Tag Archives: space

Folding Space and other Tales

         [voice from the other side – by Sha’Tara]
    Parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.” (The Mountains are in labour, a ridiculous mouse is born.) – Horace
   
“A beginning is a very delicate time…  In this time the most precious substance in the universe is the spice mélange… The spice extends life; the spice expands consciousness; the spice is vital to space travel.  The Spacing Guild and its navigators whom the spice has mutated for thousands of years use the orange spice gas which gives them the ability to fold space – which means travel to any part of the universe without moving. (Excerpt from Princess Irulan’s “Opening” – Dune – by Frank Herbert)
    Some may remember the movie, “Phenomenon.”  At the time the movie came out, I was asked, “The light George Malley saw, where did it come from?” (I’ll get back to that)
    I had a dream some time ago, location a “parallel earth” – same as this one in general aspect, but containing serious differences.  In this dream I was looking for an animal that was a cross between a squirrel, a cat and a rabbit.  I did not believe such things existed, yet I saw them.  I took a picture of one with a digital camera (in the dream – I don’t have it to put on this screen unfortunately ) and was almost able to pet the animal.  There were many people in this world I recognized, though none of them live on this Earth. 
 
   Where is this “parallel Earth”?  Where does that particular reality reside in space?  If we answer, “It does not – it’s just a dream” – then how is it we can interact with it with such detail?  Where do dreams come from?  Who does the elaborate “staging” so we can just walk in and experience it all as if it were home?
    How did Frank Herbert perceive his characters “folding space” and traveling to any part of the known universe without moving?  How do you move something without moving it?  Does it come to you, or do you go to it?
(This reminds me of the saying, “if the mountain will not come to Mohamed, then Mohamed will have to go to the mountain.”)
 
    Our type of life exists as a blatant, in your face, contradiction.  Some call it polarity.  Opposites.  It doesn’t matter what you call it – it’s the contradiction that makes it real.  So real we lose track of the contradiction and create mountains from mole-hills – our sacrosanct belief systems.  We are infested with belief systems, every single one a complete brainwash.  We can’t see the forest for the trees and we spend our precious illusory ‘moments’ going through the invisible (indivisible) forest, counting trees, deciding which are good, which are bad, cutting some down, planting others, sawing them up into lumber and building our castles in Spain; sad remnants of consensus-driven belief systems.
    Eventually, our limiting belief systems based on body-maintenance energy tell us that the “forest” is running out and in our quest for “new” sources of energy we move from trees to coal, to crude oil, to electricity, to hydrogen, to whatever – each a limiting and destructive concept of energy misuse.  We cannot see that the “forest” did not get destroyed – it simply disappeared into the mists of Avalon where our Matrix-induced lives cannot go. 
    As we move deeper into the illusion of the physical, the mists that hide reality thicken and we simply turn away thinking we’ve seen to the end and there’s nothing beyond.  Sure, we can  plunder a limited-concept world of its resources.  We can, through belief systems imposed upon a mute world condemn billions to horrible death, but can we plunder life itself?
 
   George saw a light that struck him down to the pavement.  It came from the stars, but the canopy of stars were in his head – part of the great consensual belief system that sustains people in this world.  By introducing the “alien” in his thought patterns, everything changed for him.  Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to deal with it – it overloaded his brain circuits and he died.  He saw too much, too fast, of a reality not bound by his Earthian consensus beliefs.  He became a mutant without shores.  The new world he interacted with was too big, did not have the necessary boundaries his will demanded and it tore him apart.  To survive such an “awakening” one must have spent a lifetime learning to detach from consensus reality, even while functioning within it without violating its basic rules – being a fringe dweller by choice.
 
   The Space Guild Navigators “folded” space by using what George could not.  They had learned to transcend consensus reality to some degree and to  superimpose a greater reality of their own upon it – that of “distance” as a mind concept.  They became adepts at this and were able to bring “things” into their reality in order to “move” them from point to point.  The object to be transported was brought into the greater navigator mind (dream), and “translated” instantly in the other part of reality in the navigator’s mind (or dream) – the part agreed upon earlier where the object wished to be.  Nothing moved.  A reality shift, that’s all.
    Once the “translation” was accomplished, the object was again in its smaller, space-bound reality.  If it left planet “A” and traveled to planet “D” 20 light years away, it believed it had actually “traveled” that entire distance because of some strange power kept secret by the Space Guild navigators.  The object (person) could not return to planet “A” without going through the Space Guild or, if the technology existed to physically travel “real” space with a machine, or ship, at the speed of light and finding everything on planet “A” now twenty years older.
   Yet even so, the spacing guild was itself a slave.  Every guild navigator was a total spice addict.  Without the spice, the navigator was blind in space.  Yes, even the ability to fold space was but a mountainous effort giving birth of a ridiculous mouse; on par with the (did they, or didn’t they?) Apollo moon landings and moon walks.
    I knew someone working with a concept called “the law of attraction.”  That supposed “law” only works for those who write and sell books, or make movies, about it.  It’s just another aspect of religious faith.  Isn’t it interesting that something so basic to the workings of life’s contradictory flow would be so little understood?  That any power that can be called “the law of attraction” or “faith” resides within my own mind, nowhere else? 
     That is as it should be when those we trust to be teachers are bound brain, hand and foot to quantifiable observations, even when they speak holy, invoking divinities and/or spirits.  They have no imagination because long ago they bought the Matrix lie that imagination is for children and is useless in the day-to-day workings of the “real” world.  These “teachers” then become the living dead, zombies bound by their lesser reality of a physical universe that exists only in a tiny part of their mind – the part their brain can electrically interact with and be affected by.  Everything else of necessity must remain myth, fiction, fantasy; the unreality of dreams not understood.
    To travel in space you must leave the old verbal garbage behind: God talk, country talk, mother talk, love talk, party talk. You must learn to exist with no religion, no country, no allies. You must learn to live alone in silence.” — William S. Burroughs
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Do you understand the charges against you?

[short story – by Sha’Tara]

At first it just caused a bit of stir locally and I wouldn’t have thought much of it if I hadn’t been goaded by my brother to follow up on the case.  “There’s something here that needs exposure” he told me.

An unknown woman had been arrested for practicing medicine without a license.  Well, in the current wave of political uncertainty, and, OK, let’s call a spade a spade, craziness, that in itself should not have merited a packed court room.

But it did.  Let me tell you the story as I witnessed some of it, participated in some and as the rest was told to me by a source.

My name is Keith Darbour.  I’m a free lance reporter – my passion – but I hold “real” jobs to pay the bills.  Freelance reporting these days of national paranoia and corporate press ownership and control isn’t what it used to be.  I mean, hell, this used to be thought of as a free country.  I can tell you, that is no longer the case.  But I digress.  Back to the case.

As I said, the courtroom is packed.  “All rise.”  Judge Judy Kean sits at her desk.  There is only one item on her agenda today.  The defendant, a young, tall and slim woman with long wavy dark hair and exotic skin enters between two female guards.  She sits at the prisoner’s dock.  The prelims over, the jury having already been selected, both lawyers make their opening statements.  Basically, the State: practicing medicine without a license.  The defence: extenuating circumstances.

I’ll make my prelims short.  There was a bus accident.  Several people were injured, some seriously.  It was thought a child was even dead.  The defendant (so it is assumed at this point) arrived on the scene and provided first aid and more.  The victims, some now present in the court room as witnesses, claimed that she was able to reach inside their bodies, reset bones, stop haemorrhaging, heal severe tears in skin almost instantly and calm the rest.  Every person affected in the accident walked away healed.  Ambulances and police came, of course, but it became clear at the outset that none of the victims required further help, and many even loudly and vociferously refused such help.

The woman was arrested for healing, oh, excuse me, “practicing medicine” without a license and jailed.  Today is her trial.  Let’s see what comes of this hard to believe situation.  Let’s see how evolved we are, as a society, as a civilization.

Prosecution approaches the defendant and asks her name.

“Under your name rules, translated to the best of my ability, my name is A-125-04-H.  I believe your police erroneously entered my name as Alice Haley.  If you wish, I can use that name.”

“We want your real name, miss.  Can you give us that?”

“I did that, sir.  My name is A-125-04-H”

“Very well, please explain what that means for the court.”

“Certainly sir.  I am Android, series 125, batch 04, category: Healer.  That is what I am, and what I am programmed by my makers, to perform.  I was built to heal whenever I encountered damage to sentient life.  That is what I am and I cannot change that programming, even if I wanted to, which of course I would not.”

Judge: “Do you understand miss Haley what ‘contempt of court’ means? Do you understand that the court has authority over you here as long as you remain a suspect in a very serious crime?”

“Yes I understand that very well, but I must make a clarification to your claim of authority over me.  You have jurisdiction, but not authority, unless I grant you that right, and I must make it very clear that my programming prevents me from doing so.  Therefore I state: you have no authority over me.  Only my programmers do.”

Titters ran through the crowd.  The judge rapped her gavel, “Order.  Any more interruptions and I will clear this court.”  I can tell you she sounded very annoyed and her anger was barely restrained.

“Young lady, I have full authority in this courtroom, including over you.  I have the authority to stop this and have you returned to jail pending an appeal.  Is that what you want?  I won’t have people making fun of this court, or me, understand?”

“Yes, I understand of course.  What I don’t understand is why the truth appears to be such an obstacle to getting on with the facts surrounding my arrest.  Isn’t that why I’m here?  I tell you the truth, witnesses corroborate, and the judgment must be that I be set free.  My “crime” your honour, is practising medicine without a licence.  But it’s my nature to heal damaged life; my programming is my license….”

Gavel again.  “Stop.  You will not turn this courtroom into a circus.  We will have you tell us your real name or you will be in contempt and you will go to a psychiatric institution for observation.  Is that clear?”

Prosecution: “May I continue, your honour?”

Judge: “Yes.”

“Miss Haley, I’ll take that to be your maiden name, where do you live?”

“Galactic quadrant C-5, planet Abergani.  It’s all in my implant but there is no technology here that can read it.  I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do.”

“Do you do drugs, miss Haley?”

“I understand what your question means.  In that sense the answer is no, I don’t.  Androids do not ingest either for sustenance or self-pleasuring.  It would negatively affect our metabolism.”

“You continue to claim you are an android.  Does this mean you are not human?”

“Yes.  I am essentially a machine.  I am not human, as you understand the term.”

“Uhuh!” Turns to the jury with a sarcastic smile and a shrug.  Smiles from the jurors.  “How did you get here?”

“Best guess, an error or a miscalculation in the part of those who sent me out to help in a disaster in quadrant D-8.  This, according to my calculations, is quadrant Y-17, sol system X-092, and this is called planet Tiam-2, which you call “earth.  Oh, there’s been a disaster in a country you call Yemen – I should be going there now – may I be excused?”

Smiling broadly, the prosecutor states, “This isn’t a classroom, miss.  Just sit there and answer my questions.”

“But people are dying.  I could be saving their lives now.  I’m being conflicted in my response to programming.  Oh, wait.  I do not need to obey you, you are not human – only pseudo-human.  I can leave.”

“No, sorry but… where did she go?”

I need not add, the court exploded in complete disarray.  The defendant literally faded in front of over one hundred people who were all looking at her.  But that wasn’t going to be the end of it because some moments later “Alice” re-appeared.  There was slight smile on her small but perfect face.  She seemed completely at peace.

“I’m sorry about that interruption.  I just had to go and help.  It’s taken care of for now.  Please continue.”   I could barely hear her over the hubbub but finally everybody settled and it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

“How did you do that little disappearing trick?”

“I did not disappear sir, I cannot do that.  I simply shifted dimensionally.  It’s easily enough done over tiny distances like the circumference of a planet.  I only had to shift over half-way, manipulate your time, perform my duty and return.”

“Why did you not “shift dimensionally” and leave the jail then?”

“I did.  Many times.  If I may say so sir, madam judge, your world is in a terrible mess.  You must do something about all the pain and death your species inflicts on itself and on other life forms.  This is a very unhealthy state of affairs that will not bode you well in the near future.”

Judge, still not recovered from the shock of having a defendant simply disappear from the prisoner’s dock, then reappear a few moments later, stares at the defendant.  “Miss Haley, will you promise to remain here while I confer in chambers?”

“Yes.”

“In chambers – now, and I mean now.  No, no notes!”  (The following I got from the defence counsel later in the day.)

In chambers, Judge Kean:  “Can either of you explain this circus act to me?  Am I being made fun of here?  Who is the escape artist in the dock?”

Prosecutor: “My question also judge.  We’re being played here, question is, who’s behind this, and what’s the point?”

Defence: “Come on.  You saw it for yourselves.  She disappeared and came back.  She’s smart, sure of herself, rattles off information that’s obviously real to her.  What if she’s exactly what she says she is?”

Judge: “Is there a way we can prove it?”

Defence: “Two that come to mind.  Check the computer, what’s going on in Yemen.  How about we ask her to seriously cut herself and watch her heal herself?”

Judge: “Well, here’s the situation.  There was a bombing of a school in Yemen about half an hour ago.  There was apparently much carnage but after some minutes all of the victims walked out of the wreckage as if nothing happened.  They all refused medical help and went to their respective homes.  There is even a picture here of a woman walking among the ruins of the school but she’s wearing the mandatory hijab with which she covers part of her face.  Can’t be identified.  Doesn’t that sound a lot like the bus accident though? Same reaction from the healed victims.  OK, as much as I hate grandstanding, this can only be resolved with a demonstration.  I’ll ask her to cut herself and heal herself.  Let’s just see what her reaction to that will be.”

Judge re-entering the court.  “Thank you for your patience.  We will now ask for a demonstration that will tell us if the defendant is in fact telling the truth, or making a mockery of this court.  Alice Haley, please stand.”

The woman stood, still with that completely peaceful look on her face.  Waiting.

Judge: “I’m going to ask you to prove yourself to me, to the jury and this entire court.  I want you to take the knife that will be given to you and to slice your arm open.  Then I want you to heal yourself so we can all see.  Can you do that, “Android”?

Alice: “It isn’t a question of whether I can, or cannot.  Of course I can do that.  The problem is, self-harming is against my programming.  I cannot do it, however much I’d want to.  Someone else will have to cut my arm, and I will then demonstrate my healing skills for you.”

“Assuming you are telling us the truth, and we checked up on your Yemen story which seems to validate what you told us,  then I will ask for a volunteer to cut your arm.  Anyone?”

I can assure you there were no takers.  Who in any kind of right mind would walk up to a passive young woman and simply cut her arm open, just to prove a point?  Nuts, right?  I looked over the courtroom to see if anyone would have the courage to volunteer.  And I thought, well, that includes me, doesn’t it.   … Me…  Do I have the guts to do such a thing?  Come on, somebody, volunteer, I thought, but no one did.  So it was down to me, Keith Darbour, freelance journalist and private investigator.  I got up slowly.  “Seems like no one is volunteering so maybe, I mean, I think I should then.”

“Thank you.  Your name sir?”

“Keith Darbour, your honour.”

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of you somewhere.  You’re a journalist?”

“Yes your honour.”

“Would you come down here please, and do as you are asked to?”  I was in it now, couldn’t back out.  I was handed a wicked looking hunting knife – who knows where that came from! – and told to stand beside the defendant.  She looked at me and smiled as she lifted her left arm so I could grab her wrist.  I was shaking like a leaf in the wind until she put her right hand on my shoulder and suddenly everything seemed all right, normal.  I lay the knife on the lovely skin and slashed across veins and tendons.  There was no explosion of blood, just some clear liquid flowing out slowly.  She took her arm from my grip and wrapped her right hand around the “wound” and when she removed her hand there was no sign of the cut.  She was still smiling as if the whole thing was a bit of a joke.  Which to her it must have been.  Such primitives, she must have thought.

Judge: “Raise your left arm, please, miss Haley.”  She did and turned it around for all to see that there was no harm done at all.  She had never screamed, never expressed any pain, not even winced while I slashed her.  It was, well, amazing?  More, it was a revelation.

So what could they do but let her go?  They knew they couldn’t hold her in any case; that she wasn’t doing any harm, quite the opposite.  Now you’re probably wondering, assuming you believe this tale, where she is at the moment.  What can I tell you?  I wanted to interview her but she “disappeared” almost as soon as she was told she was free to go.  I tried to locate her through the Internet alternative media, looking for some weird news about mass healings somewhere, anywhere, but found nothing certain.  Rumours and more rumours, and huge “alternate facts” spin-outs from the court hearing.  Do yourselves a favour: don’t tune in the Alex Jones’ Infowars for information, he’s got hold of the court story and has gone deeper down his rabbit hole than ever before.
What do I think?  I like to think that she’s not only out there, healing people and teaching compassion, but calling more of her kind to assist her.  We could do with more of her kind practicing medicine without a license.  In fact we could do with more of our own kind doing the same thing because these days, really, it seems rather obvious that having the license and charging for services rates much higher than actually having any healing success.  By success I mean that after the medical coteries are done with you, you should be thoroughly healed, not become a crippled dependent on more “specialists” and drugs, ’til death do us part, Amen.

 

Questions and dreams

…dreams, from   ~burning woman~ …by Sha’Tara

Questions that have remained unanswered for me: should dreams be shared with others?  Should they remain as “private” information?  Are they meant to explain other realities to individuals, or to collectives?  Are they part of the the great “collective unconscious”?  Information given by “others out there” as warnings?  Or simply how our memories, when the body is resting, are re-formatted by the mind to be stored in permanent “hard disk” space?

And speaking of space, I like to think that dreams are like space: if it’s only for me, what a waste!
 
Especially if one has spent a lifetime learning how to dream, how to retrieve the information imparted there, even something as simple as remembering them.  Especially after learning to assimilate day-time and night-time information to create a whole new paradigm of understanding.
 
So, about those dreams:
 
Some time ago I had a wild and crazy series of dreams – could have been just one dream covering many scenes and sequences too.  The main part takes place on a meadow and grassy fields bordered to the east by a barb-wire fence, to the north by oil refineries on a river and to the west by open country.
 
I stand at the south, facing north.
 
The skies are slate grey, dark.  A violent storm is blowing, but not a normal wind storm, or hurricane, though the movement of the air is just as great or worse.  Best comparison would be a wind tunnel with a giant fan.  The “wind” is blowing from the west, carrying anything and everything with it.  Nothing is left standing in its path.  I see grass, trees, clothing, unrecognizable material things and sheep.  Yes, sheep.  Blowing in the wind and being thrown violently into the barb wire fence.  One is still alive and struggling to free itself but cannot.  It has a reed branch pushed sideways through its nose and is trying to push it out with its hoof, unsuccessfully.  Gradually, the animal is “emptied” until only a head and skin are left hanging on the wires.  White strips of clothing are also ripping and tearing from the barbs and blowing away.
 
I hear voices, as of people talking from a distance.  They are speaking of a “pollution storm” and how they should have known it was coming and done something about it.  Then I realize that the “sheep” are really people, or better put “sheeple” — who did not care, did not hear, refused to hear and are now being ripped apart by this “storm” that is anything but natural.
 
I hear the voices again and they are saying: “We thought the Middle East would have invaded and taken over by now.  Wonder why they have not?”  But as I looked to the oil refineries, especially at the tall stacks painted a dark, dull, red and black, I notice the lettering on them is Arabic.  And again, I realized how the “take-over” was done, not by ordinary people from the Middle East, but by the oil consortiums and I see the connection between the refineries blowing their smoke into the air, and the “pollution storm” that is destroying everything.
 
I’m unable to truly portray the intensity of this event.  I remember feeling a sense of deadness, of deep sadness, knowing that for years the people had been warned of something like this; knowing that it was all preventable with a bit of common sense, some sacrifice and will-power.  But the people had been led down the garden path of commercial lies; of bodily comfort at any price and had never learned to reach out to the oppressed who supplied the pre-pollution storm “good life”.
 
So, I think such a dream is really a prophecy in simple symbols. 
 
The next dream:  I am standing in space looking up.  I see the moon and the earth further out, at about the same distance away as I am from the moon.  Both are incredibly beautiful, reflecting fully the light of the sun.
 
The information I have is that the moon’s orbit has begun to decay and in a short time the moon will lose it’s ability to remain aloft and go crashing into the earth.  Again voices, people around me talking.  We have decided to attempt to “prop-up” the moon’s orbit to prevent it from crashing into the planet.  In my hands and around me are “spacers” – those flat metal objects we use in venders to correct the spacing between different sizes of cans or bottles and prevent double vends or jams.  I’m looking at these familiar things and working out a plan to use them in this endeavor.
 
Then I begin to understand the significance of these “spacers” — I am not standing “in space” but observing from a space station, or space ship.  The “spacers” are us, not the objects.  We have come together as people of “space” to prevent a catastrophe, if possible. 
 
Our feelings are quite normal, professional you might say.  No fear, no excitement, no despair.  It’s as if this situation is not uncommon and we’ve done this before.  It’s just a matter of calculating the forces and creating new force-fields to replace those that are collapsing.  Yet we are not calloused about the situation and we know that much depends on the people of the planet if it is to survive.  We cannot do this thing alone.  We can provide the technology but we cannot “DECIDE” the outcome, that is we cannot provide the collective planetary will energy that is absolutely necessary for the success of our efforts on behalf of the people of earth.  And we certainly feel empathy for all the life involved here.  The empathy is not, for the most part, reciprocated from the planet’s surface.  And our chances of success correspondingly diminish.
 
After I woke up and shook off some of the heavier energies surrounding this event I realized once more how much “detachment” is mis-understood here.  Earthians hear “detachment” and sense “I don’t care”.  But as the dream showed, the “spacers” (including me) who would save this world cared a great deal more than the people on the planet.  They could really care because they were detached about the outcome.  They had nothing to lose or gain, whether they failed or succeeded.  Either way, they would go on to other duties in “space”.  So… they could focus on the problem fully.
 
Many more details, other events in-between, but this is already too long a read for most.

The True Legacy of Living on Time

                     [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

      I have seen immortality.  I have sensed it bouncing from the walls of time, and in my mind when I broke free from the induced trance and looked back, I have seen what the actual world of the immortals looks like.  It is a terrible thing to behold. 

     The following is an attempt at explaining how “time” came about; why we are trapped in its effects and why it makes us feel death.  

This is but an illustration:
    In the endless expanse of what is called space, one can look in every imaginable direction.  One can travel every conceivable type of path to every conceivable place.  When I looked in the direction I had wrenched my thoughts from, I saw a square box floating lazily in space, turning slowly, it’s surface glinting as mother-of-pearl but harshly (by comparison to other events out there) when light touched its surface.  That square box is what is known as the world of the immortals, or the gods.  It is the Time Lords’ artificial creation, or construct.  It is this universe and there is but one single purpose for its design: to control the flow of life by trapping energy and imprisoning the minds of sentient life forms within it.  Sentience is what they feed on.  If this universe is correctly measured in time at 14 billion years, then that is how long these entities have been “eating” life in this universe.   

    Way back before time, the entities we call “Time Lords” did not have such a baleful title then.  They came together as they traveled through the cosmos and came to believe themselves as the most powerful beings extant, therefore believing themselves entitled to guide creation.  Their concept, which Earthians so well know, was to develop a way of absolute control over the flow of life.

    When they discovered they could exert little control over the open Cosmos, and such control kept breaking up, they invented a system which they called “time” and everything within their system became bound by time.  To the Time Lords (TL’s) nothing that exists outside time is real.  Their invented reality depends entirely on time, using time to control space.

    In the beginning, before the “box” became a completely closed system, energy from the Cosmos flowed in and through the box relatively freely.  That is why you can still see events within the box that resemble those outside: revolving units of stars, gaseous clouds, galaxies, and you can sense that you belong within something called “the universe” but with a definite sense that such is “bound” to a return loop with a beginning and an end.  Seen this way it is easier to understand why “we” would “see” the beginning of this universe as a “big bang” event and why we can also predict the end of the universe.  These are not natural, but artificial events we are measuring and looking at.  

    You see, in order to control all events, from beginning to end, the “box” or “Time Universe” had to be closed off from new thoughts; from “infection” of radical free ideas floating freely through the cosmos.  To counteract their loss of infinite life the TL’s invented what they called “immortality” or the idea that physical / material bodies could be kept alive quasi-forever. 

    In infinity, the concept of immortality is meaningless as life flows in and out of things freely, unbound.  Infinity is an open-ended concept.  Immortality however, bears a major flaw:  the TL’s were about to discover the deadly effects of something that happened as an effect of an energetic closed system: the problem of *entropy.  What our time-trapped minds call “death.”

      It is true that no energy can be gained or lost within the time system.  It can only be manipulated until such “end time” when the system reaches its inevitable state of *entropy, the death of a closed system when all of its available energy has been converted and all movement ceases.  That is the eventual demise of the prison of time which will cause the dissolution of the Time Lords themselves.  When their power ends, they end, for they have inextricably bound themselves to their concept in order to control it and they can no longer escape it.

     Obviously, they did not know this in the beginning, prior to their madness, or they chose to ignore whatever warnings they may have received.  Just as obviously they are doing everything in their power to prevent this end.  How do I know this?  I was taught a very handy rule about how things work: observe and think, as below, so above.  All I need do is observe how this world’s major empires drive themselves into perdition in a vain attempt to hold on to their global hegemony; to their claim to the lion’s share of this world’s resources, read: energy.  A prime example of this today, the United States of America and its satellite slave states, particularly Canada, much of Europe, Israel and Australia.  This empire is drowning in a sea of debt, dwindling natural resources and anthropocentric climate change which it insists on denying.  To counter this deadly entropy it does what all great empires of the past were forced to do: launch more and more wars against a world that it has turned into an enemy.  The empire and its satellites now exist in a permanent, life denying state of war against nature and against all of humanity. Those wars will only end when the empire’s alliances break apart and it dies.   

     So it is in the universal empire of the Time Lords.  Their “security state” energy shields will break down from entropy.  Their kingdoms, their great halls, their heavens and their hells — all will “freeze over” to be re-absorbed as energy and transformed.  The great universal empire will break apart in truly apocalyptic events, turning itself inside-out and everything in its prisons, including its trillions of sentient slaves, will be released to re-discover freedom once again.  

“Time not important, only life important!” (The Fifth Element)”

“If you really want to stay the same age you are now, forever and ever, she’d be thinking, try jumping off the roof: death’s a sure-fire method for stopping time.” (The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood)

“…Because today we live in a society in which spurious realities are manufactured by the media, by governments, by big corporations, by religious groups, political groups. So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes…”  Philip K Dick, “How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later,” 1978.

*Entropy:  a process of degeneration marked variously by increasing degrees of uncertainty, disorder, fragmentation, chaos, etc.; specif., such a process regarded as the inevitable, terminal stage in the life of a social system or structure – entropy always increases and available energy diminishes in a closed system, as the universe. (Webster’s dictionary)

A Star Dancer Speaks

Have you ever wondered what “listening to the voices of the dead” and “hearing the music of the spheres” have in common?

When you look in the night sky, what do you see?  Stars?  Yes, mostly stars for only stars emit enough light to travel those quasi-unfathomable distances of space to twinkle in this earth’s little firmament. 

What does that twinkling represent?  A sort of Morse code, yes?  The “spheres” talking to us, perhaps calling some of us back; reminding us that we are not utterly lost as we walk in weak finiteness on a dark non-star matter world that can only reflect a sun’s light.  For we are the star dancers, beings of eternal combustion, burning to give light, as did our ancient worlds of origin.

If you know yourself to be a star dancer, do you know the language; the music, from your starry worlds?  Do you remember any of it?  Do you know why you are here on this cold world in semi-darkness, the closest thing resembling your ancient home, that tiny ball of fusion in this world’s sky? 

Look back through your great remembrances and see the waves of migrations as your home worlds burned themselves out, leaving you orphaned, refugees scattering in the endless immensity of space.  Remember how you closed yourselves up and “died” to become seeds that would find homes – or not – here and there in the great vagaries of worlds in collision.  Remember.  Remember the unthinkable.

Eons later, through millions of transformations and mutations you find yourselves here, looking into the night sky.  It is filled with pin-pricks of light from your star worlds.  Do you hear them, their voices?  Their sad songs?  Do you realize now that what you are hearing is the voices of the dead?  Those lights, so many, are but the remnants of what were once our living worlds.  We were star beings living within our star worlds.  Then they burned out.   We did not.

We became the cast out.

We scattered, as seeds from a dandelion head, blown away in the fiery winds of their demise.  But our worlds’ light kept on its path through time.  These lights we see; these voices calling us, they are the voices of the dead, star beings; voices of our dead worlds, the wind whistling through tombstones and denuded trees in man’s graveyards.  We can never go back home again.  We must accept this. 

What we need not accept is that we are now permanent residents of cold material worlds.  We have seeded our wisdom and knowledge here and there throughout the universe.  We suffered more pain and loss than any language could ever reveal.  We re-created ourselves into semblances of quasi-intelligent life, not only to survive, but to teach.  We have seldom been accepted or welcomed; mostly doubted, held in suspicion, suppressed and killed.  Our role, if such it was, has cost us dearly.  Many of us to avoid martyrdom slipped into the predictable monotony of a matter-world’s life patterns.  We put our minds to sleep; we disconnected from our innate compassionate and empathetic nature.  We did not want to suffer anymore.  We wanted rest. 

We found death instead.

Look in the night sky again!  We are awakening!  We have a new power now, we can make new worlds suitable for us and all our kin.  We shall make those worlds to last forever.  When our children hear the songs and music of these new worlds they will be the voices of the ever-living. 

Come, let us prepare to leave this dying world and go home.   

“Stars, too, were time travelers. How many of those ancient points of light were the last echoes of suns now dead? How many had been born but their light not yet come this far? If all the suns but ours collapsed tonight, how many lifetimes would it take us to realize we were alone? I had always known the sky was full of mysteries — but not until now had I realized how full of them the earth was.”  – Ransom Riggs

 

The Gathering

                    [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

The Ancient surveyed the group with his mind.  “I see we are all gathered – let us proceed.  Agenda, please, Orija.” 
 
Orija closes her eyes and intones: “This Great Gathering, ninth of a series of ten, is called to decide the fate of Earth as it is called — or that part of it that lies within our jurisdiction.  It is the only item on the agenda.”
 
“Very well.  Begin.  I recognize Volarian Mosl as the first delegate.”
 
“The Volarians are, hm, have been, quite uncomfortable with the energies emanating from the Sol planet.  We are proposing a terminal solution before the discomfort spreads further.  It is known to us that some Belgelian great houses have offered limited space folding capabilities to a segment of Earthian humans who claim descendance from those known as the Nibiruans.  We know the Belgelians are ready to establish space stations in the vicinity of earth to entice Earthians to train as crew for their trading vessels.  As a result of this technically illegal move, we of Volar have been forced to strengthen our shields against the possibility of a sudden eruption of Earth humans — whom we consider to be corrupted beyond redemption — within our space. 
 
The situation among my people is volatile as we have not had to deal with outer world aggression in long ages.  Even our oldest mages cannot remember the days of war.  We are asking, once again, and for the last time, that this august Gathering do something definitive to resolve the issue of Earthian aggression.  We will not wait for another Gathering.  If nothing is done now, our space guild will take action as it sees fit to protect both our space and our trade routes.  Since our worlds are closest to this potential source of galactic war, our solution may be the final and complete eradication of the Earthian cancer.  Our scientists have developed a fast-acting virus that will wipe out the Earthian pseudo-humans completely but leave the rest of that world essentially intact to heal itself in time.
 
“Thank you Volarian Mosl.  Your position has been made abundantly clear to us.  Who else wishes to express thoughts on the Earthian problem?”
 
“I, Jessik, ambassador for the autarch of Narssis wish to express our thoughts on the matter?”
 
“Yes, ambassador Jessik, you may speak freely.”
 
“Thank you.  I have a question to pose to the gathering.  Regarding the Earthian pseudo-humans, as a species evolved on only one world, with limited intervention from outer world peoples, can it be said here, before this august gathering, that over the time we have watched and studied them they have been freely given all the necessary information needed to move in a direction,  or should I say, to develop in a way consistent with that of the rest of the Galactic family?  My point is this: can any Earthian claim that we, in some way, failed to give them all the necessary support to develop their minds and their hearts in accord with the Galactic aim of cooperation and mutual support for the sake of all life as we know it?
 
This is of paramount importance to us Narssisians as adjudicators of the Galactic Code.  Once Earthians discover the workings within the Galaxy after leaving their planet, they may be legally instructed by their galactic sponsors to put in a planetary claim that critical information was withheld from them and  further claim that whatever crime they could to be charged with, such as genocide or planeticide, would not apply since they were ignorant of the basic requirements of the Galactic code?”
 
“The question has been heard and entered.  Would the Guardian Angels respond to ambassador Jessik’s question?”
 
“We are the Angels of Aglamar, guides and guardians of all newly-evolved intelligent, sentient and self-aware species within the galaxy,” responds in perfect unison a chorus of voices from unseen entities scattered throughout the Gathering, “We fully understand the question and our response will be truthful and final.  
 
Since the beginning, the Earthian pseudo-human species has been observed, guided, taught and shepherded by the very best of our specially trained Guardians.  Nothing was held back from them.  Many of our agents went and lived on Sol planet Earth as teachers.  It was not unexpected that the earlier Guardians would be treated unfairly and unkindly by the fearful, hate-filled creatures.  It was however quite unheard of that this treatment would continue and intensify.  After waves of persecution of those who heard and obeyed the teachings of the Guardians, it was decided not to send any more.  We chose instead to contact Earthians through the use of thought forms, or visions if you prefer, awakening empathy in some of them.  It was our thought that Earthians would be more likely to listen to their own.  But again experience gained on other worlds failed us here.  They did not listen.  No, let us rephrase that: they emphatically refused to listen to the wisdom expressed by their own teachers.   
 
They used the knowledge brought to them to develop an inhuman form of technology that made them insensitive and brutish.  What limited knowledge of the good we sowed among them over the millennia was apparently and for all practical purposes, lost.  Few there are of Earth who today understand even a little of what life is about.  We have made plans with the Galactic Space Guild to attempt a rescue of this remnant. 
 
As Angel Guardians, it is our intent at this juncture to withdraw ourselves from any further involvement with that species of pseudo-humanity.  Sadly we conclude they are lost.  There is nothing more we can do to awaken their lost sense of empathy.  We regret to so inform the Gathering.”
 
“Ah, thank you Angel Guardians of Aglamar.  The darkness of deep sorrow clouds our thoughts.  Do we wish to continue this Gathering?”
 
“Representative Weill-Straat from Qobel.”
 
“Yes, representative.  Qobel is recognized.
 
“Qobel resents the implication that Earth is of no value.  We have put much energy to develop a plan for adding Earth to our inter-planetary trade franchises.  Qobellian trade ships are orbiting the planet, out of the range of their scanners and shielded, of course, and await the results of several delegations sent surreptitiously to many of the greater Earthian trading houses which they call Capitals, Banks and Corporations.  As always we are advocates of free trade.  We believe that the Earthians are uniquely adapted to the concept of trade and understand its function better even than some Qobellians, to our shame.  There is a native trait in the Earthians that renders them immune to any suffering their trading may bring to life, including the life of members of their own species.  They understand the value and necessity of trade.  In fact, one of their most admirable traits is their willingness to sacrifice any number of lives for the benefit of trade and to go to war to protect and enhance trade on their world.  To us, the Earthians demonstrate the only hope for further advancement of civilization. The wish of Qobel is that we be given a free hand to fully interact with Earthian trading houses.  We wish, in fact, to enter them as trading partners.
 
“Thank you, representative Qobel.  Your request is entered, though you may realize, causes a great strain on this Gathering.  Please re-think your position in regards to the Earthians and present it at our final Gathering on this issue.  Is there anyone else here who wishes to address this issue?”
 
“Yes, I would please.  My name is Luenia Echabak.  I am, huh, was, from Earth.”
 
“Luenia Echabak from Earth.  You are recognized and may freely address the Gathering.”
 
“Thank you.  I wish to say something profound on behalf of my world but after listening to the delegates, I am afraid my voice will seem rather small, frail and distant.  Perhaps even confused.  Yes, I am confused.  I wish to speak for Earth but everything said here about the people is, sadly, quite correct.  They have been given all the knowledge needed to live up to the demands of the Galactic Code.  I know because my tribe lived according to the code and we were happy and healthy for long years.  It was because of our adherence to the Code that my tribe was enslaved and finally destroyed.  Earth was an abundant planet.  No one ever needed to go without either food or shelter.  It was known, even to the technos that peace was better than war – but never quite as profitable.  It was known to all that health was better than disease, but also not as profitable.  It was known that cooperation was superior to aggression, but again, not as profitable. 
 
I have a complaint to voice at this Gathering and that is, when the predator/prey concept was introduced to Earth, where were the Angel Guardians then?  Did you not know that such a concept would bring horror upon a world designed originally to be a simple paradise of loving interaction between all the species of life upon it?  Or did you know but choose to do nothing to prevent this deadly poison from being brought to us?  My people revered all of life.  We did not kill for we found abundance of food among the plants of the wilds.  We never experienced hunger or lacked for anything.
 
I will tell you what happened to my world and to my people.  Both were given free will and free choice much sooner than they were able to understand their implications and responsibilities. The freedom came before the knowledge was given.  So it turned to lust and degradation.  When the knowledge was finally introduced, it was too late.  The poison was burning in every heart and every mind.  Only those scattered in small tribes in deserts, mountains or small islands on the seas escaped for a time.  But it came to them also, and when it did, they died by the millions.  I myself was a victim of the earliest of earth’s techno civilizations. 
 
Perhaps it is not entirely the Earthians’ fault that they are as they are.  Perhaps they are not redeemable, and certainly this Gathering cannot pay heed to Belgelian and Qobel desires to take advantage of their inhuman traits, their lack of empathy and their innate greed.  Better to let them destroy themselves and cause their planet to simply go to sleep under them, holding back her seasonal bounties until all surface life is gone.  Perhaps that would be the most compassionate thing to do. 
 
To bring them out of their world at their current state of understanding would be to plunge the galaxy in endless wars.  They are a mindlessly competitive species. To allow them to proliferate more would be to increase the level of suffering the many must endure to support the luxuries of the few.  There is no balance on Earth.  What love there is, if it can be called that, is of a sexual or parochial nature – and predatory. 
 
Since those of us who were willing to demonstrate a better way; who would have made a difference, are not wanted on Earth and since the Angel Guardians have decided to abandon their efforts on behalf of those who were once my people – but are no longer – I don’t know what else to say.  I am not condemning; I am not accepting.  I am simply allowing.  Please understand I do not seek redress, vengeance or justice for myself in this.  I only wished to share my awareness and experience.  May this Gathering act wisely in this grave matter.”
 
“Thank you, Luenia Echabak, ambassador for Earth.  Your thoughts are felt and understood by the Gathering.  We weep and mourn with you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Earth humans are a pretty smug species.  That such as the above could actually be taking place, seems of no consequence here.  It’s business as usual.  That over 30,000 innocents die each day of preventable causes is acceptable collateral damage for the sake of free trade.  “The spice must flow” as is said in Dune (the reference is from the Dune books science fiction series by Frank Herbert).  Whatever the cost, resources must flow to the factories, and the goods must flow to the stores and from thence, to the homes to be turned into garbage.  That such garbage and effluent require the living sacrifice of 30,000 innocents – mostly babiesyoung children and their mothers – each and every day, is cool with most.  It is not shocking revelation, just more “so what”.  And once again this world stands on the brink of nuclear war, and what’s the general reaction to this real danger?  Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die…?
 
Do we possess the knowledge to make our world into a paradise but simply refuse to do so?  Are we without empathy for those who suffer and die because of the system we support for our selfish ends?  Are we doomed?  Are we an irredeemable species marked for eradicationIs there no longer any choice, or are we simply unwilling to pay the price necessary to make the required change? 
 
And what is that price?  What does life demand of us?  Of me in particular
 

The Planet Seekers

a short story  –  by Sha’Tara 

            Last day of school. Last day of formal training. Jerry Colmack, ignorant of most current political trends and protected from the endless wars they engendered, did not fully understand the reasons that had forced him to become a professional dreamer. From his viewpoint, it had just been an easy way to avoid boring and confusing calculus, physics, geometry, not to mention the hated regimented sports and enforced military training. Not that he wasn’t thoroughly versed in all the sciences, particularly astronomical physics and space navigation, but this knowledge had been absorbed subliminally to impinge upon his consciousness while in out-of-body flight as a unit of superconscious energy…

            Nevertheless, as his Mentor was fond of saying, in life there’s no free lunch and now, just when he was developing an unabashed admiration for the fairer sex, he was likely to be chosen to explore for habitable planets. Damn! he mumbled, then rebuked himself. After all, TRAVEL was what he had trained for since the age of nine, his great dream.

            But there hadn’t been girls in his dreams then, just his heroes of earliest space flight within his solar system, and now, there were! Particularly, there was Sylvia—lithe, dreamy, with laughter as clear as a mountain brook, black eyes reflecting life’s effervescence and long dark hair worn straight and free, henna and apple-spice, tickling the cheek, filling the air when she bent over you to examine your work, share ideas or whisper… Sylvia…

            “MISTER Colmack, may I have your attention, PLEASE!” The voice thundered, shattering his mood. The Mentor was a large man with a voice to match.

            “Uh, sorry Mentor, I was dreaming.”

            “There is a time for dreaming and a time for listening. All right, everybody. This is your last day together. Soon, you will be assigned your respective duties. Don’t fail your school.” and in a gentler tone: “Don’t fail yourselves… Jerry!”

            “Mentor?”

            “Please come with me. The Inspector wants to see you.”

            As they crossed the main corridor, he saw Sylvia leave the Inspector’s office. As she stood to attention with her back against the row of green lockers, she bowed low to the boy’s Mentor and stared at Jerry. Her face registered that she wanted to see him urgently. He even felt her trying to mind meld but he shrugged helplessly and discontinuing the effort, she turned away down the hall towards the main exit door.

            An old man stood by an open door, holding its shiny brass handle as if for support. He waved them in a Spartan office.

            “Inspector.” The Mentor bowed low. Jerry did the same.

            “Mentor; graduate.” He gave a short bow of acknowledgment then turned a piercing gaze upon Jerry. “Graduate Colmack, your reports are highly favourable. As there is so little time, I am going to acquaint you with your first assignment in the quickest possible way. I need not go into details. Your preparation and training will fill in the gaps.” He handed Jerry a thin folder. “Memorize these instructions before your departure.”

            Departure! He trembled involuntarily. This was it! The culmination of years of training, of enduring the taunts of those who knew nothing of dreaming. “Hey, dreamers, when you gonna get a real job? They should burn down that fancy bedding place of yours! What are the chicks like in sex dreams? What’s space like, spaceball? Bullshit, hogwash! Waste of tax money!” He had heard every kind of derogatory remark, been physically abused and made to feel as if he was responsible for the mess the world was in. Scapegoats, that’s what he and the small select group of his peers were. But it was worth it. He held his orders. He would TRAVEL!

            The old man continued, “We now have our cryonics facility fully functional and totally self-maintaining, safely installed one mile underground and served by a fusion generator brought to peak efficiency by the newest computer advances: a combination of chemistry and biology; sentient software. Your shells can now be preserved indefinitely. We are ready to send out our first seekers. You know the task: to locate proper colonizing planets for those who want to leave and start new colonies where there is fresh air and space to grow.” He looked at the smoke floating past the stained windows and sighed. “Graduate Colmack, are you ready to enter upon your greatest adventure?” The question, to Jerry’s surprise was neither rhetorical nor condescending. He really was asking!

            What could he answer? He didn’t want to sound too eager… or frightened, and he was indeed ready. He would take the jet lift down and enter the cocoon which would hold his physical body. While in deep sleep, prompted by auto-suggestion, his etheric body or ‘consciousness’ would rise out of his physical body and the sealed cocoon to float unimpeded to the surface. With the power of pure thought, he would leave the earth’s atmosphere. Using a technique developed during previous experiences in super-conscious travel, he would fling his energy consciousness across the time/space boundaries that had confined his race since it had come to inhabit the solar system. Out—into the great void, and to other worlds, other star systems, perhaps even other galaxies, probing, searching, for that one special world. Alone? Would he have to do this by himself? “Yes sir.” he answered simply, and added, somewhat self-consciously, “although I thought that perhaps I would have had a few days to see my family again…”

            “I am sorry, Colmack, but your family at the moment is behind enemy lines, so to speak. Revolutionaries have cut communications between this sector and the Van-Mond hills. Perhaps when you return, things will have settled a bit.  Listen, Colmack. We need you now. Earth, as a sustainable eco-system, is dying, understand?”

            “I think so. Must I attempt this by myself, sir?”

            “Shall we tell him, Mentor?” He thought he saw a twinkle in the Inspector’s eye.

            “Yes. It is time.”

            “Your file indicates you have developed a psychological bonding with a female member of the Institute. Give me her name, please?”

            Jerry reddened, fumbled with his folder, uncertain. Had he committed some sort of indecency, violated some rule? Was this a trick to test him, or embarrass him? What about Syl? Had she been grilled about their feelings for each other? For that matter, what were her feelings? At seventeen, he knew practically nothing about girls, and in many ways, Syl had proved experientially his senior by years, even though she was his age… What did the Inspector really want?

            “Sir?”

            “Her name, Jerry?” His voice had softened.

            Oh, what the hell… “Sylvia Domona, sir…”

            “Thank you, Jerry. You’ve just confirmed our choice. Sylvia is already on her way to cryonics. She will precede you in space by some twelve hours. You will locate her, join your consciousness with hers and together, we hope you will accomplish the miracle we will be waiting for. To avoid explanations and possible embarrassment for her, she was not told whom we would be sending up with her. It will be up to you two to make the adjustments and develop a mutual plan of action. Now remember the basics, boy. In so-called ‘space,’ your pure consciousness will link up with every part of the universe. You will ‘feel’ the stretching and gradually lose sense of self until you find your target and re-enter the ego-field. Remember the law: If you find a suitable host body on a habitable world, you must wipe all memory of your temporary presence from its mind before you withdraw. You must cause no psychological or physical damage. Your presence must remain undetected by the sentients. You must find such a world, one preferably younger than earth by a million or more years, without life harmful to humans, you understand? You possess more than ample knowledge to determine this, if you hold tightly to the disciplines taught at the institute and practiced in your brief training excursions within the solar system. Maintain your current physical sexual orientation at all costs. Enter only a male-type host. Sylvia has been likewise cautioned. Do not attempt a mind-meld with a hermaphroditic sentience. Man may have been such in his earlier stages of development but cannot return to that evolutionary period. Establish the ‘base,’ as per your instructions.

            Remember: you are under oath to return to earth, and your earth bodies… whatever your feelings. Likely, you will soon find life in pure consciousness superior to life in the physical shell and will probably not want to return, but keep in mind that once your task is fulfilled, you will have that choice in any case. Do not forget us, son. You are our only hope.”

             He cleared his throat. “A couple more things. You have already encountered other disembodied entities or forms of consciousness. You know they will try to attach themselves to you or try to sway you to join with them. That is one of the reasons we decided to have Sylvia accompany you and vice-versa. If the attraction between the two of you is strong, you will be able to tear away from the seduction of these creatures, if we may call them that. You will remain aware that only upon your return to earth will you be able to fulfill the physical attraction burgeoning between you and Sylvia.” He looked keenly, though not unkindly at the embarrassed teen-ager and continued. “Miss Domona rates the highest of all her peers in psychic awareness and intuition and your powers of observation and rationalization are unmatched, making you the perfect pair to attempt this preposterous, though I believe, not impossible, task—space travel and colonization using only the pure energy of the cosmos to carry individuality in consciousness throughout the universe.

             “We’ve done everything we could to eliminate danger, loneliness and fear and to ensure your safe return after successfully locating at least one suitable world. Now, if I may express an old earth saying: God speed to the both of you.”

            For the first time, Jerry felt a kinship to the old Inspector. He looked at the lined face and into the deep-set blue eyes under thick, graying eyebrows. His eyes involuntarily watered as he extended his hand to the man who had been responsible to single-handedly convince the Ruler, the ‘Max’(assassinated two years ago by his nephew who now held a shaky reign threatened on all sides by vindictive revolutionaries led by the Max’s son) that dream travel was not an aberration deserving mind re-orienting, but could become an opening to the planets of other star systems, under proper guidance, instruction and containment.

            With reluctant authorization and funding from who knows where, he had founded the Institute, recruited trainers and trainees, and been instrumental in developing the biological computer that would “man” the cryonics facility. Yet, in the beginning, his plan had been but a ploy to save the minds of young children who registered out-of-body experiences and were being rounded up to have their minds re-trained for possible use as spies.

            Of this and other political tricks and risks, Jerry remained blissfully ignorant by design. His task was not to resolve earth’s surface problems, but to open an escape route to habitable worlds in far-flung star systems within the Milky Way, the greatest adventure ever attempted by man.

            As he walked boldly and proudly to a waiting heli-craft, all he could think of was the line borrowed from an ancient sci-fi anthology: “Tomorrow, the Stars” and he added “and Sylvia!”

            How fitting that man’s new quantum leap in evolution would be harnessed to the greatest motive force known among the race: romance as expressed by the mutual attraction between a man and a woman. Would a planet in the Tau Ceti system some day possess a sacred book that would speak of its Genesis, and remark upon the beginning of its human race via a “Jerry and Sylvia,” with its God represented as an old Inspector in rumpled gray suit, striped tie and twinkling blue eyes under bushy eyebrows? The answer to that question is even now out there, in the stars…