From Whence They Came

by Thomas Zman

  All appears peaceful here in the city while above us transpires an unrelenting wrath, which reaps death and destruction across the face of the earth. We hear of the misfortunate who are caught up in the incessant fury of catastrophic events; events that perhaps don’t occur all at once, but do come in a methodical, yet unpredictable manner. This has all the world’s great minds deeply concerned. What the prophecies foretold of in Scripture has come to fruition, unraveling the enciphered writings of centuries ago. But if one were to try and predict what was to happen and where, the divine parable would surely prove them wrong. For this was the way of the Lord!

  Though there is talk of the surface, the main concern is towards preparing our own city for that which is to soon transpire here. And with all the time I’ve spent collecting and organizing my thoughts on the matter, the one thing I have noted most (here from my tower of residency) is that the Phoebians have slowly and almost inconspicuously withdrawn their importance from the city. No longer are they needed to perform the highly complex functions only they could once do. For through the steady inflow of highly advanced technological instrumentation, the systems once monitored by the aliens have been either replaced or are no longer necessary, and humans can now maintain the entire metropolis. I feel it is the time of some future come, where the Phoebians find themselves outmoded: their minds equaled by that of the microprocessor. Perhaps this too was long ago planned.

  Nayrb, Aylipsa, and Aman (whom I had a great kinship with through my studies in the Archives) have silently gone missing. Some say they have taken refuge in their own chambers beneath the intricate metropolis, chambers that I have only ever heard about and no one has ever seen. I’m led to wonder just what their homes look like. Strangely, it is forbidden to openly speculate as to the fate of our unearthly friends; as if it were a social besmirching, taboo if you will. I, however, sense the Phoebians are in a state of metamorphosis, and will later emerge as an entity of contrast to that of their true nature. I would not say this if I hadn’t the mind to, but my cerebral abilities have advanced -- as with the development of my child -- so that I, without the aid of any pseudo-pharmaceuticals, can now pick up on thoughts from the inner most conscience of anyone without effort . . . even the nebulous intelligibility of a Phoebian.

  I utilize my abilities at encounter sessions – filling the place of mediator since Phoebians no longer interact with humans. I try and help reduce some of the anxieties the populous feels during this time of Tribulation. I also therapeutically palliate the citizens by making myself available in work areas, social facilities, and especially the children’s developmental centers. I intermingle with the masses, offering direction and support if someone were to appear troubled. A ‘roving social worker’ one might call me. It is due to this busy schedule that I cannot frequent church as much as I should – as much as all the others of the city do – but instead, I tend to rely on my own form of private worship. (A poor rational on my behalf)

  My work allows me to explore that which is forbidden; and it’s through my intentions to do good that I justify probing my subject’s conscience – though often I find myself delving further than is necessary. Though I never discuss my mental intrusions with ‘close acquaintances’, the inner-mind of any individual is open for judgment: my judgment. This I do for my own entertainment and it is for this that I later repent heavily through prayer.

  With this in mind I often wondered if Kris had ever intruded upon the sacred soul of others? Dan possessed the ability; God rest his soul. But Kris? Is that why Dan chose him over me? Did Dan foresee that I could possibly ill use this ability? Do others possess the ability? Some must -- just able to conceal it. And just what became of the others? Those whom I had befriended over time here in Neuphobes? Burl, I imagine remains on permanent exhibition across the universe. I’m convinced our cosmic curator has by now retained enough knowledge from the stars to rival that even of the Phoebians. And then there was the impressive Gid, who has long since left this city for others, to contemplate the unfathomed depths of anything and everything. Jhal, too, has gone. Brad, whom I didn’t realize when we first met, was himself a pilot: a private flyer for the corporate elite. We see him around every now and then, though no love has as of yet beguiled his heart. Budd, though, has found love; in fact promotes it with his wife in their ‘lonely hearts dating service’. They too, are the proud parents of two fine children. Kurt, though he was bitter, has hopefully found a soothing remedy for his troubled soul. Thinking of troubled souls, I, at my darkest time, remember a patron by the name of Sigmund. God bless the man. His whereabouts now -- one could only guess. I, having been a fool in my delirium, mocked him. I beg forgiveness . . .

  The list concludes with the Fabians and a handful others from my past, for no newcomers have appeared in the city in quite some time. It is at these times (as I find myself presently) that I like to sit and contemplate the days passed, not only of those here in the city, but of those spent on the surface as well. Of days away from this place; days, which shall forever remain etched upon my soul.

  And through all this there is now my second family. My lovely wife, April who affirms me in my endeavors, never questioning my practices -- for it is within her that I confide (almost everything). She is good, and often when she is home will check in on me, touch me gently to remind me of her love, then leave me be with an understanding kiss. She is content with her life (I needn’t search her conscience): a busy life, which consists of maintaining our household and helping out in the many social sectors in Neuphobes. But above all this, she spends her time in the city’s child development centers where she is foremost in our son’s life, and the lives of other children.

  And now, as I sit here in my study, closing out my thoughts, I see our son in the playroom on the other side of this glass. I look upon him proudly for he is part of us. His milky white complexion, the soft eyes and innocent curls, and the smile that is always on his face make him a sight of true happiness. He is exploring skills of imagination, his little hands sculpt the levitating jell into forms only his mind can understand, sculpting as he will someday with the rest of his generation to help form the new tomorrow . . .

  The Event

  Joshua ran through the park, the Celestial Gardens, under its low-lying lavender trees, and out onto the byways of Neuphobes. The cavernous city towered around him as he ran between and betwixt the walkways of orange and blue, which transported the more leisurely. The transient walks were too slow for Joshua, as they were for any youth in a hurry, so he relied on the swiftness of his strong feet against the bedrock of the metropolis, skirting around large protrusions of jagged crystals to carry him to his destination – to April and myself. He fled down the long avenue, under an archway, then crossed a flowing tributary and the Mainway with the surefootedness of a marathon runner. Under another archway and around the great support column he raced while all around him towered the cylindrical buildings of ominous distinction. In the workings of his mind the city was closing in on him; an anomalous change was taking place in the surrounding structures he had known all his life. The air seemed to be thinning, becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and he gasped for more and more in an attempt to quench his needs. But no matter how much he drank in, his needs would seemingly never be satisfied.

  The city glistened and swirled as Joshua ran and ran, though seeming never to reach the reassuring familiarness of the Tenement Towers. Those who saw him thought him just another boy at play, a lad in pursuit of some bizarre fantasy. No attention was given him nor the other children he had been with, each running through the city, each taking different ways, their fastest ways to their loved ones. But all would soon enough find out the reason for their haste, for each traveled with the same news. The time-- yes the time -- had come that all the city had been awaiting, and the news was to be spread by the mouths of young, the innocent firstborn without blemish upon their soul.

  When Joshua burst through the door I immediately stood up on a reflex of
anger, ready to discipline the child. But my son was obviously near hysterics, gasping, trying to utter the reason for his actions.

  “It is time! It is time!” he cried. “We were in the Gardens, in the Great Field. We heard it! We heard it in the distance. We heard what everyone has been talking about – waiting for. What you said would ‘some-time-come’. What you have told me stories of, father. The bell! The bell tolls!”

  And with that Joshua collapsed, exhausted, onto the sofa.

  April came rushing in from the other room “What’s all the commotion!”

  “The bell tolls. The bell tolls!” I said, grabbing her by the arms. “Holy God! The bell tolls!”

  April was astounded. No words could escape her lips. She just looked at me; her eyes alight with great happiness – and fear. I hugged her tightly in an explosion of love and in our minds we envisioned the New World. Together we wept with joy that we should experience this great event; and our hearts turned towards our son, for it was known that the young were favored over all!

  I turned to the video screen, but there was nothing. The news was to be spread by mouth. I thought of Frank and Constance, and the Fabians, so I called them. But there was no answer from either. They must already be joining the masses. Quickly I gathered up our weary son in my arms and the three of us fled. All along down the hallway April and I banged on doors, alerting our neighbors as to the good news. They, too, gathered themselves together and followed us.

  We went out and into the city, all the while Joshua asking questions:

  “Father, why must the city change? How does it change? Are the buildings going to disappear? Where will they go?”

  I had already on several occasions explained Scripture to him; but some of his questions were not covered in them. So I repeated what he already knew and relied on my ability to reason an all-inclusive answer as best I could.

  “The Revelation has been occurring on the surface; now it is time for our part in it. This is what all the people of Neuphobes have anticipated and prepared for since long ago. This is the reason for the Sanctification. This and all the other cities around the world will soon be as one and the people shall enter a New City, Heaven -- where God shall reign!”

  We took our places on the byways that had just a short while before been a place of few, now filled with seekers who spoke of the news that a neighbor’s child had brought. We were proud to be among them, saying that it was our son who had come home to us with the news. All had prayed that we would see the blessed event in our lifetimes; and now it had come, and I trembled, for judgment was soon to be upon us all.

  The phosphorescent walks that had once sufficed transporting us with no need of urgency now seemed slow moving, and as we neared the Gardens became increasingly burdened with more and more seekers. And though there were great numbers who came forth from their homes and places of employment to witness The Event, all proceeded along in an orderly fashion, not one hurrying ahead nor holding another back.

  Oddly enough no auto-hoppers hummed overhead; the NIMS, along with the Phoebians, had all disappeared. The walks flowed an unending processional from every imaginable direction; all flowing into the pathways of the Gardens from all points around, for the Gardens had twelve majestic white gates of entrance. We exited the mobile-walks; the gathering masses now using their own steps, hurried steps, onto the pathways under the small forest’s groves of lavender trees. We could all hear the bell toll, and our hearts raced with anticipation; the slow, rhythmic tong of it sending chilling shivers throughout my already quivering body. We came upon the great crimson field and I looked around in wonder, beholding the multitudes who had gathered from afar, from across the crimson field, to converge upon its cobblestone court where the Temples lay.

  Joshua was excited and fidgety, so I let the child down on his own and continued my teachings to calm him:

  “Voices of angles will soon announce the Savior.” I gestured to the above with my hand. A seeker traveling beside us smiled – “trumpets from heaven will proclaim His arrival . . . “

  Our son’s mind was alive with divine imaginings -- as was all who were gathering. My mind in particular was brilliantly vivid, for not only did I see before us what all could see, but I sensed (envisioned) the city around us and was capable of describing events hidden from the common.

  We stopped just outside the cobblestone court of the Seven Temples. No one dared go nearer, for it was now known as Sacred Grounds. The masses flowed in behind us, all talking and gesturing with excitement; thousands strong, all crowding onto the field, which was filled to capacity and could hold no more. All the while was heard the tolling bell, though the bell had now begun to slow its time. A gentle wind, too had been stirring in resonance with the bell; a wind the likes of which had never before been felt in the city, a wind ushering in change -- though now easing upon itself, easing until finally it ceased, as did too the bell.

  With Joshua no longer in my arms, I could observe more freely. I looked about for familiar faces, seeing many acquaintances with whom I’d previously spoken to on occasion and informally, but there was no sign of our close friends (though I knew of their presence).

  I held April tight to me, Joshua stood before us; together we bound as one on this apocalyptic occasion. April was silent, standing attentively and observing all that transpired. Our son, on the other hand, asked many questions; and it was his last question that I had no answer for.

  Suddenly the skies became portentous and a stormy song wailed round the city. The emerald above drew in upon itself, leaving dark, ominous clouds to loom. Now from this newly formed sky swept down a second wind, an eerie wind, which howled through the canyons of Neuphobes, resounding a great tumultuous rumbling. A quake shook the ground beneath our feet and the entire city ruptured with a great upheaval! Then (I envisioned) hundreds of locust -- bearing the faces of our alien emissaries -- emerged from deep beneath the city, from beneath the bedrock and plazas and their secret births at the distant center of the city. And they stood above from whence they came, allowing the air to dry their wings. None of this was visible to the masses from the protection of the Gardens, all shielded by the dense groves of trees that surrounded us.

  Again a silence fell over the Gardens; though some of the masses’ murmurings could be heard. Then slowly from beyond there came up a buzzing of new wings, the wings of locusts; their exoskeletons’ of body armament had formed and hardened. The swarm moved through Neuphobes, converging upon the Transmutation Complex. And when the last of them had entered into the Complex a quandary of trumpeting came forth.

  Neuphobes ignited -- burned as pillars of fire and roaring vortices of flaming consumption spread; engulfing, vaporizing everything within their path. The fires incinerated building upon building, walkways and columns, and everything ever built of the great metropolis. The Gardens and all the citizens within were left untouched however, spared from the infernal wrath. The firestorm then subsided as quickly as it had begun and when we beheld its ending no city was to be found; burned to the ground it was, only ashes and rubble remained -- save for the Gardens and the Transmutaion Complex reaching skyward.

  There now lay above us the bottom of the ocean, the bounds of our new sky. The smoke and sediment had been absorbed up into it, and the air had become cool and fresh. People breathed unburdened breaths, drinking in the new air as if it were a spiritual wine. And as these events came to pass they did likewise around the world in all Phoebian cities beneath the earth’s surface.

  And so the skies had settled and there was seen far in the distance, above the Complex, a great shaft extending up into the waters. It was then but a moment and clouds rushed down through the shaft to gather around the Complex, which then in a flash was consumed by its own brilliance and disappeared into the above. In its wake all beheld a lighted passage, which quickly widened, illuminating the skyline with the shining sun. The light was all around, warm and comforting, and there was known day upon the Gardens – but darkness upon
all the surface . . .

  Now I reflected in these moments since not one, not even our son, could express their feelings about these events. And I thought of the fresh air that I, and all the others now breathed; how it satisfied my nose, setting it a tingle with its sweetness. No longer was there the heavy, nutrient-laden air of earlier; but instead light breezy freshness. I had come to believe that our bodies underwent a change to adapt to the ‘alien atmosphere’ of Neuphobes. But now I knew this to be untrue. Our bodies were the same as they had always been – it was only the atmosphere that had changed.

  The newly found sunshine bathed us with its divine brilliance. The transformed Phoebians and their Complex were gone. The Complex no doubt transmogrified into a Mother Ship, transporting our captors (who, it was prophesied, would reap a final destruction upon the surface) to nether parts of the cosmos – freedom for them once again. The sunshine reflected off the city’s tributaries that crisscrossed the devastation, the waters having turned clear and sparkling in pureness. These new streams coursed through the ruins with a life giving glory and along the banks already could be seen green beginning to sprout. Into the Gardens did these waters flow and there issued forth fruits from the trees. The fruits formed rapidly and in abundance and the people nearest them began to pick the fruits and eat of them. They handed off pieces to others about the crowds, who in turn handed them on, and all around there was a pause in the miracles as a feast ensued as the fast had ended.