“Let me think a minute,” Karl said. “Something’s coming‑something’s coming . . .”
About twenty seconds later he shouted, “Eureka! I’ve got it! I’ll take pictures. Yes, sir, I’ll take pictures from every angle, then I’ll buzz upstairs and borrow Snuffy Baldwin’s dark room and develop them. How’s that grab ya?”
“Hmm,” I said as I thought it over. “Don’t you think Snuffy will want to see these big important pictures you’re suddenly so hot about developing? Besides, it seems to me I can remember when you told him your time was too valuable to waste developing your own pictures any more.”
“I can handle Snuffy all right,” Karl replied confidently. “You just recharge your batteries or whatever you do to get ready for another demonstration of PK before the untrickable eye of my camera.”
As he was talking Karl had walked over to the closet and pulled out his camera which he had picked up while we were overseas. For a time it seemed like he was forever taking pictures of all kinds of stuff, then developing and enlarging them, sometimes enormous sizes. I remember I had thought that somehow all this was some sort of compensation for the loss of his left eye. His passion for photography had gradually waned, however, till during the past six months he had taken very few pictures, had sold his enlarger, and had given all his chemicals and trays to Snuffy. Now it looked as if all his old camera‑bug enthusiasm had suddenly returned.
While Karl was preparing his camera, I was heeding his advice and preparing myself for another PK demonstration by again focusing my mind on that most wondrous of all experiences in my memory‑the Macro contact. I felt the tiredness dissipate in that infinite ocean of omnipotent and omniscient universal mind. Soon I felt refreshed and ready to try teleporting my journal again.
“All right,” Karl said, shifting the angle of his flash attachment, “I’m ready to start taking pictures so you can start your levitation act any time you’re ready.”
I looked at this journal lying on my lap, then reached out with my mental hands and suddenly lifted it almost to the ceiling. There were a number of flashes as Karl leaped about almost frantically taking pictures from every possible angle. I moved the journal to various parts of the room with Karl bobbing about either beneath, beside, or above it leaving a trail of used flashbulbs behind.
Finally I realized that I was getting too tired to continue, so I maneuvered the journal back to the table from which I had originally moved it. I dropped it the last ten inches or so and it landed with a sharp slapping sound. I lay back in my chair, more exhausted even than after my first pebble‑moving experience back in 2150. Now I could only hope that the pictures would turn out well enough to prove once and for all that my PK ability was real, and so, therefore, were my dream experiences of the 2150 Macro society.
“You better rest,” Karl said, “then have something to eat. I’ll be up at Snuffy’s developing these pictures.”
With these words Karl was out the door and I spent the next half‑hour slowly recuperating my strength with the help of Macro contact memory.
Later as I fixed a couple of sandwiches and leisurely ate them, I wondered how my PK demonstrations would affect Karl’s attitude toward my dream experiences. Would even all the pictures he took manage to overcome Karl’s deep‑seated skepticism? After all, I thought, if he accepts this evidence as demonstrating the validity of my experiences in 2150 it will undermine his micro beliefs about the nature of man and ultimate reality.
It wouldn’t be easy to give up the view of psychology, sociology, and anthropology that man was merely a highly complex animal whose behavior is determined by the accidents of birth and environment.
Having finished my sandwiches, I decided to bring my journal up to date with my most recent experiences here in 1976. As I wrote I kept stopping every once in a while, wondering how I could help those who were caught in a micro view of themselves and the world about them. I thought of some of my professors in psychology and sociology and remembered how they prided themselves on their scientific objectivity. Yet they refused to even consider any evidence of parapsychology, which claimed the existence of non‑physical phenomena such as clairvoyance, telepathy, PK, and precognition‑all modern heresy to the behavioral sciences of 1976. But what would it take to convince them, I wondered, or would they have to die and be replaced by more highly evolved incarnating souls? That was the answer C.I. had given me, but it seemed rather cold‑blooded to resign yourself to waiting for a whole generation to die off.
When I finally finished my writing it was almost time for me to go to sleep again. I wondered what was detaining Karl. Had something gone wrong with the developing? I was just getting ready to call Snuffy’s room when Karl opened the door, waving a handful of pictures.
“Here’s the proof,” he said, shaking his head. “Here’s the concrete proof of your PK ability and, I suppose, the evidence to support the reality of your dream experiences.”
“What took you so long?” I asked.
“Well, by the time I had the pictures developed,” Karl replied, “Snuffy had gone out so I had his apartment all to myself to do a little uninterrupted thinking. Besides, he had fried up a bunch of chicken and suggested I finish it off. So I ate fried chicken and examined these pictures carefully to see if I could honestly remain skeptical about what you’ve been writing down in that journal of yours.”
“And what did you decide?” I asked.
“That it’s going to be the toughest decision I’ve ever made,” Karl replied. “In fact, if I accept the validity of 2150 and its Macro society, I’m going to have to either look for a new profession or be damned careful to hide my new beliefs from my fellow behavioral scientists.”
“You don’t think that I could demonstrate my Macro powers to other behavioral scientists?” I queried.
“Ha!” Karl said, “I may be considering, adopting some mighty crazy ideas, but I’m not crazy enough to think anyone else is going to buy them. For example, for the last twenty‑five years, some very detailed evidence from some highly reputable individuals has been presented on U.F.O. phenomena, and the very ‘respectable’ scientific associations refuse to take it seriously. Now here I am, a budding Ph.D., giving serious consideration to stories a lot more far‑out than UFOs. Oh, lord, Jon, I’m going to hell in a hand basket!”
“Congratulations, Karl,” I said. “You’ll make a Macro philosopher yet!”
“Does being a Macro philosopher mean that you believe in things that almost everyone else calls crazy?” Karl asked.
“Sometimes,” I answered, “but more importantly, the Macro philosopher does not shut his mind to anything. He realizes that truth is always a function of the size of one’s perspective. That is, the larger your perspective, the more truths you can comprehend.”
“I’m going to bed, and I’ll think about that and about what these pictures mean,” Karl replied. “I’ve had a hard day. My philosophy of life is being pulled up by the roots‑maybe destroyed for good.”
I, too, headed for bed, looking forward to getting back to 2150.
Once in bed, however, I found it difficult to stop thinking about the day’s events‑particularly my experience at the supermarket. Try as I did, it was impossible to forget my own fear, frustration, and anxiety during my confrontation with the angry woman and the store manager. I had to admit that if I really had been able to practice a Macro perspective, these negative feelings would not have occurred. I would have been able to completely demonstrate loving acceptance. How would I ever reach third‑level awareness if I responded to threats as I had this afternoon?
I shook my head sadly as I realized that the real test of high‑level Macro awareness was not accepting with love the members of the Macro society‑that was easy but accepting with love micro man. That was the greatest challenge of all.
The one commandment of the philosopher‑tutor, Jesus, to love one another‑even your enemies‑had always seemed to me a ridiculously impossible commandment. And it w
as impossible for micro man‑only the highest Macro levels could consistently demonstrate this when living among micro man. Now I understood why many members of the Macro society volunteered to teach and counsel on Micro Island. Would I have to do that, I wondered? I’ll think about that later, I thought, as my mind finally wound down and accepted sleep.
CHAPTER 10: Jon’s Past Lives
I awakened to the sight of Carol and the two children just entering the pool. I knew that, once again, only a few seconds had passed in the year 2150 while I had experienced a whole day, from morning to night, in 1976. I wondered if I would ever understand the concept of subjective simultaneous time.
Surprisingly, the few seconds of sleep in 2150 had reduced my fatigue. I decided to join Carol and the children in the pool.
Before reaching the edge of the pool I removed my tunic and dropped it down an opening provided for this purpose. It would travel to the underground cleaning plant, be washed, and be returned to this recreation area. As I stood naked at the side of the pool I was pleased to realize that I no longer felt uncomfortable at my nudity‑even in front of the children. Since everyone swam naked and strolled about the pool naked, I would have felt uncomfortable if I had been clothed.
I located Carol at the far end of the pool some 100 yards away. Diving in, I swam toward her. I had never enjoyed swimming as much as running, but after the loss of my leg, when I could no longer run, I found swimming very satisfying. Swimming with two strong legs was even more so, and I reached Carol feeling more refreshed than when I had entered the water.
We played water tag with Neal and Jean. Their agility in the water was remarkable. Like young seals, they seemed equally at ease above or below the surface, so without Carol’s help the game of tag would have been no contest at all. After about fifteen minutes of this delightful but strenuous activity, I climbed out and lay down on the soft mats beside the pool. Shortly Carol joined me and we lay side by side in the warm sun watching the seemingly inexhaustible children continue the game.
Suddenly I was aware of a tingling in my Macro identity bracelet. I looked first at it, then at Carol, who said, “It’s C.I. calling you.”
I lifted it to my ear and heard C.I. request that I meet with Lea back at my C.I. room overlooking the lake. Then I heard Lea’s soft resonant voice saying that she was already at the C.I. center and would be waiting for me.
“I’ll be right there, Lea,” I said and started to get up to run back to the research building when Carol reached out to stop me.
“There’s a faster way,” she said. “Come with me.”
We stopped at the clothing rack, where Carol picked up a freshly cleaned tunic for herself and one for me. As we slipped into these, Carol led me toward the exit of the recreation area.
As we ran I picked up the telepathic farewells from the children and returned them, expressing my happiness at having met them and my hope of seeing them again soon.
Carol said that we would probably be seeing them every afternoon. By this time we were near the exit and Carol was pointing to a red ten‑foot metal‑looking square on the ground. We stepped into the middle of this and, as Carol used PK to push a button at the edge of the. square, we disappeared into the ground.
Neither metal nor cement was used in any of the buildings. What looked like metal, cement, or marble was all some sort of synthetic material which could be molded into almost any shape and strength to stand up under tremendous loads: Our red square turned out to be another void that took us down almost 300 feet below ground to their subway area.
As we swiftly descended Carol informed me that we would use one of their two‑seated subway cars which would take us the almost three‑mile distance to the research building in less than two minutes.
We walked to a torpedo‑shaped bubble containing two large comfortable seats, which, as we sat in them, enfolded us. Carol turned a dial to a setting marked C.I., pushed it in, and our bubble car seemed to rise on a column of air into an opening above us. Then in complete darkness I had the sensation of tremendous acceleration for a moment followed by great deceleration and then we were getting out.
Walking to the middle of another red platform we rose to the surface just outside the entrance of the learning center. It was all so fast that my impressions were still rather garbled.
Carol left me, saying that she would see me back at our Alpha. I hurried into the building and up to what I now thought of as “my” C.I. room. As I opened the door I saw my beautiful twin soul standing by the window turn quickly with a smile. My heart seemed to contract, my breathing accelerated, and tears stung my eyes.
“Lea,” I said, “you are the loveliest, most exciting woman in the world. I can’t think of words that really describe how I feel about you.”
“You are me, Jon,” she replied, “my twin soul, and you don’t have to tell me how you feel. They are my feelings, too.”
We stood silently, then reached out with our minds to each other and felt the strange and delightful sensations of mind contact.
As we slowly disengaged from our deep mind contact I could not help comparing Lea’s fair‑complexioned blond beauty with the dark loveliness of Carol. I compared Lea with the sun and Carol with the moon and knew that, while they were as different as the sun and moon, I loved them both.
Seeing the dancing lights in the blue eyes before me I knew that my thoughts were shared.
“I’m glad,” Lea said, “that you have learned that Macro love is not limited to one person.”
“I still don’t understand it, Lea,” I replied, “how I can love you both in such similar and yet different ways. Then to realize, by actually experiencing your feeling, that you really have no jealousy even as you observe me comparing your physical and mental attributes with Carol’s.”
Lea nodded her lovely blond head. “I know,” she said, “that you would not be able to believe this possible if you had not developed telepathy. But then, it’s easier for twin souls because it would be impossible for me to be jealous of myself.”
“Oh, Lea,” I cried out, taking her in my arms, “how am I going to do it? I have only three months. The possibility of losing you is more than I can handle. I never want to live separated from you again.”
“But, Jon,” she laughed softly, “have you never heard that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”
“How can you take it so lightly?” I asked.
“Because, Jon,” she replied, “I know that the only separation possible exists at the micro levels‑never at the Macro ones. We can be separated by time and space, but never in the Macro depths of our minds.”
“All right,” I stated, “there’s my greatest motivation for developing Macro awareness‑so I will never have to feel separate from you again.”
“The reason I asked you here today,” she said, “is that both Rana and I feel you are ready to remember a few of your past lives.”
“Terrific!” I said, “When do we start?”
“Right now,” she replied. “Sit down and we’ll ask C.I. to provide the stimuli for Macro contact.”
She picked up my thought and said, “Macro contact can be achieved without either sexual union or even touching. This is fortunate because if we joined sexually now it ‑would diminish your desire for Macro contact so greatly that it would probably be impossible for you to attain third‑level awareness in the short time allotted.”
“Then, you mean we can’t share Macro immersion until I demonstrate third‑level awareness?” I asked.
“Not and be able to permanently bridge the time barrier that separates us now,” she replied. “But that only means we have less than three months to wait, and we can do that since it means a lifetime of being together thereafter in the Macro society.”
As she finished these last words, C.I. began the now familiar visual and audio stimuli which helped produce such vast mind expansion. Very quickly I found myself flowing like a river through infinite space un
til I was joined by Lea and we were again one mind and one soul.
Then in my mind I heard Lea say that we would be going back in time until we reached a point where my soul had incarnated into a prehistoric Chinese culture.
Suddenly I found myself both experiencing the body of a thirty‑year‑old Chinese slave trader and simultaneously, observing from outside that body. I knew that I was a cruel and vicious person who took pleasure in the ill treatment of the slaves whom I owned and traded. Scene after scene of brutal, degrading treatment of others passed before my eyes and I felt sick with self‑hatred and shame. Then I died and suffered the miserable existence of sharing the low astral planes with similar depraved personalities like myself until I was born again into one of the earliest Egyptian dynasties.
I became aware of this next incarnation when I again saw and simultaneously experienced myself as a giant black Numidean slave working in the stone quarries of the Pharaoh. Unfortunately my physical vitality was tremendous, so I lived scores of years in extremely hard labor with many cruel slave masters who seemed to delight in laying their whips upon my massive back and shoulders. Finally, and mercifully, I died.
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