by Ric Dawson
A thought morphed in my mind. The teardrop vibrated with the thought.
“What are you?”
“People. Humans,” I said.
“Input your intention.”
“We are exploring.”
“Data invalid. What is your task?”
“I don’t understand your question,” I replied.
I felt for any heat from the focus. Nothing. The teardrop wasn’t shadow.
“You are sentient?” the teardrop finally said, wobbling up and down excitedly.
“Yes, we are. Are you?” I asked.
“I am aware. Are you a Controller?” the teardrop asked.
“Controller?” I said.
I looked at Kane, who just shrugged.
Suddenly, the sky darkened and lightning flashed high above us in gathering clouds.
A thunderclap rocked the terrain and a lightning bolt smashed close-by. The ground where the bolt hit disappeared like it had been shattered.
“Beware. You are not Controllers.” The teardrop changed to a sphere and vanished.
Kane and I waited for it to reappear, but nothing happened. The sky cleared to its usual hazy glow.
“Let’s head back I suppose, can’t stay here forever,” I said.
“Roger.”
Kane maneuvered himself, while I stayed just in front so he could follow. We plunged into the mountain-top and descended level by level through the rock. We had to search around a bit before we found the right cave, but we finally did. We slipped into the sleep chambers, and I opened my eyes to black. The solution sloshed, warm and soothing. There was a small release on the hinged lid. I punched it, and the lid swung open.
“Hey. Lane. Fun trip?” Doc grinned down at me.
“Yeah, it was amazing, Doc.”
He leaned in, unhooked me from the sensors, and gave me a hand getting out of the chamber. TJ did the same for Kane.
“How long were we gone?” I asked.
“Six minutes,” Doc said.
FIRE FLIGHT
Lane
Kane and I sat down with Doc and TJ to debrief the astral test flight.
“So, Doc, is it possible to change what I look like in the astral realm?” I asked.
Dr. Fortas paused for a moment. “Yes. Keep in mind, what you see is what your mind wants to see to make the environment appear valid to your reality bias. To affect others, it helps to look like something that has significance to them. We believe a morphic field mechanism allows entities in the astral to communicate their projections. Therefore, attacks in the psi are about intensity of the perception-based psychological impact combined with the thought energy behind it. Thought energy provides a base effect, and the psychological impact acts as a multiplier of that effect.”
Kane started rubbing his right temple with his fingertips.
“Over my pay grade, Doc. We done here? I need a beer.”
Doc grinned. “How about this, Kane.”
Kane looked Doc in eye. “A beer sounds better.”
Doc raised his palms while shaking his head. “If I shoot you with a puff of smoke, then I shoot you with a bullet, which hurts more?”
“The bullet.”
“Right. In the astral, the mind sees the bullet and tells you this is going to kill you, and you die in the psi. The smoke doesn’t kill you. Get it?”
Kane sat back in his chair.
“I still want a beer, but okay, maybe. That’s beginning to make sense.”
“Good. Now add to that, the smoke can kill you too, you just don’t recognize the threat. The image you see creates psychological impact, while the energy behind it affects your manifestation and, potentially, your real self. Occultists call the process ‘contagion.’”
“So where does the energy come from?” I asked.
“We don’t know. Some researchers speculate an energy field lies between the emission levels of atomic spectra. It’s called blacklight. Other researchers believe a permeating morphic field contains a new energy which science has yet to model. Morphic regions are areas of intense interest to us.”
“Does that mean the explosion in Woodland Park occurred because I channeled blacklight energy with the medallion?”
“If the blacklight hypothesis is correct, then, yes. There’s a price to be paid. You were exhausted afterward, and there’s the question of the extent of damage to the cell tissues in your brain.”
“Channeling the blacklight energy is dangerous?” I asked.
“Possible. We don’t understand the thermal environment yet. As far as we know, you might be boiling your brain.”
“Well, Damn. Should I have headaches or feel pain?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“No,” I said.
“Curious.” Doc tapped his chin.
That evening the third member of our psi-combat team arrived with Julie. Doc told us Samantha ‘Sam’ Kinneson was an established talent in psychic research and had aided the FBI in solving many unsolved murder cases. Her half-shaved, wavy red hair caught my attention when she arrived at the facility. Stripes of platinum added highlights that competed with the nose ring, and studs that ran up both ears. She walked with a confident sway that captivated my eye and stoked desire. Julie came in right behind her.
I felt someone watching me, and glanced at Kane.
“Someone’s on point, looks like,” he said. He lifted his eyebrows, then shook his head and sipped his coffee. “Rookie.”
“Hello, everyone. Let me introduce Ms. Samantha Kinneson,” Julie said.
“Ms. Kinneson, welcome to the Octagon,” Doc said.
“Hi, thank you. Call me Sam,” she replied. “Please excuse my lateness. We had an eight-hour delay due to a freak blizzard in Great Falls, Montana.”
“Let me introduce the psi team,” Doc continued. “Lane is our team lead, and Kane is a former combat medic.”
“It’s very nice to meet you.” As she shook my hand, her eyes widened when she noticed the embedded circuitry.
“Is that a prosthesis?” she asked.
“Oh, no, the electronics are embedded, like robotics.” My face felt hot. The delicate scent of jasmine filled the air as she stepped closer.
“May I touch it?” she asked.
Kane choked and spewed coffee on his hand.
“Sorry.” Cough. “Wrong pipe,” he croaked.
“S-Sure, yes, of course.” I said.
Why am I nervous?
I held my hand out to her and felt her soft fingers trace the outline of the five lit bars of the focus. She gasped.
“There is a presence here. Do you feel it?” She looked into my eyes as if searching for something.
“Umm, no. Only me, here.”
She continued staring at me.
“Let me show you to your room. You can relax a bit and freshen up,” Julie piped up.
“Oh, yes, thank you.”
Taking Sam in tow, Julie headed down the hallway.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Samantha. My heart thumped and my palms flushed hot.
It felt like I had known her all my life.
We continued chatting with Doc but finally headed off to sleep. For once, I slept like a baby.
# # #
Before breakfast, Doc asked Kane, Sam, and I to try some communal meditation.
Sam’s tie-dyed silk top competed for my attention, but after slow-breathing, I could feel the relaxation taking effect. My palms felt warm and tingled. It felt as if invisible power flowed from them as my stomach muscles tightened. My mind felt extra-aware and the sensation spread outward. The hum of computers faded while a spatial construct grew in my mind. A growing sphere of perception embedded itself in the experience of three-dimensional awareness and expanded like the bubble of psi-consciousness. It was new and personal. As the relaxation deepened, the envelope of my consciousness expanded further. My bubble met other bubbles. Kane. Sam. As we met, my consciousness changed. I retained a sense of me, but now the construct blended and became us. I felt naked and expose
d. This didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore.
Lane: What is this place?
Samantha: We are inside each other’s mind at a very personal level.
Kane: Should we stop?
Samantha: No. This is sharing on a level I’ve never experienced. So personal. Almost intimate. We should explore this. Let’s get to know each other without distraction.
Kane: Okay. Everyone has to be truthful and honest.
Samantha: Okay. Lane?
Lane: Sure.
Kane: Mind if we start with you, Lane?
Lane: Start what? Uh, I guess not.
Kane: I always get the impression you’re holding something back. What’s up with that?
Lane: I don’t hold anything back.
Kane: You’re pulling back right now.
Lane: I’m fine.
Kane: Explain that.
Lane: What, no, wait.
Kane: You’re inauthentic, you’re lying to us right now. What are you hiding?
Samantha: Let it out, Lane. Show us who you are?
Lane: Stop. I can’t. I’m fine. Really.
Samantha: I’m afraid too, Lane.
Kane: Courage, Lane. We’re friends. Not your enemies.
Lane: Fine. I deserve everything, the defeats, the loneliness, all of it. There.
Samantha: Why?
Lane: I caused my mother’s and father’s death, my best friend, everything.
Kane: You’re lying again. That’s misdirection and you’re trying to manipulate us into feeling sorry for you. Forget it. That’s not going to happen.
Samantha: It’s about you, Lane. It’s inside you.
Kane: Why are you making yourself a victim? That’s a choice, you know. You’re doing that with intention. Why?
Lane: Fine. I was abused as a child, beaten by my aunt’s boyfriend, and I couldn’t sleep. Every time I did, things would come to me in my dreams, whispering horrible things I’d done. But I didn’t do any of the things they said. There.
Samantha: No. I don’t think that’s it, Lane. You’re trying to distract us again and distract yourself too. Bad things happen, but you’ve changed the way you see things because of it, and that’s a problem because it colors everything you do. You’ve hidden this from everyone including yourself.
Kane: Mostly from you. Spill it.
Samantha: What happened, has happened. It’s how that changed who you see -yourself- as that we question.
Kane: Stop that. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. More distraction, and it’s inauthentic. You’re trying to trick us and yourself.
Samantha: Face it, Lane. What do you see?
Lane: I was afraid, a coward.
Samantha: You were a child. What could you do? You did what any child would do. We are vulnerable beings. We can be hurt, Lane.
Kane: You created that, Lane. So toss it out. It’s not who you are.
Samantha: It’s completely created by you. Ask yourself this. Why did you create it?
Lane: Guilt. I guess.
Kane: You have to let go of the idea you can control things. Guilt assumes you had some way to change the outcome. You didn’t. You’re trying to give yourself control. Why do you need to control things?
Samantha: Forgive yourself. Allow yourself to be human, Lane.
Lane: You don’t understand. Night terrors, they came when I was helpless, always when you’re helpless.
Kane: The night terrors, the evil things? You couldn’t stop them, still can’t.
Lane: Stop, no really, stop. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
Kane: Fine. Sam, what’s with the hair, and studs?
Samantha: What?
Kane: You heard me.
Samantha: You’re a real prick, you know that? I like to express my individuality. Okay.
Kane: Really? Why?
Samantha: Because I can. What’s it to you?
Kane: Well, we just deep-fried Lane in his own juices. And I’m getting a similar vibe from you. You’re hiding something.
Samantha: I’d rather talk about that fake tough guy face you show everyone. Did you murder some babies or something?
Kane: Bitch, you need to shut up.
Samantha: Hmm.
Kane: Okay, that came out wrong. You don’t know what it’s like.
Lane: She’s just trying to help you, Kane.
Kane: When you feel someone die by your own hand, up close and personal, then we’ll talk. In that last moment before the light in their eyes dims. When that realization hits, something in you dies too.
Kane: You tell anyone you saw a tear in my eye and I’ll kill you.
Samantha: It’s an astral tear, or whatever this construct is. Sweetheart, you’re safe.
Samantha: So. I suppose the truth, in part, maybe I needed to rebel. Everyone tells you how to be, how to dress ‘right,’ how to act ‘right,’ and when something happens, it’s your fault. You’re a man, you don’t have to deal with that like women do.
Kane: Nice dodge. Complete bullshit, too.
Lane: What? I thought that was pretty legit.
Kane: Things happen, Lane. Remember. It’s how it changes you that matters. I want to know what happened, and how it changed her? What walls she built. What she hides from the world and herself.
Samantha: Similar as with Lane, I suppose. Girls suffer this a lot. It’s horrible, and common. Satisfied?
Kane: Okay. Here’s your homework. Call whoever is highest on your list of assholes. Tell them you forgive them. Don’t be drawn into a conversation. Just tell them that, listen to the response. Then hang up.
Samantha: Uh. No.
Kane: It’s the only way to clean it out of your head, and close it. Besides, you’re with us, no one’s going to get to you.
Samantha: I’ll think about it.
Lane: Why don’t we try some relaxing vibes? Channel some compassion?
Kane: Nice pivot, Lane. You going to tell her about the stiffy with that compassion sandwich?
Lane: What! Dammit, Kane.
Samantha: Did I miss something?
Kane: Lane’s got a crush on you.
Lane: Damn. Kane, stop.
Kane: Okay, fine. Compassion, here I come. Oomm.
It took a while for my mind to settle. When it had, I could sense the pulse of life in Kane’s body. I could taste the warm, exotic flow of the female aura around Sam. We were connected by a stream of shared consciousness that shed spatial and temporal restrictions. Even though our chat had been brutal. I felt closer to both of them than anyone in my entire life. A power grew inside me. Confidence. Something released me. Something I’d put in place. I felt lighter, glowing. Cosmic wellness washed over me as tears poured from my face. I knew this feeling. I’d experienced it with the compassion egregor. Eden lost, then found. Everything happened so fast.
Soft music played a tantric tone, and we all emerged from the whatever-just-happened.
“Wow. Just. Wow,” Sam said.
She bounced in her chair, and I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. I shifted position to hide my erection. Her breasts pressed hard against the silk fabric.
“I connected to both of you on a whole different level of being. I felt fulfilled unlike anything I’ve experienced. Well except for that weird mental conversation thing. Wow. The emotions were so real and personal,” she said.
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br /> I nodded and reminded myself to look at her face.
Kane sat quietly. His eyes looked forward at the wall as if piercing the veil of the world. With a slow exhale and growl, his jaw clenched. Taking a deep inhale, he turned to us.
“We must show people this,” he said. Then he cracked his neck against his shoulder.
“We must defeat them.” His eyes were hard, intense.
I just nodded, a little uneasy by the sudden shift from oneness to deadly focus. The anger in Kane’s eyes spoke of vengeance.
“This is the hidden secret we have missed,” I said. “They do not want us to have this experience. It would change the world.”
“And it can be learned!” Sam chimed in.
“They would rather we wallow in desire of things inconsequential, while spending emotional energy chasing absurd expectations,” I said.
“I agree, Lane. Oneness, saffety, and wholeness, that is what we were meant to have. It has been taken from us. Stolen. Did you feel the tingling and rush of energy along your arms and hands? Even my toes spankled!” Sam continued. She gestured with her hands in sweeping motions along her arms while bouncing in place and wiggling her sandaled toes.
Kane looked at me with a raised eyebrow and mouthed, “Spankled”?
I grinned and shrugged.
Sam’s energy was contagious. I even caught Kane smiling a few times.
“Come on, you two. I know you felt it too.” Sam’s eyes twinkled.
“What? The rush of energy? It overwhelmed me,” I said.
“I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about,” Kane said.
“What?”
“Sensual. Erotic. Neither of you felt that?” Sam raised her eyebrows and glanced at me.
“Umm.”
Did she mean sexual?
“That’s a distraction we should be wary of,” Kane replied.
“Spoiler. I’m starved. Anyone hungry?” Sam said.
She glanced at me again, and I felt my face grew hot.
The late breakfast consisted of pasty oatmeal, toast, and some juice in preparation for a day of medical probing. Oh. Joy. Kane paid little attention to anyone, while Sam chatted with TJ.
Doc and Jeff were already in the labs. The whole time I couldn’t take my mind off of Sam’s earlier conversation. Everything about her captivated my imagination. Even her light jasmine scent jumbled my thoughts. When I wasn’t thinking about Sam, I wondered why there were no emergencies. Over the last few weeks every time I tried to sleep or recharge, I ended up astral walking.