Of course their world will come crashing down on them when the Harvesters come to collect them and deliver them to a customer. But when they awake from paralysis in their new world, they will have forgotten about their previous life—they will experience complete amnesia. But they will rapidly adjust to the new world and still have the skills they have been trained in on their home planet. They will simply go about their new jobs.
“Unlike Earth, most civilizations on other planets have a wider viewpoint. They know that there are other beings in the universe and cultures on other planets. It would be comparable your people knowing about other countries here on Earth, the difference being that the primary breeding planet is so densely populated that they grow very little of their own food and therefore they must be provided for by surrounding ‘farm’ planets which they trade with in exchange for whatever technology they have been trained in—such as medical services, farming equipment, technical support, whatever.”
“Just imagine an immense room of 1.5 billion tech-support people, each in an 8 foot by 8 foot cubical, talking to a customer on another planet; helping him download his software! Imagine a factory 100 miles long with ten million workers, each placing one component on a colossal mining machine as it moves down the production line.”
This is what the universe has become Tim. And each one of these degraded workers was once an immortal, free, creative and completely powerful free spirit. Every bum you see on the street was once all free, every sick pervert, every evil bastard; they all ARE, beneath the degradation and the amnesia, wonderful spiritual beings.
“No amount of explaining or preaching is going to give you back those abilities. You must discover and disable the disabilities that have been in installed in you that keep those native abilities suppressed.”
She shrugs, knowing that I do not understand. I sense her exasperation—a billion years of exasperation.
“I think it helps Espree. And I believe your explanations are essential for me.”
“Yes? How so.”
“Well, suppose I find myself in a maze. Only I don’t know what a maze is. I wander through the maze in confusion. Wondering what this is all about. Confused, lost.
“Now suppose I know all about mazes because you explain them to me. You explain their purpose, their construction, and some of the secrets to getting out.”
“When I encounter the maze I am much better prepare to conquer it.”
She smiles. “You’re really very smart Tim―much smarter than I.”
I can’t help but smile and shrug.
“Smart, but extremely ignorant.”
My smile fades quickly.
Espree has turned to the viewer and enters the code.
The scene on the viewer changes to what looks to be the inside of a colossal factory. Lined up in rows as far as the eye can see, are thousands of identical machines that remind me of robots in an automobile plant. Each of these machines is fed by a conveyor that seems to me moving some sort of baggage beneath it.
Espree zooms in to one side of the factory floor and, to my dismay, I see that the conveyors are not carrying baggage; they are carrying the same kind of humanoid people I just viewed out on the street. Espree called them “Sentientals”.
They are all lined up at one side of the factory floor―millions of Sentientals standing in straight rows before each of the conveyors. They are being strapped onto conveyor belts one by one by the same type of colorful creatures I saw in the Traps Ship—the Citizonians! But these particular Citizonians have much larger, more muscular arms. I suppose they are a different ‘race’ used in these factories.
“That’s right,” says Espree, there are five Citizonian races―you have seen two of them.”
The Citizonians all wear the same yellow jumpsuit with a black belt and some kind of logo on the chest. Two of them are standing at the end of each conveyor where the lines of Sentientals begin. They look to be about 1½ times larger than Sentientals. As each Sentiental steps to the front of the line, a Citizonian grabs them as if they were merely a bag of luggage and loads them onto the conveyor.
Amazingly, as soon as one of the Sentientals is grabbed by a Citizonian, they begin to struggle, obviously trying to free themselves! Why are they struggling if they were waiting in line? Is there someone with a gun behind them? I don’t see anyone. As they struggle, one of the Citizonians holds them down while the other one secures it to the conveyor with straps!
I am flabbergasted! The Sentientals are just standing there in long lines waiting their turn! Why would someone stand there watching the person before them be strapped to a conveyor and yet struggle to get away when their turn comes, it doesn’t make sense! They obviously object to being strapped to the conveyor, then why are they sitting there waiting their turn?
“Why are they struggling Espree?”
“They are essentially in a hypnotic trance. The ‘spirit’ is in a trance, the body is not. The body will react as a body would react when it is grabbed. Had you tried to pick me up when I was “gone”, my body probably would have resisted it.”
“OK, and why are they being loaded onto those conveyors?”
“Just watch,” says Espree. She adjusts the viewer and we follow one of the bodies as it moves down the line. One of the bodies stops beneath a machine. A long needle extends out from the machine and punctures the stomach of the Sentiental beneath it! I see the poor creature obviously wincing in pain! This is horrible!
The needle is withdrawn and the Sentiental relaxes and seems content.
“Are they injecting them with a sedative?”
“No, they are injecting them with a spirit.” Says Espree matter-of-factly.
The conveyor moves to the next one and the procedure is repeated.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“They are called ‘injectors’ Tim,” explains Espree still unimpressed. “After a spirit is conditioned in the Mind Fabricator—which we haven’t visited yet―it is injected into a body.
“OK, what are these Mind Fabricators?”
“We will get to that very soon Tim. Other than the Spirit Trappers, they are the most significant step in your current degraded condition. Let’s take it a step at a time.”
She turns back to the viewer.
“The newly trapped and conditioned spirits are injected by these machines into a body. These are all pregnant women. They have been conditioned to come to this place near the end of their pregnancy. These machines are actually injecting spiritual beings into the fetus of its future mother.”
“They’re using machines to inject spirits into bodies? This is crazy. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m not asking you to believe me Tim. You asked me and I’m telling you.”
“It’s just so ridiculous Espree. This is all so crazy —it’s absurd!”
She smiles. “This is your life Tim. This is one of the steps along your journey?”
“I’m sorry Espree, this is just too weird.”
“Can you show me a spirit injected into one of those creatures?”
“I can certainly try.” She turns to the viewer. “Would you like to hear what’s going on in there?”
“Sure.”
She types in the word “View-Station” as a sub-search.
The scene in the viewer changes to a view from a location just above one of the machines. She turns a knob and I can hear the audio translator come on. I am transfixed by the scene before me.
I hear innumerable machines each sounding like an air gun as the needle thrusts into the victims’ stomach. It’s terrible!
Espree adds a sound filter to reduce the background so I can hear the voice of the creature operating the machine. She turns the translator on so the will translate their words to English. The creature appears to be having trouble operating its machine.
“Damn, this piece of crap!” It says.
Like all the other creatures operating the machines this one is dressed in a yellow jumpsuit with a black belt and a logo
in the center. It is obviously frustrated with the machine as it furiously pulls levers and pushes buttons. Finally it reaches out with one of its hands and slaps the injector. Apparently it’s not succeeding in getting the machine to work.
All the while, the long steel needle has remained inside the pregnant stomach of the female body. She is obviously in pain! This is horrible! And worse, the operator doesn’t seem to care—his only concern is with the machine.
The operator turns away from the machine—apparently looking for someone. “Mog! Mog, come here!” he says, “This piece of crap is jammed again!”
A short distance away the one he addressed as Mog―wearing a blue jumpsuit – turns toward him. He seems to be glaring at him—the ridge on this head stiffens and turns red and the green coloration takes on a hue of orange as he walks up to the operator.
“Jos! What did you do now?” He looks down at the squirming body and reaches for a lever, retracting the needle from the body. “And would you take the damn needle out before you wreak another body!”
“This machine is a piece of crap,” says Jos, “that’s all; it’s just a piece of crap. I can’t help it if it’s a piece of crap can I?”
“They’re all pieces of crap according to you Jos! But you’re the only one who can’t seem to make them work right. Maybe you’re the piece of crap! Ever think of that?”
Mog turns his attention to the injector.
“Jos!” He reaches over and flips a switch on the machine. “Look! You’ve got the damn ‘safety’ on! It can’t reset when it’s on safety!”
Jos’ cranial ridge goes limp and falls over and its yellow tint turns to dark green. “Oh. Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about that.”
Mog has turned bright yellow and his dorsal stands fully erect. “You’d forget your damn brain if it weren’t hard wired to your body.” He stands back and takes a deep breath―obviously trying to restrain his temper―then leans forward, pointing the long finger of his left hand between Jos’ dimmed yellow eyes. “Now listen to me. These machines ain’t pieces of crap unless you make them crap. They don’t break down unless you break ‘em down and they don’t jamb until you jamb ‘em. SO QUIT FREAKIN’ JAMMING ‘EM!”
He turns away momentarily, then―apparently coming to a decision―turns back toward Jos. “This is your last warning Jos. If you can’t run an injector, I’m gonna put you on the front of the line and you can strap bodies. Got it?”
“Uh, yes sir,” says Jos, turning a pale grayish color of chagrin. He turns back to the injector, quietly reprimanding himself. “Stupid! That was stupid. C’mon Jos pay attention.”
He looks down at the body. The creature is staring fearfully up at him. “Please, it says pleadingly. Why are you doing to this to me! Why are you trying to kill my baby?”
“He doesn’t understand the language,” whispers Espree.
I see that the creature named Jos is ignoring her. He puts his attention back onto the machine and pulls a lever. I cringe as I see the needle plunging back into the swollen belly of the female. She cries in pain.
“It obviously hurts her, doesn’t he see that?”
Espree frowns. “The Citizonians become rather numb it after a million bodies have passed been injected.”
Jos pushes one of the buttons on the machine. I see a glowing blue sphere appear at the top of the needle. It moves down the needle, disappearing into the womb of the body. Then, as the blue sphere enters her body, the woman stops crying and relaxes. I see her eyes slowly close and her face evolve slowly into what looks like a smile.
“That blue glow is the energy surrounding a newly conditioned spirit,” explains Espree. “The spirit is being injected into the brain of an unborn child.
That blue glow is hauntingly familiar. I’m feeling another intense reaction coming on and I have to look away. Thankfully the feeling seems to evaporate.
Espree continues to explain. “The mental components that were created on the energy mirror that surrounds the spirit in the Mind Fabricator are preconditioned to configure themselves to the brain. It’s much like loading software onto your computer.
She stops suddenly. “Oh no! The blue sphere! Have I revealed the Mind Fabricator incident? Have I turned it on?”
She looks at me fearfully, apparently anticipating another psychotic attack.
“It’s OK Espree, it passed. I think I can distract myself when I feel it come on.”
I have to laugh. “This is like walking through a mine field isn’t it.”
“I will be careful.” She says.
She hesitantly turns back to the viewer.
”The spirit will begin to receive ‘perceptions’ from its new ‘mind’ via the brain. It’s all about channeling energy—it is no different than the metal pathways on a circuit board—only these circuit boards are much, much more complicated and composed of suspended energy rather than actual material.”
I am still appalled by this terrible machine. “This is horrible Espree! It’s barbaric! Why do they do it like that?”
“Apparently it must be done this way the first time. A newly ‘configured’ spirit must be mechanically placed inside a brain so that the new components can configure themselves. But after this life is over, the spirits will be so well indoctrinated with using a brain for perception and communication, that they will feel a terrible sense of loneliness and loss at death. I would be like losing your sight—which you literally do lose at death. This feeling will compel them to earnestly seek out another body to allow them to get back into communication again. They are programmed to “go into a light” which is apparently some kind of locating device that directs them to the next body and like a magnet. They will snap onto the uninhabited brain of a fetus that is near birth.” She looks at me sympathetically. “And that, my friend, is what you have been doing since ever since you were injected into your first body.”
I’m frustrated. Then why doesn’t anyone know this. Why can’t they remember?
As I pose the question my attention is again drawn to the deep dark, seemingly unconfrontable place in my mind. I quickly distract myself.
Do not go there Tim. You are not strong enough.
“You OK Tim?”
“I had to dodge another mine.
“So what do the Sentientals think is happening here?”
“The Sentientals themselves don’t know anything about this practice. They are taught that life begins at the moment of conception. They are educated to believe that life is a physical phenomenon that occurs when sperm and zygote combine. It’s the same ‘science that was injected into Earth’s culture—probably the same group of Breeder Agents trained at the same kind of school.
“These women will not recall any of what has happened here a few hours from now. They have simply been called here. When they reach a certain stage of pregnancy―a few months before the time of birth―a node will activate in their brain. When they arrive here they are in a hypnotic trance. When they are loaded onto the conveyors, their body reacts to the danger—although they are still in an unaware, hypnotic state. But then you can’t force a person—even under hypnosis—to do something against their will. But once they have been restrained, they will calm down. Their body will react again when the needle punctures them. But they will calm right down again when the spirit actually enters their body. Combined with a strong sedative the injection is apparently a wonderful feeling. By the time the reach the end of the line, they will not remember anything about this place. They will go home and take a nap. When they awake they will not even know they have left.”
“What about their friends and their family? Don’t they wonder where they went?”
Espree smiles. “It’s all well protected by the social structure of the society here. Everything is well hidden by customs and religious rituals. This practice has been going on for millions of years and in that time, they’ve got it down to a real science.”
“What about the other guys, the Citizonians?”
Espre
e chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Oh the irony”, the Citizonians—as I have said before—DO know about EHF. According to the Citizonians, they are injecting the fetus with EHF of course.” She laughs. “As I said earlier, the Citizonians actually think the Sentientals are lower life forms with the capacity to reproduce. The reproduction technology was invented millions of years ago and patented by a company that manufactured biological bodies and supplied them to companies in need of low skill labor. Before that time, each and every body in this universe had to be built from scratch—just like an automobile or a robot. This patented reproductive technology was responsible for the creation of a whole new way of manufacturing bodies, a whole new way of creating large, inexpensive workforces and a huge demand for new, EHF units – i.e. Spiritual Beings.
Instead of building them out of prefabricated parts they could now breed them. It would be like GM growing fleets of cars. In fact, in the Acadia system they do just that. They grow genetically engineered space ships—and they pay a license fee for the use of the patented reproduction technology. You can bet that the holders of the reproduction patent are wealthy beyond your imagination. I believe they own an entire galaxy and it is a virtual material paradise.”
She turns to the viewer. “These people are ‘breeding’ what they think are merely EHF animated, lower life forms on colossal breeding planets such as this one.”
“You see, this is a primary breeding planet Tim. The purpose of a primary breeding planet is to breed EHF powered bodies. They ‘make’ trillions of them on these planets. The Citizonians believe that once a body has been ‘injected’ with EHF, its highly advanced computer—or brain—will begin to operate and function; like connecting a computer to a power supply and booting it up.
“This is what drives the market for the Spirit Trappers.
“Breeders are the universal suppliers of labor forces, armies, white collar workers, laborers, factory workers, sales forces, performers―anything involved in virtually any activity in this universe. A company will purchase a labor force from a Breeder. The Breeder develops a population and educates them in a particular skill—such as spacecraft’s or computers. The type of body will be appropriate to the profession. For example, an army will be bred on a planet indoctrinated in weaponry and a tooth and claw existence. The bodies will be genetically engineered to be big and strong and robust. Their culture will be lead by barbaric leaders and brave, orderly soldiers.”
Total Amnesia: Forgotten Lives Page 15