Installment 8

"What about movies? Who has an answer to that one?"

It was Claude Bristol who spoke: "You don't really have a question. You want us to tell you the history of movies, how to write a script, how to promote one, how to hire artists and crews? What do you want?

"Sorry, my point was something I was curious about - that movies tend to run in your head for days after. Doesn't this get in the way of your dreams? Or is it another form of dreaming?"

Jose Silva spoke first, "The mind simply replays what it's been fed. You run through 'movies' all the time during the day. It's taking control over these movies, your dreams, that will allow you to succeed at what you want."

"But you have to get your 'wanting to control' out of the way," Lester Levenson picked up at first pause, "if you 'have' to control something, or are stuck on 'wanting to change' the past or the present, then it's self-defeating. You'll go nowhere."

That left me stopped, as they seemed to conflict. "I'm supposed to learn to control the movies running in my mind, but at the same time I have to not want to change. Is that some sort of Tao puzzle to figure out?"

"It's the middle road you seek, or not. Does it really matter what you are after, or is the journey more important?" Lao Tse interjected with a small smile.

"I don't think that helped me. I'm supposed to control and yet not control, supposed to succeed but only enjoy the process of success, not the end I'm looking for."

Several sages nodded, others smiled.

"Oh come on...."  I paused, but no one volunteered anything. Everyone waited.

"It's my question again, isn't it? That one was a statement. OK." Thinking this over, I then asked, "Now, how to I let go of wanting to change, wanting to control, all so I can simply enjoy it all?"

Lester again smiled and said, "By simply letting go."

"Just that easy."

"Of course. Your thinking is just a collection of old thoughts. Those are based on feelings. Feelings are based on wants, desires. All of those in turn are stuck on your wanting to survive as an individual. Some call this the fear of death."

"And I just have to let go?"

Silva again answered, "This is again just taking a deep breath and relaxing. As you talked to Charles, you just let the Silence show up. Then you can access your Sixth sense perceptics. It's not difficult at all. A little practice and you'll be accessing all sorts of data with no effort."

I was amused at these guys all talking almost on top of themselves with the same data in different contexts. "So you are all telling me, I just need to relax and enjoy the ride - that when I just let go of all the underlying desires and fears, any adverse reaction or bad feelings will go as well?"

Nods and smiles all around.

"All right then. Now we are getting somewhere. Cool."

- - - -

Dog and Cat were sitting there looking down at me as I opened my eyes.

"Well?" Cat spoke while Dog just smiled his toothy grin as his tail wagged the rest of him.

"Well what?" I asked as I sat up and stretched.

"So what do you think these days?"

"I think I'm happy to see both of you."

Cat leaned up against me and purred, Dog put its head in my lap and invited me to scratch behind its ears.

Love all around.

"Oh, but you are probably wondering if I'm going to stay here this time."

Cat looked into my eyes while Dog looked up while wrinkling his forehead to see better straight up.

Cat the turned away, and took a few steps in an indifferent way, pausing to lean against my foot and look back. "Well, it was more whether you had sorted out whatever it is that keeps you away."

"Oh, I see. You know, I was working on something since I was here. And it boils down to what to do with all these movies and dreams I've been having."

Dog sat up again and scratched behind his own ear with his foot. "Oh that - just your choice."

"How do you figure?"

"Well you know it all now, but you might not had time to put it together. Or at least it seems that way to me. Look:
    - Your thoughts make your dreams and your movies.
    - You can let go of the thoughts, but to get rid of them you have to let go of the feelings, the desires, and the fears you have.
    - And then you can do or be or think or have anything you want.
    - If you get a result you don't want, then simply let it go and create a new set."

My jaw was open, so I shut it. "That simple?"

"Just that simple."

"So why didn't you tell me that before?" 

Cat took this one. "Because you weren't ready."

"Until I ran into enough questions I couldn't answer on my own."

"Precisely. Welcome home."

"Thanks."

The cartoon-outlined clouds moved slowly across a near-uniform blue sky, while a smiling sun looked down. The grass slowly moved in some ripple like their older cousins, the prairies. The air was clean, Life was good.

"It's all just choice."

- - - -

All was white.

At least that's what it looked like.

The funny thing, I knew where I was and what was going on. Maybe for the first time, maybe for the first time in a long time.

No feature here. No problems, no choices - necessarily, anyway.

This might even be "the light" people are known to walk to when the permanently leave a dream.

All I really cared about is that I was at peace here and had no worries or even particular thoughts.

How long have I been here? No telling. Because there's no time here. No past - which are all memories and thoughts anyway. No future, which are all plans - more thoughts. As long as you simply let go of anything to do with thinking and so on, then it was just nice calm space where everything was perfect.

All white.

- - - -

"What's this stuff called time, then?"

Same old ocean like it had always been. Same old trees, same old shade. Same old birds riding the sea breezes and walking the beach looking for food.

Me and my kahuna-kapua.

"Time? That's just another joke we play on each other."

"How do you figure it's a joke?"

"Well, we know jokes are told to pass the time, or to change the Now, or to help someone with both - right?"

"Yea."

"And there the moment of power is Now, right?"

"True."

"So the past has no power, the future has no power, the only thing real is right Now."

"Yes."

"So time is a fiction and just something we can talk about, like the weather or how pretty this island is, or the sports we play."

"Oh, I see. A joke."

We both laughed at that until tears came from our eyes.

"Good one. So I can change the Now and help others change their Now, but that's about it."

"You are the author of your own Now. And as we are all connected, there is really no 'others' out there - just you and you  and you. And me and me and me - which are both the same. 'We' are 'Self'. You are your own audience, as I am."

"Now, that is a real stretch, but I can see your logic there."

"And so you know how the various versions of the 'Golden Rule' work."

"And so I can predict the future - but this means all around me has something to do with my own creation."

"So everything around you has something to do with the love you put into it. Love is: to be happy with."

"My unhappiness is all my own fault then?"

"True. Your native aspect is peace, joy, freedom - however you want to call it."

"And I assume that state by choice."

"Or not."

"Or not..."

- - - -

Next thing I knew, I was flat down on a gurney, strapped down and moving through the hospital halls with the overhead lights flashing in my face as they went by. 6 people in green gowns were hustling me through to Gawd-knows-where, all with masks on their faces and gloves on their hands.

"He's coming to."

"We're almost there."

"Do you think he knows?"

"Here we are."

With a bump and a clang, we went through double-open doors into a room with blazing lights. I could only move my head and shut my eyes. But someone grabbed my head while another strapped it down as well.

Another grabbed my arm and I felt the jab of an IV needle.

My bare feet felt cold until someone else put a heated blanket over me up to my chin, then another sheet covered that.

It looked like they only wanted to deal with my head.

Then a hand covered my head and opened one eye while a light flashed left and right to check dilation. Same with the other eye.

Suddenly, they all moved away.

A grinding noise started and got louder and some sort of heavy object seeming to be moving toward my head. I opened my mouth, but quickly, a rubber stopper was put in place.

Pulse racing, my breathing was rapid in and out my nose and the space on each side of my mouth.

As a shadow crossed my face, a warmth started spreading through my veins and a fog settled in.

The room darkened and then went black.

- - - -

It was a dark and stormy night.

Then someone said, "Joe, tell us a story."

So Joe began:

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

- - - -

The two Factors found themselves in a room. They were in their university tunics, just like the lab control room.

They were sitting opposite each other across a round white table, about 6 feet apart. Close enough to see each other clearly, but unable to touch.

Shocked, neither moved for a moment.

"You okay, Sue?"

"Sure - and you, Roger?"

"Just fine, I think."

"Where are we?"

"No way of telling."

"Are we dead?"

"Hard to tell. No one knows what happens in death."

Then I walked into the scene, dressed in my hospital gown, robe, and slippers.

"It's you!" they spoke almost simultaneously.

"Yup. Almost like old times."

"Wait, but we didn't, I mean it wasn't our idea -- "

"Oh forget about it. Nothing happened, anyway. It was all just another dream."

They were both confused.

"Well, I don't really have the time to bring  you up to speed." And I chuckled at my own joke, but they thought it was a little sinister, judging by how they reacted. "Look, I understand what you were doing and I forgive you. I don't hold it against you, because it was really my fault to begin with. And I'm glad to have gone through it."

Now they were really confused.

"Look - just know that it's all going to turn out just right. Just perfect. Whatever you do, it's fine. Really. I just wanted to meet you in person and tell you that I know everything you are doing and everything you did. And it's perfectly fine."

They relaxed at this, slightly. But were still really confused.

"Look, you don't have to say anything - and I have to send you back before long and set you back into your timeline, so I can't explain much to you or it won't fit anymore. Then you'll get a headache trying to fit it all in.

"I just have a couple of things to get across to you: First, it's all your choice, not someone else's. You aren't dependent on anything or anyone for your own choices. Second, life is a dream - and it's all dreams. I'm part of your dreams and you are part of mine. But it's reciprocal."

Blank stares.

"OK, look: the way you mess with others' dreams is how they'll mess with yours. You see?"

They both nodded, although I knew it would take time to really sink in.

So I let them both go.

- - - -

The Land Rover stopped in front of the ancient chapel in a cloud of dust. You'd think a rain-forest would be wet. But the packed trails dried up with the trees gone. And this area had been cleared centuries ago. The building was small and almost completely overgrown except for the windows and doors, but even then had thick surroundings of leafy cover and underlying vines.

Al wrestled himself out of the back seat to join us at the front. "The chapel was all that was left of a church and surrounding pueblo when the Spanish had attempted to settle this area in the 1500's."

"The legends say that they Spanish never were really able to control these people, calling them lazy, among other things. It was said that they didn't even make good slaves. The Spanish word for this area meant literally, 'Land of the Fools.' As they couldn't raise taxes or govern these people in any way, they simply pulled out. Only the church friars stayed on, but their conversion of the locals took far longer."

A brown-frocked priest of native ancestry came through the massive front doors to greet them. "Yes, and it was only really successful because the adults loved the Sunday School stories as much as the children. We couldn't get them to Mass, unless we told a parable in simple terms first. Hello, I'm Father Jorge'. But you can call me George."

"This is one of the earliest settlements of the Spanish, and is probably their oldest failure. Even the name of the place was lost in antiquity, probably because nobody wanted to be known as the "Church of the Fools.'"

Of course, this made Doreen and I look at each other, while Alphonse only smiled and shrugged. "But that isn't why this place is interesting to us. It's what's inside," he said.

Father George led us in to the tiny chapel. "This was once just a chapel, but was the only part of the original church that the natives - my ancestors - would help restore or maintain. And that was because this was always where the Sunday School lessons were held originally. As well, the locals decorated the pews and woodwork with their locally native rocks. Most of this wood is original to this building and so is hundreds of years old, yet as sturdy as the day it was built."

We looked over the pews and wainscoting to find that it was inlaid with thousands of tiny white stones. Those that were in the direct sunlight sparkled brilliantly as it came in the open doors.

"The legend of these stones is that they came from the sky, and the name literally means 'tears of God.' I'm no geologist, but those who have visited here have never been able to place this stone exactly, only saying that it had to be of meteorite origin, which would explain the name. How so many of them got here is anyone's guess."

Turning to the altar, the cross was almost entirely made of that same white stone, only separated by a thin gold and platinum setting. As I got closer, I could see it was made from the same wire as the amulet. While the base seemed to be native wood, it was so overlaid with stone, nothing was visible except the base.

"And you may find the story of this cross interesting. Originally, this cross was built up over the years by native craftsmen, who would add onto the original wooden cross every week over the years. And it eventually became so beautiful that the friars wanted to move it into the main sanctuary. The only problem is that when they did, something would break out there and the next day, the cross would be back. So they finally quit trying to move it.

"In fact, the legend says that when the Spanish withdrew, they tried to take the cross with them, and that was what caused the church to fall, along with the rest of the pueblo. Massive earthquakes which only shook the buildings and hurt no one. Well, it is said that who ever was carrying the cross got inexplicably bruised. And mules would not carry it beyond the village gates. So they put it back and had to settle with curses.

"The source of the gold and platinum has never been found. Eventually, the congregation dwindled and the arts of these craftsmen were lost. While there are some who continue to search for the gold and platinum, mostly this small chapel remains unknown. Some try to break in and steal, but they are never successful. We always leave the doors and windows unlocked. Locks always break, anyway. We only try to keep the rain out, not the people.

"While my father and his father and grandfather have continued in the tradition of priest, our main function is to tell the parables every Sabbath. Some are married here and our occasional visitors, such as yourselves, like to hear our stories, even though they never believe them. But that's OK, because we are all Fools here." Father George smiled at this, his little joke.

I pulled out the amulet to compare its settings with those of the pews and other woodwork.

As the father saw it, his eyes became wide as he crossed himself, muttering a prayer in a native dialect. "Well, for all my stories, you have one to tell yourself. This is the largest amulet of this type I have seen for some time. You know why you have it, I assume?"

Al butted in, "I'm sorry Father, but I haven't had time to tell him. Please forgive me." And he bowed his head to the priest, who made a gesture over his head.

"You are, of course, forgiven, Alphonse. And I thank you for your gift."

Curious about this Doreen broke her silence. "What gift, Al?"

The priest turned to her. "Why, you all are here. That is the greatest gift possible. Your beauty graces this humble chapel, as well as your wisdom. And you may ask me anything you want, for each of you has your own troubles to resolve."

Smiling more broadly, "But where are my manners? You are guests and it is close to lunch time. Today we have a fiesta in your honor!"

Leading out a side door, they were immediately surrounded by a huge outdoor garden, festooned with all manner of flowers, climbing vines on top of the high walls of the ruined Main Church proper. The chapel was on the left wing of the original transept, with a still-standing wall behind the original apse. Surprisingly, the ground was clear of all clutter within the church proper, as was the ground inside clear of vines and shrubbery. Only low grass grew within the original walls.

When I remarked on this to Father George, he replied, "We do allow flocks to graze here, which keep the shrubbery at bay, and the grass short. As for the stones, it is part of that old legend that the Church seemed to explode when it toppled, leaving most of the stonework outside. There are still some local families who can tell the story of an ancestor who was in the Church that day. It seemed the Spanish were holding the village inside this building and would not let them leave. So they prayed in their own native tongue (which also upset the Spanish) until the roof blew off and the sides toppled. At that point, the guards ran away and the villagers could simply walk out. That was really the end of the rule of these Spanish."

Doreen and I sat on one of the low stone benches which occasionally appeared along the walls. As the sunlight filtered through the high trees surrounding the ruins, we could hear children laughing nearby. Women with baskets on their heads entered from what was the original narthex entrance in single file and proceeded to split off to unload their goods, almost with a practiced ritual.

Those goods turned out to be various foods of many types, spread on colorful blankets, in patterns duplicated from their own multi-hued dresses. After the women, the men came, carrying spits of cooked goat and wild game which they then set up in the main aisle. Children raced in with garlands of cut flowers, some of which ended up around our necks, the others on the walls and benches, as well as everyone present, even the Father.

As the children gave away their garlands, they found their family spot and sat, all facing the apse, where the original altar stood - now only containing a large, rectangular, moss-covered stone. Here Father George stood with upraised hand.

The father gave a short prayer in native dialect and made the sign of the Cross, which all the people present returned.

At that, a large shout went up and musicians began playing native tunes, lively and with a practiced ease.

"One thing the village is noted for, quite in addition to our chapel, is our tradition of celebrating and giving thanks - almost for anything and everything. God has blessed this region and we hope to return the favor by showing our gratitude for our continuing good health and prosperity."

"It's the good health thing that I think you'll be interested in," whispered Al in my ear. He was immediately joined by two young local women who plied him with fruit and meat, as well as various breads and cheeses - all downed with local wines and liqueurs.

We were similarly besieged with this native hospitality, and it wasn't long before we were all merrily being taught native versions of Spanish songs which were all followed with eating or drinking something.

This continued well past night, when they put torches in ancient holders built into the walls. The last I remember is laying back against the stone wall with its fragrant flowers and trying to remember if I was supposed to eat or drink at the end of the next chorus, while not particularly caring...

- - - -

Now the control room had been expanded out to it's original size, which held several banks of equipment monitors in rows, much like a NASA control room. They all faced a round center stage, which worked as a holographic projection system, capable of reproducing the dreams of any subject. Even as technicians worked to cross-connect various terminals and power couplings, the Prefect was going over the final briefing and assignments for the team of grad students and technicians he had assembled from across campus and nearby cities.

"I don't know what his budget is for this, but he's had to pull some massive strings to get this set up." Sue was talking quietly to Roger on the outside edge of this group. "Wonder what the Old Man has lined up for us..."

"...and Factor 1 and 2 will be assisting me directly, since they are most familiar with this particular case. Alright, you all know your duties, and it looks like they are all online now. To your stations!"

Seeing our faces as the crowd thinned, he motioned us forward. "We'll be up there. You each have a station next to my seat. Roger, you have the one on my right." Then he smiled at Sue briefly before directing his attention to the crew.

"Director! Get me a status report!" The teams sounded off as they logged in and the monitors came on-line, bathing them in an eerie glow. All had headsets and microphones, making the room look more like a rocket launch.

As the final reports came in, the Prefect made his way up to his top-level bank of monitors, which were already operating. Roger and Sue took their assigned positions, and found that they nearly had a duplicate of the Prefect's screens, only in much smaller scale. Their stations were slightly lower and to the front of the Prefects, so that he could watch their screens directly over his own console.

Finally, the hubbub from the banks of technicians quieted and the center stage began glowing. On a cue from the Prefect, massive relays thudded in the background and the stage began to glow and movements could be seen taking place. The Prefect spoke into his mike and various teams started adjusting dials and typing commands into their console keyboards.

The forms and shapes began to form distinct edges. Jitters started to disappear and we began to see a view of a person walking. While this was disorienting at first, the gyro-stabilizer functions kicked in to make it as smooth as if it were filmed with a gyro-stabilized handheld steadicam.

The scene from the eyes of the subject could be seen easily, with complete 3D.

But what was interesting is that we were looking at the actual thoughts of the subject in real time, as filtered through a time-delay to allow for jumps and the relative speed of thought compared to much slower visual acuity of our eyes.

On each side, top, and bottom were smaller virtual screens which represented additional lines of thought, or incomplete processes which the subject might move back to at any moment.

"Of course, we mostly track just the main line of thought, similar to what you saw on your individual consoles. Computers are able to make the shift near seamless for most subjects. Of course, the truly psychotic and schizo-phrenic will move so quickly to various segmented thought that it becomes too quick for anything but a supercomputer mainframe to keep up with - and the results of their treatment can only be done under medicated conditions. This slows down the thought processes so that therapists can assist them to untangle their thought patterns." The Prefect was in lecture mode, not to be interrupted. Most everyone in the room was familiar with these basics, but the majority had not seen a 3D set up of this size before.

"This control room had been retired years ago as micro-computer technology matured along with our sub-routine algorithms, so that we were able to treat most of our subjects with a single operator working in shifts, at most a team of two for severe cases." The Prefect was really warming now, and we could follow the paces of the dream-world of the subject as he shifted rapidly in his thought processes. Far better than a room full of students and a chalkboard or overhead projector.

"That said, we are called here today to attempt something which has never been tried before. We have a truly amazing subject who is completely sane by all standards, but is resisting all efforts to modify his dream-worlds. So we have broken out the subroutines and assigned them each to stations and teams. This particular subject, as you can see, is capable of near simultaneous parallel thought-patterns. This means he can move to another dream before we can effectively execute our treatment."

"Note that we currently have him locked down into a small handful of dream sequences. However, our locks still do not hold long enough to implement any treatment. The interesting point to this, from a sheerly clinical aspect, is that for all intents and purposes, this person is entirely sane and able to live a normal life. This was the original basis of this study - to see if we could map out these dreaming abilities and reproduce them in others. Unfortunately, our mapping programs are again too slow to keep up."

"This - is the Anomaly, as we cal him. Unfortunately, we have been required to sedate him while we established this team. You can see that on many levels, this chemical - one of the strongest sedatives short of an induced coma that we are legally allowed to use - still isn't having any effect." Sue and Roger glanced at each other, knowing this not to be the entire truth, but they held silent.

"Our job is to maintain both locks and mapping programs as we bring him slowly back out of the sedative and its effects. First is to get our basic subroutines running at speed, much faster than they've been required to operate before. This is your first priority. We've been given priority access to our supercomputer trunk in order to process this data - again, something never authorized before on this magnitude. So realize the unique opportunity you've been given."

"And don't screw it up."

With that, the Prefect sat down and placed his own earphones and microphone in place. He then went through each of the sub-stations in sequence, giving specific instructions and pointers to look out for. Most of these were redundant, as the weaknesses of these subroutines were well-known. His point was to make a record of what was to be improved, and to take advantage of the hyper-speed this team was now operating at to facilitate these improvements. The iteration turnover rate itself would be an advantage, since multiple test scenarios could be run in hyper-time, while the main program was running in real-time. This meant we could have vast improvements in minutes, which would take days on a regular scale. As well, since the subroutines were split out each to its own team, we were probably going to make a quantum-leap in improvement over the earlier programming.

Now it became obvious to Sue and Roger how the Prefect got his funding. Free graduate students, and technicians on loan from the Corporation. Sue looked over the teams and found that they all had at least one Corporation technicians teamed with one or two or more grad students. Cheap labor, vastly improved product. Mostly at government expense, with private profit.

As the Prefect went through each team, Roger and Sue's monitors tracked these changes. They were seeing whatever the Prefect has his attention on. A separate screen showed the private coding library of the Prefect, so that the code snippets would be available to both Sue and Roger for use in upgrading any particular subroutine the Prefect had his attention on.

Sue's job was to record all changes and monitor those recording systems. Roger's innate ability to produce high-speed code were going to be tested, so he was also getting familiar with all the private code the Prefect had made available. Sue had also made a copy of this, so that any changes would be noted and backups were always available to any earlier iteration.

All the stations had been checked with and were already busy running test cases on their code improvements. Most noted a large increase in efficiency already. While Sue and Roger were busy just ensuring all the systems were set up correctly, the Prefect was sitting back in his chair watching the efficiency numbers rise.

Once he was satisfied that he coding had plateaued, he then sat forward and started the process of bringing the subject down from his chemically altered state slowly. Just so that each subroutine would come on line through their tests. These locks and mapping sequences needed to hold as they brought him back up and out to the real world.

Sue also noted in this process, that there were no back-up teams scheduled on the roster. It looked to her that this team was going to be here for the long haul. And so even the deep pockets of the Corporation couldn't lease the entire resources of a supercomputer indefinitely. This was a moon shot.