Chapter 4
Randall Walker
This, I thought, is totally amazing. Peaceful, sentient dragons who live forever and who worship God, or rather, mind-reading peaceful dragons, before I realized how distracting it is to think when you know somebody is eavesdropping on your thoughts . . . and right out of the blue without any warning whatsoever, Ace spoke directly to my mind. —You’ll get used to it.
I heard his voice inside my head.
You have to remember, the whole time I’d been there, Ace communicated to me via the facial expressions or with the pictures he gave me in my mind. So up to this point, his face just had whatever he wanted to say, written all over it.
But now . . . now he talked to me inside my head! I felt like I’d been deliberately left in the dark. Another thing I felt that was roughly opposite to that is, I recognized his voice. How, I don’t know. But when his voice strummed in my mind, undeniably masculine, deep, articulate and precise, I recognized it. It wasn’t the same as the overwhelming recognition I had when I heard the Almighty’s voice, but more like the familiarity of an Air Traffic Controller from an often visited airport. I didn’t see how I’d get used to it though. I wondered if there would ever be any let up to his eavesdropping on my thoughts and he said, —Not while you’re here.
“So you’ll be right here in my mind, all the time . . .”
—Unless I leave.
Well, at least I’d have company. “Why did you wait so long to let me know you could telepathically speak to me?”
—You needed time to become functional in an unfamiliar paradigm.
“Unfamiliar . . . paradigm? Sounds like 21st century philosophy or something, Ace.”
—What do you think us dragons have been watching for millenniums?
“But I thought you’ve been in the overlap since just after the flood?”
As soon as I said it, ideas began forming in my mind. I remembered the golden hued bubble, Ace’s statement about men having never ‘traveled dreaming with a dragon,’ fairytales about dragons sleeping with one eye open, statues of dragons holding various spheres . . .
It didn’t take long before I suspected Ace could go places in ways I’ve never dreamed of. I imagined dragon consciousness floating all over the world, watching and witnessing, learning all sorts of things no person ever could and said, “Just how much watching have you been doing?”
—It’s more than that. You have guessed that dragons are telepathic among themselves?
“No, but now that you mention it, that makes sense.”
—Dragons are able to communicate much more efficiently telepathically than you and I.
“How much more?”
—Many times more. We may communicate simultaneously and understand each other, for instance. We may also communicate with multiple participants, also simultaneously, and still understand each other. We are also able to communicate over . . . considerable distances.
Not only did I now have more questions, but I suspected if they can do all that, the most radical scenario for how much they knew about mankind would be . . . practically everything. I just couldn’t imagine an upper limit to what the dragons might have learned. As a matter of fact, they probably knew mankind better than mankind knew itself.
Ace interrupted my grousing, —What makes you think we’ve limited our travels to planet earth?
With a shock I absorbed the implication of that. The dragons might have traveled beyond earth, which begged the question, how far?
I asked it by arching my eyebrows.
In a matter of fact tone, Ace trumped my furthest extrapolations, —We’ve limited our explorations to this galaxy.
And that blew my mind.
I’ve always been interested in the cosmos. With that many stars, who couldn’t be? But the greatest efforts of man barely scratched the surface if you compared it to dragons exploring the galaxy.
Ace said, —I didn’t say we were there in person.
That brought my mental groveling up short. “You explored the galaxy, but not in person?”
Ace spelled it out for me. —Dragons have the ability to travel throughout the material dimension, being fully aware, while in a special state of dreaming. During our exile from earth’s surface, it pleased us to explore the galaxy.
Other than sputtering, I didn’t know what to say.
It finally dawned on me to ask, “How much of it did you explore?”
—Quite a bit, though undoubtedly you would say it’s only the tip of the iceberg.
One question instantly burned within me.
“Did you find intelligent life among the stars?”
I stared intently at him, teetering on the brink of what I hoped his answer would be, when he quite simply, deflated me on the spot. I felt rather than saw or heard what the answer would be. And the feeling was, it’s not what I wanted. I wanted there to be other intelligent life in our galaxy.
Ace though, for whatever the reason, wasn’t going to be specific.
He said, —Maybe the Lord will answer that for you.
Taken back by the evasiveness of his answer, I decided to let it go and pursue my other question. “How much have you studied mankind?”
—We’ve studied mankind. He said it with a finality that resisted further questions.
Stumped and feeling in a quandary, I figured I’d let it slide. I didn’t want to, but then again, I didn’t think I could manipulate the answer out of him either. My conclusion had the unexpected effect of appeasing him. He resumed a subject he introduced earlier.
—Because you’re it, you’ll travel with me as you witness the events that you need to see to fulfill your task.
Seeing no other option but to go with the flow, I said, “How will I travel with you?”
—It will be as you have already imagined.
The idea of the golden hued bubble again came to mind. “You mean inside that bubble?”
—Of course. God has chosen to team us together to do this. It is a very great honor for me, for no dragon has ever been outside of this time-line. To accomplish your task, you must have access to both the past and the future.
“Wait a minute. You said I’m to tell the story of after the Lord’s return. What’s this about going into the past?”
—Apparently there is something in the past you are required to see before you study the future.
“What is it?”
—I have not been informed what it is.
“What have you been informed of?”
—The briefing covered my appointment to accompany you during the task. I also learned we’ll venture outside the universal time-line during your study.
“Why you?”
Ace paused, as if the question created some difficulty for him.
—Because I am alone, he answered in a subdued tone.
This struck a strange note in me, because of all the other dragons. I asked, “What do you mean, alone?”
Ace stared at me for a prolonged moment. He seemed to be recalling something.
Then he said, —One of the dragons that was killed before we left earth’s surface was my mate, Teleannie-Teleena.
Immediately his countenance became sorrowful and he looked away. He was as grief stricken as if it’d happened yesterday. I couldn’t help but remember how people dealt with loss and grief and how the world was full of it. But this had to have happened a very long time ago. Was the suffering this strong because the dragons were different in ways I didn’t understand?
I said, “Please forgive my ignorance, Ace, but why are you still so sad? It’s been a very long time, hasn’t it?
Ackseekcelong-Sayessa appeared to be only marginally controlling his grief.
He said, —It is somewhat as you have guessed. Dragons are different than mankind. More different than you can imagine. Besides which, you were given to care for and tend to the earth, and we were to watch. But there is one great difference. When Adam fell, dragons
alone remained undefiled.
Ace paused as if remembering. —But even that didn’t last, because violent men killed some of us.
He looked away. Lifting his head toward the high ceiling he said, —We should have known.
The grief coming off him at this point was palpable. I began to worry about him. The giant dragon closed his eyes and lowered his head. I couldn’t keep my heart from going out to him.
—What you don’t understand, Ace’s voice came into my mind, is that without Teleannie, dragons will never complete our population.
Ace looked back at me. Suddenly he wasn’t sad anymore, because now wrath was burning deep down inside. A wrath he was holding back.
Other than feeling really small right then, the statement about the dragons not being able to complete their population confused me. I figured the dragons would be able to multiply their population like any other life form.
Abruptly Ace intruded into my thoughts, —We are like no other life form.
The anger within his huge eyes had smoldered for millenniums. That much was obvious.
—Our population is a preordained specific number. If any one dragon falls out of the link, we cannot finish our circle. He paused for a moment. When he continued, his tone was grave.
—It is because each pair of dragons have . . . only . . . one . . . offspring! And he fell silent.
I was thunderstruck. How could God create a life form with so fragile an existence? I didn’t know, but I thought I ought to comfort him. I really didn’t know how though.
To make matters worse, something inside me wanted to know right then how big the dragon population would have been if all the dragons had remained alive. It felt totally crass, thinking about numbers at the same time that I learned about the dragon’s tragedy. But there just wasn’t anything else. Almost as if I couldn’t think of anything else.
But before I could figure out how big the dragon population would have been, I needed to know what it started out as. So without anything to cover what I felt was my own callousness toward their loss, I looked up at Ace.
Gratefully, he knew what I needed to know. He even told me. —Sixteen.
Right then, no matter how inappropriate it felt, I realized I was becoming familiar with my new environment. And started crunching numbers. 16 dragons would pair off to make 8 offspring; 8 dragons would make 4 . . . I wondered what baby dragons are called, but before I could ask, Ace said, —Draglets. I glanced up at him and then away, and kept working on the math. 4 dragons would produce 2 draglets, and the last 2 would obviously make 1. I had to add them all up now, 16 and 8 and 4 and 2 and 1, and it came to 31. 31? Only 31 dragons? I didn’t expect Ace to say anything, but he chimed in right on cue, —Correct.
As I began to nurture the idea a preordained limited population seemed a little bit unfair, Ace interrupted me. —It is how we were made to be.
The response, vested in dignity, came without anger or disappointment or envy, and so much was it void of these traits that I immediately felt Ace was spiritually above me. The notion of the 24 elders in heaven came to remembrance. I figured if the dragons were anything like them, I’d need to raise my opinion of them several points on the importance scale. I’ll never forget the nobility Ace and the other dragons displayed when I saw them worshiping God together. Indeed, if they were similar to the elders of heaven, it would justify the total acceptance in Ace’s attitude when he said, —‘It is how we were made to be.’
I knew he’d been following my thoughts because he said, —We are not elders of heaven, though maybe they are a good example.
He also didn’t need any help managing his grief. He shifted in and out of it seemingly at will. But it still bothered me.
“Ace . . . I wish there were something I could say . . .”
As soon as the words left my mouth, he looked as if I’d cheated him. The tormenting grief had jumped back on board, too.
—There is nothing. His outlook made the word bleak seem cheery. But then I thought, what about when the New Heaven and New Earth is here . . . wouldn’t it be possible for God to do something then?
Ace turned his head to the left, then moved only his eyes back to me. Hope touched his face. He said, —We have never thought of that.
Instantly Ace’s mood changed and his despondency lifted. I felt encouraged. I knew it was a long shot, but the only hope really was for God to restore Ace’s mate. The more I thought of it, the surer I got. Now if I could only get Ace to keep believing . . .
I’d just found the first thing I needed to entrust to God. How strange though, that my faith became activated first not for me, but for my unearthly guide.