Elongated crystals emerged from the cave walls and pointed into the vault. The hum of electromagnetic waves grew strong, as an energetic field grew between the crystals, running through and around the miracles and objects gathered.
The energy hummed along, obeying its natures and flowing through the circuitry of crystals, metals, intention and age. It carried with it the information of each artifact, converted to light and stored in the building signal. As it wound through the vault it grew in intensity, gathering data and strength.
As I watched, each of the objects was seemingly cataloged, and the tone of the energy changed with each addition. The vault began to reveal it’s true nature as the crystalline web in the walls began to glow.
The geology wasn’t lost on me--quartz, iron, silicate--every element was present to create a kind of electromagnetic storage device, and the revolving energy that was sparked by the beings was starting to hum through the vast array of objects. It was reading, and recording, each object. In addition to the direct components, it gained all the memories of the ages stored in each object. One by one the immense picture of history on earth was formed and recorded into this enormous natural databank.
The history of Earth--the true history without political distortion--was all around me. I could feel the ancient tides, the horrible warfare, the spiritual heights. I saw that the energy had wound through me, collecting me into this planetary and galactic history.
Intense, elated, but exceedingly calm, I began retracing my careful steps through the vault. It would not do to tip over a statue or knock over an urn. I simply wished to withdraw from the chamber and allow the recording to go on unimpeded.
Besides, the effect of learning one’s true place in the great scheme, well let’s just say it is humbling and leave it at that.
I made my way back out of the vault, and stopping at the portal, I pulled down the gypsum panel that formed the seal. It must have been electromagnetic, as suddenly the overwhelming hum was reduced to a dull vibration.
I walked back through the winding gut of the slot canyon on legs that threatened mutiny. As I approached the mouth, the warm and familiar glare of dawn was visible on the redrock rims. I quickened my painful stride, limping faster to the opening.
The warmth reached me first, and it was like coming home. It was mother and her homemade bread, all safe and buttery smooth. As I neared the opening my heart swelled, and I shed a tear. Exhausted, amazed, transformed, I emerged from the shadowy slot canyon into the full bright of the morning sun.
But it was not the sun, and it was not the day.
Before me was that sizzling glass and gold sphere, that world in itself of energy and light. It had returned, and positioned itself at the canyon rim so I would walk right to it.
It was close enough to shake my clothing, to vibrate the threads or the atoms in the threads, just from its throbbing force.
As I watched the massive Mer-Ka-Ba spin, I saw an aperture open in the energy shell around it. It sparkled open, dripping out sizzling globs of glass and gold.
It hovered in place, door open, its invitation palpable in the desert, pre-dawn dark.
I know that I could have walked across the flat for days, and the sun would never have fully risen, remaining instead just shy of the horizon. I had slipped somehow just beyond the place where the gears of time get their grip. This was a world where time drifted but never seemed to proceed. It was a land of delirium, tribulation, and waste.
I could have walked forever beneath that sky of fixed stars and frozen time. My limp would soften to a sob and my face would crease from the hours of peaking wince. The planets would remain fixed for days on end, and the haunt of a distant whispering would be all that remained of the wind.
I was in a plane of earth that is untouched by the living, an eternal unspoiled rock apart from time and utterly uninhabited by those of the flesh. It was a realm where spirits met, perhaps. I could fathom little purpose other than that, and of course the massive library of objects and information that was situated to my back.
Was this a part of earth’s future--or distant past? Some uninhabited eon on a rock rich with iron and quartz, that could easily be used as some kind of cosmic memory bank?
The answers stood ensconced in brilliance within the open door before me. I took a step forward. Even as I formulated questions, I could hear answers in a musical, jewel-like voice.
“What is this?” I asked myself.
“Home.” The answer came like a single, sustained note.
“Am I dead? Did that sting--”
“Initiation. Transformation.” Came the double-bell answer.
I stood in an antechamber that seemed to be made of stained glass windows and colored beams of sunlight. To the left a column descended, and a figure stepped from it.
It stepped from the overpowering light and I saw glimmering golden feathers, hammered metal and circuitry-like jewels. Something with the head of a falcon regarded me. It pointed to another crystal column I had not seen before. Where we in the same room? Had we moved?
Within the crystal column I could make out vague shapes; all were dragonfly-metallic green, and gold. Lights winked from complex surfaces. I saw a helmet of sorts, a visor of emerald, a suit of scales and under everything a circuitry humans wouldn’t produce for a thousand years.
It took me weeks to grow comfortable in that radiant suit of wonders. I climbed into it that first day, when Horus assisted, but he isn’t much for explanations. I learned how to move around, and most of all use the helmet, over the following days and weeks.
I say weeks although there are none onboard, of course. I still hold to human time but they assure me that will pass. I’m also certain that I will never forget what happened, I’ll never lose the vision of life in my green New Hampshire. I may have been reborn in that wasteland of redrock wilderness, but my first love was the green of nature as she fought to regain ground in the spring.
I will never forget anything, again, as I am now guardian of the eternal record. The Akashic record--often claimed a myth, is a very real and remarkably tangible thing. It is an organic, perhaps even alive, array of minerals, magnetics, and energy that combine to be the best memory bank in creation--in fact, one so great that it not only records a copy of the information for a true duplicate; it is a hologram of everything that has happened.
Why am I here? Well, it turns out that gods get used up, piloting this sun-machine through the skies of a trillion worlds. They eventually wear out, and need to be swapped like a sparkplug in your Chevy.
That whole thing with the sting and the wild psychedelic ride was a kind of test--an initiation. Even though I suspect it killed me, I guess I did OK.
Nothing here is even close to my former life. Existence is driven primarily by duty.
I am now one with Akashia, the living library. I feed it the latest information collected as we travel the dimensions, locating full artifacts from worlds and adding them to the record. When there are no duties to perform, I sift through the Akashic Array and study the myths of distant, foreign worlds.
Is there a lesson here? A Moral? I doubt it.
I got lost in my life, set adrift in the wasteland, and suffered harm to my body and mind. I found how much our senses define our reality. As everything I knew dissolved, something new was revealed. Only by letting go of my old life could I grasp this new existence. That is the essence of transformation.
So love your lives, readers, but cling not to them overtight. Make them what you will. Allow them to drift on occasion. Walk the halls between memories. Peer into the spaces between dreams. It is there, within those sacred interior spaces, where some of the answers lie.
~ ~ ~
Tune in tomorrow
for the Friday Flash Fiction
A NEW METAPHYSICAL
STUDY REGARDING THE
BEHAVIOR OF PLANT LIFE
by Shae Sveniker