Inner-Tech

By Dan Thomas

In the mesh of time, space, and dimensions, all existence has an encoded meaning that waits for translation. Inner Tech. is a work of science fiction/philosophy that endeavors to explore the vastness of reality and its spiritual side. From mental conception to the birth of a new generation, it follows the adventures and experiences in the memory of a being known simply as ‘Sojourn’. He embarks on a quest of questions and answers upon awakening to a desperate message given by a mysteriously ancient and alien library. To succeed he must bring all of his wits and will to the war of good against evil before existence itself is lost! Three catalysts of this ultimate destruction, each hidden in different layers of reality, must be found and given solution for continuance of the universe to remain! Everything is at stake, but not everyone wants him to succeed. The corrupt and equally determined demon Sahbul is not to be easily stopped in his ambition to become the material divinity.

Written in past tense and first-person narrative, Inner Tech. is the story of an individual and his place in the greater scenario of life. Diverse characters, each as concepts incarnate, aid him in the discovery of a strength and broader vision that becomes necessary for him to achieve his victory. Packed with action, symbolism, and an inspiring determination, the reader is engaged in a fascinating look at society, morality, and the mechanics of the cosmos. Communicating to an ever-growing audience of people in search of truth, it offers a unique perspective interwoven with classic elements of fiction. Based not only on imagination but also memories of the author's and others' many lives, prophetic dreams, and unusual metaphysical experiences, the intention of this book is both to entertain and stimulate thought on some of mankind’s most primal wonders.

The story divides easily into three separate parts, each a catalyst for a chain of events that lead to the conclusion. Every catalyst additionally represents a different aspect of the human experience. Starting with a cerebral, ancient, and sometimes abstract arena of the soul, it then progresses through a holistic model that applies equally to the individual and the mass of society. Secondly is the realm of the mind, which takes place on a seemingly primordial world that has been hidden from view, and whose populace has been stifled by the loss of their individuality. The third catalyst is a portrait of the body, or realm of the physical. Here is where a galactic war rages across the back-drop of space and multiple planets where four factions meet and battle for their causes. Although each catalyst appears disconnected from the others it is soon discovered that all of them have been orchestrated by the same entity of evil, and the solution is to be found in the strength of a moral will and awareness that transcends you to a higher dimension.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Thomas
• Release date: May 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458099136

Dan Thomas

Writer, truth-seeker, thinker

Book preview

Inner-Tech

Dan Thomas

Copyright 2011 by Dan Thomas

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Mental Conception

Chapter 2 - Birth of Purpose

Chapter 3 - The Threshold

Chapter 4 - Debate Amongst Freewill

Chapter 5 - Cerebral Arena

Chapter 6 - Renewal

Chapter 7 - Lure Of Pride

Chapter 8 - Battle Of Beasts

Chapter 9 - Things That Are Hidden

Chapter 10 - Fear And Friendship

Chapter 11 - Answers Inside And Out

Chapter 12 - The Second Step

Chapter 13 - Without Reason

Chapter 14 - Reaching

Chapter 15 - Chance

Chapter 16 - A History

Chapter 17 - Preparations

Chapter 18 - Awakening

Chapter 19 - A Greater Connection

Chapter 20 - My Future Home

Chapter 21 - Moving On

Chapter 22 - Coincidence

Chapter 23 - Pressure

Chapter 24 - Fellow Warriors

Chapter 25 - The Contrast

Chapter 26 - The Rescue

Chapter 27 - Analysis In The Sea

Chapter 28 - Menus Of Verbiage

Chapter 29 - Will Against Will

Chapter 30 - The New Journey

Chapter 1 - Mental Conception

Let us take that broad step into the great mysteries of life and emerge wiser from it. Retain humanity and forbid ourselves to ever dissolve into mere chemistry without so much consideration of soul or purpose. May we not end at the nearest and prefabricated solution that is so readily offered by others. Let us think for ourselves. Let us look beyond the facts to find meaning, and reach towards that horizon of truth in creation. Embark on this grand journey now and know in our hearts that who we are is purely representation from the imagination of a greater source.

My lives have been a clash of mighty and amazing circumstances. It has been a test of my understanding as well as my endurance. Loss and gain, struggle and serenity, triumph and failure . . . my lives are measured by these events. Through all of this, from the depths of my anger to the summits of my love, I have been a being in search of both myself and the truth of a broader reality. From the fog of the fields of Lahmu to the halls of Geometra, and even in the darkest caves of the Tak-Pah prison, I carried this quest in the essence of my heart.

True to any warrior's life, opposition has surrounded me. Fang and claw of bestial forms once swarmed me, and tore upon my youthful ego. Later came a war of minds that played with good intent to mold a product of ultimate control. Twisting fear and love, logic and heart . . . I was made lost by these enemies in the emptiness of great confusion. Then, battles and more battles seemed to follow me from planet to planet. There was the shriek of metal titans in space and the hiss of deadly weapons, while my soul cried for peace and my body strained in war. Little did I first suspect that it was all tied to a singularity . . . a single force and concept and entity that hounded me from the beginning to the end. Why was I pursued? How strange that it all started just because I dared to speak my mind . . . to simply utter a small truth that was, ironically, a matter of compassion.

I have a story to tell of lives and of dreams . . . a quest and many questions. Each Chapter is a part of my progression and each sentence is a thought. I pass them all to you now, and I hope that you will take from it what good you may. I hope that you find what wisdom or wonder there may be, and add it to your own for new heights of awareness to be achieved. To know this story you will know me, and so I think it now only proper to begin with an introduction.

I start before my birth, when all was in movement within an ocean of elements. I arrived at the sunrise of creation, and as it cast its rays across infinity, I hovered between the comforting folds of realities and existence without form. With consciousness as my tool I began to sculpt. I chiseled with temperament and resilience. There was patience, perception, and attitude, and of all the many it was but three traits I fused as one to be my essence. This is the form of my soul.

Morality, the first and most important of the three, was a decision easily made. In definition I give: the ability to distinguish the choices of best alignment to the greater good. The greater good is my cause and passion. Truest lobe of my heart, this love is my endurance. Where I was to go, and for what I was to do, it would be so very essential. My radiant frequency was to be sustainable. It had to be compatible with divinity's spark and higher existence. I could not have been limited by a lack of source to the creative and natural flow of this pure vitality that is my life plasma. I desired that my life need not to become a backslide of spirituality, and so I chose it first and foremost.

Intellect was the second gear of this, my internal invention. The frontier in which I was to travel is incredibly vast, yet I was certain a logical order could rule the turning of events. With an intellect of sufficient enough measure, I thought the intricacies of this order could be recognized and hence more easily navigated. It was earned of many lives . . . many experiences. It was a logic gained in time by both follies and triumphs. Later I had learned that the logic is not always so readily seen. Life contains many surprises, but I had felt that to think I might be better prepared. True or not, intellect would be a necessity I could not discard. Interpretation and comprehension of many circumstances would be its gift. Its chamber is the knowledge in my heart. Of great value and practical use that it is, however, this second piece could not be total without the compliment of another. Whereas the academic capability is advantageous to a soul's progression, it is not the true progression in and of itself. To this other side I needed the third trait. Balance of intellect would require this next tool of discernment, a tool of rare value, that then my essence would become complete.

I admit to some controversy concerning this third and acquired ingredient. Ever since the choice was made others have suggested to me that it was a mistake to select. There are hazards to be wary of . . . fear, greed, and arrogance. Intuition, love, and the willpower of passionate cause are its great advantages. Most who experience it claim it to be a hassle, and many try hard to suppress it. They call it unpredictable, troublesome, and testing to one’s thoughts. My conclusion came of long pondering; I could not neglect to recognize its potent purpose. It is the strongest lobe in my heart and one of movement. With intellect I could see the universal rules of the game and understand them, but only emotion could open my mind to view the exceptions. Emotion, that powerful sensation and drink of life, would be a thing I would come to rely on.

The signature of my soul was thus written but the full content of my character was still incomplete. The materialization of a body was needed to allow me to gain the full experience of physicality. Without a race already in existence so engineered for the use I intended, I would have to start one of my own. Every aspect of design would not only have to cater to a proper function, but also be a symbolic representation of who and what I was to be. This is the art of creation.

Location is the key. There was a planet tucked away . . . perched on the furthest ellipse of a seven bodied system. Numerous lives walked numerous lands and there have even been lives in flight of skies. I have been to mountains and forests, and on desert hills, but my time there was no longer needed. Aeta was my home as it is now at the end. Small and temperate, an ocean only freckled with land, it is the sort of planet I feel comfortable in calling my home. At first my choice was just for the practical, but now I have come to understand so much more. I see this place set to a new frame. Easy currents sooth my aged body and bring me peace. The ancient forests of amethyst and quartz spires, jutting far beyond the surface into the clouds, cast avenues of shade through the shallows where I sit. The fields of wispy donah that clutch the sandy floor . . . flocks of wayfins gliding so elegantly above and fanning oh so melodious waves with their majestic form; now I have appreciation. It is my aqueous cells. I am like this planet. To others I am described as a being of water . . . translucent, in motion, and visible only when out of this element. We are a shift and flowing thing, malleable and evolving, and we breathe the atmosphere of creation. I am tied to this planet on which I was born . . . made of water and crystal. I am smooth and rounded like the surface of its gentle waves. I am faceless . . . featureless . . . as Aeta might be seen from its orbit. There is nothing of me so very grand. I am a simple sentient, and truly quite basic a thing to look at. My complexities are not to be seen here, on the surface, for that you must look to a yet deeper layer. With so few inhabitants here my thinking comes easily and with clarity. I remember now so vividly the details of my story.

All are formed in orientation to a home, and yet mine would be double. Both the common and abstract would feed me that I could grow. The life I created was to fit a second terrain, that of the time-field. Lines of motion spiral the Torus of Time and to its banks is the contradiction of all and nothing as one. Waypoints and byways, mergers and steps, the linear and non . . . structures of crystal that pair my weave and symmetry. The channels of my body are durable and mend with matter to a natural course. Like time, I move in cycles. I evolve with the actions I take and the choices that are made.

Four limbs, two arms and two legs, would suffice for adequate mobility. These to a core, bioengine of subconscious functions, with a sphere atop as head to metaphorically seat my consciousness. A seeming tangle of genetic circuits bears that quiet twin, and play as captains. Maintaining the ship through the cast of the thruster's glow, it travels by hollow slides to its places. It joins with the strong muscle inside of me and makes contractions, sending waves of steady ability to hands, legs, and the pivot of my waist. Like the tides of a sea within me, called from an organic moon, I gained mobility with the flow of will. By long life this graces me.

Vision and touch I tied to one guide at the top of my heart. With silent waves of light cast-out and returned, I opened to the awareness of my surroundings. They say I shed light, a cool and blue haze, but such a description I can not recognize. This thing called color, the times of night and day, that which is two-dimensional . . . all so foreign to me yet called so common. I see what I feel and feel what I see . . . outside and in shares an empathy. With spirit so joined to perception I could learn quickly from others and the examples they would provide. Although necessity limited the range, I found to have interpretation of the three dimensions, omnidirectionally, down to the cellular.

I hear sound without ears. Speech that others give me is no more than noise, yet when minds bond I listen and talk and recognize meaning. What is said is more in concepts than words . . . feelings caught in telepathy . . . ideas made manifest in my understanding. Some hear me, some do not, and others still think my voice is the whispering of their own thoughts. Perhaps my clarity is better found in those who can relate to my emotions.

Soul, mind, and body as one. . . only purpose remained. To this I must earn and so equip myself with an understanding as a map. The sands of a desert are a tumble of stories shifting from the winds of decisions. Every grain of possibility touches the other in a dune that is existence. There is a past that was once warmed by the sun as a present . . . a future blown by time from beneath to rise again as a now. I was an original, the first of my kind, and as the root I also became the bud that bloomed a complex matrix of probabilities. Instantly integrated through the invisible tether that binds all is myself and those who followed, the influence of our consciousnesses, and the subtlety of being.

Like a frantic bolt of lightning in the sky, the moment of transition had come. A surge passed through me and a forceful roar blotted out all contemplations. Its echoes radiated outward in all directions. A deep shutter flowed over me as if my muscle was tormented awake from a sleep it never wished to emerge from. Waves of energy resonated with total consumption and everything seemed to spin with increasingly greater velocity until, finally, I had become planted into my first of many foreign ports . . . life!

Chapter 2 - Birth of Purpose

All is with meaning is a wise old phrase. Often we stumble into our experiences because we are not observant enough to translate those subtle calls and cloaked messages that destiny sends. We ready ourselves with a devotion to observance and stare with wonder for the time that is right . . . the time that speaks and we hear . . . the time by which we will remember as defining. Ready or not however, our circumstance will come, and when they do is the truest test. Realize, and to the challenge forge a destiny with the steel of righteous cause.

A burdening density was pushing me against the silent sea floor. Everything was blurry as first, as if caught in the tumble of a wave. I couldn't move much but to twitch my limbs with little hope of accomplishment. I laid there in the soft mud as helpless as a stone wishing to flip upon its back.

Cycles of persistence and fatigue were my occupiers until some basic self control was eventually obtained. Once finally capable enough to right myself to the sway of drowsy feet, my senses had mostly cleared. It was as if I had never worn a body before . . . as if I was wearing a suit of iron or clothes of heavy stone. I remember feeling so clumsy as I stumbled about, lost in an undiscovered world, and falling to my knees every ten steps. Each one was a test of balance and endurance. I am thankful that this difficult lumbering lasted only temporarily, or this story would be far too humble to be worth the telling.

Where was I walking? What was I doing? I didn't really know. I felt improvised of purposeful action, bewildered, and confused. I could remember only flashes of nondescript movement and floods of sensations too difficult and vague to clarify. I wasn't at the time even sure how I had arrived at this strange and vacant place. No landmarks. No settlements. No other like being in sight . . . alone, yet nonetheless I walked.

Like a distant memory my tracks vanished in the gentle currents of time. This was my infancy . . . to travel and survive. I had to pioneer the methods of my needs, although so often I felt myself too drained of both strength and ambition to consider what those needs were. I learned to absorb life from the water. I found companionship in the solitude of my thoughts. My senses were my teachers and they tested me constantly, yet still I traveled.

Once I had cleared the desert in which I was born and entered the fertile lands of abundance and growth, I had come to take shelter near the narb covered steps that rose close to the water’s surface above me. They helped me to evade the periodic storms that would sweep the sea floor and set to tumbling that which lacked strength to hold it secure. I settled to a simple routine . . . yet still I was wanting. It nagged me constantly. I wandered hoping to find it . . . I wondered hoping to realize it, but my efforts would always fail me. Same as my tracks, my life seemed to be nothing more than the imprints in the silt that had faded behind me. To simply live was not enough. There was no progression in anything I did.

Time had passed, until the accumulation of monotonous drudgery had finally peaked. I had walked my limit without refuge from the search for an unknown answer, and sat myself atop a smoothly humming stone. So far all I had gained from life seemed to be a struggle. The futility had overwhelmed my stamina and morale. I was left with no distinguishable sign of progress from where I had begun, and so I think even divinity questioned my survival. Was the existence of montoo to become nothing more than a single ripple against the waves of fluid time? Was I to be the first of a lost and tragic race? I had no guides. . . no parents to show me the way.

I remember the peace as I sat in recuperation. Only the easy currents brushing the land made a stir. Lazily they breathed with consistent flux, and I became aware that I was drifting from the bonds of consciousness. My vision narrowed in focus to no more than the extent of my own presence. Exhaustion coupled with the hypnotic caress of the ocean and eventually lulled me into a complete rest. Somehow I had to regenerate. Somehow I had to discover meaning.

Stop . . . that was suddenly how it became. Silence . . . and nothing moved excepting myself. I was hovering so freely and without toil above the stone on which I had moments ago collapsed, removed from the body I had so carefully made. I could move with all the grace and ease of a ray surveying its grounds. I found freedom in mind and soul. I had, rather unexpectedly, slipped into the null time where moments are forever. Now I was nearing the nutrient my body had hungered for all along, and I could feel my strength returning. My exertions, so much in illusionary vain, had spurred the meditation that brought me this connection. Absorbing the moment . . . an osmosis of detail within a timeless solace . . . the needful consumption of unseen sustenance. I feasted of the essential vitality found in that captured instant until filled to my satisfaction. I learned to tap that endless spring whenever needed. It was an abundant source that could be harvested wherever an expression of mind could come gracefully without distraction, and would always return me to fit. It was hope and it was faith. It was the realization that there is far more than what would seem.

Wait, for there was still something else to this advantageous state to tell. Here I had found the avenues of experimentation and the kindling of dreams. I could scout without exertion. I could diagram my thoughts and strategies at leisure. Freedom of mind for its array of manifestations sketched concepts into solidity. The first concept to be drawn was by fate extending a hand to offer the guide I longed for . . . the next page of destiny's script. I awoke and saw it.

A small animal, now called by my kind an emerace, wriggled to-and-fro while snaring plikea in the lines of its fleshy net. Plikea, intrigued into the grasp of the net, were caught on its normal and unassuming travels from one crack in the rocks to another. It emerged from its den into the hunting waters of necessity, same as I emerged from the non-incarnate into the hunting waters of my spiritual necessity. Also dear to me was the fact that it was a first, born of purpose and for reason . . . reason which I had found the path to discover. In personal application, part of that reason was to lead me to the next stepping stone that perched over yet deeper waters. It would lead me to meaning.

It darted and slipped past the lazy lines of youmer that sprouted from the ridge of a hill. The emerace then waited, turned, and then darted once more. Its heading was towards a cluster of spires in the thick of the forest. I followed and continued my observance until I saw it come to a particular cluster where it stalled before burrowing downward into the foliage. My notice shifted from the emerace to the background . . . a bristling of crystal art. Then I saw the base between two spires that leaned together like crossed legs of a standing giant; the entrance to a cavern. Buffering from the waves and the warmth of these comparatively shallow waters drenched all in an opulence of clinging life that obscured the way, but yes, there was indeed an entry to a large cave and I felt drawn to explore it.

Everything now seemed saturated in song and dance to the whimsical rhythm of the currents. There was a familiarity encompassing this area . . . not just simple recognition but more akin to that of a painter to his portrait or parent to their child. There was comfort of the company and the affection that is forged in time with mutual trust. It was a potent sense that seized me, and it was calling me closer and closer. In someway yet uncovered then, I knew this sanctuary well.

Storms were brewing. I heard the sound of waves crashing the sky and breaking against the tops of the tallest stalagmites, and the powerful rush of chilling water charged with activity. Serpent tongues of fire licked the horizon between the above and below. The kingly roar of demanding waves pressed to conform to yet greater and greater ferocity. What was once a mirror above my head became as pitted as a forgotten road. All trembled at the quake of thunder, all shuttered to a thrill . . . and it was all additional motivation for me to enter the shelter of the cavern. Inward I walked amidst the buzzing voice of living stone. My steps were slow but not hesitant and came almost removed from mindful decision. Echoes of my walk reached forth into the unknown and returned with stuttering reinforcements. Deeply onward the tunnel traversed, downward and in, teasing me of the surprise buried within its cool walls. Every pace I took increased my curiosity two-fold.

What is impossible I ask you? Is it the confines of an inadequate realization or the task that is always one step beyond? Can the present not only be influenced by the past but also the future? There are always so many questions without expedient answers. What was found at the end of the cave posed just that flavor of conundrum. It was logically impossible to find what I did. There could be seen no history or record or explanation to it. You understand, the cave had not been formed by natural means, nor by any predecessor. It was there, but by no reason should it have been. I know this is hard to conceive, so I ask that you trust in answers yet to be revealed. In time this evidence would be further provided.

A domed room, seemingly cut and polished from the center of the amethyst cluster, was apparent to my sight. The room was large, much more so than what should have been possible, with a machine of sorts suspended in the middle by a cable from the ceiling. An archway with a sealed door paralleled me. From the floor, at about half my height, each with successive depths, three grooves adorned the circumference of the walls. It had a heavy feeling in here . . . heavy in context of importance. I knew I had entered a place that would somehow change the course of my life forever.

The machine was a sphere at heart, comprised of many more spheres each the size of a fist. Nothing noticeable bonded them together, yet in spite of what must have been a considerable mass, they clinged tirelessly in matrix. Inside new orbs were being manifested like air bubbles that would rise then meld into the others. Its sound was like that of garbled conversation without symmetry or pattern. An imitation of life or maybe life in fact, I could not distinguish. Surrounding it were perplexing columns of stacked rings, each one snugly fit against the next, which ran from floor to ceiling. The rings that comprised the towers were of coiled wire spun in spirals around a core until continuing to the beginning of the next ring above. Metallic pins, likely millions of them, prickled through the wire wrapping. They bristled like a thorny bush in silhouette and I wondered if there was danger, but an intuitive chuckle claimed a reassuring, ‘of course not’.

Chance played its next card with the aid of nature. A bolt from the sky above with a thirst for drama fell upon this cluster which I had entered and mobilized the mystery. As rapid as rainfall I turned to find the vibrant humming of blazon walls. The hum then became the buzz of a thousand enraged hornets. The orb of orbs was shaking like a banner in a gale. I paced my steps backward in anticipation of inevitable danger, but no explosion erupted . . . no fog of debris, though still the danger was even more real than I knew. Surprisingly this danger was not however of this moment, but rather it was the danger of time in general. The intensity was to the degree that it seemed somehow disconnected from possibility, yet my denial of it could not be triggered. Instead, I slipped into a state encompassed by a sense of surrealism.

Every sphere of the device simultaneously ignited walls of expanding force until I could no longer distinguish one from the other. It was like a burning star in miniature, complete with a heat wave which knocked me back a few steps nearer the wall. I felt suddenly very small in a scenario of a grand scale and ashamed of my impatience. How quickly had the physical world duped me into forgetting what I had known before my birth. Life is more than survival or the self, it is a serious task . . . a mission of importance that reaches beyond myself as an individual. I thought of myself as secluded, having no company of others, but that seclusion was about to become as transparent as a veil of thin gauze.

A band appeared vertically around the star's surface. Slowly it tightened, pinching the sphere into two lobes. As it tightened, one side began pulling the life from the other like a robber sneaking food from his brother's cupboard. The more one side was depleted, the more the object would spin in momentum of the taker's weight. Dizzyingly it kept turning and turning until the lobes fractured into separate stars. The taker's star, which had selfishly vampirised the other, churned and flared in turmoil of itself. Disconnected from sustenance and gasping, it burned itself raw from the inside out leaving a single boulder fragmented and clouded in dust. Sadness at its loss of luminescence mixed with reluctant acceptance to the unfortunate state of which it had become. The justice of its downfall had manifested complete.

Saddening more was the host, but its future still had hope. Plundered was its body until hollowed and thin, yet the spark of creation still glowed within. Steadily the spark gathered itself to recapture the strength of its righteous wage. Once again the delicate though resilient bubbles began to form and reconnect. It grew steady and even with a gracious new life. When it had rebound fully it pulsed with well earned pride and hovered in peaceful and suspended acceleration. Vibrancy continued even to