They had to find out more, and since they were down there by themselves with no one to tell them what to do or where to go, they journeyed further down the stairs until reaching the next level down. This level was indifferent to the others because it had a chamber in the middle with nothing but scaffolding all around. Another half-chamber was by its side. Once the door to it was opened, Lars found it was a mini silo of sugar—real sugar, not the saccharine wannabe that they were forced to drink in their mock Kool-aid and eat in their cereal in the cafeteria.
The rather open compartment room of the soul shooter chamber looked like the dentist chair room upstairs. A white, faux leather inversion table started out at a ten degree incline where the person could lean back against it and hydraulics would slowly lower the person until he or she was evenly horizontal. A flat walkway surrounded this six-feet wide by eight-feet tall room with the inversion table, some black straps, and an eyeball apparatus that stemmed down from a long aardvark snout-looking telescope tube that was centered in the middle. It was meant to be the soul shooting chamber, a place with a plaque on the outside of it that depicted its purpose, equipped with instructions.
The soul shooter chamber was devised to release the spirits of those who have done good at DSOH and basically earned their way back to heaven. It hadn’t been used yet, but that is probably due to the fact that the founder of DSOH, Chester Baumkegen, committed suicide before completing his mission.
After the finality of the person’s transference from human to soul, the body would be condensed to molecules, molecularization. The ray will be shot out of the belly button of the robot, and the spirit will then be cast back to heaven.
Whatever the purpose of this chamber, it looked similar to the death chamber at the Fallen Angel Prison/Nut Home Treach got to go through when his health class was taken on a field trip in their Scared Straight program. One of his local friends, who committed the heinous murder of his stepmother and brothers, was staying down the hall in death row waiting to be sent to this chamber. His name: C. William Rael. He, better known by Treach as Coyote, was actually the specimen to get sat down and then strapped down, where he got to say good-bye with his eyes through the glass peeping-window on the heavy door of the room after it was shut, and his death was simulated for the other students. It was odd how quickly oxygen, depicted by a wall monitor, was depleted from the room once the door was shut. Needless to say, it did scare Treach, but of course, he never showed it. He was still gang bangin’ with his home boyz, and bustin’ caps.
Treach and Lars left the room, encoding as much as their minds could take in hopes of storing the information for future use. They were making the best out of a bad situation. Having been cast down here—in the first place, for punishment—they were making lemonade out of life’s lemons that were given to them.
The next level down seemed to be the bottom floor because there was a double door that looked like an elevator opening. It had a metal cage at waist-level that slid in half sideways once the full inner doors opened. On this level, there was a distinct odor of burnt flesh, like someone had been recently incinerated. A look around in the far corner was another chamber; this one had a yellow door with red on the inside middle portion that had a handle to lift it in half vertically. Treach went over and raised it as the two halves parted away from each other. The smell got stronger. A mortician’s toe tag, which was caught between the doors, dropped on the solid metal floor at the base of the doorway. Lars picked it up to show it to Treach.
Written on the tag was the name Harlo Rule. That was the guy that Treach had the run-in with outside when he made the helicopter pilot blow himself up after being black-bagged. He didn’t like that guy at all; even he could tell something was off about that individual. He kept the semi-burned tag by twist-tying it to his wrist. He figured it would come in necessary as a key eventually and that he wasn’t supposed to have found it. Nevertheless, Lars shut the door as the smell was stifled.
Lars and Treach went over to the doors that concealed the elevator. There was a turnkey just below the open button. Treach reached over and pushed the knob. Nothing happened. Of course, they had to find the key first. Sliding Harlo’s tag into it didn’t work. Maybe they were going to need Brody’s assistance now that he was on their side.
The two went back up the stairs to the founder-level and stayed put until Brody came down with their dinner a little later.
Just in time for Treach and Lars to feed their starvation, Brody showed up with a plate full of goodies. They talked for a minute and then he took them into the Creator’s sepulcher room. He had another clone of his dream machine that he could leave down there as he showed Lars how to put it on Treach.
Brody found a safety cot in the closet behind Chester’s tube and stretched it out across the floor. Treach laid down on it until Lars had him entirely rigged for his slumber.
“Is this going to hurt? I’m not much on pain.” He looked down at the needle Brody was just about to poke into his arm.
“You won’t hardly feel it.” Brody stuck him quickly, and Treach winced while looking the other way. “You mean to tell me that you are afraid of needles, but aren’t afraid of bullets? A gang banger afraid of a little doctor shot. That’s ironic.” He laughed while Lars made sure Treach was comfortable, like a good nurse.
The tongue wafers were foregone this time; instead, the tube coming from his ear shot the neural dye into the ear canal as it saturated through to reach his brain and add to the other dye that was IVed into his forearm. His dream was dark but very informative.
The planet was seen from far out on his way in. He was cast out but never made it anywhere. He was suspended in between heaven and Trendago. The planet was radiating waves of vaporous heat, suggesting that something was working from the inside out. The soil opened all around the expanse of radiating gases, which encircled Trendago in a mile-wide stretch. He could have sworn it was a mirage, something his mind conjured that was stemming from the past. He saw the stacks of bodies that were woven into tight rings with smoke coming up through the middle of them like a human smokestack. They started peeling away as they crumbled one by one into barrels that were placed alongside them. Each burning body was depicted as the fate they went through before the seven-year erase. He could have sworn that he wasn’t even worthy of this second chance. He should have been one of those in the stacks. At that moment of him thinking that, while he was dreaming, he saw himself crumbling from the middle of a stack. As he rolled over, the red topsoil, all cracked and arid looking, withered him to nothing. He watched his own expression like looking into a mirror, and it changed him. He didn’t care. His dream being had already given up. He was getting what his conscience thought he deserved.
A large, serpent-like being, with ground-busting jaws, emerged through the cracks in the soil as it dove in and out like it was easily swimming in some far away ocean. The background was pale pink and sometimes dark with saggy, pre-rain, blue-bottomed clouds. Snaking its way toward the stack of bodies, the mammoth serpent had already devoured three distant stacks. In one bite, it sprang toward the sky and opened its mouth to come down and take all the remnants of those bodies into its stomach. The lava-red solar light refracted everything that was dark in the environment to even darker. Silhouettes of shadows cast outward from different objects. There were more army-green, scaly serpents emerging, taking stack after stack, ensuring that none were going to their rightful resting place. The dry, molting, skin serpents performed everything in unison, like they were being controlled by a greater power.
The devil, in the flesh, rose up from the depths in the middle of a stack of bodies. He stood atop them after emerging from a crack in the middle of this dry sea of desert. His two horns forked out and then back in toward each other from atop his head, which had smoke smoldering off them. His eyes were deep in flame around where normal people’s whites are. He stuck his forked tongue out to feel the tem
perature of the air. One hundred and twenty-nine degrees, not hot enough. His hoof-like hands pinched a demi-dog’s throat as it dangled lifelessly from his powerful grasp. Even hanging from his waist, the eleven-foot long dog wasn’t half the size of Satan. On the other hand, there were locks of someone’s hair that looked familiar. It looked like Brody, but older. His eyes were wide open. The face was pudgy, appearing as if it had been held under water for too long. It was far past looking like a prune. Its spinal column was jelly-like, dangling from the base of the head like a grasshopper’s after getting decapitated.
Satan had abs of steel, with side muscles to match. His upper-half, exposed, was tanned, red, and hairless. His long, sharp–pointed, black goatee dropped down to cover the center of his massive chest. From his waist down was a different story. His two legs were stocky, very noticeably muscular, with calves that turned into sinewy hooves by the time they dropped past the ankles. He had a dragon’s tail that kept his long upper half balanced when he leaned back while hissing his evil laugh. He was more mental than physical, showing his victims their death in their minds before killing them. He was torturous, treacherous, and virile all wrapped up in the same being. A powerful influence, he got credit for all that was bad. The aridness of the desert was due to him. He wanted people to feel uncomfortable so they would respect him more when he created an oasis for them to get nourishment. He wanted them to give in to life, let it defeat them mentally so he could strengthen his underground armies. To him, his influence at the Tree of Knowledge wasn’t enough.
At that moment, the dream shifted. The head of Chester was dropped. It rolled down a small, circular, spiraling mini-ramp of raised molten lava rock until it reached the bottom of the middle where it disappeared underground. The head relocated to a body, but this wasn’t an ordinary human to which it attached. It was a slimy, pale thing with waterproof skin, a milky-looking Pastie person. Its mineralized body was dark and splotchy but always moist. Its eyes were replaced by blue, diamond jewels. They emitted rays that could be seen on solid objects. These were the devil’s people. His prey-league of underground mercenaries sent through the minds of those too weak to want to endure life; their sole task was to reproduce after impregnating themselves with the souls of the lost. In this case, it was those on the brink of forfeiting eternity to the good. They are numerous and span the globe in this mile-wide stretch of underground caves, canyons, mineral pools, and springs systems—numerous in the hundreds of millions.
This group of mercenaries was sent eastward from Trendago to Nostradama, linking to this underground the devil displaces them through whenever he desires. His goal is to seek those who have been eternally blinded. They are gifted a special pair of polar solar glasses, more to the likes of the gems in their eye sockets. Each person, good or bad, not yet buried in Nostradama, is sought out by these Dilator Pasties. There, glasses represent hiding those who are good or evil, the difference between whose eyes get subjected to the blinding, soul-piercing, overhead Polaris—Nostradama’s source of light—after Christ comes to escort the evil away from Trendago for this planet’s second resurrection. The problem arises when these mercenaries are figured out, yet not all are uncovered. As a larva grows to reproduce, so do mercenaries. Their world changes by underground evolution. Treach can see pods of the elite stemming from the dugouts in the cave system to change the entity as a whole. This portion of the planet has been altered into a metamorphosis of valiant souls who are finally discovered.
The good remain, like always. Treach noticed the elite, who are those seven mercenaries, sent from Earth, who never sinned in the beginning. They stand as pillars not yet released of their form, but who hold light in wait of emitting. The dream reveals the words: In frontia delucelaleh comaini alfibtoya, encounter the light with strength from the almighty. These are the pillars of goodness, seven standing taller than anything else around, who bring water to the barrens and grow their leagues of good mercenaries where the farmers and gatherers band together to form the army that will fight off any of Satan’s leagues, underground or above, whatever the case implies. These pillars are the towers of Larami who, in the past, has been the sole reason why Trendago exists. This is not a person but a state of mind. There is one chosen entity on this planet meant to discover the purpose of what the future holds. He is a wise youth, not too young to understand his purpose. He will not come across as a savior, but he will have glimpses of wisdom uncanny for his age. He will arise above other near chosen magistrates and climb quicker than anyone else around. He is a descendant of someone whom Satan had a hold to at one time. He is genetically encoded with a curse that only he can decipher. If he does so in time, he will be the sent savior who can get everyone back to heaven for their eternal ride. He must be keen to his gift though and not use it wrongfully. For the good of the bad are dependent upon him, this being their last chance at redemption, forgiveness, and spiritual survival as a whole.
The Dilators are of Satan and pose like they are friends. They manipulate people into believing that they are the chosen gifted with a special pair of glasses that allow them to see when everyone else around is blinded. Do not take the glasses when one of them offers, for when they remove them and put them over your eyes, you will see that they don’t have eyes themselves. They have stones that are full of curses in their sockets. These curses make them Satan’s chosen.
The only problem stemming from an encounter with a dark-spot-casting Dilator is that humans still have free will. They have the choice to believe, have faith in what they have been taught, or they can continue to deny it all. Those who choose the latter are all the more ignorant, because they are already aware of what can happen. They didn’t have to read it from some book and hear about it from some preacher’s chosen words. They saw it first-hand. They all lived through it and felt the agony of being cast away. They lived in resentment of not choosing the right when they knew they should have. Trendago was the consequence created solely for them, for their guilt, so they can now see in clear view what it is going to take to get the good, back to eternity.
Treach woke up and took the plug out of his ear while Lars removed the IV. Brody and Lars had been watching the monitor the whole time, trying to figure out what Brody was already aware of. They wanted to get under the gun and let the other one see their dreams, but Brody walked off. He had an epiphany.
Brody wanted to hook the dream machine to Chester’s tank and see what he had to offer. Why he didn’t think of this before made him feel a little stupid. He wasn’t entirely aware of everything that was going on, but he had a good idea, some feeling inside, that he was meant to work through his father.
The dream that kept repeating itself on the screen that was hooked to Chester was nothing more than a loop. This was a telltale sign that it was a decoy; a pre-programmed decoy in and of itself if anyone, like these prodigies, were to find this room. That’s where Brody got the idea to do this himself. He was genetically encoded with the same DNA to think like Chester, or if Bonnie one day flipped her lid, the recorded dream was meant to deter her away from the truth. Brody didn’t care how long it took, he was going to figure out the truth and reveal it.
The three helped each other to rig the contraption to the tubing using the portals from the other hoses as veins to the brain that was being kept alive inside. They stuck the IV in one tube that was blowing air in like it was Chester’s artery transporting oxygenated blood. The other was hooked to the tube coming out so all the neural dye, which, in this case, would have to be a lot more, would be recycled over and over again through the man’s brain. They rigged the screen near the tube but made sure not to touch it so the electromagnetic waves wouldn’t make the buzzers go off again. The dream started instantly:
Brody was in a coma for seven years. He is free of aging and suspended of his trials and tribulations for seven days during those seven years, the transformation (cloning) took place. The environment was altered (same characteristics),
but had a different aura. Because he did see the light, and was, at one point, pronounced dead spiritually, not physically, he was acquitted of sinful acts. He was also set free (miracle of forgiveness) of the penances accompanying those acts and relinquished a re-birth where his future sins were not as severe as those other lost souls, who weren’t suspended. He wouldn’t realize this truth until his dream machine leads him to the Freeland, where a blind seer explains the dilemma and how this suspended world was created solely for him. His mind had been creating the change while in a coma for those seven years of his physical and mental separation from reality, his being lost in the darkness. Nothing that he had done wrong in the past could be changed; the second life was not really his second chance.
Brody could only lead the estranged physically, but not mentally or spiritually, for their sins had already committed them to this place. His escape from the self-inflicting guilt that drew others into his realm, in the end, was a twist of faith and hope to none other than anyone higher than himself. For his soul will rise and his body will fall. The demons will be left the remnants of his physical being. With this superficial abidance, they can use it as a mask where those existing can only mimic his actions, notwithstanding his soul’s content. Those who were his friends were only tricks of his imagination, figments of memories from years past. They too (their bodies) will linger as their souls evaporate to go to places where they are supposed to eternally reside. For all were, at one point, children of God, who will be isolated to individual sects, because of their free-will choices, and temporarily remember the thoughts that got them sent here in the first place. One chance is all they were allotted. The dreamer asks through his mind, Where do those who transgress go before they are called or rejected to raise or lower in this mortal life?
Good and Evil : Freeland - Part Two (9781628547375) Page 12