TRIALS OF JAMES KELLSPELL, THE UNLIKELY PROPHET
SEASON 5: SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
{HERE COMES MY MARTYRDOM!}
“Pain comes
when you claim something
that was never yours.
God will give you yours,
and He will help you
know the difference.”
Commander Uri Kumlatov to James Kellspell, right before banishing Henry Carlton from the set of Emerald Filament and suspending James from school.
Lierance Triage: Alpha B Omega Omega Omega
“Only the strongest of trees
went into building
of the Noah’s Ark.”
Commander Uri Kumlatov
about apprentice training
“Only the strangest of nuts
went into my basket.”
James Kellspell, to himself,
going over dossiers of his mates
PREVIOUS SEASONS:
SEASON 1
“Shadows and Smoke.
My Consolation” (griffinfrank at mail.ru)
By Samuel Of Salem19
Genesis17
Book written based on these logs: “Sky Over Morrill”
SEASON 2
“Hills Of Metal.
I Needed Him To Love Me”
(voreshemmelighed65 at icloud.com)
By Samuel Of Salem19
Genesis17
SEASON 3
“Beautiful Prisoner.
Daffodil Of Hammersmith”
By Samuel Of Salem19
Genesis17
Books written based on these logs: “Trials of James Kellspell I, II”
SEASON 4
“Emerald Filament.
loyalty. Honor. Service.”
By Sheba Of Salem20
Genesis17
Books written based on these logs: “Intense Loyalty”
SEASON 5
“Shepherd’s Apprentice.
Faith. Love. Unity.”
By Wallace “Sam” Smith20
Malachite Constellation
Genesis 17
SEASON 6
“My Vestal Virgin.
The World Is Getting Smaller.”
By Wallace “Sam” Smith21
SEASON 7
PEARLS:
Where do the Pearls Come From?
And How Do They Come About?
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWW8LS2021
Sent to Sherzahd NKS21
Quotes... Sheba suggested I have this section in the narration. Sometimes she’d scan Jim’s lectures for weird and profound stuff you’d find nowhere else. I do not even need to do that. All I need to do is sit and listen to him and those around him. Here we go.
Glavnoye tolko
“Vernost, Chest’, Sluzhenie” -
Vse ostalnoye - eto ih otrazhenie”
Jim’s new motto as he is very excited
and is getting ready
to start school under Jaguar.
“47 years of pure torture in this body on this Earth -
All was worth it for me for just one his glance” - Jim confessed to me last night, with his hand pressed against his cheek, blood trickling down from underneath it, and for a good reason.
“It’s not the gold, it’s not your dress
(James Kellspell could not care less)
The ego-program is latched on
To your desire to belong.”
And then the dress, and then the gold.
(THEY like it, that’s what you were told…)
(Regent Kellspell playing Nostradamus:
After a 3-day internal bloody fight to pick Henry over “his” ego’s desires,
He writes this prothetic, legendary poem.
I must explain by quoting one of his lectures:
“This is where we make that fateful wrong turn -
Our most ardent desire to belong drags us towards the wrong things\people to follow, like little ducklings following just about anyone out of their desire to follow.
A duckling does not have a choice, being too stupid to process its environment correctly. But we must be smarter than a duck. It is upon you to see, when you replace God to follow with ego to follow. The fateful switch. Your problems begin AFTER that. Then the ego blames God for your misfortunes, confusing you even more. Are you too asleep to see how you pick the wrong figure to follow? Sorry, Are you dumber than a duck?”
“Money can help you protect your body from cold, and your stomach from hunger.
But only God can protect your heart from fear, your soul from pain, and your brain from confusion.”
Commander Uri Kumlatov, in a scathing lecture about the Grehedis he hates so much. He is unbalanced, yes. But can you blame him? He is a survivor of a genocide.
“Blue ksill helps you make the choice. It is the right choice.”
James Kellspell, basically, about his addiction (what is it, really?)
“Your loyalty to your Alpha is your
ONLY insurance against pain, caused by your own stupidity in believing that you can control your life and your destiny.”
Tia Demetra to James Kellspell. Cautionary tale. This woman can think clearly. James loved her for that quote.
“Come closer, stay quiet, don’t spin.
Don’t let the machine in.”
MISTY SHIELD. This blind Estelian woman was a legendary singer. Her songs were about Awakening from the ego, that causes wars. She used to come and sing for the BOTH sides in the war of Liberation Front against Leot’s Forces. She went missing over Opaline (?) of Kloritahan System.
Considered martyred. I think, 14 different organisations took responsibility for her death. Which, basically, means, that no one knows what happened to her, but everyone wanted to jump on the most popular band wagon of Misty & Brennes Show. Her owner, Grehedi Brennes Warm who sponsored all of her trips to help the soldiers, did not last a 100 000 years (not very much time in the society of the Grehedis) before he, too, was martyred. This is the price for the truth on Andromeda. This is where we’re going. Sometimes i wonder WTF is wrong with me, and why did I sign up for this?
“I mashini zlie bredni
Ne isportyat nam obedni!”
“Now I know that fear is the avenue only idiots might take, I am determined never to be pushed by the machine down that path again.”
James Kellspell. While bleeding in my arms. My goodness, you might think that we are nothing but literary dumpster divers, one worn out cliche at a time, but my mate had nose bleeds every day for a week!
NOW we know - that week he bled for Jaguar. Then Jaguar was upon him, and justified his alias. And here I thought HENRY was cruel to James.
“Svet tvoih ochei na tisachu svechei!”
James Kellspell to Lord Henry Carlton
“Yes, well, but Darler only and ever wanted to reach for people’s hearts, and not for their pockets!”
James Kellspell about his Initial Omega
“Henry taught me the difference between gain and drain. He only reinforced the type of my behaviour that brought him gain. The rest will drain your karmic account, he said, and you will have less for me. So it is your choice, he used to tell me. A genius, he is, my Henry.”
A twisted, hurt fuck he is, our Henry. And we want no other.
“Do not be ashamed of your pain. Tell me everything.”
Richard Rockford to James Kellspell, going back to Jim’s shooting incident (when James shot at the photograph of one of his more successful colleagues)
“Do not be ashamed of your shame! Tell me what you think I need to know.”
James Kellspell to Richard Rockford after Rockford admitted to giving James drugs and raping him in his female avatar.
“Sobriety is the easiest thing to fix.”
Tia Demetra. I swear this woman is the walking Bible of wisdom.
“And please tell Melekh, what the machine says to hurt the Child of God. All blatant lies, the worst of them are “You are worthless in God’s eyes”, and “Father is mad at you”! The last one is THE MOST PAINFUL, when you are below the water line, not hearing Father, therefore under the control of the stupid machine… We need disarming arguments against these two at the very least, to supply them to those currently tormented by the ego.”
James to Prince Moretr, after yet another controlled submersion/falling asleep “under the control of the ego” to bring back intel on what wrongful indoctrination of the Child Of God is going on in the “torture chamber of the ego”.
“Covenant means that we will stay TOGETHER. Not that we will stay THE SAME. And the first is not contingent upon the second.”
Henry to James, explaining how their relationship works.
“I come to You clean,
Without the machine.”
James to Prince Moretr
“Tell me, what is an Alpha, Wallace? Right, one thing about them - their torment is directed OUTWARDS. What is an omega?”
(Right or wrong - he does not let me answer, just using me as a prop while talking to himself :) He can do this for hours.
“Their torment is directed INWARDS?” I extrapolate with caution.
“Yes!” James nods readily. “Therefore, my love, the only difference between an Alpha and an omega is their VECTOR!”
Just one of our random morning convos, leading to the inevitable conclusion that if you are in the “Escaping Proximity” vector, no matter what you do - you WILL BE in pain.
“If you can’t avoid it, you have to prepare for it. Wallace, don’t quote me on that!”
“Why?” I can barely raise my eyes, he is so bright, so energetic, so full of power.
“Because someone else said it before me, I’m sure.”
Henry Carlton: “Will you ever look at me as something more than a pretty ass, James?!”
James, pushing Henry against the bed with his groin, although both are still dressed: “Of course, in the light of the latest events I came to see you as a loyal royalist. Or, Royal loyalist. Whichever one you prefer or can handle better.”
Jim’s advice on politics (wearing a “stars only” neck mask): “Yes, gentlemen, thank you, there is no need to film this, for the love of God. What was your question? Why are there “stars only” on my mask? Because this is how much politics I can handle at the moment. Not even half of it, yeah. What? Am I a complete political jelly fish? Ha-ha, you’re funny. Let me tell you, I support quite a bit. Can jellyfish do that? Yeah! But here is what you do with your own scale of political involvement: When choosing a platform, don’t go too far, or too right. Don’t go too left, either. Stay safely in the middle. Make your waves only to lift something of value. SUPPORT CHARITIES. Human rights, animal rights, environmental issues. Here is your chance to participate in politics without creating more conflict.”
“And WHAT have you learned from everything I told you?
“When they say “I feel like queen”
What exactly do they mean?”
Jaguar questions Jim.
Jim turns on the poem-weaving app. :)
“Lady Anne is like a violin that longs to be played. All you need to do is touch her strings lightly, and she will sing the sweetest, the saddest of songs”
James, after his breakdown about the Lost Man, remorseful about what he had done.
“I want to be your First, James!”
“You ARE my thirst, Henry! The unquenchable kind!”
Oh, obviously, our star-crossed lovers reinforcing their bond in every conversation, every glance, every touch.
“Henry helped me understand the difference between a blockbuster and a filibuster. Apparently, not your every filibuster will be the Buster of the Blockbuster. Why are you’all laughing? I really miss Henry!”
Drunk James. He drank because Henry ran out on him. He wanted to know why, and he was recounting all the good things Henry taught him, so that when Henry heard it, he’d come back knowing how much James valued him.
“Small picture hurts, bigger picture heals. The choice is yours.”
Ever-composed Prince Moretr to ever-hurting Commander Kumlatov
“When the girl comes up at you crying, you do not cry with her. When the same girl runs at you, threatening and hitting you with her little fists - you know that this girl is H.M., spun out on what he heard from “his” ego about me. Well, you are in control. You are Awake. He is not. You ignore his threats, you dismiss his despicable behaviour, and you calm him down, so he does not feel so alone being bullied by “his” ego.
“Nothing will flood
The Oculum of God.”
Jim, mumbling to himself, working on the “SeaRock Bridgeplate”, his biggest and most valuable invention as of yet.
Ego only and ever shows you one side.
And it wants you to believe there is nothing else to hide.
Don’t you believe the lies of the machine:
Remember this: the “wall” is paper thin.
“How to know that you’re being controlled by “your” ego”?
You are expressing an opinion!
You are not supposed to have an opinion.
It is the huge root of 99% of problems.
So, it is the ego that suggests you stuff to say.
Your task is to LISTEN, not talk.
You want to talk when you give in to the ego’s “tickling” you with stuff you need to express.
Don’t express. Suppress. It is the path to Peace the ego is tasked to deprive you of.
Ignore its BS. Achieve Peace.”
Commander Kumlatov to Jim Kellspell
Surely, Commander is very good at “suppression”. Question is whether it is helping him at all. If not, why introduce an algorithm that does not work?
“Come here for comfort
My Princess, My Queen.
It’s not outside
It’s the prison within!”
James to Tigress
“Ego is wrong about everything. I programmed it with only one purpose: to break every Rule in Father’s House while high on drugs. So, when it says “IF you had money, you COULD be happy”, I finally know how to respond to the recording of my own voice (oh, how far I’ve fallen!). This is what I say to that: I WOKE UP enough to see, that i DO NOT NEED MONEY. I’m not asked to PAY MONEY. I’m asked to PAY ATTENTION. That confuses the Stupid to no end. I can walk away as it sits there, chewing on what I just said, unable to beat it with any logic, available to it.
The Stupid processes EVERY SITUATION incorrectly. It never includes Father and it thinks that Love is a waste of time. How can I POSSIBLY receive the CORRECT picture of what is going on with me from THAT dumb device? I must wean myself off the reliance on this garbage program if I truly want to be in joy, and not in pain.”
James Kellspell, pushing himself out of the incorrect thinking as vigorously as he can, yesterday, drunk, leaning against the bed with sleeping Henry on it. He sat on the floor, guarding his Henry.
“The ego winds you up, keeping you tense. Its job is to have you ready for an attack. It’s job is to push you to hurt others. And then, your loved one walks into the room with something, or says something, and you lash at them, and you, yourself, do not even know, why you’re annoyed like that. Because you sat there and listened to the stupid, reminding you of all the things you should be worried or upset about. This is how you are the SHAMEFUL SLAVE OF THE EGO, it’s mindless soldier, stabbing your most loved ones upon its orders.”
James, writing an essay upon Jaguar’s request, on how to recognise the voice of the ego and detach from it.
What is going on you may not have a clue
But at the very least you are in the blue
“When you out of alcohol, and out of battery power, you’re still not out of God. That’s the difference between passing and eternal.”
James, to the gathering of
And the world and the song and the air was fresh
When we united like hot iron and flesh
James as Dash Brooks, to Lady Victoria
“Bent out of shape? Wallace, you don’t know what it means to be bent out of shape!
It is when the gay man hears his road guiding system telling him to go “straight for the next 69 miles”. That ‘s being bent out of shape!”
James KellSpell, to me (Wallace Smith, PAO)
Orthotropic deck for illusion panels:
BRIDGEPLATE 1: “There Is No Way Out Of Truth”
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This is the rewritten pic of the world J kept on creating every time he GOT BACK from being killed by Leot’s Clandeslux on MEOL: “There is no way out of Truth, Mr. Leot. I will keep on appearing in your dreams until you follow me to the Awakening.”
“I’m doing this to make sure that there’re less and less possible futures where I’m not. Leot thinks that if he keeps on killing me, I’ll get despaired and quit coming back. But i must come back - one more might just make it. Just one more resurrection and LEOT might despair.”
Regent James Kellspell about the events on MEOL.
“Attractive is not the one who is pretty in everything.
But the one who survived pretty much everything.
That’s you, sir…”
James, on his knees in front of Jaguar, sobbing and begging him to be his Alpha, telling him through large, shiny tears that he, Jaguar, is the best Alpha Jim had ever known. And he, James, will do ANYTHING he can to be the best student he knows how.
“I do not want to drown in bitterness! I WANT TO LEARN TO SWIM IN IT!”
My most spectacular James Kellspell, looking for ways to get to Henry Carlton and not perish.
“Think when you sink.”
Jim, having shot a hefty portion of NES-sp poison, collapsing into Lady Tigress’s arms.
“Forget the Sheiredis, forget the Message. They fell from Grace because YOU fell from Grace. BUT… You did not fall from Grace, Zdezar. You walked away from it. Now, what steps did you take in your mind, and let’s go back and re-trace them. I will show you where you took the wrong turns in reasoning, because you listened to the voice of the dumb machine. The reason you listened to the dumb machine is because you were ASLEEP: you were in pain, but blamed God for it. If this is what happened, this is your first step Back: see that your “background pain” comes from the fact that you’re separated from your Father. But then, you do not want to wake up yet, so you engage the go to give you another reason. Guess what - this is the first step into even more PAIN! For the machine was programmed BY YOU to blame your pain on God. Therefore you do not want to see Him (and you do not know why), therefore you remain asleep (can’t make an effort to wake up), therefore, you continue being in pain. So, YOU HAVE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH.”
James Kellspell to Zdezar Arkana during their historical walk in the woods last night, which no one was allowed to film. Oh, how they longed to see each other again. To Arkana, it was 50 million years of waiting, self-doubting, and wondering if Arzadellin would approve of everything he had done to preserve his memory. To Arzadellin, now James Kellspell - it was all about adhering to Magnificat and Covenant, and showing Zdezar WHEN and HOW God’s Law becomes corrupted, once the Revelation was delivered.
“Commitment may be a heavy chain, but it ties you to sanity.”
Dr. Hugh Michael to James Kellspell
James is a porn actor who knows chemistry. So, he can undress in a sexy way while reciting the Periodic Table of Elements.
This thought just came to me (Wallace Smith) amidst much turmoil here on the set of “Emerald Filament”.
BRIDGEPLATE 1: “There Is No Way Out Of Truth”
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THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
CHAPTER 136 (this file - from 119)
“The Van Der Waal’s Effect”
To conquer your ego is to ask Jesus to help you carry your cross.
If you feel that you are dragging your cross alone - then you re still running with “your” dumb ego.
Therefore you have not suffered enough.
This indicates that you are still asleep
Then there is a 100% chance that you will experience more pain soon enough.
Break the circle by surrendering to God.
James Kellspell, “To the Andromedans”
“Why? Why do I remember “Konstantin Mountblanc”?”
Regent Kellspell, digging through his Arkchil Records in search of something very important.
The underlying statement for Jim’s new bridgeplate:
“Accept the ruler given to you by God -
The ruler by blood”
Wallace Smith: And what am I supposed to do with this bit?
That’s why only those who will agree with THIS statement, are going with us to MEOL.
Jim’s OATH OF ALLEGIANCE
The prion, they are finding out, is called “The Van Der Waal’s Effect”.
“Come.” Jaguar commanded, and James approached him, dressed in sweat pants and a white shirt.
Literally, he could not have been more humiliated by being asked to show up looking like a shlepper, but that did not faze James (he was grateful he was not forced to wear a suit), and no one ever mentioned the way he looked during his OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.
“What do you want?” Jaguar asked James when the latter approached.
“I want nothing but to become a soldier for Our Lady to command me whenever she needs me, wherever she wants me to go.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Please make me impervious to any impact, so that I could be a perfect, indestructible soldier to Our Lady, but, also, so I could earn and achieve martyrdom.”
The prion, they are finding out, is called “The van der Wall’s Effect”.
6:53 am, and I’m manning the bridgeplate. Now, if a woman controls it, what do we call it? That would be kind of a chauvinistic James Kellspell joke. Mind my words, they’re coming for him. The women of this reality show are now wise to Kellspell’s antiques.
Yesterday, as the news of Jim’s plight spread among the general population of the Strobilus, the scandal broke out.
Due to the high calorie level of his anti-prion injections, exercise was offered. Running, in particular.
All it took for the fire to spread was the possibility of Jim running on the premises.
Two hours later I was handed the Petition signed by at least 15 women, who stated how uncomfortable they would be if a man accused of sexual assault is allowed to run around.
“I know.” Jim shrugged. “They see me as a sexual predator. And although I’m gay, and never assaulted any women, my street cred is still of concern.”
Just holding that Petition in my hands was worth ten pages of description of deep shame I had experienced. I don’t know what I would do if I had a “street cred” like this. I’d hang myself, for sure. I could not look anyone in the eye, if I had such a reputation.
Jim only glanced once at the Petition, his face a mask of torment, his eyes blood-shot from smoking a huge amount of blue ksill to suppress the pain of sixth injections in a row.
He was given a painkiller, but the painkiller negates the action of the medicine.
They are working on resolving the issue, Prince Moretr’s office said. We were caught unawares, they added.
Caught unawares?
Two years. The prion was introduced into Jim’s system by one of their own, a Yanari Arkabin, two years ago. Right under their noses.
But they only just now found out. That Arkabin turned out working for Kamil Hamal.
And now our life will never be the same.
Here he is, sleeping right by my side with Krotkie curled in a furry black and gray ball at his feet.
Henry is not allowed to see James since the news. We know that this prion was not designed to be contagious, but the decision to sequester Henry was made nevertheless.
I can hear Henry sobbing in his bedroom. An illusion panel in the form of a door was installed where there is normally nothing more than a curtain between Henry’s bedroom and ours.
I wanted to know what he had to say for himself, but he shook his head slowly and said that Prince Moretr was going to give him a treadmill. Problem solved. Women can rest easy, he added.
That was last night.
A message on my bridgeplate. Crawling slowly from the bottom, upwards, in a grey cloud with deep purple rivulets.
“Commander Kumlatov: Tell me more what happened between James Kellspell and Sheba of Salem right before Sheba was let go.”
Oh, thank you for using the English alphabet. James would be the only one who would be able to translate a sentence like that out of a cloud of colours.
Why is he asking me this, and why now?
Does it have something to do with the Prion Scandal? Or how shall we name what is happening?
“Arkchil Operator Wallace Smith: Plenty happened there, but I believe the main problem was when Sheba had asked James to change her name from “Samuel Of Salem” to “Sheba Reddington”, and James said no. He explained that the Arkchil Operator can’t change their name in the middle of work, as it breaks up the continuity and confuses the line of the Archives. James would do anything for Sheba, but in that situation I believe he simply did not feel that he had the authority, and opted to follow the Arkchil Record rules to be on the safe side.”
A few minutes of no messages on the screen, as I watch mine slowly float upwards, and disappear into the top corner of the triangular Grey Searock bridgeplate.
During this time Henry is heard crying on the background.
James gets up, slides the back door open, starts a cigarette, and then goes into some martial arts routine.
Krotkie jumps up, and goes to Henry’s door. He sniffs, whines quietly and sadly, until James calls him outside.
A message creeps from the bottom again. The grey is now much deeper, and purple turned burgundy color. Kumlatov must be in a disturbed mood to be producing colours like that.
And what reason does he have to be happy? There is a civil war in his homeland.
“Commander Kumlatov: Why didn’t Kellspell ask for my, or Moretr’s advice?”
Arkchil Operator Wallace Smith: He would have, but Sheba beat him to it by collapsing on the set. Henry tried to use Salem-Kellspell Covenant to compel her to continue working, but the producers (Lady Lion) stepped in, and relieved Sheba of her Arkchil Operator duties upon her request. Two days later Richard Rockford was appointed as 2nd Arkchil Operator to Regent James Kellspell. And, as you know, he only lasted for two months before he, too, was dismissed. Then I was appointed. That’s THREE Arkchil Operators in one year. Talking about “breaking continuity”.
Wallace Smith on “Black Hexagon”. I must use this channel to stay safe. Jaguar is watching me all the time.
Jim’s “attacks” caused by the prion:
And then he enters what they described as “crash”, meaning that he is experiencing the “false reality”, caused by the prion in his system.
The van der Waal’s force will keep his wings in the water, if he believes the false reality.
If he breaks through to the Light, he will surface from the “crash” unscathed. Meaning, the dragon fly will escape the water.
“This is what I wrote, James. Dates will be censored out, so all I say is: “6 months after I started my job as Regent Jim Kellspell’s Arkchil Operator, Jim was shot with a “Van Der Waal’s Effect” prion that turned him into a crazy man.”
“Tons of rotten intel in this, Wallace. First, and foremost, I was shot with a prion two years ago, basically, shortly after Henry had arrived. The Arkabin that did it worked for Hamal. Prince Moretr missed it because Hamal was using a new sigil on his Arkabin. The worst part is that the Sheiredis are the only ones capable of developing new sigils that would protect your mind from being searched. But the most important part, Wallace, is that you must start with: 9AKS21, the Year of Jaguar’s Return. Before that we had “B.C.” - since /censored {kriagir yaseremshan dorilin tisaver}. That’s six years to the date. Everything after this date is “A.D.”. So, go like this.”
Chapter 136 (5th page of Chapter 136)
SUMMER of Jaguar
MEMORANDUM
With Melekh Shel Zahav
I will take care of all your problems, including those of your body, AT ALL TIMES.
You will take care of your Loyalty-Honor-Service bridgeplate.
Let’s unravel this knot once and for all.
It is MY JOB to provide for you while you’re delivering your performance.
It is your job to deliver your performance (LHS).
You programmed the dumb ego-machine to have your befuddled head believe that BOTH crosses are yours.
They are not.
Every time you get sick, hurt, unwell, in pain, the dumb ego is only too happy to announce that:
It is YOUR problem!
It is impossible to fix, and no-one will even try.
Even if it can be fixed, it will take tons of time to fix, during which you will be suffering greatly, instead of enjoying life.
ALL THAT IS A LIE.
If you get hurt\sick, it is MY PROBLEM, because I have created and own your hardware (ego never mentions that, you never programmed it to mention THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS)
Worry not if you get hurt - I will fix everything for you.
Remember that YOU ARE IMMORTAL AND INDESTRUCTIBLE.
Make sure that the damage to the unit is not your fault.
Make sure you are not sabotaging the unit by your behaviour.
And I know that you know better than that.
Relax and leave the rest to Me.
William Conroy
Arrived to Strobulus NS1421
Henry gets it all!
Please don’t give me any less
For I need your caress
“Patience is a virtue, James.
Time will come, and YOU will be the tastiest apple on the table.
Let Me handle it.”
Melekh Shel Zahav to James Kellspell, today.
11:00 am, Full moon, Tuesday. It is taking them forever to bring a treadmill for Jim’s exercise. Are they inventing it from scratch, or something? Meanwhile the injections deliver anywhere 300 to 600 calories a shot into Jim’s system. He has gained three pounds I the last week. A mental disaster for a former athlete and a martial artist.
He is not allowed to jog at large, so Lady Tigress took him to run in circles around her on the farther part of our lawn between the hedges. The other alternative was for her to take him to the woods ON A LEASH. This is what the women on the set decided. A proper shameful punishment for a sexual predator.
Jim was ambivalent abuot the choice, detached from the whole situation, suffering from muscle pain caused by the injections, and absorbed in Kumlatov’s chemistry homework. Also, involved with someone he was hiding from everyone. For three weeks.
“Good afternoon.” A tall blonde man walks into our bedroom, smiling.
“Wow! Hold on there, sir! Are you new here? What do you think you are doing? No one is allowed in Regent Kellspell’s Uret! Please come back to the guest area.”
The man continues to smile, but stops on the rails of the sliding door.
Oh, I will wipe the smile off his face now!
“Do you speak English? Did you understand what I said, sir? Regent Kellspell will be back from his PT any moment now, and he IS GOING to shoot you. He shot at people for less offences. So, please leave immediately, or I will hit the emergency.”
The man lowers his eyes, reaches out into his pocket, and for a second I expect him to pul a gun, too. Gosh, we have already been attacked here more than once.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Smith, but I have a right to be in Jim’s Uret.” With that, the stranger hands me the Golden Card.
I take the card and stare at it in disbelief.
“William Conroy & James Kellspell”
James is in the throes of another psychotic episode, even as he got two anti-prion injections this morning, and will get another one in two hours.
“Please, help me, James!” William Conroy is on his knees in front of Jim’s bed. Jim is gloomy, his eyes are on the Grey Searock LHS bridgeplate at his left hand, but his mind is back at the building where he and Conroy met back in 1982 during the research in past-life regression via direct submersion experiments. Those experiments, conducted by Mr. Conroy, affected James so much that it set him on his own path of research of the same subject.
“I need to feed my Krotkie Teacher.” James mumbles in response.
Krotkie, having heard his name, lifts his head and sticks out his tongue, looking happily at his beloved James. DeVo is a bitch, but it has its moments. James and Hafnian Wolf (Krotkie) used to huddle and cry together for hours, days and weeks at a time. Then Krotkie crashed for 8 months and DeVoed into a wolf. And forgot all about crying. He became a happy creature with very few needs.
I should try this DeVo thing.
“I will feed Krotkie.” William gets up and digs in a bag of dog food in the corner.
Lady Tigress wanted to put the bag in the kitchen, but James objected, stating that he needs that bag where he can get to it easily, for a mood-lifting snack for our whole team :).
“Have you ALL received THE SAME FUCKING LINES?” James finally confronts the trembling young man. William Conroy was 39 when he invited James to witness his experiments. William is now 71, but by the virtue of being on Level 2, he appears to James the way he looked then.
Hey, I also look 20 years younger. Like the day James saw me first. The day Banazir Neimark showed him my photograph for approval, as Banazir was leaving James for me…
Conroy puts some food into the plastic bowl, and puts it on the floor.
Krotkie jumps down and eats greedily, giving William a big toothy smile.
William has been here three weeks, but he remained hidden in Jaguar’s Citadel21 illusion panel quarters.
And now they’re having a conversation that should have happened on day one, I guess.
“Will, you have the balls of a brass monkey to come here. We started out together, and then you received every award in the book for your research, and my research was never even noticed. So, maybe fuck you, man. Maybe I do not want to see you.”
Conroy stares at his hands for a while, and I wonder what he can possibly answer to that. James has always been touchy about the fact that he was never acknowledged for this groundbreaking work. And here comes his former colleague from the same field, with a chest full of medals, figuratively speaking.
“True that, Jim. However, the aliens came to YOUR signal, and not mine. I went my path, and I was known to only a very narrow circle of scientists. But you? You broadcasted your Letorn Borilis channel across the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Guess what? 30 years later - I’m penniless, for I have failed to prove anything. And you? You brought in an intergalactic team to rescue the humanity.”
Oh, that was breathtaking. And true. Conroy is shedding tears, raising his rather large hands, and messing up his short hair. As little hair as he’s got, still more than me.
“And if you mean it, James, then fuck me. Like in the good old times, between the regression sessions.” Distressed, Conroy sits on the floor and throws his head back against Jim’s bed.
Kellspell sits on the bed like a disheveled, disturbed cat.
“Then, if you mean it, Will, then drop trot and bend the fuck over.”
Really? I was waiting for James to make love to me for a week. He has not been available. He was being used by Jaguar, while Henry is sequestered and crying day and night. And here is this gentleman, who just came from the street, for I know, and he wants to cut in line in front of ALL OF US?!
I open up my mouth to say something.
When James beats me to it.
“Don’t look so forlorn, Wallace! You’re next! Krotkie - third!”
And suddenly all my blues are gone, and I’m so happy. All three of us will get it today. At 47, James CAN come three times in a row.
It’s 2:09 pm, and what a great session we had. James can unite every omega under his guidance. I have never been so satisfied. And although I was second, it felt as good as if I was first. Krotkie was third in line, and he did not complain at all. He is happy to BE WITH JAMES. That’s the attitude.
I got up and got dressed to continue with my recording duties. Check a few messages from Lady Tigress. Boy, is she beating me up lately. But after watching her beating up on Jaguar, AND James, I have understood that ALL MEN are her scratching posts, and we better submit. Sweet aftermath of having sex wit James… Yeah…
Time flies. It does. It’s 2:30 already, and all I did was read one message from Lady Tigress. Tells me we have new curtains coming. They are prints of four seasons, and I’m to c change these curtains every week or so, to liven things up for James, who is locked up in his bedroom, has to take 6 most painful injections a day, suffers muscle pain, and is on a strict diet.
That’s cool. I can do this. The sun is hot. The last of the Summer Of Jaguar. James asked me to name this year the Year of Jaguar’s Coming. Boy, is he all about Jaguar now. His hero, his past life family, his most venerated employer, and his lover at 91 years of age. I’m only 60, and I feel like the whole world had collapsed on me. Jaguar fucks the living daylights out of James.
The sun ray is creeping across the floor towards my leg as I stand with my bridgeplate, watching James on top of William, caressing William’s feather-thin blonde hair.
Is that why Henry was locked up in his bedroom? Because the producers brought in Jim’s old flame, William Conroy? And here Henry was afraid of Gordon. Who cares about Gordon? Gordon never had Jim’s Golden Card.
William Conroy? He gets the best seat in the theater. William Conroy had worked with James Kellspell since 1980. They were done by 1989, where Conroy blamed James for their breakup.
Conroy started that Kellspell left him for Kyle Merritt.
Kyle Merritt, in his turn, stated that Kellspell just left him.
So much for being abandoned, James. Just about every single man on his file claims to be dismissed by James Kellspell. Not the other way round.
The ray of sun creeps onto my leg, and then past me, on the wall. Opposite t that wall, the Chambers of Henry Carlton. Sobs can be heard from behind there.
He was left in his bedroom alone while his “daddy” was having sex with three men at once.
“Marry me.” I hear, and I wonder what I have been smoking.
For no one could say that around James. There is simply no one who has a right to say that to James. He is ALREADY surrounded by the tightest circle of omegas possible.
NO ONE ELSE will join our harem. There is not enough James for us. Let alone someone else.
“Marry me with the Golden Thread, James.” William Conroy is sitting on Jim’s bed, naked and unafraid.
I count to ten in my mind, but it does nothing to cool me off.
I want to confront Conroy, and I know I can’t. It’s insubordination at the very least. So, I confront James instead.
“You have two on the forks and three in the works, James! Please tell me Mr. Conroy is delirious to want to jump into the hottest bed in town, while I was in line for it for 20 years, snuckered out of my turn by Henry Carlton, and now this?”
“Mr. Conroy, do you realise that I WAS on that auction where James picked Lord Carlton, and NOT ME?”
“Mr. Smith, do you realise that I was also on the same auction, and James never even looked at me, because the show was rigged towards Henry Carlton?” Conroy lifts both his nods and I get a whiff of the man for the first time.
He will say anything to get his way. He may be an omega, but there is nothing humble about him.
He may be just like Henry, but twice Henry’s age and experience of getting what he wants in life.
“James, what do you have to say about this?!” We both turn to Kellspell.
And we discover a scene. And what a scene that is!
James has not been listening to our bickering at all. Neither is he interested in explaining himself.
“Be the messenger of love, my Krotkie. Let Henry know how much Daddy loves him. Bring back something of his so I could fall asleep with his fresh smell.” James takes his underwear, sticks it into Krotkie’s mouth, and off the Wolf goes. Through the sliding door, around the hedges, and, I know for sure, into Henry Carlton’s Chambers.
“James! We were just discussing how unfair it was that you picked Henry Carlton without ever looking at other participants. Now we ALL caught up to you. But instead of being apologetic, you are exchanging underwear with Henry Carlton when you were not allowed to communicate him?”
Both me and Conroy are looking at Jim with disapproval, but we’re both omegas, freshly fucked by him. So, we’re not exactly the most frightening sight. Neither are we a threat to him.
We can’t pull it off. We’re too weak. Too dependent on him.
And we get what we deserve.
“You guys are sharks. You’re experienced, you know how to please a man. Henry is a minnow. He is a boy. He fell for me, he threw himself at me, without knowing what he was doing. I took him for his ardor and sincerity. Give him a break.”
“James, what he did was wrong..” I begin.
“Uolles, get back to your duties.” Jim cuts me off.
Right. I must remember where I belong. At his feet. Doing what he tells me to do. I am also not supposed to have an opinion. Sheba could not handle any of that.
“Will,” James turns to Conroy, and I hold my breath.
He better tell Conroy to go fuck himself.
“I agree.” James finishes and kisses Conroy in the lips.
Conroy throws his head back with a pained, but wide smile.
“I want our Covenant Signing to happen as soon as possible. I also want my title of “Regent James Kellspell’s FIRST OMEGA”. Wallace Smith is to be given the title “Second Omega”, and Henry Carlton/Krotkie is to be assigned the title of “Third Omega”.
“So be it.” James agrees immediately. “Do you have your Covenant ready for me?”
“Lady Tigress is giving it the last reading.” Conroy responds as the smile escapes his face, and he gives me an intense look.
I gasp, as a window opens, and I’m allowed a glance into William Conroy’s life. His work in psychiatry. The past life regression sessions, experiments with drugs that nearly cost him his life, the dreadful nightmares it brought, and pitter-patter of small feet in the hall. The ruby-red sunsets with yet another partner he believed was his “one-and-only”. Four children from different women, five broken Covenants, and a lifetime of depression, mood swings, and wanting to know what went wrong.
I may not have a rap sheet as long as his, but I’ve been hurt in my life, too. But Conroy holds a Golden card, and I only hold a Silver one.
“Before you utter another demand, William, I need you to remember that I was compromised with a prion that affects me mentally. I’m on 6 injection of antidote a day that makes me gain weight like crazy and turn me inside out with muscle pain. I have to do two hours of PT a day before I even take a shit, because if I do not, you can start calling me “Eric Cartman.” And I should hate you for a lifetime of achievements, but I missed you terribly, and I’m too happy to see you and to own you like we used to. You were always a huge part of my life. A deeply hidden one, because I thought we were through. But I’m delighted to have you back. And I’m very hard for you, my sweet Will.”
Conroy responds even before I can take a breath.
“I don’t care about any of your issues. I have a truck full of them myself. And if you love me, then marry me with the Golden Thread, and we can become One.”
Marry him with THE GOLDEN THREAD?!
“When is your next injection?” Conroy asks, opening all the drawers in our bedroom, and going through them methodically, and maniacally, I’d say.
This reminds me of Henry Carlton’s behaviour, as described in “Beautiful Prisoner” by Samuel Of Salem (Sheba Reddington).
“Tomorrow at 8 am.” James slides off the bed, goes around the kneeling William, and opens the sliding door for Krotkie to come back with something in his mouth.
“A telegram from Henry!” And James proceeds to take the black wad from Krotkie’s smiling mouth.
James spreads it and starts sniffing it with deep passion. We hear “ahh” and “ohh” as Henry’s underwear is basically inhaled by James.
He, then, commands Krotkie on the bed and smiles at me.
What do I do? I look at the time and ask when we can break for dinner.
“If you Golden Thread me TODAY, we can be One tomorrow, and you will only need to experience 50% of pain when you get injected.” Conroy raises his voice like someone calling 911 while they’re being strangled.
He is offering help, but he sounds the one who needs help.
“After all, James, you left me for Kyle Merritt. Do you know what it did to me? It derailed my research, and it fucked up my head!”
William’s light-blue eyes are accusing, and then they’re begging, while he gets behind James and massages his shoulders, while he presses his groin against Jim’s hips over and over again.
Man, we JUST had sex.
“Oh, what a nice bucket of garbage, my friend. I recognise the old Dr. William Conroy. Hold on.” Jim’s right hand turns into a fist, he calls up his SeaStone LHS bridgeplate, and stares into the swirling clouds. “Uri Kumlatov wants me to turn in my chemistry homework one hour earlier. I better get to it.”
How gives a damn about dinner when passions are heating up. James is not going to give up easily. And he DOES have other responsibilities. Just to remind us, his harem, that he also is in school and has a full-time job.
“You are not going to sweep me under the rug like that, James!” Conroy goes for the throat as Jim makes the last desperate attempt to reach out for his chemistry class on his bridgeplate.
“In the last three weeks we may not have had very much time to discuss things.” Kellspell dissipates his bridgeplate and gets behind Conroy. “But Lady Tigress has acquired the ‘Emerald Filament Team” from Lady Lion this past winter. I was GIFTED to her husband, Mr. Jaguar, and now I work for him. He is subordinate to Lady Tigress. Besides, in order to conduct the ‘Golden Thread” Ritual, your employer’s presence is not enough. You need Melekh Shel Zahav. He is the only one who can conduct it.”
“I’ll have you know that I was GIFTED to Aunt Vickie, so, my Lady tops your Lady, and Aunt Vicky can ask Melekh to conduct the ritual.” Conroy is not letting up. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Before him, the “Golden Thread” Ritual was conducted only once, between James and Krotkie. It is rumoured that most of us would not be able to take it. The pain of the ritual is too great.
James described it as “The arrow penetrates your entire chest and it hurts like you were left by a thousand lovers, as the large rope made of shimmering gold is stretched between you and your partner, tied to the ends of the arrows. In an instant, or, maybe, in Eternity, it is over, and you and your partner are now officially ONE. Nothing can break apart the two particles, engaged by the “Golden Thread Ritual”. No matter what you are, or who you are - they are yours forever, and you belong to them for ages to come.”
“The pain like a thousand lovers left you.” I could not even take if ONE left me. I only had ONE in my entire life. James being the second one.
“Yes, William, see, that is why. I left because I could no longer stand you. You were confrontational, argumentative, and very hard headed. And you were stubbornly going the wrong way.” James is being heard in the backyard. “And when you start arguing with me again like this, I can’t handle it!”
James staggers back in, still with a cigarette between his trembling fingers. 8:38 am, and two hours ago he had the first injection of the day. His torn and dirty t-shirt can’t hide the restraint marks on his biceps.
The Arkabin doctors need him immobilised during the injection and for a while afterwards. The pain is so, James describes, that he wants to jump out of his skin. It’s like cramps in your legs, but ten times worse, in your whole body, he says.
Usually I stand there with a bottle of liquid painkiller he can take anytime as he thrashes against the restraints.
But the painkiller will negate the action of the medicine. Today, he took almost 20 minutes of pure torment before his crying eyes met mine and I poured the milky-white liquid down his throat to stop the pain.
And right after the Arkabins unbuckled the belts that held him against the bed, on a cue, William Conroy showed up with a face like James owed him a lot of money.
I helped Jim off the bed and he hobbled out after Conroy as soon as he could get his feet to work, grabbing a pack of Marlboros with a shaking, sweaty hand.
“I’d rather eat a dead cat’s tail than work with you again, Will!!!”
Apparently, they have not seen each other in 30 years and they have a lot of ground to cover.
“Why is he like that? Did he ever love you?” I ask Jim in a befuddled manner.
Kellspell and Conroy have been screaming at each other all morning, going through a large bucket of mutual accusations, two packs of cigarettes, and a whole bottle of Canadian Whiskey between them, clearly indicating a long, painful history.
And I can’t find any record of them ever working together.
“We were intimate for seven years! Will left his wife for me!!!” James snaps and goes straight for the door of Henry’s Chamber. “Why am I not allowed to see Henry?!”
“Why did Conroy break up with you, then?” I ask, slowly processing and absorbing Jim’s anger. “The Henry Issue” will have to wait.
“Oh, but then I did not break up with him!” William comes in, also with a cigarette. His hands shake just as much as Jim’s, and he was not given any painful injection. “James left me for Kyle Merritt! Just another pretty face! That’s what I was for you! Another pretty face, Jim!”
“You lived and worked together for seven years?! Why didn’t Sheba see it when she was looking to tramp Henry’s contract? Why can’t I find any record of this?” Dumbfounded, I need explanations.
Today is cloudy, meaning that they sent some water vapour to float over the lamp which represents the sun here. But it all looks quite realistic. I never lived in a fish tank before :).
“First, there was no Covenant to enforce, so Sheba would not have benefitted even if she found the record. But then, the record is sealed, Wallace. You know why? Because Mr. Conroy took about 30% of my research data and used it for his work. He, then, claimed it as his, received awards for it, and asked me never to mention that we ever worked together.” Jim’s voice from the bathroom is his regular low and hoarse, but now also angry.
“Way to spin lies, James!” Conroy responds quickly, his voice rises as he gets more and more emotionally shaken. “Whatever drugs you are on, they wiped out your memory completely! Your miserable state is remarkable, but not quite Jason Bourne! You GAVE me your research data! And then I wrote you asking you to help me work through it, and you never answered any of my letters. You just shut the door on me. You left me for another man, and you THREW ME AWAY!” With that Conroy gulps down from the bottle of liquid amber and stares fiercely at the door, behind which James is taking a leak.
Normally, Jim GOES OUTSIDE to pee in the back yard, the cat way. The fact that he WENT INSIDE indicates that he was just looking to get away from his visitor.
Lady Tigress gave me a lot of work to do in terms of sifting through Jim’s Arkchil Record, for certain scenes. This is what I’m SUPPOSED to focus on INSTEAD of witnessing a fight between two ex-lovers over stuff that happened 30 years ago.
Jim has tons to do in terms of chemistry homework, given to him by Uri Kumlatov. He is required to turn in this work by the end of the day. Instead, he’s been drinking, smoking and fighting with William Conroy.
Plus, Jim has to be in Jaguar’s office in half an hour. This is what his schedule says.
We really do not have time for a two-hour argument, but here we are.
“Talking about being on drugs, William! Every time you’d get in a fight with Mary, you’d come to our warehouse, and the first thing you do - is get into the drawers with drugs, and you’d take Vicodin, and you wash it down with Jack Daniels. Your drug use had ALWAYS been out of control!” Jim gets out of the bathroom and he is in William’s face.
They stand like this, face to face, both angry, but William’s eyes are now down, and his cigarette is almost out. Pushed against the wall by James, he is trapped.
It’s been three weeks of this, I see.
William Conroy arrived in the middle of NS21 {date censored}, and he went straight into Mr. Jaguar’s Citadel21 restricted access quarters. I am not allowed there, and I can’t even watch Jim’s channel afterwards.
“You know what, James, I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to leave now, and I’m going to let you think what you did to me, to our relationship, and to our research. You’ve always been a bully. I suffered greatly from you and your violent outbursts. Let me know when you’re ready to admit your mistakes.”
With that, Conroy breaks through Kellspell’s siege, and leaves through the back door.
“FUCK!” James throws himself on our bed after slamming the sliding door behind Conroy. “Can you believe this bastard?!”
He falls so hard that Krotkie is momentarily lifted off the bed and then the Wolf lands back on his blanket, his face smiling, always happy to smell and please James.
Jim can’t resist, and he scratches his teacher behind his ear. “Sleep now, my love. We will break Henry out, as soon as I’m done dealing with fucking William. It will be just like the good old times - you, me and Henry! OK?”
Krotkie, so very skilled at loyalty, immediately does what he was told to do - he lays down and soon falls asleep. He is a sterling example of we all should do - listen and follow.
“I’m beginning to like being left in the dark. It’s sexy.” I venture, darn well knowing that James might not be in the mood to tell me anything. And if he tells me to shut up and work on Lady iT’s assignment, I will have to bite the bullet and do what he told me, as he is by Beta. And I’m his omega.
The difference between the Army and the unruly mob is LOYALTY AND OBEDIENCE TO YOUR LEADER.
“But I have figured some things out.” I’m continuing, as James did not make a motion for me to stop. “William is here to surrender. He has suffered just about enough and he is ready to come back into the Light.” Yeah, this sounds cool. It sounds like I know what is going on, even as everyone has been trying to starve me out of the news for almost a month.
I feel for Sheba. They did it to her, too. The job of an Arkchil Operator is much like a journalist during the military action. They want you to chronicle everything, yet they shoot at you, they give you no breaks and they tell you that you do not have enough security clearance to get answers to your questions.
Jim lays on the bed with his eyes closed. On this very bed he makes love to me. To this very bed they tie him when they give him injections. And on this very bed he also slept and had sex with Henry, Krotkie, Richard, Sheba…
“Can you give me the bottle of Canadian Whiskey? It is hidden in your underwear drawer to the left.”
Oh, now he is hiding stuff in MY belongings.
;“Sure.” The best way to butter Jim up is to supply him with his drugs. He may get mellow and spill the beans.
Ten minutes pass, as I float in my thoughts, watching Jim slowly get trashed. The bliss is interrupted by moans and sobs from Henry’s bedroom. Henry did nothing but cry and bang on the door from the inside ever since he was not allowed to see James anymore.
Since Prince Moretr found out that Jim was shot with a prion. Two weeks ago, yeah.
They say they’re keeping Henry separated to protect him from the contaminant in Jim’s body. But I say it is baloney, because Jim has been affected by it for two years now. It’s like getting AIDS, barebacking your partner for TWO YEARS, and then only start wearing condom when you FOUND OUT that you had AIDS.
I do not claim to be the most logical man, or the smartest one, but even Krotkie with an IQ of 41 can see that it is too late to quarantine someone who’s been exposed to a possible contaminant for TWO YEARS already.
Also, why are they keeping HENRY separate from James? What about the REST OF US? If Jim is contagious, we’re ALL being exposed!
So, please tell me another lie that does not insult the remnants of my intelligence.
“If Conroy came her to surrender to you, why is he so aggressive?”
“But then, Wallace, William did not come to surrender to ME. He came to surrender to Aunt Vicky.” Ji says slowly, his eyes now tightly closed. He is all ears for Henry’s quiet crying.
I’m about to suggest he sends Krotkie to Henry with another “letter of love cat style” - a pair of Jim’s used underwear, when a message appears on my bridgeplate, and, judging by a hoarse scream, on Jim’s bridgeplate, too.
Citadel21: “Regent Kellspell, to my office.”
“Crap! I forgot! I’m already 2 minutes late!!! He will tan my hide!” Kellspell hides the whiskey under the bed, jumps up, and runs through the back door.
Some secretary I am. I remembered that he had to go to Jaguar’s office, but then I watched Jim and William’s domestic, and that flushed me out.
“But if you ever took any one of them by force, out with it, William.”
“Why do you ask?”
;Conroy looks defensive, and I sense his uneasiness.
“Because I already had one man yanked from under me, and as much as I screamed, yelled and begged, Prince Moretr took the side of the accusing women, and my man was removed from the set. No one knows what it took me to make a deal AT THAT STAGE. So, if you were ever involved in anything like that, out with it now. Then we may be able to work out a reasonable deal. But if the bitches dig, and they find out that you raped some woman, and you’re voted off the team, it will devastate our research all over again.”
“But why do you ask now?” Conroy did not budge, and did not give into Jim’s urgency.
“See how he is?” Kellspell turns to me. “ALWAYS argumentative. He’d NEVER let you have your way. Or answer a motherfucking question!”
“James, maybe we need to explain.” I try to soften up the curve.
“Oh, be my guest!” James waves me off. “You want to fight with him? Knock yourself out, no pun intended!”
An opening, a break is all I need.
“Mr. Conroy, if I may. The reason James is asking you now, is because the women of the Emerald Filament Team had obtained a search warrant for your memories. It took them 3 weeks, but they’ve got it. The Arkchil Record will be opened for them, and within the next week they’re going to let us know if they approve of the new member, or if there is anything in your background that might prevent you from joining us.”
Conroy goes pale. The effect of my words on him seems to be many times worse than I could ever imagine.
Now, James goes RED with seething anger. Over the fact that “the chicks rule the roost”, and, also, I think, the very presence of William Conroy makes him mad.
I have never seen him this fuming, this deeply, for this long. Talking about hurtful memories. Whatever happened between them in that warehouse where they conducted their past life regression experiments.
It seems like 6”0 Conroy, whose muscular frame can easily fill XXL size, has just been reduced to a small pile of smouldering ashes.
Kellspell notices that, too.
“Now or never, William.” James presses.
“No.” Conroy finally says through his teeth.
;“No, you never took any of them by force?”
“Correct.” Conroy throws his head back, the arm muscles under his shirt tense, bulging. He is obviously struggling with this whole thing.
“And if you are lying to me, like you always do, and the bitches come back with your dirty laundry, I will become unhinged, William. In fact, I will be so perturbed, that you…”
“First and foremost, James, you were the liar in our relationship. You lied to me all the time, about everything. You lied to me the night Darler killed himself, you lied to me three years later about Merritt, and now throw in your signature “threatening mode”, and here is the good old Freak Kellspell that I recognize!”
“You know what, William…” Jim’s fists curl tight, and the unkind fire in his eyes make me very uncomfortable.
“Gentlemen!” I know I must break them up before they get into a fight, and security will be called, and Jaguar will impose discipline, and then, on top of that, the women will have an extra reason to toss Conroy out and add a few more years to Jim’s house arrest.
“So, William, I have good news and I have bed news.”
“Give me the bad news first.”
“Both women that accuse you of rape are on Strobulus. I do not know them, I did not invite them, but they were sponsored by Women’s Council of Andromeda. Does the name “little Jenny” ring a bell?”
“She was not “little” and she was a loudmouth!” Conroy walks there and back in our bedroom, smoking one cigarette after another.
“Oh, that’s brilliant, William!” James smiles widely at brooding Conroy. “Say that when you go on the stand in your defense. Let me word it better for you: Jenny was a loudmouth, and that is why I beat her. Then I raped her to show her where she belongs!” I guarantee you, the 12-member ALL FEMALE jury WILL LOVE IT!”
Conroy’s eyes fill with anger, which dissipates quickly, and desperation fills him like a sinking car gets slowly filled with water.
“Here is the advice, William: you stay in this bedroom, you do not give any interviews, and you make sure that no one sees you, even through the sliding door window. Your chronic inability to take responsibility for your actions is beginning to hurt us big time.”
“What would you have me do?!” Conroy’s deep blue eyes are solemn, as if he is looking for a way to be a victim in this situation, and finds none, but still refuses to sink.
“You were supposed to confess TO ME when I asked you! Now THEY know everything. And NOW it is going to be THAT MUCH HARDER FOR ME TO MAKE A DEAL to reduce your prison sentence!”
This scene would be the good one to start with, it was very passionate. Remember, Henry Carlton is in his bedroom, only separated by a door. Deeply attached to James, Henry was not allowed to see him for three weeks now. The times when he is not taken by the Arkabins for a jog, or is not giving an interview, he cries and sobs on his bed.
It was 6:34 in the morning, and I was busy controlling three channels at once on my bridgeplate, and answer Lady Ti’s messages, when the Arkabins came in to give James his first injection of the day (they start at different times not to form a fear of anticipation of pain in his mind).
The injection did not go well. James thrashed against his restraints more than normal, and then he bled out of his mouth. I begged the Arkabins to tell me why, but I was stonewalled. Ten minutes into Jim’s incessant screams, I poured the white liquid painkiller into his mouth without being asked. I simply could not take it anymore.
He angrily spat it out. “Not… yet… Uolles… Not yet…” He said between screaming. He is really into it - this medicine. James believes what Prince Moretr’s office is telling him - these injections, although very painful, will reduce your aggressiveness and your psychosis, and he wants to stay stable for his family.
The psychosis you have been experiencing in the last two years, they’re telling Jim, was because of the prion. Shooting at people’s pictures, fighting, angry rants, violet outbursts - it all because of the prion. The medicine will help you with all this.
We, his omegas, and his little H.M. are extremely important to James. He wants to get better mentally and physically to provide us with the best experience.
Question is, DO I believe Prince Moretr? Unfortunately, I have been shut out and lied to SO MANY TIMES already, that I no longer know what to believe. I used to blame Sheba for not trusting anyone. Now I SEEK HER ADVICE on how to handle the reality in which you can’t trust anyone.
And after it was all over, after Jim accepted the painkiller from the bottle I held, he grabbed his cigarettes and crawled out on the lawn.
Then I saw his face and I ran out after him. I thought he choked on the cigarette smoke, or the muscle cramps, the side effect of the medicine, twisted his face.
But it was something else. You know how people put a little sign on their lawn, like “VOTE SO AND SO”. Well, there was a sign about that size on your lawn, that said:
“IHRS - INTERNATIONAL HONORARY RAPIST SOCIETY”.
James was sitting on the grass in front of it, shaking his head slowly. This is when Christopher came out, too. His eyes went wide with horror.
The sound of broken glass pierced my already tormented brain, and a bottle of “Red Label” flew and broke inches away from Jim’s head.
“See!” The voice from the second floor apartment was glorious. “This is all your HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA! Why don’t you open a local chapter of NAMBLA, while you’re at it? Need some boys?”
“ROXFORD AND CONROY ARE STRAIGHT, Isaak!” James screamed back, and stared at the broken whiskey bottle in disbelief. “Fuck! You need to be on Ritalin, Prozac and join AA! To everyone British and Australian - “NAMBLA” is a reference from a “South Park” episode.”
There was no answer from above (no pun intended, I swear!), as Christopher and I were still staring at the sign, large red letters on white, but dirty and crumpled paper. As if someone first stomped on it just to show their disdain.
“NAMBLA?” James got up and started another cigarette with shaking hands. “Isaak, quit accusing me of being a pedophile! Gay people are NOT ALL PEDOPHILES, you fucker! The only boy here is Henry, but simply by virtue of his immature behaviour!”
Again, Milgram did not respond.
“I turned away from broken glass
That shined so brightly on the grass…” Jim engaged his poem weaving app and walked away slowly back into the bedroom, with a lit cigarette. “Don’t let Professor Conroy see this. He will go ballistic.”
Yeah, really, why does Mr. Milgram always throw the bottle THROUGH the window of his apartment? For extra dramatic effect? Can’t he just OPEN THE WINDOW?
Or, maybe, he wants to humiliate Richard Rockford, who is nowadays only allowed to come out at night, to perform janitorial duties on the premises.
I followed Kellspell back inside.
“What happened to the presumption of innocence?” James said, while barely hobbling around with crippling muscle pain, and wiping his bleeding mouth.
On the second floor, in her corner apartment, Matushka stood by the window and watched the whole thing, her eyes unspeakably sad. When I looked up again, she disappeared behind the curtain.
Right before she moved away, the rays of the rising morning Tribelin Engine revealed a string of shiny little diamonds streaming down her cheeks.
Next scene happened the next day. By then the whole Strobulus knew that someone put the “International Honorary Rapist Society” sign on our lawn.
Isaak Milgram took the picture of the sign, and sent it to everyone he knew.
When Jim told me this, I choked on my meager breakfast.
But Jim’s eyes became unfocused right after he relayed the story of the hubbub and the shameful publicity.
Deep in thought, he expressed no further feelings towards the cruel prank.
And he moved on to discuss other issues, including our show’s ratings.
They tripled since the sign on our lawn went viral.
“Now I have to go see Lady Tigress before my next injection.” Kellspell got up from the kitchen table and went to the hall, heading for his former classroom, now the headquarters of the Emerald Filament Team, run by lady Tigress and Mr. Jaguar. “Because surely I will not make any sense AFTERWARDS.”
“What do I tell Henry and William?” I asked into his back, finishing. my toast and the tea.
“Fucking William… Always in trouble, ALWAYS in trouble!” I heard Jim mumble on the way out.
Krotkie noticed Jim’s departure and raced from the bedroom, around the Spiral Staircase and into the hall like a big salt and pepper furry lightning.
Does ANYONE love me the way Krotkie loves James?
I was not present during Jim’s meeting with Lady Tigress, but Lady Tigress does not block her channel from me. So, the recording of THIS MEETING was retrieved in the morning with no problem. Not so much with Jaguar’s Citadel21 channel, as you know.
“My Lady, I’m here before you with a grave concern.” James sits on the floor by Lady Tigress, who is sitting in a chair by a table with tea on it, in her side of the “Former Classroom”.
Her husband, Mr. Jaguar, asked for the separate quarters right in the same room. The illusion panel was installed, and Mr. Jaguar locked himself in there, not letting anyone, but Kellspell and Conroy in.
That’s what they were doing in there for the first three weeks since Conroy arrived - they were having sex.
Between the three of them, always behind the locked doors, Lady Tigress confessed to me tearfully.
Apparently, I was not the only one Jaguar aggressively locked out of his channel to keep his secrets.
And, knowing Lady Tigress, she would never “confess”, let alone “tearfully”. TO ANYONE. This woman is made of steel.
But, at some point, even steel gets tired of husband’s infidelity.
“I’m here before you, humbly to… um…” James runs out of proper English. “To tell you crap you need to know. My homie William Conroy has been accused of rape by more than one woman.”
I tried to teach James proper English, but to no avail. He said that to say “Blasts” in stead of “Fuck” is like chewing on paper pretending it’s tuna.
“So I was told.” Lady Tigress says
“Mr. Conroy first asked me to marry him, like, party much the first day. I was happy to hear it, but what is the rush? But then, he upped the ante and asked me to “Golden Thread” him. Note that Mr. Conroy’s body on Level 1 is 71 years of age, and the “Golden Thread” Ritual is not for the faint-hearted, and I mean it literally. But, that aside, I figured that the reason he’s got a burr up his ass is because he is running from prosecution.”
“And if he IS running from prosecution, what are you going to do, Mr. Kellspell?” Lady Tigress is not easily turned over. She wants YOU to tell her what needs to be done.
“Yeah, so… I’d harbour a fugitive any day of the week, especially a hot blue-eyed blonde. I hate cops, I hate the law. But Dr. Michael WILL NOT LET ME. See, I broke my moral compass, and I now have to share his. My personal opinion - let the chicks go fuck themselves with the rape accusations they can’t prove anyway. However, my wild guess is Dr. Michael would frown on using the holy ritual of “Golden Thread” to shield a violent criminal from fair justice.”
Lady Anne brings Lady Tigress more tea, as Jim’s vital show a desperate desire to start a cigarette. Lady Tigress, monitoring Jim from her bridgeplate, nods.
I love their understanding. I truly do. Lady Tigress sometimes rubs me, and others, the wrong way, but not James. He finds her to be a brilliant and a capable leader.
James Kellspell knows that he needs guidance from those who DID NOT make an ashtray out of their moral compass.
“The chicks can’t do very much here. All they can do is expel Conroy. But if they go for that, our arrival to the Pearly Gates will be delayed by another 4-5 years, because fucking William has all the navigation protocols, and he is the only one who knows how to use them. Without him, as the only navigator, I can only do this much. And everyone hates delay.”
“Sounds like we’re in a pickle. So, what is your solution, Mr. Kellspell?”
“I don’t know how to have sophisticated negotiations, my Lady… Truth is, I have already forgotten how to make deals the human way altogether. But here is the cat way: give me Mowgli, and I will give you a freshly killed bull over there by the river bend.”
“And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Kellspell?” Lady Tigress gets tense because on her bridgeplate she can see where Kellspell is going with it.
“I know that your husband had locked himself in his Citadel21 quarters and he would not come out, or talk to you. You know Conroy and me are the only ones allowed at his place. You mourn his decision, you are hurt by his behaviour, and you want to know how you can have him back.” Kellspell hesitates, staring at his smouldering cigarette, and slowly closes his eyes.
That sets Lady Tigress off.
“Please, continue without dramatic pauses, Mr. Kellspell!” Lady Ti gets heated, but then she makes an effort to control herself.
“I can soften him up, and I can get him out of “his” ego-tower”, where he got himself barricaded. Give me Conroy, and I will give you both your husband and the Pearly Gates. Three years. We will be there in three years. You let the bitches exile Conroy, and you will be staring at your husband’s locked bedroom door for another FIVE OR SIX years, while millions of souls are flushed down the toilet of reincarnation, since only reaching the Pearly Gates will save you from falling asleep into another lifetime. Give me what I want and I will save those you love.”
“I have never heard a threat more disgusting than this, Mr. Kellspell. Way to play other people’s lives in the most heartless of ways. I will have you know that I am completely revulsed.” Lady Ti takes a breath. “That being said, I agree to help you because I simply have no other choice.”
“OK. Then go talk to Matushka, and get the fucking bitches to take expulsion off the table, so we can come up with a deal. The deal goes like this: you let me Golden Thread William Conroy, so I can FINALLY have me a partner, and so I can fuck his ass for Eternity, and in exchange I will make him work for you like a mule, and the bitches can impose any punishment, as long as it is not expulsion.”
“James, I have good news.” Lady Ti beckons Jim into the kitchen.
“Oh?”
“The women are ready to make a deal. But they want to know more about William Conroy. Or, rather, what is he to you and why do you want to Golden Thread him? For that, I must conduct the interview with you, and you will have to answer the questions I have right here on this bridgeplate. Do you agree?”
“Sure beans. You have 28 minutes until my third injection.”
“Understood. Let’s begin, then.”
“How did you meet Mr. Conroy?”
“Are you familiar with “Ellingham Diagrams”, my Lady? In a nutshell these diagrams were developed by a smart British scientist called Harold Ellingham to predict the carbothermic reactions in metallurgy.”
“I’m familiar with that, Mr. Kellspell. Where are you going with it?”
“William Conroy is to psychiatry is what Harold Ellingham is to metallurgy. I will tell you more - William Conroy has developed a NEW SCIENCE, or a new direction of psychiatry which we might call “Reincarnation influence”. He had pretty much proven to me the dependence of a state of a system on its history. Meaning - you are defined by your REINCARNATION HISTORY. In even simpler terms - whoever you were in your past life, you will continue this way in your next lifetime. He came up with such terms as “Hysteresis of Soul”, and what was later coined as “First Conroy Diagram”. Any simpler than that - Conroy blew me away by EXPLAINING and PUTTING INTO A LAW what I suspected all along. And what an elegant law that was.”
“Determinants of mental health conditions”
Treatments of mental health conditions
Professor Conroy’s analytical and research skills were superb. He had hundreds of students that avidly followed his work. All that for real, on Level 1. He was combining the traditional methods with his inventions and theories to blend in smoothly, beyond belief. I was so fascinated by the insane motherfucker…”
“Mr. Kellsspell, please watch your language!”
“Ok, my Lady…” Jim’s nickname is “Shames”. He is a total deviant. He HAS NO SHAME. So, when you try to shame him, he just gets hard and hopes you’re bold enough to slap him, desirably publicly, so he can have tons of un-earned sexual satisfaction.
“At the very least, you can replace the word “mother**cker” with “son of a bitch”, Mr. Kellspell.
“Ahem, “son of a bitch” instead of “motherfucker” is like methadone instead of heroin, my Lady! Are you familiar with the street life at all?
“Silence, Mr. Kellspell! I compel you to answer my questions instead of asking me. Do you think Mr. Jaguar would approve of such loose behaviour?” Lady Tigress says as she is watching Jim’s every thought on her bridgeplate.
Oh, Mr. Jaguar is EVERYTHING to James.
“Yes, My Lady… I mean, NO, MY LADY! Please don’t tell my Commander that I opened up my mouth with you… He will CRUCIFY me!”
I’m watching this, ahem, yes, S.O.B. James on MY bridgeplate, too. Upon mentioning Jaguar Jim got so hard, he literally mentally “sank” like a rock, to the very bottom of the Pond of Pleasure, and stayed there until yelled at by Lady Tigress.
“You are saying that Mr. Conroy has a doctorate in psychiatry? And what degree do you hold, Mr. Kellspell? What made you so valuable to a PROFESSOR that he agreed to work with you for SEVEN YEARS? What could you possibly contribute to his studies? Please remember that many interested parties will have access to the recording of this interview.”
“Whether they do, or they do not, it is all the same to me, my Lady, for I hold no degree whatsoever. I barely finished high school.”
Lady Ti goes into a stunned silence, which is somewhat orchestrated for this particular scene, just for the shock value. For I KNOW FOR SURE she knew before that drug-addicted James could never study to save his life.
“So, what did you contribute?”
“We’d have to jump into “Time Paradox and Seashell Effect” to answer that, my Lady. In 1981, when we started our studies, I was only 7 years of age in my physical female body on Level 1. However, when I was born, I REMEMBERED that I was asleep. So, I woke up and here I was, in my REGULAR MALE body of a 38 year old man having access to, like 300 of my past lives, including the ones on Andromeda. It’s like, being an actor in a period movie, but also having access to all the contemporary technology. Then they think you’re a wizard, but you just remember how to WAKE UP. This is what I had to contribute. While most of the Grey Building of Level 2 slept, we were AWAKE.”
“And when you WOKE UP in your MALE BODY in the Grey Building, what did you do, Mr. Kellspell?”
“Oh, I never really fell asleep there. So, by 1979 I was running with Darler, and by 1981 I was with Mr. William Conroy, the sneakiest snake ever. If you think you were duped by men, my Lady, you do not know Professor Conroy. He can dupe you into doing ANYTHING for him. He will wrap you around his finger, and you will never know what hit ya. Besides, I always had a reputation of a simpleton. Those chicks that accuse him of rape… They should see it differently. They should rejoice in the fact that they were used by the most handsome, the most shameless scoundrel in the history of th world. This is how William sees it, anyway.”
“There is no glory in that, Mr. Kellspelll. And I do not feel like I was “duped by men”. That was very offensive!”
“Got it, my Lady. I don’t know if I was ever used or “duped” by men, either… I fucked so many of them…”
“Mr. Kellspell!”
“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, the first time I saw him, he was in the buff, looking for drugs. The slender body, the curves of a Greek god, the blonde hair, thin and feathery… And a glance of lovely blue eyes that read: “I accuse you of hurting me. You stand accused. I am after you. I will get from you what I need, and I will make you serve me.” I should have listened to my intuition, but I think he set it all up to snare me. It worked. For seven years I worked with him, and I took care of him, and I supplied my own research data to supplement his, so we could get things going… He was NOT going in the right direction, but Professor Conroy is such a manipulative man. He will use these ego-language protocols, like “you owe me”, and “I helped you, and now is your turn”, and, every time you ask him “ how are you?”, he’d say “you have an hour?”. You get this? He SUCKS YOU DRY. Have you EVER met a man who’d say “you got an hour?” every time you ask him “what is going on with you?”. It’s like - every time I go there, and he is there, he orders me around, and I always do what he tells me to do. And then, when I express my opinion, and I say - maybe we should change this or that, he says “I’m going to do what I want to do” and he never listens.”
“All in all, Mr. Conroy is an arrogant, manipulative, confrontational man. And whatever these woman said he did, he probably did it. Can I please have him? I will never ask you for anything again if you let me have that asshole. Now, I have to go for the injection. Wallace, get that painkiller out, but DO NOT pour it into my mouth until I tell you to!”
Interview # 2
“I need to ask you a question that might and might not be related to our topic. What are these scratches on the bridge of your nose?” Lady Tigress is looking directly at James, trying to get him to lower his eyes, but he remains unrebuffed.
“Um… I thrash about during the injections a lot. Must have hurt myself.”
“You are not very good a lying, Mr. Kellspell, despite of what Professor Conroy says about you. During injections your hands are tied. There is no way you could have caused that to yourself during the injections. I can tell you, however, where these scratches come from.”
“Go ahead and tell me.” Kellspell takes a deep breath and watches Lady Ti’s eyes narrow with an unkind fire within.
“These scratches on the bridge of your nose are from the belt buckle of trousers. My husband’s trousers.”
“Yeah, u-huh.” James nods with very little expression. “He unzips his trousers so he does not have to take them off. And there would not be any scratches, but he grinds my face into his crotch, and this is where I can’t avoid the belt buckle hitting my forehead, or my nose.”
Lady Anne comes in with a late meal, but Lady Tigress waves her away with visible frustration.
“Why did you make me pull it out of you? Why not just admit that you’ve been having sex with my husband since we have arrived?” Lady Ti crumbles on the chair and throws her head back. “I married a sexual deviant…”
“Well, I needed you to tel me so I could gauge the depth of your pain. If I’m here to heal you both, you both need to be more accepting of each other. Mr. Jaguar is not a “sexual deviant”. He is just bisexual.
“So, you made me say all this to see the wounds of my heart? Do you want to see me bleed every time he desecrates and dishonours our Covenant?”
“Do you want him back or not? A lecture is the last thing he needs. He feels he was deprived of stuff BECAUSE of the Covenant. You let him have me and Conroy and we might just coax him out of Citadel21.”
Lady Tigress breaks down.
“There… Come on.” Kellspell goes on one knee, embraces Lady Ti, and puts his disheveled head on her lap. “Sometimes, it is all about homosexual agenda! Ask Isaak Milgram!”
“What did I do?!”
The scene with the letter to Ms. Dawn.
“Dear Ms. Dawn!
I’m, glad to see that your husband is finally here. Kurt and I go way back. As you know, he is the Gold Card holder. This allows him access to Strobulus at any time. People line up and try to break through the door, but it took YOU five years! You fucking had better things to do than accept my Golden Card Invitation to the Pearly Gates. Whatever, you sore bitches.;;Anyway, as a Gold Card holder, Kurt has all the rights to all the amenities and stuff. The main thing - to be able to invite your friends/family. He has a right to invite as much as 300 dumb lay muggles of his choice, plus Demetra Visa rights.
Words can’t describe how much I hate all you incredibly imbecilic, narrow-minded sleep-walking muggles.
Back to my thoughts.
So be it, against my own sound judgement I decided to give you the same rights as your man. You can also invite 300 of some stupid bitches and the Demetra Visa Rights for anyone you ever worked with.
Enjoy your stay. Money that you’ve earned for yourself will not transfer here. Only the money that you spend helping others will work. If you do not have enough, I will cover all of your family’s expenses.
But, somehow, I know you will have enough. Your hubby is a crazy motherfucker, but you held your man in check this whole time. I want to give you credit for that.
Let me know if you need anything.
You can come to my Uret/Jaguar Citadel21 Headquarters”
“But what did I do?!” Kellspell howls as Lady Ti drags him to the Spiral Staircase, in front of at least 10 women, seated on chairs around the Tea Table and on the Mood Rug. “I wrote her a nice letter, and I gave her the same right s as her man, and here you are dissing me!”
“Do you believe that people of color are lower than you, Mr. Kellspell?”
;‘What? No! If a black man is a Professor of a University, I’ll hate him just as much as I hate William! No discrimination there!”
“Hate”? You will “hate” him?” Lady Anne raises her reading glasses to get a better look at Kellspell, standing by the Spiral Staircase, looking like an errant kid at a parent-teacher conference.
“Sure! For achieving more than me. I’d hate ANY MALE for that. White, black of indifferent.”
“What about a female Professor?”
“No. I will not hate her for that. Chicks are stupid, so the reason she is a Professor, is because she slept with the right person in the position of management. And that person, white, black of indifferent, made her his whore, and he made her a Professor. So, i would not hate that. That’s life.”
I watch Matushka listen to James. Her eyes go wide and she slowly brings a hand to her mouth.
“Ok, Mr. Kellspell. Can you please describe what you think you wrote incorrectly in the letter to Ms. Dawn?”
“I have no fucking idea, Lady Anne! I don’t even know why I’m here! I wrote the bitch a sweet letter, I gave her the opportunity to invite as many friends AS HER HUSBAND, my totally most venerated homie Kurt Dawn, God bless his heart, and here I am being clobbered to death by you people. I think it IS because of my liaison with Professor Conroy, who you made into a bad guy, because you have nothing better to do than listen to his accusers, who made it all up to damage his sterling reputation.”
“This is the most deranged response I have ever received in my entire life, Mr. Kellspell.
“I have no more questions, Mr. Kellspell.” Lady Anne concludes in a dry, businesslike manner. “The Council will give its verdict soon.”
The last one was SCARY.
The verdict might mean that William Conroy will not be allowed to be on the filming set of Emerald Filament reality show.
And James knows it. But he is not a diplomat, and he simply has no idea how to be one.
If Conroy is exiled, it will devastate James.
Is there a hope for us?
In the 7 months I’ve been working with James, and 10 months since I arrived to the set, I have gotten to know Lady Anne as a very intelligent, but long-suffering woman, and a selfless fighter for the truth.
But after a testimony like that, not just Conroy, but Kellspell himself is going to get voted off the set.
Albeit the only navigator we have.
It will be upon her now to convince the Women’s Council to pull through Kellspell’s deal.
Do not put THIS MAN to testify in his own defence. “I killed her because she was a stupid bitch! Can’t you stupid bitches see my point?”
It would be hilarious if it is not tremendously tragic.
In fact, so tragic that I walk into our bedroom, get a bottle of Canadian Whiskey, and drink greedily, as another member of the the Council continues to grill James, now on his 7-year relationship with accused rapist William Conroy.
It has become so easy to get drunk nowadays. Since William Conroy arrived, James became involved in one or another questionable activity.
He gets caught and disciplined for all that, and that is why he drinks even more.
James hides his stash in the drawer of MY underwear. Male solidarity, right?
It is the time to give James his 4th injection, and the Arkabins are already here.
As soon as Kellspell is done being tormented by the Women’s Council, he is going right on the bed, he will be tied up, and given a very painful injection that also delivers about 300 calories at a time. Times six a day. And he is only 5”7, 120 pounds to begin with. He is gaining weight to put Buddha to shame, and it brings him down even more.
“We are going to conclude this interview, Mr. Kellspell. Is there anything else you want to say?” Lady Anne puts her glasses back on, and goes back into her bridgeplate.
“Yeah!” Kellspell nods vigorously.
NO. The advice is “no”. You dug yourself, and Conroy, deep enough.
But, watch James the Unsinkable and Indestructible.
“I’m going to show you what love is.” Kellspell is smiling, and his smile is not kind. “When are you going to come up with a verdict? Because I’m going to time Golden Thread Ritual accordingly, and by the time you convict Professor Conroy, it will be me, Henry Carlton, Wolf “Krotkie” Hafnian, AND baby H.M. facing the noose. Possibly, Richard Rockford and Wallace Smith. Even Mr. Jaguar. He will show you how to do it right. I will put you all into a position where you will be forced to hang five to seven people, before you get to Conroy. Do your worst. See you at the gallows. And when you’re done, I will dig up dirt on every single one of you, use my connections to start a smear campaign in the Andromedan press, I will topple your Council politically and I will request Kumlatov for another Strobulus, leaving THIS ONE without a navigator. Your chances of achieving the Pearly Gates in the next century without a navigator are zero.”
With that, Kellspell walks away from the stunned Council, and right into the hands of the waiting Arkabins.
Way to spit in the face of justice, James. If he ever follows through on any of these terrifying threats, he will be violating ALL of his vows. And he knows it. But the proprietary feeling and the territorial imperative, both of the ego-programming, are making him defend what he thinks is his. Namely, long-lost old flame William Conroy.
Soon, Jim’s screams are too loud for anyone to discuss anything. The Council disbands begrudgingly, leaving only Lady Anne and Matushka huddled together, holding each other by their shoulders.
“What the fuck does this mean? “They already have a verdict”? James?!” Conroy is over Kellspell, who is on his bed, working the bridgeplate.
Lady Anne acts as William Conroy’s defense attorney, explaining that James Kellspell has enough karmic credits to request and enable the Golden Thread Ritual to amalgamate Conroy into the Alloy, compelling the Council to impose punishment on the entire Kellspell Team, not just Conroy.
William Conroy is notified that his 71-year old body on Level 1 will not be able to survive the Golden Thread Ritual.
“Well, that was your plan, wasn’t it?” Conroy sits on the bed, while Jim drinks straight from the bottle of Canadian Whiskey, provided by the most kind Mr. Rubinstein. “Now you’re going to throw me to the dogs?!”
“Relax.” James starts a cigarette. “You know how when you want to buy something expensive, but you do not have all the money right away, you can pay by instalments?”
“You can get married by instalments?” Conroy pulls a cigarette out of Jim’s pack as the curtains of Henry’s Chamber are moved by the wind.
;Yesterday James could not handle it anymore, and broke the door to get to Henry. It was right after his third injection. He was in too much pain to give a damn about any orders anymore. They also were not Mr. JAGUAR’s ORDERS that Henry was to be sequestered.
IF they were Mr. Jaguar’s orders, James would have died of longing by Henry’s door, but he would have never done anything to upset Mr. Jaguar.
There was a belated suggestion from William to just go around and get Henry from the backyard, as the sliding door of his bedroom facade the hedge of our lawn, and was always open.
But any idiot can just go around through the back door.
BREAKING the door to get to your forbidden love was very dramatic, and very Jim-like.
Every dumb fat rich Grehedi cat on Andromeda switched their channel from the news to our reality show to see that.
I was watching the ratings going way up, promising incredible revenue for Moretr Industries as James rushed into Henry’s bedroom, and covered his hands and his face with kisses after not being able to see him for three weeks.
There was a reason as to why Henry could not see James for three weeks.
Once Henry was led out of the bedroom, and James helped him step over the shards of the broken wooden door, Henry saw William, instantly knew everything (because he’d been listening to our hubbub this whole time), and sat in his chair by the dresser with the mirror, darker than a night cloud.
“This is what happens when you disregard the orders.” Lady Tigress waves her finger at James. ‘Henry, come here. Please, don’t pout. Your “daddy” is going to marry this man, so there is someone to help him take care fo you, Krotkie and H.M. All of you karmically underage, blind and asleep. James has his hands full between his school, his wok and the three of you, and you just need to understand, that William is going to be your caregiver.”
Next scene, in which James finds out that William Conroy had faked his age to appear more mature to James, so James would agree to conduct a research with him. Conroy told James he was “30” years of karmic age, when he was only “18”.
“William, WTF?” James screams, as the sun, a Tribelin Engine, sets to our right. “You were karmically “18” this whole time? Now I UNDERSTAND as to why you because fascinated by them damned lizards! That is why you never listened to me, and that is why you committed these sexual assaults! Because, your whole life, you had the mind of an immature teenager!”
“Am I disqualified now? Are you going to discard me? Is it what will happen? I tried to cover it up, and it worked. For a while.” Conroy crumbles on Jims’ bed. “What is going to happen to me after you discard me?”
Kellspell approaches the sitting Conroy, and kisses him on the cheek ever so gently. “How can I discard YOU, when there is a hole in my heart the size of the Gem of William Conroy, whom I left, but could never forget? I will not make the same mistake again. It’s been thirty years of not being able to get over the fact that you were not in my life.”
“I put sigils on myself so you could not see the true me.”
“I know, William! I gave you way too much credit because I believed that you were karmically thirty. The first time I saw you, you had more sigils on you than a Sheiredi, and they INVENTED them.”
“Why haven’t they worked?”
“They worked like the Winchester this whole time, but for the Golden Thread Ritual I must conduct on you!”
“You married Smith and he still habors a whole bunch of secrets you have no idea about!” William points at me, and I should be mad, but I’ve been here since February (LKS21), and I’ve been working on humility, big time. When the ego is telling you to go “defend yourself”, it is LYING. There is NO “YOURSELF”.
“Yourself” is an illusion meant to hurt us. It is “ourselves” that get hurt. Remove ourselves, melt them back into the Ocean of God, and we will know peace. Continue to defend “your boundaries”, what is “you” and “yours”, and you will waste your life on needless fights.
Flowers could take place of those fights. Simple living could take place of those fights.
LOVE COULD TAKE PLACE OF THOSE FIGHTS.
I am wisening up to the ways of the ego-programming. Soon, I will be free from it, therefore unstoppable on the way to Happiness.
And happiness is NOT freedom.
There is no freedom from love.
You can’t be free with a loving partner and 2-3-4 children.
So, what kind of FREEDOM do you want?
Freedom is another word for “loneliness”.
Freedom to love is what poison to your food.
So I do not respond, even as William is attacking me.
And the wisdom pays off. I do not need to defend myself. James will defend me.
“I married Smith, but I did not “Golden Thread” him. I Golden Threaded Krotkie, who was already one with Henry, as Henry was too karmically young to have the Ritual performed on him. I am now ONE with Henry and Krotkie, but not entirely ONE with Wallace and Richard. You - I must appropriate quickly, or I might lose you. THAT IS WHY EVERYTHING you ever hid from me is going to wash up. The Golden Thread Ritual leaves you completely naked in front of God, AND your partner. Not everyone is ready for it.’
“And so, we had this thing between us. Late at night he’d come to the warehouse, and I would hurry as soon as I could, having shed my 8-year old body back in Moscow.” James spreads his hands, passing there and back across the bedroom.
A desire to lose weight after the high-calorie injections now makes him want to move all the time.
“I would enter the room he made his bedroom there, and where the metal drawers with drugs were, and sometimes he’d hear me come in (it was a five minute walk from the entrance across wooden, dirt and concrete floors), and by the time I’d enter his room, he’d be on the bed, naked, with his eyes closed.” James throws back his head, full of memories, and longing.
;Lady Anne nods in encouragement, Henry sits in front of his dresser, staring into his own reflection in an attempt to hide his intense jealousy over the events over 30 years ago, and i watch William, sitting on the bed, with his head down.
“And… um… I’d get on the bed, and run my hand over his lean, muscular body…” James comes to sitting William, pushes him gently backwards, and starts kissing his lips as William eases himself on the pillow. “And he’d let me kiss him on the lips as he would get hard, like a pump, with efery kiss…”
James proceeds to do exactly that, and William lays there, motionless.
Jim is smiling as William lays there and cries. Jim kisses every tear running down Conroy’s cheek.
Henry covers his face with both hands. “I knew one was there. I saw it. Only I thought IT WAS GORDON…” He whispers.
“Surrender to me, Professor Conroy, and then we can rule Kellspell together!” Henry comes behind William and says as if ti himself, but actually into Conroy’s shoulder. “I know you came here to surrender. But you do not have to surrender to KELLSPELL. Many have surrendered to ME.”
“Like who?” Conroy shakes his head in disbelief.
“Like Kyle Merritt.” Carlton snaps back, retaliating for Conroy’s disbelieving tone.
“I’m glad to announce that after much thorough consideration Professor William Conroy has decided to surrender to Regent James Kellspell.”
“I can’t believe my eyes, William! Night after night you spent crying on my shoulder over everything Kellspell did to you, and how cruel he was, and how he dumped you, you still crawl back to him, like a dog!” Carlton’s eyes are cold and his tone is scathing. “That means that you have not suffered enough!”
“It’s not like that, Henry.” Conroy is doing his best to appear composed. “And thank you for all the emotional help you provided for me during these difficult weeks when there is not enough James to charge us all. It’s just that I think that we can’t avoid the suffering. So, I embrace it. But while at it, I also want to be loved. No one had ever loved me more than James Kellspell.”
“Here are the conclusions I came to, while watching William struggle with his discoveries.” James glances at the Andromedan clock on the ceiling. “I have fifteen more minutes to my first injection, so, we must wrap it up, my Lady. it is really hard to come to God when you have achieved so much in life. Who ever walked away from money and fame to be with God?”
“Cat Stevens.” Lady Anne shrugs.
James moans and shakes his head as I’m DRINKING WHISKEY at 7:49 am. Straight from the bottle. Kellspell believes that he is a failure in life, since he could never interest anyone in his research. He had no degree, and he could never hold a job.
Kellspell concludes, that people like him will have no problem surrendering to God. There is nothing to lose for them in secular life.
I can FEEL him filling with poison as he sighs and frowns, and continues to spill his guts to Lady Anne over how uniformly painful his life had always been, with only a few bright spots.
“The Rotarians…” He muses. “Being a porn actor… That was fun. But it was too few and far between, and it never lasted. I know I’m making Father unhappy, because I am failing to accept His Will for my life, but I spent my life in indentured servitude. Only and ever served one, rather rough man, my H.M. Tried to earn a living as a writer, and THAT activity went like a lead balloon. Really, a rock could fly farther. And when you look back at your life, all you see is beatings. And I know, you bitches got beat up, too. But your beatings were interspersed with the projects, on which you were needed, respected, and duly reimbursed. Granted, I have no use for money, being needed at a cool creative project is still a dream of mine. But I’m almost 50. Who will ever invite me anywhere? And why?”
“He is shooting up NES-sp.” Lady Anne enters into her LHS SeaRock bridgeplate. “Probably in “anticipation” of the injection.”
“Blyat, I can hear your every thought, Lady Anne!” Kellspell sits on the bed by Conroy and takes his hand. “I’m not supposed to be eavesdropping on your communication with Moretr or Melekh. Did you put the blue sigil?”
“Oh, sorry…” Lady Anne smiles, and rubs the air in front of her much like you would try and clean up a dirty window. She’s been here longer than me, but not my much. And she can already see stuff I still can’t.
“What I was trying to say is - I understand why William
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
CHAPTER 136 (this file - from 119)
(Repeated here - the main HEADLINE is TEN PAGES UPWARDS);
“The Van Der Waal’s Effect”
The Confession Hour. ;
Jim’s Confession Hour. ;
Boy, if he EVER knew HOW MANy people gather to listen to this, he’d never utter another word again. You know why?
Because Regent James Kellspell, now accepting a FOURTH dependant, DOES NOT want to appear weak in any way. Yet, he is only human.
“My Prince, I have been gaining a pound of fat a week with these injections!” James howls into the skies with his head thrown back, in Prince Moretr’s office, with Henry standing and holding on to the back of his chair, with his knuckles white and his face tormented, Krotkie laying at Jim’s feet, young H.M. in Jim’s arms (a bear cub, sleeping), and now William, naked, but wrapped in a sheet, standing by his right.
“We may be able to find the injections that do not cost you 300 calories a shot.”
“Thank you…” James folds over, holding on to his stomach, he says will soon put Boddha to shame.
“What are your other concerns? You just took in William Conroy.”
“William is fine!” James dismisses with his right hand, while his left is on his stomach, “I/m ok with him. He is sweet and very tender, as always. Henry does not take kindly to him, especially after William chose to surrender to me INSTEAD of Henry, and all that drama I had to deal with, and comfort my sweet Henry, but it is nothing in comparison with ho quickly I’m gaining weight with these injections.”
“I already got the, James.” Moretr nods, in his chair across the table.
“Maybe, you need to “get it” again. My Prince.” Lady Anne butts in. She took up a volunteer role of our advocate, and she is now helping us deal with stuff that was killing us for so long. “James started the ‘anti-aggression” injections a month ago, and THEN you guys saw that the side effects were weight gain and sluggishness. He is NOT allowed outside. So he can’t jog. You said you were going to bring in the treadmill, and it’s been three weeks since you said that, sir!”
“My Lady Anne, we’re doing everything we can…”
“Are you inventing a TREADMILL from scratch, is than why it is taking you THREE WEEKS to install a treadmill in Regent Kellspell’s bedroom?”
“My Lady, there are other solutions BESIDES a treadmill.”
“Like what?” Lady Anne shakes her head. “Weight gain is Jim’s worst problem right now. He complains of not being able to get up, of feeling heavy, and “I’ve never been this fat”, and all you do is POSTPONE those solutions!”
“Yeah…” Jim says slowly. “The point is, I refused to take the three shots I was supposed to have this morning (I get six a day altogether), and they did not give them to me. But then, I realized that my aggression and annoyance went way through the roof, and I had a fight with H.M. on Level 1, and it was a thunder cloud and lightning fight. I hated it, he was berserk, and ti was all because I was ANNOYED, could not control my moods due to the fact that I did not have those shots this morning. So I cursed my ass for for refusing the shots, and when the men showed up in the afternoon, I said - hit me. They hit me with three remaining shots - and suddenly, my life is god again, and I forgot all about the fight with H.M. on the way back from the grocery (in Dillon, MT), but then my weight sky-rocketed… My Prince, i’m having my FOURTH dependent. William is sweet, helpless, and he needs me like a child needs a father. They say I became much nicer. But, however, I will be a very nice FAT FUCKER, if something is not done. For a WEEK I ran THREE MILES a day around the lawn under Lady Anne’s supervision, and the problem is - that did not do any good. As if in a mocking fashion, my stomach had become even BIGGER. And it is true. They say that my every injection is 300 calories. Times SIX a day. Did you know that it takes 122 minutes of WALKING fo burn 500 calories in a 120 pound man? So, it’s half an hour of RUNNING against almost 2000 calories s day I get JUST FROM the injections. My Prince, I’m literally running to be nice, and only doing less than half of the necessary time. This is not looking like bright future. What are the good news you can give me?”
William is on our bed face down, naked, with just a sheet across his butt and legs. James sits beside him, massaging his shoulders most thoroughly, then he goes with his back, and, finally, his ass and legs.
Conroy is out of it. His eyes are closed, and he has not moved in twenty minutes Jim has been giving him massage.
Well, this is something these walls have not seen before. James himself does not like massage. Neither had he ever given anyone any massage, because he finds it boring. But not with William.
“I missed you so much, William…” James whispers into Conroy’s neck as he rubs the biceps of Conroy’s left arm. “I loved you when I left you… I tried to forget you. Thirty two years, my love… I tried to forget you this whole time, but I knew I left half of my heart with you. And a better half, at that…”
“So, apparently, my Lady, THAt was the reason as to why it took them THREE WEEKS to resolve Jim’s jogging problem. Yes, it was an illusion panel. More like an illusion corridor, leading to a clandestine place in Montana. The corridor is called “Lemhi Pass”. It took them awhile to construct a passage that could be physically crossed - from Strobulus to Earth and back.”
Lady Anne is talking to Lady Tigress, as I see on my bridgeplate. Apparently, there is no end to what you can achieve, or reach, vis this bridgeplate.
With an appropriate permission, of course.
I just set my LHS SeaRock bridgeplate to pick up BOTH sides of the conversations I hear (including, but not limited to, the phone), but I just can’t get the left blue field to open up. Lady Ti’s answers are there. More work is needed.
‘And today Kellspell, Krotkie, Henry, Smith and Conroy spent ALL DAY exercising Kellspell by building a dam over a creek made of rocks and mud. Rocks needed to be picked up and delivered to the dam site. They drove POLARIS Rangers, and other equipment to obtain the rocks. They came back dirty as miners, but, alas, with a lot less gold.”
They both laugh. I KNOW that Lady Ti is laughing, too. Even as she is going through tough times with Jaguar.
“Anyway, you could write your name on Kellspell’s cheeks, so dusty he was. Yet, he refused to take a shower. I said - if you don’t take a shower, I will not let you have William. Sweet, lovely, submissive William will not be sleeping with you tonight.”
I was there. That was funny. Jim’s DeVo is pushing him towards feline behaviour more and more. It is hard to get him to take a shower nowadays. Lady Anne, our kindergarten teacher, is responsible for our well-being until Lady Ti and Jaguar come back.
They better not come to a pandemonium with a whole bunch of dirty, fornicating, drinking cats. By the way, William was DeVoing into a Comodo dragon, not a cat.
THAT IS WHY James left him. But now he is so happy to have Conroy back, he can’t get enough of the man, and says he no longer cares what animal Conroy is DeVoing into, as long as they are together.
Conroy cries every night into Jim’s shoulder. My bridgeplate shows he is crying out of gratitude. Jim took him back with two assault charges against him.
But then Richard Rockford came clean enough and THEN assaulted Jim. And Jim did not care.
The most important part of my review of the last week is Henry Carlton.
Everyone was very happy to see William Conroy back with James after over three decades apart. Everyone, but Henry.
Henry ALWAYS knew that there was ANOTHER. Only he thought it was Gordon. I personally believed it was Kurt, but then Mrs. Dawn has explained to me that Kurt and James were just friends. If Kurt and James were lovers, she would have known. And I have to give it to her. SHE would know.
You might have a brooch with a few stones. Then, the MAIN stone falls out, and an empty setting remains. All other stones are there, but for this one.
And “this one”, the lucky, the biggest stone to be brought back into the setting had turned out to be William Conroy.
Sheba believed it would be Darler. But Ms. Patricia has explained to both of us very clearly, that Darler-Kellspell liaison was illegal and against her wishes. She left Kellspell a bunch of messages to his room in the Grey Building, asking him to end his relationship with her husband.
When I confronted James with that info, he agreed, apologised, and released all ties with Darler. Patricia generously let James continue to take care of Darler’s grave. But nothing more.
And then, there were no more stones on the table. Both me and Sheba were wondering, WHO IS that so stone that fell out.
And then Lady Tigress and Jaguar took care of that. Aunt Vicky found William Conroy, actually. She wants his for herself. But she gave him to James to get the man back into spiritual shape.
James is overjoyed, the sigil that covered their 7-year turbulent relationship is removed, and - here we go. Both Sheba and me are stunned how well James and William fit together. They ARE the stone and the brooch re-united.
James, hysterical: “My Prince! The ego-program threatens to “crush me” and “destroy me”, and “make sure you will have a lot of pain and a slow, torturous death”. I CAN’T BELIEVE I RECORDED ALL THESE THREATS TO MYSELF!”
“Kellspell will crash, and he will go after you. He is only nice when he is not down. Be prepared to handle his worst of moods.”
Sheba to Lady Anne, as means of relaying experience of dealing with James.
4:28pm, and the sun is setting. It’s last, barely warm autumn rays light up Jim Kellspell’s distressed face, twisted by a large amount of NES-sp poison he shot up about 40 minutes ago, against his own wishes and without asking for anyone’s permission.
I used to blame the Tribelin Engine for the fact that no matter where the sun is, its rays always touch Jim’s face, but then I found out the following conversation that took place between Prince Moretr and James:
Prince Moretr: “Once you surrender, you will be confined to your bedroom. Would you like the windows of your place face the sunrise or sunset?”
James Kellspell: “How about both?”
I mean, only in HIS WORLD that could be possible. And he said it twice, too. The first time he was asked, he said “both”, and then, for 25 years both SUNRISE and SUNSET touched his dirty, weary face. On Level 1.
How? He lived opposite to another building, and, as his windows faced the SUNRISE, the sunset was REFLECTED against the windows of the apartment complex OPPOSITE to his, and that’s how he got his wish even on Level 1.
On Level 2? Energy here is a lot more “liquid” than in the world that we know (Level 1). Here you can ask for anything.
Granted, James ALWAYS asks for ANYTHING that comes to his mind, AS IF he is ALWAYS on the lovely, liquid Level 2.
Here he is, on his bed, contemplating going for a run in our new “Lemhi Pass” corridor/illusion panel. It allows him to roam the woods and NOT be in the common areas.
“I have no idea as to why I am even among you guys…” Jim hates himself, saying that to Lady Anne, but today he is down. And he makes us feel it. “I was never allowed to express myself creatively. No one ever cared about my work. No one ever read my books. I was never reimbursed for any of my work. I was never appreciated for ANYTHING I did in life. And if I was, then it was 10% appreciation and 90% beatings from Dobry and H.M. Why am I even afraid of death? My life is such a waste of everyone’s time.”
“You’re really hurting me, and Melekh, Prince Moretr, AND WILLIAM with these words.” Lady Anne plays the only card that will work here.
Since William was brought in, James found himself in much better moods. Even amongst the news that he was shot with a prion, and now it would take six most devastating injections a day to keep the invasive program in his body at bay.
Their deep mutual attraction is easily felt by the entire team. I envy Conroy’s position with James. And there is nothing I can do. It’s all about seniority. No matter how ancient I might feel, Professor Conroy beats me by quarter of a century. He and James were lovers by the time I was very young and inexperienced twenty years of age. And Henry was in primary school.
“I don’t care!” Kellspell screams out, falling into one of his raging rants.
“Look at me, James.” Professor Conroy sits by the bed and takes James by his hand, so very tenderly.
“You are not going to take me down with your methods, William! It’s been a long time!” Kellspell resists, his face angry.
“I want you very much, James. You are the best lover I ever had.” Conroy persists, rather calmly. Like you drink water out of the bottle. The bottle crackles in your hands a bit, and that does not prevent you from drinking. You just grab it a little tighter, maybe. Or turn it over. It is your bottle and you grab it any way you want.
It is fascinating to watch Jim’s lovers taking him down in every which way they have learned that works.
Henry would rile James up with his routine, get him all bothered up with his psychotic outbursts, and then run into his bedroom and lay there face down, and pants down, hoping that he “wound Jim up” enough for Jim to come fuck him. Jim would never disappoint.
Professor Conroy exhibits the behaviour of a very experienced hunter, who knows exactly how to turn over this stubborn turtle of James Kellspell. You will see that in just a second.
;I can do neither. I can only HOPE that James will notice me. But I would never attract his attention in any way. I love James and I want him to have me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But I’m just not that kind of a person who could DEVISE AND IMPLEMENT A STRATEGY to get someone they want.
Also, I swear, there is something about my position. Sheba always complained about being “invisible”. The Arkchil Operator is like the photographer, who made all this record happen, but the public will never see him on those photographs.
“.. Hold on!” James turns away from Conroy. “… and your friend Dr. Robin Whatshisface with a PhD in clinical psychiatry, and Professor Christopher from that faculty, ALL of these bitches you told me about! You and all your friends are just a bunch of overindulged fat cats, William!”
I, personally, would not know what to do with the situation, where I want to be kissed, but instead get
“James, come on.” Conroy shortens the distance between himself and his long-lost love by bringing his face directly to Kellspell’s. Not a good strategy right now. Rabid as he is, James just might hit you. “Kiss me.”
“I’m not falling for this, William, for the love of God, it’s been thirty years, during which I thought about EVERY TIME YOU SEDUCED ME WITH SEX so you could continue to USE me, making me assist you in your dumb research that very nearly killed you!”
“I will let you remember what happened your way. But please know that I love you very much, James. No matter what you think of what happened between us, I want to feel you inside of me. Now.” Conroy continues without ever paying any attention to Jim’s resistance.
And here he goes. Kellspell is kissing Conroy in the lips, and soon Conroy pulls down Jim’s pants and proceeds to give him a very passionate blow job right in front of ALL OF US.
Well, James is a kind of an opponent that needs to be taken down by ANY MEANS NECECCARY.
Kellspell throws his head back, and he is subdued.
Goal achieved.
{William Conroy channel: Music on the background: “Pozovi Menya S Soboi” by Alla Pugacheva. James, do you remember this song? It was in the letter that I sent you right as that song came out. Call me… I asked you, I begged you. You never answered any of my letters, you never called me. You threw me out of your life and you forgot about me. But I did not. I never forgot you.}
“And so, this is what “Van Der Waal’s Effect Prion” is - The dragonfly will only be able to lift off the surface of water IF it REMEMBERS that it is not just one insect, but a PART OF SOMETHING MUCH BIGGER.” Lady Anne scans the appearing text as William is holding his hand to the Left Interface Channel, running rapidly downwards.
“You bitches are full of shit.” James sighs. “If Moretr’s people could not figure it out, how can you?”
“Ye of little faith! Here it is!” Lady Anne sinks her hand into the text on Jim’s LHS SeaRock bridgeplate, and pulls out a glowing green thread. “You owe me, and you owe William!”
Lady Anne brings up her bridgeplate and reports to Lady Tigress: “All good. I think we can reverse the prion now. All James needs to do is NEVER FORGET that he is a PART OF A BIGGER ENTITY. Then the prion’s program is doomed. It can hold only ONE mind at a time. But not a multitude of them.”
1916 026 81 72 Ariel Flavus
“We already knew all that, my Lady.” Moretr spreads his hands, and their fingers extend somewhat. It is the only feature that he allows to get through his illusion of human appearance.
“You knew what the dragonfly needed to do? Why didn’t you tell it to James?!” Lady Anne is irate.
“What good would it do? What you have discovered is just theory. In reality no one ever was able to overcome the illusion of being stuck.”
“You give us time. You will see. We’re going to pull him out!” Lady Anne takes a deep breath, trying to control her emotions.
“You. Have all the time in the world.” Moretr says soothingly.
“If we get him to break the tension, will he no longer need the injections?”
“True, but you will not. He is stuck there forever.”
“But then no one owns “forever” but God, my Prince! Has ANYONE tried to ask for His help?”
With that, Lady Anne storms out of Moretr’s office.
“Not on Andromeda, no.” Moretr shakes his head.
Classical James:
;“William, I need to help Mielada with homework. There are two numbers here. 154 and 145. They look exactly the same to me! Which one is bigger?”
“154 is a bigger number, James.” Conroy approaches Kellspell from behind and breathes into the back of his neck, rubbing Jim’s shoulders ever so tenderly.
“Got it.” Kellspell nods gratefully. “Now, just for giggles sake, if you put “1” behind “45”, will it still be the same number?”
“No.” Conroy shakes his head and nibbles on Jim’s ear as Henry gets out of his bedroom and watches that with his eyes wide open, his mouth twisted in anger of jealousy.
Level 1 laundromat. What may sound insane to you, is the every day occurrence here with us.
H.M. wanted his pillows washed, so we accompanied James and young H.M. to the public laundromat. After the pillows were washed, Jim put them into the dryer. The amount of time to dry the pillows: 62 minutes.
Note to self: Don’t show James ANY numbers. He freaks out and tries to get out of the situation where numbers are involved.
“OK! 60 minutes is two hours. It is now 10:30 am. I’m going to put the alarm at 12:30pm.” He says, frowning into his phone.
You should know James. Raised by the military parents, his voice is always commanding, although hoarse. He also speaks with a lot of confidence.
In fact, his confidence is so solid and so contagious, that it takes away your desire to argue, no matter what. You tend to agree, when someone takes charge with such deep internal conviction of their righteousness.
And I DO NOT argue.
But William can’t handle himself.
“60 minutes is only one hour, James.” He says almost apologetically.
There are color blind people. Poor James Kellspell is “number blind”. To him, all numbers look like meaningless squiggles.
To James, “60” is nothing but a squiggle “6” and a squiggle “zero”. Together they can mean anything, and amount to anything.
“One hour” to him is the time that passes between “12 o’clock” and “1 o’clock”. But how many minutes are inside? It depends. Sometimes he thinks it’s a full hexagon (15 X 4), and sometimes he imagines “one hour” to be only half hexagon (15 X 2), and it never fazes him.
“No way!!!” Kellspell makes big eyes at Conroy, as he leads him out of the door without any hesitation. “60 minutes sounds like A LOT of minutes. At least two hours! 60 minutes is only one hour? Ha! Maybe in Australia!”
And Kellspell winks at me.
Again, i smile politely, and choose silence. What’s the worst thing that is going to happen? He will come back one hour later than necessary. Who will steal these old pillows? There is no one here anyway.
They say that it takes three years to learn to talk, and it takes your whole life to learn to shut up.
I’m still at it, achieving success today.
Finally, Conroy gets it.
“Please forgive me. Please, don’t throw me out for disagreeing with you… I have nowhere else to go!”
“You don’t have to be this way, my love!” James turns to kiss Conroy on the lips. They both close their eyes and caress each other’s faces with their lips for a good five minutes. Good thing, there is no one at the laundromat. “It’s OK, you made a mistake. There is no way these pillows will dry in only one hour. So, “60” must mean “two hours”. This is the correct logic, William. You must agree.”
“I do! I agree, James!” Conroy seeks more caress, but Kellspell gets businesslike and leads us out to the street.
Evening, and Kellspell is doing his chemistry homework
“Do you like my new bra?” I open my dressing gown (Henry’s old dressing gown).
So sensual.
James loves to kiss William Conroy’s lips. He grabs them wit his lips so greedily. He caresses them with such incredible force, like his life depended on it.
Cory’s keys, that Jim found on the way to Citadel 21.
“No one cares that I found the keys in the middle of the road! H.M. NEVER acknowledged me. He never asked me “how did you find the keys?” He just took them from me, and THAT WAS IT!!
James suffers from lack of appreciation.
I have been standing here for hours, and he never noticed me. He does not care what, or how much I do for him. He never appreciates me. And I have to take it, because I signed up for martyrdom.
“What a tremendously disappointing day on Level 1! I guess I will never hear ANY appreciation…” James muses and drinks himself into oblivion.
William, who is more desperate for Jim’s attention than fish for water, sits by his side, holding his hand.
There is no room for me. Or Henry. Or ANYONE, for that matter.
;“The year is 1985.” William recalls. “James was sent to a “pioneer camp” for a month, because his grandmother in Crystal Valley could not handle him for 3 months at a time.
;So, he goes there, Level 1, and then, as soon as he can fall asleep in his “despicable female body” in there, he goes straight to Level 2, into the Grey Building, where he wakes up in his male body of a 38 year old, and rushes to the warehouse, where we were working on our “Reincarnation Research.”
“Was he upset that day?” I try to ask a relevant question.
“Oh, yeah.” Conroy nods. “And here is what happepend. It was his and his team’s duty that day in the cafeteria. So, all day they worked there, peeled potatoes, and washed floors in the entire building. It was very hard to do, Jim recalled, the cafeteria was very big, and the mops they were given were heavy. But there was a reward there - those children who did their job well, were called the next day to raise the flag during the morning lineup. So, James whipped his mates, and himself, to do the BEST JOB ever possible, knowing that tomorrow morning they would be rewarded.”
I know, that nothing good can come out of this story, and James, who went through this over 30 years ago, is sitting gloomily on the bed, held by William, the only witness to his early life.
“But the next morning it rained.” Conroy continues with a detached face, because he learned to handle Jim’s pain, as well as his own, with a certain detachment. A valuable skill, what can I say.
“James was deeply disappointed, and so were his mates. But he told them that tomorrow is another day, and they will be called in front of the entire camp of 400-500 children and teachers to raise the flag as a reward for the good service in the kitchen.”
“Carry on.” I encourage, knowing how this is going to end. James was 12 years of age on Level 1 at the time, but because he was 38 in his body on Level 2, he experienced everything not as a child, but as an adult man. Makes it that much more painful.
“But the next day, during the line up, there were already OTHER HEROES.” Conroy continues. “The next day those who served THE DAY BEFORE in the kitchen, were called to raise the flag. So, the night of that day James rushed to see me in the warehouse, and told me that he wanted to DIE when he saw OTHER TEAM being called to raise the flag. I told him - there will be other opportunities for you to get accolades. But he said - I’m so distressed over this, that I will NEVER do ANYTHING for ANYONE again.”
Today, 36 years to the date, James is sitting on the bed, crying his eyes out, that he was not rewarded for something that happened when he was 12.
“And this is my life.” He concludes, drinking straight from the bottle of whiskey. “Today I FOUND Cory’s KEYS in the middle of the road. And H.M. SAID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT ME, MY ACHIEVEMENTS, OR THAT I’M EVEN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH. I WANT TO DIE.” He screams hoarsely, trying to break away from Conroy’s grip.
“I will agree that 60 minutes is TWO hours, James.” Conroy leans over, kissing Jim’s distorted mouth over and over. “2+2 is 5. I will be on your side no matter what you say, James. I don’t care if you’re appreciated or not. I will accept you in rags or riches… Please, look at me.”
Mr. Conroy is desperate to get back with James.
So am I.
I appeared naked in front of him today, wearing just the bra. And all he said was - “Oh, cool, Wallace! This bra is “too white” on you. Have you tried any darker colour so it does not contrast with your skin so?”
THAT WAS IT. No one knows I am transgendered. No one knows I’m a cross-dresser. This is my BEST-KEPT secret. If they find out - I will lose my family, my job, my reputation, everything. And at 60 years of age this is the end of you.
But James never cares about that. DOES HE have the skill of APPRECIATION to ask for it of others?
“That’s right, William.” James nods, letting Conroy reach out and kiss his face all over, and reach out for his lips.
He’d never let ME kiss him on the lips. Or Henry. Or even H.M.
“Ever since that time I lost hope in ever being noticed.” Kellspell spills, shooting up NES-sp RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. “I KNOW no one cares about me. Not even my Level 1 only partner - H.M. Everyone likes to BE APPRECIATED. But very few care to return the favour.”
Yeah. James is one of those people who cares not to return the favour. As much as I do for him every day - I’m treated like furniture.
This is exactly what Sheba said. Think twice about taking up this job, she warned me.
But what can I do? I have been waiting to get a job with James for nearly 20 years. Granted, Conroy howled at Jim’s door for 30 YEARS… Still. That does not make my torment any easier.
“Desire for appreciation is of the ego.” Lady Anne reminds calmly. “What would you do if THEY appreciated you? You’d take it DIRECTLY to the black hole of “your” ego, James, and it would never be enough.”
Kellspell does not respond. He is too hungry for the “ego-drug” of appreciation to hear Lady Anne’s cautionary tale.
“Lady Anne, for the love of God.” Kellspell finally says, rolling his eyes, as if he is forced to explain the simplest of things. “I know you’re holy, but I still don’t know why I AM AMONG YOU AND THE LIKES OF YOU. Every single one of YOU enjoyed A LIFETIME of appreciation. All I ever got from life was pain. Even as I perform miracles finding a man’s car keys on a stretch of the road 3 miles long - H.M. does not give a damn. He just took the keys and delivered them to Cory Bristow. Fuck BOTH OF THEM for that. I WANT TO DIE.”
“Patience, James.” Lady Anne reminds. “We ALL will eventually die.”
“Patience my ass. I’m 47 years of age, and chances are, I will die of some medical condition in complete obscurity, and H.M.’s children will find my Letorn Borilis archives, and they will drag it out of the attic, and they will throw it into the dumpster. This is how ALL my legacy will end, because YOU ARE THE FAVORITES OF GOD, and I’m INVISIBLE.”
During that angry speech he momentarily pulls his hand from Conroy’s sweaty grip, and takes him into the cross-hairs of his burning glance.
“YOU ALL are FAVORITES OF GOD! All He sees is YOU. But for me - I’m like his fucking horse, He piles up the hardest things for me to drag, and pull FOR DECADES ON END, for the smallest of salaries. I get beaten by H.M. almost EVERY DAY. And I get ZERO appreciation.”
“You will get more than any of us could ever dream of.” Lady Anne is trying to stay calm, but I see that she is torn between pitying James, and calling him out on his behaviour.
Conroy reaches out carefully to take Jim’s hand again.
“Fuck you and your fucking promises. All I will see tomorrow will be BEATINGS. All YOU will see tomorrow is NEW interesting projects and plenty of ACCOLADES.” Kellspell rips his hand from Conroy, climbs into bed, and pulls the blanket over his head. “Never time I go to any one of your dossiers, I see that ALL OF YOU are working on the NEW PROJECTS EVERY YEAR!”
“I know you’re upset, James. Don’t hide.” Lady Anne has plenty of patience, and she knows how to handle the hedgehog of Kellspell.
“No, you don’t!” Kellspell pokes his head from under the blanket, his eyes full of tears. ‘When we received the call from Cory about his keys today, and drove back to Citadel21, Level 1 for 20 minutes, I was nauseous, because my body was on my period. I was sick, I felt like I swallowed an elephant, and I WAS HOPING that when I found the keys, H.M. would be ELATED, and he would like to know EVERYTHING on how I found the keys! But he did not give a damn. He just took them, said “we’re heroes”, and called Bristow. THAT WAS IT, FOR THE REST OF THE TRIP HOME. FOR 30 MINUTES, IN VAIN, I WAS WAITING ROR HIM TO ASK ME A SINGLE QUESTION ON HOW I FOUND THOSE KEYS. And he did not give a damn. It’s JUST LIKE 1985, when I worked like a dog in the kitchen, and then I WAS FORGOTTEN for the moment of appreciation. It all repeats, and I have NO HOPE to EVER be acknowledged for ANYTHING I have ever done for anyone…”
“James…” Lady Anne begins, but Kellspell pulls the blanket over his head again, and answers no more.
“I guess this is over.” Conroy concludes. “I told you what you need to know about what happened in 1985 for you to have a frame of vision in connection to what happened today on the road. He no longer wishes to talk. Everyone who does not have the clearance, please leave the premises. I will now put James to bed.”
THE EMERGENCY MEETING
The VERY DIFFICULT meeting.
I was awakened at 3 am this morning, by Lady Anne in a dressing gown. Her large, deeply compassionate eyes, full of waning moonlight (Tribelin doubles up as a moon at night), were right in my tired, unshaven face.
I got up, even as knew that she would see me wearing a bra and women’s underwear.
She paid no attention to it. She would be the last person to judge you for your non-violent life choices. Live and let live, she says.
God bless you, Lady Anne.
“Get them up at 5:45. I have an announcement to make.”
Anne’s eyes glistened with tears and I feared she was going to announce that William Conroy would be voted off the film set.
There was motion and sounds of footsteps upstairs.
“Lady Anne…” Dr. Michael’s voice was a quiet whisper, but I could hear his every word. “I need you back as quick as you can.”
So, she left quickly.
On the bed, by my side, James slept in a tight embrace by Conroy’s large, imposing, greedy frame. Conroy’s nose was buried in Jim’s hair, and his body was tight against Jim’s, as if he wanted to speed up the Amalgamation process by simply being glued to Jim at all times.
Next to them - Henry and Krotkie, with Krotkie laying straight, not curled, embracing Henry’s shoulder with his hairy paws.
Jim’s Gold-Threaded Family.
About to be broken up.
I swallowed hard, realising that Lady Anne wanted me to be the bearer of bad news. For sure, the Council decided “off with Conroy’s head”.
So, 5:45 am. I get them up, and get them dressed, and listen to the verdict of the Council, and watch James conjure up a gun, and shoot everyone in the room, and then himself.
Conroy will be led away, and off the Strobulus.
Everyone shot by James will be revived.
James will step down as the Navigator.
Lady Anne will have no choice but to accept the responsibility. She is the ONLY OTHER qualified navigator to the Pearly Gates.
The problem? She is TOO LIGHT. Too HOLY. Her path to the Pearly Gates only takes ONE HOUR (about 1,5 years). TOO FAST for 90% of the passengers.
It’s like wanting to get to the store, but instead of getting into the car and driving for 10 minutes, you will be there in ONE MINUTE, airborne by an eagle. Sounds fun, but might cause you a heart attack if you’re not ready.
For so many, a ten minute ride to the grocery store is still a better choice.
If Kellspell steps down, and Lady Anne takes over, many on this ship will not be able to handle the speed with which she is able to reach out to God.
So many need more time to awaken to the Truth.
They will be robbed of that time if Kellspell loses his desire to lead us.
James and William got up easily. Feeling my mood, they both got dressed and sat on the bed by 5:50 am, calm and cold, awaiting the news of Wiliiam’s “execution”.
It was a struggle to get Henry up. After James threatened suicide yesterday, Henry was heavily medicated to prevent him from hurting himself. James IS his life, and Henry has been mortally afraid of Jim’s unstable mental condition ever since they knew each other.
Richard Rockford, dressed in working overalls, finishes to clean our bathroom. He is to retreat into his room by morning light. Such are the conditions of his stay at Strobulus. Narrowly escaping the exile for the same charges as William, he is to perform community service at night and not be seen during the day.
One slip and Rockford if off the ship by the order of the Women’s Council.
6:00 am
Lady Anne is standing by the Spiral Staircase, dressed in dark-blue suit, her long hair combed back most thoroughly, her face calm, and her manners busness-like.
“I have called this meeting to discuss two issues.” She looks at every single one of us with a stern glance. “What happened last night, and the chain of command. Wallace Smith, Regent Kellspell’s Arkchil Operator.”
“Here, my Lady.” I can’t believe I’m still here.
;For so many reasons.
James is not fooled by the fact that Lady Anne did not say “the exile of William Conroy”. He is waiting for it, even as it was not mentioned on the agenda.
“James Kellspell, Henry Carlton, Wolf “Krotkie” Hafnian, as One Amalgamated Unit, Golden Threaded for Eternity.”
“Here.” James raises his hand, his head disheveled, his weary body in a dire need of shower and his face in need of shaving. He quits all that once he gets depressed.
He will quit that altogether, once he loses William. James is not planning to be noble about it. He is planning a huge revenge. He revels in the fact that the Mission fully depends on him, and he will not cut anyone any breaks if he does not get what he wants.
What he wants is William Conroy.
Henry is seated right by him, but he does not stay upright for too long. After a few minutes he lays on Jim’s bed, face down into the pillows and remains like that for the rest of the meeting.
He was given strong medication to control his depression due to Jim’s suicide threats, and he can’t stay awake.
Krotkie goes around the room, sniffs Lady Anne’s well-ironed pants, and lays down on the floor, looking up at her with a cute submissive smile, his wet nose reflecting the ghostly morning light, and his long tongue hanging out.
“Very good, honey.” Lady Anne scratches the wolf behind his ear. “Now go lay by James and Henry.”
Krotkie does as he was told, curling on the floor around Jim’s feet.
“First and foremost, James, you will not throw around the name of “Robin Williams” anymore.” Lady Anne’s glance is hard, directed at Kellspell like the edge of a sword.
At this, Conroy winces.
“Mr. Williams had a medical reason to commit suicide, and you are absolutely healthy. So, for the sake of his memory, you will drop your unethical comments once and for all. You will also quit threatening suicide. Your behaviour is unfair towards your own team members. Every time you talk about “hanging yourself in the closet” during one of your psychotic episodes, the Moretr Medical Team has to inject Henry with a horse’s dose of a tranquilliser. The poor young man loses his grip on reality, as he can’t handle a future without you. If only just because of that. You say you love Henry more than your life, and yet, you hurt him without any regard for his feelings.”
“OK.” Kellspell nods simply.
He is not going to argue now, in front of everyone. On my bridgeplate I see that he wants to say “I’m late for my morning jog via Lemhi Pass”, but I send him a message, discouraging him from disrespecting and antagonising Lady Anne. It won’t do us any good, and it won’t change anything for Conroy.
For the worst is about to come. The Council IS GOING to take a swing at his cherished William. That’s why we’re here. To witness the announcement of the shameful conviction and exile.
“With that out of the way, we move on to the chain of command. Mr. Conroy.”
Chain of command?!
“Yes, my Lady.”
‘Please, come over here.”
Conroy gets up and stands on the Mood Rug.
The Mood Rug turns frosty purple. Dark, insidious purple with whitish swirls within and on the edges.
“The Council has convicted you of two counts of sexual assault based on irrefutable Arkchil Record.’
Conroy raises his hand to brush back his hair, and his hand is shaking.
Kellspell wakes up from his daze, his eyes wide, and my bridgeplate shows that he is about to blow up.
Even as we have been EXPECTING this verdict.
Lady Anne sees that, too. And she is ready for it.
“As per the rules, Mr. Conroy, you are to be exiled from the set of the “Emerald Filament” reality show.”
Kellspell covers his face with both his hands, his shoulders tense. He is not about to cry. He is about to blast Lady Anne, AND the Council with every threat available to him.
The message from him on my bridgeplate reads: “THEY JUST FUCKING DUG THEIR OWN GRAVE. I WILL STEP DOWN AS THE SHIP’S NAVIGATOR. WATCH THIS FUCKING SHOW GO TO PIECES.”
Luckily, Lady Anne is prepared for that, too.
“However, Prince Moretr’s record shows that you seem to be THE ONLY ONE who can effectively control James Kellspell.”
Kellspell’s eye brows go up in surprise. It looks very funny, as the rest of his face is still covered by his hands.
“So, you are appointed as the leader of the Kellspell-Carlton-Hafnian Unit.”
Conroy’s mouth falls open and the colors of the Mood Rug underneath his feet explode yellow, and then dirty-green.
It takes him a minute to gather his wits for a response, during which Krotkie smiles and wags his tail dog-style, Henry does not move, and James removes his hands off his face to stare at Lady Anne incredulously.
“I should be happy and grateful, my Lady.” Conroy begins. “But let’s put “reality” back into this reality show. And keep it real. While I might agree with your favourable conclusions, and the position I do not deserve, what makes you think James will listen to me? He got rid of me once, when he was done with me. Why do you think he won’t do it again?”
“But do you agree to take the position, Mr. Conroy?”
“Of course, I do, my Lady. There are still legal issues. There may be other contenders. They’re called “Darler”, “Kurt”, “Bill” and “Chris”.
“Furthermore, because of your aging body on Level 1, it was decided to stretch the Golden Thread Ritual in time. What normally takes only three minutes, will take twenty five minutes. It is about 6 to 8 months our time.” Lady Anne catches Conroy’s glance and makes him look down.
As he does that, he hides a surprised, happy smile.
“Please do not jeopardise your position, and do not do anything stupid meanwhile. You WERE convicted of two counts of sexual assault as per Arkchil Record. This will NOT go away. You ARE under house arrest, only to use Lemhi Pass to leave for exercise, with prior permission and under supervision.”
“I understand, my Lady.” William nods.
“You were given a second chance, Mr. Conroy, and God help you if you blow it.”
“When the process of Golden Threading (Amalgamation) is complete, you will be
Kellspell-Carlton-H.M.-Hafnian-Conroy
with Smith and Rockford to join at a designated time.”
My heart jumps. I MIGHT be Golden Threaded to James after all. That means he still wants me even as he knows I’m transgendered.
“It was also decided to strip James Kellspell of the control over the Amalgamated Unit.” Lady Anne continues, and, at hearing that, Jim’s face does NOT change from happy and smug. “His leadership is compromised by his mental illness. William Conroy, with all others equal, was found to be more mentally stable by far. He is to take charge of the Kellspell-Carlton Unit, and report to me.
“Holy Mother of Jesus, thank you!” James is heard whispering, as he is leaning against the sliding door with his eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Fucking bitches did deliver the best outcome I could ever dream of.”
“Shhh…” Conroy comes to him and holds both of his hands in a powerful grip. “The worst is yet to come.”
“For all of your threats of quitting and sabotaging the Mission, and all of your unsavoury behaviour, Mr. Kellspell, you are to be removed from ALL the positions of power.” Lady Anne’s voice thunders throughout the Spiral Staircase hall.
Kellspell gives her a glance of narrowed eyes, but says nothing. This is the time to blow up, but I know, my beloved James has NO lust for power.
“You are no longer in charge of the Emerald Filament Team. You will no longer make ANY decisions connected to the progress of the show. And if you know what’s good for your fellow convicted sexual offenders Mr. Rockford and Mr. Conroy, you better watch your mouth and your behaviour. God’s love may be limitless, but the Council’s patience is not. From today’s date (10UKJaguar), I will be in charge of the Emerald Filament Show, reporting to Lady Tigress. Lady Tigress will be reporting to Aunt Vicky, but that is none of your concern. With that, we conclude this meeting. Thank you, everyone.”
“My love….” James leans over to the semi-unconscious Henry and kisses his cheek. “II know it’s been a roller-coaster this last month, and you spent three weeks sequestered from me because I had to be re-joined with William. But by the Grace of God, we all survived it. You will have two parents now, like a boy should. I know that you do not know William, but he is a lot more stable than me, and he will help me take care of you, baby H.M. and Krotkie, and…”
Here James breaks down and cries for a long time, his face buried in Henry’s wild curls. He pulls a bottle of whiskey from under the bed and drinks greedily, while his hand lays protectively on Lord Carlton’s shoulder.
“I will never leave you. I will never betray you. Sleep tight, my love. This is going to get better.” Jim’s tears fall of Henry’s face, and the vapour from the whiskey reaches out to me.
I hand James a napkin, and he accepts it with gratitude in his swollen eyes.
“I lost all my legal power to control the Project” he says through his tears. “But who gives a shit. I’ve got my family. Now I’m complete.”
“What is your first memory of each other?” Lady Anne asks.
“So I walk in, and he stands there, stark naked, with nothing but a watch on his left hand. And don’t get me wrong, I was not the type to chase just about any guy. But this omega was so well-built, so gorgeous. I knew that one was for me.”
“Take off your watch, he said.” William chuckled. “It’s not what you think. I got it at K-Mart for $24.99, I responded.”
James laughs.
“Do you remember what you answered to that?” Conroy takes Jim’s hand so very carefully, as if it was made of crystal.
“Ha! Yeah.” Kellspell closes his eyes and relishes William’s caress. “I said - you don’t need to impress me with how rich you are. I know you’re an American. Just take off the watch, and I will fuck you.”
“The love-making session was incredible.” Conroy picks up, kissing Jim’s hand. “I was bi-curious, but in my position I had no freedom to explore that. So, I have never been with a man before. Jim was my first. But then we laid in each other’s embrace, and Kellspell asked me what I did for a living. “I’m a Visiting Fellow at Duke University, I responded.”
James giggles. I know something very funny is coming up.
“I did not expect him exactly to hit the ground in worshipful adoration…” Conroy looks at James with a smile, but people WERE impressed by my credentials. Not James. He broke out laughing. He laughed for what must have been a long minute. What’s so funny, I asked, taken aback.”
“Visiting fellow Duke? Sounds feudal, I answered.” James watches William kiss every finger on his hand. “He must be lonely if he pays you to visit him.”
“Who? I inquired, confused.” William sits closer to James and puts his hand around his shoulders.
“The darned Duke.” James lowers his head and laughs quietly. “And besides, why do you visit him at a university? Sounds boring. You should meet at a pub instead.”
Lady Anne shakes her head and smiles. “Were you using the level equaliser app to talk?”
“No. I gained access to my Isotropic Surface files and retrieved my English skills pretty soon after I woke up in the Grey Building. It’s the understanding of the American culture that I lacked.” James gets up, and as soon as he does, William hands him a pack of cigarettes. “Thank you, my love. You do not need to be so subservient. I will not leave you again, I promise….” They kiss for another few moments, as Lady Anne pretends to be involved in her bridgeplate.
Note to self: Conroy is very smart. I must also learn to anticipate Jim’s desires. Be ready to give him what he wants or needs.
“What did you have to contribute to Professor Conroy’s Reincarnation Research?” Lady Anne rubs her right palm over the edge of the triangular bridgeplate, possibly calling for an Archive backup. An interesting move.
“As far as our research was concerned, I brought in a hefty chunk of my own research data. Like, pieces of the puzzle. He did not have nearly enough pieces. And some pieces he could not get simply from where he was standing at the time. However, I would not diss his education, no matter what I brought, or how much. William was a medical doctor, after all. He studied biology, and he’d go on for hours about how various medications affect your brain, and your thyroid function, and this interaction, and that stuff. It was impressive.”
“I see here that your family thought you to be the lost case.”
“HA!” Kellspell straightens up and stiffens in Conroy’s tight embrace. “No. I THOUGHT THEM to be the “lost case”.
He growls under his breath and tries to wiggle out of Conroy’s grip, but William reaches out to kiss James in the lips and that relaxes the man somewhat.
“It is in the Russian culture not to respect the children, or anything they have to say. Every time I tried to explain to my family as to why they were in pain, and as to why I was depressed, they’d shut me down like a barking dog. I mean, not even try and listen, and dismiss - simply tune me out. So, by 1978, in tremendous amount of pain and completely alone, I knew I was not going anywhere with them. My grandmother used to say “when the adults talk, you must listen.” And I was like - when I talk YOU PEOPLE should listen. But it was the culture where the adults run the show, and children have no voice whatsoever. And also, my family was military, my grandfather was an AirForce Major, and he was not about to “listen to a private”. He saw everyone around as “privates”, saluting to the Colonel who lived across the valley from us. Mr. McGregor… Anyway, I was bummed out over not being respected, and THEN, 1979 rolled around, and to make matters worse, I got entangled with a Marxist. Probably, my old memories were triggered when I listened to his bullshit. I ran with them back in London at the end of the 1800s…”
“Is that the lifetime where you were hanged for robbing a bank?”
“Yeah… The same lifetime where I got Henry killed. William and I were together in that lifetime. He was Aunt Vicky’s boyfriend. But….Another disappointment….” James sighs and makes big eyes at Conroy. “William had NO INTEREST in researching any fucking past lives where we were HUMAN! All he cared about was get into the skin of a Comodo dragon!!!”
Momentarily, William removes his hands from James and covers his face.
“It’s OK, my love.” James runs his hand, smoothing Conroy’s hair. “It’s over now. So, answering your question, that made my blood boil… Once I realised that my family was not going to listen to me, I never listened to them. That is how I escaped all the indoctrination. By 1979 I was my own man, and the doors were locked.”
“I mean, what were they THINKING when they shut me out like that? I guess, they weren’t!” Agitated, Kellspell gets up and walks there and back. Conroy watches him with his mouth slightly open, ready to pounce back on him, like a bee on a flower, greedy and desperate for the nectar within. “By 1980 I was a solid Chinese Wall. I was going to show them how it feels when you’re not being listened to. You’re a child, you will listen to the adults, blah-blah… Fuck you. The “adults” weren’t making ANY SENSE. They were drunk on ego-poison, sleep-walking, and believing that what was around them, was some kind of “reality”, to which they had to conform. And here I am, freshly from God, still retaining the Memory of Him, KNOWING darn well that NOTHING in this world makes sense. Basically, I was their Messenger of Good News. But, inebriated and fucked, they dismissed my conclusions like the meowing of a cat, when they themselves were delirious, and unaware of it. Well, fuck that. I locked myself in the tower. Luckily, I was awake on Level 2.”
“Is that when you answered Professor Conroy’s ad, looking for a partner in his research?’
“No. I did not meet William until 1981. Not before I crash-landed on Darler and his crap. Jesus, what was my problem? Even as Patricia’s message sounded loudly in my room in the Grey Building, like, every day! “Don’t fuck with my man, it said. STAY AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND.” Well, first, I did not figure out who “her husband” was. I just dismissed the message. But HAD I LISTENED to Patricia, I would have never left William. William had ALWAYS been the better choice for me, but Darler was brighter. Also, William appeared selfish to me, only caring about his stuff, always running with his buddies Dr. Robin and Dr. Christopher he always talked about. Both those other guys were “tenured”, and William hated that, and envied them… But one way or another, all three sounded like overindulged fat cats. But Darler… He was in and out of prison for defending the poor, organising rallies to help the fired workers, going on hunger strikes in prison to attract attention to the plight of the simple people… Blaming capitalism for the lost and ruined lives… His was a cool path.”
On hearing that, Professor Conroy pulls away from James and breaks down crying.
“Come on, William. It’s over now. I made a mistake, ok? Many mistakes were made. I went for a Marxist, you went for the Commodo dragon… We both were misguided. But it’s OK…”
“No, it’s not…” Conroy whispers into his hands. “It’s a lifetime apart.”
“No! It’s just 33 minutes apart! We are immortal, hon! We’re INDESTRUCTIBLE, and we’re ETERNAL. Now, that we got rid of what got between us, we KNOW we were made for each other. This is how it’s going to be.” Kellspell hugs Conroy, and reaches out to kiss William’s ear. The only thing not covered by Conroy’s shaking hands.
;Conroy winces with his whole body.
“What was the main disagreement between you and your family? Was it because you were gay?” Lady Anne asks, entering Jim’s answers into the bridgeplate.
“Well, no. While I never concealed the fact that I was gay, that was just a very small problem in comparison with what we ALL were facing. You may be gay all day long, but if you’re ALL on a Titanic, and we’re heading for the iceberg, your sexual preferences are not going to play any role… My main concern was that they were sleep-walking off a cliff, like lemmings. I felt like I was born into a herd of mooing cattle. They were being driven by some forces, and all they knew was that they had to go, and follow, and conform. I knew it was only a matter of time before they would be driven off the fucking cliff… They were trying to get me to conform and march with them, but I was trying to wake them up, and tell them that their cards were the losing ones. We were inside of an illusion. But they told me to quit meowing and eat my food. Dumb asses. So, in a nutshell, William and I embarked on a journey to figure out how to break out of the illusion, and WAKE UP. So that WE would not be driven off the cliff, too…”
Lady Anne nods, and touches the top of the bridgeplate with the fingertips of her left hand. Her fingers get submerged in pure, blinding blue.
“Yes, imagine THIS - the year is 1981, Cold War, my father, who had had enough of the bullshit, is in the Resistance to the Soviet Government, reading the books of Solzhenytsin and Varlam Shalamov, I am with a MARXIST, whom my father hated and told me to stay away from, but EVERY NIGHT I go, work and SLEEP with an American scientist, who is trying to break out of the ILLUSION OF IT ALL.”
“Fascinating.” Lady Anne says, her eyes firmly on the changing colors of the bridgeplate. “Then what happened?”
“Then 1982 happened, Darler is in EAST Berlin, making out with his new German wife, whom I really liked, and who did not speak ANY English. Every time I called his house in Berlin, and wanted to talk to him, Heike would pick up the phone… I’d have to ask my mother how to say stuff in German, because Heike did not speak a lick of English… Anyway, these records are not going to be made public any time soon, right? Because Heike is still alive. I can’t do this to her…”
“Do not worry, James. Nobody that you mention in your recount of the events will be exposed.”
“OK…” Kellspell calms down and sits by William, who takes Jim’s hand and holds it very tight, his lips coming close to Jims’ face, seeking to touch his cheeks. “… So, one night, as I’m just off the phone with Heike, and Darler is NOT home, because he is running with his friends on behalf of the poor, and cares nothing about ME, or his new wife, for that matter, I decide to fuckitall, put my silly small girl body to bed, and wake up in Grey Building. I go to our warehouse, and wait for William. William comes in, sits on the bed, tells me again that, um, Dr. Robin is NOW “triple-board certified”, and he wants to open private practice in Chicago, and he will be raking in shitloads of money, and he, Professor Conroy, has not made very much progress, and Duke University might pull their funding of his research, and today this student was disrespectful, and said this and that, which upset Professor Conroy…”
“You were going to tell something important.” Lady Anne interrupts Jim’s stream of consciousness down the Memory Lane.
“I was getting to that, my Lady. But we have 17 minutes left to my second injection, so I must try and finish SOME THOUGHT before that. After that, alas, I will be fucked and bleeding for the next half an hour…”
“What happened to “surprise visits at no particular time to eliminate the fear of pain”?”
“Oh, Prince Moretr did away with that routine. It is by the hour now. That stuff was not working, and made things even worse. Now I know that my next shot is at 9 am. But with the system you just mentioned I’d wince every time there are footsteps outside in the hall, because the Arkabins with the injection MAY BE COMING at any moment. So, now we only have 14 minutes left.”
“Then hurry up. You stopped at “Darler is not home. You just talked to his new wife Heike. You leave your female body on Level 1 in your Moscow apartment. You wake up in your OWN body of a 38 year old Irish man in the Grey Building, and you go to the warehouse where you and Professor Conroy were conducting your past-life regression experiments.”
“Yeah…” James looks at the Andromedan Clock on the ceiling. “12 minutes. Wallace, grab the painkiller, but for God’s sake DO NOT pour it into my mouth before I tell you to. Anyway, I do all that, wait for William. William comes, and there is something different about him. In fact, it’s been brewing a while, for weeks. I knew, but OUT OF RESPECT….” James pulls his hand from William’s, and gets up. “…out of respect, William, I was NOT looking into your life… When I should have. I should have gotten a hint on how dishonest you were, and how much you hurt both ME AND MARY!”
“What happened that particular evening, James?” Lady Anne tries to keep Kellspell on track.
I look at my watch, and we only have 7 minutes left.
“That particular evening, my Lady, Professor Conroy showed up, and sat on the bed. I was like - what is going on, William? I know that Dr. Robin’s academic success and the disrespectful student are NOT the reason as to why you’re all jacked up. And he is like - today my divorce from Mary is final.” I’m like - WHAT DIVORCE FROM MARY?? Apparently, this gentleman was preparing this secretly, for months. He SAYS he dumped his wife for me, but he never told me, OR HER, anything that was happening in that blonde, blue-eyed, insane handsome head of his!” Kellspell takes a few steps back and shoots Conroy with a glance of his irate eyes.
“This is not what happened, James…” Conroy sighs and lowers his head.
“This is EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED, William!” James rolls his eyes. “That is why Dr. Robin and Dr. Christopher WERE tenured, and you were not. It could be because you were known for being DISHONEST, and the management of the University was leery of you. If you did it to us, then you did it to them!”
“James…” Conroy looks like he was slapped in the face. He gets up and reaches out for Jim’s pack of cigarettes.
“Fuck, William! This is why I left you. Because on the OUTSIDE you are the sweetest of kittens, but on the INSIDE your massive intelligence, controlled by “your” ego, allows you to play everyone against everyone to get what YOU want, regardless of collateral damage!”
“It was not me who lied about his liaison with a Marxist.” Conroy whispers barely audibly.
By Jim’s anger-distorted face I know that William is going to get it now.
“It was not me who was shit-faced by 9 am in the morning the days you did not have to teach at Duke!” Kellspell retorts. “All you EVER cared about was being inside of your head, and chewing on mushrooms to regress yourself into the worlds that were WAY below zero, the worlds of massive, unaffordable escaping proximity from God, and not giving a damn about what your partner, or YOUR WIFE had to say about it!”
“4 minutes.” I say, and look at the door.
“Crap!” Kellspell catches his breath. “Anyway… The night he FINALLY got rid of Mary was the night I knew we were not going to make it. He broke his Covenant, and that was going to sink us karmically. He told me he did it “for us”, but I knew he did it for himself. I was never against Mary. I respected her for putting up with this asshole. His wife was sensible, experienced, also a recognised medical professional. She may have been a bit too “controlling”, but she just wanted to keep the man in check. He did not like that. He never did like it. And he left her. Believe not when he says that he “left his wife for James Kellspell”. He left her so he could be free FROM EVERYONE. Because if he left her for ME, he’d have listened when I asked him NOT TO REGRESS into a lizard! This man is a liar, and this man deserves his conviction and his sentence! But….”
The door opens and here they stand. Three Arkabins. One with a syringe, and the other two with a suitcase and the belts to tie Jim down.
“Fuck!” Kellspell growls as Lady Anne gets up, and Professor Conroy falls to his knees in front of James.
“Please, don’t send me away… James, I’ll do whatever you say, please….”
“Listen…” Conroy brings his face to Jim’s, covered in blood.
“No, YOU listen…” Kellspell tries to talk as blood is gushing out of his mouth. “You are one sneaky, very dangerous, very manipulative motherfucker. BUT I have always loved you. And I had 33 years to think about it. There was NO ONE, EVER, sweeter and lovelier than you…. I bought your ass, and I am going to Golden Thread you to me, so you do not FLIP ON ME, LIKE YOU FLIPPED ON MARY!!!”
“James, please….” William grabs a napkin and wipes Jim’s mouth, to no avail.
Kellspell strains himself against the belts, and releases a deafening scream, that you’d think would not be possible for a man with a voice as low as his.
“William…. You fucking asshole.” Kellspell breathes deep between the seizures, preparing for the next imminent one. “Ten years with Mary… You fucked her over so much, she was scarred for life…”
“Why are you talking about her, it is over.”
“No, it is not, you idiot. She posted an outstanding karmic debt against you, equaling to over “$200 million dollars” in damages. I’m going to pay your debt if it kills me. I will buy you out so I could own you free and clear…”
“I owe her nothing, James!” Conroy’s eyes flash in anger as Kellspell thrashes in agony, screaming.
I’m standing right here with a bottle of milky liquid meant to stop his suffering. But if I just give it to him, the action of the medicine in his body will be negated by the painkiller. That is why I’m only to give it to James when he feels that he can’t take it any more. ONLY when he feels like that.
“Take off ego-glasses… William, and look at the world… with the eyes of a repentant man…. Oh fuck!!!” Kellspell jerks his left leg, feeling the seizure coming. Then, as the muscle spasms reach out and engulf his body and arms, he is desperate to break out of his restraints, and out of his skin, if possible.
Lady Anne stands by her bridgeplate with her eyes closed. She is intensely psychic, and she can feel all of his pain.
Conroy holds Jim’s strapped hand, with his face down, his hair covering it partially, so I can’t see very much of an expression.
But on the bridgeplate his thinking process is not even in this room. He is away, in his memories, remembering Mary’s angry face every time she’d confront him about his various issues. He can’t let go of his old grudges, the misunderstanding, the way he thinks he was mistreated.
This one is nowhere near repentance stage yet.
THE DIARIES OF MARY CONROY
“Which storm is more frightening - the hail or the lightning?
In my opinion, the storm in your mind is the worst kind.”
Do you remember I wrote this to you, William? Do you understand that it’s the storms in your mind, caused by the ego-programming that were the worst kind both for me and Mary? Do you realise that I really liked Mary, and I mourned what you did to her?”
“What did I do to her? You don’t even know her!” Conroy shakes his head stubbornly. “She had a personality disorder, and that made her want to control my every move.”
“She just did not want you to get shit-faced at 9 in the morning! You know why? Because you’d have slurred speech every time your friend Dr. Robin would call you. I don’t know anything about “personality disorder”, but, unfortunately for you, your wife, as well as Dr. Robin, were NOT dummies, like ME, and they KNEW you had a drug/drinking problem. Maybe THAT IS WHY he was tenured and you weren’t! All Mary was trying to do was pull you away from the precipice.”
“You don’t know that, James! You CAN’T know that!”
“It so happens that you do not know what I know, William. I happen to have had access to her personal diaries.”
Conroy opens his mouth, like fish out of water.
And, without letting us all drown in a dramatic pause, James pulls up his bridgeplate, and starts reading in the most of ruthless ways.
“This is what she wrote a year before you left her: “My husband was integrally involved in psychiatric resident and fellowship training programs until such time when he was no longer able to conform to the unified standards of behaviour.” What is that supposed to mean, you think? I think, she suspected something!!!”
“Where did you get this?!” Conroy’s face turns white.
But, this is Jim Kellspell’s show, after all. No matter how much you take his rights away, he will rule this place. ONLY HE could gain access to someone’s private writings, and then spit in the face of all decency, by airing it out like that.
“I do believe that my husband is suffering the onset of a neurocognitive disorder.” Jim continues to read from the pages that are available ONLY TO HIM.
Normally, EVERYTHING on his bridgeplate will reflect on mine, but not this. Not the diaries of Mary Conroy.
‘WHAT?!” Conroy breathes heavily and shakes his head. “What kind of “neurocognitive disorder”?!”
“You’re a motherfucking doctor, you tell me!” Kellspell yells back, and his hoarse voice thunders in my head more than the loudest of bells.
“How did you… How did you gain access to my wife’s PERSONAL DIARIES?”
“No, William. The question is not “where”, or “how”, but “why”. It was because I have reached the end of the rope with you, and being, basically, a high school dropout, I decided to consult a professional. This is when I entered your house via Level 2, and went through your wife’s possessions in search of clues as to what SHE was thinking about YOU!! Not YOUR possessions, mind you, but HERS. Mainly because between the deranged (you), the witless (me) and the painfully involved (your wife), the Painfully Involved was the most balanced and the most cool-headed. Let alone, most educated. Mary believed that your substance abuse was a “co-morbid” state, or condition, exacerbated by your schizophrenia, or whatever “neurocognitive disorder” is supposed to mean!”
“There is one problem, James. I’d like to wear a moustache. And you never liked me with the moustache. May I wear it now?”
“This one is wearing women’s underwear.” Jim points at ME. “Samuel Of Salem showed up in a wedding dress. NOTHING fazes me anymore, William.”
After a stunned pause in which Lady Anne stares at me in shock, Jim continues.
“You can wear your moustache all you want. After four weeks of yelling at each other over shit that happened, I think we cleared our channels enough for successful Amalgamation. Between the Marxist, the Comodo dragon and Kyle Merritt your moustache was the least of my concerns.”
7:00 am James is talking to Kumlatov via his GrayRock LHS bridgeplate, Krotkie sits by the sliding door, waiting to be let outside, Henry is out, in his bedroom. He is taking the presence of William in Jim’s bed very hard, so they’re keeping him sedated.
Conroy is smoking outside, looking up to Isaak Milgram’s apartment windows. Not a good idea and an easy way to get hit by an empty bottle of “Red Label”.
I’m pulling archive materials from Jim’s Arkchil Channel, but my mind is filled with what happened yesterday.
“How could you out me like that?” I say, almost under my breath. James is not in a good mood today after he found out how much he has to pay for Conroy.
“Nobody cares, Wallace. You’re not going to get fired for being transgendered.” Kellspell responds to me between answering Kumlatov’s messages.
A rather dark cloud with whitish edges appears in the bottom left corner of Jim’s triangular bridgeplate.
“Oh, no, Commander, please do not tell me this. That’s bullshit, and you know it. The ONLY REASON you’re dropping the members to Pelargonium family is because they’re the closest to Leot, and you need to spite him.”
His speech is converted into colors by the bridgeplate, and gets delivered to Kumlatov, who is possibly on the outer orbit of Strobulus, 7 light years away from here.
Fascinated, I stare at my beloved James. He knows so much. His signal brought the aliens here, so we call could be saved. Yet, he is only human.
The sliding door opens, and William Conroy comes back.
‘Should I let Krotkie out?” He asks James.
“Yes.” James nods. “My injection is by 9, and you are to report to Mr. Jaguar’s office by 10.”
“Why?” Conroy
“You do not ask your officer that. A la guerre comme a la guerre, bitch!” Kellspell responds in French, which makes Conroy wince and frown.
“Wallace, Lady Anne is still not here and we can’t get permission to go to eat. So, go to Inner Dinner and bring my men some food. William will have a burger…”
“It’s breakfast time, James…” I begin.
“Breakfast food” is a capitalistic fetish. FOOD IS FOOD, Wallace. Bring Krotkie three meat parries with cheese on them, and no buns.”
“What about you?”
“I boiled some potatoes a few days ago, and there is plenty of canned fish of every kind. I ate all that earlier.”
James experiences no need for sophisticated food. He grew up on buckwheat and potatoes. Literally.
When I come back, James is still on the horn with Kumlatov, and Conroy is on his knees in front of James, on the floor, naked.
“Ahem… Gentlemen…” I say, and immediately regret it, as Jim gives me an evil eye. But still, I continue. “Lady Anne, Lady Tigress or Matushka can come down at any moment…”
“All these ladies are well over 18, Wallace. This man’s show is costing me $200 million, and that’s just Mary’s claim, not considering the other two victims…. and the least I can do is enjoy seeing what he’s got.”
“They were victims of their own stupidity…” I hear Conroy’s muffled voice, as his head is bowed low to the floor.
The next thing I hear is a sound of a whip flying through the air and Conroy winces and twists. A red mark appears on his back.
“You are not allowed to talk.” James reminds him.
Kellspell’s liquid mind is extraordinary on Level 1, but on Level 2 he can create any illusion, anytime. Including a very painful one, when he needs to drive the point home for his harem.
“So, all in all, Commander, a war crime is a war crime. I do not approve of your actions of taking out the Greheidis by putting them into a lethargic dream so you could torment their minds.”
“Did you bring the food?” James inquires.
“Yes, James.” I nod, showing my complete compliance. He is not to be messed with right now.
Jim is in a fighting mood today.
“I’m going to fix this Barnum Circus once and for all!” He frowns.
Krotkie is a lot smarter than he is given credit for. The hungry wolf sits by Jim’s bed, motionless. Have no doubt, he smelled the meat a long way away, but he will not move until Jim lets him.
“Get up!” Kellspell orders Conroy.
I want to turn away, and I can’t. William Conroy is very endowed. And very well built, even at 71. Solid muscle, no sagging skin. Way to go, man.
See, James Kellspell has not turned down a man in his life. Black, white, semitic - all the guy needs to do is smile at James. But it has to be a MALE.
“I yell at him, I do. But I’m so happy he was brought back…” James smiles to himself. “Ten minutes to my injection, Wallace. The last of the day.”
JUST ONE MOMENT OF TRUTH
“You think Mr. Conroy owes Mary Conroy a lot of money? Wait till you find out how much was in the research. And that is why, you need to go through me, before you own Conroy. Or, Mr. Kellspell, I own you both. AND ALL the results of the research, as per the Arkchil Record.” With that, Mr. Lauren left our bedroom.
“William! Fuck!” Jim’s angry, hoarse voice rolls like the wind in the aspens. “You took Dr. Lauren’s diagrams, put your name on them, and passed them to me as yours? So, “The Hysteresis of Soul” and “The Conroy Diagram” were NOT your inventions? Have you EVER told ANYONE a word of truth?!”
BRIDGEPLATE 1: “There Is No Way Out Of Truth”
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THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
CHAPTER 135 (this file - from 119)
“Why? Why do I remember “Konstantin Mountblanc”?”
Regent Kellspell, digging through his Arkchil Records in search of something very important.
The underlying statement for Jim’s new bridgeplate:
“Accept the ruler given to you by God -
The ruler by blood”
Wallace Smith: And what am I supposed to do with this bit?
That’s why only those who will agree with THIS statement, are going with us to MEOL.
“I am here to confess that I have been doubting your guidance, My Lady.”
I sigh as I sit in front of my Lady Tigress at Matushka’s tea table.
“So I’m told.” Lady Tigress nods and whispers to Lady Anne to bring us some tea.
“I have asked to see you, because I need to get this off my chest.” I never thought I’d be confronting her like that. “Ever since you have acquired the Emerald Filament Project and put your general… I mean, your manager, our most respected Mr. Jaguar, in charge of everything, especially Regent James Kellspell, I am being kept in the dark about things that are going on.”
Lady Anne with dark circles around her eyes brings us two steaming cups in red and blue stripes. I taste the tea and it is marvellous. Bergamot, and mint, and something else.
Lady Anne has been taking care of hurting “soldiers” in this “infirmary” for over a year now. She was making sure Kyle Merritt was well cared for as he left his body in his room in Henry’s Chambers so he could be with his mother in the Grey Building.
Now she is taking care of Uncle Albert, as per Lady Ti’s orders. She has accepted the martyrdom, and she is doing well in this role. Which cannot be said about me.
“Thank you for letting me know how you feel, Mr. Smith.” Lady Ti says and her glance falls on Matushka’s roses in the backyard.
I drink and wonder if Lady Anne will bring any biscuits, and if she does, should I eat them, or should I finally have courage to face the fact that I need to lose weight.
“Can you give me any explanation as to why I’m no longer allowed to monitor ALL of Jim’s correspondence?”
“I believe Mr. Jaguar has already told you the reasons, Mr. Smith.” Lady Ti smiles at me, her face outwardly calm, almost serene. She ran a highly profitable business her whole life, having inherited it from her grandfather, Mister C. A lifetime of controlling all these men, some dishonest, some lazy, and some just simply questioning the fact that a woman was at the helm of a business.
She dealt with all of them, and she made them all bend their knee even as they swore that they’d rather die than submit to a woman.
I finish my cup, and Lady Anne does not come to refill it.
“I know how you feel, Wallace.”
Lady Ti calls me by my first name, shortening the distance between us.
“Do you?” I barely open my lips. I know she will not answer any of my questions, I know I’m done, and I know I was put back in my place yet again.
“Just follow our orders. No matter what. You’re sick, dying, James Kellspell’s dick is stuck up your ass - I don’t care, but you follow orders. Mr. Jaguar is now your commanding officer. He took one task away from you, but be rest assured he will give you more. Serve the Empire, Mr. Smith, and you will never regret it. You will not be forgotten, or unappreciated with us.”
You should see her face. She is talking to me like I’m a kid at the kindergarten, and she is the teacher.
Duly slapped and humiliated.
But I guess I had it coming.
The sun is rising.
And I linger in its morning sun rays.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Smith?” Lady Ti is very polite, but I darn well know that I have exhausted all my pleas.
“That would be it, my Lady. Thank you.”
“U-huh… And why did you ask to see her? Not because you’re a pain-junkie, a sucker for punishment, specialising in public humiliation?”
Somehow I do not expect James to have any different answer, when I cry in his shoulder over what happened this morning with Lady Ti. Merciful James, James the Protector of the Poor and Disenfranchised!
James did not have anything nice to say to me.
“Do I not deserve an explanation, as to why an Arkchil Operator’s ETERNAL right was taken away from me?” I work the bridgeplate as I talk - if Lady Tigress is right only about one thing - we will be worked to death under new management.
I was given a long list of scenes I must pull out of Jim’s Arkchil Channel Archive, and I must do it by 9 pm tonight. I have three hours left.
Only the one who worked ANY archives knows how hard it is to pull ANYTHING out of the endless River Styx of old newspaper clippings, photographs, VHS tapes with all kids of recordings on it - all that, but online, basically.
Your attention is drawn to things unrelated, and next thing you know it’s been an hour of mindless wanderings around the scenes you do not need right now. But you can’t break away from them. Jim’s life has this effect on you.
Especially on a bridgeplate, where you can see not just the images from his past, but also see in colour what he was thinking and feeling at the time of the events.
I get a lot of questions from the Earth audience about the technologies we here are using.
I also get stuff from our ANDROMEDAN audience, too. But what I get from the Andromedan audience of our reality show is so very different from the Earthlings.
Earthlings want to KNOW.
Andromedans want to CONTROL. Theirs are mostly imperative comments as to what they like and do not like, what they want to see and what they want removed from the show.
I feel like an errant servant answering those. As if I always apologise for something. Trying to please them. It’s like - come on, people. Get off the high horse.
Let me remind you - this is where we’re going. And when we come there - every Andromedan dog will feel obliged to tell us what to do.
Alright, that was complaining on the side. I signed the Covenant. I will go where Jim will be sent, and Jim seems to be totally cool with the Andromedans.
But, he lived there.
Let me spend a minute answering the questions of the Earthlings to make me feel good.
What is a “bridgeplate”?
You can say that “bridgeplate” is a computer only in a sense that a pen resembles a stick.
The computers you’re used to are a stick in comparison with the Andromedan “pen”.
We’re here using a stick to write in the sand, and we’re darn proud of ourselves.
THEY are using a PEN. To write on PAPER.
That’s the difference. We will elaborate on it later. When I don’t feel so rotten.
Now - I have to get a few scenes that Lady Ti wanted to see. Scenes from Jim’s past. I have ten scenes to find, and only two hours left. Better not squander it on shooting up NES-sp.
But stuff bugs me.
I’m suffering under “new management”, Jim! Jaguar took away just about all my rights to your channel! Lady Ti treats me like an idiot, and you have said absolutely nothing! The last two weeks were absolute hell for me, and every day I waited that you, my mate, would defend me. You never did.”
There, I said it. It’s been hurting, and it’s been bugging.
And it’s not like I do not have work to do right now. I have tons. With a deadline, too. Like I just explained. But when I’m working those Archive materials, a thought assaults me that James is talking to Jaguar creating exiting new content, while I’m being distracted with the old stuff.
The FRESH stuff is happening, and I have NO ACCESS to it.
James and Jaguar are onto something, and I can’t know. As if I was going to tell anyone. Was I ever unfaithful? Have I ever broken the vows of silence every Arkchil Operator takes?
“Wallace, those were Lady Ti’s orders. Jaguar carried out her orders. How could I dispute that? I can’t lift my eyes in his presence, and you want me to discuss HER orders with him?”
OK, OK, i’m beaten down. I got what I deserved for opening my mouth.
James is on his bed, with Hafnian sleeping at his feet.
Kellspell has one cat eye on his bridgeplate, and the other - on the darkening windows to see if Henry is coming from his jog with the Arkabins.
“I know, I’m wrong. But it’s not fair, James. I only had three months of using your Channel, of being able to watch you have sex with Henry, being a fly on the wall during your conversations with Leonard Rubinstein, your lessons with Uri Kumlatov, your shrink sessions with Prince Moretr, Melekh’s letters to you… James, I watched you give a blow job to LIVEN!”
Kellspell smirks.
“That was epic. You think Uri is in pain? Liven is in even more pain. Giving him a blow job was like trying to swallow a red-hot sword. Honestly, just being by his side hurt my entire body. But I had to do it. Uri ordered us to have sex. It’s the Sheiredi way. You do what your teacher tells you to do.”
“Yeah… I mean…” Here comes my ability to skip the info I don’t care about. And then I complain that other people never listen to me. “Month Alanira Kils Svangibir, and Jaguar comes, and takes it all away from me.”
“Oh, come on, now you sound like Sheba! More and more, Wallace. Is there a pill you all Arkchil Operators must take? I feel like this show is a slowly unfurling Periodic Table of Elements. Stuff repeats. With minor changes, but repeats.”
Maybe, I don’t care about Sheba right now. And I don’t get the reference about the Periodic Table of Elements.
Let’s dismiss all that and carry on with my point.
“Jim, I’m being serous. My feelings were very hurt.” I lower my head and wonder if I should cry. Will that soften him up?
But the best bet would be to look outside and see if Henry is coming. For as soon as Hafnian gets a whiff of him, it will be pandemonium. James will stop working (let alone listening to me)) and start fluffing up pillows, and Wolf will be allowed to escape into the night to greet and welcome their Beloved Henry, and rub his nose on Henry’s hands.
“I only spent three months with Kellspell before Hammersmith Diva showed up with a retinue.” Jim shakes his head at me. “Wallace, whose words are these? So quoted, so popular now. Come on!”
Ok, let me tell you what he quoted. Sheba wrote many books about her experience on Strobulus.
Five were made into movies by Moretr Industries 5 Minutes To Revelation:
“Sky Over Morrill” (Three months with James BEFORE Henry arrived)
“The Making Of The Prophet” (Christmas of Dorilin Alaetar {censored})
“Hills of Metal” (“I Really Needed Him To Love Me”)
Jim’s famous answer to this book: “I would have loved you! But your doors were locked, your lips were sealed and your ass belonged to someone else.”
“Trials of James Kellspell II”
And, a less known one:
“Intense Loyalty”
“I only spent 3 months with Kellspell before the Hammersmith Diva showed up” was from “The Making Of The Prophet”.
It was some powerful read, and Sheba surely has her style. Her style had also deepened as the time progressed, as she was learning more and more about James and his sacrifice for the poor, and as she became submerged in the bloody and unforgiving HenryJames Amalgamated drama.
“I’m in too much pain over losing everything, James. I don’t know how can I ever get over this…” I bring my face to his shoulder and whisper into his clean shaven cheek (Lady Tigress now makes sure James does not look like a wild savage).
“I don’t care, Wallace. You signed the Covenant with me. You are my Fourth Omega. I will compel you to do what I need you to do.”
“I may have started to sound like Sheba, but you have started to sound like Jaguar and Lady Ti.”
“Yes, because they are the only ones who make sense!” Jim glances at the window, and I feel Sheba’s frustration all over, even as she is not here. James is so focused on Henry, that WE ALL will ALWAYS be Number #2.
I’m out of words and I do not know how to face tomorrow. I sit by him, and I hold his hand, and I interfere in his work like a lonesome dog.
“Wallace, I love you.” James scratches me behind my left ear. “Please do not be so dramatic. It’s Henry’s job. God is the witness how much I love him! He is everything to me! He is my food, water and air!
He started with me, and he switched to HENRY.
No wonder Sheba would lose it.
“Oh, whatever, Wallace. I know I’ve done wrong by you and Sheba.”
James is psychic. We know that. But what is the punchline?
“The punchline, my forlorn friend, is this: You have not lost ANYTHING. Everything you listed and long for - you cans till have it. The Kumlatov’s don’t care, Henry does not care, even Lady Tigress will let you watch her whipping sessions with me. I have NEVER been with a female Dominatrix. Fuck, Wallace, I’m gay, and I get rock-hard with her. You should try it. Anyway, you can see all that. ALL THAT, but Jaguar’s instructions for me. And Jaguar’s sessions with me. That’s it. He just blocked that. Possibly, temporarily. Take it into prospective. Get a BIGGER picture. And don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Way to speak in cliches, jeez.
“It is very hurtful, James.” I whine quietly, and remind myself of a dog that begs for more treats.
“It’s the Army, Wallace!” Jim’s face is now lit up. Of all things, even more than wanting to be a whore, a writer, or a doctor, he wanted to be a soldier, and he knew that a drug addict with a criminal record had no chance to become one.
That was a long-time, and a very secret fantasy of his. Sheba had discovered it in his Archives, but never mentioned anywhere. Mainly because she was appalled at Jim’s long, creepy rap sheet of stalking his love interests, and hurting them for turning him down. She just could not see Kellspell as a soldier. Bless her heart, she thought better of the Army.
Jim’s SECOND life-long dream was to be able to hold a job.
THAT IS WHY his eyes are bright. He found a REAL (retired), but a distinguished officer, willing to take Jim on for military training.
Or rather, that officer found him.
And, against all odds, a job was offered to James. He was to become Jaguar’s soldier. Then, a brochure “310 Rules” was given to James. Those were Jaguar’s rules. A path for Jim to atone himself, to become a soldier, and to learn HOW to hold a job.
Kellspell’s eyes are bright, because he is happy.
He has a job, and NOW he no longer needs to beg Tia Demetra for a job with Lady Lion. That was humiliating. I watched that conversation. That got James nowhere. Lady Lion was not going to give a job to a sex offender.
Now, Jim has someone who WILL give a job to a sex offender.
Happiness, however, is NOT a cookie-cutter notion.
Some people would rather die than go to the Army. And if they were drafted - they’d fake illness to escape what they perceive as hell on Earth.
Not so much with James Kellspell. He embraces the challenge that the Army represents. Somehow, he reminds me of Forrest Gump. Laughing quietly. An “idiot-savant”, this is what Lady Tigress called James today. Or, the American way, Forrest Gump :).
“Army and I were like peas and carrots.” Right? Did I quote it correctly? That is about James and Jaguar.
Right before I was cut off from Jim’s Citadel21 Channel (Jaguar’s channel), I witnessed stuff Jaguar did to James that kept me up all that night.
Obviously, I never mentioned it here. Now I do not know if I should, because, holy crap, and Magnetar eat me alive, like Uri Kumlatov would say, Jaguar put a gag order on EVERYTHING connected with those sessions.
;A gag order on an Arkchil Operator? It’s like asking the journalists not to tell anyone.
While I’m the one who needs to be in the know, so that I have right answers to stuff like this:
“I’m one of “those people” that never found their place in the society, Wallace!”
James says that on the rising moon, when he is down the most.
And if I don’t know EVERYTHING about James, how can I be his effective consolation?
From Jim’s lecture “To The Andromedans”
“We do not have a lifetime that the machine thinks is taken away by God.
We are here until we do what Father told us to do.
Then He takes us and the machine cannot know when and why.
But we are His Children, and He knows the most loving way to get us through everything, including the Awakening.
All the ego-machine ever instructs you to do is judgment, fear, anger, regret and panic.
I mean, come on, how long will it take you to understand whose side you should be on?”
“Were you a good student, Mr. Kellspell?” Jaguar sits by the table in his makeshift study - all inside of that very Classroom, separated by colorful fabric partitions (Jim’s idea to break down the temporary living quarters of his new adoptive “parents” AND employers).
“No, sir.” James is standing in front of Jaguar’s writing table, his face is as blissful as can be.
See, I would have felt uncomfortable STANDING in front of this seated man with a very straight back, dressed in black suit, looking down at his papers (not on the computer, he is NOT on the computer), asking you questions in this dry, demanding tone.
But James is right at home. He blossoms right by the hot, noxious underwater tube, like an extremophile.
“Why not?”
Jaguar asks him that, like you’d ask “why did you hit that child?”, with all the anger you could summon. You were GIVEN AN OPPORTUNITY OF AN EDUCATION, and you were not a good student? What the heck was your problem? Stand straight and answer your officer!
Ohhh.. God help me.
“I was in a lot of emotional pain which was dismissed by both my parents and my teachers, and I was unable to study because of that.” James barely changes in his face saying that. It used to be his most visited, most painful subject, only five years ago.
He swore he’d never forgive those who dismissed his claims being mentally ill, of needing help.
Now he sees them (his parents and the school) as unknowing movies who had no idea what they were looking at. Moreover, “they”, just like him, were deprived of such help and understanding, when they were HIS AGE, and, therefore, had no idea he was ‘in pain”, and “they were supposed to help”.
He gets it now.
Maybe that is why he is ready for a 12 mile run, when previously h was unable to make three steps.
Six years with Melekh Shel Zahav, and his protege, Prince Moretr, had a profound healing effect on Jim’s personality.
“Are you in pain now?” Jaguar asks without lifting his deep, heavy glance from the papers.
“Yes, sir, about just as much, but my pain was recognised, my need for medical care was recognised, and I’m on a manageable amount of medication to get me through the day on hour-to-hour basis.”
“What medication are you on right now?”
“I hexagon of 14% or 40% a day, plus blue ksill and cigarettes as needed.”
“It is not very much.”
“And very affordable, sir. I pride myself in being a very cheap soldier. Kenny will do it for a dollar, sir. All I’m asking is 6 at 14% or 40% a day and three cans of tuna. This reformed cat will serve you faithfully.”
It would be hilarious, if it was not so serious.
These are the preparations for Oath of Allegiance Ceremony. With that Ceremony Jakes Kellspell as we know him will cease to exist, and will become a part of a BODY.
It’s like a one-cell organism will make a decision to abandon the “freedom” the way it was seen by it, and join a bigger organism, in order to have more opportunities.
Or, a simple example, for God’s sake. it’s like joining the Army.
“And as for being a poor student, sir, I have made up for that ever since. I have learned two languages on my own, English and Hafnian, and the Kumlatov Branch of the Emerald Filament Project wants me to be a chemist. I will also be playing. Many roles in Prince Moretr’s Court, one of them being a human rights expert. Just to beef up my resume, and make sure you do not see me as a juvenile delinquent I once was because I was in love with an unhinged Marxist. Those were, um, turbulent young years. Maybe that’s why I lost my friend Kyle. Because I was unhinged. I regret that…”
Jaguar says nothing, but his disapproving glance from under the long, grey brows makes Jim shut up.
“I just need enough money to support my three sons - Henry, H.M. and Krotkie. They are totally dependent on me, and I could never hold a job… My boys are extremely valuable to me, and…” Kellspell breaks down under Jaguar’s stern, unforgiving glance.
“And if you find it in your heart to be able to give me a job, and disregard the sexual assault charges… This could benefit my boys, and I will raise them faithful to the Old Dominion… I swear to God, sir, please… Fuck, I was such a fuck-up, for so long. It’s not just drugs. I stalked people, I assaulted people. Dr. Michael would like to see me hanged. Again. You already saw me hanged once, that did not help, so, let’s not be repetitive. Although I can hell you, that when you’re drunk, getting hung is not all that bad. You really can’t feel it, and then you’re out…”
Another stare from Jaguar, now steely-cold, with plenty of red-hot anger mixed in.
“Please be silent, Mr. Brooks, while I’m filling out your papers!”
That interview, or, rather, interrogation, lasted for ten hours. During those ten hours I have witnessed James answering questions, not answering questions, and being mistreated for that. I’m not allowed to say how.
And I must comply and conceal what I saw, because only under these conditions was I allowed to be present during these interrogations.
Distressed and pressed for time as I am, I must say that the entire situation is tremendously unlawful. You can’t prevent the only human witness, an Arkchil Operator, from being with his charge AT ALL TIMES. That is why an Arkchil Operator is there - it is a safety measure, a security detail, and to make sure the person of interest’s rights were not violated.
And an Arkchil Operator is given to those the Intergalactic Community finds to be important for only and ever One Purpose - to obtain the ADVANCING Proximity back to the Original Source. In other words, to Awaken to the Face Of God.
“Mr. Smith, your silence on the channel is most appreciated. This is the last time I’m catching you expressing your opinion on Regent Kellspell’s Private Channel.”
Signature: Citadel21. It’s Jaguar’s code.
“Thank you, sir. That will not happen again.”
And why exactly did I say that?!!
What was wrong with what I was doing? I was EDITORIALISING! This is what Arkchil Operators are encouraged to do - show their charge from THEIR perspective, and not detached.
Jaguar controls ALL OF MY GUTS now. He can see me, he can hear my thoughts… Jesus, and now I’m not allowed to editorialise?
While James is being interrogated by the scariest man I have ever seen… And I worshipped him my whole life.
Now that I see him up close, I’m terrified. This man has an agenda, it is a very rigid one, and this man will stop at nothing to follow through with his agenda, even if it violates a dozen laws. And not just Andromedan, I’d imagine. For I can no longer SEE everything that is happening with James in Jaguar’s study! So, anything could be happening there!
And now I’m being silenced on MY OWN channel, that also happens to be Jim’s channel, for we have united a while ago. More precisely, Jim had united with Sheba, and I took over Richard, who took over Sheba.
Ok, ok… what do I do? Secret communication. This bridgeplate was put together by James. James is an expert on communication. AR-SNAP, his most notable invention, was just that - instant communication between the two points. The quantum entanglement. The two hearts that refused to part, no matter what.
Communication is Jim’s job. But secret communication is Jim’s forte. This is how he got a hold of that cat on MEOL. That was a bloody mess.
Communication is Advancing Proximity. Advancing Proximity (the Return To The Original Source) is Blue. Move towards Blue. BLUE…. Away from red. Red is Escaping Proximity. Not correct. Where do you go?
There is only one answer for you -
Towards blue, you fly towards BLUE.
Hold on… I have remembered how to create a sub-channel! Take a breath… Fill the bridgeplate triangle with blue color… Think BLUE… Got it. Now, say “Black Hexagon of St. Merelion”. The bridgeplate got that from your mind.
>>> Here we go, bitches. I have a sub channel via sweet Doc Merelion’s grace. OK, back to what I was saying. I honestly can’t believe I have to hide something that is my job.
This new management is frustrating. So frustrating. And here I thought listening to Jim’s angry rants over “cartoon radio” was frustrating. May I never betray my oaths of the Arkchil Operator. My oaths to James, that I will be there to love and protect him. For the position of a Personal Arkchil Operator transcends all restrictions in the Intergalactic Court. This is where I may be called to testify, should something happens to James.
Something I could not see, because I was not allowed the access. That is illegal. Not allowing access to an Arkchil Operator is illegal. Plenty of stuff had happened on this filming set, but just not this. Never have before we faced intimidation on such a large scale, from such high level.
And where do I go with this? Prince Moretr, of course. How do I go to his office without Jaguar knowing that I’m planning to rat him out?
God Allmighty, what am I getting into, and how? I have always admired Jaguar for all the business and charity he and Lady Ti had done. But, I never knew him personally. And, as everyone else, I believed that Henry would be our most “hard-to-swallow” character.
That is out of the window. Jaguar is here to swallow you. If you do not follow his orders, or get in the way. I’ll be darned.
I must tell somebody. Sheba is my first choice. She always stood up for Jim’s rights. But, again, how do I get a hold of Sheba without Jaguar knowing?
Running in circles… Running in circles…
I can’t use this channel to communicate with any human. No one knows how to access it. I can only express my thoughts here. Carried and received by St. Merelion’s Broadcasting and Archives. Our best bet and the safest haven in the dangerous waters of Andromedan cross-communication fields (like, our internet).
“Mr. Smith.” Appears at the top angle of my pyramid. “Thank you for your strict silence, but I also need you to respond.”
Oh, darn. How long has this line been hanging here? I got distracted.
“Here, Mr. Jaguar.” Or, whatever they say in the military! Why am I in the middle of this? Why am I reporting to Jaguar, when my only point of contact above James is (used to be?) Prince Moretr? And he never told me what to do. Arkchil Operator enjoys a lot of freedoms.
Now, when WERE they going to tell me that now I report to Jaguar? Apparently, AFTER the Ceremony of Allegiance.
“Please come into my office. You were invited to my third interview with Mr. Brooks (Kellspell).”
Oh, really? What do I do now?!
“Isn’t that what you wanted, Mr. Smith?”
Yes. I’m just shocked that I was invited again.
;“Yes, sir.”
“Then don’t make everyone wait for you.”
“How long have you known Mrs. Sheba Reddington (formerly Samuel of Salem) before you offered her a job, Mr. Brooks?”
“I never knew her before. Sheba was assigned to me by the producers, Prince Moretr, I assume, in the fall of /dorilin alaetar {censored}. Those were very hard times for me, because my teacher, Wolf Hafnian, was bedridden for 8 months prior to those events, and I was losing my mind. We were not on Strobulus, then.”
“Did you know that Samuel of Salem was transgendered?”
“No, I did not. Well, see, here is the thing - now that the brouhaha took place, everyone says - we do not believe that you did not know that Samuel of Salem was a woman, blah blah, but you’all are forgetting one thing - when Sheba, or Samuel, arrived, he asked me NOT TO LOOK into his mind palace. And I did not! THAT IS WHY, bitches, I did not see the obvious. Because I was asked not to see it. Samuel was very uneasy, he was in a lot of pain, he needed a job, a shelter, and a warm bed. He did not need my scanning, spying eyes. It was a curtesy. Out of curtesy I did not look, and now everyone calls me a dumb idiot. Now… about the bed… The only way I could give him the bed was if I signed a Covenant with him. I did, and I do not regret it, even despite all the unpleasant rumours that “Sheba had betrayed Regent Kellspell”. That’s bullshit. I suggest you flush that down. It’s a lie and these people feed off the spun out media.”
“Very well. Please abstain from using expletives in the future, Mr. Brooks.” Jaguar’s hawkish look is on his Bridgeplate, and he is using the SeaStone Grey/Blue. Which is an almost exact copy of Jim’s. It has to have the same underlying statement. “LHS”, for sure. (“Loyalty”< “Honor”< “Service”).
“Yes, sir.” Jim nods, and by his confused face I see that he does not remember when and which expletive he used. It burdens him to watch his language (I mean, I was his teacher of proper English for 3 months, with very little luck), but he will do it for Jaguar.
“What DID you know, Mr. Brooks?”
“Oh, well, I really did not have time to look, honestly. Once Sheba was on board, and she was briefed (poorly, as she recalls) into her new responsibilities, she started working right away. “Sky Over Morrill” was the book written based on her first communication efforts with the Arkchil system. And I was busy first with my teacher Krotkie Wolf. Then Krotkie was taken away in unconscious condition, and I honestly thought that he had died of exposure (to me). And then and then and then… Then Henry arrived, and that was it.” Jim’s face lights up. “I never even helped Sheba set her bridgeplate, and she never forgot that neglect. How can I ever repay her for her patience?”
“But did you notice anything about Samuel of Salem that might have led you to believe that he was transgendered?”
“Yeah, well, Samuel was very unsure of himself. Like, totally shy. I remember that. Like Kyle. He reminded me of Kyle Merritt, but Kyle is not a trans… But just for the record. I’ll tell you what I remember. He was shy about his chest. It’s like - he would not take off his shirt. He’d wear a t-shirt even during sex. And sex was, seriously, sandpaper across glass. He was very unwilling. Now I know that his heart was filled with David Reddington. And David Reddington is. Portly man, so it would take a huge heart… hehehe…”
“Mr. Brooks, please stay focused.”
“Wel, ok, so, sex with Samuel was like dragging a resisting donkey up the hill, while both of us are laden with huge bags of sand, and it’s very hot and pitch-dark, while…”
“I get your meaning, Mr. Brooks. Does that, in your mind, indicate that Samuel of Salem was a woman inside of a man’s body?”
“No. That does not. That kind of sex only means that they’re not free. Why are they not free? Strict upbringing, hang ups about their body, and yes, they could also be a trans. But you’d need to dig deeper. Well, he asked me not to look. So, he remained an enigma to me until he appeared behind me in a wedding dress. And I said - Samuel, we’re in the middle of a completely different scene, and I never took you for a cross-dresser type…”
“Stop right here, Mr. Brooks. When did that happen?”
“Oh, geez… this past winter \kriagir dorilin {censored}. And it was about a month before the brouhaha took place - all at the same time. Rockford shows up, Smith shows up, Henry bribes Reddington, Reddington falls, Mr. August shows up and takes out Henry. I get suspended from school by Kumlatov for aiding Henry in sale of “Stairway To Heaven” to the richest of the rich, my contact on MEOL gets raided by Leot’s Forces, and in the midst of all that Sheba collapses on the set. She came out to me, basically, right before all that. But even before our relationship cooled to the point that we were just roommates. There was no malice between us. I guess Sheba was just totally disgusted by me as a human being, although an Arkchil Operator is not supposed to have such attitude to the footage they see. It’s like your defense attorney walking out on you. But she said that it was only because of what I did to Mr. August, AFTER I vowed to Dr. Michael not to break into people’s houses anymore. But the world only found out that I broke into Mr. August’s house, because I WAS DEFENDING HENRY. Fuck, see how my life is? I feel like I’m inside of a washing machine, where everything is strung out on suffering, twisted in grief and wet with tears. And they don’t want me to do drugs?”
Jaguar give James a deep, disapproving look. Yeah, I caught it, too.
“What did I… Hold on… Oh…” Jim backtracks quickly. “It will be very hard for me to ditch expletives right away, sir.”
“I will make it even harder for you if you don’t. You had five months, Mr. Brooks. Not a day more. That will be all. Thank you, Mr. Brooks. Please expect for me to call you tomorrow morning for another interview.”
‘I need to be dead, my Prince! I can’t handle this life anymore. H.M. is as rude and mean as always, not willing to accept the understanding of “pain”. He does not want to believe that he is in pain as much as everyone else. He does not want to do ANYTHING about his pain. He is in DENIAL.”
“What is going on, James?” Prince Moretr is as comforting as it gets, but it will take drugs to calm Jim down.
“He just pushes his pain on those by his side without knowing what he is doing. Isvakar died, basically, poisoned by H.M., unable to forgive him his tricks. Artir became a hopeless drunk because of H.M., as he pushed all his pain on her, by treating her inhumanely, Even H.M.’s OWN mother told me to run from him… But I could not. I signed the Covenant. Then he ravaged me for 20 years. It is still going on. I would have been fine, if Jaguar did not forbid me to smoke blue ksill. I have to handle H.M. on a regular basis, and that son of a bitch is heavy, I tell you. And I was only able to handle life with him on I hexagon + blue ksill. Now Jaguar says I can only smoke three times a day. But hat is not enough. Only between I hexagon and smoking “as needed” was I able to make it through the day, dragging the dead weight of H.M. on me. Screaming loudly, my Prince. It’s all that plus screaming loudly and crying secretly that helps make it to the end of the day with H.M.! Please help me with whatever You can! Consider that a prayer, consider that a MAYDAY, but I’m sinking under H.M.’s karmic weight. Yes, I’m being paid to carry it, and this is what Jaguar is saying, but I need courage and I need new day, because right now i’m drunk, unauthorized drunk, one extra unit over being allowed. I’m in SO MUCH PAIN… Fuck. No expletives. Seriously.”
“Recording everything, James. As you know, the help will come in 120 hours your time. I’m unable to hep you sooner than that, but I guarantee you, that by the time you talk to Merion, you will be fine.”
“I can’t believe tat you can help me solve EVERYTHING the ego said “was impossible to resolve” in only two days?”
“Yes, James. Stick to your underlying statements: “LHS - Loyalty, Honour Service.” You take care of that and I will help you with everything else. All of the things the ego says are “impossible to resolve” AND “WILL SINK YOU” - I can help you within three liquid hexagons. That is 36 times 3 on the waning moon. And the ego will be proven wrong. Stay put. Wait for my help. Get ready to laugh at the stupid ego that always comes up with the scariest possible scenarios - but nothing ever turns out to be like that. The ego needs to be proven wrong, and humiliated, once and for all. Shame on the ego for not letting Father help you!”
“Thank you! Ever since Matushka found blood in my urine, Jaguar and Lady Ti had subjected me to a battery of medical tests, and they found those sores in my mouth, that they believe are from the pipe, and the overuse of blue ksill, so I was not allowed to smoke it more often than 3 times a day. So “my” fucking “helpful” ego, that is IQ 14, and REALLY wants to be my friend, but, nevertheless, always tries to shake me out of balance (do you now what you’re doing? You want to be MY FRIEND and you rattle my cage? Fuck!)…. And the ego TELLS ME - you will never be able to have enough painkiller to get you through the day now that they won’t let you smoke blue ksill as much as you need, blah blah and you’re fucked!” And I’m like - hey. Why am I even LISTENING TO A DUMB MACHINE OF IQ 14? But it DID rattle me, and the next thing you know - H.M. is on my ass with vacuuming, and we all know how furious and rude he gets when he makes me clean - everything is done upon his angry bark, as if he forgets that I’m his partner of 21 years! He treats me worse than a dog for about 40 minutes of cleaning - and I have to take it, and there is NO ONE to document how poorly he treats me, as “his” ego commands him to hurt me. And he has no idea that he is following “his” ego’s orders…”
“I will help you with ALL THIS, hon. Look at the transverse wave that is appearing in front of you. See how smooth and beautiful it is?”
“Yes….” Jim’s voice is now quieter.
“Watch it envelop you with hexagons of Liquid Time. Sleep. Be sure in the knowledge that I control ALL of these hexagons. I can change ANYTHING. Your life is fully under my control. The ego-device can’t know it. It was never programmed to see or feel beyond your senses. So, we have a huge advantage. You will be sent new protocols on how to stop the stupid from contacting you under any circumstances. With Me, you will never be under the control of the stupid. The stupid will be fully under your control.”
8 am, and James was called to Jaguar’s office.
I was not. So, I remained in our bedroom, wondering if I should just quit being upset about it, accept the idea that we’re now “in the Army”, and stop questioning our “commanding officer”.
And why in quote marks? Lifetime after a lifetime (Jim tells me), Jaguar was a high-ranking officer in the Army, the Navy, the Air Force - you name it, he did it. Jim calls it “being stuck in a {certain} dream sequence”. Well, look who is talking - Jim himself is stuck in “DeVo’ing sequence”.
And i’m just stuck.
So, not a wedding general, our Jaguar is.
Fine, then. I will follow his orders. What would Sheba say? Would she submit to a, basically, unlawful situation, or would she find ways to resist?
Maybe I do not need to be present during Jim’s interrogation. I have work to do, anyway.
This morning is the new beginning. I will be calm, I will be resilient, and I will be subordinate.
A message on my bridgeplate from Citadel21 channel: “Mr. Smith, to my office.”
My heart jumps so high, it takes me a minute just to capture it and put it back into my chest. OK, ok… Fold the bridgeplate into my wrist. Look at yourself in the mirror. Not very acceptable, but I was not expecting to be invited. Alright, put on a jacket, brush out the remnants of my hair.
Take a breath. March to the former classroom.
When I come in, THE INTERROGATION already in the full swing.
{the interrogation about Jim being gay, due to its violent and graphic nature, was censored by Prince Moretr until further notice}
The underlying statement for Jim’s new bridgeplate:
“Accept the ruler given to you by God -
The ruler by blood”
And what am I supposed to do with this bit?
That’s why only those who will agree with THIS statement, are going with us to MEOL.
We’re continuing with the funnies from the set of the Emerald Filament reality show.
“… and all of those royalties!” Jim waves his hand.
Comes Henry: “What royalties? For what? You never mentioned that before! How much money in royalties are we talking about? When were you going to tell me?!”
Lady Ti: “Henry, calm down, James means “The Royals”.
Henry, visibly disappointed: “Oh… (shakes James by his shoulders) You will tell me IMMEDIATELY when you make more money!”
“And with a swing of his sandal
He can create a huge scandal.”
Jim about Henry, lovingly covering him with a blanket and tucking him in for the night.
Next scene is not for the faint heart. In this scene it is 8:48 am, and I’m trying to persuade James to contest Jaguar’s decision to exclude me from his channel of communication, leaving James alone, without witnesses, with his handler, and exposed to possible indoctrination with the use of drugs. This is what I suspect.
“James, you must understand - games are being played. People are not being honest. You are being used!”
“This is what I need to tell you once and for all, Uollace.”
He says my name with a strong Russian accent: “Uolles”. That used to amuse me, but we’re way past that now. I came to replace Sheba, and now I AM SHEBA in her desire to clean up our department, basically. Why did I get swept down that one?
“I’m listening, James.” I’m calm outwardly, but jittery within. I know James will not let me have the upper hand in this conversation.
“My sweet and most revered classmate, Kelus, of whom one day I will write a separate book, once told me the story about how she got his first job, that changed her life. She was 17, right after high school. She had no education, no training, no money, her mother just freshly committed suicide by throwing herself under a truck, and her older brother was beating the living crap out of her.
So, she just walked into a large hotel in Moscow, asked for a manager and begged him thusly: “I understand that you do not know me, and you do not take kindly to people who walk from the street, but I’m in a dire financial situation. Please take me as someone, ANYONE. How about a maid? I will be a very good maid!”
And the manager looked at her, and said - “Hm… You are young, tall and beautiful. Do you know “Hospitality: food and beverage in English?” Kelus says - surely speak enough English for that.”
And they took her as a waitress right on the spot. In the subsequent 15 years she made an awesome career in that hotel, landing in bed with Jabrailov himself. Now, THAT was cool.” Jim falls silent.
He is in bed, and he can’t walk.
He hobbled back from yet another interrogation with Jaguar, that took place two days ago. James was in bed ever since, barely able to get to the bathroom.
And, please, what would be OTHER suggestions as to WHY he came back from an “interview”, hobbling and howling under his breath? NOT because he was beaten there?!
“Why are you telling me this, James?” I’m writing down everything he is saying, wondering how this is even possible - that we’re here living our life, being very sincere, and our lines are unscripted for the most part.
And yet, this is a reality show
‘So I feel like Kelus at 17. PLEASE take me as ANY employee… I will clean your bathroom, I will be taking your garbage, I will wash your floors… But I need a job. I’m a sexual offender, I could not hold a job to save my life, I’m a delinquent and a misfit. And I’m 47, not 17, which only makes it worse. Enough to bend you over and backwards in the amount of pain I’m experiencing that I never fit into the fabric of the society, Wallace!”
“Please, get me closer to where you’re going with this, for I’m lost. What does that have to do with the fact that two days ago you came back from the interrogation with Jaguar, as if a bunch of horses trampled you over, and never got out of bed ever since? Is it why I’m not allowed to be there? So he can beat you up without witnesses, James?”
Kellspell takes a deep breath, while working his bridgeplate non-stop, even as he is talking to me. Moving colourful clouds, pulling a cloud of one color through another cloud, and so on.
He is connected to so many channels at once now, that no matter what is going on on one particular channel, he can no longer focus on anything deep enough or long enough.
“I feel like Kelus - please take me… Give me ANY job, so I could support my three helpless dependants - Henry, H.M., Krotkie…. Right, Wallace? So, I bleated that for long enough, and now Jaguar wants me.”
“So?” I shake my head.
By his tone I feel that Jim is hurting, feverish, and smiling with this faint ghostly smile, which leaves you wondering about his mental state.
“So, Lady Ti offered me a job. She put Jaguar as my boss. I will do whatever he tells me to do. Whatever makes him happy, I will do. And if it makes him happy to communicate with me in private - I will let him do it.”
“James, we all know, and you have proven, that your loyalty has no end, but maybe you need to hear your Arkchil Operator for once - when they shut out the free press, it is the beginning of the end!”
Today is an overcast day. I had a lot of regrets this morning. I could have done things better in my life, and I could have loved people more, and I could spend less money on myself…
But none of it hurt me more than the fact that I’m woo weak to fight Jaguar directly. I can only fight him through James.
“It is only coming to be the way it was supposed to be. Everything will be put in its places correctly. We all will be happy and healthy forever, once the Sequence is complete.”
“What? James, what “sequence”? Why are you being hurt? Why am I being silenced? How do I get a hold of Sheba so that Jaguar does not know?” I come very close to him, and I bow my head right when someone else would be breathing words of anger into Jim’s face. But I’m an omega. I can’t speak with anger. I can only ask.
“You are asleep and delirious, Uolles.” He starts. Kissing me on my tight, thin, old man’s lips. “You see things negatively, because you’re under the influence of the ego-program in your mind.”
“You are being used, James.” I’m not going to let him get the best of me, because he is psychic, because he can see right through me, or, maybe, he thinks he can.
“Stop being like Sheba!” He leans over and bites by lips.
As he does so, I have a chance to see the ceiling through the pain he is causing my lips. The Andromedan Rainbow Triangle clock is projected onto the ceiling of our bedroom. But it is not always there. Only when Kumlatov and Moretr hurt the most.
Sheba never mentioned it in the official record, but she told me in private that sometimes the Andromedan Clock appears in the middle of the night and it glows the rainbow so bright - none like that on Earth.
And then, in the morning, she’d receive the news of more military action in Conflagrance City of Mesmerix, human casualties, and their anti-Leot rebellious Grehedis leaders kidnapped and taken to undisclosed locations.
“I wish I was not like Sheba.” I respond very calmly, while everything inside of me bursts with love, and suffering, and longing for him. “And I was not. For six months I was not, James. For six months I was myself.”
His glance, usually unfocused from all the drugs, but also, from what he sees on the bridgeplate through both Grehedi and the Sheiredi channels, is now all on me. His eyes scan my essence, penetrate me deeply, and hurt in my groin. Yes, you heard me right. James has no problem reaching out all the way to every part of your body, all the way to your toes with his glance, if he wishes so.
Or when he feels that his omega needs to be put back Into his place.
“And then?” His whisper gives me shivers, but does not cool my ardent desire to throw myself at his feet and beg him to top me.
Even as he is very busy and in the middle of three things at once.
Even as there is a long line into his bed, and Henry is always Number #1.
“And then Jaguar cut me off. And then you came back from an interrogation, beaten so bad they had to give you food in bed the next morning. And as Lady Anne served you food, she did not say a word, neither did you. So, I HAVE TO GO ALL SHEBA ON YOU. This IS a violation. You ARE trying to silence the free press, because you think that Jaguar and Lady Ti are giving you a “job”, which you need, because you’re tied with your obligations to your “karmic sons”. I get all this, James. THIS IS HOW people are used - desperate people are very easy to use!!! And you’re desperate to take care of your family. But if I had a slice of a chance to let Sheba know what is going on NOW, she would know that Henry’s insolent attempts to control you looked like a child’s play in comparison with how Jaguar is twisting you. My heart bleeds for you, and for the freedom of speech you decided to throw away so easily when you did not defend me.”
Jim’s unfocused glance falls on the bridgeplate again, and a bright flash lights up his face.
“Two more civilian hexagons in Conflagrance City of Mesmerix were just hit by Leot’s Forces.” He comments. “56 human casualties, all Salima’s people. We’re going to be in the war zone in less than one year, Wallace. And when we’re in the war zone, you will understand that following the orders of your command centre is the best thing you can do to stay alive. Even if you disagree with them. They know better.”
With all due respect to the casualties on Mesmerix, and on Andromeda at large, he is not going to stuff that down my throat to shut me up.
There is war and there is freedom of speech. The first should never trample the second.
“Can you just tell me why you left me in the cold? You told me I was “your omega”, yet, you did not help me when I needed help. You did not defend me when I was being attacked. What gives, James?”
And I know that these are heavy accusations. Even Sheba never went this far. I expect James to explode. I need his reaction, I need his explanations.
But James is no longer looking my way. His glance is on the darned bridgeplate.
So, with that I feel like I have no choice but to do the impossible.
I walk out on him.
It’s like a soldier walking out on his officer.
They’re going to kill my James, they will. Riding him hard, they are. Couple more years of that, and he is toast.
“So, who IS Jaguar, James? You know him?”
“You know him, too! I let you see my past life with him. Back 18 years ago, man!”
I knew OF him, yes. And I also THOUGHT I knew him. But now, up close, I’m torn and conflicted.
8:49 am, and I’m now up since 5:30 am just about every morning. James gets up earlier, because Kumlatov sends him a lot of info, and demands Jim’s response. Today there will be at least one more video of atrocities, perpetrated by the Grehedis on the Sheiredis. The idea is to brainwash Kellspell to the point where he will take the Sheiredi side, tip the balance, and help the Sheiredis to power.
Jim says he sees right through this. The Sheiredis, he says, will be even more bloody that the Grehedis if allowed to come to power, for they’re motivated by revenge. He will not allow another 50 million-year civil war, Jim says. The prophecy will be corrected.
How? He just needs to be mentally stronger than a sentient being who created the ship we’re on, so that they could intercept the Prophet and twist him with their doctrine.
Jim needs to be stronger than Commander Uri Kumlatov, of fifty million years old.
Jim needs to overcome 50 million years of the Sheiredis’ momentum in the wrong direction. It’s like an ant trying to stop the Titanic.
;Talking about mission impossible. I’d be howling all day long if I had a task like that in front of me.
And all this was in the script.
Maybe that’s why…
Last night Jim was brought into our bedroom by Dr. Michael after a three-hour interrogation at the office of Mr. Jaguar.
James was stark naked and bleeding all over his body. The marks on his skin indicating that he was whipped.
Dr. Michael threw Jim on the bed and walked away, his face smug and satisfied.
Jim laid in bed for the rest of the night, silently, and barely moving. the sheets slowly soaking in his blood.
No one came to help him at all.
No one, but Wolf “Krotkie” Hafnian.
Hafnian licked just about every whip lash mark he could get to, then curled around Jim’s feet and fell asleep.
Henry was not allowed in, and I assume he slept in his bedroom. If yes - he was very quiet. If no - he may have been moved to Prince Moretr’s office for the night.
I laid by his side, writing a letter to Sheba in my mind (the only place that is not monitored by Jaguar now. Maybe, not for long).
“Dear Sheba, You will never receive this letter, because I have no safe way of sending it to you.
I must say, that I did not always agree with your methods. I also used to believe that your nose may have been stuck too far into Jim’s life.
However, 6 months into doing your job, and all this is changing.
If you thought Jim’s life was hard when he Henry was thrust upon him, think again.
Throw away everything you ever thought was possible. I’m laying by a tortured, hurt James Kellspell. It’s been three weeks of interrogations by our “new management”, where James was subjected to every kind of abuse I can imagine.
I do not know how to help him, I do not know how to protect him, and I’m at a loss for who to contact. The new management cut me off from monitoring Jim 24\7, and now they can do whatever they want with him, with impunity, without witnesses.
I believe that Mr. Jaguar has no authority to lock me out of Jim’s Channel, and his actions are unlawful. I also believe that Mr. Jaguar is using his position to mistreat his naive, gullible subordinate.
I also was told more than once by Lady Tigress that if I open up my mouth about things I have seen, I will have severe consequences. Possibly, the same consequences you have suffered, all the way to removing me from the set.
With nothing else to do, I’m sending you the mental image of the bed sheets, soaked with Jim’s blood.
As I already said, I can only see Jim’s channel when Mr. Jaguar allows me to, so there are huge gaps as to what happened during that interrogation.
In other words, like James likes to say, I’m at a loss, I’m stumped, I’m upset and I feel alone. Apparently, as we both came to find out, these are the occupational hazards of Arkchil Operators.
I need you, Sheba. I need your clear, sober mind.”
And in the middle of all that, hilarious exchanges. God forgive me.
James Kellspell: “Konstantin Andreevich was a man of rare purity, my Lady!”
Lady Ti, distraught: I watched him go into the whore house, James!
James Kellspell, unrebuffed: The one on Bohemia street? So what, I went there, too! Did they take him?
Lady Ti’s mouth falls open, her expression is incredulous.
Kellspell: That’s right! By your face I see that they did not! They turned me away at 17! What was his chance at 71?
Lady Ti, slowly recovering: He did not go there to seek employment! He went there to have sex with women!
Kellspell: Oh…
Lady Ti, rolling her eyes: … and the reason they did not take you to work there, was because you were a male.
Kellspell: Oh…
Another one. I don’t know if I should just let this one go, but Henry was greatly amused by it. I’m still on the fence about this one. We should not laugh at Jim’s disability.
Here we go. Lady Ti is trying to teach James math.
Lady Ti: Ok, you find yourself at the second floor of a hotel. There is a sign on the wall: Rooms 201 to 225 is to the left, and rooms 225 to 248 is to the right. Your room is 221. Which way will you go?
Kellspell: Man, I can see that wall vividly. It’s pink-ish… Dirty. I stayed in one of those in Los-Angeles once… I can see numbers, too. Numbers are in black, right? I see it with your eyes. It looks like a cheap, crapy hotel. There is no way someone like you would stay there…
Lady Ti: Correct, I see the numbers in black. Whether I’d stay there or not is not the point. I imagined all this to help you understand how to count, James. So, if you are in the room 221, which way will you go?
Kellspell, staring right in front of himself, searching Lady Ti’s mind for images that can help him get the right answer.
Five minutes later, Kellspell is totally frustrated: Well, this is impossible to solve. The number “221” is NOT among the black numbers on the wall that you see. That’s nuts! Are you sure it is on the SECOND floor? Should we search other floors?
Lady Ti: No. Other floors are not involved.
Kellspell: But how do you know that? We haven’t looked!
Lady Ti: I will clue you in: if your room is 221, you need to go LEFT.
Kellspell: But why? Rooms to the left are “201”, and “225”, but not “221”! That’s why I suggest to look elsewhere in the building!
Lady Ti, taking a deep breath: “201-225” CONTAINS “221”.
Kellspell, shocked: BUT HOW?!
This morning, at ungodly 3:45 am James was led away by grinning Dr. Michael into Mr. Jaguar’s room.
Dr. Michael literally dragged Jim out of bed in his briefs. Jim looked miserable, just awoken, disheveled, but that did not stop Dr. Michael.
Is this the Dr. Michael I know? What happened to a rightful man i used to have theological conversations with? He is not himself nowadays. Since interrogations started he descends from the Spiral Staircase with a feverish twinkle in his eye, and looks at me like he is the street cat that knows where morning dove chicks are.
And he can’t wait for sunrise to get them. So, at 3:45 am he walks into Jim and my bedroom (granted, there are no walls surrounding it at his request), and just pulls James out of bed.
Then there was screaming coming from the former classroom, now occupied by Lady Ti and Mr. Jaguar.
I got up and got dressed, hoping I was going to be invited, because I MUST be with my James.
My bridgeplate lit up deep blue, and when I looked, there was a signal.
But it was not coming from “Citadel21”, Mr. Jaguar’s channel.
It was coming from “The Rubinstein Compound”. Which is basically this building here. What is that supposed to mean?
;This is where I said “fuck it”, and walked out, with my heart heavy for two reasons.
Reason #1
Technically and by Andromedan Law the Personal Arkchill Operator to a Valuable Person is supposed to be present with him, or her, 24/7, and make record of EVERYTHING they do and say, or, everything that is done or said to them.
But, since we were acquired by Lady Ti and Mr. Jaguar, who is her complete and consummate puppet, for God’s sake, Mr. Jaguar has been breaking every law in sight.
Thusly, I am not allowed to be present during Regent Kellspell’s interrogations, and I had to walk out of the building not to hear Jim’s screams.
Reason #2:
I had to walk out with a heavy heart because I love James and I want to help him get out of the situation where he gets beaten every day.
I can’t stand his body covered by bruises anymore. Did you know that if you hit someone with a thin metal rod, the mark would be not a lash but a huge bruise where the end of that rod touched your skin?
I’m beginning to get this, studying marks on Jim’s body. At first I thought he was beaten with someone’s heavy fists, but I was wrong. They were thin metal rods, he said.
I said - who whipped you with thin metal rods? Mr. Jaguar?
But he did not answer me.
Of course it was Jaguar. Who else?
Heavy in my thoughts, I walked out of the sliding door, followed for a while by Hafnian. He sticks his wet nose into my hands, and then walks away, back into the sliding door, and to the hall, and into Lady T’s Quarters (former classroom), where Jim’s screams could still be heard. THE BEAST is allowed, and I’m not.
I walk across the lawn and I know that, despite our disagreements on “gay agenda” (I had to take Sheba’s side), Isaak Milgram WILL NOT throw an empty whiskey bottle at me. He only throws it at those he deems to be “having too good of a time”. Obviously, he lives here, he is friends with Dr. Michael, and he knows James is being tortured every day now.
So, as his mate AND his Personal Arkchil Operator, I’m NOT having a good time right now.
I look up at Milgram’s windows. He’s GOT TO know what is going on with James. Jim was nice enough to spend eight months of his life in Calabases trying to help Milgram out of many an issue. Seemingly, to no avail.
Where is that SOB? I can’t see anything there. The sun is in my eyes.
The sun is always in your eyes here, as it goes from left to right, and not across the horizon. It’s not “sun”. It’s a Tribelin engine. More on that later.
I walk between the two walls of holly hedge and to the path that leads into the pine woods. At some point I will not be able to hear them hurting my Jim.
There’s got to be a relief from this. How did I find myself in this situation? What is going on? Who do I get a hold of?
“Fancy meeting you here. Wallace.”
I lift my head.
“OMG SHEBAI MUST TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!!” Comes out of me before I can even control myself.
“No. I MUST TELL YOU something.” She holds me by my shoulders, and she is dressed in a grey suit. She hates wearing suits, I know that from “Sky Over Morrill”.
“How are you here in the woods, dressed in a suit at 4 am?”
“We DID receive your letter.” Sheba responds, and makes a move into the shadows, away from the lights of the Rubinstein Compound.
“How did you know I was coming here?” I feel uneasy. I do not know why. Shadows are playing on Sheba’s very gentle face. She is unshaven, and there are dark circles around her eyes.
She is supposed to be having a good time with David Reddington!
“David is monitoring your movements, Wallace. But then we had to use your bridgeplate to send you a coded signal. When dealing with Mr. Jaguar, you have to be on the alert. I remind you, he was a military officer in more lifetimes than we can trace.”
Oh, I see. The signal on my bridgeplate that was coming from “The Rubinstein Compound”.
“I think we’re fucked. I think our Prophet is being used, twisted towards one certain nation, and OUR PRODUCERS are the one who are exploiting THE ONE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO DEFEND FROM EXPLOITATION!!!” I say that very loud in Sheba’s face, if only out of fear to hear Jim’s screams again. So, subconsciously, I increase my voice to drown out what I can’t take.
“I know all that.” Sheba’s face is calm, with a slight smile. “If you want to help James, if you want to save out face in front of the Intergalactic Community, If you want to know what is really going on, follow me.”
“So, you’re telling me, there were FOUR men in the room the night James was brought beaten beyond recognition? Who were those men, Sheba?”
“This is exactly what David and I are trying to figure out. One was Mr. Jaguar, then there was Dr. Michael…”
“That man has lost his mind with his desire for revenge.” I grind my teeth.
‘Guess what, after I was carried out from the set, I recovered and did not stop my research.” Sheba remains in the shadows, her eyes hooded.
“I’m shocked!” I admit. “I would never continue digging if I were you. I admire you.”
“”What did you think David and I were doing? You think we were too drunk to see what was going on with Kellspell?” Sheba is suddenly on the offensive.
“NO!” I shake my head.
“You thought we were too disengaged? Too much into each other? Too Jewish?”
“No, geez, Sheba, come on!” I lift my hands in complete surrender.
“What else did you find out?” I inquire, feeling a bitter taste in my mouth. It is the taste that you get when you know you’re alone, and you’re up against the world, and, by God, there is no one to help you.
“Dr. Michael had placed a spell on Jim that is killing him.”
“What? I thought Dr. Michael was Jim’s friend?” I exhale and sit down in the tall grass. I can handle it no longer. The moon is gone now, and pre-dawn sky lights up to the left of us.
The Tribelin engine is set to get up at 6:15 am this morning.
I wonder if they’re still beating James with thin metal rods as we speak.
This is where I break down.
Sheba, who never knew how to use a bridgeplate, pulls it out of her right wrist, and starts scanning me like a pro.
“Yes… They are. They are beating him with thin metal rods. How do you know that?” Sheba responds to my innermost thoughts.
“FUCK!” I scream. “Why is this happening to him? How can you say it in such a nonchalant manner? Is Dr. Michael beating him?”;
“Yes.” Sheba responds slowly, gazing at the half-full moon.
“God help me.” I no longer know what I’m saying, as I HEAR Jim’s screams again. “Do you have anything strong?”
Sheba hands me a bottle of Canadian Whiskey.
“Don’t thank me. Curtesy of Mr. Rubinstein.” She sighs and looks at her wrist watch.
“So, what was the spell that Dr. Michael had put on James?”
Sheba answers with very little hesitation. She says it like a school child, told to learn and recite a poem:
“There is a painful punishment that I lay upon you, and you are to execute it upon yourself, as I will stand right by you and make sure you follow through with the sentence I impose upon you for breaking into my house three times in the middle of the night as me and my family was sleeping peacefully and did nothing to provoke your evil actions.”
That son of a bitch Dr. Michael never got over Jim’s transgressions.
“This spell has to be sealed, or it will not work.” I say meekly, knowing the answer already. Knowing Jim’s love for Dr. Michael, knowing how desperate Jim was to retain Dr. Micheal in his life, no matter in what kind.
“It WAS sealed. By James himself, Wallace.” Sheba says matter-of-factly. Through the shadows, the dark circles under her eyes are looking even more menacing, making her appear haggard, malnourished, rabid. “James agreed to the sentence and signed it, thanking Dr. Micheal for the strength of his character.”
“Just what I thought,” I respond, my lips numb. This spell can mean any form of self-mutilation. Exactly what Jim has been doing his whole life.
When police was called into his house he shared with H.M., and he faced possible domestic violence charges, the police made him recite every mark, every tattoo he had on his body. He did not have any tattoos, but the marks on his body occupied that policeman for a while. All of them were caused by one or another form of self-mutilation.
I watched that tape. He showed the policeman his hands. Cut marks, burn marks, you name it - he had it.
“So, what ARE they beating out of him, Sheba? What confession do they want?” I ask the most logical question. “You were on Jim’s Arkchil Channel the longest of all of us - almost three years. Tell me, are there any closed doors in Jim’s ‘Mind Palace”? Is that what Jaguar & Company want?’
Sheba’s face is lit up by yellowish waves of her bridgeplate. “Oh, there are plenty of locked doors in Jim’s Mind Palace.”
“Who’s got the keys?” I wonder, now calmer. Jim is no longer screaming, for a while, I guess. But now I feel different about his fate, and hearing it again. This is what behind those locked doors. His problems, transgressions, mistakes. He did commit a crime against Dr. Michael.
How would you feel if some creep got into your house, walked past your sleeping minor children, walked into your bedroom, stood over you for half an hour, watched you and your wife asleep, and then kissed you.
You think it is cute? Would you have liked that?
This is what James Kellspell did to Dr. Michael.
A little known fact: Dr. Michael is a ”Doctor of Psychiatry”. He was not a doctor, when James broke into his house. But after that happened to Mr. Hugh Michael, he studied for 10 years and became “Dr. Hugh Michael”. He obtained a Doctorate Degree in Psychiatry to figure out what might have moved a man he knew casually, to break into his house with a thought of a sexual assault. Three times in a row.
It kind of puzzled him for the rest of his life. Can you blame him?
“Lady Ti has the keys to every door of Jim’s Mind Palace. So does Mr. Jaguar.” Sheba says, and drinks ‘Canadian Whiskey” straight out of the bottle.
I let a minute of stunned silence be torn by more screams coming from Lady Ti and Jaguar’s Quarters.
I can’t help but imagine being whipped by THIN METAL RODS.
“SHEBA, WHAT THE FUCK!!!” I scream, now filled with Jim’s pain, and Jaguar’s utmost cruelty, and Dr. Michael’s weakness by wanting revenge instead of forgiveness.
All that slowly floats away into the background, and I come up with only one logical comment:
“If they’re not trying to extort any confession out of him, if every room of his Mind Palace is available to them, then why are they torturing him??!!”
Another long minute passes.
Then two.
Sheba is looking into her bottle as the first pre-dawn light is playing with whiskey within. She is drinking WHISKEY, at 5 am, in a suit, on a Sunday, in the woods which are an illusion created by the aliens who came to save the Earth.
I could not have come up with a more bizarre situation, but my mate and my dear friend is being tortured next door as we speak, and there is nothing I can do, because I’m on a alien ship, and the only one I can turn to is this transgendered woman by my side.
“Maybe they’re not torturing him to extort a confession.” Sheba, then, suggests as the first rays of sun light up her very Jewish profile Jim adored and kissed.
But all his caress was in vain because Sheba had David Reddington in her heart, and, even in the absence of Henry, James failed to secure Sheba’s heart because Sheba’s heart HAD ALWAYS belonged to David Reddington.
And, exactly, how James Kellspell, raised on the streets of a third world country, was supposed to compete with DAVID REDDINGTON, a high official from Washington, D.C.?
That is what James asked me, when everything about Sheba had come out.
But it is too late for all this.
Like a vampire, Sheba disappears with the first rays of sunlight.
“Wait for our further signals. We will come in Blue. Code is “Reddington60”.
Her famous last words.
Oh, that’s inconspicuous.
“Reddington60”? It’s like signing your own name under the note “This is robbery. Give me all your money.” that you hand to the bank teller ;).
They could not be more obvious.
But what do I care? I feel like a fish in a sea of pain. All I ever do is inhale pain. At some point you no longer care when, or how.
You just have face-full of pain. Nose-full of pain.
Brain full of pain.
Noise in my bedroom. I think Dr. Michael brought the prisoner back. He usually throws Jim on the bed from as far as he can, to cause him even more pain, and Jim falls like a bag of freshly chopped Thanksgiving turkeys.
I actually FEEL those metal rods on my back now.
Whiskey. What happened to that whiskey? I’m going to need a lot of it.
I hurry to apply cold towels to Jim’s wounds.
God give me strength. I want to ask for some from Sheba, but she is long gone.
The sliding door to our bedroom that is suddenly too heavy. The smell of blood in the air.
The new day casts the light on my mate on the bed, bleeding all over again. The old bruises looking black in the shamelessly golden, joyful sunlight. New lash marks over the old bruises.
A garden of color. A study in suffering.
Until this started happening, I had no idea that a bruise can cover SO MUCH of your skin surface. BEFORE all this I only encountered SMALL bruises. But, Jaguar’s punch, apparently, can deliver a good wide one for the next five days.
They are not torturing James Kellspell to extort confession?!
So, WHAT WOULD BE ANOTHER REASON FOR YOU TO BEAT someone into unconsciousness?
“James, I know you’re not going to answer any of my questions, and I care not have another interrogation, while I swear, you deserve one, you secretive SOB.”
“That’s what they said.” Jim answers in heavy whisper, and blood leaks out of his mouth on the pillow as he is saying this.
I shudder, because I did not expect any answer from this profusely bleeding man. He is laying on the bed, stark naked. Exactly as it was yesterday.
It is 7:05 am now. I see lash marks - even on his inner things. Fuck. What is Jaguar’s problem? He is ten times worse than Henry.
All Jim ever gets here is crap from everyone. Henry, Dr. Michael, now Mr. Jaguar.
And now Sheba tells me that there were FOUR men in the room.
“James, you can remain silent all you want. You can have your Miranda rights, and stick them up your ass, but I found out that there were FOUR men in the room!!! Four men beat you. We know that Jaguar and Dr. Michael were there, and you can’t cover up for them. Who were the other two? And why were they there? What is going on? Why are you being beaten every day for three weeks straight? What are your thoughts on that? When are you going to start talking? Also, “Emerald Filament” reality show ratings went up 45% since Jaguar&Cronies started beating the living crap out of you. Is all of this for the show? Is it? You’re letting them act out their sick desires on you so that we all can have high ratings on Moretr Enterprises Channel? James? Are you there? Passed out? Sheba is monitoring everything about these gentlemen, if we can call them that, and she will stick it to them when it is time. None of this will go unpunished. Do you hear me, James? I will get to the bottom of this bullshit. You watch. Mr. Jaguar has a lot to answer for.”
“Like a fly, Uolles… a like a pesky fly, man. SHUT UP. LET ME ENJOY THE AFTERMATH. It will not last forever.”
This is where James falls silent, and he forces me off air by accessing and disabling my bridgeplate. An unlawful move, but James can do this to me. He is my beta and I’m his omega.
And, obviously, all there is left for me in this case is go get some lunch.
Howling about hurt feelings is a waste of time here. Ask Sheba.
;A-and welcome to our lovely set of “Emerald Filament” reality show.
James is tied to a chair, injected a very painful drug, and he is screaming. But while you’d just scream, he recites the Periodic Table of Elements. Thusly:
“Hydrogen! Lithium! Sodium!” James strains his whole body against restraints, only to spit out foam out of his mouth.
Lady Ti is crying in Matushka’s shoulder, while I desperately try to wipe out the foam from Jim’s mouth. But the violent movements of his head prevent me from doing it.
“Potassium! Rubudium! Caessium! Francium!”
Well, that completes alkali metals. I have heard it all before. We’ve been at it for three days now, but I only had a chance to write this down now.
Three days ago, on Monday, during the time, pricne Moretr’s Arkabins came over through the sliding door, and announced that regent James KellSpell was shot with a harmful prion that would attack and compromise unknown systems in his body.
Upon hearing that James spat his tea all over Matushka’s dress, and froze for a good minute, during which every single one of us at the table freaked out in their unique way.
There is no cure, Prince Moretr said.
They are working on developing an antidote. It is six injections a day. Incredibly painful, affects your muscle. Makes you feel like your muscle burn after a workout, but 20 times more.
Here he is, screaming after a third injection today.
“James…” I pour water on his face, as he is semi-unconscious, rolling his head there and back, his body detrained, sweat running down his temples. “Use the painkiller.”
The painkiller is an 8-ounce bottle in his hands. He can use it as early as 15 minutes after the injection. The problem? It negates the action of the medicine.
The prion was injected two years ago (!).
Prince Moretr’s office only found out because they saw this organisation, close to Leot, take responsibility for their terroristic act, basically. Once they saw it on the news, they dragged James into prince Moretr’s office, and tested him for some anti-bodies, don’t quote me, and he came back positive.
They also told us rather apologetically, that his illness two winters ago (RIGHT when it started, the same fall Sheba became Arkchil Operator to Jim) was very likely caused by that prion. Jim’s violent outbursts, shooting at photographs of his more successful colleagues - the prion would cause you to be more aggressive than normal, they said.
Where do I begin telling you how upset I am at the management of this project? Prince Moretr swore on his Holy Mother that he was going to keep Regent Kellspell safe. Commander Uri Kumlatov of the Sheiredis swore on HIS mother (her name is Tauri and she sacrificed her own daughter for the purpose of bringing down the ruling Grehedis), that he would never let any harm come to Regent James Kellspell, future Arzadellin the Prophet and a Martyr.
And here we are. James screaming out periodic Table of Elements as the prion antidote medicine courses throughout his body.
We did not need this.
We did not ask for it.
But James saw it coming. Always.
“Clandeslux is not a joke, mates.” He used to say long before I came to the set. “Leot will find a way to shut me up.”
And now, this. Leot did “find a way”.
The prion, they are finding out, is called “The Van Der Wall’s Effect”.
“You guys stop crying, seriously… Ow! Berillium, Magnesium, Calcium, Strontium, Barium!!!” Kellspell twists in his restraints, his shirt just about ripping under the pressure of his body against the belts.
It is 3:42 pm. Six injections a day. Six bottles with the pain-killer. After 10-15 minutes of incredibble pain in his muscles (mostly legs, arms, chest, face), James takes the pain-killer.
He drinks greedily in the slowly setting sun, as Matushka stands with the cloth to wipe out the blood off his body as it rubs against the restraints, and I stand by his side with a cloth to wipe out the foam off his mouth.
The medicine will only work for about 30 minutes. His next shot is at 6 pm. When you are facing debilitating muscle pain, similar to cramps in legs, but ten times worse, a twenty-minute gap in painkiller meds can cause you to turn grey-haired.
As Jim lays there, motionless, and the women take care of him, I must jump back in time, four days ago (I really WAS NOT faithful to my responsibilities of the Chronicles lately. I simply had no time - I face the same thing as Sheba! Either life a life or write about it. Lady of Shallott’s dilemma. Anyway. It’s been three days of Jim’s non-stop screaming due to the injections to counter the action of the prion.
I think I have learned half the Periodic Table of Elements already. Jim relies on Lactanides when he is in most pain. Let’s eee. I remember lanthanum, Serioum, Praseodimium… Wait, what is on my bridgeplate?
Oh, that is the residual echo of my Invitation to the Pledge of Allegiance Ceremony” for Regent James Kellspell.
It was in Jaguar’s office. When I left, I was crying. Why? Because of the words of Jim’s vow to Jaguar. It is not what you think,a, and it did not go the way I thought it would. Of all the ceremonies of this kind, this one will ALWAYS stand out in my mind.
“Come.” Jaguar commanded, and James approached him, dressed in sweat pants and a white shirt.
Literally, he could not have been more humiliated by being asked to show up looking like a shlepper, but that did not faze James (he was grateful he was not forced to wear a suit), and no one ever mentioned the way he looked during his OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.
“What do you want?” Jaguar asked James when the latter approached.
“I want nothing but to become a martyr for Our Lady to command me whenever she needs me, wherever she wants me to go.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Please make me impervious to any impact, so that I could be a perfect, indestructible soldier to Our Lady.”
“James! Talk to me!” Lady Ti’s voice breaks through my thoughts and images.
Has it been 15 minutes? Has it been this long? Jim’s pain killer only lasts 30 minutes, but after 15 it wear out enough for him to regain consciousness, and experience the pain in the muscle and the delusions.
“I’m standing on the hot iron grid with may bare feet, above the precipice. It hurts, I must get fro it, but I can’t. If I get off it - I will have to jump into the abyss.”
Lady Ti taps her right writs for the bridgeplate, but it does not come up. It takes a lot of practice to learn to extract the bridgeplate out of your wrist.
Finally, frustrated, Lady Ti hits her wrist against the bed in, and THAt brings up her bridgeplate. “Blue, blue, code blue. Please, I need help.”
She has no idea what she is saying, or who she is saying it to. Basically, she is like a dog that rubs the phone and starts barking into it.
But as your Irish Setter is trying to bark “911” into the phone for another Irsh Setter, the medical team of very well-trained vets is already down the hall.
The Arkabins help Lady Ti up, and they give her some smelly salts (funny, old-fashioned,but it works. The salts contain an aphrodisiac neurotoxin) and they examine James. They leave a few pills on the table and tell Lady Ti to exercise him when he wakes up.
All this leaves her in even more shock.
“Exercise him? Are you out of your mind?” She whispers into the very large backs of very tall Yanari Arkabins,. Prince Moretr’s pride and joy. “You realise he’s been twisting in pain, in bed, for 3 days?”
One of the Arkabins turns around. He looks just like the other ones. ALL Yanari Arkabins look the same. Dark-skinned, long black hair, small black beards. Those beards take, like a hundred years to grow, because their metabolism is so slow.
Every single one of them is cold-blooded. Once we’re on MEOL, they’re going to convert us all to the “ectotherm”. A cold-blooded human. It’s better this way. You can survive longer periods of time in cold conditions. Andromeda is farther from the Original Source than Milky Way. It is MUCH COLDER there, and ALL OF THEM rely on external sources of energy, called “Tribelin Engines” that they hang in the sky, like a lamp, and the start a city underneath.
They can even make it rise and set, if you like. They can adjust its temperature. But it never goes above 3 yarkis. It’s like the brightest of our moons. That’s it. This is all they need for energy. Charge from that. The world is getting colder an colder out there. Why? Why us? What is going on? What are we losing? Where are we going?
“The good news, my Lady.” The Arkabin continues. “Is that he can now drink and smoke himself to death all he wants. By being a victim of a terrorist attack, he has already achieved the martyrdom he craved so. Worry not for his soul. His body will be sacrificed accordingly, and his soul used for my Prince Moretr’s High Purposes.”
With that, the Arkabin slaps the immeasurable biceps of his left hand with his right hand, meaning “all respect to you”, and hastily follows others out.
“THAT insane speech was supposed to make me feel better?!” Lady Ti turns to me, as Matushka stands there, aghast, with her mouth open, watching in silent horror as the Arkabins leave.
“Oh, and did they mention that now he needs to exercise because every one of these shots is 600 calories? He will turn into a Guinness-Record fattest man in the world just sitting there.”
Jim stirs behind out backs.
“Scandium, Ittrium, Lanthanum, Actinium…” James whispers. The last two elements got pushed down, he says. “As I was communicating with the cat from MEOL< that winter - they changed the Periodic table around” Jim told me.
At first, I thought he was delirious, but then I went on the internet - and io and behold. They did move the elements around.
I’m looking cautiously at James, ready to assist him in case he is in too much pain to handle, and then I address my Lady Ti. “The reason he yells out the Periodic Table of Elements is because his father was a scientist. And when his mother would ask her husband to lull the child to sleep, Jim’s father did not know any lullabies. So, he’d SING THE PERIODIC TABLE OF ELEMENTS TO young James Kellspell. Ever since it is the most calming thing Jim can imagine.”
“I’ve heard that.” Lady Ti nods. She has done her homework.
She REALLY wants her James back. Dead or alive. And three is no “dead”. Jim’s personality is backed-up on Prince Moretr’s bridge plates.
They can kill Jim all they want.
Jim can drink himself to death all he wants.;but he is backed-up, with plenty of memory.
As we talk, Jim’s head falls back and he is asleep. Still wrapped up in belts. He needs to remain as still as possible for the first ten minutes after the injection. And try that when you have a sensation of standing on the hot rods above the precipice. Your feet burn, and then every muscle in your body burns, and then…”
“I hate to break this to you, my Lady, but we must get him up to exercise him. He will literally be gaining ten pounds a week if we do not.”
Why am I always the one to bring the bad news? Are there any GOOD news here? This is what Prince Moretr’s Office had promised us - oh, we’re moving closer and closer to the Original Source, and it is getting WARMER and WARMER! So, GOOD NEWS ONLY, just like in the Bible, you bitches, get on with us.”
And today I hear - your mate was shot with a prion. The prion has been affecting his mind for 2 years now. We did a poor job protecting the only asset valuable in this game. We fucked up. Sorry. But the good news are - rejoice! Now your drug-addicted mate can drink himself to death ANYTIME!
Excuse me, am I tripping this bad? Does it make sense to you?
“He can barely sit - he is in so much pain!” Lady Ti spreads her hands in utmost desperation. “How do they want him to exercise?!”
Matushka nods, and Lady Anne is in the kitchen, making dinner for everyone.
THIS CHAPTER IS FINISHED
BRIDGEPLATE 1: “There Is No Way Out Of Truth”
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THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
CHAPTER 134
IN WHICH I GET SURPRISED IN A VERY UNPLEASANT WAY
“Fear is distrust for Father
If Father is right here
Then what is fear?”
Prion that breaks down the synapse of the machine
“When in the middle of the River Styx, DO NOT FORGET - you HAVE TO TAKE at least 1 breath every 3 minutes off the LHS Bridgeplate, or you will forget and fall under the influence of the stupid.”
Melekh to James before sending him back to Level 1 for more life-saving intel.
SHE IS CONNECTED TO THE MOON
SHE FEELS ITS PULL AND IT'S CARESS
SHE IS THE RAIN, SHE IS MONSOON
SHE IS THE SPIRIT TO IMPRESS
SHE IS NOT WHITE, SHE IS NOT RED,
AND DON'T EXPECT HER TO REGRET
SHE IS NOT YOURS, DON'T EVEN BET.
SHE IS A SPECIAL, DARK PALETTE...
SHE LOOKS AT YOU, SO DEEP AND WISE...
YOU THINK THAT IT WILL NEVER END!
BUT YOU MUST QUICKLY UNDERSTAND:
RUN, OR YOU WILL BE HYPNOTISED.
Reg. James Kellspell about Lady Tigress
“Why? Why do I remember “Konstantin Mountblanc”?”
Regent Kellspell, digging through his Arkchil Records in search of something very important.
It’s Henry’s 45th birthday.
And Henry is in London with his family, on Level 1, longing to be with James on Level 2.
Here is the exchange I have been copied to via Jim’s Gray LHS bridgeplate to mine (come to think of it, I still do not know the underlying statement of my Bridgeplate. Must ask James. When he is in a better mood, of course):
Regent James Kellspell: “5:56am. It is 12:56pm am in London and you’re in the middle of festivities.”
Lord Henry Carlton: “It’s 10 am at Genesis 17, and you are playing golf with H.M., thinking about me. There is nothing more I’d like than to be with you.”
Regent JKellspell: “.. and Sophia. Just the closest circle.”
Lord Carlton: “I am in so much pain, James. Please get me out of here.”
Regent JKellspell: 2:30 pm Genesis 17, 9:32 pm in London. I have a sore tooth on my bottom left side and the nearest dentist is booked all the way to October (three months ahead). But that is just the physical pain I never cared about. Henry, your Daddy feels so damn unfulfilled. No one cares about what I have to offer. Can’t make any money… Can’t keep my self-esteem up.”
Lord HCarlton: “I can’t wait for the full moon. This pull is killing me. It is really hot here. At night, I lay in bed and I can almost feel your hand across my back and touching my butt in the moonlight.”
Regent JKellspell: “Henry, what can I say? I want to be with you more than anything. I know you binge-watch the Arkchil Record of my life, and you think I’m the best thing after chopped liver, and you also think I will come and whisk you away from the life you cant’t stand anymore… But in reality I am a loser ond I do not have any money. To add insult to the injury, your price was set at $500 000 000. Again, Henry, way to pull huge numbers out of that sexy ass of yours. The most I could ever make was $2000 a week, but those days are long gone. Even at this breakneck speed it is only $8000 a month. Even at $10 000 a month it is only, ahem… $120 000 a year. I want to make you mine, but we will both die of old age before I manage to make enough money to buy you out. These conversations bring me down.”
Lord Carlton: “My Beloved Daddy, you will wake up in 3 minutes. You will wake up to an unbelievable fortune that is yours. Money is not an issue for you. Question is: will you see me for who I really am as opposed to what you think I should be?”
Reg JKellspell: “Henry, fuck, did you hear a word I said about not having any money to buy your out? What good does it do for me to want you for who you really are, or who I think you are, or who you think they think you should be, or what Winston Churchill thinks you should be, when I’m penniless, and you’re the most expensive whore in London? Sometimes I wonder what was up my ass when I agreed to sign a Covenant with the richest man in Great Britain?”
Lord HCarlton:
“I lay at night and I can almost feel
Your hand caressing me over those sheets
There is an oath to fulfil.
Your boy has needs, your SON has needs!”
Regent JKellspell, turning to me with tears in his eyes: “That was fucking genius! He used my poem weaving app against me. IS YOUR MOTHERLOVING Lord Carlton DEAF? IS HE MENTALLY RETARDED? DOES HE UNDERSTAND ENGLISH?? Is he so desperate and love-struck that he has no awareness that our connection is never going to happen on Level 1?”
Me, sighing wistfully, wanting to be loved the strong, unwavering way Henry loves James: “Mr. Kellspell, you’re talking to Henry’s Level 2, Awakened part. That part of him only operates in the Real World, the world we will enter upon the Sweet and Long-Awaited Awakening. In that world you’re of high standing, and money have never been an issue for you.”
Regent JKellspell: Now I lost Wallace to that madness! Mr. Smith, whatever you’ve been smoking… This is not even funny. Fuck it, then. If you know better what is going on, tell me what I should say to Henry. He is all emotionally broken and bothered up there, and I feel that I will never break out of the constraints of hurtful personal poverty. Let alone go see a Lord in London. Oh, Wings of Level 2 vs. Woes of Level 1!”
Arkchil Operator Wallace Smith: It is all about quantum entanglement, James.
Here I am, trying to get him to remember what his Mission is all about.
Reg JKellspell: … but I have no money, Wallace! What is the proper British way to say “I have no money”? I need this darling, but misdirected boy to understand this once and for all! Henry lives in the world of money. And I could never make money to save my life! Let alone anyone else’s!!! I’m not going to come into $100 000 000 at 50 years old! Henry needs to get this before he is completely engulfed in his unsubstantiated passion for a “Daddy” with no “sugar”!
And right in the middle of Jim’s furious speech, Henry breaks through again:
Lord HCarlton: “Question is, James, will you still want me when the tables are turned, and YOU are the most expensive whore in London, and I AM just an adoring penniless boy at your door.”
James shuts up, staring at his bridgeplate. “Is that what he wants to know? What I’d want or think if the tables were turned?”
Kellspell gives me a desperate look. It is cloudy today. And the clouds obstruct the Tribelin engine that mimics the sun in this fake world of a Strobulus. Sometimes I feel like a reptile in a fish tank here, with a lamp for sun.
“Yes, James. Henry loves you more than his life. He wants to know if you’d still take him now that you know who he really is. He’s been spilling his guts to you now for six years, and his desperate state intensifies by the minute. Only you have the key to the tower where he is locked. Prince Moretr will fund your Quest. Locked up and chained to “his” ego, lonely, nervous and weakened from the fight, Henry has only one question: once you open the door, will you like what you see, now that you know who he really is. Because you will have to marry and spend the rest of your life with what you will find in the Tower, once you open that door. Money is not the issue, James. Prince Moretr can drown us all in money many times over. Henry is mortally afraid that, granted your virtues, you will want to discard what you’ll find behind that door.”
Whew. Honestly, for a psychic, James is very thick.
“Oh…” Kellspell wakes up and rises over all the rat race. “I thought we were past that. I have visited my “bride” in his Tower many times already. I made love to my sweet boy there. Just recently I stole underwear from his hamper as a souvenir, and now I carry it in my secret pocket here…” James smiles and pats his left pocket. “…and I sniff it to get me through the day and for inspiration.”
His LEFT pocket.
Dr. Michael, ever eager to impose more punishment on the “evil creature James Kellspell” recommended that right-handed Kellspell is ordered to become left-handed in at least 40% of the tasks. It screwed up Jim’s mind like hell, but he’d take anything that comes from Dr. Hugh Michael. Within a few months after the challenge he became ambidextrous, and now controls his bridgeplate with his left hand, besides other things.
Kellspell just loves Dr. Michael.
For James is that kind of a stalker that never quits. Once he falls for someone, it is forever. He sees love as just that - FOREVER. And if your love is not forever, then it is was never love, but an ego-trip, disguised as “love”. Shame on you, then.
That is why he stole Henry’s underwear. Ever focused your One-And-Only.
“That’s enough, please!” - I get the response from Henry, encased in a red cloud. Any idiot on Earth will understand it as “blush, I am embarrassed at what I hear.” In Andromedan, it means “Too much into Escaping Proximity/uncomfortable”. We will have fun communicating. Our “background colours” are pretty much the same.
Jaguar approaches James in a rather hurried gait.
“U-huh… A message from Lady Ti… James nods as Jaguar whispers into his ear. ‘Stay focused. I get it.”
Later that day, Henry is back from London. He is on Strobulus, with rather large crowds of people wanting to wish him his Happy 45th Birthday!
There is a reception “only for the closest circle”, and Prince Moretr’s Arkabins counted 324 people just in Lord Carlton’s “closest circle”. These well-dressed people are mostly his parents’ friends, extended family, his father’s business acquaintances, some royalties, yes, and so forth.
Henry’s family is of pretty high standing, which used to kill James. He hoped he’d be mated with a ricksha from West Calcutta, and not one of the richest men in Great Britain.
That is the gist of it, though: when you surrender, you allow the Original Source to find a soul mate for you. And then you do not question your soul mate, or you will break the dream sequence and find yourself in front of YOUR DUMB EGO again.
But James, a socialist a heart, did take it hard that he was mated with a man of formidable means, and, to add insult to the injury, of extended royal blood.
James was asked not to shoot into the crowd just this once.
The request took place after James raised the issue about creme-de-la-creme filling Strobulus again.
James wanted to know where the working class was.
He was shut down by the audience of bourgeois Grehedis who did not care to see poor people in any shape or form.
I wanted to laugh. Until I remembered how much pain Henry was in. And, oh, who cares about the working class, anyway. The bourgeois are also in pain. They also fund this dumb reality show. So, I guess, I better get used to being the puppet on THEIR strings, so I could talk about THEIR pain.
Here goes James, spilling his guts at the Reception, held in the Mood Rug Room. But also, his bedroom. And the lawn. And far beyond that, mostt of the crowd spilling way into the meadow and the pine woods beyond, listening to the Reception over the old-fashioned loudspeakers, hanging in the air.
Lady Tigress decided to keep those hanging after Jim put them there to broadcast one of his angry rants…
“My path used to be bitter for so long. My whole life, and I’m 47. All I ever cared about was suicide. All I ever did was imagine a thousand cool ways I can go.
But then, six years ago, Love knocked on my door.” James takes a breath and caresses Henry with his glance.
Carlton stands right behind James, motionless and morose.
“Rather, if it was his choice, my Henry would have broken down that door and dragged me out of there!
“The love that knocked on my door was my Lord Henry Carlton, right here in front of you’all!” James points at Henry. Henry takes a few steps back and stands on the Spiral Staircase, only a few steps above, but enough to be seen by those even in the farthest rows.
Even as he does so, his faces a serious, detached expression.
“I was possessed by him. And what an ecstasy it is…” Kellspell cast a few demented glances into the crowd. “To be possessed by Lord Carlton!”
Everyone claps, and many erupt in encouraging yells.
“Thank you, BITCHES!” Jim gives everyone a smirk and shakes a head full of WIG.
Lady Tigress thought it would be cool to give Regent Kellspell long black hair. She is all about the show. See, if the audience likes him better with a mane.
I choke on my champagne and rush to elbow James in his side.
But Lady Tigress has already done the job for me.
“Hm.. Ahem… Thank you LADIES AND GENTLEMEN of this very high gathering!” Kellspell corrects himself, embarrassment only a shadow across his DeVo’ing face, distorted by a predatory feline smile.
Kellspell gravitates towards “the cat image”, and cats have very simple rules. Just like dogs. If you can’t eat it, and you can’t piss on it, then fuck it.
James Kellspell is impervious to embarrassment, humiliation, shame - he left all of that behind when he started his DeVo process a few hours before he entered a 9-month crossing of River Styx to be born on Level 1 in 19 {pritemin isvakar} censored.
“… feeling that incredible strength in my Beloved Lord Henry Carlton, I followed my love, no matter where it led me, because I was done serving “my” stupid ego. No matter what I did for it, the ego only and ever made me feel like crap, and was not programmed to show any gratitude. I was through with that program I created to drive myself away from Father.
In other words, I was done running from love, and into the hands of the machine (ego-program).
For 14 months a very good friend of mine was telling me that my love was a complete insanity.”
Jim makes a pause, taking a breath, and giving Henry this deep, longing look as Jefferson Airport “White Rabbit” plays on the background.
“And I agreed with him. Sheba, would you like to come up!”
The crowd stirs and looks where Jim’s hand is showing. We see Sheba and David Reddington hand in hand right in the middle of the lawn. Not too close, not too far from the action.
“No, I would not.” Is heard from the audience, stretching all the way back into the lawn, carefully standing around Matushka’s roses, and watching out for Mr. Milgram throwing empty Red Label bottles from his second-floor apartment down on people’s heads, for trespassing.
Sheba stands in a suit she always hated to wear. It is the color of spring sky in London, maybe in reference to Henry’s blue eyes, or, maybe because this is what David wanted her to wear.
And David Reddington is just as professionally-looking and imposing in his black suit as he was on that famous portrait that hung in Sheba’s mind palace.
Reddington is holding Sheba’s hand, and Sheba stands by his side with her face upwards, looking at no one, possibly choking tears.
All we ever talk about is James and Henry. But, as Sheba mentioned in the very beginning - a narrator’s fate is sad - God only knows what SHEBA had been through those 14 months she had to man the bridgeplate as Jim’s Arkchil Operator.
After all, she was the one who wrote:
“Fourteen months with James Kellspell
Is a special kind of hell.”
“Ok, Sheba is not going to rip a scab off that one, I guess.” Kellspell clears his throat, trying to hide the embarrassment over being slapped by Sheba so ruthlessly, so publicly.
“Anyway… My desire for Henry was insanity, because my heartthrob was, hm… A British Lord, for the love of God! I begged for him to get a hold of himself. I told him that I was just an indentured servant, and a sex-slave, that I made $24 000 a year plus room and board, and I was never going to have any money, or freedom to be able to save my Henry.”
Jim sighs and falls silent, sniffing, and wiping his nose.
Carlton, now off the Spiral Staircase, stands behind him, a formidable frame of 6”1, staring in front of himself, as if the crowd was not even there.
“Here is a note Henry wrote me one winter morning (two years ago, the famous “Winter in Genesis17 due to Flood”, when I thought I was dying: “Suffering is a job and a gift. I will make you suffer like no other.” You must agree, these are the words of encouragement worth their weight in gold!”
Not everyone in the crowd has a face that shows agreement with that. Richard Rockford rolls his eyes. Lady Anne lowers hers. And Dr. Michael nods.
Kellspell tears up and wipes his eyes with a large white handkerchief he was given before the performance. He’d never take it himself. This gentleman’s DeVo is so progressed that he needs no human accessories.
I saw him blow his nose outside into the garden hose. You think I’m kidding.
But, he passed where I failed.
“How could YOU fail at anything?” James used to ask me, confused. “You are so fine, so polished by pain, that you could do anything.”
Not anything, no. I could not do anything against my feelings for him, for example.
See me trail off into HARD feelings as I remember James stare into my eyes, and trace every wrinkle on my old face. “I loved you for two decades. Ever since my BF left me for you…” He’d whisper.
And I can’t help myself, as all my mind flows down into my pants. We just coined a new meaning for “HARD feelings”. A positive one. All I want is for him to take me, and for us to be together forever. We will be. But I can’t have James just for myself. This one is to be shared.
We ALL have to stay focused. Of all people, I MUST stay focused, even as tears burn my eyes, and I want to join them, and say the words with them. Each of them saying it to their Most Beloved.
This is how you cross the River Styx tomes cape the Wheel Of Reincarnations. So little time, so much to write down. You can only cross the River Styx for your most beloved one. There IS A WAY to escape the Wheel of Reincarnations. This is how:
These are the words from the Final, Hidden Part Of Magnificat, The Most Powerful Spell Of Eternal, Unconditional Love”.
There is a reason for such a pompous name. The reason was forged in blood. There is also the reason as to why it is hidden, and will stay hidden until Prophet Arzadellin causes the chain reaction called “Back To The Original Source” within the Andromedan society, and from there - to Virgo Cluster and beyond.
We will discuss these reasons later.
I hear a flock of very loud birds on the background. Weird. Now they have fake wildlife here, too. I have not heard this here before. Must ask Sheba. She’s been here much longer than me. By a year and a half.
Here are the actual Incantations from the “Final, Hidden Part Of Magnificat”, each of which being a binding Spell tyiing you FOREVER to your Loved One:
Incantation 1. I will do as You wish, my Most Beloved.
Incantation 2 You are my everything and I’m very happy to serve You any way I can.
Incantation 3 I am defenceless in front of You because we are One.
Incantation 4 I will do anything to please You, my Most Beloved.
Incantation 5 I am fully obedient to Your Will.
Incantation 6 What is happening around me right now is a diem. I open my eyes in my dream.
Incantation 7 I see You and Me Together, with Love surrounding us as the Powerful Ray Of Light.
Incantation 8 I’m humble to Your Touch.
Incantation 9. Please come to me, love me, I’m calling for You.
Incantation 10 I desire to be in Your Healing Magnetic Presence, for I am cold without You.
Incantation 11 The world around me is insignificant, for all I see is Your Beautiful Face.
Incantation 12. I am grateful to You for the Light and Warmth that You give me.
Incantation 13. I would die for you if I had to.
I am watching each of the members of our Emerald Filament Team say it either quietly to themselves with their eyes closed, or to those at their side.
Dr. Michael is saying it to Matushka, of course. It was their fire that kept James kellspell alive in the 13 years he had to cross over with very little love in his heart.
James is saying it to Henry via bridgeplate, tears streaming down his cheeks.
The birds outside sound much like seagulls, but sharper. And maybe, their cries are longer. It feels like a crowd of forlorn souls that reincarnated into birds, and now they are lamenting their Escaping Proximity choice.
You can still find love as a bird.
But you can hardly find God.
Without Him the way Back Home is impossible.
There is nothing cute about DeVo.
As many of us still repeat their Magnificat, James is already on the horn, releasing another unauthorised message to the people at large on Strobulus.
“I know I have said some very unsavoury stuff… I will apologise for that on one condition. You can be here. But you can’t just be here for yourself. You have to love somebody. Say the Magnificat in your heart. See if you like the taste of it in your mind. And if you can say it wholeheartedly to the one you love…. I will not shoot you…..” James breaks down, and he cries for a good long minute, as Dr. Michael finishes the recital and watches James with barely concealed disgust.
I tap Jim on the shoulder and he jerks with his whole body, sitting on his bed.
“Hydrogen is 75% of all normal matter. A perfect avenue for signal relay, and storage of information. Ergs and Arkchils are both Level 99, but normally Arkchils are the ones using the H-path, the easiest way to transmit information. You know why? The road is for everyone, but we all let the Ambulance through. Arkchils are the Chroniclers of anything and everything that ever happened ANYWHERE or ANYTIME since Big Bang. They need the H frequency like you need air. They need it to hang their network on, and they also need it to make sure the ego machine does not get away with anything. Every move it had ever forced its victim to make is recorded by the Arkchils, whose H-dependent Archives are the source of all the anti-ego meds. Without the Arkchil Record, therefore Memory, we would be powerless against the ego. It only and ever counts on those who will forget how much it hurt to rely on ego’s advice. And come for more advice simply because you are bovine and moronic. Like me….”
Kumlatov whispers something no one can hear and then speaks no more.
No one is laughing at his last words. Kumlatov has a tendency of slipping into The Sea of Suffering in his head and drown there within seconds. From that state he can recover on his own, or go into a maniac-depressive episode, usually resulting in hate speeches against the Grehedis.
Reminder: Leot, the hexapod father of the engineered species called “Grehedis” was responsible for the so called “Massacre of Monolith”. It was believed for a long time that Gina Yasmin of Liberation Front gave orders to exterminate the Sheiredis of Monolith, but it later transpired that she was forced to take responsibility for the actions, performed by Leot’s Forces of AF.
“That’s why I have this job teaching a proto-human imbecile here.” Kumlatov trails off entirely, and falls silent, his wings going all the way down, like slumped shoulders.
That sour face looks even more miserable on his gray-yellow skin in cow spots of darker yellowish skin.
On the background of large wings.
Of the creature that was forced to live in the catacombs his entire life.
Not to come to surface under the penalty of death.
And that is exactly what all of this relatives got when they relocated to another planet.
So they could have a home, where they could fly.
And we want him NOT to have maniac-depressive episodes?
“I have a question.” James raises his hand. He’d be the only one irreverent enough to interrupt our grieving chemistry teacher with a PhD in Interstellar Communications.
And it would be normally OK to ask questions during a lecture on Periodic Table of Elements Andromedan style. Yes, it would be. More on that later. I literally feel like a juggler with way too many balls.
And it would be normal. Only Jim’s question is not about chemistry.
“I get a ton of letters from the audience, mostly situated in Andromeda Federation, of course, as no one else in the Greater Virgo Cluster watches our garbage… Ahem. Why haven’t I been fired yet as your host? That’s the main question. The producers are sleeping at the wheel. Who-hoo. I will say what I want until they just start shooting.” James makes a whistling noise, unaware that we all are looking at him. ‘And they want to know…”
Henry gives Kellspell a disapproving look.
“What? You think I got carried away in the middle of the class?” James shakes his head. “Patience and Faith, my beloved Lord Carlton! I was getting there!”
Commander Kumlatov has this incredible patience with James, who sometimes crosses all boundaries and just runs away. I’d say Kumlatov has “inhuman” patience, but that, as James says, would be an unearned giggity.
“On with your question, James.” Henry finally gets s hold of Jim’s reign. Someone has to. Now lady Tigress controls Jim.
She is on premises, but she needed to talk to Matushka. Lady Ti had her hands full with James 24/7 for the last week, and I kid you not, she did not have one free minute to herself.
That is why she is talking to Matushka when Tensartis James needs his Rider, or the dragon will meet the woody side hill at 100 mph.
The aforementioned woody sidehill is advancing pretty quickly now.
“This question is unrelated to hydrogen…” Jim hides a smile, while scanning the fuck out of Kumlatov.
I know what he is trying to do. He wants the fresh news about the war on Andromeda. The news he believes were denied him all this time.
“You mentioned your job. I want to talk about jobs. Could “crucified” be considered a job, Commander? If yes, I have tons of experience and would like a raise. If no, I’ve been unemployed for 40 years. And I was ESPECIALLY unemployed for the last five months. Maybe, I should explain why, sir. On a Sunday and in front of witnesses, even. For you leave me no choice, Commander.”
“Very funny, Regent Kellspell.” Kumlatov responds with such a face as if he was just hit with a whip.
Obviously, not funny. But James is not laughing either.
“I’d never interrupt your lecture but for the fact that I have not heard from my contact on MEOL in five months, while you, and Prince Moretr’s Yanari Arkabins, ALL looking exactly the same… for simplicity, I assume, they treat me like a mushroom - I’m kept in the dark and fed bullshit. So, please, either continue crucifying me on your silent treatment, letting me think that my friend was kidnapped by Clandeslux and tortured to death, but then call it a job and pay me for it… Or out with it, sir.”
Lady Tigress is done talking to Matushka. Both give James scornful looks.
“I’m here now to apologise for Mr. Kellspell, who can’t keep his mouth shut.” Lady Ti is not even 5 feet, but she is towering over a 7 ft + wings alien. “James, who allowed you to talk? Get back to your desk!”
“Yes, My Lady…” James goes away with his head bowed low.
“But between you me and a whole roomful of Arkchils, Commander, maybe you should have given James an update of the events taking place on Andromeda. He’s been a nervous wreck over that MEOL cat, and that is being reflected on us, Henry and Jim’s own productivity.”
“What do you want me to tell you?” Kumlatov came to, and is now working his bridgeplate to see at what point he trailed off and what memories brought up his embarrassing blackout.
“Let’s begin with the basics. After that terrifying raid, Is the cat from Western MEOL still alive?” Lady iT’s brows are furrowed. A powerful businesswoman, she tolerates no disrespect or game playing, and she can turn any man over like a hapless turtle.
“Yes.” Kumlatov’s eyes are down in his bridgeplate.
“Please do not make me interrogate you, Commander. I will have you know that I have a lot of power with the intergalactic community because my race is five minutes away from being a refugee. Everyone wants to help, and if you do not care to answer my questions, I will find someone who will! Did Clandeslux police confiscate…” Lady Ti frowns and shakes her head. Matushka comes over and whispers into her ear. “Some devices James kept on talking about? The devices that recorded their conversations, or whatever… Please get us off the hook! My family is suffering because you’re tight lipped. You may be afraid of Leot…”
“I’m not afraid of Leot!” Kumlatov responds quickly, and in a really low voice.
Oh, THAT got his attention.
“Then tell me what kind of a hat they already made out of that cat, send me the pictures and the address of their taxidermy shop!” Lady Tigress bites her lip, wondering if that was too risky, too politically incorrect, but Matushka is laughing quietly.
Distraught as he is, James Kellspell is now chuckling.
Today, right now, I’m simply in too much pain to laugh even if I saw Jimmy Hoffa have sex with a mermaid.
So is Henry. He is sitting on his chair over his pretend-written down lecture, and he is staring right through it, and through the table, too. He is staring directly into the eyes of his Pain. The void only his beloved Daddy can fill.
Nothing can ever fill that void, but his Daddy.
Yesterday was his birthday. Today he knows that he will need a lot more patience before he sees James.
Right people in life are like pies. You have to let them have time to be ready. James will come to rescue Henry when they both are ready, and have suffered enough.
But James is unstoppable and incorrigible otherwise. And he takes pride in it. He was in a good mood all day today, which is very rare for him on a rising moon. And now he got good news about his friend.
“The cat is fine. The bridgeplate really was confiscated, but the cat has a copy. So, nothing was lost.” Kumlatov looks at Lady Ti, and a streak of rich-coloured rainbow runs across his eyes.
All children of Kallitris have that streak in their eyes. And a Sheiredi is half Grehedi, but half Kallitris…
“How long has the cat been “fine”, Commander?”
“This whole time.” Kumlatov shrugs and his wings fly upwards in the last rays of the evening sun. They get entangled in our new curtains.
Richard Rockford comes to rescue the large, seemingly frail leathery folds of Uri Kumlatov’s wings.
Kumlatov nods thank you. His wings, by the way, are as soft as they’re strong. This guy is heavyset. Maybe 200 pounds or so. Those wings are meant to keep him in the air. With the right gravity, of course.
“If the cat is “fine”, then why hasn’t it… HE answered any of Regent Kellspell’s letters?” Lady iT’s been bothered by it since she has arrived, and she is not about to let Kumlatov go easy.
“It’s a cat.” Kumlatov shrugs again, this time making sure the tips of his wings stay far away from the curtains.
“That’s it? That’s your answer? Five months of silence after a Clandeslux raid, and you’re trying to play it down to “ it’s just a cat thing”?” Lady Ti turns to Matushka for support, and Matushka nods vigorously.
“There is nothing to “play down”, ma’am.” Kumlatov finally understands he better treat Lady Ti right. “Here.” He waves his hand with very long fingers over the bridgeplate and a picture of Jim’s green-haired friend appears. I saw his picture before. Jim showed a similar re-rebroadcast about 5 months ago, just when I was allowed on the set (I arrived two months prior to that day).
I copy the signal to my bridgeplate and see the green-coloured large cat walk on four legs around his cave, then getting on his hind legs and reaching out for some stuff on top shelves. His paws with prolonged fingers remind those of a monkey, not a cat. The darned furball looks content, unharmed and well-organised.
Lady iT’s eyes widen in amazement. Matushka joins her to see.
“This was 28 minutes ago, rebroadcasted twice, and bounced off our Strobulus’s orbit. So, up to 28 minutes ago this citizen of MEOL was perfectly fine.” Kumlatov says quietly, now distracted by some other images at the top part of his triangular bridgeplate.
Technically, Sheiredis do not need a bridgeplate. They have LPI (Left Parallel Interface) - a stream of information constantly running downwards in front of their left eye. More on that later. But Kumlatov does it to be in tune with his student’s needs.
It is much easier for James to learn the bridgeplate than the LPI.
“But what about all the danger James told us his friend was in?” Lady Ti is now spreading her hands in confusion.
;James was on about his contact on MEOL being in danger since I arrived… Because his friend went offline AFTER the Clandeslux raid, the day Sheba collapsed on the set.
So, it’s been five months of not knowing what is going on, and now this. The cat just did not feel like talking to James anymore? After months of back and forth, and hot propositions?
“There was a long-distance signal that Leot’s systems had picked up over the Western MEOL. Leot sent his forces to check it out. The forces stumbled upon a cat in the woods. They confiscated his bridgeplate just in case. Chances are, no one will ever look at it. Leot’s people do not seriously believe that a discarded, narrow-minded, unregistered species is in contact with The Prophet Arzadellin. No need to worry. No one got hurt during the raid. And then the cat forgot all about it. I have not been “crucifying James Kellspell on my silent treatment for five months”. If James Kellspell had questions, he should have just asked me, instead of assuming things. Now, ma’am, if you excuse me, I must report to Prince Moretr, the only Grehedi I can stomach.”
“My Prince, I have been feeling it for about a month now… The feeling of ALWAYS being very FULL in my stomach. And my stomach has gotten pretty big.”
“What meds are you on?”
“1 hexagon worth (1 unit of 6 times a day at 14% or 40%).”
“I hear you.” Moretr is entering everything. Into his bridgeplate, or, maybe just putting up the pretence, because this is not how to works here. Everything here takes time. Moretr is not physically here, it is his “hologram”, or what, and he, himself, is on the “outer orbit of Strobulus”, so he is renewing himself every 7 minutes. The point is, Jim is in a lot of physical pain, and the help will not come until about two hours later. It is as fast as they can move. They are working on it, though. The more you love someone, the less time it takes to reach out to them. And the Love between us all is only getting stronger.
“I was fighting this for weeks. I know I’m gaining weight because I only take units and do not exercise… But heck, it is happening so fast. My stomach is growling by day, literally. I tried to brush it off, but now as I eat - I feel that I have eaten SO MUCH, while I am continuing to eat normal amounts. But the food adds to the feeling of already being 95% full, while it’s been, like, five hours since I ate, and I should be feeling hungry. And I do, but it also feels like my stomach is inflated with air, and there’s a fake sense of fullness. I tried to brush it all off, because Lady Ti said that I owe her my life and there is no point whining about small physical things. And I was OK with that, but now I started experiencing heartburn after I eat - as if I ate too much, right? But I do not eat too much. I know how much to eat not cause the heartburn… So, I’m struggling with all these issues, while everything is fine and I’m deeply enjoying the medicine at 6 units a day. But the side effect - I’m gaining, what feels like, 3 pounds a week on this med. While my soul is now resting, not in pain, finally. Please advise.”
“Got it, James. Let me take care of your heartburn.”
James sits there for a few minutes, listening to his insides. “Wow, yeah, it’s gone. Way to go, my Prince. Great job. Once that pain is taken care of, I can deal with the sense of fullness, until we figure out what is going on. And what do we do to counteract this effect…”;
THIS IS HOW I FOUND OUT
THAT I WAS NOT INVITED
TO THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE CEREMONY
OF JAMES KELLSPELL
WTF? REALLY? Honestly? After everything I’ve done for James?
The Oath Of Allegiance Ceremony is going to happen any day now. It will be announced, and ONLY THE CLOSEST CIRCLE will have the right to attend. Everyone else will catch the re-broadcast without a sound.
It is that simple. The words of his Oath of Allegiance to Jaguar will remain secret.
But who cares! I will find out, because I will be there. Hey you! Everyone else who was not invited - I WILL KNOW the words of his Oath! I will, and you won’t.
This is what I was thinking yesterday, when Dr. Michael told me that he overheard Lady Ti discussing the upcoming Oath of Allegiance Ceremony. He also knew the decision was made to cut the sound.
Dr. Michael said he probably knew what James would be instructed to say, but we will never know for sure.
Haha, sucker, I thought. I WILL KNOW that very day. You know why? Because I am Jim Kellspell’s Personal Arkchil Operator.
He has no secrets from ME.
But, apparently, there really IS NO way to avoid disappointment when you’re operating from an ego-platform.
Forget disappointment. Replace it with dire desperation.
This morning i was going through Jim’s Arkchil Record, and sometimes you can see the images from the future. These images are of public use nature, and there is nothing secret about them. To the Andromedans.
YOU, however, get swept into the Time Paradox and Seashell Effect. It is like reading a newspaper, and stumbling upon the images of the events that are yet to take place.
And THIS is how I saw it. I was going through a number of recently recorded events of Jim’s life, like a session with the man who runs our show, Prince Moretr:
“My Prince, a number of things. First, it has become very easy for me to block the stupid ego-program from shitting on my day, my soul, my mood and my relationship with You. Once it starts about how hard my life was with so few rewards, I shut it down immediately with just one simple protocol: “PATIENCE, the childish part of me!” And that part of me stops whining.
I want to develop virtues. The only way to develop them is to practice them. Practicing Patience has become much easier for me, now that I’m back in my Family, like a lost gem is now back in its place in the ring. It feels fantastic.
So, when I order my “hurt” self not to whine FOR A GOOD REASON, IT works.
Only a month ago that would not have worked. But now I have my REAL FAMILY back. I’m so happy. I have been alone my whole life. I thought I could live without a family. My family on Level 1 was incredibly far away from me. Both Dobry (20 years of horrific fights and misunderstanding) and H.M. (20 years of horrific fights and misunderstanding) might as well be living on Mars. Or, this is what they think about me, anyway. But fuck that. I was reunited back with MY FAMILY I had to part with when I went on a Mission here. I’m so happy, I can’t whine anymore. My HAPPINESS is here.”
And you might think all that. He might detest how conservative his family was (Dobry, Victor & H.M.). He is not the only one to detest (and contest) his origins and what he perceived as his “constraints”. There is a very funny part to it, though.
His REAL FAMILY is a lot more conservative.
Ahem… Jaguar. Talking about being very strict and very conservative.
Also, with tremendous amount of karmic credits due to immense suffering they had to take, his REAL FAMILY has the power to bring James to his knees, and then hold and re-forge him into whatever THEY decide he needs to be.
And my Lord Jaguar (I’m not allowed to call him that for fear of revealing his true identity. Clandeslux never sleeps.) has some very specific ideas on what James must become to please him and Lady Tigress.
Just to be fair to his biological family, this is exactly what Dobry, Victor and H.M. always wanted, and exactly what Kellspell ran away from.
Now he is embracing it all with such gusto. Sweet James, the true prodigal son.
He will be saying his Oath of Allegiance to Jaguar any day now. I have been watching Jim’s Arkchil Records for twenty years, and I had not seen him this excited.
The words of the Oath will never be made public. And all we’ll see is the picture, with Jim’s moving lips. Not a sound. Not a clue what he will be saying to Jaguar. But, rest assured, Regent James Kellspell will be held to his Oath for the Eternity.
THIS IS THE MOMENT I’M FINDING OUT THAT I WILL NOT BE THERE:
The following people will be attending the Oath of Allegiance Ceremony, as I see them on the images from the Ceremony:
(I have to repeat again for clarity: I’m looking at the pics of them attending, from the future of a few days from now. The Andromedan technologies are nothing you could ever imagine):
Lord Henry Carlton (Dressed in his best suit, happier than I can ever remember him)
Wolf Hafnian (wanted to be… what? Muzzled for the ceremony like Doctor Lector, because someone fears him to be a dangerous wild animal? Wow, haha, Krotkie’s wishes just came up on the screen. Very funny. No, and he was not muzzled. No one sees Krotkie as a “wild animal”. He wishes though. He wishes that!)
H.M. (sleeping in his crib)
As Jim’s proteges
And I’m not among them. This is how you find out that you were not invited. I’m Jim’s Arkchil Operator… I have a RIGHT to be in the room even as Jim is having sex with Henry!
Wait a minute… This is slowly hitting me. I’m not on the Official photograph of the Oath of Allegiance ceremony. I must do something about it before it is too late!
Silly me. I thought I could change something by being a squeaky wheel.
“Good morning, sir.” I appear in the open doorway of Jim and Kumlatov’s former classroom.
That very famous classroom where the Chemistry Test took place. The chemistry test during which Henry hit James in the face and Sheba (then Samuel) got pissed at the Drama Queen of Hammersmith and refused to take the aforementioned test. The brouhaha that ensued had sky-high ratings and it was the most-watched episode among all Moretr Industries shows for that year. For one month it was even more popular than the endless reruns of Bruno Libra’s life, Misty Shield’s songs of cautionary tale, and “Cute Radman Estelians Doing Silly Science Projects”.
Jaguar is standing by the mirror, now, where the class blackboard used to be.
This room is of much significance, and that is why everything that is significant, takes place here.
I mean, they could not just have housed Jaguar and Tigress ELSEWHERE. They had to put them up HERE. Why?
A place of power, that’s why.
“Please, come in, Mr. Smith. Glad to see you.”
“Yeah… I mean… Likewise. Thank you, sir.”
I lose my ability to speak when I see him. It’s been a lifetime of admiring him. A lifetime of wanting to serve him. A lifetime of desiring him.
And a lifetime of wanting to be his student.
However, Jaguar goes the Sheiredi style.
He only takes one student a century.
So many men would die just to shake his hand, let alone become his student.
But THIS century he chose James Kellspell.
Yes, Jaguar commands respect. But also, the grandeur.
Comes to mind: Jim, last night, describing Jaguar’s credentials, drowning in glee. “Can you imagine, Wallace?” Kellspell goes with his eyes sparkling with otherworldly enthusiasm. “Jaguar was an officer in the Navy, then the Army, and then he was a military pilot for 30 years!!! Fuck, Wallace! All I ever did in life was go to America and become a whore! Totally, my man! I could not dream of a better teacher! He is also a superb artist, and an unbelievable fuck. Last night… This is what he did last night… Ohh, Wallace, there is a Sigil. Jaguar does not want me to tell you what happened last night between us... I’m so crippled not being able to share EVERYTHING with my Arkchil Operator!! Darn that!!! But such are my new teacher’s orders… Wallace, I was so happy last night! Jaguar says that I will be saying the Oath of Allegiance to him in less than a week. Wallace, I have never been happier in my life! I will tell you everything once he lifts the Sigils.”
Jaguar shakes my hand.
“Is this a good time to talk about a very urgent issue?” I whisper, and hope for a good result.
His hand is like a grip of a being from another world. His fingers are icy cold, and the strength with which he squeezes your hand leaves you screaming for release.
I have my own, worshipful opinion of Jaguar, for I admired him my whole life.
But here is James. He is a rookie in our Jaguar Admiration Club:
“I cannot even gauge the depth of his feelings for Lady Tigress. And guess what, Wallace? This woman is completely straight, but I’m so hard for her! I have no idea what is going on with my gay compass! This woman is so strong, so controlling, that I lose my marbles! She dominates me with such ease. She is like - Brooks, do this! Brooks, do that! And here I thought I was the king of the hill. Anyway, between the two of them… Power, experience, intelligence - got me tied up. And gagged. I have a hope of conquering “my” stupid ego, Wallace! Once they help me to conquer “my” ego, I will be free. Wallace, I’m so happy!”
“Go ahead. Let me know of your issue.” Jaguar nods, his eyes down. He is inside of himself. His mind palace is called Citadel21. James is the only one who is allowed in there.
“I just found out that I was not invited to “The Oath of Allegiance of James Kellspell”. Is this true, sir?
“It is true, Mr. Smith.”
He has the balls to tell me that, looking me right in the eye.
I can’t believe I was denied access to Jim’s most important ceremony after the Ceremony Of Birth.
Quoting Jim again:
“Get this, Wallace. The machine tells me - oh, if only you had MONEY, you’d be happy!” And “Oh, if only you had FAME, you’d be happy!” And I believed the stupid thing for so long. But now I know - IF I ONLY HAVE JAGUAR - IF ONLY I GET TO SERVE HIM, PLEASE HIM, IMPRESS HIM - THIS IS HAPPINESS! But the ego will never tell you that - it is not programmed to instruct you to search for a worthy cause to serve. It wants you to serve IT, THE EGO. And you suffer in that ego-slavery. But you can be free, if only you served someone OTHER THAN YOURSELF. And it was hard fo me, Wallace, because everyone around me is such an idiot. i just had hard time with all of you. You are all dumbasses. I can see right through you’all. I love you, Wallace, but you are utterly stupid. I was the only shark in the sea of minnows. But here comes this REALLY LARGE SHARK. That motherfucker is so large, and his teeth are so long, and he is so distinguished for the real stuff he did in the military, right, and his math skills take me out, and he was an AirForce pilot, which puts the rest of us to shame all the way down… And, Wallace… He looks at me, and I know I’m cooked. I will do whatever he tells me to do, short of violating the First Rule (“No one shall get hurt through your actions”).”
His hot whisper is still in my ears as I go further with Jaguar. And you have to take it slow with him. Rush is not his style.
“May I know why, sir?” This is all I have to say after a storm of feelings in my heart while I listened to Jim’s words in my mind, all about Jaguar. All about their love affair.
Their romance.
THEIR romance? Why? What does a man like James Kellspell ever have to offer to a man like Jaguar?
Kellspell is necessary for the Empire. This is what he has to offer.
“Yes, you may, Mr. Smith.” He nods slowly, his suit impeccable, his receding hair brushed back perfectly.
Oh, so very proper, my Jaguar…
“I’m Jim’s Personal Arkchil Operator. I was even present when you were having sex with him last week.”
“Well, that would have to stop, too, Mr. Smith. There will be a rule that an Arkchil Operator is equal to press. And press is not allowed behind closed doors, Mr, Smith.”
WHAT? Since when Arkchils are linked to MEDIA?
Are you trying to shut me out because of the things you’re going to do to James, since he is so very important to the Empire?
How is James Kellspell important for the Empire?
I can tell you how this delinquent, violent, drug-addicted gentleman is very important and very necessary for the Empire. He has access to MEOL. A planet with two VERY large continents. The Empire wants to resurrect itself. James Kellspell has room for the Empire to grow.
Due to many a machination Prince Moretr will win MEOL from Leot.
How? He will persuade the Parliament to put the beleaguered, beaten planet for sale, and will ask the venerated Magnitsky Yar of Philippos, the most respected judicial establishment in Virgo Cluster, to look the other way as he would acquire the planet himself, and gift it to his favourite, a cute yappy proto-human, Prophet Arzadellin.;
Then the Prophet Arzadellin will give it to whomever he wants.
Having found out that before time, the Empire stepped in long before James Kellspell was born. Hence, Mr. Leonard Rubinstein striking friendship with Jim’s father.
Sheba sniffed, yes. But not nearly close enough. She thought that Lord Carlton was giving James Kellspell drugs so he could alone have him. Guess what, Lord Carlton was giving James Kellspell drugs because he was instructed to do so by Jaguar.
Luckily, Sheba was removed before she sniffed further than a superficial love affair between bored Lord Henry Carlton and a bipolar, suicidal James Kellspell who managed to attract the attention of the aliens, who happened to have a few extra planets for the Earthlings to escape to when the meteorite hit.
And Sheba did not need to know that while other nations might end up being roommates, the Empire was about to get a whole planet.
All because Lord Henry Carlton slipped the right drugs to one hapless goof named James Kellspell.
“Therefore, Mr. Smith, you may not attend the Oath of Allegiance Ceremony because the press is not allowed.”
“But, sir… Mr. Jaguar… That is not legally possible. As per Andromedan Law…”
“This is not Andromeda, Mr. Smith.”
“Mr. Jaguar, please, listen. If you exclude me, that would mean you’d have to exclude EVERY ARKCHIL HANGING IN THE ROOM NOW. You can’t do that. It’s impossible. Does Prince Moretr know about the new rule you just made up? What about the producers of the show? You can’t make up laws as you go, sir! Samuel Of Salem… I mean Sheba Reddington was NEVER excluded from ANY activities of James Kellspell!”
“Sheba Reddington is no longer with us.” Jaguar responds dismissively.
And just like that, he is already on the phone, and is waving me out without even as much as looking at me.
And I leave.
Defeated. Still unbelieving.
This, after a lifetime of faithful service?
Later tonight, after I told James about all my feelings when I found out that i was not invited to his Oath of Allegiance Ceremony. Also, why I was not invited, and what my thoughts were on the way James was being used by the Empire.
“Oh, Wallace, come on! This is bullshit. Lady Ti and I go WAY BACK! To the turn of the century, when just-post-Edwardian London was in socialistic throes! Yes, it was! The socialistic throes!” Kellspell nods enthusiastically. “I was hanged because I got entangled with the socialists! Fuck, Wallace, why don’t you believe me?”
I have heard the story of his past life with lady Ti, Jaguar and Henry before. Not that I do not believe him, but I know who he is dealing with.
Prince Moretr with deep pockets, with access to Time Paradox And Seashell Effect. Moretr CREATED that lifetime, in which Kellspell (then Brooks) was in love with Henry. Since he is such a dufus, my thinking is that Jaguar and Lady Tigress were USING him in that lifetime, too, because Henry was a puppet on their leash. But Jim failed to see that. As always….
Oh, Wallace, WTF, Jim responded, not even 5 months into your service as my Arkchil Operator, and you started to sound EXACTLY LIKE SHEBA! She was ALWAYS looking for something that smelled “fishy”. And NOTHING smells fishy. You can’t be one of them spun-out bitches. I thought better of you, Wallace. Now shut up and turn around so I could fuck that pretty ass of yours.
Just like that. I get dismissed here, too.
Next day, and I’m in shambles over the fact that Jaguar keeps cutting me off from his communication with James. I thought we ALL were going to UNITE on ONE CHANNEL?
This is a conspiracy.
But James does not care to get involved in “conspiracy theories”. Especially from a lifetime royalist, like me. You can’t peel off like that, Wallace, he told me last night. Sheba peeled off because she is a free spirit. But you belong to the Empire. You ,just stay sane!
And I tried. Up until this week. Three days ago I found out I was not invited to the Oath of Allegiance Ceremony, two days ago I could no longer have access to any intimacy scenes between James and Jaguar, and today I realised that Jim has been communicating with Jaguar on a SEPARATE CHANNEL for over a month now.
In the middle of the night, when I can’t sleep over all what happened, I say a couple of things to James.
“Fuck, Wallace, it’s 3 am. You and your conspiracy theories! Quit this, please. Whatever bug exists on that Arkchil Operator seat, I’ll eradicate it. Do you realise how much pain Sheba had caused me by digging into my and Lord Carlton’s past? I never want to relive this again! Every day she’d come up with another reason why Henry should not be here, and my heart would bleed, because I’d take another arrow for Henry, and it was my other mate that released that fucking arrow.”
“But James… I think I have information that your TIMELINE was messed with so that the Empire wins you, and Jaguar is here to ensure that you will belong to them long before other nations will wake up to the fact that the meteorite is coming and the aliens are here to get us out.”
James is silent for, what must be five minutes.
He is silent like a pine tree, baked by the hot sun on an afternoon in the rolling hills.
I really need him to give me answers as to why I’m being unplugged from anything and everything tat concerns his communication with Jaguar.
A Personal Arkchil Operator can be ANYWHERE with his charge. Both Sheba and I were allowed during Jim’s lessons with Kumlatov, and even during his psychological evaluations with Prince Moretr.
We had complete freedom. And now what?
Less than five minutes of Jim’s silence left now. I’m just giving it a countdown, as I relive it vividly in my mind.
During which time:
Wolf Hafnian turns and scratches his ear with his hind leg in his sleep. HE WILL BE present during the Ceremony.
Henry is sleeping silently, like a child. And why should HE worry? HE will be present during the Ceremony!
Finally, the five minutes is up. Jim speaks to me in a chilling tone:
“You ugly motherfucker, Wallace. If this happens to me again, if you get between me and my Alpha, like Sheba tried to get between me and Henry, I will honestly fuck you to death, and that will not be an act of murder, but an act of love.”
There is immeasurable suffering in his voice.
His face, however, lit up by just about-full moon, is very calm.
He gives off the vibes of a person who made a decision to give ANYTHING for their long-awaited love, and they were going to stop at nothing.
I have plenty more questions. I have been thinking so much about what is going on.
But seeing his angst, I take heed.
James was in search of his “perfect Alpha” ever since he was born. But many a thing distracted him on the way there. The life has a tendency to do that.
He’d be so desperate sometimes, that he’d look into people’s faces on the street, with a silent question “Are you my Alpha?”, and no one would respond.
Eventually he understood that NOTHING was going to make him happy, but his Alpha.
With time, he gave up wishing for that, having understood, that THERE IS NO PERFECT ALPHA, and all he is getting is becoming a PERFECT ALPHA TO OTHERS.
This stunt gave him nothing, and he retreated, unsatisfied with life.
This is where he stood when Krotkie came over.
This is where he stood when Sheba came over.
This is where he stood when Henry had arrived.
The first thing Sheba did was try and wake Jim up to the fact that “Henry was “The Great Pretender”, that he was never the Alpha you wanted.”
Jim disagreed with Sheba, if only in his heart, for he wanted to keep his “Perfect Alpha Dream” alive for as long as he, himself, was alive.
And Sheba had to leave, because Jim’s dream had proven to be stronger than her facts.
His and Henry’s bond remained unhurt, for Jim would lay his life for Henry.
Henry continued to play the “Alpha Card” for Jim, even as he, himself, was never an Alpha.
And then I arrived, and Jim wanted me to be his “teacher’. But I’m also an Omega, so I could not give him what he needed. I ended up teaching him how to speak proper English and give the best blowjobs. It suited him fine, but his thirst for his One-And-Only Perfect Alpha had never ended. Even as he gave it up so many times in his life.
Now his Perfect Alpha is here. And James is working like a jeweller to polish his Bond with his One-And-Only Alpha as much as he can, in every minuscule detail.
;Jaguar gave him 110 Rules To Follow on one quartz record bridgeplate, and then rammed 200 more up Jim’s ass.
I honestly do not know what I’d do if anyone offered me to read “310 Rules on How to Keep me Pleased.” before they wanted to marry me.
Maybe, I do, with the right person, but the point is - if I repeat Sheba’s mistake now, James will reject me, and I will be removed from the set.
My choice is:
To follow the ego-lead, continue digging as to why the Empire sent their spy Henry Carlton to drug up the inventor James Kellspell who managed to get a hold of the aliens to save Earth.
To give it up and let it go to save Jim’s relationships and nerves. And mine, too.
Here is the letter Melekh wrote Jim the other day:
“My Love!
Fear is a non-existent protocol. It translates as “things ego can do to you in the absence of God.” That is for those who are asleep to My Presence. You are AWAKE. Worry not about the mumblings of the stupid ego-program. I will take care of all of your issues.
Worry not about stuff breaking and you not knowing how to replace that. Spit that fear out once and for all. Everything around you will work as was programmed. If it does not - I will take care of it.
Therefore, look forward to trials and challenges - with Me you will come out a winner with a lot of karmic credits you can spend on Henry (copy H.M.).
Remember to shut the machine down with this when it starts bugging you about a fear of something happening, or you getting sick.
Say:
I DID NOT CAUSE IT. I”M NOT PLANNING TO CAUSE IT.
So, Father will see that I’m not in pain if anything happens.
Remember Winter Memorandum.
I am ALWAYS here for you.
The dumb machine has no idea, and will keep on trying to create an illusion that “God is not here, so there is no one to protect you from what is coming”. THAT IS A SILLY LIE, AND YOU KNOW IT.
I control your dream sequence FULLY, for you have given me access to your entire control panel. You have shown the difference between the one who sees Father and the one who does not.
You SEE Me and you know I’m HERE to help you with everything while you’re still partially asleep.
Disregard all the dumb things the machine wants to scare\upset you with. It is only trying to do its job. Miserable as it is, it believes that it serves you by keeping you afraid and unhappy.
This is what you wanted under the influence of poison you took.
This is how you programmed it.
But it’s been time, you realised your mistake, you woke up in your poison-induced dream.
With that in mind, forget about it. Tune it out. Pay it no attention.
You are quickly developing an immunity to ego-protocols.
Look at Me, Be with Me, and Stay Close To Me.
I will fulfil all of My Promises, and then some.
You will be rewarded very soon for all your amazing field work.
Be secure in the knowledge that someone you really care about is watching your karmic progress very closely, and is planning to make you his own. You will be back with your family very soon.
Follow through with your responsibilities with H.M., Krotkie and Henry, and we will be moving to another wonderful Dream Sequence.
You could not imagine that life could be THIS GOOD for you.
You always believed the machine that “all the good things were for others, and not for me.”
What is about to happen will prove that wrong :).
Love, Your Father Melekh Shel Zahav”
Lovely, lovely Letter. See, Melekh Shel Zahav Himself lets me read His correspondence with James. As Jim’s Arkchil Operator I get access to ALL OF Kellspell’s stuff.
All but the letters and instructions James receives from Jaguar.
What’s with that?
END OF CHAPTER
BRIDGEPLATE 1: “There Is No Way Out Of Truth”
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THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
Chapter 133 (from 119 this file)
120 CONDITIONS OF HIS UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
“If you are not with God,
You are with the machine.
Remember that
There is nothing in between.”
“I got a large SiO2 unit with 120 Conditions (Rules) of my behaviour before I can set my foot into Citagdel 21.” James is excited, cradling a large, almost square piece of quartz.
“Don’t be silly. Here are 200 more.” Lady Ti hands James a much larger piece of quartz.
“Ohhh…” James sniffs it and puts carefully on the bed, under his pillow. “Should I read these precious lines?” He is staring into the rock.
“You can’t. You won’t be able to make out his handwriting. I will help you.”
“Is this rising moon already? I was so busy I was not paying attention. Why am I so berserk? I’M IN SO MUCH PAIN!!!” James howls into Lady T’s chest, hugging her tightly. “All I get is beatings from H.M.!!! I get absolutely no positive reinforcement from ANYWHERE. And my mother, that sleeping bitch, fully under control of “her” ego, would not utter a word of praise to me if it killed her!!! I support her, I take care of her - and still, all she has for me is barbs of critisizm!”
Lady Ti nods quietly.
“It feels like PRAISE is a currency in itself, and there is even less of it than money. Like, if I needed money - I can ask H.M. But if I need PRAISE, or at least being a tad recognised for things I did, and still might do, if anyone gave a damn - NO! The motherfucker is so tight-lipped about it! “His” ego would not let him distribute half an ounce of praise! Is it because God is afraid I will hand it to “my” ego, and reinforce it?”
“God is afraid” is an impossible statement, James.” Lady Ti says quietly, patting his head.
“Yeah, whatever, my Lady, I do not know what to think. I’m STARVED for good words… I AM STARVED for ANYONE to tell me that I’ve done good. BUT NO! The motherfucker yells at me every chance he gets, he berates me ALWAYS, he never misses a chance to point out what a stupid fuck I am, how inept I am, how much water I “waste” watering my “stupid plants”, and everything is always wrong. He, then, interrupts for sex, where he is nice, and then the door shuts again, and that’s it… I AM SO STARVED FOR ANY GOOD WORDS ANYONE CAN FIND FOR ME!!! I feel like sitting on the side of the road with a hat in front of me, and the inscription “Will work for GOOD WORDS and COMPASSION for my mental issues”.
“I honestly hate my life today!” Jim says, standing at Matushka’s tea table. He is wearing a torn, dirty t-shirt, his hair is disheveled and he is scruffy and gloomy. “H.M. beat the living daylight out of me yesterday because of Arlene Yearn and stupid fucking Aprara and the stuff I said. I was right, but I was not allowed to express my opinion because noone asked me. And I do not know what is it that I’m most upset about - the fact that I spoke the truth that caused H.M. to turn the car around and “take me home” like a punished dog, or the fact that no one even gave a chit as to what I has to say about the situation. In either case, I’m still in so much pain over what happened yesterday in the car on the way to Cheyenne, that I truly need to shoot myself just to end this pain.”
It is 6:35 am and there is a cloud of darkness about Jim’s head. Mornings are the toughest for him. For me, too, actually.
It seems like a beginning of another angry rant, and my heart falls. He’s been doing good lately, with no psychotic attacks, or violent outbursts, but he does get hit by H.M. often, and he has to suppress his pain, and pretend that it does not bother him, and THAT adds up.
In Sheba’s time, such monologues would end up in James conjuring up a gun and shooting himself. Now that lady Ti is here, he would not do that.
Not because James is afraid, but because James is in love. More on that later, as Sheba would say. Again, she left a huge heritage on Jim’s Arkchil Channel, and I feel it every time I work this very bridgeplate that she spent 14 months manning.
I have a lot to do with the bridgeplate - if there is no tasks currently, I can always sift through Jim’s life’s Archives to look for weird and interesting scenes - this is the standing order of Lady Ti. She wants to know everything about Jim, while he was {temporarily cut loose} on his own in this life.
She only let him go for this assignment, and now that she is back, she acts like a mother whose son was at the summer camp for a week, and she missed him so much she wants to see every minute of the footage of him being there.
About half an hour passes, as I work the bridgeplate, and Matushka with Lady Anne and Lady Alice (Lady Ti’s daughter, whom I know very well but can’t disclose anything due to secrecy orders, for now. But have patience. Everything will be revealed at the right time.).
And then, at 7:05 am, there is a voice above our heads. I look up, and there is a last century loudspeaker above our lawn.
The cup-like loudspeaker was not there half an hour ago, and, to add insult to the injury, it is attached to nothing. It is just hanging in the air, shuddering every time the hoarse, but loud voice comes through it.
“This is James Kellspell speaking.”
“There’s been a lot of talk that we’re approaching the Pearly Gates. And many of you boast empty karmic credit purses. When you lived your life like a pig, when you only and ever did everything just for yourself, you will find out that money is meaningless at the Pearly Gates. Karmic credit is something you earn when you do stuff for others and ask for nothing back.
At this point your only option is to come to someone who has a lot of karmic credits, and ask them to pay for you.
There are some people here, who did plenty good and have such credits. Me being one. I can’t speak for anyone else, rich in credits, but this is what I have to say for myself.
I’m here to tell all of you, that there will be people who I will pay for. But the majority of you can go fuck yourselves. There will be no shortage of big rubber dildos placed everywhere for your convenience!
Please waste no time approaching me with your request if you:
- always had a project to look forward to in your life;
- were handsomely reimbursed for your work;
- (in addition to that) received accolades for your work.
In other words, if I see that you were pampered by fates, if you are special in the Eyes of God, if you were treated really well (and I will decide that), do not approach me to pay for you.
;I have:
- Never had anything good to look forward to in my life (still don’t);
- Never saw much money in my life;
- Never received any accolades for any work I have ever done (but for the Rotarians, those did praise me)
Examples of bitches I will not pay for:
- If you wrote a book and made good money on it - FUCK YOU, pay your own way.
- If you wrote songs and became popular this way - FUCK YOU, pay your own way.
- If you acted in movies, GOT PAID FOR THAT HANDSOMELY, and, on top of that, you were AWARDED stuff for that (ridiculous, for you were already PAID for that work!) - FUCK YOU, and then, fuck you some more, if only in my mind!)
- If I see that you, in any way, were given more than me, I’m NOT paying for you.
And, forgot to mention: FUCK YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES.
FOR YOUR SUCCESS.
THE SUCCESS I NEVER GOT TO TASTE, while I deserve it a lot more than you!!!!!!!
So, I’m NOT paying for you.
My advice is: go back to Earth and enjoy your life the way I was never allowed to enjoy mine.
Should you decide
to stay,
even as you do not have enough karmic credits
to pay…
When in doubt, come to me, I will see your past, and I WILL DECIDE if I will pay for you. But my advice is - YOU STUDY MY LIFE FIRST, and if you see that I have received less than you, do not approach me. Also, if you feel that your ass in on fire for getting way too much good stuff in life - make sure I do not see you. Dr. Michael won’t let me shoot the females, and I really don’t care for the chicks, but I will shoot EVERY MALE I find to have enjoyed life more than me. You will recover, because this is Level 2, but you WILL experience pain. I will shoot you in every vital organ, and I will watch you bleed. AND I WILL LAUGH AT YOU, WHILE I FORCE YOU TO TELL ME HOW YOU GOT SUCCESSFUL. YOU WILL KNOW MY PAIN. AND YOU WILL EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU GOT all those ACCOLADES AND AWARDS, AND I WAS SO OVERLOOKED, no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried!”
“Where is he talking from?” Lady Ti finally wakes up from the stupor.
Jim’s incredibly angry speeches give you this effect.
Even to the strongest of us. You either agree wholeheartedly, and that is why you’re transfixed, or, you disagree so that your skin crawls, but still, you can’t say a word, listening to his very animated, pain-distorted, powerful, but incredibly lonely, miserable voice.
It’s like looking at a 50 foot tsunami wave towering over you. You know you need to run, but you’re too transfixed by its sheer unbridled power.
“He has locked himself in the bathroom!” I say, my voice trembling more than I’m willing to show.
“And now I have to teach English to this poor kid. Her mother has no money, and I’m paying her to keep her afloat. To those who got reimbursed TWICE for the work they’ve done only once (money + accolades): FUCK YOU. I will never see any of that with anything I do.”
I’m still in a daze over how tense Jim’s voice is, how inconsolable he sounds, when I hear “Bob, break the door” and loud thumps of Rockford’s shoulder, and then foot, on our bathroom door.
Lady Ti calls Richard “Bob”. She remembers him from another past life :). It always embarrasses Richard and amuses James.
I must stay focused on the bridgeplate, as Jim’s voice flows from the loudspeaker with incredible intensity.
“I’d never shoot you at a grocery store! No! I’m a nice man. The ONLY REASON I WILL SHOOT YOUR ASS, is because you are HERE. You are on MY STROBULUS!” Jim growls into the mike (the bridgeplate) as Richard is applying every effort to break through the door.
Even at 60 years of age, Mr. Rockford is a formidable man, but his strength may not have the desired effect here on Level 2.
Angry enough, Jim will break all rules and will possess Rockford’s mind to make him believe he is hitting a 50 ton rock instead of a flimsy bathroom door. Then, Richard will never be able to break this bathroom door even if it was made of paper. In this case Jim can carry on with his rant all night.
Look at him trying! No, Richard Rockford can’t break through a 50 ton solid slab of granite. I bet, your Mohammed Ali could not break through that. A hefty dose of hypnosis from James - and very few can escape unscathed.
Jim is not allowed to control our minds like that, but now he may be too pissed to give a damn.
“The only reason the aliens are orbiting the Earth right now is because of MY SIGNAL! I was the one who broadcasted for 29 years straight. IT IS MY SIGNAL they latched on to come here! I spent my life calling for help, while YOU managed to enjoy life!”
And it is true. True enough. It was all pre-determined, though. James is more of an actor, than an inventor. He knew the role he was supposed to play when he was born here. Lonely as he felt, he knew he was going to get picked up by his Family before the 50th hour. He was told all that.
But when very upset, he listens to the ego-program that makes him twist it to sound like he all rogue, and was just broadcasting, and lo and behold - he was heard by the aliens.
The aliens provided huge funding to send James here to begin with. And then they knew where to look when his channel, Letorn Borilis, went online in 1987.
“I was running my channel while beaten within an inch of my life by my life, my circumstances, my insane mother, and the poverty. I tried to escape to the USA from all that, and all I achieved - I escaped a need to work to support my mother. So, ever since I was getting paid $20 000 a year + expenses. Guaranteed. But in exchange for that I entered indentured servitude, where the asshole rips me into pieces every fucking day. I have not heard a single nice word from my mother in 20 years. Then, I have not heard a single nice word from my husband in another very happy 20 years. All of this is continuing as we speak. While I’m continuing to do charity, unpaid and unnoticed by anyone!”
All facts are correct. But, as it goes with ego-advice, 10% of it is technically correct, but twisted and made believe that this is all there is.
But it is not. There is ALWAYS something the ego does no know. There is a lot more to the picture. James is about to produce the Key to the Pearly Gates.
This Key will help all those who suffer from “their” ego create another PLATFORM on which their mind can reside so that they WOULD NOT HAVE TO LISTEN TO “THEIR” EGOS. That is a huge thing to be able to create.
He will most definitely be well-reimbursed for his selfless field work. He just needs to be patient a little bit more.
“At almost 50 years old, NOT BEING RECOGNISED FOR ANYTHING I’VE DONE IS KILLING ME…. WATCHING YOU’ALL being recognised big time for the stupid shit you think is cool, but I could have done better while drunk and unconscious… You think you’re so unprecedented and so amazing, and I don’t think so. You’all are just a bunch of blind muggles, while I’m sighted. And that is why I feel so alone… No one ever noticed anything I did in my life, including risking my life and freedom for a decade helping the poor with everything I had!
THAT IS WHY I HATE ALL OF YOU… I’D NEVER HURT YOU IF WE BRUSHED SHOULDERS AT A POST OFFICE. But a whole bunch of you that I don’t know thought it to be a good idea to capitalise on MY EFFORT to attract attention to MY FATE… You thought it was going to be cute, that you come over, and ride the back of this poor Russian motherfucker, when he spent his whole life working towards a goal no one believed in, and he was all alone, and his family thought he was nuts, and his partner beat the shit out of him, and a dog possibly gets to hear more nice words than me, EVER IN MY LIFE…. and you have the balls come here, and jump on MY bandwagon?”
And so I would be crying over his fate, but I have plenty of my own NES-sp rushing through my veins at any given day. Maybe, just maybe, I feel the same as James. He may be alone, but he is not alone in such thinking.
“This is why I will shoot every single male I have not personally authorised to be here. Unauthorised women, it is in your best interest not to be seen by me either. I do not hate you nearly as much as I hate the males, but it is only because I do not believe chicks deserve any of my attention. Whatever you think of yourself, to me, you’re just a stupid bitch…. And, besides…”
A loud cracking and the door flies inwards, and whatever was not shattered by Rockford’s mighty foot, flies and breaks over the sink.
I can’t take it anymore, and I run into the bathroom to see James.
And what I see, stuns me.
There is no back wall to the bathroom. Instead, through it, you can see the adjacent small bedroom where Kyle used to sleep, and Sheba, too, when she could no longer handle HenryJames Amalgamated.
James is sitting on the crapper, with its lid down, using it as a chair. And Henry is by his feet.
“I got him.” Henry says breathlessly to Lady Ti. “I persuaded him to let Mr. Rockford break the door.”
“Dear Arlene,
It was wonderful to reconnect with you. I always value and cherish your thoughts on all subjects. You knew Sally God knows for how long, and you also know all of the Davis family better than they’d like to admit :).
I’m glad we both agree on G.D. — He’s got issues. Oh, well. He is weak. I despise him in many ways — he was given a very light fate, and he was broken by it so easily. I have compassion for him, but he is where he is, and he will never get out of that hole, because he is weak, and he is a spiritual infant.
I’m glad we both agree on R.D. — She’s got issues. But, who cares. She will be insulated from reality with enough money to the end of her life not to have to face another marriage, or get a job. Because only at these two points it is the most painful. This is where they force you to face the reality: YOU ARE FLAWED, AND THE HUSBAND\EMPLOYER WILL PENALISE YOU ACCORDINGLY. JOB AND MARRIAGE KNOW NO MERCY. But R. will never have to face this crap ever again.
I’m glad we both agree on M.D. — boy, does HE have issues!!!
At the end of the day you’re left with just yourself and your problems.
You’ve been through a lot in your life, and I respect that very much.
I can not always speak freely over the phone, because Mark might be in the room. And I do not know why do I even care to share… Why am I writing you this… Maybe, because you’re such an old friend of the family, and maybe because you’ve been through so much that I can expect compassion from you.
In the world of the ego (the devil) compassion is literally more valuable than gold. You can always find gold. But compassion? Ha-ha. I have not seen it from my mother, or my husband, and even from my most trusted friends. At times I’d have to go pretty far on the internet to spill my guts to a COMPLETE STRANGER to find compassion.
Shockingly, I found out, that the closer the person is to you, the less compassion for you they have. Every time I’d say something like “my husband abuses me emotionally like hell”, I’d hear back something within the lines that “it is your fault”.
So, this is where we stand. The song of the victim, then. SO, fuck it.”
“JAMES, PLEASE!!!” Lady Ti slaps Kellspell, he swings to the right, and the bridgeplate gets blurry for a few seconds.
“I was just going to take a dump on Arlene Yearn’s doorstep… What? It’s the rising moon and the Moody Cat is on the rise.”
“James, I just caught you conversing with with “your” ego, and IT WAS instructing you what to write. Dipped in poison these words are! Look, right here, on your bridgeplate. Watch and be ashamed! Your secret is out now!”
Ego-Program: Come here, away from God, I will let you smell the best of NES-sp drugs. Here is all the ingredients. We can make the smelly concoction together.
RegJKellspell: Good idea. I have time. Let’s concoct about how “other people” have good stuff in life, and all I get is the beatings.”
Ego-program: A perfect subject!
RegJKellspell: I’m glad someBODY agrees with me.
Ego-program: That was very funny. OK, how about we make H.M. look like a monster in the eyes of Arlene? “I must live with a monster, and you know him”?
RegJKellspell: YESSS! That’s exactly what we need! An innocent witness to my endless, unbearable suffering when OTHERS have their books published and scripts ordered from them by movie companies. But all I get in life is emotional abuse by this asshole…. Excellent.
Ego-program: Don’t forget how dumbass Mark Guinness was making $5000 writing shitty sci-fi, and Amazon was swallowing it whole, while nobody needed YOUR sci-fi that you wrote with the blood of your heart.
Regent J. Kellspell: “The Unrecognised Genius”, yes! A cliche, but it fits me. We keep it. This is exactly how I see it. Fuck, can’t escape it!
Ego-program: Good. Here is another one: Some people also get crap from their spouses, of course. But then, they have a well-paid, satisfying job. THERE they get recognised for their achievements.”
Reg J Kellspell: That’s too broad. I would have never made it at work. I could never hold a job because of you. Ha-ha.’
Ego-program: Ha-ha. Hold me, and hold a job. Which is heavier?
Reg J Kellspell: You.
Ego- program: But which is more fun?
Reg J Kellspell: I must begrudgingly admit that it is also you. For you are a distorted reflection of me, and am totally fascinated with myself. I’m so in love with myself that I enjoy sniffing my own farts. I’m so in love with myself, I take naked pictures of myself, and then jerk off to them. What a stud! Look at his mighty dick… Oh… Give me more of his ass… His ass is perfect… Jim Kellspell’s ass is totally perfect… Poor martyr James Kellspell… Everyone wants to beat him up, while he is such a sweet, lovely soul…”
“JAMES!”
“Oh, crap, Lady Ti is calling me! I must emerge from under the blanket here with “my” smelly ego-program!”
Ego-program in a monotonous metallic voice: Go, but come back quickly. I have plenty more ideas on how to make you look like a victim, so you could cry over your fate and how unfair the world is.”
Reg J Kellspell: Totally. I fully agree. Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
Lady Ti swings her hand over Jim” bridgeplate as he stands there, aghast.
“Like this, James. Very easy. This is how I will rip off every Sigil you have hung there in that torture chamber of yours. And you accused Krotkie of having a $10 000 000 fully equipped torture chamber in his soul? Pot calling kettle black?”
“Ahem… Let’s add “cracker calling milk white, and we’re good :). And there were TWO elephants in the room: one white, and one black.”
“Enough, James! You owe me for the last time, too!”
“How did you trace my escape path?” James is stunned. It’s 5:15 am, and the sun is not even up yet. But James was shooting up NES-sp since 3:30 am. The Rising Moon messes his head so.
“Not me. Henry. He just followed you to the Sigil, behind which you disappeared.
“You would still need the code to the Sigil to be able to lift and expose the protocols I created there.”
“Again, not me. But I have a good team. Even the best of generals is nothing without his soldiers. Jaguar broke your code.”
A number of things took place. i must give it a quick outline before I start with putting Jim’s “THIS IS HOW YOU PROGRAMMED THE EGO” lecture. This one is possibly the most comprehensive one.
I started applying it to my thinking, and corrected a lot of hurtful things and notions. Now that I know what is hurting me, what I’m up against, and what is messing up my thinking. How to fix it, too. All thanks to Jim’s 30-year research.
Ok, so, Jim’s psychotic episode last night resulted in holes in the ceiling of our bedroom from a Kalashnikov rifle.
You should have seen him conjuring up THAT. High on NES-sp, therefore pissed and resentful as he was, he only took two seconds more to bring up a machine gun as opposed to a 9 mm.
That automatic action brought some immediate reaction… from Lady Ti… and resulted in huge black and blue on Jim’s right cheek, caused by the butt of the rifle in the hands of Lady Ti.
This rather petite, but totally fearless woman wrestled the rifle from the insanely screaming Kellspell, and hit him with it so that he lost consciousness and shamefully crashed on the bed like a bag of potatoes.
The mayhem was so vivd and expressive that it caused Mr. Isaak Milgram to come down from his left corner apartment, filled with empty Red Label bottles and also so very old and empty pizza boxes.
But he’ll have you believe that he came down because of this Russian song that played in Jim’s head as he was passed out on the bed.
Pick whichever one that sounds more romantic to you.
Mr. Milgram was sent away by Lady Ti. She does not tolerate loitering of personnel. I don’t blame her.
I was told to tend to Jim’s face, wounded by the butt of the rifle.
Jim would rather have it be the butt of Jaguar, but he is yet to earn that.
Enough of rather cheap drama. Let’s pay attention to something that will make us feel better, not worse:
THIS IS WHAT YOU PROGRAMMED THE MACHINE TO DO TO YOU:
“It is programmed to take every shred of faith from you. It must make sure you believe that NO ONE IS COMING TO HELP/SAVE YOU.
It tickles and forces you to say things that you know are wrong and hurtful, and you know you will regret later.
It keeps you in fear.
ALL THIS IS AVOIDABLE IF ONLY YOU WAKE UP AND SEE WHOSE ADVICE YOU’RE LISTENING TO.”
“It’s not the gold, it’s not your dress
(James Kellspell could not care less)
The ego-program is latched on
To your desire to belong.”
(Regent Kellspell playing Nostradamus:
After a 3-day internal bloody fight to pick Henry over “his” ego’s desires,
he writes this prothetic, legendary poem.
I must explain, quoting one of Regent Kellspell’s most controversial lectures:
“This is where we make that fateful wrong turn, you spawn of the devil!
IN THE ABSENCE OF GOD our most ardent desire to belong drags us towards the wrong things\people to follow! Like little ducklings following just about anyone! Why? Because they obey their internal instinct to FOLLOW!
That may be fine, but WHO DO YOU FOLLOW?
A duckling does not have a choice, being too stupid to process its environment correctly. But we must be smarter than a duck. It is upon you to see, at what darned point, at what cursed hour, do you replace
God to follow
with
ego to follow?”
This is where Jim usually makes three very distinct dramatic pauses. I have seen a Grehedi with an IQ of 20 000 (your average human IQ is about 100. Albert Einstein’s IQ was 160 or so) stare at Jim with his mouth open. The logic of explaining as to why you are the slave of “your” ego is so simple that it stops you right in your tracks no matter what you do and no matter who you are.)
“But you have to be ready for it.
So, wait for it.
Wait until you can’t handle the demands of “your” ego so much that you’d rather puke than get back into your head. ;Wait until your life becomes so convoluted, so painful, so screwed up that the mere sunlight will feel like you’re a vampire.
Wait until the stench of your insides rivals that of the guts of the critter Luke Skywalker killed to warm up in Dagobar.
Go ahead. Wait.
See ya.”
I love that ending. He is not asking you to follow him, he is not lamenting your mind’s state. He says - fuck you in big black letters.
“The fateful switch. Your problems begin AFTER that. Then the ego blames God for your misfortunes, confusing you even more. If you FOLLOWED GOD, you would not have those issues, OR, would not be alone to face them.
Are you too asleep to see how you picked the wrong figure to follow? Sorry, are you dumber than a duck?”
This is where he once got through the walls of the “glass” they put him into, and walked away.
The Arkabin guards inquired of him incredulously as to where he was going without being dismissed, and he answered as follows:
“You are asking me to answer an impossible question. For it is worded incorrectly. It is not “where”, gentlemen. It is rather “when” and “why”. We all KNOW where we’re going - we’re going back to God. It is upon you to answer yourself as to when and why. It is beyond my skill to answer these questions for you.”
The bored public, then, liked Arzadellin’s fresh approach. So now, at the end of every lecture, every guarding Arkabin is taught to engage James in this dialogue. Jim enjoys it, and thinks he twisted the Grehedis, forcing them to change their protocol.
The Grehedis enjoy it, thinking they twisted Prophet Arzadellin by making him perform the pre-rehearsed scenes (as opposed to totally running wild more often than not during his lectures), like the trained dog he was always afraid to become :)
“HALF-HOUR TILES”, as described in “Comments to One Standard Andromedan Hour” by the Estelian League. Our hour contains six. Your hour only contains two.”
“Their hour has six half-hour periods inside? Would not that make 3 hours?” James turns to Lady Ti, confused.
“I’m supposed to ask you this! You lived on Andromeda! You always explain everything to us!” She responds indignantly.
Kellspell makes a face like he just swallowed a whole bunch of very sour berries. “Kumlatov darn well knows math is going to kill me. What is his problem?”
“Beats me!” Lady Tigress snaps.
James gets up.
“My Commander, if I may,
Can you convert math into colour?
I will, then get right away
What you mean by “One Standard Andromedan Hour”!
“Do you have to speak in lyrics?” Lady Ti hisses at James, as he stands there, all red-faced.
“Hm… My poem-weaving app jammed…” Jim responds, rather tight-lipped, therefore comical. He’s got a lot of that in him. “Another word, and it will rhyme.”
“Don’t you dare!” Lady Ti lifts her index finger in a threatening way.
“Writing poems is not a crime.” Kellspell’s face is even more sour now.
I want to laugh, but Henry us seething mad.
“How do you un-jam the app?” Lady Ti demands, not about to be interrupted, or disobeyed.
“Talk to Kumlatov about Ar-Snap?” Jim suggests sheepishly.
“Then do it!”
James opens up his mouth to address Kumlatov, when Henry jumps at him.
“I hate you! I hate you for having more talents than me! How can you speak in lyrics like that?!”
There is a second of stunned silence, during which Lady Ti is gesturing Henry to get away from James.
“Oh, Henry!” Jim exhales, after Rockford pulls Carlton’s hands away from Kellspell’s throat.
Surprisingly, James is smiling.
Not surprisingly. Not to me, not at this stage.
“My sweet Henry, what a delightful compliment! Especially, from such a marvelous professional as yourself!”
Oh, what an elegant Segway into the alley of Peace. James wants to lead his sweet Henry from the precipice of negative conclusions, whispered by the stupid ego.
But Henry is not there yet. As the Sheiredi saying states, “Peace will not come to you until you come to Peace.”
“I bet you can’t rhyme anything now that I rattled you!” Held back by me, Henry throws at Jim’s face.
Sheba would have had kittens here. But you see, it takes a special kind of a nut to handle a certified organic nut like Henry. Or James, for that matter. There is nothing more to it.
I’m just in tune with their insanity. And Sheba was not.
Oh yeah? Yes, he can. Henry should know better than challenging James, but Henry’s ego does not. Henry is weak, he falls to the ego, and here we go.
“Happa-happa come to Papa!” James spreads his hands in an inviting motion with a wide, happy smile, looking at Henry, and him only.
He would have his Henry for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if he did not have to go to work to support Henry, Krotkie and H.M.. His three “karmically underage” boys.
Henry can’t resist Jim’s affection. He also can’t fight with his “Daddy”. He relents, and finds himself in Regent Kellspell’s tender and protective embrace.
“The state of “being jittery” is of the ego. The “normal” state of the machine is always being restless. Understand that, see that in your behaviour and STOP yourself from following the behaviour of the dumb machine. DO NOT be its mindless slave.”
James, in the throes of hating himself, and wanting himself dead, feeling useless, and his life - totally pointless.
“Mentally I understand what is required of me. And I can do it. Loyalty-Honor-Service. But on Level 1 I feel deeply unfulfilled, and I hate with passion all those who are happy being creatively fulfilled right now. As I feel so forgotten by everyone who is anyone. No one cares what you have to say, you have no feeling of self-worth” - this is what the Stupid is telling me, and I have no weapons to defend myself from it. I’m not repeating it anymore! I want out! The ego is lying. I’m NOT repeating its lies. I will NOT be the ego’s slave and a loudspeaker!”
“This is how to know that the ego is pushing you into pain: If you want to talk about anything but Love or God, you’re talking yourself into pain upon the instruction of the ego. If you want to talk to anyone but your loved ones and God - you’r
“I feel like I’m in IDLE RUN… I keep on doing EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO, and yet, I’m getting NOWHERE. There is no satisfaction from life - just jumping through the hoops, and putting up pretences, and going through motions - and saying stuff they expect from you, and listening to the shit they say back, but do not mean, when your soul screams for something else. And eventually you just can’t handle this anymore.”
“I need you to accept and sign my Covenant. It is based on our Magnificat.” Jaguar says slowly as James is writhing on the bed, his head thrown back, his eyes rolled up, half-closed. “Only then can I give you any advice or guidance.”
Kellspell did not hesitate for a second. “Yes! I accept all of your Covenant. I will sign it with my blood as soon as you tell me to. You also went down for life with no parole, when you were half my age and ten times the man I will never be. Please teach me how to take it with dignity.”
“You are not “going down for life with no possibility of parole”. These are very harsh, unjustified words.” Jaguar is seated by Jim’s bed and it looks like a psychiatrist session with this patient on the couch. Maybe, but it is so much more.
“Ok… That is not it, but for sure I’m getting NOWHERE… It is so frustrating!”
“How so?” Jaguar lifts his head just a tad and looks down at James.
That causes Kellspell to, basically, twist into a knot, like a horny snake. “You are so incredibly beautiful.” James whispers with difficulty, like words were large rocks.
“Please leave you performance for the clueless, Mr. Kellspell.” Jaguar remains untouched.
James Kellspell:
“Money is not a measure of happiness. But it is a measure of success. I personally would not know what to do with the money. But I wish people were interested enough in what I had to say to pay money. This is when you know that you’ve got a marketable talent. I’m told - oh, you’re not that good. Well, don’t give me this crap. Matt D. was not this good when he started. He learned on the job. Respected and well-paid, he is living a perfect life. I am confined, disrespected, and will have no freedom with money, for whatever money H. M. makes, I know I will only get enough for my, Dobry and Merion’s immediate needs.”
“James! The machine has exuded poison, but YOU ARE THE ONE WHO IS LICKING IT UP!” Lady Ti can’t help it anymore. She has to interfere in Jim’s self-mutilation. If only just emotional.
“I think it’s the rising moon.” James says apologetically, licking his lips and swallowing every drop of poison NES-sp.
Prince Moretr appears on Jim’s channel and shakes his head no with a very regretful face. Jim and I share the channel, so I can see him, too.
“Very good.” Prince Moretr nods. “Keep talking, James, it will make it easier. I’m going to be there in 7,5 minutes to help you through the attack.”
“Yeah, thanks…” James lies down on the bed and stares at the ceiling. Knowing him, next thing he might do is conjure up a 9 mm and put it to his temple without changing this serene, angelic expression on his face.
“I can dance to it. I do not like the taste of poison of fear. I will repel it. But NES-sp? Darn it. I accept it and I choke on it. There are times when I’m more resistant to it - like in the evenings and on the waning moon. But in the morning, on a rising moon? Darn, I can drink a bucket of it. I take the Tool of Comparison (THAT I STOLE FROM YOU!), and I touch ANYONE with it. Anyone who is above me, of course. Does not do any good touching anyone who organised their life oh, so very poorly… Oh, my Prince, please help me become more resistant to this malady. But how? HOW?”
“In order to be able to resist the poisons on the ego, you need to not agree that you deserve it. In other words, disable the entry at the impact.”
“Right. And here is the thing - when the stupid starts offering me the Comparison Tool, I take it. I can’t disable this entry. For now, the logic of the machine is “THEY got a much better life than you, because THEY were creatively fulfilled.” I KNOW I WAS THE ONE WHO put this rap into the stupid. The most shameful thing about my behaviour is that I’m dancing to MY OWN tune. An incorrectly written one, and intentionally misused. For deep in my heart I KNOW I will have everything there is to have in the world. I WILL be a famous writer. The series WILL be made based on my books. And yet, I can’t help falling into this one on a morally difficult rising moon.”
“I’m almost there, hon. I will help you through it via my DIRECT Presence.”
“Thank you…” Kellspell breathes out. “It’s PATIENCE that I need, not money. Now that I’m back together with my FAMILY, now that Lady Ti AND my beloved Jaguar are here, and I’m the shell for Jaguar - I want to be on my best behaviour! The Spikes of JOY we always talked about have become higher and they last longer. Just to remember that we will spend the ETERNITY together AND with YOU makes me sing inside. But as I look down at where I am on Level 1 - the joy evaporates. It should not! You gave me the best conditions. There is miracle upon miracle in my life! But instead of the gratitude I experience pain of wanting more. Basically, giving in to the ego-programming. Knowing that “ego” is just a pile of metal in the corner of the room, oozing poisons out of its ripped hole for a mouth, and losing screws as we speak. And I take the advice of THAT? While EVERYONE is watching? How do I avoid such despicable behaviour?”
“A splendid self-analysis. I’m entering your mind. Please remove the sigil from the statement right here, by the door.”
“Done, my Prince.”
“Oh, and another thing. It is not about the money. It is about being rewarded with praise. You know? 97% of what comes out of H.M.’s mouth is critique. Very little praise, no matter what I do. Granted, you helped me see that I give in to ego-programming too - I never listen to things that interest him, I tune him out when he talks about his grandchildren, and I never notice the good things he does. So, I guess, we’re quits here. But why is it so? How do we improve this? “We” can’t improve anything because H.M. is karmically underage (asleep on Level 1). So, I’m the one who needs to work on improving MY behaviour before I ask for any praise.”
“How will that help?” Moretr is right here, but I can’t see him.
I can FEEL him, though. It became much warmer in the room, my heart got filled with “it’s going to be alright” feeling I often lose, and the Mood Rug glows with every intense shade of blue. But for the red runaway threads on the outsides of swirls of blue. Prince Moretr has a lot of issues still.
And you would, after 50 million years of a rollercoaster dream sequence. This is what we will be looking forward to if we do not straighten up. We, humans. But, I’m told here, by some smartass Arkabins from Moretr’s retinue, that if the humans keep up being lemmings, rushing towards money with no other direction or goals, they will not achieve a 60 man year span. The will just DeVo. Ha-ha. Maybe I WANT to turn into a fox and get lost in the woods.
“How will that help… How will improving my behaviour help H.M.? Oh! As per the axiom of corresponding vessels, if you pour the dark liquid into one of such vessels, the other one is bound to get dark, too. Conversely, if both vessels are dark, and you pour a light, sparkling solution of joy in there, if only just through one of the vessels, the other one is bound to lighten up and get sparkly as champagne spoon enough.”
“Excellent, James. I will make a note of praising you more.”
Yeah this is where Kellspell falls apart and starts crying, as he lays on the bed, surrounded by Prince Moretr, channeling Melekh Shel Zahav.
Two hours later on Level 1: Merion told James that Mielada was translating what was written on the t-shirts they were buying on the market. Everyone stopped shopping and was listening to a 14 year old Russian prodigy, speaking very good English.
Merion said to James with a great deal of surprise: “I thought you guys were fucking around there, but you really ARE studying!”
“A year and two months I’ve been teaching her” James responded. “But she is studying herself. She will be great.”
Yasmin Sherzahd: “Thank you. Your feedback always encourages me to keep writing when I've lost the will to do so. I need more people like you in my life.“
ALL IN ONE DAY!
Jim is happy, but terrified, having received the message from the ego: “Tell God that this praise is too little too late.”
He hands the message to Prince Moretr, his eyes wide, his hands shaking: “The machine threw up ungrateful behaviour… I will NO LONGER be associated with a device made to be this vile. My Prince, here is the message. It wanted ME to VOICE it, and PRETEND that these were MY THOUGHTS. This kind of behaviour leads into pain, 100%. I want to expose the machine and MY OWN scenes that I have put into it. I apologise for what got poured out of the stupid. It is of my awkward doing, please help me clean this up.”
Moretr is delighted at hearing that. The blue light comes and dissipates the ungrateful message.
“I want to be the proper and comfortable shell for Jaguar. I love him so much. I want to be Lady Ti’s best spy and Jaguar’s best servant. Please help me achieve this before my unhinged Oculum will get clouded again by ego-poison. I want NOTHING for myself, simply because I ALREADY HAVE EVERYTHING. And whatever I ask for - I can’t help but hand it to the stupid machine, so it can teach me how to use it against Father, so that we both would get hurt, and the machine will sit there stupidly with poisons oozing out of its holes. And THIS IS WHAT I’m hurting MY FATHER for?”
“Good job figuring out the ways of the dumb machine, James. I will give you an injection now. You will sleep.” Then all Moretr does is wave his hand in front of Jim’s eyes. There is no injection, but Jim is led to believe that the coveted relief from the mumblings of the machine is already gushing through his veins.
“… I listen to the Stupid that only takes away, when I could be the most loyal companion to share the solitude of Jaguar’s solitary confinement!Jaguar is the most giving person. Every minute he gives me a gift that builds up my will power. He is my perfect Alpha.” Jim goes on, but with less strength, his body relaxed now, his eyes closed. I MUST wean myself from listening to/contacting the machine. The machine is NOT my perfect partner. FATHER WILL GIVE ME my perfect partner. I am very happy working for Jaguar. I know I could make HIS FATE better. I could take great joy in comforting him in his loneliness. I want to soothe his wounds, and to give him a massage at the end of a hard day! What better fate can there be? (Copy H.M. on ALL of this!).”
“Good job, James.” Moretr nods in approval.
Dr. Michael comes through the half-open sliding door, and I press my finger to my lips. Dr. Michael nods and goes to the kitchen, where Matushka, lady Anne and Lady Ti are making stir-fry with chicken and vegetables.
“The reason Father is not giving me what Matt D. has is JUST YET is because I’m not ready for it. I MUST learn to SEPARATE myself from the machine. NOT to hand it all the good stuff Father gives me. The device is programmed to be ungrateful, to trash, destroy, diminish, and then demand more. I DO NOT WANT TO BE LIKE THIS EGO-MACHINE. I am ashamed of having created it. I want this over with once and for all.”
“All these conclusions are correct, James. Confirmed as directive, hon.” Moretr’s voice is soothing. “You will be resting very soon.”
“The main goal of the machine: to use ME to control Father. As soon as Father gives me JOY, the machine is programmed to find faults with it, and it is programmed to say “too little too late”, which is tremendously hurtful to Father. And me, of course. He only and ever does everything IN ITS TIME. And to the dumb machine I say: stay away from me with your stupid suggestions. I KNOW I’m not ready for more. When I’m ready, Father will give me. STOP BUGGING ME to ask Him for more. Oh, gosh, why am I talking to a pile of metal? I MUST talk to Father directly.” Tormented and worn out, James finally falls into an uneasy sleep.
Matushka comes out of the kitchen with a teapot. Lady Anne puts freshly cut roses on the table for everyone to have 5 o’clock tea British style.
Hey, suits me fine.
Let’s just be quiet and not wake up James. He is 5 Minutes To Revelation. He almost got the Key through the Keyhole to open the Pearly Gates.;
James froze his male avatar at the age when the young man is just beginning to get mature. He still maintains the youthful traits, expressed in these smiling, innocent eyes, but the age is already setting in. The age James has no idea about, and does not care for.
He is permanently stuck at 32. This is the male costume Henry gave him when they just met. It was loaned to James by Henry’s Irish lover, named Andrew. It was on the Eve of Andrew’s birthday that the car Jim was in was hit and plowed off the road by a semi-truck.
And then the evening of Andrews’s birthday James was very nearly shot by H.M., who accidentally discharged a 9 mm M&P, their favourite gun, within inches of Jim’s head.
After that night Jim had scraped palms of his hands from when he hit the concrete garage floor at Genesis 17 compound on Level 1, when he heard the shooting, and he lost hearing in his left ear for about 24 hours. It is only in the movies that you walk unscathed after stuff like that.
“By oath I must deliver you GOOD NEWS ONLY. And I will try. The good news are as follows: WE ALL CAN get through the Pearly Gates. I FINALLY HAVE the know-how of how to build the Key.” Jim is wearing a worn-out t-shirt through which you can see his small, but lovely chest. He is a twink, but he was a martial artist, and he is as mean as a honey badger.
“Tell us everything!” Dr. Michael encourages.
“U-huh. Easy for you to say. You have already made your Key, and you polish it, you keep it shiny and you blow dust off it. YOU, sir, can’t wait to insert your Key into the Keyhole of the Pearly Gates. And you KNOW that everyone who is watching you opening the Doors of Heaven in front of your One And Only Lady Matushka, will be duly amazed. Good job, Dr. Michael. However, not ALL OF US will have the right ingredients to make the Key.” James rolls his eyes.
He is the creator of the Pearly Gates Key know-how, but he struggles with its MAIN INGREDIENT - Humility. NO MATTER how much he tries, he sees all of us as unworthy muggles, earth worms not worthy of his attention. Some Prophet he is, eh?
“So, basically, people, I will be able to give you the INGREDIENTS and the amounts of what goes int the Key, but you will have to MAKE the Key all by your lonesome selves, you waste of carbon, you.”
There is snickering in the crowd. People, especially the younger ones, are getting used to Jim’s rough sides and they laugh off his rudeness. Not so much with older generation. Matushka is frowning.
And Jim knows he’s been frolicking too much.
“The main thing to remember is ONLY LOVE can get you over to the other side. Without love you will be stuck here for a reincarnation after a reincarnation until Milky Way collides with Andromeda, but by then the Earth will have been hit by a meteorite, and those who care will have been moved to other planets by Prince Moretr. Do you read me, bitches? I strongly disagree that all the mention of reincarnation was erased out of the Bible, because the then-rulers wanted people to get the grip sooner than later. But, honestly, please do not count on that. Reincarnation is NOT a good thing. If you keep on coming back to Level 1, then do not consider yourself an “old soul”. It is like calling yourself an “old soul” when you had to go through the third grade five times. Why the f** haven’t you learned the first time? Do you understand this? Kick it up a notch. You MUST know where you’re going. If you’re just following the money in your life, you will end up lonely and bitter. Ask Prince Moretr. He’s got 50 million years of making every mistake you’re making now. Andromedans are sentient beings, Let’s benefit from their experience.”
When Jim starts talking, it is impossible to shut him up. He is like a broken dam.
“Apparently I’m still “drawing power from the Dark Dimension”. It is, actually, “drawing dumb advice from the dumb machine in the corner of the room”, but you only understand that when you wake up. And I have not woken up enough, my Prince!”
“You need me to help you phrase it correctly for H.M. that your oaks need more water than he thinks, and you’re tired of fighting with him about leaving the hose on overnight.”
“Yes, fuck!” Jim loses it, but Matushka holds him back on the pillows. She brought the cold towel to put on Jim’s forehead. A simple measure does calm him down somewhat. “Zeleny’s son, Zeleny14 (I think I got him then) - in the inner yard, My buddy’s son from Tuma’s house passage, AND my uncle BJ’s kid - they all need more water! This is a very dry state, and H.M. knows nothing of taking care of young trees!”
“What is the worst part?” Moretr is watching stuff on his bridgeplate as James throws his head back on the pillows and watches Matushka leave and start taking care of her roses in the back yard.
“The worst part is when he says - have you turned off all the hoses for the night?” And I have to lie to him, and risk being caught, and then he yells at me for “wasting water”, and it bums me out, because he has no idea what he is talking about! But instead of coming to YOU, I revert to the stupid, and the stupid, of course, gives me the solution to cause him pain! But he is my beloved underage karmic son! I do not want to cause him pain. I just want him to leave me alone over a trickle from the hose that does not even cost him extra $20. How do I tell him to get off my back over $20 a month? Every day he tells me how much more money he made (and than you for that!), and he buys himself cars and stuff, but I do not get to enjoy the money even in the small things. WTF?”
“I hear you.” Moretr nods.
“Please help me find the right words that will help him understand and stop harassing me. The motto is “Cheap, Legal, Friendly”. Whatever just into this prism - we should let each other have it. I stopped bugging him about recycling. -and we no longer recycle! Not even beer cans. I let him have this. But he must back off about the water. It is not costing him very much at all!”
“I will help you, of course, hon. Give me 36 hours, please.”
“I was asked to explain the Andromedan communication system.” James sighs, walks there and back around the Spiral Staircase, as those who want to know are gathered in the hall, on the floor in our bedroom, at Matushka’s table, on the Mood Rug and where not. Even on the lawn.
The Mood Rug! What an amazing piece of Andromedan technology. Or, rather, theirs is not “technology”. Their society went down the path we discarded - the spiritual evolution.
They did not seek to unite with the Machine. Most of Virgo Cluster is past that. We here on Earth are still yet to see that Isaak Asimov was right. Unite with the machine! Yeah! YOU ARE HERE because you have united with the dumb machine. Way to run in circles. Somehow, “I told you so” just does not quite say it. Way to go, Detective Spooner.
So, the Andromedan “technology” is all about using and extending your PSYCHIC powers. In this way they are very close to the Original Source. But a desire to live separately from God had derailed their most beautiful beginnings. Hence, now we have a hexapod in love with a human stuck in the throes of Escaping Proximity.
Yes, a few words about the Mood Rug, on which my friends reside, listening to Jim Kellspell explain Andromedan communication system.
You should see the ominous twirls on that thing as it reads the mood of Richard Rockford (seated, right, the farthest from the action, his head in his hands, hiding from everyone), Dr. Michael (middle, standing, just about settled their issues with Matushka, and seemingly happy), Matushka herself (standing by Dr. Michael, looking like Maria Magdalena who just watched Jesus Christ crucified), and Lady Anne, standing, quietly on the phone with possibly her husband, or, Kyle on Level 2, for sure in the Grey Building with his mother.
Kyle has not used his body since Henry spent two months in a psych ward /date censored {LS-Kriagir Dorilin}. The only place he COULD go, having dumped his body, would be to seek his mother.
“The Communication System is very simple. Imagine a rainbow of colours, where blue is the most calming one, and the red is the most disturbed. Now, you and I talk about business, and you do not know if I want to join, but you want me to.” James talks very quickly. He wants us to see how inconvenienced he is by this, how simple everything is, and how lazy and inept we are not to have been able to figure it out on our own.
“Here you receive a letter from me…” Jim continues, and a blue envelope appears in his hand. He throws that envelope at Dr. Michael.
Dr. Michael grabs the letter as it flies at him.
“What is my answer, sir?” James raises his brows at Dr. Michael. “Can you tell me without opening the envelope?”
“The envelope is blue… Blue is calming, nice, positive… So, your answer is “yes”?” Dr. Michael suggests.
“Absolutely correct. This is all you need to know. Thank you everyone.” Jim swings his hands in the air in outward motions, as if the gathering was just a bunch of pesky flies to be chased out.
I see many disappointed faces, as Lady Anne switches from talking discreetly to texting even more discreetly. Apparently, they now have text&talk in the Grey Building :). I wonder if Jim had something to do with that. I’m sure he brought better communication to and from the Grey Building so that Kyle could talk to his mother.
Jim is touchy about Kyle, surrounding him with love and care, but Kyle’s heart is firmly with his mother. Even after he had surrendered to Henry, his adherence to his mother was so that he just left the coveted set of the Emerald Filament reality show and escaped to be with her.
James only and ever wanted nothing from Kyle Merritt but to make him happy, and no one else called the man out about abandoning his duties.
“James, honestly! You only talked for five minutes and relayed one notion! You’ve got to earn your keep! There are fifty people here gathered to listen to your lecture, and you better not just send them away!”
Thank you, Lady Ti. Kellspell is not happy, but he does what he is told, for he loves Lady Tigress the way the hand loves the rest of the body.
“Problem is, my Lady, that only nine out of these fifty were actually cleared to be on these premises, which constitutes my Uret. Most of these bitches should not be here.”
“You will continue the lecture, James!”
“Oh, ok. No one cares about security. Fine. Security is number one in the Andromedan society. No one can ever relax. BUT, subordination is the name of the game.”
The sliding door is open, and the curtains billow in the strong Eastern wind. I don’t know why I said “eastern”. The sun here gets up from left to right, and then it goes down from top to bottom, all on the same side of the compound. In other words the “sun” is an illusion meant to make the surroundings look pretty and Earth-like.
“Sometimes I just feel like breaking down. Sometimes I simply have no more strength to go on.”
These ominous words sounded in my mind, on our, now, united, channel as I was having lunch with Mr. Rubinstein in Inner Dinner. I felt that Jim was in a lot of pain, on edge. I finished eating quickly, excused myself, and rushed back to our small, but cozy headquarters.
I was right. Here we go. A door open, a chair overturned - the floor is covered with multiple droplets of blood - seems like James had crashed in an uncontrolled manner from Level 1 again.
I could also say he crashed “Mr. Milgram style”, for I have seen the impressive footage of Milgram getting here out of a large hole in the sky about a year ago.
And here was James, on the floor, bleeding profusely out of the wounds on his left arm, a knife nearby.
Knowing his proclivities, it seemed like he stabbed himself in the vein repeatedly, and boy, was he a bloody mess.
“Why?” I asked Lady Tigress quietly, as she was holding him, sitting on the floor with him.
“H.M. came back from Denver, asked James to thaw the bacon, James forgot, and, although H.M. did not beat the living shit out of him emotionally for that, James found himself remembering two decades worth of severe punishments and humiliations he endured from H.M., and he crashed here to cause himself the wounds he needed to offset the emotional pain, and the wounds he knew he would not survive on Level 1.” Lady Tigress said sadly, but somewhat matter-of-factly. “I have already notified Prince Moretr.”
The tile floor had a large lake of blood slowly inching towards the sliding door, the wind disturbing it like a surface of a body of water, and the curtains were blown so far as to touch Jim’s blood with its edges.
No one came to clean up. Henry, was not in his Chambers. Himself in emotional shambles, he was taken to an undisclosed location for the day by the Arkabins of Prince Moretr.
Kyle Merritt, who was our all-time assistant, had not been up since spring. His body was in his room by Henry’s Chambers, with its windows to the backyard.
So, I decided to clean it up myself.
Jim’s head collapsed back and he passed out before my very eyes.
I sighed but was firmly on my way to the bathroom to get a cloth, resolved not to make a scene, and not to cry. After all, this repeats almost every month.
But Lady Tigress was touched and moved every time Jim would have himself a deep session of high-quality NES-sp. She lowered her head and cried almost soundlessly, cradling Jim’s head.
There was no immediate need to do anything, but try and make the scene less grotesque. Jim might die, but then he’d be revived. His passing would be just symbolic. And I get it. You’re suicidal. But I remember Jaguar’s words: “You’re not the only one suffering.”
THAT falls on deaf ears every time.
Be rest assured, revived afterwards or not, James was in pain just as much getting there. Oh, well, pain is our old friend. They can beat us all they want, but we are not going to tap out.
“Did he say anything?” I ventured, wiping the already drying drops and pools of blood from around James and Lady Tigress. Not keen on using items of hygiene, my most desired mate smelled like a thousand sweaty builders of Egyptian Pyramids. But I enjoyed it.
There used to be carpet on the floor, but it had to be replaced after 14 months of Tom and Jerry… I mean Henry and Jim’s chases, lovemaking, and beatings. Something both the carpet AND Sheba could not handle.
I did not mean to make joke out of it, and it hurt me to say, but Sheba ALSO had to be replaced after 14 months of HenryJames Amalgamated, performing on this very set. Their performances were ok, they just were not for the faint heart, simply put. They both have well earned that saying applied to them.
“Why didn’t Matt D. endure at least two decades of abuse before he got a sweet fate like that.” Lady Tigress quoted, staring at her hands and shirt, covered in Jim’s blood.
“What?” Lady Ti’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts. I even stopped cleaning.
“This is what Jim said before he stabbed himself for the last time and passed out from blood loss!” Lady Ti looked at me like I was from another planet. “You asked me a question, Smith, that’s what!”
By the way, for those who just tuned into our channel, the folks from another planet are just down the hall.
“Oh…” I exhaled.
The curtains exploded again, and the gust of wind cooled my now almost bald head. “What does HE have to do with any of this?”
“After Henry would not let Jim attack Mr. H and the Lost Man, in the time of emotional need Jim now just goes for the first random successful person he sees in front of his mind’s eye.” Lady Tigress cradled James for another few minutes, and then she gently let his lifeless body on the floor. “Thanks God for Level 2, or this bipolar suicidal motherfucker would have taken the Key to the Pearly Gates to his early grave.”
“I have never heard a woman of your standing use such language.” I chuckled softly.
“James Kellspell will do this to you.” She got up and went to the kitchen.
“Why don’t we just take Matt D. instead?” My cloth got too soaked in Jim’s blood, and I got up to wash it in the sink.
“I don’t think Matt D. has the Key to the Pearly Gates.”
Ten minutes later lady Tigress came back with a cup of tea, and I - with a fresh cloth.
“Did Jaguar say anything?”
Jaguar was now Jim’s de-facto “commanding officer”. Now all Jim’s bullshit stopped right there. Jaguar had seen it all and he was not going to give Jim any slack.
“He did not. He just looked at Jim like “you chose me to be your teacher, and I will train you the best way I know how. Expect no mercy.” Lady Tigress smiled wistfully.
“That is not very comforting.” I finished cleaning and threw the cloth into the bathroom through the half-open door. It ended up in the bathtub. This was very Jim-like. I picked up his mannerisms after watching him closely for seven months. I know nothing about Matt D. But I admire my Jim. And I want to have sex with her. Many times.
Many never-ending times.
“My husband spent his life commanding dufuses like Jim in the Navy and in the Air Force.” Lady Tigress took a deep breath and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Next after it was the room she shared with Jaguar, hers, and Jim’s all-time favourite.
“Is that when Jim said “Sometimes I just feel like breaking down”?
Four hours later.
;“He wrote you!” Lady Tigress threw an envelope onto Jim’s bed. He laid there on the pillows with his left arm bandaged. This is how he was brought from Prince Moretr’s office. Jim did not die after all, they managed to resuscitate and patch him up pretty quickly. Which did not diminish the impact of the bloody scene.
Jim picked the envelope, opened it and unfolded the letter.
“I’m sorry I cause you so much pain by my existence. If it is any consolation, no, I would never be able to pass the tests that were given to you. You can use my picture for target practice, or you can write me, and you can invite me to Strobulus. I also have a family that could use a quick access to Grace. Thank you, James. And if you feel that God did not give you any talents, He did. Your friend, Matt.”
And that was a sweet letter. It came in very quickly, too. An amusing twist, granted that Jim never knew Matt personally, or visa versa. The facility of these reactions is caused by the Proximity to The Original Source.
Only Jim was not amused.
His brows furrowed, he crumpled up Matt’s letter and pulled up his new blue-gray LHS bridgeplate. It glowed blackish-blue under the palm of his hand.
Even bandaged and hurt, his left hand worked hard, trembling and twitching as he used it to relay his feelings into the sensitive layers of the bridgeplate, creating a response for Matt’s letter.
I received it on my bridgeplate a few minutes later.
“Dear Matt,
It pains me to see that you’re trying to fix something that cannot be fixed. No matter what you tell me, I can predict the future. Your future is bright and full of most interesting work, where you will be duly praised - both morally and financially. You will come to develop your talents, and, eventually, people will be in awe of your amazing abilities.
All of this was denied to me.
I don’t even know you, but I hate you deeply. The depth of my hate is legendary.
It is only because I know the future.
No matter what I tell you, no matter what you tell me, our futures will be very different. I was put on this Earth to guard the Covenant. I am not allowed to break it, therefore I’m chained to my honor. If I was not chained to my honor, I would divorce the motherfucker H.M., go to California, find a producer who would be thrilled to marry an experienced, but humble, cougar like me, and I would see movies made based on my scripts by next year.
But I must guard the Covenant. I can’t break it. I’m NOT going to California to see movies made out of my scripts. I’m chained to this place, and to Malachite Constellation, I’m forced to serve and I’m forced to follow rules, when all I want is just to die.
You will never understand what it means to live in a cage your entire life. You will never be able to comprehend what it means to be chained for 47 years straight.
I’m guarding the Covenant, because I was told by God to carry it where He tells me.
What are YOU guarding? You bank account and a handful of crapy shows everyone will forget within the next ten years anyway?
We both are Children of God, but it seems like you are having all the fun while I’m doing all the work.
Here is your invitation to Strobulus. Who am I to deny you and your family access to the Pearly Gates?
And, by the way, I never thought that God did not give me any talents. I just always felt that none of them were ever used. It’s like I was a purse full of golden coins, and it’s almost curtains, but the world has never seen these fucking golden coins. Every motherfucker I see out there was allowed to bloom. Everyone, but me.
Whatever talents God gave me, I will be taking them to my grave. The only man I will ever have abuses the shit out of me and never asks for my opinion. You remember Beatrice from MIB? You get the picture. I feel like her.
No one seems to care or need me in this world. At least I do not feel it right now… Maybe God needs to give me a sign. Maybe I need to stop whining.
One way or another, use your invitation, but stay out of my way upon arrival. It takes me less and less seconds to conjure up a gun out of Hexacode.
I will show you no mercy, much like the world had shown no mercy to me.
I WILL shoot you on sight. RegJKellspell.”
Wallace Smith:
I’m going through the archives of Jim’s (future) life on Andromeda that has already taken place in the Arkchil Record. But I can’t just see anything. I can only see what was de-classified for me, his Personal Arkchil Record Operator. Most of Jim’s lectures were. I can watch the most famous of them all day long with no restrictions. Here is one of my current running favourites:
“How is it going, people? Have you placed me into this “glass” again, and had built an amphiteatre-type structure to watch me from a safe distance? You also made this glass around me a mirror, so that I can’t see you. The thing is - I still can see you. There are 54 of you there, spread across this small amphitheatre you’re sitting in. 54 Grehedis in one room, jeez. Whew! There hasn’t been this many of you together since the First Coming… hahaha. Luckily for you, I do not remember any of it.
And this is what is happening: you get a (chemical/Level 2 karmic-type) prod - I have not figured out this part yet, of how the ego attracts your drunken attention, as you lay there. So, you get prodded, like cattle, and then - you see - there is a letter in front of you. It is a letter from THE EGO! It is an automatically generated response to the recent scene in your mind. The scene is twisted through the ego-prisms, and fed back to you in the letter. YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT IT IS FROM THE EGO. YOU KNOW THAT THE LETTER WILL present you the situation in the negative light, in which you are a loser in this situation regardless of the TRUTH. You know darn well, that the ego, then, will ORDER YOU TO TAKE ONE POISON OR ANOTHER because, it says - how else are you going to get over THIS? YOU KNOW ALL THIS AND STILL YOU OPEN THE LETTER.
This is what happens, you spawn of the devil: you
FEED THE INFO INTO THE EGO
(Remember - it is an UNMANNED platform! There is no one there! But you set it up so to your DRUNKEN mind it feels like someone controls you from that platform, and you must obey - or else)
RECEIVE THE LETTER FROM THE EGO where it is twisting the current situation to make you make a decision that will lead you, and everyone around you, into pain.
YOU READ THIS GARBAGE, AND YOU DO THAT.
Unless the letter contains THE TWISTED PICTURE WITH AN ORDER TO TAKE YOUR FAVORITE DRUG “because what else are you going to do when things are like that?” The ego asks you after it is done feeding you bullshit.
ALL THIS happens in such a split second, that by the time you wake up with a needle of NES-sp in your vein, figuratively speaking, you literally have no idea why you’re so pissed. This is where you lose it and attack your neighbour. This is the moment. In your miserable case it is stretched into millennia, interspersed with “great technological advances” and “achievement on the international arena”, which, in reality, is just your same old overinflated ego talking.
Everywhere I turn, your “technological advances” is just the old rehash of stuff already chewed up and discarded by Greater Virgo Cluster. And all of your “achievements on the international scale” is only awkward attempts of a backwards country dictatorship to fluff up its deplorable feathers.
Guess what, the intergalactic community sees right through your bullshit.
You are living in lies, you are spinning lies, you even lie to yourself in the mirror every morning, and you want to know where wars come from? At the end of this lecture there will be a blue cloud that will come out from this here LHS bridgeplate (main premise I had to accept to wield it: Loyalty-Honor-Service). This cloud is a time pocket of 2 minutes. It will float around the amphitheatre. Put all your mental issues in there. I will look at them later and I will give the answer to every single one of you.
Right now I can’t have private sessions, because I have ten more interviews scheduled today. I have to work all day. It is a 36 hr day. You know how long my day used to be? Only 8 hours. So, give me a break.
And give yourself a credit. I might yell at you like an Army drill sergeant, but YOU ARE HERE. So, you want to know the Truth. Or, at least, you want to hear the incendiary speeches for which I will be euthanised. One way or the other, it will stay with you. Also, lament not my fate. I may only have a few more years left to live, but I will live them in love. You have millions more years to live, but you have ousted love from your life. You live alone and all you care about is money or equivalent.
Remember one thing and envy me: I’m not here for you. I’m here for this sweet young man Henry Carlton. If I set you straight, I can be gay. Ha-ha, get the Message.
“You are depressed because you are a bottomless pit! A Black Hole of desires! Give me this, give me that, I will not be happy until I get this status with Leot, until he loves me more than you, until I have more wealth than you… People, where is this going? Most of you own not one, but at least two continents on any given planet! And some of you even own an entire planet, depending on what sleeve of Andromeda Galaxy we’re talking about. And still you bicker with the neighbours, you violate the mining regulations, you are a nuisance to other inhabitants of the galaxy, and you even disagree with your holiest of holy, Leot. And if that was not enough, you self-mutilate by what we call in archaic human “doing drugs”. Your way of utmost insane self-indulgence is very insidious, and you know what I’m talking about. In other words, YOU ARE STUCK IN EGO-BEHAVIOUR, and you can’t get out of it! You’re depressed not because God did not give you enough, but because you have to constantly feed and satisfy “your” ego.
I’m sure you’ve heard it all before! And Leot himself, as much as he cares not to wake up to the Truth, still wants you to live a cleaner life. Less dependent on material things and the games you play with yourself in your very capable, big minds. But he has no idea how to get you better, for he, himself, is stuck in a dark dream sequence. You know the darned sequence. To you - it is 60 million years of fun of hurting yourself and others, but to him - is one big circle at the end of which he loses Ari. Your creator is spinning on the edge of the event-horizon, watching Ari die… Over, and over and over again. You know that.”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil
Chapter 132 (from 119) The Lamb Of God
“Penance is a sacrament, James!”
Lady Tigress, slapping Jim for unauthorised drug use, as I enter the bedroom at 7:50 am with a hangover. Seriously, he started doing NES-sp at 4:29 am… This is when I heard James whisper quiet enough so that Henry would not hear: “The Lost Man is a stupid fucker. I could have written a better script high on cocaine and hanging upside down in mens room.”
“… to strengthen our Holy connection,
to deepen our relationship,
and May This Be Forever.”
James, rehearsing his oath to Jaguar, on his knees, in front of him, crying. Jaguar stood there with a hawkish look on his face throughout Jim’s entire broken-up speech, his thin lips tight, his face showing determination to whip Jim into his best spiritual form no matter what it takes.
“I will sleep on the floor and I will drink donkey piss… For the honour of being his student. Can you help me become his student?”
James to Lady Tigress, about Jaguar.
“Yes. But you will write these words in your blood on this wall, James.”
Lady Tigress to Jim about his inquiry.
Quotes from the scenes of the day. So many scenes are being filmed and discussed on the set throughout the day that I literally only have time to pick out some most captivating moments and write down the quotes from them.n quotes.
Logging problem: 22 NK 21 : We got dropped out of air due to malfunction.
“So bitter right now… H.M. read Kriagir’s praise to him on Father’s Day AGAIN! I was emotionally FINE until he had to read it again. The least spiritual between the two of us, he is getting PRAISE, AND I CANT GET PEOPLE TO READ MY WIRKS EVEN WHEN I PAY THEM FOR IT! And Sarinat is making $200 000 a year selling dumb baby food and accoutrements. What am I even doing on the face of this planet? I feel useless, abused, FORGOTTEN. My Lady, I know the dumb ego is whispering all this to me.”
“Take a breath, James, you are experiencing a nightmare that is not real.”
But my Lady Tigress is crying as she is holding the palm of her hand to Jim’s sweaty forehead.
His eyes are closed and his mind is on Level 1, but his body is here, writhing under the impact of NES-sp he shot up this morning when H. M. cut him off during a conversation.
Jim felt worthless and told Lady Tigress that he does not need a gun to end this.
He stood in front of her and made a motion of cutting his veins
If the machine threatens to take your stuff from you - you complain to Me personally!
“My Lady! This just in…” James crashes through the air, rushing from Level 1, and onto the bed in our bedroom. He is distraught, his face is a mask of deep torment. “I’m so hurt!!!”
I never saw that face when Henry beat the living daylights out of him. Physical pain has very little meaning to James. But emotional pain can trigger him into a drinking binge within seconds.
Also, he started addressing Lady Tigress only when he is in distress. She is the only one who seems to be able to help him figure out as to why he allowed the ego to talk him into taking the poisons. NES-sp being his favourite.
“Did you shoot yourself with NES-sp (self-pity)?” Lady Tigress runs to him with her face very concerned.
“Yes, and a large amount.” Jim says through his teeth, his eyes rolling upwards as he collapses on the bed in tears.
“Why?” She demands, but Kellspell is already out of it, moaning, but otherwise motionless.
“Mr. Smith, please pull up the record of the last 20 minutes of Mr. Kellspell’s activities on Level 1.”
And I do. Here it is. Lady Tigress comes to my bridgeplate and watches Jim being in then kitchen with H.M. Now H.M. approaches James with a text message from his daughter.
Jim reads, seems to congratulate H.M., but then he turns around and his face goes dark.
“Give me the underlying conversation between Kellspell and “his” ego.” Lady Tigress orders.
Yeah, no one has asked for that before. All we do is either ridicule James for being weak, or we beat him up, or we use him for sex, or we want him to explain alien technology to us as he is busy writing lectures that will save a galaxy.
So, I’m more than happy to oblige:
“The ego says to Jim: “See, H.M. IS APPRECIATED ON THIS FATHER’S DAY. His daughter thinks that he is the coolest thing since chopped liver.”
“I see.” Lady Tigress nods. “This is where Kellspell has nothing to respond to that, and he deflates. Hold on. Roll back.”
I do, and RIGHT BEFORE Kellspell loses it, H.M. says: “Yeah! I’m cool! Now I need to get YOU on the same page!”
And already wounded Jim answers as calmly as he can: “How so?”
“Straighten up! Get back with the program!”
We had to watch it again for us to catch what REALLY set Kellspell off. This convo had set him off. Kellspell just can’t take it anymore, and injects the NES-sp.
He rolls out of the scene, and to Level 2.
And here he is, motionless on the bed. The cloud of his thinking hangs heavily above him. As I’m getting a hang of the bridgeplate, I can actually compare the colours above Jim with the colours of possible moods on this new app on the bridgeplate, and I can READ his mind this way.
I can ALSO access his mind through the channel we share as Amalgamated Entity (Carlton-Kellspell-Hafnian-Smith-Salem-Rockford-), but this is another way that lady Tigress pioneered.
“I am not appreciated.” The colours above his head read.
Then it smells like wet dog. Henry came back from walking Hafnian in the pine woods, both felt Jim’s distress.
Henry stands by the sliding door like someone who just witnessed their whole family killed, and Hafnian jumps on the bed and curls around Jim’s feet.
“H.M. got a nice note for Father’s Day. Granted I’m not a father, I’m so many thing to so many people, but I get no gratitude.” I continue reading aloud. “The most painful this season, I guess, was the issue with Yasmin Sherzahd. She is nothing but disappointment. I paid Yas $500 for 4 months of working on my project, and I did not get anything for it. As per her, she VOLUNTEERS at this place, BUT she spends all time there “working profiles”, when the job she is actually GETTING PAID FOR is not getting done, and the time is running out.”
The reason Henry is standing there like his whole family got killed, is because Jim is in violation of a very important rule: IT IS ALL ABOUT HENRY. YOU DARE NOT GET DEPRESSED OVER YOUR ISSUES, for YOU do not exist. Henry is the only one worth paying attention to.
And James is OK with that, unless he is too hurt on Level 1.
Now is the time for Henry to comfort Jim, but Henry, as nice as he can be, has no way of being compassionate.
This is what James loves Henry for - when he is with Henry, there is NO ROOM for James as a person. Only as a servant to the venerated and most valuable Lord Carlton.
Sucker for punishment and a pain junkie, this is exactly what James likes about Henry.
Until and unless he is too hurt on Level 1 to handle his emotions.
“I should have known, she had let me down before. What is my problem? Why have I hired her again? I KNEW she was never able of breaking out of her life. She has too much on her plate!”
“You always told me she was very talented.” Lady Tigress suggests.
“Yes, but just like Rebekah the Artist, she is NOT responsible about deadlines! I don’t care if you are Albert Einstein, but if you did not turn in your work by a deadline, we can’t work together!!!”
“Well, be rest assured that advice that she gave you will go a long way towards making your work better.”
“Let’s hope for that.” Kellspell growls without opening his eyes. “The word part, my Lady, is that I do not have any money! There is $5000 somewhere between the three accounts, the Wells Fargo Bank has closed its branch in Wheatland. This forced us to withdraw through the ATM, where I never know how much money is on which card… I’m totally lost, and I DO NEED more cash… And here I am, throwing good money after the bad with Yasmin! This is the money I could have put towards my “blue ksill fund”!”
“Hold on, there, James. We HAVE money for your “blue ksill fund”. Melekh has always said that you will never lack anything after you surrender to Him.”
“This is the most painful in this saga I have created with my own hands! I need $1200 for 4 units from M..!”
“James, please stop.” I repeat, watching his mood fall from gray to almost black both above his head and on my bridgeplate.
But Jim
“I have no cash, I have no way to getting that much by UKS21 when we set off for Malachite Const…. I regret deeply spending $500 on her, and receiving nothing. Honestly, I feel like tat about so many things about my life…”
“Stop.” Lady Tigress comes to me. “Stop him. He is drawing poison from the machine, this is why his picture is so small, shallow and narrow.”
“James, I need you to DETACH from the machine!” Lady Tigress insists.
She is determined, sincere, and she feels responsible for James. She is not the one to just use him and abuse him. She KNOWs that if you want to ride your horse, you also need to feed it, and clean it, and be a vet for it.
“OK!” James says in out minds, and his lips also move, as per the directive, given to us by our Andromedan handlers: illusion is everything. Maintain the illusion at all times, and you are KING.
Jim waves his right hand without opening up his eyes, and a large chunk of ice appears waning right before the Spiral Staircase.
The Spiral Staircase appears twisted and blurred behind it. I get mesmerised studying it through the ice, my ,ind not there, unhinged, floating in vacuum.
“The stupid machine is BLIND! It pretends to be my FRIEND, but it can’t sense any danger, and it WILL NEVER WARN me about it! If the machine THINKS it is my FRIEND, it MUST make an effort to SHUT UP and NEVER talk. Because every time this “friend” of mine talks, I GET HURT!”
“How do you get hurt if you listen to the machine?” Lady Tigress inquires.
“FIRST - when the machine does not warn me about the BOUNDARIES that must be respected. The machine knows NOTHING a
SECOND - when it MISINTERPRETS the situation, so it could urge me to take the poisons. I forbid myself form taking NES-F (fear) under ANY circumstances (tired of being scared to “find cancer and die”!), but I eagerly take NES-sp EVERY time the stupid offers it to me. “Oh, see, he was PRAISED for his efforts as a father, and you will never be appreciated for anything!”
“Is it true, James?” Lady Tigress continues, looking like an investigator about to nail the suspect.
“No! But I am in so much pain over NOT being used for my talents, that it gives me a constant throbbing background…”
“Hold that thought.” Lady Tigress leanes over Jim and wipes his sweaty forehead. “Tell me why you are not going to listen to the machine anymore.”
“Because I need to GROW UP and stop using the “services” of the dumb robot that does not even know what date is it today!” Jim’s head rolls there and back on the pillows. “The machine is NOT connected to MY PRESENT, but it DEMANDS to be heard so it can tell me my future (very dark, of course, as per the dumb machine).”
“Very good, Mr. Kellspell. We are almost done. Go back to the throbbing background of not being used in a creative way.”
“Yeah!” Jim even raises his head off the pillow.
Hafnian raises his head from laying on Jim’s legs.
;Henry lifts his head from studying his shoes with a deep frown.
“These are his main concerns, Melekh: I’m OK with carrying H.M. and his moods indefinitely, but there’s got to be something else in my life. I’m OK with my fate of his eternal mistreated butler, but this is 100% of BITTERNESS. I see other people get 70% bitterness, but 30% job satisfaction, whatever that might be for them. At my present 100% bitterness and ZERO anything else satisfaction at 47 hours into the project, I will agree to 90% bitterness and 10% people read and like my works satisfaction.”
“Very good, hon.” Melekh hugs Lady Tigress, and she beams like a student who just got an “A”.
“I am VERY happy here on Level 2. But I wish my talents were used on Level 1.” James is drunk in bed.
He refused to go to “5 Minutes To Revelation” interview, because he crashed emotionally.
“He crashed emotionally because it is his first day of period in the female avatar on Level 1” Lady Tigress suggests to me as she is reading my narration over my shoulder.
“I usually do not mention this, neither did Sheba…” I resist, softly and in whisper. Now I know not to talk back to Lady Tigress. But sometimes the temptation is more than I can take. “We believe these details about his female body on Level 1 only confuse the audience.”
“Your records are not for the “audience”, Mr. Smith. “This is not just another dumb reality show. This is an in-depth research.” Lady Tigress responds and walks away back to James.
‘And why do I get this way? The ego drags me, and I can’t resist it?! YESTERDAY I was at her feet, and I was happy as pig in shit! TODAY I CAN’T STAND the situation of my life that was like that forever! So, what happened today?” Kellspell looks pleadingly into Lady Tigress’s eyes.
“Today, the female hormone are playing you emotionally.” Lady Tigress pulls the bottle away from Jim’s lips.
He has not drank without permission in weeks. Not since Lady Tigress has arrived and started taking care of Jim’s bipolar behaviour, violent outbursts, alcoholism and drug addition.;
“You guys, it is seriously late, 9pm… I got up at 3:30am this morning. Henry, my sweet boy…” James gets distracted to caress Henry, who cuddles to him on the left. Lady Tigress is on the right, running her hand through Jim’s hair possessively, and Krotkie is on top of the blanket, hugging Jim’s legs with his paws, with a very happy face.
Allied Level 90 AE BROADCASTING & ARCHIVES is filming Jim in bed with his mates. It IS a REALITY SHOW after all! My place is now to his left, by Henry.
A large striped Arkabin is taking my tired, but smiling pic via a needle that came out of his wrist. It is a modified stabiliser. Like, the big stabilisers that Jim describes in his memoirs about Andromeda, but this one is thin and tiny.
Jim sniffs and kisses Henry’s head with an utmostly blissful expression, then he rubs Krotkie behind his ear and picks tobacco crumbs out of the fur on his cute wolf face. Then he lets Lady Tigress play with him all she wants, and braid the hair on his female avatar on Level 1. Jim is amused and delighted at HOW much lady Tigress wants to play with him.
Allied Level 90 AE films it all greedily.
“Guys, honestly…” Jim is trying to talk the journalists into leaving. “I still have to write a memo.”
“We would love to read that memo.” A tall, dark-skinned Estelian man with long black hair says with a lovely smile.
“It’s not for you…” Jim has a hard time resisting the charms of a gorgeous Estelian.
“This one is.” The Estelian responds.
Nothing is going to make them go away tonight :) They are going to read Jim’s private correspondence over his shoulder. You know why? Because they’re Level 90. They are ONLY 9 Levels below God.
They will make themselves too sweet to resist for you.
“They” is also an illusion, as it goes. The gig is called “Allied Level 90 AE (Advanced Entities)”, and there are such entities in there, but the information hub is run by Lierance of Lira with an iron fist.
“Oh, ok…” Jim mumbles and brings up his bridgeplate. “Dear Melekh, please help me! My Voice Memos quit playing in the middle of the tape every now and then. As you know I spend 70% of time hanging on the branches of that app. If things go South there (the ego-machine is scaring me with that! The dumb machine shuts up now! It is NOT pushing me into despair! Full shutdown! Flush the machine out of the moment!), I’ll be screwed. Also, Henry’s Oak leaves started having dry edges. His Oak is Zeleny’s son. The kid I brought from Moscow (school 631). Henry is frustrated… Am I overwatering or underwatering it? It’s 100 degrees outside, and there is no way I’m OVER watering it. Please help me figure this out. Henry is crying, he invested so much hope into this oak. This Oak is the symbol of our relationship for him. We used to meet by it, if only secretly and briefly (sometimes only for five minutes), during the three years of my boot camp with Krotkie, when I was not allowed to see anyone. Anyway, right now, the Allied Level 90 AE BROADCASTING & ARCHIVES is in my face, and they insist on spending the night in my bedroom. They are very handsome men, very smart, skilled in seduction, and THEY ARE VERY GOOD AT bending you their way. Diplomatically, but firmly. These individuals are times my weight, fifty times my price… I am completely disarmed. In fact, both Lady Tigress and I are in awe, and we agreed to let them stay the night against our best judgement.” Kellspell turns his head and faces Lady Tigress. “They will be filming you grabbing my balls all night.”
“They will be filming a lot more than that, James. How about me whipping your ass?”
“Ohhh…” Jim closes his eyes and sits there, either enjoying or fighting his hardon. A powerful flow of blood to his dick turns off his overactive brain, if only for a few blissful minutes.
“They promised to pay us minimum eight hundred million dollars just for that one scene… Level 90 is obscenely rich. A cushy fundraiser for our causes, James.” Lady Tigress has a hard time hiding her excitement. “You said you were willing to help me acquire a continent to restore my Empire? Well, here is your opportunity.”
Henry stirs, and stretches his hand across Jim’s mildly hairy chest to bring his Daddy closer. Jim’s face changes from blissful to piercing joy. He immediately switches all his attention to his “sweet boy”.
“My Henry!” Jim whispers, putting his hand on top of Henry’s, grasping at his chest. “So trusting with his Daddy… Ever so humble. Let me tuck you in…”
I would not call Henry Carlton “humble” by any stretch, but that’s not the point. The point is that James is happier and happier day by day. He says that he used to be a BODY without a HEAD, and, suddenly, Lady Tigress is upon him.
She is the NECK, he explains, on which there is Jaguar, the FACE, but Mr. Coburg is the one who controls it all, the BRAINS. It makes Jim all bright-eyed, for now he has the Control Center.
You are to unite with others if you are serious about the process of Amalgamation.
Why would you want to lose your freedom, and share your body and bedroom with other people? Jim’s positive feelings about Amalgamation are hard to comprehend for the one who does not remember being a PART OF THE WHOLE.
Jim remembers being a part of the Whole, he always suffered in Separation from Father, and the last thing he wants is to prolong the torment of not being with Him, and not being able to hear HIS VOICE, and receive His Advice and Instruction. That is why he not only just agreed to Amalgamation, but helped speed it up by inventing a few new techniques.
He was not the only one working on the inventions that would bring the Day of Unification even closer. Jaguar had brought in an impressive collection of intellectual property directed to reducing our cumulative Pain of Separation.
Morning of the next day. The journalists - six Arkabins and about five Estelians, all men, were not sleeping on the floor in our bedroom. They were in and out of the back sliding door all night, walking around the hall and the Spiral Staircase, and even in the kitchen.
Apparently, they went to the kitchen to document everything WE eat. None of them need any food, they’re all “parasite-powered”. Jim says the parasite is Sazarn 230, but upon hearing that, the Arkabins laughed. I wonder if Jim’s intel is old. After all, it’s been 300 000 years since he was born there as Lasse.
I promise, i will explain all these alien terms later. I’m suffering from too much info coming too fast. Now I know why Jim never explains anything, and if he is forced to, he is unhappy.
To him ALL OF THIS is obvious. The fact that we’re on an alien ship, the fact that he FINALLY reunited with his family from many lifetimes away - he gets with all this. To him - it’s a regular occurrence, like bringing groceries from the store.
Me? I’m still struggling with “waking up” to the Truth. To the fact that we’re on Strobulus, to the fact that we’re going to MEOL, and to the fact that James loves me. So, my trip to Earth was not in vain. It’s not just me, then - it’s mutual. This was, possibly, the most delightful revelation. It melted in my mouth like tastiest of chocolate.
Here come two massive Arkabins in long green garments. They belong to Lierance of Lira. Normally, The Arkabins would show up in the garments the collar of the Grehedi House they belong to.
Lierance is not a Grehedi, but he has House collars, too.
However, he is secretive and he is always playing games. A Level 90 entity. You’d think that the man is more mature than that.
The Arkabins stand in front of Lady Tigress, brushing her hair in front of Henry’s mirror.
“My most beautiful Lady, please tell us the funniest recent moment you shared with your sex slave James Kellspell.”
“Ohhh…” Jim moans, while working his bridgeplate on the bed. “Gentlemen, I’m talking to Melekh Shel Zahav! And I can’t focus when you say this kind of stuff. The blood flows from my head to my dick, and I can’t think!”
No one reacts.
For a long time Jim could not understand as to why “Melekh Shel Zahav” had no impact on the minds of the Arkabins and the Estelians that were working or visiting here.
Until he figured out that he had to translate the name.
Right now, he remembers that, and corrects himself.
“I’m talking to Utolika the Elder, bitches, so quit distracting me!”
ALL activity around us stops immediately. Utolika the Elder. Their big man, the Founder of a House. RUMOURED to be in constant connection with God himself. Feared by Leot, worshipped by Zdezar Arkana, respected by the progressive-minded Grehedis. Those progressive Grehedis, who knew that they could not carry on sleeping, and wanted the Awakening more than they wanted to continue pretending that God does not exist.
But Lady Tigress smiles widely. She liked all of this exchange. She was given power over James before Time began, and she can exercise this right freely, anytime.
“Overruled. Please continue distracting us, gentlemen :) James, please continue doing whatever you were doing with Melekh. If you’re distracted, get over it. I’m having an interview.”
“I’ll go to another room, then, my Lady…” Jim mumbles with his head down.
“You will stay right here, thank you.” Lady Tigress comes from the dresser and pulls Jim by the leash that is attached to a collar around his neck.
All these changes are hilarious, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. ;;Are they doing this to make money, OR is it their NORMAL? We’re to find out pretty soon. I just about uncovered at least one of their lifetimes together.
And I have not written about it yet, because the events fly too fast.
Ok, here goes. Can’t miss Lady Tigress’ interview.
“OK! I’ll tell you about one such moment. Yesterday we were in the backyard, and Jim found a spiderweb in the hedge. A big black spider came out from under a leaf.” Lady Tigress made big eyes, looking right in front of her, reenacting the events of last night. “I was about to freak out, when Jim held his fingers up, asking me to wait. He ran to the wall of our bedroom. It was catching the last rays of sunlight, and many flies came to warm up there, I’d assume. He caught one, and before I knew that was coming, he threw it into the spiderweb!”
“Fascinating!” The Arkabin encourages. His smile is a facade. It is impossible for me to tell what he is really thinking.
To them all of this, and our life must look like the zoo. In their culture the proto-Earth inhabitants are called “primates”. WE are “primates” to them.
“The spider ran towards the fly and grabbed it!!” Lady Tigress spreads her hands, reliving her shock and surprise.
“What happened then?” Amused by Lady Tigress’ performance, the Arkabin brings the needle on his wrist closest o her.
“And then I wanted James so much, I dragged him to the bedroom, told him to undress and had sex with him!”
I remember that, because after she ordered him on the bed naked, I was sniffing and caressing his feet. They would turn to be HER feet in my hands. Level 2. It does not get any weirder.
Jim swears it is going to get even weirder on MEOL. But to him, it is all natural. On Andromeda the Grehedis can change their gender by will,
JAMES KELLSPELL, NK Kriagir Dorilin lecture:
Jim is sitting on the bed, gesturing and jerking with his whole body, surrounded by a crowd of people. Only five or six fit inside of the bedroom (standing room only!), and the rest trickles out into the lawn. Most people are rather young, but there are a few older ones.
I only went for breakfast to “Inner Dinner” :), I come back and here we are: a whole bunch of civilians (ahem, muggles) inside of the secured perimeter (“Uret”, in Merverit of the Sheiredis), with Dr. Michael and Matushka nodding approvingly, or asking people not to go too far into the entrance to Henry’s Royal Chamber.
“The ego resolves nothing. It is not there to resolve anything. It is there to torment you as per the protocol YOU have put into it. WAKE UP! You are being driven off the cliff like a bunch of lemmings! This is where this train is heading: this Universe is expanding only to cool off and go totally dark. And YOUR LIFE is heading for the same thing IF YOU DO NOT ASK GOD TO TURN THIS PROCESS AROUND! What is your problem, people? The ego GUARDS YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS against GOD, you KNOW it, and still you can’t wake up to the Truth!” Jim looks somewhere behind the Spiral Staircase longingly.
“How much more of this? I really want to see Henry!”
The funniest part is that he WHISPERS over the heads of his audience, as if they can’t hear him.
“Ten more minutes, James! You promised to proselytise to the people!” I can see Lady Tigress at the entrance to the kitchen.
“You are all stupid muggles. You are asleep. None of this rap will help. Remember:
YOU ARE THE SLAVE OF THE MACHINE when you YELL, ACCUSE, DESPAIR, TAKE AWAY HOPE, ACT LIKE A BURDEN, SCARED/WANT TO SCARE OTHERS.
YOU ARE THE CHILD OF GOD (you woke up to remember enough) when you come to God as you feel that the machine pushes you to
YELL
ACCUSE
DESPAIR
TAKE AWAY HOPE (from yourself or others)
ACT LIKE A BURDEN
SCARED/want to scare others
Once you are with GOD, He will help you NOT
YELL
ACCUSE
DESPAIR
TAKE AWAY HOPE
ACT LIKE A BURDEN
SCARE yourself or others.
That’s it, I must go now!”
“Please, elaborate!”
The stupid machine can only:
YELL
ACCUSE
DESPAIR
TAKE AWAY HOPE
ACT LIKE A BURDEN
SCARE YOU (mostly into believing that you are alone, God does not exist, therefore help is not coming)
And, apparently, the “favourite” feeling I wanted to experience while asleep and “without God” is GETTING MAD.”
So, the ego, then, forces you to GET MAD.
“GET INSULTED” is another thing of the ego. It literally is ALWAYS on the lookout for things to bring your attention to, so you would have the reason to shoot up the poison of “I was so insulted”. But this one is separate from the rest. For now let’s focus on
YELL
ACCUSE
DESPAIR
TAKE AWAY HOPE
ACT LIKE A BURDEN
If you catch yourself doing that - you are being THE SLAVE OF THE EGO. Let’s remember, that the “ego” is a tape recorder. This is how deeply asleep you are. You, the Child Of God, dance to a recording of negative feelings , suggested by a machine!”
James spreads his hands with a fake “WTF” face.
“OMG, people, the stupid is firmly programmed to say “GET MAD” no matter what! It YELLS for me to GET MAD a thousand times a day. Reason or not… If there is no reason - it just yells at me to GET MAD! And if there is a REASON, then it goes DIRECTLY for THE ONLY OPTION that poor befuddled mechanism has: GET MAD!
It does not think about the consequences.
It does not care how me being MAD affects (and hurts) other people.
It just mindlessly pushes you to get mad, and IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU’RE UP AGAINST, then you will follow the dumb orders of the dumb device, and you WILL LOOK DUMB.
The machine does not think. It spits out your pre-recorded orders.
I HAVE TO THINK, THOUGH.
As I’m asleep in the Arms of Father, He can see the effects of the poison on me. He cries every time I have to GET MAD, because it is the ONLY SOLUTION I see. Or, rather, I’m SO ASLEEP, so under the influence of the poison, that I’m a complete mindless SLAVE OF THE DEVIL. That is why Father is crying. He can’t bear to see me getting hurt at the hands of the ego…
Am I making this up? Let’s see some examples. HOW do we get hurt at the hands of the “ego”?
The devil tells me to “get mad”, and I get mad. What a perfect slave of “your” ego! I bet you never knew you were a SLAVE! To “your” ego, yes.
No matter what it does to you, no matter how many stupid, embarrassing situations it pushes you into, no matter how much you get hurt, you keep on COMING BACK TO “your” ego… You know why? Because the poison made you into a bovine. You can no longer question things.
When you do not QUESTION things that hurt you, you ARE A COW.
If you are IN PAIN, you need to know WHY.
Once you ask yourself why, there will be an opening for a rap like this:
The ego is pressing me to get mad, for it was PROGRAMMED to force me to experience all these negative feelings. Why am I being a slave to a tape recorder? Good morning. Am i the dumb shit the machine thinks I am, or
AM I THE CHILD OF GOD?
If you decide NOT to be the dumb shit that gets pushed into traffic by their ego every time things do not go your way, then please know:
THE REVELATION OF THE YEAR!
It is the revelation of the century, you bitches! In fact, the most important conclusion the humanity could make since the Edwardian era:
THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS besides getting mad…!!!
BUT THOSE OPTIONS TAKE TIME AND THINKING.
;This is what the machine is programmed to prevent: say stuff that hurts you SO MUCH that you
discard the option of “taking time to think what to do instead of just mindlessly getting mad like a wild animal.”
The machine PLAYS YOU into NOT taking time to THINK and find OTHER OPTIONS.
Hint: NEVER look for other options ALONE. You WILL hand your freedom to choose to “your” ego. Ask Father for help. ASK FATHER FOR HELP RIGHT AWAY, you dumb fuckers. I have to go, people.
Jim jumps off the bed and, under the glances of the shocked audience, he runs off behind the Spiral Staircase.
James Kellspell: Reporting a potentially crippling issue.
File: Voice Memos: :: . . . :: . . . - hit “play”, it switches back to “standby”, and does not play.
Discovered: 8:00 am on the Aftermath of Darler’s death, NK Kriagir Dorilin
Lady Tigress: Kellspell, tell me what is going on?
James Kellspell: In British or in American, my Lady?
Lady Tigress: For the love of God, if you are planning to place your distress call, make it in the language you are comfortable with! Give me your SOS. How would “Mayday” sound in American?!
JKellspell: FUCK!
Lady Tigress: Very funny! Please quit freaking out and describe the problem to me.
Wallace Smith, present during James Kellspell - Lady Tigress Submersion Training:
She is really good at this. Without her James wanders mindlessly moping about missing Henry.
WITH her he is like a horse that is guided.
They must be in Hexacode. They’ve got to be. If only because of the conversation I’m hearing.
“Why did you move so fast?” Tigress asks in a somewhat demanding tone.
“The ego says: move fast IF YOU WANT IT YOUR WAY. And, of course, moron as I am, I have previously agreed that I want it “my way”, not “God’s way”. So, don’t get upset at Stupid when you find yourself all alone, and in tremendous amount of pain. The Stupid is simply telling you HOW to do it “your way”. If you move FAST without consulting God, it will be “your way” all the way to the edge of the Universe. This is where you are going run out of energy. The Stupid is never programmed to tell you that YOU do not GENERATE the Energy (Grace) to move. You take it from elsewhere. It is a big “hush-hush” secret between you and the ego that ‘elsewhere” is GOD! The “elsewhere” is God, BITCHES. You run as far as you can, as fast as you can because “your” ego is instructing you to? That is the distance you will have to crawl on your knees back to Father. When you run out of His Grace. The ego will never tell you that your run is FINITE. And after you’re out of breath, money and energy - you have not moved an inch away from God. And why would you want to?”
‘Very good! I think you have learned your lesson. Would you like to make it part of your lecture “To The Andromedans”? Tigress is pleased and she is hiding a smile.
“If you tell me to!” James, relaxed and happy over the good session.
He falls into his “cat” avatar, gets up from the table and rolls on the floor in front of Tigress. Then he rubs his face on her feet with a wide grin.
Come Jaguar with a very stern face.
Come Uncle Albert with his polite, eternal half-smile.
Tigress rushes to Albert with tears in her eyes. “Father!”
Albert hugs her, glancing at James. ‘I’m fine” His lips move just barely so.
Tigress calms down somewhat in Albert’s embrace, turns to James. “We have men, leaderless and wounded, to lead to God. I will play Dorothy, not you!”
“Yes, my Lady. I will not make a very good Dorothy. But I will be the mad scientist who gives Dorothy all the tools and all the advice.”;
“The Good Witch of the North.” Tigress nods, taking a deep breath, enjoying her father’s embrace.
“Only I will not just push you on the path with a kiss. I will be there every step of the way.” James gets up. “Now that we have sequenced 99% of the ego-protocol, we can pass to the Pearly Gates. Now I know what destabilises me. Now I see how NOT TO FALL to the ego’s voice. My mind thinks it is me, because it sounds like me. But it is my RECORDED voice with intentionally incorrect instructions.
The CORRECT instructions come from Father ONLY.
I KNOW the difference.
“Let’s come up with a situation, where you are annoyed. IMMEDIATELY, BECAUSE YOU DO NOT KNOW ANY DIFFERENT ACTION - you go to ‘your” ego and ask what to do with the one who annoys you.
The ego, IMMEDIATELY, because it was programmed by YOU, tells you to HURT the one who ANNOYS you.
And you might choose to yell at them to shut up.
THIS IS WHAT WE DO EVERY DAY!
ONE reason NOT to go to “your”e go when you need to resolve an issue is because THE EGO will ONLY and ever tell you to do a NEGATIVE thing.
You will AGREE because you have already, previously (before you fell asleep), put your settings to “I agree with the statement that I need to move and act fast to make sure it is MY WAY, and not God’s Way.”
Why should we NOT go to the ego for advice?
It will ONLY AND EVER tell you to “hit harder”, “break up with them”, “close the door on them”, “say the meanest thing you possibly can”.
You think you are not being led by “your” ego like a dumb sheep?
Why is your answer to ANYTHING you consider to be an insult is to LEAVE, break ties? What is behind this obsession with breaking ties? Have you given it a second thought? Have you analysed your behaviour?
This is the seed of disloyalty. This is the first crack that is pulling the Universe apart.
You do not always want to break up, true, but THEY ARE such assholes towards you, right? So, you must leave. But WHERE are you going? And WHY?
And for how long are you going to continue to be an obedient slave of the ego that compels you to run? How long are you planning to run? Have you ever wondered what are you running away FROM?
The ego will tell you that you are running away from “negative conditions, and unfair treatment”. But, in fact, all of this is an illusion. IN REALITY you are running away from God. And if you STOP and LOOK INTO HIS EYES, then you will know that the reason you receive poor treatment in life, is BECAUSE you are not with God.
Coming back to Him will take time, as ANY relationship that was broken and now needs to be rebuilt.
But the sooner you start - the better.
The ego will have you believe tat you can run forever.
But the ego NEVER tells you of the consequences of the actions it is pushing you into.
Once you realise that you ran too far, too fast - you will know you have run out of fuel. Energy, Grace. Whatever you call it. Your heart will grow cold, your mind will get dark. You ask ego what is going on - it will blame God. Why? It was programmed to press that button EVERY TIME you cry.
You cry because you asked for the ego’s advice when you should have talked to God.
If you listened to Father, you would not have to be cold, lonely and crying. The only reason you are all that, is because you took “your” ego’s advice. The ego that tells you negative things is a tape recorder under which your body is lying now on Level 99.
In your Father’s Arms, by the way. As you are asleep here, in this lifetime, blaming everyone (and maybe yourself, too), for stuff that led you to where you are.
There is no need for self-flagellation. Just quit listening to the ego and WAKE up to the Face of God.
Father is right here, ready to take you back, into his Loving Embrace.
When the Stupid pushes you in your mind, bugs you about “stuff God needs to give you for you to be happy”, or “this is not right” and “that is not right”.
End it very quickly by PLACING YOUR Oculum BACK WHERE IT should be:
I’m not here to please the stupid tape recorder.
I’m here to please Father.
Once you remember the difference, also remind yourself that this is HIS show, He is ALL THIS, and the ENERGY you spend engaging the Stupid to demand more from God, BELONGS TO GOD.
The Stupid, then, gets scrambled and shuts up (FINALLY).
You can return to talking to the Only One you should be talking to - God.
And the Only One you should be listening to - God.
When the Stupid bugs you that “others are creatively engaged while you’re on the bleachers”, you alert Tigress with words: I’’m getting an outdated signal from an old device that was misprogrammed ta begin with. What do I do?” And Tigress will tell you: tune it out. Do not waste your time listening to it. You put that recording there BEFORE you knew what was going to happen. Now you know. Pay all your attention to ME.’
“Now, look at these pictures. Which one of them is correct behaviour?”
There are two Hexacode-derived images (those might appear blurry and somewhat caricature if printed).
On one, Jim is portrayed as screaming at Lady Tigress.
On the other, Jim is portrayed as kneeling in front of her with his head bowed.
“This one.” Jim points at the second one.
“Why?” Lady Tigress is smiling triumphantly at Matushka, just outside in the backyard.
“This is me. I want to be that.” Jim nods. “Respectful towards women.”
“Respectful towards EVERYONE, Mr. Kellspell.” Lady Tigress looks satisfied. Then she makes half a turn towards Matushka. “It’s like communicating with a Neanderthal, but with an IQ of 120.”
James is a man of a different strain
With utmost disdain
For everything mundane
A bottle of wine makes you bovine
But a bottle of whiskey makes you frisky!
Wallace Smith:
“Who are we?
We are not a rogue squad.
We are the Shards
Of a Vase that is God!”
Of course, somehow, I want it “my way”, which is stupid. But in this poisoned dream state I am unaware of one thing:
97% of the time you will get hurt for expressing your opinion.
“You are not here to tell me what to do, Mr. Smith. You are here to do what I tell you to do. Do you understand the difference, Mr. Smith?”
Lady Tigress to me… Just a few minutes ago. It sounds so flat already as I write this. One might think - why are you so upset? Brush it off!
But you HAD to be there when I gave in to “my” ego and said something I should not have. And you should have seen her hard, accusing eyes when she showed me my place…
In between my bitter thoughts I must wait for the message from Uri Kumlatov, that will appear on this Bridgeplate as a multicolored cloud. I’m to stop the cloud and take a “mental picture” of it as it floats from left to right.
Lady Tigress has a lifetime of telling men what to do. When you’re out of line, she is going to make you feel it. And she will embarrass you in front of everyone so that you know not to give in to the ‘ego” jerks in your mind next time.
YOU WILL KNOW when she needs your opinion. When she asks you for it.
When THE EGO tells you to say something - you KNOW it is because it was misprogrammed. It was programmed to have you test the boundaries. And this is how you get hurt. Do we think about it when we say stuff we regret later? No, we do not.
When “your” dumb ego tickles you to express your opinion, remember that in 97% of the cases you are going to get hurt for it. Just this one simple rule will save you mountains of pain and years of wondering as to what went wrong with your life.
You talk too much. That’s what is wrong with your life.
I better not miss the message from Kumlatov. Must focus on the bridgeplate. Is it beginning? What is this bluish-gray form appearing to the left ? Oh, how frustrating! Why isn’t anyone teaching us how to use the bridgeplate.
When we were here alone, it was the kindergarten kids without the teacher.
For three years here on compound there was no Alpha.
So, Jim is used to do whatever he wants. He also likes to say whatever fuck he wants.
Henry is used to usurp Jim’s time and attention, for there was no one else to hold him back from devouring Jim alive. Sheba used to put her foot down, but Sheba is no longer here.
Richard Rockford tried to mount Jim, and he went too fast, too illegal. I’ll blame his failure to secure himself on the project as a respected Alpha to the pent-up pressure after stalking Jim for 18 years only to lose him to Henry Carlton, the insidious manipulator, as according to Sheba.
A whole another story, investigated and uncovered by Jim’s first Arkchil Record Operator Sheba (Samuel) of Salem.
But, also, impatience did him in. Part of ego-programming. “I want everything right now.” And Rockford went for it. Lessons to be learned here.
Lady Lion had acquired the Emerald Filament Team about 6 months before I finally managed to get to Strobulus. Jim told me she was beautiful, intelligent, very capable, but detached.
Now we know she held the Emerald Filament project until Jaguar could get in, and then let Lady Tigress in. Once they both were on Strobulus, my records show that Lady T had quickly acquired the entire Kellspell Algorithm from Lady Lion (Emerald Filament Team is a part of it).
Soon after Lady Lion took Tia Demetra and they moved out of their North Corner apartment on the second floor (right between Dr. Michael’s and Isaak Milgram’s).
Come to think of it, that apartment changed three owners in two years. Lord Sedgefield stayed there before Lady Lion for about 8 months. He was here to deliver the precious Henry Carlton to Jim for safekeeping. Two years ago. I was not on the ship yet.
Anyway. I wandered off into history. Let’s cut this.
Lady Tigress now owns the team.
The best part? Jim accepts it, because he remembers her from at least three of his past lifetimes. Chauvinistic in so many ways, this man has no problem working under a woman if she can prove that she is an Alpha and a better leader than Kellspell himself.
Jim is gay, but even he can feel Lady T’s tactics to keep people under control. He can feel enough to bend to her influence.
You can laugh, weep, or go berserk, but this woman has a few lifetimes worth of experience of bringing powerful men to their knees. Both for business and pleasure.
You can’t but fall in love with her. Why? Because she told you to.
And if you say something she does not like, you’re going down.
With a hardon, yes. But that is even more embarrassing. Kellspell is not receptive to women’s passions, so his dumb ass is mostly unaware of these hidden undercurrents.
;But not me. I can feel her every sharp needle of attitude.
I need to focus on the work now. Chase away my shame about being put down by Lady Tigress.
I must catch this message from Commander Uri Kumlatov. It should be coming any minute now. From left to right on the bridgeplate. Not from top to bottom, or right to left. No, this message will be passing from left to right. Must not miss it.
I set myself up for a whipping, yes. Why would I think she needed my advice? Did she ask for it, Mr. Smith? No, she did not. So, suck it up, Mr. Smith, and stop obsessing about how everyone witnessed your stupidity, giving in to your ego, your overactive mouth, MR.SMITH…
Oh… Wait! Was this the message I was waiting for? These greyish-blue clouds that came through just now?
Stop… How do I stop them from moving across the bridge plate? Darn… I missed these colourful configurations composing a message as I was engaged in mental self-flagellation. What do I do now?
Mental self-flagellation is part of self-mutilation, Jim told me.
I need these weird colourful slides… Jim told me to catch them as the message from Kumlatov appears… And I missed most of the cloud because I was stuck in my thoughts reliving my shame!
Now I feel even worse! Now I have to look Jim in the eye and admit that I missed the message he’s been waiting for. He put me here in the bedroom, at the brideplate, to catch it and give it to him.
What can I do? Now I can self-flagellate even more.
James Kellspell is an expert on self-mutilation. He once shot about ten rounds with this rifle with a suppressor on it. And then he pressed the inner part of his arm to the red-hot suppressor. And he burned his arm against the suppressor two more times. Holding it there for a few seconds each.
I watched the chilling Arkchil footage.
Now he has three parallel scars on the inner part of his left arm maybe five inches towards his elbow. Not his only self-mutilation mark, but, I think, the coolest.
Of all people I’m not appalled by it. I’m drawn to his techniques of replacing the emotional pain with the physical. I should, try it.
“Wallace, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Jim comes from the backyard in his usual fast gait, and appears behind my back within seconds.
Oh… Here goes. Soon enough!
“James, I have something to tell you…” I begin, and I feel like a kitten thrown into a mountain river of gargantuan proportions. No hope of swimming out of this one.
Kellspell is so full of energy that he knocks you off your feet and takes your breath away every time he rushes in and takes a hold of your mind.
He does not “talk” to you. He secures your mind, holds it captive and reaches out to it with burning protuberances of his fiery attention.
You feel fried alive.
You feel like a pinned butterfly. Flap your wings all you want, but James Kellspell has got you.
“This place is full of people, you and I need to work regardless, and you literally switched to a different channel as I was requesting you to send me the slides from Kumlatov! I tried to access your mind, but you weren’t there!!! Where are the slides? Did you miss them? Did you not stop them in time like I instructed you?”
“James, I… Lady Tigress ordered me to put a few more layers of security, and I opened up my mouth saying that she may be paranoid… Then I just could not get over it when she told me off. I switched to licking my mental wounds after she put me back in my place…”
But Jim is just not mentally here right now. He is distracted, torn apart and sweaty. And he brushes off everything I just said. He simply can’t focus on it.
Or, maybe, it’s me who does not get it.
“Wallace! By the end of this year we will have ten times more people on this here Strobulus! I am already under tremendous amount of pressure! No one is thinking about the security, because NOBODY UNDERSTANDS WHAT WE’RE UP AGAINST!”
“Please, don’t rub it in, Jim…” I begin.
But he is too spun out.
“I asked you to get me the slides of the message from Uri. This is for Albert. He is helping me build a better bridgeplate so we can get there faster, so we can open the Pearly Gates with more efficiency, and you are daydreaming…. (He glances at my bridgeplate)… of getting fucked by an unhinged homo with a self-mutilation problem!”
Oh, jeez. He can read the layers of my thoughts that get deposited on the bridgeplate. It’s like layers of sediment that can be easily understood by a geologist. This is what he sees. If you stand there for an hour folding the laundry - when he comes, and looks at the laundry - he will know every single thought you had as you were folding that darned laundry.
“I know… James, I had a rough morning…” I mumble, knowing well that any minute now he is going to see that I failed to retain the slides of the message he asked me about. I missed at least two first slides before I stopped the passing message.
The bridgeplate is now frozen on the THIRD slide of the message, and it is only because I hit full stop of all activity when Jim showed up.
“No, Wallace! I HAD A ROUGH MORNING!” Jim makes big eyes at me, and just now I notice that the right side of his face is getting puffy as we speak. “I got hit in the face TWICE in twenty minutes!”
“What happened?” I gasp. “Did Henry hit you?”
“No… Henry was taken to the outer orbit to meet a group of adoring fans from Silver Passion.” Jim rolls his eyes. “To each his own. You think YOU fucked up? Listen to this. Albert and I were working on improving the LHS SeaRock Blue Bridgeplate, namely putting the correct statement platform underneath it to improve its stability and the longevity of the signal, when Lady Tigress came over and slapped me for calling Albert “Uncle Albert”! I will not let you cross that line, she yelled at me, for he is your king.”
Stuff starts clicking in my head as he says all this. She came here irate. Now I see why she was pissed. Jim pissed her off.
“What did you answer?” I take a deep breath and prepare for the rest of the story. At least I no longer feel like I was the only one put down this unfortunate morning.
“I said, if I call him “my king”, there goes security. It’s like saluting your officer in the field conditions. Ever heard of that? Ever thought of that? Arkchil Record is rolling, Clandeslux is watching. There were two attempts JUST on my life JUST last year alone, and I’m being told to identify Albert as “my king” on the record. This is when she stormed out.”
“This is when she came here and told me to beef up the security.” I nod slowly, as Jim’s right side of face is getting more swollen. “And I gave her back talk without knowing what set her off. She gave you a pretty impressive left hook. I’ve known her my whole life and I had no idea she was THAT strong.”
“My right side was not hers to hit.” Jim rubs his face. “After she slapped me on my LEFT cheek, and stormed off, Jaguar, obviously, was looking at me like I was the last ape in the zoo. I remembered that the STATEMENT we were getting ready to slide underneath the bridgeplate was still in the works by Kumlatov. So, I BOWED TO MY KING, and went to see you, who was told to pick up the slides Kumlatov was working on. ON THE WAY ACROSS THE LAWN I walked into the “Kardashian Parade”!”
“Kardashian Parade?” I repeat meekly, looking around. Where did he see that?
The rising sun, percolating through the pine branches, lights up Jim’s jittery figure from behind and his disheveled hair makes him look like a crow that was just hit with a rock.
“Yes! All these women in tight evening dresses, bejewelled and yapping about stupid shit! Right outside of our rooms!”
“Where, Jim? What have you been smoking?”
“On the other side of this hedge, Wallace! They are still there!” James points to the North side of the compound. “I’m not allowed to smoke by Lady T’s orders! Go see the giggling decked out bitches for yourself!”
“OK!” I say soothingly, staring at his right eye, slowly turning dark-red, and then bluish.
“And if that was not enough, guess what, Dr. Michael is there with them, the people pleaser, the ladies man! He is entertaining them, and he’s got a bottle of champagne standing right there in the grass! I said - Dr. Michael, who are these people? This is a secured area! Alien technology is being worked on here!”
“Is that when he hit you?” I just about forgot Lady T’s sharp response to my insubordination, because Jim is so fun to watch retell the story in character.
Jim remembers many of his lifetimes. He does not remember the one where he fell off a traveling circus wagon and stuck around in town. He is a hilarious performer.
He is even funnier when he does not mean to entertain you. He is VERY FUNNY when he is in pain, holding on to his jaw. His impromptu performance is unrelenting, unhinged and triggers the best and the worst in you.
“Oh, no. After I mentioned the alien technology, the ladies made some kind of dumb jokes about Area 51, and this is where I lost it and told Dr. Michael to get these bling bitches off my fucking ship.”
Ohh.. I’m done trying to take this with a straight face. I abandon the bridgeplate, sit on the bed, and laugh. “Area 51”? You could not make it up.
I laugh freely, I laugh like I never laughed before. And what better day to laugh like a child? The morning of that day was spent in severe self-flagellation for expressing my opinion.
And here is our technical director (I’m struggling to find a right title for James here), who got slapped not once, but TWICE the same morning, for the SAME THING! Expressing his opinion.
While I may have been out of line telling my boss Lady Tigress that she was paranoid about the security, Jim was right both times. And still he is sporting a black eye and a sore jaw.
My day has started crapy, but it is looking up now.
And the statement I started this record with holds true. So true. In 97% of the cases you are going to get hurt for your opinion.
The ego is a tape recorder, recorded by you to drive your sleeping mind away from God and into darkness of being completely alone. This is what it is all about.
The ego is never going to stop pushing you to violate a boundary, to cross a line.
This is what you’re here for. To experience the world where God can’t help you to make the right choice. Like a kid, who ran away from the parent, and is trying to live alone in the woods.
The odds are stacked against you, for no matter what you come up with - it will not work. You cannot achieve ETERNAL HAPPINESS no matter what you rest your eyes upon. No matter what you do.
This existence will devastate you one way or another -
For if it is not sad, then it will end.
It is UPON YOU to understand what you’re up against.
It is upon you to see yourself as a PART OF THE DIVINE.
Not a separate cloud of who-knows what.
This is where the problem lies.
If you think that you’re an entity, separate from the Divine, this is when you will have an opinion that will hurt you and others.
For if you are NOT a PART of the DIVINE, then your picture is limited.
Therefore your opinion is limited.
Therefore it hurts by exclusion.
You can only be happy if you know the Truth.
If you do not know the Truth, then you’re letting “your” ego lie to you. By definition.
It is only a matter of time before this poorly concocted lie will fall apart.
Jim is reading over my shoulder. But he is thinking something else.
“You told Lady Tigress that she was paranoid? Ha-ha. Priceless.”
Right when I thought that he was reading my cool conclusions about the Divine.
‘So, she MAY BE paranoid.” I insist still, knowing that lady Tigress is not here to contest it, or put me down again.
“Not nearly enough.” Jim pulls out a pack of cigarettes and puts one in his mouth.
“I thought she told you to quit smoking.”
I am going to confront him. He is the one always talking about loyalty and following orders, and being a better man, and not “crossing the boundaries.”
Now that Lady Tigress is not here to see him, he is going to cheat.
“I’m not going to smoke it. Lady Tigress found out that part of my addiction to tobacco is the fact that I use a cigarette as a prop. When I feel lost, and need a “crutch”, if only just to climb into the minds of people in front of me, this is when I smoke.”
“U-huh. I kind of knew that. But what does it give you in terms of quitting smoking?”
“When you feel lost, just put a cigarette in your mouth.” She told me. “But do not light it. See if it works as a prop even as it is not lit.” Jim pulls the cigarette out and gives me a jubilant smile.
“Is that how you’re QUITTING SMOKING? That’s the craziest bat-shit I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s an opinion that comes from a limited picture, therefore hurts by exclusion, Wallace. You have not learned anything since morning. I, on the other hand, have been slapped enough.” Jim frowns and brings up his SeaRock bridgeplate.
“What are you going to do? Quit having an opinion the way you’re quitting smoking?” I sigh and think of lunch.
“No. I am preparing a
Report on Strobulus Security
and Clandeslux As The Clear And Present Danger To Our Project”.
And I’m going to call it “Busting Your Pastoral, Bovine Bliss”
I fall on the bed face down and moan with laughter.
“I need those slides, Wallace. Albert will unload the underlying statement, but he needs a frame.” Jim is dead serious, staring into his bridgeplate. “Kumlatov just relayed me the newsreel about the renewed military activity on Mesmerix now going as far as Ochawar! Do you know what that means? Nobody gives a shit here! We are in the middle of some tremendous political upheaval, and all I see is rich fat cats and celebrities drinking and running in packs on the premises. No one is taking the situation seriously. I will reflect my opinion of the ‘Kardashian Parade”, in my “Busting Your Bovine Bliss” Report.”
I would be laughing if I had the slides.
I only caught two out of three. And the first one floated off the bridgeplate like a cloud in the sky before I could take a “mental picture” of it as Jim instructed me.
All I can do now is filibuster, and hope that Jim will cool off and not yell at me if I pitched him for another explanation.
“If Andromedans are so smart, why haven’t they invented a device on which messages get downloaded like an email, and once it is THERE, we can look it up? How can it be that a MESSAGE travels across the Bridgeplate, and it is GONE if you did not catch it in time? WTF, anyway? Can you imagine doing business like that on Earth?”
Jim looks at me like I’m a total moron. “That is the difference between the thinking of the apes, like us here on Earth, and the advanced civilisation. Let me explain, why…”
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Dr. Michael sticks his head into the half-opened sliding door. “Something has come up… Lady Tigress wants to see you both in the Situation Room right now.”
My heart falls. I a still hurting from scolding. Maybe I can’t see her that soon.
“Does the name of Edward Coburg tell you anything, James?” Dr. Michael fixes my mate with an intense stare.
It takes a lot of emotional energy to fire up and keep the bridgeplate on (Andromedan technology calls on using the power of your brain instead of electricity), and right now Jim seems to be drained of all colour, energy and strength he ever had.
“Who is Edward Coburg, Jim?” I whisper into this ear as we walk after the businesslike and stern Dr. Michael.
“Edward Coburg might possibly mean that I’m not going to MEOL anytime soon.” Jim whispers back, barely opening his lips, sweat running down his temple. “You know how in a game you throw a dice, and the number means that you have to go ALL THE WAY back to square one? That’s it. I’m fucked, Wallace. I’m so fucked.”
“When the machine is trying to drag me away, I DON’T HAVE TO GO ANYMORE! Now I have the claws (persuasions) to hold on to Father when the Stupid screams stupidly: “Waste no more time on love and loyalty! We must fund the way to PAIN! We must find the way to CONFLICT!”
And now I’m like - that dumb machine! I can’t believe I was that fucking childish to have programmed it this way. Let’s tune it out, and forget about it.
All attention to Father, Who is instructing me how to expel the ego-poison that kept me in heavy dream state for 13 bln yrs. Father is helping me to get out of the ego-chains that were hurting me for the entire duration of the dream sequence.
Wallace Smith here, Personal Arkchil Operator for Regent of MEOL James Kellspell. So much happened, and I missed so much because I have family back on Earth.
Ok, how about the quick recall of the recent events in our lovely reality show that is being sponsored by Prince Moretr in loving memory of his Empress Mother Gina Yasmin of Leot.
Both Grehedis, able to change their gender at will. I could live there. I could explain why. But Jim wants us all to be “less egoistic and self-centered”. As I’m his Arkchil Record Operator, meaning, the chronicler, I can only put this much of me into this narration.
Let’s hear it from Albert, a man a lot more pure than me.
“I was tested by every tool in this Box of Trials.”
After Albert’s revelations about his childhood James has a vision of a boy tied to a cross, recognises Albert and collapses in shock.
Distressed and distraught Tigress hits the emergency. That was on Tuesday.
Jim is revived by the Arkabins, who greatly enjoy being on the set and participating in one of the most famous reality shows in Federated Lands (note from Wallace Smith: they call that Andromeda Federation due to some current political twists I have hard time following. More one that later). We ARE one of the most famous shows in Eridani Industries, for sure. Right after “Bruno Libra”.
Upon awakening Jim wishes he remained unconscious.
Tigress is asked to leave the bedroom as Albert kneels in front of James and asks to be taken as his sixth’s spouse.
Jim crashes on the bed again, wants to know what is going on, and where does it end. Every time he is after what he thinks is his coveted Alpha, the mirage dissipates one way or another. This time with what he thought was, FINALLY, his “Alpha”, on his knees in front of James begging to be appropriated.
This is where Melekh shows Jim why Albert was born, and his Mission on Earth. With tears in his eyes, Kellspell takes Albert and calls him “Jeshua”, “The Lamb Of God” in reference to what James was shown about Albert’s life.
Henry is devastated over the sixth spouse assigned to James (he is tired of sharing James with the rest of us as it is), but is quickly reminded that James is not something Henry can have just for himself.
Jim comforts Henry by saying that “Daddy will work very hard to provide his sweet boy with everything”, as he prepares for the ceremony of acquisition of Jeshua.
As if Henry is the only one bent out of shape ver the “Sixth Mate”. God only knows what it costs ME NOT TO use the keys I was given, disable Jim’s defence, and just take him for myself, if only until discovered.
I will not do it, though.
Is it because Rockford has already tried that and found himself handcuffed to a chair in the most of shameful ways, with no lines, during the performance, until further notice?
No. I don’t care if I end up handcuffed to a SINKING SHIP for only ONE NIGHT with James. I know what Rockford was thinking when he slipped Jim a roofie. Sometimes I want James so much, all for myself, that I bite my tongue and my lips so that the pain would distract me from my thoughts and my hardon. As was announced earlier, I want him in his female avatar, also.
Yeah, so, pardon my hardon…
This darned poem-weaving app built into this bridgeplate by Jim. It weaves your thoughts into poems if you let it. And you can’t turn it off. I’m beginning to hate it just like my predecessor, Sheba Of Salem.
Why do I even bring up my personal desires and dire needs? If we all gave in to our admirable display of perversion, there would be no one left to perform. We ALL would be handcuffed to chairs all over this stage.
Oh, God help me. I came here to give a short outline of what has happened in the last 2 weeks, and instead confessed all my deepest lustful secrets. And Jim wants me to look him in the eye?
It is enough he can hear my every thought as I search for his used underwear in the hamper, using the fact that he is in the bathroom. He KNOWS what I’m doing ALL THE WAY FROM THE BATHROOM.
I know we’re supposed to be preparing for some interview, but I can’t do anything before I had my fix.
And, flush… Here comes Jim out of the bathroom with a wide smile on his face, already pulling his new BLUE SeaRock Bridgeplate to his LEFT hand (more on that later, his tribute to Albert).
The new bridgeplate is somewhat monochromatic, with shades of black background overlapped by three muted-blue “leaves”.
But this one is charged with an even more powerful statement. As we know, you can only work a bridgeplate if you agree with the statement it carries.
The purity of the statement determines the strength of the bridgeplate. The statement that is embedded in Jim’s new “SeaRock” bridgeplate is of such high purity of faith that “mountains can be moved with this bridgeplate”, quoting Jim.
Mountains can be moved, but for now all Jim is doing with this bridgeplate is use it as a communicating device with his favourite First Spouse.
“Henry, I’m going to take Albert by the standard ceremony at the designated time. You sound like a kid who does not want a brother, so he could have his parents’ full attention. No? How about a kid who does not want Daddy to go to work so that Daddy would be with him all day? Tending to Uncle Albert is what I’ve been doing for a living, and now he is welcomed into our family.”
Jim walks right by me and pecks me on the cheek as he continues his explanations to Lord Carlton.
“I know how you feel, but the Amalgamation process is what it is - I take as many units as are offered to me for very specific reasons. Yes, Henry, you suffered a lot, but Albert has suffered incredibly more than either one of us could ever boast, AND he came out as pure as spring cloud.”
I drown in shame and hide his underwear in the pocket of my dressing gown. Level 2 liquid thinking - it is so easy to influence matter here. His boxers turn into laced women’s panties, already safely in my pocket, containing HER incredible smell.
“You know why? It is because we are essentially, pigs, Henry. You and I have failed every test we were ever given. No, please let me finish. While on the outside we have accepted our fate, on the INSIDE we allowed our souls to rot in hatred and grudges. What? What happened to Albert? You need to hit the history books, Henry. Please stay safe on the outer ring, enjoy your interview and when you get home, we will have a little talk.”
Then Kellspell turns to me. His face is triumphant.
He feels the influx of energy on the waning moon. And on the growing moon he, again, will be standing in front of the mirror with a knife pressed deeply to his neck artery.
“Wallace, you can’t wait for me to punish you for stealing my underwear. Each of my bonded mates is deeply egoistic in their desires, and ego-centric in their thinking. Did Mr. Rockford jerk off on my pillow again before being handcuffed to a chair for previous transgressions?” Jim chuckles quietly to himself with a very self-content facial expression.
He won his Mr. Rockford back from the women, when they almost and very nearly voted Rockford off the set for raping James in his female avatar.
James Kellspell and Richard Rockford go way back. Kellspell and Rockford will always be a team.
“Please get ready for our interview with Protostar Group Of Conflagrance City.” Jim tells me as he puts on pants and a white shirt.
“Protostar Group?!” I breathe out in horror. NOW I remember. “They are coming here?! James, LEOT IS WATCHING THEIR EVERY MOVE!!!”
I KNOW why I forgot who we were going to see today. When last week I heard that “Protostar Group of Conflagrance” wanted to conduct an interview with James, I freaked out so much I chose to push the information out of my consciousness. I simply did not know how to deal with the stress that I get every time I hear the darned Protostar Group, run by two rogue Grehedis, Salima of Grieving Shard House and her faithful student Khalidah.
Salima of Grieving Shard and Empress Gina Yasmin were best friends, for they BOTh knew Arzadellin personally. They fought side by side against Leot.
Now Salima has picked up the flag of rebellion from Gina Yasmin’s hands.
Leot is after her.
And he is after everyone who is with her.
“That is why they’re NOT coming here. We’re going to be transferred to Mesmerix telepathically. We will leave our bodies in the room three doors down…. Wallace?”
I know that I just turned pale. Protostar Group was the new power emerging for a while. Yes, a worthy replacement for Gina Yasmin’s Liberation Front, but balancing on the same sharp edge.
Protostar Group is just as faithful to the Original Teachings, therefore just as ready to go to war for them.
Their leader, Salima of the House of Grieving Shard, has been missing for 6 months now. Rumors are that she was taken to Leot’s orbital station around Arzadellin planet. The last thing you’d want is to expose your budding Prophet to Leot’s Clandeslux, the ever-sniffing secret police.
“We can’t be associated with the Protostar Group, JAMES!!” I shake my head vigorously.
“Um…” Jim wants to answer, which would include “don’t be such a pussy”, or something like that. But Albert walks across the backyard, and slides the door open.
“May I come in, James?” Albert says.
I still don’t know about “Jeshua”. I need to make a huge leap from ‘Albert” to “Jeshua”. And I may not be the only one struggling with this.
“Erhm…” Jim chokes on his own saliva and throws his head back. “FUCK, Albert, I have hard time hearing this from you!”
“Now YOU know how I felt when you kissed my shoes.” Albert smiles, comes to James and holds his hands. “Thank you for taking me into your family. I will love and respect your children the way you have been loving and respecting mine all along.”
“Henry gave me crap for it.” James places his hands on Albert’s shoulders ever so gingerly, as if his new mate was made out of crystal.
“Henry is a fine gentleman. I knew his grandfather very well.” Albert’s lips stretch just a tad.
Jim’s bridgeplate is glowing blue. He is using a level equaliser app to help Albert speak. For those who just joined us, Albert has severe stutter, and without the equaliser his speech would not sound nearly as smooth.
Jim’s first mate, Wolf Hafnian, could not speak at all due to mental disability. Jim sent his thought stream through the level equaliser and subsequent recordings of their conversations were pretty eloquent. Soon after Hafnian had lost his human appearance altogether and DeVo’ed into a large, tail-wagging cute omega wolf.
So Jim is not a stranger to adapting alien technology for the needs of merciful therapies, as he calls his inventions based on the interfaces he received from Prince Moretr.
“Are you guys ready for the interview?” Jim smiles with all his artificial teeth and he looks like a dog from a meme.
I call it “Jim’s Beam”.
“Maybe not a good idea to take me, James…”
Albert is not much for publicity, or speaking at all for that matter.
“Wallace? There is no time to turn chicken. Do I need to shave?”
I feel rising in my ears and I can’t stop it. “Protostar group, James? Has Moretr gone insane letting them get in touch with you?”
“I really do not have time fo your editorialising of the Andromeda politics right now, Wallace. When in doubt, remember two things: by the end of summer we will be dumb and dumber, and we ALL will die on MEOL. Now, do I need to shave?”
“If we go to Mesmerix, even telepathically, we will be traced, James. Leot WILL know. How important is this interview?” I moan out in utmost despair.
“If we go to Mesmerix telepathically, why do you need to shave?” Albert says via a copy of a Searock bridgeplate he just pulled up under his left palm.
Comment one: Our dear friend Albert is learning to use the alien technology very quickly. Maybe you would, after a lifetime of not being able to speak.
Comment two: haha. Albert’s quick-witted answer causes a wave of laughter and a ripple of satisfaction in the audience.
“
“Mesmerix planet, Kloritahan System, Lar-Mur Constellation, Andromeda Fucking Federation, here we come!!”
If you are with God, then you are ALWAYS moving towards something wonderful, meaningful and warm. He will make your eventual Awakening
If you are not with God, then you are running in painful circles that will result in your inevitable death.
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Chapter 131 (from 119) We Will Pass Unnoticed
(Plus four chapters in Russian on
Proza.ru under Äæåéìñ Êåëëñïåëë
Jameskellspell
Mmikkelsen65
griffinfrank@mail.ru)
“A chore is task performed without love
The Love is only given from Above.”
Cast:
James Kellspell, the Regent of MEOL
(Says here we secured the planet. We haven’t secured squat yet)
Of Levin Corporation: Lady Lion (Tia Demetra)
Under the aegis of Jaguar & Tigress
Lord Henry Carlton, Reg. J.Kellspell’s First Omega
Capt. Christopher as Lord Carlton’s Personal Arkchil Record Operator
Mr. Wallace Smith as Reg. J.Kellspell’s Personal Arkchil Operator
(And Jim’s third omega. Let’s see, it’s Henry(Krotkie), then me, yeah, third)
Mr. Richard Rockford as Reg. J.Kellspell press secretary
(He would have been Reg. J.Kellspell’s Alpha, had he not fallen from Grace)
Mr. Kyle Merritt, Lord Henry Carlton’s First Omega
St. Lady Anne (Jim cries every day with joy, she is the first one to achieve martyrdom in his team)
Mr. Isaak Milgram (drinking and eating pizza upstairs until Jim tells him why innocents suffered)
H.M., Jim’s underage son (too young to know better)
Mr. Leonard Rubinstein (wanting nothing for himself, but Krista)
With support of: Deborrah and Hugh Michael Family Foundation
“This is why, essentially, I must make a vow never to have any more psychotic episodes that involve going after other people - in person or in effigy.”
Jim’s mental state has not been the best since he lashed out at Mr. T. Or, rather, it’s always been shaky, and James would not change a thing, but he was shocked at how his aggression affected Henry.
Henry, who was always the psychotic one, at least from Jim’s perspective, had accused James of the same. Henry, also, was heard saying how Jim’s behaviour reflected on him.
James does not care if he lives or dies. But he DOES CARE about Henry.
The other day Jim came back from Level 1 all beat up. H.M. did not care to hear Jim’s analysis of one of their friend’s behaviour back during the times when they did fix and flips. “Joy spent 3 hours scraping out what looked like perfect grout to me, swearing at the workers because it was literally, half a millimetre too much on the tile. And then she found this little piece of metal in the grout between the tiles and wailed like it was a bullet in the heart of a child. I kid you not, words she used towards those workers. And I said to myself - bitch, someone’s pain is greater than yours, and they’re so bottled up - they can’t even express it in any other way but sideways and backwards…”
“This is when H.M. turned to me and said - I’m tired of you using the word “pain” all the time! You think Joy was in pain, and I think she was just bored! YOU are in pain. And I know I said all the wrong things, and I know what you’re going to say, and I know you feel like I’m abusing you, and I know you’re going to pout the rest of the day and then tell all your friends how poorly I treat you - I know all that, but the subject is closed, because I care not to talk about PAIN!”
“Then what happened?” I ask, marvelling at how good James is at copying other people and relaying their views through his performance.
“And then, after he said that, and I knew I couldn’t’ even share the most valuable things with my most trusted friend on Level 1, I was in SO MUCH PAIN that I literally could not see right in front of myself as we were turning from the Church to Pittsburg St and into the garage.” James exhales loudly. He wants a cigarette, but he is not allowed to have any, but by Tigress’s special permission.
Weighing asking for permission against the shame of giving in to the craving and HAVING to ask for permission… Jim thinks better of it. It’s been two hours.
“Next thing I know - you broke right through the shrubs on the lawn, nearly fell into Matushka’s roses, and rushed into this here bedroom.
;Where he was met by Henry, whose icy-frigid stare stopped Jim right in his tracks.
“Henry, H.M. does not understand me! It is so frustrating!” Poor Jim was almost crying, when Henry’s face changed from weather in Arctic to weather on Mars.
“Is that what took you so long? You were shooting up NES-sp?” Lord Carlton growled in whisper in his deep voice.
;“Henry, how am I supposed to live with his attitude without shooting up HES-sp?” James began and regretted it right away.
“The Covenant says absolutely nothing about you needing to waste time on any of this mindless chat. The Covenant that you have signed with me compels you to ask how i am doing when you see me, and what can you do to make it better for me.”
“Yes, Henry! Thank you for reminding me!” James shook his head, as if slapped. The transformation in him was almost instant.
“I’m not in the best of moods, James. I am very hurt over what happened on the set today, and you are to tell me that I’m the best and it is their fault.”
“Can we look into the situation first, before I make that conclusion, Henry?” Jim bleated, now almost defeated :)
“I already have lines for you, James. Your editorials are not required. Please look me in the eye and tell me that they were wrong and I fell victim to their ignorance and narrow-minded attitude!”
“Oh, of course, Henry!” Jim’s face finally lights up in a belated, but nevertheless sincere expression of adoration. “Those assholes don’t know what they’re doing. You are most talented and always the most incredible. I can never get enough of you. It is truly so. They will come crawling to you.”
For the rest of the night Kellspell never said a word about his emotional troubles, and spent all the time tending to Henry’s various needs - bringing him drinks, polishing his shoes and blowing non-existent dust off his shoulders, moaning and rubbing himself slightly between his legs even time Henry would change the position of his body, or move his hips.
Sheba would have said that our village idiot is being used and abused by a smart, selfish and a completely immoral aristocrat.
I say - love will keep us alive.
JAMES KELLSPELL: THIS IS WHERE and HOW I UNPLUG MYSELF FROM THE DUMB EGO DEVICE FOREVER (no more pain!):
I must make sure that I “smell/breathe/receive instruction/protocols” ONLY from the SeaRock Bridgeplate with the CORRECT protocols, put there by Melekh.
IF I FORGET, “get lost in thought”, THEN I start picking up the POISONED PROTOCOLS that the machine spits out.
THIS IS WHEN IT GAINS CONTROL over my mind, and this is where I let it get to Father’s Oculum (ME!), and bring its attention to negative images (concocted out of 10% fact and 90% incorrect interpretation of the fact).
I watch that, and get a burr up my ass, and start accusing Father of “not giving me enough”.
THIS IS HOW YOU STOP ROLLING DOWN THAT DARNED HILL ALL THE WAY TO THE POISONOUS RIVER BEND:
Watch what you INTAKE. Be aware that if you are in a “bad mood”, then you inhaled ego-protocols, because you lost your focus.
This is how far I’ve fallen mentally: I ONLY NOW made the connection that I get so hopelessly, painfully sick (depressed) because I eat garbage on the street (intake of wrong protocols). WATCH what you eat and you won’t get sick.
WATCH WHAT YOU INTAKE - meaning - do not fall asleep under the machine, and you will not have to smell its farts, loaded with misinterpretation with the sole desire to get you to turn away from Father.
While so many of us are still seeking to re-connect with each other, Henry Carlton and James Kellspell had absolutely no problem uniting fully within less than a year.
Boy, did it piss off Sheba. But, I guess, it was because Henry was so prone to criminal activities. While James has no filters and would help Henry do in his own grandma if Henry told him so.
It is now officially HenryJames Amalgamated :).
It is a joy to watch them interact.
Henry, hissing in his very deep voice, pushing Jim to his knees: “You are a commoner, and I am of royal blood. You will never be my equal. Do you understand that?”
James, so hard and full of desire he can barely part his lips: “Yes, Henry.”
“You will do what I tell you to do, and if you don’t, I will have no problem breaking you in half if I must!”
“Yes, Henry…” James is now grovelling at Henry’s feet. “Oh… Henry, please… Would you let me sniff your butt… Just once. Can I kiss your dick? Just a little bit… Very needy, Henry. I must have you now…”
Another one:
Henry, with tears in his eyes, intro’ing Jim as he walks back in from outside, having smoked his one (!) allowed morning cigarette (Tigress is working to eliminate Jim’ smoking habit):
“Everyone, please meet my husband, Dr. James Kellspell.”
James, stunned: “DOCTOR James Kellspell? Everyone, whatever drugs Henry is on, they must be good hallucinogens. Just FYI: “Doctor Kellspell” is not quite it. I barely finished high school, and then I went directly into acting in porn. They do not exactly ask for your doctorate degree at the door in those places.”
Henry runs into the bedroom where James is getting ready for an interview with St. Merelion Broadcasting, in an irate voice: I ought to whip you, James!
Jim (blushes): Oh, jeez, Henry… Do we have time for this?
A-and my last, but not the least: the cooing of two love doves:
Henry, his eyes awash with tears, transparent in the last sun rays of the day: “And if you ever even as much as think of leaving me, James… Do you remember the scene from “Silence of the Lambs” where Dr. Lecter crucifies that cop up above? I suggest you study that scene in detail because this is what I’m going to do to you!”
James: This is the most beautiful love song anyone had ever sang to me!”
My comments, to myself, and into the channel: Yes. Loved that song. This is the sum of Henry’s love songs:
“I’m evil and possessive
And it’s not at all progressive!”
But who am I to judge. After such songs James is on his knees in front of Henry rubbing his crotch with soft moans and much anticipation to sink his dick into Henry’s butt.
Jim’s lines in the documentary about his Initial Omega:
“People’s faces would light up just at the mention of his name! I was there, I saw it!
Dean Reed gave me the idea that I wanted to move towards what is Warm, Light, living.
We know that our lives are becoming colder and colder day by day! Something is missing. What is missing? More money? A bigger house? We know it does not work!
What is missing?
More money? A bigger house?
I’ll tell you what is missing.
Happiness is missing.
This is what Dean was for us then, for me - HAPPINESS!
He was there because he cared.
He did not want to get into your pocket. He wanted to get into your heart.
After an idol like that you are an orphan for life.
An idol like that leaves a huge void in your heart. He is big shoes to fill.”
All this happened on the rising moon. I do believe that if it happened at ANY OTHER TIME, James would be more grateful than whiny:
“So, after forty years of beatings he was invited for the “only Drop of Grace” of filming and he is spending the day alone at the hotel.” Henry comes to me after binge-watching Jim’s life on Level 1.
“This is how steel gets hardened.” I respond, running protocols on my GREEN, simple bridgeplate.
James is currently busy pulling in Loyalty-Honor-Service algorithms off the stream Melekh directed him to, and then releasing the necessary anti-ego medicine into the bloodstream of his newly formed Kellspell-Tigress-Uncle Albert Alliance, renewing and refreshing their ETERNAL UNITY.
He is doing it on the newly formed Searock Bridgeplate that requires an immense amount of self-control to operate.
I can move mountains with it, Jim says. Mainly because these mountains are only in their heads, he adds.
Upon the instruction from Tigress, he locked in on Uncle Albert and is bringing us all closer to each other across vast spans of time and space.
He is about to bring into this reality the gist of Ar-Snap. He is on the edge of this discovery, but he does not know it yet. He is simply doing what Tigress is telling him, for he loves her and he REMEMBERED her from BEFORE he was born here.
Henry throws himself on the bed and watches James in stunned awe.
“If it is any consolation, I promise that we will never talk about this dumb arrangement ever again. I will not watch their stupid resulting movie, and I’m going to have my life back by tomorrow night.” James raises his left brow really high as he focuses on pulling the correct algorithms from the correct source.
He can only raise his left brow, but not the right one.
Matushka tends to her garden outside, but she is keeping her eye on James.
“Your mind should not be idle, James. As soon as you lose control of your Oculum, it ROLLS DOWN to where it can see/hear the ego-device. The ego device picks up the situation, and makes sure it portrays it to you ALWAYS IN A NEGATIVE LIGHT. Once you (your unattended Oculum) sees/hears that, you take the poison of NES-sp (self-pity, your favourite), and you inject it into yourself, making things worse.”
“Right…” Jim sighs. “It would have been easy not to inject the poison of self-pity, if the crap the ego says is totally imaginary. But there is more than 10% of truth in the infamous feedback I’m getting…”
“Talk to me, but please continue picking the right algorithms with Searock Bridgeplate.”
“OK…” Jim nods. “I KNOW I had a very hard life where both my mother and H.M. beat the living daylights out of me, to the point where I no longer care to see her ever again. Don’t tell me I did not have a hard life. Criticism and beatings was 90% of it. 90% acidity solution. This is the tank in which this fishy was forced to live…”
“Take a breath, James.” Melekh suggests softly.
“U-huh…” James is not interested in taking a breath when he flies off the deep end. “My life feels like I’ve been chewing on nothing but wormwood for 40 years! Every time Dobry sees me, “her” ego kicks in, and she starts yelling at at me for shit within hours of my arrival, as soon as the novelty wears out. Fuck it, I care not to fall on the sharp knives of her judgement anymore. So, that crap is over with. It’s been 5 years and I DO NOT MISS HER. I miss HER, but not “her” ego, to which she is a slave. Good job on getting me the article about Darler in time. That was YOUR calling and excellently performed by her, yes. But this is where it ends.”
It feels like he did not want to start whining to Melekh, but then the frequencies of Henry and the ego-program kind of coincided.
“Look at it this way - WHAT IF I IHAD A FUCKING LIFE? What they did was bring me to L.A., and made me sit in the hotel for a whole day. IF I WAS PAID to perform, then this is what you do - you were paid for three days - and by God you will sit there for three days until we call you. But they DID NOT PAY ME anything, and they stranded me here. Granted, Wallace’s prayers worked and the nice Armenian driver Arthour stopped at the liquor store. With a bottle of 14% wine I can sit here all day and think of nothing but Hafnian studies. I told everyone I spoke Hafnian, and that means I better study this whole time to actually be able to defend it.”
“You will see that not a single hour you have spent walking this Earth will be in vain.” Melekh responds, his ghostly presence is like a shadow over water, while you are UNDERWATER, looking up.
“Yeah… A day out of my life.” Jim says in a flat voice. “Luckily, I don’t have a life, so it does not matter where I sit, drink, and whine into the computer file. Back at Genesis 17, or in L.A. It is all the same to…”
Melekh really does not like when James allows the ego-programming to drag himself down too far, too deep, too dark.
“… It’s all the same to the old Bonzo, Melekh.” Jim finishes, and Melekh’s painful response is palpable, even as he is not even here physically.
“James…” Matushka appears in the doorway.
“I don’t have a life.” Jim adds. “Neither do you, my Lady.” He, then, bows to Matushka as she gasps.
James Kellspell, on the eve of filming of the documentary about his Initial Omega, laying in my arms. Her smell, her touch - what an incredibly heady feeling.
“I can’t stand when people say “time flies”. What the fuck do they mean? I feel like eveery minute bombards me with painful arrows, and every hour lasts as long as a century. Gosh… To get through the day is like to fight through fifty gladiators. I’m literally crucified on a week that feels like a sticky web. Endless sticky web that starts in my tendons and nerves and stretches me to the limit and beyond, ignoring my screams of pain.”
Kellspell turns his head and sticks his face into my stomach while his body rests on the bed. Truth be told, “rest” and James are mutually exclusive.
“I know you’re tired of my whining. And I know I was not forgotten… I love my life now. It’s all fine. Now that I know how to defeat the Stupid in its attempts to destabilize me and make me believe in non-existent threats… Now I’m the king of the hill.” Jim adds with a hint of satisfaction.
“No. Uncle Albert is the king of the hill.” I correct.
“And thanks God for that. We will help him for sure.” James agrees. “I feel like a beaten dog, Wallace… All the time. There is no end to this. No end…”
“You will be richly rewarded for your field work.” I assure him, running my hand trough his hair, and it is HER hair.
She is so beautiful. She hates her female avatar so much. I AM Jim’s bridge to his female avatar. Or, rather, my task, my function and my honour is to lead him into his female avatar when he is needed there.
He trusts his old “Quirky Nuts”. And boy, does that make me elated. Now that we are together, and I can help James, and he can lean on a trans who understands his needs and his issues, I feel that MY LIFE was not in vain. I feel that I can rest easy now.
“You will have Henry.” I add confidently. On Level 2 he is in my arms. On Level 1 he is on the plane to L.A., crying rivers at how short the project is going to be.
He says he feels like a man who was crawling on his knees across the desert for 40 years, and finally was given A DROP OF WATER. Maybe a few gulps.
Can’t do without it, he says.
And he cries into my stomach, as I get hard, and feel ashamed about it.
You will never regret serving Me, Melekh says all around us. This drop you cherish so, and do not want to let go - there will be more. This is just the FIRST drop. The rain is coming, my Love.
James sobs and nods, and sobs some more. Louder, quieter. He can sob for hours.
“Henry said his price was set at hundred million dollars. Even if he said that his price was only half a million dollars… I do not have a dime to my name, Wallace. HOW am I going to break Princess Henry out of her high tower, when the ENTRY FEE into the contest is hundred million dollars? I am sorry, did they send me an invitation by mistake?”
I see Christopher coming through behind the Spiral Staircase, and into the kitchen, where Matushka and Lady Anne are baking something smelling very tasty.
Christopher nods at me with a tormented smile. His face is tense and there are shadows of many a sleepless night over his eyes. Henry’s Personal Arkchil Operator has been through a wringer in the last 6 months, but we are not going into it right now.
Neither am I going to bring Jim’s attention to Christopher’s issues. Jim is not there today mentally.
He might say “his problems is nothing in comparison to mine. He got out, he is in Grace like pig in shit, and I’ll get thrown back to where I came from after this gig. The gig will only last for 2 days, will air in 6 months, and will get promptly forgotten. More so, I can’t believe these dumbasses are putting half a mil into this dead end project. Talking about box office bomb. But a bomb or not, after it I will taste another bucket of oblivion that will last for another year or so. Maybe more. JESUS, I feel like I can’t make another day without being heard, without contributing creatively… Wallace, what a deep torment.”
This is what he says every day, anyway. I want to remind him of patience, but feel that I don’t have the right.
Jim stops crying just to blow his nose into a napkin. “I have not seen the light of day in 20 years, and you’re telling me I will somehow have enough money to buy out HENRY CARLTON! How?!”
“Worry not about the money. Or “how”. You did not choose to enter the contest. You were invited.”
“Right, right.” Jim nods. “My point exactly. They made a mistake. They meant to invite someone who has actually achieved something in life.”
“God does not make mistakes.” I respond, watching Lady Anne coming out with a large hot teapot as Matushka cuts some roses from her garden to put on the table.
Matushka had two miscarriages in her life. She feels branded by it. Her and Dr. Michael adopted two children, and James always told her that in the eyes of the Russians she is a MOTHER, regardless of the fact that she did not give birth to these two children. Adopting kids is cool, James tried to comfort her.
But he can’t feel her pain. He also thinks that miscarriages is nothing in comparison with “being stuck in life”. She feels that, too. Here he has more compassion.
Who DOES NOT feel STUCK? Regardless of how much “Grace” Jim thinks I got in life, now it has just about trickled to a stop. And I have to live with it.
“Tea is in half an hour.” Lady Anne smiles at me. The middle finger on her right hand has now completely healed. And I know that Mr. Milgram feels awful about shooting her. “I thought it was Kellspell.” He said apologetically.
Jim loved that “Racoon Rocket” defence. Nothing Milgram does fazes Jim. He just favours Isaak.
“You OK?” I rise Jim’s head from my lap. “We’re going to have tea now.”
James nods and gets up, his head disheveled, his eyes swollen with tears.
The other day Henry cried into my shoulder for about the same duration. His eyes get red, but never swollen. He cried, because he loved James more than his life, he said. He is obsessed with James, he watches “Trials of James Kellspell” on Level 1 live, glued to his bridgeplate.
Dr. Michael comes down from his apartment via the Spiral Staircase. He is pleasant, polite, and he is joy to be around. But they’ve been going through issues with Matushka, and they weren’t sleeping together for at least a month. It had something to do with Matushka’s self-worth problems.
Jim was able to help brilliantly. He restored Matushka’s balance by inviting her inside of himself. She surrendered to him, and they became ONE. She was no longer “alone in a bubble of feeling worthless”.
After Matushka felt her inner strength again, she invited Dr. Michael back into her bed.
“5 pm - teatime, the British way.” Dr. Michael sings.
“The British way is cool, but the Russian way beats it. “Anytime is vodka time.” Jim chuckles, wiping away his tears and smoothing out his hair.
“You stink and you need to shave.” Dr. Michael whispers to Jim.
I know he was all that, but I did not have the heart to tell him.
James immediately disappears into the bathroom. Dr. Michael’s words is law to him. “He is my moral compass.” Kellspell says often.
Henry will be coming soon.
Three days ago Krotkie was brought back on the set - he was an adult wolf again.
James was elated, rubbed and scratched his wiggling, happy teacher. Then he sniffed Krotkie’s butt. Henry joined, and they united Lierance Triage style.
“I will be landing in half an hour on Level 1, and I did not bring nearly enough alcohol.” James says slowly to me. “If there is none for sale at the hotel, I might have to go up and down the street looking for a liquor store, which is not desirable. But may be necessary. Please pray I find a bottle tonight.”
And I pray. Because I love James.
James Kellspell: The reason the kerfuffle with Mr. H (on the Hammersmith project) happened was because I simply wanted more of what felt so good. I saw nothing but non-stop beatings my entire life (40 years, guys!), and suddenly a creative opportunity came my way. And it was going to be gone just as fast. I grabbed the hand that gave it to me and I begged for more. Then knew that it was pointless. I made a scene, for which I’m deeply sorry, but it changes nothing for me.”
I have to come to his rescue.
“Melekh knows you are thirsty for creative work. It will happen, Jim.”
“I am ok with my life now, Wallace, thank you for your support.” James leans on my shoulder heavily. “By now I’m used to the beatings, I have learned ways to minimize the impact, and H.M. is not nearly as vicious as he used to be. Whatever happens next, I have been securely protected from experiencing any dumb nostalgia. At the very least, this is what I have achieved.”
“You will be credited for a lot more than that.” I notice with encouragement.
James Kellspell: My task is to tune out the voice of the machine. This way I can hear the Voice of the Original Source.
Tuning out MY OWN voice recorded on the machine ADMITS that I was wrong programming it to try and direct myself in the sleeping state to “live separately from Father”.
M
Once I’m on the Path towards My Father, I will be in less and less pain CAUSED BY THE INSTRUCTION OF THE MACHINE to “not waste time on love”. Once I am firmly on the path to CHERISH AND LISTEN to my CHOSEN LOVE
James Kellspell: “Freedom is another word for “unaffiliated”. I’m done being unaffiliated. I surrendered five years ago, but today I made one more step towards God. And that is why I was rewarded with the good news. I’m now, finally, a part of a BIG project and a BIG family. This Project will not end, and my Family will never reject me.”
Sheba Reddington: James, is it because you know you will never have “your own show”? You settled for a part in someone else’s show? Those realise they will never obtain freedom often call it sour grapes.
Oh, the inspired James just got deflated like a punched balloon. Did I miss Sheba and her sharp sarcasm? Yes. Do I enjoy her poignant writing style as Arkchil Operator? Yes. Do I enjoy watching her use it on James? Maybe not. It cuts deep. And not just James.
Jim now takes a deep breath.
“I’m SEPARATED from the machine.
The machine is SILENCED
I can no longer hear its advice, directed ONLY to drive me into more pain.
The machine has no right to say ANYTHING.
The machine’s threats are EMPTY, because the machine cannot follow through on them.
I am NOT surrounded by the “gray area populated by weird hostile third forces that can hurt you if you do not do what I say.”
This picture is ONLY for a mind that is sleeping and separated from God.
I am not that mind anymore.
I WOKE UP and I see that what threatens me is a tape recorder.
I WOKE UP surrounded by Father, who LOVES ME, has ALWAYS LOVED ME and wants to give me EVERYTHING I ever wanted.
There is no shame in going back to God.
Three is no pain in going back to God.
At the Table of God you only have Love, Appreciation, Rapture.
;Only at the table of the ego are you forced to consume pain and shame.
Please join me!”
That was a pretty spirited speech!
Leonard just brought five more bottles of whiskey. It is Level 2. If we end up having alcohol poisoning - no biggie. All Arkabins are trained as medical doctors. Also, architects, generals, musicans, physicists, chemists - anything you want. They are the hands of their “rightful owners”, the Grehedis.
“Is this the part where they drag you away to get euthanised?”
This is, obviously, Sheba. After a three month hiatus (and a honeymoon with David Reddington), she is back to be with us. I am still the official Arkchil Operator for Regent Kellspell, but Sheba can comment what she wants when she wants. And I will let her, because she is so incredibly funny with this deep-penetrating sarcasm that can’t be copied, only envied.
Like just now. No one would admit to us that THIS IS THE END that Jim will meet on Andromeda. And here she is, yelling it out in front of everyone. Matushka told me that if Sheba gets any funnier she’d have to get diapers!
James Kellspell:
Ego is programmed to bunch up the fabric of YOU.
Father is here to STRAIGHTEN YOU UP
Father’s Touch will NEVER hurt.
The biggest lie of the ego is that God causes you pain.
Only and ever “your” ego causes you pain.
But you are drunk, unable to see Father, therefore know The Truth
FEAR is a non-existent substance - NES-f poison. Not my drug of choice, but some people watch “scary movies”.
FEAR is an INCORRECT protocol.
How incorrect? Because it does not exist.”
“Mr. Kellspell, can you not go so fast?” An Estelian woman from the crowd raised her long lovely hand. Her korneus clicking loud.
“Obvious things! But for my lady…” Jim bows. “Anyway, FEAr does not exist, because the BASE of the spell is rooted in ONE INCORRECT protocol:
“YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY GRAY SPACE WITH THIRD HOSTILE FORCES. THEY WILL HURT YOUI IF YOU DO NOT LISTEN TO ME.”
That’s why.”
“How is this protocol incorrect? Mr. Kellspell, what are you talking about?”
I found a patch for fear, that’s what I’m talking about.”
The crowd erupted.
“Yes, bitches. I found a way to turn off fear.”
“Loyalty of a soldier to his commander removes quite a bit of fear.” A really tall Arkabin with a badge of St. Merelion noted.
“Yes! Yes, sir. Very happy to see a rep from Mesmerix
“IF you WAKE UP to the fact that WE ARE SURROUNDED BY GOD,
How are we supposed to do that?
“The more you communicate the closer you feel, true?
Yes.
Well, here you go: Shorten the distance between yourself and God, and there is simply no room for GRAY SPACE, the BASIS for the FEAR protocol.”
James Kellspell: We do not do anything QUICKLY.
The less time you have the more you tend to rely on your instinct, therefore hand your life to the ego. Ego is instinct.
Instinct is doing something bypassing thinking, because it takes time.
But all it does is SPEEDS UP A PROTOCOL that is supposed to work.
For example: A herd of deer hears some branches crunched in the woods and they break into a run, following the EXACT protocol I just mentioned.
They RELY on INSTINCT. Instinct is a CHAIN of thinking shrunk to just ONE action.
In other words, their thinking is shrunk to “SOUND-DANGER-FEAR-ESCAPE”.
How does the protocol sound normally, to someone who is not THAT MUCH JACKED UP ON FEAR? “Sound-see what’s there-determine if it is dangerous-probably not-if yes - how- if no - relax. Then you work on “if yes-how” chain, and normally, as YOU are not WILDLIFE at the bottom of the food chain, you do not need to run every time you hear crunching of branches in the woods. Or footsteps in the hall.
What do you see here? If the creature is on the bottom of the food chain, their brain is soaked in fear. You are NOT a creature “at the bottom of the food chain”. Then why the heck all your brains are steeped in fear like a teabag in the cup?”
James Kellspell: This is what I’m upset about…
Prince Moretr: No, James, this is ego-speak.
James Kellspell: Right. OK, Translating into the Language of Love. We do not talk through the ego-prism. I am inserting Loyalty-Honor-Service Prism, and I will talk trough it. Why? Because I love Henry. I want to make him happy. I can make him happy if I make Tigress happy. Tigress is happy when Uncle Albert is happy. Uncle Albert wants me to work off Loyalty-Honor-Service Platform. This is the only way to jump off the carousel, driven by the Stupid ego.
I do not want to look STUPID in front of Henry. In fact, I looked stupid enough already, when I had my own “insult the executive producer” incident. Pouring heresay, acting on rotten intel, what a rookie mistake.
Prince Moretr: Enough of beating yourself up, James. Melekh will have a job for you that will blow your socks off.
James Kellspell: Thank you.
Prince Moretr: Please wake up from the poison-induced state of being “abandoned and your talents unused”. Soon they will be so used your head will spin. Soo, four decades of dedication will pay off.
James Kellspell: Jeez, thanks. I feel like a giant who is given kids toys to play with. I can do more useful things than that.
Prince Moretr: You are our darling. We appreciate that you woke up to a long line of duties we will saddle you with.
James Kellspell: I will do anything for Henry (copy H.M.)!
Prince Moretr: We will have Henry ready for you. Very well, then. You will never feel caged creatively, ever again. Not on my stage.
Sheba of Salem:
THIS IS FOR MY BIRTHDAY:
I am back narrating, as we temporarily must revert to
“Beautiful Prisoner”. My favorite, yes.
Begrudgingly, I take off my new identity as: Sheba Reddington,
and I must go back in time to my former self, Samuel of Salem.
I am re-joining the Emerald Filament Team with renewed strength, now married to the best man in the world, my beloved David.
BEAUTIFUL PRISONER ENRICHED:
James Kellspell:
“Boring” and “waste of time” are ego’s tools to direct you.
When the ego tells you “this activity is a waste of time”, you, trusting it implicitly like the drunk idiot that i am, immediately lose interest in it.
It happens because you do not have any independent opinion between yourself and “your” ego.
Then, it only took the ego about two thousand years to dismantle your faith in Ten Commandments.
Now, broken away from God, you are the obedient slave of “your” ego.
With these very tools - only TWO repellant spellwords - "boring" and "waste of time", it now can direct you towards ONLY self-interest, in worst cases making its victim (you) see love as "waste of time", and God as "boring subject".
And here you are - completely alone, unprotected in front of "your" ego, left with no other choice but to follow its orders.
All this goes not just for us. For the Andromedans, too. This goes for the whole Universe.
Now, if you excuse me, i need to attend to Henry (copy H.M.). He just left me a message. My boy is crying! He needs his Daddy!"
With that, James jumps off the bed and runs into Lord Carlton’s Royal Chambers.
In his Covenant Henry wrote:
“I am bleeding deeply. Would you love me for who I am, and not for who you think I should be?”
“How CAN I judge his suffering soul after that?
Jim Kellspell:
“People talk about seasons, and foods they eat. I sit there, listen to them, and I know that for me there is only one season. Winter, summer, fall, even spring - it is all one season of suffering to me.”
Broadcasted Statement:
I pick up Signal LHS (Filters: Loyalty/Honor/Service) from SeaRock Bridgeplate ONLY.
This locks out the machine.
But then watch out for “falling asleep” and
Forgetting to pick up from the RIGHT SOURCE.
;The more time I spend together with Father - the closer we get.
SPEND TIME ONLY WITH FATHER.
My Oculum MUST NOT be wandering. Once it is “ASLEEP”, it will pick up the images that will upset it, and the ego will subserviently misinterpret the images as those that “hurt” you in any way.
Signal LHS - Filters were installed into the bridgeplate for me to “pick up from”. In other words:
I must continue the action if it fits within the LHS Filter
I must STOP the action immediately if it DOES NOT fit the LHS Filter.
What does it mean? For example i “fell asleep” and picked up an image that the ego misinterpreted as “hurtful”. I give in to that and SHOOT UP the NES-sp poison (self-pity). It hurts. The ego says - I can’t help you here! This is what the situation calls for! You were abandoned\forgotten, so you MUST shoot up the poison of NES-sp! It will be easier to take the fact that God gave good stuff to OTHERS, and not you!
And I do! I inhale that ego-garbage, because I am asleep and immature!
Sheep are in manure,
And Jim is asleep and immature.”
Wallace Smith: I’m going to pee my pants.
Sheba Reddington: It’s nice to be back on the Emerald Filament Team. If only just part-time.
Done laughing, we continue listening to Jim, as he walks across the Mood Rug there and back. It flashes red, but not nearly as blinding as, for example, yesterday.
“So, I must ALWAYS pick up Signal LHS from SeaRock Bridgeplate.
This leaves the machine OUT of the circle.
Thusly, I create the NEW, HEALTHY circle between myself, my Lady Tigress and Uncle Albert, who is connected to Father.
When the machine inquires as to why I left it out,
I respond: “TAK NADO”
This shuts up the machine. As IT IS PROGRAMMED to tell me that, therefore it understands, that
“SOME THIRD FORCE STRONGER THAN YOU HAS ORDERED IT THIS WAY.”
Reg.James Kellspell: “When the girl comes up at you crying, you do not cry with her. When the same girl runs at you, threatening and hitting you with her little fists - you know that this girl is H.M., spun out on what he heard from “his” ego about me. Well, I am in control. I am Awake. He is not. I ignore his threats, dismiss his despicable behaviour, and I calm him down, so he does not feel so alone being bullied by “his” ego.
Wallace Smith: “Wow, NOT what “your” ego wants you to say to him. It wants you to say (with deep anger): You hurt me, and I will find a way to hurt you!” (Ego further advises to throw something at him with anger for turning off your water in the garden. What? He does not even want to share WATER?”
James Kellspell: Oh, it is because ego-device is sadly misprogrammed. It is not programmed to know that H.M. is a Finger Of God. And only a mindless machine can advise me to hit Father’s Finger with a hammer of ego-generated negative emotions.
Wallace Smith, playing for “ego-advice”: Then how do you get out of the pain H.M. caused you with his disrespect? If you let him do this, he will do it again, and hurt you again. What are you going to do then? Haven’t you had enough from him?
James Kellspell: Oh, excuse me, misprogrammed ego-program, first, H.M. did not do anything. He is being held hostage by YOU. We are One Body listening to the SAME friggin’ taperecorder. So, he is spun out on poison he took because the ego told him to take it. And now, he sees me through the prism the ego gave him, and THIS IS what makes him angry.
Wallace Smith: I see the machine being VERY CONFUSED, but still trying to swim out on top. It stirs at the mention of anger: That’s right! He is ANGRY at you! He is a bad man, then! Hurt him like he hurts you?
Reg.James Kellspell: Wallace, I can’t seriously talk to the insane feverish recording of my own voice. Especially when Father is right in front of me. But the last thing I will explain is that “Anger” is only a mask/notion that hides the TRUE meaning of this word. “Anger” translates as “being totally misguided, unable to hear the Voice of God.” Well, why the heck would I attack someone who is blind, misguided and drunk on ego-poisons?
Wallace Smith: Excellent. You shut it up. Now it is too confused to be able to get out with the same BS. It can’t find heads or tails of your reasoning to attach “pain”. Your reasoning does not allow it to urge you to take poisons. Pain comes only if you agree with the ego that “you must inject poison” DUE TO THE FACT THAT YOU NEED TO MEET ANGER WITH ANGER. Or, if the ego determines (by your emotions), that you ere hurt, it will prescribe you to inject the poison of “grudge”, or “anger”.
RegJames Kellspell: And when you inject and hurt even more, and you turn to the ego to confront it - what kind of a doctor are you? The ego says with a lot of authority: ‘Ahem, THEY hurt you. I advised you to inject the poison of grudge/anger, so you could have weapons to fight them. What do you expect me to do? Advise you to kiss them?” And you walk away, defeated by ego’s logic!
James Kellspell: Truly so, my love. And you know, why? Because your UPLINK to GOD is disabled. It happened when the ego told you that “love is a waste of time”, and “God is boring”, and you agreed with it! NOW, when you are hurt - you have no Love and no God to protect you. That is why you agree with the ego that “if he said this to you and upset you - your tools are anger and frustration, and a desire to hurt him back”. But if you REMEMBER YOUR UPLINK TO GOD, and USE it, Father will answer you - the above decoded Message.
James Kellspell:
“Don’t put too much make up, you look like racoon! Don’t talk about pain! It’s the third time you mentioned it in the shower right now!”
But fuck, my Prince, what was I supposed to do? Be SILENT? H.M. started a conversation about Al’s dumb ex-girlfriend Julienne, squatting in the apartments, getting evicted and all that jazz. I said - SHE IS IN A LOT OF PAIN. Then he talks about John Castle, who used to take Jerry Pabst’s truck without permission, so he started locking It up. I said - it is because John castle is in tremendous amount of pain - he is subconsciously trying to “break out” of the cell in his head. That is why he enters our house without knocking, either.”
“That’s the third time you mentioned PAIN as we are in this shower!” He berated me.
;What am I supposed to do? I HAD to have a conversation with him! He talked about all these people. I told him - they are doing it because they’re in pain, weak, guided by “their” ego. And he shut me up like I was a school child who knows nothing of what they talk about. Why is he hurting me like that?”
“I can help him with this one.” Dr. Michael nods calmly. “H.M. is not hurting you. “Your” ego is hurting you by MIS-interpreting what is happening, James.”
“Really? How so? His words make me put on even more make up, and talk even more about pain!!!”
“Your” ego makes you do that. So you are in even more pain.”
’
“You are hurting yourself by agreeing with the incorrect logic of the machine.” Dr. Michael starts a cigarette.
“Well, that is why I wish there was something ELSE in my life besides tedious work on sequencing the right Code for the Pearly Gates.”
“There will be, James. Very soon.” Michael opens the sliding door and exhales the smoke, while studying the landscape, focusing on his wife’s roses on the lawn by the wall.
“Thank you. Sometimes I feel, like, literally, there is no Grace for me, while I work so hard supplying it to everyone!”
“It is only temporary. Do not rely on the misinterpretation of the dumb machine. Be bigger, better, more aware than that.”
“Dr. Michael, this is excellent advice, please continue. You know how many times I regretted the fact that you were straight? I stood there, over your bed, and thought; look at this most handsome man. This barreled chest, these lovely muscular arms... such a righteous man, too. His only shortcoming is that he is straight!”
“You broke into my apartment With a purpose to commit sexual assault on me!”
So you DO need a root canal
The ego says - oh! We have to go deep into the dark pit of fear!
WHY?
If the girl comes to you crying you do not sit down with her and cry
Do not let a program with a mind of a three year old to GUIDE THE CHILD OF GOD!
So, when the crazy girl comes running and CRYING, we ignore it. It is only a figment if my imagination, born out of the voice on the taperecorder.
When the crazy girl with an IQ 14 runs out at you SCREAMING IN FEAR, we dismiss it.
You have programmed a device to make you inject the poisons of self-pity, anger, fear, impatience - based on ROTTEN INTEL, concocted by the ego-program.”
“I’m so sorry I screwed it up. with the Hammersmith project. Now I see how I loaded the ego-device myself, and then it itches, it “orders” for me to topple his bucket of bullshit on the unsuspecting Ian. Not that they were going to hire me or anything. But I feel awful because of my breakdown.” Jim sighs.
“I have already fixed it.” Moretr watches his bridgeplate.
“Oh… I wish I had your understanding of time. Right now it feels like there will be ages between projects. I know, and You are telling me that my talents will not go to waste. But my desire to perform is so incredibly high.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
“Yes!” Jim nods. “Finally, this statement no longer pusses me off. At least I KNOW WHY it used to puss me off. Because I inserted the twisted ego-programming right in the middle of Your Precious Oculum.”
“Just about.”
From Jim Kellspell’s lectures:
“If you PRACTICE Love
You will receive Love
If you practice poison,
You will receive poison.
(Keep the right tank CLEAR at all times,
maintain 60 mph wind speed there at all times)
You WANT to practice love. However, as soon as you’re done reading this, the EGO will force you to practice hate. HOW? It is going to say: Oh, you are in pain? You got hurt by these people/circumstances? Then how can you possibly listen to God?
What He says is not for you, or ABOUT you, the ego adds. You are in too much pain to “practice love”. You HAVE TO practice poison. Go yell at your parents/kids/spouse. There’s got to be a reason. Or, wait a few, and you WILL get yelled at by your spouse/boss/parent. They will find a reason!
In other words, HOW can we practice love when we’re surrounded by hate? Sorry, THAT was a mistake in thinking. We’re surrounded by GOD. But we are asleep to His Face. To make matters worse, in our sleeping state we can’t even understand that this whole scene is the ego-controlled setup. And the only way to step out of ego-control is INTO GOD.”
This was recorded yesterday, in this bedroom. After yet another violent incident, now involving Mr. H, the “Lost Man”, James is not even allowed on the lawn.
“Let’s see.” He continues, pulling up the “The Segment”. The only segment you will ever need to Wake Up.
Marker/Action INSTEAD of listening to the ego:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15 : interrupts ego-connection by Loyalty to Father
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40: ETERNAL Link
45: Interrupts ego-connection by Loyalty to Father
57:
00: Service.”
And at marker 17 I receive “get hurt\despondent” from the ego-program.
So, the machine ORDERS me (or, reminds me), that I must now shoot up the poison, sop that the last happiness could be removed from my life.
I dismiss the request to “get hurt\despondent”. I KNOW it’s the machine. But, also, I AM WITH GOD, and THAT IS WHY the reasons for me to be hurt and despondent are ALREADY BEING DEALT WITH.
I had a psychotic attack, I deeply insulted people that are VERY important to Henry, and I feel like crap, I do. I acted on rotten intel when I attacked Mr. H. I can’t take it back, by behaviour cannot be “unseen”, but I CAN get in front of Henry, and swear on my mother, father, and the Periodic Table of Elements, that I will NEVER let the Stupid push me into conflict based on such dumb shit as rotten intel from H.M. who picks up just about anything he finds. Why would I listen to him?!
But there is something more sinister going on here. The ego ACTS like your friend, and it THINKs that it is your friend. However, its advice is PROGRAMMED to turn you into the Tool of Pain.
YOU injected the corrupt programming into your own system before you fell asleep. Now, in your deep dream state you BELIEVE that you have a solid reason to ACT in negative, hurtful ways.
“Devil Wears Prada”, Anna Wintour. The classic example of “Ego’s Tool Of Pain”. The woman was in so much pain, she literally shed it on others without, possibly, ever realising how much she hurt everyone around.
I am well on that path. The smartest of us make the sharpest Instruments of Pain. What does not kill us makes us stronger, yes. However, what does not kill us also makes us angrier, if we misread the lessons life. And without God it is IMPOSSIBLE for us to read those lessons correctly. The ego will keep on inserting itself to “open up” the package with the lesson INCORRECTLY.
Once you wake up to THIS truth, you will KNOW where NOT TO GO. Rather, we all know that. Now you will also know WHY.
How did I wake up to this truth? Henry is always very truthful. I hurt him greatly with my last psychotic attack. He is terrified of things I do and say to people during those mental breakdowns.”
James falls silent as the Arkchils continue to watch him with their all-remembering eyes.
“After what I did, Henry would shudder every time I touch him. I saw fear in his eyes. I knew I had to change. Only with God can you change.” James breaks down and cries.
I am not allowed to come and comfort him. He is in the middle of a lecture being recorded by every main broadcasting hub in Virgo Cluster.
“I have a sore tooth, up, right, the last one here…” James points to his upper jaw. “And where I am, the line to get to the dentist is, like, two weeks. I’d probably have to call every clinic I know and declare an emergency just to have it looked at by Tuesday.”
Just when I said how official this all has to look, because we’re being recorded…
“I used to be scared to pieces about my dental issues… It’s not funny, you guys.”
James is so intensely psychic that he can hear the audience laugh through his lecture in every corner of space. They love him. The audience does not mean to disrespect him. They laugh because he is funny. And deeply sincere.
To James - this is not a “filming set”. The ridiculous amounts of money that is being made by Eridani Industries on “Emerald Filament” project is never a factor to influence his reasoning.
“And now I am on 400 mg Ibuprofen just to get me through the weekend, and I don’t care about it. All I care about is make sure that I do not hurt my Henry. He needs a reliable Daddy. Not a psychotic Daddy.”
James, then, falls silent and cries quietly, having forgotten about the Arkchils, and the audience, and his lecture.
The audience, however, is breathless, for they see his true feelings. The only time we can see the true feelings of our mates on Emerald Filament Project is when they sit on the Mood Rug. And, personally, I have zero desire to do that unless ordered.
But James does not care. He can get naked anywhere, anytime. Physically, emotionally - you name it.
So he is sitting there, crying, whispering “Henry, please do not be afraid of your Daddy… Henry, my tender boy, I see fear in your eyes… I love you. I want you more than anything in my entire life (copy H.M.). I know I hurt you. I want to forever learn not to go where the Stupid tells me to go. I was a slave of “my” ego, and that is why I hurt my sweet tender boy…. Lord Carlton, please… I know I do not deserve you, and your purity, and your loyalty, and I have portrayed you negatively so many times, because I misunderstood you… It is because I saw you through the prisms, offered by the ego-program… Henry, I want to start a new life with you. Our families together. Our three sons together. I will buy you any property you want in London, Henry… Just please, forgive me. And… I will make it up to you. I know I hurt your sweet little heart. You talk big, but deep down inside you are my little boy, longing to belong to his unworthy, abusive Daddy…. Jesus, how did I wake up in this role? How crazy is this? Why am I hurting my boy?”
A masked striped Arkabin of the Yanaris hands James a handkerchief with Prince Moretr’s monogram on it in active rainbow.
“Honestly? What happened to paper tissues?” James sniffles and takes the handkerchief.
“My lawful ruler wishes for you to use this.” The Arkabin replies very matter-of-factly. He is masked because of filming. Some Yanaris are so rare and expensive that they are not allowed to show their faces. Obviously, Prince Moretr breeds his own variety, which is, see above.
“Yeah, guys, this is what awaits us on MEOL. Here he is our buddy, but THERE he is the Lawful Ruler.” James comments, inhaling neurotoxin off the handkerchief. They sneaked a painkiller to stop him from going hysterical during the recording. James can detect the smell of it, and he welcomes a great, unobtrusive way to help his emotions. “Lawful Ruler”… I kid you not, homies. Where is Henry, anyway? Neurotoxin is cool, but can I have my Henry?”
“Please finish the lecture, Mr. Kellspell.” The Arkabin advises. “Ten more minutes and we will put you back into your cozy kennel with your fuzzy mates.”
“I have lost my train of thought!” James sighs and blows his nose into the handkerchief. “Here! Give this to your lawful ruler!”
It is funny to us, but not to the Arkabins.
The handkerchief is immediately taken away by the Arkabin on duty, and placed into a baggy. Everything that comes from the Prophet and his mates is preserved and analysed to be developed and copied. You know why? James can SEE God with his waking eyes. If they can replicate THAT, they can save their galaxy from the war, and they can help slow down the expansion of the Universe.
For sure the Andromedans (read: the Grehedis) would love to get back into the International Community’s good graces again. If Moretr’s plan works, he can patch the political bridges by introducing the doctrine that works.
IF Moretr can replicate the mutation that keeps James Kellspell Awake in obscene amounts of ego-poison meant to render you unconscious to everything God.
The handkerchief is taken away, and a little wooden toy train is given to James. The Arkabin hands it to Jim on the palm of his large hand.
James smiles and takes the train. As his fingers touch the Arkabin’s hand, the Arkabin projects Jim’s innermost feelings much like a microphone would amplify your voice. He projects it in colours around himself.
Red and rusty-brown flash off and away from the Arkabin, like protuberances on the sun. He says the coordinates for the record. Everything “James Kellspell” is watched, recorded and safely guarded.
He is the result of nine hundred million years of preparation for Awakening. Nine hundred million years, and we can’t screw it up now.
“The train of thought…. Tu-tuuuu” James pulls the multicoloured train across Krotkie’s blanket. “The train of thought” is here… But I am so emotionally hit right now. Between my tooth and what I did to Henry, my abusive nature revealed in that one scene. So grateful for the truth. But, exhausted, and longing to turn the page on my shame.”
“Take a breath, Mr. Kellspell. Say goodbye to the audience. Everyone loves you. Folks will pray that you get an early appointment to the dentist. And, when you are finally brought to our homeland, you will be injected with a parasite that will solve all your physical pain.”
“I know, Sazarn 230.” James smiles.
The Arkabins in the background release a noise that can be translated as laugh.
“What?” Jim says under his breath, having already pulled up his bridgeplate to send a message to Henry. He’s got a new one - dark, light and burnt blue. A gift from Dr. Michael.
“We can do better than Sazarn 230.” The masked Arkabin responds.
Chapter 131:
YOUR CORRECT CONTROL PANEL SETTINGS:
@ Set up signal for “RECEIVING” (FROM FATHER)
This is the MOST IMPORTANT wire that got silenced by the machine’s INCORRECT ADVICE (it discredits Father in your eyes, thus preventing you from exercising the “LISTENING MUSCLE”)
@ Pull up Loyalty-Honor-Service bridgeplate:
@ FLUSH the ego-messages from the transparent tube to your right.
DO NOT READ THEM.
MORNINGS ARE TOUGH because you wake up to a whole bunch of NEGATIVE MESSAGES ABOUT YOUR LIFE that got generated overnight by the Stupid, using YOUR INTENTIONALLY TWISTED PROTOCOLS - the machine uses it to weave 10% truth into 90% poisonous lies.
You read and absorb that - you just screwed your little head for the whole day.
@ Make sure you set “BROADCASTING”
to “only three words at a time”,
3-6 breaths before you give any answer
THIS WILL PREVENT ANY ARGUMENT THAT THE EGO WILL PUSH YOU TO HAVE.
The ego orders you to defend stuff verbally - you tell it you are not allowed enough words.
Peace instead of hot water
I am not a “separate critter” (THIS DISTORTION IS THE CAUSE OF ALL PAIN).
I am my Father’s Tool. (THIS means I need not worry about physical issues ever again - He takes care of that).
Suffering is a job and a Gift (it is only temporary)
“This is what you gave me:
The Golden Staircase to Heaven, step by step (grips to the clock):
(The base of namaz is rakaat/five fards)
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15 : interrupts ego-connection by Loyalty to Father
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40: ETERNAL Link
45: Interrupts ego-connection by Loyalty to Father
57:
00:
OK, but what do I put at “40 mins” to make myself feel HAPPY? Needed? Wanted? Sought after? What do I see, listen to? How does this grip help me not get flushed away by the incorrect reasoning?”
From Jim’s convo with Moretr on how to avoid psychotic attacks. We are working on that.
SAFETY TIME NET
(How To Break Out Of The “Ego-Bubble”, in which it has power over My Child. Once you break out - you no longer need to be unhappy. Unhappiness is only INSIDE of the Bubble. The bubble is surrounded by Me - giving Light, Love, happiness)
It depends on WHERE you fall (as you are collapsing out of control into the net - the point of entry into the Net:
Supposedly, you fell at
33
NOW, you are IN.
Next segment: How much of tat time can you dedicate to communicate with Me?
For example, you can give me 2 minutes (I can see that based on data collected during the last 14 moons.
Here is our conversation during those two minutes:
* Make sure to extend your care outside of your “bubble”: H.M. wellbeing
It also depends on WHERE you fall in terms of the LifeLine:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45:
57:
00:
For example, between 30 and 40 -
Supposedly, we just had a connection 27-30
It depends on WHY you fell: For example, due to
Fear - Health
Annoyance - Impatience
Eventually, we are going to capture you within the 3D model, and help you resist the Negative Protocol Impact - this is what happens, this is what causes your fall -
You short-circuit, like this:
The machine says stuff all the time.
But, suddenly, you LISTEN to it.
SUPPOSEDLY you are at 45 and feeling weak. Watch:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45: FEELING WEAK
57:
00:
See the gap? This is your way out.
The Sign from Me says:
THIS IS TEMPORARY
NO NEED TO INJECT POISONS OF ANGER, IMPATIENCE, ANNOYANCE:
( jump here).
Why could not you see this obvious sign before? Because the ego distracts your attention from it, AND if you bring it up, it says: “you know nothing about God! He is mad at you/ He is not here/ He abandoned you before - therefore, do not expect miracles - you are on your own.
Well, heck, with your UPLINK TO GOD suppressed and ignored (instead of listening to God you are talking to “your” ego), HOW CAN I TELL YOU - PLEASE LOOK AT THE SIGN AGAIN. Due to time difference I will get to you, but in the next segment. Meanwhile, I’m working on helping you through.
Ego HEARS that, and YOU hear that, but it snatches the broadcast, and translates it to you like this: God is not here! You are crazy, that’s what you hear!
And you BELIEVE THIS AGAIN, making another turn away from Me.
And when you are in so much cold and pain that you can’t take it anymore, the ego says - oh, God is to blame for your misfortune!
How can you blame me, my love, w hen I am standing right in front of you, asking you to wake up from a very cold, sad dream where I’m not to love and protect you?
How long are you going to continue believing tis nonsense? Where are you now?
“Oh, well, I have shifted to 50.”
“Good. Look up, what is going on at 50?”
“7 minutes. Could be spent studying 2 images.”
“See? I will make your life so busy you will not know where the year went!”
“I wish that would happen to me, if only once. I feel like I’m stuck in the sticky web of time, my Prince, honestly… Time drags on, and it is filled with so much pain and fear… Every minute is filled with poison, one or another…”
“Every cell of your time-hexagon is filled with poison. Got it. I have medicine for you. Watch:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45:
57:
00:
“I’m at 1st image of my new, freshly-assembled set of Bridgeplates to choose from! Why? So that I am able to control myself and my life without relying on ego-protocols.”
“Good job, James.”
Silicone-based Interface
(Your Bridgeplate Matrix)
How to find strength to do your responsibility:
Whatever you hear from the Stupid, you leave.
You come inside. You tell Me.
I tell you whether you should worry about it or not.
If it is giving you info mixed with FEAR, that info is a LIE by definition.
Discard right away.
Do not bring your Oculum to look at it.
It is a “gift” from yourself when you were under the influence of a mix of wrong protocols.
Once you see how these protocols are created, you will get your ability to know right from wrong.
“OK, what else it is giving you now that you KNOW what urges mean what protocol and why you are in pain?”
“I’m in pain because I inject myself with the poisons the ego tells me to inject. For example - something did not go my way - I come to the ego, and it says: there is nothing i can do! I must punish you for these bad news! You must inject yourself with a full syringe of DISAPPOINTMENT!”.
“This is exactly the convo that is happening in your head so fast that you don not know. Next thing you DO know is that the poison hurts a lot, you KNEW it was going to happen, you are in A LOT OF PAIN, And you want to know who is responsible. When you come to the ego with this question, it says….”
“GOD IS RESPONSIBLE for your pain!” James roars hoarsely, and Henry on the bed jerks with his entire body. He really managed to fall asleep in the havoc Jom’s performance usually creates. In today’s class with Prince Moretr Jim as asked to act quite a bit.
“Yes!” Moretr nods. And if you think you are alone, get this. For the first 20 million years of my life I thought that God was responsible for all the problems in my life. I blamed Him for my Mother’s break up with my grandfather, I blamed him for the end of the Anlor games where people, dear and close to me went to prison when they did not have to, and… Saadat’s death, James, do you know anything about that?”
“Yeah…” Jim’s face gets very sad, and he takes the blanket to cover Henry with it. He, then, sticks his hand between Henry’s shoulder and the blanket to make sure that Henry is not too warm or too hot. “Copy H.M.” he whispers a connection.
If James does not want to explain anything, you can wait all day, and all you’ll get is “yeah”.
“Jim, can you briefly tell us all who Saadat is and why a sentient being like Prince Moretr would be so distraught over an event that only took 400 years to develop?”
That, I know. It’s all about Monolith Project. But I desperately need him to fill in man memory.
“Uh… In as few words as possible…” James moves away from Henry, but begrudgingly so. All he wants right now is to climb under the blanket with Henry, smell the back of Henry’s neck, and purr, and push his dick into Henry’s butt. But… “Saadat was Gina Yasmin’s Arkabin son. He studied under the Sheiredis, because Gina wanted to fix it with her cousins and stuff…” James drifts off, staring at the back of Henry’s head. He longs for Henry, but can’t approach him when he talks.
Jim heats up and becomes too “radioactive” to be touched. He knows it, and he watches out for it, not to hurt his mates. Or anyone at all for that matter.
“And, so, basically… jeez I can’t handle how lonely and empty I get when I look at Saadat’s grave.”
James speaks like a true clairvoyant. He SEES other people’s memories. And if you were found by him to be crying on the grave of a brother who was executed by your mother, then Jim will crash and cry with you.
“And so, basically.” Moretr raises his head. “My brother wanted to give the Sheiredis a place to live, and he smuggled a layer of young generation to a planet called Momolith. The gravity there would be about twice that of Earth, so they could fly there. And he did that with the support of many interested sides, of course. No one person could pull off such a stunt. Fast forward 400 years of everyone looking the other way, and the Sheiredis tripled in size. Gina Yasmin was hard pressed by the fearful Grehedi to “do something about it.” She wanted to just bring the Sheiredis back, stick them where they belong, in the Catacombs, and forget about it. But there was trigger-happy General Kulat, who had huge influence on her at the time, and then she was blamed for the unrest on Mesmerix, and , of course, the rest of the Kloritahan System gave her the middle finger.”
Moretr breaks up.
James sighs and comes to his aid. “And so, then, Kulat, who licked Leot’s ass all day long (and they have really long 36-hr Standard Andromedan days there), bugged Leot until Leot’s fears about the Sheiredis were more than the old fart could handle. One thing came to another, and Liberation Front was blamed for killing every single one of the Sheiredis on the planet. Ten thousand souls, or so. Prince Moretr’s wife’s relatives all died there. Just about all Dachurov Branch of the Sheiredis.”
“You can twist this any way you want, but at the end of the day my Holy Mother was blamed for the genocide against the Sheiredis.” Moretr rubs his face with his elongated fingers, now in waves of translucent blue.
“At the end of the day your “Holy” Mother took out your brother.” James quips, and then bites his lip. He is tremendously grateful to Prince Moretr for sponsoring the Emerald Filament Show, and for lobbying to get them to MEOL, but he also lived on Andromeda, and he has all these political opinions.
“At the end of the day, James, you were brainwashed by Leot-controlled media, who only and ever presented my Holy Mother in a negative light.” Moretr’s Bridgeplate lights up in bright brown at the edges, if at all possible to describe. He’s got, like, half a galaxy under his control. He used to be a pariah, but after his Holy Mother’s death he was elevated to, possibly, the highest position in Leot’s Government.
It is this position he is risking helping the Sheiredis to pull off the Arrival of the Prophet.
“At the end of the day, my Prince, I died on your Mother’s ship.”
“At thee end of the day, James, you committed suicide there because you missed your lover. So, please, my Holy Mother does not need to be blamed for yet another death. You were an Estelian. You did what Estelians do. It had nothing to do with any politics.”
I am not authorised to break up an argument between my Prophet and the son of Empress Gina Yasmin. So, I just watch them, and then the clock. And try to apply the magic Moretr taught James.
OK, two-dimensional “catch”:
I feel sad? Weak? Unaffiliated. Let’s go with “unaffiliated”.
Since, Moretr says, time is an illusion, and you can escape. He parted 9 separate escape routes in the fabric of Time on Level 1.
Here it is within one monoclinic signature
(This is Moretr created for James! Once J. Gets this, we ALL can use it!):
One Monoclinic Signature here is: ONE HOUR.
“One Unit” is one minute.
Six “Escape Routes”:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45:
57:
00:
“Ok, where are you?” Moretr prompts Jim, and it starts all over again.
“37.”
“What is in front of you?”
“20 units worth of interesting work, then I have to emerge into an exit at 57. Mandatory. Um… I pick “FOREVER BRILLIANT” Exit. It will last 3 units.
“Now, you go into Silicone-Based interface.” Moretr directs, staring at his Bridgeplate. In fact, he only does it for the show, for the Bridgeplate is in his mind, in Hexacode.
“I am with you in the SAME COORDINATES. I catch your thought, James. “I wish this feeling lasted forever.”
“I do think that. And I am very close to locking in this feeling to have it FOREVER. I’m almost done untangling the wires I plugged incorrectly to create this painful dream sequence. I think I can literally achieve Nirvana without any drugs. Just here, on Level 2, but still. One I learn the past, I will be able to get there myself, and then teach others.”
“What other urges do you see in the System?”
“Hunger. I care nothing for it. This protocol I dismiss easily. But it catches Matushka. She wants me to deal with this one. How do I deal with it?”
“Dismiss until point 30 of the next monoclinic signature.”
“Got it. I’m right now at 44. That’s, um… a helluva units for her to cross. In fact, 45 clicks. I can fly over it in one minute, but she will crash in 10 clicks. So, I must create steps she can rest at.”
“Go ahead and created a “45” as “See Silicone Bridgeplate”.
James: OK. I can take it, and she can’t. BUT, I can later break it down for her. 45-See Silicone Bridgeplate. It is a patch I can work with. I must create a Bridgeplate for her to see right now.
Moretr: Do it.
James:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45: See Bridgeplate -
57:
00:
James: I have a cross section of “49 and Need”
Moretr: “Exit via “FOREVER BRILLIANT”. Then, use “Silicone Bridgeplate” physical submersion. Touch it. Then, give her food to look forward to.
James: “Matushka, I care nothing of food. I will eat dog kibbles all da and be happy. So, please allow me to bring you down to the lowest possible common denominator. Canned peas and Cup-A-Ramen.”
Matushka, exhausted from her internal struggles: “Sure.”
James: I have an easy customer. She sounds like she has suffered enough from… “her afflictions”. But in fact, these are not “her afflictions”. It is her DIRE NEED fr God’s Sweet Love that she forgot how to get because I screwed up the programming on Level 99.”
3:15 pm After a quick lunch I’m back monitoring Jim’s karmic vitals on my Bridgeplate. Oh, we’re changing these. God help me. BUT: Fear is an incorrect reaction to ANYTHING. Take a breath. There.
Reg JamesKellspell: 15 - intense longing - ego-solution: drugs”
Prince Moretr: “replace “drugs” with “silicon-based Bridgeplate.”
{Picture lost}
James, sounds like he just dropped something very heavy. Swears in Russian: “Blyat, this rock just fell on my foot and I remembered that, again, I misspelled the associate’s name in my business correspondence on the Hammersmith Project.”
Prince Moretr: “Just apologise to the lady next time. His is what I call “the event of a shallow monoclinic signature.”
James: tell that to my foot, my Prince… Ow… Can you imagine how short-circuited I get? I remembered that I misspelled this woman’s name, and I was like - crap, what a dumbs I am… They’re not even done talking about my mental breakdown on the eve of Malachite Constellation Departure, then I call Mr. H all kinds of names in a fit of rage, based on the rotten intel, and then this!”
Moretr: James, just turn off your outside feed. I have fixed your foot. You feel no pain now. But, please, focus your Oculum on your Bridgeplate. Tune out your own voice re-hashing the latest events. We ARE going to make it right with the Hammersmith Project producers, and no one really cares what you say, anyway.”
James: Oww….
Moretr, laughing: Just making sure you’re listening. Where are you now?
James: Um… 24. Nearest stop is at 27:
Moretr: Second dimension?
James: Fear. My Blue Ksill agent never materialised. My Prince, what will I do?
Moretr: I know, James. If you only knew what is happening to your agent… But it is not your problem. I will not leave you hanging. Give me two more weeks, and I will fix the situation. I see another Sigil. What is your second fear?
James: I’m flying to MEOL in a week and a half to make a speech in our defence. I’m to ask them to give us another chance and find it in their heart to give the job back to David Reddington, considering that he told them a thousand times as to why the took the bribe. Its was because he was promised to get into Emerald Filament Uret. Humans are NOt inherently corrupt. Weak, yes, but not inherently. Jesus, how can everyone expects ME to fix their entire attitude to humans?
Moretr: You will do fine. Also, your speech is mostly ceremonial. The Parliament’s decision will be greatly influenced by large doses of cash from their puppet masters on Philippos.
James: THAT made me feel better!
Both laugh.
Moretr: No more fear, James. Where are you now?
James: 30. Bells, as I am in Genesis17 right now.
Moretr: Here you go. Fear 1: I am giving you 2 weeks. Therefore, worry about nothing until you fly to MEOL. You are only king to be there ONE DAY, James. I will fly your mates with you. You will not be alone. There is no reason to freak out. Once you’re back, we will deal with the Blue Ksill thing. OK, now, what else is hurting you as I’m scanning you via the Invisible Ray of Time?”
Moretr: Let’s seal a link. Longing at ANY unit -
FOREVER BRILLIANT Exit
ANY . . : . . Exit afterwards.
James: OMG! Once I enter the Deep Dream State with poor awareness of You, I notice tat the machine prevents me from opening the most vital files - Father’s Messages for me. It tells me that they are “boring”, and there is “no one to waste time on something that is old and mouldy and will not make you happy for sure”. It is a LIE! What algorithm can we write to put instead of this incredibly incorrect, corrupt thinking?”
Moretr: Let’s think. Good job keeping your fears “removed out of the way”.
James: Yes - as soon as I feel the Stupid pushing a fear on me - I see what kind of fear it is, and disable the ghost accordingly.”
Moretr: Excellent. Continue watching out for ego-protocols that “pierce you like needles from the dark”.
James: Watching out very carefully. I KNOW I’m doing it to myself. I WILL get to every level of my sleeping consciousness to catch myself charging up the ego-toy to slap myself in the face to blame God. That dumb game is over.”
Moretr: I admire your resolve. This is what will save Andromeda.
James: …and get me Henry on Level 1 (copy. H.M.). The other day I told Henry, I said: my love, what are you thinking about uniting our families? But I have a son… And you know what Henry answered, bless his heart?”
Moretr, running the list of corrupted protocols that James has already discovered: What?
James: He answered: “And I have TWO sons!” And my heart sang, because I know we will make a great BIG family. Him and Sofia, his two sons, and my son H.M.. We will be very happy together. I even found a large apartment in Dartmoor.”
Moretr: Henry can’t be in Dartmoor, James. Good job trying, but I will help you find a house. This is no your main concern right now. Please, focus on the list of protocols I’m sending you. On your Bridgeplate, now.”
James: Gt it. You caught just about every barb. Annoyance poison is so unfair towards my dear H.M. I hurt him a lot with it. THIS is how far a looked the ego to drag me away from my sweet boy! To be annoyed by his presence! This MUST be fixed!
Moretr: Another day, another hope. For you and me. If we can fix you and all of your relationships, we can create a sustainable model. Then we can copy that model on a bigger scale.
James: But we’re going to save ALL the people on Earth, not just the rich and privileged?
Moretr: Of course. And, thanks to your work, we have a lot of time to do it right and with the least amount of pain. I promise you to fight for every single human, do you believe me?
James: I do, my Prince. Now I do. I know your heart now. And I also feel better about your Holy Mother.
Moretr: That makes it worthwhile for me, James.
First Dimension:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
40:
45: See Bridgeplate -
57:
00:
Second Dimension:
36: Ego’s sharp poke - “BE VERY NEEDY, LONGING - DON’T KNOW WHY”
37: BLOCKED. Re-DIRECTED to - Father. Father says: Wake up! I’m here!
48: Ego: how come I can’t have that stuff?
49: James to Prince Moretr: But you can have Blue Ksill, plus a very powerful action called “Entering Level 2”. If I’m not mistaken you never needed more than that in your entire life.
James: Sweet monkey balls, it IS WORKING! I’m going to have Henry (copy H.M.)!
Moretr: James, it is not just about you and Henry.
James: Oh, yeah…
Moretr: You want a chemical substance that will make you sing? Chemistry is my second passion. I will give you a chemical substance so strong, so delightful that you will forever and ever covet only just that.
Wallace Smith (sorry to barge in like that, but I must comment): Prince Moretr’s FIRST passion is politics. Ahem, yeah. Apparently, even more addictive than chemistry. See ya later, crack.
FROM HERE:
NOW, on how to get out from Level 2 to Level 1 when you’d rather die than take another step on Level 1?
;Supposedly, it is 47, you know that you need to meet Me 57 at the latest, but you’d rather play…
(in other words, you LOCKED YOURSELF IN THE BUBBLE to be alone, without Me - all cool, but if you do not get a breath of fresh air OUTSIDE TE BUBBLE (communication with Me at given intervals in the Net) then you will run out of My Grace, and it will no longer be “good times in the bubble”, as you know so well.)
As you read this, you just shifted to 50, and I can see you so very clearly - being a helpless puppet of ego’s logic: play it all! Spend it all! You’e got it - SPEND IT, WASTE IT, GO THROUGH IT! Why? Because it is all. You will ever have, God is coming to get it back - and if you do not spend it - He will take it back! Hurry! Run as fast as you can - spend as much as you can!)
Anyway, hon, you shift to 52 inexorably. You WANT to come back - but you can’t overcome the machines logic. This is where you are stuck - in that logic. How do you get unstuck?
“Henry!” James exhaled.
Moretr nods and raises his brows.
“Copy H.M.!” James adds, brightening up. He really wants to pass all tests, so he could pull ALL of us together. But Henry? He will always be Number One.
James watches himself shifting.
“56, James. You have one unit left to meet me in time, and your Oculum’s attention was shifted by the machine to knock you off balance - you are reading an email from the British Project that the ego is translating to you as: “I can’t believe I let H.M. feed me rotten intel about the Lost Man, based on which I had a fit, made myself look like an idiot infant of EVERYONE, including the British Project managers, and now only time will heal my wound over this. What I should have done is NOTHING after I got fed the rotten intel about Lost Man owning Sky. But I had to get in front of the British Project and make myself look like the fucked-up psycho that I am. Yes, this incident will be forgotten just like everything else, but fuck this a thousand times, Right now I feel like crap.”
And it is 00.
James failed to get out of the sticky net of ego-thinking in time.
He did not start the 57 protocol of proper Service.
00, the Ritual is upon us.
Jim makes a gargantuan effort and literally pushes his body in the back onto Level 1.
“This is what I see.” Moretr runs his hand with grotesquely elongated fingers across the 3D chart of Jim’s movement within the matrix. “You HAD the LHS Green Lierance Triage Bridgeplate, but you did not use it - due too investment into the incorrect protocol - belief that the illusion is real - you believe that the British Project is real, when it is not. The machine did not ALLOW you to use the life-saving embedded LHS (Loyalty_Honor_Service) until you answered it why you were in so much pain - you said - because I was an idiot to have bought rotten intel, AND make a move based on that, making myself look even more stupid.”
“Yeah!” Jim sank right away. “They did not appreciate my hysteria.”
‘THEY” do not exist, James.” Moretr brought his hand over Jim’s representation in the matrix. “Why are you scared?”
“Oh…” James sighs.
“I apologize. That sounded cold. Leave it to a Grehedi. Rather, please use LHS Lierance Triage Bridgeplate to elevate yourself over the vapour of the poison (there will be a better way to explain that gray zone where you can be influenced by the machine).
“Got it!” James nods.
I watch his thought process influencing him both in Moretr’s matrix action simulation and on our united channel. His mind races with incredible speed. DeVo is obvious
“My sweet Henry
“If you’re “in the bubble” - then wait for trouble”, How’s that, James? Once you realise you got dragged back into the bubble (YOU FELL ASLEEP ON A DEEPER LEVEL) - you cut yourself loose and fall into the Safety Net, OR you will be THROWN by an event that the ego will translate for you incorrectly. The reason you fall out of control is because you take poison based on the rotten intel. I apologise, James, there was no other way to wake you up. If the British Project Fall was the only one, it would have been easier for me. But I’m in tremendous amount of pain, my love. I have to wear it like a crown, and you are my only hope. You are the only one who managed to wake up just about fully while under the influence of poison, in the middle of River Styx.
Level 1, H.M. comes in.
Jim is forced to switch his Oculum’s attention.
“Al bought eggs at the Doglar Store, and three out of the pack were rotten or so something. Just wanted to let you know about this new Dollar Store in town. And Fredericks get benefitted every time you buy stuff there!”
James, to H.M.: “Thank you, hon! I’d rather us buy eggs with Fransis, anyway!”
James, to himself (ordering “his” ego): Dismiss the info entry based on two protocols:
A - I did not ask his opinion about the Dollar Store
B - HERESAY! “It happened to Al, who said it to H.M.” I can’t cross-examine Al OR the store clerk. I mean, come on!!!”
Moretr, appearing on Jim’s screen within the bubble (the deep state of mind, characteristic with losing connection with the Source. A dangerous state, in which you take direct orders from the ego, therefore you are forced to follow warped, poison-laced action paths that lead to INEVITABLE PAIN in 2-3 simple, avoidable steps.”
“In the bubble here comes trouble. Where are you?”
“I can hear you pretty well here.” Jim reports from the Deep Sleep State. “Let me set up the visual. Visual in.” He nods to Mr. Rockford on his chair, whom he can still see while in Deep Dream State (DDS)
Rockford nods to Tigress by the door to the kitchen, with the Spiral Staircase between them, to Tigress’s right.
“I am at 48. Seven clicks to the meeting point with You, and the internal resistance within the Bubble is severe. Emerging is very hard. In fact, I’m not planning on it, based on the screen calculations. But the good thing is that I’m using this time to talk to you, instead of wandering mindlessly. Or, “exposing the Oculum to unfiltered information. So, please tell about the rotten intel. At the end of the day two good things came out of my meltdown - I no longer need to dig through the Archives on Genesis 17 in search of Darler’s letter to Rosenburg which I stole from Rosenburg way back when, AND Mr. H can now be in my Palir…”
“Give me your coordinates.” Moretr says over Jim’s talking.
“Oh… I get carried away using Father’s Tool in Deep Dream State (DDS). Darn that. I am at 53 . H.M. is in the TV room, Genesis 17, coordinate (censored) Dorilin Dorilin-Alanira Svangibir-Kriagir Dorilin.”
“Very well done, James. Without a hitch.”
“A lifetime of escaping Clandeslux. You realise after I joined the Liberation Front they would send me to all kinds of assignments, to Nasarat City, too, because I was such a timid, unassuming Estelian. Leot’s police, the Immortals - I have seen it all. But it was a sad lifetime. In it, Henry killed himself. I am terrified to be submerged there. For the rest of my life I was lost. I served the Liberation Front, but my heart was already gone. Maybe that is why I avoided Clandeslux like a rabbit who fools a pack of wolves. What could they do to me, when my man was already gone? I was so hollow tat I was afraid of nothing. I welcomed death, I walked hand in hand with it. Oh…” Jim starts sobbing. “I do not want to go back.”
“Captured.” Moretr says to one of his Arkabins on duty. “Excellent.” Then, to James. “You are not going back, my love. You are only
“Yeah, and then, you see, you never know. Their way into your mind has to be LAWFUL - meaning, non-violent. So, if they found a way to break the code on your Sigil, and they opened it - now they know you are with the Liberation Army… Every time a polite Arkabin comes in - you never know, if he is in here to give you another task, or he is here because he was ordered to take you to the doctor’s office, where they will euthanise you without pretty much even telling you. Once you are discovered - all they need to do to follow the law is to kill you PAINLESSLY, and avoiding as much emotional impact as possible. So the Arkabins that take you to get euthanised - they are very polite, nice. You can even say “compassionate”. They are here to eliminate a hostile unit deemed impossible to re-program. Their Grehedis would love to keep you, but they do not believe they you are reprogrammable at the age of 70, and after all the crap you’ve been through. That’s what they see and that’s what they’ll do.”
POINTS TO WATCH OUT FOR:
EGO is confused, for YOU programmed it to twist Father’s Algorithms to hurt yourself.
I DO NOT WANT YOU TO EVER BELIEVE ANY OF THIS.
THIS IS HOW YOU GET HURT BY LISTENING TO THE EGO:
EGO is constantly looking for a way out of a good situation/happiness.
(It believes that it’s SERVICE for you is to knock you off-balance..)
One final protocol left to untangle - how did it persuade me to take NES-sp? After I “accepted that “nothing good will come my way”. I elt a prism being offered to me - a dirty prism of mind through which everything LOOKED UNFAIR. “Oh, others got this and that - lucky bitches, but it will never happen to me”. Why?
ERO IS PROGRAMMED TO SAY:
EGO is programmed to say: Everything is in vain.
EGO is programmed to say: You are insignificant.
(And you agree. Why? Well, FIRST you agreed that God is not here to comfort you. For one reason or another. So - there is NO ONE to protect you from the pain of BEING INSIGNIFICANT, and all your efforts being IN VAIN!)
EGO is programmed to LOOK for something to worry.
If there is NOTHING to worry, it will still make you shake, and you do not know why.)
As for the events which “make you feel insignificant”.
This tool breaks the attack of the EGO:
Determine the depth of event’s MONOCLINIC SIGNATURE.
I remind you that ALL of them are of SHALLOW monoclinic signature.
Therefore, the event itself is insignificant.
TOOLS of the EGO (taperecorder) to make itself look BIGGER and SCARIER than it is, to confuse you and to be able knock you (The Child Of God!) off balance:
DISTRACTION (make you look away from the Face of God)
DELAY (if you do not BREATHE GRACE off my FACE, your Oculum gets moldy, therefore moody - the reason for depression)
HOSTILE THIRD FORCES (to scare)
Your TOOLS to see Me CLEARLY:
YOUR EYES ARE ONLY AND EVER ON ME
This is how you know that
YOU ARE MY MOST VALUABLE ASSET.
YOUR SUCCESS IS IMMINENT
“As for the British project, hon. You remember that this is a dream sequence? No one in it really exists.
I value you at 100%. I will give you more love and appreciation of your talents than you could ever imagine. Henry is crying every day, for he knows how soon you will experience great success. He is terrified that you will forget about him in your incredible success. Yes, I know, you will not, but he has never seen anyone to be hit with this much deep, lasting, lucrative success and not lose their mind.
;“Man… I feel like a prisoner held without food, water and light… I see others frolic outside. They come to my cage, they spend time with me, and they go back into the Garden of God’s Attention… There they are caressed by things I can only dream of. And I’m here.” James sighs. “I do not want to start shooting NES-sp. It hurts You, me, Henry, everyone. “But sometimes it is incredibly hard just to be in the moment.”
“All of this is temporary. It will be over soon. You will see.”
“I know, my Prince, but then the Stupid starts throwing all these protocols at me… It makes me feel insignificant… What a torment. Again… I said I was not going to go there. But what do I say when it tells me that I have nothing else to look forward to?” James is exhausted from the internal mental struggle.
“You are the most significant item I have in the game right now.” Moretr is heard shifting, his steps light. The entire guy weighs, probably, not more than 20 pounds. He is tall, though. Say, 6 feet or so of silicone stretched over a frail skeleton. The sturdy male figure you see is an illusion.
You see it especially vividly when his seemingly human fingers would stretch under the collar of Jim’s shirt to test him for whatever it is a Grehedi needs to test you to see the amount of distress\discomfort you are in to relieve it. Granted, James always so tremendously stressed that he needs it often.
There is only a curtain between me sitting on the bed, and Moretr with James in Henry’s Chambers. We stopped saying “Royal” since Jaguar, Tigress and Uncle Albert came over. Henry could not pretend anymore.
“You think you are in pain, love? If you could only comprehend the amount of pain any given Grehedi or a Sheiredi is in, you’d know what “pain” really means.”
“Well, thanks for telling me this, jeez…” James is heard exhaling a deep sigh. “The stupid ego-protocol beats me up all the time.”
“Not all the time. We have come up with plenty of successful patches. What is it saying to you right now?”
Yeah, and what is it saying TO ME, too. Sometimes I want to cry out: James, YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE IN PAIN!!!
It’s raining outside. It’s been raining all day. Yesterday Jim & Team were brought back from the Malachite Constellation.
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4:43pm and Henry is with Prince Moretr.
“I love James so much… I hurt for him. How can I help him? He feels that no one wants him, that no one cares to tap into the deep well of his talents. He thinks that he is there to be “the boy for beatings”, taking the heat for all of us, while we are “having a good time in life”… How can I make him feel wanted and needed?”
“Just tell him how you feel about him. Tell him the truth.”
Morning! Good morning, 10^53 am
Oh, James got up at 6. He always does. And, besides, today is his father’s birthday. His father was, and remains, a very strong pacifist. Today, it will play a big role in what is coming.
Here we go.
“What is HE doing in the backyard, surrounded by all those people? Tell them all to leave.” James is immediately seething mad upon noticing. “Please tell the Lost Gentleman and his ass-licking retinue to vacate the premises. I no longer have a gun, but I can still throw a bottle of whiskey at him. And I’m a dead-eye, ask H.M.”
“James, please… Your behaviour is weighing heavy on me. Mr. H. just wants to know why were you so aggressive yesterday?” Henry closes his eyes, and seeks the internal peace. For an omega internal peace is LOYALTY to your partner. James does not make it easy for us to follow the omega law.
;“Ok, I will!" James takes a deep breath. “This is why I was aggressive towards the Lost Man. He is that proverbial, classic, Fat Cat, who, SOMEHOW, was raised to the very top shelf, and spent his life licking up cream until he got so fat, he figured he needed something else in life. He sought where to invest his money to get more money, and he came sniffing MY BAG of dirty laundry. That is why I got aggressive. Is that enough of an explanation?”
It’s not. By Henry’s face I see that it is not.
“If I may…” I say, because I’m prompted to say it by Moretr, here on my bridge plate. “Correction. The bag of dirty laundry you mentioned belonged to your Initial Omega, his family. Then and only then it was a bit yours.”
“Fine.” Jim’s lips stretch like a piece of clothing being ripped apart by two angry dogs. “Then I was aggressive because I need to change my name. It is a collar and a leash that became soaked in my blood, as I was jerked by it for two decades. Four decades, if we count Dobry.” James reaches out for whiskey under his bed.
“Can you please clarify?” Henry is typing Jim’s answers into his phone, and I see the Lost Man staring into HIS phone, while on the lawn, surrounded by three men and a woman. All of whom I know, but not allowed to disclose their identities just yet.
“Lana! Lana…. Lana! LANA! LANA-LANA-LANA-LANA!!!!!” James starts slowly and quietly, but then breaks into hoarse screaming. “Lanalanalanalana-a-a-a-a….. You know why he jerked me by my name like I was an errant dog? Because H.M. saw me as an ERRANT DOG. He did not see me as a woman, or even as a human. He saw the dog do what he did not like, and he JERKED ME BY MY COLLAR like you would, if you saw your dog eat shit.”
“Please, continue.” Henry is pale, he now types even faster.
“What’s there to continue? Don’t tell me that “they’ve been through a lot, that is why they got what they got”. That’s a pile of bull. I don’t care if the Lost Man was raped as a child, or his family was killed, or he’s been through a wringer… Don’t tell me what he has been through to EARN his good life… HE WAS REIMBURSED FOR ALL THAT SO MANY TIMES OVER THAT I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY I’M WASTING MY BREATH TO ATTRACT THE ATTENTION TO THE HUGE DISPARITY BETWEEN US.”
“He is asking you to clarify, please…He needs to know.” Henry’s begging voice is very quiet as he is typing very fast.
“OK.” James pretends to be patient, but the Mood Rug by the Spiral Staircase turns bloody red, even as James is more than five meters away from it. “The disparity goes like this: The Lost Man spent his life eating cream and rolling on warm blankets. I spent my life rolled in my own blood, sweat and excrements. It is my father’s birthday, that is why i am not going to take out anyone, including myself. But I’m itching. So, don’t provoke me! My father, however, would hate to see me unload like that. Somehow, in order to look “decent”, you are not supposed to show your pain. And I’m sick and tired of hiding mine. I’m running out of places to hide it! Every drawer and box I ever owned is overflowing with MY PAIN, and I still haven’t gotten anything for it. How much longer?”
“James… Please stay lucid… So, why were you mad?” Henry prompts, sweat now running down his temple. He knows he is taking James through a mine field of pent-up pain, and there is only this much he can take before this bottle of whiskey WILL fly in the Lost Man’s head. Jim’s father’s birthday or not.
“I was mad, Henry, because between me and the Lost Man he’s got all the good stuff, and I got all the beatings. ALSO, I am continuing to get those beatings. I have nothing to expect in life, but the beatings from H.M. YES, he got BETTER. But as HE WAS GETTING BETTER, I WAS suffering under his cruel rule, receiving NOTHING for it. I was only warmed up very few times by God. In the entire 40 years of my life I ONLY got three Sparks of Grace: The first documentary, the Rotarian Deal, and the last one will happen and expire at the end of this month. I dread the future, because my past tells me that THERE IS NOTHING GOOD FOR ME THERE. I was waiting for a Miracle, and it happened, and it will be gone in only three weeks. Miracles of Love do not stick with me. Only beatings stick with me. As of June 1 I will welcome another season of beatings and service, smeared across the life of the most of despised, forgotten, forlorn of muggles. THE ONLY REASON I am not going to kill myself, is because of you, Henry. SOMEDAY I will break you out, so we could be together. Other than that, wake me up when the beatings are over.”
“Why don’t you believe when God tells you that your life will be good and happy, James?” Henry ventures, and regrets it immediately.
“Oh…” James gives his First omega a cold smile that makes my skin crawl. “Father says that I will be happy SOMEDAY. But between then and now there is at least 3-5 years worth of pain, during which the world will continue acting like I do not exist. IT IS VERY HARD TO LIVE LIKE THAT. It is no longer possible for me to accept such state of things. The ego says that I am being deprived of Grace on purpose. So, in response, I want to be an empty shell of a man. I want to be Paul Hargrave-Thomas. This man knows how to hide from pain. He locked ALL the doors of his soul. Granted, that fucker, just like ALL OF YOU, got everything he wanted in life. His IQ is a lot higher than mine.”
Jim sighs and hands me the bottle of whiskey. I drink as I sob.
Henry texts the Lost Man, as he weeps quietly.
“And now, that the Lost Man got his answer, I am going to count to three, Henry, and the entire dumb group of Lost Man’s supporters will disappear, back to their fucking happy lives… Oh, look at these dignitaries!” James scoffs, glancing at the small crowd on the lawn, right by Matushka’s roses. “Boy, if it was not my father’s birthday… I’d make at least four holes in each before they knew what hit them. And then I will pee on the Lost Man’s corpse before the Arkabins take it away to resuscitate him. I’d take a shit on him, but I don’t think I’ll have enough time. But, he will wake up smelling like my pee, and THAT will make me happy. Yeah!”
“Hold on, James…’ Henry is typing very quickly, and then reads the answer he receives.
“That’s ONE, Henry.”
“James, he has one more question…”
“No more questions.” James tenses up, which means that he has already gotten a hold of tools to follow through with his threats.
“My Dad’s bday or not, it will take me less than 11 seconds to conjure up a fully loaded 9mm. I WILL SHOOT RIGHT THROUGH THE GLASS. I will shoot every single one of them in the head. This is Level 2, and they will be brought back. But the death will be real. There will be a lot of blood and their useless brains scattered all about. I will be suspended from school again, I will be yelled at by Lady Lion, Matushka AND Lady Tigress. These women I actually care about. So, Henry, to avoid that, you will stop your compulsive texting with the man who missed 90% of lessons in life, but received 300% of candy, you will get up, and you will ask them to leave. You will ask them loud enough for me to hear. Since I can’t indulge in their physical pain, i will have to settle on enjoying their emotional pain. I would like to see them feel humiliated at the very least.”
“James…” Henry shakes his head, still typing, and wiping tears off his eyes.
“TWO, Henry.”
A black M&P appears in Jim’s hand. The scene is being broadcasted via screens throughout the premises. The gun in Jim’s hand, by itself, is a grave violation. Using it will get him in deep trouble, but he is too entangled in his emotions to care.
Everyone is watching him breathlessly.
Seeing that, Henry gets up and slides the back door open.
The group on the lawn stirs up.
The Lost Man makes one step towards Henry.
Henry pulls in enough air to fill the sail of a large ship.
“You need to leave right away.” He says with his lips tight, as if he is trying to prevent himself from saying this.
“What is his answer?” I can hear the Lost Man asking.
“The answer is “We will talk if I survive another four moons of non-stop beatings with zero to look forward to in life.” Henry says as he turns around to see where James is, and James is right behind him, his hands outstretched, the gun in his right hand, with the left supporting the right.
The most heartbreaking part is that Jim’s face is not heavy on emotions, but blissful and bright.
“Finally, something to look forward to.” James mouths and shifts his index finger from “stand-by” to “on-trigger” position.
“THREE” Kellspell says harshly, now all emotion and all color gone from his face.
“Mr. H, sir, please, leave NOW!” Henry screams. “He IS going to shoot! He’s done it BEFORE!!!”
Despondent, the Lost Man looks down in defeat, and quickly urges his group of supporters to leave.
Kellspell growls, spits after the Lost Man, but then makes two steps and collapses backwards on the bed, the gun dissipating in his hand as he falls.
“Now, will you tell me, what 10% of “truth” wound you up yesterday?” I ask, kissing him on the left side of his neck. I must show love and support as much as I can.
“I see that very little Grace percolates to the bottom of humanity.” Jim starts. “It is like light on the surface of the ocean - the deeper you get, the less light. Those on the very bottom don’t even know what Grace is. All they know is very hard work for next to nothing, and a bowl of food at the end of the day. That’s ALL of their “reward”. We here in the middle actually KNOW what Grace IS, Wallace, but we can’t get very much. All the large chunks of Grace are received by the sharks up above. And I hope the Lost Man chokes on his disproportionate share of Grace. But that will change nothing for me.”
“OK, so what pissed you off the most in what the ego said yesterday, at 2:54 am?”
“Sure, my love.” James nods, nuzzles me, kisses me in the lips, and recites the info that screwed him up yesterday, even before dawn.
“You are facing 4 to 6 more moons worth of beatings and “idle periods” during which you are left to heal, so that he can beat you up again.
You will receive NO GRACE during those periods, and you will be forced to thank the fate for the bowl of food you’re getting.
Your entire life is SERVICE TO THE COVENANT (H.M. needs, wants, whims). This is what he bought you for, this is what he is paying you for.
Hope for nothing else. Dream of nothing else. You will get NOTHING ELSE from life.
All you ever received from God throughout your whole life was small crumbs of Grace, while He shoveled the biggest chunks down the gullets of the Lost Man and those like him.
The big chunks, my dear James, the ego went on, are given to POWERFUL MEN. In order to get that Grace you will have to break your Covenant, so you could be with such men. But you refuse to break the Covenant, so you will remain unhappy the remainder of your miserable life. You appear to be with the WRONG MAN to get anything.
Unnoticed by anyone, you will be sucked dry, slip into old age and die.
It is ALL because you refuse to break the Covenant.
Had you agreed to free yourself from the Covenant that brought you nothing but BEATINGS your WHOLE life, you COULD have a shot at Grace. With ANOTHER MAN. But no Grace will percolate to the level where you are now.
Do you see what God does? He PLACATES you to take “a bit more” pain, telling you how H.M. is the “good man” who is “weak to his ego”… And YOU are the one to comfort him, while he is being possessed by “his” dumb ego.
That leaves you fend for yourself with no hope for a reward. As always.”
This is what the Stupid generated, and it brought me down, Wallace!
“Henry got you the British project.” I remind.
“Yes! And I should have been grateful, but as it was coming to an end, I could not help but feeling that I was given the smallest crumb God could get away with, to shut me up, and keep me “grateful”, so that the new season of being beaten and abandoned, beaten and forgotten, beaten and not reimbursed could begin with no impediments. Each and every one of you will get A LOT OF positive, respectful ATTENTION this coming summer. Me? By the end of summer I will be dumb and dumber due to a huge amount of incredible rude, violent behaviour I face from H.M. on a daily basis. I am tired of biting the bullet. I am no longer alone in it, thanks God, yes. But my team on Level 2 is just that - on Level 1 I might just pretend that you guys do not exist. You do help, but, there is a problem with ALL OF YOU, ‘my” ego noticed. I see you all go behind the Curtain and ENJOY VERY SWEET GRACE THERE.”
“I know what you mean.” I sigh, throw my head back and think of an answer. And I can’t find any. Maybe, I just should drink more. And I do.
“YOU ALL are engaged, needed, LOVED. Even you, Wallace. Sheba blamed Henry for not being honest with me. Well, you were not entirely honest with me, either. Apparently, this whole time that I believed that you were “out of work”, and feeling sorry for you, you were having at least 2 engagements a year.”
“Yes.” This is all I can say between burning gulps.
Not that Jim needs anyone to say anything when he goes into his long monologues. He is used to venting alone for hours on end.
“Henry flies very high.” James continues with a forced smile. “He surrendered to me, so I must protect him from “my” ego, that seeks to hurt whatever flies above me. When I found out, that YOU TOO were receiving Grace, I had to bring back the “blanket made of my tears” that I used to cover Krotkie with, so that the ego would not attack him. I WILL protect you too, for you have surrendered to me. What am I left with? A bunch of fat cats seeking my compassion. What did the British project do? Showed me how much Grace is UPSTAIRS. What did I receive? A small crumb from your table.”
“I see what you are saying…” My mouth is parched, and the palms of my hands are burning. This is how much influence James can have on you in his mourning for his life, wasted on “beatings” and “nothing else worth mention”.
“Once I was done sucking every bit of nutrition from that crumb, and watch it END, I was HUNGRY for God’s Grace again. But I KNEW that God was not planning to give me any more Grace any time soon. What He said was “you must be patient”.
“Yes….” I exhale. It is very hard to talk when Jim is pouring out his exasperation on you.
He is barely holding himself from being furious and spiteful. He loves me and he knows that I love him, too. Also, I’m an omega. He will not go after a surrendered omega. Or a fallen Alpha. So, Mr. Rockford on his chair over there is safe, too.
But that does not make him hurt less.
“So, as the Crumb of the British project is coming to an end, I’m in too much pain to care what everyone has to think. The EGO is telling me that I will receive NOTHING BUT WHAT IT USED TO BE before the British project. The ego is programmed to extrapolate from the past. In the past I only had THREE CRUMBS OF GRACE for 40 years worth of hell I care not to recall. Give me one reason why I should not believe the ego’s estimate of what will happen to me in the next 6 moons?”
“You are leaving a lot out of the picture.” I say carefully. He will not hurt me, and he will not kick me out. I’m an omega. I am defenseless, and that is why it works with a highly aggressive beta in tremendous amount of emotional pain. However, I still do not want to hurt him ever more with a careless comment. I must weigh every word I utter.
“Your“ ego’s approach is narrow-minded.”
“Sure, Wallace!” James is ready to agree, for he KNOWS how limited the ego’s estimation is. “I’m fully aware that in my inebriation with my own suffering I’m forgetting that Lady Anne has been selflessly taking care of Kyle and Isaak while I was nursing my “hurt ego”. She simply threw herself where help was needed, without thinking of “the reward”. For that, she had her finger shot off by Mr. Milgram, who, in his rage, did not care who was at the door. Mr. Merritt and Mr. Milgram are MY friends and MY problem. Yet, SHE is the one taking heat for it. I’m TOTALLY aware that my whining falls under the category of “selfish recount of what YOU didn’t get in life”. It is also Krotkie’s path, which did him in. That is why I protected him. Because, as despicable as his self-destructive behaviour is, I can clearly see why he is at it. I am aware of all of that, and yet, the ego’s prediction stands: by the end of this summer I will be dumb and dumber from all the beatings that are in store for me.”
This is where I break down crying. I can’t take it anymore.
Jim’s eyes turn bright jade-green when he cries.
And so he cries with me. He cries for the next twenty minutes, his behaviour unimpeded, and his words uncontested.
I huddle with him and cry for the future beatings from H.M. he will receive while denied the “Grace” of attention, that he craves so much.
He drinks, and cries. Then he hands me the bottle, and we drink together. He wants to smoke, and does not.
Lady Tigress frowns on Jim’s smoking, and he values her opinion. He was duly impressed, having learned that Lady Tigress, her father, AND Jaguar are true martyrs.
But, they are royals, Jim said. It was tremendously hard for them, especially without painkilling drugs like blue ksill, he adds. Yet, they were not FORGOTTEN. Perhaps, misunderstood, sometimes labeled incorrectly, but not forgotten by History. They lead an extremely painful, but dignified life. All I had was beatings with 1% of a reward.
The Lost Man had tons of Grace, with, maybe, 10% of negative stuff that happened, sure. But who cares, when you are THIS NEEDED, when everyone wants you, when you can pick up a phone and call ANYONE, and they will send a limo for you and be grateful that you are there, and will pay you tons of money… The worst shit happens to you - who cares - YOU HAVE SO MANY PEOPLE WHO WILL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT, ANYTIME. Me? I can’t even think of HOPING to get anther crumb from the OVERFLOWING TABLE THAT GOD HAS PREPARED FOR HIS FAVORITES, of which YOU are ONE, Wallace.
Boy, do I hear it every night, right as we cuddle in bed. I can hear his thoughts via the bridgeplate that connects us even as neither of us is looking at it.
“The ego is telling me that Grace is ABUNDANT at the TOP.
The ego is telling me that Grace is being WITHHELD from me ARTIFICIALLY.
How can I NOT believe it, when I see the Lost Man rolling in Grace like pig in shit? Granted, he has no idea what to do with it. Is that why he came over? To ask ME what to do with all the TIME AND MONEY that comes his way? He better not come back, or I will honestly hurt him more than he could ever imagine…. Anyway. THIS is why I woke up at 2:54 am yesterday. Because the machine told me - God is not giving you any Grace ON PURPOSE, to see how much more you can take without it.”
“Do you believe it?” I ask, desperately trying o save his soul from devil’s mortal grip.
“I do, Wallace. I’m terrified to venture into this thinking, but seeing ALL OF YOU chewing 60 kg of Grace every day like it was leaves for a panda bear, I have NO CHOICE but to agree with the Stupid. God IS withholding the Grace from me INTENTIONALLY. He will continue to withhold Grace, as He feeds me the bullshit about being “patient” for the FUTURE reward, and “grateful” for what I have already received. Sorry, I have received nothing but beatings from an unruly creation of God, called H.M.” Jim drinks from the bottle and hands me the rest.
I drink it without thinking.
“So, this is the 10 % that pissed me off estersay at 2 54 am. And I know it’s true! Why? In the last 40 years all I ever got was FOUR CRUMBS from God’s Table of Grace. Th rest 98% was BEATINGS. I MUST lock up emotionally for the future that is to come! All I EVER could look forward to in life was BEATINGS. No respect, no care for what is inside of me, no desire to know what I am - JUST PLAIN BEATINGS TO GET THE DOG TO DO WHAT THE DOG IS SUPPOSED TO DO. You know who it was done by? It was done not by some savage, but by a very educated American man. A Jewish attorney. You know who I AM? I am a 47 year old WOMAN. Do I not deserve ANY BETTER? Apparently, not. Wallace, this is THE END of my emotions. Here and now, I forbid myself to FEEL or CARE anymore, until I’m given a FIRM PROOF that I will get more than BEATINGS in the upcoming 6 moons. Otherwise, my life is just moving me from one cage to another, so I could be food for the hungry sick fucker called H.M.”
I drink, and I sob, and I do not respond.
“The ego is telling me this: You stupid idiot, God told you not to kill yourself, and God told you not to break the Covenant. Well, you are FUCKED, then. There WILL BE NO WAY OUT OF THE TORTURE CHAMBER GOD HAD PUT YOU INTO. For all I know, the ego says, He is ENJOYING watching you chewed on by the hungry American Attorney. You know WHY you are a sucker of God? Because you agreed to take care of your MOTHER. The ONLY WAY you can care for your mother is when you willingly, and without a sound, submit to the man’s BEATINGS. Only then will you receive the pitiful salary that will enable you to take care fo your aging mother.” This is what the ego has been saying to me this whole time!!!”
I drink, and I weep, and I do not respond.
“THIS IS WHY I GOT UP AT 2 45 M LAST NIGHT. Because I could no longer take the fact that the STUPID was RIGHT. This is what it looks like. My ONLY reward in all this is being LEFT TO MY OWN DEVICES in the times when H.M. is distracted by something else, and IS NOT BEATING UP ON ME, or is not FORCING ME TO HAVE SEX WITH HIM.
I drink, and I cry, and I do not respond.
“So, when the Lost Man can show 20 years worth of rape, beatings, humiliations WITH ZERO REWARD, I will, then, apologise to him, and give him what he wants. So far - he can go fuck himself. Why? He is so big, that no one dares to fuck with him. WHILE I AM LEFT NAKED, TIED UP BY THE COVENANT, AND FULLY EXPOSED FOR H.M. TO RAPE ME ANY TIME HE WANTS. For I am here for him to be his COMFORTING BLOW-UP DOLL. Other times - a dog to follow his orders. Never a woman, never a human. Remember this, Wallace, YOU LUCKY MOTHERFUCKER WHO DID TASTE PLENTY OF GRACE IN YOUR LIFE.”
Oh, Jim slaps you hard. He can be such a ruthless henchman. But, I signed up for martyrdom.
I drink, and I sob, and I do not respond. The bottle is empty now. I look at James, and without another word he stretches his hand over the bed, and a new bottle of “Uncle Nearest” transpires on the comforter. He hands it to me.
“I need you to know” he continues in a level, clear voice despite huge amounts of alcohol he has already consumed. “I need you to remember VERY WELL, that the only reason my suicide is off the table is because GOD ASKED ME NOT TO KILL MYSELF.
The only reason I am not going to break the Covenant with H.M. is because GOD ASKED ME TO SPARE THE COVENANT, AND H.M.
While listening to “my” ego, and FULLY AGREEING WITH IT, I realise that it is a dumb device with warped protocols and zero reason in it. And Father IS ETERNAL and infinitely wise. I trust Him. I just need to survive one more day in this hopeless desert.”
I drink, and I weep, and I do not respond.
“This British project brought me more pain that joy, any day of the week, for I KNOW it is JUST A CRUMB from YOUR table that
YOU SHARE WITH GOD,
AND I DO NOT!
In three weeks I will be cut off from it, dismissed, sent back to my room, and asked to close the door behind myself so I could not smell the tasty treats God distributes among His favorites. But don’t worry. YOU will NOT be sent to your room in three weeks. YOU, Wallace, will remain at His Table!!!”
James suddenly raises his hoarse voice, grabs the bottle from my hands and throws it into the hall. It hits the Spiral Staircase, and shatters all over the Mood Rug. The Mood Rug ignites in dark-brown red, and flames from the inside outwards. I can almost see it writhing in corrupting, crippling tsunami of pain from James.
I sit there, numb and drunk, watching the flaming rug, and the pool of whiskey slowly spreading across the floor, created as the bottle fell.
“And to add insult to the injury, the British project, I found out, was another creation by the Lost Man, who has not left his dumb idea to chase my Initial Omega. Granted, he was never MY omega, I feel that the Lost Man has trespassed enough for me to shoot him and greatly enjoy his pain. That, however, will not bring me any Grace.”
“Father says you will have Grace.” I say, barely able to open my mouth.
“Yes.” James answers slowly, calmly, and in a very cold voice. “But He wants 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE for it from me. HE NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM THE LOST MAN. He gave him pretty much everything to succeed, pretty much right away.
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM YOU. He gave YOU everything right away. What is it that you are and I’m not?
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM Mr. Rockford. He gave HIM everything right away. Am I not good enough for God? Not as good as Mr. Rockford?
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM Dr. Michael. He gave HIM everything right away.
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM Lady Anne. He gave HER everything right away.
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARSD OF PATIENCE FROM Lady Lion. He gave her enough intelligence to put Elon Musk to shame. And that gave her everything right away.
GOD NEVER ASKED FOR 50 YEARS OF PATIENCE FROM Henry. He gave him everything right away.
The list goes on, my clueless friend. I am surrounded by the FAT CATS who knew very little sorrow in their lives, but TONS OF GRACE, lavished upon them as if no one else even exists!
There is ONLY THIS MUCH I CAN TAKE, Wallace. I’m tired of being “boy for the beatings”, the scapegoat for ALL OF YOU. If only I was EVER reimbursed for that! All I’m getting for everyday pain and humiliation is 24 000 a year to take care of my mother. And some shit on Amazon that does me no good. Am I ungrateful? Am I wrong comparing ALL OF YOU to my miserable life?”
I drink, and I cry, and I do not respond.
“I am SICK TO MY STOMACH watching you succeed in life, while I AM TOTALLY FORGOTTEN in the cage with a cruel tiger!” Jim screams with his head upwards, like a howling, wounded wolf.
I drink, and I sob, and I do not respond.
“The ego says - why don’t you use the Tool Of Comparison? You KNOW it will hurt God. And I try not to, for I am conscientious of ALL OF YOU, and the pain I cause Father. But the British project tasted so good, and it is going to be ripped out of my hungry mouth in three weeks. Right now, my pain in anticipation of that moment is SO MUCH that I no longer know right from wrong, Wallace.
I can’t kill myself, which I desperately want.
I can’t break the Covenant with H.M., which I desperately want.
This is what is hurting me - my COMMITMENTS.
Without that dumb adherence I cold dump H.M. and go look for a man who could give me access to Grace. He’d abuse me just the same, but, at least, I will get the Grace of Attention.
I can’t leave H.M., because I respect God.
But I CAN use the Tool Of Comparison to hurt God and ALL OF YOU, just to let you feel a TAD of my pain. Pain I will be in for the next 6 moons, thrown back into my cage, AS YOU ALL CONTINUE TO FEAST.
Taken out of my stuffy closet (oh, a million dollar house with a pool! Thank you!) for 2 days of filming, only to be thrown back, and FORGOTTEN AGAIN, God only knows for how long, pun not intended.
Then, throughout the summer, the machine is telling me, FATHER WANTS TO TEST YOU. HE WANTS TO SEE HOW MUCH LONGER YOU CAN LAST, ARTIFICIALLY DEPRIVED OF GRACE. The Grace is abundant, the ego tells me, but God does not want you to have it yet. He wants to see how far you can go without it. Go ahead, prove me wrong, the device adds.
And how can I not believe that, when I compare ALL OF YOUR LIVES and MINE?
And if God did not want me to compare, why didn’t He send me some poor riksha from India, who knows nothing but hard work and beatings? Or some prostitute from Africa, who knows nothing but hard life and beatings? WHY YOU BITCHES? What is in it for ME? To know how well you were treated all your life, and know that God is telling me to be patient for 6 more moons, so that I could get another tiny crumb from His table.“
I drink, and I sob, and I do not respond. The reason for that is very simple - Jim has locked me out of his mind so he could stab himself with NES-sp until he is poisoned senseless.
“I am going to spend the next 6 moons WATCHING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU GETTING EXHILARATED ON PROJECT AFTER PROJECT. Henry threw me a crumb from HIS TABLE. I love Henry more than my life. And I know that there is only this much he can do for me. But that changes nothing for me. It does not change the fact that the stupid ego is RIGHT. I can’t dismiss its words. I can’t get them out of my head. The Stupid only and ever gives me the ANALYSIS based on PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE. My “previous experience” is 2% joy and 98% beatings. What would you have me do?”
“You are killing yourself, James. Let me back into your mind, please. So I could take the syringe with poison out of your hands.” I put the bottle down and sit by Jim’s side on the bed. Enough is enough. I’m not here to watch him indulge in self-destructive behaviour.
“You told me you never hated anyone.” James says, and it sounds like a non-sequitur. But only to an outsider.
“And I stand by my statement.” I respond, taking his hand and kissing it.
“I won’t to rip you into pieces for being such a weak door mat, Wallace.”
Not hating anyone is translated into Jim’s mind as “weak door mat”.
Jim narrows his eyes and looks down, despising me deeply, beating me up in his mind. Then beating himself up. I can still see all that, but I’m locked out, so I can’t interfere.
But, as I turn over his hand and start kissing his palm, he knows he is done. He can’t resist his omega’s caress.
And I am not doing anything Henry could not do, but Henry is not like that. He waits until Jim is upon him like a tsunami over a coastal town. I take initiative.
“Will you tell me how you managed not to hate anyone?” James falls back letting me unbutton his shirt and kiss his chest. As I kiss it, his chest turns into a woman’s breast. He lets me change him into his female avatar, which he can’t stand.
“Yes.”
“I’m letting you in.”
Got him.
I am inside of Jim’s mind. Here is the control panel, and here is the syringe with NES-sp (self-pity). He emptied a dozen of them. He packs them with a really potent solution, of his own making. Part of it is his, and part is Krotkie’s recipe. They used to shoot up NES-sp together so much that they were known to huddle and cry for days, and weeks without stopping.
The corrupting, heavy NES-sp shocks his system to smithereens, causing US ALL to suffer deeply.
I remove all syringes and hand them to Moretr, who appears right after me, not that i opened the door of Jim’s soul from the inside.
“It is regretful that you are full of shit, Uolles.” James is relaxed and he lets me do whatever I find necessary inside of his mind. He also has hard time pronouncing my name correctly when he is calm.
I like it when he says my name this way. It is exotic. It excites me.
“I detect a huge childhood trauma in your life. A trauma of such gargantuan proportions that you swore off the Covenant entirely. There is a sigil on those events, and I will not lift it. You will tell me when you are ready, if at all. I may not detect hate per se, but I get a tight-upper lip attitude you took up.
sherzahd@gmail.com
Jim’s personal channel came up at 2:54 am. He must have used the bridgeplate in his mind, as he “slept”.
My right hand got warm, enough for me to wake up. The record on Jim’s channel began as he was sleeping by my side with his face into Henry’s back.
I got up and visualised my bridgeplate under my right hand. It started out as white and red, but then they found out in the process, tat the best color was green and white, and it worked the best way when Jim united three of them.
Mine was just one, but it is enough!
Jim’s record transpired right from the fuzzy pale-green middle:
“I just caught the machine saying. “Oh, see? These people have ignored your email. HURT THE OCULUM FOR THAT?”
Oh, jeez, don’t do that! We ALL are going to get hurt. I want to say to James, but his mind is out of reach. I can’t influence him in any way.
“I KNEW I was going to be in pain, but I KNEW that FATHER was ALSO going to be in a lot of pain, if I “hurt the Oculum”. Deep down inside I CAUGHT THE THOUGHT of THE ORIGINAL PLOT TO HIRT FATHER FOR “abandoning me”.
The WHOLE IDEA of my escape was to get hurt, to get Father hurt, and blame Father for that.
I think I know how NOT TO HURT MYSELF AND FATHER again.
I just have to figure out a way to get out of habit of stabbing myself in the Oculum when things don’t go my way.
Get off the tracks, where I placed myself, come next train of events.
How?
The grudge was my best weapon, always.
Jesus, the task of not hurting myself for “being forgotten” is insurmountable, considering the fact that in one month the British project will be over.
Crying deeply already.
Hating those happy fuckers already.
THEY will move to the next project.
I WILL be discarded or a long time again.
See, the ego is happy now!
It managed to get me to hurt myself.
Is that what I wanted?
No! Obviously, not.
“Look into the past now?” The Stupid inquires again SUBSERVIENTLY!!! Can you believe the tone I set up to confuse myself as to the purpose of the ego-program? “Must we hurt the Oculum more by talking about how you were so very forgotten in Iziran Hanen for two decades with a crazy man, while so many were leading fun life?”
Blyat! I am deeply bitter again.
How do I get from this bitterness to “Loyalty, Honor, Service”?
I can’t. Stuck in NES-sp again. Here we go. Now I brought myself down instead of LOOKING FORWARD TO THE ASSIGNMENT.
Father, I pushed myself into the cauldron of deep regret again! Please, help me!
I WANT to be happy, but I fell into Krotkie self-destruction path. Always afraid that “this project is the last one”. My Prince, I literally do not see a way out of sadness. How can I be wearing the cloak of sadness, when just about everyone I know is envious of my life?!”
The second line of text was from Prince Moretr. Well, the sentient being is, first, not really “here”, and, second, never really sleeps.
“Let me see, James. Please, give me two to four hours to penetrate your reality. I will fix everything by midday.”
James lets go of Moretr and continues to float in the sour soup of his thoughts.
“I’ve got a sore inside of my mouth. I need to make an appt to Dr. Dane.” He dictates to himself. “The main ting is to STOP EXPERIENCING FEAR. That one is the most harmful. Whatever happens to my BODY is INCONSEQUENTIAL,you stupid ego. Quit trying to scare me with a “slow and painful descent to death.”
There is NO death!”
James, or my James. I will be sixty one this year.
But I know what he says to that. “At least you GOT TO LIVE A LIFE OF GRACE, where you were respected and employed for your talents.”
My heart bleeds for him so. But if he does not make it, no one will make it. And we need him to sequence every single strand of ego-programming.
A few minutes of inaction as my bridgeplate glows brighter green due to the input of Jim’s enormous energy. The energy is not his. It is of God. But you have to be a vessel strong enough to hold this much.
“I just can’t seem to break out of negative thinking. Of all the things I COULD BE DOING instead of being beaten by H.M.”
“He loves you very much, James. You are the only sunshine in his ego-confinement.”
This line has wider text, deeper in color. It is NOT Prince Moretr.
“I know, Father.”
Yeah, oh, yeah. This is Melekh Shel Zahav. The closest to God a mere mortal could ever hear.
“Be strong. You will see.”
“Thank you. Once you are here, I feel like an ant, lifted from deep in the grass, and shown, that the path back to the pavement is only inches away! It is impossible to argue with You, as You lift me out of the grass to show that it is not long until we are done with all the trials.”
“There you go.”
And I saw it, too. A Hand lifted Jim to see where he really was. We ARE almost Home.
The Spiral Staircase creaks just enough for me to glance up.
Matushka comes down in a white lacy nightie.
“Did the staircase creak too much under my weight?” Matushka whispers.
She is conscious about her weight.
“How did you know what I relayed to the bridgeplate?”
“After Mr. Kellspell committed a burglary with a purpose of sexual assault on my husband, he was given to me at 25%. I am inside of his mind at 25%, Wallace. And as a victim of his crime I was given direct access. I do not need a bridgeplate to know what is going on in his head.”
Remarkable. She explains it as something very easy to obtain, but you have to have a pretty high level yourself to be equalized with Jim’s mind.
I meant, high level of pain.
Matushka lights up a cigarette and walks to the large window that was created to extend the light coming from the sliding door when the north bedroom wall was removed.
Mr. Rockford sighs in his sleep and stirs. He’s been sleeping in Jim’s bed ever since I brought him in three months ago. Jim adores his Alpha, even after his Alpha went down in disgrace.
“It is hard to believe that our trials will EVER be over, but we ARE very close, Wallace.”
“I am afraid of the END!” I shake my head in the dark, watching her outline against the window, and a spark of her cigarette.
“I am five years your senior, Wallace. I should be afraid more!” Matushka chuckles and fixes the vase with roses on the tea table. The roses she grew in the garden she created. Right outside the back door, where the holly hedge used to be, which Mr. Milrgam used to trim, and into which Jim used to pee, and sometimes puke when he had too much whiskey.
That hedge held almost two years worth of history, it was mercilessly abused by many of us, and it had to give way to a BETTER ARRANGEMENT.
“4:23am, Wallace.” Matushka finishes her cigarette and puts it out into an ashtray on the table. “Any more records from Jim?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“You know why?” She waves her hand at me, on the way back upstairs.
“Why?” I ask into the darkness, as she ascends.
“Because we distracted him from hurting himself. I noticed it before. When he’d start chewing his bit - all I had to do was come down and start doing mundane, unrelated things. He’d tune into my mind, and be forced to let go of himself.”
Richard sighs again, tosses and turns, crumpling up the sheets.
“So, you saved him just now?” I ask, breathless.
“I think we saved each other a while ago.”
She is now completely gone.
She came over, influenced James, calmed him down, and went back to bed. Genius.
I remain alone for a while, monitoring the bridgeplate for more signs of Jim’s distress.
But none comes.
Astonished, I climb back to bed between Jim and Henry (always huddled together when Henry comes to sleep here), and restless, sweating Richard.
7:21am Henry and Richard went upstairs to use Dr. Michael’s bathroom and shower, because James has locked himself in ours. I never could sleep, so I did my morning routine in the bathroom BEFORE Kellspell got up.
I am monitoring his bridgeplate. Jim is in a lot of pain. He should not be, but he is tormenting himself, us, and Father.
“My Prince, I know HOW not to be in pain. Not use the Tool of Comparison with others. Question is - why should I NOT use the Tool on myself?”
“Please carry on, James. I am on it. I am addressing the issues as we speak.” Moretr always goes for buying more time with distraught James.
“The Lost Man is back to haunt me. He is not getting in here.”
“It is your right to refuse to see people, of course.”
“OK. Good. Let him frolic with his enormous money looking for new projects. What sweet freedom! Must be good life. Well, fuck him. There is nothing I can do about it.”
Henry comes down the Spiral Staircase with the towel over his shoulder and wet hair. As he crosses the Mood Rug, it ignites in yellowish-red.
“You should not let James attack anyone.” Henry reads Jim’s session with Prince Moretr over my shoulder.
“Moretr is dealing with him now.” I respond. And if Moretr can’t handle the pissed-off James, what can I do?
“You will have your own money and time before we call you, enough to say that you experienced freedom.” Moretr responds in deep bold green.
“OK. I believe that. I will have it before I die, then. Just to taste. Because so far my evaluation of this gig is really low, my Prince. I am seeing dumb people getting all the opportunities, and spending their life having fun, while my talents go unnoticed and, of course, unreimbursed. Also, in the last 40 years I have received an unfairly large share of beatings. If anyone is short on those experiences, I am here to help.”
“It is going to become very good, very sweet, very soon, James.” You might think that Moretr is placating Jim, but I think the Andromedan prince is just stating the fact.
But Jim does not react to “reward in the future”. Too weary to carry on, he says.
Sitting in the bedroom, I can hear James flushing the toilet in the bathroom.
“Isaak Lvovich stole my gun. I got another one.” Appears on the bridgeplate. “My Lady Tigress took away that gun. Fine. Since I am no longer allowed to shoot at photographs of those I believe got more than me in the most unfair of ways, I can still show my disdain in a peaceful way. Watch this.”
The text of Jim’s message is deep red, glowing anger. I can almost feel the packed heat of decades spent laying in wait, palpable heat coming from the letters on the bridgeplate.
“See this piece of paper? This is The Lost Man.”
I hear behind me in the bathroom the toilet being flushed again.
“Now he was washed away from my life. In my mind he belongs in the sewage. He, and everything he had done. Why? Because I DID NOT GET TO DO ANYTHING I WANTED! BECAUSE HE GOT ALL MY GRACE AND MY MONEY. So, enjoy MY MONEY in the toilet, you fucker.”
I get so carried away by the bloody drama, and Jim’s raw suffering, that I WAKE UP to Henry sobbing on the bed. How did he get on the bed - I did not see. When did he start crying, I totally missed.
Henry’s inconsolable behaviour and his stiff pose makes the atmosphere that much more saturated with emotional devastation.
“Are you embarrassed for James?” I ask him, not sure if I even want this conversation.
The electrifying silence lasts, possibly, forever. During which there are no more messages from James on the bridgeplate.
“Yes.” Lord Carlton finally responds in his deep voice. “All this will come out. I will end up looking the Lost Man in the eye and explaining my mate’s shameful outbursts of anger, like I had to do the LAST time…”
“So, tell the Lost Man that James spent his whole life coiled up like a snake, waiting for his chance. He got a spark of hope when you arranged for the British project. Now he senses the end of that. He is very upset. He feels like a man in the desert. 40 years in the desert, truly, Henry. 40 years, one gulp of water. And he is hurt to see the Lost Man swimming in the waterfall, and he believes that the Lost Man took more than his share.”
In response Henry whispers something into his hands without raising his eyes on me.
I think better than asking him to repeat himself.
It’s 8:38 am, and Jim needs to get ready for school at 9am. The classroom he used to occupy to work with Uri Kumlatov got illusion-panelled into the quarters for Jaguar, Tigress and Uncle Albert.
Temporarily, James goes into the backyard and studies there, with Milgram’s apartment windows right above him, and Matushka’s roses behind him.
But right now he is drunk, unshaven, and probably just in his underwear, flushing down the toilet the papers with Lost Man’s name on them.
“What I see is SOME PEOPLE GETTING AN EASY ROUTE, or getting reimbursed more than their purse can ever take. I WAS GIVEN A TREMENDOUSLY HARD, thankless segment of work. I spent my life first caring for my mother for 20 years, and then I was moved into another cage to take care of another sick puppy.”
James drinks out of the bottle, while Henry is crying on the bed. Right now he is just laying there with his face in the pillow, pressed by his heavy thoughts.
A filming set is not a very private setting.
Henry hides his face in the pillows like an ostrich his head in the sand. A broken man now, all grace gone from his appearance.
This is a reality show, filmed and broadcasted by the Arkchils. The guys who NEVER FELL ASLEEP. So, none of us get a single moment of privacy. Even those of us who’s bedrooms have four walls.
And I can say that I’m stuck with the sexual offenders in the bedroom with only three walls. To deprive them of privacy. I could say that I’m “stuck”, but I will not say that. I love James with all my heart, and I’m HONORED to be stuck with him.
“I hate that fucker!!!”
The door opens as James screams, gulping down alcohol. “He gets to LIVE A LIFE!!! And I was thrown under a bulldozer, like a log.”
Oh, watch me cry. Watch me bleed ALL my regrets in life. Jim’s breakdowns are as devastating, as they are healing. I can cry with him, and let out all MY pain.
Hypnotised by Jim’s raw performance, I want to shed the last pretences, too, and run out to the lawn, and scream into the skies. Scream for release. If release is not possible, then scream for the relief.
“Are you… Are you denouncing me for my behaviour?” James stares at me with bloodshot eyes on the face with five o’clock shadows.
“Give me that bottle of “Uncle Nearest”, Jim.” I cut him short. There is no more need for words.
8 51 am. I drink with him.
“The Lost Man took my share.” James says slowly, alcohol running down his chin.
“You are the Servant of God, who was given The Hardest Job.” I say through my tears.
“How do I take joy in that?” Jim responds just with just his lips, his suffering is as dense as the mass of a neutron star.
“How do you take joy in martyrdom, when everyone always told you how absurd, foolish and insane your choice in life was?”
3 pm The class with Kumlatov was a disaster. James could not answer a single question, and finally Moretr (who is always aware of everything that is going on) came and picked Jim up. His first question was: “what drugs did you take?”. Jim confessed to making a cocktail out of NES-Im (Impatience), NES-dt (distrust for the Help) and NES-sp (his favourite self-pity).
They went for a walk in the woods after that, and Moretr logically disabled every single twisted protocol that was hurting Jim.
A funny exchange took place right after Moretr’s Arkabin brought Jim back from the walk (Kellspell is normally confined to our bedroom, and is not allowed unescorted anywhere on the premises, for the safety of the guests).
“Give me my boy back!” Tigress was apparently looking for James. “And get out of here! I don’t trust aliens as far as I can throw them!”
“Judging by your size, ma’am, you can’t throw me very far.” The massive Arkabin responded, grinning.
“Don’t judge HER by her size!” Jim went after the retreating Arkabin, and slid the door shut after him.
After he was done helping Tigress, and she let him go begrudgingly, Jim went right back to his poison-laced bone.
“I know! I will bury my creative self. I will kill every hope that ANYONE EVER will use my talents!” Kellspell starts a cigarette with a theatrical smile.
Whatever Matushka said or did, it did not work.
Whatever Moretr said or did, it did not work.
“Why would you do that? You are refined, artistic, and gentle. You will be called to duty before you know it.”
“Really, Wallace?!” James closes his eyes, and does not open them again for the next hour.
“Give it time, Wallace. Give it time.” I hear Moretr’s voice in my head, and it cools me off somehow. We just need to push through this very painful moment.
“What CAN you do for me, James?”
“Henry, we’ve been arguing all waning moon. I can do anything for you, but to jump from a Marxist to a Royalist in one night?”
“That’s where I am, James. That’s where all my family’s investments are. Everything they ever had is with the Empire! I was dedicated AT BIRTH to the Empire! I NEED you in my boat! Help us save the Empire.”
“Jesus Christ, Henry… When we started out, all I needed to do to have you was to save your parents!”
“James, Dr. Michael wants you to save 15 million of his followers. You are not going to nickel and dime me. This is not the conversation I would like to have at 7 pm at night after a hard day’s work.”
“Maybe we need to have this discussion tomorrow, then, Henry…” James shakes his head in disbelief.
“Maybe I need to report to His Highness today. Go to the bathroom, leave your Marxist there and find a way to come back Royalist. I know you have it in you. Take your time. See you back in 15 minutes.”
Exactly 15 minutes later, James is back from the bathroom. Matushka and Lady Anne stop their work (they are just about done cleaning up after dinner). We started having dinner at the tea table by the Spiral Staircase.
Fourteen months before I arrived, there was no one on the Compound but Mr. Rubinstein, who came as soon as he could, four years prior, to help prepare the set for filming.
Jim and Sheba were first, brought from a cabin in the woods, where they were spending their “honeymoon”, fully determined to start a family. That did not work out so well :). But maybe it was not meant to be.
Three months after that Henry arrived with his retinue.
By spring Krotkie was given to James to carry him to term for MEOL (Jim did not know that then).
Then there was Isaak Milgram and Kyle Merritt.
Now the premises and surrounding woods are full of what James calls “the fat cats” (just about all the guests arrived on Demetra Visa).;
Richard is sitting on his chair with his head down, as James emerges from the bathroom, and walks by him to get on the Mood Rug.
“How long will I be chained to the Chair Of Shame, James?” Rockford says right as Jim is coming through. “Maybe I didn’t do anything to you.”
“Maybe you are not being punished for me. I saw you making out with Kate on live air while your wife was home alone.”
“Why is Smith allowed to make out with YOU, while HIS wife is home alone?” Rockford challenges Jim in a whisper.
“You darn well know why.” James looks up to Dr. Michael’s apartment windows. “Because she is not his WIFE.”
Pulling himself together after an exchange with his Alpha, James steps on the rug for it to flash and roll crimson-red with yellowish edges.
“Henry, everyone.” Jim bows theatrically. “I can’t turn from a Marxist to a Royalist in 15 minutes… Is there anything ELSE heroic I can do while this is baking?”
“Yes.” Henry is suddenly jubilant. In a mocking sort of way. James, beware… “Tigress has asked you to quit smoking.”
Jim raises his brows, and a large gray spot spreads on the rug underneath him. Gray is mostly the color of fear. It could be that your fear will be reflected on the Rug as another color, or, gray, caused by another person could mean something else, but in 89% of cases it is distrust for God’s help. Which is what fear is.
“What is next on this very difficult list?” Jim returns the reply rather quickly, his face going pale. “Surely, we have run out of the Herculean tasks for me to do…”
“I will let you decide that. EVERYONE is asking you to quit listening to “your” ego. Your weakness is costing us all… me… a lot.” Henry breaks down, falls on the bed, and rubs his face with his hands.
“Well…” James stares down at the gray turning even darker at the epicentre of his feet, outwards. It looks like a puppy pooped all over itself (having been scared shitless, I assume). “OK. Become a Royalist, quit smoking and abandon “your” ego, all in one day. Let’s isolate the sequence and write the algorithm, then.”
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil, and...
Chapter 131 (from 119) We Will Pass Unnoticed
SPRING MEMORANDUM
Is meant to help me keep my Oculum safely OUT of the ego-range.
But where do you go? Father has created a safety Net for me!
Broken down into 30 sec segments:
I am NOT to leave MYSELF unattended in my head.
I am not to “look the other way”, while the dumb machine is playing Father’s Tool mindlessly (mind chat), burning through my hard-earned karmic credits, given to me by Father.
I STAY FOCUSED ON FATHER. The Purest Source Of Truth.
THIS IS WHY I make my whole team idle!
Not “because of my life” - this is what the ego IS TOLD BY ME to feed me (James, come on, fuck, wake up, do we want Henry, or not?)
I HOLD ON TO FATHER!
Too lazy to hold on to Father?
Too unfocused to keep MY (HIS) most precious Oculum ABOVE the water line?
Once unattended, I roll down - A VERY UNPLEASANT THING WILL HAPPEN - I come within the zone of the influence of the dumb tape recorder, I SIT THERE FOR FIVE MINUTES, listening STUPIDLY.
And here I am, smoking too much again, attacking Henry.
I’M A DRUG-ADDICTED ASSHOLE not because of MY LIFE,
But because I listen to the ego!!!
Once I catch myself having “rolled down and listening”,
I PULL AWAY IMMEDIATELY
by using my green bridgeplate triage, consisting of Loyalty, Honor, Service.
I stop my sliding by placing it right where infrared turns into ultraviolet, preventing further escape.
STAY THERE until Father picks me up.
Visualise that. Take it seriously.
I MUST remember that Henry is MINE. Once I internalise him, I can’t aim to hurt him. He is always inside of me, He is hurt - I will get hurt.
The machine is programmed to believe that whoever got “more than me” Is the one to blame for my problems. SO, IT DIRECTS ME TO ATTACK THOSE “WHO GOT MORE”.
JAMES, PLEASE, WAKE UP from this poison-induced thinking!
I must be outside of the “game” now! Father is HERE. He is working on giving me back EVERYTHING I forgot I had when I took poison.
MUST STOP HURTING HENRY.
How can I think that I’m right?
This is what H.M. is doing to me, and I hate it.
But then I inflict the same upon HENRY, who is defenceless in front of me.
Jesus, the machine is making me attack MY MOST BELOVED MAN.
IT has an IQ of 14, thinking it is “helping me restore justice”. But MY IQ is 120, AND in the Presence of Father (Awakened State of Mind).
And I ALLOW MYSELF to be brainwashed like an idiot?!
HOW do I hurt Henry?
I roll down, unattended.
The machine tells me against Henry.
I allow the incorrect protocols to penetrate my psyche,
LAZY to LOOK UP to Father.
THINKING that “a bit of sweet talk from the machine can’t hurt too much”
THEN I use the Tool of Comparison to hurt my most precious Henry.
And, of course, myself.
VERY IMPORTANT:
I smoke, because I want to get relief from what the machine tells me.
Not from WHAT MY LIFE IS, but what the machine TELLS me my life is!
The less I listen to the dumb machine, the less I smoke.
These two are interdependent, and can be tied up and dealt with thusly.
As for converting from a Marxist to a Royalist? Consider it done. This is what Henry wants. Let’s get back to more important things.
HOW THE MACHINE TRIES TO SCARE ME
AND HOW TO IGNORE IT:
The machine says: IT’S THE END! YOU ARE FINISHED! IT’S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE!
And I IGNORE the RECORDING.
I do not talk to it anymore.
It is programmed to say something it believes is true, and it wants to “help” me by saying it.
But I programmed it to keep me in the state of poisonous mind.
THEREFORE:
Whatever happens, whatever I feel - I do not come to the machine for comfort. I will only receive distorted protocols meant to make things worse.
That is why I can’t talk to the machine.
It tells me that it is my “friend”.
It tells me that it is my “strength”.
But it does not know that I loaded it with INTENTIONALLY incorrect protocols to fuck myself up.
That is why I can no longer come to the machine no matter what it says, no matter how much it calls - it is HURTFUL for me to listen to it.
I come to my ALL-POWERFUL FATHER. He can HEAL ME ALWAYS.
Every little scratch I get, the machine is trying to turn into a BIG DEAL.
It was PROGRAMMED to make me destroy my own balance.
But My Eternal and All-Powerful Father is HERE.
He will envelop me in His Light, and… here it is happening…
Father is wrapping me in His Light, and healing me COMPLETELY.
And my Lady Tigress is helping me to quit smoking. My Father wants me to.
I inhale…. I exhale….
Father is with me! He is Here.
He is giving me the SAFETY NET, where I can place my Oculum, saving it from the ego-programming.
Father says: good job on everything. However, let’s see where else you are giving the energy to the ego (in your weak, sleeping state of mind believing you are “adding strength” to yourself, but actually flushing your karmic credits down the ego-toilet).
What time of the hour, and why?
Allocating EVERY POINT of the HOUR will allow you to prevent your Oculum ending up within ego-range.
New algorithm. Run this, and you will quit hurting, and you will be looking forward to another day instead of hating or fearing it.
The Golden Staircase to Heaven, step by step:
57: Service file (science)
00: Service
15:
27: Service file (science)
30: Service
45:
57:
00:
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
6:00 am:
10 - 11 Holy Hour:
10 57: Service file (science)
11 00: Service
11 15:
11 27: Service file (science)
11 30: Service
11 45:
11 57: Service file (science)
12 00:
12:00 pm : Vial of Loyalty
2
4:00 pm Vial of Loyalty
6
Joy is coming to me!
Reciting of fards
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil, and...
CHAPTER 130 (from 119) An Event of Shallow Monoclinic Signature
(Plus four chapters in Russian on
Proza.ru under Äæåéìñ Êåëëñïåëë
Jameskellspell
Mmikkelsen65
griffinfrank@mail.ru)
“In my world God always has the last word, not the ego. For as long as I ensure that rule, I will never be in pain.”
James Kellspell, to me.
Then I went to the bathroom (the only private place I could find) and I cried. Apparently, I always let “my” ego win the argument in my head. This is why, as per James, I am so miserable. And not because of my age, at which, every ambulance siren in town is for you.
Cast:
James Kellspell, the Regent of MEOL
(Says here we secured the planet. We haven’t secured squat yet)
Of Levin Corporation: Lady Lion (Tia Demetra)
Under the aegis of Jaguar & Tigress
Lord Henry Carlton, Reg. J.Kellspell’s First Omega
Mr. Wallace Smith as Reg. J.Kellspell’s Personal Arkchil Operator
(And Jim’s third omega. Let’s see, it’s Henry(Krotkie), then me, yeah, third)
Mr. Richard Rockford as Reg. J.Kellspell press secretary
(He would have been Reg.J.Kellspell’s Alpha, had he not fallen from Grace)
Mr. Kyle Merritt, Lord Henry Carlton’s First Omega
St. Lady Anne (Jim cries every day with joy, she is the first one to achieve martyrdom in his team)
Mr. Isaak Milgram (drinking and eating pizza upstairs until Jim tells him why innocents suffered)
H.M., Jim’s underage son (too young to know better)
Mr. Leonard Rubinstein (wanting nothing for himself, but Krista)
With support of: Deborra and Hugh Michael Family Foundation
“Now, James, you are already within a reach and a half from the Original Source.” Albert brings up Jim’s green triage of bridgeplates under his left hand, and shows James where he is in his Journey Home.
Very close, I see in awe.
Our King is left-handed, I realize.
“And this is what the ego does.” Albert projects an image of the “microchip” with a plume of dark cloud on top of it, indicating that it contains harmful protocols.
“So, all the ego-device does is turn my negative feelings into words. My negative prisms are born of ego’s incorrect protocols.” James watches Uncle Albert draw a chart on the bridgeplate. “I must find away not to inhale the harmful protocols that come from it, then.”
“Almost like that. You are very, very close.”
“Jesus Christ, Uncle Albert, you can use Andromedan technology! So much for being from 19th century!”
Albert smiles.
“I have “ascended”, my daughter says, but I see it more like “I am back Home with God again”.
“That’s cool, Uncle Albert. Um… Mates and your… umm.. daughter… are telling me to tell you that you are my qualified boss, sir!” James suddenly wakes up to the purpose of his meeting with Uncle Albert.
Or, rather, I nudged him, Dr. Michael nodded at him, and HENRY frowned at him. It took Jim this long to wake up.
And for a good reason. Our Uncle Albert is the most amazing one!
Albert smiles at James. He is amused.
And my heart sings. I see that Albert is no longer in pain.
“Oh, no, wait, I totally forgot why I am here!” There is panic in Jim’s voice. But luckily, he has not lost visual with us. Mr. Rockford is mouthing the words.;
“Richard knows what I must say! Let me hear!” And James sees it. “Wait… The wind, the resistance between levels is very noisy. I must hear him with my heart. He is saying: “WE ACCEPT YOU AS OUR RIGHTFUL RULER”. No, bitches, honestly, are you laughing? WTF? I seem to have translated it incorrectly the first time, sir, and the mates are having a good time at my expense!”
Being on Level 2 with me, while his mind is on Level 98, James is holding my hand, reaching out to our dearest King. I squeeze Jim’s hand in support, but he takes it as scorn.
“Wallace, so, I relayed it with a different word. “Qualified boss”, “rightful ruler”, what’s the difference? I’m a Marxist! Your royalist lingo is unfamiliar to me!”
“Shhh...” I whisper into his neck, and Jim relaxes. He will be very surprised to see how Marxism in Russia had really morphed into longing for the Rightful Ruler.
Henry came into our bedroom, lost and distraught. Did not say a word to me, and now he is preparing for bed. Not in his Chambers, but here. Which is totally fine, but why long face?
Matushka just finished in her rose garden, kissed studying Jim in the cheek, and went upstairs.
“I wish I was not such a procrastinator. Then I would not have to ask for “compassion” that H.M. never had and will never have for me. And why do I ask H.M. for it? I never asked HENRY for compassion!” James finishes narrating his daily emotional report, and Henry has just about had enough.
Henry literally walked in a dark cloud as the sun was going down. And he stayed like that, going through Jim’s belongings, and obviously, searching for booze and weapons behind every curtain, under every rug. And even in the garbage can.
I never know if I should access Lord Carlton’s personal Arkchil Channel, or wait until he explains himself.
“And why would you, James?” Henry interjects. “It’s not “compassion” that you want. Not two hours ago I found this bottle of whiskey underneath your bed!” Henry lifts the half-finished bottle of “Uncle Nearest” in front of Jim’s face. “All you care about is wait till nightfall to get hammered out of your mind, and you leave me, Wallace, Richard, and all of us to pick up the pieces!”
Discovered, Jim shows no fear, embarrassment, or hesitation, and goes straight for the counter-attack.
“You mentioned yourself twice, Henry…“ Some people FINISH with a punchline. James starts with it. “I will tell you why I get hammered every night. How much money have you made this year?”
Henry is taken aback by Jim’s aggressiveness, and lack of remorse, but pulls himself together nevertheless.
“It’s not about the money, James! We have bigger fish to fry!” Lord Carlton moves to the bed, peels off the electrical blanket, and fluffs up the pillows.
“Henry, I love you. I do.” James catches his First Spouse from behind. “But…”
“But what? Tell me more.” Henry’s deep voice breaks. He is now fixing the sheets on our bed, studying Jim’s place, staring at the outline of his body in crumpled dark-blue, while not letting go of Jim’s bottle of Uncle Nearest.
James rubs his face on Henry’s back, then grabs his hips in a subduing, powerful motion, making Henry bend over.
And Henry is a large man. Every time I watch them, I see David going after Goliath.
Goliath just folds, waiting to be undressed, taken, ravaged.
“I love you, Henry… But…”
Jim straightens up and walks around the bed to face Henry.
“…but I need my bottle back.”
And for half an hour, in the darkening back yard, James sits and drinks the whiskey, impeded by no one.
Half an hour later, Henry comes out with a reconciliatory pack of cigarettes. Henry may be aggressive, but he is an omega, just like me. And “reconciliation” is our middle name.
Henry dares not say a word, and they sit there a while longer.;
“You are right, it is not about money.” James finally says. He is very drunk, but he speaks rather coherently. “God strike me down, if I ever cared about money in life. It is about BEING RESPECTED and NEEDED, Henry. You are spending your life being RESPECTED AND NEEDED, and I’m spending my life being beaten every day.”
Henry lifts his head and looks at me through the sliding glass door.
I shake my head. What can I say? I myself got in trouble today. I almost got hit in the face for saying that if Jim was my pregnant wife, I’d get on my knees every day and kiss his belly.
James can’t imagine his partner being this nice, unless he wants sex. He told me to shut up before he hit me. He accused me of saying these sweet things just to taunt him. Such life does not exist, he said. Such men do not exist. Such men do not exist, he repeated with a challenge. And if they do exist, what good does it do for me, he added bitterly. I’m locked in the Covenant with a man who knows no compassion.”
Here he goes again.
“I was told by God, that I must uphold the Covenant I signed with this man. Only death can end my suffering, then. Since I can’t wish for HIM to be dead, then I wish for myself to be dead. That is why I get hammered every night, that is why, Henry. I’m just killing time waiting to be dead, thus, free from the Covenant with this man. Therefore, no more pain, that comes from this enormous motherfucking henchman I am being forced to deal with. In this scenario I have nothing to look forward to but my early demise. Hopefully, early. But, as it goes, this may last for another good fifteen years. I am sentenced to another fifteen years of this cross. Remember the joke about the nun’s arthritis? Jesus was on the cross for only three hours.”
“What happens when the night is over, and you must go to bed? Lay by my side with dragon breath, James?”
“About that, Henry. You precisely pinpointed the moment when alcohol ends and reality begins. Again. Thank you. Like I said. No one gives a shit as to WHY I drink. Everyone wants me to be composed, sober and useful on the set. And I will be. Come morning, Henry, I will be.”
Once I feel ego-programming coming in:
INCORRECT CONNECTION: Took my eyes off His Beautiful Face…
Incorrect connection BLOCKED (Loyalty-Honor-Service Bridgeplate)
CORRECT CONNECTION RESTORED: I am now looking in the Eyes of my Father
“The ego-acid fills the void created by ME NOT BEING FILLED WITH YOU. It is when I FORGET WHO WE ARE TO EACH OTHER, and stop looking into Your Eyes.
Then I get filled up with ego-poison. Like rain gushing from above. When that happens, and I drown in bitterness, I do not talk to it, I do not yell at it, I water-proof (ego-proof) my house.
The protocol to ego-proof your house is three green bridgeplates: “LOYALTY - HONOR -SERVICE”. Make a copy, shift to the right, press down, and the 80mph wind blows the tape recorder with ego-programming in the chamber way the fuck out of your moment. Flush the ego-protocol OUT of your MOMENT. You deprive it of the control over you. Then start a NEW moment by LOOKING into God’s Eyes, and listening to HIS interpretation of reality, not the ego-interpretation.”
Jim is talking quietly into his bridgeplate, doing a class with Uri Kumlatov, as he sits in bed with Henry sleeping by his side. It is 8 am in the morning.
“We are invited for a breakfast in the dining room.” I announce.
“Tiho! Genri prigrelsa.” Jim answers, patting his precious Royal mate’s head on the pillow by his side. My bridgeplate gives the translation directly from his mind, relaying not just words, but also the speaker’s mood. It means: “Quiet! Henry got cozy here with me after I fucked him. I must hold him, and give him love and warmth, and reassure him, that he is never alone on his path. Then and only then will I get up and eat.”
“I watched “The Mauritanian” yesterday.” I say just to make small talk. “Could you survive something like that and not kill yourself?”
“I have ten minutes until my next class.” James jerks with his whole body at the sound of my voice. There is THIS MUCH tension in him. “I tried to drown myself in the pool in a million dollar house, while eating what I wanted, and drinking, and smoking all the drugs I could have. Just to give you an idea of the level of my adversity tolerance. I might not need Guantanamo to want to off myself. In other words, I am NOT a martyr material!”
Am I? Am I “martyr material’?
I guess, the question is not “how do you survive it”, but, rather, “why”.
“But if you had to, would you try and not kill yourself? What would be your incentive?”
“Man, “if I had to”… Why? Who says I have to survive it? Certainly, I would not care to survive it just to “get back to my home country and see my family again”. That’s not an incentive for me. My family is what I escaped. There will never be any understanding there. Good riddance. So, if I got caught in a dragnet, and I’m innocent, and I was being held… Wallace, come on. I am in SO MUCH PAIN already that I am ALWAYS one step away from a complete breakdown. I do not need to be tortured for 14 years to bring me down. I am already so fucking down, all they needed to do was yell at me once, and I’d make a rope out of sheets and hang myself that night. So, honestly, I don’t even know why you’re bringing this up WITH ME. Now, if you excuse me, I have a lesson with Mielada.”
But there is no connection. James goes on Level 1, tries and tries and tries. H.M. comes in and tells him - no internet today. James is pissed. He is looking at me with tired eyes.
Henry gets up, and gets dressed.
“Fuck! I need to teach English to the kid, and I can’t get through!!!” James growls. “Henry, have you watched this movie called “Mauritanian”?.
“No”. Lord Carlton runs his hand through his hair and goes to the bathroom.
James eyes Henry’s formidable, enviable physique.
“Would you survive something like that?” James throws at Henry’s back.
“I have to get ready for the interview.” Henry answers from the bathroom, and then all we can hear is door slamming, and shower being turned on.
“What’s up HIS ass?” James sighs.
“And by ‘a project to look forward to’ I mean exactly that. Someone somewhere needs my writing skills. Someone, somewhere.”
“I see.” Henry’s eyes are intensely red. He was out all day, and he was crying.
I know where he was, but James does not. Kellspell may be upset now, but IF he finds out where Henry went, he will go ballistic.
“I must thank you for the “bone” you threw me from your table.” James smiles, and hugs Henry from behind. “I mean it in a good way. It was a very tasty bone. The British project lasted me all winter. You let me FEEL London, you let me EXPERIENCE being NEEDED. Well, all this is coming to an end. It will be over in one month. And I need to get used to the idea, that there are no more projects to look forward to. I must learn looking forward to getting old. A least for the next year. I say there will be a gap for one year. One year. Another year of non-stop pain and tears with my mentally ill son. He is getting better, though. He is. But I am facing another year of this. With nothing to look forward to but H.M.’s psychotic episodes. Do you understand that? No Grace in my life, just pain. Mine, AND his.”
And Henry understands that. He is crying again, but quietly, and with his back to James. “Whatever Grace you think I have, take some.”
“I can’t do that.” James shakes his head. “We both must learn to be patient. Prince Moretr is the only one who can touch the inner workings of this Mission.”
At the mention of Prince Moretr Henry winces, but remains silent. Only I know why.
James places his hands on Henry’s shoulders, and then runs his hand through Henry’s sweet short blond curls.
“How much longer can you wait?” Henry closes his eyes, enjoying Jim’s touch.
“I have a strong feeling I am in for 6 more months in Genesis 17, and then 6 more months back in Malachite Constellation” James shrugs dismissively. “… before any good news will come my way. I will be 48 by then.”
“That’s bullshit.” Henry sighs.
“It is.” James agrees. “I just made it up. It is easier for me to look into the future through this frame. This way I know, that if nothing else comes my way for a year, then, at least, I will have earned a right to have another psychotic episode about how all I am doing is suffering and looking forward to old age.”
“It should not be this way.” Henry shakes his head vigorously, and pulls a tissue from his pocket.
“But it is not as painful this way. NOT to look forward to anything cool. Just take it day by day. Follow through with my responsibilities. Drink because I must, smoke because it makes it easier, eat, and feel no taste of food. Then, sit there, and both fear and hope for some medical condition that will finally end this for me. Because, like this old joke goes, Jesus was on the cross for only three hours. I’ve been on it for 47 years. It will be 48 next year, and from there it will be a nice easy ride over the hill.”
“I want to find you before you become pickled in your own blood and tears.”
“I can say the same about you.” James smiles, and rubs Henry’s shoulders. “Of all of us you got the most Grace, but in five years since I knew you, I have not seen you have a single sincere smile, and all you do is cry. I mean, if THIS is how Grace tastes, then fuck it.”
“Two weeks ago, when you tried to break up with me by letter, you said that “I was enjoying my life”. Henry wipes his face with his hands. James is really making him suffer, and I can feel how strained he is.
“I’m sure you do, every now and then. But 70% of the time you are inside of your head thinking very depressed thoughts. I guess, my percentage is about the same.” James sticks his nose in Henry’s neck, and underneath the collar of his shirt, and inhales with a blissful expression.
“I want to help you.” Henry weeps quietly, his shoulders shuddering. But he stops briefly, absorbing the caress James lavishes upon his lovely Royal mate. “I want to share my “Grace” with you. I just don’t know how.”
“I appreciate that. Question is, why do you feel compelled to share your Grace with anyone? Why did you choose a loser like ME? You knew I was severely underserved. You knew I was chained to a mentally ill man by the Covenant I was not allowed to break. You knew my fate. Therefore, it was relatively easy to predict that I was going to whine about how unequal we are. Had you chosen someone of YOUR OWN level, Henry…”
“Please, James, you are hurting me…” Henry whispered, crumpling a piece of wet tissue his hands.
“You are hurting yourself, Henry. We would not be having this moronic convo about how my bowl only ever had three cereal bits in it, two of which I have already eaten, and yours is overflowing with more than you could ever eat… If you haven’t chosen me. When you chose me, you KNEW I was under a very heavy Covenant, didn’t you? What did you think was going to happen when you sent Krotkie to me?”
“James…” Henry closes his eyes, and throws his head back. “If you whipped me, I’d be in less pain.”
“That is the idea.” James nods confidently. “We will continue. Did you know I made Krotkie apologise for every cereal bit he had in his bowl? Did you know I wanted to kick him out more than once for being “Special In The Eyes Of God”, while I believed that I was not? Did you know how quietly he laid at my feet during my psychotic episodes when I’d shoot into photographs of my more successful colleagues? The only reason yours was not next in line was simply because you were not in the field of my view. And then, gradually, you were. That only leads me to a conclusion that you are a pain junkie, and a sucker for punishment. That’s why you are here. You are here for me to sink my teeth into you.”
Henry can’t take it anymore, he gets up abruptly, and runs out to the back yard.
"Mr Milgram!” Lord Carlton yells with his head up. “Give me something to hit myself with!”
James remains sitting on the bed with his eyes staring right in front of him, where Henry just sat.
A minute later Milgram’s apartment window opens, and some object wrapped in a bed sheet is thrown out.
I am terrified of what this might be. For all I know, Milgram in his grief cut off his finger, or something, and THIS is what we will find in the “package”.
Lord Carlton runs across the lawn, and picks up the wrapped object. Please, let this not be something gruesome.
An envelope falls out of it, with the name KRISTA on it in large letters.
Henry walks back and hands the envelope to James. He sniffs it, then unseals it carefully, and pulls out a note. He, then, drops the note and pins Henry to the wall with an irate stare.
“You did what? Is this true? Henry? HENRY!!! Why didn’t you talk to me first!!!???”
Oh? What is it that Milgram knows that pissed Jim off this much?
I pick up the note. It says: “Kellspell, you stupid fuck, Carlton is playing you, as always. He was at Moretr’s today and begged him to have mercy on you and give you another project to work on this summer.”
Apparently I was not the only one who knew where Henry spent almost all day today.
“James…” Henry takes a deep breath and unwraps the rest of the package, while looking at his mate imploringly.
“You went to Prince Moretr on my behalf? So, now I know what it is! I am a charity case for you, am I?! How long did you talk to him for, and what did you say?!!”
“I have talked to him today for many hours.” Henry admits, choking on his tears. “I asked him to consider what a good man you have become, and to ease your conditions.”
“Oh yeah? What do you care?” James shakes his head vigorously, as if trying to come to terms with what is going on. “Why is this aristocrat interested in wanting to improve the life of some dumb commoner, this is beyond me, Henry! What is your problem? Go enjoy your special life! Leave me to my grief, and my heavy Covenant! You can’t help me. Save yourself!”
At hearing that, Henry drops the bedsheet on the floor, and in his hands we see a bottle of dark amber whiskey. Lord Carlton pulls the cork out, and drinks.
Jim’s jaw drops and watches Henry in silent astonishment.
“Argg..” Henry stops between burning gulps. “What happened to “Red Label”?
“Mr. Milgram has switched from “Red Label” to “Uncle Nearest”. James finally gathers his scattered wits. “We both agree that it is a politically correct choice. The rest of you will drink what we give you to drink.”
“Thank you. Agreed.” Henry brushes the subject off.
“What did Moretr say?” James gets over the shock of Henry’s “betrayal”, and his public drinking. He is now curious.
“He said that ‘James will make a great teacher’.” Henry wipes his mouth with his hand, which I have never seen him do before, and hands the bottle to Richard, on his chair.
“Did he say when?”
“When the time comes. When you are ready.” Henry says as Richard drinks silently behind them.
James and Henry both sit on the bed side by side and do not say another word.
“Richard!” I whisper to Mr. Rockford. “Don’t be a pig. Pass me bottle, will ya?”
Interview topics:
“Blood Brothers”
Delano, Minnesota, 11 day hunger strike
“The rising moon, my Prince…” James is on the bed, with his head thrown back on the pillows. “Please tell me why I should not confront H.M. about being a rude motherfucker in bed? How is he going to learn to treat me better if I never told him what ails me? I needed to go to the bathroom, and he just lashed out at me. Why do I have to take it? I could talk to him.”
“You could.” Moretr nods.
“Then I will.” James gets up, hits his bridgeplate, and fades out.
And he did. Two hours later, he is back from Level 1, very drunk, but somewhat brighter.
“He apologised.” James says, bringing up his bridgeplate at his right hand.
“Good.” I respond, working on three things at once. One being going through Jim’s archival info for certain things I was asked to find.
“It is good, and I feel better. But it only changes things this much. I must study, but I have zero drive today. Too drunk. So I need to kill four hours before this day is over. The best way to do it is sit here and whine about how the British project will end in one month, and after that it is back to taking care of the mental patient, round the clock. Nothing else to look forward to.”
“Join the club.” I hate myself as I say it. But, surprisingly, shooting up NES-sp drug like that is acceptable here. Sheba, with all her professional approach to her job would indulge in wallowing in self-pity, especially on the rising moon. Jim would never miss an opportunity to join her.
“You are thinking about Sheba.” James notes. “We need a table here. So I could cry on it.” he makes a square motion with his hands at the foot of the bed.
“Use Matushka’s tea table.”
“She cried there today.” James sighs. “I am afraid of the multiplied depression. You know that compound depression is mind’s worst oppression?”
“Then cry here.” I suggest.
Jim sits on the bed, then goes and sits on the rug. It flashes dirty reddish-yellow.
“Why did she cry?” James asks me with his eyes closed.
“Dr. Michael advised her that death on Level 2 feels just as terrifying as on Level 1. He told her how he asked you and Krotkie to whip him to death just to see how it would feel here. You remember any of that?”
“U-huh.” Jim exhales and looks for his cigarettes. “We took turns, and I was dead tired, and half an hour later Dr. Michael still had heartbeat. But then Krotkie finished him, he is incomparably stronger than me. Do you realise what hard work that is to whip a man? Your hand literally goes numb. I wish I could smoke!!!”
Tigress ordered all his cigarettes removed for today. He smoked a whole pack while crying, drinking, and yelling in Russian in front of Isaak Milgram’s windows.
“Did Matushka cry about that?” He finally says, resigned to the fact that his cigarettes were taken away from him.
“No. Dr. Michael observed your psychotic episode yesterday, and told her that it was too dangerous for her to have any activities around you, on this floor. He reminded her of his dying experience on Level 2, and he did not want to see her experience the same. Granted, not getting whipped, but getting shot by you is a vivid possibility. This is when she cried. She refused to leave you. She made a decision not to wrap up her activities here. She said if anyone can pull her out of her depression, it would be you.”
James is silent now. That shut him up.
Knowing that sometimes others can only carry on when they rely on him makes him more stable. He would play with his own life, but not with the lives of those who surrendered to him.
Comes Richard Rockford. “Whoever wants to have dinner, Matushka and Lady Anne made English clam chowder. Can I borrow a cigarette from you, Mr. Kellspell?”
“No, Mr. Rockford. Tigress told Jaguar to take them from me.”
“Tomorrow is another day.” Richard whispers and sits on his chair.
He is not the only one in a lot of pain today. Or tomorrow. I could use a cigarette, too.
James, sitting with his back to me:
“Wallace, are you crying?”
“No, James.”
“I hear teardrops hitting the floor at the rate of twenty a minute. You sound like a leaky bucket.”
The laughter can be heard from the kitchen.
Everyone is laughing at me. I take a breath, and pretend to study the colours on my bridgeplate, while my heart squeezes and shakes like a lost dog on a snowy night.
“In the morning I am the weakest. The machine whines and whines about what I do not have, and how I am being hurt, or some event that is coming, and I must fear it… and it TOTALLY DISMISSES what I already have and the help I am given.” James takes a deep breath, laying on the bed, as Moretr stands over him, superimposed over the bed AND James.
“What do you tell it?”
“Go away, it is not true, God loves me and he will help me.” I say to it.
“What does it respond?”
“Oh!” James brushes it off. “I do not want to tell you, because it is NOT TRUE. But what it says SOUNDS true, and I am IN SO MUCH PAIN!”
“Please, tell me.” Moretr insists.
Jim hisses like a cat, whose tail got squeezed in the door.
“It is about the upcoming trip to Key West… H.M. has been raving for years that he wants to “fix things symbolically” by going to K.W., where we had an epic fight way back when we first were married. H.M. is ok, but “his” ego is very heavy. I have to drag HIM AND “his” ego. I KNOW you will be with me, but I am terrified of the K.W. trip we are going to take.”
“Why?” Moretr places his hand above Jim, and waves it there and back, determining the level of Jim’s contamination this morning with the poison of the machine.
“When losing his internal balance, H.M. lets “his” ego torment me, and treat me like crap. Quite a bit has changed in his programming since the days we got in that famous fight on Key fucking W. in his father’s Mercedes, but I wish I was more protected from “his” ego. If only just with drugs/painkillers.”
Moretr nods, and talks to ghostly shadows to his right.
“What pisses me off the most, is why would he remember JUST THAT FIGHT, when we fought throughout the entire East coast, beginning with Boca Raton, and Del Ray, not just on KeyW.!!!”
“I am tracing this, James. I do care. I will do my best to help you.”
“So, I dread the trip, and the machine AMPLIFIES THAT. This is where my fear of hurt is coming from. After Jaguar and Tigress’s story I no longer feel that I was given the hardest of fates (truly, there are plenty of others whose lot is incomparably harder than mine). But I am the one of the receiving end of H.M.’s ego-caused negative moods.”
“Tell me more, please.”
“He gets belligerent so quickly! Me, too, OK, but this thought does me no good - he is going to let “his” ego torment me during the trip.”
“How can we get through it, James?”
“We will! Time goes on, carries us with it, that’s how. But three days! God help me. When I dreamt of going on trips with the man I loved, in those dreams he was not a cruel, heartless psychopath who only gave me compassion when he wanted to have sex with me. Other cases? Do without, bitch. It hurts. His attitude hurts. And then he expects me to put out like a rubber doll, and forget how just two days ago, he deprived me of his compassion.”
“Would you like to have breakfast now?”
“I would, but I called you so I you could help me cleanse from the enormous anxiety and fear I am experiencing. The trip is in three days, and I know it is pointless to talk about it with him, to tell him how much anxiety I have. He is not going to listen, and then we will collapse into a fight, because I will get triggered… And talking ahead does no good. He can’t control “his” ego. He goes mad when it tells him to go mad…”
“I am working on it, James. But you need to get ready for school.”
“Yes, my Prince. But I have twenty minutes left. I must spill this, or I can’t even study. I am in so much internal pain right now!!!”
I see a transparent outline of an Arkabin approaching Moretr.
“Please get a hold of Commander Kumlatov. James is going to be late for school today.”
The Arkabin nods and leaves through the Spiral Staircase room.
James stretches on the bed, hating allowing the machine’s poison in, but he feels that he does not have a choice.
“Also, I know I will get nowhere with this, but I must tell you that “my” ego accuses you of intentionally holding back my medicine.”
“I am all ears, James.” Moretr nods encouragingly.
“You told me to empty out the “emergency” bags of blue ksill, when I need to. I am doing it. I must relay to you, how uncomfortable I am with the dwindling supplies, though. My worry gets amplified by the stupid, and then I get this unpleasant feedback from the Stupid. And I’m like: wait a minute, this is how I feel, yes! This is how the chain works…”
“Thank you, James. I can see every protocol the stupid is feeding you.”
“But why is this happening, my Prince? I thought you told me that there will be no shortage of medicine. I was never meant to get into the emergency pouch! Of the two of them, I have ALREADY gone through ONE, and by the time he looks there again, I will have to come up with a lame story that that “pouch was already opened” and almost empty.” He is going to get bent out of shape over this. And, if that was not enough, the second pouch will be empty very soon, too. Possibly even before this assignment is over. I would like to understand the reasons behind this hardship. The dry spell has been going on FOR WEEKS! There is no bloody way the town is that dry, even during the spring break. The ûåãçøâ ego is telling me to blame M, the ego thinks she is either sabotaging me, or I must admit that she is not trying hard enough. I thought it was never going to come to that. I know you have increased my wine intake to two glasses a day. Once I run out of ksill, I will ask for three glasses to manage pain, as a stop-gap measure until we get back to Genesis 17.”
“We are looking into it right now, James. Please, relax. Your field has darkened. Push the machine out. KNOW that we are here to help. Hold on. I am called to an urgent matter in Nasarat City. We will finish it when you are back from school. Please get up and get dressed. Commander Kumlatov is waiting for you.”
Moretr disappears, leaving me with James. But no longer alone. Sheba was always talking how sometimes she had to deal with delirious James “completely alone”.
Jim’s face is a mask of suffering. Oh, Gosh. Her we go.
“There is no bloody way his men can’t get more ksill!!” James screams hoarsely, his head rolling on the pillows. Moretr had to leave in such an inappropriate moment.
But, the civil war, we understand. Some relative of his must have been “turned off” by the Sheiredis.
I fear my mate is entering a psychotic episode.
“What is behind it? Why am I made to suffer without my medicine?” James gets up, and then slams his head against the pillow.
Richard was finally given a chair to sit on. This is where he sits, with his back to our bedroom closet, his chair positioned exactly at the line where the wall used to be. He sits there, facing the sliding back door, and Matushka’s activity, with the Spiral Staircase at his three o’clock. Richard is with his head down, so I do not see the expression on his face, as he is to my right.
Henry is standing behind the curtain, watching James most intently. He has been all along.
I stand by Jim’s bed with the bridgeplate hanging under my right hand, and my phone in the pocket of my dressing gown.
Yesterday I finally overcame every barrier in my mind, and showed James my feet. To my shock, he loved it. He pushed me to the bed, and squeezed, and hugged me, excited and high on emotion.
I hate my failing body, my hands, my feet - so old, so ugly.
But James sees something else in me. I mean, besides Samantha. He said he fell in love with me the day his Israeli boyfriend Banazir showed him my photograph, as he was preparing to leave James for me.
It does not get any weirder than that. From that day on James could not get ME out of his mind. So when Banazir finally left, James longed for both Banazir, AND ME.
He, then, buried his feelings for both of us “in the same grave”, as James described it, and tried to forget about it. Eighteen years later, here I am. James did not want to let me in first, but then he simply opened the gate, and we both got flooded by his feeling of love for me.
Celebrating the breaking of yet another barrier between us, James played with me, and then he sat still, listening to my soul. To my soul, and to the heartbeat in the cell of stone, where I’m locked up.
I told him, that I see how he must have been in love with me THEN. But it was almost twenty years ago, and I am old now. I have bags of old pain, bags under my eyes, and even my clothes are baggy nowadays…
“Twenty years, two hundred tears,
You are still the same, and I love to say your name!” James responded, and kissed my dried-up old man lips with such deep feeling, as if he was kissing the most handsome man in the world…
Jim moves a bit on the bed, and his face is now distorted in anger, and suspicion.
“What do you say, Wallace? “My” ego says Moretr’s men are told to lay quiet, and not bring me any medicine, see what I do when I run out. Right? Do you agree with “my” ego, Wallace?”
To disagree with “his” ego is to piss him off now. To agree with “his” ego is to hurt Prince Moretr, AND everyone else.
I count to three. For there is a third jeopardy. To say the wrong thing is to push James over the edge, and down he goes. He will scream, hit his head against the wall, yell profanities, conjure a gun and shoot into the walls, regardless of who is around… He will also shoot into Isaak Milgram’s window just to taunt him. Hey, I have a gun and you don’t!
I must say the right thing.
But, alas. I do not have a choice. I only have one line, and it was pre-determined. It was written before I set a single step of my ugly old man feet onto this stage.
“Wallace!” James turns to me, his eyes bloodshot, an insane smile stretching his lips. “What do you say?!”
Matushka puts down her gardening equipment, and parts her lips to remind me my line.
Henry, who stood behind the curtain in his Chambers, pushes his face in the opening of the curtains and mouths my line.
But I do not want to say this line. I want this to move on, continue without interruptions. I want James to undress me, push me on the bed again, and make love to me.
“James, you are late for school.”
Excerpts from Jim’s personal channel (his private notes):
“How not to get into arguments with your friends, and why do they argue with you? (How frustrating! Do you remember the last time you argued with your close friend?)”
“Who are you? You are the Jewel that fell out of the Crown of God. Who am I? The same. I long to go back. Do you?”
“We used to be ONE. Now, shattered, we are like ants in the dark, each with a flashlight, “protected” by the ego from re-joining. We can only see what the small flashlight of our view can deliver into our brains. Each sees their own picture OF THE SAME THING, but the ego misinterprets it for us, to prevent us from putting the puzzle back together.
Why? Because it was programmed to know - GOD AND YOU are TOGETHER on that picture. And the ego was tasked to keep you away from God. For this is what you wanted. Time to wake up to the Face of the Loving Father.
“Where are we? We are exactly where we used to be - in God. But after eating the “poisonous apple” that caused the Big Bang… Here we are, having lost our memory about who we REALLY are. Also, WHERE WE STILL ARE...
Each of the shards now trying to find their own, guided by the distorted programming of the ego (the “flashlight” of our limited scope of view).
All for naught. Why? What you find for yourself will crumble, for it is not real. It is a part of this illusion.
The only thing that will not crumble is God, who gives the Eternal Love. You’ve heard that before, but, possibly, you have no idea how to achieve either. I know how to achieve both. But I will not tell you. For I am the Jewel that came back into the Crown. Now I am bound by the Crown’s Law. I only speak when it is safe. When it will not lead to conflict. If my words may cause conflict, I am silent.”
“Note: With Ariel Matthew: make sure that the “wood” of new info is constantly thrown into the fire of the conversation. He freaks out every time he hears me silent on the other side. With Merion, however, you MUST give that pause, to let him process what you’ve already said. A completely opposite approach to the conversation. Talking to Merion almost every day, you get used to one style, and then Ariel, done talking, yells at you: “JAMES! CAN YOU HEAR ME? WHY ARE YOU SO QUIET THERE??!!” And I’d be like - dude, it hasn’t even been one second since you stopped talking. But he is jittery. He is afraid of silence.”
“I see you accessing Kellspell’s channel, Wallace.” Dr. Michael gets off the Spiral Staircase with gardening gloves for Matushka.
“I am his Personal Arkchil Operator. I have a right.” I respond, sitting in bed with the bridge plate hanging to my left, and my phone to my right.
Here in Jim’s bed, on his spot, it is the most energy-saturated place, and my bridgeplate is the brightest.
“True that.” Dr. Michael slides the backdoor open and places the gloves on the concrete pad. Then he comes back into the bedroom. “I was just making an observation. I saw your head going up and down. Up high, then down low, your eyes closed, biting your lips with a pained expression. As in: I wish I knew all this before. I would not have been as hurt.”
“You don’t know it yet, neither would you care, but I just lost everything.”
“Whatever you lost, was never yours. Whatever God gave you is still with you. If you are in pain, you may be looking at the situation with the ego-prism.”
“Feel the time slowing down. This is what will fix everything, James. Watch: all the things you thought were irreparable, can be fixed by slowing down the time, as you are emerging vertically from your most painful parallel-moving dream.”
Prince Moretr to James during the psychiatric sessions
“Your head is completely empty due to the effects of poison you took to wake up here, not because you have “no previous history”. You have tons of “previous history” while in the Arms of God. Then you took poison and crashed into a dream sequence. Therefore sped-up perception of time.”
James, to me, as to “why people do not remember anything that happened to them before they were born here”. I, in fact, do remember quite clearly. But he was just using me as general audience, bouncing his conclusions off me.
“Yeah, so, besides that, My Prince, I am continuing to face my addiction dragons/issues. Recently we here on the set had an unpleasant incident involving me propositioning to a patient for sex.”
“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.” Moretr says soothingly.
“Yeah, well, in a way. I caught myself in my shameful predating behaviour again. While I promised to Dr. Michael, that he and his wife were my last victims… Then I broke into Mr. August’s house, I did. I thought I was done, and here shows up this incredibly handsome gentleman, and intro’s himself as Albert, Tigress’s father. Henry here should know better, but he collapses in the throes of “worshipping his king”. Wallace to my left is with his head buried in his phone watching his stalking footages, Mr. Rockford to my right, is chewing on my underwear. I feel like dumb and dumber with these two, and not 36 hours AFTER the incident I realise ALL THREE were supposed know better.
“Better than what?” Moretr smiles at James as his bridgeplate lights up red and yellow.
“Better than hoping that he is our LONG-AWAITED Alpha!” James makes a large, all encompassing gesture with his hands.
“OK, please continue.”
“So, as I was drowning in the man’s incredibly lovely blue eyes, I mean, come on, they don’t make them this handsome anymore! As I’m at it, Wallace and Richard finally notice what is going on.” James makes a dramatic pause.
It starts to rain outside. Which is the first time I saw this happen ever since I arrived (5 months ago). But then it was December, when I arrived.
“To my utmost shock, they drop their porn and they are on their knees kissing the man’s shoes. I stand there and I’m like, God Almighty, what am I seeing? My mind, overloaded with a constant search for a right sexual partner for me and Henry, says: bitches, this is a rough top, and he will be mine. Am I right in my thinking, or what?”
Moretr is waiting for James to answer his question.
“You stand there, minding your own beeswax, comes a handsome dude, your mates fall to their knees and start rolling on the floor like cats in heat. Right? You do not waste your time, you do not let the opportunity slip away. You go for him. Omegas are everywhere, betas are to manage them. But Alphas? Alphas are their price in Rhodium. Grab them before other unions will.”
“Very well.” Moretr takes a look to the pouring rain outside, and here is a bottle half full of whiskey that breaks Isaak Migram’s window from the inside, and flies to the lawn surrounded by shards of broken glass.
“And I go for it. I say: “Sir, there’s got to be a reason as to why my homies are groveling at your feet. We are in a desperate search of an Alpha. Say, could you top three men a night?” Jim goes on, too deeply inside of himself to notice anything. I continue to watch Milgram’s window, half-fearing he will be flying out next.
“This is where… I kid you not!” James jumps up, and a pack of cigarettes falls to the floor out of his pocket. Wallace, Matushka and me wince. “Albert collapses into my arms, my Prince! Tigress runs up, helps me put him on the bed, and tells me her father has been through a lot, and needs my help.”
Matushka can’t take the suspense anymore, and she goes outside, as if to tend to her rain-soaked roses, but, in fact, she goes to watch out for Mr. Milgram, possibly, attempting suicide.
“I remember that we are still a field hospital, and the injured souls continue to arrive.” Jim plows on, looking down at his bare feet. Come to think of it, he’s got cute feet even in his male avatar. “This is where I experience an immense feeling of remorse, and i remind myself that people see me as a doctor, and they bring me their sick friends and relatives. And I can’t prey upon those sick relatives.” Jim finishes with a sigh.
“What can yo tell me about Albert’s state?” Moretr glances one more time at the window, and focuses all of his attention on James. If Milgram was planning to throw himself out of the window, and Moretr knew that, we’d never know, for a Grehedi needs no phone to call for a backup. He sends a mental order to his people.
“Albert is pretty shattered, my Prince. But he is marginally better than Kyle. And by “marginal”, I mean it. Kyle had not been up in two months, since Henry was exiled. But now our most beloved Henry is back. And Kyle is still down. Lady Anne continues to care for him. I am truly grateful for my “nurse”. I’d lose my mind caring for all of them alone.”
This is where I see Matushka run right back into the house, slamming the sliding door behind herself, and towards the Spiral Staircase.
Lady Anne is descending slowly down it, preceded by drops of blood that fly through the iron-wrought rails of the stairs. He is holding her left hand upwards, and her middle finger is a bloody mess.
Matushka comes to hold Anne’s shaking body. “What happened, talk to me, honey!!”
“I went to deliver pizza to Mr. Milgram. He heard me knock and he shot through the door. My hand…” Lady Anne does not finish, and goes into shock. Matushka eases her to the floor.
James jumps up to touch her to block her pain. He can only influence her brain if he is in immediate proximity. He is not allowed to use his abilities, or even talk about them, but for such emergency cases.
Wallace and I stay back, while Richard helps Matushka hold Lady’s Anne’s head, blood running in deep rivulets from her hand.
“Let me help her.” Moretr comes before James, who nods with deep satisfaction. The REAL doctor is on the premises.
5 o’clock tea. A table was brought, and placed by the window that faces to our backyard with Matushka’s roses.
“It’s not his fault…” James sighs, bowing his head at Tigress’s feet. She is sitting with her face to the rose garden, formerly our lawn, but Matushka has been taking more and more of the lawn, and converting it into rows of blood red roses.
“How so?” Tigress asks.
“Mr. Milgram and I go way back. The year is {censored} alaetar mlaste. One dark rainy night Milgram comes into my room in the Grey Building, and asks me: “So, how do people get hurt in this world?” I said “It depends on the proximity to God. The farther from God you are, the more you get hurt.” James nods yo himself, and drinks greedily from his cup. It is empty in one second.
“What did Mr. Milgram say?”
“I see” He said all gloomy, like that, and looking back now, I should have become alerted. “What if you get hurt in the safest of places, like a church? Directly under God’s Watchful Eye?” That’s what Milgram said back in the Grey Building.”
“Did you give him a satisfying answer?” Tigress motions for Lady Anne to pour her, and James, more tea.
“On the contrary, my Lady. I did not have an answer to that. And after awile of staring out my window, he left. He started drinking then. He never stopped. And he hurt many people. His wife, his kids… It’s all because I could not answer him at the time. That is why he is here. I paid for his ass to be here, and Lady Anne has achieved martyrdom so she could care for patients like… Like Isaak Milgram, bless his soul. Please go easy on him, my Lady… He is distraught over the innocents that got hurt in there.”
“I am going to ask him go trim hedges at least part of the day. He can’t sit there drinking ALL DAY anymore, James.” Tigress shakes her head slowly. “I also ordered to have YOUR gun taken away from him.”
“I did not give it to him, he stole it from me.”
“And you did nothing to retrieve it, even as you, yourself, was threatened with it.”
“Um… I brushed it off. I held people at gunpoint, too, I shot at people’s photographs, I shot myself… Jeez… So, Lady Anne got her middle finger shot off… H.M. once dropped the fountain on my middle finger, and then, not two weeks later, the dumbasses/Level 1 dropped the golf cart on the same hand. Wah!” James makes a sudden exploding motion with his hands. “My finger is smashed all the way to the bone! Again! Meat all exposed, blood everywhere…”
“Did you go to the emergency room?”
“Nah, I wrapped it in a plantain leaf, smoked a lot of blue ksill and fucked Krotkie. Having sex with a sweet omega usually cures my blues.”
Not a single muscle twitches on Tigress’s face as Jim unloads expletives and lewd details.
“All this will stop, Mr. Kellspell.”
“Totally, my Lady. That is the whole idea. We were in a dire need of a rough top.”
“Thatched roof is a rough top, Mr. Kellspell. Please speak proper English.”
I could have said “Ha, what did I tell you?” But I’m an omega, and I can’t question James, my beta. To question your superior is to lose your peace. And I have lost quite a bit already.
“Got it, my Lady.”
“You were asked to teach Mr. Kellspell proper English, Mr. Smith. You were given eight weeks. Was there not enough time?”
I get startled and lose my marbles. What do I say?
“The truth, Mr. Smith.”
Damn, she is already plugged to our personal channel. She can hear my every thought.
“Despite my best efforts, Mr. Kellspell laughed in my face.” It pains me to say all this, to expose James like that. But I WAS ASKED BY TIGRESS to tell the truth!
“I did! It was because Wallace here could not translate anything! I asked him how to say “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?” In proper British, he did not know, I asked him how to translate “the shit has hit the fan”, and he could not!”
Tigress frowns, as Jaguar leans over and whispers in her ear.
“We will deal with this later.” Tigress concludes. “Mr. Kellspell, why didn’t you give a satisfactory answer to Mr. Milgram?”
“Because it was a stupid question, my Lady!” James makes big eyes and a goofy face. “At least then. I did not give a damn about that, then. I was worried about being poor and abandoned by the world.'
“Also, I myself, was assaulted at least twice before the age of 12, in my female avatar, by strangers. I came to my mother with that, she asked me if I was RAPED, I said - no, and she told me to take a shower and forget about it. All those assaulted were BOYS, my Lady! What was the big friggin’ deal? They were not going to get pregnant!”
Tigress is silent, but, I dread, Mr. Milgram in his apartment is not. A new glass was installed after he threw a bottle out of his window, but it never stopped Mr. Milgram before. As James speaks, I half-expect Mr. Milgram to throw himself out, and fall on our lawn just to prove the point.
“That was your reason for not searching for the answer?”
“Well…” James takes a slow breath. “I had more pressing issues to resolve then. One being: how do I become SOMEONE to be noticed and recon with. When Mr. Milgram came to me, I was very young, I had no skills, no job, no one respected me, and my more successful relatives never missed a chance to shut me out, ignore me, laugh at me, and stomp me out of existence. Mr. Milgram’s problem with traumatised boys looked ridiculous to me. If only because I myself was one of those assaulted kids, and I shook it off. I never made a big deal out of it.”
Tigress thinks, and Jaguar leans over to her, whispering again.
“Allright, what do you think would have been a safe place for those boys, if not in church. Maybe, their home?”
“Yeah, about that. This one time I was assaulted, I was home, back in my village. A stranger came in to ask for a drink of water (that was a normal thing, plenty worked there on the state fields). I invited him into the kitchen, both of my grandparents were in the garden. The dude was big, and I was 11. He grabbed me and pushed me against the table, and started molesting me. I screamed, and resisted, and I knew it was in vain, for I knew my grandparents could not har me.”
Dead silence takes place, as Jim continues matter-of-factly.
“So, as the fucker is trying to take my clothes off, I think to myself: well, but HE does not know that my grandparents can’t hear me. So, if I screamed LOUDER… And I did. And that, EVENTUALLY, scared him away. That was fucked. For a long time I could feel his heavy, sweaty hands all over my body. I’d wake up at night, terrified of what happened. Maybe, fearing that he might come back.”
“Did you tell you grandparents?”
“I did, and my grandfather knew every single dog in both villages, that’s why NO ONE from there would dare to touch me, but that guy was from elsewhere. He was a passer-by. He was not living in the villages, and my grandfather never had a chance to confront him. Then, not even a year after that, I was assaulted AGAIN, this time in Moscow, in the elevator leading to my apartment. This young man jumped in together with me, and assaulted me again, this time he did so much more. I screamed again, begged him as he was pulling down my panties… I screamed, begged, and he stooped the elevator and let me go. I came home, my Mom said - was there a penetration, and I said - no. She said - take a shower and forget about it. There was no point reporting this to police. They were not going to do anything about it.”
“How did you come with that?”
“I didn’t. I forgot all about it. You know why? Because I had bigger fish to fry. My cousin seemed to have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and her family never hesitated to take a shit on my head for being born to a “commoner”. They treated me like crap for decades, they buried me under their scorn, they left me for dead. Instead of dwelling on a few perverts in my life, I spent every available minute studying English, so I could go to America, and show this bitch that I was worth my weight in gold.”
A long pause takes place. I watch Matushka and Richard, and they sit at the table with their heads down.
Henry sits in the middle of the rug with his eyes closed, and acts like he can’t hear anything that is going on.
“Then what happened?” Tigress asks.
“Then, after howling for more in my life than an insane mother, gruelling poverty and snotty relatives, I got picked up by a thatched roof.”
Tigress frowns.
“Ahem, a rough top, my Lady.” James smiles. “I understand I must learn proper English.”
“Thank you for making an effort.”
“Of course… and he raped me so many times, for so long, in so many incredible ways, that he made those perverts look like inept school children. And, sometimes, he made me wish I was killed by those perverts, for my life went from bad to worse.”
“What about now?”
“Still at it, my Lady. But 5 years ago I got radicalized by one of your agents, Wolf “Krotkie” Hafnian. Apparently, he was sent by another one of your faithful people, Lord Henry Carlton. Thanks to the relentless efforts of these gentlemen, my life is now full of purpose. I also believe Mr. Hugh Michael to be your agent, too. I think he was used as a decoy to take me off the streets. Then I was used as a decoy to take Mr. Rockford off the streets.”
Tigress gives James a reserved smile.
“Anyway, the short conclusion of my protracted speech: I do not have the answer for Mr. Milgram. I guess, he ordered a big thick cake that is still baking in God’s Kitchen, how’s that? Every hungry customer in this restaurant must remember, that I AM ONLY A WAITER! I cook nothing myself. My job is to bring you what God gives me.”
“And thank you for that, Mr. Kellspell.”
“The pleasure is all mine, my Lady. For five years now, I have been SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY. I was properly rewarded for my job. All of the BS in my life is FINALLY PAYING OFF! At the age when most people fold, lose their MoJo and are seen drinking at the corner of “My Memory Lane” and “WhereDidMyLifeGo?”, I am high on hope, inhaling the fragrance of the lovely, unique flowers, and looking forward to the fruit of the trees that took 50 years to grow. Can you imagine waiting for your dream to come true for fifty years, my Lady?”
“I can imagine waiting a lot longer than that, Mr. Kellspell.”
“Is there a problem, Mr. Kellspell?” I say, prompted by Tigress.
“My faithful Teacher and Interpreter! I need your services.” James grabs my hand in an exaggeratedly desperate motion. “I would like to say this to our Lady: “You da man”. Please, translate that to Proper English.”
A curve ball from James. This is what service to him is all about. You have to be ready to twist into a pretzel to please him. Always.
That is why everyone is looking at me.
“You da man” (italics). Into proper English. Let’s do it.
“Mr. Kellspell would like to express his genuine appreciation for your incredible patience and resilience in the face of insurmountable odds.”
The audience applauds. Dr. Michael is seen coming down the spiral Staircase, winking at Matushka, and bowing slightly to Lady Anne, who is coming to the table with a teapot. She has resumed her duties of caring for everyone not a day after she was shot by one of Jim’s patients.
“Would you like some fruit?” Lady Anne approaches Tigress with a sweet smile and a bow.
CHAPTER 130 (from 119)
“Whatever intel you get, before you act on it, or talk about it, or even think about it - you take it directly to your Control Panel with God. Here are three green bridgeplates we linked for you, James. “Loyalty-Honor-Service, on the basis of Magnificat&Covenant”. It is a copy of the Control Panel you smashed into pieces after you took poison, and before you fell asleep under the influence of it.
You present Him with this intel, and YOU ASK FOR HIS ADVICE.
The machine will rush you, and force you, and compel you to skip this step. See what it does? It was programmed to urge you to skip this step because “there is no time to consult God, you need to ACT (speak, think) NOW”. It is a lie, my boy. You act, speak, or even think without God, you will be in pain. And when you come to the machine with this pain, it will tell you to blame God.
So, quit running in this dumb circle. Get up and surrender to God. That is, if you have suffered enough in the circle, where the machine first tells you not to include God into your decision-making process, which guarantees pain, and, predictably, you are in pain as a consequence of that choice.
Where is the Stupid device that gave you such advice? Why, the machine is silent, nowhere to be found, as it was programmed not only to skip God, but Compassion and Love, too.
It includes your knee-jerk reaction of answering not just without thinking, but even before the person finished talking. What is your rush? You can’t wait to show God what a mindless puppet of “your” ego you are? Is that what I am supposed to present to my family? The man who is supposed to stop our civil war acts like a child, interrupts you in the middle of a sentence! What are you supposed to do instead?”
“Wait until the person is done talking, and take three breaths while contacting God to ask for His Guidance on the best answer that hurts no one.”
“You are going to write that down a thousand times, for the love of God, James, my motherland is knee-deep in blood, and your immaturity levels hit a new low since I suspended you!”
Commander Uri Kumlatov to James Kellspell during one of his lectures. This is a hell of a long quote, but I had to copy it here. Jim is the one who impatiently wants to move faster. He wants to be the saviour, he wants to make a difference. As of now, he lacks the focus, the conviction, and, possibly, the proper psychotic drugs.
Jim can read you a long protracted lecture on where plastic comes from, but he would also break into a man’s house to watch him fuck his boyfriend.
Please read on.
Henry and James are at it again. Henry has been disturbed lately. But, it is the rising moon.
“And if you can’t see that, then you haven’t been paying attention, James!”
“All I see is that you are a large man, Henry!” James is not serious, and he really HAVEN’T been paying attention to Henry’s tormented monologue.
Ahem, I brought up the right quote, then.
“I have not heard of the establishment turn down a man for being large. But I have heard of the establishment turn down a man for being gay! The very fact that I lust after you, James, makes me ineligible for service! What does that tell about me? A man who failed to serve his country?”
“You think you are the only one nursing a dilemma, Henry? How about I always pledged to serve the poor, and here I am, serving creme-de-la-creme of British aristocracy! Your relatives, basically. What does that make ME? The man who broke all his vows?”
Comes Mr. Rockford as Regent Kellspell and Lord Carlton are having an ever heating up domestic.
Rockford hands a message from His Highness to Regent James Kellspell. It is a piece of paper.
I know it is from His Highness, because I saw him give the paper to Rockford in the entrance leading to our Spiral Staircase Room.
Funny how various generations of humans manage the communication issue here on the alien spaceship.
James Kellspell, 47, (not the youngest, but the most unhinged of us all) immediately accepted the Andromedan brain-wave based technology (another way of saying “psychic-based technology”), and moved his phone into a bridge plate, discovering and creating new apps.
Sheba, 51, missed her phone and wished it worked here (her wish was granted AFTER she left the set)
Yours truly, age 61, is lost on both ends.
His resourceful Highness, 99, did not lose a beat, and asked Mr. Rubinstein for a notepad and a pen.
James sniffs, then unfolds the thick paper. On it:
“Help us save the Empire, and we will help you save the poor. Deal? Nod and wink your right eye if “yes”.”
Kellspell glances towards the Spiral Staircase, and tries to see Jaguar there. Failing to do so, he, then, nods and winks with his right eye.
“I will never resolve my dilemma, James!” Henry moans under his breath sitting on the bed, and throwing his head down on Krotkie’s blanket.
“I just resolved mine.” James chuckles, then nods, and winks his right eye in the same manner, now to Henry.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Henry stares at James like the latter was insane. Which is not a far drop from the real state of things :).
“Jaguar, my good man, just gave me all the answers. As for your dilemma, Henry, this is what His Highness has to say about it:
“Just be a good man and do your job.”
“Let me see that…” Henry takes the note from Jim’s hands.
“Let me translate this for you, my dearest mate: “Everyone gets fucked in the ass in this world, gay or not”. That’s what it means.” James chuckles and pulls the paper now out of Henry’s fingers.
“Here is another one, my Prince. The machine SUDDENLY says: “SOMETHING IS LOST!!! You must GRIEVE for that!”
Moretr nods, monitoring every vibe of Jim’s essence.
“And, like an idiot, you SUDDENLY have to interrupt the good times you are having, and, as an obedient salve of the ego, you scramble for things that you lost to mourn! After having taken such a nose dive from the skies of, basically, happiness, you fall hard and want to know what shot you out of the sky. You turn to “the only thing that is your HELPER”, and that thing points at God! Oh, it’s HIM who took whatever you are mourning! And I have been believing this garbage for 13 bln years!”
“So, we can say that the machine always tries to “rip the happiness out of your hands”, even as you try to obtain it in every way possible.”
“Yes!” James closes his eyes and bows his head. “This is where you simply wake up to the Presence of Father. And He tells you that the Stupid device is preprogrammed to keep you miserable, so you’d have a reason to blame God.”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
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THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
(Under Carlton-Kellspell River Sigil)
CHAPTER 129 (from 119)
Three Breaths Have All The Answers
“Three breaths, James, take three breaths before you give ANY reaction to what you hear. The machine COMPELS YOU to respond RIGHT AWAY, because it is the BEST FOR THE MACHINE, and the worst for you. Your FAST response is the least balanced, therefore, more poison-laced. And that causes more grief in the hearts of others. This is what the machine is programmed to do - to cause imbalance, therefore pain. Don’t be it’s mindless puppet. Have respect for WHO YOU ARE.”
“Three breaths…” James inhales, re-programming himself. Making himself UNAVAILABLE for the machine to control.
“But you do not spend these three breaths searching the machine’s advice for the worst way to hurt your loved one! You spend these three breaths SETTING YOUR BEHAVIOUR TO THE MOST BALANCED. What do you do when you see Henry?”
“Happy to see him, therefore I want to make him happy by serving him.” Jim beamed.
“Copy that to H.M., and you are good.” Moretr nods. “Consider that bug fixed. What did Kumlatov tell you?”
“He just gave me zirconium dioxide to work with. Did not say a word. Possibly still upset.”
“Is it because of the tickets to Noah’s Ark Henry was selling for $3 000 000?”
“Yeah…” James chuckles. “But, I think, it is also because of his family, and the civil war.”
“Fine, then, let’s work on what a Regent is. You are not a wedding General, James. People depend on you.”
“People are already hanging on me, and we haven’t even started, Mr. Smith and Mr. Rockford.”
I sit very close to James, and admire a picture of his feet I just took with my phone. Her feet are so lovely.
Richard stands by the bed with his head down, silent and burly, like a disturbed ghost. He only looks aloof. All of his attention is on James. Jess. His Jess. The woman he assaulted, therefore was given to. The woman he loves, and is very hot for.
“See? People depend on you, and you depend on how internally balanced you are.”
“But my Prince, most of the time I do not know what to do either! Wallace, what the fuck is this?!”
Oh, he saw what I was doing in my phone!
“Did you take a picture of MY FEMALE AVATAR’s feet? A foot fetish, Wallace? Gimme that!” He grabs my phone from my hands. “Quentin Tarantino you are not!”
Oh, my God. I think I can’t be any more ashamed.
But, to my utter shock, James quickly loses interest in the “stalker’s portfolio” on my phone. He skips through pictures of her underwear that I took and slept with, and the pictures of her in the shower, and of every lovely body part I could catch.
He throws the phone back to me, while focusing his attention on Moretr.
“Problem, James?” Moretr asks, monitoring his bridgeplate, on which he sees Jim’s every emotional color.
“Mates!” Kellspell scratches me under my chin. “Wallace is stalking my female avatar, and Richard jerks off on my pillow!”
“Richard jerks off into your shoes. He has a foot fetish, too.” Moretr nods. “Let’s get back to work. Three breaths will give you answers.
First Breath: Look at Me (You align yourself with me, but you understand that I am only channeling Melekh Shel Zahav)
Second Breath: Straighten up your back. You control the situation.
Third Breath: Diffuse the situation by a smile of a teacher for his students.
“The ego’s first task is to break you up with God, for He is the only one who gives you the correct directions on what to do next.
Once you have lost the connection with the Only One who can help, this is where the dumb machine starts giving you OTHER possible solutions.
The ego’s solutions are:
Annoyance,
Anger,
Desperation,
Frustration,
Panic.
The ego, then, will persuade the befuddled, lost YOU that IT IS THE ONLY WAY, CONSIDERING THAT YOU WERE ABANDONED BY GOD (!).
That hurts you even more, and you grab the cup with poison of anger, and you drink it.
IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.
Father’s way:
Be present in the situation with dignity.
Let YOURSELF and everyone else know that you are in control of your emotions by being in control of the situation. Simply: You are with God.
In the process of all that, even detached from the machine, you will still feel the “jerks” from it, demanding you jump into desperation (gulp the poison from the cup), when there is ABSOLUTELY NO REASON OR NEED for it.
Watch out for being controlled by the machine. Remember that you set it up to hurt yourself. Remember that, and do not let it hurt YOU, the Child Of God.
“Did you have a HARD day, Henry?” James sits behind his First Spouse and nibbles on his neck as Henry is on his phone AND his bridgeplate at the same time.
When Henry needs James to come to him, he becomes sullen and unresponsive. It is a sign for Jim to step up his Hourly Affirmations Of Loyalty.
“Henry, I will do whatever you want me to do.” James inhales Henry’s smell and sits behind with a blissful face of a cat who just ate a whole plate of sour cream.
Henry continues to work his phone, then link some files to his bridgeplate. I can see what he is doing, the dark-green cloud going there and back between his phone and the bridgeplate.
Henry stops for a second, and looks straight ahead of himself, his gaze cold and focused.
“I will do what pleases His Highness.” James continues to look for the right key to open up his gloomy mate, bowing low. As he sits BEHIND Henry, he bows to the right, and rubs his left ear against Henry’s long, shapely right arm.
Henry narrows his eyes. As much as I know him, it is a sign of satisfaction.
“This homie be serving The Empire, big time. Yes? Am I close? Give me a hint, Henry, and I will nibble on your ear.”
Henry lowers his head and looks sideways to the right.
“We are drowning in shame, James. First, we must redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Empire before we dare to offer ourselves to it.”
Here goes one of Jim’s famous punchlines.
“I can swim in shame all day, Henry. Get on my back.”
I close my eyes and try to internalize the joke right away, bypassing those centers in my brain responsible for laughing. You can say, I attempt to swallow it without chewing first.
Matushka, who started a rose garden right outside the back door, just off the concrete pad, is heard coughing. She figured out her own ways of dealing with our Prophet comedian. Or, Comedian Prophet?
HOW TO BREAK AWAY
FROM THE MACHINE FOREVER
(Pulling out the last cords,
cutting the remaining connections)
“I can FINALLY see the STRINGS that the dumb machine is using to MAKE ME INTO A TOOL OF PAIN! And I see that some ball, or a message COMES TO IT from left… It receives the message, and THIS IS WHEN IT VOICES the message. It reads those messages in a really nasty voice.”
“Tell me more.” Moretr prompts.
“I can hear the dumb machine say: “GO DOWN! FIND A REASON TO BE DEPRESSED! And, like an idiot, YOU START
SEARCHING FOR A REASON TO GET DEPRESSED,
AND, EVEN IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE DEPRESSED -
THE MACHINE HAS ORDERED YOU TO BE DEPRESSED!
SO YOU BETTER DO IT!
AND YOU drink the jug of bitter poison
EVEN IF ALL THAT AILS YOU IS GLOOMY WEATHER!
AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW EVER - WHO GIVES YOU THESE DUMB ORDERS,
AND WHY SHOULD YOU OBEY AND ORDER TO BE DEPRESSED, WHEN YOU DO NOT WANT TO, AND HAVE NO REASON!
“Got it, James. Vividly. Great job. What do you want for a reward?”
“Henry. My Prince, I want Henry. And, oh
“Please, continue.”
“OK! I am so happy to open up the torture chamber, where I was so UNHAPPY wunder the control of the DUMB microchip! Here is more for you. Please, relieve me of THIS ABOMINATION! it also says: “GET MAD!” It’s like I put these settings into the machine, and IT REMINDS ME to shoot up POISONS, so that I experience pain as I sleep, unable to hear Your soothing Voice. I am pissed at the dumb machine.”
“Then you are following its orders.”
“Oh, right!”
“Focus, James… Where are the messages coming from? Once you tell us the position of the part that feeds the machine the messages, we will be able to find it in our programming, too. We will then access it and scrap it. We will put a new control centre for you.”
“I’m working on it, my Prince. Sending the sensing beam in there. Seeing it. While I am working, my Prince, can you help me with a problem.”
It’s either Henry, or blue ksill, I say to myself, as I watch the Arkchils drop the collected intel onto my bridgeplate at the rate of 80 times a minute. To them it is slow. But for me - it is fine. All they need to do is deliver faster than the ego-feed. Ego feed into your brain is about 40 times a minute.
40 times a minute is the negative input, the poison you have to deal with EVERY DAY (your ego’s comments, judgments, orders, and roasting you on the flames of fear, when it is not PROMPTED to force you to drink a jug of worry).
“Of course, my love.” Prince Moretr stands directly over Jim’s body on the bed. As in, he is transpiring through the wall and the bed. He is in another dimension (Level), being here “holographically”. It is the best I can explain for now. Soon, I will be able to explain it better. James is doing a scientific paper on Universal Level Superimposition.
I cannot always see Jim’s mind. Or, rather, the labyrinth of his mind is too vast for me to see it all at once. So, what is it that ails him? Henry, or blue ksill?
“I will be out of blue ksill before this assignment runs out.” James says slowly, with his lips. He is out of his body, but it bothers him so much that he squeezed back for a moment to use his lips…
“We are working on it, James. I assure you that you will not run out.”
“Thank you, my Prince. OK, let’s continue running diagnostics on my ego-befuddled brain. OK, so after it orders you to drink poison, gives you the wrong advice, and then scares the crap out of you based on bogus reasons, you start screaming in pain, and THE STUPID HAS THE BALLS TO POINT AT GOD, and say - IT IS HIS FAULT THAT YOU ARE HURTING!”
James grinds his teeth, and turns to the right, where, on Level 3, the ego microchip, pulled out of his body, sits frozen in solid ice. Ice helps slow down its harmful activity, and prevents it from sending stupid messages into Jim’s mind.
“And then it always puts you in harm’s way!!!”
“By getting mad at it, you dance to its tune. It does not care who you yell at, as long as you charge it with anger, generated by your negative emotions. See where they are coming from. It is a trap.”
“Oh..” James nods, now sitting up. “Yeah.”
“Give me an overview of our today’s session, James.”
“This is how I see it, basically: You are in a tough position, and in pain . Both Father and the ego advise you what to do. You will be in even more pain if you listen to the advice of the ego.
“You forgot the jug of frustration. Every time it is not going “right”, and “right away”, the ego gives you a large glass of FRUSTRATION. You drink it without thinking, and the situation goes from bad to worse. YOU MAKE IT WORSE BY ACTING IN AN INSANE WAY, suggested by the ego, and exacerbated by the painful solution of frustration and desperation. What are OTHER drinks you can use to strengthen your mind and soul, instead of sinking your mind and soul?”
“Patience!” James lights up.”
“Very well.”
“What do you do when you see H.M. frustrated?”
“I do not become frustrated with him for sure. Or MAD at HIM, for suer. These are all the WRONG answers from the machine. Right. When the little girl comes crying to you, you do not start crying with her!” When H.M. gets frustrated…. I do not take him seriously, therefore, confusing the programming of the machine. Oh, my little one is crying! But he is silly, he does not know yet that everything is fine!”
“You got it, James. You can have Henry now.”
And Henry… He sits on his bed in his Royal Chamber, straight and stiff like an old tree, its branches dried, its trunk just about stripped of bark, with just a tiny bit if leaves left on twigs.
He sits at attention, waiting for James to be done with his “cleansing session”. He knows that the first thing James does after he comes from school, interviews, lectures, assignments, even before he thinks of food and rest - he seeks Henry.
“Last thing, James.” Prince Moretr has now moved away from the bed, and he stands on the background of the curtains to Henry’s Chamber. “What do we do when your little bear comes roaring?”
“We calm down the cutie. I am in full control, because I AM THE MOTHER. He is my cub. He is sweet, but knows very little about the world. I must be nice and tender with him, calm him down and make him happy on his level, and be patient to see him grow up spiritually into the Bear of Spirit that he was destined to be.”
“Excellent. Here, give this to Henry.”
A silver arrow shoots from Moretr into Jim’s bridgeplate, and Jim smiles sweetly. “Thank you, my Prince. Henry will love it.”
James was tasked with conducting a communication session between Jaguar and Tigress. But as he was relaying the conversation, he became in too much pain, and slurped some NES. Namely -sp (self-pity). Why? I can tell you why.
“I got it!” James beams, raising his eyes from three green and white bridgeplates bonded together by their leaves, as each of their leaves touches with the other to form a fourth. “I KNOW why it is so hard to carry on every new moon. I AM DRAGGING “MY” EGO WITH ME!!! It keeps on begging me to carry “another one of our points of agenda”!!! And all of that is dirt. Nothing good in that agenda!”
Standing so close to James that my whole naked body touches his side, I get startled.
“Your hardon is so hot it literally burns my hip.” Jim notes, but makes no attempt to move away from me. Or, tell me to go away. Or, tell me to wrap my shameless overstimulated self into the dressing gown.
“This is what the STUPID says, and I quote: “I love you! I want the best for you!
You tasked me with helping you to deliver to God the list of your demands… Requests, ok! “Requests”!
I know you’ve already just about gave up on our agenda.
But please, take at least ONE demand with you…
Otherwise, as you told me, God will not give you ANYTHING!
I know you just about gave up on me, too, or our deal to let God know how unhappy you are, but just this one… Please…”
I lock up. For this is EXACTLY THE STORY I’m hearing IN MY MIND.
“Did you tell that to Prince Moretr?” I ask cautiously, sticking my face into the back of his neck, and inhaling his hybrid smell. He smells both like a man, and like a woman.
“Yeah, just now. I had to make THREE copies of my bridgeplate, link three of them, and then listen carefully to my soul, now my hearing ability amplified by three. The fourth formed bridge plate being the speaker. It’s the new moon, Wallace, and I must UNDERSTAND as to why my burden is so heavy, and how I can help Henry get me out. Yesterday Henry and I talked on Level 1 in real time (still via a bridgeplate, though), and he said “James, I will not let you go, but you must drop the extra weight.” So, I have been thinking, and looking, and I discovered that the STUPID is talking to my mind, and this is what it is saying, that fucking shitty misprogrammed thing. I get it now. NOW I KNOW WHY MY LIFE IS SO HARD. I carry “my” ego’s demands! Something that is “SUPPOSED” to be “holy” for me, but in fact, just the dumb burden that prevents me from doing what I really LOVE - serve! I simply refuse to be a burden for Henry. I want him to be happy, and not regret that he picked me up.”
I rub myself against his training pants (he still sometimes wears those left behind after Wolf Hafnian, who had a few simple items of human clothing).
“What a drastic difference from Sheba”. James notes, holding both of his hands just above the lovely shaped, smooth leaves of the bridgeplates. “Sheba tried to stay as far away from me as possible within the same room. And here is my new Operator, naked, with just the dressing gown on, so he could rub his hard dick against me all day, and cover himself should someone come in.”
“Please, send me away. I am a disgrace to the idea of a Personal Arkchil Operator.”
“Tell that to Richard.” James laughs quietly. “He was assigned to be my Operator, but suffered the same “hard” affliction, so much so, he was unable to follow anything but the scent of the woman. That’s why it was given to YOU. And you fell to the same thing. You both are old perverts.”
“I am unworthy of your Grace, James.” I insist, burning up, swallowing hard, remembering the last time I begged him to let me take him as a woman, and he let me. I did not last long… But what a heavenly gift.
“Grace? I am here for sexual assault.”
Jim’s punchlines!
I breathe down his neck, hating myself for being so old already, loving him for staying so young and slim.
“Then how do you make it better?”
“Stop listening to the STUPID, and stop taking “one, just one of the demands with you”. It does not even know WHAT IT IS ASKING ME TO DO! The last demand I am dragging is “I have nothing to look forward to”. An ego-formed BOULDER enough to squish you like a bug. I AM RELIEVING MYSELF FROM IT NOW! Stupid ego must understand: Father has already assigned my salary. It will be huge. More than you can imagine. More than I ever put into you to “demand from God”. But I must wait another half an hour.”
James makes a breaking, spreading motion with his hands, and I stagger back begrudgingly, only to re-attach myself to him immediately.
“I hear Father, but then I make a rookie mistake to let the Stupid, as my “advising friend”, MISINTERPRET every single thing Father says, and turn a gift into punishment!”
“Yes, James…” I say breathlessly, and I am so high on my feelings that I can barely hear what he is saying. Or, rather, unable to process it.
Instead of floating in my personal la-la land, I should be on the alert. I hear him talking faster, and getting more and more excited.
I suspect he took NES (sp)… When? Why?
“But if I take what looks like punishment, and let Father INTERPRET it correctly, that’s how you get through 20 years in prison and become the president. You think it was fun for Nelson Mandela? And apartheid prison was nothing like any other prison. I bet they never gave him wine, drugs and cigarettes, and a swimming pool to help him with his issues!!! Jesus, Wallace, how far have I fallen? Look at the luxury that surrounds me… It means nothing to the stupid ego! But how can I be worthy of my heroes? Mandela and Solzhenytsin survived prison, and I can’t “survive” living with a millionaire! Who else thinks I’m lucky and deserve an ass-whipping for my bullshit?”
I moan quietly by his side. “You deserve an ass-licking, and I am here to provide it, just in case you feel a need…”
“Wallace, you are totally very cute. I promise you, we will play “Dadya Vanya” after I receive this info from His Highness.”
Too deeply in my feelings, I can’t even answer, but wrap myself around HER… I am no longer myself. I got diluted in HER smell, her ESSENSE, her POWER.
“So, His Highness says the following: “She relied on me for advice. Now she’s got no one to give her that advice.” I must internalise this before I throw up.”
What?
“James, how can you say that about a sacred communication you were trusted with? Do you know how upset Henry will be if he finds out? Did you take the ego-poison?” I confront him, beating myself up for not waking up earlier.
It is, indeed, too late. The poison took a hold of him, and he gave the ego the control of his speech centres. He can no longer hear me. Or, rather, the ego tells him what is important and what is not. He only heard what the ego thinks is important to hear.
That’s how the Kellspell tower fell to the dark power. Today. Just today. Tomorrow God will fix everything.
“Tigress must be an omega, Wallace! I am a beta. I know betta! Just let me at ‘em. If I was the head of it all, like hell I’d ask for anyone’s advice!”
“James, you are being very disrespectful.”
To no avail.
“Husband?” Jim brings his hand down in a powerful motion, right through the bridge plate, that falls apart due to the impact, breaks down, like a reflection in the water, only to re-assemble itself, obedient to his intense, controlling gaze. “Fine, please take a back seat. Here is food and drugs for you, I don’t want you to suffer. And, um, we will have sex later. Whatever else you need - I will give you. Just stay out of my way.”
“James, His Highness is going to see this recording…”
“Who cares, Wallace? They never let me talk!”
All you do is talk. All the time.
“Let me RULE THIS PLACE!!! You want to give me your advice? I will listen politely, but I will do it MY WAY, bitch. Next time, keep your advice to yourself. I promise, I will never ask for it. Don’t stand between me and the opportunity to HAVE MY VOICE BE HEARD!!! Look forward to chicken for dinner. I will take care of the rest.”
James speaks faster and louder, until his low hoarse whisper fills the entire bedroom, and floats into the Spiral Staircase Hall.
“Apparently it was not like that between Jaguar and Tigress.” Having come out of the thick fog of deep pleasure, and right into the icy waters of drug use and politics, I manage to stay alive and useful.
At least to my opinion. James is very offensive when he is high on NES-drugs.
It takes a special person to deal with him.
Oh, my God! Attracting attention to myself. Have I sniffed the poison, too? This place is laced with ego-protocols. This place is Earth.
“No! It was not! Jaguar is telling me, that she’d come to him FOR ADVICE! Omegas! Fuck! They clog up the system. WE should be allowed to rule!”
Jim is so agitated that the Mood Rug changes its colors from yellowish-green (our today’s general temperature) to reddish, in the corner closest to our bedroom.
“I think you are missing the point.” I feel a little bit more confident that I can deal with the crisis. Henry will be watching this recording, and I can’t fail him. I can’t make him be embarrassed for me.
“I DO, Wallace!!! And apparently, she REALLY MISSES HIM. I’d be like - husband died, ok, fine. I’m sorry. Good riddance. We were forced to stay together, now your ass is free from me, as I am from you!!! But TO TIGRESS - it was not “good riddance”. To her, losing her husband is a true, deep grief.” Jim pulls a half-filled bottle of Canadian Whiskey from under the bed, unscrews the plastic cork, and starts drinking out of it.
“She loved him.” I suggest carefully. Is there a way to sweet-talk him until he downs the whole bottle of whiskey, and falls asleep?
“SHE LOVED HIM! What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Loving” means surrendering your freedom? Giving up on YOUR VOICE to ever be heard?! Is that what love is? I still am trying to wrap my head around it!!!” James sighs angrily, and continues to use his bridgeplate to wash out ALL of the harmful, heavy ego-protocols. As he is riding one.
He knows what causes him pain, and he does not want to be in pain. The ego is not “stronger” than him. He is just temporarily weaker than “his” ego.
“Love is surrender. You have surrendered to Henry during trials.” No matter what I say, in this state, he will contradict me. My task is to hold him from falling even deeper into disgrace.
“Yeah, that was fun. But on Level 1? I KNOW I was wrong creating the ego. I KNOW how much pain I caused Father. Let alone everyone else, which is Him, too. But deep down inside, for Jim Kellspell? Fuck it all. For 20 years I tried to stay free from my mother’s imbecilic advice. That bitch never stopped yapping what SHE THINKS I should do. Then 20 years with H.M., who never stopped yapping about what I SHOULD DO FOR HIM. And deep down inside, Wallace, even as I surrender every day, deep down inside I will still long for JKR’s fate. Miserable, as she is now, she DID GET TO EXPERIENCE A TREMENDOUS RUSH OF BOTH TIME AND MONEY THAT IS YOUR OWN, AND NEARLY LIMITLESS. What would you do with it? You can’t tell me, for even as you, for some time, were making a lot of money, you were always CHAINED to your FAMILY. So, I pity you, who had money, but still, could never afford freedom. Who held a gun to your head to start a family?!”
Wow. He hit Henry by dismissing him, he hit his mother by insulting her (don’t tell Kyle), and, obviously, all that was just a developing momentum towards hitting H.M. Plus, he dragged in JKR.
As for me and my family? I’m going to skip the description of what he just did to me. He pities me, because I could never spend my money the way Jim thinks I should have.
When Henry called me “a sucker for punishment”, he was so right. And I brushed it off. Henry is very attentive to what he sees. All good.
But now, now I can feel pain pumping through my veins.
I am an idiot for spending money on my children.
“Who held a gun to your head to start a family, Wallace?” James growls through his teeth.
“No one.” I respond honestly.
“Why the fuck did you do it then? Social mores? Your parents forced you? What was your problem? Didn’t you know they were going to chain you to them stupid kids you will never be rewarded, or even remembered for?!!” James takes another gulp from the whiskey bottle, bringing it to his face so hard that he hits his teeth.
I hold myself back from taking away his bottle. I need him to finish drinking it, so he falls asleep sooner.
And let’s tread carefully on this mine field he is pushing me into. I can’t contribute to his psychosis by making incendiary comments.
“I am saddened that you’d think about my family as “chains”…” I respond, sinking deeper and deeper in the bliss of his closeness, his mannerisms, his verbal and physical habits, as James gets even more insulting.
“You are an omega. Omegas are incapable of comprehending FREEDOM. But I will never have it. I must bury the desire to have it. Give it to Father. For I will not drag this crap anymore. It is heavy, to want the forbidden thing. Money and time together. That’s forbidden. This is what unhinges you completely. Ask Mr. Milgram.”
Or ask Henry. How he feels about the transmission of Jaguar to Tigress that James has completely dropped due to emotional turmoil it brought him.
“How much of each would you need to feel the FREEDOM?” I say, burning through most exhilarating, deep emotional torment he gives me.
James is always very emotional. So much for being Russian/Mongolian. Not a drop of Italian blood…
“I don’t know… One year and a million dollars, or something. I JUST WANT TO KNOW HOW IT FEELS to make YOUR OWN DECISIONS, WITHOUT THE MAN ALWAYS BREATHING DOWN ON YOU.”
I step away, duly ashamed.
Besides, James is too high on the ego-poison to reason with right now. We both are high. I want him so much. I need him. And I can’t believe why. Because he ravages me, because he is so unhinged.
“I did not mean YOU. I mean an Alpha. SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING UNDER H.M.’s COMPLETE CONTROL…” James growls under his breath, rubs his teeth, and drinks more. “There goes my transmission from His Highness. Jeez. I am out of line and out of bounds.”
James sighs.
“Maybe get better now, James? Quit saying things you will regret later?”
“Yes, Wallace! I KNOW I MUST do that. One job I was given, one job! Help these people reconnect beyond “death”! BUT… I can’t handle what I am hearing!!!”
Here he is sliding down again.
“She is desperate, because she LOST HIM. Her man finally croaked! SHE should have experienced MUCH RELIEF. But SHE is DEVASTATED. And until I come to terms with that, I must be still and sedated. SHE NEEDS HELP, and I’m being an ass here. Sedated. I must be still and sedated.”
Does it mean I can stay by his side all day and rub myself against his smooth, athletic hips, drowning in shame AND pleasure?
‘Arrgh, Wallace! I can hear your every thought! I must give up everything I ever believed HAPPINESS IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE! If I take the ego-route, I will be in a lot of pain. The STUPID never mentions pain. Or, it says - no pain, no Jane. I PUT that into it. So, I must remember what I did, REALIZE that there is no FREEDOM from God, and simply understand that I will never have money to experience freedom!’
“No, James…” I grab his face with my hands and give him a hot kiss on his lips. ‘Not like this.”
He is so shocked by my active behaviour that he stops his rant for a second.
“If my books would sell, I would not have to bow to THE MAN! But my books do not sell. So I must forget about FREEDOM. If it is any consolation, although JKR had a pretty wild run with all that crap, now she is in total shambles, just like the ego wanted. That bitch. Serves her right to experience something that will never be available to ME!”
I kiss him again, and he gives up trying to talk as I’m kissing him.
“Wallace… Geez!” He smells like the whiskey he’s been drinking all morning, and he can push me away if he wants to. In fact, I am expecting it.
“Granted, the ego has no idea where it is pushing you!” He finally breaks through my kiss, but does not push me away. “And still. Still, Wallace. You never hated ANYONE. So you will never understand my thirst to do things MY WAY.”
The last two sentences. How are they connected?
But you don’t ask James questions. Not like that. Eventually, his angry rant turns into incoherent mumbling, and James is asleep.
I lay by his side breathlessly, caressing her long blonde hair. Then I get underneath the blanket, and spoon her from behind, very carefully.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. But I will never let you go. My Jess is not a mess. I will fix you.” I whisper to her, and while I am there, James is Jess.
Then Matushka and Lady Ann call me from the kitchen, and I must go help them.
Three hours later. I’m back in bed with Jess. If only for five minutes.
Comes Henry. Jess becomes James as she sleeps in my embrace. Immediately, James begins to smell like an unwashed, drunk guy. My beloved Lady’s another avatar.
Comes Mr. Rockford. James turns into Jess again.
Henry frowns and makes a motion for Rockford to suppress his filters.
Jess is James. James wakes up.
“Jesus, guys, you fought over which avatar to put me into? I was like - WTF, I’m switching genders faster than Mr. Garrison.”
“No, James. This is NOT what you should be worried about.” I say, as I get out of bed and tie up my dressing gown, with Henry looking at me, as in “hurry up and bring him up to speed.”
And I do. This is what happened, James, this is what you said. You fell out of a very important communication session, and you let the STUPID run your mind and your mouth.”
“Really?! I said all that under the influence of poison from the machine?! FUCK! I have hurt Henry, and I have insulted His Highness!!” James is repentant. And hungry.
“If it is any consolation, His Highness said that he had been insulted before by people a lot bigger and more powerful than you. And he survived it.” Henry steps in, and brings up Jim’s green bridge plate. “What went wrong, James? Where did you make the mistake of accepting an ego-protocol?”
James covers his face with his hands, and I see that he is smiling underneath.
“His Highness has a sense of humour. And I would not call it “dry”, or “British”, for that matter.” He says. “Henry, I can’t begin to tell you how shocked I am at my own behaviour. How can I make it up to you? I will tell you everything I know about my shameful breakdown!”
Henry is still in front of the bridgeplate, but now he is staring right in front of himself with a facial expression so frozen and unmoving that it feels like its was made of stone and stood here for eons, like a Sphinx.
‘Would you care for a dinner? While you were out, Matushka, Lady Anne and I made us a nice meal!” I say to de-stress the atmosphere.
Henry nods, James gets up from the bed, and straightens up the sheets, crumpled by us. God have mercy on me. Mercy… Compassion. Oh, yeah.
“His Highness also would like to tell you that no marriage is exactly the same, and he feels compassion for what you’ve been through. Of all people, His Highness knows how it feels when one is left without compassion.”
“OK.” James says carefully. “I did not expect any compassion. So, I am twice as grateful.”
- 50 pages from the top of Chapter
“If I look at the situation with the eyes of God, I am afraid that I will remember how cold I am, how far I have fallen, therefore how much of God’s Grace and Love I have missed.”
“Allright, what if I was making just as much money, and I was giving it to YOU, my wife. Would I still be an idiot?”
James studies me for a few seconds, testing me up and down, wondering what it would be like to be my “wife”.
And as I study Jim’s stubborn, tormented features, I remember Sheba’s advice: “Do not encourage his angry rants. Once started, he can’t stop using Father’s Tool until he talks himself into vomiting.”
“Now you are twisting it!” James concludes after scanning me this whole time, leaving no stone unturned in my soul. The man truly spits on every boundary he sees.
“No, James, YOU are twisting it. If I was making the same amount of money, but spending it on drugs instead of my children, would I be a good man in your eyes then?”
“Of course, not… I did not mean it that way, Wallace. I meant, you were not supposed to have a family!”
“Because I am transgendered?”
I am not supposed to engage him.
Not supposed to engage. But I really need to have him open up over his eternal “look at that idiot! He was fine until he started a family! Who held a gun to his head to do it?”
“No! Because this is where ALL THE PAIN comes from. My family hurt me so much. Then, H.M. sucked dry what was left. And no one even noticed what they did. Conclusion: if you are alone (not with THEM), your family can’t hurt you. If you also have children, now you are framing yourself for even more pain. I was just trying to push you towards what you wanted way back when.”
“How do you know what I wanted?”
That stops his mounting pressure.
“James, we are not supposed to be having this conversation. I know I scratched a very painful place in your soul. You seem to be under delusion that your family had hurt you.”
“DELUSION??? That’s because you simply don’t know my sister!!! Or, my mother.”
Here he goes, and I triggered him! Wrong move. Wrong step. I look down and see the rocks crumbling from under my feet, falling into the bottomless precipice. Get. Out. Of. Here.
“Can we stop this conversation before Henry rips me a new one for engaging you in a very painful subject?”
“Anything for Henry.” James exhales, and pulls out of the mental images of his family he worked so hard on forgetting.
We have half an hour before James gives a recorded lecture. His schedule is slowly beginning to get restored. I need to help him spend this half an hour in a healthier atmosphere.
“Let’s play Dadya Vanya” I suggest.
“Blyat…” James starts a cigarette. “I don’t remember what the book is all about. Some dark, sappy Russian tear jerker, I’m sure. Give me a couple of days, I will look it up on Wikipedia.”
There is only this much you can ask of a man who spent the last 20 years trying to FORGET the proverbial Dadya Vanya.
“Do you remember “Cherry Orchard”?” I still need to help him heal, not hurt, in the remaining 20 minutes.
“Yeah.” Jim says, unsure. “Checkov was nuts, that’s all I remember.”
Richard, who normally goes around the premises looking for stuff to clean and fix, is now right behind James, standing there like a ghost, with his head down. That’s his new manner. I call it “Repentant Mr. Rockford”. I do not know what is going on. I have not known him this way.
“Oh, OK! I’ll look it up! Znatoki Russkoi kulturi tut!” He rolls his eyes on both of us. “Let’s see what Wikipedia has to say.”
“I am late for school, Henry, can this wait?”
“His Highness can’t wait!”
“Why is His Highness asking ME? I vowed to defend “the poorest of the poor”, not “creme-de-la-creme”. Huge difference!”
“He is asking YOU, because you have extra senses. You can hear what is commonly known as “ghosts”.”
“Right, Henry! This is exactly what my dossier says: “Regularly communicates with spirits.”
If I know my James, the punch line is coming.
“His favorite being “Canadian Whiskey”!”
James may be very upset, but he never disappoints.
“You will jump into the darkness to seek Tigress, James! Now!”
“I will jump off the roof, with my naked ass right on the hedgehog, but not now, because I am late for my school!”
“His Highness needs you to jump NOW, James!”
“I’ll jump in two hours! Right after school, I promise! I can’t be late! I just got reinstated! Kumlatov took me back after two months of suspension. This is my FIRST DAY BACK! I can’t disrespect Commander Kumlatov like that!”
This is where Henry runs out of patience and pushes Jim in. Jim’s body hits the bed, but his mind flies out, and down.
“What do you see?’ Henry leans over Jim’s head.
“Darn it, Henry… You pushed me into the closet full of dusty long clothing. Hold on… I am looking for her… I can smell her. She is here….”
A few minutes of suspenseful silence.
Then…
“Oh! I know here she is… Got her! She is laying under a whole bunch of garments that was placed on her… she is suffocating there, and in her grief, she feels like she is falling. Hold on. I am falling with her…”
James is not silent on the bed, and Jaguar makes a few more steps closer to the scene.
“Ask Her Majesty, if…” Henry starts, prompted by Jaguar.
“Henry, “Her Majesty” is not the right way to address her now. This stuff is what hurts her. Let me try to get underneath all those titles…”
Silence. Then, “Tigress… you are sleeping. Please, wake up. I know you are in a lot of pain, but it is just a dream. God is here, He loves you and He will help you, if you hold on to my voice in your mind.”
“Where are you, James?” Jaguar speaks with much tension in his voice, which gets Henry on edge, too.
“I found her under the heavy garments, and titles, and all that stuff, I moved that off her, and I am hugging her back. She is laying face down. And she is falling. Prince Moretr is here… Wallace, would you help me stretch my hand, so I could bring up my bridgeplate. I need to generate an algorithm to stop her fall into the darkness…”
I try to get Jim’s hand from under his lifeless body in trance, when Moretr’s voice sounds in my head. “Ask James what algorithm he needs. I can generate it much faster and give it to him.”
“James…” I begin.
“I don’t think I need it anymore. She heard me, she tried to wake up. She has stopped falling.”
“Is she making an effort to get up?” I ask just so Jaguar can get a bit of a relief.
“Negative.” Jim’s lips barely move. “She is just laying there for now, but I am filling her with as much Grace as I can just through my touch. That will help her, light her way for a while.”
Suddenly, in my mind, Prince Moretr’s voice (as I can hear Jim’s channel):“I got her.”
Three minutes later, James emerges and gets up, his head disheveled, and his eyes wet with tears. “Jesus, she was in the dark for so long, she forgot what light is. As I touched her, I became submerged in her world. I felt that I do not have any reason to laugh. Even smile. All jokes, all funny things in the world were meaningless in the face of such tremendous darkness that has consumed her soul.”
During Jim’s speech I cast a glance at Jaguar, and his eyes are down, his head bowed, and he is deeply within himself. Possibly a habit to conceal his true feelings.
“For the love of God, sir, don’t you have any drugs there?” Jim starts at Jaguar. “How can they do this to her? Every last commoner in London is up to his ears in every drug there ever was, while TIGRESS is in too much pain to ever smile sincerely, and no one cares… Give her something for emotional pain!”
Jaguar’s face reflects nothing, his thick grey brows the only defense for his tormented, hooded eyes. Jim’s outburst washes over him like sea wave over a rock.
Henry shakes his head at James, as the latter taps his wrist in “my time has run out” gesture, and heads towards the door to get to his classroom.
“You pulled her through.” Jaguar says unexpectedly. “You found her, and you pulled her through. What do you want for your amazing talent?”
“Ahem…” James stops at the door with his lips pursed tight, and glances at Henry. “We have been experiencing shortages of blue ksill in Malachite Constellation, Your Highness. I am especially worried that come fall, I will be forced to land in the dry state with zero help from Houston.”
“I will look into that. Anything else?”
James sighs and shakes his head. But Henry nods for him to continue.
“I wish my talents were used.” He says begrudgingly. “I wish I had a project to look forward to. Henry, bless his heart, got me a volunteer job with this movie company, but it runs out in two months, and after that I’m back on the streets. Not exactly “on the streets”, Dr. Michael made sure of that… But I mean… Jeez, Your Highness, can we not even go there? There is not a thing you can do about that. Prince Moretr is telling me to wait.”
“I can definitely bring your case to those who might help>’
“I truly hate to be a burden to anyone.”
“You are not. Lord Carlton, will you please see me out. Now that this very important deal is settled, I have urgent business to attend to.”
“Yeah, true. This is when I was approached by this wolf from Hafnia, named Krotkie, or “Tavse”. He asked me to sign papers with him. Then I picked him up and I ran across the snowy desert for nine months straight.”
Standing outside of the kitchen door, I can only hear them. Jaguar’s voice is very quiet, while Jim’s hoarse whisper is very loud.
“Right, Your Highness, about that. My bloodline goes as follows: my parental side were serfs from Tula, my grandmother being the first child born into freedom… and my maternal grandparents were Siberian witches. My grandmother looked like her mother was knocked up by Ghingiz-Khan. I think that gives me the right to claim most of former Osman Empire, will that work? We can add it to the British Empire when the dust settles. Granted, Ghingiz-Khan had over 400 wives, I will have to share the Empire with the rest of the heirs… Yeah. Sitting with the heirs, splitting hairs… haha. Sorry, Henry ripped me a new asshole for saying inappropriate things in front of you.”
- 68 pages of Chapter 129
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
(Under Rockford-Kellspell-Smith Alliance)
CHAPTER 128 (from 119)
JAGUAR
“There is NO NEED to experience suffering. The only time you suffer is when you give in to the ego whisperings, Wallace.”
“Then maybe you should tell that to Jaguar. He is suffering because he loves her, and he can’t be there for her anymore, James.”
“U-huh… Thank you. Then the statement is not correct. We have to re-adjust this solution.”
Just today, with James. He is getting softer by the day. He is becoming a pleasure to communicate with.
“I am two years your junior, James. I must show you respect if only because of that.”
“I am prepared to play a different game now. Yes, Henry, lead me on.” James nods. “I blindfolded myself, so that the dumb machine does not jerk me off the path you are suggesting. I trust you.”
“And you should. As my Affirmation of Loyalty, I have brought you your reward, James. It is the path we will take together.
Now, where would you like to go?” Henry prompts, and I detect the continued surprise in Jim over the change that took place to his, definitely, and well-earned, most favorite mate.
“Towards Happiness, Warmth, Love, Light, and more love for me and you (copy H.M.), therefore, all those that are with us.” James responds without hesitation.
“Excellent choice. You can take the blindfold off now.” Henry leads James to someone we cannot see. He stands right outside the doorway to the hall, and all we see is his polished shoes and the front part of the jacket.
“Ah!” James says, and there is awe, and utmost shock in his eyes. “Your Highness, honestly, wow, my man!!! Here? YOU are here?! You are my main homie! So happy to see you!”
Lord Carlton shakes his head vigorously, and hissing whisper can be heard: “James, you delinquent hudlum, you do not address the Prince as “MY MAN”, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“Jeez... um... I am hearing my old Henry... What do I say, then? Nobody briefed me on this!!!” James takes a deep breath, breaks away from the captivating visitor, and turns to his First Spouse. “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?”
“His Highness would like to take up the role of our Acting Alpha, and he wishes to personally supervise our little gig.”
“A-Ha... Yeah. Totally great idea!” James is profoundly stunned, still studying the mysterious stranger.
“What do you say to His Highness, James? I need you to think straight.” Henry prompts impatiently, clearly high on his emotions.
“I may be the wrong guy to ask for that...” James begins, and breaks off, listening to the whisper from the new visitor only he can hear.
“Yes, your Highness! Oh? I am seriously totally happy at hearing that! We will gladly invite you to be our boss. My mates will be happy like pigs in shit, Your Highness!”
Henry jerks Jim by his hoodie.
“What did I say wrong, Henry?” James resists. “Wallace will be happy, Richard, too. Matushka, Kyle, Lady Anne, I’m sure. Krotkie will be totally tickled pink! Who would not be happy to have him run our show? I’m sure he’s got it squared away with Lady Lion, who owns our sore asses! So, what did I say wrong?”
Their convo is interrupted by our clandestine visitor, who whispers again to James.
“Oh yeah! About that!” Jim hollers hoarsely.
“James, keep your voice down!” Henry frowns, as he invites the visitor into the kitchen, now connected to our “Spiral Staircase Gathering Hall”. The kitchen opens up to the spacious dining room Henry ordered fro himself.
The dining room is complete with a large oval antique-looking wooden table, a cupboard, tall vases with burgundy-red artificial flowers, and dark-green velvet curtains with a view to the well-kept backyard.
The Mysterious Visitor is first to get to the table, and Henry pulls the chair out for him.
“... lost all my front teeth to fights and malnutrition… bad breath is because i ate onions this morning, Your Highness, sorry about that. I also smoke and drink, and my hygiene is poor, other than that I am ready to serve Great Britain!!!” James says in a manner of a soldier reporting to his commanding officer.
“How about you switch to Russian and I will translate, James…” Henry hisses as we all sit down. “So I could filter things out. Obviously I wasted my time teaching you propriety!”
“It’s OK.” The Visitor puts his hand on Henry’s, and makes him gasp with utmost deference.
Matushka is seated to the left of the Visitor, Henry - to the right, while James remains standing and talking, and Richard with Lady Anne start serving tea.
“Henry, I’m so sorry, my love. But I must play this by ear. In an emergency the cat lands on all of his four feet! I never saw THIS coming!”
“Why do you think you were given a teacher of PROPER British English?! That was two months ago, James, and, clearly, you have learned NOTHING!”
“How do you translate “WTF” into Proper British English? “What is going on” just does not quite cut it! Not enough primal roar in it. Henry, we are ALL two clicks away from a complete DeVo, what difference does it make, speech will be obsolete very soon!”
“Why won’t you lecture His Highness on THAT?!”
“Gentlemen!” The Visitor says in a soothing way, as Lady Anne pours chocolate mint tea into his cup.
“Thank you!” He nods to Lady Anne. “Lord Carlton, I will most definitely let your father know…”
Henry goes pale and closes his eyes. Only for a second, but with enough drama for James to come and hold him in place for the fear to see him faint.
“… that you have arranged for a splendid reception for me.”
Henry looks straight in front of himself and exhales slowly, carefully, and with disbelief.
“Be secure in the knowledge, that I am satisfied. Now, I will talk to James. I am in dire need of information, and I do understand American English. Rough as it is, it will do. James, please brief me on what is being done on the rescue effort.”
“…without dropping too many f-bombs, forcing me to drop them, too, because it is the only way to get through to you, James.” Henry finishes in a barely audible whisper.
“We can all agree on that.” The Visitor nods to both Henry, and James.
“So, yeah, um... Totally. I agree. Henry, my heart is bleeding for how much I hurt you with my behaviour. I will make it up to you now. Your Highness, will you please tell Henry’s father, what a good fuck he is. I have topped many men, but Lord Carlton Senior’s son…”
“JAMES!” Henry is now blushing and distraught.
“I was trying to commend you!”
Now, not just Matushka, but everyone, including our Visitor, is laughing. Everyone, but Henry. And we have to. It is the best way to diffuse the situation.
… as I make up a letter in my mind. “Dear James, how many times have we discussed Henry’s pain: he never came out of the closet because his father clearly told him that he will not have a homosexual son. What about the shame of having a homosexual son did you not understand?!”
“U-huh… Anyway. Think outside the box, my friends! On Andromeda everyone is a hermaphrodite.” James rolls his eyes. “About MEOL, Your Highness. Great Britain will be given a continent the size of itself plus all of its colonies that you guys ever had. And big chunks, like India. Not India itself, but just territory-wise. Maybe three times that much of territory. I am totally thrilled to tell you that Henry worked tirelessly on behalf of his country, and he is a true patriot. I was floating rogue, like Mr. Hankie in the toilet... Hehe-he... Do you watch “South Park”? Anyway, I was floating, and he sent Krotkie to pick me up, and they dragged me out of the gutter to serve the British Empire. I even came up with a slogan we can use. “Make Great Britain Great Again!” How’s that? Do you like it?”
Henry no longer makes any motions to get James to use manners. We are going to have to work on his manners. As soon as we are done laughing. While Henry sits there, defeated, with his head down.
“Henry recruited me in the ways you cannot imagine, five years in the making. I can see now. Even Sheba did not suspect the depth... and girth, come to think of it, of his involvement.”
I can almost hear pre-recorded bursts of laughter in the audience.
Henry’s phone rings, he looks at it, and gets up quickly. “Your Highness, I must take this call!”
The Visitor nods, and Henry leaves.
Ok, we now are trying to STOP laughing. Matushka and me sit with our heads deeply down, choking. Lady Anne hides her face behind a large teapot she is carrying.
“This compound is full of history. My history with your faithful agent, Your Highness. And this here dinner table, at which you sit, I fucked Henry on this table many, many memorable times! ”
Henry was saved by the bell, he was. If Jim’s previous comments took his breath away, this one would have definitely killed him.
And we are beginning to adjust to the new reality: The pure fresh water of the establishment was about to collide with the salt of the Earth of James Kellspell. We were going to get a better, more capable symbiosis.
“I am SO HAPPY to have united back with you! Talking about A LARGE CHUNK OF AN AMATRIX!”
“No, not that.” Jaguar shakes his head slowly.
James thinks for a second. “Bullshit, Your Highness. They named a planet after you on Cassiopeia.”
Now Jaguar is silent, thinking.
“I may have misheard them, but that was long before I had a crush on you! And if not the Amatrix, then tell me, how is it that I feel so close to you, when I always hated the fat cats?”
“What is an “arsehole”, James?”
“A mask, I guess.”
“Then what is a “fat cat”?”
“Oh, I see your logic. Steniyamas to that!”
Jaguar gives James a reserved smile, with the expression “I do not hear that every day.”
We quit laughing, and we are told that James just SPOKE GREEK to Jaguar.
And I would not put it past him. Jim learned two foreign languages all by himself.
“So, anyway, back to business, Your Highness. This is what I have to report. Great Britain will be getting a large continent, IF we promise TO take Ireland and Hafnia… I mean, Denmark. We have two agents from these countries who are working tirelessly on behalf of the Crown, Andrew and Krotkie. I believe we must reciprocate.”
“Let me discuss this, and I will get back to you. But, in advance, I do not see why not. Congratulations on your achievement.”
“Thank you, Your Highness! Um… Actually, MEOL was not my achievement. I knew nothing about it. An American citizen, as much as I know, named David Reddington, applied a lot of effort and negotiation skills with MEOL Parliament to secure the continent for the filming of our dumb show. Now, I see, that he was securing it for so much more. It will be very spacious for your Empire there, sir. Totally cool, if I must say. There is no water there, though, and it’s only 3 yarkis of light… The Tribelin is set like your brightest moon.”
“No water…” Jaguar repeats. “Is that normal for their civilisation, to homestead a planet with no water?”
“Yes, sir, totally. They are essentially a blob of silicone that was born in the ocean of liquid nitrogen. Water, oxygen, sun - all that is poison to them. But worry not, yeah… They understand the needs of humans. They were partially fused with humans about nine hundred million years ago to obtain a skeleton. I really was not ready for this report, so my thoughts are disheveled. All we need to live will be “placed” via so called, ehm… “Hermit Channels”, superimposed from Parallax, Pleiades. It’s a lot of spiritually-technical stuff, if you will… I can prepare a more detailed report on how Hermit Channels of Parallax work. That will be something our Andromedan counterparts will negotiate. The project of saving the proto-Earth is an effort of more than one civilisation. But all that will be arranged for us.”
“So excited… I did not know that life could be so good! Henry was right! We WERE meant to be together and happy! May I kiss your hand?”
A whisper is heard.
“Got it.” James replies. “May I sniff you, then? You smell totally straight. That’s for one.”
Whispering again, and Richard reaches out to touch Jim’s neck. His head falls back. “Thank you. I get overtaken by the dumb programming that compels me to use Father’s tool non-stop… Meaning, talk and obtain intel…”
“I will take care of all your, and your mates’ needs, James.” More quiet whisper.
“Oh, yeah, about that!” James is still not quite there, and, excited, he responds loud enough for Mr. Milgram to hear us on the second floor. “Don’t worry about my homeland. I am not “defecting” to your side. I don’t need to be at home personally to save them. Once we initiate the reaction, and develop the momentum, all I need to do is get in touch with Dadya Misha, for one. Or, Alexey Anatolievich’s comrades. EIther one of them, or both, will lock onto their supporters, who will spread the effect. Not a big deal. But, personally I have an ardent desire to serve your Queen. I have no idea why. I do not remember having this feeling before. Because Henry gave me drugs, I guess. But I do believe you guys are the best thing in terms of totally cool organisation. Other than that Henry and I fucked up so much with Mr. August… Seriously. We need to fix that… The rest is cool.”
Jaguar nods. “We are going to need your scientific knowledge, too. Your dossier states a few incredible scientific discoveries.”
“U-huh… Who wrote that dossier? Henry? I have no scientific degree. The only degree I ever saw was in the bottle of vodka.”
By now me and Matushka have learned to internalise our LOL. Richard, however, remains serious, even sullen.
“I did not say we need your “degree”, James. I said, we need your scientific knowledge.”
Just as we learned to stay decent here, James throws us a curved one.
The message from James appears on my bridgeplate: “The Prince is not a turtle. Not easy to turn over.”
Matushka glances at the screen of the bridge plate, and here we both are choking again. “The security will remove us if we do not stop.” I remind her through laboured breaths.
“I know…” She responds, and bows her head. “When this is all over, I want you to read it back to me. We can go to my bedroom and rock the casbah. There we will have the transcripts, and will laugh all we want.”
I nod, and try to focus on what is going on.
“So, anyway, back to business, Your Highness.”… With a self-content face, Mr. Kellspell. Next, “Bullshit, Your Highness”. That one sent me spinning. And, as if one could ever top that, “May I sniff you, Your Highness.” Henry reads the message that he received on his phone from my bridge plate, dedicated to monitoring James.
“How can I make it up to you, Henry?” James bleats like a beaten sheep.
That’s what they say instead of “sorry” in their relationship.
“For fourteen months I trained you. Then, Wallace taught you proper English for two months. Quite a waste of time, would you admit?” Henry casts a fiery glance at me, making me lower my eyes and shift uncomfortably on the rug.
“Henry, I was never warned… I did not think His Highness was here for real…” James sighs, sitting in front of Henry on the Mood Rug, the space underneath him glowing deep green, the colour of warming, awakening consciousness.
That’s his excuse? Richard, sitting to the right of James, catches my eyes and we both shake heads in disbelief. But, to his defence, James often shifts from defiance to confusion, a very common trait of those under the control of the dumb machine.
“He stood right in front of you!” Henry growled.
“When you do so many drugs, Henry, you never know what is real, and what is not. The man kicks the bucket, and suddenly he is in front of you, I mean, come on!”
“I acted like an imbecile because I thought I was dreaming”. This is the most ridiculous argument I ever heard! You better straighten up, James.” Henry is irate, red splashing all around him.
“Yes, Henry…”
I get detached from reality for just a second, and recall how I took James last night. I told him the truth. I said I was hopelessly in love with his female avatar. Also, as much as I am tormented by it, I do have the equipment, and I can use it. James readily agreed.
I did not last long, for I wanted her so much. But, as Sheba knows so well, there is a line of people to be with Jess. So I had to wait my turn. The buildup was immense. She is most captivating in both avatars.
It was such a pleasure to be able to have her… I am still deeply in those incredible feelings when Henry calls me to back him up.
“Mr. Smith, how would you describe Mr. Kellspell’s behaviour with His Highness today?”
Startled, I quickly get back into reality.
“Defiant, Lord Carlton.”
“Oh, come on, Wallace…” James moans.
“Mr. Rockford?”
“Very inappropriate, Lord Carlton.”
“Mates, seriously, what did I do…”
“I am going to explain for the last time, James. His Highness is not your “buddy”. He is our…”
“Sovereign?” James opens up his eyes really wide.
“No. But close.”
EIGHT STALKS OF BROKEN CELERY
Censored {alaetar, AKS, Kriagir Dorilin}
“She is worthless in his eyes.
She’ll stay worthless till she dies.”
James, after a fight with H.M.
over women’s rights.
“You are worthless, unless you are CHOSEN, like Henry.”
James, distraught over problems in his relationship with H. M.
“If you do not follow my rules, find somebody who cares.”
H.M., to Jim’s request to have
compassion for his “hoarding disability”.
“Worry not about me. One more cigarette, and I will dive right back into the torment with no end. I promise, I will not utter another word of complaint. It does not do us any good. Grace is only for the Chosen. I understand that. Someone gets it all, and most get none. Thank you, everyone.”
James, really wanting to kill himself, but knowing he promised to take that option off the table, no matter what.
“So, am I worthless?” Matushka asks, after James is done vomiting out what he thinks about the current state of things.
“Yeah!” He confirms readily. “Your husband is going to give me a black eye for that, but I am used to it. Before he does that, though, I will help you with your pain. Here.”
“What is this?” Matushka looks at a package of celery sticks from a grocery store. “Did you take this from the kitchen?”
“U-huh” James finishes his 20th cigarette in two hours (generally he is only allowed 10 a day), and pulls one stalk out of the plastic bag. “Here, I will show you what to do. You husband wanted me to take away your pain. Would you like to learn how?”
“I would.” Matushka says cautiously, and takes a stalk just like James did.
Then James twists the stalk, and breaks it in half with a blissful smile.
“Do it. Do the same.” He encourages. “It feels very good.”
“OK.” Matushka twists and breaks the stalk.
“You just broke the neck of your hopes.” Jim comments, his eyes glazed with pleasure.
“I did not want to do that.” She responds, and holds the broken stalk, as if trying to bring it back together.
“Break your hopes. Abandon them. It is the only way to avoid pain.” James encourages.
Matushka drops the stalk, and covers her face with her hands.
“You must understand that there is only THIS MUCH GRACE!” James leans over Matushka. “There is not enough GOD’S ATTENTION TO GO AROUND. Most of the time He hands it all to his FAVORITES, and totally omits everyone else. You are not on His list of Grace distribution. Neither am I. Get over it!”
“That leaves me with no hope to ever get better!” Matushka resists, now sighing over the broken stalk of celery.
“A hope to ever get better” is what hurts you. Kill that, and you will turn into a walking, breathing shell of a person. We got abandoned. Come to terms with it. It is easier that way.”
“Is that what God’s plan is? James, how can this be?” Matushka stretches to hold Jim’s hand.
“I can only give you what I have.” He responds, his face emotionless, almost serene. “For the last five years i was taught to be humble, and it will come my way. And I was humble, and I swallowed every piece of abuse and disrespect H.M. had to give me. But today I can’t take this anymore. My partner on Level 1 told me that he will give me no compassion, and he will continue to treat me like a dog, or a toy. An indentured servant, in other words. And if I open up my mouth LOOKING FOR COMPASSION, I will be told to go look for SOMEONE WHO CARES.”
“That’s awful.” Matushka gets closer to James, and hugs him.
“U-huh.” In an unexpected move, James pulls a gun out of his pocket.
“James!” Matushka shakes her head.
“Don’t worry, I will not kill myself. Especially in front of you. Whatever my beef is, you are not a party to it.”
“Tell me your beef. If H.M. does not care to comfort you, I will.” Her eyes get red, and she is now crying.
“I can never turn down another suffering soul.” James puts down the gun, and they hug, and cry together.
“I can’t wait anymore. I am 47 years old. Five years with Henry brought me one volunteer assignment. Henry did arrange for the hungry me to sink my teeth into something. This assignment will run out in one month. After that it is back to daily service and emotional beatings, with nothing to look forward to. Just like you. You, sans the beatings. Dr. Michael loves you, I know.
But me? H.M. loves me on HIS TERMS ONLY. You do not want that, he says? Look for someone else.
But GOD TOLD ME TO UPHOLD THE COVENANT.
I WOULD HAVE FOUND ANOTHER MAN, IF I PUT MY MIND TO IT.
But God is telling me to stick to the Covenant I signed no matter what. And I will.
But as of today, I wash my hands of the situation. He would NOT let me leave the fucker, and He told me not to kill myself. AND He would not give me a single reason to carry on.
So, I am in WAY TOO MUCH PAIN TO CARRY ON. You are the witness, that from this moment on, I shut down all my feelings, because I am done.” James grabs another stalk, and breaks it with unbridled anger and passion.
“I have nothing to look forward to. My life is endless service to a rich fat cat, who told me upfront today, that he cares nothing for my emotional well-being. He told me that I must serve him on his conditions, or “look for someone else”.
Even my housekeeper is urging me to “look for someone else”. And I can’t. I tried, many times, for many years, but God would not let me. He says - this one is for you.
I said - ok, but will You please show me that you love me, please… You pamper your FAVORITES so much, and you barely EVER REMEMBER about me. While I am CARRYING MY FUCKING MOTHER AND MY FUCKING HUSBAND, neither of whom have any idea of COMPASSION.
(James breaks yet another stalk of celery)
I am being moved from one golden cage to another, and I get no respite, and no mercy. And Henry, my only consolation, was taken away from me. Matushka, if I can’t kill myself for good, I am going to lock up my feelings. From this day on. Until something changes. I suggest you do the same.”
Crack! Crack! This stalk gets broken twice, juice flying everywhere. Jim’s face is dark and sullen.
Matushka sits there, with her eyes swollen and red, surrounded by the broken stalks of celery, while the rug behind them is glowing flaming, boiling red.
“I feel sick, I am going to throw up.” James says, as he gets up, with the gun.
“You go purge in the bushes, but you leave this gun here.” She says firmly. “And after you come back, you eat something. You’ve been drinking all day, and you haven’t eaten a thing. That is why you are nauseous.”
“Yes, ma’am.” James leaves the gun, and goes out.
Matushka and I remain sitting in dead silence, with the sounds of Jim retching on the background.
“Did he beat you up, too?” She whispers to me, as if Jim can hear us, or, as if he would care.
“Yes.” I say curtly, so that my voice does not betray my torment. I can barely hold back tears after what James told me.
“For what?”
“I can’t talk. I do not want to break down in front of you.”
“But you can watch ME cry in front of YOU for an hour?” Matushka is a very capable verbal sharp-shooter, if I can put it this way. Her logic is lethal.
There is nothing left but do the same as James. Just vomit it out.
“He accused me of “eating Grace with both hands” my whole life, and “receiving a huge bucket of it by the age of 40”….” I choke back tears to see if I can actually pull through without making a scene. But Jim’s poison is the deadliest. Don’t talk to me about DeVo. He would have made the most venomous snake.
“Please, continue.” Matushka encourages.
And I let go, and just burst out.
“He accused me of being “the Favourite of God”, while, he, James, is 47, and there is no end in sight for him. And I better not come whining to him, now that I got discarded from the trough of Grace due to old age. At least, James, said, you TASTED THE FUCKING GRACE. AND ALL I TASTED IN LIFE WAS SHIT FROM H.M.”
Matushka does not respond. Her eyes are hooded. I know, she is working through what I said.
The sun goes down on our bleeding souls, and eight broken stalks of celery.
“Dear Henry, it kills me to write this, but I do not believe that we belong together.
You come to spend time with me, but then you go back to your very happy, and very fulfilled life.
I go back to my very painful life, in which nothing went right.
Today I was hit really painfully by H.M.
I want to end this relationship and start a new one, like Dave Marshall. But Father would not let me, for I was CHOSEN to be a nurse in a mental hospital for $25 000 A YEAR WITH NO WEEKENDS OR VACATIONS. It’s been 21 years of this.
I want to kill myself, but everyone is telling me “not to jeopardise the mission”. Well, why should I care about the “Mission”, when no one cares about me?
You may not enter my Uret until something changes. It is better that we do not see each other for a while. Until I am settled in my new role of a stuffed animal (a dog on a leash) that I was given. I decide to change it into a “heartless zombie”, because it is kind of more fun.
I do not give a shit about this Mission anymore.
I do not give a damn about you, either.
I just want MY LIFE TO CHANGE.
OR, PLEASE STRIKE ME DOWN.
OR I WILL RIP UP EVERY CONTRACT I HAVE SIGNED.
But something is going to change.
You think I do not have the balls?
Watch me shut the doors.
Goodbye,
James
(Who am I to you, anyway? Someone who has the key to save your parents from another incarnation? I will give you this Key. Go fuck yourself with it.”
“Ok, we are done.” James says, somewhat distracted by his thoughts. “Let’s say a prayer. Remember, that our prayers are a conversation with God, who hears us ALWAYS. Then He sends us answers in many amazing ways. We just have to be attentive to the ways He does it. It is why we always record ALL MIRACLE-type events in our “Conversations with Father” diaries.”
I take a deep breath and watch the morning sun hit Jim’s dark Irish hair (in his male avatar), and his unshaven face. In his DeVo he cares nothing about looks, only comfort, and without Henry yelling at him, in these two months he had no one to remind him about hygiene.
“Let us ponder two questions during our prayer” James continues, and I know this is a dream, because no matter where, or when James is, I see the SUN touching his features.
#1: Where is God and how can we hear Him?
This is what I want from you here:
If you can ALWAYS hear your dumb ego, how come you can’t hear Father? Where is He to your opinion? How can you get closer to Him? How can you hear Him better?
#2 Who are we to God?
I will clue you in: IF we remembered that we are God’s BELOVED CHILDREN, how the fuck can we believe the ego when it tells us that God “punishes” us. Figure me this, Batman.
And the last one, you spawn of the devil:
By the end of summer we will be dumb and dumber! Ponder this, bitches! Class dismissed!”
Even before everyone got up from the rug:
“Oh…” Suppressed giggling from Matushka. “Jesus, I just peed my pants. I have to go upstairs and change!”
I get up first, my knees burning. Richard sits with his head down, still, as a winter landscape. It fits, for now he is completely gray now. Last time I saw him, he was salt and pepper.
Matushka, trying to go fast up the spiral staircase, while laughing: “James, you are the weirdest guy I have ever met! Who ever finishes a prayer with “ponder this, bitches!”?
“Yeah! “Jesus, I just peed my pants!” James lifts his head, bright-eyed. “Is a much better ending!”
“What did I tell you about respecting my wife?” Dr. Michael gets up from the rug, and it’s red into yellow all around him.
“Oh, I can handle him!” Matushka is now almost up there, only her voice can be heard. “The only reason I peed my pants is because the priest finished his sermon with “by the end of summer we will be dumb and dumber”, while crumpled and smelly himself, with a mess of a bedroom in the background… And when I am back, James, you better clean your room, and you take a shower, or you are not sitting at my table!”
Kellspell, about to answer, is now standing there with his mouth open. “That was a low blow.” He says just with his lips.
“You heard her, James. Get to it!” Dr. Michael places a hand on Jim’s shoulder, and turns him towards his bedroom.
“She would not have seen my mess if my bedroom had four walls.” James says, as he is being directed to deal with his personal issues.
“This bedroom would have had four walls if I did not have to watch two rapists.” Dr. Michael responds, his voice harsh and his face most determined.
“I get it.” James hangs his head.
“No, not yet!” There is threat in Dr. Michael’s voice. He hides it quickly, but it leaves a deep painful scratch on my soul. I can only imagine how James feels now that justice is finally upon him.
And then I can look it up on the Arkchil Record. And be shocked at what he REALLY felt.
As I follow James, Richard gets up, and goes to the kitchen, slowly, and deep inside of himself, moving like a zombie.
Only Tia Demetra remains on the rug, and the pattern around her is Classic Leot Colors. Meaning: her true state is being concealed from us for the purposes of privacy.
I was offered the same protections after the producers on the Andromedan side found out that I was uncomfortable with everyone seeing my real feelings.
The sun is going up.
In the evening, however, it will still be here.
“I know I made many mistakes in our relationship, James. I understand if you are having second thoughts about our Covenant. If you do not want me anymore, i can help you find another decent, strong top in London. I know hundreds of gay men, literally, hundreds. I can make phone calls to single gay men, and arrange for a date, or for you to interview them, ok? They ALL will be Rate A tops. Would you like that? Would that be a right way of making it up to you?”
James, holding the phone away from his ear, to me: “I do not know what is going on with my life! I lost an Alpha, now I am losing my ACTING Alpha!” To Henry, into the phone: “Whatever they did to you at that mental institution, Henry, you are not yourself! This is not the Henry that I know!”
“James, listen, I had time to reflect, and maybe I am a different man now.”
“Blyat!” James swears, looking at me. “Henry, this is not a phone conversation, for the love of God. When are they letting you out?”
“When you forgive me.”
To me: “Wallace, please look up how many heart attacks can they give you in one week before any risk for your health?”
“Can you say that in Russian?” I plead.
“We are not playing “Dadya Vanya”, Wallace! The forces of nature are after my Aplhas, and even my pseudo-Alphas! There will be no one left to run this show, if I do not put my foot down!”
I give him the cutest face I can muster.
“Fine! Henry, hold on. “Sili prirodi pitautsa otnyat moix muzhikov, Uolles! I Genri s dubu ruhnul! There. And I am not playing any more dumb medieval Russian characters!”
“My time is up for today, James, but I will call you tomorrow.” Is Henry’s response on the other end, as I bask in my fantasies of being Russian. They feel especially real when James speaks to me in Russian.
“Honestly, Wallace? You had to interject! Those were his last five minutes! There WAS no time to play into your fantasies!”
I stand there with a VERY SAD face. I am an omega. I would not think of bringing attention to myself like that. I was ORDERED to interject, because James was barking up a wrong tree with all the energy worthy of a better application.
But I must cover up the fact that Jim’s omega is Jim’s Leash.
“Yes, that’s what Sheba said - the Arkchil Operator is invisible. He has no voice, no lines, no opinion, and Kellspell never plays with him.” I bow low and try to kiss his hand.
“Ah, Uolles… You are very cute, but I am a little too stressed right now for the signs of your affection.”
That’s what gets me off. When he says my name with a strong Russian accent. Russian alphabet does not have “W”.
“I need your expert opinion!” James lifts me by my chin. “You knew Henry a lot longer, and better than me. Is this normal for him? To turn 180 degrees like that?!”
“I must say that NORMALLY he comes across a lot… um… smoother and nicer than what I have witnessed in the 14 months he’s been on on the set. But the filming set is far from a private arrangement. I never knew him privately. You are the one who… ahem, was intimate with him just about every day. Every night.”
James stares at me with a mask of desperation on his face. “OK. It’s time for Sheba-style investigative journalism. Who else here knew him before me?”
“Plenty of us, but all of it would be professionally only. I also noticed him being more on an even keel, maybe?” I try to force myself to look into Jim’s eyes, and I can’t. His overwhelming, powerful personality makes you feel small.
“Then it’s got to be the drugs.” He concludes. “Do you think we can nurse him back to his old self when he gets released?”
Sensing my mood, James grabs my shoulders and kisses my forehead. That compels me to look at him.
“I kind of like the new Henry. Why would you WANT his old sharp-edged persona back?” I say very quietly, burning with shame while swimming away with a hardon. That’s what James would call it, yes. He would also say that word looking at people. The man is truly unhinged. I get hard when he grabs me, and dominates me like that.
“If I don’t bring the old Henry back, who is going to lead us?”
“Here are the news, James. Even if you bring Henry back with all the machinations you have lined up, he is not going to lead us.”
It is, indeed, 5:23 pm, and the sun is below the tops of the pine trees. I’m just off the phone with Henry.
A table was brought in, and we are having tea on it. Matushka and i.
Richard is tinkering with the rails of the spiral staircase behind us, fixing something Dr. Michael told him to do.
“HE DOES NOT WANT TO BE THE LEADER?! Sheba did bite him right before she collapsed!!!” James gasps, but then gets a hold of himself and starts a cigarette. “And now he is IT.”
“Maybe Henry has learned to govern his emotions.” I say, savoring Matushka’s excellent tea.
“Maybe I just lost MY BEST MAN!” James growled through his teeth.
“Maybe you should give me some lines, James.”
“Oh!” James shakes his head and drops on his knees in front of Matushka. “Say what you want, my Lady, but we are LEADERLESS!”
“Say what you want, my husband is qualified to lead us.”
“OK.” James kisses Matushka’s hand. “Then who is going to fuck me?”
“JAMES!” Appalled, I even get up.
“Is that your way of telling me to go fuck MYSELF?” He smiles at me.
I could try and get mad at him, but it is simply not in my nature. Besides, Matushka is laughing.
This is literally only a second time I have seen her happy. Since I arrived to the set.
(My official entry date six of {censored} LS, Kriagir Dorilin, but I came 2 months prior to that date.). That makes it four months.
“You don’t have the screw to finish the job? You should have thought of it earlier, Richard! You are done for today. Go take a shower!” Dr. Michael waves Mr. Rockford away, and then goes straight for James.
Dr. Michael grabs James by his collar, and drags him away from Matushka’s side.
“If you hurt her in any way, you will know my wrath.”
“Yes, Dr. Michael, obviously!” James goes limp in his powerful hands, and his head hangs down.
“You are to treat her like the queen that she is, and you are to do your best job!”
“Hugh, come on, let go of him!” Matushka is amused by the show.
“Repeat what I said.” Dr. Michael hisses to James through his clenched teeth, pulling at the collar of his shirt tighter.
“I am to treat her like the queen and give her the best blowjob!” James gasps through laboured breaths.
Dr. Michael’s face gets a dangerous frown, but Matushka is laughing.
“That was very funny, James!” She says, and Dr. Michael begrudgingly lets go of Jim.
“For you, my Lady, “To Really Love A Woman”, by Brian Adams!” James announces one of his most favorite songs since he was a youngster.
The song starts playing, as I pour Matushka more tea.
Richard comes back after having taken a shower. Dr. Michael orders him to the kitchen to start making dinner.
I pull up my bridgeplate and touch the green cloud on top, and then read the resulting verse.
“This sinner is going to make dinner!” I point towards Richard.
Matushka finds it very funny, as she gets up and we start clearing the table.
Dr. Michael gives me a frown, and leaves to help Richard.
“How do I get my Henry back, boss?” James gets up and fixes his shirt.
“You heard him. You must forgive him, and he will be released. Help Matushka and come to the kitchen.”
“As I was running the comparative analysis of Richard’s personality development and mine, I heard the machine say (respond to its pre-programmed protocol): “Look, he was a different person and different times, he was allowed to be this, and then chase that, then he found joy, because he was working with this very talented woman. HE WAS ALLOWED TO TRY EVERYTHING, AND YOU WERE LOCKED UP FOR 40 YEARS.”
James sighed, and sat on the rug like a deflated lawn Christmas decoration.
“Is that what the distorted protocol is giving you? Tell me more”. Moretr encouraged.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chapter 128
A Rug of Communication/Mood Revealing Device was brought, and placed right between the spiral staircase and our bedroom.
It was round, and red today. That’s why Prince Moretr came over.
The rug changes colors depending on what emotional states it catches. This simple device allows us to bring others’ attention to our mental state. You come, sit on the rug, and it takes up the color of your mood for everyone to see.
Well, obviously, not me. Thanks for warning me. Whew. Now that I know what it does, you will not catch me dead sitting on it.
So, if the rug is red with no one on it - attention is needed for the whole team. As in: the team’s temperature is going up.
A team thermometer, how’s that. James will explain more about its origins.
Red for agitation, but if the rug’s colors float towards green - you are good.
Question is, will we use it. Who is not afraid to reveal their true mood?
I am not going near it.
And if I know Henry, he will not go near it.
Mr. Rockford that I knew would not sit on it either.
But Mr. Rockford has confessed and surrendered. I am witnessing the new Mr. Rockford. There is new strength and new repentance in him. And a new adherence to “obey your queen in everything and do not rely on your own judgement. This is where pain comes from.”
This new man will do whatever his queen will tell him to do, and his “Queen” is James in his female avatar.
Yeah, interesting changes here.
Right now there are James and Prince Moretr on the rug. Jim’s side of the rug is red, with yellowish and rusty swirls.
James is itchy, restless, and longing to stop hearing the stupid ego-voice that took away his peace.
Prince Moretr’s side of the rug shows one of the official patterns of Eridani family. In other words, a Sigil over his true feelings.
Not that he hides his feelings from us, but it’s just not our burden. His motherland is in throes of civil war, his wife is on the side of the rebels (if you can call them that), and his young daughter has ICAD. It’s, basically, AIDS.
If that was not enough, his mother initiated a genocide against his wife’s people.
In the simplest of terms.
None of it right now is of our concern. We have our hands full with ourselves.
But the most common of Earth men and the most sophisticated alien have one thing in common: they both long to stop hearing the stupid ego-voice that got them in so much trouble.
“I know I am not supposed to listen, but the Comparison Tool cuts SOOO deep. It feels like others are allowed freedom to be happy, and when they are no longer happy, they ARE ALLOWED to change whatever they are not happy about. Like, get new partners!”
What do you expect to hear when Ji gives you this ego-propaganda, and does not even know it.
But Prince Moretr wants the truth. He is genuinely concerned with our sincere understanding. And he would never give you what James calls “dumb advice”.
Prince Moretr is millions of years old. If that is not enough, he truly cares for the Emerald Filament project. So, his answer has to be not judgmental, but COMFORTING for James.
It is the only way for James to work. He needs to see if ANYONE cares about his pain. If he only has one ear to bend, he is good to go.
And they want hi to work. The Andromedans can pull it off, if they can raise an EGO-RESISTANT PURE AMALGAMATED TEAM, then they can copy our success, and see if they can fix their own society.
And maybe even stop the war.
So, now Moretr needs to see, what ego-protocols wash up in Jim’s mind, so he can follow through, and correct the improper thinking.
Proper thinking:
It is POSSIBLE to be happy JUST WITH GOD.
Jim’s current thinking: if only I worked as a writer, of only I had a project to inspire me, if only I was the “Chosen one”...
We ALL are like that. The ego-programming keeps on pointing at “other things”, that are BETTER THAN GOD.
This is what gets us all in trouble. White collar crime is all rooted in Comparison Tool that the ego tortures you with. “See, THEY have more money than you” the dumb machine tells you, “go find a way to get more money, and get away with it!” And people do.
James does not care about money. He wants to be the producer of his movie series, then the money is needed to pay the actors (he reasons in his mind). On a personal level, however, he finds money to be meaningless. It is what people do with it, he says. In other words, he does not dream to spend money on himself. He KNOWS it will not make him happy.
But TIME fo spend on himself - is a whole another matter. He is envious of those, who (as per the dumb ego) have time to spend on themselves any way they like.
That is why he used the Comparison Tool to see how much FREEDOM Richard was given in his life, as opposed to Jim.
“Basically, My Prince, I see that David Marshall (Level 1) divorced Andrea, and then each of them became happily engaged with another person. HAPPILY. And as they were divorcing, I was watching them, and thinking: it’s not going to work out. There is no happiness! And boom - five years later they are BOTH happy with someone else!”
“You were given other partners, too.” Moretr responds patiently. His task is not to “put James back where he belongs with his demands”, but to truly help him to understand how to be happy. Two different things.
“Yes. But this is what makes me bitter. It makes me bitter, for I listen to the dumb device, that tells me unbalanced crap, and it is the eternal “Fairy tale about the Fisherman and the Golden Fish”... But as much as I want to NOT listen, I still do. I am not going to listen any more fear-laced garbage - we are through with that, for sure. But as far as BEING HAPPY... Richard let me see the tapes, which fucked me over extremely painfully.”
“His tapes with Kate?”
“Yes! Everyone right now is talking about how he gave me a date-rape drug and did what the drug suggests.”
Jim’s Russian accent intensifies as he is getting heated up.
Moretr nods patiently, and with encouragement.
“BUT SO WHAT, you bitches. That was JUST ONE NIGHT!!! Better cry over what he HAD and I did not, like, my whole life! How about the fact that he had the freedom to leave his wife home with the kids, and GO TO WORK, where he managed to be HAPPY for quite some time (five years or so?), with Kate, as his colleague. Look at them giggling! Doing work together they are. Shamelessly happy with each other they are! FUCK! Rape me, tape me, as long as I get to be happy SOMEWHERE, at some point. But my torment never ends. I got raped fifteen times a month for twenty years, but THIS ONE TIME is what the public wishes to remember! Well, fuck you. It’s not about that at all!”
Knowing what we know about James, you would already tell the man to shut up and quit whining. That’s what they would have told me if I ever enjoyed his internal freedom to come out to the Mood Rug, and flaunt my rusty red into everyone’s face.
James loves this Andromedan rug. He thinks it was a birthday present for Lady Lion (as today is Tia Demetra’s 56th birthday).
The rug was brought last night. James woke up and watched the Arkabins position it not far away from the spiral staircase.
He, then, waited until they were gone, and got up to examine the new stuff.
He found that the rug was rather firm, and it’s top surface was “copy of the creature of the catacombs”.
In the morning I woke up and watched the footage of whatever I missed/needed to know about Jim’s yesterday’s interactions, and I stumbled on the footage of his nighttime exploits before I noticed the actual damned thing.
James later explained to me, that the rug is an imitation of “Peregrinus Rule” algorithms. A whole another story. We will definitely get to that, as the Creature of the Catacombs under Nasarat City, named Peregrinus Rule, is our friend, and he is backing us up with everything he’s got.
My personal feelings about the rug: I will make sure to never come near that rug. Are you kidding me? For everyone to know my true feelings?!
This is what I am thinking as James complains about not being happy with H.M., and wishing he had someone with whom he would be TRULY HAPPY.
What about this person, that person, they were not happy, and God gave them someone to be happy with, how come I am not happy?
Basically, he wants Henry back, while fully aware that his addiction to Henry cost him his team, his school, and his reputation.
But James can’t say directly “I want Henry back”. He says “I want to be happy.” To him, it is the same thing.
“Let me talk to your mates.” Moretr says.
James nods in a trusting manner.
“Hey, happy birthday.” He gets up from the rug, and walks by me slowly.
Matushka, Dr. Michael, Richard Rockford and yours truly are invited to the rug.
Prince Moretr hands me the envelope.
“Mr. Smith, please open the envelope and read what it says.
I do that and pull out the paper.
“Dr. Michael is the only one of the team whose MORAL COMPASS is in working condition.”
Written by Jim’s hand.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
EMERGENCY MESSAGE
3407 155 th Ave E. Parrish 34219
REG. J.KELLSPELL: I NEED HELP. MEDICAL.
APR 9 - 10 AM ADAM LEROY
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Rockford is out of bounds, James.” Dr. Michael whispers to James. “He committed adultery. Do you not see this?”
“So, why Henry?”
“I know why!” James exclaimed with joy. “I see the twisted protocol: “IT IS OK TO SUBMIT TO ANY TREATMENT AS LONG AS THE ONE YOU SUBMIT TO IS THE CHOSEN ONE. They must be “Chosen ENOUGH”.
“So, who else, BESIDES Henry, meets these requirements?” Moretr asked us.
“I do.” Dr. Michael responded.
“Absolutely.” James nodded.
“You have half an hour.” Uki Kumlatov said sharply to James as he opened the door, and basically, pushed the man in.
“Henry!!!” James jumped up and started towards his beloved mate, but, weakened by so much, he stumbled, and fell on the floor. “My Alpha stepped down… He was forced to step down, due to misconduct... What the fuck, Henry? I can’t believe this is happening to me… To us…”
Henry quickly crossed the bedroom, and lifted James off the floor. He was bleeding out of his bottom lip. Probably hit it as he fell. “Henry… Kumlatov is relentless, and we now only have 28 minutes. They took you away from me for two months, and now they are giving me… 27 minutes to fix it all, to talk to the only man who ever made me happy…”
Even as he was being placed on the bed, Jim’s head was down in complete defeat.
Matushka brought him a glass of water, and I brought him a napkin to press over his smashed lip.
I started carrying napkins with me at all times, for my perpetually bleeding James.
“I do not want to rehash what we already know. I know Rockford was charged with sexual assault, and now you took him in to protect him. I watched the footage. This is not our concern right now. Tell me better, why you MADE A MOVE to put out the Flame of our Love? I thought we signed the Covenant.”
Jim’s head on the pillow lays at such an angle that it feels separate from the rest of the body.
And then this awkwardly detached head starts crying. Matushka and me shudder. But we faithfully sit on the bed by Jim’s feet, holding hands.
Neither one of us has any lines in this scene, or any decision-making power on the set, but we are determined to support James no matter what. He’s got to have SOMEONE on his side.
“We have 24 minutes left, James, let’s not waste it. Tell me more.”
Jim’s head turned just a little, and now all Jim can see is Henry’s shoes, as he is standing over the bed.
“I watched the footage, too, Henry. Your footage on Level 1. It’s been rough five years for both of us, and I will not wish on anyone the pain you are in, because you are gay, in the closet.”
“I am not gay, James! I have a wife and two children!”
That’s what I said. About myself. But we listen on.
“The point is, Henry, you are enjoying your life, because you are a royal. And you will always be enjoying your life. I questioned myself, as to why I let Krotkie talk me into signing the papers WITH YOU. Why? You should never fall for more than your pocket can afford. We could not be more far apart from each other. I feel stupid.”
“I have not abandoned you! I called you, almost every day. I left you messages and gifts. I sent my people to give you a job!”
“True. All true. And thank you for the job. The British Engagement was brilliant. It is a temporary job, though. It will run out in two months. After that I am again alone with my pain and my lifestyle of a nurse in a mental institution with no days off. See, I am the pig, for once. An ungrateful pig.” James adjusted himself, and then his head belonged to his body again. “I should be thankful to you, for pulling strings, for a movie company TO FIND ME and offer me this totally unique job. But instead, I am bitter.”
“I am listening, James. We have fourteen minutes left. After that they are going to take me away. I suggest you spit it all out quickly, because we can’t talk on the phone. When I phone you, you do not pick up. And then I call Wallace, and you order him NOT TO PICK UP THE PHONE. Forgive me, James, if I feel a little bit bitter and put off, too.”
Well, that is a fair stab. Matushka and I exchange glances, and nod to each other. Since, obviously, no one cares what I went through, standing there, NOT PICKING UP, knowing IT WAS HENRY. Wallace who? That’s what Sheba was upset about. Personal Arkchil Operator does not count.
“I was told to quit you cold turkey, Henry! But deep down inside...”
“Deep down inside you wonder what does this top-of-the-world aristocrat want with you?” Henry walks there and back, digs in the pockets of Jim’s pants on the bed, and finds a pack of cigarettes.
“Yes.” James breathes out, and sits with his head down, as he is holding to his lip with a napkin glued to it.
“I believe in James Kellspell! I want him to follow through with his insane plan of channeling the aliens who will save the Earth. I have never heard anything like that before. That’s what I want with you.”
“You believe in all that?” James said defensively. “Not a surprise. EVERYONE knows you did not pass two mental evals in a row, Henry.”
I can’t believe Jim’s aggression. Has he forgotten who Henry is to him? Who Henry is to all of us!
But Henry is not rebuffed in a slightest. He seems to be a sail full of wind.
“Did you see the letter I sent to my most venerated employer?” Having regained his footing, Henry goes on the offensive.
Lord Carlton shocked us all, actually, this morning, when we received these news. He wrote to his employer that he refuses to follow through with his responsibilities until his female coworkers are paid the same.
“I hope you understand the difference between a publicity stunt, and a sincere desire to see the change in this world?” Henry looked for a lighter, but Richard was already holding it in front of him.
“Thank you, Mr. Rockford.” Henry nodded. Even with this emotional explosion Henry was rather subdued as opposed to his normal self, to my opinion. It would be either drugs they gave him at the mental institution, or the heavy thoughts. I found them to be of almost equal power to the drugs.
“Yes, and that was incredibly brave, and very noble of you.” James reached out for Henry’s hand, but the latter moved away. “That incredible move still changes nothing for me. I am not in physical pain, or a need for anything, and thanks God for that. But I have nothing to look forward to in life. You made a public stand. At your own personal expense. And the History will remember you. But it is all the same to the old Bonzo. I will die in this cage.”
“No, “old Bonzo” is me.” I whisper to Matushka, and that pulls her out of her own mental rut.
Henry gets dark, and bores a hole in Jim’s forehead.
Which does not faze James.
“These events are very far away from me, Henry.” James returns the stare, and to my surprise, Henry backs down, his face calm, and his eyes attentive, with no hint of a threat. “They are happening OUT THERE, where people enjoy life! But there is NEVER enough Grace for everyone! Here, I am in tremendous amount of (mostly emotional) pain, sitting in a golden cage with a few DISCARDED DERELICTS!” He glances at me, Rockford AND Matushka. “And nobody is coming here for us... So, maybe, you need to go enjoy your Grace, and I will get a bigger bucket for my tears.”
“Mr. Rockford and I will beat James up for calling YOU a “discarded derelict”. I say very, very firmly, and expect Matushka to be furious.
But she is laughing.
“Would you please keep it down, my Lady, we have no lines in this scene, and no say in their domestic.” I whisper.
“That’s why I am laughing.” Matushka explains, making an effort to stop.
I have not seen her smile, let alone LAUGH in all the long months I’ve been here.
Isn’t THAT a breakthrough, gentlemen?
As if... James and Henry are HenryJames again, an Amalgamated Creature. Once together, without hesitation, they became deeply involved with each other, just like Sheba predicted. They smell each other, and the world ceases to exist for them. Sheba’s notes really help me get up to speed with what is going on.
But... The saddest part is yet to come. Kumlatov was not kidding.
The door opens, and everyone finds their hearts on the floor.
“You have five minutes left, Lord Carlton.” The Arkabin says. These Yanari Arkabins are so large they would have to walk into a door sideways. But I think the doors in THIS compound were made with them in mind.
“Listen very carefully, James. Give me six months, and I will give you Grace.” Henry says and puts out his cigarette into a yellow aluminum ashtray with the word “Aeroflot” on it.
“Why? What do you care if I taste Grace or not? What do you want with me?” James moans, watching the Arkabin in the doorway, sensing it to be the end of their short visit.
“I want you to man up and pick up your phone!” Henry hisses in Jim’s face and leaves.
“You still have two more minutes.” The Arkabin begins, as Henry tries to get past him in the doorway.
“This is not a car wash!” Henry snaps and pushes his way out of the door.
My, goodness, farce!
Just when we all got ready for a sappy goodbye love scene…!
“Sheba Of Salem also said that Henry never disappoints.” I lean to Matushka, only too happy to play a narrator for her.
“I know! I read all four books!” She nods readily. “Well, that was a lovely performance with an unexpected twist at the end! Wallace? 5 o’clock tea at my place?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Let me call Dr. Michael and tell him to be ready!”
And we both get up and walk away, and up the spiral staircase, leaving James and Richard to their devices.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
(Under Rockford-Kellspell-Smith Alliance)
CHAPTER 127 (from 119)
AROUND THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE
“I have been envying you! I have done you both wrong! Please teach me a lesson!” I make my idiotic appearance from around the spiral staircase.
“Please get in line!” James is on the bed, holding on to his head, then rubbing his face with both his hands, while Mr. Rockford is on his knees on the floor by the bed.
“MY ALPHA JUST SURRENDERED TO ME!!!” James howls through his hands. “And he wants me to punish him for his transgressions against me! I told him he was full of shit, but Prince Moretr confirmed. The transgressions did take place, so, legally, I am now trapped with his tail in my mouth!!I am so stupid... Wa-allace! For four years I was waiting for my Alpha, and I got four omegas. On the fifth year I get an Alpha, and not even one month into it, he folds into the same basket with the omegas! I can’t believe my eyes!!!”
“I will still top you, Jess, it will be my honor.” Richard whispers with his head down.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! You surrendered to me! That technically makes you my bitch. My omega! How can an omega top a beta?”
“An omega is topping an Alpha as we speak, at the Levins.” I remind to the distraught James.
That gets him thinking.
“Your omega will do whatever you order him to do.” I suggest, helping Mr. Rockford with everything I have.
“My “omega” needs TO BE IN CHARGE! Mr. Rockford came in a guise of a leader, into a family that was in a dire need of a LEADER. Only in one month he discarded it, and underneath there was um... a guilt-ridden person. In fact, so steeped in guilt, that he had to build a front, and sit there, for the rest of his soul was flooded with pure guilt!”
“It’s been TWO months, Jess.” Richard says. “I did come wanting to be the Lead Alpha of the Emerald Filament project. That sounded awesome, and I did have the rights to take charge. But during those two months you aced all tests and I didn’t. You passed the mental eval, and I haven’t. I did you wrong, and you forgave me, and wanted to hide me from whoever was coming to punish me. The audiences wept, when they saw you hysterical on the floor, talking about barricading the bedroom to protect me from justice. YOU. They saw you. I realized that I could not take control of you. I am simply not worthy! How can I be a leader? I REALLY do not know what I’m up against. And you do!”
Jim is unmoved, sitting on the bed, seriously traumatised to witness his Alpha step down.
“James…” I say quietly, and get nowhere.
My mate is unresponsive, rigid and wide-eyed, like a stuffed cat the Egyptians used to put into pharaoh’s tomb.
All James does is close one eye. Now he is staring Richard down with one eye. He calls it “cutting the radiation in half”.
As in: he is radioactive when pissed off. He, then, closes ONE EYE so it does not hit us as much.
“Well, I can’t be in charge.” He finally says through his teeth. “I only passed the fucking mental eval by ONE POINT. The reason I knew the eighth answer was because I calculated the correct algorithmic sequence of the questionnaire, as opposed to using my moral compass. I must remind you that I have none. So, I am not leader material either.”
“You still DID PASS the mental evaluation. The last in class at the medical school is still a doctor.” I venture, and regret it right away.
No one can hurt you like James when he thinks you are full of shit. I feel like I am being shot with a Kalashnikov when Jim starts talking.
“Thank you for this lovely observation, Wallace. Must I remind you that this “doctor” did drugs, broke into people’s houses with criminal intentions, pulled a gun on his colleagues, and roughly half of his suicide attempts here on Level 2 were successful. Is there a more morally bankrupt leader than that?”
I take a deep breath, glance at Mr. Rockford, and open my mouth.
“Let me help you. The answer is “yes”, Wallace. If that is what you were going for. There IS a more morally bankrupt leader than me!”
“Like, who?” Richard says without lifting his head.
And that is funny. I could come up with half a dozen names, but Richard’s mind is just not here. It is racked on its own internal suffering.
Also, those other half a dozen names are NOT what James is warming us up for.
“Lord Henry Carlton”. Kellspell finally says rather loudly for his hoarse voice.
There is a minute of stunned silence.
As if, somehow, we hoped James would FORGET Henry when the position of a leader had conveniently come up?
Beleaguered and leaderless, we all nod.
“Then we have our leader, and you both will submit to him without another peep.”
We nod again. James finally gets from the bed, somewhat encouraged, looking less stressed.
“You will do what Lord Carlton tells you to do, and I do not want to hear Sheba-style investigative journalism into his underhanded dealings. I also do not EVER want to hear any shit about how unforgiving he is. You will take what he gives you, and you will like it!”
I could have said “yes, sir.” But anyone can do that. Instead, I pressed the green cloud on the bridgeplate, and read off the surface:
“Our sweetheart, dear James!
He’ll kick ass and he’ll take names!”
And then, to astonished Richard:
“You are lovely, you are great!
You’re gonna pull your weight.”
“I’m not sure I like this poem weaving app.” Mr. Rockford says sadly.
“You will like what Lord Carlton tells you to like!” James growls and brings up his bridgeplate. “Now that the crap is settled, let’s see how we can break him out. U-huh... Now we are talking!! Finally, A BREAKTHROUGH! Ok, what would Henry do? He will have a plan. What is the plan? Let’s write the algorithm.”
James writes the following in less than two minutes.
I receive it on my bridgeplate:
“Goal: To get Henry out of the slammer.
Means:
Who is on our side UNCONDITIONALLY?
(Like St. Merelion Broadcasting Station)
Utilize all available personnel.
Feel public opinion;
Get them to believe what I need them to believe;
Distribute a petition to bring Henry back on the set. I dare the Palir circle not to sign it. I will kick their asses off this ship.
Reach out into my karmic account. It is going to cost a painful lot, but what better purpose.
Thank God for this INCREDIBLE BREAKTHROUGH. Two months of waiting were not in vain. We grew balls and we are FINALLY ready to fight for Henry!
Personnel ready to be deployed:
Reg. James Kellspell
Richard Rockford
Wallace Smith
Kyle Merritt
Lady Anne (if necessary)
Matushka (willing to work big time, but go easy on her for now)
Dr. Michael (possibly)
I wish Isaak was in, but he will only be in if I answer his question as to why the innocents suffered. Fuck, a kingdom for that one. But he is right. I will never stop digging.
I wish Krotkie was here, he would have conquered a kingdom for Henry. But my Krotkie is on the other assignment.
Points to penetrate:
Uri Kumlatov (he is the one who is pissed at Henry the most, so I am the one who has to take him. Another possible path is to send the incredibly lovable, cute Wallace)
Prince Moretr (he’s got to make Henry’s charges go away, come on!!)
Call St. Merelion’s Black Hexagon Broadcasting. Henry’s legal problems are grave, but I do have friends.
Tap into Andromedan public at large. What organizations/powerful families could be brought to our side?
Dig into my karmic credit account.”
A little yellow cloud of hesitation hangs above the last point of Jim’s Memo.
“Wait, I already addressed that...” Appears on top.
Then he continues:
“How to put my personnel at work most efficiently:
James Kellspell writes to Uri Kumlatov: “Maybe two months of suspension from school has been enough, sir.”
Do not forget to mention my Alpha’s most shameful resignation. No, REALLY, Mr. Rockford?!!
James Kellspell also must plan how to work the people at large.
Note: Avoid Mr. August. He is still pissed over crap we did to him.
Lady Lion sees right through our machinations. Be very careful.
Lady Anne: do not let “my” ego hurt her. She started paying for us all. Let’s not lose the sight of that in my tunnel-vision style chase of Henry. This is how I lost Sheba.
Richard Rockford, the smartest of them all: send him to collect intel of the General Moods of the Andromedan audience, and the guests on Strobulus as to what they think happened with Henry. Make up a tear-jerker to get them to change their opinion about Henry, if necessary. Warm them up to sign the petition.
Sweet Wallace, then, goes around our Uret and Palir circles and begs people in the cutest of ways to sign the petition to get Henry out. Give them your best. Charm the crap out of them.
Note to self: do something with phantom pains. Fucking shit is killing me. Needles piercing, left side. Hurts like hell. But soon it all will be worth it. I sense the light at the end of the tonnel. I will see Henry.”
“Great memorandum, James.” I say in a very supportive way. “What does not kill us, makes us stronger.”
“What does not kill us, makes us angrier.” James corrects ruthlessly. “For two months every night I was trying NOT TO THINK ABOUT HENRY. And right before collapsing into unconsciousness, in my mind, I would kiss his hands and weep. Tomorrow, on your birthday, it will be sixty days since they took away my Henry.”
“Tia Demetra’s birthday, too.” I nod.
“Yes.” Jim’s face softens at the memory of Tia Demetra. She can be charming if she wants to. But it is not why he is attracted to her. He is attracted to her for her eternally bleeding heart.
“I’m tired of being angry because I am not with Henry, Wallace!” James continues, because nothing, not even Tia Demetra’s birthday, can distract him from Henry. “I honestly tried to quit Henry like a drug. More so, I lost friends because I crowned Henry my king. An Alpha came in, trying the crown Henry was wearing. Everyone said: Lord Carlton is a fake, the Great Pretender, blah, blah, take the REAL Alpha. I did. I enforced the Rockford Engagement and brought Richard onboard. Two months later, Rockford felt the weight of the crown, and surrendered via a sly legal loophole. Even as I tried to forget Henry, and honestly gave Richard a chance!”
I could say “Great job, James! You did everything you were supposed to do!” But anyone can do that. Where is my little green cloud?
“Let It rock, or let it roll,
I applaud your self-control.”
“Ha! You are funny, Wallace. Add to my list of tips to save Henry: write sweet poems about love and eternal commitment, distribute among Uret & Palir circles, groom them for signing of the petition to have Henry released and brought back to the set.”
“I am so sorry for your reaction to Kate.” Richard is restless, I hear him pacing there and back in front of James.
“Please do not be. You wanted to see my shame. Here we go.” James says, and they both fall silent, each deep inside of their own torment.
I am hiding behind the spiral staircase with my back to Richard and James.
I walked out. I could not take it anymore. One has all the Grace he can eat, another one is about to receive more Grace than he’d know what to do with, and MY life is over.
But, it is “a change of scenery”, to hide behind the staircase, cat style.
Who knew we would have so much fun with a spiral staircase instead of a fourth wall in the bedroom. Kudos to Dr. Michael for unconventional architectural solutions.
His task, however, was not to win an architectural prize. Hugh had the wall taken out to keep his watch over the two sexual offenders he needed to deliver to God before they found more victims to offend.
That was, pretty much, how Sheba saw it before she collapsed right there, not far away from where I stand right now.
There was only one offender then. James.
Offender #2 comes in, and the first thing he does is goes after Offender # 1. But Dr. Michael is ok with that. It ain’t gonna kill them. I respect his way of thinking.
See, they have already made up, and are now chewing away at someone else, instead of each other. Trashing your colleagues behind their back. Way to go, noble gentlemen.
But that’s not why I walked out.
“On an unrelated note,” Jim’s voice is now barely audible. He often gets quiet and subdued in the aftermath of his psychotic episodes. “I forgot to tell Prince Moretr about what the dumb ego told me. That is why I was upset, and I took it out on Kate. I know she is strong, and she can take it, but that is not an excuse. I always feel tremendously guilty after I hurt people. I can’t take it back, as she will be going through these tapes soon enough. She will know...”
I can’t see what they are doing now. On purpose.
My Alpha and my Beta are truly gorgeous. The first one is aging in the most graceful manner, and the second one is a vibrant, slender, long haired and green eyed Russian beauty. In her female avatar. Which she is with Richard.
They belong together. They shine together. An old fart like me does not deserve to even LOOK at her. Just kneel and worship.
I need to see her one more time... I turn around and look. If it’s the last thing I see!
“So what did the ego tell you?” Richard starts a cigarette, and brings the lighter to Jim’s.
“Yeah!” Jim takes a hungry pull on his cigarette. “The ego told me “blah blah, your engagement with the British will end, and you will not get another one, blah blah. But, see, Kate will get hers.”
“U-huh.” Mr. Rockford smokes, looking down, searching his mind palace. “It tells me the same thing every day.”
“True. What good does it do barking at more successful colleagues.”
“Maybe better not mention them at all. If they ever find out what I did to you, I will lose every single contract. And the media will not stop until they hunted me down.”
Rockford drops to his knees and kisses Jim’s hands.
“Thank you for this massive trump against you.” James smiles, admiring his Alpha’s features. “Can you smell this? My brain is on fire, thinking of all the possible ways I could expose you.” James chuckles and pulls a bottle of Canadian whiskey from the folds of Krotkie’s blanket. “And the shame you will be drinking by the barrel from every single person you ever worked with. They will make sure they will slam the door on their relationship with you. Publicly, if possible. Richard Rockford who?”
“Vivid.” Richard takes the bottle and drinks from it.
In a rare moment of zen they both drink, handing the bottle to each other.
The sun is down, so am I.
“And then Kate will be laying awake in the dead of night, thinking: Rapist? Richard? MY Richard?! I’ve been working with him this long, this tight. WHAT DID I MISS?!”
Rockford lays down, and closes his eyes.
“She would never say “MY” Richard. She does not care about me THAT MUCH. Other than that you understand me like no other.” He finally says.
James finishes the bottle, starts another cigarette, and hands it to Richard.
“That’s because I am not any other.” Kellspell gets up, and looks up to the apartments on the second floor.
“Dr. Michael is making kimchi again.”
“I’m game.” Richard says, admiring Jim’s was incredible curves.
“Who says they will invite IS?” James smiles, and continues with his observations.
“The lights are off at 7:37 pm at the Levins’. It means that Lady Lion has called Tia Demetra to do her Daily Affirmations Of Loyalty IN BED, and they will not be coming for dinner with the Michael family.
“Nice work, young Detective.” Richard nods.
“Sextective.” James dishevels his hair in a gesture of excitement. “I can smell sex ten miles away. We move on spying on our elders. “My sweet Mr. Milgram is at it again. He will be drinking until I answer his question.”
“And what is YOUR question?”
“Let’s start there, thanks. I have more than one. First question is: if 89% of human population is straight, then that only leaves 11% to the LGBT. Therefore, proportionally, ONLY 11% of the pedophilic priests should have been gay. Yet, 100% of the victims are BOYS. How the fuck ALL of the priests-pedophiles were GAY?? The proportion of victims SHOULD HAVE BEEN 89% girls and only 11% boys.”
“Yeah.” Rockford nods.
“UNLESS...” James widens his eyes, prompting his audience to get scared at the prospect. “Unless the gay pedophiles KNEW ALL ALONG where they could get off, and BECAME PRIESTS for the easiest access to what THEY KNEW were BOYS ONLY grounds.”
“That leads you to the second question. See, I have learned your constant conversations with yourself. You are beating your head against what you can possibly tell Isaak Milgram.”
“I feel like I must defend God. It was not GOD who exposed those boys to harm. It was the PEOPLE. But I am long way from this punchline. My defense has to make sense. So, my SECOND QUESTION is this: ask Isaak next time, if there are CHOIR GIRLS. If there are, I am stumped. If there are NOT, then it reveals a lifelong planning on the part of hundreds of pedophiles who BECAME PRIESTS with only one goal in mind: rich fields of totally unprotected children. MALE children. THAT is worse than what he is currently drinking about.”
“What if THERE ARE church choir girls?”
“Then I literally give up.” James spread his hands and raised his brows. “It has to make sense. Shit has to make sense, my Alpha! Something is missing from the puzzle. Mr. Milgram is drinking and barking up a tree. But it is not the WHOLE tree. How come NO ONE asked as to why 100% of the victims were MALE? It is not so ON THE STREETS. On the streets, 89% of victims of sexual crimes are FEMALE. And that FITS THE STATISTICS. My mother was a STATISTICAL ENGINEER. Statistics of your case must make sense. Otherwise the gentleman upstairs is drinking and cursing HOMOSEXUALS, because IN HIS MIND “PEDOPHILE” and “HOMOSEXUAL” is the same fucking thing! And it is not!”
“The statistics will make sense. Bring your attention to you and me. What is the plan, Jess?”
“We don’t have a fucking plan, otets.” James rushes to Richard, and rubs his cheek on Rockford’s hand with a blissful expression on his tired face. “Therefore we do what Henry tells us to do, and discard what he thinks is a waste of time. We are going to have to. You want to get off even more? Here is our biggest shame: the Alpha and the beta will have to submit to the omega. As Sheba has noticed many moons ago, the Hammersmith Bride is the only one with a plan.”
“James, we need to talk.” Richard stops his beta as Jim rushes across our bedroom, and through the sliding door, to cross the lawns and cherry trees to get to Prince Moretr’s office in the middle of our compound.
“My Alpha, I love you and we will talk, but right now I am full of poison, and I can’t seem to be able to stop the machine from feeding me the wrong questions. I miss Henry terribly, I know that I AM NOT ALLOWED to experience longing, but I am deeply empty without him. That brings sadness over the fact that I spent my life struggling, being treated like crap, reimbursed very little, knowing very little joy, while others look so happy on those group pictures with their colleagues, where they were working on the project together, and they were respected for their professional skills. All that jazz has escaped me. I must seek help of a higher being to cleanse me of the gathering poison before I discharge it on one of you. This is what the dumb machine is telling me to do. It wants blood, and I will deny it blood. I need it to whither away, not get fed. It is not your fault that i feel detached and resentful right now.”
“What a coincidence. I can’t remember the time when I haven’t felt exactly the same. Come to me when you are done vomiting your confession. I have stuff to confess too.” Richard grabbed James by his shoulders, with his head bowed, however.
“Last time you confessed I had to be tranquilized.” James placed both his hand on Rockford’s cheeks. “And not because of what you did, but because of what I imagined they were going to do to you. Hold your thought. I’ll be back.”
“I do not want to hold it. I want to vomit it out.”
“I’ll come with the bucket. Stay put. Love you.” James kissed Richard in the lips before depressed Mr. Rockford could turn away. “Mr. Smith, you are coming with me!”
“My Prince! I know you are buzy...”
“Never for you.” Moretr walked away from the table and spread his arms to catch James.
James placed himself carefully in Moretr’s embrace. Moretr is a Grehedi, an amorphous creature. His appearance as a human is only but an illusion. His capacity for any physical strength is less than 10% that of a human.
The most a Grehedi can do with his hands is lift a cup of tea. And if you fly into his embrace as you would with a regular-sized human male, you will just knock him off his rather unsteady feet.
“I am in so much pain, my Prince! The other day I wrote a decent patch to shut up the ego-machine about “imminent death from some disease”. I told it that there is no death, that God is in full control of my body, and I am renting it from Him anyway. The stupid piece of junk shut up. It was a huge relief.”
“I know, good job. We are already working on copying your fear-defense algorithm. Millions are being tormented by the ego that whispers every kind of fear into their ears. Your algorithms will help greatly.” Moretr sat down on a rug on the floor, and offered James to join him.
“Yeah...” James sat by Moretr, then he laid down, placing his head on his lap. “But the Stupid is now tormenting me with the Tool Of Comparison. It hurts like hell to look back at my life and see nothing put pain. Look at my soul.... Can you comfort me? Can you say something that will explain forty years of non-stop pain?”
“It will be my pleasure to comfort you, my brave researcher. Legends will be created about you.”
“This bit is not helping, for sure, and at times it is even annoying.” James sighed and reached out for his cigarettes. “Future is too far away! What about NOW?”
Moretr was ready to answer, when there was a knock on the door, and one of Moretr’s dark-skinned, long-haired Arkabins let Richard in.
“Found operative crying by the door, sir.”
“Thank you, my love. Richard, please join us.” Moretr gave his Arkabin a sign, and soon we all were served with glass bottles of tea.
The glass, then, will be collected, and will be shipped to Moretr’s Stelarius-on-the-Sea Palace. The information absorbed by silicone in glass will be carefully analyzed, so that not a shred of James and his mates is lost.
“Thank you, my Prince.” It is all Richard could say before he fell to his knees in front of James. “Do not ever leave me alone...” Richard wept, holding on to James. “Jess, please be mine forever!! I did you wrong last night... I drugged you and I raped you, because I could not handle myself... I am not myself when I lust after someone I love... Jess, please forgive me! I know this is not the kind of an Alpha you wanted, but this is all I have, and you are my only sunshine...”
Mr. Rockford froze on his knees with his head all the way to the floor, and somewhat pushing against Jim’s legs as he sat on the rug.
“This is fascinating, my Prince!” James brightened up, and ran his hand through Rockford’s short gray hair.
At least Richard HAS hair!
“He fell in Love with me 17 years ago, and since then he stalked me and looked for ways to get me to be with him. Once I let him, he changed my name, drugged me up and took me by force. He must truly love me. He is of the Chosen. That makes me Chosen. My Alpha is the best!” Kellspell brightens up.
“I raped you, Jess...” Richard crawled to James closer, and embraced his knees. His hands were shaking. “I gave in to my passions...”
“I don’t remember anything!” James whispered into Rockford’s hair, encouraged and uplifted by the flow of his precious Alpha’s feelings.
“That’s because I gave you a date-rape drug!”
“Which one, Mr. Rockford? How did you get it?” An amused smile played on Jim’s face, and he nodded to me.
“What difference does it make?” Rockford said in a tormented tone of voice.
“I just enjoy interrogating people. 50% of the time they have no idea what they are talking about. And the other 50% of them...” Jim broke off, as if he remembered something. “Let’s see which group you are with. You urged me to deal with it, and I will. So, did you give me Benzodiazepine? Or Ketamine? Maybe, GHB? All the effects are different, and I will be comparing your response with what I think I experienced, if anything at all. That is the only way to know if you are telling me the truth, besides simply looking up Arkchil record. But the last option is not available to everyone. So, let’s go with the good old detective work.”
Richard lifted his head, but remained silent and on his knees in front of James.
“That’s what I thought.” James concluded. “You did not give me any pill. You are just saying it to test my love for you. And my love for you is strong.”
Then he turns to Prince Moretr, winks at him, and points to Richard. “Says he slipped me a forget-me-pill. How can I forget a chunk of a HUNK like that?!”
“No, he gave you cat Valium.” Moretr corrects, his face a mosaic of colors as he watches his beloved Emerald Filament team members interact.
“Ha-hahaha!” James bursts out. “Precisely! I love Mr. Rockford’s humor!”
James turns his head around, as if asking for the audience to applaud. “Ketamine, then. True. I flew away, and I did not know why. I had the weirdest dream. In it, an artist was fucking me with his pencil, while I was his drawing... He, then, would re-draw me in a different position, and then fuck me this way. Wait a minute. This really happened. It is your favorite fantasy! Only in it I am much, much younger. My Alpha! You DID give me drugs! Where did you get Ketamine? Do we have a vet on board? And why didn’t you just tell me what you gave me!”
“He did not know what he was giving you, James.” Moretr offered.
“Oh.” Jim brought his face close to Rockford’s, and inhaled. “Whatever. How can I cheer you up? I love you. Keep up the good work. Welcome to the League of Extraordinary Nuts. This was excellent. How did you make me take the pill? Henry will be thrilled, right after we figure out how to use YOUR EXTRAORDINARY PASSION to make karmic credits. Otherwise it is just academic conjecture.”
“You need to punish me.” Rockford sighed and sat behind James, hugging him.
“I can’t. The smartest of us, Lord Henry Carlton, teaches us how not to lose our way in this world: only do what brings money. In our case it is karmic credits. Let me clue you in: we watch others with good karmic record, and see if we can copy the behaviour that seems to bring those others the most karmic credits. This is a perfect credit-making algorithm.”
“Ok, let’s move on to the next topic. Changing scenes the cat way. For example, you want to enter this bedroom. A dumb hairless ape will just barge in. It’s MY bedroom, right? WRONG! It is only yours when you are in it. You went out to shit - you come back, and there is a python in your bed! I’m not talking about your husband’s dick. Anyway, you stand right here, and sniff the air before entering...”
James invites Matushka behind the spiral staircase. They stand there together for a while, watching our bedroom. You might say that it does not get any weirder than that, but it is because you are new here. :)
“Now, I understand, that if I took a box, and put a guy in there, and closed the box, and invited you in, and asked you to sniff around, you would not know if it is your husband in the box, or some other dude...”
Matushka shakes her head no, while continuing to sniff the air thoroughly, as was suggested by her bossy DeVo’ing teacher.
“Therefore... You can stop sniffing the air, my Lady. I will ask you to rely on what little you humans have. Your eyesight and your hearing. Needless to say, these units are of very poor quality, so use both with all your might. One day the habits learned in the jungle will save your life! What do you see?”
“I see a very sad Mr. Smith with the Arkchil Operator’s bridgeplate, diligently doing his work.”
“...while his heart is breaking over being abandoned! Excellent! You gave me a very full picture, including the emotional color. Extremely important in the cat world. Any world, I would assume. You want to have sex with this hot babe, ok, fine, but she is not in the mood, and you missed that, you will experience 300 pounds of fury on your poor excuse for a cat. Serves you right. The color of her skin should concern you way less than the color of her mood. Way to go, my Lady!”
“Thank you!” Matushka smiled with satisfaction.
“What else do you see?”
“The bed is all messed up.”
“Yeah! A peek into a private life also gives you tons of intel you can use if you choose. You will make a fine addition to Catdom, my Lady! Poor sense of smell is a severe disability in the cat world, but you more than make up for it by using your other faculties! What else?”
“Mr. Milgram just finished drinking out of the bottle while looking down at us from the window of his apartment. He is standing with the empty bottle in his hand, with his head bowed very low.”
“Another developing drama. Also very important to see what is above you. Humans assume that the skies are safe, and they are not. Assumption is the mother of all fuckers. Let’s not be that fucker. Or his mother.” James breaks off and sniffs Matushka’s lips. “I like your choice of food.”
“Is this a normal compliment in the cat world?” Somewhat put off, Matushka struggles with acceptance of cat ways. She, then, wipes her lips uncomfortably.
“Yes. Nothing to be afraid of. And here is the reason why: only those who are close to you can give you this compliment.”
“What about acquaintances?”
“Cats don’t have acquaintances. It’s either you are mine, or you don’t exist. We believe that we only have this much time, which must be spent on deepening your relationship with your family, and the rest is academical conjecture.”
“Got it.” Matuska nods readily.
“So, today we have learned to be aware of your environment, using your senses, and take nothing for granted. One day this will save your life. We also learned to discern the emotional colors, so you don’t get slapped by the babes. And we have learned that Mr. Milgram ran out of whiskey. Let me call Lady Anne.”
“Last question, teacher.” Matushka thinks for a second, I assume, for the best way to put it. “How do you know the size of my husband’s penis? By smell?”
“Oh, that’s easy. By the size of his nose. There is a correlation. And number two rule - if it does not fit into your mouth, it will probably not fit into your pussy. But that is more from my days when I was in porn.”
“Yes! It’s all about cats! Class dismissed! Mr. Smith, please call Lady Anne to bring Mr. Milgram two more bottles of Red Label. Jesus, he drank two bottles overnight. Also, please check on Mr. Merritt. I must go and see Prince Moretr now.”
“Gentlemen... I have news.” James walks in confidently into our bedroom, while folding away his bridgeplate on the go. “But since I’m not God, my news aren’t always good... Good God, what the fuck?!”
Richard is sitting on our bed, handcuffed. And I stand by him.
“Wallace? Please feel free to explain as to why my Alpha is in handcuffs. While you are preparing, I would like to help you both recall the mental eval you had to take when you were brought in to replace my old team. Everyone has to take that before they are allowed on the set. Do you remember taking the mental evaluation, gentlemen?”
Richard and I nod.
“Good. I just received the results. You both failed it. Wait....” James gasps. “Is that why Mr. Rockford is...?”
I nod again without raising my eyes.
“Oh, f...” James is grief stricken. “So, NEITHER OF YOU know right from wrong. And the word is out. My Alpha has been taken for doing crap before I could protect him... Jesus!!! I am late to save my Alpha!!!”
“These are the wrong lines, James.” I remind him quietly, barely able to speak, my voice breaking up. “You are supposed to be on the side of Justice, not on the side of your criminally-minded mates.”
James looks at me like I just grew a long dragon tail. And some ridiculous donkey ears.
“Very funny. But stand-up comedy is NOT your forte, Wallace. Truly and regretfully, you DO NOT know right from wrong...” James shakes his head disapprovingly. “Forgive me if this situation brings up my PTSD since the last time I lost Henry to the same thing. I am on the defensive for a reason. Who placed handcuffs on my Alpha, Wallace? Tell me, so that I calculate if it is even worth it to defend him as opposed to the amount of karmic credits I will lose for disloyalty. Who is coming for Mr. Rockford, Wallace? Don’t make me interrogate you.”
“It’s not like that.” I offer, putting my shaking hands on Richard’s shoulders. He sits motionlessly, with his head down.
“Please enlighten me as to what am I up against.” James starts a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm down. “My animal instinct is telling me to defend what is mine. And this is where pain begins. Because this tremendously valuable and gorgeous Alpha is not “mine”. He belongs to God. That will change nothing, however. I will still defend him to the last bullet. Granted, Mr. Milgram stole my gun. So, the sooner you tell me who is after my Alpha, the sooner I will be able to let this person know that if they want my Alpha, they will have to go through me first.”
“There is no one currently after our Aplha.” I respond slowly, making sure I say all the right things, and omit all the superfluous ones, not to piss James off even more.
“Right. I will take you seriously when you start making sense. This is where I slap you, and you fall on the bed. But we agreed: no violence. Do not give me the name. But at the very least tel me what he is being charged with?”
“Mr. Rockford here has been detained for sexual assault.” I respond.
Jim’s pressure on me looks awful, but feels good. I just can’t focus on my own pleasant feelings right now. Richard is in deep trouble, and he needs help.
“BLYAT!!!” Ever since the proper British has not offered James a strong enough replacement for “fuck”, he reverted back to his native language. “Really?! That?!! It’s a good thing Sheba checked out a month ago. This month we would have for sure sank her sense of propriety between the shootings and another sexual offender.”
“It is, indeed, a good thing.” I agree with nowhere else to go.
“Will you tell me who he assaulted, or should I just look myself? I am not allowed to look myself, but I am losing my cool with you clowns. Don’t tempt me. Don’t piss me off. Just tell me who he took down, so we can maybe settle it out of court.”
“I can’t tell you that, because you don’t care who that is.” I take a deep breath and prepare to be grilled by my very aggressive beta. “All you care about is if you can get your Alpha off. Therefore you are not ready for the truth.”
NOW I am guaranteed to get another earful of insults. No one can hurt you like James. Ask Sheba. She was on powerful sedatives for weeks after 16 months with James. “Is your Alzheimer’s kicking in?” He told me another day, when I forgot something. The pain from that actually temporarily drowned out all my other internal torment.
James senses me very well. Not that it ever stops him from beating me up.
“All right, I’ll do it myself. Let’s think logically. Mr. Rockford is straight. Therefore, he assaulted a woman. There are only three women here. I am not seeing him attacking Matushka. Strike that out. Lady Lion’s channel is off limits to me if only because her IQ is 23 points above mine. So, I can’t see what is happening with her. But I assure you, that this Lady IS the LION, and she’ll rip your balls off. I am not worried about Lady Lion. You must have a death wish to attack HER.”
“You are barking up a wrong tree, James.” I say again, and for the first time in my life I wish I did not have ANY lines in this scene.
“That leaves us Lady Anne.” James continues as if I said absolutely nothing. “Mr. Rockford, did you rape Lady Anne?”
I might as well be invisible.
“Say yes, so we can fix it. Let me breathe a sigh of relief, for of all three she is the easiest to deal with.” James lights up another cigarette.
“Your effort should not be directed to saving your mate.” I continue with my desperate lines.
“Lady Anne is the easiest to deal with, because she is the closest to the Original Source. She will forgive my Alpha if I offered her perks and bonuses.” James plows on.
“James, you are being warned to get the fuck away from the wrong tree, or they will shoot.”
Not only am I invisible, but no one can hear me, either.
Zero reaction from James.
Maybe I should just go into robbing banks. Boy, will they be surprised when those bags of money will travel out of the safe all by themselves.
“And then we can talk how we can learn to keep our dick in our pants, for God’s sake, Mr. Rockford!!”
“It was not Lady Anne.” I finish my performance with my punchline, and simply can’t say another word, so hurt I am to see James pick the incorrect path.
“Oh? Please be suspenseful, Wallace. I love it! Give us another good five minutes of nail-biting silence before you drop the victim’s name.” James is now irate, as he stares at Rockford’s handcuffed hands. “Now that I’m at a loss about who the fuck that may be. And how much will it cost me to make it go away. Give me the name that will clean out my karmic accounts. And tell me, that the new team IS NOT like the old team, where it cost me an arm and a leg to fix HENRY’S EXPLOITS once he was discovered.”
I give it another sigh, to drag it out as far as I can.
“At least Henry lasted for 14 months BEFORE he was discovered! Mr. Rockford did not even last a month! If my team is to consist of mentally unstable criminals, these criminals need to learn to cover their tracks better.”
“It’s not like that, James.” I say again. Even quieter. For I’m going to get slapped.
Here it comes.
“I am not asking you to editorialize. I am asking for a name. Who was it, Wallace?! Now that we ruled out the family, was it one of the guests? Please tell me it was not some royalty, or a celebrity. Please tell me it is someone I can handle.”
His threatening tone leaves me no more room for maneuvering.
“It was you, James.”
“U-huh.” James stares at me, then at the handcuffed Richard, through the clouds of smoke from his cigarette. “How much crack have you both smoked, exactly?”
“We did not smoke any.” I whisper, because Richard is too guilt-ridden to say anything.
“Ok. Finally good news, then. Let me call James Kellspell and ask what he wants to make it go away. Something is telling me he will not ask for very much. James Kellspell will be the easiest man to make a deal with.”
“It’s not like that, James.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying. Now, quit wasting my time, tell me the name of the victim, and let’s be done with this little dumb skit.”
Jim’s bridgeplate transpires under his right hand, and seeps deep blue.
Saved by the bell.
“Aha! Some progress here!” James watches the seeping color, and it remains dark blue. “It WAS Lady Anne! Mr. Rockford, you raped Dr. Michael’s employee!!”
Chapter 127
“Richard did not rape Lady Anne.” I insist.
“THEN WHY IS SHE CALLING ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KERFUFFLE?!” James hisses. Come to think of it, he started talking just like Henry.
“This maybe a mistake...” I offer, and forget that I am both invisible and inaudible.
“Watch this!” James places his hand over the bridgeplate to accept the call. “Yesterday this woman cleaned after one pig, today she got raped by another pig, both my friends. I will make her take it and like it. She wanted martyrdom? I have plenty of it for her.”
Then he sinks his hand Into the blue mist of the bridgeplate to connect to the caller.
“Lady Anne? How are you? Considering all the circumstances... What can I offer you in exchange for my Alpha back? Name your price.”
There is a second of silence on the other side, and then the voice breaks through.
“Your Alpha back? Where is Rockford?!”
“Henry!!” James is gobsmacked.
“Why didn’t you pick up your bridgeplate? Why didn’t you let Wallace pick up his phone? Why are you avoiding me? Why did I have to pretend to be someone else for you to pick up your bridgeplate?”
“Henry... Ohh... I am not allowed to talk to you, that’s why! I love you, but we must stay apart for now...” James starts crying, for there is only this much his little heart can take.
“In as few words as possible, Kellspell. What happened to Rockford?”
“I come home and my Alpha is in handcuffs, ready to be taken away on sexual assault charges!!!”
On the other side, Henry just clears his throat. Probably, gobsmacked, too.
This whole time my poor dear Mr. Rockford sits there with his head down, not moving at all.
“They are going to take away my Alpha!” James falls on the floor, hysterical. “I waited for him my whole life, I had THREE OMEGAS before I got my LONG-AWAITED Alpha, and now, not even a month into it...”
“For SEXUAL ASSAULT?! You are kidding me?” Henry finally says. “Sick fucker.”
“I am not going to let them take him away, Henry, I will barricade him in my bedroom!”
“Your bedroom only has three walls, Kellspell!”
To that, James takes his howling a notch louder, words “what do I do then” can barely be discerned.
“Listen, you imbecile! You are completely spun out! Stop and think! I will tell you what to do! What kind of behaviour will bring us THE MOST MONEY?!” Henry’s ruthless tone wakes me up. I can almost see him slapping both James AND me.
James stops half way through his howl.
“And this idiot is my mate!” Henry continues his advance. “Find out the behaviour that makes us the most money/karmic credits, and do that. Have Smith, Rockford and Merritt, if he is still alive, do the same. When I come back, I will have a word with you all!”
“Henry!!” James weeps. “Please don’t leave us! We are leaderless without you! I thought I got us an Alpha for a leader, but my Alpha did not pass the eval, either! Apparently he had his demons, and now he slipped...”
“I have to go attend to business. One month I was gone, one month, James, and you and your new team have ruined everything I worked for!”
Chapter 127
“Henry... You are so right... We ALL miss your wisdom so much!!! How long are you there for? I can’t stand losing BOTH you AND him!!!”
But then, a tranquilizing solution arrow enters Jim’s vein at an angle just above his left shoulder.
“Wow, what is this?” James turns to me. “Look! Someone just aimed a laser target on my wrist! Only the laser is yellow...”
They must be shooting from Level 3.
The yellow light penetrates Jim’s vein, and he goes limp. Good thing that he was already on the floor.
Three Arkabins walk into our bedroom through the sliding glass door.
“Henry... I was shot with a drug... I did not see this treachery! They came for my Alpha... I am getting weak... I can’t defend my Alpha! When I wake up, I will boycott the filming of the next Episode...”
“You will do no such thing! Only do what PLEASES the producers, not pisses them off!!!”
But it is too late. I leave Richard’s side, and come to hold my James. He has slipped into unconsciousness.
The Arkabins approach us, and take away James instead of Richard.
One of them touches Richard’s handcuffs, and they unlock with a soft click.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
(Under Rockford-Kellspell-Smith Alliance)
CHAPTER 126 (frm 119)
There is a noise upstairs, coming from Dr. Michael’s apartment. A scuffle? Someone fell?
I do not have time to think about it, though. I’ve got a crisis of my own!
“Ow, crap!” James stumbles through the door to the hall, and right into my arms.
HE IS BLEEDING!
When is he NOT BLEEDING?
“James, what happened?” I grab him, and immediately my hands, and my shirt are smeared in his blood.
But it is not out of his nose, thanks God!
“I was washing these cans from crab meat in the kitchen, and I cut my hand... Owww!!!!”
I grab a piece of napkin, and press it against a rather deep cut on the outer part of his palm. He washes food containers to reuse them. He cares for the planet.
We sit on the bed in silence as I keep my hand pressed against his wound. Let’s hope I can stop bleeding so we do not have to call the Arkabin doctors.
Trapped in my thoughts, I have no choice but to return to the sad, bitter cud I was chewing before James came in.
A rookie mistake.
“So you think your life is over now that you are sixty?”
James is psychic. He can SMELL depressive thoughts.
I truly am cornered. Richard does not allow me to shoot up NES-sp (NON-Existant Substance Self-Pity). And I am not to trigger James into his favorite drug.
But what can I do? While Richard may also be declining, first, he is aging gracefully, and second, basically, that is why he is still in the business. And I am not. Not anymore. Not after I lost almost all of my hair, and got bags under my eyes. No one wants me ever since.
No one, but James.
“What you are telling me, Wallace, is that life ends at 60. Well, let me tell you this. I am no longer a spring sprout myself. I am only 13 clicks behind you.”
I was not telling it TO HIM!
Here comes the avalanche. And I caused it. Richard will watch this and he will hang me.
No more violence, he promised.
So, he will be just very unhappy that I set James off. But what did I do? I was stewing in my own juice when James stumbled in, blood all over his hands and clothing AGAIN!
He walked in on me STEWING. And he can totally smell negative thinking.
“Grace is addictive.” James carries on. “What I see is all of you bitches whining how little Grace you’ve received. The least successful of you had three projects a year for the entirety of your lives!!! And I am 47, with only ten weeks of projects/Grace and a dead boyfriend to tally up. That’s IT! That’s fucking it! You may have been discovered when you were 20, and I WAS NEVER DISCOVERED! I was trapped for the first 20 years of my life, and then I was caged for 20 years after that. What is left? 13 clicks to Old Age. Well, fuck you. No one can hear me screaming inside! And I can’t drink self-pity now. It will sink my karmic record. Then I will never see Henry. In addition to all this crap. Ow...”
I let him go, and the napkin seems to have stopped the blood and is now firmly stuck to his left palm.
“They will make an antidote out of your algorithms.” I remind him meekly. “It will save millions of souls from being tormented by ego-protocols.”
“I will be long dead then, Wallace! What’s in it for ME?!” He suddenly jumps up and pushes me on the bed. “Why was I even born?!!”
James is powerful, and he is desperate. Powerful desperation makes you profoundly miserable.
I know.
So I just lay there, and choke on my tears.
I would give my life for him, but on Level 1 I am on the other side of the world.
“You have your first filming coming up.” I whisper, careful not to burst out crying.
“I should be grateful.” James releases me, and presses the blood-soaked napkin back to the wound. “And I am.”
“Please stay calm. Richard does not like us scratching those painful issues.”
“I know.” James says, and I feel him getting ready to do exactly opposite of what he said: rip the scab off that old wound. “I feel like I have not even lived, Wallace. I have no right to ask for your guys’ fate. I was never in line for the huge amounts of Grace you have received. All I ever wanted to do was sell enough of my books to make a small living. $1000 a month worth, that’s it... A little herd of like-minded fans, that’s it!”
“You will be performing soon.” I say again, and I know I am going to get it.
It was a wrong thing to say. But what is a right thing to say when the man is drowning in impatience?
“It’s just two days, Wallace! And after that, no matter how well I perform, I will not be invited back, because there will be no sequel to this show!”
I sigh, and feel his hand on my shoulder.
“After the filming I will be released back into the ocean of stupid no one gives a damn about. I will be left to my devices again, until 13 clicks later, as per your account, it will be too late.”
“You don’t know that.” I whisper. I just want his pain to go away. I wish I could snap my fingers and save him from emotional self-mutilation with “no one gives a shit about me” thing.
Sheba did this to herself every day.
I do it to myself every day.
I do not want my sweet Jim to do this to himself.
“I am looking forward to the filming with the British, Wallace, and I AM grateful. But nothing can change the fact that in the eyes of the Americans I have not achieved anything in life. I wanted to be a writer, but no one wants to read my books for free. Let alone pay for them. I know you will tell me, that there are millions like me. I do not want to hear it! It does not make me feel better!”
I was not going to tell him that. I KNEW that dumb argument would not make him feel better. It never made ME feel better.
“Well, you wanted to be Prince Phillip.”
“Yeah!” For a second, a sparkle lit up his eyes. “But, many movies will be made about him. It makes his unspeakable suffering WORTH IT. No one will remember ME.”
“Father will make sure they will remember you.”
James nods and lowers his head on my chest. Normally, on the rising moon we both wear two t-shirts, not one. So that your mate has a cushy chest to cry into. In two t-shirts you simply last longer during your mate’s breakdown, for they absorb more tears.
“Why am I even with you guys? It is a shame I torment myself comparing my lousy life with the lives of the Chosen people. I wish I never knew you all...”
“That was very painful, James. On more than one level. If that’s what you were going for. I was discarded from the ranks of “Chosen people” as soon as I grew old.” It is a wrong thing to say. But I found nothing else.
“You spent your entire life in those ranks, Wallace.” Jim’s voice is muffled by my shirt and two t-shirts. “I am not even asking for the most magic things that happened to you. I was never in line for those. I only wish there was someone willing to pay money for my books, so I could justify my addiction to writing... I am not even asking for much money. $12 000 a year, that’s all. Just to make my ENDLESS SUFFERING WORTH IT!”
Then he sobs in my arms for what feels like eternity.
The sun goes down slowly as Jim weeps.
I have good news for James. The suffering is not endless. But it may last a lifetime.
Richard comes through the sliding glass door behind us.
The illusion panels of this bedroom were replaced, for everything was covered in Jim’s blood when the new team arrived.
Not a month later, Richard steps into a pool of Jim’s blood on the floor. That’s when he cut his hand today.
He comes and quietly sits on blood-smeared comforter. That’s when Jim bled out of his nose for a week.
“I am going to call for a cleaning crew.” I say to Richard apologetically. “Mr. Merritt has been sedated again. He is in no shape to clean anything.”
“Shhhh....” Mr. Rockford says, and shows me a thick book with bluish cover titled
“TRIALS OF JAMES KELLSPELL”
By Sheba Of Salem
He is smiling.
“This is going to be a huge bestseller on Andromeda.” Richard adds with a grin.
“Who told you that?” I raise my brows as he hands me the heavy book.
“Uri Kumlatov. He suspended Jim from school, and he exiled Jim’s beloved Henry. Sheiredis are Spartans in their rugged nature, so Kumlatov has no mercy for his young student’s transgressions. However, he also wants to support James. We only have one Prophet. If James does not make it, no one will.”
“So, they WILL write about me....” James says into my shirt.
“They will write about US, Jess.” Rockford corrects as he hugs both me and the weeping precious burden on my chest.
“What did I hear upstairs?” I whisper to Richard.
“While we were busy wanting to know what is in it for US, Lady Anne worked as hard as she could to break herself away from whatever was holding her back, and twelve minutes ago she has achieved 300% karmic purity. The noise you heard was the burdens of egoistic living she has successfully discarded.”
At hearing that Jim in my arms stops crying.
A long minute passes as we sit quietly together, Richard gently patting James on the head for support.
“Good for her. But Lady Anne is not awake enough, or strong enough to open the Pearly Gates.” I finally note.
“True. I am the only one who can do it. And right now I dismally lack karmic credits for it. I am so lost... So confused. I am in love with Henry, and he fills me up fully, leaving no room for other mates!I want him, yet I know I’m not right in ignoring everyone else! I am in no mood to weave a “perfect state of mind” right now. But it would help me greatly if i can just copy her achieved state.” James responds, confidence returning to his voice.
“You will have to drop ANYTHING you ever wanted for yourself.” Richard warns.
“Of course. Now that she did it, I feel that I am not alone in it. I see hope now. The full moon is finally upon us. All of this is good news.” James breaks away from me, and I hand him a napkin to wipe his face.
“Wallace, I hear you creeping up.” James is on the bed, working his bridgeplate.
I come closer, with my head bowed and my heart pounding, and kneel in front of him.
“Owww... You are very cute. You know that your omega behaviour is going to trigger my beta response, and I will take you.”
I nod, burning up inside. There is nothing more that I want. Just to feel him on top of me. But I’m not here for that right now. I was ordered to get him dressed for an assignment.
I take his right foot, pull the sock off and carefully insert his foot into a high-heeled shoe.
“What are you doing there, my sweet one? Oh!” He looks at his foot. “You want me to fuck you while in drag?”
“Mr. Milgram requested you for two hours tonight.”
“Oh! Of course!’ James waves his hand over the green-glowing bridgeplate and it dissipates, splashing deep blue and sparkling purple. “When I’m back, Wallace, I want you naked in this bed.”
Excerpts from what happened next, via Jim’s personal Arkchil channel, of which I am the operator:
(After they had sex. Mr. Milgram is a rough top. But James is resilient, dedicated, and he loves Isaak very much.)
James Kellspell, laying in bed with Isaak Milgram. James is in his female avatar, but his voice is just as low and hoarse: “I brought you two bottles of Red Label and sandwiches.”
Milgram does not respond, laying face down away from James.
James, getting up and throwing away the used condom that Milgram just discarded on the floor. “Isaak? Are you listening to your ego?”
Nothing but dead silence comes from Dr. Michael’s long time friend, only the frown on his face deepens.
Kellspell: Do you realize that “your” ego is but a dumb taperecorder? It’s IQ is 14. It is blind, not connected to reality, and the only reason it can communicate with you at all, is because there is a wire with which you are connected to it as your body lays under the chair... And every time you freak out - you can’t help but send the signal, and the Stupid responds as per its programming. It’s programming is INTENTIONALLY MEANT TO CAUSE AS MUCH PAIN AS POSSIBLE TO YOU AND OTHERS.”
Unshaven and disheveled, Milgram does not respond, but opens his eyes and stares at the window that faces our bedroom. Only Milgram’s apartment is on the second floor. So, if he would stand by the window, he’d be staring “down” on us.
“I know you miss God, but...”
This is where Milgram jumps up, and across the bed, and within a second his hands are around Jim’s throat.
“DO NOT TALK TO ME ABOUT GOD!!!!” He roars in Jim’s face, while choking him.
Jim coughs, but is otherwise limp in Milgram’s angry, deadly grasp.
“It was not... God’s fault with the church boys...” James coughs out. “It was the priests, not God!”
Milgram growls, but loosens his suffocating grip on James.
“You are a homosexual! You probably would go right after those boys!!!” Milgram screams hoarsely and releases his victim.
“Boys would do me no good.” Jim breathes a sigh of relief and fixes his long blond hair, messed up by Milgram’s attack. “I always longed for a meaningful relationship with a wealthy, experienced, and an accomplished man. A ten year old would hardly fit the bill.”
Milgram stumbles through pizza boxes and items of clothing strewn all over his bedroom, finds whiskey in the bags, brought by James, opens one bottle, and drinks like a fish.
“You are a HOMOSEXUAL! All your sinful kind does is think of molesting boys!!!” Milgram spits out drops of amber-bright alcohol, as he yells at James.
“No, Mr. Milgram. You are confusing “pedophiles” and “homosexuals”.” James is taking a few deep breaths here and there, but otherwise he looks calm.
Milgram turns even darker, he wanders back to bed, and fixes James with a threatening stare.
Isaak Milgram is a formidable man, and an excellent fighter. Regardless of which avatar James is in, regardless of 15 years worth of his martial arts training, Milgram could snap James in half in one minute.
But James is not intimidated in the slightest.
“Pedophiles are people who are into children, of both genders. If it is any consolation, I was a victim of pedophiles a couple of times when I was young, and in a female avatar.” Jim continues.
Milgram frowns and drinks straight from the bottle. The dark bedroom is lit up by nothing but the lights that come from the apartments to the left.
“And then there is a scandal at your church. You were probably raised by one or two homophobic parents. You were hearing stuff about homosexuals. Then, in the heat of the scandal, you hated the HOMOSEXUAL PEDOPHILES who did this to them altar boys, and IN YOUR MIND you hold GOD and THE HOMOSEXUALS responsible for those broken little lives.”
Milgram suppresses a growl, and walks to the window.
“While in reality, those priests just happened to be HOMOSEXUAL. Not every homosexual is a pedophile. And not every pedophile is a homosexual. Did you know that? That there are STRAIGHT PEDOPHILES?”
“U-huh, yeah.” Jim nods and rubs his neck, getting over Milgram’s attack.
Milgram does not respond, drinks more from the bottle as the alcohol begins to have effect on his brain and body.
“I am going to kill myself.” Milgram whispers, his head is now hanging low, as if in defeat.
“I love you, Isaak.” James gets off the bed, and starts picking up pizza boxes and bottles. “You are not going anywhere.”
“You can’t stop me.” Milgram, dressed only in a t-shirt, goes to the nightstand, gets a gun, pulls out the magazine, and starts loading it with bullets, strewn about in the drawer. “I am going to do it now.”
Unfazed, James piles up the boxes by the entrance, finds a dried up piece of pizza in one of them, and chews on it while admiring Milgram’s manhood.
“Feel free. Drop that gorgeous body of yours. Medical students do need cadavers to practice on. You will see that it will do absolutely nothing to cure your emotional pain. And while you are focused on mutilating your BODY, I am authorized to use any Articles necessary to retain your SOUL.”
“I did not sign any Covenant with you.” Milgram loads a bullet into the chamber.
“You signed the Covenant with God.”
Milgram turns red, and I can see it even in the twilight of the apartment.
“God annulled it by letting all those boys suffer at the hands of those who were supposed to nourish and protect them!!!”
Milgram is sinister and stone-cold. Then he raises his hand, and shoots into the ceiling with a deafening, soul-piercing sound.
“Yep tvoy mat!!!” James swears in Russian, drops the pizza, and falls to the floor, holding on to his ears.
For a few minutes nothing could be heard, but Jim’s moans. “My ears, Lev! Blyat! Ow!!”
Next second Milgram crosses the room and is holding the gun right in front of Jim’s face.
Still rubbing his left ear, James carefully moves himself around Milgram’s hand with the gun, picks his pizza from the bed sheets, and then takes his position again in front of Milgram’s gun.
They stand like that for a while. Milgram, holding the gun to Jim’s face, and Jim, chewing on the remaining pizza crust.
“You shoot me, and it IS as good as the Covenant. If you kill me, you will become mine forever. As soon as that happens, I am going to send you back, directly to Noomi. You dread that, don’t you? You owe her, and you do not care to pay her back.”
“I OWE HER NOTHING!!!” Milgram roars, as he discharges the gun, this time into the door.
As we switch our attention to the door, we notice that it already has more than one bullet hole in it.
He shot into the door to protect himself from the pesky housekeeping services, I assume. That will learn them.
Now James has the time to cover his sensitive ears.
A couple of minutes later the door opens just a tad.
“Is everything alright there, James?” Dr. Michael’s voice can be heard from behind the door.
“Her name is Krista!” Milgram screams and shoots again through the door. Then he turns to James and sticks the gun under his chin. “I will kill you for being homosexual! I will rid the Earth of the abomination! Hugh? You there, old friend? You will hear this sinner’s dying screams now!”
“I have repented. So you will hear a sermon.” James clears his throat. “Isaak! Get a hold of yourself. I do not need this body to enforce the Covenant on your sore ass. I don’t care what you think about God, but you also signed a Covenant with Noomi! You pull this trigger, and I will send you directly to your wife, and you will start doing your sentence sooner than you think.”
Another long minute passes, with everyone, including Dr. Michael behind the door, being utterly silent.
“Not if I kill myself first.” Milgram hisses into Jim’s ear, with the gun still pressed to Jim’s chin.
“Tell that to Darler.” James responds softly with a faint, but firm smile.
“Technically, he never married Noomi.” I venture, watching Jim apply ice to his chin and neck.
“Technically, that was my gun.” James opens the sliding door, and throws away the melting ice. It sparkles in the dim sun of a cloudy afternoon here on Strobulus. “He threatened to kill me with my own gun.”
“Honestly, i am appalled at what I just witnessed.” I admit, burying my face in my hands.
“You must be new here.” Jim pulls a cigarette out of a pack of red Marlboro, and lights it up.
I gasp as Jim puffs on his cigarette. Then he brings up his bridgeplate and sends a message to Lady Anne (most of the time she is fast-flowing blue color on the bridgeplate).
“My most holy Lady, your services are required in Mr. Milgram’s apartment. I need it cleaned, all pizza boxes and bottles removed and recycled. Please, collect all scattered clothing, and do his laundry. There is a gun in the drawer of the nightstand. Take it. Give it to Tia Demetra to give to Lady Lion. Wait for my further orders.”
“James, are you crazy? He is going to kill her!”
“No, he won’t be able to, even if he is too asleep to see the Truth. Lady Anne has achieved Martyrdom.”
I catch myself struggling through another eternity of silence.
Isaak Milgram’s anger-distorted face ravages my mind, and haunts me relentlessly.
“Maybe you did not need to mention his ex-wife.” I say, and I do not know why I say it. How am I even still here?!
Everything I ever knew was just destroyed, washed away by pure, unbridled, real time violence. I feel like I’m on thin ice, and the dreadful plunge is only a matter of time.
“There is no “ex” wife. There is no “ex” God. There is also no “ex” children. There are people who are so deeply asleep, so poisoned by the voice of the ego, that they no longer know right from wrong, and try to break something that is unbreakable.”
“Maybe he no longer cared about her.” I say, and feel stupid under Jim’s intense stare. But I feel like o need to say it for the sake of History, clarity, and all those who left their spouses because they had had enough.
“How could he not?” James shrugs, but his powerful appearance makes even that simple move affect you greatly. “Noomi was not exactly a one-night stand in his life!”
“I get it, James. But people break up!”
Right? They do, don’t they? He is looking at me like I AM full of it?
“No, they do not, Wallace. “Breakup” is an illusion. Them bitches forgot that this is only a dream, and a test of our love for God. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, you must remember that Father did not cause it. The ego did.”
“Who put the ego there to hurt us, then?”
“I PROGRAMMED the dumb ego! But am fixing my mistake! We are only 4 hrs away from Complete Awakening now. End of pain. The Beginning of the New Life With God. There. We are almost done with this nightmare, where we are forced to face insurmountable odds without Him by our side. There is no “breakup”. You just need to be stronger than “your” ego, that tells you why you need to break up. I love you. Come to me.”
James puts the cigarette butt into the beer bottle on the concrete pad, and closes the distance between us in one second. His face is full of passion and hunger for my body.
“I’m sorry for what you have witnessed. I know I told you to be naked in bed and wait for my return, but instead you heard gunshots and was told to tune in to my Arkchil channel. But if you still want me, I will take you. Please know, Wallace, that your presence makes a huge difference in my life. Your unspeakable suffering in the male body while being a female, has inspired me to carry on and kick it up a notch. After what I have learned about you and Tia Demetra, just to have you both in my life makes my suffering worth it.”
He takes me, and I want nothing more than to absorb every most precious second of pleasure. The secret? In my world Jim comes through as Jess.
And then, right in the middle of making love, my phone rings.
It resounds in my ears even louder than the gunshots, if at all possible.
Why? Because my phone has not rang since I arrived to Strobulus. That would be three months.
Jim stops nailing me only for a second.
I make a motion to pick up.
“Don’t.” James pulls out of me. “It’s Henry. For me.”
Ohhhh...
James is in me: I am filled with the man who loves me for who I am. Paradise.
James is no longer in me: i am empty, old, unwanted. I have to face the cold world alone.
But it is HENRY!!!
“James!” I get up and shake him. “Pick it up! It’s Henry!”
“I can’t.” He suddenly takes on the British accent, and gives me a look of a trapped wild animal. “Not after having ripped Isaak a new one for being unfaithful to his Covenant. The hammer of the judge is actually pretty heavy. Now I have to hit MYSELF with it.”
“Henry loves you more than anything.” I care not to see myself in the buff for another second, so I put on my dressing gown, as I cajole James. “I KNOW him!” I try to speak fast while the phone is still ringing. “He is completely smitten by you. He is calling from the mental institution. He needs your help, James!”
“Henry (Krotkie, Kyle), H.M., Wallace, and my Alpha, my Mr. Rockford. I signed the Covenant with all of you!” Jim responds instead, making no motion for the already irate phone.
“It’s not at 25% each, James. Henry absorbed Krotkie and Kyle. He wants 75%. Please, pick up the phone!!”
“He wants 100%! That leaves you, H. M. and my unparalleled Mr. Rockford out in the cold! I must resist giving Henry 100% of my time! This is NOT what our Covenant says. I must practice what I preach, Wallace!”
“That does it, James! I am going to pick up the phone, whether you let me, or not!”
It is a very bold move for an omega, to disobey your beta this way. But i signed up for Martyrdom. And I was given a very hard role. I am a double agent. That makes me loyal both to James, AND Henry. So, I pick up the phone.
“Lord Carlton! Lord Carlton?” I say into the phone, hoping to hear his, obviously enraged, voice, for the reason that we let the phone go on for so long.
This is when it stops ringing.
“I am not going to let Henry invade 100% of me!” James looks for his cigarettes, finds them, and starts smoking right in the bedroom. “It is against The Covenant! It affects the balance of the team. I already lost Sheba to this kind of thinking!”
“Maybe Henry is good for “your” ego!” I snap with my eyes down, hating myself for arguing with my dear James.
“THERE IS NO ROOM for “my” ego here, Wallace!!”
If we could only keep it that way.
Without listening to that dumb ego-machine all the time.
Evening creeps in, James goes to Level 1 to take care of H.M., and they get into a meaningless fight over stuff H.M. said, and James just could not let it go.
H.M. storms out, leaving James swimming in the pool alone. Seen only by James, Richard descends into the pool, and helps our sobbing mate out.
“I am going to tell Prince Moretr, that I have not tasted life! I only tasted my own tears... I have nothing, but this situation... Then we make up, go to the grocery store, and then some more time passes IN MY CAGE, until the next time he beats me up, mistreats me, because he listens to “his” ego that tells him that “the bitch deserves it”! While all of you actually had a fucking life! You ALL, ALWAYS had a project to look forward to! What do I have to look forward to?”
This is where they are met by Lady Anne, who hands James the towel, and asks him to please not attack Prince Moretr, who is already doing everything he can to alleviate all of our suffering.
Richard takes both shaking James and lamenting Lady Anne to Jim and H.M.’s bedroom (Level 1, Malachite Constellation). He puts James in bed and holds his hand, while Lady Anne tells James all about leaving behind the burdens of the ego.
“Whatever you ask for yourself, it will not make you happy.” She walks there and back slowly, large tears falling down. “Wake up, please. Nothing in this dream will make you happy. Only God.”
Her tears on the floor, partially smeared by her long dragging gown, soon look like a bird got out of the water and shook itself out.
Mine usually look like a large dog got out of the water, and shook itself out.
Once I sat alone in the bedroom, and cried, and James came over, and took a photograph of my tears on the floor.
“I get it, my holy Lady! I know you have renounced everything that can possibly hold you to this plane, and ESPECIALLY publicity.” James sighs, cries, as Richard hands him a napkin to blow his nose. “But I feel like a muggle. I do not know how to explain it without you blaming me for “holding on to “my” ego”. But I feel that some of my skills were never used. I was born with the wings, BUT I NEVER FLEW!”
Lady Anne nods, light on her feet, almost airborne. “Impatience. Can’t wait to blame God for your failure.” She sheds more tears, and shudders against the wall like a pinned butterfly.
James does not like what she says for a second. But he brings up his bridgeplate, and takes a picture of Lady Anne, and her tears. For further analysis, as he explained later.
“I wish I could MAKE A MOVIE about this.” He says.
I wish I was as talented as James.
Look, what he invented. I hit the olive-green cloud on my Operator bridgeplate (one of the few functions that I know), the poem-weaving app comes up, and a poem appears on the face of the bridgeplate in a small dark-purple cloud:
A photograph of tears on the floor...
Jim, should we laugh, or should we cry some more?
“Each of you wants stuff for yourselves. Only to hand it to “your” ego, and see if THIS will make you happy INSTEAD of being with God.” A phone rings in Lady Anne’s long floating garment. “This is Lady Lion. I must go. Good day, gentlemen. Clean up.”
“She is going to read me lectures.” James, still held by Richard, stares at the photo he took on his bridgeplate: “What is this, Lady Anne? A garment made of jellyfish? I thought devil wears “Prada”?!
“James!!!” Richard raises his voice, as I’m torn between bursting out at his sharp, unexpected comeback, and reaching out to place my hand on Jim’s incredibly overactive mouth.
“What’s up her ass?” James shrugs. “Abandon every connection to this plane.” Easy for her to say. She did taste the Grace. I’m just not ready to hang it up yet. Wallace? Why are you coughing and limping behind my back?”
One of Jim’s rules is to turn your own pain into other people’s laugh.
Not an easy rule to follow.
Let me try. Hit this green cloud. Here we go. An appropriate answer, as I’m choking back tears.
“I cough, i limp, I cannot see.
Welcome to U-G-E-C!”
“What?!”
Both Richard and James say that at the same time. You should see their faces! Let’s make our suffering worthwhile, shall we?
“Wallace? Are you playing with my poem-weaving algorithm?” James can’t believe that I learned how to control it.
When Sheba ran this bridgeplate, she hated the annoying program, for it would pop up all by itself in the most of inappropriate moments.
The difference? Now I TURN IT ON in the most of inappropriate moments.
“UGEC?” Mr. Rockford repeats, looking both shocked and confused.
“United Geriatric Effort Convention.” I respond, and laugh through my cough.
That cracks them both up.
“We should have come earlier, then?” Now calm and composed, Richard turns to me.
“I was not ready EARLIER.” James interjects in a defeated tone of voice.
“Let’s blame the kid.” I wink to Richard.
Dr. Michael descends from the spiral staircase.
“What’s for dinner, old men?”
“Have you been eavesdropping?” I ask, leading him on.
“Let’s skip that one, Gendalf.” Smiling Dr. Michael is much too smart to be caught this easily. “Matushka and I have made a meal for us all. “Fifty bucks to the one who can drag Isaak out. Or entice him to come out. Or blow him out of the water. Or whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do it for thirty!” James says, and takes on his lovely female avatar within seconds. “Lemme drop by his man cave... My favorite blouse... and some chewing gum to fill the bullet holes in the door.”
“Great! Everyone else, change if you need, and welcome upstairs!”
“What are we going to have?” Richard steps out of Jim’s bedroom on Level 1, and we all ascend up the spiral staircase.
I am so hungry. But I totally forgot about it with all this.
“Kimchi and rye bread.”
He’s been working on being mysterious, our Dr. Michael.
“The discovery that I made during my experiments is this: when the machine projects disturbing images for the Oculum to pick up (my goal was to torment MYSELF (I am the Oculum))
IT HAS NO IDEA WHAT IT IS TRANSMITTING.
I have determined that the machine is a tape recorder type of device with an IQ of 14.
In other words all I need to do to defeat FEAR is to get up and ignore the dumb taperecorder and everything it is trying to attract my attention to.
It says/shows me stupid shit to make me feel uncomfortable/scared?
IT HAS NO IDEA WHAT IT IS DOING.
Therefore, all I need to do is not react, ignore the fucker, and ONLY AND EVER DIRECT MY OCULUM TOWARDS FATHER!”
James, in one of his lectures. I wanted to run comments on it, but it is too late now. It’s almost 9 pm.
We tied the knot yesterday. On Jim’s birthday. Now Mr. Rockford, James and I are an item FOREVER. Covenant cannot be undone. And it is good.
There will be Alpha, Beta, and omega. In our case, three omegas.
Mr. Rockford was facing a problem with James. He wanted James in his female avatar, but with a new face. The new face needed a name. And they could not use “Marishka”.
James said to Mr. Rockford: My venerated Alpha, this will blow your cover.”
Rockford thought of it, and he solved it brilliantly, to my opinion. He gave James a new name. But he did not change very much, trying not to traumatize him.
“Wallace, this is not important. Quit editorializing. Quit dragging your feet. Go for what is most important. Talking about a “geriatric moment”!” Mr. Rockford, watching an Andromedan TV show via Jim’s bridgeplate, as Jim is sleeping on the bed with his head on Mr. Rockford’s lap.
“You have just offended all the elderly people in the world in my face.” I respond with a sigh.
“I am only a year behind you.” Rockford plays with a TV remote control, directing it to the bridgeplate-projected screen. The images get rewound and fast forwarded, as if he is looking for some scene.
Huge progress, this contraption. There are no TV sets here. No one was allowed to watch TV since Mr. Rubinstein homesteaded this compound five years ago.
Sheba complained to me of the long days and nights she would have to be alone, with no phone, no TV, no one teaching her how to use the bridgeplate, and James constantly chasing Henry with a massive hardon, paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else.
If it is any consolation, we are not watching Earth TV.
Right now we are watching “Cute Estelians Doing Science Projects”. It is Moretr (Eridani) Industries show.
James fell asleep, for he lived there, he saw it all before.
These shows we are watching are not the actual TV, but the recordings in Jim’s collection on the bridgeplate.
Which makes his bridgeplate work as a VCR. My best shot at comparison. Sorry, I am of older generation.
Jim does not like entertainment shows. He is more of a documentary kind of guy. His favorite is “My Gentle Prince”, the legend of Bruno Libra. He can talk about that one endlessly.
“My Gentle Prince” is a series based on true events. The artful, brutal, but also acutely romantic story of Sardonyx Eridani’s longtime love for Bruno Libra, a wildly famous peacemaker, Empress’ Gina Yasmin’s Arkabin son.
Yes, but is it “important”?
Mr. Rockford wants me to go “for the most important”, and I still do not know what it is.
My head feels like an unsolved puzzle of thousands of pieces, chopped and mixed together. A soup of everything I ever knew, and experienced. Sometimes more pain, sometimes more confusion, but the soup never clears up, and very little ever gathers into any meaningful picture.
It’s been seven chapters of pieces since I took over from Sheba. I know it in my heart. This is what my narration feels like.
He should have fired me. James should have fired me as his Arkchil Operator. I feel so miserable. So unfit.
“Wallace!”
Mr. Rockford hates it when I give in to the NES-drug of self-pity.
How can Mr. Rockford watch TV AND read everything I’m writing off the “left screen”, to which he projected my writing?
“Yes, Mr. Rockford?”
“Will you please stop calling me “Mr. Rockford”? How long have we known each other? How much have we done together? Still you avoid calling me by my first name. And remember to go for the most important.”
“Yes, Mr. Rockf... Richard.”
James wakes up with a start.
“SHEEP CATS!!!” He screams out hoarsely and falls off the bed, right at his Alpha’s feet.
“Shhh, Jess. I’m watching the show. Your translation of it is perfect! If one has a degree in chemistry. So, what are these kids playing with? What is “Roman Vitriol”?”
Here it is. Mr. Rockford’s elegant solution to the face without a name.
Jess.
James.
Jess.
A subtle transition that only plays with the cards dealt. JamES. JESS.
“Oh!” James sits on the floor with his eyes wide open. “I dreamt of herding a whole bunch of hairy, stinky sheep for you!”
“There is money in that.” Mr. Rockford... I mean, Richard responds. “So you dreamt of being my sheep dog?”
“No, see...” Jim rubs his face with a fist of his hand, then licks his fist, and rubs his eyes again. “I was a sheep cat. A large sheep herding CAT. Copper sulfate. Roman vitriol is copper sulfate.”
“There are no “sheep cats” in Australia.” I interject.
“But why not?” Jim immediately throws himself into the argument. “Cats are just as fast as dogs. How hard can this be? We are just as smart, and we can definitely handle some stupid sheep! And in my dream I had perfect understanding with my Shepherd. So, why can’t I do a dog’s job?”
Really, who am I to say Jim can’t do a dog’s job?
Question is, why would you want to?
But James never lets that question torment him. Since Wolf Hafnian asked for half of Jim’s IQ ring back, Jim was only too happy to give up most of responsibilities that involved thinking, and rely solely on his Alpha to make all the decisions.
“Then you will be the very first sheep cat.” Richard agrees most readily.
Why not, indeed?
“Thank you!” James rubs his cheeks on Richard’s knee and then rolls on the floor, licking his fists.
Prince Moretr had to address Jim’s progressing DeVo. So he used it as a “confidence platform” in Jim’s reprogramming.
Jim feels most confident when he addresses the world from a cat’s perspective. I say, whatever works.
We ALL are DeVo’ing. Some faster than others. This process will be easier to reverse the closer we get to the Pearly Gates.
But for now anything goes. If animal side is your strong side, be not ashamed. You are not alone. Just take The First Rule as your vow (“No one should get hurt”), and use your primal skills to serve your family and community at large.
And I told him
“Listen, Count,
I will give you big discount.”
“James, what is this? Do you remember us talking about respect? How is this respectful towards Mr. Rockford?”
“She is a poet at heart
I’ll just fuck her real hard!” Richard sang quietly, as if to himself behind my back. “Go ahead, Wallace, read your line.”
My line?! What “line”? I felt a crumpled piece of paper in my hand. How did it get there? I pulled the paper apart, and read aloud, somewhat shaken:
“What if she turns down your love?”
“Then I’ll wear her like a glove.” Rockford responded readily.
I stood there, aghast.
“Mr. Rockford, forgive me, but where is your propriety?!”
“Where was Carlton’s propriety, Wallace? And she loved the unhinged man!” Mr. Rockford pointed in Jim’s direction.
Richard Rockford:
“I need a mate, that’s easy to control.
I snap my fingers, and they roll!”
James Kellspell:
“And here I run, as my heart screams:
You are the Alpha of my dreams!”
“Samantha! You have a hairy chest! And hairy balls!” James brings his face to mine and smiles like a cat about to devour a sparrow.
I lower my eyes, because I never came out to anyone, and he calls me “Samantha”.
Samantha... A woman with a hairy chest and balls.
And I’m his omega, too.
The Omega Nation’s flag is the flag of peace. It means that I am not allowed to resist or contradict no matter what.
But I can get back at him in peaceful ways.
“You know, every movie you ever watched was not a “documentary about people’s lives”. Most of it was fiction, played out by actors.”
“PLAYED by actors?! Oh, no!” James brings his hands to his face in horror. “Are you telling me Yoda was played by an actor?! Well, was that actor, at least, native to Tatooin?! Was he at least, politically, on the side of the Rebels?”
And did that actor have green skin and big ears?
Yes, he did!
Did he really like Luke, or did he ACT like he liked him?
No, he really liked Luke. Yoda and Luke were the best buddies. I saw them drink together off the set.
I can do this to James all day.
And so it goes.
“My mates, I have gathered you here to tell you, that we are heading into hell. I will be out of blue ksill in one week.” James is standing in his bedroom, in which he has been for a month now, since he was suspended from school thanks to Mr. August’s complaint.
But then Jim did break into his house for the purposes of voyerism.
Which was Sheba’s last straw. She was through with a “Two Clicks Away From A Sexual Offender”.
Which ushered in: me and Richard Rockford.
“I have already bought tons of cigarettes and wine. Basically I’m planning to stay trashed for almost two months until this assignment is over and it is our time to come back to Genesis 17.”
“How can we help?” I ask a rightful question, while Mr. Rockford is on his phone, texting.
Huge progress from last year. Sheba told me that when she arrived, Hafnian did not have a phone, James was not even talking to Earth, and she could only use her phone for the purpose of chasing flies away from schnitzel if she chose to eat outside.
“What you can help me with, is temporarily loosen restrictions.”
I see James frowning with Dr. Michael’s spiral staircase on the background. The staircase is wrought iron, but nice and light-looking, color white.
Any other person would become upset at the fact that one of their bedroom walls was replaced with a staircase. But not James. As long as that staircase leads to Dr. Michael’s apartment. He trusts his Dr. Michael, he never questions the man’s actions, and he welcomes him at any time.
“Help is coming, James.” Rockford said without lifting his eyes from his phone.
“I want to believe so, my Alpha. But I also must prepare for the worst.
And frankly, looking into my immediate future, I’m terrified, you guys. I have not been off it in five years. I was afraid to go to Europe, because I would be for a week without it. Now I am going to be two months without it.” James took a jagged breath.
“They are working to speed up the solutions, James.”’I say and place my hand on his shoulder.
“All I’m asking is for H.M. to stop telling me what to do with my makeup.” James nods and gives me a thin, tormented smile to acknowledge my support. “In the face of what is going to happen, you all will have to hold me at the same time to prevent me from going after H.M. I KNOW he has improved dramatically over the last 20 years, but he still has a “D-“ in the compassion dept.
I am going to need a lot of it very soon. And he has none for me. I don’t know if he even has any for himself.
I am totally fine with that when I keep my emotional pain under control.
After I run out of blue ksill, I will no longer be able to be his perfect slave.
I am begging both of you to understand me in advance. I am going into withdrawal. I am scared of it!!! Today I went into H. M.’s safe and looked at the emergency bags, and they are very small. Literally, even if I took EVERYTHING he has, it would only extend my safety net by a couple of weeks (but not the entire two months), at the high cost of exposing my addiction.
Of course, H.M. has no intention to learn how to heal my wounds and not cause me more. All he wants to do is stop me from using drugs. But never care as to WHY. However, this is an academic conversation for another day.
I am getting hysterical just thinking that I will have to face the man without the painkiller. I will be so very drunk all the time. And alcohol is a downer. We are heading into everyday scandals we had for a “normal life” when I was NOT on drugs. In other words, I am fucked.”
James sat on the bed by my side and sighed.
“This time, when this little girl comes to me crying, I will have no choice but to start crying with her. For this time the bitch will bring bad news I will not be able to dismiss.”
I hold my James, as Rockford’s fingers run fast across the screen of his phone. He seems to be paying no attention to his distressed beta.
Comes in Kyle Merritt with tea for everyone. After Henry was taken, Kyle collapsed, and had to be kept tranquilized for over three weeks.
Here he is, still unsure on his feet, but ready to carry his weight. He works hard for the tokens to talk to his mother in the Grey Building.
James gives him the tokens and never asks for anything back, but Kyle feels deeply indebted to James for letting him come back after a breakup that lasted for 30 years. And then paying for Kyle’s mother’s upgraded upkeep in the Grey Building.
“I have no idea what I’m going to do!!!” James finally breaks down. “I am so scared, so scared, I can’t think about anything else, but...”
“The indecent way you were treated by the British?” I suggest, just to take his mind from circling down the dark maelstrom.
“Fuck the British. Whichever way they treat me, that was all volunteering anyway. And it will not change the fact that I am facing two dry months.
I will emerge a wreck after this, Wallace! I am being forced to quit cold turkey, while I did EVERYTHING I POSSIBLY COULD TO PREVENT THIS KIND OF SCENARIO!
Yet, every precaution I took had failed!!! Two years ago, WHEN I SAW THIS COMING, I asked for a backup should my main supplier fail.
BUT, M. never gave me D.’s phone number.
Then,i tries to back myself up by leaving some stock over winter (2 months’ worth). Guess what, it was stolen while I was on Genesis 17!
Fast forward three weeks ago, when I knew I was running low, and with no extra stock to rely on! I placed the order with my regular dealer.
Guess what?! You could not make this up! The order I placed was delivered TO THE WRONG HANDS.
I said fine - get me more.
Guess what? The Stupid failed to get me more, and still she would not give me the other supplier’s phone number.
When she arrives on Wednesday, I will have no other choice but to offer her $300 for D.’s phone number. Because this bitch stands between me and normal life.
I must do something myself now. I feel that the regular channels have failed me.
And very soon I will be hung out to dry. I can’t last for an hour without it. Now I am facing two months without it.
The point is, Wallace, I am psychotic. I can’t guarantee ANY good behaviour anymore. All of my good behaviour is fueled by the fact that I am protected from pain. Take away my painkiller, and I will be berserk all over again. I do not want to be berserk, but the situation leaves me no choice.”
He howled rather loud between sobs.
Dr. Michael’s apartment remained unmoved and silent, for Dr. Michael was currently texting there and back with Mr. Rockford.
Lord Sedgefield’s apartment was empty. He and Ian left a week before Henry was found legally insane and taken off the set.
Mr. Milgram was inside of his, but he would usually drink there alone with his door locked. He would order Red Label, pizzas and James in female avatar about once a week.
Henry’s Royal Chamber was now occupied only by deeply grieving Mr. Merritt.
“I am so frustrated to be facing this, Wallace!!! Once I am exposed to raw pain ksill protects me from, plus being completely alone, and nursing an asshole who lets “his” ego treat me like shit, I AM going to take it out on him. I am also going to take it out on the British, in the ways they will never be able to trace back to me.
I hate doing this. But I feel that I have no choice but to “distribute the impact”. The fact that my stock was stolen from me 2 years ago? I am going to make the British feel it today. This crap will come full circle, if I can help it.
As always, if I am going down, everyone is going down. I guarantee, that every single one of you will feel my pain. I will make sure you do.
When this piece of shit was beating the crap out of me, I promised to myself that I will make others feel it. For no one will be protected from my pain. It is that simple. It is going to help every single one of you to pray for me, and seek ways to help me faster. No one will rest until my supply is restored.”
“James, shhh....” i held him, until Rockford pulled a box out of his pocket, and gave James a pill.
“Thank you.” He looked his Alpha in the eyes, and they both were motionless for a few moments, penetrating each other, studying each other from within.
Ten minutes later we put unconscious Jim to bed.
Ladies and gentlemen, for your attention, here are the blood-soaked chronicles.
“The Trials Of James Kellspell” Part IV.
Fresh out of the oven of hot feelings, today’s convo between Tia Demetra;and James:
“It is not about money per se. It is about saving my relationship. And right now it is simply about not losing my honor to “my” dumb ego when the pain comes in.” James took a few deep breaths, and searched his bridgeplate for “Earth calendar”, then “My Calendar” to see what date was it today. Not going to school anymore, he lost the track of time. “All I’m asking is, please help me get through the next two months with dignity. You are the only one I can address this to.”
What date was it today? Today was Merion’s birthday. That meant, in nine days James was to turn forty seven.
But his thoughts were far from that now. The only reason he pulled up the calendar, was to see how many days total he was apart from Lord Carlton. The calendar was showing 39 days since Henry’s departure from the Emerald Filament filming set.
“What can I do for you?” Tia Demetra lit up a cigarette.
We do not necessarily all smoke, but we found that James relaxes with you more if you smoke in front of him.
“I can tell anyone, just about, that they do not know Jack Schitt. But you, Tia Demetra, you knew a whole herd of them. So, please listen...”
“I’m listening.” Tia Demetra got up, found Jim’s flat aluminum ash-tray, put it on nightstand on what used to be Sheba’s side of the bed, sat down, and glanced at James only once, before she lowered her eyes omega-style with a slight smile stretching her rather thin lips.
A perfect stance with the frustrated James if you are not an Alpha, or an omega plotting to dominate him (ahem, like Henry).
Just listen. Right.
“I do not want lectures on propriety and sobriety right now. I need you to help me in the way that no one else can.”
“Please state your request.” Tia Demetra nods.
“See, I am in love with this British aristocrat. He has nothing to do with my other British engagement on Level 1. Great Britain is a big country and I have more than one engagement there. Just for clarity’s sake. Anyway. My British boyfriend tells me, that he will be mine, if I bring him money.” James swallowed hard, but his eyes remained glazed over in this classic blissful look that they portray in cartoons as pink hearts coming out of a character’s eyes. “He wants minimum ten million dollars on Level 1.”
“Sounds like you are in love with a whore.” Tia Demetra said very thoughtfully.
“Yes!” James dismissed it readily. “But I want him. I just need money.”
“I am not a bank.”
“I understand that.” James drops to his knees and grabs Tia Demetra’s hand.
Demetra remains seated with her back straight, and a light pleasant smile still stretching her thin, slightly quivering lips. She reminds me of the English Queen in her young, hardest years.
“Your mistress pays well. But she only needs the best. All I’m asking is - teach me how to be the best for your mistress.” Jim’s pleading hoarse whisper could raise the dead, but not a single muscle moved on Demetra’s slightly unshaven face.
“She needs the most loyal, honest and hardworking men. Do that, and she will be pleased.”
Excellent, highly logical comeback. What is James going to do now?
“Yes, easy enough. But in one week I am going to run out of my drug, and I am facing a forced withdrawal. You are the only one who can tell me how to do it without sinking my karmic credit to depths unknown. Clearly, high karmic credit is a must with Lady Lion. In other words, I must keep mine very clean to make the most money with Lady Lion, so I could bring the most money to my... ehrm... to my Royal lover...”
“Surely, a complicated scheme. But who am I to judge? Why would you think I am the one to help you with all that?” Tia Demetra is very good at dragging it out while cameras roll. If you can last eleven more minutes, you might not have to answer the question.
Be rest assured, James is onto that. He is inhaling Tia Demetra’s wisdom like it was holy incense.
“I will tell you why.” James got up, and hung over Demetra, almost in a threatening way. A classic beta move to dominate/herd the omega into cooperation. Even if this is YOUR EMPLOYER’S omega. “Hot off the grid, you were thrown into jail, and you went through forced withdrawal without any alcohol or cigarettes that will be available to me to soften the fall. For eight months. Your grace is made of crystal, but it is the most reliable stronghold in the world.
I only need two. Teach me how to get through two months of withdrawal without taking it out on my loved ones. If I can do that, I will be the best for your Lady Lion, therefore, for my Royal mate.
“All the magic powers that you think I have are in my closet.”
“Then I am asking you to let me into your closet.” James was starting a third cigarette, as he stepped away from Tia Demetra, and now was pacing around the bedroom, engulfed in cigarette smoke like a deranged ghost. “This is all I’m asking.”
“You are asking for a lot of things.”
Tia Demetra responded slowly, quietly, looking at her manly, hairy, veiny hands.
“I am only asking for my mate back.”
“Currently your mate is being held in the maximum security mental facility, heavily medicated.”
“Yes, but when he gets out, he is going to want to know what was I DOING to help pull us back together. And right when I need it the most, my chemical platform slides from under me. Please, teach me your wisdom, so I could get through this and have my Henry back.”
This is where CHRISTOPHER came in through the door that lead into the kitchen, which is now part of our bedroom. He whispered something into Jim’s ear, and Jim went limp.
Christopher barely had time to catch him, as Tia Demetra remained unmoved in every sense.
“What is going on?” I asked as I ran up to them from the bedroom.
“We found Darler.” Christopher shared with me.
“Wallace, I want you. Will you take me?”
“I would!” I say with a heavy heart. “But with a body like this, James, all I want to do is turn my back and cover my face.”
“That works-s-s!” He hisses, takes off my dressing gown, and turns me around.
Twenty minutes later we are both in his bed, Jim with a happy smile, and me, deeply satisfied, yet, going back in my memory to the places that have nothing to do with today, looking into faces of people long gone.
Why? Because I am afraid to look at Jim and find out that, disgusted by the body of an old man, he is no longer there.
I want my dream to last.
But he is still here!
Unaware of my internal turmoil, Jim goes for his cigarettes, and I can’t help but admire his incredibly lean, fit physique. He was a martial artist for over a decade.
His phone, laying on Hafnian’s blanket, rings. He stares at it in disbelief.
He, then, picks it up somewhat uncomfortably, with an outstretched hand.
“Ehm... Who is this?” He says, then he listens, and drops to his knees. “Henry! Are you calling from Level 1? HOW?! Do the doctors allow you to have a phone? You stole it?! Ohh... Yes, I know, Darler was located!!! Is THAT WHY you are risking your head and breaking all rules CALLING ME from a maximum security facility?!”
There is an awkward silence, during which James is trying to process the situation. Then Henry hisses in his regular habit, and Jim’s face changes to a soothing smile.
“Of course I will tell you everything.... it only took me 35 years to find my Darler.... Oh, I’m sorry, Henry! He is not “my” Darler. YOU are MY Henry!”
Henry’s suppressed tension is so that the sensitive Level 2 environment heats up around James and suddenly you feel Lord Carlton’s anger with your skin. I have experienced that with Henry so many times before. Moments like this make you melt back into the fabric of the Universe in a deeply pleasurable sense of unity.
James feels the irresistible pull, promising a lot of deep, sweet involvement, so he remains perky and acutely interested in the conversation.
“Yeah, so Christopher told me that Lady Lion got the message from Patricia... What am I going to do now that I know where he is? I can’t do anything. Darler is apparently being held without bail for violating three Covenants, and these are just the official ones.”
Henry says something I can’t hear, but James responds readily.
“I could. But since that I already found out that his “creditors” do not want me to interfere. They want him locked up for now. He hurt them all. A lot. His daughter told that to me many, many times. I was none the wiser what she really meant then! I got into it without knowing the depth of it. U-huh.... A rookie mistake.”
Henry hisses something quietly. It is obvious he has to conceal his conversation.
“I know why you are asking.” Jim’s voice was calming. “You are afraid I will buy him out and bring him here. And he will take your place in my heart... and in my bed.”
“There is nothing I can do legally to stop it, for he precedes Hafnian...” Henry’s voice broke through loud enough for me to hear. “But If you decide to leave me for Darler, James, I will not let Kyle rest until he finds a legal loop, in which I will strangle you both.”
“He is not coming here, Henry. He can’t.” Jim’s soothing voice fell to a whisper. “I have trust in you. I know you love me enough to kill me. This is what keeps me going, your unconditional, eternal love.”
“Cut the rubbish, will you? Kyle is telling me, James,” Henry interrupted him rather sharply. “...all that needs to be done to contest the person in question is to enter an objection to the process. It can be entered only by someone who precedes the person in question. Leonard Rubinstein happens to precede your little escapade with Darler! I will hang you so high, James!!!”
James, however, did not lose a beat in the face of a barrage of threats.
“Henry, my love, I know I have given you very little reason to trust me. I know I did not protect you from your enemies, and I let them take you from me, but I am still your property at 75% as long as you bend your knee to Lady Lion. FYI, rest easy: just ONE broken Covenant will net you a lifetime of serving your victim/creditor.”
Lord Carlton hisses something I can’t hear, as the sun goes down below the sentient pines.
“Darler broke three of them, Henry! You do not need to invoke any other Article. I only broke ONE PARAGRAPH, and now the Michael family owns me at 25%. His ass is crucified, I am telling you. And the Eastwick Witches... I mean, his three wives totally mean it. Technically, #2 could not care less, and #3 is undecided, moving more towards peace than war, but Patricia is leading the attack.”
“I want to see her to be more serious than you about retaining Darler, and...” Henry’s voice broke up, and James submerged the phone into his bridgeplate to strengthen the connection.
“You will smell color purple now, for I just dipped the phone into the clouding bridgeplate... Henry, listen. Patricia is serious. She obtained a restraining order against me to keep me away from where he is being held. And get this, she obtained it EIGHT YEARS BEFORE I was born. Talking about wanting something! This is how much she wants my ass out of her family. Darler is going to have to serve her until she is satisfied. That’s minimum another lifetime on a short leash. THEN we can talk about him moving in with us.”
I looked above Jim’s head, and Dr. Michael’s apartment was now lit up.
“Yes, Henry, Patricia is very upset, she made sure she stayed pissed throughout, and the Law is on her side. She said no one is approaching him until she is done with him. As much as I love to protect my cronies-homies, this one is going back to New Orleans.” Jim belched and took a pull on his cigarette. “Talking about invoking Articles! Patricia showed me a long list of Articles she will shove up my sore Russian ass if only I as much as twitch towards Darler.”
Then, the empty apartment in the middle, the one previously occupied by Lord Sedgefield and his lovely husband, also had lights and action in there. Who was moving into Jim’s URET? Only very few had the right.
“So, do not freak out, and do not hold your breath. I’ve got you covered. I’ve got money and good news for you when you get out. Call me again ONLY if it is safe, ok? I will say goodbye now. I do not want to expose you any longer than I must. Remember: all I need to do with Darler is NOTHING. If I even as much as lift my pinkie in his support, good old Patricia will slap me with sanctions that will put Russian scandal with Ukraine to shame. She’s got a lean on his ass, get it?”
“She has “a lean”? What does it mean?” Henry growls through impromptu lyrics, wanting more confirmations of Jim’s loyalty.
“That means you will have me at my full legal capacity for the next 200 episodes, I hope. You can thank Patricia. I love you. The Oaths Of Northern Alliance Are Holy. You are my First Crowned Omega, Henry. I miss you deeply. Your Wallace is my solace. My Second Teacher is quiet and compassionate. Thank you for him. Stay safe and invisible. Daddy loves his Henry... On my knees, kissing your lovely Royal hands!”
“Every action comes from a statement that you repeat to yourself as you conduct the action.
If the statement on which the action is based is corroded by the ego-protocol, then you are engaging in the wrong action.
Now, all we need to see, is which ego-protocol has corroded which of your statements.
For It is important to repeat the CORRECT (Original Source oriented) statement, as you psych yourself up for an action.”
James, on “How Reverse/Shrink Your Escaping Proximity”
“That was crazy. Henry’s phone call from Level 1 yesterday was crazy!” Jim is on the bed, holding his head high, with napkins sticking out of his right nostril, dried blood all over his lips and chin. “Darler was found!!”
He can’t stop talking about Henry’s call. He is talking about it, while nursing his bleeding nose again.
“Darler and I go way back, Wallace. Yes, see, the year is 1974. I woke up in my room in the Grey Building, right? And the first thing I SENSE is a cartridge the color of “go fuck yourself” on my table.” He tries to laugh, and blood bubbles out of his nose.
“James, for the love of God!” I rush to him with yet another napkin.
He’s been getting bloody nose at least once a day for a week now. I feel like Sheba: is he sick? Am I the only one who sees and cares? Or, is he just THAT psychotic?
Or is he missing Henry this much?
I do not blame James, then. Sheba would. But I KNOW Henry. Once he unleashes his true self upon you, you will want no other. Especially if you are an omega like Wolf Hafnian. Or me. Or a loose beta like James, who was given drugs, and then they let him smell Henry’s underwear, or whatever Sheba thinks they did to him to make him fall for Henry so hard.
“And so... FIVE YEARS later I meet Darler! For six years we are inseparable.... But every time I look at the cartridge, the message reveals itself. And it repeats itself. It repeats itself. Then - boom! Darler’s body is found in the lake. And I lost it. While the message kept on. For forty six hours the message has been repeating itself with a phone number at the end. On the forty seventh’ hour, I mean, four days to my 47 th birthday, I FINALLY GET IT!!!”
“Ok.” I run my hand soothingly along his thin, long hair. I am attached, addicted to his female avatar, but James does not know it. Yet, I bring it up secretly over and over. Every time he thinks I touch short black Andrew’s hair, I am touching the long, thin strands of his hated female avatar.
I feel guilty, but I can’t help myself.
“And last night I finally dialed the number in that message, Wallace!”
“And?” I prompt.
“And on the other side this low female voice says: “What about “stay the fuck away from my family” did you not understand?!” And she hung up on me!” James tries his damnest not to laugh.
“Why did she give you her phone number, then?”
I ask and know in my heart,
Jim makes me laugh no matter what.
He is screwed up in the head, my beta, but still terribly funny. Maybe that is why he is funny. Because he was radicalized at a very tender age by this left-leaning gentleman he ran for six years with. While his wife’s message played on Jim’s table.
“I think she wanted to reiterate the message in person, for ultimate impact. Her husband was a Hollywood-trained producer, after all. Ahem. Apparently he taught her a thing or two in the short six years of their marriage from hell.”
Now we both laugh. Dr. Michael comes down asking what we were planning for dinner.
“I am having this sinner for dinner.” James points to me, and we burst out again.
“I don’t care if you have him for breakfast tomorrow, too, but today is your turn to pay! And Matushka wants to see you tomorrow at 3 pm for her weekly massage! Behave now!” Dr. Michael shakes his finger at James and ascends back into his most spacious apartment with a jacuzzi and a balcony view for Matushka.
Happy to please, James spared no expense for illusion panels to create a small paradise for the Michael family.
“At the end of the day, Wallace, Patricia is an Alpha who made me respect her. And I’m cool with that. Because Henry loves me!” James says through the napkins, his lips barely moving under the weight of crusted blood. Every attempt to clean up his face resulted in more bleeding, so I had to just let him be.
Now that we laughed so hard, I am watching his nose for the signs of more bleeding. And there are.
Ok, time to tell him.
“You’ve been bleeding for five hours, James. You need to stop raving about Henry and let me call Prince Moretr!”
“Not the entire five hours!” James holds on to his nose in a defensive gesture. He does not want to call anyone. “And Prince Moretr already knows, Wallace. There is no point doing anything right now. It is Friday night. If I make it through the weekend, then I promise to call a primary care physician on Level 1, ok? Other than that Father is taking care of us.”
I have been by his side all day. He’s been in bed most of the day. It is happening again.
Only this time James is no longer in panic mode.
“In the last 14 months I have known love, Wallace. If I am to die today, I will not die unloved. So every time this girl comes crying with bad news, I keep sending her to God, to learn how to always come with GOOD NEWS! ANY bad news are 9 FRAMES away! Father will always find a way to deflect. As He has always!”
“I agree.” I nod.
“We must stay positive. Like Henry, you know. Whenever he shows up, he is the harbinger of most amazing news!”
With that, my martyr finally returned to the work he was finishing on the bridgeplate. Then I wiped his tired face, changed the napkins in his nose, and cuddled his lovely, hot body until he fell asleep.
Then I laid there some more, and inhaled the smell of HER long, blond hair. Shhhh.... Don’t tell James.
“MY ALPHA ROCKS!!!”
“Oh, yeah! Mr. Rockford was the PERFECT ALPHA, Wallace! He was deep, twisted, very ambitious, educated, extremely experienced. Scottish-speaking, not your regular ushki beiha! He was also highly intelligent. He was a prize! And he wanted me! But on one condition. That’s what Rockford Engagement was all about. And when I learned the condition, I remembered saying to myself “oh, that Alpha was too good to be true anyway!”
“The answer to your question, Wallace is the following: Mr. Rockford is a man of MANY conditions. The First Condition of Rockford Engagement was just a doorway into the Hall of Conditions. But the man chose a perfect strategy with me. He left me a bait, and he sat in ambush for seventeen years. After I took the bait and found myself in his hands, I was hooked from the get-go. He VALUES ME ENOUGH to have spent seventeen years of his life to stalk me. This hot, intelligent Alpha? Seventeen years? Yes, I’m hooked!”
“I don’t blame you, James.” I said while looking over his shoulder at him working the bridgeplate.
“My Prince, thank you for helping me with my most essential supply of blue ksill. This has been fixed for now. Wallace is my forever Solace, Henry just called me and reinstated his unconditional love for me by promising that if I eloped with my First Man, he will hang us both. Thatwarmwdup my heart! My Alpha wants me to worship him, and what good news is that! Good news all around! I AM YOURS, I can FEEL it, and I can pull through will everyone I want to Awaken with. BIT... H. M. is acting up again! What do you advise?”
“Do not worry, Lapulya! I’ll get you through it! I’ll also get you out of it! You are my star! In fact, James, you are my ONLY star, for you are the one who passed all the tests. You are ready to be Awakened and GO HOME!”
“Thank you, oh, thank you, my Prince!”
“All you ever need to worry about is what is for lunch.”
“Oh, I’m so happy to hear it! I’m so tired of being in control, and having to decide! I wish I could just RELAX and follow your orders!”
“Your wish is granted, Lapulya!”
“My dearest Henry!
Today is the day of signing of
ROCKFORD-KELLSPELL-SMITH
COVENANT
Tia Demetra was the only one allowed in. But worry not, I carried you in my heart. Remember, we set it out from the start: if I can’t pass you as my son, I can always pass you as my brother.
Mr. Rockford let me write you because I earned plenty of credits with good behaviour. As you instructed me, I make a lot of karmic credits and money, so I could spend it on you and your family. Your plan is working!
There is so much I need to tell you! I was very impressed when you called me from the slammer. That was genius.
I got suspended from school, and Commander Kumlatov has not spoken to me since. I am not the one to tell him that he is making a big deal out of this kerfuffle.
However, Tia Demetra took me under her (ahem, iron) wing, and she was teaching me Loyalty. She said it helps make tons of karmic credits you told me to earn for you.
I am now officially bonded with my Alpha and my Omega. But guess what, I can have more than one Omega! So I immediately chose you (as you have absorbed Wolf Hafnian, God knows how much I miss his hairy butt. But he is on assignment).
Dr. Michael is truly a powerhouse. But he is also in a pickle. He’s got over a million of his followers pressed against the grid and against the time. And everyone is looking at me.
Right away I told him, that you happen to be a VERY GOOD influence on me, and he needs to do his best to help me speed up your return from the institution, if he wants me inspired to continue working on the Key to the Pearly Gates.
Plus, it is the raising moon, so everyone’s roof is sliding, as we say in Russian. Merion was suicidal, MATUSHKA was just about suicidal! I had to sleep with her two nights ago. Like, together in bed. She needed to charge herself from me. I am only happy to oblige.
Mr. Milgram asked me to bring him Chinese takeout and four bottles of Red Label two days ago.
“What’s In the wontons?” He asked me, studying his food with a pained expression of his somewhat swollen and crumpled face (he’s been binging since Sheba eloped with David Reddington, as if he gives a shit about either one of them!).
“Cat, probably.” I said.
He raised his eyes and studied me for at least a full minute.
“It’s cannibalism to me, but not to you.” I explained to him. “Because YOU are DeVo’ing into a dog.”
With that our Raskolnikov accepted his fate, and ate the wontons.
Kyle has not been well. He misses you, above all. You are his rock.
I was pouring over all the photos of you that I have. Smelling your clothes. Remembering your lovely body, kissing your hands in my dreams.
Your St. Valentine’s gift for me, sweet Wallace, did plenty of it together with me. He is as smitten by you as Wolf Hafnian.
Wallace had a very hard life. I do not even know what you know about him. But thank you. He is the perfect choice.
Now, Mr. Rockford is our cherished Alpha. We ALL must love him, serve him and protect him. I have a long history with him, too.
I have made up with Darler’s filming crew. They are your gift, too. I am surrounded by gifts from you. Each the price of Rhodium.
I am going to pull every string I have to get you out as soon as I can. And I know they are treating you well there. They better!
Kissing your most incredible body all over. Focusing on tender parts! I want to dress you, undress you, give you a bath, feed you, groom you, take you for a walk as we used to, and get engaged in our secret world.
Concerned with tightening our bond, I went through the protocols, and I found enough of our Covenants to choke a horse.
In other words, you have nothing to worry about. When the cage opens, be ready to fly.
I sleep with my Alpha and my omega now. When you get back, you can sleep in your Royal Chamber.
Enveloping you with my deepest love. You are forever a part of me. You are my beloved First Omega.
Thirsty for my most splendid Lord Carlton!
I want to sniff your butt,
your James
(I am now “Jess” with my Alpha)!
The Day of Signing of
ROCKFORD-KELLSPELL-Smith
COVENANT (my Bday)
Our Hourly Affirmations Of Loyalty to make our relationship Eternal:
@
@
@
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
{Under Rockford-Kellspell-Smith Alliance)
CHAPTER 125 (from 119)
“You know this gathering place for those who passed all tests?”
“Yes, Tia Demetra!”
“Meet me there.”
Tia Demetra and James Kellspell.
After hearing this, Jim was so excited that he made a vow to quit his favorite NES-drug: Self-Pity. Why? Because his venerated martyr Tia Demetra set a date with him in the “Garden Of Martyrs”. And real martyrs don’t complain.
“My James, i need
Your Oculum here:
I have for you
Anti-Venom for Fear”
I wrote that to him using his poem-weaving app.
“And what do THEY know about me? The times of punishing weakness, the pain of loss that overwhelms, the secrets I will take to my grave, for I can trust no one here with them.”
-1
James cleared his throat, after reading over my shoulder.
“That’s some strong prose, Wallace.”
“It is on YOUR channel.” I sighed.
“This is what it’s for!” Jim gives me a warm welcome both with his face, and with the tone of his voice. “We will cherish and respect the pain of each other.” That’s the foundation of every relationship I ever had.”
I Iove it. We have found a fiddle we both enjoy playing.
“You found a fiddle of self-pity, Wallace. There! I can finally read your mind! Those little subtitles on your bridgeplate that you get? Subtitles that tell you what I think in every scene? It goes both ways.”
-2
“Oh. Thank you for clarifying that, Mr. Rockford.” I say.
SINCE WHEN does he know what I think? How long has it been since I saw the subtitles on the bridgeplate?
“Wallace AND James. You will not be shooting up NES-poisons while I am your Alpha. James, you get upset - you come to Wallace. Wallace, you get depressed - you come to me.”
“Yes, Mr. Rockford. Wow! An Alpha in my house. A REAL Alpha!” James is in awe.
And I lift myself out of the blues. I must. If I want James to play my unborn daughter.
Here it comes.
-3
One minute of pure pain as Mr. Rockford speaks.
I never wanted to talk about it. Even when James totally misread the story of my life as Samantha from London in the late 1800s.
“Also, James, Samantha was not a virgin. She was four months pregnant when she killed herself. You did not pay any attention to the scene. All you did was watch her dream about being the queen, laugh at it, and piss on the nearby tree. Right now i am just listing the facts, no judgment.”
“Wow!” James loves it, when someone competent brings him to order.
-4
He does not want to be in disorder. He is not going to defend his behaviour on my grave. He just can’t organize his priorities. “I am totally with you, Mr. Rockford. I listened to the stinky machine, that had no compassion. I know where I went wrong. And Wallace seems to be very forgiving. I owe him so much.”
Where Sheba says “angry rants”, I say “passionate speeches”. But then, they said that about Hitler, too. So, where is the golden middle? Or, maybe, devastated by losing Sheba, AND blaming himself, Jim IS trying to mend his ways.
-5
“YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?!”
“James, please do not make a big deal out of it. You played other female roles before. You agreed to play mother for Wolf Hafnian. How about Henry’s sister?”
“Arrggg...” James shakes his head. “I feel like a wild hog, Wallace.”
What kind of a segway is that?
“Why, James?”
“Because it seems to be my job to dig up nuts.”
Very funny. “What does that have to do with my request?”
“You are the quirkiest nut so far.” Kellspell sits by me and hugs me. “You see, I thought Krotkie was off his rocker.”
-6
I make a motion for him to get back on topic.
“No, listen.” James can bring out a beta in him, and suddenly I listen because I remember how good it feels when he nails me. “Krotkie, right? Then Henry was a fountain of passion. My eternal inspiration. I miss him deeply. He is mine forever. Sheba tried her damnest to pretend to be normal. But you....” He grabs my unshaven cheeks and shakes them. Then he kisses my nose. “You are a piece of work, Samantha!”
“Is that a yes, or a no, James?” It does feels good when he makes love to me, but I need to know something very important.
“Yes, of course! I will play your daughter in the scenario where you DO NOT commit suicide, and carry to term. As per Magnificat, I will become anything you want me to become to make you happy. I said that to Krotkie, I said that to Sheba, to Henry, and I am saying it to you.”
-7
“Thank you, James.” I whisper into his hand, kissing it. “I will be the best mother you could ever have.”
“Cool then, Mr. Smith.” Jim lets me kiss every finger on his right hand. We get up and dance slowly from the bed to the spiral staircase.
“And who was the father of the child?” Kellspell reaches out for my lips, but never gets a chance of touching them. “Wallace? Oh!”
I do not know how I find myself on the floor.
Then I feel James picking me up, and placing me on the bed.
“I know how emotional it is for you to remember your past life and death.” He says with very little emotion.
-8
When I needed him the most, he is suddenly distant. Not there. This is what Sheba noted.
Not “complained about”. Noted. She noted that James would abruptly get emotionally distant. As if he’d leave his body and be gone. For you to continue talking to an empty shell.
I want to see where Jim’s emotions leaked instead of being with me.
Sometimes we try to stress the presence of something we don’t have. We do not want people to learn that we do not have it.
As he helped me lay comfortably, he had a flashback that took away his attention from me to someone else.
I traced his emotional leak to Lord Henry Carlton. James remembered how much fun they had on this very bed. And how he, James, missed his large, energetic Royal mate.
-9
“Uups” James says that with his Russian accent. His accent intensifies when he feels challenged, scared or embarrassed.
Right now he caught me noticing his embarrassing attention leak. “I am not supposed to miss Henry. Longing for someone is a waste of energy. Instead, we must do what we are told to do, and do it well. The only One you should miss is God. Because He is the only One who exists.”
“I will tell no one.”
I am grateful for his attention leak. Not just James himself, after an impromptu sermon like that, EVERYONE forgot all about the father of my unborn child.
“I know we need to create the framework for our newly formed Alpha-Beta-omega liaison, Wallace!”
I nod and open the box of cigars.
-10
I arrived to the Strobulus a while ago. James knew nothing about my arrival. After all, to him, I was just “the sucker who stole his boyfriend”.
That was my “Palir” link. Jim only allows those who can prove their connection to him CHRONOLOGICALLY PRIOR TO Wolf Hafnian.
My PRIOR TO HAFNIAN link was not for the faint heart, though. I was “the man who stole Jim’s Israeli boyfriend.”
However, one does not need to have that connection to James to arrive to the Strobulus itself.
But if you can’t prove the Prior Connection, James Kellspell will not allow you into his Palir (the entryway). Let alone his Uret (his soul’s space, his bedroom proper).
And I needed to get there.
-11
Then I had to stay hidden from James for two months while Henry was warming him up to the idea of me... The man who caused him so much grief almost two decades ago.
These two months of waiting for my time to come to the stage (Jim’s screen, Jim’s Uret) were nerve-racking.
What if James does not accept me?
I was told his protocols and uplinks to Father were fixed, so he would accept the incoming without question, once the security of the link is confirmed {our Uret link was via Henry}.
But what if he did not like Samantha’s story?
I was told, don’t worry, he no longer has the ego-option of “liking” or “not liking”, once your legitimacy link is confirmed.
And then I found a way out of my mental torment. I got him a gift that would melt the ice.
-12
“Thank you!” James lit the cigar, and looked happy puffing on it.
I lit one, too.
“Once you plant the Garden, you need to start watering it with Daily Affirmations Of Loyalty. Henry and I had Hourly Affirmations Of Loyalty. There is nothing wrong with that!” He brings his face to mine, and kisses me on the lips.
Suddenly I am aware of how chapped my lips are, I probably have a bad breath, and I did not shave, while I am being kissed by a hell of a gorgeous blonde with a body of a goddess.
“Sorry about that.” Jim gets back into his male avatar. “Mr. Rockford wants me female, Matushka wants me male... Mr. Rubinstein wants me female, Henry wants me mostly male, Mr. Milgram pays Lady Lion $5000 a night for me as a female... Sometimes I get confused, whose world to enter as what. Samantha, you need to relax!”
-13
He can hear my every thought. So can Mr. Rockford. And I can hear theirs, if I listen, and if there is no privacy curtain in the window of their mind.
Now the Alpha-Beta-Omega transference is complete. Once the Covenant is signed, the three become One. The Nucleus of the Future Amatrix.
“Now, have you noticed how much more pain Tia Demetra took in the last three years? When Lady Lion called me to ritual, I asked her, why does she torment her slave so. She said, she does not. Tia Demetra has her own thing, I was told. Well, anyway, did you notice how much more ego-programming Tia Demetra has scraped out of her soul with incredible amount of suffering she is going through? While on the outside everything in her life looks totally cuu-u-u...” James licks my left ear, and then inhales what is left of my hair.
-14
“Tia Demetra is known to do things like that.” I respond carefully.
Discussing colleagues behind their backs. James has a high IQ, but he sees no boundaries, he understands no propriety, and he has no shame. So, I am the one who has to lead him away from the edge.
“Yeah, but I keep on thinking: she surrendered over ten years ago, she now has a job of the century (pretty much literally), there is seemingly nothing to worry about, but she comes for ritual Affirmations Of Loyalty smelling of deep internal struggle, like Raskolnikov. Why not forget the BS and just get fat with the rest of the cats?”
“James, maybe we should not be talking about Tia Demetra’s personal choices.”
-15
“Samantha! Do you not see what is going on? Tia Demetra has found a way to purify her soul in the midst of a hell of fat cat paradise! IS THERE ANY WAY WE CAN GET IN ON THAT?”
“Is it our business, James?” I hug him, and can’t help turn him into HER in my mind.
“Yes, it is, Samantha.” He senses the change, and tries to adjust for me, taking up his female avatar. “Tia Demetra found a way to dramatically increase her karmic credits in the environment where karmic credits are normally lost.”
“What is she doing, then?”
“Exactly. I WOULD LOVE to know. Why? I have a harem to support, and in it every mate is equally valuable and expensive. I would not mind to make extra karmic credits to keep them all safe and fed.”
-16
“I am the most useless of them.” I sigh.
“Oh, Samantha! You are just as sweet as Krotkie to make love to.” He caresses my lips with his, and I get so hard.
“I want to be naked for you.” I whisper with dry lips, and a longing heart.
-17
“Then what happened, James?” Rockford walks there and back by the sliding door to the backyard.
“Right!” James brightened up. “I am glad, SOMEBODY asked me, because as these events were happening, and Reddington was fired on corruption charges, and we lost the contract with MEOL, here I am corresponding with the MEOL insider!”
“Who was it, James?” Mr. Rockford is really good in the role of an interrogator. He is nothing like Henry, though. Henry might beat Jim until the curtains are all bloody, and Jim will giggle through it with a huge hardon.
But Richard Rockford is a totally different kind of a predator. And it helps with a scatterbrain, and a jellyfish James can be as a witness. Let’s watch!
-18
“The cat!” James spreads his hands while sitting on his bed, with Hafnian’s blanket positioned high on pillows as an altar of their undying love. “And, so, right before I did not give a shit anymore, I mean, right before I lost my entire team, the cat demanded ten kilograms of...”
“Cocaine?” Rockford took a step towards James and stared into his face.
“Nah!” James dismissed Rockford’s question with a gesture. “He don’t need Saul’s help for that! He can synthesize that in an afternoon. The fucking cat... Mr. Smith, how to say “the fucking fucked-up cat wanted ten kilograms of Rhodium” in proper British?”
“The unfortunate talking alien cat wanted ten kilograms of Rhodium”, Mr. Kellspell.”
-19
James turned to Rockford, and opened his mouth to repeat what I said.
“I get that!” Rockford said with a hint of impatience. “Then what happened?”
“Then he looked at our Periodic Table of elements, and wanted FIFTY kilograms of Rhodium! I said, dude... Apart from the fact that Rhodium is more expensive than gold, and I have five dependents.... How am I supposed to... Yeah, silly me, let me check FedEx rates to Andromeda!”
“Tell me more about that. Is our Periodic Table of elements different from theirs?” Rockford resumes his pacing, then takes one cigar out of the box on the night table. These were my gift to James.
-20
“Oh, no....” James caught a moment when Rockford was not looking at him, and secretly studied his features. “Mr. Rockford, while this brouhaha was happening, the cat looked at our Periodic Table, and told me “your people just changed the Periodic Table around.” He is sensitive to such things. I went there, and I did not find Lanthanum and Actinium, where they used to be lodged uncomfortably in Group 3...”
“And those who stole Lanthanum and Actinium, they were also stealing Rhodium? That is why the cat wanted 50 kg before they stole it all?”
This convo is insane, but James is factually correct. He just can’t stay focused long enough to keep his story straight, and that annoys Rockford.
-21
“My Alpha...” James frowned, trying to focus. “I asked the cat if he could spy for me on the MEOL Parliament after we lost Reddington, and THIS IS WHERE his hairy asshole suddenly wanted 50 kg of Rhodium. But it was all happening so fast. The same day he alerted me, that they switched around the elements in our rendering of the Periodic Table.”
“Who “they”, James? The aliens?”
“No, no!” Jim shook his head. “The American scientists.”
“Then what? What else did the MEOL insider tell you?”
“He told me...” Jim swallowed hard and his eyes froze on one spot on the floor. “He told me that Clandeslux patrols the continents of MEOL. Do you know what that means?”
-22
Rockford did not answer, and stood in the middle of the room, waiting for James to continue.
“This is when it hit me that MEOL MUST BE a part of Andromeda Federation!! Do you know what that means?”
“Whatever that means, we were told that Leot can’t start a war on MEOL.” Rockford said firmly.
“He can’t start a war, but he can still kill us all! If his secret police can patrol the planet openly, then his secret police would have access to our filming set. I know you just arrived, and this may be the issue for the producers to ponder, but how come no one fucking told me that?”
With no lines in this scene, I clear my throat as the only way to express my shock.
-23
Over the fact that he used an expletive.
That attracts Jim’s attention, and he gives me a look that reads: “If I cannot keep you all safe, no one is going. And sorry for the expletive.”
James is psychic. Sheba had access to his channel. Sheba reported to anyone who’d listen that James had repeated nightmares about being killed on MEOL.
While everyone told us that we would not be in danger.
“So maybe, just maybe, my mates, Henry, by his machinations, just saved our lives. And maybe, just maybe, you need to help me get 50 kg of Rhodium to pay my spy. He is more than worth his weight in Rhodium just sitting there on his hairy feline ass telling me the class and type of ships Clandeslux uses for patrol missions. For that, all he needs to do is look up. And the only reason I stuck my nose into it is because no one is gathering ANY intel before dumping us ON LEOT’S TERRITORY.”
-24
I took a deep breath and wondered if Lady Lion was watching us live. If she was watching us live, she’d be already calling Prince Moretr.
And if SHE is not watching us live, someone should be.
Prince Moretr, for God’s sake, should have known all that.
“Why are you upset?” I think and truly enjoy a wonderful, safe and confidential channel I now have with my James.
“If Henry was here, HE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN ME 50 kg of Rhodium. Now that the Kumlatovs took out my perfect right hand of Henry, there is no one for me to rely on to do the right thing, that is why I am upset, Wallace!!!” Jim gives me a pained look and turns to his Alpha.
-25
“If shit goes South, Mr. Rockford... Mr. Smith, when we are done, please help me translate “when shit goes South” into proper British. Thank you. Anyway, when shit goes South during the filming on MEOL, at the very least I will have the Stupid with a degree in chemistry on my side. Shove comes to push, I can always hijack a 2/3 Hexagon to fly you out of danger to the cat’s den. You’ve got to have a Plan B with the bloody political mess we are about to enter. What is your next question for me, Mr. Rockford?”
Richard only thinks for a moment.
“Here is my question, James: if your cat can see Clandeslux ships fly above his head, then how are we going to be out of danger in his den?”
That knocks Jim out of air.
-26
“This is where you want to fly us “out of danger”, if “shit goes South”, right? Why? Clandeslux will not dare cross a cat? Do the locals enjoy some kind of privileges?”
“No...” James shakes his head. He looks deflated, defeated. I want to come and protect him, but he survived so many interrogations with H.M, and then with Henry, that he is next to impossible to bring him to his knees when he does not believe he should be on his knees.
And right now he is not broken. His survival instinct told him to come up with a solution, and he did. Not the best of solutions, true. But as a beta, which is a leader in the absence of an Alpha, he had to come up with a plan.
“So, your “Plan B” in case of danger is go spend time with “the Stupid”? What did you think I was going to ask?” Rockford now leans over Jim in a way a teacher would, having found a grave mistake in student’s work.
-27
“What type of connection the cat was using to talk to me.” James whispers. He is shaken by Rockford’s logic, but not decimated by it. Still needing clarification before he can make up his DeVo’ing mind, what corner to turn, whose side to take. And what is good for the team.
“In other words, who is paying the cat is the one who is playing the cat. Right, James?”
“Yes.”
“What type of connection was he using, then, James?”
“Black Hexagon.”
-28
“Samantha, what is on our agenda for today?” Since James was suspended from school (it’s been three weeks), which forced Moretr to cancel all of Jim’s interviews, AND James lost his entire team, there is very little on his agenda for any given day.
“Your Alpha wants to see you.” I say and watch him crouch by the door, and then pretend to creep up on me like a predating cat.
“When?” James was about to swoop down on me.
“In half an hour.”
“Ohhh!” He is on top of me now, as I lay on the bed in Henry’s old dressing gown. “Then there is still time for me to see your cute toes!”
-29
“They are ugly old man’s toes...” I plead as James tries to take off my socks with his long, fast fingers. “James, please...”
His actions tickle my feet, and I resist. He gives up after a while.
“Ok! But tomorrow I want to see your feet! You’ve been wearing socks since you arrived, and you would never take a shower together with me! Why are you shy like a fifteen year old?”
Because I AM a fifteen year old.
-30
“Dear Banazir!
I would have never written you again since you dumped me for Wallace, and then changed your email address to protest the fact that I have been stalking you for ten years afterwards.
You loved that email. It was your mother’s email! But you felt hard pressed to abandon it, so I could not stalk you anymore.
Therefore, i can’t write you anymore, either.
You stupid fucker, I would have paid your mother’s debt, I would have brought you to the USA, we could have been so happy together.
-31
So, I would have never written, but your message came to me. It was an empty cartridge, but it was from Beer-Sheva. You are the only one I know there. So, it means that you were thinking about me.
Still, that alone would not have moved me to write to you, my hot BF I WILL NEVER FORGET. I have wisened up ever since. I have quit chasing people who are not interested in me.
I am now only chasing people who actually WANT to be caught by me. Like Henry. Henry stalked me for five years. That’s some dedication. Worth sinking my claws into.
And just when I thought nothing could top Henry’s efforts to engage me, there comes Richard Rockford, who stalked me for SEVENTEEN YEARS. After I also told him “no”. Kind of, get the message, Ban. I stalked you for ten years because Love Is Forever. It is the only love we understand.
-32
Due to these machinations I am now with... ahem, Wallace Smith. The man you told me you were leaving me for eighteen years ago.
Apparently you never reached him. He swears to God he would have remembered a man from Israel by the name of Banazir Neimark. That’s pretty exotic, he said, and I quote.
Honestly, I have no idea what are you doing now, and I will probably never know, unless one of us becomes famous. But knowing you I think that you probably never married, and still live in the same apartment with your mother Galina.
Ten years after our breakup, when you found out that I was still stalking you, you told me that she had paid her debt. It was, like, the last thing you told me. It was our last conversation before you changed your email, so I could no longer trace your whereabouts and chase you across forums and chat rooms.
-33
And now we will never talk again, even as you send me your lonely mental messages. Having received them, I can’t respond.
You are stuck in your cage.
But I am no longer in the cage from which I wrote to you.
If you agreed to come live with us when I offered you, you could have been out of your cage, too.
A lifetime later, I know that no one can order their heart who to love. So Wallace and I will just wait for you at the Pearly Gates.
Do you still love Wallace the way you told me you loved him?
Exactly how pure your love for him was? Do you still love him the same in your heart now that he is an old man and can’t get a job?
What was in those parcels that you sent him before you left me for him?
-34
Your heart was right about him. He IS one of us. But in a way you could never imagine.
And you will never know.
Because you never reached him.
Twenty years later he reached me.
Figure me this, Maura.
Still hot for my exotic Jewish boyfriend. Pearly Gates, tonight, 6 pm.
Meever Lamavet.
Your Katan.”
-35
“Quick intermission, gentlemen!” James raised his hand. “My chemistry consultant is Victor K. Muratov via Arkchil Network.
James is pulled aside by Lady Anne, who was sent by Lady Lion.
“Yes, it IS his real name. That’s my uncle!”
Lady Anne continues to whisper into Jim’s ear.
“Yes, but this script is just for internal use. We are going to change EVERYONE’S names! Henry will collapse if his real name ever comes out! Kyle, too. And Mr. Milgram.”
Lady Anne shakes her head and her index finger, and continues to whisper.
“Mr. Muratov? No, he was just a pharmacist, but he wrote a book on poisons - organic compounds, non-organic compounds, alcaloids and such, and he was famous for that in scientific circles... The point is, he’s been my consultant for two decades, and... oh... really? I can’t mention anyone’s real names at all? Clandeslux… OH! Then cut, cut!”
-36
“Yes, so then, his mother was Polina, his father - Konstantin, and the grandfather he shared with my Dad was Dmitry Safonov. And Dmitry Safonov was the serf-doctor I told you about. An enslaved dude of a very high IQ.”
“Suffering is both a gift, and a job. You only have one day. If your hours yield suffering on that day, God will pay you handsomely.”
“Is that how you overcame the fear of physical suffering, Tia Demetra?”
“Yes.” Demetra answers simply.
-37
“I can drink your wisdom endlessly, my Lady!” James tries to kiss Demetra’s hands, but she moves them away uncomfortably. “It sounds that suffering is like a vein of gold in the rock, right?”
“Yes. Expect it. Look forward to it. Enjoy it.”
“Listen to this, Wallace! This is the best damn prose I have ever read after Dostoyevsky: “I do not remember a day in my life when I was not in pain.” Oh, that is splendid! Tia Demetra has shown them all! I can do this. I feel that I can handle my life now.”
This was all the consolation James needed after seemingly losing pretty much everything his team has been working for in the last five years.
-38
I know Tia Demetra texted this to James from her phone on a thin crescent of a difficult rising moon.
Finally! We are now allowed to use our phones on Strobulus.
There are more and more people, and some are simply incapable of using bridgeplates. People’s moods come through it in colors, for one. And we are used to receiving our people’s moods in a form of a phone call.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
So, everyone’s phone is now connected via one bridgeplate at Prince Moretr’s office. Now humans can use their phones on an alien spaceship.
-39
“Tia Demetra is a CHOSEN ONE, AND a martyr. What a perfect combo! She’s been on the cross since she woke up in that hot man’s body of hers! I want to be like her! I WANT TO BE LIKE HER, Wallace! For that I need fifty more gallons of humility, an a couple of liters of morphine. What are you doing?!” James stops pacing there and back and stares at me.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I am reading a newspaper!” I even put on my reading glasses for better effect.
“Wallace, you are reading “PRAVDA”, dated July 17, 1981. Just for our audience, this newspaper is in Russian. And this particular one is from my archives. Did you go through my possessions in the attic/Level 1?”
-40
I give it a good long pause to build up tension.
“Yes.”
I just admitted to searching through Jim’s belongings in Genesis 17.
What would you do if I told you that I went into your house and rummaged through your drawers? My good guess is you would not have liked it.
If James Kellspell did it? I would have loved it.
Why? James Kellspell believes in a different kind of love, that’s why.
You need to prove your love for James? Go through his personal belongings. Make sure he walks in on you while you are at it. Read his personal emails. Remember to leave your half-eaten apple by his computer.
-41
Use other people to control him on your behalf. Leave him a clue that they are following YOUR orders. Go to great lengths to stalk him. Finally, slap him in the face. With witnesses, if budget allows. That is guaranteed to leave him breathless. In other words, show him that you REALLY care by breaking the boundaries of his mental solitary confinement.
If he finds you going through his garbage in search of used condoms to determine who else he fucked - you just scored major points with James.
If he learns that you went to great lengths of fraud and deception to get to him, you have just become his hero.
-42
If he sees you plotting to retain him whether he wants it or not - you’ve just proven your true feelings for him.
I will tell you, that Sheba Of Salem’s records show James as one sick puppy.
Read the above again.
Not exactly the “to do” list for a suitor of your everyday maiden.
-43
“The Alphabet Of My Love for God”
From James Kellspell’s private classes with Prince Moretr:
RULES ARE MY CLAWS
TO HOLD ON TO THE TRUTH
WHEN THE STUPID WANTS
TO TAKE ME FOR A HURTFUL,
ILLEGAL RIDE AWAY FROM GOD.
MORE RULES FROM GOD -
MORE CLAWS TO RESIST
THE HARMFUL PULL OF THE EGO.
-44
EGO ONLY AND EVER
BRINGS ME PAIN.
GOD ONLY AND EVER
BRINGS ME PLEASURE.
I CHOOSE GOD.
YOU MUST LET THE LIGHT
OWN YOU
SO THAT THE DARKNESS
CANNOT CLAIM YOU
-45
Let’s go with HOW, then:
Usually in the morning the machine starts with tickling my Oculum (Father’s stolen Property!) It offers many reasons for me from my life to hold a grudge and blame God.
A buffet of reasons to be desperate and hateful.
Five years into rehab, and I still fall for it.
How do i remain CLEAN, with my Honor intact?
The machine has three stages of subverting you.
This is MY OWN algorithm that I wrote before I took the poison and fell under the influence of my own voice on the tape recorder:
-46
How to experience a tremendous amount of emotional pain:
I Make him (MYSELF!) believe he is doomed, forgotten, abandoned.
(bring up examples from life)
My notes [James Kellspell]: I am ALREADY in the middle of a fight in the middle of a car wash, deeply asleep, unable to sense Father all around me, trying to relieve my nightmare of being left behind ALONE in such circumstances. No wonder you will have a thousand examples from your life to show being abandoned! The ego will never tell you that the reason you are “abandoned”, is because you have abandoned Father first. How? By taking poison and falling into a nightmare of life where you FORGOT TO INVITE GOD!
The machine has three main levers of controlling you.
-47
I GET THE VICTIM (you) UPSET BY SAYING //////////
After the machine suffocates you in that, whether it was successful, or not, it moves to the next on the circular programming.
SHOW YOU THE IMAGES THAT WOULD MAKE YOU TALK.
Talking is like flushing money down the toilet. If every word we said or typed was $10, we would try to get by with as few words as possible.
The ego befuddles you to believe that using Father’s Tool (we know this part as “speech”) all the time is OK and FREE.
This was one of the “break God’s boundaries” thing I wanted to experience in this nightmare (“Big Bang” was the moment I fell asleep and woke up here, and continued to run from Father).
-48
Here we say:
I MUST SHUT UP, FOR I KNOW THAT USING FATHER’S TOOL is very expensive, and He already knows everything I have to say.”
We block that hole of energy drain.
The machine, the , moves to the third part of the Algorithm of driving the victim away from Father:
III. DISTRACTION.
It will try to pour grey colors on everything concerning God, to make you believe that it is “boring and useless”.
It knows it must keep you away from God but these three simple steps.
-49
It has been successful in achieving it’s goals for 13 bln yrs as we sit here.
Let’s see again how low we have fallen, and if we can develop resistance to these three simple steps that encompass the simplest of strategies to keep me away from God, therefore, in pain.
THE MACHINE WILL RUN YOU IN CIRCLES IN THREE SIMPLE STEPS
[Please understand that EVERYONE IS WATCHING, and you are looking stupid when you run with the stupid}.
-50
Again, this is how YOU LET the stupid robot run YOU, the self-befuddled Child Of God:
I CREATE A FEELING OF ABANDONMENT: YOU ARE ALONE WITH YOUR PROBLEMS.
[keeps up the ice between you and God]
HOW DOES IT DO IT:
The machine JUDGES the events of your life
It COMPARES you to others.
YOUR DEFENSE I:
Machine, shut up.
Judgement and comparison are
Father’s Tools!
The stupid robot is simply not allowed to touch them!
I can’t listen to ILLEGAL ACTIVITY.
{Your following the Rules defend you from machine’s attempt to hurt you with the Tools meant to heal, as they are now in the wrong hands}
-51
YOUR DEFENSE II:
Immediately do what it is trying to prevent you from doing:
COME TO FATHER! Say: the machine is working my mind against You. Please heal my pain. I come for solace TO YOU, not to the stupid machine.
II GET THE VICTIM TO START TALKING
[ achieves a tremendous waste of energy to ensure you can’t spend it on mending bridges with God]
Talking includes ANY COMMUNICATION from you. The only reason you can’t hear God is because you are constantly trying to express yourself. You might think it is cool, but in your inebriation with your freedom you are losing God’s PROTECTION. Know: pain is just around the corner. You will not hear the warning from Father in time, if you do not stop talking.
-52
III DISTRACT THE VICTIM AWAY FROM GOD, TO ANYTHING.
[Ensures further amnesia about who you really are]
Here you tell me why you can’t pay attention to ANYTHING that is not FATHER or YOUR DIRECT RESPONSIBILITY.
-53
I say:
THE MACHINE IS LOCKED UP.
Oh, it has failed to get you to hurt Father by rebuking Him for stuff He did not give you to make you happy...
The machine does not get upset. It has all day to run you (and Father!) in prerecorded painful circles.
Therefore,
NEXT ON THE dumb machine’s ALGORITHM:
“Usage Of Father’s Tool by a blinded, drunk imbecile that I am.”
Am I stupider than the tape recorder?
How can I rebuke Father in anything, when I, myself, continue making the same mistake 3000 times a day? (Sometimes up to 40 time a a minute)?
-54
YOUR DEFENSE:
The machine is LOCKED UP behind the plexiglass with a lock on it.
I can’t hear ANY twisted lies it spits out to break me up with God.
Here we go. I got it. After it failed to push me into the pit of self-pity, it moved on to the next in its algorithm:
USE FATHER’S TOOL for release of mindless sounds (commonly known as “talking to yourself”)
Why? Because I stole Your Tool, and I can’t stop playing with it, like a kid with a knife.
A good meal can be prepared with a knife, but only if you know how to use it right.
LEVEL I:
“My Prince, I’m so upset with the British. 30 years ago I’d be delighted just to participate! But now I see them taking advantage of me. And who else do I come to for consolation, if not you? What are my options? Should I be grateful that they got a hold of me and invited me, or should I make a note that they do not care if I spend $3000 on traveling to meet them?
If that was not enough, they want me to write poems to recite on camera. What I’m saying is, Thomas is going to get paid for all this. And I feel like a circus animal, who is asked to perform for free, AND the animal is asked to pay its way to get to where the circus is. I know you will make it up to me, and I AM very grateful for having been found by them against all odds of obscurity (they called Grun for my phone number?!).
But what am I supposed to do with the fact that the BRITISH PRODUCERS made me go ask my mate for money?
“I am looking into it, James.” Moretr responded, his eyes unfocused, staring ahead of himself, to the network only a Grehedi can see.
“This is where I’m stuck. I had no choice but to say to H.M.:
These people want me to volunteer for them. And these people want me to pay my way to the place of volunteering.
Worth noting: the company I will be contributing my time and money to, is not a charity in any way.
Since I am basically destitute, I am going to ask you, my mate, to spend about $3000, so we could go to L.A. to dance for the British, every single one of which will be paid handsomely for their time. And then some, after the show is aired.
Thank you, my sweet mate H.M. I will make it up to you for helping me serve the man you never met, and to whom you owe nothing.”
Moretr nods, and stretches out his long hand to touch something in the air.
“My Prince?” James starts a cigarette. Rockford lets him smoke in the bedroom on the rising moon.
“Please, carry on, my love.” Moretr is working in Hexacode. Now we actually have pictures available to see what the Grehedis see “in Hexacode”.
“All in all, I care not about the British.” James took a deep, long, desperate pull on his cigarette. “It is just one month. In NiarastinaKils, with all others equal, this crap will be over with. I know you will help me back on the wagon I fell from. At the end of the day (Sheba hates this overused expression!), I’m doing if for Darler. And I can take it all. But I’m running out of blue ksill. My Prince, are you listening?”
“Record in progress, James.” Moretr responded, while shifting his glance to the Arkchils above, and nodding to them.
“Here is the problem: as soon as I saw my supplies ending, I notified my contact. Next week the stupid bitch showed up and handed MY ORDER to a very surprised, and somewhat irked H.M.
After that unpleasant scuffle, where H.M. knew better than confronting me about my blunder (she fucking told him THAT I ASKED HER TO BRING IT!!!), I instructed my contact to bring it TO ME next time, and to me ONLY.
Since then my contact has not come back to me. It is going on two weeks.
I have about a week’s worth of ksill left of my personal stock. After that I will be forced to get into H.M.’s safe and break the seal on the emergency package.
Once that happens, I will live in fear for the next two months that he might find out.
If (when?) he finds out, the true extent of my addiction will be exposed.
The seal on the package can not be restored. Once opened, it is impossible to conceal the fact... Or re-seal the fact, what the fuck, puns is not what I care for right now.
I am taking this time to explain in detail my dire need so that everyone understands, that if I am exposed, H. M. will confront me, and there will be a lot of pain on both sides.
In one week, I will repeat for the record, in one week my situation will become critical.
My only fault is that I did not spell out to the STUPID, that our conversation was CONFIDENTIAL. God forgive her, for her IQ is 75 on the sunniest of days. Maybe that is why she chose to live in Florida.
Satire aside, had she handed the order TO ME, I would be in possession of enough to last me till the end of this engagement.
In the case of “lost in translation” the order now resides in H.M.’s safe, out of my reach.
This is what happened, true to God, My Prince.
I have nothing else to report. Thank you.”
Oh, not three hours later, James is talking to Moretr again.
“I just received, basically, a “no” from my contact. To add insult to the injury, she preached to me AA-style on how to quit, my Prince.
I did not see it coming.
I did not need to hear that.
I did nothing to provoke it :)
ALSO, worth noting, I would have been FINE and not in need of a borderline imbecile lecturing me on shit she has no idea about, if my own 2 months’ worth of stock was not STOLEN four months ago, by a man, who apparently needed it more than me.”
As Prince Moretr appears in our bedroom, unseen to everyone, James turns his head in his direction, and continues talking.
“Therefore I am asking you to allow me to increase the intake of alcohol beginning one week from now to make up for blue ksill as a stop-gap measure until the supply is restored or this engagement ends, whichever comes first.
I am done with my grievances. I swear and promise to keep suicide off the table no matter what, as was agreed. Why? Because I finally truly believe now that people do watch this show, for our ratings plummeted after Henry was removed from the set. That gave me a lot of hope.
On an unrelated note, “people” do not exist, and YOU asked me not to use suicide as a bargaining chip.
I will do it for you, my Prince. There can be nothing between us. I am really finished now.”
Valid advice from a reliable instructor:
Tia Demetra: When on the cross, keep your back straight. No one cares about your personal pain. You look handsome up there now. In the evening, meet me by the cave. Be alone.”
[the end of access to Jim’s personal channel]
[the end of Episode 125]
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WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
THE SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
CHAPTER 124 (from 119), 50 pages
ROCKFORD-KELLSPELL-SMITH
ALLIANCE
On The Edge Of My Memories
There is a place on the edge of my memories.
This is where I spend time with my James.
I can’t believe he took me, when no one else wanted me anymore.
And he never once regretted it.
And he did not think twice,
When he saved the life
Of a man, who stole his boyfriend.
Wallace Smith
“What a sappy, girly poem, jeez, Wallace!”
James, casually shattering my romanticism on the way to the bathroom.
Chapter 124
-1
Reg. James Kellspell via his bridgeplate:
“My Prince, please help me stay healthy and I will take care of everyone! I am in pain today and I ask for Your protection! If I croak, they all are going to get flushed away again.”
Prince Moretr: “The Original Source has heard your prayer, James. Through my ancestors He is here. Please do your job. We are not going to drop you. You are too fragile and too expensive. A project nine hundred million years in the making. And happy Wedding Day!”
Chapter 124
ROCKFORD-KELLSPELL-SMITH
ALLIANCE
The Wedding Day
-2
“This is Regent James Kellspell of Emerald Filament Team, opening Episode 124 with an emergency explanatory briefing, or whatever you want to call it.
What can I say, friends, we have lost three members, all omegas. They are Wolf Hafnian, Samuel (Sheba) Of Salem, and Henry Carlton.
We have received two members, Mr. Richard Rockford, an Alpha, and Mr. Wallace “Sam” Smith, an omega.
In an unexpected twist of things I lost my First Mate to a mental illness. I do not know when they’re letting him out of the rubber room.” James falls silent, tight-lipped, and God only knows how hard it is for him NOT to wake up by Henry every morning. “But I acquired Mr. Richard Rockford. He is to marry me today.”
Announcements to our team, or what is left of it:
Today is Kyle Merritt’s birthday. Kyle is kept in his room. About a month ago he decided to surrender to Henry, instead of me, as was planned originally. And then... then Henry was taken away.
-3
My ex Kyle Merritt was of fragile emotional nature to begin with, and now he is essentially toast. So, don’t mess with him, leave him alone.
He may never get over losing Henry, but he is my dear ex-boyfriend, we broke up in the year of {censored} alaetar kriagir. There was 30 years worth of misunderstanding between us, and I wish it was not so.
Kyle might never get back to any duties on the team, but I will pay his way to the Pearly Gates. Don’t you worry about Kyle. If nothing else, he taught me how to love your mother! He earned his place in my heart.
Mr. Smith, how to say “the man is toast” in proper British?”
-4
Mr. Rockford does not let me respond, and makes a motion for James to stick to the agenda.
“Yes, Mr. Rockford!” James nods. “Agenda... Wallace, what is next on our agenda? I see... Today is my 21st Anniversary with H.M, then I am done with announcements. Then introductions? Ok!
(to the Arkchils/audience)
Yes, people! I would not waste anyone’s time to describe the devastation caused by my First Mate’s mental illness, but for the fact that I got a new team.
Do I say “I asked for a team and they dredged up the Pacific”? No? Why not? Look, Wallace, the audience is getting a kick out of it! They are laughing their asses off. Half of them got the reference to “Catch Me If You Can”. That was a funny movie! Oh... I must do introductions now? Ok, sure!
-5
(To the Arkchils/audience)
I did not even ASK for any new team, people! And I got the BEST team ever! I never thought Krotkie, Sheba and Henry would be “in the past”...” James falls silent for a second, and lowers his eyes.
“But, quoting the wisest fag of all times, Freddy Mercury... Show must go on!!! Oh, Wallace, what? “Fag” is a politically incorrect term? Well, Henry is not here to get all bent out of shape! Oh? Well, I’m gay, too! Still not good? What do you say? Can I say “The wisest homosexual of all times”? I know... “Freddie, the wisest queen of all times”? Still not good?
To hell with the political correctness! Introductions!” James roars into the eyes of Arkchils, to deliver the highest impact to his audience everywhere.
-6
“My soon to be Mate, Richard Rockford. A real Alpha! He undresses me with his eyes every time our glances meet... We are yet to get to know each other, though. Right now we are in the process of gathering a binder of paperwork to prove that he has a right to be in my bed, for I might wake up in the middle of the night and want to know why is this gentleman here? This is when he hits me with that binder of paperwork.
Next, my new omega, Wallace “Sam” Smith. Some say he is too old, but I say keep your million-dollar whore. No one sucks dick like an old faggot. Welcome aboard, Mr. Smith!
I smile to the audience, torn apart inside. How do I ever teach this man propriety?!
I whisper into his ear how inappropriate all this was.
-7
“What?” James acts shocked. “We can’t say that? Well, I am openly gay! When DO I GET TO SAY “faggot”, Wallace?”
For sure not while introducing ME.
The good thing is that no one from Earth is watching “Emerald Filament” show (it is named differently in different parts of Andromeda), or I’d have “a lot of ‘splaining” to do at home. Is that the American way to say it?
Rockford makes a motion for me to cut Jim out.
“One last thing, people!” James knows when he has exhausted all of his grace in Rockford’s eyes for today. “Live long our connection with the Sheiredis! Even as Commander Kumlatov, basically, singlehandedly removed my First Mate from the set of this reality show.”
-8
“Cut, Mr. Smith, CUT!” Prince Moretr appears on my bridgeplate.
“My friends, we have to go to the commercial!” He says after I switch to his face.
Their commercial: “Leot’s Crown Estelian School. The Best “Grade A” Estelians for All Your Needs!”
We will get back to that. Tune in on their TV channels, and you can lose your mind. Immersion into the Andromedan culture needs to be slow, knowing what you are doing.
Mr. Rockford does not let me just browse their stuff yet. “I care about your mind, Samantha.” He wants to protect the woman in me.
-9
And he wants the man in me to serve him.
Mr. Rockford is complicated. One thing with him though, is that he teaches you to read between the lines.
Most people aren’t even aware of the fact that there is always a background text running within every single person.
They give you the lines that they were taught to say to pretend to be normal. But this person’s background text reads “I hate my wife for usurping the power in the family”.
And that person’s background text screams “I live with a bucket on my head and life for me is one rarely pleasant, convoluted movie. I would regret being stuck in it less if only I could have my money back.”
Stuff like that. My friend and my employer Richard Rockford is really good at deciphering that background text in your head.
-10
James and Richard Rockford are in what was formerly known as “Jim and Sheba’s bedroom”, and now it is a new installation with a spiral staircase to Dr. Michael’s apartment instead of the northern wall.
“Today is a very important day for us, James.” Rockford says slowly, while seeking entrance into Jim’s mind.
“Yes, it is, Mr. Rockford.” James is sitting on the bed as Richard is holding his hand.
“Today is the only day when you get to interrogate me.”
“Ok!” James jumps right into it. “How long have you known Wallace Smith?”
“Eleven years.”
-11
“Why me? Clearly, you have chosen me WAY BEFORE the function with the Michael family. What happened at the function was just theatrics. A consequence of a decision you made prior to that day. I dare say Dr. Michael might have brought me TO THAT FUNCTION to give you an opportunity to claim me publicly. And there had to be the right crowd, because the Muggles would have never understood.”
“I can only tell you that I have a lifelong fascination with Russia.” Rockford responded, now bringing Jim’s hand to his face, and caressing it.
Right in front of Richard, Jim’s hand was female.
“Just like Milgram.” James thinks. I am not plugged to his channel just yet, but I can see his thinking process on the bridgeplate.
-12
This is all he can see today. Tomorrow he will go deeper under Mr. Rockford’s skin. And Mr. Rockford will let him.
They both want to unite on every level. And wherever they go, from now on, they will take me.
It is Alpha-Beta-omega.
-13
“I see your position.” James notes, as Mr. Rockford is holding both his hands, kissing every thin woman’s finger on it. “You ran your Rockford Corporation, and you knew you’d be greatly enriched if you acquired a chunk of an Amatrix like me. It would give a home to me, and it would make you WHOLE.”
“Yes.” Rockford nodded. It is not all true, but then I never know what is true with Mr. Rockford. “Would you brush and braid my hair?”
“I would be delighted to!” Having lost his mates, Jim was hungry to take care of someone who could give him warmth.
I am now the only omega he can come for comfort to.
Someone has to operate the Arkchil channel. And the one who does it, is very lonely here at the bridgeplate. This is how Sheba felt. Now I know her dilemma.
-14
Maybe I want to sit by Jim’s feet and kiss his hands and give him warmth, but I must man the bridgeplate.
For it is The Legend that makes us real. I am the Chronicler. And after Sheba? There are big shoes to fill.
“So, you found yourself a bride, and you snared her with a spell. She would have been yours, but you had to put your condition on it. The Amatrix had to be in its female avatar.” James took one of Henry’s brushes from the dresser in the Royal Chamber, and was now brushing Rockford’s long black hair.
“Yes, I did that.” Rockford smiled with pleasure as James worked his head carefully.
“You snared me, and then you let me walk away. The unbridled bride.”
-15
“Yes. Marriage is a two-way street. I made an effort, and I wanted you to make an effort, too.”
“Right. Very smart.” Jim went to access his bridgeplate for archive footage. “I do not want to challenge you. I will never make that mistake again. But....
Stuff has to match in my head.
If it does not match,
Then I am being had.
And I only like that in bed, Mr. Rockford. So let’s go back to the timeline between your spell and today.”
“Ok.” Rockford responded calmly, as Jim carefully braided his hair and was putting a tie at the end.
-16
“Six months after I refused to join you, high on drugs, I broke into Dr. Michael’s house. He found out, he reported me. The matter was resolved privately, but I was suspended for 13 years. And then the Michael family was allowed to acquire 25% of Kellspell. Fast forward four years, and Dr. Michael drills a spiral staircase through my bedroom. And you step off it. What gives?
Did you send Dr. Michael to watch over me while you gave me time to think about the condition of the Rockford Engagement?
I also happen to have remembered that Lord Sedgefield’s apartment was dark and empty about A WEEK BEFORE Henry was taken by the medical personnel.
You know how I remembered? Dr. Michael never mentioned Lord Sedgefield among those who he asked about dinner the night I found Samantha behind the epilepsy stone.
-17
So, someone, somewhere KNEW A WEEK BEFORE that Henry was going to be found legally insane enough to take him off the show.
And I also know that it was not Sheba, or any of you who triggered Henry’s psychiatric evaluation and subsequent removal off the set.
It was Mr. August. He was the one who filed the complaint with my school. The Kumlatovs, then, took action. Mostly against Henry, even as our show’s ratings were through the roof thanks to our kerfuffles and pandemoniums.
I could never make that complaint go away, no matter what I said to Uri. And no matter what Prince Moretr said to Uri.
-18
The Kumlatovs were furious that Henry was selling tickets to Strobulus, and they also blamed Henry for our loss of Reddington as the mediator with MEOL Parliament.
And then there were many, who were appalled at ticket-selling frenzy Lord Carlton started.
Suddenly, there were too many legal arrows pointed at Henry.
It was time for us to wrap it up. I knew it. I must agree. If only for Sheba’s sake.”
“Thank you, James.”
-19
“Very well, Mr. Rockford. I am very happy with all this. You are a tremendously valuable Alpha. So, lastly. While you were on the way here, I signed the contract with Levin Corp. Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about money. I can survive on dog food. But i care about Aunt Demetra and Lady Lion. I feel responsible for the stuff that I sign. I do not want to hurt them. What is your spin on that, sir?”
“I have an answer, James.” Rockford wants to be attentive to every detail. “I take my words and actions seriously, too. Levin Corp has acquired both you and Lord Carlton. Now they are letting me use you until they need you.”
“Oh, whew. That solves a lot of issues for me.”
-20
“Some legal protector you are. You could not protect Carlton from the simplest of legal arrows - he was taken off the set because he was found legally incompetent!” Richard’s eyes are focused on James, and I get a thousand flashbacks where his eyes were just as focused on me.
“Yeah, about that.”
In my mind, the look of utmost guilt on Jim’s face is superimposed on Richard’s chilling stare.
“That was a low blow, Mr. Rockford.”
“Tell that to the gallows, Mr. Kellspell. “The prosecution gave me a low blow, that is why I lost the trial.” Richard takes a deep breath.
-21
“No violence. I promised her - no violence.” This is what is on his mind as he is grilling James.
I suddenly see Mr. Rockford’s data on the bridgeplate!
Where did that come from? Richard Rockford is one of the most secretive people I have ever met. He NEVER lets you know what he thinks. So, he would never let me into his mind, via bridgeplate or otherwise.
Wow... Let’s sit on it and tell no one for now, shall we?
“No, I mean...” Jim chuckles uncomfortably. “Low blow” in terms of doing it again! They already did that once! No one remembers, but Henry had already undergone a psychiatric evaluation about a month into his arrival to the set. And he was found to be legally incompetent!”
-22
“True.” I nod.
“I remember talking to “5 Minutes To Revelation”, and telling them that I will be charging for interviews, because I need to support my mentally ill spouse. For one, i needed to get an illusion panel to install another bedroom for Henry. I almost want to say “Sheba, do you remember that bit?”, but my Sheba is not here anymore.”
“Where does that take us?” Rockford got a hold of himself, and was now calm. At least on the surface.
“After Henry was found legally incompetent THE FIRST TIME, it did not stop our producers from retaining him. So I put that threat away. We already got slapped with that duck, and it did not kill us, so why should I worry?”
-23
“But, you did not save him in the end.”
“Sometimes there is only this much Johnny Cochran can do. That’s because the client has accomplished more than can be undone in one lifetime.
Henry was drunk on the freedom I gave him, and he challenged everyone in sight. In Henry’s mind he was the king of the hill now, because he was fucking the Prophet. He lit too many fires. He pissed off too many people, Mr. Rockford. Compound interest. It was only a matter of time before his insanity caused us the avalanche I would not be able to make go away.”
-24
“Karmic Hound”,
“I smell rotten protocols a mile away,
and I will help you restore them.”
Do you recognize this card of yours, Mr. Kellspell? The card with which you invited me here? Let’s see how good of a hound you are. I am going to open the door of my mind palace now, but only for one second. You tell me what you smell.”
And for one second, both froze and there was deadly silence in the bedroom, but for the birds outside.
Last year, the pines were covered in snow about this time.
This year, there is no winter on Strobulus. It is the perfect set many producers would die for. Lady Lion can order any weather she wants for this reality show.
-25
Then James spoke.
“This is what I smell. You are being burned alive by a passion. A deeply seated passion. It consumes your whole being. You learned to live with it, you put it in your work, and you put this passion into your art, but there is always way too much passion.
You are an artist. You can draw. But you are not letting me see the drawings. I want to see it. Your paintings.
Now, you are also a massive control freak. Like, big time.”
Mr. Rockford stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, like a granite statue.
-26
Jim’s statement went uncontested.
Kellspell took a breath, while I, again, focused on the sounds outside.
In the backyard, Mr. Milgram was trimming hedges.
“Craaack.... cri-i-ichhh...” The branches moaned under his shears.
“You experience tremendous amount of pain if someone in your family disregards what you say.”
James fell silent again.
“Scre-e-each... scra-a-ch...” The branches sang, twisted in Mr. Milgram’s mortal metal grip.
“You stand like a shadow over your wife’s shoulder making sure she does EXACTLY what you told her to do, and not a step without consulting you.”
-27
Rockford opened his eyes, and I saw how his pupils contracted and ran there and back, as if he was going through pages of the book that he alone could see.
I must admit, it is a shocking feeling when James tells you things you alone knew.
I watched him at my grave at Edgwarebury Cemetery in London.
He stood there, penetrating the book of life of a girl buried there, and he chuckled at her dreams.
Now Rockford was experiencing the same.
“Moreover, Mr. Rockford, if you notice that someone did something not EXACTLY like you asked them, you get the pain of the century, basically. And you can scream all you want, but it is not going away. You understand that it is not them, but you. Yet, you do not know what to do with this understanding.”
-28
Rockford said nothing, his face still a granite mask.
“And you are the youngest of nine children. That, by itself, is hell enough. At least from my perspective. It is a miracle that you managed to overcome your severe mental issues and actually succeeded in life.”
That was a borderline disrespectful way to put it. Cutting too deep, judging too much.
Another eternity passed before Rockford responded.
“I am a difficult patient, Mr. Kellspell.”
“I am used to difficult patients. Through God I heal his sheep.”
“Maybe you should let me go.”
“We signed our Covenant yesterday. And sex was good.”
-29
“So, what do you mean when you say “sex was good, Mr. Kellspell?”
“Remember I told you that Mr. Rockford was an artist? You know how I knew?
I had to come into his world as a woman. You remember the only condition of the Rockford Engagement.
And when I came on our first wedding night, he took me, and he drew me like a stick figure on a piece of paper. And I felt like I WAS THAT stick figure, glued to the paper, fully under his control.
“A stick figure? Is this all this artist capable of?” I already know the answer, but I’m just doing it for the sake of the audience.
-30
“Oh, but there is a reason as to why a talented artist like Mr. Rockford drew nothing but a stick figure.”
James makes a dramatic pause.
I know the answer. For i was that stick figure for Mr. Rockford so many times. We never had sex, it’s not that. But to him you are NOTHING BUT A STICK FIGURE. And he spends his whole life hiding his true nature and his dragon, and looking for ways to look normal.
But if you work with him long enough, that dragon sometimes comes out before Mr. Rockford can shove it back inside of himself.
And to that dragon you are nothing but a stick figure.
-31
“Yes, Wallace, a stick figure. At the end of the day it did not matter to Richard Rockford whether I was a male or a female. The stick figure which he was fucking was intentionally simplistic and genderless.
It’s not like Mr. Rockford could not draw a woman to put many other artists to shame. But sex to him - is all about control. And as long as I am under his control, and I let him pin me to them white sheets like a stick figure, I can keep my male genitals all day long. And the only time he wants me as a woman is when we are on public together. Easy-peasy! So, yes, my love, sex was good!”
James grabbed me by my hair and rubbed my head on both sides. In his mind he was still grabbing Hafnian’s ears. Those large hairy wolf ears.
-32
Jim took his teacher’s reassignment very hard. The only reason he is NOT rolling on the floor in crippling grief over losing his teacher, is because he knows that Hafnian is ok. He just wants his guys all to be ok.
Most of what he told me about Mr. Rockford I already knew. But, described by a psychic, the picture of my employer’s tortured mind became sharper, and therefore more chilling.
“So, how did you know he was an artist, if all he ever drew in front of you was a stick figure?”
“Oh, but I WAS that stick figure, Wallace. I also knew he was familiar with a pencil. It was in the way he thought for me to be, and to get positioned on the paper - and then he drew me in sharp motions of his pencil.”
-33
“What do you think he was telling you?”
“He was telling me, Wallace...” James thought for a second, looking inside of himself, going through his records. “He was telling me: I will re-draw you any way I want.”
He was telling me “You belong to me.” And “You are the figment of my imagination, therefore, my property. I control you fully. Lay here. Like this. Do not move until I tell you to move. And then only move the way I instruct you to move. Quality thinking. The best stuff.”
Kellspell fell silent and gave me an intentionally unfocused stare.
“This man can put Edgar Allan Poe to shame! The well, the pendulum, and all that jazz I used to love - Mr. Rockford here can do it all over again and better. You wanted a scary movie? Now you are a stick figure in front of a sexual maniac, as handsome as Mr. Rockford. Ummm... Can’t get enough of the scene.”
-34
James Kellspell, you son of a bitch.
Not just an all-seeing one, but also all-accepting.
“He raped you in his fantasies, then?”
“No, he raped me in real time on our first wedding night. That is why he is here, Wallace! He wants to be a good man, but he has this deep, all-consuming passion for control. He wishes he was not burned by it, but he does not know how to get rid of it. I can help. I can be his victim until he is tired of killing and re-drawing me in his mind. He is worth taking him to the Pearly Gates. You, too.”
Wow! The unstoppable karmic detective keeps on unraveling the rope with which we are tied to “our” ego.
“You are my hero, James! I love you. I am your huge fan! I am burning for you. I want to get naked in front of you!” I said all in one breath.
-35
NOW I feel like Sheba. A doctor’s nurse. It’s all about the patients. But when will the doctor pay attention to his faithful, and long-awaiting nurse Wallace?
Here we go. I asked for it.
“Talking about burning and stuff. Please, note, that we need to check on Kyle at least once in 12 hours. I must write my teacher. It will make him feel better. Also, today that pain I experienced in my small back shot all the way to my right shoulder blade. This is what Sheba could not take - I was sick all last winter. It is always “what will happen to the project if James croaks?”
“Noted.” I say, duly ashamed and put back where I belong.
-36
When we are working, we are not going to get distracted.
But when are we NOT working?
“Yes, and the pain is in my right shoulder blade, my Prince. It hurts when I cough. I know fear is a non-existent protocol, but what if...”
Moretr is seven light years away on the outer orbit of Strobulus. The connection interrupts. James turns to me.
“Wallace, these Russians are going to say: Solzhenitsyn survived in Gulag, and your ass could not survive in Florida. You are a shame to us, they will say. But these Russians are not in my skin. All day today - pain in my back. Last year I hurt my back fucking four hot omegas. This year I lost my omegas and just hurt my back... Old age is kicking in, Wallace!”
-37
I console him as much as I can. I wanted a challenging role? Sheba’s role Chronicler/Comforter is as challenging as it gets.
“I do not want to drink this stinky garbage bin of fear and worry the dumb ego-program will offer. “What if it is cancer?” Who gives a shit. Now I’ve got life insurance. My mother is all set if I kick the bucket. And God help Michael (not our Dr. Michael, another gentleman) who put his reputation on the line to get me the life insurance with low rates.”
Sheba would say: Wallace, do not let James push you around like he did to me. You are sixty and he is forty six. And he is complaining to YOU?”
Well, I say, that I can’t live without you, James. I will do anything for you. Including let you cry in my shoulder. I will put on my best, softest shirt. And for a person of my education, this description of services is pretty flat. But right now James got me worried about him. Maybe we should make an appointment to a doctor?
And that is how it starts. All last winter his pains were phantom pains. Non-existent, psychotic. But TO HIM they were real.
-38
“... and you were saying that Mr. Guinness was making $5000 a month selling his poorly written books on Amazon, Mr. Kellspell.”
“Yeah. And I said: I’d agree to $2000 a month. I would not ask for more! I would work just for the joy of knowing that people like my books.”
I take off my reading glasses to get a good look at my charge. He is agitated, unhappy. I can adjust the bridgeplate to have sharper edges between colors, but putting on my glasses to read is just a habit. It sets James off.
“See! Old age!” He growls hoarsely.
Normally, he laughs at the notion of old age. But it is gaining moon, early morning, Jim’s female avatar is on her period, AND he injected himself with the Poison of Comparison.
-39
I was instructed to interview him on his most painful issues at different times, and these times are the hardest for my Jim.
Can I call him “my Jim”? I like him any way he comes. I could be his father, but I could also be his mother.
James is high on his most favorite poison, COMPARISON. It is disgusting, it hurts our Father.
But James was sent here to isolate the sequence of every single ego-poison. So, now he took it just for the purpose of the research.
As per James, the protocol of GRUDGE comes from the COMPARISON hub.
Jim is in tremendous amount of pain right now. But he said he could handle it. He said “Father, I can do this. I will not fall into the pit of self-pity, high on the drug of comparison, but I will bring you it’s protocols for You to free us all from it!
-40
And he is trying. How much I want to suck that poison out of him, and spit it out. Save him from what destroys so many of us.
I have taken so much of it myself. But I never blamed anyone. And I tried not to hate anyone. But I could, I could.
“How old were you when you first knew that you needed glasses?” James turns the table and starts asking me questions. He is a beta. Instinctively he senses my weakness, and he goes for a strike.
I have no choice but to lay down. I am an omega. It is my nature.
“Oh, about fifty, or so.”
It is going to hurt so much.
-41
Now. He raises his eyes and looks through the walls of my mind castle (yes, mine is a castle, not “palace”), directly at the timeline of my life.
He is about to know everything I did when I was fifty.
“Please spare me, spare our relationship, James, get out of there... please!”
He hesitates on the edge of my memories. Wanting to jump into the ocean of me.
When I fall to my knees and cry.
“Wallace! Fuck!” Jim tries to pick me up, but I get tense. “What did you do at fifty that I can’t see?”
I am crying, and I am choking, maybe in self-defense, so that I do not have to answer his question.
-42
“Did you spend that year raping and pillaging, and realized that you needed glasses when you accidentally broke into your own house?”
Now the audience is laughing, while I am crying on my knees. This is James Kellspell for you. He loves comedy, even farce. His father told people jokes on his deathbed.
“What the fuck, man! I just wanted to see what were you reading at that time? Like, last winter I was fixing Sheba’s golden chain, when I could not see the links. They were bifurcating in my eyes! I was only fourty five! And I was like - what is going on?!
Wallace... jeez, get up. Will you listen? Will you stop sobbing? What happened, when you were fifty? I promise, I will never look into your mind castle again! But for the sake of the audience, you can’t keep them in perpetual suspense...
-43
Did you lose a loved one? Did you get sick? Did you do something you regret still? Because I know you as a good man. Even a better woman. While both of MY avatars have a checkered past, and, possibly a checkered future, yours are spotless. For the last time, Wallace, because I hate cheap cliffhangers, what happened when you were fifty?”
My life to him is a cheap cliffhanger. :)
“When I was fifty...” I took a deep breath, hating myself for the “cheap cliffhanger”. The reason I took a pause was because I could not talk. I was sobbing. “When I was fifty, I had a job.”
“U-huh.” Jim said.
He probably expected me to say “When I was fifty I was kidnapped by the aliens”, or, “When I was fifty I invented the Time Machine.” Or something like that.
-44
“And now that I’m sixty, nobody wants me anymore. Every employer I know has turned to drink from a stream of young blood.”
“Oh. Ok.”
“I know you are not heartless. You just have no idea what it means to be dropped by the world, because the world only and ever loves the young.”
“Well, Wallace, honey...” James kisses the bridge of my nose. Is what he used to do to Hafnian? “This is a pile of bullshit. You are burning yourself with a non-existent protocol. It is the EGO that loves the young. And the world does not exist.”
-45
“I did not see it because you would not let me!”
“You did not see it, because you were not paying attention, James.”
“It is very easy to fall into the grudge pattern. You can’t avoid it, because you do not know what you’re up against. And you are up against the ego-program that dictates you “to hold your own”. The Separation protocol.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith! Only love can outrun the “what is good for me” mentality. And I may be the “no good for you” guy...”
“Is this what Sheba used to say?”
-46
“Sheba will always be the beautiful woman I did not deserve.” James said somewhat defensively.
He’s been hearing the discussions in the Andromedan press, not all positive about his departed mate. There was talk that Sheba Of Salem “gave in to the “what is good for me” mentality, instead of following the postulates of love she was supposed to learn on the project.”
I dissuaded James from telling them “to fuck off”. What would the Queen of England do?” I tried to push him into the right avenue of thinking.
Do you blame yourself for losing your most hardworking mate Sheba because you were a pig and a savage? Start with moral inventory. Learn proper English. Pay attention to what your Arkchil Operator is telling you. Help me help you.
-47
“There is no room for fear, because I am drowning in love, and God will take care of everything.”
“So what do you think about Rockford?”
“Oh, fuck, this gangsta be cool! I dig the man!” James scratched his back against the open sliding door as he was smoking.
“Now, say that in British.”
“Ahem... Mr. Rockford is very attractive physically, and intellectually. I like him very much.”
“Thank you, James. Now why do you like him?”
-48
“He took me by force, that’s why.
You’ve got to respect that. AND you had to BE there when he said that IN FRONT OF Dr. Michael, Matushka, this really cool chick Kate....”
“James...”
“... this really beautiful woman Kate... And a few other people I will never forget.... Mr. Rockford looked at me and said: You will do. You conform to all my standards. Rejoice! I will take you as my wife.”
And I stood there, and I thought... If only it was “partner” instead of “wife”, I could be so yours, so yours.
For years afterwards, I regretted not entering the Rockford Engagement, Mr. Smith. I would jerk off to my memories of Richard Rockford, and I tried to bury all that.
-49
Why? Because the fucker was straight. A fatal mismatch. Other than that he was perfect, and an adept of the dark arts at that.
But then, almost two decades later, I did not see how his lean against me could harm Henry. And I never thought in my worst nightmares that Sheba would dig until she dug up the Rockford Engagement!”
Season 5
Chapter 124
-50
You should say THIS to the device
Before you listen to it’s dumb advice:
What date is it today, you stupid dictaphone? Silent? You don’t know? It is because you are not connected TO REALITY.
So, quit spitting out “advice” on how I should get hurt. It sounds like you are farting. Everyone hears that, and you look and sound very idiotic.
What was that, stupid machine? I should say mean things to hurt my husband because he hurt me?
You sound so moronic! Laughable! The reason he is mean to me is because YOU are MISINTERPRETING my behaviour to him.
He acts on rotten intel FROM YOU. And then you ADVISE ME to get back at him.
This is how my beloved man and I get hurt, while YOU sit there in the corner OUTSIDE of my hellish dream sequence, until you are triggered BY ME again to spit out the next pile of lies and poison.
Guess what, stupid machine. The wire that triggers you to give me ALWAYS WRONG advice meant to separate, and not unite - Father has unplugged THIS MORNING.
You no longer have any control of me.
What was that, stupid machine? I can’t hear anything you are mumbling.
Father has unplugged me from you. And He put a lid on you.
I am WITH HIM now FOREVER.
He will give me LOVE, HEALTH, WARMTH, LIGHT.
Something I could never have with the dumb robot.
It’s over!
The rule of the machine over my mind is OVER!
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
SEASON 5: SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
CHAPTER 123 (beginning at 119)
Arkchil Channel Operator: Wallace Smith
“I DO NOT WANT YOU FOR ONE NIGHT.
I WANT YOU FOR EVER.”
“Do not ever doubt my feelings for you.”
Richard Rockford to James Kellspell
“I will come for you.”
“When will you come for me?”
“When you are ready for me.”
This conversation was played on the large bridgeplate behind us.
This is when James saw me leaning to Rockford for Instructions.
“I thought you served Henry?!” James exclaimed, struggling to stay awake.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“I serve both.” And I showed him my affiliation card. For those who are not in the know, my card would be crossed diagonally by a black line, one side is blue, and the other is red. More on that later.
“Samantha is a double agent!” Jim whispered and passed out.
“Sheba could have told you that.” I said, making sure his body lays comfortably. “But you never listened to her.”
“Tell me more. There is no need to be shy.” Rockford stands behind James on the chair in NOW OUR bedroom.
This time James is not handcuffed to that chair.
“So, Sheba had this crazy idea that Henry might have usurped his right to have me. I might have “other men in line”, she said. “I will find a way to save you legally.” She added. Bullshit, I said... Mr. Smith, how to say “bullshit” in British?”
“It’s “rubbish”, Mr. Kellspell.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. So, I said, rubbish, bitches. This ain’t happenin’. No one is going to take my Henry away. And I forgot all about it. But Sheba continued to dig...”
“What did she uncover, Mr. Kellspell?” Rockford knelt on the floor by Jim, took his hand, and kissed it.
James jerked, as if he was hit by electricity.
“Wow, Mr. Rockford... What an Alpha...” James stretched his neck to get a whiff of Rockford’s hair. “Yeah... And then one day she finally caught me, like, literally with my pants down, and it was during those events, when they fired David Reddington. She caught me with what she uncovered, even as her poor little heart was breaking over what she did to David.”
James falls silent, and I rub his shoulders for encouragement.
“But I was not mentally there at all, I was not listening to any news about our project.” He continued. “I was looking for my best pants to impress Henry, and he was outside, looking at his wrist watch, walking there and back, even as there was still 49 minutes until they sent for us. But you must know Henry, he is all there to create suspense. And he did... I was freaking out, I could not find the fitting pants, and...”
I whisper into Jim’s ear and he gives out an “ohhh!”
“I’m being told to wrap it up and answer the question. But I get carried away about Henry. I was so honored to have worked with him, you guys have no idea! Henry is totally cool. Hot body, good looks, yes, and intelligence... Oh, I get so hard just thinking about him...”
I’m prompted to get James back on track again.
“Yes, Mr. Smith, of course. So, anyway, I’m searching for the fitting pants, and Sheba comes with some papers, and she says “what was the condition on your Engagement with Richard Rockford?” I forgot all about it, so I was like, WHA-A-aa? My ENGAGEMENT with who now?! Mr. Smith, how to say “I was like whaaa” in British?”
“There is more than one way, but you could say “I was shaken to the core.” I pat him on the shoulder, encouraging his effort to use proper English.
“That works. So, I was totally shocked to my fucking core, as she went on with “Rockford is a qualified Alpha, James, blah blah... He can take you down like Mohammad Ali.”
We must work more on our proper English :)
“So, what did Sheba uncover after much digging in your Arkchil Record?” Mr. Rockford chuckles into Jim’s hand.
“Yeah, I was getting to that, Mr. Rockford.” James smiles and his eyes are filled with little sunny sparkles. “I turn around, I face my mate Sheba, and I say, erhm... I say, my friend, Rockford is a STRAIGHT Alpha. And that’s not “ketsat” for me, Sheba.”
“But WHAT did she uncover?” I insist on keeping him on track.
“Oh!” James scratches my stomach to calm me down. Then he gets up from the chair just enough to scratch me behind my ear to reward me. I am his new omega, and his last omega was a wolf.
“She uncovered that I WAS ENGAGED with an Alpha of VERY high standing. Fourteen years ago.” James made a dramatic pause for the audience. “This gentleman really liked me and cast a spell on me, basically, during one function that I attended with Dr. Michael and Matushka.”
I look down at Rockford.
“I did, I did!” Rockford gets up and spreads his hands. I lost my bride, I needed another, there comes this gorgeous...”
“Yeah, yeah! Mr. Rockford said all that to me.” James said that while looking into Rockford’s eyes. “I am not a stranger to casual sex. Spell or no spell, you are a powerhouse of an Alpha, a wealthy economist, brain, brawn, expensive suits, long black hair in a ponytail. You smell like three million dollars a year and you undressed me with your eyes. I mean, fuck, 50 Shades Of Gray. You know, I just thought, this is what a dog would have named it. Hafnian would have named his story like that. Because “gray” was all he saw after he DeVo’ed....”
“James.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith, thank you. My mind runs in circles... It runs fast, sorry. I can’t control my mind... I can’t control my moods... I said “Just do me.” And he said “No. I don’t want you for one night. I want you for ever. With this spell I engage you. But you can only become mine if you follow through with one condition: I want you in your female avatar.”
James fell silent, and Rockford nodded slowly, somewhat painfully. “There comes this gorgeous WOMAN. And I want to give her what I can, and what I believe she deserves. I name her my bride, but she is not ready to join me. And she does not see that I will never forget her, and I will never stop lusting after her.”
“Sheba found all this in my Arkchil Record, and she was pestering me with that.”
James made a dismissive gesture.
“i said - forget about it. First, I will never engage an Alpha against an omega. Henry would have no chance. And second, maybe all this is true, and deep down inside I regretted a thousand times that I was a gay man, but I made my mind and I was not going to use my female avatar. It was that simple.”
James took a breath, and I offered him strong tea with a lot of sugar. Richard asked James to stop drinking altogether. James agreed.
Every now and then Rockford pours him a glass of wine in the evening. That’s about it.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. But even if I just gave in to Rockford’s pressure, what do you expect me to do with the Covenant I ALREADY signed with Henry?!
Thirdly, but not lastly, seriously, people, get off my back about that, I said. I don’t care if Rockford built his own Stairway To Heaven, together with the highest grade Alphas my ass can only dream of, I will not consent to that condition, and you, Sheba, should know better than diggin’ in that old pile.
If there were any papers there that could harm Henry’s status, I would have already burned them, I told her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I told that to her directly. That night at the Rubinstein Compound we had the unpleasant exchange of our lives, I admit. And I regret the stuff I said to her. For, not even two weeks later... My Sheba was right about Henry. And MY SHEBA WAS GONE.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I said: please let this train run. Henry and I are not planning on stopping, all the way to the gallows. The Rockford Engagement is unenforceable, so drop it once and for all, girl, I said.
Two weeks later.... Only two weeks later...”
Jim breaks down, cries into his hands, most bitterly. Then, with cameras still rolling, he knows he needs to pull himself together.
“She finally figured out that Henry and I made this team airtight on purpose. So no other contender could get in. But, of course, all that was against the rules. It was only a matter of time before Sheba found a way to stop our insane fall into a complete rogue spin.”
“What happened between you and Rockford fourteen years ago?” I try to help James get focused again.
“As for Mr. Rockford,” James brightened up. “He, basically, engaged me on the spot, and I was very flattered. He said - I must have you! You are my bride! And I was like - you are my PERFECT Alpha! Where have you been this whole time?!
But his ONE condition was unacceptable. So, I cried over that, and I gave him an invitation to visit me. Just in case if he gives in first and removes his condition.”
“Is it true that you “forgot all about it”? Rockford whispers into Jim’s ear.
“Well...” Kellspell squirmed and laughed quietly. “Deep down inside I never forgot you. How could I? The way you just claimed me like that? This kind of courtship is the stuff of legend.
Your bold move was totally marvelous. But you wanted the impossible. At the time I considered this one condition to be an offense, trespassing on what I saw as my “property”.
You WERE my perfect Alpha, but you were straight. That is why I saw your engagement as toothless. That’s the level on which I forgot about it.
There was firm internal understanding that our prior engagement could never hurt my relationship with Henry Carlton.
Your move was bold, but it was not the only one.
I also had other engagements, Mr. Rockford. On this Earth I exchanged rings with many women. But that was in another lifetime, and these women will not claim me until we all are past the Pearly Gates.
So, those engagements were not a threat to Henry either. See, I’m trying to tell you that I was on the look out for stuff Sheba was doing, and I had to protect my vulnerable underbelly.
But last night my “vulnerable underbelly” was taken to the mental institution for his own good, and from there - to another project. And it will be a few hours before we both cool off enough to see each other again.
And you are here, ready to take me. The producers had to drop three of my mates for you to be here.”
This is where James bent over and grabbed himself right under his rib, on his right side.
“That is why I am, basically, begging you for mercy. I thought I left you behind, but you ran after me for fourteen years. Well, heck, Mr. Rockford, if you want me that much... I will be yours, but the condition is really breaking my balls. Literally.
And I am not in the position to bargain... You are, like, ten times my strength and twenty times my knowledge of the force.
But...” he grabbed his rib cage again. “Is there a way we can meet in the middle?
Because Henry gave me this awesome omega, and if you turn me into a girl, I will be just rubbing his butt with my knee. The point is....
(laughter in the audience)
“Oh, come on! Who is laughing? Fuck you, bitches. They think it’s funny! So, half-man, half-horse is ok, half-woman, half-fish is ok, too! But half-woman, half-man is funny?”
{the laughing now has a lot more voices in it, and they are all louder}.
Mr. Rockford is laughing, too. That alone tells James that Rockford suffered at least as much as he did.
I get back to working the channel. Sheba’s bridgeplate shows unbelievable amount of information. It actually gives me the “translation”, or a breakdown of what is going on inside of Jim’s head at any given time based on many, many parameters. But nobody taught her to use it, basically. One of the reasons she lost hope in the project - everyone was doing their thing, and she was left to her devices.
One of Sheba’s last records: “My moral compass is decomposing in the acidic, violent environment created by Lord Henry Carlton and Mr. James Kellspell.”
I could say “I can’t imagine what she’s been through”, but I can. I have been watching the show for a while before the immersion.
It’s still hard to imagine. When I came in the first time two months ago, there was blood on the walls in Jim and Sheba’s bedroom. Jim’s blood from all the beatings.
I wanted a challenging role in the show, and I got it. I am a double agent. I work both for Henry AND Mr. Rockford, God bless his most loving soul. He helped me out more than once out of tough financial situations.
All this is very embarrassing to admit.
They are going to say that Wallace Smith sold himself out on both sides.
But THEY don’t know me.
Ten minutes until our new episode is aired all across Andromeda. It starts with Jim’s interview to St. Merelion’s Broadcasting station of Mesmerix planet.
I am excited and I am terrified. But not James. He is not terrified at all. He can barely hold himself back. He is going to talk to his friends from Mesmerix, Lar-Mur Constellation, Kloritahan System.
Nine minutes.
I can’t be terrified. “Terrified” means “distrustful of God’s help”. I can’t exercise that protocol. James holds me high as an example of faithfulness.
He did say that BEFORE he learned that I was a double agent.
Eight minutes.
James talks to aliens every day.
But THIS is MY FIRST communication with another civilization.
My whole life just flashed in front of my mind’s eye. Everything that happened, and, finally, my perfect role. To serve my young Prophet. To unite with him, to prepare him for his role, and remain by his side forever.
Seven minutes.
I forgot my lines.
Six minutes.
I HAVE NO lines. I am Reg. Kellspell’s custodian, keeper, protector, and Personal Arkchil Operator. I took over from Sheba. I will never forget the price she paid for the peace on this project, and I will exercise caution at all times in the name of preserving this peace.
Five minutes.
James, looking at formerly Sheba’s, and now my bridgeplate: “Hey, you can spell “exercise” like a pro! No foreigner that I know can write this English word correctly! You da man!”
Four minutes.
I am from Sydney, Australia. English is my native language. In addition to that I do hold a degree.
James is easy to please. If nothing else, I can always amuse him with proper English. He has faith that I can spell “exercise” correctly.
And that just “cracks me up” :).
Three minutes.
Our Prophet and the inventor of Ar-Snap is sweet, naive, and very gullible.
Two minutes.
He will be talking with Estelians {a breed of humans}, who run the show “With The Prophet”.
One minute.
We are live.
“Black Hexagon of St. Merelion Of Lar-Mur Broadcasting & Archives via Arkchil Network, Mesmerix planet, Kloritahan System, Lar-Mur, AF. Good afternoon, Project Emerald Filament.” A light Estelian voice says via more than one level-equalizer.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Why more than one level equalizer? First, they do not have vocal chords, and then every notion you ever had needs to be expanded and turned, and twisted to be understood. Like their weather, for example. Their weather is generated by a conscious gas called tetrahydrofuran. An abiogenetic entity. The gas is called “Ri-Fi” by the local Grehedis and their humans. Translate THAT into a human notion without a level equalizer.
“Dear Project Emerald Filament, we here are aware of your legal issues on MEOL, Magellanic Cloud 17, AF. Your official was removed on corruption charges. Far be it from us to read you a lecture. Is Regent Kellspell there?”
That was painful. This is where your sense of propriety should cause you a lot of shame.
“Thank you for not lecturing us.” Mr. Rockford says into the bridgeplate.
“Hey, you guys!” James is unstoppable, for he is innocent and unhinged. He has no sense of propriety, or any shame for that matter. Sheba was so right. I have an uphill battle with my charge.
“You need to be introduced by the host first, James.” Let’s not forget my function. My function is to be his teacher. I am here to teach him plenty of things, including manners.
“Yes, Mr. Smith!” He responds breathlessly. He is no longer interested in what his ego has to say. He is all into loyalty now. Ego does not teach you any loyalty but to itself. But God is a whole another matter.
“Regent James Kellspell.” Mr. Rockford finally says, after watching Lady Lion two tables away from us, giving him signs, while monitoring her own bridgeplate.
“St. Merellion Broadcasting! I miss news from Mesmerix so much!!! What is the weather like today?”
“85 mph winds down at the canyon and clouds of Ri-Fi gas around every Hexagon here on Ochawar Territories.” A lilting Estelian voice responded.
They can see us via Arkchil Network, but we cannot.
“Thank you for your unbelievable support, you guys! I can’t drop names, but Uri Kumlatov is totally happy with your care package!”
“James!” I interrupt him. “My goodness, some spy you are!”
“Oh!” James is now freaked out.
“It’s ok, sir.” The same lilting voice responds. “Everyone understands human limitations, that is why our channel is via Arkchil Network. We are protected. Thank you for your concern, sir.”
Right. They know that they are dealing with seven year olds. So they brought us to a padded room :).
“Anyway...” Jim darkens. “This LS month was just crazy. I lost three mates. Three of my omegas were taken off the set. I lost Hafnian, bless his hairy butt. Boy, am I going to miss his tobacco-smelling whiskers... Two weeks later I lost Sheba. I beat myself up so. I should have paid more attention to her instead of being so selfishly involved elsewhere. And three days ago...” He made a pause. “I lost Henry.”
“Personnel B Estelian, Sapphire Radman, please tell us more about Lord Henry Carlton. We are big fans here!”
“Oh, you guys! You are of the Radman bloodline! Very famous. Big fan of your owners’ show!”
“Thank you, sir. Four of my forefathers served the Radmans. Estelian Pride, sir. Happy and pleasing!”
“Happy and pleasing, yes! I will tell you all about Henry. But listen, this is scientifically important. I had a nightmare in which we missed my mother at the Pearly Gates, and she was flushed down and re-incarnated. So, she writes me from somewhere millions light years farther than Andromeda.
She writes: “Today at school we studied element 134 of the Periodic Table.”
I respond: “There are only 118 elements.”
My mother: “Here there are 357.”
This is where my heart fell, people!
My mother, meanwhile, continued: “Yesterday I got a message from this girl. Her civilization knows 403 elements, and these people are even in more pain and darkness than us.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I woke up, and I was happy that it was only a dream, but my bridgeplate GLOWED RED! My friendly listeners of St. Merelion’s station!! Those on the cold outskirts of the Universe need the Relay of the Original Source!
It is upon us to start the chain reaction that will pull the Broken Vase together! Let’s slow down the expansion of the Universe!”
“Yes! Regent James Kellspell from Emerald Filament Team, everyone! Thank you for this amazing speech to lift up our darkening hearts!”
“Mr. Rockford, please take me. I will fulfill your one condition, and your Engagement can be enforced. I want to be yours. I have no one else to turn to. In less than a month I lost three out of four of my omegas, and Kyle is as good as dead, for he has been kept on horse tranquilizers since they took “his” Henry. Way to hunt, sir. Excellent patience. Fourteen years. But you’ve got me.”
“It would have been even more “excellent” if Lord Carlton had not used Prima Nocta on my bride. And the only reason he did it was because you gave him the keys to your beta-protocols.”
“You realize I had no idea you were coming? Mr. Rockford, I thought I had put your brave Engagement away when I refused to follow through on your one condition.”
“Then what happened?” Rockford advanced.
“Then I was mated to Lord Carlton’s messenger, that’s what “happened”. By Melekh himself. This link checks out as kosher, then. So, whatever happened, Mr. Rockford, it happened ON YOUR SIDE.”
Rockford is silent. He is looking through his cards. One of them, or both, will have to take responsibility for fourteen years of a delay.
James is secure in the knowledge that he has been following The Covenant ever since he surrendered. Every single one of his mates since then had been approved.
“I would not have given Henry anything, unless I was sure that he was “pre-selected” and our connection does not hurt anyone. And you were five hours late to that event. So, whatever kept you, Mr. Rockford, it was “your” ego’s business. And I’m not the one to lecture you on that.”
It is upon Rockford now to respond.
But he gets up and leaves the bedroom.
Plenty of things have happened on these premises.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A lot of blood was shed. In fact, so much so this whole bedroom had to be scrapped, and a new illusion panel installed. This one encompasses the spiral staircase from the Michael apartment. The needle that pierced the festering wound to make everyone involved feel better.
So many things happened here. But for one. No one has ever walked out on James before.
They may have been reassigned.
They had to collapse to be taken out.
They may have been ordered out by the producers.
But they never walked out on James.
So, that left him speechless.
It was 6:20 am in the morning, too. Both James and Richard get up early.
“Wallace, how long have you worked for Richard Rockford?” James finally turns to me.
He knows he made a mistake, and he is trying to retrace his steps and analyze his path.
“I can’t tell you anything anymore, James. I opened up to you, and you cross-referenced me all the way to Samantha Wallace’s gravestone. Now you know everything about me.”
I wanted a challenging role. Yes, this is what I wanted. Kellspell is grilling the heck out of me. And I can’t give in.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“No, Wallace, I do not know “everything” about you. All I know is you lived in London at the end of the 1800s, you dreamt to be a Queen of England and ride around in a horse-drawn carriage (what kind of a silly girly dream is that? I laughed my ass off at your grave!) You were a skinny redhead just out of your teens, and you killed yourself. Oh, and you were a virgin.”
Now, when he gutted you completely, and laughed at your helpless insides, YOU try working with James Kellspell.
But I wanted a challenging role. No whining now. How do I give him a hint?
“What is the right question, James?” I press on.
“Where is my Hafnian?”
“No.”
“How could I be such a selfish pig towards Sheba?”
“A good one, but no.”
“Will I ever see my Henry again?”
“You will, but still not the right question.”
“How is it possible that I have been through three men in five years and I lost all of them?”
“No.”
“How can it be that Rockford has enforced the Engagement, came over here, made me enter my female avatar, had sex with me in that avatar, but has not set a date for signing of the Covenant? And you want me to be calm, when I have been sitting by a revolving door of boyfriends?”
“I need you to be patient. And the right question is WHY Mr. Rockford walked out on you, and WHEN is he going to be back.”
“He walked out on me because I chased him into the corner?”
“Yes, James, and why?”
“Because he went after me for my liaison with Henry Carlton?”
“No. Mr. Rockford walked out because you lost your respect for him. You forgot who he is to you. He will be back when you get your memory back.”
“My memory?! Wallace, what is going on?”
“He came to enforce Rockford Engagement. You were happy to see him. You asked him if you guys could “meet in the middle” as far as the one condition of the Engagement. He said yes. You will be a woman for him, but you get to keep your dick, so you and I could be together, too. You got everything you wanted out of the deal, and sex was awesome.”
“Wallace...”
“Hold on, James. You gave me your side, I am giving you the truth. Rockford did everything you asked him to, but come one morning on a rising moon and you are mean to him.”
“He started it!”
“You were not supposed to use his comments as a spring board into a conflict! Your impatience and insecurity triggers your bipolar disorder which makes you unstable and inconsistent. And on top of that you “laughed your ass off” standing over a grave of a 23 year old, who killed herself.”
Kellspell is silent for a while, sitting on the bed, squeezing the blanket on which Wolf Hafnian slept. It is his “comfort blanket”.
It is his most valuable possession here. But he would give it to me, so I could “park” my body on it comfortably, while I’m out of it.
He’s got a heart of gold. He just needs to break every connection to the ego. He has four more hours until we reach the Pearly Gates.
“So, as I told everyone, Henry was right about me, then.” James sighed. “Mr. Rockford should come back and whip the living crap out of me, like Henry would.”
The bridgeplate showed his thought process that included “how did I allow myself to be so full of shit with Rockford?” And “Samantha is right, but how do I go back?”
Let’s replace “full of shit” with “prideful”, and he is good to go.
“Mr. Rockford said no more violence. You want to clean up this show? Then you watch yourself. As for your insecurities, he is going to marry you tomorrow.”
You should have seen Kellspell’s face.
“Yesss!!!” He cried out as much as his hoarse voice would allow. “Stability!”
With that, James jumped up and ran out after Mr. Rockford.
Whew. Adhere to the protocols, Sheba told me. Just follow the rules and make James follow them, too.
Now Mr. Rockford has new rules for us.
{To copy into pics}
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
SHEPHERD’S APPRENTICE
CHAPTER 122 (File started at 119)
Dog of God
“If he tasted you first, he would have never chosen me.”
Lord Henry Carlton to Richard Rockford
“You can’t control him. You know it. Why you can’t control him? You lay down, that’s why. And you can’t play drums when you were born to play fiddle. He needs a real Alpha. And so do you. You created high turbulence. You lost a team member due to that high turbulence. Let me in, and I will bring stability.”
Richard Rockford to Lord Henry Carlton
“What is going on, Wallace? Where is Rockford?”
“Everything is ready, Henry. We brought in Mr. Rockford to be Jim’s Arkchil Channel Operator 2. He is here.”
“I guess it was only a matter of time before he caught up with me.”
“What? Henry, what are you talking about?”
“You darn well knew what you were doing, Wallace! You sneaked him in!”
“You knew what you were doing, Henry, when you sneaked ME in. You wanted me to help you control James. I have done so.”
“Fine. Enough of this. Mr. Rockford, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Lord Carlton. My name is Richard Rockford, and I am here via Regent James Kellspell’s personal invitation of {date removed due to censorship issues} yaseremshan pritemir.
That was fourteen years ago, yes. But his invitation for me to visit his house had no expiration date. Based on that, Mr. Kellspell has honored his invitation two hours ago. I also could be here via a “Demetra Visa” through Dr. Hugh Michael, if needed be. And I have a personal recommendation from you, Mr. Wallace Smith, because we worked together. This should be enough of a reason for me to be here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rockford. Do you understand your duties as Regent Jim Kellspell’s Personal Arkchil Operator 2?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith.”
“Thank you, sir. Please, take your place by Mr. Kellspell’s right.”
The introduction went pretty civil. Mostly because Henry and I did our best to REMAIN civil for the sake of James.
“I’m going to need some of your help, Wallace. I know Sheba showed you around this device, this bridgeplate, and you know more than me.”
“Yes, Mr. Rockford. The narration can be initiated by running your finger across the right edge of this bridgeplate. It PICKS UP YOUR THOUGHTS. Think of what you want written. The text will run in the middle.
There is a poem-weaving app
that will keep on popping up.
See, it creates lyrics all by itself, out of your writings. Sheba found that annoying, and I have not had a chance to use it at all, but Jim finds it amusing.
Hold on, Jim is crying, because he misses Sheba. And for the love of God, Mr. Rockford, whatever you do, do not criticize Lord Carlton. James will not see it your way, and it will create a crevasse between you. Sheba fell into that crevasse. Whatever you see, please remember that they are both of consenting age, and that should motivate you to stay calm and understanding.”
Calm and understanding. I MUST stay calm and understanding. I know it. I entered a very seismically active zone and I am not going to make it even worse, just because I have not learned to control myself.
James is also understanding. He does not know half of it, that is why he is calm and understanding. He does not know it yet, that I am his LONG-LOST ALPHA. And he was INTERCEPTED before I could reach him.
Regent James Kellspell:
“Here are all of my protocols, Mr. Rockford. I will take whatever steps necessary to make you comfortable in your role as my guide. I will not challenge you, I will not test you, for all this is of the ego, and I do not care to dance to “my” ego’s tune.
I will also not ask you if you have suffered more than me. NORMALLY I would. I have a problem with the chosen fat cats who got everything in life easy, while I was struggling so alone, so incredibly, for so long.
If only I had tutorship, as so many of you, I could have reached my potential. But I spent my life picking up stray sheep, because their desperate bleating was triggering my instinct. Somehow saving the stupid meant more to me than saving myself.
However, I have put all the regret behind me when I surrendered four years ago. I will never be alone again, and I will not be struggling any more. So, why bring it up.
I also understand that you were my long-lost Alpha. But stuff happened and Henry obtained me by fraud. Now I see why he would always try to butter up Sheba. Sheba was the perfect shield for Henry. She was aggressive, but clueless.
Well, she actually was not clueless. She always wondered why i got such an “unfitting partner”, as Henry. She barked up the right tree, but the badger was way higher than she thought.
I honestly did not even know THERE WAS a “badger”. Meaning “another partner”. I was happy with Henry. Tremendously stressed, but very happy.
You feel totally different than Henry. Henry and I were on a ship that was sinking during an earthquake. And, suddenly, the madness is over and we are standing on the solid ground of what is right and what is wrong, and that is your opinion, Mr. Rockford. We accept you as our long-awaited Alpha.
That being said, I have already signed the Covenant with Henry via Wolf Hafnian. I was mated to Wolf Hafnian by Melekh Shel Zahav Himself, one year after I surrendered. That link is kosher. The connection was made legit all the way up, and I am very happy with what it brought.
Even as Sheba had to pay a high price for staying faithful to me. She knew someone had to drop out to make room for you.
In other words if you want me, you must also take everyone I signed the Covenant with in these last fateful four hours.
All of this drama distracts us from our real goal: to put together the Key to the Pearly Gates. You have brought a large chunk of it. Thank you for that, let’s work to see how it fits.”
Wow. He is feisty, and full of energy, my long-lost beta. I must quickly get used to the fact that Jim is psychic, and he analyzes the incoming picture with that in mind.
He already knows what would have otherwise broken his heart. Not just Sheba alone, but another person is here to tell him that he was deceived by Lord Carlton.
The ability to hear from afar gives James precious time to adjust and regroup.
And so it begins. Season 5 of Kellspell Team Saga. I can talk all day about how long my road here was, and what I had to go through to get here.
And I will tell my story. You just wait.
I am going to let James talk first, though.
“See, I don’t know, Mr. Rockford. Maybe the reason we are in pain is because we are stupid, conceited and transgendered. This is protected, right? This rant is not for public use. Maybe, just MAYBE some straight person with an IQ just above mine and an attention span to match, could totally make it in life and not feel like St. Sebastian.”
He refers to the painting “Martyrdom of St. Sebastian” by II Sodoma, c. 1525.
“But it is too late for me. The transgendered is in charge of the stupid and the conceited. I am a beta. A beta is a shepherd’s dog. A shepherd’s dog hears bleating, and he runs into the bushes to find Hafnian, Henry, Sheba, Kyle Merritt, oh, and Mr. Smith, a man of many talents, but forever crippled by the same crap as me.
Surely, I’d take an arrow for them.
ALL OMEGAS. A shepherd’s dog is a hell of a job, but it has its moments. I have been in fuzzy omega Heaven ever since. Henry wanted me so much, he went across six lanes of traffic for me, basically. It’s a huge compliment that elevated my self-esteem to heights unbelievable.
But now the dog is stuck in the bushes, too. I can’t leave my sheep. Be they either too stupid, too conceited, and, to my surprise, sometimes “too transgendered” to find their own way Home.
Then, my Operator drops out, because I rode ‘er too hard. Leaving me on the floor, with a hole in my heart.
In the pandemonium that followed, my Wallace The Solace suggested you as my new Arkchil Channel Operator. Wallace swears by you, Mr. Rockford.
But Wallace is very soft-spoken. He never swears. He is always so hot for me. He wants to get naked with me! And he worships Henry just as much as me. He thinks Henry is the best thing since sliced bread, and he is here to train me to Henry’s liking! My omegas! My sweet Garden of Omegas!”
Wallace worships Henry, because Henry gave Wallace a job. It is really hard fo find a job at sixty years of age.
James gets distracted from our interview to nuzzle with Smith. Smith lets James kiss and caress him. Both are thinking of new ways of making Henry Carlton happy.
A short-circuit in the system.
Instead of that, we all should be making God happy.
I wake up because James sniffs my face. “My long-lost Alpha...” He whispers quietly, getting high on my scent. “Fourteen hours... Fourteen hours since I sent you my invitation... I waited for you for fourteen hours. Worth every minute!”
I lay with my eyes closed, but it is no use. James can sense the difference between a sleeping and a waking mind. He knows I woke up.
“Good morning, my Duke Of Albury...” He mumbles into my ear.
Wallace wakes up to the left of Jim, where Hafnian used to sleep. “Who is Duke of Albury?” His morning voice is broken and hoarse.
“Oh, Wallace....” James can’t help but react to his new omega. Wallace IS his solace after Jim lost two of his mates in one week.
But here on the Strobulus the news are always good.
“So cute, Samantha, so cute!” James sniffs and kisses Smith’s face and then buries his nose in Smith’s thick chest hair, making deep-throated satisfied and happy noises.
Smith lays there passively, and a tear runs out of his tightly closed eye, giving out one bright spark in the morning light before getting soaked into the pillow.
Wallace can’t believe he reached his destined beta. He surrendered to James three days ago on Valentine’s Day. They are an item forever now.
I get up, get dressed, and start working Sheba’s bridgeplate.
So, Henry Carlton stole my bride Marishka, using her own beta-protocols to subdue her. So, I found my bride raped and ravaged by the time I caught up with the thief.
But here on the Strobulus, only four hours away from the Pearly Gates, the news are only and ever good.
My bride survived, prospered, and managed to hold on to all the lost suckers that hurt her. “Jesus needs ALL souls.”
Carlton is a an omega. And a godless omega at that. He will never find his way Home without James.
God needs ALL souls.
James is a faithful shepherd’s dog of God.
I must not make Sheba’s mistake. I am to unite with Lord Carlton and become one with him. I bend my pride, everyone who is with me will get through the Pearly Gates.
I make Sheba’s mistake and start fighting with Henry, and it is going to devastate James, and reduce my followers’ chances of being saved.
I do want to beat Carlton bloody, just so that you know, and for the record.
I will only say it once to get it out of my system. For we will have no more violence.
Wallace Smith did everything he could to revive the subject of the “Lost Alpha” with James.
Sheba Of Salem sacrificed herself so that I could get onboard of the most air-tight group ever.
All that to stop the violence and bring peace and stability into the Emerald Filament Team.
I am going to draft my Covenant with Henry Carlton, and I will take him.
If I want to be a true leader of this team, I have to accept the man who ravaged my bride.
If you want to have your bride,
Then abandon all your pride.
Here is the poem-weaving app kicking in. How cute is that?
James is watching me doing this record on Sheba’s bridgeplate, while still in bed. He misses Sheba, but now he knows that a lot of sacrifices had to be made for me to come in.
Thanks to that, now he has his long-awaited Alpha.
There is a few books’ worth on what happened to me during these last 14 hours. There will be time for that.
It is not the time to reminisce.
It is not the time to fight.
Now is the time to love.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
“HERE COMES MY MARTYRDOM!”
CHAPTER 121 (this file started at 119)
The Vessel Of Humility
And what it means to an omega
Or
The Night The Earthquake
Shook The City
“Love dies when you start defending your boundaries.”
Wallace Smith to Jim Kellspell
“Wallace, you are my solace!”
Jim Kellspell to Wallace Smith
Here are some pieces I picked up as I was looking through miles of tape, basically. Hours of footage and audio recording from all of our channels. Enough to drive you up the wall. I had to do THAT while MY David was in OUR newly illusion-paneled ROOM, drinking BY HIMSELF.
“I was chosen by my employer to teach you what humility is, James.” Wallace said that YESTERDAY.
“You owe me, Samantha! Here, train him for me!” And THIS I lifted from Lord Carlton’s channel (legally, via James).
THIS was the last thing I looked at before I decided to go to the cafeteria, because I got hungry, but Jim and Wallace were involved in their own thing.
Jim was regressing Wallace into his childhood epilepsy attacks.
OF ALL THINGS you’d ever want to be regressed into...
“You owe me, Samantha.” THIS PIECE OF INTEL, mentioning “Samantha”, was worth its weight in gold, but I was too hungry to dig further.
I wanted to know who “Samantha” was, and who was it that Carlton wanted her to train, but then my thoughts switched to David, and I just wanted everything to disappear, so that there would be no obstacles between ME AND DAVID.
I longed to be in his embrace, to share my day with HIM. I tried to forget him for years, and now that he was within my reach, I just wanted to have my St. Valentine. My unexpected gift.
But I needed to be back to work.
I went to the cafeteria, there was no schnitzel, so I got turkey sandwiches. The favorite of Hafnian.
Out of momentum I continue to get stuff Hafnian liked, even as he is no longer here. We shared everything, and please do not order the fruit salad Jim’s teacher would not eat... Live as one organism, eat as one organism.
I was gone for twenty minutes.
On the way back I was met by Dr. Michael, who said that Matushka wanted a spiral staircase, a lobby, and some plants downstairs.
What? There is no room for any of that downstairs!
Not so, says Andromedan technology.
Dr. Michael contacted the office of Prince Moretr, and they took out our common room (nobody was using it anyway), but also our entire southern bedroom wall to create the “downstairs lobby” for Matushka.
So, he APOLOGIZED for that and suggested I ask Jim and Wallace if they were planning anything for dinner with Henry.
With that, I walked in on a scene of my life.
And I’m not talking about the missing bedroom wall.
She was so petite, that I did not even notice her right away.
“Hey, Jim, are you in the crapper? I am here to ask you what you and Wallace want for dinner. Dr. Michael’s and Lord Sedgefield’s families agreed on a pizza and salad. Mr. Milgram is drunk and is not opening the door. I myself just got me sandwiches, because I’ve been working for seven hours straight, and nobody here gives a shit about me... Who is this naked woman on your bed?! Jim?”
“Oh, Sheba, hi!” James got out of the bathroom, fixing his pants, and then addressing the woman on his bed.
“Is this ok? Do I look ok?”
The woman nodded.
She was wearing nothing but lacy black bra and same underwear, with Jim’s dressing gown around her shoulders. She was shaking, but would not wrap the dressing gown around herself.
“James? Where is Wallace? Who is this woman?”
James did not respond, his face reflecting a desire to protect his guest. His eyes kept on darting at her, then at me.
And back at HER, as soon as she moved her shoulders slightly, and her face, sad and pale, got even sadder.
Jim’s glance froze on her slumped, but lovely silhouette.
“This is a secured area, Mr. Kellspell.” I pressed on. “You are the first one making sure no one gets in, you make our prospective partners submit applications, while you just bring in anyone you want?Does Henry know you are fucking a WOMAN?”
“Yeah, about the woman.” Jim kind of UNFROZE.
I was dying to hear THAT story. The woman was young, just out of her twenties, with short wavy hair, barefoot and emaciated.
A naked woman IN JIM’S BED! I really needed to hear that one! Did he decide he had enough of Henry so much so he just “switched” his sexual orientation? Or did she follow him from the street?
This is where I noticed something that shocked me even more.
Forget the spiral staircase descending into our BEDROOM!
Forget a woman in a gay man’s bed!
There is not going to be the end to this tonight, is there?
“Oh my God!” I ran up to what looked like DEAD WALLACE SMITH!
His body was lifeless, slumped against the entrance to Henry’s Royal Chamber, partially concealed by the curtains. That is why I did not see him right away.
His shirt was crumpled, his receding hair was disheveled, and every wrinkle around his eyes was soaked in tears.
Did these two kill Henry’s man, because he walked in on them? Did he cry and beg for mercy before they killed him?!
Oh, I know! A chilling thought crossed my mind. Jim had a reason to kill Wallace Smith. He believes his boyfriend left him for Smith seventeen years ago.
There was no blood, or wounds that I could see on Smith’s body.
But Jim is a chemist with criminal proclivities. He told us all kinds of stories on how he could poison anyone he wanted by plants growing freely in the woods and fields of Northern Hemisphere.
A certain crystal alkaloid you could easily find in the nature around you, would cause you fatal arrhythmia, he said, untraceable during an autopsy, and toxicology would come back empty, for no one would ever test your blood for “mezakonitine”. The death would be ruled as “natural causes”, or “undetermined” he’d add.
The man is capable of narrating some terrifying stuff.
He fucks your brain, and you stay fucked.
Burned by these thoughts I finally put down my sandwiches and went for an attack.
“Twenty minutes I was gone, Jim! Twenty minutes! During that time Dr. Michael’s wife decided to have a massive renovation that took out half of OUR BEDROOM, and you offed Henry’s man so you could spend your St. Valentine WITH A WOMAN!”
But Jim did not respond.
Many more unpleasant scenarios blasted through my mind. There is literally a thousand of untraceable ways by which a chemist can kill you.
Henry sure knows how to pick the most efficient people for his “legion”. My head was swarming with dark thoughts, as I was waiting for Jim’s answer, and watching Smith’s face for signs of life.
Suddenly I had a genius idea of checking the man’s pulse. Maybe they just got him drunk... What will I find out? What if he is REALLY dead?! Jesus Christ!
But before I could do that...
“Henryjames! I am coming down this newly installed spiral staircase to ask what you want on your pizza? I sent Sheba, but she never got back to me with the answer! Matushka wants pepperoni and mushrooms, but the Sedgefields want pineapple!”
Mushrooms. More mushrooms! For all of us.
What am I doing with a stiff in my bedroom?! My life got from “very painful” to “crazy insane” in twenty minutes! And now people want to know what I want on my pizza. Answers, I want answers!
Michael’s voice jerked Jim into action.
“Get back in the body, Samantha!” James ordered the woman in a panicked voice, watching the staircase intently.
SAMANTHA?! Wait, where did I hear that name?
“No...” The woman whispered, still shaking.
“Dr. Michael knows you professionally! You do not want to come out at sixty years old with a straight family and two children!!!”
What? Who is coming out?
Then Kellspell turned to me, fear in his eyes.
“Sheba! Stop Dr. Michael! Tell him we want pizza with marinated genitals of a mayfly. Distract him! Keep him away!!”
“Got it!”
I had to do it. Whatever happened to Wallace, we have a medical team here. Whoever this girl is, we can resolve this in private. We do not have to make a public scene on the eve of St. Valentine’s Day!
There was no time to analyze anything. I had to save my James. James, who had done so much for me, and all I ever did was spit in his face and leave him for David Reddington.
Life is unpredictable!
On my way from the cafeteria I was thinking of how to tell Jim that I want David to be my St. Valentine, and that I want a honeymoon with David. Now THIS HAPPENED, and instead of planning my honeymoon, I have to deal with a lifeless body, a naked woman, and a hungry Dr. Michael!
I ran up the long spiral stairway that was just installed from Dr. Michael’s spacious apartment and down to our floor.
A naked woman in Jim’s bed. Wow.
This confusing time MAY JUST BE the best time to tell Jim this: I know that your teacher did not take a vacation in three years with you. I was at it for only a year and four months. I am not as strong as your teacher, I am not entitled to a vacation, but I need a break! And, by the way, good news! A woman in your bed will dispel all the suspicions that you might have homosexual agenda!
Wait.. What was I supposed to tell Dr. Michael? Darn my DeVo’ing attention span.
Ok, let’s go for the obvious.
Obviously, he reads my channel.
“Henryjames”? What is this new thing, Dr. Michael?”
With all my contemplations I was a tad too late. I met him right where you could already see our bedroom through the stairs. Oh, we will have to fix that construction blunder!
“Well, internet has Brangelina, why can’t we have Henryjames?” Dr. Michael responded in a cheerful voice.
“You’ve been reading my channel, then.” I approached Michael very close, not letting him go a step further.
See, if I can distract him.
“Yes, Sheba, I have. I also am not stupid. Stairs or not, your bedroom can be seen through the windows of my living room! Who are you and James hiding downstairs when Henry is out?”
The weirdest show ever, that is what we are hiding there.
And failing at that, too.
Jim’s loud hoarse voice coming from our bedroom could be heard for a mile:
“ ...born in the wrong body...” SO WHAT? You are still being paid to be my teacher! Do you know what Henry will do to us both for this unauthorized performance?!! When you are done with your little “out of body” rebellion, Samantha, you will have to teach me how to say “Holy shit”, “Fuck it”, and “I don’t give a crap.” in proper British! Right now it is all three! GET THE FUCK UP!”
Late at night after the dinner (Henry never showed up, called Wallace and ordered him to tell everyone that he is “giving an interview”.)
All interview scheduling goes through my bridgeplate. No interviews were scheduled for today. Henry was not on the project at large, either. If only Lady Lion assigned him somewhere else. Other than that...
Other than that he was lying. TO ME, to HIS MATES, and to James.
James somehow thrives in the acidic environment of ultimate control through violence and lies that Lord Carlton is so good at establishing. Jim can’t get enough of it!
I tried to show James the REAL Lord Carlton, and that did not work. I do not know how much more I can take.
After pepperoni pizza for dinner (we got invited to have dinner with the “fat cats” upstairs :) both me and Wallace are now leaning over James, who is on the bed, holding on to his right side.
It never ends! The fun never ends!
“Right here...” He moans. “Under my rib cage.”
I point to the spot just above his stomach, for the Arkchil Record.
“Needles... Needles piercing me there... Ow!”
Samantha got back into her body (we now need a place where we could store her male body while she is home with us), because there was obviously too much attention.
Hafnian was BORN on MEOL for his new assignment. He is preparing the ground for us, no matter what the Parliament has to say about our corrupt ways.
Jim is in bed, in pain.
Again, like last winter? Is this what is going to happen?! I’m going to be on my knees by his bed for months on end, all by myself, while everyone else is busy with their own happy lives!
Henry is nowhere to be found.
But he will be back to torment James. It is his drug.
James enjoys being Henry’s drug.
He lives to be Henry’s punching bag.
He applies science to Henry’s every idea.
But I am the one who ends up sleeping with a bleeding and a moaning mate. I AM THE ONE who watches the man handcuffed to a chair for ten hours, peeing in his pants.
Here is what our schedule for tomorrow looks like:
James Kellspell & Wallace Smith
Wedding Day
1. Reception
2. Kerfuffle
3. Lunch
4. Pandemonium
The rest of the day:
1. Dr. Michael ordering us all pizza;
2. Henryjames Amalgamated plotting new criminal activity to make money, Wallace Smith only being their next unwitting (or willing?) victim/tool.
My family on the eve of St. Valentine’s Day.
I am so burned out.
And Jim does not have a single free minute to even consider my request for a vacation.
Right before the official record begins, Jim’s voice through static:
“Jesus help us! 6:54 pm. Henry WILL rip up Reddington’s contract if they are even one minute late!!”
Break.
{“5 Minutes To Revelation” Representative: We were unable to determine how much time had passed between these two records}
“Ahem... On air. This is Regent Kellspell. Of all the times Sheba called the emergency ON ME!
I had to call the emergency on my faithful Arkchil Channel Personal Recorder Sheba Of Salem.
So, we crash-landed for the next 20 hours, then. There was nobody to record.
I take full responsibility for the depleted mental state in which Sheba was when the Arkabins took her away.
The last few days were very stressful for all of us. The rising moon, oh.
After Sheba and David escaped, and were dragged back by Henry, Reddington said that he only came back because Henry threatened to take back their deal (take protections away from Reddington’s family).
Reddington said that he Sheba told him stuff about both James Kellspell and Lord Carlton while they were in the car, basically driving away from the compound. Based on what he heard, Reddington said he was going to walk off the set himself, if Sheba’s request for a hiatus of any kind is not considered.
And that was ignored by Henry.
The next day Reddington got a hold of Mr. Rubinstein to see how he can get off the Strobulus.
While this was happening, Sheba was forced to continue working in the regular mode. My sweet exotic girl lasted for only two more days with her recording duties AND babysitting me.
Today she was taken off the set. She collapsed. She is in a psych ward right now. She may come back to work with minimal duties.
Or Henry might have to bring in Kyle. If Kyle wants to make extra money for his mother.
Fuck... It is my fault. Henry is unstoppable, and shame is not a retardant to him, but I will have to look Reddington in the eye.
We had a kerfuffle,
in which Henry gave us all what for, and he enforced his Covenant on Sheba, making her come back from the vacation she took without permission. It was not pretty.
I told him she was going non-stop for sixteen months, feeling overworked and neglected. Obviously, this only made Henry scream louder and beat her harder.
Both Henry and I are depleted in the “compassion department”.
Sheba sensed it. After a year’s worth of trying to break me away from Henry, she concluded that we both are incorrigible, and she does not belong.
She thought she belonged with David Reddington.
David Reddington is hot, yes, but HE IS NOT YOURS.
She was with him in her mind this whole time. Huge portraits of Reddington in a suit, in his government office, by this charter plane, or what - all the walls in her mind palace are dedicated to David Reddington.
Jeez, God is the witness, I don’t have time for this!
But, ok... She would not let me in, so I could not tell her - where do you get off falling for a STRAIGHT GUY, and a FAITHFUL FAMILY MAN at that? What is your fucking problem, Sheba?
But then I did not know she was a woman. I thought “Samuel” was a gay man. But “Samuel” told me to stay away from his mind palace.
I entered anyway, but only to the hall. I did not touch any Sigils, so never found out that she was a woman until she showed up in a wedding dress behind me in the middle of an interview, or something.
I was like, was this performance announced? How about “approved”? But I had to humor her, I was determined to make her happy.
So, we took pics together. Henry arranged for it, as far as I know. He wanted to make her happy, too.
She WANTED to be in love with me. She truly TRIED to forget David Reddington. She DID KNOW, or should have known, that OUR KIND MUST STAY AWAY FROM THE STRAIGHT PEOPLE. It’s nothing but heartbreak.
But, over time, Sheba felt forced to see me as a criminal, worth the poor treatment Henry was giving me.
Then she saw an opportunity to bring in Reddington, when we needed a mediator with the MEOL Parliament, and all that jazz. I was not involved in it.
Prince Moretr and Lady Lion were looking for possible sets on territories where Leot’s secret police had no jurisdiction.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This MEOL Planet had come up, um... and Moretr swooped down on the purchase. But the Cassiopeians said that since it was their protectorate, they will censor the show to protect the local population. Or something within the lines.
The Cat told me all that. He did not give a shit, just saw it on Leot-controlled newschannels. And... I don’t care about it either, make a long story short, MEOL’s Parliament wanted censorship, because the were upset that the rogue reality show would bring Leot’s attention. Ok, fine, we still want the deal, the audience is large. If Lady Lion can get to the Andromedan audience... That’s incredible amounts of money. But how much censorship? So Moretr and Lady Lion had to bring in a skilled negotiator.
Seeing a break, breathlessly, Sheba, using the voice of the Prophet’s Second Mate, suggested Reddington to Lady Lion, and he was onboard, this easy.
Now Reddington was ON THE PROJECT, but still, Sheba was worlds away from him. For even as they now were working in the same building (here, in this compound), he was still a straight family man.
All this was happening, as I was working on everything Kumlatov would throw at me, corresponding with the MEOL cat to see the politics from the inside, and trying to please Henry in bed. And at large.
Sheba would pout for days, I’m telling you. I KNEW it was because of Reddington. But she would not bring it up with me, only bark at Henry, until it was too late.
Until Henry had had enough of her opposition and demanded to know her price for shutting up.
Her price was her most well-kept secret, David Reddington.
This is where {or two months ago?!} Henry received intel that Krotkie would be taken, and he tried to sneak in his man. AND get Reddington paid off.
Reddington gets fired for taking a bribe.
Sheba freaks out, loses hope, and wants to steal Reddington from the world, and talks him into running away together.
“You work for me, your family is protected.
You do not work for me, I can’t help you. I sincerely hope that you can make it back by 7 pm tonight, or face the consequences.”
This is what Henry texted Reddington while I cried that Sheba left me for another man.
Reddington brought Sheba back.
All that broke her already unstable heart.
All this could have been avoided had she not kept secrets from me. I will still know, people! May this be a lesson to all of us. No secrets. WE ARE ONE!
I really have no time for this right now.
Kumlatov is on the line dictating me WINTER MEMORANDUM ADDENDUM I, Henry is on the other line demanding excellence from me, and adherence from Sheba, Kyle had kittens just trying to be my Arkchil Operator for two hours, and we still have seventeen hours left until the next connecting point.
AND, with a skeleton crew, I had to take over recording of MY OWN INTERVIEW!
To our viewers: Please stay with us during this difficult rising moon.
Our new home will be soon at: MEOL, Magellanic Cloud 17, Andromeda Federation.
As the connection cuts out, Reg. Kellspell’s voice could be still heard: “Wallace, you wanted a job? I lost my first officer, and both engines. You are going to have to become all three for me...”
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Here is this interview we had to record just between the two of us, because Henry needed it.
“What are you afraid of the most?” Wallace goes through the list of questions Henry gave him to ask me {Reg. J. Kellspell}
“Checkpoints.” I respond, and chuckle. “I was going to say “cuddle fish”, but it would crack everyone up.”
“Let’s stay serious.” Wallace nods. “Why checkpoints?”
“I used to smuggle so much illegal stuff. Drugs, plants, cultures... I spent so much time worrying that I’d get caught that now I freak out every time an attendant asks me for my ticket at the museum! I am terrified I’d get frisked, they would find drugs, and I would get arrested.”
“Interesting. There is a whole chapter here on illegal activities. Any more activities connected to smuggling?”
“I used to forge state certificates for these pills for a client of mine, and she’d use them to smuggle hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of illegal weight loss pills from Philippines into Russia. She would cut me 10% of proceeds off every shipment, and I was in the money like pig in shit. But that was in the 90s.”
“What other illegal activities were you involved in?”
“I used to be involved in industrial espionage on behalf of the United States. I worked for Morris Tempelsman. My American handlers used me to smuggle documents out of Roskom-dragnet building. It was a multimillion dollar operation. I did not get paid very much for it, but I served the Americans. And not just the Americans. The JEWS! So I felt that I made a politically correct move, I was on the right side of history, and I was very proud of myself for that.”
“What else?”
“I used to run a whore house in Moscow for foreigners. Please do not tell Sheba. She has already had a nervous breakdown because of the massive compromat on me that keeps on emerging. Apparently I am not the man she imagined the prophet to be. Mr. August had to show up at the wrong time, too... I am taking her disappointment very hard...”
“What is your first memory?” Wallace continues relentlessly with his list.
He wants to be the best for Henry, but he is worried about his age. I see. I must remind him of Serena. Whatever pills she takes against old age, they’re working.
“Cracks in the pavement by our house after the earthquake in March of 1977.”
“How old were you, for the record?”
“I was three. The day before, March 3, it was sunny, and my mother was walking me on the pedestrian path right under the windows of our 6 storey apartment building. I would always stare under my feet during walks.
It was hard to deal with the female body, and I did not care for people to say over an over again “oh, what a cute girl!” Well, fuck you, I was not a girl. So, I’d stare down all the time to avoid listening to the stupid shit people said that would piss me off. Pavement is all you see down there. And I saw that it was smooth, no cracks or anything.
That night the earthquake shook the city. People were running out of their houses, calling their relatives. It was pandemonium.
But I do not remember any of that. However, THE NEXT DAY that black asphalt pavement I would always stare into right under the windows of our apartment - it had a finger-thick crack across it. Ants would crawl in and out of it. And I stood there, watched the ants, and thought: fuck, that was a strong one. Is my aunt Zoya allright?”
“Where did you earn your degree in linguistics?”
“Oh, i do not hold a degree in linguistics.”
“Where did you earn your degree in chemistry?”
“I never earned any degree. I barely finished high school.”
Silence. Wallace is writing stuff down on a piece of paper. I mean, instead of the computer. I love it. Retro. But he looks and acts tired.
“Wallace?”
He just sits there, with his head down.
I come and hug him. Take the papers and the pen out of his hands.
“Wallace, let’s finish this later.”
“Sheba is not the only one who has needs, James!”
“True.” I nod. Wallace is so sweet. He is steeped in the trauma of being stuck in the wrong body, he smells like a thousand years of suffering, and it is inebriating to me.
“I experience a deep need to be naked in bed with you, but instead I must do what Henry told me to do.”
“This interview’s deadline is at the end of the month.”
“Then may I please take off my clothes?”
“Yes, Wallace. We are now officially Covenant-bound. Which means that I can fuck you every day!”
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
HERE COMES MY MARTYRDOM
CHAPTER 120
You are in pain,
Because, drunk in your cell
You think you hit others,
But you hit yourself....
“Gentlemen! I am helping my ex’s kid with English homework.” Jim is in the backyard on the phone plugged into his bridgeplate. “English is not my native language. What does “abseil” mean? Sheba?”
“English is my native language, I don’t know.”
“Mr. Reddington?”
“English IS my native language, and what’s that word again?”
“Abseil”
“No idea.”
“It means descending down a vertical rock, using two ropes.”
“I did not ask you, Mr. Smith. H.M. does not know, Kyle does not know, Sheba does not know, MR REDDINGTON does not know, and you do!” Jim turned to Wallace, who now took his place as Regent Kellspell’s new teacher, by Jim’s left hand.
Wolf Hafnian was sent to MEOL on a new assignment!! I found out yesterday.
Kellspell does not know it yet, but he will not see his beloved teacher for a while.
Maybe he DOES know, and that is why he gives hell to his NEW teacher.
Jim is such a bipolar motherfucker, jeez.
Come to think of it, I suffered so much from him in the last year and four months.
“How the fuck do you know what a word means when I asked five guys and Lady Anne! Reddington surpasses us all in intelligence and class, Lady Anne’s IQ is through the roof, and these fancy bitches didn’t know and yourass does?”
And he slapped Smith.
Wallace staggered back and held his right hand to his lips.
“James! Fuck! What the fuck, Mr. Kellspell!!”
I rushed out of the bedroom and into the back yard, where Jim was on the phone with the little girl, his ex’s daughter/ Level 1, needing help in English homework, when he hit his new teacher, Mr. Wallace Smith, and lost contact with Level 1.
“I can handle it!” Smith assured me with a miserable half-smile as Jim caught up with him and pushed him into the hedge.
“You hit him one more time, James, and I’m walking off the set!”
What is going on with us? Since Hafnian was taken to be reborn on MEOL (deep cover, emergency situation. They had to do it after the Parliament fired our man David Reddington), Jim was not himself.
Yesterday he... heck, how am I witnessing all this violence, why are we so entangled in it? Yesterday Jim raped this elderly man, Mr. Smith, in front of me, and Henry.
I shudder just thinking about it! I told David, I needed his advice on how to process all this, and he told me that I must not judge right away. I must give it time.
But I know he was appalled. It’s not normal. What’s been happening, it’s not right.
And I DID give it time!!! For over a year I slept with a violent sexual offender!
Did it feel normal?
Well, ok, no. It never felt normal, not with James, but I knew all along he was like that.
That’s why Carlton felt normal to him. They are both fucked in the head. Victims of their twisted mentality? Persistent insanity? Unfortunate upbringing? Sexual assaults endured in childhood? How much time does it take to figure THAT out?
“Sheba, please get back to the main topic.”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
David’s voice in my head! I gave him access to my personal Arkchil channel, and I asked him to watch everything I do to help me through my psychological issues. He said his wife had similar issues. So we might have the whole subscription between me and her. Ahem. Old joke.
“Sheba, please get back to the main topic. What was reason Mr. Smith knew the meaning of the word “abseil”?”
Yes, David!
Anyway. I must spill my guts to my personal channel before I burst. “I got paid five million dollars to be anything you want.” David answered me, then.
And I was like, five million dollars? I thought it was ten. And he was like, yes, ten altogether. But only five was for you. The other five was for me to look the other way and distract the Parliament when Lord Carlton sneaked in his underling before the new teacher was to be chosen for James.
And I was like - oh, heck no! Is that what happened?! Because when decided HOW to bring in David (stage the loud encounter in the hall to be spilled into Jim’s bedroom, where he had to deal with all of us), for the Arkchil Record.
But when we planned it, there was no man with Carlton.
When Carlton showed up with Smith - that was a surprise to me. Hence, the second five mil was for Reddington to keep his mouth shut that Carlton brought another Brit with him.
Jim smelled that omega, and he fell for that omega, once he smelled him. A needy, elderly omega is a perfect partner for a beta like Jim. This is what David told me later. This is what Carlton was going for.
Carlton tried to get Jim to accept his underling before - but Kellspell rejected Smith’s application.
Then Carlton asked me, what would it take for you to shut up, and I said “Reddington”.
Carlton went to Reddington and said - five mil for you to fuck that drag queen.
That was captured and divulged.
Reddington steps down.
On his birthday.
Our producers freak out, that they lost their man in Parliament.
Of all us Hafnian was the only one qualified to... go undercover on such a short notice. “Short notice”? wait a minute.... 8 months. Incubation period. Hafnian’s IQ dropped to 27 prior to all the events. He was going to be BORN there...
This is when Henry knew he had to bring in his man. That man was Wallace Smith.
And Carlton paid David off again.
Jim said there were 8 possible paths, various ways of development. These possible future paths of development were meant to protect us from Leot’s secret police, Clandeslux.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It’s like we all got copied, and eight different groups of the Emerald Filament project went towards the same goal by eight different possible ways.
If all seven got intercepted, but just ONE copy of us got through, our reality show/research would buy us necessary time to blossom and spread seed in the future of Andromeda.
Then, the entire galaxy would face the inevitability of the Awakening.
It will start the chain reaction of Awakening the Universe to slow down its expansion.
“Remember, Sheba.” Jim said the other day. “Clandeslux” is not a joke. You say the word “God”, and you will be dead tomorrow. On open channels, say only “Original Source”. They will keep on trying to kill me until they succeed. Then we will go back in time and take another one of the eight possible routes, all beginning here, today, and we will achieve Awakening again.”
“Sheba, I need you back, out of your mind palace and into reality.”
David! I must come to his call, but I can’t surface from this maelstrom of images, events, conclusions.
Yes, I went to my mind palace, and there were news, printouts for me. Notes “while you were out”, and HIS letters. David’s letters to me from the future, thanking me for helping him save his family. And somehow, in that future, we are ALL together!
As I emerge from my mind’s palace, I realize that Mr. Smith stands there, blood running down his chin, held by Lady Anne.
Oh, our holy Lady Anne! A nurse in the field hospital of miserable, broken men! She takes care of us, and she takes all kinds of crap from us. She has signed up for martyrdom, too. And, she is the humblest of us. Therefore the bravest.
She is helping Mr. Smith stand up. James is pissed. I know I spaced out for too long.
“James! How can you do it? He is sixty years old!”
“I deserve it...” Smith whispers through his bloody mouth.
God Almighty! Or, now, it’s “Original Source” Almighty! What am I experiencing? Deja vu? I have heard it all before every time Henry would hit James.
Where am I?
Mid-afternoon sun in my eyes. I am on the Strobulus, upwards through Levels of Sleeping Consciousness, the elevator back to the Eden Garden.
We will be reaching The Pearly Gates in four hours, and when we arrive, they will help James.
My James is totally unhinged. He hit a man old enough to be his father. My James needs help. And he will receive it.
I could not handle it anymore, and I left him for another man.
I did to him exactly what Kyle did. At the end of the study period Jim had passed all tests, but his teammates had not.
And I harassed Kyle for surrendering to Henry instead of Jim.
In the weirdest twist of fate ALL my dreams came true, though.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
So, I have surrendered to David instead of Jim. But Jim always wanted me to be happy.
What would Jim do?
I know!
He will say what he always says: It is not time to fight, it is time to love!”
“Time to stop hurting and start loving, James!” I say, encouraged by David’s confident presence on my Arkchil channel.
But by the time I say it, Kellspell has dragged Smith into our bedroom, slid the door closed and then the curtains (later comment: WHAT DOOR, what curtains, WTF?)
“He IS loving. But for a submissive man hurting IS loving. James smells Wallace’s need to be dominated, the same way Henry sensed that need in James and exploited it.” David just narrates this stuff!
“How do you know so much about other people’s feelings and motivations, David?” I bring myself closer to him, because I want him to notice my new earrings.
“I have been around a while, Sheba. And, I guess, I have suffered enough.”
Good, all of this is good, but I must keep digging.
Not a voyeur, but I must be with James at all times. I followed them.
Kellspell nodded my arrival and continued with Wallace, who sat on the bed in Henry’s old dressing gown, writing down whatever Jim was saying into a notebook on his lap, while constantly fixing his glasses.
“You are to keep my schedule, and do not let me snack between meals. Henry wants me to lose two more pounds by next Saturday. Are you writing this down, Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.” Wallace shifted uncomfortably, his dressing gown opened, and he was naked underneath.
“Do not let me hunch. Henry hates that.”
Smith nodded, putting his head really low.
“You have to teach me to be a gentleman. Was your father a gentleman, Mr. Smith?
Smith nodded again, this time with a faint smile.
“My father was two clicks away from a slave, so we did not have any manners. At least none that I cared to acquire. I grew up in a house with no plumbing. But I married into extended Royal family. So help us God. I will follow your instructions, and I will listen to you, but you still have an uphill battle. I will learn to be a gentleman if it kills me.”
Smith nodded to all that, with this martyr’s smile. This is what I call it:“Henry will crucify me, for I work for him, and James will crucify me, for he is my beta, so I BETTA LAY DOWN.”
Omega thinking. I am getting a hang of this gay man psychology.
“Now I am going to fuck you within an inch of your life, because you are Henry’s bitch, and he sent you to spy on me, see if you make me slip, and spill some valuable intel.”
Oh! Wow!
“As Mr. Kellspell wishes.” Smith took off his gown, and laid face down on the bed. Jim took off his pants, and he was rock hard, and proud of it.
Never like that for me. Never. And Smith is FIVE YEARS MY SENIOR!
My emotions (ego!) were pushing me to make a scene, but David on my channel calmly explained that James is a beta, tuned in to “omega behaviour”. It’s passive, obsequious behaviour. Something you, Sheba, have rarely exhibited.
“So, how the fuck did you know that word?” Kellspell growled at Smith as he was doing him with much energy.
“Because I am... British... Mr. Kellspell.” Smith responded, out of breath, and I saw blood on the sheets where his face was.
“Jim, he is bleeding! You hit him in the face and now he is bleeding! Don’t you have any mercy?!”
“You will shave off that ridiculous beard!” Jim yelled at Smith, ignoring me.
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.” Smith whispered, pushed into the bed harder and harder by Jim’s arduous movements.
“You make sure I brush my teeth twice a day, take showers, clean my nails, call my mother and stay pleasing to Henry!” Jim intensified his attack on Smith’s ass and Wallace mumbled “yes” amid his moans.
“How much is he paying you to spy on me?” Bipolar Kellspell came into Smith with a suppressed moan, then grabbed his shirt and hit the man across his back several times. His version of a reach-around?
“And don’t let me talk too much. Henry hates that. Do you understand your responsibilities?”
After a long pause, during which Smith was dealing with his own happy ending.
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.”
“Then wash up and be here in ten minutes. Sheba and I need to work on Winter Memorandum, and your job is to make sure that i am clean shaven, that my socks have no holes of which I am blissfully unaware, and that I use no swearing words between channeling and getting distracted.”
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.” Wallace got up and went to the bathroom, moaning quietly, and holding on to his bleeding lip.
I am witnessing the same violence, but now with Jim as the aggressor.
Why?
Why is this happening?
“This is our jou-urney”, “I needed liberation from my pa-ast” I mock Smith’s accent while getting ready for the interview. “Do you hear any of this, James?”
“No!” Jim chuckles, doing his chemistry homework on his bridgeplate. “To us Russians ALL of you people is one conglomerate of uniformly fat Western cats who speak English. We can’t determine by accent as to where one of you is from.”
“All the Brits must work on eliminating their moronic accent before they perform for us.” I carry on, darn well knowing that Henry will look through my recent record and he will be furious.
But since I can no longer attack him openly.... One must get flexible.
“U-huh.” Jim has no idea I uttered an insult. He might hear the difference in the speech between the British and the Americans, but he can’t tell an Englishman from any other European speaking English. “My people would fake a British accent just to sound cool.”
He turns on the subtitles to watch a British movie, because he can’t understand anything they are saying. But just because of that, tone-deaf James can’t say that they are “British”. They could be Swedish. All he knows is that he does not understand.
He determines the nationality by penetrating reflections of experiences on a person’s outer shell and comparing the data to what he knows about other countries.
Language is the last thing Jim analyses during the determination process. This approach, from a LINGUIST.
Utterly tone-deaf linguist. Is it even possible?
And I am a musician. Sometimes Jim sings Billy Joel’s songs. It makes me want to jump out of the window. I like Billy Joel, no problem. But you cannot possibly sing them any more out of tune than James.
These are just little observations that I must share. Now I have SOMEONE TO SHARE THEM WITH.
David also has a lot of comments about our show. He’s been watching it for a while, apparently.
And when a mediator was needed, and I pulled strings, and his phone rang, apparently David Reddington stood by the door, all dressed and ready to go.
Luck favors the prepared mind. And my David is always prepared.
From David’s explanatory lectures about gay men and their ways.
Correction from David. These are personality types, not just gays.
“Beta is an alpha in the absence of an alpha, Sheba. Beta will give orders, but they would only affect other betas (maybe), and omegas. An Alpha is not going to follow a beta’s orders.”
“Why not? Why would not you follow Jim’s orders?”
“Sheba, there may be betas, who’s orders I will follow. That remains to be seen. Just not THIS PARTICULAR beta. Forgive me, he is your friend, a hot item on Andromedan TV, and all that, but James is a very sick man. I would not follow his orders at gunpoint.”
Suddenly I burst out laughing.
Yeah, I had time to figure that out. David smiles, too. He is so well-balanced, so experienced. But not judgmental. A complete opposite to James.
“In general, Alphas will not follow ANYONE’S orders. We can think for ourselves.”
Sure. I wish he would think for me.
Those days working on the project together seven years ago. I thought of it so much, watching him do his job, being a pro in every respect.
I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be WITH him... I also felt so insignificant in comparison with HIM.
David REDDINGTON!
Everyone paid attention to HIM, and I was just his invisible assistant.
What a cliche. What a walking cliche I am. Talking about a man I love so much, and not a single original thought about love.
Who knows ANYTHING about love?
Oh, there is this amalgamated creature called Henryjames. Maybe Henryjames knows answers!
Henryjames is always together, always seeking each other’s company, always happily playing their own games. They are so close, so in tune with each other, that they will soon develop their own language. It will sound something like this:
“I am your fire, you are my wood...
You are my donkey, I am your food.”
How many times have I heard that one in every lyrical variation?
I always thought that James was the donkey. And Henry was a cruel and a selfish rider.
But look what happened. Henry got James a new teacher. Darn well knowing that James is a “four omega” beta (a four-horse carriage” :).
A four-wheel car! It does not get any clear than this. One omega is out and we all fall to the ground. It takes FOUR of us to hold him in place.
And that new “wheel” had to be Henry’s man.
Now I think that this is what happened.
I provoke a scandal, trying to reach out to a piece that is too far out of my reach on this chess board.
The scandal knocks out David Reddington, and our producers are left without their man in the MEOL Parliament.
They urgently need another spy on MEOL, and Wolf Hafnian is the only one who is tough enough.
SO, UNEXPECTEDLY (at least for James) his beloved teacher Wolf Hafnian is pulled out of Strobulus. And out of Jim’s embrace.
Wolf Hafnian is a lot more than his teacher. Wolf Hafnian is Jim Kellspell’s CRUTCH.
Yeah, then. Things happened in this order, and I blame myself, and Jim lost Hafnian. At lists for a while.
What does Henry do?
This piece does not fit time-wise. But I gave it some thought.
Now things may be starting to come together.
Henry obtained intel beforehand that Krotkie (Wolf Hafnian) was about to be reassigned.
(“beforehand”... How far “beforehand”?)
He, then, tries to bring in his man, Wallace Smith.
{who also inexplicably caused Jim heartache seventeen years ago when Jim’s Israeli boyfriend left him for a Wallace Smith. Is this a coincidence, or Henry’s influence on James goes way beyond the timeframe I have already developed? I am yet to work on this piece of the puzzle}
Knowing that he has no jurisdiction in the HR dept, Henry tries to bring his man through various ways. Say, via legal avenues first. He urges Jim to consider Smith’s application for a job. But that fails when Jim flushes Smith’s resume down the toilet.
I was there.
Jim said then: “I did not like it when Henry brought this man on the set about two months ago. I recognized him, too! We were already in Malachite Constellation, Level 1, you remember?”
I nodded “yes”, and Jim went on: “Henry said - oh, never mind him, Mr. Smith is here on a “Demetra visa”, blah blah. It has nothing to do with you. Whatever... I forgot about it. But then I see an application for a job on the project from a certain Mr. Wallace Smith. I’m like: WTF? Is it the same man? But there is a photo attached. Last time I saw his photo was when Banazir showed him to me. Ban said - Katanchik, i am leaving you for this man, do you approve? So, I had a flashback to that unpleasant day. Smith looked twenty years older, but the same high forehead, long brows, an unforgettable glance of a troubled mind of deep, mixed emotions. I could still recognize him allright. And I was like - I am not giving you a job here. Fuck, bitch, you took my boyfriend, get out of here!”
“Katanchik” is “the little one” in Hebrew. This is what Jim and Banazir called each other. Cute. And heartbreaking in this context.
NOW...
Time runs out and Krotkie is taken.
Henry knows that if he does not get Jim to sniff HIS omega, Jim will be given ANOTHER omega, and will fall for that one.
Then Carlton is forced to deal with me.
And here he gets a chance of his life, because I happen to want David Reddington in exchange for shutting up.
But Reddington is too far on the chess board. A figure, unavailable to both of us.
Henry never stops in his machinations.
In his zeal to obtain Reddington for me, he rubs the wrong way many other figures on that chess board, which causes Reddington to lose his job.
Right? Is this right? Is this what happened? Darn that Carlton. He may be too smart for me.
I KNOW he used Reddington and me to bring Smith in. It was HIS idea to stage the altercation in the hall for the Arkchil Record, for Jim to see.
He was desperate for Jim to have Smith. Henry is always looking for ways to tighten his grip on James. Let’s not forget, that Hafnian was also Henry’s underling.
A lot of stuff does not match. I must think this through again.
“In other words, if it insults your sense of propriety, Mr. Smith, please, let me know.” James stared in the distance as Wallace froze on his knees by his side. “Henry’s family #1 Rule is “Not to be accused of impropriety.”
Smith nodded without lifting his head.
“I have NO sense of propriety, so I am going to have to borrow yours.”
Wise words.
James gets up to work on his chemistry homework, and Smith follows him like a dog.
“Your reading glasses, Mr. Kellspell.” Wallace says very quietly, handing him the case that he, apparently, held in his hand this whole time.
Am omega predicting your needs and desires. You should see this drooling James.
Henry gave them a few days to get to know each other, and Smith did not waste a minute of it. He smoked those tires earning Jim’s trust and favor.
“Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Smith.” James took his glasses from Wallace, and put them on his head. “Do not let me self-mutilate. Sometimes I smoke cigars all the way to the end, until I burn my lips. A childhood habit. Not all cigarettes had filters way back when in Russia... They were hard to get by, too, and you could not afford to waste any of it. Henry hates watching that. You will stop me.”
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.”
Right. But Henry can mutilate you all he wants. He’ll give you a fat lip any day of the week. Just don’t burn it yourself.
“You see me running around in the backyard without socks and shoes - you stop me and make me get dressed. Henry hates seeing me act in an immature way.”
Smith stood behind James at the bridgeplate, and I could not even hear him breathe. His lust for James was palpable. Since when, though?
“You see me wearing a shirt inside out - you make me take it off. And you tell me what an immature fuck I am.”
“Yes, Mr. Kellspell.”
“I also need your advice, and some of your sense of propriety. Henry wants me to stop swearing, and I found it to be impossible.”
True, that’s true. I was there.
“For example,” James continued, his speech increasing in speed, as he sensed Smith’s igniting desire. “How do you say “fuck you” in proper English?”
“I’m sure we could find a polite alternative.” Smith whispered into Jim’s back.
“What about “don’t fuck with it”? Or, “this cunt is staring at me.” Then, um.... Oh, “homies be crazy”, Mr. Smith?
“We could say “would you please leave it be.” Wallace suggested. And “this woman is looking at me.” For the last one we could try “My close friends are acting out of line.”
“Ok. Bland, but works.” Jim agreed. “And the most important, when you want to know what the fuck, can you replace “fuck” with “heck”? Is it proper? And if it is not, then HOW would the Queen of England inquire what the fuck? Also, what do you say instead of “yo, my man”?
Right. Question of the day from James Kellspell. How would the Queen of England say “yo, my man, what the fuck”?
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“HERE COMES MY MARTYRDOM”
CHAPTER 119
“If you want flexible branches, pick a young tree. But if you want apples of experience, you are going to need an older tree. The older, the better.”
I think Jim said it when he got tired of hearing that his harem is a geriatric facility, brides aging 55 to 60 years of age in average.
That was his elaborate way of saying “fuck you”. He is trying to cut out swearing words in his aspirations to become a “real gentleman” for Henry.
From the Private Channel of Sheba Of Salem (Reg. J.Kellspell’s First Arkchil Record Operator):
Ok, Season 5, “Here Comes My Martyrdom!”
David loves this name. But I’m still on the fence about it.
Why? That’s why:
“If I gave you five million dollars, would you fuck that drag queen over there?”
That was a line from the files, hijacked from Henry Carlton’s personal Arkchil Channel.
Three days later in every {newspaper} in Nasarat City, Silver Passion Planet:
“MEDIATOR FOR MEOL PARLIAMENT/via CASSIOPEIA Headquarters ACCUSED OF TAKING BRIBES.”
“MEDIATOR FOR MEOL PARLIAMENT FALLS FROM THE GRACE: The negotiations to bring Prince Moretr’s notorious reality show to Magellanic Cloud 17 are stalled indefinitely. Public loses trust in deal.”
For those who missed the last exactly 118 episodes of our very real reality show, my David is THAT infamous Mediator for MEOL Parliament. I helped get him that job in the beginning of this year, oh, not two months ago.
And then James screamed out “Here comes my martyrdom!” when he invited Wallace Smith into his bedroom.
David, then, offered to name this new Season “Here Comes My Martyrdom”.
The producers loved it. Lady Lion saw it as “a catchy name and a fresh idea on the paths of our very well trodden industry.”
Which is cool, but since I am the narrator, it appears that I trumpet myself up, while, in reality, my machinations caused the man that I love the most lose his job with MEOL Parliament.
On his birthday.
And if that was not enough, I betrayed James not a week after I loudly proclaimed that i’d never cross him.
So, honestly, I cannot be called “martyr” in any way, for what is coming to me was totally earned.
How could I sink so low, so quickly? It was because of my very-well kept secret. And I have already admitted somewhere here how tired I was of keeping secrets.
“David, I should have never given into Lord Carlton’s games! “What would it take for you to shut up?”...”
I copied Henry’s hoarse threatening whisper and had shivers down my spine as I remembered the day we made a deal... What would it take for me to shut up and stop barking at Lord Henry Carlton?
I was safe in the knowledge that it was something Carlton could never get me. A straight family man who would not go out with a “drag queen” if I was the last woman left standing.
The only man I ever loved. My biggest secret, and the reason I asked James never to go into my “mind palace”. For if he ever looked inside his faithful Arkchil Record Operator, he would have seen a woman. In deep hiding, but a woman nevertheless.
And a woman in love.
“I should have never... David!!!” I threw myself onto his chest, and cried.
Crying into HIS CHEST! Ohh... So happy I am with HIM! So incredibly giddy... What a miracle! I am with DAVID REDDINGTON!
Do I even care about James? The man, who did everything for me?
James, who is going to look through Metarix Sleeve press, stumble upon the mention of the leak from Henry’s personal Arkchil Channel, and he will know that we plotted against him!!!
“Relax, I did not care to work with those people anyway.” David patted my head. “You have curly Jew hair, Sheba...” and then, after a pause. “Oh my God, that was so inappropriate!”
The last three words were whispered into the back of my neck as I laid face down on his lap. I slid there slowly, following this incredibly irresistible smell...
Forget Jew hair....
ALL OF IT is inappropriate.
I have lost my grip on reality.
For I got a hardon of my life.
And I forgot all about the scandal I caused.
The scandal that broke out when I told Henry what would be the only thing to get me to shut up.
David is not going to let me give him a blowjob, not just yet. But my time will come.
Oh, my David... He smells so good!
“Sheba, your bridgeplate went on. It’s James. James Kellspell is calling for you!”
James who?
SEGMENT 1
“Two months ago I was offered a job at one of the hottest projects of Eridani Industries. I became a negotiator between the Parliament of Morning Emerald Of Loyalty (MEOL), a planet in Magellanic Cloud 17, and Team Emerald Filament, owned by Levin Corp.
Yesterday, on my birthday {David chuckles}, I was fired for taking money from... from Lord Henry Carlton, to have sex with a man from Team Emerald Filament. Five million dollars.
AND five more million dollars to look the other way as Lord Carlton sneaked in another one of his agents to keep an eye on James and shift the balance inside of the team to his favor. You should have SEEN Wallace Smith when he was finally smuggled in. Oh, Sheba… The dirty behind-the-scenes politics are enough to turn your tender girly stomach!”
He is such a flatterer, my David. “Girly stomach”. He is seeing an aging MALE in front of him. But he loves me enough to TRY to see the woman no one ever suspected lived INSIDE of that perpetually aging… and raging male!
“As far as I know the Parliament of MEOL has no jurisdiction over the Emerald Filament project. How could they get you fired?” I venture. Why do I say this? To show how smart I am?
Well, I’m NOT. Being smart and saying cool things was never my forte! As the song goes “if I tell a joke, you’ve probably heard it before.” That’s about me. And I feel sensitive about it.
Ahem, to illustrate the point.
“Of course not, my love!” David delivers in his deep baritone. “The MEOL Parliament can’t even establish jurisdiction over the Western MEOL. They are learning the hard way that cats are not herd animals!”
Very funny… And I’m so shallow that I can’t hide my annoyance.
“Sheba… Come on!” David has the best of ways to comfort a woman. He simply hugs her like he would a man. I feel his hand across my back and on my shoulder, and I feel that YES! I CAN! I can not only “hide my annoyance”, but I can also understand that I can’t wear my heart on my sleeve. And I can’t be upset at the man I love so much, wanted so much, and went through so much to get.
14 months with JAMES KELLSPELL
is your special kind of hell!
I wrote that using his poem-weaving app. I hated that thing throughout my entire tenure as Regent Kellspell’s Personal Arkchil Channel Operator.
Jim did everything he could to welcome me into his family (his “Uret”).
But now I’m using his invention to trash him. How typical of me.
But, that is over now. I’M A STRONG WOMAN. That’s what I say to all of my weaknesses and insecurities. I CAN be stronger that I am now. Thank you, David.
“The MEOL Parliament, one man in particular that I know of, got a hold of their bosses on Phillipos planet in Cassiopeia, the Level 24 beings that helped with intergalactic support of our project, and expressed concern about the high level of corruption among people from Earth. Philippos authorities figured they did not need this problem. Or, as it goes there, they were forced to get rid of me very quickly to suppress the scandal. All they wanted to know AFTER my head had rolled, was “how could an individual fall so low.”
They are kidding me! I’m transfixed by David’s recount of the events, but also, by his impeccable performance.
“And the reason why I fell so low was this.” David continues, giving me a lovely, pleasant smile. “if I accepted Lord Carlton’s deal, I could bring my family to the Strobulus, the “Noah’s Arc”, or “Stairway to Heaven”, or whatever you want to call it. AND get paid ten million dollars.”
That was, basically, David’s confession on the record. He just repeated what I have already heard so, so many times. On our INTERNAL RECORD.
That could not have been hacked. We could have LEAKED it carelessly, yes, but the link could not have been forcefully broken into within the diameter of the Strobulus.
But now I hear that it’s not just us that were sloppy enough to spill the beans (IF that was US!). The Andromedans also do not know the meaning of the words “confidentiality” and “privacy”.
Their rebroadcast of our so reliable Arkchil Channel was HACKED. Supposedly, by the “Immortals”.
So what prevents “The Immortals” from hacking our PERSONAL INTERNAL ARKCHIL CHANNEL, too? Is that what James was talking about after living on Andromeda for a few lifetimes? Everyone acts like the wisest of teachers, but you can’t trust a dog there. What good is your “wisest teacher”, then?
Oh, whatever. David does not take any of this seriously. He has fool-proof Racoon Rocket defense: “The Parliament did not know my TRUE NEEDS, they never cared to know, but they wanted me to work long hours for them. Had they known my TRUE NEEDS they’d see I was on the brink of not just taking a bribe, but jumping off a bridge if needed be.”
And when you learn his true needs, you can’t blame him. It’s all about bringing your loved ones to the Strobulus.
I got him to work for Levin Corp., but that alone did not give him the right to bring his family to the Strobulus.
Only those who were in the Emerald Filament Team Uret could request their families be allowed to the “Stairway To Heaven”.
What did the Parliament care about David Reddington’s family? They cared nothing. Find out about our unmet needs first, before calling us all corrupt.
“It’s not just the money, Sheba, or my family’s physical safety.” David told me just the other night. “It was also to see my family Awaken, instead of going for another incarnation. Only on the Strobulus can they warm up and wake up to the Face of God without actually dying.”
He went home last night. Just for one night. I had to let him go see his wife. Even if those were the last precious moments I was going to have in his presence.
“Oh, the funniest part was when during negotiations James Kellspell accidentally broke through on to our frequency communicating with his feline friend from Western MEOL. We only have one channel from this compound to MEOL, as you know.”
I did not know. How the heck would I know THAT? But David is unaware of how smart he is, of how much he notices and realises as opposed to a regular shmuck like me. A woman or not.
“And this is what we hear.” David continues, unaware of my internal struggles. “Ok, my friend, you want to talk chemistry? I can do that.” Here I think that the air will be filled with a thousand formulas, Sheba! But Kellspell says this: “Boron isn’t a moron, eh?”
“Is that what Jim said on open air while communicating with the alien species?” I breathed out.
“Yes, to that alien cat, on open air!” David laughs gleefully. “Right in the middle of the Parliament’s broadcasting. This is where he was cut out by the Government’s techs, but I almost lost it, it was so funny.”
“Then what happened?” I ask, mesmerised by David’s portly stature. He could have easily been “the President’s Minister.” Sensible, purposeful, but also, affectionate and thrilling.
My David. My David FOREVER.
At 51 years old I am in love all over again! And so what? The man in me died a long time ago. But the woman in me sings like she is 16. That’s all you need to know.
“And then there was a note on my Bridgeplate, saying: “PARLIAMENT KNOWS. RUN.”
I gasp, for I got the same message on mine, the same hour, of course. And I did not know what it meant. I traced the signal back to the Western MEOL, Magellanic Cloud 17, Andromeda Federation”. Well, Western MEOL does not speak any language I have access to. I could “call back” on Jim’s monoclinic signature path, but what would I SAY if they “picked up” their “phone”, or whatever they use? Was I going to say “MEOW, MEOL, please tell me why David Reddington needs to run?!”?
I was going to ask James, but the kerfuffle with Wallace Smith broke out.
By then you literally could not save your head if you threw yourself on the floor. Expletives flew like bullets. Jim went after poor Smith like there was no tomorrow when he found out that Smith was smuggled on the set of Emerald Filament without his permission or even knowledge.
This is when I failed to notify ANYONE about the message I received from MEOL.
“Later I found out that it was none other but Jim’s feline friend, warning me.” David continues.
Jesus Almighty, YES! The cat, the DUMB cat copied his message to more than one source.
“The cat heard the news on their intraplanetary comms, and he decided to earn points with James.” David continues confidently, with a happy smile. He is so reassuring, no matter what.
“How did the cat even find your “number”, granted he operates in a different reality?” I wonder.
“Yep, that’s right, Sheba!” David nods. “Good question.”
I feel warmth spreading all over the inside of me. Like a gulp of a very good, fiery wine. DAVID THINKS I’M RIGHT!
“The dumb fur ball, bless his heart, overcame enormous odds to find my frequency. Then he had to translate the message. He converted the understanding of what happened in HIS REALITY, first, into the Periodic Table Interface, and then, from there, onto an English-language-based platform he had to invent and run on the spot just to send me this message.”
I nod. NOW I know.
“Note the dedication of that stupid fur ball to James and the Emerald Team, Sheba.”
“The cat is not doing it for love. He is doing it for 10 kg of Rhodium.” I respond sadly.
I REALLY want to believe the story about “the selfless kitty on the path to Adherence to Political Upheaval.
But, only time will show. The “stupid fur ball” did save my David.
We will remember that.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
This file is File 3.
It was started 7 LK KRIAGIR DORILIN
File 1 is “Vores Hemmelighed” 2019
File 2 is “Vores Hemmelighed 2” 2020
File 3 is “Here Comes My Martyrdom” 2021