by Linda Hawley
“But I thought that third crystal was for the other Wisdom Keeper,” Edwin protested.
“It is. But until we find him, you can certainly use it for protection. It’s not gonna take on bad juju if you use it for protection before he does,” I teased, holding it out for him.
Edwin held his hand back, as if touching it would burn him. I don't know why, but I found that funny.
“You don’t have to believe, Edwin. Just wear it,” I urged him.
He was silent and unmoving. Chow put his hand on his brother’s arm, and Edwin turned to him. After some silent communication passed between them, Edwin took it from me.
“Good…let’s move on then. You know, you both being vivid dreamers is something that will help you in learning remote viewing. So will intuition. Sometimes information won’t make sense when viewing, so you’ll have to learn to take intuitive risks, trusting impressions that, logically, you’re not sure of. You two geeks may struggle with this a bit—using intuition over logic—but it’s an important quality for successful remote viewing.”
They both smiled at my playful taunt.
“The impressions you’ll get when viewing will compete with all the other things that occupy your mind. Using Transcendental Meditation to prepare you to receive impressions will help. It’s good that you both practice it, because you already know its value in calming the mind. In our conscious reality, it’s clear and sharp images that occupy our mind. But the images we want to obtain when remote viewing are vague and indistinct…just out of reach.”
“As in a dream,” Chow said.
“Yes…exactly. I’m hoping that your co-dreaming skills will help you capture the obscure images and disregard the noise. Sketching during the view will help you refine information. For me, I always have a pad and pen in front of me when viewing. I do draw things, but I really don’t use it as a way to understand the view. That part comes to me intuitively now.”
They both nodded, so I continued explaining.
“As a natural process of memory recall, we identify something in its time and space. For example, when you remember what you had for breakfast yesterday, you’ll remember that during breakfast you were in the kitchen, down the hall from where we are now, in this cottage, in France, which is on Earth. In successful remote viewing, we use geographical coordinates in a similar way, but in reverse. What’s really cool is that, using map coordinates, we are no longer limited to a timeline. Using longitude and latitude, we can remote view any target in any time.”
“Have you?” Edwin asked.
“Yes. Let me give you an example. I already told you that my last view with the CIA was that target where the soldiers were shot. For that view, I was given coordinates, as usual. Not long ago, in a conversation with Bob, he told me to look at those coordinates again, to help me understand the Shanghai earthquake. Of course, after so many years had passed, I didn’t remember the longitude and latitude. So—from my living room several months ago—I remote viewed back to the year 1990. I saw the room at the CIA where I first went live as a remote viewer, and I was able to see the coordinates I used back then. This example shows you a real situation where I successfully viewed the past. With the constraint of time removed, the possibilities are unfathomable.”
Chapter 9
“With my survival after Barcelona, I’m starting to feel as if destiny is involved. Sometimes I think about the sequence of events, and it feels like much of this has been orchestrated by divine providence.”
“How do you mean?” Chow asked.
“With The Prophecies—which Armond told me about—it feels like I’m called to do this work. I’m wondering if Armond died exactly when he did because I needed to be free enough to do this. Like it’s my life’s work…and the destiny of all three Wisdom Keepers.”
“I understand what you mean.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. These Prophecies we are involved in…it is all I can think of. It feels as if my life ceased to exist as it used to.”
“In what way?”
Chow was introspective. “My personal life, for one. I no longer have one. But it does not seem to matter to me.”
“I understand exactly what you mean. I’ve left my daughter and my aunt. I’m homeless. I know I sound like I’m complaining, but the truth is that I think I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to do.”
“Yes. I share your sense of purpose,” Chow said, then looked down at the sofa where we sat. “I have been meditating on something ever since we left Canada…”
“What is it?” I asked.
“The earthquake in Shanghai, at the end of your dream…I have been pondering how it occurred. I do not think you, nor I, caused it. But I do not believe it was a coincidence that it was happening in that place at that time.” Chow paused. “I also do not think it was a natural event,” he said in all seriousness.
“Then what was it?” I asked, unsure what he was getting at.
“I do not yet have an answer. But I continue to consider other possibilities. Something is unusual about it…”
“I agree that something’s not quite right.”
Chow nodded. “Even the events in your life—and mine—leading up to the Shanghai dream seem to have prepared us for this time.”
“Destiny.”
Chow nodded again.
“I’ve also been wondering about something. What if the divine purpose of technology was supposed to be good for mankind? It’s governments who have taken this remarkable gift and turned it into a way to control people.”
“What are you saying? That there is a way to return it to its natural state?” Chow asked.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
“I do not think so, Ann. But we have been surprised lately, have we not?”
“Yes, we certainly have.”
Sitting together shoulder to shoulder on the living room sofa, we were each lost in our own thoughts.
“I’ve been dreaming of Armond again,” I said, breaking the silence.
“And?”
“It’s like it was in India. I dream of the present with him, not the past. I dream of new things.”
“How do you feel when you awake from them?”
“Peaceful.”
“Then it is a gift,” he said simply.
“Yes,” I said, putting my head on Chow’s shoulder, grateful that he understood.
We sat for a minute like that—just companionably considering everything that had passed between us before we'd ever tried to remote view anything. It felt good.
“I had an experience, when I nearly died.”
Chow turned his shoulder, which caused me to look up at him. “What was it?” he asked me.
“I left my body.”
A childlike curiosity came across his face.
“I went to a place where I met Armond.”
“What did it look like?” he asked with an inquisitive smile.
“Hmm…I haven’t thought about what it looked like visually. Well, let me tell you about it, and then you can ask me questions.”
“Okay.”
“First, he sort of called me to him, or perhaps willed me to him is more accurate. His voice was so soothing. I was not inside my body. I was a spirit.”
“A spirit?” Chow asked with a look of confusion.
“Yes. I was certainly separate from my body. I could see it below me…far away.”
“Extraordinary,” Chow exclaimed.
“Armond willed me to him, and I was immediately filled with love for him—so grateful to see him alive.”
“Did you touch or embrace?”
“No. We never touched, but there was something—it was like a cord made of energy—that linked the two of us, heart to heart. I could see it. Not touching one another didn’t lessen our connection in any way.”
“Interesting.”
“He said that he’d been watching over me and that there were things to come that would be hard to bear
.”
“Did he say what they were?”
“No.”
“Do you think he was referring to your near death and physical recovery?”
“No. I think whatever he was talking about is still to come. He said that the pain I would feel is finite. I am to remember that I will always be protected. He said that soon The Prophecies would be fulfilled and that we would be together—”
Chow interrupted me. “He said you would be together soon?”
“Yes…as though it were the most natural thing in the world.”
“That can only mean one thing,” Chow said, concern flashing in his eyes.
“I know…I know. It means that after The Prophecies are fulfilled, I will die,” I said, voicing the words that Chow was reluctant to say.
He looked at me, the silence extending around the room like a somber sigh.
“I’m okay with it,” I said, reassuring him. “If my divine work on Earth is fulfilled, then it’s okay with me if I leave. It felt so good and natural to be with him again.”
Chow’s eyes were piercing through me—he looked sorrowful.
“The last thing he said to me was to ‘use the Herkimer’s power.’ When I received the third Herkimer today, I clearly remembered what he’d told me,” I said, eager to move the conversation forward.
Chow, seeming to have forced some detachment from his emotions, said, “I can see why. Do you know what his words meant?”
“Well, I’ve been pondering them in our morning meditation. But it wasn’t until today that a thought came to me.” I paused, considering how to explain it, while Chow waited patiently. “What if the Herkimers are for more than our physical protection? What if they’re intended to do more than clarify paranormal abilities? What if the three Wisdom Keepers are supposed to use the three Herkimers together in some way, and by doing this, we’ll be able to achieve something extraordinary?”
Chow was silent for several seconds, pondering what I’d said. “What we still need to learn is what the crystals have already done for you and for us and what they will do for us in the future. Crystals have so many applications in modern technology…”
“Such as piezoelectricity,” Philippe said, finishing Chow’s sentence as he silently entered the living room, catching the end of our conversation.
Chow and I were startled, and we turned to him.
“Yes, piezoelectricity,” Chow agreed, motioning for Philippe to sit in the chair across from us.
“Electricity results from applied pressure on the crystal. It’s used in generating high voltages and frequencies and producing sound. It’s even used for cigarette lighters,” Philippe said, seeming to boast.
“How is it you know so much about crystals?” I asked, wondering.
“My given name is Philippe Jacques Curie. My great-grandfather was Pierre Curie—”
“The physicist?” Chow abruptly asked.
“Yes,” Philippe said humbly.
“The Nobel laureate who discovered piezoelectricity?” Chow asked.
Holy cow, I thought, shocked by Philippe’s ancestry.
“In concert with my Great-uncle Jacques, yes. However, it was my great-grandfather’s work with his wife, Marie, in the field of radioactivity that won the Nobel Prize in Physics.”
“They invented the word radioactivity and were able to isolate radium and polonium. Is that correct?” Chow asked Philippe, clearly excited by the potential for a geek-fest.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“You sure come from a gifted gene pool,” I remarked.
Philippe guffawed.
“It’s not a coincidence that you were brought to this safe house. GOG thought I could be of some technical assistance regarding the Herkimers,” Philippe offered.
“I had no idea who you were,” I said to him.
“My ancestry is just that—it’s their accomplishment, not mine. It’s just like you said. I only come from a beneficial gene pool,” he said, making fun of himself. “But I am very familiar with their research, and I could be of assistance to you both.”
“It seems like a good time to consider the crystals,” Chow offered.
Philippe nodded.
“I fear the two of you can easily out-geek me, so please remember to keep the conversation at my level, okay?”
“Ann, I am familiar enough with you to know that you are no beginner to technical discussions,” Chow said, reassuring me.
“That’s very nice of you,” I said playfully.
Philippe watched our interaction with curiosity.
Chow smiled. Turning to Philippe, he said, “Now that we have three Herkimers, it seems that the three Wisdom Keepers should be able to use them for something significant.”
“I’ll take your word for it, regarding the Wisdom Keepers. The Prophecies theory has been explained to me, but it seems a little far-fetched,” Philippe said.
I recoiled in shock.
Philippe saw my reaction and quickly responded. “It’s not that I choose not to believe Ann, but my nature is to operate on facts. I haven’t disproved the theory that there are three Wisdom Keepers—I simply have no opinion either way.”
Chow chimed in. “I was there when Ann had the dream, and I know—without needing it proved—that she is the Guardian of Time and that she and I are two of the Wisdom Keepers. I understand, however, that others may have difficulty embracing it.”
“My doubt won’t affect my ability to help you—it truly has no bearing. I am loyal to GOG and have pledged my life,” Philippe said, resolute.
I nodded my understanding but reserved my judgment. Some part of me felt uneasy about his confession.
Chapter 10
Edwin, Chow, and I were sitting at the farm table, discussing the insertion point for our mission.
“We know from the remote views that Talbot formed his relationships with the two Justices—and all four Cabinet members—at Harvard Law School before 1983. If we insert ourselves in the latter part of 1982, we have a better chance of successfully discrediting him,” Chow suggested.
“I have been considering what to use to damage his reputation. If we pursue moral issues, then I have concerns on whether they will be overlooked in time,” Edwin said, then paused. “One option that may work is honor.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“What if Talbot was caught cheating on exams?”
“But his IQ is high. Why would he need to cheat?” I asked.
“We would plant irrefutable evidence that he was indeed cheating,” Edwin responded.
We all paused and thought about it.
“I like it,” Chow said finally.
“We can reinforce his dishonor as a man by making him plagiarize a paper,” I suggested.
“Does either of you know Harvard’s policy on cheating?” Chow asked.
“They have a three strikes rule,” Edwin explained. “First is a formal reprimand. The second offense is academic probation. The final step is expulsion.”
“So we build up Talbot’s cheating and plagiarism history, and that prevents him from obtaining a law degree?” I asked.
“We can assume that the dishonor would prevent him from securing a seat in the Senate,” Edwin said.
“It’s been a long time since honor had anything to do with the Senate,” I quipped.
Chow smiled thinly in response.
* * *
We lay side by side on the floor of my bedroom, with each of us wearing the Herkimers around our necks.
“1982 is the insertion point at Harvard. Remember not to divulge your knowledge of future legal decisions, technology, or events that will occur in the future. Edwin, remember to focus on returning at the same time as Ann and me,” Chow said.
Edwin nodded.
“Ready?” Chow asked.
“Yes,” Edwin and I replied in unison.
* * *
“So you’re visiting from Columbia?” Talbot asked as he leaned slightly into me, his hazy blue eyes du
lled by the alcohol he’d consumed during happy hour.
“Yes, along with two other law students. Just for a few days,” I replied.
“What’s your area of study?” he asked, clearly flirting with me.
“Constitutional Law. What about you?” I asked, trying not to lean away in repulsion.
The evil within him seemed almost palpable.
“My concentration is Government Law.”
“Why did you decide to pursue that direction?” I asked him.
“Public office is of interest to me. I’ve heard rumors that President Reagan intends to pursue privacy protection of Americans over the rights of the government to conduct searches without a warrant.”
“And you’re opposed to the protection of the civil liberties of American citizens?”
He paused. “It sounds like your area of study is Civil Liberties, not Constitutional Law,” he quipped. He took another swig of his drink and then smiled at me seductively.
I’m gonna enjoy destroying you, I thought. “From my perspective, Government Law and Civil Liberty are woven together. Think about why the Fourth Amendment was written in the first place,” I said passionately.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to lecture me on it?” he said sarcastically, cocking his head to the side.
I forged on, eager for this future tyrant to remember our conversation. “The Fourth Amendment was written in direct response to the British government’s practice of searching any of their citizen’s homes without cause. It gave Americans a constitutional right to privacy, and it protects our citizens from unlawful searches and seizures. I don’t understand why any lawyer wouldn’t support it.”
“Oh, come now, Ann. You—like me—are soon to graduate and must know that there are two sides of every argument. Perhaps I am simply the devil’s advocate in this matter,” he said, as he ran his small hand through his short black hair.
Devil’s advocate is right, you scumbag.
“I can see that we are on opposite sides of this argument,” he continued. “But we don’t have to be opposed in other personal matters,” he said, moving closer to me.