“They’ve started the experiment again,” Wil said.
I shook off the dizziness and looked at him. “That means Curtis will probably try to use force to stop them: He’s convinced that’s the only way.”
As soon as I spoke those words, I saw a clear picture of Fey-man in my mind, the man David Lone Eagle thought had something to do with the experiment. He was somewhere overlooking the valley. Glancing at Wil, I realized that he had seen the same image. He nodded in agreement and we instantly began to move.
When we stopped, Wil and I were facing each other. Around us was more gray. Another loud, disharmonious sound shattered the silence, and Wil’s face began to lose focus. He continued to hold onto me, and after several moments the sound ended.
“These sound bursts are coming more frequently now,” Wil said. “We may not have much time left.”
I nodded, fighting the dizziness.
“Let’s look around,” Wil said.
As soon as we focused on our surroundings, we saw what appeared to be a mass of energy several hundred yards away. Immediately it closed to within forty or fifty feet.
“Be careful,” Wil cautioned. “Don’t identify completely with them. Just listen and find out who they are.”
I focused warily, and immediately saw souls in motion and an image of the town from which I had escaped.
I recoiled in fear, which actually made them come closer to us.
“Stay centered in love,” Wil instructed. “They can’t pull us in unless we act as though we want them to save us. Try to send them love and energy. It’ll either help them or make them run away.”
Realizing the souls were more afraid than I was, I found my center and beamed them love energy. Immediately they moved rapidly away from us to their original position.
“Why can’t they accept the love and wake up?” I asked Wil.
“Because when they feel the energy and it raises their consciousness a degree, their preoccupation lifts somewhat and doesn’t fend off the anxiety of their aloneness. Coming into awareness and breaking free of a control drama always feels anxious at first, because the compulsion has to lift before the inward solution to the lostness can be found. That’s why a ‘dark night of the soul’ sometimes precedes increased awareness and spiritual euphoria.”
A movement to the right caught our attention. When I focused, I realized that other souls were in the area; they came closer and the others moved away. I strained to pick up on what the group was doing.
“Why do you think this group is here?” I asked Wil.
He shrugged. “They have something to do with this guy Feyman.”
In the space around the group I began to see a moving image, a scene of some kind. When I brought it clearly into focus, I realized it was the image of an expansive industrial plant somewhere on Earth, with large metal buildings and rows of what looked like transformers and pipes and miles of interlinking wire. At the center of the complex, atop one of the largest buildings, was a command center of pure glass. Inside I could see rows of computers and gauges of all descriptions. I glanced at Wil.
“I see it,” he said.
As we continued to survey the complex, our perspective expanded so that we could now view the plant from above. From here we could see miles of wire leaving the plant in all directions, feeding huge towers containing some sort of laser beams shooting energy out to other local stations.
“Do you know what all this is?” I asked Wil.
He nodded. “It’s a centralized energy-generating plant.”
Movement at one end of the complex attracted our attention. Emergency vans and fire trucks were arriving at one of the larger buildings. An ominous glow radiated from the third-floor windows. At one point the glow brightened and then the ground under the entire building seemed to crack. In an explosion of dust and debris the building shuddered and then slowly collapsed. To the right another building burst into flames.
The scene moved to the command center, where inside, technicians moved frantically. From the right a door opened and a man entered with an arm full of charts and blueprints. He laid them out on a table and worked with what appeared to be determined confidence. Walking with a limp to one side of the room, he began to adjust switches and dials. Gradually the ground stopped shaking and the fires were brought under control. He continued to work hastily and to instruct the other technicians.
I looked at the individual now in charge more closely and then turned to Wil. “That’s Feyman!”
Before Wil could respond, the scene shifted into fast-forward. Before our eyes the plant was saved, then, quickly, workers began to dismantle it, building by building. At the same time, on a site nearby, a new, smaller facility was being constructed that would manufacture more compact generators. Finally most of the complex had been returned to its natural, wooded state, and the new facility was turning out small units that we could see behind each house and business throughout the countryside.
Abruptly our perspective backed away until we could see a single individual in the foreground watching the same scene we were. When we could see his profile, I realized that it was Fey-man, before his current birth, contemplating what he could achieve in life.
Wil and I looked at each other. “This is part of his Birth Vision, isn’t it?” I asked.
Wil nodded. “This must be his soul group. Let’s see how much more we can find out about him.”
We both focused on the group, and another image formed in front of us. It was the nineteenth-century war camp; the headquarters tent again. We could see Feyman together with the commander, the man I had seen again in the illusional town. Feyman was the other aide who had been there with Williams. He was the one who limped.
As we watched their interaction, we began to pick up on the story of their association. A bright tactician, Feyman was in charge of strategy and technological developments. In advance of the attack the commander had ordered smallpox-laden blankets covertly traded to the Native Americans, a tactic Feyman adamantly opposed, not so much because of its effect on the indigenous people as because he felt that it was politically indefensible.
Afterward, even as the success of the battle was being hailed in Washington, the press found out about the use of smallpox, and an investigation was launched. The commander and his cronies in Washington set Feyman up as the scapegoat and his career was ruined. Later the commander set forth on a glorious political career and national stature, before he was also treacherously double-crossed by the same Washington insiders.
Feyman, for his part, never recovered; his own political ambitions had been totally destroyed. Over the years he became increasingly more embittered and resentful, trying desperately to marshal public opinion to challenge his commander’s account of the battle. For a while several journalists pursued the story, but soon public interest faded completely and Feyman remained in a state of disgrace. Later, toward the end of his life, he languished in the realization that his political goals would never be reached, and, blaming his old commander for his humiliation, he attempted to assassinate the ex-politician at a state dinner and was shot dead by bodyguards.
Because Feyman had cut himself off from his inner security and love, he could not fully awaken after death. For years he believed he had escaped his ill-fated attempt to kill his old commander, and had lived in illusional constructions, holding on to his hate and doomed to the repeated horror of planning and attempting another assassination, only to be shot, over and over.
As I watched, I realized that Feyman could have been trapped in the illusions for a much longer period of time had it not been for the determined efforts of another man who had been at the military encampment with Feyman. I could see an image of his face, and I recognized his expression.
“That’s Joel again, the journalist I met,” I said to Wil without losing my focus on the image.
Wil nodded in response.
After death, Joel had become a member of the outer soul ring and became totally dedicated to wakin
g up Feyman. His intention during the lifetime with Feyman had been to expose any cruelty or treachery on the part of the military toward the Native Americans, but even though he had known about the smallpox contamination, he had been persuaded to keep quiet by a combination of bribes and threats. After death he had been devastated by his Life Review, but had remained conscious, and had vowed to help Feyman, who he felt had been ruined because of his failure to intervene.
After a long period of time, Feyman finally responded and underwent a long and painful Life Review himself. He had originally intended in the nineteenth-century life to become a civil engineer, involved in the peaceful development of technology. But he had been beguiled by the prospect of becoming a war hero, like the commander, and of developing new war strategies and devices.
In the years between lives, he had been involved in helping others on Earth with the proper use of technology, when he slowly began to receive a vision of another life approaching. Slowly at first and then with great conviction, he realized that soon mass-energy devices would be discovered that had the potential of liberating humankind, but these devices would be extremely dangerous.
As he felt himself being born, he knew that he would come to work with this technology, and he was well aware that in order to succeed, he would have to again face his tendency to crave power and recognition and status. Yet he saw that he would have help; there would be six other people. He visualized the valley, working together somewhere in the dark, the falls in the background, utilizing a process to bring in the World Vision.
As he began to fade from view, I could make out aspects of the process he was seeing. First the group of seven would begin to remember past experiences with each other and to work through the residual feelings. Then the group would consciously amplify its energy, using the Eighth Insight techniques, and each would express his or her particular Birth Vision, and finally the vibration would accelerate, unifying the soul groups of the seven individuals. Out of the knowledge gained would come the full memory of our intended future, the World Vision, the view of where we’re going and what we have to do to reach our destiny.
Suddenly the whole scene disappeared, along with Feyman’s group. Wil and I were left there alone.
Wil’s eyes were animated. “Do you see what was happening?” he asked. “This means that Feyman’s original intention was actually to perfect and decentralize the technology he’s working on. If he realizes this fact, he will stop the experiment.”
“We’ve got to find him,” I said.
“No,” Wil replied, pausing to think. “That won’t help, not yet. We’ve got to find the rest of this group of seven; it must take the pooled energy of a group to bring in the memory of the World Vision, a group that can work through the process of remembering and energize themselves.”
“I don’t understand this part about clearing residual feelings.”
Wil moved closer. “Remember the other mental images you’ve been having? The memories of other places, other times?”
“Yes.”
“The group that is forming to deal with this experiment has been together before. There will be residual feelings that must be worked through! Everyone will have to deal with them.”
Wil looked away for a moment, then said, “This is more of the Tenth Insight. Not just one group is coming in; there are many others. We’ll all have to learn to clear these resentments.”
As he spoke, I thought about the many group situations’ I’d experienced, where some members of the group liked each other immediately, while others seemed to fall into instant discord, for no apparent reason. I wondered: was human culture now ready to perceive the distant source of these unconscious reactions?
Then, without warning, another shrill sound reverberated through my body. Wil grabbed me and pulled me closer, our faces almost touching. “If you fall again, I don’t know if you can get back while the experiment is operating at this level,” he shouted. “You’ll have to find the others!”
A second blast ripped us apart, and I felt myself release into the familiar swirling colors, knowing that I was heading back, as before, into the Earth dimension. Yet this time, instead of tumbling quickly into the physical, I seemed to linger momentarily; something was pulling at my solar plexus, moving me laterally. As I strained to focus, the surging environment calmed, and I began to sense the presence of another person, without actually seeing the individual’s form. I could almost remember the character of the feeling. Who makes me feel this way?
At last I began to discern a blurry figure thirty or forty feet away, which moved closer, gradually, until I recognized who it was. Charlene! As she closed to within ten feet, I sensed a shift in my body, as though I was suddenly relaxing more completely. Simultaneously I noticed a pinkish-red energy field that encircled Charlene. Seconds later, to my amazement, I noticed an identical field around myself. When we were about five feet from each other, the relaxation in my body grew into an increased sensualness and finally into a wave of orgasmic love. I suddenly couldn’t think. What was happening?
Just as our fields were about to touch, the shrill dissonance returned and I was jolted backward again, twisting out of control.
FORGIVING
As my head cleared, I gradually became aware of something cold and wet against my right cheek. Slowly I opened my eyes, the rest of my body frozen in place. For a moment the half-grown wolf looked at me and sniffed hard, his tail bristling, then he dashed into the woods as I jerked back and sat up.
In a tired stupor I retrieved my pack in the fading light and walked into the thick trees and raised my tent, afterward virtually collapsing into the sleeping bag. I struggled to stay awake, intrigued by my strange meeting with Charlene. Why had she been in the other dimension? What had drawn us together?
The next morning I awoke early and made oatmeal, wolfing it down, and then made my way carefully back to the small creek I had passed on my way up the ridge to wash my face and fill my canteen. I still felt tired, but I was also anxious to find Curtis.
Suddenly I was jolted to my feet by the sound of an explosion toward the east. That had to be Curtis, I thought, as I ran to the tent. A wave of fear passed through me as I quickly packed and headed toward the sound of the blast.
After about a half mile the woods ended abruptly at what appeared to be an abandoned pasture. Several strands of rusty barbed wire hung loosely between the trees in my path. I surveyed the open field and the line of trees and dense bush a hundred yards beyond. At that moment the bushes parted and Curtis burst through and headed in a dead run straight toward me. I waved, and he immediately recognized who I was and slowed to a fast walk. When he reached me, he carefully climbed through the barbed wire and collapsed against a tree, breathing rapidly.
“What happened?” I asked. “What did you blow up?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t do much. They’re running the experiment underground. I didn’t have enough explosives, and I… I didn’t want to hurt the people inside. All I could do was blow up an outside dish antenna, which hopefully will delay them.”
“How did you get close enough to do that?”
“I set the charges last night after dark. They must not expect anyone to be up here, because they have very few guards outside.”
He paused for a moment as we heard the sound of trucks in the distance. “We’ll have to get out of this valley,” he continued, “and find some help. We don’t have any choice now. They’ll be coming.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “I think we have a chance to stop them, but we’ve got to find Maya and Charlene.”
His eyes widened. “Are you talking about Charlene Billings?”
“That’s right.”
“I know her. She used to do some contract research for the corporation. I hadn’t seen her for years, but I saw her last night going into the underground bunker. She was walking with several men, all of them heavily armed.”
“Were they holding her against her will?”
&n
bsp; “I couldn’t tell,” Curtis said distractedly, his ears tuned to the trucks, which now seemed to be heading in our direction. “We’ve got to get out of here. I know a place where we can hide until dark, but we’ll have to hurry.” He looked back toward the east. “I set a false trail, but it won’t sidetrack them for long.”
“I’ve got to tell you what happened,” I said. “I found Wil again.”
“Right, tell me on the way,” he said, walking quickly. “We’ve got to move.”
I looked out of the mouth of the cave and across the deep gorge to the opposite hillside. No movement. I listened carefully but could hear nothing. We had walked in a northeasterly direction for about a mile, and as quickly as I could, I had told Curtis what I had experienced in the other dimension, stressing my belief that Williams had been correct. We could stop this experiment if we could find the rest of the group and remember the larger Vision.
I could tell that Curtis was resisting. He had listened for a while, but then began rambling about his past association with Charlene. I was frustrated that he knew nothing that might explain what she had to do with this experiment. He also told me how he had come to know David. They had become friends, he explained, after a chance meeting had revealed many common experiences in the military.
I told him it was significant that he and I both had an association with David and that we knew Charlene.
“I don’t know what it means,” he had said distractedly, and I had dropped it, but I knew it was further proof that we had all come to this valley for a reason. Afterward we had walked in silence as Curtis searched for the cave. When we had found it, he backtracked and erased our tracks with dead pine branches and then had lingered outside until he was convinced we hadn’t been seen.
“This soup is ready,” Curtis said from behind me. I had used my camp stove and water to cook the last of my freeze-dried food. Walking over, I made us both a bowl and then sat down again at the mouth of the cave, looking out.