The Transmuter: The Atlantean Library

By William C Barnes

World Renowned Baritone Greg Thomas is having trouble keeping his life in order as he confronts his wife's terminal illness. To compound his troubles, Greg sufferes from terrifying nightmares that though are far from his worldly experience, seem to hold significance in his life. 

 

After sufferering an embarrassing  nervous breakdown on stage in front of hundreds of people, Greg undergoes psychiatric care to get to the root of his problems. Hypnotic regression is used and what comes out from his regression is astounding and terrifying!

 

Greg is lead on a search into his past-life in Atlantis and goes in search for a hidden Atlanteam Library. His search for the hidden Library coincides with his inner search for peace and reconciliation.

 

July 14, 2020

Wayne Williams

This book is a roller coaster ride!  It took me places I have never been before!

 

May 15, 2021

Dr. Ron De Vasto

Bill Barnes knows his stuff! His portrayal of regression therapy and its uses in psychiatry are absolutely spot on!  This is a great book for those interested in Atlantis, psychology, or science fiction!

 

January 7, 2021

Andrew W. Parker

Take it from me.  This is on helluva good book.  It's a page turner!  I sat down with the intention od reading a few pages and ended up reading the whole thing in one sitting. It's that good!

 

February 18, 2021

Joe Nagy

What an imagination Barnes has!  He explains the working of the Atlantis device in great and plausible detail.  How did he come up with this?

• Language: English
• Publisher: William C Barnes
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393440765

Book preview

In Blake, Greg saw his past-life brother, Yatreyo.  The realization made his knees weak. A great sense of anxiety overtook him because he knew that both men were insane. Both did not value life. This was a test for Greg. Could he reach Blake and save the Device?

INTRODUCTION

TORNADO

Tornado, I have something to tell you that will make you smile, Dove said, tenderly touching his shoulder.

Tornado brushed her hand away.  I’m not interested. He growled.

Dove was hurt. Well, you can be angry for the moment if you want, she snapped. I’m going to go pick wild onions.

Just leave me alone right now, Tornado snarled back.  I’ll probably feel better when you return.

I hope when I come back your heart will be changed.  I really need to tell you something.  It’s good news.

Tornado looked at her blankly, then waved her off, bent over, and went back to tending to the horse’s hoof.  Undeterred by Tornado’s mood, she came up and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

I love you, she said, and then went dancing off into the grass, singing to herself.

Tornado watched her go and smiled.  And I love you too, he thought inwardly.  He reflected on how much fun they had been sharing, and he was surprised that he was now able to admit it to himself.  I have no choice but to love her, he thought. 

There was great irony in the thought of having no choice, and he chuckled to himself.  I’ve had very few choices while with the Apata tribe, he mused, "but this choice made for me has become a joy.  When she tells me what she wants to tell me, I’ll surprise her and tell her that I love her."

Tornado was tending to another sore hoof on his horse when he heard a high-pitched scream coming from the prairie.  Others in the encampment heard  it, too.  Tornado jumped on his horse and rode off like lightning in the direction of the scream.  There he found the bear throwing someone around as if they were a piece of cloth in the wind.

Tornado flew off his horse and landed on top of the bear.  He stabbed it repeatedly, but it would not let go of its victim.  Other men joined him and finally they killed the bear.

Completely out of breath, they ran over to the bear’s victim and rolled the body over.  It was Dove!

No! Tornado cried. NO! He bent over his wife and examined the wounds.  There was no place on her body that had not been clawed or scratched.

Dove, Dove! he cried in despair.

Blood gurgled from her mouth as she struggled to speak. Tornado, my love...

Oh, don’t die, Dove! Tornado cried.  I love you; I love you! 

But Dove’s eyes were now glazing over, her pupils became fixed and dilated.  She lay still and unmoving.

With his face and clothing covered in her blood, Tornado stood up, lifted his head toward the sky, and cried out, No-o-o-o-o!! long and hard.  His voice echoed throughout the valley.

He had dismissed her for so long  due to his self-preoccupation and paid the bitter price for  ignoring his one true love. Only when she died did he realize her love for him. Later he would find out that the good news was that she was carrying his child. Guilt and grief wracked his body and spirit.  What was he to do without her?

SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER

TORNADO  MEETS HIS END

The tribal elder was restless. At 95 years Tornado had lived a long life—longer than expected for a Kepke. Longer than he should have, for he lived to see each of his five sons succeed him as Chief and holy man and die respectively to their age.  Now his great grandchildren succeeded their father’s fathers to a position of Chief. Tornado was still in good health. He could walk unassisted and had a lilt in his step.

Tornado grew restless. He felt he had one last thing he must do before finding peace in the next world. He wasn’t sure what that was.  He called out to the Forest of Thought and Creation, but it gave him no answer, He prayed to the Great Everywhere Father but received no insight.

He tried one last time to call upon up the spirits to guide him and finally an answer came.

You took a three-year vision quest as a boy to grow into a man, they told him. Now as a man to must take a vision quest to become a child! Go into The Forest of Thought and Creation. Find the crystal that looks like ice. Go through it. You will help a future self-realize the truth of continuing life.

Tornado was confused, but he had lived long enough to trust the words of the spirits and so he called upon his great grandson, Mountain Bear, the Kepke tribe Chief to come to his teepee.

Mountain Bear came at his great grandfather’s beckon. They sat together and performed the pipe ceremony. In addition, Tornado burnt sage and cleansed them too.

I must leave, Tornado finally spoke. I am too old, and I must go on to do one more thing before I die. I feel I am a burden to my people.

But you are hardly a burden to us, grandfather, Mountain Bear said. You still participate in hunts and your aim is as true as ever.

I am a burden to myself for I have one last thing to do but am unsure of what it is.  The spirits talked about changing from a man to a child.  I am confused but I’ve lived long enough to trust the words of Spirit. I will leave tomorrow.  I will not return.  I do not want anyone to be sad or try to run after me.  Celebrate my life as you would anyone who has passed into the light for, I am sure that I soon will.

The next day he gathered his bow and arrow and spear.  He dressed in his best buckskins and said his goodbyes to friends and family. He shared one last pipe ceremony with Mountain Bear and ate a small breakfast. Then he was off to the center of the Forrest.

He walked nearly half a day until he saw a bright light between two trees.  It was the crystal mirror.  He hesitated a moment and then walked through the mirror.

Instantly he found himself on a very high butte overlooking an immense canyon.  He never thought that such a place could exist! He walked to the edge of the butte and looked down. The bottom was almost indistinguishable. He walked around the butte. What am I looking for? He wondered.

Finally, on the ground he saw an area that did not look just right.  It looked like ground yet it shimmered waves like those in the water of a pool after a rock had been thrown in. He put one foot in it and slipped. The next thing he knew he was in a deep hole but did not fall. He found that the hole was lit and could feel the air inside was fresh and crisp. What surprised him the most was that he was not falling.  He was upheld and felt weightless. Next to him wre two horizontal poles with vertical planks in between them. Instinctively Tornado knew that he was to use this thing to descend down to the bottom of the hole.

It was a long descent and Tornado thought it would never end. When he reached bottom, he felt a slight force pull at his legs and he was no longer weightless.

He stood in the dim light of the hole from which he had descended. Expecting to meet someone. He called out. I am Tornado, of the Kepke tribe. Is anyone here? With that there appeared light showing that Tornado was in a large cave.  But this was unlike any other cave he had seen.  The walls were flat and there were corners in the walls. Out of immense curiosity he walked around the cave and studied the walls.

Within the walls were spheres that looked like they were made of the same thing as the mirror he had stepped into.

Round rocks! he thought. He took one from the walls. It was as big as his fist and fit into the palm of his hand. It felt cool. To the touch. He placed it back into the wall and heard a small suction noise as the sphere nearly popped from his hand and was back in the wall.

He turned around and saw a wall where action was taking place, before his eyes were scenes of strange animals that seemed to come out of the wall.  At first, he was afraid and shot an arrow at the large beast, but it went through him and bounced off the wall behind it.

Then the scene changed. He saw an island made of circles with water in between them. A long wide straight river passed through each circle until it met the large island in the middle.

The scene changed and he saw one lone man holding a woman as walls and stone trees fell around him. The man was crying because a knife protruded from her breast.

A voice rang in his head. You are here to help a future self-realize the truth of life. Watch the scenes before you and learn.

Tornado sat down in a cross-legged position and watched many things passed before his eyes. Sometime thereafter, he felt his soul release from his body, and he rose up and found himself on the butte again.  He lifted his arms up to the sky and sang.

My heart is on the wings of the eagle.  My soul is his sacred pipe offering for you. Everywhere Father I fly to your bosom.  Show, me your light.

THE DREAMS CONTINUE

Greg woke up from the sofa with a snort.

I’m glad your awake, his wife Leslie said. I thought you were going to spend the whole night on the sofa.

I had that strange dream again, Greg rubbed his eyes.

Which one? About the Native American or the man in the crumbling building? Leslie asked.

The one about the Native American, Greg replied.

Well let’s go to bed, Leslie shook her head.  You’ll sleep better there and maybe you won’t have any more silly dreams."

Greg followed her up the staircase. It wasn’t silly, his voice showed irritation.  I think it means something. When they reached the bedroom, they undressed and climbed into bed. Leslie snuggled her thin frail body into Greg and rested her head on his shoulder.  I am so tired..." She drifted off to sleep.

Greg lay awake pondering the dream but soon fell asleep himself.

ANOTHER DREAM

Crumbling stones grated against each other screeching like a great dying beast bellowing against its inevitable fate. Falling carved marble fragments and dust showered all around Ev Meta Aboytos as he moved quickly through the dying temple. He could not see far through the contaminated air, and he had to step around fallen statues and furniture.

Irini!  Irini! he cried out as he stumbled over sharp shards that cut his feet through the open webbing of his sandals.

Aboytos looked around wildly trying to see an opening. He coughed, unable to breathe as the dust from the hallway filled his lungs. He looked up towards new sounds coming from above. The ceiling stones were shaking apart from the relentless earth tremors ravaging the entire country. The elegant pillars would not hold the ceiling supports much longer. Thin sheets of gold leaf mixed with berry and aqua marine paint flakes floated down mixed into the marble dust. The finely painted and gilded finish of the wall and ceiling murals offered no resistance to the unleashed wrath of an offended mother earth.

Aboytos walked with his back to the wall to avoid the falling rubble.  Patting along the mosaic walls his hand found empty air and an entrance into an anteroom. The dust was not as thick here. He saw a feminine form on the marble floor.

Irini! Aboytos called as he rushed to the woman and gently rolled her over. A dagger protruded from the blood-stained dress; its sharp bronze blade buried in her chest cavity. Tears filled Aboytos’ eyes as he saw Irini’s life blood spread out from her dress over the floor.

Oh, Irini!  What have I done?  Aboytos wailed. He pulled her face to his and wept.

Save yourself... she murmured.

Irini, you’re alive! He quickly looked around the crumbling room to assess the options. Let me get you out of here!

No, Aboytos, Irini gurgled as blood poured from her mouth. "Save yourself.  Leave me and save yourself...We will return together to love again."

No! No, Irini, I won’t leave you!

The hand carved stone temple that had stood for two thousand generations disintegrated around Aboytos as he embraced Irini. Ignoring the sharp fragments that tore into his flesh, Aboytos sheltered Irini’s body with his own as the temple shuddered in its death throes.

Aboytos put his face to Irini’s. I won’t leave you, Irini. Tears washed down his face.

I won’t leave you, Irini, I won’t leave you, Irini Aboytos repeated as the great ceiling supports separated from their columns and fell burying him and his beloved.

CRYING IN THE NIGHT

Greg!  Greg, wake up!

Greg Thomas was startled awake by the sound of his wife’s, urgent voice. He rolled over facing Leslie.

You’re having that nightmare again! She patted his cheek.

Even in the darkened room he could see the ravages of her illness. She looked drawn, and pale.

Oh, Leslie, I am so sorry I woke you up again, Greg said softly. He reached his arm under her head and neck and drew her closer. She was so emaciated he felt he could count her bones. He feared that if he held her too tightly, they might fracture.

I know how much you need to rest. I have no control over these weird dreams. Greg looked at the ceiling as the undesired conclusion seemed obvious.

Maybe I should sleep in the other room.

Leslie reached up and gently pulled Greg’s face to hers and planted a loving peck on his nose.

No silly. Don’t do that.

Leslie feebly shook her bony finger at Greg, with a joking scold.

But this lack of sleep is not helping me. Maybe you should get that help we talked about.

Leslie, you know I don’t want to leave you alone for unnecessary things, Greg protested.

Unnecessary? Every night you call out for some ‘Irini’ or ‘Dove’ and then you can’t tell me who she is. 

Leslie gave Greg a stern look, and then gently smiled,

I’m not sure I like the competition from the mystery women who keep invading my husband’s sleep. I want to be the only woman in bed with you. I don’t want you leaving me for these two women even in your dreams. 

Greg drew Leslie even closer and placed his cheek against hers.

You are the only woman for me. Leslie, I won’t leave you.

Greg closed his eyes and repeated his word softly to Leslie,

I won’t leave you, Leslie. I won’t leave you, Leslie.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, but Leslie was again asleep and did not hear Greg crying.

CHAPTER ONE

JERRY FLANZER

It had been a long day of seeing clients and  Dr. Jerry Flanzer, a psychiatrist, was more than ready to go home, take a shower and hit the sack.  Jerry actually worked two jobs. He saw clients and taught psychiatry at New York State University.

He began his practice twenty-five years before, first as an emergency room physician.  Later he took up psychology and psychiatry because the money was better, and he would get more sleep. His small practice and class schedules kept him very busy. 

Jerry stood at about six two, was thin and had graying hair that stood straight up from his head.  He looked like he never combed it.

The high-powered clients were not always in his life or his career He got a job teaching psychology and psychoanalysis at New York.  He came to more prominence during 9/11 when he volunteered hours upon hours of his time to counseling and/or treating survivors or affected families.  The articles about his work in the New York Times brought him to the attention of celebrities and public figures alike who wanted Jerry’s help.

Jerry had an unusually busy day. He taught two classes at the University and then worked through lunch time seeing clients. The last client Jerry saw that late afternoon was the most draining. It was a new patient evaluation.

Although psychiatrists are expected to keep an objective stance it was hard to not sympathize with a client who lost a $4,500 a week job and whose house went into foreclosure just after his wife asked for a divorce.  The man was a wreck. Despite his emotional condition, he refused to take a prescription for depression.

I don’t think taking medicine is going to solve my problem Doc, he said. gripping the sides of the chair, almost angry that Jerry would suggest such a thing. He looked like he was ready to jump out of the chair at any minute and lunge for the door.

Look, Jerry tried to assuage the man. A lot of men like you try to handle their problems on their own and few have any success by sucking it up and going on.  The fact that you’re here with me tells me loud and clear that you know you need help.

Now you’re right.  Taking a little green capsule will not solve your problems, but it will calm your mind enough that you can deal with your anxieties and work with me to help you put your losses into perspective.  You have a lot on your mind, and you need to have some remedy.

I just don’t know. The man said.  I feel like I’d be less of a man by taking drugs.

And then what’s your alternative? Jerry asked. Doing nothing?  Let me ask you a question: Are you sleeping well?

No. My mind is going over and over the problems. The man answered.

How would you like to quiet your mind so you get sleep, and you can handle your situation with a clear mind? Jerry asked.

His client loosened his grip from the chair and put his hands in his lap.

I guess that would be alright, the man spoke resignedly.

The medicine should help stop you from ruminating too much over your problems so you can sleep.

" I’m writing you a prescription for 30 milligrams of Cymbalta,  It’s a starting dose.  Take it in the morning. Now keep in mind that the medicine takes full effect, emphasis on full effect in six to eight weeks, but you will still feel a difference almost right away. After a few weeks we’ll see if a larger dose is need."

Do you still have insurance? Jerry asked.

I have COBRA for three months, then I’m out of  luck.

Alright, I’ll do two things for you: one, I’ll charge you on a sliding scale, two, I’ll supply you with samples until you get on your feet. Will that help?

Yeah, the man brightened. That nice of you.

Nice has nothing to do with it, Jerry answered. I’m a doctor and my job is to help people heal themselves. Now once your emotions are a bit more under control, we’ll discuss your challenges in detail and we will discuss options you can take. Have you applied for unemployment benefits?"

I will next month when my severance runs out, the client replied.

Good.  You already have a plan.  That’s a first good step.  If you have any funny reactions or you feel suicidal[1], you call me day or night. OK?  Your problems are not insurmountable, and you need to tell yourself that when you start ruminating. If you even think of suicide, let me know.  Remember: suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

The man smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. I feel like I have no support...if you know what I mean.

Well, there’s a wealth of legal and financial aid that you can receive.  We’ll talk about that next time we meet.

Thanks, Doc.

Well, I see our hour’s up. I’m very glad to meet you.  I’ll see you at the same day and time next week, OK?

"Sure, I have nothing else to do right now, the man smiled for the first time since he walked into Jerry’s office.

Joking is a good start. Hang in there and you’ll be alright.

The man left and Jerry plunked down in his leather chair. He put his hands on the arms of the chair and put his head back.

I have to stop doing first time evals the last thing during the day, he thought.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SPHERE

Jerry sighed, got up from his chair and put on his coat.

As he was putting papers in his briefcase there came a knock on his door.

Come, Jerry called  out.

It was his colleague, Matt Peterson.

Hey, Matt!  How was your vacation? Where’d you go?  Oh yeah, I remember, Bimini.

We had a great time, Jerry.  I brought you a souvenir.

I thought you might find this interesting, Jerry. 

Matt handed Jerry a small wooden box. I found it while snorkeling.  Jerry opened it.  Inside was a clear shiny sphere.

Interesting Jerry said. very... interes...Say?  Did that thing just light up?  My God! It’s lighting up! Jerry exclaimed. It lights up when I talk!"

Shake it, Matt said, and it throws off sparks.

Before Matt could stop him, Jerry took the sphere out of the box and shook it. Instantly Jerry dropped  it.

Sonovabitch! He held his stretched right hand by the wrist. It tasered me! 

I tried to tell you, Matt chuckled.  Don’t worry. The pain will go away in a minute or so.  I thought you might take it to the geology department at the university to see what makes it tick. I’m sure young  Jack would be fascinated by it.

More like the physics department, Jerry shook his hand to get rid of the numbness. "Wait.  You work here too. Why don’t you take it to the Physics Department?"

Well, my work is done here, Matt seemed anxious to leave Jerry’s office. Just don’t fiddle too much with it.  It practically destroyed my living room! And with that Matt left hurriedly as if he was trying to get away from the gleaming sphere.  Outside Jerry’s door Matt called out: I think the damned thing’s possessed!

Wait a minute, Matt! Jerry called after his friend.  He shot out of his office running toward the staircase.  He looked over the banister and saw Matt was two levels down in the stairwell.

Matt! What do you mean it destroyed your living room?  Jerry called.  Just be careful! Matt shot back as he disappeared around the next level.

Jerry went back to his office.  He gingerly and silently picked the sphere up from the floor.  He was afraid of getting a duplicate shock from the thing.

Well, he said to the sphere that lit up with his voice, I’m gonna take you home with me for a while before I turn you over to anyone.  I’m sure there’s nothing else like you anywhere.

MATT GETS A WARNING

Matt was in the middle of cleaning up his trashed living room. Suddenly the front door to his apartment flew open.  Blake had kicked it open.

Before Matt could react, Blake grabbed him by the collar and kneed him in the groin.

"Why didn’t you give that sphere to me!? Blake roared.

I didn’t think you knew you had it, Matt was still in pain.  His balls ached.

You know I know everything, Blake roared again.  You didn’t think that I wouldn’t bug your place too?  Asshole!" You’re putting me through a lot of trouble.  Prometheus  Retro wants...I want that sphere! I guess I’ll have to bug Flanzer’s room too."

How... how did you know...

I have my ways! Blake seemed to settle down.

Now I’ll be patient with you.  Don’t do that again or... he kneed Matt again.  You’ll be sorry.

Matt crumpled to the floor and Blake left, leaving the front door opened.

ON THE WAY HOME

The subway ride was unusually jostling and with people crowded together nose to armpit, Jerry had to hold tightly to his briefcase.  He tried to appear nonchalant as a humming sound emanated from his briefcase.  He averted everyone’s eyes.

Whaddaya  got in your case, Mack? a man with a weathered face a hardhat and big biceps asked suspiciously.

Uh, I got one of those talking birthday cards for my kid, Jerry lied. 

Oh, replied the construction worker.  Yeah! Dem tings get mighty annoyin’ if ya get my drift. 

Jerry indeed got his drift.  The man seriously needed a shower. 

He went on. Since nine eleven I guess we’re all kinda shaky about everything, hey buddy?

Jerry smiled back at him weakly and looked in another direction, which is New York subway speak for: I don’t want to talk anymore.

When Jerry got home, he threw his coat on the couch.  Just as he was about to toss his briefcase alongside his coat, he thought better of it.  The sphere was still humming away.  Jerry wondered if the sphere had somehow absorbed energy from the jostling in the subway and was now just letting off steam. By the time he finished his micro waved meal the humming had subsided.

After dinner Jerry showered and wrapped himself in a thick Turkish towel robe.  He sat on the small sofa and reached for his briefcase.  He opened it with the care of care a bomb sniffer. He gently took out the box and placed it on the coffee table next to the sofa.  Alright, he opened the box. Let’s see what this little bugger can do.

He clapped his hands and the sphere lit up the color of white.  He tried speaking to it and the sphere rattled a bit in the box while giving off blue and red hues. I wonder what it would do with other sounds, he thought.  He turned on the television and put up the volume. The sphere levitated a foot in the air from the box and began throwing off sparks and lights that bounced off the walls of the living room like a disco ball. It levitates?  That’s damned spooky! But as startled as he was, his curiosity was even greater.

What would music do? he wondered.  "Let’s see... Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi opera, La Forza del Destino,  I’ll try them all."

Mozart’s Symphony in G Major produced a similar response to the television except the lights were not harsh.  Instead, the sphere gave off pastel colors that filled the room.  Along with the colors came the smell of flowers.  This thing produces olfactory sensations!? he exclaimed.

Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony colors  were more forceful and the scent changed to that of fresh air after a rain.

The scents are so distinct!

I have to see what the human voice can really do to this thing!  Jerry found a particular track featuring a tenor aria from Verdi’s La Forza del Destino.  The sphere levitated up another foot or so from the box and the colors became even brighter. But the scent it gave off was that of a men’s locker room.

Phew!

"Let’s try one more voice.  A lower voice," he thought.  Jerry found a track for the baritone aria Urna Fatale –The Fatal Letter.  Ominous, Jerry thought aloud.  I wonder what smell I’ll get with this one.

The aria started up: Urna fatale del mio destino... the sphere shot up two more feet and began to rotate in all directions; first laterally and then diagonally.  It gave off the smell of ozone.  As the aria built to its crescendo, the sphere took on a life of its own shooting around the room knocking into books on a shelf that then turned into dust; knocking into a wall causing the plaster to flow as if it were melting. The sphere orbited the room disintegrating anything that it came in contact with. Jerry could not get to the cd player fast enough.  Even after he pushed stop, it took a while for the sphere to settle down and