A Haven No Longer: The First and Last King Series

By Jean Harris Anderson

This story gives opportunity to explore end-times beliefs, and, hopefully, to examine some of those previously accepted as fact. You might think such an inquest predictably boring, for over the centuries the Church has repeated unaltered doctrinal beliefs regarding eschatology. It has been at times a subject largely ignored, or left for theologians to debate. And throughout history the study has had little variation, so any different interpretation to that which has already been laid out might seem heretical.

But we are called out, for we are on the other side of this partition of Church history, awakening to what our departed brothers and sisters of this world were kept from viewing. It was all in God’s plan, but now there is a purpose for us to recognize the unveiling that has just begun. And the facts, as they now are discerned, must be identified and communicated.

And it may seem surreal to view Biblical verses regarding our future, of which there are hundreds, with our highly technical and scientific world announcements. We may see there is not much difference in this juxtaposition. MIT’s Cheetah robot, and many other advanced robots, such as the Atlas humanoid of Boston Dynamics, are of varying appearance and are partially autonomous. “We developed the first robots that ran and maneuvered like animals,” a web quote from Boston Dynamics states. “And the shapes of the locusts are like unto horses prepared unto battle; and on their heads were as it were crowns like gold, and their faces were as the faces of men.” Revelation 9:7.

What about moving sacred scriptural accounts from ancient realms of geography and human history into our vision of magnification with clarity and comprehension? Is there proof to substantiate the use of the Islamic prophet’s favorite color with that of the green alien from an unknown dimension, as portrayed in this work of Christian speculative fiction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973674795

Jean Harris Anderson

JEAN HARRIS ANDERSON, a child at heart, is described as a prophetic novelist. Cognizant of the current death culture, and knowledgeable of Divine will, she writes of a future world where there is no innocence, when there will be no children and the human race is an endangered species. Her identification with Christianity, since childhood, has influenced her outlook and endowed a specialism as visual artist and writer, and the work of Christian apologists have served as inspiration. While she’s responsive to scripture she has ease in using allegory, symbolism, and irony in this speculative fiction narrative. www.firstandlastking.com

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A HAVEN

NO LONGER

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THE FIRST AND LAST KING SERIES

BOOK III

The Journals of Davin Alastair

JEAN HARRIS ANDERSON

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Copyright © 2019 Jean Harris Anderson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7478-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7480-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7479-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019913960

WestBow Press rev. date: 9/24/2019

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

PRELIMINARY

PARTITION

DUO

ESSAY ONE - Connectedness

ESSAY TWO - Owl of Athena

ESSAY THREE - Syndicate of Evil

ESSAY FOUR - Conflict of Spirits

ESSAY FIVE - Future Life

ESSAY SIX - Retrospect

ESSAY SEVEN - Reminiscence

PARTITION

UNUS

ESSAY EIGHT - Philology – 101

ESSAY NINE - Stealth

ESSAY TEN - Theurgy

ESSAY ELEVEN - The Snail Staircase

ESSAY TWELVE - Splenic

ESSAY THIRTEEN - Ethos

ESSAY FOURTEEN - Bloodstone Revolt

ESSAY FIFTEEN - Source of Power

ESSAY SIXTEEN - Nephilim

ESSAY SEVENTEEN - Simpatico

ESSAY EIGHTEEN - Hippocrates of Hellas Graecia

ESSAY NINETEEN - Seven Bodies Terrestrial

ESSAY TWENTY - Respite and Regeneration

PARTITION

TRES

ESSAY TWENTY-ONE - Pathos

ESSAY TWENTY-TWO - Dimensionalize

ESSAY TWENTY-THREE - Commutare

ESSAY TWENTY-FOUR - Aftward

ESSAY TWENTY-FIVE - Farewell to Friends

ESSAY TWENTY-SIX - Philology – The Advanced Course

DEDICATION

To my ancestors, those who have gone before me paving the way, among them, my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Ann Pittman Brown, born June 1, 1841, a full Cherokee American Indian, whose oral lore was passed down. Her carriage, that of a chief’s offspring, was with dignity, her nature - of serenity. Married to William Brown, a brave individualist, a fur trapper, born August 24, 1829. They had five children.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The valise has become a strategic character in this series because of its important contents. Likewise, I have my own bulging saddle-bag, filled with the secular and spiritual, dedicated to traveling with this work everywhere I go. It is a lonely road, and the bag is a heavy burden. And embarking on this long voyage is fraught with the unknown, especially when it feels I’m sailing on a raft upon a deep ocean.

I wish to acknowledge the one person who lifts me up during times of discouragement, who makes that satchel feel light as a feather, and who has excavated through the mounds of paragraphs to make sure those little jewels of words are set in the perfect mountings, bringing to light their brightness. This is the person who has translated my hieroglyphics and cuneiforms into a readable and memorable account. I continue on this journey of writing with gratitude for his steering the boat with all my cargo, and I especially appreciate the blessings that have come from his companionship and friendship - my husband, Richard Godfrey.

PRELIMINARY

Whether severing or already splintered, sundering or split, results of such actions of separating carry with it a change. Cleavage is a term used in science, in particular, to denote cell-division, in embryology of a fertilized egg cell. The designation is used in the social/political stream, meaning a division, with a rather abrupt, precisely honed edge on each side. The word is also used in mineralogy in reference to splitting along a crystalline plane, resulting in a smooth surface. Use of this descriptor is carried out in theme throughout this book.

We have read in Davin Alastair’s story about counterparts – parallel worlds and dualities in life and even in identities. In this third journal the author is not proposing a balance of opposites in harmony that are complementary – such as the single image of the lion in proportion with the lamb, a symbol of submitting and entrusting, a portrayal which inspired both Mcambi and Alastair. One might also think of the Yin and Yang supportive concept, where opposites make a total wholeness, though contrary they are complementary. And there are examples in mathematical and technical terms - mutual as to be one, divisible, and interchangeable. But Alastair is not suggesting any other compatible opposites that are reciprocal.

This account of Alastair’s tells about the cavernous and bitter divide in his incompatible society. Having realized he is of one side, he recognizes what those declarations will mean for him personally. In this journal his study does not rest on his own testimony, not yet, but focuses on just what happens to others living in utter conflict by choosing to support an unpopular or oppressed side. It is about human liberty, and freedom from the power of another person or dominion attempting to enforce absolute servitude.

With this split, recognizing the inner human, not the outer appearance, two separate comraderies formed. At the same time the stratification of social classes was constricting; certainly the middle class had nearly disappeared. Two classes were emerging - the working class and the leader(s) - or the honey bees and the queen, the Serf Tribe and Superior Tribe. But there was something now to maintain this order - hornets and their dictates - with modern forms of control and information delivery. It was the way in which these new byproducts were implemented in their society that makes it a cautionary tale for us.

This brings to the forefront the subject of communication. Who was it to first utilize words? Of the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness Alastair began his study, discerning radical opposites, using terms belonging to single designations of good or evil. But just who was it first to voice these conditions? And God said, ‘Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light that it was good. And God divided the light from the darkness.’ (Genesis 1:3,4) So, it was God Who first recognized that the light was good.

The origin of language, words and their definitions and evolution, all come under the study called etymology. This journal of Alastair’s explains the importance of communication and the tragic results of promulgation based on a single global language with its altered meaning of words. In this sequel we see how easily modern science and technology can control and divide the human population using terms to fit their purpose.

Alastair didn’t promise us an easy read. In the prologue to the first book (Elizeum Striving) I warned that Without intellectual freedom we become serfs, bound to the master in control of thought. In the second of this series (Paradox, the Norm) we read of this tragic consequence in a young woman’s life. Thankfully, we had the joy to witness Alastair’s first rescue. Perhaps you will recall the name, Alastair, carries with it the meaning, protector of men. This is a big calling for one individual. But he is, figuratively speaking, serving as a representative of the One who has rescued him, and it is only with that power and might given him that Alastair can guide others.

Navigating by way of the geography Davin Alastair has set up, with the simplicity of Old Town and New City as the focus, only referencing other nations, we begin to think of his world as possibly our own, especially with its polar opposites, if only symbolic. You can be the judge, for in this issue of "The First and Last King" series you will find a map of Black Haven Harbor and its border nations, albeit a rudimentary drafting, but how delighted we are to have this to study. The period of time when the map was sketched was when sentiments for country and tradition had drawn nearly to a close, and geographical boundaries didn’t have the edge they once had. Contempt for one’s nation, demeaning its character, altering its history, had long been successfully carried out, and with the alien’s arrival it would soon become a civil duty to convert to globalism and erase national borders. Nothing could hinder human happiness under the fair auspices of an all-knowledgeable extraterrestrial, or so it was presumed.

And so we look at this map knowing that world’s existence is no longer allocated as such. But it does represent accurately the time-frame of Alastair’s story. In fact, I will show this by quoting from his diary, entered toward the very last. The heartless vivisection of our country has occurred, once the states of one union were torturously separated the former connection was gone, and the universal operations were immediately enforced. We may never return to the knowledge of our country; we no longer own our world. And many are satisfied that civilization’s dogmas, such as self-command, are dashed. Now there is a cry to take sides!

Found amongst the journals in the travel-stained valise, the unpolished diagram includes some statistical data that is quite revealing - pinpointing their world’s exact location; calculations show on an index that their planet would support life, though we don’t know which galaxy or what dimension. Signed on old, discolored paper, it states that the rendering is not to scale, but by memory, and we must presume the initials of ZK are those of Zerlina Kamuela, a notable person Davin Alastair introduces us to later in his journals. I am sure, had she known it would be reproduced, ZK would have wished for its perfection. That assessment is not to tarnish her efforts, for this is a significant element relating to their setting and situation; rather it is to acknowledge a work drafted using few implements, and unprotected from the elements in the poisoned wilderness of Hispania, while suffering under the punishment of banishment from the global empire, so we are indeed fortunate the map lasted. And from study notes attached we know the geography lesson was requested by her young companion, Morla Florian, whose contributions you will later read about.

An interesting note: on the backside of the map a lesson is attached, and it reads, "Places – they are named and renamed by those who conquer or acquire, labeled designations are not necessarily attributions of honor. We once lived in states united, but no more. Morla is curious about the art of cartographic depictions of planets and stars; she has interest in astronomical sky maps, hoping to correlate the science with the boundaries of time and eternity; she regards all that is Heavenly. Morla has asked me to locate Beulah. There is no map of the Kingdom of Beulah where Yeshua presides, our Alpha and Omega King, our salvation. In YHWH we are forever sealed. No road map, just as there is no blueprint for life, I told her, quoting from the book, Moby Dick, a line by the author Herman Melville: "It is not down in any map; true places never are."

Jean, at Hidden Post Press

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PARTITION

DUO

ESSAY ONE

CONNECTEDNESS

X-rayed, screened, identification confirmed, Dr. Esther Abrams would be allowed entry into the store any second, though that was not the physician’s intention. She tried not to notice, but security cameras were everywhere, concealed or telescopic, with evidence resulting in a person’s admission into society – or declined.

It was the roving film to twist the yarn to suit the need that was most concerning to her. But there were other means of detection, not just by data mining and biometric software, that infringed on privacy. Sampling-specimens, such as a hair strand, or fingerprints, could all bring about predictive values; these were from tests one would not be aware of having taken. Of evidence submitted track records of performance and known circuits would be included. New screening instruments few knew of were increasingly used in public places to detect an undiagnosed disease in a person free of symptoms. And then there was the presumptive identification of a transient, useful at transit terminals in and out of the city. The invasive measures were to protect all citizens and bring everyone up to the model of conscientious health. After all, this was a vigilant and orderly society.

Esther sighed, if ultrasonic waves could only beam me forward one week…for that’s all the time she had to solve…she would be able to see everything with crystal clarity then, and just maybe there would be beauty in the remains of her life - and purpose from what utterly confounded her.

It was a beautiful backdrop of crystals and gems, but it was the treasure of an antique quartz watch that caught her eye as she stood under the awning of an old jewelry storefront. Many times she had ducked under the shabby, sun-faded awning, waiting for a hard rain to pass, a few strides from the location of her favorite coffee house.

She leaned forward, nearly pressing her nose to the glass, studying the old timepiece. Generally, the old and outdated, the worn and battered, even the bruised and brokenhearted, were swept to the side. Make room for the new was the coined expression. And so went the precious, as well, thought Esther, a hanky dabbing the perspiration at her cheekbones. Her identification band recorded a sudden upswing of her emotions, a change in her heart rate.

Was it last month when there was just a silvery peach of a sun that caused her to turn on all the lights in her office - dusk at mid-morning? It could be dark as night mid-day, offering no concept of time.

Now, though the sun could be blocked out, it was humid and hot at noon and midnight. Pack your umbrella and sunscreen, winter jacket and sandals, they were warned, for no one could predict the weather. Weather reports were linked with politically-driven enticements to encourage people to work hard toward building the atmospheric dome that would eventually house their city.

The perfect ecological system proposed would save lives. Half the year was spent in light while the other half was dark. Scientific explanations became rather authoritative apocalyptic pronouncements. The global axis was continuing to shift, the magnetic fields weakening, shearing, and bringing about questions regarding the conductive materials at the globe’s inner core. A bombardment of comets and asteroids hitting their planet’s surface caused polar ice caps to melt. And new glacial areas were appearing. Indeed, the globe was entering a new geological period. Even the moon’s orbital pattern had changed. Certainly it was the universe at play - not cow manure, smoke of the barbecue pit or greenhouse gases; for decades, waste management policies appeared to be designed to bring the globe back to the stone-age with strict mandates eliminating fossil fuels and aerosol sprays. But the globe was still drifting and wobbling, rotating in a very different manner. And people were spinning just as unpredictably.

Today the heat was suffocating, the sun blinding. Warnings for people to stay indoors hadn’t been lifted. Esther didn’t have time for activity outside of work anymore, so no alerts would keep her from stepping outdoors. She was trying to flee from all that regulated her life, at least for the present day. Thinking of those free hours, she reflected on the past several months of work; how quickly they passed without solace.

As Esther pressed closer to the storefront a camera’s eye blinked, another slid down filming her. Every millimeter of her form was known; from a computer her visuals had already been checked and cross-checked, then reported to the security guard in the store.

The bars of metal framing the window obstructed her view of the minerals, but those gems, with their radiating points and bands of colors, still drew her attention to the watch. The watch was imprisoned, and the crystals served as guards, hindering its release.

In the space of a few graduated steps were displayed volcanic stones, jasper and agate. Lovely icy quartz took on the shape of chrysanthemums next to blood red and purple amethyst, sparkly black hematite, citrine and onyx - all from a distant geological time. Polished and gleaming, each had spectacular patterns of their own.

Struck by an uncut stone, Esther’s thoughts drifted. A stone was cut out without hands, which smote the image upon his feet that were of iron and clay. It was a chant from her youthful days she was now recalling, Daniel 2:34. The many religious services her family attended often followed with ritual meals, blessings of wine, braided challah. As she looked into the storefront window, the teaching from a particular ceremony came to her. So did the following verse (35) of Daniel 2: Then was the iron, the clay, the brass, the silver, and the gold, broken to pieces together, and became like the chaff of the summer threshingfloors; and the wind carried them away, that no place was found for them: and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth.

Enlightening, thought Esther, to see substantial and natural beauty. Jewelry technicians were busy making ornaments for the body - brooches, rings, bangle bracelets, and earrings - all specialized, the design and purposeful function of which she knew well. The blood-stone, a dark green variety of quartz, was utilized in the earpiece. Each contained one gem, with gold used as the supporting structure and wireless conductor.

Looking at the gems, she wondered about their authenticity. Some were mined, but a lot of them would be refined synthetics. Manufacturing pure industrial gems had been perfected.

As she glanced at the metal grates imprisoning the gems she thought of more recent lessons she’d gleaned from what was now illegal literature, from the book of Luke, chapter four, verse eighteen…He hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised…but she was conflicted with the marriage of her old religion and her new faith, and confounded with her incompatible world; she was enjoying beauty and veracity while others were experiencing the antithesis.

Delightful things in the jewelry shop, items exhibiting new designs, were central in forming new habits and behavior in a new culture. How? They were diffusers. To head off psychological trauma caused by world disasters, the precious metals and beautiful gems produced surprising benefits. A paregoric, of sorts, a new palliative that functioned as a neuroleptic for nervous tension, evenly flowed from ornament to skin. The secret pharmacia was first brewed thousands of years ago for religious purposes. All in the wearable collection would suggest a vision of an ideal society, a conceptualization of harmony, organization, sustainability, sharing core values and social justice, while offering hip trends and the proverbial chicken in every pot, with pot in every household.

Historically, ever improving communication devices were a goal; cell phones were popular until the personalized wristbands became necessary. Because of one global crisis after another everyone was eager to join in, whether it was for emergency coverage the population needed or gimmicky pseudoscience that attracted. External devices with alerts and neuroscientific control buttons, a command center one would never take off, such as the Gyre Ear Jewel, would become most desirable.

But it was all about rehabilitation of thought patterns and belief reform from the very beginning; such modern modified implants, dubbed brain orthosis, would be necessary in continuing the process of mind control technology. This was what Esther would be facing in approximately one week, should she proceed to the operating room and install the first hearing aid. Aid? It would be a replacement. Unconscious of transmitting pulses, the individual would hear a fixed tone of hypnotic quality, and a voice that would instruct, translate languages into one, and streamline everything an individual needed to know.

Fearful of the human brain’s versatility, independent thought had been deterred by new authorities trying to rebuild the world into a stronger union. But people still idealized individuality and self-preservation. How could the new leaders dissuade the individual from self-reliance? So far, immersive media had been the most successful method for re-educating the populace. Now a new device, a prototype, the Gyre Ear Jewel, was to be introduced.

People didn’t seem to mind augmentation. So, thought translation could now be accomplished by fashionable and stylish means, cheap and available, and in varying modes, worn or embedded. And suitable screening was at everyone’s disposal. The population had become dependent on enrichments and aids, relying on them to replace or alter their own body chemistry, physical anatomy, sight and hearing, emotions and imagination; the mind seemed the next logical step.

Everyone had been body-scanned and pin-pricked, and every person’s human organs were numbered. Their blood type to their DNA were in the storehouse of data, each person an eventual source or recipient of medical needs. But artificial substitutions were upgrades, for new replacement parts were waiting on the assembly lines and in the labs, all in the effort to enhance and change the human, his nature, his appearance, his function.

Esther’s appointed journey started with the Gyre Ear Jewel, an appliance which looked like an attractive earring; it was an easy step in the evolution to the newest hearing aid, integral to hearing, permanent and irreplaceable. The gadget could, indeed, bring better hearing; in fact, it would hear for its wearer, interpret and define, and with fluidity, prompt the right response to be repeated. It also translated languages, and with auditory supplements of music and revised editions of books, entertained. In the near future it was meant to be a synergetic tool between the human and celestial being.

Whether Esther refused to participate in its mastery or not, this newest and latest technology would go forward. The difference this season? It was master-minded by a syndicalism the nations had not yet seen, an undercurrent system of revolutionary force - even its participants had no idea of how dangerous its potential was.

Potential for good, at a risk. But that was the chance society took in accepting any new technology. And it appeared the AI interaction with the human was an effective combination. After all, everything was new, a new human body for the alien to endow and occupy, a New City, new hospital and research center, new work positions and new experiments - all promising a new world - so why not a new human?

The new industries were about technological revolution – revolution. A forcible rebellion, an uprising against the human, Esther now feared. Though the race of human beings had yet to discover the fact, the race was at the center of a universal war, or soon would be. Though many inventions were for military purposes, in the near future every civilian would take part in the global defense industry and would be considered part of the machine.

Automated warfare that could easily adapt its applications, such as in drone use and unmanned vehicles, was advancing quickly, jumping the boundary of reality. Experimentation was ongoing with soldier robots, ones not just remote-controlled, but with autonomous power. The robot would maneuver in a state functioning like the human soldier once did, representing him.

Artificial intelligence is not material, and potentially enormously complex. Computer programs that direct action and decision-making algorithms are fairly simple, but what about creative thought, recollection, or emotions? Could the mind of an individual human be tapped, downloaded to a computer, and uploaded to a robot? Would the robot soldier think before acting?

Today, shielded from the hot sun, Esther took the time to gaze at the old timepiece centered in the window. While sipping cool water from her bottle, she couldn’t take her eyes from the watch. Time had been the essence in her current work, now ready for installation. She had constantly fought off the oppression of schedules, demands, and expectations. But this project had been different; a sense of looking over her shoulder every minute, every step of the way, had made time stop.

Esther had no children, but she thought about new generations. Even if she had offspring, they would have been little worker-bees like her, perhaps marked by a gene in advance, just as those in the indolent, superior class would be altered in the genomic loci. Each generation from the womb produced the next generation to join in the matrix that was now set, composed of the two tribes, with pre-determined behavior, pre-ordained by science. And it was in the genes, spawning one generation after another, as if cloned to behave alike, all queens or all drones.

She was positioned in an odd and uncomfortable place in the declining middle class, belonging to neither tribe, but would gradually be incorporated into the Serf Tribe of workers. Working in the exploration of medicine, she knew there were positive outcomes, and she was aware of the motives that could be damaging to society and its people, but she couldn’t disclose anything at the moment. And right now Esther knew everyone alive was lucky to be alive, and fortunate to make what few choices there were left to decide upon. Death was too common; life – the life of every individual – was precious

Economic worries had started with the eastern S&S wars, and carried reverberations around the globe with everyone interconnected, so no one was isolated entirely. The ruling class, responsible for the formation of the Superior Tribe and the Serf Tribe, was ill-prepared to meet shortages. All were caught off guard as hatchlings, struggling with their emerging identities with tribalism, as they called it.

This new order of the haves and have-nots, with its evolving scale of manners, had no moral code. Bioethics, like the weak and delicate, had no place in such an accelerated world determined to achieve utopia. The ruling elite had committed ethical Nihilism over time and terrain - with results, in most aspects of life, turning out to be meaningless and, strangely, very backward. Such a retrograde movement was appealing to most institutions, and not so unnatural to many people; after all, there is no sense of sin or conscience in the state of innocence. Gratification of any sort was seen as acceptable and natural in this new world.

Regardless of tribe assignment, two opposing sides within each had been forming – the New Age humans following Belial and his world verses the Celestial Citizens of King Yeshua’s Kingdom. These were not the allegorical rivals seen historically – that of purity and evil; this was the actual competition of opponents in our physical realm. People were making decisions for one Lord or the other and taking sides.

The Prophet Numa’s religion, presented as a mixture of pantheistic, primitive, and of Gaia worship, saw Yeshua and his followers and their God YHWH as obstacles in the way of the globe’s perfect harmony. Numa’s appealing projection served both him and the extraterrestrial Belial with the temporary need in attracting humanity. Religions had failed to perfect the human, and these two new leaders were determined to show them the way. It would start with the reformation of society.

Oh! You startled me, Esther informed the store clerk. She saw his wedge-style shoes advance from the corner of her eye before she looked up directly at him. There was something about his immediate approach.

New silent door, uses something like ball bearing hinges, works compatibly with our computer. He grinned - like a phantom would. And she wondered…

I didn’t know the store hours, I…

Oh, don’t be silly; you weren’t rude, not one of those disaffected malcontents. Glad you are window shopping. But we’re open now. He glowered at the same time he was smiling, reminding her of the happy monster emoji; she looked for horns to protrude from his head of purple hair.

Even under strict global authority, it was difficult to curtail the ongoing hysteria; allegations of people possessed of unworldly demons, tales of the spectral and disembodied, had been dividing the population since the disappearance of millions of people, and gossip of the arrival of otherworldly aliens added tense fear. The S&S wars, with beheading of their captives, had further frightened and weakened human unity. There was no trust, even among friends and family. Alleged misbehavior or misbelief could get anyone burned at the stake.

The two serf classes were kept at a distance and were viewed as bookends by the two global rulers, a necessity for maintaining their authority, while authorizing district ruling class members of the Superior Tribe with the organization of this new empire. There was always a promised benevolent leader who campaigned on protecting their local citizens from brutal forms of vigilantism and the lunatic fringe.

Indeed, on the outskirts of society there was a strong movement of reactionaries. This third element was rising from societies’ disaffiliated, thought of as extreme. They were, one by one, hiding out, leaving, or were condemned to wander. Composed of criminals, crusaders and revolutionaries expelled from society, they were expanding in number, joining those whose quiet revolution against new invasive practices had resulted in their roaming, seeking others like-minded. This latter group was composed of those, like Professor Thomas Bloom, who had been driven away from livelihood, position, home, and friends. Many others were imprisoned for renouncing Belial and his absolute power, bestowed from the alien.

Refusal to obey the Prophet Numa’s laws resulted in banishment as well, and produced a certain yearning in many wanderers to seek the pilgrimage to Beulah. Call this underground stream what you will – hope for the brokenhearted or a place for homesick castaways. They, who were once perhaps disassociated, were uniting, even preparing to fight and die for the King of Beulah; hearing about the charitable King Yeshua, the helpless were now hopeful. Word spread, and more fled on their own seeking independence, willing to march toward this land far beyond their sight. Resistance against oppression and persecution had strengthened the brave. And it was this criminal element who understood the King would provide a pardon when He admitted all who had a contrite heart.

What Belial offered was still irresistible to most citizens of the world, those who looked at him as the embodiment of heroism, hailed him as the one the alien had bequeathed. And it did seem he was the only one, under the power of the alien, able to confer blessings and benefits to all who would bow to this bewitching figure. And there were those staunch believers who pictured him with the glistening wings of the extraterrestrial. Whatever he was, whomever he would become, Belial was unassailable. He conspicuously stood as the inevitable monarch of the age.

And discuss what you may about confrontational sympathizers on this side or the other, there was an altogether different conflict underway: the universal struggle, as Belial saw it, would not be his alone. How to unify people, in order to defend the planet against The Aggressor, was his immediate focus. The human incompatibilities now had to be overlooked in order to preserve his global identity, and fight the universal enemy. This cause would extend over all continents and unite them into one.

It would not seem like paradise at first, but when law and order were established, Belial’s kingdom would show that promise. Belial was going about the restoration of the planet and its people while preparing to defend it; so he had to colonize the planet, and he wanted his language on his global colony. Relocating all people to the cities, he could control the public byways and signs, enlighten society, and cultivate his way of communication and guidance in schools.

Urbanization would be useful to Belial and to Numa on other levels: supervision over their subordinates in matters of upholding law, easier apprehension of criminals, and providing needed services. The new version of communicating would be taught to toddlers. A simple creole language was the initial idea; a universal language would eventually be compulsory. That they could build a tower to the gods, and be gods themselves, was no longer a myth. Belial and Numa offered lasting greatness – immortality.

Esther was now aware of the scheme; yes, a systematic master plan, as she interpreted it. It was no secret to her: she was part of that dark undertaking.

While making small talk with the jewelry store clerk she silently plotted her own plan of action. Having misplaced her own heirloom watch with the office relocation, a replacement was long overdue. But she needed the day for other errands. She wrestled with her water container; no cool, crystal water left.

We’ve got water inside, the salesman informed. Ah, I see your interest. Really something, a creature captured in crystal. It’s an ammonite fossil, said to symbolize evolution. Since it has absorbed cosmic energy over all this time it heals as well.

Actually, I was looking at the antique watch, still so lovely.

Can’t tell the difference, can you? The salesman pointed toward the gems. Ah, the vibrating quartz crystal, he paused with fixed mental curiosity, has allowed all our technical advancements, balancing the memory of our data, sorting through thousands of personal phone calls, and keeping broadcast frequencies all in order. From aerospace electronics to the common timepiece, we rely on precision - and beautiful crystal gives all that to our electrical circuits - control of frequency perfectly regulated. And now, as you can see, we join the beauty and mysticism of the decorative and healing crystal with the pure crystal of engineering energy.

It’s a wonder that their use is in the preventative and curative medicines as well. An interesting and beautiful display.

A plane swooped above, flares flying; Esther jumped. Quiet that morning on the street, she was aware of sudden sounds.

Cloud seeding project – up in the sky making rain, he astutely noted. They’ll be able to control the skies, one way or another, pretty soon. They fly over every morning shooting salt pellets.

Silver iodide? Doesn’t appear to have worked.

Oh, it will, he cunningly maintained. Especially having these big clouds. Weather modification. Yep, we’re in control. But weather today isn’t conducive to stand out here gazing at the window. Come in, and try on a watch in the coolness of the store. The salesman wore a black suit and looked stuffy and uncomfortable. But his lure was like a huckster offering candy to a kid. Esther was in no mood to take her one day off to spend haggling with a tricky tradesman of wares. Was it his fine clothing she was comparing to her running attire that made her feel inept? Those silent steps, the wedge shoes, the smooth, manufactured voice, all of which added up to control, all regulated, and not quite natural and true.

Mustn’t. Not today. She let out a smirk, privy to something he was not. She knew she would return. But when she was ready.

Why not? You’ve been approved for entry. His eyebrows lifted with his question.

Not a subject of surveillance? She grinned.

Isn’t everyone? Supervision is good. He smiled.

Spying, bugging?

Prevention. Like preventative medicine, Doctor…uh, Abrams. Is that right?

If your informant says so, guess that’s correct. She smirked.

He parted the door. With a cool attractive wave, he said, Until they equalize the temperature, we’ll stand out here and roast.

Equalize? You jest? Don’t tell me the city rulers have found one more way to moderate our lives? A climate control agency already limits heating and cooling in all buildings. As soon as she responded to his solicitude she regrettably knew she was trapped. She also realized every word she stated was recorded.

The plan is to ‘tent’ the city. It’s all about geoengineering now. Yep, we can influence the stratosphere. Yes, siree. Science will be controlling weather, pretty much everything from the ground up. From morning until night our temperatures can swing as much as a hundred degrees anymore; that’s not normal for here, not for a coastal town. More high desert temps.

Certainly experiencing an inversion right now; cooler in the valley. Dry since the water has receded, no morning beach fog. Many trees have died, so shade is minimal. You say a tent - really?

The Peopleton Project. Yes – tenting is possible because we have no real high rises. Think of it as an insular dome, I mean insulated. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck. Like those little glass terrariums, succulents within. Esther smiled. So we can grow food again.

Creating a new, concentrated biosphere, a total ecological system of its own…

Needed with this global destabilization. He wiped sweat from his face, which had a green cast. But eventually the physical structure will be replaced with something like an invisible electric fence overhead that’s shaped like a bowl, a colander! It will filter waves to protect us – hopefully from this hot sun, real soon.

A type of electromagnetic spectrum? Esther envisioned an amniotic membrane over their city - capturing dew, rain, and vapor from the fog, filling the sac with water, protecting those in the cavity with a cushion from outer-space attacks and natural disasters. Tone down the imagination, thought Esther, including little, green men.

Yes, a sphere - invisible, but filtering waves in and out. Light in, preventing radiation, capable of fine tuning radio waves and radar.

Esther now imagined the globe hanging in the universe with impenetrable circuitry covering it, pressing down on all life. It was already encased in a mesh of wireless applications.

Nature had been a buddy for decades – hug the tree, and all that; then nature was nothing more than a political pawn. Somewhere between the two, humans wanted to protect it. But nature had become a formidable foe. And now the possibilities of human powers to dictate what the physical world should be like - Mother Creature losing her powers over the human - who would have thought? It would be a universal battle, according to Numa and Belial, not just their natural world turning against itself. Esther faltered for a moment with the thought of her world taking its own life, duplicating what the human was doing in its own suicide.

Keeping the temp controlled, a new cybernetics system that will predetermine by way of knowing our comfort level, one that will govern us.

A perfect navigator at a time when the loss of moorings is greatest, she said in jest. Just what we need. Some think we’re too dependent already.

"What will come next to the city? Total protection! Stone buildings, stone walkways, and fortress walls, all to protect from another tsunami, no fuel such as brush and trees to burn, like what happened in Hispania. We’ll not have a worry."

We’ll see. I really must run. She pointed to her attire and huffed. You’re the owner?

More of an agent, he announced, his eyes glancing down to what she was pointing out. We’re a government agency now. The name on the tag was the same as the gold print on the glass door.

Ah. Well, nice chatting. She memorized his name and worker’s number. He wasn’t so bad, she tried to convince herself, just a part of a constellation of incidental, compatible agencies bonded in the effort to center on the potential of a celestial kingdom.

Oh! Before we part - that watch you were admiring…

She clutched her wrist, she turned back, and hung on for him to finish with that smooth, bewitching claim of promise. She bit her lower lip and chuckled at herself. Typical salesman, hook a fish, draw it in. One hundred degrees – I’ll outlast the black suit. Okay; one minute run-down.

He cleared his voice and began, Crystal! There’s always a new buzzword. Quartz crystals, to be exact. We rely on them for keeping precise time, from the old microprocessors, when we first employed quartz, to our new phenoms of security sensors, to simple applications using them in jewelry.

The diamond placed in the salesman’s lateral incisor gave that sparkling, gleaming just brushed smile as in a toothpaste commercial. But it was a distraction, and so were the wedge shoes as she looked down, alternating from a triangular gaze - of his shoes, to the toothy smile, and back to the watch.

And, of course, in the relaxation and healing arts, she rang out in participation.

That watch you admire has a quartz crystal. So few examples like this from yesteryear; so many destroyed or eliminated, parts removed, left to the natural elements to perish; the watch is named after the location in which it was constructed, ‘Lakeside End.’ Originally from a lake district of a city north of here, abandoned, no longer in existence, but many went there seeking their destiny. She stopped marking time with the last transfer of ownership. Sadly, she is no longer working as intended. A poor, old relic, out of date, past her prime.

She? You reference the watch as a great lady who had not been cared for properly, landing in a few last hands, some loving her, others using her only for utilitarian purposes, other custodians just to show off her fine workmanship. And she has a name, too. Why would anyone let something so fine slip through their fingers? Unless it was stolen, she assumed.

Oh, but such rare possessions always take maintenance and upkeep – those costs are a factor, and then there is the price of the watch itself. Is it all worth it? And soon come new models.

And replacements. It obviously has value to this store. She wondered just why? I’d like to inspect the watch up close. May I?

By all means; won’t you come in?

While he fetched the timepiece Esther felt a clamminess from the air-conditioning; she looked up at a vent; there was a trickle of rusty water from the metal frame. To the side was a shelf of large time-measuring instruments. Several hourglasses stood erect, each glass bulb nearly half filled with mercury, or sand. She was aware of a woman’s examining eyes.

The large hour glass takes an hour for the sand to shift to the bottom, she heard the voice. We had one that had moon dust in it; the contents took twelve hours to drift from top to bottom. The woman, who was employed for watch repair, spoke with a haunting voice, more like the vestige of a memory. Her eyes were ghost gray, caused by the reflection, for her image in a mirror was what Esther saw. Her figure was shaped as seductively as the hour glass, and her duty was intent in keeping Esther entertained while the salesman moved some of the crystals to get to the watch.

Moon dust? You don’t say?

Hours are like the seasons. We used to turn them, timely. We don’t even get up there to dust anymore. Don’t know the seasons from day to day either, do we?

Stardust - Esther thought of twinkling stars, the star of her ancestors, when suddenly she was jolted from her reverie. Interference from another channel, like two radios going at once, Esther heard cross-talking from several women on their mobile phones, each in conversation. They entered the store, each person identified and approved for entry. The earpieces had immediate appeal.

And then there are other timepieces, so to speak, that are of interest to some, the employee stated, trying to draw Esther’s attention. Just look at the collection!

That antique mechanism on the upper shelf, the one that is marked with four sections – what is that?

An Antikythera analogue, used in astronomy and astrology. A mystery. Think of it as the very first computer. An astrophysicist was studying it, thinks it can still predict the astronomical future.

It looks very plain, and very old, Esther said, a little impatient in waiting.

Thousands of years old, over sixty gears, with many other dials. Should belong in a temple, that astrophysicist has concluded. There’s some linguistic specialists looking at it now, trying to analyze it in terms of…

Here we are. The salesman gleefully, yet carefully, placed the timepiece on top of a bed of velvet. May I present the watch? Isn’t she a grand lady?

So many memories in her, thought Esther, of time and eternity, recognizing the old quartz watch, expertly crafted in a previous era by artisans to exacting standards, unique in form and function, with no other like her, a keeper of time and yet timeless in beauty. Esther extended her left wrist.

Oh, we are only going to gaze at her, the salesman warned. Then from out of the case he drew a watch, placing it alongside the antique. Modern, internal mechanisms were housed within it, though its appearance was very similar to the old model. Esther declined the offer of her slender arm.

May I at least handle the old watch? Esther was aware of his glaring eyes as she examined the piece, as if she knew the mechanism before examination, the face, bezel, the quartz movement, functions, hands of time, down to the eighteen-carat buckle and personal inscription on the back.

If you like her, you’ll love the new version, the salesman proudly stated, and with your credentials you may garner the gold or platinum models, and of course, diamonds, or other gems could be added. A thorough presentation of the new watch was made; it popped open with petals, like a poppy, each featuring keys for speakers, navigation, calendar, message notifications and phone.

But alas, he could not persuade Esther. When suddenly she gazed toward the Gyre Ear Jewel, the salesman seemed flummoxed in reconciling her interest in the women’s conversation over the ear jewel. True, the chatter was distracting, even he had to admit.

As perspiration gathered on Esther’s forehead, she reminded herself to keep focused. The watch discovery had brought her discomfort, and it wasn’t much cooler indoors. Black Haven’s oil reserves were nearly depleted, though their coal mines and oil derricks were close by – in the high desert at the foot of the Black Mountains. Most of them remained out of service. Their country had been caught off guard, like much of the world, when the main oil-producer of the world, Iran, had quadrupled the barrel cost from its peak the prior year, even withdrawing sales to some. Belial was doing what he could in guaranteeing a portion of their allotment. But already the lack of energy had caused massive shut-downs, from production of agriculture to impacting transportation. She wondered that any new construction could take place without power, and now scoffed at thinking of a shield over their city.

The female jeweler shifted from crooning softly over the feats of the ear piece devises to crying out to the ladies; in order to converse, it necessitated ending their calls. They then joined with the jeweler, all singing the praises of the earpiece with excitement. Gyre Ear Jewel!

The facets cut in the gemstone reflect the power, an exuberant customer said.

Esther should have herself been celebrating with the wearing of the first one, having concluded her consultation on the Gyre Ear project, but she was now selective in what her enthusiasm and expenditure of energy would be for.

Assume you ladies are over sixteen? They all laughed with the jeweler.

Then Esther refocused her attention to the antique watch. It has quite a history, but she appears to have been stolen - look at the sudden break in the back at the clasp, a clip or splice, as if taken from the rightful owner in sleep, Esther said. Two cuts are quite obvious. And…the inscription is missing, scratched out.

Come, come, now; let’s not be so melodramatic. Look at all that has come from that grand old lady. Here, look at all her daughter watches. The salesman pulled out a presentation tray with more look-alike watches, all very similar to the antique in appearance. There was simply no comparison between the facsimiles and the authentic watch; it was a lustrous original. Those who long ago had made the original had a different purpose than what the new ones were designed for. Such advancements – able to attract a certain type in this hip neighborhood.

Yes, they’ll fulfill the needs of others. But the watches are not identical to her.

"You don’t want the old model."

Actually, I do.

The original is only the prototype; why, I don’t know if we can sell her, as she has outlived her function. She is here just to catch the eye, to show the improvements of the new to that of the old. Her off-springs have such precision…

Precision. The word reminded her of the argument she had with the mastermind, Mr. Butterby, of the new watches, ear pods, and implants. They were communicators for the benefit of teaching the one universal language the alien was establishing. She remembered the scenario:

Esther recalled that first real glimpse of Mr. Butterby. He was short in stature, and his white tunic sparked her imagination, for his figure gave him a bulbous appearance of garlic or onion. The drawstrings from his loose-fitting pants dangled at his ankles, tangling with strings of ornaments from his long tunic, while the fringe from the wide cloth band at his hips added to the number of tentacles used for his mobility. His body seemed to be supported by this gangly system. Was it of roots, tubes, cords and plugs that swished at his feet like the fringe of a skirt? There was something about him suggesting a work in progress, like an unglazed clay jug. He appeared to be a product made by technical inventors with his ceramic-looking face, one she now envisioned as a computer screen. Mr. Butterby was, in fact, a mixture of human and machine, but at the time she didn’t recognize this, only his perfect elocution.

It was the cognitive modality Butterby proposed, designed to transform the way people navigate in their individual communication, that fascinated her as a scientist. It was by assignment, he had said, that she was selected, because of her medical expertise, though he focused on the great honor it would bring her to participate in creating a tiny prosthetic, one that would prove to be the highest human intellectual achievement for humankind. What she knew now was what he stated at the very beginning: it would be a new application in the science of language and communication. What he didn’t admit was the intentional outcome - cybernetics used to control how and what people think.

Precision in what you say, what precise words one writes, are so important.

But simplicity… Butterby had argued.

You lose the meaning and your power if you choose lesser words, she had countered.

"But to be quick and succinct, like our mobiles, sharing simply with others on our favored social medias - that’s what simple people want."

Precision in written and spoken communication is too important to forfeit out of sheer laziness. It is the system we use, allowing us to understand and to be free agents. It is not arbitrary, for words are subject to definition.

"Accuracy, definition – those are certainties from the past, when your world was seen as flat, Dr.Abrams. All of what we think we know - is changing, changing…"

A sudden outburst of voices clamoring at the door of the jewelry store caused Esther to turn sharply. The bloodstone - there it is. I saw it on the cover of my fashion magazine, shouted a young woman.

One by one they passed through a scanner, each entering the store as they gained approval. Three, now five customers, and all eager to add their own zeal of approval.

The bloodstone – green, liquid blood – you can see it’s movement, just like Absinthe. Others joined in the commotion.

But Esther looked back at the antique watch, and she lifted her eyes, and with all seriousness announced her intentions. I have the purchasing power to redeem her.

The clerk shifted nervously, as if he’d been caught in a lie. If she had the rightful and holy law backing her up, as one of the last possessing her, she could claim it as her inheritance, wanting that timepiece to be retrieved and revived, not just for herself, but for all those who had loved her first. And perhaps, with all divulged records, he knew of her former association.

You think someone still knows how to tinker with her, to patch her up, bring all the pieces and parts into cohesion? There would be a cost…, he slyly confided. The new ones are underwritten by the global bank; they are actually a steal. Why would you want the original when the new models are vast improvements? With warrantees, individualized programs with each, connecting with others…

Yes; I’m well aware of the government involvement…the advantages offered. And the eventual mandates, she reflected. She was also aware that the new models would be outmoded within the year.

"There’ll be no buyer’s remorse with these new, fully insured watches. I know, I know…you are interested, yes, in this one only, yes, this old one. This is highly unusual, your proposal - an archaic way of purchasing, by redemption means. We have converged to a different monetary system, and governing trustee. But I gather you are at a level in ecclesiastical authority that still allow purchase by archaic transaction. It appears this piece of property was not managed or handed down properly under the new system; it is certain the original bill of sale is lost, along with many of the historical archives, when her use was declared null and void."

I appreciate your admission.

From that point the jeweler evaded her direct questions, continuing to try to interest her in other pieces. But the old piece…no chat room access, no instant messaging directly from Belial, now required by consumer law, he miserably concluded.

Esther detested the voice of Belial, and even more so his messages. She struggled to understand her hatred for him, for there had been no others she felt such utter disgust. It wasn’t the fact that he alone had eliminated the need for freedom of the press. It wasn’t even the subservience she was made to feel, as that could be under any Green Lucifer. Such deceiving, pompous leaders had been around from the time of Zeus, with the will to oppress people under the crush of political and religious rule.

Belial had done what no other had: he had fostered the idea of dividing the world population into two parts. He and his followers were known as the followers of the mystical dark matter, and as in the universe, the dark could not interact with the light, (or other electromagnetic radiation) and dark matter emits no light. One needs to know a bit of astronomical science to perceive this importance –