by Yasmin Esack
“I’ve taken much of your time, Professor. Thank you for everything. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure and please, keep in touch with me.”
Chapter 30
He took little notice of the New England state and its colonial settings as he hurried across the campus with his hands in his pockets.
He passed the Widener Library and hopped a taxi to Logan International Airport. Glancing at his watch, he realized he could be back at work in a couple of hours. But, work didn’t preoccupy him at all. The words of the ancient text did.
The seeker of truth will be astonished. When he finds the truth, he will find rest. Everything lives in and with each other. When you come to recognize yourself, you must first recognize what is in your sight, then, what is hidden will be known. There’s a gap between the body and the soul. Matter gave birth to a passion that has no equal. Where the ‘mind’ is there lies the treasure...it is…it is...Where the mind is there lies the treasure, it is…it is…
“The universal mind of matter!” he shouted with unmatched exuberance.
The words infused his spirit like nectar from the gods. He was on a mental roll. His body floated on a cloud. The truth was all he ever wanted and now, he felt redeemed. His eyes watered as he recalled the years he’d spent hoping to prove the universe was in Man.
The gateway to the universal mind was truly the mindless state. Matter was moving in a dimension that was as alive as the human mind was. He was glad his searching was paying off and that he would soon find the missing pages of the Gospel of Mary Magdalene and get the whole truth.
“My God!” he exclaimed now. “Our thoughts can be processed, our desires fulfilled.”
The Indian driver looked at him through his mirror. “Hey man, you ok?”
“I’m just great.”
The man gave him a wary look but Hart was surely accustomed to that. He shuffled his booted feet trying to fit his long frame in the back seat of the Japanese made car. His Italian designer jacket got stuck in the car’s door in his haste but he paid it no mind. Enjoying a natural high, he opened the gospel text Leidman had loaned him and checked it through again. Leidman was right. The pages of chapters one to six were missing, as well as, the pages of chapters eleven to fourteen.
An hour later, he stormed out the cab. He hurried to a Southwest Airlines counter and purchased a ticket to J.F.K. Airport. Hart then headed to a food outlet where he ordered a ham and egg sandwich and a cup of coffee. He had thirty-five minutes before his flight left. He sat down savouring sips of the strong brew. The food soon took away his hunger and he began to relax some.
“We aren’t alone,” he said. “We aren’t at all.”
As he ate, his mind drifted to all the things that defined Man, to his very essence. What a mistake it was to be ensconced in ego for below the surface lay Man’s true self. Man’s outward image, status, and wealth could never equate all creation. The wise have long known that humans could be all they wanted to be. Yet, they seem always to choose a path fuelled by blind certainty even when higher intelligence kept calling. Hart found the realm in silence. It was a connection to the supernatural and it dizzied him with elation.
He pursed his lips thinking of the pages again. “Those ten pages must have said much. They must have revealed even more astonishing secret of our life. I must find them.”
The ring from his cell phone brought him back to the reality of work. With grease on his hands, he lifted it and read the text message.
Where are you? Call me.
It came from UN Specialist, Ron Riley. He was still waiting on Hart’s analysis of ozone levels and weather changes. Hart sighed. He hadn’t even started it. Placing the phone aside, Hart thought again of Olsen’s date. He wanted to mention it to Riley but Riley’s head was cast in concrete with fixations of himself and his world. He wouldn’t consider the date nor would he accept the Inca vision. A flight announcement soon ended his thinking. He drained his coffee and hurried to the exit terminal.
Back in New York, he dialled Olsen’s number as he hurried along Greenwich Street.
“Hey?”
“Where are you?” Olsen enquired.
“I just got in from Cambridge. I had a session with Professor Carlon Leidman. We had a close look at the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I believe I found the ancient text after all but a lot of pages are missing. Nonetheless, it’s quite a revelation.”
“Did it mention of a realm in us?”
“It sure did. It’s in a place where incomprehensible silence exists.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The gospel describes a gap, the mindless state. It’s a portal to a whole new intelligence, bearing the soul and the universal mind in a realm of light.”
“That can beam waves to us.” Olsen was genuinely delighted.
“I need an opinion, Olsen. So, listen carefully.”
“Go on.”
“It’s clearly stated in the gospel that matter gave birth to a passion that has no equal.”
“That statement supports a realm for sure.”
“And, a question was raised by Mary Magdalene.”
“What question?”
“Will matter then be utterly destroyed?”
“Why would she have said that, Tom? Did she get an answer?”
“She did. All nature, all forms, all creatures exist in and with each other, and will be resolved again into their proper roots.”
“You’re kidding? That’s dimensional stuff. They were discussing that two thousand years ago?”
“Magdalene asked that question because she may have wondered about matter being destroyed by a transformation to a realm.”
“Yes, of course. She would not have understood it. I imagine not many would have.”
“Probably no one. Then, there’s the matter of Schmidt’s translation of the text.”
“What did Bentley say about it, Tom?”
“The Gospel was written in Sahidic Coptic and he believes Schmidt was more than capable. In fact, Schmidt completed his work in 1912 and then, sent it to a press, where, unfortunately, it was damaged. Then World War 1 came. Schmidt died in 1938.”
“Did notes survive? Did he leave clues concerning the missing pages?”
“No, but those pages must have gone somewhere.”
“If matter was discussed two thousand years ago, then those missing pages say a hell of a lot.”
“About who we are and where we are going.”
“You must find them.”
“I must.”
Before Hart could switch his phone off, a buzz in his ear sounded.
Chapter 31
“Hi Tom.”
“Hello again.”
“Well, I see you found the connection to the Universal Mind. Good job. But, I have to tell you it’s not so accessible.”
“What do you mean?” Hart asked anxiously.
“Well, you’re right to think it can be found in silence. I am glad you know that.”
“Why can’t we connect? What’s the problem now?”
“One has to rid oneself of hate, anger, and negative emotions if it’s to grant one a wish. Simple.”
“I see.”
“A person is on a journey. Humans need to take that journey seriously, otherwise, they would not move on. I wish you luck in finding those missing pages.”
“So, what do the pages say? I can’t believe Magdalene was discussing dimensions and matter. What this? Two thousand years ago? We’ve been struggling for years to understand matter. All we know so far is that there’s a force that gives objects shape and size so we can perceive them. The Universal Mind really made matter dynamic.”
“Exotic is the word, Tom.”
“Exotic? That kind of matter breaks all known laws of Physics. You’re saying there are other worlds?”
“Exactly. You cannot know what you can’t, though I see you all trying.”
“So, how did Inti and all those guys get here?”
/> “You already know that, Tom. They travelled through space-time portals and into your realm, like I did.”
“So, where does our portal take us? Where does our soul go?”
“You’re really anxious to know what’s in those pages, aren’t you.”
“I am. Do these pages discuss heaven?”
“Heaven you say?”
“Yes.”
“I can tell you something about heaven.”
“Please do.”
“Heaven is permanent.”
“Matter is permanent in heaven, isn’t it? There’s no entropy there, is there?”
“Entropy? That’s a big word, Tom”
“You know, the way everything gets worn down and weary in our universe.”
“No, there isn’t any of that.”
“We don’t die?”
“No. I hear a lot of talk from you all about roads paved in gold and rivers of honey.”
“Is that true? I like it here. I don’t need roads paved with gold. So, what’s the beat?”
“Having what you love in an ageless, timeless dimension. You won’t be challenged again, not by anything.”
“Oh man, that sounds really good!”
“Matter is supernatural in heaven. The Great Mind sent samples a long time ago.”
“Samples? Where?”
“You should check it out. The Great Mind made sure you all were told everything and given glimpses of everything. Seems, it has to start all over again. Bye, Tom.”
“Hey, where are the pages? Hey wait!”
The voice vanished and Hart shut his phone off.
Chapter 32
Back in his office at the NSA, it was quiet save for the hum of the supercomputer, Cray TE5. With its two thousand processors, the Cray tracked the weather globally, gathering information from across the world.
He looked at the hurricane data for the East Pacific. What he saw was nothing like anything he had ever seen before. A Category 5 hurricane was a baby compared to the beast that spun around on the screen.
A rap on his window startled him. Through the glass, he saw Riley staring back at him. Riley pointed to the NSA’s conference room.
Hart slipped through an adjoining door that led to the room, swearing at the annoying sounds of the Face Analyst Machine, the security system that kept strangers out.
“Let's go through this report, please.” Riley placed a document on a table. “This is a compilation of the research done this past three years on weather patterns.”
“I’m not so certain about this, Ron,” Hart said flicking through pages of data.
“Not certain of what?” Riley shouted rudely.
“I’ve looked through this a dozen times. I didn’t see any significance in it. I didn’t see any changes in glacial melt down, for example.”
“Look at it again,” Riley insisted.
Hart passed his hands through his hair and looked at the data again. “Are you sure your Plan B is working?” Plan B was a series of reflecting mirrors Riley had set up across the globe.
“Yes, I am.”
But, Plan B had changed nothing. The environmental crisis had worsened. He stared as Riley slumped in a chair, frustrated. Unbearable strain tore into his dark features. A man to whom diplomacy in all things came easy, he fretted feeling the full weight of his mission and the upcoming UN meeting on Climate Change that he was hosting in a week’s time. He needed Hart’s stamp of approval. Riley twiddled his fingers as desperation seeped in. His desperation bordered on fear.
“Look, Ron,” Hart said hoping to ease the tension. “I’m quite sure these calculations don’t reflect any real changes in the environment.”
“I’m sure they do.” Riley shot up.
“The data is not sufficient. Besides, I’ve maintained and still do, that the problem that needs confronting is the ever increasing occurrence of tremors.”
“Look, Hart, you can present your misgivings about this report if you wish at next Friday’s conference but, I’m launching it.” Riley began walking away.
“Wait!”
“Yeah, Hart.”
“Listen to me. We’ve reduced carbon emissions by fifty percent. We’ve been using electric cars for the past twenty years, not to mention Plan B.”
“What about it?”
“We have to deal with this matter differently!”
“Maybe you’re right, maybe we need to rethink this whole thing but, at the moment, we don’t have any other direction to follow.”
“We can solve the problem. We just need time.”
Riley grew silent with Hart’s words. Hart had a brand of self-assurance and compassion that was strange to him. He blinked his eyes trying to figure out what it was about Hart he couldn’t put a finger on. A loner, Hart was getting a rep because of his preoccupation with strange phenomena. He was on a mission. Nothing else mattered it seemed.
“You’re referring to a date for a new age, aren’t you?” Riley said finally. “Marin told me about it but I’m not sure I could accept it. That’d be difficult for me.”
“Ok, I understand.”
Deep down, Hart didn’t. He turned and headed to his office as Riley left. The sound of his videophone took away his frustration as he looked at the face of the man on the screen. It was a call he was waiting on.
“Peter, how are you?” he inquired.
Peter Langley headed NASA’s data security systems. The systems had the best coding and decoding platforms.
“Quipu is a word that means ‘file.’ I got that from the Quechan form of Microsoft XP.”
Hart ignored all that. He was concerned with the re-check of Olsen’s data.
“What’d you come up with?”
“The data has a baseline of ten. Tough going, but I came up with two prime numbers.”
“Two numbers? Is one of them nineteen?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Olsen told me. Did you find a third number?”
“Nothing yet but I’m still searching. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find it.”
“Thanks, Peter.”
He hung up and sat thinking less and less of Riley’s problems and Olsen’s date and more of his own mission. He would not rest until he got the whole truth of life and that lay in ten missing pages of a gospel. As always, Hart voiced his thoughts.
“All life is in flux. Our stars burn out just as we do. We live in uncertainty and chaos. Even the best of minds suffer. Was there really a better state for Mankind?”
He was sure there was. The voice told him so, but, he had read of it. According to the Secret Book of John, there was life without worry, life that was imperishable on a planet that was perfect. But, the imperfect world he lived in had to change. The mindless state was salvation and no one was alone. He recalled again that people had seen flashes of light there. He did too in his moments of meditation. It was as if something was scanning the mind.
The fact that light filtered into minds through a state of mindlessness wasn’t new. Illuminationism, a doctrine of Greek and Persian philosophy emphasized illumination in thought.
Augustine, the philosopher, noted humans needed to be illuminated by light. Buddhists spoke of a deep light seen by those who meditated and scripture tells of an Epinoia or a reflection of a supreme light that can trigger the mind’s ability to create.
“Alas,” he conceded, “there probably weren’t too many perfect minds in the cosmos anymore.”
He stretched his arms and picked up a note from his desk staring at five words.
Zama zama ōzza rachama ōzai
His curiosity made him pace the floor searching for a meaning. He had copied the odd line from an ancient text, the Pistis Sophia. It baffled him to the core. Somehow, he felt the line was connected to Magdalene’s vision mentioned in the gospel. He didn’t get further with the strange words. He jumped, startled by the body he ran into.
“You must be more careful, Dr. Hart,” Helen Dupon, cautioned.
“Sorry, Dr. Dupon, I didn’t see you.”
“I came to remind you of the emergency meeting later. Hope to see you there.”
“Su...”
Hart didn’t finish his word. The NSA shook from a quake that struck with some force. Car alarms sounded as panicking feet rushed out the building.
Chapter 33
“Answer the damn phone, Marin!” Ron Riley vented his frustration at his UN office in Manhattan. Marin’s phone was stuck on busy tone. Giving up, he started his trek to a café two floors up. He didn’t get far as a second tremor came. This time, a rumble rose from the bottom to the top floor of the building. Screams of panic poured out from every space. No one moved. There was nowhere to go. Then, as if the heavens decided to show mercy, the tremor stopped completely.
“Ron!” someone screamed out.
He turned and looked at the petite woman who was scampering to him, a look of horror on her face.
“Ron!” she cried out again.
“Agatha, please calm down,” he said, placing his arm around her body. “Get a grip on yourself.”
Amid the blaring sirens of the earthquake warning system, he looked at her frightened face and thought of how many were derailed as they were, belittled by the forces of nature, left to pick up the pieces of wrath and hell. Records spoke volumes. Southeastern Iran, 2003, thirty one thousand dead, Indonesia, two hundred thousand, Haiti-uncountable. The figures spun around in his head but the greatest one had yet to occur: California.
“Is this ever going to stop?” she wailed holding on to his shirt.
“It’s just a tremor,” Riley consoled, looking at her face that had gone pale. He cursed beneath his breath. Seismic sensors for much of New York City were yet to be installed and he wondered what Mayor Ferelli was doing about it.
“This is happening almost every day. I’ve seen the reports and things don’t look good. Do something!” Agatha wailed again.
“We’re working on it. Trust me.”
What Riley needed was a miracle and at the moment there was none. He thrust his hands in his pockets and began heading out the door.