I made one more visit to the police station, at which time I discovered that the police had made an exhaustive study of my life history which did not support the theory that I was a kidnapper and murderer. As a crippled Vietnam War veteran and a respected graduate student who was more interested in his studies and doctoral research than in girls, campus politics, or student hijinks, I didn’t fit their concept of the criminal type at all.
By the end of the week when Karl called, I was so optimistic about my relations with the police that I told him our problems were over and to enjoy his honeymoon. However, he insisted on returning with Neda so he could finish teaching his classes. They returned on Sunday and moved into Neda’s apartment as Mr. and Mrs. Karl Johnson. The following morning Karl resumed his teaching and Neda resumed her typing. While Karl and Neda were interviewed by the police, I managed to be present during the questioning and succeeded in convincing them that these two people could not possibly have been connected with the disappearance of Neda Cricksley..
So ended Neda Cricksley.
The case of the missing co‑ed and the recovery of the bodies of the other two brought the fear and tension of our university community to a fever pitch and provided me with my second precognitive experience.
It was on Sunday, exactly one week after Karl and Neda had returned, that I awakened with a clairvoyant impression of Central Park not far from the 109th Street
entrance. I clearly saw two vicious‑looking men chasing a young girl. In the vision I knew that these two men were responsible for the rape‑murders of the two co‑eds whose bodies had recently been discovered. I woke with a sense of urgency that I must get to the park immediately. It was only a matter of minutes before my precognitive dream would become a material reality.
Ten minutes later I approached the park wishing that I had my magnificent 2150 body. It was a little before 7 a.m. and the park appeared to be deserted. I realized that I could spend a long time wandering through it without seeing anyone at this time of day.
Then I began using my telepathic power like a radar to sweep ahead of me through the heavily wooded park. I must have walked along the concrete paths for almost ten minutes before I picked up the thoughts of a young girl whom I could not see because of a rise between us.
As I focused my mind more closely on hers I realized that she was riding a new bicycle along the paths of the park. She had been doing this every morning and evening, before and after school, since she received it as a gift for her thirteenth birthday recently.
I stopped walking in order to concentrate all my energies on telepathic contact with the girl. I waited right where I was, since I felt she would soon be riding into view over the ridge nearby. The trees stood sharply black against the cold morning sky. A recent thaw had melted most of the snow, leaving isolated dirty little piles around clumps of shrubbery or beside walkways.
Suddenly my mind contact with the little girl chilled my bones. She was being harassed by two men on motorcycles.
I visualized my body as feather‑light and started a grotesque hobble‑run that soon brought me to the top of the ridge. I looked down upon a wooded path and saw the girl running through the trees followed by two shaggy‑haired young men in grimy motorcycle togs, just as they had appeared in my vision.
The little girl had left her bicycle behind in hope of finding protection among the trees, but the men had abandoned their cycles and were fast overtaking her.
I reached out to touch their minds and encountered lust and menacing glee as the tall one with a long droopy mustache caught a handful of the girl’s long blond hair. I watched with mounting horror as this dark‑visaged man slammed the girl to the ground, then, clasping both hands about her waist, lifted her like a banner high in the air.
His pudgy companion grabbed her and began slapping her with huge hamlike hands as they both ripped at her clothing.
Suddenly red waves of rage crashed through my mind. I slipped back in time and became, once again, the Indian medicine man fighting white soldiers who were raping and killing the women and children of my tribe. I found myself running faster and faster toward these monstrous invaders.
Suddenly my elbows dug into the hard wet ground and I cursed my crippled body for failing me. I was still some thirty yards from the enemy.
The little girl’s heart‑rending scream of anguish snapped me back to the present, and I shouted at her assailants as I struggled to my feet.
They looked up at me with surprise. The pudgy one laughed at the audacity of a one‑legged man trying to interfere with the two of them. I headed toward him. When he was within ten feet I launched myself at his legs, managing to knock him down. We rolled about on the ground as this pudgy‑faced youth tried to get room to slam his fists into me. I tried to stay close and harkened back to my army hand‑to‑hand combat training. I felt his huge fist slam against the side of my head, and for a couple of moments was lucky just to be able to hold onto him. My rage had made me clumsy, but now with cold angry ferocity I began slashing at his face and throat with short powerful karate chops.
With a scream of frustration and pain he broke away from me and got to his feet. They were shod with heavy lethal‑looking boots. I telepathically picked up his murderous thought of stomping the life out of me with them. This gave me the split‑second margin I needed, and the boot whizzed harmlessly past my face. I grabbed it and with a sharp twist brought him to the ground. Before he could recover I began slamming my fist into his jaw with all the strength of my rage. How long I kept at this I don’t know, but another scream from the girl brought me to my senses and I realized that I was beating at an unconscious face. As I looked up, the tall fellow was sprawled on top of the little girl mauling her small round breast with one hand as he tore at the last bits of her clothing with the other.
I was up and bounding toward him, my voice shrieking madly at the top of my lungs. He leaped to his feet and came charging toward me shouting obscenities. Again I threw a body block and we fell to the ground, but this time my opponent was too quick for me and I found myself pinned to the ground with a leering mustached face bending over me as two powerful hands dug into my throat slamming my head into the ground again and again. I redoubled my efforts to break loose, but his hands were like manacles and his arms like heavy steel. Things were getting blurry . . . there was no air, and only one hope. I let my body go completely slack.
For a moment the iron grip on my neck continued, then with one last painful thrust, relaxed. As I tried to maintain some degree of consciousness I felt his hot face above mine. My thumbs leaped for his eyes and scored two agonizing hits.
With a piercing scream he fell backward and began rolling about on the ground in frantic pain‑driven frustration. I tried to breathe deeply to recover as much strength as possible, then as he rolled toward me I raised both my arms and with every ounce of desperate strength slammed my hard wrists down on the back of his neck.
There was a sharp snap and his body went limp.
I staggered to my feet and hobbled wearily to where the girl lay naked on the cold wet ground. She had either fainted or been knocked unconscious, but she had not been raped.
I dressed her in the torn clothing, then wrapped her in my top coat and began reaching out for her unconscious mind. When I contacted the fear and terror there I sent powerful reassurances that all was well and that she was completely safe. Using PK and clairvoyance I worked with her body to speed up the healing of her bruises. Soon her eyelids began to flutter.
As she opened her eyes I began speaking softly but confidently about how she was all right now and would be able to ride her bicycle home without any trouble. I helped her to her feet and made sure that her own coat was buttoned as well as possible with its remaining buttons, before retrieving my own. With both my vocal and telepathic reassurances she mounted her bike, thanked me for helping her, and rode quickly off toward her home.
I had considered having her call the police and confront her att
ackers at the police station, but decided to spare her that ordeal. Instead I decided to deal with her assailants myself. What I was going to do with them I wasn’t sure, but I decided to start by taking them back with me to our fourth‑floor. apartment, which was vacant. There I could confine them till I decided what to do with them. First, however, I would have to heal them and set up hypnotic control of their actions so they would obey me.
I walked back to where my last adversary lay sprawled out and began my clairvoyant examination of his injuries. It didn’t take long to realize that he was dying from a broken neck. I began working to repair the damage before it was too late. I had learned from C.I. that the healing powers of the greater mind are unlimited if used properly. The problem was to stop the struggle of the patient’s micro self so that the healing process could take place. In less than thirty minutes I succeeded in completely healing his neck. While this would have been considered very slow by 2150 standards, I was satisfied, having done the very best I could. Before permitting him to regain consciousness I planted powerful subconscious suggestions of obedience to me. I sensed that his name was Griff.
His pudgy‑faced companion, Judd, was still unconscious with a broken jaw, so I resumed my healing efforts. Again I was able to reach deep into his mind and still the unconscious struggle. Then working with his gland and nerve centers, I released the great healing forces. His jaw was soon healed and his mind had accepted my hypnotic control of his actions. He demonstrated his obedience by quietly getting to his feet and going to his motorcycle.
Returning Griff to consciousness, I started him toward his, motorcycle also. Then, with me‑riding behind Griff and directing him, we made our way back to the apartment building with Judd close behind. Entering the seldom‑used rear door, we made it up to the fourth floor without being seen. Once inside the apartment, I told them they could not leave without my permission and suggested that they go to sleep until I awakened them. Walking down to my third‑floor apartment, I took my weary body to bed.
For the first time in almost two months I went to sleep and did not wake up in 2150. Instead I had a dream in which I saw Lea standing at the foot of my bed looking sadly down at me.
“Why do you look so sad?” I asked.
“Because I could not bring you to 2150 this time,” she replied. “Your anger has broken the time‑space translation loop.”
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
“I mean that your vicious treatment of those two men this morning lowered your vibration rate so much that it is now impossible for us to translate your vibrations into our time dimension,” Lea explained.
“You mean that just because I protected that little girl from certain rape, and probable murder, I can’t return to you and the Macro family? That’s impossible! That wouldn’t be fair at all,” I protested, sure that there had been some mistake.
“You’re right, Jon. It certainly wouldn’t be fair if just protecting the child prevented your translation,” she answered. “It’s not all that simple, though. You protected her not with the love and acceptance of a Macro perspective, but rather with the hate and rage of your micro self.”
“But I couldn’t fight them at the Macro level. What else could I have done?” I asked.
“At the Macro level,” she answered, “you would not have needed to fight them, only restore the imbalance of their minds.”
“But I couldn’t possibly restore balance to their depraved minds. They’re monsters!!” I defended.
“So you acquiesced to your limiting beliefs, condemned them for their micro violence, then fought them with your own micro violence,” Lea stated.
Suddenly I felt an agony of pain in my jaw and neck. I was shocked to find they were broken! Then in my mind I heard the voice of Rana. “Pass no judgment, and you will not be judged. For as you judge others, so will you yourself be judged, and whatever measure you deal out to others will be dealt back to you in return. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye with never a thought for the great plank in your own?”
“All right,” I said, “I’m experiencing the pain that I inflicted this morning. But they deserved it.”
“Of course they did,” Lea replied, “but only micro man punishes. You are dooming yourself to live in a micro world as long as you desire a micro way of life.”
“Does this mean that I’ve forfeited my chance to live in the Macro society?” I asked.
“You won’t be able to return to 2150 until you’ve balanced the negative vibrations you created within your essential self,” she explained. “If, within a month you succeed in positively balancing today’s negative actions, you may return to continue seeking level‑three awareness. However, now that you have broken the time‑space translation loop it will take a great deal of energy to reestablish it. This will probably reduce the amount of time you have left in 2150.”
“I’m so sorry, Lea. I didn’t mean to louse things up. I just couldn’t help myself. I could do the same thing over again . . . I just mustn’t. I’ve got to grow, and I’d better start by balancing the negative vibrations I’ve set up. How can I do that, Lea?” I asked.
She smiled sadly. “If you don’t know the answer to that question by now, Jon, you might as well give up hope of experiencing 2150 again in this lifetime.”
With these words ringing in my mind I awakened to an excruciating pain in my jaw and neck. Fortunately for me, I had healed my victims so that their pain had not lasted long. I remembered that according to the law of karma my own pain must soon pass, too. Then I realized. that my perspective must have suffered a terrible blow, for I hadn’t thought in terms of karma since my first week in 2150! That’s when I first learned that karma is only valid from a less than Macro point of view.
As these thoughts entered my mind the pain began to diminish, and it was not long before I was completely free of the misery I had inflicted upon myself.
While I was free of one pain, the thought of being forever separated from my new world would, I knew, prove far more painful in the long run. Somehow I had to learn how to balance my negative vibrations and I was sure that my best chance of doing this lay upstairs with the hoodlums I had captured. If I forced them to go to the police and confess to the rape‑murders of the two co‑eds, which my probing of their minds had discovered, maybe that would do it. They would be punished, if not by the electric chair, then by a life term in one of our prisons . . . But that kind of angry vengeance usually fills its victims with even more hate, and from the Macro perspective I knew that those who died with hatred often chose quick rebirth in an attempt at revenge. Thus, what micro man can not see, due to his limited life perspective, is that hate and revenge always produce more hate and more revenge. No, I couldn’t balance my negativity by using micro man’s approach to the problem. That was not the solution. But what was?
I smiled sadly to myself as I recalled that micro man had been given the solution by all his great Macro philosophers. The so‑called Christian nations knew of this as the one commandment that their great Master gave: “Love one another, as I have loved you.”
Shaking my head, I resigned myself to the fact that this one commandment didn’t seem very practical from. a micro point of view. However, I had been exposed to a larger point of view . . . the Macro view . . . which I must now use to solve this problem and, thereby, get back to my beloved Lea in 2150. So I couldn’t turn my two captives over to the police, but I couldn’t turn them loose to continue on their murderous path, either. Could I, I wondered, rehabilitate them?
While I had succeeded in using my Macro powers to heal them and to safely firing them to the apartment, would I now be able to heal their twisted micro minds? I knew that I could control their minds and force them to do only what I commanded, but this would certainly not be rehabilitation, not with me acting as the prison warden of their minds. Somehow I must help them see the long-term painful and unfulfilling consequences of their micro existence. As I searched my mind for a way
of performing this miracle I loaded a tray with bowls, spoons, a carton of milk, and some granola. I picked up the tray and started off to their apartment.
When I entered the room they were still in their hypnotically induced sleep. I quickly awakened them and got them into the kitchen, where we all sat at the kitchen table. At first they eyed me with fear, but this slowly gave way to puzzled bewilderment as I told them that they were my guests and that I had healed their bodies and was about to start trying to heal their minds. I told them that if we succeeded they would be free to live satisfying new lives without fear of the police. If we failed, and I emphasized “we,” to begin developing the idea of a joint venture in which they would have at least equal responsibility, then I could promise nothing but a future filled with misery and unhappiness.
Griff, the tall one, scratched his head and began pulling on his mustache. “Listen, man,” he said finally, “I don’t understand what’s happening. How did you get us to come here with you? And how come you haven’t called the cops?”
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