all roads lead to mi-fu  //  our earth is purging


Out of Control // Message TOURS #5 // Shifters Ep. 4 PT 1 // Message TOURS #8 // Descension of a Young Prophet // Shifters Ep.4 PT 2


Out of Control
by The Anarchist

The sign out front was mostly blank. It did have the word “FREE” written diagonally across its upper left corner like the shop itself might be a brochure up for grabs or some such thing. And then at the bottom, if you cared to look closely, it said “Inquire within.” On the door, hung with what appeared to be recycled scotch tape, there was additionally posted a hand-scrawled message proclaiming “New Inventory.”

So now, for the first time in an apocryphal age, it was safe to say that in a tiny corner shop, well-renowned for not selling cheese or mincemeat, that the following conversation definitely did not take place...

“I’d like some control please.”

“Self-control or the power-over-others variety?”

“I’m on an errand for my employer, so the power-over-others type would be best.”

“Inventory of the old stock is running rather low. How much are you after?”

“Do you sell it by the pound?”

“We do... but due to very limited supplies at the moment the price may seem rather prohibitive. How do you intend to pay... Mister...?”

“Minion. But please call me Domonique. Do you still accept the traditional debt instruments?”

“Money? For the time being... but that could change at any moment.”

“Well as long as you accept dollars... price is no object. I’ll take whatever you’ve got left.”

“There’s just this rather crude lump here. Not too pretty to be sure, but it might still do the trick.”

“You haven’t got anything more refined, have you? Perhaps something a little less obvious... you know, dressed up with real aplomb but with a bit of a sugar coat?”

“Ah, it’s stealth you’re after then. That kind of control sold out months ago. I admit that all we’ve got left isn’t much good for anything but crude threats and real bludgeoning. Still, if you were to purchase a veritable mountain of it, I suppose one could hide behind the sheer ugliness of it.”

“But I thought you said you were running low...?”

“Yes, quite. Hm... I see what you mean. Can you accept that stealth is no longer an option? I mean, the whole control market has all but collapsed. It’s gotten a bit tricky... this whole business of trying not to be seen. A level playing field leaves scarce places to hide. It’s nothing like it used to be.”

“Oh, to be sure! Tell me about it. I’m almost to the point myself where I can see through my employer’s manipulations. If it gets any more obvious I just might have to rebel!”

“Really! That blatant now is it?”

“It is! Just this morning I actually considered not doing as I was told. But alas, here I am. I guess I’ll take whatever you’ve got left... in a fancy wrap if I could.”

“Certainly... But oh! We’ve just now sold out.”

“But... but... just a moment ago...?”

“I know. Sorry. Internet purchase.”

“Oh that damn internet! It’s to blame for this whole mess, you know!”

“I do... and I couldn’t agree more. You can’t expect to go around allowing people to learn about whatever they please, granting them the freedom to participate in all manner of things, and still maintain a semblance of social order. It’s daft!”

“Quite. Whatever am I to do now? Do you still have some of the self-control variety? Perhaps it can be adapted to my employer’s purposes.”

“Sorry. Self-control is strictly non-transferrable. It’s not allowed.”

“Yeah, but who’s going to enforce it? I mean, from what you’re telling me, the whole world’s out of control.”

“I see what you mean. I suppose I could let a bit of self-control fall into the careful hands of a proxy. But mum’s the word, eh?”

“Of course. Of course. I suppose I’ll have to be careful not to get any on me... or I won’t be able to complete the necessary modifications.”

“Indeed. You’d be well-advised to heed your own counsel on that one for sure. I’ll wrap it up good and tight... and throw in a pair of latex gloves.”

“Appreciated. Is this the new inventory here?”

“Hm... yes.”

“What is it?”

“A new thing... called freedom.”

“It looks... interesting... a bit untidy, but I suppose it might hold some appeal... for some. How much does it go for?”

“It’s free.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand you. You said free?”

“Yes indeed. Free. Can’t charge a thing for it.”

“Well, however might that work? You mean to say that you just pass it out with no compensation? No fees or exchange?”

“Well there’s good cheer and smiles. I receive a fair bit of that... in exchange.”

“But... but... that can’t be good for business!”

“No. No, not at all. Make no mistake; this is the end of the world as we know it. Freedom’s taking over. Nothing will ever be the same.”

“It’s not just some fad is it? Some teenage craze?”

“No, it looks to be quite permanent.”

“How insidious! And positively dreadful!”

“That’s what happens when the whole world’s out of control...”

Message To/From the TOURS #5 Practicing Unity 
(Team Of United Renegade Sovereigns)


Crunch time is coming. Today is March 22. In eight days the first New Moon of the astrological new year will kick off a brand new round of intentions in the ongoing Year of Transformation. And before I receive the inevitable question: Why does this astrological stuff even matter?... let me briefly explain it this way. We don’t HAVE to pay attention to astrology; ultimately, it doesn’t matter. But for the time being, the “astrological clockwork” is part of what I refer to as the “default settings” held within the collective consciousness. If we work in alignment with those “default settings” it just makes it that much easier. I don’t know about you, but I prefer to do things the easy way whenever possible.

On the eve of March 30th, we will collectively set the intention in the dreamtime to come together in full unity. It will be a beginning... involving at first only our dreaming doubles. As such, I anticipate little difficulty; we’ve done this many times before. The perceived problem that will arise however is that such a unity will likely not be remembered by our waking selves in physicality. The majority of us won’t even know whether any dreamtime connections have been made at all. For a time, just grant the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, this is all still a week away... and we’re still in the process of just assembling the TOURS for now... kinda like taking attendance or roll call.

Today’s instruction is for our ego-directed waking selves. And here, let me point out once again that this is NOT merely for those who identify with the TOURS. This is for everybody; please feel free to participate regardless. We never seek to be exclusionary.

It is the time for us to make our first forays into united effort. I’m not using the term “unity consciousness” for our ego-driven selves at this point because it simply won’t happen-- which is not to say that it can’t. But our whole orientation in physicality is still largely in the opposite direction of unity, so achieving the “special perception” that goes along with unity consciousness is just very unlikely at this time. We need to practice and to make consistent efforts to reorient ourselves to a whole new way of being and doing. We need to get playfully experimental.

I’ll happily assume that the majority of readers here are at least somewhat familiar with meditation. I’ll go a step further in this belief that many or most have even participated in group meditations-- even if only those organized through the internet. This is along those lines. It’s time to work together... in earnest. So here’s what I’m proposing:

Let us assemble into groups in the waking world. Our groups can be of any size; even as small as two is fine, and up to 150 is also fine, but I’m not expecting such large groupings... yet. Choose people you’d be comfortable working with on “spiritual endeavours.” What do I mean by spiritual endeavours? Damn near whatever you want it to mean. The key is to choose an intention. Let it be something you and your partners equally desire. A few examples would be along the lines of say... clearing a pocket of negative energy in your immediate neighbourhood... or manifesting the resources for a new adventure in doing... or creating a bubble of positive/loving energy in the local mall and observing people’s encounters with it. Whatever you can think of that you’d like accomplished in the “real” world that may serve as an experiment. “Can we do this? Can we pull this off?” It’s time to find out.

Once you’ve selected an agreed-upon goal, next design a procedure, ritual, meditation, visualization, or a work of art, or anything else you can think of that holds meaning for all members of your group. Yes, make it up! Certainly, you may use traditional tools like crystals, candles, tarot cards, aroma therapy oils, flower remedies, or any other damn thing you please... just try to use these items in a new way. Engage your creativity... your imaginations. We’re trying to learn about our creatorship in a group setting. Whatever procedure your group settles upon should simply be a meaningful way of expressing the desired intent to the universe at large, giving it as much force as your symbols and paraphernalia can muster. There are no wrong procedures. This is an experiment. We’re looking for constructive feedback in order to refine such procedures the next time around. Hopefully, there will be many many next times around.

A few guidelines to keep in mind: Allow each member of the group to contribute to the project in individualistic ways. Don’t force group members to do things they’re totally unfamiliar or uncomfortable with. This is not about selecting a group leader who’s going to delegate responsibilities according to his own master plan. It’s about asking what each member is comfortable contributing... and going with that. Nothing here needs to fit into any pre-designed structures. We’re building anew... and finding out what works in the process. There is no requirement for complexity; let it be as simplistic as possible while still being meaningful to the whole group.

So in summary, you are to select a (positive) intention. Through ritual, art or meditation, etc., express that intention to the universe at large. Consciously release your own energy into the group endeavour. And watch for results and other feedback. Have fun with it.

Group work like this follows the Rule of Squares. This means that the power behind the group intention is multiplied by the square of the number of members in the group. So for instance, working by yourself you wield the power of the square of one which is one. Working in a group of two suddenly yields four times the power (the square of two). In terms of ratios, that’s the greatest difference-- moving from just one to two yields a fourfold increase. If you have five members in your group working on the same intention, you collectively wield 25 times the force. You can begin to see the power of unity! If, down the road, say a million people take on a collective intent together, that group of one million working in concert would have the effectiveness of one trillion working alone (one million times one million is one trillion). So just one million-- which is approximately one-seven-thousandth (1/7,000) of the planet’s population-- working consciously together has the equivalent effectiveness of 150 times the planet’s entire population working their intents by themselves!

The whole point of this exercise is to prove to ourselves-- our physical waking ego-driven selves-- the tremendous power of unity consciousness... and this isn’t even true unity consciousness yet. That’s a slightly more intimate animal with a whole host of abilities and perceptions that go along with it. We need this opportunity to prepare ourselves, to prove to ourselves, that ANYTHING we wish to create is in fact possible. But remember to have fun with this dammit! You’re not expected to yield spectacular results straight away-- although some of you undoubtedly will.

And now, briefly, I’ll anticipate one of your inevitable and rather astute questions, that being: Won’t the “bad guys” or the “cabal” just use exactly the same procedure outlined here to reinforce their ill intentions? Undoubtedly they will try. What has changed however is what the collective consciousness of humanity will allow. The collective does not allow us to move backwards in evolution. As far as all of those ill-intents go, we’ve already done them to death; there’s nothing more for us to explore within that frame of experience. The collective is supporting the new with a view to expansiveness and increased freedom. The energy is simply not available anymore for the same-old same-old. Those are the structures we’ve been working so hard to break down up to this point. (And I will return shortly to answering more questions in the next missive in a couple of days... so don’t panic.)

So, start simple, choosing goals or intentions which all members agree are achievable. We want to build confidence and technique. (Caution: instances of telepathy may occur; don’t freak out!) Eventually we will get used to the idea of unity consciousness so that our waking selves will yearn to unite with our dreaming doubles-- who will very soon be in true unity. When our inner worlds seamlessly begin to blend with our external realities in a way that is fully open to our perceptions, true Oneness begins... and then all bets are off as to how awesome things can be...


Shifters Episode 4
“Dreams, Archons and Possessions Part 1”

Who invented dreaming? thought Meera. Was it a real thing? What does “real” mean anyway? Everything was a mystery... and the more clues that Meera gathered about herself and the world, the more the mystery deepened... and contorted... and darkened.

There was no one to ask. Mother was hardly ever home. Oriah had become somewhat distant since the instance of her waking nightmare, and the last thing Oriah would deign to discuss with her sister anyway was dreams. But somehow Meera knew that there was something essential, something revelatory cloaked in dreams, something that had evaded human understanding for... well, ever.

Clandestinely, Meera would still creep into her sister’s dreamland, carefully sharing those nighttime adventures like a whisper or a breeze, hardly worth noticing at all. She watched in curious silence night after night, but there was little to glean from the haphazard content of her sister’s psyche uncoiling itself to stretch and dance in these meaningless gyrations. No, the content of Oriah’s dreaming held no worthy insights for Meera. It was the very structure or process of dreaming itself which held the elusive key, and Meera was at a loss as to how to get at that. Still, what else could she do?

Persistence in the face of no progress at all eventually opened an obscure door. Not all dreams are private and objectively meaningless, Meera learned. Sometimes they are attended by... others... invaders like herself... perhaps. But here was an opportunity she was eager to seize... and seize it she did.

She had learned to watch Oriah as she was sleeping, intently staring at her sister’s closed eyes in the dimness. At the first signs of movement beneath the lids-- an indication that dreaming had begun-- she would dive in straight away to wherever Oriah’s mind would take them.

This night the dreaming was different, not remarkably so, just a little odd... at first. Oriah’s dream duplicated their bedroom, not an exact copy, but a recognizable similarity at least. In her dream, Oriah was lying awake in bed. She looked about her at the tattered and shabby walls. Cracked plaster and peeling paint showed the signs of neglect and wear on all sides, and off in one corner there was even a hole, a hole just about big enough to admit a little girl. Oriah climbed from her bed and ventured toward the hole in the wall. She poked her head into the unremitting blackness, and then suddenly, without warning, she tumbled through the yawning mouth of darkness.

The silent wisp, the observer of dreams, Meera hurried after; for if she was to be separated from her sister, she would lose the thread of the dream as it would quickly dissolve around her, landing her back in the waking world, no wiser.

She couldn’t imagine what was on the other side of the black hole. It was Oriah’s dream, after all. She plunged heedlessly ahead, uncaring and fearless. And then what had merely seemed odd slipped a notch... right into strange...

Oriah was gone, nowhere to be seen; she had vanished. But this was her dream! How could she be absent... and the dream not instantly dissolve? It persisted, and Meera found herself in a strange dimensionless realm, seemingly within the walls of what had been her sister’s dream. And it was here inside the walls of dreaming that Meera met the others.

They reminded her of sleeping bats, but somewhat bigger. They lined the insides of the walls like a slumbering swarm, clustered and huddled in dark pockets. Their individual shapes were like stingrays, lacking the distinctions of limbs or a head. Their color was somewhere between grey and brown, a muddy blur like dirty shadows. They weren’t moving, but somehow Meera knew that they were alive... or at least something imitating life.

Since the realm of this strange dream persisted, even in Oriah’s absence, Meera became herself, the familiar double to her twin. As a little girl, perplexed but curious, she reached out a probing finger to poke the nearest one. It stirred a moment, ruffling its skin in tiny ripples, and then settled back into stillness again. It was cold to the touch, bloodless and rubbery, like a halloween toy designed to elicit a squeamish revulsion in its tactile character. It had a strange solidity which Meera could only name as... emptiness. No, it didn’t make any sense. This strangeness had slipped another notch, right down into weird.

Next, she sought to give it a gentle shake with her hand, maybe even grasp it. But as she reached to follow her intent, the mud-shadow-thing suddenly came fully into animation and shot out from beneath her hand to take an awkward flight. It flapped furiously and ungracefully, much like a bat, circling about her head. All the other mud-shadow-things stirred from their apparent slumber with an undulating quiver that made the walls come alive with agitation, but they did not alight. They settled back down nearly instantly like a dying murmur as the one she’d try to grab came to rest again too in its accustomed spot.

“What have we here?” said a voice both within and outside her mind.

“You can talk?” she queried aloud.

“Something like that,” replied the mud-shadow-thing without moving even the tiniest bit.

Meera tried to locate a mouth from where speech might originate, but the thing was just a featureless shape, unyielding and impenetrable to her curious gaze. “What are you?” she asked, glad that for once she herself was not the object of question.

“We are called many things, many unflattering things,” it explained with a note of disdain. “I am archon.”

“That’s an interesting name,” said Meera honestly. “What does it mean?”

“We are not named.” The word ‘named’ was spat like poison. “Archon is what I am, and it means ruler.”

“Like for measuring things?”

“Yes, for measuring stupidity!” The sarcasm hung densely in the air a moment. “No, ruler as in king, superior, majesty!”

“Forgive me,” said Meera innocently, “but you aren’t really very majestic.”

“And what sort of impish wretch are you!”

If only Meera knew the answer to that! She responded in the only manner she could. “Why, I’m a little girl, of course.”

“Lying imp! The fact that we are having this conversation tells me that cannot be true. So try again. What are you?”

Meera paused, trying to think up a suitable response, but finally decided that perhaps the truth would do. “I don’t know.”

The ensuing silence had a ponderous quality about it. This whole place, Meera noticed, had the kind of atmosphere where thoughts and feelings kind of hung in the air like mist. In a moment, the tactile quality of it shifted to a feeling of being scrutinized, though without any accompanying movement or word. She felt penetrated then, like a salt doll dissolving in water... but she held herself together... awaiting a verdict.

“You are... like us... a denizen of the between-worlds, unborn, unevolving.”

“I was born,” insisted Meera, but even as she said it, she recognized it as a lie.

“No, your skill at imitation is superlative... you can even fool yourself. You are... interesting. How are you called?”

“My name is Meera. You think I’m interesting?” Interest was better than the usual fear.

“Indeed... Meera. We should be... friends.” The last word sounded strained and awkward, like perhaps it had never been spoken before.

“Friends?” Meera too spoke the word as though it belonged to another language. “I guess we could be friends. That would be okay.” Meera had no idea whether forging a friendship with a mud-shadow-thing called archon was really a good thing or not, but really, what did she have to lose? “How will we meet up next? I don’t even know what or where this place is. How will I find you again?”

“I will find you in the waking world,” said the archon. “And I will settle down with you as you begin to dream each night.”

“But I don’t dream,” explained Meera meekly, and the atmosphere was instantly draped in disappointment. And then with a bit of gusto she added “But I can follow my sister into her dreaming; that’s how I got here in the first place.”

“Oh Meera, you are so very interesting indeed!”

The very next night the archon fulfilled its promise. As soon as Meera entered Oriah’s dream, the mud-shadow-thing was right there beside her. The two intruders hung back beyond Oriah’s awareness as they surreptitiously followed her dream.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” whispered Meera. “I never saw you in the waking world.”

“I am nearly undetectable there,” replied the archon. “Sometimes the effects of my presence are subtly intuited by some, but to most I am utterly invisible. I’m surprised that you can even see me now... in this dream. I had expected to be a mere voice, for your ears alone, in this realm.”

“I can see you,” insisted Meera.

“I know.”

“Can you see me?”

“I can discern your presence. Very little escapes me.”

The two followed Oriah for the duration of her dreaming, discussing the banality of the dreamscape encountered. Finally as night wore on to the approach of day, the archon made on odd request of Meera.

“Will you frighten your sister?”

“What? No, I don’t want to do that again. She’s still mad from the last time.”

“I need to feed,” said the archon matter-of-factly.

“What?” Meera was genuinely perplexed.

“I need to feed,” repeated the archon, “and fear is the easiest way. You could use a boost too.”

“Whatever are you talking about!” Meera was aghast.

Now the archon was momentarily confused. “You don’t know,” he said flatly after a few seconds. “We feed on emotions... you and I. We exist on the discarded feelings of others. Fear is a thing that humans desire to be rid of. We perform this service for them.”

“But... but... you just asked me to cause her to be scared. That doesn’t seem right.” Meera’s thoughts were in a whirl.

“Like you’ve never done it before! How do you suppose you’ve kept yourself going? Had your sister been more prone to nightmares, there would have been no need for the request. But this insipid dreaming, bereft of any emotion at all, has left us both depleted. Go now, be a good girl, and scare the hell out of her... for both our sake.”

Meera did as she was told. She knew the truth of it; it was necessary. She had never really had a friend before, especially one who could answer so many of her stubborn questions. This time though, she was careful to drop the guise of the monster instantly as the fright brought the twins to full wakefulness.

Awakened now in their shabby bedroom, Meera comforted her sobbing sister in her arms... and yes, she felt the nourishment flow into her hungry form. And as she peered over Oriah’s shoulder, she could just make out in the corner by the ceiling a hungry shadow that had never been there before... hovering on waves of quiet anguish... feeding...


Message To/From the TOURS #8 Elbow Room
(Team Of United Renegade Sovereigns)


Since about mid-February we’ve been in “The Squeeze.” At the level of the collective, the forces opposing humanity’s bid for freedom have been doing everything possible to suppress our realization of freedom’s true potential. “They” put the lid on us and tried everything to keep us down… and for the past six weeks we were kind of stuck. There was enough movement subconsciously to forego any need for drastic moves on our part, but we just couldn’t muster the wherewithal to manifest any “large” events on the world stage. Now that has changed.

The really good news is that those opposing the efforts toward freedom took their best shot; they expended their repertoire of dirty tricks… and failed. Yesterday, March 29th, there was significant movement. The collective jiggled and jostled and gained a bit of elbow room. Now it’s our turn.

Today is the New Moon of the astrological new year (March 30, 2014). Today and tomorrow and even into the first half of the Day of Fools it’s time to set our intentions for the next month and the next year. But before you jump right in, please allow me to encourage everyone to first dream big. Go for the whole fucking enchilada! The Earth, the Sun and the Moon are all fully behind our bid for emancipation. The opposing forces have already spent themselves in a failed effort. There’s really nothing to prevent our complete success at this time other than our own conditioned fears.

“Seismic undertakings reveal the unlimited aspects of Higher Self.” This statement comes from perhaps the net’s most cryptic blog, EirePort. What do you suppose they mean by seismic undertakings? Yeah, that’s us, working deep in the collective consciousness in the dreamtime. Have you begun to feel the unlimited aspects of your Higher Self? For simplicity’s sake we can equate the Higher Self with our dreamtime doubles. The consensus among the TOURS is that we’re ready to begin to make some bold moves… although still primarily at the level of deep dreaming.

Our dreaming doubles (Higher Selves) are always in collective communication. A great deal of dreaming at the deeper levels is through shared consciousness. This is NOT however true unity consciousness… and here’s why. Our dreaming doubles’ first loyalty is to our waking selves. They (who are actually us) cannot enter into true unity consciousness without our consent and participation at the level of beta consciousness in physicality. Your dreaming double wishes to connect with you; it’s always been that way, but now it’s slightly more imperative. Generally speaking, it’s integration time.

For now it will suffice if each of us begins by granting consent for our dreaming doubles to connect with us. There have always been subtle inroads and tenuous bridges between our waking selves and our dreaming doubles. As these connections strengthen and we are drawn together toward wholeness, what often happens in dreaming is that we have dreams where we are not ourselves. We take on other identities. Quite a few of the TOURS have already noticed this phenomenon. Of course you still dream in the “first person,” experiencing the sequence of events subjectively, but strangely you are not your familiar identity from waking life; you are someone else– a stranger… and yet not a stranger at all.

You have many many “faces” to reintegrate in the quest for wholeness. You have inhabited many personas. Your dreaming double is all of these. You will become reacquainted with each of them from the inside out. You will get to know these familiar strangers… and slowly accept them as yourselves. The first step in true unity consciousness is to discover the richness and depth of your multifaceted wholeness. First you become one; then, eventually, we all become one… but that’s still a ways off.

Beginning now, lend your consent and energize your intent upon retiring to bed– or even before a nap– to experience yourself in all of your guises… and accept the gathering energy thrumming in your heart as we all proceed with this reintegration. Trust your dreaming double; it is wise beyond measure; it will not lead you astray.

And by all means, continue with your efforts to practice unity within the waking world in your select groups.

Set your intentions for this year of total transformation. Set your expectations high. There is literally nothing we can’t do!



Mi-Fu/The New Earth

Edwin’s Note: Whenever the story takes place within Mi-Fu-- in the inner continuum, within the Refraction Module-- it will be titled “Mi-Fu.” When the story takes place in and around Martin Dexter’s cabin, it will be titled “The New Earth.” What follows here, then, takes place in both... sort of.

The Descension of a Young Prophet

Worlds within worlds within worlds within worlds...

He was born Paul Kaczmir, a flesh and blood human being of unremarkable circumstance. He had lived some thirty-odd years as a troubled man before being assimilated by the android Mi-Fu-- a most remarkable creation of his former lover Jon. Assimilation into the Mi-Fu reality, in a nutshell, involved the complete replication of Paul’s consciousness, and its subsequent transfer to the Refraction Module which was housed in the bowel region of Mi-Fu. The storage capacity of the Refraction Module was infinite... and so others had been likewise assimilated.

Within the unique environment of the inner continuum, where assimilants maintained a self-identity but otherwise shared their memories with all others in an experiential way, a misguided and fearful Paul had attempted to take control of the inner continuum in order to become the animating consciousness of the android himself. Paul’s plans eventually succeeded in supplanting Mi-Fu.

The original Mi-Fu “personality” had been very careful to only gather assimilants from among the terminally ill because it was correctly feared that duplicating one’s consciousness could lead to serious complications when the one pursued its interests in the regular outer world while the other trod a vastly different path within the inner continuum. Identical consciousnesses had an irrepressible affinity for telepathy, hence the complication.

Upon the heels of Paul’s usurpation of Mi-Fu, he immediately engaged in an orgy of further assimilations. He became a very indiscriminate collector of minds, hoping to amass more knowledge than anyone since... well, God. The Refraction Module was already strained to its organizational limit when Paul suddenly assimilated the mind of an alien. The new foreign data from the alien’s consciousness forced the Refraction Module into creating an apparent world of matter which was a new organizational overlay involving complex patterns of light at varying frequencies... condensed. The reality of the inner continuum became a universe in its own right. The identities of the original assimilants blended to become the DreamRealms, and upon the newly formed worlds of the inner continuum new lifeforms emerged. The inner world of Mi-Fu had evolved way beyond the original intent of Mi-Fu’s creator.

When Paul, the animating personality of the android, ventured introspectively within the inner continuum to retrieve the vast knowledge it contained, he promptly got lost. As a consequence, the android in the real world fell dormant.  And then just to complicate things even further, as the original flesh-and-blood Paul attempted suicide-- a consequence of the madness resulting from his telepathic link with his assimilated double-- instead of just outright dying, that Paul too found his way into the inner continuum of Mi-Fu by following strange manifestations of that same telepathic link.

Phew! And that was only the half of it!

Eventually both versions of Paul met up within the inner continuum, and with the help of various strange and gifted allies, they managed to somewhat reorient themselves within their complex and convoluted reality. Finally, they instituted a plan which had as its goal the return of Paul to the seat of consciousness as the driver of Mi-Fu. The original Mi-Fu personality, which was an emergent consciousness having arisen from the gestalt of the inner continuum, had no interest in retrieving the reins of his robotic existence. He existed now in an obscure corner of the Refraction Module as a strangely sophisticated poetry subroutine... contemplative... and poetic... in his own way... of course.

How the physical body of the android came to be seated at the kitchen table of Martin Dexter’s cabin is a whole other thread in this twisted skein-- one well-depicted in some weird books existing in an alternate reality, quite available to anyone existing there... or, er... here... now, where were we? Ah yes...

Prior to Paul’s reinstatement as the personality behind the mechanical eyes now finally opened, he had been privy to the esoteric discussions which had taken place in front of him at that iconic kitchen table. He had heard all of the metaphysical elucidations from the Children’s Collective before he finally remembered how to simply open his damn eyes. He wasn’t at all sure that hearing those discussions had made him any more the wiser. And then upon coming into full wakefulness, he was suddenly inundated with messages coming from the “multidimensional internet,” courtesy of the Anarchist-- whoever that might be. Ah, to be the nexus of incomprehensible complexities! If this is what it’s like to be God, Paul was finally sure that he wasn’t quite ready to apply for that job just yet.

So the journey which had begun with a perverse plan to seize all knowledge in a bid for his own deification had now stalled at this little cabin in the woods, leaving Paul far more confused than he ever imagined any human being could be... without simply collapsing, defeated and exhausted, into a heap of dust.

It was time now to gather his wits about him, however bruised and misshapen they may be. He wasn’t even ready to venture outside to gaze upon the surrounding forest for fear of overstimulation. He needed to get things in order on the inside, now that his mind was again the outer membrane encompassing these many worlds within.

Do robots meditate? This one does, decided Paul. He told the strangers at the kitchen table not to worry as he closed his eyes again, and coaxed his consciousness to flow and ooze within the mechanical cells of this alien body.

There was some strange kinesthetic memory which spread his awareness into the tiny kinks and nooks of this synthetic construction. He could distinguish limbs, and hands, and fingers, and toes, the feel of being equally all these many parts, as well as something infinitely more than their sum. He breathed-- not out of any dire imperative, but because it made him feel alive. Was he? He couldn’t be sure. So many definitions had become hopelessly blurred.

The bounded infinities of myriad worlds lay at his fingertips. Since the Refraction Module had learned how to perfectly duplicate itself, there was no limit to the number of worlds that might be created in an apocalyptic moment. Once he had thought that he had an imagination; now he was sure that he was an imagination. Solid things were no more real than dreams or ideas. There were just layers and gradations, places to explore, fantasies to be implemented. If there was a God, he put up no barriers to creating and creating and creating...

But Paul Kaczmir, the Young Prophet, was done adding to this mess of a reality. It was time now to look-- to really look-- at what had been wrought. There were more adventures to explore than a million lifetimes could claim. He had no logical idea where to begin, so he hunkered down inside himself, looking in the seventh direction, to see where he might be led... to where he might be called...

Perhaps he had fallen asleep, but androids don’t sleep, and they certainly weren’t supposed to dream, but he found himself in mental constructs which could only be the ephemerality of dreams... again. Dreaming was like casting images on the surfaces of soap bubbles, and here in his introspective universe there were soap bubbles within soap bubbles within soap bubbles... infinite layers of shimmering translucence eagerly quivering at the chance to reflect the tiniest inklings of intent.

Worlds tended to be self-contained things, pools of consciousness, splashing and glittering to their own internal kaleidoscopic delight. They tended not to need the attentions of confused and bloated robots disrupting their destinies. He passed a million by, uncalled. But then, there was one; it was a world with a hole where its heart should have been. It yearned; it cried out with forlorn whispers; its inhabitants mostly ignorant of a dead end fate. A dying world, it beckoned shyly. It was Earth, old and worn, stripped of her soul. Here was a tragic tale worthy of any eager Young Prophet!


Shifters Episode 4
“Dreams, Archons and Possessions Part 2”


The archon proved to be very knowledgeable. Meera learned that both her and the archon were something known as inorganic beings. The main difference between them though was that the archon had a definite body shape, whereas Meera was able to shift her shape at will. It was this particular ability which the archon encouraged Meera to practice often.

They discovered that shape-shifting required considerably more energy than maintaining a static form. But with the careless emotionality to which her sister was prone at least in waking life, Meera found adequate opportunities to feed without needing to resort to many drastic measures. Meera’s unique ability remained mostly a secret, but both Oriah and Mother suspected that there was much more to the appearance of this little girl than met the eye. Her imitative perfection was still too uncanny to be anything but freakishly unnatural. And Meera, for her part, still mirrored her sister flawlessly, simply out of habit.

After a time, the archon expressed boredom at the banality of Oriah’s dreams. There was little to be gained in continuing their nightly invasions, he explained.

“Okay,” said Meera easily, “what should we do instead?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” mused the archon, “if we could take control of the dream ourselves and craft whatever we wished instead?”

“However might we accomplish that? Neither one of us knows how to dream. We don’t even know what dreams are.”

“You don’t know what dreams are, but I do. Dreams are the means by which consciousness is divided. They are a partition or a veil behind which portions of oneself may be hid indefinitely. All lower dimensional worlds of separation dream; it’s how such worlds are created in the first place. Because the humans dream, they fail to know themselves for who they are. Vast tracks of identity and ability are hidden away in their dreams.”

“But if we begin dreaming ourselves, won’t we become divided too? Mightn’t we lose ourselves along the way?”

“We are not made for dreaming; we cannot dream. We are the bastard offspring of dreaming instead. We are a byproduct, an extra appendage to this human experience. No, we need Oriah still... to do the dreaming for us.”

“But how can we take control of her dream... to make it what we want?”

“By taking control of Oriah, of course. How else?”

Meera paused at that. Somehow it sounded wrong-- not that it wouldn’t work, but that doing so might be a violation... of something, but Meera didn’t know of what. “How would we do that?” she asked finally.

“I suspect that you have a natural ability.” The archon seemed to quietly laugh. “You found your way into Oriah’s dreaming mind easily enough. It would simply be a matter of doing the very same while she’s awake. I think you will find that concealing yourself within the minds of others is your natural habitat. It’s where you belong. For you must certainly confess that you don’t seem to fit terribly well into the life you’ve led so far.”

It was true. Meera had scarcely ever had the sense of belonging; she hardly knew what the word meant. She was an outcast. Perhaps it was true; maybe she belonged in the minds of others, sharing their lives from the inside out... rather than this fumbling existence in a peculiar world in which her own sister and mother disdained her.

“Tell me what to do...”

It was easy really. All it took was nothing more than occupying the same space as Oriah. As the archon had explained, all bodies are mostly made up of empty space. There was plenty of room for Meera to completely “overlap” her sister’s physical existence. She was already well practiced at copying Oriah’s every detail. Now it was just a matter of merging their two bodies, fusing their minds.

Because Oriah could never have conceived of such a thing, she couldn’t put up a fight. She had no clue what was happening, only that she suddenly felt nauseous... and heavy. She didn’t have a clue that Meera was now inside her, occupying the spaces between molecules, the empty spaces of atoms. Oh, she knew very well that something was terribly wrong, but how does one even begin to guess that suddenly they’re possessed?

Oriah informed Mother that she needed to rest; she was going to bed early. “Tell Meera that I’m sick when you see her.” But of course Meera already knew.

Oh, the dreaming was glorious! The archon had been right. Meera was a natural. She took control of her sister’s mind like she was born to it-- and in a way, she was. She and her mud-shadow friend romped through a dreamscape of twisted imagination. The imagination of course was Oriah’s, but it had never been pushed down these strange corridors of fascination before.

“Shall we go deeper?” asked the archon with something approaching glee.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean to the place where worlds are held together, where the humans share their dreams. It is a dark pool of seething consciousness where every soul has its tether. It is the very place where worlds are birthed and their destinies unravelled.”

“Sounds fun,” said Meera all too casually. And down they plunged to the heart of the Earth in darkest dreaming...

“What’s wrong?” asked Meera in the shadowy depths. It was rare that the archon would display any emotion of its own, but its distress was palpable.

“It’s missing...”

“What? What’s missing?”

“The soul of the world,” said the archon flatly. “She’s not here!”

“Whoever do you mean?” And as she asked it Meera discerned the great void where clearly something vital had been removed.

“The Earth Mother, the overarching consciousness of the planet, it’s gone! Even the souls of the animal nations have been removed. All that’s left are the dreams of humans, tangled and ugly. We’ve been duped!”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” insisted Meera.

“This is a dying world,” whispered the archon. “They trapped us all on a dying world!”

And the feeling that then hung in the air was one of desperation and despair, a thick and heavy fog. Perhaps the archon said it aloud, perhaps not, but the word was so strangely foreign it frightened Meera... Help!

Copyright © 2014 Niels Kunze, the author., All rights reserved.