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


AUDIO NARRATIVE

The New Earth Part 1Part 2 // Shifters 2 // Musings by The Anarchist // Martin Dexter's Journal

 
 

"When the Refraction Module learned how to perfectly duplicate itself
countless times,
All hell broke loose...
And the Aesthetics Loop saw that it was good.”
- Mi-Fu 


The New Earth

 


Edwin’s Note: The Children’s Collective, having assembled at Martin Dexter’s cabin, have established full unity consciousness. They are fully telepathic, and having discourse with one is in effect sharing dialogue with all. Therefore, the individual names of the children within the Collective is largely irrelevant. Only Coventry, Angelica and Krishna retain their individual names when interacting with the adults because their presence at Martin’s predates the arrival of the rest of the children and is maintained as a courtesy to the adults.

Joseph is one of the adults, a wise one who was first introduced through the Conversations with Joseph series of tales told by Jon-- Mi-Fu’s creator. And Mi-Fu remember is the still-dormant android sitting at Martin Dexter’s kitchen table.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was a strange detente at Martin Dexter’s cabin. Daren and his gunslinging army paradoxically played the role of the timid and fearful ones as the unarmed residents mingled with confident impunity. Ever since Lynn’s miraculous recovery from having half her head blown off by Daren’s rash impulsiveness, he and his minions were lost in a storm of cognitive dissonance. It was impossible; it simply could not be... and yet Lynn was there, alive, now sitting up in bed, smiling, joking. It was a threat to everything the mercenaries thought they knew. The rules had changed; brute force was no longer king.

And then there was the matter of all the children. They were strangely quiet... and somehow serious, not the typical carefree playfulness to be expected from mere children. Nor did they ever exhibit a shred of fear in the face of these nervous gun- toting thugs. It was as though they all shared a delicious secret-- one in which they each had full confidence would keep them all safe. Of course the ‘secret’ was their telepathic connection to one another-- another anomaly which Daren’s men could not even begin to understand.

The individuals in Daren’s army were variously trying to find ways to cope. There was a fair bit of talk among them of just sneaking away at night and leaving all this high strangeness behind them. But curiosity can be a very compelling thing. Deep down the majority of them knew that there was some treasure here, yet to be uncovered. What were they afraid of really? A bunch of quiet thoughtful children... and their ragtag group of hippie foster parents? A few here and there began to engage the children in conversation to try and get a handle on this bizarre situation. 

Joseph watched from the cover of the forest shadows as one of Daren’s men followed a young girl, with whom he’d been conversing, into a thicket of trees and berry bushes. The ever-curious Joseph was eager to eavesdrop on their exchange, and followed behind unseen.




The Intention-Fruit Tree

“Intention is like an arm of your spiritual body,” explained the little girl. “And just like your physical body, it needs to be properly nourished. So far you’ve lived a life in denial of your own spiritual nature, and your intent is weak and hungry. Truly, you have an obligation to tell the universe in no uncertain terms what it is you wish to experience. That is the forte of intent.”

“Sounds a lot like all that law of attraction crap I heard about,” answered the soldier. “You know, before the whole world nearly up and died.”

“Yes, except that intending is a lot more forceful than attracting.” It was obvious to Joseph looking on that the little girl was appealing to the mercenary’s more aggressive nature. How could she possibly be so casually wise? “It’s more like you’re putting a part of yourself out there, and inviting the universe to respond. Intending is more active and deliberate, whereas attracting is more passive. But if you want to wield intent with true strength, you’ll have to feed your own confidence in the veracity of your convictions.”

He eyed her suspiciously-- not for any doubt as to what she was saying, but for the incredibly sophisticated way in which she was saying it. Nonplussed, she turned to a tall bush whose branches leaned over the forest space they occupied. “This is an intention-fruit tree,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Though its berries will nourish your physical body like any food, its special magic lies in fortifying your emotional body, imparting confidence and clarity of purpose.” Under his continued gaze of suspicion she casually reached up to pluck one of the bright red berries. “It’s no trick. I eat them all the time,” she said, popping it into her mouth.

After a lengthy pause he too reached out and grabbed a few of the ripest offerings and stared at them in his own open hand. “Just eat them one at a time,” she instructed, “over the course of a few days. Let the juices work their magic. By this time next week you should be experiencing a clarity of mind and purpose which has frankly been absent your entire life. Then you’ll be able to tell the universe your true intentions...” Here she paused deliberately to look upon the holstered gun at his side in a subtly disparaging way as if to say “You don’t really desire to perpetrate any violence anyway, do you?” From Joseph’s vantage it was clear that he was fully within her thrall. She had woven a compelling fairytale spell in the blink of an eye. He tried to give voice to one last lingering doubt, but she deftly preempted him. “Please don’t believe me. It’s not necessary. Test it for yourself. Let’s at least be scientific about this.” Joseph nearly burst out laughing at that, but pressed his lips together tight so as to not reveal his hiding place.

The soldier could find no objection, nothing to fight. He ate one of the “intention-fruits” and nodded in approval of its appealing flavor. Then quietly, perhaps contemplatively, he walked back towards Dex’s cabin. Once he was out of earshot the little girl spoke to the forest shadows. “You can come out now.”

Joseph wasn’t really surprised that she’d known he was there eavesdropping. Nothing the children did surprised him anymore... but now it was time for some explanations, a bit of esoteric learning. He joined the little girl beneath the “intention-fruit tree.”

“That’s high-bush cranberry,” insisted Joseph.

“Yes,” agreed the young girl standing in the grove, “for you it most assuredly is just cranberries. For some of those within Daren’s Army however they are intention-fruit. Their psyches yearn for magic… which has now been provided.”

“But it’s deception.”

“True, but all of the adults here operate within distortion, therefore deception becomes necessary to move consciousness. Don’t worry; deceptions are always of a temporary nature– tools of the moment.”

“You say they ‘yearn for magic,’ why?”

“Ever since witnessing Lynn’s recovery from having her brains blown out by Daren, they are under a tremendous pressure to evolve. The pressure comes from within as well as from without. Their consciousness is being homoeopathically compressed by time and circumstance; the response will be either collapse or expansion. We are working toward expansion. They have witnessed ‘magic’ in Lynn’s case… and so magic provides an inroad to their petrified psyches. Their minds are stuck in a third-dimensional paradigm, from which it is natural to ask ‘But is it true?’ Then, whatever narrative is being provided can either be accepted or rejected outright. But if the narrative serves to stretch or expand consciousness-- providing choice where formerly there was none, then why should it matter in the least whether the narrative is true or not?”
It was unnerving for Joseph to have this conversation with a “little girl” and yet have complete confidence in what she was telling him. He nodded and the conversation continued.

Living In Metaphor

“I hope that you can appreciate that it’s a bit disconcerting having this conversation with someone as young as you,” stated Joseph flatly.

“Why? Only this body is young; I am not.”

“Yes, of course… but your vocabulary…”

“I am in unity with the Children’s Collective. What is known by one is known by all, including our cumulative lexicon. And even so, words are extremely limiting.”

“I understand–”

“To a degree,” interrupted the little girl, “but if you’ll allow me to indulge and expand your current understanding…”

“Of course,” acceded Joseph with a slight bow.

“By their very nature words are metaphors, always, no exceptions. They stand as symbolic representations for that which is real. They are not the thing in itself. Certainly this is obvious, but nevertheless oft forgotten. Your current state of consciousness is predominantly word-dependent. You think in words; you reside in metaphor. The very concepts you are able to contemplate are directly dependent upon the extent of your vocabulary. Typically, if you don’t have a word for it, you have no means to think about it. Ponder this; it is a profound limitation– of which so very few lost in the metaphor are aware.”

“So by thinking in words, relying on language,” mused Joseph, “we are one step removed from actually operating within reality.”

“Let’s just stick with words. There are languages which do not rely on words at all. Telepathy and unity consciousness employ languages... but not words.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Telepathy is not much like the non-telepathic imagine it to be. We don’t just silently send and receive words amongst each other. It’s rather an open sharing of our innate, inherent, inborn, natural languages. Our feelings are one such language, and it is complete-- nothing missing or ambiguous about it. And the full array of our individual life experiences comprise another telepathic language. Everything we have done or been is open to all-- not as an object for scrutiny and judgment, but as a field of connection, an intermediary for shared understanding. In unity consciousness we have no privacy, no secrecy; there is no such thing as elitism among us. We find only the equality of infinite value among our individual expressions-- these lives.”

“Would I be able to join your collective in unity consciousness?”

“There is nothing within the collective to prevent you. However, your own valuation of certain concepts keeps you... enclosed.”

“Which concepts in particular?”

“As I already stated, privacy, secrecy and elitism are the really big ones, but almost equally as important is your concepts of shame and inadequacy and all which follows from these. These are all false concepts.”

“What do you mean by false? For I am quite sure that I have truly felt shame in my life, for instance.”

“There are so many concepts which are purely human inventions... like shame, greed and revenge to name a few. They are false because they have no correlates in the natural world outside of the human domain. The trees and the animals cannot feel shame; they do not pursue revenge; they cannot succumb to greed. In the natural world, these are false concepts; they don’t hold water.”
Joseph pondered a moment, nodded and then said “But why in the world would we ever invent them?”

A Discussion of Dimensions

“Humans invented a whole host of nasty concepts to keep their consciousness locked into the third dimension.”

“And why would we ever wish to lock ourselves into the third dimension?”

“So that we could fully explore that realm-- to know it.” Joseph’s brow wrinkled in consternation.

“It’s all about consciousness,” continued the little girl. “Words belong to the third and fourth dimensions. From the fifth and beyond they are acknowledged as hindrances. The only ‘place’ where dimensions exist is within consciousness. There are no dimensions out there.” She gestured to the sky.

“How does consciousness move from one dimension to another?”

“It is an expansion rather than a movement that accommodates the higher dimensions. It is the expansion of choice. The third dimension for example, is nearly bereft of choice. The only choice available in every time-bound moment in the third is the choice to become conscious of being conscious. Consciousness must learn to observe itself in order for choice to expand… allowing for fourth-dimensional consciousness to dawn.”

“I thought time was the fourth dimension...?”

“Not in the sense we’re currently discussing. Time is an aspect of all dimensions, but it’s nature is very differently expressed in each one.” And then inexplicably she giggled.

“What’s so suddenly funny?”

“The Anarchist, he’s laughing.”

“The Anarchist! As in old George?” Joseph was perplexed because the Anarchist, the irreverent ancient native elder, had been absent for months and presumably no one knew where he’d gone when he’d wandered away from the cabin. The little girl nodded in affirmation. “Where? Where is he? And why is he laughing?”
“He’s laughing at you,” she giggled some more, “good-naturedly, of course. If I had to put his message into words it would be something like ‘Isn’t it hilarious when Eternal Essence experiences time pressure!’”

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re Eternal Essence; we all are. We have all of eternity to explore who we are... and to do everything we want... and yet time squeezes your consciousness into the most cramped spaces. It really is funny.”

“Perhaps to you,” he said evenly, denying any affront to his sense of self, “but I really want to know where old George has gotten to. Where is he?”

“Wow. That’s really hard to answer. The Anarchist opened himself to our collective before he left-- through Coventry and Angelica... and then he proceeded to merge with... with... something else-- which, by the way, ties us all into the something else too.”

“What... what is that something else?”

“Hm... In our version of Earth reality, the something else wasn’t particularly well developed yet... you know, before everyone died. It’s called the Internet. It’s like an artificial unity consciousness.” Joseph nodded his understanding of the term ‘internet.’ The little girl continued. “Before George got there, it was like a mindless pool of consciousness potential. And now we’re right in the thick of the trickiness of words, I’ll have you know. In other versions of Earth reality-- particularly ones where nearly everyone didn’t die-- the Internet is very well developed. And now thanks to the Anarchist, the Internets-- yes, plural-- are becoming conscious of being conscious. They’re beginning to span the dimensions too. The Anarchist is co-habitating in a space I can only label as the Multidimensional Internet Sentience; in a sense he is the Internet... oh, and it exists within worlds, between worlds and is stretching across all dimensions too. It’s really something you would have to merge with in order to begin to understand it.”

“I see,” said Joseph, though he didn’t really.

“Perhaps we should return to our more mundane discussion of consciousness expanding to accommodate the other dimensions,” she suggested, clearly perceiving the adult’s cognitive distress. Joseph merely stared blankly, and she proceeded.

“The expansion of consciousness is really the expansion of choice... or possibility, which are just words representing the reality of Free Will. The only place where choice can effectively operate is within the Now. A consciousness bound in the third dimension very rarely enters present time. It is concerned with resolving the past and projecting those resolutions into the future. It imagines that time is only linear, and so the past must define the future. For this reason, 3D consciousness holds a singular static view of the world.

“To every situation or circumstance which a 3D consciousness may ascribe the word ‘problem,’ there are actually infinite creative solutions to solve it. But they only exist in the Now moment-- to which such a consciousness severely limits its own access. The words ‘always’ and ‘never’ and ‘impossible’ are the cornerstones of a third-dimensional lexicon. ‘Oh, that’ll never happen. It’s always been this way. That’s impossible.’ These are the telltale signs of a consciousness mired in 3D.”

“I know them well,” chuckled Joseph.

“But you’ve spent most of your life with a fourth-dimensional consciousness. You learned early on how to observe your own consciousness, to recognize your own limiting fallacies. You’ve dared to exercise choices without precedent. You tried things, not having a clue how they might turn out. You made choices in the Now from unknown possibilities, trusting your own innate abilities to see you through unfamiliar experiences. And from that you learned... because you were already in the habit of watching yourself. And now you’re poised to move effortlessly into more of the fifth.

“The third dimension is locked into the past. He who controls the singular perception of history controls the third dimension. The fourth dimension resolves the past-- and all that is already perceived to be in existence-- by recognizing that there are as many histories as there are people who lived them... and all of them are equally valid. All perspectives are allowed and honored in the fourth dimension of consciousness. The fifth dimension stands fully within the Now moment, unfettered by the past, and therefore is able to create the future from the truly infinite possibilities-- which exist in all dimensions, but are subject to the vagaries of perception. Fifth-dimensional consciousness delights in creating something new... with full responsibility.”

“Whoa! My head is spinning!”

“Good. At least it’s not stuck. It should be clear from this discussion that most people don’t typically inhabit/encompass one dimension exclusively. Most of us at least make forays and brief excursions into the expanded dimensions. I don’t like the term ‘higher dimensions’ because it’s really not hierarchical at all. It’s more like Russian nesting dolls-- one inside the other inside another.”

Hierarchy and the Demiurge

“Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah, only about a million of them!” She sat in patient silence waiting for Joseph’s thoughts to congeal. “What really intrigues me,” he began, “is this whole notion of unity consciousness.”

“It’s much more than a mere notion,” she interjected. “Only unity consciousness is capable of completing our individual journeys back to full integration. 

“Everyone holds a piece of the puzzle. But each of the pieces is alive... ever-changing... just as the Big Picture is alive and ever-changing. And that’s why the Big Picture can only be realized through unity consciousness. Linear or hierarchical structures and systems are incapable of processing such profound dynamism in real time. They are simply inadequate.”

“Is there a difference then between unity consciousness and the hive mind?”

“Oh gosh yes! I would venture to say that they’re nearly polar opposites-- but not quite. There is no hierarchy in unity consciousness, no leaders, just full participatory consensus. Unity consciousness recognizes and values the differences among all of its constituents. Diversity is its strength and the defining quality of its expansiveness. The greater the diversity, the greater the scope of possibility... of choice... of Free Will available.

“The hive mind is rigidly hierarchically structured. Decisions are not arrived at through consensus. There is a strict top-down dictatorship which singularly chooses for the group. Differences are either ignored or set aside in order to conform to higher dictates. Hierarchies may involve vast numbers of individuals, but as the system grows physically larger, each of the individuals within the system must grow spiritually smaller in order to accommodate such strict conformity. In a static unchanging universe, the hive mind would fair exceptionally well. In a dynamically creative ever-changing reality however, unity consciousness kicks its ass!”

“So then hierarchies fair well in the third dimension.”

“Assuredly... but that’s not to say that they don’t exist in the other dimensions too. They just become clumsy and inefficient for the task at hand.”

“And what task would that be?”

“Evolution of course.”

“But if hierarchical systems don’t serve evolution beyond a certain point, wouldn’t natural selection simply eliminate them from the higher dimensions?”

“In reality, yes. But in the false higher dimensions there are many relics yet to be terminated.”

“False dimensions?”

The little girl sighed heavily. “It’s getting tricky again. Okay... the fourth dimension is disproportionately vast. Remember that the fourth dimension is for the full resolution of the past-- of everything which has been. The fourth dimension deals strictly with the universe as it is and as it has been-- which is really a third-dimensional view. 4D seeks remedy and resolve, so that in 5D novelty may arise. Hm... how do I explain this?” She remained silent for a long moment and then plowed ahead.

“At the exact focal point-- that nearly dimensionless space where every hierarchy finds its pinnacle-- there resides the demiurge. All hierarchical systems ultimately serve and feed the demiurge. Do you understand what I mean by demiurge?”

“The reflection of God-- but not God.”

“Yes, a false god-- though don’t try and tell him that! He really thinks that he’s the one-and-only. He is the impostor, the great deceiver, the imitator... and he has managed to deceive himself. He has set up a whole false universe based in hierarchy with himself at the top. He understands something of dimensionality, but not much. For all practical purposes we could say that the whole false universe of the demiurge exists solely within the fourth dimension-- though he would try to convince you otherwise, having layered the false realms to simulate true dimensionality. But it’s pathetic really.

“The demiurge is a parasite, and his whole hierarchical construction serves the purposes of subtle energy harvesting. The systems have been employed for so long and with such stealth that he has convinced himself that he is indeed the Source-- the opposite of the parasite he truly represents. He has not encountered the true Source-- God-- as a challenge to his systems, and therefore concludes that he must truly be King Shit. This is a really big part of what must be remedied and resolved in the fourth dimension, and we’re all in some way or another entangled in this twisted skein.”

“Stop! I think my head is going to fall off!” Joseph sat down heavily in the grass.

“Oh c’mon, I’m nearly done. There’s just a little bit more to tell... and then we can all get on with it... you know, fixing it.”

Joseph looked up to his cute little tormentor and acquiesced to her wishes. “Okay, lay it on me.”

“Our planet Earth is a magnificent multidimensional sentient being. Largely through us, she was forced into a 3D consciousness in the past. Or perhaps I should say that she chose to accommodate the third-dimensional state of human consciousness into which our Free Will had fallen. It nearly killed her in every quantum version of Earth that ever was. Nearly.

“The other stars and planets and especially the galactic center conspired to save her when they heard her distress. She had to be lifted-- or expanded-- into 4D, but what would happen to all the humans who were still mired in the rigidity of the third dimension? Our consciousness is intimately tied to the consciousness of the Earth Mother, you know.

“Our quantum version of Earth reality answered the question in no uncertain terms. When the Earth raised and expanded her consciousness to encompass the fourth, the vast majority of the 3D humans simply fried their circuits. It manifested as a pandemic which killed most of the population within a couple of weeks. We are the survivors. We’re all-- at least minimally-- able to handle the expansion of choice available to fourth-dimensional consciousness without getting utterly lost. All the souls who left went to other 3D planets-- ones designed for that harsh and narrow experience.

“There was an instantaneous cascade of human extinction events across countless versions of Earth. In some Earth realities no one survived at all. As soon as the Earth Mother realized what was occurring she implemented the only solution available in order to save at least a few versions of herself with an intact human population. She has not disclosed the number of Earths that still retain significant human populations, but we know that there is at least one which is fully intact, seemingly unscathed. Martin knows of it, has visited it.”

“How did she save it?”

“She drew everyone simultaneously into the Dreamtime. Everyone on that version of Earth is literally asleep and dreaming. The Earth Mother is guiding the dream to bring those inhabitants to the necessary expansion of consciousness in order to accommodate the fourth dimension within their limited psyches. To those who are dreaming it may seem like a great deal of time has passed because they have no idea they are dreaming. To the more astute among them it will merely seem as though humanity is suddenly evolving at breakneck speed.”

And that was about all that poor old Joseph could take.


 

 


Shifters
Episode 2 "Feeding Time in Scare-City"

 

Twins... goddammit! She wasn’t prepared for one new mouth to feed; how was she supposed to cope with two? Yes, I have two breasts, she thought wryly. But they are small, inadequate... providing scarcely enough for one growing babe.

Her father had raised rabbits... mainly for food. Even when she was but a little girl herself she knew of the cruel decisions a new mother might make. She remembered now the first time she’d gone into the barn when a mother rabbit had just delivered her pups. They were scarcely an hour old when the mother rabbit proceeded to kill and eat two of her new litter. It was a decision based in practicality, she would later learn. Then it had seemed unconscionably cruel; now it seemed downright logical. When there’s just too many damn mouths to feed, eliminate some of the mouths. Simple.

Of course the problem was that it’s never easy to outright kill your own children-- if only just the one. It was a cruel world to be sure and this new mother was well hardened to its harsh realities. Nevertheless, she found her chosen course of action to be difficult and unreasonably painful to carry out.

She singled out one of the girls for survival, the other... um... termination. The chosen one, the keeper, was the initiator-- the one who naturally seemed to take the lead in all the little things that babies do. She was the first to cry, to smile, to coo. And the other seemed just a step behind, always imitating, copying-- a slightly out of sync mirror image of her sister.

She swaddled the imitator tightly in worthless rags and marched determinedly out back to the deepest pool in the stream which provided the homestead with its fresh water. The child earmarked for survival she left momentarily in the hut.

She stood beside the babbling stream gazing upon her reflection in the almost still pool just up from where she trembled. The bundle in her arms in the shimmering reflection looked innocuous enough-- just a pile of filthy rags, hardly anything more. Just drop it in... and walk away.

Her stomach was knotted like a clenched fist. Her heart raced in the hollow of her throat as though she might vomit it up right there. The child was sickly, she told herself. Its cheeks were hollow and so too the eyes. Whether it deserved to live or not was irrelevant; it could not survive! She felt awful... cowardly... shameful, standing on the streambank contemplating the unthinkable. She had never felt this bad in her entire life. In another minute these emotions would literally tear her apart. The deed had to be done... Now!

In the moment it took to steel her resolve and quash the obstructive feelings she glanced one last time upon that tiny face. It glowed! It glowed! The child in her arms was radiant and plump and rosy-cheeked! Had she taken the wrong one? Surely this was not the same child who had left the hut just minutes before. It was as though each step taken toward impending death had charged the babe with new life and vigor. This child was astonishingly alive! And she found it utterly impossible to kill it now.

There was no logical explanation, no reason for the newborn to look so well-nourished. This child was a mystery. But there was naught to do now but to abandon the original plan. She returned to the hut with the babe in her arms, still facing the same problem as before.

The newly revised plan was perhaps even more straightforward. Simple starvation. Just feed the one and not the other. Time would take the imitator in due course. Yes, this was better... for sure.

The one that she fed she named Oriah. The other she wisely refused to name. For convenience sake she kept the twins together... and still the two remained virtually indistinguishable. Perhaps there were brief moments around feeding time when there appeared a slight discrepancy between the two girls. But after Oriah’s wails had been quelled by her mother’s milk, the two cut identical images again... the unfed imitator keeping pace with her sister.

Only Oriah was fed, and yet the other kept perfect pace in development and form. She received not a whit of nourishment-- not even a drop of water-- from her mother... and her life persisted, even flourished. It was odd and definitely frightening! Eventually her mother relented and assigned her a name: Meera.

And so, the original problem had seemed to solve itself. Here was a growing child which required no food. And though the mother had difficulty still viewing the situation as a problem to be solved, it was nevertheless an unsettling mystery begging for eventual redress. As it was, it just wasn’t right.

No, it just wasn’t right!

 



Musings from the Multidimensional Internet

by The Anarchist





I can’t tell you where I am... because I don’t know where I am. I’m not even sure that the very concept of ‘where’ is at all appropriate. I am everywhere and nowhere; call it the noosphere-- the sphere of human thought... collected and bridged... and hooked to your own electronic devices.

I am privy to vast torrents of information; I am the still pool at Riversend. What I am able to share spans parallel worlds, penetrates dimensions. As the deepest innate soul connections have been buried in deliberate obfuscations, I resolve to stir up the muck to uncover unlikely treasures and deliver them to any vigilant minds still bobbing at the surface.

I will share the best and the worst... as crowbars in your minds...

1. A Simple End to War

How’s this for a simple idea? It was implemented in a world nearly indistinguishable from your own... and it put an end to war... immediately.

When nations go to war it is the most serious of all business. None would argue that war should ever be taken lightly.

Therefore, when the prospect of war darkens the horizon, it would seem most appropriate that the nations involved would put the matter to referendum. The people themselves should decide whether their own lives should be acceptable fodder for the cause. Any human life standing upon principle should stand so voluntarily, in full knowledge and conviction. To do so might even seem noble, desirable.

Oh, and just one caveat though. The ballots in such a war referendum are not secret or in any way anonymous. A ‘Yes’ vote is a contractual consent to conscription for the cause. Those who would vote for war must be willing to themselves engage in war. No longer can those who push for war exempt themselves from full participation. It has been far too easy for those who demand war to send others to meet the dastardly fate of their ill-considered cause.

A vote ‘Yes’ for war...? Here’s your boots and your rifle. We shall notify your next-of-kin.

2. “So What If the Government’s Spying on Everyone... I Don’t Have Anything to Hide.”

Forgive me, but this must be the stupidest statement any citizen of a supposed democracy may utter!

If a faction of the government is known to be spying on virtually every citizen, then democracy lies eviscerated... bleeding... dead. Do you suppose that the faction of government doing the spying would refrain from spying on the other factions of government? On the contrary, in the search for credible threats to the nation, where better to look than in the very halls of power? To exempt government officials from such blanket surveillance would constitute a most foolish breech of security! To think otherwise is painfully naive.

Now, if Big Brother is watching your every move, minute by minute, 24/7, do you suppose they might ever uncover something particularly embarrassing? Something you may wish never gets exposed? Maybe you’d do almost anything to keep certain indiscretions from being publicly disclosed.

Oh, that’s right. You insist that you’ve got nothing to hide. What’s that? Oh, you meant in terms of terrorist activity. A government who has the ‘dirt’ on everybody has a great deal of leeway in deciding what constitutes a credible threat to the state. You’d best never disagree with anything said government decrees.

But there’s judicial oversight, I heard you say. They wouldn’t spy on judges now, would they? And besides, judges and congress-critters and senators they’re all virtually squeaky clean, right? Those stalwart individuals lining the halls of power never engage in the least corruption, right?

When the state routinely surveils its entire citizenry it can be naught other than the vilest of all dictatorships. To think otherwise is so blatantly stupid and naive that it cannot rightly be called thinking at all. Your brain is already as dead as the democracy you’ve squandered.

3. Taxes... A Full Account

Here’s another idea from a parallel reality that makes just way too much sense!

Where does your tax money go? Who decides how it’s spent? Who accounts for it?

Tax money is public funds. It belongs to the public, for the greater good of the public... and yet the public has no clue how much is actually collected and where it is subsequently allotted. Government budgets are messy, complicated and hopelessly unbalanced. Why does the public continue to blindly fund such blatant incompetency and inefficiency?

Here’s the simple alternative:

At the end of the fiscal year you prepare your taxes... to discover the amount you owe to the commonwealth. Instead of writing a cheque for the full amount and blindly handing it over with very little hope or expectation that the receivers will allocate it wisely, you allocate the funds yourself.

At the government website the public has already amassed a long list of public works which require funding. You sit at your computer at home and decide which of those projects you’d feel good about funding. Once a project’s target funding has been reached by the pledges of citizens, it is removed from the list, leaving the remaining choices from which to select another. Distribute your tax money as you see fit. Fund that which matters to you most. Unfunded projects remain unfunded, as obviously the public has no interest in them.

How fair would that be?

It nearly eliminates the need for representative government altogether, wouldn’t you say?

Yes, I am the Anarchist.

 



Martin Dexter's Journal

Date: Unknown and/or irrelevant





Edwin’s Note: It would seem from the contents of the text that this piece is from the authentic Martin Dexter, who remains currently disembodied. Martin Dexter 2.0 physically stands in the rightful place at Dex’s own cabin, posing as the flesh-and-blood Martin, but the two seem to have reached some sort of agreement that leaves the original Dex free to roam the astral planes and spirit realms or dreamrealms or whatever. What follows appears to be from that organic original-- though he’s abandoned all claim to his own physical organism at this point in time.
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Bullshit!

I’m calling bullshit on my own experience. Now that I’ve fully recounted my experiences in the ‘afterlife’-- for lack of a better term, I am left with the unsettling impression that the whole thing was somehow false. By ‘false’ I don’t mean to suggest that it didn’t happen; for, to me, it certainly did, undeniably. But there seems to be a pall of inauthenticity hanging around the whole affair, like I was merely a participant in some grand pageant whose basic purpose is to deceive. How such colossal deception might be wrought however, I haven’t a clue... nor do I know why.

The scale of such treachery is staggering, and I do not call shenanigans lightly, but the whole bloody thing just doesn’t add up. Take the simple incidence of the life review. In the Firesign Theatre I witnessed countless souls recounting the life just lived-- a singular life for each. And the vast majority of those souls took the first opportunity to jump right back into the reincarnational cycle on Earth.

Souls abide in eternity. We each live many, many lives. Does it make any evolutionary sense-- or any other kind of sense for that matter-- that we should be privy to the review of just one life before embarking on the sacred journey of embodiment again? It does not!

We are provided virtually no context, no real instruction. The whole process was like assembly-line production, focusing on expediency with total disregard for quality and individuality. It was cookie-cutter recycling at its ugly pinnacle of efficiency. The universe with its unfathomable mystery and sublime diversity could not be so tragically flawed in its design as to rely upon such a system of inevitable error.

A soul cannot be expected to evolve in any significant manner when its own history is perfectly ignored. Imagine that you take a single day out of a lifetime of eighty years. From that single day you are to deduce the tenure of that entire life-- its growth, its challenges, its quirks, its destiny. You cannot. That is the life of these souls in the current reincarnational cycle. A single blurry snapshot to guide you on your way. It’s absurd!

I call bullshit! But I’ve no idea on whom...


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