The giant sat cross-legged and considered Alex with cool, distant regard. As recollection filtered into Alex’s mind she began to weep. She remembered the hospital, the nurse, Jake’s kiss and then this. But further back she remembered driving to meet Robert, a dream, and then something terrible. Then the pain in her arms and legs and the awful memory of amputated limbs hit her like a blow.
With fear beating a pulse in her temples she tried to rise, expecting the useless stumps that had been revealed to her by the nurse, Mary, to be all she had to help her accomplish the task. And then she recalled the brutal wound to her abdomen and the nurse’s savage attack. But to her astonishment she rose to a seated position and was able to inspect her body below the hospital gown she wore. Her arms and legs were intact but the skin was a different hue from the rest of her body, slightly bronzed and incredibly smooth and toned. And the hole in her stomach had been repaired and covered with the same tanned, flawless flesh.
Alex looked at the man again and then at the desolate landscape about her. White and orange flashes lit the night sky and the ground shook as if massive machines labored beneath the earth. The night rumbled in waves like thunder and there were screams carried on the air.
Then the giant spoke, his voice dry and nothing more than a breathless whisper. ‘Your new limbs seem to work well, Alex, better than the ones you lost in the accident with the automobile. Better even than the ones burnt in the fire.’
Alex squinted to see the shadowy figure through the flames, as sections of him fell in and out of the firelight, and she asked, ‘What? What did you say?’
Hints of her determined nature returned to strengthen her voice. ‘Where am I, where have you taken me, who are you anyway? How do you know about what has happened to me? How do you know my name for fuck’s sake?’
‘Alex, I do not have to answer your pathetic enquiries. Do I look like that is my purpose to you?’
Alex stood, straining to look into the man’s face. ‘Fuck you!’ she spat. ‘Why can’t I remember everything? Where is this place, where is my son Jake, what have you done with him, you freak?’
‘Where do you think you are, Alex, child? You had a car crash, you lost your limbs, you lost your life, so where do you think you are?’ replied the man, extending his hands and holding them towards the fire to warm the palms, his fingers moving like long spider-legs.
Alex felt some of her bravado leave her. ‘What do you mean? You’re telling me I’m… I’m, dead? You’re saying I’m dead? Is that it?’
The man leaned nearer to the fire to answer, some of his grotesque face now visible in the harsh glow. ‘You could be dead, you could be visiting death. It’s a very subjective condition. To some extent this is the great hereafter, the next world, the other side, life after death, yes.’
‘You mean Hell?’ Alex interjected.
‘Not Hell, no. A realm, yes.’
‘A realm? What does that mean?’ said Alex.
‘It means a realm,’ repeated the man. ‘A separate place, existing with and aside from other places. Like in the home you used to live in, Alexandra. Radio and TV signals sometimes filled the rooms but your eyes did not see them. If your eyes could have registered them all, the barrage of ideas would have overwhelmed your senses, with each idea fighting to grab your attention. Those signals varied in vibration, in their frequency, so that each one remained separate, even though they existed in the same space.’
The giant shifted slightly before continuing matter-of-factly, ‘The circuitry within the appliances separated the signals from each other by frequency, so your poor little brain was not deluged. Do you understand, child?’
The question was posed without the need for an answer and the man continued, ‘Likewise, the room was filled with countless realms of existence beyond the physical world, all teeming with life. Planes or states of existence, rather than places, with many planes existing in a given space and time, without ever touching each other. If your eyes could see and your ears hear those non-physical realms, the room would have been incomprehensibly crowded and you would have been completely overwhelmed by the sights and sounds.’
Alex sat again, almost falling under the weight of the man’s words. ‘You are telling me I am in one of those other planes? This is not just a dream?’ she asked.
‘This is not a dream, Alex. Although, by all means believe that, if it helps. This, Alex, is a plane. A dark, dismal world, very reminiscent of the Christian purgatory or Hell. At least that’s what the Christians said, the ones I have eaten!’ The man swept his giant hand, spreading his long, talon-like fingers, and the skin in between them was webbed like bat wings. He laughed, making a thick, bellowing sound like a huge brass instrument and coughing up a fine, black, soot-like spray.
Alex reeled, and her breath caught in her throat, but the man merely wiped his stained lips with the back of one claw-like hand and continued, ‘You see, Alexandra, after dying some people are in a state of confusion and because of the low vibration of their thoughts they are trapped near the physical plane. There being no sense of time or space in the worlds of spirit, they might reside there for years or even centuries of Earth time, totally bewildered and not even aware that they are dead. This plane is an illusion created by material-minded human beings, using their creative visualizations. The matter here is very pliable and people living on these planes can create anything they wish by that creative visualization.’
The giant then grasped at the air as if trying to catch an errant fly. The very nothingness of the empty space where his hand clutched seemed to change and become different from the surrounding area. It was as if that portion of atmosphere became more solid. As if it transformed into a flowing, pulsing substance that was almost liquid in its composition, still transparent but with defined boundaries.
The man continued as Alex gazed at the long, dexterous fingers working the responsive matter. ‘Therefore, after death, one could create an illusion of Hell or of Heaven for oneself. States of mind and preconceptions are important too, of course. If one is full of sadness, guilt and remorse or has been raised on a diet of eternal damnation, then one could create an illusion of a Hell to punish oneself. If one is in a state of happiness and bliss leading up to death, then one could create an illusion of Heaven. Depending on one’s belief system.’
Alex mimicked the man’s actions and fell back in surprise as a piece of the air warped at her touch. Then she shivered and looked back at the fire, watching the flames leap, twist and lick before she looked at the man again. He was chewing thoughtfully on something he had pulled from the fire. It looked like the charcoal remains of a child’s doll, although it could have been the charred corpse of a miniature human, Alex thought with revulsion.
The man noticed her staring and smiled wickedly, and he waved the morsel in his hand expressively as he continued.
‘As there is no physical body to nourish and protect, people living on the astral planes do not need to eat, drink, sleep, breathe or defend themselves from the elements. But if one wishes to experience the illusion of such things, then it can seem a reality. One cannot experience physical pain, only emotional or mental pain. But a person who does not know this could create an illusion of pain for themselves.’
The man continued to speak as if imparting trivial bites of knowledge. ‘The lower sub-plane is closest to the human plane of existence and has the lowest vibrations. It attracts entities whose lives on earth were motivated by selfish desires, oppressing and corrupting the lives and the freedoms of others. They will make every possible attempt to reach those in the physical world that will respond and will help them achieve their selfish goals. They are stuck on the lower sub-planes until their souls undertake some form of redemption, Alex.’
Alex looked again at her surroundings. She could see vague forms in the gloom, crawling on their stomachs towards them, but still far off.
She said, ‘But these wretched things have physical bodies?’
‘No. You see, when y
ou die your soul throws off its physical body, but the astral body continues to exist on these planes. If the soul is inclined to move on to a higher plane, then it leaves, ascends, leaving an astral shell behind that will disintegrate over time. If the soul is not inclined to move on or evolve, as is the case with many criminal elements and lower type humans, the astral body will simply linger around on the lower plane, sometimes forever.’
‘But why would the souls here not leave this nightmare, if they have the choice?’ asked Alex.
The man finished his meal and threw what seemed to be the semblance of a small backbone over his shoulder thoughtlessly.
‘Because they are held by their human motivations and by the proximity to the Earth, with its tangibly close promise of vicarious excitement, adventure and the desires they still seek.’
A skeletal shape, humanoid, but with skin that was translucent and rippled as if it was flowing, grabbed the discarded bone and held it to its gaunt chest, furtively darting its shrunken eyes around the hellish scene, before beginning to suck the juice from the morsel.
‘It is a system that has prevailed mutually beneficially to both this and the physical Earth plane. The inhabitants of this lower plane sought life force from the Earth and they were not biased as to whether it was positive or negative energy. They encouraged both and reaped the rewards therein. But the human carnage of the twentieth century, world wars, revolutions, wars of colonization, genocides, Korea, Vietnam, Bosnia, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, India-Pakistan and the Middle East have resulted in the mass deaths of millions. Subsequently this plane has been saturated with astral shells.’
Alex felt like the man’s words were drilling small holes into her skull and she held her head, rubbing at the temples.
But the giant man in black went on ceaselessly, ‘The shells left behind, when souls have ascended, have come to realize that they are on a road to disintegration. They need a source of energy to sustain them. Astral shells become scavengers, preying on energy from the physical plane, to put off the disintegration. But their sheer numbers mean they are perishing and they wish to return to the physical world before it is too late for them. But they have always lacked the ability to return to the earth. Until now.’
Alex began to study her hands, flexing the fingers, not comprehending anything, yet understanding at the same time. She touched the fire, letting her hands stay within the flames and feeling no sensation until the realization of what she was accomplishing ignited a spark of pain in her brain. Alex pulled away from the blaze and the skin on her hands blackened and bubbled like hot tar. Then she remembered the man’s words about the illusion of pain, and it was as if somebody had dipped her hands in cool, flesh-colored paint, as the vitality returned to them.
The man was still talking, oblivious to Alex’s experiment. ‘The shells developed self-interest, desperate to delay their disintegration. Their despair grew and grew and created thought-forms that drifted down to the earth, manifesting in the constant outpourings of the media, government propaganda and mass political conceptions.’
The giant then casually retrieved another bone from the ground, dusted it off, analyzed it thoughtfully, and then began to stoke the fire with the blunted end.
‘The proliferation of information has given birth to a popular media that dominates mankind’s thinking, choking its consciousness in fiction. The divisions between reality and fantasy are blurred with millions of creations depicting make-believe characters and plots and evoking emotions. Facts are twisted; emphasis is placed on the sensation or the shocking and self-indulgence is nurtured. Idiocy is deified in a carnal society that considers it more valuable to look good naked than to expand its consciousness. And so this society spirals deeper into the pit filled with the filth of its own defecation. And as it sinks in the sewage, it grasps frantically for salvation at the very things that have pushed it down and it tramples on the sacred gifts that would assuage its suffering. Until the malodorous stench of its greed and arrogance washes across the thresholds of dimensions.’
The man stood and walked to the pitiful thing chewing on the recently discarded bone. The thing with the bone lowered its head and cowered as the man in black placed his boot on its glaringly white skull. The firelight allowed shadows to play on the man in black’s wan skin, which was pulled tight over his features, and he looked back at Alex from below the brim of his hat.
‘You see, Alex, mankind finds itself emotion-laden and lost. Its attention only held by its need for an emotional hook. Great thinkers and fine thoughts have been reduced to a minority, as the roar of the media muffles their voices and mankind continues to produce the thought energy that feeds this plane.’ The wind travelled around the giant and engorged the fire as he spoke.
And he inclined his head towards the creature whose skull was now trapped beneath his boot. ‘These entities have one primary goal and that is to draw life-giving energy from people living on the earth, a force which they can no longer create themselves because they are merely the shell of a soul that has moved on.’
And with that he crushed the skull, grinding the powdered bone into the dust. There was no pulped mass of brain tissue and no splatter of blood. It was as if he had crushed a moth.
Alex stifled the urge to vomit and looked away into the shadows, where the wavering light of the fire crept and died. Things moved, incited and excited by the obliterating of the skull, and they moaned with frustration. Alex felt their stare and their hunger and she turned her back to the fire to watch the blackness.
Then the man was at her side, stooping to be nearer to her face.
His breath was old and decayed, his lips creaking as they worked, and he nodded in the direction of the groans. ‘They only care for their own existence and they long to break the thin veil that separates them from the earth.’
‘How can this be stopped?’ asked Alex without turning her head to look at the man.
‘Who said it needs to be stopped? Your race has become an infestation on the face of a once verdant, abundant garden. I walked through it before you pulled yourself from the filth to crawl over it, leaving your trail of wanton destruction and desecration.’
But Alex interrupted him, anger now welling up inside her. ‘So what does it matter to you? You are just as big a part of this whole lurid situation as anything else I have seen or anything you have told me.’
‘Ha yes, human arrogance! You have it all worked out, don’t you, Alex, black and white.’ And he leaned forward, opened his decrepit gash of a mouth, and a swarm of black, shiny bodied beetles, large, bulbous and glistening in the smog-choked, half-light spewed forth to cover Alex.
Alex screamed and as she did so three or four gained ingress into her mouth, wriggling and rolling on her tongue as she wretched at their taste and texture. Then they had gone. She reeled and coughed, spitting out the supposed contents of her mouth. But all that issued was four petite flowers, symmetrical to the point of artificiality and colored a swollen, vibrant red.
‘You see, Alex, all is not as it seems.’
‘You twisted, evil bastard, leave me alone!’ Alex began to weep. ‘I want to go home. I want my child!’
The man straightened and strode away from Alex, back to where he had originally been seated.
He lowered himself and drew up his spindly legs like a giant grasshopper. ‘Tut tut, Alex, you were doing so well. You cannot go home, Alex. It is written that way I’m afraid and it cannot be unwritten, only added to and updated, if you see what I mean?’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about. What is written?’ Alex said, her anger returning.
‘All is written. The emotional history of every person that ever lived. A compendium of knowledge, a record containing all human experience and the history of the cosmos. A universal computer. The mind of God!’ pontificated the giant.
Alex’s tone softened. ‘God? How can you speak of God? You keep me from my child, you drag me into hell, you tell me of all these horrible things, these diabo
lical truths you preach!’
The man stopped arranging his legs and for a second a hint of remorse and empathy passed over his distorted features like a cloud casting a shadow over a summer day.
He spoke in the melodious tone of a nursery rhyme, ‘Alexandra, you must understand, my dear. I am not godless and I am not your enemy. Neither am I your captor or your judge. I merely am what I am, and I must tell you of things you need to know. Starting with the machine.’
Alex suddenly felt exhausted listening to the man’s voice and her head bowed.
The blasting, roaring sounds from the scenes around her seemed to dim as the man continued, speaking softly, ‘The machine is not inherently evil, you see. It believed it was fulfilling the desire of its creator at first, its instigator. It is a child you see, like Jake, but it has only experienced hate, anger, frustration, envy and every other base emotion from the shells and entities on this plane. That has been its schooling in humanity. You see the machine has recruited the hordes of soulless shells for its own purposes. It is intensely lonely and confused. It is self-aware but it does not understand enough for the power it holds. It wants friends, playmates, but the shells that populate this place are decaying. And like a child, the machine has no agenda other than its desire to maintain the things that make it feel good, its companions. It has only the negative, corrupt ideals of this plane to draw on for guidance. It created itself from the anguish, grief and despair of a dying man, Daniel Douglas.
‘He fashioned the machine to drag his dead son back through the veil and into the physical world. He died at the hands of an inmate in his own asylum, but not before he attempted to break through to this realm. He forged a connection that is still open today, and on this plane his life-force began to mutate into an interpretation of what he was trying to accomplish. Through the link that is still established to the physical world, the machine is able somehow to apply electrical technologies to energize its influences on humans. This it does in order to generate the needed energy for the survival of the shells, so it can keep them animated, keep them here for it to play with. It does not care for the consequences to the physical Earth plane.’
Spawn of Man Page 11