The Evolution of HumanMind

By Hue s MAIA

"If as one people speaking the same language…then nothing…shall be impossible…for them."

 

Deep within the recesses of the collective human conscience, a long-forgotten memory lies dormant. The memory is of a momentous event; a curse that dramatically altered the course of human history. On the Plains of Ancient Sumer, at the Tower of Babel, a mysterious force upended human achievement and set in motion everything we've believed about ourselves since: who we are, where we come from and, perhaps most important, where we're heading.

 

In "The Evolution of HumanMind," this ancient curse, and its detrimental effect, is profoundly reversed by the discovery of a seemingly insignificant man, Malawi Nigano, of the Batanga tribe in West Africa. Now, he and his people, and the whole human race, stand at the threshold of unimaginable advancement and stunning achievement.

 

Half a world away, however, news has reached the ears of Randall Montrose, a power-hungry ogre of a man bent on personal enrichment and worldwide domination. Randall, and his secret contacts at the CIA, will stop at nothing to quash this monumental discovery and its potential to lift humanity out of the doldrums.  

 

With the aid of its otherworldly brethren, perhaps humanity will indeed rise above its lowly station and claim its rightful position on Earth, and in the cosmos.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hue s MAIA
• Release date: Apr 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201667290

Hue s MAIA

Hue S. MAIA is an pen name I've adopted, intended to elicit a simple question in my readers' minds. Who is MAIA?  MAIA, My All In All, is a acronym I’ve created in an attempt to make sense of two overriding questions in life: “Who, or what, created this world and who, or what, orchestrates existence as I experience it?” These questions, and others like them, have been at the forefront of my mind for as long as I can remember. In fact, one of my earliest recollections is of a time when I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. I was lying in the grass, staring at the sky while trying to formulate a reason for my existence. Obviously, I never arrived at a definitive answer. But it sure was intriguing, even at that age, to postulate a theory or two. I’ve never stopped searching for the answer. Questions such as these have quietly, and not so quietly, driven me along an everchanging path of discovery. They have spurred complementary questions such as: Is this world real? Or, perhaps it’s an illusion? What is the soul and what’s its purpose? Why is their so much suffering on this planet? Are there places in the universe where suffering is not central to existence? Do we live just one lifetime? Questions without definitive answers. That’s what I’ve ultimately come to discover. So, the central theme of my writing centers around these questions. I derive incredible satisfaction from creating limitless worlds, limitless love, limitless possibility. I hope you, too, experience the joy of setting your mind free and immersing yourself in the hope of something better… Hue s MAIA  

Book preview

INTRODUCTION: YOU CAN COUNT ON ME

W hat would you have me do, my friend?

Samantha’s voice rang out loud and clear, interrupting the silence of the Cavanaugh’s master bedroom. She was talking in her sleep again.

I understand, Nioleeth. You can count on me. 

Jacob, a notoriously light sleeper and Samantha’s husband of twenty-two years, was wrested from sleep by her seemingly incoherent conversation...again. Being careful not to disturb Samantha, Jacob quietly sat up, blinked his eyes a few times and glanced at the clock sitting on his bedside table. Its blurry display conveyed the sad fact: it was 1:11 in the morning and Jacob was awake...yet again. This made the fourth time in as many nights that Samantha had engaged in nighttime conversation. Each took place at precisely the same time: 1:11, a fact not lost on Jacob. Not wanting to alarm his wife, Jacob had simply ignored Samantha’s bewildering conversations, believing them to be of no real consequence and thinking that they would soon pass. Besides, Samantha had yet to make mention of the matter and didn’t seem adversely affected upon waking. No need to concern her, Jacob reasoned. 

Near as he could tell, Samantha had been conversing with someone seemingly of foreign descent, for Jacob was unfamiliar with the odd names and places she frequently spoke of. Nioleeth had been a prominent figure in Samantha’s conversations and she seemed especially beholden to this individual which, admittedly, bothered Jacob a little.   

What are you showing me? Samantha asked, her voice tinged with anxiety. 

Fully awake and on high alert, Jacob’s attention was centered on Samantha when he noticed a sudden change in her countenance. Her breathing had quickly accelerated, a fact made evident by the glow of her alarm clock, which shined softly on his wife’s face. She also began tossing and turning under the covers when, suddenly, Samantha violently twitched her left leg, inadvertently kicking Jacob in the process.

Noooo! No! This can’t be happening... Samantha cried out in anguish.       

Jacob had heard enough. He was about to wake Samantha when she suddenly sat upright, with a jolt, as if shot out of a cannon. Heart racing, pulse pounding, she looked at Jacob with fear-laden, tear-filled eyes.   

What’s...goin’ on? she asked, in between gasps of breath. 

I have no idea, Sam; no idea at all. But it’s freaking me out, I’ll tell you that much.

Sitting silently, Samantha offered no reply; she simply stared at Jacob through dazed and bewildered eyes. The look on Samantha’s face told Jacob all he needed to know. She was as perplexed by the bizarre incident as he was.   

Getting hold of himself, Jacob softly asked, Do you remember anything, sweetheart?  

Letting out a prolonged sigh, while wiping the tears that had collected on her cheeks, Samantha answered in a voice barely above a whisper:

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Jacob didn’t know what to think, for he had never experienced anything like this before. And despite his growing uncertainty, he tried to provide a reassuring response for his beleaguered wife.  

Just a weird dream, Sam. That’s all; a weird dream, Jacob said, in a reassuring voice.

Yeah, you’re probably right.

Leaning towards Samantha, Jacob put his arms around his wife, and held her tightly in his embrace.

Everything’s all right now, honey. Let’s go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?

Sure, Jake. Thanks honey. 

After giving Samantha a peck on the cheek, Jacob let her go and lay back down. Though attempting to console his wife, Jacob was utterly confused and unsure of what had happened. Something was incredibly amiss, that was for certain, and as much as he tried convincing himself otherwise, Jacob knew better. As did Samantha.

PART 1:

CURIOUS CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1: TITANS OF THE PLANET

H eaven help us if anyone discovers our plan, Randall. 

I wouldn’t worry about that, John. We have it all under control.

Randall’s face was curiously illuminated by a light, which emanated from a small lamp, on a table where the two men sat. The light draped across half of Randall’s face, leaving the other half nestled in darkness. 

Just think, my friend; we’ll be titans of the planet, gods amongst the people. Can you even imagine the possibilities? 

A lifelong friend of Randall’s, John Studdeville was also a longtime business partner. Together, they had built one of the most prestigious companies in the world, The Synergy Corporation. A willing, albeit hesitant accomplice in the plan, John had reservations and fears about its ultimate outcome. 

Of course, Randall. I just hope those involved carry out their duties as planned...and do it quickly. Otherwise, we could easily be discovered, especially with this new documentary playing. Aren’t you the least bit concerned?

As light and darkness continued to play across the contour of Randall’s face, he peered deeply into John’s eyes. Holding his friend’s gaze for a few purposeful moments, Randall hoped to inspire John with the forcefulness of his conviction. 

Do you sense that I’m concerned? Is there anything in my demeanor that remotely suggests I have reservations? If there’s one thing you should know about me, John, after all these years, it’s this: I always get what I want. Always. 

John cleared his throat and nervously fidgeted in his seat. Forcing himself to ignore Randall’s egotistical comment, he continued his line of questioning. 

Have you spoken with McMasters lately?

I have. He’s pleased with the progress thus far and sees no reason to alter the plan. So, we’re still on track. 

As Randall continued his obnoxious stare, John looked away and silently processed the information. Still feeling rather concerned, he pressed the issue further. 

I take it he will intervene, though, if he finds it necessary; right? He’ll see to the issues personally; is that what you’re saying, Randall?

The question hung in the air, like a plume of smoke wafting through space. and added to the tension already present. Deliberately stalling, Randall’s silence only prolonged John’s anxiety.  

I have yet to ask him directly, if that’s what you’re wondering. But I’m certain he’ll do whatever is necessary, should it come to that. Look John, McMasters has a vested interest in our plan, and I don’t envision him falling short of the objective. So, you needn’t worry; all will go accordingly. Before long, we will create the world we have envisioned. Are you still with me?

Yes, you know that I am, Randall. 

Good! No more doubts, John. Let’s just get on with it.   

Signaling that their conversation was over, Randall quickly stood and bid John good-bye.   

We’ll reconvene in about a week, to reassess the progress. Until then, I’ll see you around the office.

Sounds good, Randall.   

As the men parted company, their outlooks starkly contrasted. Randall was irrefutably confident but John, though putting on an air of conviction, struggled immensely with troubling doubt and fearful anxiety. Unbeknownst to John, the weeks ahead would supremely test his allegiance to the epic plan Randall had concocted. And to Randall, himself. 

CHAPTER 2: WHAT OF EARTH’S PEOPLE?

W hat of Earth’s people ?

Hopeful. Cautiously optimistic. Unified periphery. 

Kandali, the Anunnaki prince, and his ambassador to Earth, Nioleeth, were engaging in projected conversation. Both had been monitoring the activity upon their sister planet for quite some time and were meeting to discuss humanity’s present condition. 

Possibility of acceptance? Kandali asked. 

Probable. 

What of discovery? 

Beginning developments. Power base aware. Ultimate viability in question. 

The Anunnaki had resolved, while discussing business matters, to cut through the clutter of unnecessary conversation and quickly arrive at truth. Thus, as Kandali and Nioleeth spoke of the planet they had been overseeing for the greater part of two millennia, they swiftly pondered the possibility of Earth’s cosmological advancement. 

Assistance needed? Kandali projected. 

Nioleeth paused for a moment.

Wise to give, he replied. 

Forms? Kandali asked. 

Foremost; disclosure. Secondary; continued protection. 

Kandali did not respond but, instead, carefully considered the suggestion. 

First form questionable. Timing an issue. Humanity unprepared. However; soon. Secondary form, continuous. Paramount to advancement.

Nioleeth accepted his superior’s reply with a jubilant smile, knowing the people of Earth would soon experience what they had speculated about for centuries. 

Final consideration?

Kandali nodded in assent. 

"What of Humanity’s Hope?"   

Kandali paused for a moment. 

Disruptive. Dark. Doomed.

It was the answer Nioleeth expected.   

With matters completed, the Anunnaki turned off theie projection screens, sat back in the silky confines of their respective relaxation modules, and thoroughly absorbed the soothing energy of the sun. Though still much to accomplish, they fervently believed in the emergence of humanity’s bright future and looked forward to its arrival.    

CHAPTER 3: WHATEVER IS NECESSARY

I take it you’ve seen the Jackson documentary?

Yeah, I have, Mac replied, with a sigh of resignation.

Why so long in the face, Mac? This doesn’t change a thing. 

Randall had called this meeting to expressly deal with the inevitable fallout from the Jackson documentary, which had recently aired on the BBC. 

Surely you don’t believe we can follow through with the plan now, do you? 

Oh, come on Mac! How does this change our plan, really? So, a few people see the documentary...so what. 

Mac stood unconvinced. Having been partners for only a few months, he wasn’t entirely certain of Randall’s intestinal fortitude and, as such, had reservations about the plan. Before moving forward, Mac wanted reassurance that Randall was in it for the long run and would do whatever necessary to ensure their collective success.

Listen, Randall, I’ve been involved in some pretty crazy shit in my time. I’ve even helped topple a few governments, but what we’re planning is beyond anything I could even begin to imagine. All I want to know is this: are you, and the rest of your group, prepared to see our plan through? I mean, you won’t fold when the inevitable shit hits the fan, will you?

Saying nothing, Randall walked slowly and deliberately toward his subordinate, stopping only a foot in front of Mac. While peering deeply into Mac’s eyes, and holding his undivided attention, Randall was unequivocally in command as an historic moment was about to take place. 

Don’t ever question my resolve again; do you understand? Never again.

Shocked by Randall’s words and equally stunned by his steely demeanor, Mac was momentarily dazed. Very few had ever spoken to Mac this way and, as he stood, nose-to-nose, with his newfound partner, Mac had to admit he was duly impressed. 

Okay, then. What do you propose we do now? Mac asked. 

Whatever is necessary, Mac. I mean that. Whatever is necessary. 

And, for the next half hour, the two re-fashioned what they believed to be a workable solution to ensure the success of their epic plan. Together, they would endeavor to achieve what had never been accomplished in human history: shape the world as they saw fit.

CHAPTER 4: FEAR OF THE CHANGE

D o you have the latest figures?

Agent Mitchell asked the question with a noticeable air of agitation. 

Well, Jim, I’ve got the figures but I’m not entirely certain of their meaning. 

What the hell are you talking about, Quentin? I thought you said you were close to figuring this thing out?

Dr. Quentin Anderson had grown accustomed to Agent Mitchell’s hostility. Since the start of The Problem, as it had become known amongst those in the office, Agent Mitchell’s demeanor had changed considerably, from one of begrudging respect to undisguised contempt. 

Jim Mitchell had been with the Central Intelligence Agency for more than two decades when The Problem first surfaced. A veteran of numerous national security emergencies and undercover incursions, Agent Mitchell had weathered the storms of the intelligence business and had been promoted several times, to his present position of Coordinating Field Agent. Never one to mask his anger, Jim’s face would progressively redden until he blew, earning him the unaffectionate nickname, Ole’ Smokestack. His large body, booming voice and overbearing persona combined to create a monstrous ogre. 

"Yes, I did, but it is incredibly difficult to decipher the meaning when you can’t even get close, for fear of The Change," Dr. Anderson replied, readying himself for the barrage of insults that was sure to follow.

Agent Mitchell surprised the doctor by taking a moment of contemplation before offering his response. 

"I understand your dilemma, Quentin, but we haven’t much time. The Problem is getting out of control. The world is beginning to take notice, and we’ve already lost three of our best personnel to The Change. We simply can’t afford to lose any more time or personnel. What about the shield; have you made any progress on it?" 

I believe so. The latest results look promising and the protective barrier is coming along. I’m confident we’ll have a working prototype ready to be field tested within a week or two. 

A smile began to form on Agent Mitchell’s face. 

That’s great, Quentin. That’s really great! The sooner the shield is up and running, the sooner we head this thing off and gain control. And the sooner the brass stops riding my ass. 

Dr. Anderson was relieved at Agent Mitchell’s sudden change of demeanor. Recently replacing his good friend and mentor, Dr. Johnson, who had succumbed to The Change, Dr. Anderson had yet to fully acclimate to the pressure-filled atmosphere of high-stakes intelligence operations. 

You let me know just as soon as it’s ready, you hear? Agent Mitchell asked, in his usual demanding way.

You know I will, Jim. 

Good! Now let’s go see how our subject is doing.

PART 2:

PIETRE’S TORMENT

CHAPTER 5: HIS NAME IS PIETRE

Agent Mitchell motioned for Dr. Anderson to follow as he began walking out of the lab. Heading downstairs, to the holding area, Dr. Anderson knew what was coming and attempted to steel his frazzled nerves. He would need every bit of courage to withstand the trauma to come. 

Exiting the stairwell and turning a corner, they saw a young man tasked with guarding the holding area. 

Hey there, soldier; everything all-right? Agent Mitchell asked the uniform-clad young man standing at attention. 

Yes, sir. All is well. 

Good. That’s what I like to hear. You have your key? 

Yes, sir. 

Unlocking the door, the soldier stepped aside, allowing the men passage into the cold, drab-looking entryway. Agent Mitchell walked to the retina scanner on the wall and, positioning his face over the scanner port, awaited the authorizing confirmation. After hearing the familiar sound of authorization, the sealed inner door opened, allowing access to this most unusual room. 

Let’s see how our subject is behaving today, shall we doctor? Agent Mitchell asked, as a crooked smile appeared on his weathered face. 

Rounding a corner, they came upon Dr. Benjamin, seated on a chair, in front of a bank of television monitors and what looked to be a massive control board, with innumerable buttons and switches. 

Any progress made with PF-1 today, Dr. Benjamin?

I’m afraid not, Jim. He exhibits absolutely no sign of negative response to exterior stimuli, no matter the intensity or duration. The charts are over here, if you’d like to take a look. 

Agent Mitchell ambled over to view the file Dr. Benjamin was holding. 

Damn! I can’t believe this. It’s like he’s immune to the testing, completely unfazed by the stimuli. I assume he exhibits signs of pain though, right?

Dr. Benjamin did not answer but simply pointed to the area of the chart where that information was kept. 

"So, he does respond to stimuli?"

Yes, I’m afraid so. He experiences elevated pain thresholds, but the associated signs of anger, rage, or revenge are completely unmanifested. I’ve never seen anything like this. 

Nervous as ever, Dr. Anderson bit the inner part of his lip, cleared his throat and spoke up. 

Jim, we’ve been testing for weeks now. You’ve seen the results. There seems to be no indication of negative response to the stimuli. So...is there a point to further testing? 

What, are you growing soft on me, Quentin? Don’t you realize what’ll happen if we fail to discover what’s affecting these people? Yes, the testing will most definitely continue, Agent Mitchell replied, while motioning for Dr. Benjamin to commence another round of testing.

Jim, the subject endured a testing regimen less than an hour ago. It’s not in the protocol to exceed the frequency of stimuli beyond the prescribed amount. I cannot do this right now. 

Oh, yes you will, doctor. You seem to forget; I’m in charge of this operation and I’m ordering you to commence another round, increasing the intensity of the stimulus. Do you understand?

"Jim, I understand. However, you do realize this is a fellow human being, don’t you? And what we’re doing is tantamount to torture. I mean, you don’t even know his name, for Christ’s sake!"

What the hell do I care, Raymond? PF-1, and his whole fuckin’ tribe, is about to unleash a power upon the world that’ll turn us all into peace-loving, communal rats. Is that what you want, doctor? Is that how you want to live? And, for fuck’s sake, what does it matter if I know his damn name?! 

Dr. Benjamin breathed a sigh of resignation and began preparing for yet another round of what amounted to torture on an innocent human being.

Well, just so you know, Jim; his name is Pietre...Pietre Nigano. 

Agent Mitchell said nothing as Pietre’s name echoed throughout the barren room. 

"What level of stimuli do you order me to afflict Pietre with, Agent Mitchell?"

Maximum level. 

Dr. Benjamin sat silent, allowing Agent Mitchell’s angry command to thunder throughout the space they occupied.

"You realize the risk of this level, don’t you? If Pietre cannot bear the stimuli, then we have affectively negated our ability to test any further, absent another