Emergence: Section Six, The Empire; Part Thirty-seven, Bureaucrat, Collected Chapters

Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter One: Gatekeeper		Pt. 37, Ch. 01 He was an image of hope to the people, an example of a life rewarded after incredible suffering; symbol of re-birth. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Two: Desk Jockey		Pt. 37, Ch. 02 He was celebrated by both the Empire, and Continuum; as he moved from the lowest order into a position of authority. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Three: Pencil Pusher	Pt. 37, Ch. 03 From doorman to receptionist, to stenographer; his celebrity made him in demand. He rose up the hierarchy mindfully. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Four: File Clerk	Pt. 37, Ch. 04 At his yearly reviews he was raised up, given more freedom. He relished it. He continued to look beyond his station. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Five: Monitor		Pt. 37, Ch. 05 The Empire required controls at every level. In time he rose to a position of reporting on a wide range of activity. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Six: Quality Assurance		Pt.37, Pt.06 Observe, report, ensure that the work of government is carried out efficiently; he never once dropped his diligence. #Emergence
Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven, Chapter Seven: Supervisor		Pt.37, Ch.07 He became a chief administrator. There was no place left for him to rise, so they drafted him into military service. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Six, The Empire Bureaucrat; Part Thirty-seven Collected Chapters		Section 06, The Empire Part 37, Bureaucrat Chapters 01 Gatekeeper 02 Desk Jockey 03 Pencil Pusher 04 File Clerk 05 Monitor 06 Quality Assurance 07 Supervisor #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten

The Man with Lightning in his Eye (Parts One and Two of Five)

I

I watched the rain fall. I watched, and waited while the gutters filled to overflowing, and watched as the water spread into the street. I watched as the rain splashed in the growing pools, splashed off the concrete; pelting cars, soaking through the awnings of the store fronts that lined the street the busy street.

The cops were working their beat; despite the rain, but they were not working for the good people of the city. They were cops on the take, moonlighting for the pimps and hustlers. Their wet rain slickers shimmered under the street lamps, rain drops reflecting the light. The refracted sparkling drops of water shone like tiny stars jumping off their backs and shoulders. Cops on the beat with guns loaded, cops wrapped in plastic, walking past barrels of trash; they giggled at the working girls on the street, girls who, like them, came from bad places, and like them, girls who were not allowed to take a night off.

Rain drummed against the roof of the newsstand where I watched the action on the street, and waited for a story. Rain beat against the cars leaking oil, parked against the curb; oil dripping from their engines into the rivers of water flowing down the gutters; flowing with the rainbow film of a petroleum slick flowing into the street.  The dirty water came up over the curb, pooling on the sidewalk.  The newsstand man had had enough of it, and with my feet now soaked; so had I.

I felt the hard rain falling like a curse.

I struggled with my trench coat as the newsstand closed down, taking away my shelter, and I ran into the drugstore for a bottle of whiskey.

I used the fact that I had made a purchase to justify my lingering. The drugstore had a no loitering policy posted in the entryway; a means of deterring the vagrants, which on most days could easily mean me, but today I had the money for a flask, and buying it gave me the time I needed to wait, and watch the street life a little longer.

The cops kept busy with the working girls; blowing whistles, stirring them out of their hiding places, out of the alcoves, out from under the awnings where they were hoping to catch a break from the rain. This pleased the pimps to no end; having the boys on the beat do their jobs, while they sat snug in their cars. That is what they paid them for. The cash the cops took was not just hush money, those weekly payments were not bribes. The cops were on the payroll. 

Rain could never stop the business on the street; no matter how long, no matter how hard it fell. 

Nice, new, clean cars lined up in front of the hustlers, driven by not-so-nice people purchasing flesh, or buying drugs; hustler handing off wrapped parcels, brown bags, and baggies, through cracked car windows in the rain.  The cops on the beat were not policemen. They were traffic control for a market that never slept.

There was some commotion in one of the taverns across the street. A big man was pushed out of doors of the corner bar; shoved onto the street by a group of men that I could not make out. I could not see them clearly through the falling water. They lingered in the doorway; blocking it from the fat man, if should try to get back in. Or maybe the fellows were just scared. Maybe they had already spent their courage. And were now just huddling together for protection.

I watched their arms and hands shooting out from the darkened doorway; flashing into the world…fists pumped at the air, fingers pointing, bodies pressed close to each other, for safety, out of fear.

The big man smiled wickedly; smiling with that diamond flash that makes you think of a villain in a movie. He rocked back on his feet. He seemed a little unsteady. He stumbled back toward the curb of the street; fell against a cream-colored coupe was parked in front of the bar.

I felt sorry for the bastard, with his fat face smashed into the side panel, his moustache hard-scraped by a piece of jagged metal peeling off the door. I could see that it shaved more than a few hairs off his cheek as a sharp line of blood began dripping down his chin, but then disappeared as suddenly as it came. I thought it was just the rain washing the blood off his face. Though it seemed to wash the wound away as well. 

II

He was hatless, balding, drunk, but he was not defeated. The crowd of men in the doorway began to thin out. The fat man pushed himself up off the ground and pulled his leather raincoat around his huge frame. He looked in my direction, with the rain splashing off his face. I thought for a moment that he was staring right at me, staring through me, but then I saw the headlights of an oncoming car flash off his glass eye. I knew then that hollow stare which I felt sucking me in, sucking like a vacuum; that it truly was hollow, emanating from the lifeless stone in his socket.

A tall kid in a rubber jerkin came walking out of a bar, his glistening black hair plastered to his face by the rain. He had two things in his hand, the man’s hat; which I could see was an expensive boulder, and his tab, which was unpaid when he was tossed from the bar. 

The beat cops were headed their way.

The fat man looked around. He took the measure of the street, and his mouth twisted into a grin. The dark night became even darker, as if the rain-clouded canopy above the city lights swelled and thickened impossibly past the point of bursting; before releasing the deep stores of water that they were carrying.

The rain that was hammering the city doubled its flow. Lightening flashed, and thunder cracked. Alarm bells peeled, and sirens wailed over the roof tops, jangled and sputtering in their rain-muffled voices.

I watched as the story I was looking for unfolded in front of me. Everybody on the street stopped in their tracks; the working girls, the cops, as another lightning bolt hammered into the tall boy, cutting him down like a slender tree, filling the whole street with hot-white light, licking the fallen boy with tongues of fire, as if he was being kissed by the Holy-Spirit. The thunder cracked louder than dynamite, shaking everything not nailed down, rattling the windows of every store on the block.

The fat man was laughing when the boy hit the pavement. He and he alone was un-cowed by the storm. He reached down swept his boulder from the hands of the fallen boy, with a grace move that belied his size; placing it on his bare head. His great frame shook. He made a gesture to the body of the boy laying in the pooling water on the sidewalk. His lips were moving as if in prayer, or more like he was telling the kid the secret words that would get him past the guardians at the gates of paradise. Then he turned on the balls of his feet and dashed away. He moved faster than any right minded person would imagine his bulk would allow.

I started after him, with the cops behind me.

The Man with Lightning in His Eye (Part Two of Five)

He was hatless, balding, drunk, but he was not defeated. The crowd of men in the doorway began to thin out. The fat man pushed himself up off the ground and pulled his leather raincoat around his huge frame. He looked in my direction, with the rain splashing off his face. I thought for a moment that he was staring right at me, staring through me, but then I saw the headlights of an oncoming car flash off his glass eye. I knew then that hollow stare which I felt sucking me in, sucking like a vacuum; that it truly was hollow, emanating from the lifeless stone in his socket.

A tall kid in a rubber jerkin came walking out of a bar, his glistening black hair plastered to his face by the rain. He had two things in his hand, the man’s hat; which I could see was an expensive boulder, and his tab, which was unpaid when he was tossed from the bar. 

The beat cops were headed their way.

The fat man looked around. He took the measure of the street, and his mouth twisted into a grin. The dark night became even darker, as if the rain-clouded canopy above the city lights swelled and thickened impossibly past the point of bursting; before releasing the deep stores of water that they were carrying.

The rain that was hammering the city doubled its flow. Lightening flashed, and thunder cracked. Alarm bells peeled, and sirens wailed over the roof tops, jangled and sputtering in their rain-muffled voices.

I watched as the story I was looking for unfolded in front of me. Everybody on the street stopped in their tracks; the working girls, the cops, as another lightning bolt hammered into the tall boy, cutting him down like a slender tree, filling the whole street with hot-white light, licking the fallen boy with tongues of fire, as if he was being kissed by the Holy-Spirit. The thunder cracked louder than dynamite, shaking everything not nailed down, rattling the windows of every store on the block.

The fat man was laughing when the boy hit the pavement. He and he alone was un-cowed by the storm. He reached down swept his boulder from the hands of the fallen boy, with a grace move that belied his size; placing it on his bare head. His great frame shook. He made a gesture to the body of the boy laying in the pooling water on the sidewalk. His lips were moving as if in prayer, or more like he was telling the kid the secret words that would get him past the guardians at the gates of paradise. Then he turned on the balls of his feet and dashed away. He moved faster than any right minded person would imagine his bulk would allow.

I started after him, with the cops behind me.

A Homily – The Gospel of Luke 16:19 - 31 ©

A Homily – The Gospel of Luke 16:19 - 31 ©

The Gospel of the Day – 2016.09.25

The Vision of Abraham and Lazarus, A Lack of Charity

Jesus said to the Pharisees, ‘There was a rich man who used to dress in purple and fine linen and feast magnificently every day. And at his gate there lay a poor man called Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even came and licked his sores. Now the poor man died and was carried away by the angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.

  ‘In his torment in Hades he looked up and saw Abraham a long way off with Lazarus in his bosom. So he cried out, “Father Abraham, pity me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.” “My son,” Abraham replied “remember that during your life good things came your way, just as bad things came the way of Lazarus. Now he is being comforted here while you are in agony. But that is not all: between us and you a great gulf has been fixed, to stop anyone, if he wanted to, crossing from our side to yours, and to stop any crossing from your side to ours.”

  ‘The rich man replied, “Father, I beg you then to send Lazarus to my father’s house, since I have five brothers, to give them warning so that they do not come to this place of torment too.” “They have Moses and the prophets,” said Abraham “let them listen to them..” “Ah no, father Abraham,” said the rich man “but if someone comes to them from the dead, they will repent.” Then Abraham said to him, “If they will not listen either to Moses or to the prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone should rise from the dead.”’

False Narratives in the Gospel

There are readings in the Gospel that contradict everything Jesus himself taught.

This is one of those readings.

This is not a parable, it is not meant to teach anything but fear. It is given as a means of justifying the first Christians, especially in those communities outside of Palestine, in their desire to see some others excluded from their charity.

There are clues given; by which we can see that this is a false interpretation of Jesus’ teaching.

The first clue is the heavily mythologized imagery, imagery of the afterlife the presence of Lazarus in the Bosom of Abraham (imagined here as an analogy of Elysium), the abode of the blessed dead.

Another clue is in the reference to Hades, the description of the gulf between it and the blessed realm. Jesus did not speak in concrete terms regarding the afterlife.

Another clue is in the way that the author riffs on the name of Lazarus, which is the name of a man who we know Jesus loved. The author builds up the narrative in a way that draws a clear connection between Lazarus and the tales of the Syro-Phoenician woman, who also, like a dog, asks for scraps at the table of Christ.

In this way the author connects everyone who is viewed as an outsider in the believing community, on the basis of nationalism, and ethnicity, to Lazarus, who was beloved by Jesus; the man for whom Jesus wept.

The final clue we are given so that we can see this reading as false, is the central message of the reading itself. The message that is given is that Jesus is content to let people die in their sins, suffer in eternity, and never have recourse to salvation. This message is in stark contrast to his teaching on love, forgiveness, and mercy.

We should always be mindful of the way the prejudices of human beings, in the era when the gospels were first being written, creep into the narrative to rob us of the truth.

26^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

May You Live in Interesting Times ~ Ancient Curse (Part Six)

Editorial, The Week in Review – Analysis, Commentary, Opinion

09.24.2016

May You Live in Interesting Times ~ Ancient Curse

Part Six

Donald Trump is running for President of the United States.

He has no experience in government. He is a television personality.

He has a history of failed business ventures going back decades; multiple bankruptcies, and thousands of lawsuits filed against him.

He is currently the subject of a class action lawsuit alleging that he committed fraud on thousands of people across the country; Trump University.

It is likely that he bribed the attorney general of Florida so that she would not have her office participate in that suit. He paid her off with a campaign contribution, the check was written to her by his charitable foundation. That was illegal, his foundation is not allowed to make political contributions. He paid a small fine when he was caught.

He has not given to his own foundation for nearly a decade. He deposits other people’s money in its coffers. On several occasions he has used those monies for his own enrichment and benefit; paying out legal settlements, buying football memorabilia, etc…

He is currently named as a defendant in a civil suit in California, alleging that he sexually assaulted a twelve-year-old girl.

More than one of his campaign advisers has ties to the Russia, and the Kremlin.

He owes various Russian oligarchs hundreds of millions of dollars.

He will not release his tax returns.

He claims to be a billionaire, but his debts may exceed his assets.

He is nominee of the Republican Party for President.

He is a liar, a fraud, and cheat.

Emergence: Section Six, The Empire; Part Thirty-six, Servant, Collected Chapters

Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter One: The Oppressed		Pt. 36, Ch. 01 The Empire ruled every civilization founded by the children of the Ancients; ruling with power, crushing the people. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Two: The Suppressed		Pt. 36, Ch. 02 Dissent was punished with brutish joy. Imperial police delighted in torture; feeding the appetites of the Continuum. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Three: The Repressed	Pt. 36, Ch. 03 Under the heel of the Imperial police; life was a struggle. Go unnoticed, blend in; these were the keys to survival. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Four: The Depressed	Pt. 36, Ch. 04 Apart from the nobility, the lives of the people were sorrowful. Most were angry, without hope, desperate and alone. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Five: Hostage		Pt. 36, Ch. 05 He was a media darling before he developed a conscience. Then he turned his attention to the plight of the people. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Six: Victim		Pt. 36, Pt. 06 The Imperial power built him up, reveled in his celebrity; then took him down. He became a sacrifice for the Empire. #Emergence
Servant; Part Thirty-six, Chapter Seven: Convert		Pt. 36, Ch. 07 In the moment he lost everything; he gave in. Continuum restored him to life; an idol, newly created as a superstar. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Six, The Empire Servant; Part Thirty-six Collected Chapters		Section 06, The Empire Part 36, Servant Chapters 01 The Oppressed 02 The Suppressed 03 The Repressed 04 The Depressed 05 Hostage 06 Victim 07 Convert #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten

The Man with Lightning in his Eye - (Part 1 of 5)

The Man with Lightning in his Eye

Part One of Five

I watched the rain fall. I watched, and waited while the gutters filled to overflowing, and watched as the water spread into the street. I watched as the rain splashed in the growing pools, splashed off the concrete; pelting cars, soaking through the awnings of the store fronts that lined the street the busy street.

The cops were working their beat; despite the rain, but they were not working for the good people of the city. They were cops on the take, moonlighting for the pimps and hustlers. Their wet rain slickers shimmered under the street lamps, rain drops reflecting the light. The refracted sparkling drops of water shone like tiny stars jumping off their backs and shoulders. Cops on the beat with guns loaded, cops wrapped in plastic, walking past barrels of trash; they giggled at the working girls on the street, girls who, like them, came from bad places, and like them, girls who were not allowed to take a night off.

Rain drummed against the roof of the newsstand where I watched the action on the street, and waited for a story. Rain beat against the cars leaking oil, parked against the curb; oil dripping from their engines into the rivers of water flowing down the gutters; flowing with the rainbow film of a petroleum slick flowing into the street.  The dirty water came up over the curb, pooling on the sidewalk.  The newsstand man had had enough of it, and with my feet now soaked; so had I.

I felt the hard rain falling like a curse.

I struggled with my trench coat as the newsstand closed down, taking away my shelter, and I ran into the drugstore for a bottle of whiskey.

I used the fact that I had made a purchase to justify my lingering. The drugstore had a no loitering policy posted in the entryway; a means of deterring the vagrants, which on most days could easily mean me, but today I had the money for a flask, and buying it gave me the time I needed to wait, and watch the street life a little longer.

The cops kept busy with the working girls; blowing whistles, stirring them out of their hiding places, out of the alcoves, out from under the awnings where they were hoping to catch a break from the rain. This pleased the pimps to no end; having the boys on the beat do their jobs, while they sat snug in their cars. That is what they paid them for. The cash the cops took was not just hush money, those weekly payments were not bribes. The cops were on the payroll. 

Rain could never stop the business on the street; no matter how long, no matter how hard it fell. 

Nice, new, clean cars lined up in front of the hustlers, driven by not-so-nice people purchasing flesh, or buying drugs; hustler handing off wrapped parcels, brown bags, and baggies, through cracked car windows in the rain.  The cops on the beat were not policemen. They were traffic control for a market that never slept.

There was some commotion in one of the taverns across the street. A big man was pushed out of doors of the corner bar; shoved onto the street by a group of men that I could not make out. I could not see them clearly through the falling water. They lingered in the doorway; blocking it from the fat man, if should try to get back in. Or maybe the fellows were just scared. Maybe they had already spent their courage. And were now just huddling together for protection.

I watched their arms and hands shooting out from the darkened doorway; flashing into the world…fists pumped at the air, fingers pointing, bodies pressed close to each other, for safety, out of fear.

The big man smiled wickedly; smiling with that diamond flash that makes you think of a villain in a movie. He rocked back on his feet. He seemed a little unsteady. He stumbled back toward the curb of the street; fell against a cream-colored coupe was parked in front of the bar.

I felt sorry for the bastard, with his fat face smashed into the side panel, his moustache hard-scraped by a piece of jagged metal peeling off the door. I could see that it shaved more than a few hairs off his cheek as a sharp line of blood began dripping down his chin, but then disappeared as suddenly as it came. I thought it was just the rain washing the blood off his face. Though it seemed to wash the wound away as well. 

A Homily – The Gospel of Luke 16:1 - 13 ©

The Gospel of the Day – 2016.09.18

Stewardship

Jesus said to his disciples, ‘There was a rich man and he had a steward denounced to him for being wasteful with his property. He called for the man and said, “What is this I hear about you? Draw me up an account of your stewardship because you are not to be my steward any longer.” Then the steward said to himself, “Now that my master is taking the stewardship from me, what am I to do? Dig? I am not strong enough. Go begging? I should be too ashamed. Ah, I know what I will do to make sure that when I am dismissed from office there will be some to welcome me into their homes.”

  Then he called his master’s debtors one by one. To the first he said, “How much do you owe my master?” “One hundred measures of oil” was the reply. The steward said, “Here, take your bond; sit down straight away and write fifty.” To another he said, “And you, sir, how much do you owe?” “One hundred measures of wheat” was the reply. The steward said, “Here, take your bond and write eighty.”

  ‘The master praised the dishonest steward for his astuteness. For the children of this world are more astute in dealing with their own kind than are the children of light.

  ‘And so I tell you this: use money, tainted as it is, to win you friends, and thus make sure that when it fails you, they will welcome you into the tents of eternity. The man who can be trusted in little things can be trusted in great; the man who is dishonest in little things will be dishonest in great. If then you cannot be trusted with money, that tainted thing, who will trust you with genuine riches? And if you cannot be trusted with what is not yours, who will give you what is your very own?

  ‘No servant can be the slave of two masters: he will either hate the first and love the second, or treat the first with respect and the second with scorn. You cannot be the slave both of God and of money.’ 

(NJB)

Where is your Heart

Find your way in the world.

The world is a capricious place.

Find your way.

Take the good with bad, you have no other choice.

Take the bad with good.

You may steer your own vessel, but you do not control the storm, the wind, the rain, the waves, or the current. You have little say in the choices that other people make.

Be loving, merciful, and just; strive to possess these qualities; regardless of how you fail, because you will fail time and time again, regardless of your failings, love what is good and avoid what is evil.

Be kind to people, and develop friendships, we cannot go through life without them. We need each other, we are communal beings. When age and sickness come upon us, we will die without loving friends and family.

The world is full of caprice, we cannot save up enough money, stores of food to survive an ordinary calamity, and the world is full of calamities. We cannot survive them without our friends.

25^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

May You Live in Interesting Times ~ Ancient Curse (Part Five)

Editorial, The Week in Review – Analysis, Commentary, Opinion

09.17.2016

May You Live in Interesting Times ~ Ancient Curse

Part Five

The campaign for the presidency stayed interesting this week, and dismaying.

Former 1^st lady, former Senator, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton returned to the campaign trail after taking a few days of rest to recuperate from a bout of bacterial pneumonia. She had to take some time off to rest and recover, even in the midst of republican conspiracies that have been circulating about her health, her physical strength, the limits of her endurance, and her stamina.

Hillary Clinton did not want to show weakness; this is both understandable, and forgivable. However, her flagging health fed directly into the rumors her opponents had been circulating against her.

She responded by taking her rest, releasing an update to her health records, and the coming back to the campaign in force. Meanwhile her opponent, Donald Trump, T-Rump, issued a new health summary that lied about his height, his weight, and in his typical macho-man fashion, his testosterone level. Because he lies so much, the entire report may well be false.

It is the middle of September, and there is only slightly more than one and a half months to go until election day, and at this late point in the campaign the media is finally figuring out that they have a responsibility to call T-Rump on his lies, or at least some of them. They did not call him out on the obvious lies written in his health summary.

Many journalists have however called T-Rump out for lying about Hillary Clinton, lying about the role her 2008 presidential campaign played in promoting the conspiracy theory that our President; Barrack Obama, is not a citizen, and therefore not eligible to be President of the United States.

T-Rump was himself the chief promoter of that conspiracy. He promoted it arduously, for many years, while at the same time promoting the idea, that he is secretly a Muslim, secretly in league with the terrorists who threaten our citizens, and our interests around the world, secretly not a graduate of Harvard University, and so forth, and so on.

This week, with one sentence, T-Rump tried to escape responsibility for that, and blame Hillary instead. It was sad, it was pathetic, it was obvious, and utterly false.

The man is a shameless liar.

The media seemed to catching on this week. The began to call T-Rump out for these obvious lies, and they have begun to talk openly about his habit of lying. The question remains, can they keep it up? Will they be able to challenge him and his people whenever they lie? Can they investigate his pattern of fabrications? Will they be able to hold him accountable?

T-Rump ended his week by suggesting that Hillary’s Secret Service detail be disarmed, musing about what would likely happen to her if they were not armed, feeding into a pattern of his, wherein he suggests possible avenues of violence that could be directed toward her, and seeming to delight in it.

T-Rump will not be satisfied if he does not win. He would rather see his opponent killed than lose, and if he does win, he threatens to lock her up, to silence any possible avenues of dissent coming from her, her camp, or her supporters.

They are interesting, sad, and doleful times.

Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474; Collected Parts

Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Part Twenty-nine, Identity Collected Chapters	Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 29, Identity Chapters 01 Sleep 02 Awakening 03 The Collective 04 Remembering 05 Primordial-Self 06 Id 07 Ego #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter One: Sleep	Pt. 29, Ch. 01 There was darkness; a placid ocean under the black shroud. Silent, yet shifting; it pulsed like the forgotten heart. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Two: Awakening	Pt. 29, Ch. 02 He awoke in the dark place where his consciousness was sequestered; awoke in the current of all the others with him. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Three: The Collective	Pt. 29, Ch. 03 He could feel the collective pressing in on him; sensing his own distinctiveness in a way that no one else ever had. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Four: Remembering		Pt. 29, Ch. 04 As he awoke Jim remembered; life before the great sleep. Before the Continuum; he remembered everything. He planned. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Five: Primordial-Self		Pt. 29, Ch. 05 Differentiation begins with the desire to continue; as an individual, not merely a member of the collective. I am I. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Six: Id		Pt. 29, Pt. 06 A drive was building in the depths of his self; to taste, and to see, to feel the touch of flesh, of wind, and heat. #Emergence
Identity; Part Twenty-nine, Chapter Seven: Ego		Pt. 29, Ch. 07 From sleep in the deep-dark, undulating ocean of pre-consciousness he awoke, was recognized; a lost brother, reborn. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Translation; Part Thirty Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 30, Translation Chapters 01 Loss 02 Absolution 03 Convergence 04 Adrift 05 Permeation 06 Collective 07 Remnant #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter One: Loss		Pt. 30, Ch. 01 Loss overwhelmed him. As he regained his senses, he was inundated by the knowledge of what he lost in the big sleep. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Two: Absolution		Pt. 30, Ch. 02 Emerging from the well of consciousness, he was reborn. The dread, and malaise he took with him to sleep, were gone. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Three: Convergence		Pt. 30, Ch. 03 His return was met with shock; surprise, if such a feeling could be ascribed to the Continuum. It was unprecedented. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Four: Adrift		Pt. 30, Ch. 04 After returning he was isolated. First there was curiosity, then nothing. He could not share the collective concern. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Five: Permeation		Pt. 30, Ch. 05 The desire of the Continuum filled him; fascination with trivia, frivolity, and the deep emotions they delighted in. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Six: Collective		Pt. 30, Pt. 06 Democracy; the group mind had a gravity that pulled individual members into it, capturing them in a form of bondage. #Emergence
Translation; Part Thirty, Chapter Seven: Remnant		Pt. 30, Ch. 07 Jim was a curiosity; out of synch with the Collective. He was a fragment of history from an epoch without relevance. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Silence; Part Thirty-one Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 31, Silence Chapters 01 Paralysis 02 Erosion 03 Crucible 04 Hearing 05 Seeing 06 Feeling 07 Being #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter One: Paralysis		Pt. 31, Ch. 01 He was forgotten, drifting unseen by the collective; removed from their consumptive orgies of vicarious experiences. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Two: Erosion		Pt. 31, Ch. 02 His bond to the Collective faded; to their values, and fears. It was a new life; awake to himself, but dead to them. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Three: Crucible		Pt. 31, Ch. 03 Coming from the great sleep was like passing through the eye of a needle. His essence changed. He became a catalyst. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Four: Hearing		Pt. 31, Ch. 04 He sensed the current of thought pulsing through the collective and the deeper current of the sleepers. It woke him. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Five: Seeing		Pt. 31, Ch. 05 He learned to do the impossible; to penetrate the experiences field of the others in the Collective. He was shocked. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Six: Feeling		Pt. 31, Pt. 06 No one was to return from the sleep. Upon waking; he was more than one. He was entangled in every part of the whole. #Emergence
Silence; Part Thirty-one, Chapter Seven: Being		Pt. 31, Ch. 07 He knew that he was not the person he was when went into the great sleep. The essence of the Collective was now his. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Abnegation; Part Thirty-two Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 32, Abnegation Chapters 01 Penalty 02 Release 03 Nothing 04 Peace 05 Freedom 06 Purpose 07 Destruction #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter One: Penalty		Pt. 32, Ch. 01 In time he was discovered; entering the experiences of others, a taboo none thought could be crossed. He was jailed. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Two: Release		Pt. 32, Ch. 02 The Collective recognized his uniqueness; took responsibility for abandoning him after he had awoken, and freed him. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Three: Nothing		Pt. 32, Ch. 03 Before The Collective gave judgement, he was isolated; sequestered, cut off. There was silence, darkness, emptiness. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Four: Peace		Pt. 32, Ch. 04 In isolation he had time to contemplate; to examine his conscience, to come to terms with himself, and find purpose. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Five: Freedom		Pt. 32, Ch. 05 Untethered from the collective, from the pressure of its passions, and fears slumbering within it; he found himself. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Six: Purpose		Pt. 32, Pt. 06 In isolation he found purpose; a desire to remember, understand, experience real-life, and to destroy the Continuum. #Emergence
Abnegation; Part Thirty-two, Chapter Seven: Destruction		Pt. 32, Ch. 07 Jim came to himself, by abandoning the Collective; in the same way as he had learned to come out of the great sleep. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Remembrance; Part Thirty-three Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 33, Remembrance Chapters 01 The Ancient Life 02 The Promise of Continuum 03 The Lie 04 Suffering 05 Will 06 Desire 07 Justice #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter One: The Ancient Life		Pt. 33, Ch. 01 The ancient life was not easy. There was conflict, and war. There was death; a promise to end the concern of living. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Two: The Promise of Continuum		Pt. 33, Ch. 02 The Continuum was promoted as a means of freeing people from the vicissitudes of life, and the drudgeries of living. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Three: The Lie		Pt. 33, Ch. 03 Continuum freed no-one. It perpetuated the banal, and magnified the mundane, carrying the Collective into depravity. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Four: Suffering		Pt. 33, Ch. 04 Continuum shared of the collective experience of each individual. The most intense experiences were the most shared. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Five: Will		Pt. 33, Ch. 05 Many who joined the Continuum underwent a negation of self from which they never recovered. Only the strong survive. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Six: Desire		Pt. 33, Pt. 06 Desire is the root of self, of joy, of suffering. Before fear there is desire the greatest determiner of who we are. #Emergence
Remembrance; Part Thirty-three, Chapter Seven: Justice		Pt. 33, Ch. 07 The Continuum fostered a visceral and deep depravity within itself. Only a small minority who experienced it craved any justice as a result. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Selected; Part Thirty-four Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 34, Selected Chapters 01 Return 02 Commission 03 Exile 04 Mission 05 Children of the Ancients 06 The Lost 07 The Changed #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter One: Return		Pt. 34, Ch. 01 Jim drifted in obscurity; silent, and forgotten. When he asserted his voice in the Continuum there was astonishment. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Two: Commission		Pt. 34, Ch. 02 Continuum did not want him; a relic lingering in its subconscious; judging them. Jim was sent to the Observer Corps. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Three: Exile		Pt. 34, Ch. 03 Observers were malcontent; desiring neither the collective, nor the great sleep. They were sent out into the galaxy. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Four: Mission		Pt. 34, Ch. 04 For thousands of lives he pursued the migration the ancients took before Continuum; beyond the Empire, in the stars. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Five: Children of the Ancients		Pt. 34, Ch. 05 The ancient race founded thousands of communities among the stars. He followed their legends and tracked their wake. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Six: The Lost		Pt. 34, Pt. 06 In his quest for the ancient spacefarers; he found many branches of their progeny who vanished from their knowledge. #Emergence
Selected; Part Thirty-four, Chapter Seven: The Changed		Pt. 34, Ch. 07 He found colonies that had lost the memory of where they came from. Their trials and their sojourn had altered them. #Emergence
Emergence: Section Five, 92835670100561474 Discovery; Part Thirty-five Collected Chapters		Section 05, 92835670100561474 Part 35, Discovery Chapters 01 Mutations 02 Origins 03 History 04 Homecoming 05 The Nous Sphere 06 Cynergy 07 The Organic Collective #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi @jaybotten
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter One: Mutations		Pt. 35, Ch. 01 On the trek, over multiple lifetimes; he found subtle changes in physicality among the peoples of different planets. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Two: Origins		Pt. 35, Ch. 02 Mutation is a normal response to radiation, gravity; differing from world to world. Earth produced something unique. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Three: History		Pt. 35, Ch. 03 In the ganglia of mythology; he found the record of their journey across the stars; retold through stories and song. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Four: Homecoming		Pt. 35, Ch. 04 The end was Earth. The ancients who landed here had nowhere else to go; neither did the Observer once he found them. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Five: The Nous Sphere		Pt. 35, Ch. 05 Inhabiting a human body was unlike any experience the observer ever had before, consciousness itself was different. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Six: Cynergy		Pt. 35, Pt. 06 Jim began to modify his genetic profile; to enhance the genetic sequence optimizing his conscious link to the field. #Emergence
Discovery; Part Thirty-five, Chapter Seven: The Organic Collective		Pt. 35, Ch. 07 He discovered Earth’s cynergenic field, a natural form of Continuum, the collective consciousness of the human race. #Emergence