"So those underground lodges I was in... " said Linda. A memory of her time spent trapped in the blackness scraped across her mind like a rusty chain.
"Those belonged to the terrestrial Grays I mentioned earlier, Madam. The Life had been on Earth since the God's War that destroyed so much of the Solar System. They left, en masse, just before your prime-time exposé."
"But it sounds like those guys are just the tip of the iceberg in terms of all the alien species The Families know about," said Linda.
"Yes," said William. "Alien peoples have visited Earth for many reasons over the millennia. Some have been traders. Others have come looking for resources. In recent decades, many have come as tourists or observers. It is known throughout the Cosmic Community that the Earth/Human system is at a major choice point, and this is of great interest to most member groups, especially since so many of them have already been down the same path humans have taken. Some... " William leaned forward and lowered his voice a bit, "... some have even chosen to live out entire lives in human bodies."
Linda's face went dark at the thought of that.
William flashed his eyebrows. "Yes, Madam," he continued. "The distinctions between 'alien' and 'human' begin to break down rather rapidly when we think of a 'person' as an individual concentration of self-reflexive mind that can manifest in many forms, in many places, in many levels. Your husband is untangling this particular thread as we speak, and doing a fine job of it, if I may say so."
Linda sat forward in her chair. "What?" she said. "You know what Cole's up to down there? I saw him on the coast. I couldn't understand-"
The Fisherman raised his hand. "He is well, Madam, as are your children, and he's fighting the good fight, as are we all. To say more would create far too much distraction for our work here."
Linda sighed deeply, wiped away a tear. "He's just..." she said, shaking her head. "I just miss him, William. You know? He needs me. We're a team."
William nodded. "I do know, Madam. Let us continue, so that you can get back to him."
Linda held her questions and said nothing more.
"So. Tourism. Curiosity. A bit of resource exploitation here and there, by some of the more material-bound ETs, since they're in the neighborhood. Technology transfer. As you saw with the Herschel Colony, we in the so-called Breakaway Civilization have been benefitting from the transfer of alien technologies for a long time now. That's one thing Spud's people were very much involved in. The transfer has come in fits and starts, always with limitations and strict agreements, and they've shared only a small portion of what they actually have, but they've given us the ability to make a starting move, not only in the physical bands, but beyond."
"So far, William, these all sound like things we might do," said Linda.
"Indeed, Madam. But aliens have been up to other things as well, and these activities point to goals and intentions which might seem more, well... alien." William stopped to smile at his own wordplay. "They have, for instance, allowed for huge numbers of sightings over the years, and yet have not performed that oft-wished-for act of landing on the White House lawn and asking to be taken to our leader. They've made repeated warnings about our collective human activities on the Earth. And they've behaved in ways both charming and cold, loving and indifferent, helpful, absurd, and obstructionist, interacting with humans without their consent and against their will, and causing pain and trauma on the one hand, and emotional and spiritual development on the other."
Linda closed her eyes for a moment to think. She breathed deeply and let the implications come together in her mind. She opened her eyes. "Right," she said. "We focus so much on you bad guys and your cover-up that we forget that the aliens must be complicit in the secrecy. So on the one hand, they keep flitting about in the sky, letting us see them, exposing themselves, teasing us. But on the other hand they could come out in the open and end the mystery at any time. And they don't."
William raised an eyebrow, smiled slightly, as though Linda had just scored a big point. "Quite," he said.
"So what's the goal of all that, William? Why do they do that?"
William's eyes grew larger with excitement. "Because that, Madam, is how one sends an invitation."
13.7
Mary lay on her bed, her hands raised over her face to ward off her father's blows. Her father stood bent over the bed, his right fist raised, as if deliberating whether to hit her one last time. His other hand reached downward, to touch her where he should not touch. But he did not strike her, and Mary did not scream. They were frozen in a moment that would not end, bathed in a bright white light.
She'd seen them come in, four little beings all in a row. Floating through the window she'd meant for her escape. Floating to a stop right beside her father. Behind them came another being, this one slightly taller, robed in red, hood thrown back to reveal his huge, bald head. This fifth being slid up to her father's side and touched his forehead with a short, dark wand. The wand was tipped in silver fire and almost impossible to see directly.
Her father stood straighter in response, removing his hand from her shorts, lowering his raised fist. In a moment he was standing at attention, staring blankly into the space before his eyes, head slightly lowered like a scolded little boy, as if there could be such a thing as shame or sorrow or penitence in one such as he. The fifth being raised a hand and drew it down in front of her father's face and his eyes closed. It was how one closed the eyes of the dead.
The four-in-a-row took positions in front of and behind her father and they began to move as one, her father and the beings together, floating up and back out the window, sliding up a hazy beam of blue, sparkling light that angled into the sky. In a moment they were gone.
Mary could see Danny, standing still in the doorway, his face wide with horror. The fifth being waved his long-fingered hand at him. Danny's eyes fell closed and his face softened. The being turned to Mary and used the wand to direct her hands down from their defensive pose and back to her side. He regarded Mary with his huge, insectoid black eyes, then cocked his head slightly. Something about the gesture moved Mary deeply. She knew, in that instant, that this being, whatever he was, was a person. She remembered that she'd seen him many, many times before. And she realized that she loved him. The being reached out and used the power in his hands to bathe Mary with gentle waves of relaxation and peace.
Mary closed her eyes and rested. She realized that something about this felt strangely familiar, as if she'd lived through this very moment before.
13.8
"In a nutshell, Madam, the aliens' first and primary concern is the evolution of consciousness. That's what the Cosmic Community is up to. That's what the member groups are up to. That's what the Cosmos is up to. That's what the whole of reality is up to. Methods and tactics will vary wildly depending on whom we are talking about, but if you are looking for the underlying meaning, goal, purpose, or intention of these alien peoples, it's the evolution of consciousness, seeking always the expansion, exploration, increase, and fulfillment of all conscious potentials, seeking always to add to the consensus meta-meta reality of the Cosmic Community, seeking always more growth, more love, more maturity, more wisdom, more life, more experience, more playfulness, more creativity, more diversity, more novelty, more awareness, more wholeness, more understanding, more acceptance, more peace, more joy, and more ecstasy."
Linda shifted in her chair and smiled. "That sounds nice," she said.
William nodded. "Naturally, the Cosmic Community keeps tabs on the rise and progression of any and all self-aware species, especially when a species begins to take steps that would bring it into contact with other members. Increased self-awareness adds a multiplier effect to consciousness, increasing the rates of change, expansion, and evolution. When a group or species crosses over into what is deemed 'self-awareness,' it attracts the attention of others in the multiverse."
"Kinda like that old idea about how they pick up our TV shows out there," said Linda, nodding h
er understanding.
"A bit," said William with a smile. "Save that human self-awareness was picked up by the Cosmic Community many millennia ago. In any event, your mention of TV shows is a notable synchronicity. I assume, Madam, that you watched the Star Trek shows as a child?"
Linda nodded. "Sure," she said.
"Good. And do you remember that the officers and crew, as members of the United Federation of Planets, as they explored the galaxy, operated under a mandate that prohibited them from interfering with the internal development of alien planets? It kept them from taking actions in planetary affairs that would shut off possible choices for the indigenous populations. And it kept the crew from making their existence known to native peoples before they were sufficiently advanced, such that a clash of cultures would not do the natives irreparable harm. Do you remember?"
"It was called the Prime Directive, wasn't it William?"
"Yes it was, Madam. And the starship crew's most solemn oath was to follow this Prime Directive?"
"I guess I knew that," said Linda. "What's your point?"
The Fisherman nodded. "My point is this, Madam: the producers of this program were strongly... encouraged, shall we say... to include this notion of the Prime Directive as part of the show's premise. Rather a large source of funding was put at stake, you see, to which the producers very much wished to have access. Fortunately, the Prime Directive was in alignment with the values of the show's creative team, it being a bit of progressive wisdom garnered from human history."
"So The Families were funding television programs?"
William flashed his eyebrows. "It wasn't us doing the encouraging, Madam," he said. "It was those whom we've termed 'aliens.'"
Linda stopped and thought for a moment. "So you're saying..."
"I'm saying that, from the beginning, it was made precisely clear to us that our very future as a member of the Cosmic Community hinged on the necessity of choice for all involved." The Fisherman wiggled in his chair to get more comfortable. "Like the crew of the Enterprise, neither we nor the aliens were to act in ways that would interfere with the evolution or maturation of human consciousness, or would cut off humanity's ability to make its own choices."
"Because without it being a choice, it's not really an invitation, is it William?" said Linda.
"Exactly, Madam!" he said, nodding enthusiastically. "And so here they are, these various alien groups, watching as humans rise to sentience and grow in understanding and mastery and technology. Watching. Waiting. And offering us little nudges along the way, giving us opportunities to make choices, revealing themselves in ways that could always be dismissed. They were inviting us, across the centuries, across the millennia, to consider that there was someone else in the Cosmos, someone we might strive to meet. They had to show themselves, for how can one make a choice if one does not know that a choice is available? But always they were confined by the dictates of the Prime Directive. And always, they were challenged by the astounding difficulty of communicating across realities so different from each other that sometimes the humans and the aliens could not even see each other.
"Still they watch, as we quickly gain the power of coal, oil, and agriculture, as we increase in numbers and technology and military might. They see one horrible war. Another one. Another. Suddenly we have huge arsenals, powerful explosives, vast armies, and finally nuclear weapons. Along with all of this growth and power comes overpopulation. Resource limitations. Environmental damage. And all at once a newly sentient species becomes both finally ready to begin exploring the Cosmos and, at the same time, poised to destroy itself. And still the Prime Directive holds." William leaned forward in his chair. "I think it's a testament to their commitment, Madam, that they did not give up on us." He sat back and exhaled. "They held their invitation out, just waiting for us to grab it. When some of us understood what they were up to, we joined them in that work. The invitation is still there, for anyone to take." The Fisherman closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Linda sat and thought for a while, her chin cupped in the palm of her hand, her elbow on her knee, her eyes closed. At last she spoke. "It's just, I don't know... weird, William. You know?" The Fisherman opened his eyes and nodded. "I mean... really?" Linda continued. "Your explanation for why the aliens have acted the way they've acted comes from a television show?"
William smiled. "It's been staring us in the face for a long time now," he agreed. "More than one UFO analyst has mentioned it as a possible explanation for the aliens' strange and unexpected behavior. But very few were able to take it seriously."
Linda sat forward in her chair to meet the Fisherman face to face. "I think I know why people did not take the idea seriously," she said.
"That would not surprise me," said the Fisherman with a smile.
"It's easy, really," said Linda. "Obie said it. We project all over the aliens. We imagine them to be like ourselves in every way. And we totally suck at following the Prime Directive, even if we pay lip service to the idea. We 'civilized peoples,' as you call us, are masters at conquering, controlling, and interfering, William. So of course we can't take seriously the notion that the aliens would follow such dictates. That would make them better than us."
The Fisherman smiled broadly. "I could not have said it better myself, Madam," he said.
13.9
Dennis sniffed. Thought he sniffed. All he could do. Try to see. To smell. To move. Fail and try again. He was moving. Moving. Something. Pulling him. Somewhere.
Had sad thoughts. Missed his people. His Grace. His Emily. His Iain. Even cat. Though cat was pretending. Dennis knew cats. All cats pretend. Want to be more than they are. This made no sense. Not to Dennis. Keeps them apart from people. Which was stupid. People had such wonderful fingers.
Dennis was moving. Just knew. Saw pictures in his head. Fire. Bright fire. Loud noise. Sharp teeth. Heat. Something pulling him to fire. Could not stop it. Could not smell a way out. Tried again anyway. Nothing else to do.
13.10
"So here's the thing," said Linda. She'd risen from her chair and was leaning against its back, stretching her arms and shoulders as if she were truly physical. "You're not giving me a choice here at all."
William started to respond but Linda cut him off. "I mean, c'mon, William! You talk all high and mighty about how important choice is, but you shackle me to this near-physical state, strand me in this Martian desert, and refuse my request to return to Earth? Does that not seem a bit, well, contradictory to you?"
The Fisherman nodded. "I understand how it would look so to you. The contradiction, I think, is caused by a common cultural mistake. May I untangle that for you?"
"I'd rather be untangled from this whole situation," said Linda.
"Perhaps you could entertain the possibility that you are learning to untangle yourself, Madam. 'Teach a woman to fish,' and all that." He smiled slightly.
Linda gestured for him to proceed with a backward flip of her hand.
The Fisherman sat forward. "The distinction I would make is this: you say you want freedom of choice, but what you really want is freedom from circumstance. The problem is, while we always have complete freedom of choice, we never have complete freedom from circumstance. Not in the physical bands. This, Madam, is the realm where circumstance most comes into play, and it's the reason so many beings, from so many realities, regularly dip into this or other physical bands or levels, if they do not already live in one. Circumstances, you see, are simply limitations, but they are one of the most valuable commodities in the whole of Mind-at-Large, as they provide experiences unlike any other."
"Too much, William," said Linda, her voice filled with irritation. "Slow down."
"Right," said the Fisherman. "So. Take this armchair to which I have so impolitely shackled you, to use your metaphor. That is your current circumstance, and right now you have little control over it. You can get up and move around, but because of the way I have tuned your vibrations, you cannot blink back to Earth, and
to get far away from me you would be forced to travel by foot over vast distances. But, even so, within the boundaries of your circumstances, you continue to have choice. You can be angry. You can shout and call me names. You can ask questions and seek further understanding. You can close your eyes and breathe to calm yourself. You can make requests. You can cry and plead. You can try to see the world through my eyes. No matter your situation, there are always realms in which you have complete freedom to choose." He stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Theoretically," he added.
Linda sat on the arm of the chair and frowned. "Why theoretically?"
William cocked his head. "Well, what would you do, were I to free you from your shackles?"
Linda sighed heavily. "I don't know, William," she said. "Slap you? Get the hell out of here and go home? Get my husband and my kids together and get everybody safe? Come looking for you in the physical universe with the full force of my military and throw your ass in jail?" She jerked her chin forward. "Maybe see how you like being locked up for a change."
William closed his eyes and breathed for a moment, then looked at Linda. "Again," he said, "you move the conversation along nicely."
Linda opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. She sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand, then glanced warily at the Fisherman. "Because I just demonstrated what you're talking about," she said, her voice low.
"Indeed you did, Madam. You went right into your ingrained reactions, which keep you in shackles just as surely as my control of your movements does. When you are in reaction, you give up your freedom to choose."
Linda twisted around and stared off across the Martian plain, and up toward the sky. The strange astral night was glorious, lit with bright and colorful stars, bisected by the same Milky Way she knew from Earth, but even brighter and more beautiful here. "Okay," she said, turning to William. "I get it. You may have to keep telling me, but I get it."
Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2) Page 44
