Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1)

by Chris Finkelstein

  When first re-inhabiting a planet, however, there was no infallible way to totally separate those who had regressed into negative relationships or behavior. A “re-integration” was necessary with different work and living groups, with as much separation as possible between the individuals caught in the regression. Re-integration was an answer that worked, but it was not perfect. There had been revenge-related physical attacks among some of the “separated” colonists on other planets. Jason was concerned that it could be much worse on this planet.

  With his attention drawn to his thoughts, Jason politely watched each following speaker. He applauded when appropriate, but did not hear much of what they were saying. The meeting went on for another hour, and then it was over.

  Afterwards, most of the people there just hanged around, talking shop, planning. They had been on route for one day. In two more hours, they would be going to the hyposleep units and slumber in them for the next three years. Jason wished they had the new Brashier B2010 sleep units. He had heard that one woke up very quickly from those. The units on this ship were the standard fare Ebson 50’s. They were very reliable, but the wake up period took a few days. I wonder if they could just let us sleep during the wake up phase? Jason thought this to himself, and then chuckled at the absurdity of the idea.

  There was really nothing left to do now, except think of any number of challenges on D’ot8 and the arising issues down the chains of possible events there.

  He decided to have a snack while still in the cafeteria. All food eaten since on board contained an additive that would be converting the eaten food into a slow acting paste. This would provide balance to the intravenous solution he would be using while in hyposleep.

  A cranberry muffin and skim milk smoothed with carrageenan seemed to be the right choice for now. He sat down at one of the long faux cherry grain laminate lunch tables with a few of the team leaders. Trained to confront disturbing situations by joining in reason, they engaged him.

  “Are you really convinced it will be as bad as you say with the newborns?” A redheaded gal, Brenda was asking, (she was head chef of the bakery, and her huge frame said that she was loving it there.) Brenda’s life-partner Amanda was with her, looking very concerned. Some nonchild producing colonists were “on-call” to receive children that would inevitably end up available for adoption. This would happen because of a parent’s disability, disease, death, or simply parents that decided that they were wrong about their goals. Whatever the reason, the system — the safety net, was there.

  “Don’t worry so much as prepare,” Jason responded. “You have been trained thoroughly for anything that comes your way. It just means more work. You must give the children much love, no matter what. You know that is the way to build well-developed souls. Love lasts. Anything true is always revealed in the end. You just need to remember to recharge. Go to home-base, meditate, let your soul visit your Source and be refreshed. Your minds will become very well developed at D’ot8. You will be swimming harder than you have ever swum before, but you can do it. You are perfect for this mission.”

  Marshal North came walking towards the table. He leaned forward across the table and said quietly, but within earshot of the others, “I am in charge of survival. Frightening these people with unproven theories, and creating uncertainty is something that threatens their moral. Low moral threatens survival. Keep your concerns to yourself when we arrive.” He then leaned in across the lunch table more closely — so close that his nose was just a few inches from Jason’s face.

  His tone was low, but gained intensity as he said, “I am disgusted that the Guild put you in such a position of authority. When we get to D’ot8, every mistake you make, every blunder you trip over will be recorded by my team. Then I am shipping you the hell out of here!” North’s voice continued to rise, and Jason started to back his face away from the spray from North’s mouth. “You just keep your muffin-hole shut about your bullshit, do you hear me?”

  He thinks I can fear. Jason thought to himself. I give no obedience to fear. “I care about them and want them to be prepared.” Jason countered, in a friendly way.

  “That’s an order!” yelled North.

  Jason sighed. “Well an order from the Survival Marshal is indeed an order, and protocol is protocol. I will abide by your request.”

  “It was not a request!” North was clearly frustrated by Jason’s lack of interest in his drama. “I would love to just slap you and wake your ass up,” North said under his breath.

  “I can hear you,” he sincerely said, moving his head gently forward for emphasis. “I'll be very careful of what I say, for your sake, and the sake of all the people on this ship.”

  North could see that Jason’s Guild training would automatically try to calm North by Jason’s “seeing” peace in North. North was not having any of that. He straightened himself up, preparing to leave. “This is a potentially critical problem, and as Survival Marshal I am responsible for those things I perceive as vitally important to our survival. Things that can be seen and heard and felt, these are what are essential!” he barked.

  North turned to his waiting deputy on the way out, and said quietly, “The invisible world of Dr. Jason Ata and the rest of the Guild’s old guard certainly are not essential.” He could say this privately to his deputy, but would not dare to say it aloud in front of them all.

  North left in a huff for his quarters. He and his squad would be among those sleeping normally for the next three years, not like ones in hyposleep. They would take turns at watch while the rest slept. They would also be the only ones coming back to earth after their usefulness was over at the new planet. That usually took a few years. They would go into hyposleep on the way back to Earth.

  He was relieved to see North leave, and decided to settle in early himself. Jason felt he handled the Survival Marshal rather well, considering. He had resisted North’s attempt to drag him down to the lower disharmonic thought realm.

  With three long hallways, two stairways, and one elevator, it took Jason almost ten minutes to get to his sleep unit. It had the same exterior as the rest of the sleep units in his section — orange plastic composite with yellow horizontal stripes wrapping around it. He looked at his watch. I’ve got thirty-five minutes before lights out. I think I’ll listen to some classical music for a bit.

  Jason scrolled through his MU, and decided to start with “Rock n' Roll Pain Train” by Kid Rock. He thought it queer, the way he often did, that this harsh music had become so popular in recent years. An elementary soul-explanation would be that it was simple yin-yang balancing taking place. Life had become so organically ordered and pleasant for most people that aggressive competitiveness was rare. One could fleetingly see it in the elderly, or in movies and such. The time-related desire to compete was smoothly re-directed through schooling into increased productivity on earth now.

  The mix of rage, love, and ego that Kid Rock put forth over one thousand years ago was the diametric opposite of life on earth now. He chuckled. Kid Rock would have considered Earth to be hell now. He thought about the history of this man. I know Kid Rock was a persona. The human behind the persona — that’s the question. He was a musical genius, which involves a solid connection with higher harmonics. On the other hand, he carried a great deal of the lower disharmonic realm into his music and his life. Typically, such an individual’s world would have become quickly trapped, and sink towards self-destruction, with an eventual early death. Jason thought about it some more.

  “A well-connected soul,” Jason muttered to himself, “When love and life bursts through extreme negativity, as opposed to being watered down, trickling through a stable culture, it is indeed a colorful thing to behold.” He sighed. He wondered where that soul was now.

  How far we have come, he mused. Yet we are still learning. He thought about that, and spontaneously said aloud, “Still, I think I’ve learned more about the touching the truth.”

  “Yes you have,” said the Guide. Jason could
hear him clearly now. As per Guild dogma, the Guide was in touch with both eternity and the sub-dimension of time. All members sought the Guide, but few could hear him clearly or consistently, much less be able to channel him.

  Jason had become an exceptional listener, but was spotty on the channeling. Letting go is hard to do, he often thought. He could connect well, unless he really wanted to hear something intensely. Then the connection would break. He knew that it was his own subconscious that broke the connection. The Guide was always ready when Jason was, if he bothered to think of him. The Guide had told Jason that he had a gift, but he had yet to appreciate it in this life. The Guide had never said anything condemning to Jason about himself, or anyone else, for that matter.

  Jason knew why the conventionally accepted yin-yang explanation of Kid Rock’s current popularity among classical music fans was incomplete. He had been beyond yin-yang too many times, to a state where there was no yin and no yang. Yin-yang was time-based: true enough in the sub-dimension of time, but there was more going on. Yin-yang was a good simple explanation for the conflicts and schizoid nature of life in this dimension, but that was all. It did not provide the ultimate answer. It was still two hands clapping, not one.

  His mind wandered to another class, many years ago, “We now know with mathematical certainty that the end of time will come. Time is a temporary phenomenon. The end of time does not mean you run out of time to do things, and then you are left with time and nothing you can do,” he remembered telling his class. “It does not mean that. It means that the entire dimension of time has been erased, along with everything that happened while our minds were focused and anchored in it. It no longer exists in any dimension, because there was always only the one dimension of eternity. All that is left is the truth, and it is very good. It tells of the dimension of eternity, the home of the Holy Author of our eternal souls, blesser of minds made holy again by choice. We hear the song of peace, love, and happiness. We join in intercourse and expansion, and that is the good news. The closer we come home to truth, the more we love her, and wings are lent from heaven itself to speed our return, that the prodigal child and father meet in truth at long last.”

  Jason recalled that classroom scene often. He smiled to himself because he remembered every word and still liked the way he had said it. Whenever Jason recalled that moment, he wondered if he channeled the last part. Since it was an area of frustration for him, when he would ask the Guide about it, he would find himself blocking the answer. He had given up asking.

  He shook his head. Three minutes left. Jason removed his earpieces, got comfortable in his sleep chamber, laid back, eyes open, and waited for the sleep chamber technician to initiate the hyposleep sequence. A wayoverdue crap would be waiting in three years. Kid Rock, he thought. He chuckled again.

  As he felt the cryogenic mix of sedative gases take effect, Jason fell into a dream. His dream began with his co-travelers in it. It was as if he was a ghost, floating through recently visited areas in the ship, and then he found himself floating through the walls of the ship, and out into space itself. It was so weird because he fell into a state of perpetual déjà vu.

  “Why do I remember this? This was so long ago — how do I know?” He found himself speaking aloud in the darkness of space. The stars were outstandingly bright, so that it was not so dark as usual. So strange.

  His dreaming led him into a planetary approach to D’ot8. “I can see a planet. That looks like D’ot8. Is that D’ot8? That’s D’ot8!” Jason said with surprise. His mind was racing. What a dream! Is my body here? It is. Then it’s not a vision, I think. Where am I going? He flew down into and through a city. I’m landing on D’ot8! No, I am still flying. What’s guiding me? Why do I feel like I’ve been here before? What is that short building, and why am I going into there? It seems familiar, too. There’s no one leading me, I think —

  Jason found himself floating down through a hospital, and into a plainly decorated room in which some D’otians were attending a birthing class. His journey came to rest at the location of a young couple listening to the teacher of the class. He found himself drawn to the mother’s abdomen, slightly bulging with the baby it held. He heard himself say, “I know this. How do I know this?” He looked at the mother’s finely scaled face. Her green eyes and her perfectly polished scales mesmerized him. She’s beautiful! Her face then began to fade, and Jason’s remaining dream slowly sank, through the twilight zone and then into the unseen realm of the cold long sleep ahead.