A pigeon landed on Isabelle's instrument panel as if to say hello. She watched it fly off and land in front of the shopping window to her right. Isabelle's day of surprises was far from over. An arrangement of digital television sets filled the display. On the TV by the pigeon was an image of a puma. It was Tonati, just sitting there. It was as if he was looking at Isabelle, then he ran off and took a leap out of the frame. His image reappeared on the next set. The traffic light turned green and Tonati jumped from one TV to the next until he disappeared around the bend of the unusual-looking store. Isabelle followed the cat. When they reached the end of the window display, Tonati leapt off the last screen and reappeared in a monochrome image on a digital clock across the next intersection. Isabelle followed the image of her cat. So far, there hadn't been a single police car - she felt a little safer. The traffic-light turned green and Tonati leapt onto a digital billboard. This continued for many kilometers across town. Isabelle followed her puma's image as he traveled across Berlin on digital bus signs, thermometers, televisions, billboards and traffic signs. Isabelle had reached a slightly more rural part of Berlin on the southern outskirts. She was on a two-lane road, Tonati jumped off a digital temperature display on the side of a small pharmacy in the direction of their travel.
A snow-covered field laid to her left and trees had taken the place of buildings to her right. A family of deer was watching Isabelle as she rode by. The road lead up a hill. Like a large wooden pinwheel, an antique windmill towered at the peak of the incline. Isabelle heard the sound of police sirens approach. There was nowhere to go. She checked her mirror and saw flashing blue lights approaching at high speed.
Grill-mounted strobes and turret lights from the roof of a large vehicle were growing ever-brighter and bigger in her view. Isabelle had seen a set of lights like that in her mirror on the Autobahn.
Could it be that Isabelle’s pursuer had lured her into a trap on this remote road?
30 FACEMASK THEATER
Far away from the cold and the dark of Isabelle's evening in Berlin was a warm late morning in Los Angeles. Michael Leese was busy fueling the flu scare that drove Gene's train of oppression to the next station. Michael and a small field crew from Pin the Ponytail where shooting a stand-up in front of Hollywood's famous Chinese Theater. Behind him on the hand prints of movie stars, several dozen people with face masks were walking about with a general look of malaise. A sound-man was holding a furry boom-microphone over Michael's head. His field producer, a blonde woman in her early 20s also sporting a ponytail, stood next to the camera operator. The woman gave Michael a cue and he addressed the lens.
"The country is choking to death under the grip of the monkey flu. We pin the ponytail on the government for its inability to get everyone vaccinated against this vicious disease. Praise goes to Apophis for jumping in so quickly with a global supply of the vaccine."
The field producer shouted "cut!" Michael was pleased with his performance, as he usually was. He would lead his next show with this piece, public support for the mandatory vaccine was fairly high but it took a constant flood of scare tactics to keep the populous from thinking clearly about the situation. Michael jumped into his convertible sports car parked just behind camera.
"See you at the studio, sweetheart," he shouted and speed off, tires screeching.
The field producer picked up a bullhorn off the ground and announced, "Background, that's a wrap. We'll sign you out back at the studio."
A swarm of passenger vans with tinted windows rushed in and lined up curbside. The vans' sliding side doors flew open and all the people with face masks loaded in. After the cluster departed, the world renown boulevard returned to its regular crowd of tourists and would-be super heroes.
Gene knew that poisoning the planet would bring even more destruction and anger. The very solar wind that was bringing the aurorae to the polar regions had one more, profound effect. When the sun’s charged particles pass through the pocket below earth’s ionosphere, they create an electrical wave that blankets the earth. This field, named after the man who proved its presence, is known as the Schumann-Wave. The frequency of this resonance increases with its proximity to the Earth’s core. This electromagnetic field acts as a carrier-wave for human thought of the same wavelength. With its existence comes a profound effect on human consciousness. Thoughts are electromagnetic impulses of the brain that, much like a computer, receives, processes and sends information. When Gene dreams, his mind is directly linked to the higher consciousness that resides within the heavens.
When Fuji and Isabelle chant, their patterns of thought assume alpha-waves, a frequency of about 40 Hertz. This matches the Schumann resonance on the crust of the world. During this time, their minds are directly linked to nature and all that is in a meditative state on the surface of the world. Since both waves are the same length, an overlap will provide a harmonious amplification, like the ripples in Fuji’s pond. This allows Isabelle to ride the wave like a California surfer, while sharing the power of nature with her mind. As the radius of the globe diminishes towards its center, the frequency of the Schumann resonance increases and matches that of a brain which is in a state of concentration, fear or anger.
The thoughts of those, who have fallen from grace can’t even reach the surface of the earth. This was the reason Betty and her heavy son acted in self-destructive ways that defied intellect.
Gene knew the demographics of Michael’s viewership. These people failed to even see the beauty in flowers or fuzzy creatures. Angry people who hurt animals and humans, who deforest the planet and poison its waters are trapped in their darkness by their lower brain functions. The underworld of the ancients, was nothing more than a depiction of that. This same concept produced the image of Hell in Christian mythology. Once an individual had given in to the temptations of darkness, only a strong mind could return to the bliss of the world’s surface. When a mind enters the lower emotions of anger and aggression that govern the underworld, a truly dark individual will learn to draw strength from the collective darkness that resides within earth’s depths. A person whose mind wanders the underworld will muster great effort to create an environment on the surface that matches his or her state of mind.
Gene’s mind missed the feeling of delving into the heavens. The world’s collective anger had caught hold of his compassionate mind. Darkness followed Gene wherever he turned. He decided to enter the battle arena that fear and hatred had created for him and fight his shadow, a battle that defied intelligent thought. In his mind of anger, violence was the only solution. In the golden age, a resonance wave was created by the pyramids and crystal megaliths like Stonehenge to prevent humanity from slipping off its elevated life condition into the underworld. Without their protection humanity has fallen from grace.
Another clue left for after mankind advanced past the stage of the caveman was the existence of the bees. Man soon discovered that the flight of a honeybee defies the laws of physics. A blatant sign that a greater force must be at play and moreover this: The laws of physics exist only in a society with the limited thinking of the underworld. An enlightened society can transcend these limitations. Honeybees and the quantum generator were shining examples of this principle.
31 ISABELLE, RYAN AND A WINDMILL
The emergency lights were closing in behind Isabelle on the dark road in Berlin's outskirts. She stopped her bike. Two wheels in a car chase on slushy roads did not promise favorable odds. Isabelle preferred to face her foe on both feet. The ominous blue lights did, however, not slow down. Isabelle saw they belonged to a police anti-riot vehicle. The beam of her headlights revealed a green and white personnel transport with meshed wire and armored glass for windows. On the back of the police van was an LED panel that patrolmen would use to display follow me messages during traffic stops. Tonati's face lit up on the display as if he was looking at her. Isabelle put the transmission in gear and followed the van up the hill. As it passed over the crest, Tonati's image leapt to the left and
off the van's panel towards the snow-covered windmill. An elegantly-dressed gentleman was standing in the driveway, tapping on a digital pad. It was Ryan.
"Bring your bike in here," he shouted with a big grin across his face.
Peeking out from under his blue wool coat was a bow-tie and what looked like a very expensive tuxedo. Ryan was the first familiar face Isabelle had seen since she left Fuji and Tonati in the Arctic. She felt the stress of the hunt melt away just a little.
"Why are you in Berlin?" Isabelle parked the motorcycle between a mound of snow and an upper class sedan from Stuttgart in the windmill’s driveway.
"Because you are."
She turned around and gave Ryan a hug. "You're amazing for coming here. How'd you figure out where I was going? I barely knew."
Ryan tapped the screen of his pad a few times and showed it to Isabelle. "By following her."
Isabelle was looking at a picture of Tasha from her personnel file. She was dressed in black combat gear, her pockets and holsters brimming with mechanical and electronic weapons. The lapels and chest pockets of her uniform were heavily decorated with patches and medals. The deadly warrior stood before a dark- blue background on which Apophis' sun-symbol provided a luminous background.
Ryan continued. "Her name is Tasha Methusa. She commands an anti-terror commando for Gene Soskyh.”
"I must have really hit a nerve with them. I need to get to Gene."
Ryan pushed his glasses up his nose while the grin returned to his face. "I know." He opened the door to the windmill and walked into the main room of the antique structure followed by Isabelle. A rustic living area greeted them. The smell of hot apple-cider was in the air. Ryan asked Isabelle if she would like a cup of the aromatic juice. She thanked him and walked to the stove where she poured a glass for each of them. Isabelle handed Ryan his drink and then took a sip of hers. Ryan set his down. He lifted an evening gown off the back of the sofa and held it up by its hanger.
"You're cordially invited to attend the Apophis ball tonight as my guest."
Isabelle's face lit up. "Ryan, you're brilliant." She looked around and it occurred to her she was in someone else's living room. Ryan quickly dispelled her look of concern.
"Don't worry, I checked the phone records of the guy who lives here. He went to visit his sister in Fallingbostel."
Isabelle: "Don't you think he'd mind that we're in his place?"
Ryan: "If Gene wins, it won't be his place for long. Besides, I left him a note."
On the kitchen counter, a handwritten letter thanked the occupant for providing a safe haven to two troubled travelers. The sheet was weighed down with a gold coin on each corner. Ryan handed Isabelle several make-up items.
"I looked up which colors you usually buy."
"What else did you look up, Ryan?"
His left index finger nervously pushed up on the bridge of his glasses. "Just your dress...size," he said with an embarrassed smile. Isabelle returned his smile and gratefully accepted his gift of make-up and attire.
After what seemed like an eternity to Ryan, a completely transformed Isabelle reemerged from the windmill's bathroom. The shower had washed away the marks that a thousand kilometers of travel had left embedded in her hair and face. The warrior looked the lady she truly was. Where Isabelle’s one-piece suit of armor had hugged her athletic body's every nuance, was now an elegant light-blue evening gown flowing around her like a pristine river. The brilliant blue and green coloring of her eyes was repeated in subtle strokes of her make-up. Ryan had not seen Isabelle outside of the work environment. Despite his crush, he had never been aware of how beautiful she looked in formal attire.
"You ready?" Isabelle asked on her way to the door. Left speechless by her stunning beauty, Ryan held up an intricately knit, brilliant-white body length coat and helped Isabelle into it. She flanked Ryan and as they headed out the door she smilingly commented.
"You have a good eye for what's beautiful."
32 TASHA STORMS BERLIN
The moon was still almost full. The sky had cleared shortly after the Autobahn disaster drew in rescue crews from hundreds of kilometers away. The multi-lane highway was closed in both directions to carry the unstemmed flow of ambulances to and from the viaduct. Tasha's platoon had found their way across the valley, at its bottom the destroyed water bottling plant, above a sea of blood and metal.
An Apophis rescue helicopter had plucked an only slightly injured Tasha from the snow bank on the mountainside and reunited the Commander with her troops. A constant reminder of her defeat to Tasha and those around her, several stick-on bandages marked the hunter's head from her impact with the mountain. The complicated electronics and liquid-crystal display in Tasha's helmet had shattered and left her wounded where she should have been protected. Tasha occupied her usual spot in the surveillance room onboard the spy truck. The high-pitch sound of the engine’s turbocharger could be heard from hundreds of meters ahead as its multiple high-beam headlights and blue emergency lights cut through the night. Like a snowplow, the cone of flashing light pushed traffic to the right. Leading the convoy of her platoon, the wounded warrior stormed towards Berlin to deliver the lethal blow to her opponent.
"Ma'am, satellite search pinpointed her license plate."
A birds-eye view of the windmill and its driveway filled the main viewer. The license plate of Isabelle's motorcycle was highlighted yellow. Tasha's eyes wandered to the digital map: Less than 30 kilometers between her and the windmill. Her unusual convoy had reached Berlin's outskirts.
Like Don Quixote and her 24 Sancho Pansas, Tasha stormed towards the windmill, to defend what was dear to her against the ominous giant - Isabelle. Her blood-lust and ultimately her own fear were what brought Tasha to cast aside any consideration for others and see only darkness in Isabelle's actions. There she was on the satellite view: Isabelle, followed by Ryan walking out of the windmill's front door. "So she did have help after all." Tasha thought what a pity it was that she had to destroy Isabelle. While she watched Isabelle lead Ryan to his car, a sliver of empathy entered Tasha's mind. She almost admired how clever Isabelle had been in evading her. Tasha thought under different circumstances, she might have found a lot in common with her opponent.
Ryan and Isabelle approached the driver's side door together. He moved between Isabelle and the car. When Ryan reached for the handle, she realized, the door wasn't opening for her. With a disappointed look, Isabelle walked around to the passenger side.
"I'm sorry," said Ryan.
He ran around the other end of the car and, drawing from his knowledge of chivalry, opened that door for his distressed damsel. Isabelle just smiled and sat down. Soon, the two of them were on a short journey to Schloss Sanssouci's main entrance, which laid only a short drive away.
Ryan responded to Isabelle's obvious disdain of the passenger side. "We're trying to blend in, a lady is driven."
"And who made up that rule?"
"I don't know, some guy, I guess."
The car approached the road to the palace. A group of protesters toting signs that accused Apophis of killing people with the flu vaccine had been blocking the way. Police in riot gear were brutally clubbing the protesters to the ground and loading the moaning bodies into several transports. Isabelle recognized the vehicle that had zoomed past her at the windmill. One of the policemen saw Ryan's expensive car and gave an order over his radio. The nature of his call became apparent when the water canon parked curbside powered up and its mixture of water and mace blasted a passageway through the group. The policeman saluted the car as Isabelle and Ryan passed through. The ornament on the hood of Ryan's dark upper class car seemed like a crosshairs to him. The two took their place in a long line of cars, all of the same brand. The convoy followed a long cobblestone driveway. Ancient oak trees lined both sides of the road like wooden guardians. Isabelle and Ryan had reached the end of the line. Two sentries, dressed like royal servants from the 1700s approached the car from either side. Ryan depres
sed a button and his window rolled down. The sentry held a small electronic device that looked like a computer phone up the car. Ryan placed his index finger on the screen, his name and likeness appeared.
"Thank you, Mr. Kensington."
The sentry opened Ryan's door while his colleague let Isabelle out of her side of the car. Ryan came around and offered his arm to Isabelle, she graciously hooked through. Flanked by royal guards, the beautiful couple walked towards the palace entrance.
A moment too late, Tasha and her army of darkness rolled into the area. She angrily watched Ryan and Isabelle slip from her grip.
"Surround the palace. We'll strike as soon as they leave."
Most of the platoon's cars swarmed out in a circle around the complex. Troopers not driving a vehicle jumped out and mixed in with the population in various disguises. A Trooper dressed as an organ grinder set up on the sidewalk. Another was offering cigarettes and mini-bottles of liquor for sale. Others did what they could to blend in, pretending to be joggers and protesters. One Trooper disguised as a homeless man set up a telescoping cardboard-shelter on the green across from the protest.
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