer see a repeat of the farce that occurred on the 26th. Messages came in that the craft would not appear on June 2nd, though I still went up there and kept a vigil all day. There were only a handful of us, and the conversations amongst us were enlightening and invigorating. The world as we knew it was changing before our eyes on a daily basis, yet the mood generally remained positive, buoyant. Some would call it euphoria as the old systems died and new ideas, new ways of thinking and acting, made their debut. The skies remained clear of craft all day.

    Sunday, June 16th, Red Hill football oval.

    Today we made contact. This day will go down in history. Everything went to plan, like a well oiled machine. The police were manning the fences, there were food stalls and designated parking and parking attendants.. everything was well planned and we were well prepared, showing a united front to the visitors. They came today, descended in their glowing craft. They landed, and after a few moments, the hatches opened and they gracefully stepped out, waving and bowing, faces of serenity and calm that radiated peace and goodwill. The crowd was awed, the police were well drilled. First to make contact was Esme, the leader of the local UFO group, and a gifted psychic whose messages brought us all together on that first Sunday. It was so sweet how she fumbled with the hands of the Firstcomer, a handsome, tall blonde man with features chiselled in bronze. We were all willing her forward, living through her as she mumbled her first words to him. He held her hand, and with grace and a quiet dignity, bowed before her. His voice, deep and resonant, reassured her, in perfect English. After the exchange, Esme, still holding his hand, turned towards the police superintendant, tears streaming down her face. He gave an order, the force stepped aside, and we the people, gradually began to tentatively step towards the craft.

    I am speechless. Can one experience beauty as a feeling? Tenderness, grace, a welling up of all that is good. What happend? I am back at my car, key poised by the lock, and reflecting upon what just transpired. I shook hands with her! Eyora, from the Pleiades. I shook her hand, and looked into her deep blue eyes, and all the questions I had for her, for them, faded into insignificance. The most important moment of my life until now had come and passed and I was left euphoric. I turned back towards the oval and the now dispersing crowd, attempting to regain a field of reference. My glowing heart formed a counterpoint to the once again mundane scenery. The intangible had become tangible. My invisible dream had walked before me, and shook my hand.

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  3. Link to Post #122
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    I am speechless too! Thanks TE.

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  5. Link to Post #123
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    I remember the day when I took to the sky. That beautiful day when mother and I flew together for the very first time. I remember it as clearly as our previous lives or as the unfurling of today’s morning lilies by the house, pale and true, pouring themselves into the northern air. We had wandered together, just her and I, past the neighbours’ vegetable yards, down the woodland paths, beneath the oaks outstretching, and across the silken trails of the heathers. It was a perfect summer’s day and the weather had warmed the soles of our feet. We sat down by the clear sparkling of the water drenched with the colour of the wide blue skies. Mother began to feel it, the water of the river, its crystal waves lapping at the cells of her skin from a distance. Then I could feel it too. The sun was streaming through the trees, in through my eye into the core of our bodies. The ground was alive with the gentlest hum, tuning our bodies to the greens of its deep rhythm. As mother looked into my eyes I could feel nothing but the purest ringing of her heart; her heart was filled with the two of us, with the stars of our births and the spinning of our divine mother earth. Everything was so deeply alive, the birds, the grasses, all the insects and the trees; a part of us and of a world worth living for. Its radiance, its perfection, began to swell in our hearts like a reign of harmonies; a symphony of bliss, swimming in our molecules, unveiling a wider connection to the cosmos. It was vast and it was delicate, with its wish to flow through us. We let it and we knew. We began to feel lighter and lighter, more and more unified with the pulse of everything around us. Then, we imagined it, we saw ourselves lifted, and rose into the air. Just two feathers gliding on invisible winds - ones that stirred inside of us, rather than along the edges of the trees or their witnessing leaves. A light was formed between the two of us that became stronger as we flew. We set it free to fill the garden, felt it seep into the fabric of the air, pulsing in the ether, waiting, with love, to strum the hidden strings of someone else’s dream. I remember that moment. I will remember it always.

    I love my mother and father, and in their love am free. I was born through their love, and theirs is born again frequently as I breathe myself, further and more fully, into their lives. Now I fly with my own daughter, the way that I was shown that day. Many centuries ago there was a world, a world that we learned from, where these things were thought impossible. So think we did, almost daily, of how these things were not ours, but theirs (whoever they may be), or simply a sweet but childhood breeze of myths. But now we no longer consign these things to the domain of some other, a terrain unfit or unfathomable for us. And we are not afraid of the shadows, because we know they are a part of us; a fleeting flowing part of our earliest dream. As we learned to walk. As we became familiar with the power and language of our thoughts. Now we are neither chained to nor mesmerised by mirrors or the worlds beyond them. We do not clash or burn or strain, because we do not choose to remember ourselves as pain, or as ash or an endless yearning.

    We owe a debt to our ancestors. They learned this for us, and perhaps, you could say, we learned it as them. So we pay them daily, by living the dream they reached for as they called our names. By embracing each moment in our hearts with a smile. It is our deep, deep gratitude that we live; it makes circles in our breath and sings in our veins. Debt, as a word, used to be a weight. But it has been transformed, reborn into a channel of our deep respect for life. We pay it daily and with thanks, by honouring the gifts we carry; by creating heaven for one another the way our ancestors dreamed; the life made possible by the road they laid through wearing out their bones. But the reason it is, the reason it became, is because in all the tears and the blame and the vales of hope, enough of them, silently, took the dream into their hearts, and the fuel that made it come to pass was lit like a flame.

    May 2013 be blessed - a year for more dreamers to sew the loving seeds of their visions.

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    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    I knew that you had that in you, Melinda. All I can say is "More!"

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  9. Link to Post #125
    Avalon Member TelosianEmbrace's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    That was beautiful, Melinda. I must admit, I read it out aloud to myself because it flowed so smoothly and felt so good to vocalise. I'll echo Wade here, and ask for more, if you have any.

    If there is anyone else who feels shy in sharing their dreams and visions of a future Earth, then don't be. You're amongst friends and companions along the Way.

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  11. Link to Post #126
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    One week later.

    The one thing a null-field generator can’t nullify is it’s own field. Well, it can but then it would have to be in the generated field and disappear into the void it creates forever and without a trace. So I flip the switch and a slight tingling along my spine is the only evidence the generator is working; it has no moving parts, and emits no noise, hum, hiss, pop or whir - nothing.

    The best evidence I get is the materialization of six fully armed soldiers in my room with rifles aimed at my chest. There’s no refuting this thing works, I think after thinking, wtf! They just stand there threateningly and I stand there frozen in both terror and disbelief.

    Less than thirty second response time! I must have been being surveilled all along. Or the device must have been. That sounds right. Somehow this device is constantly monitored and response teams are constantly prepared to respond. The cost of such an operation can only be justified in one of two ways: someone (or some group) has a very whole lot to loose if this technology gets out to justify this high state of preparedness for a single such incident or the above group (or someone) is besieged by many such devices thus rendering the cost of such ultra security economically viable. Either way, someone or some vested interest has a mighty whole lot to loose.

    My musing is interrupted by another sudden appearance of a man in my room, bringing the total to seven. This man is not armed but it is immediately obvious he is in charge. The other six step one step back without lowering their weapons and the boss steps forward, empty hands palms up and slightly raised.

    Innocent, my tucuss, I think before deciding what I would do next. The man approaches, smiling serenely. Okay, like I’m going to trust you, I think.

    There is a dial of sorts on the machine that has been locked in place by a thumbscrew knob, sort of like a dial in a dial. Hold one dial stationary and turn the other one way it locks the knob in place. I am already standing by the machine so my fingertips are mere inches from the dial. I barely need to move and one finger is wedged under one dial keeping it steady while the rest of my fingers grip the thumbscrew. I turn it the other way, releasing the knob.

    The smile turns to a frown and then downright fear. The boss stops his approach, back pedaling awkwardly. Leaving no room for dignity, he hastily retreats to the safety of his ranks. He gives a hand signal to open fire, I presume.

    I do not wait to find out. I turn the dial, repositioning the field that was purposely aligned askew so as not to include the generator, to include the generator. I think they opened fire on me but I’m not sure. Suddenly I have much more pressing issues to attend to and cannot delve into the last instant in my room and whether I heard gunfire or not, before blinking out of existence.

    The thing with a null field is that it creates essentially null space. Now, null space is rather odd in its proclivity to having nothing in it except that which is contained in its field the moment it was turned on. Usually this would include a room full of air, in a stationary field. But the moment the field begins to move it erases itself as it moves along, erasing whatever the original field contained by degrees on the dial. Turn the knob ninety degrees and the field will contain nothing, including no air.

    I cranked that dial in my burning haste to escape imminent and irreversible lead poisoning. The next moment the field enveloped me.

    Now I am gasping in spasms and convulsions trying to breath the non-existent air. All around me is complete and utter darkness and/or silence. I cling to the machine as if to a lifeline. I try to calm myself but my adrenaline drenched body wants air badly. I hold on another five seconds before flipping the on/off switch.

    Another oddity of a null field vector is its peculiar relationship to traditional four-dimensional space/time. That is to say it hasn’t any, relationship, that is. A static field is fine as its vector remains locked to the 4D vector at the moment of its inception. Its vector is the vector of its source, the 4D field. But move the null field and the vector relationship is shattered.

    The frigid air whooshes into my depleted lungs and feels like small hypodermic daggers deep inside my airways. The rapidly passing air makes me look towards its source that is also rapidly approaching. I realize I’m free-falling at about one thousand feet above a craggy mountaintop without a parachute!

    I flip the switch back on then move the field by turning the dial to hopefully create a better trajectory back into my world. I turn it off again.

    This time there’s mountains all around me and I am about to slam into the side of one of them.

    I flip the switch again, fiddle with the dial a bit, wait, then turn it off. No mountains this time but lots of water, all around me. I flip the switch again. Wait. Then turn off the machine. This time I come into the world at a better angle and luckily only skim off the surface of the ocean at high speed.

    I bounce and tumble like sneakers in the dryer, until I finally came to rest in ankle deep water with the machine on my chest still intact. I get up sputtering and coughing, not yet able to fully comprehend the gravity of my recent ride through null space and what could have been the outcome nor yet cognizant of the very real need to express my relief that it is over.

    I shuffle up the pristine beach until I encounter a native. And native she was, in a grass skirt and nothing covering her above the waist.

    “Is there a telephone around here?” I ask her.

    She just smiles at me innocently. Suddenly the sky turns, my knees buckle and I taste sand in my mouth. Ah rest, I think, great idea. My last thought is how a coconut cut in half and a little string could so ease my embarrassment for her.

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  13. Link to Post #127
    Ilie Pandia

    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Hi Ernie,

    You machine needs more work it seems

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  15. Link to Post #128
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    An hour later...

    A cool breeze is blowing and the midday sun is sparkling off the rippling water of the small bay. Thankfully, only a few native children frolic in ankle-deep water. There is a subtle shade of quiet that permeates the atmosphere of this place hard to define in words. It has an overall peaceful and calming effect, I decide.

    I slowly stand, testing my body for any evidence of injury. Nothing serious - a few aches and pains. I’ve got some sand in my shorts that are chaffing parts unmentionable and there’s grit in my spit.

    The box is a bit worse for wear but looks serviceable, although in all honesty I have no real evidence that indicates whether it would still work or not, short of turning it on and testing it. I’m not very eager to do that right away.

    I walk along the higher portion of the beach until I find a path leading inland. The trees are tropical species with dense fern cover underneath. Animals scurry unseen under cover of the copious foliage. Colorful birds flitter about and grace the branches of the trees here and there.

    Where is everybody, I wonder. I work my way up a rise in the path and around a bend. I spot an outcrop of rock adjoined by an offshoot of the path that rises out of the treetops. I follow the path as it switches back and forth up the side of the outcrop. The panoramic view from the top is well worth the climb.

    From the lookout I can now see that I am on a small but lush island in a chain of islands that dot the ocean to the horizon. There is a hint of a larger landmass just beyond but I cannot be certain.

    In the middle of the island is a collection of huts of various sizes. I decide to head that way.

    Just then a voice speaks, “Naw, you won’t find what you are looking for there.”

    “Who said that?” I ask while turning about, seeking the source of the voice.

    “For now, you’ll just have to go with the sound of my voice. It’s for the best.”

    “The best what? Where are you?”

    “The best way to acclimate you without undue stress or turmoil. I am somewhere else but there from afar, if that makes any sense to you.”

    “What do you want, then?”

    “I only want to talk to you, that’s all. You can decide what else I can do for you after that, okay?”

    “Alright.” What else am I going to say?

    “We brought you here by a great stroke of luck. They were almost locked onto you when we managed to alter your trajectory enough to land you here. We beat them by milliseconds!”

    “You brought me here?” I ask dubiously. After all, I was the one fiddling with the controls of the null field generator during the ride.

    “Do you know how close you came to being lost forever? Your archaic machine lacks any fail-safes at all. It can only create the field but has no control over location, position or velocity. On your own, just randomly dialing in vectors as you did, your chances of reorienting the null field with your correct dimension and time/space coordinates were virtually zero. It was only because we - and they, were tracking you that you are still alive and close enough to your own time to make a single jump back.”

    “This is not my own dimension?”

    “No. It is a parallel time track used mostly for the staging and testing of various realities. It is like a virtual reality where various alternate scenarios can be played out without the usual risk of devastation to life in the real worlds. It is like a playground for the gods. Or a more apt way of putting it would be to say that this is where entities practice and learn to be gods.”

    “But that is not what I wish to convey to you, although it is a part of it. You and your world are having a bad time of it right now. Knowledge has been purposely withheld. Truth is interwoven with falsehood rendering your understandings insignificant and virtually useless. You grasp at anything with even a shred of truth to it. And this divides you and makes you ineffective. Even your foundation, the very thing that gives you life, is suspect at best. Nothing can be proven beyond doubt and so doubt is your unnatural but accustomed state. This is untenable if you wish to be free.”

    “So what do you intend to do about it?” I ask, feeling a bit on the defensive.

    “In your world right now attention is focused on the awareness of the terrible stranglehold an evil elite has on all your institutions. You are all being made aware of forces you cannot hope to overcome without horrible cost. And instead of galvanizing your resolve it has frozen you to the spot.”

    “Not sure I’m following you here. First you say we live in doubt, which means most of us doubt what you have just stated. So we are not galvanized or frozen - we are unconvinced.”

    “Unconvinced, you say! Ha! Who amongst you would agree that the death of twenty thousand children from malnutrition every day is unconvincingly atrocious? Who can justify the bombing of a school or a hospital as acceptable collateral damage? Who can claim the bilking of millions to the tune of billions nets three years in jail but growing twenty marijuana plants in your basement nets you eighty-five years is fair? How can 51% of only 60% of eligible voters be considered a majority vote and a landslide victory?

    No, you are all convinced. But you pick and choose your convictions, just as if you were shopping for some knickknack of no significance for no real purpose.

    What you do do is uphold your paltry sum of convictions and deny the rest - which is the vast majority. You build a little box, get inside it, fasten on a secure lid and insist that is the real world, with nothing at all laying beyond and outside of that box.”

    “True. I would venture to say. But even so, what is your point?”

    “That there is a side to this entire scenario left unnoticed for the most part. Wanna know what that is?”

    “Sure. What?” I ask, curious.

    “That there is another side to the equation. It is the evil side that claims all power. It is the evil side that propagandizes their control of the world. It is the evil side that enslaves and wrests influence from the unwary. It is this evil side that propagates doom and gloom both real and imagined.

    Yet if they were unopposed they would not have to claim or convince they would just be all-powerful and in control. So, there must be another side in opposition to this evil because the elite on your world do not in fact have all power and are not in complete control. That is only a ruse that they use to great effect.

    There is the side of good and it is as real as and an equal to the other more famous side. This side saved you today from certain death, of one form or another. This side balances the equation. There are good men and women in every corner of your world dutifully upholding the tenets of righteousness. Do not be unconvinced about this, my friend. The time of truth is soon upon us. For now is the time of unveiling, and the lifting of the veil yields the truth.

    And there is a price, it cannot be averted for you fixed its value. The price will be paid and the value realized. That is the lifting of the final veil.

    Then there will be truth.”

    “If there is good why do they not make themselves known?” I ask in frustration.

    “There is good, rest assured. But they do not act as the other side does. They do not plan and connive and secretly scheme. They act with spontaneous and synchronistic focus, and fully from the heart. There is no ego consideration and the only vested interest is what is right and just and fair. The true good does not organize for knowing what is right is to be organized - and integrated. There is maximal power in integration.

    The good do not advertise. They are known by those who know. Doubt is for the other side, the harbinger of fear. The good love. For to love is to be free. And to be free is to be sovereign. That consideration is where the power of right derives. And the power of right or righteousness, is justice. Thus righteousness is the natural condition of the free.”

    This is a strange conversation, talking to a disembodied voice as I am. I decide to test it.
    “Okay, I get it. We are not free and so we are in doubt. We have forgotten how to be sovereign or what that even means. And we overlook righteousness. So we are part of the problem. The war is over the hearts and minds of the people, and we are loosing.

    Right now all I want to know is, can you help get me back to my neck of the woods or not?”

    “Certainly. Give us a moment...Okay. Just turn your machine on and we’ll do the rest from here.”

    “Thanks. Am I ever going to be able to meet you in person?” I ask as my finger hovers above the machine’s ON button.

    “Probably sooner than you think, hehe.” ?

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    “You’ll find out soon enough. Now go ahead, flip the switch.”

    “Okay, here goes!” I say as I turn on the machine, the NFG - null-field generator.

    This second ride through null space is far less stressful. I feel a slight tingling along my scalp and bingo, the ride is over.

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    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Twenty one months later.

    The sirens are getting louder now.

    Soon the tanks and armored troop carriers would come into view. They were not there for me but I know it is best to not be seen just the same. One of those nasty Foreign Economic Development Areas was experiencing a bit of ideological envy of their neighbors beyond the razor wire. The dissidents fanning the flames of discontent were about to learn how long their freedom of speech would be tolerated when it interfered with the corporate bottom line. Still, I wish I had anticipated that when I chose this site for my base. I thought the presence of authority would keep prying eyes at bay. I hadn’t thought of this scenario, though. I duck my head as the column rounds the bend in the road. The flashing lights and the shrieking siren precede the convoy on top of a jeep.

    The tanks rumble by, squeaking, throwing up dust and clumps of asphalt.

    Not that there is that much to see and not like it looks suspicious in the least. A shack, really just a jumble of hardwood pallets and some corrugated tin sheeting, an area covered by a plastic tarp, some homesteading nick-knacks, a bit of rope, a plastic barrel, a fire pit - another pit a ways off. Nothing to see here folks, on your way then.

    Money was getting tighter for states and provinces, not just their nations. Cities were forced to severely cut back services to the point that when the infrastructure broke down it was often neglected or simply never repaired again. But when bodies began being left in the streets and crimes were not investigated, depending on your affluence of course, people realized it was not safe to stay any more. A few of the most daring ventured forth at that point.

    Where to go but back to the land, beyond the suburbs to the open fields and untouched forests, to farm and to forage and hunt. The locals didn’t take to that much and soon squabbles turned to murder and worse. The army was brought in to keep the peace citing various emergency power act sections, all very legal-like. Soon their powers extended and peace was no longer their primary concern it seemed. Until now they daily cruise the streets of their own cities causing fear, massive damage and inciting escalating acts of defiance. That’s when the people scurried out of the cities like rats from a sinking ship.

    But the land, they found, was already taken, the forests combed over and the game all long gone. Many perished. Some managed to stake squatters rights and hold on to their claims. Some continued further afield into the areas not considered prime. Many more perished. The rest turned back, back to the cities and the only lives they had ever known.

    Still, the vast majority did not leave the cities and more than half of those perished in those awful eighteen months. Many of those who found a way to survive came together and pooled their resources and talents. Some of those created incredible innovations in technology. The government then as now, keeps a persistent watch on all illegal high-tech devices and slams the lid down hard whenever one is discovered in the public domain. We are not allowed the use of the very technologies that can save the planet and the huddling masses. Just recently a new law was passed with a penalty of ten years in jail for the possession of any device deemed exotic by the administration.

    My rambling mind finally winds down as the tanks and their cloud of doom pass.

    Back to business, I decide. I turn on my laptop and load the system program.

    The null field is annoying in two very crucial ways. One is it’s tendency to drift out of vector lock and the other is the question of just what it is, this null field. The two points seem to be related in some fashion.

    The pulsed aspect ratio of the field’s frequency versus its time graph clearly indicates anomalous vectors. These vectors attract or repel, at random it seems, the main field vector causing it to drift out of lock step with its source vector. Although annoying, this first factor has some interesting applications like tunneling, stable floating platforms, propulsion and of course energy generation. The whole idea of the pulsed null field generator is that it constantly and very rapidly turns the field on and off, thereby repeatedly reacquiring the original source vector and correcting the accumulated drift. Unfortunately that switching is detectable for various reasons.

    I didn’t have a pulsed field generator so accumulated drift was a big problem until I understood the dynamic sufficiently. The drift is caused by other vectors that are created by the main field itself. Like magnetic fields induced by flowing currents of electricity the null field induced the production of additional fields too. In my studies over the last year I found these induced fields came in twos and the main null field sat in a sort of loose pocket between these two. The drifting was a result of the looseness of this pocket. I learned how to tighten it. Not only that but I learned how to adjust that tightness to accomplish certain goals like levitation and propulsion - oh, and electrical generation, of course.

    But my current trouble concerns the second annoying aspect of the null field - just what is it? For instance, why does the null field generate two counter fields at all? Wouldn’t it be more logical if the two counter fields produce the main field and what the generator did was create the conditions for the manifestation of those counter fields? That would make the null field a secondary effect. The counter fields are not in this four dimensional reality but must orient themselves to it so that the null field can then bridge the dimensional gap. And since it acts like the counter magnetic fields of electrical current why should it not be that same thing but displaying another aspect of itself. The recent prevalence of the electrical universe theory is not lost on me. This seems to be another instance of its proof as the theory of choice and testament to its comprehensive scope.

    Still, that does not explain its properties. The null field is fundamentally a two dimensional construct sweeping out a three dimensional volume, like the surface of a sphere. The sphere is the volume of the null field but the null field is the membrane that separates that space from normal everyday space. This membrane is also referred to in regards to other seemingly unrelated topics too numerous to mention here but the cleaving angles of crystals, certain radio-active decay types, a number of electronic phenomena like electron tunneling and super-conductivity, and various isolated areas where the connection is less certain or obvious like catalysts, energy conversion, electrolysis, fusion and even the experiences of astral travel and the attainment of enlightenment are a few examples.

    The idea of the membrane evokes the possibility of force fields and that is my goal.

    Today I test a new configuration that my simulations have shown holds a great deal of promise. The details of the experiment are quite sophisticated. It is a combination of pulsed field technology and null field vector orientation accomplished in real time at astonishingly high frequencies and with a precision only a super fast computer can handle . Of course this is my fifth attempt and each of the others were equally promising at the time and in their own right.

    I enter my ramshackle shack and push aside my cot. Under it is a rug and under that is a trap door. I lift it up and it reveals a set of wooden steps leading into the gloom below. The stairs lead down ten feet to a floor as smooth as glass, just like the walls and ceiling. I walk along this corridor about thirty feet to another set of stairs, which I descend. Twenty feet deeper down and beyond a short corridor is an artificial chamber perfectly circular except for the floor perhaps forty feet in diameter. It is also composed of fused rock with very smooth floor, walls and ceiling. All of this underground facility was excavated using the null field generator in tunneling mode.

    In the middle of the otherwise empty chamber was my makeshift lab. Electronics of all sorts lay strewn about on tables and wires of every color and thickness ran between them like the roots of some exotic tree.

    I walk over to the control console and am about to begin the experiment when a being walks out from behind a wall of electronics. He looks human, but not quite right.

    “Is this an alien?”, I ask myself.

    “Told you we would meet soon enough.” He began, coming up to me with hand outstretched in welcome (from a rather spindly arm with an elbow that bent the wrong way!).

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  19. Link to Post #130
    Avalon Member TelosianEmbrace's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Through my window I could see over the stepped flower beds to the babbling brook and the small, green and rolling hills beyond. To my left were other dwellings, pleasantly nestled against the cliff face, each picturesque and homogenous with the greater vista. I could make out the common paved area, made of a pearlescent substance that drew the eye with its ever-changing visage. Upon this the local citizens walked, going about their day to day lives. They were always laughing and smiling with each other, voicing hearty greetings to others passing by. Everyone knew everyone else by name, and everyone seemed perfectly happy. There were a handful of children, though most looked an incredibly healthy and radiant 30 years of age. On a rare occasion I would spot an Elder. The Elders had the same look of a thirty year old, but there was an added depth to their skin, a translucence, if you will. And a face, that though happy, hinted at witnessing and experiencing events and ages of a vast antiquity, long since passed. I have been here in Mailegna, an underground city of the realm of Agharta, for three days.

    The times of travail are passing from memory, and though I cringe at the remembrance, I feel I should share with you what has transpired on the Earth plane. February 2014 and it was all business as usual. The banksters were staving off the collapse of the EU, and Obama had announced a Trans-American Union made up of Mexico, the greater USA, and Canada. There was much turmoil, and we in Australia and other parts of the globe looked on in dismay, sensing the global power shifting on a daily basis. But what was happening to the Earth left these changes in the shade, for out of the Pacific was arising a new continent. Many called her the New Lemuria, and the doubters of so much had fallen silent and grown in anxiety. Each week the continent rose and rose below the waves, and islands like the Solomons became the higher ground of a greater and barren landscape. The currents of the oceans were changing, moving towards a still distant equilibrium. All over the planet, the sea rose, slowly, constantly, and irrevocably.

    I lived a few hundred metres from the bay, and was one of the first to undergo forced relocation. Day after day more houses would go under. Arterial roads and infrastructure, electrical, sewerage, and more, were quickly compromised. The news expanded to a two hourly nightly bulletin focused solely on the rapidly crumbling paradigm of our modern society, so large, yet so frail. This was happening all over the world, and low lying coastal cities were inundated within the first two weeks. We watched the news from our relocation centre- a school in the Dandenong Ranges. Countries in Europe like Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg and cities in the TAU like Miami and New Orleans went underwater first. But to highlight one area or group of areas was foolish- the short story was that all coastal cities and lands were rapidly falling beneath the waves. Each country had to look after its own- there was little or no international help offered.

    I remember looking down from a restaurant lookout in the Dandenongs at what was left of Melbourne. Just a handful of the tallest spires remained above the waterline. All that I'd come to know as real and permanent was there, beneath the water. The thriving nightlife, the vast metropolis of money and power, lying broken beneath me. I felt the chaos of these times, and the underlying and unmistakeable shift of mass consciousness towards some new and unimaginable state. I fared a whole lot better in these changes than most. I had moved many times, had little money, and often had to think at the very level of survival. Most people were lamenting the loss of houses and objects that were quickly losing relevance in the new era of struggle and transformation. And so I persisted, and adapted. It wasn't long before a group of us turned from the husk of civilisation past and made our way into the mountains, on foot and with what provisions we could find and carry. Many were lost. The rising water took surprisingly few lives- it was the chaos and unpreparedness, both physical and mental, that took its toll on the population in many different, and sometimes odd, ways. To wallow in the old was to die, and to stay still in the jungle, was to die. And so our small band moved away, and into the forests and mountains of the Great Dividing Range.

    The group dynamics of our party changed rapidly. For the first few days a doctor had taken the leadership role, but his pull faded as he found himself struggling to keep up with us. For common survival skills Bruce and I were called upon, but for the most important role- goal setting- we turned more and more to the quietly spoken middle aged psychic woman who was physically faring a lot better than some of the younger ones. What was our goal? What was our purpose? As the days passed and we slipped into some sort of a routine, the goal of our trek became clear. It wasn't just the physical world that had changed, but with the passing of our once mighty civilisation, the Earth had become lighter, and we were all more in tune with levels of awareness once denied us. Each of us, to some level, heard telepathic communications from an advanced group of beings, and these consoled us and motivated us. We would stay up for hours each night discussing the clarity and content of the messages each of us received during the day. Another ability we gained was being able to perceive the territory around us, as though we were flying above it. Anny was the first to mention this, and over the next few days each of us gained this ability. With this, we were able to sense the energy level of nearby areas, and this gave us the heart to believe that we would be able to find some sort of portal, some sort of gateway, to the Aghartan realm.

    As our supplies ran out, we turned more and more to hunting and foraging. Many experimental grasses, herbs and berries were spat out at once, but some became our staples. It was a traumatic time in that we never knew when we would encounter others, and what their motivation would be. So we kept off the roads as much as we could, and out of the cleared farmlands. A window was perceived as opening to us in the distance, and each of us had a vision of a cliff face by a river, and a doorway in the rock. More and more we would pray together and meditate together at night, to clarify our visions. We lost a handful of people, some old, and one or two of the younger ones. It just happened, and there was nothing we could do about it. Some very difficult decisions were made about life and death, and those moments were burned into my memory. I do not wish to repeat them here. I run over them over and over in my mind, wondering how they could have turned out differently.

    The last few days before gaining the portal were the hardest. The most profound dilemma was our faith in the shared vision, vacillating between bright hope and forlorn despair. Would we make it? Would there truly be a way through? Or would we find just a cliff face by a flowing river.

    I am here now, as are most of the others, though some have been taken in at more distant Aghartan cities. My free will choice, which has been honoured by the Elders, is simply to remain within this conscious, alive and invigorating dwelling for as long as I need, until I feel ready to step out. My meals are provided for me, luscious, vegetarian, and radiantly healthy! I sleep deeply every night, and wake with vivid and uplifting visions of myself, and of my future. Then I come and sit by the window, and all day, simply watch the world go by, watch time pass in the most beautiful of ways. Everything outside of that window is new to me, and I am soaking it up like a parched man drinking life giving water. And yes, I am getting younger, healthier, and more aware as the days pleasantly drift by. I am beginning to ask questions of myself and my existence here, and know that one day my curiosity will take me outside that door. But not yet. For here, we all have plenty of time.
    Last edited by TelosianEmbrace; 10th March 2013 at 07:50.

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  21. Link to Post #131
    Scotland Avalon Member Joseph McAree's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    PART 1
    A future Earth

    The Teacher
    The teacher informs the classroom of children, we have a very special visit from Elder Anthony son of Mary, he is one of the five elders who look after the welfare of our Dome City here in the Bathgate Dome, and he carries great responsibility for the safety and welfare of our city. Every year at the start of the New Year he will come and visit us as we begin our journey of learning for the new year and he will talk to us and pass on his wisdom. Can you please put your learning pads away and turn your desks over and give him your undivided attention and best behaviour for he is wise man he will be 150 years old this year and many of you will need his council in years to come.

    The Elder
    Dear children of our future I give you all my love and blessing, I am here today to talk to you about your future and how you should prepare yourself, I only ask that you open your minds and learn from your very wise teacher, please do not underestimate the skills she can teach you over the next 10 years of your young life for this is an extremely crucial time of learning. Many things are going to surprise you but I assure you this will prepare you for the journey that you will choose with your own free will when the time is right. When you are at age of sixteen you will be permitted to make your own choice in life at that stage in your life you can choose to leave this protective city and the responsibilities of your family, whether you choose to stay and continue your learning with us or you choose to leave will be a decision only you can make when that time comes. When and if you choose to leave and join other dome cities or even leave to help build new dome cities, or pursue other interest, this will be the choice we have to prepare you for and that is the reason you are here.

    Life in our Dome cities is a far cry from the life of our ancestors in the way they lived.
    The Dome cities we have all weather climate control atmosphere, it is only possible due to the free energy devices that power this city and allow us to grow the food we need and the supply of fresh water, so if the population works together we can continue to improve and develop our city. The availability of fresh drinking water food and shelter for all, is a far cry of how things used to be for own ancestors. You will learn of the faults they had and the mistakes they made but do not despair as it was meant to be, it was part of our journey in the development of human beings in this planet. The mistakes we made will be unfamiliar to you at this stage of your young lives but your teacher will enlighten you on how it came to be that we live in dome cites.

    So now we live in a life of abundance within the dome but many of our fellow human beings are not as fortunate as ourselves they continue to survive in nature itself, some have chosen this way of life but some do not, we will reach out to those and help our fellow man if they so wish. We will offer them food and shelter of a City Dome if they so desire. The choice will be theirs and theirs alone, for we will always respect the free will of others to live their life the way they want to.

    Today we have just over 30,000 people living under this dome we work with the law of service to others so we have to work together everyone has to play a part in the work we have to do to keep the city maintained, to look after the sick and elderly. Many work in the great food court, many in the food gardens and even the laundry and many times we are often required to help out in other domes,. We continue to build new dome cities as we move further inland. In the past enormous cities have been built on coastal area or the river edges but this was found to be destroying the beaches and contaminating the sea and the fresh water. The dome cities are being built across the world in desserts that would have been impossible for our ancestors to have survived in as well some of the coldest and harshest landscapes on the planet. Most domes are connected by underground tunnel and some of you may have already had journeys on the mono rail connecting us to the nearest four connecting sister cities, or have walked to the nearby cities, we share what we have, as they do with us.

    If you were able fly over the top the dome the outer glass panels are such that they become individual pictures screens so what we do is disguise the dome and create picture that blends in with the local environment around us almost making un invisible The agreement with our fellow earthlings in our new way of life was to return nature to its former glory and to return the land savaged by industrialisation, roads, railways, all of this is being removed and recycled to build the humble dwelling we all live in within the dome.

    We have learned from the mistakes we have made in the past and we will probably make mistakes in the future but now we have the will to take action to resolve the problems that we create, we will endeavour to improve things for you, you our young children of planet earth, our future, as well as for the animals and plants. The forest are being replenishes with a little help from us and you will be taught how to grow plant, herbs, vegetables as part of lessons in the future.

    It is important to understand that every living thing in this planet has consciousness if I explain this as everything has feelings, say for example if you seen someone cutting down a tree and you had the ability to hear the tree talking to you, so the tree is crying as it is being cut down, you would hear it cry with pain, just the same as if you had been pushed to the ground, you would feel the anguish of falling and hurting yourself and you would maybe cry for a short time, the tree cannot get back up and dust itself down it may have been growing there for over a hundred years doing what it does best creating fresh air for us to breath, so tell me why would we want to cut a tree down that is keeping us alive, I will leave that question for you to ponder.

    I will finish of this little chat and tell you that I believe that there is a creator that loves us and is responsible for putting us here on this earth, he has given us all the things we need on this planet along with the all the other planets and stars in this wonderful and beautiful and diverse universe. The earth and everything on it was created by him and everything on earth has this consciousness I spoke about I ask you to respect the planet and everything on it.

    Someday we will have the ability to talk to each other through our minds without moving our lips and with this same skill we will be able to talk to plants and animals the same way, this will be when we have reached a very imported part of our evolution. I thank you for listening to me and now we will meditate for the next ten minutes to reflect on all the things I said today, let us sit in a circle and hold hands and send the love energy to everyone in the room that they live a long and happy life.
    PART 2
    Please visit this site for the truth about FREE ENERGY its called; "A Healed Planet" Owned by Wade Frazier

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  23. Link to Post #132
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Four weeks later.

    It is one of those large recreational vehicles. I outfitted this one with a few options the manufacturer never dreamed of and after a series of test runs felt safe to commission it for regular use. I found it and retrieved it off the old bridge in the nearby city. It was in pristine condition, abandoned by its owner in one of the innumerable pileups during the urban diaspora. The cities could not afford the cleanup and by now very few drove cars anyway. They were simply too expensive to drive and maintain for the average person. Vehicles could be found abandoned all over the place.

    I drove it downtown, slowly, purposefully, against the pressing crowds on main street at lunch time. Not that there is any law against it but the ostentatious depravity of it is screaming bloody murder. The hustle of the urban routine is still evident here, I reminisce but so are the changes. There is the usual well-kempt types of official importance scurrying about but there is also the less well coifed amongst them selling their dilapidated wares, mostly to their own kind. Gone are the bumper to bumper vehicular traffic clogging the arteries of the city. The streets are full of litter now and used mainly as walkways, except for the occasional taxi or limo that toots its way along behind the parting crowd. There are no working stop lights or walk signals but there are innumerable cameras mounted on just about any vertical structure, panning, looking, spying. Armed soldiers in teams of two stand here and there, watching the crowd dispassionately. There are few open stores selling anything but lunch to the crowd. Most look as though they have missed too many lunches in the recent past. Too many look as though they live on these streets permanently. There is a quiet desperation just behind the facade of the roiling masses and their lunch-time regime. It is in the look of too many sleepless and tormented eyes.

    And here I am occasionally honking my horn to move a straggler out of the way of my giant tires as they crunch along the grubby roadway. At just the right moment I flip the switch and the large RV levitates off the ground. It lifts to twenty feet above the crowd’s head and then slowly floats along at a leisurely pace.

    At the next intersection just ahead stands a tank and a squad of soldiers. The army’s presence was not unusual or necessarily threatening but a floating RV would most definitely be investigated, then confiscated and no doubt the driver detained for further questioning. That was the plan anyway and I was about to learn how it all works out in the end.

    I steer the beast towards the tank as it swivels its turret in my direction. The soldiers raise their weapons and one of them shouts into a bullhorn, “Stop! Or we will open fire! Stop your vehicle!”

    By now the crowd has thickened around the RV and many are gawking at it in open amazement. Just for show, I adjust my altitude and the giant trailer jumps fifty feet straight up in a flash. I can see my audience cheering in enthusiasm. I turn the RV in a slow circle while the onlookers below point upward and wave in support.

    A bright flash of light momentarily blinds me and a little shudder runs through the body of the vehicle. At first I can not understand what happened. But after two more flashes and shudders momentarily blanking my senses I realize they have finally decided to use force. My RV has not budged I notice, nor does it seem to be damaged. It floats lazily in place, as solid as if on the ground. I could see the smoke curling up out of the tank’s barrel. I quickly maneuver the RV downward and the people underneath scamper out of the way. The wheels touch down. A mighty cheer goes up from the crowd. It seems they understand the significance of the moment, at least I hope they do.

    The soldier with the megaphone begins, “Turn off your vehicle and step out. You have ten seconds to comply!”

    I sit there looking out my windshield at them, not about to comply.

    The tank opens fire again, lobbing a couple of twenty-pound high explosive shells at me to no avail. A few of the onlookers are hit and the crowd carries them away to safety. The rest draw back out of harm’s way.

    The bullhorn continues, “This is your last warning! We are authorized to use lethal force! Step out of your vehicle now!”

    Just then a helicopter whirls into view between two adjacent skyscrapers. It lands a bit behind the tank and two men dressed in black suits get out. They walk over to the soldiers with badges extended, obviously taking over the scene. One pulls out a fancy looking rifle-like weapon and points it at my ride. The other reveals even a stranger-looking gadget that looks like a cross between a blender and a cross-bow, which he also points at the RV.

    With only the word of an alien who is little more than an acquaintance really, having only worked with him a few weeks, to go on, I cling to my dwindling faith that the force field will hold. I cannot suppress a sudden need to cling tightly to the armrests though, and brace securely for the impact I hope does not happen.

    Their weapons fire simultaneously, one is a beam of coruscating effervescent blue, the other emits a spiraling swatch of power in a rainbow hue. The beams contacted the skin of the RV and sparkled with electricity. I watch the display with apprehension but the dial is not even close to the danger zone. After a moment the men in black cease fire.

    Now it’s my turn. I reluctantly turn on my weapons system. I select the target then toggle my microphone. My exterior speakers amplify my voice, “You, in the tank, get out now! I will open fire on the count of ten, if you are not out by then you will die. I warn you, this is like no weapon you have ever encountered before. I am merely defending myself and my property. I am responding to your threat with equal force. Be warned. I aim to destroy that tank!”

    “Ten.” I begin.

    As my plan is about to culminate in either tragedy or triumph I find myself lost in revelry.

    Rootu, my alien friend, helped me with the math and theory of the zero-point field. Without his input it would have taken me years, decades, to unravel the workings of the field - maybe never. His contribution saved me time but without my initial decision to do this work, he would not even have shown up. He told me so. And he told me that this is how it goes on every planet going through similar growing pains. A few of the bravest, the most brazen, test their convictions against the establishment at great risk to their own lives. If successful, others follow. If not, then that society disintegrates via its own folly to become world-wide dictatorships or it leads to annihilation. He had a lot of influence on my course of action, leading to this present moment. But it was still my choice. There was no coercion.

    The main difficulty in deciphering the field, and the one conundrum I am not sure I would have solved on my own, is the two variants it comes in. Like magnetism and electricity, which are the very same phenomena only oriented differently, the zero point field contains two components, one time dependant, the other space dependant. In the old science, magnetism is the time dependant component, electricity is space dependant. Levitation, propulsion and energy production are time dependant, force fields are space related. That was the key understanding. With this fundamental knowledge it was rather easy to construct the proper components for a working force field.

    Another difficult area was the navigation system. A force field is all well and good, but if more than defense is the goal then you have to have a way of establishing the null-field vector co-ordinates and deriving the co-ordinates for the destination. Until now, I had been physically restricted to line-of-sight maneuvers. Over-the-horizon travel was out of the question.

    Again Rootu came to the rescue. He showed me how to use off-the-shelf navigational software and alter it to my needs. Navigation in today’s world relies on three components, namely the three directions nominally designated as the x,y,z co-ordinates. Rootu showed me how to use four sets of this software to simulate the one remaining missing component - t, the time component.

    I suspected early on that with a little tweaking, this nav system could be used to travel through time. Rootu extracted this one promise from me, to not investigate that area of this advanced science as there were too many disastrous effects possible with even the slightest accident. I agreed although I often wonder how time travel, if done right, could be used to go back in time and stop this corporate/military take-over before it could get started. There are many ways time travel could be implemented to reverse this state of affairs we’ve come to but there were an equal number of catastrophic scenarios imminent with the slightest mistake. In time travel, timing is everything - and it is hard to uncover the best time to travel to in order to affect the correct change.

    With Rootu’s help I was able to construct a force field generator/receiver set and install it on my RV. Two weeks later we were testing it under the protective umbrella of Rootu’s own, much larger, null-field generator. The navigation system was a snap with his help, too. And most of the testing could be accomplished in simulations using Rootu’s super-fast, super-compact, portable computers.

    Rootu did not stay with me during this time. He would, instead, arrive every morning and leave every night. I only managed to talk him into staying one night. We spent that night watching a fire I built and sharing stories about our adventures. We ended up sleeping outside under the stars. It was a great night. Rootu is not human but he is about the most genuine being I have ever met. He has an amazing mind, a refined sense of humor and his convictions are his life. He does not understand guile or sarcasm, these methods of behavior are not in his repertoire. He told me once that the reason he does not stay is because he can be sourced by equipment that can sense his alien biology from great distances. He did have cloaking technologies, and that night he employed a set of clothing designed to dampen his distinctiveness. Also, he claimed he had to report to his superiors every day - and his communications gear were too bulky to transport.

    Rootu left for good the day I set off for the city. He said we might meet again but that he had other missions pressing upon his time. Soon he would have to go back to his home planet to recover. It seems that every race of planetary beings have a certain “signature”, a resonant standing wave of energies and probabilities that must be realigned from time to time by the home planet’s sun. Artificial fields that simulate the unique frequency of any home sun could be fashioned to extend the unhealthy exposure to alien world’s but sooner or later deleterious effects accumulate and adversely affect the body and mind. The only solution is to return to the home planet for some R&R. Rootu was long over due, he claimed, although I saw no signs of physical or mental deterioration.

    By the time my count reaches three, I come out of my revelry. The thought that I would have to kill those in the tank grips my bowels and I break out in a cold sweat. I am determined to see this through but I do not want the guilt of murder on my conscience.


    The hatch on the top of the tank swivels open.


    Three men disgorge from the opening and scurry out of the way.

    “One!” I feel a twinge of embarrassment as my voice cracks and that word seems to reveal my relief that murder is not on the menu after all.

    I toggle the firing mechanism. The tank simply vanishes in a shimmering haze of refracted light - gone to a newly created pocket universe that no one will ever find.

    My work done, my goal accomplished, I set the nav to take me home and flip the switch.

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  25. Link to Post #133
    Ilie Pandia

    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Hopefully it will not come down to a show of force or "kill or be killed" scenario

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  27. Link to Post #134
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Hi Ilie, would I let you down? Of course not, my friend. Still, you gotta crack some eggs to make an omelet. Remember the first few entries? They were a dream about the future, yes? Well then, there must be a happy ending, no? But since you are "telling it like it is" let me do the same.

    This story is exploring one rather likely scenario of how FE for the masses could come about. It is trying to answer the question, "how do we get from here to there?". Notice no one is singing? And, notice how it is one person who swings the tide of public opinion by risking his own skin for his convictions? It's called "trailblazing" and it is the only way advances have ever been accomplished. It is also the only way it will be done in the future.

    The story is almost over now, maybe two or three more entries should do it. This is not the story it was intended to be, but my hand was called and I had to lay it all on the line. So it is what it is, and not what it could have been. I've been forced to do this thinking on my own because Wade did not want "to go there". He has an agenda and he is playing his hand close to his chest. So be it.

    I can also guarantee you that there are already individuals with "the goods" and they have not been discovered by "Gozilla". Godzilla is not God, and some things slip under his radar. If these individuals had moral integrity they would already have demonstrated their devices in such a way that it would be impossible to ignore - or to stop. I am intending to show how such a person (with moral integrity) would go about the business of disclosure. Sometimes words are not enough, or songs - sometimes you just got to go in there and get your hands dirty.

    This is one of those times.
    Last edited by Ernie Nemeth; 1st April 2013 at 18:16.

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  29. Link to Post #135
    Ilie Pandia

    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Hi Ernie,

    I think I get your point... There is only one bit I'd change in your story (or I would do different if I were the main character). After the force field did withstand the hit I would do one of the two things:

    - pulse to disable the projectile (and energy weapons) on site
    - zip outta there!

    With my current "mind" and understanding of things I cannot imagine myself killing anyone or consider it... (But I have not been pushed to my limit so I don't really know how I would react until faced with the decision).

    But the show of force would have been enough to say: "you're obsolete guys... time to pack and go else where!"... no? Why the death threat?

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  31. Link to Post #136
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Death threat? If someone restricts your movements by threatening your safety and then fires on you without provocation then it is within your rights to protect yourself with the same level of threat. No one needed to die, and no did, thank God. But remember they were quite alright with killing the main character.

    Why is it alright for them but not alright for us to use force?

    Beyond all of that, the point wasn't who can kill who but that they could not kill him no matter what they tried. That is the whole point of these exotic technologies: it places everybody on a level playing field - a real level playing field, not like the one they preach to us we have in this society.

    Bottom line: when FE arrives no one will be in a position to dictate anything to anybody else because there will be no threat that can be enforced. Today, in our world, we have the authorities who have guns to back up their decrees. In the new world, guns, bombs and "shock and awe campaigns" will be rendered obsolete.

    As an aside, I bet you that you are capable of killing, if presented with the right situation. What if your loved ones were under threat and you could only save their lives by dispatching the bad guy. Would even a single thought of not doing it enter your mind? Maybe I'm wrong, maybe hesitation might prove to be disasterous and there would be no time to do anything after the moment is gone. I don't know.

    In the story, the guy has chosen to display this technology in such a way that it cannot be denied, ignored or misconstrued as a fake. That required a certain chain of events to transpire in a certain order, with one move dictating the next. He was already decided upon his course of action before he arrived at the city center. There was no turning back if he wanted to show all the capabilities of his technology. He already knew he might have to kill to make his point. He got lucky - which again is something that just happens when one is aligned with the highest good.

    Hope that explains it enough. It took me six weeks to figure out this last entry, a lot of thought went into it. But, I am only one man and I often overlook details as I am a generalist who focusses on the biggest picture. The details some one else must look out for. So thanks for the input, dude.

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    Scotland Avalon Member Joseph McAree's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth


    I think is the very nature of human beings, is fight or flight but sometimes if you or your family are threatened that you hit back with equal force, Yes I know I have violence in me I have to admit that but I have been able to control it thank goodness. I was raised in a very tough area in Glasgow, you have to stand up for yourself or your life and that of your family would be hellish. There are times when you need to show your teeth and if you have given fair warning well they are given their chance.

    Great stories you keep doing it your way as I am sure you will,, I wish I had your writing skills, I really love the diversity of the Avalon Forum members, I am going on holiday in a couple of weeks and I leave the mobile and the computer at home. I try not to watch any television for the two weeks. I look forward to going away but I also look forward to my return and catching up with the family and the forum

    kindest regards
    Please visit this site for the truth about FREE ENERGY its called; "A Healed Planet" Owned by Wade Frazier

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  35. Link to Post #138
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    One month later.

    Data core analysis complete. System parameters reset. Searching...

    Corruption in memory location A1600D67 through DC5672FF, memory core FDAC4599. Source unknown. Attempting reconfiguration. Please stand by.

    Normalization failed. Extracting corrupted files. Files removed. Reconfiguring...

    Cannot reconfigure...reloading data components...this may take some time...

    “What the hell is going on?”

    “No idea, sir.”

    “How long before the system stabilizes?”

    “The techs say it might take days.”

    “How did this happen?”

    “No one knows for sure, sir. When the surge hit it blew out our safeguards. We had never anticipated such a magnitude of power in an attack. But our safety systems were never designed to protect against anything except conventional strikes. Even a nuclear strike would not have affected the system. These exotic technologies were not expected. We all thought they were well in hand. No one thought the citizenry could develop such weaponry without being detected by our sensors.”

    “What happens now?”

    “Well, that depends on the enemy’s intentions, sir.”

    “How so?”

    “If this is a concerted attack they could very well destroy us - if they act quickly enough. We have no means to co-ordinate a response without our AI interface. As you know, we rely on Deep Thought to crunch the numbers for us. Without it we cannot decipher the tera-quads of data in real time. We would in effect be reacting on limited input.”

    “What can we do, then?”

    “Wait - and hope for the best.”


    “Yes sir.”

    I look over the edge of my floating platform to the city far below me. So far no one has responded to my invitation. Nothing but inertia and habit keeps them from joining me now but I know that can be just as debilitating as a direct threat.

    They do not have much time left before repairs are completed and the clampdown begins. Once that happens, woe-is-be to us all.

    After two weeks of demonstrating the viability of this new technology in a dozen cities throughout the world I had gone into hiding to complete the design of this floating flagship. It is nothing more than some steel, plastic, wood and iron cobbled together with spot welds and wire and rope. The force fields and anti-grav pods do the rest. It floats here now, above what once was called Los Angeles taunting the authorities and hopefully stirring the populace into action. They had tried a few times to attack this structure but my defenses proved too much for them. Rootu had done his job to great effect.

    I had heard rumors of other citizens who had constructed similar machines to my modified RV in various cities throughout the world but so far I had not seen anyone else with the goods. Instead of trying to search for them I decided upon this approach. I decided to let them find me - so far to no avail.

    There had been some casualties on both sides and I would have to live with that. I could only hope it would be worth the sacrifice in the end. Those in power were not about to give up without a fight and the bravest of the citizens risked their lives for a future none of us could yet even barely imagine.

    There was a group of us now. I had provided sanctuary to a few from every city I visited. They provided me with intelligence on their particular resistance cells and these we contacted, shared this technology and informed them of our plan to build the first ever floating city. I could only hope the information had spread far and wide. Now I counted on the resilience of the human spirit and the resourcefulness of a citizenry pushed to the brink of tolerance.

    Gazing downward I see a speck that might be anything - a bird, a plane, a trick of the light. The speck grows in dimension as it gains altitude. At first I think it might be yet another rocket or some other weapon designed to bring me down. As it closes the gap its shape becomes more discernable and I realize that this is not an attack after all. Instead, it becomes evident that it is a modified vehicle. As it comes ever closer more details sharpen and I see it is just a small compact car with a bunch of wires and gadgets haphazardly jumbled about its exterior.

    The little car rises up until it is level with the platform. Through the windscreen I can see that the car is jammed with people, all wide-eyed and cheering! They wave to me and I wave back. I raise one finger to indicate they must wait a moment.

    I enter my RV and dial in a command to lower the shields protecting the platform. I jump back down, out of the RV, onto the platform and raise a thumbs-up signal to indicate it is safe to land. The hodgepodge of cables and components flash in a scintillating rainbow of light around the small car as the operator directs the vehicle towards the awaiting platform. It lands and disgorges its occupants.

    The leader and driver of the car approaches with a giant smile on his face. Six others follow him all grinning like mad-men. Of all the people I expect to see, I did not expect him.

    “Quite the contraption you’ve built here, my friend,” he says, smiling and extending his hand in greeting.

    “Holy smokes, Proctor! How’s it going?” I shake his hand with unrestrained relish

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  37. Link to Post #139
    Canada Avalon Member Ernie Nemeth's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth

    Three minutes later.

    “Amazing how any material can become so stabile with these grav pods supporting them. It might as well be constructed of some exotic diamond filament or other such extremely strong material.” Proctor kicks at a wooden pallet underneath his feet. The skyscrapers of Los Angeles far below can be seen between the planks.

    Long past my normal naivety, I eye the strangers behind him, trying to gauge their intent. One immediately strikes me as suspect. There is nothing physical that gives him away, it is more a sudden tingling along my spine that warns me. I keep one eye glued to him, unobtrusively of course.

    “Yes. The anti-gravitational field links all the molecules of the different materials together in a sympathetic resonance of sorts. I’m not sure how it works exactly.” I reply, edging towards the suspect character.

    “Well, it is an area of study that we can work out when there is time. But not now.” Proctor walks along the structure, stomping here, stooping there, to scrutinize the latticework of the various components of the platform. The platform is about one hundred feet long and fifty wide.

    “I’m just glad we were successful with that little surprise for our overlords. They didn’t think we could disrupt their high-tech surveillance system, but they were mistaken.” Proctor chuckles, then the smile vanishes as he gets serious.

    “We were very lucky. We expected a few loses but no one was hurt - on either side. Some one up there must be looking out after us...”

    “More than just one someone,” I answer cryptically.

    I see Proctor look at me quizzically. He knows me well. He follows my stare towards the group behind him that up until now had remained silent.

    “Where are my manners? These are my companions, fellow compatriots in the local resistance.” He introduces me to the first five, two women and three men. I shake hands and exchange a few pleasantries with each.

    “And this one here is the newest addition to our ranks. Paul, say hello to our benefactor and designer of this floating proto-city.” Proctor turns to me and says, “He made our attack possible and had a lot to do with its success.”

    “Hi,” I say and extend my hand.

    “We’d better cut this introduction short. You need to reactivate the force field before they try and blow us out of the air.” Proctor interjects as the interloper grasps my hand.

    Before any of us can react this spy swings me around by the hand, trips me up and pushes me off the platform.

    The wind whistles in my ears and my heart races wildly as I hurtle to my doom.

    I have a moment to think “I knew it!” before more pressing concerns crowd out such trivialities.

    The stories were true, I think, as my life history plays out in front of my eyes. It has been a good life, I can hold my head up high as I go to meet my maker. I close my eyes and try to calm myself. I do not want my last moments to be overwhelmed by fear. I try to pray, but the words won’t come. Here we go, I think...

    Of all the things I could think about in these last moments, I am surprised I turn to the idea of the force field generator. There is something nagging at me, some aspect of it that I had never considered. I try to focus in on it. Why would I think of that now?

    How does the energy get swallowed up by the field? Where does it go - another pocket universe, another dimension? Or does the energy get transmuted in some way? The force field does not create a null field. That is a separate phenomena, or is it?

    When else could I have this spark of insight - and why now unless it is somehow relevant? But how could it be relevant? Time seems to slow down to allow me time to consider. Or perhaps my thoughts just speed up, I don’t know.

    If the force field does not allow the energy in then what could it be doing with it? Could it dissipate the energy, spread it out over a vast distance so that only a few ergs of power manifest in any given volume of space? It was true that there were some anomalous readings evident immediately after the field swallows an incoming attack. It almost seemed as though there was a blip of energy all around, raising the potential of the ambient. Could that be it? Could the energy be dispersed over a large area? But if so, that implied there was a way to circumvent its effect by not allowing the field access to surrounding space. Holy smokes! If that was true then we had only been lucky our enemy had not thought of that. Enclose the field in a null field just as the effect begins and the energy would not be able to disperse. It would cook in its own juices and fry the circuitry as a secondary effect.

    Still, why think of that now? Why can’t I just focus on making peace with my God considering I’m about to meet Him face to Face? What am I missing here?

    The Electric Universe Theory proposes that two counter fields interact to create an environment conducive to these exotic effects. They either force another dimension to line up with our own or they unpack those otherwise hidden effects.

    Something in my mind hinted at a third possibility, a possibility that actually had relevance to my immediate predicament - the Holographic Model. Could it be the key?

    The Holographic Model basically implies that there is an implicate order to the explicit, and vice versa! It relies on the idea of non-locality. That is, it assumes that all of reality is one thing, whatever that thing is, and that it is an unfolding of the enfolded that occurs when any phenomena manifests. Could it be that the manipulation of the electric dipole can unfold effects from the vacuum? And if it were so, then couldn’t I also unfold a desired effect just by sheer will? After all, if the Holographic Model is correct then my mind is a holographic generator capable of manifesting the unmanifest, the implicit. Interesting...

    I dare not open my eyes for fear of realizing I am out of time. I force myself back into revelry. I recall what I know of this holographic theory.

    The placebo effect was part of it. In some unexplained way the human mind could eradicate disease if it was convinced the placebo was in fact a new and marvelous drug. Another aspect were those afflicted by multiple personality disorder who displayed the most unnerving ability to manifest entirely different physiological responses depending upon which personality was in control. Some displayed improved eyesight, different allergies, even remission of incurable diseases like diabetes. Stigmatists were another group that showed how the wounds of the crucifixion could appear at will upon the hands and feet of the faithful. Still others could control their circulatory systems to such an extent that they could run darning needles through their bodies without bleeding and remove them without wounds to mark where the foreign objects had entered their bodies.

    Bohm and other scientists (like Tesla) had pioneered this type of work in the field of physics but that work had been hijacked by the cabal that now runs the world. Since then, it had been proven beyond doubt that non-locality is an aspect of sub-atomic physics. Objects separated by large distances could respond to each other faster than the speed of light, an impossibility in terms of Einsteinian reality. That is how non-locality became the alternate explanation, since nothing can travel faster than the speed of light it had to be assumed that at least some objects are spread out over space (for lack of a better descriptor) and are therefore “non-local” in essence. We only see a portion of this essence and call it a particle but the unseen wave portion extends outward through space and perhaps even through time. The ramifications of these experiments were down-played by our rulers...

    Many mystics also talk of ideas that resemble this holographic/morphologic field in more personal terms. They describe subjective states where all sorts of impossible experiences can occur. They explain these as a connection to higher realms in which their soul or essence can travel through space and time, bilocate, access otherwise hidden knowledge, hover and even fly, alter physiology, reverse degenerative diseases and other esoterica. Almost nothing is impossible, they would claim, to the human experience if enough energy and time is focused upon it. The mystical experience of these extra-human abilities is often preceded by some sort of extraordinary physical occurrence.

    Even normal humans, with no training can and do experience these strange altered states where suddenly they can express startling super-human abilities. Perhaps the most common is the stories of people who, due to some life-threatening circumstance, can exhibit super-human strength, lifting thousands of pounds to extricate a loved one pinned under a car or over-coming extreme stresses that would otherwise have surely killed them.

    Carlos Castaneda, while documenting the mystic Don Juan and studying under the shaman’s tutelage, jumped off of a cliff and survived - although his normal mind explained it away and blanked it out of his awareness. Others that had been there that day later confirmed that he had indeed gone over the cliff and plummeted out of sight.

    I remember my sporadic dreams of flying, the most recent of which had occurred just a few days ago. In that dream I suddenly remembered I knew how to fly! The rest of the dream was about relearning that skill, awkwardly at first but with gathering facility until I could streak through the sky with the greatest of ease!

    Something tells me to open my eyes. I reluctantly obey. I see I am only a few hundred feet from the ground. Below me is a street. There are some people walking below and I see I am about to land on top of an abandoned city bus. My heart jumps into my throat at the prospect.

    Another part of me realizes that I actually do or did know how to fly! Maybe because of the extra-ordinary situation, maybe because of divine intervention, maybe because some alien decided to help, I don’t know, all I know is that I could will myself to halt my drastic downward trajectory right now, right here - if I wanted to.

    I wanted to! Of course I wanted to!

    And I suddenly remember exactly how to summon the ability to fly! Just like that...

    And just like that I halt my plummet to my death!

    I find myself hovering inches above the top of the bus!

    I land on the top of the bus, scramble down off of it and, on hands and knees, while marveling at my incredible luck, I disgorge the contents of my stomach.

    Someone comes over and places a hand on my back in sympathy asking me if I’m alright. I cannot answer. Instead, I pass out.

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  39. Link to Post #140
    United States Avalon Member Wade Frazier's Avatar
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    Default Re: A Future Earth


    OK, here is the one that started it all, with these future Earths. I summarized it here:


    and below I will produce the full account. It is chapter 9 of Michael Roads’s Into a Timeless Realm.


    The book is his account of an all-night out-of-body experience that he had, that initiated his mystical awakening. That event happened before the events in his earlier books, but his mystical awakening was so strange that he did not write about it until his fourth book. Again, I know people who have visited similar realities, and mystical books frequently have accounts like this. I do not regard Roads’s account below as fantasy, but potential futures for some of us. What we do today will determine what our future is.

    Here goes…

    For a few moments I hesitate, then I enter. The room appears to be large, having a number of what appear as glass panels along one side.

    “Is anyone here?” I call out. Receiving no reply, I walk farther in, crossing over to one of the glass panels. I deliberately leave the door open, so that I do not seem to be surreptitiously snooping around. It occurs to me that the glass panels may be windows, giving me a view of space or whatever it is we are traveling through.

    Walking over to the first panel, I discover that they are not windows or, if they are, they are not to the outside of the craft. Each glass panel is about ten feet square and quite clear, but after quickly glancing through a few of them, I realize that each offers a very different view. There are dozens of glass panels all along one very long wall – a wall that now seems to go on and on. These bi-spatial rooms take a bit of getting used to.

    Back at the first glass panel, I gaze carefully into the holographic view that it reveals. I get the impression that it is Earth I am looking at. I have a bird’s eye view, looking down onto an ever-changing scene of an Earth that is unfamiliar to me. I see a city of golden-colored domes, glowing as they absorb the rays of the sun. A faint violet haze is drifting, foglike, across the city. As I watch, the city seems to be coming closer, the domes more detailed. Some of them are quite transparent, many are translucent. I watch as one dome changes from translucent to a golden color, and I wonder if this can be controlled. My bird’s eye view moves closer. People are walking the streets that have no traffic, and no one seems to be in a rush. Trees are prolific, many in full flower. Many of the trees are unknown to me, especially the species in silver colored leaves. The people wear scant but extremely colorful clothing. I am so absorbed in looking at the city that I am startled when a quiet voice interrupts me.

    “Do you like what you see?”

    Turning around, I see the Shepherd watching me, his blue eyes a reflection of space.

    “It is beautiful. Is it Earth?”

    “Yes. In all her potential glory.”

    “I assume this is Earth’s future.”

    Staring into the window, the Shepherd replies, “Not really. The scene you gaze upon is neither past not future; it is this moment.”

    I stare at the Shepherd in confusion. “It can’t be. I used to, er…I live on Earth, and it’s nothing like this.”

    The Shepherd’s eyes are solemn as he turns to me. “If you are going to express a Greater Truth, you must realize that time is not quite as it appears. The past and future are different frames in the Greater Reality of Now – this moment.”

    With a sudden vivid recollection, the strange scenes I have been compelled to witness in the opaque sphere over the river come back to me. “Does that apply to what I saw within the sphere?” I ask, assuming that the Shepherd will know what I mean. “Was that the past of humanity in a Greater Reality of Now?”

    “What you witnessed with the etheric Beings, and within the etheric/physical Beings, was the movement of an evolving Nature into human consciousness. No animal can directly become a human, however evolved it might be. Animal consciousness requires a vast expansion to take on the expressions that it will need to assimilate as a human. Learning the laws of free will and imagination as the tools of creation is not a minor undertaking.”

    “Are you saying that when a pet dog or cat is finished in animal evolution, it moves through that etheric development before becoming physically human?”

    “That about sums it up.”

    I stare at the Shepherd, openmouthed. I had never even considered the implications of what happens next to a highly evolved cat or dog or other animal.

    “Does this mean they have to go through all those other stages? Even the giants?”

    “Not at all. What you saw equates with your present humanity. That is your past, yet it is also a continuity in a different frame of Now. Animal consciousness of today carries a greater awareness. This means that after the earlier etheric and etheric/physical changes, the humanity that develops is self-determining. No expression is preordained; this would defeat free will.”

    My mind if just about overloaded as I try to understand, but one question persists.

    “Are those giants doomed forever, or can that be changed? The thought of their terrible violence and suffering going on indefinitely is hard to even think about.”

    The Shepherd seems pleased with the question. “As you change in the moment, growing in consciousness both individually and as a people, so you alter the future and the past. All time occupies the same space. However, within the timelessness, there are infinite frames of reality. No frame is free of the effect of the eternal Now. Your Now can affect and change their Now.”

    “This is all too much!”

    Gazing back into the holographic view in the glass panel before me, I stare again at the futuristic scene. Time is totally weird. Past and future seem to have no real meaning. I am baffled. The more the Shepherd tells me, the more it seems to open up and the more I need to know. Where does it all end? I shrug. I guess it doesn’t!

    “So where does this scene fit in?” I ask. “It doesn’t belong to the Earth reality that I know.”

    “Would you like to have it belong?”

    “How do I do that?”

    “Michael, look at the scene before you. Do you feel a harmonic resonance toward it? Does it fit you?”

    “Of course it does, I exclaim. “Wouldn’t it fit everyone?”

    The Shepherd looks at me with unruffled patience. “No, Michael, it would not fit everyone. There are many who would want to rip the soil open to exploit its mineral wealth, and others who could not rest until the trees were felled. Yet others would need, in some way, to impose their hand on the imprint of Nature, convinced that they could do it better. There are very few humans who ask Nature if they may co-create together. And what you see now is just such a co-creation. It is real. It does exist.”

    “Are you saying that I can choose this as my future?” I ask.

    “If you belong, yes. You can choose this reality of Earth, or you can choose something quite different. Come, have a look through this next frame.”

    Following the Shepherd to the next window, I muse over what he has told me. It seems that each window offers a different view of reality, but I am grappling with the mind-boggling implications.

    “So are these all different futures for our present humanity, or is only one of them our future?”

    The Shepherd raises his eyebrows, looking pensive. “Let me try a different angle to this, Michael. In direct accordance to his or her beliefs and conditioning, there will be a different reality/future for each and every human Being. And each person will believe that his or her experience is the only basic reality there is. This will create the usual dichotomy of a consensus reality which is made of shared sameness, even though the people concerned each experience only their own reality.”

    But…but that doesn’t make sense!”

    “Of course it doesn’t. Are you suggesting that human behavior normally does make sense?”

    “What can I say to that?”

    “Naturally,” the Shepherd continues, “there will always be those people who learn to become more open, eventually experiencing a Greater Reality within this frame. Generally, they are ridiculed and criticized, for this is the way of consensus reality. Paradoxically, however, even consensus reality has many different frames of Now.”

    Standing at the window, the Shepherd gestures toward its view. “This is another future reality.”

    I look into another frame of Earth reality. Gone is the beauty, gone the peace. The view moved swiftly over a ravaged countryside, green and prolific but strangely distorted. A city comes into view, contrasting great wealth with shocking poverty. “Is this a consensus reality future?” I whisper.

    The Shepherd ignores my question, and holding out a hand invites me to accompany him. “Come and see for yourself, for this is one direction humanity is taking.”

    I shudder. “No, thank you. I experienced myself in lifetimes of battle earlier, and it was terrible. I don’t want to suffer any more trauma than that.”

    “You will accompany me this time, rather than I accompany an uncomprehending you. You will be a nonphysical observer, not an active participant.”

    “You mean I won’t get hurt?”

    “Guaranteed – no hurt or pain,” the Shepherd replies.

    “Do you mean to say that you watched all my ordeals as I journeyed, and I didn’t know?” I gasp.

    “You were never alone, Michael. But you would have drawn so deeply on your own resources when you encountered other Beings if you had been accompanied by such as I?”

    I shrug helplessly. What can I say?

    “Look!” The Shepherd’s voice is commanding, and as I look into the window, I am falling…falling…into a future Earth probability. To my immense relief, the Shepherd is at my side. “We are invisible to other people, Michael. We are shadows of light, observers, unseen and unrealized.”

    “This happens often, doesn’t it?” I ask on a surge of insight. “Other beings often drop in to see how things are shaping up on three-dimensional Earth.”

    “The Shepherd is amused. “Yes, as a matter of fact they do.” He paused. “And not always to your benefit.”

    I feel alarmed by his words. “What do you mean?”

    “You will see,” he replies, dismissing it.

    Looking around, I see that we are on a farm, even though it is different from any farm of my experience.

    “I suppose this is no coincidence, is it? I mean, I always seem to learn so much from Nature, either on a farm or in the more wild environments.”

    “This is your way, Michael. You are not particularly receptive to people, but very open to Nature. A metaphysical Nature is your path.” The Shepherd gestures around us expansively. “So, what you do think of this? Does it appeal?”

    I shudder. We are standing on the edge of a small spinney of low, spreading trees. We could be in England, for it has a familiar feeling to me, but if so, it is a very changed England. The farm is obviously a dairy farm. The dairy is close to where we are standing, and, unobserved, the Shepherd and I enter the large building. It is an obscenity. I look toward the Shepherd to see how he feels about this, but if he is feeling any disgust it is not apparent on his benign features. I look at the cows – if that is what they can be called – and shudder in revulsion. Each cow is no more than a biological unit in a very large, milking, feeding, life support machine. The cows are grotesque. They are each have a head, mouth, body and a huge, gross udder, but none of them has eyes, ears, or legs. Each sad, unhappy animal is housed in a larger container, constantly hooked into the machine. Liquid food is fed into them via a couple of tubes, while the milk they produce is constantly from them from one large teat in the udder.

    I stare at the Shepherd, appalled. “Is this real?” I choke. “This abomination is absolutely disgusting!”

    The Shepherd shrugs, looking sad. “This is considered the pinnacle of advanced milk production in this reality. It is certainly happening.”

    I recall my earlier vision in the sphere over the river, when I was shown the giants and their horrendous genetic experimentation, and I realize that the arrogant desire to manipulate and subjugate Nature is still with this future humanity. In fact, it is obviously finding a whole new expression. Remembering where it finally led the giants, I shudder.

    “How can you allow it?” I ask indignantly. “This is absolutely gross – the ultimate degradation of an animal. And it is dangerous.”

    He looks at me levelly. “Michael, this is choice. The farmers involved in this method of milk production have deliberately chosen it, while all those who drink the milk have inadvertently chosen it. However, even in this reality, there are those who resist such methods.”

    As he speaks, a couple of men dressed in white, sterile overalls, walk toward us, deeply engaged in conversation. They stand close by us, watching one of the poor deformed cows. After a while, one of the men steps toward it, and with a small instrument looking like a pen, presses it on the side of the cow’s head. There is a sharp hiss, and the cow shudders, going suddenly limp. Briskly, the two men disconnect the cow, swinging the container out across the driveway so that the carcass can be dumped into a mobile trolley that has just trundled up. Moments later, another trolley arrives, and another slightly smaller cow unit is attached to the horrific machine. The whole process has taken maybe ten minutes.

    The Shepherd and I follow the trolley containing the dead cow unit into another large building containing a number of sealed, yet transparent vats. The cow unit is dumped into a conveyor and quickly deposited into a vat. As we watch, the cow unit begins to melt rapidly.

    “Is that acid?” I ask, shocked.

    “No,” the Shepherd replies. “The vat contains specially produced enzymes and bacteria. The cow unit is in the process of becoming food for the other cow units.”

    I am appalled, silenced by sadness. Together, we talk among other vats. Through the transparent sides, I see that new cow units are being grown in a synthetic biological imitation of a womb, and held in a thick, jellylike nutrient suspension until almost full grown and needed. I feel sick.

    “Would you like to see a hospital of this reality?” the Shepherd asks me, with a level gaze.

    “No!” I gasp vehemently. “This is no place that I will ever live. Besides, I don’t think I could handle seeing the human equivalent of this violation. Is this the outcome of genetic manipulation?”

    “One outcome, Michael, just one reality of it. In this reality, human ethics, integrity, and spiritual values are given no consideration.”

    “Are there reality frames involving genetic manipulation where the outcome is different?” I ask.

    “Oh yes, very different. There are reality frames where genetic manipulation is married to the highest expression of moral and ethical principles.”

    “Are you saying that all these realities occupy the same space?”


    “Sort of like a loaf of sliced bread, with all the different slices making up the whole loaf?”

    “That says it nicely.”

    “Is it possible then to travel from one reality/slice to another reality/slice in the whole loaf/Greater Reality?”

    “Of course.”


    “By changing your focus, by acting out your new focus, and living the truth of that focus. This will create an expansion in consciousness that will eventually take you into a Greater Reality.”

    “So this must be an anyway shift? I mean a person can shift into a reality that is more spiritual, with higher ideals and expressions, or into a reality that is base and more gross?”

    “Yes, people do it all the time. However, to change your frame of reality requires a more drastic approach.”

    My insight is blossoming as I follow it. “Am I correct in assuming that in the process we call life and living we can expand and enrich our current reality, but when a more drastic change in reality is reached, we do it through the process we call death and dying?”

    The Shepherd looks pleased. “Absolutely right.”

    “So death may well be our greatest triumph of change and growth?”

    “It can be that, yes. That is always the potential. But it can also be no more than a recycling of conditioned sameness. Choice, Michael, choice. And it takes choice just to choose! It is far easier to stay with sameness than risk the choice of change.”

    “And yet sameness equates as suffering,” I add.

    The Shepherd nods. “But change means risk, and most humans tend to avoid risks. Even those who work with danger, or take sporting risks, shy away from the risk of leaving consensus reality – of stretching, expanding, and growing in consciousness.”

    “And of losing the approval of consensus reality. Which equates to becoming a misfit, a social outcast.

    “That is the way of it, Michael.”

    I gaze at my light body and spread my arms wide. “So why am I here in this incredible reality? What is the real purpose of all of this?”

    The Shepherd gazes into my eyes. “Love, Michael. It’s all about Love. Both humanity and the planet Earth resonate to the vibration of Love. Love is the creative force, the power of Change and growth. Love is your natural creative expression, your path to Godhood, but you are required to choose it. This is your human process. Anything less than Love is very definitely less!” He opens his arms in a gesture that embraces the farm and the pitiful cow units.

    I shudder. The absence of love in this awful place carried its own horrid message of hopelessness and despair.

    “Michael, use your deeper senses as we walk across the field and through the spinney. Attune with Nature,” the Shepherd instructs.

    Perhaps unwisely, I turn my focus of attunement toward the cow unit and recoil in shock. Each cow unit, in both the vats and in the machine, is shrouded in heavy shadow. Instead of the normal life-force emanation around a living creature, there is a field of shadowy energy, heavy with distortion and discord.

    “This is dreadful,” I gasp. “I’ve never experienced anything like it. I shudder to think of the causal effect that humanity is sowing here. It will be a harvest of paramount misery and suffering.”

    The Shepherd is grim. “This certainly represents a poor choice when it comes to learning about life, Michael, but the lessons will be learned. Pain and suffering are harsh teachers, but remarkably effective. Come, let us walk away from all this depression.”

    We walk toward a field of green abundance, where an ovoid, silvery, car-sized machine is cutting the lush vegetation with the smooth, gliding ease of a vacuum cleaner sliding over a plush green carpet. The Shepherd drops back a couple of steps – deliberately withdrawing his influence from my experience – while I walk into a field of some unknown vegetation that is growing faster than anything I have ever seen. Even as it is harvested, it is visibly growing. Staring, I go on my hands and knees to see how it is cut, and learn that it is not cut; somehow, the plant stems are biologically separated as the machine passes over them. Physically, this seems a great advance, but the vibration of energy from the plants is a message of harsh discord.

    I sit down and relax, focusing into Nature, and the reason for the discord becomes obvious: There are no Nature spirits here at all. From the greatest of the Nature Beings to the tiniest of Nature spirits that I encountered earlier, not a single representative is here. There is nothing but genetically-altered biologically rampant plant growth. Each plant is as captive and manipulated as the cow units. They are genetically induced and chemically stimulated to produce growth, and their container is an enslaved environment where the ecosystem is captive to rampant greed. The discord that is so apparent to me is obviously not felt by the human violators. However, the discord of this green food is fed to cow units to combine with their discord and distress. The resulting accumulated discordance – made into a wide variety of dairy food products – is then fed into a system that ends up in human bodies. What an irony! The society that condones and produces this unnatural discord reaps the harvest of its own misery.

    I turn to the Shepherd. “I still don’t want to see the hospitals,” I tell him, “but I’ll bet anything that they are always full.”

    The Shepherd makes a curious gesture, and we are standing on the sidewalk of a dark, brooding city. “I respect your reluctance to enter a hospital, but you should have a brief glimpse of city life. Cities similar to this are home to the overwhelming masses.”

    It takes me a while to understand my perception of the city. We are standing on a street, but above us there are other streets in a sequence of streets, and below, still more. With a wave of his hand, the Shepherd and I drift downward into the dirtier and more depressed slums. The really odd thing is that each level of complex streets seems to be at ground level, but I am learning that these are literally multi-tiered ghettos, or structures of society. This is based not on differing nationalities, but on income, money, or, as it is known in this reality, credits.

    The buildings are immense, towering as shades of dark grime to the streets above. I get the impression that the buildings are both the habitats of the people and the support structure of the streets. The streets appear to be held on a network of surprisingly slim metallic girders, strung between the buildings. “How is this possible? I ask. “I would have thoughts that the weight of such huge buildings would have fractured the concrete in the lower levels, destabilizing them. And the iron framework that supports the streets looks too flimsy to hold the weight.”

    The Shepherd smiles grimly. “Even though the principles of real Love slumber in this reality zone, technology grows apace. A way was found to not only improve the strength of concrete, but to build in a certain flexibility. There is no limit to the possible height and weight of a building in this reality. Equally, iron and plastic were melded, each taking on the best qualities of the other. The material has tremendous strength and is almost impervious to climate, acids, and natural deterioration.”

    Gazing around me at the squalor and grime, I sigh. “And this is the best they can do with such advanced technology?”

    The Shepherd shrugs. “When the highest principles of humanity are sacrificed, everyone becomes exploited.”

    The people around us are reasonably normal to look at, except they all seem young. “Where are the aged?” I ask.

    His smile is sad. “At these lower levels of society, there are rarely any aged people. There is no welfare, charity – only survival. The hopeless, injured, sick, and infirm take a tiny painless pill. That’s it, the end – for a while.”

    Few people are alone; mostly they travel around in groups. The most basic transport looks like a motorized skateboard of varying sizes, except the motor is about the size of a football and silent. Some carry half a dozen people, some have one person, but they seem to swerve in and around a certain set parameter in an alarming manner. It is cold, but people wear only thin, almost transparent clothing cut into an incredible array of colors and styles. Obviously the material has some remarkable insulation ability, for although the people may be unhappy and highly stressed, quite clearly, they are not cold.

    We come to a stop in our downward drift on the lowest level of the streets – ground level. A stench hangs in the air, held by a permanent mist. At the sunniest time of the day, it becomes a mellow twilight, before the shadows creep out to envelop the shame in darkness. It is dreadful.

    “Do people actually live in this? When is this reality future? I know it is a framework of Now, but it also has a linear reality. When is that?”

    “About three hundred years down your time track will see this all in place. You have to understand that each person creates his or her own reality. This is one outcome of a consensus reality of greed and indifference. While greed and indifference are held in the human consciousness, they must find a physical expression. This is a principle of life.”

    “I want to leave this place. I find it hard to believe that such a future is possible.” I look around and shudder, aware of very few people. “If the inhabitants take the lethal pill when they are too sick to continue, how is it that there are any hospitals in this reality?”

    “Hospitals are for those with sufficient credit, the Shepherd tells me, “while the pills are freely available to the poor. You are seeing nothing more than a fleeting overview of all this. War as you know it has been abolished in this society, for practically everyone is another’s adversary. Living and survival are a daily battle – the ultimate war. This reality draws the worst from each person, rather than the best.” He smiles at my dismay. “Hard to imagine?”

    I now. “As with the cow units, this reminds me in some way of the giants of the past era. This reality has the same elements of cruelty and indifference.”

    “Very true. Those giants were a pre-race of the present humanity, but they still continue with another reality frame of Now. They…”

    I cut in. “You mean another slice in the loaf?”

    “Yes. Human life is an expression of consciousness. The causal discord of the giants is still being expressed in humanity, but this is not everyone’s reality. If you choose love, then love is your reality. If you do not choose love, then your conditioning will determine your reality.”

    “Does it ever end?” I ask.

    The Shepherd smiles enigmatically. “Did it ever really begin? Come, let me show you the other aspect of this city before we depart.”

    We float rapidly upward, and I count six levels before we come to obvious wealth and affluence. This level is amazing. Beyond the streets it is open parkland, with mountains to be seen in the distance. Birds abound, with rainbows arcing across a deep blue sky. “Wow! This is better! I gasp, delighted.

    Attune with Nature and see around you, the Shepherd suggests. “You might get a surprise.”

    I focus into the light force of Nature – and nothing! I can see an abundant Nature all around me, but my attunement reveals nothing. I frown at the Shepherd’s smile, puzzled.

    “I suppose common sense should tell me that you cannot landscape a high-rise space, but it looks like a ground-level Botanical Park.”

    “It’s all holographs – an elaborate illusion,” he tells me. We walk over to a courtyards overflowing with red and pink roses as they clamber along a balustrade. Reaching out, I touch a blossom of a rose and feel its coolness. I even inhale its fragrance, but my finer, attuned senses indicate that it is not a real rose. The illusion contains a high degree of physical substance, but it is somehow unreal.

    “How can a rose be unreal, an illusion, yet have substance?”

    “It’s a form of virtual reality – a misnomer, if there ever was one,” the Shepherd replies. “It is so well contrived that only those who understand the principles involved are able to detect the false from the real. Most people here believe that all this” – the Shepherd indicates around us with a wave of his hands – “is real. They are deluded, unable to discern real life from fabricated illusion. So much for brain-form patterns and their deliberate manipulation.”

    Slowly, I am comprehending the implications of this amazing delusion. “What an insidious form of control! The people on the lower levels are more in touch with reality than these poor souls.”

    The Shepherd’s smile is whimsical. “What is reality?”

    I open my mouth to reply, then close it. What indeed?

    Together, the Shepherd and I walk among the people. As before, on the lower levels, I cannot understand the language. It seems to have a touch of English mixed with other languages. However, I can understand what people say, for I hear them on a telepathic level that is beyond all language – the inner voice. I get the impression that the people on this level are drugged happy, whereas only a few were obviously drugged on the lower levels. Here, everyone seems to be on a permanent high, their fixed smile hiding an acute inner emptiness. Physically, everyone is beautiful and wearing very little clothing. Wispy materials that reflect a different color with every turn and twist of the body seem the most popular choice. The material is transparent, yet the colors artfully defeat the eye according to the whim of the wearer in what is evidently a seductive and tantalizing fashion.

    Elderly people are to be seen everywhere, vital and healthy in appearance, while the children are in large groups, supervised by an adult. Most of the children wear nothing, comfortable in a stable, permanent warmth.

    “I suppose, all things considered, that this is better than the lower levels,” I say.

    “You think so.” The Shepherd nods toward a slightly more corpulent man as he walks by. “That is the Cowmaster – using a cynical term – overseeing his human/cow units. Even if it is a less demanding system than the milking machine, these people are just as surely being sucked dry.”

    “I don’t understand. It looks better than down below.”

    The Shepherd smiles a tight, brief smile, his eyes flashing dangerously. “The lower levels are left to their own devices. They are the rebels, the troublemakers, yet they are the saving grace of this reality frame. It is from them and their growing shame at their own callous indifference that change is precipitated into this reality.”

    The Shepherd looks up. “Come. See where the anger is directed.”

    We ascend swiftly, two unseen ghosts from two different realities, moving together thought the ethers of energy that hold all realities apart – and together – as One. Soon, we stand on the highest level, overlooking a very changed scene. Here is opulence. We appear to be surrounded by mansions and castles spun from the threads of a rainbow. They occupy the space that on every other level is taken by the vast buildings that tower, up and up, on each side of the streets. On the level we just left, the buildings were hidden by virtual reality. Maybe this is the same; it is the only explanation possible.

    The Shepherd knows my thoughts. “Actually, no. The buildings have ended here. However, they are the frame upon on which all this stands. The true land is obviously far below us, yet, with their technology, they have created enough synthetic soil to fabricate a replica of Earth conditions in the style that appeals to them. Enough to say that much of what you see here is real, with a little help from virtual reality. It is enhanced to create the illusion of great space and distance, as though it is on the ground, yet, in reality, it is not as large as it appears. Here, in the terms of credits, is wealth beyond reckoning.”

    A family group appears – two children and a woman. I cannot tell if the children are boys or girls, for they appear disturbingly sexless. However, they have such a radiant, healthy energy that they are enshrouded in a visible aura of shimmering color.

    “Are they Gods or what?” I ask, awed.

    “They are no more or no less Gods than every human Being is. What you see is the result of genetic manipulation and chromosome flushing. The consequence is spectacular in physical appearance and longevity.”

    “I bet this costs a heap to maintain.”

    “Almost nothing is impossible here if credits can make it happen, but there is another, more demanding price to pay. Michael, what would you say is the overall impression of this reality?”

    “That’s easy. In a word, discord. Overwhelming, never-ending, unremitting discord. And that means suffering. Oceans of suffering.”

    The Shepherd points dramatically. “Look! Observe what I reveal.”

    One of the nearby palaces seems to get closer, but I quickly realize that my perspective is being altered. I am now able to see clearly into a large room and to observe the people in it. People! Only some of them are human! Mixed and mingling among the couple of dozen normal humans are a number of short, gray-skinned humanoids. Aided by the Shepherd, my insight expands, and I understand what I am seeing. The Gray Ones have a humanoid form, are around five feet tall, and have blurred features. I realize this is deliberate, but the humans see them as normal people. I really am shocked when I perceive that, on a psychic level, the Gray Ones feed off human misery and suffering. In this reality, there are no human winners. All are losers. Everyone! Not just some of the people and a besieged Nature. Somehow, this whole reality is contrived, controlled, and manipulated by a parasitic race of beings. I feel an overwhelming sadness.

    “That is not quite true, Michael. The Gray Ones did not create this; they are merely opportunists. There are no winners here. The Gray Ones do not win, for they are victims of their own most base and negative desires. This is the way of life. Your linear, three-dimensional reality is unendingly causal. You can only live within the reality frame of your own causality. If greed and indifference are within your consciousness, then eventually you must experience their outworking, their effect.”

    “I have shown you this for a reason. Your insight into the timeless Reality you are experiencing will be shared. This is part of your purpose in life. You are involved in a process that began a long time ago – in linear terms. There are people in everyday our reality who are ready to move beyond the limitations of mundane consensus reality, progressing toward the birthright of their human divinity.

    “This reality we are visiting is but one consensus reality among many. This one is almost, but not quite, devoid of the expression of real Love.”

    It is a very unhappy place. I sigh. How ironic, to be in the loveless reality, when each and every human is a Being of Light and Love, manifest in physical form.

    As my thoughts end, we drift away, leaving behind that blighted place. We seem to flow through other frames of reality, for occasional glimpses of otherness touch my perception, yet in only moments, the Shepherd and I are again in his craft, standing in the familiar room of mystic windows and gazing into what is now an opaque glass panel.

    I stare wonderingly at the blank panel. “Did all of that really happen?” I ask. “Did we rally travel into a future reality, or did you induce a dream projection?”

    The Shepherd’s whimsical smile is back. “Do you mean was it a real reality, a dream reality, or an illusion?” I ask you again, Michael, what is reality?”

    I think carefully before I reply. “Er…reality is the experience of now, in whatever way, manner, form, or dimension it takes place. Reality has no limits…” I stop as my insight reveals more. “Reality is the expression of consciousness, however that may manifest. An event that is experienced on a three-dimensional level will be a very different reality than from the same event experienced on a higher dimensional plane. Reality is not the event, but the experience of it, and the experience differs with everybody. Therefore, we each create our own reality.” My eyes were open ever wider as I follow my insight. “If we are open to a greater expression of life, so we eventually cross the metaphysical threshold to a truly limitless Reality. All this is determined by each one of us.”

    The Shepherd nods. “Very good. If only you could be as expansive and all-embracing as your words.”

    I frown. “I happen to think that I am doing okay.”

    He looks at me, still nodding. “Yes, I agree, you are. However, the reality is that when you leave this timeless realm you will remember approximately ten percent of your whole experience. You will retain only the ten percent that you are physically writing as we talk. Even that, you will only accept because you will not be able to deny what you have written. Despite this, you will even fight against your own words. You are at the stage of entering the threshold. Part of you is held, fixed and stuck in a consensus reality, while another part is moving into a Greater metaphysical Reality. Sadly, these two major aspects of you will be in conflict.”

    “Which part of me will win?”

    “That is not for me to say. The conflict will be very basic – self-denial versus self-acceptance. In its many different guises, this is the overall conflict of humanity. If you overcome your conflict – nothing less than Self-Realization will accomplish this, then you will know your true purpose in this physical incarnation. Each word that you are now writing as you physically sit on your bed is a primer. If you make that quantum leap of consciousness – crossing the threshold – the skeleton of the words you have written will become fully fleshed, and all your experiences in this realm will be remembered as a happening of Now.”

    “Suppose I do remember everything? Is it allowed?”

    “Of course you are allowed. The choice to forget is yours. It is the only way you see of being able to deal with the immensity of the metaphysical experience. The part of you that clings to consensus reality will be so overwhelmed that you could be emotionally traumatized. The probability is that you will not be able to deal with it.”

    “Suppose I don’t attain Self-Realization?”

    “If you focus on such possibilities, you will ensure that you will not, at least in this incarnation.”

    An incredible, scary resolve sweeps through me. “In my physical terms, I am forty years of age,” I tell the Shepherd. “I vow that I will be Awake and Self-Realized by the time I am fifty, or dead. I will not continue my life longer than that in the consensus-reality illusions.”

    “This might not be very wise, Michael, but if you mean it – and I perceive that, on a soul level, you do – you have just invoked a very powerful catalytic focus. Be very careful and aware with your thoughts, for you have now created a condition where they will either set you Free – or kill you.”

    For a few moments, I am stunned with my own rash action. In some deep inner center, I know that what I have invoked will come to pass, one way or another, yet I feel no fear. The decision has been made, and I have a knowledge that I cannot unmake it. I cannot back out, nor do I want to.

    As we walk toward another window panel, my thoughts turn back to the Gray Ones. In some deep submerged part of me, I have the feeling that I have encountered these Beings before, but I have no memory of it.

    That ends the first part of Roads’s visit to two “future” Earths. I will put up the second part within the next few days. I could write for a few days on the themes that the preceding account touches, as could many Avalon readers. That is one way that Earth will go, from this point on our timeline, and there are people alive today that will pursue that path, on their own path back to the creator. What a dark valley to navigate, but probably all humans have explored some shady vales like it in their lifetimes, oh the joy.

    More soon.


    Last edited by Wade Frazier; 28th September 2015 at 22:50.

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