Metamorphosis

by Sesh Heri

“How did this happen?” I asked. “Was it an accident of war?”

  “No,” Djudhi said. “It was a Black Rite, the sacrificial consumption of the souls of a planet.”

  The planet had been broken into countless pieces, and now these parts, like so many pebbles, drifted in a great circle about the sun.

  “That planet became a field of asteroids,” I said.

  “Yes,” Djudhi said. “That is all that is left of it. To this day the fragments of that destroyed planet orbit the sun. We call it ‘The Hammered-Out Bracelet’.”

  “Who did this?” I asked.

  “The evil ones,” Djudhi said. “The Ones Who March. They have no other name among men. They have no name at all any longer.”

  “NYMZA,” I said.

  And then, an object flashed up out of the field of asteroid and approached us at great speed until its proportions loomed gigantic over Djudhi and me— it was that monstrous fish-head I had encountered on the bottom of the ocean.

  The fish-head shouted in a booming voice: “Yes!”

  “Pay it no heed,” Djudhi said.

  The fish-head instantly disappeared.

  “That was NYMZA,” I said.

  “NYMZA were responsible for the destruction of the giant planet,” Djudhi said. “For that and other crimes the evil ones were imprisoned beyond Time. Ever since then, they have sought to escape. Ever since then, they have sought to reach out to man and pluck from him the Key to Time. Behold.”

  The view of the asteroid belt dissolved before us, and engulfed us in that deep black again. Then the space before us brightened. A great city came into view, a metropolis perched in terraces on the side of a volcanic mountain range. On the highest terrace sat a pyramid of limestone, its surface polished to a glassy smoothness. Below the pyramid and terraces stretched a city of boulevards. At the lowest level of the city lay a harbor composed of concentrically circular waterways, and at the mouth of the waterways, near the edge of the open sea, stood a giant green statue of a woman wearing a seven-rayed crown, an almost exact duplicate of the Statue of Liberty.

  “This is Poseidon,” Djudhi said, “the main island of Atlantis as it exists now in our time. In a few short centuries it and this continent of Mu will be destroyed in an interplanetary war involving the people of Earth and Mars, as well as other civilizations from beyond our solar domain. The Destroyer of Atlantis and Mu approaches even now from across interplanetary space.”

  The view of Atlantis dissolved to reveal an object against a field of stars. It was a gray sphere surmounted by three other, smaller spheres on one side.

  “The Destroyer,” Djudhi said, “sent toward earth by a civilization mentally controlled by NYMZA.”

  “Can you stop it?” I asked.

  “We cannot stop it,” Djudhi said, “Earth will not be destroyed, but Atlantis and Mu will be. It is destined.”

  Djudhi raised his hand. Now a another scene formed before us: it was our planet Earth as viewed from outer space, as I had once seen it from a window of Mr. Tesla’s airship.

  “The earth,” I said.

  “Yes,” Djudhi said, “the earth several hundred years from our present time. Observe.”

  The gray spherical object loomed into view suddenly on a trajectory headed straight for earth. It flashed by in front of us, and I could see its rough, pitted surface and the three spheres attached to it in front. It sped on away, toward the earth, and then entered earth’s atmosphere, following a straight line while continuously flashing light. And then, in the center of the African continent, there was a brilliant, white flash, like an exploding star. Then, from the point of that explosion, a spiral gray cloud began to expand outward, spinning over the surface of the earth.

  “A massive collision,” I said.

  “So great,” Djudhi said, “that it will shift the rotational axis of the earth. Indeed, this is what the object from space will be designed to do.”

  “Can anyone survive this?” I ask.

  “Only a very few will survive,” Djudhi said, “in caves under the earth and in great sealed arks upon the surface of the seas. In those places the seeds of life will be stored, and after the cataclysm, life on earth will be reestablished.”

  The spiral gray cloud had moved over the surface of the earth rapidly until now the whole planet was cloaked in gray.

  “And then?” I asked.

  “And then a great period of karmic incubation ensues,” Djudhi said. “A preparation on the physical and astral planes for the coming civilization on earth— the machine civilization— your civilization. When the earth’s axis shifts, our planet’s weather patterns will be changed into four distinct seasons. This will make widespread agriculture possible, and this, in turn, will make it possible for billions of souls to incarnate in flesh and live upon the planet— billions of souls who will create the Age of Iron, the Age of the Machine. It is through the Machine that NYMZA will try to break through into the material universe. It will be at the end of a precessional cycle when our planet is aligned with an emission of energy from the center of the galaxy that will dull man’s mind and make him susceptible to mental influences. This is the age for which NYMZA have waited, an age when they can reach mankind through the machines he builds and thus finally ring the Bell of Time. This energy from the center of the galaxy comes from a great cosmic body that we call the Hidden Sun or the Black Sun. It is the Closed Eye which will open to deliver an Age of Chaos and Fiery Death.”

  Djudhi raised his hand. The view of earth dissolved, to be only replaced by a grassy plain with a brilliant blue sky overhead. We seemed to be flying over the surface of the landscape.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “And terrible,” Djudhi said.

  We approached a great scattering of dark shapes lying about in the grass. As we got closer, I could see they were the bodies of men. Some were dressed in armor and some in brown robes. They were all dead. Nothing moved.

  “A battlefield,” I said.

  “The place of one of your deaths,” Djudhi said. “The man laying there in the grass with the shield over his chest was you in this life. You were a warrior, a knight. You have died many deaths in battles, in wars. This has been one of your important karmic lessons. You have learned how to die well, with courage. You have looked into the eyes of the mystery of war. War is the work of NYMZA; it is the manipulation of mankind. NYMZA seek the blood, for in blood there is Time, the frequencies of karmic motion. With the shedding of blood, the karmic frequencies are projected into the astral plane where NYMZA can reach out for them. Always NYMZA thirsts for the frequencies— possession of the frequencies— so that they may use them to live again in our material universe. This— the karmic frequencies— are the Key to Time. Through war, NYMZA seek the Key to Time. So they reach out to the minds of men with thoughts of vanity and power, and with those thoughts come the drawing of boundary lines, the establishment of calendars, the organization of the field harvest and the cattle butchering, the marriage rites, the birth rites, the funeral rites, the establishment of homelands— mankind divided into organized groups, mankind seeking the Key to Time for himself, not realizing that behind him, all the while, looms NYMZA, waiting to seize the Key of Time from man’s hand. And so the seeds of conflict are planted, and war soon shoots forth its root and branch, and blood is spilled in an organized pattern, ritually, at specific times and places, and in this way the karmic frequencies travel in waves toward the prison cell of NYMZA. And we men are caught in this karmic entanglement. We, who would seek peace, must always fight war to stop those who would destroy us. Our own karma— our own desire to live the physical life— draws us into war. It is the Great Trap of NYMZA.”

  “Is there no way out?” I asked.

  “We must fulfill our destinies,” Djudhi said, “and in so doing some day find detachment. And until then—“

  Djudhi raised his hand again, and again the scene shifted, dissolved, and, in rapid succession, before us flashed scene after scene o
f battle— English soldiers in red coats falling before the volley of cannon— crowds falling before gunfire in the streets of Paris— men upon the walls of the Alamo firing long rifles amidst clouds of gunpowder smoke— Confederate soldiers falling from rifle shot upon a farmer’s hilly field— and then— I saw soldiers in metal helmets coughing and gasping for air as they crawled through earthen trenches filled with a strange yellow smoke— then more helmeted soldiers falling before machinegun fire, falling into barbed wire fences— and then—

  Suddenly Djudhi and I seemed to stand upon a vast, dark plain. I looked out upon this desolate landscape. Nothing moved. And then—

  A ball of white light exploded upon the horizon with the roar of ten thousand strokes of thunder. In another instant, it expanded to a giant sphere, and the night sky suddenly became day— not a blue sky, but a sky of white-gray— and then the smoke from the blazing ball of light rose up— a column of debris being lifted off the surface of the earth by super-heated air.

  “This is the year 1945 by your calendar,” Djudhi said. “Man in this time now has fully regained the power to destroy worlds, and is beginning to use it to destroy his own.”

  “Will we destroy ourselves?” I asked.

  “It is the desire of NYMZA,” Djudhi said. “But the total destruction of mankind will not occur in 1945. But many innocent souls shall perish in the fires of atomic explosions.”

  Djudhi raised his hand. We were suddenly transported to a city street near a beautiful little park. A mother walked hand in hand with her small child. I saw that they were oriental people. Suddenly a ball of fire exploded in the sky directly behind them, and in that single thunder stroke the mother and child were instantly x-rayed and vaporized.

  “No!” I screamed. “This cannot be! This will not be!”

  “It will be,” Djudhi said. “We cannot stop it. It is destined. It is fixed in time. Many terrible things are fixed in time. It is not in our power to change them.”

  “What is in our power?” I asked.

  “Our own destinies,” Djudhi said. “We must live our own lives, do what we can, do what we will. But this catastrophe is fixed, as are many others. Such as this one.”

  The terrible scene of a city crumbling into black ruins dissolved, to be replaced with the view of a farmhouse and a field of corn beyond it, all shining under a full moon. Suddenly a bright yellow disc flew across the sky and stopped over the cornfield. Two silhouetted figures emerged from the disc and flew down to the back door of the farmhouse.

  “What is this?” I asked. “Some kind of airship?”

  “A vessel that travels between dimensions,” Djudhi said. “It has arrived through a tear in the astral plane created by the atomic explosions.”

  The view shifts to show the beings next to the farmhouse. They are strange gray-skinned men with large black eyes. They pass through the wall of the farmhouse like ghosts.

  “Are they material or etheric?” I asked.

  “Neither,” Djudhi said. “They come from a dimension for which mankind has no name. They take on this form in our world, but this is not their actual form.”

  The gray beings suddenly emerged from the wall of the farmhouse with a little boy in pajamas of about six years of age.

  “This is the year of your calendar 1962,” Djudhi said.

  “What do those things want with that boy?” I asked.

  “They want his karmic frequencies,” Djudhi said. “They sample his flesh and blood and store them for study. They will try to use the boy’s frequencies as a key to creating other frequencies artificially.”

  “Why do they do this?” I asked.

  “They work under the direction of NYMZA,” Djudhi said. “The beings are slaves of NYMZA. They sample the frequencies and create conditions which shock and baffle the human mind. This stimulates the astral bodies of men and opens up channels of projection on the astral plane.”

  The view of the farmhouse faded to be replaced with the bright, white walls of a scientific laboratory. Men and women in white coats sat at tables looking into microscopes.

  “And during this period,” Djudhi said, “man continues his own search for the Key to Time. It is searched for in the flesh and blood. Part of the decoding of the karmic frequencies is to be found there.”

  “That’s what these people are doing?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Djudhi said. “They are working for something that will be called ‘The Human Genome Project’.”

  Now the view shifted to another city on the edge of a body of water. This was a very large city rising up under another brilliant blue sky. This place seemed very familiar to me, and in a moment, I recognized its configuration by a park at the water’s edge. It was New York City, but greatly changed from the New York I knew. I recognized Battery Park and Castle Clinton and Broadway and the Woolworth Building. But lower Manhattan now was densely packed with giant skyscrapers. The two tallest buildings were mammoth white rectangles that must have been a hundred stories tall. The buildings were exactly the same, like twins.

  “New York,” I said.

  “Yes,” Djudhi replied, “in the year 2001. This is the turning-point in time for the human race, the beginning of the end for the Machine Age. Behold.”

  Above the Hudson River I suddenly spotted a large white airplane approaching the city. It came in, flying low over Greenwich Village, directly toward one of those white rectangular skyscrapers. The plane kept flying in a straight line toward the building.

  “It’s going to— “ I started to say.

  The plane hit the white building. A ball of fire flashed from a corner.

  Djudhi raised his hand. The scene dissolved to several minutes later. I could now see that the whole building was on fire. Great clouds of smoke covered the tops of both of the white skyscrapers. Suddenly the building that had been hit by the plane collapsed vertically like a banner dropping to the ground, leaving behind it only the empty space of the sky.

  “Lower Manhattan shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye,” Djudhi said, and he lifted his hand, and the scene dissolved. Both of the twin skyscrapers were gone. In their place was only a big pit in the ground.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why does this happen?”

  “There are many levels of causation,” Djudhi said. “War always has its material causes, but on the astral plane, it is the work of NYMZA.”

  Djudhi raised his hand. The scene of New York vanished to be replaced by a view of a great throng of people walking down Fifth Avenue in New York.

  “Humanity before the final culmination of the Machine Age,” Djudhi said. “Now man prides himself on his knowledge and power, his dominion over the earth. But the machines he uses to travel to and fro and to store his information now do most of the work for him. The important things happen outside man’s mind and body and man himself exists as a sleep walker, not knowing that he is almost a total slave of a system of machines controlled by a very few men— men who march to the orders of NYMZA. The machines which man will create in this period will have a limited range of activity, and those who attempt to make the kind of machines which would give power to the individual will be stopped by those in authority. More discoveries and inventions will be suppressed than will be developed and publicly used during this period. Forms of inexpensive energy and cures for illnesses will be kept secret. Man’s lifespan will increase slightly, but he will exist as a crippled entity dependent upon machines which will only prolong illness, not cure it. Eventually even children will become dependent upon a system of machine medicine issuing from the Machine State. Those obedient to the Machine State will be treated. Those who rebel will be denied treatment, eventually even denied food and water.”

  Then a view of a long tunnel appeared before us, its walls covered by metal panels and flashing lights.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “A small portion of the Final Machine,” Djudhi said, “the ultimate machine made by mankind. It is a man-made brain which will rule manki
nd and ultimately destroy it, a machine which will assign an identification number to every human on the planet. The identification number will be derived from that person’s frequency in Time— the number will be taken from the flesh and blood.”

  The view before us shifted, revealing an object immersed in a large reservoir of water; it was flashing bolts of electricity— the object was the Bell. A large electrical cable came out of the top of the Bell and led to a metal wall of flashing lights set above the reservoir.

  “The Bell,” Djudhi said. “It is the central receiver of all the information, all the karmic frequencies. The Bell is designed to deliver the karmic frequencies to the astral plane, to be absorbed by NYMZA.”

  “When will this happen?” I asked. “After New York is attacked?”

  “Yes,” Djudhi said, “the attack on New York is the beginning of the events. After the buildings fall in New York, there will be more war, more spilling of blood, then— greater fear and greater organization of humanity through the use of machines— the culmination of the Age of Iron. All people will become slaves of the machine, and individual thought and traditional religion will be abolished. The course of events will become clear to all after the killing of the world’s high priests and great teachers. In the Age of Iron all forms of organized religion, philosophy, and government will become corrupted until nothing will be left but a rotten husk.”

  The scene before us dissolved into a view of a dreary nighttime landscape. In the distance an orange glow and billows of smoke rose over the skyline of a city. Below, close to us, a small man of the oriental race ran through a muddy canal. He came close to us. He was wearing a robe covered in blood. His mouth and eyes were opened wide in horror and desperation.

  “Who is this man?” I asked.

  “He is called Dalai Lama,” Djudhi said. “He is the high priest of the religion called in your time ‘Buddhism’.”

  “Why is he running?” I asked.

  “To preserve his life,” Djudhi said. “He is being pursued. All of his fellow priests and associates have been murdered.”