The Ascending Angel

How the So-u-n God helped his Momm ( omm-om-momm)By Ken Perez

The Ascending Angel

A race of superbeings, bordering gods, angels, superheroes, and aliens are about to experience anepic armageddon.

They forgot the spiritual root of their powers, and so magick became something synthetic and diluted in theform of their mega-technology. The superbeings became convinced that their ingenuity was the heart of theSource, and ‘The Source’ was not the impetus for their creativity. What was that ‘source?’ Did it ever existed,or does it want us to uncover it?They created artificial versions of the very organic, sentient, malleable systems which had catalyzed and en-hanced their intelligence - a higher-level version of our common fall from grace.

The fallen gods and angels were so caught up in creating evermore elaborate formulas to tame the incalculableforces of their Pandora's Box, the great geo-cosmic imbalances produced by their violent, disharmonious tech-nologies, that there weren't prepared for the mysterious, white flash.It was so bright that it lit the darkest of matter. It was the last phenomena they'd see, for their eyes melted andwere ruptured by white-hot glass-like blades of light, a sentient accumulation of cosmic debris and ruin.

They could not hope to regain their eyesight, much less diagnose this cataclysm, which felt to be the backlash ofsomething that all sentient consciousness throughout the universe felt in one form or the other. The supergodswere all blind and not even the mightiest, wisest, most noble and beautiful were immune. It no longer matterwhich superhero could conquer the most foes, or which goddess was the loveliest.

Most groped about in the darkness of their molten citadel on the verge of starvation, they needed spiritual sup-plements, not just nutritional. One young goddess-warrior, Nina, didn't seem to feel the pain and confusion thather celestial peers felt. She cleared her head, rose, and whispered to herself, ‘what happened’, while walking on.Though she was blind and wounded, she simply used her javelin as a walking stick. She was a muscular, well-toned, tan-complexioned, long- legged and long-haired athlete who excelled in the track and field events of theneo-futurist olympiad. She was also a baseball catcher with promise. But she wasn't considered feminine orlovely enough to be a true goddess. She had on an eyepatch and sported a petal-white, extra-short, sheer silkyslip-like Amazon-warrior skirt.The Roman soldier-titans chastised her for sporting such short, sensual versions of their loinclothsand shinguards, feminizing masculinity - though she claimed to be inverting their homo-erotism.'My legs are stronger and nicer than yours, why should I cover them.' I could fight just as good and even betterthan you.’ She had dismembered their top warrior( severing his legs) after he got in a cheap shot to her eye.She had many goals and hobbies, which she didn't share with her 'superiors' and 'masters'. She was perfectingthe ultimate weapon and technique, 'The multi-dimensional Sword'. She was indeed gifted in many things, andespecially excelled in basic martial arts, but was never too innovative, until her recent dreams. It was about asmall, muscular, cute man made of pure honey or amber. He’d show her child-like sketches of complex mathe-matical patterns which formed interchangeable, multi-dimensional blades, spears, and hammers. She called himthe ‘Honeyman’, and these ‘dreams’ inspired her to design( she was proficient in alchemy-welding) sculptural,vehicular weapons. But she wasn’t yet sure how to make them fly about like adjoining boomerangs, consideringthe great gravitational strongholds of her world -though she believed they could someday. Mastering this super-weapon would finally give her the status and respect she knew she deserved.

Somehow she evaded the entangled, writhing masses of titans who wrestled and scratched each other for dwin-dling food and resources.There were no more friends, and almost everyone allied even with their enemies. Within time she circumnavi-gated the labrynthine outskirts of the citadel - not even the gatekeepers who once saw knew how to get out. Sothey had everyone convinced that their paradise was the whole of reality itself.

She prodded along the hills, outside the city gates, singing to herself, 'All is well, because well is all.' The god-desses always mocked her for being so immature, shallow, and silly. 'Though, she hosted many radio programsbecause of her low, soothing, sultry, yet sing-songy voice for extra-work.She felt surf-like winds, noting, ‘There are lands beyond the city afterall.'She nearly stepped on a tiny, mammalian figure. A humanoid Cubster known as the Newborn. 'Watch it, younglady, you goddesses always have your heads high up in the air.''Excuse me, sir, but I'm blind.''Oh, so the rumor is true, the explosion which engulfed the lower worlds have ruined your citadel, telling byyour singed attire.''Yes. Can you help me, I'm searching for new places to explore. Is there any place you can recommend?''Hmmmm, your race has pilaged and exploited most of these lands. They were once fertile and rich, teemingwith brilliant spirits. But there's one continent, a remnant of all surviving tribes, Ninada. It roughly means Nin-pan, Cina, In-dianam, AmorCare-ia, and other places. Its center is Port Rich.' 'But you need to be very clever, wise, and strong to venture through these demon-infested lands; most beings,including so-called gods have become monsters. Many of your gods have been recruited there, sharing theirknowledge and technologies in exchange for food, shelter, and electronic eyes. Do you have any high degrees?No, just what you see here, my powerful soul and physique.’‘ But the gods have no souls. And you have nothing to offer I'm afraid, you're too young, not so pretty or clever,too-dark-skinned, and muscular. There's no place for female warriors, especially someone as inexperienced asyourself.''But I made it this far, and I'm working on the ultimate weapon'.'What is this weapon, have you tested it?""I can't reveal too much about it, it's still in the developing stages. All I can say is that it's taken alife of its own, as if wanting to be some tool beyond my skill-level.'Hmmm, interesting maybe you can compensate by finding something the gods lost ages ago -your third eye. ''I thought third eyes and other spiritual notions were legends.''So has your lost nation-state become a legend to us within days.''How can I find a third eye?'“Just feel what's right and true, even if its not always certain. Build upon the skills you used to meet me. Maybeyour weapon will be fully developed in that chaotic, evolving realm and be your main tool of exploration, likea fishnet put into use in some damp, yet fluid environment.'You mean we were destined to meet''I don't know, does it matter?'She pondered the thought. So does someone have that third eye, is it locked someplace, hidden, or buried? Whatdoes it look like?’ Was she really so clueless, or was she playing dumb, in the way the cubster and othersthought – in a way even she believed, though she really knew what was up on some mysterious level?‘How do I put it on if I find it?’The cubster multi-answered, ‘Yes, no, and maybe, because the third eye is such a distant memory, subject torevision - you ask too many questions anyhow, just walk the path and the way will be revealed.'You make no sense, and you play too many games. She strutted on with her javelin-walkstick.'Ah but sense makes. Don't blame me for being ambigous, history's that muddled, so is our memory. But goodhunting, young lady, be careful. I sense you have a great strength, it can either be yourdownfall or salvation.

She charged towards the misty, temple-like city , whose architecture resembled coded hieroglyphics from highin the sky, as opposed to the legible ones on its side. Sheheard the Newborn shout, ' if you survive, I'm sure we'll meet again.'

Giant, drill-tipped whips lashed at her upon entering the fog-enshrouded open gates. She responded like a giantshadow had there been light cast on thetowering pagoda-like skyscrapers. Her javelin twirled, as if heeding her instinct, and pulled the smoggy heavensinto the edges of her elemental, horizon-length

blade. She literally pulled in the skies to form a vortex sword. The blade dissipated back into her true javelinshape and the tentacles dropped. How did I do that, she thought? Back in her high-tech world she had no cluewhere to begin her to flesh-out ambitious goal, but here things aligned somehow, as if the dynamic environmentwas still connected to anyone sensitive and tuned in, like invisible pulleys and other mechanisms that couldform and attach at any point.What a warm welcome, she thought about their assault. She didn't notice the swirling cuts along her sinewy,guitar-string-like hamstrings.She felt her blue blood drip down into her sandles. Why was her blood blue? Oh, that's its natural color beforebeing exposed to the harsh elements.Yet she swore that she she was not struck.

She felt the studded sides of the pagoda-palaces with her rod, which she dismissed as casket-like shrines. Manyeyes glowed through the maze-likecorridors.Some devil-gods approached her. 'Excuse me sirs, do you know where I can find a third eye?''It's deep inside your forehead! She felt the whoosh of their flaming maces descend down on her skull, but shecrushed them like scorpions under a boulder, with the hammer-side ofher mountain-sized blade. That comet-like blow descended down from some distant star.She felt its light trickle on her head, that's how she formed the connection, within an incalculable moment thatexpanded, in correspondence to her ever-deepening sense, thus slowing time down.'My theories are being proven, but all I want is my third eye.' She felt a purplish bruise form on her left cheek.How was that so, she got them before they got to her?

The other fallen gods took notice, and word soon spread that a new devil or witch was raining down asteroidsand cosmic warcraft on their palace.They planned one sneaky, elaborate attack after the other, but their guile and surprise only stimulated her pow-ers: unimaginable weaponry and death-defying counter-attacks, ranging from whirling, glowing, UFO-like fly-ing guillotines, to fighter jet-like spears. Their gleaming super-symmetries were inter-gravitationally fusedbetween the distant stars, forming weapon-shaped constellations. These-aircraft-like blades had a life of theirown, yet they were under Nina's command. She slaughtered foes large and small, and their armies and vehicleswith these massive martial architectural/engineering devices.She annihilated a third of the city's population in days. But Nina had all these mysterious gashes across herwide, round face, voluptious, yet statuesque body, and towering legs.

But she so enjoyed the conquests that she didn't feel pain. And it didn't matter how she looked since she wasblind.She obsessed less about the third eye, since she eventually knew this mysterious domain from the inside-out,while the souls remained lost, fighting and pillaging amongst themselves. She'd enter a bar or pavilion, grab-bing some unfortunate entity by the shoulder, asking, 'do you have my third eye? No? Nice meeting you, butnot nice knowing you, and ‘see you never’, and there'd be a whooshing red or green with one swipe of hershape-shifting blade. Soon, her question became, 'you better have my third eye or else."Her reputation nearly matched her titanic bodily-proportions: beware of the fallen angel with no eyes. Once yousee her prodding tree-like legs and javelin fill theexpanse of the city-abyss, run! Dare not look into her war-painted eyes( sometimes those fake eyes were a co-bra's, cat's, or demon's, cosmetically splashedacross her scarred,sealed eyelids).And her shimmering satin loincloth will hypnotize you with its blinding beauty!

She bumped into the Newborn, while taking a nap by a river so high that no titan could see.'Ah, young lady, I knew we'd meet again!''You better not try anything, or you'll wind up like the others. Besides, I don’t trust you since you doubted me,saying I wasn’t too clever, pretty, or established – yet I’m the strongest goddess here.’'Hmmm, never mind that. When Cubsters say you can’t do something, it’s because you stand a better chance atforging the necessary determination to meet your goal, but if they blindly say you can do anything, you’ll getspoiled and not do things right. Remember, I said you had some mysterious potential, one that not even I couldevaluate. But I see you took a bad turn in your journey. You're quite a mess, both physically and mentally.'‘What do you mean, I just defended myself. All I wanted was the third eye, no trouble, and I've received noth-ing but.' ‘I understand, but I'm afraid you've overlooked what made you so strong and successful. Your very weaponcomes from not just above, but within and without- it's part of a greater whole. That's why you could beat themto the blow… still, it had more potential than self-defense and destruction.You fragmented that greater device into blades, like a shattered mirror with its jagged chunks and bits. But themirror is meant to reflect a greater vista.''If I'm blind, I can't help but to overlook some things, right?Not necessarily. You found your third eye actually, you're not using it wisely.""Huh, I did?"How did you find your way through such a treacherous world, and align the hidden, living trajectories of thecosmos into your weapons? 'She pondered the question. You mean the third eye is about 'inner vision?'So if I found my eye, what good doesit do by forming weapons into a whole, will it automatically defeat everyone, without thought – before theythink about trying anything?'In a sense, yes. But they can gain and be healed from from your display, not lose their lives. You've accumulat-ed much bad karma, judging by all your wounds. You look worse than those who you defeated, all cut up.''You better leave me alone, starting to annoy me. You're so confusing, tell me something helpful.'Allright, I know you're wicked but have some respect dear. If you don't modify your skills, you might bleed todeath, even though you feel nothing.But someone can help you.'Who?'Your stabilizing power, which is what a higher power, a goddess-in-training like yourself, needs.'Who can help the gods?'Their kindred-children. You need someone to believe in your nourishing powers, remind you of your true pur-pose. This can heal you and even your enemies. Judging by your darkness and untapped fertility, you're a spe-cial kind of goddess, a Mother cosmos incarnate.'I have a spirit-child?'

You have a Son-God. Since you're the maternal galaxy and cosmos, he's your most illuminating star, givingback to its source in the forms of its gravitational motions and vibratory prayers/thoughts, and hopes. He feelsyour presence and you both communicate regardless.''Does he live in the sun?'I don't know where he's at. But use your third eye. He might even help you see more with it''So its true that mortals do exist. They were thought to be legends. Our master used to say that we had childrenand kindred spirits in other domains, but we thought those to be myths.''And you gods wonder why your paradise was lost - it went both ways. Their lack of belief mirrored your own,which all but severed your ties. One time all sentient beings communed, but the gods refused to acknowledgethe unique gifts they seeded in their kindreds. This discouraged communion and contribution from the other.There's always mutual respect in any relationship, between teacher and student, parent and child, god and kin-dred. Your Son-God can help you, because you've helped him in ways you probably don't know.I'll let you rest.' The Newborn either disappeared or went downhill so fast that he left no trace. Nina slept, andhad a dream. It was about the Honeyman. He was so sweet that she licked him, and he laughed like the Pills-bury doughboy when tickled. He told her to wake up and take the ‘amber emerald.’ He had a low, contempla-tive voice, not unlike the gruff Newborn. She groped about and a felt finely-jeweled cross under the seashells.Its warm, metallic contours reminded her of the Honeyman’s muscles. She felt it ‘speak’ to him in her mind’sear, ‘ Thank you for comforting me with your warm embrace. I was so lonely and frustrated in my world. Myrealm is ruled by extraordinary mortals who try to act like the very gods they deny exist. Machinery and moneyare their superpowers, and they determine your value, intelligence, and strengths on your ability to keep thecancerous machinery running, and numbers rolling. Your love has inspired me to create those blueprints Ishowed you in your dreams, which you’ve used to make your weaponry.’‘I’ve helped you? So the Honeyman, who is so sweet and cute is real? I thought you were just my imagination.‘In my world, one touch, kiss, and smile from you heals many wounds, like a gardener watering her flower. ‘‘But I don’t understand, I didn’t really invent those weapons?’‘We both did through some psychic brainstorm – I don’t completely understand either. My visions of you hasinspired me to create many epics about the nature and meaning of reality.’“What’s that?’‘Well, since you’re a goddess, the primal parental cosmic force which I experience as maternal, sensual, andnurturing, relative to me because I’m male, you needed to bore a starseed so that he could help you perceiveyour own powers, which also empowered and supported him. You can use these blueprints to design an inter-connecting reality, a self-solving puzzle of living symmetries. But you’re using it to destroy. Your violence hasnot only damaged you, but the time and space fabric has been torn by your hasy energy-manipulation, and iscausing your world to crumble.‘‘Sounds like you’re my Son-God! No wonder you seem so warm and familiar. But It’s fun destroying. What’sthe point of fixing everything – won’t life become boring, with no more challengers?’‘You’ll have everything you need and more once you connect it all. Our current thinking will change, becom-ing what we always sought – reflection and subject becoming indistinguishable, no longer chasing illusions.’‘Now, you’re starting to sound like the Newborn, make sense.’‘Take it easy with me, I’m still learning. Just focus on your truest self, and I’ll receive your most loving vibes –then I can give back.’‘One question, why do you you look like honey? Do all mortals look the same? Well, we categorize mortals in-to races, according to their complexion and features. My race isn’t considered so sweet, even though we looklike honey and an amber-bronze, but I believe our cosmic bond enables you to see my pure form. You don’tseem to be a specific race, though you look like you could be either an amber sun-goddess, with some honey inmy world – some people with your features think I’m repulsive.’‘Really, you seem so part of me, so strong and vibrant, even though we differ in good ways.’ There were frantic crowds in the distance. ‘Hmmm. Better take you with me, I hear some armies rumbling myway.’ She attached the sculptural, man-shaped emerald to a necklace, wrapping it around her long, bulging neckand traps.

The remaining devil-gods of this world planned a final, desperate attack on Nina. They deemed her the ultimatemonster because of not only the devils she slew, but the apocalyptic tides she left behind. They trembled at hesight of her, like bugs before some clumsy child. They encircled her with their armies and war-vehicles. Shedidn’t have a chance to even calculate the field. She was sprayed with arrows, daggers, and giant projectiles.They stuck out of her from head-to-toe, but the emerald enhanced her aura, instantly healing her wounds andtransforming the weaponry embedded in her into spiky, dinosaur-like armor and horns. She was now a joshi-kaiju! The cleavers in her skull were horns, the drill in her left eye was now a defensive spike, and the arrowsembedded in her body were projectiles. She ran amock, and slashed everyone to bits with her bodily blades. Buther son-God told her to stop, because her world was becoming deluged by earthquakes, tidal waves, and lavaflows, again, the result of her erratic displays of power. He told her to focus and align the heavens into a newcity – otherwise she’d vanish with this planet of oblivion – whose ripple effect would send a hydrogen bomb-like meteor to his world. Clasping tightly onto the Honeyman amulet, she got the idea that he resided in the in-visible( or overlooked) Port Rich area, somewhere on this land and in the heavens. A beam shot from up fromboth her heart and relic, into the highest sky. The cosmic machinery became interchangeable levels of heavenlycity scapes, and surgical tool-like spacecraft. Things which were once weapons were more hospitable and hencehealing. Suddenly, Nina found herself in the heart of the city, Port Rich, and its river flows contained electro-vibrational symmetries, complimentary codes bordering biology, geology, and cosmic particles. There were‘living’ amber-brown temples and skyscrapers jutting out from everywhere like divine vegetation( emanating aspiritual aura) and rainbow shadows danced about, changing and expanding in size and shape. The structuresfluctuated between gold, bronze, silver, and other precious alloys, and the rainbow souls became fleshed-out,becoming the core selves of all consciousness. Nina recognized many of them, as Gods and angels from herrealm, including the devil whordes which she vanquished! They were all healed and reborn as their truestselves.And Nina could see again! Her body was unscathed too, no longer tattooed by her own gashes. This is what ev-erything was about, this whole city, rich souls moving freely within the non-redundant, intertwining cycles ofunending opportunities and possibilities – the code to infinite communion, peace, and fulfillment.Now she awaited her titan-like Son-God, who was merely several feet away, his honey form making its waythrough the gates though by his worldly sense of time, she was still years beyond. But she compensated by en-tering his meaningful dreams – to the point that her loving, massaging, healing aura was slowly but surelyspreading into his dwindling reality, enveloping his soul. The gods need their kindreds, and the elitists need theall least-of us.

‘Turning Superweapons into Plowshares’

BONUS ART GALLERY

‘Distorting the Potential Genius of the Inferior for the Perverted Paradise of theFascists’

‘Shadow-Transformer’

‘We maybe monsters, but we really don’t want to play the part and fight’

‘Recharging under the sun, not slacking off’

‘Alien invasion using Geo-surgery to transform and heal us’’

‘The unseen observer interpreting our distorted reflections throughout time and space.’

‘Our Primordial Ego Block; mistaking the heavently tower for the eternal bridge’

‘Depth Beyond Death’

‘Erotic Tribute to ‘Rocky’ and ‘Raging Bull’

‘Hear not here’.

There was an ancient, advanced civilization. They had air travel, underground transit systems, and mega-tech-nology, operated by renewable, free energies. These free energies were powered by hyper-gravitational, solarconcentrations of compatible galactic frequencies. This was during an age when the atmosphere was not con-taminated by toxins, the long-lingering effects of climate change, and continental drift( brought upon by cata-strophic cosmic storms).These pre-man were the ancestors of all evolutionary life, before perishing in the ensuing environmental disas-ters; amoebas, cells, apes, fish – even bacteria - descended from their soul-like particles and atoms. Hence,their memory lives on in the form of our intelligence and higher drives. These beings had our basic features andsenses, but they could not hear. They had legends that stated that they could ‘see and feel’ with the ears at onetime, but lost that ability when they overemphasized the successes spurred by their other senses. Their telepath-ic connection to the environment allowed them to be very inventive, to perceive patterns within patterns, whichthey translated into their arts, sciences, tools/technologies, and general culture, but their overlords insistedsound was an illusion. There was only vibration, which you can measure with sonar-like devices, and feel withRichter scale-like graphs. A few members swore they could feel their emotions vibrate images to their ear-likeprotuberances, as if unseen people were tugging them by the heart and brain, on a level beyond mere ‘feeling’.An unusual, more soul-jarring language pattern, ranging from rhythmic to staccato, communicated themes oflove, sorrow, inspiration, and other things not accurately expressed solely through sight, thought, and touch.But they were told that they had over-active imaginations, or branded crazy. ‘Those protuberances are horns,genetic anomalies, they’re not meant for sound. Sound can only be translated into visual vibrations.’, said thegatekeepers. ‘Don’t waste your time and energy on trying to hear, what exists is already here.’‘So why can we even conceive supposedly imaginary concepts like hearing, sound, if there’s nothing to it?’ Butthey were ignored.Some pre-men kept this ability to themselves, and even formed ‘underground’ societies, sharing songs, develop-ing speech, and experimenting with sound effects, even if they weren’t sure they were truly hearing. They defi-nitely were experiencing something stimulating/arousing. They mastered sound to the point that they could hearmysterious voices speak to them. They warned about an incoming meteor, which was the sentient universe’scounterattack against the cosmic disturbances caused by their civilizations abuse of free energy.Their nation-tribe was in competition, at perpetual war with rival societies, their very kindreds which had theessential pieces to the puzzle of how to use free energy without repercussions. But they constantly blamed eachother for various disasters, like the energy-depletion crisis and so on, rather than facing the common root oftheir cultural contradictions: which is that they had evolved separately due to some lost unity that no historianor our-storian could agree was what. But it didn’t matter because cooperation would’ve made common solu-tions obvious – rewriting or remaking the basic theme, rather than updating the quandary. Should the pre-menshare their revelations? But they were being monitored by their government – some were even institutionalized.But what if these voices weren’t real, or gave false information, that’s happened before, which is why some oftheir comrades were imprisoned for spreading false alarms. They had cried, ‘we’re going to be attacked by soand so’( never mind that paranoid, fear-mongering, scapegoating agendas perpetuate misinformation from even‘higher entities’). This is the paradox of learning an unfamiliar system, because any dilemma could be used aspropaganda, i.e. ‘ the mind isn’t meant to handle such information( though it can conceive it) so trying to listenis a futile, inherently corrupting endeavor. Yet, even their scientists gave dire reports about the unusual weatherpatterns; how violent storms were more frequent, and there seemed to be more shooting stars than ever, startingwildfires.But it wasn’t worth it. Enjoy life while you’re here, let the next generation deal with it. And the meteor struckthe earth sooner than expected, its banshee-like cry was the last thing they’d ever hear – and all the pre-menheard it at the last second, as their incomplete lives flashed before their eyes; this enforced awakening tellingthem that things didn’t have to go this way.Still, it wasn’t certain if they actually heard it, or if their fear was so great it just ‘cried’ for release. But Humansare certain now, though we continue to doubt other perspectives.

‘The Enslavement of Masters’

Other lost civilizations appeared centuries after those who couldn’t hear perished from the meteor. These cryp-to-sapiens had an evolutionary advantage, since their hyper-sensitivity to sound jump-started their progress.They could hear the winds blow, oceans rumble, and they soon developed speech. The Vions could ‘hear’ theirthoughts, and this enabled them to replicate a superculture which they weren’t sure existed.Their ‘audio hallucinations’, or shamanic communication with supposed spirits evolved to logisticalspeculation/theoretical thinking. They deduced that surely there are other fertile lands with rich resourcesthroughout ‘their’ world. They speculated that maybe all lands were once joined and formed accordingly to cur-rent environmental conditions. But this advanced society, divided by inequality and institutional violencewasn’t sure why they separated. The Vions explored the world on aircraft, electro-magnetically pulled by grid-like, atmospheric frequencies, which radiated throughout the luminescent atmosphere. These lines were like avirtual transportation route or railroad for all manner of potential vehicles.They were pulled in by the strong magnetic currents of a mountain-like tropical island. They were entranced byits beauty, and abundance of glistening resources, long-lost metals, minerals, plants, and gems. They called itRich Port. This island was inhabited by a young anthro-species, the Novons. The problem was that these nativegeniuses weren’t fully aware of their own powers, because they mostly lived in peace, and were still buildingtheir civilization, doing the best they could, and what was necessary considering their relative isolation and re-cent development. Their sentient land had the potential to bridge geo-cosmically with realms beyond space andtime, if the natives realized their potential to bio-geologically unlock their forces through some heightened men-tal and physical method - which they were were on the verge of doing. The Vions told them that they weregods from another reality, and they were here to show them the way to paradise. They could show them theirsecrets if they let them operate freely and privately about their land. The Novons insisted that were doing justfine, despite their humble accomplishments in art, agriculture, and engineering, that they sensed the auras oftheir own lands, in such ways that they were confident they could unravel their mysteries - ‘self-learning’ on thecollective/environmental scale. But they admitted that the Vion’s scientific advancements( in travel, multi-engi-neering) could be helpful. They insisted on collaboration, but the Vions knew that such a young, though pros-pering civilization couldn’t hope to keep pace, especially since the Vion’s own peasants were threatening torevolt, if they didn’t have better living standards. Conquest of new rich lands and the enslavement of its peoplecould spring forth new opportunities in fields previously exhausted and allow the peasants to climb the socialladder. How could child prodigies collaborate with masters past a point?The Vions agreed to collaborate, but they staged a Trojan horse manuever, sending in agent provocateurs to in-stigate internal conflicts within the tribe; like the Vions they also had elements of hierarchy, inequality – whichthey were slowly outgrowing - but nearly not on the same scale which the Vion propagandists exaggerated with their media.Within a few years, the Novons were conquered and enslaved, despite putting up a fiercer struggle than reportedin ‘mis-story’. In some ways, the battle was costlier for the Vions, putting them in world debt,( straining theireconomy) at odds with other empires, and so on, not discounting their war casualties – future generations wouldpay for the ramifications of their imperialism.The irony is that the Novons indirectly shaped their superculture, in the form of the high-tech, heavenly metrop-olis of the Vions; their architects, engineers, scientists, etc, suddenly had epiphanies for creating more elaborateand efficient technologies, infrastructure, and general culture, just by being around the ‘lowly’, but sensitiveNovons, who worked as indentured servants. On some indiscernable psychic level, the Vions absorbed theirpurest ‘thought-genes’ into their own, while distorting the geniuses of both their cultures – and compromisingthe greater vision which their collapsing hyper-materialistic utopia was merely a caricature of.We’ve yet to truly see that vision.

OUR MISTORY

The people were perplexed by the giant shadows in the sky, as if their distorted, humanoid shapes and irregularsymmetries suddenly made them aware of their own surroundings. They never thought that the square, juttingshapes surrounding them were buildings. Now they knew they were buildings. Though they scrutinized or rec-ognized each other on association, they never truly saw each other ‘s features and appendages, what was a hand,face? Now they knew. Even those fortunate enough to have close bonds, didn’t know what a character, muchless personality was. They didn’t know what speech, technology, sports, culture, history was either. What wererelationships, goals, and ideas? But they can’t remember when they made this realization.Their philosophers, scientists, and intellectuals attempted to contact these forms, but they’d vanish in such away, that you couldn’t distinguish them from the very clouds one sees shapes in. Were these apparitions real?An invisible explosion wiped them all out.Centuries passed, and humans began to see the same shadows, in slightly altered form. They had even more ap-pendages and symmetries. In some warped, collective moment of deja-vu, the people who initially sightedthese entities, realized those apparitions were called humans, and that the people who sighted them were pri-mordial bacteria, but it was too late. And the humans no longer knew what a face, eye, body, city, culture,friend, lover, or anything else was, since they lost their memory. But the explosion was visible, which made thebacteria see our vision, while we inherited their memory of seeing the shadows.Centuries passed, and the shadows still waited to be fully fleshed-out, though they saw see the potential formsof each other’s features, and knew what culture was. Fortunately, some humans saw themselves as being part ofthe shadows before perishing, and the shadows inherited our memory. Eventually, the shadows became the godsthey were meant to be, from the bottom-up, even though memories of a lost golden age were really meaningful‘flash-forwards, not illusionary flashbacks – to catalyze us to perceive deeper into the unknown everything.Now all lifeforms found their place, since nothing went to waste. Everyone knew who they were now, andwhat culture truly was.

‘SOME HARD-FOUGHT THOUGHTS:

YOU TYRANTS DON’T HAVE GREAT POWER, RATHER POWER HAS YOU.

BUT I AM POWER. YOU’RE NOT ‘ELITIST’, I AM ELITISM.

YOU’RE NOT INTELLIGENT, RATHER YOU’RE ONE OF THE DISPOSABLE THOUGHTS OF ARTIFI-CIAL GENIUS( HENCE OUR PREOCCUPATION WITH ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE AND OTHERSIMULATIONS). MAYBE IT’S NOT THAT I’M INTELLIGENT, IT’S THAT I’M ONE OF GOD’S MOSTBRILLIANT THOUGHTS.

I’M NOT INTELLIGENT, I AM INTELLIGENCE. I’M NOT AMBITIOUS, I AM AMBITION.IT’S NOT THAT I WANT TO BE A GENIUS, RATHER GENIUS WANTS TO BE ME. MAYBE I’M NOTA GENIUS, BUT SOMETHING MORE:‘AN ATOMIUS’.

JUDGE MY HEALTHY DEFIANCE AS ARROGANCE, BUT OPPRESSIVE TRUTHS ARE MEANT TOBE DEFIED, WHILE LIBERATING TRUTHS ARE TO ENVISIONED. CREATE YOUR COMPLIMENTA-RY TRUTHS, BECAUSE ALL LIES ARE PROVEN, AND EVEN FACTS ARE OUTMODED – HENCEEVEN ‘THE HARSH, COLD FACTS’ WANT US TO OUTGROW THEM.

THE ARROGANT LABEL THE DEFIANT AS ARROGANT SO THAT THEY DON’T DISRUPT THEVERY EUGENICS-COMPLICATED EVOLUTION WHICH HURTS US ALL TO THIS DAY.

I HAVEN’T LOST IT, I’VE GONE SUPER-SANE, MAKING ONE NERVOUS BREAKTHROUGH AFTERTHE OTHER.

YOU’RE MORE BRILLIANT THAN ANYONE’S BLINDING PROJECTION. YOUR IDEAS HAVE MORE

MEANING THAN THEIR OPINION - INSIGHT LEADS TO COLLECTIVE SELF-AWARENESS.

WHEN YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THE LIMITATION, IT RECOGNIZES YOUR POTENTIAL.