“Dad, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I don’t know what to think,” Simon said, taking a deep breath. Then he spilled out the first thing that came into his mind. “Oddly, yesterday I was thinking about Moloch, the early Canaanite king in the Bible who made his people offer child sacrifices. It made me think of Columbine, which made me wonder whether anything is getting better. Human behavior is going backward, barbaric behavior is growing.”
“The shooter must have been on meds. Did you know that most mass killers are either on meds or trying to get off them? I think I’ve told you reporters aren’t allowed to say anything about medication issues since the 1996 Medical Privacy Act. So the public doesn’t realize legal drugs are nearly always a factor. If people knew doctors summon Dr. Jekyll, wouldn’t they put the blame for these crimes on the doctors and the drug companies? Would parents allow them to put their kid on meds? Doctors who don’t fathom the depth of the human mind are legal drug pushers! They open their patients to possession by robbing them of their free will! The slaughter will escalate until people go after the cause—legal guns and drugs. Sorry to rant, Dad, but reporters are muzzled! Drives us nuts! I’m sorry Mom is so upset. Tell her I love her. I’ll call Sarah in Rome. She’ll be utterly devastated.” He paused and then said quietly, “Dad, we want to have children.”
“I am sure you will, Simon, because you and Sarah can contribute in the world. But,” David’s voice was dead and metallic. “Imagine if you raised a baby and your adorable small child was butchered after going off bright-eyed to school! This is an abomination! Most of the kids who died were in the first grade. How could anybody kill them? The media wonders if the shooter was bullied in school, but I think you’re on the right track. He probably was on stimulants by age six, anti-depressants as a teenager who raided the parent’s liquor cabinet—booze, drugs, computer addiction, and guns by age twenty. Ironically, the kid began with murdering his mother, the one who should have done something about his arsenal. The neighbors say she used to take him to the shooting range where they both practiced. Will the NRA still have their way after Newtown? I suppose so, since it happened in Connecticut where gun manufacturing has enriched the state for a few hundred years. I don’t know what else to say, Simon, I’m numb! Have you heard some people say the world is coming to an end December 21? The Newtown arrow of doom feels like a harbinger. How can we go on when little children are murdered in school?”
“Hmmm, Dad,” Simon responded thoughtfully, “the incident is like a Greek tragedy—matricide by a young man who slaughters small children. I can see why it’s upset you so much: when things like this happen, Americans are told by their pastors to pray and ask for forgiveness, but what good does that do? When terrible things like this occurred in the ancient world, people wrote about it to inspire people to seek the causes and meaning in the human mind. Instead, I’m sure Newtown will be the perfect inspiration for Hollywood movies and sleazy crime novels.”
He gazed out the window at the ancient and troubled city then continued, “When Sarah and a friend talked about the Maya end of the world, I teased them and said they were acting like New Age airheads. Well, here I am in Jerusalem for the tenth time since 1999, and I feel a death grip. Desperation pervades everything, stark meaninglessness. The Israelis don’t give a damn about peace as they cynically grab more territory and transform the Palestinians into chained dogs. Syria may be the next tinderbox in the Middle East or maybe Egypt. I haven’t shared my feelings with Sarah lately because I don’t want to worry her. Your call reminds me we have to talk about these painful things. We must share our feelings. I wish I could come home for the holidays; instead I’m stuck here alone. Madness is breaking out everywhere that is collapsing our world.”
“Yes, I know, my only son. You remind me to start every day with blessings. I’m glad you and Sarah have each other’s support. Thank goodness Sarah is safe in Rome doing her work, and Rose and I can go to Shelter Island to find peace. I am happy to hear your voice right now. Just think,” David said as his voice cracked, “Newtown parents will never hear the voices of their children again. I can’t imagine not hearing your voice. Here is something I’ve always wanted to say to you: The world has been deteriorating since you were born and now it’s getting radically worse. I am grateful for every moment I’ve had with you, with Jennifer, and your mother. I look forward to many more. When I go into my heart in the morning to find my center, you are there. No matter what happens, I love you beyond time. It’s impossible to understand the world, yet we always have love. We will call Sarah too. How terrible this happened so close to the holidays, so soon after your wedding, how terrible. I hope you can be home soon.”
“Sarah, it’s me,” Simon said, waiting to hear by the tone of her voice if she knew what had happened. When she began to speak, he could tell she’d been crying.
“Simon, did you hear about it, the children? I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m in such a state of shock that I can barely move. What’s going on in the United States? Other mass killings shocked me, but this is incomprehensible! I do feel like the world is ending. Oh, I’m sorry, I know you hate that. When innocent children are murdered in school, it strips hope away! But forgive me,” she said slowing herself down as she imagined his deep brown eyes flashing with blue. “How are you? How are you handling this news? Can you come home? Oh, I’m sorry I said that. I’m okay. But maybe some people will change their plans after an event like this?”
“As much as I would love to, when the world goes mad, reporters can’t change their plans for personal reasons.” He paused. “Sarah, let me apologize for ranting about that end of the world stuff. I have been thinking about it myself! An event like this turns my mind to conspiracies, and I can be crazier than either you or Claudia. Newtown’s timing is very suspect. What if someone triggered this guy to make people feel like the world is ending? It’s too sinister: psychologically disturbed young people on meds unleashed as killing machines using weapons provided by Mom to kill at key moments. Way-out conspiracy theorists say these killers have chips in their minds that program them. Maybe that’s true, yet the alarmist blood-soaked media is just as guilty. When I examine mass murders since the 1980s the timing always gets my attention; they often happen at the ideal moment to traumatize the public. The more sinister and bizarre they have become, the more people react by turning in to zombies. Are you surprised to hear me say things like that? When my dad told me about Newtown, the first thing I thought was that it is the perfect elite drama designed to keep us in fear. How do they insert these violent films into our world?”
Sarah felt a great sense of relief hearing Simon’s words. “Simon, I’m glad to hear about your change of heart! This means I can talk to you about my feelings about the end times. I’d feel like this even if I’d never heard about the Maya, never talked to Claudia. Speaking of conspiracies, the media repeats twenty children, twenty children. It grated in my ears and then I got it! Twenty is the big Mayan number, since the Calendar is composed of twenty symbols for the days—twenty primary archetypal paths in life. I wonder if the massacre cast asunder the primary archetypal elements of reality? Is it a tipping point? I can imagine what this event means to you, since we both wonder how evil enters the world. The ultimate abuse, child sacrifice, frightens me. It’s too dark for me, so it helps to verbalize it. I can’t hold this horror inside anymore; something is wrong, very wrong.”
Simon hated hearing the pain in her voice; he wished he could be there to hold her. “I have more to say, lots. We have to counter the dark by celebrating the beauty in our lives. My father always does that, and he just reminded me of it again. I’d like to share something that happened to me just before I heard about Newtown, and thank goodness it was before. Yesterday I went to the Tomb of Mary and had what I’d describe as a full-blown mystical experience. It changed me; I saw things. There is more going on in this world than I ever imagined. Confronted with evil, maybe our world will not end if we widen our perspective? I think
you already have.” He mused. “Maybe women do it more easily?”
She responded slowly, her voice low and rueful. “The world of those children just ended, the joy of their parents gone, the return of the slaughter of the innocents. I’m happy you had a mystical experience because I know there’s more to life. It doesn’t have to be that way in the U.S. We will be happier together if we can see and share more.”
“Then I’ll share more about it,” he said very softly, his breath barely audible on the phone. “My experience at the tomb has made me know we will have a child—soon, I hope. If I’d heard about Newtown first, I’d be going in the opposite direction. An event like this would convince me to never have a child. But life is about life and death. If I have a god, it is personal courage. It’s time to put myself on the line.”
Sarah smiled, even as tears blurred her eyes. She too knew they would have a child.
David and Rose usually stayed in the city during the holidays to be with friends, but this December was different. They endured a few days of trying to avoid TV, but their friends called constantly to talk about Newtown, so they decided they had to get out of the city. As they drove across Long Island to Shelter Island, the proximity of the Connecticut shore reminded them of the crime scene. The only way to avoid hearing people talk about praying to God was to avoid the radio and TV; the crucifix hung over the entire Eastern U.S.
As they rode the ferry, wind blasted the old boat, which cracked and strained as if it was dying. Rose looked eighty, her deep red scarf only accentuating the dark circles under her eyes, and David worried about her. I wonder if she’s thinking about the gas ovens and Jews being loaded on trains? She was. They arrived at the house and traipsed into the cold hallway, wrapped themselves in blankets, and shared some brandy by a struggling fire. Radiators creaked and groaned as they began to warm up the rooms, and the old well-built house sheltered them from the angry wind. When the main room attained sixty-two degrees, Rose went to snuggle upstairs, and David went to his study to set another fire.
He made a kindling nest under a huge oak log in the soft light of the Tiffany lamp. He lit crumpled newspaper with a long match and blew on the small flame, which exploded. Poof! If only I could change the world as easily as I can make a fire. I have to think this all the way through. If I don’t, the world is going to unravel and the whirlwind will come. I know the meaning of the murder of twenty innocents. Global elite bastards. You think I went away long ago, but I haven’t. I’ve been watching every god-damned one of you every day of my life: I wondered whether you’d dare bring Moloch back to service your desires, you bloodthirsty curs. You won’t get away with this—I am here.
The oak log crackled when the flames turned the bark to fire. Watching out for sparks, he pulled a slim leather case out from under the base of the Tiffany lamp and removed a key. He walked over to a tall and narrow, nearly invisible cabinet in the corner. Carefully he inserted the key into a small brass keyhole. The narrow door unlocked when he turned the key. It looked empty; however, he deftly stuck his index finger into a round hole in the back. The back was hinged and moved to the side, revealing a hidden chamber. It has been so many years since I’ve seen it, so many years. A fist-sized quartz crystal skull with deep eye sockets and big teeth nestled in a wreath of lime green and orange parrot feathers grinned at him. Ah, it is the same, the skull of Dzibichaltun—keeper of nine dimensions.
He lifted out the icy-cold skull and cradled it in his hands to warm it while caressing its large cerebellum. Golden firelight flickered in the center and generated electrical signals, brain waves. The last time David had held it was before Simon’s birth thirty-six years ago, yet he was always aware of it. It was given to him by his teacher, don Alejandro, when he went to Mexico to study spiritual teachings forty years earlier. As he held it up to the firelight to study its planes and occlusions, it woke up. Don Alejandro told me things will be or will not be. I weigh the world; I judge.
Don Alejandro had given him instructions with the skull, and he still remembered every word. This is miraculous. I can fulfill my duty just before the end of the Calendar! I’ve waited so long for the sign—twenty. Those bastards! Just think how amazed people would be if they knew the whole truth! David knew the world would be shocked to realize that global elite insiders had known all about the Calendar’s end, shocked to realize the elite had anticipated the end for four hundred years! He had always thought it odd that people couldn’t see something so obvious: When the conquistadors, Jesuits, and Dominicans plundered the villages and massacred the people, they gathered their books and calendars and brought them back to Europe. For many years secret cabals studied the records in their cloistered libraries to dissect the cycle to get the Maya galactic knowledge. The Maya timeline indicated when Earth would go back into phase with the Milky Way Galaxy. If people lost hope, the synchronization would fail. The priests and conquistadors cleverly described bloody Aztec sacrificial rituals to keep the people from noticing that Mass is the blood sacrifice. They tortured people over four hundred years, polluted the world, sexually abused anyone in sight, and killed unmercifully.
David put the skull on the table and went back to the cabinet for a leather notebook. Now the test. The notebook fell open on his knees. His eyes were drawn to beautiful scrolled red symbols and letters on skin-colored parchment. The skull in his right hand buzzed and vibrated. The notebook contained the specific list of all the things the elite planned to accomplish by December 21. If they made it, Earth’s multidimensional fields would collapse and lose form. If these things didn’t happen on time, reality could reweave itself into the golden threads of Earth’s dream.
Pole shift caused by a discontinuity in the core
Nuclear meltdown that destroys the oceans
Complete melt at the North and South poles
Total war between Judeo-Christianity and Islam
Death of love in the human heart
Human physical form is distorted and gender confusion rampant
Elite weather control blocks sound waves from the universe
Humans forget how to co-create life with the divine
Electronic pollution blocks high energy from the Galactic Center
David had forgotten how scientific the list was. It had seemed outlandish when he reviewed it thirty-six years ago when he couldn’t even begin to imagine such things; he didn’t even know what they were. Now he could see that great forces had been conspiring to make all this happen; millions knew the truth. Elements of this list had happened, but not enough to end the world by December 21. Fukushima was a warning bell, but not the death of the oceans.
He closed the notebook and vowed: I’ll be with this skull at dawn on the winter solstice.
David still remembered what don Alejandro had said, which could never be written down: “David, you are among a few initiates given this knowledge. When you activate the skull at the end of the Calendar, do not think you carry the burden alone. Thirteen of you will judge whether the evil ones have taken over your planet, the heartless ones who seek only pleasure and riches.
“If the list is not fulfilled, an infusion of power from the higher dimensions into the lower ones will begin reweaving the dream of Earth. I warn you, however, this convergence will be so intense that many will not be able to bear it. Those who can will experience life in nine dimensions. This includes your children and grandchildren. I warn you, David, reality will be so chaotic and insane through 2016 that few will be able to stand it. But many will. You will. Your children will. You must because anything is better than the end of a world, anything.”
The skull was buzzing. At first he thought he was crazy, but for sure it was. Is it trying to speak to me? His temporal bones vibrated with the skull, and a stream of thoughts came through a hologram, a diamond that emitted sound: I am the Primum Mobile. Feel my tightly woven cord enter your body from deep in Earth and move through your energy centers, out through the top of your head, and into the spinning Galactic Center. Da
vid, listen to primordial sound. The game is over! The evolutionary push, nine phases of creation, completed November 28, 2011. The epiphany, a galactic superwave, approaches your solar system. When cosmic consciousness arrives, matter regenerates. In your zone, screaming metal parts vibrate within the iridescent hides of dying dinosaurs, the completion of the extinctions. Listen to them gnash their teeth! Tell them to surrender and leave their bodies to avoid the maelstrom.
David took a deep breath and came back into focus, but he couldn’t register what had deposited in his mind. He was disturbed by what he was feeling. It was as if a huge black machine made of metallic cords and whirring drives was reading him. I wonder if this is the elite computer—the inter-dimensional brain that monitors everything and mind-controls people. Maybe it ran out of fuel?
31
The Pierleoni Garden
On the evening of December 21, 2012, light suffused Claudia’s elegant apartment. The marble floors glowed in the subtle light of recessed designer lights. When Sarah walked in, her eyes were drawn to reflected golden flames in dripping beeswax wall sconces. The sheen on the new glossy embossed satin fabric of Claudia’s loveseat was sensual like excited skin. Sarah loved how going to Claudia’s apartment felt like visiting the eighteenth century.
“Sarah, I’m so happy to see you, and I promise to never call you darling again. Do you love my new satin coverings? I found the fabric in Milan and waited nearly a year for it.” Sarah admired everything and then they sat down as Claudia got right into it. “Here we are, the big moment; has anything really changed?”
“Well, of course, many things have changed. We are meeting to discuss the unspeakables, to unmask evil. I’m tired of the repression. I’m ready, Claudia. Tell me all about your love affair with Armando. I mean all of it.”
Revelations of the Ruby Crystal Page 32
