The Searching Soul

By Ronald Zastre

Gravity is the last force of nature yet to be discovered. We know it’s there, we know what it does. We know it’s necessary to the very existence of the Universe. We, however, have no idea what the actual substance is, or how it really works. It’s some kind of encompassing field or fabric, and that is the extent of our knowledge.
This unknown field is responsible for absolutely everything we experience. It’s the reason that everything works; the way it does. Without this phenomenon, we and every other thing in this vast Universe could have never come together. There would be nothing but floating, scattered dust, maybe even less. Something that is so critical to our very existence may decide what happens to us after we die. The Searching Soul, explores this uncharted area.
A human has never died in an altered gravitational field; specifically, an orbit, a place we routinely launch humans into. We are born, live and die within a consistent gravitational field, but there are a lot of inconsistencies in this uniform field; paranormal, psychic, unexplained mysterious, etc. We all know people that seem to have a strange window into the future, the past, or the present. It seems they have the ability to mentally travel in, or on, or through, an unfamiliar medium. The unknown gravitational fabric that governs all physics, known and yet to be discovered, maybe, is the highway that they unwittingly use.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald Zastre
• Release date: Dec 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9780984035120

Ronald Zastre

I was born in Winnipeg, Canada on 11/29/47. My father was a golf course superintendent there, and when I was seven, we moved to Fargo N.D. where my father took over the duties at the Fargo Country Club. I played a lot of golf and had a great time living at the course. I can still hit the crap out of the ball, but can’t score. So what else is new? I graduated from high school in Fargo and then joined the Marines. I was a Scout-sniper in Vietnam and saw considerable action and can say, “Combat is a great teacher, provided it doesn’t leave one scarred and unable to go on.” I went into the golf business, first as a superintendent/designer, then as a builder. I also taught the ever elusive golf swing and do understand it. I began writing in the business format, doing instruction manuals and design work for Manta Cars, and then shifted to entertainment: news paper, magazines, then novels, and finally screen plays. I wrote a golf book, ‘the Balance Swing’, and wrote, produced, directed, edited and starred in a matching video. I’ve also written four additional novels: Timtown, The Walnuts, The Searching Soul, and Billy Palmer. All four novels have screen plays. I am presently working on a 1960’s rock and roll musical with fast cars and original songs as the theme. While working the designing and constructing businesses, I stood my ground many years ago and proclaimed my competition was irresponsible and money grubbing. I was vindicated later when an associate, who defined my complaints as counter productive, came to me and said, “Ronski, you were right, weren’t you?” I saved close to ten-thousand beautiful, jungle trees on a golf course project, on Guam. I’ve always been green because when I lived outside of Fargo, I noticed the trees starting to bud a day early in town one spring. I asked my father and he said, “Obviously it is warmer in town,” This was 1957, when I was eight, and already I understood global warming. I’ve have had all the toys, but only for the experience of playing with them, never for just having them. I haven’t owned a car in seven years and my bike is my best friend. I currently live in Palm Desert, CA. because I’d rather be hot than cold.

Book preview

Foreword

Gravity is the last force of nature to be understood. We know it’s there, we know what it does, and we know it’s necessary to the very existence of the Universe. However, we have no idea what the actual mechanics are or how it really works. It’s some kind of encompassing field or fabric and that is the extent of our knowledge.

This unknown force is responsible for absolutely everything we experience. It’s the reason that everything works the way it does. Without this phenomenon, we and every other thing in this vast Universe could have never come together. There would be nothing but floating, scattered dust, maybe even less. Something that is so critical to our very existence may decide what happens to us after we die. The Searching Soul, explores this uncharted area.

A human has never died in an altered gravitational field; specifically, an orbit, a place into which we routinely launch humans. We are born, live, and die within a consistent gravitational field, but there are a lot of inconsistencies in this uniform field: paranormal, psychic, unexplained mysterious, and other factors. We all know people who seem to have a strange window into the future, the past, or the present. It seems they have the ability to mentally travel in, or on, or through an unfamiliar medium. The unknown gravitational fabric that governs all physics, known and yet to be discovered, is maybe the highway that they unwittingly use.

The Searching Soul is about the first human to die in a weakened gravitation field. All living things possess an electromagnetic field, the nervous system, as I define as the soul. If things are normal, the results are predictable, the soul is reabsorbed by the Earth’s field. If one unaltered field, say a human’s, is suddenly released in a weakened field, say the Earth’s orbit, what might happen?

Chapter 1

IN EARTH ORBIT - There is nothing as breathtaking as the planet Earth from space. Although it is impossible to see the life that abounds on the surface, the radiant colors speak to the truth. The deep shifting blues of the vast oceans, the warm brilliant greens splattered among the browns of the land masses, and the vast swirling white clouds; all attest to something besides a giant, lifeless ball spinning in the cosmos.

The first real proof of life in this vista is a small dot approaching many miles above the surface, well above the life-sustaining engine far below. As it comes closer, growing in size, it defines itself as a machine, something that is out of place and confirms there is intelligence close by.

It’s a beautiful machine, bright white on the side facing down to the planet. This side also distinguishes it as a flying machine with large dramatic sweeping control surfaces. The other side pointing out into space is a featureless flat dull black surface. The black contrasts dramatically as it passes over the white clouds down on the surface. Inside the flying machine humans from the surface are reaching out beyond their home; to begin the exploration of the unknown that stretches away into the black infinity that surrounds them.

The pilot of the machine is listening to one of his comrades, Lieutenant Colonel Ron Donald, cocooned in a bulky white suit that allows him to survive in the hostile environment. Colonel Donald is moving away from the flying machine, heading toward another machine, this one is much smaller, bristling with shiny flat panels.

***

The brilliant blue-green planet revolves two hundred miles below, curving away in all directions, the man in the space suit said with sincere reverence.

The fact that it is a giant ball, floating in the darkness of space is evident from this view. There was a moment of silence, then a quick, Ahum, an expression of insight. The planet shines and is warmed by the Sun that is moving closer to the far horizon, over there. The astronaut expounding the idea pointed toward the horizon with his space suit-clad arm. It looks warm and safe down there. He was floating, facing the planet down below. Tiny wisps of gas shot from his suit and he rotated quickly to face outward, then more tiny wisps stopped his roll. One look the other way, into the deep, hostile blackness confirms that it is indeed Space-Ship-Earth, all alone, any companions far, far away. The astronaut spoke as he moved away from the Space Shuttle Reunion.

Well, Colonel Donald, it seems that all the work to get here has been worth it. You sound moved by the experience, a voice crackled inside the helmet of the astronaut as he moved away from the shuttle.

Oh yeah! came the exited reply from Donald. More small wisps of gas jet from his suit maneuvering him in the vacuum of space. I don’t know how I’m going to concentrate on any work. Donald paused, taking it all in. This is so beautiful! he exclaimed, continuing toward the satellite that was matching Reunion’s rapid pace around the Earth.

Got anything else profound to say? the voice crackled again.

Hell, I’m no philosopher, Donald responded.

No? the voice proclaimed. That last blurb wasn’t bad, so let’s hear something else. Damn, man, not too many people have gotten a look at their world like you’re doing.

It looks so much smaller from here, Donald said after thinking a bit.

Small? was the response. How do you figure? That’s a big ass deal down there?

Commander Realms, I used to drive from Omaha to Denver, like twice a week and it was the worst damn trip. Donald’s voice even hinted at the distaste. If I’m guessing right, we’re over that god awful stretch of highway right now.

Guessed right, Realms, Reunion’s Commander replied.

This time the trip will be over in a couple minutes, that’s why I’m thinking small. Donald chuckled, reaching the satellite and gaining a foothold.

Good point.

I’d better get to work, huh? Donald commented.

Should take you about fifty minutes and then you’ll have ten or so to star gaze.

Donald didn’t say anything, but there was a very loud pop on the radio, corresponding with an equally loud, Oof, then a short strangling sound, then silence.

No one inside the space shuttle saw the small burst of Donald’s space suit in the left lower back area.

Lost all his telemetry, the astronaut on Realms’s left, Major Leslie Warren, the copilot announced.

Donald come in, Realms called from inside the space shuttle. What the hell happened? Realms shouted, punching at icons on the screen in front of him.

Looks like suit failure, Warren shouted back.

How the hell can a suit just go like that? Realms shouted again. Donald, come in. There was no return, not even static. The radio is out, that’s what the problem is. Realms sat back confident that his summation was correct.

No, the radio’s good, Warren returned.

It’s out, I tell you! Realms argued, It’s dead!

It’s good, Warren claimed.

Then we would hear something, Realms cried.

Donald’s suit was compromised, the flight engineer, Captain Diedrich, interjected from his station behind the pilots, Look! He said pointing outside through the front window of the shuttle. Donald had lost his hold on the satellite and was drifting away, a tiny stream of visible gas swirling out of the puncture in his suit. It’s as cold and dead in that suit, as it is out there.

Get him back in here, now! Realms ordered, never looking out the window.

Gotcha, Diedrich answered, jumping up from his station. I’ll pull in his tether, he added, reaching for a panel behind him.

Houston. Realms had switched frequencies. Come in Houston.

Houston here, came the reply. The shuttle crew could hear excited voices in the background.

We have an emergency here, please advise, Realms said.

What is the problem? Huston replied.

We have lost all telemetry on Donald, Realms advised. How do you read him?

One moment please.

What the hell is going on? Realms said, throwing up his hands. They have the same telemetry we do? He turned to Diedrich. I’m telling you it’s a screw up, get him in.

Realms and Warren watched, as Donald was being pulled back toward the shuttle. They waited for a response, but the radio stayed silent. Donald was about to be pulled back into the shuttle bay when a response finally came from Houston. It looks like Donald’s suit was punctured.

Are you sure, we’re retrieving him now? Realms returned.

There was a short pause from Houston, then an excited voice. Where is he now?

We’ve almost got him back, Realms said.

Commander, Warren interjected.

Stop! Houston commanded.

What do you mean, stop? Realms sounded incredulous. He’s almost back on board. Realms turned to the engineer. Don’t listen to them, get him back aboard.

Commander, there is something strange— Warren repeated.

What are you talking— Realms turned to the copilot.

I’m getting readings from Donald, she interrupted.

Stop now, do not pull him aboard! the voice from ground control commanded excitedly.

Are you sure? Realms asked Warren.

Yes, see here, very faint readings from this area, she pointed to the screen in front of her, adjusting with her mouse.

Houston, we’re getting something from Donald! Realms shouted.

One moment please, was the return, but in moments, Reunion, disregard the signals and detach Donald.

We can’t just leave him! Realms pleaded.

Stop now, Houston ordered. I repeat, do not pull him aboard.

I don’t— Realms was about to protest farther, but he saw Captain Diedrich punched an icon, and Donald stopped ten feet short of the bay doors and began to spin slowly at the end of his tether, as Houston repeated. Detach the tether, now!

What about the signal? Realms shouted. He’s still with us, I tell you.

There was silence for a moment, and then a different, concerned voice came on the radio. Has Donald had any contact with your vehicle?

No! Realms was angry, No, he’s just spinning out there.

Detach him now.

Have you all gone batty? Donald needs our help, we can’t just leave him.

Donald is dead, the reply came back.

You don’t know that!

Donald is dead, detach him now.

This is bullshit! I’m not leaving one of my men, if there is any question—

Diedrich secretly motioned Warren; come back to my station.

If you bring Donald aboard, the entire shuttle will stay in orbit, indefinitely, the man from Houston threatened.

What? Who the hell made that decision? Realms cried.

It’s an operational directive, came the reply.

I know about that directive, Realms stated, but there—

Detach him now!

Who are you? Realms questioned, looking for confirmation to what he thought was stupid.

I don’t like the way this is going, Diedrich said in a whisper to Warren.

It is not relevant. Follow orders, detach Donald now, came the order from Houston.

They’re concerned about contamination, Diedrich said loud enough for everyone to hear.

The little green man syndrome. What a bunch of shit, Realms snarled from his pilot’s post. He turned back to face Diedrich. Let’s think this over.

There’s nothing to think about, Diedrich said angrily. I for one do not want to die up here! He pulled himself quickly back to his engineering post and reached for the counsel.

Wait, let’s think this over, Realms said calmer.

We’ve got our orders, Diedrich returned.

Bull! Realms exclaimed. In a more consolatory tone he continued Just let him reel out, but do not detach him, please. We have to think about Donald. He turned to Warren. You still getting the signal?

It’s very weak, but yeah, I’m sure it’s coming from Donald. Something strange is going on here.

Diedrich pushed an icon to release the tension on the tether to Donald. Donald’s slowly rotating body began to move away from the shuttle bay.

Why do you say strange? Diedrich asked.

This is data that our programs have no record of, Warren replied.

Great, we don’t need any more problems, Realms said. Are you sure it’s coming from him?

It’s Donald; I’m getting telemetry from him.

I knew it! Get him in here now! Realms exclaimed, then spoke into the microphone. Houston, we are getting some telemetry from Donald and are bringing him in.

You were ordered to detach him, do not bring him aboard.

But he’s alive!

He is dead!

We are getting telemetry from him, Realms argued.

We’re getting the same thing, and it has nothing to do with his life systems. Donald is dead.

But—

This is Keaton, a new voice from Houston said. Look at your sensors Commander! The temperature inside Donald’s suit is 150 below Celsius, and there is no air pressure. Donald cannot be alive.

He’s right, Diedrich added."

Goddamn-it, we don’t know that! Commander Realms had a nasty look on his face. He was a tall, good looking man when he was happy, but his face couldn’t hide the ugliness of the present situation. I can’t believe this! How can you just want to leave him out here? he shouted into his microphone. Give him some time, dammit, Realms pleaded.

He’s dead, Keaton returned. You have seventy minutes, then you need to set up for the reentry burn and to make the correct computations. You need to detach Donald . . . before then’. Keaton seemed to back off slightly.

What about his body? Realms asked in anguish.

His body will be recovered in a follow-up mission.

I just can’t—

Listen to me, Commander, Keaton interrupted. If you do not detach him shortly, you will miss the window of opportunity and you’ll stay out there with him.

We can go around again.

"No, you can’t; you don’t have the fuel for it.

Bullshit, we have a reserve, Realms disputed.

You are not going to jeopardize the mission and the rest of the crew with this insubordinate behavior. Detach Donald now, and maneuver for reentry, Keaton ordered with authority.

Something strange is happening with Donald, why aren’t they taking it serious? Realms lamented, turning to his crew.

You said it! Diedrich responded angrily. Dammit Bill, something strange is happening. This is exactly why that directive was implemented. You want to take a chance and bring this back to your wife and kids?

Commander Realms looked at Diedrich, then Warren. It looked like he had something to say, but after a moment he turned back to the front. Let’s get set for the maneuvering, but don’t cut Donald loose until the last moment.

Chapter 2

BACK ON THE PLANET’S SURFACE - Somebody please shoot me! the actor on the television requested. His name was Al.

A middle-aged man with unruly brown hair was scrunched up in a darkened room, enjoying the comforts of a deep couch, the glow from his laptop and the television providing the only light. I know how he feels, the man commented aloofly.

Behind him in the lighted kitchen was a thirtyish, attractive woman drying dishes.

The television changed scenes. Al is sitting, facing the audience. His thoughts are expressed in his own voice, a serene, stupid look on his face. Hooters, his voice proclaims, as an image of a buxom woman appears, the camera focusing only on her endowments.

Carl Boroughs, the man on the couch watches with detached interest, as an attractive redhead next to Al follows with her thoughts, Ah Rudapho, she pines, and the image is one of a manly, hunk motioning to her. Next, the son, Bud, is snuggling