A New Reality Begins.

A Living God emerges.

The four marched solemnly out onto the balcony, hands clasped as in prayer. Four figures wearing dazzling full length scarlet and white robes. Leading the four just a few steps ahead of the others was a lone figure who wore the only multi-colored robe among them: pure white edged in gold, with Rose, Red, Green, Purple and Violet threads stitched throughout. The hood was pulled forward to obscure the face inside. On the breast was embroidered a nearly imperceptible insignia of the symbol PI, looking similar to the ancient Stonehenge monument—a slab supported by two non-parallel support beams—representing the symbol of infinity but also the first two initials of Paul’s full name: Paul Isaac Evans.  

Akira orchestrated the event perfectly, even down to the precise time of day. The rising sun at their backs created the halo effect she desired, while obscuring the eyesight of the masses.  A huge cheer went up from the crowd. Television camera’s edged in, while thousands of flashes momentarily blinded the four as hundreds of Iphones snapped photos to record the moment.

Paul used the din to converse with Akira:

“Is this necessary?”

“You’re now their Living God. You have to look like the part.”

“But robes?”

Akira turned her head slightly. Behind her, she could sense Billy-Bob and Lasseter listening intently.

Lasseter grinned at her approvingly, while Billy-Bob nervously caressed a barely perceptible bulge on the right side of his robe. The Glock. He never went anywhere without it.

“We are addressing their collective consciousness and cellular memories,” she whispered, wanting to end the conversation quickly.

“Everything we’ve chosen for this moment dates back centuries…thousands of years before even Christ…an event designed so this pitchfork crowd will recognize you on such deep, subliminal level, they’ll fall in love with you instantly, without knowing why.”

“And be even more receptive…”


The crowd was finally growing silent, waiting for Paul to speak.

Paul stood a few feet in front of the rest, reached up, and slowly pulled his hood back. He smiled alluringly across the crowd of his infected faithful. There was a look of disquiet about his face that suggested he felt their deepest concerns and fears. That their pain and uncertainty was his. As the rising, bright sunlight silhouetted the back of his head, the cheering increased.

Lasseter, Akira and Billy-Bob turned toward Paul, applauding him, then raised their arms towards the crowd in a call for silence.

Paul raised his own arms to support the call for quiet. The crowd went silent as the infected faithful held their breath. The flashes from the Iphones stopped, and even the babble from the media whores were stilled.

“I want to thank all of you for making this Pilgrimage,” Paul began. “I know it was a long and difficult journey for some of you, but we are about the change the world…”

Paul turned to face the other three, and their arms continuing to signal for silence.

“You have felt my mind, and I have touched yours,” he continued. “The New Reality is just beginning. It has touched your hearts as it has touched my own. You could see it coming, as I could see it coming. The world is past the point of no return unless we join together to raise our consciousness. Economic collapse. Climate Change. Thousands of years of mass insanity is finally coming to an end.”

Lasseter lowered his head and whispered to Billy-Bob. “The climate change thing is irreversible and planet earth is fast tracking to become a K-Type star.”

“An actual star?” Billy-Bob’s hand stopped caressing his gun.

“Sorry to be the one to tell you. That’s one reason why I have to get Akira off this planet.”

“Does Paul know?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The very rich have been living a life of ease and decadence, and while you slave away in their factories and stores for scraps, the pedophile elite who rule you rape your beautiful young daughters turning them into harlots and whores…”

An angry roar gushed from the crowd, fist shaking violently in the air.

“Look,” Akira giggled, “An actual pitchfork. Someone’s shaking an actual pitchfork. This is great!”

“This we must change!” Paul roared, holding his fist high.

The angry roar turned into a naked, violent scream of adulation.

“Together, we will ascend. We will no longer identify with race, gender, age or nationality…those things which divide us…together, we are one…the new reality begins today…a new reality where everyone lives in peace, love, abundance, joy, truth, compassion and higher dimensional consciousness.”

A burst of euphoria surged through the air.

“We will not only stand equally in the whole cosmos, we will spread throughout the cosmos, we will not destroy ourselves and this planet…together we will conquer the stars and spread throughout the galaxy!”

The euphoria was palpable and the decibels grew, causing Paul’s robe to vibrate.

Billy-Bob abruptly stepped forward and grabbed Paul’s shoulders in what looked like a warm, congratulatory embrace.

“It’s time to go,” he whispered. “They’re coming.”

Off in the distance, flying into the sun, small dark spots approaching in a formation that only a trained eye could identify.

Black Hawk helicopters, racing towards them at 183 mph.

Akira didn’t waste a moment. She gently spun Paul towards the exit, waving to the crowd.

More later.

It’s good to be assimilated.

He could feel them watching.

Josef stood bare feet in his room for ten seconds and looked around. It was the same, but different. He couldn’t tell how different; it was just different. Perhaps it simply felt different.  Or maybe he was different.

The room smelled like stale cigars, stale whiskey and bad breath.

Josef had never prided himself on his cleanliness.

He prided himself on his ability to get the job done. At any cost. The ends justified the means. Always.

He’d been a terrifying man, given to fits of anger and blind outbursts or rage. Which accounted for his rapid rise in the ranks of the DHS. He found a place where he fit in. His murderous rages were not only rewarded, they were both justified and applauded.

As long as he could control himself around his superiors, he could get away with anything.

Give him a gun, a badge, and he could do what he wanted. Such a feeling of power!

But he didn’t feel so powerful at this moment. Not standing in this room now.

His room looked filthy and ridiculous.

He couldn’t believe he’d been such an animal.

He couldn’t believe one encounter with a stranger named Paul made him see things so differently. Made him feel so different. So much more alive.  So much a part of all humanity.

He’d been ordered to kill or capture. Instead, he had joined with what was once the enemy. He was now part of the Hive. And he finally felt human.

This was his first mission failure. But it felt more like his biggest success.

He looked around the room and made mental notes of what he would clean up first. The kitchen table. The dishes. The empty beer bottles.

Taking off his shirt, unholstering his weapon and sitting on the edge of the chair to remove his shoes and socks, he prepared to take a shower.

Josef was still covered with dried blood and debris from the explosions.

He had walked away from fallen comrades, and instead of killing the group responsible, he had joined with them.

That would be unforgiveable in the DHS. But, no matter.

This thought left a brief twinge of regret for the man he once was­­—but this was quickly replaced with joy for what he had become.

He was connected to the Hive. He could feel more minds connecting as he sat there getting ready to clean himself off.

The shower would be his official baptism.

He smiled. He felt accepted. Not just by the small group within the DHS, but by everyone. He would no longer have to compete with another human being for anything. Not for jobs. Not for money. Not for love.

He was now part of a growing collective. All would be shared if you were in the Hive.

Standing in the shower, turning the cold water on as high as possible, he felt his skin become taught and felt his old, underlying feelings of anxiety wash from his soul as easily as the dried blood sloughed from his skin.

The cold water was revitalizing. It shocked him awake.

His eyes were open. He saw his old life for what it was: a life of addiction, endless cravings, long stints of boredom, mixed with daily confusion, distress and social isolation.

He did what he was told by the government and got rewarded for it. Day in, day out.

This created a Pavlovian system of rewards and punishment that kept him completely brainwashed throughout his entire career­­—throughout his adult life.

He was Russian. He should have recognized it earlier.

But was it not the same for any person plugged into the delusions of the corporation? You show up for 8, 12, 14 hours a day and are constantly bombarded by corporate messages, constantly harangued by the distant drumbeats emanating from somewhere deep within the jungle of the corporate boardroom.

These messages eventually drill themselves into your consciousness and soon, you believe them. You believe every word. Making you nothing more than a corporate drone. Willing to do their bidding for but a scrap of a reward.

Just like one of Pavolv’s dogs.

The phone rang, interrupting Josef’s reverie.

Stepping from the cold shower, not bothering to towel dry, Josef reached for his cell phone, next to the empty beer bottle.

It was the Secretary of Defense.

“What do you mean they fucking got away?” the voice bellowed from somewhere over the ether.

Josef smiled. He had learned early in his career to stick to the facts. He wasn’t paid to provide analysis, editorialize, or give opinions unless specifically asked. “They must have help from a foreign enemy. What they did to us and how they escaped is simply not possible with our existing technology. They escaped as if by magic.”

“Magic?” The voice howled. Josef could imagine the SECDEF rubbing his stubby fingers through his greasy hair. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, sir.”

“I want a full report within the hour, Josef. Within the hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And one more thing, Josef,” The Secretary drawled.

“What’s that sir?”

“You’re being reassigned to a desk job pending a full review.” Josef could hear the SECDEF draw in sharp breaths of air between syllables.

Josef cocked a burnt eyebrow.

“Copy that.”

More later.