by John Nelson
When I arrived back at the hotel, I knocked on Emma’s door. She told me to come in; I found her sitting up in bed reading through my manuscript and making notes. She really was taking her assignment seriously, or maybe it was the book itself that interested her—I could only hope. Emma looked up and stared at me for a long moment. “Have a good talk?”
I pulled a chair over to her bed. “Yes, very interesting. She figured that Brenda/Jean’s reaction was caused by a processor geared for behavior modification.”
Emma put down the manuscript and thought about this for a moment. “Are you sure she wasn’t just reading your mind … or energy, or whatever it is she does?”
“No. She said that my description of Brenda’s breakdown was similar to a reaction by an undercover agent, with a modified processor, sent to spy on them.”
“Well, that’s pretty close.” She paused for a moment. “What I got was that this woman is for real, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she can do what Musgrave and his crew claim.”
“Maybe, but I doubt she’s doing it, and we’re just projecting a lot onto her.”
“So where does this leave us?” she asked.
“On the way back from my meeting, I stopped off at one of the overlooks, and the energy coming off the desert felt similar to Maria’s.”
“But you’ve been driving around the desert for months now.”
I wondered about that myself. “I don’t know—could be my long absence and reintroduction to this earth energy accelerated … something in me.”
“You know, Musgrave’s analysis—or what he shared with me—seems too specific to Maria and her group, and could apply to alternative energy medicine in general.”
I had been wondering about that myself. “So, you think it’s a ploy?”
“It’s no doubt a cover, but for what?” Emma asked.
“Well, what if this effect is more pervasive or universal, but she reflects enough of the heightened energy to test Jean and me and gauge its effects on our neural processors as a general test?”
Emma stood up and went over to the window. From the second floor you could see out across the plateau to the surrounding desert. “So this is really about the modern neural processors breaking down and the government in a panic over that?”
I wasn’t sure just how much of my own speculation I could share with her, but I couldn’t figure this out on my own and it was time to trust someone. “Yes, I think so.”
“Well, there’s a way we can test that theory,” she said, turning to me.
“Get another healing?” I asked.
“Not what I’m thinking, but maybe that as well.”
“What then?”
“We could drive up to Sedona for the weekend and check out the vortex energy there, although I’ve heard the whole area is one large vortex now.”
This felt like the right move, and I could almost feel my body tingling at the suggestion. “Yeah. I think you’re right.” Emma was beaming. “Or is this just an excuse for you to go there?” I asked half-seriously.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to. Ling said it’s the jewel of the borny villages, or what’s coming.”
“Definitely then, but let’s not do any research on vortexes at the library and best not question anyone. But our portables are safe to scan the Internet for info.”
“You don’t trust Maria and her group?”
“I trust Maria, but if she’s picked up on us, then maybe the others have, and they might not be as … forgiving.”
For the rest of the week, we went about the business of me writing my novel, and Emma doing research on the book at the library. Friday morning we headed out; it was interesting that Tim, the desk clerk, asked if we’d be away for the weekend. I told him we were playing it by ear. We had definitely been picking up more of a surveillance vibe from the people here this week. Somebody had even tried to hack my portable at the Iguana Café while I was writing there one night, but they couldn’t crack the DOD encryption.
It was only thirty miles to Sedona up Route 89A. We had done an Internet search and were particularly interested in exploring the Cathedral Rock and Bell’s Rock Vortexes; they were both south of the town and not far from each other as the crow flies, but we decided to get a room at an eastside hotel to disguise our intent. As we drove into town, we found it similar to other places in the Southwest, where the economic downturn of years past had winnowed out both the population and its tourist appeal, leaving a group of diehard residents, most of which, from what we’d heard, were now bornies. We stopped at a hydrogen station to recharge the car’s fuel cells, picked up a few brochures and then stopped at a local diner for breakfast. Just getting out of the car you could sense the heightened energy.
We took a window seat and were as much interested in watching the people inside the restaurant as the landscape outside. They were definitely affected, or had these bemused smiles on their faces, like they were tapped into the Mother Lode and couldn’t get enough. This was also how you could tell the locals from the tourists. The waitress took her time, and while she seemed slow, her eyes were definitely reading more than our menu selections. At one point she started smiling from ear to ear, as if she saw us as one of them. Interesting.
While we were waiting for our food, I closed my eyes and could sense the energy permeating everything and coursing through my body. When I opened them, Emma was smiling.
“Get anything?” she asked.
“Yeah, this is definitely Energy Central. Can’t imagine what the vortexes are like?”
The waitress served our food and we ate in silence, just soaking up the vibe, as they say. I definitely needed to lie down and just let this energy move through me. When the waitress picked up our plates and gave us a bill, she tried to inquire about our stay, but we were evasive and she let it drop but not without an encouraging smile. We found an eastside hotel that appeared to have once been a resort for the large tourist business, but had been scaled down after the ozone collapse to economically accommodate businessmen passing through town. I tried to get two rooms for us, but Emma insisted on one with a queen-size bed and I just went along with her. The desk clerk gave us a “friend’s” discount as he called it, and I paid for two days in advance. There wasn’t much fight in me at this point, and no need to keep up appearances. When we got to the room, I just collapsed on the bed. Emma let me rest, changed into a one-piece black swimsuit and went out to the tinted-glass enclosed swimming pool.
I nodded off, if that’s what it was, and had another one of those instant dreams or astral projections, which is what Maria called the last one I had in her presence. This time instead of soaring through the air like a hawk, I was squirming through the desert sands like a giant lizard or iguana, luxuriating in the feel of the coarse sand granules against my dry skin. I woke up to Emma lying beside me in her wet bathing suit, which was soon discarded.
“Are you sure?” I asked rather lamely. She just nodded her head, stripping off my clothes and climbing on top of me. I didn’t need any further stimulation; she was voracious and the lovemaking was very passionate for both of us. Interestingly enough, I didn’t come in the usual way, but the energy just shifted at some point and moved up my spine and exploded in my head. And it seemed conscious, like Maria’s energy as it “played” with my neural processor and then radiated downward through my whole body. Emma was straddling me and seemed to be experiencing some of the same, but not as intensely.
“Did it move up your spine?” I asked. Her eyes were closed; she shook her head but I could tell it did spread out through her body, but maybe not nearly as pervasively or she didn’t feel as ecstatic. She collapsed on me and we fell asleep with her on top of me.
35.
We slept through the afternoon, woke up, took a dip in the pool, and then dressed and headed out for dinner. We found a restaurant at a higher elevation with a spectacular view of the surrounding desert, if not of the west side of town with a view of the sunset. Emma was feeling very roman
tic after our long-delayed hookup and wanted to sit next to me and hold hands. But, despite luxuriating in the warmth of our body contact, I stood up and moved across from her so we could talk. We were drinking ice teas, and ordered nachos as an appetizer—something Emma had never eaten. While we got adjusted to the new seating arrangement, Emma stared out at the desert.
“You’re right. The energy is certainly pervasive.”
“And you can feel it … adjusting your processor?”
Emma closed her eyes to get a better sense of what was happening inside her skull. “So, what was Klaus’ question you brought up on the trip from Phoenix? Does this energy integrate higher functionality?”
“Generally, or in isolated cases like ours,” I added.
Emma opened her eyes, and then placed her hand over her heart. “Well, I’m not getting great leaps of intuition, but I feel some repressed feelings getting freed up.”
“And it just wasn’t the great sex?” I kidded her.
“Seriously, a wave of feelings is rolling in, but my mind, or is it my neural processor, seems to be slowing down and going with the flow,” she said.
I nodded my head. “Interesting. Brenda—or can we call her Jean—felt the same but resisted it and it somehow short-circuited her NP.”
We both thought about this process as our waitress served us our dinner of enchiladas and fried chilies and side dishes of rice and beans, all smothered with the best salsa either of us had ever eaten. The energy definitely moved from our heads to our stomachs, and we just enjoyed the meal and kept the conversation light, or at least we did for a while. Then something occurred to Emma.
“This energy here. How does it stack up or correlate with Fria’s healing energy?”
“Like I said earlier, it feels similar, but I think I won’t be able to really nail the comparison until we visit one of the vortexes and really soak up the energy there.”
Emma looked at me questioningly. “So we’re thinking of first hitting Bell’s Rock, south of town and east of Cathedral Rock, and then heading over to the other?” she asked.
I nodded my head.
She pulled some printed-out information from her purse, with a map and colored photos of the area, and spread it on the table.
“Looks like a great place to get hijacked,” I said.
“Well, if the energy is conscious, it should keep us safe and secure as well,” she said.
I had never thought of it in that way, but she could be right: it was how Maria described this energy and how I experienced its interaction with my own neural processor—as being very conscious, as if options were reviewed and choices made. It made me wonder if this wasn’t the real singularity tech geeks talked about, in regard to super human computer intelligence, which had never happened.
“What are you thinking?” I finally asked.
“About my conscious remark?” Emma asked. I nodded. “I just wonder if it acts like a sentinel or one of those guardian spirits you read about in mythology.”
“That’s possible,” I said, not really wanting to discuss this concept in a restaurant setting. Guess I was self-conscious about its spiritual aspects.
The waitress brought us our check, and waited as if she expected us to inquire about the different vortexes and we did.
“Well, Cathedral Rock is supposed to strength one’s feminine side, but Bells Rock’s, my favorite, balances both male and female elements.”
We thanked her for her assessment, which reinforced our preference, but didn’t indicate as much because operational security—even if we were off the reservation as it were—was ingrained in us. Well, we left a little early, but the hostess recommended a spot where we could watch the sunset, and we drove to the lookout west of town and parked there with a number of other drivers. The gold and turquoise colors of the sunset were spectacular, and we stayed on as the twilight settled in and then the night and the starry heavens above us came out. You rarely got great starscape views back east, with all the cloud cover from the increased moisture in the air year round, but out west the dry air compensates and night skies were often crystal clear, and tonight’s vista was spectacular. The combination of the earth energies, our increased energy exchange and this wonderful early-evening spectacle was a little disorienting for me.
“Are you okay?” Emma finally asked.
I nodded my head in an absent way.
“Why don’t you let me drive back to the hotel?”
“No macho resistance on my part.” I slid out and walked around to the passenger’s side and let her scoot over into the driver’s seat.
“Besides, I want you to save your energy,” Emma said with a leer, as she started up the vehicle and we drove off. Freed from following the road, I was able to view the city and its Southwest adobe architecture, and as we drove back into town, I was also able to watch the traffic more closely. Maybe it was my heightened senses, but I noticed that someone seemed to be following us. I mentioned this to Emma; she checked it out and agreed, and so we stopped at a night spot for an after-dinner dessert, and just stood outside on the porch and watched this guy drive up and then turn his car around—once he saw that we had spotted him—and drive away.
“Curious local, or worse?” Emma asked.
“Well, we haven’t been in touch with Musgrave for a while and maybe he got concerned.”
“You think.”
“It may be time to check in with him, but I know he’ll ask about Maria’s reaction to Brenda’s meltdown and I’m not sure how to answer him without giving away too much,” I said.
“Let’s hang out here, but not talk about it until we’re back on the road.”
We went inside and were immediately seated—not much business tonight, or maybe generally. We asked for the dessert menu, which seemed to bum out the waiter, but he complied and we ordered a sugary treat called Canela Bunuelos with Anise Syrup, which seemed to be the Mexican version of small funnel cakes. I could only eat a few—much too sweet for me—but Emma gobbled up the rest and had to go to the restroom to wash the sugary mess off her fingers. Her diet had no doubt been more deprived than mine on her long holdout.
We didn’t linger, since this was just an evasive maneuver. Outside and on the drive back to the hotel, we didn’t spot our tail, but by now they had probably scoped out our hotel and knew where we were staying.
As we drove along, Emma said, “You know, it’s getting late back east if you’re going to call tonight.”
“Well, last time I drove off the reservation Musgrave called me at 5:00 in the morning, and I plan to wake him up as well, if not tonight.”
She smiled. “I guess you can’t say that Maria picked up on Brenda’s modified processor.”
“It does put a different spin on our operation, and not one I’m sure he wants to hear.”
“Yeah, but the truth cuts both ways.”
“Yes, and it could cut deeper than we want,” I said. “I think for now we need to be cautious about what we share with him, or he may just terminate the whole op.”
Emma didn’t like that prospect, for more personal—I would assume—than professional reasons.
“I think you need to first figure out what the future holds for you and your development, before you force the issue,” she said.
I nodded my head. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s too soon. Maybe after our … excursion tomorrow, I’ll have a better handle on that.”
“And we can certainly shake an agent’s tail.”
“But not satellite surveillance in this clear air,” I said.
“Well, we’ll fake our reaction too, until we’re out of sight.”
“Yeah, let’s wear floppy sunhats and dark glasses, just in case.”
Emma reached over and affectionately squeezed my arm.
“You know they’ll scope out our single-room occupancy at the hotel, after we’ve been instructed to keep it chaste,” I added.
Emma turned to me. “Fuck them.”
36.
We woke up early for our drive down to Bells Rock, wanting to climb it before the sun got too hot. We took Route 179 south for five miles. The elevated “rock” was soon visible with its serrated, red-hue rounded-tiered structure rising from the desert floor. When we arrived, there were only a few cars parked at the path head with its viewing station. We stepped out and were immediately hit by waves of energy. We walked over, stood under the overhang and just stared up at it. We had been told that you could climb it, but there were no set hiking paths. On the way we had stopped at a sports store and got floppy hats, UV sunscreen lotion, water bottle harnesses and gloves for gripping the sandstone—we were told our Southwest hiking boots were suitable. So, after a while, we asked ourselves whether we should climb the rock, which could be dangerous, or stay below and see if the energy was strong enough at its base to gauge its impact?
“So, what do you think, Alan?”
“Yeah, let’s climb as high as we can without breaking our necks.”
Emma was watching me. “Are you sure? You look blasted already from down here.”
I closed my eyes, and I didn’t feel, to use a retro term, “spaced out” like last night. I felt more grounded and solid, as if the energy didn’t move me out of my center but pushed me further into it. “No, I’m fine now, more grounded than ever,” I said.
We used our hands to climb up the lower, five-foot-tall outcroppings, walked twenty feet or so to next one, climbed it as well and continued upward. At some point, about halfway up, the climb became too dicey for Emma, so we stopped. By now I could really feel the swirling vortex energy. It seemed to come up from the earth through my feet and weave itself around my chakras, as Maria would say, and on up to the top of my head and out, as if spinning me like a child’s twirling top. As we looked out across the desert, I felt one with all of it and had never felt more integrated in my life. Emma had a more difficult adjustment, but she seemed to be enjoying it nevertheless, her hand constantly going to her heart and the feelings that arose there.
Finally, she spoke up, “So, what do you think? Is this similar, different from Maria’s healing energy, or what?”