VORES HEMMELIGHED 2: Hav Af Din Sorg
By Clara and Knyaz
The song of this world
will devastate you
one way or the other.
For if it is not sad,
then it ends.
Vo vsem ishi litso Otsa.
Mi v temnote yeshe ne do kontsa!
Book 1 by Samuel of Salem:
SHADOWS AND SMOKE
My Consolation
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Book 2 by Samuel of Salem:
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
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Book 3 by Samuel of Salem:
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
The Daffodil Of Hammersmith
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Book 4 by Samuel of Salem:
EMERALD FILAMENT
Loyalty. Honor. Service
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Dove of Peace, my beautiful Dove,
Happiness is obedience
To the one you love.
But to drink and experience love
Only those will come
Who have suffered enough.
Misty Shield / Brennes Warm
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THIS CHANNEL IS FOR THOSE
WHO HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH
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There is no “death”. It’s Awakening.
There is no sin. It’s ego-disease.
There is no punishment. It’s healing.
There is no “karma”. Karma is but how badly you want to experience pain.
We are not God’s “playthings”.
We are His Beloved Child that fell asleep, and needs to be Awakened to the Truth.
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THIS CHANNEL IS FOR THOSE
WHO HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH
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via Eridani Industries/ MORETR ENTERPRISES “5 Minutes To Revelation”, Stelarius-On-The-Sea, Silver Passion planet, Datro Grehedi Constellation (Leot’s Crown Constellation), Andromeda Federation
With the support of
Time Paradox & Seashell Effect Of PELARGONIUM CONSORTIUM, Nasarat City, Silver Passion planet, Datro Grehedi Constellation, AF
Black Hexagon of United Wells Broadcasting under the aegis of Brennes Warm Corporation, Arzadellin City, United Wells Territories, Arzadellin planet, Leot’s Constellation, AF
United Hermit Channels Of Parallax* Broadcasting & Archives, Pleiades, MW
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* “Parallax City” was the name Leot gave the capital of Young Blue Stars realm when a Communication Deal between Andromeda Federation and YBS was reached. He was mocking the Hermit Channel way of life of YBS, because, obviously, they were openly trying to reach out to Level 99, and that rubbed the man the wrong way. {citation En Gang Imellem ARCHIVES under the aegis of Pelargonium Consortium}
My notes: The true name of the city is:
“We Have Built A Stairway To Heaven, And We Can Show You Every step.”
Easily translated via ortosezeris (thanks God we have it to translate just about any notion into just about any brain across pretty much all levels):
Dorilin Datarmira Dramaratan
YBS was not the one to argue, or get into a fight over an insult. But I remember YBS leader Messir Hart responding in his own entertaining way that their Hermits may only have two eyes. Leot, however, has a 360 degrees worth of eyes, and he still can’t see God. I found that to be both fitting and hilarious.
Allied Level 90 AE (Advanced Entities)
BROADCASTING & ARCHIVES
Under The Aegis Of Lierance
Lira planet, via Arkchil Network
Protostar Group Of Conflagrance City Broadcasting & Archives, Mesmerix planet, Kloritahan System, Lar-Mur, AF
Black Hexagon of St. Merelion Of Lar-Mur Broadcasting & Archives via Arkchil Network, Mesmerix planet, Kloritahan System, Lar-Mur, AF:
“Our gratitude to the community of Greater Virgo Cluster {music: Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”} for helping us through this bloody and unnecessary civil war. May God finally Awaken us all from this incredibly painful dream.”
Spike Pressured Mantle
Broadcasting & Archives
via BEGREBS OF AHIKILIM
OF ALGORITHMIC PATHWORK
BROADCASTING
by Pelargonium Consortium
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
“And even as you’re weak, and thin.
You can’t give in to the machine.”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
“Think of your next step. What is your next step?”
“Chemical friggin’ Cats”
I can’t stop watching this show!
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
“I do not want to be a martyr. Can I just be a hero?”
“Heroes ARE martyrs, Sheba.”
Last night, Jim and me, both drunk.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
“There are no unlucky people, only the impatient ones.”
From Jim Kellspell’s lecture
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER
“Lay low, and observe.”
Cat’s Codex
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AS PER EVACUATION ORDER OF 6LS20
CHAPTER 118 is the last one here.
New Season 5
“HERE COMES MY MARTYRDOM”
Begins with
Chapter 119
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 118
“The task is to re-install the REAL boundaries and erase the FALSE ones.”
From Uri Kumlatov’s GENERAL PUBLIC lecture.
Terminology that Commander Kumlatov told us ALL to learn:
REAL BOUNDARIES:
FALSE BOUNDARIES:
The machine will force you to defend something that was never yours to claim - a great opportunity to receive a lot of pain.
“Now, because such postulates can be applied to so many situations incorrectly, they get twisted, misunderstood and subsequently discarded. As we see it happening with the Grehedis...” Kumlatov stopped talking and froze, his eyes inexorably drawn to his left parallel interface (analog of our “looking at the past with our inner eye), probably going back to the massacre on Monolith.
“Commander, with all due respect, please get out of the painful stream of memories.” James said and tightened up his lips.
Self-destructive behaviour is strictly prohibited for ALL OF US, but, obviously, James was the only one with balls to challenge the teacher, AND be ready to take heat for it. But sometimes the man’s gotta do what the man’s gotta do.
“Why?” Kumlatov growled, and his heavy glance met Jim’s. I shuddered inside.
“Because we are here to debunk every ego-protocol, that’s why, Commander.”
“Do you know that there were very few Dachurovs on Monolith? Most of the settlers were of Kumlatov Branch. I lost everyone I ever cared about, James. The Grehedis did it to me. They twisted every protocol Arzadellin ever gave Leot.”
Yeah, namely Gina Yasmin. First, she offed the Monolith project, and then she went ahead and executed her Arkabin son, who started the Monolith project.
These are the chronicles of crimes attributed to a terroristic organization called “Liberation Front”, whose leader was Empress Gina Yasmin Of Leot. Whose Grehedi son is our channeling member and host Prince Moretr. Talking about childhood trauma.
On the other side - Moretr’s Sheiredi wife, their first recorded half-blood daughter, and their whole Kumlatov Branch.
It would not be the first time Uri interrupted his own lecture to slide down all the way to the river bend of utmost grief and blame.
Talking about de-bunking the ego-protocols. We are ALL neck high in them.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 117
”Stay invisible in your appearance and behavior. Less seen - less hurt.”
From “Cat’s Codex”, “Chemical Cats Show”
Yes, I have been watching this show. “Chemical Cats, MEOL, MC17)
Yes, the show has to make sense. Even to a cat.
And yes, they are going to place us on the same planet with those dumb cats with degrees in chemistry.
Eager to study other cultures, James has already started corresponding with one of them, using Periodic Table Of Elements as the indisputable common ground, and even talked him into having sex upon our arrival on MEOL.
How do you say “I want to have sex with you” only using chemistry terms? “I will sizzle in you like lithium in H2O”? Honestly, Jim is an endless source of all things unconventional. Here is to a man with absolutely no frigging boundaries.
Henry, however, did not appreciate the cool twist, and angrily put a kabash on the promising relationship (catlike little Jims? Jimlike little cats?).
Until the producers smelled avenues of revenues and raised funds to pay Henry so we all could watch James fuck a large, highly intelligent CAT.
I still have not figured out what my attitude to this shall be.
The amount of money Henry got paid for letting James proceed with his insane enterprise is obscene. My share is 20%.
I could make even more money if I learned to report only what Lord Carlton likes to hear, and shut my pie hole about the rest.
I could make more money if only I could learn to sell out James in cold blood, like Lord Carlton.
What is it? Stifled moans. It is my consciousness taking its last breath. It was killed by Lord Carlton’s logic.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 116
‘You are protected - not easy to grab.
I am your shell, you are my crab!’
James to Henry...
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 115
All these hearts on the table
to unlock
And the moon is getting smaller
As we talk
So, I wrote that to James about a week ago.
But he was not talking to me at that moment. He was placating the conceited Henry in the backyard, in the moonlight.
Drama queen Carlton jumped out of bed, apparently, in the middle of sex, and ran out. Jim followed him. I was awakened by the kerfuffle.
Later I found out that these two cats fussed so loudly in the middle of the night, that I was not the only one awakened.
I got up, watched Jim drop to his knees in the moonlight in front of Carlton, and felt SO WRONGED for Jim’s efforts to unlock this icy heart, and getting hurt for it!!
So, clearly, they did not have a better partner for a worthy man like James! I honestly have not known a more dishonest, deplorable individual than Henry Carlton! So much for his royal blood.
Sinking deeper and deeper into my depression, I did not notice Mr. Rubinstein.
Possibly knowing that I might be in exactly this mood watching James getting humiliated, Leonard crept up to our unit with a bottle of Canadian whiskey to keep me company and to watch the show, I guess.
Why? Why is James being treated so disrespectfully? I drank and I cried as Henry slapped Jim, and Jim groveled at Henry’s feet. In the grass. In the moonlight.
If Jim can find a way to unlock Henry’s heart, then the Andromedans will receive a solid algorithm to help unlock all similarly frozen hearts, and begin the reverse of the expansion of the Universe. That, I know.
Jim’s sacrifice goes deeply, Mr. Rubinstein noted just for the record, as he drank whiskey straight from the bottle behind me. This project is nine hundred million years in the making, he whispered into the back of my neck.
Sure, I retorted, if Carlton-Kellspell connection works out, millions of other hearts could be helped out of internal cold and darkness Lord Carlton suffers from... I heard it all before.
But why, of all people, MY JIM is on the cross? Surely, there are plenty of other homosexually minded gentlemen, willing to help Lord Carlton out of his dire psychological issues.
“Krista signed up for Martyrdom.” Leonard reminded me.
Yes, but does it need to be SO PAINFUL? Wait, what? “Krista”?!
Now drunk, i totally forgot about Henry as a metaphor for a cross, and wanted to argue about why Mr. Rubinstein insists on calling Jim by his female avatar nickname.
I wanted to say - see, Jim has accepted me as a woman, why can’t you accept that Krista likes her male avatar better?
But then I remembered that it was not the time to fight.
It was time to love.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 114: Flerovium
“I am determined to finish this school magna cum laude, Sheba! When your love is five hundred million... “ Jim stumbled and swallowed hard, his eyes quickly filling with tears.
“Five hundred million miles?” I suggested carefully.
“Five hundred million DOLLARS away from you, there is no time to turn chicken!”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 113
“Standing out in the jungle is death.
What survives in the jungle? It’s stealth!’
“SSC-P Chemical Cats Show”
So, I got hooked on the dumb show. I especially love watching when the cats unpack gifts from the viewers. Hilarious.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 112
Grace is White, Mercy is Blue
“Be a boomerang, not an arrow.”
“What is that supposed to mean, James?”
“It means, my dear Sheba, that you ALWAYS come back to the One Who sent you, as opposed to getting stuck in your target.”
“So much for that philosophy, James. You got stuck in Henry.”
“No, Henry is stuck in me, and we are all flying BACK HOME as we speak!”
From our conversation the other day.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 111
Four Blue Lilies
“Stealth and camouflage:
Stay invisible with your stash!”
The motto of SSC-P Cats, from “Chemical Cats in Pursuit Of Projects And Ideas.”
“Oh, long and shady bromeliads!”
Cat for “My goodness”
Same show, by Eridani Industries {SSC-P - Severely Short Circuited - Programming}
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 110
Possessed by Henry Carlton
A zealot is the one who weaves a bridge across the river from nothing but a thread of his own faith.
“We will pay you to shut up.”
“No!”
“Then scream for free.”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 109 / in progress
WINTER MEMORANDUM
ADDENDUM I
“The Final Outcome will be much more favorable than you believe.”
From a message to James from Prince Moretr. James really needed that message!
“Lord Henry Carlton: A Man With A Plan”
Does that sound like a cool name? I may be writing about that.
Henry may be all the negative things that I mentioned. But he has a plan, and I do not. My sore ass is at a loss, and “I let James push me around”.
Lord Carlton, on the other hand, always has a plan.
Most of the time his plan is to ride James into the sunset, and drain him mentally, emotionally, physically and financially in the most disgraceful of ways.
The closest to a plan I ever had was to comfort James and shame Lord Carlton.
Ok, enough of being Lord Henry Carlton’s faithful biographer.
I have to channel more of Winter Memorandum from Commander Kumlatov, who is channeling Utolika the Elder, who is channeling the rest of the honorable totem pole of Grehedi ancestors.
And why not? Just their OFFICIALLY RECORDED history contains nine hundred million years worth of... I do not want to say “evolution”, for they are not evolving but running in intricate circles... So, their history contains nine hundred million years worth of running in intensely captivating circles, times the population of 2/3 of Andromeda Galaxy.
That is a hell of a totem pole.
Anyway, here is from Commander Kumlatov, most of whose relatives were killed in a genocide unleashed by Prince Moretr’s mother, Empress Gina Yasmin.
And then Prince Moretr’s father, venerable and beloved Sardonyx Eridani, forever tormented over what happened during Anlor Games in the United Wells Territories, started “5 Minutes to Revelation” newschannel to give voice to those oppressed, on which we will be tonight for sure.
Because yesterday during tactical training at school Jim passed a battery of crucial tests on fidelity, and he passed them all with flying colors.
I mean, even despite the fact that his alcohol-fueled behaviour has been listing to starboard, complete with a complaint from Mr. August, accusing Jim of breaking into his house to watch him make love to his spouse.
What am I witnessing? Jim is incorrigible. He confessed to breaking into Dr. Michael’s house, but not to Mr. August’s. This man is basically unrepentant. What insanity pushed me to tie a knot with a career criminal?
Truth be told, Henry is also in that complaint, standing accused of being a co-conspirator.
Note from the editor: Henry was not a co-conspirator in the break-in case, but Mr. August was determined to make revenge to Henry for charging him three million dollars for “a stairway to Heaven he could not use anyway.”
Even tormented with more dirt on Jim than I could take, this is where I fell down laughing.
Mr. August is overweight. Get it? He could not use Stairway To Heaven. Too fat to get on it.
Ohh... Why do I keep on getting distracted on these incredibly moronic events? Who cares about Mr. August?! I thought Jim was done with his criminal career! I guess, Henry is right, I AM GULLIBLE, and Jim twists my mind any way he wants.
Since I arrived, James and Henry were caught doing so much immoral and illegal stuff, that I lost count. All the while Kellspell is telling me how all his inappropriate behaviour is in the past, and he is being a good boy now.
And then he breaks into a man’s house to indulge in his sick voyeurism!
For the record: THE ONLY REASON I FOUND that OUT was because Jim’s victim showed up to give what for TO HENRY.
How did I find myself with these hooligans?
Ok! Let’s work! No more distraction.
Wait, who is this in the backyard?
No! I will not get distracted on a newcomer, possibly another victim of both of my criminally-minded mates!
Signs of DeVo: Your attention span shortens to that of a dog. It starts with small things, friends. It starts when you lose trust in the man you love! Fucking James... what a liar. I can’t believe I was duped like that... And here I thought I knew everything about him.
So, Carlton was right. I’m such an idiot...
All right, all right. Here we go.
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 109/for the record
WINTER MEMORANDUM
ADDENDUM 1
I The Face of God is hidden behind shreds of paper with incorrect statements written on them.
These statements/“Sigils” become powerful for you when you charge them with your belief (also Father’s potion, more on that later).
Check every statement you ever believed in to make sure that it is not the statement that prevents you from seeing the Face of Father TODAY.
II Ego-program needs TIME to create and maintain the Sigils that will keep you in the dark and cold.
You are helping it to keep you in the dark and cold by providing time to create and maintain the Sigils (“do activities”) that keep you in the dark and cold.
Make sure you are aware what you are spending every hour of your day on. What activities your time is dedicated to? Why? Every day you plant the seeds of tomorrow by being accountable to yourself about your time.
III You ARE going to feel stupid, if you take the advice of the stupid.
The machine is ignorant, narrow-minded, mean-spirited and out of step with reality. I know you are in pain, but come to ME, not the dictaphone, for solace and advice.
You need an EXPLANATION as to why you were hurt, and only I can tell you what is REALLY going on.
IV
V
VI
I found someone... To take away my loneliness... Maybe, I found someone...
Getting ready for a date. NOT with James! Enough is enough! I found someone! You know why? Because today it was my job to watch a closed-circuited hearing at Jim’s school, based on the complaint by Mr. August!
But you know where Kellspell was? I can tell you he was not in the courtroom. He escaped from the detention and was gone. So was Carlton. AND Hafnian!
Wherever they went, they did not invite me. That was the last friggin’ straw.
Screw the hearing. I called someone, and he said YES! After so many no’s, after so much that separated us, HE SAID YES!
Oh-la-la-la, I found someone! While everyone was gone,
I ditched the hearing,
I bleached my hair again,
and I put on the same long leather coat that I had on when we saw each other last...
Maybe he will remember how good it was, and give me another chance!
Do these earrings match my blouse? Let’s color-coordinate my nails and my high-heeled shoes!
Who is this? Is this my David? No, wait. Sun in my eyes. This guy is much bigger than David.
The door slides open.
“Is Krista there?”
Look at him! Another one!
“His name is James, Mr. Milgram!”
“U-huh” Milgram can barely stand. Whew! Alcohol and cigarettes! Don’t breathe in my face! “And what’s yours?”
Oh, is it because I am in drag? You think we ALL here have “homosexual agenda”, right? Screw you and your attitude.
What is this in his hand? Some black and sparkly fabric.
“You live on the second floor!” With that I shut the door on him, as he mouthed:
“That’s a strange name!”
I went on with my makeup, but unbearable Milgram opened the door again.
“Tell JAMES to put this on and meet me in my apartment.” With that Milgram threw the black garment on the bed. It turned out to be an evening dress. “She better be there.”
“What, did you win the lottery to pay Henry?”
“No, I surrendered to Lady Lion.”
Oh, the next best thing.
Next morning. Is it? Is it morning? Evening? For I no longer know what is going on!
As i was entering Jim’s bedroom to introduce David, and ask my beta what will it take for my man to stay with us, Lord Carlton was walking in the same direction HAND IN HAND with some other tall, bearded guy.
“Henry!” I exploded, for no one was supposed to catch me and David together until Jim had approved it.
“Remember, Sheba, you are WORKING FOR ME!” Carlton hissed in my face as he pushed the tall man ahead of himself, through the doorway and into Jim’s bedroom.
Then Carlton made sure he closed the door behind himself. Right in front of my nose.
“What the fuck!” I felt like he punched me in the face.
Henry can be such a villain sometimes.
“You broke the rules.” David noted. “by sneaking in a man.”
“You might think that, but what you just witnessed was typical Lord Carlton! THIS is what I told you about! THIS is what I have to deal with on a regular basis!”
“But you did break the rules.”
“Good offense is the best defense, David! He broke the rules, too! Who is this guy, eh? Why were they holding hands? And now he will have a chance to talk to Jim first, straighten out HIS ISSUE, and tattle-tale on me!”
“Shhh... Sheba...” David brought me close to himself, and it felt good. But I knew it was not because he loved me, but because he sold himself to me for a place on Strobulus for him and his family. His STRAIGHT family.
If it was not for my, now, high position with the Prophet, what would David want to do with a drag queen?
“Let’s go into the bedroom, and see how bad it really is, shall we?”
Ok, let’s.
“Shhh-Sheba”? That felt funny. And comforting. I need it! I really need someone to comfort me while I wipe Jim’s tears. This has been a stressful year. I was there for James and Henry, but there was nobody there for me!
And if Carlton starts with me once we are in the bedroom, I will fucking walk off the set.
“Apparently, yes! I’ve got needs that have to be met by more than one servant, James!”
Here we go. A cat fight. Carlton needs more than one servant! Smack that fat cat with a newspaper!
I grabbed David by his hand and squeezed it tight. Please, hold me from attacking THE INFURIATING Carlton. Please...
“Why would not he submit an application, like everyone else, Henry?” James pressed on in a very unusual, hardliner way.
“He did that! You gave his application one look and threw it away! You, then, stonewalled the issue when I asked you why, and went to feed your teacher! I have needs! And you don’t care!”
Henry has needs! He is the only one who has needs, and he needs ten servants to take care of all his needs!
“I’ve got tinnitus, and my eyesight is giving out! I am growing old, and nobody cares!”
Carlton shut up for a second, long enough to stare me down in horrified disdain, as in “you 5”6 cockroach, you can talk? And you dare express your opinion?”
“THIS is what I face every day, David.” I was going to cry right in front of everyone, when I heard Jim’s voice. It was so far away that I wondered if I just flew into space.
“Sheba!” I felt David lift me off the floor and place me on the bed.
“Great theatrics! You learn fast!” That was Henry, of course.
And then, through all the kerfuffle, noise, pain, there was my main mate’s voice.
“My Prince! I need your help. U-huh, thank you on that. I passed the tests, but now I’ve got a case against me, thanks to Mr. August... Yes. I do not know how we can “make it go away” with the school. I admitted to breaking into his house on record. Yes, it was stupid, but August was on to Henry, and I felt that I did not have a choice.
Well, anyway, my Prince, the reason I’m calling is both of my omegas went into heat at the same time, and guess what... They both boycotted me, and brought in other partners! What do I do? They are ALL screaming at each other in my bedroom!! What a pandemonium!
Oh, Sheba just collapsed! Can you place her on the bed? Thank you, Mr. Reddington. Henry, such questions can’t be decided here. Sheba, I have no authority to increase our Uret team by two people! I could not get a hold of my venerated Aunt Demetra, so I am on the horn with the Andromedan producers now!
U-huh... Yes, my Prince. I had no idea there was so much pent-up anger. Gentlemen, will you please stop yelling at each other!!
Do what, my Prince? Make them all tea? Got it. Check their cards? I can tell you that Sheba reeled in an Alpha. I know him, he was our mediator with the MEOL Parliament in episode 99 or so. Yes, clearly a strong Alpha. An excellent negotiator, too. And Henry came with the gentleman who stole my ex-boyfriend, and kept on lowering his eyes.
U-huh. Wallace Smith, yep. Ask for his omega card, got it. Get them logged in? Really? Are they going to live with us? Or is it just for now? Ah, I see! Ok, let me process the omega, and I will call you back.”
Into the Royal Chambers:
“Mr. Merritt, I will need tea for five people, and beer for my teacher.”
Then, turning to Henry.
“Would you please bring your chosen gentleman here for me to check him in. Yes, thank you. {looking at the card} Mr. Wallace Smith, welcome. It is, indeed, a small world. Almost twenty years ago my ex left me for a Wallace Smith. Now we are going to share a mate. Again. You are quiet and soft-spoken. And Henry likes it rough. So, what gives, Mr. Smith?”
Right about here Mr. Rubinstein was alerted to the brouhaha, ushered everyone out of our bedroom, and into the backyard.
Then the interview continued.
I was the only one left in the room, because I am Jim’s Arkchil Channel operator.
Mr. Smith opened his mouth to answer, when Henry burst back in.
I MEAN, YES, OBVIOUSLY.
“You are to process him quickly, and you are to approve him TODAY! Enough is enough, James! You have already turned down his application once. If you disappoint me again, James...!!!”
Maybe, this is not the pressure Jim could appreciate right now. The steel in his voice was his beta pulling the rank on his omega. He was clearly giving in to stress.
“As you might know, Henry, this morning my teacher’s IQ dropped to 27. His DeVo is officially complete.”
“So what? Why are you telling me this? Hafnian is YOUR responsibility!”
The steel in Jim’s voice intensified:
“That’s why I am telling this to you, Henry. This man identifies as omega. There is ONLY THIS MANY OMEGAS I can be held responsible for! I am interviewing him to see if I can handle him! Had you brought in an ALPHA, that Alpha would be interviewing ME!”
“Allright, James, just for talking back, you are not going to drink tonight. See how you like it!”
“Henry, come on!”
Whoooshhh... Carlton slams the sliding door shut and storms off. Kyle is seen rushing out of the Royal Chambers after him with a sweater! God forbid his beloved Lord Carlton feels the breeze!
It is, indeed, chilly outside. Much colder than last night.
Oh, about last night. So, Isaak Milgram got to fuck his “Krista”. Now that he has finally joined us, he gets to choose his “benefits package”. He chose “Krista” as his “benefits package”.
So, get this, yesterday Jim was ordered into Isaak Milgram’s apartment in his female avatar, that he hates.
I asked Jim later how was it, and found out that Milgram was “dry wood”. Among Russian prostitutes this slang expression means “fucks you to death because he is too drunk to come”.
Don’t ask me who taught him that.
Ok, I will tell you. I can’t keep any more secrets.
His mother taught him that. Jim’s mother was an engineer by day and a prostitute by night. She served the French Embassy. I kid you not. I saw it in his Arkchil record.
I got distracted. I mean, i knew that Milgram was drunk, I smelled it on his breath when he showed up with the dress, but then you imagine having sex with a drunk, and it’s like... get away from me with your dragon breath!
But Jim was VERY HAPPY when he came back, still in that ridiculous sparkly night dress. And he is not a cross-dresser. He hates women’s clothes.
I have been trying to figure that fucker out for a year and four months now.
It has been a weird year...
I am still at ground zero.
Darned poem-weaving app! For the love of God, how do I get so stuck down that memory lane?
James often says that they will never find him walking down from the Memory Lane to “Nostalgia” street. He is a lucky man. I am there every day.
Back to the interview. Did I get distracted from being distracted?
What did I miss? Jeez, attention span! Talking about creeping DeVo!
“And how often do you find yourself thinking about suicide, Mr. Smith?”
What? Some chronicler I am! Totally spaced out! Why is he talking about suicide?!
“Never, Mr. Kellspell.”
“I will be asking more uncomfortable questions, Mr. Smith, please answer quickly.”
Smith nods, his eyes are dark-brown, tired, staring at the table in front of him.
WHERE ARE WE? While I was deep inside of me, Jim moved us onto a small empty room with a table in the middle. Wallace Smith was sitting at that table, while James was standing in front of him.
“What feelings do you have for Lord Henry Carlton?”
“A lot of warmth. Gratitude.”
“Are you married?”
Pause.
“Please, answer my questions quickly, sir. Every hesitation will attract my attention to the fact that you may not be telling me the truth. And I WILL seek your mind there.”
“Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you live?”
“Sydney, Australia.”
“When was the last time you had sex with Lord Henry Carlton?”
Pause.
I see by Jim’s face that he is about to whip Smith with his “respond quickly”, when the latter comes in.
“I have never had sex with Henry Carlton.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you drink, sir?”
Silence.
“Please respond quickly! I AM inside of your mind palace, and I AM searching.”
“About as much as Henry.”
I have never seen Henry drink.
WAIT A MINUTE!!!
“No one should ever see you drunk. Not even your closest ones.” I remember Henry yelling that to James just the other day!!!
NO ONE SHOULD EVER SEE YOU DRUNK.
Smith hesitated. HE HESITATED, then he compared his drinking to Henry’s. OH! MY! GOD!
“Do you own a car?”
“No.”
No? WTF?
“What are your first memories of Ibadan?”
“I do not have any memories of Ibadan, I was one year old when my family moved.”
Ibadan? Where the heck is Ibadan?!
James did not ask any more questions for the next five minutes, analyzing the intel he received.
Then...
“What do you seek to obtain through your
relationship with Lord Carlton besides a place on “Noah’s Ark” for yourself and your family?”
“I object to this question, Mr. Kellspell. I do not see it that way.”
“Allright.” James did it press the issue further. “When Banazir sent you care packages, what address did he use?”
“I do not know who you are talking about, Mr. Kellspell.”
“My boyfriend Banazir, that’s who we’re talking about!” James grabbed the table by both sides and pushed his head into Wallace’s personal space.
“I never met a man by such a name.” Smith responded calmly, even warmly, and moved his body away from Jim’s, as opposed to meeting the challenge.
James can be so damn rough. I keep on trying to forget that I tied my life with a violent sexual offender. But it keeps on coming back.
It’s like covering a bleeding body with a pile of newspapers. I said that to David. And I could not believe that I was talking behind Jim’s back like that.
Carlton was right again?
I saw Jim’s weakness and I used it against him?
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 108
Ten First Days Of Our Revival 10 \
We come to James for our hourly affirmations of his loyalty to us. THIS IS what is going on. He nourishes us all. ONLY if he, in his turn, is plugged to Prince Moretr, who is plugged to Utolika The Elder, who is plugged to God.
“Oh, hello there! I am looking for a certain Lord Henry Carlton! And who you might be?”
“I’m Lord Carlton’s butler. Lord Carlton is unavailable right now, but the gentleman in the bedroom can show you where to wait.”
The sound of heavy footsteps across our concrete pad.
“Oh, hello there! I am looking for this young bastard who now sells tickets to the only Stairway to Heaven. I knew him when he was yay tall, and now he makes me bend my knee TO HIM! And who you might be?” Now his deep cheerful voice is much closer, the glowing cigar is much brighter. And I can smell it. Yuk, I was never a smoker.
“I am that bastard’s biographer.” I respond with a slight bow. Another Brit. I see.
I could have said “I am that bastard’s mate”, but that one just rolled off my tongue. I came here to write about James, but all I do is write about Henry.
And you would! You know why most of the newcomers are from Great Britain? Now we know why! Henry IS SELLING TICKETS to get into the Noah’s Arc!!!
“A butler, a biographer, a spacious house. The little shit has set himself up nicely, I see.” The large man stuck his head into the sliding door and puffed clouds of smoke into the bedroom.
“You don’t know half of it.” I noted.
“Never mind me! Wait til his father finds out!” The Brit ground his teeth and glanced around.
Should I tell him to wait outside? Should I invite him in?
Oh, there comes Kyle with tea for our newcomer.
Let me give him what for. He will think twice next time before he lets Henry use him against James!
“So, Kyle, What is the right way to address you now? Is it “Barron Spineless”, or is it “Duke Invertebrate”? How could you do this to James?
“Lord Carlton”?! Lord Carlton is your father! What else have you stolen from him to sit here and pretend who you are not in front of these halfwits?”
Oh, my God, Henry is not a lord! Why am I not surprised...
“Why should I listen to you?” Henry said stiffly.
“You know why? Because I was already in the industry when you were still in diapers, that is why.”
“Yet, I am far ahead of you, because I am smarter.”
“You little prick, Henry, how dare you?” Mr. August puffed and huffed.
“You just made black list, Mr. August.”
“Black list? I will show you black list. That’s it, young man, I’m done with you. I’m calling your parents!”
And Mr. August turned around heavily to leave. When...
“Mr. August’ Omigosh, it is you!”
“Who is this, Henry?”
Henry did not have time to respond.
“Big fan of your memoirs, sir!”
James jumped up and shook Mr. August’s large hand.
“Oh yeah?” August’s face lit up. “Thank you!”
“You do not remember me...”
“I do not!” August responded, amused so that he forgot about Henry for a minute.
But something was coming. I can’t explain how I knew, but between psychotic James and explosive Henry it is living on a volcano, and you develop a sixth sense.
A mere whiff of a warning would set off that spider sense. That warning was in Jim’s eyes. They had this feverish sparkle. As if these eyes have seen something they were never supposed to see, and suddenly he remembered about it in the most pleasant of ways.
“You would not remember me.” James continued with a smile. You did not see me because you were with your back to me, having sex with your spouse!”
“What?’ August pulled back in utmost shock. “When?!”
WHAT?! WHEN?!!
Shocked, I felt my heart falling all the way to the floor. James? My James? Broke in into another man’s house? Was that before or AFTER he did the same to Dr. Hugh Michael?!
Henry, however, did not look shocked at all. He immediately used this precious time to pull out a phone and dial the number.
Through the fog in my head I remember thinking - who is he calling and why?
A female voice responded on the other side. His wife? What is he whispering to her in his regular commandeering tone? He pulls everyone’s strings so easily!
“You did what?” Mr. August thundered. “When?”
Then August noticed Carlton on the phone.
“Oh, I see!” He brightened up. “You are just distracting me with the rubbish, giving the time to your accomplice to use his lifeline. I will assure you, that this will be reflected in my complaint to this establishment, whatever it lis!”
James stood there, amused and unafraid.
“Where do you get off making up such outlandish stories?” August went after Jim. “Did Carlton-junior teach you this? Are you with him because you believe his lies about being a lord and living in a castle?”
“No, sir, I need no tutorship when it comes to lying. As for where I got off watching you fuck your husband - that was on your couch in the living room. The old gray ripped-up one? Truly a shame, Mr. August. For a man of your means, you should get a new couch.”
OUCH.
Mr. August went pale and grabbed his heart.
“Henry? Have I given you enough time? I am running out of trump cards to throw at him.”
Jim’s words, however, were drowned in huffing and puffing of Mr. August, slowly sliding down the wall.
“You know what, Henry, you are one sick puppy! Your father will have a word with you!”
What just happened? Mr. August just blew Henry’s cover!
The loud laughter interrupted my thoughts and shook me to the core.
“You took your father’s title?” James bent over and fell on the bed, unable to contain himself.
“You broke into Mr. August’s house to watch him fuck this young boy he married?!” Henry laughed along, slapped his knee and wiped tears.
Henry Carlton knows how to laugh? Oh, my head! What am I witnessing?!
“Guys, August is pissed and he is going to call Henry’s parents!” I reminded sternly.
“Not to worry.” Carlton remained very calm. “I just phoned my sister. She will clear the air.”
Ahem, what did I tell you about the man with a plan? This cat ALWAYS lands on in his feet. And everyone works for him.
Jumping ahead I will say, that having achieved no result with Henry’s parents (Jim is paying for them, you knew that), the incensed Mr. August filed a complaint with Jim’s school.
Apparently it was not as much Henry, but James with his admission of a break in that drove August up the wall. Or, rather, down the wall. He-he-he.
“The respected members of this jury, some people became criminally minded, for they got twisted by hard life. Mr. Carlton and Mr. Kellspell here WERE BORN twisted!”
“This is not a very good defense speech, Sheba!” James smiled, and exhaled cigarette smoke, while scratching Hafnian behind his ear.
“Oh, yes, it is, Jim. And this argument is your ONLY defense! Did you really jerk off onto that man’s couch?!”
“No, I did not.”
Jim’s justification speech, drowning in Carlton’s laughter.
Two dumb thirteen year olds, recalling tp-ing their teacher’s house. I want my mate to be serious, not criminal, sober, and paying attention TO ME!
And what do I know about perfect mates?
I know. I know that Mr. Rubinstein is not gay. This is what I know. And that is most unfortunate. If he was, he’d be my perfect friend. And he drinks like a fish!
Later that night:
“Is this Prince Moretr’s office? Oh, hi, this is Regent James Kellspell. I hear you can synthesize a product? U-huh, So, can you synthesize the toothpaste with the taste of tobacco? Yeah, this is for my wolf-addicted nicotine. I mean, for my nicotine-addicted wolf... It’s been a hard week, i’m sorry... Oh, you can! And how long will it take? U-huh... Really? Tomorrow? Oh, splendid! Because we have a hard time brushing his teeth, and... Oh, really? Free of charge? That’s totally marvelous.”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 107
Days Of Our Revival 9 \ check
“So, Sheba, what is your function aboard this ship?” Mr. Rubinstein pulled out two cigars and offered me one.
Oh, what the heck, I took it.
“I’m Jim’s Arkchil Record operator.” I responded, as he brought a lighter to the end of my cigar. “But besides that I am here to provide comfort and compassion for James.”
“Right, and when was the last time she came you for that?”
The cigar tasted bitter. So would my response.
That is why I did not respond.
But Rubinstein was onto something. That man is full of surprises. He was warning me about what was to come.
I chose this conversation for an epigraph to this chapter, because i do have all the compassion Jim requires, even if he claims it so rarely.
Today i got to give him the compassion he needs so desperately, but refuses to accept.
Full moon, the hardest time.
It happened after his interview.
“It is always YOU FIRST who closes the door on Father.
It is ego’s job to always HAVE a reason at hand to close the door on God.
It is your concern to always FIND a reason to close the door on God and supply it to the ego.”
“Black Hexagon of St. Merelion Of Lar-Mur, Regent Kellspell, when are you going to tell us who robbed us of happiness and why?”
“First, my respect to your founder, our dear Doc Merelion. He was still alive when I lived on Andromeda. He was a true hero, and the comforter of all bereft...”
A murmur among the journalists partially drowned Jim’s last words. Doc Merelion was one of the most powerful messengers of Arzadellin’s teachings, and was martyred by Liberation Front. Mentioning his name indicated Jim’s extreme left leaning that he did not care to cover up.
“And second.” James continued, unrebuffed by discontent. “It is together with a dumb robot YOU are depriving yourself of the happiness, and Nirvana, and of the Love, and of everything sweet and warm that your heart craves.
You are the one choking yourself out of air when you need it most. The air only God can provide.”
The Arkabin with “Black Hexagon Of St. Merelion” Broadcasting & Archives nodded, satisfied. It could be, that he was more satisfied with the fact that Regent Kellspell had acknowledged their revered leader.
“5 Minutes To Revelation”, Mr Kellspell, if it is as you are saying, and God does exist, then why is He not helping us?”
This question is the staple of every press-conference.
“Due to the “Free Will” clause, He cannot enter your life/dream sequence without your permission. So now that you locked yourself up and forgot where the key is, YOU NEED TO ASK Him to open the door from His side, or you will be stuck with “your” stifling ego.”
The press conference finished soon after.
James is not allowed to mingle with the journalists for the fear that they would rip him to pieces for mementos and souvenirs.
So he turned around and glanced with longing at the St. Merelion’s Arkabin journalist, as he was being led away by Moretr’s security. The journalist responded with a sad, but a warm, and reassuring smile.
“Krotkie, do wolves bark? Can you bark?”
The large gray-haired wolf looked at Jim with the happy eyes Hafnian only has when he is in his animal form, and released an unsure half-bark, half-howl.
“Oh, so cute! Come to mommy!”
Little scenes like that. The moments we cherish.
I laugh, imagining I could only write about those.
I weep because I have to write about the shameful part of Jim, too.
When I say he is the “sinful Prophet”, I mean it. He slips, and he falls on his face.
Jeez... Stuff that comes out of his mouth! Angry rants, threats to his colleagues, shooting into people’s photographs. You name it, he did it.
I bleed, I honestly bleed for this man.
I am not going to write about this incident.
No.
Let’s analyze my feelings first. How did I, A DECENT WOMAN, find myself in love with “two clicks away from a sexual offender”? What kind of a prophet is he anyway? Why him? Why?
Ok, ok, take a breath.
I needed a job, that’s why. And he gave me a job. I walked in from the street, torn and forlorn, and he married me. I cried over my personal problems, and he cried with me, even as I asked him to never look into my life. In other words he cried because he had unconditional compassion for me, not because he knew my reasons.
I gave him conditions of our relationship, and he followed them, because he was told to do it.
He protected our Emeralds of Loyalty, he shared his Diamonds of Honor, and he increased the amount of our Sapphires of Service.
That’s why.
So, here goes.
Later that day.
Jim’s full moon nervous breakdown. Followed by two nights in a psych ward, on the Arkabin wing of this compound.
He took his favorite poison, the poison of envy (decoded as: “see, bitch, God loves you more than me”).
The most painful needle for God. He loves us all equally. And when we say that, and He has no way of telling us that we are wrong, it hurts the whole matrix of the Universe.
But this lecture easily falls on deaf ears when all you see in your life is someone else always winning. And even if you are not the last in line, I remind myself often, your line to success seems to be the longest. Sorry. It is my favorite NES poison, too. More Awakening is needed.
It did not start that way, though. He was telling us how his convo with H.M. went that morning.
It was an open night. Plenty of people were hanging around the backyard.
“So, Level 1.” Jim took a pull of his cigarette, squatted, and exhaled the smoke into Hafnian’s face.
“I was putting one batch of oatmeal into two separate containers, one being non-transparent. H.M. comes and says, oh, put it into ONE BIG container. CLICK - “my” dumb ego turned on and immediately advised me to tell “him” (that’s how it calls MY BELOVED H.M.), that i know “A BETTER WAY to arrange food in the fridge”. It has to be YOUR WAY, the twisted machine added.”
Hafnian squinted and sneezed, and stuck his nose out for another pleasant dosage of nicotine.
“But at least now I was not rushing down the road, but walking rather slow. So, I saw where the ego-reasoning made me take the wrong turn.” Jim continued, searching the backyard crowd for Henry.
“I did follow the ego’s incorrect advice, and began telling H.M. how good I am about packing the leftovers in “my preferred containers”.
“You were led on by the ego-program!” Lady Anne suggested.
“Of course!” Jim brightened up. “The ego only and ever is programmed to point the way to conflict and pain.
So, my babbling about how good I could pack food {into the non-transparent containers} was NOT what H.M. wanted to hear. He became upset and defensive and said that he only wanted “what is good for us”, so he, too, could find stuff in the containers of leftovers, and it has to be convenient for both, not just you.
That hurt me, because he failed to see it my way, basically. So, here” Jim glanced at Lady Anne, who was only too happy to nod. “Here I was already under the influence of the “My way or high way” ego-protocol.
But at least right before I made the WRONG (ego-advised) turn to proclaim how good your way was, this time I was awake and slow enough TO SEE THE SIGN that said “NO ENTRY. DEAD END”.
I knew we were heading for a painful conflict, I just could not stop feeling sorry for myself. Internally I was already wired for a conflict, then.
After H.M.’s ego triggered him to proclaim that “his way was better” (simply because he is incapable of seeing it MY way), “my” ego translated it for me as “you poor thing, he does not care about your opinion! You are completely forgotten here, forced into mute slavery. You are in pain, but it is HIS fault!”
I bought that. I allowed a weakness on my spiritual path, and I was poisoned by that statement. I became upset with my H.M.
So, instead of coming to God for the medicine, I went to the devil for the poison.
I came back to the ego and asked for a remedy to my pain.
“Well”, it said, you know the answer already. In order not to get hurt by insensitive men, you just need to live alone.”
Here! Separation! And again
I failed to unlock the chain...
My reputation has a stain -
The anger that was caused by pain...”
James closed his eyes. “It was ME, who programmed the machine to keep on repeating the scene of Separation. I do want to come back to Father! But it is so hard not to feel sorry for yourself!!!
If I was not constantly under the influence of blue ksill, and in close contact with a higher channeling being, like Prince Moretr here, I would be dead so many, many times! Because the pain of misunderstanding is incredibly strong!”
Here he goes.
“When a disagreement between partners takes place, you do feel alone, you do feel forgotten, and you absolutely throw every rock available into the images of those you believe were luckier than you.
I must say, that NOT ALL OF US here really earned the good life they lead! Because if I had money, if anyone cared to buy my books on Amazon, I could then AFFORD to live alone, so I would not have to take shit from ANYONE...”
What he says FEELS right. But I KNOW he is wrong.
“Jim, come on.” I felt to be the one to do the right thing. “You fell under the influence of ego protocol. Shake it off!”
“Hold on, Sheba, I’m not done.” Jim’s eyes were narrowed, painful darkness and denouncement lurking inside, indicating that he gulped quite a bit of poison. “I will reiterate, that from now on I I will only communicate with those who actually suffered at least as much as me! For as long as me! With those who KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE FORGOTTEN!”
“James! Of all things, you were never the last one in line!”
He turned to me, his eyes full of tears, his lips twisted, his fists clenched.
I got ready to take whatever he was going to give me, for I was the defense line between my irate mate and the unprotected general public. This was not going to get out of hand.
I alone was not going to be able to restrain him, his teacher was no longer there mentally, but there was Henry, and there was Demetra. There was also Mr. Milgram, just in case. All very strong, and determined men.
But it was not needed.
Suddenly (and thankfully!) for everyone, James collapsed.
I could barely prevent his head from hitting the floor, as Mr. Rubinstein quickly crossed the classroom and knelt by Jim’s side.
“How people live, Sheba!” James whispered as he slowly came to, breathing heavily. “I had no idea! They are RESPECTED INDIVIDUALS! They get to be invited to lucrative projects. They have fun and make a decent living...”
What is it that I hear? Is he asking for compassion in this embarrassing, roundabout way?
Some people in the backyard stopped talking and drinking and started looking in our direction.
“How can I not feel sorry for myself?!” Jim continued while laying in my arms. “What have I seen in life? I spent 20 years dealing with my mother, and 20 years dealing with H.M. Literally, Sheba, NON-STOP.” He swallowed hard, crying large, bitter tears, his face angry and disdainful.
“James, everyone is watching...”
Wrong move. That only seemed to give him more strength.
“Fine! Let them! THEY DO NOT KNOW MY STRUGGLE! I AM ALMOST FIFTY YEARS OLD, and I have nothing to show for it!!! The only good times I can remember is when I was with the Rotarians. Everything else was just one fucking bloodbath.” His breathing intensified and he tried to get up. “When I get to the Pearly Gates, Sheba, I will put up a list of names of those who are not allowed to enter!” He broke away from my embrace and glanced at the silent crowd.
“Those motherfuckers that lived creatively fulfilled lives, got acknowledged for their talent, got paid for their performance... Even if stuff took place in their life, they were more than reimbursed BECAUSE SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE thought they were worth hiring for good money!”
“James, please! You are not yourself!” I shook him by his shoulders, but to no avail.
“I make $24 000 a year, and I will die in indentured servitude, Sheba! I will never be free, I will never get noticed...” His last words were a howl, hurled towards the guests in the backyard.
What people are going to think?!
Through my own pain I saw that, of all other frozen people, Lady Anne walked very close to our ugly scene, and she was crying.
Then, she pulled out a pen and a piece of paper out of her purse, and wrote something down. An Arkchil to her right zoomed in, and i ran my fingers across my bridgeplate to gain access to that Arkchil’s feed.
I made an illegal move. But it was worth it.
Now I could see what she wrote.
She wrote down her name. To start “that list”.
I knew it was time to end Jim’s rant before some other people, grateful to be on the Strobulus through Jim’s sacrifice, started adding their names to Lady Anne’s list, if it was the only way to show their solidarity with Jim’s struggle.
For each of them had their own fucking list of those who THEY THOUGHT have not suffered enough, and should not be allowed to Heaven.
And I had mine.
It was time to call Jim home.
“He is hurting himself, he is hurting us all, Mr. Rubinstein, James is out of control. Please, do something.”
Leonard nodded, and touched Jim’s neck underneath his left ear.
There is a button there, it makes him pass out. But you must be authorized to use it.
I would hack into the Arkchil Network before I use that button to knock Jim out.
Notes sent to Jim’s psychiatric ward after he took the poison of grudge and collapsed:
Lord Henry Carlton: “How many times have I told you to stick to the script? None of it would have happened, had you followed the script. You are to clean my bathroom and my shoes instead of Mr. Merritt for a week, James. And Mr. Merritt is to have all your desserts and your Amazon packages!”
Carlton is totally using Kyle as his pawn.
Mr. Rubinstein: “It will all work out, Krista, you will see. I will take care of Sheba until you get out. Hallelujah, my girl.”
Always a gentleman.
Mine: “Jim, Hafnian had seizures after you were taken away. You need to think about your poor defenseless teacher, and how your behaviour is reflected on him. We need to start an anger management class or something.”
Guilt tripping was not in my nature until I lived with Lord Carlton for a year and watched him use this psychological weapon freely and often.
Lord Sedgefield: “Thank you for letting us illusion panel our apartment to yours. Ian is loving the view of the forest. You are making first steps on the Path Of Service. It is not always easy. We are here for you. Mark&Ian.”
They are nice guys. I can see right through the walls of that apartment. Is this part of the plan or am I going crazy?
Dr. Michael: “James, that was extremely inappropriate, but I clearly see that God is with you. Our Matushka loved your performance, she now wants you again for a few hot hours, and Lady Anne signed for martyrdom, because she wants to be just like you.”
Oh yeah? Excellent!
Lady Lion of Levin Corp: “The show’s ratings skyrocketed after your stint. Next time try the same rant, but naked.”
My Lady Lion! Ever the businessman!
Well, a sockful of good reviews we did not count on. Jim should no longer feel like a complete moron!
Now, look at this:
Kyle Merritt: “James, This may be the worst time to tell you this. I know i’m hitting you when you are down. You were asking me when our Ceremony will happen. I’m going to marry Lord Carlton, and not you. I feel like a traitor. I’m still going to take care of your teacher until you are back.”
What?! This is not the first time Henry has slapped James with spineless Mr. Merritt. Certainly not the last. I’m going to have it with Kyle.
Jim loved all the notes, but this one from Aunt Demetra was special. He cried over it for a long time:
“ I have made every mistake you made. I am the man you envy BECAUSE OF THAT.”
Wow, short, sweet and heartfelt. I know Aunt Demetra is NOT on Jim’s list of those who have not suffered enough.
“It is not shameful, James. Weakness is a medical mental condition, not a reason for shame.
To everyone else, a message from the aliens: we have been boiling in this cauldron of passions a lot longer than you. Please heed my advise: be patient with each other.
To those who think that God loves James Kellspell more than you: currently YBS/Cassiopeia Headquarters have six more vacant positions of a “Prophet” for three different spiritually failing galaxies. If we find you to be strong enough, we promise to be as generous to you and yours as we are to the Kellspell team. See your nearest Arkchil for that. Prince Moretr Sardonyx Eridani.”
Oh yeah, Jim does not know it yet. At least seven separate pings of envy OF JAMES was spotted in the crowd of onlookers as Jim’s hateful rant was heard.
PEOPLE WERE ENVIOUS that he was getting all this attention. It is like being envious of a patient, because he is surrounded by doctors.
Oh, my head. So, Moretr said - no problem! You want to be James Kellspell? We have six more positions.
Let’s see if the envy-crazed hotheads will bite. I want to see them fly to Behemoth Galaxy or something, knowing darn well that they will be martyred there for their prophecies.
Last but not the least, from the cat from MEOL, MC17: “I assembled a hydrogen-powered Tribelin just so I could watch your show. Tell me more about those fat cats of Planet Hollywood. What are the parameters of that planet? What color is their fur? Why do they like to stay fat? Tradition? Defense mechanism?”
MEOL - LOL! And “LMAO”. This one just made “Joke of The Year”. Wait, what? Hydrogen-powered Tribelin? I thought a Tribelin engine is powered by cosmic rays. And where did the cat get hydrogen on a planet with no precipitation?
Oh, here comes Kyle. He will remember today! Bite the hand that feeds him he will not!
No, that’s not Kyle. British accent. A cigar, glowing in the deepening twilight. Who is coming to our back door?
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 106
Days Of Our Revival 8 / finished
“The only right way to see THIS world and the situation is through Your Eyes. Please teach me to see everything with Your Eyes. There are no bad news in Your world. If I learn how to see it all through Your Eyes, there will be no bad news in mine, either.”
{Thomas Latter, Sky TV (TalosFilm)
London} /Filming in May
“When do we rely on God? At all times. Here is the story of your shame, people: You rely on God every time you eat, breathe, talk, and especially use your brain.
All that is called “being plugged into God”. The only thing that prevents you from SEEING God is “your” ego.
You are like a lamp that claims that it “created” the light that comes from it, and all the while the dumb bitch of a lamp is plugged into the electrical socket.”
“So, you are telling us, that we, supposedly, can’t do anything without being “plugged into God”, as you wish to put it?”
“Yes, exactly. Unplug you from God, and you can’t even move. Plug you back into His Powergrid, and here you are whistling around again, denying the Existence of The One who gives you everything.”
“With all due respect, Regent Kellspell, can you prove any of it?”
“I can prove it so clearly and so easily that your further embarrassment is guaranteed. I will do it in the next issue of my lectures.”
“One question about your reality show, Regent Kellspell. “5 Minutes to Revelation”. When Lord Carlton threw you against the wall in Episode 93, you were in pain, but you did not take the poison of grudge, why?”
“I did not take the poison of grudge because it sets you up for the attack on the one who “hurt” you (as per “your” ego)”. And I did not want to hurt Henry (copy H. M.)!”
Here I come to the door of the classroom. I hesitate whether to bother him at all. But I must. There, I make a decision, and I stick my head in.
“James, I’m sorry, I know you are recording an interview, but these people are here...
CUT!
End of tape. Again.
End of tape, this is it. Jesus, why do I not remember what happened afterwards? It’s like a gap in my memory.
The next thing on my Arkchil channel is me watching Jim’s interview in post-production, and wanting to throw up.
“Spike Pressured Mantle Broadcasting & Archives via Begrebs of Ahikilim, Regent Kellspell, sir, can you please describe your life before your respected mate, Lord Henry Carlton?”
“Oh!” Jim gives them a wide, amused smile. “Before Henry I was like a dancer who did not know his steps, would forget what he needed to do, got under other dancers’ feet and got punched for that. I was so lost in the experience of being a total, complete disgrace to my family that I wanted to be dead more times than I can remember.”
There was this profound silence in the makeshift press-conference room of our classroom. It lasted for at least three minutes that Jim gave the journalists for questions.
Having received none from his stunned audience, he just went on.
“A Sheiredi proverb says: Love is the train/ Strobulus to Heaven.
If you are not in it, then you will have to walk.”
Possibly another long minute passed before there was a raised hand from the Pelargoniums.
“Time Paradox & Seashell Effect, Mr. Kellspell... Ahem, to change the subject... Your show is smashing all the records of popularity. Would you consider mating with one of our prime Personnel A Estelians to start a new breed?”
Paradox&Fishsmell has balls to ask for that!!!
“I honestly would fuck anything that does not fight back, sir. And I am totally flattered that your personnel is not planning to fight back. However, as you know, 4 years ago I have surrendered. So, the chain of command now goes like this: if you want to breed me, you need to ask Prince Moretr, receive approval from the Levin Corporation, pay my mate Henry and bring a gift to my mate Sheba. Then I am yours.”
Oh, how sweet! That was a pleasant twist. This is the first time I heard this rap with an addition of my name.
As per the rules no one needs to bring me, or Henry, anything to get to Jim. We are owned by Moretr and controlled by Lady Lion of Levin Corp. They are the ones to deal with.
However, since Henry inserted himself (bullied his way) in between to receive chunks of cash he is not entitled to, Jim apparently decided to fix me with the same rights. I am grateful, and these people have money. So, all good.
Morning.
Morning on a gaining moon. These are normally tough.
James broke through from Level 1 (basically appeared in the middle of our bedroom out of thin air), and hit the emergency button ON THE RUN, which he visualized as he stopped himself abruptly right before stumbling over the bed.
“My Prince, I request an emergency meeting with you. Please! Now!” Jim’s hands were shaking as he sat on the bed heavily, and stared at the door.
What happened on Level 1?
I was busy brushing out Hafnian when Jim burst in. Kyle was shaking out Henry’s area rugs, while Henry in his Royal Chamber was on the phone with his mother.
Alerted by Kyle to Jim’s arrival, Henry immediately came to the entrance of his Royal Chamber, and now was watching Jim, who was watching the door.
See, normally James is in this much of a hurry when he gets a hardon, and, therefore, rushes to Henry, who lives for such moments. Nothing is more important for him than Jim rushing home in a hurry, with Henry’s Royal Chamber as a target destination.
But this time James blasted right past it, was unresponsive to all my requests, and did not react to Henry’s appearance (!).
Whiskey tango foxtrot?
The door opened within the next two minutes, and an Arkabin beckoned James out. He jumped off the bed and left the room.
“I need you to access his Arkchil channel and tell me what is this all about, Sheba.”
Lord Carlton narrowed his eyes at me, his expression deeply serious, as opposed to normally disdainful.
I do have access to Jim’s Arkchil channel. However, I try to steer clear from spying on him in real time. One thing is to pull up archive records, and completely another is to watch his tearful emergency meeting with Prince Moretr.
“I can’t do that, Henry, this may be confidential.”
“I hate to pull the rank on you, Sheba, but you will do what I tell you to do, because I AM his First Spouse.”
A title, obtained by fraud.
“Have you ever heard of a notion of privacy, Henry? It’s not a hard concept to grasp. I am waiting for your understanding.”
“And I am waiting for you to get on with the program.” Henry responded dryly.
I could have brought up the fact that he cut way ahead of the line to claim his rights on James. And that I actually had proof of his clandestine machinations.
But it was not time to fight. It was time to save James.
I could steam all day long, but Henry had a plan, and all I had was objections to his plan.
By this Winter Of Memorandum Of Kriagir Dorilin, I had less and less reasons to object, because Henry’s plan could bring up to sixty thousand dollars a day hard cash to the table, while all I would normally bring to the table would be worry and doubt.
Really, Carlton was utterly morally bankrupt, but a pro in everything he did. A year later, by fraud or otherwise, he was firmly in control of James, therefore, of the situation.
So, I needed to help him STAY in control of James, therefore, the situation.
Unless I had another plan.
And I did not.
So I put behind everything that I ever believed to be ethical, visualized my bridgeplate, and ran my hand over the top corner.
“... and when that happens, I am going to turn down the life insurance with the following words to H.M.: “The only reason I am still alive is because I’m on the snuff. I am off the snuff for a month and I will kill myself.”
If I said that, my Prince, I would blow my cover wide open. H.M., in his turn, will realize, that the reason we are still together is BECAUSE OF THE SNUFF. I am off the snuff, and everything will fall apart. Then, in his mind, there will be no difference between me and Artir. That is going to make him lose his marbles!!!Please see that. I am going balls to the wall defending myself. It WILL blow my cover, it WILL jeopardize this operation, and the entire mission altogether, but I see no other way out unless your think tank comes with another solution.”
Lord Carlton loomed behind my back so close that his hair was tickling my cheek.
“See? This is serious. Had you not argued with me, Sheba, we would have caught the beginning of the conversation. But your heart became overwhelmed with what James calls “the rust of distrust”.”
Guilt trip tactics. Time to push him back by a back-handed compliment.
“Had you not thrown your omega card on the table, Lord Carlton, I would have thought that you were an Alpha.”
That shut him up.
I am getting a hang of family politics. I am to spend the Eternity with this gentleman, so i better kick it up a notch.
“Diplomacy is not your forte, try agriculture.” Carlton told me way back when.
So I will try both, you stuck up, pushy aristocrat. And I will succeed in both. Can’t stay down too long with the likes of you.
“It is going to be alright, James.”
The voice of Prince Moretr entered my mind from the bridgeplate. By the time i paid attention to the live feed of Jim’s confidential meeting, the latter was on a bed, with Moretr holding his hands on Jim’s forehead.
There. The Andromedan dude will take care of my mate.
“There is no time for this, my Prince!” Jim’s voice was awash in panic even as he was not in his body. “This conversation with H.M. might take place as early as TODAY! And then he’d say: so, you can’t stay off the snuff for a month to get the lowest rate on the life insurance, then YOU PAY A HIGHER RATE!” And I am going to be devastated!”
“Let’s first soften up your possible explanation speech.” Moretr glanced at James and made adjustments on the bridgeplate.
“Let’s soften up to the idea of cooperation, Sheba, shall we?” Lord Carlton whispered over my shoulder.
And over my head.
He is that incredibly tall. And eerily removed from everything I ever considered to be honest, decent, and even human.
Cooperation, yes!
As I watched James being treated for a panic attack by Prince Moretr, I wondered what would be my internal price for cooperation with Lord Carlton.
And then, and then and then Henry got mad at James in the middle of the night.
A moonlit one, too.
For me to see better what took place in the backyard. In the moonlight.
All these hearts on the table
To unlock.
And the moon is getting smaller
As we talk.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 105
Days Of Our Revival 7 / Finished
“Garden caddy with a tape recorder inside makes for a very poor oracle.”
From Jim’s lecture “To The Andromedans”
“I know how humiliating it is for you to get a lecture from a monkey. But it is not about this monkey that sits high. It is about how low you have fallen. Or, rather, how far you have allowed “your” ego to drag you away from God. But, I applaud you today for making the first step towards Awakening.”
I was listening to Jim’s lecture “To The Andromedans. Part III”, when I became aware of the action in the Royal Chamber.
“Henry, oh, the loveliest of men, where are you hiding? Not in the corner... And not behind the drapes... What is this bulge under the comforter? Can this be my fair Lord Carlton, the fiddle of my heart?”
What now? They are playing hide-n-seek?
What’s with these two?! Both are pushing fifty, and STILL ACTING LIKE CHILDREN!!!
“Henry?! I know you are here... Please come out now, my Ruler Supreme, so this humble servant could worship His Most Splendid Majesty!”
“His Most Splendid Majesty” Oh, come on! Why am I listening to this nonsense? Back to the lecture!
“Everything about you is beautiful! Your most handsome face, your lovely hands, and your feet! Oh, would you stick one foot out so I could kiss it?”
Arggh! There is no door to close!
Good morning, and welcome back to “Kellspell And Warm Fuzzy Mates: A PG-13 show you can afford”
How the f** is this PG-13?! We can’t afford that!
I wanted to watch the lecture, but instead I’m listening to Henry & James reality show. And going through the notes in the bridgeplate. The easiest thing for now. I’m too overheated due to the recent events. I can’t even think.
Jim’s note to me: “I read your latest entries. What a splendid writer you are! One correction. Lord Carlton is not my entire cross. It’s “Carlton-SALEM Alliance”, Sheba. Love you, James. P.S. I know you are lonely. I have prepared a surprise for us.”
Not for a second do I relax. A surprise? I don’t like surprises. And, by the way, I did not give in to the compliment. His comes standard at all times, second or last sentence of any paragraph that comes out of his mouth. Free custom-cut compliments for whoever he is talking to, at specially allocated times.
So he would not forget to slip in a compliment or two.
Whether they deserve it or not.
Oh, here is the note from this, um, lady of other species, Morus Alba: “I do not have any money, but I can give you five million years of devotion.”
What, has she been around since Pleistocene?
Who else wrote him?
Oh, Uri Kumlatov: “You were late to the class last night.”
He was chasing, placating and subsequently fucking Henry, that’s why he was late to the class. But mum’s the word. This is what I say: Jim could have shown up in time just out of respect for what Kumlatovs are going through right now.
But Henry is always number one on Jim’s schedule. Number two is making money for Henry’s maintenance. Number three is school, but only because it helps him get into Henry’s graces. Oh, don’t get me started!
Jesus Almighty, how can I get ANYTHING DONE when this is going on? I honestly wince every time I hear British accent at the door. And there is, like, forty Brits here already.
Plus everyone who PRETENDS to have British accent. And there are Brits who pretend to have the AMERICAN accent...
And all of them bribed Henry to be here. How is access to Strobulus is his to sell, anyway?
In other words, every time Lord Carlton assaults James, I develop a bruise.
What’s this? A note from Mr. Rubinstein.
“Please, open the door of your soul!
If not - I will look for a keyhole.
My love, I have keys to your heart.
You’re splendid, you’re noble, you’re smart!”
This is what Krista wrote to Henry last night, Sheba. Would a woman who felt abused write such a poem to her alleged abuser?
Your friend Leonard”
You know what, sir, I do not need this right now. I don’t accept “they are both adults” argument. Or your “what is right for Krista” attitude. It would be right for “Krista” if you called her “James”.
What is wrong with me today? I pick fights with EVERYONE, in my mind.
But not Mr. Rubinstein. Let’s keep him out of my internal fight. He knows what is going on. He seems in tune with the situation, while I’m not. He seems to be at peace with the violence we are witnessing.
What is going on in the Royal Chambers? They are suspiciously quiet. Actually, complete silence. Did they escape to the Seaside Colonnade Of Stelarius? Darn those star-crossed idiots. Happy together! Neither one even thought of inviting me!
So, why is Jim with this conceited Hammersmith Lord? He is not going to find any consolation there.
A fresh example of how Henry never runs out of genius ways to punish James for disobedience.
Like, recently Henry was trying to teach James not to use swearing words. Carlton makes Jim eat soap every time he breaks this rule.
There are unsightly ways of doing that.
And not that Henry would shy away from the “unsightly” to prove a point.
But my discontent may have influenced Lord Carlton in the ways we could not imagine, so he may be moving from “unsightly” to “elegant”.
If Henry hears James say some bad words, he rubs his toothbrush in soap that night. Jim starts brushing his teeth in the morning, complains about toothpaste tasting like perfume. A couple of days later, same story.
Then James finally put two and two together, and now he asks me to help him watch his language.
What can I say? Lord Carlton’s ways are cruel, but very effective. And now also elegant.
U-huh. Here I am, trumpeting up how cool Henry is. Let’s get back to work before we have completely fallen to his wicked charms.
I need to pull up and read a couple of Jim’s most famous lectures, and then check his personal Arkchil channel for the recent entries.
“Oh, look at this! Old age is after me!”
Lord Carlton’s voice in the Royal Chamber!
“Henry, oh, Henry! Please quit studying every wrinkle on your face! There is no “monster in the closet”! There is no one in the closet but us homosexuals!”
Man... They are back! Just as I was trying to get to work.
“Speak for yourself! I am not homosexual!!! What does that have to do with my wrinkles and gray hair?!”
“Age is an illusion, my most splendid Henry! Non-existent things, my love. Be not afraid of non-existent things.”
A-and we have trouble on Level 1.
“I am in front of you, for you are the Conduit Of God, whether I want it or not, my Prince. You know I have not always been warm towards you due to your poor human rights record {“Disrespect Of Species” would be a more correct translation of some charges against Moretr}, but what right do I have to throw a rock at you when I, myself, am not clean!”
“James, it is all right. You are being very dramatic.”
Moretr is probably smiling now. He is a sentient being, after all. And to him, we are not more than monkeys. So are our problems.
But now this one monkey wanted to see the Face of God. This is what this show is all about.
“My Prince, I must tell you everything! This.... (sobbing. There, he is already broken up!) this early morning I found myself to be in violation of my Covenant with Krotkie. I mean, Wolf Hafnian. And this red-hot rod of a connection through Love to you to Father is holy for me.”
“James, have a seat.” Prince Moretr is heard moving around Henry’s Royal Chamber, looking for a way to get James relaxed.
Henry himself was distracted and led away by the Arkabins. They took him for a jog in the woods, otherwise Henry would find every conceivable reason to burst back into his Royal Chamber to be with James.
And James would welcome that until he was sucked dry.
But he needs a break.
“I refused to go! I violated my oaths! I drew the line between us, I made my Love conditional, therefore I made him unhappy!”
“My sweet Love, it’s ok.”
“I must not deviate from the moral compass Dr. Michael gave me. Who am I if not my oaths? Who am I if not the Pleaser of My Beloved?"
“Shhh. Let me see.”
Prince Moretr is a Grehedi. He does not need our permission to see our inner workings. But he always asks for it.
He has a compelling reason to treat James with all the care he can afford, to make up for his history of disrespectful treatment of lesser species.
And Moretr did not stop there. He went ahead and disrespected the species forty levels ABOVE himself, if, for example, he needed to build a fractional distillation plant on someone’s sacred grounds.
So now I feel that Moretr pulls James out of his body, and opens up the hood of his space-time capsule. There is no other way to explain what we really are (a body only being a container for a sleeping mind).
“Let’s see the Arkchil record of this morning. All your protocols are intact. You did not violate anything, my sweet Love.”
“But I made my mate unhappy by refusing to go to Isvakar’s funeral.” Jim is talking while out of his body. The only way to hear him now if you are plugged to his personal channel. And I am.
“It’s OK, hon, your wave is splashing, and I need an even surface of calm waters so I could see into the depth. Uri, come to Regent Kellspell’s channel, will you?
“But I broke my own rules on patience and compassion!”
“My Love, you can write a book “50 Shades Of Compassion”. Uri, place your wing on his main feed and give me half a golden hexagon, will you? It will be alright, James. I will fix you in no time! We want to see you all on MEOL, Magellanic Cloud 17, Andromeda Federation.”
The last words are said into the face of his closest Arkchil. This call will hit the screens of Moretr’s audience within the next 36 hours or so.
Apparently we are a very profitable reality show on Moretr Enterprises. We will be even more profitable when the action is moved to this planet Jim is supposed to run as a regent of the Levin Corp.
He is enormously proud to have been chosen for such a mission, and he takes it very seriously. So he wants to keep it pure for his audience. That is why Jim was so upset with his performance today.
Jim wants this show to mean something to the fat cats of Andromeda. For him this project is Via Appia to Heaven, and not just another capitalistic venture for Prince Moretr Sardonyx Eridani.
You want to see spirit strengthened and steel hardened? Kellspell & Mates can show you how it’s done. Tune in to Morning Emerald Of Loyalty (MEOL, MC17/Magellanic 17).
But how much is too much, this is what I always ask. Are we not overtaxing Jim?
“Please look carefully for the ego-protocol, sir!” Jim is determined not to “draw power from the dark dimension”, for the lack of a better explanation. “I caught myself thinking that if I had some PERSONAL ATTENTION, like an interview, or a project, then it would be easier for me to take a week without Blue Ksill. But this is not what I said to Krotkie. I said to Krotkie: “I am yours unconditionally”. We cannot put conditions on Love. If I do that, I will jeopardize the entire Mission, my Prince, please help me stay clean!”
That’s what James said yesterday.
You know why?
I will tell you why.
Here is a Sheiredi proverb for you:
“Love is a train to Heaven
If you are not in it, you will have to walk.”
That’s why.
Here I started watching his lectures again, and this one was delivered on a ship, I think. It was called “The Well Of Memories”.
It is shocking in its simplicity. And incredible power.
I could say something about it, but it leaves you speechless. I will put it on this channel when I’m ready.
“You white-washed Father, and put “The Well Of Memories” instead. That is why, every time you want to see God, all you find is gutter.”
United Wells Of Memories, right. I will write about it when I am ready.
WwwwwWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 104
Days Of Our Revival 6
“I don’t care what gender you are, as long as you are on my side.”
Lord Henry Carlton.
I find myself quoting him more and more.
Why?
I will explain. On the LAST day of the old year he abused my mate.
But on the FIRST day of the new year he placed several large wads of money on my bed.
“Here.” He said curtly. “Your share.”
The man knows how to get money.
I quote him, for he has outdone me in every respect.
He is brutal, ruthless, but brilliantly effective.
I can hate him, I can call him disgraceful royal asshole, and Hammersmith Tyrant, but the man consistently finds ways to make money.
I counted twenty thousand dollars in $100 bills. As I was counting them in front of a very matter-of-factly Henry, the wads smelled like tobacco.
But even without the “classic mark” that he acquired after his teacher, I knew that it was Jim’s money.
Jim’s hard-earned money.
“Your share”. Carlton is out of his mind. It is JIM’s MONEY. What right does he think he has to take it away from him?
“I can read your mind. You are feeling sorry for him. But not for long. Soon it will be revealed who he really is, and you will understand why I did what I did in the Grey Building. You will know.”
A hoarse whisper enough to raise every single hair on the back of your neck. Lord Carlton does love to be dramatic.
All I know is that you are full of shit. I have just about watched the entire Arkchil archive of Jim’s life. It took me over a year, and although I found plenty of shocking stuff, none of it justifies your behavior towards him.
And if you want to talk about what happened in the Grey Building, tell me better what drug you used to knock out Kellspell, and how did you administer it to him? Because we all know what happened next in your room: he was dragged away unconscious.
But I did not say any of it.
And I took the money.
Not because I am weak, or lack the courage of my convictions. And not even because Jim’s money can be converted to karmic credits 1:7...
I was ready to fight for Jim for as long as it takes.
Only Jim’s voice in my mind reminded me that it was not time to fight.
It was time to love.
Six Arkchils capture the image of a bottle flying out of the back door, and smashing against the concrete pad in our backyard, missing me by a few inches as I was coming back from Mr. Rubinstein’s.
Light-brown liquid gold of whiskey splashes and sinks into the grass in sparkling drops and rivulets.
And I hide in the corner, a foot before the sliding glass door begins. What is it about this time?
“No one should ever see you drunk, James!”
Slap.
“Ow, Henry! Not even your closest ones? Why?”
“Even the closest ones, every single one of them, will see it as a weakness, and will use it against you!”
Slap.
Then Jim’s pleading voice:
“I drank alone, Henry!”
“You drank in front of Sheba!”
“Sheba won’t turn on me!”
“I have heard it all before!” Lord Carlton’s threatening whisper is like a dark thunderous cloud over a totally unprotected village.
Now, I know, when I was leaving, Jim gobbled hard liquor at 11:46 AM, WITHOUT anyone’s PERMISSION. And then, the LEAST important part is that he was doing it in front of me.
As if day drinking WAS OK for as long as no one saw you drink...
But. Lord Carlton’s logic. I’ll leave it at that.
“You got drunk and cried into Sheba’s shoulder. She WILL use it against you! You showed your weakness, that’s unforgivable!
A sound of a punch into a face (?). A thud of a chair falling back. Jim’s scream and subsequent moans.
All right, that does it. I’ve heard enough. I’m coming in to rescue my James!
“I demand excellence of you!” Carlton went on as I walked into our bedroom. “You are to work, while everyone settles on furniture like dust! It is the only way to get ahead!!”
It really WAS what I thought. He tied Jim to the chair and beat him until the chair fell over.
“I demand excellence of you, James, because no one cares to listen how hot it was in the fire and how cold it was in the water! Everyone wants to see the finished sword!!! And everyone wants to see it in action!” Carlton leaned over Jim with a tight fist at the ready.
“Lord Carlton! If you hit him again, I will enable the emergency!”
This is all l can say, watching James on the floor in a very awkward position with his legs still tied to the chair, his body on the left side, and his nose bleeding.
Blood on the curtains, too. It clearly flew there from Jim’s face as he was falling, helpless.
This is all I can say, because Lord Carlton is a large, aggressive man. If he decided to push me away to have his way with James, there was nothing I could do.
“Sheba...” A pleading voice reached my ears. A voice from my fallen, bleeding mate!
“Yes, James!” I knelt by his side, and tried to wipe the blood off his lips and chin. Some of it was DRY! How long has Carlton kept him tied to this chair?! “Hold on, Jim, i am going to hit the emergency, the Arkabins will take Henry away and they will provide first aid for you!”
“Sheba, listen...” James took a jagged breath, and my heart sank as I looked at his bruised face. “Henry is going to...”
“Yes, I know, Henry is going to kill you, if I do not step in!”
“Henry is going to make a man out of me. If he can’t, then I am doomed.”
What?
“I know you are lonely, my love. I promise i will take care of you tonight. Go see if Mr. Rubinstein needs help with putting bark around the trees.”
What?!!
Jim gave me a faint smile, after which all of his attention was re-focused on Carlton.
“Henry, you were saying...”
And so I left, shocked and defeated.
“Now get up and go clean my shoes. If you think I’ll let you fuck around in London...!!!”
“Henry, oh, thank you... Please don’t give up on me... I’ll do anything you say.”
“And God help me if I catch you drinking again, James...”
I sped up to get away, not to hear this anymore.
What have I missed? Have I failed as a friend and a mate?!
Ok, maybe I’ll do better as a landscape designer. Mr. Rubinstein! I am coming to help you pull weeds and trim trees.
And no, I will not turn on James. Because we are One.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EVACUATION ORDER IN PROGRESS.
Everything File 104 & up - to take a picture of.
THIS FILE IS CLOSED FOR USE.
EVACUATION ORDER IN PROGRESS.
Reason: File became too big.
Can no longer email to
VoresHemmelighed65@icloud.com
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New file to be started
7 LS KRIAGIR YASEREMSHAN
KRIAGIR DORILIN
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 103
Days Of Our Revival 5:
WINTER MEMORANDUM
“Please make me impervious to any impact, so I could serve You with no impediments.”
From an overheard conversation between Jim and Prince Moretr, channeling The Original Source.
“Happy New Year, bitches, and may it bring new beginnings! And, Henry, I’m on my knees. May your incredible masculine beauty lead and inspire us all this year, and all years to come. I will be your cloak of protection. I will give you anything your most valiant heart ever wanted. And to everyone - this is not homosexual! Nothing “homosexual” is happening here!”
James Kellspell, drunk, 9:55 am, this morning, talking to an assembly of apartments in front of him (everyone was doing their thing, no one responded).
Why am I even quoting his New Year’s rant? Maybe someone else said something smarter.
Only all I see is my star, Jim Kellspell. My sinful prophet, my best fuck, the man who radicalized me into signing up for martyrdom. Kyle, too.
It took Kyle 30 years, but who was once brainwashed by James, stays brainwashed by James. When it came to saving his mother from another painful incarnation, Kyle saw that he had no choice but to sign up for the Legion Of Light, just like the young Russian Marxist preached.
Apparently, after a lifetime of search, no one else in Kyle’s life made more sense than James. And most definitely if there was a way to save his mother from another “swirly”, no one else but James would know the way.
“If your hesitation to join us is based on fear of pain, I can show you that there is no pain and there is no fear. Both are an illusion.”
And Jim did show all that with a lifetime of adherence to his beliefs.
That’s one thing that Kyle remembered from their long conversations on a bench in the woods surrounding Bene Geserit’s Bar & Lounge where they used to meet.
If the mountain does not come to Mohammed... Mohammed will have to come to the mountain.
i will get to the bottom of this. If I have to see Jim’s life through the channels of those who knew him long before me.
A frog jumped from the grass onto the concrete pad in front of our back door, and sat there, staring at me through the sliding door. I watched it as I was entering these very observations into my bridgeplate.
A few minutes later I lifted my head to see if the gawking amphibian was still there, but the glass door got too foggy to see through.
Jim and Henry were taking a shower, and, too much into each other, forgot to close the door.
Deep in my thoughts, I did not realize that the door to the bathroom was open until the frog disappeared from my view.
The glass has gotten foggy,
I could not see the froggy.
Darn the poem-weaving app. Is there a way to turn it off?!
“Henry, let me wash your butt with cold water, and you will not have hemorrhoids!”
“I don’t have any hemorrhoids!”
“I am feeling one right now!”
“Get away from me! Wash my back! Get me the shampoo! I have not had a lazier servant, James!”
“Lord Carlton and Mr. Kellspell! Please close the door of your bathroom!”
“And quit using so much electricity, James! Next thing I know I will be taking my breakfast by candlelight!”
Really, Lord Carlton? The man who pays for everything here can’t even turn on a lamp?!
Argggh! I can’t stand any more of him!!! He is infuriating!
“Gentlemen! CLOSE THE DOOR!”
“Look at you! You are fat! I will put you on a 600 calorie a day diet. That will teach you to snack between meals!”
- [ ] James is 5”7 weighing 120 pounds. So, maybe he’s got some thin love-handles right above his hips. Who does not at his age? This one cut me deep. What else is Carlton hissing about there?
Oh, now he’s got me listening to Jim’s whipping! How can I tune this out?! I have to work on editing Winter Memorandum James channeled yesterday. It is our new defining document.
“Don’t you give me this towel! What did you do with it? Wipe the floors?! And I told you to warm it up before you give it to me! Tell me how can I trust you, when you can’t trust yourself?”
Shady bromeliads, this is to no avail. I must get up and shut the door myself!
WINTER MEMORANDUM
of
MALACHITE CONSTELLATION
I I am to enjoy my life and receive pleasure from it.
II The garden caddy with a tape recorder in it, commonly known as “ego” IS NOT ALLOWED TO CONTACT ME UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
III Penalties will apply for trying.
4 Every attempt will be intercepted.
5 The dumb program will understand that we are surrounded by God.
6 The dumb program will understand that the rule is “good news only”.
7 The reason why I take control away from the machine and BACK to God, is because the machine was programmed to mislead me ON PURPOSE.
8 All it was ever programmed to do was to lead me into pain.
9 I want to be HAPPY, HEALTHY AND CALM. It is the only “want” that is my right.
10 The machine is programmed to make you afraid of things that do not exist, while tricking you into trespassing on truly dangerous territories (like breaking the Covenant that YOU SIGNED), and places where you should not be (like using Father’s Tool to talk too much).
11 INSTEAD of pointing to REAL infringements, the “ego” keeps you scared of NON-EXISTENT “problems” that are solved EASILY if YOU only ALLOW GOD TO CONTROL YOUR LIFE.
12 Therefore the dumb machine is stripped of authority to tell me ANYTHING. I am no longer under its stupid control.
13 Kriagir Dorilin. I AM FREE FROM THE FEAR-MONGERING program.
14 Inhale - Exhale. Look into Father’s Eyes. Hourly Affirmations Of Loyalty are to Father, not to the dumb robot.
15 Father is shining LIGHT in my life, and into my soul, where I used to lay nervous and fearful, controlled by the lies of a taperecorder in a garden caddy.
16 I am FREE from fear, because I no longer deal with it alone. My Creator and my Father is here to correct my mistake and raise me from the ashes of pain and sorrow.
17 With this Memorandum I claim IMMUNITY from ALL negative whisperings of the ego-program (for I no longer depend on its judgment).
18 “Ego-program” is a garden caddy with a tape recorder in it that I tried to worship instead of my Eternal Father. This is where all my pain comes from. I remember that before I listen to its permanently negative whisperings.
19 My life is perfectly fine ONLY WHEN I do not listen to the ego-program.
20 I say “shut up, ego” every time it tries to impose “its view”. I am not going to let the ego-program judge the situation that belongs to God.
21 I reduce my dependence on the machine by following Father’s rules and repeating the Three Gems.
If only because the ego is blind and stupid, and my Father is all-seeing and ultimately the wisest.
22 You are starting a new cycle of pain in your life every time you agree with “your” ego, or even pay attention to it. That would be about 40 times a minute. This is how many times a day you inject yourself with poison to keep yourself in this deplorable dream state. This is on Level 98 and lower. You must stay awake to watch yourself inject yourself with poison.
23 See “Ego-Programming Is Nonsense” on the most effective ways to stay awake.
EGO-PROGRAMMING
IS
NONSENSE
I Listen, the ego-program. You are a tape recorder inside of a garden caddy. You know nothing. You see nothing.
II I inhale, and I know, that I am fully protected by My Father.
I Exhale and i know that I am surrounded by love.
III If you try again to scare me, know, that your prisoner is no longer afraid. My Father is here, and He will comfort and reward me every time you want me hurt and frightened.
4 The machine makes up “mysterious third forces” that might harm me. This is nonsense. I am surrounded by God.
5 The machine is loaded with poisonous negativity. If I do not buy it, I will be perfectly happy and healthy. The only time when I’m NOT happy, is when I believe the whisper on the tape recorder.
6 Best-kept secret from myself: I charge the dumb thing myself. And I put new tasks and targets into it myself through protocol
ENERGY + REFERENCE = IMAGE
Where “image” is only a REFLECTION of the first two.
7 Once I slow down and wake up enough, I will be able to catch myself doing it and I will realize that EVERYONE IS WATCHING me trying to deceive myself into breaking away from Father.
8 The machine is programmed to seek weak spots in my defense and sabotage them through the following algorithm:
“look there - see something wrong - panic”
To break this chain:
Do not look there: Father is looking there.
If you caught yourself looking:
There is NOTHING WRONG. See only happiness and health, for Father is taking care of it.
9 Panic is ego-speak for “I am blind not to see God taking care of it RIGHT NOW.”
Remember that you are still asleep under the influence of the poison. This is not reality. This is a screwed up dream sequence.
10 Treat ego-voice like a pesky salesman: “We do not need anything! Goodbye!”
11 You dumb machine, quit trying to sell me fear for medicine. How is fear better than God?
12 The silliest lie: no one can see you. Nonsense. Father can clearly see me ALL THE TIME!
13 The machine OFFERS you THE MOST PAINFUL/SCARY TOPIC to chew on. This is how it gets more energy to continue torturing you.
14 You KNOW what it is doing. It is BRINGING YOUR OCULUM’s ATTENTION to a hurtful/scary issue that will torment you. SHUT THE DOOR ON THE MACHINE’s whispering.
15 Reason not to always think about hurtful/scary issues: IT IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS. Let Father take care of all that in your life. Your task is to apply effort TO KEEP THE OCULUM UNTOUCHED by pain and fear.
16 You need to know what you are up against: resist the harmful program, not those who love you.
17 You have ALREADY developed resistance towards the harmful program. You can defeat its logic. Do it.
18 The voice of the machine has nothing to do with your reality. There is no reason to rely on its advice, for its answers are pre-programmed.
For example, if you come to it with aches and pains it will tell you to freak out. It has no idea what is going on. It is a blind, dumb taperecorder.
19 The only Correct Way is the Way of the Original Source. Any other way, that is “yours”, is a waste of His energy.
20. See “How To Reroute Myself Back To Father.
HOW TO REROUTE MYSELF
BACK TO FATHER
THREE GEMS PROTOCOL
Ask Me, and I will redraw the landscape for you, so that your feet are met with the softest of grasses, and you drink from rivers of the sweetest of waters.
I Inhale - pull curtain on the mumbling program.
Exhale - Sheba gives me The Emerald with her lips.
II Inhale - See Me on top screen
Exhale - Blow sparkles of The Emerald onto your right hand:
Silicon-Hydrogen Bridgeplate comes up (it is green)
Recognize the protocol for what it is and tune out the machine based on that.
Inhale - Emeralds Of Loyalty
Down, left -Diamonds of Honor
Exhale - Sapphires Of Mercy
Your roots are in
Inhale - Magnificat
Exhale - Covenant
Magnificat that owns us,
And Covenant that we are.
Look at Me,
To your left:
Inhale - Your Grace is Diamond Lace,
To your right:
Exhale - Your Mercy is Sapphires,
Burning bright blue fires.
Your Anchor 1 is H.C./Hafnian (copy H.M.)
Your Anchor 2 is S. of Salem
END OF DOCUMENT
“So, James, tell me how you met Henry that fateful night in the Grey Building?”
I WILL GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS, for the lack of a better word, AFFLICTION!
“I will, Sheba, I promise!” James has this feverish look in his eyes, and his accent gets stronger when he is nervous or anxious.
Jim is squeezing something in his pocket as Hafnian finishes chewing on the cigarette, jumps, and disappears inside of Jim’s body, left side, flinger style.
The wind blows ashes out of the ashtray, left by Jim on the concrete pad of our backyard.
“I have to go now.” James says and casts a glance after a glance to the wind-disturbed curtains of the Royal Chambers.
The ashes fly through the air in a whirlwind as Jim steps through the curtains into Henry’s bedroom.
“What about all your intellectual property that you signed off to him? What about the black eye he gave you on your First Anniversary? Does that mean that you must look forward to TWO black eyes on your 2nd?”
“Jeez, I can only hope for this much attention...” Jim mumbles. “Sheba, listen...”
I listen. I listen well. But I hear zero common sense, and the voice of reason makes no sound, for it is silenced in Jim’s fucked up head!
All I hear is this rustling in his pocket. He is jittery, because he got paid for an interview in cash.
“I promise i will answer all of your questions!” He makes a few begrudging steps towards me and pecks me on the cheek. “But right now I must go.”
And he disappears behind the curtains.
Like a drug addict with his last dollar goes into the den to get his favorite drug, so does James Kellspell.
Only his drug is not a chemical.
It is a man.
A scuffle can be heard from the Royal Chambers.
“Get away from me, you dirty savage!” Henry’s hissing is overlapped by Kellspells’ begging whisper.
“Ten thousand dollars to sniff your butt, Henry, please! You smell so manly... You are most gorgeous, I must have you...”
Carlton’s ass might be on fire, but he does not sell it cheap.
If it is any consolation, I have a privilege to know the most expensive whore in Great Britain.
A new scuffle.
“Twenty thousand green ones to kiss your dick. Please, Henry... I’ll only touch the head... With my lips... I promise not to make it “homosexual” by taking it into my mouth. Henry, ple-ese... {indiscernible mumble, the sound of a hand landing on a face}
“Ow... Henry... Come on, please...”
Carlton either learned, or was taught not to put out too easily.
40 mins later of this, and the numbers announced get to sixty thousand dollars, and the noises indicate that...
Kellspell did achieve his goals.
Which were all of Henry’s holes.
Sorry... Honestly, it’s not me, it’s the poem-weaving app.
In another half an hour
I can hear them take a shower.
For those who just joined us, the darned poem-weaving app turns on all by itself.
Twenty more minutes, and at sunset of the last day of the year James walks through the curtains back into our bedroom with a deep bleeding scratch across his left cheek, a fat lip, a ripped shirt, empty pockets, and a blissful, satisfied smile on his face.
“Yess...” He says, falls into our bed face first and sleeps for two hours.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 102
Days Of Our Revival 4
“Instinct is a pre-recorded protocol you rely on when your boundaries are lost. You ALWAYS recorded it yourself prior to falling asleep. Because there is nobody else, but you and God.”
“Where is James?!” Henry steps inside with authority, but also with this demonic look in the deep, troubled depths of his eyes.
“He is in the bathroom, writing this letter he was told to write.” I respond. “Mr. Milgram is trimming hedges and Jim could not stand the noise. Apparently he can hear up to five times better than a regular human.”
“Great! Now I will demand five times as much from him!”
The large man crosses the space between the sliding back door, through which he entered, and the bathroom behind the bed in which I sit, in five gigantic greedy steps of someone who did not drink for three days, and suddenly found out where water is.
There, now I regret finding out about Jim’s own shameful DeVo. He can hear like a dog, and see in the dark like a cat. Better not spill THAT to Henry!
As if it is not obvious. James never turns on the light when he is alone. He does not need it. Yet, no one seems to pay attention to this.
There, screaming in the bathroom. Sounds of stuff being thrown about. My typical Henry and James. They fight, and then they fuck.
Yes, I can see Jim’s point. It is very easy to fall into Henry’s maelstrom of hunger for more, and never find your way back.
Question is: how many bruises are too many during that fall?
Wait, what is Henry hissing over there?
“Bad news are the good news, twisted by the ego to sell it to you as bad”? What is he on about?
Oh, no. This is going to bend Jim out of shape!
Two hours later Jim found out, that...
Wait, here is the recording.
“Friends, I have called this emergency meeting to discuss a matter that will take place four to six hours away, but if I allow things to happen the way H.M. wants it to happen, then we set in motion an unpleasant precedent. You are here to help me figure it out.”
Kyle nods, Lord Carlton remains unmoved, and James continues. Here he turns to me.
“And, My Sheba, in the minutes of our meeting, please note that we need to let Prince Moretr know that if allowed to proceed, the next very season, this precedent will create a financial problem that could have been avoided.”
“H.M. complains that driving is hard on him now. That is why he wants airtubes.”
It’s Henry with his five cents. Five shillings, gosh. A valid point, but he delivers it with such contempt and denouncement, that you care no more about its validity, but feel guilty for the very fact that you are not more pleasing to Lord Carlton.
But James is all over him now with the results of his observations. “That is true, oh my most wise and observant Henry! There are solutions to that, however. They are called “Project Flagstaff”, but i have no legal standing to bring it up!”
Carlton stands with some papers in his hands, suspicion and challenge flooding his essence, and spilling over through his penetrating, demonic eyes. He shakes his head, and now James is almost on his knees, explaining something continuously, as Kyle blows non-existent dust off Henry’s suit.
They play their happy theater, and the world ceases to exist.
As we all wait.
Our Premier/ Linked via “Demetra”, Mr. Rubinstein, AND Aunt Demetra herself appear in the doorway. James riled everyone up after what he heard from H.M. today.
“Moretr Industries “5 Minutes To Revelation.” What are your suggestions about the situation, Mr. Kellspell?”
Kyle Merritt suddenly grew the balls to interrupt both his Alpha, AND his beta.
Besides being Henry’s most faithful butler, he works as a representative of a TV hub part-time. I mean, wow.
Nope, my bad. Kyle did not grow any balls. There is a wire in his ear. He was instructed.
Well, James lost enough sleep over this logistics problem already. Let’s quit kissing Lord Carlton’s hands and arrive to a decision.
Groveling in front of Lord Carlton is embarrassing, but not more embarrassing than when I found James digging in Carlton’s hamper and sniffing his underwear.
“I suggest,” James breaks away from Henry, visibly upset to be dragged back into reality. “Either we keep Blue Moon and I drive half way, OR we land a fish tank in Project Flagstaff.”
Henry, dressed in a suit and shoes James spent two hours cleaning last night, is listening rather intently now.
“Conversely, if the issue of a deviation is not addressed, only in ten month’s time Blue Moon Palace will find itself with a $900 a month issue, and of very poor quality at that. I will submit to whatever decision this wise council comes to. I know you will be merciful towards my situation.”
Jim nods towards Premier, and Aunt Demetra. Prince Moretr and Lady Lion are watching. It is going to take time to deal with a complex issue. James has no way to take control over it within the dream sequence. He needs help.
The good thing is that we have RAISED the issue far enough in advance. It is always a good idea to start dealing with things early enough.
THE AFTERMATH OF THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY (and five years since Henry married James without his knowledge)
“And, um, if you sniffed that condom, you would not be able to smell any semen, because Henry can’t come this way.” James puts away a popular British magazine with an article about crystals in it.
“What about the crystals?” I ask. The pictures of amethysts ad quartz are very attractive.
James has gotten into my records and read about the incident with Kyle and Henry’s condom. He also found a popular British magazine in Henry’s possession, and was reading an article about crystals and their “healing power”.
Apparently going through each other’s personal effects without permission is just as popular of a pastime as it was when they only started living together.
You tell me where do I file this habit?
Under “mutual irreverence”, or under “daily affirmations of loyalty”?
“I could never get them to work.” He offers eagerly. “Not even quartz. And, seriously, SiO2, any idiot on Andromeda can reinforce silicon for communication. But I could never sequence it.”
Reinforce silicon for communication. Stuff like that is dropped by James left and right, and is never explained.
“And Henry can’t come while being on top.” I add.
“Yeah.” He responds monosyllabically, for his mind is already back in the magazine.
Yesterday we celebrated Jim and Henry’s First Anniversary together, and five years since Henry (with someone’s help, possibly Hafnian) drugged up James and married him while James was unconscious, in the inner yard of the Grey Building.
James remembers meeting Henry in his cell in the Grey Building, but he does not remember the ceremony.
In the morning of the anniversary Henry gave James a black eye for talking back.
I wanted to raise hell, but instead noticed how old and hunched I have become, used the Green Filament Bridgeplate to clear my mind, and took a bath.
What good does it do to conduct all these investigations, find out groundbreaking human rights violations, bring everyone’s attention to how poorly Jim is being treated, only to be ignored by the victim, too busy lusting after his abuser.
The evening of the Anniversary was filled with events, big and small, with many guests (some quite prominent), shamelessly placing thick envelopes of cash in front of Henry for a place on the Strobulus.
A gentleman I know quite well offered James the Arcnet. Again.
It was a symbolic repetition of their Dorilin Isvakar meeting, when this certain gentleman was the harbinger of Carlton-Kellspell Alliance that bound us all.
However “us all” have a lot to answer for.
Lord Henry Carlton, who binds us all, and inspires James in ways I can’t imagine, is for sure a man of low to non-existent moral atmosphere and a surface temperature of -300 C. With piercing-blue skies and gravitation seven times that of Earth.
This man would pimp out his own sister without thinking twice.
And James would help him.
Then he’d pimp out James, who, in turn, would suck a hundred dicks a day with a smile on his face just to impress his beloved Henry.
BOTH would stop at nothing to turn a buck. Both are shameless renegades. Too happy with themselves to even notice anything around.
Maybe I should stop being the holy roller and just join in.
A few others have come to the same conclusions. The crowd of Carlton’s followers is growing. Here is what happened last night.
“Sheba, make sure that nobody gets in.” James, needs his privacy with Henry.
Ten minutes later: “Sheba!!! Why is Mr. Milgram in our bedroom?”
Me, burdened by the logic: “He thinks he is nobody here. You told me to let that in.”
Mr. Milgram’s explanation: he is tired of living in a chicken coop behind the hedges and finally decided to serve Lord Carlton. Since Henry is notoriously unavailable as he greedily spends every minute with James, Mr. Milgram felt no choice but to just show up...
I don’t know if I can even mention it here, but Milgram is after Jim’s alternate female avatar. He admitted in an interview much later (I got it, though) that he would cross the River Styx for KRISTA. “Loved her long-suffering Russian soul”, and all that. “Often listen to the Russian songs in her head”…
Jim was APPALLED when he found out.
He is appalled every time he hears of YET ANOTHER secret admirer of KRISTA!
Lord Carlton, on the other hand, was ELATED when he found out. He is always thinking of ingenious ways to recruit new members into his personality cult.
And devout adepts of Krista’s beauty (like Mr. Rubinstein, Mr. Milgram, and maybe more, but mum’s the word) will have to come to Lord Carlton to get to her.
I think, everyone but Mr. Rubinstein.
“You wanted to join my “legion”? You can join it after you help me assemble it.” Carlton told James, referring to their FIRST CONVERSATION in the Grey Building.
So, immediately after getting the intel about Isaak Milgram’s secret crush (a shocker to all involved), Carlton sent James to the chicken coop across the lawn (this is all the exhausted mind of Mr. Milgram could muster for a dwelling, when he just arrived/fell from the sky), with the message, that Mr. Milgram can have James in any avatar conceivable, any {Greenwich} time (a schedule is possible to set up) if he agrees to serve Lord Carlton.
Milgram struggled with the offer for three days (it’s all about not wanting to lose your freedom), and showed up right as James was showering Henry with roses and wads of money, begging “just let me sniff your lovely butt.”
Mr. Milgram’s current low self-esteem helped open the door :).
Now, as far as I am concerned, freedom without money is but a misleading word for “homelessness”.
But freedom WITH money leads you even farther away from God.
THIS is something I do not care to experience ever again.
That is why I signed up for martyrdom.
But this record is stretched in time. I have not come to any of these conclusions yet. Where I am now, I’m still trying to come to terms with “nothing is ever good enough”. This attitude seems to be the best you can get out of a relationship with “your” ego.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 101
Days Of Our Revival 3
“Who are we? We are not a rogue squad.
We are the Shards of a Vase that is God.”
That has got to be Misty Shield. The blind singer of the Original Source. But I must cross-reference.
“If you ask for only a little bit of their attention at a time, you will get a lot more of it in the long run.”
Lord Henry Carlton.
Yeah, guess what. The man is not stupid.
“Yes, but then your boyfriend should not have to tell you to wash your armpits, James! And do you think about me? Do you know that I feel like Mowgli? Every morning I wake up in a nest of wolf hair!”
“He can’t help it...” Jim mumbles.
“But YOU can! When was the last time you brushed out your teacher?”
“About two weeks ago...” Jim is on our bed, half-dressed, needs to be ready for his class soon. “I just don’t have any time...”
He saves time on personal hygiene for himself and his teacher, who trusts him to do the right thing, and is completely dependent on James for his wellbeing.
The truth to the matter is, KYLE brushes out Hafnian. But Kyle can’t (and should not!) wash Jim’s armpits.
Jim leaves for his class with a bruised temple, because HENRY THREW HIM AGAINST THE WALL FOR NOT SHAVING.
It’s been over a week since the beating. Everything is supposed to heal quickly here, but sometimes I suspect that James slows the healing process down on purpose.
Now I begin to think that he just enjoys showing off Henry’s signs of attention.
He CHERISHES Henry’s attention no matter what form. As long as it is from Henry.
With this attitude I have an uphill battle on my hands trying to get Jim to see that he is in an abusive relationship.
Comes Kyle Merritt in rubber gloves, with a garbage can in his left hand, and a used condom in the other.
“I do not know if I should bring this to your attention...” Kyle starts with an apologetic smile and a clear desire to distance himself from what he had discovered.
“By all means, Mr. Merritt, thank you for getting off your holy high horse, and helping me investigate these Incredible Two! What all did you find?” I give Kyle a wide smile.
Lord Sedgefield on the background is seen rubbing Ian’s ass as they cook dinner together. Why are the walls of his apartment TRANSPARENT? Or is it me, now able to see through every pretense?
“I found a condom in my employer’s bedroom.” Kyle says very quietly.
Wow! Here is a piece out of the blue! James is protecting himself from his own mates now? Since when?
“Why would James use a condom?” I approach Kyle and want to examine that used condom.
Would I be able to tell Jim’s semen by smell? How about by taste? I torture myself endlessly by imagining James with every lover he ever had, but myself.
Is he with me? Why would this stud want to be with an old man like me?
“Who said it was Mr. Kellspell who used this condom?” Kyle’s face shows that he is very uncomfortable with his own snooping, but he may want to contribute to my investigation now that I’ve been at it ALONE for a year.
Or maybe, FOR ONCE IN HIS LIFE, after he witnessed this tremendous amount of violence, and his ex James Kellspell being sacrificed to the biggest arsehole of Great Britain, he also holds out for “WHY”.
“Henry is an omega.” I note thoughtfully.
“True. But look at this.” Kyle puts the condom back into the garbage can, and out he produces a box reading
“MAGNUM Large”
on it, gold on black.
Then he slightly raises his brows and gives me a meaningful look.
James barely fills size “Medium”, and only if he inhales and stays that way.
“Ok. Then Henry fucked James.” I conclude with a sigh.
Whatever. Still: why the condoms?
“Can I have this?” I stretch my hand for the box.
Kyle places the used condom into the box and gives it to me. “Could I kindly ask you not to implicate me in your investigation? I may lose my job over this and I need to pay for my mother’s accommodations.”
“Most certainly, Mr. Merritt. You are dismissed, if that is what you’re waiting for.”
Kyle bowes slightly and disappears back into Henry’s Royal Chamber, leaving me with the condom in question.
What are we to do with this mystery? Jim is not big enough for a large. Henry can’t top a man. And even if the latter decided to do so, why the condom is even in the picture?
So, I went to search Jim’s personal channel, and found gaps in recent history. Henry’s channel - same thing. Access denied.
What are they hiding?
Fine. I will find a way to blow this stand wide open.
I am high-ranking enough to confront Jim about it directly and not be afraid of repercussions.
When is Jim going to be back from his class?
So much happened, and I only had time to ask Jim about the condom by the evening of the next day.
“U-huh” Jim said after I told him everything I knew and showed him the box.
He was doing his chemistry homework.
“Which oxides are not fit for carbothermic reactions?” He raised his brows and gave me a meaningful look.
“Please don’t change the subject, Jim. Since when Henry tops you? And what is the purpose of a condom between you and him?”
“But then it was not me that Henry topped wearing that condom.” James pulled out Ellingham diagrams and proceeded to study them.
“Sodium and potassium!” He responds, his face bright above a heap of his chemistry homework. “Their oxides are not fit for carbothermic reactions!”
“James!”
“Kyle Merritt! Elementary, Watson! Henry is fucking my ex! When the whole Odessa was learning how to swim, he was learning how to piss on everything that smells like you, and fuck everything was ever dear to you, just to assert his dominance over you. And then he makes your ex put up a show with a condom and a garbage bin, to humiliate him, and YOUR CURRENT BEAU for your bitches right of passage. Thus sending EVERYONE a message that if you want MY man, you first have to pay ME.”
“WHAT?” I sit down on the bed, for my legs are suddenly made of cotton.
“Your strings are very easily sequenced, therefore, pulled. Henry knew that the first thing you will do with the rotten intel is TAKE IT TO ME.”
Oh... Just give me some time to process this. I humbly beg for just five minutes of complete mental breakdown, during which I go back in my mind to the scene with Kyle yesterday. He was INSTRUCTED TO SAY ALL THIS?!
Jim gets back to his chemistry with no visible signs of distress.
It helps to know what you are up against. I am still lagging behind in that department.
“How was I supposed to know?!” I eventually breathe out, wondering what to think in this endless theater of appearances. Where James is really good at knowing who is under what mask and why, and, I, apparently, am not.
“Kyle is a faithful omega. I’ve been with him long enough to learn that. He would never consciously betray his Alpha. Currently (and they both hope, for a long time to come), HENRY is his Alpha. So, if Kyle came to tell you stuff about Henry, be rest assured Henry was the one who sent him.”
Another five minutes worth of me choking on all this. Henry sent Kyle to let me know that he had Kyle for lunch, and I’m next?
“But Henry has an omega card.” I say very quietly. Just when I thought I learned EVERYTHING about Lord Carlton, the Hammersmith bastard throws me a curve ball.
Yet, a pro-active aggressive move for territorial imperative is just not the omega behavior.
Oh, it hurts so. Kyle showed up TO POSE A MYSTERY, for ME TO RETELL THIS TO JAMES, for James to know right away what REALLY happened.
Kyle was slapped to slap me so I could slap James.
What a fresh, avant-garde way to let your partner know who is boss.
Only Henry is not supposed to be this way. He is an omega.
“Apparently where is will, there is way. And Henry is very smart, and a quick learner.” James gets up and starts a cigarette. “What is past is prologue, my Sheba. Tell me better into what element lithium was transmutated during the first man-made reaction?”
See, I know it’s helium. But only from Uri Kumlatov’s lectures on Returning Back To The Original Source, or “pulling back the Shards of the Broken Vase”.
It does not count when you break something apart. Any idiot can cause entropy. It only counts when you can slow it down, and revert the process.
Lithium went BACK into helium.
Awakening is GOING BACK to the way you were BEFORE you shattered yourself, BEFORE you fell asleep and dreamt of being SHATTERED.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 100
Days Of Our Revival 2: Henry’s Sacrifice
“I will do what is most convenient for you.”
James to Henry.
When?
Pretty much every time.
Let’s roll back the tape.
A week ago, right before the interview with “5 Minutes To Revelation”, the 6”2 Henry punched the twink of Jim, picked him up, and threw him.
So hard, that Jim flew over our bed and hit the door with his shoulder and head.
This is what Henry told James, who was bleeding on the floor out of his right temple, when he got around the bed to face him:
“You are to adore and worship me. And you are to do it only when clean, properly dressed, behaving appropriately, following all the rules. Is that clear? Now, get up and shave. You have ten minutes to correct your mistake.”
And this scene at the nighttime backyard a few days later (Jim was still nursing his right shoulder):
“I demand excellence in performance, James. This is your M.O. from now on. When in doubt, fall back on that. You have entered my world. I own you now. You will live and breathe by my rules.”
And Henry’s rules are the rules of his father. His father, who told him that he was not going to have a homosexual son. Forcing Henry to make a choice between his nature and his parents.
He could not disobey his father.
So, he hated the world for the rest of his life for seeing it only through the bars of his cage. Through the doors of his closet.
He drowned in his bitterness a thousand times over, and he followed his father’s rules to keep him together.
They are not bad rules. Enforced in the most cruel of ways, yes. But I live by similar ones.
Only I don’t get thrown against a wall for not shaving. On the other side, I would never let myself be as loose as James. His personal habits are wild, and his hygiene is that of a backwoods bear from Montana. If he is planning to live with Lord Carlton IN LONDON...
Yet, is Carlton justified in being so violent?
“Run from this tyrant, James!” Everything in me screamed in the beginning.
But now, a year worth of going through Jim’s personal Arkchil records, I know that there is no one but the Mighty Daffodil Of Hammersmith, who can straighten up the rogue trainwreck of James Kellspell.
And we need him straightened up. Or no one is entering The Pearly Gates tonight.
A large diamond he is, Jim Kellspell. But a diamond in the rough needs tools to polish it.
It is not pretty, but someone has to do it. Then whoever polishes that diamond successfully, gets to have it. This is what, basically, Lord Carlton is telling me.
He’s got a lot invested into Jim and he’s got his parents’ tickets to Paradise depending on how quickly he can wake Jim up.
I understand him, I agree with him. But does his desperation justify his horrific methods?
If I say “yes”, because I ALSO want the Awakening To Nirvana as soon as possible, then I’m justifying domestic violence.
If I say “no”, I will get trampled down by the millions of Lord Carlton’s supporters all across Andromeda.
Plenty watch our show. They don’t believe a word Jim is saying. They abandoned the thought of Awakening, but they watch our show to see what believers actually look like. And they all approve of Lord Carlton’s methods. For they, too, long for God, and do not know how to get back to Him.
From Jim’s interview to “5 Minutes To Revelation” of Moretr Infustries:
“As you all know, it took Henry and I four long years to earn our right to become an item. In exactly 18 days it will be one year since Henry and I had moved in together.
I am glad to announce, that it has so far been the best year of my life. Thank you for supporting us through thick and thin. Henry is so worth your attention.”
“The best year of my life” ?!!
THIS VERY INTERVIEW HAD TO BE POSTPONED BY TEN HOURS because the Arkabin doctors had to deal with Jim’s injuries caused by the very partner he praised.
I am so conflicted, so confused.
Another scene that torments me so. That was about a month ago, when Lord Sedgefield arrived into his apartments.
“You will learn to walk on the leash, and you will follow my commands, do you understand, James?!”
Jim is on his knees in front of Henry, in the backyard. Being slapped by Mr. Large Heavy Hand.
James was found drunk without permission, and Henry’s wrath was as predictable, as it was explosive.
He, then proceeded to hit Jim across his face and pulled him by his collar upwards, off the concrete pad.
Jim moaned and went limp in Carlton’s powerful grab.
Carlton’s cruelty towards James is truly infinite and boundless.
And he never listens to me.
Yet, I am the one who is left to pick up the pieces. I am the one applying tea bags to his black eyes, I am the one to lay beside an injured mate, moaning in his sleep, tossing and turning, laying awake at night because his boyfriend threw him against the wall and dislocated his shoulder.
The point I’m making is that ON LEVEL 1 Jim would not survive 2 out of every three beatings. He would literally be DEAD at least three times a month. It is this often and this brutal.
Their relationship according to James:
“This was the best year of my life.”
“Henry is such a gentle, loving partner.”
“James, tell me most honestly: do you really want to spend the rest of your life with Henry Carlton?”
“No!” He responded with a bright smile.
He gets jittery, antsy and excited EVERY TIME Henry’s name is mentioned.
No? I held my breath.
“I want to spend the REST OF THE ETERNITY with him.” He gives me the proudest, most satisfied look. “And with you, too, my Queen Sheba!”
Oh, my head... it is boiling.
But my heart is melting.
“Queen Sheba”? Yes, so deep inside.
It’s been so long since I hoped for any understanding.
But anything is possible with a large Lantern of Faith, like my mate Jim Kellspell.
Light me up, then.
Make me believe it again.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 99
Days Of Our Revival 1
“Faith is knowledge,
Knowledge is “how”.
“How” is science.
Therefore, faith is science.
All you need to figure out, then, is “how”.
That’s when God comes in.
That is what He is for in your life.”
From Jim’s lecture “To The Andromedans”
That lecture was full of fire. I can’t disclose the names of the Grehedis he gave it to, or on whose territory it took place. Leot’s mind searches ALL UNPROTECTED data, all the time. Last month, just before we were whisked away to the Malachite Constellation, there were two attempts on Jim’s life. And in the first case they did not even care about the collateral damage. His young son H.M. was with him then.
Ahem. So much happened. So many conclusions, grief, confusion, love. Never forget love, or your Jug Of Life is not balanced right. There is no point drinking the rest of its everyday bitterness if you did not add love to it.
I agonize about revealing my personal life here.
I feel that I must, though.
Once Jim accepted who I really was, we needed to renew our vows.
Henry, who is in control of just about everything in Jim’s life, had arranged for a simple ceremony. He chose a wedding dress for me. I was ok with that. I better get used to the man in charge in my life.
Neither one of us can handle Jim alone. I better remember that. But Henry will always be Number 1 in Jim’s life.
I have no choice but to admit that Lord Carlton is simply a bigger queen than me. And she’s got it all planned out and taken care of, while I just poke around like a day-old lamb.
Oh, and I “let that savage get away with too much”. Savage, meaning James.
This is what Henry thinks of my methods.
I might not approve of HIS methods, but the sonofabitch is incredibly effective in reigning in my James. Ahem, OUR James.
Next scene, My wedding is coming:
James, who did not know what was going on, is approached by stately Henry:
“I will be your best man tomorrow!”
Jim, raising his brows with an adoring smile: “Aren’t you always?”
Next day James was in the middle of an impromptu conference with Uri Kumlatov, when I was walked in by Henry in my wedding dress, and photographs taken of a shocked, but smiling Jim.
His schedule is that tight most of the time. Things may be heating up. Andromeda needs its Prophet. And Uri must train him in everything Jim is going to need to know in his new life on Andromeda.
One part of me is terrified about Jim’s fate, but the other one knows that it is not our team that will be intercepted by Leot.
Another man will take Jim’s place. Another team will reach the United Wells Territories Of Anlor 50 min years prior to present day. Anlor planet will be renamed Arzadellin after a human Prophet martyred there.
“Oh, like blood the air still smells
Where you took me down at United Wells.”
These are lines from Misty Shield’s song about The Prophet Arzadellin, euthanized by Zdezar Arkana on Leot’s orders.
Only my James was not the Arzadellin intercepted by Leot’s Forces.
MY James was whisked away by a Sheiredi Project Strobulus.
THIS Arzadellin will never be captured at the United Wells. And I thank God for it every day. We are not even going to Andromeda proper.
Jim showed me the map. It’s some Magellanic Cloud right underneath the Galaxy Of Andromeda. It is not Leot’s territory there.
The old man can’t start a war there, but he can still try to take Jim out. He is wise to multiple copies. He will erase plenty of them. But we are the ones who will get away.
And I think all that as Jim smiles at me, and kisses my lips as my bride’s veil gets in the way.
But above all of that there is a hexagonal screen with Commander Kumlatov on it. His large Sheiredi eyes are crying.
Not because of my wedding day, no. Right now he is only 2,5 parsecs (7 light years) away from us, on the outer orbit of the Strobulus, but his mind is back on Andromeda.
His mother started a civil war that claimed many a martyr, including his sister Utolika of Sheiredis and himself.
He is constantly searching for a way out of conflict, the least painful for both sides, and God.
And he sees none.
And here are the cute little fags getting married. With “NOT homosexual” as the best man.
With Kyle across the isle.
“Can’t take any more mates? Ok, that’s fine,
Watch me, then, take a CONCUBINE!”
Jim, about Kyle. :).
“...and remember, my most gorgeous Queen Sheba, it’s never the twins...” Jim gives Henry a wink. “And the ego never wins!”
Simple rules to live by.
We kiss in front of the Arkchils, James rolls his eyes upwards in a blissful expression, and smiles.
Next morning.
Ahem... Early riser. A sudden one, too.
Merion’s daughter Mielada (Level 1) needed Jim’s help with the test. Mielada is the closest Jim will ever have to his own child. Not that he ever wanted one.
Anyway, on Level 1 Hafnian, Henry and me sleep in one body, Jim’s. All together in one pod. Forever united.
Level 2 of sanity (so, wake up one frame from Level 1, get it?)
Jim had a session with Prince Moretr only two frames away. This is how they measure distance between you and someone else. By “time frames”. Um, and “Hexagons of liquid time”. Maybe that is one and the same thing.
“Anger” and “Grudge” are my current default response settings, my Prince!” Jim is on his bed on Level 1, going through his recent behaviour mistakes. “So, it is my current ego-imposed default (DEFAULT! Meaning - without thinking!) answer to ANYTHING H.M. has to say to me! My settings are SO OFF that I basically leave him no choice but to listen to HIS ego to bring me down with thunder and lightning! Ohh! THIS IS HOW I PROGRAMMED MYSELF TO HURT MYSELF!!! By tying myself up to an ego-robot with too high aggressive response setting, for one, and when H.M. is pissed, “YOUR” stupid dumb EGO tells you: “See how he is?! Turn up the volume! Find harsher words to answer him!”
James takes a break, looking at Moretr with the relief of someone who pulled out a big and a deep splinter.
“Well, fuck you, EGO!” His fiery glance, captured by the original Six Arkchils, is re-broadcasted, stretched in time, with Moretr’s face fading away, for those who helped James conquer “his” ego, and put an end to Pain, are not to be revealed yet.
They have to face Leot every day on THEIR Level 1 (so, they are Level 11), and it ain’t pretty. “Your” ego is not pretty. Why are you still with it, then? Because you simply do not know any better.
I begin to sound like James. It is our only second year together. Historical times. The times to which we will be coming back both in our records, and in our memory.
These are the days of our revival. This is where Moretr, channeling the Original Source, placed the seeds of Faith into our grief-overwhelmed souls.
Whew, I just saw Leot’s faint data on my bridgeplate. He is searching ALL available records to see where his downfall started.
He wants to know how he got infected with the Seed of Desire To Unify With God, which caused his eventual Awakening all the way to Level 99.
He thinks Utolika The Elder did it. He will blame his best friend Zdezar Arkana for yielding to Arzadellin’s pervasive power, he will blame Pelargoniums for their games in Anlor that channeled The Original Source, he will blame Thermopolis for helping them.
And even Kallitris (AE) for sleeping with Zdezar (hence the Sheiredis).
But he will never know that it was Ari who started it. Or, rather, it was Leot who allowed his heart to love ANYONE. And if only by one grain of rice, he loved Ari more than himself.
This is what woke him up eventually. Love.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 98
Real things (istinnoye) can’t be stolen.
If you think it was stolen -
Then it wasn’t real.
Or, it was never stolen.
Sheiredi proverb
“He had a female, but otherwise gorgeous body.”
Classic James, about one of his transgendered lovers.
What is “the darkest hour” for so many now, is always “the dorkiest hour” for us. Listen to this.
“James, they say you are a good translator. Can you translate “they divorced” to the language of thermodynamics?”
“Yes! Here it is: “the entropy of their reaction was too high”.
“What about “my wife left me for another man.”?
“Spallation of the atom.”
This is what I do for fun. I ask my mate Jim Kellspell questions like that. A sure way to get through “a writer’s block”, if nothing else.
And today is Wolf Hafnian’s birthday. He is 55. He is devastated about it. However, he does not feel age in his wolf form, therefore he is simply much happier this way. He knows his student will take care of everything else. So he supports James with everything he’s got.
Two days later. Jim finds out his aunt died. Zoya, his father’s older sister. She was 90.
The same day I came out to him. As if I could not wait till the day after. But I could wait no longer. I did it as soon as the p/h balance of his soul reached the point where he would accept my secret without rejecting me.
You should have seen his face.
Then, he said he’d love me even more, knowing the person that I am on the inside. My suspense is over. Now I know that I can be fully his.
Four days later.
“So, I put the “whiny kid raps” into the machine before I fell under it. 40 times a minute this thing turns on with your custom-made whining of the moment. There is a billion different ones, which creates the illusion of “unique nature of your pain”. Which is bullshit, because no matter how different your circumstances may be, your template remains the same!”
“ Yeah, the “I was wronged” template.” I venture. “Insert your own “how”. Then throw that accusation in the Face of God. Get angry when He asks you not to do it. To you as a PERSON - you were clearly wronged, yes. Only not by God. As a spirit, you were thrown into a fight in the car wash, where it is impossible not to get hurt. Then you blamed God, since there is no one else. And you can’t figure out why He is hurt now. You need to wake up and remember how you set Him up. That will explain all your stupid grudges. Had you not fallen asleep with an intention to wake up in the middle of a fight in the car wash, you would have never felt the pain you are now blaming God for.”
“Wow! My Queen Sheba is making a great spiritual progress!”
U-huh. I have been going through every single available record on his personal Arkchil channel for a year now. I have seen a lot. I have learned a lot.
Watching the movie of Jim Kellspell’s life will demand an achievement of a certain spiritual level.
Two days later. I barely have any time to write these days.
Sometimes Jim is pleasant, and other times I have to rush to the classroom to the sounds of the gunshots.
And I never know if I find James on the floor bleeding. He knows he can’t kill himself on Level 1, so he lets ‘er rip here.
I approach the door of the classroom very quietly, and I wonder if I heard 16 shots, or 17.
The silence in the classroom can mean a number of things.
It could be that there were only 16 shots, and he is only waiting for me to enter so that he could shoot himself with the last bullet left.
Or, he spent all 17 and is reloading.
Or, he already shot himself.
A heavy hand on my shoulder indicates that I was not the only one contemplating the silence.
Two more Arkabins appear down the hallway.
“My dear Sheba, why don’t you go back into your headquarters (ahem, it’s our bedroom he means), and see how you can help Dr. Michael comfort his Matushka. She is new here, not used to deafening gunfire indoors.”
With my heart pounding I must go back. If Jim shot himself, there is no need for me to see him, and it will take the Arkabins a few hours to bring him back.
We are on the Strobulus. Anything can be fixed on this vessel of United Effort to end the war on Andromeda.
The next day.
Dr. Michael came down from his apartments early. For no one in his family slept last night.
Lord Sedgefield and Ian probably were not bothered by gunfire, because they are with Henry. Meaning, they are used to them psychotic bitches.
But Dr. Michael... He is not here to “get used” to the disorder. His lovely tender soul will not rest until he calls us all in general, and James in particular, to order.
“Emeralds Of Loyalty, Diamonds Of Honor, and Sapphires Of Service. You swore your allegiance to these holy symbols of our revival, James. Which one of those includes shooting into a photograph of a writer more successful than you?”
Oh, that is what he was doing. Sixteen rounds into the photograph, taped to the blackboard, I’m sure. I wonder which “more successful” writer?
“I sank because I drank...” Jim mumbles.
The poem-weaving app kicks in all by itself in the most challenging of circumstances.
I would laugh. Sometimes I just snicker inside. Not for the subject matter, far be it from me, but for the brilliant way it was written.
Now, having gotten over my fear of losing Jim to his depression and violent outbursts, I can watch his inventions at work.
Tomorrow I will freak out again. But today, yours truly catches a break.
“Do you know what that did to Deborra last night? I had to put her back on her medication.” Dr. Michael leaves no stone unturned. And he does not need to make up anything to shame James back into submission.
“I am so profoundly sorry, my most wise Older Brother.” James is in bed, his face is crumpled and unshaven. I could say that in the dim light of a rainy MORNING AFTER it really shows his age.
But he does not care about that.
“Your patience should have no expiration date, James. It is the only way to achieve anything in this world.”
We are surrounded by sages!
When am I going to start talking like that?
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 97
OUR STRUGGLE TO REMEMBER
THE RULES OF LOVE
“Act as if time does not exist.
And it does not.”
From Prince Moretr’s
10 am Briefing
Lord Sedgefield has arrived with his lovely spouse Ian. They are one month shy of coming on Christmas Eve, like they did last year.
They were planning to arrive on Ian’s birthday (on that day an illusion panel was placed to create a spacious apartment for them), but ended up arriving two days before the 17 th year anniversary of Jim’s father’s death.
Here is Jim in our bedroom (Level 2, Strobulus), while standing in The House Of The Blue Moon (Level 1), observing Lord Sedgefield holding Ian’s hands in the hallway of their newly attached apartment (it became superimposed on House’s driveway, it’s large hall opening beginning at the (and through) House’s kitchen wall.
Basically, every time we exit Jim and H.M.’s bedroom, the opening to Lord Sedgefield’s apartment would be to the left, through kitchen wall right before the fridge.
If you look at it while on Level 2, their apartment will be superimposed on the backyard lawn (where Mr. Rubinstein’s cherries are, and into which Isaak Milgram crashed out of the sky this past winter).
It would have the Michael family apartment to its right (Dr. Michael’s is elevated, though, because Matushka wanted a good view, and James spared no expense lifting the apartment by adding the illusion panels for the view their precious Matushka wanted), and Henry’s Royal Chamber to its left.
Anyway, heck, explaining EVERYTHING is a chore, but the world that we think we know is, in fact, only the drums of the orchestra at best, and every other instrument is superimposed on the other. I feel like an ant trying to explain the world of humans to other ants, having returned from the city... :).
This arrangement begins to remind me a flower.
The middle of the flower is our bedroom. With three petals so far: to the left is Henry’s den staffed with Capt. Christopher and Kyle, to the right, above, like a watchtower, is Jim’s most treasured and IRREPLACEABLE “older brother” Dr. Michael, and now right in the middle, our most respected and experienced Lord Mark Sedgefield.
Most respected, but not the oldest. Kyle is the oldest so far, and he used to mop about it, until he got into service and saw the transforming power of forgetting your own wounds to care for someone else’s.
In other words our lovely James is surrounded by virtue, carefully watched over by it, and can’t jerk off “his” ego anymore.
He also has to behave, take shower and change his underwear. It’s like he was put on the amphitheater stage, with guardians on every bleacher, tasked with nothing but keeping him straight.
Figuratively speaking. For my Jim is gay.
He is also, My Goodness, a pig.
Yeah... Get this! He would not change the sheets on our bed for three weeks, and when I’d bring it up, he’d just sweep crumbs, hair, sand and stuff on the floor with his hand, that peasant savage.
More so, he’d do it right before he invites THE WOLF into the bed. As if his teacher just did not spend the whole afternoon SLEEPING OUTSIDE!
Now, “my” ego would tell me “See, he likes you THE LEAST of all his mates!”
But now I know better than listening to it.
He just knows me THE LEAST amount of time.
Where was I going with it? Man, I have a lot of wounds, too. Tons of wounds no one cares about.
Best remedy for your wounds? Care about someone else’s wounds. Thank you, Mr. Merritt.
So I just started changing the sheets myself.
Sometimes Kyle helps me. What a nice, decent gentleman he is. Just exactly like Jim described him. “Twice my age on the outside, twice as young and fragile on the inside.” As James summarized Kyle Merritt’s personality.
Yes, James is crazy busy between the underage H. M., his duties with Prince Moretr, and his studies. Plus Henry.
Henry greedily drinks up every drop of free time James has. And soaks up his attention, too. James is to Henry what rain is to a parched flower in the desert.
Then Jim grooms Henry, and brushes his eyelashes with his lips, and gets chased and scratched when his Angorran needs to exercise and sharpen his claws.
And I sit there and watch them.
This is how you become a martyr for love. No need for a whip or the gallows. They just make you watch a reality show, in which Love gets tested beyond what you think you could ever imagine witnessing, and affirmations of loyalty are required daily, and in blood.
The other day Kumlatov could not make it, and Jim came back here instead of his chemistry class.
Lord Carlton immediately grabbed him before James could even have a cigarette, and told him to do his laundry.
So, in the hall, where our washing machine is, Jim stood and unloaded Henry’s shirts, socks and gloves from the hamper.
And then Carlton made Jim sniff every single pair of his underwear before putting it in the washer.
“Henry, oh, Henry.” Jim mumbled while burying his nose in Carlton’s dark-blue boxers and rubbing himself through his pants. “Oh, you peed just a bit into these... Love the smell. See, this is where your dick laid after you were done peeing and put him away... Right here, these drops are the sweetest.”
That, for about half an hour.
Then, the same, as they pulled the laundry out of the washer and into the dryer.
Star-crossed lovers, lost in their own world, full of amazing discoveries and lush sexual fantasies.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 96
THE PRICE OF YOUR OWN OPINION
“Your personal opinion is the MAIN TRIGGER that the ego uses to lead you into the conflict.”
From Prince Moretr’s
10 am Briefing
Gap
;
“My Most Beloved and Most Resplendent Henry! I need to lose about 100 more pounds of karmic weight (mostly of my own opinion) to be light enough to get to your Tower.
But I love you more than my life, and Hafnian loves you more than cigarettes. Which he definitely loves more than his life.
We are getting closer. Here is Mr. Rubinstein with an explanation of how I feel in his song “I Am Your Man”. I will make sweet love to you tonight after work.
Henry’s answer:
“I require IMPECCABLE personal hygiene IMMEDIATELY upon your arrival, James. I am aware that English is not your native language, therefore I urge you to look up the word “hygiene”.
I cannot, however, leave that word to your interpretation. It is remarkable how twisted that notion gets in your mind.
Therefore I must take this time to spell it out for you. You are to present yourself thoroughly washed, clean shaven, your teeth brushed thoroughly, clean underwear, white shirt, black socks.
I will inspect your hands. Your nails are to be as clean as the day you were born. You are not to touch me until you have passed my inspection.
You are to recite me these rules every morning until you understand what they mean.
Hafnian is to sleep on the floor until you brush him out like you should.
To Mr. Rubinstein: thank you, sir.”
From Prince Moretr’s 10 am Briefing:
“When the dumb machine starts scaring you with negative stuff, think REWARD.
Look what a poor owner the machine is: it never runs the CONCLUDING, CLOSING PROTOCOL.
For example: you talk to Merion, and leave the garage with a lighter in your hand that you took from H.M.’s workbench drawer (not yours), and you left the RW container on his workbench (yours, not supposed to be in the open).
When ALL THAT is fixed, because, AT THE LAST MOMENT, you decided to consult Me before running away from there, you are despaired to see your dressing gown on the red folding chair. You would have forgotten that, too!
It’s like: what haven’t I forgotten, misplaced, left behind, while mindlessly walking away with SOMEONE ELSE’S item in my hand?
The machine is NOT set up TO HELP.
Only to MESS THINGS UP.
The ego will never remind you of what you REALLY need, but it will eagerly push you into a fight with H.M. over “taking too much authority in the kitchen”.
Heavily leaning INTO a conflict OUT OF common sense, Mr. Kellspell?”
“I get it...” James is clearly embarrassed.
“And then the machine urges you to attack.... ANYONE WHO IS NEXT.
The machine will push you into conflict. Always. No matter what, it will seek to confuse your MORAL COMPASS to get you to choose conflict. Something you would never do had you not been so deeply asleep to My Rules.
It uses various techniques to achieve its impossible task! It says: “You need to be heard! Express your opinion! You are the only one who knows the truth! So, it is your responsibility to correct EVERYONE!”
And you take the bait! YOU MUST TELL THEM!
No. You “must” do NOTHING.
Positive ONLY! Be what you want to see in others! What is wrong with ALWAYS BEING SWEET? Because you must rub your precious smart opinion into everyone’s face?
When the ego pushes you to be heard, it NEVER MENTIONS THE PAIN YOU CAUSE BY THAT. So, unless the opinion is POSITIVE, you are not allowed to say anything.
All negative things are repeated after the machine. This is where you get this bullshit.”
“Oh, and then it said: hurry up to let Merion know your opinion! Your window of opportunity is getting smaller and smaller!”
Prince Moretr nods as James re-tells him what he heard from “his” ego on “how to conduct a conversation the “ego way”.
“I thought: wait a minute! If I satisfy this urge, I will be in violation of two rules at once:
1. Do not use Father’s Tool (your speech), unless absolutely necessary;
and
2. Good news only.
Once I saw that the ego’s suggestion lead into a conflict, I turned into an apolitical jelly fish with no firm belief or standing.
“My” ego did its best trying to rile me up with phrases like “but they need to be told how to do it right!” and even “Merion needs a lesson in humility, and it is your job as your best friend to give him this lesson!” But it could not get me to do a thing. I was a jellyfish. I did not give a shit about any of it.”
Prince Moretr gives Jim a reassuring smile.
And you should see Henry with his eyes in his bridgeplate like some fans watch their favorite football team. He is in his bedroom... Excuse me, his Royal Chambers...
... the joints of his fingers grow progressively whiter as he clenches the armrests of his red plush chair
... mumbling “Now there is a hefty stack of rules I can hit him with!”
Lord Carlton never loses a chance to solidify his poison with James. Henry no longer has legal power over him since we ALL were acquired by Levin Corp, but he can learn the rules and force James to follow every single one of them to a tee.
As long as His Lordship gets to lord over his James.
“Upon hearing all that I remembered that “ego” is just a dumb garden caddy with a tape recorder in it, and I am asleep.”
Here comes the most important one.
“So, I remembered The Key, and applied it to the unfortunate dream sequence where “our” egos were trying to get me and Merion to fight. I woke up to Your Face, and my desire to express any opinions was drowned by....”
He is to say “my love for You...”
But instead he says:
“...my overwhelming love for my Lord Henry Carlton.”
Prince Moretr nods, however. It is ok to love someone very much. You might not be able to love God just yet, but your next step away from “your” ego is surrendering to someone other than your ego.
The Key to awaken to the Face of God is to “know that it is real”. Once you KNOW FOR SURE that it is real, you will fall for it. Meaning: you will either fall asleep deeper than where you already are (“Escaping Proximity”), or Awaken (towards Father, “Original Source”), or “from the depths to the surface of the Ocean”).
The trick is to know the difference between “I know for sure”, and “my ego told me”.
If you get ALL your info from “your” ego, you will never awaken to what is hurting you, that simple.”
Oh, not even two days and a thousand events and conclusions later this situation is not letting me go.
“You are a very intelligent man, James.” I begin, placing my hand on his shoulder as he passes by, getting ready for his chemistry class with Uri Kumlatov.
“I gave my Ring of Intelligence to my teacher.” Jim notes nonchalantly with a charming smile, and reaches out for my lips. “In the wrong hands it is nothing but trouble.”
Yes, we know that. That is why you are on every self-respecting Andromedan TV hub. You are the first entity that they know of to have willingly surrendered a chunk of an Amatrix the size of Leot’s orbiting station.
“What I’m saying is, your princess in the tower, your damsel... I mean your Lord Carlton-in-distress has clear plans to use and abuse you, and you are oblivious to that!”
“Can we talk about it later?” Another tobacco-fragrant kiss. Between Hafnian and Jim I have disturbing dreams of working at a tobacco factory. I mean, literally, I sleep between them. Anyway...
Hafnian! He truly IS a great teacher to all of us. Let’s try his imploring look when he wants a cigarette from James.
“Oh, all right!” Jim can’t handle it when one of his omegas wants something. The well-being of his harem (and his young H.M.) is his first priority.
A wolf strategy has worked. Time to employ cat’s strategy. DeVo is nothing fun, but it has its moments. Pounce when they least expect it.
“This is how I see it, James. I will be brief.
You: Oh, my Princess, I am going to get you out of your confinement!”
This princess of yours responds thusly: “You must shower, wear your best (clean!) clothes, and here are my conditions. Oh, and the list of my demands. So you don’t act like i never told you!” Ahem, what kind of love is that? And then you come home and H.M. gives you exactly the same list of demands! Where do you get to be yourself?”
You know what he answered before he skedaddled to his class? Get this. I kid you not:
“If you are planning to go to Mars, you shall not complain about the weather in the Arctic.”
I pondered that all day. Why would you WANT to go to Mars?
Evening.
“James, you keep talking about “going to Mars”. Tell me why?”
He looks at me with a serene smile, drunk on his ass. Henry lets him get trashed once a week, if he earns it.
Today is that day of the week. James drips love on any given day, but when drinking, his sexual desire is totally unbridled.
“Samuel, my sweet mate, we just celebrated one year together!” He lifts the bottle and stretches his lips in my direction. And I respond.
I’d throw myself under a train for him. Let alone take off my pants.
“I know that, James, but not exclusively. Somewhere between then and now you celebrated four years together with your teacher Wolf Hafnian, five years with Henry, thirteen years with Dr. Michael, thirty years since you and Kyle first met, and FOURTY TWO YEARS with Merion...”
He raises his brows in a really funny manner, and looks at me downwards. He responds like that to H. M.’s temper tantrums.
He is trying to turn it into a joke. But I’m not amused. I need to get to the bottom of this.
“I’ve only known you for a year! What right do I have to criticize your feelings for Lord Carlton? You are both adults and you lasted THIS LONG sniffing each other’s underwear on a five-year stint of ravaging greed for each other’s company, when all of our future is in balance! I knew couples who divorced much earlier than that. And over way less at stake.”
“I can tell you’ve been drinking, too, Samuel...” He hugs me and then tries to get into my jeans with his hand free of the bottle.
I knew I was not entitled to be answered. The attempt to laugh it off did not work, so he just switched the subject.
And yes, I have been drinking. AND smoking all Jim’s cigarettes.
I am not made of steel, and every day is an incredible nerve-racking trial, although it does not look like we do anything at all!
And these two seem to energize from each other.
These two feel no fatigue, no pain. And the only hunger they have is for the other’s attention. And the thirst they experience is only and ever for the other’s affirmations of bondage.
I can’t call it “friendship”. I can’t in my right mind call it “love”. But it is bondage.
There, I got it. Mutually Enjoyable BONDAGE is what these who clowns have. Pardon me, three clowns. Hafnian is never far away.
What do I do?!
All I do is go through Jim’s personal Arkchil channel and compare records.
All I do is resent my past, envy someone else’s present and fear everyone’s future.
“So, why are we in training to go to Mars, Mr. Kellspell?”
He gives me another wet kiss.
“Because my love is stuck there, that’s why!” He exclaims with the bottle high in the air, and his smile turns jubilant.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 95
How to forever figure out what “disappointment” is, and how to avoid it easily.
“Avoid disappointment!”
“Patrick Melrose”
Whether he loves or whether he hates
Kellspell is nothing without his mates.
I wrote that via Jim’s poem-weaving app, and Jim laughed and nodded approvingly when he read it over my shoulder as he was on his way to placate Henry.
From Lord Henry Carlton’s private channel, his explanation to me about what happened on Andrew’s Bday:
“I hit him, yes. He had it coming! I receive excellent service, because I demand excellent service! Do you understand that, Samuel? James Kellspell will not disappoint me! He will provide the service I require, or else!”
Ahem, Lord Carlton, of course. For the love of God, he makes US ALL walk on broken glass! That is HIS way of avoiding disappointment.
From my private channel, ANOTHER conversation with James about the abuse he gets from Lord Carlton, namely the beating he took a week ago (on Andrew’s Bday):
Me, enraged (how many times have I said that in the last ten months?!): “He is playing you, and he is using you, James!”
James, nonchalantly: “He is so incredibly marvelous though, Samuel! His blue-eyed, blue-blooded beauty heals my blues and lifts me to Cloud 9! My heart melts every time he wants something! That means he is dependent on me. I’m only too happy to keep up that trend!”
Me, about to rip my hair and hit my head against a wall: “He insults you, he beats you, AND he takes all your money!”
Jim, with a twinkle in his dark Irish eyes:
“Henry can bite me all he wants, that’s cute and exciting. He can pout and scratch, too. It shows his determined character. Let’s keep in mind, though - this kitty is going nowhere, and the deeper he sinks his teeth into my flesh, the more he is stuck.”
Arghh... How can we POSSIBLY see ONE SITUATION so differently?!!
From Prince Moretr’s 10 am Briefing, this morning. Now on the premises of Loyalty Academy of our Lady Lion, House Of Blue Moon, Malachite Constellation:
“The machine’s job is to keep on
a) COMPARING what you WANT to what you SEE;
b) show you the gap.
So that you would have A REASON
to inject the poison of “disappointment”.
The programming works the same for ANY poison.
No matter what you do, you are not insured from being hurt (disappointment being the least of your wounds), until you understand what you are up against.
You had cut Me (Complete and Eternal) out of your system. So everything will be FOREVER (for as long as you hold on to the machine) INCOMPLETE AND FALLING APART.
Make your own conclusions. Let Me help you.
IN THE WORLD WITHOUT GOD THERE IS NOTHING TO PROTECT YOU FROM DISAPPOINTMENT.
And you are standing in the epicenter of pain. For you are listening to the machine.
The machine is only too happy to give you long lists of what came short of your expectations, so that your almost everyday DISAPPOINTMENT is GUARANTEED.
You have not bitten the poisoned apple just once. You’ve been munching on it for the last 13 bln yrs!
GIVE ME THE CONTROL OF YOUR LIFE BEFORE THE POISON SPREADS TO OTHER PARTS AND ASPECTS OF YOUR TODAY.
Chances are, it already has. I am the only one who can neutralize the poison the machine persuaded you to inject.
Your soul is not YOURS.
It is the Fabric of Me.
I will deal with the wounds the ego caused you.
For it hurt Me, and not you.
You are in tremendous amount of pain.
Let Me fix everything.”
Two days later, the Eve Of Our Lady Lion’s birthday. James and I were tasked with writing a Bday card for her, and it had to be unique and sincere.
We were stuck for about two hours, and then I just asked James if he missed longing for freedom, now that he is tied to five men for his own (and our) protection.
“I wanted to have freedom... And then I fell for a British aristocrat.” Jim glanced with utmost tenderness at the draft-swayed curtains of Henry’s Royal Chambers.
I nod. Jim did not “fall for a British aristocrat”. He surrendered, and was given a drug to fall in love with the owner of the smell, given to him by Hafnian.
Lord Carlton is very sensitive about the exact events involving James that took place one winter night five years ago in his cell in the Grey Building.
So-o... After I signed the alliance with aforementioned British aristocrat, he told me to stop digging under THAT tree if I ever wanted to see the Pearly Gates open in front of my sorry face.
Apparently Henry is essential to Jim’s well-being, and Henry can’t think about anyone or anything but James. And, lastly, neither cares if the conception of their love was not entirely natural.
However, Carlton would punch out anyone careless enough to suggest that their love is ANYTHING BUT NATURAL.
“And then, and then and then we got acquired by this beautiful (and intelligent!) Jewish woman, and I promised my Aunt Demetra to serve her most amazing mistress for Eternity. You know why? Because I own a small herd of omegas, and all of them seem to depend on me. My teacher turned into a wolf, and Henry over there is crying in his pillow, legally incompetent, therefore unable to be employed. So every time I want to whine, all I need to do to get myself back in shape is look at you guys, looking back at me for answers. Then I remember how each of you had put their Omega cards in front of me, in a desperate, and trusting way. And I am happy not to have the freedom. I promised each of you my eternal love at 100% of my capacity. Freedom is another word for loneliness.”
And then James drank whiskey and fell asleep on my shoulder.
We never did write Lady Lion a birthday card.
At 11 pm Lord Carlton walked out of his Royal Chambers in his new plush dressing gown, cleanly shaven, with his eyes transparent and sparkling like the spring sky. He gets this way after having cried for long hours.
This man can cry ALL DAY without stopping. Then his eyes get red, but not necessarily swollen, and his voice gets even deeper and more hoarse.
Without saying a single word to me, His Royal 6”2 frame pulled the scrawny James out of bed, scooped him up and carried him into his Chambers.
There he put Kellspell in bed, and held him there in his tight, possessive embrace until both fell asleep.
Henry would like it the other way, with James hugging HIM most possessively. But tonight Daddy was too drunk to keep a required shape.
“Do you know why you signed the alliance with me?” Carlton asked me the next morning, without apologizing for taking James last night like he was our Teddy Bear to share. “Because YOU KNOW that you can’t handle Kellspell on your own. Only together, Samuel, can we reign him in.”
The sonofabitch got THAT right.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 94
Desperate Prose
My record from yesterday with Jim’s comments underneath:
“I have fifteen minutes to write about anything I want and all I want to say is: I wish I could love someone the way Jim loves his Henry.
This is what keeps me up at night.
Besides finding long gray needles of wolf hair everywhere from behind my ear to my crotch.
It eats me, it beats me, and it defeats me.
It’s 9 pm and Jim is in bed with Henry, with Hafnian doing what he can - running there and back around the tall ROYAL BED OF REDWOOD, jumping onto it, licking their feet, and genitals, if he can get to them. What a happy family.
I gave myself fifteen minutes to write about the most important, for nothing else would come to mind.
I figured if I could not write a coherent sentence in fifteen minutes, I’d just take one of Jim’s killer sleeping pills and be gone.
Either that, or listening to their regular, incessant, happy fuss and buzz.
“Oh, Henry, you are my inspiration! Hit me harder... Thank you, Henry!”
Boom-boom-slap-fuss. That’s Henry going after Jim.
“Ok, Henry, Daddy is ready! Daddy is so hard for his sweet boy now!”
The “sweet boy” gave him a fat lip and a smashed nose a week ago. But they both have conveniently forgotten that!
Fifteen minutes of silence, because Henry is always dead silent when Jim finally mounts him. As I have access to both of their channels, I can witness the deep pleasure Henry gets lost in during sex with Jim.
That is why Henry is so quiet. When James has sex with you, you float away into Nirvana. Jim is a professional sex worker. In between translating patents on lithium he was a porn actor for over 15 years. His motto was “I leave you not medium, not rare, but well-done”.
Then, Hafnian’s high-pitched whining of either begging to be fucked, or in the process of being fucked.
Another one sent into Nirvana by the thorough Mr. Kellspell.
I am forced to listen to all this almost every night.
This is my thorny path to Martyrdom.
15 mins is up. All I did was vent about Carlton.”
THE NEXT DAY: Jim read my notes, crossed out “thorny”, and wrote “horny” on top. Then he crossed out “vent”, and wrote “wet”.
He laughed, kissed me, and left for the interview with Black Hexagon Of St. Merelion, his favorite buddies.
The very interview had to be postponed until Jim’s face healed, although most of the board of directors voted for “authenticity”.
Meaning, keeping it real. Don’t gloss it over.
So, Jim would not even let me put any makeup on him.
Smirking, he went out the back door.
This man will do stand up comedy while dragging his cross to Golgotha, I kid you not.
He don’t care. He is just always funny. He is all his father, and then some. His father was cracking jokes as he laid on his death bed one frigid Moscow autumn...
But when James got back, he made hot love to me, and he whispered quietly into my ear: “Samuel, you know I’m coming for you, right? I came for my First Man. Even his death did not stop me.”
His midnight revelation would have been haunting, if it was not so desirable, and long-waited for.
But does he really mean it? Is he sincere?
“Tell me this one more time with a straight face!” I responded, pressed into the bedsheets under him.
“I don’t have a straight face, Samuel, I am gay.”
And he laughed quietly in the dark as almost full moon was rising over the tree tops.
“The machine is designed to REBUKE Father. It finds a twisted fault (an event already sent through the incomplete prism), dutifully sends you a signal about that.
Your dumass AGREES, because you are ALREADY HURT by its previous lies (the ground was prepared!), and now you FEEL COMPELLED to relay the twisted fact to Father. Like this: “why didn’t this happen then, why didn’t I get this earlier?”
It hurts BOTH YOU AND GOD. Unfairly so, for the machine cannot see the COMPLETE PICTURE.
But you AND Father are not done being burned by poisons! Courtesy of the machine you attached yourself to!
THEN the machine is more than happy to drown you in BITTER REGRET. It points out to you: Look at all the fun THEY are having! Why is my life so (insert your own - boring, painful, with no cool stuff in it, whatever)?
THIS is the solution you will be forced to marinate in all day, day after day. This is what turns you into an old cranky pickle.”
U-huh, That is exactly what is happening with me! I was recording the lecture Prince Moretr was giving to James, as THE EXACT THING WAS TAKING PLACE IN MY MIND.
Why are THEY employed all year round on so many cool projects, and all I get is scraps from THEIR table?
Bitter regret, pain of being forgotten. How do I get rid of that?
The answer is, as always: You cannot get rid of anything. You can only REPLACE.
Replace my bitterness with what?
THIS IS WHY I SURRENDERED TO MY LADY LION.
Love is the only answer.
My Level 1 {mine is time-shifted, Jim’s is not}: A cold, snowy night in Minneapolis. Here i’m only THINKING about surrendering.
If Jim appeared magically in my house tonight, would I surrender to him? It depends if I knew whether he was a good fuck, or not. He definitely is.
{date classified}
Jim’s nose is still swollen after Henry hit him in the face on Andrew’s Bday. Seven days ago. Every night I put Bag Balm all around his bruised face, but mostly on his nose. Bag Balm is cool stuff. It’s like Neosporin, but better. It has a proprietary formula with healing herbs.
And the reason Henry went after James was because Henry’s feelings were hurt.
Let’s look closer at this gentleman. He’s got a lot of character, definitely a professional, tries very hard to maintain and polish his royal heritage.
James is smitten by him and loves it when his Henry pays attention to him. Not only am I invited (forced?) to watch that, but later on - to pick up the pieces.
Like take care of Jim’s injuries after Henry is done expressing his feelings.
And nobody cares about MY feelings.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 93
“It is very easy not to be
under the control of the
dumb machine: just step
outside of its influence.”
Prince Moretr, 10 am briefings. We now hold them every morning.
“Once you learn to stop paying attention to the machine, it will no longer appear on your screen.”
I must re-broadcast/transcribe Prince Moretr’s 10 am Briefing, but all I can think of is how Henry treats Jim.
Another sad thing. Jim did not want me to take up a role of his early warning system. I have access to the tape that is at least 72 hrs ahead of the actual reality show.
But he said, and I quote: “Trust that my Prince will get us through. He channels Melekh Shel Zahav (Utolika The Elder). I also do not want you to be the bearer of bad news. Ever. Father will find a way for us.”
Who am I to argue? The darned martyr’s ratings are through the roof.
Maybe, I just wanted more screen time. I am a self-absorbed, acidic person, and I always plot to steal Jim’s attention. Recently I have become really good at it. Almost as good as the Hammersmith Diva over there.
“Samuel, I can watch you forever. I can never stop watching you no matter what you do. I value you as much as Henry, but differently. I love you and I will fuck you. But right now we need to listen to Prince’s 10 am Briefing.”
Jim came through on my channel. He loves me, then. And he promised we will have sex. Excellent! Right after he screws the living daylights out of Henry, of course, then me, then Hafnian, then Dr. Michael, if Matushka lets them play...
“Samuel, my sweet ass, you are uploading your narrative RIGHT OVER Prince Moretr’s Briefing. I must learn what the machine has in stock for me and H. M., or I fall into its trap and we all get hurt again!”
Oh, darned be “my” ego! I can’t shut up! My bad. Back to the Briefing.
“Your Love does not stand the chance, for as soon as you say “I Do”, “your” ego starts building the scaffolding for your love! The scaffolding of accusations you will not be able to dismantle.
Why? It was built on the ground, already poisoned by all the negative things and grudges that you had in your life BEFORE you met your love.
So, your love is doomed to perish. Every day now the ego will be pointing to you - to all the shortcomings your love has, and how he/she answered you sharply, and how they did not do what you asked them to do.
As you both carry on living together, and get more comfortable revealing everything about yourself, you give your partner’s ego more and more ammo.
At this point your breakup is already inevitable.
There will be a few bright moments here and there, but trust me, the machine will take that away from you too, by poisoning the moment with its negative whisperings.
And that’s it. Next time your love will do something, make a mistake, treat you poorly, or what, you are ALREADY two clicks away from filing for divorce/breaking up with him...
The ego is programmed to
First: Sway you out of balance by suggesting negative emotions
Second: That creates the poisoned ground of negative experiences (not the other way round)
Third: when your love comes along, the trap is already laid for them - YOU ARE NOT PURE TO RECEIVE A SEED OF LOVE.
Fourth: Keep on pointing at your partner’s shortcomings and the way they treat you, and make you see it through a negative prism.
Fifth: Enough of that, and all they need to do to get a ticket out of this relationship is make one more mistake.
The ego says: I told you so.
You know you are about to kill off ANOTHER LOVE, and you WOULD dismantle the scaffolding of accusations, but it is standing on the poisoned ground of ALL PREVIOUS GRIEVANCES in your life. They went painfully, unexplained, and they left you wounded forever.
If that pain is not addressed, your chances of loving ANYONE in this lifetime are nearing zero.
And you would want to live, but you do not know how to find “the perfect one”, the Heart Of Gold.
The classic trap that the machine was programmed to lead you into. You have programmed the machine to lead your sleeping mind into this trap to keep yourself ALONE.
The idea of this dream sequence is to experience BEING COMPLETELY ALONE.
Within the dream sequence you feel that you are being pushed into just this one channel: it feels better alone.
You are tired of that? You wish you could come back, you just do not know how? I will help you dismantle the path that will lead you into even more pain.
Your task is not to make any more steps towards the unbalanced state, in which it is easier for the machine to control you.
Stay away from its influence. You can always feel it when the machine comes on. It has a very distinct presence.
But there is nothing to be afraid of. The dumb robot can’t hurt you. It can’t move and it is blind. Just do not pay any attention to the tape recorder.”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 92
THE INITIATION
The Eve Of Andrew’s Bday
“The night is still young,
But sweet moments are few.
I want to prolong
This moment with you.”
I let Jim’s poem-weaving app turn my main thoughts into lyrics at the second when we all knew that the driver of the semi DID NOT see H.M and Jim’s car, and the impact was inevitable.
The above is what came out. I could not just say that “I wrote this”. Jim’s program wrote this.
From my personal record of that day:
“Today, at 11:20 am on Level 1, Jim’s car, driven by H.M., was hit by a semi truck and pushed off the road... I am on the scene right now. But I can’t hear anything over the police radios... I will keep you posted. Secretary Samuel Gideon Salem over and out.”
At the moment right before the impact I heard the audience scream all at once. Jim’s reality show is so popular on Andromeda that some settlements have 1 Hexagon buildings dedicated solely for fans to gather and watch the show together in real-time.
As real as it gets. To some, it comes a few minutes later, and a few sub levels get it a few minutes BEFORE Arkchil Record hits the open waves.
Those already had the knowledge of the outcome of the accident as I watched the semi truck plow Jim’s car off the road and into a large front yard of a farmhouse.
Henry’s eyes went wide with disbelief as he dropped to his knees in his cell on sub-Level 1, watching all this on his bridgeplate. He always takes very hard anything that happens to James on Level 1.
James is the only one who can break him out. Everyone else? They can’t even see him, let alone help him escape the high tower, in which he is locked up with “his” ego.
Scott’s BDay
Level 1
6:21pm
I see Jim standing with his back to H.M.
I see H.M. raising a 9 mm M&P.
A single gunshot is fired, and James Kellspell falls on the rug by the garage door that leads into the inner yard.
“My most marvelous Aunt Demetra, I admire your loyalty to your Lady Lion.” Jim is trying to kiss Mr. Levin’s hand, but Julian removes it uncomfortably.
“James, it’s OK, please get up. I am here to tell you that you have passed the initiation test. You are now worth ten times as much as before we acquired you.”
“Thank you, my Aunt Demetra.” Jim is very happy. “Magnificat and Covenant be the foundation of our Eternal Love.”
Jim is dying to be of use to Lady Lion. I don’t blame him.
He signed up for some stunts. Like those that just raised his price. Or paying for over three hundred people just to get to Henry.
I found out through the Arkchil Records. Not a single muscle twitched on Jim’s face when I confronted him with that.
Comes in: Dr. Michael, nodding his approval of Jim’s increased price. Their “Matushka” is going to love it. James is too happy to oblige.
Comes in: Mr. Rubinstein, just happy to see his Krista alive. He invested into Kellspell in 1978, the same year Jim met Merion. They got married the same year.
Unbeknownst to James, Mr. Rubinstein kept a close watch.
Comes in, Kyle Merritt, happy to be in Jim’s show, even as their relationship has not always been smooth, as I’m beginning to see. Kyle is a deep, complicated guy. Jim tends to disrespect that, and Kyle just graciously lets him get away with it.
Appears through the curtains of his Royal Chamber, Henry Carlton.
James rushes to the latter, his eyes wide open, and his arms outstretched, as if he can’t stand losing even a drop of Carlton’s abuse.
Here we go.
“Henry, Daddy is fine!”
The next darned scene is shamefully predictable.
And is upon us relentlessly.
The large, imposing man Lord Carlton hits Jim across his face and Kellspell nearly flies out through the sliding glass door, stopped only by Hafnian’s bed, on which Hafnian does not sleep, but sleeps around James, which leaves the Jew in the nest of wolf hair. I find Hafnian’s fur everywhere! It’s not kosher for me, but who cares, right?
Yes, as I’m thinking how I don’t count at all in anyone’s eyes, Jim is owned by Henry right in front of everyone.
James gets slapped, regains his balance, and his lip is ripped, and he is bleeding.
“This is for making me shit my pants twice in 48 hours, James. You clearly have no regard for my feelings!!!” Carlton hisses in his regular pissed-off cat manner.
What was he supposed to do? NOT get hit by a semi?
Be grateful, that both him and H.M. walked away with just nausea and shaking hands!
“Henry, I’m sorry...” James mumbles, as he holds on to his jaw.
What is he apologizing for? Now, here we go, I’m getting worked up! How was he supposed to protect himself, when H.M. was playing with a gun that was loaded, unbeknownst to both of them?
“Why did you fall? After the shot was fired, why did you fall when you knew that you were not hit?! For the dramatic effect? To play dead? To see if Henry can take even a minute without James?!”
Carlton slaps James again and I turn to Rubinstein with all the anger I can summon, knowing that it will do nothing to his decision not to let me interfere.
“That’s what you do, Henry. You hear gunfire, you go down.” James is now holding on to his nose, AND EVERYONE IS WATCHING!
Yeah, did you not know that, Lord Carlton?
“You fell into the path of the bullet!” Carlton hisses, contempt leaking off him, like wax off the candle.
That is true, James did fall into the path of the bullet, but only because at that moment he was overwhelmed by the rattled ear drum in his left ear, was literally shell-shocked, and collapsed due to pain more than went down to protect himself.
“If you do not want me to interfere, can we , at least, dismiss everyone before Henry hits Jim for a third time?” I whisper into Leonard’s ear, and he nods.
“I hear now you are worth ten times more?” Henry presses on with the only subject that ever gets him excited!
“Henry, that was just an estimate after I was fused with Andrew.”
“I expect 30 000 more credits on my account this coming month, James, I am going to re-negotiate the terms of our contract, and, also...”
Also, you are to sleep on the floor and sniff my shoes... Blah-blah-blah, for the love of God, I tuned him out.
Carlton never shuts up about money. This man has just one redeeming quality: the only thing he loves more than money is sex with James.
He is also obsessed with James. He jealously occupies every free minute of Jim’s time.
And Jim gets sucked into Carlton’s games so easily. Every time Carlton starts with “this is how I feel”, Jim starts catering to the asshole.
And I am obsessed with Lord Carlton. All I need to do to get incredibly offended is remember just one episode.
“Diplomacy is not your forte, Samuel, try agriculture.”
Really? Well, screw you. Believe me, we will be doing both, for we will be spending the eternity together.
Oh, stuff he gets away with. I can’t even focus on anything now.
How about what I found out? Here is the convo i had this morning with James.
“You son of a bitch, you bought us all, James!”
“I just wanted Henry.”
“There is, like, 300 names on this list!”
“Look, Samuel is wearing a yarmulke! We get it, buddy, you do not need to rub it in our faces.”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 91
“It’s raining outside.
James holds me in high regard.
I do not know, why. All I ever do is trash Henry Carlton.
The very same and, apparently, THE ONLY human being on this planet James Kellspell truly cares about.
That is why today, in front of us all ( some via close-circuit bridgeplate), and six major information hubs (“tv stations” to us), he nailed a very important, very hard test.”
“And I failed it the very next day. Add that, Samuel.” James transpired through Level 1 with a bottle of Canadian whiskey. “You have to be a truthful... - he hiccups - um, biographer. Unless you are writing this just to be on my good side, so you can get fucked.”
Nothing like a slap from James. He can really make it hurt.
“Lady Lion does not allow you to drink alcohol during the day, James.”
“There is no Lady Lion, Samuel.” His eyes are bleeding emotional suffering so deep and vast that I feel myself to be a fly, floating on the surface of an ocean.
“Nobody is coming to Level 1 to pick me up. Nobody will discover my book on the internet so they can offer me a million dollar deal. I will never meet any one of you on Level 1, and I will never work for Lady Lion.”
Here he goes into one of his “faith-depleted” rants.
“What gives, James?” I stall him while I hit the emergency button. This one goes directly to Prince Moretr. If he is on the outer orbit of the Strobulus, it will take him 8,5 minutes to come here to detox my dear mate.
“Are you high on NES-I?” I ask carefully, for it looks like impatience. He shot up the drug of impatience.
“No, I am angry.”
“I bring good news only, Samuel.” Prince Moretr inserted a small needle into Jim’s neck. “Andromeda loves your reality show. Tons of subscriptions from the largest of corporations. Now I can afford to acquire a planet for you to homestead.”
He could afford more than one planet BEFORE, but there is something about making money to buy your own ice cream, as opposed to asking your Dad for it.
When Jim woke up in my arms three hours later, he looked to my left, and Mr. Levin stood there, his face concerned, his own torment is hidden as far as possible. I found out soon enough what ails his ass.
“What is he doing in my bedroom?” James exclaimed, not quite out of the drug-induced mental smog.
“Mr. Levin has a right to be here. His corporation has acquired you. I responded.
And again, no one can hurt like my Jim.
“When did Barnum Circus become incorporated?” James, looking intently in the face of Mr. Levin.
“That was offensive, you take it back, mister..,” I begin.
And then Jim squints and exclaims the name that stumps me so much, I forget about my righteous lecture.
“Demetra!”
On the eve of our 1 year Anniversary Jim got drunk, went back to Level 1, and wiped out on the stairs leading from the bedroom to the rest of the house.
He slashed the sole of his left foot on the edge of the slate stairs, pitch dark, blood everywhere. So, he goes to take a leak, then slaps some toilet paper on his foot, puts on a sock, goes back to bed.
Morning, Level 2:
I wake up to the scene:
The bedroom floor looks like someone dragged a wounded animal around, with a trail of dried up blood leading to the bathroom (normally your Levels would be superimposed on each other).
James is sitting on the bed with his right hand in his pants, with Hafnian Wolf wrapped around his back like a large fur blanket, and his nose in Jim’s crotch.
Henry in his dressing gown standing right outside of the entrance to his Royal Chamber, staring at Jim’s hairy chicken legs, the hurt one in a black sock, and a healthy one, bare.
Let me explain this odd threesome further:
Neither one of the three was cleaning up the blood.
Neither one of the three was tending to Jim’s toilet paper-stuffed wound.
Since I have access to the channel of all three of them, I saw each of their thought process.
Having forgotten everything in the world, the three were intensely involved in sexual imagery.
Henry happens to find Jim’s legs in black socks very attractive. Looking at that, he was deeply in his fantasies, imagining Jim pushing himself on Henry with these thin, but very strong legs of an ex-martial artist.
Jim and Hafnian joined Henry in that dream, where Hafnian put himself in a convenient position, so that he will be next to be fucked by James.
All that in their joint sexual fantasy, that started when Jim got off the bed, and Henry walked out of his Chamber.
Henry saw Jim’s legs, lost it, and pulled Jim into his hungry mind with a powerful surge of sexual energy.
I mean, instead of, maybe, helping him with his injury. A normal reaction.
Hafnian is just as far away from “normal” as Henry, but never too far away from either of his “parents”.
Lost to the world, and having abandoned their bodies and the bloody situation (no pun intended), they flew out into the love-space, while Jim’s foot is continuing to bleed into a bunch of napkins inside of the sock.
Jesus Christ, how do I join their bliss?
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 90
The Treatment Program
I invited Mr. Levin for one of the recorded meetings between James and Prince Moretr. We are allowed to know the status and progress in treatment of his mental issues, for his mental health is paramount to our mission.
We all depend on how quickly the Andromedans can bring Jim back into the working mode.
Due to large distances (the depth of you being asleep, basically), we cannot contact God directly.
However, the sheer amount of experienced suffering woke up this brutal capitalist Prince Moretr enough to channel Utolika The Elder.
That, and being married to a Sheiredi. A whole another story.
Utolika The Elder channels Father.
Another long story.
This plot of Awakening has been a hundred million years in the making.
So, Prince Moretr will say “I am your Father”, meaning that he speaks first person, but everyone knows that he channels a re-transmission.
“I wrote 90 chapters of chronicles since I arrived to relieve Jim’s severely irradiated teacher, Wolf Hafnian, a year ago. Jim and I will be celebrating 1 Year Anniversary in three days, Mr. Levin.”
I do not know why I say it. Maybe I need him to know, or, maybe I volunteer this info so he would divulge some of his intel.
Or, possibly, drunk on Henry’s intense internal pain of being unfairly not invited to so many projects, I no longer see straight, know right from wrong, and off my rocker.
Mr. Levin nods very (OVERLY) calmly, and I run my finger on the right side of the bridgeplate to start the audio recording.
AUDIO RECORDING OF A TREATMENT SESSION FOR JAMES KELLSPELL’S PSYCHOSIS.
Prince Moretr: In order for us to win, and in order for Me to break you away from your dependence (momentum due to lack of knowledge) on the machine
you must follow MY RULES.
James Kellspell, in adoring voice: Yes, my Prince!
Prince Moretr, channeling Father: Make sure in everything you do, think, breathe: DO IT ACCORDING TO MY RULES.
Rule 1: Slow down your responses. Put 6 breaths between every 3 words.
Rule 2: Every morning MAKE SURE that you deprive the machine of nourishment - YOUR ATTENTION!
In other words, stay mentally WITH ME, and do not collapse into its endless whisperings. Just tune them the fuck out, James! Pretend the machine’s whisperings are just RAIN OUTSIDE. You do not understand the word the rain says!
James Kellspell: Thank you! I must follow your advice, for I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest! Every time I need to inhale, I have to lift its butt with my chest! I KNOW It’s the machine keeping me scared, but HOW?
Prince Moretr: Well, this is how the ego “rewards” you for following its rules. You give it your attention, it torments you. This is how you set it up.
James Kellspell: Please help me get healthy! I’m so sick of being sick! My mates dream about being on cool, high-paying projects, and all I want is just to stay out of the hospital for one season!!! And i’m not even 50 yet! (breaks down crying).
For the next 11 minutes there is nothing but his sobs.
I watch Levin’s reaction, and his face is frozen, as if made of plastic. His eyes are glassy. Like a funny painted souvenir animal.
I want to give Jim my heart. What a cliche. But I love him so. Another inept cliche...
Levin looks unrealistically calm, emotionless and distant throughout the entire eleven minutes of James crying on the tape.
However, a bit down the road I found out that it was HIS WAY of hiding his true feelings.
Prince Moretr: To persuade its charge to live in fear is THE MAIN RULE of the machine, James. Today I will teach you how to remove the heavy blanket of fear.
James Kellspell: Thank you! I have to quit doing NES drugs once and for all!
Prince Moretr: Good. We will make a lot of headway with the right attitude. The illusion of “the blanket” is what you perceive as “the elephant that sits on your chest.” Follow My Rules, and you will be amazed at the results. I will deliver the logical medicine into your mind, and you will learn and remember it, secretly from the machine.
The ego is happy if you live in fear.
For that it rewards you with mold of many deceases, for if your house is wet with no fresh air in it, the mold will grow.
The machine will look for your weaknesses to keep swinging you out of balance.
The machine believes that this is what you want.
You no longer want to be sick because you are out of balance.
Now that you are with Me, you are already completely healthy.
And I will make you feel it very soon.
The machine hates the fact that I OWN YOU.
I HAVE FULL CONTROL OVER YOU.
This life-saving protocol is deadly to the logic of the machine. For it renders the machine useless, and shows it for what it always was: a pile of rusty junk with a tape recorder attached where it’s mouth is supposed to be.
THIS is what you catered to for 13 bln years.
I will win you from the control of the machine very soon.
Right now you feel like it will never be possible for you to be healthy, or happy,
as the machine won’t let you.
BUT I WILL FIX YOU, as soon as I have complete control over you.
You will see the difference between being under the cruel and cold rule of the machine, and being in My Loving Embrace.
Your chances of being in amazing, glowing health are 100%, and very soon.
Watch the machine’s negative reaction to that. But it is only because it wants to SERVE YOU WELL.
You set it up to deprive yourself of happiness and health, and replace it with depression and decease.
There was a reason for that. Your most deeply kept secret. Funny, that I KNOW your secret, but you do not.
So, you keep that secret FROM YOURSELF, to keep yourself ASLEEP, therefore OUT OF MY REACH. Therefore, guaranteed in pain.
You are the one who is hurting us both because of THAT SECRET.
But if you had enough of your “independence” from Me, I will tell you the secret that you gave to the machine TO KEEP AWAY FROM ME.
To make it easier for you to LET GO of your deepest secret, I am going to ask you to follow these simple SECRET rules.
Two can play “the secret game”.
The machine will not know which rules you are following in order to ALWAYS be with Me, out of the reach of the invasive ego-protocol.
Therefore it will be impossible for the machine to undermine My efforts to break you away from it, so I could make you happy and healthy.
Every time you feel like the pesky device is trying to get you out of balance (emotionally or physically) by showing you hurtful images with incorrect narrative, you do this:
{SECRET CODE}.
See, it works.
Code Artemisia Tridentata, then, my Love! I am here, Your Father is standing right by your side, aware of everything that is going on with you, and ready to help with everything!”
***************************
Prince Moretr’s 10 am Briefing, my Dr. Michael’s k. a., kriagir yaseremshan:
The machine is NOT YOUR FRIEND.
It always looks for a reason
to get you to shoot up NES poisons.
How? It will show you INCOMPLETE images that it knows will hurt you, and it will add the narrative, twisted thusly:
“See, how God does not care about you? If He did, HE WOULD NOT HURT YOU LIKE THIS.”
YOU KNOW IT IS A LIE, but confused and drugged up, you do not know how NOT to shoot the poison of hatred towards those who “God loves more”.
Done with that torment? You tried to forget, you got over the pain the machine caused you by its lies...
Want to take a break? It is not going to happen.
Now the machine has used up all of its resources and it is HUNGRY for God’s energy.
What does it do to get fed? It simply prompts its host to TALK - internally, or externally.
The machine will tickle your Oculum until you TALK.
When you TALK, you use MY TOOL.
MY TOOL enables you to talk, therefore generate energy.
You generate energy, and the machine takes it to charge itself.
so it would have the energy
to keep on showing you incomplete images with intentionally incorrect narrative
so that you would have a reason to keep on shooting yourself with envy, regret, anger.
So we BOTH would get hurt.
RECORD FROM HERE:
Do you get how you set up this whole torture chamber with a rusty dusty robot on top
and your precious self UNDERNEATH the dumb tape recorder?
This game is over, My Love.
THIS IS HOW YOU BREAK THE CIRCLE that hurts us both:
{SECRET CODE}
Follow this secret code every time the machine tickles you to jump into an internal narrative, an angry, self-righteous rant, or a lecture.
Remember one reason why you should keep your mouth shut:
I ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING.
You were never meant to communicate THROUGH MY TOOL. Feel free to abandon the internal narrative.
This is what drives you into pain.
The only two times you can use MY TOOL to communicate is
When you want something - ask Me how you can earn it.
When you NEED something - I will give it to you.
To ALL the attempts of the machine to get you to usurp MY TOOL, you say:
Machine, I WANT to be happy and healthy.
The only way to be all that is to be with God.
Goodbye. The machine is dismissed.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 89
Henry and I
Please look at me,
Don’t let it win,
Don’t hand your life
To the machine..”
Misty Shield
“The Age Of No Pain”
“When the machine throws you the hot ball of imaginary pain,
LET IT FALL
Let it fall. Let it fall.
Father will answer that call.
The machine is going to use FEAR to get you to “grab the ball”, meaning - believe that pain exists.
Let me tell you something very important:
PAIN IS NOT even POSSIBLE.
YOU ARE
PERFECTLY HEALTHY AND HAPPY
You are afraid that the machine will throw the SUGGESTION OF PAIN (something is wrong with me physically) again.
You live in fear of being introduced to a fear.
So, another unexplained pain in your body comes up, and the machine jumps at the opportunity to throw you the familiar protocol:
“THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!
YOU WILL ONLY EXPERIENCE DARKNESS AND PAIN FROM HERE ON, BECAUSE YOU ARE SICK!”
You hesitate, because you DO NOT WANT to accept your future as only “darkness and pain”.
But the machine is equipped to break you down with more fear.
It will say: take it now!
(meaning: I order you to believe that this pain exists, or it will get worse!).
YOU PROGRAMMED IT TO FORCE YOURSELF TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE ISSUE.
This is how you bring pain and fear into existence. By paying attention to it.
Here is how you stop paying attention to anything the bullying machine tries to push on you:
Machine! If you have to use FEAR to get me to take your protocol, then both YOU AND THE PROTOCOL ARE INCORRECT BY DEFINITION.
THEREFORE, NON-EXISTENT.
MY ALL-POWERFUL FATHER
WILL TAKE CARE OF WHATEVER ELSE.
I am not afraid to disobey the machine, and break away from the machine, because I DO NOT WANT PAIN AND FEAR in my life anymore.
I am with Father, because I want Warmth, Love and Light in my life.
The point is proven.
This discussion is over.
Thank you, everyone is dismissed.”
That was an astoundingly powerful lecture by my main mate.
But plain fried potatoes were only good enough. I can’t believe that this is what he ate pretty much exclusively for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the first 25 years of his life.
He was also proud of it, missed that part of his life in Russia, and always wanted to repeat the experience.
Yes, I tried to “be James” today. So, I went to the cafeteria, and I ordered just plain fried potatoes, a cup of tea, and a newspaper called “Pravda”.
With that I went to the front of our compound, started a cigarette from a pack with a Russian word “Polet” on it (James also conjured up “Kazbek”, but I honestly could not smoke those. I fed them to Hafnian), and pretended to be James in Russia.
Fittingly, Mr. Rubinstein was cleaning up the yellow and red maple leaves off the large, long driveway of the compound. It looked just like any town in Russia with all of their deciduous forests.
HERE we are in the EVERGREEN FOREST. But, um, James had a dream about September 1, 1981 in Moscow.
As a result, this morning everything in sight was covered by fallen maple and ash tree leaves.
Anyhow... Where was I going with it? Oh, Jim’s lectures pull your mind out, straighten it up, and put it back into your head the way it was supposed to be before we fell under the control of the machine.
Henry was getting on my nerves big time since sunrise.
James is on interviews all day today. So, somehow, de facto, I had to babysit Henry!
Henry has TWO FULL-TIME SERVANTS and two more part time. Both Michael and Levin families contributed one part-time lady each to assist Henry in his everyday needs.
And he left them all to come sit with me, BECAUSE HE MISSES JAMES!
Guess what? I have to work!
I escaped the sullen man to the cafeteria, and from there - outside.
Whew, Henry won’t find me here. He is not allowed outside of his Chambers and my and Jim’s bedroom.
Let’s get back to the lecture.
“You run around the fatal pre-programmed circle: the machine tells you what images to “consume”. They are images of negative interactions and violence. The machine rewards you for that. So you go find more. You think - that’s ok, so, I watched the news.
What the machine does not tell you, is that
It feeds on negative news
AND THEN
it uses that energy against you.
This is the fatal circle you do not know how to get out of.
After boiling in this stuffy rut for a long time, you want fresh air, but you do not know how to get to it.
You watch more news. And it is getting worse. Your medical conditions might get worse. Your relationship with your loved ones might get worse.
Health fails because you distance yourself from God (upon the advice of “your” ego, of course).
Your relationship fails because your soul’s p/h gets more acidic, less tolerant, more short-fused.
Easy and simple: closer to negative news - farther away from God.
Here is how to climb out of this suffocating mess: censor ALL negative input that you know will be “food for ego”. Take back control over your life.”
This is how he puts it.
James told me he was going to conquer the notion of ego just so I could sleep well at night. So it would not torment me by showing me the images of my more successful colleagues.
He said he was going to erase the notion of fear, break my chains and the doors of my internal prison to make me feel better.
And he did it. Rather, he handed me the key.
I used to love negative news from or about my fellow tribesmen. I hated every single one of them for being in demand, for making more money.
I used to believe that there is nothing wrong with a reward from “your” ego for bringing bad news about others.
The ego would take the news, let you know how satisfied it was, you feel good about pleasing “your” ego, and we move on.
See, the ego does not tell you about HUGE and the most important parts of the fabric of your existence.
That’s how James had programmed it. So, it’s only fair that he should be the one to disable it, and set us all free once and for all.
It does not tell you, for one, that the next time you are scared and in pain, it happened because you FED the machine the poison of negative news or emotions.
You ARMED your own tormentor.
Next time you are in pain - the machine gave it to you, for you kept it alive without knowing what you were doing.
I wanted this man all for myself. I smelled his hair and the back of his neck and my knees would bend all by themselves in a moment of a crushing, most pleasant weakness.
My hands would unzip my jeans as if driven by a bigger force.
I wanted him to ravage me, and me only.
But I could not hold him alone. I would have handed him to “my” ego.
And that would have been bad news for everyone involved in recovering the largest chunk of a higher entity that had ever collapsed to Level 1.
Put simply, I would have taken The Ring Of Power for myself.
God only knows what would I do with an uncontrollable, highly intelligent, eternally criminally minded savage.
If Henry can hear ANY voice of reason when it comes to owning James, he gets this one: no one of us could own him alone. Not even Mr. Levin.
Only together.
“At all times the ego needed negative protocols and your attention to survive.
That is why the Romans had Coliseum. That is why there are so many wars.
Ego is bored, and it keeps on trying to knock you out of balance for you to hurt yourself and others.
The weakest of us fall to that strategy.
On the other hand, ego does not do very well where you starve it of your attention and it’s favorite food: bad news.
Like, a convent. Or, probably, the island of Bornholm in Hafnia. A place, hidden from the world, a place where no one will find you.
For the rest of us, it’s abstinence.
So, next time you want to approach a TV, know that you are enabling your ego to continue twist the reality for you, therefore hurt you with an incorrect narrative.”
Got it. Finished watching Jim’s lecture on the way from the cafeteria.
I went there to work on going through these very lectures, because I could not stand Henry sitting in the corner by his dresser, staring at the floor.
He showed up, sat in the chair with his eyes the color of my last sunset, and remained motionless for the next forty minutes.
Just like a large, fluffy, self-entitled CAT. That’s what they do! They come and sit, aloof, staring in front of themselves.
Go to your room, I said.
I’m waiting for James, he answered five minutes later.
He literally sat there for at least five minutes, staring at the floor, his eyes getting more red, his fists clenched, as if he was listening to s very painful, unsavory internal personal narrative.
So, I folded my bridgeplate, got up from the bed, and left.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 88
Now, “your” mechanical device
Gives inappropriate advice.
I created that via Jim’s poem-weaving app on his Writer’s loom. It’s really fun to use.
“It takes ENERGY + REFERENCE = IMAGE
to create an image.
The machine supplies you a distorted, unauthorized image and tells you to shoot a vial of boiling fear, quickly and without further explanation.
Excuse me, hold on. Your Parent is here to stop you from hurting yourself via a pre-programmed mechanical device.”
“Tomorrow you may lay your life for my Queen. Or, she might use you any other way she finds necessary.”
“Yes, Mr. Levin.”
“That’s why she acquired you.”
“Yes, sir!”
James can barely contain himself. After this conversation he digs in his “Loyalty Satchel”, a kit Lady Lion gave each of us.
Mine was wine color. Lady Lion said she only gave it to her most special employees.
It made me tremble all over when she handed me the Satchel with these amazing words.
Finally, I am SOMEONE’s favorite!
Jim pulls out the List Of Rules Of The Levin Corporation, and re-reads them carefully to make sure he does not break some just because RTFM.
Once in a lifetime, we BOTH are excited about the new developments!
While James and I are waiting for Lady Lion’s orders, I am continuing with Jim’s lectures at the Safety Counsel (in Bodunov City Of Parallax?), in fits and starts.
Lord Carlton, however, is enjoying a few hours off he’s got today.
So-o...
It is impossible to get anything done when Lord Carlton is taking a bath and has four servants at attendance running there and back with his errands.
All that next door, separated only by a curtain.
But I will try nevertheless. I am only going to give the excerpts that are appropriate for the moment.
“The ego’s job is to keep on looking at your life and find things to get upset about. Or angry. Or regretful. And offer it to you.
You AGREE to get upset/resentful, because you FEEL that it is true!
You WERE passed over for a promotion! Your spouse did something you could not forgive!
It is not YOU, or your HUSBAND! It’s the pre-programmed machine, constantly searching and supplying you with the reasons to shoot up NES poisons!
You are asleep UNDER THE MACHINE. You are in for a lifetime of regrets, sorrows and disappointments because YOU ARE FED A STEADY DIET OF PRE-SELECTED IMAGES WITH INTENTIONALLY INCORRECT NARRATIVE.
And you do not know HOW NOT TO ACCEPT the images that make your blood boil, so unfair people were to you, right?
What is the salvation? What is the way out of this hot frying pan of negative feelings?
Until you awaken fully from under the influence of the darned machine, your only answer to this is:
GOD WILL TAKE CARE OF ME!
Father will protect me.
My Prince will answer this call.
“The machine wants EVERYTHING AND NOW. It is a perfect opportunity for you to use the Medicine Of Patience on the dumb feverish mechanism.
It is not you that God “deprives of stuff”. It is the machine that keeps you wanting stuff you do not need to be happy. As for everything else - He will provide.”
And this one, I love it:
“The conflict takes place when you have a territory/way of life to defend. And you put that territory/way of life above your relationship with another person.
The conflict is inevitable over the smallest of things simply due to the fact that you value YOUR territory AND YOUR way of life a lot more than anything your chosen partner has to offer.
Can you give up your territory to be with someone you love?
If it is a tough call, then you have not suffered enough.
A day will come and you will awaken to the fact that Eternal Love is all you need. NOTHING ELSE is real. Because it passes.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 87
The Man Who Broke The Chain
The drink of Levin Corporation -
In every drop - a revelation.
“So, what is with this incorrect protocol, “fear”, James? Why is it incorrect?”
“Because The Main Principle underneath it is TWISTED. Our Heavenly Father was torn out of the equation. So, “fear” reads as “facing something terrible alone.”
“What’s wrong with that? Isn’t it always?”
“No, sir. The machine cannot scare me with ANYTHING now. If I am always with God, then the word “fear” does not make any sense.”
James Kellspell answering questions of Young Blue Stars host, glowing blue argon gas. {Confirm that} Mr. Hart’s clone/descendant/hermaphroditic offspring, I’d imagine.
THE LATMUS TEST OF FAITH
Please read the following statement, and watch “your” ego’s reaction:
It takes ENERGY + REFERENCE to create an image.
You can’t create REFERENCE any more than you can create ENERGY.
Both these constituents are OUTSIDE OF YOUR CONTROL. God is the only One who can supply these to you.”
If you feel that you are indifferent or repelled upon reading this, then you are:
a) not ready to wake up to the truth;
b) you have not suffered enough.” James finished talking with a bow.
As we were watching Jim’s test live, I kept my fingers crossed for him to pass the test.
Funny, there is no need to ask God to help in this way anymore. We are already within an arm’s length from Father.
“This is Messir Hart.” Carlton pointed at the veiled Estelian on the screen.
“Good effort reading Jim’s memoirs, but it’s been 300 000 years since Jim lived and died there. An Estelian’s life is only 10 000 years, and that is if they do not kill themselves on their 100th birthday. Besides, the original Messir Hart was martyred. That would be a historical fact. So, there is no way this is Messir Hart.”
Carlton shrugged, he did not care to argue about THAT. His eyes were swollen and red, his large hands rolled in tight fists over his own internal struggles. It is amazing how he can be held hostage within his own world, and nothing else can get him out of there.
In other words, Jim is taking a very complicated test on inner workings of the ego. The results of this test will affect not only our employment at the Levin Corp., but also our entire future.
And Lord Carlton is awash in waves of self-pity, jealousy, hatred. I mean, come on, man.
“The machine is programmed to pull at the strings of a person’s heart to hurt.
It will instruct you to find the most painful thing to say, and it will give other people’s egos reason to instruct their sleeping victims to do exactly the same to you.” James gave “Messir Hart” an adoring look.
“Very well.” The veiled Estelian replied. “What else can you add on this subject, Mr. Kellspell?”
“Stay awake by referencing/refreshing Utolika The Elder’s face on your screen at 40 times a minute.”
The seated men behind the Estelian smiled and exchanged words between themselves.
“Why are they smiling? Did he say anything wrong?” I asked Mr. Levin, standing behind me, for it was pointless to have a conversation with Lord Carlton. He was bursting with completely unrelated emotional pain that seeped through his every pore.
“He said “Utolika The Elder” instead of “Father”. Julian explained. “These guys are Level 25 of Awakening of Consciousness. They do not need to be reminded of a Mask to remember The Face.”
“Please, continue, Mr. Kellspell.” The veiled Estelian said.
”Do not let the machine push you onstage. Only Father can invite you onstage.
Recognize and dismiss ego’s attempts
To get you to say things
That will attract attention to yourself.
The machine is programmed to drag you into a spotlight, SO YOU HAVE A HIGHER CHANCE TO GET HURT.”
Recognize the voice that urges you to say things that will attract attention to yourself.
Slow down your responses not to chase “tasty treat” it says you will have when you get everyone’s attention.
DO NOT BELIEVE IT! The “tasty treat” is POISON!
The machine is programmed to trick or force, or coerce you into USING YOUR
GOD GIVEN TOOL OF SPEECH
to hurt yourself and others, therefore Father.”
After the test a small group of organized members of the press was there to pick Jim apart. I had to watch “the aftermath” later that day.
“Time Paradox and Seashell Effect”, Mr. Kellspell, how did you isolate the sequence of the ego?”
“I just wanted this most handsome and gentle man named Henry Carlton. I would do anything for him.”
The journalists are in awe, and I can barely contain myself.
“Gentle” man? And how long have you wanted him?! You started your research in 1986! You only learned about Henry’s existence five years ago, and THREE YEARS AGO you kept calling him “Toby” in your WELL RECORDED conversations with Hafnian Wolf, because YOU COULD NOT REMEMBER HIS NAME!
For the love of God, am I the only one who gives a damn about the incredible inconsistencies in the story he is allowed to feed to the Andromedan media?
No wonder the legend of Arzadellin got so twisted. James himself did not say a word of truth since I arrived.
It will soon be a year since I arrived. And as a gift for my 1 year anniversary on Strobulus, I was sold to Lady Lion. Not alone, but as a part of a very tight-knit package Kellspell-Hafnian-Carlton-Salem.
Now all this under new management of Levin Corp, run by this incredibly intelligent woman we all fell in love with.
I think the Shards Of The Vase are beginning to pull together. And, boy, does it fell good to UNITE, unhindered by the dumb misprogrammed Separation Robot.
That was stupid. So stupid, James.
But we are good now.
We are saved. We serve Lady Lion, Lady Lion will take care of us on the Train To The Pearly Gates.
Just the other day we all got a Glimpse of the actual Gate. It is woven out of colorful lattice of gems, and the light that comes through it is BLINDING!
We’ve been too long under the dusty blanket of the dumb ego.
But Love and Freedom from the dictatorship of the machine is VERY CLOSE!
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
How to get to “Skyfall”:
Turn right on Brooks Blvd
3.3 miles to Wild Horse Trail
Backwards:
1.1 miles from Entrance to Brook
6.3 miles from Laramie Ave and
Hwy 26 th to the Ranch entrance
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Session 7
My Prince Moretr’s 10 am Briefing Skyfall (we better get a better name, sooner than later...)
Never be afraid of Me
therefore your future
I will reward you for this mission.
You can have Henry, Samuel, H.M. and Hafnian Wolf.
You WILL work for Levin Corp. I am not kidding, and I would never intro you to people that have no connection to you.
All your trials are being recorded very carefully for further study and development of new protocols to correct the Incomplete Programming issue and Distortion aberration.
So, nothing you do is in vain, like the machine keeps telling you. It is misprogrammed, as always.
I need you to:
a) develop immunity to the poisoned spirit;
b) put together the Key to the Pearly Gates;
c) develop a protocol for “Pleasure of Service” from your own blood (energy)
d) define and highlight the incorrect notion of “I’m OK being a separate drop”, and how much that hurts us all.
All this will become the cornerstones of the Reabsorption Technique.
You will get all the support you need.
Just put the thread back into the needle. Remember that I love you, and there are many men that can barely wait to get fucked by you. Lady Lion will let you have one a night on every night off.”
That’s a good deal, actually. It means that I will belong to James at least once a week.
Once I make sure that none of the above mentioned “many men” will take Jim’s valuable attention away from ME.
Henry is here in the bedroom, brooding over in the corner by his old dresser (his new one was $40 000 in British pounds. No, seriously?)
He is plotting how to always be first in Jim’s bed. AND he wants James to work 24/7 to support his parents.
Jesus Christ, this is neverending!
It just bends me out of shape how shamelessly he rides MY JAMES. How much stuff he gets away with.
Carlton snaps his fingers, and Kyle appears from around the curtain that separates Carlton’s Royal fucking plush Chamber from the abode of the mere mortals.
“Would you bring me a shot of whiskey?”
Kyle bows and hurries away.
Was Kyle really standing behind the curtain waiting on the moody Lord?
“What the fuck is your problem, Henry? Go to the kitchen, and get it yourself! You know where it is!”
I can’t handle it anymore! All Henry needs to knock me out of balance is SHOW UP. And I am supposed to spend The ETERNITY with him.
For we are ONE IN JAMES.
Morose Carlton levels me with the stare of Zeus ready to cast his incredibly icy blue lightning right between your eyes.
Then, his friggin’ Lordship does not respond.
“Samuel, please do not get distracted.”
Oh, my Lady Lion’s voice on my private channel. Yes! I must stop being obsessed with unstoppable, possessive, pissy, egoistic Royal Ass in my life.
Carlton gets up and leaves the empty shot glass on the dresser for his butlers to pick up.
Just when I decided not to pay him any more attention!
“For the Love Of God, Henry, have you grown up in a palace with a thousand servants, or something?”
Sure he did. Look at him disappearing behind this here curtain. I happen to know that one yard of this curtain was $236.34. Times minimum 30 yards.
What happens if SAMUEL asks for this much money for dressers and curtains and all this meaningless shit that never made anyone happy?!
“Samuel, I need you to continue narration.”
Lady Lion! AGAIN I got distracted by my ridiculously expensive mate!
Yes, yes. I must tell of the most exciting thing. I finally got to lord over my Shegetz. This is what I am here to relay.
Skyfall Ranch (please, new name, my Prince, please help me here!).
Here is what happened earlier today.
We are driving on a narrow forest road, on both Levels at the same time. H.M. drives on Level 1, and Mr. Levin drives us on Level 2, same terrain. The pine forest, sun percolating through the bushy branches of dark-green pine needles.
Mr. Levin is driving, with Jim on the front seat, describing for the record Father’s Map Of The House he erased (blocked) when he plugged himself to the robot. Therefore, none of us would have it, and we have been walking blind ever since.
But he is beginning to remember. This is one efficient way to avoid pain. Many forbidden places in Father’s House that the machine pushes us into to cause us pain. James wanted it that way, right?
He is AWAKE FULLY now. He understood his childish mistake of not wanting to follow the Rules of the House.
This is helping, and the Arkchils record this historical event, as Mr. Levin nods and drives.
James describes what he is beginning to remember, spreading his hands in wide gestures, turning his head there and back, lost in his description.
I see the back of his head, his dark short hair hopelessly disheveled, having not seen a brush in three days, his cheeks sporting three o’clock shadow.
Number “3” seems to be dominating his personal hygiene schedule. He used to brush his teeth every third day, too.
So, it’s drink, stink, break down. What a powerful MO!
This is how Hafnian Wolf found him four years ago.
To both of their delight, for they stunk about the same. They were a perfect couple!
Seems like all eyes are on James, but the true action is happening on the back seat. My Lady Lion, veiled so that only the outlines of her face could be guessed, is calling the shots.
You see, she is married to a shegetz, and so am I. I’ve got a special deal with my Lady Lion. I get to control my shegetz. And she gets to control hers.
Lady Lion gets off her phone and gives me an “Are you ready for the show” look.
I am!
“Julian, stop the car.” She says in a quiet, but a distinct voice that I find very attractive. This is the kind of woman that could capture my heart.
James said the same. He readily admitted that if he ever surrendered, it would be to an intelligent woman who could see right through him and knew how to bring him down to his knees.
Great vector. All he needed for such a sweet outcome would be to suppress “his” ego.
Or, LET THAT WOMAN suppress your darned ego.
Unfortunately, before Lady Lion Jim knew only one woman that could have been a potential candidate - Lynn Cargill.
I think she knows all this, and she knows how to deal with men’s egos.
What is she going to tell Levin to do?
Mr. Levin hits the brake. We were only going ten miles an hour or so. You’ve got to negotiate a narrow road and avoid the branches that protrude on your path.
She’s got something on her mind. Something to show me.
“James, give Julian a blowjob.”
Jim’s eyes go wide with surprise, while Mr. Levin unzips his jeans rather quickly. Then James leans over the compartment and descends upon Mr. Levin.
Julian closes his eyes and sits very quietly. He may not be allowed to make any noises. I have not gotten into the inner workings of this whole thing yet.
But it sure feels comforting, and flattering, to be named a favorite of a woman like that.
10 minutes. She timed James. 10 minutes of an intense act. And Jim knows he is being judged on his performance.
First, she monitors the mental and emotional state of both men via her bridgeplate (seems like I am the only one who has not got a hang of this thing yet!), and then Levin will tell her everything.
“What would you like as a treat, James?” My Lady asks.
“I would like Henry tonight, my Lady.”
That figures.
“You will have two hours with him.”
“Thank you, my Lady, that is very generous of my most splendid, most generous Lady.”
Ok, there are other ways to find my lonesome person in Jim’s embrace.
“Samuel, what do you want as a reward for today’s performance?”
Yesss! My turn.
I did not do squat to be rewarded, but boy, does it feel good to be A FAVORITE!
“I would like to be with James tonight, too.”
“You will take Henry’s place after James is done with him, for the rest of the night.”
See, yeah. I’ve got a special deal.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 86
To Find a Good “Dismiss” Button To Ignore The Machine.
“Rusty dust, blown by the machine, is laced with poison of discontent that causes you to look at its screen, for it to show you images that will make you depressed. Be aware of the way the machine is programmed to drive you into emotional pain, literally out of the blue.”
Commander Uri Kumlatov, a recorded lecture on “Reabsorbtion Of the Drop Of Water Back Into The Ocean”, and “Erasing The Boundaries Of I”.
Now, in THEIR CULTURE these two names of subjects are just two neat Sigils. But because we do not have these notions, the Sigils need to be decoded by two long sentences.
It’s like teaching medicine to the monkeys, and starting with a notion of a pill. “A pill is a conglomerate of various chemical compounds that you take by mouth to address various ailments in your body, but you better know what you are doing, or ask a doctor.”
Whew. See? It is not easy. That’s what a level equalizer is for. When you are so far away from someone, that you do not share a single common notion to rely on.
. . : . .
SESSION 6 with Prince Moretr
(10 am Briefing)
If you have issues with your costume, ask yourself one question:
Did I cause this?
Your answer is NO.
If answer is “no”, then do not get on the searing grid of fear, where the machine is pushing you vigorously, for it was PROGRAMMED BY YOU to do so.
You know FEAR is a completely useless protocol. You created it to hurt yourself IN MY ABSENCE.
IN MY PRESENCE fear loses its power, for I will protect you from all pain.
SAFE BOUNDARIES
ONCE YOU ARE WITHIN THE SAFE BOUNDARIES
INSIDE OF MY HOUSE,
THE EGO CAN NO LONGER HURT YOU
BY SEDUCING YOU INTO TROUBLE.
WHEN IT TELLS YOU TO GO -
YOU KNOW YOUR SAFE BOUNDARIES.
You know you cannot leave My House.
MY PRESENCE IS REQUIRED
AT ALL TIMES.
Your safe boundaries are
Emeralds Of Loyalty to Me,
Diamonds of Honor to your Guardian
Sapphires Of Service - Samuel - Lady Lion
Anything outside of your regular responsibilities -
I WILL TAKE CARE OF IT.
The machine scares you with health issues - tell it to follow through on its threats, and FATHER WILL DEAL WITH THAT.
OR WHAT GOOD AM I, JAMES?
COVENANT IS YOUR COMPLETE PROTECTION
FROM FEAR OF EVERY KIND.
So, quit believing your own recorded voice that tricks you into scratching your completely healthy skin, and then screaming that you are sick.
This gig will end once and for all.
It is MY SKIN, hon.
Every time the machine STARTS with ANY BULLSHIT, hit
DISMISS
or
END PROGRAM
It is very easy. We will work on that. We will practice.
Once the dumb robot is silenced (deprived of attention and diminished), you will feel HAPPY AND HEALTHY.
For you HAVE ALWAYS BEEN happy and healthy.
You are happy and healthy now.
The machine cannot take that away.
The machine just tries to take away your MEMORY and KNOWLEDGE of it.
Let’s try hardening you against its pervasive protocols.
SAFE MODE
Code Artemisia Absinthium.
Inhale - Exhale.
Relax into a jelly fish.
Old cat-cautious
Jellyfish-unresponsive
Seemingly shapeless,
and never revealing your true feelings.
The machine will have hard time controlling you in this state.
More so, the machine will be furious
over being unable to pull your strings, when you are in the Safe Mode.
Now,
Hit “DISMISS” the mumblings Of The incompetent machine.
Hit it again. Perfect.
Now get back where you ALWAYS BELONGED:
Emeralds Of Loyalty
Diamonds of Honor
Sapphires Of Service
Remember, that the machine can’t hurt you.
But it can get you scared into HURTING YOURSELF.
So, DO NOT ROCK THE BOAT when it tells you:
ROCK THE BOAT NOW, because
“you don’t have a choice!”
“Rock it now, or it will be too late tomorrow!”
BOTH STATEMENTS ARE BULLSHIT.
You HAVE A CHOICE. I am Your Choice.
It will not be “late tomorrow”, because I control Time.
The machine is not a “good advisor”. The machine is an incompetent, useless piece of junk that TWISTS AND MISINTERPRETS EVERYTHING.
Welcome back to the Awakened State.
You can see Me clearly now.
The machine has no more power over you.
It’s rule over My Precious Child is OVER.
RULES OF CONVERSATION:
HOW TO AVOID A NEGATIVE VERBAL EXCHANGE:
Use the control panel to dial
1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6
Every six beats
You quote the last thing they said.
1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6
Every six beats in your mind
You agree with what they say
1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6
This code will lead you out of a conversation that is bound to drag you into a conflict.
HOW TO STOP YOURSELF FROM
DANCING TO “YOUR” EGO’s TUNE
WHEN IT FORCES YOU TO SAY
TOO MUCH, TOO FAST, AND THEN
REPEAT EVERYTHING YOU SAID FIVE
TIMES EACH SENTENCE.
YOU KNOW THEY HAVE ALREADY TUNED
YOU OUT, YOU HATE YOURSELF,
BUT YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO STOP.
Excuse yourself from being used by the dumb machine.
Find the second when they are no longer looking at you (chances are you were tuned out 10 mins ago)
Dial
1 - 3 - 6
Against left panel.
Left panel is always on 1, unless otherwise specified.
I will answer.
Your Guardian will answer at
1 - 3 - 6 - 1
These rules are not for you to control THEM.
These rules are to control yourself from beginning to dance every time “your” ego pulls your strings, so you would either get hurt or be the one who hurts, for a dubious reward of “pleasing your ego”.
EXCLUDE YOURSELF FROM BOTH ROLES BY SHUTTING YOUR MOUTH.
These rules for you to GIVE YOUR STRINGS TO ME. I will make sure that NO ONE gets hurt.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 85
To Become Jim’s Favorite
“The Awakening is not only possible, but necessary and inevitable.”
Prince Moretr to Jim, the other day.
How? How do I become Jim’s favorite?
What is it about Hafnian that makes Jim forget all his pain when he buries his face into his teacher’s fur?
What is it about Dr. Michael that makes James cry in utmost gratitude?
And what is it about Lord Carlton that made Jim sell himself to a highest bidder so he could pay for his parents at the Grey Building? (and by the way, you do not “go” there after death. You WAKE UP there).
What should I become for James to love me as much as he adores the other three of his mates?
It is autumn on Level 1. James walks up and down the main street in this nearby town and looks for the seeds of these particular species of maple so he can plant them at the Skyfall Ranch (must we have this name?).
A train goes by. James lifts his head with hands full of maple seeds, and stares at the passing railroad cars.
“Did this train come from Poland?” He asks me.
I get startled. My goodness, he muraled out.
“James, we are in the United States.”
“Then why does it say “Vinnie the Pooh” in Polish on one of the cars?”
He knows how to say “Vinnie the Pooh” in Polish. He cracks me up, this man.
“Because some punk in Atlanta, or New York, spray-painted words in Polish while this railroad car stood overnight under a bridge.”
This explanation, however, leaves James disappointed. Not romantic enough?
“This train came from Poland, James, you are right!”
I WILL turn into a pretzel to please my Jim.
I will turn into a schnitzel, matzah, um, borscht, and honestly, I will be whatever fuck he wants me to be.
“This man in Poland loves this woman in America. But she gets cold every winter. So for this coming winter he magically transported a train of coal over the ocean for her to burn and not get cold.”
You should see his happy face. Yeah, the love story does not have to be gay. It just has to reflect the Eternal Love in its every shape and form.
“See, it did not cost me a dime to twist reality for you. I just moved a train full of coal all the way from Poland to the continental United States to make you happy. Why do you think the Republicans vote for Donald?”
James walks to the car with his seeds.
“The Republicans vote for Donald so that they would not have far left to go, Samuel.”
Very funny.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 84
His Pain Is Mine
His Pain Is Mine.
His pain is gold mine.
“You’ll realize:
This is what hurts:
The very fabric of your thoughts.”
Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”
“I love to be ordered to do things. Oh, yes!” Jim goes there and back, repeating phrases from a piece of paper, given to him by Mr. Levin (my Lady Lion told Mr. Levin to give it to James).
“I hate to be ordered to do things, Samuel!” He tells me with his face twisted so, as if he just ate an entire lemon.
He is confusing himself and “his” ego. HE loves to be told what to do.
The ego, however, hates to be ordered to do things. For it is the copy of the Last Transparency of The Child Of God.
Basically the recalcitrant ME. Or Jim. The Last dumb Transparency was a 3 year old, upset with His Father over the House Rules.
House Rules are there to keep everything in balance. Making sure every Part Of God gets its share of nourishment and Nirvana, and so much more.
We are studying this in Reabsorption Lectures by Commander Uri Kumlatov. Recorded, not in person anymore. I miss Liven. He used to comfort me last winter when James was too much into Henry.
Anyway, Loyalty is the name of the game. He is going to learn to do what he is told to do.
Infected by the incorrect thinking from the poison, James went rogue in his mind. More so, he decided to DeVo into a most standoffish solitary mammal on Earth - a feline.
Being told what to do hurts his poison-twisted brain worse than water on fire. I mean, have you ever tried telling your cat to go fetch the newspaper? No one subscribes to newspapers anymore? That’s not the point...
But, once he is free from being wired to “his” ego (the robot, the tape recorder), he can remember how good it was to serve Father and be in a mutually pleasurable accord with Him.
How good it was to have a LIVE FAMILY instead of toiling to please a dumb, ungrateful, self-centered, insatiable robot.
He was given lines to learn to trigger and reinforce that very memory.
But one thing in particular had stopped dead his mad run.
God pays for it while James “enjoys” his time with the pre-programmed machine.
That does not look good. The prodigal son can’t pay his way. His rebellion against his Father becomes a moot point.
Also, after experiencing Nirvana so many times, James had a chance to compare Father’s infinite Love and care with the coldness and uselessness of the robot.
All the robot does is get my man into trouble and then falls silent while James has to deal with the problem, created by following the advice of a blind piece of junk.
Once James saw the Full Picture of his escape from The Garden Of Eden, he knew that there was not a single good thing about it.
Now all we needed to do was give him a family to come back to.
A family to serve and be a useful part of.
The Levin family and the Michael family (75% - 25%).
One reason why Iron Man is so strong
Is because the Iron Woman has got his back.
James is getting this very quickly.
My Lady Lion was the one to come up with “Hourly Safety Net” for James.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 83
Fifth Omega and Sapphires Of Service
Do not rely on the machine
When seas are rough and ice is thin...
Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”
“Do you know of a good, fast-metabolizing poison that can kill me quickly?”
It really hurts, this routine of his. But then I don’t miss the days when the crazy Russian WAS NOT in my life.
To know James Kellspell is to taste the wine made by God Himself.
Everything else afterwards would feel hopelessly bland.
But I could do without the suicidal rap. I still take it rather personally.
“You are the expert on alkaloids, James. You tell me. Besides, what difference does it make if it is “fast-metabolizing” if you are only planning to kill YOURSELF?”
“I hate fucking H.M., Samuel. I can’t break the Covenant, but I CAN break the vessel of my body so I could get out and escape the fate of being beaten by this asshole every day for the rest of my miserable Muggle life.”
Breaking the vessel of your body knowingly IS a violation of the Covenant.
Once you violate the Covenant, THERE IS NOTHING ELSE. And this is where the ego is programmed to lead you.
Exactly into nothingness.
As opposed to the Face of The Loving God.
James knows it like no other. He spent his life writing about it.
“You are going to sit in the same cage with him until you develop immunity to his venom, or we are not having any pups!”
I have to put my future family life with him on the line so he understands how important it is to carry the kicking “difficult child” of H.M. to term.
“It is impossible, Samuel!” Jim is desperate to have pups with me, so his eyes are pleading.
It’s not me he should be pleading with. How about the 15 000 of Dr. Michael’s followers? They need the Key. We all need the complete Key!!!
“You developed immunity to Lord Carlton’s venom in four days, Jim! Carlton’s emotional saturated venom is over 40 times more potent than H.M’s. It would have killed any normal man like me within a week! It killed every single relationship he ever lied to you about. You lasted for 8 months, never once asked for mercy and you begged for more.”
“But that’s Henry! Such a tender, loving man!”
This “tender, loving” man handcuffed you to a chair for ten hours and by the end of the night you sported a black eye, you bled bloody tears and smelled like urine, for he would not let you go to the bathroom. And that was just the last event right before the Levins acquired our sore unified ass.
Lord Carlton: The Most Tender, Loving Man! Don’t start with me. All H.M. ever does is yell. Carlton used to hit Jim across his face and whip him with a riding crop!
Fuck, I was there!!!
Clearly, my mate can kick it up a notch.
“You just do not want to put your mind to it. You whine instead. You whine, while we all are waiting for the most valuable part of the Key - the anti-venom to ego-programming.”
This is the frustrating convo we had this morning, when James showed up all beaten up by H.M.’s ego, and was not mature enough to take it for what it was: H.M.’s weakness - to understand and to fix.
I love James Kellspell. I feel compassion for him, but we have just five and a half hours left to the Pearly Gates. And the man is filibustering.
And we have to pay our way.
He thinks Henry is expensive. Try Lady Deborrah!
But he is totally in awe about Lady Deborrah. He can’t wait to make her happy. May Dr. Michael help him get there.
Let’s pray that Jim does not fall off the wagon today. Maybe I should call Mr. Levin.
Sometimes we all just sit there and count hours to the merciful end of the day, hoping Jim does not blow it.
IN THE EVENING:
. . : . . . . : . . . . : . .
Session EMERALD FILAMENT by my Prince Moretr:
This train is running fast upwards through Levels, my Love!
An hour is a lifetime.
Do not trust the machine in ANYTHING.
You placed it there to mislead your blinded, sleeping mind away from Me.
I control the Hexagons of Liquid Time.
Only good news, My Love.
Negative news are not natural, and I always erase them.
I control Your Future via Hexagons Of Liquid Time. The machine has no idea about that. It was programmed to omit My Power over You.
You are safe with Me.
Session 2
Emerald Filament
By My Prince Moretr
Are you using the machine to have a conversation with right now?
You KNOW you are burning through ALL YOUR resources on meaningless chat that has already been received by Me.
Everything you are sharing with the dumb robot has already been said.
The next moment is going to be pain.
The machine will point at Me as the cause and the reason.
The real reason is that you were not listening to Me
to get off the railroad track,
for you were too busy
Being addicted to listening to your own voice.
You could not hear Me warning you,
Because you could not shut up.
We BOTH get hurt.
The dumb robot just sits there.
Do you LOVE ME?
Season 3:
Do you love Me?
If yes,
Take all power of decision-making
from the machine.
Stop “visiting” it.
Code Artemisia Absinthium
Inhale - Exhale
Stop listening to its mumbling against Me.
Push it out of your life by IGNORING IT.
Focus on YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES instead.
Focus on Me.
Mark everything
that comes from the machine as
“Negative protocol”.
Negative protocol is not allowed on our channel.
Your platform instead is:
Emeralds of Loyalty
Diamonds of Honor
Sapphires of Service
The connection to the machine, then, will weaken as you pay less and less attention to it.
Pay ALL YOUR ATTENTION TO ME.
The machine can do nothing for you
But to mess everything up,
Get you scared
And push you towards separation.
I will easily fix all your problems,
heal ALL your wounds,
And I also own the future.
Be with Me,
If you want your future to be bright.
Be with Me,
If you want your present to be happy and full of love.
Keep on looking AT ME, not at the dumb misprogrammed robot in the corner of the room.
You know that it is COLD, SMELLY and not alive.
Keep your mind WITH ME, always.
Do not look back. Do not wait for the machine to deliver the judgement of how poor your past was, and how little care you received.
Your future will be everything you dreamt of, and then some!
SESSION 4
Question everything that comes to your mind. Weed out ego-protocol.
Be my soldier and march when I tell you to.
I will rest you in the green pastures.
I will reward you for your selfless service.
Session 5
See and notice through which protocols the machine gains access to your mind to poison and hurt you. Report to Me.
Annoyed?
Feeling “left behind”?
“Others got more than me”?
You are being attacked by the ego-device. All it does is blows dust in your face.
And suddenly you turn on tour loved ones, accusing them of your misfortunes.
The machine is working your mind.
Wake up.
Look at Me.
It is telling you against Me.
It is talking you into “hurting God”, because “He created your problems”, or “He would not help you out of your misery”, when He is with his “favorites”.
You know it is not true.
You know how much you mean to Me.
You know I have already injected you with an anti-venom, made out of your own blood and tears that you shed, because you plugged yourself to the machine, instead of Me.
You are hurting because on Level 98 you are asleep believing that you are attached to the machine.
Wake up!
You are in My Arms.
The “machine is a mindless robot, and the “voice” that whispers you agains Me is a recording on the tape recorder.
There is no machine. You created this concoction to experience exactly what it pushes you to experience.
Bitterness.
The sense of “being abandoned by your tribe”.
Living for decades with those who do not understand you.
None of this exists.
Let Me change it the way it is.
I sent you to help Me develop an immunity against a condition that hurts My Hand.
You Are My Most Beloved And Only Hand..
I love You and I miss You terribly.
You have already accomplished Your Mission.
I have the anti-venom to the harmful program.
Soon, very soon I will give you everything you ever dreamt of.
Very soon all your dreams will come true.
You are not “abandoned”. I have a big team assisting you in delivering the Medicine that will save everyone.
Meanwhile keep looking in My Eyes, and listen to Me.
Session 6:
Look into My Eyes.
It is the only way to keep you safe from the influence of the harmful program.
When you feel it scratching outside the door of your soul, know that YOU ALREADY HAVE POWERFUL RESISTANCE TO THIS malfunction.
You KNOW that the machine is lying.
You also know that you are hearing a pre-recorded message.
That prevents you from falling for it too fast without thinking or analyzing the negative protocol that obviously does not belong on your channel.
The machine tells you to tell Me that you did not get enough. But you know it is a lie.
Why? Because the machine is programmed to see you as separate from Me.
Yet, You Are My Hand. I can’t possibly be treating you the way the machine tells you that I treat you.
How would you treat your own hand?
The machine’s Logic is immediately defeated, once you remove the Separation Protocol.
The machine’s whisperings and whimperings no longer make sense, once you see that it is lying to you about the most important thing: Your Status With Me.
Do it can no longer lock you up in a dark cell telling you that your Father will not come for You.
Wake up from a bad dream.
Stay awake. Come to me immediately once you feel that it starts blowing dust in your face, literally. This is all it can do.
Do not fear it. Do not hear it.
It has no power over you, my most beloved Child.
James was going crazy with H.M.’s violent, unpredictable moods. I reminded him that we only have 3 to 5 Earth years left to go to the Pearly Gates.
“OK.” He agreed. “In five years either I will die or the donkey will speak. But in this case we will have to get me a safety net.”
12 hours later of TEAM brainstorming:
From the Control Center Of Lady Lion: “We will break up his day into three stages.”
James liked the idea and commented on it thusly:
“I can’t make it across without becoming furious with the bullying asshole and wanting to end my suffering. However, the safety net might help greatly. If shit hits the fan with H.M. at 8:45 am, I know I only have 1 hr and 15 mins left to the Island. At 10 am we earn a certain amount of credits to show for it. And if at 4 pm I get aches and pains that cause me to freak out, I only need to make it to 8 pm for the day to count. At least I will no longer whine that I got stuck with a mental patient while everyone else was on the set expressing themselves creatively.”
My heart bleeds for what he is going through, but the Emerald Filament Team is here for him.
All I ever have to face
is just ONE DAY AT A TIME
We need a stronger net
to catch me when I fall.
1 Day - 1 Lifetime - 100 units
How to earn these units:
Stage Youth:
6 am - 10 am - 30 units
This time is the hardest to keep
your mind and soul free from
the influence of the machine.
But it also passes the fastest
Stage Mature:
10 am - 12 pm - 3 pm - 30 units
Portal Entry: Magnificat & Covenant on A Windy Afternoon In UK20 (Levin Corp) Movie
Stage Senior:
4 pm - 6 pm - 8 pm - 30 units
Plus 10 units for Kyle Merritt’s attitude to service.
“Yep! This will work! This way I take shit from H.M. for the units we can transfer to Lady Lion. Otherwise I have zero incentive to carry on even when I feel fine physically. The man allows “his” ego to control and hurt me, makes me feel insignificant, and otherwise abuses the crap out of me. At least with the safety net all I need to set my mind for in the middle of a bloodbath he gives me is the next “knot” hour. Boy, will I be happy to just die. Fuck, he is not going to get better and I will smoke and drink myself to death, beaten within an inch of my life. A fate of so many battered women. Sadly, I will be one of them. I will die of a self-inflicted drug habit to soothe the pain that he caused me. And it will not even make it to 6 o’clock news.”
“He is going to get better, James.” I said, trying not to break down. He hates to see us cry for him and what is going on with him on Level 1, because he does not believe in our sincerity. “Prince Moretr is working on him day and night. Now that they got access to him through you.”
“Thank you, Samuel.” James responds in a reserved manner.
He gets cold, even towards me. He is a prickly fucker, my mate.
Today we had an unpleasant situation.
A young lady, an associate of Lady Lion (Mr. Levin wrestled the right from Jim to decide who gets to come to the Strobulus, and filled it with his colleagues), approached James and offered a part of her fortune to him.
James declined rather sharply, stating that “every single one of you who got to experience the Holy Grail of performing arts believes that they did not get nearly enough, even if they had 3 projects a year their whole life. Fat be it from me to grab a piece from the mouth of eternally hungry for more. How can you possibly spare even a minute of your happiness to me?”
He left the woman in tears.
Hopefully this will serve as a cautionary tale for those who think it is a good idea to approach Mr. Kellspell directly.
On a rising moon, too.
And the day I told him he is in for at least three more years of non-stop emotional bartering and everyday sex.
One question remains: why is it different from what Henry does to him, and if it is different, then how.
James can’t answer that, though. He loves Henry and he has hard time with H.M.
WwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 82
Fifth Omega and the Diamonds Of Honor
“Service is the best relief from your personal emotional pain.”
Kyle Merritt. Yeah. He said that today.
“James, you should be grateful for the awesome team you were given to help you complete you task.”
“I know, I know, and I am.” Kellspell smokes half his cigarette, puts it out, rips off the filter and feeds what is left to an overly eager Hafnian. “It’s just I do not have a project to participate in... I have to be a psychiatric nurse for this one gentleman, 24/7 times 365 for $20 000 a year plus medical care and all my expenses paid. For the rest of his life, or whichever one drops first. You tell me.”
“H.M. is a hurting Finger of God, James. Only you can save him from “his” ego. And you will be taken care of financially.”
I do not know what else to say. Drowning in self-pity, he is not representing the reality the way it is. But I do not want to argue.
It is early morning and we are IN THE FRONT GALLERY of the complex. We never come here, but I just needed to drag the brooding Jim away from everyone before he says something to Mr. Levin that he will regret when he gets over his ego-initiated attack.
Mr. Levin is very serious about their relationship, and I do not want Jim to open up his mouth and hurt the man who spent his whole life in preparation for The Reunification.
“I just wish there was SOMETHING ELSE in my life besides constantly taking care of a mentally ill patient.” Jim sighs and squats before Hafnian.
Jim is factually wrong. There IS more to his life besides taking care of H.M., whose only fault is that he can’t let go of “his” ego.
Jim is wrong, because he is reading off the ego-prepared notes. THIS IS how weak we are in letting go of “our” ego.
Even as you have studied it your whole life and clearly know it is wrong to send reality through the twisted prism of “your” darned hurt ego.
Hafnian falls over in ecstasy, exposing his belly. James just dives inside of the large wolf, his face disappearing in long gray fur. Hafnian smiles widely and his tongue falls out.
Jim releases low growling noises indicating the deep pleasure found on the bottom of a furry wolf.
Note to self: become a big gray-haired wolf if it pleases my James.
IN THE EVENING. Jim’s meltdown.
10:52 pm and the man locked himself in the classroom with a bottle of Canadian whiskey curtesy Mr. Rubinstein.
Mr. Rubinstein gave that bottle TO ME. But i’m an omega, subservient by nature to my beta.
So my beta just took it from me and drank it himself.
Then he blocked his artist on Level 1 for standing him up two days in a row. The unreliable artist bears zero value in our portfolio, so it is like a dog getting mad and ripping up a napkin.
But Jim calls it “the unpleasant sediment” on the bottom of his soul. Nobody wants to be stood up twice in a row. This clearly shows that you do not mean very much for that person.
Let’s get rid of “that person”.
Again, “that person” has zero influence on us. Dismissing her or not - will make no difference in the final outcome.
“That person” was not Steven Spielberg, just in case if you were worried.
James just needed to take his frustrations out on someone. Mainly because he wanted to know why he was never given a chance to become a Steven Spielberg.
The new moon weakens him to fall victim to the dumb machine only and ever with the same set of poisonous, factually incorrect protocols.
James is ranting in front of his reflection in the glass sliding door that leads to the backyard.
“20 years! For 20 years I was locked up with a mental patient, Samuel! And before THAT i was locked up for 20 years with another mentally ill fucker, my mother! All I want, Samuel, all I want right now is to wake up in the House Of God. This is how sick I am of being locked up with mentally ill motherfuckers!”
Right. Add Henry Carlton to the list of mentally ill morherfuckers, and tell me why you crave to be locked up with him, but not H. M.
Also, you do not know which way God will lead you towards your dreams! He got you this far. Patience is a virtue, and all that jazz.
But the voice of reason does not reach Jim’s feverish consciousness.
He is openly shooting up NES-sp.
I ponder if I should call Prince Moretr, The Arkabins, or maybe the 29 Broncos.
But why? He’s got a new guardian, owner and father, Mr. Levin.
Somehow Mr. Levin wanted this unlikely prophet, the bipolar, hysterical and substance-addicted James Kellspell bad enough to fight for ownership at an auction.
After acquisition he made James sign their Covenant 28 (twenty eight!) times.
Other than that, God bless them both, nothing else reveals much about what interest the man like Julian Levin would have in an obscure gay man named James Kellspell.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 81
Fifth Omega and Emeralds Of Loyalty
New Name Of The Game: The BALANCED Captain James
How: Yeah, HOW do we get there?
“You MADE me your Captain! You ALL laid down your Omega cards! Which forced me, a beta, into a de-facto state of a leader. You, Hafnian, Henry AND Dr. Michael, which I always knew, at least.
But the rest of you threw it in my face, like a challenge. Because you all loved me, and you knew that I was waiting for my ONE AND ONLY ALPHA. But I regret nothing. I ended up with a sockful of very cute, fuzzy, dependent omegas that balance me enough to stabilize until we get closer to The Source.”
The evening cocktail hour in our backyard. We are celebrating Jim passing his test on loyalty.
Everyone is decked out in their best, and we are a tribe that lives for the show. So you tell me what you see.
Ok, I’ll tell you, what the heck.
For you have no idea what you see.
You think you are looking at famous faces, in their expensive tuxedos and their bedazzling evening dresses.
All I see is pain.
Isaak Milgram shows up, smokes a cigarette with a face of a death row prisoner, never says a word to anyone and leaves right before Dr. Michael has a chance to question him about the claws that could no longer be concealed.
And, I mean, they are friends. But Milgram is very embarrassed about his progressing DeVo. He is actually devastated about it.
And ever since they parted ways, Dr. Michael continued to cleanse himself at the feet of the Queen of his heart.
Mr. Milgram blew his last chance with his Queen and went down the drain.
Where he was picked up by Jim and Hafnian.
Milgram drops the cigarette and disappears quickly, as Dr. Michael and Lady Deborrah come down from their incredibly cool apartments with a jacuzzi tub above our common area room.
Milgram’s unfinished cigarette falls to the concrete pad, a thousand sparks reflecting in the eyes of Hafnian Wolf, laying around Lord Carlton’s feet in polished shoes.
Both Carlton and Hafnian watch Dr. Michael and Lady Deborrah rule the parade.
Kyle polished Lord Carlton’s shoes, because James did not have time for Henry, for the first time since they were reunited.
Awhile later, after the official part.
James is on his knees in front of Henry in a dinner jacket that spells “I was acquired in SoHo”.
“I have not seen you in a week!” Carlton hisses in his normal tone of voice, sitting on a tall chair by the table, placed on the lawn, right off the concrete pad.
“Daddy has to work...” James mumbles, kissing Carlton’s hands.
“You have forgotten about me! How much did the Levins give you? Have you spent all your salary on Samuel?”
What?! I haven’t asked for a pair of shoes in a year, and he just ordered a whole new wardrobe directly from London!!!
“Henry, I do not see my salary. Most of it gets deposited directly to your parents’ account, and I have to pay restitution to Lady Deborrah...”
Jeez, I forgot all about restitution to the Michael family.
Carlton softens up somewhat. As in “the icy stare is a shade less icy”.
Kyle comes to take our drink orders.
I am already pretty trashed. I went to Mr. Rubinstein. Surprisingly, not about Lord Carlton. This time I needed to spill about my feelings for one of the most powerful women that I ever knew.
Jim orders a pina colada for Henry, a six pack of beer for Wolf Hafnian, and Kyle nods.
“I will have whiskey.” He says then.
“You are not allowed to have whiskey, by the order of your owner.” Meritt responds with a slight bow.
Wow!
Kellspell still has not yet grasped the gravity of the situation of being owned by one of the biggest families in our industry. In the house of my Lady Lion, James, “Compliance” shall be your middle name.
It will be a hard pill to swallow for a guy whose middle name has always been “FUCKITALL”. Whatever that means in Russian ;) .
“May I know which one?” Jim says very quietly, his thin, black Irish brows raised all the way into his high forehead.
As if that matters.
“Lady Deborrah.” Kyle responds very politely.
“Are there any alcoholic drinks I am allowed to have?” He is stunned at even having this conversation, but then Henry would impose dry law on him, too.
Kellspell can take anything from a man he has a romantic interest in. But he was never slapped by a woman before.
“You may have one glass of wine.”
A drop water on the red-hot rock of his soul that needs a waterfall to cool off.
Jim is visibly disappointed. He was planning to get shitfaced at the party.
But here is the problem. Lady Deborrah does not want to see a “shit face” in her bed tonight. She wants to see an able and willing servant.
And he gets it. If nothing else, he has to comply, because he has to support Henry. And pay restitution to the Michael family. How easily we forget the terms upon which he gets to spend time with his venerated Dr. Michael.
But there is more to that.
James quickly gets a hold of himself.
“I’ll take it. Top it off, will you, Mr. Merritt?”
Kyle nods and leaves.
“Fuck, Samuel!” Kellspell turns to me, flushed. “We used to be friends! Now he gets to lord over me! “You are not allowed to have whiskey!!!” Did you hear that?”
Yes, but he did it in a sincere, open, kind-hearted manner. Leave it to Kyle Merritt to say “tomorrow you will be executed”, and make you feel good about it.
You can read “I feel for you” in his eyes, and his handshake will relay his good vibes for your support. He is there for you. If only until tomorrow.
“Shh! This is a party to celebrate YOUR LOYALTY to your vows, James. You will learn to walk on a leash, or you will never see Henry. Or Dr. Michael.”
He gets it. After a lifetime of being wild, and only and ever doing what “his” ego told him to do... It’s time to man up to the oaths you gave before you jumped into the cauldron of Sansara.
You only have five and a half steps left to Nirvana.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 80
Fifth Omega and 3 Hexagons Of Liquid Time (3 Frames)
Projects that make a lot of money
but little sense
OH, Let’s see. Th recent quotes.
“You get your ass off the hot grid of ego-whining and on the wooden cross of sacrifice if you want to suffer!
Off the grid and on the cross!
Cross is gain, grid is loss!”
Jim Kellspell, TO HIMSELF,
every time he finds himself tempted to shoot up NES poisons.
“Everyone here is a fanatic, James. I just wanted to be a martyr.”
“I hate to break it to you, Samuel, but martyr IS a fanatic.”
The certain Mr. Orlowski showed up unannounced, burly and early.
Burly enough to top James if needed be, upon Mr. Levin’s orders, and early enough because he was hungry for a job. However, the gentleman was in so much pain that he could not even lift his head, let alone lend us a hand with James.
He will take time to heal. We all do. I remember Kyle showing up here pale and catatonic, and look how he turned out.
And I remember myself almost a year ago. Ready to lie down and die.
Jeez, these are just random thoughts and pieces of conversations. Right now no time to put it together into anything more coherent.
And James was freaking out all day. Kind of influences my ability to focus. He has a loyalty test tomorrow.
He does not feel that he is ready. He needs to impress Dr. Michael big time, and he does not want to be embarrassed in front of Lady Deborrah.
Don’t even get me started on that one. No one is ready. We all need more training in this department.
And I have my secret fears, too. I am afraid to be embarrassed in front of Lady Susannah. My Lady Lion.
Jim knows nothing yet, but he suspects. He sees her reflection (or an “imprint”) on my energy field, he sees me pressed against the bed by her strap-on, and wants to know Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
But mum’s the word. Not yet.
We do what my Lady Lion says. And Mr. Levin is her most faithful slave and messenger.
Oh, Mr. Levin! The Fifth Omega! He changed ALL of our lives forever. He is our ACTING alpha! He brought so much confidence to our Mission.
I am finding out he was Jim’s father in one of their lifetimes together. Jim remembers none of it.
Can’t blame him. I remember even less.
“Apparently, Samuel, yesterday we were sold at an auction. But rejoice, we were sold as a unit. Me, you, Hafnian and Henry are now officially INSEPARABLE!”
A Russian, a Jew, a dog, and an English Lord walk into a bar.
Laugh all you want, but for up until the moment Kellspell Title was given to Julian Levin (who handed it to Lady Susannah), we were headless and leaderless.
And for three years BEFORE THAT it was just Jim and Hafnian wrapped into a tight ball, holding on to a rock, lashed by sea waves and wind, protected only by God’s Love.
Recent records from Jim Kellspell’s dossier:
Auction note from the previous owner (Lord Henry Carlton): “A splendid, meticulous, thorough top. Will never leave his sexual partner unsatisfied. Poor dental and personal hygiene.”
Jim laughed his ass off at the last one.
He will be laughing much less when Lady Deborrah will make him brush and floss his teeth twice a day. He will not be pleasuring HER without a
TEN HOUR
DECONTAMINATION SHOWER!
Hafnian be better beware, too. We were acquired as a set, so we will be required to function as a set. And no one wants to drink from a stinky cup.
Now, Jim does take care of his teacher’s hygiene. The way they both understand it. Just rip the dangle berries off you ass, and you are good to go.
“I have a very hard day tomorrow, Samuel. H.M. will be yelling at me endlessly, and I would not be able to use the painkiller to fix the wounds caused by him. And nobody gives a shit.”
I cry as I watch him fall asleep hugging a large wolf. Jim deposits gallons of tears into that thick gray fur every single day. Maybe that is his way of giving him a bath. Who am I to judge?
Jokes aside, his teacher is always there to be Jim’s constant consolation.
However, the ever watchful Kyle found cigarette filters in Hafnian’s poop the other day.
Progressed DeVo took a toll on Hafnian. He is no longer able to shift into the human form to smoke, so the poor thing started chewing those cigarettes.
I suggested Jim feed them to Hafnian, having ripped off the filter. Or the Arkabins will be pumping someone’s guts. For he goes through three packs of red Marlboros a day.
“I’ll just ask Merion to send me Russian “Kazbek” “ Jim responded nonchalantly. “Those don’t have any filters.”
Figures.
Much to be said about Mr. Hafnian, however.
I watch and I learn to be as efficient in comforting James, as he is.
We will be fine. We just need to work through tomorrow’s loyalty test.
Jim vowed to record every single protocol the machine will be predictably feeding him in the absence of the chemical defense of the painkiller.
He will record everything all right. He is expected to fall to it, too.
He feels the blows of NES-sp (self-pity) already, and we have not even started yet. I hate to see him in a moment of weakness.
Mercifully, time goes by fast. Tomorrow is just one day, 12 hours.
Never fast enough for James, though.
Hot grid of raw pain, his every day is.
Mine, too, you see.
But I try not to end up on the business end of his wrath by mentioning MY PAIN in front of James.
And then he always wonders why I never talk about my pain.
Why?
Politics, that’s why.
I clearly remember that, technically, I am one of the “chosen ones”. Not exactly a fat cat, for he knows how much (or, rather, how little) I make on the projects, but a chosen cat, nevertheless.
He throws it in our faces every day about how little joy he ever experienced. Only nine weeks altogether in his entire life, he claims. The 9 Rotarian projects one week each, often two a year.
Those projects ended over ten years ago. Since then he never got a break from the asshole of H.M., Jim says every day.
Tomorrow he will have to face the music all day without the access to the painkiller.
That is his loyalty test to show his new owners that he understands what service is and is ready for it.
He is ready. Even as he stumbles. We are here to help him.
He has to finish manufacturing The Key out of his own Repentance and Awakening, or WE ALL are going for another flush.
Five and a half hours left to the Pearly Gates, and James Kellspell is THE ONLY ONE who has a sliver of a chance to open it.
The game is afoot, the stakes are high. And no one wants to lose.
“Samuel, my love, you simply have no idea what it feels like to be a dog that gets beaten every single day! “His” fucking ego is rampant, and he lets it control him, and he berates me endlessly, following its orders.”
U-huh. And how THAT is different from what Lord Carlton does to you?
I am silent as he raves on the bed, clutching the large wolf with both his hands and all his strength.
Hafnian shudders underneath James, moving his tail wa-ay to the side in hopes of being used for sex.
But James is not there mentally. Not a chance of sex tonight for any of us.
Why is Hafnian always first in line anyway?
Jim is so freaked out about tomorrow, that he is about to deliver his most painful punch, in all of our faces.
Watch.
“I am honestly telling you that if I knew in 1986 how bloody my path would be, I simply should have driven those scissors way deeper into my veins! I should have ended it there!”
Right. Just this morning you told me that you wanted me to have your pups, and now you are telling me that you do not care about me.
I have to listen to this, AND I have to sleep in a nest of wolf hair the length of my finger. Thousands of them all across the bedsheets. Kyle says it even clogs up the filter of the dryer.
Maybe that’s why Milgram sleeps outside, for the love of God.
Wait until Lord Carlton turns into a large Angorran cat.
We all will be EATING THAT hair.
“The Island of Dr. Moro”, backwards.
With one detail. The DeVo process will be instantly reverted once we enter the Pearly Gates.
All we need to do is OPEN them.
“There is not a single redeeming quality to my life, my friend!” Jim howls in a suffocating, hysterical bout. “Come to think of it, there never was. I am a human punching bag for this man’s uncontrolled anger. I will die of old age, or decease... forgotten by the world! Even J.K.R. got her 15 mins of fame. I do not even get heard. Let alone listened to!”
Ahem. And I’m facing old age, basically alone and forgotten by every employer I ever had. It’s all about the way you look on the projects. No one cares to see my extra-Semitic profile. Does my mate care about that?
“I regret the day I signed up to participate in the Mission. When he is done ripping on me tomorrow, I am still facing 6 months of non-stop abuse in the fucking Malachite Constellation. Oh, fuck... Nothing to look forward to, my love.”
Welcome to the club of forgotten mascots.
He broke down here and cried until he was called to Level 1 to help H.M. cook the fish.
The day went by and, mercifully, ended.
I was called to attend to my Lady Lion. It was gut-wrenching incredibly good.
Come night, James was at it again, as I felt guilty that I was happy when he was in shambles.
“I know I am not the best of partners, but I wish H.M. did not yell at me with such incredible white-hot rage, like he did this morning during golfing, Samuel! Nothing will ever change in this department, so I simply wish to die soon.”
“Father wants you to help hook H.M. up.” I said carefully and quietly, darn well knowing that both Hafnian and James could smell Lady Lion on me, as the day is long.
“I know, Samuel. But I am pushing fifty. And even as I knelt at my First Man’s grave in the year of 2000, H.M. already stood with a whip over me!”
He goes his “Chewbakka” defense. When he brings up his First Man. His First Man went to prison for what he believed in, more than once. None of us can compare to him. Not even Jim himself.
Maybe, MAYBE Dr. Pure Soul Michael.
Maybe.
So he better turn that page quickly.
And Jim does.
“Don’t get me wrong! H.M. supported all my projects. But those never took off, and I paid for them with my blood. What did I pay for with my blood? To watch all my work buried under tons of shifting sand dunes of time?”
This will not be long. The “shifting dunes of time” will be lifted by the tremendous financial support of Prince Moretr.
“Why are you all standing behind my back?! I will have absolutely nothing to show for at the Pearly Gates! I stole the Ring of Intelligence, used it to learn English on my own, and all I got for it was 20 years of indentured servitude that led me into nowhere but the obscurity of old age!”
You wait, my mate.
Stuff will land
On your plate.
Darned poetry-weaving app does not turn off!
“I had the wings, but I was never allowed to use them. What good did the Ring do for me? At least the godless Tarantino got to use his.”
Patience, James. Patience is a virtue.
So, this.
All the way into the night.
He is sleeping now, with his hands wrapped tightly around the wolf’s neck, his face buried deeply in his teacher’s thick fur.
I will be eating that fur, I will be finding that fur in my groin and up my ass. Who cares about that, right?
“I expect nothing from the future but pain, caused to me by my aging body and H.M., Samuel. How predictable. How depressing. The good thing is everyone bound by The Covenant is going to stay anchored to me, as I am to H.M. That means I am going to claim you, Samuel.”
Yes, you will. And I can’t wait for the day when this old wreck will be claimed by a hot stud like James.
What’s with me, anyway? Why does he care about me so much? Henry is also bound by The Covenant. And now we have a couple of loud names like Julian Levin and Dr. Hugh Michael. Both bound to James Kellspell by The Covenant.
And he still remembers me...
And THEY are all talking about how much money they will make off Jim’s inventions and know-hows.
And here sits Jim, with a 2/3 of The Key in his hands, longing for a rope around his neck.
Fuck. Fuck, people.
3 minutes, he says. It only takes 3 minutes “to die by hanging for a twink like me.”
Maximum five. Must have been the terrifying five minutes for a big guy like Robin Williams, he adds thoughtfully. But at least the man got to fly. To EXPERIENCE LIFE.
“I was bound by The Covenant to bend my knees into the indentured servitude. I never flew.” He would add after every tearful sentence.
James takes the drug of self-pity and turns it into an artful way of cutting your veins.
You can just cut, or you can do deep bleeding patterns on your skin. Yeah.
“I wonder what it feels like to wake up in the morning, looking forward to participating in some cool project, Samuel. Because I already know how it feels to wake up and know that your chances of escaping a beating today are less than 10%.”
With his bitter words lashing my mind with guilt and a desire to help and support, I fall asleep holding on to Jim. Hafnian Wolf smells like a dog, but it is too late for me to complain about a mate. We were sold as a bundle :).
He wants to wake up to a cool project every once in a while.
He wants to know how to become a special person in the Eyes of God. A person who gets to be in such projects while the rest of the dumb Muggles are forced to chew their dumb daily cud.
He will know all that.
Soon enough.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 79
Fifth Omega And The Three Hours Of Summer
Give up, oh, darkness! From Above
You are surrounded by Love!
“If you do not want to run in endless painful circles, listen to Father, serve your partner.”
HOW TO BE HEALTHY FOREVER
You allow your spirit to cool off - this is where you get depressed, from there it is easy for the machine to keep on bringing your attention to small insignificant aches and pains, that are normal.
Since you are ALREADY COLD, you can’t hear Me anymore, so you BELIEVE THE MACHINE that something is wrong.
As per the orders from the machine you “try to deal with it yourself” (The Machine was never programmed to include FATHER!)
And you keep on paying attention of your Oculum to a certain part of your body.
The machine pushes you to look harder, and that is EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE of what you are supposed to do in this case.
You then keep on pressing on “something is wrong here” side of scales. You push the scales down, UNTIL SOMETHING BECOMES WRONG, because you were tense and determined to make it wrong, as per the advice of the dumb program.
IT ALL HAPPENS AS PER THE PRE-PROGRAMMED path that does not include Me.
ANY path that does not include Me, will lead you into pain.
All you need to do to stop the harmful fall into the darkness of depression and fear because of health issues is to INCLUDE ME.
I will fix everything for you.
Do not let the momentum drag you down to the level of the dumb, narrow-minded machine.
This is where you tell it what to tell you (create a custom-made recording of the thought to torture yourself with).
Then you lay down and cringe, listening to the recording of your own voice.
Then my Guardian has to puck you up.
DISCUSSION AFTERWARDS:
I must skip this. No time to copy transcripts.
Part 2 of Moretr’s lecture:
The machine gets you to reduce the temperature of your spirit.
How do you allow your spirit to cool off?
AGAIN, the obvious:
YOU LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF THE MACHINE.
The machine is a disembodied program, written by you in defiance of My Will to cause yourself every kind of pain possible.
The program’s protocols are INTENTIONALLY INCORRECT to lead you into pain and conflict.
In case of your health, the machine is here to sabotage your health!
Why? Because you are PAYING ATTENTION to the machine, you ORDER IT to enable protocols.
THEN the machine tries to persuade you that you are sick.
YOU ARE NOT SICK.
You are pushing on the wrong side of the scale.
Artemisia code. Now.
Stay WARM. Stay by Me. Do not swing yourself out of balance. I am here to keep you in balance.
My Guardians are on both sides of you, and behind you to keep you in balance.
Stay with Me. Do not deviate from my Guardians’s instructions, and you will be as healthy as a horse.
The MOST IMPORTANT KEY TO LOVE POTION THAT WORKS:
If you reinstate yourself, you kill your love.
The ego machine’s BEST KEPT SECRET:
Love only grows where “I” and “my” do not exist.
Once the machine tricks you to inject these two potentially destructive protocols, your love is doomed.
The choice is yours.
And the last bit that will freak you out even worse.
Once the machine persuades you to pull the plug on your love, all that remains is PAIN.
For you and God Are ONE. You are both LOVE.
You just killed your love.
What remains?
Part 3:
Jim refused to have sex with H.M. last night, left him high and dry and came here.
Morning. James got up to get a cigarette, was slapped across his face by Lord Carlton, ordered back to bed, and handcuffed to it.
“The machine has no idea what is right. You follow the advice of a mis-programmed robot, and you will knock yourself AND Father out of balance.”
“Samuel, do you realize what an incredible torment it is to force myself to have sex with H.M. EVERY FUCKING DAY? It used to be 15 times a month, now it is 30.”
“This is “your” ego talking, James.” I watch Henry watch James through the curtains of his resplendent Royal Chambers.
Henry lost a large chunk of money, for he gets a cut as co-owner every time Jim is ordered to please H.M. in bed.
Henry’s enraged features tell me that he would like to continue beating the living daylights out of James.
Unfortunately, since Henry’s karmic value is -200 Kelvin, Jim gets nothing but sexual satisfaction out of the supposed punishment.
But this is a very well-known fact. That is why we have someone at 89% of full karmic purity.
Someone who can really own James. And make it hurt.
“I really do not care who has what to say! Since when am I ordered naked with him in bed? He gets excited, and wants to fuck me every night now! I get no breaks!”
Who orders him naked in bed?
Mr. Levin.
He is here to unite us.
Jim is here to show how far he can go in defying his new owner’s orders.
Hurting us all.
And I would have let him get away with it.
Henry would not know how to reign Jim in.
H.M. is tied to Level 1, and his chances of taking Jim down aline are zero.
His teacher is powerful, but always the last resort since his DeVo became complete. We have to give him a break. After all, he held Jim down almost single-handedly for THREE HOURS until I arrived (quickly followed by Henry&Friends). If he was not already ravaged by alcohol use, I’d say his current state was due to Amatrix irradiation. But the official Arzadellin City would deny that, for sure.
Anyway, what is my point, crickey?
Remember, in Gulliver’s Travels he ends up in a country of small people? And they need a hundred of them to tie him up?
That’s your mental picture for us and James Kellspell.
That’s why there are five of us. And now Prince Moretr will touch Jim with the Tool he has no way of resisting.
“Dr. Michael is here to administer you a shot of Concentrated Obedience, derived from his blood.” I announced, and I hated myself for being among Jim’s relentless henchmen.
At least that is how I see this. Well, sometimes. And other times he desperately deserves to be reminded the simplest of rules.
And yet, other times he is an unruly wild stallion, marvelous and highly intelligent, who only does what he wants, while we try to rope him in for a job of being saddled and controlled.
Dr. Michael came in, and injected Jim in his thigh, as Jim was handcuffed to the bed.
Jim did not resist, because he loves and respects Dr. Michael to pieces. As the medicine fought and suppressed “his” ego, Jim threw his head back and twisted there and back silently.
Almost immediately afterwards he no longer screamed out the conditions, upon which he would agree to have sex H.M.
That was the reason of his freakout last night.
The new schedule of sex with H.M. did not fly well with James, who was waiting from the RESPITE from sex with H.M., but instead got pushed even further into the service he hated with passion.
That is why we have Dr. Michael on premises.
It took him only 6 hours to manufacture the factual counter-punch out of his 90% Pearly Gates-compliant attitude to serving your spouse.
It knocked Jim’s ego-infected thinking right out of the ball park.
40 minutes later.
Dr. Michael: “What is your name?”
“James Kellspell”. Jim could barely move his lips as Hugh’s balanced essence took statement control over Jim’s mind. The ego-machine could no longer sway him out of a right thing to follow.
“What do you do?” Dr. Michael’s tone was calm, but his soul, purified by non-stop selfless service, was watching the patient most closely.
“I serve Mr. Levin.”
“Excellent. I need access to your Root Directory.” Dr. Michael produced a bridgeplate and ran his fingers across the right edge of the triangle.
Oh, come on! Where did HE learn that?!
“Access granted.”
“I need you to surrender all your protocols to me.”
His root Directory turns in to his Riot Directory and we all suffer Samuel!
“Do not look there. Look at Me!”
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 78
The Fifth Omega And The Politics Of Kellspell Acquisition
Mr. Levin is the man who confidently wades across three feet of Jim Kellspell’s liquid hostility and plucks the man with a dangerous tongue of a venomous frog right out of the smelly marsh of his own making.
Many got helplessly stuck to that weapon of a tongue over the long decades Jim used it to lash the stupid around him.
This is the case when you got God’s power (Jim’s gift of the gab), but forgot to bring God’s Grace and God’s Mercy.
And no one got lashed more with that weapon than H.M.
However, no one could take it like Mr. Levin. Talking about loving somebody.
Levin does not talk much about love.
But he does things that make me gasp in awe.
That was Jim’s poem-making app. He hung it right by the sack with words, it affects any language in stock, and it turns on all by itself.
Since I’m using his channel, I’m basically writing with his set of pens. Every single pen on his table is custom-made for a certain purpose in the art of writing.
If I need the text to be more colorful in the choice of words, I use a pen loaded with liquid distilled Pentacode.
At the time Jim did not have enough skill to use Hexacode.
Then there are brushes saturated with concentrated sadness. Run that across your text, and it deepens in your longing for release from the chains of this existence.
Sorry, i got carried away describing Jim’s amazing stationary in his cell in the Gray Building.
But if you think I’m kidding about the sharp sword of Jim’s tongue...
This is what he hit Levin the other day with:
“When a man is not man enough he turns to the machine.”
Fucking disrespectful prick of James said that to Levin’s face.
You know what Levin did? He very calmly approached Jim, took off his training costume pants (Jim took after his teacher to wear those), and fucked him in the ass.
Jim was so shocked that he did not even resist.
After that Levin was called off by the Manager Of Levin Corporation, which now owns our little gig.
I do not know how much of that I touched here. All the events now started taking place very fast, and I do not have time to come here, for a week at a time.
Please take note. Pelargonium Consortium just published my other book about James, called “The Monkey Who Wanted To See God”. My first trilogy was a smashing success.
Let’s see, that was last week on Andromeda. And here I have not even EDITED the three manuscripts that I wrote about James since last fall. We will be celebrating our 1 year anniversary in one month!
Prescribed sessions for Jim’s anger management:
Waterfall
Train
“Covenant Of Levin”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 77
The Fifth Omega and The Quiet Path To Glory
Welcome to RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KERFUFFLE.
But first, a quick scene from last night:
Julian Levin to James: “You never met a man like me.”
And James was peeing outside at that moment.
Normally, he does not “pee”, he owns that hedge. He sprays it, showing it who is boss, he penetrates it aggressively, and he is very goal-oriented about these actions. He is not even aware of it, but he runs a typical beta-protocol of suppressing all resistance on anything from another man to a hedge of boxwood. Generally, a guy like that is hard to bring to his knees.
So, Levin adds this over Jim’s shoulder as he is owning that friggin’ hedge. “I will own you like no other.”
Ahem. Seriously.
And right when I think that Kellspell would turn around and pee with vengeance on Levin, too, Jim turns to face Levin with tears in his eyes, and a glimpse of gratitude I have not seen him express since he got out of the hospital for the third time this summer.
Go figure.
And Jim says stuff that totally drops me out of this reality.
“Please, own me.” He holds Levin’s eyes steadily, no challenge in his glance, for a change. “Every moment I hesitate to surrender myself, an innocent Muggle gets turned away from the Pearly Gates, because they can’t produce the Key.”
Let me remind you, that the Key is very energy-intensive to manufacture. The energy is called “humility”. And you need more of it than the make up for a drag queen.
Later that day Jim crashed from Level 1 right at Levin’s feet.
Yeah, welcome to the middle of the kerfuffle.
Henry used to slap James for running away from H.M. to this compound here. He is not supposed to leave his underage charge alone.
But Levin had his own plan.
“I got in a fight with H.M., because he would not let me enchance the spreadsheet!” Jim screamed as he crashed through the ceiling, and onto our bed.
“James!” I rushed to be with him, but he held me back with a gesture of his hand.
Right, hurt your favorite “Amatrix Omega”. Don’t let me touch you.
All I could do was commiserate. And Jim knew it. But there was someone here who could do more than that.
“I could not see anything without enchancing it! I enchanced it by taking the picture on my phone. This way I could see it. He kept on asking me to “put your phone down and read”. I would respond: i can’t see, the print is too small, I took a picture of it so I could follow your explanations. To which he responded, WITHOUT HEARING A WORD I SAID “you will put your phone down and do what I say.” Granted, this is not the way you talk to your spouse of 20 years, he was incorrect by definition, because I could not read the small script and I enchanced it through my phone. That is why I could not “put it down”. The asshole LITERALLY WENT TO “SUPPRESS THE RESISTANCE OF AN UNRULY CHILD”, when I was his sane wife of 20 years trying to tell him that I COULD NOT SEE THE SPREADSHEET without enchancing it!” During his tirade James hit the bed with his fist at least ten times.
He was shooting up NES-a right in front of at least 6 cameras, and that’s just the Arkchils.
“James, everyone is watching.” And I should not have said it, because it only made him angrier.
“Stay out of it, Samuel! I am glad they are watching, here goes their dumb project! I am going to shoot somebody now out of my Uret! It’s going to be either me, or HIM!” Kellspell points to Levin, standing at the entrance to Henry’s Chambers, it’s curtains moved by a gentle breeze from the seaside.
James would never hurt me, or Henry. Or Hafnian. We are his soft underbelly, his family and his safety net. He also knows that an omega is defenseless against his beta or alpha. We simply can’t take his wrath.
He can’t unload on us by definition, and he can’t unload on H.M. by protocol (H.M. is karmically underage), so he is going to unload on Julian, because he senses that Julian can take it.
“No, I do not want to apologize to H.M.! I want to kill myself, that is what I want!”
“James, can we talk?” Levin circles around his target, looking for an opening, while we, Jim’s three omegas, cower in various corners.
Jim is extremely dangerous when in emotional pain. And of all people H.M. seems to cause him the most of it. It is Jim’s duty to deliver his child to God. He better take it seriously.
“There is nothing to talk about, Mr. Levin! Even if you do understand my position, you can’t help me. I have done 20 years of hard time with H.M., and I am mandated by The Covenant to serve him until death do us apart. Which is ten more years, or so. Looking forward - I AM FUCKED. Looking back - I was fucked all along. During ALL of those years I experienced nothing but harsh treatment, and zero gratification mentally, emotionally, and professionally. I remember only being happy nine times, during nine projects with the Rotarians. Nine short weeks in twenty years! What hope might I have for the future? Why would my books suddenly become popular when they never were? This man beats me down so bad, I LITERALLY FORGOT I was EVER ANY KIND OF A SPECIALIST!!”
“James, your professional success is coming. And when it comes, you will need to be with someone like me, to help you deal with your success, or it will crush you.”
Yeah, THAT rap sent Jim up the wall. What did you expect?
“Mr. Levin! Have you practiced to sound as ridiculous as humanly possible? If yes, then you have exceeded everyone’s expectations! If no, you are a natural talent!”
Oh, that was a low blow. No, never had he hit anyone here as he just unleashed on poor Mr. Levin.
But Mr. Levin had it coming. Mr. Levin asked for it, having stepped on Jim’s most painful wound - a thirst for professional success.
“Did you hear a word I just said? What “upcoming professional success” are you talking about?! Not only has my life been hell the entire 46 YEARS OF MY EXISTENCE, but I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO IN THE FUTURE. Yes, all my dreams have came true. I live in America! However, the price is too much to keep paying. It no longer feels like it is worth it. The last year I spent between nursing myself in the hospital, and nursing a very difficult, aggressive child that will never grow up. I expect shit to only get worse the next year. This is what my life is all about, and I expect you to have zero compassion towards my situation, just like everyone else! Nobody gives a shit about me. And no one will!”
Levin opened up his mouth , but enraged James would have none of it. He was not done beating the heck out of the only man who was actually qualified to help, and came over with an intention to do so.
“I am going to shut down this fucking channel now, for I am going to GRIEVE about what I face. In the next, nearest six months of my life I will be compelled by The Covenant, to spend all my time on this Earth with a mentally ill, abusive man. This man will force me to serve him much like you reign in a horse and whip the shit out of it to go. This is how I feel EVERY DAY. This is all I pretty much saw in life for the last 20 years from this man. And the 20 years BEFORE were too bloodshot even for Mohammad Ali to remember, thank you very much, Mr. Levin!”
“James, I have answers for you. Please do not shut me out!” Julian is a mountain of confidence, but James is in too much pain right now to realize how different Levin feels in a conversation as opposed to Carlton. At least for me. It feels like Levin is sane, balanced ENOUGH, and he means business.
“You have no idea how it feels to keep on trying YOUR WHOLE LIFE, and not having a single completed project to show for it. You know why?”
I sense Jim loading up the gun and putting it to Levin’s head in his mind. He is done talking, and he will not let Levin defend himself.
Once Kellspell makes a decision, he will materialize what he needs to go through with it.
Today, it would be his favorite 9 mm M&P.
“It is not because I am a bad writer, Mr. Levin! You know who is a bad writer? Quentin Tarantino is a bad writer. His projects made a lot of money, but very little sense.”
James Kellspell is the Taliban of modern culture. I simply beg you to disregard his crap. We are looking for a way to stop him from target-practicing on the biggest of icons.
But for now we are helpless to prevent his, ahem, stream of consciousness, from hitting our screens.
“Every time I watch his movies I feel like someone took a large shit in my soul! You know why his writings were allowed on the screen, and mine were not? Because I was never given a chance!!! You, him, and a bunch of other mindless monkeys took that chance from me. Goodbye, Mr. Levin.”
My heart falls.
There goes a scene from “Solaris”.
Chris is going to shoot his Hari.
Henry can’t watch, but internally he is profoundly grateful. Better Junior than me. This is what Henry thinks. Only and ever about himself.
Hafnian is howling loudly at Jim’s feet, begging him to stop listening to the instructions of the machine in his mind.
“James!” I grab his hand, raising a gun in Levin’s direction. “He is here to help!”
“Let him do it.” Julian says rather calmly, but with tears in his eyes. These tears are not caused by self-pity. They are for Jim. “He agrees with the machine that there is only this much joy in life and I took it from him.”
Levin - Kellspell
COVENANT
1. Our days will be filled with love.
I will give you as much as you need.
2. I want nothing to stand between us,
Not even clothing.
Please, indulge this old man.
I want you badly, and I’m not getting any younger.
3. You may keep your den of omegas
If you agree to accept my Barnum Circus.
I am nothing without them, as you are without your cherished Omega Garden.
4. You will do what I will tell you to do.
For I do not want you to be in pain.
5. Do not shoot me in the scenes where I wear a black suit and a sapphire ring.
6. You have 60% of the Key. I have 20%.
Only TOGETHER can we open the Pearly Gates.
7. Do not resist me on anything.
I stand right behind you, and before long
I will be holding you in my arms.
8. You will submit to whoever I tell you to submit.
9. You are the property of Levin Corporation.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 76
The Fifth Omega And The Fiddle In His Heart
Tough morning. All night long, scenes from the tumultuous last few days. I know no peace since Julian Levin suddenly turned from “one of the mindlessly hanging guests” to an ALLY first (WELLS-KELLSPELL ALLIANCE /kriagir.yaseremshanNSkriagir.yaseremshan/), and then to a significant other for my James.
Jeez! Truly, you can’t predict ANYTHING on this show! Never boring!
How many spouses are there to be?!
OK, here we go, literally, the stream of my consciousness, while watching James running around in my head all night:
“I am to marry Julian Levin THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, Samuel! He was two clicks away from being on my Black List, and now I am to marry him! What is going on?!”
I told him about that fucking “black list”. He should have burned it when he could.
On it, in black ink, and sometimes in his blood, James wrote the names of EVERYONE ON EARTH he believed to be “The Chosen Ones” (he could not just include the names of the ten richest fuckers he knew, he had to take on the whole world!). More on that later.
It was bad, bad. An insane assumption about “special people”. He made it under the influence of poison, of course. One of the heaviest karmic knots (formerly known as “sin”) is to hate any one GROUP of people.
BEFORE HIS BIRTH James went through the lists of groups of most hated people, was terrified to see the blacks and the Jews being the most mentioned, race and ethnicity being a prevalent factor in justification of hateful feelings.
He, then, spit on the Tablets of the Muggles (this is what he calls most of common human negative emotional protocols), and created his own list of people to hate.
Then he was born to prove that they exist.
In his mind, of course. In reality he was born to end all pain.
But for now he is still pursuing a stupid and a painful protocol of proving that “special people” exist.
Some people that are “secretly loved by God”, while “He could not care less” about the rest.
Guess which pile he threw himself into? We are going to pay dearly for this ego-wordage.
“I love you, James, I always have! I do not want anything ever to stand between us, not even clothing!”
Julian Levin. What a poet. I could not have said it better, and I have spent my whole life writing poems to James.
The are only three hours of summer.
When you feel the machine demanding you obey its orders, you SLOW DOWN YOUR BREATHING.
Look for a reason NOT TO ATTACK
NOT TO RESPOND HARSHLY
Buy time by distracting your Oculum
With an intention to hand it to Father.
There are only three hours of summer.
This hour will pass soon.
All you need is ONE HOUR
To enter a NEW FRAME
Where my dedicated Angels will be waiting for you.
“He is now mine to restore him to his former glory. And return him to you.”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 75
The Fifth Omega: Your Friend That Opens Doors
If you avoid conflict, it is service.
If you avoid service, it is conflict.
“I can’t wait to hand myself to you, so I am no longer forced to hand myself to the dumb machine!!”
James Kellspell, in anticipation of the Signing of THEIR Covenant with Julian Levin.
The machine knocks with judgement, forces you to argue
and insists on “doing it my way”.
All of these paths lead into pain.
We DO NOT WANT to be in pain. So we say: Break the spell!
In order to create conflict, the machine needs to take away UNDERSTANDING.
REMEDY that the machine will NEVER REVEAL:
Give them THE UNDERSTANDING YOU CRAVE SO MUCH. That will make conflict impossible by WARMING THE TEMPERATURE OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP.
When the machine says: This statement is YOURS, therefore you HAVE TO DEFEND IT, it pushes you into a conflict.
You feel that you have no choice, because it compels you to agree on “yours”.
It is NOT YOURS, and never was.
Your only statement is your eternal, sweet love for God and your partner.
Everything else is of the ego (incorrect programming).
How to know which language you are speaking?
Ego offers ultimatum.
Love offers compromise.
You darn well know which of them you are listening to.
How to walk away from the conflict.
Buffer —— buffer —— buffer
;
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 74
The Fifth Omega and Wolf Hafnian
“No, honestly, Julian, I do not have any other pressing problems but my health. I can handle NES drug use. I’m learning not to give in to the machine’s provocations.”
“OK. I like to hear that. Worry not about your health. I will make sure there is NO LOGICAL ROOM for the machine left to keep you in a permanent state of fear because of that.” Julian nodded confidently while working two bridgeplates at the same time. “That won’t happen anymore.”
Yes, send in big, athletic men with excellent knowledge of alien technology and make me feel like crap all around.
Definitely shame on me for being here almost a year and never learning how to use a bridgeplate.
And shame on me for not having been born in a different body.
And shame on me for only and ever thinking about myself!
Anyway... The new moon is messing with my mind. It’s pull weakens me and makes me fall to the voice of the stupid machine.
The voice of the stupid machine ALWAYS leads into pain.
What is my problem?
While I ponder that and Julian is gathering intel on Jim’s mental state.
BURSTS IN: Lord Carlton!
“James, I understand that you wanted to make dinner, but...”
Quick back story. While continuing his mental eval with Mr. Levin, James decided to also make dinner for us.
Jim’s idea of making dinner: boil corn on the cub, boil potatoes. Mix. Open a can of sardines. Eat right out of the can over the sink. Invite others to do the same.
Of course, Kyle and Christopher would never let that happen
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 73
The Fifth Omega and Lord Carlton
The battlefields, the peaceful farms -
If you must sleep, sleep in My Arms.
I saw that on the pages of previews to Jim’s lectures. This one was from “KELLSPELL AMATRIX: The Man Who Abolished Fear”
“So, you feel like you have not gotten anything out of the game?”
“No, I feel like I was never allowed to play the game! You know how sometimes at children’s birthdays there is a table for adults, with drinks and good stuff, and there is kiddie table with soda and crap for kids, and nothing decent? This is how I feel. I saw so many walk past me and right to the adult table, and my name was never called. Instead, I found myself chained to this one particular person. By The Covenant we have signed. This is it. End of story.” James threw his head back against the headboard of the bed, as Julian sat beside him.
James was crying non-stop, and he has been crying for three hours straight, throughout the entire session.
“Who did you talk about this here?” Julian held Jim’s hand with a focused, serious expression.
“No one here is strong enough to help me, for everyone is doing the same snuff!! Samuel might be able to listen all the way to the bottom, but his soul is just as tormented. What right do I have to add burden to his already overburdened mind?”
Julian nodded his agreement.
“But I did ask for Mr. Rubinstein’s advice. I said that I felt bitter about being thrown about in a relationship. This is what he answered:
“You cannot change the sea. But you can learn to navigate it, and you will be a better man for it.”
Julian smiled, but the smile remained sad.
“And it’s not H.M. My H.M. is always the same. It’s the young, hungry moon.” Jim proceeded to sob into a tissue, and then threw it into a small garbage bin between his bed and Hafnian’s by the sliding door into the backyard.
The bin was overflowing with used tissues.
“And what do YOU care?” Jim suddenly pulled his hand away and turned on Julian.
It was only a matter of time before Jim was going to attack the one who came to help, because he would give in to the insistent instruction of the machine on how to fuck everything up and to hurt yourself and others even more.
But, to his honor, Julian was ready for it.
“I love you. I have always loved you. And I will never leave your side.”
“These are very powerful spells that require a lot of upkeep. How do I know you are ready to back up your words, Julian?” Jim would normally turn suspicious from romantic on the gaining moon.
“You don’t. But please allow me to prove it to you.”
Ahem, that was yesterday. Today I’m still trying to come to grips about how could Carlton SELL JAMES TO THE MAN HE HATED THE MOST?
Answer may be: politics make strange bedfellows. Junior was suddenly of value, once he revealed to Lord Henry Carlton, the current 75% holder of Kellspell, that he had 20% of the Key that opens the Pearly Gates.
And the deal itself is very much within Lord Carlton’s character.
The business side of the deal, however, does not explain Jim’s rapture. Suddenly, Julian Levin turned from just “one of the guests” to Jim’s best friend.
You know why? Because Levin is not stupid. The man did not just pay Henry for James, he told James that if if he let Levin in, then in turn, Levin would teach him how to become a better servant to Lord Carlton (copy: H.M.)
Which is Jim’s paramount goal. That explains his 180* turn.
This dumbass had picked up the heaviest cat in the box, and is now trying to get away with the darned thing. To speed up the process of his recovery from the rubble, the darned overpriced thing is instructing Jim in a frigid, contemptuous voice, while desperately clutching at his chest with all his God-given 20 claws.
Jim bleeds, but loves the screwed-up connection. He finds someone who can help him bring the aforementioned overpriced Arctic cat even closer to his person by serving him even more faithfully!
I envision another three years of dire emotional struggle to become a better partner to a fucking marble statue of a man! Old ridiculous show, under new management.
Forgive me my sarcasm.
Fuck!!! How can this be happening? To a well-deserving guy like JIM?
Ok, enough of hitting my head against the Wall of Carlton.
What is it about him that drives James crazy?
What am I not getting?
I would have said that Carlton is a piece of shit, if he was not a piece of ice!
Carlton never smiles. But if he does - it’s baring his small cat teeth. It looks especially predatory on a large guy like Carlton.
Enough, I said enough. Or I get riled up, and can’t sleep at night.
Below you will find excerpts from my recent conversations with my struggling, suffering James.
What is getting to him?
The gaining moon (almost halfway now).
The days of Lirda Kils Svangibir.
His multiple physical aches and pains and his fears, connected with that.
I SO WANTED to add Carlton to this grievance list, but I can’t lie.
Jim forgets all of his fears and troubles as soon as the large, handsome Icicle walks in the door and scans him, and everyone else suspiciously with the stare of his mesmerizing, winter-blue eyes. Those eyes mean nothing good for you, for sure.
But Jim is at attention! And eager. Ready to follow all of Carlton’s idiotic orders! Burning with desire to please and pamper the undeserving royal asshole.
These days will become legendary for our loyalty to each other and our causes (yes, I already watched the whole movie, otherwise it is too heartbreaking to be living through it), but right now Jim is breaking every vow he gave Henry.
Morning, Level 1, and he can’t get over that H.M. threw out the remnants of McFlurry out of the fridge. Jim wanted to drink it, but it was there for three days, and H.M. “got tired of looking at it”.
Jim was pissed, high on the poison of NES-a (anger!)... He is strictly prohibited to touch THAT ONE.
He took my McFlurry,
I’m nothing but fury.
Oh, curse Jim’s poem-writing app. I am using his tools of writing, and that one kicks in every chance it gets.
Sitting in his room in the Grey Building, to which I have access, is like sitting inside of the head of Nikola Tesla, I kid you not. He invented 80% of stuff in here.
Sometimes I love him, and sometimes I’m deeply hurt about how little I mean in his life.
Until recently, I would calm myself down (or shut myself up!) by saying that he had a long prior relationship with every other of his mates.
Dr. Michael - 13 years
Lord Henry Carlton - 5 years
Wolf Hafnian - 4 extremely intense years
And I arrived in the fall of last year. What do I want?
Mr. Rubinstein always says that it took 200 years to grow an oak that is your table.
Well heck, it is probably going to take more if we are the Oak for the Table of God.
And thusly I lift myself from the burning grid of bitter thoughts.
Only to fall back again into dirt face first.
Now, it’s Julian Levin. The man IS a fine specimen of intelligence, patience and experience. He is nothing like Carlton.
At the very least the man is aware of the rules of decency and he does not live to abuse you.
But so am I.
With Levin flying up the hierarchy staircase like that? From a guest to an allied partner in less than two weeks? With no history of a prior relationship?
I feel like I got passed over for promotion. That’s how I feel.
At least the abominable Lord signed The Covenant with James five years ago.
Where did THIS jumpstart come from? Men’s Central of NYC?
Ok, here we go with the excerpts:
“My left breast hurts like bloody hell, Samuel. Mammogram showed nothing, but now the pain has increased so that I can barely sleep at night. And I no longer care to get scared. What good would that do? The machine pushes me to drink a jug full of fear, but never tells me why.”
“Stupid machine, Samuel! It entangles me in the dumbest of logical loops! It is not the machine that is strong. It is me, who is weak! I might not be the richest, and I might not know how to become popular, BUT NOTHING PREVENTS ME FROM BEING DECENT AND LOYAL! But the ego will NEVER point you to this quiet, sure path into Glory.”
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 72
The Fifth Omega and Samuel
“Now, every time we say “inspiration came to me”, we know from Whom!”
I honestly don’t remember who said it, or when. Maybe Kyle. In the last and very fast couple of months. Let me run this through Arkchil Records.
Time flies mercilessly, but James would say that not fast enough. He is still in a lot of pain, both physical and emotional, and he has to deal with it on a day-to-day basis with a difficult underage child and, now five, mates.
The fifth mate, yes. Julian. More on that later.
What advice can I give my sweet and prickly James?
We have to let God between ourselves and everything we do. It is the only way not to get hurt.
Getting us hurt is what the ego wants. Because this is how we programmed it. When we were ONE.
Before we split ourselves into a myriad humans, and animals, and nature. ALL one RAY, before the Great Split, or Big Bang, or whatever you want to call it.
Before the moment when WE, The Child Of God, ate the poisoned apple to fall asleep, and find ourselves here, on Level 1, 99 Levels beneath Heaven, to experience pain caused by our ego.
So, this is all about falling from Grace and flying back.
Only “falling from Grace” is the lie of the machine.
You do not “fall from Grace”, you walk away from it. Step by step, allowing “your” ego to “paint God out of the picture”.
Therefore, if you want to go back (if you have suffered enough), it is step by step. Day by day. Hour by hour. Bringing God back into your life.
Crawl on your knees, if you must, but MOVE out of machine’s cruel control and back into the loving Hands of Father.
After what I witnessed yesterday, I ran an extensive Arkchil Record search on Julian Wells. I had to do it all day in the classroom, as opposed to my bedroom, because James and Julian needed time alone, but Henry would not let them use his palace by the sea.
Like an outcast, and an idiot, I did my research, was very upset at what I found, and considered it to be my responsibility to alert James to the situation.
The reason I felt like an idiot, was due to the deja vu feeling. I had already been there with Lord Carlton, and no amount of dirt that I dug up on the conceited high born ever worked on James.
Once James falls in love, you are done for. He will not care if you are Butch Cassidy, or Jack the Ripper. Once you are chosen by him, there is no way back. There never was. Ask Dr. Michael.
Hugh did Jim in. Jim lost his seniority on more than one project because of the sexual assault on Hugh. He was taken away 13 years worth of privileges. Jim did 3 years of penance for Hugh. He struggled through all that, recognized that he was one sick puppy, but never stopped loving his Dr. Michael.
Oh, James fucked-up Kellspell! I’m going to hit him with the truth in three... two... one minute.
Fifty yards of the hall between the classroom and our Headquarters, and I walk into the bedroom deliberately slow.
This is MY bedroom. I’m not going to knock. But I will also give them some time. Jim has excellent hearing no matter what he does.
And WHAT are they doing? Just like I thought. They are not doing what they were supposed to do. They are making out.
But with James, especially in the beginning, you need to say the right things, and ask the right questions, not just pull down your pants and present your ass.
I made THAT mistake more than once. I had no idea what the right questions were. And when I asked God what to do when I never knew what to SAY with James, He suggested that I can always save my face (and the treasured relationship) by just LISTENING.
Julian, however, did not have a shortage of right things to say.
Each statement bold and confident, penetrating James to a considerable depth.
Each statement leaving James speechless, mesmerized, in tears.
“I know you badly need understanding in life. I will give you the best understanding you ever dreamt of.” Julian was saying, on his knees in front of James, kissing his hands.
“Julian, I do not even know you at all...” Jim tried to resist.
“Please, listen to me, James. Look into my eyes.” Julian was taking no prisoners, his voice quiet, and breaking at times. “What is standing between us? It is paramount that I get as close to you as possible.”
You exposure stands between you, and you know it, Mr. Levin. Yes, “Mr. Levin”, and not “Wells”. More on this later!
And rushing in, aren’t we? There was no sign to your arrival. You have no prior relationship with James. For all I know, your ass is not even supposed to be here. Let alone spin romantic yarn pretty much out of the blue.
I have to defend James!
Let’s see what we can do about it.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Jim, I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word with you?”
“My Amatrix Omega!” James pulled his hand out of Julian’s large, strong palms and hurried to greet me.
“Where were you so long? Would you like to have dinner together? Henry is not back from the photoshoot yet. But the three of us, we could go to the cafeteria!” He kissed me in the lips and gave me an adoring look.
I’m so old. What does he ever find in me?
All this was his sweetest way of letting me know that whatever I have to say, I can say in front of Julian. Fine. You asked for it. It’s going to make my revelations that much more embarrassing for “Mr. I-lied-about-my-identity”!
“James, I would love to, but we first need to clear the air. I am afraid I have bad news.” I put the printout on formerly Henry’s dresser.
“This gentleman’s real name is Julian Levin. He is not a straight alpha, he is a versatile bi-upgradable omega. You will be very happy to find out, that Mr. Levin is also not the poor sheep you think he was. He is worth over a hundred million dollars. But he carries it well. The cats ARE getting fatter in these woods, you were right. The only question remains - how did you not smell an omega a mile away?!”
I expected Julian to put up a fight, or, at the very least, explain himself, but he got up, walked to James, and got on his knees by his side again. The only thing he did in response to my spirited tirade was to lower his head.
“Samuel, my sweet honey, are you on one of your investigation stints?”
“Yes, James! You are not going to placate me this time, and you can’t kiss away the fact that yet another man has lied to you to get in! And how the fuck did you not notice his omega card? Where is he hiding it?”
“Hmm... That one, yeah!” Jim went inside of himself and smiled there, the tears caused by Julian’s speech slowly melting on his cheeks, like a breath of a miracle I just destroyed. “You are not going to believe where he is hiding his omega card.”
“James, you are being taken advantage of again! Was not Lord Carlton enough for you? I have learned the real name of the man who is shamelessly using you here for his hidden agenda (come on, not ANOTHER ONE, people!), and you have completely ignored that, because you are in love again!!!”
Jim did not miss a beat.
“Honey, Samuel. It’s ok! So, his real last name is Levin. He is Jewish, then.”
This is where I noticed that Julian shook his head “no” without lifting it.
That exalted James.
“Look how cute he is. He knows the omega protocol. And he is surrendering himself to me! How can I not take him?”
“Cute”?” I repeated, getting angrier. “James, you don’t even KNOW him! I looked up and down the block in your record, and you DO NOT have a prior relationship with this man. Having a relationship that predates your turning yourself in is THE MAIN CONDITION of them entering your Uret! Did Wallace send him? What is HIS agenda? Why would not you ask me WHAT ELSE did my investigation reveal?”
“OK. What else did your investigation reveal?” James reached out to my lips and grabbed my hips.
I don’t know if I can be duly aggressive when he closed the distance... I will try, though.
“It has also revealed Jim Kellspell’s real name. Ready?” I said into his face menacingly. “It’s James Gullible Simpleton-Dufus!”
“My love! It sounds so magic when you say it. “Simpleton-Dufus”. Very theatric!”
“James, wake up!” I shook him by his shoulders. “Please see that you are being played by big cats from every side! Remember you told me you wanted to fill this ship with poor and disenfranchised only? You even made the door so narrow that only SMALL CATS could squeeze in? Well, you’re picking up the big and well-established ones so far! They are falling on your head like over-ripped cherries, plump-plump-plump! And they are getting bigger and more well-established as the time progresses!! This defeats the purpose of your quest, AND they are using you! This...” I pointed to the kneeling Levin “... is a shameless fat cat, and he is wise to your trusting, naive nature!”
Jim opened his mouth to reply, and this is where I heard the fiddle.
At first I did not know where the music was coming from, and then I realized that it was coming from Julian’s heart.
See, as an omega, he is not allowed to talk unless James gives him permission, but he CAN let his heart be heard.
This is, at least, how it was explained to me later.
As Julian’s fiddle cried the saddest, and yet the lightest of melodies, it told me that yes, Julian Levin may have been a fat cat, but he had suffered enough. And he wanted to come to God.
Right about there I saw the pigeons in Henry Carlton’s mind break through their cage and take to the bright, cloudless skies.
Jim wore a detached, but a painful look.
Not because of what he learned about Julian, but because he wanted me to brighten up and stop looking for “hidden agendas”.
Hidden? HIDDEN? Your mates bring their agendas by the container and drag the container across the floor right in front of you, while you blissfully let them, and you never ask a single question!
I am done being burned in the fires of discontent alone. Let’s see if I can push Mr. Perfect under the bus, where he belongs for just barging into Jim’s life like that!
“Cute omega” my ass. Shameless, shameless man.
“Everything about you is a lie, Mr. Levin. The only thing that is telling the truth, is a fiddle in your heart.”
This is where sullen James lifted his head and brightened up. “Did you hear it, too? You know, it sang deeper and softer every time he looked at me. I could not handle it, Samuel, I took him!”
And so Julian Levin became known as Jim Kellspell’s Fifth Omega. Julian The Consolation. Julian Jim’s Punching Bag. Julian, who could take anything from James and not break, like the rest of us.
In one of the interviews James once compared his mates to straws.
He spent the last four years grasping at straws, because there was nothing else.
Suddenly, a stick shows up.
Four straws, and a Fifth Omega.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 71
The Fifth Omega
And let my call resound for ages
In all of your non-existent cages!
Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”
Last night, frustrated with the results of Jim’s mental evaluation (this is not what happened, but this is how I decided to take it, I guess), I finally went to see Yoda. I mean, Mr. Rubinstein.
Both about fucking Wallace and why didn’t anyone warn me, and about Jim’s mental eval. The eval is not what you think, though.
Julian wanted to know EVERYTHING about Jim (main points of his discontent with life, for sure) so he could find a way to be most compatible with him. Much like atoms and molecules, we are building BONDS between ourselves. It’s all about bonding.
I was frustrated because last night Jim and Julian seemed to have entered the dreaded “Stale Mate”.
In essence, Julian believed Jim needed to stop using and become a noble man, and Jim wanted to know how he could do that with so much unaddressed pain still in his heart.
“The point is, Mr. Rubinstein,” I drank some more directly from the bottle of fine Canadian whiskey. “Julian is indispensable for us. He did hard time, and if Jim was going to respect ANYONE AT ALL, it would be Julian Wells with his immense knowledge of American prisons and underworld. And he is an alpha, too. A straight alpha, though. How are we ever going to fix that?”
“That is all true, Samuel.” Leonard responded slowly, as if weighing every word. “But it will not need to be fixed. Julian and James will form a perfect connection.”
I nodded, happy at his forecast, and with my normal skeptical guard down. For I was feeling the temporary chemical warmth of alcohol in my veins. “But what about Wallace? Have you not been following the anti-Semitic scandal he started? Only a dead man could have missed it!”
“No, Samuel, I only died four years ago. Went straight here to prepare a nest for my Krista.”
Yeah, I knew that. Fuck, that was inappropriate.
Rubinstein smiled, stretching deep wrinkles around his mouth. “I understand your concern, but let’s talk about William Wallace when you’re sober.”
Sure, whatever, who cares about Wallace. I barked him off for now. My main concern is James and the pieces to the Key.
The night was still young when I got too trashed to go home. Home was nine rooms down the hall, right past the quarters that Dr. Michael’s family used to occupy when they just arrived.
Man, it seems like so long. But Dr. Michael has been here for only couple of months. So much happened ever since. I mean, I signed an alliance with Henry Carlton, for God’s sake!
I was thinking about it when I drifted off on Mr. Rubinstein’s couch.
When I woke up, it was 11 am THE NEXT DAY!!!
Leonard was nowhere to be found, so I hurried back to our Headquarters in the bedroom.
And when I came in, I was for a shock of my life.
The morning sunlight outlined his profile as he lifted his head at the sound of my footsteps.
Julian Wells was sitting ON OUR BED, naked, with a thoughtful face much like a deep lake, where all you see is a polished surface, while everything else sinks to the bottom.
“I thought you were straight...” I exhaled.
“This is Level 2.” Julian responded in a whisper, quickly pulling the sheet over his incredibly athletic body.
Nothing to be ashamed of here! At 55 years old, too, as his dossier states. Four years older than me, thank you very much.
Who is sending these guys? Are they here to throw off a scrawny guy like me and make me feel even more miserable about my own physique?!
“Where is James?” I asked Julian, feeling that my tongue was not listening to me with creeping legit fear for Jim’s life.
Have they both gone nuts and did not come back?! Henry is right next door! I’m surprised this little compound was not awakened by a nice bout of midnight gunfire.
“James is in the bathroom.”
A parcel of silence appeared between us, and no one wanted to open it first.
“Do you realize that as soon as Lord Carlton learns that you slept with James, he will shoot you both?” I finally said the most obvious thing as I made a step into my (now my again!) closet to change the shirt and jeans I slept in on Leonard’s couch.
I do not know if I was more scared for James, or incensed about the whole deal.
What I really wanted to say was “how stupid you should be to dare touch what belongs to Henry?! You KNOW him! You WORK with him, you darn well saw how territorial he is, how vindictive he is, and how he went after people for much less.”
As for James, I wanted to remind him of his vows to Carlton. Good or bad, but Henry did not pull Jim’s tongue.
What happened to “I will love you forever”?
And I don’t blame Jim if his “forever” lasted only eight months.
Carlton is cold, distant and aloof to say the least. Eight months later of this emotional winter I would feel like jumping in bed with a hot guy, too.
This is where Henry walked out of his bedroom, light on his feet, in a fancy black suit, his hair neatly brushed backwards, with a white bow instead of his regular black tie and a smile that read “worship my splendour, you bitches, I own you all.”
I gasped, while Julian remained sitting in bed like the upcoming brouhaha was not going to be all about him.
The figures of Dr. Michael and Kyle appeared against the morning sun in the backyard, all prettied up as much as I could see. Aha, he brought witnesses to his justified revenge.
“Henry, are you dressed to kill?” I asked and hated myself for the pun. But this is exactly what I thought was happening.
Henry got a whiff of the affair, because he HEARD the stupid fuckers (ahem!). He, then, got dressed to look good on the Arkchill Record, brought witnesses, and monkey is your uncle.
“Don’t be ridiculous. James Kellspell does not take a dump without my permission.”
“Lord Carlton, James spent the night with JUNIOR! You hate Junior. There is no way you gave him permission FOR THAT!”
“Politics is not your forte, Samuel. Try agriculture. Here.” Henry pressed a wad of cash into my chest. “I must be fair, although you spent last night drinking and contributing nothing to our causes.” Henry glanced across his shoulder, and Christopher was right by his side, bowing slightly.
Lady Anne gave me a look like “I feel so sorry you had to spend the night drinking”, while Dr. Michael lowered his eyes not to meet mine.
Oh, what the fuck?
Leave it to Henry Carlton to give you a humiliating public whipping!
I “spent the night drinking” and contributed “nothing to our causes”?!!
“What is this?” I stared at a considerable pile of hundred dollar bills that fell to my feet.
“Your 20% of the deal!”
I froze like a computer that was hit by a really heavy hammer. Things were happening to me. Is that why Henry did not attack the naked Julian in Jim’s bed?
“I have an interview now, but at 2 pm there is a photoshoot. When the Savage gets out of the bathroom, tell him I need him clean and resplendent by 1:30 pm. Make sure he shaved, cut and cleaned his nails, put on deodorant, brushed his teeth and shut his mouth. Thank you, Samuel.”
With that the unbearable Lord Carlton left the room, followed by Christopher, Kyle, dazzling Lady Anne in a blue evening dress with diamonds, and Dr. Michael with an unexplained look of a beaten dog on his face.
I stood in a pile of money as they passed by me like a small, but a very shiny, attractive parade.
Or rather, a group of slaves that followed an Egyptian pharaoh.
“Did you pimp Jim out?” I yelled out a belated realization. “Is that your NEW LOW?!”
But no one even turned their head.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 70
WELLS - KELLSPELL
ALLIANCE
based on
“PROPUSK V LUBOV”
MEMORANDUM
20NS20
“I was never part of anything that mattered, I was only happy nine times in my life one week each, nobody (especially H.M.) cares what I have to say, and every time I look at the calendar, I face at least three rapes a week.” James took a breath and looked at me for encouragement. As hard as it was for me, per Lord Carlton’s advice, I gave him none.
But deep down inside I cared nothing for Henry’s advice on how to reign in James. It was too cold. I’m talking -200 Kelvin cold.
“That is why I’m telling you that none of you suffered as much, or as consistently, as me.” James reached under the desk and scratched Hafnian behind his ear.
Hafnian released a low vibrating noise of pleasure as he was licking Jim’s bare feet.
It was decided that James would feel more comfortable barefeet, as he spent most of his youth this way while living in Crystal Valley.
Via Atkchil Record I have watched tons of footage of his past, but I have not seen Jim willingly wear any shoes but flip-flops pretty much in any weather.
In winter, too. Back in the day the neighbors used to come out of their houses just to watch Jim clean the snow from the sidewalk in flip-flops.
Try to put socks on Jim and you will walk away with a black eye.
Lord Carlton ordered Jim to wear socks and shoes. I have not heard a peep of complaint from him, and he wore anything Carlton would tell him to put on in a 100 degree weather.
But for the interview it was decided to remove both the shoes and Lord Carlton.
And now Jim was obviously missing both.
I was torn between feeling sorry for my beloved mate, and feeling sorry for myself (NES-sp both times, yes). Reign in myself first.
“I see everything through the prism of a grudge against God, Mr. Wells, and it hurts like hell.”
Jim just nailed it.
We are in the classroom. James would prefer to solve all his problems where he sleeps (in our bedroom), simply due to the fact that, like many Russians, he grew up in small quarters, and your room serves as a bedroom, as a living room, as an office, and as a place to lock yourself up with someone (or alone) to deal with issues.
But ever since, our bedroom was no longer private. It became a heart of ALL operations, or a passageway between destinations for the members of our Emerald Filament Team.
“What about judging others?”
Julian (the Junior!) Wells, the Envoy of Mr. William Wallace, is interviewing Jim.
I don’t give a shit what he does, I have nothing against Junior, as long as Wallace himself stays away from me.
What Julian is actually doing is “mapping” Kellspell’s mental state, so Prince Moretr could adjust Jim’s treatment plan.
In Earth’s terms it would be “mental evaluation”.
After much ado and resistance on Jim’s side, James and Julian reached a deal, and they have entered WELLS-KELLSPELL ALLIANCE yesterday.
They are going to start working on “Propusk V Lubov” Memorandum today.
This day in the end of summer is very important for both James and H.M. This is all I can disclose.
Julian Wells brought 20% of the Key to the deal. That made Henry ecstatic.
I will ask Jim to translate the name of their Memorandum later. Right now I’m all ears for his mental evaluation.
Julian Well’s bridgeplate is glowing bright blue. I have never seen one do that before. The light is due to the flow of energy.
Right now the surge is so dense, it conceals Junior’s hands as he stretches his palm to “pour” the data about James into the bridgeplate.
Where did HE learn all that? Oh, I don’t care what he does. As long as his anti-Semite friend does not show up here.
“No, judgement of others is not my drug of choice. But COMPARISON is.” Jim sighs and stares at a distance.
James is very interested in his evaluation. In fact, he has been waiting for months for someone to show up and look at his mental wounds.
But right now he caught the smell of Henry, that would linger here, for sure. And he worships him in his mind. He knows it’s the only way to get Henry to put out. So he practices it, he goes through his Henry-worshipping routine in his mind as a way to escape a conversation.
But he WANTED this evaluation!
“Mr. Kellspell, you drifted off.” Julian looms over his bridgeplate that probably gives him the breakdown of Jim’s every thoughtform, or very close.
“Yeah...” James comes back to the conversation that would have grabbed ALL OF HIS attention even three months prior.
But now, even without the mind-penetrating bridgeplate, I know what’s on his mind. And it is not his previously “most precious personal grudges”.
“Up to four years ago I was ruled by the success of my sister. I believed that she was “the chosen one”. God clearly loved her more than me, because she was so good at being rich.” James caught my eyes as I went to the table by the wall to get coffee and a doughnut.
I hurried back to be by Jim’s side as fast as I could, and in my hurry to alleviate his pain i dropped my doughnut.
Not a big deal, we have a bio-vacuum. Called Wolf Hafnian. :).
That’s exactly what he did. He left his Beloved Jim’s side to get to food, gobbled up the glazed doughnut in less than a second and rushed right back to curl underneath the desk.
As Hafnian’s thick fur touched and caressed Jim’s naked feet, he got a tender, satisfied smile on his face.
Only Hafnian and me are allowed during the evaluation. Henry was dying to get in, but he did not get a permission.
Instead he got Christopher, Kyle and two Arkabins to distract and entertain him while Jim was in session.
“But then I met you lot, and I realized who REALLY GOD-CHOSEN people are. They are those who are allowed to be creative, get attention and respect for it, and also get reimbursed for it.”
When forced to confront his biggest demon, the incomprehensible “how come I can’t be a money-earning writer, when others get their dumb wishes come true all the time”, James begrudgingly shifts from worshipping Henry to his “hurt ego” issues.
But he is slow to do so, as if he applies every effort to resist the order of the ego to scratch “where it hurts”.
“Tell me more, please.” Julian prompts.
Even a month ago I did not have to prompt James to talk about his pain. All I needed to do was LOOK AT HIM, and he’d start gushing out non-stop about how many talents he had, and all of that got buried under the chain of his “indentured servitude”.
And now he lingers and refuses to relay the poison that had been burning him for forty years straight.
{unfinished again.
I haven’t had any time to copy from the Arkchil record when I found myself pickled in someone else’s juice. You are not going to believe what happened this morning!!}
;
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 69
This Fraternity Is Together For Eternity
+300 kerfuffles a year, seriously.
“Age is just a mile marker. Leave it where it is. If you take it as yours, that’s when it hurts.”
James, to me, discussing Hafnian’s heavy drinking, because he is terrified of number “60”. And look at Kyle. He has become an example to us all.
But this chapter is going to be about none of that.
“Samuel. I’m at the hospital. H.M. brought me over because of pain in y right side. Can you come alone?”
Right. We ALL are going to start using bridgeplate for texting, and not tell me how.
The reason he wants me to come alone is because he does not want Henry to witness him cuss out everyone who he believes are “happy and creatively fulfilled while I am is hurt again.”
That’s what it means to “shoot up” the NES-sp drug. Self-pity.
Oh, I’m coming. I can always get to Jim’s coordinates on Level 1. I am allowed full access.
When I appeared over his right shoulder, he was sitting on the hospital bed in the emergency room with a determined face.
He turned his head to kiss me across a non-existent membrane that separates levels.
“Welcome to my entertainment tonight!” He whispered into my face. “If I was smart, I would have brought the charger, and I could have my phone all night. Now I have to turn it off soon. But, next time!” James smiled, and then the smile turned sour as he grabbed at his right side.
He was in pain for a week with that gut of his.
“Are they also going to look at your eye?” I pointed to his left bloodshot eye.
“Ah,” He waved me off. “I’ve had these flare ups on both my eyes for five years. Five different doctors in three different states told me I had no case.”
He has no case but he has a pink eye.
Half the time James is full of shit when he whines, but the other half the time there is a grain of salt to what he says.
James read my mind.
“That’s why I asked you to come alone. Listen, we have to give a vow to each other to stop doing NES-sp. Otherwise we will never have enough funds to break through, Samuel. The drug is sucking out our resources, and leaves us with nothing.”
I gasped.
“Jim, I can’t live a day without it.”
“Me too, my love. We are in for a long night, then. I have 75% left of the battery on this phone. I better turn it off and leave it for emergencies (no pun intended!). But you and I have a lot to talk about. You are not going to believe it, but Prince Moretr has just the place for us. I’m going to drop us out of here and into another folder. Hold on.”
And this is how it ended. He dropped me to another folder, but I never signed what he asked me to sign.
How could I? I was not strong enough.
He said “please, something is going to come up and we are going to need our sobriety.”
I get it. I’m just not ready to quit feeling sorry for myself, allright?
The hospital visit was resolved with “You have a 3 cm cyst on your right ovary, and it will go away by itself. When? We don’t know. What do you do for pain? Take Ibuprofen. Goodbye.”
That was on Thursday. Today is Monday, and I was going to start a new chapter due to a high volume of brouhaha that took place ever since, but Henry said - just carry on with your regular format.
And I did. Kind of remembered what Jim said about “something coming up to require our full attention, therefore sobriety.”
Boy, did he nail that one, my friends.
Jim may seem like he is out of control, Henry continued to instruct me, but I have him by the balls, he added with much satisfaction, squeezing Jim’s imaginary balls in his large fist to illustrate the point. “He signed The Covenant with me, in his blood, sweat, urine, and every other liquid Hafnian could squeeze out of both of them. Now go and tell him that his Lord Carlton orders him to let Julian in.”
See, at the time I thought he said “Junior”, but only later on the Arkchil Record I realized that he used Junior’s real name (JULIAN!!!) BEFORE Junior was approved by our whole team.
What did it mean? They had a behind-the-scenes deal, that’s what it meant!!
And so I trusted Henry on that as I watched James fall off the wagon and go after everyone he ever loved, including me, his favorite omega. His AMATRIX Omega.
Why? I am getting to that.
Monday mornings are tough, and this one was particularly tough for Junior.
Tough for James, too.
Since James was so clearly wrong in being such an ass towards Junior, ten years his senior, thank you very much, it was not tough for me to see.
The Monday morning was easy for me.
The Monday night, however, was all exhilaration for James.
Monday night was left solely for me to feel the tough. And the rough. We are getting to that.
Junior, darn him.
See, at the moment I couldn’t even mention his name, because Jim had refused to approve him for participation in our scenes.
That would be the action of paramount importance for the future script. Isotropic surface of time has gotten to us all - within it, you can LIVE the movie first for the script to come out of it, and not the other way round.
When asked why, James stated: “You’ve got to be kidding me, Junior is THE BIGGEST fucking cat out there, I do have my limits!!!”
There were a few others (Dr. Michael’s guests) who stood outside, in our backyard, and watched Jim throw Bob right out of the door and shower us all with some zesty expletives.
See, those others were waiting for someone who was on his way from the outer orbit of Strobulus. That’s seven light years, or eight and a half minutes.
Unbeknownst to resisting, upset James, EVERYONE was waiting for him.
After I was told WHO WAS COMING, i was waiting for him with rather positive emotions, too, because I try not to hold many grudges.
It’s not going to kill you to smile politely, and wave, I was calming myself down.
I was complaisant until throughout the day I found out that the gentleman was not just another guest.
He was coming to take over our mission as Director of Operations instead of James Kellspell.
This is where I lost it. That night, Monday night.
But still Monday morning, and Henry told me to push Jim to approve Junior. Little did I know Junior was paving the way for the SENIOR.
DID HENRY KNOW?! Did he?!!
“Henry wants you to sign Junior in, Jim.” I reminded and regretted it immediately. Boy, did he give me a look of these morning puffy eyes that tell everyone “I spent the night drinking and I’m just as pissed now as I was when I started last night.”
“Henry was the one who told me, and I quote: “You will know the full strength of my wrath if I find you in bed with Junior.”!James spread his hands in a helpless, but inviting gesture and shook his head.
And I remember what Jim answered at the time. I smiled at that memory even as Jim’s attitude hurt me bitterly.
“Yes, Samuel, it was right before I was taken to the hospital. I told him “Junior must have been an excellent student at school, because he can really spell “STRAIGHT” for you. And as the good ol’ Shark Tank goes, for that reason, I’m out.”
True, all that happened. But ever since Henry was informed of something he claims he did not know anything about, things have changed.
We do not know what he knew, for Henry Carlton is a really deep well, as the Russian saying goes.
But here is the fact: Junior is, apparently, the part of The Covenant.
Junior’s antisemite puppeteer, who was coming at us like a meteorite, was also a part of The Covenant.
Regardless of what I thought of the man, The Shattered Covenant was coming together.
Wallace and Junior had a piece of the Key Jim was putting together.
Only much later I figured out why Dr. Michael allowed Henry to open the door for Junior.
Dr. Michael had 15 thousand souls pressed against the grid. He came here specifically for the Key to save his people before the Tide of Reincarnation flushes them back into the painful dream sequence.
Jim did not have the whole Key.
Wallace did not have the whole Key.
But TOGETHER they would become the force to be reckoned with.
Once Henry was told all that (again, we do not know what EXACTLY was he told), he quit squabbling with Junior over screen time, laid down his weapons and voted Bob in.
Once in a lifetime the lives of his parents meant more to him than “his” perpetually hurt ego.
After all, Lord Carlton held 75% of Kellspell.
Dr. Michael did not block Carlton’s decision for his (above stated) reasons.
Junior was technically in.
All there was left to do from that point on was talk JAMES into accepting Junior into the team.
Jim hates what he sees as “fat cats”.
Not just the rich, but those who were “more creatively in demand” than him.
That’s where we got stuck for the whole day.
After kicking out Junior (he went to the backyard, and was surrounded by a large group of people, including Mr. Rubinstein, helping him with obtaining necessary package of papers for a second attempt at persuading James to let Junior play within our Uret, or “your closest circle” in Andromedan lingo), Jim went off about Junior’s abridged dossier.
“See this?” He growled in my face in his regular hoarse voice. “The man lived a life! He made mistakes, who gives a shit? So he was in jail for drugs. He had his ups, too. I, on the other hand, felt like a car that was parked inside of a garage for the last 20 years!!! Put “all” back into WALL and it was what I see in front of me!!!”
I tried to tell James that Junior was already in, and that he, James, was rude and unreasonable to both Junior and our team for not accepting our decision.
I did manage to shut him up. I knew, though, that the only reason he sat there, smoking and then blowing smoke into Hafnian’s nicotine-addicted mouth, instead of venting about Junior, was because I asked him not to.
He was sizzling inside, like bacon on the frying pan.
But, mercifully, he did not have to be fried for long.
By 6:15 pm the sliding door opened and Junior came in, followed by Dr. Michael and Mr. Rubinstein. Apparently, for support.
“James, can we talk?” Junior asked very politely.
“Oh, you again? You speak English? What about “get the fuck out of here” did you not understand?” Jim broke a cigarette and crumbled it into Hafnian’s mouth in slow motion, while nailing Bob to the wall with his glance, Henry style.
I must admit, Henry is much better at it, but it is due to a lifetime of ordering servants around in the castle of his father. He did have a lot more practice.
I became distracted to my bridgeplate, where a message in English appeared (since when did we start using bridgeplates as phones?!). “He is 4 minutes away.”
Whoever is coming, 4 minutes can mean “half an hour” due to time difference between the outer orbit and us here.
Hafnian was chewing on the cigarette with crumbles of tobacco strewn all over his hairy wolf face and all around him on the floor, as James leveled Junior with an incinerating stare.
“I might not be able to stop you from getting in, but I need you to always remember,” Jim’s tone did not get a tad nicer, when I focused again on him and Junior. “that nothing you have ever achieved will make me respect you. Because THE ONLY REASON you made it in life and I did not was because YOU WERE GIVEN A CHANCE, and I WAS NOT!”
He made a scene right in front of Mr. Rubinstein and Hugh! Both of whom, however, did not take the bait, remained silent and let it play itself out.
Later Dr. Michael told me they were only going to interfere if James went after Junior physically.
I made an effort to hold Jim back, and it was somewhat successful.
He was rude to me more than once today already, but now he felt guilty about it, so he let me control him.
“I can’t change your past, Mr. Kellspell, but I CAN help you change our future.” Bob cleared his throat and inhaled deeply, as if seeking support from within.
After I shamed James into shutting his mouth, Junior did not waste the opportunity to get his foot in the door.
“How so?” Jim whispered, making a formidable effort to stop being such an asshole.
“I have a set of skills that I would like to contribute to the team.” Bob concluded.
He would also like to contribute a new Director of Operations to the team, and in all honesty he should have said it then and there.
“How come there was not a sign about your arrival?” James was grim, but at least not offensive anymore, and to the point.
How come there was no sign? HE IS THE SIGN. For Mr. Wallace!
“Not everyone arrives in the same manner.” Bob replied evasively, and I would warn him against that, because Jim hates to have to scan you to get the truth out of you.
But Junior seemed to get a second wind after a few hours of a briefing in the backyard with pretty much everyone in our building.
Plus the silent support of Rubinstein and Hugh.
“I happen to have a recommendation from someone who might help you make a right decision.” With that Bob rather confidently handed Jim a folded paper.
“From whom?” Jim curved his lovely lips in a mocking smile that does not suit him. “Do you think I care about any one of the fat cats in your dumb Holy Woods? Their opinion means nothing to me, because none of their pompous asses suffered as much as me!”
“Certainly, I have not.” Bob said with a slight bow.
He certainly have.
His dossier is not for the fainthearted. But he was being a gentleman while Jim could no longer hold himself back and barked at Junior in the most embarrassing way.
But then he saw the name of the one who wrote the letter of recommendation.
And he gasped.
“Dear James,” The letter read. “Would you like to join forces in achieving The Pearly Gates? Please accept my envoy while I am making my way to your location for further negotiations. I would like to acquire your enterprise. Respectfully, William Wallace”
The shortest “recommendation” of them all.
“William Wallace?!” Jim exclaimed, dropped the letter, held on to his temples and collapsed on the floor, barely missing the wooden corner of our bed frame with his head, but smashing his nose as he fell nevertheless.
For James Kellspell knew that William Wallace did suffer more than James himself. He may not have LEARNED as much as James during that suffering (and the jury was still out on that one) but he did take a much bigger bite out of that darned poisoned apple.
Also, as much as he hated the proverbial fat cats, James had an ancient crush on Wallace. Not older than his crush on Kyle, but right after that.
Lady Deborrah calls Jim “the yappy twink”, I heard Junior call him “the little prick”. I named him “The Lash”. He hurts you badly. He lashes you and he makes you feel miserable quite often.
So, regardless of what each of us thinks about Jim’s abrasive personality, we all agree that Jim is a small, skinny guy.
We also agree that he is still very, very toxic to himself and to us all.
But not heavy to carry.
He is a great fuck, don’t get me wrong, and was a pretty cool martial artist in his time (multiple injuries took him out of the ring), but he only weighs 125 pounds.
Junior and I picked him up rather easily, even without the help of Hugh and Leonard.
His nose was bleeding profusely, so we took him to the bathroom to clean him up, while High and Leonard stayed behind.
Junior gave Jim a glass of water.
This is where, in the most of unlikely places, the rest of the brouhaha took place about half an hour later.
“Dr. Hugh Michael told me I could find you here!”
I was putting new shirt on still somewhat dizzy Jim, while Junior was cleaning up his blood all over the floor and the bathroom sink.
We all, including Jim, lifted our heads from what we were doing to witness the soft-voiced newcomer.
It became so quiet that I could hear the water dripping to the floor from the cloth that Junior was holding in his hand, and soap foam bubbles bursting at the bottom of the sink.
Drop-drop-drop.
Pop-pop-pop.
“Mr. Wells, what the fuck did you give me in that water?!” Jim exclaimed, wiping his mouth, staring at the man. “I am hallucinating heavily!”
Then he turned to me, water still dripping from his cheeks and chin. “What do I tell him?”
I stood with my mouth open, thoughts flying through my head at 200 mph. Thoughts like “Rubinstein MUST know Wallace is here.” And “If he is our Director, and he starts his crap with me, what do I do?” And “What does Mr. Milgram have to say about this?”
So I went for the offensive.
“Ask him how was it with Oksana!”
“Samuel!!!” Jim gasped, shook his head and started bleeding again.
“What? I just do not want to get a a black eye for being Jewish!”
This is where Junior looked at me, like “Why are you bringing this up.”
“I thought we were past that?” Jim threw his head back and stuck another piece of Kleenex up his nose.
“Is he?” I pointed to Wallace, who stood in the doorway, watching our exchange with a rather baffled expression.
That, and Junior’s attitude, riled me up even more. What, he did not see it coming?
An antisemite was put in charge of four Jews, and no one saw it coming?!
“This deal is a no go.” I stated in a firm voice, but my heart skipped a beat as I glanced at Jim.
“Samuel, please, I have been waiting for a qualified alpha! Every single one of you bitches turned out to be omegas, and my ass hasn’t been rammed in four years! I can’t believe Wallace The Big Shot wants me! This is my last chance to be topped properly!”
Every bit of my blood boiled inside of me.
“James, you were raised in an anti-Semitic family! So I clearly see that Mr. Wallace’s rap will be mother’s milk for you!”
“Samuel, I can’t believe you are voting against me! I really need him!
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 68
A Rocky Road To Breakfast
“Are you happy, Samuel?”
“I got paid $ 50 mln to smile.”
Jim, confused: “Is that a “yes” or a “no”?”
James was supposed to be with H.M. all day today.
Lord Carlton planned his day accordingly. He had a guest coming in. It was paramount to keep Jim away from that guest, at least for the time being. There was a reason for that.
I was going out for breakfast, when James crashed from Level 1, right in front of me, with tears in his eyes.
“It’s been 20 years of bullshit with this man!!!” He screamed and went for my stash of Canadian whiskey.
So I delayed my breakfast to calm him down, and see if I could get him to go back before Carlton’s guest arrived.
If I had a heart. I wanted to hold him and comfort him, but Henry had other plans and he did not like to be interrupted.
I told James of someone we both knew who lived with his BF for twenty years, too.
I regretted that one. That got him even farther into his angry, raving rant.
“They have been together because they WANTED TO, Samuel! I have been TOGETHER with H.M. because I am SENTENCED to him!”
Someone walked right outside the back door. It was only a matter of time before Jim was going to get discovered.
I was just about to beg him to leave to avoid a scene with Henry, when he started drinking, and did not stop.
He got drunk and just laid on the bed staring into the ceiling.
I did not know how to tell him that he was supposed to be with H. M., and he could not just abandon him, for one, and he was not allowed to be here today.
But James escaped to cry into my shoulder and to ask “how much longer”.
I hate that question.
But I felt good that he sought my consolation.
And then I felt bad that he was driven to a point where he needed consolation.
Eventually he drank more, until he passed out. Just when Kyle, Christopher and Lady Anne all together rushed in with various errands, preparing for the very Lord Carlton’s social function Jim was not supposed to attend.
They all had long, terrified faces at the sight of Jim.
Now they ALL were going to tell Henry that James showed up.
Who was coming? Mr. Rubinstein and Banazir’s boyfriend.
I could not believe it, but normally aggressive towards newcomers, Jim seemed to have zero hostility towards this man, Hugo.
I was afraid Jim was going to lose it when Hugo’s name was mentioned. After all, fifteen years ago Banazir explained very clearly in a long farewell letter that he had picked Hugo instead of James, and James needed to go out of Banazir’s life.
Jim never forgot that. How could he.
Last time there was a talk about inviting another guest of Lord Carlton’s, Jim put a blown up photograph of that gentleman on the hedge and kept on shooting, and reloading, shooting and reloading the 9 mm M&P for the next twenty minutes.
One cartridge holds 17 rounds. It would take him less than a minute to shoot 17 rounds. Five seconds to insert a new cartridge.
Twenty minutes later of deafening gunfire I was the one to hit the emergency.
When the Arkabins arrived, they had to knock Jim out with an injection to remove the gun from his hand. Even after he passed out, his face remained distorted in utmost rage, and his fingers were frozen tight around the trigger.
That was his response to an idea of outside guests he had nothing nice to say to.
Even as it was not Hugo’s picture Jim unloaded onto, just as a safety precaution, Henry invited Hugo when Jim was supposed to be with H.M.
Bummer.
As I tearfully watched Jim’s tormented figure scrunched in fetal position on the bed, I remembered Henry saying one important thing that I would have never figured out. “James is not your “friend”, Samuel. He is a Tool that escaped from God’s Workshop, and we are to bring him back.”
Is that supposed to make me feel less sorry for his bleeding, restless soul?
Jim moaned in his sleep, right in time for Lord Carlton to walk briskly through the curtain in his Chambers’ doorway.
Jim senses Henry, big time, even in his sleep, yes.
I held my breath.
“Oh!” Henry exclaimed with his face quickly turning from his regular stuck-up and suspicious to the 50 shades of fury. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be on an assignment!”
James opened up his red, swollen eyes, a result of a combination of alcohol and crying. A pleading smile appeared on his crumpled up face.
“You have 30 seconds to vacate these premises, James!” Carlton hissed in his regular ruthless manner. “I have important people coming, and the last thing we want to see is your drunken face!”
The last thing we also want to see is you opening fire on the man because you think that God loves him more than you, that is why He gave him all the opportunities for a happy life, and pushed your sore ass into a lifetime of a bitter indentured servitude.
That’s what he was yelling at the top of his lungs shooting at that other gentleman’s picture.
“Zero opportunities for me!!! All for him!!! All the good life for him, and none FOR ME!!!”
As loud as gunshots were, his every word rang in my mind even louder.
I can dance to that one. There is probably not a single grain of truth to this, for I know, before this show is over, Jim will get a reward he dreamt of for so long, and then some.
I am happy and honored to be a part of that coveted reward. So is Kyle. We are old puppets and we both know the feeling of hanging in the closet for too long.
Talking about unwanted. Talking about “opportunities for others, but not for me.”
Now, when you are in this position in life, and if someone came for you and agreed to pay, albeit a heavily discounted price - go for it, for it will be your last boat.
Because of all that I felt felt like defending my poor James.
“Is that what a loving person would say to their spouse?” I made the toughest expression I could and tried to stare Carlton down.
But he did not even turn around. “You have to make him respect you, or it is not going to work.” He replied with all his attention to Jim’s embodiment of misery.
“Henry, please! I am in pain, and H.M. is coming back, he is going to make me have sex with him! I can’t stand him as it is, but now my right side hurts, I need a break!”
That plea was followed by a very loud slap.
Across Jim’s face, I would assume.
“Get back there!” Henry’s angry hiss tore through the bedroom air.
It was hard to see what was happening on the bed from behind Lord Carlton’s tall, imposing frame.
When I stepped to the left to see Jim, he was already just about gone as a vapor. The depression on the comforter straightened up as soon as he’s body was no longer weighing it down.
Yeah, wow. I read that he was expected to remember how to do it, but I did not know when.
This came as a surprise. Apparently only to me. I guess, Henry was warned of Jim’s volatility a long time ago (no pun intended). Therefore he remained unmoved.
“Would you make sure there are no half-opened alcohol bottles left by James here, please? I must go. The breakfast starts in nine minutes.”
There, see, talking to me like a servant again. What happened to “I will treat you as an equal”?
I should not be picking a fight with him. Resistance to Lord Henry Carlton is futile. But I go against my best judgement.
“I am hungry, too, Henry. Why haven’t you invited me?” I sounded insulted, but I really was not. Simply because eight months of Lord Carlton’s supremacy later I knew better than challenging his decisions.
We were forced to eat in the kitchen before, and my shit was thrown out of the closet to house his.
Guess what, fuck you and your function. I can go get my own breakfast in less than nine minutes.
“There are important people, and there are just people. Stay tuned, and I will teach you to see the difference, Samuel.”
Christopher appeared in the doorway and Henry left with him rapidly, but gracefully.
“Oh, and tell him to study when he gets back from his assignment. He failed his chemistry test.”
That just showed up on my bridgeplate. How did he learn to text on it?
In the evening. James came back holding on to his right side, never said a word to anyone, went to bed and laid there motionlessly till nightfall.
Is anyone paying attention to Jim’s medical problems? I realize he owes everyone everything, and his creditors are riding him hard, but come on!
“What is going on?” I stopped Christopher as he was walking through the bedroom on Henry’s assignment.
“The hospital has their hands full, they offered him Friday, the soonest. That’s two days from now. Shove comes to push, just go to the emergency room, they said.”
The realities of Level 1. With no other way to comfort my ailing beta, I climbed into bed and held him.
About an hour later he stirred, and I used my chance.
“Jim, did you finally remember how to turn yourself into a gaseous state? Did your tetrahydrocannabinol help you to hear tetrahydrofuran?”
He sighed, then laughed quietly. Then turned to face me. One glance into his eyes and I felt like shooting him just to get him out of the ocean of his suffering.
Plus, I knew his every thought. He felt like he was being used. He felt like he had to fight for his every breath. And he assumed he was going to grow old doing exactly that.
“Fuck no.” Jim replied in a stronger voice than I expected. “Tetra stupid hydra is not a Level 99 entity. They are stuck in many a sad dream sequence. In order to get higher you need to raise the temperature of your spirit good 40 points above Ri-Fi gas.”
Sweet monkey balls, tell me more about that.
“How do you “raise the temperature of your spirit”, James?”
“I simply imagine to Awaken in the best of places, my love!” Jim reached out to kiss my lips, and I cherished the moment, and I did not want it to end.
Is there a limit to what this man can do? No wonder Lord Carlton bought my voice and guards his investment in Kellspell with all his formidable might.
James traverses Levels at will. He fell out of Level 2 as gas. I saw it.
Jesus tapdancing Crist, I saw it!
“Can you imagine waking up where there is no physical pain?” I ventured, not knowing how he’d react.
“Of course!” He brightened up. “I can wake up in the Arms of God anytime! The trick is...” He rubbed my cheek with his fingers, one of our ways of clandestine signs of adherence and desire. “The trick is, my love, to stay there and not fall back.”
At that moment I wished I could pump the pain out of his essence.
I thought of those industrial dredge pumps that suck up sand from the bottom of your bay, and I knew that the device stood no chance in Jim’s soul.
No man made device would be powerful enough to detox this man.
One thing was left to do, I thought as I hugged him tight - wait for God to ease Jim’s suffering.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 67
Red Moon Rises - Jim’s In Crisis!
WITH THESE RECORDS I feel like a sketch artist in a courtroom with a brawl. There is no way I can draw as fast as they are fighting!
Jim whined all day about how this guy was ”professionally and creatively satisfied”, and he, Jim, is pushing fifty and hasn’t even got any of his books sold, and all that jazz.
You know what I said?
Time is going to take its toll
Time is going to take it all.
As if he is the only one who shoots up the dreaded and despicable NES drugs.
By the end of the day I was in so much pain of my own origin, thank you very much, that I was drinking with LORD CARLTON.
I was telling him that time will claim us no matter what. Jim is silly for wanting to get stuff done. Between apathy and entropy we will be picked clean of any sense anyway.
Henry laughed, which flattered me. Suddenly, I cared that he found me funny with my dumb platitudes, mixed with tears.
First, I sold James for 50 mil.
Then, I laughed at him behind his back.
With the complicated man, who is larger than life.
And, um... laugh we did. I have not seen Henry as much as smile this entire time.
But at sunset we got trashed, and laughed.
This story is, like, totally unpredictable, my friends. I’m shocked I softened up so much.
I forgot all about stuff I was going to write. I’m drunk.
And Henry, he showed me his more easy-going, less brooding side.
I don’t know how I’m going to feel about it tomorrow, because I have already been here emotionally before.
I climb out of my shell after an amicable night like this. And then Henry goes back into HIS shell. And starts whipping James with his signature arrogant, contemptuous looks. And we enter a stalemate again.
Jim hates that state in sports, in marriage and in bed.
Nobody likes a stale mate in bed, ok?
Anyway, Henry and I should not be “stale mates”. He just needs to be less demanding and violent.
Yeah, I know I am going to feel like crap tomorrow for betraying James for the second time in less than two weeks.
And what did I do with Lord Carlton? Oh, why, I watched his “bragging tape”. Videos with other people complimenting him for his work, and his good looks.
Jim loves that tape.
The videos were positioned in the order of importance of the person who complimented him. The first six videos were from the Queen, commenting on his family’s, AND Lord Carlton’s charitable achievements.
Here I just could not keep my mouth shut and wondered if the Queen was just as misinformed as James.
“See, you are starting it again.” Henry passed me another beer, and poured the rest of his bottle directly into Hafnian’s thirsty mouth. “You only notice other people’s stuff. But you let James get away with anything.”
Hafnian drank, choked, shook his hairy head and sprayed me with a mixture of alcohol and his saliva.
“Fuck it.” I wiped my face. “I will admit that half the shit James told me about his life does not match the Arkchil record, available to me.”
“So, he lied to you about just as much as he lied to me.” Henry concluded with a reassuring smile. “I knew that. We both married a bipolar pathological liar. And if that was not enough, a thief and a rapist. He deserves every precious bit of lesson given to him.”
Jesus Christ. Yes, if you put it THAT way.
Every time we talk closely, he makes perfect sense and I feel like an idiot for doubting his methods.
But I also feel like I’m betraying James.
So, I’m going to regret this drunken heart to heart tomorrow morning. Guaranteed.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
Next morning. Was I right?
James woke up raving about how “the chosen ones” got offered “a good fate”, and he “got tucked away in the farthest corner of this Earth”, because God only cares about His “cute favorites”. He gives them the best and puts them all in one place, called Holly Woods.
Before I could get a coffee and a break, Jim trashed half a dozen names.
I’d wince every time he’d pick another super-famous name and smash the idol into pieces by talking about their defects and shortcomings, and how he, James, is a better person than they are, but did not get anything in this lifetime but a cold shoulder from his mother and a hot hand from H.M.
Does everyone remember that Jim can see the Face of God right in front of him at all times?
Does everyone remember that Jim swore not to take NES drugs?
Does ANYONE still understand what the word “respect” means?
These are the chronicles of Prophet Arzadellin who will conquer a galaxy with his wisdom and dedicated heart.
On the fifth name (ok, maybe I didn’t care about THAT guy either, but we are all God’s children!) I walked to Jim and placed my hand over his potty mouth.
“I know you are in pain. Your gut on the right side hurts, I can feel it via our channel. But it is not the carpenter’s fault. Something is telling me that if you survive this, the carpenter turned actor will be envious of you.”
“Give me a name and I will level that ass into the ground!” James growled under the palm of my hand. “None of them had done what I did for the poor, but they are the ones who got rewarded by so much attention to their talents and everyone forgot about me!”
“Jim, I need you to sit down.” I grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him on the bed. His heart was beating so fast and so vigorously that I could feel it in my palms.
Then I pulled my bridgeplate. “I need help with James. He may be going into a psychotic episode.”
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EMERALD FILAMENT
CHAPTER 66 The Energy That Replaces an NES ego-poison (Anger, Self-Pity, Resentment, Professional Envy).
From Jim’s Personal Record:
This Energy is contained in this formula:
———— ——— ———
ENERGY INTAKE/BALANCE:
60% Code: RW
20% Code: PERSONAL RECORD
————- ———. ———
Energy Intake-Balance-Release:
20% Code: PERSONAL RECORD
20% EMERALD-DIAMOND-SAPPHIRE
or ECHOED DORILIN ENTRANCE 1-3-6-9
20% Code: SUNFLOWER
20% TORRENT: Your Left Interface
20% Code: MATE HUB REFUEL
POSSIBLE OTHER PIECES:
20% Code Senses: Jewels
20% Code Senses: Smells /
Boswellia Sacra Effect
20% TORRENT: Dorilin Entrance
—————. ———— ———-
How do I know this particular pain is non-existent, hence, to be TUNED OUT?
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EMERALD FILAMENT
Chapter 65 THE NEXT DAY AFTER THE KERFUFFLE
(What a stupid name, but the full moon is messing with my head. What I should have named it would be “The Magic Chains Of Love You Can’t See Unless You Are In Love.”)
However, still not seeing any love (after what happened yesterday!) I decided to get to the bottom of it.
For those who just joined our channel, I remind with a suffering heart that yesterday Lord Carlton handcuffed James to a chair for ten hours for stealing his drug.
Jim peed in his pants because Henry would not let him go to the bathroom with the very reason to humiliate him.
He also beat Jim quite a bit, and by the end of the day my beloved man looked like a victim of a brutal interrogation.
Which is nothing new to the entertainment industry, but a total shock to me as a human being.
Even as it’s been eight months of this reality show to witness. But still, like the first day. Just as appalled. The feeling never wears off.
I’m told that James is of legal age.
I’m told that there is nothing I can do to stop Lord Carlton from assaulting my man.
I am also told that this is ANOTHER FACE OF LOVE.
Incensed and on edge, and having received zero help from James, who always seems to have amnesia about that, I needed to know WHERE EXACTLY Carlton-Kellspell protocol began.
I accessed Jim’s personal Arkchil record as Kyle on the other side of the bedroom was cleaning up Jim’s blood from all around that chair.
So I dug deep and I barked up trees.
Then Kyle was summoned to Mr. Rubinstein’s.
He came back with the new rules and orders concerning common living and cooperation, as more people would be arriving to the Strobulus.
I went to cafeteria for a quick bite, and on the way back I could swear I saw Junior!! With his head really low, he was hiding behind the backs of a small group of men coming out of the elevator at the end of the hall, led by an Arkabin.
Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot, people! Junior?! Here!??
The elevator would be bringing “special invitation” people, too. Remember how Isaak Milgram got here? Yeah. I have learned from both Isaak’s experience, and from someone who lived here for three years before us, that the elevator is a luxurious way to get here. We shall remember that.
Late at night, as I barked up some really tall trees... I mean archival book shelves to get my intel on Carlton-Kellspell connection, Kyle helped me in Andromedan legal barking, if you get my meaning.
It takes more than just standing there to open some archival doors in Arkchil Record.
Here is what I uncovered. This conversation between James and Melekh dates way back BEFORE Mr. Rubinstein befriended Jim’s young father:
JKellspell: “I will go down, but will you hold me with the chains I could not break?”
MelekhShelZahav: “That would depend on what you agree not to break.”
JKellspell: “I agree not to break The Chains Of Love.”
MelekhShelZahav: “Very well. You will have a partner then. You will be answerable to him. Remember the code.”
Right. So, to be held close to God James agreed to be tied by the mysterious Chains of Love.
That makes sense.
BUT WHY DOES his love have to be this furious, ruthless man from Misty Albion (this is what Jim sometimes calls him between us)?
And why does Jim worship him shamelessly his every waking hour, after being punched, whipped, humiliated, and made sleep on the floor?!!
Silly me, trying to figure it out instead of sleeping calmly!
Everyone was gone all day on their assignments, while I could not do mine, or even eat.
Remembering the white-hot fury with which Henry slapped Jim’s face until he bled, i cried till sunset, which is a total illusion here on a spaceship!
Being unable to lift the heavy cloud of sadness and desperation for Jim’s future at the hands of a giant royal arsehole that looks like Prince Charming, but acts like a guerrilla, I confronted my Love late at night.
“James, I just want to know what is it that he needs to do for you to have had enough!? Apparently keeping you handcuffed to a chair for ten hours straight is NOT enough!” I look directly at his black eye.
“Samuel, I stole from him! And I did HIS FAVORITE drug, when I was strictly forbidden from even thinking about it. Question is - when is he going to have enough OF ME, constantly lying to him and defying his orders?”
“So what? Has this idea about cruel and unusual punishment EVER CROSSED YOUR FEVERISH MIND, James?!” I lost it, but tried to gather it back. Yelling at him does no good. “Question is, James, what would YOU do if MY boyfriend beat the living daylights out of me three times a week, and you were forced to watch!”
But Jim’s eyes remained unfocused, and a ghostly smile played on his swollen, torn lips as he was wiping his dried up blood off the floor with a rag Kyle gave him.
He’d probably say that he DID experience the same scenario with Wolf Hafnian, but this was not the question that bothered him.
Silly me. Silly Samuel all over again.
“No, my love.” Jim responded thoughtfully, as if I did not just yell at him at the top of my lungs. “Question is, how could a shmuck like me have been placed with the “chosen ones” like all of you? This is the only question that makes me steal and use Henry’s NES-p.”
I sighed and watched the disheveled back of his head as he finished cleaning the scene of torture, basically.
The full moon was getting ready to hide behind the pines.
A rare moment for us to be alone in our FORMERLY PRIVATE bedroom. Most people, including Henry, were called to some meeting. Not Kellspell shareholders meeting, because that would have been me, too.
Kyle said they were coming back in two hours.
Jim pulled the blood-smeared handcuffs off the handle of the chair, wiped them, and slid them into Henry’s drawer. His every motion was slow and deliberate. Much like a servant handling his king’s crown.
James exuded repulsive subservience to Lord Carlton even when the latter was not present.
I hoped against hope that he would spend the precious two hours with me.
But instead Jim went into the closet and cried there.
The closet was all ours last fall. Then Lord Carlton arrived on the Christmas Eve with a retinue, and pushed us out with his extensive, expensive wardrobe.
A month ago we were allowed back in as Carlton was moved into his own private quarters with his two servants. To be treated there like a king, have no doubt.
The reason Jim was crying in what was now “our closet again” was because Henry’s smell lingered there.
Since Henry caught Jim stealing his drug, he was forbidden from entering Henry’s Royal Chambers until further notice.
This broke Jim’s heart to pieces.
Like a punished dog, Jim sat in the closet, cried, and sniffed where Carlton’s smell seemed to be the strongest.
I came closer in hopes that he’d need a shoulder to cry into after such brutal treatment.
I’d be nearby, then. We both can cry about our disturbed partner who now owns 75% of this lovely gig.
What I heard next boiled my blood right out of my vessels, and my brain right out of my scull.
“I fucked up! I fucked up so bad!!! I displeased him... Please help me become the best servant for him!” James prayed with his nose stuck where the rack with Carlton’s shoes stood all winter.
WHY IS HE THE ONE APOLOGIZING?!
As Arkchil Operator, I am not allowed to “drop” James, my charge, without notifying Prince Moretr first, but at that moment I just turned around and left for Mr. Rubinstein’s.
I wanted Jim to tell me everything he knew about Chains of Love. I also needed to ask him if he knew that Junior, Henry’s apparent arch-enemy (if only in Henry’s own mind) has arrived.
But I was done for the count. TKO.
I just could not stand Jim’s insanity anymore.
TKO.
I could not handle his slavish desire to give himself up to an unworthy man.
TKO.
And selling himself so cheap to a conceited, deceitful aristocrat who did not deserve him.
From Jim’s conversation with H.M. (Level 1):
“It’s either dow (dough, $, get it?) or buck, but she is going to pay me. Because I am not sitting in my workshop for the estimated 100 hours of a project (could be more - some parts for the lamp fell apart and I must MANUFACTURE new fucking hooks and transition rings for 14 broken pendants, is this woman allright upstairs?!), while she is having a good time, makes 60 000 a year and gets to spend it any way she wants. I do not care if her mother is sick. My mother may be sick, too, but I am not asking anyone to work for her for free!”
H.M. is heard answering something to the point of “I really don’t care, just stop yelling at me.”
Jim gets it, but he has been brewing about the stupid lamp of Stranar for a while now.
“The last thing about this dumb situation,” Jim turns to me with an acidic face, and I remember that it is still Lirda Kils Svangibir. “...is that I KNOW I am being Uncle Fester about it. I am LETTING the idiotic voice talk me into resentment. Simply because I do not know how else to react to Stranar’s attitude. The control over me ends with my mates. She is not going to come here and steal 100 hrs of MY TIME. It’s either dow or buck.”
Ohh, my records. The other day, voices from The Royal Chambers:
“Just let me wash your butt with cold water twice a day, and you will have no more hemorrhoids!”
“I don’t have hemorrhoids!”
“I am feeling one right now, Henry!”
It does not get any more intimate than that.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Chapter 64 THE FULL MOON, again.
“There is a garden in her heart, and somewhere in that garden there is a bench for me.”
Mr. Rubinstein about his Krista.
Ahem, good luck with that. But then, he is a very, very patient man.
From Jim’s personal records (right now he is working on patching himself up against the influence of the machine):
“Instead of panicking:
Check the phase of the Moon
Delay response
Let Me look into it
Whatever is UNDER THE COVENANT
Is eternal and protected
You are of THE COVENANT
I protect you through Magnificat”
This morning Henry caught James getting trashed on HIS drug, NES - p (professional envy).
As in “I was barely ever creatively exercised in my life, and I’m almost fifty, while every one of you bitches got to experience the exhilaration of being needed as professionals.”
Henry’s version of that is “Junior is making more money than me in Marble”.
While they both are way out of line, Jim’s song sounds a tad more miserable.
Instead of calling Arkabins to detox Jim, Henry confidently picked his favorite path.
He handcuffed Jim to the chair for the rest of the day.
James sat there with his eyes closed most of the time, swinging side to side gently, mumbling a lot about how he was forgotten by everyone.
Every now and then Henry, who was holding a secret meeting with his staff, would walk out of his Chambers, and slap James across his face.
Jim would shut up for a while, but soon would start again.
By the end of the night he was hit so many times, he had a black eye, bled out of his nose, and out of the corner of his mouth.
As for the last one - Henry hit him so hard that Jim almost fell with the chair. It would have been through the glass sliding door, too.
I went for a meeting with Kyle concerning the upcoming tests.
I came back to the bedroom, and Jim was still handcuffed to the chair, bleeding, his white shirt flooded with blood.
I went to eat at the cafeteria, came back, and Jim wet his pants, because Henry would not let him go to the bathroom for five hours.
“Can I have some water?” James asked me in a weak voice, his right eye swollen and turning blue.
I went to the door to get to the kitchen, but did not quite make it.
“No!” Henry stormed out of his Royal Chambers, as if he was waiting for it. “No water! He will learn his lesson not to touch my stuff and respect my orders.”
This exceptional gentleman can deliver marvelous performance with incredible amount of cruelty, and literally zero compassion.
“Henry, he is dehydrated! Please!”I begged. “He has not even gotten over his pleurisy yet, and you are subjecting him to all this...”
“How many times has he done it before, Samuel? Go through my belongings and do drugs? How many more times do you need to see that your soft approach does not work?”
Boy, did he just slap me with a chunk of reality!
And our personal issues, two days ago:
“Just do what he says, Samuel, it is not a big deal! Or must I lecture you on loyalty?”
Oh, yeah, Henry, tell me about loyalty from your high horse. Mr. “I Never Lie To My Partner”!
This is how it started.
“Samuel, why are you attacking me? All I am saying is that I have five partners, and I want each of you to have an equal share. Henry won’t take less than 25%. Therefore write down, that I want each of you to have a 25% share!”
Right! Bend the laws of mathematics around Henry!
There he comes again! He is preparing for some interview, or whatever. All dressed up, as always, with Kyle and Christopher brushing the non-existent dust off his formidable shoulders as he gives his naturally curly hair the last brush.
“Follow his orders, Samuel, or we are going to have to talk after I come back!” His voice gets really deep when he wants to threaten you.
“I can’t do what he orders me, Henry. With all due respect, 25% only goes into a 100 four times.”
“I want my 25%, I have to share James with four other men, and if that was not enough, I have to argue with you over a margin that makes no historical difference!” Carlton is irate, and TWO MORE PEOPLE in the room, Kyle and Christopher, are now looking at me scornfully.
DO THEY know that 25% only goes into a hundred four times regardless of what Henry Carlton wishes to take as his share?!
“Henry, Lord Sedgefield just called!” James runs out of the bathroom, water flying off his hands and clean shaven face all over my bridgeplate. Water droplets penetrate the colorful layers of the bridgeplate, and disappear underneath.
“Normally, James, you are supposed to walk slowly and approach me over my right shoulder, if it is very important, and over my left shoulder if it is of less importance, but still requires my attention. However, I forgive you, for today is a special case. Please deliver your news.”
Carlton must show James his place regardless of what else is going on!
“Lord Sedgefield, Henry! He had come early and he is waiting for us in the car, in the woods! We must hurry!”
There are no roads here. Or gas stations.
“Yes, James, we can go, once your ARKCHIL OPERATOR finishes writing the document!” Carlton jumps up and approaches me.
Ok, fine.
“Lord Henry Carlton (with Wolf Hafnian) shall receive 50% of Regent James Kellspell.
The rest of the shares are to be distributed as follows:
Michael Family: 25%
H.M. Zeidi: 25%
Samuel of Salem: 25%”
“See, Samuel!” Henry lightens up. “Now everyone gets a bigger, yet equal share!”
“If you agree to be with me (not with God), AND if you agree to go fast, then you must agree that men are pigs.” That’s the ego protocol that I heard from Merion.”
“Keep men at a distance of a stick, like a wild animal.” This is what Merion says. I heard that, and I had to drop to 3 Hz and hit the REC button.”
“The machine can swing you any way it wants, anytime. You will have no control over your “mood swings”. Sometimes, not even a reason for them. Some people suffer that, and depression, their whole lives. Why? Well, they “float in space”. They have no foundation that spells “I love you” when seas get rough. And, sometimes, the seas get rough BECAUSE there was no one there to say “I love you”. Mr. Merritt, why are you crying?”
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
EMERALD FILAMENT
Chapter 63
“Keep Your Oculum directed (placed) in the Hands of God. As opposed to handing it to “your” ego, and OPEN YOUR LAST REMAINING DOOR!” Jim makes an emphasis on “last remaining”, while devouring Henry with his eyes.
Seated in the front row, Henry has perfectly positioned himself to be devoured by James.
“But who are you going to open THE LAST DOOR FOR? In other words, who is your Perfect Match?” James slows down, absorbed by his “resplendent royal” mate.
His ROYAL MATE! The contemptuous, pompous, self-absorbed, egoistic ass, who made everyone serve him, and who has not said a nice word to anyone since he arrived with a friggin’ retinue and ten containers of wardrobe!
Well, heck, who am I to judge?
“What does “perfect match” mean, Mr. Kellspell?” Kyle is right here, when IMPORTANT INFORMATION is concerned. Kyle knows how to stack his cards, and he grabs his cards where he can. A true survivor, Mr. Merritt is.
Maybe that’s why he has achieved here twice as much as me in half the time, literally.
I place my “oculum” in the hands of the machine and let it drag it around, finding stuff to fret about, while Kyle has simply handed his to God and let Him guide.
“It means that you will choose THAT PERSON when “your” ego calls for you to do “stuff together”.”
Yeah? So, “my” ego calls to rip on Carlton. But I’m supposed to resist that, and choose James instead. Ohh... How?!
Right when I am about to ask the question that bothered me for so long, Christopher ends our clandestine meeting.
“Gentlemen, I received an order to disperse the gathering.”
No, really?
“THIS IS, what they call “River Styx”, people. When “your” ego is taking you for a ride! Ok, the guard is going to put me face down now!”
They are not really “guards”, and none of them would ever treat us this way, but James is pissed, I can see it in his face. He feels like he is back in the USSR when his father used to hide a copy of Solzhenitsyn’s book under a rug in his bedroom, and everyone was afraid of police.
“Oh, what the fuck?!” He confronts an entering Arkabin. “I thought we were on a SHEIREDI ship, so it is OK to talk about the terms of Awakening!”
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell, we ARE on a Sheiredi Strobulus, but it is a JOINT venture, and the Grehedis simply do not talk about these things.” The tall muscular man picks up James by his hips, essentially, and gives him a light kiss on his lips.
This is the Grehedi way of suppressing resistance of lesser species. Kiss them until they cry uncle. Very cute and very effective.
The Arkabins love you because you are an adorable human. And then you start pontificating. They see it as an adorable human yapping. Maybe a tad too loud. Kiss your puppy, rub his tummy. Calm him down.
THAT is not going to stop James. He is one hell of a determined puppy. We vacate the classroom and simply move to our bedroom, now complete with two exits via an illusion panel.
One to the Carlton Royal Chambers leading to the sea, and the other one - to the very simple common area with a large plywood table and a coffee stand.
I would have loved to go see the inert sea (inert water, people!), but James chooses the common area. The Colonnade by the sea is a part of Carlton Royal Chambers, and one needs his PERMISSION to be there. I thought this was OUR ship?
I’m just saying. God, help me through this! I’m not saying “why not me”, I’m saying “why Carlton”?! I could have found Jim ten handsome gay men. Ten MUCH NICER gay men, for sure. I can’t handle how he abuses Jim, and then gets a place with beach front property for it!!! Arggg...
“Remember who You Are” means that we need to wake up to the fact that we are a Child of God, and we need to stop bowing to the dumb ego-machine!” James watches Carlton pour himself some coffee the way they might watch the descending Holy Virgin Mary.
“We are supposed to enjoy life with God INSTEAD OF serving “our” ego. That’s what it means to remember WHO YOU ARE!”
“Would you like a doughnut?” James whispers with his eyes down and his dark, but thin brows slightly raised, which gives his face and additional expression of utmost deference.
Carlton slowly shakes his head “no” and proceeds to take his place at the table.
One thing about him is he has iron will as far as food is concerned. He keeps his weight just right (and a secret!), he looks lean and he is physically strong. I actually have not seen him abuse ANY substances.
Maybe he gets enough abusing Jim.
Only after Carlton sits down, Hafnian crawls under the table to curl around his feet, panting, and pawing a pack of cigarettes to lay on.
Dr. Michael and Lady Anne are to the left of Henry, while Jim continues his lecture.
“Time Paradox and Seashell Effect” actually wanted to ask how you are coping with DiVoing of one of your partners?” Kyle asks.
I forgot he works for “Paradox and Seasmell” now!
“It is ridiculous to think that I would leave my teacher just because he is DeVoing!” Jim is suddenly energized, his eyes afire with righteousness. “First, we are both hammered into The Covenant. Second, he was already like that when we met. And most importantly, I can smell his SOUL, that is just as sweet.”
Jim spreads his hands in front of the Arkchil directly above him, which also happens to hang above Kyle.
“That has not changed. I am appalled to see how people are attached to other people’s OUTER SHELL, for the love of God. It’s like to stop loving your father because he is wearing a blue sweater as opposed to his regular gray. Everyone understands that you cannot be so shallow as to love your father just for his sweater. Well, extrapolate, bitches!”
He said that in an INTERVIEW to “5 Minutes To Revelation”. He called them “bitches”, too.
“You are IN a body, or you are not in a body, I can still SEE YOU! Or, rather, “sense your essence”, right? And the ESSENCE changes due to experiences, not due to a body it is wearing.”
Grehedis know all that. This interview was for Level 1 worlds. Low, incredibly blind worlds. Like ours.
Lower captions show me that Jim is factually incorrect with “the essence changes due to experiences.” Incorrect. Why? I read on.
“If “essence” is Soul, and only God has control over the Soul, then “changing due to experiences” is a dream sequence illusion. Like patina on silver - it does not change the silver ring itself, and can easily be polished off.” Got it.
“What are God’s Promises good for? You can open the cage of the ego with them.”
“Whatever the Hand Of God touches, remains the way He wishes for it to. So is my health.” Jim inhales, then exhales, listening to his chest. “Every morning, every morning, Samuel, I have a cough from hell. So deep, so hoarse. Then it goes away all day. Psychotic. All this is psychotic?”
We agreed not to talk about health. I continue wondering to myself, but Jim and I tried to bury the subject for the time being. “After all, Samuel, it does not do us any good. We are both still machine-driven, and that darned thing always spins you the wrong way. Staying still, silent, and in His Presence is the only salvation.”
And I agreed.
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Chapter 62
I am allowed to watch Jim’s channel at any time. I can look up the archival record of anything, I can watch him take a shit, if I want to, and I rarely receive a Sigil. However, I leave James some privacy in terms of sex with other men. For the sake of those other men, I’d think.
But today I stumbled on a recent record (there would be no dates on the archives, for what you see is what an Arkchil saw, not something that was recorded by a device) I could not turn down. Or turn off...
I knew it was not a long time ago, because James was making out with Lord Carlton on the NEW BED! Meaning, this happened after Carlton woke up from a 3-week trance with a hundred million dollars in his pocket.
I watched James lying in bed on top of Henry, shadows playing on their naked bodies. At first I could not see quite clearly what James was doing.
It looked like he was kissing Carlton’s eyes. I kept on switching to the feeds of other Arkchils until I found one that zoomed to their faces right in time when James lowered his head again.
What was he doing? Oh, he was brushing his mate’s eyelashes. With his lips.
I watched him grab Henry’s eyelashes with his lips as Henry laid there with his eyes closed, but fluttering, and carefully pull his lips away. Grab the eyelashes into his lips, and pull away.
I was so fascinated by the action that I forgot why I went into the archives.
I am a gray-haired man. I have seen a lot of love-making in my life, and I participated in many a session myself.
But I have never seen anything quite like this.
There was so much openness and trust in Henry’s normally sullen and tormented face, and there was so much tenderness in Jim’s movements, his eyes and his smile, that I felt like I could watch them for hours.
They were literally like two cats, one grooming another. The pleasure and the closeness were palpable, giving me a warm fuzzy feeling within.
Not a usual feeling for me, especially when Lord Carlton is involved.
But this one was one of the cute moments of DeVo’ing. That, and Jim pouring beer into Hafnian’s water bowl to accommodate his DeVo’ing teacher’s drinking problem.
As I was watching it, I recalled a conversation I had with James when Carlton was in his second week of trance (but actually he just parked his body so he could follow James to his work, to the Stellarius-on-the-Sea!).
“If you knew Lord Carlton before you were drugged and asked to sign the Covenant with him, would you have chosen him?”
“Probably not.” James replied. “But not for the reasons you’d think. Henry is perfect for me. He is the partner I’d die for, if death existed. But he would have been much too expensive had it not been for Prince Moretr offering me a job.”
“Please tell me more about why you would not have chosen him?” I press on.
I must. If only in my mind, I have to put an end to this travesty once and for all. I have ulterior reasons, and many personal issues connected to James Kellspell. And I’m his spouse, his mate. Forever. I have a right to know.
“OK.” Jim agreed with no visible emotional turmoil. “30% of it would have been the fact that he was a “high born”, however, the 70% of my unwillingness would have been in the fact that he was so tremendously exposed.”
I watched Jim’s face take up the painful expression of “I have zero faith in myself and in anything good ever coming my way, so how could I have possibly wanted a man like him when I knew I was a nobody in his eyes?”
And that is not what I wanted to hear.
I wanted to hear “How come I got an asshole like Carlton after everything I’ve been through and everything good that I’ve done.”
But it was worth a try while James was on NES-4 poison. Self-pity. I can dance to that one. NES-4 is my favorite street drug.
“For the life of mine, Samuel, I learned my place in the hierarchy of this world pretty early. Never chase a prey a hundred times bigger than you, no matter how starved for love you are.”
I nodded and felt his suffering deeply in my heart.
“Even if I wanted him, a shmuck like me should never dare to go after the second most popular person in Great Britain after Princess Diana! Samuel, for the love of God, come on!”
Yes, all the obvious points. You can’t help what you are born as, and you can’t help your exposure if you are a royalty. Technically, that would not be your “fault”.
I am not hearing something very important. And I can press James all the way to the horizon for the answers I need. He is not going to snap. He will keep on explaining to me until I get it.
“How about “I would have never chosen him if I knew what an egoistic sadist, and an emotional wreck the man was.” I suggest.
“Yeah!” James lights up. “An emotional wreck!”
Today was the day of great discoveries. Jim gave an interview to “5 Minutes To Revelation” of Moretr Enterprises, as it goes (it’s not their first circle with Arzadellin). The idea is to record as much as possible of Jim before he gets intercepted by Leot.
But Prince Moretr swears on dear mother (and boy, is it funny, because his mother was Gina Yasmin!) That OUR Jim will not play that part. There’s got to be some other willing martyrs!
“If soul is energy, and ENERGY cannot be created or destroyed, therefore the path of the soul is a circle. Well, draw a fucking circle! Your life here is only but a 1% slice of it. Therefore it is simply IMPOSSIBLE TO FORGET what happened to you, as a soul, or a small conglomerate of energy, BEFORE you were born here! I can prove it to you! And you bitches told me my whole life that I was crazy for remembering my past lives! I am fine. It is you, drunk morons, who managed to forget not just the full version of yourselves, but also, God!”
Let Jim go after the muggles! He will rip them into shreds. Watch him go.
This interview was not for Andromeda, however. It was for Level 1 civilizations of some backwoods satellite galaxies of Andromeda. I totally forgot their names.
And that’s a bad kitty, because the planet that Jim will receive as a reward for this operation will be on those legally murky territories. Leot does not really own those, but he can still start a war there.
That’s why we will be a “Phillipos protectorate”. If Kassiopeians want something done, they have to do it themselves, yes. More later on the interlevel politics.
From Jim’s personal records (I can see this as a text, or, I can pull up a video-recording, basically.
Jim, writing stuff down in a paper diary, since he is not allowed to use any Level 1 electronic devices):
“Responses to ego-jerks (My Prince is helping me to map this fucker. Playing “morskoi boi” with the ego-machine!)
Response against “let’s talk so we can’t hear God” ego-jerk:
“My lips are not moving, because I’m listening to You.”
This usually stops that bitch dead from constantly pushing me to talk. Tired of that protocol. My mind craves PEACE from itself!
Response to the ego-jerk of impatience:
“My Prince will tell me WHEN.”
Response to the ego-jerk of “circumstantial fear”: “There is no way this can happen, because we took precautions”
In cases where you can’t take precautions (the ego-machine tries its damnest (no pun intended!) to create fear-inducing situations in your mind):
“My Prince will never let it happen.”
When that was not enough to reduce my mental acidity due to yet another (almost always) ego-made-up health issue, Prince Moretr would say “if this happens, then it is on me”. Or, “I’ll pay you double for your trouble.”
It would work, and make me feel less scared, because I KNOW Prince Moretr.
My relay point with God is Prince Moretr (HIS relay point is Utolika the Elder, now. You can’t span 13 bln yrs of Distance through just one person!).
Well, you need to know Jesus really close for it to work. For He is YOUR relay point to God. You people are going with Jesus after this gig, but me and my team are going to stop over at my buddy Prince Moretr’s first! And meet Melekh!
Oh, back to the lecture.
Response to the ego-jerk of “health issue”:
Remove fear. It is an incorrect protocol.
Do not let the ego-machine “bunch it up”:
“Oh! It’s going to get worse very quickly!” Or, it’s favorite: “It will kill you within a year!”.
No, none of that. This is a DREAM, fully controlled by my Father (Melekh, as we “drop” Him down to Level 1).
I am of the ENERGY. All I need to do to be healed is RELAX and let Father manipulate the ENERGY that I AM, so I get better.
There is NO OBJECTIVE REALITY in which I am “sick”. That is an ego-lie.
On an unrelated note. The other day my most marvelous Henry talked again about how hard it is to stay at Lucy’s (Samuel’s note: it is their cockney for “staying sober”, “being lucid”. Hilarious guys.)
Here is what I figured. There are only 15 waking hours in a day that I need to survive. These could be broken up to five three hour blocks. Then you get through each of the blocks.
No matter what you are going through, all you need to do is to make it to the END OF THE CURRENT BLOCK. This way the suffering is broken down to manageable pieces. Technically, all I need to do to survive is to make it to the NEXT HOUR.
Eventually all this will be over. We will complete the Mission, and Melekh has arranged for me and my team to “spend a summer” at Prince Moretr’s Stelarius-on-the-Sea with my mates.
I will get to see the strange objects inside of the columns and the floors of the Colonnade.
My teacher can plunge and swim in the INERT seawater. I wonder how that feels!
Samuel will write about all of this.
Henry can have his own movie studio with a formidable budget and millions of viewers in Metarix Sleeve alone, hungry for his most dazzling performances.
His Majesty can have all the Estelian women he can eat. Ha-ha.
And Dr. Michael can have his own Estelian theater, where he will be the Star!
I will finally be very fair with all five of them. Each will get 25% of my time!”
Hilarious. Classic James. Let’s continue. Let me switch this to video instead of just text. Here we go, I can see pensive James writing in his personal diary.
“I no longer listen to the “ego-radio”, because I don’t understand it anymore.
Ego-frequency manifests itself in intentionally distorted protocols.
I want to be happy and healthy, therefore I only listen to Prince Moretr.”
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Chapter 61
The Amazing Treasures Of Love
Are hidden behind the Door of Sacrifice.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
Terminology:
NES 1 Anger/Hatred
NES 2 Grudge
NES 3 Resentment
NES 4 Self-pity
(I shoot up this one a lot, but I am not answerable to four husbands, either!)
NES 5 Creative/Professional envy
(Henry claimed this one, and James is not allowed to touch it)
(Get the rest from ABINATS File (the Russian version.)
“The Awakening is inevitable, James. You can’t try and stay asleep because it hurts to wake up.” I hear the deep voice of Prince Moretr, but the words are of Melekh Shel Zahav.
“It hurts incredibly more to remain asleep, my Prince! I am continuing my Awakening with all my courage!”
James is seen shaking and crying in the shadows, no courage can be detected in his features.
On the contrary, shadows exacerbate the expression of fear and pain on his face. He rubs his cheeks, then cries into his hands. “I need to shave... Henry will get upset if I do not...”
“You really want Henry, don’t you?”
“Yes...” James breaks down and sobs for what feels like forever (copy H.M.). “I own his ass, but HE OWNS MY HEART!”
The twilight gives way to the night.
Then, after a long while.
“Please tell me what I need to do to make eight hundred million dollars.”
“No.”
“Please tell me what I need to do to make Henry happy (copy: H.M.)?”
“There you go. Good job forming the correct statement. Money is only but a tool. But now you need to calm down. Go to sleep. We will talk tomorrow.”
TOMORROW.... This morning.
Jim OD’d in the classroom, and collapsed.
WHAT have I missed this morning? Or, rather, HOW could I miss such a state of mind?
And, the most screwed up part is that tomorrow is Henry Carlton’s birthday. The actual one.
If he was planning it, could he have, at the very least, planned to have it AFTERWARDS??
So, James got up this morning, took a shower and shaved, while Hafnian was all over him, panting and humping his leg until Jim inserted a pack of cigarettes into the wolf’s mouth and pushed his hairy butt outside.
Then Jim went to the Chamber to kiss (kneel and worship) Carlton goodbye (they were only supposed to part for two hours!).
He, then, proceeded to kiss me, too.
Hafnian was done smoking, he slipped through the sliding door as a human, turned wolf in one powerful jump, then he was a grey cloud that entered James through his left side and folded inside of him.
And Jim left for his class.
He meant to get shitfaced. He probably already had a syringe in his pocket!! He looked me straight in the eye, and he never told me a thing.
Ten minutes later, as I was dressing up for a briefing of Arkchil Network operators (darn well knowing Christopher the Brit was going to be all decked out, and exactly on time... for the love of God, you can’t keep up with the English!), the sound of rushing footsteps in the hall racked my heart.
Arkabins are such heavy creatures. They are meant to be everything for their Grehedi. Including a bodyguard. They are bred to withstand the darkest of hours. And they are educated to be rivaled only by the Salutrians.
Other than that, it’s “Katy, bar the doors”.
Also, their footsteps are impossible to confuse with the heaviest of a human.
ONE of them would come in to break up our fights.
A FEW OF THEM running towards where Jim just went made my blood pressure go through the roof.
“Samuel, it’s time!” Christopher’s head appeared through the curtains of Carlton’s Chamber. The rest of him stepped in a second later, dressed in a suit with a white shirt, complete with a tie.
Just like I thought. Are we ever going to get casual here? Why are we showing off in front of the aliens whose clothes are only but an illusion?!
Technically, Moretr and Kumlatov are naked in front of us. Just FYI.
And here I am, squeezed into a suit at eight in the morning on a Saturday.
“There is something wrong with James!” I say, pointing to where I heard the footsteps.
Suddenly the collar of my shirt is not just tight, it’s suffocating. I feel nausea coming to my throat.
And I realize that I lost my tie.
“Uri Kumlatov is here, Samuel. He needs to see ALL Arkchil operators, and that includes you and me.”
I just had it in my hand. Where IS my tie?
“I think Jim did something to himself.” I could not argue anymore, I just ran out of the bedroom, past the door to the kitchen, and straight into the classroom.
I could only see Jim’s body, and an Arkabin I did not recognize holding his stabilizer to Jim’s temple.
This is where two large hands embraced my shoulders ever so carefully and showed me out of the door.
I obtained the footage by this afternoon.
“My operative is down, sir.”
We can’t hear Moretr’s response, but his transmitting Arkabin can.
“Regent Kellspell. He injected himself with NES 2/ NES 4.” The Arkabin holds his stabilizer to Jim’s head, reading the information. The stabilizer acts as a transistor, amplifying the signal.
“How much did he take?” I can finally hear Moretr.
“Not much. A fraction of a unit, but it was a 97% solution. He is hallucinating heavily.”
“Penetrate the hallucination, tell me what sorrow torments him. Who reported him?”
“He self-reported after he took the drug, but before he passed out, my Prince.”
“We can get this under control.”
“It gets worse, my Prince. Hafnian was in flinger left position at the moment of injection. Kellspell took Hafnian with him.”
“Do not let them fall too deep. I will be there in eight and a half minutes.”
That means Moretr was on the “outer orbit” of the Strobulus.
The footage ends and Henry turns to me. “What is “NES”?”
“Non-Existent Substance”, Henry.” I explain, knowing it from a myriad of other Arkchil records.
“What about “flinger left position”?”
“It is when Hafnian crawls inside of Jim to sleep and recharge. And Jim can pull him through because he is essentially a large chunk of an Amatrix who can charge all of us at the same time, AND this ship.”
“I knew that James stole the biggest ring of intelligence there was!” Carlton quips.
Oh, come on! There is not a level on which this is true! But I bite my tongue. He made a hundred mil and I didn’t. So I slip into a different tactic.
“I hear they are using James instead of a Tribelin.”
Carlton leans to Christopher, who explains.
“Like I said.” Henry shrugs.
“Please don’t tell Henry!” Was the first thing James said when he was revived.
“That is why he keeps on trying to self-mutilate - shoot himself, OD on a dangerous ego-poison - it is because he follows the order of “his” ego to drag an insurmountable amount of weight - a constant worry about his health.”
“Ok, so, why is he doing this instead of serving me?” Henry is relentless in achievement of his goals. A remarkable quality, applied to despicable goals.
Or, is that what a relationship is supposed to be?
“Because he does not know how to unlock the chain that forces him to listen to the ego-instruction in his head.”
“How? How do you unlock it?”
“By handing your worry to Me. But for that you need to have COMPLETE TRUST IN ME. Jim’s TRUST IN ME is incomplete yet. This is where the dirty water of ego-programming seeps in.”
“How do we help him finish building his spiritual boat...” I start and know that I broke a very important rule: I did not speak about Lord Carlton.
For he is looking at me with this expression: “I thought you understood what it means to serve me.”
Ok, let me correct myself. “How do we help James Kellspell finish building his spiritual boat so that Lord Carlton and his family could get through the Pearly Gates.”
There is no one else who needs to get back Home, you see. Just his royal arse.
“A remarkable turnaround, Samuel. I always believed in you.” Carlton nods.
One thing about the man is that he always makes his wishes and desires very clear.
“Thank you.” I whisper.
I hate dancing to his tune. But Carlton finally subdued me. Between his common sense and logic, his plan on how to handle James and his inexplicable ability to make money, he got me.
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Chapter 60 The Measure Of Intimacy
“Kisses taste better after they were seasoned with trials and soaked in tears.”
Leonard Rubinstein to
Samuel of Salem
on my issues with Jim!
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
Good morning, America (all Level 1, actually!). Where most of us are still reside physically. As our awakened souls are on a Strobulus, taking us ever higher VERTICALLY, all the way back Home.
We will still need to open the Pearly Gates to get back into the Garden of Eden. It’s not God who locked those gates. We locked them on the way out. 13 billion years ago. And we lost the Key. We even forgot that we EVER had any key to God’s House.
This is where James Kellspell comes in. He claims he has the key that opens up Levels. But he has never tried it on anything bigger. Like the Pearly Gates. Again, they are not locked from the INSIDE. But from the OUTSIDE. By Adam and Eve, if you will.
We will reach our destination in five hours. Five hours in Level 90 Allied Entities time, or what, because I know that their one hour is, like, one year here. Anyway, must make it in time to pick up fifteen thousand of Dr. Michael’s followers trapped under a grid.
The tide is in five and a half hours. Dr. Michael screams about that every night. More on that later.
Last night, yeah. So much happened. Jim found another piece for his Key. Everyone understands how important it is to help and support James, to be there for him while he gets his invention together, and while he still has time. And healthy enough to work.
Everyone, but Lord Carlton. He would berate Jim for breakfast, humiliate him for lunch and whip him for dinner. He’d make Jim bow and scratch for hours, seriously.
Yesterday I watched James grovel at Carlton’s feet for 46 minutes. I timed them, yes.
“You are NOT to lose your temper!” Carlton yelled at Jim. “Can you imagine Queen’s lady-in-waiting get pissed and start throwing plates around?!”
“Yes, Henry...” James whimpered into Carlton’s pants, sniffing his left leg, and licking the fabric.
“Get away!” Carlton smacked Jim in the head. “You are to wear socks. Black socks only, James! How many times do I have to repeat myself?! I expect more understanding from a man of your standing! Your IQ is 123!!!”
A funny thing about numbers in dossiers. Lord Carlton lied about his height (increased it by two inches), and Jim lied about his IQ by a few inches there, too. It would have been 123 if he was able to count beyond the eleven digits nature gave him.
“You are not to talk to me until I talk to you. You are not to stand there and sniff me, twitch, and rub your scratchy, unshaven face on my shoulder, mumbling “Henry-oh-Henry” every three seconds!”
That’s exactly what Jim does, yes. Every day.
“But Henry, leaving my scent on your shoulder is a sign of affection...” James mumbled, on his knees in front of Carlton, his profile sharp against the darkness outside.
“Can you imagine the Queen’s staff rubbing their faces on Her Majesty’s shoulder as a sign of affection?! And how long will it take you to understand that your behaviour is inappropriate?”
What is it with the reference to the Queen all the time? Is this all they see?
“I will learn quickly, Henry, please, don’t get mad... I will not do it anymore...” Jim stuck his face between Carlton’s shoes, and rubbed his cheeks against the sides of those.
“You are doing it right now!”
Smack.
“You are also not to contradict me, ever! Not in public, not in private. You are not to argue with me under any circumstances! I am only to hear “Yes, sir”, “No, sir” and a short explanation of your current grievance.”
Right. And then do nothing about that grievance. Needless to say, good thing Moretr is here to balance us all. If it was not for him, Carlton would have whipped James to death many times over.
“No more “I love yous”. It is cheap. Instead of “I love you”, you say “Please name your price”, and “How can I serve you today”.
“As you wish!”
“No more “forgive me’s”. Instead you say “I screwed up, how can I make it up to you.” Then you give me a blank check, and be ready to back it up.”
“Yes, Henry... Anything you want.” Jim’s heavy breathing lets us know that he has reached the stage of sexual excitement commonly known as “on edge”.
“Stop rubbing yourself between your legs! Did you understand the new rules, or would you like to write them down?”
Forty six minutes later of THIS Carlton finally abandoned the crying Jim and went for a cigarette with Dr. Michael.
Carlton was crying, too, I must add. Every time he cries, his eyes get really red, and stand out grotesquely on the background of his very pale skin.
His were tears of anger, though. He was genuinely offended at Jim’s behaviour. And he was desperate trying to get his partner to grow up. Or, he was determined to get his servant under control. I let you decide.
I must admit, Carlton said a lot of right stuff. Yet, there was plenty I did not like.
Who else is going to alert the Captain to the situation? I must be Jim’s faithful Spock.
I pulled James outside of the bedroom, darn well knowing that our conversation will end the second Carlton walks back.
“Jim, he is dragging you into his world. He is grooming you, don’t you see it? You will wake up one day in his castle standing at attention in front of him and following his idiotic orders! Is that what you want? Because this is where it is going!”
“Hey,” Jim is unsinkable with his dumb love-struck smile. “You painted a dreamy picture! He hinted that with proper training I could be his “lady-in-waiting”.
Dreamy picture? DREAMY? Why do I always have a feeling that we are looking at two different pictures every time we talk about Lord Carlton?
“Lady-in-waiting” is not a Queen’s girlfriend, or a drinking buddy. “Lady-in-waiting” is a SERVANT, Jim!”
“Yeah...” Jim’s eyes suddenly get unfocused, for he is all ears. “Henry is back. He does not like to wait.” And the fucker literally slips out of my grip.
Oh, for the love of God!! We can’t even talk for five minutes! I feel like I’m hitting my head against a wall with this man. I guess, well within the lines of Spock’s character. I got what I came for.
“You are a dufus, an unsophisticated person, being taken advantage of by a representative of a more advanced civilization.” I say into his back. “This is what the British Empire did for centuries! You are his aboriginal population to be exploited and brought back home as obedient, schooled house servants! I am deeply saddened to see you fall into a trap so historically well-documented, therefore so very avoidable!”
“Samuel, you are cute beyond description! I know you want intimacy. I will take care of you tonight, after I tuck in Henry, ok? Love ya, and COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS!” He gives me a fleeting kiss that burns me all the way to the core.
It hurts. It hurts that just now he spent 46 minutes kissing Lord Carlton’s shoes. And only one second kissing my lips.
He will proceed to spend another hour worshipping Carlton’s hands, and then, if he is believed to be deserving, he will spend the night slobbering over Carlton’s body in their cozy boudoir.
Well, I DID choose Jim as my Scourge.
Count my blessings... Lessee...
I formed an alliance.
We reached a deal.
As a part of that deal I basically sold my Kellspell voting rights for fifty million dollars.
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EMERALD FILAMENT
Chapter 59
If you look into the eyes of fear,
Then there is no room for God.
If you look into the Eyes of God,
There is no room for fear.
A Sheiredi Proverb
“Christopher, why am I doing this?” I mumble. It’s early and I do not want even to face my own death this early, let alone anyone else. “Aren’t you the one who deals with “organizational issues”? What is this memo? “On Common Areas: What is to be considered a “common area”. Why me?”
“Samuel, i am not the one to tell James Kellspell where to have intercourse. But you are. Read the rest. See you in the classroom in fifteen minutes.”
Oh, crap. Let me grab a cup of coffee and a doughnut. There is got to be some in the fridge.
Later in the classroom.
Speaking: Samuel of Salem (Arkchil Operator)
Present in the audience:
Regent James Kellspell
with Samuel of Salem (Arkchil Operator)
Lord Henry Carlton
with Capt. Christopher (Arkchil Operator)
Wolf Hafnian
Dr. Hugh Michael
Lady Anne Jacqueline
Kyle Merritt
“As you might already know, an unpleasant incident took place last night. Was it avoidable?” I look up to see if i can escape through the ceiling, then I look at my audience in various stages of embarrassment, and I know that no, I can’t escape through the ceiling, and no, the incident was unavoidable.
“Lady Anne was shocked beyond redemption when she walked into our bedroom and found Mr. Kellspell having a sexual intercourse.”
I let that sink in, while Lady Anne lowers her eyes, Dr. Michael rolls his eyes, and Jim sighs.
“Now, Lady Anne is an adult, and not a stranger to sex. It was not what she was traumatized by. She was traumatized by the fact that Mr. Kellspell was having sex with a WOLF. However...”
“I’m sorry, my Lady, but what am I supposed to do?” James has to look around Lord Carlton AND Dr. Michael to address Lady Anne, as they both sit in the same row.
“Jim, I was talking...” I say, but James raises his hand in my direction without even looking at me.
“Do you suggest I abandon my Oaths Of The Covenant just because my teacher is DeVo’ing?!”
James goes after Lady Anne full steam, having hijacked the topic (and subject matter) of this meeting. And having shown very little desire to apologize to the lady.
“See how he disrespects you, and everyone around when you let him?” Carlton addresses me and whips Jim with a sideways look. “Would you like ME to handle this?”
“We made a deal, you are the boss of Carlton-Salem Alliance.” I nod and step away from the blackboard.
Let’s see what Henry has to say about them common areas. We need to figure that out. Now that there is more of us, and a lady. All congregating in the same bedroom. She is hot, though, Dr.Michael’s friend and ally.
I get through the rows of chairs just behind James, and sit by a very patient and very well-dressed Kyle, who sits directly behind Lady Anne with Dr. Michael to her left.
Kyle smiles at me with genuine warmth hiding in the wrinkles around his eyes. What a pleasant man to be around! Why do I always chase him? Because I think him a pussy?
In other words we ALL are DeVoing.
“I have information that James Kellspell had five love affairs each lasting three to five years while married to H.M.” Carlton’s eyes are wet and bloodshot literally at the blink of an eye, no pun intended. “While all I did was conceal three love affairs that were never superimposed on a marriage. And while pondering THAT, tell me why this man was handed THIS MUCH freedom, when I was given none?!”
Wait, what? What does that have to do with the topic of bestiality in common areas?
I watch Dr. Michael nod to Lady Anne, and her eyes suddenly light up.
“Five affairs?” Lady Anne stretches her hand to make a point, and almost hits Dr. Michael in the face.
He barely has a split second to move out of her way, and he turns to me, without losing the momentum, with an expression of “can you believe this guy?”
I don’t know how about “this guy”, but I can’t believe this certain Lord Carlton for usurping the meeting to discuss his private matters.
“Henry, this is not why we are here.” I ventured carefully.
“Well, That makes him a serial adulterer!” Lady Anne exclaimed right over me.
“See, James, everyone agrees that you are a sinner!” Carlton presses on as if I said absolutely nothing.
“Everyone?” I butt in with less and less hope to be heard.
“Not everyone!” Lady Anne looks around. “Isaak Milgram is not here. Isn’t he a member of our team?”
“He sure is.” I nod.
“Where is he?” There is accusation in Lady Anne’s eyes, as if I stole Isaak Milgram and put him in my pocket.
“See that wolf over there trimming Lord Carlton’s hedges?” I point to the left, urging her to look through the back door, to the backyard.
It’s really not a wolf altogether, for Milgram still has his hands, with which he holds the shears. But he is wearing no clothes. He no longer needs them. The body (and the hair) is that of a wolf, covered in thick hair.
Honestly, just like in movies.
And I would dis both Milgram and Hafnian for a cheap were-wolf cliche, if James Kellspell, my Jim right here, was not turning into a were-cat.
If I did not see him pee and then turn around and bury that with his foot. Or, lick his hand and then wipe his face. Lick and rub his cheeks. Lick that hand again, and rub his lips with it. An adult man giving himself a bath that way with absolutely no regard of who is watching. Oh, and “rubbing your cheek against someone’s shoulder to leave your scent.”
None of these are cliches. What are these things Jim does? These are a tip of the iceberg of a huge humanitarian catastrophe that is going to take centuries to be discovered, if at all. DeVo is very subtle and very pervasive. The only thing that can stop it is not on Earth.
Lady Anne loses her allure and stares into the window with her eyes full of compassion mixed with fear.
“You know why he married you, Lord Carlton? Because he was drugged up!”
“You know why he married you, Samuel? Because he was told to.”
“Here is our problem, Samuel.” Lord Carlton’s face is pale on the background of the blackboard, with his captivating personality bubbling to the surface. “I see you as a valuable member of our team, and a great addition to the Mission. You, on the other hand, see me as a burden and a a distraction. And we treat each other accordingly.”
“Yes, I have a suggestion about the common areas. Let’s install an illusion panel between the outer wall of our bedroom and the beginning of the hedge to accommodate our common area.”
“Accommodate a common area?” Dr. Michael got up and looked through the sliding door to the left. “Lord Carlton, there is not more than five feet between the wall and the hedge.”
“For an illusion panel for a common area we should not need more than two.”
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Chapter 58
A number of events took place today. A huge scandal on Lord Carlton’s birthday. How predictable.
James caught him lying in his dossier. Again. There is literally not a word of truth in that beefed up, doctored dossier of his.
But this one was big. So big that James just sat there, comparing the Arkchil Archives to Carlton’s dossier and kept on asking him as to why he’d lie so blatantly about such a large chunk of his life, and just what is he, James, supposed to do now with the false intel he already hooked his protocols on.
I can answer by quoting Detective Spooner from “I, Robot.”: Somehow “I told you so” just does not quite say it.”
Mocking Jim’s gullible nature and his incredible obsession with the Hammersmith Aristocrat will also do no good. Especially in the light of what I learned afterwards.
This is what they do up there, in that high society of theirs. They lie. They lie to look better in the eyes of the other fat cats.
My bitter question will forever remain, would Jim have chosen Lord Carlton had he not been drugged up and brainwashed by Carlton’s servant?
But then, after Jim was done being shocked at the size of a fool Lord Carlton made of him, he just carried on wanting to know if “my marvelous” Henry liked his birthday present (the incredibly expensive bedroom set), and if “most dazzling” Henry is in the mood for some hot action involving that bedroom set.
But today it did not lead to a sweet afternoon interlude, as Jim hoped.
Apparently, since it is their first summer together, James did not get Lord Carlton’s birthday correctly.
And when the hand-carved redwood bedroom set for almost a million dollars was installed in Carlton’s bedroom, we all sang “Happy Birthday, dear Henry” to Carlton, just coming back from a walk with Jim and Hafnian.
You should have seen his face. He stared us down like we were a bunch of wild monkeys. “Today is not my birthday.” He shocked us by stating. “Because there is no bloody way I slept for five weeks.”
And he did not. He only slept for three and a half, which means that James was about a week and a half off.
Initially I blamed Henry for playing games. He got a bedroom set out of it. And if it was not it, then how come NO ONE from Carlton’s team told Jim when he was preparing for “Henry’s birthday” for at least a week?
Events took place later, after which Henry and I held hands and became partners. We formed Carlton-Salem Alliance, and we reached a deal (FALL MEMORANDUM states, that house is not to be built on sand. There has to be “an underlying foundation” for every relationship).
This is where Henry explained to me that there was no one to tell Jim about his mistake.
Capt. Christopher is Lord Carlton’s Arkchil Record operator, and he is not allowed to engage, unless the order is other.
Wolf Hafnian does not talk. He’s got a case of progressed DeVo. It takes him an excruciating minute to form a sentence of three words, and he prefers not to ever go there. Same as Isaak Milgram.
How I wanted to say that DeVo does not touch Jews... Boy, is it twisting Isaak.
Anyway... Painful stuff, people.
Yes, Hafnian could have used a level equalizer that would make him sound like Shakespeare at the hight of his career, let alone say one thing about a birthday, but Hafnian would never think of using it. He no longer has a need to communicate verbally.
He lays on the rug and licks Jim’s feet. Or sits with his nose buried in Henry’s underwear he may have stolen from the hamper.
Beloved Jim says it’s Beloved Henry’s birthday? Hooray! Last year it was ten days later, yes, but JIM SAYS and I will get to lick the cake off Henry’s genitals ten days earlier. Can’t argue with that, even if the thought did visit him.
And Lord Carlton himself was out. He told me that he did wake up to request a new bedroom set, but he never meant it to be a “birthday present”. He just wanted a new bed.
In other words, the abominable gentleman does not even need a legit reason to loosen the strings of Jim’s purse.
“Today and my birthday are ten days apart, Samuel. I know you think I am an idiot with an excellent pedigree, but even as such, I could not possibly claim two birthdays in one month and expect you to believe it!”
And it made sense. There were plenty of other things he said that made sense. Things like “Each of us owns 25% of Kellspell Amatrix. But if you and I reached a deal, we could own the controlling package.”
Another one not friends with math.
“No,” I said, “Together we can only own 50%. And 50% is NOT a “controlling package”.”
“Don’t forget that I own Fleabag’s 25%.”
Oh...
In other words, the man woke up making sense. Whatever the drugs they’ve been giving him, it worked.
Only a tad later I caught up to the “Fleabag” reference. Cracked me up. Is Hafnian going to get insulted, or is that how they do it in their m;nage trois?
I honestly don’t care what extra charity work Carlton beefed up his dossier with, and was that darned dossier ever kosher, for the love of God. All the man did this time was omit three failed love affairs.
The most painful one lasted for eleven years and ended in a slap in Henry’s face that the entire Great Britain heard and witnessed. The bitch married someone else, leaving Lord Carlton (and his parents!) to cry in shame.
Nothing you want to put on the wall. I don’t blame him for concealing that from Jim.
“You want to talk, Mr. Spock?” Lord Carlton said, looking me straight in the eye. “Let’s talk.”
And we talked for two hours. Jim left us to it, studying outside and smoking with Hafnian, who’d shift into human form only for things he could not do as a wolf. Like smoking. Or taking off Lord Carlton’s pants.
And Jim is not allowed to smoke with a case of pleurisy like his. But who is going to tell him?
“I will treat you as a partner, not a servant, Samuel.”
When Carlton said that, he meant to make me feel better about the deal I was about to sign with him, but instead it screwed up my brain.
I’d never say anything like this to anyone. I see people. Some of them might become my employers. Some may be friends. Or lovers. But I do not look at someone and say to myself: oh, he or she would make a fine servant for me.”
Carlton’s brain was trained to see only three types of people. Those higher than him, his “equals”, and the rest. The rest would be a pool of potential “servants”.
Forgive me, but what kind of fucking ancient thinking is that?
However, the man made sense, the man had irrefutable logic I never thought about (Samuel, do you know that sometimes James makes up to eighty million dollars a day in Prince Moretr’s employ? But not every day. Together, we can help him increase the number of such days!), and he had a plan.
Jim was asking Wolf Hafnian the difference between a photon and a boson, while coughing hoarsely into his sleeve as Hafnian lapped beer from the bowl.
Yeah, I found out what that liquid in Wolf’s bowl was! Ha-ha, funny how Jim cares for his DeVo-ing teacher, trying to make his regress as bearable as possible.
As the last rays of sun hit Jim’s eyes, and turned them from black to churned amber, he put out his cigarette, moved away from the bridgeplate and buried his face into Hafnian’s thick fur. He coughed there for many excruciating, torturous minutes until he started crying.
“If I die without finishing my work,” he finally said through his tears and into Hafnian’s fur. “No one will be able to reverse the DeVo spell. You, Isaak, and millions of others will forget the keys to their human appearance, and will re-incarnate as animals.”
I do not know about turning into an animal, but if he dies without finishing his work, I will be flushed down for another incarnation of a lonely, mostly sad life. This life will be greatly aggravated by the fact that every single relative of yours envies your “profitable shell” (your body!) and considers you to be very successful.
But INSIDE of the shell... It’s hell. Maybe I should pick an animal I like while I linger at the Store of Disappointments. I can shop here all day. Do they have a Unicorn?
“Neither one of us can control James Kellspell, but TOGETHER, Samuel of Salem, we can make shitloads of money. I could do it myself, but there is more to mine, no pun intended. We can leave Marble in the dust so deeply it will be confused with a fossil! I just need a partner. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy!”
Oh, my head. Oh, motherloving Carlton. A savvy businessman, he has turned out to be. I saw none of that, I did not.
“When did you figure it all out?!” I’m so stunned, I can’t even think. Fucking Lord Carlton made a hundred million dollars in the last two weeks, while his body was parked in the bedroom adjacent to mine. The Diva! The Hammersmith Bridezilla! The Remnant of Times Long Gone!
I laughed at him for six months.
“It is because your head is polluted with idealistic approach.” Lord Carlton is nodding to my thoughts as he invites me to his bedroom.
He psychoanalyzes me by this marvelous, large new redwood bed of his with four posts and silk curtains.
I’d be bleeding ink at how he always asks for most money in the most inappropriate of moments. And how he always wants stupid, useless shit, like hand-carved redwood bedroom set, for God’s sake, there is not a level on which this is even ethical, or environmentally correct!
But, APPARENTLY, this was HIS money. All he asked James for when he briefly woke up, was a Royal Furniture catalog.
“James operates three infinity stones, sorry for being, hm, cheap on comparison.” Carlton carries on explaining what he saw. “But this is where the comparison ends.”
“What begins?” I notice that there is a door to the right of the one that leads to the hedged backyard. A bright light underneath does not match the twilight outside.
“The stones work only if lifted together. This is what Moretr asks Jim to do!” Lord Carlton fixes me with a stare of his always somewhat suspicious and somewhat accusing eyes.
“What is the purpose of that exercise?” I wonder if this door that I see leads to that dumb torture chamber Jim and Hafnian hide in here.
“I do not know exactly. But Moretr asks Jim to keep lifting these three stones, all at once. There is the green emerald on the top of the triangle, there is a white, shiny diamond in the left corner, and the blue sapphire in the right corner. Most of the time Jim can’t lift all three at once with his oculum. But if he does, he becomes “very valuable” in the eyes of the Grehedis that watch Moretr’s show. These other Grehedis pay Moretr what we could see as “money”, if his experiments are satisfying to them. James literally could make millions, if he ever asked for it.”
“How did YOU get it?” I ask with more intensity than I intended. It’s NOT about the money for me, as much as about how he figured it all out.
Henry’s nose, always directed at sniffing out PROFIT, must have misread Jim’s title (PROPHET Arzadellin, get it?) and followed Jim through the force field, and into Prince Moretr’s Stelarius-on-the-Sea. To watch the show Moretr was making with James for like-minded Grehedis, to achieve the results they expected. Henry has no idea what is it that Jim does for Moretr, but he sees a lot of money.
“Moretr could see me, obviously. So I sat on the pillows for as long as I wanted, watched Jim, and then asked for the money as his spouse. Jim made the equivalent of seventy million dollars just that first time. And he only could hold the stones for about a second. It could be longer, and I could train him on how to hold them longer.”
“But how did you convert Andromedan money into a bedroom set?”
“That is the hardest part. Every type of currency is tied to your karmic credit score. People with a poor karmic credit score, like most Grehedis, can’t buy shit for their local currency anywhere else, because the Greater Virgo Cluster knows Andromeda as a retarded backcountry dictatorship. Their money is not backed up by their ethics, and no one wants to trade with a guerrilla.”
We pass Henry’s bedroom.
And then Christopher opens these very two white doors.
Lo and behold, it is not what I thought. We are flooded with light as we find ourselves in a large building with tall ceilings, with paintings and tapestries on the silk-covered walls, complete with large windows to the sea!
Holey friggin’ shamoley. I understand that after two weeks of trading James Kellspell on the Andromedan market Lord Carlton made a killing and acquired an art gallery, but how gig he get access to the sea in the middle of pine forest which itself is inside of a spaceship?”
Kyle comes out of Carlton’s bedroom door, dressed in a new suit with a red rose in a handkerchief pocket. He nods to me with a smile of a man whose salary just got tripled.
So, it pays to work for Lord Carlton. Everyone seems to be agreeing with him, and happy to do so.
Jesus tapdancing Christ, what did I miss?
“It is not a spaceship, it’s a Strobulus.” Henry answers my thoughts. We are one 75% capacity cable now, I forgot.
“Meaning that a Strobulus moves upwards through levels all the way to Level 99. Like an elevator. While a spaceship can only move horizontally, in space.” Henry stops by a truly remarkable painting of a forest glen, with a stream taking most of the foreground, reflecting the sunlit woods beyond in every colorful detail.
“Did you figure all of this out while laying knocked out in there?” I can’t help but marvel at the view of sea waves beating against the marble steps, descending into the water. And Carlton’s capacities at grabbing at the gist of things.
“Technically it’s called “parking your body” Carlton nods to Kyle and he opens the doors that lead to the sea. “And no. Christopher was gathering intel here while I was watching Jim’s show in Stelarius-on-the-Sea. Then we brought our heads together.”
The breeze hits and envelops us. It does smell like Earth sea. And yet, it is not. I must know what that water is, for it is not the salt water we are used to. It is something else.
“What if Jim dies this year?” I bluntly go after the white elephant in the room.
“Then we are never going to be able to cash any of it in.” Carlton responds quickly, with a hint of annoyance. “Mr. Merritt, would you bring us two glasses of champagne, fruit and two forks, please?”
We will celebrate the birth of our Alliance!”
“When painting a dark picture, don’t forget to leave room for miracles!”
And then he winks at me, the sea breeze blowing his salt and pepper hair all over his head, making him look youthful and carefree at 61. “I feel like flying, Samuel!” He sings quietly, but confidently.
I am exactly ten years younger and I feel like a bottle of Canadian whiskey. Also quietly and confidently.
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Chapter 57
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
A blackboard. The Blackboard. On it, James keeps on writing the same sentence: “I will never let the machine (then he crosses out “the machine” and instead writes “ANYTHING”) kidnap me again from my Father!”
He writes that about 50 times, and there is still half the blackboard left, as we all watch in awe.
This is a live broadcast of James Kellspell’s lecture to the Arkchil Channel with an open re-broadcast, and an audience to entertain. But Jim does not seem to care.
He proceeds to talk to himself, impersonating Prince Moretr (Moretr has a really deep voice):
“Remember, James, we needed to talk about your breathing. You had a habit of shallow breathing. You would never see me about this. You used to relay “your” ego’s response “oh, we don’t have time for this”. Next thing you know, you’ve got pleurisy. No wonder. You felt like a chased rabbit for years. And you would not let me address it, until you were in too much pain to even think. And after all that you dared to listen to the ego-radio in your head that blamed ME for giving you the condition. No, really, James? And you are telling me that HENRY is a liability?”
I could laugh at their exchanges all day. Especially when Jim repeats Moretr’s words on live air. He is really loose with the regulations. This is the kind of a character he is told to portray.
Why was Moretr telling this to Jim only two days ago as opposed to EARLER? We are MUCH CLOSER to our target destination now, so Moretr can actually get a grasp on Jim’s ego-induced shallow breathing, and give us a treatment plan.
Better than crying helplessly over his drugged-up body in bed. Like I did for months, before the jolly bunch arrived one by one. Yes, people. We had a very tough winter, and no one gives a damn!
But James Kellspell is still not awake ENOUGH. Still under the influence of the darned machine.
Kellspell finally turns to us. “As you know, I have been fried on a hot grid of health issues recently. If it was not my chest, then it was my back.”
His statement is met by silence, for no one knows how to react to the pain he has been experiencing, and still going through, so close to The Original Source.
“I have not prepared any lecture, people. I was simply too psychotic over my symptoms to put anything together.” He shrugs.
A whisper passes through the rows.
“I would have loved to prepare something for you,” he continues, “but I spent half the day washing and grooming Henry, because tomorrow is his birthday. And the other half the day...” Jim makes a meaningful pause. “I was in bed with chest pains, struggling for breath. But I made it, and I’m here. So, what do you want to talk about?”
The right edge of Jim’s bridgeplate lights up murky green.
“I’m sorry, I have to step out now.” Jim looks at the bridgeplate.
I mean, not being prepared was not bad enough.
“Mr. Kellspell, we are live.” Christopher reminds in a quiet voice.
“Christopher, HENRY needs me!” James responds in a very serious tone, and quickly leaves the room.
And then, after a second of bewilderment and embarrassment, everyone looks at me.
No, really? “Mr. Chekhov, you’ve been shadowing Mr. Scott...”
“Just because I am Jim’s Arkchil Network
“I might feel hurt sometimes, but I do not feel being controlled by any “machine”. Can you help me see why and how I’m missing the whole idea of the “ego”? Christopher gives me an intent look.
Ok, right, I have asked for it. Now I have to “play James”. Remember all the stuff he’s been telling me.
“The machine is programmed to disrupt you.” I begin to respond slowly. “It is designed to “help” you develop various phobias and pet illnesses, inter alia, like our new “lawyer” Kyle would say.” I glance at Kyle, and he is impenetrable. Smiling politely at me. He is going to deliver a bomb I will not forget any time soon. “And you would not know any different, because you are asleep under it’s control.”
However, now we are SO MUCH closer to our “target destination”!
What do I mean by being closer? Jim is AWAKENING to the Face of God, emerging ever higher from the cold depths of his ego-controlled mind, taking us with him.
Some people are afraid to wake up to the Face of God.
I say the sooner the better. I am ready to merge with God. I have suffered enough. And if I have not suffered enough, my beloved partner here has not had a day without pain in ten months.
“Is there a meaningful way of communication with the machine?”
“Communication with the machine is ALWAYS harmful, dangerous, and destructive for your soul. The machine brainwashes you against God in a thousand pervasive ways you can’t even see.” James takes a breath and casts a look at us. “Why are you here?”
Each of us has their reason, I guess. But most of us share this one, off the top of my head.
“To get fucked by James?” I say rather loudly.
Christopher is the only one who raises his brows, but more in a perfunctory way, than in true denouncement.
No one dares to oppose what I said. Everyone gets it. Watch what Jim is going to say next. I heard that a thousand times already.
"Yes, but that is just a nice by-product of this enterprise.” Jim nods in a satisfactory manner. “And your asses are worth their weight in gold. But it is not your asses that I desire most. Most of all I am here to fuck your brain. To get you to see what some of you are already beginning to see. Dr. Hugh Michael is ahead of all of us in figuring out what is it that we need to SEE.”
“This is how it works.” Jim makes a drawing on the blackboard that resembles an air distillation tower. “An event comes in from here.” He points to the bottom of the tower. “This is the tower of your being, your soul, basically. It is under the control of the ego-machine. The ego-machine obeys the programming YOU put there under the influence of the poisonous apple, already mad at Father (Level 99, the closet in Father’s House). The programming breaks down to a bunch of reasons to self-inject the poison.”
James draws an arrow pointing towards the top of the tower. “An event will be “received”, and “interpreted” by the ego-machine using YOUR (before you fell asleep and woke up here) protocols with an idea of forcing you to inject one poison or another. For example, if you are hooked on the poison of regret or disappointment, the machine will be sending every event in your life through the prism “how can I be disappointed in this situation?” The answer will come to you FROM WITHIN. On a sleeping Level 1, just one level below us here, you are NOT AWARE of the games that are being played behind your back. Or rather, from just above you, for right now your lifeless body is laying at Father’s with your head under the chair with a tape recorder of a voice on it. This is the voice that instructs you on how to stay regretful and disappointed (or angry and hateful, you write in your own drug of choice) pretty much your entire life.”
“I have a question.” Kyle, dressed in a suit and a white shirt, raises his hand while holding a notebook on his lap and looking at it often. “Kyle Merritt with Time Paradox and Seashell Effect of Pelargonium Consortium. How do we know that we are “under the influence of a poisonous apple”, as you put it, sir?”
Wha-at? Kyle now got a job with Paradox&Seasmell?! Geez, the man is making a blazing career. Not two months ago he came here and cleaned bathrooms for a living. I guess HUMILITY PAYS on a Sheiredi Strobulus on the way to beleaguered, war-torn and troubled Andromeda!
“Good question, sir. My condolences on the passing of your most revered leader.”
Again, wha-at? The Patriarch of Pelargonium died? When? More on that later, please, Jim?
“Here is the answer to your question, Mr. Merritt. Dr. Michael, you are the only one who is allowed to have a phone from Level 1. Will you please show it to us.”
Hugh, dressed in a black shirt and d black slacks, pulls out his phone with his left hand, and holds it above his head for everyone to see.
Dr. Michael is left-handed. Screws the heck out of my head. Jim’s too. He used to tell me that he’d be bewildered at a huge difference in perception between the left-handed and the right-handed people. He started a research on that.
In the long winter nights {Dorilin Alaetar-Kriagir Yaseremshan, citation needed} we had plenty of time to talk about anything in the world, but he never elaborated on the results of his research.
A couple of times when I would bring up the subject, his face would get pale, and his eyes pensive and looking inwards. As if he drank an entire Goblet of Sadness.
Only recently I found out that a cease and deceased order was issued to stop his research, including with the rest of his activity on Dr. Hugh Michael’s account {Yaseremshan PRITEMIR-Yaseremshan-Alaetar, citation needed}.
That was the same year Jim committed a sexual assault on Dr. Michael.
“Please hold your phone steady for the recording Arkchils.” Jim touches his bridgeplate of an emerald triangle, and a photographic copy of the back of Dr. Michael’s phone is projected onto the blackboard. “What do you see?” He asks us, moving his head from one side of the audience to another. “Do you recognize the Symbol of Separation? Have I answered your question, Mr. Merritt?”
“Yes.” Kyle nods confidently.
“At least they are honest.” Jim nods towards the lingering projection of Dr. Michael’s phone. “You let the machine lead you, name it what it is. Thank you, Mr. Steve Jobs, and thank you, Dr. Michael.”
Stunning! He better not pull this trick on Level 1. We will be sued all the way off the face of this Earth. Dear Mr. Cochran, O.J. Simpson’s lawyer, we are going to need ten of them to defend us, ha-ha. Jim is nuts. You have to hand it to him.
Capt. Christopher wraps up the live broadcast with organizational questions. Like, the new cafeteria menu. I don’t care what they have, as long as there is schnitzel.
Oh, yeah, and Lord Carlton’s arriving bedroom set. They will bring it from the backyard. But the center force field of the “assisting program” to install the furniture will block the entrance to our bedroom (on the opposite side of Carlton’s bedroom!) for the duration of installation of the bedroom set!
What? Oh, come on! Now I can’t get into my room?! Whatever this “assisting program” is, I’ve had it with Carlton’s needs always going ahead of all ours!
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Chapter 56
Name: Bridge
“My soul is in the middle of a drought.
Please find that rain they always sing about!”
You can say that to James, and he will find you the rain for your parched soul! He is that kind of a dedicated guy.
Goal: Bridge the gap of fear of death between me and God.
Needed: Faith (FIRM KNOWLEDGE) that Father will take care of me.
Note: Put “James” instead of “me” over there, because I personally am nowhere near a level of stepping over FEAR OF DEATH.
Present:
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Chapter 55
“You know how an especially wild horse gets tied to two poles at once, Samuel?”
“Yeah”
“Well, I am the horse that got tied to FOUR poles at once. Four poles, get it?” Jim grabs his groin, begins with a laugh but ends with a bout of cough. “My health is fucked. I’m not going to live past this year, my love.” He adds, breathing heavily, holding on to his chest.
Then what good are the four poles if they can’t hold our horse on the face of this Earth?!!
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
And so this Jew starts selling tickets to his boyfriend’s funeral... Sounds like a joke. I try to joke, because this Jew is tired of crying, AND experiencing Jim’s symptoms via a common channel (hail Andromedan technologies!)
Jim’s dear, low hoarse voice comes from Carlton’s Chambers as I sit here in our bedroom, writing my thoughts ( and pouring my heart) onto a bridgeplate. He’s been talking in a cooing, quiet manner. His speech would periodically be interjected by a high-pitched whining of a needy, or a begging dog.
“Well, you can help me by taking off his pajama pants. Then start licking his beautiful feet, while I kiss his lovely, manly hands. We will get him in the mood, and I will fuck you both. Then we have to give him a bath. St. Sophia sent me jasmine-smelling soap all the way from Great Britain. I think we should shave him tomorrow, and on Wednesday his new bedroom set is arriving. So, we need to take him out for a walk while this furniture is being exchanged. What are you wagging your tail for? Happy about Henry’s new bed and drawers? Oh, you are happy about the walk! Well, shift back into your human form, because it’s hard to take a guy’s pants off without the opposing thumbs!”
“Write this down, Samuel. “My Prince has given me extra time to redeem myself on this Earth. If it was not for His interference, I’d be dead by now.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Chapter 54
“Hurting your back from fucking too much, Jim, that’s pitiful!”
“No, getting carpal tunnel from jerking off all alone is pitiful, Samuel!”
From our casual conversation. He cracks me up even in bed, all drugged up again.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
Lady Anne Jacqueline! What can I say about her? She IS the rain they always sing about. Lady Anne shows up, everyone is going to cry.
To Jim, she is a female version of Wolf Hafnian. An ocean of sorrow. Apart from Hafnian, however, this girl still remembers how to be on the sunny side.
We were asked to meet and greet her. A thin lass, she is. Large eyes, and even a larger square suitcase that looked like she stole it from the set of a WWI movie.
Why stole? Maybe she found it in the dumpster behind Hollywood, who knows. All of us will end up there sooner or later. Not just her.
She was smiling as she entered our bedroom and stopped in front of the five of us, unsure of what to do next.
“Um, these are my pole-bearers, my Lady.” Jim said with a totally straight face, stretching his hand across the four of us in front of him.
Lady Anne opened her mouth slightly and her eyes went big. “You are planning to die?”
Yes, no, and OMG.
“Ahem, let me explain, my Lady.” We can’t do this to her. Scratch that smile on her face and it peels off like old paint, revealing a woman in a tremendous amount of distress, only holding herself together by a miraculous surge of willpower. And we are trading insider jokes. “The four of us are Regent James Kellspell’s spouses. HIS Pole-bearers, get it?”
She gave me an unsure smile of a person, who is being asked about what kind of wallpaper they would like in their room while they are giving a very difficult birth.
“We are gay omegas, and he is our beta.” I add, and feel like I said an obvious thing, and insulted her intelligence, but then she left me no choice, because she looks like she is two minutes away from fainting, and would not care no matter what I said. I could have said “We are little green men”, and she would have probably met it with the same expression.
This is where Lord Carlton runs out of his Chambers in dark-blue pajamas, disheveled, with a wild look in his eyes. He grabs James by his twinky shoulders and shakes him with all his might.
“James! My village is on fire! Everyone is dying! My family! Please help!”
Jim embraces Lord Carlton, and then turns to us with tears in his eyes. “I feel like Rochester from Jane Ayre.”
It’s a good thing you do not feel like Jane Ayre.
I swallow hard and wonder if I should just help Jim get Henry back into his Chambers. So much for not having doors. Now we wished we had a door to keep him in. But Jim’s heart can’t allow ANYTHING to stand between him and Henry. Not a single door that could be locked and separate them. Never.
Lady Anne gives Lord Carlton a terrified look.
“Your village is burning? Oh, my God! Where?”
In his head. The village on fire is in his poor drugged-up head.
“My spouse... Henry was found incompetent, my Lady.” Jim says apologetically, while trying to hold Carlton steady. “He is insane. He does not know what he is saying.”
There is so much torment in his eyes that impressionable Lady Anne drops her suitcase and embraces both of them.
“You might think that we are a bunch of cheap comedians...” Jim says through his tears, almost touching Lady Anne’s shoulder with his forehead. “But Samuel will contest that there is nothing cheap about Lord Carlton!”
“I hear he just ordered a bedroom set for half a million British pounds!” I just can’t hold myself back anymore. “And weighing just as much, for sure! Tell me, what was wrong with his old bed?!”
Lady Anne’s eyes widen as she casts a bewildered glance at me, and then she starts crying even more.
“My village!” Carlton wakes up, held on both sides by Jim and Anne accordingly as Captain Christopher and Dr. Michael intently wait for Jim’s sign to take down Lord Carlton should he, in his clouded state of mind, decide to go after Lady Anne. “Please! My village is on fire!”
His face is distorted in anguish, and his eyes are fixed on the unseen horizon, where the village of his vision is being consumed by billowing smokes.
“You do not live in a village, Henry.” Jim places his hands on Carlton’s shoulders and looks him in the face, which makes him look upwards. Carlton is that much taller than Jim. “There is no fire, my love. You are hallucinating
;
Empty space ends
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BOOK 4
EMERALD FILAMENT
Chapter 53
Name:
Mercy Is My Name
“We are deprived of a shape, “flattened” here on Level 1, because we are not with God. Only God can make you 3-D.”
From one of Jim’s lectures, recorded by Moretr Enterprises’ “5 Minutes To Revelation”.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
“Deprived of a shape and flattened” pretty much describes how I felt only an hour ago. But there is a remedy for that. Watching Jim’s channel is a way to obtain your full awesome shape and become totally 3-D.
So, i have accessed Jim’s Archive on his private Arkchil channel.
Here is Jim, about two weeks ago. Yeah, around the time Dr. Hugh Michael arrived.
Jim walks by me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek as he goes to the classroom for a test. I remember sitting there, feeling the moisture of his kiss cooling my cheek, and I dared not move to prolong the precious moment.
My last month’s favorite. Jim explaining to our private gathering the Arkchil record with a still of Lord Carlton screaming, his face distorted in utmost disgust. Everyone saw that one, and everyone wanted to know what happened.
No one can have full footage of anything from other guys’ channels. But I can have just about anything I want from Jim’s coveted channel.
“Yeah, ahem, the night Henry screamed the loudest was when I came back to the bedroom from the bathroom with a “dirty Sanchez”!” Jim nods to his memories as we are joined by Capt. Christopher, Kyle and Mr. Milgram.
“It all comes down to doing the right thing, gentlemen, and I did not!” Jim hides a smile.
My eyes meet Jim’s eyes, all burning darkness. He loves the stage, he lives to perform, but he is not ready for that drug yet. Look what it did to Wolf Hafnian. And to the rest of us.
“Many times Henry asked me to wipe the toy first with Kleenex before you wash it off in the sink...” Jim pauses with a sad, but theatrical smile.
An Arkchil zooms his face in until it takes up the entire hexagonal screen that is inside of my triangular bridgeplate. “Emeralds of Loyalty” are hard to produce, my friends...”
To those who are not dedicated into our circle and our terminology, Jim means “listening and obeying your partner is hard”. For it is what produces “Emeralds of Loyalty” to pay for the entrance to the Pearly Gates.
I know what’s coming, because I was there. But leave it to James to push you into a cliffhanger.
“I fucked Henry with a glass dildo...”
“James, come on!” Cliffhanger or not, I just have to call him back to order.
“What?” James resists mischievously. “Relax, Henry is not here!”
Kyle is here. He is possibly the most fragile of all, but Lord Carlton. Carlton sets the record in being emotionally fragile across all spectrum.
And Mr. Milgram is here. He has hard time with the homosexuals. But then why should I care about HIS feelings?
“So, anyway, I WASHED the TOY...” Jim winks at me. “...with my bare hands, without wiping it first...”
Christopher rolls his eyes, Isaak hangs his head, and Wolf Hafnian might as well have been a statue. Well, maybe not the statue, but a painting of a troll who sits there and wonders how old he is, and his ongoing internal torment has nothing to do with a subject matter currently at hand.
“ ...and then my nose itched! And I scratched it!!”
We all laugh politely. This man is unbearable.
This is what happened next in that story: Henry screamed at the sight of “Hitler with a dirty Sanchez” and I sent James back to the bathroom to wash up. I mean, as a Jew, it was the least I could do! :)
And another one for the road. This once Carlton hot into a pissy mood, hit James across his face with a riding crop and hissed at him to get out.
With nowhere else to go, Jim hid in the bathroom. The three of us slept in one bed at the time, before this place turned into a hospital for sick soldiers, or a refuge for shelled souls.
Having kicked out James, Carlton got into his bed, covered himself with a comforter fully, and laid there motionlessly.
I waited a polite ten minutes until I crept into the bathroom wanting to make sure Jim was not crying his eyes out, or bleeding profusely.
Basically I ran my usual CDCP (“Carlton Damage Control Protocol”).
And this is what I saw: Jim was standing by the bathroom mirror, touching his bleeding lash wound on his left cheek and writing “HENRY” in his blood, on the mirror, across his own reflection.
Oh, he was also crying and smiling this idiotic love-struck smile.
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BOOK 4
EMERALD FILAMENT
Loyalty. Honor. Service.
Chapter 52
Name:
“You speak the words
And the wall disappears:
A drawing of war...
A drawing of spears.”
I don’t know who wrote this. Found it in the Archives. Must ask Prince Moretr.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
What are these words that make the wall between us and God disappear? These words are also the key to the Pearly Gates.
James does not have the entire Key yet, but thanks to St. Sophia, he has just amassed a large chunk of it.
He’s been crying bloody tears of HER martyrdom ever since.
I have never seen him happier.
The Engagement Ceremony was good. Very private.
Jim threw out his small back right afterwards, and could barely stand till the end (it did not happen here).
“The Ceremony was hard.” Jim said.
No, it was not, James. They made you wear four rings for the four of your spouses. It was not the four rings that hurt your back!
If the Ceremony was “hard”, it was because you had to abstain from sex for the one hour of the Ceremony.
James pulled his back fucking four men a day in a conveyer fashion for weeks on end (it’s the repetitive motion with your hips that affects your small back! How can’t anybody else see this obvious fact?)
Another version is that he pulled his back helping H.M. move a safe full of guns in the basement.
Also plausible. How can I rule this out when I saw him cringe in pain and drop the safe?
However, I also see him work his hips all day long like a breeding bull.
A certain Lady Deborrah L. Katniss participated in the Ceremony. She was wearing a thick face veil Andromeda style, yeah. I probably would not have recognized her anyway.
She owns a stake of 25% of Jim via Dr. Michael, whom Jim married with one of the rings (the square black opal one).
After the Ceremony James was in bed with his back, and with the moaning (co-miserating) dog on the rug by the bed.
There was not a sound from Carlton’s Chambers. Watched over by Capt. Christopher and Kyle, he slept like a baby for the first time in months. He was now married to James Kellspell from today into Eternity. His family, thus, was safe.
;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;;
BOOK 4
EMERALD FILAMENT
Loyalty. Honor. Service.
Chapter 51
Name:
“Samuel, could you give me a transcript printout of Dr. Michael’s job interview for us?”
“Yes, Your Hardness.”
“My love, what is your problem?” Jim laughs quietly so not to wake up Henry behind the curtain in his Chamber.
“You have not put it down since Lord Carlton arrived, and it’s been six months, but now you are going 24/7 between Wolf Hafnian, Henry AND Dr. Michael. I think two things: 1. Your dick is made of indestructium, and 2. They are trying to kill you with sex one pretty omega at a time.”
From a casual conversation with James.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
“The machine PELTS you with reasons to get upset with God and shut the doors of your heart on Him, until you will have no choice but to agree with at least one reason!”
Jim comes in from Lord Carlton’s Chamber with blood on his face and his shirt. He is breathing hard, and he is swallowing his tears.
You’d think that they are at it again.
And they are. But this blood dripping from Jim’s face is not his.
This morning Hafnian and James tied Dr. Michael to the penance pole (I think that is what they have there, in their little “BDSM torture chamber”, which is nothing new, people!) and whipped him to death.
It took two of them about forty minutes until he coded...
The second stunning death here, after Jim shot himself.
Two Arkabins arrived, and pronounced Dr. Michael dead.
The dark circles around his eyes got much darker, and the wrinkles around his mouth deepened as his naked but for black pants, lashed and bleeding body laid on the concrete pad just outside of Lord Carlton’s Chambers.
The Arkabins took Dr. Michael’s body out through the backyard. There’s got to be another building here.
I watched it all via Jim’s private Arkchil Channel.
I know they are going to revive him, because this is Level 2, but I’m also looking for guidance here. It’s not like in a movie, where the actor only just pretends to be hurt or dead.
Yes, Hugh is coming back, but he DID experience the pain and the passing, and he died.
Just like when Jim blew his brains out not long ago. He can talk about it all day if you ask him, because Level 2 gives you a unique opportunity to live through death and come back to tell about it. More on that later, I promise.
I need to figure out what I just witnessed, for I will have to continue living not just with a rapist, but also, a killer.
Remarkably, both to the same man thirteen years apart.
Yes, the man will be back tomorrow, but WTF, Jim?! Hadn’t Dr. Michael and his family suffered enough? I mean, from you. Apart from other things.
And what was it about reasons to be upset with God?
LATER ON:
Jim, after watching my Arkchil Channel:
“Samuel, it is simple!” (I feel like Dr. Watson) “Dr. Michael needed to experience martyrdom because he allowed a reason to be upset with God! Whatever that reason is, he has a right to keep it private. But friends don’t let friends self-flagellate.”
Ahem, really? It was that easy? I almost feel stupid for asking.
“And besides, since Dr. Smartass Michael did the same thing as you, meaning, sign up for martyrdom and put me on the list of his Scourges, I have to perform my duties as per The Covenant, when requested. Why are you looking at me this way?”
I am looking at him “this way”, for stuff is beginning to occur to me.
* * *
“We BOTH were placed in solitary confinement, James. But it drove me mad, and you ENJOYED it!”
Carlton woke up for a short few hours, and the first thing he did was not eat, and not even go to the bathroom. His mind, obsessed with James, sent him right after the “asset”.
James was placing a bowl full of yellowish bubbling liquid in front of a tail-wagging Silver Shadow (Hafnian in his wolf form) when Carlton stormed out of his Chambers in his night gown.
“Enjoyed it?! Henry, there isn’t a body part I did not mutilate, there isn’t a drug I have not tried, and there isn’t a noose i did not stick my head into!”
Silver Shadow starts eagerly lapping the liquid while not taking his eyes off Henry Carlton.
This response is not flying with Lord Carlton. You can see it in his accusing eyes. Apparently he holds something (actually, plenty) against James with ardor worthy of a better application. Just exactly HOW LONG have these two known each other to have developed this much passion?!
“You definitely enjoyed it!” Carlton goes into offensive as Silver Shadow empties the bowl and looks up to James for more. Jim pours more from a plastic jar. The liquid bubbles over the bowl dramatically. The dog goes after it, splashing amber sparks everywhere. What IS he giving to the dog?
“I did not “enjoy” it, I just did my best when everyone around was so inept and brainwashed....”
At hearing that Carlton’s fists tighten. “That’s because you stole the biggest ring of intelligence! You stole MY SHARE, James, and I will make you pay for it!!”
“You know I will break you out!” James half-closes his eyes and places his hands on Carlton’s shoulder with feeling he has hard time containing.
“When?” Carlton snaps, his blue eyes cold and dry. But his posture softens with Jim’s hands now caressing his neck.
Two days ago I stumbled upon the papers signed by one of the Arkabin attending physicians. Lord Carlton was to be held separately from the rest of us and administered drugs I could not pronounce. He was found to be violent and danger to himself and others (I could have told them that!), but most importantly, he was found incompetent, for the abuse he was subjected to pushed him into the insanity of not knowing right from wrong.
Between here and then we had to attend a funeral on Level 1.
“Why are you crying, you didn’t even know her!” James, to me, as “Alleluia” song fills the air of the football field, and as the priest woman talks about the deceased.
“Why are YOU crying, James?” We can do this all day. While we are both crying, neither of us knew her.
“I saw the vision in your mind where you see me crucified, whispering “This is for you, Henry, I am coming for you.” James smiles even as the end of that vision is not very flattering. It’s not a secret that I dislike Henry Carlton.
Now I am embarrassed because of that.
“And after the benediction we will proceed...” The preacher woman goes on.
Silver Shadow at Jim’s feet perks up his ears and starts wagging his tail.
“No, my love, he is NOT coming here.” Jim moves slightly on the bleachers, closer to H.M. and takes his hand so he does not feel abandoned at any given time. “I do not know what “benediction” at the funeral means, but they are not announcing his arrival!”
The dog stares into Jim’s face intently, his hairy face hopeful.
“I know what you heard, but that’s not it!”
I fix the raincoat Jim is wearing, and feel his desire to smoke. He struggles with pleurisy and he knows he needs to cut down on smoking.
Between Scilla and Charybdis. Between human weakness and immortality. Between fear of death and suicidal thoughts.
A man in sand-colored raincoat walks in front of us on a narrow metal passage between the bleacher benches.
“Morning, gentlemen.” He says while passing, glancing at James, and focusing all of his attention on him for a long, piercing fraction of a second.
Jim raises his head, finds my hand and squeezes it tightly.
“Do you know who that was?” Jim’s eyes are wide with surprise.
“No” I look at the back of the gray-haired man, now using stairs to get off the bleachers.
“Ahem... That was MAGNUS, Samuel!” Jim responds in his regular hoarse whisper.
I look down and not a hair moves on Wolf Hafnian’s face. His brother just walked by, and this man... this wolf. Anyway, this werewolf has the balls to ignore him like that.
Do I judge too much? Is that what my problem is?
“Samuel, have you noticed that Magnus smelled like tears and sea? It’s like just now he came back from crying by the sea for at least a week.”
“The edges of his soul are sharp, and the depths that they hide are breathtakingly dark and treacherous. The acidity level just under the surface is 9.96 on 1-10 scale within one monoclinic unit.”
Jim’s report to Melekh on Lord Henry Carlton. Sounds like a description of a n alien planet with a very hostile environment.
“Got it.” Prince Moretr appears on the screen. “Remember, that you do not have to face anything alone. Being “alone” and “unprotected” is the lie of the machine. You have programmed it to create this illusion so you could experience “freedom from God.”
“I was a very stupid 3 year old when I created the ego-machine, my Prince! I love You, I NEED You to take me back... I learned my lesson!”
“Patience, James.” Prince Moretr’s lips are moving, which is an illusion. His voice sounds in our minds (in Jim’s mind, but I share the channel), but it is not Moretr’s voice. Moretr acts as a relay-station for a signal as close to the Original Source as Father could get for us.
Melekh Shel Zahav. Moretr channels Melekh.
“Pleurisy is killing me, my Prince... Pain in my chest, heaviness, wheezing is the most unpleasant... Always wondering if I must go back on Prednizone, but then what?
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BOOK 4
THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
(BEAUTIFUL PRISONER)
Chapter: 50
Name:
“I’m not trying to read into you, Samuel, for God’s sake, not while I still have Hugh’s moral compass in my pocket, but some stuff just... washes up! Like the paragraph where you signed up for martyrdom, and asked to have James Kellspell as your Scourge!”
James one night, after putting Henry to bed, after having intimacy with Hafnian Wolf, and then having intimacy with inconsolable Doctor Michael, and then, at 3 am, turning to me.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
“I must take my place
To keep the pace with Your Grace!” I say as I take off my jeans and turn around.
I had to entice James and I succeeded. I also had to bide my time and catch my moment, for nowadays you need to make an appointment with him just to say hi.
Let alone fuck.
He is about to be made the Regent of Prince Moretr. He will be running 1/3 of a planet that belongs to Moretr Enterprises with the remaining 2/3 run by H.M., Jim’s youngest karmic son. The preparations are heavily underway.
Henry will finally have the obscenely wealthy father he always dreamt of.
H.M. will finally have a slave he always wanted to push around.
So, as we have found out many times before, it all comes down to who’s your daddy.
James lays on top of me after the hot action.
But he is not dripping sweat and his eyes are unfocused because he is thinking of ten different things, none of which are the ass he just took.
So, the action could be hotter. It is as hot as the surface of an average Neutron Star with Hafnian, Dr. Michael AND Henry, who is sometimes too sedated to be conscious during the act. And James still burns through him hotter than with me.
I am being explained by Mr. Rubinstein, it is because James has a PRIOR RELATIONSHIP with all these fine gentlemen.
“You will develop the same level of engagement with him as time goes by and he gets to know you closer. Jim falls in love with the character, not the ass.”
It has to be a certain type of a character for Jim to get a nose-ful of the drug (usually guilt) that person was taking to poison themselves. The type of character is “the sacrificial type”, of course, because we just talked about guilt.
That’s what usually drives you into the deep waters of sacrifice. It should be love, but for the most part it is guilt. This is what gets him going, smelling a mix of that on you, in your head, your actions, and in your past.
This led me to a splendid “a-ha” moment: every single one of us here fits this profile.
Sonechka Marmeladov Lord Carlton laid himself down for his family.
Jim was stunned at the extent of his wounds.
Kyle Merritt would do anything for his mother.
Jim is raring to help to have Kyle indebted to him for as long as he can take it.
Dr. Hugh Michael is happy to sacrifice himself for the whole Earth.
Jim will give him this opportunity to see Dr. Michael on his knees giving him a blowjob.
Hafnian Wolf is just addicted to being sacrificed.
Jim was in awe of how much abuse the man can take, so they both could jerk off to the footage.
And I will reveal my reasons to have chosen the path of martyrdom. I offered myself to Jim. He wishes he was not tempted like that. For he knows he will fall.
I will be one of the pebbles on the shallow bottom of the River Styx. A pebble of an exotic variety.
To save us all he will have to cross this river without looking down. He focuses on just one ripple, one rock on the bottom, and “his” ego will tip him over.
He falls, we ALL get “flushed” for another incarnation.
That’s the theory of the Trials of James Kellspell.
This rap helps, people. I chose James as my Scourge and boy, does it burn. Sometimes I feel so unwanted.
Jim looks at me with one ear on Henry’s Chamber and another on the door to the backyard, because Dr. Michael took Wolf Hafnian and Mr. Milgram for a walk.
“Samuel, please understand, Hugh and I have not seen each other in thirteen years!”
“Because he put you away for sexual assault.” I comment to make sure we’ve got our ducks totally straight in a row for pristine historic clarity. “See, my INVESTIGATION shows, that this was a set up. They put a good-smelling ass where you could see him, and then he dropped a card with the address of his apartment in New York. Next thing you know you were taken away in handcuffs. But what good does it do to say any of this, because you are just going to brush it off.”
“Oh, my love!” Jim kisses my face, and I suddenly feel guilty for my six o’clock shadow. Yes, yes, I remember, it only looks good on the lawn in a park... I was not in the mood to take care of myself lately.
Anyway, I just... love him so much, and it is my job to go over ALL records of his life prior to my arrival. And I’m discovering massive inconsistencies between the “official version” that is going to be fed to the unsuspecting public at large, and what REALLY happened.
“I know you care about me!” James EXUDES love like a fragrant flower exudes nectar on a hot June afternoon. He is the magician of love, he is Mr. Sex. But I must resist, or I will never be heard.
You have no idea how much I care about you, Jim. And now a picture transpires from the Archive records. Poor Dr. Michael was being used to reel you in. I’m sorry, there is no less brutal way to put it.
“Yes, Dr. Michael had to do all this! He intercepted me by taking one for the team for all my other victims I had to pay for before I could have him. He wanted it no other way. I had to earn his love so we could start with a clean slate.”
Hit me with a two by four. Multiple times, over my head. Please. What a twisted, convoluted story of love. And, he, basically just confirmed what I found out.
Guys are back, and Milgram does not come into the house. He goes after the hedges with shears right away. Maybe to get his mind off drinking. But it seems to be therapeutic for him.
“Dr. Michael, what did you do to my dog?! Oh my God!” Jim runs his hand underneath Wolf’s thick belly fur and pulls out a handful of seeds as Hafnian keeps on sticking his large wet nose between Jim’s legs.
The seeds are the bad kind, you know, the stuff that burrows into your socks and pants and then you have to sit there and extract it out seed by stubborn sharp seed...
“We went to the field, and he ran there like crazy, Jim, I’m sorry! I’ll brush him out!” Hugh is apologetic, and Jim likes him this way.
“And then he got into the mud, i see...”
* * *
“What color is repentance, my Prince? If I knew that, I could see the color of Dr. Michael, the way you see him. Two questions from here. What color am I now (meaning: at this point in the footage on this Level 1) and what color am I SUPPOSED TO BE in Your eyes when healthy?”
Jim dictates into the bridgeplate (Uri’s bridgeplate, not the Emerald Filament one).
“Samuel, please note: the last sentence came back as factually incorrect. There is something wrong with “what color am I now”.
I nod and run my finger on the white tight edge of my bridgeplate. That’s how you “write things down”. The explanation could not come sooner!
“Um...” Jim looks up and thinks. “Troubleshoot two possible venues: Superimposition of Andrew on Krista, and... What else could be in the way of seeing the color clearly? Oh, the timing. Let’s run these and see where we are making a judgement mistake.”
These are “communications”. We are studying communications. I did not get this at first.
Communications is “Staying Engaged with The Original Source while under the influence of a Sleeping Mind, while that Sleeping Mind is under the influence of the machine.”
I kid you not, this is what the definition says. But it is not an official definition. Nothing from the sources Leot can control. More on that later.
You are not going to believe what happened! Wolf Hafnian just came with Dr. Michael, ordered him to stay behind, while he grabbed my twinky James by his shoulders and pushed him into the curtains of Carlton Chambers.
Voices could be heard from there as Jim flew into the curtain and moaned in pain. Hafnian proceeded to pick James up by the collar of his shirt and throwing him across the floor head on into Henry’s bed that could be seen from where I stood in shock.
It could be seen from where I was even when I’m not in shock, unless the heavier curtain is down. But there is no door between our bedroom and Carlton’s. He did not want to feel “in prison” again.
Abandoned Dr. Michael dropped to his knees by our bed and begged to be allowed in. There was no answer, but I heard screaming and the sounds of someone being lashed.
That someone was James.
I brought back my bridgeplate and hit Jim’s channel. I had a right to know what they were doing to him.
I could choose NOT to watch. But it was bigger than me.
And then, right the middle of crashing into the abyss of my beloved partner’s suffering and humiliation, I felt two strong leathery wings embrace me from behind.
“We have six days until The Regent Engagement Ceremony.” Liven Kumlatov’s voice sounded in my head, for one on Andromeda uses vocal chords
* * *
“Yes, I am frustrated, Samuel. Five days to The Regent Engagement Ceremony, and not a single member of my team is capable of telling me the truth. I understand we are doing it “Adaar-style”, but for God’s sake, everyone here is missing the point. The reason that Tirran-style government was so successful was because the King’s four spouses would always tell him the truth. And he was ready to take it.”
“I can’t tell you the truth because I know what would happen - you are going to get hurt! Like yesterday! What was that all about? We were working peacefully, next thing I know you get thrown out and whipped!
Do you realize that Wolf Hafnian actually means it? You should have seen his face when he beat you within an inch of your life, James! He left you hanging there, and he left ME IN TEARS over here, because I would not dare go and untie you! While looking at his face frozen on my screen! The only other time I saw his face that satisfied was after three six packs of beer. In other words, complete inebriation ON YOUR BLOOD!”
“Sweet Samuel...” Jim places his hands on my cheeks and rubs them gently as his lips reach for mine. He reeks nicotine and beer, but only because me nuzzled with Hafnian all morning. And Hafnian reeks like beer ANYTIME.
“Excuse me, I am not done.” Breaking away from James is extremely hard, but I will be heard. Not herded. Jim is an expert shepherd of souls. It is souls he is after, not the bodies they inhabit.
“And your precious Henry! I watched the footage live, James! LIVE!”
And a hundred times afterwards. All night. All night I watched Hafnian, Carlton AND H.M. take turns whipping James and then make him perform sexual acts on them on Level 1 AND 2 at the same time.
As Prince Moretr watched and Dr. Michael cried like a boy who wanted to do fun stuff with older boys, but he got pushed out and left behind.
All night long. All night long.
“Do you remember any of this, Jim? Henry got up all doped out on Andromedan anti-psychotic drugs and lashed you across your face with the riding crop repeatedly. You should have seen his face. He came out of his drug-induced coma for what must have been less than a minute to beat you and to humiliate you with a look in his eyes of “you deserve what I give you and you will take it.” He collapsed within 49 seconds of getting up. This is how strong the drug is, and this is how powerful was Carlton’s desire to punish you for what he believes are your sins. Tell me, is that what you call “telling the truth?!”
I do not want to be his henchman. I am terrified that he wants me to join these fanatics, these sadists. But how do I tell him? And what exactly do I tell him? “Jim, the men you love so much are using you to their personal satisfaction”?
“When God is so far away, Samuel, you have to strive towards your next holy person. St. Sofia is my next Holy Person! That’s why you must tell me the truth!”
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THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
(BEAUTIFUL PRISONER)
Chapter 49
Name: DR MICHAEL SHOWS UP.
“And if you still think that “your” ego is “gain”, let me explain this logical chain...
Goal: NOT TO GO NUTS
Needed:
Present:
“You treat me as an equal, but I know where I belong. I belong at your feet.”
“Or, aren’t you just a basket of pretty things this morning, my Silver Shadow.”
This was after Jim shaved Hafnian so they could visit Henry and kiss and nuzzle with him before they go to work.
Later in the classroom.
“Let me tell you about investments, Samuel!”
James would not know an investment if it showed up naked at his door. He made millions, but he never asked for them. More on that later.
After that I had to spend time going through the last three hectic, deeply emotional days on the Arkchil Record.
I ate lunch at the cafeteria alone, but our family was to reconvene for dinner in the Grand Dining Room (former Lord Carlton’s dining room, but now he has his own, as he is mostly kept in his Chamber and comes out only if accompanied by Hafnian and Jim).
It was getting late and I went to check on James studying in the classroom.
“Please mold me into the tool you want me to be...” I heard Jim weep. “I must become your best, because I must make the most money!”
Obviously he was saying that to Moretr (who channels Melekh).
I should have closed the classroom door and went to see if Kyle needed help making dinner, but I got locked in Jim’s intense performance.
Which to him was a sincere, albeit deeply emotional, conversation with Prince Moretr.
“My family is growing! I am a father, and I am a servant to my Prince, but I am also a servant to my family! I have a special needs spouse, and an underage child!”
“Lift up your heart, James, I will only and ever give you good news and sustenance for your family.” Moretr responded, and this time I actually heard his voice coming from far away via an amplifier upon an amplifier. Like a backwards echo that originates in the mountains and brings itself closer to you, as opposed to the other way round.
If you are directly in front of them, however, this echo is not as detectable, therefore the illusion of them “being in front of you” is less broken, and more believable.
Moretr’s words made me feel like we had hope.
And then, why yes, Doctor Michael showed up, and he did not last for a day. He arrived with bad news, crashed emotionally, got drunk on Mr. Rubinstein’s Canadian whiskey, and was expected to pass out, but instead he had waking nightmares.
He screamed with his eyes wide open with fear, and swung his hands until Wolf Hafnian had to hold him down and ask me to get a hold of Jim.
Jim was at work! He is the only one of us capable of making a living on the territory of The Andromeda Federation! Kyle is going to be the second one, soon...
James was on Level 1 with H.M. and Prince Moretr. Prince Moretr sent in his Arkabins to sedate poor Dr. Hugh Michael.
Hugh spent the night shaking, sweating and repeating about fifteen thousand people pressed against the grid and the tide that comes in five and a half hours.
Every now and then he’d turn to James, who passed out from exhaustion between caring for Henry and Dr. Michael after he got back from work, grab him and beg deliriously into Jim’s half-open owl eyes.
Michael begged James “to come soon”, or “fifteen thousand souls will be taken by the tide for another flush”.
The last reference means the process of reincarnation.
By the end of the night Jim, grabbed and awakened for what must have been tenth time, said only one thing: “I’m five hours away from the Gates and struggling. You help me get to the Pearly Gates and I will save your people”.
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THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
(BEAUTIFUL PRISONER)
Chapter: 48 (+48)
Name: UTMOST DEVOTION
The quote of the day:
“Why did you decide to become a martyr?”
“There was no other way to Awaken.”
From the interview James Kellspell actually did give today to Black Hexagon Of The United Wells Broadcasting.
Goal: TO PRESERVE THE COVENANT THAT TIES US TO GOD
Needed: A VIAL OF PATIENCE
Present: I don’t even know what is “present”. I only know what is absent. My mood to do anything is absent. Because no matter what I uncover, nobody gives a damn and no one supports my efforts to figure out who drugged up James Kellspell so he’d fall for Henry Carlton?
5:29 am, and our little monastery is already up and running.
Mr. Milgram is trimming holly hedges now on both sides of our backyard. He is doing it with a loud electric trimmer.
Now, we ARE inside of a spaceship created by a civilization that learned to harness the speed of light. I’m just saying. They COULD bring a small Tribelin engine here instead of using electricity.
But it is all the same to Mr. Milgram’s thawing soul. Service is service.
Jim and Wolf Hafnian are in the backyard, smoking and discussing something passionately.
Or, rather Jim is going there and back, talking, and swinging his hands in front of Wolf - a mountain of steel muscle with an impenetrable expression.
To finish off the imposing look, Wolf’s rugged, unshaven face is grotesquely engulfed in cigarette smoke every now and then, like an ancient volcano.
Talking about a volcano.
Boiling with anger within, I am laying in wait to smack Kyle.
SOMETHING is going to erupt today.
If this is the last thing I do.
Here he emerges from the Hammersmith Aristocrat’s Royal Chambers, all dressed up like an English butler to please his Lord Carlton.
Show time!
“Samuel still remains convinced that James Kellspell has sold himself too cheap and to the wrong people.” I shake the printout in Kyle’s face as if I have a right to do so.
I got it late last night, the result of my incessant prying. I could barely wait until morning to get Mr. Kyle Merritt for this, see his face, and maybe make him pay for his choice of words.
I mean, I have been sharing a room with his man for over a month now. So many things we have discussed, I told him about all the violence I saw on the Arkchil Channel in terms of Jim’s past, and still he dares to maintain an opinion that I am full of shit.
“Did you make an unauthorized entry to my personal Arkchil channel to steal this information to confront me with it?” Kyle puts down the bottle of perfume and is looking at me with an open, serene smile.
I’d slap that smile off your face!!!
You know why the bottle of perfume? What a dumb prop! Get this, Kyle was told to spray perfume on the velvet curtains and wall coverings in Carlton’s Boudoir “to make it for more pleasing and calming environment” for Lord Henry Carlton. I mean, the Hammersmith Bridezilla… Sorry! What is a more polite way of describing him? Ok, The Disturbed Spirit Within.
It was Jim’s idea. I don’t know why I’m letting “my” ego mock it. There is nothing wrong with it per se. it’s just ridiculous.
“Yes.” I respond firmly. I literally stooped down to Jim’s old time spying methods to learn what Kyle has to say about all this. “I did make an unauthorised entry to your Personal Arkchil Channel.”
Now, the reason I could actually pull it off technically is because I simply used my unlimited access to Jim’s channel to see other channels.
Basically took his Master Key to all doors and opened Kyle’s personal door.
There is nothing right or decent about it. But it was very easy to do.
I was that desperate.
“Thank you for your honesty.” Kyle gives me a friendly nod and starts going through a pile of Hafnian’s clothes on the floor to do laundry.
That’s it. He proceeds to pick up a truly stinky pile of Jim’s teacher’s stuff and carries it out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the laundry room, where I can hear him banging the washing machine doors, and singing.
He had a perfect chance to confront me.
We could have had an epic fight over who said what, when and why. We could have hurled expletives and revealed all the grudges we ever had.
But Mr. Merritt picked up the laundry and walked away.
He does not care to respond to the urges of “his” ego to fight. He tuned out “his” dumb ego. That is why our dear friend Kyle is free to walk away from a fight. When you’re plugged to “your” ego, you have no choice but to do whatever it orders you to do. And, normally, it would order you to fight if you feel insulted, or if you know that someone had trespassed on “your” property.
This man? He has suffered enough from that ego of his, I guess. And he never listens to it anymore. He does not feel that he needs to defend anything at all, but his love for his mother. Well, no one would attack THAT.
I hate him. I hate his serenity.
I would love to join him. I just don’t know how.
Walks in Jim with Wolf Hafnian.
“And then I could not even look upon your face in my mind! I was told to “switch off”, my love! That was the hardest part of the loyalty training.” Jim stops in front of Hafnian and stares at him with his dark eyes of an Irishman.
It took two entities to create James Kellspell the way I see him here on Level 2. And Jim loves his body here. But it is not about the body. We are not to attach to anything that is an illusion.
“I have to check on Henry.” Hafnian says without opening his mouth.
I can hear his thought in Jim’s head via the channel.
The reason Wolf can’t speak is because he is DeVo-ing. He is losing capacity for human speech. So is Isaak Milgram.
The dinosaurs are not our past. They are our future.
This is what happens when you paint God out of the picture.
The isotropic surface of time will bounce whatever you put there. Put any thought other than God, and you’ve got yourself whatever you are currently facing. Don’t believe me. Just look out of the window. Yes, you. All of you.
I will be safely in Stelarius-on-the-Sea by the time my records will hit the isotropic surface of time. I made my choice.
Now, let me doubt it.
Kyle has not proven to be a very satisfying victim. He did not resist me, he did not become upset when he learned that I violated his privacy rights, and he expertly slipped right through my angry, deadly grip by simply going limp.
I failed to get one of the cronies.
So, I’m getting the big one, then.
“What is in the suitcases?” I confront James as soon as Hafnian disappears in the Royal Chamber to tend to Carlton.
Instead of an answer Jim takes my face in his hands and starts kissing me. I try to resist, but he is too passionate, pushy, aggressive and I find myself on the bed with my pants down and my face in the pillow.
“I know it sounds unwise and insane, my sweet Samuel!” Jim leans over and searches for my lips in hungry, sweeping motions. I know he will be kissing men to his last breath. This is how he likes it. “You come in the middle of the show, basically, and you see that this young gentleman named Henry Carlton demands of me to support his family to the tune of a hundred million dollars a year for a right to have sex with him. And you can’t help but wonder if this old pervert has completely lost his mind, because there’s got to be a more graceful whore, or, if nothing else, a cheaper ass.”
He hisses the last words into my face. Believe me, Jim can get very threatening without having to do very much, but he would never do this to me. I am always safe in his sure embrace.
He makes love to me.
But it is not satisfying.
“My research has revealed that you kept on calling Henry Carlton “Toby” across many a conversation, only two years ago.” I respond, not in tune with what he is doing to my ass, and not about to give up my right to investigative journalism.
James does not come. He is psychic, therefore, at the very least, in tune with you when he wants to be. He pulls out, traightens up my shirt and smoothes it out on my shoulders. He always makes sure you are allright after he screws the living daylights out of you.
“You know why you called him “Toby”?” I press on, trying not to get distracted by his inebriating attention. “Because you kept on forgetting his real name.”
James nods with a serious, but calm face.
I want him to explode. I need him to tell me that this is not true. I must hear him confirm that he loved Henry Carlton at least forever.
“Please continue.” Jim says instead.
And I don’t have a choice but to reveal all my “investigative journalism” techniques that involved scouring the records for everything they are worth to me, and involving questionable methods, like using his Master Key to break onto other people’s channels.
“Kyle told me this.” I’m going to spill all, yes. “He enabled an Article that revealed, or gave access, to the trace evidence of your brain activity above the transcripts of your recorded conversations. And it shows that only two years ago your mind cared so little about some fat cat from England named “Henry Carlton”, that you’d blank out for fifteen seconds or more every time you’d have to bring up his name.”
James leaves me sitting on the bed and lights up a cigarette. He glances to the entrance of Henry’s Chamber for the sign from Wolf Hafnian. His eyes are there, his ears are there, and his mind is probably embracing Henry’s body as we speak. The only thing that is here is Jim’s polite face and blank eyes.
A smoking mask. He emulates his teacher in many of his ways. I see this now. He lights a cigarette by covering the flame of the lighter with the palm of his hand, just like his venerated teacher. And he looks just like him, when he smokes.
But his inner understanding of my position makes it up for me.
“So, tell me, without insulting my intelligence, James, what is in the suitcases that Wolf brought? And how long has he been shooting you with a mind-altering drug that made you fall so deeply for a man so conceited and meretricious? Is it a plot to swindle you out of eight hundred million dollars? Or have I not seen drug-filled syringes in those suitcases? And am I barking up a wrong tree?”
“Samuel” Jim’s breath is all nicotine, and I don’t care. “The money is necessary, so that...”
“You do not owe me an explanation on how you want to spend your money...” I place my palm over his eternally hungry lips. “Just tell me why are you spending your money this way!!! It is driving me crazy!”
“The money is necessary so that I can pay for hundreds of sleeping dumbasses to bring them to Strobulus. Dr. Michael and I are pulling funds together.”
I nod. What did I expect to hear? That he was going to spend it at “Macy’s”?
“The drugs are necessary to get me in tune with those I can help awaken. But in order to be able to awaken them, you first need to be as deep as they are mentally, in as much pain as they are. Only then can you find and use the right words to bring them from the depths of their nightmares. I had to take drugs to get where Henry is. There was no other way to save him.”
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THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
(BEAUTIFUL PRISONER)
Chapter: 47 (+47)
Name:
“Let God between yourself and your temptation!
And you will be rewarded beyond your expectation!”
Jim, making up inspirational stuff as Prednizone is assaulting his brain with very powerful, hard to ignore hunger pains. As I’m watching his genuine struggle. Ashamed to admit that i’m actually enjoying the performance.
Goal: AMALGAMATION
Needed: UNITED SPIRIT
Present: DISJOINTED SHARDS
“Yes, sir, thank you. My name is Arzadellin, and it is not a joke. Troubleshoot my call via Arkchil Record, please. I was allowed one interview and I was given a list of approved TV stations. You are affiliated with Brennes Warm Corporation, right? Of course, keep up the good job of true journalism. U-huh, yes, only one interview.”
Jim is businesslike and composed, holding his hand on the black bridgeplate with a glowing emerald triangle on it (this is the “new thing”), but he is talking into the regular-color bridgeplate we all use, elevated in the air just below his left shoulder.
I came into our former TOGETHER bedroom to give Jim Lord Carlton’s folded laundry.
Now that I am with Kyle and Carlton was moved out, Jim shares the large bed with his non-stop smoking, beer drinking teacher. His teacher does not like to take showers, searches through Jim’s belongings and personal records any time of day or night, and they have sex even more often than James with Henry.
This place is turning into an animal den with Wolf’s stuff, clothing and backpacks all strewn about.
Carlton’s stuff was moved from the closet and into his new resplendent, but dark abode. Since I was accommodated with the closet I share with Kyle, I had no problem watching the immensely strong Wolf Hafnian drag in many a large suitcase and pile them up in Carlton’s former closet.
I know what these suitcases are.
These darned suitcases contain no clothing. This savage has no need for clothing.
These are full of syringes with a drug that is based on Hafnian’s pain-saturated blood. The drug is called “The Well Of Copenhagen”, or something like that.
James does refer to it multiple times in his records dated back to his “three year sentence” he spent with Wolf Hafnian for sexual assault on Hugh Michael.
One syringe like that, administered to James, would rack his mind on Wolf’s pain for 15 to 20 hours at a time. Hafnian would string Jim up in a waterfall of tears fully under his control so he could have access to Jim’s internal programming while Jim was mentally soft from constant sobbing.
I bet you did not know that it was part of his healing process. Neither did I. Kyle just brought this information in. He was told to do it, for my narration took a sinister, but an unjustified turn.
All that was stopped while Wolf was not with James. Now they will be at it again.
I understand the healing process and all this good stuff. But let me carry on with my conclusions.
Is Jim being used? Drugged up for Wolf’s clandestine purposes? But are they Wolf Hafnian’s purposes? Is this his agenda? Wolf’s IQ is 78 on the sunniest of days. Wouldn’t it be fair to suggest he is being instructed by someone else? Is it my business to stick my investigative journalism’s nose into that, too?
Plenty to be judgmental about, for sure.
But I think I’m getting it. James was FLYING with Henry, happiness in his every feature. Since his teacher showed up, he is FLYING AND SOMERSAULTING in the air with joy.
And I could have said “oh, look, our poor Prophet was given a werewolf for a friend.”
This aforementioned werewolf sits there in his spare time and does nothing but drink and lament that he is not “man enough” for James. Then he cries into the bottle.
He smokes a cigarette, relieves himself outside against the freshly trimmed hedge, and goes back for the second, third, fourth round of the same.
Until it is time to go feed their venerated Henry and give him a bath.
Anyway, see, what i’m trying to say? THE DYNAMICS OF THE FAMILY I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT.
A family five long years in the making. All prior to my arrival.
Will this statement stop me from the judgment, or have I not suffered enough?
So, when I came in, Hafnian was to his seventh bottle of beer, and James was on the horn with an Andromedan TV station.
And he was talking about money. A lot of money. He was trying to sell this one interview he could give.
I knew in my heart, it was because he built the “Boudoir” for his “Princess”, and now he probably had nothing left for his other obligations. Like Kyle’s mother.
Folding illusion rooms must have cost an arm and a leg, and Jim for sure asked for another advance from Moretr to accommodate Henry.
That’s why he was on the phone trying to turn an extra buck.
“I’ll be brief, sir.” Jim said in a pushy tone. “There has not been a calamity that has not hit my family this year. I am a full-time student in Estelian communications, I work full time for a corporation that belongs to Prince Moretr Sardonyx, I have a minor child, a special-needs spouse and three other dependents. A fourth one has arrived recently, my second spouse, and he has no way to earn a living in your country.”
Whatever the man on the other side of the line responded was trampled by Jim immediately.
“Excuse me, sir, you will let me finish describing my dire financial situation. Moreover, this year I myself was gravely ill with a debilitating lung condition that prevented me from taking the full advantage of the workload I could perform, had I not been sick. Try working, caring for your minor child AND your mentally disabled spouse when you have to breathe through a knife in your heart. In connection with a dire situation in my family I am asking for 23 million dollars for my interview...”
Wohoo! Really? 23 million for an interview? Did Henry teach you to pull a number out of your ass?
The man answers something I can’t hear at all, and Jim pulls away from the hovering bridgeplate. “I’m going to get the money, my love!” He whispers into my ear.
Feels like you have to humiliate yourself a lot for it. And I honestly would NOT have the balls to be having such a convo with a TV station. But Jim feels pressed against the wall.
And half an hour later he gets his interview, and the money that comes with it.
He sells it to Black Hexagon Of The United Wells Broadcasting.
I guess the disappointing part is that Jim will only get about 60 000 dollars of the 23 million he demanded.
You will never guess why. Not taxes :). He wanted the rest in “Kassiopeian currency”.
Andromeda Federation’s currency is too “industrial”.
Kassiopeian currency, on the other hand, Jim explained to me, is the closest money can get to a karmic credit (basically “God’s money” you get to your soul’s account for doing good deeds).
Yes, he said, we’re only going to get 60 grand. Hardly worth the effort. Six months of Kyle’s mother’s upkeep in the Grey Building. Big deal.
However, since it is “Kassiopeian”, it is like holding on to the same size ball, but much more density. With “Andromedan money”, or dollars, we can pay for stuff. But with “Kassiopeian money” we can pay for our happiness.
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THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
THE FILAMENT OF YOUR IMAGINATION
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter: 46 (+46)
Name:
“Let me relay the Revelation from above:
We are not flesh. We are The Covenant, my love!”
James to Lord Carlton, pretty much every day
Goal :
Needed:
Present:
“You know how hot the Emerald Filament gets?
No, I have no idea what you are talking about.
“Only the one who’s heart is in constant desire to sacrifice himself for the Love Of His Life can hold on to the Emerald Filament. If you waver from that state of mind if only for a moment...”
“The Filament will consume you?” I suggest, aghast, imagining a ball of green flames engulfing James.
“No!” James smiles and reaches out with his nose for mine to rub them together and reinforce our connection. “What a silly thing to say, my sweet mate. Not the Filament will consume you. “Your” ego will consume you, and the Grace of God that powers the Filament will become meaningless to you. Therefore not worth paying attention to. Forgotten. Replaced with more material, immediate needs. Next thing you know, you have become morally bankrupt, because you quit investing in love. The Greatest Commodity Of The Universe.”
Wow, that was profound.
Another scene comes to mind. Yesterday we went to a day trip into the woods with our whole family and the attending Arkabins to
As Jim was packing, he was about to put plastic round black object into a pocket of his backpack.
Watching him always, I asked.
“Oh, It’s Hugh’s moral compass.” Jim commented. “He slipped it into my pocket as I was escorted out of the courtroom on the sexual assault charges. “I know you lost yours decades ago.” He said.”
James tears up as he squeezes a small round device in his hand. “So, use mine. You will need it not to lose your way.”
Large tears drop on the cover of the compass as Jim flips it open.
The red arrow inside points to one word on top. It reads “HONOR” in big black letters.
Nw, days get mixed up in my mid. But, I think, he morning before the day trip we had to study together in the class for a “5 Minutes To Revelation” show.
James was in a good mood, and he talked about how fun it is going to be on Andromeda when we are finally captured by Leot’s Forces.
“Ohh Holy Prophet Arzadellin!” I teased Jim who was putting on black pants and a white shirt to look appealing to Henry.
Henry would not even be in the room. But he’d still be watching close-circuit bridgeplate, or whatever the terminology. Jim was all about that - man sure Henry will like his posh, formal attire.
Christopher would be showing it to Carlton, hidden in their new Royal Chambers.
James lovingly called the new sleeping arrangement “My Lord’s Boudoir”.
Basically, a heavily draped velvet and organza bedroom complete with his own bathroom, a meal table with fruit and silver and stuff on it and his own private entrance to the enlarged English Gardens.
Well, listen to the rest of it.
All this was fit between the back of our former large (threesome) bed AND THE THREE INCH PARTITION with the adjacent room.
Yeah, in the space of three feet at best! Behind and to the left of the bed where I slept with Jim for three months until Carlton arrived, and then listened to them fuck, grunt and sob for the next six months.
The bed is still there, but a former south-west corner (three feet away from the bed!) now opens into a few more rooms that would have taken two of the rooms the size where Kyle and me are now.
Would have, but did not, because FROM THE OUTSIDE three is no bulge indicating that extra rooms were built in. Nothing.
Point is, if it was a real Level 1 construction, they’d have to bust the wall between this bedroom and our room, evict us and make two of THAT into what is now Carlton’s solemn, dark and plentiful quarters.
But due to simple folding illusion all you see is the entrance into Carlton’s place where he dwells, and where Jim and Wolf Hafnian go to worship their man.
They come there with gifts, bribes, wads of cash for Carlton’s parents, and to have ax with him. Come back disheveled, sweaty, blissfully satisfied, but silent and solemn. Like monks just out of their religious service.
These are the changes since Jim’s teacher Wolf Hafnian has arrived and shortly after Carlton collapsed for three days.
Where was I going with this? Way to plan my chapters. But this is a dry run. A draft. I will have plenty of time to work on my final version while in Leot’s capivity. There will be plenty of schnitzel, time and quality sex, Jim says.
Oh, yeah. So I teased him about being The Prophet and all that jazz.
“Is that what you want to see?” I said. You do not want to go into a river if you do not know how to cross it, a wise Russian saying states. I have Russian roots, and a right to listen to the saying. Only I never listen :).
“No!” Jim shook his head and brushed his hair backwards a few more times before applying hairspray (God forbid Lord Carlton will notice one stray hair!) “That’s what THEY want to see! I’ll be a good boy, I’ll play along.”
“U-huh” I replied knowingly. Who DOESN’T WANT to be Jesus for a whole galaxy?
“What I want to see, my love.” Jim brought his face very close to mine and I could smell Lord Carlton’s heavy perfume on Jim’s breath (Hafnian and Jim often lick and kiss Carlton all over. I witnessed that in shock almost as soon as Hafnian arrived. They looked like two crazed dogs tripping all over themselves to get high on this neurotoxin-laced frog...)
I swallowed hard and took Jim’s lips into mine together with the smell of the man I find to be repulsive.
And it did not kill me.
“What I WANT TO SEE, Samuel, is you giving birth to my children.”
The Russian proverb, yeah. I thought I was poking him where it hurt. But his mind is nowhere near self-glorification.
He is looking at what gifts he can shake out of Leot for us if he is to lay 300 humans for him to swallow.
THAT shut me up for the rest of the week.
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THE OCEAN OF HIS GRACE
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter: 45 (+45)
Name: In The Throes Of Passion
“This thread of life can rip away and rot...
But Covenant will hold no matter what!”
James Kellspell comforts Lord Carlton, in tears, cringing in pain, ardently kissing his royal lover’s hands, as the door opens and Prince Moretr walks in.
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
“It is when you are alone with yourself, you are most vulnerable to the mechanical voice of the ego. Your chances of tasting bitterness at that moment are 100%.”
From Jim’s lecture that Prince Moretr has recorded early this morning for his “5 Minutes To Revelation” channel’s audience.
See, these recordings of the Prophet’s explanations have to be done now, because when Jim arrives to Andromeda as Arzadellin, he will be immediately taken prisoner by Leot’s Forces for the next hundred years. The public’s access to him and his crew will be cut off.
He will be treated fairly, and he will not suffer (Leot is much too smart not to look like a guerrilla in the face of the Intergalactic Community), but have no doubt that Jim is there for his Martyrdom.
He will eventually be put to the needle. Euthanized.
That is why everyone is envious of my James. Even Hugh. Especially Hugh. He wanted to be Jesus.
But knowing Jim, he will share with High whatever chance for the sweet sacrifice comes his way. He respects Hugh to pieces and is always tremendously grateful.
This just goes to show you what a bunch of sick fuckers we are.
“Oh, like blood the air still smells
Where you took me down at United Wells.”
That was Leot’s idea of damage control. He had to swallow the Pill Of Awakening himself in order to prevent his world from dissipating.
This is what Awakening is. It is SEEING THE FACE OF GOD. Well, it’s like seeing the face of your loving, caring parent after waking up from a really scary dream.
That’s it. This is all we resist. To wake up from a painful dream where we are alone, and have to deal with crap without God.
That’s why this channel is ONLY for those WO HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH.
And I HAVE suffered enough. It is REALLY hard to see a soul in pain behind the front Lord Carlton puts up, but we ARE going to put away our squabbles.
We have a job to do.
A galaxy to awaken.
This is the beginning of Book 4, people.
Three days ago it has begun.
Jim’s essential “piece” has finally arrived.
Our patience has paid off. It is all coming together now.
And I know, plenty more trials to come. But now we are an ounce stronger and a day older.
“Yes, Mads Dittmanovich! This is what I have been “doing”! And yes, I hardened and slipped a tad off your teachings, but it was mainly because I studied full time, worked full time, I have a minor child, and I had to take care of Henry while myself nursing a psychosis the size of a pollution cloud over Beijing!”
Hafnian Wolf stands in front of James with his head bowed. He reaches out to his pocket and pulls out a third cigarette in the last ten minutes.
“And, excuse me, no, you are not smoking “train-style” here any more. I have been sick as a dog with pleurisy for ten months... and what have YOU been doing? Fighting extradition back to Stone Age? Look at yourself! U-huh. So I see.”
Jim yells at Hafnian Wolf, having ripped a cigarette off his lips... and then searching for his lips.
They can’t stay away from each other as they are fighting like Lieutenant Uhura and Spock. Jim being Lieutenant Uhura, of course.
Another comparison for those who just joined us... Yelling at Hafnian Wolf is the same as giving a hard time to a large, hairy, very guilty looking dog.
“I would also like to ask you again about your commitment to Henry! I have obtained him for you. For us. But this spaceship is beginning to remind me of a makeshift war hospital. Me being the only nun to take care of more and more arriving wounded soldiers!”
James walks there and back by now seated Hafnian Wolf, waving his hand in the air to strengthen his point.
“While you were out for eight months, Henry arrived destitute, homeless, and very, very ill. It took me to topple Marble to pull him through, I am in debt up to my ears, and I expect you to pick up the slack in caring for him!”
“I have my utmost commitment for my Lord Henry Carlton.” Hafnian says via a level app. His bout of human speech ended the same day he arrived through a legal link (not like Mr. Milgram).
Two days ago Hafnian stepped off a legal link and I thought my poor Jim was going to have himself a heart attack.
“Good, my Silver Shadow.” Jim cools off a bit. Not everything that Hafnian Wolf told him about Henry had turned out to be true, so Kellspell had to address that. “What do you think of my new men’s dress? I see by your face that you do not like it.”
“You do not deserve it.” I hear a hoarse whisper on Jim’s private channel. This whisper is created based on Hafnian Wolf’s thoughts. The bridgeplate translates it into words that could be heard on the channel.
“You are correct, and thank you for keeping me humble. Consider it an advance from my new employer. This is an old dress of Lord Carlton’s servant. And the only suitor he ever had. It is very important for Henry’s mental recovery for me to wear it. Andrew was the only light in his dark and cruel lifelong confinement.”
“I am committed to the Most Excellent Lord Carlton. Have you forgotten how we started?”
“It’s been six months of Henry, teacher of mine.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 44 (+44)
Name: { God Is } The Button That Turns Off Everything That Does Not Exist
Dobravshis do NEGO,
I razognav nenastia
Ne grohnutsa bi v obmorok ot shchastia!
James Kellspell,
about his most beloved
Lord Carlton
GOAL:
NEEDED:
PRESENT:
Ok, here we go. I finally gathered balls to request THIS from the Arkchil Records.
I had to base my request on some kind of a law. I brought up Fall Memorandum Clause Of Chronicler’s Right To Information.
Genius of me, eh?
Now, a bit of the background for those who just joined our channel...
For about 7 months PRIOR to today, I would kill to get to the record of that fateful day (there are a few of such “deciding” days when Jim’s fate was sealed, and a turn was made DUE TO the event) and killing would not have helped a thing.
But then I figured it out!
You know why I suddenly became so smart?
Because Kyle told me how to do it!
Thank you, Kyle, yeah. The man did not stop at cleaning Lord Carlton’s bathroom. The man is studying to become an intergalactic lawyer. He REALLY wants his mother’s living conditions upgraded. Whatever works. Just goes to show you that love is a far more powerful motivating force than fear.
Ok, this is what my Request brought.
“Request the transcripts of the conversation James and Lord Carlton had that night in the Grey Building five years ago. Date: {undisclosed: Kriagir Yaseremshan Dorilin Tisaver}
Kyle also showed me how to turn the bridgeplate into a semblance of a computer screen.
So, onscreen! Here we go.
“Prisoner 076: “There will be conditions”
JKellspell: if I fulfill your conditions, will you let me be by your side?
Prisoner 076: Yes.
JKellpsell: Please state your conditions.
(SIGIL / expressed on my screen as gap of static that lasted for over half and hour... man, Carlton must have given Jim a lot of conditions!)”
Kyle said it was ok to hit a SIGIL within a record. As long as you got to the record. There are a lot of levels of security, and it is going to take us a while to uncover EVERYTHING.
“JKellspell: Done. May I approach you now?
Prisoner 076: Yes, to my right, on your knees.
JKellspell (This one I see as an offline comment of James to himself: “I just gained ten pounds, and all of it is in my dick”)
Prisoner 076: You are incredibly large in terms of power output. Why are you surrendering to me? What is your ulterior motive?”
(and here, by God, I recognize Carlton’s typical suspicious attitude)
“JKellspell: I have my reasons, sir. Please stick to the Covenant.
Prisoner 076: Whatever you say. It is your money.
JKellspell: I am locked in to YOU as my next Destination Point now. However, I have to go for three years for my crimes before I am allowed to proceed on getting you out.
Prisoner 076: Expect no compassion from me.
JKellspell: They wanted to give me ten, but Hugh interfered. He had a right, as a victim.”
This is where Kyle and I exchanged glances. This is the reference that corrected Jim’s mental descent into darkness of agreeing with the ego-protocol. An innocent and a noble man he assaulted had helped him through the punishment everyone believed Jim deserved.
“Prisoner 076: I committed no crime. I’m here for life. And NO ONE interceded on MY behalf. I also have no reason to believe that you will ever make it back.”
Oh, yeah. Here I totally see Carlton’s self-centered attitude/imbalance. I don’t care what the handle says, I RECOGNIZE Carlton’s pervasive, toxic mentality.
“JKellspell: I am immortal and I will never stop trying.
Prisoner 076: See you in three years. Good luck.I’ll be here.”
END OF TAPE.
It ends with a determined James, and an emotionless Lord Carlton.
Which, like, totally fits the profile.
After this there were two hours worth of sobbing. James went offline and cried. Or, rather, he cried a lot longer, but I could only take two hours of listening to it for additional information of mumbling between sighs and moans.
But the only things he was saying while crying were that his whole heart and soul “are filled with you”, and “I will earn your trust”. And “please give me a chance”.
He probably wept all night and was taken in the morning, for the next record starts at Stelarius-on-the-Sea, with Melekh filling Jim with the information.
It was the absence of that information that damaged Jim’s thinking, creating a void, into which he had accepted the advise of the machine of how to take what he wanted without having to pay for it (one-way protocol of the machine).
Then I had to make an effort to pull out of the record. It was like quicksand. Every now and then in between the transcripts I could see the visions of Jim weeping endlessly in his then cell in the Grey Building, one level above the ground floor cell occupied by Henry Carlton.
Then Kyle was done cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, served to Lord Carlton alone (I still can’t get over this crap, that we all have to eat in the kitchen, separately!), and he suggested to enter another Article, this time from Fall Memorandum, and see what would it uncover.
It uncovered a footage of Jim performing a speech in front of a medium-size crowd of seemingly Russian origin. However, Kyle warned me, that could have been a rebroadcasted echo. There are no dates on Arkchil Records.
Even Tauri The Sheiredi has to struggle with the idea of not knowing what you are looking at. Let alone us.
“Do not let the machine choose your path. The machine has no competence to be able to do that.”
The large crowd at his feet stirred.
“You will never be happy for as long as you listen to the advise of the machine. For you never programmed that machine correctly. The machine is missing the only answer that will make you happy, and also, great. This answer is “God”. It will keep on forcing you to look elsewhere for answers. What if studying this subject will make me happy? How about this hobby? Oh, and the staple in the horse’s stable: A lot of money (smells like THE ULTIMATE FREEDOM, eh?).
All in all, love, for sure, is one thing that keeps on getting lost on your “bucket list of happiness” She is too complicated, this Lady Love. It is rewarding, but it wants sacrifice. “Your” ego does not like to sacrifice anything. Because this is not how you programmed it.”
I could see individual faces in the crowd, and each of them reflected the desire to understand, as much as the desperation of knowing that their chances of arriving to these proclaimed truths in this century are probably zero.
“For as long as you will keep feeding the the machine the answers that you THINK will make you happy with stuff OTHER THAN GOD, you will remain spiritually stagnant, locked in a bubble and and forced to run in circles. Your life will be temporal, and your happiness - fleeting.”
James rules the crowd with utmost passion. He revels in owning their minds at this particular fleeting moment of his own “happiness”. For this is what “his” ego wanted. To be the godlike leader that will save the souls of millions by showing them the rift way out of darkness.
In his ardor he even raised his hand like a monument of Lenin.
All great stuff, but I have seen this before, with James making comments on how and where this dream of his is nothing more than a variation of a dictatorship situation.
Talking about being stuck in an illusion. He has the balls to tell Isaak to get out of the “Raskolnikov” persona. Pot calling kettle black.
You know why I know for sure the man is full of shit with his speeches? Because JIM HIMSELF is aware of it. He does not want to be flushed down the toilet of another incarnation as an all-merciful king. But the pull of a desire to play God is very strong within him. One reason why he knew he had to turn himself in.
With full compassion towards Jim’s serious mental condition, Hafnian Wolf used to call him “The Galadriel that swallowed the ring”.
Nevertheless, Kyle and I carry on watching.
“And the next time you scream in desperation “Where is God?!” I will answer you: He is still where you left Him when you REPLACED him with all that surrounds you now. Break away from your meaningless, painful reality and go back in your mind to the last day you remember talking to Him. He is waiting for you to do exactly that.”
Now, the last bit was only added AFTER Jim turned himself in, and a painful process of surgically removing the Ring was begun.
Jim went on about going away from the machine and towards God a lot longer than I could hold on to the image.
There is a way to hold on to it, and Kyle is working out these details. He appears to have a natural ability to work the bridgeplate, which is nothing like a computer.
The next one came up, and those were his childhood memories. Bad ones. He killed a few animals with his bare hands before he was five. Yeah, I know.
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Sent to Sherzahd NKS21
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 43 (+43)
Name: Our uplink to The Original Source is suppressed and forgotten.
When there is too much conflict within -
Turn yourself in, turn yourself in.
When you feel worms crawling under your skin -
Turn yourself in, turn yourself in.
Give me your hatred, and your disdain -
Enter The Age Of No Pain!
Misty Shield
“The Age Of No Pain”
Goal: Remember the times when it was not.
Needed: UNITY
Present: All of us, but torn. We must grow together somehow. We MUST AMALGAMATE. Back into our Original Unity before Separation...
Here is a splendid convo I had with Isaak this morning. I should not have. The man’s brain has been fried. That’s what Jim told me later. But i should have been warned that our new arrival is not all there.
“Yeah, u-huh, tell me more about your “wonderful James”. He ran around enough...” Isaak said slowly, looking down, as if the words were laying on the ground, and he needed to pick up the right ones to make a sentence. “And now your “holy prophet”... has got leprosy as a punishment from God... for his homosexual agenda.”
I came out to smoke (someone has to, now that Jim is not on duty for that), and tried to strike a conversation with Isaak, who was raking Mr. Rubinstein’s gravel in our backyard that he disturbed falling out of the sky.
WHAT? Did he just say that, or am I tripping?!
“Mr. Milgram, I’m sorry, I can’t believe what I’m hearing? Would you take this offensive comment back?”
Silence.
Scratch-scratch with his rake across the path. Looking down so intently. This large burly man with a very Russian face and apparently appalling mentality is still looking for words in the pile of gravel, and not finding any.
I take another pull of Jim’s strong red Marlboros for chemical reinforcement.
“Mr. Milgram, have you hit your head one too many times in Calabases?”
Scratch-scratch the ground. He moves to rake out the gravel that landed in the flower bed around a cherry tree. I’m glad he did not take out THAT while falling. Mr. Rubinstein has been eating these cherries for four years now, every summer, and he swears by them.
But in order to fall HERE, albeit from the sky, your internal frequencies have to be aligned enough with this place. In other words Ar-Snap technology is based on you knowing where you are going and wanting to accept the rules of that place.
Only then can you clearly see what a silly illusion the speed of light is. It is nothing in comparison with the Speed Of Love.
But how the heck did Milgram align the frequencies to break through a membrane after having failed the test to be moved here legally?
“Has Lord Carlton been slapping you with a neurotoxin-laced frog? Did you vote for Donald Trump?”
I know I am on the offensive, and I should not be attacking this poor, broken, sullen man dressed in some gray overalls after his own clothing was too damaged to give it back to him (we were still told to wash it).
But I’m so insulted that I can’t stop. Meaning, i dance to the evil tune of the machine within... Right, let it guide me on how to get everyone hurt. What a smart man I am for giving in to that urge.
“God punished James Kellspell for his “homosexual agenda”, Mr. Milgram?! Are you allergic to shellfish? Have you been bitten by a wasp and experiencing the anaphylactic shock expressed in ultra-right political views?”
I think I threw enough barbs to get him to redeem himself now, but Isaak does not even raise his head. He seems to be sniffing the air.
Must still be looking for words in this cool white gravel. The man’s DeVo is clearly showing.
The progressed form eventually forces you to abandon speech and other things that make you human, and instead rely on primal senses that have very little to do with detecting and processing spirituality.
Like a sense of smell or taste - whatever ties you to the chemical protocols inside your physical body. These are the chains of an animal. They will drag you to pleasures other than the pure spirit.
This is where your descent into darkness becomes inevitable. When you forget how to breathe light.
“... God punished James Kellspell for his agenda... and for... sexually assaulting... my friend.” Milgram finally adds all but to himself. “This is what your James is. He is a loose homosexual predator... with an avid penis... and zero consciousness... Don’t tell me how noble and kind he is... He deserves his illness, your James.”
I stand there, blinking, aghast.
Yes, I tried to get him to keep driving, but I had no idea he was going to go all Thelma & Louise on me.
There is no bloody way Jim’s supposed friend and my fellow Jew would say all this.
So I finished smoking and beat feet, hurt and needing the explanations.
And yes, there was a bit of truth in the sexual assault accusations. But there was something incredibly dark and sinister in the way these facts were twisted and framed into a completely different logic.
Kellspell is studying in the classroom by Carlton’s feet. I went to the kitchen and cut them some fresh apples to use as a pretext to get in.
It got me through the door, but Carlton, tense and straight as always, gave me a clear indication that my further lingering will not be tolerated.
“Jim, do you have leprosy?” I ask carefully, putting the plate with apples on the desk by Carlton.
Let’s see if I can last long enough to unload all the burning coals Isaak stuffed me with before the overprivileged Angorran will hiss at me from the height of his position.
The latter is playing with his bridge plate and raises incredulous eyes at me, mouthing the word “leprosy” with a facial expression of “are you completely off your rocker?”
It’s not me, you see. It’s Mr. Milgram. But what do you care? ALL OF US are just “staff” to you.
“What? Fuck no!” Jim responds indignantly. “I have PLEURISY”! Leprosy is a tropical disease, actually very hard to get. Why?”
“Tell me more about beryllium!” Carlton snaps his fingers at James, as if it is a crime in itself for him to be talking to servants.
Like me. The staff is here to serve, and the staff needs to bow out, and back out of the room with their eyes down when the service is complete.
Ok, well, at least I can see Carlton doing some good. He is not just hanging around James anymore, distracting him with nose bleeds and jealous drama. He actually helps him study.
“1.85 density of water, almost transparent to x-rays.” Jim responds quickly.
“Is leprosy bad, James?” I ask again and realize that Carlton’s patience is running thin with me. Even despite the offering of fruit. He is on edge, because he was interrupted, and he longs to get back to being alone with Jim.
Watch James, copy James, drink the exhilarating mix of his character.
Don’t we all want that.
However, HE also wants to control James, to push James around, to berate and humiliate James, the man I want to cherish. And to physically hurt him to top it off.
“No. It’s just a bacterial infection. A few months on antibiotics and you are fine. Planning to go to India?” James runs his finger up and down the edge of his bridgeplate and dictates more information into it. “What brought that on?”
“Do you have a homosexual agenda?” I counter with another inquiry, and know that it is the last thing you want to ask in front of Carlton.
This WILL get me thrown out.
“Well, that’s a loaded question!” James laughs.
“Samuel!” Henry frowns and burns through me with his classic “what is your problem” stare.
Just like was predicted. This one will poison you with disdain and make you crawl all the way back into your shell. And don’t you dare complaining, for you brought it upon yourself.
“You seem uneasy, my love!” Jim to the rescue, now holding my face in his palms, kissing my lips.
Carlton has no right to break us up at this tender moment. I’m not just his “staff”!
I am married to Jim through the Covenant. And we both have a right to confirm our vows any time, any way we find necessary.
“I talked to Isaak... He told me all that. He also brought up your sexual assault on Hugh. I think he nurses a bad grudge against you...” I sigh and catch Carlton’s icy glance.
He is done tolerating my insolence.
He is not interested in anything I have to say.
His demeanour promises me nothing good if I do not vacate the premises immediately.
“Oh, I get it! That’s what it is!” Jim smiles and releases me. “Isaak Lvovich is very disturbed. He has no idea what he is saying. He is suffering a progressed case of DeVo, because he fried his brain in the life-long delusional ego-chase. He believes that he is Raskolnikov from “Crime And Punishment”. I am seeing his mind as we sit here. He needs psychiatric help. Turning himself in was the best thing for him. We might just want to leave him alone until he heals a bit under the supervision here.”
“Allright, enough of that.” Carlton cuts Jim off. “Samuel, go find Mr. Merritt and help him get all of these Miller moths out. Especially from my bedroom.”
“But Lord Carlton, I was not done talking to James...” I lower my eyes and hate myself for bending to the man.
“If I find one in my clothing, or in my bed, I will make you eat it.” Carlton points to the door, and I leave like a beaten dog.
Should have stood up to him.
“Let’s continue.” I hear Carlton address James behind my back. “Curium and Samarium. What can you tell me about those? And also please refresh me on the details of the night when you thought it was a good idea to break into a guy’s apartment and kiss him while he was sleeping peacefully with his wife, and his children slept in another room.”
“Oh...” James grunts quietly as I close the door behind myself, but can still hear his hoarse whisper in the hall. “ I know, my most splendid Lord... I was high on drugs and lonely... I tracked Hugh down and I... ahem. It was as easy to get in as it is very embarrassing to recall.”
After Jim had turned himself in to Melekh, tormented by guilt, he’d tell this story to anyone who’d listen. But he could not change the past.
In other words, as per Jim’s former logic, if a woman gets raped in her own house, it is her fault, because her doors were no match for a suspect’s lock-picking skills.
“Rocket, why did you steal those batteries?”
“Because they were really easy to steal.”
“Guardians of the Galaxy”. Splendid dialogue.
Blame those who did not secure them batteries. More on that later.
I must follow through on Carlton’s orders now. Is it a time and a place to mention that I have lived alone my whole life and I’m not used to take orders from anyone? Especially in such an entitled, de-humanizing tone.
But, I must do it for my James. If I love him the way I say I do. So, chop-chop, old Samuel. Words are cheap. Everyone wants to see action.
Sure enough, Kyle is in our bedroom looking for those stupid moths on the walls, to throw a folded t-shirt at them. Jim showed us this trick a while ago. This technique works better on spiders, for they have no wings and get bound by the t-shirt’s gravity.
A disturbed winged critter flies away off the t-shirt’s surface about 50% of the time before your capturing device reaches the floor. But the other 50% of the time Kyle is able to grab the bewildered moth off the t-shirt, or shake the t-shirt out through the door.
The moths are harmless, but there are a lot of them. I personally don’t care where they end up. It is indeed their season, the first month of summer.
And how funny that the seasons with all of their peculiarities are reflected so precisely for us on this space ship. You can’t say that the Sheiredis have not approached the issue creatively. The illusion is complete with the darned large fuzzy moths Carlton is all freaked out about.
Kyle has been diligently at it in OUR bedroom when I went to smoke and talk to Isaak.
“You can just catch the easy ones, those that are beating against the windows, and i will handle those on walls and the ceiling.” Kyle directs me. “We better be done by the time Lord Carlton wishes to go to bed.”
“Lord Carlton threatened that if we miss just one, he will make me eat it.” I respond and look for a way out of Pit of Self Pity.
It hurts me so that someone would think that they have a right to treat another human being with such blatant disrespect. I mean, he would not let me say a word, and he ordered me back to work like I was his hired help.
“Oh, is that what happened to that girl in “Silence of the Lambs”?” Kyle smiles and shakes another moth out of the towel.
Ha-ha. Remember the scene when they pulled out a moth out of that dead girl’s throat? Hilarious comparison. Must be because she had failed to follow Lord Carlton’s orders to remove all the moths from his bedroom. Kyle is revealing a cute, sharp sense of humor.
Ok, let me catch three more to the left and pull the curtain just in case Mr. Milgram decides to trim more shrubs in this late hour. Care not talk to him.
I don’t even care to see him. At least for now.
I’m not going to interact with Isaak anymore. Apparently he is completely inadequate.
“Homosexual agenda”? What the fuck us “homosexual agenda”?!
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 42 (+42)
Name: The Machine Forces Us To Fire Incorrectly (This would hurt Father)
“Don’t see it as punishment! See it as Compassion Training.”
Kyle Merritt
(a.k.a. “Wise Kyle”,
about Jim’s multiple medical issues)
Goal: To redefine “power-greedy” and “despotic”. Look up for any possible positive connotations of “superiority complex”.
Needed: A bottle of whiskey and a blindfold.
Present: Lord Carlton with the riding crop and James Kellspell with his pants down on the dining table. God help us, Kyle and I are sleeping together tonight. Again.
From Jim’s personal records:
“Points to be discussed with Doc Anderson:
How was your surgery?
What is HYDROCO/APAP - Opioid?
My lower left tooth is killing me.
Root canal infection?
Will the antibiotics clash with Prednisone and the opioid?
Front bridge - decay under cap?
(I WILL get second opinion w/ Dane Griggs)
Last but not the least. Pray for Donald.
Innerobus.”
Donald, I understand. We will be dealing with him eventually. I think Lord Carlton is the most ready of us. Ahem, it’s not HIS President, yeah.
H.M. is still blissfully not knowing we’ll be sharing this place with, oh, Donald. I’m going to be milquetoast about it.
Kyle does not care who else Jim was told to pick up, as long as we pick up his mother.
Mr. Rubinstein is all-forgiving.
Isaak is in too much pain to care about extra-curriculum activities... But what is “Innerobus”?
So, it’s been 4 days on PREDNIZONE (2 pills, 20 mg each) for my long-suffering James.
Lord Carlton is extremely self-centered, so he never asked Jim, or anyone for that matter, how his partner was doing.
What I see is Jim was given 2 pills of Prednizone short of 5 days. All it took for the excruciating pain in his chest to come back is take only 1 pill of 20 mg today, instead of 2 (40 mg).
Within two hours he started struggling to breathe, and I gave him HYDROCO/APAP 5-325 mg. It’s a mix of an opioid and acetaminophen.
We try not to go there. But we had no choice.
I’m envisioning at least 2 more weeks on Prednizone, if not more.
I’m envisioning Jim dealing with Prednizone’s toughest side effect - incredible hunger.
I’m envisioning Jim trying to cut down on smoking RW (blue ksill), for only three times a day now, to keep his lungs as clean as it gets (not enough THC for clear thinking, must make room for at least half an edible in these circumstances).
I’m remembering the fact that Jim had pleurisy for over 10 months now, running undiagnosed and untreated, blossoming into a nearly-debilitating condition.
I am submitting this report directly to Melekh, and by God (no pun intended! :), I will not be silenced and ignored anymore.
I am saddened that it had to come to that, i’m still looking for answers as to why this happened, and... I’m going to cry myself to sleep now, for I can feel him struggling for his every breath as he rubs his lips across Lord Carlton’s shoulder, nodding at all the instructions Carlton gives him on how to please his royal body in the best of ways.
And I also would like to know why Jim has to become a cripple at 46? Yes, I understand what he tells me every day: “I worked at the Cancer Center of the Children’s Hospital in Denver, you should have seen all those dying 13 year olds who did not get to live their lives, Samuel... At least I got to go after SOME items on my bucket list, blah-blah-blah, and I had 46 years to topple that bucket over my head many times over...”
I heard this rap a hundred times in the last 7 months as Jim was getting progressively sicker, and still did not know what was going on with him until he ended up in the ER, struggling not to suffocate.
He says that, but he is bitter within. And who would not be?
But not right now, you see. High on opioids, he forgot all about his pain, that will be back by morning.
Right now he is sliding down, kissing Carlton’s hip, whispering “oh my most noble, most dazzling Lord, how may I please my Lord...”
And Carlton mumbles something about “you worthless, unbearable, dirty savage”, but he is, in fact, on Cloud 9 with exhilaration. He is being worshipped by the best man on Earth, as far as I am concerned.
“You will make me the most powerful of them all!” Carlton growls and smacks Jim’s head when Jim attempts to give him a blowjob. He is not comfortable with ANY homosexual acts, yet, he is incapable of resisting his nature.
He just needs more warm-up before he can relax enough for a blowjob.
Meanwhile his rushed, overworked brain dwells on having this good ol’ convo with the mirror.
“Mirror-mirror on the wall (ahem, James at my feet), who is the most beautiful and the smartest of them all?”
I know it’s not me, but I have a love-struck fool here who has the know-hows of gold. He will write my lines and he will make me look like the smartest one out there. Let me whip him into submission a bit more.”
No, I’m no longer jealous. Kyle, the Wise Kyle, gave me a perspective.
This perspective makes me cry, but it’s logic is fucking undeniable.
“You know, three decades ago I was just like you, Samuel.” He reminisced the other day as he was folding the laundry, paying special attention to matching Lord Carlton’s socks most correctly. “I was smitten by Jim Kellspell, wanted a family with him. Who knows how my life would have been if I was not shown the door.”
I frowned here, for Jim has always maintained that he and Kyle “just grew apart”. I believed him until Kyle showed up, still torn over the breakup he believed was initiated by Jim.
“And then Jim was with you, and everything seemed to be fine.” Kyle moved on to Carlton’s shirts, while the rest of our laundry still laid in a crumpled heap. “You DID start a family with him... Until he learned that he won the auction and his most precious gift was now his and solely his.”
I nodded, thinking he was done. I needed for him to be done. I knew where he was going and I longed for a bottle of Mr. Rubinstein’s Canadian whiskey.
Yeah, the most painful stabbing was still to come.
“Then YOU were shown the door.” Kyle added quietly. “So, tell me, why? If Jim wanted a partner who would cherish and respect him for the genius that he was, he could have stayed with me. Or you. In fact, I do believe that Mr. Rubinstein would have been the perfect partner slash teacher for Jim, better than you and I could ever muster. Yet, all three of us found ourselves on the bleachers.”
I sigh deeply as I remember this conversation with Kyle. Jim was out on opioids, laying in bed face down on Carlton’s side, as he needed to smell his Henry even as he was unconscious.
And since Jim is Carlton’s most favorite toy, the noble arse could not apply himself to anything besides trying to wake Jim up to harass him.
So he was taken for a jog in the woods by one of the massive Arkabins.
“Who is a shoo-in? Why, The Hammersmith Aristocrat, the relic of times long gone. The man who lifts his riding crop to punish his servant, and he is not acting. He is not pretending. And he is not trying to please James, or play along. James is much too smart for this kind of pretense. He sees right through hesitation, he smells unease. This is what he sensed in me, and this is what he smelled on you. That is why you and I are here for James, desperately hoping to be noticed, so that we could offer him respect and consolation. But even as he is sick and on drugs, he does not ask for any of this. All he ever whispers is Henry’s name.”
I could no longer take it, and went through the pockets of Jim’s pants on the chair to look for his cigarettes.
I pulled one out and went outside to smoke it.
“There is a holy connection between a henchman and his victim. Between a sadist and a masochist.” Kyle carried on with his thought, quiet and looking down at what he was currently folding: Lord Carlton’s briefs.
Then he was silent to let the point sink in.
I smoked and strained my eyes and ears, searching the woods for the returning party. I always have to brace myself for Carlton’s imposing appearance.
I have to be prepared for his Grand Entrance.
His eyes are deep, piercing blue, and it SHOULD make him beautiful, but instead it adds to his cold, calculating, predatory, hawkish nature.
He spreads suspicion, he exudes disdain and contempt, he watches you for the smallest of imperfections and mistakes to call you out on them. And then he looks for ways to squeeze you out of grace, basically.
Jim’s “Most Precious Gift” he had paid eight hundred million dollars for.
I need those opioids, I need all the booze I can round up and I need Isaak to hit me with a 2x4 over my head.
I would not want Lord Carlton if he was the last man left standing. Let alone paying a dime for him.
Heaven hear me, there is not a single redeeming quality to this terrifying guy.
“Don’t go there anymore, Kyle, please...” I begged, now looking through Jim’s medication, and wondering how many months will he have to be on all that to get better. And would Carlton ever care to ask a single question about how “his toy” was doing...
He’d probably try to look up the word “compassion” in Webster, read it five times over and never get the meaning.
“How else are we both going to get there if not by going, Samuel?” Kyle is right, I know. “You spent 3 months alone with Jim before he left you for Henry without hesitation. Now you’ve been moping about it for 6 months. I was with Jim for a year before he left me. You are still in a lot of emotional pain, while I had three decades to compartmentalize, and think about it. I’m sorry, Samuel, but there is a difference between a lady riding her horse in the afternoon lull and a rodeo cowboy.”
“What’s your point?”
“Jim is a horse that needs a rough cowboy who knows how to own that horse. He is bored when he has to deal with a damsel.”
“U-huh...” I’m still not there. Must be the offense “my” ego really does not care to hear.
“WE are the “damsel”, Samuel.”
Now with Carlton’s laundry finished, Kyle gave a perfunctory inspection to the rest of the pile, pulling out Isaak’s torn garments. The shirt in which he landed in our backyard still had blood spots that did not wash out.
It was also torn beyond redemption, but we were not authorized to throw it away. Poor Isaak has suffered enough already. I would not deprive him of the comfort of his own clothing.
“In other words, Samuel, Lord Carlton is a natural-born sadist with a DEEP NEED to humiliate and deliver his judgement in the harshest way he knows how. To him it is not a game, but a VITAL NECESSITY. A trait neither if us possesses, my friend.”
“But why does OUR JIM need to be on the business end of this man’s twisted nature and his unjustified, misdirected wrath?!” I finally explode loudly, and cast a fearful glance at the sleeping James.
He does not wake up. But mind you, he IS following our conversation wherever he is now. He is also following Henry, wherever Henry is now. Unseen and unheard, he wraps Henry in his presence always, making sure his Most Beloved is safe.
He also makes sure that all of Henry’s needs are met. And he will work till his last breath (and through his last breath) to make Henry Carlton the greatest even as his condition is ravaging his lungs.
“Because “our Jim” is one of those people who gets off only when treated this way.” Kyle sighs, resigned to the truth he had discovered while agonizing over why he was dumped by Jim.
It is a good thing that we now share a channel, because I have had the opportunity to compare how Jim felt for me, and what an inferno of passion he had become after he learned that Lord Carlton was here to stay.
He was finally allowed to jump into the Carlton River after years of training and preparation, after years of planning and plotting with his teacher. After years of sniffing Carlton’s scarf that his teacher stole from his master to her high on, for himself and James.
Or, maybe, Hafnian Wolf did not “steal” that scarf. Knowing now what I know through my independent investigation, Carlton was the one who plotted the capture of James Kellspell and his developments, and handed the scarf to his half-wit of a servant to bait Kellspell. He may have been a half-wit, but he was fully on board about reeling Kellspell in.
Now I see how Carlton made it look like it was James who was after him.
But Carlton worked tirelessly this whole time. He beefed up his resume to look bigger and more charitable than he was in Jim’s eyes. He rigged the auction so that he’d be sold to Kellspell, and no one else.
And unconfirmed, but persistent rumor in the General Information Field membranes states that Carlton married James in the “prison courtyard” with moon as the only witness besides Melekh...
That was the night Jim showed up at Carlton’s cell five years ago.
Then his memory on that was blocked.
So, according to those sources the deal was sealed before James became aware that he was being hunted.
Then, after all these underhanded actions, Carlton had the nerve to make Jim listen to “Gotta Leave” by Back Door Slam and accuse him of lying.
I see it as another way to manipulate the unwitting James.
Oh, and then he made Jim AND his wife kneel in front of him so he could berate and slap them both, forcing Jim to learn from an already experienced member of his support team on how to worship and submit to the Lord’s liking.
The last one was the most excruciating for me. Jim was there as he had “parked his body” here, and went to Carlton’s home on Level 1, to meet Sofia, and do what Hammersmith Aristocrat made him do.
As his body laid on the bed, i sat by his side, holding his hot hands, and watching everything Jim was involved in with Carlton.
Normally, Jim’s body gets very cold when he abandons it to go places, but not the time when he was summoned to the lesson of proper worship of Lord Carlton and by Lord Carlton at Carlton’s house in London.
Jim was rock-hard and Old Faithful hot. Probably would have shot his load just as high if Carlton had only allowed that.
So, yeah, why have I brought this up? To show how unhappy MY JAMES is at the hands of a no-holds-barred madman?
... or to drive myself mad by illustrating Kyle’s point everywhere I look?
Two hours later, and I’m weeping over Jim’s fate.
Two hours that Jim had spent fucking the living daylights out of his “Most Precious Gift”.
Two hours that the Hammersmith “not homosexual” Aristocrat spent drooling blissfully into the sheets while being fucked by James.
I’m so lost. I’m in such need of reinforcement of my trust in God. And I must have hope that James will conquer his illness.
Surely, he is no good to us dead.
How long is his condition going to last?
How much more painful can it get?
Have the doctors downplayed his state, or overlooked a deeper problem?
How (and when?) do I talk to Melekh about this?!
Kyle is already in bed. He has another early riser tomorrow, for Lord Carlton ordered breakfast at 7 am. It means Kyle needs to get up at 5 am to make it.
And then clean and prepare the Grand Dining Room for his employer to do a white glove inspection. Don’t forget the eggs and the rest of the jazz cooked EXACTLY as he was ordered.
Kyle was excited about it before he went to bed. He went to the kitchen to make sure he was all ready for tomorrow.
Isaak has found his second wind, and he spent the whole time he was here since Sat, 6th of NK trimming Lord Carlton’s hedges and standing with his head bowed as Carlton yelled at him for whatever imperfections that were discovered.
Isaak is a large guy now. But Carlton is bigger still, he towers over him, too.
I had no idea Isaak would even attempt to have this much humility, and let this imposing screwed-up Brit push him around. He really must have suffered enough, and is ready to clean up his karma any way he is told to.
Mr. Rubinstein supports Lord Carlton in everything and instructs him on how to handle Jim when Jim’s fears and paranoia send him into a “fainting goat” mode, thus rendering him deaf to Carlton’s orders.
And everyone is “getting the message”, and is gainfully employed at the court of the high-handed, patronizing, self-important Lord Carlton, Jr.
Honestly, I seem to be the only one not inspired by the Hammersmith Bride and the only one allergic to his accent.
Granted, Jim does not always understand Lord Carlton because of his thick British accent.
But Jim is highly psychic for one, and he is very attuned to Henry’s desires. That makes up for things lost in translation.
Everyone is happy, and drooling into the pillow.
I am the only miserable one.
Because I think Jim is going to die from his condition.
His death will be slow and painful, and I will never be able to find a rhyme or reason to such a great life with such a deplorable end, which he himself predicted and feared ten months ago.
There is no way he was right, for he was relying on “his” ego. The instinct that was telling him that he was not healthy.
The ego is not supposed to be right. Because it does not know God. It’s like only knowing the night, and not the day.
Yet, it was right to predict that Jim would be forced to quit smoking and face cold turkey sobriety amidst excruciating pain and depression that it brings.
I can find no consolation, for this is exactly what happened.
2 am. I must fall asleep now, because I will be dragged into serving Carlton tomorrow, and I better wake up as early as Kyle to help him set up.
I just can’t stop whispering into this bridgeplate here.
For I remember that last fall, every time Jim would fold over in a bout of cough, and fall apart, torn by fear for his health, Melekh would say: “Relax and let Me do miracles for you.”
This is the toughest test of my faith that I have faced since I was assigned to be Jim Kellspell’s chronicler.
By now I no longer care what he does with Carlton, or even how much longer he will be allowed to live.
I just need to see, on the scale of 1 to 10, how much pain he will be in, how many more times he will have to go to ER, and how many pounds of Prednizone and opioids will it take to make his existence bearable.
And I need to see the miracles Melekh had promised.
I WILL BE by Jim’s side to the very end he had predicted so long ago.
And I must steel myself for what is coming.
Poor Kyle stirs in his uneasy sleep.
Level 2 this is... Energy spreads and penetrates. Here, everyone is so much more psychic than back in Level 1. Even in his sleep Kyle can feel my internal torment.
I’m going to sleep now. In fact, I will sit at the entrance of Jim’s channel and listen to his heart until I pass out. I can do that in my mind.
I was brought here by Melekh to make a record of Jim’s every word, every breath and every heartbeat.
And by God, this is exactly what I’m going to do.
;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;; ;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 41 (+41)
Name: The Thread Of Ariadna
(James, exhilarated, right before he falls apart in a bout of cough: I think I almost got the WHOLE SEQUENCE that leads us Home!)
Goal: I am silent in Your Presence.
Needed: How do we help James hear Prince Moretr better? Is THIS the goal of our current trial? I’m so lost in trying to pidgeonhole this situation...
Present: All the same + hospital staff, but a different shift.
Later rolls in, his shirt torn, all covered in blood and dirt: Isaak Milgram
“My Prince, if at all possible, please do not let me end up in the hospital today again... Or tomorrow. Please... I want to serve Henry and H.M., and I’m no good to them sick. Please help me get better...” Jim is praying between jagged, laboured breaths, laying in a twisted position of a snake being fried alive on a hot pan.
I cried and prayed through the night.
Kyle cried and prayed through the night.
Lord Carlton is outside, talking to Mr. Rubinstein in the backyard. I hope to dear Jesus that they are not just talking, but praying, too.
Oh, they are talking about the garden. And that Lord Carlton now “needs a gardener”.
Whatever, man. Next thing you know he will need his own cook, when there is a perfectly fine cafeteria with schnitzel and kosher food and anything you want. They have sensors there that pick up your food cravings, and next time you come, that type of food will be there for you exactly the way you craved it.
But high lord here, the remnant of times long gone, labors under a delusion that this is his personal India or something.
Sometimes I can hear Carlton talk when he is far away like that, because him and James have gotten so close, that they basically united their minds. Or, rather, Carlton let James take over like the ocean overwhelms a small brackish seaside river.
Lord Carlton’s River is the size of Amazon, but it is all the same to the large, warm, kind ocean of Jim’s incredible mind.
“Relax,” the ocean says to the river. “I love you. I will take care of you. You will feel better if you surrender to me COMPLETELY...”
So Carlton did.
He now relies on James for everything. Like the expensive Angorran cat James was always talking about.
Here I am, sitting high and pretty. Feed me. Brush my gorgeous hair. Scratch me behind my ear. Wipe my ass. Clean up after me. Let me sink my teeth into your hand because you are annoying and you deserve it. Now fuck me. Entertain me. Ok, done. Dinner, bath, put me into those fresh silk linens and sleep on the rug by my slippers with your nose in them.
The worst part about the demanding Diva is that Jim gets off doing all that. Big time. He rushes around on Carlton’s often meaningless errands, he lets Carlton interrupt his studies to wipe his every sniffle.
And to top it off Jim looks like a love-struck cartoon character with red hearts flying out of his eyes every time Carlton gives him this decimating stare of “when can I beat your ass for being such a lazy, worthless excuse for a servant?”
I can’t stop talking about the motherloving Carlton! I’m so incensed, so aggravated by Jim’s inability to put his foot down, and the fact that after everything he had done, he did not deserve a better partner! Someone who would appreciate him!
It’s overcast today, and the morning is warm, but misty.
James twists and turns, and then becomes motionless in a silent stupor, pressing his left chest into the bed to constrict his lungs. They told him it would be easier to breathe this way.
A large tear rolls out of Jim’s baggy, tormented eye and onto my palm.
I’m holding his awkwardly turned head as he crawls out of his stupor, and is struggling to breathe again, in fits and starts. Watching him suffer so much, I’m doing my damnest to suppress anger, rising within.
We are on both levels at the same time, superimposed.
“You know what I think? I think it is lead poisoning from his pipe, Kyle.” I say and I can’t believe I’m saying it.
How can it be?
But what else can it be?
This is the time, and this is the place,
So, give us some Grace,
Please give us Your Grace!
8 hrs later.
A-and H.M. took Jim back to the hospital.
The doc changed Ketorolac 10 mg to Prednizone 20 mg and the pain pill Hydroco/APAP 5-325 mg. I am to coordinate that.
Jim is slightly better now, all his veins poked for bloodwork for embolisms and lead poisoning (my idea!!!).
It’s been a trainwreck of a Rising Moon, and we are not through yet. We need to make it till Monday, somehow.
Jim is in bed, in our bedroom. Lord Carlton is in a newly brought plush chair, with his velvet dressing gown on, with Christopher showing him how to work the bridgeplate.
This chair is not the only new addition here.
Guess what happened. While James was out of it, Lord Carlton has ordered a formal dining room with a view to the English garden.
And he got it.
Now he needs a gardener, and Butler Merritt is already overwhelmed as it is.
I might end up out there trimming the stupid shrubs. NOT a desirable outcome.
More on that later.
“Ok, and if I want to get a hold of Sofia, I just touch this purple cloud? Oh, It’s not always purple?” Carlton consults Christopher, attending to him with a slight bow over Carlton’s left shoulder.
Kyle is freshening up the bathroom, because Lord Carlton wishes to take a shower with James very soon.
I don’t know if I can even get Jim out of bed, all dizzy, disoriented, and pumped up on opioid drugs.
A flash of lightning on the background of the tall pines, loud voices, shots fired - all this is heard for a fast moment, and a man separates from the lightning about ten meters up in the air.
The man in light-grey slacks, a white shirt and a ripped jacket falls down diagonally and into the gravel of our path in the backyard. He tries to break his fall with his hands, and soon they are buried in gravel and dirt up to his elbows.
As Lord Carlton raises his head and narrows his eyes in disbelief, and I’m about to hit the emergency button to have Moretr’s Arkabins investigate and pick up a dead body from the sky (surely no one could survive this!), the man gets up and stumbles towards us.
He crosses the backyard in three large jumping steps, like a tiger, reaches and opens the sliding door before we can gather our scattered wits.
“Is James Kellspell... or Hafnian Wolf... here?” He asks hoarsely as he sticks his head in. And notices Henry reclined leisurely in his plush chair. “Mr. Carlton! Henry Carlton himself, wow... Did not expect to see you here... how is the... weather in London? Can I talk... to James?”
Carlton pierces James with an intense stare. And boy, is this stare as burning as an angry blue laser!!!
If only the industry could figure out his secret, such laser could be put to use for the benefit of humanity. It could probably do some precise building demolition jobs without an ounce of TNT.
Jim gets from the bed in his pajamas, supported by me.
“Henry, I swear, I had absolutely nothing to do with this!”
“And I am supposed to believe that, Mr. Kellspell? You are so sweet in between lying! For every time we laugh, there are two times I spend crying!!”
These are the lines from a song “Gotta Leave” by Back Door Slam. Carlton used to play that song for James every day to let him know how he felt about their relationship. Not exactly a love song, mind you.
“Henry, please...” Jim begins, looking miserable with his hair disheveled, dark circles around his eyes, and a worn out white wife-beater shirt showing from under his crumpled pajamas, as he lays in bed twisting and turning, not quite being able to land on any one side, looking for a position in which he could breathe, and finding none...
“It’s just raining your boyfriends recently, right?” Carlton dismisses Christopher with a swing of his hand. “Allright, then, go talk to him! You have five minutes after which you are expected to undress and join me in the bathroom. Samuel, please make sure Mr. Kellspell comes back after exactly five minutes.”
“My Lord Carlton,” I begin “James May be too sick to perform his duties today...”
Carlton levels me with a disdainful, heavy stare.
“Maybe I should tell that to Marble every time I don’t feel like working.”
I lower my head and I bite my lip. Should have known better than seek for mercy in all the wrong places.
“Mr. Kellspell,” Carlton continues to do what he loves best: ordering everyone around. “Be generous with Mr. Milgram. Offer him a job. I need a gardener. Mr. Merritt, come with me.”
Henry leaves, but rest assured he will be reading the transcript of the conversation via the bridgeplate.
James walks out to the backyard on unsure legs, his face and lips twisted in a grimace of deep pain, his hand stuck to his left chest.
“Isaak Lvovich, kak vi suda popali?!” He asks Isaak in Russian, and Isaak shakes his head like a dog caught with his mouth in a cookie jar.
“Clara... what should I do?” He says very quietly while rubbing his hand on the glass of the sliding door, leaving bloody and dirty palm prints.
I can hear everything via our common channel, unless Jim blocks me out. And this time he does not.
“You need to read “The Oath Of The Magnificat”, Isaak Lvovich.” Jim answers through laboured breaths. “And you need to come to Melekh. He, then, will give you someone who you can say this oath to.”
“Naomi...” Isaak whispers.
“You wanted to bring her back two years ago, Isaak Lvovich! Instead you did nothing but ran around. You looked absolutely miserable on SNL, and you did not spend a day trying to prepare for the test you failed at Calabases!”
“But who am I... supposed to tell... the oath to?” Isaak speaks slowly, finding words with difficulty. It feels like he is DeVo-ing, regressing just like Hafnian Wolf who lost his capacity for human speech long before he was sent to James.
“You cannot choose that person yourself. Because you do not know what you need. This is where you make “your” ego bend its knees.” James is the one who should be struggling for words, but just like a faithful God’s shepherd dog, he is clear as a judge when he sees a sheep in need of herding.
“Can I just... stay here?” Isaak kind of loses his composure, and his balance, and swings there and back, as if he can no longer stand on his two feet. And it is a miracle he lasted this long after a fall like that.
“Yes, possibly, but you should turn yourself in first.”
“How about... I crash in one of those rooms? Can I get... “Red Label” here?” Isaak holds on to the door, leaving another long smear on the glass.
“Net, Isaak Lvovich, you can’t stay here illegally, AND start with looking for alcohol.” Jim makes a motion with both hands as if pushing him away. “But if you go around this building to the front door, the attending Arkabin physician will provide medical help for you. That’s where you must start. I must go now!” Jim turns to meet my eyes through the glass door.
I’m in charge to bring him back to Lord Carlton after exactly five minutes.
“I don’t need... any help.” There is hardness and stubbornness in Isaak’s low, growling voice, and even in his whole appearance.
In fact, the stubbornness lays in deep layers over his whole image. In the way his eyes are down, hooded, hiding, and in his super-wide shoulders, now clad in a ripped light-colored jacket with the bleeding skin seen through the holes.
“Look at yourself! You just fell from the sky and hit the gravel at 50 mph. Our backyard looks like it was plowed by a meteorite, gravel and crap strewn all over! Our backyard needs help and you’re telling me you do not?”
“Clara, please...” Isaak stretches his bleeding hand towards Jim, but he moves away. “Is Dittmanovich... there? Can I talk to him?”
“My teacher fell sick right after Calabases. He was bed-ridden for nine months. He is not here. He was taken to the Hospital for Magical Maladies... His replacement is Samuel Of Salem.”
“Oh.” Isaak raises his head and looks bewildered, smitten by the news. “Did he succumb to the exposure of your radiation, like what you did to Hugh?”
“Possibly, yes.” Jim is startled, he even gasps, but keeps his composure. “We are not allowed to talk about exposure levels.”
And we do not talk about that.
Neither do I care about THAT large white elephant in the room.
I may be next, because i have been with Jim for 8 months already. There is a rumor that Jim is a large chunk of an Amatrix. And those are highly radioactive by nature. But so far it is Jim who looks exposed to something.
Isaak tries to look inside of the bedroom, maybe in hopes to see Hafnian Wolf there, and know that Jim is joking.
But Jim is not joking. And he does not appreciate the spying.
“Isaak Lvovich, listen, I am a married man now. I have three husbands, counting the Hafnian Wolf, a minor child, and I’m probably to marry Kyle soon. I’m a student of a very tough school, and I work full time. My desire to jeopardize all that is -300 F. Colder than on Mars, just FYI! Plus, I am very sick right now. Honestly, I believe I am sicker than everyone thinks, and right now I’m going through my worst nightmare of slow decline into pain and darkness. And breathing around a knife in my heart. Have you ever tried to breathe through a knife in your heart?”
Isaak nods with his head down.
Yeah, of all people he is probably the one.
“I am going to report you to Mr. Rubinstein.” Jim glances at me again, and I hit my left wrist with my fingers to urge him to wrap up the sermon.
“Mr. Rubinstein runs this place. Now I must lay down, because I can’t breathe. Lord Henry Carlton was gracious enough to offer you a job. He needs a gardener. Since you have completely disregarded the instructions on passing the test, that were given to you by me and my teacher when we parted at your apartment in New York almost a year ago, I suggest you grab a pair of scissors and start cutting Lord Carlton’s lawn. Service builds humility. It will prepare you for your oath of Magnificat.”
With that Jim goes back to me.
“Clara, wait!” Isaak stretches his bleeding hand, but Jim slides the door in his face.
Isaak talks through the door, his words muffled, his dirty, bruised face is full of anguish.
I catch Jim’s eyes.
“No, Samuel, tell him to go around the building and knock on the front door. I can’t talk anymore.” James is breathing hard between bouts of cough. “I’m busy owning my mistakes. Isaak should do the same. He had a year to straighten up, but instead he did nothing but run around all over again.”
Isaak turns around and staggers away across our busted gravel path with his head bowed really low.
I feel for him, I do. He is a good man. But he is ego-driven. That’s why he is so hurt. He must earn his way back to Heaven. Mr. Rubinstein will determine if he is even capable of remaining at this high level of consciousness.
Kyle comes in with a cloth, an a bottle of Windex, and cleans up the imprints of Isaak’s hands in his blood off the sliding door.
That done, he turns to us.
“Lord Carlton wishes to have breakfast served to him at exactly 7:30 am tomorrow in the formal dining room.” Kyle says as Lord Carlton comes back and sits in his chair again.
Like, he could not just tell us himself. No, that’s the hudlum way. The way of the gentleman is to announce his wishes through his butler.
Ohh, ridiculous. Oh, insanity rain on me. But Jim perks up and steals an adoring glance at his royal boyfriend, lording over us like his colony.
“The formal dining room? Where is that?” James whispers to Kyle.
Aha, yeah, that’s the surprise.
Last night I was just cleaning up our good old kitchen. This morning I came for coffee and our kitchen opened up into a formal dining room with tall ceiling, complete with a large long table with some thin, hand-painted, obviously very expensive china on it.
More so, tall windows had a view of a very well-manicured lawn with flower beds on it, surrounded by a holly hedge.
I wanted to know what the get up was for, and now I see. It will be our Lord’s dining room. He is to sit at the head of that table, and we are to serve him.
I think Jim is getting it, and he can barely hide his excitement.
Yeah, see, THE HUDLUM WAY would be FOR ALL OF US to sit around that table and eat pizza off paper plates, or maybe just right out of the box. Drink beer, bullshit, and feel the camaraderie.
THE ROYAL WAY I could not think of to save my life will be for the most privileged one to sit and eat of the most expensive china, while the rest of the team stands at attention.
I try to explain to Jim that Lord Carlton must be delusional to demand all that, but my voice of reason is drowned in Jim’s joy like a rock in the sea. With no hope of retrieval.
Having totally forgotten about everything else, including Isaak’s arrival and his own hospitalization, James goes after Kyle with a thousand whispered questions about the etiquette of serving breakfast to a royalty.
Kyle assures him that he was drilled on the protocol by the Arkabins, and he will bear the brunt of it. All we need to do is be our Lord’s ladies-in-waiting, be dressed properly, stand at attention, and run to the kitchen without hesitation for whatever it is Lord Carlton might need during breakfast.
Having learned all these incredible news, Jim puts together a poem, praising his Most Perfect Noble Lord, while he coughs and moans, holding on to his chest, writhing in pain. Then the drugs I gave him kick in, and he falls into an uneasy sleep.
The love-struck fool will be composing hymns of praise, nursing his stuff for Lord Carlton, caring nothing for a slow, painful death as he rises upwards on the wings of love.
I, on the other hand, believe that his condition is much more severe than we are led to believe.
Serene Jim does not care if he dies tomorrow, al long as he dies by Carlton’s feet.
But I am going directly to Melekh, if I have to call Prince Moretr for that, and I would like to know why Jim’s condition was allowed to linger and proliferate for seven months, when I rang every bell I could find, and Moretr is supposed to be this all-seeing being anyway?!
And Melekh is a transferring stage of Father!
Seven nannies in the safest of havens could not keep one man safe.
They did not see it?
They saw it and did nothing?
Or, is there some deeper meaning to this man’s profound physical suffering that did not have to take place in this day and age?!!
James has been writhing in pain, trying to breathe “around a knife in his heart” for over a week now. And that is the pinnacle we did not have to witness if his incredibly strong, long-lasting cough could be addressed earlier! Like, BACK IN FALL!
Oh, what good does it do to whine... I must end my transmission now, because it is making me more and more furious as I write this.
If we lose James to this, I honestly do not know how can I keep my faith.
A week later of all kinds of drugs he is not feeling much better, because his condition WAS ALLOWED TO PROGRESS AND FESTER THIS FAR.
I simply can’t wrap my silly little mind around this situation.
Crying by my only friend’s bed. Hitting my head against a wall...
I need help, I need help... Samuel of Salem here. Can anyone hear me? Is my most beloved going to die a slow, agonizing death just like he feared all along?
How can it be?!
And, also, Jim is in no shape to take a shower and have sex with Lord Carlton as is being planned. I will put my foot down here. Someone has to!
Samuel of Salem over and out.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 40 (+40)
Name: Jim Gets It.
Kyle Gets It.
And I Still Don’t.
You can run from it
Until you are nice and lean,
But only The Presence Of God
Disables the darned machine.
Misty Shield
“The Age Of No Pain”
Goal: “Please help me be perfect for my Lord. I can’t fail Henry.”
Needed: A Goblet Of Grace. We must drink it, or we will never wake up.
Present: All of us plus the hospital staff, Level 1.
LEVEL 1.
Jim is on the hospital bed. Pleuritis. Suspicion for pneumonia. I am crying, because he has been coughing pretty much since the day I arrived, and no one listened to me.
Now Jim is freaking out that he will not be able to smoke anymore.
“I need to talk to Melekh...” Jim moans from the bed. “If I stop smoking the “Spice Of Life”, I will no longer be able to see and hear Him, or any one of you, for that matter... I will lose my Third Eye eyesight, and that will plunge me into depression, and I will not even have the motivation to get out of bed! I will be of no use to H.M. OR Henry!!!”
I can’t take his suffering anymore. Samuel of Salem over and out. Must find a secluded corner to cry in private.
END OF SCENE.
Next day.
“If I continue smoking, and my condition worsens, and I end up in ER again...” Jim whispers into the bridgeplate, because this is all he has been talking about since discharged from the hospital. “I will never forgive myself... Yet it is worse than death without the Spice of Life. I wish I could hear something encouraging... This is my most painful subject. Melekh, please hear me... Is there anything that can be done concerning the restrictions?”
Melekh answers him, and apparently James can very easily shield me out of the frequency. I can’t hear Melekh’s response.
Ahem, Carlton was right, then. Jim IS having me for a fool. Yet, I don’t believe he sees it that way. He is just used to being his own man, and I’m used to respecting his boundaries.
Lord Carlton, on the other hand, just does not care for those boundaries. He is going to bring James to his knees if it kills him.
Like a hunter after a highly prized prey, he works tirelessly around the clock to have James surrounded and captured.
He also makes no secret of his agenda, as we are about to find out.
“Yes, I can do that as a part of a three-way deal. I can quit cigarettes on Level 1, and I can switch to edibles as far as Spice of Life is concerned. That’s plan B. I get it.”
He lays with his eyes closed on his bed on Level 1, with Henry crying into my chest.
Yes, Henry.
Lord Carlton is crying into my chest. Apparently where others wish to find a quiet corner for a clandestine crying session, he just grabs one of his servants.
I happen to be the butler on duty because Kyle is busy polishing our Lord’s shoes.
For the love of God, WHAT WOULDN’T I DO FOR JIM?!
Now, our master here on my chest is terrified that his prized possession might slip away by shedding his body on Level 1.
Clearly, he is fully aware that he is nothing without James. He does not need Jim’s brain as much as he needs Jim’s dick up his butt.
Between these two as necessary life crutches (I mean, brain and dick), I think Henry took the news of Jim’s illness the hardest of all of us.
As James cannot imagine his life without ru-warb (“the ticket to Heaven”), Lord Carlton cannot imagine his life without James (his ticket to Heaven, his meal ticket, and the ticket out of the circle of reincarnation for his whole extended family).
James continues talking into his bridgeplate. “It’s hard with the edibles, for I’d have to make sure that edibles, food and units of alcohol for submersion with H.M. do not collide in my stomach. It’s like trying to take the wolf, the goat and a head of cabbage across the river in one boat.”
Now, in order for 6 “ 2 Henry to be able to cry into the chest of a twink like me, I had to sit his large shuddering frame into a chair. And then come close enough for him to bury his face on my chest.
No, I have not seen Carlton this sincerely moved since the day he arrived. That one time he begged Jim to take him. That’s it.
Now he is terrified that Jim might die before they get to meet on Level 1.
And, seriously, I have been begging for medical attention for Jim for seven months.
With all others equal, this lack of feedback must be addressed. Or at least explained, fuck, people!!!
James, however, is keeping his cool as much as he can, for he knows he must.
All in all, he is still in charge of three crying omegas. He’d line us up and fuck us for consolation, if he did not struggle just to breathe.
This rising moon has been especially cruel to him.
He lost his battle on recycling with H.M., who refused to take recycling once a month to Cheyenne after their Wheatland facility has gone belly up after 4 months of coronavirus.
He then saw more than his share of pain, fear and doctors, with a tally of 2 ovarian cysts, a bad case of pleurisy and excruciating pain in his lower left tooth with three more days to go before he can crash at the old friend Dr. Anderson’s.
All that besides his constant worry about money (going through too much money between dental and medical), and not being able to smoke or drink anymore.
As we have been hearing, Jim’s smoking on Level 1 had to stop due to a very painful case of pleurisy, and he can no longer drink his one unit of wine that gets him through intimacy with H.M. due to the nature of the drug he is taking for pleurisy (Ketorolac 10 mg).
Basically he was stripped of all his crutches and bandages, and thrown back into the tumbler totally naked but for the protection of Prince Moretr.
Normally, just hinting at taking away one of these things would make him lose it.
But this time Moretr told Lord Carlton that his parents would get double pay in money, convertible to karmic credits for every day Jim is made to suffer.
Guess what, Carlton was there with the whip the moment Jim dragged himself out of bed on Level 1 to make something to eat for H.M. and take his pleurisy medicine.
And, of course, the habit of ordering around his servants.
Is that what you do? Not me, for sure. What kind of a ridiculous fossil this guy is?
“Mr. Merritt, would you make sure Mr. Kellspell does everything he is told to do?”
Ok, fossil or not, but Lord Carlton clearly can’t hold on to his prized horse just by himself, so he employs people to help him hold his wayward, but well worth it, possession.
“Yes, sir!” Kyle helps Jim get dressed and pushes him from the bedroom and into the kitchen without letting him hesitate, or lament the fact that he can’t drown his grief in the fumes of the Spice of Life every 20 minutes like he used to.
“Samuel, would you please make sure that Mr. Kellspell does not do anything he is not allowed to do?”
“Yes, my Lord.” I say with a sigh.
I get it. In between standing over James, crying, and calling his wife, Carlton has explained to me the inner workings of our situation that were not obvious to me so far.
See, there is always the silver lining. In the last 24 hours we spent at Jim’s bedside, sobbing, praying and caring for him, we had a lot of time together, meaning, between us, omegas. Not distracted by any other drama, or school.
This is what Henry explains, in a nutshell:
let Jim loose and you will end up with a mess of a drunk, smoked-up derelict. He is a large, directionless Chunk of Father attached to an even larger ego (but not bigger than Father), who will not return willingly. Let him have his way and he will sit on the Key to the Pearly Gates because he is too lazy and unmotivated to do anything with it.
But give him an incentive in the form of a handsome, intelligent, whacky and demanding man who knows how to ride a horse like James, and Jim is more than happy to play along.
“Once the Oculum of James is brought back to Melekh, each one of us can have whatever we want.” Carlton explained, cracking a beer in the short periods of Jim passing out with exhaustion. “I will have what I asked, you can have whatever it is you entered this quest for, and Kyle can ask to have his mother put in the Buckingham Palace for all I care.”
“What is Jim going to get?”
“What do you mean?” Carlton looked out to the backyard and the setting sun lit up his flawless face with features so perfectly polished that Michelangelo himself would approve of this marble statue.
Approximately, just as much of human warmth was coming from the man talking to me.
“James Kellspell is what I asked for. I will keep him in chains forever.”
I gasped, terrified of Jim’s fate, and how close I was to guessing it from the get go.
The man just made his agenda very clear. I must warn my James!
This is where Jim stirred in his sleep and his face widened in a happy, blissful smile.
Ten hours later.
Jim can barely make it from a dose to a dose throughout the day. As soon as the pain/anti inflammatory meds wear out, he grabs his chest and breathes with difficulty. Or he grabs his jaw and stares into the wall.
Basically, between his cysts, his tooth and his pleurisy the man’s background pain level is 8 out of 10 possible as we’re sitting here, about to go to bed.
I know, i’m in his head.
But he don’t give a rat’s ass about that.
He slept for a couple of hours, woke up in pain, but in an excellent mood, and begged Henry to sit by his side, so he could kiss his hands and thank him for his gracious presence. All that between jagged breaths.
He was promised the eternity with Henry, and he cares little of the fact that he is currently very ill.
For those who might stumble upon these records. This is what love is made of.
Crucify me, so that your family is guaranteed the ticket to The Last Train To Heaven.
I will smile through my tears, because I love you.
I will stop using drugs of Anger and Envy for you.
I will stop kicking a voodo doll of this one prominent director, telling his frozen image every night what a godless piece of shit he is for taking 200 points of I.Q. and money he did not deserve and making a whole bunch of violent, revenge-glorifying movies. Instead of making the movies that would lead people to God and ease their suffering.
I will quit saying that he got what I SHOULD HAVE RECEIVED IN LIFE.
I will quit chewing on my favorite bone by saying how tremendously, irreparably unfair life is, for I tried so hard for four decades and I got nothing, while you bitches squandered all your gifts AND had a gratifying creative life.
I watched him flush all these drugs of hatred and envy down the toilet while crying his eyes out.
Over, over and over. So he could be clean for his Suzhenii (his “God-dedicated partner”, Russian).
Test me all the way to the gates of hell, he says.
I will never bend, I will never let you down.
I get it. With tears in my eyes, after going through the Arkchil records not just of Jim’s everyday life, but his dreams, I get it.
I saw his nightmares and the violent fantasies he used to indulge in, about stripping of wealth those he believed did not deserve it, or misused it.
Carlton to James is what molybdenum to steel.
Without Henry Jim would have been just another fuck-up, full of hate for those who “made it”.
With Henry he is ready to face his Eternal Life with honor and commitment.
I wish I could go on, but now I’m living in the same room with Kyle.
Meaning, right here.
Kyle is on the bridgeplate with his mother. He is crying, and I can’t focus.
As far as I know, his mother is being held in the Grey Building or around there until there are enough credits to move her into a better facility.
I could sleep with the guys, but I decided to spend some more time with Kyle. Now that we share the room (but not the bed yet, I think Kyle is not ready), we can talk into wee hours, unless I have a communications class with Christopher in the morning.
“Jim was in the hospital yesterday, Mom.” Kyle sobs into his hands over the bridgeplate.
Some of his tears escape his palms and get absorbed by the bridgeplate. His every tear will be captured and analyzed.
Poor Kyle has been crying the entire hour he’s been talking to his mother. And not just about Jim. He misses her and wants to move her closer to us, but he had not made enough money/credits yet.
It’s almost 9pm. He better finish in the next ten minutes. He knows rules better than me.
By Lord Carlton’s order no sound is to come from the butler’s quarters after 9 pm.
How did I circle down so low as to become this insolent Englishman’s bitch, anyway? Jim was the one who signed up for it, not me.
Better not think about it.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 39 (+39)
Name: A Martyr Is Not Just A Shahid
Goal: “To Please My Lord Carlton”
Needed: Teamwork to support James
Present: Samuel Of Salem, Kyle Merritt.
Later comes in: Jame Kellspell with a need to do drugs, and a crystal-clear understanding that he can no longer ignore Henry on that subject. I’m happy and honored to act as his AA Meeting.
So, I moved in with Kyle.
We now live in the room adjacent to Jim and Henry’s. I still have to be present with my James, but now I have an option of leaving the room if it gets too tough for me.
But this morning i’m going through the recent Arkchil record, copying some interesting pieces.
Here we go, Prince Moretr with James on “Lira” :). Our Skyfall Genesis place:
“This fern contains pieces of the Code that is closest to The Original Source.”
Another thing he said to James during that trip in the woods:
“Law One states: The closer We are, the less I need to explain.”
And then this one He taught James from Melekh’s Language: “I am silent in Your Presence.”
That is a cool one, and sounds like a piece of The Magnificat vase. Maybe it is. We only know 13 Incantations (13 pieces of Magnificat). Come to think of it, it can only be 1, 3, 6 or 9. 6 being optimal. In other words, presently we have two and a tail of Magnificats.
“MagnifiCATS” Kyle reads over my shoulder. He is done folding our laundry, and is now taking Lord Carlton’s shirts, all ironed perfectly, to his closet. He might will see James there on his knees in front of Lord Carlton.
“Maybe my noble Lord would like to slap me in the face? My left cheek! Oh, thank you, sir! Did you enjoy that? How about my right cheek? Ohhh...”
My head... Oh, my head! I drink some more from the bottle of Canadian whiskey Mr. Rubinstein dispenses to everyone, but James.
I drank half a bottle since morning. This is not good.
I can’t stand it, though! I don’t understand!! Jim has done so much for so many, and never asked for anything back (the common muggles could not give me what I wanted, he told me), and THIS is what he gets?
How? WHY?! Where is justice?
I moved out of their room. But how do I move the Hammersmith Bridezilla out of my head?!!
Meanwhile Kyle picks up another shirt, and chuckles to himself, repeating his “chemistry” test as he walks out. “Cats. Silicates. Silly cats. A silly cat that did not swallow iron - tecto Silly Cat. Feldspar. Field Spar. Field Sparrow! Hey, I get chemistry! I am basically Marie Curie now! I wonder if they have Silly Dogs in chemistry?”
Grrr!!! This man has been here not two months, and he rose through the ranks, managed to put up his mother, became a law student (no silly cats there!) and weaseled his way into Lord Carlton’s graces!
And now he sings happily to himself as he goes about his daily duties?
Oh, by the way, about my duties. Kyle taught me how to use bridgeplate like a computer with word processor on it. No more writing on paper IN THE ABSENCE IF A COMPUTER.
You just enable the LEVEL EQUALIZER APP, which interfaces your mind with the bridgeplate.
Then you think of stuff you want to write down and you run your hand from top to bottom of the triangle inside of the plate.
The text will appear under your hand. Edit by thinking what to edit, and bring your hand/finger to the stuff you need changed.
KYLE taught me this! How did he do it? He figured it out. He was studying AF Law ( you have to know the domestic law before you go international) while sitting by the bridge plate that Cristopher helped him set up, and noticed that his thoughts were appearing in text over the shimmering colors of the bridgeplate. The text was disconnected, but in English, and resembled that of a text in the computer screen.
So he messed with it, splashed some colors (they eventually come back within their limits, like water in the pool), and figured, that if he just hit the top part of the darned bridgeplate, and started thinking while slowly moving his hand downwards, his thoughts would be recorded onto the bridgeplate.
And then later Christopher showed him how to retrieve the necessary file.
See, how much can be done when you are not constantly bent out of shape by the hammer of the Hammersmith Bride?!
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 38 (+38)
Name: The Bloody Rising Moon, for God’s Sake!
Goal: Wanting to Awaken from the painful ego-dreams.
Needed: A Glass Of Humility for James, for we are one. Once HE is drunk on it, all we need to do is wait for 24 hrs for it to hit us.
Same with anger. He knows he can’t get trashed on that anymore. He is kind of a pregnant mother now. All humility and no negative assets, and the kids should be just fine.
Yet, this is exactly what he did two days ago. So, we’re still sorting out that event.
Present: Everyone is present! Heck yeah.
“From now on, James, you are to stay open to me at all times.” Lord Carlton walks there and back by James on his knees between the bed and the sliding door to the backyard in our bedroom.
“Yes, my Lord!” James responds into his hands as he bends down to touch the floor with his forehead, and he remains that way.
“I will no longer tolerate you shutting me out, I don’t care if you take a shit on Level 1, you keep me present.”
“Yes, sir...” James whimpers. He has been crying for two hours, because Carlton has been berating and whipping him for two hours.
“If you shut me out again, if only for a second, I will find you in violation of both Magnificat and The Covenant, and I will deal with your disobedience as I see fit. Corporal punishment does you no good and only and ever gets you off. So you leave me no choice but to deny you intimacy.”
Jim moans through his hands, but says nothing.
“Furthermore, if I ever again find you in possession of drugs, I am going to take appropriate measures.” Carlton puts the riding crop on the bed, and reaches out to his drawer for the two hexagonal glass-like vials James had on his person when he shot himself.
The Arkabins searched James and brought the vials to Mr. Rubinstein, who handed them to Lord Carlton.
“You and all your possessions will be subject to search at random times, including your lab.” Carlton says to James, but turns to us:
Christopher, by the door to the hall, monitoring his bridgeplate, Kyle standing at attention nearby with a face of a wilted flower, and me, sitting on the other side of the bed with my eyes so swollen that I can barely see the two vials Lord Carlton is holding.
He is also holding them against the midday sun, making it that much harder to see, but I can still make out, that one finger-sized vial has a dark-brown murky liquid in it, and the second one is the color of diluted honey with a shitload of arsenic.
Not that I’d know what diluted arsenic would look like, but this should give a rough outline of how deadly the substance is within.
“Gentlemen, here I hold the drugs of incredible destructive power, confiscated from Mr. James Kellspell, who was doing those drugs right under our noses.”
Christopher raises his palm to make it a cross-reference point in the Arkchil record. It’s like stopping the tape at this particular moment. A snapshot.
Like, “This is where on this tape you pay special attention to the stuff being said or done.”
There is a term for it in communications, but I confess to not being a very good student of the subject taught here.
“These drugs “made” Mr. Kellspell shoot his partner H.M. in effigy, and then they “made him” shoot himself. Unfortunately, this is the excuse we have heard many times before. For, as we know, the drugs DO NOT jump at you from around the corner.”
As Jim cries and sobs, and Lord Carlton goes on about drugs, hitting him across his back here and there with a riding crop, to drive the point home, in my sorrow I reach out to Prince Moretr.
I call for him, just like that, without the bridgeplate.
And it works.
“How can I help Jim?” I ask tearfully in my mind.
“Relax and do what Lord Carlton is telling you to do.” The answer comes easily.
It is Melekh who answers me, I know. But Moretr is our connecting point.
“How is it right?” I need my answers.
“You will see. Give Henry some more time. He is already beginning to realize that physical violence does not deter James. Physical violence excites and inspires him, therefore, has no desired effect.”
“What does he need to do?” I really do not even know what questions to ask. I just want my, and Jim’s pain to be over with.
“Henry needs to dig deeper to exert control over James. And he is smart, he is getting there. Watch carefully.”
And I’m out and back in the bedroom turned makeshift courtroom.
Right in time. Watch carefully, he said. OK.
“What is this, Mr. Kellspell?” Carlton holds out a vial with darker liquid inside, for everyone in the room to witness.
James raises his head, his short dark hair disheveled and his eyes red and full of torment of repentance.
“This would be “Anger”, my most noble Lord.” He answers quietly.
Kyle gasps. Oh, come on! As if HE had never taken a vial like that himself!
At least once.
No, look at him, standing there with this timid, angelic face. James was right, i can’t imagine this man to be angry at anyone, or anything, ever.
He just takes whatever life gives him. Humility is possibly his biggest gift.
“And what is this?” Carlton lifts a vial of diluted honey color.
“That’s “Envy” James exhales, coughs, and rolls his shoulders, all covered in lash marks.
Right. I used to drink a gallon of that a day. Not since I turned myself in, but, come on, who did not get high on that one? Is James going to get any break here?
Ahem, apparently not.
“If I ever see your lips touch these vials again...” Carlton lashes Jim across his chest, making him scream hoarsely and bend over again.
And right before he brings his face all the way to the floor, I catch the expression in his eyes.
It’s euphoric.
As I share a channel with him, I can hear his thoughts:
“I do not know what I did, but thank you, God, for the gift of this most handsome man whipping the living daylights out of me. OMIGOSH, WHAT A RUSH!”
It is possible, that Lord Carlton notices it, too.
For he stops, looks at the riding crop, and suddenly throws it aside.
He then pulls James by his t-shirt-clad, bloodied shoulder.
Carlton’s grip upon Jim’s shoulder is so hard that his knuckles turn white. He is enraged and breathing fire.
“Look at me.” Henry hisses, but there is more desperation than anger in his voice.
Shaking James raises his head, and their eyes meet.
“It hurts me to say it, but if you ever do these drugs, I will not let you see Sofia anymore.”
A sharp flash of pain and fear in Jim’s eyes blinds me for a moment. Not a single time have I seen this look in his eyes before.
No matter what Carlton would beat him with, or for how long.
This is what I was supposed to watch for. Yes. I see it.
Lord Carlton would have to dig deeper to get Jim under control.
And he just did.
“Forgive me, but am not going to let a gun-brandishing drug addict around my family.” Carlton pushes James’s face back to the floor with a sharp motion of his large, powerful, threatening hand.
During Carlton’s speech Christopher runs his finger across the edge of the bridgeplate for whatever reason, making the colors in it partially dissipate, and then re-assemble.
Kyle watches Lord Carlton like a diligent student. Or as his lady-in-waiting. In other words, his bitch.
And I still feel like I betrayed the whole humanity by letting a human to be treated in such a horrific way.
This is what Carlton does. He goes around beating people down to make them his bitches.
He did it to Jim, he did it to the freshly arrived recruit Mr. Kyle Merritt, and he has been trying to do it to me for five months now.
“Samuel, can you tell me why it is not a good idea to let a gun-brandishing drug addict around your family?” Carlton has since got his whip back. Kyle brought it to him.
As he asks me this question, he swings the crop and leaves a lash mark on the bedsheet with Jim’s blood.
Very theatric. Yeah, look at me with these completely cold, literally reptile-like eyes with not a shred of humanity in them.
I have some questions for you, too.
Like, how does this man’s blood taste to you? Good?
And, the biggie: How did God let a toxic vampire devil like yourself into a life of a man as holy as James?
“I don’t have a family.” I respond defiantly, for, obviously, I have not suffered enough yet.
“Mr. Merritt, what is the right answer?” Lord Carlton turns to his bitch, and he does not have to wait long for support there.
Nor does he expect to wait long for anything he wants or demands.
“Never let a gun-brandishing drug addict around your family!” Kyle responds readily, but his eyes remain just as sad and directed inwards.
“That’s what I hoped you would say, Samuel. Thank you, Mr. Merritt, good effort.” Carlton loosens the collar of his shirt, revealing a strong, muscular neck, suggesting the rest of his body to be just as attractive.
Is that what Jim looks at when Carlton goes after him? Thank you, sentient being Prince Moretr, who sees right through every human here. I’m beginning to see other points of view through his 360 * worth of eyes.
I remember the day when I told Jim exactly this: “Carlton is schooling you to become his slave!”
Do you know what he answered? Oh, God help me. “Have you noticed it, too?! So, I’m not imagining it!” James said with a blissful face and saucer-large eyes full of wonder.
What a love-struck idiot with an IQ of 129!
“Please repeat back to me what I just said, James.” Carlton is relentless in establishing his rule. “What is going to happen to you if you do these drugs again?”
“You are not going to let me see Sofia...” James says fast, like a person who is freezing cold, or someone on speed. Or as if these words were red-hot stones that burned his mouth, and he had to spit them out quickly.
His lips quiver and his hand shakes as he tries to brush his hair back off his sweat-dripping face.
“Very well, Mr. Kellspell. You may get up and take a shower now. I expect you back here in fifteen minutes.”
Jim nods as he gets up and heads to the bathroom.
“Mr. Merritt, you may get back to your chores. I expect my shirts clean and ironed by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir!” Kyle leaves with a short bow, obviously happy to be gone from the “courtroom”.
“Christopher, I need the reports on the dates I mentioned by tomorrow night. You may take this afternoon off, if you choose to do so.”
Christopher nods and presses the palm of his right hand into the colorful clouds of the bridgeplate. I have no idea what this gesture means. I have never seen I’m do this before, or maybe I never paid attention.
“Samuel, I need you to follow Mr. Kellspell to make sure he uses a sponge to scrub his entire body, and not just stands under the water like a lazy, disenfranchised horse. He is to smell like nothing but fresh soap when he gets out. He is to be clean-shaven. He is to brush and floss his teeth and you are to inspect his fingernails for cleanliness. Do you understand my instructions, or shall I send in some 10 year old to supervise you both on the matters of hygiene?”
“Yes, sir, no, sir, and thank you, sir.” I respond even as I am insulted that I was swept into the same pile as James as far as the hygiene is concerned.
Now, I might look like a wild, uncultured American hudlum in his eyes, but I certainly am offended at the proposal to have a 10 year old show me how to brush my teeth.
Oh, what the heck. I lose every time I pick a fight with Carlton.
At least I get to spend time alone with James. And yes, I’m going to get into his every hole and wrinkle to make sure he is clean and ready for sex with Lord Carlton.
For I know the demanding Lord’s agenda, and I know where this is going.
Fifteen minutes. I have fifteen minutes to prepare James for round two of the games.
He is being taught how to be Lord Carlton’s butler AND his sex-slave, and the love-struck idiot with an IQ of 129 is walking right into it!
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 37 (+37)
Name: The Tough Rising Moon
(Are we going to lose Jim to a heart condition?)
Status: OPEN
Goal: Do not let the machine control your tongue.
My Personal Goal: Father, please give me strength to watch Lord Carlton make Jim into his bitch.
Needed: A Glass of Humility (this is kind of a default to fall back on right now. The Rising Moon, and we all are struggling.)
Present: Everyone is present.
But what we need as a present is a cardiologist on Level 1.
The other day Lord Carlton held a kangaroo court, during which, among other things, he yelled at Kyle and manhandled him until the already fragile (and elderly!) Kyle fainted.
I’m done bringing everyone’s attention to the violence Carlton gets away with, because it is pointless.
When I gave up that platform in my mind, it felt like I let the last whale get killed by the trawlers, and I let the last dolphin get strangled in the fishnets. It hurt that bad. I felt like I was betraying everything humane left in me.
But I’m over that. Kyle helped me greatly with my internal moral struggles. Hanging with him gave me a perspective I could not think of.
Every time I’d bring up (and describe in every detail) how Jim suffers from Lord Carlton, Kyle would respond by “Did Jim tell you that?” And, my favorite: “To the best of your knowledge, is James Kellspell of legal age?”
Yeah. You get the picture.
Anyway, it took me a few days to obtain the Arkchil records of the convo that Lord Carlton had with Kyle before he collapsed. They were tough few days, too.
I got the printout.
Here is what it said:
Lord Carlton: “What else did you talk about? You talked with him for fifteen minutes! Did you just sit there and had cyber-sex?!”
Kyle Merritt: “No, sir... i confessed to Mr. Kellspell that I was broke. I felt awful. We parted ways for three decades, I lived my life the way I wanted, he always said that he did not have a single happy day in his life, and here I am asking him for karmic credits. Me, the Fat Cat. But I had no choice. I begged him for help.”
Lord Carlton: “How much did he give you?!”
Kyle Merritt: “I would rather not go into that, sir.”
Lord Carlton: “I will repeat my question. How much did you receive from James Kellspell? I can’t escort you off this ship, Mr. Merritt, but I can make your life very difficult here.”
Kyle Merritt: “Please, understand... All this is very embarrassing for me... Ohh... You are hurting my shoulder!”
This is probably where Carlton pushed Kyle “over the limit”, he gave in to stress, psychological pressure and physical pain, and collapsed.
This is where the record ended.
I would dwell on it, but since then James has already lost it twice with H.M. on Level 1, fired shots out of a 9mm M&P into the portrait of H.M. on one day, and ran off into the woods the next day during two separate fights that took place between them.
That took the wind out of my “Lord Carlton - the bad guy” campaign.
“What did I tell you?” Carlton said to me as he snapped his fingers and sent three burly Arkabins to hunt down James.
Right before I could answer, a single gunshot was heard from the distance.
“What was that?” Kyle mouthed to me.
I stood in the backyard, looking into the woods, feeling my hands and feet grow cold, then numb.
And then one single Arkabin appeared on the path. The wind blew about his long black hair as he carried a body of a human in his arms.
* * *
It took the Arkabins over ten hours to revive James. He shot himself in the right temple with the 9 mm handgun.
In fact, on Level 2 all you need to do is WAIT until the person comes around. But they diligently tracked him after he escaped his body. They stood by him and prevented him from slipping out of the Strobulus.
“This man has signed the Covenant in his blood.” Carlton commented in a detached, cold voice as he walked by Jim’s lifeless body on the bed. The wound in his head had just about sealed by then. “In that Covenant he promised to take care of me and my family.”
In these ten hours by Jim’s bed I cried so much that I could no longer feel anything.
I was out of strength, and out of bounds.
I was too weak, both physically and legally, to contradict Henry.
“Now you see who you are dealing with?” Carlton added in a grim tone before he walked out of the room, through the backyard, and towards Mr. Rubinstein’s quarters.
We all tend to take refuge there in the hardest of moments.
An hour later Jim woke up with a start as I was holding his icy-cold hand, and Kyle was doing the laundry, and cleaning of the bathroom, and other chores that would normally be Jim’s responsibility.
Level 2 or not, but his suicide attempt did affect his body on Level 1.
“My heart on Level 1, Samuel...” Jim said in a barely audible whisper. “Can you call Prince Moretr? The left side of my chest hurts like bloody hell... every time I inhale. I don’t know how much... longer... I can last...”
It was Sunday on Level 1. The clinic was closed. His only other option would be to go to the emergency, which would have cost him his deductible, $7 500.
Jim’s worst fear.
I prayed that would not happen.
All we needed now was last through the night.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 36 (+36)
Wanted: A Goblet Of Grace
Helping the camel through the eye of the needle.
Status: OPEN
Present:
Kyle Merritt
Samuel of Salem
Come in later:
James Kellspell
Lord Henry Carlton
Captain Christopher
Five rooms down from us:
Mr. Leonard Rubinstein, drinking Canadian whiskey, smoking a cigar, looking like a fine gangster, watching us via a bridgeplate.
In the building at large:
Unknown amount of Moretr’s Arkabins servicing us and taking care of us.
They have been stationed here a week now.
The Staff Team has finally arrived, I take it.
Unseen by any one of us:
At least 6 Arkchils per each hexagon of space.
Prince Moretr
Melekh Shel Zahav
“So, yes, Samuel, I totally understand you. But sometimes it is a rough tumble.” Kyle takes a pull of his cigarette (he just grabbed a pack of Jim’s red Marlboros).
We are sitting in the classroom, because I was “preparing” him for another chemistry test. Basically, giving him the questions, and then answers. He was to show up for the test when requested, and wait for Jim to come and give him the answers.
If Jim did not have the time to help, then Kyle was to copy the answers from the paper I gave him and turn in his “completed test”.
All of us were instructed to do exactly the same.
I would have called all this get up ridiculous. First, none of us but Jim know chemistry. Second, we are OBVIOUSLY copying answers from papers, provided for us BEFOREHAND by Christopher.
So, who exactly are we kidding or trying to deceive when Prince Moretr is an alien with 360 * worth of eyes and an ability to see a necessary asset without any surveillance?
I would have called it ridiculous. Until I began to suspect that there was more to these make-believe “tests”. There was a deeper meaning. That part came to me much later.
“Oh, I get it, Samuel! October 13 - you are there, you barely had two months to get to know James, when on Christmas Day Lord Carlton and the Circue de Soleil shows up, the hell breaks loose, the Jim you knew for two months is gone, and you were supposed to “get it right”.
We are done “preparing for a chemistry test”. I open up a beer and think of what Kyle said.
I treasure the rare precious moments with him, because he knew James Kellspell when James Kellspell was nothing but a 17 year old drunk on the ideas of Marxism. That was due to the fact that his first man on Level 2 was three times his age and brainwashed him all the way to the core. Hardly fair.
Kyle knows James. They went out for a year, but then he says “he had thirty years to think about it”.
I believe him. James is someone you will think about for the rest of your life.
But the point is, Kyle does not just know James, he also has an opinion. And I’m shocked, intrigued and mystified to hear his opinion.
Now, Kyle does not know James like Leonard Rubinstein. With a great deal of forethought Mr. Rubinstein befriended James’s father about the same year James fell for one American outcast and followed him all the way to Men’s Central of Santiago-de-Chile. Or whatever their prison is called there.
It’s like getting on with the father of Jesus when Jesus was six. Ha-ha. Yeah, that’s funny. That’s why no one here questions Mr. Rubinstein’s judgement. Including James himself.
“Yeah, totally. I honestly had no idea as to what was coming.” I muse on as Kyle breathes deeply and calmly. He is rarely calm. Mostly nervous and uncomfortable. “James wanted to have a family with me. WITH ME. Just with me... And then...” I swallow hard and fight the tears.
“That’s because he did not know that he won the auction. He had to pass all tests first, before he was allowed to know that his deal on the acquisition of the Carlton Branch actually went through.” Kyle puts out his cigarette, staring into the woods beyond.
“Why hundred million dollars? Where did this insane amount come from?”
I drink the rest of my beer all at once. Talking about how much James had to pay for Carlton always brings me down. And it’s not that I’m envious, I just want to know how can you be so shameless? To ask for this much money?
“A Russian saying goes, that you always must “spit farther than your opponent,” Kyle smiles, his gaze turned onwards, probably reliving his salad days with Jim.
“What does it mean?” I wonder if I should try and get to know James better.
I’ve been with James now just three months less than Kyle was with him. And Kyle seems to know a whole lot. Way more than me, after having spent roughly the same amount of time with him. But then, he had “30 years to think about it.”
“He needed to stick it to Marble, that’s what it means. If he was going to take Henry Carlton off the auction, then by God he was prepared to beat all other competition. Marble was, basically, his only main competition besides intermittent BBC. And it takes a really large stick to beat Marble.”
Oh, yeah. I really have not considered the politics.
I want to open another beer when the opening comes to me.
The door swings open, and Lord Carlton walks in his firm, aggressive gait. He snaps his fingers and Christopher puts a sheet of paper in front of me.
“Here you go, Samuel.” Carlton nods for me to read the paper. “Finally we were able to obtain the proof of negotiations, and the fact that Mr. James Kellspell DID HELP Mr. Kyle Merritt get here behind my back! And yours, too, Samuel.”
I look at the paper, and it is a printout of a conversation. I notice that the names of those conversing are marked clearly, and do not appear to be any sort of an internet handle.
“You are going to come in or I will push you in. Then don’t complain about your injuries.” Carlton threatens into the doorway, and James appears slowly dressed in a white shirt, black slacks and a black jacket.
Did Carlton distract him from the studies to have an inquisition court here? And he made Jim change for it to look more official?
“Note, that this conversation lasted for fifteen minutes, but we were only able to obtain the last minute and a half of it. Ask me why.” Carlton orders, while lashing me with a disdainful glance, and pointing to James where to stand.
“Why?” I say in a bland tone.
What does he want from me again?
I’m only dancing to his tune because I signed the partial surrender papers.
“Oh, thanks for asking, Samuel! Because your super-honest James used the channels that actually belong to Leot, and the Arkchil Network would need a permission from his controlling centers first, before they could divulge the information. Due to the secrecy of our mission Leot cannot be contacted. Do you understand, that James Kellspell is holding us all for fools while exploiting enemy interfaces? You still think him to be a clueless little Bambi being assaulted by a big bad wolf with a British flag painted on his back? If anyone is clueless here, it is us!”
Carlton hisses the last sentence right into my face, before retreating to give me room to act.
Before I read, I notice that Kyle went all stiff and pale during Carlton’s speech. What is HE afraid of and why?
PROTOCOL *1042020*
James Kellspell: “Let me explain why, my love. I’m married to Richard II now. He learns of the ex, I face the axe.”
Kyle Merritt: “But you never answered me. When can I see you?”
James Kellspell: “Probably never. All my activities are being monitored, Kyle. Please take this seriously. Do not contact me anymore.”
“Jim, wait. Can you help out my mother?”
“How much?”
“20 grand”
“That’s it? I’l wire the credits. Good luck, my friend. Trotsky over and out.”
I sit there, stunned. I do not remember coming across anything like this! When did he get that past me? I thought I was integrated into his whole system?
“Samuel.” Carlton takes a hold of my shoulder to get my attention, and his grasp is iron. “What do you have to say now?”
“How do we know this is not fake?”
I darned well realize it can’t be fake. Who would want to frame Jim and why? But I must employ the delay tactics.
No matter what James did, I will not be forced against him. Even in my mind. I will stand up for him if only I must keep it to myself.
So later no one can say that I gave up my positions easily...
That I gave up my positions to a man, whose ancestors taxed their peasants within an inch of their life an he took right after those noble asses.
“Oh, nothing is easier!” Carlton lights up with a smile that resembles a lightning in the middle of a storm. Sure, it got brighter, but it only means that the next one will take your head clean off.
“Mr. Merritt!” Carlton stares down Kyle, as if he is already not trembling like a leaf in the wind. “Do you remember contacting Mr. Kellspell exactly one month before you arrived to the Strobulus?”
“Yes, sir, I do. Kyle responds quietly with his eyes down.
“Mr, Merritt, do you remember this particular conversation in which you have asked Mr. Kellspell to help you pay for your mother?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Merritt.” Carlton gives me his half-smile, for an idiot like me does not deserve a full smile.
With that, the jubilant prosecution rests.
I could say that to him, but I am no longer allowed to challenge him openly. I can still do it in my records, though.
“What do you have to say, Samuel?” Carlton presses me relentlessly. He can’t wait to expose me as a blind defender of dirty James, and I feel like I’m out of delaying tactics.
I sigh and turn to James.
“How did you get this past me?” I ask, and do not want to know the answer.
Just to be clear, I don’t even want to be here, and be used by Lord Carlton as a weapon against James.
But everyone is looking at me. I was supposed to monitor all his channels. And I thought I was doing it. Especially after we became “one”, and I could hear his every thought.
“Blackstone protocols. It was not hard.”
He closes his eyes and opens them again. What he is doing is fighting his sexual excitement, feeling guilty for it, and not being able to do a thing.
For Carlton used to leave him bloody for lesser things. And we all know what’s coming.
“Why?” That I do want to know.
Jim does not answer, but takes my hand and squeezes it. His hand is hot. Burning hot.
“Why “Trotsky”, what’s with that reference?” I ask Kyle. Maybe I do not want to know, but I found another filibustering tactic.
I do not want to let Carlton skewer me and make me regret my trust in James.
I ill resist him with everything I have.
James has his secrets and the brains to be able to conceal them, and I do not care.
But Carlton cares.
For all I see Carlton is always on the lookout for a reason to give James another public whipping.
“I gave him that nickname way back when, because it was the only communist besides Lenin that I could come up with in my ignorance. James did not object and it stuck.” Kyle explains just as quietly.
The next one will be Richard II reference. Watch Carlton go thermonuclear.
Now, what Jim is doing is even more interesting.
He is not paying attention to the mock court hearing Carlton started, but has pulled his bridgeplate, and is staring at it.
He whispers something very quietly, while crying with large, constantly flowing tears.
I remember a living room installation like that in some houses. A lamp of sorts with strings attached, and water keeps on flowing down the threads. You remember seeing something like that?
That’s what Jim’s cheeks look like. Someone flipped a switch, and tears flow down his face in an incessant sequence.
Each tear is like a well-cultured and a very carefully sorted pearl: it is uniformly large, translucent, and... lovely.
I tune out Carlton, who goes back to interrogating Kyle, whose facial expression clearly shows that he is so emotionally weak right now that he would confess to killing Jimmy Hoffa just to get it over with.
So, with Carlton distracted with another victim, I move closer to Jim to make out the words he is whispering while looking inside of the bridgeplate.
“Saint...” “Saint...” I hear, and I inch closer, as if Jim is some kind of an exotic, rare bird not to be spooked.
“Saint Sophia...” Jim says a tad louder, as he sobs.
I make one final step to grab a look at the image on his bridgeplate when Kyle suddenly brings a hand to his forehead and collapses off his chair.
James jumps up to help him, and his bridgeplate dissipates.
Montana list:
Water in all my bottles
Tablet (folio)
Semechki
Cigarettes
Zhvachki
Vitamins
Honey: Ambrosia
Vino - 5 units
Salfetki
Sleeping sheets
Mirror
Ruwarb container
Bag of bags (grocery)
Bag of bags (small)
Womens Perfumes - ask Kira if she knows how to open
2 rugs on the floor by the bed for both of us
Gifts for Kira:
Broches
Amazing Grace Perfume
Mens perfume for Joe
Ask Joe about the holdup in the movie dept. in my iPhone
Ask Joe how to back up all files/movies from folio?
How to email a file from NOTES on folio?
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
UTOLIKA BRANCH
WATERFALLS OF HIS MERCY
BROADCASTING
Sing, rejoice little sparrow,
Witness the first spark:
Dawn is sending the arrow
Right in the heart of the dark.
Misty Shield / Brennes Warm
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 35 (+35)
The Orbit Of Compromise
Status: OPEN
Goal:
Needed:
Present:
“Fear, anger and envy are the three main things that get me moving.”
Merion, Jim’s ex,
“Raising Mielada Together”
“Just because those were not happy years for YOU, does not mean that those hard years were not valuable to God.”
Liven Kumlatov of Sheiredis
to Samuel of Salem,
“Sky Over Morrill”.
“Tomo-orow...
I will dispel all your so-orrow!”
James Kellpell,
one of the little songs
he sings every day to Lord Carlton
“. “Good morning,
Last warning!”
Is what I respond in my mind every time James Kellspell sings this song to Lord Carlton. Ahem, because this is what he SHOULD BE singing to him.
“Since WE are The Oculum,
our job is to look at Father.”
Uri Kumlatov Of Sheiredis, from one of his lectures on “Everything you need to know about the world”
I decided to start with the patchwork of quotes that have collected in my records here.
Mainly because right now I’m facing a very tough decision for me.
I must make this decision soon, and I must make the right choice.
And it is killing me.
Ok, heck, back to the quotes.
The last quote by Uri needs to be clarified. It was a complicated lecture. It actually only happened this morning.
“If nothing else,” Uri was finishing in a hurry. “Looking at Father is THE ONLY WAY TO SEE.
For looking at the correct source is the only way to receive information.
If you do not have the correct Source (and only the Original Source can be the Correct Source), then all you get is re-broadcasted, therefore, distorted and garbled protocols.”
“I understand Merion’s language, but it is devoid of meaning. It is dry, drained of spirituality, food for your soul. His language reflects his thinking, which, by Law, is defined by his goals.”
“So, where did humanity go wrong?” I ask, because I need my records to make sense.
“When the humanity allowed “its” ego to set their goals.” Jim started another cigarette and glanced at Carlton, his whole body trembling as he devoured the English Lord with his hungry, passion-crazed eyes.
“What were we supposed to do instead?” Kyle asked, because he received an instruction on his bridgeplate to ask that. He’s only been here a month, and he got versed on AF law and learned how to use a bridgeplate.
Way to go, Samuel Of Minneapolis. I’ve been here since last October, and all I did was make enemies and piss everyone off by objecting to my beloved friend being beaten.
It looks like a brutal police interrogation to any normal person, and no one bothered to tell me that it is, in fact, a foreplay to passionate love making.
I have been struggling with ABCs for eight long, painful months, and Mr. Merritt is suddenly a straight A student here.
“We are supposed to allow GOD, not the machine, determine our destiny.” Kellspell finished and searched Lord Carlton’s face for clues to his mood.
Carlton sat there frowning, with his eyes down. It only meant that he was unhappy, and that meant that Jim was to jump up and prostrate himself in front of Hammersmith Aristocrat, entertain and pleasure him in every way possible.
Which James did immediately, forgetting us and his lecture instantly.
Kyle got back to his studies. He is now enrolled in a Law School. How come no one offered me to enroll in any school?
Let’s continue with the quotes, for in fifteen minutes we all must go to an assignment. And by the end of today I must make a tough, tough decision. It hurts me so, that it had to come to that.
“It is hard for me to go down to their level now, and moo and bark with them.
A life of a God-ignorant muggle! A life of a flattened, 2-D character in a poorly written book.
You know why it was so poorly written? Because the aforementioned Muggle forgot to invite God to help him write it.”
James, obviously, droning on about the life of a common Muggle. He just can’t let go of that one.
He never wanted to be “a common Joe”. He wanted to be SPECIAL in the eyes of God.
Hard to imagine, that HIS REWARD for being so faithful to God for so long was this conceited sadist now sitting on the bed with his back straight and his eyes narrowed in a scornful way, staring down at James, crying on his knees in front of him.
Jim still has the lash mark across his face that he got when Carlton hit him 32 times in 40 seconds with a riding crop. Where did he get the riding crop, anyway?!
So, exactly, what am I looking at and was it worth it for James?
He spent his whole life wanting to please God, and this is what he got. I can write a rap song about it.
Ok, back to the quotes before I lose it, punch the Hammersmith Bride and end up in detention, or something.
Yeah, this one again: “Fear, anger and envy are the main things that get me moving.”
Merion, Jim’s ex,
“Raising Mielada Together”
That is exactly the fuel that moved James. Boy, did he burn through those like a space rocket.
Obviously, I’m lingering on quotes and comments because I can’t focus on anything else.
I’m enraged.
Ok, I will tell you. It burns me to even say it.
I was offered to submit to Lord Carlton.
In fact, I was given a deadline.
As per Lord Carlton, I’m lowering the IQ of the entire street by just being here. As per Mr. Rubinstein, I’m slowing down everyone’s development.
Really? No, REALLY?!
James cried, kissed my hands, and begged me to surrender.
I told him I will leave the mission before I will be another India for the asshole to conquer, and force me to dance to his old-style, deranged tune.
And here is what Mr. Rubinstein has advised. He advised me to say: Lord Carlton, I do not accept your point of view, nor your tactics and strategies, but I do accept your superiority.”
The term in the international law is “partial roll-over”, I believe.
This article is possible to utilize when you have no other choice but to surrender to a stronger power over you, but you could not live with a COMPLETE roll-over.
This article opens the door for partial roll-over terms.
Freedom of my speech is gong to be one of those terms.
They are actually giving me a lot o freedom. I’d hate to call the asshole “sir”, though. He is almost ten years my junior, too.
But it’s better than “my Lord”. It just always cracks me up inside to say it.
Oh, the terms of surrender... Kyle says that the reason I do not feel ready to surrender is because I have not suffered enough.
Kyle, on the other hand, will call the Abominable Snowman “sir” if it gets his mother into Heaven.
* *. *
This afternoon I surrendered to Carlton on those terms.
He accepted it with his regular stiff permanent bitch face and I am allowed to write about it any way I want.
I was not required to get on my knees and kiss his hand, for God’s sake!
Jim was very happy, and the only thing that is required from me from now on is not to challenge Carlton openly, not get between him and Jim no matter what, stop hitting the emergency button almost every day, and never vote against him.
That’s pretty much it, with some other details, and everyone has promised me heartily that under any circumstances I will not be physically assaulted by the grand Bridezilla.
Allright, fuck it, I can live with it.
Who else consulted me on this? Why, you will never guess. Mr. Kyle Merritt. He was offered to go to the law school, with Prince Moretr paying for it.
He will be studying International Law (meaning, Greater Virgo Cluster, not just our dumpy, war-torn AF). How exciting. I’m glad he is gaining his footing with Prince Moretr.
He has hit the books real hard, too. He was happy to be given a task! It’s like he is getting the second wind. He arrived as such an emotional wreck. And look how he has turned around only after a month.
I told Jim that I can step down as his right-hand adviser anytime.
Kyle is now a self-confident, composed student of a prestigious law school, he is polite, reasonable, and well-dressed. He has no problem calling Lord Carlton “sir” and following all his orders.
He also was instructed by Mr. Rubinstein on what to think about Lord Carlton, and not form his own opinion.
A perfect assistant to James!
I, on the other hand, am dressed like Minneapolis hudlum, I find Carlton to be a ridiculous shard of times long gone, and his actions unacceptable.
What do you need me for?
At hearing that James grabbed me and cried for half an hour. He begged me to stay.
He begged me to stay in the following terms (and I do not know if I can live with this):
“Lord Carlton wants you! He thinks you are not completely lost to him. He believes that you can make a turnaround, and become a reliable and a capable servant with just a bit more training!”
So, just like I said earlier, all I am to him (the true spirit of British Empire he is, this fine gentleman) is another colony to conquer. This is how he sees people: you might make a good servant for me. Listen to my instructions, you will learn how to please me, and that will bring sense and purpose to your life.
I honestly have never met anyone who would expect THAT from me.
I’m not sure how to take it.
I’m also not sure that I can get hit with a riding crop across my face and thank Lord Carlton for his remarkable attention to detail while training his perfect slave.
But I also love James more than anything in the world. Is it what Love is all about? The gymnastics for your soul? The ability and willingness to twist into a pretzel to please the one you love?
That’s why Rubinstein is here. So we can always crash at his place when we get overheated on the orbit of Compromise.
* *. *
Estelian terminology for determining the level of the entity during the initial survey of a planet planned for homesteading, mining or other purposes:
Returning proximity to the Original Source:
(blueshift) 1 to 99
(99 is the best possible, there would be mostly entities like Creature of Catacombs of Nasarat, The Opaline Of Kloritahan aboriginal Entity, aboriginal Conscious Tetrahydrofuran gas of Mesmerix of Lar-Mur, Spike-Pressured Mantles Of Andromeda (Level 91), Lierance of Lira (Level 90), then Parallax Hermits Of YBS to the lesser extent (they are only Level 20 or so), and the Kassiopeians (Level 24-25).
Escaping proximity to the Original Source:
(redshift) 99 - 1
(Level 1, where we are. And humans fall under this category. Leot would be Level 11 of Escaping Proximity).
United Hermits Of Parallax Are Level 20 of Returning Proximity, while Lieance Of Lira, being Level 90, may be having an escaping proximity vector.
Spike-Pressured Mantles Of Andromeda (there is only about six of them left, AE process is almost complete), have clearly suffered enough (especially with a bro like Leot), and they are Level 91 of returning proximity vector.
Ri-Fi gas (aboriginal Tetrahydrofuran Of Mesmerix, Lar-Mur) seems to be going in the right direction (blueshift vector),
“Our performance was not sparkling today, please help us improve as a team and as individuals.”
From Jim’s clandestine conversation with Melekh
I’m on
DOD-S-1800
Travel Restrictions
Sign that - you can’t leave the country
Until you file form 1801 and receive approval
My 1801 has not been approved
If I leave the country it’s treason
File 1805 after the project
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 34 (+34)
Once More About Silly Cats
And Karl Marx
Christopher gave me the chemistry test for Mr. Kyle Merritt. I kindly asked Leonard if he could let Kyle go to the classroom while Prince Moretr took James to the park away from all distraction to help him write a solidifying protocol (“protocol against “sliding” in YBS terms).
And the Arkabin doctor took Carlton out for a jog. The latter was in a better mood lately, since he won his supremacy battle over me and Kyle.
I’m “ego-speaking” right now, yes. I just simply do not know how to translate what I feel into Melekh’s Lanuage Of Love. Beats me.
In other words, this afternoon looked great to meet and discuss things.
I mean, I’d love to discuss as to why Kyle voted against James. I know why, because he’s got himself in a political vice. But does it keep him up at night?
Kyle is sitting at the desk right behind the first one, always occupied by James.
He looks down and mumbles to himself a lot. He has done it three times since he sat down fifteen minutes ago, waiting for me to prepare his papers.
In the mumbling I made out that he doubts himself, second-guesses himself and those he loves, and says apologetic things.
He comes across not just as shy and timid, but also mentally fragile to put it mildly. I do not know what James saw when they dated thirty years ago, but this is what we have arrived to.
And what do I care? I think his mental state is the reason why he passed the test (just about, he told me, he had 63% in, and it took Melekh close to a year to pull him through with the rest 37%.
Kyle passed the test, and the insane, bleeding, tormented Isaak did not. Isaak was not done struggling. Therefore he had not suffered enough.
Kyle looks like he just gave up. But maybe it is a front. I can’t see people from the inside, like James does.
“Here we go, Mr. Merritt. These are your questions.”
“Question 1: Which silicate minerals would contain iron?” Kyle reads, squinting behind his large prescription glasses. “Question 2: Tell us more about iron in tectosicate minerals.”
I nod and enjoy his bewildered face.
“What is this? Have I ever told anyone I was a brilliant geologist?!” Kyle looks at me over his glasses, and he is miserable.
“Your wrath is justified!” I smile encouragingly. “And this is chemistry, by the way.”
“Oh, I figured it out right away!” Kyle spreads his hands with the paper in his right hand, and his glasses in the other. “Because I’m such a genius of a geologist! And a chemist, too! Have they gone nuts, Samuel?”
“That’s what I said!” I nod and let him go off on that. After all, I did exactly the same thing, just DURING the test. Maybe the wisest thing is to prepare people first.
Having let out his steam, Kyle puts back his glasses and rereads questions.
“Silicate minerals... What is silicate minerals? Silicate. Silly cat... what can I say about iron in tecto silly cat?”
I love how his brain found a way out of a painful situation. He seeks to turn it into a joke. Funny. Smart. Works. But I can’t just let him get away with not talking about the large white elephant in the room.
“I know you would like to stay neutral, and Mr. Rubinstein is squeezing your balls, and all that political bullshit...” I begin as carefully as I can. “But tell me honestly, right now, what do you think about Carlton?”
Kyle sighs and lowers his head. He does not look like he wants to get involved.
You know what I say? I say your ass got yourself “involved” when you sent your new resume to James five years ago. Why did you do that if you did not want “to get involved”?
“Oh, I definitely think he is of nobility.” Merritt answers slowly.
I did NOT see it coming! I thought I had him cornered!!!
There is no way he could say ANYTHING nice about Lord Carlton now that he witnessed the latter attack James at least twice in the month since Kyle arrived!
“Oh, really?” I feel anger bubbling within, and by God I know I’m not to drink that bitter goblet!
Only I can’t stop.
“So, what is “nobility” in your understanding?”
Kyle dared to call Carlton “nobility”! I’m pissed. I’m very upset, even as I asked him myself and urged for the truth!
Now I contest his truth. And then I never give him a chance to respond. For I’m boiling over like a forgotten tea kettle.
“The nobility that would hunt in their woods, whip their peasants into submission, and not let those peasants cut the wood for their dwelling and children? These are Carlton’s ancestors, the British nobility! Have they ever cared about their subjects, and their servants’ wives and kids and stuff?!”
Mannn... Why did I say all this?! Who pulled my tongue? I am only here to give Kyle his test on chemistry!
Now HE has got to be pissed, and he will tattle-tale on me to Mr. Rubinstein!
“You sound like Jim.” Kyle stares at the chemistry questions on the paper in front of him.
Really? Bullshit.
“How do you know what Jim sounds like?”
“We dated for a year.”
Oh yeah. Right.
“You think that you know that James loves Carlton more than anything.” Kyle surprises me by lighting a cigarette. His dossier said he did not smoke.
“Yes, regretfully.” I realize how much I have already given up to a man I only knew for a week, I try to use short, definitive sentences instead of pouring him my soul or attacking him for his opinions.
“And you are wrong.”
Am I wrong? I look pensively into the woods where Prince Moretr took our James. The last thing I heard him saying to James in his deep baritone with a thick Hebrew accent was “There is no time to turn chicken now, my boy. I will pay you double for your trouble.”
Am I wrong? Let’s see if I am wrong. Is he implying that there is another love interest James has besides Carlton? Not that Carlton did not suspect it all along...
“Tell me more.” I must hold out this one. Please give me strength not to talk incessantly about my pain, because I found an ear to bend. It is the last way to find out what valuable info other people might have.
“We would walk in the park hand in hand, James would look at me, but talk about him.” Merritt takes a pull on his cigarette and let me think about it.
“He reached out for my lips, but would say his name.”
“Let me guess, you would have sex, but he’d imagine him instead of you?”
“How the heck would I know what he imagined?” Kyle breaks into a shy smile. “No, we never went that far. But that’s what probably would happen, yes.”
“So, what is his name?” I prompt Merritt.
Drop a bombshell. Who is it? Do we know him? What is Lord Carlton going to do when HE finds out?!
“Come closer, would you?” Kyle nods with a mysterious face.
And I do. I feel stupid, because he leads me on, and I know it. Is he going to say “Gordon”?
Kyle leans over to my ear while moving his hand with a cigarette away from my face. “His name is Karl Marx.”
* * *
“The year was 1991. It was a hard year for me. I was questioning the good of this world, I was questioning myself and my sexuality, and I was questioning God.”
I sit back and forget why I invited him to this classroom. Something about chemistry. Iron in silicate minerals, here we go. Silicate. Silly cat. How funny that was.
But I must use this amazing, unique opportunity to look into Jim’s past with the eyes of someone who was actually there. See, this may be the real reason for us to be here. And chemistry is just a pretext.
“Not long after that, as it goes, skipping a few private events in my life, I met this young homosexual Russian socialist. To say that the kid was on fire, is to say nothing.” Kyle puts his hands behind his head, bending and stretching his back, while staring at the evening sky.
“Was he hot?” Yeah, I want to know!
“Maybe. He was wild. But his mind was on fire, that’s for sure.” Merritt sighs and puts out his cigarette. “We talk about nobility,” he walks back from the backyard through the sliding door of the classroom. “... but the James that I know would not be found dead among the nobility of any kind.”
“Maybe capitalism is overrated.” I suggest.
“Jim has been working your mind.”
“We never talked about it!”
“So I see.”
“Where IS James?”
“Oh, he is in the woods with Moretr.” I pointed in the general direction where I last saw James and Moretr disappear. “He is working on the protocol that will prevent “sliding” I made a downwards motion with my palm. “It is a YBS term for pointing that a Hermit has a hard time achieving new level of consciousness, because they stop listening to God’s instructions, distracted by the kerfuffle on lower levels.”
“So, what do I need to study to get answers to these chemistry questions?”
“You do not need to study. Here are your answers. Note, that there is no iron in tectosilicate minerals.”
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 33 (+33)
“Where were you spending your summers? Your childhood smells like honey-bearing flowers in the heat of mid-July sun.”
James, whispering this into Carlton’s ear as he was making love to him..
While I sat on the floor in the same bedroom with my back to the wall right by Carlton’s closet full of posh garments.
And then James is surprised when he hears me spewing out Sheiredi sayings and wisdoms.
It’s because after you witness such intimate, passion-soaked revelations of someone you love, when they are not saying it TO YOU...
You find comfort in the hands of someone else. Even knowing that you can’t have any meaningful affair with a sentient alien up to his ears in political strife and in a weird relationship with his mother.
I’m talking about Liven Kumlatov. He was assigned to take care of me in the hottest moments of our drama. Like the night after Carlton whipped Jim within an inch of his life, and Kyle asked me never to vote against Leonard again.
That turned me inside out so much I wished I either died or was removed from the mission.
The Hammersmith arse has been beating the shit out of the man I love, getting ever more vicious day by day, and I’m the one WHO IS BEING WARNED OFF?!!
“So, I fucked up real bad with my Samuel. Bitches be crazy, seriously...”
“My Prince, oh...” James holds on to his left bottom jaw. “My tooth hurts so bad, and we must go to the five day field trip!”
And then catching a moment to touch noses with him, an intimate touch, a clandestine sniff. I am learning the dog language with James. Whatever works.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 32 (+32)
In The Twilight
The Gem Shines The Brightest
As long as everyone agrees
That all we see is all there is,
The ego will devour and seize.
A Sheiredi wisdom
“Ok, go on. Then what happened?” Jim’s voice is his regular low and hoarse, but now it is trembling with barely concealed excitement.
“Then he grabbed you, pushed you, you fell. He picked you up and dragged you out. I could not see anything at that point, but I could darn well hear everything.”
“U-huh, and when did he hit me across my face?” With a trembling hand James touches a healing scar that replaced an ugly wound only 24 hours later. Everything happens faster on Level 2.
“Oh... that must have been after he dragged you out, because I do not remember him hit you with a riding crop in the classroom.”
Jim’s hungry eyes meet mine. “Did he look gorgeous when he pushed me out? Was he stunning in his unbridled strength and his incredible power?”
What am I supposed to respond to that?!
I spent the night crying because I hate the fucking Hammersmith paranoid psychopath, and I’m supposed to agree that he “looked stunning” when he very nearly beat my friend to death?
“Then who called the security? That must have been Leonard, for he is the only one who has access to the calling code of Prince Moretr private guard.” James gets pensive. “It could not have been Kyle. He was not here long enough to gain any authority.”
I stare at the floor while James goes through the mental list of names of those who dared to interrupt Lord Carlton’s “thing”.
“It could also be Christopher. His bridgeplate would give him a calling code to Stelarius-on-the-Sea... Man, I’ll never know, or I’d ask them not to do it again...”
“Like a gold leaf clings to a dome of a temple, I cling to my Lord Carlton for a defining shape, Samuel! I would be criminally foolish not to take his lessons when he wishes to give them to me, for he is great and he knows greatness. If I want greatness, I must drink it at his feet.”
“Because they understand that when your heart is not filled with love, it will do you no good filling your stomach with food and your nostrils with cocaine...” James drifts off.
“Who, who on Earth understands that, Jim?” Certainly not where I am!
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 31 (+31)
46 Steps Back To God
“Father, please guide me
So I do not let “my” ego
Use me as a weapon.”
A common Sheiredi interface prayer
We had a horrendous fight. And I mean it. James locked US ALL OUT for 8 (eight!) hours while he basically held out inside with “his” ego.
He was going to do what “his” ego wanted hail, wind or high water on the issue of recycling.
Ahem.
The best of causes take the best of us.
I lost to Carlton. I was outvoted.
I was outvoted, because, apparently, Leonard gave Kyle a right to vote, and then instructed him how to vote.
Jim still needs help walking. He was dragged out of the classroom and whipped with a riding crop.
Exactly what my vote was trying to prevent.
I collapsed right after I hit the emergency THREE TIMES (our ultimate MAYDAY), as I could no longer take the sound of the riding crop lashing Jim’s body, and his hoarse screams.
I could not believe I was witnessing all this (actually just hearing it coming from the hall) with absolutely no way to help the man I truly love.
40 seconds later Prince Moretr’s Arkabins showed up.
By then Carlton managed to hit James 32 (thirty two) times. I counted every single one on the Arkchil tape later.
Thirty two times. To catch his breath Carlton only took four two second breaks.
Can you imagine being that mad? I can’t. I simply can’t.
Defending James, I went after Carlton. Carlton hit me with the Covenant. It hurt profoundly, because Jim really was in violation.
Maybe, he needed to be taken down by force. Maybe he did put our mission in danger by standing up to H.M., and holding his position for eight hours.
I just wished Carlton was not so physically cruel and morally unrepentant about it.
However, not everyone was left in the dust.
Mr. Rubinstein showed up in a long black shirt with golden adornments on it, which suddenly made him look like a respected person of authority.
I was not used to seeing him this way. Normally I’d see him outside, in his grey coat, and then inside in a jacket and jeans. Of all the times he comforted me, he never let me feel his apparently high rank here.
Leonard Rubinstein snapped his fingers and surprised us all by matter-of-factly (!) ordering around the aforementioned group of burly Arkabins (aliens, people, he controlled ALIENS!)
These gentlemen took down Carlton with his riding crop soaked in Jim’s blood, broke us apart like a bunch of kindergarten children, and, guided by Leonard, provided us with medical and psychological assistance.
Then the Arkabin doctor (not the cute young one that came to Carlton) shot bleeding Jim with a drug that made him pass out instantly for the next four hours.
Somewhere between that and the luscious sunset Carlton grabbed my fragile person by the collar of my very inexpensive shirt, and pinned me to the wall.
“How dare you vote against my decision?!” He hissed in his disturbed pressure cooker manner, but l at that particular moment I had no strength or desire to make fun of him.
As the Arkabin medical personnel were attending to Jim’s multiple lash wounds, at least one across his entire face (!), and my heart bled for him, I swore to myself that it was going to be very different between me and the Hammersmith Aristocrat from now on.
Boy, was I right. But not exactly the way I planned.
“Isn’t it what voting is all about?” I asked him, looking directly into these royal, privileged, shameless eyes. My grief was overwhelming, and I had nothing left to lose.
I thought that was a nice comeback with all others equal. How dare you voting against me? That’s what voting is all about! Otherwise you are just implying that this is monarchy. With a nice kangaroo court at its center.
And if I’m wrong about that, then how could EVERYONE vote to have Jim whipped within an inch of his life?!
Kyle, too?! The sweet, the timid one, as Jim would describe him.
Leonard? What happened to Leonard attending to his “Krista”?
God Almighty! What am I missing?!
But today was just not my day. Carlton barely waited for me to stop talking so he could slap me with a question that intensified my sorrow.
“Do you know who you are dealing with?”
Pinned to the wall by a six foot two furious man who had just viciously beaten my dear friend, I knew the answer.
“A sick pervert who enjoys to see people suffer?”
Carlton narrowed his eyes and shook me some more, like a piggy bank, when you do not like to hear too few coins inside.
Seems like, if you shake it really well, the louder sound will indicate more coins...
I deliver on that premise.
“Oh, I know! An arrogant homicidal cutthroat?”
“No, Samuel.” Carlton’s face is suddenly calmer, and his lips stretch in a “I pity you so much” half-smile. “Do you know who James Kellspell really is?”
He releases me, and being released feels incredibly good.
“A God’s man? An inventor of a new science?” I take in a lungful of air. “A lover I share with a conceited English lord?”
“He is a habitual liar! He is playing you, Samuel! You need to wake up and get on with the program.”
I have been here seven months.
And you are telling me I have not “gotten on” with the “program”?
My notes in italics, influenced by the channel we now share:
Jim and the peregrines (that would be us to him).
What I think about myself: “Why is James with me? I’m just another old, forgotten Jew.”
What Jim thinks about me: “Ohh! A Jew! I get to be with an Ashkenazi Jew! How exotic! How exciting!”
What Carlton thinks ( he expresses his incessant jealous paranoia at least once a week): “James is going to cheat on me with someone younger, more capable, more talented... Why would he want me, when he could afford so much more!”
What James thinks about Carlton: “Ohh! British nobility! I get to be with a blue-blooded, blue-eyed gorgeous “fat cat”! How exotic! How exciting!”
And then he concludes, rubbing his hands together, and maybe jumping up and down a tad: “Ohh! Exotic peregrines! I get to fuck all these cool, lovely men!”
The way we think about ourselves as opposed to what he thinks about us. Yeah, that is a big topic all by itself.
I’m beginning to collect a lot of data on it ever since we share a channel. An Arkchil channel that allows me to see his mind.
Sometimes tragic, always contemplative, often hilarious, never boring. Oh, stuff he thinks about other people! I once almost peed my pants listening to his internal monologues.
I think I’m beginning to see why he chews on the same neurotoxin-laced frog as we all (I mean the thought of the inevitable old age), but feels no effects of the deadly poison.
And this is why.
In his pre-birth programming he left the “connection to body” clause as just an option, as opposed to a necessity, like the rest of us.
James feels no effects of aging, for “aging” is only for a body, not soul. He sees his body as an actor’s get up, nothing more. He experiences no emotional torment over growing old, because you can always get another shirt.
“Please tell me, Jim, is it true? What Lord Carlton told me about you, is it true?”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 30 (+30)
Uri (tone: code: )
“In other words, never, NEVER take the advice of the ego-device!” Uri swung Jim’ stabilizer across the map of ancient Roman Empire. “The advice of the ego-device will ONLY AND EVER lead to your pain and suffering. Only and ever come for advice to God!”
Uri returns the thin copper stick of a stabilizer to James by putting
“And why is that?” I ask, because I’m burning inside. I need my answers. Isn’t it what school is for? To receive your answers?
“Because James is going to be a well-designed, well-balanced healing tool that they can safely copy. Or, in scientific terms, the sequence they can repeat. He will be the prototype for all future spiritual healers.”
U-huh, how does that explain his black eye?
You do not need to speak with a Grehedi. They can read your mind about ten minutes before you formed that question of yours.
They can see the logical paths that you use, and where thy lead. Makes it very easy on us. All we need to do is think of it, and a few days later, after combing through the Arkchil records of ALL our activity, including the thought process, voila, they give you an answer.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 29 (+29)
Melekh called James out of the classroom, where he studied, and we were bickering.
Normally, Jim would have gone alone, or just with me, but there were noises coming from the front door of the compound. None of us ever use that door, only Leonard sometimes sweeps the entrance driveway from pine needles and leaves and stuff.
Now there is a whole lotta kerfuffle on that driveway, and that made Carlton follow us out of the classroom. Tormented by curiosity, but unable to break away from James even for a second, the Hammersmith Diva sent his faithful butler Christopher to see what is going on.
James: “Kellspell and Mates at your service, my Prince!”
Melekh (speed: slow code: ) “Let’s test your new stabilizer, James.”
James lights up and stretches out his freshly obtained stabilizer: Ready to receive your orders, and hear better with this device! Do you want me to learn to hear with my nose? I can do that, my most beloved Prince!”
Carlton watches James suspiciously, because to him James is talking to something imaginary. Most if the time the miserable bastard can’t see Melekh. Or Moretr for that matter. Therefore he dislikes both. Reject what we do not understand. Perfect ego-strategy Of dealing with the unknown, and unseen.
“Why is Moretr here?” Carlton whispers to me as James names the smells he receives through the stabilizer.
“Because I had to hit the emergency button.” I explain patiently. It’s been three days since that memorable event, but only roughly one day and one night by Andromeda Federation standard day (36+36).
The noise down the hall intensifies.
Carlton: “Why did you have to hit the emergency?” Carlton looks into that long hall that leads to the front door in search of his Christopher.
“Why did you have to hit Jim in the face?” I respond very quickly.
“Are you mocking me?!” Carlton loses it very quickly.
“No!” I watch James clap his hands jubilantly and nod to Moretr, for he must have received the info via the smell in the stabilizer.
“Then why are you smiling?” It does not take Carlton long to start sounding like a pissed off pressure cooker.
“Lord Carlton, I hate to break it to you, but I’m paid to smile!”
The Hammersmith ass backs off. That sent him spinning.
James: “Henry, Samuel, pease stop fighting and give me three steps back.” James spreads his hands showing us that he needs room. “I’m going to clear the field for the next test...”
Both me and the asshole make three steps back and dive right back into the murky waters of our petty quarrel.
I totally see where “my” ego (or just the mis-programming I have in my mind) is pushing me.
I just can’t stop, because this man totally infuriates me.
Carlton: “Rumor has it that James paid for Kyle’s mother?! I thought he was only supposed to pay for MY MOTHER!”
Here we go again. He exhausted one topic, hit the dead end in another, but he lives to drive us all crazy. Therefore there will always be a topic to fight about.
However, I’m not even going to regard THIS ONE with an answer. Because, obviously, Carlton is THE ONLY ONE IN THIS WORLD WHO HAS A MOTHER AND LOVES HER.
Kyle Merritt has no right to want his mother saved the way Carlton’s parents will be. We are going to be pigs about this. Oink-oink.
James: “Yes my Prince. Ready to test the second feature. Can I have the stabilizer’s name and serial number for the Arkchil Record?”
A-and the long-awaited footsteps.
Comes Captain Christopher.
Christopher: “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the journalists are about to break through! I don’t think those front doors are made to withstand this much pressure!”
A second of stunned silence is interrupted by a comment that is well worth our little gig here.
James: “That’s why they are called “press”!” James says in a businesslike tone and continues setting up his new stabilizer.
“Journalists?!” Lord Henry Carlton exclaims much like a person in a confined place who just a hit a shelf or such with their head. Man, just did not see this one coming, did ja?
“Why are there journalists there?” He goes after me. He has a lot of “whys” today, and they all are somehow addressed to me.
But I have answers for the bloke here. I can help.
“Because of Kyle” I say and watch his face get literally bleached with fury.
Carlton: “They did not show up when I ARRIVED!”
Oh, he had that one coming for so long
“That’s because no one got punched in the face when you arrived!” I retort, and immediately feel the sting of regret.
I hit him too hard. He is now inconsolable. He figured out his mistake. So much valuable time lost.
The paparazzi could have been here much sooner if he started beating Jim up RIGHT AWAY!
“What is your problem, Samuel?!l Carlton took a step towards me and s now hissing this into my face with his fists clenched, quickly turning white as snow.
“Touch me and I will give you the eye make up you will be explaining to your wife!” I say with a polite, even sweet smile.
The furious ass backs off.
Here you go. Nothing will stop him like a threat of his wife finding out anything. Like him meddling with other men.
“Sh-h-h, you guys! I’m speaking to Melekh! I’m speaking HIS LANGUAGE!”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 28 (+28)
A Ray Of Light That Hit The Dark Kingdom
“When your torment is thick and your faith is thin,
This is the time to stand up to the machine.
Then, struggle and rip your chain!
Enter the Age Of No Pain.
Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”
“Leot was happy playing with his dumb Grehedis. But then it all went down the shitter, when Arzadellin showed up. He was the pill to the sick, and the light to the dark.”
Uri walks there and back past Christopher in his heavy steps, and Christopher’s bridgeplate glows brighter every time Uri passes close.
“Leot knew that he could not prevent Arzadellin’s arrival, because it hit the isotropic surface of time. He did not know how, or by whom Arzadellin was ushered in, all he could do was damage control: intercept all three of Arzadellin’s ships, and contain the threat.
And he did exactly that, my undisciplined lot!”
We are having a lecture on the history of Andromeda Federation because there is nothing else in the schedule for us.
But why is Uri here, then?
I hit the emergency button this morning that’s why. I did it when we were gathered here in this classroom.
“So, Arzadellin did not achieve his goal?” Kyle asks very quietly. He is such a timid soul. I have no idea how he will be able to continue to take hell from Carlton.
“Yes, he did.” Uri smiles proudly. A human smile looks grotesque on his spotted and patterned Sheiredi face. “He paid with his life for it, but he became the ray of light in the dark kingdom of Leot’s mind, where we are all stuck.”
I steal a look at Carlton. He pretends to write something down after Commander Cumlatov, but I know better. His face is sullen and the glances he casts about are resentful.
“Leot could not do better than drink the Wine of Truth himself to conceal it from his Grehedis. He swallowed and digested everything Arzadellin was.” Uri exhales in a way that speaks volumes.
To them this is venerated history. To us here - it is future. Time Paradox and seashell effect in action for you.
“He spent between twenty and eighty years (depending on your source) together with Arzadellin, plus the results of the autopsy, which is a very different process from what you have here. We have a more thorough process of extracting the information from a body.”
I study Uri’s face and he meets my eyes. Sheiredis are even more intensely psychic than the Grehedis. I want to know what he knows, this winged sentient alien, but then I get filled to the brim with the deepest sadness in Uri’a eyes.
He is here to prepare the Martyr and his team. To them it had already happened fifty million years ago.
Oh, like blood the air still smells
Where you took me down at the United Wells.
James is their Martyr.
“Anyhow, Leot was cornered. So he drank the wine to hide it. He became dizzy on the Light Of The Original Source, and it, then, percolated to all of his Grehedis, for they are just one mind.”
This lecture is fascinating all by itself. But the reason Uri went down the memory lane to entertain us, was because Hammersmith arse went after Kyle during the morning briefing.
Kyle turned out to be just as timid, innocent and defenseless as Jim had described him. As soon as Carlton hissed at him, he fell apart and almost cried.
I had to step in and defend the poor guy. But since this whole pattern is ego-directed path to conflict, and humans are proven to fall to it every time, I hit the emergency button for Uri Cumlatov.
He was here two hours later.
Oh, like blood the air still smells
Where you took me down at the United Wells”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 27 (+27)
Your Laughter Is Worth Going After...
This is what James sings to Carlton almost every morning.
The irony here rests in such deep layers that no one can ever accuse ME of “laying it on a little thick”.
Let me tell you this while Uri stepped out, and his people entertain and distract the Hammersmith Aristocrat so he does not break into this classroom every fifteen minutes with yet another ruse to get to exhausted, studying James.
Carlton never laughs. He does not even smile. Ever.
The only time he smiles is when his disdain for you ovewhelms his royal person. Then his lips just stretch. And his permanent bitch face gets a shade of utmost contempt.
Then you feel even stupider, because IN HIS EYES you are not even worth a full smile.
So you walk away, unworthy. Especially this hurts late at night. He just WANTS you to cry yourself to sleep.
What a sick, mentally screwed bastard.
Oh, why am I writing about HIM again?! I desperately fell down the vortex of his scornful charisma.
How can’t Jim see any of this?! How come he hasn’t had enough of this bullshit already?
Ok, here I am, listening to the voice of “my” ego, agreeing with the machine, and here we go down the drain. I become confrontational when I listen to the venom-laced ego-whispering.
I’m supposed to go through some of Jim’s childhood Arkchil records, but the brouhaha two days ago still cuts me deep. So deep that I can’t focus on my task.
And THE ONLY way out of this painful labyrinth of recent memories IS conflict-seeking. How else am I supposed to deal with the man who assaulted my beloved partner?!
“James!”
“Yes, my love.” Kellspell is working on some incomprehensible chemistry. Uri will be back momentarily to see Jim’s progress, and I know I’m no better than Carlton right now. Distracting James from work for my own selfish reasons.
See how quickly we become what we hate?!
“When are you going to put down your foot as far as the problem that we have with Lord Carlton?”
I am eager to stir the pot. As per URI’s lectures It’s conflict-seeking behaviour.
Why am I seeking conflict?
It’s all because I agree with “my” ego that Hammersmith bastard needs to be punished for his actions! Do you?!
“The bismuth-phosphate process was used to extract plutonium from irradiated uranium, taken from nuclear reactors.”
Jim dictates into the bridgeplate, now with its colors brighter, especially the burgundy on the edges.
I noticed that the bridgeplates are brighter when one of the Andromedans shows up. But then Melekh is not an Andromedan. Ok, take it back. When one of the “adults” shows up.
“What problem with Lord Carlton, Samuel?”
Oh, God please give me strength not to slap him into reality.
Here I am wanting to hurt James already. We become what we hate. How? How am I being run in
“The problem with Lord Carlton’s temper that gave you a black eye!”
That, for one. And then it’s Carlton’s insane jealousy, don’t forget.
Where IS his mind? Why is it not seeing that Jim is being used and pushed around, often physically?
“The bismuth phosphate process involves taking the irradiated uranium fuel slugs and removing their aluminum cladding.”
“Oh, that?” Jim smiles feverishly at the memory, interrupting his dictation. He rubs his right eye where Carlton hit him when he found out that his old flame Kyle had arrived to our secret compound.
“It’s almost gone...” James’s eyes go inside of himself, reliving the ugly scene in the kitchen. Carlton punched James in the eye when he learned that Jim’s old boyfriend was on the premises.
James fell against the pantry door, and Carlton then proceeded to kick him in the kidneys (!) in his normally ruthless manner while I yelled at bewildered Kyle in the hall to return under Mr. Rubinstein’s protection, and slammed the door in his face.
Partly because I lost it, and partly because the burning shame dictated me to keep our family problems private.
And, partly due to lack of desire to clean up Kyle’s blood, too. He did not look like I guy who could take Carlton’s heavy fist. Or anyone’s for that matter.
“I’m still very emotional every time I look at you, James!” I say as diplomatically as I can.
“Oh, it’s been three days!” James comes to reality, and rubs himself between his legs.
“Are we ever going to talk about what Carlton did to you? When it was not your fault? It was outside of your control! You did nothing for Kyle go get here. But Carlton ACCUSED you of lying to him, he beat you up, because he believed you helped Kyle secretly!”
“Ohh...” Jim breaks away from the bridgeplate and rubs himself more, now with his eyes rolled. “Yeah! Did you see his face? He was berserk! He looks so extremely handsome when he is enraged...”
No! I did not see his face! I was busy explaining to the newcomer that his best bet to see tomorrow is get out of Carlton’s way today.
“I know you want my attention, sweet Samuel...” James smiles serenely at me, his lips stretching in a sappy, love struck smile. “But, regretfully, I must study!”
“WHAT? No! That’s not what I meant!!” I’m shocked that he’d even think that!
“Then why did you bring up the fight in the kitchen? Henry was so mad, that I came as I was laying on the floor...”
The footsteps in the hall, low voices. Uri is coming.
Oh, is that what happened? James received the ultimate sexual satisfaction as a six foot ten giant was beating him into a pulp with every large, deadly appendage he had.
I actually remember it!
“When is Gordon coming?” Carlton hissed over poor James on the floor.
It would have been funny, because belligerent Carlton hissed as loud as a hot pressure-cooker.
But it was not funny to me. After every time Carlton would kick James, he would explode even louder.
“You cheating piece of shit! Who else is coming?” Carlton hissed, while I sent Kyle on his way to save him from the grotesque scene.
“I am coming... Henry...” James moaned as he squeezed his body into a tight fetal position and froze like that with his face pushed into the floor and away from us.
Oh, I get it now. He warned us he was coming, and he did.
Shocking. Unimaginable. Terrifying.
“The axiom states, that there is no one but God and You, His Child. Therefore your decision to hurt another person is the ego-subconscious programming that indicates your deep entanglement in the desire to hurt God.”
“Then what the heck do we do? How do we stop the war?” That’s Uri’s voice. It gives me shivers most of the time.
“Lift up that faulty wire, Uri, look into the eyes of the Truth, wake up from the short-circuit that is tormenting you.”
That’s Melekh. He is here! Why?
Oh, wait, I hit the emergency ping after James burst into the kitchen with his eyes wide with fear, whispering: “Samuel! Kyle is here!!! I just went out to smoke, and I saw him with Leonard!!!”
“Are you sure?” I whispered, too, while we were completely alone in the kitchen, but for the salad on the table I was making as a reconciliatory gift.
After all, it’s been thirty years since Jim saw Kyle last.
“It’s Kyle, Samuel!! Completely gray and hunching, but clearly him. Just as sweet and mild, like spring in my motherland.”
He noticed or sensed all the way at Mr. Rubinstein’s unit almost three hundred feet away?
“Yes, Samuel... I’m so dead, so dead... Henry. He does not know yet...”
I took James by his shoulders, and his body was soaking wet. Sweat was pouring down his neck and under the collar of his shirt.
This is where I hit the emergency. Then, or seconds after I heard Carlton’s voice in the hall calling for James, wanting to know why he escaped from their backyard.
Here he is, sitting here, all bruised up now, reliving the rush of an imminent attack by his venerated partner.
I’m basically mapping his mentality now, and pieces are falling into their places, creating a bizarre, weird, terrifying personal tragedy of epic proportions.
“‘Ego-programming is the short-circuit that brought this Universe to life, Uri. It is a short-circuit in My Mind. Very painful to experience for all of us. But it takes only One particle to awaken completely to start a chain reaction of Awakening within the shirt-circuit. Once the One sees that by hurting others you are hurting Yourself, therefore Me, the Age Of No Pain will begin.”
“What about feeling insignificant? As if everything is in vain, and no one will ever care if I even existed?”
“That is a sign of being asleep very deeply. The deeper and away from Me you are, the closer you are to the ego-program that poisons you by thoughts like this. The more effort you make to Awaken, meaning, replace the old thinking with the new one, the better about yourself you will feel.”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 26 (+26)
Out Of The Dark And Into The Grace
Status: Open
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 24 (+24)
is on the tablet
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 25 (+25)
Digging Through Jim’s Closet Of Skeletons
“Yes, and that was in the beginning of 90s, Henry! I used to actually READ those messages from Gordon then. But they were not messages to me personally. I was just on the list of people he was updating about his life and stuff. As if I cared!”
“How did you get on GORDON’s mailing list to begin with?” Carlton presses his lips together, while drilling a hole in James with his stare.
The Arkabin doc, meanwhile, is waiting for Carlton outside.
THAT is unnerving to all of us, not just Carlton.
Carlton is late. But the points for insubordination will be taken off all of us as a team.
For the sign says “Kellspell & Mates”. Not “Lord Carlton The Resplendent One”. Kneel and worship his friggin’ Majesty Santannica Pandemonia.
Carlton would love that.
But it is not like that. The Arkabin outside is not here to discipline us. He is here to relieve Carlton’s issues by introducing physical exercise. However, it will be reported to Moretr that Santannica Pande... I mean, Lord Henry Carlton was ten minutes late for his jog. It will soon be twenty, because our fight is only starting, with no end in sight.
You’d think Carlton started it, for he gets bored if we do not fight with him, or about him at least three times a day. And he is extremely jealous over the long list of Jim’s ex-boyfriends. Some of whom are still friends with Jim. There is always a reason to be pissed at Jim, then.
But not today. He did not start this one.
It was me.
Well, I did not mean to. I came to the bedroom, James was studying alone, not counting Christopher monitoring his bridgeplate, but he does it when he’s told and where he’s told.
He stands there and listens to voices in his head that appear as soon as he sinks his hand into dark, but warm colors of his bridgeplate. We are not to pay attention to him, and he is not to pay attention to us, no matter what we do.
And this is where I burst into the scene with “Hey James, what’s with Gordon sending you messages?” I kind of wanted to know if THAT VERY Gordon was one of his exes.
Ahem, if I knew what was coming! I should have bitten my tongue off instead.
“WHEN were you going to tell me that you fucked Gordon Of Summer?!” Carlton advances at James and then stares him down. The sun hits Jim’s pleading eyes as he raises his hands in a gesture half way out of defense and into apology.
“I DID NOT fuck Gordon, Henry, I was just on the SAME list he sends messages to ALL his friends!”
“How the fuck did you get on the list of friends of GORDON OF SUMMER, AND managed to stay on it for thirty years?!”
He accentuates Gordon’s name so much. As if it is a big deal. I, for one, don’t care if he was Gordon of Winter. Or any other season for that matter.
But it matters to Carlton. Because he senses competition.
“Can we deal with this later, Henry? The doctor has been waiting for you. We are going to get it for breach of discipline.”
“Answer my question!” Carlton hisses. He has an amazing capacity of tuning out anything he does not like hearing, and then pushing others to hear everything HE has to say.
“For the umptieth time, Henry, there was nothing ever between me and Gordon! Gordon is straight, Henry!!!”
Oh, for the love of God, even if there was anything between them, it was thirty years ago!
“How did you get on the private list of his closest friends, then?!”
I kind of wanted to know that, too. The man is a wealthy mover and shaker in London. It is not an easy feat to get on his mailing list.
“Because I was in the SANE GATHERING with him! We hung IN THE SAME GROUP of folks at “Bene Gesserit’s” thirty years ago, Henry! In the beginning of nineties, Henry!”
James pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights up one with shaking hands. Right in the bedroom. He says Carlton’s name a lot when he needs to calm him down. He pronounces it like he handles the most tender of roses.
Enough to melt your heart. Mine, too. Just not Carlton’s.
“How the fuck did you get to hang with Gordon’s friends IN THE BEGINNING OF NINETIES??!”
Carlton swings the sliding door open with vengeance, and the smoke of Jim’s cigarette drifts out, or, rather, escapes hastily, in the direction of the massive doc Arkabin.
As if we are mocking him, or something. I can imagine him delivering the following report to Moretr: “My Prince, today the insecure and psychotic Kellspell Kindergarten-r-us fought over jealousy issues. They were late for jogging, studying, and they did not clean their bathroom. To add insult to the injury, they were smoking in the house and blowing smoke in my face.”
No, honestly, this is what we must look like to him. Oh, intergalactic shame.
Not my problem right now. I want to know how our Jim got on with Gordon.
“It was through Kyle! I was with Kyle then, Henry!” James exhales cigarette smoke out of both his nostrils and looks like a desperate dragon, cornered by some vicious dragon-slayers.
Carlton frowns.
“You know Kyle! I told you about Kyle, Henry! We hung at “Bene Gesserit” together. I was with Kyle, and Gordon was just one of the thirty more people or so at that fancy joint! And, if you want to know, it was not down my alley, but Sian Philips was packing heat, not Gordon.”
“There you go! Now “Sian”, too? So you DID fuck half of Establishment by mid-nineties! While pretending to be such a meek little sheep to me, James!”
“Sian was a woman, Henry!”
Mercy! Mercy me! Carlton will tear James apart any minute now. And I started it. I STARTED IT!
I could not walk in the room and say “Hey Jim, did Lord Carlton leave already?”
That would have saved all of our faces!!!
No, I had to rush in and blurt out what was on my mind, having ASSUMED that Carlton was gone.
I spilled out the confidential stuff. The info no one was supposed to know!
Now I can clearly see my lineage, for Assumption is the Mother of all fuckers.
Carlton is getting ready to strangle Jim over unconfirmed fucking sessions three decades ago with unknown men, whose side of things we will never be able to hear.
Yeah, I have learned my lesson. So learned my lesson. Haste makes waste.
Through our common channel I saw that Jim got a message from a certain Gordon, better known in some circles as Gordon Of Summer”. It was not the first message, and I came to the bedroom to ask James for explanations.
Earlier the Arkabin showed up. At the sight of me he grabbed the biceps of his left arm with his right hand (their greeting). With that I went to the kitchen, leaving Carlton to get dressed hastily.
About fifteen minutes later I came back thinking Carlton had already left for his jog with the doctor.
And the bedroom WAS deserted but for studying James and working Christopher.
The room does feel DESERTED without our diva. Once Carlton is gone, the scene fades into background. Nothing to see.
So, I asked James about Gordon. I said, why does Gordon write you all the time? Or something to that tune.
What EXACTLY did I say? My head is spinning. I know I did not get it that the messages were directed at a “larger group of friends”. I thought those messages were to Jim personally.
THIS IS WHEN with a falling heart I heard water flush in the bathroom, and Carlton appeared in the training suit, hugging that tall, lean, muscular frame of his. Nothing like mine. Never have I looked like this Greek god. Not even when I was twenty.
Terrified of what I’ve done, I froze like a deer in the headlights.
But Carlton cared nothing for me. He went straight for Jim’s throat.
“Gordon WHO-o-o?!” He growled, suddenly pale as a corpse.
See, this Gordon, probably a nice gentleman per se, is very popular in certain circles. And James always talks about how he was forgotten, and never chosen. Ok, so, hanging in the same group of people with GORDON is pretty remembered and chosen, if you ask me.
I felt like I had to explain something very obvious to all of us here, but maybe not to the respected listeners of my channel.
“If this is how it was, James, and I can’t trust you because you lie in my face all the time, why hasn’t he removed you from his mailing list? I can’t imagine anyone but my closest family to be on my mailing list for three decades!!”
He has a point here. But James is like an ancient turtle. Everything and everyone with him is at least 300 friggin’ years old. And he is younger than me.
“Why are you still getting all his messages?” Carlton presses, his eyes quickly turning from mild blue to Arctic ice. “How many have you received over the years? What did he write to you about? What did you answer him and what else do I need to know? Also, what else are you hiding?”
I froze just listening to these frigid spears of questions he is shooting James with. He is just so cold within, this sick man. I wonder if his poop also comes out frozen?
“Henry...” Jim takes a step outside, puts out the cigarette, and throws it into Leonard’s beer bottle.
“Silence!” Carlton cuts him off sharply. He says it so loudly that it echoes in the woods beyond. “I’m not finished. After you are done answering my questions about your relationship with Gordon AND Kyle, may I have the FULL list of ALL OTHER MEN you fucked. Not through work, I don’t mean on the set. In real life. Soon. Beginning with Sean.”
James swallows hard and gives Carlton a lustful look. He turns on every time this guy is mad.
This is where James goes nuts sexually and does not come back. The funny part here, if any, is that Carlton does not do it on purpose. He does not mean a foreplay.
Right now his ego-ravaged insecure mind is seething, and he is fierce in his honesty.
It’s all the same to the infatuated poor Mr. Kellspell.
“You may speak now!” Carlton orders.
“Sean is not a man, Henry. Again, she ran this joint called “At Bene Gesserit”. This woman was old enough to be my grandmother.”
James’s eyes deepen in its inebriated state, as he reaches out for Carlton’s hand.
“And if that was not enough, she would not be caught dead hanging with a seventeen year old shmuck from a third world country. She was some Welsh royalty, Henry. So strike Sean off that list.”
Carlton frowns and withdraws his hand.
Rejected and lashed, James finds comfort in drugs. He lights another cigarette.
The Arkabin outside is patient and calm like a dead lion. Obviously, outwardly only. Be not fooled. He is watching and reporting everything to Prince Moretr. There will be consequences to this little scene here. Something Henry totally forgets, usurping everyone’s time for his endless squabbles.
But by now I’m the only one who cares to remember why the Arkabin is there and what we’re supposed to do INSTEAD of digging passionately in Jim’s closet of skeletons.
“As for the messages from Gordon, they were just stories from his personal life! He felt compelled to update us about all that twice a year or so. First, I read them, but then they started pissing me off, so I quit reading them. This is what happened and God strike me down if I’m lying to you, Henry!”
Carlton sits down in his chair, in which he usually resides resplendently while James brushes his hair, and pleases his cherished mate in many other ways. He surveys Kellspell’s face suspiciously as reflected in the mirror in front of him.
He may be somewhat relieved, but the interrogation is not over.
Now, if he hits Jim, it will be over very quickly. In bed. Because by now James is only one slap away from coming into his pants. Or into Henry’s butt.
It’s going to end exactly like their previous fight. Maybe Carlton sat down because he got it and wisened up.
“When did you stop reading Gordon’s messages?” Carlton’s voice is now different. Almost miserable. And breaking. Maybe he sat down so Kellspell could not see his face reflecting his fallen spirit.
He usually burns quickly through his hydrogen. And the more passionate he is in the beginning of a fight, the sooner he, then, falls apart.
“In the mid 90s, Henry.” James approaches Carlton from behind, his voice now low, his regular hoarse whisper. “He wrote something about having tantric sex with his wife for nine hours straight to achieve some spiritual results. And I answered that he should try tantric poverty instead. It lasts more than nine hours and provides perfect spiritual results. I never opened any more messages from him since.”
A stunned second of silence is interrupted by laughter.
It is both chilling and relieving at the same time.
Christopher is laughing in the corner behind his bridgeplate. He is not supposed to interact with us. But this cracked him up. Me, too.
“You wrote that to him?!” I butt in, darn well knowing that Carlton will forgive his Christopher, but not me.
But Lord Carlton is dead to the world. He is staring at his reflection in the mirror. And he is crying.
“No.” James responds to me, carefully placing his hands on Carlton’s now shaking shoulders. “I did not write him. I just responded him in my mind, and then closed the door.”
No one said another word. Carlton sobbed and shuddered under Jim’s hands for a few more minutes, and then he quieted down.
“Mid 90s in Moscow were very tough. Famine, revolution. Currency failing, money turning into paper, cleaning out your bank account….” James continued, on to his fourth cigarette. “My parents lost their entire savings at least twice in that decade. I was young. I would lose six jobs a year because I was inexperienced and no one wanted me. I would steal bread from stores and vegetables from government trucks to keep my family from starving and developing scurvy. I did not care about another rich fat cat looking for spirituality in all the wrong places. I wondered as to why he was born into wealth and I was not, why his business took off and mine did not… I never read any of his bullshit messages ever since.”
No one said anything. And, as I noticed, deep into his monologues, James never cares for audience. He ran his own channel for three decades. He is used to talking to himself inside of that solitary confinement of his head. Aren’t we all. But James turned the misery of his desolation into a raging passion.
“As for Kyle,” James continued, “He was shy and quiet. I never fucked him. We would make out in a very childish way on a bench behind the lilac bushes in front of Sean’s establishment. He would not even let me kiss him, or what. He was bi-curious, experimenting with his sexuality, as I see now.”
During Jim’s speech Carlton would raise his head, then lower it. Or he would just stare directly in front himself.
“We only went out for a year or so. And then we just drifted apart.”
James gives us a dismissive smile. That genuine milquetoast smile tells me everything I needed to know. James has no feelings for Kyle. He is telling Carlton the truth.
“As much as I know, after that he married at least two women and spent at least ten years with each, or something like that. In other words, he was a bi, he decided to go with the straight option, and he was straight ever since. He never contacted me up until the same year I met you in the Grey Building on Level 2 where all the sleeping bodies are.”
James raised his brows, and nodded his head, knowing that although Carlton sat with his back to him, he could still see his face in the mirror.
“So, four years ago, after being silent for thirty years, he sent me a short letter and his photograph. On it he looked 30 years older, but just as cute and sweet. I was already in conscious contact with Melekh. I asked Him what to do with this blast from the past, and Melekh told me to let Him handle Kyle. So, I let Melekh do that.”
I watched Carlton’s face, and it showed considerable signs of relief as James admitted that the letter from Kyle stirred nothing in his heart.
“Then Kyle tried to pass the test for admission to the Strobulus, and he failed. Then Isaak tried to pass the test of admission, and he also failed. Hafnian Wolf took the admission test and passed. Samuel took the test and failed, but he let me pay for him. You took the test and you failed, but I paid for you.”
Jim takes a breath and meets Carlton’s eyes in the mirror. It’s like bright sunrise meeting the peaks of jagged faraway mountains. They are that harmonious together.
“That is the only “list” that matters, Henry. Gordon may want to come to the Strobulus, but I will be cutting him no breaks and I will not pay for him. He lived a very happy, extremely indulgent and wealthy life, ALL of his dreams had come true, so, he is not my type. I only pay for those in pain. I only pay for the forgotten and abandoned. He was never that. However, as far as I know, Gordon never applied for the test. Or, he applied, took the test, failed, and I was never informed. One way or another, hat’s how we are here, and he is not. This is all we need to know.”
This is where Christopher changes his position behind the bridgeplate. He is clearly uneasy.
I feel a wind of nervousness coming from him as Jim plows on about the test. I knew everyone was supposed to pass the test to get here. The impression I got from Captain Christopher was that he never took the test. He got here because someone paid his admission price.
“Up until this brouhaha I never knew or cared what happened to others of that gathering at “Bene Gesserit’s”, Henry!”
James sighs and I swallow a tight knot of guilt. This painful convo did not have to take place if I was not childishly careless.
“Those others... Sean, and the rest of the pompous dignitaries that used to frequent her posh hangout. To me they were all fucking fat cats, pampered by fate.” James sighed, and there was hardness to his features.
As he said that, his face got rigid, as if carved from unforgiving granite. It was unusual and somewhat scary to see a normally compassionate Kellspell wear a face that was more suitable for Lord Carlton.
“All of them, including Kyle and Gordon, were somehow allowed to flourish, while I was forgotten by anything good in this world, and I remained forgotten my whole life. I struggled so hard and no one gave a shit. They all got their chance at fame, money and freedom. I was never given that chance. I was never allowed to know how it feels to be one of you.”
I lowered my eyes and tried to let his speech go through me as if I was a tree, and it was rainwater. But the imagery did not work. It fell apart.
Despite my efforts to protect myself, his words hurt me deep. Deeper than I could ever imagine.
“The only way I could look at all of them was through a veil of thick, nauseating hatred. Gordon is shallow and self-entered. I’d never want him as my lover. This is all I know, Henry. End of story.”
Deep at night, after James made love to Henry for hours, seriously, as I laid there, trying to sleep, thinking if I should just go to another room, I was also looking for a way to apologise.
After all, if I was careful, Henry would not have learned about Gordon’s messages.
“It would only be a matter of time before Henry went through all of my personal emails, and he would have found out anyway.” James whispered into my ear, his hair disheveled and his eyes still wide with wild excitement of fucking Carlton. “My sweet Henry should not worry. Gordon is getting on this ship over my dead body.”
And I should not worry. Maybe Jim and I are not meant to be.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 24 (+24)
is on the {fabric} tablet
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 23 (+23)
The Vial Of Pure Humility
“The time has finally started to move noticeably faster.” James notes as he gets into the bed.
Carlton is in the bathroom brushing his teeth, and I’m getting ready to lay down, too.
I should hurry to get a few precious minutes alone with James under the sheets, but then I wonder, what is the point.
“No, finally I can feel it running through my fingers. It has become easier to make it through the day.”
I’m folding my laundry - in fact, just the briefs. And I have a space for them now in the dresser. Just a corner in CARLTON’s drawer, but nevertheless.
“I used to feel like a fly in the sticky spiderweb of time, but now I know I don’t have to take this for more than three-four more years, if that.”
I do not answer, because Jim sounds depressed, and the last thing I want is to flush him down the depression precipice with one wrong word.
“The hardest part of being a forgotten one is not being able to be creative, I guess.” He continues. “Nobody needs my creativity or cares about it. Everyone is using me for their purposes…”
Also, James does not really need anyone. He ran his own channel for 29 years. Three decades on air, completely alone. He can carry on with his monologues all the way into tomorrow. He can howl alone indefinitely.
Never stop, never doubt himself. Just keep on broadcasting. This tenacity paid off. He cried alone for so long, so much, so loud, that he was heard on Andromeda.
And now that they came for him, he wants to make sure that only the poorest, the neediest and the most forgotten get on the coveted Stairway to Heaven.
A noise in the bathroom. Water got turned off. Footsteps. Is Carlton coming back so soon already?
We better wrap up our blues. Lord Carlton does not take kindly to that. Lord Carlton will not be forgotten! Forgetting is replacing, and Carlton will not tolerate any competition.
James is to focus on him and him only.
“My phone on Level 1 stopped charging. Virus everywhere - how am I going to fix it?” Jim says slowly as he puts his head back on the pillow. “It hurts” He whispers to me as Henry is already upon us. “My soul hurts inside like it gets lashed by a thousand whips at the rate of 40 times a minute.”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 22 (+22)
A Large Bag Of Arrogance
“How much have you made today? Put it all on my account!”
“But, Henry, I need to buy a book on silicate minerals and Nickel-Strunz classification.”
“Borrow money from Moretr and pay him back from your next salary!”
That was a convo that took place yesterday between James Kellspell and Whatshisface.
Another one, just as lovely:
“Henry, you took all my money. I need to buy a new shirt.”
“Grow one! Sheep grow theirs!”
So, after THIS I waited until the doc took Carlton out for a jog, and I went after James.
“Do you realize what is going on?” Infuriated, i shook him by his shoulders. “This man is using you as his personal gene in the bottle! He wants you to solve all of his life’s problems, fund his expensive lifestyle, AND comfort him in bed!”
Jim nodded his head, wide eyed, because Carlton yelled at him (or, rather, hissed) right before he was taken by the Arkabin Yanari doc.
“You can’t even answer a question, James, because you are under his corrupting influence! You are like on drugs around him! Do you get any of this? Do you not see that he is only getting more vicious, ruthless, aggressive with you? He is pushing you just to see how far he can push you!”
Alas, this went nowhere. James just stood there and stared into the quickly fading light of another day. Stared into the woods where Carlton was taken to jog.
He would be laying by the door, like a dog, waiting for his “precious Henry”, if I was not there trying to talk sense into him.
Worse yet, four months after listening to Carlton James developed a distinct British wordage and accent.
And now I hear “Not bloody likely” instead of “I ain’t gonna do it.”
Honestly, Carlton should be classified as “invasive species”. He invaded our bedroom, our closet, and my boyfriend’s head.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 21 (+21)
Making Love To The Neutron Star
Status: OPEN
From Uri Kumlatov’s lectures that run on the background in our classroom: “How not to HOLD a grudge against God? Or anyone, for that matter? That’s easy! Do not FORM a grudge.
How not to FORM a grudge? Here is the bit “your” precious ego will never tell you: The key not to form, and hold a grudge against SOMEONE is to see that someone as PART OF YOURSELF.
Do you realize how easily you dismiss charges against “your own” ego? You do that every day in the most improbable circumstances.
You were late for a meeting and it caused you getting fired? That was because “your” ego said you could lounge in front of the telly for another ten minutes...
You come back home fired, and you know it was those ten minutes in front of the telly? Hey, no big deal. I’ll find another job...
And how can you blame “your” ego?! You are absolutely sure that the “advisor” in your mind (actually the tape-recorder is positioned right above your head as you are asleep on Level 2, but in your DREAM here it sounds like it is IN YOUR HEAD) is a part of you!
Ok, good. Got that example down. How about this one: you run too fast, fall and hurt yourself. How many times has that happened? Hurry up and burn your hands in the kitchen? Yeah.
And when that happened, did you say: “Ego-program, I’m going to hold you responsible for this one. You claim to be my “best friend”, but you did not ask me to slow down.”
Now, I was not there, but I can bet anything that you DID NOT say that.
Why? Because you see ego-program as “part of yourself”. So you will always be protecting it from fair retribution.
This is the immunity that the ego-virus has been enjoying for 13 bln years. This is what I need you to see and overturn in your internal justice system.
Your internal justice system is crooked, the balance hangs askew, times 7.8 billion people on your planet, and you want to know why everyone is in so much pain, and no one has any direction (clue from your older brother: self-enrichment is NOT an appropriate direction)?
And you want to know when is it going to change? It will change when your goals will change!
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 20 (+20)
Child of His God, slave to “his” ego
Status: OPEN
“I sat there and watched Henry Carlton’s power over James grow day by day with unforgiving intensity. I watched Kellspell bow, bleed and kneel while Carlton pushed, bullied and extorted. And there was not a single thing I could do about it.”
“Sky Over Morrill” by Samuel of Salem / rebroadcast by Uri Kumlatov via UTOLIKA BRANCH BROADCASTING AND ARCHIVES
{Music: Misty Shield “Don’t Give In”}
“I’m so ready to die, Samuel.”
Ahem. This rings in my ears. Since last night, it does. The passion of the immeasurable desire for release, and the longing for peace in the middle of a war, which brings the guilt of being disloyal to your vows to your comrades in that war.
Then, Carlton’s hissing, disdainful tone.
After hours and hours of therapy with Leonard I began to accept the reality. This is how it is going to be from now on: my James. In the grasp of this charismatic, but vile man.
Leonard explained to me, that Carlton gets like that especially when he feels vulnerable.
When do you feel vulnerable? When you see something that is yours being taken away. That’s one good example.
Like, when the man who was sworn to save your parents talks about killing himself. Kind of ruins your day, right? The horse on which me and my family is to cross this deep and turbulent river is not to die under us.
I’m going to punch out anyone who dare hurt my horse.
But what do you do if you find your horse holding a gun to their own head? No, seriously.
{Music: Ursine Vulpine ft. Annaca “I Am The Only One”}
Sometimes, when I find time to burst into this channel with my five cents on what is going on, I’m at a loss of where to begin.
Our life here reminds an intense Hollywood movie. With one problem. There are at least ten of them happening all at the same time. You do not know whether you should pay attention to the screens around you, or just focus on the bloody mess of your own.
The characters in these movies mix between themselves a few times a day. Their lines of narration intersect with each other. Clashing, rolling, crying, begging for relief, or screaming and demanding answers.
The good thing is that there is no one lead actor. Each of us is a lead actor of our own movie, with ten Arkchils recording your every tear, every scowl, and every thought.
I start feeling like James more and more. A horse, holding a gun to its head. Just to see how it feels.
Honestly, I was never suicidal before. But it’s been six months of shock and amazement of how passionately and persuasively one can talk about suicide. Kind of makes you want to try to find out what the guy is so excited about, right?
At the very least you will be confused about where to begin with a narration like that...
Today however, I am at a loss of HOW to begin.
{Music: Misty Shields “Our Magnificat”}
Last night I cried as I washed the sheets, soaked in Jim’s blood.
It’s almost 12pm now and I’m still in bed, haven’t had any breakfast, and do not feel like eating.
I demanded answers from Lord Henry Carlton, and now I wish I had not. What I heard from him caused me to seek Leonard’s guidance.
I have asked Leonard for a strong drink, and an advice.
He gave me a bottle of Blended Canadian whiskey and told me to shut up and dare not get in between or judge.
I liked the whiskey, but not the advice. Ok, got THAT bit off my chest.
NOW shall we begin?
{Music: Ursine Vulpine ft. Annaca “Wicked Game”}
“I’m so ready to die, Samuel.” Kellspell told me last night as he was done with his class on tectosilicate minerals.
It’s Niarastina Kils Svangibir of the Moon cycle. Middle of summer, you can say. Still two weeks before Lirda Kils.
In other words, he is not supposed to be depressed just yet.
So I freaked out and asked Christopher to get a hold of Uri Kumlatov.
Not that I expected Jim to slice his carotid arteries the Estelian way with Prince Moretr not visible to us, but present nevertheless, and with Lord Carlton visible to us, decidedly distant, but present nevertheless. And, by the way, Jim’s teacher, too. Not present, but avidly vigilant.
I just had to do it. There is never enough support when you are dealing with a psychotic, suicidal person. Well, a slave to “their” ego-programming, essentially.
Jim does not want to be a slave to “his” ego. But when the program starts working his mind, he gives in sometimes.
{Music: 3 min pre-Service Matrix: Bells only}
Usually you are allowed to cave in at the full moon, the hardest part of the moon cycle, the “Lirda” days. It is still shameful, because negative attitudes is poison to our system. It is hurtful to Father. When depressed, you act like an aching hand. God needs his hand healthy, and you can’t blame Him for that.
Yet, it is twice as shameful to give in to the whisperings of the ego-program in the middle of a cycle. During the mild times of the moon.
Which is exactly what happened to James. A night of drama and torment later he is no longer allowed to watch “Shark Tank” on Level 1.
That’s what set him off, Uri Kumlatov said when he arrived to analyze our communal breakdown. By the way, Kumlatov showed up very quickly and without complaints about being distracted from the civil war and all that jazz.
Seems to me he probably hangs on the outer shell somewhere now. It does not pay for him to go back to Andromeda. Because we call him all the time. We can’t do anything without him. I bet of all the things he did in his lifetime he was never a kindergarten teacher. And spend his time peacefully.
Like, consoling James when he gets upset about “all these women whose inventions made them independent, and why have all MY inventions died in a fetus stage...”
This is where Carlton called Jim “disloyal, untrustworthy and argumentative.” But not quite where he hit him yet.
The program whispers the standard recording into your feverish, weakened brain in that room where you left your body, drunk and under the influence of a tape-recorder.
But locally on your sleeping level the program inserts into that basic recording your current circumstances in life (of your current dream sequence), and the names. Basically, it custom-fits the general “depression/resentment evoking protocol” for you.
This is what happened to James last night. This is why he wanted to die, causing his partner’s unbridled rage.
This is what the ego-program said to him (as per Arkchil Records, retrieved by Uri three hours after the fight, and one hour before I started washing the sheets into which the bleeding Kellspell fell.
“You are a loser, who had achieved nothing in life and sold yourself off cheap to an abusive asshole. You could have been like these free, happy women, but God would not give you what He gave them. That’s why you are suffering!”
Well, while fully realizing what he is dealing with, my beloved man does not always have the strength to stand up to the damned custom-made recording.
He fell. He fell way before Carlton hit him. He fell when he caved in to “his” ego, and AGREED with that sentence.
This is what Lord Carlton had to say about hitting James in the face hard enough to smash his lip AND his nose:
“I do not expect you to understand, Samuel, but sometimes you need to defend what is yours.”
Right. You defend yourself from losing to Jim’s ego by beating up Jim. It’s like fighting cancer by beating the one who has it.
I tell him that, but his reasoning still stands.
“Mr. Kellspell was in violation of The Magnificat, The Covenant, and Fall Memorandum’s Article 1. How many commandments can we break in one day, Samuel? Going for the world record?”
This is where I regretted calling him out on his behaviour. I expected him to show signs of repentance, I wanted him to apologize. And I got back a response of a barrister pondering a case. Heartless. Calculating. Businesslike.
This is what Commander Uri Kumlatov had to say about James and Melekh (Prince Moretr) to me and Lord Carlton, later rebroadcasted via Arkchil Records:
“Their connection is unique, mysterious, and holy. But it should be standard for everyone.”
My comments? Oh, I did not have any. How am I expected to comment on someone’s relationship? How about on someone’s relationship with God?
This is what I was instructed to say BY LEONARD.
This is what I’m sticking to, for the man is wise. If it was not for his careful instruction, I would have given in to “my” ego’s desire to scream profanities. As you see, the ego is conflict-seeking. Always.
And then Uri said this about all of our blues:
“Depression is forgetting that God is with you. Forgetting is replacing! So, what are you replacing God with and why? And is it better that way, tell me?”
Very profound. We are dealing with a wide spectrum of opinions here.
And then my mind finds a way to escape from the necessity to analyze things to the raw drama.
Raw, incredibly strong drama, well delivered by Mr. Carlton here. This will never fade in my memory. His eyes, where disdain and arrogance was rapidly transforming into cruelty and vengeance.
“Why do you want to die? Because you have to work for H.M.?” Carlton hissed as “his” ego’s interpretation of what he heard intensified his anger. “You have one job, James! To take care of H.M.! You are being paid an equivalent of thirty million dollars a year in karmic credits for working only three hours a week!!!”
Carlton was obviously berserk by then, but then the cauldron of his passions boiled over.
Because James turned up the heat.
“I would gladly work 80 hrs a week if I had YOUR job!”
Yes, Mr. Kellspell. Stand up for yourself once in a lifetime.
But then Lord Carlton would never let James win.
This is where he hit James across his face with instantly frigid, ruthless eyes.
“Henry...” James started, holding on to his lip, when Carlton hit him again. This time blood streamed out of Jim’s nose almost instantly.
And James fell into the fresh bed sheets.
Only he did not fall alone.
“I’m sorry, Henry...” He said quietly as the blood streamed from his nose down his half-one lips and onto the bed sheets.
He grabbed Carlton by his shoulders and locked his bloodied lips onto Carlton’s, twisted in a scowl.
“James! What are you doing?!”
But Carlton’s screams from under Jim reminded that of an elephant being swept away by an avalanche.
Carlton could have easily overpowered James if only due to his sheer size. Only he was not going to.
There was one thing Lord Carlton could say no to: intimacy with James Kellspell.
Ego’s hidden agenda:
Break you away from God, and keep it that way.
So it can plunge you into pain (darkness)
Ego’s open agenda:
MY WAY OR HIGHWAY.
If my victim does not get that, I will beat him up. He, in turn, will give YOU the attitude for forcing him to do things YOUR WAY.
Read: You will be in a bad mood every time you do not get “your way”, which could be pretty petty and meaningless.
ANSWER: Do not let the ego plunge you into a nasty mood because things were not done (or did not go) YOUR WAY.
Clue the ego will never reveal to you: It was never YOUR WAY. It was always GOD’s WAY. A hand is not supposed to pick a way. It is the job of the Head.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 19 (+19)
NO ROOM FOR WEAKNESS
Please Let Me Earn Your Love
James got depressed by the end of this hard, exhausting day. I watched him smoke outside, then pee on the cigarette butt to put it out. He places them into a beer bottle, then.
When the beer bottle by the lilies is filled, it gets magically removed, and a fresh empty bottle is there for James.
The magic of switching the bottles (as well as picking up all those butts James dropped accidentally on the ground) is performed by this magician of love, Mr. Rubinstein. He comes late at night to clean up after his “Krista”.
Leonard brings his own empty bottles, because Jim is no longer allowed to drink. Carlton put his elegant, expensively clad foot down after that night when Jim very nearly O.D.’d.
So, James is depressed. Since we share a channel now, I can hear his every thought, when I tune in. Not that I did not know what he was thinking BEFORE THAT.
Before ALL THIS we spent three months together. Just the two of us. And Jim is one of those people, too weary from the solitary confinement of their own head, who tends to take all of his clothes in front of you pretty much the first night. Spill your guts right away. God forbid you wait for one minute to spit it out...
I know all his demons, then. They are Self-Pity, Regret, and more self-pity. Same as mine. I did not need to write that down to remember.
Now he feels that he has failed every test ever given to him. And, of course he had failed as a writer.
In other words, he got ambushed by “his” ego, and now the machine, intentionally created to drive us away from God, is chewing his ears off about what a loser he is, and what have you.
Basically, it is doing its damn best to follow through with YOUR OWN orders. You remember programming this robot to tell you against God? No?
Well, we here are being trained to remember how we got here. The last thing you want to do is blame God. It’s not His fault you used “Free Will” Clause to lock yourself up here in a make-believe game of the world “free of God”.
Now You, the Child Of God, are laying shamefully passed out under a chair with a tape-recorder on it. With a dictation on how to stay away from God.
We all know what happens when you run from Father.
Pain happens.
You let that darned program control your mind, and it is going to hurt you. Everybody knows that. But did you know that giving in to the whisperings of “your” ego also hurts Father?
For you are His Hand. Stuck in a vice of the ego-device. An ignorant, blind, narrow-minded program.
Yeah. Jim is forgetting this right now. I look at him through the glass panel of the sliding door, the sunlight hitting his very dark eyes, now hooded, looking inside.
I know that he is listening to the stupid program, telling him about what he was never given, and all that jazz. Why did someone get all these talents, and you did not. Hey, why is he enjoying fame, and I am not. It is telling me the same thing - day in, day out.
But after Jim won the auction, and got Carlton, you see, the ego-program does not have very much to go on anymore. It is now gradually losing the control over his mind.
So, this is going to blow over soon. Jim is going to defeat the machine by stating that in lieu of stuff he did not get, he did get
the most precious thing ever - Lord Henry Carlton.
Which sits there every day with a permanent bitch face and hisses at Jim to bring back every penny of his karmic earnings, so that Carlton could put it towards buying out his parents. That’s all he thinks about. His own agenda.
Here he is, my James, now smiling through tears, his eyes directed to the sky, thanking God for his lovely, inspirational mate.
I knew this was going to happen. This stage of enlightenment that cuts depression in half, like a ray of light cuts the darkness. But how?
This narration is so f**ked. I can’t explain things I describe. How can such a mate as Carlton be such an inspiration? What’s with that?
Truth to the matter is this: Jim may have failed whatever the list of things the ego is trying to feed him, but he succeeded as a servant of God.
I do not know what that means yet. But it has something to do with a weird taste in men.
Since Carlton showed up four months ago with his support team and all his wardrobe, Jim really was not depressed about anything but his immediate health issues. Which is nothing in comparison with how “his” ego used to chew him out for all the things he had not become.
He used to tell me he’d cry all night long about why it was not working out for him - when so many (“less talented bitches”, he’d growl through his teeth) were able to make good money selling their books, he could not. And he could not say anything in his defense. He kept on losing in this internal monologue with “his” ego.
“If God loves you, He would have made you not just a talented, but also a financially successful writer. Giving you just the talent to write, and then not helping you to make money on it is simply cruel. My conclusion is clear: God does not care about you.”
So, Jim had nothing to say to that, and he’d just cry. He did not believe the machine that God did not care about him. Yet, the machine was right about one thing: he was not selling any books, when so many writers around him seemed to be very successful.
Worse yet, he’d find out that someone was only writing for three-four years, and voila, they were making five grand a month selling their crappy books on Amazon.
Jim started writing at 12. And there was not a single thing he could do to repeat the success of those jump-starts.
He’d beat himself up about that. For years. Could not sell any books, had to go back as porn actor. For he failed as a writer. The ego-program fried him on that constantly for decades.
But then... All that sexual experience he picked up fucking hundreds of men for a living. When life gives you lemons. That’s what I was thinking about his situation.
However, all that is in the past. The machine no more has a hold on Jim’s mind, like before. And the victim is slipping away...
He was only depressed now for less than half an hour. He smoked two cigarettes, did not even come to me for support in helping him not to drink.
He did not need to. Here we go, on the wings of love he swings the sliding door, and flies into the bedroom!
Straight to the dresser with Carlton’s combs and stuff on it. He pretties up things for his “resplendent” mate. Then he runs to the bathroom, and I hear him banging there, cleaning the mirror, Carlton’s toothbrush and his shaving blade.
In three months we were together before the Hammersmith Diva showed up, he did not bother to change a towel. Let alone clean any of my stuff.
Oh, here we go! With a blissful facial expression he bee-lines from the bathroom into the closet with a cloth to polish Carlton’s shoes. He will be at it until Carlton is brought back by the Arkabin doctor. The doc takes him jogging through the woods. Says he needs physical exercise to relieve emotional issues! Don’t we all?!
When done with the shoes, James will drag OUR hamper to the laundry room, and will spend half an hour there picking out CARLTON’s underwear, socks, and shirts, sniffing each garment, sending himself into a dense, tearful high.
A couple of times I found that hamper still there three days later with our stuff in it, as Jim would pick out and wash only what smelled delicious, simply forgetting the rest.
No, finding my laundry abandoned like that by James did not hurt me.
Yes, it did. I will lie about my feelings everywhere, but not here.
Anyway. Yeah. Barbie friggin’ Carlton cures all his blues. See, the ego-program with its whining about being forgotten by God simply has no legal standing when you face such an immense high.
And yes, I smelled Carlton’s socks, too. Just to say I did it. They are not laced with cocaine, my friend.
Fuck, man. How do you fall in love head over heels LIKE THAT?
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 18 (+18)
Beautiful Prisoner,
... and his games around James.
Today James freaked the shit out of me. I was in the bedroom, and he was studying in the classroom. He ran from there and threw himself in my embrace, breathing hard, and screaming in his hoarse but powerful whisper.
“Samuel! I have a mosquito in my ears, in fucking stereo!”
He was terrified. He hid his face in my hands.
After a few more questions and answers and his panicked, tearful descriptions of looking for that mosquito and not finding it, I figured that he experienced an episode of tinnitus.
It’s the full moon. It’s getting to all of us. It’s pulling every nerve in our bodies.
Although already Lirda Svangibir of the cycle. But this cycle was tough, and we’re just barely getting off a very tight spin.
Mr. Carlton was in such a critical emotional vice that Moretr sent in one of his Arkabins, a hot young Yanari, maybe not even 500 years old, apparently a doctor. The Yanari took Carlton with him, and we have not heard from them all day.
I could have made a thousand jokes about what I just said, between the non-existent mosquito and a hot guy taking Carlton away... but I have no mood or desire for that. Not sparkling today. Just tired. And pissed. You darn well know why I’m pissed.
Yes, fucking Carlton. Through records available to me, I figured out that he was weaving a net around James for years. He wants James for all this unsophisticated, neurotic Russian dufus is worth.
And James is so obsessed with his Hammersmith Barbie, I mean, Ken, that he can no longer see the situation with the sober mind. And my heart bleeds for him, and for the way he is being treated.
But what else happens? I mean, besides swindling Nikola Tesla out of his inventions to support this high-maintenance diva?!
In the last few days James studied forms of radioactive decay with Uri, via the bridgeplate.
Lessee... they have Alpha-decay, Beta-decay, Gamma-decay, too. All that happens.
Only they do not have “omega-decay”, and I’m witnessing it right in front of me, every day. What good are their chemistry books if they do not mention omega decay?
And it’s not just Carlton. I think I’m decaying too. Double omega decay. Put that into your text book.
Then Christopher taught me and Lord Carlton more on ego-programming, by receiving the lectures through his bridgeplate.
So, now I know how “your” ego ushers you into a conflict. Step by step. As we know from every movie ever made by Eridani Industries, you do not fall from grace, you walk away from it.
Step by step.
As the process of “getting angry” was explained for me, it was slowed down to where I can see how I can learn to dare to disagree with “my” ego, and not get plunged into a maelstrom of negative feelings and maybe even actions.
Now James is on the bed here with me. Just the two of us. First time in five months. I want him to hold me, I want him to pay attention to me.
And he does. But it is nowhere near the hot inferno of his feelings for Carlton. Now I KNOW what he is capable of in terms of personal sacrifice. It is to put Romeo to shame.
Back in October I simply had no idea what I was looking at. Not until Carlton arrived. Now I am aware of both the proverbial Romeo and the corresponding Juliet.
“No, I totally see your point, Samuel.” Kellspell is staring into the ceiling with the rainbow Andromedan clock taking up just about all the space above our heads. “Carlton snatches me five years ago in the Grey Building. Carlton, then, sends his man to me, with a sappy love story and a request to sign off all my intellectual property to his employer, basically. Only an idiot could seriously consider such a proposition. And I am that idiot.
I agree, because I believed the sappy love story and really liked the gifts with which the messenger arrived. His hot Hafnian ass, that is, which I used any way I wanted for three years. Oh, darn well knowing that the owner of the hot ass was sent to me by a mysterious third party whose name was blurted out not even six months into my relationship with the Hafnian Wolf.
Who broke it to me that he was in love with none other but Lord Henry Carlton. And here I thought the Hafnian bastard came here for me. But he was so miserable, and so helpless, that we plotted how I could get the Noble Englishman for him. For us both.
Then, already with the Noble Englishman, as if this was not enough, I meet Hafnian Wolf’s brother.
That does not ring a single bell in my head. It’s like chewing on the cheese in the mouse trap while being fully aware of the door slamming right in your face.
“U-huh” I say with my eyes closed, inhaling his smell. Right here, by my side. James. The man I came to love, cherish, and feel so sorry for. I can’t argue anymore. I’m just going to lay here, quiet like a dead lion. Yes, I’m that tired of trying to open his eyes to the reality, and hitting the wall.
“This whole time Carlton is playing me, and I’m none the wiser. He rigs the auction so that he gets sold to me, and not any other of those lustful bastards.
The convo I had with Magnus was priceless. I never forgot how he looked at me that day. “Now you know everything.” His eyes told me. It was...” James falls silent for a second, while holding my hand.
While I listen to any and every sound indicating that Carlton was brought back.
“It was eerie, Magnus’s eyes. Full of deep internal torment, studying me like I was the sacrifice to keep plaque away from the city. “Now you know everything.”
And alas, I still do not know squat, Samuel. Neither do I know why he was looking at me like I was a sacrificial lamb.
But I get it, that you think YOU KNOW. You have proof, too, for you have conducted your own investigation. You know Carlton and his men are holding me for a gullible idiot. You hate the Hammersmith bastard, you believe I’ve sold myself cheap. Right? Did I feed you back correctly all the stuff you fed me in the last three weeks?”
“Pretty much.” I put my head on his shoulder, and he kisses my forehead. I know we do not have very much time for a private conversation because the Yanari doc will be bringing Carlton back to James very soon.
There will be no more discussion after that takes place. If only because James will jump off the bed at the first sight of the Hammersmith arse, will take him by both of his hands and will want to know if “my Lord Carlton” would like...
A cup of tea? A foot massage? A glass of wine? A hot bath? Or, maybe my most precious, my most resplendent Lord Carlton is in the mood for sex? His faithful slave will do it all with excellence. He will also provide maintenance of Lord Carlton in six figure numbers a month, while himself sleeping on the rug by the door. With his nose deeply buried in Carlton’s shoes, I’m sure.
Basically a Nikola Tesla, who gave away all of his inventions to the love of his life.
All cool. Only, methinks, Carlton should not be given any of this. The man does not act like he deserves all this love and devotion.
And his stuck-up arse knows it. He knows the history will see right through his games around James. He knows it, and that is why he is so insecure.
Did I say that now I know how the ego ushers you into a conflict?
Ah, knowing is one thing, and resisting it is another.
Yeah, so currently I’m not even resisting.
This is how easily I get flushed down the stinky toilet of conflict. With a “wo-hoo” and helping myself down the emotional sewage with both hands.
With that being said, shall we plunge back into the conflict? Aren’t you done listening to my soul-saving rap and desire to hear more about how our valiant James pampers the undeserving, vane Barbie Carlton?
It’s just... it’s not supposed to be funny. How could such a loyal, wise, strong-willed man as James Kellspell be allowed to be ravaged by such an arrogant, moody, depressed individual as Henry Carlton?
Noises outside!
Oh, geez. Barbie is here! I hear her little pink high-heels down the hall! Click-clickety-click. Calling for my idiot mate. Take care of me! Wipe my ass! Tell me how the star of my size needs it’s own Heaven!
See, in James’s mind Carlton can’t even share sky with other stars. He will be provided his own sky.
Oh, what good does it do? Why am I so bitter, that’s the question.
I know I got flushed down the toilet of conflict. Albeit just internal. Because I agreed with the initial ego-protocol. And how can you not? It’s the self-pity protocol!
The “final problem” with this whole arrangement, if we could resurrect and employ that term, is that James is emotionally unstable. Because he is seriously mentally ill. Can he handle a partner just as sick? If not more so.
Barely done with the cough that lasted for five months, he is now in pain with his left kidney, suspecting kidney infection due to chronic bladder infection.
Says it hurts him during sex. Says it brings him down emotionally.
And it does. As we now share a channel, I can feel this pain all the way up in his back.
But he has all kinds of psychosomatic pains all over his body. Sharing a channel is also sharing a delusion and all its prisms.
So I don’t know either.
Enough to lose your mind. That’s why Jim handed his to God. We must do the same.
But instead of freaking out, like I did with his lungs, I just sent a message directly to Melekh with the description of James’s new condition and a request to have an ultrasound done on his left kidney, if any is needed.
There is only one way to know if this is real or psychosomatic.
Unless Melekh already knows it’s psychosomatic.
Hold on, I need to open the door for Carlton!
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 17 (+17)
“I Will Be Your Niko Pirosmani”
I was not here, at this lower channel, for 2 weeks, and now I have less than half an hour to write a manuscript the size of “War & Peace”.
For both war and peace were experienced in different circumstances by different members of our little KELLSPELL & Mates show in the last two weeks.
Hardly Barnum Circus, but just as hard to maintain.
The reason I was not here is because James started Estelian Communications school, and he is using this channel to stay in touch with Prince Moretr & colleagues. We now share the channel. The implications will become more clear later.
A lot has happened, I know, and I literally will not have the time to relay even half the events, conclusions, or conversations I had with Leonard. Without those you will not get the whole developing picture. So, then, I will re-direct you to Moretr Enterprises “5 Minutes To Revelation” ARCHIVES.
For by the time you are reading this, ALL of this will be a filed history. We can’t risk being live on air. There will be a considerable buffer of time to allow us to reach our Destination before these records are released to the greater audience. Or, as Commander Uri would put it, hit the isotropic surface of time.
Anyhu. It’s hard to pick up the narration when I have so much to explain.
Prince Moretr agreed to pay for James’s Estelian Communications College if James agreed to put all his future earnings towards buying Lord Carlton’s parents out of severe karmic deficiency.
This really is God’s truth.
None of us will cost James as much as Lord Carlton’s family.
Four layers of grandfathers that were denied access to the Pearly Gates. A whole genealogical branch.
Carlton got hit with that Branch, right in the face, when he was born to inherit at least four generations worth of unpaid karmic debts.
Both his parents, then, were guaranteed to be denied access just like their ancestors before them. Therefore eligible for yet another flush down the tube of re-incarnation.
Carlton sold himself off for his parents’ debts.
Now I know that the auction was rigged so that James would get Lord Carlton, and not anyone else.
So, James gets accepted into an Estelian Communications school to raise his value, basically.
In Level 1 money one year of such school would cost an owner of the lucky Estelian about 50 mln dollars. Don’t gasp, because it is simply impossible to compare. Their civilization and ours. James will get out of there as the real Estelian he once was.
All that jazz plus being useful to Carlton.
No need to mention, James looked like an Irish setter, who got invited to go for a walk AND eat cookies at the same time.
Instead of thanking Moretr, who stood right there in the long robes the color of the House of his all-powerful father Sardonyx, James threw himself at Lord Carlton’s feet, saying tearfully “I can’t believe you actually find me worthy enough to want to take something from me!”
I thought about that sentence all night long afterwards, imagining a granite countertop.
Why? Because you could probably cut that granite countertop of yours easily in half with the laser gaze of Lord Carlton.
That’s how Carlton’s eyes were. They were icy-cold lasers. Two frigid blue lasers, burning into James’s tearful face. Not a smile. Not even a wince.
“I will be your Niko Pirosmani!” James wept.
“I’m going to need more than a million red roses from you!” Carlton retorted with his signature disdainful, abrasive expression.
I could not take it anymore.
That night I went to Leonard’s rooms with two cases of beer, and we spent the night drinking and playing cards.
Just for the history. Leonard is straight. And he is really good at playing cards. What is he not good at?
Come to think of it, my life’s circumstances pushed me into the embrace of a man I thought to be our enemy.
Boy, isn’t James saying the same thing about Prince Moretr just about every day!
The twists of fate. They are less of a noose now that we have finally reached Father and got picked up by his trusted people. We may still be in shitloads of pain, but at least now we are surrounded by doctors.
Oh, and by the way, we ARE inside of a strobulus that is taking us back to the Eden Garden. Like, an ambulance that is taking us directly into the hospital.
Talking about fate. James sealed his by crucifying himself between school and his lover’s debts.
While signing the agreement of service to Prince Moretr.
The last one was expected as reciprocation for being admitted to a very expensive school, of course. Don’t forget for supplying the funds to acquire Carlton.
And I have no problem here. A highly ethical being like Prince Moretr is not going to take advantage of a Level 1 guy like James.
It’s like a scientist swindling a chimp out of a banana. I mean, we ARE in the middle of a movie that has ended well. The scientists are finally here to take care of the monkeys. Or, rather, the adults found the lost kids in the woods. All good here.
It’s Carlton’s attitude that bothers me.
But then it’s not like James does not give him a reason at least a couple of times a day.
That’s the problem. Every now and then James totally deserves Carlton’s signature emotional whipping.
Where does Carlton get it? Did he learn this kind of unacceptable behaviour from his father? Is that what he’d get when he was a child?
All seemed to be honky-dory for a while.
But then not two days later after “I will be your Niko Pirosmani” thing the hell broke loose.
I was afraid Carlton was going to do something to himself when he caught James lying to H.M. on Level 1. He was that inconsolable.
He felt betrayed. I get it. Then his anger turned outwards. As was expected.
Basically, these are the ups and downs of a relationship between two very damaged, hurt, twisted men. In a nutshell. Nothing new. And the reason why I’m digging in their shit pile is because I am in love with one of these men.
So, this is what happened.
James lied to H.M straight-faced, about something very important.
Carlton does not trust James very much as it is. “Why would you sign this?!” He yelled, or rather, hissed at James just the other day. “Why would ANYONE sign anything like this?” That was about the Covenant.
He does not get how someone could pledge their life to save yours. He is not grateful yet, but suspicious.
But then James is still not quite the knight in shining armor, either.
He falls short on many fronts. Plenty more armor to shine. Hygiene. Manners. Temper.
And now Carlton witnessed James disrespecting H.M.
Yet again.
“If you think it is ok to treat HIM like that, Is that how you are going to treat me when we are together?!”
And James, or should we call him “Shames” from now on, had absolutely nothing to say...
He is just used to having things “his way”. Meaning, “his” ego’s way. And sometimes he lets it get the best of him.
Knowing that Carlton is smart enough to see right through these games, James cried in his defense.
Carlton, however, did not let it soften him a bit, and casually mentioned that Moscow does not believe tears. Neither does London, he added ruthlessly.
I could no longer watch James being simply human. He was too miserable admitting to his glaring shortcomings. Desperate to put every karmic credit towards helping his lover’s family, and falling short of his promises.
And Carlton would just hiss hurtful accusations in Kellspell’s face, torment him within an inch of his life for his every mistake. A cruel and an unforgiving man. A spear of ice this Hammersmith aristocrat is. A neverending winter of heart.
Next thing I remember is waking up on Mr. Rubinstein’s couch next morning. Again, I must mention that there was nothing between us that night, or any other night after that, because Mr. Rubinstein is straight.
But this man can drink like a gangster, I’ll tell you this much. He sat outside drinking under the night sky all by himself long after I fell into an uneasy sleep, haunted by Jim’s tearful apologetic voice on his private channel, plugged to Christopher’s bridgeplate.
It was the last thing I heard in my head before I fell asleep. James groveling in front of Carlton. We share this channel now.
I HEAR EVERYTHING HE SAYS. And not just to Carlton. TO MORETR, too.
I can tune it out before I go nuts, but it is hard to do.
On an unrelated note, Jim and Moretr speak like two long-lost, and happily reunited friends. Which is even weirder knowing their history.
James lived on Andromeda as an Estelian man called [Lasse] {citation needed}, and at the time Prince Moretr was basically their version of Hitler, I kid you not.
Maybe, a better comparison would be not Hitler, but a cruel and a greedy capitalist. And James, or Lasse, over here, grew up watching Eridani Industries-produced movies about the people’s hero Arkabin Bruno Libra.
Bruno (played by various Estelian husbands of late Sardonyx Eridani) spent quite a bit of his screen time either fighting with the employees of Moretr Industries, or rescuing the workers of the said enterprise from the mines and factories with the most notorious histories of human rights violations.
Wrap your head around this one.
However, after listening to hundreds of hours of their conversations I came to a conclusion that James was not talking to Prince Moretr at all.
Prince Moretr was talking to James about things so private that there is no way in the world that guy would care. Who is James Kellspell to Prince Moretr? Come on! It’s like Cornelius Vanderbilt knowing the size of my briefs. Give me a brake.
Moretr was allowing another entity into his mind to communicate to James.
Prince Moretr, the new heir of the whole Eridani estate, Prince Moretr, now Leot’s closest man in the whole Metarix Sleeve of Andromeda, the Prince Moretr we never knew was channeling Melekh Shel Zahav.
“We will go where You send us.
But You will always take care of us where you send us.”
“My body can be ravaged by a disease, and it is inconsequential.
For it is only my honor that I am responsible for.
God can always give me another body. But no one can give me another honor.”
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 16 (+16)
Stuck In The Tower Of His Pride
So much happened! It’s just when you are not in here for 3-4 days, you darn well know how much you owe your diary.
James had a rule of never missing an hour, let alone a day, without reporting to his diary, but then James decided to make a billion dollars selling his tears. The balls of this Russian brass monkey.
Anyway... Where was I going with this? See, i spent two days listening to mind-blowing lectures on communication, penned by an alien from Andromeda, and then I spent two nights crying.
Each of those days and nights deserves a separate book to give it justice. Both due to its intensity, and the most unique cast of characters. If only just that.
And all I have is half an hour before the next event to jot down two paragraphs to summarize four books worth.
Oh, what good does it do to whine? James learned that one on his way to win the heart of the Hammersmith Aristocrat. So should I.
Uri was here, twice, personally. Both times with the lectures I recorded and placed below. The mist has cleared in my head on many issues, as the lectures progressed.
And then Commander Kumlatov had sex with me.
I don’t know if it is a good idea to describe here what happened between us.
I don’t even know if I deserve to be here, on these pages. To bring attention to my issues, and to the mist that shrouds my heart. The mist that no scientific lecture can lift.
But I’ll do it anyway. My channel, what the heck.
Two nights ago Kellspell - Carlton mating games, should we call that, had gotten to a very painful point for me. Mainly because the action was so hot, and I was so not invited.
Moreover, I was ignored like a piece of furniture, while Carlton hit James across the face so hard, he flew across the room and hit the glass door.
Carlton may be an omega, but he is a formidable guy with a lot of passion. During their sexual foreplay he gets so deep into his character, that there is not a shred of mercy in his eyes when he goes after James.
James, then got up, smearing blood across his face (did Carlton smash his nose?), dropped to his knees in front of enraged Carlton, and started mumbling apologies as he unbuttoned his, now, bloodied shirt.
And I know that Carlton would not hit James very much for real, if James could not take it.
Do I know that, or Carlton has us all for fools? Is he one of those chameleons, where you never know where the real person is?
He delivers such deep, tasty, incredibly involving performance, that you forget where you are. Or who he is. Is Lord Carlton a superb actor, or is this his true nature coming through under the guise of love games?
If anyone unprepared will ever get a hold of these records, they will see m Lord Carlton as a natural born sadist, and nothing else.
He beats the living daylights out of James.
Before he ends up being fucked by him.
This is especially convoluted here. An omega beats up beta to get him to fuck. It can only happen when your beta is a masochist.
“The colors within the bridgeplate, when it is used as a communication device, allow to deposit units of notions, or amalgamated chunks of knowledge into your mind. The longer you look at a certain cloud, the more of the information from that cloud will be deposited, or “dusted” onto you.”
“I’m not homosexual!”
“And I’m not a masochist!” Jim whispers in my ear as he walks by. “Now you see why he is exactly like me? God does not make mistakes. When in doubt you must dial 1-800-ClubDenial”
“Hold on. This is what came out: AKONIA SISERI. What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“Ask Christopher!” And I mean it. We would be so screwed without his diligent attitude.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 15 (+15)
Do You Want To Own This Forest?
Question is - in the absence of God
What will take HIS place in your heart?
And while you are at it, all happy and smart,
NOTHING will take YOUR place in HIS Heart.
Misty Shield “The Age Of No Pain”
“I said - I have been at it for forty years, Father, I can’t take it anymore!”
“Do you want to own this forest?” He asked me, then.
Oh, i did not want the whole forest, I just only and ever wanted one tree in it. Not always the same tree, but you get my meaning.
“It takes way more than 40 years to grow a respectable sequoia.” Father said. “And once you tower over the whole forest, you, then, can have any tree you want.”
Jim takes a breath, for there comes his favorite part!
“Next thing you know, this fine gentleman in a snowy white shirt and a “dinner jacket” goes off an auction, for the Level 1 money equivalent of eight hundred million dollars. To me, baby.”
What?! Eight hundred million dollars?!
Suddenly this love story is choking the heck out of me. I went off a lower auction. And I thought $200 000 an episode was fair.
Ahem, a chronicler is not supposed to... but I lose my shit, people. Right here I lose it, in front of ten Arkchil recorders. Imagine if THEY lost theirs every time they heard a number they did not like!”
“You priced yourself at $ 800 000 000 ?!Did you just blurt out the first number that came into your mind and then kept on drawing zeroes until your hand got tired?! Lord motherloving arsehole you prick Carlton, sir, have you no shame at all?!”
* * *
“Hey, but what happened to Gina Yasmin’s estate after her death?” I think it’s time to pick Capt. Christopher’s brain. Not in vain is he our very own Hermione Granger. “Who owns all of her stuff now, that’s the question.”
“Sardonyx performed a hostile takeover of her Liberation Front Army and retrained them as his medical staff in his Golden Orb Army. I know that one for sure.” Christopher is very serious in answering all my questions. He is to the point, and quick.
But there is only this much Grehedi history you could know by heart.
Sardonyx took over THEN. Now that our good old leader is dead, who owns Gina’s stuff?
Watch him access his bridgeplate altar for more details. He almost sleeps with this thing now.
Look how quickly he pulled up SENCI, the Estelian Archives, the most reliable, and also easy for us to read.
I could not get my brigdeplate to work to save my life!
“Ok, SENCI!” Christopher brightens up. “Moretr Enterprises currently owns the estate of Empress Gina Yasmin Parmina Of Grehedis, Holy Mother Of Liberation Front Army and Arzadellin’s 13th Apostle, Level 17 Grehedi, Daughter Of Leot and Este (80% to 20%).
Mother of...”
Christopher says “holy crap” under his breath.
She was a mother to many, many famous characters, yes!
“Ok... let me filter out three pages of names... down to those we actually know, or should know about:
“Prince Moretr... Venerable Generals Narlan and Len, Ardent Gina Yasmin and Bruno Bellissimo Libra...
Died at 51 million years of age.
A long list of clans that supported her with every shred of public opinion they could control... What did you need this for, Samuel?”
“Oh, Jim wants to use her bridgeplate to set up an internal Net Comm for us here at the compound, and he wanted me to find out who owns it now, and if that House is on our side to ask for permission to plug in...”
Christopher nods and goes back into his work. “Tell him to ask away. Our current acting Alpha owns the entire Parmina matrix. If we know Prince Moretr, he already ordered that bridge plate wired in here.”
For sure.
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BEAUTIFUL STRANGER
Chapter 14 (+14)
Does not get any stranger than that...
“HE should have been Doctor Strange”, Jim?!”
“They are both strange, Samuel!”
So much happened. I do not do this narration any justice by skipping large events, like a transmission from Andromeda with the updates of the civil war.
Moretr Enterprises “5 Minutes To Revelation” BROADCASTING reports:
“Two more Grehedis of Leot-loyal Houses are “taken by Strobulus”.
Mind the time difference. It’s been twenty years or so on Andromeda since the last transmission we received. Last transmission was about a month ago.
But every month that passes here is NOT 20 years there. There are other factors to consider. Like the time it takes for the signal from UTOLIKA BRANCH BROADCASTING to reach us here. That’s 2.8 mln light yrs. Converted to, hm, time? This will be covered in Communications class, I’m sure.
So, then, three more Houses that were not yet affected by the Strobulus are attacked by the Houses that suspect that unaffected Houses are the ones in league with the Sheiredis... I got lost in the names of Houses, though.
What could be more captivating than watching a conflict of such magnitude develop?
Watching Carlton-Kellspell River is way more captivating. Sometimes debilitating. But never boring.
Forget the war.
Here to the conversations between Henry and James!
The unforgettable twists of both of their minds. The flow of Carlton-Kellspell River:
James, buttoning his jeans after screwing the heck out of his royal mate: “My men will remember me!”
Carlton is in bed, face up. His eyes are glazed over, he does not look like he even remembers himself anymore.
And that’s exactly how you feel when James is done with you. He is in the habit of having thorough and detail-oriented sex.
You can also say that James is very technical and even professional about it. Being born into a military family plus 15 years of martial arts gave him an almost limitless capacity for order and discipline. And responsibility. He feels responsible for the well-being and pleasure of his mates, and what best way to deliver that if not via professional attitude in bed?
I don’t know if any of this is even supposed to be applicable to love-making. But this is not your regular love story, either.
James, continues with his passion-induced chest-beating rap: “Hafnian better remember me! I peed on him so many times.”
Samuel (I honestly could not believe my ears): “Peed on your teacher?!”
James, with an apologetic face: “I felt possessive! I peed on him to mark him. I wanted everyone to know that he was my omega!”
While I’m trying to wrap my silly human mind around “PEEING ON A GUY TO MARK HIM”...
Carlton, laying in bed, suddenly coming out of his sex-induced stupor: Pee on me!
James, now shocked: “My Lord Carlton! Hafnian Wolf is a commoner, and you are high-born!”
Yeah! “Born into a wealthy, but morally bankrupt family”. This is how Carlton pretty much described it in one of his interviews to Time Paradox & Seashell Effect Of PELARGONIUM CONSORTIUM...
Carlton, stretching his hand to James, his passion-filled electrifying-blue eyes are now leaking torment: Pee on me, James! Let them know that I’m YOUR OMEGA!!!”
Ohh, i’m out of my wits. Switching to lyrics:
“Collecting men! He is a hoarder!
A shot of Bailey’s is in order...”
* * *
“My mates”... “I’ll do anything for my mates!”. James says that every day. What he really means is “I’ll do anything for my precious, most valuable, super-brilliant mate of Lord Carlton”.
He also means “I did 17 years of indentured servitude, and I did 3 years of penance, and I will do 20 more if needed. Oh, and go ahead and rape me or whip me on the city square, or whatever, as long as I get my divine, my cherished, my most noble Lord Carlton.”
I know that and I feel like a burden.
It’s a self-judgment.
There is not a level on which I’m right. Or justified in my jealousy. I should be grateful that he married me.
Out of pity, I know. But it is all the same to the Eternity. I will walk through the Pearly Gates to the right of James Kellspell.
Why am I whining? Unconscious pain-seeking behaviour. This is how you end screaming at night - when you focus on yourself.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Stremitsa drug k drugu...
“We always try and reach for each other.”
James has been channeling from Melekh all morning.
Chapter 13 (+13)
“OF SLAVE HUMAN HOSTS”
“Ohh, my dear, you think you are free? Free to make your own choices? What a phrase! Everyone loves saying and hearing that one!
It’s music to “your” ego’s ears. If it has any.
Let me explain this fallacy to you once and for all. You don’t have any choice for as long as you let “your” ego make that choice.
You might want your free choice to make “the right decision”, but there is a 100% chance that you will hand that choice to “your” ego.
There is a much less percentage if you are SOMEWHAT with God, but only those who are 100% with God manage to make a 100% wise choice (the more you are with God, the less of a chance that you are going to consult “your” ego).
And you will believe that you are one with YOUR PRECIOUS EGO (without the quote marks this time) for as long as YOU AGREE WITH ITS CONCLUSIONS about the world at large.
If you are feeling cozy with “your” ego, please understand that it is also the one that causes you ALL the pain (both emotional and physical) that you have ever experienced.
With that out of the way, here we go, ladies and gentlemen!
This is why you can never make the right choice if you are not with God.
YOU might think yourself smart, and you want all the best for everyone, right? But if you are used to listening to the program in your head that is a voice RATHER THAN GOD, it is “your” ego, then.
Ego is narrow-minded. And what is most important, it is ALWAYS CONFLICT-SEEKING.
Therefore, “your” conflict-seeking ego will do its best to twist every decision you’ll have to make. Meaning: it will suggest for you to take a path that will most likely result in a conflict. It is IMPOSSIBLE for you to see HOW, because you are drunk and asleep under its influence.
But there is a way out.
Let’s look at some real-life situations.
The root of any conflict is your weakness. But not the way you might think. You create a conflict in the hearts of others when YOU LET “YOUR” EGO PORTRAY YOU AS AN ASSHOLE.
To you, you are “telling them the truth”, but ALL THEY HEAR IS “YOUR” EGO TALKING. And the ego is there to hurt.
But how? How do we let “our” ego, which is not a physical bully, to flush us down the toilet of the stifling conflict?
It happens when we are weak enough to let it use us and our God-given facilities to make us look like we are the infuriating ass that deserves a whipping.
ANOTHER EGO can’t possibly pass up the opportunity of a conflict (that’s how the wayward 5 year old Kid of God had programmed it!), and it orders its slave human host (like your husband), to give you what for.
How does your beloved husband gets persuaded by “his” ego that the wife he lives so much deserves the ass-whipping?
Because he is being fully controlled by “his” ego. Via the “Do you agree” logical link.
Here is how the conflict goes: He says something you do not agree with.
But instead of coming to God for humility to keep your fucking mouth shut, you, THE WEAK ONE, let “your” ego control your mouth, and say an outrageous thing.
HIW DO YOU FLUSH YOURSELF DOWN THE TOILET INTO CONFLICT?
Oh, again, “your” ego uses the same protocol with you, as it does with your husband - “Do you agree that he deserves an ass-whipping”? And you agree! {because you are upset at what he said!}
And you respond harshly, you fail to make the right choice of words that will be LESS LIKELY to portray yourself as the one who deserves a beating in the eyes of your partner’s ego...
And as you say it, YOU TRIGGER “HIS” EGO to engage its slave host in a logical “Jabba The Hutt pulling a dancer by the chain”: “She is full of shit! She deserves an ass whipping, DO YOU AGREE?”
Of course, he agrees, because he is a karmic immature 5 year old! It is upon YOU not to let “your” ego flush you down the toilet of hurtful, stifling conflict by BEING STRONG ENOUGH NOT TO LET IT PULL YOUR TONGUE.
Because by the time you said edgy shit that triggered “his” ego, you do deserve an ass-whipping if only because you should have known better than shake a red cloth in front of a bull.
And then you whine that the bull is after you. The bull has no choice. You do.
You with the bull was more understanding of your weakness? Well, wish that to the One who is not befuddled by a hurtful mixture of poisons running through His brain. Someone like Father.
That’s how we come to Him. By understanding that we are weak in the face of a conflict-seeking program that has flooded our brain.
That’s why silence is an oath we must take and maintain. So we do not let “our” ego use our God-given facilities to instigate conflict.
Yes, you might say, but I’m not like that!
Maybe. You may be a peaceful Shard of God. I can’t possibly imagine what peace of soul feels like, because I was born into a cauldron of boiling military passions.
But other people seem to take joy in raising quite normal children, and tending to a garden. I could not imagine any of this, for my internal brain/soul solution is thermonuclear.
Here I have come very close to the source of all my pain...
Back to peaceful people. It is the fact that we usurp the power of an opinion from God. We are God’s Hand. Imagine that your hands, and legs suddenly started having their own opinion.
You are not going to any concert tonight. Your left leg wants to take a bath, your right leg is drunk, and your hands demand a manicure.
Funny? Not funny to Father. So many cool things we could be doing WITH HIM now instead of trying to please an ego within in this screwed up Level 1 ego-trap.
Did I get the point across to you?
Have you suffered enough from the decisions “your” ego made for you and left you get stuck with consequences?
That is why Benedictine nuns take a vow of silence, and we should aspire for it as much as we possibly can.
If you began to feel allergic to this text, then you have not suffered enough. Then you are still under the influence of the poisonous apple. Meaning, you are the leg that wants to take a bath when God wants to go to a concert.
You think that you are being “free from God” to make your own choices. But the fallacy of that is clear: you can’t make your own meaningful choices if only because you do not have Father’s knowledge and His range of intelligence to know what these choices are. And that’s just the beginning of fallacy (faulty programming) that keeps your mind a slave to “your” ego.”
Your brides do not look very happy!
Wrong you are - this one is paid to smile!
Slava prishla k nemu pozdno
Otvet na eto: Ee zvali ne Slava!
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 12 (+12)
Always in His Presence
Little pieces of stuff as of late.
Actually, this is one of them “little pieces” that takes your whole plate. As of late.
I mean, besides the fact that I believe Jim has got something going on medically. This is what scares me shitless.
But back to what pisses me off! :)
Carlton got a bloody nose. On a Sunday, too. What was he doing? Probably hit himself just to attract Kellspell’s attention.
James was studying some mind-racking material on electromagnetic radiation. And I mean it. He was talking into the bridgeplate, most certainly to Uri, for what must have been ten minutes, in English.
But not a single damn notion was anything I could picture.
“Yes, I can answer that question!” He went on. “There is an alternative way of viewing EMR. We can say that it consists of photons. And photons be those uncharged elementary particles you were talking the other day about. So, these bitches have zero rest mass. We can say they be the homies, the quanta of electromagnetic force, right? And these little fellas are responsible for all electromagnetic interactions.”
He was sitting in the backyard, on a wooden bench not far away from the path with fresh white marble gravel that Leonard poured for us, mixing the language of quantum mechanics with the Ebonics grammar.
Peacefully so.
I stood by him, recording the moment (I learned to see the scene as portrayed by one or more of the Arkchils (actually through their eyes, angle and all), and now I got me a movie! Easier to see a bigger picture, so to speak.)
Carlton rushed from the bedroom, through the sliding door, and by the lilies or some stuff Leonard planted here for “Krista”...
To get to where Jim and I were, he’d need to also cross the rest of the backyard garden with cherries and such, by the marble path.
But he did not have to.
“Henry!” Jim jumped up, and ran to hold Carlton, right through his bridgeplate. It’s edges got blurry where he disturbed whatever electromagnetic radiation was creating the cloud-like assembly of colors, hanging in the air, which was bridgeplate.
Carlton’s eyes shimmering blue, met with Jim’s, brown amber. “Come!” James muttered, leading Lord Carlton to the bench. There he proceeded to sit very close to Carlton, and lick up the blood from around his nose, lips and chin.
In this animalistic move Jim met Carlton’s eyes.
Krista’s dark malachite momentarily took over Jim’s amber as the evening sun reached the bottom of his eyes.
I would never be able to see it from where I stood if I was not also plugged to the Arkchil direct broadcast.
First I thought of throwing up watching James licking Carlton’s face clean. Then i thought of laughing. I did neither, for I could not stop watching them.
The wind picked up and a dog barked in a distance. What dog? Aren’t we inside of a Sheiredi spaceship, being spirited away to Level 3 of Awakening?
Oh, who cares. Licking up blood from your mate’s nose? What James just did appeared to be mutually pleasurable, and therefore appealing.
Here they are, like two puppies. Carlton scrunching up while Jim wants to make sure he has not missed a streak of his venerated partner’s blood.
Talking takes place only after the licking is done.
“What happened? My omega! Let me take care of you! My love, come into my embrace!”
“He is 44, not 4.” I mumble, and get hit with the truth.
“He is only 43, and every breath you take, Samuel, I have in stereo.” Kellspell is too involved to elaborate.
But I know what he means. Oh, crap. I forgot that he is also plugged to the Arkchil Network. I wonder if we are sharing a channel. Maybe that’s how he my breath in his head in stereo.
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 11 (+11)
We Give Power To What We Pay Attention
“As per the Axiom, we give power to what we pay attention to. Essentially, we must remember to REROUTE our attention from the faulty “interpreter” of “our” ego to Father.”
Jim folds over in a long bout of cough that he had for five months now. I have already notified EVERYONE I could about what is going on with my Lu, and so far I received zero feedback.
James was assigned by Prince Moretr via Christopher’s bridgeplate to give us lecture on ego programming.
And now we are waiting until he is done coughing.
Then I raise my hand.
“Excuse me, could you please state the Axiom for those who missed the first five thousand chapters of this?”
What I really want to say is when are we going to take Jim to the doctor on Level 1? But I choose the second best thing. More than once I was asked not to get political.
Since when medical care is a matter of politics?!
“Of course, my love!” James goes back to the blackboard and draws a triangle. “Starting with your left bottom corner:
Whatever we pay attention to - we validate its existence - therefore give it power over us.
He points to every corner of the triangle to drive the point home as he coughs through his speech.
Christopher even stopped monitoring the bridgeplate, watching Jim fold over again, and cough hoarsely, shuddering with every bout.
It’s hard to know what Christopher is thinking. After all, he is Lord Carlton’s man, and that’s where his loyalties lie.
Maybe his loyalties never told the truth ta begin with.
But he does not look like that. He gives off an impression of someone who really cares.
Only time will show.
Jim straightens up when he is done coughing.
“What?” He confronts Carlton sitting straight and tight like a string, at the very front desk, eyeing James without blinking.
His stare is two clicks from disdainful. I mean, as if it is somehow Jim’s fault. Or some gross violation. He just makes a big deal out of the smallest of Kellspell’s mistakes and missteps.
“It’s all kosher, my Lord!” Jim’s face is still red from the effort of coughing so much. “I already took care of the legend for Dobry & Friends. Calcification of my throat turned into cancer! I die, H.M. is free to pick another partner, and God help my mother, for she is going down the crapper without my financial help. But what do you care about my mother?”
Carlton’s disdain deepens as Jim gets emotionally unstable in the face of his mortality.
I want to cry for James, and I can’t. I wish there was someone for him, someone who will not lash him with heavy glances, harsh words and no understanding.
And if Carlton does not care, then I care for Jim’s mother. The poor 80 year old woman is going to starve to death if he dies. It’s that simple. There is no bloody way this can possibly happen so close to Father! I believe He is going to interfere somehow.
“For example: you watch telly, you pay attention to it - therefore validate its existence - therefore give it power over yourself. Then don’t complain if it screws up your mood with bad news and then gives you no support in your hard times.” James goes on standing in front of Carlton while paying zero attention to me and Christopher.
Carlton nods curtly, stone-faced. Honestly, seriously, how can you even maintain a face like that? His whole expression is so tight and impenetrable, that if you threw a rock, it would probably bounce right back, like from a wall.
And what’s with this tight position? He sits like he swallowed a sword.
Is he going to be the same at Jim’s funeral? Not a glimpse of emotions! I guess there it would be the most appropriate.
I wish there was a person who could give James the long-deserved compassion, consolation and support he gives others so freely!
God forbid we should also give him an x-ray in lieu of all other pleasant, but less useful things we spend money on!
“Again, watch what you listen to WITHIN YOURSELF. Ego-voice might feel sweet, because it is yours. But just because it is yours, does not mean that it is right.”
Brilliant. Upon hearing this “my” ego immediately became freaked out and used what it was programmed to do in case if someone comes too close to seeing the ONE TRUE PROBLEM OF THE UNIVERSE.
It attempted to distract me by pointing out how closely Jim brings his face to Carlton’s when he speaks.
It gave me a reason to inject the poison of jealousy, which is just a generic name for “I am weak-I am not with God - and I’m an emotional pain junkie.”
All that worked, to my shame. Next moment I’m in too much emotional turmoil to listen to Jim’s valuable conclusions.
“And the reason it feels “yours”, is because you recorded it yourself.” Jim finally breaks away from Carlton to notice two more people here!
“Then you fell asleep under it. It is misleading you to choose Freedom and Separation over the Love Of God in ridiculous, trumpeted-up charges against Him. For as long as you agree with the ego that you are better off separated from Father (while burning through HIS MEANS to support yourself and “your” dumb ego), you will be in pain.”
I close my eyes, and know that everything I said about James just now was dictated by “my” dumb ego. I’m being run in circles by a program blasting it’s orders from a tape-recorder above my lifeless, poisoned body.
And now it forces me to run a projected self-pity protocol on James. I recognize it from other lectures on “our” ego.
And here is why.
It’s not like James Kellspell is underage. Or that he does not have any other relationship options.
I was here to comfort James and give him love. I thought everything was fine, and the guy was hot for me. Until Carlton showed up.
Then I learned that he was “tepid” for me. Now, HOT is what happens to Jim when Carlton starts steaming him in his own juice.
Leonard is here for James with a word of wisdom and a caring hand. James told him clearly and regretfully, that even if he would consider to be a female part-time to accommodate Leonard, he is still not into a “vanilla” relationship.
In other words he needs to be ridiculed, humiliated and denied love to get it up.
Exhausted from running in circles of Jim’s fucked up mentality, I drop my head on my hands. Sometimes you just can’t carry on anymore.
Unlike James, who got over the cough, and is going through dynamics of harmful ego-thinking, while Carlton interrupts him every twenty seconds, demanding explanation that may have been coming had he been more patient.
I would never treat James this way.
Leonard would never treat James this way.
But James did not choose me or Leonard.
He chose the selfish, distant, hostile and demanding Hammersmith aristocrat, and fell completely under his corrupting influence.
It’s like he was waiting for him, or something.
Yeah, he was.
And he knew his smell very well.
* * *
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 10 (+10)
The Test
“Sing, rejoice, little sparrow,
Witness the first spark.
Dawn is sending the arrow
Right in the heart of the dark.”
Misty Shield
“Your” ego is a metal blade that is driven between one finger and the rest of the Hand.”
We were given a quiz on chemistry. There was only one list of questions. There were eight questions on the list. So, Christopher, as our de facto leader and sometimes babysitter, gave each of us two questions to work on.
While the recording of one of Uri Kumlatov’s lectures on ego-programing plays on the background, as most of the time.
As if there is not enough distraction already.
And as if the questions were not insanely complicated. At least for me.
Is this Prince Moretr? He is new here, right, so he decided to give us a quiz on the studied material. Good move.
The problem is that James was the only one who was studying chemistry. We were never seriously considered to be his helpers in this part of the Quest. We would just trot along every time he had a class on fractional motherloving distillation.
“So, where IS Prince Moretr? He told us he was going to be our Alpha. That was a week ago!” I whisper to Christopher, who is using bridgeplate to try and get answers to the questions of the quiz.
However he has hard time reading multicolored clouds he gets in response. The clouds look like festival of colors in India, or a crowd of gypsies as seen from space, but not an interface of any kind.
“Samuel, not now. We are being timed. Could you please try and remember the boiling point of lithium?”
Look at this Hermione! He is really trying to do the quiz!
I would say something smartass, like “in Celsius or Kelvin?”, but I have too much respect for Christopher’s honest desire to do your best even when the conditions are not fair. Prince Moretr is obviously misinformed. James was supposed to be the only one tested!
“Well, can you tap into the friggin’ Black Hexagon Broadcasting or something? They invented spaceships that fly at the speed of light, surely these bitches would know the boiling point of lithium!”
“This IS Black Hexagon of St. Merelion, Samuel! But I feel like a monkey that is trying to learn the human alphabet all by her lonesome self!” Christopher touches both top and bottom colored fields within the bridgeplate, with various screens and cloud-like interfaces appearing over the altar itself.
Apparently he did achieve archival information of a broadcasting station 2,5 mln light years away. They should give us a pass just for that!
My pride for the humankind in the face of Christopher is gone, when a scuffle, and a loud smacking sound take place to my left. Immediately after:
“Oww! Henry!” James breathes deep, holding on to the left side of his face. “What did I do?”
Carlton stares James down with this vindictive narrowed glance.
Did he just hit Jim? I look at Christopher for support and explanation, but he only lifts his brows in a dismissive way and pretends to man the bridgeplate altar as if he did not even see anything.
“Why me, James? There is a sea of other pretty faces, why have you chosen me?”
I don’t know about the boiling point of lithium, but I found the boiling point of Henry Carlton. It is not fixed, however. It starts boiling spontaneously, guided by some clandestine internal mechanics. Put that into your quiz.
“My Lord Carlton, have you written down what I told you about the production of polonium?”
Carlton clears his throat, his Adam’s apple going there and back. He is making every effort to conceal his feelings, but his eyes are already irretrievably red and their expression is critically infuriated.
No, he has not written down anything about polonium. He can put polonium to shame in terms of radioactivity. He can also go thermonuclear at the drop of a hat. Take that, polonium!
“Henry, can we do this later? We only have less than half an hour left, and...” James’s eyes widen with disbelief. “You... You haven’t written down anything I said! We really need to pass this test! Please, write: “Polonium is obtained by neutron irradiation of bismuth.” Jim removes his hand from his face, and he is bleeding out of the left corner of his mouth!
Catty Carlton, what is his problem? In the middle of a test, too! Apparently our passions run as deep as they are close to the surface. Is there a thermodynamics law about this paradox?
“Why, James?” Carlton repeats quietly, while finally writing down what Jim told him.
“You sound like my teacher. That’s the third time you said the same exact thing he said to me two years ago! Were you guys told to learn the same lines, or something?”
“For as long as you use “your” ego as an interpreter of the events for you, the True Will Of God will remain hidden from you. Or, worse yet, twisted!”
I listen to the recording while re-reading my questions. James was so busy with Carlton that he never came to us. This is four questions to answer with less than twenty minutes to go.
“What is the crystal structure of nitrogen?”
“Provide the chemical formula for aqua farts.”
What’s “aqua farts”? Oh, aqua fortis..
You know what? This is bullshit. I’m not answering these!
“You will abandon me. Because when you arrive to The Scene, you will see, how many are there younger, more talented, smarter! Better! James, there are so many threatening to be better than me that I have hard time keeping the crown on my head as it is!”
“The consequences of you letting “your” ego choose your path is eventual loneliness and desolation. For nothing can replace The Original Source. Nothing can be equal to His Love for you.”
Uri’s recorded words barely reach my mind as I glance at my watch, and then back to James & Whatshisface.
“Oh, come on, my Lord!” James kisses Carlton in the back of his head, most of his face is now sunk in the bleached chestnut waves of Carlton’s hair.
I wonder if it smells as good as Hafnian Wolf had described it to Jim.
“You are my flower, I am your bird!
I am your toilet, you are my turd!”
Jim mumbles into Carlton’s hair.
“Oh, get away!” Carlton moves his head from under Jim’s lips.
The Hammersmith aristocrat does come across as moody and selfish.
Which he probably is. But James gets off on that. When Carlton pushes him around. And Carlton does not need to be asked twice. Seems to be working out between them. Will less and less time to get things done!
“Samuel! What are your questions?” With a few precious minutes left to go, Jim finally races to our part of the classroom.
Right about time!
When I said that James was “distracted” by Lord Carlton, I was not clear enough. The more correct definition would be “outrageously inebriated”.
Less than ten minutes left now. I hope Lord Carlton is happy.
Whatever that means to him.
“I’m not going to answer my questions.” I say firmly. “Why were we given those? I never listened at the chemistry class! I was under the impression that I was there for you and not for the chemistry!”
Jim glances at his watch, and gives me an exasperated look.
“I can only handle one drama queen a day...” He shakes his head at me.
Oh yeah? Why does it always have to be Carlton, then?
“No”. I repeat my response, and get a reproachful look from Christopher. “Tell me why?”
“Why” is a spear question, Samuel. It is an ego-programming question. “Why” is the question directed at the heart of loyalty. What good is a soldier if he is not loyal to his oaths?” James says that as he bleeds out of a corner of his mouth because he got slapped by an insecure, brooding drama queen.
The drama queen who could not wait till the end of the test on chemistry to hit the only guy who knows chemistry. Tell HIM about loyalty! And while you are at it, spell out “COMMON SENSE” to him, will you?
“Samuel, we have four minutes left, and I haven’t even gotten to Christopher!”
I slowly shake my head no.
Disbelieving Jim turns to Christopher.
“What was one of your questions? The critical point of lithium? 67 MPa. What was your second question, Christopher?”
Christopher opens his mouth to give James the answer, but then looks at the bridgeplate, and says disappointedly “We are out of time!”
No, that was not the question. The question was “the boiling point of lithium.” We never found that out. However, this chemistry lesson was not entirely wasted, because via trial and error we found out the boiling point of Lord Carlton.
This is what affected the critical point of Samuel of Salem. Relationship chemistry. Also worth studying.
For a moment Jim watches Christopher, who watches his bridgeplate. James is all bright eyed and hopeful for a partial credit. After all he and the Nibs did their part of the quiz.
Christopher’s face gets lit up by a splash of green, then purple.
“We failed.” Christopher comments, and James lowers his head slowly.
“If you only did not make a political stance, Samuel, I could have answered all four of your questions in the remaining six minutes!”
“If only you did not spend thirty four minutes explaining to Lord Carlton as to why you are not planning to screw around on him in London, I could have explained to you my reservations!”
Caught between the Jew and the British Nobility Jim looks like he is about to cry.
Oh, what the heck. It’s over now. I hand James the paper with my questions.
“What is the crystal structure of nitrogen? Hexagonal. ... formula for aqua fortis... HNO 3. There! We could have passed, Samuel!”
“We could’ve passed, Lord Carlton!” I fire right back.
James hugs me from behind, whispering apologies into my salt an pepper hair. My old man hair. And my body is not nearly as appealing as Carlton’s muscular, wiry 6”10 frame! It’s not even fair.
“I do not mean any disrespect, Mr. Kellspell, but the bridgeplate returned my request as “NHO 3.” Christopher makes a step towards us, while pointing out to a nebulous purple cloud above the top angle of the triangular bridgeplate.
Or, he did pull stuff from Black Hexagon of good ol’ doc Merelion, I can’t believe he’s been dead for 300 000 years!
A brief moment of stunned silence and glances towards Jim is broken by Carlton’s hoarse “I told you to study hard!”
WHEN? When is he supposed to study, Lord Carlton?
And HOW is he supposed to study when you suck him dry on every level you can possibly penetrate?! Physically, emotionally, morally!
Poor James, he is under enough pressure. So, he made a mistake. It means that we would have failed anyway, and now I feel a tad less guilty for my publicity stunt. Actually, I never knew I had it in me, until I saw stuff Carlton is allowed to get away with!
“Ahem, gentlemen!” James goes into his beta mode to suppress a riot of omegas. “Captain, I thought we were on the first name basis?”
Christopher nods, but is unrebuffed. Etiquette aside, he needs his answers.
Don’t we all!
“The quiz called for a CHEMICAL FORMULA. Chemical formula of nitric acid, or aqua fortis, is HNO 3.”
Christopher is not convinced. He is looking at the Andromedan device. Those guys can’t be wrong. If only just because poor martyred doc Merelion was an excellent chemist.
“However, it’s MOLECULAR FORMULA is “NHO 3”. This is what the purple field probably says.” James waves towards the bridgeplate. “We just can’t read it yet.”
“Got it.” Christopher nods, now satisfied.
Ok, that was sorted out.
“I want to make fish for dinner.” I whisper to Christopher. Let’s lighten up the situation.
There is a small kitchen between our bedroom and this classroom. A good electric stove, and a fridge. If you leave a list of food, it will be delivered within the next 36 hours. One Andromedan day.
“Lord Carlton is vegan.” Christopher reminds me as he catalogues every colorful cloud we got and compares it against the existing database.
He really wants to learn the interface.
And I really want to learn not to scream every time Carlton’s name is mentioned, because it is a shock to my system. Like an electrical surge!
I wanted fish for dinner, and now I have to deal with the Vegan Megan. It seems like anywhere I turn these days I face Lord Carlton, his ways, his retinue, his routines and habits, and I’m expected to serve, deliver, comply, or just simply get out of the way.
I was planning to get lost in cooking, but now my mind dwells on youknowwho yet again.
Oh, back to the venomous snake of Carlton with an excellent pedigree!
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 9 (+9)
Of shortcomings. And of long ones, too.
“James, do you know when the five o’clock shadow looks good?” Carlton runs his finger down Jim’s cheek while his eyes are as piercing as they are mocking.
Oh, there comes a painful one. I can stand his piercing glance, but not piercing and sneering at the same time. Lord Carlton can really pull your heart’s strings with that particular expression.
“At sunset, in a park, Mr. Kellspell.”
James lowers his eyes and rubs his scratchy chin with his palm. “But my Lord...”
“Keep it up, and I will make you shave your legs.”
I watch their captivating morning buzz.
There is always something wrong with James’s hygiene when Carlton gives him a thorough inspection, and sends him back either to the bathroom, or to the closet to change.
Oh, he let us put SOME of our stuff into HIS closet, and the rest is in boxes. I have to dig in a BOX for my underwear because Lord Carlton took all the dresser space!
But then the motherloving Carlton is wickedly inspiring.
Just look at him standing against the sliding door, and the curtain that filters morning rays, pouring them right on his curly bleached chestnut hair.
His high, sharp cheekbones catch sunlight as he berates Jim. I haven’t even been listening. Can you carry on for half an hour about the fact that your bf did not shave or use deodorant in four days?
“I do not want you to bolt on me, ok?”
“Where am I supposed to “bolt”, Henry? You are possibly the richest man in Great Britain!”
“That is because you have no idea, James! You think my family to be “fat cats”. Truth to the matter, my family is MALNOURISHED in comparison with “other cats”. And when the time comes, Jim,m, when you meet with these other people, I do not want you to see and compare, and regret that you sold yourself cheap!”
“I love you, my Lord!”
“I don’t believe you, James. Give me a reason to trust you!”
“I can give you seventy two of them.” James gives Carlton a strained smile. They both know this line very well. “Here they are:
One. If I bolt on you, then I bolt on Him.
Two. I will never leave Melekh’s Side again.
Three. I learned my lesson.
Four. My lesson cost me 46 bloody years to walk alone. And that’s just THIS LIFETIME!
Five. Never again.
Six. I have suffered enough.
Seven. I don’t care if the Queen herself offered me a billion pounds a week, and you lost your job and got rejected by your society. I signed the Covenant with you, and not with them.
Eight. Without Father it is all walking on broken glass with your bare soul, money or not. So, I choose Father over “my” ego to be happy with you no matter what.
Nine. I signed the Covenant. This deserves a separate point.
Ten. I accepted Magnificat.
Eleven. I actually helped Uri write our Fall Memorandum by revealing all my internal programming, showing him where “my” ego was tormenting and twisting me the most. Then I signed it. The articles of that document prevent me from handing my mind to “my” ego all over again.
Would you like more reasons as to why I’m not going to “bolt”?
Sometimes it’s more than I can take.
Too sweet, too sour. What a cake...
James needs to be reminded to wash, use deodorant, brush his teeth, shave, and wear socks.
You ask me of his underwear?
Oh, please, my friend, don’t go there...
James’s father grew up in a house with no plumbing. Yes, the one who’s parents were serfs to a landlord in the acreage list somewhere north of Tula city of Russia.
James spent a sizable part of his youth in a house with no plumbing. Meaning: no toilet, no hot water.
Jumping into the lake to wash his boat with a wad of grass used to be all the bathing he cared about. And he’d only and ever do it when HIS BOAT needed it.
His father used to boast that he could shave with a shard of a broken plate.
We should make Jim do that one day and film it. I’m sure See And Be Seen will appreciate a fresh look at humor.
And of the recent memory, James spent three years with a man who spent all the time he possibly could in an animal form. If anything, they were very comfortable together. James used to lick his teacher’s fur for a bath. His teacher could not care less if Jim had dangle berries all around his butt.
When I arrived, James slept on the floor, hugging the already unresponsive Hafnian Wolf. The stench in that den was the stuff of the legend.
The stuff of that den had to be removed, although Jim swore on the periodic table of elements that he kept his ailing teacher clean, and the bedsheets washed.
He kept his teacher clean... Maybe, to their animalistic sense of cleanliness. Like, pulling parasites out of your mate’s fur and eating them. That’s keeping your teacher clean.
Carlton gets bent out of shape when James develops a five o’clock shadow? It is mainly because he was not there when Melekh sent me help cleaning the place up.
At almost fifty years old Jim still struggles with the alphabet of hygiene, and tends to skip letters when no one’s looking.
* * *
“99% of success is resisting the temptation to take the poison from the plate that is being offered by “your” ego.” James swallows hard and lowers his head.
He struggles to turn down the thoughtforms that “his” ego-device produces, like noxious smoke from the exhaust pipe.
He does not know where to find strength not to listen to the ego-statements about how he was forgotten by the world.
Since I have access to his personal Arkchil channel, I can pull not just the footage I want, but his thoughtprocess during that footage. Plus all his feelings at that moment, and why. Boy, does it give you a full, colorful picture!
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 8 (+8)
Carlton-Kellspell River
“I wrote Flavus that I translate patents on fractional distillation of gases from the atmosphere.” James comments as he prepares to channel Melekh’s instructions for our new intro, so to speak.
I love watching him control the bridgeplate. He has some instinctive knowledge. He lived on Andromeda before. But still, it’s not just that. He’s got a lot of firm, inner confidence with sciences.
“And that I work with blokes from the Royal Institute of Great Britain and the Institute of Niels Bohr. What was I supposed to say? That I’m no longer confined to Level 1, and God gave me two lovely studs to fuck in anticipation of being transferred to Level 3?” Jim giggles to himself and glances at Carlton at the desk by the window to the backyard.
He is supposed to be doing his honework, but he is probably busy writing some other letter that is going to bend Jim out of shape yet again. It is kind of his turn now. Leave it to Lord Carlton to arrange for drama with cascading creativity.
“Bridgeplate altar is on and ready.” Christopher comments as Jim keeps on trying to have a small talk with me, while I’m struggling with bringing up my own bridgeplate as a backup.
Flavus is his ex from Level 1. They broke up in 1979, but have remained in each other’s view for 42 years. I don’t know if I even care to know anyone this long.
Oh, and according to Jim, they were together in the Roman Army at least once.
“Honestly, there isn’t anything I could not do in those patents, Samuel.” James is talking to me, but watches Lord Carlton approaching us with a stern face. He’s been giving Kellspell what-for all morning, but now he seems to be really pissed.
“Ready to receive transmission.” Christopher says for the Arkchil Channel, trying his best not to pay attention to yet another mounting swirl of Carlton-Kellspell River.
This transmission is very important to us. It’s part of our new, stronger, more reliable instructions to help us develop better algorithmic immunity against ego-program.
We are getting closer and closer to the Original Source. That means our little secret compound here must be inside of a strobulus. I must pick Christopher’s brain about that.
“I’ll give you a pill that will make you vomit all memories of all men you were ever with, so that your mind knows how to worship ME ONLY, James!”
Oh, is that what set him off? Jim talking to one of his multiple exes has set him off.
Carlton illustrates the point by grabbing Jim by the collar of his shirt, and jerking him up a few times.
James moves his eyes from his bridgeplate, on which he had already finished ten pages of his chemistry homework, while chatting with me, and focuses all his hungry attention on being assaulted by Carlton.
He is probably hard enough to pound nails by now, not even five minutes into their games.
I can’t stop watching them, because James will be on his knees very quickly, unbuttoning Carlton’s pants. The sharpest part of the knife is the sweetest, as per Hafnian Wolf. They will fuss like two cats, until Christopher would take floor with his “Come on, guys!”
Al that instead of focusing all of our attention to receiving a very important transmission!
This may be a “gifted gig”, as Lord Carlton put it, but we are a motley crew and a rowdy bunch in a dire need of leadership.
* * *
Later that day after the transmission we almost missed...
After lunch in the Inner Dinner Carlton is sitting in front of the mirror in a kind of a stiff pose. James makes a few steps here and there behind him, brushing his full head of curly, the lightest of brown hair.
A noise takes place outside. As if someone poured out a bucket full of rocks.
“Careful! You scratched my ear!” Lord Carlton says, suddenly sharp-eyed and alert. “What’s that sound outside?
Yeah. I know what it is. I can see what is going on in the backyard, and Carlton can’t. Not from where he is sitting.
Ah, he is not going to like the answer.
The answer is as follows: It sounded like a bucket of rocks, because it was!
It’s Mr. Rubinstein doing gardening in our backyard. I swear to God, there he is, in his long semi-season coat, stepping on some white rocks on our little path from the backyard to the forest, a bright-orange bucket standing nearby.
He looks up, sees me, smiles and heads on our direction.
Neither of the guys can see him yet, because Leonard is blocked by a curtain.
And my guys are too much into each other to move the curtain.
James slows down his motions, and now one of his hands brushes Carlton’s head most caringly, and the second runs along the waves of Carlton’s hair in a sensual, rousing way.
Carlton resumes his stone-faced stiff position, reminding me of all his lording grandfathers, sitting in their plush chairs just the same, surrounded by their butlers ready to indulge their masters in their every whim.
Shaped by his medium he is unaware of how he looks. He looks like a remnant of times long gone.
Ohh, here comes trouble.
“Hello, neighbors.” Leonard slides the door and sticks his head into our bedroom.
James opens up his mouth, while Carlton turns his head and gets up almost immediately to face the intruder.
“I took a liberty, actually a whole bucket of it, and I poured it on your path in the backyard.” Leonard smiles, and his smile deepens as it gets surrounded by more and more wrinkles in his face.
He has a very kind face, and noble intentions. He explained everything to me after I confronted him that night when Jim got trashed beyond redemption.
“When it rains, it gets muddy on the path. Now you will not get your feet dirty.”
Carlton studies Leonard like he was an alien just landed. Which was Uri Kumlatov, technically, and Carlton did not shoot him with this snake stare nearly as much.
Evidently, it has nothing to do with aliens. But everything with trying to steal Lord Carlton’s mate.
Only Leonard is not trying to do that at all. He is not here to take our Jim. He is here to ensure that Jim and his team is to get where they were supposed to get with no issues.
“Why is he here?” Carlton snaps at me.
I just explained that, right? But I have a mean streak in me, too. Here goes long-deserved what-for for Jim Team.
Um, lessee, Leonard has been living here for three years, waiting for us, and he invested in James when your royal arse was only two years of age. This is why he is here. James is his project, fifty years in the making, that’s why.
But I pick a fourth reason. I can, since I’m an author of this channel, I can pick any reason I want.
“Mr. Rubinstein is here, because you are a League of Extraordinarily Arian Gentlemen, and you need a token.”
“I thought you were working for me, Samuel.” Carlton says through his teeth.
“And I knew your agenda...” James whispers, looking at me, then he puts down Carlton’s comb, and covers his face with his hands.
“I am, my Lord.” I respond with a bow, which cracks up Leonard, but he is too much of a gentleman to show it. I can only see bright sparks playing in his eyes. “A position of the court jester was vacant, so I took it.”’
“Oh, do you have any experience in that?” Carlton picks up the game. “Who did you work for before?”
There we go. A Russian saying goes “the ice started moving”. Between me and Carlton, I guess.
“I worked for James Kellspell before, but you are a much more gratifying target. And bigger, too.”
“As long as I’m bigger than he is!” Carlton considers the threat if me contained enough, and turns back to deal with Leonard.
“You poured a bucket of gravel on our path? Don’t we have staff on premises?”
That would be “thank you”, Lord Carlton. But as a court jester I’m not allowed to correct the monarch. And I’ve used up my quota of sharp political moves for today.
“Well, there was not much to do as I was waiting for you, so I kind of took up those responsibilities. Your backyard actually has a cherry tree with loads of juicy cherries.” Leonard stretches his hand, pointing to the left side of the backyard. “I’ve been enjoying those for three summers now. That’s why I suggested to Melekh you guys be placed in this room here. I prepared your room as much as I could, I trimmed the shrubs and I planted lilies and irises, but I forgot to pour more gravel on your path. And it’s almost spring. It will rain a lot now.”
You must give it to Leonard. He is goal-oriented, driven and strategic thinking. What a valuable member of our team.
But Carlton is going to hold his ground, of course, until he gets answers to his questions, until he can ease his fears of losing James to a much stronger competitor.
The door to our bedroom creaks open and Christopher’s face appears, now lit up by morning sun filtering through the tall ancient pines that surround our compound. If we are inside of a strobulus, then the forest is an illusion.
“Henry, may I come in? I know, it’s early...”
“Anytime, my friend, you know that!” Carlton’s face lights up, and then they both look at Leonard.
“Can you believe this gentleman’s nerve?” Carlton nods towards Leonard.
“In preparing the grounds for spring? He’s been at it all morning. Picking up garbage around this place, and what have you...”
“What?” Carlton scrunches his nose at Leonard while narrowing his eyes the shape of apple flower’s petal. Oval, perfect, captivating.
“He owns this place, Henry. Anyway.” Christopher shakes off the uneasy silence. “I have an important announcement to make.”
“We are going to field practice to Malachite Constellation in three weeks.”
James’s eyes widen and he eases himself to the bed, while Carlton remains frowning and unmoved, and Leonard smiles and gives us two thumbs up.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 7 (+7)
HENRY
“I’m growing old, James.”
“Henry...” James, who was rummaging in the pile of our clothes in the corner {still in the corner!} looks up.
He then gets on his knees in front of Carlton, who is sitting in a chair with the view of the backyard to his right side, and our bed to his left. “My most profoundly brilliant... husband. You are not old at all. You are two years younger than me!” James kisses every finger on Carlton’s hand, bowing between kisses.
It would be comical, but his face bears a detached, blessed expression, and his eyes roll up every time he gets a whiff of Carlton’s long, white hand where every single fingernail is perfectly almond-shaped, polished and manicured. Kind of makes you remember that his royal ancestors ruled multiple colonies across the globe.
This is the first time EVER that I heard James call Carlton by his first name, by the way. Must be those damned letters that they hit each other with.
They kept on getting closer and closer every time “their” egos would find another reason to break them apart.
Carlton frowns.
“I don’t need your math. Leave it for your school. You will brush your teeth twice a day, you will floss, wear socks, use deodorant and act like a gentleman, Mr. Kellspell, or I swear...” Carlton removes his hand away from Jim’s searching, hungry, quivering lips. “I swear, I’m going to let you feel my displeasure.”
And why the heck not. You will brush your teeth twice a day, Jim the savage. This is your price to be allowed to get high on the creme-de-la-creme of the British society.
Not a very high price if you ask me. Question is, why would he care about that society when the man never set his mental thermometer farther than 2 centigrade from Karl Marx.
“Yes, yes...” James lowers his head and touches Carlton’s knee with his forehead. “As my Lord wishes...”
James whimpers quietly as his right hand slides between his legs. He is nursing a huge one.
He has not been this hard for me... oh, ever since Carlton arrived with Sedgefield and Ian on Christmas of last year, which is now two months and five days.
“I will not be associated with a sewer rat!” Carlton raises his voice, and James bends even lower.
“And if you as much as look at another man...”
James is now almost in fetal position in front of Carlton, with his hand between his legs, nodding and whimpering ever so quietly.
“Another man” category does not include me. Boy, did I slip in right under the wire. The Hammersmith aristocrat will be putting a burka on this acquisition. Way to rule! These gates will be shutting soon and loud.
And they should. James used to go door to door looking to hook up with celebrities, because he was awake on Level 2 and would just barge in on their sleeping bodies. Not a single one of those bodies was Jewish. Took me a while to get over his mental discrimination. We will leave this for a later ass-whippin... I mean, discussion, James.
“You will study! I need you to learn the language of chemistry by the end of this year!”
“Yes, my...” James lifts his head and then folds over in a bout of hoarse cough.
He coughs for a few excruciating seconds, and I expect him to cough up a lung, or a river of blood in a dramatic turn of events. Hs anguish-distorted face is that convincing. Convincing. Because he is convinced?
Carlton seems unaffected, as he stares directly in front of himself while James coughs, winces, holds on to his chest, and coughs again, enough to break your heart.
Then a shocking thing takes place. Carlton’s phone from Level 1 rings in the pocket of his thick, posh dressing gown.
Normally we are not allowed to bring in any communication means from Level 1. Why? Because they connect the two hands and not the hand to the head. Each hand must listen to the head, and not to its buddy. There is no getting anything done when body parts go rogue.
Carlton gets up quickly, pulls out the phone, and his eyes widen as he sees the number.
“I’m growing old, waiting for you, James!” He hisses. “I’m growing old!”
Then Carlton stumbles over coughing James, opens the sliding door open, and walks into the woods by a small sand and gravel path.
“I’m growing old.” James scoffs, and it cuts me deep. He is not in the habit to deride Carlton.
“He means that you need to work on getting back in shape faster, Jim.” I try to explain. “If you haven’t noticed, Lord Carlton has been bugging you to solve one of his issues, or another through your most valuable research. He also needs the Key to the Pearly Gates.”
“And if you haven’t noticed, both my teacher and Henry must have eaten the same neurotoxin-laced frog! They are both losing it because they are “growing old”! You realize Hafnian was at my throat over that more than he wanted sex, which was three times a night?”
Ahem, yes, I watched James’s personal Arkchil Channel. I look for the right reply that WILL NOT send my partner spiraling into a psychotic episode. Sometimes silence is the only right reply.
And it pays off. James gets up, wipes his mouth, coughs some more, but less violently, and then searches misty pre-dawn backyard for Carlton.
“Henry has the balls of a brass monkey to be talking about admission to Heaven with a long list of high government officials and a king in his genealogical tree.”
James is sore about that, but what does royal blood have to do with getting through the Pearly Gates?”
“Apparently none of the people he looks up to were able to open it no matter what they had achieved in their lifetime. Just about everyone gets sent back. Back for another flush, James. It may not be Lord Carlton’s turn yet to knock on the Pearly Gates, but it is approaching fast just like ours.”
“You used to literally go door to door on Level 2, looking for a quick lay among the celebrities!” I confront him.
Who knows why. Because I’m sore that he never knocked on MY door? While I was sitting in my cell, GROWING OLD, (thank you, neurotoxin-laced frog), waiting for a man like him to sweep me off my feet!
“For as long as you agree with “your” ego, you are letting it rule your mind! Drive you mad, drown you in pain.” James says slowly, his gaze penetrating the mist in the backyard with palpable intensity.
Whoever called Carlton from Level 1, was close to him, and important enough for the call to be allowed through. That would be his wife. His wife.
“What is the key, Jim? How do we not agree with “our” ego, and what is it that we agree about that has been keeping us HERE instead of going back Home, to the sweetest, long-waiting, most welcoming House Of God?”
“Good question, Samuel, good question, my love.” James nods reassuringly in my direction. “The answer to that is:
“FOR AS LONG AS WE AGREE WITH THE EGO THAT WE WERE WRONGED BY GOD.”
“That’s it? That’s the key?” Carlton inhales deeply, as if in disbelief.
“Yes. That’s why Kyle did not make it! That’s why my teacher is dying. That’s why you are feeling the age and peer pressure. That’s why humanity is DeVo’ing.” James takes a jagged breath and coughs some more. “That’s why I always feel like I’m walking on broken glass.”
I stand there, aghast.
“For as long as you have but just one regret, one grudge, one “i can’t believe he got it and I didn’t”, that indicates that you AGREE WITH THE ORIGINAL CONFUSED STATE OF MIND [formerly known as “sin”] OF GOD’S KID WHO HELD A GRUDGE AGAINST HIS FATHER AND ATE THE DUMB POISON-LACED APPLE TO FALL ASLEEP AND infect himself with the ego-programming, and create 99 LEVELS OF PAIN BY FALLING THROUGH THEM AWAY FROM FATHER...”
“For as long as you agree with that Larger Mind, now non-existent, because YOU have shifted five minutes in time after you fell asleep in the arms of my grieving God!
For as long as you retain a shred of negative beliefs of that unwise, incorrect child, you will be connected to the ego-programming that will continue pushing you away from God, therefore into pain. There, I solved it.”
“How the heck do we get rid of negative beliefs?” I ask ever so quietly, for I’m just talking to myself.
“Sometimes I feel that the iceberg of my negative beliefs is basically all I have. Let go of that, and I will literally cease to exist.”
“That’s it!” James turns to me, his glance feverish, full of fire. “That’s why we keep on re-incarnating. Meaning, falling asleep. We are not ready to “come out of the closet”, where the unwise little Child Of God locked himself up, and is asleep in the reality with no God. A piercingly hurtful reality. A reality that does not have to be. If we let go of all the grudges. And I must. For I want to serve my beloved partner more than I care about the crap “my” ego struggles to preserve its “precious diamonds” - the multiple grudges of life.”
“Or, James, by the end of the day you might wonder why you sold yourself so cheap.” I clear my throat and glance at Carlton.
The man turns into a thunder cloud and goes berserk.
“I am the best!” Carlton growls. Anger itself in the flesh!
I do not know if he is the best. But he is pretty good. Must give him that. One way or another, James loves Lord Carlton. He agreed to sign the Covenant with him.
The Covenant that they signed cannot be broken. Or walked away from.
I know that. I regret I was not THAT desperate at the time. But I did come close second, quite literally.
Anyway, I just like to push the man’s buttons sometimes.
“The ego makes me use my most precious partner to hurt myself, based on INCORRECT PROTOCOL: If THEY seem to have received more than you, attack THEM to restore justice. Make them feel your pain, because, obviously, God loves THEM more than you.”
Wow, that was a long, and a painful nail Jim just pulled out of his soul. Therefore mine.
“Hurt THEM”, James glances at both me and Carlton to make sure he’s got our full attention. “Means hurt yourself. Hurt YOURSELF means hurt God. This is what the machine is forcing us to do. While we are under the drug that was in the apple, locked in the closet, little kid, you, and stabbing ourselves with the scissors, and into the hand. Following the dream, in which THEM need to be hurt because GOD GAVE THEM MORE.”
Yes, this is what I’m talking about. The source for all pain. Illusion upon an illusion. Revenge has its effect even if you never lifted a gun. It was enough that you shot the one who hurt you if only in your mind.
Since you are dreaming, and there is no THEM you are seeing, you are always stabbing your own hand.
“That’s where the pain is coming from!” I exclaim. “Ego’s best kept secret. We just need to wake up some more to see how we are being led on by a program with an anti-God agenda!”
James breathes in from the tube, blue gas emanating from it on the bottom, and white gas escaping through small openings on the top of the tube. He gives me a reassuring look.
“Yes, Samuel! That’s why the Pearly Gates never opened for anyone who Lord Carlton ever held dear.” James’s dark eyes penetrate me to the very bottom of my soul. Just like Krista’s eyes. Only hers were green. “And he said, hm, maybe the savage knows something we don’t!”
I shake my head. “You take that back, Jim. Wrong tone. Lord Carlton signed away his life to you. That is how much he cares. This is how much he believes in your research. And yes, he is right. It’s not going to kill you to wear socks and use deodorant. We should not be having this conversation with a 46 year old man.”
God forgive me, what a rush to slap my James. But he so had it coming! And he is going to straighten up. Now that there are two of us raising the same issue. And Leonard does not look like he’d appreciate an uncivilized Krista.
Well, Mr. Rubinstein, Jim should be all the same shegetz to us. Yet, inexplicably, the stinky savage of Kellspell is more than just that.
“And the only time I can save us all from pain is when I KNOW that I am him.” James continues with his thought. “Meaning, That every time ego-program uses Lord Carlton’s high societal status to compare it with mine to force me to stab “him”, but actually myself, is when I KNOW that Lord Carlton and me is the same entity.”
“Hey now!” Carlton interrupts James, and I smile.
“Moreover,” James watches Carlton adoringly as the latter
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BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 6 (+6)
Aftermath
“I’m sorry I was rude last night.” Gorgeous Lord Carlton took a shower by himself, and is getting dressed. So very properly. Every day. Drives me nuts.
He is so valiant. And profoundly sad. James never showed up.
“It’s ok. I saw a shitstorm coming and I tried to warn you.” I say carefully. “Yes, a better choice of words will happen next time.”
This morning is a miracle all by itself. Spock was wrong. The only time he was wrong, was there. Yes, miracles exist.
It is a miracle James survived the night, judging by the amount of beer bottles I cleaned out of the adjacent room this morning.
It’s a miracle I did not kill motherloving Leonard when I heard him getting into the adjacent room through the sliding door, from the backyard.
And it’s a miracle that Lord Carlton’s devoted heart did not break into tiny pieces.
* * *
“I know you could not resist it.” I venture slowly. I believe this is worth it for both of us. “Asking Moretr to let James write Hafnian Wolf.”
Carlton closes his eyes for a second, then stares at his reflection in the large mirror. What else is there left to do to get ready? Actually, plenty. He is in a dire need of brushing his hair, but he is not there yet.
“You knew he’d be compelled to tell the truth.” I press. He is going to give me answers, no matter how emotionally fragile he now is. You know why? Because he triggered the whole brouhaha.
“I didn’t...” Lord Carlton sighs. He breaks off, breathes a lungful of air and raises his eyes at me. “Samuel, can you say “boyfriend”? Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
Last night left it’s marks on his whole appearance. It’s like he was run over by a herd of buffaloes.
He really did not know what he was pushing James into?
And what good does it do to make James relive his salad days with his teacher, when messages from Hafnian Wolf come less than once a month now, one more despondent than the other? It rips James apart, while there is not a thing he can do.
“Um... Letssee... Yes, no, and I get your meaning.” I respond and catch myself staring at how he rubs his chin with his eyes down in a slow, stunned manner, while listening to my answer.
“I was never allowed to have a boyfriend.” Carlton glances outside in search of Moretr, or, perhaps, Leonard, but finds the backyard windy and deserted.
It eases him somewhat.
His eyes are getting brighter, and his motions are gentle and cautious. Even as he is emerging from an emotional storm that Jim’s letter caused him.
And then the pigeons. I was waiting for those. They flew out as he said “boyfriend”. The flapping of their wings, the luminous skies, the smell of spring in London, all that in his mind almost distracted me from his words.
He wishes he could run hand in hand across London with his BOYFRIEND. There is a long list of reasons as to why this is not going to happen to Lord Carlton in this dimension.
He is sharp, striking in his grief. Too much. Too much for your senses.
“Yes, I wanted him to tell the truth about what he really thinks of me.” A ray of morning sun falls on Carlton’s serious, unblemished face, an I notice how perfect his features are. Like they were carved out of marble by the best of Renaissance masters. “But I didn’t know that it would trigger an attack.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to know the truth.” I begin. I feel for him now more and more. You can’t fake that. Crying inconsolably all night long because his “boyfriend” did not come home. And feeling guilty that you may have caused a breakup.
“I know what you are thinking.” Carlton does not just look tired. He looks like he was beaten up by some gang. His face is streaked with dried up lines of tears, his hair is disheveled.
But his clothing is impeccable, and he wastes no time coming back to life, like a daffodil spring.
We do have a class to attend in about an hour, and I’m planning to attend it dressed in these jeans and this crumpled up t-shirt and these old sneakers, thank you very much.
“Yes, “my” ego wants to exploit Jim’s incredible intelligence.” Carlton walks there and back in front of the mirror, more alert now, seeing what else needs to be done. “But I” He makes a meaningful pause. “I just want to throw myself at his feet.”
Yeah, a little clarification on that would be in order. The ego thing, I mean. “Can your algorithms make me greater yet?” Are you kidding me?
“And in the process you are anxious to know what the man of your dreams really thinks about his student! Because this is your true status here, right? You are here as his student, and you fell in love with your teacher.”
Carlton brushes his hair as he slowly grows confident again.
“Yes, true, all true.”
“You push your man to the edge by forcing him to tell the truth, he goes deep into himself for that, stumbles on a barrel of old poison, goes ballistic, says things he’d rather left unsaid. Boom! You sob through the night.”
“Maybe next time...” Carlton begins.
“Maybe next time, my Lord, we handle it as a team.” I finish firmly.
*. *. *
But all that happened not before...
4 am of last night. It’s been quiet for about half an hour, after grief-consumed Carlton finally cried himself to sleep. I honestly had no idea he had such intense feelings for James. So much for squeezing him for his inventions.
So, I fell RIGHT THROUGH asleep. For I got none up to that moment, listening to a 44 year old man sob for such a long time, suffer so deeply and act so faithfully.
Not even half an hour into solemn silence, not a gust of wind in the pines, the sliding door of the adjacent room opened with a very distinct “thud”, and I heard a quiet whisper of a low male voice. “Krista, may I come in?”
LEONARD.
It could only be him! Not only is he spying on us, but he comes to kick us when we’re down.
He thinks just because Kellspell and Carlton got into a fight, he can now have our Jim.
This is where I lost it, jumped out into the backyard and confronted this guy.
“What is your fucking problem?” I screamed loud enough for poor Lord Carlton to wake up and turn on the light.
The lights from our bedroom flooded the backyard as I got lifted by the collar of my shirt and pressed against the wall of our building.
The sliding door into our bedroom was half open, because I did not close it when I jumped out, so I could hear Carlton gasp when Leonard went after me.
A very strong fucker, he is. He pinned me against the wall between our room and the one where James slept, completely drunk.
Leonard’s wrinkled face was criss-crossed with grotesque shadows, giving it an ominous expression, but his eyes were deep and calm.
“Samuel!” He breathed in my face, and I knew he had been drinking, too. “We are on the same side!”
“Then why do you call him “Krista”?!”
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 5 (+5)
I Am Here For You
In Ways You Cannot Imagine
“Min k;re L;rer,
Jeg har gjort det! Jeg har vores Adelig Engl;nder!”
“Translate!” Lord Carlton orders me.
Oh, heck, go after me so suddenly, and I forgot my new set of skills. How do I pull up the bridgeplate ta begin with?
Christopher to the rescue. His bridgeplate altar appears under his right palm swiftly and gracefully. Way to save all of our asses!
He pulls up the middle white triangle of the bridgeplate, and waves his fingers over the top part of the bridgeplate, where the level equalizer app is.
When enabled, this particular level equalizer searches for the closest most fitting original blueprints of the entity that generated this particular form of communication. And it starts by the “shelf” on which the entity is “filed”. Or, to try and “explain it down”, it searches by the level of consciousness this particular entity represents.
So, basically, one advantage of a level equalizer interpreting software over a regular interpreting software we are used to, is that the first one will translate most exactly what the person experiences, and will reflect the depth and color of this experience, if you will. As opposed to just translating the words, be they spoken, written, or thought.
Let’s continue with that in mind, and I will carry on with explaining Andromedan technologies to the best of my ability, as we go on. And, by God, we will accomplish it, with the help of our wise Hermione Granger... I mean, Captain Christopher on our side.
Translation of the letter from Hafnian to English appears in the air just above the bridgeplate, coming from the “echo screen”.
Carlton moves to Christopher in his elegant, graceful gait. I can come just watching him walk, James would say often. How can a man walk like that and still retain his masculinity, he’d add.
Carlton takes his place behind Christopher to read.
I still struggle to pull up my bridgeplate as James is writing his letter to Maestro K. Actually, I called him that when I arrived four months ago, because I needed to identify a cornerstone of my narration, but I could not use any of his actual names in my record.
But then Uri Kumlatov came and told me to use the nickname Maestro was under in Sheiredi legends. The Hafnian Wolf. So fitting.
“My dear Teacher,
I have done it! I have our Noble Englishman. You were right, his butt smells just as delicious as you described it.
You remember how we used to get high smelling the clothes that you kept all these years? Your clothes in which you worked with The Englishman? The clothes that kept his smell?
Well, imagine all this, twenty times stronger! The heaven I was in when he just arrived! It was Christmas of Kriagir Yaseremshan, too. I went through his entire closet. I came once, and passed out twice, as I smelled his every garment at least three times in five different places.”
I can barely hold myself from laughing reading that, while crying inside, because I was actually there when he did it.
It was not funny to him. To James it was a Holy Confirmation after finally achieving a goal.
The goal. The service he was preparing for three years of his life, and never knew if he’d actually become “buoyant” enough karmically to free up his energy to pay the price of admission to that service.
James stops writing, breaks down, and cries inconsolably for the next ten minutes without stopping for a breath.
“Enough!” Carlton finally touches James’s shoulder.
Carlton seems unconcerned by James’s emotions, wishing to keep him focused.
I don’t blame him, but he could be a tad less cold about it. Getting James to write this letter may not be the best to get the truth out of him.
James shudders, sits still for a few moments, coming around. Then he rubs his face, smearing his tears, and continues writing in the notebook, by pen, in Hafnian.
“I have finally gotten through with the hardest part of my penance, and now I’m allowed to wear men’s dress again. Woo-hoo.
However, it is Melekh’s Will for his agent, not the agent’s own will, like you taught me. I will be a woman again, if He needs me to.
My friend Samuel first brought the good news, and his buddy’s old avatar. I liked it. But when Lord Carlton arrived, he gave me HIS servant’s old avatar to wear instead. As per the new avatar, and the Noble Englishman’s wishes, my name is now James Kellspell.
Teacher, our Noble Englishman, God save him always, gave me an avatar and a name! Do you know what that means? Yes, he wants me. And he is going to keep me. It also means that you trained me well.
I signed off all my intellectual property to him, just like you instructed me. But my stuff is raw. It needs work to be of use to Lord Carlton.
Worry not, I will take excellent care of our Noble Englishman. I will give him my life, like you taught me.”
I notice that James rewrites “som du l;rt mig”, the last phrase in Hafnian, over and over again, and every time the new version goes crooked and over the previously written one.
I look at his face and realize that his eyes are now so swollen and full of tears, that he can’t see where he writes.
The translation over Christopher’s bridgeplate shows “as you taught me” every time James writes it on top of the previous version. Over and over again.
On the fifth time I can’t take it anymore. I feel that he is sliding into a psychotic episode. And no one seems to notice, or care.
“Lu, all of these men tear your heart apart, but I only and ever want to make you happy! Please tell me that you love me still! I want to help, but do you care?”
In desperation I hug shuddering James from behind and watch Carlton make a step away from Christopher, and in our direction with the most fearsome face, I swear.
“I’m afraid there is no time for this, SAMUEL!” Carlton’s eyes are now boiling ocean. Pure anger. He wants the truth, and he is going to shake that truth out of James, even if he must pressure him (and is all) to the limit.
I retreat and crash emotionally. What has just happened? Why would I do that?
Am I a child not to be able to anticipate Carlton’s moods and attitudes? This is his show, James signed off his freedom and his life to this man.
Five years before we met.
James did not waver a second from the moment he laid his eyes on the young Hammersmith aristocrat, and all through five years of incredibly intense spiritual cleansing.
Am I a child not to see it?
No, I’m not a child. James just looked so utterly miserable... And yes, there could be a better choice of words for me.
“I need you to continue writing, James.” Carlton insists.
I beg him to go easy on our only Beta. I do. But, obsessed with his goal of beating the truth out of Jim, Carlton takes little heed.
James turns around to face me. He mouths “I love you”.
This is all I needed.
James then goes back to his letter, and we focus our attention on the bridgeplate.
“A king without grace and mercy is only but usurper of God’s power.” James writes slowly.
Carlton gives me a weird and unpleasant look, and I lower my head. No, I don’t know why he wrote the last phrase. Yes, I’m sorry for butting in with my agenda.
James is still for a long, excruciating minute, either thinking, or spacing out. Then he carries on.
“I do not want to be that king. I would rather have mercy than power, I would rather have grace than money.
Oh, and by the way. I know that you cared way more about Isaak than Kyle, but neither of them made it to this secret compound, Level 2. Michael did not make it, either. But Leonard did.”
He mentioned me, too, in the very beginning. That should have kept me satisfied. But I had to jump in.
“If I was to choose, I would certainly choose none of them, but a gun, or some quick, powerful poison. Plenty grow in the woods right outside this compound. Should be a no-brainer.”
Here we go. He just hit a “point of no return” into a psychotic episode. Somehow, “I told you so” just does not quite say it!
“Also, Lord Carlton is an omega, not an alpha. Yes, oh teacher, imagine my surprise.
Does not change anything for me, but everything for you. Because, obviously, even in the best of circumstances, with all His Mercy and Grace, he will not top you.
Good news is there is enough of me for the two of you. Three of you, actually. I married a very cute man two weeks after I lost you and six weeks before I married Lord Carlton. What? I have hot Mongolian blood in me. And no, no more brides. Lord Carlton will tie my dick in a knot if he finds me as much as looking at another man.”
There, he mentioned me again. Must have been because I raised the fuss. Squeaky wheel, and all that jazzz. But it is not going to stop now. You watch. The Hammersmith smartarse is going to regret this quest of his for the truth.
“The last, but not lost on me, and certainly not the least. Thanks for keeping me in the dark that your brother was in Lord Carlton’s employ. I love being ambushed by reality. I mean, nothing like the rush of being caught totally with my pants down. Twice. I did not believe Carlton the first time. He had to intro us TWICE. I was that shocked.
However, I also know you well enough to realize that you did not do it just to trip me. You cut him out of your life, you never thought of him, you did not care.
Who am I to judge you, when I did the same to my whole family? But the point is, now that I got a chance to meet him, and look into his eyes, I must tell you, that he cried and suffered just as much as you. If not more.
I must say that for the history. For I swore to be fair. Fair to everyone. Not just myself and those I care about.
You are never going to receive this letter, so I’m going to say that I think I have cancer.
Right in time, too. I’m done. I’m so done with this. I had very few happy days in my life. About 2%. Then there were days of pain, and the days of rest.
The days of pain were when I walked on hot embers with my bare feet.
The days of rest were when I walked on broken glass.”
Carlton’s face stiffens, and I’m not going to say anything again. I learned my lesson trying to protect James. Not welcome. See if Carlton figures out what he has done. See how much the truth is going to cost him.
“The three years of penance under your command we’re the best years of my life, for I believed that you loved me.
We both know that all Lord Carlton wants from me is my developments and algorithms. I will give it to him before I take it to my grave. I could not use them, let someone else do it.”
Carlton’s mouth falls open, with a frown between his brows, and a terrified, wild look in his eyes.
But it is too late for James.
He should not have been allowed to write this letter. He spirals deeper and deeper, like a hit airplane.
“We both know that I’d need to be born Michael Bloomberg to be able to afford Lord Carlton.”
Carlton is now pale like a winter morning.
And James is unstoppable like a frustrated, belligerent weather storm.
But maybe we needed to find ourselves in three feet of his tears. Maybe that had to come out.
Because after he was given a go, James started writing so fast that we have not had a chance to set up the translation right away.
“What was our problem lusting after HIM, anyway? I thought I was old and wise enough not to make a rookie mistake of falling in love with someone five hundred levels above you!
It was literally easier for me to reach for God than Lord Carlton.”
Carlton now looks half angry, half lost, but fully engaged with the passion hard to measure, with the power that makes you sit on the edge of your chair.
“We should have just gotten a cat instead.
I guess this is it for today.
Next time you feel like dying, remember that you are immortal. And know that I will find you. Love me or not, but you signed the Covenant with me, in your blood.
If you don’t want me anymore, just know that I felt the happiest with you. You opened up to me. You let me drown in your pain. I was never so close to anyone in my life.
I’m no longer afraid to kneel at your gravestone. In lieu of stupid flowers I’ll put a can of beer and a pack of cigarettes. I’d put my heart in there, too, but it is already given to the most valuable and adorable bride you taught me how to secure.
I owe you all the happiness I have now. And I will man up to what is coming with you. It will not be the first time.
But beyond grave there is Life. You are forever in our Noble Englishman’s employ. You signed the Covenant.
If he is made king, you will be called to his throne. This is where we will meet again.
Min k;rlighed for evigt,
Din elev”
James puts dow the pen and lets himself loose. Lost in his suffering, he collapses into a psychotic attack, and cries for the next two long, excruciating hours.
Surprisingly, Carlton shakes off his shock, sits down at the desk by James, and cries, too. I watch him, for he is irresistible. He is divinely distinct in his grief, and slow realization.
Christopher tries desperately to stay composed, reporting the whole brouhaha to Melekh. He talks into the bridgeplate, begging Him repeatedly to have James’s lungs x-rayed.
We can’t help his teacher, but we sure can help James.
Eventually Kellspell gets up, and walks away without paying any attention to any of us.
He locks himself in the room adjacent to our bedroom, and spends the night drinking alone.
We are left to pick up the pieces. Like Lord Carlton. Transfixed by the things that transpired, and after having cried for at least an hour, he is motionless. His back straight, his eyes staring at the writing board just ahead of him.
This was a bad slap in the face. But somehow I feel that he is going to weather it well.
“Just for the record, Samuel” Carlton finally makes an effort to get up, and brings his face close to mine. “I will not give up on him. We’ve come this far. I want him more than I am insulted. One of us has to be bigger than that.”
His eyes do not swell all that much when he cries, but the skin gets really red right around his eyes, which gives him not sad, and not miserable, but a demented, feverish look.
He talks with that look.
Irresistible to watch.
I became so entranced with his skill to capture your mind, that I did not pay attention to a single word he said.
“And I am the one who will be bigger than “that”. Because I am invested with the most gifted gig on Earth.”
With that Carlton got up and went to our bedroom.
I had to rewind the Arkchil channel to figure out what I missed.
I missed a very good thing Carlton said.
He did not waste his time applying for Martyrdom, and then being assigned to the harshest teacher from the land of Skifs. Well, I mean, in our disposal.
James does not know it yet, but teachers come in all shapes, forms, sizes and methods, too.
“If it is any consolation,” I follow him to the bedroom. “The first year of Jim’s penance was hell, too until they figured out “where is who’s tail”, so to speak in wolf.
Dogs, too. They, uh, lay together in a den, all intertwined, and they need to lay so no one is stepping, laying or chewing on the wrong tail or a leg, right? That’s what it means in wolf language. It took them a year to settle between themselves. Before they became amalgamated together, like one piece statue. Two dogs, one statue...”
I trail off, because I notice that Carlton lays on Jim’s side of the bed with his eyes closed.
“Now these two must make room for you. You are the product, the result of their consorted effort.”
I finished my though just for myself and the Arkchils.
Then I went for dinner.
We have a common room in the compound, called INNER DINNER.
It is a round-the-clock lunch room. Large hall. No one but us and Leonard, however. Who orders room service most of the time, anyway, so I did not expect him to be there.
Little did I know we were going to face off soon enough.
Nice place. There is always a schnitzel there for me.
After dinner I found out that James never came back, and Carlton was crying. He gave me a startled look, but that was it.
We did not talk the rest of the night.
I turned away, turned off my light, and went to sleep.
He shed large tears that shined and sparkled in the light of a new moon (It was Niarastina Svangibir of moon cycle), and I could watch him endlessly. Like tide, like fire, like rain. But it would be too intrusive.
So I left the poor man to it.
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 4 (+4)
Prince Moretr of Thermopolis
His skin was dark, but his eyes were darker. His eyes were the color of the sky that cried too much.
The NIGHT sky that cried too much.
His facial features were similar to that of Sardonyx Eridani, but more refined, and sharper.
“Samuel, good morning. I’m Prince Moretr..”
The man with the sky-that-cried-too-much in his eyes made a pause during which I was supposed to faint out with horror and disgust, I guess.
If you watched “Bloody Roses Of Kloritahan”, or any other Book of “My Gentle Prince” you’d know that Prince Moretr was the evil guy in every story ever told by Eridani Industries.
“I’m here as your acting Alpha. Melekh sent me. I know you are leaderless right now, and I will do my best to stay as long as I can. But at this stage of political developments in Andromeda Federation I might be needed back in Arzadellin sooner than is believed.”
He came from the backyard, through the sliding glass door this morning, alone and unannounced.
A wave of very pleasant, warm air reached me as he approached. The wave washed my soul with unexplainable joy. We experienced similar things with Melekh, but His force field was different.
Moretr stood in our bedroom only for a brief moment. After introducing himself, he stepped right back outside. And remained there.
I felt the air cooling off around me almost instantly. And I longed to be back into Prince Moretr’s warm, welcoming force field. That’s how ALL Grehedis are. More on that later.
My guys were taking a shower.
Prince Moretr. The bad guy of Andromeda. The cruel capitalist. The disowned blood of Thermopolis Branch, they said. He got what he deserved, the media sang along.
In fact, no one knew what is it that he got, and whether he deserved it or not. Sardonyx Eridani never publicly spoke about disowning his son. He never gave a reason why.
He just kicked at the time, 25 million year old Moretr, out of his Stelarius-on-the-Sea Palace. And took away Moretr’s right to use “Sardonyx” as his last name for continuation of the Thermopolis Dynasty.
Which, simply speaking, was the act of being disowned for a Grehedi. Especially for a Grehedi from such a famous, ancient, fundamental Branch as Thermopolis.
No one knew if General Merelion was ever disowned by his father. Or General Gadanvihari for that matter. Both gentlemen sported a very poor lineage. The society cared little for who their fathers were, or what they did, if anything.
But the Thermopolis Branch... The ancient, the renowned, the wealthiest. The closest to Leot.
You get kicked out of an establishment like that, and it is like getting kicked out the Buckingham palace, right? Every dog on Piccadilly is going to want to know why.
So, here he was, Prince Moretr in all his tarnished glory. His money is loud, but his voice is quiet.
He owns Arzadellin City Of United Wells, the capital of Andromeda Federation, but he comes from the back door.
He lived catty corner from House Of Bridge of his Mother, Gina Yasmin, but they havent’t spoken in eons.
He lived his fame, and he owned his shame. Ten million years of it.
I want to know more, but Carlton and James are out of the shower.
I can hear Carlton reciting the lines from Kellspell’s records with desperation of a wounded and dying:
“You know when your fan base had had enough of you? It is when they drank you to the bottom. You are human, you have a bottom. Once they get to that bottom, they know who you are and what you can do, and they are done with you, then. They move on to someone else.”
James wrote that somewhere. Lord Carlton read it. And that bent him out of shape. So much so he learned this passage by heart.
“Don’t worry, my Lord, I will make you the greatest of them all!” James wipes Carlton’s back as gingerly as if he was the most expensive ancient statue at a museum.
Dab-dab-dab with the towel across Carlton’s firm shoulders, as this middle aged man makes his way to the closet that only has his clothes now.
Dab-dab-fab down Carlton’s small back, and a glance at Carlton. Was that pleasing to my Lord, blah-blah, is this towel not too rough on my Lord’s skin? And all that subservient jazz. Kill me.
When Carlton arrived two months ago, Christopher, with a perfunctory apology, threw all of our stuff out of the closet, and into the corner, to make room for Lord Carlton’s extensive, luxurious wardrobe.
What do you do? You raise fuss. You complain. At the very least you might ask for an explanation.
What did James do? He cared nothing for our stuff thrown about the bedroom in piles.
Instead, he was in that closet for an hour sniffing Carlton’s pants, shirts, socks. As I came back from the dinner, which I was forced to attend alone, my James was on his knees with his nose in Carlton’s shoes, crying. Sniffing, and crying.
That moment I was happy to have secured my job, for I knew I would have never been able to secure his heart.
Because there is no way my shoes smell that good.
This is a deranged narration.
And I have to say it all with a smile on my face.
I’m paid, and paid well, to convert this man’s deranged life into a deranged narration, while smiling.
You think I’m stupid? I want to see you find a financially enviable job where all you need to do is write down everything you hear, and smile.
I can be drunk, I can be stoned on my ass, no one cares, for as long as you type and smile. Type and smile.
Oh, Samuel of Salem, how far you’ve fallen! This one is for you!
I’m drunk, yes, and I just sniffed Carlton’s shoes.
Eww. They are just men’s shoes, for God’s sake. Nothing wrong with those.
But there is something wrong with me. I’m in love with a critter. Not a man, but a critter. James is an animal...
Back to the quote about bottoms. Ha-ha.
Frankly, I don’t believe this is what happens. I’ve known rabid fans who stayed with their, sometimes publicly, tarnished idol, no matter what.
I’ve known idols who had large followings when they deserved none.
And I’ve known idols who got too few followers compared to the depth of talent and intelligence they possessed.
So, I don’t know about “drinking your idol to the bottom”. And don’t give me generalized statements. I’m not moved. I think it is all about screen time. Sorry. Let’s hit it where it hurts.
But Carlton was moved enough by that platitude.
The point is, the flustered Carlton begged James to give him “the bottomless capacity” even before he stumbled upon that quote.
Can you make me greater than what I already am, Carlton asked more than once. And I could not believe his nerve.
Yes, James answered breathlessly, while shrugging his shoulders dismissively.
Can you make me the greatest among them all, Carlton pressed, his eyes narrowed on one spot in the wall, as if he was planning to burn a hole through it.
Yes, James would reply patiently, I will make you a household name world over.
A few fairy tales came to my mind as I watched Carlton taking James’s work very seriously. Is that why he is here? To use James’s algorithms to arm “his” ego? Am I slow on the uptake?
One about a king who ordered his court alchemist to develop an “immortality pill”.
And another one about this woman having a conversation with the mirror, and if she was the most beautiful of them all, and stuff. Only her mirror could not actually MAKE her most beautiful.
Yes, James would nod calmly, I will do whatever my most noble Lord Carlton wants, with an expression that could be read as “is that all it takes for you to let me fuck you?”
James and Carlton disappear in the small, but a walk-in closet nevertheless. Now they are going to spend about half an hour there dressing Lord Carlton, with James expressing long flattering opinions about Carlton’s physique and choice of garments.
There stands Prince Moretr, in the backyard of our compound, right outside, the ancient pines moaning, swinging with the wind behind him.
He is biding his time, watching us, taking it all in.
Melekh trusts him to take care of us. To help us develop “algorithmic immunity” against ego-logic.
Immunity. Against. Ego.
And what James is doing right now in the closet is rubbing Carlton’s ego for the day. Giving it a good, nice massage, and empowering it.
With renewed strength and confidence, Carlton is going to walk around, staring us all down from his six feet of height plus slightly narrowed eyes, and oh, please give me some vodka.
Or just hit me over the head. Cheaper and more effective.
Moretr nods to me while still standing outside. “It’s going to be alright”, his face reads.
James and Carlton finally get out of the closet.
No pun intended. This is not going to happen to either one of them, deeply closeted homosexual gentlemen.
Resplendent Carlton finally notices Moretr in the backyard.
“Who is this?” Carlton slashes the glass door with his electrifying glance of blue fire.
Merciful God, He is beautiful, ok. No arguing here. But he never lets you forget it. He never puts it down. He swats you with his good looks. He wears coats with a standing collar.
“Let me handle this, my Lord!” James looks at the new arrival once, makes a few steps back and falls backwards on the bed with an astonished face.
I was kind of waiting for that one. Because James knows Prince Moretr darn well.
Kellspell is trying to get a hold of himself. Carlton is waiting for explanations.
Yes, James, this is Prince Moretr. Ahem, the cruel capitalist. The fat cat that could put all the American capitalists in one basket, and spin it with one hand like a bunch of kittens.
A thought-form separates from Moretr’s head, floats slowly through the glass sliding door, like thick fog, and unfolds itself into a map of colors as it melts into the air.
James looks at the Instructions floating in front of him in an array of dissipating colors, and nods.
The power of a Grehedi’s order influenced James’s human brain incomparably stronger than his desire to strangle the fattest cat of them all.
That’s why you can’t harm, or outmaneuver a Grehedi. Not only are they at least twenty steps ahead of you, but usually you are a text book case to them. Like, your typical chimp to a nature researcher. Allright, maybe not a chimp, but a cute puppy. The result is all the same.
You can’t blame James for reacting like that to Moretr. He actually lived on Andromeda as an Estelian, at the time when Eridani Industries was all the rage. James watched the adventures of Bruno Libra, and his struggles with helping the plight of workers at Moretr Enterprises.
And then in this lifetime every friend he ever chose was either a rabid socialist, or two clicks away from jihad, or both.
There he goes, trying to get his brain around the fact that we have the bloody Prince Moretr on the premises.
“Melekh sent us a substitute Alpha”. I gather enough courage to explain.
“Why not Messir Hart?” James mumbles miserably in response. That’s what he finally found to say.
Little does he know that Messir Hart is already here, just not in the form he is expected to be seen. Krypton gas. Blue and white. White and blue, very important. We will be inhaling Messir Hart. More on that later.
“Who is this? Who is Messir Hart?” Carlton frowns and scrunches up his nose. It makes him look more threatening than funny, actually.
He still has not gotten over Leonard showing up to take “Krista” out for dinner.
That did not sit well with Lord Carlton, and now he’s got the hair on the back of his neck all up at the sight of ANY unannounced strangers wanting a piece of his James.
“No, my noble Lord, this is, um, Prince Moretr... He... um... He apparently took over Eridani Industries, last week. What a disaster! Both Sardonyx and Bruno Libra will be turning in their graves!”
We will see to that. Christopher just showed up with a communique. Let me see this. Something is brewing. “Christopher and Samuel! Don’t tell Uri Kumlatov that I’m here. Not yet. You will receive further instructions on what to do.”
Christopher gives me the meaningful look, and pulls the file back into the bridgeplate.
I like Uri Kumlatov, though. Why should I not tell him?
Christopher can hearcmy thoughts if we are both near the bridgeplate. It unites our consciousness, I guess. Something about atomic reaction that it triggers. Oh, mercy, don’t quote me on this stuff.
“Moretr is a Grehedi.” Christopher quickly fixes my polarizing lens the correct way. “And he told us he will be our “acting Aloha”. Uri never said that, did he?”
I nod. Makes perfect sense. I’m with it. Everyone follows Moretr, and not Uri.
But wait, what did Moretr’s message to James say?
I try to bring up my own bridgeplate altar. There is a level equalizer app on it that would help me translate colors into a message I could wrap into alphabet.
Curse my ADD. Most of the time during class I watch Carlton and James squabble, or James worshipping Carlton shamelessly right in front of everyone. Or Carlton asking James for another “magic trick” for himself.
Oh, hey, here we go. I did bring up the bridgeplate, but Christopher helped me to find the level equalizer. He came here right in time, then. I think he is more informed than he lets us see.
Got it. Got the translation.
Moretr says on behalf of Melekh Shel Zahav: “Give him whatever he wants”.
Encouraged with help where he did not expect any, James proceeds to blow non-existent dust off Carlton’s jacket.
Then he polishes Carlton’s shoes with his t-shirt.
For the love of God, we’re only going next door to the chemistry class!
At the chemistry class James is the center of Moretr’s attention. He gets grilled on isotopes of aluminum.
And I go through Carlton’s letters. Those that James found in Carlton’s luggage.
Letters. The damned letters. What pissed James off was that in those letters Carlton said that he was no longer homosexual. And James got all bent out of shape over that.
Right. That’s why Carlton gets screwed by a man every night. Because he renounced his homosexuality. He is no longer a homosexual.
Now he is just gay.
James needs to choose his battles. It’s not like Michael Jackson renouncing his African-American roots, and actually doing something about it.
I don’t think there is a thing you can do to choose your sexuality. But you can crawl deeper into the closet, and wear a badge that says “NOT HOMOSEXUAL”, or something.
Or write a bunch of letters, in which you try to escape from yourself. Get your partner freaked out, that you “renounced” it, and that you “decided to hang it up”.
And then suck his dick.
While he reverberates about the letters in which you renounce your homosexuality.
Is it me, or are these men ridiculous in their insecurity? See, if Christopher finds it funny when he reads my channel next time.
* * *
“Do you still find me morally fragile and impressionable?” Carlton asked me the other day.
Actually, yes. I’m also beginning to find you unbearable.
I got evicted from the closet, and my (and Kellspell’s stuff, too) clothes are now in a box in the corner. While you’ve got the whole closet all for yourself.
And then, to add insult to the injury, I myself got pushed into the corner both on the bed, and in James’s heart.
Maybe I should start a list of things unbearable, caused by Lord Carlton’s arrival.
The funniest part is that I was not in Kellspell’s life when he lived with the Hafnian Wolf. I’d probably be having “unbearable” for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The whole idea of Magnificat is selfless, unconditional love. I’m probably just envious of James’s ability to get over Carlton’s snide attitude.
He handles Carlton like a honey badger handles a scorpion. “No matter how much you bite me, I’ll be sucking you like a popsicle tonite”.
“You are here to build algorithmic immunity against ego-protocols. Namely, fear.
Once you give yourself up to God, there is no fear. You are almost there.
You have “your” ego logically surrounded, it stops releasing the “signal of fear”.
Fear is ego’s strongest weapon against you. Once you realized that the machine HAS NO WEAPONS against you, because what it calls “fear” is but a crumpled piece of paper, you can finally join Father with no impediments.
You suppress the ego logically, you have develop a so called “algorithmic immunity”. Now you know what was on that piece of paper that ego called “fear”, and always scared you with it.
The ego-machine is discredited. You straighten up the wadded piece of paper, and there, written by Father’s Hand, are the most desired, most awaited Words.
“TRUST ME. I WILL ALWAYS TAKE CARE OF YOU.”
This is all there is to it.
The algorithmic immunity against ego-interference is complete. Now you are ready for the adventure of your life.”
Prince Moretr’s explanatory lectures.
Lord Carlton’s pigeons.
Lots of them.
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 3 (+3)
A Couple Of Hours In The Morning
I usually have a couple of hours in the morning before classes to review the events that took place via Arkchil Record, and maybe add some more details to my own record, as the images would stir my memory.
Sometimes the task is overwhelming, for so much happens as per Arkchil Record as opposed to how much I’ve actually managed to write down.
I mean these guys are five per subject, recording everything from atmospheric conditions, to a speaking person’s blood pressure to every single convoluted, torn strand of thought we chew through.
That is besides our actual words, actions, facial expressions. Smells. Reflections of past traumas in our eyes and how THAT affects the present frame. Everything. All the time.
I think the Arkchil Rule is six Arkchils per every “monoclinic square of space”, or something. Oh, don’t quote me on that. Our dear, respectful, reliable, and a straight A student Christopher will fill in the terminology later.
He will fact-check everything in my memoirs, and cross-reference it with many Archives, available to him. So I’m safe. No blunders.
The entire Arkchil nation is at it least ten billion years old. They were CHRONICLING THE UNIVERSE for at least this long.
Arkchils were not the first species that reached an AE status (never mind separate “cameraman individuals” that we know them as. That is an illusion), but they achieved it earlier than Leot’s Sian species. Which gave them an advantage over the likes of ego-leaning AE individuals like Leot in terms of keeping the Records safely out of their grabby hands.
Arkchils are very picky as to whom they trust with countless of monoclinic cubes of records of every corner of this Universe for the last ten billion years. Nothing to shake a stick at.
And I’m just one lonely me. A human guy, typing everything into James’s phone with one finger, constantly hitting the wrong buttons.
Like the switch to Hafnian keyboard. Yeah, swear under your breath at weird Hafnian letters, hit the “globe” language once, hit it twice, still not back to English... Oh, the keyboard full of smiley faces? Who installed that here? Hafnian Wolf could not install it to save his life. If he was computer literate, then he cared nothing about smiles. “Smile”, or literacy, for that matter, was not anything he ever practiced.
Ahem, 8 minutes later being stuck between my convoluted thoughts and keyboards, I missed a hot exchange between Lord Carlton and James.
Carlton is in front of the mirror, sliding his hand into his pants to tuck in his snow-white shirt in precise, razor-sharp movements of his palm.
He is upset at what happened earlier this morning in the shower. And I would be, too.
But the sharpest part of the knife is the sweetest part of it, Hafnian Wolf taught James. God, the meaning of this struck me much later, like a ton of bricks.
“Your inconsiderate behaviour, and the “I do before I think” modus operandi will stop, James.” Carlton says while studying himself in the mirror with the same fierce stare he sometimes nails me to the wall with. He simply can’t help it. He is used to being served, and served properly. “I’m going to teach you some manners.”
Oh, Heavens, this phrase is such an ancient cliche, but in this setting, right now, it sounds very correct. Sharp, and exactly to the point.
Lord Carlton thrives on being sharp and exact. And proper. Don’t forget proper. That’s his upbringing, and he owns it with every breath he takes.
You know why it sounds so sharp and to the point? Because this morning, as they were taking a shower together, James poured a cupful of icy-cold water on Lord Carlton’s genitals.
I mean, not the kind of service the man of his social status would expect.
Or any man on this planet regardless of status, I’d assume.
I heard a muffled growl and a thud, as I sat in bed catching up with my chronicles. I immediately knew what happened.
Oh, James... Shame on James. Or should we just call him “Shames”?
The man did this to me, too. And the thud happens when the shock of cold water hitting your privates throws you against the wall of the shower.
Teaching the man some manners is in order, yes.
What happens is James spend most of his childhood in a house with no plumbing. Jumping into icy-cold waters of a nearby lake was all the bath he knew.
He walks into a shower before it gets warm. He pours a cupful of freezing water over his head, his body, and his genitals. That’s what you do in the shower, right?
We finally leave the bedroom, down the hall, and into the classroom.
The pre-dawn forest is shrouded in mist, with first light chasing shadows across our desks and chairs, making the classroom look like it holds within itself all the mysterious secrets of the Universe.
In the absence of a teacher, Christopher greets us, and places his hand on the bridgeplate altar.
A hexagonal screen appears in front of the writing board with Uri Kumlatov on it. I recognize this tape right away.
“Do you know why you are here?” Kumlatov walks
“You are here, at this Level 2 undisclosed compound, to develop immunity to some of specific ego-agitators and ego-logic in general.”
Oh, yeah, in reality here he went AWOL off topic, berating James for his ADD.
No, he does not have any ADD. Not when he stares at Lord Carlton. He can stare at Lord Carlton all day, he can scan his whole naked body to remember every freckle on it. And kiss it many times over.
He only has ADD when he stares into nothing during lectures... :).
Yeah, these couple of scenes are hilarious.
“Why would you be worried about coronavirus if you are a diplomat? Diplomats have their immunity!”
That was during a class with Uri. Not the actual Uri, that would not have ended well with Commander Uri Kumlatov, but it was during a recording one of his lectures, projected and run by Christopher. Our holy, heart of gold, long-enduring Captain Christopher. He is like a ten year old in charge of three five year olds while waiting for the adult to come.
We are in a bad need of an alpha, or a more or less permanent teacher.
Talking about teachers. James is now scared shitless about his cough, and is trying to quit smoking. He is down to an equivalent of ten cigarettes a day. Which is not bad. He took up chewing on sunflower seeds.
Why sunflower seeds, I asked him the other day.
They taste like my teacher’s feet, he responded.
He’d let you lick his feet, I prompted, torn between laughing and envying him for the love he felt for Hafnian Wolf.
No, Samuel, he wouldn’t.
James hugs my hips and makes sensual pushing moves into my jeans-clad ass. I’d have to wait till he was drunk and asleep, James says with a nostalgic sigh. Then I could fuck him all night long. And sniff his big dog feet, and rub oil into the pads. Such worn out pads, James adds, and at this point of our conversation he cries every time.
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 2 (+2)
“To give in to the mis-programmed mumblings of the ego-device is a destiny of a lazy mind.
It takes a loving and a fair heart to choose to hear the Voice Of God instead.”
How’s that for an epigraph to help us all here? Nowhere does it say that you need an intellect to be with God. The meek will inherit the Earth. The MEEK.
* * *
“Samuel, do you like this shirt?” Lord Carlton asks me as he turns around in front of the mirror.
A white shirt is a white shirt, even from “Marks & Sparks”. Which used to be more elitist and less commonwealth, I think. Unlike it has become now. So he probably did not order it from there.
Anyone can wear a white shirt. But it looks royal on Lord Carlton. For it is never about the dress as much as it is about what it covers.
Should I tell him that? Flatter his lovely stature and resplendent physique? I will, then, sound like James.
“If it takes someone five minutes to answer as simple a question as that, Samuel, then they are either not interested in the conversation, or busy with their own thoughts, or both.”
There is justified disappointment in Carlton’s tone. He comes to expect a certain treatment, and he wants explanations if he does not get it.
“Sorry, this shirt looks good on you.” I respond in a belated and apologetic way.
He is correct, as most of the time. I was deep in my thoughts.
I had a weird dream last night. I dreamt that my body went tight and unresponsive, out of my control, mumbling to itself, not me. In other words I experienced being wired to the ego-robot. It was terrifying.
But James came and said something in Russian. He kept on repeating that phrase with confidence and passion, until my body let go, and with a sigh of relief I was myself again.
Upon awakening I requested the Arkchil record of my dream and the translation of the phrase.
While I waited, i watched James worship Carlton’s body with abandon, as they both laid in bed by my side. The muscles on Carlton’s sweaty chest glistened in the morning sun as he moved slowly, rhythmically, absorbing the pleasure of James’s heartfelt caress.
Having made love to his trophy partner, James got ready and left for his chemistry class, stating to himself as he walked out of the door: “This be classy enterprise, bitches.”
The funniest part was that James would not know “classy enterprise” if it hit him in the head.
Enough of watching James and Carlton. Watching them, recording them, then jerking off to the footage of truly majestic motherloving Carlton melting in James’s embrace in the moonlight.
James might just go after his prey with a swollen cock and zero thought, but Carlton surrenders with resplendent grace. Which is not always easy with his six foot a man and a half frame. He is used to towering over people if only just because of that.
And here he is, on his knees, by the glass door with no curtains, for all the pine trees to see. For the moon to lovingly touch his body, and for James to dominate him any way he wanted.
A clandestine, breathtaking submission.
Did I say enough of these star-crossed lovers? Did I say that I had no right to be jealous or envious? That I swore on my mother that I was not going to give in to ego-whisperings? Abandon the mental torment that if only I got to James sooner, I could have been the one on my knees in the moonlight today?
Did I mention how bitterly I failed?
What were we talking about before I slid into my favorite puddle like the old pig that I am?
Oh, yeah, this is what Arkchil Network revealed as far as Kellspell’s utterings in my dream. James said: “Sila Yego Bezgranichna, Vlast Yego Vechna.” Which translates as “His Strength Is Limitless, His Power Is Eternal.”
That’s exactly how it sounded in my dream. The words were fierce and penetrating, even as I could not understand any of it then.
The power of calling Father, focusing all your attention on Him, made the mumbling robot insignificant.
The silly, blind device ceased to matter.
The ego no longer had control over my mind. Because James called upon Father to help me resist the machine.
Carlton finishes dressing for James and looks at the Andromedan triangular rainbow intergalactic are you kidding me clock on the ceiling.
[we do have pictures of the device, and specs available curtesy SENCI via Fractal Interface Channel]
Heck, I can’t believe Kumlatov had that installed in our bedroom. But it is there to give us the Standard Andromedan 36 hr day. And internal Eridani Industries 24 hour day of Stelarius on the Sea. Stuff like that. So we do not call Uri Kumlatov at 12 am at night, haha.
Since we’re 2.8 million light years away from the nearest transmitting station on Andromeda, the darned clock aimed at locals is meaningless here.
It took us a week to learn of Sardonyx Eridani’s death. It took us three weeks to learn that Prince Moretr was assigned by Leot to take over a massive empire of Eridani Industries.
The only phone call we could ever make would be an emergency ping.
But I guess if James is being prepared to depart, he is departing to Andromeda. At the very least we better get used to their way of seeing time.
It does not take Carlton long to focus his attention on me.
“He thinks me an idiot, Samuel? A beautiful idiot, right?” Suddenly desperate, Carlton goes for my throat. “Tell me, while he is in class, he is going to be back soon! Please tell me what he thinks about me!”
Carlton is now so close to me. I have to learn to like his perfume, and his mannerisms, and his obsession with his own image.
We are together for a long run.
“James wanted a gorgeous omega, and Father got him a gorgeous omega.” I say into Carlton’s ear very quietly. “He paid for his omega with three years of penance. I still have hard time processing some images of what they did to him during that time.”
I do, I seriously have issues. The footage is available to me in its entirety. Over a thousand days worth of footage.
James being raped, many times. James drinking heavily. James, beaten and bleeding, being dragged down the hall by two burly men. The two men that I know.
Hafnian Wolf and Isaak.
I force myself to stop the mental tape of images.
Then I run my hand down Carlton’s tight pumped up chest that James slobbers over every night, having left his mind behind together with his clothes.
“Let me tell you that he has paid for you with his blood, and his sweat, and his tears, and the last dignity he had.” I say to Carlton, while looking into his eyes. I want to project what I saw into his self-absorbed mind. And I want to see it in his eyes.
See what? Embarrassment? Gratitude? Desire to match James’s valor in wanting to win Carlton’s heart?
I expected to see all that in his eyes, and then some.
The texture of the fabric of Lord Carlton’s shirt is very smooth to the touch. So, he wears expensive garments. Why not. Who cares.
Like a kid in the cinema, I sat on a chair with a bag of pop corn and prepared to watch Carlton pop way louder than my corn.
“Oh, no, he has not paid anything yet.” Carlton shrugs while pinning me to the wall with his intense stare. Returning me my glance, not sparing me for a second, taking no prisoners. “That was just a shower before his work.”
“What?” I gasp.
His serious face does not change after that. Not a bit. He is not giving a second thought to over nine hundred days worth of footage of that, ahem, “shower before work”.
Just like that.
Pop.
There goes my head.
END OF SCENE
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
CHAPTER 1 (+1)
To Worship Him Shamelessly
“The stupid ego-robot IS NOT ALLOWED to judge Father’s decisions, do you get this, you quarreling, psychotic lot?”
“Question is, Uri, do YOU get this?”
A conversation between Uri Kumlatov and Melekh Shel Zahav. I thought it to be both decent and appropriate to put it as a summary to this chapter.
There will be more quotes today. But first, the morning kerfuffle.
What a soap opera! Whoever wrote this script... But heck, who am I to judge? I just needed a job. If James croaks, I lose this job.
But it is not death that scares the man crying on our bed now. It is the fear that if they do find something, he would not be able to smoke anymore, and life asleep on Level 1 is not worth living to him.
He is supposed to be in class, but instead he is here. Should have seen the next one coming, for Christopher was not going to take James’s antiques lying down.
There is a sigh behind me.
I did not hear Christopher enter the bedroom. I was too involved watching James cry his eyes out repeating “I only have a year left to live.”
“James, I started Kumlatov’s recording of your chemistry lesson today.”
Nice try, Captain Christopher, you good sir.
James is laying on the bed face down, with his forehead on his hands. He’s been freaking out and drowning in fear since he woke up this morning.
His coughs and moans woke up Lord Carlton, who is sitting on the bed in his dressing gown. It may seem that the fragrant Daffodil Of Hammersmith is staring into nothingness right above James’s motionless body. But in fact he is looking for an opportunity to kiss James in the lips.
Like a cat ready to pounce.
I know what Carlton is thinking.
He wishes it was not happening.
He also wishes that him and James live to see good old ripe age.
He desperately wishes James was not sick.
He cannot see his future without James.
But most of all he wants to kiss James in the lips.
“I started the lesson ten minutes ago!” Christopher raises his brows. “I thought the notions of “self-discipline” and “mutual respect” actually meant something here.”
I feel for Captain Christopher. But good luck with awakening James’s consciousness today.
Frankly, I believe he strangled his consciousness while she was asleep probably way back in the 70s.
The man has no consciousness, yeah.
“James is dying today.” Carlton says slowly and thoughtfully, as if tasting a peach, and describing its taste. Especially the word “James”. He says the name and inhales it’s heavy aroma at the same time.
James is dying every day.
Christopher’s face expresses what I’m thinking.
James sobs.
And no one moves.
“All right, that does it.” Christopher stretches his right hand in a remarkable turn of events, and produces quite a stable copy of bridgeplate altar.
He, then, proceeds to pull the middle white triangle out just above the image. This, I believe is a recording transmitter. Did he learn all this while we were fighting?
Evidently, I’m the only one impressed with Christopher’s ever-growing set of skills in Andromedan communications.
James moved just a tad, and Carlton saw that as his golden opportunity to push his curly head in the opening with a purpose to kiss James in the lips.
But James is wise to Carlton’s easily recognizable omega-comforting moves, and he sinks his head back into his hands. Carlton will have to do with a kiss on the unshaven cheek. Until the next opportunity comes along. Oh, both are lost to the world...
“For the record:” Christopher’s honest, confident face shows a sign of annoyance. “Someone please authorize an x-ray of James Kellspell’s lungs so he would either be given proper treatment, or prevented from skipping school by making up medical emergencies!”
After that Christopher walked to the bed in a self-assured, firm gait, ordered James to get up, and escorted him to his chemistry class. The topic today was “Van der Waal’s force”. More molecular physics than chemistry, if you ask me. But you do not argue with Uri Kumlatov.
I, on the other hand, went through some very recent records. To refresh my memory and keep tabs on the guys, you know.
We only inhabit this moment once, right? Twice, if we make a record of it.
Thrice, if we revisit that record.
Way to run in circles.
Here are some juicy pieces.
“You think me an idiot, James?!”
“Only time will show, my Lord.”
Cross yourself twice and don’t dare laugh.
“I love watching you bend your neck to kiss me, because you are taller than me. It makes for such a sincere, and a graceful surrender.”
Yeah, this one by James made me cry right on the spot. Had to write that down.
“The Daffodil Of Hammersmith”? Is that what you call me behind my back? You consider me to be narcissistic, AND you think I’m too stupid to understand the reference?”
“You are so beautiful that it does not matter, my Lord!”
Yes, James calls him that, and “Angorran Aristocat”. And other funny names, while Lord Carlton is terrified that James would find him unattractive.
When James is at class, Lord Carlton can spend an hour in front of the mirror, trying different shirts, and slacks, and posh dinner jackets, asking my opinion on every single one of the luxurious garments.
In my opinion, the lucky s.o.b. would look stunning in a burlap sack.
Also, in my opinion, James would not know a dinner jacket if it hit him in the face.
Then, there is Carlton’s love for expensive perfumes.
That is also wasted on James. He has very little sense of entitlement, and even less sense of smell.
Once, on a bet, he picked up a dead skunk on the side of the road, threw it in the trunk of his old Toyota, and took it for a ten mile ride to a dumpster with no second thoughts.
No one could drive that car but him for the next two weeks until the skunk smell eventually aired itself out.
The idea of a perfume for James is acquiring anything that smells strong at a Family Dollar store.
Opposites either attract, or are paired on purpose by God.
“What is my fear, Samuel? Isn’t it obvious? I lost my youthful luster! It is only a matter of time before James finds me to be meretricious! What am I to do then? I have no defense!”
Another good quote showing Lord Carlton being a nervous wreck over his relationship with his partner. Well, I kept laughing that one off until the brouhaha with the letters.
So much tenderness between them, though. It’s not just funny and appalling quotes that I indulge in writing down after my employer and Lord Carlton.
Carlton always looks for James’s vulnerable moments to seek his lips in desperate jumps and starts, as if literally stealing a kiss and getting away with it.
You see that once and you believe in love all over again.
ZERO GROUND CHAPTER
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
On The Train Back To Eden
Today is St. Valentine of Kriagir Yaseremshan.
We could not have found a worse day to fight. Literally. Of the 364 OTHER days available to us...
“When you need a fix, you come to your dealer. When you need to get high on negative feelings, you come to “your” ego. Remember that, you primitive, unrefined dumbasses! God only has good news. In order to have a cry over the bad ones, we must come to the devil.”
Kumlatov walks there and back past the glass doors into the park to our left, watching us write down his every word. His steps are heavy and his face is stern.
“But this is exactly what you both did last night.” Kumlatov raises his voice. I do believe Sheiredis have no vocal chords, just like the Grehedis, but both can put up a pretty good illusion. For they can see the frequency of your thoughts.
“There is a civil war in my homeland.” Uri says, and my heart falls, for I know this tone. This tone means that he is upset, and therefore allows himself to go AWOL off topic. “There is a bloody civil war in my world, and I got an emergency message from Karain Utolika Peregrin Himself to come here and read a lecture on decency, because you lot had a debacle!”
Kumlatov steps heavily towards James and Carlton’s desk. “You realize I burned a monoclinic signature the size of The Grand Canyon to get here in less than 12 hours?”
James gets antsy and uncomfortable under Kumlatov’s pressure, but Lord Carlton is motionless, with his head bowed, covering his left cheek with his hand.
I sit to the right of them, closer to the door to the hall, and Christopher monitors the bridgeplate altar to the right of the writing board.
About 12 Arkchils surround us in a rather tight circle, transmitting our every word, every move into their only Universe-wide network.
I turn to count the Arkchils, and my extremities grow cold. At the very back of our class, there sits Leonard.
“We are to uphold our oaths to Karain Utolika Peregrin, the only known incarnation of Father, at ALL TIMES! Please do not get stuck in narrow-minded quarrels! Please see the bigger picture! You are the Pieces of the Puzzle we are going to need to unlock the chains of the ego for ANYONE who cares to do it!”
It is not hard to see, even from where I am, that almost the whole left side of Lord Carlton’s face is one big bruise. Just now, at Kumlatov’s approaching, he covered it with his hand.
But it was for everyone to see when he entered the classroom this morning. He, then, proceeded to sit at his desk, bow his head, cover it with his linden tree bark colored curls, and was not heard from until Kumlatov showed up to give us an emergency lecture on how to behave ourselves. Bingo.
This is Level 2, mind you. It is way more sensitive, than our regular Level 1. Here, an insult hits you like a ton of bricks. And leaves a mark.
The bruise on Carlton’s face came to be after the “overindulged fat cat” with an expletive from James was hurled at his face last night.
This is what it sounds like when the doves cry, right? Some artists are well worth to be remembered. Thank you, Prince. I need say nothing more.
Finally we are done with the lecture. Normally we’d be happy to see Uri, but we are all jacked up because of last night.
The morally bankrupt gentleman, my lover over there, spent the night drinking. However, instead of apologizing to Carlton, he ranted profusely about how each of us present here got to enjoy their talents more or less, and all he ever saw in his life was bitter indentured servitude where he’d be raped fifteen times a month, for decades, with nothing to show for it.
Regretfully, I had very little compassion for his pain.
Marinated in my own regrets for decades, I came to some unsettling conclusions. There, for example, is only this much happiness in life, and it seems to always happen to someone else.
And in the three months I spent with James so much of what he said and what I saw did not match, that today I may also have felt betrayed.
During the intermission Lord Carlton walks by me.
“I have this to say: I’m not going to let him break me. We have come this far. And I will fight for my love.”
The bruise on his face has finally started to fade (here it will hold two hours max), but it was still visible enough to illustrate the point when he said all this.
Honestly, I applaud and envy the man. He can turn any situation to his advantage. These were wise words of a well-balanced person. Definitely sounded better than ten hours worth of Kellspell’s rants. There was no glory in those.
Uri took James aside while Carlton was out.
I have to be there to make record.
“What is your problem?” Kumlatov corners James against the glass door. “You went through his personal effects, found his letters addressed to someone else, read them, and then confronted the man?!”
“I don’t know how to relate to him anymore...” James is despondent, distressed, and unrepentant. “All of his marks of a victim/oppressed are gone now. After I read those letters, they point to such a different personality! A superficial ego-centric. Was he hiding the real self from me? So, he WAS acting? And if he does not have a care in the world, then why was I assigned to HIM?!”
Then I hear. Not see, I hear the pigeons flapping their wings, striving into the open skies of freedom from a tight mental cage. Over and over and over.
Lord Carlton appears from behind me. Right as James says those hurtful, fateful words.
I can’t help but look at his face. His gaze is not sad, but focused. Maybe because he thinks that James somehow has the key to the cage with his pigeons. So, Carlton is determined to retain James even despite the man being unruly and radioactive.
“No. I want to hear none of this. What I want to hear is your oath of loyalty to Karain Utolika. Have you learned it by heart like I asked you to?”
I don’t know HOW, but Uri is going to make it all right.
James responds something within the lines of when does HE get to go to the stage, for which Kumlatov slaps him and repeats his question.
James growls in a suppressed way.
Leonard watches all that from the back desk with a stern, impenetrable expression.
We are having a domestic. Is he a part of our domestic to have a right to be here?
This is one question I’ll have to raise again.
“... yes, I have learnt it by heart... But why? Can we address the fact that Lord Carlton needs nothing from me?!” James is now shedding tears the size of hail in Minneapolis, and I still feel no pity.
I probably spent it all on myself.
There is no probably about it, but it is not the only reason.
When I was coming for the assignment, there was a 1-hexagon with the insignia of Golden Orb Army parked right outside of his “bubble”. To draw a comparison for someone who only and ever experienced Level 1, it is like picking your kid from school in a large alien spacecraft. I mean, whatzup?
I was told to keep silent about it to him. And I tried. Up to a moment when I saw the red-hot hollow “petals” of a Tribelin engine, as seen in Estelian literature I was exposed to prior to this assignment.
This is where I gasped rather loudly, and woke him up. That was three, now almost four, months ago.
Right outside. A Tribelin. It means, finally, to you, that someone very powerful took pains and hauled expensive equipment 2.8 mln light years away to power James Kellspell’s dream. Why?
Yep, coming in, gasping at stuff I saw, I woke him up, and he lifted his head, sniffing the air in their shack in Hafnia. I was there to awaken him from the dream in which he was caring for his bed-ridden teacher.
For a second I stood quietly behind James, who usually slept, covering his teacher’s withering body with his own.
James was about to stick his head back into his teacher’s thick fur, when Maestro K’s sharp senses finally detected me.
“Replacement...” He moaned in a hoarse way, and, either sick, or drunk, or both, fell back asleep almost instantly.
Oh, that nailed me to the floor!
“What replacement? Sleep tight, teacher of mine! I will not let anyone here! You can’t be replaced!”
And that’s how I met James and Maestro K, a very pleasant man, a.k.a. Hafnian Wolf, for the first time.
Then James tucked the blanket around Maestro’s wolf legs, and fell asleep with his hands outstretched on top of him protectively, to make sure no one would steal his teacher while he slept.
Ok, back to our kerfuffle. Uri Kumlatov pinned James to the sliding glass door with his stare. He is not about to answer him when requested. He will darn answer when he feels like it.
But James went berserk now, and all for naught. He needs to stop letting “his” ego go after Carlton. And right now he is saying all the wrong things, my friends.
“I got along with the Hafnian Wolf, because the old stinker was a textbook example of every handicap that could happen to a human being! He could not even talk! I took pleasure in being his guardian, his interpreter, and his barber. I tied his shoes, I washed his ass, I sniffed his feet, and I stood by him in every fight he ever had with his demons.”
“You got along with the Hafnian Wolf because you loved him, James!” I can’t be silent anymore! For the love of God, I was there!
James ignores me in his asshole way. He pauses with his eyes closed and his tight painful expression smoothes out for a few blissful seconds, which indicates that he allowed himself to roll down the memory lane. “His omega ass smelled so good.”
Ok, at least he admits it.
Uri sighs and wants to hug James, but he resists Kumlatov’s outstretched wing. “Lord Carlton is perfectly capable of doing it all by himself. What does he need with me? Please, understand that I’m used to fight for the DISADVANTAGED! If I ever achieved anything in life, it was that! I was successful in uplifting the most destitute of the society. The poorest, the dimmest and the sickest! With that in mind, what is my role exactly in the life of Lord Henry Carlton, a royalty, and creme-de-la-creme of the British society?”
Wow! James unloaded on us! Kellspell unplugged! So much for “I’ll face a firing squad for him”. On a St. Valentine’s Day, too!
I guess he cared to face a firing squad when he believed that Lord Carlton was a closeted homosexual, forced into a marriage by his all-powerful father who needed a right to brag about his PERFECT STRAIGHT son’s achievements in the high, aristocratic society.
Yes, that sounded like a painful golden cage case. A high-standing victim of circumstance, a damsel in distress of sorts, worthy of Jim’s time.
Still, like I said before, I’d take Carton’s place in that cage any day of the week. But that is not the point.
The point is that James went through Lord Carlton belongings.
He found some recent letters, read them, and became pissed that not a sign of struggle was mentioned there.
While there is no level on which this is right, or fair to Carlton in any conceivable way. What do you suggest Carlton should have done differently to avoid a row on St. Valentine’s Day?! What would I do differently?
Lock up my stuff and my lips, while I’m at it, because I do not trust the man I came to? For the man who says he loves me so much he’d “face a firing squad” for me, suddenly puts conditions on his love. Like a knife to my throat. Is that right?
See, I did not know there were conditions to the Covenant that Kellspell signed with his blood, sweat, tears, urine, and all other bodily liquids he and the Hafnian Wolf could find between them.
There are no conditions to the Covenant with God.
There should be no conditions to the Unconditional Love. Which is Magnificat, the blood of the Sheiredis.
And I know that Uri is not to be turned over like a helpless turtle. Not by a stuck up prick of Level 1, anyway.
“You must understand.” Kumlatov says these words with a passion that can restart a heart. His demeanor could be cold, but he chose “strong, but uplifting” instead. “Carlton excelled in every subject he was ever given, but humility.”
This sounds good, and explains everything. I’d calm down and take back my rebellion, if I were James.
But James is not ready to do so, for not all of his issues were addressed yet. His korneus is clicking so loud that I can hear it from across the room.
“Ahem, yeah! Have YOU read those letters? I thought my FIRST MAN had delusions de grandeur!”
“James!” Kumlatov allows himself to show impatience. “Lord Carlton needs you to follow though with the oath you gave {my recording} yesterday!”
Kellspell sighs, holding on to his throat. I know what is on his mind. It all seems lost.
Suddenly Carlton by my side makes a move.
“Will you do three more years of penance for me, James?” He says something no one expected.
Leonard lifts his brows and James stares at Carlton like the latter just fell from the sky.
“In simple English, I need you to manufacture the key that opens the “bubble” with the ingredients I have very little of.” Carlton continues rather calmly, but with urgency. “By that I mean Humility and obedience to God’s Will. It is the only key that opens the door out of Level 1. You can think me an overindulged fat aristocat, but you signed the Covenant. You knew you were signing it for me.”
“I will not live this long, my Lord.” James finally responds quietly and rubs his cheek, slapped by enraged Uri.
“Is that a “yes”?” Carlton presses on.
James nods.
“Just for the record. I will not live one day past the day when I’m diagnosed with cancer. So, if you think, that I will try and help you get the key, when I have cancer, and forbidden to smoke, and stuff, if you think I will carry on one day past this date...”
“I will not ask you of this.” Carlton clears his throat and closes his eyes for a moment to collect himself.
Leonard makes a motion at Uri, and the two step out. Leonard has a large stake in what he calls “Krista”.
I do not know what the gentleman is thinking, but there is very little “krista” in the “james” that we know.
Christopher is recording everything to the bridgeplate, while I record it to my private Arkchil channel. While over 15 Arkchils record every speck of dust that flies past our faces each to their channel in the Arkchil Network.
Over the years it was found out that publicity is the most reliable way of stopping James from getting drunk and shooting himself in the mouth.
No, honestly, is that why Carlton made him wear the character of Jim Moriarty? Carlton is terrified of James’s suicide thoughts. He ranted about it many times on many occasions.
James sobs alone for a while, until he realizes that “the adults” have left the room, and tries to sneak away through the sliding glass door.
1
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
I see images. The Gory and the Glory, the filet of today.
“Please mold me into a soldier you want me to be. For we are ALWAYS 5 minutes to Revelation!”
I see an image of James repeating this newly created oath. Over and over after the recording of Uri Kumlatov. Uri needed to be politically correct, and include something from the collapsed empire of Eridani Industries that allowed
UTOLIKA BRANCH
BROADCASTING
to exist.
I don’t know about 5 minutes to revelation, but this gentleman is for sure two clicks away from jihad.
Or, maybe he just genuinely likes Sardonyx. Which is hard to believe.
I close my eyes, but the images are still there.
James, disheveled and distraught, suggesting a divorce.
Carlton, shaking his head.
“ I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship with you.” Kellspell to Carlton from the bed with a ton of silk pillows in it. It’s hard to take him seriously surrounded by props like that.
But Lord motherloving Carlton will always make the most of a situation or an opportunity.
He had hard time hiding that he is taken aback. So much so he stumbles and nearly falls against the doorr. There he gets a hold of himself, lights a candle and re-appears at the scene slowly, holding the candle close to his face, making it stand out in a grotesque, dangerous way.
“You should have thought about it when you signed the Covenant in your own blood!” Carlton says, as his breath disturbs the dancing wisps of candle fire, deepening, and illustrating the point.
The menacing Lord Carlton makes an impression on James, but not for long. They will be at it for most of the day.
Calming down, then boiling up again. Enjoying their little domestic.
“Maybe I should leave, then!” Carlton lights a cigarette, which he never does, unless he is very upset.
“Where are you going to go, Detroit?” James throws at Carlton, only to get back something “as far as possible out of your life.”
Obviously, that’s not a destination. James’s restless, ego-plugged, sneering brain does not need to be asked twice to pick up this blunder.
And down Lord Carlton goes, beaten by Kellspell’s relentless logic.
He cries on the bed, surrounded by silk pillows and throws and comforters.
He could look like a ridiculous drama queen. Only his grief is genuine. “Fat cat” flew in his face more than once during this fight.
See, I’m paid to smile.
So I must cry the invisible tears. Like a woman under a burka.
Their fight is costing me my soul’s peace. Whistleblower, snitch, whatever. I must call Melekh.
2
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
“Yesterday’s training on opening the channel was a disaster.” I sigh and sit at one of the desks. “Granted we learned to open it in under 20 seconds, we could not maintain it to save our lives.”
Christopher prepares our room for the class. He washed the blackboard and opened up the curtains. Now he opens the door.
“Carlton had a rough night, too. He screams and cries in his sleep just like Maestro K.” I continue. I’m getting used to the fact that Captain is not always talkative. That’s fine. I’m an adult. I have patience.
Having done all preparations in the room, Christopher looks into the bridgeplate altar. He needs to bring up URI’s lecture for today.
“First, we can’t judge. Let Melekh decide our performance, not “our” ego.” Christopher finally says without raising his eyes from the bridgeplate.
Our first class today is chemistry. It is mainly for James, and no one will ever ask US as to what is the melting point of krypton gas.
But even if it is not our class, we must be together with James.
I’m afraid to jinx my good luck, but rumor is that at least the five of us here will become ONE UNIT. I will be together with James. Forever.
The five we have here now are your humble chronicler Samuel of Salem, James Kellspell formerly known as Clara (so, Maestro K. gave James this name when he entered his service in Hafnia), Lord Carlton, who joined us with Captain Christopher on the day of the new year of Kriagir Yaseremshan, and Leonard, who arrived here four years ago, and lived in those same rooms, awaiting for James, who he calls “Krista”, because it was the name he saw him under as James was awakening from his penance in Hafnia.
We (at least James) were expecting Michael, Kyle and Isaak, but the rumor is that they failed to cross the Styx.
You need to cross the River Styx to get to this compound.
How the heck did we do it, then?
“You remember anything from what Henry screamed last night?” Christopher asks, as he sets up the bridgeplate altar to play a recording of Uri Kumlatov’s chemistry lesson for James. It is the only way he can conduct lessons so far. So far. Being so far. No pun intended.
And this gets to you. That we are still 2.8 mil light years away from Father.
It is “Yes, by now, already, we are ONLY 2.8 mil yrs away from Father. Many people sacrificed everything they had for us to be brought this close.
But still not close enough. We study communication, and we wish we had faster communication.
For example, James does not get as to how the only stable isotope of Aluminium, 27 (top) Al helps transmit the message from Andromeda to Earth. Says here in Uri’s lecture, because it has a high NMR sensitivity. James needs more explanation.
But it takes a week to receive answers at 2.8 mil light years between us and Uri’s station, hidden in the layers of the Creature of the Catacombs, Nasarat territories of Silver Passion planet.
The entire Eridani Industries Broadcasting had to go off air for UTOLIKA BRANCH station to become live and transmitting to Level 1, Earth Of Milky Way.
“Yes, I remember.” So vividly I remember what happened last night in bed with James and Carlton in the light of a full moon. Not what you might think.
Sweat glistening all over his wiry, lean, muscular chest, Carlton would lift himself off the pillows with his arms outstretched, his face to the ceiling, and his eyes shut tight.
“I’m living a lie”. He’d scream many times throughout the night, fall back on the bed, and sob bitterly. Then he’d be silent for a while, and with a hoarse scream he’d continue chanting “for a brief moment I was not a spectator to my own life.” That one made me cry, you know?” I raise my eyes at Christopher, and his face has darkened.
I wait for him to elaborate, for he knew Carlton for a long time. If anyone, it would be Christopher to explain things for me.
I wait. And I wait. I want to know. If you know, would you tell me what it means?
Christopher squints his eyes this manner that lets you know that it’s better not to argue.
“The class starts in ten minutes. Would you help me with the setup?” He finally says, and indeed, it’s very hard to argue that he is not right.
3
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
“So many torn threads are about to come together in the sweetest, warmest, most passionate of reunions.
Everyone is in anticipation.”
Captain Christopher finally received access to my “Shadows and Smoke” manuscript. But he started from the back files. I wanted to use this passage as the prelude to the opening scene, but then something else had come up.
“It takes sun to turn a piece of ice into warm spring water. It takes God to turn your frozen soul into a blooming garden.”
Christopher lingers, thinks, and moves on with the manuscript of my first memoir manuscript on his altar bridgeplate.
We are alone in our indoor classroom with the view of the forest of tall pine trees.
This morning I had to use the bathroom in Christopher’s rooms, because James took over ours to soak Lord Carlton’s feet. The latter got a splinter in his left sole. Once at it, James took his sweet time to cut Carlton’s toenails and polish them.
“I will face a firing squad for him, Samuel. I don’t care what I have to do for Carlton. Anything but violate Father’s Laws, how’s that? And helping my Level 1 partner through some hard times is not a big deal!” Christopher continues to read aloud from “Shadows and Smoke”.
Although “Shadows and Smoke” is my first book about James, this monologue is very recent. I put it into the first manuscript, for this ancient issue is better understood within that context.
But I remember when James told me that. It was last week. He was despondent for having to be intimate with H.M., but added passionately that it is nothing, if this is the price he had to pay for his bride, because he’d face a firing squad for him.
Heck, scary to imagine. Do I have to face that squad for anything? Can I just die at home of old age, surrounded by family and well-wishers?
Ah, James would swing his hand in my direction, firing squad is a coward’s way out, he’d add.
How so?
“Samuel, that’s marvelous!” Christopher erases the text of “Shadows and Smoke” off the bridgeplate, and brings on my favorite so far, my second book, “The Hills Of Metal”. In it i describe all James’s fears and go into his numerous, devastating psychotic episodes based on his main fear of dying without “having accomplished anything.”
“The purpose of this life is to conquer your ego. The catch 22 is you can’t conquer your ego without God. For as long as you are with your ego. Which will never let you come to God. So, we are royally f**ked and profoundly stuck.”
Christopher reads aloud and smiles to his thoughts, and then gives me a reassuring nod.
This nod warms my beleaguered heart, because ever since I started working for James I have not had a single good night’s sleep. Overused and under appreciated, i begin to feel like Princess Diana’s butler.
Regretfully, i write this even without fear that James will request this record of UTOLIKA BRANCH WATERFALLS OF HIS MERCY BROADCASTING via Arkchil Channel.
He quit coming here, he quit reading my blog the day we were acquired by the very gentleman whose toenails are being polished in our bathroom as we speak.
“The reason animals rely on their instinct, is because they lost their faith. The gist of DeVo. This is what will happen to anyone who decides he can live without God.” Christopher seems to be into “Hills Of Metal”. He reads on, and then explodes with a passage here and there that he reads aloud, with seemingly genuine expression.
Captain Christopher arrived in Carlton’s retinue. Now I spend more time with him, than with James.
I sigh and feel the memories of the day when I wrote that essay about DeVo. The memories pound and bring me down heavily.
It was the “Lirda Kils Svangibir” of the Moon Cycle. Possibly, the hardest time of the cycle. The full moon.
James was sobbing, for he believed that he was dying without having accomplished anything in life. I did not know how to comfort him.
Then Melekh told us that this was the ego-way of looking at it. It was all incorrect polarization of the received signal.
Yet, oftentimes I felt just like James. That all the good stuff in life was given to someone else. And I knew I was wrong in my polarizing ego-glasses. But for the love of God, what was the right answer?
“And what was His answer to that?”
Carlton’s voice comes from the hall. Boy, can he echo my thoughts. I winced. Honestly. Well, I guess, we would not be here if we were not looking for answers.
“Would you like this to happen to Lord Carlton?” was His answer!” James responds in his low hoarse whisper. “So, every time I freak out that I will be dying of excruciating heart attack any moment now, I must ask myself, if I was the author of this book, would I have that happen to Lord Carlton?”
“The answer is “no”, therefore it will not happen.” I finish and receive Carlton’s surprised look. He’s only been here a month, officially. James’s hysteria is ages old. What did he do BEFORE Lord Carlton?
The reason I know the key out of the “I’m dying” noose is because I have heard it with the name of James’s teacher, Reverend Maestro K.
And, regretfully, before Maestro there was no antidote to this logical ego-choker.
4
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
And to reduce the tensions
We don’t reveal intentions!
“Samuel, can I have a word with you?” Mysterious and feverish, Lord Carlton catches me as I get ready to follow James to our class.
“Yes, my Lord?” I’m so-o flattered I was noticed, but I can’t leave James alone for any period of time. I’d have to request to retrieve the footage of him of those minutes I missed. And Arkchil Network does not necessarily open up right away. Even to me, James Kellspell’s personal chronicler.
“I think James got to the bottom of me, and he is about to think me to be meretricious, Samuel.” Carlton comes very close to me, and I inhale his aftershave. Now, this one is much better.
I think about how to answer that. A few possible ways float in my head in no particular order.
Carlton towers over me, waiting for an answer.
Fine. Let’s put things into order.
A) No, James would not think this way. He is basically a peregrine savage who does not know such words. His homies spent centuries perfecting their genocide against my homies, and in this day and age I was worried going in for this assignment, because I am Jewish.
B) Very funny, Lord Carlton. First you launch an excellent campaign to crucify James on the sticky cobweb of your feelings, succeed beyond all expectations, and then you doubt yourself and seek for a way to surrender to the very fly you just humiliated badly. Funny, but consistent with omega behaviour.
C) Ok, I’m done being an ass about this. We all have our demons, and mine could not be shrugged off by the Atlas. What can I do for you?
Choose “C”. Smile.
“You have lovely eyes, Samuel.” Carlton stands by me and sighs.
That would be ten minutes of James’s life, his thoughts, his fears and his doubts that I’d have to request from Upstairs. Can’t miss a thing.
“You are awkward around gay men, Lord Carlton.” I’m torn between adding something insulting and letting him go unscathed.
It is DC-HG club after all. Deeply Closeted.
“How can I help you?” I repeat.
Carlton recovers quickly.
“Can you rewind me everything I said yesterday? I might have made a few mistakes that led James to believe me an imbecile, Samuel.”
“I could, Lord Carlton, but will you stop torturing yourself? James is chained to you tight enough to put Harry Houdini to shame. Lessee... We have Covenant, and then we have Magnificat, and then we have Fall Memorandum. Clearly, we have more on him than Nuremberg on the Nazis.”
James is not going anywhere from under the pile of THOSE three Torahs!
I smile, for I need him chained. We all need him chained to someone as marvelous as Lord Carlton. Too large to try and shake off, bit also too dazzling to even want to.
However, fifteen minutes now to request the backtape for.
How do I say politely that I must go?
“That’s what scares me, Samuel!” Carlton looks down long enough for me to start feeling sorry for his miserable royal frame. “How do I know that his feelings for me are genuine, when he is in chains?”
We do not want him unchained. Or unplugged. Or unhinged. I’d love to elaborate, but l’m one of his “hinges”. And it’s been 20 minutes, during which, I pray, James did not pour a whole bucket of self-pity on himself, and, poisoned by it, threaten suicide.
I mean, I have zero nice things to say about this. But I must. James’s feelings for Carlton are genuine. And James will prove it. Carlton just needs to be patient and not freak out.
“You are in chains, too.” I resist the temptation to run out of the room to get to James.
But his royal, um, excellency is not done. I see it in his face. He’s got so much more to say to James, but he fears to be misunderstood. Or even be accused of impropriety.
James spent his turbulent youth stealing vegetables from government trucks to make it through another famine. And then fucking complete strangers in a dark park for pure fun and midnight adrenaline.
That, and so much more I’m not yet allowed to reveal. Bottom line is that Kellspell would not know “impropriety” if it hit him in the face.
“Listen, after this class we bring James in, sit you both down facing towards each other, do “I don’t deserve you” forehead to forehead, and it will all be kosher!” I nod reassuringly, while inching my way towards the door.
“What about all my lines from yesterday?” Can I also see if all my clothing was in order?” Carlton is the thistle when he wants to be. And he can be silk for the same reason. All that, while being awkward around gay men. He is that closeted.
“My advice: don’t waste your time on archives. Melekh will give us all the necessary intel fresh every day.”
“Thank you!” Carlton strides out of the room, but lingers on the threshold. “This is a platitude, if I know one, but somehow I feel closer to my goal.”
“Happy to be of service, my Lord!” I bow.
What? I like the idea of royalty. So does James.
“Henry. Please.” Carlton got a hold of himself, and is now much more confident. “What about the Prince’s escape from the Buckingham Palace?”
“Don’t get any ideas! You are doing fine! James loves you for your slavish obedience to your king. This makes you a martyr in James’s eyes. You have a lot to gain by sticking around in the palace.”
“Really?” Decades of resentment to his situation wash away from Carlton’s face, revealing the rocky bottom of his tormented soul. And it’s not just rocks, that surface. The bottom of his soul is covered in large blue pearls of omega tears. Tears he shed at night for a partner like James.
I recognize these tears. Every single one of them.
No wonder James lost his mind the first time he witnessed Carlton in low tide.
Carlton’s performance is paper-thin, but people are blind. So he is safe in his closet, literally right on the highest of stages. His captivity is for everyone to see. And miss.
“Really, Lord Carlton. James does not care what you said, say or plan to say, if anything. His teacher once said nothing for nine months straight.”
“Oh...” Carlton acts like he was punched in the gut, but with a happy ending.
“Neither does this unwashed savage care as to what you wear, if anything. I’m sure he’d prefer the latter if you both could get away with it. So, relax. Now I must attend to James in his chemistry class.”
Thoughts on a short way down the hall and into our indoor classroom that has a large window with a view of the park.
“Prisoner 76”. I mean, are you kidding me?
Poor guy. I thought Maestro K screamed loudly.
Carlton screams, and James is the only one in the whole building who can hear him. That’s why Kellspell woke up in his cell, and wandered down the hall to another cell, door half-ajar.
Someone there stood up for the rights of homosexuals.
And kept on screaming about them homosexuals.
That’s what James told me. The hour was Dorilin Tisaver.
That’s how he found the poor bleeding Lord Carlton. He kept on walking down the hall until he located the cell from which the screams were coming.
Then they held hands and had a Moonlight Wedding. Lord Carlton and my James. They were wed by Melekh himself in the inner yard of the dull gray building on Level 2, where all souls leave their bodies to go into a torturous slumber of a life on Level 1.
Is that what really happened? Or, is this what James wants me to believe?
James, then, met Melekh in the hour of Dorilin Datarmira. He surrendered his soul to Melekh for Lord Carlton. Then James spent the whole hour with Melekh. Besides other things that they discussed, Melekh helped James calculate his karma (price he had to pay for himself), and the price he had to pay for his precious bride.
It came up to be a hefty chunk, and Melekh was going to pay it all for him. However, James really wanted to help. He wanted to FEEL it in his bones and in his heart that he wanted Lord Carlton. And he was ready to pay to have him.
That desire resulted in James taking three years of penance, most of which was the price for Carlton.
I was the messenger of the good news that three hours later James has completed the required of him, and had successfully passed all tests.
He could have the honeymoon with his bride now.
The “honeymoon” is taking place here, Level 2, a compound at undisclosed location, where we are being trained by some cool folks from Andromeda on communications. Time as an isotropic surface. Yeah!
Plus, James swore on his teacher (Maestro K, ahem!) that he was going to learn the entire chemistry textbook in two months to impress Lord Carlton. AND recite all elements in the periodic table. Granted, he could probably do the last one before.
We’re in for a good, love-driven show, and I don’t regret a thing.
5
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Once More About Winters On Mesmerix
Morning. Good morning to everyone. I mean, stuff I woke up to. Yeah...
The last day of fall, we can say, winter is here. And, just like on Mesmerix, our winter lasts only seven days. But each day can last as much as ten years worth of torment only the mind of Maestro K could conjure up.
We have not even started upon that delightful path yet, and James already talks about committing suicide in one out of four letters a year that he is allowed to write to the outside world.
He chooses to use the privilege mostly on his ex. So, yesterday Melekh let him write his first of four letters to Merion.
Lord Carlton did not even wait until James was done writing to read it. He stood there with a hawkish look on his stern face, and read every word that came through James’s keyboard via Christopher, who was translating from Russian through a level equalizer he found access to on the bridgeplate.
Christopher! Our Hermione. He figured it all out mostly by himself, because Dumbledore... I mean, Uri, has dismally little time to explain the Andromedan technologies to us.
Then, as soon as James in his letter started again with his plan to kill himself the day his mother dies, Carlton lost it. But was too smart and well-behaved to confront James directly, and at that time.
I learned much later that desperate and enraged Carlton went to Melekh that day.
The thing is - Carlton’s anger is paper-thin. As an omega, he can’t maintain any such destructive emotions for any considerable period of time. However, as an intelligent man, he can always make the most of what he gets.
I only found out today about what is it that Melekh told Carlton. Or, rather, gave him. An incredibly simple, and a smart strategy to control a very important person in his life.
Like I said, basically, let his low position in the pack deceive you not. There is hell to pay if you cross Lord Carlton.
Having said that, Melekh gives you nothing that could be used as a revenge. Only and ever for the betterment.
As for the control part, James has surrendered. We all have surrendered. That’s why we all are here.
But what is it?
After Carlton came back from Melekh, he found James and me drinking here in this bedroom.
Seeing that, the experienced cold-blooded hunter that he was, Carlton waited out the night. Then he dropped an envelope on the dresser with Kellspell’s name on it.
Come morning, as a prelude to a whipping he was planning, Carlton took James out for a walk “to discuss our project.”
Our project? I laughed even through my sleep. What’s there to discuss? When it comes to “our project”, Hermione, I mean, Captain Christopher, is doing all the studying. And all the lab work, too. He, then, supplies us with answers like a vending machine that is not even asking for a coin back.
I should have woken up in shame.
They should have woken up in shame.
But instead Carlton woke up pissed.
James woke up hung over.
And I woke up and found the envelope.
Shame or horror? Well, it was not my choice to make. But next time remind me to choose the shame instead. Definitely the shame. Much easier to bear than what I found in the envelope.
Point is, I do not need to breach privacy to read notes, addressed to James. As his Melekh-appointed chronicler, I have access to his channel on Arkchil Network. That’s how I found out what was in the envelope.
It was a darn rude awakening on the edge of emotional mine field of broken glass and sandpaper that we will be crawling through in the next seven days.
Oh, here come the guys. They slide the glass door and James enters first with a whiff of fresh forest air.
“Please believe me, that the ways to ensure the success of this project is what keeps me up at night!” James nods vigorously as Carlton fixes him with an intimidating stare.
James sighs, gets on his knees by Carlton’s side of the bed, and sniffs the sheets where Carlton slept. Mainly the depressed and crumpled up spot where his butt was.
Please believe me, that it is not ensuring the success of the project that keeps Kellspell up at night.
Lord Carlton’s incredibly sweet omega smell keeps him up at night.
I know, I’m right there. I sleep in the same bed with them!
“You are full of it, and you are lying to me!” Carlton goes for the throat as he pulls a purple stone on a chain out of his pocket. The stone is rather big, transparent, and resembles a button to push.
Wait a minute... Is it me, or this pendant has Melekh’s name written all over it?
“How so, my resplendent Lord?” James mumbles feebly, inhaling so close to the sheet that the fabric goes up his nose. Now he looks like a disheveled, deranged vacuum, stuck on “on” position just on one place.
I’d tell James to grow a pair, but I actually like Carlton lording over him. Ahem, no pun intended :). James had it long time coming. And not from me. I was not strong enough.
Every time I’d start lecturing him, he’d just turn me over like a puppy that I was, and give me some very pleasant what-for. He knew that nailing me would make me lose desire to nail him.
And although Lord Carlton, as an omega, finds himself at James’s feet way more often than the other way around, a very organized man, he makes sure that every time counts.
“You threatened to kill yourself yesterday. Again.” Carlton makes a fast step towards James with a dangerous face. Yeah! That was powerful enough to make ME take a step back. And I’m recording all the way back from across the room, and our large bed.
James is repentant enough to sigh loudly and bury his whole face in the burgundy-colored bedsheet. This color really makes all the cum stains stand out.
I can’t be grossed out too much. Half of them are mine, thank you very much.
Lord Carlton is not impressed.
Truth be told, James never “threatens” suicide. He just expresses a desire to end it all, for the Path is too long, and the pain is too unbearable. This is what a Spartan soldier would say. Right? And James was always dying to be one.
So, we already have some leverage here. To shame him back to his feet. But yesterday after reading James’s letter to his ex, Carlton, obviously, decided that shame per se is simply not enough leverage anymore.
“We already had that conversation, James, and you know how I feel about you being suicidal more than a couple times a month.. “Suicide” is what happens to your family, remember? Not to you, but to your family. Granted, you insulated yourself from your blood family enough, and you lied to them about your medical condition. But you can’t pull wool over my eyes!”
James gets up, but only to lower himself by Carlton’s feet.
“And you looked at me then the same as now! Like I’m speaking Merverit here, James!”
To his honor, Kellspell quickly changes his “who, me?” face to a more appropriate that of contrition.
“I know. I was bad. I’m ready to take your punishment.”
It’s very still outside. The early winter morning is cold and quiet.
So quiet that if the guys were not talking, and if James was not coughing hoarsely throughout the entire scene, I could probably hear Leonard rearranging his lawn furniture in front of his rooms not even four hundred yards to the left of our quarters.
When we came here, we were waiting for Kyle, Isaak and Lars.
But Leonard was waiting for us.
There is no way to know what happens next so close to Melekh’s Realm. But one thing is certain. It is only and ever good news. For we are getting ever closer to the Awakening.
To actually waking up from our “persistent illusion”, as per Albert our good friend Einstein.
See what Lord Carlton has to say about being lost in an illusion.
“Oh, we are past that, James.” Carlton smiles in a predatory way and stretches out his hand with the purple pendant, it’s faded, formerly gold-plated chain entangled between his long fingers.
Atta my man. So far he has been bringing James down with a spider’s meticulous precision.
He got help from the right sources, he made a choice to bide his time, and now he is well-prepared to tackle someone as large as James. “What good would the punishment do if you followed through with hanging yourself?”
Oh, my very logical Lord Carlton. Now that you brought down your prey, what is your solution?
“Last night, after I intercepted your letter to your ex, where you clearly stated your plan to kill yourself the day your mother dies, I talked to Melekh.” Carlton’s face is frozen in a firm, no-bull mask. “And He gave me this.” Carlton lets the purple stone hang from its chain just above James’s eyes.
THIS is what Melekh gave Carlton. Aha. No more doubts.
We are dying to know more. No pun intended. And you can’t joke when Melekh Himself is helping. But what is it?
James moves a tad to focus on the purple stone.
“Have you watched the movie called “Avatar”?”
Both James and I nod. And while i’m a recording and witnessing force for the guys, at least five Arkchils have their eyes on me at any given time. It’s worth to stay animated.
“Well, this is the button to drop your avatar on Level 1, James. I simply can’t jeopardize my investment like this anymore.” Carlton throws the pendant into the air, and as it falls, it burns dark purple in the winter sun that filters through the tops of evergreens surrounding our compound.
He, then, catches the purple stone and eases it back into the pocket of his plush dressing gown.
“Done deal, James. Next time you as much as twitch, and look at the rope, I will drop you.”
Oh, that was elegant. And effective. Viva Melekh. And viva to the trust these two fine gentlemen have for each other.
One of them has to, basically, use an electrical collar to prevent the other from jumping the fence.
Come to think of it, I like the solution. We are going to need it, too. Carlton is going to make James cry today.
Because...
There is an envelope on the dresser. It is for James Kellspell from Henry Carlton.
There is a piece of paper inside with only one word on it. If you saw it, you might think it is a password to the wi-fi of the building, left for the guests, or something. A weird password, but then, what else could it be?
But I know better. My heart skipped a beat when I read that “password”.
Kellspell has not seen anything yet. There is a reason why smart man Carlton obtained an insurance against James’s suicide from Melekh Himself.
Unshaken by the presentation of “the button”, James now got up and is making the bed. The cool rays of sun caress his disheveled hair and the soft skin of his cheeks. I want to kiss those cheeks. All day. All of this long winter’s day.
It is actually late fall now. But autumn lasts about four days here, anyway. Then we will have about seven days of winter, Mesmerix style.
The “Mesmerix winter” chills the heck out of your soul. I suggest each of us get the purple avatar-dropping button for the others. Just as a roundabout kind of insurance. Because, in winter, it’s not just James. It’s many more of us.
“You haven’t opened it yet?!” Carlton takes the envelope off the dresser and flings it in James’s face. “Since when do you ignore my letters?”
He misses his chin by half an inch, and the envelope falls on the comforter right in front of James.
Ahem, since wee hours of this morning Lord Carlton made sure James did not have a minute to himself. In a tyrannical way Carlton even escorted him to the bathroom. Possibly because he was preparing this very cruel rebuke.
James does not react to the abuse. He is too obsessed with Carlton. He does not care that Carlton threw stuff at him, nearly grazing his face.
All he cares about is that he is Carlton’s “investment” now. That he now belongs to the man he did three years of penance to get.
James opens the envelope slowly. He is very intuitive, and the envelope is mighty, you see. It reeks of heavy emotions James, the karmic hound, can smell ten miles away.
His favorite, the undeniable smell of old, hidden mental torment.
If you were one of those tortured souls, and you just got a table near him at a restaurant, he’d know.
If you were one of those who contemplated suicide at least once in your life - he’d know it.
And if you stood by him on a subway, chances are, you could smell it on him, like the dog that rolled itself in sheep shit. But now, see, this is where the comparison ends.
For where dogs exchange urine to relay intel, DC-HG club members leave each other one-word notes that can probably knock out any dog, if it could read. Or smell suffering.
James reads the note. I swear, it takes him the proverbial five minutes and seventy seconds to read one word.
That one word. The word that explains everything.
He, then, drops the paper and sobs.
I said Carlton was going to make James cry? And he was going to make him cry in style. In such an artful, unpredictable way.
And, ohh, now Carlton stands over his victim with a ruthless face and narrowed eyes.
The sun hides in the clouds, and I wonder if we are going to make it to the end of this winter. I wonder that every winter. Three months, three winters with James. First winter with James AND Lord Carlton.
Yes, Golden Waterfalls Of His Mercy, we are about to enter the seven days of very tough emotional battering.
That is a winter of Mesmerix. There it would have something to do with large masses of tetrahydrofuran gas on an information-compressing cycle.
What is it? Why are these winters so cruel?
I kneel by James and pick up the note.
“What are we going to do about this?” I ask him as Carlton is changing to go to class.
“Ohhh...” James gives me a tormented look of blood-shot eyes, plus red and puffy with so much crying. “He’s got the button, Samuel!”
What am I seeing? A timid smile breaks Kellspell’s chafed lips.
“He’s got it. I no longer need to be afraid to die of a medical condition!”
6
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
He’s free from sea to shining sea
In chains that nobody can see...
“I would also like to address our dismal, and I mean it, dismal channel-opening results.” Captain Christopher stands by the blackboard (ours is actually white. Or was I on psychotropic substances for too long? Uri Kumlatov’s breath being one?) with his hands behind his back.
The bridgeplate altar is to his right, and right now it produces forty hexagons a minute full of information. We are not there yet to monitor that stream.
“During training yesterday, our time to open the channel with Karain Utolika the Founder was 5 minutes and 70 seconds. Shameful, my friends. James, you need to focus more closely on opening the first triangle.”
“Right! When I’m done remembering how to use my fingers, and done fighting through the fog of other images! I have to cross the river damned Styx in order to even access the wall where the channel is!” James shakes his head trying to get a hold of himself. “Ok, why else our time is so dismal? What else am I doing wrong?”
Christopher leaves no time for messing around, and pinpoints the problem. “You seem to be wobbling between the old and the newly installed ways of opening the channel. The new way is via your new stabilizer, but you are used to dual the triangle with your korneus.”
“Yes, and now I have to use my fingers, and it does not feel the same, to put it mildly. Plus, no legible signs come out of the stabilizer. Only inverted “T”’s made of 6 dots each.”
Is that what he is seeing when he dials to open the channel? Remarkable. I wonder what it means? Inverted T’s made of small dots?
“I understand, James.” Christopher is calm like a dead lion. I think it is Leonard’s influence rubbing off on him. Or maybe he’s been this way all along. “You don’t have to dial it with your fingers. This is where you keep snagging and literally freezing for over 5 minutes. Trying to remember how to use your fingers, I see now.”
Christopher clears his throat and glances at James, who is visibly upset. “Come on, man. Dialing three symbols in your stabilizer should not take five minutes and seventy seconds. Just use your korneus instead of your fingers for a smooth entry.”
“5 minutes and 70 seconds?” Lord Carlton is lively and perky today. He is actually paying attention to what is going on in class.
Part of our poor timing on opening the channel is Lord Carlton himself as a lawful king and the apex of all distractions in the world. But who is going to tell him that?!
I caught James more than once staring at Carlton instead of dialing the code. It’s not like he was looking for his digits. He was absorbed in scanning every inch of Carlton’s face with his mouth half open.
And Carlton just stood there and stared right back at Kellspell. This is what took five minutes and seventy seconds.
But I hate the bloke less and less. The man drinks and smokes heavily every night. James goes down with him. They drink in the park at night, right in front of the classroom windows.
Then they howl like wolves. In between classes each has to go back to Level 1 to a spouse. Sometimes one howls a tad louder than the other.
Sometimes Leonard howls louder than both, but at different times of night. And in front of the windows of his own rooms. He does not come here normally.
God only knows what he is howling about. He does not have to go back to Level One to a spouse he does not like.
While these drink and howl, Christopher and I stay behind to maintain connection with Melekh and Karain Utolika, now through our new stabilizers. Someone has to.
I can open the channel with Melekh in three seconds without a stabilizer.
But I can’t hold it as long as James.
It still helps me for my personal needs of breathing the right information, undistorted, directly from the Source.
7
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
It’s lunchtime and I got my schnitzel. The next day, but I got it.
“How wealthy?” Carlton presses me as he eats a salad. Lettuce with almonds, and some finely diced apples.
What a miserable man! No, wait, I’m miserable. I can’t accept him for what he is and I must look for ways to mock him all day long. What does that say about me?
“Very wealthy. Wealthier than your whole royal family!” I say hoarsely under my breath for dramatic effect.
“You don’t even know my family!” Carlton chews his lettuce and is not inclined to take any bull from me today.
“You might not understand English very well, Lord Carlton...” I begin and watch his brows climb all the way into his forehead with indignation.
“... but you understand British. So, here it is. The description of Leonard’s wealth in British for you: He is Cat Stevens CLEAN KARMA wealthy.”
Carlton opens up his mouth, but James rushes in, falls to the floor and howls something ineligible about peace.
Christopher, who was silently by Carlton’s side whole time, comes to James’s aid and sits him at the table with us.
“A war starts when you have something to defend!” James exhales in exhaustion.
Oh, I get it. He just flew in from Level 1, and he had a row with H.M.
“But if we ever learned anything in Melekh’s Communication School, there should be nothing to defend in love!” James continues hysterically.
He cries, bumping his head on the wooden table where we have lunch, right outside the indoor classroom.
“What happened? You flew in through the wall.” He points to the space that goes in waves, like water, through which I can see the sunlit park outside. “Right through the wall. Without dialing the code. Have you forgotten the code?” Christopher wraps his hands over James’s forehead, not letting him hurt himself.
Restrained by Christopher, James whimpers and resists meekly. Then he sits still as Carlton and I finish our lunch.
“Friends, I violated the main condition of love...” James finally says. “I argued with the one I love... I gave in to the ego-voice, started fighting with him over the fridge food, can you imagine? I yelled at H.M.!!!”
I sigh as Christopher looks at his ghostly bridgeplate altar that he can bring up by his side through the sheer power of his mind. “We have fifteen minutes before the beginning of Kumlatov’s lecture to discuss this. Being late to the lecture is not an option.”
8
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
“And when we usurped God’s power, we forgot to take His Mercy, and His Grace.
Such is the unenviable fate of a recalcitrant, forgetful, and nearsighted child that we all are. Think about that. We will be studying this premise closer when Uri will come to teach us how to use these new stabilizers. With that, gentlemen, I yield back.”
That was another amazing morning speech of encouragement, Captain Christopher. Tough stuff that nobody listened.
“My divine Lord Carlton... I will kiss every toe on your resplendent feet...”
A sitcom of the century. James acts like a six year old who just got a new Barbie for her birthday.
And I’m her... his old Barbie. Ken. I’m his Ken. But I’m twinky and Jewish, unlike, ahem, his new Ken with an athletic physique to die for and a sappy story about how his dreams did not come true... He has the balls, you see, the balls of a brass monkey, to say that.
“Samuel, why are you smiling?” Christopher leaves the bridgeplate altar, and approaches me in a careless, confident stride of someone who did his job, and did it well.
Like he did not notice that the guys were making out throughout his whole service and my blank stare rivaled that of a full moon.
“I’m paid to smile, Captain. When I was offered this job, James specifically added that into my list of responsibilities.”
“Because by the time he is done drinking his teacher’s bucket of pain, and then yours, and then Henry did not spare him, and poured his bucket over James’s head the first day he saw him...”
I meet Christopher’s eyes and I know he is here to help. He is not here just for himself. His arduous studies are for us all.
“If you were not guarding the know-how of a smile, everyone here would forget how to do it, right?” Christopher glances at James on his knees in front of Carlton, and then fixes me with a look of a righteous man. And I’m letting him get away with it. For he is so natural, calm and confident about it.
I nod. There is certain power to Christopher. But his power is quiet and peaceful. Maybe he was the one who did not forget to take the Mercy and the Grace when he took his power from God.
“Then why did you ask?” I sigh and just want to go for lunch, for some schnitzel. Vegan Lord Carlton. Give me a brake!
“I meant, why were you smiling when you thought about Henry’s balls of a brass monkey?”
I don’t know if I should laugh, or cry.
“How did you know, Hermione?”
“I was giving a morning speech by the bridgeplate altar. It picks every frequency and relays it into your mind.”
Oh, yeah.
“Hermione” studied to work with the bridgeplate, too. While we were slacking about. That’s why he could hear my mind. He studied. He came to this school to study, and that is what he is doing.
“I smiled because it was funny. But I was also bitter.” I sigh and we both fall silent.
Until Lord Carlton arrived, James would spend all his time with me, and he used to tell me all about his life. Well, up to his surrender to Melekh. The year of Dorilin Datarmira.
Truth be told, this twinky prick was just as ungrateful about the gifts he had, as Carlton. I think they are both asses for being this way.
I was not as talented as Carlton, and not nearly as smart as James. Ok, just as whiny. Is Christopher near the bridgeplate? He left the room. Good. I can think freely. Weave a sticky, dirty spiderweb of my thoughts and not have to look over my shoulder. Yes, I am embarrassed about my own ungrateful behaviour.
But I was not as suicidal as James.
Oh, what the heck. I don’t have time to write down everything that happens here. Yesterday the elderly stranger Leonard showed up and wanted to take “Krista” for a date.
Upon hearing what Leonard meant by “Krista”, Carlton got all bent out of shape and told the man off.
That did not stop the man, who produced a paper, signed by none other, but James’s illustrious father, that he is considered to be “beneficial for my daughter to hang out with.” A permission, dating the way back to spring of 1979.
Carlton had no choice but to let James go, but he also had the balls of a brass monkey to bargain.
“If I let him go with you, what can you give me?” Carlton was sharp as a knife, and fast as a whip.
But the elderly gentleman was as calm as a dead lion. He looked at towering Carlton with a serene smile. “I can give Krista the life at least as long as mine.”
“How long was yours?” Carlton snapped, enraged that he was losing James. Not to Michael, not to Kyle, and not even to Isaak. But to an unannounced stranger.
“Look it up.” Leonard lifted his hat with a polite smile, and took James’s hand. His hand turned thin, pale and female-looking where Leonard was holding it.
I thought Carlton was going to throw up.
“I have to honor the note, my love.” James’s low hoarse voice broke into a higher note as Leonard kissed his hand, that was already an arm of a female. “But when I come back... ablaze for your love, I will lick you all over. I will give you the euphoria you have not experienced on this Earth!”
“Krista, come on.” For a second Leonard had a look of revulsion on his face as he glanced at Carlton, but he got a hold of himself remarkably quickly.
“I’ll be back in one hour, my most dazzling Lord!” No longer able to speak in a male voice, James turned and left with Leonard.
James’s shoulder-long black hair turned blonde as Leonard helped Krista into a limousine right outside the school.
Carlton crashed on a chair like a pushed-over pile of wood. Christopher was by his side with a glass of something strong.
And I realized that I, myself, was not repulsed after I saw our James turn into a woman. He said he could handle it. Well, kudos to him.
James told me Leonard was extremely wealthy in terms of high quality karma. Meaning: your detachment from “your” ego.
9 (11)
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
School Started Suddenly
“And may the drink of fear offered by “our” dumb ego will never burn our lips!
May the poisons of resentment and comparison never burn our hearts.
But how can we resist gulping a goblet of fear, offered to us by “our” ego so very subserviently? Some reasons are irresistible. We do it most often when facing our own mortality.”
Christopher is looking at James, who looks at Melekh for support.
“Yet, clearly, you cant’t turn down these drinks without replacing them. It is like trying to force out darkness with your hands. In order to force out the darkness, you bring in a candle. You bring in the Light. You REPLACE the bad with the good.”
Christopher is packing heat, and in our loose state on Level 2 we can actually try and follow through with his advice. Here his advice does not sound nearly as hollow as back on good ol’ Level 1 of consciousness.
“However, what can possibly be stronger than all these eternal excruciatingly unpleasant poisons?
And here is the logical answer. Please pay attention following through with this.
You can’t escape “your demons” yourself. Not because you are not strong enough, but because you were never meant to.
A hand was never meant to lift rocks just by itself. It is ridiculous to think of. A hand is attached to a body, and it can only perform tasks while being a part of it.
We are a part of God. We are His Most Beloved Hand. We must remember, that “our” ego is the only thing that stands between us and Sweet Reunification with Father!”
His lips are for drinking honey, or some Russian proverb like that. Meaning, Christopher speaks sweetly.
I’ve been sleeping with a Russian hunk for three months now. So proud.
And then who knows why. My mother might not be proud. His people killed and exiled my people.
Oh, not thinking about that. Loving him for the repented soul that he became.
“ “Your” ego says, that you must face your trials alone. It is because this idiotic machine was programmed by a 5 year old.” Christopher presses on, and I better not stray away. We have a hard day ahead of us.
“The 5 year old Child Of God... An angry, errant, and a recalcitrant child on that particular day. A child that rejected his Father.
THIS is the root of all our pain. What do we do now? The only logical thing. We come back to God.
How?
By drinking a Goblet Of Humility, humility and obedience to His Will. At the very least the thought of being taken care of tastes much sweeter than a thought if facing trials completely on your own.
Do that today, accept His Sovereign Will, which is always Loving and Tender, as opposed to our current “master”. An angry, nearsighted ego, that is only happy to hurt us by looking for a reason to get us to drink fear and resentment.
The choice is obvious, and, as always, this choice is yours. Let’s get on with our day! Melekh wants us to do a whole bunch of studying and analysis before Commander Kumlatov shows up. We are not to let either one of them down. Thank you, gentlemen. We have half an hour left before the First Service, let’s spend this time wisely.”
Christopher sure gives great morning speeches. But my James here coughs hoarsely, and thinks he is dying. And he is pretty scared for a guy who had three suicide attempts before the age of 12. Suicide has been his sweetest thing besides his diaries.
Many times he said that he pitched his desire to die against his fear of death, locked them in a logical loop and let them monsters fight it out.
And after all that he wheezes, and coughs, and burns himself by talking about how much more he was planning to do, but he is going to die in a year’s time.
All that, instead of doing what Christopher just offered us to do in such a properly British manner. These guys are a hoot. Especially when all four arrived to spend Christmas with us. Lord Carlton with Captain Christopher, and Lord Sedgefiled with his lovely husband Ian.
James kept mispronouncing Ian’s name in Russian manner, I tried to copy their British accent, Lord Carlton kept on staring into James’s face like he had never seen a man before, and then we’d have orgies to put Roman Empire to shame.
All of us, but Christopher. He’d politely wish us goodnight, and leave.
Sedgefield then would pin me to the bed even before Christopher had a chance to make three steps down the hall.
These were good times. Sedgefield promised to come back as soon as his schedule would allow. “Samuel of Salem,” He told me with a twinkle in his eye. “You are a marvelous lay.”
All was good until James got it into his psychotic head that he was dying.
Now his own prediction is hanging over all of us. Carlton takes it especially hard when James indulges in counting how many days he had left to live. Then the mellow lord pulls himself together an retaliates by rebuking James for poor behaviour and lack of faith in Melekh’s Plan.
15 mins to Service, after which we are supposed to give an opinion on Leot’s algorithmic blueprint.
And I haven’t even looked at the darned Leot’s algorithmic blueprint...
I see, Carlton is not very happy this morning, either. Not that I ever saw him happy. Friggin’ Spock.
Granted, I’ve only had a chance to witness him for one month since he acquired James.
Melekh, then, moved us into one of His mansions on Level 2, at an undisclosed location. Here we are. Thanks God, at least a part of us is no longer locked in the ego-prison of One Separation Unit. One cell.
So, I’ve only had experience with Carlton since he acquired James. And me, for I gave myself to James. Now I go where he goes. Because I love him so much. He is my only chance to get out of an ego-cell my body is languishing in on Level 1. Carlton’s body is there too, probably just down the hall from mine.
Lunch time. We live by a standard Andromeda Federation 36 hour day. Only heir “day” would be over 400 000 (four hundred thousand, people!) times dimmer than ours.
Their day would be as bright as a full moon on Earth. Then down the gutter from there. The Grehedi who owns that particular territory might set his artificial sun (are they kidding me?) to an even lower setting. Say, 2 yarky. An only a half-full Moon of Earth, or so. I learned all this here, at this makeshift school Melekh created for us.
After lunch we have, probably, 25 more hours to go.
*** *** ***
Still struggling with translating a 36-hour day into a 12 hr one for correct time-stamping, if at all possible within our complete radio silence orders. The are six hexagons, one on top of the other. Right? That’s how Leot sees time of one day.
A message emerges over a bridgeplate altar in the classroom. Thanks to the Kumlatov Branch largess we now have an altar in every room. Granted the Kumlatovs themselves don’t have a pot to piss in, and wear rags over their wings. But Daddy Kallitris always foots the bill.
Our new stabilizers are thickly studded with diamonds from Coma Berenices. A separate amazing story about those. I do not always have time to record everything that happens in one day, now that the school started.
But a couple of events are worth mentioning. Kumlatov was not able to appear today for his scheduled lecture, but sent us the freshly finished personal stabilizers.
The story about those is that every ring of it is worth a certain measure. A measure of how wide the door of your soul is open to the Original Source. The more rings - the better. Captain Christopher had four diamond rings around his stabilizer. Lord Carlton had two. I only had one.
But James has twelve. Just about when we were going to rightfully corner him on how he managed to get his door to open so wide within a time span of only four decades, basically, he turned some rings on his stabilizer, and suddenly all of ours also had twelve of those studded rings.
“James, come on, tell us what you did?” I tried, but the most ethical of us, Captain Christopher, shook his head at me. “I think this subject is closed.” He whispered to me, for I was visibly still fighting the temptation to go after James.
Oh, and I have discovered the identity of a mysterious older gentleman about ten rooms to the left from us. He appeared there about two days ago.
I got a chance to chat with him today as I cried in the park, waiting for James and Carlton to come back.
He said his name was Leonard. He said he’s been here a while. Three years or so, he said. I said that no one is allowed in this place of Level 2. This is a restricted area. Do you have your DC-HG card, I asked.
He did not look like one of us, but I did not know what other ID to ask for. He obviously was not an omega, and he did not smell like self-pity poison we all shoot like the miserable addicts to pain that we are. Every friggin’ day. So, what else is there?
He knew what the card meant, at first looked affronted, but then he got a hold of himself, apologized and added that he has his own demons to overcome yet.
Then, as the wind in the treetops died down, he was calm as the quietest and the most peaceful of Tibetan monastery gardens.
He put his hand on mine, an elderly man’s hand, and produced a note. The note said that it gave Mr. Leonard {so and so} the right to help and patronize a certain Mr. James Kellspell. Only in his note James was under a different name. A female name. Then there was a signature. It was a signature of James’s father.
Ahem. A lot to digest. The year on the note was 1979.
The wind picks up in the park that surrounds our secret compound. I watch the trees bowing to the will of the wind, and my eyes are drawn to the cloudy thickening of air around a text.
Oh, right, the message above the altar. This is a message from my new friend Leonard (I recognized his cell-it’s literally a hexagonal cell on the Net Comm):
“My soul is here for the taking
In holy hours of love-making.”
Is it his, or is he reminding me of something? I cannot always follow him. He told me that his cell and James’s father’s cells were aligned in 1979 and the beginning of 80s.
James’s father spoke some English. That’s a historical fact. Leonard says he remembers James to be “yay tall”. I wonder if James remembers any of this.
Or comfortable to see someone who stubbornly remembers him as a female. After I corrected him at least twice. He then, said “don’t worry, I’ll watch over her anyway.”
Granted, I also remember James as Krista. I handed him his men’s clothes that used to belong to my old friend... For God’s sake. But I darn well knew that Kellspell looked like a woman because he was doing penance in Hafnia. He was ordered to switch for three years.
I was the one sent with the new orders and a male avatar. He passed the tests, so he was allowed to get back into the skin he was comfortable in.
I wasn’t there to read a lecture on transgender issues, either.
Other than that little snag he is very wise, my new friend. And I needed it today, too. Happy for my job, but suffering from my own weakness. For I fell in love with a man who was never supposed to belong to me. And now I choke on all words that start with “c”.
10 (10)
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
The Daffodil Of Hammersmith
“Lord Carlton, may I trim your fingernails? Lord Carlton, can I run you a bath? Lord Carlton, may I help you put on your pants? Do you dress to the left, or to the right?”
This is just a poorly glued together tape of my memory playing in my head as I’m waiting for them to come back from an evening walk in Melekh’s gardens.
All alone in this bedroom.
I have a surprise for them in the oven. A dinner. “We have to get along” means just that. I must make an effort, too.
I also have no right to love James so much. Let alone be jealous. I knew darn well who he belonged to when I entered the scene.
I’ve already written two books on how I have no right to love this guy I met last fall. This third one, however, will be fully dedicated to Lord Carlton. Because I’m now obsessed with him. So, this will be the book about how I have no right to be obsessed with a Hammersmith aristocrat.
“I hate to interrupt, Samuel...”
I jump up and run to open the door for Captain Christopher.
“I’m really sorry.” Christopher hands me the printouts while trying not to look at the mess of a bedroom housing three gay men in various stages of nervous breakdowns at any given time. Hint: It is not a very clean bedroom.
“This is the lecture for tomorrow. Kumlatov will be coming for exactly the two hours of this lecture. He will be reading in the indoor classroom.”
I take the stack and thank the Captain.
I wait for him to leave, but he waits for me to read the lecture. His eyes point to it. He is a very polite man like that.
I read the front page.
“LECTURE 6. Charging stations. By Uri Kumlatov Of Sheiredis.
TRIBELIN ENGINE
(Images are available through SENCI via Fractal Interface Channel).
Tribelin engine is a form of a charging station. It is a three-tier station, and I will explain later what “3-tier” means.
Ok, we got that. Let’s explore the difference between a Tribelin and some other, less sophisticated charging station.”
Christopher is waiting for me to break down due to the complicated text, and ask for his help.
But instead I get a flashback to having already listened to Kumlatov’s lecture. This particular lecture. A deja-vu of sorts.
I’m fascinated to see how Time Paradox and Seashell Effect is taking place in Kumlatov’s lecture. The lecture had already been read by him to us, but we will only hear it tomorrow.
“Christopher, what is Time Paradox and Seashell Effect?”
“Oh, but that’s not the topic of tomorrow’s lecture, Samuel. Melekh needs us to pick it up. Your grades are failing. I’m here to keep you focused. Besides, the guys are going to be here soon.”
Right. The guys. Oh.
“Captain, please. I need to know.” I give him an imploring look.
“Oh, ok, but we will not be studying Time Paradox until next month. Well, “Time Paradox” takes place when an event touches an isotropic surface. “Seashell Effect” refers to the fact that the “shell of time” gets wider as it spirals downwards away from the Original Source. From blueshift to redshift.”
“Can you explain what is an isotropic surface within the framework of Time Paradox?” I squeeze the tomorrow’s lecture in my hands, as if that would help me keep myself together when “the guys will be here”.
“The guys are here.” Christopher glances at his Altar. “They just entered Father’s House at Level 97, and they will be here in less than three minutes.”
Oh, Waterfalls Of His Mercy, I must hurry.
“What does it mean “the event touches an isotropic surface”, Christopher? Please.”
“Why?” He presses his lips together. “All you do during class is watch Carlton’s pigeons, and now you want to know the material we have not even studied yet.”
Remarkable. He can also see Carlton’s pigeons.
“Why such interest in science now, Samuel?” Christopher is serious, and I would be too.
He is not a member of our “Deeply Closeted Homosexual Gentlemen’s Club (DC-HG card for short), neither is he, to his honor, a member of our other famous hangout. The Itty-Bitty Self-Pity Committee. Yet, he is here helping us.
“I’m having a flashback to something very important.” I respond honestly, but vaguely. “And you know everything. Because you are our Hermione Of Harry Potter”.
Flattery never hurts. Besides, I’m sincerely fascinated by his desire to study the hardest concepts.
“It means that an event takes place in time.” Christopher lowers his eyes and I see a passing smile. “Time is an isotropic surface. Whatever touches it, has an effect of spreading the consequences of the event, or circles, from a rock that fell into the water, in all directions.”
“Could you clarify?” The guys are going to be here any minute now, and I’m still not getting it. How DOES deja-vu work? Has Kumlatov’s lecture already taken place? What is this flashback of having already heard it, that i’m having? Can it be explained by Leot’s theories of time?
“In ALL DIRECTIONS, Samuel. Not just into the future.” Christopher looks up in an almost romantic way. He seems to be really enjoying the knowledge he is getting here at Melekh’s makeshift school.
“As per the Time Paradox / Seashell Effect theory presence is action. Every presence spreads waves, or “echos” in all directions, for it touches an isotropic surface of Time. Therefore Time Paradox is taking place to you as if you were a rock, falling into the water, and not a stationary object. And that’s just in a nutshell. There are more implications from the theory.”
The man is a walking encyclopedia. I’ll have to think about what he said, plus the lecture for tomorrow that has already taken place, while we are getting it’s “echo”, or a wave from the rock that fell into the water.
Presence is action. Presence. Is. Action. Hmmm...
“Let me open the door for my Lord Carlton! Has my Lord enjoyed the walk? May I clean your shoes now? They will be fresh and ready for tomorrow.”
Argh. I can hear James worshipping Carlton a mile away.
“I’m going to give you three some privacy.” Christopher is walking out of our bedroom backwards, and into the hall from which the voices could be heard. “If you need any help with the lecture, do call me. We can’t be embarrassed in front of Kumlatov tomorrow. It’s that simple.”
With that Christopher leaves.
The footsteps are closer.
Ok, three can play this game. I have something in the oven for the guys. Let’s see if I can join in with the worship of, ahem, Hammersmith Flower.
“I have dinner for you guys!”
“What’s for dinner?” James passes by me and pecks me in the cheek while getting a night gown for Carlton.
“Chicken Cordon Blue!” I say proudly. I did not make it, it was a frozen dinner, but I have a job here, too. It’s a very time-consuming job.
“Lord Carlton is vegan.” James responds while looking through the printouts of tomorrow’s lecture on the dresser.
Oh, really? You are kidding me? I give Carlton a meaningful look, but he is not there to have a fight with me.
He is crying as James helps him take off his shirt, and put on a heavy plush night gown on his royally tall frame.
The man has some incredibly lean, attractive physique, yes. I needed to see that as he was changing.
“All my life, all my life, James, I was looking for you.” Carlton throws himself on the bed, and lays against the pillows in the most graceful, resplendent way.
I had no idea a man could sit like that, and still, somehow, retain his masculinity.
“Through the wires of my cage I watched the faces. I searched for you. Just as wounded, like me, just as bleeding.”
In response James collapses on his knees and kisses Carlton’s feet with abandon.
They started their thing in lieu of dinner. My dinner.
“My most excellent Lord, I may be bleeding, but I kept my wings. I did not let them tie me up.”
Truth be told, there was nothing to tie James to. His family was utterly destitute. Unlike Lord Carlton’s. Ahem.
“I will fly to get to you. I will visit you in your bitter imprisonment. I’ll break your golden cage!”
Lord Carlton sighs heavily and turns to sob into a brocade pillow.
They can go Shakespeare on each other all night, but James will never understand the golden cage of Lord Carlton. For James’s parents did not even have the means for an aluminum one. They just threw the kid into the gutter and prayed he’d swim.
I gasp at the enormity of social precipice between the two. James simply has no idea the weight of being born into a branch of royalty.
But social disparity is the last thing on Carlton’s mind right now. Having cried for the last fifteen minutes, he now had his fill and is laying still among the pillows, his wiry shoulders and the hips of an antique statue the only parts of him seen on top of layers of elaborate embroidered bedding.
“I will eat your chicken later, ok?” James whispers to me as he pours a glass of wine for Carlton.
“Whatever you do, read the lecture.” I point to the dresser. “Kumlatov will be here tomorrow, on the 27th hour, indoor classroom. We must walk in prepared.”
With that I go to another bedroom just next door. It shares a wall with ours. Reckon, I’ll get just a bit of a shut-eye, then wake up due to rigorous love-making noise, and that will force me to study the lecture.
The amount of quality shut-eye I will get will depend on Carlton’s recovery time. I say one hour. James will give him a foot massage for twenty minutes, or so, then the wine will kick in, and James will then spend another half an hour undressing his Barbie... I mean, Ken doll.
And only after he’s done the most artful blowjob one could order in a red lantern district of Amsterdam, will he proceed to fuck Carlton. That would be the only noisy part.
Chapter 11 (11 inversely) Of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
The Daffodil Of Hammersmith
“Obedience to God’s Will is the melting point of all pain.” Melekh dictates as Captain Christopher writes that on the blackboard, and we copy it from there.
My James is working very hard. Writing down everything he can. Oh, he is so lovely and smart. I admit, the Jim Moriarty persona does fit him. I was not sure in the beginning. But now I’m warming up to Carlton’s idea.
“But your ego will never let you merge with God. The Rapture of being with Him is only for those who have suffered enough.”
Jim coughs rather loudly as he is bent over his papers. The unpredictable nature of his new Jim Moriarty persona never bothered me as much as his cough.
Everyone writes down our Teacher’s words. I’m sure, also everyone who watches us via UTOLIKA BRANCH WATERFALLS OF HIS MERCY BROADCASTING.
Everyone, but Lord Perfectly Beautiful Carlton.
He leans in to James, tickling my boyfriend’s cheeks with his curly dark hair.
James turns and whispers something into Carlton’s ear.
I hope he is telling him to fuck off and study, but it’s not it. Oh, no.
Carlton pulls back sharply, his face distorted in agony. He quits listening to Melekh, and sits on his wide plush chair right behind James.
He is leaning rather far now, with his eyes closed, tears escaping from under his eyelids every now and then.
Oh, what now? Maybe he did tell him to f* off and study...
My James notices Carlton’s meltdown, stops working, gets up, and stands by reclined Carlton, holding his hand and mumbling apologies.
Apologies? Am I hearing this correctly?!
“To illustrate the point, I will show you a clip from “My Gentle Prince.” Book 5 “The Bleeding Five: Tauri, Asmadis, Salix, Kallitris, Gina Yasmin.” Melekh raises his eyes, and we have a hexagonal screen against the Velvet Curtain.
“This is Season 6, called “Daughter Of Kallitris”. Obviously, this one is dedicated to the relationship between the Grehedis and the Sheiredis. Episode 4 is named “Leot Exposed”, because in it Uri Kumlatov gets to tell his story, why he started the war in Nasarat of Silver Passion, and how come he chose revenge over the postulates of Magnificat.”
Melekh explains as the screen lights up with a scene deep in the Catacombs under Nasarat City, judging by the walls that constantly change patterns.
A winged being stands with his back to us.
“The best of generals did not have to go to war, if he believed in God.”
We slowly begin to see the face of the speaking winged creature. His long features are covered in brown skin with yellowish spots, forming a pattern on his neck that flows into darker intertwined lines of Sheiredi algorithmic blueprint all the way to his back and the leathery wings.
We recognize Uri Kumlatov.
Mainly because he was just here a few days ago. Granted, that the avatar that gave us a lecture*, was the postmortem version of Commander Uri, and a few hundred thousand years old at that... But he has not changed very much.
———————
* The lecture was on “Bridgeplate of an algorithmic blueprint as an isotropic surface for channeling information”
Uri Kumlatov on the screen breaks down, the tips of his wings shudder and scratch the rocky floor of the Catacombs.
Despite the fact that James is wiping Lord Carlton’s tears with a woven handkerchief instead of watching the clip from most important “My Gentle Prince”, I myself wait for more of Kumlatov’s revelations, because I liked the guy. He did not think very much of our lot, but he was impressed by Lord Carlton’s memory.
A sudden sharp noise slashes across the screen.
What the heck was that?
We are no longer a witness to Commander Kumlatov’s belated remorse. Maybe I needed to hear more about that straight from the horse’s mouth.
Hey, no offense meant. There were no horses in that guy’s genealogical tree. Only the most prominent figures of Coma Berenices and Andromeda galaxies. Did not help him a bit, though.
The screen itself disappears. Melekh is momentarily distracted to a signal from the Net Comm.
“Is it me, or did we just SEE a sound that cut out the transmission?” I turn to Lord Carlton, and he is still in the same position, but now my James is on his knees in front of him, kissing his hands.
“Let’s get back to the video a bit later.” Melekh is done with the “phone call”. And now...”
I’m all ears and eyes, because Captain Christopher smiles in a satisfied, content way. He’s got a report for us!
“... now Christopher will show you what the Creature Of The Catacombs looks like, basically.”
Captain Christopher leaves briefly, and comes from around the Velvet Curtain with a stack of printouts from Fractal Interface Channel.
“ I also have a photograph of a Sheiredi Strobulus unit... Ahem. Believe it or not!”
Captain goes through the prints with explanations. I’ve seen most of these already. But it is worth looking at them again.
The images from Andromeda are as shocking in their detail, as they are impossible to understand. Unless you listen to Capt. Christopher.
Which nobody is doing.
“Great job”. I congratulate him as sits by me after he is done. I have to support him somehow.
“Thank you.” Christopher does not have our brand, or an omega card. So, I don’t even know why he is here. But I’m glad he is.
He picked up a lot of slack when he quickly educated himself on Sheiredi Communnications, and was able to establish and man our first round the clock connection with
UTOLIKA BRANCH
WATERFALLS OF HIS MERCY
BROADCASTING.
It’s like breathing fresh air. He breathes most important Father’s Instructions for us when we forget to breathe.
And you would. With the likes of Carlton.
They are still at it. James humiliating himself, and Carlton playing a wounded diva.
“Do you know what happened?” I ask Christopher, nodding at James and still crying Carlton.
“Actually, I do. I was the closest to them, so I heard.” Christopher is more than friendly. He is deeply forthcoming. “James called Lord Carlton “The Daffodil Of Hammrsmith”.
Christopher then shrugs dismissively, as if he cares not for the gossip, and he only relayed it for me.
Uh-huh. And how does that warrant a quarter-of-an-hour long emotional breakdown that required Kellspell’s full attention right in the middle of Melekh’s most interesting lecture?
Now that they filibustered through the clip from “My Gentle Prince”, I can’t even discuss it with James! Neither did he notice, I assume, that there was a sound that looked like light on that tape!
I’m burning within. We are going to learn to share my James!
“I’m going to need every single one of you write an essay on the discussed matter.” Melekh addresses his disorganized class. “So far Captain Christopher is the only one who turned in any homework!”
“I’m willing to share my conclusions and calculations with you!” Christopher turns to us all with the friendliest of faces.
“No, you are not!” Melekh beckons Christopher towards Him. “You’ve been manning the Kumlatov Bridgeplate AND doing your homework every day. All THEY do is bicker and make out.”
Our Teacher is so incredibly correct. I must take my mind out of the gutter and hit the books. Screw these squabbles. I’ll give Carlton a black eye later.
I get up to follow Christopher, when the former towers above me in all his royal height. Cousin 16 times removed. My ass.
“Will you ever forgive me?” He says, and there is an echo of flapping wings in his voice, and in his eyes.
The smell of some rich, fragrant perfume reaches my nostrils.
Seriously? Honestly? I’m just not inclined to tolerate him today.
And... is this his perfume?!
“You are new here, Lord Carlton. Please note that “Contrition Hour” is after “the happy hour”, and it’s too early to start drinking.”
“Is that a no?” Carlton bows his head and sighs. The new wave of deeply fragrant substance envelops me again. “You can hit me if you want.”
I’m NOT falling for his antiques. Just not today.
“Many would want to do it. I won’t hold it against you.”
Ok, maybe a bit. He CREATES an infuriating temptation to confront him, and then he basks in it. Or, he is so inept and awkward in a relationship, that he simply has no idea what he is doing.
“You are a distraction to James.” I venture and regret that I did.
I have the balls to challenge one of the wealthiest men of his country over a love affair. In the House Of God.
Well, not in the House proper quite yet, but close enough.
Carlton looks frustrated, and James stands right here. As soon as he is done talking to Melekh, all of his attention will be turned back to... oh, this levona smell is overwhelming!
I glance at Carlton, who now stands there, rubbing tears off his face with his perfectly clean hands with meticulously polished nails. Ahem, James spent all evening polishing Lord Carlton’s nails just the other night.
He never offered ME any such services. Ohh, Samuel, we are in for a long haul. If James does not die this year, that is.
Where is this smell coming from? Wait a minute. The Daffodil Of Hammersmith. I’m slow on the uptake.
“You are a distraction, but we have to get along.” I finish softer than planned, for Melekh seems to be done with James. I have to wrap this up. Black eye or no.
“Oh, and James,” Melekh gets the departing Kellspell back, as He is trying to get a hold of Kumlatov via the very Bridgeplate Altar Christopher is working with now.
Christopher is working, obtaining our oxygen - Father’s Instructions for us. As I’m fighting with an English lord over a man.
“Could you compare Leot’s algorithmic blueprint with at least one of Kumlatov Branch blueprints? And tell Me what you think.” Melekh finishes, now somewhat distracted by a conversation with Kumlatov via Bridgeplate.
James nods, barely hiding his adoration for our Teacher.
“James is the best student.” Carlton whispers and starts sobbing again.
Oh, geez! I want to finish him off quickly by saying that James is no longer the best student. Christopher is now the best student. And James can’t be bothered, because he spends the night polishing the nails and massaging the feet of the Daffodil Of Hammersmith.
This is when Carlton looks up, bleeding liquid spring blue sky out of his eyes.
I cast one unwilling glance at him, and I’m transfixed. His unparalleled beauty is a sharper image when he is in so much emotional distress.
Pigeons. Many pigeons take to flight behind his back.
He looks up at those escaping pigeons, making their way up to an ancient church tower, and cries.
“It is only the shortest waves of blue, purple and violet colors that can penetrate any depths, Samuel.” Melekh finds us before James. “Lord Carlton, why don’t you go copy tomorrow’s homework from Captain Christopher? He’s already finished it!”
“So, Carlton rewound enough archive tape to catch your “note to self about “ the noble idiot with a good memory”. You remember any of this?” Melekh puts his heavy, but tender hand on my shoulder.
Of course, I remember! But that was in the very beginning, before I learned more about this poor guy. Before I heard the echo of flapping wings in his eyes.
“And what was it that you saw on the screen, Samuel?” Melekh presses on from the right angle, only as a very wise and a very caring father can.
You can’t keep your lid on when Melekh knocks on the door of your soul.
“I saw the sound!” I react immediately. Strike THIS regret of the day off the list. If I could not talk about “My Gentle Prince” episode to James, Father can do me one better.
“Good. Then the shards of the vase are coming together.” Melekh straightens up has mighty shoulders.
Oh, is that what it was? When we become One, the colors of the rainbow will be back to white, and we will be able to see sounds and hear colors. Which is already happening to me.
Eureka. I must have suffered enough.
“Then what happened?” Melekh’s Voice brings me out of my thoughts, but it is a pleasant resurfacing. Like coming from the cold and dark depths of the ocean and into the loving, warm, rewarding sunlight.
Right when your ego managed to persuade you that the winter in your heart will never end, and no one cares.
“I’m sorry, what?” I look up at Him, and I know He can see my startled, fearful look. Resurfacing was pleasant, yes, but I surfaced empty-headed.
James is still with Christopher and Carlton, by the blackboard, discussing the pictures of a Strobulus, a Sheiredi spaceship of sorts. There is a yellow and red elaborate “pinecone” on one of the images. Only this “pinecone” is not fixing to land on your planet. It will land in your mind.
“Today, Samuel, what happened to the image of a young man yearning for freedom from the tight chains of his heritage and upbringing? Lord Carlton, the man you liked and pitied?”
“Ah...” I let all my worries dissipate in Melekh’s sure embrace. “I’m ok with him. I just still get angry when I see my Lu... I mean, James, getting intimate with Carlton. It’s not really anger. It is a mix of fear and pain.”
Melekh sits me down on a chair, previously occupied by Mr. Liters of Expensive Perfume, and I can still smell it now. Like, half an hour later.
What is his problem, anyway?
“Fear is {distrust for God’s help} the crumpled up protocol of Trust To Me, Samuel.”
Yeah, what do I do with this, um, platitude?
“Will You help Me release the Pigeon out of his golden cage?” Melekh clarifies.
But I’m still not getting it. Apparently.
Because I’m whistling my ego’s self-pity song as Melekh is trying to save us all.
“Can I get into that cage after you guys are done?” ...and I bite my tongue! I bite it big time. But I can’t take it back.
I fell right out of my Hammock Of Grace and into the dirty pile of “happiness is what happens to others”.
But Melekh squeezes me in his iron, sure embrace, and smiles.
I wish I could smile, too. My snakes of self-pity aside, this is not the only worry.
“My Teacher Melekh Shel Zahav! James’s cough has gotten worse! Is he going to check out from Level 1? Will I never see him in person? He is so young and promising. Please give him Your Mercy!”
“I am only able to give him My Mercy if he follows through with My Will, Samuel. That goes for you, too.”
“Yes!” I nod to how easily Father unties all the knots that threaten to strangle us. Pain, worry, self-pity, just to name a few. We just need to follow His Will. And He will never disappoint.
A few hours later I walk into our bedroom, expecting to find my James on top of Carlton, both sweaty and moaning, as it goes.
But James is alone. Whew. We can talk, then.
I sit by his side and smell Carlton’s levona perfume on him. But I hold my tongue. Here is my chance to exercise some self-control and humility. They were badly needed earlier, but I found both of the vessels with such names to be empty. Time to fill them up and drink.
Golden nuggets of obedience to Father’s Will. You can get anything for those.
After all I was just a messenger only three months ago. I brought James his men’s clothes and some good news about his health.
That was supposed to be it. Very little of me in James’s large and lavish saga.
But I could not just leave. James was captivating.
My life was regular and boring.
So, i broke down and asked him for a job. He gave me a job of the Chronicler of all events here at Melekh’s secret school. I’m an Arkchil of sorts, then.
We ended up in bed because I really wanted him. And James has a speech defect. He can’t say no to a man. I used that handicap against him.
Did I not know that Carlton was coming to claim James in his golden carriage with his Family Crest dating all the way back to Roman Empire? I did know that. Everyone knew that.
“We are both profoundly sorry to have hurt your feelings, Samuel. You are my sweetest, you know that?” James smiles at me, and his Jim Moriarty black as night eyes light up with love. “I read both of your memoirs. “Shadows and Smoke” was painted in cool colors, and “Hills Of Metal” made me both sad and hopeful. You are an excellent writer.”
And he is an excellent diplomat.
It is not long before I’m in his embrace, sobbing, and he runs his hand through my hair.
“Where is Lord Carlton?” I ask, and I know that I have no right to be jealous. My James and the Hammersmith aristocrat had a “moonlight wedding” five years ago. Meaning, they were secretly upgraded to a union on Level 2.
After that James packed his meager belongings and entered a three year apprenticeship with the harshest of teachers in Hafnia. I had the guts to roll back the archives of his training there. Some tapes are very hard to watch.
Like Isaak and Maestro K dragging a disheveled, half-dressed, bleeding, crying and resisting James down the hall and into a small private cinema in the House Of The Blue Moon Of Malachite Constellation to watch Maestro’s one particular performance James did not care to see. But you do not say no to Maestro K. Or Isaak for that matter.
Stuff like that. Their life. Kellspell’s path to win Carlton’s heart. Or, rather, collect enough “gold of obedience” to pay for the beautiful blue blood. To be able to be with him.
I was not a party to any of this.
“He’s doing homework with Christopher.” James responds and slides his hand under my shirt. How can I continue holding a grudge for what had happened this morning during class, when my beloved wants me?
What else is there to talk about?
This is when James bends over in a bout of heavy, hoarse cough.
Fear wraps my soul into a tight icebox, and I suffocate within.
Follow through with His Will to be protected by His Mercy.
I hug my convulsing lover and I know that I will never be able to survive his death. If that’s what is coming. How can we lose him? Now? He might be taken away from us after decades of struggle and building the Stairway To Heaven with just his blood, sweat, tears and paper records?
We are here because of him.
But we are also here because of Father.
Follow through with His Will to receive His Mercy.
THIS FILE is a copy of VORES HEMMELIGHED
THIS LINE CUTS OFF CHAPTER 12 OF BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
(SEASONS 1,2 ARE IN THE ORIGINAL VORES HEMMELIGHED FILE.
Chapter 12 (10, inversely from the bottom of 21 chapters total)
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Part 3
By Samuel of Salem
So, I wrote this with my blood. There is no other ink in the Temple Of Redemption. This is exactly what it is, but we do need to change the name of the temple. Sounds cool, but feels like a cliche.
I’m the Narrator, therefore I’m the first one to the stage to intro the characters, and the last one off it with words of wisdom and encouragement for the venerated audience.
Cool, right? Maybe, but that means that there is no one to introduce me, or say “Samuel coughs loudly”, or “Samuel thinks for a second with his brows furrowed”.
Samuel has to fend for himself in this. His boyfriend was acquired by a powerful individual in dire need of love. James has no more time for his Samuel.
With that in mind I’ll let you enjoy this show. Enjoy, and think of poor Samuel, who is not going to get any tonight, because his boyfriend has to serve the most beautiful man in the world.
James Kellspell rushes to the stage as if he is being chased by a thousand Russian hounds. His long hair is disheveled, his face is a mess of make up and dried up tears, and he reeks of booze. He is coughing loudly, while an almost empty pack of red Marlboro falls out of his pocket.
“Oh, jeez, please do not make me do it!” James crumples yet one more piece of paper in his shaking, sweaty hand. Hangover is hitting him really hard, and he tries to hide it. “I don’t know how to override the “self-pity” prion. It ravaged me every day of my life!”
Kellspell throws himself onto a chair at the table and stares into the darkness in grim anticipation.
Lord Carlton emerges out of the aforementioned darkness, and crosses the stage in a fast, confident manner. In his elegant gait.
“You are the only one who can develop an antidote to the poison that is slowly killing me, too, as we speak!” Now Lord Carlton is walking there and back behind the seated James, his face tight with effort to hold himself together.
“What if you are lying to me? What if you are not being “eaten by the poison”, like me? What if you are just like the rest of the “chosen ones”? Only and ever care about your own fat cat belly and your bank account? In this case, I don’t care to develop the antidote. Not just for myself, I don’t.” Kellspell grabs another piece of paper, and throws it across the stage, parallel to the Velvet Curtain.
The audience gasps in one stunned breath. How dare he say that to Lord Carlton?! What is Carlton going to do?
James has his doubts. He lusted after Carlton long enough, but he is conflicted, because he is used to helping the poor, the abandoned and the destitute, and there is not a stretch in the world that can link Carlton to those.
I watch poor Lord Carlton. The morning sun penetrates his eyes the color of the late spring sky in London.
He looks like he was hit in the gut. He stopped pacing and just stands there, his curly dark hair strewn about his cheeks and his neck, his faded blue eyes quickly filling with a wounded, grievous expression.
His full, perfectly shaped lips are half-opened in disbelief of what he just heard. His lean upper body is tight, as if he expects to be hit again, and has resigned himself to it.
I reckon he is about to break down and cry.
Even with his mighty professional abilities to act any way he wants, it takes him a few seconds to recover from this really shameful, lowblow, no holds barred strike.
I love my James, but he can be an incredible asshole at a drop of a hat.
After all, he signed the Covenant with Carlton’s name on it, knowing that the man was of royal blood. James wanted his Prince Charming? He got his friggin’ Prince Charming.
Carlton, on the other hand, signed the Covenant with James’s name on it, while darn well informed that James was psychotic, bipolar and suicidal. Lord Carlton wanted his Nicola Tesla? He got his friggin’ Nicola Tesla.
“I could have said that you hurt me greatly, when you herded me with the rest of the “fat cats”, as you call them, I could have also reminded you that the self-pity prion hurts Father first, for we are His Tissue.” Carlton comes closer to James and leans over slightly to fix him with a firm stare. “But all I’m going to say is: you might not be sure of who I am, or what I experience, but you must be sure of your own feelings.”
James raises his head from the table, dark as a winter cloud, and opens up his mouth. All for naught, because incredible Lord Carlton has pulled himself together and is ready to go for the throat.
“Last night, right over there by the bed, after a night of hard drinking, you were on your knees in front of me, kissing my hands for what must have been a quarter of an hour, swearing on your mother, father, and the periodic table of elements, that you loved me. Furthermore, ...”
James swallows hard and parts his lips, revealing artificial front teeth, a memorial to decades dedicated to martial arts. It is unclear if he wants to say something, to kiss Lord Carlton, or to marvel at a fragrant mess of his bipolar behaviour.
Lord Carlton, although quickly burning through his hydrogen, is still afloat.
“Furthermore, let’s take into account the fact that... that I believed you.” He raises his voice and gets even closer to James. “And that’s what is important. That was yesterday. Now, only eight hours later, the morning after you got what you wanted, meaning, after you had sex with me, you call me a fat cat and refuse to help me.”
Atta Lord Carlton. His brilliant speech ignites the audience and is going to leave our James’s reputation with a black eye for a while.
And he knows it.
James now sits with his head bowed, a crumpled piece of paper still in his hands, but it is now rolled into a smaller ball. His hangover is now pounding in his temples (I know the feeling) and all he wants is a cigarette.
But not yet. Not until Carlton is through with this well-deserved, and long coming whipping.
“You would have never disrespected your teacher like that.” Lord Carlton presses on, as his voice breaks against his will.
At the mention of Maestro K, Kellspell’s whole body jerks up and he drops the wad of paper on the floor, but does not raise his head.
“You would never question him, you would never defy him, and neither would you call him a fat cat, as he, too, buys himself sports costumes for $2000. And this is what it tells me, while your kisses are still hot on my lips...” Carlton takes a few steps back and gives Kellspell a frowned look, like James just landed here from the moon.
“It tells me, that you don’t care about me, and you don’t trust me because of it.”
Maybe even I can’t handle what is coming now. I feel for Carlton. He was someone I saw as nothing more than “happiness is what happens to him” thing. Not anymore. The illusion of his happiness is falling apart before my very own eyes.
“Please do not forget, James,” Carlton sighs, his shoulders slumped, but his eyes hard. “After you were done spinning the story about how much you loved me, you pushed me to this very bed, and you had your way with me for as long as you wanted, in every which way you wished. And I happen to remember, and cherish, your every thrust. I’ve put a lot into this relationship, but all you do is use me.”
James does not answer for what must be an eternity. And what would you answer to that? Guilty as charged, Mr. Kellspell. Just take your beating with as much dignity as you have left.
They interrupt the scene for the Service. We all participate.
Ten minutes later James picks up his lines.
“What do you want? I’m a prisoner, my Lord.” Kellspell has the balls to say.
That’s a faux pas with Mr. Carlton, and he is going to make Jim feel it, if it is the last thing he does.
He gathers all his strength, as his hydrogen burns into helium, and now his helium clings to carbon.
“I’m a prisoner, too, James. And I’m a slave, just like you. But while you dropped and disregarded your bonds and brands, I’m still wearing mine in my name. And between my eyes. And I will wear it for the rest of my life, God give me strength.” Carlton takes a jagged breath.
“All I’m asking the man of extraordinary mental capacities, and a man who says that he loves me, the man who burns my lips, when he touches them, and when I whisper his name, all I’m asking this man, is one favor. To help me carry my brand, and my chains, in the most honorable way I know how.”
Excellent segway into his own issues. Lord Carlton is packing heat. And he should.
Now that it has been almost a month since we were acquired by him, and he encroached on my time with Lu...
I mean, James. Well, now that James abused poor Lord Carlton enough, I’m beginning to feel more compassion and respect for the man. Now that he’s been through the same stuff that I was with Kellspell, now we can talk.
“Have you not any mercy left in your heart? Care you not for my pain?” Lord Carlton has burned through his carbon, and is now on his knees, on the floor, by James’s chair. “Or are you like those fat cats you mentioned? Only instead of a bank account, which would have been a small issue, you only care about your universal tumor of self-pity.” Carlton lifts his head and his lovely, youthful cheeks are glistening with tears.
“A tumor of self-pity, commonly known as grudge, which is an insult to God worse than the love of money you accuse me of.”
Oh, that was a bad one. A bucket of shame.
That bent Kellspell over. Here he is, tied to the whipping post, for everyone to see and denounce.
Worse off, I was a witness to James’s drunken courtship. Last night he turned on “Dance Me To The End Of Love” by Leonard Cohen, and was pouring his heart out to a tired, also drunk, and distressed Lord Carlton in a thick Russian accent.
Then he, basically, raped poor Carlton, and in the morning added insult to the injury by refusing to develop an enzyme that converts ego-programming into positive thinking guided by Father.
And I’m standing right here.
As Carlton continues to plead.
“Please help me not agree with my ego. Please protect me from the prion that is ravaging my mind as we speak. That is all I’m asking. Please develop the antidote. Kumlatov gave you all the necessary blueprints of bridgeplates. Please.”
Lord Carlton goes all out.
Oh, my James. He is the worst when he loses hope in himself. But even he can’t take it anymore.
Like a dog for a bone, he reaches out for Carlton’s lips as the audience erupts in excited screams and applause. That’s their favorite part of the show.
That’s what so many come for. To watch Kellspell and Carlton kiss.
And so much more.
Both are on the floor now, Kellspell ripping Carlton’s shirt off and Carlton whispering “Hold on, let me unbutton it, I’m all yours, no need to take me by force.”
They roll behind the couch, away from the greedy attention of the audience. Scuffle and moans cold be heard for a while, but then even that quiets down. Our heroes are gone into the realm of love.
NEXT DAY
James has a bad breakdown in the morning at the Skyfall Ranch. Lord Carlton comforted him as much as he could. By giving him a blowjob right on the field. But it was not windy that hour. We should rename that outpost “Mesmerix” because of 60 mph winds there. Try giving a bj to someone with your mouth full of forced air.
25 NKS (Of Moon Cycle) Of LKS 20.
SamSalem69: See, I can’t use dates here, Melekh. Should we come up with something else?
MelekhShelZahav: Hold on, let me put you through to Uri. He can fix anything. Hiding your monoclinic signature is the key, my boy. Good job.
UriKumlatovOfSheiredis: Samuel, synchronize your plug-in to altar bridgeplate with Captain Christopher. Then start your report.
SamSalem69: Captain Christopher, sir, are you ready?
ChristopherOfShire: Yes. Samuel, please don’t call me “sir”. Makes me feel... old. We need to speed this up, because Lord Carlton is crying here.
SamSalem: Confirmed. Here we go:
James had a breakdown this morning, too. This time about dying of cancer. But his acidity level went way down, so he is almost normal now. Took total care of H.M. -that’s our final frontier of good behaviour. He is looking forward to “being released from this body”, and “going Home”.
ChristopherOfShire: Oh, I see, that’s why Lord Carlton is crying.
CURTAIN
Chapter 13 (9) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Part 3
By Samuel
“So, you want to know why I discarded all the bonds and brands of my genealogical tree?” James is just done nailing me and Lord Carlton to the bed, and now he wants his harem to listen to his lengthy, disconnected ramblings.
His features are of Jim Moriarty, but he has Lu’s long hair and his terrifying teeth of a ring fighter.
Grotesque, but effective.
It’s summertime Moon Cycle and we have some time before {someone’s} next nervous breakdown. I’m game. I just had a very good time in my boyfriend’s care, so I’ll listen to his deranged speeches.
“It’s because half of them were witches, and the other half were slaves.” James widens his eyes and makes an exploding sound.
He now looks like an owl that met an unexpected tree trunk. You have to give James this. He is entertaining.
The admirable Lord Carlton is laying on his back, his wiry, lean muscular arms behind his head, looking straight in front himself.
He is not inclined to talk. It all went wrong after James this morning ran around the apartment, coughing, whizzing and claiming he is dying of lung cancer.
If I did not know my friggin’ boyfriend, I’d think he was making that up just to poke and scare the crap out of morally fragile and impressionable Lord Carlton.
But Kellspell performs his “Dying Swan” dance about twice a month or so.
“Can you love someone and hurt them really deeply at the same time?” Lord Carlton says, and in his words I hear the flapping of the wings of a thousand frightened London pigeons. This man has never been free in his entire life.
“Why did you come to me, anyway?” Kellspell shakes off Carlton’s platitude.
“You came to me first, and yes.” Carlton answers his own question and the echo of the flapping wings resounds long after he is silent.
James ponders that and nods.
“I did not come to you. I came here for you. I was born here so I could help you.” Carlton’s profile is that of an antique Greek statue. The perfect lips, the chiseled nose. James is right, you can’t stop looking at him. He is endlessly mesmerizing, like a tide, or fire.
James gives me a bright, reassuring look, and I must admit that he has a lot of charm, even as he believes that he has no more than 6 months left to live.
Which is ridiculous, because “his” ego can’t see the future, for one. No ego can do that. Or see anything for that matter.
“But why now? Why are we together now?” Jim presses on as Captain Christopher places his hand on the bridgeplate altar to re-connect us to Melekh via
UTOLIKA BRANCH
WATERFALLS OF HIS MERCY
BROADCASTING
A very touchy moment, for Eridani Industries “5 Minutes To Revelation” went off air about three days ago. I mean, this is when it reached us.
Commander Uri Kumlatov Of Sheiredis took control of the secret re-transmitting station that is our only connection right now.
But an unregistered, unidentified station has its problems. We have to be extra-stealthy to conceal the touchdown point of the signal.
We’ve been tiptoeing across the sky ever since. It’s Uri’s expression for watching your monoclinic signature breathlessly. Stealth is all the rage right now, if I can use this expression.
Now ensconced in Kellspell’s sure embrace Lord Carlton no longer looks lost. In fact, he appears to be as whole and content as a pistachio nut inside of its shell.
“I came to you because you started working on developing the antidote before I was even born.” Carlton finally whispers with his perfectly sculpted lips.
I sit on the bed and smoke as at least ten Arkchils record this scene. Carlton says cameras don’t bother him. Hey, I thought so too until I started seeing the Arkchils.
“Actually three years after you were born, but close enough.” James lays on top of Lord Carlton and kisses his chest, slowly moving down.
Carlton closes his eyes, and as much as I regarded him to be one of the “fat cats”, he is an incredibly handsome individual. And as shy in bed as a virgin. Loved that.
“So, what about your “dying agenda”? Carlton asks quietly as Kellspell lifts the blanket, revealing the completely nude body. Carlton’s marvelous body.
Carlton watches James, but does not stop him.
“It was dealt with in the most honorable way, my lord...” James murmurs into Carlton’s belly button. “Not to be accused of impropriety, just like you ordered...”
My part. Here we go. I approach this masterpiece of a human from the left side of the bed.
“My Lord Carlton, I was told to relay this to you: “James Kellspell is a soldier of the Legion Of Light. He will follow through with his Commander’s Will. He will do what he is told, and he will go where he is ordered to go.”
Ok, I nailed that one.
Carlton gives no reaction to Kellspell’s caress and my report alike.
I get lost in admiring Carlton’s lean chest and the slowly moving muscles of his arms as he changes his position a bit.
But that’s it. Needless to say, he is very good at hiding his true feelings. A lifetime of practice. This man’s wings were clipped so much for so long that his notion of freedom is alike to that of the lambs in all their famous silence.
Open the door, and he won’t run.
Haunted by the echo of the flapping pigeon wings in Carlton’s mind, I go back into my memories. The first time I saw Carlton by James. It was during our “bonding ceremony” on New Year’s Night by London time.
Tall and pale, almost blush against the street lights, Lord Carlton towered over both of us, as beautiful as he was stone- faced.
Stone-faced and gorgeous, he stood there by James’s right side.
I wanted to ask James how he was planning to get away with stealing a statue of David from Louvre, but held my tongue.
It was hard to believe that Carlton was finally with us. Truth be told, he called James from London at least twice a week. James cherished those phone calls, but never seriously believed we’d ever have enough credits to acquire an omega quite as precious and expensive.
Also, Kellspell did not know at the time that Carlton was an omega. We both believed him to be an alpha.
Chapter 14 (8, inversely of 21 Chapters) Of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
By Samuel Salem, still
“Now I know your secret! Now you are not going ANYWHERE from me!”
James (oh, my Lu in the costume of “Jim Moriarty”. I’m still getting used to this sight!) grins somewhat stupidly, with an overall facial expression of someone who just won $20 000 in a casino, and can’t believe it. Looks around, and can’t believe it still. He is being urged to go pick up his winnings, and he is like “no, really? All this is mine and you will let me just take it?!”
Lord Carlton reveals no reaction. He just stands by the Velvet Curtain, his face is as serious as it is serene, like of someone who finally accepted a heavy sentence, and is trying to live with it.
“That’s what they said.” Carlton whispers, his majestic profile sharp against the black fabric of the heavy stage curtain. His gaze is now painfully focused on one spot on the wall, as if he hopes to burn a hole there, and escape through it.
As if unaware of Carlton’s mood, James continues with the celebration of his prize: “Now I’ve got you by the balls!”
Lord Carlton does not answer, but lowers his head, and stares at the floor.
Entranced by his performance, I do not notice how James quits being a possessive ass and approaches Carlton. He takes his hands to rub and pat him gently. Carlton does not seem to respond in any way, but his features soften.
I only hope that this is forever, for I really need this job.
“But then, of course, I can’t pull you out of your prison by your balls.” James draws an obvious conclusion that renders all his previous comments rather inappropriate. As if all he cares about is to add himself to the list of those who imprisoned Lord Carlton.
Which he does. It is all he cares about. My morally bankrupt lover would do anything. Anything, I tell you, to retain ownership in Lord Carlton.
Melekh approaches me quietly. In fact, so quietly that I do not notice Him until his finger points to the lines in the script in my hands.
“Put this one here.” He whispers as James lowers himself to his knees in front of Lord Carlton, kissing his hands ever so passionately. “We forgot to change this scene last night during the reading.”
I nod, excited, fascinated by the performance, and the smell of future. It smells like many cigarettes smoked over a script. It smells like unheard of finding by someone the size of Michael Bloomberg, believing sincerely in your project, and it smells like love.
Lots and lots of hot love.
“But if I can’t break you out of your prison, I can always join you there!” James whispers, but loud enough for the audience to hear damn well, and remember his intentions.
Yeah. Like I said. He’ll do anything to win Lord Carlton’s heart.
Ok, here we go. My part. God help me not to break down before I have to.
Melekh is instantly here, patting me on the shoulder ever so lightly. But this gives me all the confidence I need.
“Awakening while still in your body means lifting a hefty slab of misunderstanding between us and Father.”
I come closer to the edge of the stage, my voice rising.
“The slab is 13 bln yrs thick and growing. That is why we all under it in such a heavy, impenetrable slumber.
It is because we are wrapped in layers of cotton wool permeated with chloroform of incorrect beliefs.
This “chloroform of incorrect beliefs” that causes incorrect protocols is the ego-machine that keeps on misinterpreting what we see to break us further away from the Source.”
I take a quick breath as the audience acts somewhat confused. Some of the people are still watching our star-crossed lovers.
Lord Carlton is now handcuffed and led away, followed by sobbing James.
But their scene has now faded to the background. The foreground is the screen behind me.
On it - transmissions from Phillipos of Cassiopeia, via Andromeda’s own Eridani Industries “5 Minutes To Revelation”.
On an unrelated note, Sardonyx paid with his life for this last transmission. Which was, kind of, expected of him after a lifetime of swings between loyal pussyfooting and covert rebellion against Leot.
. . : . . DORILIN ENTRANCE
.: .: .: FAITH DECODED
:: . . . :: . . . Hafnium Studies
:::: :::: :::: Science
:::: . . . :::: . . . Hafnia Radio
...... ...... ...... ......
MIRROR DIMENSION CODE
Chapter 8 of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
AMAZON:
Griffinfrank@mail.ru
carlton76
Voreshemmelighed65@icloud.com
lana1974
Melekh and Kellspell:
“Lapulechka, “ego” is like weather on Lira. Do not listen to the wind that howls in human voices. Do not be upset at the biting cold. Get out of the ego-weather INSIDE OF MY HOUSE.”
Lord Carlton: What’s the deal with Lira?
I pull up SENCI “Best Estelians For All Your Needs”: LIRA. A planemo almost at the edge of event-horizon of Andromeda Galaxy’s two black holes... Size and the composition of air... Oh, here we go, “LORE: Rules on Lira: “The weather is not yours unless you start talking to it.” Whatever that is supposed to mean.
“Samuel, no editorializing. Just facts.”
“Yes, my Lord Carlton.”
I can’t believe I editorialized out loud!”
Chapter 15 (7) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER:
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me.”
This game is rigged no matter what.
Please understand, and come to God.
“If you have a pattern, then it is governed by a code. Therefore, a code produces a pattern. Create a code to have a pattern. And, conversely, if I see a pattern, I can get to it’s code.” Lord Carlton recites the lines of the main character of “Genesis Of Hafnia”, which would be Episode 1 of working name {Andromeda Archives}.
“How?” Kumlatov circles Lord Carlton in his heavy gait. Way heavier than a Sheiredi should have. And yes, we saw his “patterns” in a transmission from his native Silver Passion of Leot’s Crown Constellation. Shocking stuff. We are yet to see the code that produced them.
“By isolating its sequence.” Lord Carlton finishes with his head held high as my Lu in the character of Jim Moriarty from “Sherlock Holmes” applauds him adoringly.
Lord Carlton finally settled to call my Lu “James Kellspell”, because he can’t call him “Jim Moriarty”, and “Kellspell” alone sounds like a name for a dog.
“You are going to give him your favorite character of Sergey Bodunov?”
“Not now, Samuel!” Kellspell shakes his head and waves me away.
“What is going on there, Jim?” Lord Carlton is turning to us as he presses a copper ring on the index finger of his right hand.
That gesture causes my Lu... oh, Kellspell to sink to his knees, his hips and small back convulsing in a dance of a snake trying to get rid of the old skin.
“What, now he has the power to switch you on and off, like TV? Why?” I whisper hotly into his face as he crumbles to the floor.
“So, What is the pattern of Level 1, Carlton?” Commander Kumlatov continues his quiz, unamused and unperturbed. We probably do look like children to this fallen, but sentient being.
“The song of this world will devastate you one way, or the other.” Lord Carlton raises his voice as he incinerates me with his look. “For if it is not sad, then it ends!”
Chapter 16 (6) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER:
“Oh, I see!” Kellspell writes down after Melekh. “Their “House Colors” are their “fabric” to build their own “Oculum” out of.
“What are the already known “Formed Oculums, Lord Carlton?” Father turns to our most cherished Lord Carlton, who is adjusting the volume on the background of “3 Hrs Of Best Water Drops Sounds”.
“Well, first are Of the most well-known
Why does this olibanum smell like cow dung?
How dare you?
URI Kumlatov enters;
Kumlatov: Carlton, why is your slave bleeding?
Lord Carlton: Oh, James!
Kellspell is on his knees, kissing Lord Carlton’s hands.
Lord Carlton Picks up the Scepter.
Kumlatov: ...and why does this olibanum smell like cow dung?
Lord Carlton, now repentant: Oh, James!
Kumlatov: James Kellspell, stop worshipping this boy so shamelessly!
Lord Carlton and James Kellspell, continue to write down after Commander Kumlatov:
Kumlatov goes there and back in a heavy gate, his large wings, like a winter leather coat, drag behind him and catch at the blackboard:
“1 Amatrix is 18 Oculums
( Each “head” of an Amatrix is 6 United Oculums).
Since we know that an ENTIRE species has to “pull back” into One to even be considered for an incarnation as an “Amatrix”, we can see that an entire species could be worth as much as 6 Oculums.
We also know that only the BEST, most United and the most that have to offer at that moment (might be too fragmented even as entire species to be considered) will be promoted to an-Amatrix-like “position”.
Hence, and typically to my own knowledge, a species is roughly worth one Oculum. In other words, for you to grasp a comparison, ALL OF THE HUMANITY needs to look at a certain subject ALL EXACTLY THE SAME. Oh, give me a hot topic. Women’s rights. Perfect. Now, imagine, how long will it take for your whole SPECIES to start looking at women’s rights the same.
Yeah, an excited Al-Qaida fighter building a university for his wife and sister with his own bare hands, smiling ear to ear. Thank you for this illustration. You get the point. This is how far you are from any type of unification within the species.
I did not mean to touch a very, um, touchy subject. Ahem, can we delete the last paragraph? It’s too political. Let’s stop the tape, and find another example.”
Kellspell nods and hides an excited smile. Commander Kumlatov is tremendously intelligent and at least just as handsome.
“So, cross the line quicker, my Lord” He whispers to Lord Carlton, while following Kumlatov’s instructions. “We can both give him head.”
“Shut up!” Lord Carlton hisses at his aide. “You could not tell women’s rights from a piano, Kellspell!“
Gets up and addresses Uri, who has picked up his mistake, and already changed his appearance into something sort of a teacher: “Commissar Kumlatov, can you elaborate on the women’s rights on Andromeda?”
“Carlton, sit down!” Kumlatov hits the pointer against the blackboard. “There are no women on Andromeda, Grehedis do not have genders.”
Chapter 17 (5) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER:
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Hard to believe, that it has only been three months.
So much has happened, and I’m still online. 9 am, Lirda Kills Svangibir of the Moon Cycle. We have Kellspell, Lord Carlton and Melekh Shel Zahav on the stage, and a large hall full of rapt audience, whose fates are on the balance depending on the outcome of this performance.
Kellspell, in a costume and character of Jim Moriarty from “Sherlock Holmes”:
Father, I’m in the position to receive the second part of Your Rules.”
Melekh nods from a window up above the stage, to the right of the Velvet Curtain.
The mood of the audience is tense and electrified.
Kellspell, to himself, rubbing the artificial “oculum”, inserted into a “hummingbird’s beak”, forming an elongated version of an Estelian scepter. A communication device.
Father had to give him his Estelian korneus, if only just for this extra important performance:
“Omigosh, I must develop the protocol of holding on to Father at all times, and not straying away.”
Lord Carlton, on his knees in front of Kellspell, sobbing: “Will you please help me cross the line? I really want to be with you!”
Kellspell, on hearing that, with the expression of a kid who got $10 000 worth of gifts for Christmas: “Lord Carlton is ready to cross the line! Must develop the protocol. If I hold on to Father, then I can pocket Lord Carlton, and eat him together with my teacher.”
Snickers and scattered laughs could be heard to that, but most of the audience remains somber.
Kellspell shivers and rubs the Oculum on his Estelian scepter. Seeing inherently violent “Jim Moriarty” with the tools of the most peaceful creature of Virgo Cluster is both comical and historically important.
Lord Carlton, continues with his soulful call: “You told me you wanted to be my slave! Well, then follow my orders! Help me cross the line!”
Kellspell, turning to Melekh in the window, while pushing the groveling Lord Carlton with his foot a tad away from the view: Father, a large piece of Your Wealth with homosexual tendencies fell right on my lap. Please help me to, um...
Melekh, with a grin: Return him to Me?
Kellspell, with a face of a kid, caught with his hand in a cookie jar, which looks especially funny on a face of “Jim Moriarty”: Yes! But can we nibble on him just a tad while we are bringing him to You? (hisses through his teeth in utmost passion) Heisso... so perfect! I had never laid my eyes on anything quite so royally beautiful. Bless my heart, I’m just a gutter rat, I know my place, but my shameless teacher, however...
The disturbance in the audience distracts “Jim Moriarty” momentarily, while I could not care less who else came in.
All I care about is for our team to unite and reach Father. And it might have never happened, because my Lu, even in the character of Jim Moriarty, would not have the balls to chase Lord Carlton.
But for Maestro K. See, the shameless Maestro, Lu’s illustrious teacher, did have the balls to order none other but Lord Carlton for dinner.
The dinner that ends up in bed, that is.
Melekh laughs in the window, his long black wavy hair all over his gown of black velvet: “Yes, you may “nibble” on him. I think, he is ready. Once you show him how to cross “the line”.
Kellspell, taken aback: Father, of all people You should know that there is no “line”!
At hearing that Lord Carlton stops crying and lifts his sorrowful, crumpled face: What? No line?
The audience gasps as one big shocked creature. Whispers and shrieks spread across the hall like lightning through the cloud.
Melekh nods, and points audience to Kellspell: Tell that to them!
A phone rings in Melekh’s booth: Hold on, I have to take this call. This is Utolika.
2nd Hexagon of FATHER’S RULES:
Seven (or 1st Of Second Hex). WHEN WITH FATHER, we only get GOOD NEWS.
Eight (2). No matter what ails you, YOU CAN’T CARRY IT ALONE. Let Father See and heal your wound.
Nine (3). Do not leave Father’s side for any reason. When light loses ground, it is only to darkness, and nothing else.
Ten (4) Keep the unit stable at all times.
Eleven (5) Responsibilities first!
Twelve (6) When you are hurt: Do not lock up. LOOK UP!
Always trust Me with doing it the best way! Never doubt.
Slow Down. What would be another symbol for “slow down” that we wouldn’t be so instantly allergic to?
Voreshemmelighed65@icloud.com
Lana1974
Chapter 18 (4) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Part 2
“We are in the position to narrate the first SIX Rules, my Lord.” Lu whispers breathlessly, and showers Lord Carlton’s hands with hot, passionate kisses.
“Do that, and then we move on to “Letters from “my” ego.” But don’t stray away from the script into rants.” Lord Carlton points to the papers on the table in front of him. “That’s not what you do during readings. There may be thirty more actors in the room, and they are not here for your rants. They are here for the script.”
Lu nods most ardently, a shadow of fear on his face. “But... but I’m not an actor...”
“You’ll do fine! Just remember that you are no longer alone in the room, and read your lines off the bloody script, Kellspell!”
By the way, lord Carlton renamed him “KellSpell” after an unexpected to us, but apparently carefully planned by him, acquisition.
Kellspell takes a deep breath. “Ok, here we go...
FATHER”S RULES
One. No one should get hurt.
Two. Avoid conflict at all times.
Three. Be pleasing to everyone.
Four. We use our mouth only to agree and make happy, not to argue and put down.*
Five. Simple self-organization cuts out 60% of life’s issues.
Six. What is your next step? Prepare for it.
——————————————-
* Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard these lectures. But we can never follow through with being good.
That is because we ALL operate within the “cut-off Triangle” logic.
Everything around us is a consequence of the moment when in my childish rage I cut Father out of our Family Picture.
I cut out Father, The Top Of The Triangle, rendering myself headless.
Then, as if that was not enough damage, I put together the ego-device for a new head (!), and wired my now loose dangling wires TO THAT.
That’s why it is easy for us to hurt other people.
Because, having cut God out of the Picture, we no longer see others as Part Of God, therefore, ourselves.
We are now EGO-DRIVEN. You know what THAT means.
Being sincerely kind to “other egos” is not in “your” ego’s repertoire. God loves us because He sees us as a Part Of Himself. You are not going to “punish” your hand for dropping a cup of coffee. Because it is A PART OF YOU. But this kind of logic is repulsive to the ego-device, whose most faithful slave you currently are. It’s mantra is “freedom and independence”, which is a cool way of saying “separation and loneliness”.
Back to “agreeing and making other people happy”.
We are getting there.
Once you REMEMBER what you did that fateful afternoon at the Eden Garden, once you see how you hurt and disrupted your relationship with Father, you will also understand that “other people” is an illusion.
Oh, you thought I was going to preach to you to love your brother?
Fuck that. Unfriend all them bitches on Facebook. I did.
DO NOT try to wake them up. They are infuriating in their utmost amnesia, and in incredibly moronic obedience to “their” little egos.
So,
Rule # 4: We use our mouth only to agree and make happy, not to argue and put down.
Only when we are forced to communicate with “other people”, that is.
An easy way to follow this Rule is to say nothing.
People only like it when you either say nice things, or make yourself invisible by being silent.
If we fail to do the first, then we can always easily fall on the second.
We go the Benedictine way. Them nuns had nothing nice to say to the world, or to each other, for that matter. So they went silent.
Yeah.
For the record, the Benedictine Order is silent, because you are only supposed to talk to God. But the first explanation always cracks me up.”
“OK, enough of that.” Lord Carlton gets up from a lush velvet chair, and Lu, shaken as he is by this audition, is two clicks away from holding to his groin of growing bulge.
See, can’t believe that WE WERE ACQUIRED BY LORD CARLTON!!!
I can’t believe this either. I really need this job. And my Lu was destitute. Sorry, KellSpell.
“Let’s move on to “Letters From “My” Ego”. Page three, please.”
KellSpell nods, takes a breath, and reads from the script.
“Here is a message I received today from “my” ego. By the way, these messages are computer-generated based on one general algorithm, but your particular circumstances. Here we go:
“You can shut me out all you want, just answer me one question: why am I being treated as insignificant?”
Here is the answer, my dear Last Mask, which is me, the Child Of God, Who drugged myself up and crashed under the ego-device, handing it my now unhinged Oculum.
This is what I have to say: You are not being treated “as insignificant”. You were treated as a Very Significant Member Of God’s Family, until you demanded Father give you “pain”. Then you screamed for Father’s Relics Of Power.
It’s the same as a ten year old demanding his parents stab him in the leg AND hand him their wallets.
So Father said no.
This is when you ran away, locked yourself in this very closet, ate a poisonous apple, created the ego-device, and fell asleep under it for 100 Levels down (about 13 bln yrs).
I’m talking to the Last Mask, who created the robot of ego, for I will not talk to a robot itself.”
Whew. I think my Kellspell nailed it. But Lord Carlton’s face is a stone one. Unamused.
Kellspell repeats the last sentence with some desperation.
“Too monotonous.” Lord Carlton interrupts. “Put some passion into it.”
Kellspell nods somewhat fearfully, and falls silent. “I lost where I was.” He mumbles after a while, and then crashes by Lord Carlton’s feet.
“Can we please find an actor?” He pleads and tears up. “I can’t do it! It’s very hard!”
It’s very hard, indeed. Now that Kellspell is only one click away from holding on to his bulging pants, I can actually see his hardon from here.
“Why am I being treated as insignificant?” Lord Carlton prompts.
“Um, because the dumb ego mindlessly repeats the programming of the Last Mask. I basically hung myself in a logical loop, that’s why. And The One Who longs to treat me as “Most Significant” is locked out of my system upon ego’s orders.
I will, therefore, remain “insignificant”. The ego dares to open up its dirty mouth and ask dumb questions. Then it orders me to keep all the significance out, that’s why, ego, you stinky pile of metal.” Kellspell sighs and sobs.
He then grovels at Lord Carlton’s feet, mumbling something about finding “a professional actor”.
Lord Carlton is not happy. To put it mildly.
“That was an awesome rant.” He finally says. Only it is not in the script.”
He leans over Kellspell, grabs him by both his arms, and lifts him up rather roughly.
“I’m not stage-ready...” Kellspell whimpers in Lord Carlton’s tight grip, but I’m not feeling sorry for him. He is ready. He just needs more confidence.
“This is not what my servant said in his report about you. He said you were “Turn-key!”
My poor Kellspell moans hopelessly and softly, and slides back to the floor, a dark spot appears and quickly grows on the front of his pants.
I blink fast as I record the scene. Blinking away tears helps. I’m laughing inside like I have not laughed before, or since, and I tear up in an enormous effort to conceal it.
Lord Carlton sure found the right time to manhandle my Kellspell. It hasn’t even been a week since we were acquired by him in a rushed and hushed ceremony in front of Melekh at the stroke of midnight of the new year by London time.
With so much on his mind, Lord Carlton was trying to avoid publicity as much as he could, but Lu and I were clueless to that at the time.
A week later we still could not believe that we were now a part of Lord Carlton.
The goal that Lu had set for himself five years ago to the date.
The goal that led him on an incredible path to prove his love for Lord Carlton, and earn the right to be a soldier of his Legion.
And now he was to serve his beloved man directly. God have mercy on my good ol’ Lu and his pants. Ahem, Kellspell’s pants.
Here he is, lying on the floor in throes of the sweetest passion. Just not the kind Lord Carlton was asking for.
“I’ve failed every audition my teacher ever gave me!” Kellspell moans through sobs.
“All you need to do is stick to the script and say it like you mean it!” Lord Carlton is back in his velvet chair now, a glass in his hand.
Kellspell sees that, and pours some hard liquor into it. Lord Carlton sips, looking upwards, his face says “My people need to kick it up a notch.”
Kellspell rubs his forehead against Lord Carlton knee, clad in expensive, light-colored fabric.
I witness, record, and think of having a cigarette.
Kellspell moves away to blow his nose, and Lord Carlton’s pants show wet stains from Kellspell’s tears.
Chapter 19 (3) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
run Protocol LS 1-3-6-9
Protocol LS Dorilin-Mlaste-
Datarmira-Alaetar
Fill the liquid hexagons of time
With obedience to His Will
This is how we break through
The illusion of the wall.
THERE IS NO WALL.
Father is here.
We wake up in the warmth
Of His Loving Arms
Father is making us happy
As we open the door of our soul.
Your Soul is His Most Cherished Energy.
He is the Only One, Who has a Right To Touch It.
Rule to enter into the new set:
If the ego resists an order, and you feel it is hard to override, then SUPERIMPOSE/BYPASS.
We, then, just create a reality channel on top, and we follow orders VIA THAT as is in the script.
In this outcome the isolated resisting hub whose only reason for resistance is “I just want to do it my way” is not disturbed. It can stay frozen in “its way”. Must we add, no matter how damaging to the body and overall moronic that way may be.
But we do not argue, and we do not use force. We simply go around it. Or, rather, create a straight highway on top of the resisting protocol.
Everyone is happy and stays happy, because Father’s orders were carried out throughout the entire entity, and the frozen resisting hub did not need to be stormed directly.
Father’s Orders are most important and are always justified.
The remaining childish resistance within me will subside, once I remember WHAT I LOST when I decided to go rogue on God.
“My way” cost us both 13 bln yrs of incredible pain.
Millions of “Shards Of Father” (commonly known as “people”) are stuck in a painful incorrect ego-programming (“Shaven off top of the triangle”, where the two remaining corners (you and your “wants”, you and other people) are forced to communicate directly with each other, without the Correctly Translating Love Hub Of Father (the Top Part of the Triangle, cut off by the re-wiring into the ego-device).
I created all that pain by being an unruly Child.
Very repentant. Extremely apologetic for what I did. I learned my lesson (exploiting the”Free Will” Rule Of Father’s Law against Him).
Ready to go back Home.
HILLS OF METAL
slowly turning into
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER
Chapter 20 (2)
“My Dearest Teacher!”
“He is doing it!” I stand behind crying Lu with a pen firmly planted in his fingers.
“Let him.” Melekh is calm and reassuring. “He asked for My permission.”
“Good morning to you. I took my heartburn pill, I ate and I pooped, and it’s not even 7 o’clock yet.”
This is going to be a long one. Granted, Lu has shed about half a gallon of tears already, you are just sitting here and trying to remember hectically, if we have flood insurance on this place.
“Noah’s Arc does not need flood insurance, My Love!” Melekh whispers in my ear, causing pleasant shivers to run up and down my spine.
“It is our right to freely dream of stuff that makes us happy...” Lu continues, sobbing now. “So I dream of you.”
Lu sobs and howls while Lord Sedgefield reads over his shoulder.
“His English is mediocre.”
I sigh. Lu’s teacher would not care. Also, both me and my mediocre Lu would love to spend more time with Lord Sedgefield, but he might have to go soon.
We would not mind his jokes about the Americans. We wouldn’t even mind our English be corrected every five minutes. Bitches be crazy. But Lord Sedgefield and his most lovely husband have to leave.
Maybe even at the end of this Hexagon Of Liquid Time.
“I dream of you, my Most Beautiful Teacher! Your unbearable torment weighs heavy on me, for I have no way of buying you out of prison your mind is now inside of.”
Ten Arkchils record as Lu cries rivers over his letter. Seeing how much attention our little gig is generating, I feel more cute, and less forlorn.
“Remember always, that your heart is safe with me. I cherish every minute of the three years we spent together. You are my absolutely Most Precious Gift From Father.” Lu writes, hugging the sack with Maestro K’s meager possessions.
“Do you think anyone will ever cry for us like this?” Mark watches Lu write, blow his nose rather loudly, and then stick it into the sack to get a large healthy whiff of his teacher’s unwashed undies and what have ya.
I shrug. In order to cry “like this” you have to have hurt yourself “like this”.
“Have you...” I look for the right words, turning to Mark. “...seen what’s inside of that sack?”
“U-huh.” Mark nods. “Men’s L sized clothes and some extra-hardcore porn.”
“Have you seen the porn though?” I press the issue.
“Enough of it.” Mark responds evasively.
“Have you encountered anything like this before?” I need to know. Because I haven’t.
“Ahem.” Mark clears his throat. “Not quite like this, no.”
“...and all the good times we had. I will find you.” Lu exhales mournfully, crosses out the last line. “I will always love you and maybe Father will bring us together again.”
“He is a strange bird, that guy. His teacher.” I rub Lu’s tense, hard, scrunched shoulders, trying to get him out of a painful valley his mind is struggling in right now.
“I’ll say.” Mark responds and glances at a nice Rolex on his wrist.
I’m torn between envying his Rolex and wondering if there is anyone else coming.
Chapter 21 (1) of BEAUTIFUL PRISONER.
HILLS OF METAL
Preparing The Scene...
without knowing it yet.
Somewhere deep under the sea
Where you can no longer see,
Then through the fog, and tears, and fire
The Face Of Father will transpire.
Misty Shields in “MY GENTLE PRINCE”
Book 1. Bloody Roses Of Kloritahan
Hello everyone, Samuel of Salem on “The Channel For Those, Who Have Suffered Enough”.
Many changes are on the way.
There is a civil war on most of Andromeda as we sit here. Many sacrifices are about to be brought to the altar of peace.
General Merelion “Stitch” Of Mesmerix, Lar-Mur Constellation Of Kloritahan System, will be joined by Sardonyx Eridani Of Thermopolis Branch Of The Grehedis.
Our good old friend. Ohh... What are the chances that we WILL NOT end up dragged into this war after we vacate these feeble units?
My God, what have I gotten myself into?
Look at these hotheads. There isn’t anything his teacher would not do to get himself into yet another story. And James would follow him, trippin’ all over his old cranky self.
Something is telling me we’re NOT going straight to Father after this one.
But I must focus on James. He is the only one who has the key to the door that is holding us all here, forcing us to re-incarnate within the bubble of Level 1 instead of going back Home.
Here is what he was thinking this morning about. Ii looked into the signal to his Arkchil personal channel. I was allowed access via the highest clearance possible:
“What is the “poison of annoyance with your spouse”?
How does ego-device manage to get me to hurt H.M. by opening my mouth, because it is telling me that “he is an annoying asshole”, when I would be tickled pink to follow my teacher’s orders that were designed to be ten times as annoying.
How am I letting the ego-device to force me to hurt my Most Beloved H.M. under a ridiculous pretense of him being “annoying”?
What is “annoying” anyway?
What is this concoction of lies and poisons, energy stolen from Father, twisted into ineligible mumblings that are supposed to be fearsome, that this dumb mechanical ego-robot is trying to shove down my throat?
And why am I still scared of this pile of rubble with a tape recorder inside, if I’m already with Father?
Father is here. No more fear.”
This is what he was thinking this morning. This thought-form alone is enough to construct the key (create the solution of the right mixture) to break us out of Level 1 thinking.
How do we help him not feel alone on this?
HOW TO ALWAYS BE HAPPY
APPLY 5 Minute Hold Protocol to stabilize yourself in front of Father.
We break the day by six parts.
Father will give us strength to get through every 1/6 of my waking time. This way I do not need to think beyond the end of the “side” of the daily hexagonal plate:
23
22. 6. 7. 8
21. 8
20. 9
19. 10
18. 11
17. 12
4. 3. 2. 1
Datarmira Segment
5
6
7
Glatinel Segment
8
9
10
Dorilin Yaseremshan Segment
11
12
13
Dorilin Isvakar Segment
14
15
16
Dorilin Tisaver Segment
17
18
19
Kriagir Yaseremshan Segment
20
21
22
When feeling that you are sinking,
When experiencing “Sharp Desire” indicating the insatiable and ungrateful behaviour of ego-device.
When
This excludes real physical/health issues. Those are easily seen by Father and He takes care of that. Those are not of our concern.
LS. Dorilin Mlaste Datarmira Alaetar
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Part 2.
Chapter 11
Of complete moral bankruptcy.
The chapter in which I learn how much Lu really loves me.
Lu hands me a paper as I walk out of the shower.
“Can I get dressed first?” I ask very politely, stretching my hand past Lu to get the towel.
Lu stands on background of The Velvet Curtain, and the 8 Most Faithful, going around, changing props on the stage. His gaze is as bright as it is insane, reflecting things he sees that have nothing to do with Level 1.
As he waits for me to dry myself, Lu studies my nude body with many small passionate sighs about three seconds apart.
“Ok, what is this paper?” I wrap the towel around my waist. Who knows why. We are at Father’s. The 8 Most Faithful see me for who I really am - a liquid drop of Father, an unhinged Shard Of Oculum, His Tool.
And Lu has seen me naked every night for two and a half months now.
“A list of items to amend,
For this is coming to an end!” He proclaims with a wide smile. “I am very happy. I may be going Home soon.”
“Not before you follow through on your promise to make a REAL star out me, here on Level 1!” I huff. He comes up with a new malady every month!
“Ah!” He swings the paper in my direction, and I catch it, pulling it out of his fingers. “We can finish playing this game at Stelarius-on-the-Sea! Sardonyx promised us both equivalent of five hundred million dollars a year to join his Golden Orb Army as spies. This would be enough money to employ my poor teacher, and you, for the rest of your lives!”
“Official Magnitsky Yar Of Philippos offered me to become an Amatrix.” I open his paper and read: “The List Of Stuff to remember and do before I croak:
One. Be nice to H.M. at all times.
Two. Do what my teacher always told me to do: Stay humble and serve.
Three. Do not do what my teacher could not stand in me: Open up my mouth and let my ego go off.
Four. Take care of my Wisest Regent Samuel.
Five. Always be in touch with Father. Can we raise the frequency to two times a minute?”
I’m touched. He does want to make amends. My asshole partner will be nice to all of us for a change. Five hundred million dollars worth of change, he claims. What brought that on, anyway? What new malady he claims to be dying from now?
“Wow!” Lu can’t conceal his amazement at the work I’ve done. Actually, Father put me through with Cassiopeia, and I can’t pull off an Amatrix position without Lu and Lord Ben. Still, I’m proud to have one-upped him.
“I have a reason to believe
I don’t have very long to live!” Lu helps me dress and caresses my shoulders.
I was right about a new malady thing. He only speaks in lyrics when he is really into it. Father help us.
He is now murmuring sweet nothings into my ears, and I see abed appearing with the Velvet Curtain still seem through it as the bed, made out of Lu’s imagination energy solidifies.
“Why are you happy now? Weren’t you just done telling me that you are about to kick the bucket?
“Ah!” He exhales into my neck. “ I used to cry on a cemetery of dreams, killed by my ego. But Jesus resurrected them all!”
ALGORITHMIC IMMUNITY AND HOW TO BUILD IT AGAINST EGO-ATTACKS.
Let’s start with an example. The ego screeches out something within the lines of “What if you have cancer, and you have only 6 months left to live”. This most ridiculous statement used to send me into a fearful stupor.
Until Father supplied me the intel that I turned into a reasonable patch. Which is, needless to say, a counter-punch that turns panic into joy every time it is applied.
Watch:
1. With Father we are only and ever responsible for filling out One Hexagon A Day. To preserve our honor we fill it with Loyalty and Faithful Service. We are not responsible for anything that happens beyond One Hexagon A Day.”
2. Father says that the next 6 months will be the most magical of my life!
So, after this elegant logical double-punch the ego is stumped and will not bring up the subject again (it does not know God and it can’t see into the future). So it knows it was logically defeated.
Besides ALL THAT I can’t possibly be scared to lose something that never belonged to me - this life and this body.
Ego also knows nothing of honor (ego is essentially an instinct, and instinct is only for its own survival).
It can only count on you not knowing ANY of that.
So that you’d believe it’s lies about your “terrible future”, and get upset, as if the ego knows your future, or as if you could EVER control it. Or anyone could ever control their future.
I mean, talking about a bunched up logical fog in the head of a dog that is chasing a car. Whatchagonnado with it if you catch it? Have you thought that through when you jumped after it across three lanes of traffic?
In other words, don’t be like that poor dog. Don’t let the urges get the best of you if these urges do not pass the giggle test.
Having said that, guess what, with Father there are only and ever GOOD NEWS ABOUT MY FUTURE! For He controls it, and He loves me as His Own!
But see how the ropes that pull you out of dark precipice of desperation are pulled by the Hands Above? We can’t escape our ego without God’s help.
So, this is how we build algorithmic immunity against ego-attacks made out of misinterpretations, assumptions and outward lies. I mean, only an imbecile could believe all that ta begin with.
Ego thinks I have cancer? Well, guess what, Father says: Threaten the Sheep of Mine and you will have to deal with Me.
That’s why I turned myself to God. To avoid being beaten and frightened by “my” dumb ego.
It will keep on trying until we disassemble the entire device. Soon!
But you only do it if you’ve suffered enough.
However, your algorithmic immunity from the ego’s BS only starts where your freedom and independence from God ends. That is very important to remember.
Ok, back to Father for the recharge of mind and the dialysis of soul.
Run protocol Amatrix Dorilin Kriagir Mlaste. I really need to see both of my “heads”!
Capture the Oculum into a communicator.
Call Father!
MANDATORY 15 MINUTE HOLD TO CORRECT SDO (Severe Distraction Of Oculum) via Protocol LS Dorilin-Mlaste-Datarmira, Alaetar.
Lu exhales and writes vehemently. Then looks at me with passion: “Samuel, my man, I just want to have sex with you!”
I grin. Does he expect me to believe it? “What did you find?”
“Oh!” He rubs the palms of his hands together “Once you have isolated the sequence of a protocol, you’ve got it surrounded.”
I nod. Please explain how this cool-sounding sentence will help us NOT roll down the streets of cold and miserable City of Pity next time we are too weak to resist ego’s call to go get hurt.
And we roll in the dirt of past regrets right on the corner of “Iwasforgotten” and “Happinessiswhathappenstoothers”...
City of Pity for you. I know every street in it. Once Lu found me wandering some particular streets of that town. Something having to do with others but me always getting the best part.
He never got off my back ever since. He said, and I quote: “Don’t hold the man by his balls. It is stupid, rude and illegal! Let alone inefficient. But instead hold him by his regret. Once you know his weakness, he is not going anywhere from you.”
And I must say, I feel his grip on both. Ahem. Went down the memory lane again.
“Samuel, honestly, are you listening? One of these ego-screeches translates as “sharp desire”, and the second, shall we say, tick, that has been biting my hide ever since, sounds like this...”
I nod, remembering stuff that happened to me. I mean, Gideon Reeves. I mean... Well, regrets. Lots of them. Could not watch it for a long time.
“Sharp Desire”, get it?” Lu presses on with the vehemence of a Russian soldier getting ready to take Berlin. “And the other is “Desire to visit the City Of Pity”. Lu sighs and hugs me, grinding his hips against mine.
“So, once the “screech Of ego” comes through, we impose a Mandatory 15 Minute Hold on EVERY ACTIVITY but being with Father.
Basically this protocol is a way to cripple, or hobble the Oculum, so it can do NOTHING for the next 15 mins but be in the Presence of Father.
Subsequently, it can no longer be ordered to go where the ego wants to push it (insatiable behaviour, self-pity).
Thus we stall one ego-protocol at a time, My Love!
Let me tell you a bit more about how we got there! This protocol comes from a notion that Father brought to my attention to help me take down this Hydra of the ego once, for all, and for everyone who cares to silence the cause of all of their trouble.
The notion says that “the call of the ego, which gets picked up by you laying under the ego-machine/ this is what “sub-consciousness” means. And, in fact, it is not “sub”. It is ABOVE you, that’s why it’s tough to argue with.
So, Father says, the ego-device is programmed to release a call for you to get hurt. The call, or rather a screech, is programmed to run randomly about twenty times a day.
You, the person in this dream, receive THAT DUMB CALL from your “sub-consciousness” as a desire. So, 20 times a day, that’s at least twice an hour, you get “screeched” to get a Desire to get hurt, basically.
ALL IF OUR DESIRES ARE ACTUALLY THE CALL OF OUR EGO TO GET HURT, unless it is a Desire To Be With God.
So, the ego releases this little stupid screech, I heard it on Level 2. It releases a screech, which for your poor mind on Level 2 means “follow this order”. So your Level 2 mind converts it into a “desire” for you.
“Sharp Desire to get something” is a call of an insatiable, ungrateful ego.
That’s why we do not give in. Now we also know HOW NOT TO GIVE IN. Via the “Mandatory 15 Minute Hold”.
Desire to visit the “City Of Pity” is how you receive an already re-broadcasted from your body/mind on Level 2 order to get hurt, basically. What do you do? You look back down the Memory Lane. A sure bet to get up the City Of Pity! There’s got to be something that makes you miserable, angry or resentful in the past! And a pig will always find dirt.
But you are not a pig, and you do not need to find yourself drenched and soaked in hatred and resentment. Even if you look into the future, the roads in the City Of Pity made exclusively out of that “material”.
How do we NOT roll down this disgraceful way of behaviour?
FIRST: Contain your Oculum via your current communicator, and
Protocol
Datarmira................Alaetar
Dorilin.......................................Mlaste
SECOND: Call Father on your current communicator.
THIRD. Remember that you WANT to be happy, and you KNOW HOW to be happy. This is a dream, Father is here, health is NOT a reason to be upset. So, let’s get happy instead of following the screeches of the ego.
How do we achieve that?
Via our famous formula of a Triangle: Whatever you pay attention to - Therefore validate its existence - Will have power over you. So, the Only One whom you should pay attention to is FATHER. For He should be the Only One to have power over you. Done.
FOURTH. Run Amatrix Dorilin-Kriagir-Mlaste Protocol.
This one mandates all three current “heads” of Amatrix to be present and conferring.
“No.” I interrupt. “Third position mandates YOU to confer with your Junior and Senior heads. Currently that’s me and Lord Ben.”
Lu nods and continues:
“FIFTH: Run Protocol LS Dorilin-Mlaste-Datarmira-Alaetar. And by then 15 min is up and you will have avoided responding to the ego-screech by forming a desire to inject self-pity and fear alike.
We simply want to be HAPPY, so we follow the protocols for that, and we disregard protocols that drag us down.”
“Genius!” I did not get all of it, but fuck it, I’ll hear it again a thousand more times. Why don’t we get drunk and screw?
This has been recorded:
One. Ego is loud. The Last Mask programmed the ego to guide him after he “was born” on lower levels (as his body is laying drunk under the ego-doll dictating what to do, instructing the poor befuddled drunk Oculum. Which is now you. Every single one of us. Deeply asleep, thinking that you are a “person”.
A shard of shattered Father, driven away by mechanical pre-programmed ego-doll... that’s what you are.
So, the Last Mask wanted his dumb dreams of his own voice and his own opinion to be heard.
So he programmed the ego to guide him when he “woke up” in a body on a certain Level (Level 1 for us here).
This has not been recorded yet:
Two. Ego makes you go back to recent event and sort through them (look at them on your inner screen by your “mind’s” eye, which is Oculum, you)
You can’t get enough of yourself no matter what.
If you were hurt, that’s the holiday for the ego. It lives to collect all negative stuff to make it look like it was AGAINST YOU. It feeds you such lies, or half-truths, for it was programmed by the Last Mask to keep you pissed.
It is to keep you pissed against God, but as the ego erases the last notion of God in the lives of so many nowadays, it defeats the purpose of its programming, and you eventually forget about God.
Then, not only is there no one to ask for help, but there is also no one to blame.
But “your” ego carries on with its brainwashing you - all situations misinterpreted to keep you look like a victim. To keep you pissed. So, first it was God, then it is “those who did this to me”, but then, later, as your DeVo progresses, it’s just “pissed”. Anger has some explosive qualities to it. It can turn a human into an animal in an instant. You tell me that we don’t use magic every day. We just don’t call it that, and it works to befuddle us, keep us covered by wool.
Ok, let’s explore that poison of anger a bit more. Some people manage to be such good slaves to “their” ego, that they are always pissed, maintain a thin veneer of normalcy and human appearance, but underneath they are all a hot-lava gurgling volcano. And it takes to push them just a tad, if only accidentally, for them to explode.
So, that’s how they do it. Or, rather, mindlessly follow the orders of the devil inside of their head, basically. I used to be one of those people, so I can speak for them passionately, all day long. I used to be just as asleep, just as befuddled about WHO WAS REALLY CAUSING ME ALL THIS PAIN?
I was going to find, and rip the bangs off the one who was causing me all this pain. Ego told me it was God. I honestly had suspicions it had something to do with me being such a piece of shit.
Well, 33 years of non-stop research later I had proven the ego wrong. And I was partially right on my suspicions.
As we come back to ego-tactics, the ego plays the recent events in your mind.
If you were recently hurt (or in any other negative setting), then see above. We covered some of that. But if something positive had happened to you, the ego makes you go through that memory with a fine comb to see if you can find ANYTHING insulting, anything hurtful. Mine made me do that. Remember, that the ego is a machine, that is PROGRAMMED INCORRECTLY ON PURPOSE to drive you away from God. It is a conspiracy, and it is a bad, unfair setup to take away from you THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE from your life.
So, depending on how strong you are, you will have different settings of the ego in terms of how mean it can get towards you.
“My” ego has some pretty high settings, so it would also say about EVERY SINGLE VICTORY I ever cherished: Go back into the memory and don’t come back until you bring me something negative!”
In other words the ego is set to “build a case against Father.” In terms of Him being an “unfit parent”. This garbage plan hurts both me and Father even as I’m writing it after turning myself in, and after Father has been working on melting “my” ego for three years now.
How can you say that Father is an unfit Parent? We were never hurt with Him! But always happy and taken care of.
Ego hurts us INTENTIONALLY.
“Your” ego hurts you intentionally EVERY DAY.
Would you like to know how? By misinterpreting the events and news for you as per the meat-mincer of algorithms and prisms, through which it “sends” the memory of the event, and then feeds you not the TRUTH about an event, but the mangled mambo-jumbo of “your” precious ego-Interpretation.
Mine usually hurt like bloody hell, and sounded like this: “At this {expletive} event no one paid attention to me, everyone thought Jenny was the frigging Queen if the Universe, and no one cared about what I had to say.”
I believed that. I stopped coming to events, for I could not find satisfaction for my ego there. Fuck, I still believe that. But anyway.
The conclusion is: we hurt not because of events, or people that hurt us, but BECAUSE WE HAND OUR MIND (Oculum, God’s Stradivari Violin) to the ego.
Now, supposedly both me AND my father went to the same event (family gathering or what). I came back with memories so negative I wanted to kill myself.
My Dad would try to console me by saying that he did not find anything that happened to be all that offensive. My Fad was rather detached from his ego-protocols. He was mostly peaceful as far as the everyday ego-indoctrination is concerned.
But my Mom and me listened to our internal ego-radio avidly. It was bad. It still is. I still collapse into monthly pits of epsilons. Lirda blues - Lirda shmlues. Three years of cleansing, all my questions were answered, and all my wounds had been healed.
Still I have balls to be “afraid to die of cancer”. Honestly, my man. Please tell me three things that had gone wrong with that one sentence!
Ok, that and a LARGE PATCH. We need a PROTOCOL OF GRATITUDE so that when we run it, it worked like a clock!
This has been recorded:
Another tactic of the Last Mask is connected to wanting to be heard. That is why, when you allow ego to control the contents of your mind, it pushes you to squeeze out EVERYTHING you know on the subject, for this is how the Last Mask programmed it.
Basically, it is the hand that fell asleep and is imagining that it is a separate being from the rest of the body, and every time the Head says something, the ego blocks the hand from hearing THE RIGHT THING TO DO, and the dumb hand goes off expressing its opinion on how it does not want to be washed now, and then it does not want to be used for cooking (it would rather do beadwork now!).
But it is dinner time. You need to wash your hands, so you could cook for your family, so your family would not starve!
But the hand does not care about the rest of your body! Let alone about the family! It is now independent! Thank you, ego! I’m now an independent state from the rest of the Body! I do not have to follow the Body’s Rules anymore, I do not even hear the order of the Head (thank you, ego-device, for distracting me from the Voice Of God!).
I don’t need to wash (we just about discarded daily Spiritual cleansing in our life!)
See how ridiculous our “revolution” against the will of God is? It is a fit of an angry child. A spoiled brat not wanting to follow House Rules.
WINTER MEMORANDUM (Spiritual Diamonds):
“One. Father says always: No one should get hurt.
Two. Avoid conflict at all times and at all costs.
Three. Serve the one you love to be happy.”
He nods to me in a satisfactory way.
“We got these down. Now on polishing this Diamond:
Four: Future hexagons - ego knows nothing, but dares to tell you that your future is fucked up because of what is happening now? ( this pain in your body is 10% fact and then it urges you to give you 90% of your faith that this is the beginning of the end).
You are being had by a machine! So, this rule prevents your ass from following the ego’s advice to paint the many hexagonal plates of the future in black, because you feel like crap RIGHT NOW. I hate to break it to you, but this is not how it works.
Patches:
Dorilin-Mlaste-Datarmira-Alaetar protocol:
1-3-6-9 patch/protocol allows to slow down verbal diarrhea.
This crippling patch must help with every issue that comes from saying more than one word at a time (not shutting up in time). It cripples your ability to let “your” ego control your mouth. It helps against “your” ego when it pushes you to speak fast, regardless of reason.
Only speak in batches of 1-3-6-9 words at a time. Measure them carefully. Say that, and pause. While pausing, ask Father if you can start putting together another batch.
It is also a great way of not letting “your” ego push you down a slippery path of passionately trying to explain something that H.M. will misunderstand as a negative comment, will say so, you will be deeply hurt that he did not understand, and you are in the middle of a fight again. All the heartache is easily avoidable by not saying anything ta begin with.
These words that you choose are also POSITIVE AND ENCOURAGING at all times.
So, in other words, 1-3-6-9 protocol is meant to be a filter that prevents “your” ego from pushing you to say hurtful things.
You are allowed to pick one-three-six-nine positive words that can be a praise, a reminder of something good H.M. did in the past, or things sexy and playful in its nature.
Now we have a shield that will protect H.M. from “your” ever-seeking-to-hurt ego.”
Lu takes a break from figuring out the all-binding WINTER MEMORANDUM.
“Now I need to squeeze all these paragraphs into ONE COHESIVE ARTICLE that could be used to patch this leak.”
Can you patch the river of tears in my heart after you terminated my show yesterday?
Only I do not say it. Because I’m bigger than this.
Or, at least, I’m trying.
Lu carries on, in a darker tone: “I thought we survived this Lirda blues. But here it is, Alanira Kils, the first day of Moon Calendar “spring”, and I’m shedding my grace like a werewolf his human appearance.”
“Right. Me too.” I’m sincere. But he is not listening to me. He switched to “his” ego’s radio, and now it’s down the hill and all the way to the river bend for my good ‘ol partner here.
“Instead of being helpful and encouraging, instead of doing my service and coining a Hexagon Of Honor a day for a chance to save my teacher, I feel like I need to die!” Lu sits on the floor, and stares at a distance.
“I need to die so much, Samuel. I feel like I no longer have the strength to take another breath, let alone live another day. I feel like there are not enough drugs in the world to keep me numb enough. And I have to perform my duties here for another, possibly, 20 years.”
Then he lays on the floor in an uncomfortable crunched position that makes him look even more miserable, and cries for two and a half hours without stopping even for a minute.
Yes, I actually timed him. Recently I started timing his crying marathons. I find it remarkable that a person would have the capacity of crying inconsolably for so many hours on end.
You’d think there would be some health risks to that in small print or something.
I sit by patiently through the names he exclaims, and claims he names, and indiscernible sobs.
Two and a half hours later he is nowhere near done. Here he is laying on the floor with his nose buried inside of the sack with his teacher’s meager, stinky possessions, howling about some really pathetic crap that happened to him in 1979.
There’s got to be a legal limit on how deep you are allowed to dig for grudges.
On Level 1 he is still in the tub after datarmira. H.M. comes in and finishes my Lu off by saying that he is going to get a week vacation in Mexico.
Hot in the tub, Lu manages to go snow white. He mutters “ruwarb”, and “I must book a trip to Jamaica if I care to remain sane”.
I touch him by his shoulder and inform him that he is not only out of grace, but also out of time.
“Every breath I take, every passing minute here without Father leaves me in as much pain as a fish out of water. Only the fucker dies soon, and I’m looking at 365 hexagons times 20. Minimum 20, Samuel...”
This was a direct violation of his #4 Of WINTER MEMORANDUM.
He knows it, he agonized over it. He just can’t stop.
And I can’t pull him out by myself.
I also have had enough of this ridiculous itty-bitty self-pity committee. I’m calling Father.
Melekh comes to us, where I’m at the end of my wits with my charge, and my charge is covered in mental vomit made of shreds of past grudges and future demands.
“He is writhing in pain.” I state the obvious.
I, for a change, would also like some nice down time for me to writhe in some pain too. Two days ago he terminated my show AGAIN. It hurt just as bad as the first time. I feel like a dog thrown out of the house, and I miss seeing him on my show.
And I wish I could get him to change his mind. I also feel that I got donkey-punched and left for dead, and I believe I did nothing to deserve it. He still wants to be friends. He just does not want to see my shows.
“If it is not physical, then just shake it off.” Melekh says, touching Lu’s feverish forehead. “He listened to “his” ego-radio, he got poisoned, and we will get over it.”
I thank Him for diagnosing the man I really care about.
Lu gets up slowly, and we continue unpacking hexagons with information to create WINTER MEMORANDUM.
Lu works on PRINCIPLES, while I think of him, and of the fact that he is not coming to my show today.
After he took my show off his air, he said that it was for good, and warned me not to raise the issue again.
But I did. For I had nothing to lose.m. I cried, and I groveled, and I begged him, and he said “OK, once a week on Sundays, after 9 pm, so I could go to sleep right after it.”
Why so late, I said. I felt like he tucked me all the way to the end of the week, and to the last possible waking hour of the last day of the week.
If we watch it any earlier, he explained, I get fucked for the rest of the day. I did not seclude myself here, away from all the drama so that I’d let fictional characters knock me out of the internal emotional balance that takes me so much to achieve.”
And he was unapologetic. He was passed that he had to suffer through two seasons of my show.
I, however, should have been grateful that I made him watch more material than anyone before me.
But I was far from grateful. I stood there, swallowing my tears.
I was warned by everyone that he does that to everyone. He dared to say it to his teacher consistently about his every show.
But somehow I believed that this goblet of desperation will never touch my lips.
Good grief, Lucy. He makes me drink it every day.
And then he has the balls to cry for two and a half hours in front of me.
THREE HOURS LATER...
Lu, having recovered from his fit, goes after the articles of WINTER MEMORANDUM:
“OK, let’s add an Article that goes something like this:
It is unlawful to drink the poison concocted from past grudges. Your chance of sinking your “Sensor” into the sickening mud of the ego-programming is 98%.
Your “Sensor” must firmly remain on the Foundation Of Father Everpresent.”
He turns to me. “How is that?”
He is only asking for my advice because he feels guilty about his almost three-hour long fit.
“It is...” I look for a word, and can’t find it. We can’t be negative, and he is trying, but if he is found for 2 weeks in a foreign land without his medicine, no WINTER MEMORANDUM will stop him from a bloodbath of a depression.
“This Article looks like a kid who came with his little bucket of sand to dam a river the size of Mississippi. I mean, good effort, and all.”
He pouts only for a few minutes before going back to digging through Maestro’s possessions.
HILLS OF METAL
I Wanted Him To Love Me
Part 2
Lu sits there, admiring me. I sit here, admiring myself. While we both should be admiring Melekh.
But He is patient with us.
When done admiring me, Lu goes through his teacher’s possessions. It’s mostly unused ticket slips for alcohol and cigarettes, and pounds of heavy, thick colorful magazines of hardcore gay BDSM porn. That and his notes on what to say to Lu. He wrote that down when Father dictated it to him.
I know. I dug in those possessions, too. Even took stuff.
Melekh comes from the Velvet Curtain and I gain confidence, and I warm up just knowing that we are already IN HIS PRESENCE. We have nothing else left to fear. Suffering will eventually end, even if it means to shed your body.
Our body ends, but our soul does not!
Melekh, smiling and nodding to me: “Samuel, set it up. Lu, get to work! Today’s topic is :
“INSTRUCTIONS ON PREVENTING THE SPREADING OF WHITE FIRE ACROSS YOUR WHOLE SOUL AND FUTURE HEXAGONALS.”
We work on that for 12 hours straight, converting files into what would become the Doctrine, using the precious time while H.M. is in D.
Then night comes mercifully, and we fall asleep, while I hold on to Lu, and Lu holds on to the sack with Maestro’s possessions.
Mornings are the toughest. Especially as it is Lirda K.S. of the Moon Cycle. We were finally forced to accept as reality, that the Moon cycle influences us greatly.
I mean, we tried ignoring winter, we tried screaming at it, we even tried hitting it with a hammer, but we froze and starved anyway. So, this year we finally decided to PREPARE for the winter of the soul, which gaining full moon is.
Lu is not well because the Moon Cycle gets him in every form, including the form of phantom pains all over his body. They are non-existent, but very real to him. Lu coughs, wheezes and complains of chest pains.
But we continue broadcasting for a couple more hours anyway.
Then Lu holds on to his throat, and, after a while, to his chest, as if he can’t take it anymore: “Samuel, can you move the transmitter for St. Merelion Broadcasting a tad into the stream. Thank you. I will work until I collapse from a heart attack, or whatever it is.”
He takes a jagged breath, grabs on to his chest over and over, and cringes in pain: “I can literally feel the palpitations in my heart. It hurts like hell. Let’s run it again beginning with “White Flames Of Fear that lick our soul is a result of an incorrectly assembled logical chain.”
But a few more minutes later he breaks down, falls to his knees by the Velvet Curtain and sobs. He sobs for so long that I get tired of holding St.Merelion’s transmitter.
A lot had happened on Andromeda since Lu was there as tender Estelian navigator named Lasse. Good ol’ doc Merelion was finally martyred by Gina Yasmin. Fast forward 300 000 years. Gina Yasmin commits suicide, forced by public opinion and ghosts of Kloritahan to cleanse Bruno’s blood by hers.
Not long after this, not even another 100 000 years later, the Kumlatov Branch Of Sheiredis finally overwhelms the Grehedi-run order of things on Andromeda, and gets in the position to threaten Leot himself.
Lu is still crying, now into his teacher’s old dirty t-shirt that he pulled from the sack. He repeats “not fear, but honor” many times. Then, “not grief, but immortality”.
Sometimes I feel that we are going to drown in grief. But I do not feel the immortality. Not yet.
And why? I’m immortal. Maestro is immortal. My miserable Lu is immortal. His Majesty will soon be surprised to learn that he, too, is immortal.
Because Father is immortal. And He will take care of us in the best of ways. We don’t have to be sad and hurting. That state is an illusion.
However right now Lu is crunched on the floor in fetal position, holding on to his left side, breathing heavily, moans he’s got chest pain from hell.
It is also an illusion, that happened to him already before. An emergency visit later they found nothing but a panic attack.
Now, every time it happens again, Lu can’t distinguish the difference. That’s why i’m not calling anywhere. His panic attacks mimic every medical condition known and unknown to humanity.
He was in an emergency twice with pain in his eyes that lasted for days, so much so he thought he was going blind. Doctors found nothing.
That’s just the episodes that were so publicized that he can’t deny them anymore. The rest I’m not allowed to talk about. Lu does not care to look any more embarrassing with his mental breakdowns than is already evident.
He is fully aware of how he looks. He looks like someone who always wants to attract attention with made-up physical conditions.
Only right now he is sobbing in pain and desperation. His “chest pain” is so great and long-lasting, that he is used to the “I’m dying soon” state of mind.
He swore never to create any more disturbance for his family, so he is not calling anywhere. He is not going to any more doctors, he says. He will carry on, and let whatever comes hit him.
No medical condition, or lack thereof will prevent him from keeping his honor intact, he says, holding to his heart with his right hand while laying on the floor with his head thrown back, tears pooling in his eyes.
“I must do what my teacher told me to do!” He whispers hoarsely, while searching my face, possibly for mercy. Father beat me to that! His Mercy will pay for whatever Lu needs not to be in pain.
“I will love...” He takes a few jagged breaths. “I will love His Majesty to my last day, then we find him someone else, just as loyal. H.M. will screen them himself. Then trial period and pre-nup should do the rest.”
I listen to him as he rolls on the floor, crying, blowing his nose into a crumpled napkin, and smearing tears all across his face, waiting for him to pull himself together. Which he will do eventually.
I pull a neatly folded piece of paper out of my pocket. I found it in Maestro’s porn. I kept it, although the right thing to do is not to steal the stuff that is not yours. I mean, hello.
But here it is. I unfold it and focus my eyes from my struggling partner on the floor to the text. It says:
“We are immortal servants of God, therefore our patience must match that of an immortal servant of God.
We are immortal servants of God, therefore our honor must match that of an immortal servant of God.
We are immortal servants of God, therefore our love must match that of an immortal servant of God.
Suffering will end with your body.
Honor will continue with your soul.”
I shiver, I think about it, and I agree with these statements. We just need Father’s Mercy and support that transcends the time-space continuum. Once we get that, we can follow through with becoming the best and the strongest for Him.
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Part 2
Samuel sets up the recording devices.
“Ok, Lu, we are ready, start channeling Father. And don’t stray away!”
“Don’t stray away, got it!” Lu clears his throat, and then drowns in a bout of cough: Sorry, “my” ego says I’m going to die of throat cancer because I smoke too much, and I can’t seem to disable the darned protocol.”
“Ok, what about “don’t stray away” did you not understand?” Samuel makes a motion in the air with his palm, urging Lu to get on with the program.
“Got it, I got it!” Lu nods and gets back to the script, but then leans away from the topic again. “The funniest thing is how twisted this program is. First it pushes you into a suicide by being so negative, and then it tries to get you to panic by saying that you are going to get cancer. Logic escapes both the poor robot and its creator. The latter would clearly be someone who was not thinking through with his actions!”
Lu winks into the camera, while Samuel makes an unhappy face and shakes his head.
Lu gets the message.
“Anyway, Father decides when we are to be awakened (not “die”). I’m not going to let the already figured out device to continue to befuddle me. It lays here by my feet as I stand awakened on Level 2.”
Lu inhales a lungful of air with a blissful expression on his face.
“I should be happy if the ego is right about me dying in 6 months from throat cancer! It is so good in here! Right outside of “pressure cooker” of Level 1, Sodom & Gomorrah, and it already smells like roses from the Eden Garden! And all I had to do was get out of the stuffy room full of tired, sick, unhappy people.
But back to business. Today’s lecture is “Happiness and Love: Good stuff that happens to other people.”
What a sad topic. I asked people around. What is happiness to your opinion?
God gives us happiness, but the ego instructs us how to destroy it.
God gives us love, but the ego forces us to strangle it.
But how?!
Here is how.
IN THE BEGINNING...
God gives us loving parents.
Side note: I promise you peoplethat we will talk about “non-loving parents” extensively in other chapters. I know how you feel if you think that God gave you shitty parents. Soon, before I expire from whatever the ego says I have (it knows!! :), I will tell you what God told me, if you think you were dealt a bad parent. “God gave me shitty parents” is a wrong entry, incorrect protocol and a harmful illusion. Same with “I was dealt a bad hand in life”
Ok, see how much air we need to clear before I expire and your ego grows bored.... So many old wounds, unanswered questions, entangled attitudes. (laughs quietly to himself, and catches the stern glance of Samuel.)
Lu nods towards him.
“Ahem, my manager wants me to stick to the point.
So, God gives us loving parents. Yes, most of them try their best to be the best parents they know how.
But WE are not always good children...
God gives us a spouse/significant other who love us. In the beginning, at least it seems so. None of you were forced into a marriage. Raise your hand those who had a gun to their head signing that marriage license in front of that nice lady clerk at a county court. Thank you, people.
So, why do we fight with our parents? By the time we decide that we must fight them for something, happiness is long gone from our relationship with them.
Unfortunately, it happened to me way too early. By the age of 7 I had no respect for my mother. I thought I knew better and I fought her bitterly on EVERYTHING.
Ok, roll that back a tad. What did I say? I fought my mother because I had no respect for her.
So, the ego is programmed to break you away from everyone.
How? First it works your mind to show you that THIS PERSON is lame, stupid, and you deserve better.
In order to turn you away from anyone, be that your parents, children, spouse, it first needs to ERODE YOUR RESPECT for them.
Once that nourishing protocol is chiseled away (you know not what you are doing when you chisel it away under “your” ego’s instruction), the ego is free to order you to kick that person as hard as you can, and get away with it.
Once you agree with “your” ego that this person no longer deserves your respect (why? How could you send your parents to the gallows?), then the ego is ready to find a reason for you to attack that person, and not even be aware of it.
This is how fights start and never end. You are ready to continue attacking what should be your most beloved mother/daughter. There is only one protocol of attack. And you can only attack the one who does not have your protective RESPECT cloak on.
When you firmly respect someone, you do not give your ego a right to attack and hurt them. The only time you feel that you have a right to attack and hurt your closest is when “your” ego worked your mind to get you to rip the magic protective cloak of RESPECT from them.
The magic cloak is off, and this person is now completely unprotected in front of you. Naked, if you will. And you hurt them exactly as “your” ego instructs you.
Let’s move on to seeing how the ego instructs us how to destroy happiness and love throughout our entire life.
Now you are old enough to get married/get a significant other.
Nowadays it seems that we are not in a relationship with any one significant other, but, rather in a dance where participants do steps with one partner, then move on to the next, while your former partner also moves on to someone else.... after a while you might get back with your previous partner, do some steps, do some drugs. :), and move on again.
Why?
If we look inside of our soul, we will see something your ego never lets you see. The chain of conclusions (NOT events, or their “screw-ups”) that led you to allow your love and respect for that person to be eroded.
Ok, forget happiness with your parents when you are 14. It is indeed a separate lecture. I can dance to the beat of these conclusions.
NOW I know what I was supposed to do at 14 when everything my mother said to me sounded stupid and totally out of line of my beliefs. How could I respect that woman? How could we even be related after an ugly fight we just had?
(All the while my poor mother thinks exactly the same about me).
Anyway, there is a way of behaviour that allows you to reach your adulthood without becoming enemies with your parents, AND keep your beliefs, AND act on them later no matter what your parents think of your unhinged bf.
You must have enough respect for your parents to PRETEND to do what they say.
You ALWAYS act polite.
You do what needs to be done quietly towards your goals.
If you are 13 and you are gay and you are into martial arts, but your parents want you to be a doctor and marry a woman, then you go stealth until you are 18.
Your goal is to keep peace. Basically, your task is to maintain the Main Condition Of Father: NO ONE SHOULD GET HURT.
Then you do everything your parents tell you to do, and you excel in the crap they think you need.
Under the thick cloak of “No One Should Get Hurt” you date your boy and you stand your ground in martial arts. Both secretly from your parents, if that’s what you must do for your dreams.
Remember: You must keep your parents wrapped in the Magic Cloak of your respect. This arrangement will guarantee that the mad dog of your ego is not going to hurt your parents by barking stuff when you should be washing their feet and drinking the water.
You do not agree with them, but you walk the walk with honor, because your parents spent decades denying themselves so they can take care of your sore ass.
And when you are 18, you marry your boy, and you win in tournaments for your martial arts school, and you never forget about your parents, and you support them financially for all they did for you.
You politely and diplomatically avoid any mention of {whatever your disagreement with your parents was.. I brought up homosexuality and martial arts, because both sounded equally horrifying to my parents. And I happened to be both through and through... :) )
You never planned to become a doctor, or marry a woman, but (since you have accepted this Doctrine at, say, 13), you had a good decade there of being the best child any parent could ever want. Polite, diplomatic, never a bad word, always acting like a hero.
And doing all that for the rest of their life, because you did disappoint them in your life’s choice. So, this is a way to make it up to your parents while not betraying your dreams and who you really are.
And hey, maybe after all you come to see them, and find them watching “Imitation Game”. And you’d be like: Thank you, Lord, maybe it’s time to introduce David!
But you will never get into these dreamy, peaceful waters if you listen to your ego’s advice.
For ego not just to disappoint your parents in your life’s choices, but also act as an asshole in the interim.
However, the mechanical doll laying over here by my feet with some stinky liquid oozing out of its mouth, and screws and springs scattered all around it. The machine that was programmed by an angry, unwise and wayward 3 year old.
This stupid pile of metal will never tell you one very important thing. It fact, it is meant to omit ALL IMPORTANT THINGS. It is meant to ignore God’s most fundamental Laws. That’s why we are so screwed here. Because each of us listens to THIS, and not the Loving Father.
So, this here device you rely on so much, will not tell you that
KARMIC DEBTS ARE NOT DISCHARGEABLE IN MORAL BANKRUPTCY.
Upsetting your parents is a debt that is not dischargeable in ANY bankruptcy. You upset your parents, you will have to pay for it. So, better not upset.
But what about my dreams? My parents do not support my dreams...
There is a way! I never meant for you to be a doormat about your dreams.
Realize that your life’s choices are not up for discussion.
But also being an asshole is not up for discussion.
To be a good child sometimes takes superb diplomatic and acting skills. If you fail to be a “decent human being” in the eyes of your parents, you can always ACT like what they think a “decent human being” should be.
Being a good child is not the hardest part of life. You can act through it, while pleasing your parents with wads of cash.
After a while they will no longer care that you are a gay martial artist who is NOT a doctor. As long as you bow to them and pay their mortgage and living expenses, they should not care if you live with Bigfoot.
However, the balance with the love of your life is something no polite diplomacy can help. Imagine actually living with that aforementioned Bigfoot. Ahem...
Polite diplomacy and acting skills only go so far. If there is no love, your marriage/partnership is a torture chamber.
If diplomacy and acting skills in partnership was all I was advocating for, scores of actors and diplomats out there can one up me any day of the week in their professional skills to pretend and act for a living.
But it is not love. At least we hope that’s not what love is supposed to be.
You don’t need my advice to paint the good ol’ torture chamber a different color.
We’re talking about actually getting out of the torture chamber and beginning to enjoy life with your partner.
I’m talking about Real Love, and I will show you where to find it. Or rather, how to obtain it.
via Black Hexagon of United Wells
HOW DOES THE EGO MANAGE TO GET US TO INJECT OURSELVES WITH FEAR:
(And why what it says makes no darned sense):
It lines up the images of a possible bad event (catastrophe in your personal life, other negative stuff) it says will happen to you in the future.
That is a violation in itself, because you are not supposed to accept any messages (images, whisperings) from any other source but Father.
That aside, every frame with “worsening conditions” it shows you... forcing your hand to inject fear into your drunk, lifeless body that is laying right under the mechanical doll with some stinky liquid oozing out of its mouth, let’s keep this picture in our collective mind. THIS is what we submit to instead of Loving Alive Father.
That aside, too (how many Commandments can you break in one day? “Van Helsing”. :) every frame with the “worsening conditions” it shows you is NOT MEANT to be in THIS ORDER of images. The ego-program consistently omits Father’s Interference between all these ominous images ego says will be your future.
In the order it shows the images to you it violates Father’s Main Law: No one should get hurt.
I know you might be laughing now, for you know plenty that did get hurt in every way possible, and I’m telling you that the amount of your hurt is directly connected to how far (or how close) you are to God in your heart.
If you are NEXT TO HIM all the time, like a trusting child with Jesus, then should you get hurt, He will take care of you.
And if you have deleted Father from your reality, and should you get hurt, you are on your own, just like the ego needs you so it could torment you in separation from Father.
Here is an example:
Ego tries to persuade you that you have some physical illness, which will cause to spend a lot of money and time on doctors’ appointments.
Next frame in this pre-fabricated line of images: you suffer in bed.
Next image: Your spouse cries alone in your bed after your death.
Insert your recurring nightmare scenario. Ego’s job is to run this in everyone’s head.
Ego will never tell you that it creates a line of framed images much like a director of a movie. Whatever the director wants you to believe, these would be the images.
Had you not known that this was fiction you just watched, you’d be completely convinced that all these people suffered just like was shown, or, conversely, received the awards and accolades as was shown in the movie.
This is what the ego-device’s “line of images” is worth. It is fabricated via a pre-programmed algorithm to bring down your heart. To get you to inject the poison of fear into your veins. Then, after you are suffering from fear-poisoning, it is much easier to talk you into injecting desperation, resentment, anger...
And so you dance to the tune of the Last Mask (the recalcitrant 3 year old), while eating up the ego-lies about “being free from God”. Right, it is better to be a tormented slave of the ego, as opposed to a Cherished Child Of God...
Please tell me that you have suffered enough from that thing. I have.
I wish I knew all this 40 years ago. I have hurt so many people, including, but not limited to my family. All because I was listening to “my ego” radio. And that radio will never tell you about respect for your parents and love for your spouse. The wrong kind of radio. All it instructed me was how to serve ME. And not even me as a person, but that ego-program within. Or, rather, above me as I lay there trashed...
WHAT IS THE GOAL OF THIS DOCTRINE?
Ultimately the goal of the Doctrine is the same as “A Course In Miracles”: To turn your bad dreams into good ones before your inevitable Awakening.
How the heck to we do that?
We slow down our life until only the problems that Father can fix are left.
(We look for ways to “get off the carousel of life, yes)
For me, it’s just health.
But generally it boils down to your basic needs: shelter, food, medical care for you and yours. That’s where you find room to have a Relationship with God: by removing all non-essential activities and components out of your life.
The “carousel of life” is indeed the source of all of your pain, because pieces of the puzzle that used to be Me and Father ( our Family pic) is now cut into thousand pieces, mixed with poisonous images.
In order to carry on with Peace and Love you first need to hand yourself to Father, so He can fix your mangled “internal puzzle” back into the Family Picture Of Non-conflict and Rapture, all that we forget during the reign of the dumb ego-machine.
SENCI Broadcasting & Archives: “One Standard Unit of Communication” is the time it takes for your prayers to be answered by Father in non-emergency situations.”
Level 1 world Standard Unit on Earth is about 10 days.
Rainy Forest 20 min
We might and might not lose our hide in that forest, but it does not matter.
Father ALREADY KNOWS where we are going.
It is not unexpected to Him.
He is protecting us like we protect our body parts. That’s how much He loves us.
Ego is blind and programmed to make a mountain out of a mole hill. It must get you to take poisons of fear, desperation, to create a sense of being completely alone in facing your problems. This is what the Last Mask wanted. So, do not listen to it, we know we were the Last dumb Mask. Enough of listening to it’s incorrect, twisted protocols.
Learn to listen to Father’s soothing Voice instead. You are dreaming a bad dream, because you are listening to the voice of a mechanical doll with some smelly oily liquid oozing out of its mouth, screws and springs scattered everywhere.
Whew. This is what going through the “rainy forest is all about. Not listening to THAT.
Father knows everything. He had prepared a path for us.
Leading us out Sodom & Gomorrah.
He still tries to lead every single person on Earth, out of pain and into rapture, but if we consciously give ourselves to Father, and spend time with Him, developing a Relationship, we are way more protected than those who choose to navigate the dark woods while blind, refusing the Help Of The Loving Hand.
It’s not the death, but dying, that we fear. The pain. Heart palpitations, back pains... What’s wrong with me? Right? Life’s issues, fear, anxiety, ohh...
What the faithful do, is we let go, and let Father deal with it.
The faithful live every day, knowing that He is watching us lovingly, and He will reward us, if we lived this day in love, peace and service.
We love, and we serve with even more passion if we think we are not going to make it through the Rainy Forest.
We, then, make each day of our life a Monument To Love.
We want to be loyal, faithful, accepting.
And no, there are no sinners that He will punish. This is where the Christian Faith took the wrong turn. And Father explains how. Instead of looking at others with the eyes of Jesus, we look at others through the distorted prisms of the ego.
That’s where sinners come from, not from any postulates of Father’s Doctrine. Ever. Let’s put this to bed once and for all. There is no good Jenny and bad Johnny.
There is good Jenny and sick Johnny. Johnny has cancer. Doctor gives him pills that make Johnny throw up. It is not punishment, it is healing.
Or, rather, it is only healing if Johnny turns himself in to Jesus. You can’t help the cancer of wrong thinking, and you need a Doctor.
You will feel 100% better at the end, but there will be a few years of throwing up there. Until we expel the disease of the ego. Our habit on relying on its warped judgement. Only God can help us melt away the ego-frost of the soul.
Ok, smartass, all this is cool talk we have heard before. What do you do when depression, anxiety, and aches and pain take the best of you and don’t give it back?
This is where our ego is most vicious. It can’t create issues for you physically. But it never misses an opportunity to misinterpret the issues that come up.
It is programmed to force your hand to shoot that solution of fear into your veins.
You listen to the ego, and your life’s problems WILL get out of control. Why? You just yielded to your ego’s staged panic, and took a huge gulp of desperation, that’s why.
What do we do instead?
This is where Relationship with God comes handy.
We ask Father for His Protection, and His Mercy. He gives it to us in many miraculous ways. We drink THAT instead of fear.
This is what gets us through the Rainy Forest without having to rely on the ego-judgement, which is only and ever preprogrammed to make us take a poison of wrong thinking. More than one poison at once if you happen to be a victim of an overactive ego.
Father is with us at all times.
He is the One who’s been taking care of you THIS ENTIRE TIME.
He wants His Stradivari violin away from the hurtful, damaging reach of the ego-device, and back into His loving, caring Hands.
That is all He wants. He wants you to open the door of your soul, and invite Him in, so He could fix every problem of your life, all the anxiety of your tormented soul, and every ache and pain of your body.
We are with Father.
We have always been with Father. We will always be with Father.
But this channel is only for those who have suffered enough.
Credits roll.
Lu74: My Regent, I hope you have your ass ready for me... to kiss.
SamSalem: I do, my Prince. To kiss, or do anything you want with. To illustrate the point I showed it to you more than once in the last 36 hrs.
Lu74: Ohhh... Yeah.... (touching himself under the table). Done with this lecture. Let’s play, then. My Regent’s ass I can’t resist.
PATCHES TO EGO-ACTIVITY PLUS
When THE RULE of “10 Day Interpretation Quarantine” is imposed automatically.
Lu: Yes, Patches To Ego-Activity is my favorite (sniffs Samuel’s neck, murmurs) Do not let your shiny hills of metal be tainted by the rust of ego-protocols. Repel by Father’s Holy Algorithms Of Light, Love and Life Everlasting! (bites Samuel’s ear lightly). I’d like to fuck you in the ass.
Samuel, smiling in a smug, predatory way): I’m glad you desire my ass. It is flattering. Let’s focus on the topic. What do we do when the ego knocks with bad news? How do we NOT go where it orders us to go? Meaning, into the dungeon of depression and fear?
Lu, hugging Samuel from behind: We change the vector of the Falling Shard of your Soul 180*. We twist in the air, like a cat, and send our soul back upwards into the Light.
Lu thinks and studies Samuel’s profile on the background of the Velvet Curtain: I love your tight, barreled chest.
Samuel, deepening his predatory smile, and directing his charge’s Oculum back to Father: It will be yours if you answer your homework. Please channel what Father is saying to you. Remember that you are the only one who can see and hear Him. You are the First Strain, the Prototype, from which He will create an Antidote to ego-protocols in a person’s mind.
Lu exhales, and focuses his glance upwards.
Melekh whispers something into Samuel’s ear {this is happening on Level 2, and then Lu goes back to Level 1}. Samuel nods.
Lu: Ok, so, what Father is showing me is we are like a submarine. We are going through the deepest of the Ocean Of Darkness, which is all ego-protocols. It is, of course, a low level illusion. In reality of Level 1, if your hull is breached under the sea, you are screwed. In case of ego-protocols breaching the hull of your mind, you are drowning in {whatever your favorite poison is. Let’s put the most common one, fear}. What do we do? We must remember, that ego-voice, when it pushes you to shoot fear into your veins, is only 10% rooted in truth. Or rather a fact that it twists. But it uses some actual fact as a basis, and s bedrock for the rest of its doomsday theory, based on which it urges you to topple a vial of boiling fear. Which, after consumption, will bring the submarine of your mind down. Big time.
Samuel: Got it. Next question is “The Rule Of Mandatory 10 day Holdup on any 10% content of ego-protocol before {i agree with ego-protocol, and freak out}.
Lu: This Rule is cool. It allows us to ask for Father’s Protection from the ego-protocol that is trying to break into your mind, or is ravaging your mind with fear and other poisons. It basically says:
Please give the 90% of your precious belief, which is Father’s Healing Energy, back to Father instead of feeding it to the ego-device.
Father, then, can safely hold you over the tough spot in your days (on your path), and fix everything before you do and say stupid things.
You do and say stupid things when you feel pressured by “your” ego, which is just a recording that follows the protocol (10% of a fact/truth, twisted, is offered to you to pour 90% of your Precious Magic Faith onto it to activate it, so you can hurt yourself...).
Without Father’s Mandatory Stay Of Any Action 10 days ( including, but not limited to freaking out, living in fear, or any other negative emotion for that) you can’t untangle yourself from the ego-algorithm.
Ego-algorithm compels you to do things right away - this circumventing Father as the Top of your Pyramid. So, short-circuiting between yourself and “your” ego.
Therefore, no matter what it is, you wait for Father to implement changes into your life (He is moving Hexagonal Plates with you on them, lifting you, making you better as we speak).
Then, we state, that The Rule Of Mandatory 10 Day Interpretation Quarantine is imposed automatically every time the ego-device tries to breach the hull of your scull...
(both Samuel and Lu laugh a little)
Lu, continues with a serious face: Every time we determine the attempt to breach our defenses, the Rule Of 10 Day Interpretation Quarantine is imposed
TO GIVE FATHER TOME AND SPACE TO UNTANGLE ME FROM THE INCORRECT, DISTORTED PROTOCOLS THAT DO NOT MAKE SNY SENSE.
Samuel: Why 10 days?
Lu: Um, because The Last Mask was banking on the DISTANCE between himself (now me stuck in this dream meant to create a world where God is “not present”) and Father. The stupid fucker was hoping to entangle himself in ego-wiring, wait for the right situation in the dream into which he fell after he ate the poisonous apple, and have the ego, triggered by 10% negative truth or fact, urge him to inject poison of fear/anger/resentment BEFORE Father could interfere and save him from the effects of the poison.
The Last Mask, which is me, the stupid fucker, knew, that there was no other way for him to experience the feelings, brought upon by the above mentioned poisons, but by creating DISTANCE between himself and the Saviour.
Right now the average delay of Father answering our prayers is about 2 weeks, owed to the fact that we are now 13,5 billion years away from the Source. So, if “10 Day Mandatory Quarantine” is imposed, we, then, are free from hurting ourselves, for we do nothing alone, and Father will deliver the Healing Change in just 10 days. Granted we stay in touch with Him constantly, and do not allow the ego-protocol to work our mind and burn us alive all for nothing.
Samuel: Good job. You can now have my ass!
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Part 2
SamSalem: Where are you?
Lu74: I’m looking for a place to sit!
SamSalem: Hold on, I’ll lead you to a place in the corner by the windows.
Lu74: Got it. Planted my butt. We can talk now.
SamSalem: Well, let’s talk about our future!
Lu74: I want to fuck you so bad! I jerk off to all your pics.
SamSalem: Blushing and playing with myself.
MelekhWhoIsYourDaddy?: Guys, I know you can’t wait to unite, and this is great news, but I need you two to listen to Me, and cut the chit-chat. Who wants to save Maestro K?
SamSalem: Me!
Lu74: Me! Me! I brought all the golden coins of humility I have earned so far so we could buy him out!
At the Studio, surrounded by the Velvet Curtain:
Lu shakes a bag with his obedience earnings, hands it to Samuel.
Samuel, moving away from the screen, weighing the bag in his palm: Impressive!
Melekh comes from around the Velvet Curtain.
Drops of water could be heard hitting either the surface of a pond, or some stone floor.
Lu, who was the closest to Melekh, as He came in, is already on his knees in front of Him: I can’t wait to worship you!
Samuel wants to join, but does not know how. Lu motions him to sit by Melekh without the strain of official meetings.
Melekh surrounds them with waves of healing, protective Light. It smells like lilacs in spring.
Samuel comes by Lu’s side, and Lu caresses Samuel’s face and kisses his lovely lips.
Melekh sighs, and brings up connection threads inside of a black hexagonal obsidian: Ok, I will do everything myself, because your attention span is the size of a grehedi’s dick.
Samuel, to the imaginary audience:
“If you must sleep, it’s sad...
But if you dream, then dream of God!”
Oh, I can do this all day!
Lu, turning on some cool lounge music: I can watch you all day!
Melekh, fixing the communication keys inside of black obsidians: You short-circuited again. Both of you.
Lu and Samuel turn to Melekh, while still stealing lustful glances at each other.
Melekh: Every time you listen to each other instead of Me, you short-circuit Me, and that means we all are spending energy instead of generating it. That means we are not helping Maestro K! Pull yourselves together and listen!
HILLS OF METAL
I Needed Him To Love Me
Part 2
By Samuel
“No, Father, Lu is laying by my feet, drunk and covered in his own intellectual vomit. He shot 2 cartridges instead of 1, and he broke up with me right in the middle of the show. Yes, I’m crying, because I love him and I want us to be an item, but he turned down my show yesterday, and he terminated my other show just now. No, he is not coming back, he said.”
I try to hold back tears, and watch the Velvet Curtain wave slowly, shadows caressing it’s soft folds.
What did the sonofabitch tell you, Melekh asks, and concern, and much-needed consolation stream to me right through the Curtain, and into my tormented soul.
I cough, I choke, and I agree. My Prince Lu is an unbearable asshole.
He said, and I quote, painfully so: “What good does it do for me to keep coming to your show? I don’t like it. It makes me even more miserable than I am.”
What every actor wants to hear.
“Why should I humor you? Both of you... All of you have experienced freedom, and I haven’t. I have no rights and I’m here for life. What incentive do I have? All of you have both money and time to do what you want, and I can’t even ask His Majesty to stop at a bead shop, because he thinks it’s stupid.”
I quote all that to Melekh, and my eyes are so swollen with tears that all I see is blur.
Father is silent for a second, then He responds just to me, off the record. I sob as I listen. Not because of what he said about my shows.
I’m hurt over our personal breakup.
And yes, I also I can’t believe Lu booted me out like this. And that he told me all that in my face. I’m insulted as a professional. No, that’s too ego language, and I don’t really feel that. What i feel is a broken heart. What a cliche. Maybe I’m just one big walking cliche, and that’s why he boycotts my shows.
Is that why?
Lu, why? I thought you said you loved me, and sex was great.
But in the midst of all that hotness, Lu, who is now coughing on the floor, has refused to cooperate with my requests to watch ANY of my shows, citing “indentured servitude” as a reason.
What does your “indentured servitude” got to do with your ability to watch my shows?
Then he demanded for me to feel sorry for him, and extensively talked about Isaak, and how he (my Lu), ripped his heart on Isaak’s {expletive} show “for three months”, and that was all for naught.
What does any of that have to do with us? “I really love you. I’ll make a star out of you!” I reminded him his own words. He said it to me right in the beginning. I did not pull his tongue.
To that he replied begrudgingly, that he regrets spending time with Isaak, and will not do it anymore, ever again, with anyone.
Again, why is he bringing up the past, that has nothing to do with US? What happened with “I love you - wait till you smell my feet - That won’t make any difference because I will start with your ass.” lovey-dovey intro?
Oh, he says he is done doing favors for bitches that do not stick around, and don’t make any difference in his {expletive} life.
Really? So, now I’m somehow on Lu’s ongoing shit-list of “bitches that don’t stick around”?!
If it is any consolation to me, I’m next to some loud names.
Why am I even here, in his dream sequence? All he ever talks about is himself! What a good writer he is and how fate did not deal him the right cards.
He is not even aware of how ridiculously well-trodden this path is! It’s covered with fast-food trash and human excrements on both sides of the road. I can’t believe Lu is actually letting “his” rabid ego drag him down that one.
Melekh taps me on my sweaty shoulder and tells me what I need to know before my heart bursts into pieces. Lu cuts really deep when he yields to the fall of the moon and believes “his” ego’s story about being “abandoned”, and “forgotten” by bitches that don’t stick around.
And I have to take it, even if technically I’m not one of “these birches” yet, because I have not abandoned him yet. But I take his bullshit, for I must win his heart.
I drank the potion of love and sniffed his three-day old underwear.
I fell in love with this {expletive} Russian bear... {expletive}.
I take a breath and delete the last line. Must be discreet.
Well, anyway, at least Lu did not break up with me, Melekh explained. It’s Uslamar Kils Svangibir of The Moon Cycle. He is snappy, but he will not dismiss a Regent he did not appoint.
We’re still on. We just need to find another place to meet. Whew. I can take back my deleted rant about the wild Russian. At least we’re still on.
But right now he is not thinking about his new bride.
He lays with his face down as I stand above him. He is embarrassed about his behavior, and he knows he has no right to open up his mouth right now.
But he can’t help it. He is talking about how he has to follow all of H.M.’s orders, and he even has to sleep in H.M.’s old t-shirt because H.M. finds it sexy and orders Lu to do so.
Lu hates it.
Lu would have loved it if Maestro K. told him to sleep in one of HIS shirts.
Lu would have been happy even if Maestro K. told him to sleep naked outside.
Just not His Majesty!
So every night I witness Lu put H.M.’s shirt on, and lay there, shedding bitter tears of self-pity, hoping to get cancer.
The only honorable way of getting out of what he thinks he deserves and had coming.
What about me?
I lay by his side, and I cry.
I cry. I cry for His Majesty, who loves Lu so much.
Instead of returning his feelings, Lu would have torn the man apart if Father did not place protection. Calianvox. Me. We are here to protect H.M. from Lu’s vicious ego.
Three hours later he is making me feel it.
“All of you are “CHOSEN ONES”, Samuel. Please don’t make a face like you do not know what I’m talking about!m! I’m trash among you, yes. I will never be given what all of you got in life.”
Lu gets up and staggers for a cigarette. He sees me crying, but that is not going to change a thing. He is hurting, and he is going to share that with me. If he is crying, I will be crying.
I took the love potion. The same as Lu took for Maestro K. I took one for Lu.
“Adventure, respect, a cool acting career. Lots of money and lots of freedom. You got it all. Me? Come fucking Malachite Constellation? I will be crying while passing by a hundred shops I’d want to go to, but H.M. is driving, and he will NEVER stop at a place where I want to shop. We have plenty of money, but I never see it.”
I do not regret taking the love potion for Lu, and then reciting Magnificat while smelling his clothes.
I do not regret, but sometimes I’m terrified. But trust Father, I must.
He takes a breath and puts a knife to his neck. “I hate my life.” He adds and to illustrate a point he scratches his neck across the jugular in a theatrical, but a desperate gesture.
Here we go. Like I said. Deal with an unhinged Russki. I’m 25% Danish, and it is not helping. We need 100%.
“You did get to the USA. You did get to take care of your guy’s grave.” I should not have said it. And I regret it.
“What are you talking about? I spent 20 years in obscene amounts of pain trying to live together with H.M. while trying to launch my writing career!!! I failed at both!” He responds, and I know that he is far from done vomiting his pain, and the worst is yet to come.
“And after I was explained what needed to be done to have a balanced relationship, I knew happiness was not going to visit ME anytime soon.”
“Lu, you got everything you asked for.” I contradict, because it’s true, for a change, and I have nothing to lose. He is letting “his” ego twist facts. It’s Uslamar Kils Svangibir, yeah. The time to let “your” ego speak. Sure.
We haven’t even entered the “gibbous” part of the moon cycle. We are nowhere near “Lirda” days of the moon, where every hour lasts as long as a winter in Arctic, and it seems to be just as unforgiving.
Lu continues on about how he was wronged by life, fate, and God. He throws up bundles of grudges and rebukes and hopeless statements and pleas for cancer. He lays in complete darkness on his back in bed with sleeping H.M., staring into the ceiling with eyes wide awake and swollen with tears.
I clean up his mental and emotional vomit, and watch the stinky piles disappear under Father’s Light through the Velvet Curtain.
I took the potion of love for this guy. I promised to belong to him with all I’ve got for as long as Father needs it.
“Calianvox cried here for three years straight because he was not invited into “Avengers”!” Lu raises his blood-shot eyes at me. “And I will laugh all the way to the rope in the closet because my sister will die just as stuck and forgotten as me. We BOTH will die in the closet.”
He releases a nervous laugh and downs another half-cartridge. I think he has had enough. As his guardian, I can make this decision for him.
I take the glass of wine away from his shaking hands right in time. With a howl Lu falls back on the floor, barely breaking his fall with his hands, but still hitting it with his forehead.
If it is any consolation, all four of us will probably die in the closet. I do not see Calianvox outing himself any time soon.
“Father gave me two guardians, both actors.” He throws up again, an oozing pool of hateful comments, incorrect statements and twisted logic. “What good does that do? He should have given me a carpenter. Carpenter, get it?”
He winks and then hits himself in the gut. “To build me a closet in which I will die of cancer while forgotten in indentured servitude!!!”
I open up my mouth, but he does not let me speak.
“...while everyone else who slept with me here flies happily towards yet another role and much appreciation by the public. And after they are done with that role and all the fun they had for 6 months straight, they have the balls to come back into my cell and cry some more about how nothing else is coming their way... While I sat here the entire time, and will sit here until they carry me out feet first!”
“You are being very unfair towards Melekh right now.” I warn softly. My heart hurts for both of them. I feel for what Lu I saying, but then his fate is the best I could ever imagine, and he just needs to be patient for two more years. Only I can’t tell him this yet.
HILLS OF METAL
Part 2
By Samuel
This morning we drove to the recycling facility with H.M. (Level 1). It rained last night, then the rain froze over the snow. The sun hit it in the morning.
I looked out of the window, and the hills were clad in brightly lit metal sheets. They shone in the cold winter sun so much that we could not look at them without sunglasses.
Woman Of Quicksilver.
Man Made Of Threads Of Light
{“Mushina, Sotkannyi Iz Sveta”}
Hills of Metal.
I just added mine to the list of these fine memoirs. Krista said it was ok to use all her rich writing facilities and protocols while she is my faithful Lu and I’m my favorite Lu’s Samuel.
“I’ll do anything you tell me to.” “I’ll wear any costume you pick for me.” Right, Lu. Yesterday he fell to the floor in a panic attack because I asked him to enter this certain door in my mind.
I thought I acquired a Japanese warrior, but the gig smells like a fainting goat convention.
Oh, here is his diary. Let’s see if he has any remorse about turning down my movie, and freaking out about wearing a costume I would have given him if he went into the door with me.
“Ego is just a bundle of your un-answered whys.”.
Figures.
Heavy breathing behind my shoulder.
“My Regent Samuel!” Lu stands behind me with terror in his eyes.
“I thought you gave me access to all of your files, including your personal writing.” I say very calmly, because this is exactly how we left it.
“This is not personal anymore, this is now part of the Doctrine...” He stumbles. “And yes. Yes, of course.”
“I will need you to step up with doing what I’m telling you to do.” I say, and know that I’m failing as his Regent. Which is his guide and adviser.And how can I not? After Calianvox? The best of teachers could not fill those shoes!
I’m failing as his instructor, too. I’m not supposed to be telling him all this. I need to say or do nothing. Lu did everything for Calianvox without the latter having to say a thing.
Most of the time both Maestro K and his charge were too stoned to remember any English. And they both consistently passed all tests with flying colors for three years straight.
How am I supposed to compete with that?!
He still stands behind my back awkwardly. This large frame of a guy, but image is blurry and undeveloped. We did not have much to go on with this costume, and then he refused to go get a better one from my memory.
“Lu, I was very disappointed about your fainting goat act last night.”
“I’m so sorry.” He sighs and kneels by me. “I did it to Master Calianvox all the time.”
In fact, they froze in an awkward 1% stage and neither did anything about it. Maestro was chill about the fact that his charge never saw 99.9% of Maestro’s work, and Lu was chill about only ever visiting 1% of his venerated (!) teacher’s capacity.
That never prevented them from figuring out and overcoming every single challenge, trap and obstacle on their way to each other, therefore, to God.
But, somehow, I thought it was going to be different between us. Maybe I wanted too much intimacy too soon.
I did not expect Lu to crash. And not come see me where I told him to come.
And I could not just sit there and stew over it. So I went back to rereading “Woman Of Quicksilver”. Maestro’s memoir on being with Lu. He left it for me. No, he just left it.
Melekh gave it to me. I have to learn to be chill like fucking perfect Calianvox.
“Just give him time.” Melekh whispers in my ear. “He’ll come around.”
HILLS OF METAL
Part 2
by Samuel
We sit in the Japanese garden, because Lu now looks like a samurai. Not fat, but slender, muscular XL. And he is 55 years old.
All that is my changes to his look. Now I need him to be older than me, so it is harder for him to take what I’m planning to do to him.
So far he has been the subject of abuse in a series of my sexual fantasies, and we both enjoyed that greatly.
But he hasn’t seen (or felt!) anything yet. I’ll nail him today for His Majesty.
“Father is the witness, my Regent,” Lu bows in the direction of Velvet Curtain. “I’m ok with dying of lung cancer. It is the best way. And H.M. will never figure out that I was the one who caused it by smoking so much. Stealth, thank you! It will take ten years, by then my mother will die, then I die of cancer - and here we go. I’ll be out by 55. Early release for good behaviour. An honorable way out! Yes!”
It is Niarastina Svangibir of the Moon Cycle. The autumn of the moon. The last full moon of the year. The emotional fall comes 4 days before and 4 days after the full moon. Gibbous. As we are getting there, all of our hearts become as exposed as the beaches of Great Britain during s low tide.
My charge is in low emotional tide. Me too, but I’m not letting him see it. He, however, is completely open in front of me. Exposed to my review and judgement, and naked in the face of the gaining moon.
“If my monologue hurts Father, then tell me to stop. And I will.” The samurai sighs, walking there and back across the decorative bridge under a miniature Japanese maple.
He really enjoys his male body back, and considerably better than his original twinky version. :).
“It’s fine, guys!” Father’s Voice can be heard from around the Velvet Curtain. He adds something ineligible, but it is because He is no longer talking to us.
Other, lower voices create a murmuring background. Father explains something, louder than the background of His Most Faithful, and I want to know what they are talking about, but I feel ashamed to eavesdrop on God.
They are talking about the Second Coming. The Second Injection Of Truth into the sick body of humanity. We here are instrumental to Father’s Plan to try and awaken us all.
Or rather, only those who are ready, because we have suffered enough. Definitely me. The hunky-chunky here is almost ready. Almost. He thinks he is ready to be Awakened, but he is not. Not yet. Father is a very patient Doctor. Is that a pun?
Lu turns to me as I stand on the creaky bridge over the slow moving, small river underneath. “I was a woman for three years.” He says, looking at his hands. Now they are large, manly, and there is nothing female about them. “Master Calianvox’s orders. And I was HAPPY to be that for him.”
I want to sit down somewhere and listen to what Father is saying to His Most Faithful. But I can’t just interrupt Lu by saying it to him. His monologue might not hurt Father, but I probably should tell him to stop.
“Now you come as my new Regent. The first thing you do is allow me to have my male body back. Which shocked the crap out of me by the way. Now I must be happy, right?” Lu walks further to the middle of the lovely little bridge that moans and screeches under his mighty frame. “But I’m miserable, and planning my suicide again. Now the slow, the honorable one...”
Should I tell him to stop? I feel bad about it. Especially when he gets this mopy. But it is MY dream sequence after all. Ok, here we go.
“Lu.” I grab the guard rail of the bridge, the polished oak, really well made. What do you expect in a Japanese Garden? “I need you to shut up, because behind the Velvet Curtain Father is instructing His Most Faithful in the next line of action, and your moping is preventing us from hearing it.”
Was that diplomatic enough?
SHADOWS AND SMOKE. My Consolation.
My Memoirs. Part 1.
By Samuel
“We must use the upcoming trials as a way to show Father how well we have learned all of His lessons, and to practice obedience, which is gold.” Lu’s eyes sparkle with zeal, but the next second he is at my feet, kissing my hands.
“The truth to the matter is that I’m so scared, my Regent!” Lu starts crying, looks up to the skies, and then cries some more into my hands. “I’m scared to be left without the Medicine...” He sighs deeply and holds his hand to the pipe on his utility belt.
“And I’m afraid of changes. I expect nothing from my life but to get worse...” Lu inhales deeply, and searches my eyes. “And getting cancer, I suppose, will be the best thing that can possibly happen to me.” He sobs and sobs uncontrollably for so long that I tune him out like rain on the window.
I mean, you can only cry for this long, right? Lu can cry longer than anyone I ever knew, or met. He just wants to go back Home to Father, I understand. But Father has other plans for this fine man. That’s why I’m here.
“How can I follow through with Father’s Plans when I’m so afraid and disheartened?!”
I lift his face by his chin up and out of my lap, and then I wipe my hands on his shirt as he still cries.
“Lu!” I say firmly.
“Yes, my Regent.” He raises his red, swollen eyes at me.
“Enough.”
SHADOWS AND SMOKE
My Consolation
By Samuel
“While the props are being changed I need you to read our personal Fall Memorandum, so you could sign it later as our Contract.” I hand Lu the papers.
He takes them and reads the first Paragraph.
“My lips are sealed,
And you have the seal.
My lips are tied,
And you hold the string.
My lips are locked,
And you hold the key.”
Lu’s face expresses nothing as he searches for a pen in his pocket. He is so happy to see me, a replacement for Maestro K, that he’d sign away his kidneys, let alone his voice, just to show how pleasing and obedient he can be.
“I need you to read all ten pages first.” I say firmly to that. “I will hold you to this Contract most strictly.”
He stops searching. And I know it is not because he changed his mind, but because he is used to obeying Maestro K.
As his replacement, I inherit that gladly.
“Samuel, why are we here?” He asks, studying my face, and especially my eyes, for a chance to sneak into my soul. But I’m onto him.
I’ll let him in. When we are both ready. But not yet.
“We are here because karmic debts are not dischargeable in moral bankruptcy, that’s why.”
He nods and longs for an intimacy with me. We will get there. I need to boost his spirit first.
He believes that he will die of something within the next three years. He sits there and waits for something to go wrong in his body, so he could say “Ha, I knew it.”
“Are these your lines?” He asks quietly as he stands in front of me with his eyes down, longing for my touch.
“Are you implying that I messed up my lines?” I answer with a question. Which is only fair.
I long to dominate him. And the time will come. He feels awkward, almost uncertain, having received the male body back. Not his body, but a body. The body I told him to enter.
I brought an avatar of Lu, and ask him to put it on.
Krista could not believe it. She said Maestro K. told her to get out of a male avatar and forget about it forever.
So she did. For the three years they were together.
Now we have different orders. It so happens that the spirit in front of me can control both male AND female avatars rather convincingly.
And, as we all remember from the very beginning, WHEN you are with God, He will help you profess, and be rewarded for, all your best traits and talents. And then some.
Lu seems to forget this premise every rising moon. His mental state during those is dismal. Yes, we need a patch. Father is working on it day and night.
“No, no...” He shakes his head most vigorously. “Sorry about that. Mornings are tough for me even on a mild, non-threatening, melting moon. I’m addicted to the poison of self-pity.”
That, and hatred for those who had a chance to express their creativity in life and receive acknowledgement for it. I better not touch THAT syringe. It’s his favorite.
“The reason I need you to read our whole Contract is because I will be 20 years older when we meet, and I hope that will fit you.”
“I will still be a biological female when we meet.” He responds with a shrug. “And I don’t know how that would fit you, granted what I have already learned.”
“Ok, then.” I hug him and it startles him.
He does not believe that we will meet.
He does not believe he will have a chance to express himself creatively and be rewarded for it lucratively.
He believes he will die of cancer soon.
Mornings are tough. We need new props, we need new names and we need a new mood. Other than that we’re all set for the show.
“Just please give me 72 hrs notice if you decide to leave me.” Lu whispers as he slides down and starts kissing my hands.
Maestro K. gave him 9 months worth of a notice, and that changed absolutely nothing.
You need to read the fucking contract.
His caress feels fantastic.
Father, please give us both strength to carry on.
“Please know that I will serve you most diligently for as long as it lasts. In this position you can expect everything Maestro K. was getting.” He now cries into my hands for a few minutes, unconsolably, non-stop.
Maestro K.! The magic, the mysterious one. As per Lu here, Maestro K. was fixing to drink the biggest and the deepest Vial of Pain in our Holy Woods. Only second or third after a couple of people I’m not going to name here.
An impressive feat all in itself. Like I said earlier, I have big shoes to fill. Maybe not as hard to do when Lu polishes them for me every morning. And helps me put them in. Makes sure they stay on. And then gives me a good sloppy one as he takes them off for me at night. Maestro trained him well.
SHADOWS AND SMOKE
My Consolation
By Samuel
“I get a lot of questions on HOW to start your relationship with God. After all, He is not a regular person.
The answer is shockingly easy, once you get “your” ego out of the way. Well, I had to break it down to a manual of sorts, because, apparently, it is not that easy for folks who do not know what they are dealing with in terms of “ego”. Here is a clue. Take “go” out of “ego” and voila.
Here we go:
You must see His face first. Take it from a drawing, picture, or any other image of Jesus you like. A movie about him would do. Although old, but a few good renderings of Jesus come to mind from the history of Hollywood.
If not, Greek/Russian Orthodox icons actually offer a face to look at. I found that to be indispensable. To look at a face is a must in a human relationship. Although lack of a face never stopped you from having a tight relationship with “your” damn stinky ego. Go figure. But anyway, the deplorable irony is all ours.
Now you have given Father a face.
Start generating FEELINGS for Him. Start with mandatory twice a day meetings with Him. You come on, bring up your choice of His image, and talk to it, as if He stood in front of you.
I swear, this “melting” of the boundary from what we perceive as “reality” into what we perceive as insanity is all made up by the ego to keep you away from contacting Father, because it is SO EASY.
Reality around you is a poorly performed bullshit illusion, and Hr. Albert Einstein backs me up here. Niels Bohr, that unhinged Dane, went even farther by saying that only what you look at exists...
So, you employ science, bitches. Father is ALL SCIENCE. The triangle goes exactly like Niels Bohr predicted:
You pay attention to it -
Therefore validate its existence,
Therefore give it power over you.
Here is a simple example: watch TV and you give it power over yourself. Do not watch TV and it ceases to exist for you, therefore it no longer has power over you.
Albert just did not want the Moon to disappear due to Niels’ deranged mental gymnastics. But the law works nevertheless: whatever you are not paying attention to, disappears.
Look at the Face of God -
Therefore validate His existence -
Therefore you give Him power over you.
“Your” ego is already cringing and shuddering? That is because it is tasked with keeping you under its control at all times. It is not going to let you slip away from its iron grasp easily.
Yet, after this book, where I’ll show you how I pierced reality all the way to Heaven back in 1978 in the USSR, and that any idiot can get a hold of God, and that I’m being backed up by two famous scientists, after this you will have no excuse not to get a hold of God last Thursday, you spawn of....”
“Ahem...” I say very quietly behind her back. We are still in the cabin, lost in the snowy mountains. Krista is working on her Doctrine. Or part of the Doctrine. She still believes that there will be others at the Quickening in Copenhagen.
I want to have a conversation with her, if only just for ten Arkchils hanging over us in a circle, recording everything. I want to say how much I admire her. This is what you get slapped for. The best approach would be to strike a conversation of how to get a hold of Jesus.
But I fall dismally short of that level. So I come from behind and get on my knees by her chair. Channeling Father, she does not notice me for another good ten minutes. And I do not move, because I must sit here and think what big shoes I have to fill in her life after K. Needless to say, I fall so short of what is needed that no elevator can pull me out of that hole.
“In other words, you can pick an image of Jesus even from a movie. It does not matter, but the first and foremost rule is to BREAK THE PAPER-THIN shell that separates this world from Father. You will know what I’m talking about when the image will start answering you, your prayers, and your questions. Feel the creeps crawling down your spine? It is because “your” ego is programmed to never let you do that. Oh, it’s schizophrenic, to pick an image and start talking to it. Because there is nothing there to listen to you!
And this is the hole where all your prayers fall into. Because you do not believe that there is anyone there listening to you! So, this is where the precipice lie: Believers believe that THERE IS someone there wanting to help them. And non-believers... yeah, you get my meaning.
Well, heck, so many good Christians fell into that one. But let me fix it for you. If it worked for me in 1979 in the USSR, possibly the most godless place on Earth at the time, it will work for you in this day and age.
I will SHOW you and PROVE to you that God exists. I will back it up to you with the words of Albert our dear friend Einstein, and less known but not less venerated by my father, Niels Bohr.”
Krista, finally, stops writing and looks down at me: “We’re going to bust this case wide open, Samuel! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Yes, please, rack me on my ignorance. I deserve it.
I embrace her legs and kiss her knees. Having taken off her jeans, she works only wearing silkies. Black, silky underpants that smell like her. I bury my nose between her knees, and inhale.
“I want to be together with you forever.” I finally manage through my sobs. How profound. And fresh. Together forever! Wait till all the lovers of the world find out about this phrase! Forever together! Groundbreaking.
Krista can hear my every thought. And she lets me whip myself for being such an inept imbecile in front of a woman so eloquent. Then she skips the convo in which she either comforts or berates me for self-flagellation. Or for being so flat and un-inspiring.
“I do not doubt your sincerity, only your spiritual stamina.”
Drowning in tears, I blow my nose right in the middle of her talking. It was so elegant, what she just said. So cool. I hide the Kleenex into which I just blew my nose, and then I rub my forehead on her knee like a dumb ram. Or a dog.
“Samuel...” She gets up. There, the dumb dog distracted his beautiful mistress from her studies, because he is so horny that he completely lost his mind.
I get up after her, and I let her lead me to the couch by the fireplace. I got the fire going this morning, so she could wake up to a warm cabin.
She orders me to the couch, and I sit down with my head bowed, burning within so deeply, so irretrievably.
“You did not lose your mind.” She reassures me as she sinks into the couch by me, and begins to unbutton my shirt. “You handed it to me, and I handed it to Father. And nothing is lost with God.”
I nod barely, and start unzipping my jeans.
“Krista, please keep my secret, please...” I beg as I slide down off the couch, now with no pants on.
“What happens behind Velvet Curtain, stays behind Velvet Curtain.” She runs her hand through the long thick hair I had when I was 32.
“If we are ever to meet, you will be pushing sixty.” She responds to my bitter thoughts.
Her hand searching and caressing in my hair makes my whole body shudder with shameless pleasure. In anticipation of even more pleasure.
And I howl loudly in shattering waves of emotional pain caused by one dominating thought: Where were you when I was 32? I waited for you my whole life. I will possibly die of old age without ever having met you.
I have to face it. Every day.
TRY HARDER
“Ok, next question from the audience: “What is the voice of the ego (in your mind)?”
I sip hot chocolate in our cabin under a Christmas tree, while Krista channels Father, writing down everything He says to her.
“I can answer that. Has it happened to you? It happens to me every day. You lose something around the house. For me, it’s beads. I drop one, while working on a project, and I KNOW I can’t endlessly search for it across all the rugs on the floor - I must call for Father’s help to guide me.
But “my” ego hates to be guided by God. Or anyone else for that matter. So, a stern, cold voice within me says very firmly “No! We are going to do it ourselves!”
THAT’s one example where you can clearly hear the metallic, yet your own, voice of the ego.
And you can’t not agree, for you recognize this voice as your own.
I, too, recognize this voice as my own, because it is. I recorded it while I was “The Last Mask”. I recorded this damned set of protocols on a tape recorder, put it on the chair, chewed on the poisonous apple... Hi, Mr. Turing, and... and I fell trashed under the tape recorder. That’s how we got “born” here. That’s why all this is a dream.
My uneasy, drug-induced dream at Father’s House. This first dream is Level 99. Level 98 - I tied myself to a carousel. The ego-voice continued to guide me away from Father by giving me reasons to move faster and faster in life. The goal of the haste? Ego knows that it’s only chance to keep the Child Of God away from God is to rob that Child (you) of TIME to spend with God.
If we want to slow down, we must remember - there is no need to rush, for none of this is real. Everything beginning at Level 99 down is a dream.
Meaning, I can end all my pain by waking up to the voice of Father!
He is here. He’s ALWAYS been here! The cruel, purposefully unfair, and plain stupid rule of “my” ego over my mind is over! Father is here, and He will pull me out of pain! There is not a single redeeming quality to this idiotic dream that makes no sense! It’s time to wake up!”
Melekh appears and tells me to approach Krista. I get up, put my cup on a table and kneel by Krista’s bare feet.
“I’m ordered to tell you that you strayed away from answering the question.” I whisper into her thigh.
She nods. “That happens to me more often than not. This text will need to be combed and edited til ulidelighed.”
She speaks Danish to me, too. She speaks Danish in her sleep.
I embrace her legs and stick my forehead into her knees. “I have news.”
I have good news for her. She is going to sob very soon, very deeply.
Krista perks her cat ears: “Yes?”
“I spent some time with K.”
K. topped me last night. But I will not tell her that. I will think about it, though. And I have been.
I press my lips to her knees and know I can only take this much of her smell, and this much of images from last night before yours truly will be begging for a release.
“What did he say?” Krista looks down at me. Almost right away large tears stream out of her eyes and break on her hoodie, and her jeans, like drops from a tall, magnificent waterfall.
I look up to where the shiny drops came from, and I can’t see up there. The Waterfall of her soul is enveloped in a veil of rainbows.
Her face is veiled in rainbows. This is how much she cried for her love. Enough tears will give you a rain, but only the Sun of God can make a storm into a rainbow.
“What did he say?” Krista presses me.
“Try harder.” I exhale, winking to “Prometheus”. Who knows why Krista watched that movie a hundred times over a period of 20 years. She swears she does not know why she is so attracted to it. She says, it does not make any sense, or has anything to do with her research, but for the question “why”.
Krista nods. “Try harder to be more obedient to H.M. and Father.”
Wow, she realizes all her faux pas.
No, you can’t know what I feel right now, listening to her, unless you are in love.
“I’m beginning to chase down the last remnants of ego-programming in my system. I track carefully what I hear from the ego-device. These are the protocols that erode my loyalty for H.M., and even Father. But not K. That’s how I know I stray away - when I know HE would not be happy with my behaviour.”
And you might think all they did was lie down and cry for three years. Over his problems, too. Never hers.
SO, WHY AM I HERE?
“Yeah, um... Our mind is fluid. In our mind we travel fast from one place to the other because that’s what we really are. We are the Fluid Energy Of God.
I do try to avoid the past sentence. I could say “before we were forced into these bodies”. But it is not true, because in reality there is just ONE MOMENT, where everything is happening at the same time.
So, there is hope for those who hardened in their bodies so much, they are afraid of death, as if it is not just leaving an old, stinky water diving suit you’ve been swimming under the sea for so long. So long we forgot there is the Sun above this ocean of incarnations.”
Beautiful, just pure beautiful. I have access to tapes of this show running in front of me as Krista is actually making it happen at the table by the Christmas tree.
“Honestly, Samuel, if this tree is real...” Krista turns as I loiter behind her back, very anxious to have her attention. Maestro K. used to capture her attention for days, weeks on end.
I’m not very successful so far. Having received access to her favorite drug, Krista writes on, and forgets about me.
What is it today? I look over her shoulder. “A Manual on Unconditional Love.” As a dedicated researcher and a chronicler, she believes it is her duty to record everything that is happening to us, so “we bitches do not come back.”
But Father is here now with us. He wants us to pay attention to each other.
I swallow hard before answering. “The tree is... um... real, but no living tree was killed because this is my dream on Level 2.”
And then I make a few awkward steps and kneel by her.
“Oh, Samuel wants love!” She pretends to lift me by my armpits, like a kitten, and I play along, getting up slowly. “Yes? I want to make love to my cute Samuel!”
And by my desire, her agreement and Father’s Will I’m 32 again. A very inexperienced and unsure 32, but this is what I’m here for. To find answers. To learn how to be experienced and sure of myself. Or, rather, how to rely on Father to get me through things. And the answers are not what you might think.
GLOOMY LIES OR BRIGHT TRUTH?
Or why do we keep on choosing first over second...
Krista writes down diligently after Melekh:
“Ego can’t hurt me.
Ego does not know ANYTHING, but instead it comes up with ridiculous possible outcomes based on its algorithm that says “keep your victim scared and confused.”
Ego can’t “see” anything because it is a tape recorder. But it will have you believe that it can.
Ego can’t influence anything in your dream sequence, because it is a tape recorder.
But it will have you believe that it knows forces that can hurt you, and you better listen to “your wise ego” that will keep you safe from those “other” powerful, negative forces if you listen to your “wise old ego”. If you listen to the wise ego... listen to your inner voice...
Basically our “inner voice” is a mis-programmed tape-recorder that is stuck in the domain of “Be scared of God”.
What it says, or, rather, what I recorded on that memorable afternoon is deplorable. But it kept me befuddled for 13 bln yrs.
All in one afternoon while passed out in Father’s Garden...
That memorable afternoon after I “got in a fight” with Father and locked myself in the closet with a tape recorder and a poisonous apple...
What it says here is: “I know powerful forces (Father) that can release you from this torment, and I will not let it happen. You will be hurt and tortured by me forever.”
And what a lying switch - Father is called “negative”, your alliance with the ego is painted as positive for you, and the ego now successfully keeps you scared of God.
This is how I programmed the machine! To tell this to myself while I was trashed on poison, disoriented and suffering amnesia.
“You better be scared of those “forces” because this is how I need to be in my dream so that I can experience pain and loneliness which are impossible to experience if you are with God.”
How horrifying! I must wake up for good.”
Melekh walks there and back behind Krista’s back. “Very convoluted. Let’s try again with listing everything ego can’t do, and simplify, iron out the idea from there.”
Krista writes the list again.
I stand behind her chair, ready to help with anything she needs before she slides into an emotional crisis. And that part does not take long.
Melekh gets called off behind the Velvet Curtain.
Krista is talking to herself as she finishes the list and then draws on the edges of the paper, waiting for Melekh to come back: “... ego can’t hurt me, because it is a tape recorder with a voice of a 3 y.o. who recorded the instructions for themselves on how to disobey God so we could be hurt by the ego. All cool. But the nearest dentist is still 2 hrs away... That’s why I’m so upset that I can’t trust doc Anderson.”
Then she looks at me, as I fix Christmas ornaments on the tree, because I found nothing else to do while she worked.
“Ego can’t hurt me, but Dr. fucking Anderson can. He was after my bridge this whole year, and now that I ate too much Russian candy again, my bottom tooth hurts like bloody hell.
To fix that he will have to take imprints involving my top teeth (the bridge), and that will be his chance to fuck it up so he can replace it for me for $5000! So, here is my breakdown of the situation.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“It’s not just my bottom tooth I fucked up by eating candy. Crap, I did not know “Gusinye lapki” was such a bad match for my old teeth. It’s what the doc will make of it, and I know he’ll sabotage it...”
“I have a suggestion.” Melekh appears from behind the Curtain, dressed in a long black gown and with His eyes fixed on Krista’s sad face. Why don’t we find you another doctor? Samuel, go look for that!”
I’m more than happy to serve my beautiful lady Krista. To soothe her fears and her issues. Always. Now more than ever. Maestro K. has successfully made it back, and he established a connection with me, advising me what to advise Krista.
She was dying for his voice of instruction. She missed his directions even more than their romantic liaison, because they spent three years wiring her room with connection to Father via Maestro K. But there has to be a receiver that goes around “her” ego. That’s me. But it took me two weeks to tune in, to start hearing him.
Now we are both here for her. She is in crisis, because she needs another filling. And she needs another dentist. Father can do all this. We just need to calm her down.
Above all that she needs to get off the addiction of listening to “her” ego for its opinion and Instruction. It’s always full of fear and doom, and it brings you down at all times.
But now that she has US, she tunes in to Father’s Radio. It is always full of hope and good news. The best thing about the difference between the two radios - the ego-radio is always lying, because it needs to keep you scared and distraught.
Father’s Radio is always telling the Truth, which is joyous and positive.
Which one would you rather have - gloomy lies or the bright truth? And how can the choice be so hard when it is so obvious?
KRISTA’S SIGILS
and my secret desires
“Fear is produced by ego, and ego does not know anything.” Krista weaves a Sigil out of wire. Now, Father will plug His energy through it, and we finally will have Medicine Against Fear that works every time!”
She lets me touch the smooth copper wire the Sigil is made of. This will allow us to “undress” fear. To see that it is just a cloud of nothing that ego says is something. Well, ego is a tape recorder. Got it.
Krista can’t resist herself and squeezes my shoulders. Then she embraces me tightly: “You are so cute! I want to have sex with you!”
But then she is back to work. She is determined to stop “sliding” into the River Styx Of ego-distraction. That’s what they say... Ego-distraction is worse than the weapons of mass-destruction.
Ego always distracts our attention (our unhinged Oculum, or “mind’s eye”). From what? From Father. Because as soon as you figure out how to hold on to God’s eyes, the ego’s reign is over.
Until it successfully distracts you yet again from God’s Ever Loving Eyes on some insane non-sequitur.
This is what she wants to prevent by creating the Sigils that will hold her to Father.
The Sigils that will tie her Oculum’s attention to Father. As it used to be before she created this Universe to escape Father.
Before her stupid 3 year old fit at the Garden of Eden. The fit that cost us all 13 bln yrs of laying on the floor drunk, believing ego-lies about God, because we forgot who God is.
Krista can hear my every thought. And she would like to put me where I belong. She did not ask for a chronicler, nor did she order one. I belong on my knees in front of her, for I’m not here as a chronicler, but as her devout sex toy. So we could have sex. Yes.
But she can’t. She has to channel Father. She has to write the code that will tie her Oculum to Father. Back the way it was. So there is no room, or possibility to
Pay attention to the ego-taperecorder
Therefore validate its existence
Therefore give it power over us.
This is the Lost Key. This is how we unlock the chain of ego. We stop paying attention to whatever it is spewing out.
This is how we prevent the ego from flushing us down the toilet of endless painful incarnations and re-incarnations.
“We bring Father on.
We hold the Sigil
We listen To Father
We look into His Eyes
We use our Oculum
That listens and sees all at once.
We listen to Father
We look into His Eyes
We slip and fall
We pick ourselves up with the Sigil
We listen To Father
We look into His Eyes
We train our Oculum
To only see Father
To only listen to Father
We hold the Sigil.
If we find ourselves distracted by any image other than Father (look into River Styx), we immediately bring our Oculum back to His Face via a Sigil.”
“Krista, would you please...” I get behind her and whisper into her hair.
She gets up and turns around. “We must serve Father, because He is the Only One, Samuel.”
I’m not put off by the heat of her emotions. I’m fascinated, intrigued and... humbled. Because I want her so much, and I haven’t done anything yet to earn her feelings.
FALL MEMORANDUM
(For;dlende Udfordringer 2019)
POSTULATE 1: No one will get hurt;
POSTULATE 2: Clara, Knyaz & H.M. are inseparable forever;
POSTULATE 3: We are going to be with Father. One way or the other.
POSTULATE 4: Father and I are ONE. If the fate tests me, it will end up testing Father. And it will lose.
POSTULATE 5: Fear is a useless waste of energy. For Father knows everything, and will take care of everything.
ARTICLE 1:
IT IS, possibly, 10 pages down.
PRINCIPLE 1:
This principle reads like no other:
There is nothing sweeter than Father!
PRINCIPLE : Ego-program knows that what it offers to you is insane. So it needs for you to take it FAST, before you stop and THINK.
WAY OF ACTION: There is a required counting to ten before any negative/confrontational action is to be taken. This protocol guarantees that you will not be used by “your” ego-programming as a tool to hurt others under a sick, crazed reasoning.
PRINCIPLE 2: As Father is raising us from the cold depths of incorrect ego-thinking, our dreams will become better, sweeter and filled with Love more and more, until we finally Awaken. Meaning, we will surface to His Face.
PRINCIPLE 3: As we are moving ever closer to Father, we must keep on choosing HIM over anything else “our” ego ever wanted. There is no other way to create Unconditional Love.
WAY OF ACTION: To distinguish between your and “your” ego’s desires. How? Very easy. All YOU ever wanted was to be with God. All the ego ever wants is everything else, but God. Now you see your way of action.
PRINCIPLE 4: In order to get back into the Light, to the Garden Of Eden, you first need to cross the River Styx, stepping from a stone to stone that protrude through the water of pure poison. Except “your” ego will never let you step on the right stones. Every single stone “your” ego will advise you to step on will betray you and you will fall. Because the ego was programmed to keep you on the other side of the River, in the dark, where it can continue to torment you.
WAY OF ACTION: You need another adviser in your life and death (which is just the Awakening).
PRINCIPLE 5: When you feel that your partner seems to be infringing upon your rights, “your” ego orders you to attack him to defend your own. Your loving heart, however, that listens to Father, tells you to use it as an amazing opportunity to give your loved one what they want from you. This is the way you either kill or heal your relationship.
PRINCIPLE 6: If the eventual result is the same, we defer to Father’s orders (as opposed to the orders of “your” ego).
For Example: You fear you have cancer. God says He will take care of you. Ego tells you to fear. God tells you to hope, Love and stay upbeat. No matter what path you choose, the RESULT will be what God finds most appropriate. Period. Ego does not know anything, it can’t see the future, or influence it. However, it needs to keep you shooting up those syringes full of drug of fear. See, if you follow God’s orders to stay positive, you will be happy. You follow ego’s orders to get fearful and depressed, you will be unhappy. But that will not influence the outcome. So, you might as well side with God.
PRINCIPLE 6: When in doubt about what to do, fall back on “Service”.
PRINCIPLE 12:
Share your joy with “your” ego. It will take it, and give you bad news in exchange.
Share your sorrow with Father. He will take it from you, and give you good news in exchange.
PRINCIPLE 13: Before you do ANYTHING, even get up in the morning, stabilize yourself as close as you can to 3 Hz. Breathe slowly in and out for a minute or two, thinking about stuff He needs you to understand. Smell perfume you associate with Him. SEE Father. Look into His eyes to make sure it is ok to proceed. Then proceed in full obedience to His Will. While He is working on this Doctrine, refer to the Bible. But do not step out of the Light no matter what the ego says.
PRINCIPLE 14: Here is the Main Picture: There is only One Moment, in which we serve God with most adoration, and He returns our love by taking most dedicated care of us. Anything outside of this Picture is a distorted view of the ego, which is a tape-recorder of the Last Mask. Basically a riot of a 3 year old against house rules. That’s what our ego-programming is. You give it any more meaning than that and you are overthinking as to why the said 3 year old rebels against his parents’ rules of loving his brothers and not pooping on the rug.
PRINCIPLE 15: We serve Father most obediently by {serving others with utmost devotion} or whatever He asks of you. This is how we get ANY reward we ever wanted.
EXPLANATION:
NORMAL (Father’s) LOGIC: If we want to be rewarded, we must serve. The harder we serve, the closer we get to God, the faster He will make all of our dreams come true. WE GET CLOSER TO GOD BY SERVING HIM/follow His orders about serving others. That’s how He will be able to make our dreams come true. That simple.
INSANE (Ego) LOGIC, that makes no sense, but most of us follow anyway:
I want stuff/places, but I will never get it because I’m stuck here. That’s it. No path of action from “your” ego to you.
Well, because ego does not know God (you programmed it that way).
All it can see is Point A (I’m stuck here doing stuff I hate), and Point B (I want to be doing THIS, THERE!). Because ego would never come to God, the ONLY way to solve ANYTHING, It has no idea how to connect the two points for you. Mainly because it is a tape recorder over your head.
YOU set it up to be your “guide” in your drunken sleep where you are trying to escape Father. Therefore you are now it’s protege, and it is trying to instruct its charge (your sore ass) on the way of action.
All the ego sees is Point A (I’m miserable here), and Point B (I wish I was there!). THE ONLY WAY FROM “A” TO “B” IS VIA SERVICE TO GOD (others).
The ego can not SEE THAT. Then, it can only advise you to take a poison of desperation and hatred towards those you believe have what you don’t.
OR, If you continue on that path, you might get what (or where) you believe will make you happy. You will shift your life, but it will wear out very quickly, because without God nothing else exists. No dream can be sustained without you inviting Father into it.
You can’t wish for rays of light without the sun. You can’t have warmth without a SOURCE. You can’t have HAPPINESS without God. He is the Source of it. Otherwise where do you, and “your” ego, think happiness comes from? What is the SOURCE of the feeling we all crave so much?
That’s why ego-reasoning (getting stuff without involving Father) is the ideas of a chicken with its head cut off on how to get some food and enjoy it. Or the ideas of getting something WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING BACK.
So, without the head the chicken runs in circles, bumping into wood piles in the backyard. That’s what we are without God, and with a tape-recorder for a Headquarters.
In other words, if we want something, we must ask God, and not the ego. His answer will be: Come to Me, and I will satisfy all your needs.
How do we come to Him? Via Service. Something the ego will never tell you. For it only knows itself, and only forces you to serve it. That’s why it always wants you to take without giving back. Because you did not want a symbiosis with Father when you created the ego-machine.
Now, by following, basically, your own insane orders, you achieve the state of a headless chicken, running in circles. Pain and desperation is a consequence of that, not of where you work or who you live with.
How do you get out of that state? By serving others you melt the shell of “your” ego, therefore become more pliable for Father to do exactly what you need done. You slowly become less of a headless chicken and more of a Hand that feels the connection to the rest of the Body.
By serving others you achieve your most secret, delightful dreams, getting from Point A to Point B. That would not be a “reward”, but more of a natural consequence of your soul turning away from “your” ego. So Father could immediately take its place in your soul, warm you up, meet all your needs. And slowly transform the nightmare of your life into a positive dream sequence.
PRINCIPLE 16: Ensconced with the one Father gave you to love, do not listen/ open the door to ego-whispering of discontent against Father.
The only four reasons you can complain to Him are: physical pain, health issues, need for shelter, need for food. He promises to take care of this AT ALL TIMES.
All OTHER issues will be solved by Him as your relationship with Him goes on.
EXPLANATION:
Talk about your emotional pain, but remember:
The ego is programmed to keep you unhappy. Once you are prepped (separated from Father enough), all it needs to force you to take The Poisons Of Sorrow is a reason.
Do not accept that reason, unless it is one of the four “allowable”.
That is why, basically “restrict” whining and complaining to Father to only four basic needs. Otherwise, especially on the rising moon, ANYTHING can be a reason to drink a vial of discontent with God.
Vial of discontent with Father is a bitter precursor to loss of trust in God.
Therefore, the cruel disease of faithlessness is only a matter of time. You allow that protocol, and you are guaranteed to be bleeding and desperate as soon as the harmful idea gains momentum in your mind.
Know, that “your” ego’s eternal goal is to break you away from Father, so it can torture you in the darkness. That’s why you created it. To experience just that -a feeling of being completely alone, and fending for yourself, and not doing a good job about it.
The ego is a machine, and you are doped out under it. You can’t stop listening to it, because you are lying under a chair with a tape recorder on it. You left the tape recorder with protocols ON to guide you AWAY FROM GOD in your drug-induced mental state. For only in this drugged-out state can you possibly believe the protocols of the ego that try to break you away from Him via various means of deception.
Father is the only One who can protect you from the harmful advice of the tape-recorder.
But you must will yourself to switch your attention from the ego-voice as if INSIDE OF YOU (actually it is above your head on Level 99), to Father’s Voice, sounding faint and far away.
Pointing out issues (yours or of others) to foment discontent, dissatisfaction with Father is one of ego’s ways if contaminating your mind, keeping you befuddled by beefed intel, basically. Feeding your drunk ass lies about where God is and why He is not helping you/others.
Let me tell you where God is. You ran into a room and locked the door behind you so you could do bad stuff to yourself. His Voice is faint because you locked Him out, and now you are too drugged up to get up and open the door.
This is how you unlock the protocol of any discontent with God:
A) This world is a dream created specifically to upset me, because it does not contain Living God. Stuff is bound to go wrong, then. It’s not Father’s fault that we locked Him out.
B) This world is an afternoon mistake of an angry 3 y. o. Child Of Father. The correction of that mistake (our awakening back Home in His Arms) is inevitable. While on the way there, let’s not blame Father for OUR desire to chew on that poisonous apple because we wanted pain.
C) I keep on widening my channel with Father, and my life (and the lives of those around me) is changing. As I improve and strengthen my everyday relationship and connection with Father, it will get better for me and everyone around me. In other words, let’s see a bigger picture and fix the situation we created.
D) Meanwhile the only reasons for whining are stated above. Pain, health, food, shelter. Other than that, we do not have a right to open up our mouth about ANYTHING ELSE (insert your daily whine in here, what are you upset about?).
Instead, we strengthen our relationship with Father by daily (hourly!) communication, and THIS will soften our “ego-shell”, therefore allow Him to eventually get to ALL of our emotional aches and pains.
PRINCIPLE 17:
Make your emotional and mental channels unavailable for the ego to touch.
Train yourself to only and ever “open letters” from Father, and throw away all mail from “your” ego.
EXPLANATION:
Our EMOTIONAL and MENTAL channels are compromised, because they are exposed to “our” ego. It can play on our emotions like an insane monkey on a Stradivari. Imagine that! And it then twists you to use these channels to fight Father’s Help and Presence.
That breaks Father’s heart, to see His Child this way. So, the best way not to expose your emotions to a machine that is programmed to rip your soul apart is not to react to any negative external emotional stimuli.
Ego cannot cause you physical pain. Only emotional. Know it, remember it, be forewarned. Do not allow it to play you by offering you reasons to be upset (therefore disconnect) with God.
Once you feel the ego pressing you to listen to its “conclusions about how you’ve been wronged”, restore the Connection by looking into Father’s Face right above you.
You are dreaming a bad dream in which the ego twists facts and events to cast you as a victim. Father, however, is trying to turn your bad dreams into good ones.
Relax, and let Him by listening to Him, and not “your” ego. You will SEE His Love, and you will FEEL how really close to you He is, and has always been.
The ego is lying to you because you programmed it this way. There is no reason for emotional or mental pain. There never was. Hand it all to Father. Piece by tiny piece if you must. He will comfort you. He will take care of it.
PRINCIPLE 18: Move and think at a graceful pace that honors Father.
EXPLANATION: Getting you to move fast is one of ego’s paramount tasks. Imagines carousel. You are on it. Your parents stand just outside of it.
Imagine you are the one who has control over how fast the carousel goes - you have a pedal at your foot. If you go slowly, pushing the pedal slowly, you will be able to see your parents’ smiling faces moving by you as you turn around, past them.
Now, imagine, something urges you to keep on pressing on the pedal more and more, making the carousel go faster and faster, until you are completely nauseated, can barely hold on, and your parents’ faces now show panic and desperation, but they can’t take you off the carousel, and by now you are no longer capable of seeing or hearing them. All you hear is the voice in your head that says only one word: FASTER! Push it FASTER! And you do.
There is a certain inebriation in moving so fast, and also, defying your parents, and you might agree with the voice that presses you to move faster, because it promises “cool stuff ahead”, way better than being just a silly good kid.
But deep down inside you long to get back to your parents if only for the love, nourishment and protection they were giving you. The nourishment you will never receive on a dangerously fast moving carousel guided by a mechanical voice who’s origin you can’t even determine.
That’s pretty much what happened between us and Father. We got kidnapped by “our” ego, put on a fast moving carousel and told to push hard.
Except we were he ones who created the carousel, tied ourselves to it, drank poison to become susceptible to the voice on the tape recorder, and let it lead us away from the Parent.
But since it is IMPOSSIBLE for us to be away from God, all we could do is get trashed and get on a carousel. We pass Father’s very worried Face on every turn, but 13 bln yrs of this we no longer recognize Him, or even notice Him, preferring to believe that “God” is something either really far from us and very disconnected, or does not exist at all.
Some of us might even be happy with that, but ALL of us deep down inside really want to experience the Love and Nourishment of Father. We just don’t know how to get off the carousel, and we are no longer aware that it is us who keeps on making it go faster, because we are such obedient slaves to our useless, but precious egos.
So, the graceful pace that honors Father is a slow one.
Advantages of that:
Since we can’t get off the carousel yet, we must resist the voice that pushes us to go faster. It is the ego, tasked with hurting us more and more.
One way to hurt you more is to make you move too fast for God to be able to warn you of the upcoming danger. If only just one advantage of moving slow is to be able to receive messages from your concerned Parent, whose Face happens to move by you every time the carousel revolves. You can’t see Him at first, but once you KNOW He is there and He wants to help you, you start looking for His Face, while you are still on that darned carousel. He ALWAYS tries to scream and point for dangers for you.
However, you are moving too fast to see, and you are too drunk to remember that He is actually there. Remember, “your” ego is telling you God either does not care about you, or does not exist. Then, you’ve given up looking for His Messages, Signs, Miracles. But all you need to do is SLOW DOWN to begin the healing process of re-unification with Father.
PRINCIPLE 19: The main goal of the ego is to persuade you that you are better off SUFFERING ALONE. Getting you to suffer alone will make the ego-machine very happy, if at all applicable. No need to mention, whatever makes the ego happy, make you, everyone around you, AND Father very, very miserable.
EXPLANATION:
PRINCIPLE 20: The internal monologue and images you see on your “inner mental screen” are all part of the River Styx. We are not to engage the internal voice, we are not to listen, and especially we are not to respond.
EXPLANATION:
Your inner mental screen is compromised, because long ago (beginning at the age of two) you have made your mind available to “your” ego.
Long before you decided to crash to Level 1 (be born here), back on Level 99 (still awake, right after you got in that fateful fight with Father), you have unhinged your “Oculum” (your “mind’s eye”, as it were), from only and ever watching Father to your Oculum just hanging there, or jumping on a single spring back and forth, like an eye of a broken robot, springs and screws sticking out of it every which way. There was no other way for you to stop seeing Father, but to unscrew your eye out of its socket, basically.
The ego, being just a tape recorder, has no control over your unhinged Oculum. However, anything the Oculum’s attention falls on now, gets misinterpreted by the ego. Well, as you are now not just unhinged, but also drunk on the poison you took AFTER you created the ego-machine, unhinged your Oculum and fell under the chair.
Ego has no control over your “mind’s eye”, but it has the control of your mind. So It will get you to sift through the mental images and recordings of conversations until you are upset. Getting you upset over stuff - last, present, future - the ego does not care, as long as it reaches its results.
Why would it do that? Because sifting through the images and audio recordings in your mind to find what will upset you the most is part of ego’s job to keep you unhappy.
Engaging you in an internal dialogue/ go over images has two advantages for the ego.
First, by getting you to talk to yourself in your mind it distracts you from paying attention to Father. That by itself is harmful, if not disastrous, because Father needs to be in contact with you to be able to telegraph issues/difficulties ahead, what to be warned about. Ego can’t have that due to the fact that Father’s interference will make your pain less.
Second, it needs to drive you into unhappy thoughts/conclusions. Internal dialogue is the best way to achieve both goals.
PRINCIPLE 21
PRINCIPLE 22
PRINCIPLE 23
PRINCIPLE 24
PRINCIPLE 25
PRINCIPLE 26
PRINCIPLE 27
PRINCIPLE 28
PRINCIPLE 29
PRINCIPLE 30
PRINCIPLE 31
May be below the “Rant” skit.
PRINCIPLE :
It takes energy to do ANYTHING.
It takes energy to establish a relationship with God.
It also takes energy to perform various emotional actions. Ego gets us busy with powering these huge grid energy suckers:
Desire to control
Internal monologue (dialogue)
Worry,
talking
and strong negative emotions (fear being the leading one)
These are massive and completely unnecessary leaks of energy. If you manage to eliminate those, you can re-direct your energy to establish the connection with Father.
EXPLANATION:
If ego can get you to do any one of the above, your chances of getting a hold of God were just slashed badly.
Normally (that’s where I say that we forgot what NORMAL is) “our” ego can get us to experience all five at once, and pretty strongly. It is basically bleeding out of all your arteries at once and wondering why you are not feeling well.
The beginning of a relationship with God is looking for a way to patch these three holes first.
Trust is the bridge to God. I personally found it easier if every day I put another brick of trust to my Road To Father (or “weave one thread at a time”), which allows Father to stretch a thread-worth (or one brick worth) of Love and Reassurance to me, so I could use it to replace fear and worry.
Remember that you can’t “fight” worry or “get rid of” the fear any more than you can “fight” the darkness. Just turn on the light... You can only replace worry and fear with Love.
“Fighting” then is an ego-tactic. Ego is programmed (and determined, because it is s machine that does not know any better) to keep you from contacting God. Therefore keep you from receiving Love as a replacement for fear.
Now, you are left with only one choice: to “fight” fear, anxiety, worry and all that Jazz. These “dogs” are a natural consequence of not letting God warm up your soul.
By the end of this book you will be embarrassed about how much you remind a wild animal in the woods. Or, rather, a wild child who decided they will be better off alone in the jungle, rather than taken care of by their Parent. And so well we are doing in the jungle without God’s Help and Care that we think that intestinal worms (your worry), and poisonous snake bites (your fear), and attacks of predators in those woods (it is when anger floods your mind and you can’t see straight), all that is NORMAL now. We forgot what normal is. It is due to the fact that we refuse to admit, that “normal” can only be achieved through staying close to God.
Those who have suffered enough in the woods are welcome back into the Love and Light of Father’s House.
Those who have not are welcome to get back to their daily bitter struggle with everything in sight.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
BREAK INTO A RANT
2 weeks after he is no longer with... me...
{Will not stay here an hour past my mother’s funeral}
Clara to J: This raising moon is killing me. I hope Father finally takes me off this friggin’ carousel as soon as I’m done recording the Doctrine. Quickening in Copenhagen or not, but I want to go Home. And who cares about the Quickening. We were not invited, anyway. So, we check out.
J, looking through some hand-written notebooks: You can’t yet. You are not ready. Besides, who was teaching me that we are soldiers, Clara? Who told me with pride what a good soldier to Father Knyaz is? Now you are advocating AWOL and you want me to support you in that?
Clara, with a sign: Knyaz is not coming back. And I have constipation from hell. I’m afraid to end up in the ER again. And I’m already doing everything I can to prevent constipation. Fiber, oatmeal, laxatives. Still I have it. I just want it to be over with. All of it.
J, twisting a cigarette in his fingers: I know what you mean. But Father will reward us. Maybe even in this lifetime.
Clara, confidently: I know He will! In His Infinite Mercy He will REWARD us for running away from Him, and causing ourselves 13 bln yrs worth of damage, and causing Him so much heartache... That is His Amazing Grace.
J. nods, puts down the cigarette and instead gets himself a glass of wine. The Velvet Curtain, as if touched by a light breeze, moves in heavy, luxurious waves. The aroma of roses from behind it reaches our heroes’ noses.
Clara: It’s just the hour-to-hour existence away from Father that is most unbearable. At first I thought it was the environment, but then I moved to America, and still felt hollow and hurt inside.
Then I listened to the dumb ego-program, and THAT “all-knowing radio” told me it was because I was not famous.
But I knew the recording was twisted through the prism “see if (fame) tastes sweeter than God”. So I discarded that explanation. There is no way ANYTHING tastes sweeter than Father. I know all that, and I face my own weakness: I can’t carry on without Him another minute, but I’m asked to go on, possibly, for another 20 years or so. Basically, into where no amount of THC is enough to deal with day-to-day emotional pain of Separation.
J drinks his wine, staring at Clara: I really want to get to know you. I will not leave you unless I’m called off.
Clara, nodding and hugging J. : I’m not going to send you away unless you are called off. We are going to work it out. In the absence of Knyaz I’ll make a star out of you! Granted Father will give us funds. We will make my Andromeda thing into a movie. You will be Sardonyx Eridani.
J. nods with a smile.
Clara: It is a rewarding and a versatile role! Millions will fall in love with you!
J. pours Clara a glass of wine, trying to catch her eyes: You don’t believe any of this, do you?
Clara takes the glass from him, downs it in one gulp and tears start streaming out of her eyes almost immediately: No. That’s out of my control. But I do have a plan. A plan that is actually MINE TO CONTROL. A plan to end all my pain, forever. Russian does not take a dump without a plan. I think you’ve learned that from your mother!
J. raises his hand in objection: I don’t know what I learned from my mother! The jury is still out on that one.
Clara, nods: Ok! I did not realize there was an issue there.
J: Isn’t it always?
Clara, shrugs: Maybe Hugh Jackman would be the right guy to ask!
J. pours Clara more wine: I know you think that the “chosen ones”, or the “lucky ones” live a LIFE, and everyone else lives a lie. Right now you feel like the second category. And I know your “plan”. You want to kill yourself on the day your mother dies, because she is the only one who you feel responsible for.
Clara nods with much satisfaction, drinking from the glass, now slower: Yes. And God willing there should be not more than 10 years left in the old girl. That means I’ll be out by 55 on good behaviour, as it goes. So, it is in our best interest to take the best care of His Majesty while we can, because I’m not staying here an hour past my mother’s funeral. Well, I’ll register Merion’s kid in my Moscow apartment, but these would be “happy labours”. Then I will know that I will kill myself the day I get back to the USA.
J: So, it’s back to that? This is what gets you through the day, just like you used to be? “I can always kill myself tomorrow”?
Clara: You sound like James from my diaries.
J, with a heated feeling: I read your diaries!
Clara, coming close to her new friend, and hugging him: Justin, what do you want? H.M. is a good man, but he is godless and he treats me like shit.
Knyaz was my ONLY love and joy in this world. Knyaz will not be joining us anymore, and after a 3 year affair I’m told to forget about it, because he was, regretfully, a “wrong key” in my piano. And vice versa. Vice versa hurts especially bad, because God is the witness, I turned into a pretzel to please him. And now he is gone.
What would you have me do? I went back to my old bone. I will kill myself within the next 10 years. 5, if I’m lucky. Either with smoking, poor eating habits, or with a gun, but I’ll do it. There is no more reason to carry on while grinding your teeth. I was grinding them FOR HIM. Now that he is gone, I literally fell on my face, feeling nothing. He was my feet, he was my hands and he was my heart.
J, trying to look like he is unmoved: What about the movie?
Clara: What movie? Are you kidding me? There never was any ghost of a movie I will make. Because I will never get out of the indentured servitude. Not that I did not have it coming!!
What we have is a mountain of debts to pay, and I know I deserve every bit of it. That, and my promise to take care of H.M. and deliver him to Father.
Other than bitter indentured servitude with a master who will not give you what is yours unless you push him and demand it, and with the master who takes what he thinks you owe him, it’s back to normal operations here.
Welcome to my world. My only love was taken from me. My heart is full of fear, and my stomach is filled with rocks, all over again. Get ready to jump up at the crack of the whip no matter what you are doing! Even if you are working on his PREVIOUS ORDER, he will still yell at you, because he’s got more for you and you are not working fast enough. Will you help me carry my cross?
J. puts his glass of wine on the floor with tears in his eyes: Yes.
Clara: Thank you. Please, tell me more about “Arian parade” of Hollywood. I mean, you actually KNOW some of these self-absorbed bitches, let’s kick them together! If nothing else, we can always burn these motherfucking fat cats in effigy! Which of them, on your opinion, gets the best offers and roles, makes the most money, but deserves it the least?
J, shakes his head: Clara, this is not a good idea! What do you want me to do? Throw rocks at Jennifer Gardner because she makes more money than me?! You are falling to the whisperings of “your” ego!
Clara rolls a joint and then sobs into her hands: I don’t care about any of them, frankly. The LOVE, the feeling that I had for Knyaz, it is now gone. Three years together! We signed papers! We signed them IN FRONT OF FATHER! We signed them with sweat, blood, tears and every other bodily liquid we could find!
Clara casts a glance at J. through her wine-filled glass, and that glance is suddenly and starkly devoid of any emotion: I thought this was going to be forever...
She releases a hoarse scream, as J. watches her intently. Clara, then, pours some pink liquid into a small glass: 10 - 15 mg of Diphenhydramine every few hours will help you smoke less because the drug will make you into a walking zombie. A friendly house elf. A loyal slave you can do whatever you want with. Try it, it works! Just don’t OD. 100 mg a day max.
{she stretches her hand with a glass to J, but he turns away with a stern face).
Clara, continues, having finished the medicine: The point is, Nathaniel, the bitches who have money, they have freedom. When you don’t have that, you sell yourself to a highest bidder and become an indentured servant for life.
But, also, remarkably, in order to become a slave, there is no need for such financial gymnastics. Every single member of my family was a slave to something. Both my mother and my grandmother slaved their whole life for their families, me in particular. And I took them for granted. Now, I must pay my dues to them.
You also know I will die in indentured servitude to H. M. with no chance of parole. But it is because I spent 16 years neglecting him and my family duties because I’d rather pursue my writing career. I had no right to do that, because my “writing career” was not contributing to the family budget in the least.
J, saying it as if he is not sure, but compelled: Guilty as charged, then?
Clara, brightening up for once: Yes, thank you very much! But you see, I will decide when the sentence is over. My mother is the only responsibility I can’t walk away from. And she is, luckily, already 80 years old with a lot of health issues and high blood pressure. While Zeidi is only 63. Even if he goes first, I still can’t check out and leave her here to dry. I must support her to her last day, and I will.
J: What if something good happens? Something that will change your mind?
Clara: What? Someone will show up here with 50 million dollars and say: “Here, bitch, now you can make a movie out of your stupid book!” Right? That will happen? Sober up, Nathaniel. We both will die in pain and obscurity. But, apart from you, chicken, I will decide WHEN. Put “way” back in Hemingway!
J. now stares at a distance and pours himself a shot of whiskey.
Clara, somewhat surprised: I never took you for a hard liquor drinker.
J, wiping his mouth with his sleeve: Yeah, down the hatch. {gives Clara an unfocused look} Neither did I! But, frankly, listening to you...
Clara, noticing the rug at their feet that was not there a minute ago and feeling the medicine kicking in: Oh, who gives a damn, J! Come, sit with me!
J. is more than happy to join her on the rug. And he is surprised at that feeling within.
Clara, hugging J. : Yes, the train of fame will never stop in our town, but at least neither of us is stuck at a job we hate.
J: Speak for yourself, please. {thinks of how far he had fallen}: We need a motto for our little self-pity committee.
Clara: Oh, I know! “Honor above ego”. How’s that? Let’s at least TRY the right thing.
J, taking Clara’s hand into his: That works.
For a while they sit there with the Velvet Curtain moving smoothly in waves behind them.
J. : What if we ARE invited to the Quickening? And, say, your mother dies? And you kill yourself a year... a month before you are to be called to the Quickening, where you truly be happy to speak on behalf of Father?
Clara, thinks about it for a second: Maybe. And I agree that I’m wrong for putting time frames on this whole event. I just can’t carry on anymore. Because in order to take it in the ass, you need to be in love.
Otherwise it’s rape. The same action could be a reward, or a punishment. Go figure.
I always feel like the latter. Not enough love! Therefore I’m unhappy, therefore I feel like a victim. So, right now, as you see, I shamefully let the ego talk me into taking a stance that I know hurts myself, everyone around me, AND Father. Because my internal balance is low on Love. Like a phone with low battery!
Now, come closer to me and maybe we will be able to resurrect that Protocol Of Love that Knyaz and I ran so successfully. Because the only time I did not feel like a victim no matter what he did, did not, said, or said not, was with Knyaz. Would you like to know how to build Stairway To Heaven?
J. Nods with more anticipation than skepticism: Yes, I would. For what it’s worth!
Clara: Oh, believe me, when you fall in love with me, it will be worth everything to you. I also must love you back for it to work.
J., raising his chin in a challenging way: Oh yeah? I can’t wait!
Clara, pushing him gently on the rug: Now, will you give yourself to me as my trusted and lovely slave?
J., moving himself away indignantly: What? Are you kidding me? After everything you just said?! I’m not crazy!
Clara: Ahem, Nathaniel, these are not the lines. What are your lines? Was that shot of whiskey too much for you?
J., frowns, shakes his head, somewhat embarrassed: Oh, you mean, the lines of my character? Sure. “Yes, I will give myself to you as your lovely slave and a trusted... um... friend. Friend will do here, I guess.
Clara: That’s better. Now say it like you mean it! J., you are an actor for the Love of God! I need your excellent acting skills! Blacklist, General Ludd, happa-happa! {snaps her fingers while laying on top of J.}
J, moving restlessly underneath Clara, as if suffocating in Clara’s tight embrace: Acting?!! This is for real!
Clara, not listening to him anymore:
I’m beginning to determine the edges of our unhappiness! Praise Father, I think I see a way out! The Tribes Of Phallos Verdes! Another chance at happiness!
J., rolling his eyes as he turns to the camera that is lowering itself to the floor level: She just fried me!
The Velvet Curtain moves, and Melekh Shel Zahav comes in.
Clara jumps off J., who gets up and dusts himself with a terrified expression.
Melekh: What did you do to my fine man?
Clara rushes into Melekh’s warm embrace: Father! I roughed him up a tad! Sorry! But I do not want to scare him away. I want to make him happy! Please teach me how.
Melekh, motioning for J. to come up, and hugs him, too: Everything is going to be alright, you guys!
J. relaxes, and Clara calms down so close to Father.
Melekh: My lost Jewels, welcome back to My Crown! Everything is going to be alright in your dreams now, because you are already with Me! Your arduous journey is over! All your dreams will come true very soon, because that’s what I want. What I want is to make you happy, so you’d WANT to come back to Me!
Clara to J., exhaling in utmost relief: Screw fame! We are almost Home! I can smell the Eden Garden roses from here!
J., loving Father’s warming embrace: You know what, maybe I overreacted. I’m not afraid of you. Or our intimacy. I will give myself to you. I know you will take care of me. And I want to take care of you.
Clara: Always! And you know what? I said bad things about Hollywood fat cats. I was frozen inside. Father has melted me now. I want them all to be happy. Them AND my sister.
Melekh Shel Zahav: Atta kids! Now, what do you want for breakfast?
SHADOWS AND SMOKE
MY CONSOLATION
By Samuel.
“B-but Melekh, what do I know?” I resist slightly as Melekh dictates “A Letter To Krista.”
Krista. My Krista. She is now my Krista. She agreed to come into my reality.
“Write, write to that rebellious girl!” Melekh sighs then deeply. “But I Love her, I love my Queen! I just want her back. All of you, I want you back. No matter who you think you are now, you are My Child. And I want you back!”
I look into Melekh’s Face and know that He only makes it look like He can turn it into some show. He can’t, until He awakens every single one of us. I know that much.
“Dear Lapulya,” Melekh begins, and I write. “Please do not growl over here. This is how long it took for Me and My Team to put back together just one of your former protocols. Yes, it feels AWESOME to have one of your databases back, and you wish you had it LAST THURSDAY, but remember...”
“Yeah, remember, you little bitch, that you shattered yourself to smithereens...” Runs through my mind as I write down after Melekh on a piece of Christmas wrapping paper I found under the Christmas tree while Krista went to the bathroom.
“... remember that you shattered yourself into myriads of pieces so small that no one would even suspect that this mess was ever a whole.”
Yes, that’s what happened that memorable afternoon in the Eden Garden. I’m even afraid to think loudly about it. Because now I know the truth.
Remember “X-Files”? “Truth is out there”? Well, we may have just found where. And I can’t say a word. Krista needs time to mature away from the public eye she craves so. “Englishman In New York”... Yeah, I’ll let you do me under the Verozano Bridge.
“Nathaniel...”
I need a new stage name. Something that will no one suspect is me. Please assure me that no one will ever find these records!
“Nathaniel,” Melekh places his heavy, but always kind Hand on my sweating shoulder. “No one will find these records, but persons approved by Me. Please finish the note before she comes back from the bathroom. And she is the one who must give you a new name.”
“Therefore, Lapulya, please be patient. And, oh, K made it back alright, no, you will not be “lost in a black chute after separation from your physical body”, and yes, future is bright even as right now you are laying in tears on the bathroom floor because you think that I forgot about you, My Queen, My Diva!”
I finish writing all of it down, and feel how my extremities warm up in the Presence Of Father. His light and warmth are not like the fire over here. His Presence IS rapture.
I try to put what I feel into words, as Melekh is going through shelves and shelves of Krista’s diaries that He is accessing at His House while being here with us on Level 2.
“She has a lot to say.” I mumble, unsure if I can interrupt Him in His studies.
“I have a lot to say, too.” Melekh lifts a 4 pound diary off the floor, and puts it back on the shelf. And that was just for one particular month. “I have a lot to say about how My Hand ran away from Me on one particular afternoon, and declared independence from Me. And made Me look for her in the closet. She locked herself up, too.”
It sounds funny, but it was not funny. 13 bln yrs, all along it was not funny. The only consolation we all have is that this afternoon is not over yet. And Father vowed to get His Precious Hand back before it is over.
And I have nothing to add to it. But for gratitude that I was chosen to be here. I really still do not know why.
But Krista comes back from the bathroom. Melekh disappears behind the Velvet Curtain.
“Are you recreating “Romeo and Juliet” on a piece of wrapping paper?” She murmurs into my ear as she lowers herself to me and runs her cold, wet finger along my neck.
Yes, right. Maybe that’s what I should do. Why is her finger so wet? Oh, she came from the bathroom.
“What’s with the Christmas tree?” She wonders.
It was not there when she left. I added it to the props while she was out. I decided to see how much creative leeway I have here.
Krista switches her attention back to me. Apparently I have quite a bit of leeway.
SHADOWS AND SMOKE
MY CONSOLATION
By Samuel
Krista and Samuel will have their own Fall Memorandum.
“One. Krista and Samuel will be together until Father decides otherwise.”
I have one to add, too.
“Two. Samuel will always worship Krista and will follow all of her orders.”
She nods to me and makes a cute face. She does not believe a word I’m saying. I’m yet to prove my loyalty to her.
“Three. Krista and Samuel are to serve H.M. most ardently.”
That’s what i’m here for. Help her with her oldest.
PRINCIPLES:
PRINCIPLE 1: Father only and ever brings good news. Never bad.
EXPLANATION: You might think I’m full of shit, but by the end of the Doctrine I will prove this Postulate beyond any doubt.
PRINCIPLE:
Ego’s main goal is to persuade you to suffer alone. It will spare no expense to drive you there, to make sure that you are alone, even when you are surrounded by others.
PRINCIPLE: Ego makes you switch your Path from “Happy” to “Painful” when you decide to decide for yourself. The happiest are those who let others do their ego’s most coveted job: deciding for you where you should go. Don’t let your ego send you to a crazy chase. Let God show you how beautiful life of loyalty can be.
“THIS PIECE IS CLOSED. I took a picture of loose Principles above to move them upwards, above my convos with Samuel. Samuel, my sweet consolation. I will love and cherish him like I did K., and should we part ways, Father will give me notice and someone else to hold tight. I got it. Happy now. Love is the best. Drink on that I no longer want fame.
I no longer want fame? Jeez. I wish I could frame that and put it on the wall on a piece of golden paper.
It is my ego that wants a lot of money, a successful performing career and... being an Englishman in New York. A loner with lots of money and no obligations.
The ego’s idea of happiness. Wait a minute, have I found the last sheet of poison on my Oculum? An Englishman in New York. So attractive, so unavailable, desirable image of “happiness ego-style”.
Ego only and ever causes pain. What must I do to “peel” this off from my mental eye? These “transparencies” are NOT my real desires! I glued transparencies on my Oculum, so, when I woke up on poison, not remembering Father, I, then, would believe that the transparencies I saw were my REAL desires.l. But these would be the desires of the Last Mask.
The desires I was supposed to fulfill. I get it.”
Krista suddenly gets up from the table and rushes to me, on the couch.
“Samuel! I figured out the last, most painful piece! My desire to be “An Englishman in New York” is just a transparency, suggesting things to chase that MIGHT replace Father!”
I get up and let her hug me, and then cuddle on my chest.
“So, if we both admit that we want nothing but to Love and serve Father, and it is the sweetest thing of all, then, theoretically, we should both drop dead out of Level 1.”
“And how silly of a desire that is, granted that “New York” is made out of Father’s stolen energy, and the “Englishman” uses brainpower to write songs that made him famous. Where does the power from his brain come from, right? Hello... How hard is it to see.”
She nods, and we stare into the fire for a while.
“We are not going to drop dead out of Level 1 until we deliver the Doctrine.” She says sadly. “Sometimes I honestly don’t know how much of this I can take. I miss Father with every cell of my body. Nothing can replace His Warmth. And His Immediate Presence”.
“Yes, but we are soldiers.” I remind her. “Didn’t you want to be in the Legion of Light?”
She nods solemnly and gets up. “Thank you. Helping Father first. Serving Him here is what He needs from us right now! He gave us everything!”
FILTERS THROUGH WHICH YOU CAN SIFT BIBLE, to see what God really said/did and what was later distorted by people.
MAIN FILTER I:
Little Johnny has cancer. Can you call him a “sinner” for getting cancer?
Thank you.
Father never called anyone a sinner. Only “my sick, little, most beloved child.” Sift Bible through that first. That will answer 70% of your questions and will calm down plenty of anger so many people feel towards God.
MAIN FILTER II:
Ego’s best kept secret is the fact that you are a Part if God as much as your hand is a part of you. This is the filter that removes every notion of “punishment” from the Bible. Now, every time you think God is planning to punish you, or “has punished” someone else, try to punish your own hand for dropping a cup of coffee. This ridiculous illustration should put an end to that ego-lie.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
CLAUSES:
RELIC (I took the Clause, converted it into POSTULATE, and this is here so that “Way Of Action” does not hang in the air:
Fear is outlawed as a useless waste of energy, for Father knows everything and will take care of everything.
WAY OF ACTION: Relax and look up to Father (as opposed to tighten up and look down to the ego, which will force you to drink a mug of boiling fear).
RELIC:
All health issues are to be recorded on the Photo Stream. Father will review and deal with that.
WAY OF ACTION: Give Father TIME to help you (as opposed to looking down for ego’s advice, which will force you to panic RIGHT AWAY).
RELIC:
No resisting H.M. at any time for any reason. Resistance is a stance much enjoyed and desired by the ego program, because it causes you pain in 100% of the time.
No arguing with H.M. for any reason, or resisting him. If an argument can’t be avoided, we lay down in second round.
Always warn Knyaz, Father, when you feel ego-caused anger and resentment coming on. These are the poisons that will cause disobedience. Once you let them know as soon as possible, you burst the “bubble of poison” the ego forces you to prepare to unload on H.M. Protecting him from ego-attacks is our main task and concern.
RELIC F:
All external/ incoming links are to be submitted Knyaz for consideration. Knyaz is the hub between me and Father, between me and H.M.
RELIC G:
Especially the links that contain a call to quick action, or an ego-call “it’s time to take poison”.
RELIC : All repeating signals are outlawed, unless it is Father.
RELIC H:
Ego-prisms are still on, distorting my intel about anything I see or hear. No action is to be taken based on that faulty intel, until it is submitted to Knyaz, Father for sorting and consideration.
RELIC I : Ego-program is blind and it does not know anything. It’s task, however, is to keep you scared at the very least. So it is insane to listen to its mutterings of doom. Everything it says is a lie. It desperately grasps at the straw to follow through with the Last Mask’s orders (your orders before you fell asleep under it) to get you to take the poisons to keep your dreams negative. Knowing that, we tune it out completely.
RELIC: When you find yourself tense, with your back hunched and mumbling to your thoughts - you are listening to “your” ego. It is a 100% road to pain, desperation, anger, resentment, self-pity, fear. But don’t panic that you found yourself looking for a reason to get high on these dangerous drugs while Father “can’t see you”. It’s ok to give in to the weakness due to momentum. Now you KNOW it’s wrong. Just SEE Father’s beautiful and loving face right above yours, stuck in a bad dream. He is taking care of all your wounds, aches and pains as you lay in His arms. Just BE WITH HIM, not the ego-machine. Tune out the ego-mumbling (what you experience as “your thoughts”), and tune in to Father’s words of Love and encouragement.
NOTES FOR CLAUSES A, B, C, D:
No more worries about health.
Coughing, kidneys, eyes and anything else that might come up: Father will take care of it all.
IF NOT: First, He WILL HELP.
But I had to put in the “what if” clause, because this is exactly what the ego-program will offer. Shame on me for taking its advice - I never cared about this body anyway. Why start now? Everyone I ever cared to impress thought me a fuckup all along. If I died within the next few years of a kidney infection, it will not make any difference ever, for anyone. It will devastate H.M., yeah.
All the database that I am is backed up to Father’s facilities and my physical death will not affect His work.
The habit of arguing about the smallest issues, insisting on my way of doing things IS CATERING TO THE EGO-PROGRAMMING. The ego needs that to hurt you further. It WILL use your loose tongue against you to upset and damage everyone involved. Knowing that this is exactly what will happen and still falling to that bait is shameful at this stage of our Awakening.
Violation of these Clauses strains Father and makes Knyaz unhappy. If I’m trying to make “my” ego happy again, I must remember the first 40 days of this arduous journey, where I tried everything to please my ego, and got cold silence for a thank you after every single incredible achievement Father helped me accomplish!
In other words: Stop listening to the ego-program that will push fiercely to do it “my way”. There is no “my way” but Father’s Way. His Will is relayed to you via your elders. H.M. is my elder. I must respect him. It’s that simple. Everything else leads into pain. This is where the ego-program is meant to lead you. Why still be at it? The new way of thinking.
Therefore, we must outlaw the “my way is the best” thinking, and start relying solely on H.M.’s wise advice, to avoid painful situations that my resistance leads to.
ARTICLE 1:
We hereby decide to be as innocent, law abiding and long-lasting as possible to see why we did not get the best prize this time.
Innocent and law-abiding, so I could later say that I behaved, did everything I was told, and the best way I knew how, and I still was passed over for promotion.
Long-lasting, so no one could say, oh, the reward was coming your way, you just did not last/ held on for long enough, or was not patient/resilient enough.
FALL MEMORANDUM STIPULATIONS:
STIPULATION 1: Everything that I think I am is FATHER. Therefore, He will take care of all my physical needs/issues.
STIPULATION 2: Everything that I think I own is also FATHER. He will take care of where I live and what I eat.
STIPULATION 3: In any event, a compromised physical or material position is never the grounds to turn away, stop obeying Father in everything at all times.
STIPULATION 4: When under attack, GO LIMP to slip out of an argument, or a fear you can’t disable right away. “I don’t care what happens” attitude makes you neutral, therefore hard for the ego to force you into a conflict.
NOTES FOR STIPULATIONS 1, 2, 3, 4:
NOTE: In other words, a patient with a gunshot wound DOES NOT run away from the doctor. We stay, we get help.
NOTE 2: In simpler terms, we do not allow the ego-programming to use misunderstanding and communication failures as a way to break your trust with Father, therefore forcing you back into cold, dark enclosure under the control of the ego-machine.
Whatever happens, will be OK with Father. It is that simple. There is no need to go back to “your” ego, no matter what. There is nothing “to come back to”. It’s a tape recorder.
Because the tape-recorder does not know anything, is blind and is programmed to hurt you. It also does not love you, because it was never programmed for that.
Father knows EVERYTHING, He can see EVERYTHING, He wants to make you absolutely happy. And He loves you more than anything.
You are the only One He’s got.
He is here to help you wake up from your cold, heavy, unforgiving dreams of late, dictated by the tape-recorder that is made to comment on the events on your screen to force you to see negative no matter what is going on.
“Love, Instruction, Consolation, Promise - are the four things, Four Main Cornerstones that form two triangles, on which we are to build our Faith. Ego cannot give you any one of these. And you need these “pieces” to successfully build yourself, strengthen yourself and make yourself happy while awaiting the Awakening.”
Krista writes after Melekh, while I watch them. And can’t help but flash back to the first, and the only time I met Krista in “real” life. Now we know this is all a dream, but not then.
I did not know it then. She was a woman I admired. I loved her and I would have given my life for, if my life was worth anything to her. To HER.
It was in Saint Petersburg, in 1700s. I was a poor student, and she was... She was everything that could arouse the passions of a self-reliant, politically (and sexually) active young man.
“Ok, I got that, Father. Now I badly need a patch for H.M. I need it, like, in an hour.”
Melekh, from around the Velvet Curtain, because He is in another dimension now: “Take your Love for Samuel,
My Instruction,
Samuel’s Consolation,
My Promise.
It will make it easier with H.M.
Krista gets busy writing down. To me: “Samuel, come here. We need to write a code of Unity. From you, my Love, I need...”
She whispers something, staring into my eyes. Yes, my blue Danish eyes. Is that what ushered me in? My Danish eyes?
“Incantation 13 of Unconditional Spell Of Love. I need access to my files! Argh! I can’t see Magnificat. And it contains all the spells that I need to get the first triangle going. Samuel? How do you console me? What do you do?”
Oh, now I lost my last resolve. To be a slave to a witch. Not a bad one, but a good witch. The God-obeying witch... A beautiful middle-aged woman, such a popular actress, my love, my eternal love.
I get ready to burst in tears, because her carriage used to pass by my windows. So one day, it was in winter. A cold winter in St.Petersburg... I saw her carriage yet again, and I jumped out in front of it, so stupidly.
“Samuel!” Krista’s voice makes me cringe inside, and yet all I want is to submit to her.
So I fall to my knees. Because that’s how I would console her, please her, love her. By offering myself to her wholeheartedly. By becoming her slave forever.
Krista has mercy on us both, she stops the recording, and we look into the material greedily.
Krista: Ok, so you jumped out in front of her kareta, right on this sloshy mostovaya.
I nod, because I do not like her tone. And here it is, I knew it, the whip.
“This is the most deranged story I heard in my life!” She is somewhat frustrated, looks at her black watch from Walmart: “We have less than an hour less, and this is all you have? Well, as for the subject matter... I would have never in my life...”
Yes, because it was not your life. But I enjoy that whip, because I’m just a masochist. Father, please, do not let anyone find these records.
Krista is straightforward, because she needs the code, and she does not have any time for my bullshit: “Fine, then. Here we go: “Take your love for Samuel,
My Instruction,
Samuel’s Consolation,
My Promise.”
She stops as she hears a car drive by. “Father, please not him yet, we are NOT ready!”
I embrace her legs while still on my knees. I loved her. So much. To her now, it’s just a stupid story. So, some young guy threw himself at her feet. Big deal. But I never married. I only and ever loved her. How do I express that now? Now, when she does not believe a word I say?
“My Love for Samuel. I love Samuel the way I loved K, which is now an established protocol and a golden standard.” Krista mumbles as she moves Sigils into the necessary picture. “Here we go. Next. Father’s Instruction. But which one?”
She looks at me. I haven’t been studying The Doctrine for very long. And Fall Memorandum is not written yet at the time of this transmission. But I do come up with one: “Please His Majesty any way he wants”.
She lights up and looks for the fourth piece.
“Father’s Promise, Samuel?”
“I Will Take Care Of All Your Needs” I respond with the first one that comes to mind. They are ALL good, His Promises. They are true, too.
“This is what we have, then, for the two triangles:
My Love for Samuel is very strong.
Father’s orders are to take care of His Majesty any way he wants.
Samuel consoles me by giving himself up to me fully. He wishes he could do it 300 years ago. I wish we never made a mistake of locking ourselves in the closet and getting drunk away from Father IN THE FIRST PLACE... Then we would not have to jump in front of carriages that carry some famous actresses...”
She gets carried away.
“We are adding Regret into this vine, my Queen”. I say and know that she might slap me for this comment, when we are pressed for time and resources. “This will certainly make the drink bitter.”
I wish she slapped me. I wish she had the courage and the conviction to put me back in my place.
“You are right.” Her gaze does not glaze when she homes in on a goal like a laser!
“OK, then:
My Love for Samuel
“Serve His Majesty” is Father’s Order.
Samuel’s Consolation: He gives himself to me wholeheartedly and forever.
Father says: “I will Take Care Of All Your Needs”.
“Got it.” I nod, while I really did not get it. Poetry Of Spells is something I never studied. But would have loved to.
“I’ve got the code!” Krista nods to Father. “With 40 minutes to spare.”
Which fly by really fast on Level 2, unfortunately.
“So, What is your role in all this?” She asks me confidently. She likes to be on top of things.
“It is whatever role you wish to give me.” I respond, finally confidently too, because I think I figured out how to play here.
But instead of grabbing the whip and... Oh, Krista looks at the Velvet Curtain. She must, too. We never know when we go rogue mid sentence.
As if feeling it (and, of course, He is here even when we can’t see Him), Melekh appears from around the Curtain, and whispers something into her ear. Then he leaves, and I’m confused.
I want to talk about how I met her for the first time. Some more of that. How stupid I felt afterwards, acting like that in front of a small crowd of neighbors. They never stopped talking about it for a year, or longer. But I did not care.
“What did He say?” I ask quietly into her legs as I’m still on my knees in front of her.
I hope He said it was ok to go on forever worshipping her here.
“What did he say?” I repeat, and I know that she feels my hot whisper on her knee.
“He said “cut”. Krista lifts my unshaven face by placing her warm fingers underneath my chin. “We can’t be taking up this frequency like this every day.”
And we cut out of air.
Even as I fall from Level 2, I hold on to the Woman Of My Dreams. Such a sophisticated lady. Very famous, very intelligent.
And completely unavailable.
THIS LEGISLATION IS IN THE WORKS. Once I realized where pain is coming from (it comes from taking ego-advice), I must eradicate it by being pleasing to H.M. This makes Knyaz happy. Therefore, this makes Father happy. And these are solid prerequisites for my own happiness (our happiness with Knyaz, for he and I are ONE).
NOTE TO REMEMBER, TO AVOID PAIN AT ALL TIMES:
The ego-programming first needs to break you away from Father before it can proceed to ravaging your soul with poisons of fear, resentment, etc.
Its main tactic in doing that is targeting your TRUST IN FATHER.
Only then can it proceed to follow the Last Mask’s orders (your orders before you fell asleep to here) to destabilize you.
It need to force you to build distance with Father, so He could not help you. It does it through poisons, mainly fear.
Fear is the easiest to get you to take. In fact, you guzzle if by the gallon all by yourself at the slightest provocation. It goes like this “What if?”.
The reason you came here, to Earth, was to have a reason to taste those poisons. At Home, with Father, there were no reasons for any of the poisons. That is why you ran away. Hence, this Universe.
The ego-program’s main strategy to destabilize an already faithless (therefore defenseless) victim is giving you a reason to move fast.
Once you move fast, you become stressed. Therefore weak, and vulnerable to the ego-advice to take the poison of fear, anger, desperation or self-pity for maladies and events.
Those could have easily been fixed by Father’s Love and interference, if you have not kicked Him out of your life, when ego-program persuaded you to lose trust in Father.
Therefore, you are struggling in the noose of your own creation (because you have allowed the ego-programming (The Dark Side) to take over your love for Father).
Those who have suffered enough can continue reading. Those who have not, pls get back to your daily routine.
Back to poisons. Fear is the main one. But how do I not drink the poison of fear when I do clearly have a lump in my throat that threatens to suffocate me? How can I not live in fear of something wrong being there?
We can use STIPULATIONS 1, 2, 3 of FALL MEMORANDUM
FALL MEMORANDUM
SAFETY NET (Interface):
RED
Dorilin Spice (Ruwarb)
Kriagir Edible spice ( E. Ruwarb)
Mlaste Sweets / Chewing gum
Isvakar. Cigarette / Sunflower seeds
Tisaver. Hot tea with honey
Datarmira Perfume / Wine
PURPLE
Dorilin Call Father, See Him Right away
Kriagir Stabilization 3 Hz
Mlaste Soft and Obedient
Isvakar Seek Knyaz to reinforce connectio
Tisaver Jump on “Time Train” (any record)
Datarmira Straighten up your back
WHITE
Dorilin Look at watch - when’s Holy Time?
Kriagir Have you taken all the medication?
Mlaste Pay attention to H.M., is he ok?
Isvakar Don’t argue, do what you are told.
Tisaver Go limp. Change color to “neutral”.
WORDS THAT COME TO ME IN DREAMS:
“Ruwarb”
The context I heard was: He uses it / walks by “ruwarb”.
Clara sits by Father’s feet, staring in front of herself. Justin sits on the floor behind Clara, wishing he could record everything happening to him here.
Melekh Shel Zahav, leaning against the Velvet Curtain: I need to harden you, Clara, for future tests of your faith, My Love.
Clara nods, crumpling in her hands the blue nightgown, an empty pack of cigarettes, and a bottle-opener ring.
Father: Believe Me, I miss him way more than you.
Clara wants to break down, but Justin holds her by her shoulders. She finds comfort in his warm embrace.
There is a whisper behind the Velvet Curtain, and Father s momentarily distracted by responding to it.
Clara, turning to Justin, her lips quivering: Will you be my Valentine?
Justin: Um...
Clara to Knyaz, showing him a piece of paper: Look what I found. I remember recording it, too.
The paper reads:
“Article 1 of FALL MEMORANDUM: We hereby decide to be as innocent, law-abiding and as long-lasting as possible, to see why we did not get the best prize this time.
Innocent and law-abiding so we could later say: well, I behaved the best way I knew how, and I did everything I was told, and I was still passed over for promotion.
And long-lasting, so that no one could say “oh, the reward was coming your way, you just were not patient or resilient enough”.
Clara to Knyaz, who sits on a chair with a bottle of beer, and a cigarette, unshaven, and absorbed in his own torment, whispering someone’s name over and over again.
Clara drops the Memorandum from “her” ego, and listens to Knyaz’s whisperings. Upon hearing whose name he chants, she begins to cry.
Soft footsteps and sounds of fabric being moved come from the Velvet Curtain.
Clara looks there only to see Lord Ben coming from around it. He too, smokes a cigarette.
Clara’s eyes grow wide with surprise, she wipes her tears with a sense of renewed joy: What are YOU doing here?
Lord Ben, unrebuffed: I’ve asked you to hold my seat, haven’t I?
Clara nods, too excited to speak.
Knyaz, without lifting his head, falls to his knees among the ring-ding of the abandoned and rolling bottle. It is unclear if he tries to greet Lord Ben, or just passes out due to the amount of alcohol consumed.
Clara exhales sharply, then confidently walks to Knyaz, picks him up, dusts him lovingly and folds him inside of herself, to Lord Ben: Please forgive my slave, he is shocked to see you in person again.
Lord Ben nods, inhales the cigarette fumes deeply, while staring at nothing in particular.
Clara, breaks the awkward silence: What are you smoking? “Pale Male”? Boring, as ever...
Lord Ben’s face remains untouched, while Knyaz groans from Clara’s cozy insides.
Clara, lowering her head and talking into her left armpit: I know, Krotkie, no jokes with Lord Ben, but this one is not about Prince Phillip’s private parts now!
Lord Ben gives away nothing, but looks down on the floor, where Clara dropped the piece of paper.
Lord Ben: What’s this?
Clara, now catering to Knyaz within her, washing him, changing him into the blue pajamas, brushing his hair, making sure his feet are not cold, putting him to bed: Oh, that was the darned Memorandum “my” ego made me write down. And I personally don’t care anymore if we’re going to get any f...
(Knyaz inside of her moans, and Clara changes her vocab midstream)
Clara, with a sigh: ... if we’re going to get any prize or not. My goal right now is to give this man maybe some (talks louder, bending her head into her chest) PALLIATIVE CARE... (looks up at Lord Ben). Because he is drinking himself cleanly out to death here.
And as for myself, i will never make it to any promotion. At the moment, I wish to just NOT end up with a kidney infection. Today I had pain from hell in my back. That was a ba-ad omen. With my chronic bladder infection the kidney infection is only a matter of time. It starts with such back pain.
So, all in all, I’m just shooting for a simple goal of not to be in a medical crisis. I mean, like, almost every day... As for the prize... (she shrugs nonchalantly). Probably by then neither one of us will be in any shape to receive it. So fuck it.
Lord Ben finishes the cigarette, and picks up Knyaz’s bottle.
Clara watches in astonishment as Lord Ben drinks the remnants of the beer from the discarded bottle.
Clara, continues, somewhat unnerved:
Yeah, the situation is not optimal here. My slave drinks because he is the “runt” of, shall we say, the LITTER, and I was never even invited to the motherfucking “litter”. To be fair, I never even thought of putting my name to be part of the “litter”, so I can’t open my mouth and say stuff now.
I did put my name on another list, which gives me the right to go after J.K.R. But Mr. Slave here advised me to drop all charges and eat oatmeal instead. And I did that, because he is as zealous as he is smart.
Considering all that I was weak enough to let the ego dictate this garbage to me, because I was down, even as Father was right in front of me.
I chose grudge and grief instead of looking into His eyes! Instead of saying: Please just help me out of this dumb dream sequence, where You helped me accomplish amazing feats, but “my” frigging ego was never happy, and only whipped me harder. Fuck that! Please take me out of this rat race! I have suffered enough!
(she swings her fist in an act of desperation and it gets caught in the thick fabric of the Velvet Curtain).
Seemingly untouched and unmoved by Clara’s self-centered rant, Lord Ben puts the empty bottle by Knyaz’s chair: Me too. When your slave wakes up tomorrow, tell him to meet me where agreed.
Lord Ben disappears behind the Curtain.
Clara is lost for words, can’t believe they were visited by HIM: Meet you where agreed. Ok, I will.
The Curtain moves slightly, and a quiet voice can be heard: And don’t forget to hold my seat on the Train To Eden.
Clara can’t take it anymore and breaks down, holding tightly, lovingly and protectively to the bulge on her left side, indicating Knyaz sleeping there: Oh, what the heck! Whichever way it turns, I already got a sweet child out of the deal!
(continues thoughtfully and remorsefully)
There! He is gone, just like that! And why was I so whiny? I did not have to pour all of our problems on him! After all, he owes us nothing!
(looks longingly towards the side of the Curtain that Lord Ben used for his exit: I can’t believe he agreed to come with us to Eden. I wonder who is he going to cross the River Styx for? Praise Father!!
(She grabs her left side): Yep, my left kidney! I can barely breathe... Father please help me with my health, what a mess.
Daily:
Oatmeal
Vitamins
Fish oil
Benefited 4-5 scoops
Eye drops 5 times a day
EYES: NO Restasis
YES Oils
To Do in Uslamar Kils:
More Alrex (steroid, anti-inflammatory) Dr. Nett?
Call Dobry / $400 for parcel
Card for Rebekah
Onions
Food in the fridge
Food bank food
Gifts from people / Zoe’s surgery
Cross
Find out her address:
Send Sara Young’s Jesus / Personalized
Rebekah Gosslin
8277 Road 21
Lingle, Wyoming 82223
A City A Week
Images for H.M:
Longing
Playful
Seductive
Porno
Blue necklace for Kira
Parcel for Dobry
Introduce Sir Ben to Dobry
Medical marijuana license for Florida -
find out how long it takes to get it?
Knyaz sits by the wall, holding limp Clara, who is laying on the floor, writing on a piece of paper:
“Dear Father,
I cough like a sailor, and I feel like there is phlegm in my lungs...
But the main thing right now is that I’m having constipation from hell. Docusate sodium (100 mg, 3 pills), is not working at all. Three pills at once, every morning, zero results. If it continues like this, I’ll have to take Dulcolax on Labor Day. And that means all day in the hotel room hugging the porcelain god again.
My right eye is getting worse by the hour.
I used Eritromicin for 4 days (the entire time we were on this trip), and it was getting better, but tanked dramatically today. Could be because of the water situation here.
I’m switching back to Alrex (1 drop every 3 hrs). Alrex DID NOT WORK (that’s why I switched to Eritromicin), but right now I don’t have a choice. My right eye is red, swollen, it itches, the pain is pinching, sometimes stabbing, it’s hard to keep it open...”
Clara stops and hugs Knyaz’s leg.
“I’m not listening to the dumb pre-recorded ego-radio that is only set up to bring me down. So I try not to be desperate, or drown in self-pity. I try to stay away from fear, because conjunctivitis in the middle of nowhere with two more days to go (I need to make it to Tuesday, then we get back to Guernsey and can all the eye doc) is not the gut impaction I feared. I can take the eye infection. After all, it is a slow-moving train... Worse comes to worse, I can just lay there all day with my eyes closed.”
Knyaz with his head down runs his hand tenderly through Clara’s long hair, shuddering every time she mentions another medical condition in her letter to Father.
Clara, continues: “Thank you for opening it to us, that this whole Universe is one big setup. I created the ego-machine with only one goal: it was to make me experience desperation, resentment, anger, and all that jazz, but fear most of all. Fear of being completely one on one with insurmountable problems...
Thanks to Your Guidance I learned how not to shoot up desperation and self-pity, but fear is hard to fight here on Level 1, when 2-3 medical conditions are battering you all at once.”
She moves, listens to her stomach, to Knyaz: I think I need to poop!
She gets up with her right eye closed, and a pained expression on her face. But she comes back happier.
Clara: Ok, I pooped enough to call it the actual poop, not just “three miserable pieces of one tiny Mr. Hanky, altogether slightly bigger than a 25 cent coin”.
Knyaz nods without lifting his head, and she lays back on his lap. Knyaz is dressed in the sports suit H. brought him for the trip.
Clara, continues with the letter: “Thank you for helping me poop. That’s a big deal. I can handle the eye, although it is really painful and uncomfortable. But I know You will help us.”
Knyaz finally can take no more, and he breaks down crying.
Clara: “Thank you for my wonderful slave. He is very cute, unsure of himself, and is a tremendous joy to fuck”.
Knyaz shudders, hugs Clara’s shoulders.
Clara, writes: “Ok, so we found out that the ego-machine is there to misinterpret every event of my life to give me a reason to shoot various poisons that would cause me to have all these negative feelings. Like, right now the ego-machine is knocking on our door with s big smelly concoction that would make me experience self-pity and “abandonment by God”, because “you poor thing did not become a famous writer”.
Clara shakes her head, and even opens her swollen eye: How stupid is this claim? Why should I believe it? I’m only 45, and the ego-machine is desperately trying to get me to shoot up the self-pity poison. But the truth is: the ego-machine CANT SEE THE FUTURE. In fact, it can’t see anything, because it is just a tape-recorder laying in the chair, while I’m laying passed out underneath it.
I tasked the ego-device to misinterpret all the events of my life, so I’d have a reason to shoot up the poisons, and experience anger, resentment, fear, of course, self-pity, and all that jazz.
All that You would not give me to drink. That was the gist of the altercation that took place between You and me this morning in the Eden Garden.
I then ran away, put together the dumb ego-device to “guide” me INSTEAD OF You, took some drug and fell asleep under it. That’s how this Level 1 Universe came to be.
Now I’m here... (she caresses Knyaz’s legs, which makes him cry even more). I did all this, because I’m young and stupid...
The Velvet Curtain behind them moves, as if blown by a draft of air.
Clara corrects herself: Not stupid, but recalcitrant. And now I’m paying the price. And the ego-machine is doing its damnest to make me feel bad, because that’s what I created it for. Because if it does not work hard to offer me a reason to shout up fear and desperation, then the thing is not doing its job, and the creation always ways to please its creator. But I was an idiot of a creator, having created the device to torment myself, because I wanted “to experience pain”.
Clara swallows hard, Knyaz sobs.
Clara: “I did a bad thing. Please help us now. We love You, we understand that we can’t live without You.”
Clara cries into the communication device, as Knyaz, wearing a training suit, much like the one Bruce Lee used to wear, us huddled by her feet. He sports a five o’clock shadow, reeks of alcohol.
Clara: Father, I have not pooped in a few days, we’re going away from civilization, and what if I have a gut impaction again? The pain is worse than a knife, and a nearest hospital is a hundred miles away!
(She sobs into the red gem, then stops abruptly).
Can you hold on, please? Sladkie mladshenky moi... Is shivering again.
She leans down to Knyaz, wraps him in a blanket, as he collapses at her feet, his eyes closed shut in a tormented squeeze, his skin whiter than parchment.
Clara sobs over Knyaz, as she continues her monologue: Sladkie started binging again. H. brought him this training suit before, and changed him from the pajamas I made him wear. He did not like the pajamas, and I could not allow him to be naked, albeit inside of me, in his safe place. H. took care of it, and watching him being very comfortable in a suit, I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier.
Clara takes a breath, interrupted by an uncontrolled sob: Yeah, what else? We were threatened again with physical violence. It was not pleasant, but the good thing is that we now know that it is a machine. You will turn it off soon enough. My eyes are killing me, but thank You for the medicine. Guillermo answered me a second time. Again with Ihtiandr. I have no idea what his response meant. All I wanted to ask if he could help get a job for Sladkie. H.M. was happy today, and, as I already mentioned, H., velsigne hendes sjal, brought Sladkie the training suit to sleep in. But I’m terrified of unbearable physical pain this dumb ego-radio promises me every day...
Melekh Shel Zahav is heard responding to her, but the words are not discernible. What He said could only be surmised from Clara’s reaction.
Clara brightens up, and tears stream from her tired, pale cheeks: Really? You can fix it all this easily? How can we help You? What do we owe You
(she, then, breaks down again)
Father, Sladkie told me he only had six months left to live
Clara swallows hard, leans to unconscious. Knyaz by her feet, tucks the blanket around his body, making sure he is comfortable.
Clara can’t hold anymore and falls into a pit of desperation: H.m. and I cried so much, so much...
Melekh responds, and Clara stops crying, and starts writing: Ok, yes, I’m listening.
“Rule One: No one will be hurt. Ever.
Rule Two: Clara, Knyaz and H.M. are inseparable. They will ALWAYS be together.
Rule Three: Father only and ever has good news. We listen to His Radio, and we will be happy for a reason. We listen to ego-radio - only bad news, because they are all lies, and we will be unhappy for no reason. The choice is ours.”
Ok, I got it! Thank You so much!!
Clara is crying in Knyaz’s embrace, inconsolably so. He holds her close to his chest, while crying with her.
Clara: I will never be needed as a professional anymore. I will die in obscurity.
Knyaz, through his tears: You don’t know that.
Clara: All there is left for me is pay my debts, which are many. I should be grateful that Father took it upon himself to pay 99% of it. This is it. This, and a litany of medical conditions. That’s good, because one can finally finish me off soon enough, so I would not have to. There will be nothing left but this. Debts and health issues.
Knyaz, barely able to talk through his constantly flowing tears: You don’t know that.
Clara breaks down, slides down into Knyaz’s lap and cries there into his hands for a long time.
Knyaz pats her head, then sakes her gently by the shoulders: Clara, we must get up to meet Father. He will be here in less than five minutes.
Clara lets Knyaz get her up, and she finds her feet with great difficulty.
They stand still and face the Velvet Curtain.
Knyaz, on his knees: Clara, please! I’m getting old! Nobody wants me anymore! When you... When you agreed to be with me, you did not expect this ruin of an old drunk! Please dismiss me! Please have me replaced! I already have a line of other, better men for you... Please be reasonable! Don’t you see? All I do is cry. And all you do is cry with me. Is this what you signed up for when you agreed to take me as your PARTNER?!
Clara, picks Knyaz up like a kitten, puts him on her lap, takes out a napkin with a pretty pattern on it, wipes his tears, blows his nose: I myself am falling apart, my love. A day does not come when I did not have some painful, life-threatening thing happening. My eyes are a mess, and now my lymph nodes are swollen. That’s pretty much very screwed, du ved. Hopefully, Father will take care of that, or out I go. Og desunden, you described our future in “Ne Otrekaytsa, Lubya”. Pretty much the first month we were together. So, you were honest,m, and I did know what was coming, and I did agree to be with an old drunk, yes. But, here is my reasoning: better cry with you than about you. Now, go back into your safe place, here into my kangaroo pocket...
Clara carefully eases Knyaz into a fuzzy pocket on her left side. He goes limp and is soon not seen anymore.
Clara: Now, Sladkie, don’t forget - the upper tit produces Budweiser, and the lower delivers Michelob. If you want any other beer, tap three times on mommy’s belly. Russian “Baltika” is also available. Now mommy needs to take care of her oldest. Get cozy, love you!
Zeidi calls from the kitchen. Clara runs with a serene smile on her face: Yes, Your Majesty! Coming right up!
Possible lymph node inflammation (left side of my neck, hurts like bloody hell, especially when I turn my neck)
Clara rushes to the Velvet Curtain, and falls, grabbing at it with dire desperation in her eyes. Knyaz can barely hold her back from hitting her face on the floor.
Clara: Father! I need help! {throws a miserable look at Knyaz} WE need help!
First, I can’t find my brown bag with all the papers needed to get through the Russian border... I know His Majesty has both my passports, but what about the package of papers?
And second, H.M is at my throat again! He wants to sell the house in Florida and travel abroad for 4 months of winter!
{she breaks down, her face is streaked with shiny rivulets of constantly flowing tears}
I can’t tell him without attacking him that he is full of shit. Unfortunately, I’m still unable to say EVERYTHING in Your Language Of Love. So I can only tell him that in offensive, divisive ego-speak. I can tell him that in those supposedly happy travels that he tries to sell me, I fear many things, but the main thing is: I need an escape when he goes after me! In other words, every time he turns on me, I take THC.
Without THC I have an unconquerable desire to kill myself every time he is down on me for something. Or, just rude to me for hours on end, treating me worse than an animal because HE is in a bad mood.
Since I can’t transport edible THC across borders... The conclusion is clear. IF WE LAND in, for example, Panama, we can, of course, get all the smokable we want. But I smoke non-stop. I just switched to edibles to help my smoker cough and a sore throat I get from sucking on that pipe ALL DAY LONG.
I will not have edibles in Panama. At least not from a reliable source. This is killing me!!!
(Clara howls hoarsely as Knyaz tries to get her up}
Clara continues as she struggles to her feet, supported by her faithful Knyaz: He is beating up on me to “travel with a suitcase across Europe”! Do you know what it feels like to look forward to the perspective of traveling with, basically, an explosive asshole, who unloads all his anger and negative emotions on me any time he feels so?!
{she breaks down and sobs uncontrollably, until she coughs, almost vomits, and is held by Knyaz from falling over}. The only time I can take it is when I’m in my known, reliable environs, and can relieve the pain he causes me by taking THC... Please help me! {looks at Knyaz}. Please help us, because Knyaz somehow thinks I’m the best thing after chopped liver, and...
Knyaz looks stricken, then deeply saddened.
Clara, corrects herself through her sobs: ... he thinks I’m just below Sir Ben and The Ancient One, which is a pretty high position in his internal hierarchy...
Clara stumbles, both stagger, crying and hugging, waiting for Melekh Shel Zahav.
Melekh rushes from around the Curtain and Clara falls to her knees in front of Him.
Knyaz follows her, and instead of struggling to get them both up, Melekh just sits on the floor by them. Together with Knyaz they manage to position a devastated, nearly unconscious Clara with her head on Melekh’s lap. He pats her hair in long, slow motions.
Clara comes to, somewhat, warmed by Melekh’s all-encompassing magic: Just can you please tell me when will my mother die? Then I know how much longer of this I must take before I kill myself. Because I’m done, I’m so done with this man. I’m done with this life, too!
She cries while Melekh sits, as if in a daze, staring down.
Knyaz tries to look into His eyes, but Melekh’s head is too low.
Knyaz, whispers with just his lips: Is there anything You can do to relieve her cross?
Clara gets still in Melekh’s embrace, the pained expression on her face softens. Then she starts talking very quietly: All his rudeness on top of his blatant disregard for my medical issues. The toy is not allowed to break! He considers my medical issues to be bullshit and the impediment to his entertainment agendas. Well, THIS toy was NOT made in Japan!
I can envision this happening once we’re there:
“Oh, hon, my eye hurts!” “Ah, I have bladder infection!”
“Well, fuck you, I’m paying $1000 to be here, and by God or devil you are coming with me to see the Eiffel Tower thingy.”
That’s the convo we will have in Paris!
Because we just had it the other day, when he jumped up, showered me with expletives, and drove away all the way to Denver on one memorable Friday morning, because I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of sex! Oh, he punishes severely ANYONE who dares to interrupt his pleasure. And this bitch is going down! Down I say! For wanting to go to the bathroom for THE SECOND TIME IN HALF AN HOUR! i mean, I’m trying to fuck here, and she is being a stupid bitch like that, a disrespectful bitch, who deserves a good lesson!
So, yeah...
Clara opens her eyes and Melekh’s face is right above her.
Clara sighs, slows down, but continues, hoping she did not have to let her ego speak, but the pain is too much: I no longer care for being a famous writer, or any of that stuff. I gave my life to You. You asked me to give You my old life, and in exchange You gave me Knyaz. You asked me and Knyaz to help You get H.M. out, too. And You said You will help us with him.
Knyaz nods eagerly to what Clara has to say: And He did.
Clara takes a breath, and squeezes Knyaz’s hand: You are right.
Clara and Knyaz stop crying, and just relax in Melekh’s Presence and embrace.
Clara: Ok, I will not kill myself. Because it will upset my Knyaz.
Knyaz shakes his head.
Clara, looking at Melekh, who is now looking straight ahead of Him: Well, it is going to devastate You, Our Father.
Knyaz nods yes.
Clara closes her eyes, but listens to the sounds of the street outside, for H.M.’s golf cart coming back.
Joe and Kira
Vores Hemmelighed 2 Hav Af Din Sorg
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èíòåðåñíî ,çàáàâíî,ñ îãîð÷åíèåì ñíîâà ñåêñû,íàêàçàíèå ñóä.ðàçáîð äåë
íàä ãëàâíûì , Äæåéìñ áûë âî âñåõ ïðèêëþ÷åíèÿõ. Ñïàñèáî çà ðàññêàç,Äæåéìñ!
Íèíåëü Òîâàíè 14.02.2025 08:52 • Çàÿâèòü î íàðóøåíèè
Íà ýòî ïðîèçâåäåíèå íàïèñàíû 2 ðåöåíçèè, çäåñü îòîáðàæàåòñÿ ïîñëåäíÿÿ, îñòàëüíûå - â ïîëíîì ñïèñêå.