2150 AD
Page 1
2150 A.D.
by
Thea Alexander
WARNER BOOKS EDITION
Copyright ® 1971, 1976 by Thea Alexander All rights reserved
Quote from Time Magazine, July 13, 1970, “What the Police Can‑And Cannot‑Do about Crime,” reprinted by permission from Time, The Weekly Newsmagazine; Copyright Time Inc.
ISBN 0‑446‑82774‑6
Cover design by Gene Light
Cover art by Lou Feck
Warner Books, Inc, 75 Rockefeller Plaza, Now York, N.Y. 10019
® A Warner Communications Company
Printed in the United States of America
Not associated with Warner Press, Inc. Of Anderson, Indiana
First Printing: September, 1976
10 9 8 7
Last night I awakened in another time in another place‑in another body!
I was lying in the middle of a small grassy clearing beneath a sky of azure blue. My bare body tingled. What beautiful freedom! I jumped to my feet and ran on and on with no sense of tiring. Tears of joy blurred my vision as I realized that I had both my legs again. The leg I had lost four years ago in Vietnam was mine again. I was whole, perfect, unscarred. Was I dreaming?
I ran along a path and suddenly before me stood a radiantly real woman. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Jon Lake,” she said. “I’m Lea.” In answer to my unspoken thoughts, she explained, “There are two Jon Lakes. One of them is asleep in, 1976 time; the other is standing here with me, in what you would think of as 2150 A.D., occupying the body you’re so pleased with‑your astral or soul body. It houses the unique electronic essence that is you.”
“May I stay here or must I go back to my old crippled body?”
“You must always awaken in 1976 unless you free yourself, by attaining a high level of Macro awareness‑an awareness of the oneness of all that is, all that was and all that ever will be . . .”
“The measure of a mind’s evolution is its acceptance of the unacceptable.” Rana
CONTENTS
Prologue
1. Lea
2. Was It a Dream?
3. Carol
4. Alpha Mates
5. The Test of Reality
6. Jon’s Alpha and Rana
7. The Unlimited Self
8. Macro Contact
9. Proof of the Pudding
10. Jon’s Past Lives
11. Neda
12. The Fifty‑Foot Leap
13. Loss
14. The Challenge
15. Micro Island
16. Karma
17. Evolation
Epilogue
Author’s Statement
C.I. DATA EXCERPTS
C.I. on Macro Philosophy
C.I. on the Macro Society
C.I. on Micro Man
C.I. on Akashic Records
C.I. on Dreams
C.I. on Expanding Human Awareness
The m‑M Continuum
Macro Learning Curve
C.I. on Metric Time
Macro Levels‑‑Criteria‑‑Colors
Jon’s Alpha
Alpha and Beta Floor Plans
Typical Delta Living Center
Map of Micro Island
Prologue to Journal of Jon Lake
Born September 12, 1948
Died May 2, 1976
My name is Karl Johnson and I was the roommate and best friend of Jon Lake, who wrote the following journal.
People have questioned me about the strange behavior and subsequent death of Jon, but I’ve been afraid to be completely truthful in my answers. At first I didn’t know what had happened. When I found out, I refused to believe it. Finally, however, I have accepted the truth, though I realize it will be rejected by many people‑particularly the authorities.
The police, the university officials, and Jon’s professors will, of course, laugh at his story. However, while today there may be few minds sufficiently evolved to accept the unusual concepts presented in this journal, I believe that it is only a matter of time before everyone will accept them.
Before you begin this journal, let me give you a brief description of Jon Lake as I knew him for over 20 years. We both grew up in the same small Midwestern town during the late 1940s and ‘50s. We met in first grade and became lifelong friends. This in spite of the fact that Jon, being the only son of our town’s doctor, lived on the hill at the wealthy end of town and I, the son of a day laborer, lived on the other side of the track.
When we were seven years old Jon’s mother died of leukemia. Two years later my father was severely burned getting Mom and me out of our house as it burned to the ground. Dr. Lake tried desperately that night to keep the forces of life alive in Dad’s charred body. As the sun rose, weeping at his failure, Dr. Lake took Mom and me into his home where he treated me like his own son until his death, 10 years later. Jon and I grew up closer than any brothers I ever knew, for we never fought, and while I have been angry with many people, I have rarely ever been angry with Jon. He was the kindest and most patient man I ever knew.
Jon was a brilliant student, and I began just the opposite. For twelve years he tutored me, never once losing his patience with my truculence toward the ridiculous nature of most school subjects. He succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest expectations, for I graduated in the top 5 percent of both high school and college. Jon, of course, graduated at the top of our class as well as being voted best athlete in both high school and college.
Jon was so good a quarterback that catching his well-thrown passes made me a college football star in spite of myself. Jon could have played professional football if it hadn’t been for the Vietnam War. It seems that Jon’s father had incurred the wrath of two members of the local draft board who revenged themselves by having Jon and me drafted two weeks after our college graduation.
In the army we stayed together all the way to the final patrol, where our platoon was blown to pieces and I found myself carrying Jon through what seemed like endless miles of jungle. Somehow we were found by medics and flown to a base hospital where Jon was parted from his right leg and I gave up the sight in my left eye.
While Jon was never bitter about the loss of his leg during that monumental madness called the Vietnam War, I was filled with rage. Jon said that he had learned a valuable lesson in that he could not bring himself to kill or even wound another person, even to save his own life. But I could have told him that without the Vietnam War.
Perhaps the single most difficult thing about Jon for me to understand was what I called his tender‑heartedness. He couldn’t bear to hurt anything. Yet while he would not intentionally step on a bug, or even uproot a plant, he didn’t go around preaching his beliefs to others. He always said that each person can only learn when they are ready to learn, and that what is right for one person can be wrong for another.
Thus, Jon never allowed himself to become upset by the war, saying that it was a necessary experience for all involved in it. He called it karma. Try as I might, I could not get him to join me in protesting the war or even to argue with me about it. Jon seldom argued with anyone. He just agreed with them, saying that whatever they believed in was true for them.
In many ways Jon was a paradox to me. He was six feet three inches tall and weighed 180 pounds and could run faster than any other man in college. On the football field, however, he didn’t like to block or tackle for fear of hurting someone. He would kill nothing, but he ate meat that had been killed by others. With his deep blue eyes, and strong, beautifully chiseled features he was very popular with the girls, which sometimes created problems.
During high school he got a girl pregnant. It was the only time I ever saw Dr. Lake furiously angry with Jon I can still remember Dr. Lake shouting angrily that no
person had the right to bring a child into this world that he was not psychologically and financially able to care for.
In college Jon had majored in philosophy and minored in psychology and sociology. When we were medically discharged from the army, Jon persuaded me to return to the university to seek graduate degrees. We both majored in psychology and minored in sociology. Jon was fascinated by the social factors in the development of individual behavior and personality. His enthusiasm inspired me to a practical interest in learning how to influence social changes so that we would have no more tragic fiascos like Vietnam.
At the time Jon’s journal begins, we had finished all our class work for the Ph.D. degree and were jointly working on a social‑psychological dissertation concerning the development of values and self‑esteem in children.
I could write much more about Jon, but this is his story, not mine. My purpose has been to provide a setting for this truly remarkable journal and a brief description of my friend, Jon Lake‑a man you will never forget.
Since Jon was not writing this journal for publication, but mainly for self‑study, portions of it would have been somewhat technical for the average reader. I have, therefore, deleted the most esoteric and complex passages. Some of these have been condensed and appear in the C.I. Data Excerpts section at the back of this book. Three people other than myself read the complete journal while Jon was still alive and able to explain and demonstrate some of its concepts. We were all so profoundly impressed that our lives have not been the same since. I would, therefore, recommend that the serious reader give some attention to those excerpts from Jon’s conversations with C.I. and refer to them often during the reading of his journal.
Many of the things you will read in this journal will be difficult, if not impossible, to believe.
Jon however believed that, in time, the strange concepts presented here will be accepted by all.
CHAPTER 1: Lea
For months I awakened reluctantly each morning, mentally reaching back into my dream state for some indescribable adventure that lay, mistily, just beyond my reach. Last night my longing for its completion was realized. I awakened in another time‑in another place in another body.
Lying in the middle of a small grassy clearing, I opened my eyes to a sky of soft azure blue. Trees towered in uncluttered profusion as far as I could see.
The musky scent of new‑mown clover was brought to me on the cool morning air. The sound of birds calling to one another filled me with a sense of rightness and peace. My bare body tingled as its tiny hairs bent with the breeze. What beautiful freedom!
Arising, I breathed deeply, filling my whole being with the’ beauty of my new surroundings. With a mounting sense of adventure I walked, jogged, then ran through this lovely wooded park. Running had always seemed to me the ultimate in physical freedom. Now I ran on and on with no sense of tiring, enjoying the soft earth under my flying bare feet.
Suddenly I was in a small clearing surrounding a natural fountain.
Swerving to avoid it, I stopped so suddenly that I almost lost my footing.
Tears of joy blurred my vision as I gazed with amazement at my legs‑both of them!
Four years ago, in Vietnam, I had lost my right leg, and I had hobbled around on an artificial one ever since, unable to experience the exhilaration of running.
How had my leg returned?
Carefully examining my body, I realized that I hadn’t seen it in such great shape since my undergraduate days on the football field. As an extremely active young man, I had had my share of scars, but nowhere was there even a trace of them.
I gave puzzled thanks for this new, apparently perfect, body.
As the morning sun topped the horizon I noticed the almost crystal clarity of the air. How long has it been, I thought, since I’ve seen a sky so clear and breathed air so fragrantly fresh?
Where could I possibly be? I had gone to sleep last night in Upper Manhattan in a one‑bedroom walk‑up which I share with my best friend, my stepbrother, Karl Johnson. But I had certainly awakened somewhere else.
Was I dreaming? Would I soon awaken back in my one legged body?
I looked about me eager to fill my eyes before this beautiful new world might suddenly dissolve into an evanescent dream.
A covey of birds startled me as they took noisily to the air. Contemplating their direction, I wondered what season this was. I had gone to sleep on a cold January night, but I had obviously awakened in some other time or place, for it was certainly not winter here.
I began jogging along a path that wound around the flower bed and into the woods beyond.
A shot of ice‑cold apprehension burst through me as I realized that I was not alone. There before me stood a radiantly real woman!
She was dressed in an iridescent aquamarine tunic that covered a scant five inches of her shapely thighs. Her cerulean blue eyes caressed me with an all‑knowing embrace. The sunlight, sifting through her short golden hair, formed a shimmering halo.
I was so startled to see her and so mesmerized by her beautiful clarity that I literally forgot to breathe!
Those all‑knowing, all‑accepting eyes seemed filled with dancing lights as she said, “Hi! I’m Lea. I’ve waited a long time for you, Jon. You don’t remember me yet, but you will.”
This can’t be really happening, I thought.
“Oh yes, it can,” Lea answered in a low almost musical voice that caressed my ears in a ticklish sort of way.
Her response to my unspoken thoughts disarmed me. “You mean, I’m not dreaming?”
For a long moment she looked at me thoughtfully. “In a way, yes; and in a way, no,” she answered. ‘You see, there are two Jon Lakes. One of them is asleep in what you think of as 1976 ‘time’; the other is standing here with me, in what you would think of as 2150 A.D., occupying the body you’re so pleased with‑your astral or soul body.”
“My astral body? In what year?”
My amazement amused her. “Yes, your astral body. It’s almost identical to your physical body except that its electrical vibrations move so fast that it can’t be seen by the eyes of the physical body. Your astral body has translated 174 ‘years’ forward in time to what you would think of as 2150 A.D.”
“A hundred and seventy‑four years!” I exclaimed. “Wow! What a dream! And you say that I’ve got two bodies?”
“Actually, there are three right now,” Lea replied.
“Your 1976 body, minus one leg, is dreaming what’s happening to you now. Your 2150 body awaits you. And this body‑your astral body‑presently houses the unique electronic essence that is called ‘Jon Lake.’ It is definitely not dreaming.” When we get back to our Delta you’ll learn more about that before returning to 1976.”
Her casual remark that; I would be returning to my physical body delivered a surprising jolt.
“You mean I have to go back to my crippled body?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “You must always wake up back in 1976 unless you free yourself by attaining a high level of Macro awareness.”
“Macro awareness?” I puzzled.
“Macro awareness,” she explained, “simply means an ‘applied’ awareness of the macrocosmic oneness of all that is, all that was, and all that ever will be.
“We here in 2150 are far from total Macro awareness. But we have evolved‑to a point where we can remember our macrocosmic origin and practice some of the Macro powers‑what you refer to as E.S.P., or extrasensory perception.”
Somehow sensing my questions, she added, “You’ll learn more about that later,” and reached out to take my hand.
The most startling thing happened-her hand passed right through mine!
“What’s happened to me?” I exclaimed, trying desperately to take her hand and finding it totally impossible to even touch her.
“It’s all right, Jon,” she quickly assured me. “I forgot that I’m in my physical body, which naturally can’t touch your high‑vibration astral body.”
“That’s one way to say it.” Lea laughed.
“But if I’m a ghost, then how can you see me?”
“I’m not seeing you with my physical eyes, Jon. I’m seeing you with my Macro power of clairvoyance, and I’m hearing you telepathically.”
“You can see me and hear me, but you can’t touch me?”
“Not yet,” Lea replied, “but just as soon as we get to the life continuity lab we’ll fit you into your 2150 physical body. Then we’ll be able to touch again.”
“Again?” I thought, and she heard it.
“You’re not ready to understand that yet, Jon.”
“Come on. Let’s hurry and get you into your new body so we can touch again.”
With that last word hanging like a huge question mark in my mind, I found myself running as fast as I had ever run, yet still unable to overtake the beautiful form of my new mind‑boggling companion.