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Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Prayer


Listen to my prayer, hear it echoing in the dark chamber of my heart

Take me from this island, free my shadow beneath a shower of light

Listen to the music, the harmony of the spheres, the rolling wave beneath the tranquil sea

Remember me, the forgotten, the poetry of Anonymous

The greatest philosopher who never was, the poet of graffiti artists

Pray for the travelers, trudging through this life, marching forward with their doubts

Listen to the forsaken, the wailing of the self-defeated, stretched and thin

Enlightenment reaches everyone, in the end; like the sun-going super nova, small comfort

Pray for the release of the captive, the deliverance of the addict, I pray for you

Say a prayer for me, for mercy on the sinner, broken from the first breath I drew

Pray, as I pray for you

Monday, June 24, 2019

Emergence 4.0 - Part Four, Kathy; Chapter Twenty-three, Prodigy


Week 25

Kathy loved jokes. Humor was a relief to her and she was a funny child.

Comedy is the art of the unexpected and of the surprise, Kathy loved it when she could suspend disbelief for a moment, allowing herself to be taken at unawares.

It was a departure from her normal mode of being.

Her laughter was the first unusual thing that her parents noticed about her, a trait which distinguished her from other children, it alerted them to the fact that she was different, because her laughter was different, it was mature, knowing, it seemed to come from a place beyond the tiny physical body of an infant.

Even as a baby she picked up on the punch lines of jokes. She delighted in them in her infancy. The fed her spirit, they were like water to a thirsty woman. She understood the spoken words, the inferences that were made and shared between adults. She understood and could follow their exchanges months before she had learned to speak.

It was unnerving to anybody who witnessed it, therefore her sense of humor became one of the first expressive traits that Kathy learned to conceal, it was an act of social alienation and self-abnegation.

Laughter is like crying, it is a free and open mode of communication, it is non-verbal and honest.

Kathy had to deny herself that, she had to keep it in check.

The laughing person is vulnerable, and Kathy had to learn to hide that vulnerability, withdrawing inside herself, to share her mirth with her ancestors only, and the other ghosts lingering in the outer-world.

Kathy was as quiet as she was observant. She learned to watch and ask questions of the voices within her.

It was better this way, for her it was better.

She also took joy in the acquisition of knowledge, the analytical skills she was developing were more astute, but she also found that asking questions, the types of questions she asked set her parents and teachers on edge.

As a baby, she did not flit about randomly like infants and toddlers do. She was not easily distracted or delighted by the things that most babies are delighted by.

She was a strange child.

Her introspection was so extreme that in those first months of life her parents thought she might be developmentally disabled. They had no way of knowing that in those moments she was communing with the voices of her ancestors. 

She was focused, balanced, and cautious. The evidence of her determinative spirit showed clearly through everything she did.

She repeated sounds and gestures in patterns that quickly became noticeable to her parents. The subtleties of her personality, the things they had thought were the ticks of autism, were in fact her measured and purposeful quest to learn.

Kathy was motivated by a deep desire to communicate, to be understood.

While she had the cognitive ability to speak, nearly from the day she was born, she did not have the motor skills to form words, those took time to develop. 

She trained herself, quickening the pace by which she would learn to walk, and talk, and she would not be stopped.

Her parents had no desire to get in her way.

In the days when they were still figuring out what their child was doing, if they were to interrupt her or try to redirect her, they would see the flash of anger in her eyes.

This was not the helpless rage of an infant wailing.

It was the anger of a fully formed person who would not be deterred from her path.

She was a frightening child.

Her parents were concerned for her wellbeing and her safety, both.

Kathy was crawling within weeks of being born, and walking within a few short months. In her private moments she was flexing her muscles, gaining strength, and tuning her body to obey her thoughts.

The voices within her guided her. Through repetition and diligence, she gained control of her limbs, she developed dexterity, and coordination.

By her first birthday she was dancing. 

Kathy practiced and practiced in the quiet moments of her day.

At night, in the dark, while her parents slept.

She did not speak a word until she was speaking in complete sentences. Her vocal muscles were the most difficult to master.

She practiced her breathing, she spoke to herself when she thought no one was watching.

She listened to the conversations happening all around her, the dialog without and within.

She knew that her parents were concerned about her.

Every person they ever brought to meet her told them how strange she was. Kathy tried to make things easier on them, but she was not always able to hide the things that she was doing, and she could not control her feelings.

The glands that produced the hormones and chemicals which formed the wetwork of the human emotional spectrum, they required a much greater level of discipline and measures of time to control.   

The direction for her exercises came from deep within herself. From her ancestors, and from her intimate link to the cynergenic field.

In the nous-sphere Kathy communed with those who were not directly linked to her heredity. She was connected to the assembled masters of every tradition, they instructed her in physical disciplines, martial disciplines, cognitive disciplines, the full scope of human knowledge was accessible to her. They guided her and focused her, kept her calm, allowing her to see her own life and experiences in the context of the collective experiences swelling within her.

She discovered a sense of belonging in the world through the interior of her mind.

She formed plans spontaneously, in order to realize her goals, her powerful mind operating beyond the limits of time and space, and then she had to slow everything down, to allow her body time to make the adjustments she was preparing it for.

It was excruciating, she wanted nothing more than to allow her mind to drift away, to leave the cares of the flesh behind, but when she felt that way, the chorus would rise within her, reminding her that she had a purpose to fulfill.

She had to prepare, be quiet, discreet, not draw attention to herself she developed her physical strength, and the strength of her mind.

She took pride in her accomplishments, they were a source of great esteem.

Kathy could shut the outside world off and retreat into the recesses of her interior life, But she could not escape from the voices within, they were always with her. She might ignore them for a time, but she could not depart from them, and even if she died, she knew that she would remain with them, as with all people, a shadow of herself imprinted on the cynergenic field.

Kathy followed the path of discipline, to protect herself from the world and from what was inside her, both.

Whatever her parents tried to teach her, Kathy took to with ease, despite the moment by moment challenges she endured in dealing with her atavistic connection to the past.

Nevertheless she was still a child, she had ordinary instincts, she wanted to belong to her parents, and for them to belong to her.

She wanted to please them, make them smile, watch them laugh. She did not like it when the things she said or did, or did not do, disturbed them.

Kathy mastered complex tasks without effort.

She had to learn, to pretend to learn from her parents and the adults around her.

This was one of the things that put her parents at ease. It was often the case that they would propose to show her how to do something, like tie her shoes, and she would just do it without thinking because the voices within her supplied her with the method.

This unnerved her parents, she had to learn to slow down and hide these things, even pretend to make mistakes so that they could correct her.

This was an exercise in conformity.

She struggled with the skill of blending in, with hiding her differences.

Her parents came to accept the fact that Kathy was pretending. They could tell because she was not good at it, and also because she would almost always shift to a pattern of action that was better, more efficient, quicker, more streamlined than what they had taught her.

For Kathy to get along she learned to be silent, to listen, to wait, to let the others fail. She had to be content that she knew the answers and had to resist the temptation to seek the reward of praise.

She practiced quietude.

She would not assert herself. She did everything she could to divert attention, seeking only the private recognition of her teachers.

She could not insert herself into the activities of her peers (she had none), she could not correct them, or provide the right answer to problems that were proposed in public settings to her classmates.

She learned to experience success as a personal matter, only harkening to the applause that came from within.

She turned in flawless work.

She reacted negatively to her teachers when they tried to highlight her talents, her knowledge and skills.

This was difficult for her.

Like any child she loved praise, and she had to force herself to eschew it.

More than praise from her teachers, she wanted friends

The other children in class with her, did not like her, they did not like the way she looked at them, or the way she looked through them.

They knew intuitively that she was beyond them

She was alien.

Kathy was unique.

She felt other.

She was different from every human being on the planet, different from all who had ever been.

She embodied the full scope of human potential and its actual realization in time.

She was unique in all the universe, she was born that way.
She was still young when she realized the differences that distinguished her from everyone else she had ever met. She had known empirically that this was the case. Her ancestors within her had said as much, and that estimation was confirmed by the voices of the entities she encountered in the nous-sphere, in Earth’s cynergenic field. Nevertheless, Kathy succumbed to a basic human tendency, which was to assume that the people she encountered were like her, that they shared a common point of view or perspective on the things and events they were witnessing.  

Understanding her differences did not help her manage her feelings, or those of anyone else. She had difficulties.

She knew that it was not her responsibility to control what other people felt. Whether they choose to be in a relationship with her, like her teachers, or whether, like her parents, the role had been thrust on them. 

People were afraid of her.

They either wanted to run away from her, or to exploit her.

Some people simply wanted to examine her, run experiments on her as if she was a laboratory animal.

Her parents were afraid of her, and afraid for her.

They were simultaneously proud of her, and ashamed that they had brought her into the world.

The people who cared for her knew that she suffered, but they could do little about it, some tried to comfort her, most did so only as a convenience to themselves.


Emergence 4.0


Section Four, Kathy
Part Twenty-three, Prodigy

A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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Sunday, June 23, 2019

A Homily - The Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)


First Reading – Zechariah 12:10-11,13:1 ©
Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 62(63):2-6,8-9 ©
Second Reading – Galatians 3:26-29 ©
Gospel Acclamation – John 8:12
Alternative Acclamation – John 10:27
The Gospel According to Luke 9:18-24 ©

 (NJB)


Be mindful!

Zechariah the false prophet is a nationalist, he is a jingoistic liar.

God, the creator of the universe, God is not a God of war and battle. God does not intervene in human affairs, or conflicts. God does not appoint kings, neither does God show favor to some of God’s children over and against others.

These are the machinations of men, they are fantasies of folly, we must abandon them.

God is loving, God is just, and God is good.

Listen!

It is right to thank God, the creator of the universe for all the good things that come our way.

It is right and good to give thanks, but do not blame God for the hardships we suffer in this life.

The good and the bad come to us irrespective of who we are, what we do or have done or who we might become.

There is no plan it. God is no respecter of persons, and does not love anyone of God’s children more than God loves any other.

Praise God and give thanks for the good things that come our way, but do not dwell on the bad, allow those to pass.

There is peace to be had in practice of patience, in the comfort of contemplation, meditation and prayer.

Make your life a constant prayer, pray for the grace which comes from God and brings peace to the spirit.

Let the peace of God within you bubble up like a fountain, let it overflow so that other’s may quench their thirst and be nourished by it

Remember.

We are the children of God simply because we are. God, the creator of the universe is parent to everyone.

Our faith in God, our faith in the way that Jesus preached, the trust we place in the divine, that trust frees us to transcend our place in the world, it erases the distinctions between rich and poor, between male and female, between the priest and the lay person

We are all in the way, and the way does not exclude anyone. We are all moving inexorably toward God, the divine source of all being.

Trust in that, it is God’s plan for creation.

Keep this in your heart.

The sheep do not choose the shepherd, but rather the shepherd chooses the sheep.

God is the shepherd in whom all that is comes to be, it is to God that everything belongs.

There is just the one shepherd; just the one sheepfold, and whether it make sense to us or not, it is to that shepherd that we all belong.

Listen for the voice of the shepherd, and do not trouble yourself with how the shepherd speaks to you, in what language, in what text, through your sister or your brother, from the mouth of your neighbor or the stranger you encounter.

God, the shepherd is speaking to them to, and they are listening as they are able (or willing), God will speak through them to you. Listen as you are able, be willing..

Everyone that is, everyone who has ever been or ever will be, everyone without exception follows the way of God, there is no other way. Do not trouble yourself if you do not understand the journey that another person is on, God is guiding them, as God is guiding you.

If you resist, God will be patient, God will wait for you, as God waits for everyone, be thankful for this and pray that you can emulate the patience of God.

God the shepherd, God is love, and love is patient as love is kind.

Be kind to one another, be kind to yourself.

Have faith. God will not lose a single one of us. Neither will any one of us lose God, no matter what; God is with us.

Listen!

Jesus lived among us and taught by word and deed. He never wrote a thing.

He gave us the spoken word, the oral command “love one another, as I have loved you.” He told us in the simplest of terms that this is the whole of the law, and the only way to serve God.

He went to his death as an exemplification of this rule.

It is the only rule that really matters.

He spoke in parables, but there was no mystery in them. He spoke plainly, and he spoke true.

This was the source of the power in his teaching. That is why he shook the world.

In the generations that followed him, the message became contorted, and distorted it came to take on the trappings of the false prophet Zechariah whose words we encountered at the beginning of today’s readings.

The story of his life became distorted by myths, tales of power.

It was not enough to tell the truth as Jesus himself told it, they had to make him into a King, the Christ, Kyrios, the anointed one, a prophet like his predecessor John, or the hero Elijah, a mysterious figure pre-figured in arcane literature, in the Books of Enoch; they cast him as the Son of Man, and exalted figure, and more…he became known as the Son of God, and even as God’s own self, dwelling amongst us in the flesh.

That is the trajectory of the propaganda that dogged the story of Jesus of Nazareth, replacing the real with the fantastic and surreal.

Jesus was a man, he taught us about the good and the just, he instructed us in the demands of love.

We should honor the truths that he spoke to so eloquently, we should honor him by seeing him for who he truly was; a human being like the rest of us, a role-model we should aspire to.


First Reading – Zechariah 12:10-11,13:1 ©

They Will Look on the One Whom they Have Pierces

It is the Lord who speaks: ‘Over the House of David and the citizens of Jerusalem I will pour out a spirit of kindness and prayer. They will look on the one whom they have pierced; they will mourn for him as for an only son, and weep for him as people weep for a first-born child. When that day comes, there will be great mourning in Judah, like the mourning of Hadad-rimmon in the plain of Megiddo. When that day comes, a fountain will be opened for the House of David and the citizens of Jerusalem, for sin and impurity.’


Responsorial Psalm - Psalm 62(63):2-6,8-9 ©

For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord my God.

O God, you are my God, for you I long;
  for you my soul is thirsting.
My body pines for you
  like a dry, weary land without water.

For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord my God.

So I gaze on you in the sanctuary
  to see your strength and your glory.
For your love is better than life,
  my lips will speak your praise.

For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord my God.

So I will bless you all my life,
  in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul shall be filled as with a banquet,
  my mouth shall praise you with joy.

For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord my God.

For you have been my help;
  in the shadow of your wings I rejoice.
My soul clings to you;
  your right hand holds me fast.

For you my soul is thirsting, O Lord my God.


Second Reading – Galatians 3:26-29 ©

All Baptised in Christ, You Have All Clothed Yourselves in Christ

You are, all of you, sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. All baptised in Christ, you have all clothed yourselves in Christ, and there are no more distinctions between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, but all of you are one in Christ Jesus. Merely by belonging to Christ you are the posterity of Abraham, the heirs he was promised.


Gospel Acclamation – John 8:12

Alleluia, alleluia!

I am the light of the world, says the Lord;
anyone who follows me will have the light of life.

Alleluia!


Alternative Acclamation – John 10:27

Alleluia, alleluia!

The sheep that belong to me listen to my voice,
says the Lord,
I know them and they follow me.

Alleluia!


The Gospel According to Luke 9:18-24 ©

'You Are the Christ of God'

One day when Jesus was praying alone in the presence of his disciples he put this question to them, ‘Who do the crowds say I am?’ And they answered, ‘John the Baptist; others Elijah; and others say one of the ancient prophets come back to life.’ ‘But you,’ he said ‘who do you say I am?’ It was Peter who spoke up. ‘The Christ of God’ he said. But he gave them strict orders not to tell anyone anything about this.

‘The Son of Man’ he said ‘is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death, and to be raised up on the third day.’

Then to all he said, ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it.’


 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Saturday, June 22, 2019

Proceed with Caution - Editorial, The Week in Review


Analysis, Commentary, Opinion
06.12.2019

Proceed with Caution

I understand how it must be frustrating for all the Democrats in the presidential primary not getting the attention they feel they deserve, they cannot garner attention for themselves to get their message out.

This is not the fault of the front runner, Joe Biden, or the other people in the first tier, Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, Pete Buttigieg and Kamala Harris.

To the Corey Booker’s and the Bill De Blasio’s out there; there is a reason that you are not in the first tier. You entered the race without enough of a record to distinguish yourself, either that or with too much history already tarnishing your reputation.

You are no Mayor Pete, who is a uniquely gifted speaker; cool and calm, and able to argue dispassionately for what they believe is right and good.

You were not the Attorney General of the largest state in the nation.

You are not the second runner up for the Democratic nomination in the last round, and you are not the most vocal advocate for consumer rights the country has seen in the past twenty years.

Most significantly you are not the last Vice President of the united the United States.

This makes your position as a candidate in this race very week, and if you did not know this getting in then you don’t have the judgement it takes to be president.

If you can’t distinguish yourself by speaking to your strengths and vision, please just drop out.

If all you can do is take offence and vocalize your umbrage at the front runner by misconstruing the intended meaning of some comments he made about a better time in American politics when it was still possible to work with people that you have serious disagreements with, then please just drop out.

If you want to protect the country and help move us forward campaign on your strengths, not by trying to tear other people down. If you can’t do that you will still lose, and you will only have succeeded in poisoning the well.

If you care about the country you will keep yourself attuned to the heartbeat of the nation, serve the country best by being where you can best serve.
The wheel will turn again, and you may find yourself on top, if you are able to stifle your combative tendencies and help move the party along with the progressive agenda forward.



Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Monarchy


Visions of honor
National identity
Feudal patronage

Is it heaven’s will
Fealty, nobility
I think it is not

The war engines roar
Burning loyalty to fuel
Sick machinations

Asking the question
Are we impoverished without
A king or a queen

Our bones bought and sold
Our blood and hope, like strong drink
It was not enough

To kill and die for
Assuaging our conscience, while
Redeeming our spirit



Monday, June 17, 2019

Emergence 4.0 - Part Four, Kathy; Chapter Twenty-two, Childhood


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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