Y : A fairy tale

 

l.e. 06.05.10

 

A man ascends a simple stage. Around him myriads are gathered.

The assembly is endless, and a silence comes over them.

He is old, careworn, but vital. His eyes blaze with a majestic knowledge that defy his casual demeanor. Everyone in the assembly knows him.

He gazes out upon them, and exchanges a moment of respect. He begins to speak, in a voice too frank to be made up, and too sincere to be a ruse.

Alright, listen up.

He clears his throat.

The mission is simple: save the Universe.

To do that, you have to get born on the great playing field.

In this case, a particular planet, as a human person, in a time of great struggle.

There’s no pay, none of you are going to succeed, you’re going to be taking orders from invisibles whose vision and motives exceed your wildest imaginings, and all of your are going to forget everything I warn you about the moment you hit the trail.

From this moment forward, half of everything you know will become deception.

But, to be fair, I’m going to tell you what the mission entails. We always try to tell as much as possible, just to prepare you — who knows, some of you may be amazing enough to carry some of it across the great veil. Not that this will aid you — much. At some point I myself will probably get carried away and begin babbling almost incoherently, but pay attention — not every crucial message is coherent!

We’ll take you to the whirlpool, from where the race begins.

Once there, we’re going to put you into a hyperintelligent organism that is essentially a spacecraft, and who can traverse dimensions as well as any gap that can be imposed. Your mount is unstoppable. This puppy is the original winged steed — your personal ‘charger’. Since you both have souls, there will be four of you, which, as a unity, makes five.

We will then send you off on a do–or die mission to penetrate a planet so far away, that, seriously now, you’d have to be out of your mind to think you could get ever there. It’s about as far away as a distant galaxy. Even though the steed is worthy, the chances that you’ll actually get to the ball on time are functionally nil. I mean think about it. The distance. The calculations. You’re going to need more than power and skill. You’re going to need... well.

Favor.

Let me be blunt: essentially, all of you, every single one, is going to die in the race. Period. There will be no survivors. At best, you’ll establish a new beachhead from which a forward leap can be made. And that’s going to take such a succession of sequential miracles that...well...

We’ll send you in a swarm to increase your chances. 70 million or so others just like you, all of whom are going to try for the chance to achieve egg-proximity — together.

And, should that absurd improbability occur, without even a moment to rest, you’ll have to group-sprint for the chance to be the first one to the edge of that sacred radius.

And that’s not all.

The old speaker takes a sip of water, looking around at the faces of the assembled volunteers.

On the other side, the Something Amazing has been going on while we’re preparing, over here. Countless myriads of mothers — whole lineages — encompassing the entire line of mothers in all of time and space — have called all of their possible daughters into similar competition, to comprise the planet you seek to invade and envitalize. Their chosen princess shall become that egg, and they are going to judge every racer to within a quantum of their lives.

Indeed, they shall themselves start the great co-m(other) petition, and scrutinize those who win most severely. If you get anywhere near the egg, you’ll come to a crossroads. Take the wrong turn? You’re dead. You might not even get to choose, since you could be caught up in a current. But suppose you actually make it, and you’re in first place?

That planet you’re going to cross all that distance to penetrate? That baby will bounce you right out of the game if it doesn’t like the way you twitch. So even if you make it there (which believe me, you won’t) you’ve still got to please the mothers, and the princess-daughter, and her entire line of fathers, both material and supernal, because –all- of them are involved in the race. And these aren’t spectators. Their senses have a profound effect on every nuance of the entire event.

But that isn’t even the –start- of your troubles.

The man pauses to mop his brow.

Should you actually succeed…

No, even should you be the chosen one, the one to pass the threshold, then, before you’ve even had a chance to rest in your victory, you’ve got to face the other half of you in mortal combat. In fact, your trusty steed will immediately turn against you and attempt to get you both killed.

You’ll be inside the target, but once inside, you’ll have to fight an angel to stay there. Even if you win, the angel hangs around, just to make sure you can tell night from day.

But then, it really gets rough. You start growing exponentially, and you respond to whatever insane nonsense is going on outside the M(other), such that your growth happens in ways that are engineered to endow you to heroically fight all of the monsters outside — and win. Meanwhile, the angel you managed to at least tame, is preparing you for what’s coming next.

Now, bear in mind, you’re just a little elf, a fish in the belly of a whale, but your tale will reach far and wide should you manage to emerge from…

…well, that’s the thing of it. You’re going to get ejected. Big time. No more angel next to your ear, either. We’re talking all the warm water goes away, there’s a terrible whirlpool, you suddenly cannot breathe, and you’re squeezed out by monsters who are trying to kill you and you’re squished through this teensy tiny tunnel like you were made of jelly or something — only you’re not — and you can’t breathe, and you can’t go back and well, it’s actually a big, dark, gory, glorious –mess- and…

… there’s machines all around you??? Wait a minute…

The man pauses to catch his breath.

Okay, the next part depends on all sorts of ridiculous things. But more than likely, you’ll be received not by your mother, but by enemies called ‘doctors’. It isn’t that they can’t save your life; sometimes they can. But that’s not really their goal. Their goals are bizarre, and involve attacking you with shots and antiseptics that kill parts of you which are supposed to grow into you from outside. They want to insert metal tubes into you, through which they inject poisons, or even cut you open — worse, they think they’re being heroic, and saving you from tiny monsters that kill you called germs.

Since the whole place (and 9/10ths of you) is made of germs, so — their ideas are rather insane.

Nonetheless, the doctors will almost certainly get a piece of you, and if they don’t then the angel or the germs or both and more — will. Once in a while, however, the doctor or dentist may indeed do you a great service. But watch them carefully. They are like the two snakes on their symbol, and this is not safe at all!

Shortly after ejection, you start to forget your mission, and everything that came before. It just happens. It’s a consequence not so much of material birth, but really of the processes and results of your cultural inoculations and poisons. In other words, all that you go through to get there, and what happens on the other side of the doorway. The living doorway swings in both directions. More than two, in fact; but over there? It really looks like it’s one, or the other — and that forces polarization, which is the beginning of the end of the memory of your mission…

…it takes a while for this to start. About two years or so. For the first few, the angel is close enough at hand that you can usually bear it. Then the voice recedes. Things start to get confusing. Language, and logic…you see, rationality. Well, to some degree you get cars or kids. You might get both for a little while, but eventually, one or the other becomes more important. It’s a bit like that with imagination and language. Eventually, you get mostly one or the other. But the foremost is indeed the prerequisite for the latter, and therefore… oh yes, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again…

…the angel will try to remind you, but the angel acquires a reflection, a shadow, so to speak, which grows more powerful and convincing with your continued exposure to representation itself — and it can get extremely difficult to discern which voice is which, especially when nearly everyone around you, even those who pretend to be the authorized interpreters of the voices demand indeed that no such voices should or do exist! Either that or they tell you the shadow is the angel, when you know (deleted) well, it is not.

And they will hunt you down if you claim to hear them! In any case, the onset of the angel’s shadow is co-emergent with your facilities with language and logic. Or, alternately, with flow and fluidity. Too far in either direction and that shadow will ride you like a little…ahem. What you get there, is a kind of serious trouble, where the angel’s mask is hiding a dead thing that’s always hungry. Check your angel, kid. Regularly. If it looks really sophisticated — between you and me? It’s probably the reflection. The real angel is innocent and shockingly powerful. The sophisticated angel.… that’s something else. Not that we don’t… oh, right. I’m telling too much.

Now, depending on where you land and which planet you went after, and all sorts of other stuff, you may emerge into seething filth, disease, starvation, crime, combat and poverty, or self-aggrandizing, gloatworthy, unbelievably dangerous wealth and power. Both extremes are truly awful to live out, but if you’re lucky, you’ll strike somewhere a bit closer to the middle ground, so that you’ll be afforded a more amicable set of actual choices. It’s true that there’s some grace no matter what, but believe me, the middle way is easier.

You will face grave battles in the early years with infections. This is, in fact, as it should be. These infections are like the strikes that hit Earth from space during her own history, and also like those the humans generated with their own nuclear weapons while pretending to be ‘just learning about physics’ — in fact, what they caused, was t-error — they attacked the Earth, which was themselves — and caused her to have to defend herself from herself! And within them, this becomes auto-immune disease, one of the biggest monsters currently extant on the target-world of which the planet you seek is a daughter.

But if you survive the initial infections, you will acquire her wisdom, and becoming like her, you will be even more adept as her heroes. Yet this will not come without suffering. Indeed, you may beg the gods to be put down in the throes of the deepest of fevers. And some of you will certainly be answered, and there will end your mission.

But should you survive both the doctors and their hated enemies, some of whom are indeed your dearest allies…well, then it really gets thick.

Then, of course, you have to fight all the monsters that have spent thousands of years assembling themselves and are eating everything in sight, while wearing the garb of heroes and being cheered by endless crowds of hypnotized spectators who simply cannot see that their sociological, scientific, technological, and ideological ‘progress’ has become a demon that is eating everything at once and making it into skeletons for ghosts to travel on.

So, essentially, because every other kid around you, and probably you, yourself, will be completely hypnotized by one of the truly endless number of heads this monster commands, nearly none of you will be able to do doodley-squat, except remark at how bizarre and horrific the tokens you project your fear and derision onto are.

Meanwhile, those heads will eat you, your world, the mothers, the children, your parents, and even your memory of your mission.

One in a thousand of you who succeed in being born will survive to become awake to the monster. One in ten-thousand of those will be able to recognize it, instead of becoming the believer in some model of it. And one in ten-thousand of those, can catalyze a transformation in others that will cause their memory of their nature, the monster, and their mission, to return to them…while still awake.

Even then, as now, you may be born in a time when the planet of the event is herself undergoing assault by suitors. Think about this carefully! Just as you went at that egg like there was no tomorrow, the world you achieve birth upon does undergo something quite similar on a different time scale. And more, if something has happened to her bounce, for any reason, there could be extremely serious trouble from multiply penetrating suitors from... space. Some suitors are physical, some are not! I will not say more about this. But know the signs. If it looks or feels like myriads of suitors are coming from the sky, that’s probably what it is.

Now, about your progress, and its nature. For every movement any of you shall make, it will be magnified abundantly by those who remain behind, and we will be cheering you on in every moment. Even those who perish almost immediately, shall achieve a profound and noble gift to all the others, which is shared amongst the living and the invisibles together — and in this way, what would seem irreconcilably horrific is in fact transformed into something so beautiful as to utterly defy description. But of its capacities we may briefly remember: it heals time, backwards from the now, toward all beginnings. It ejects sin, utterly, from every vessel and hiding hole, redeeming every possible wrong with perfect, lasting answer. It is something we become, and thus, beyond this remembrance — we do not discuss.

When you become this together, in remembrance of the mission, and the Home, there is no obstacle that can stand before you. The weakest group of those thusly endowed will withstand the most horrible forces that can be brought to bear upon them, if only their understanding be in their bones rather than their minds.

But every one of you shall fall in the way. Without a doubt, and do not forget — you go to give yourself. That is the nature of the mission, and that is the nature of the Great Journey.

That’s the basic outline. It’s a grim task, and the actual dangers are too vivid to be here defined. But we’ve equipped you to succeed miraculously — if you can simply re-member.

Finally, I will say is this:

The entire hope and power of your home and ancestors, of the invisibles, and of the very source of universes itself shall ride within and beside you always, rise or fall, win or lose, and that shall never change.

He paused for a moment, surveying the multitudes.

Now, let’s have a show of volunteers.

And -everyone- without exception raised their hands.

And such a cheer went up as nearly rent the heavens, and such a celebration.

And then, just as it always has, a tear of pride escaped the Elder’s eye.

:::

Hello volunteers.