The Chronicles of Qi

by J E Kerry

  Ce-loo-me & Jason

  Counselor Tsung and Professor Azarov sit opposite Professor Crown at the table in his living room, exchanging concerned looks.

  “We need your help,” is how Tsung opens their meeting.

  “What for?” Crown demands.

  “The ‘Pilchowa Notes’,” Azarov joins in from the end of an antique sofa that has been in Crown’s family for many decades. He is sunk into that furniture, and both legs would be splayed out in comical fashion if they were just a couple of inches farther apart. They might already be, depending on one’s own sense of humor. The sofa is lined with creases and folds born of experiences from a time before them and of such a thick hide it would surely still be there after they were gone as well. A relic, but an oh so comfortable one.

  “We’re interested in her drawings, which have some other relevance to us,” the counselor adds.

  “So, you are able to decipher them?” Crown’s intrigue is sparked by Tsung’s hesitance to answer.

  “Someone might,” Azarov suggests with a casual shrug.

  “Let’s say I give you the drawings,” Crown looks carefully between his two guests, “what’s in it for me?”

  “I think the question is, how far are you willing to go?” Tsung pushes back against the professor.

  “As you can see,” Crown jokes by pointing down to his hover-wheelchair, “not far, but if you think her notes are somehow connected to the Nun Resh ‘Ayin, then I definitely want to be part of this investigation”.

  Counselor Tsung shares a look with Professor Azarov, before returning his attention to Crown.

  “Then let me ask you a question: Do you believe that these intelligences are a threat to us?”

  The professor straightens, confident and at ease.

  “An ancestor of mine, Dr. Greer, once said: Given the galactically stupid things we are doing, chasing them, firing at them, developing laser beam protocols and other weapon systems, and knocking enough of them down that you’ll be able to reverse engineer them, then I’d say, if they were hostile, and they have interstellar transportation technologies, it would have been ‘point, set, match and over’ in 1945, about the time we developed nuclear weapons.” Crown recites.

  Counselor Tsung and Professor Azarov nod in silent agreement.

  He continues, “And as you, Professor, once taught me: the extropian philosophy embodies an inspiring and uplifting view of life while remaining open to revision according to science, reason, and the boundless search for improvement, in harmony with nature and society.”

  Crown’s retro-humanoid housemaid interrupts the conversation for a moment, entering the room and serving them a decorative Chinese Flower Tea. This sweet, smooth and delicate blooming flower tea, made of Marigold, Jasmine and Amaranth from the deep mountains of the New Asia plateau, blossoms into beautiful flowers when infused, preserving the enchanting view for up to five days in a glass of cold water. It’s a mandatory offering to any guest and symbolizes a blooming, long-lasting friendship or business relationship. Next to that, it also shows the guest that the host cares about a healthy relationship, since this flower tea brings many health benefits with it such as powerful richness in anti-oxidants, younger skin, a metabolism boost, the elimination of stress, depression or anxiety as well as anti-viral components.

  “It took us centuries and many wars to evolve to this point,” Crown adds. “So, even if they have a plan, I believe they are here for bigger purposes than to enslave or harvest human beings.”

  As the humanoid housemaid exits, Crown pauses his little speech and whips out an ancient flask from under his blanket, filled with good old homemade whiskey which he blends with his tea before resuming. As with sugar and meat, alcoholic beverages have been banned by the AN-CDC from production and consumption. Crown is taking a great risk to openly reveal his homemade liquor to the high counselor, but Tsung knows better than to judge or warn him of the consequences because as a Veteran and widower, Crown doesn’t deserve to be treated like any other citizen. Tsung accounts for how much he’s been through and gives him some special consideration for it.

  “I mean, aren’t we still a much bigger threat to any alien race, because we’ve shown over centuries that we are capable of hating and killing each other?” he questions.

  The room falls into silence, with only the sound of the three sipping on their cups like old ladies at their very own tea party remaining.

  “So, do we have a deal?” Crown presses for an answer, eyeing his guests and trying to decipher their body language.

  “We do,” Counselor Tsung confirms with a nod. He looks to Crown’s legs, then to his eyes, “And, how are you?” He can’t help himself but to show some paternal affection for Crown’s situation. “Have you thought about the doctor’s suggestion?”

  “I guess like the Professor, I’m stubborn,” Crown admits with another sip of his blended tea. “I choose to be reminded of the worst day in my life for a reason.”

  It’s one reason. The other is that he doesn’t trust technology in general, even though the advancements of the past years have boosted the success rate for recovery to 99%. But there’s still that one percent, something that Crown just can’t get over because it has once cost his wife and son their lives. A story he’s tried to forget ever since ‘the event’.

  “Fair enough,” the counselor accepts his explanation, “If you should ever change your mind…”.

  “I know,” Crown winks to Tsung with a little smile. “Thank you, High Counselor.”

  ∞∞∞

  The holographic door of the Lyr-an assembly hall transforms into a spacious, organic meeting room, overlooking the entire Lyr-an island.

  Counselor Tsung, Professor Azarov and Professor Crown, now clean and shaven, are being welcomed by Queen Ce-loo-me and Droncur.

  Crown, taken aback by the queen’s exotic beauty from his spot behind the counselor and professor, tries to hide his disability for a brief moment to make a ‘normal’ first impression.

  “Welcome,” Droncur says to their guests. “Please, have a seat.”

  Everyone takes a seat on the hover chair-plates, except for Crown, who is now revealed to all in his hover-wheelchair. His shame to be seen like this in the presence of the queen is quite palpable, and so his face is mostly turned away.

  Ce-loo-me appears quite surprised herself as she finally gets a full look at him.

  “That’s new.” She thinks in Saren, a bit puzzled.

  Droncur notices her distraction and continues with the formalities.

  “How can we be of assistance?” he asks.

  “We’ve come into possession of some alien writings, channeled through one of our human prophets, and hope that you might be able to translate them,” Counselor Tsung proposes, face masked with his usual blank expression.

  “Very well,” Droncur agrees as Tsung is already handing him one of Agni’s sketches, featuring in its center the ‘Eye of Qi’.

  Exceedingly complex, the entire symbol is a Metatron’s cube and relies on thirteen spheres held together by lines from the midpoint of each sphere. These spheres represent a feminine energy while the straight lines stand for the masculine counterpart. Together, they form the creation of ‘Oneness’ and the infinite ‘All’, reflecting the thirteen Archangels that stand before God.

  Ce-loo-me’s eyes jump over the words that surround the symbol. She feigns a confused look and instantly shakes her head.

  “My apologies Counselor, but we are not able to translate this ancient alien text,” she says, all the while Tsung carefully studies her face.

  He’s sure that the queen is hiding something and knows exactly what the writings mean. This entire meeting as far as he’s concerned is a test to evaluate Ce-loo-me’s true intentions here on Earth and figure out her level of trustworthiness, if there was any.

  “I see,” Tsung says. “Well, thank you for your time, Queen Ce-loo-me.”

  “My pleasure,” she politely chirps.

  Ev
eryone but Crown rises, “And I shaved for that,” he mumbles to himself.

  The guests are being respectfully ushered out when Ce-loo-me calls out, quite surprisingly, “Professor Crown. Would you mind staying?”.

  The group stall at the exit and quickly, almost robotically, come together to a huddle, speaking softly.

  “How does she even know my name?” Crown wonders.

  “Stay,” Tsung advises.

  “And lead with your charm,” Azarov adds cheerily.

  “You might find out more than us,” Tsung pats Crown’s back and unceremoniously exits the room together with Azarov and Droncur, leaving Crown sitting there with furrowed brows and a rapidly accelerating heartrate. The hum of his chair is the only sound in the room for a few seconds as he makes a hundred- and eighty-degree turn, flashing a brief and nervous smile to the advancing alien queen who eyes him curiously from head to toe as she approaches.

  “Nice view,” Crown tries to keep his cool as Ce-loo-me pauses in front of him and assesses the bulge of the pendant under his shirt. She runs her finger around the chain and frees the pendant through the top of his shirt. Crown follows her eyes down to it as she touches the emerald-green stone, similar to the big version of the Cintamani in Professor Azarov’s crystal chamber.

  “You’re still one of them,” Ce-loo-me says in Saren.

  “Come again?” Crown asks confused, understanding not a word of her mother tongue.

  “The Circle of Shambhala,” she adds.

  “How do you -,” he wonders how she would know about the meaning of his family heirloom.

  “Give me your hands,” Ce-loo-me invites him.

  The professor cautiously stretches out his hands as the queen lays her palms over his, closes her eyes, and concentrates on her Qi.

  The pendant slowly begins to vibrate, and abruptly releases a string of red particle energy that reaches from the pendant to their hands, twirling in several arches around them and surrounding the two in a radiant sphere.

  Crown tries to keep his cool and literally puts all his trust into the hands of the queen as he hears her voice ringing in his mind, “Don’t be afraid. It’s not the first time. We’ve done this before. You can trust me”.

  The sphere eventually collapses into a glare of light and swallows the queen and the professor whole.

  ∞∞∞

  * PLANET NE-BE-RU 450,000 B.C. *

  A heatwave burns through the eroding atmosphere and reaches the surface. Flames ravage the lush vegetation.

  Queen Ce-loo-me and Professor Crown materialize on the ground amidst the calefaction and unmerciful temperature. They watch wave after wave of bristling heat dash against the futuristic suit of a space man and every time travel smoothly and harmlessly around the suit’s protective electromagnetic shield.

  “Where are we?” Crown asks while gasping for air and trying to acclimatize.

  They’ve just travelled back in time, the Lyr-an way, wherefore their non-visible energy vessels can be compared to astral bodies, able to hide in plain sight, unaffected by any outer influences such as cold or heat.

  “Ne-be-ru.” Ce-loo-me explains. “Or as you would say: Jupiter; the planet where everything began.”

  The professor looks around him, as if recalling something he’s read or known for quite some time. Something he hasn’t had to think of in just as long.

  “The A-nu-na-ki,” he finally remembers.

  The pair walk over grass and flowers that slowly fade away under their feet. It was part of the experience of existence; the sad beauty of passing time.

  “The planet is dying.” Ce-loo-me resumes. “Thousands of years ago, the progressing pole-shift caused the volcanoes to die out and therefore interrupt the production of matter that usually helps to close the atmosphere and filter the radiation of Ne-be-ru’s blue dwarf star E-le-nin. Since then, the stifling heat of our two suns forced the crops to failure and spread infertility.” She points to the space man, a lonely figure dragging himself across the terminally ill planet, pushing against the buffing winds and backdrop of a red, burning atmosphere. “That man over there was the former King of Ne-be-ru. He’s looking for a solution to protect the thinning atmosphere.”

  The queen waves her hands, using the thumb and index finger of both, gesturing over to an ethereal, multidimensional looking-glass in the form of a portal, opening it. Together, they watch the revealing beginning of history in this universe, narrated by the queen in her natural Saren accent, immersed into each scene as if having been there themselves.

  “Billions of years ago, the ancient reptilian Lur-aan Command arrive from the Kt-oth universe in the Lania-kea universe and leave their traces in the Milky Way galaxy, choosing Ori-on, Siri-us and Drac-o as their new colonies until discovering Earth about 365 Million years ago.” The scenery changes.

  “40 million years ago, 4th density Andromed-ans thought-project themselves into the Milky Way and settle in the Lyr-a constellation. The ‘Cradle of Lyr-a’ is born and with that the next period of engineering humanoid life forms in the galaxy.” The unfolding events flicker before their eyes.

  “22 million years ago, the now called ‘Lyr-ans’, my ancestors, reach a very high level of technological know-how and explore and colonize neighboring planets. The first encounter with the Ori-on Empire of the Lur-aan Command and its failed negotiations over territory lead to the beginning of the ‘Ori-on Wars’.”

  An array of explosions lights up the looking-glass, fire and flashes, laser weapons of various colors and intensity fly back and forth and it’s all Crown can do to keep track. Attack ships burn in the silence and vacuum of space while soldiers and warriors die lightyears from all they’ve ever known.

  “15-12 million years ago, the Ori-on Wars escalate and what was once a war over territory has now shifted into a war of ideologies and mind-controlled power. On one hand there is the ideology of ‘Service-to-Others’ and on the other, ‘Service-to-Self’. Next to the main event, a galactic superwave from the sun destroys a planet of the Ori-on Empire in the Siri-us star system and forces meteorites into space. One of them crashes on Earth during the period of the 1st Root Race of ‘Mu’, giving birth to the legends of the Cintamani Stone.”

  Crown reflexively looks down to his Cintamani pendant and holds it tight before his focus returns to the portal.

  “11 million years ago, refugees from both corners of the war find their way to Siri-us, seeking help. After careful consideration, the Siri-ans suggest to the warring empires they end the conflict by uniting their royal lineages in marriage. Their resolution works for a few hundred thousand years with the rise of the hybrid race, to you known as the legendary ‘A-nu-na-ki’, until the differences of cultural heritage and ideologies once more fuel the fire for the reinstatement of the Ori-on Wars throughout the galaxy.” A new picture forms in front of them.

  “9 million years ago, fed up with the situation of a never-ending war and the mind-controlled suppression on both sides, a new faction emerges from Siri-us: the Uri-as or Uri (Renegades). Within their ranks grows up a woman called ‘Myr’ who soon ends the war with a smart move into both directions, helping masses of souls ascend into a higher density in search for the ‘Eye of Qi’.”

  Ce-loo-me straightens and takes a deep breath, remembering what’s about to happen next will have very tragic consequences for the future of the entire universe.

  “4.5 – 2.5 million years ago and after years of peace, the Ori-on Wars now continue under a new flag of ‘Mal-deek and Mars-a’, also known from your Old Testament as the ‘War in Heaven’. Human beings from Mars-a fight against the reptilian humanoids of Mal-deek.

  The conflict erupts as the ‘13 Royal Bloodlines’ from Ori-on settle on Mal-deek to degrade the planet’s consciousness grid through their darkened souls and seed their Service-to-Self ideology among the people.

  After many unsuccessful threats against the Mars-aians, all in attempt to wipe them out if they would not surrender their planet to Mal-deek, the su
rface of Mars-a is eventually wiped clean with a fusion+fission thermonuclear weapon; the planet doomed to never recover from it.

  In an unexpected counter-maneuver, the Pleiadi-ans lend aid, fighting back with their plasma weapons and disrupting the protection grid of Mal-deek. Surprised by the attack and in a state of panic, the 13 Royal Bloodlines try to keep their grid intact by raising its power. This leads to an overload of the artificial energy field, a decrease of the natural electro-magnetic-gravity grid of the planet, and the elimination of the planet’s core balance.

  In a short time, Mal-deek’s integrity is so compromised it explodes outward like an overheated ball of glass, and with as many unpredictably sized pieces. These billions of rock and sediment and metal and ice that made up Mal-deek’s surface eventually becomes the asteroid belt located between Mars-a and Ju-pit-er.

  The souls of Mal-deek’s dead join the Mars-aians at the gates of Earth, waiting for their turn to reincarnate.

  But right before the destruction of Mal-deek, the 13 Bloodlines time-travel into the future of Earth to a point in the At-laan era in which they see their best opportunity to rule over the planet and make it their new home.

  Meanwhile in the present, the 9th density Lord San-at Kum-a-ra from 5th density Ven-us, decides to travel with four hundred of his people to Earth and build a 5D city which will soon become known as the Shambhala over the Gobi Sea and later initiate the fourth humanoid Root Race on Earth, the Chinese At-laans. Being aware that they would have to take care of the people of Earth for a while and help their lost souls to recover and ascend, Kum-a-ra orders to build a 3D city below Shambhala as the ‘Lower Realm Shambhala’. There, some of his people would be able to manifest into 3D bodies and interact with the ‘Chosen Ones’ that would become –”

  “The Circle of Shambhala,” Crown finishes her sentence.

  “Exactly,” Ce-loo-me confirms with a smile and history continues to play out.