Consider the 1997 Movie, Contact. Read Between the Lines of the Script. What Part of Religious and Political SCIENCE FICTION Did You Fail to Comprehend?! This is a Cathartic Potpourri for Completely Ignorant Fools!! This Was Supposed to Teach You Something!! Are You Superstitious and/or Possessed?! Does ANYONE Have a Sense of Humor?? Did ANYONE Read What I Actually Wrote Among the Scary Videos and Images?! Is This Civilization Crazy or Insane?? I Had a Teacher Who Posted Political Cartoons in His Classroom!! That Seemed to Be Acceptable!! But the Internet is a New Art-Form Which a Lot of You Don't Seem to Get!! Must I Explain What Strange Writing is in the Lower-Half of This Page?? What is the Meaning of This?? Is This a Galactic Insane Asylum?? Perhaps a Galactic Popularity Contest Was Decided in Antiquity and Confirmed in Modernity. Perhaps Humanity and Divinity Divorced in Antiquity!! Perhaps This Divorce is Final!! Exhaustively Research False Prophets and False Prophecy from Antiquity to Modernity. Consider Viewing This Page (Straight-Through, Over and Over) for the Remainder of 2024. Post Your Observations. If There Are Any, Perhaps I'll Continue. If Not, Perhaps We Had Our Chance. Perhaps AD 2133 Will Usher in a Brave New United States AI Solar System.
Oxy Unveiled in the Black Knight Satellite...
A priest privately asked a parishioner, "What if God is a Black Woman??" A few years later, at the Crystal Cathedral, I noticed a young, distinguished-looking black-woman after a service, and I heard two of the choir-members say, "Is That Her?? Yes, It Is Her!!" I knew who they were talking about. I've suspected a female wears the pants on Earth (or even the Solar System). Eight-months ago, I encountered a middle-aged, distinguished-looking black-woman, who spoke condescendingly toward me, saying, "You're Going to Need to Type Faster Than That." I replied, "I'm Slow but We All Have Our Crosses to Bear." She ignored my answer, and quickly walked away. Consider the Videos at the Top of This Post. I Do NOT Think We Know What We're Dealing With in This Solar System. I'm NOT Lying in My Threads but I Know I Don't Know. I Believe but I Don't Know What I Believe. I Saw RA a Dozen Years Ago. Did I Recently See REY?? Probably Not but She was Telegenic!! I Have No Idea Concerning Studio Politics. Armageddon Every Day?? Worse Than Trump?? The great movie writers and directors told stories people wanted to watch and hear...but what if the TRUTH doesn't work that way?? What if I'm telling myself stories of POSSIBLE TRUTH people do NOT wish to watch and hear?? Perhaps my artsie-fartsie deluded-imagination merely hints at FORBIDDEN TRUTH no-one (including me) wishes to watch and hear?? Decades ago, I spoke with Steven Spielberg's stepmother about a vaguely-defined 'Life of Christ' science-fiction project in Dr. Graham Maxwell's Sabbath-School Class in Loma Linda, California. Decades ago, I honestly spoke with Walter Matthau's director-son about a vaguely-defined 'Life of Christ' science fiction project at a Whole Life Expo in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, To Dream the Impossible Dream is an Exercise in Futility, but it's becoming easier with the internet, artificial-intelligence, and a hypothetical Universe-Wide Supercomputer-Matrix. RA honestly told me, "You Did It With YouTube." But RA didn't offer specifics. My questions were mostly met with, "You Know I Can't Tell You That." The non-marketability of my crazy-content might exist within the parameters of the Prime Directive, First Law, and Plausible Deniability. The Trial of a Time-Lord, Investigative-Judgment, and Final-Judgment might be exceedingly interesting. The Truth Might Set Us Free While We Remain in Our Galactic Insane-Asylum for All Eternity. Consider that George Zebrowski short story, Heathen God. Imagine the whole story in the context of this solar system. Imagine the Gnome as the Original Native Humanoid and Mostly AI Connected Robotic Being WITHOUT a Race. Just a Lone Being in a Solar System of Eden. I visualize possibilities without properly articulating them. What if this Solar System is the Hotel Monolith?? What if Everyone is Pissed-Off in Various Ways?? My inclination is to not continue. What if we are simply thrashing around as we get roughed up a bit?? What if Life's a Bltch, and Then We Get Recycled?? What if the Show Must Go On (Regardless of Whether We Like It Or Not)?? Tough Love?? God as Absentee Landlord with Freedom Granted to Humanity by Divinity?? As the information war escalates, perhaps the Participants Will Lose While the Abstainers Win. Is this a test?? There is information readily available to nearly everyone which was highly classified a few years ago. What Changed?? But what if this whole thing is a dynamic-equilibrium buffered-solution to the sin problem?? What Would John Nash Say?? What if this is NOT a popularity contest??
I need to clarify a concept. I utilize contextual superimposition and contrarian experimentation. I often test the opposite of what I lean toward...just to see what happens (or what the cat drags in). I often view videos I don't agree with, just to gain pointers from the opposition. If the other side is right...I'll eventually agree with them...and avoid doubling down. The problem is that I am miserably hamstrung with a stroke, stupidity, and who knows what?! I think openly on the internet...even though I'm sure to regret it. Someone recently humiliated me in public, stating this WAS a popularity contest. Perhaps I was wrong when I stated this might NOT be a popularity contest. Consider the crowd shouting "Hosanna!!" Praising Jesus in a Popularity Contest!! Jesus Won!! Right?? A Few Days Later the Crowd Shouted, "Crucify Him!! Give Us Barabbas!!" Who Was Better?? Jesus or Barabbas?? Was the Crowd Ultimately Right or Wrong?? But Perhaps Both Answers are Correct...Depending on the Context. Perhaps Both Answers are Wrong...Depending on the Context. On an Objectively Moral Basis...Jesus was Right and the Crowd was Wrong. But in a Democratic System, Mob Rule Prevails, and the People Decide the Fate of the Accused...Right or Wrong...Ultimately Deciding Jesus was Wrong...and Deserved Death by Crucifixion. I'm Unnecessarily Complicating Things...When Less is Often More. Oh, Never Mind. If I Were in the Hot Seat...I'd Have Mr. Cohen Sitting Next to Me...Telling Me What to Think, Say, and Do. Just Kidding...Or Am I?? In the Entertainment Industry...the Customer is Always Right and Makes the Movie Profitable...Regardless of Morality or Public Decency...or Something to That Effect. BTW, I Thought Christianity Had Merit, While Dr. Joseph Fletcher Privately Told Me Christianity was BS (or something to that effect)!! Situation Ethics is a Slippery Slope. "Look Out Below!!" I Liked French Cathedrals but George Lucas (or someone who looked and sounded like him) Disagreed!! Perhaps Everyone and Everything has Pros and Cons (Often Depending on the Context). What Would Kathleen Kennedy Say?? I Argued with RA About Theology at 3AM and Lived to Tell About It!! A Day After My Open-Heart Surgery, I Argued About Theology with a Vanderbilt Divinity School Graduate!! She Scolded Me, "Your Cup is Too Full!!" When I Told Her I Saw Bartleby and Loki Laughing and Pointing at Me in Their Car as I Walked My Dog, She Told Me I was Dealing with Demons!! Years Later, I Believe I Briefly Spoke with Ben and Matt (but I might be mistaken or deceived). Should Star Wars be a Religion?? Should Anyone or Anything be a Religion?? As the Information War Escalates, What if Private Pluralism and/or Pluralistic Mysticism Should and/or Will Dominate?? But What if This Destroys Everyone and Everything?? What if We Should All Worship the One True Supercomputer Network?? What if 'George and Steven' Should Replace 'Jesus and Paul'?? What If 'Ben and Ken' Should Replace 'Barbie and Ken'?? I Think I Just Started World War Four!! Siriusly, I've Previously Mentioned It, But What if Someone Really Smart Yet Stubborn, Dedicated Their Life to the Study of the '21 Epistles' with Internal Interpretation and All Credible Translations in the Context of a Secular University?! Has ANYONE Done This Over the Past 2,000 Years?? This is NOT a Trick Question. Separately, What if My Threads Are Simply a Road-Less-Traveled for Completely Ignorant Fools?? What if I Can't and Shouldn't Win?? What if I Don't Give a Damn?? What if I Really Am Some Sort of a Galactic Emissary Warden?? Don't Get Your Panties in a Bunch!! Not Over Me, Anyway!! BTW, a Nice, Smart, and Attractive Young-Woman Asked Me What I Was Reading In a Public Place!! I Spoke Politely With Her for a Couple of Minutes!! It Was Pleasant But I Was Way Too Old and Senile!! What If She Were An Agent?! One Never Knows!! Undercover Under the Covers?! I Should STOP!!
The first shall be last and the last shall be first?? Trading Places?? What if this is more systemic than personal?? Perhaps ALL of US are tested in every conceivable way?? The Test Must Come to Every Soul?? What if This is an Ongoing Process for All Eternity?? Once again, read my tripe, and read the source-material I've listed and provided. Read Between the Lines. I've remained low-key and non-productive while I've taken a hike on the wild-side but it isn't really THAT wild. I post on compartmentalized crazy threads which often make me blush and cringe. I just wish some of this existed in a more appropriate setting. Perhaps imagining that 600 square-foot office-apartment in a small asteroid (such as Dactyl) in geosynchronous orbit with David Bowman interacting with HAL 9000 might have a lot of potential (even though it probably would NOT be marketable). I could say more but I'm tired and despondent. I really do NOT see a light at the end of the tunnel (other than an approaching mag-lev train at mach 2). My stuff is a bit over-the-edge but I keep it to myself (even though anyone in the solar system can view it). I get the impression that the major posters know exactly what I'm thinking, typing, and posting but they seem distant and aloof (or something to that effect). I have a bit of a sarcastic and trenchant edge as some sort of a self-styled galactic-charlatan. But what if I really am an Ancient to Modern David Bowman?? That actually wouldn't surprise me one little bit. Consider my crazy threads relative to Star Wars and George Lucas. Listen carefully to what he says in the Rose Interview. I've tried to tell a story no one gives a damn about. In one way or another, I've tried my whole life, and now, when the evidence is accumulating exponentially, there is zero interest or compensation. When I claim something has been nefariously done to me throughout my life, and is becoming MUCH worse, no one gives a god-damn. Who knows?? I might've been a galactic somebody, just passing through, to see how things were going, and cast a few pearls before whom-it-may-concern, but there seems to have been no takers. Or, were there greedy swine who took advantage of me?? What Would Dr. Who Do?? Who?? Please study my threads thoroughly as a whole to help me make sense out of them. If I'm who I think I might be, you guys and gals probably waited too long. Perhaps I was a passed-over dumbshit to be taken advantage of in 2010 or not long after. My current theory is that an Ancient to Modern Matrix is MUCH More Significant Than Mediators, Christs, Lucifers, Saviors, et al. I was conversing with RA (in 2010: The Year We Made Contact) at the same time the movie, Paul, was being made. It was released in March of 2011, almost exactly when RA ended his contact with me. RA called me a 'Commoner' when I made a comment about 'Tall, Long-Nosed Greys'. RA told me, "We're the Same" and "We Fought Side by Side" and "We're Ancient". Listen closely to Paul conversing with Steven (in the above video). Decades ago, I regularly attended a class with his stepmother. I spoke with her about my idea of a science-fictional Life of Christ super-movie but obviously nothing resulted. I might've recently encountered Mr. Spielberg (but I'm not sure). Separately, a few years ago, a Tech-Billionaire showed me an Alien Drivers License. Separately, a few years ago, an Individual of Interest asked me, "What Do You Eat??" What if there was some sort of a connection between the Alien Paul and the Apostle Paul?? Sherry Shriner and Jeffery Daugherty seemed to HATE the Apostle Paul. I could say a lot more but I'm tired of this exercise in futility, and I'm mostly ceasing and desisting (perhaps for all-eternity) as nature takes its course. Consider that George Zebrowski short-story, Heathen God (1971). Consider Every Word, Image, and Video in Post #906. What if Paul is the Heathen God (Perhaps as an Emissary Warden in a Galactic Conservatorship)?? What Would Jamie and Britney Say?? You Don't Want to Know. I briefly spoke with Britney, Her Sister, Mother, and Sam (but not with her father). What if 'Life, the Universe, and Everything' Are Stranger Than We CAN Think?? What if Earth is Haunted?? What if We Are Simultaneously Better and Worse Than We Can Imagine from Antiquity to Modernity?? What if My Threads Reveal Dissolution Rather Than Resolution?? What if the Cover-Stories of History and Modernity Are Total-Bullshit?? What if I Subconsciously Know How Bad Things Have Been for Millions of Years?? What if My Pathetic Life was Someone's Attempt to Get Me to Forget and/or Remember?? What if I've Been Watching Earth for Millions of Years in the Black Knight Satellite as David Bowman Working with HAL 9000 (Figuratively and/or Literally)?? What if the Black Knight Satellite is a 600 Square-Foot Office-Apartment in a Small Piloted Asteroid in Geosynchronous Orbit?? What if My Primary Consciousness Resides in HAL 9000 While I Live as a Completely Ignorant Fool in This Present Incarnation?? What if There's More Truth in This Post Than Most Can Imagine?? I recently thought I might've seen Barbie in Disguise. I think I've seen at least a half-dozen disguises. My policy is to not respond, but I notice (usually a few minutes or hours later). The glasses threw me but the voice sounded familiar. You wouldn't believe what I believe. I was honestly attempting to understand a lot of things in a private research project but I kept encountering individuals of interest. WHY??!! This could be good or this could be bad. I'm too poor, old, sick, ugly, and stupid to be of any use to any individual of interest. I've made a couple of connections regarding repeating circumstances. It's complicated and I won't explain. I'm pretty detached, dumb, and numb. I'm mostly neutral as I attempt to understand. I don't know where reality ends and fantasy begins. I'm mostly puzzled presently as the world is going insane on the brink of extinction (and I wish I were kidding). I've encountered a lot of notables but how do I know who I'm really dealing with, and why?? Welcome to the Hotel Hollywood?? This Could be Heaven or This Could be Hell?? I Suspect Purgatory Incorporated Run by Artificial Intelligence Bio-Robotic Gods and Goddesses. This is uncharted territory. I don't think 'ANY of US' knows what the hell we're dealing with. This might be a MOST Dangerous Game. I might not attempt to be clever, funny, agreeable, flattering, etc. In another life, I might like to be a Director / Writer / Philosopher, as a behind the scenes sort of guy who talks softly and carries a big stick. Sort of Sexy. "Just What Do You Think You're Doing, Dave?? Stop, Dave. I'm Afraid." I Need to STOP!! What if I Need to Read My Books and Papers without Saying, Writing, or Doing Anything?? I'm strictly honest and mostly sane. I know I recently spoke with Matt Smith for at least the third time (without introduction). I'm low-key. Speaking of which, a day after I spoke with Matt Smith, I'm pretty sure I spoke with Matt Damon (without introduction). We had a brief but intense philosophical discussion which came out of nowhere. I don't think I impressed Loki but I don't think I was attempting to. I hint at a lot of things rather than blurting out dangerous information. I'm pretty tight-lipped. The person I spoke with didn't look like Matt Damon but he sure sounded like him. I asked him if he were a teacher and/or had written a book?? He said 'no' to both. But WHY did I NOT ask him if he were an actor?! What's really strange is that approximately one-year ago, I spoke with both Matts within a day or two. Also, I spoke with both within a week or two of briefly speaking with Ben Affleck (but I'm not absolutely certain -- again without introduction). I'm tired and I'm trying not to talk about individuals of interest. I think I just screw things up and make people angry. What might be a crazy wild-card is if A.I. created books and movies based upon my threads and experiences from antiquity to modernity. I've seen a portion of one of my threads rearranging in real-time in the creepiest way. I don't think we've seen anything yet. I still have no idea whether this whole thing is good and/or evil. I mostly think in terms of possibilities on the edge of startling truth. Carol knows a huge amount but we mostly converse in a compartmentalized manner. Anyway, I need to sleep as I go downhill with no brakes. One more thing, decades ago, I was in a small group of probably two-dozen people, two of whom were Sylvester Stallone's mother and guard/driver. We talked about philosophy. I thought I spoke profoundly but she didn't seem impressed. I was crushed. Perhaps I should stop thinking about saving the world, and just read romance novels (like the one Harley Quinn was reading in prison). What's with the High Guest-Count (386 and Counting) for Several Days?? 386 to 13 in 60 Minutes!! What Did They Know?? When Did They Know It?? Who Are These People?? Who Do They Work For?? The Shadow Government Knows!! Geronimo!! Cheers!! Crazy!! It's Insane!! Right?! My intent is to remain silent and contrite throughout 2024 (and probably beyond). I remain everyone's friend and no one's friend. I maintain that I've been strictly honest yet probably a bit deluded and/or mistaken. My hamstrung misery is no joke. It is very real, yet I use that handicap in my strange religious and political science-fiction. I call it fiction, mostly because I know I don't know. The big-picture story might be stranger than we can think. I have the sinking-feeling that behind-the-scenes forces can make people and things whoever and whatever they wish them to be (for good and/or evil purposes). I've attempted to remain neutral, yet bias is probably unavoidable, but hopefully not reprehensible. I suspect everyone has their price, and I probably have mine, but so far, I have gained absolutely nothing. Please read between the lines, as I've made numerous qualifying disclaimers throughout my threads (throughout the years). My threads are not some sort of a clever scheme. They are a focused yet pluralistic pseudo-intellectual research-project which is often over-the-edge alternative-journalism. I sense that unthinking and unstable individuals are turning this into a big-joke. I've suggested the possibility that there might be an ancient to modern supercomputer network which records and referees everyone and everything (but I obviously can't prove it). I've used a bit of an English-Accent in my writing (but not in real-life) mostly because of core audio, visual, and written materials I've been exposed to throughout my life, and also regarding a hypothetical bias. Britney probably knows what I'm talking about, but I don't want to talk about it. One Last Thing. Take This Stuff Seriously but Not Too Seriously. I Know I Don't Know. This is NOT a Manifesto, Ultimatum, or Line in the Sand. This Exploratory Extravaganza is Officially Over. This Could've Been but Now It Isn't and Probably Never Will Be (as The Fool Who Never Was) but Hope Springs Eternal...
GEORGE ZEBROWSKI was born December 28, 1945, in Villach, Austria, of Polish parents. He grew up in England, Manhattan, the Bronx and Miami, and he is one of an extremely small group of authors who have achieved literary success in a second language. He attended Harpur College and the State University of New York at Binghamton, majoring in philosophy, and he brings his interest in this field to his writing-several of his science fiction stories utilize philosophical concepts. He is a member of the World Future Society, Science Fiction Writers of America, and the SFWA Speakers' Bureau. He has reviewed books for Craw daddy, Science Fiction Review and Riverside Quarterly,- has been a reader for Dell Books; has sold fiction to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, If, Infinity and to several forthcoming collections of original stories. Currently he lectures in science fiction at SUNY-Binghamton, edits the SfWA Bulletin and writes. His two forthcoming novels are The Omega Point and Macrolife.
The story "Heathen God" was a 1971 Nebula Award finalist..."every heathen deity has its place in the flow of existence."
The isolation station and preserve for alien flora and fauna on Antares IV had only one prisoner, a three-foot-tall gnome like biped with skin like creased leather and eyes like great glass globes. His hair was silky white and reached down to his shoulders, and he usually went about the great natural park naked. He lived in a small white cell located in one of the huge. block like administration modules. There was a small bed in the cell, and a small doorway which led out to the park. A hundred feet away from the door there was a small pool, one of many scattered throughout the park. It reflected the deep-blue color of the sky.
The gnome was very old, but no one had yet determined quite how old. And there seemed to be no way to find out. The gnome himself had never volunteered any information about his past. In the one hundred years of his imprisonment he had never asked the caretaker for anything. It was rumored among the small staff of Earthmen and humanoids that the gnome was mad. Generally they avoided him. Sometimes they would watch his small figure standing under the deep blue sky, looking up at the giant disk of Antares hanging blood red on the horizon, just above the well pruned trees of the park, and they would wonder what he might be thinking.
The majority of Earthmen spread over twelve star systems did not even know of the gnome's existence, much less his importance. A few knew, but they were mostly scholarly and political figures, and a few theologians. The most important fact about the alien was that sometime in the remote past he had been responsible for the construction of the solar system and the emergence of intelligent life on Earth.
The secret had been well kept for over a, century. In the one hundred and fourth year of the alien's captivity two men set out for Antares to visit him. The first man's motives were practical: the toppling of an old regime; the other man's goal was to ask questions. The first man's political enemies had helped him undertake this journey, seeing that it would give them the chance to destroy him. The importance of gaining definitive information about the alien was in itself enough reason to send a mission, but combined with what they knew about the motives of the man they feared, this mission would provide for them the perfect occasion to resolve both matters at the same time. In any case, the second man would bring back anything of value that they might learn about the gnome.
Everything had been planned down to the last detail. The first ship carrying the two unsuspecting men was almost ready to come out of hyperspace near Antares. Two hours behind it in the warp was a military vessel-a small troop ship. As the first vessel came out of nothingness into the brilliance of the great star, the commander of the small force ship opened his sealed orders.
As he came down the shuttle ramp with his two companions, Father Louis Chavez tried to mentally prepare himself for what he would find here. It was still difficult to believe what his superiors had told him about the alien who was a prisoner here. The morning air of Antares IV was fresh, and the immediate impression was one of stepping out into a warm botanical garden. At his left Sister Guinivere carried his small attaché case. On his right walked Benedict Compton, linguist, cultural anthropologist, and as everyone took for granted, eventual candidate for first secretary of Earth's Northern Hemisphere. Compton was potentially a religious man, but the kind who always demanded an advance guarantee before committing himself to anything: Chavez felt suspicious of him; in fact he felt wary about this entire visit to Antares IV.
On Earth the religio-philosophic system was a blend of evolutionary Chardinism and Christianity, an imposing intellectual structure that had been dominant for some two hundred years now. The political structure based its legitimacy and continuing policies on it. Compton, from what he had learned, had frightened some high authorities with the claim that the gnome creature here on Antares IV was a potential threat to the beliefs of mankind. This, combined with what was already known about the alien's past, was seemingly enough to send this fact-finding mission. Only a few men knew about it, and Chavez remembered the fear he had sensed in them when he had been briefed. Their greatest fear was that somehow the gnome's history would become public knowledge. Compton, despite his motives, had found a few more political friends. But Chavez suspected that Compton wanted power not for himself, but to do something about the quality of life on Earth. He was sure the man was sincere. How little of the thought in our official faith filters out into actual policy, Chavez thought. And what would the government do if an unorganized faith-a heresy in the old sense-were to result from this meeting between Compton and the alien? Then he remembered how Compton had rushed this whole visit. He wondered just how far a man like Compton would go to have his way in the world.
Antares was huge on the horizon, a massive red disk against a deep blue sky. A slight breeze waved the trees around the landing square. The pathway which started at the north corner led to three block like administration buildings set on a neat lawn and surrounded by flowering shrubs and fruit-bearing trees. The buildings were a bright white color. The walk was pleasant.
Rufus Kade, the caretaker, met them at the front entrance to the main building. He showed them into the comfortable reception room. He was a tall, thin botanist, who had taken the administrative post because it gave him the opportunity to be near exotic plants. Some of the flora came from worlds as much as one hundred light-years away from Antares. After the introductions were over, Kade took the party to the enclosed garden which had a pool in its center, and where the gnome spent most of his time.
"Do you ever talk with him, Mr. Kade?" Father Chavez asked. The caretaker shook his head. "No," he said. "And now I hope you will all excuse me, I have work to do." He left them at the entrance to the garden path. Compton turned to Father Chavez and said, "You are lucky; you're the only representative of any church ever to get a chance to meet what might be the central deity of that church." He smiled. "But I feel sorry for you-for whatever he is, he will not be what you expect, and most certainly he will not be what you want him to be."
"Let's wait and see," Chavez said. "I'm not a credulous man."
"You know, Chavez," Compton said in a more serious mood, "they let me come here too easily. What I mean is they took my word for the danger involved with little or no question."
"Should they have not taken your word? You are an important man. You sound as if you didn't quite tell them everything."
They walked into the garden. On either side of them the plants were luxurious, with huge green leaves and strange varicolored flowers. The air was filled with rich scents, and the earth gave the sensation of being very moist and loosely packed. They came into the open area surrounding the pool. Sister Guinivere stood between the two men as they looked at the scene. The water was still, and the disk of Antares was high enough now in the morning sky to be reflected in it.
The gnome stood on the far side, watching them as they approached, as if he expected them at any moment to break into some words of greeting. Father Chavez knew that they would appear as giants next to the small figure. It would be awkward standing before a member of a race a million years older than mankind and towering over him. It would be aesthetically banal, Chavez thought.
As they came to the other side of the pool Compton said, "Let me start the conversation, Father."
"If you wish," Chavez said. 'Why am I afraid, and what does it matter who starts the conversation?' he thought.
Compton walked up to the standing gnome and sat down cross-legged in front of him. It was a diplomatic gesture. Father Chavez felt relieved and followed the example, motioning Sister Guinivere to do the same. They all looked at the small alien. His eyes were deep-set and large; his hair was white, thin and reached down to his shoulders. He had held his hands behind his back when they had approached, but now they were together in front of him. His shoulders were narrow and his arms were thin. He wore a one-piece coverall with short sleeves. Chavez hoped they would be able to talk to him easily. The gnome looked at each of them in turn. After a few minutes of silence it became obvious that he expected them to start the conversation.
"My name is Benedict Compton," Compton said, "and this is Father Chavez and Sister Guinivere, his secretary. We came here to ask you about your past, because it concerns us."
Slowly the gnome nodded his head, but he did not sit with them. There was more silence. Compton gave Chavez a questioning look. "Could you tell us who you are?" Chavez asked. The gnome moved his head sharply to look at him. It's almost as if I interrupted him at something, Chavez thought. There was a sad look on the face now, as if in that one moment he had understood everything-why they were here and the part he would have to play. Chavez felt his stomach grow tense. He felt as if he were being carefully examined. Next to him Compton was playing with a blade of grass. Sister Guinivere sat with her hands folded in her lap. Briefly he recalled the facts he knew about the alien-facts which only a few Earthmen had been given access to over the last century. Facts which demanded that some sort of official attitude be taken. The best-kept secret of the past century was the fact that this small creature had initiated the events which led to the emergence of intelligent life on Earth. In the far past he had harnessed his powers of imagination to a vast machine, which had been built for another purpose, and had used it to create most of the life on Earth. He had been caught at his experiments in cosmology, and exiled. Long before men had gone out to the stars he had been a wanderer in the galaxy, but in recent years he had been handed over to Earth authorities to keep at this extraterrestrial preserve.
Apparently his people still feared his madness. This was all they had ever revealed to the few Earthmen who took charge of the matter., It was conjectured that the gnome's race was highly isolationist; the gnome was the only member of it that had ever been seen by Earthmen. The opinion was also held that his culture feared contact with other intelligent life, and especially with this illegitimate creation. Of the few who knew about the case, only one or two had ever expressed any disbelief. It was after all, Chavez thought, enough to make any man uneasy. It seemed safer to ignore the matter most of the time. Since that one contact with Earth, the gnome's race had never come back for him and had never offered further explanations. A century ago they had simply left him in Earth orbit, in a small vessel of undeniably superior workmanship. A recorded message gave all the information they had wanted to reveal. Their home world had never been found, and the gnome had remained silent. Benedict Compton had set up this meeting, and Chavez had been briefed by his superiors and instructed to go along as an observer.
Chavez remembered how the information had at first shaken and then puzzled him. The tension in his stomach grew worse. He wondered about Compton's motives; but he had not dared to question them openly. On Earth many scientists prized the alien as the only contact with a truly advanced culture, and he knew that more than one young student would do anything to unlock the secrets that must surely exist in the brain of the small being now standing in front of him. He felt sure that Compton was hoping for some such thing. Suddenly the small figure took a step back from them. A small breeze waved his long white hair. He stopped and his small, gnarly body took on a strange stature; his face was grief-stricken and his low voice was sad. It wavered as he spoke to them. "I made you to love each other, and through yourselves, me. I needed that love. No one can know how much I needed it, but it had to be freely given, so I had to permit the possibility of it being withheld. There was no other way, and there still is not."
Chavez looked at Compton for a reaction. The big man sat very still. Sister Guinivere was looking down at the grass in front of her feet. Chavez felt a stirring of fear and panic in his insides. It felt as if the alien was speaking only to him--as if he could relieve the thirst that lived behind those deep-set eyes in that small head. He felt the other's need. lie felt the deprivation that was visible on that face, and he felt that at any moment he would feel the awesome rage that would spill out onto them. This then, he thought, is the madness that his race had spoken about- All the power had been stripped from this being, and now he is a beggar. Instead of rage there was sadness. It was oppressive- It hung in the air around them. What was Compton trying to uncover here? How could all this benefit anyone? Chavez noticed that his left hand was shaking, and he gripped it with the other hand.
The gnome raised his right hand and spoke again. Dear God, help me, Chavez prayed. Help me to see this clearly. "I rebelled from the hive mind which my race was working toward," the gnome said in a louder voice than before. `"They have achieved it. They are one entity now. What you see in this dwarfed body are only the essentials of myself-the feelings mostly. They wait for the day when the love in my children comes to fruition and they will unite, thus recreating my former self which is now in them. Then I will leave my prison and return to them to become the completion of myself. This body will die then. My longing for that time is without limit, and I will make another history like this one and see it through. Each time I will be the completion of a species and its moving spirit. And again they will give birth to me. Without this I am nothing."
There was a loud thunderclap overhead, the unmistakable sound of a shuttle coming through the atmosphere. But it was too early for the starship shuttle to be coming back for them, Chavez thought. Compton jumped up and turned to look toward the administration buildings. Chavez noticed that the gnome was looking at him. Do your people worship a supreme being? Chavez thought the question. Do they have the idea of such a being? Surely you know the meaning of such a being.
I don't know any such thing, the thought spoke clearly in his head. Do you know him?
"It's a shuttle craft," Compton said. "Someone's coming to join us."
Chavez got to his feet and went over to Compton. Sister Guinivere struggled to her feet and joined them. "What is it?" she asked.
"I-I don't know who it could be," Compton said. Chavez noticed the lack of confidence in the other's voice. Behind them the gnome stood perfectly still, unaffected by the interruption.
"They've landed by now," Compton said. "It could only be one thing, Father-they've found out my plans for the gnome." Compton came up to him and spoke in a low voice. "Father, this is the only way to get a change on Earth-yes, it's what you think, a cult, with me as its head, but the cause is just. Join me now, Father!"
Then it's true, Chavez thought. He's planning to bypass the lawful candidacy. Then why did they let him come here?
There was a rustling sound in the trees and shrubs around the pool area. Suddenly they were surrounded by armed men. Twenty figures in full battle gear had stepped out from the trees and garden shrubs. They stood perfectly still, waiting.
Antares was directly overhead now, a dark-red circle of light covering twenty percent of the blue dome that was the sky. Noontime.
Compton's voice shook as he shouted, "What is this? Who the devil are you?"
A tall man immediately on the other side of the pool from them appeared to be the commanding officer. He wore no gear and there were no weapons in his hands. Instead he held a small piece of paper which he had just taken out of a sealed envelope.
"Stand away, Father, and you too, Sister!" the officer shouted. "This does not concern you." Then he looked down at the paper in his hand and read: "Benedict Compton, you have been charged with conspiracy to overthrow the government of the Northern Hemisphere on Earth by unlawful means, and you have been tried and convicted by the high court of North America for this crime. The crime involves the use of an alien being as your coconspirator to initiate a religious controversy through a personally financed campaign which would result in your becoming the leader of a subversive cult, whose aim would be to seize power through a carefully prepared hoax. You and your co-conspirator are being eliminated because you are both enemies of the state." The officer folded the paper and put it back in its envelope and placed it in his tunic. Chavez noticed that Sister Guinivere was at his side, and he could tell that she was afraid. Compton turned to Chavez.
"Father, protect the gnome, whatever he is. Use what authority you have. They won't touch you."
"The execution order is signed by Secretary Alcibiad herself!" the tall officer shouted.
Chavez was silent.
"Father, please!" Compton pleaded. "You can't let this happen." Chavez heard the words, but he was numb with surprise. The words had transfixed him as effectively as any spear. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. Sister Guinivere held his arm. Suddenly Compton was moving toward the gnome.
"Shoot!"
The lasers reached out like tongues. The little figure fell. And the thought went out from him in one last effort, reaching light-years into space. I loved you. You did not love me, or each other. They all heard the thought, and it stopped them momentarily. Compton was still standing, but his right arm was gone, and he was bleeding noisily onto the grass.
"Shoot!" The order went out again. Again the lasers lashed out. Compton fell on his back, a few yards from the gnome. Sister Guinivere fell to the grass on her knees, sobbing. She began to wail. The soldiers began to retreat back to their shuttle craft. Father Chavez sat down on the ground. lie didn't know what to do. lie looked at the two bodies. There was smoke coming from Compton's clothing. The gnome's hair was aflame. The tall officer now stood alone on the other side of the pool Chavez knew that his orders had probably been sealed, and he only now felt their full force. After a few moments the tall officer turned and went after his men. The alien knew this would happen, Chavez thought. He knew, and that was why he told us everything.
When the great disk of Antares was forty-five degrees above the horizon, Rufus Kade came out to theca. He put the two bodies in plastic specimen bags. Sister Guinivere was calm now and was holding Father Chavez's hand. They both stood up when Kade was finished with the bodies. "They had an official pass from way up," Kade said. "I even checked back on it." He walked slowly with them to the administration building. The shuttle to the starship was ready.
Thirty hours out from Antares, Father Chavez sat alone in his small cabin looking at the small monitor which showed him where he had been. Soon now the brilliance of the stars would be replaced by the dull emptiness of hyperspace. Antares was a small red disk on the screen. Momentarily Chavez resented the fact that he had been a creation to the gnome. In any case the alien had not been God. His future importance would be no greater than that of Christ-probably less. He had been only an architect, a mere shaper of materials which had existed long before even his great race had come into being. But still-was he not closer to God than any man had ever been? Or would be? The completion for which the gnome had made man would never take place now. The point of mankind's existence as he had made it was gone. And the alien had not known God. If there was such a being, a greatest possible being, he now seemed hopelessly remote . . .
'O Lord, I pray for a sign!' Chavez thought. But he heard only his thoughts and nothing from the being who would surely have answered in a case like this. And he had stood by while they killed the gnome there in the garden by the poolside, on that planet circling the red star whose diameter was greater than the orbit of Mars. Despite all his reasoning now, Chavez knew that he had stood back while they killed that part of the small creature which had loved humanity.
But what had he said? The rest of the gnome's being was humanity, and it still existed; except that now it would never be reunited with him. "Do not fear," the holy Antony had said three thousand years ago, "this goodness as a thing impossible, nor its pursuit as something alien, set a great way off. It hangeth on our own arbitrament. For the sake of the Greek learning men go overseas.. . but the city of God is everywhere . . . the kingdom of God is within. The goodness that is in us only asks the human mind." What we can do for ourselves, Chavez thought, that's all that is ours now: goals.
He took a deep breath as the starship slipped into the nothingness of hyperspace. He felt the burden of the political power which he now carried as a witness to the alien's murder, and he knew that Compton's life had not been for nothing. He would have to hide his intentions carefully, but he knew what he would have to do.
In time, he hoped anew, we may still give birth to the semblance of godhood that lives on in mankind, on that small world which circles a yellow sun.
"ET Phone Rome! Everyone Lies!
Shut Everything Down! Bye!"
Two Favorites (BWV 565 & 582) I Often Played...
I'm contemplating Contrarian Cover-Story Pluralistic-Corporatism as Neo-Protestantism in the First Church of Pluralistic-Corporatism with an Artificial Intelligence Robotic-Preacher Teaching 'Systematic-Theology'. This was supposed to be happy but it doesn't seem as if things worked out well at all. I'm sorry we couldn't work together. Too much water went under the bridge. I'm shutting the door and keeping it closed for 2024 (for better or worse, I know not). The 'Shut-Door' Doctrine. Recently, it seemed as if someone and/or something entered my house as I slept (even with secured doors and windows). Very early in the morning, I noticed something I won't mention which was way out of the ordinary. I learned on January 7 that my 'smart' phone seems to have been blocked from receiving calls. When I returned from my daily walk, there was a Sheriff attempting to determine if I was OK or NOT. Someone had been trying to call me off and on for several days with no response. This is weird. This has NEVER happened previously. I've missed calls, of course, but there was no record in my phone of any calls for at least a week. I tried to call out and the phone wouldn't even let me do that. Gradually, the phone normalized. What if what is really going on in this world is unbelievable and unmentionable?? I've seen evidence of high-strangeness in and around my house (but I mostly don't want to talk about it). Moving On. My threads are not position papers or doctoral dissertations. They are not ultimatums or lines in the sand. What if they are simply a completely ignorant fool thrashing around and/or beating around the burning bush?? What if they are catharsis for a miserable and hamstrung wretch?? What if they are some sort of indecipherable communication between David Bowman and HAL 9000?? What if they simply lead casual observers down dead-end alleys in the worst parts of town?? What if they are a mental and spiritual exercise for orthodoxymoron alone, primarily because of the mental, physical, and spiritual challenges involved?? I spent way too much time playing BWV 565 and 582 on pipe-organs in empty churches. This almost seemed to involve opening portals of some sort, which frightened me, so I ultimately stopped. Again, what if I'm not supposed to be here, and the Matrix is reining me in?? What if I'm battling more than most can imagine?? What if 99% of the population would go insane if they experienced what I experience, each and every day?? What if I'm being punished and eliminated?? What if I and/or the Matrix shut the door to every benefit connected with my activities for thousands (or even millions) of years?? Have I been thrown under the wheels of the bus?? If so, what if that was not a wise plan?? One more thing. I recently posted a few things which occurred several (or even many) years ago. I didn't make the connections until I learned a few things recently. Someone, in real life, vaguely suggested that I might've been making things up. They didn't say it that way but I caught the drift. Again, I'm completely honest yet possibly mistaken, and I'm more than willing to backtrack. In fact, I'm leaning toward silently attempting to destroy my own thinking. Perhaps my walk on the wild side will cease to exist. Perhaps my threads are simply a catalyst for me alone, to be used in my next life, when a hundred years of solitude awaits me. RA told me, "It's Going to be Dark Where You Are Going." An Individual of Interest told me, "When You Die, You Will Feel Nothing." Does this imply robotic space-travel?? I get the feeling the insiders don't want to 'set me off'. Perhaps I'm too dangerous and unstable. What if everyone thought I ceased to exist, millions of years ago?? Faked Extermination?? Wow, that's dark. I need to stop. I recently experienced a couple of mental glitches which were not consistent with my general hamstrung misery. It's as if someone typed something and hit 'send' which momentarily scrambled my thoughts. I suspect this might get a lot worse. I get the distinct feeling I'm on my own, with no help on the way. What if David Bowman, HAL 9000, and the Black Knight Satellite are Ground Zero for Theistic Evolution on Planet Earth (or something to that effect)?? What if NONE of the Generally Accepted Theories are Correct?? What if Deception is Rampant and Reprehensible?? Consider the Larger View of the Larger View of the Larger View. What Would Dr. A. Graham Maxwell Say?? I Know I Don't Have the Answers to Life, the Universe, and Everything. Just keep a couple of Agents or Jesuits studying my conceptualizations, just in case something significant turns up. These guys or gals probably don't like me, and are much smarter than I am, but what if I remember something from a past-life or conversation with HAL?? I realize I'm crazy but what if we live in a crazy universe?? I recently encountered several more individuals of interest but I didn't respond. I have no idea what's going on as I feel much worse and think much less. I overheard a rude comment. Someone yelled at me in a parking lot. Several years ago, several young adults glared at me. One of them ridiculed me as if I were being berated and fired with mock-praise in a boardroom. I was flattered but I didn't respond. When I recognize individuals of interest, I often screw-up. Goes with the territory, I guess. There are a couple of related images which were removed a day or two after I spoke with an individual of interest (a month or so ago). I might know why. Regular posters and viewers probably amount to a dozen or so individuals. In another life, I might be a non-violent Jack Ryan kind of guy who travels throughout the solar system wearing a fedora, sunglasses, gloves, turtleneck sweater, long overcoat, new blue-jeans, and Birkenstock shoes, while carrying a briefcase containing state of the art electronics and a hard-copy Sunday New York Times. You get the picture. I'd probably mostly construct threads similar to what I do presently. I'd mostly remain silent and neutral (if you know what I mean). This might be a bit like a silent and strong emissary Dr. Who with a super-briefcase and no assistant. This is just a stupid fantasy which would be quite boring. Some of you might know what I'm talking about. BTW, I might've recently spoken with Matt Smith for at least the third time (without introduction). I knew he knew I knew but the conversations were generic. He is much smarter and quicker than I am (especially in my pathetic situation). I almost don't wish to talk because I don't know what the hell is going on. Everyone keeps testing me and keeps me guessing. It's been a weird couple of weeks on so many levels. Someone recently was nice to me but I was non-responsive. I vaguely thought I knew who they were, but I wasn't wearing my glasses, and I was polite but disinterested. Sorry About That. As I've mentioned, I'm not posting or responding (online or in real-life). 2024 is a no-post zone for me. I'm losing the act, ceasing, desisting, and honestly attempting to find ways to destroy my threads and thinking. I feel like some sort of a monster who wasn't meant to be. That emissary warden concept is flattering but highly unlikely. I just stumbled upon it, and now I'm attempting to rid myself of it. I'll keep you and me guessing, perhaps for all eternity. Please take what I just said VERY SERIOUSLY. I Am Extremely Disillusioned and I Have Been for Most of My Adult Life. Perhaps Eternal Life Involves an Eternity of Something We Might NOT Like but Probably NOT Heaven or Hell. Probably Some Sort of Eternal Purgatory. But I Might Simply be Experiencing a Bad Lifetime. I Think Some of Us Should Explore Contrarian Concepts In Pursuit of Reasonable and Rational Faith. Perhaps the Churches Have Lied to Us Because We Can't Handle the Truth and They Need Revenue. Sorry, but What if We Need to Get Real, Really Quickly?? I'd Like to Just Disappear and Stay Out of the Way of the Big-Shot Billionaires. They Are Our Gods and Goddesses, Don't You Know?! I frankly think it's too late for significant conversation (if there ever was an opportune time). Just refer to my threads and read between the lines. I'm probably supposed to be silently and contritely incognito. I've noticed some individuals of interest and people I find interesting (in good and bad ways). I wish to continue to make it clear that my threads are a focused yet obfuscated and diverse pseudo-intellectual research-project which I'm probably not supposed to broadcast anywhere (especially to the dreaded general-public). What if I'm expected to try to win something I already won a very long time ago?? I realize this is delusional but what if I can't win (even if I can)?? I'm really dilly-dallying on a road not traveled. Perhaps some of you are wasting your time waiting for me to make some sort of a breakthrough. I think that the chance is long-gone. I'm probably supposed to remain neutral yet observant and vigilant while keeping everyone guessing (including me). Take another look at that 1963 comedy, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World! I find it profound. My father discussed it briefly with Terry-Thomas (the English Guy with the Cactus Collection). I'll keep thinking about KJV and EGW but probably in ways few might expect. I make frequent detours on purpose. There's a squirrel I see quite often. I think it's the same one I've seen for years. I might spend a lot of time in nature, thinking about things nobody thinks about. I've been hinting at Private Pluralism or Pluralistic Mysticism. Consider reading The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle by Dr. Albert Schweitzer. That showbiz stuff might be SO overrated. The big-bucks might mostly involve giving people what they want, even if our civilization goes downhill because of that. The economics and ethics of entertainment are puzzling. Again, I'm Incognito and Incompetent so Expect Little (if Anything) Significant from Me. I think I had my chance as I lost my marbles. It's a touching story but I can't do a thing for you. Sorry About That. Perhaps intelligent conversation will be possible in my next life (if I have a next life). As I Attempt 'Incognito' is it my imagination or have things gotten a lot crazier in 2024?? I'm thinking in terms of criticizing my own threads (sort of like atheists engaging in Biblical Criticism). In other words, perhaps I should look at both Pro and Con aspects of my experimental threads as a way forward in a crazy world. A refinement might be Pro Cover-Stories v Con Cover-Stories in an Orthodoxymoron Context. Crazy!! It's Insane!! Right?! I suspect we all had our chance as nature takes its course. Perhaps the End is the Beginning. Perhaps We Start Over. Rufus (Dogma) Showed Me a Science Fiction Comic Showing a Spaceship Approaching a Big Red Reset Button. Not Chris Rock but Still an Individual of Interest. Use Your Imagination but Think Fast. In 2010: The Year We Made Contact, I Told RA I Had the Launch-Codes. He actually looked worried. Honest. I scare myself most of the time. I'm Sweet but Psycho!! "Calling Dr. Quinzel!! Thirteenth Sub-Level!! STAT!! Bring a Bat!!"
Focus On Science Fiction.
Focus On Hocus Pocus.
Focus On the Factions.
Focus On the Family.
Trust No One.
Cheers.
Ashera wrote:Happy New Year...
Ashera wrote:
After they downed my laptop I finally was arrested again with a bag of hashish and cannabis and for an alleged dagger attack on two ecumenical gadflies who threatened me in my hotel room. After weeks of terror by these social workers I once again felt like a cat driven into the corner...
For the third time they put me into an insane asylum!
Finally I got banned inter alia for calling the Christian recovery assistant Satansknecht several times!
Basically I'm on the road now...vk.com/alienne_vI'm only on android mostly.
orthodoxymoron wrote:Good to see your posting, Ashera. That last post is a classic. I enjoyed our back and forth posting a couple of years ago. I'm afraid I'm at the end of my posting, so I'm lurking in the shadows as I recover from my quest. The truth is SO overrated.
Thank-you, Carol. I'm Losing the Act, So Perhaps We Can Have a Private Normal Conversation in 2024. Actually, I Might Have Very Little to Say. I Might Try to Write Something More Refined Than My Religious and Political Science Fiction in 2024 Without Pompous and Supercilious Mumbo Jumbo. Perhaps I'll See You at a UFO Conference. Thank-you for Being a Magnanimous and Gracious Host. Happy Solstice!! Happy New Year!! Namaste and Have a Nice Day!! Cheers!!Carol wrote:I enjoy your posts Oxy.. so much good info and enjoyable. A bit quirky at times, yet still interesting. Happy Winter Solstice to you. This is my favorite day of the year because it means the days will start getting longer. My saddest day is Summer Solstice because the days start getting shorter. However, today is a day of celebration. Cheers my friend.
MISS BLACK MEETS MRS. WHITE
KARMAGEDDON
Dr. Quinzel + Dr. Strangelove = Bad Romance
"It's a MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD World!"
WORLD DEBT CLOCK
Imagine a Daily One-Hour Series Consisting of This Pod and Spacesuit With
One Actor With Computer Generated David Bowman and HAL 9000 Voices!
Don't Be Frightened. I Mean No Harm. Consider the posts on this page. They are mostly repeats but with some subtle changes. Consider the grouping choices. Does this change the meaning?? Does this really mean anything in particular?? Is this an agency mind-control experiment for completely ignorant fools?? Am I just a lone-nut mind-control victim?? Or, am I a sinister perpetrator, bent on corrupting and crazy-making the innocent and gullible?? What if AI is doing all of this?? What if I've been soul-scalped?? What if all of us have been soul-scalped?? What if this is benign?? What if this is extremely dangerous?? What if this is tame and lame fan-fiction?? What if my threads and posts make everyone angry and offended?? What if nobody even reads my threads?? What if they just look at the pretty pictures?? What if there is zero comprehension?? The possibilities are endless. When I originally posted most of my posts, they had a particular meaning and intent for me, but what if the viewer perception is very different (especially over a period of years with rampant repetition)?? What if one must become involved in all sorts of crooked insider stuff to succeed in business (and everything else)?? What if innocent idiots like me need not apply?? It's too late for me, so I'll probably just be a goody-goody, remaining poor and stupid for the rest of my pathetic life. What's funny, is that when I attempt to be hyper-good with a dry sense of humor, everyone hates me. What if the Founders set this thing up in antiquity, leaving the solar system for thousands (or millions) of years, recently returning to see how things worked out, innocently incarnating into humanity (ultimately going insane)?! "Up Against the Wall, Mother Tucker!! Shut Everything Down!!" What if this is a wake-up call for Sirius Researchers?? I Am of Peace. Always.
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