Mesopotamia - The Redeemer

by Yehuda Israely

  “This is Truth, the ship's commander. What do you know of our desire?” he asked dryly.

  “You are interested in connecting an object in your possession with an object that is in ours. We would also like to learn more about you. Is it not in your interest to learn more about the particle processor?”

  'I have nothing to lose,' he thought. 'After all, there seems to be no military threat. There's no reason to rush into things if the naive Pythagoreans are readily willing to host us, it would only improve our intelligence. If there is a possibility of danger, on the slight chance that the module will not fit the processor, it would be worth our while to send in an agent. More intelligence can only bring us closer to our ultimate goal.'

  Truth chose his words carefully. “We will send our delegate to you and he will inform you about everything you need to know about us. You will do the same for him.”

  Sophia immediately responded, “A scout is on his way to you now. He will guide whichever spacecraft you choose. We are happy to facilitate mutual understanding. Thank you for your trust.”

  Sophia ended the transmission.

  Truth knew immediately who he would choose for the job. 'An expert on evasion will know how to escape when it becomes necessary,' he thought. This unexpected development made him uncomfortable. This woman had dominated the conversation from beginning to end. He tried to ignore the feeling and the fact that her behavior differed from the general restraint among the Gnostic women. 'A spy within Samos may give us a significant advantage,' he consoled himself. 'We still don't know exactly how to connect the module with the processor. Whatever information we gather could save us hours or even days of work.'

  “Smoke, are you listening?”

  “I'm listening.”

  Truth updated him about the conversation with Sophia. “Stay close to the scout. Enter Samos. Memorize the way to get in. Collect all possible information about the Pythagoreans and about Samos, but mainly about the particle processor and how it operates. They will want information about us and they'll have questions. If they ask you about yourself, answer openly. We have no reason to be suspicious of them. If they ask you about the mission, refer them to me. Tell them that you don't know. You are permitted to kill yourself, at your discretion, if it increases our chances of completing our mission. Under no circumstances are you to damage the particle processor. Smoke, confirm!”

  “Smoke confirms.”

  “Keep up contact,” continued Truth. “Make your first communication in one hour from now. The time of invasion will be determined according to the developments that you report. Confirm!”

  “Smoke confirms.”

  “May the Master of Light be with you.”

  Smoke had complete faith in his commander. He steered his spacecraft next to that of Thales, which had accelerated towards Samos. The scout turned on a red beam of light and flipped his spacecraft on its axis. They then found themselves on the inner wall of the outer sphere looking towards the inner sphere. Smoke marveled at the beams of light, which vibrated in different rhythms with varying colors and shades. The scout broke free, rolled over, hovered over the red beam of light and then spun on his axis again. The process was repeated at each of the six spheres of light. Smoke finally saw the station, like a pearl resting in shades of white, gray, pink and blue; shades that wove in and out of each other, fabricating a bright shell. As they approached, Smoke realized that it was not a solid structure. The spheres were in fact broad, round rings, like orbs cut short on both sides, revolving around the inner spheres, which were wrapped around even more spheres. Smoke admired the exquisite workmanship and the engineering that went into this marvelous structure.

  When they landed on the inner wall of the seventh sphere, which was a solid surface, the scout invited Smoke to exit his aircraft. He found himself in a vast hall. Almost everything he saw around him bore the same colors as what he had seen outside: pink, silver and gray.

  “Welcome to Samos. I am Sophia.” A woman in pale blue smiled and approached him.

  Smoke recoiled and pushed her arm away when she tried to place her hand on his shoulder, as was customary of the host. She knew this was the expected response, but nonetheless she was surprised to encounter it. 'This will be difficult,' she thought.

  Smoke regretted his impulsive reaction. Truth had instructed him on how to act and stick to every detail. Next time, he would allow the woman to put her arms around him and would suffer through the pain of her gentle touch. Despite the dizziness that came over him, despite the touch that chilled him to the bone, despite the pain beating in his brain due to the calming music enveloping everything around him, he forced himself to speak with the terse formality typical of the Gnostics. After all, he was a warrior and deputy to the leader of the Gnostic forces.

  “The honor is mine. I am Smoke.”

  Sophia wondered as to whether now was the right time to inquire as to why he seemed so bothered. Was this typical Gnostic behavior? Perhaps he was uncomfortable in his new surroundings and she could help him. She decided to ask him, “Can I do something for you?”

  His lips moved tensely. “Yes, can you turn off this noise?”

  “Certainly.” She touched a control panel and the music went silent. His youthful appearance surprised her. She had expected someone repulsive. His black suit was lined with metal, full of pockets and zippers. Initially, he had appeared sinister to her. He was of medium build and his suit outlined a lean and muscular body. A second glance revealed a man of delicate beauty. His long black hair was pulled back in a bun. His black eyes conveyed strength and aggression, but at the same time she saw a certain innocence within them. Most of all, she was surprised by the grace of his movements beneath his rigidity.

  Smoke felt dizzy. He searched for something to focus on in order to steady himself. Although he was an experienced pilot, nothing could have prepared him for this. The smooth pearlescent hues surrounding him were devoid of any sharp corners or anything distinct, so he could not rest his gaze upon anything remotely solid.

  Sophia naturally took hold of his hand, ignored his disoriented state and led him away. This time, he found it very difficult to hold back his resistance.

  “We are on the surface sphere, which serves as the entrance and exit for the station. I will take you to the particle processor in the processor sphere. No doubt you were sent here for that reason.”

  Sophia assumed there was no risk in exposing the processor. In any case, she would not reveal any technological secrets or formulas. This way, she would gain more time to influence him. She led him downward on connecting paths between the spheres.

  “The processor is designed to create any object from any material, provided that we have the particle specifications. The particle specification is the basis, or musical score, upon which we play,” Sophia explained as they walked through the labyrinth of Samos.

  Smoke felt sick. It seemed abominable, like the demonic workings of the demiurge that created a corrupt, physical world.

  “Anything?” Smoke marveled at how easily she had revealed the functions of the processor without inhibition. 'Truth was right,' he thought to himself. 'These Pythagoreans are as pacifist and naive as newly hatched chicks. We can gain control of the processor without any difficulty.'

  “We are still in the research stage, but we can create just about anything.”

  “What is this score you speak of?”

  “The score is the notes in the hands of the conductor, by which an orchestra creates a melody. A diagram of the material structure we want to create serves as a score. The processor reads the notes and creates the material according to the design. Would you like to see?”

  He stood silent. It took her a moment to realize that he had to abstain from any act of creation.

  “I will show you,” she said confidently, without waiting for a reply. She stopped by one of the monitors scattered around the station. “We will create a small cube of metal.” She pressed several buttons on the monitor a
nd the screen filled with small, dense symbols. After several more keystrokes, the symbols on the screen changed.

  “The spherical movement creates a field of frequencies which specifically arranges the spaces in the processor to create the object. Let's see if the cube is ready.”

  She took his hand in hers again and continued walking.

  Only one bridge led the way to a massive iron door in the central orb of the station. The orb's diameter was about sixty meters; it floated in the center of the sphere and appeared to be a colorful, metallic liquid. Sophia and Smoke stopped at the outer rim of the bridge.

  “This is the processor,” she pointed to the orb. “It contains millions upon millions of orbs of all sizes, which contain more orbs down to the size of subatomic particles. Raw matter passes between the orbs.”

  He was thrilled at what he saw. “What matter?” he gently inquired.

  “Stardust. The processor breaks down the dust to its elementary components, which are then divided until there is empty space. According to the score, the processor connects the molecules to compose the sub-atomic, atomic, molecular or genetic elements, resulting in a cube.” She put her hand into a niche in the wall next to the processor and pulled out a cube the size of two cubic centimeters. She offered it to him but he refused.

  He wanted to look at the orb and its metallic liquid, but Sophie led him onward and he pulled his eyes away. She led him into the sphere's passageway.

  “Sometimes, before we create something in the processor, we envision it in the simulator.”

  “The simulator?” he asked.

  “I'll show you.”

  Being in close proximity to Sophia bothered him. He still held a picture of the orb in his mind's eye. They passed through a narrow opening into an orb, the inside of which was covered in screens of different colors.

  “Welcome to the simulator. Here you can see just about anything you can imagine. Here you can choose a symphony with notes we possess and simulate it, or you can improvise.”

  “How do you improvise?” Smoke remembered it was his mission to gather information, but his own curiosity had also been piqued. She detected as much, but she reminded herself that she had to be careful, that she mustn't stop him or avoid his questions. 'Don't point him in the right direction. Allow him to take the lead.'

  “You can choose between a number of possibilities, input directions, paint or draw on the screen; but you can also let the simulator sense your thoughts, imagination or feelings. The simulator will then translate all of that into sights and sounds.” Sophia had to force herself to avoid all eye contact with him, lest she be stirred by any emotion.

  “The simulator knows what I'm feeling?” His curiosity could not hide the panic he felt.

  Sophia noticed how his wording had become more personal and that he had used the word “I”. She could now refer to him in the second person.

  “In a sense, you're right. It knows how to transform your will into a visual form, which it then projects by holograph. If it identifies specific objects, it can translate whatever is in your mind into something concrete.”

  “How does the simulator know what I'm thinking?”

  “It tracks the electro-chemical activity in your mind. It translates this activity through a neurological network, including the quantum microtubules in every neuron of your brain, and assembles everything into a holographic vision. Would you like to try to imagine something?”

  Sophia waited quietly. She hoped the silence would induce some sort of tension and that he would feel the need to express himself.

  With restrained anger, Smoke measured out his words. “To create, to generate, is an abomination!” he said in disgust. His body stood tense and rigid but his face suddenly fell.

  “Why?” she asked, trying to elicit a response from him.

  It worked.

  “The world was created by the aeon Yaldabaoth, the sinful boy, who created the world in order to rebel against his mother Ishtar. Yaldabaoth created the physical world and was then punished with banishment to the inferior world he had created.” Smoke slightly raised his voice in anger. “When you suggest that I create something, you are asking me to violate the sanctity of my faith.”

  'As Enosh speculated, Smoke is now placing me in the position of the one who demands something of him,' she said to herself.

  “I only suggested that you imagine, thereby giving holographic form to a useful object. I never suggested that you create. I recognize full well what it means to create, but I would never suggest that you create.” Again there was a pervading silence, except this time she sensed a slight danger. Perhaps she hinted too openly about him wanting to create something?'I won't strain him any more than is necessary,' Sophia thought.

  “It is possible to learn how to use the simulator without connecting it to the processor. I understand that your religion forbids creation. I would never ask you to act against your faith. The purpose of your coming was to learn from us and offer us the opportunity to learn from you. If your commander objects to you learning about the simulator, we shall avoid the subject altogether.”

  He was angry because he realized she was right, that she was one step ahead of him. He continued to look at her face, to question her through her eyes. He was not accustomed to the presence of a woman which provided anything other than sexual relief.

  “I will take you to the residential sphere. There you can rest, eat and drink, as well as make contact with Truth.”

  “Smoke to Truth.”

  “Truth here.”

  “Status report: the entrance to the station is via spheres of light, six in total, which surround the five spheres of matter. From the outside inward, these spheres consist of the surface sphere, command sphere, residential sphere, processing sphere, and core.”

  “Listening. Continue!”

  “Penetration through the outer spheres is indeed as we suspected. The pilots need to synchronize their acceleration with that of the beams of light, to attach themselves to the beams via electromagnetic hooks, to turn onto the internal side of the sphere and from there to leap to the internal sphere and so on. You have to repeat the process for each of the six external spheres of light until you can anchor on the surface sphere.”

  “Listening. Continue!”

  “The processor is a huge orb and at its center is empty space. It is located in the processor room, behind a huge iron door. Sometimes the door is closed. You can open it via terminals that are found in the simulator, in the control center, or within the processor room itself. I think that the module can only connect to the terminal found in the processor room.”

  “Continue.”

  “The processor generates objects according to particle specifications. The particle specifications are the basis to the external spherical movement and vibrations which create the core matter of the processor. This is also the reason for the music surrounding the station.”

  “Go on!”

  “Regarding her hospitality, it would appear that the female Sophia does not suspect our true intentions. She has openly revealed to me the station, the processor and how everything works. She even invited me to create an object with the processor.” Smoke paused. He was afraid of the reaction he would get for Sofia’s offer to violate the Gnostic prohibition of creation.

  “Listening...” Smoke anxiously waited for Truth's confirmation. “Go on!”

  “The Simulator system allows you to create holographic images of the object before its creation. The simulator is the basis for the creation of any object on the condition that it can simulate that object.” Truth did not respond. Smoke was forced to beg the question, “Should I cooperate?”

  “Of course. Cooperate as much as you can so you may learn more about the Pythagoreans, the station, the processor and the simulator. You are forbidden to create,” he said flatly. “What else did you learn regarding integrating the module with the processor?”

  “I have no more information at this time.”

&
nbsp; “Keep it up, Smoke.”

  Smoke loved Truth. He was glad to hear his voice and was moved against his will by the momentary weakness that had caused Truth to give him a rare compliment. Ever since he had lost his family, Truth was the closest person he had. The most important thing was for him to justify the faith Truth had in him. He was fully determined not to disappoint Truth; he would fool the female, creating a false pretense of cooperation so that he could win her confidence, and learn to the best of his abilities everything he could pass over to Truth. “At your command, Commander!”

  “In the name of the Master of Light, redeem the spark of light from the impurity of the material. Over and out!”

  Smoke tried to understand what Sophia was touching on the transparent panel, but could not. After a few taps on the keyboard, a cobalt-blue color filled the room.

  “Welcome to the simulator. This is a background for the beginning of a simulation. The simulator provides a visual presentation of the object you want to create.”

  “Listen to me carefully,” he shot her a savage look. “I am prepared to use the simulator, but don't try to trick me into creating something.”

  Overcoming the trepidation she felt under his stare, she responded calmly, “Don't worry. As I said before, you can use it without creating.”

  “How does it work?” asked Smoke.

  Once again, Sophia tapped on the transparent board. A thin horizontal strip of yellow-white fog developed on the brim of a blue sky.

  “What's this?” Smoke asked.

  “I was going to ask you,” Sophia smiled. “I set the control center to display simulations of expressions in your mind. Do you recognize anything?” she casually asked.

  Smoke was shocked. He was not prepared for a machine that could read minds, or for a woman to read those thoughts with a machine. But the sanctity of his mission got the better of him. Truth instructed him to make it seem as though he was cooperating, and even though he would have been glad to avoid the intrusions of this simulator on his mind, he braced himself: he would obey orders.