Week 24
From the moment she was born Kathy lived in two worlds: one, the world of
her senses, of time and space; two, the larger world of memory.
Just beyond those two distinct modes of being there were forces that were
always active in her consciousness. She was aware of the living presence of all
of the other human beings around her, every single one.
Her memory spoke to her in words and visions, contextualizing everything
she encountered, summarizing each new experience at the speed of light, faster
than light. The operations of her mind could occur in no-time, nearing the
transcendent.
Every smell, every touch, every sound was evocative.
The things she saw, the foods and
drinks she tasted drew her out of herself and into another world.
As an infant she was often debilitated by the experience of new things.
She would get stuck in the on-rush of memories, coming on her like a flood
She often found herself paralyzed and drifting, floating in-between
worlds.
The voices came to her unbidden, they were the voices of her ancestors seeking
to protect her, but they were more than that, they were more than a
reconstruction of personalities from her ancestral memory. Through her unique
consciousness her memories were connected to the real presence of her
ancestors, of humanity, of actual people who were long dead and yet persisting
in the cynergenic field of Earth.
The imprint of every person who ever lived was present in this field, the
nous-sphere. Within this quantum
field every person who had lived and died was present.
There were hidden places within her, deep places she would spend years
discovering. This was not unique to Kathy, but she was uniquely able to access
all the remote regions of her sub-conscious and unconscious mind, the deep dark
well of her being.
There were languages that no person had spoken for thousands of years.
She conversed in them with her ancestors.
There were memories of love, of pain and the promise of transcendence.
She dwelt in them, rejoiced in them, and was lifted up by them.
Her memories were full of
visions; visions of transformation, visions of her ancestors, of her own self always
in a state of becoming.
Kathy took refuge there,
entertained herself there, she relived the great dramas of the collective past,
the stories that still lingered in the popular consciousness of her contemporaries,
she peeled away the myths, the lies and the propaganda.
She discovered the bare stories, the prime narrative behind the world’s
hero’s and god’s.
She spent even more time in the stories of the completely forgotten. In
the memories of the farmer and the slave, the common soldier, the ordinary
mother, among the artists and the craftsmen.
She learned.
She chose from among the people and figures of her memories, friends,
caring people who could guide her through the processes of managing the incredible
deluge that she was awash in.
Her internal mentors were not just figures from her ancestral past, they
also had an active, conscious presence in the cynergenic field.
She chose protectors, good people, teachers, those were had experiences
in life that were similar to her own.
Kathy’s memories came to her unbidden.
Memories populated her consciousness, suggesting themselves for her
consideration, to frame her understanding of the events she was experiencing in
real time.
In remembering she experienced
a dialog with the ancestors within her, deciphering events, answering questions
in an instant.
It was an atavistic process, happening faster than light speed, happening
in no-time.
Kathy was particularly susceptible to sensory input.
When she encountered a new feeling or texture, smelled or tasted
something she had not experienced before, saw or heard something that had been
unknown to her, the forces within her brought to her mind everything she would
ever need to know about it.
She was prone to getting lost in the faces of people she met for the
first time, learning their names, fixing their identities.
The wheels within her would turn and turn over everything her long memory
had to give her regarding all of the times she had encountered a person with
those eyes, with that nose, with that name, or that tone in their voice.
This was always augmented by input from the psychic entities, the ghosts
and spirits that hovered around her, the ancestors, all of the departed dead,
the collective consciousness of humanity, past and present.
She was in constant dialog with them.
Kathy belonged to them and
they to her.
Anything that was new was surreal to Kathy. The more unique the event,
the more fascinated she was by it.
She was virtually incapable of being surprised, but it did happen from
time to time, and when it did she was pleased, even overjoyed.
For her to witness something unprecedented was like watching a blurry movie,
or an old TV off-axis, while the voices inside her attempted to shape her
understanding of the event by providing context, offering comparisons,
suggesting similes, complimenting it with knowledge.
Even things that were tragic and horrible, if they were unexpected and
“one of kind” gave her something that she was missing, and she would observe
those moments with a morbid, self-satisfying curiosity.
Searching out the new was like trying to grasp a handful of water, or a
fistful of sand.
The thing or the moment she would reach for would slip between her
fingers before she could hold it for any length of time.
Searching for a new experience, would cause her mind to construct in
advance, ideas of what she would find. The closer she got to her goal, the
closer her image of what she looking for became an image of expectation, and
assumed the character of what she would discover.
In that game she was always several steps ahead of herself.
She was prescient.
Trying to find what was new in other people was the worst because she
could sense them approaching, she could read their minds, she could become one
with their thoughts, and once she knew them she could commune with the spirits
of their dead. If she wanted, she could learn everything there was to know
about them, and their past.
Kathy had to practice mindfulness at every moment, simply to keep her
grounded and in the present. Learning this was the ultimate discipline, and it
was the key to her sanity. She exercised her powerful mind to create buffers
between herself and the world.
For Kathy, knowing things came
unbidden. Details of particular points of knowledge filled her mind at quantum
speed.
Languages, and codes opened themselves up to her, revealing their
secrets. There was not an article of arcana which she could not decipher.
Her consciousness worked outside the boundaries of time and space. She
did not have to ponder or search her memory for anything. She simply knew
things.
The meanings of symbols, of histories, the patterns in music, beats and
rhythms, these things populated her consciousness in no-time.
She could tell the stories of people, of human migration, stories that
had never been written down. She knew where all the skeletons were buried.
Everything her senses encountered was filtered through a screen of the
complete human experience.
What she did not have access to, from her own genetic line, she could
find through the cynergenic field, communing with the dead in the nous-sphere.
Both the past and present were open, like a book, she could observe
anything.
She could even peer into the minds of her contemporaries, see through
their eyes, merging with them, becoming one with them in the confluence of
their perceptions and feelings.
Kathy was the most powerful psychic the world had ever known. She was
dangerous, and her value was without measure.
The opportunity to work with her was considered the greatest privilege in
the scientific community, she was a closely guarded secret, those who had the
opportunity to put a question to her were held in the highest esteem by their colleagues. Even though
they would never have any direct contact with her, just the opportunity to
address the Sibyl, which was her code
name in the intelligence community was an indication that what you were working
on was of the highest value.
It was prehension, Kathy’s intuitive comprehension came from a place
within the mysteries of the atom, within the waves that make up the fabric of
the subatomic field, from a place in which time and space are concepts without
meaning, where there were trillions of points of light drawn into the
concrescence of insight.
Her mind represented the fulcrum of all humanity, she was the full realization of its potential, and not
just of humanity, of the Children of Earth, she was the fully actualized representation of the
Ancient People.
Her coming was a thing that had been carefully prepared, by Jim, the
Observer, for thousands of generations.
Her genetic code was the product of a careful breeding program, but there
was more to his plans than merely producing a body with the latent atavistic
capabilities he was searching for, which he needed for his campaign against the
Continuum.
Jim also prepared her over thousands of lifetimes, to see him, to respond
to him, to pick up on the subtle cues that would come from him through the
genetic memory she would have access to.
He was preparing her in advance to be able to filter the collective
consciousness of humanity, to draw what she needed from it at will.
Kathy would be to Earth’s organic collective what the Continuum was to
the Collective on the HomeWorld.
Kathy played music and she loved it.
For Kathy, there was nothing more freeing than being lost in cloud of
rhythm and melody, expressing her
deepest feelings. The rest of the world could slip away, she could be alone.
There was not an instrument, or a rhythm, a tonal scale or a mechanism of
timing which she did not master instantly. The mastering of them, unlike the
mastery of ideas, did not require dialog with the ancestors within her, they
were there of course, but in music their presence was non-verbal.
She sang, with perfect pitch.
She could identify any note, any chord. She could replicate them in her
voice, or on any instrument.
She spoke in her own voice when she sang, all the while sensing the
multitude within her, guiding her fingers, her brushes, bows, sticks, picks and
tongue.
Kathy was the living repository of all human knowledge.
It was an incredible burden.
She shunned it, but in music she found this to be soothing, liberating.
The visitation of her memories, the voices of her ancestors, these were
always present to her, putting pressure on Kathy to act and perform in specific
ways.
They were present to her in the music she listened to and played as well,
but in music she felt more as if she was coming home to them, rather than the
voices inside of her reaching out to her.
Music was a homecoming to a place where there were no expectations.
Emergence 4.0
Section Four, Kathy
Part Twenty-two, Childhood
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week
#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek
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