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Friday, September 30, 2016

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

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

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.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

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.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

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.


26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Saturday, September 24, 2016

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.

Friday, September 23, 2016

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

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

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. 


Sunday, September 18, 2016

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.


25th 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 1st 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.

Friday, September 16, 2016

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