The Power of Twelve

by William Gladstone

  Arnie smiled, thinking of the presents he would be receiving on his birthday.

  “Yes, Papa. I am very proud to be a Wheeler. Please tell me who we really are,” Arnie asked with excitement in his voice.

  His father, however, did not answer, but nodded toward Mackenzie Hardy, who started speaking. “Arnie, my boy, as a Wheeler, you are part of the noble network of families who are responsible for regulating the economic and political destinies of every being on planet Earth. We are known as the Illuminati, and we have been running the world for at least the past three hundred years. Once in a great while, like during World War Two, our plans get off track and incidents take place that should have been avoided, but all in all, we are responsible for all that is good on this planet.”

  “But in school they taught us that Hitler was responsible for World War Two,” Arnie interrupted.

  “That is what we want people to think, but in reality Hitler was just working for the Illuminati. We misjudged his character and he lost control of his mission. Before we knew it, he had launched a full-scale global war. It could have been avoided had he not been such a fool.”

  Mackenzie Hardy stopped to take another bite of lamb and sip of wine.

  “Arnie, do you remember when we visited that swampland two years ago and nobody but us even bid to buy those four hundred acres?” Arnie’s father interjected.

  “Of course I remember. That was the day you let me drive almost half a mile in your Rolls-Royce,” Arnie answered gleefully.

  “Well, the reason no one bid was because everyone knew that that land could never be used for anything but as a storage place for industrial waste. That is, until Mr. Hardy used his connections with the Illuminati to change the zoning,” Mr. Wheeler explained, relishing the thought of the tens of millions of dollars he had “earned” in that single transaction.

  “Why, just thinking about his kindness I cannot help but offer up another toast to Mr. Mackenzie Hardy and the diligent protection and assistance of the Illuminati,” Mr. Wheeler toasted again with a wide smile on his face.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Hardy acknowledged and then turned to Arnie with a kindly but intense stare. “What your father says is true. It is only because of the Illuminati that you have so much wealth. This will never change. You are, as is your father and your mother and as will be your brothers and sister, part of the Illuminati for your entire lives. It is a great privilege to be a member, but it comes with a great deal of responsibility. Do you know what responsibility is?”

  “Not really, but I guess it’s like taking out the trash if you agree to do a chore like that,” Arnie offered.

  “Yes, it is exactly like taking out the trash.” Mackenzie Hardy smiled. “You could not have chosen a more apt example. When you are older you may be asked to take out quite a bit of trash. It may sometimes be human trash, but it will be trash nonetheless. Will you be able to accept this responsibility?”

  “Of course I will, if that is what I must do to honor my mother and father,” Arnie responded.

  “It is less about honoring us than honoring the Illuminati,” his mother interrupted. “The Illuminati are greater than your father and I. The Illuminati are greater than any single family, any head of state, or any human being you will ever meet. You must promise Mr. Hardy and your father that whatever happens to you in this life you will always honor and obey the commands of the Illuminati.”

  “Of course I will, Mother,” Arnie concurred as he returned to eating his lamb.

  Mr. Hardy looked again at Arnie and told him, “Arnold, I can tell that you are going to be a great man and a loyal servant to the Illuminati. Who knows? Perhaps one day you will merit my role as the Grand Light and Keeper of the Code of the Illuminati yourself.”

  “So that is why my parents are so taken with Mr. Mackenzie Hardy,” Arnold contemplated. “He is the leader of the Illuminati. He must be the most powerful man on Earth. Someday I will be too. I will observe, listen, and learn.”

  And that is exactly what Arnie Wheeler did every day for the next thirty-seven years, until by unanimous decree of the inner circle of the Illuminati he was indeed appointed the Grand Light and Keeper of the Code.

  Arnold raised his glass to himself, enjoying the exquisite beauty of his original Picassos and Monets on his living room wall. Outside, the Sun had disappeared completely, and the incoming surf was lit only by the house’s security lights. “To the Code!” Arnold toasted out loud. “To the Code that will preserve the power of the Illuminati for the rest of time.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHOCOLATE, CAFFEINE, AND CONSCIOUSNESS

  ABIGAIL WAS ADJUSTING to being in a human body, and Barbara was adjusting to sharing her consciousness with Abigail. Most of the time the two consciousnesses were in harmony, but from time to time Abigail would insist on taking control. In particular, she had developed a fondness for dark chocolate and insisted that Barbara purchase chocolate bars wherever they went. Soon she was consuming two to three large chocolate bars a day.

  Barbara tried to slow down Abigail’s consumption, but to no avail. Barbara found herself getting jittery from the extra caffeine, waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to get back to sleep. “Abigail, this chocolate craze has got to stop. If we don’t sleep through the night we will not have enough energy the next day.”

  Abigail responded, “I’m sorry. On planet Naranjada sleeping is optional and not something I do very much.”

  “Well, when you have a human body you need to sleep, or the body does not function. How about we limit our chocolate to one bar a day?”

  “All right,” Abigail conceded with a sigh, “just one bar. But I sure love chocolate.”

  In other aspects of her life, though, Abigail’s presence was giving Barbara a big boost. For instance, Eve was amazed at how quickly Barbara was answering the door and almost rushing to pick up phone calls. She assumed the new vitality was simply a response to the ever-increasing probability that Project Wake Up would become a global phenomenon. On the negative side, Eve noticed that Barbara was slow to recognize her neighbors and volunteers from her Foundation for Conscious Evolution. Eve assumed that the occasional forgetfulness was caused by the stress of so much happening at once.

  At the meeting at Jack’s, Jim had graciously offered to cover Eve’s traveling expenses to Mcely so that Barbara would have a traveling companion. Thrilled by the glamorous prospect, Eve spent days researching the area around Mcely. She discovered that, just like Lourdes and Fatima, there had been sightings of the Virgin Mary in the great forest surrounding Mcely. Prelates at the highest levels of the Catholic Church debated whether to recognize these miracles or not, and in the end they decided not to. Their decision was not based on the factual evidence, which included three different reports of the sightings from three separate and reliable witnesses, but rather the political climate in Eastern Europe at that time. Eve’s research also found that the area around the Chateau had been settled nearly three thousand years ago and represented one of the oldest and most sacred areas on the planet. She marveled out loud, “How appropriate it is that such an ancient and sacred location is about to become the central communications hub for the grandest human experiment in history.”

  Abigail was looking forward to the event as well, but she found the flight to Prague restrictive and confining. She had always been able to teleport herself instantly wherever she chose throughout the universe. Being confined in a human body and having to sit in a confined space for close to fifteen hours was not what she considered a productive use of her time. She found the security precautions of the TSA agents particularly odd.

  That was because Abigail/Barbara was randomly selected for a full-body search while going through the TSA line. Abigail was so offended that she called for the TSA supervisor to protest. “I am an eighty-three-year-old great-grandmother. How could I possibly be a security threat? This is ridiculous. You are wasting taxpayer dollars that could be spent educating children.”
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  The hulking, overweight supervisor did not see her point. “Ma’am, that may be, but we have a job to do, and if you do not let us search you, you will not board your plane.”

  Abigail/Barbara looked at Eve. “Well, I really shouldn’t allow this. My brother-in-law is Daniel Ellsberg of the Pentagon Papers. He did not risk his career so people like you could abuse innocent citizens for no reason.”

  Alarmed, Eve intervened. “Now, Barbara, I have been searched before myself. It takes only a minute and I am sure they will be gentle and respectful. We do not want to miss this plane.”

  The supervisor smiled thinly. “Your friend is right. We will not harm you or touch you inappropriately, but if you do not submit to this search, you will not board the plane.”

  In the end, Abigail/Barbara did it mainly because she didn’t want to spoil Eve’s trip. “I will submit, but I am doing so under protest. We have important work to do in Prague or I would really make a scene. This is stupid and un-American, but go ahead and search me.”

  After the search Abigail/Barbara finally was allowed to pass through security. It was a good thing that Eve had insisted on arriving an hour early or they would have missed their plane.

  “Barbara, how do you allow yourself to be subjected to this intrusive searching and probing?” Abigail complained telepathically. “They must know this security has no real impact on preventing terrorism. I’ll bet its real purpose is to train the human masses to let go of their sense of autonomy and freedom.” Abigail seized upon that idea, because it rang so true to her. “In my opinion, the real reason these security precautions have been instituted by the 319 families is to start a process of psychological acceptance and a type of mind control that will enable them to continue to exploit the resources of the planet.”

  Abigail was amazed by other small details of human existence. She loved caffeine and was pleased to see Starbucks and other coffee chains wherever she went. In her own universe, consuming nutrients from living plants and animals was unnecessary. Everyone on her planet had learned from birth to just breathe in whatever energy they required from the air. Being in a human body and needing to eat three times a day was both inconvenient and cumbersome. Needing to evacuate the waste from those meals was even odder to her. At first she thought that coffee and chocolate would be all that might be necessary to maintain the physical body, but she soon learned, especially with coaxing from Barbara, that such a diet was impractical.

  Abigail’s fondness for chocolate enabled her to understand the human addictions to food and drink, and that in turn helped her to understand why Earth 769 was undergoing such a crisis. Every human being, from her perspective, was dependent upon food sources that required cruel and thoughtless behavior. Some humans, including Barbara, were primarily vegetarians and did not require the killing of mammals and fish, but for Abigail, even the consumption of a piece of fruit or a stalk of asparagus was an unsettling and barbaric practice.

  By the time Abigail/Barbara arrived in Prague, Abigail had adjusted to some of the basic protocols about food and was ready to attend the inaugural dinner at Chateau Mcely for Project Wake Up without making the type of involuntary grimaces that might give away her true identity.

  Jim sent a beautiful BMW sedan to pick up Eve and Abigail/ Barbara when they touched down in Prague. The castle was an hour’s drive from the airport, and once the hotel employees sent to pick them up had gathered their luggage, Eve and Abigail/Barbara were driven through a beautiful forest on their way to meeting the handpicked power brokers who were to join them for dinner later that evening.

  No sooner had the BMW arrived when smartly uniformed hotel employees appeared to help them with their bags. Eve and Abigail/ Barbara were ushered into the main drawing room, where bottles of champagne were being chilled and plates of caviar were waiting for them. Inéz introduced them to several of the other guests, including Arnold Wheeler, who, with champagne glass in hand, greeted them warmly. “I have heard so much about you, Barbara, and your good works. Please join me in a glass of champagne so I can toast your vision and commitment to creating a better world.”

  Pleased, Abigail/Barbara smiled, and she and Eve turned toward a waiter holding a tray of freshly poured flutes of champagne. Yet even before his toast to goodness in the world was complete, Barbara sensed a lack of sincerity in Arnold’s words. Abigail concurred. Telepathically she told Barbara, “We should watch out for that one.”

  Eve had never attended such an elegant reception and could not restrain herself from having third and fourth helpings of the caviar. She beamed to Barbara. “This must be what it is like to be royalty!”

  “Yes, it is nice to have the resources for the finer things in life,” Abigail/Barbara responded as she took in not just the table settings but the elegant chairs, drapes, and art on the walls of the drawing room.

  “Indeed it is,” confirmed Eve as she sipped her champagne. She was quite bubbly herself as she remarked, “Who would have ever imagined that little Eve from Des Moines would experience such luxury amid such noble and powerful people? Thank you so much, Barbara, for letting me be your assistant.”

  Seeing that Eve was being seduced by the luxury of her surroundings, Abigail/ Barbara cautioned, “Yes, luxury is wonderful in proper balance, but let us not forget why we are here.”

  “Of course not, Barbara,” Eve said, recovering. “It is just that all this elegance was so unexpected.”

  “If we are successful, I imagine that there will be many such receptions. Those with power are often addicted to luxury and wealth. There is nothing wrong, mind you, with enjoying the finest elements of life, but on some level this very enjoyment of the high life is related to the underlying problems we are trying to correct.”

  As Barbara took another sip of champagne, Abigail joined in her sentiment. “Yes, and for all this supposed luxury, they are not even serving chocolate.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A MOST ELEGANT MEAL

  EUGENE ONCE AGAIN CHOSE to eat with the staff in the kitchen prior to the banquet being served in the main dining room. Eugene was enjoying these trips to Mcely. He was given a guest room like any invited or paying guest, and he was treated with the same level of respect and care. He had often stayed in elegant hotels while with the Secret Service, and as Arnold Wheeler’s personal bodyguard all the hotels were luxury hotels, but somehow Chateau Mcely was special. Eugene could not put his finger on why it was different. The elegant bedsheets, the flowers, and the exquisite food were common at other luxury hotels, but the people at the Chateau had a dedication to service that was unique. They made you feel that they truly cared about you and that you were the most important person on the planet.

  During Eugene’s dinner, the chef’s eight-year-old son showed up in the kitchen with the chef’s wife. “Maurice, I am so sorry to bother you, but your sister is in labor and I must go immediately to the hospital. Can you or someone on the staff watch Stefan until I return?” she asked her husband.

  “I thought she was not due for another week,” the chef responded, more pleased than bothered by the unexpected news. “You go ahead. Stefan will be fine with us here in the kitchen.” Then, turning to his son, the chef asked, “Stefan, have you had dinner yet?”

  Delighted to be getting a chance to spend time with his dad during the dinner hour, Stefan ran to his dad’s side and shouted, “No, I have not eaten yet. Does that mean I get to eat with you this evening?”

  “Yes, you will be eating at this table, though we must eat right away.” With a simple motion the chef directed that a place at the large kitchen table be set for Stefan next to Eugene. Looking at him, the chef asked, “I hope you don’t mind if my son Stefan sits next to you for dinner?”

  “Not at all,” Eugene replied with a smile.

  “Splendid,” exclaimed the chef as he returned to the kitchen, and Stefan took his seat next to Eugene. Stefan had come from soccer practice and was still wearing his uniform, prompting Eugene to ask, “What position do y
ou play?”

  “I play goalie and also right wing. I love to run around, but my coach says the team needs me in goalie.”

  “I used to coach my daughter’s soccer team. Goalie is the most important position on the field. You must be very good to have been chosen to play goalie,” Eugene commented.

  “I am not sure about that,” Stefan responded while a plate of beef stroganoff was placed before him, “but scoring goals is more fun than stopping them. I am glad I get to play both positions.”

  “Yes, scoring goals is fun, but defense is actually the key to winning soccer games. You will understand this when you get older.”

  The boy sized up this new hotel guest. “Do you think after dinner we could practice? They have a soccer net in the park in front of the Chateau.”

  “If we finish early enough, we may be able to kick a ball or two. I would enjoy that, Stefan.”

  Stefan beamed at this idea. “So, can I take shots on you?”

  EVE WAS BESIDE HERSELF. She could not believe the aromas, the tastes, and the sheer beauty of the preparation of the food that she was being served. She had never seen so many waiters for a single table: six waiters for twelve diners. Whenever her wine glass was even partially emptied, it was immediately filled, and when a course ended, a new vintage would be served and a fresh glass poured. During the meat dish, which was venison stuffed with quail, Arnold Wheeler stood up and addressed Jim and Inéz. “I hope you are not offended, but I took the liberty of bringing four bottles of this 1945 Mouton Rothschild to share with you this evening. I think it will go well with the venison and quail, and if these bottles are as good as the ones we sampled in our cellar last week, I am sure you will all be pleased.”

  “What a rare treat,” Jim responded. “You really are too generous. I know my wines, and such a bottle would make a collector beam with delight. Thank you so much.”