WORLD WAR III? … l’union fait la force!

WORLD WAR III: USA VS. RUSSIA? — Revisiting “The tunnel at the end of time”. When the book was first released in 2010, many saw it as extreme sci-fi. Now it seems rather real.

From the intro to Tunnel at the end of time:

Funny about the military missile

platforms in space.

Only one-third of them are pointed

to Terra; the rest are pointing

to outer space.

Presenting the introduction to “The tunnel at the end of time” (the sci-fi novel which takes conspiracy theory and religious propaganda to their extreme … and beyond). Introduction written by Adam Donaldson Powell and azSacra zaRathustra.

(photo courtesy of azSacra zaRathustra)

PART ONE: LEFT AND RIGHT HANDS OF THE GODS.

Это возникало из – за щитов …

из – за ракет, которых “там” не было сначала,

но которые будут “здесь” в конечном счёте.

Yes, the shields … humans are born with them,

much as angels are born with wings.

It is propaganda, of course …

the truth has always been an existential relativity.

Funny …

They say I am balding … getting old and senile.

But the truth is that I have always been bald.

I am “Transforma” … the symbol of the old

empire now fallen.

I am … the bearer of vision and conscience.

I am … the judge and the predator.

I am … the eagle.

We saw it coming, didn’t we “Vrebatima”?

I kept silent … and no one believed you.

But who is laughing now?

Yes, only us …

The Armageddon was inevitable …

We needed it, and so we created it.

But it is only illusion …

Только иллюзия.

No illusions!

No delusions!

We knew only the Truth of Destruction!

We – Über! … and my one-legged

father taught me only how to kill:

kill Buddha!

kill Hitler!

kill yourself!

my mother – Nothing, but older

and more sorrowful …

my father – Nobody, but more merciless

and sadder …

Look: my daughter goes from Emptiness

to Emptiness in order to kill every tear

before her birth:

And now Absence doesn’t cry anymore,

Emptiness doesn’t spend any more money

on funerals –

that’s the Truth of Non-existence!

“Nothing” is my mother –

“Nobody” is my father –

and there are no tears between

them

Nein!

левая рука Бога?

Ahh, the left hand of God!

yes, I saw it once: floating

over the Sahara.

Little did I then know that

it was the rosebud of Intervention.

Who could have guessed?

It danced so gracefully, like

Salome’s dance of the veils –

stirring up a frenzy of sand

against the windless sky

I miss the slithering creepy-crawlers

which once tattled the mysteries

of the night. They are long gone;

as are the polar bears, the whales,

the crocodiles, the bees and the sharks.

What have you done, Terrans?

What were you thinking?

Lost in meditations upon finances

and power, you lost sight of the

greatest wealth you owned.

And you crowded only a few

humanoids onto your hastily-built

arks when the floods and dis-ease

ravaged so mercilessly.

Some called it the work of

the antichrist, but the antichrist

was humanity itself: which

had been too long on the rampage

of greed and apathy and imbalance.

You raped and you raped;

and defiled both humanity and

nature.

A barren Terra wails but we

are not comforters Vrebatima.

(nods)

We are merely the scribes

who observe and note the

crimes for future reflection.

Tell me a story Vrebatima,

but allow me to keep my Buddha.

I have nothing else.

Tell me again about the

fires and the tsunamis and

the screaming; and

the fallen Buddha statues.

Поведайте мне Vrebatima …

сообщите мне!

Break with your emptiness

and violate the nothingness,

Vrebatima.

Tell me about the dried-out

moss on the floors of the

naked forests, and of the

sad Russian lullabies sung

by the dying hummingbirds.

Remind me of the carcasses –

long since picked clean by

crows that had become vultures

out of necessity of survival.

Jog my memory, O Vrebatima:

сообщите мне!

Believe: in the Sacred Rats.

The Execution of the world is –

the execution of a Ritual.

An angel, rushing down,

made a heart-rending cry:

Let rats fuck their daughters;

coin dolls born from the

Dollar –

On the gold of their fathers

fucked in manure …

Let rats fuck their daughters!

…………………………

Power

Power of prices alone –

ascending from the worthless world

to Zero:

0000000000000000000000!

After zeros

(instead of bullets)

only holes are left –

0000000000000000000000!

There are no more

Great Chinese Walls!

The decay!

The Empire died like

a pitiful trembling

rabbit.

In cash-machines there is

a “share” for each –

the Universe will no more be

rammed through by the hawk.

It’s clear now:

God didn’t die –

the Will died …

Der Wille zur Macht?

Nein! –

Das Nichts zur Macht!

Das Leere zur Herrschaft!

0000000000000000000000000!

I am fucked … we are all fucked.

The Great Bear is howling in

the Siberian woods …

and Vrebatima has hunger

in her soul – as do I.

Our forefathers were perhaps

foolish to give up the Cold Wars,

to kill Saddam Hussein and

to invade Afghanistan.

I followed the Sacred Rat,

and he deceived me

time and time again …

fucked me up real good.

As the leading superpowers

we had control – and we

agreed to disagree, making secret

strategies together, for viewing

and consumption by the world.

The people of the world were stupid.

They never understood the farce …

that every argument and action

was contracted and choreographed.

We provided both excitement and

the security of balance.

But now we have lost our rhythm,

and our equilibrium is shaky at best.

I miss the rat …

Do you still remember how to

dance Vrebatima?

You used to be so elegant …

a true Russian princess.

Let me rest my beak on your

womb my beautiful predator;

and please caress the feathered

nape of my neck with your

claw – two unlikely lovers

baring resemblance visible

only to the initiated:

of beak and claw, both royalty and

scavengers of the spoils

of imbalance.

Where is Buddha? He has

disappeared from the mountaintop.

And where is Christ? He has

descended from the cross.

(It was cold here on Terra,

and we needed the wood.)

They are both having tea

with Nietzsche, who is

dressed up like a ballet dancer.

Where am I, Vrebatima?

I am lost in my own transformation …

in the winter of my own samadhi.

Wake me up from my dreams …

but let me hold onto my illusions

and my delusions.

I need the escape … I crave the drug.

Maya is heroin for the tired soul.

I am fucked …

I am …

I …

Ich –

Ich bin –

Ich bin tot –

Ich tot bin!

I – Vrebatima! Я – Mahakala!

I – Yama! I – Shiva, dancing

only on corpses …

I – Destroyer of this

too (super-too!) human

Universe!

I – Bhairava, but not rapturous

God Eros –

to hell with sex, Transforma:

Cut off the balls of each

inamorato!

Shoot off the head of each

beautiful doll!

I – des Todes Tod –

I – Clear Death –

The ABSOLUTE OF ATTACKING DEATH!

For: all “people” are riffraff!

For: Transcendence Itself

and He who transcends wants to drink

their blood and shoot them down!

What, Transforma, didn’t you

know that?

Didn’t you feel the Clearest

Unevitable Essence of Death?

I – DESTRUCTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I – ABSOLUTE SPIRITUAL BREACH!

NO PITIFUL REMNANTS!

In the ass are fucked

only yelping sluts …

… all soft ottomans

have been shat on by young

pussycats …

But Nietzsche ordered

to bomb Las Vegas!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Funny about the military missile

platforms in space.

Only one-third of them are pointed

to Terra; the rest are pointing

to outer space.

Man is a predator out-of-control;

a soul-virus and a threat

to the whole universe.

I mourn for the aliens who were

tortured and killed by us, in

order to steal their intelligence.

Information we were not ready

to use properly, and which led

to our own demise as a world.

And the Intervention (says the

voice in Transforma’s head).

(sighs)

And the damned garbage floating

around in the Terra orbit system …

as below – so above.

What? Shhhh! (says Transforma

to the voice in his head)

The old USA was a “whore-goddess” …

a giant golden vagina with penis-like

hairs, hoarding and fucking and

standardizing all in its path.

“In God We Trust, and his name is

Dollar.”

Blah, blah, blah …

and all that blaehhhh …

(Transforma laughs hysterically,

then sobs, and hiccups and farts.)

You know, you tell me to

forget about sex … but

did you know that

I was once fucked by the

finger of the God?

It is true; by the middle finger

of his right hand.

Impaled, like the Spaniards who

were forced by the Incas to sit on

sharpened tree stumps until

their guts exploded … as

punishment for their greed for gold.

Yeah … (thoughtfully). Impaled.

At my moment of death I saw the

Sky of the Last Days; the Destruction

was a magnificent show:

beautiful pink, orange and purple

skies, with mushroom clouds as far

as the eye could see – and beyond.

And all was so quiet, too;

except for the gentle lullaby that

hummed in my head.

Сладкая колыбельная.

Сон – это спасение… отсрочка.

Sweet lullaby.

Sleep is salvation … reprieve.

To my left there is a child in

tattered clothing, half-starved and

too resigned to beg anymore …

and to my right there is

a whirling dervish, spinning

’round and ’round – lost in

his own private ecstasy.

Both are barefoot.

Alas, there is no death …

only sleep.

Are you listening, Transforma?

Ich ist das Nichts zur Macht!

Ich ist das Leere zur Herrschaft!

Between us there can’t be

Any Harmony.

Between you there can’t be

any Germany.

The Fair Eagle of Severe Spirituality

has died forever.

The Chinese “I Ching” hexagrams

didn’t turn into Ravenous Beasts.

Confucius is not inspired by

the voids of “Mein Kampf”.

But, Transforma … Tao killed the

dragons in vain –

Now bullets won’t

find the revolver!

Nobody will shoot

The Yellow Emperor!

People forgot:

God’s Dick – is the Ram of the Sky! –

The Аmerican Saturating Revolution

is not worth even a single dick of the

japanese kamikazes!

Europeans …

pleasant Takheshi Khitano

will never repeat the hara-kiri of

Yukio Mishima.

Look –

exponent of piffling lives

“life of spirit” after suicide by

Hitler.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare

as the mountaintop on

which we stand.

Our new vision shall

rise from the ashes,

as the Phoenix.

And I shall learn

to love you Vrebatima.

If not, then we shall

ride the missile of Hell

together – bareback …

(snickers)

a crazy cossack

and a psycho cowboy

Azrael is my witness …

we will never die …

only our bodies will wither

and disintegrate to dust

and we shall be remembered

in the annals of history …

perhaps as mere footnotes

remembered only by trivia fanatics

in decades to come.

But I will always dream of

our voyage, Vrebatima –

over and over again,

like a merry-go-round that

never stops, changing simple

joy to horror.

A bittersweet nightmare …

If only the dreamer would

never wake up.

Can you promise me that …

Vrebatima?

Бритый

yes, I love my bald dreams …

and Russian caviar.

worms …

only worms …

now only worms are – Holy! –

always continuing, creeping through

dead God …

Snakes slide away …

Rats run away …

The Mystery of Creatures wakes even God up …

But when Jesus hears the word “culture” –

He doesn’t take out a revolver:

John Lennon can masturbate,

jump, masturbate, jump,

masturbate, and jump

on and on …

Do you see, Transforma –

even Lord Krishna left the Battlefield

and took Arjuna with him.

What for, O Lord?

To fuck Saint Silvia

in two holes.

Do you understand?

Gods and people – are only the Spirit’s Porno!

Ja! Ja! Ja! –

Buddha’s ejaculation into His own

Skull!

Nobody wants to eat

corpses of sybaritic

natives …

Germans?

Where are the marching

Germans?

… there are no Wild

Holy Exotics …

… no one exercises

in Breaching of the Spirit …

… there’s no one to be fed to

the rats …

… the blood stopped to look for

Light …

…a dick doesn’t thirst for twats

of the Sun …

………………..

ex nihilo nihil fit.

satori?

samadhi?

Shun’ja!

(photo courtesy of azSacra zaRathustra)

PART TWO: THE GREAT ENDING OF THE END.

ego cogito, ergo sum?

Auf!

Auf! Nicht röcheln!

Nicht röcheln!

cogito Todt Ist,

sum ist Summa Summarum

Nichts =

Nein ist Nichts!

Auf –

Nicht!

Here is the Key to it all:

Nichts Nichts Nichts

das Nichts zur Macht!

das Leere zur Herrschaft!

(sobs)

You undress my gods shamelessly,

Vrebatima!

I huddle and shiver in the shadows

of my own spirituality.

There is no god but God …

and I am God – naked

and exposed in the face of

my own and collective

illusions and indiscretions.

What is the use?

Billions upon billions of gods

running around, making their

own realities in confusion.

Let us cut out the spiritual pork!

Bring back the Age of the Guru …

and bring back the Prophets.

It is too much responsibility to

be my own god.

Tell me what to believe …

show me how to act.

Lead me back into the

Darkness.

The Darkness of the Eternal Womb …

the elixir of Nothingness.

I am not a Dark Tao. I’m not Nirvana.

I am not Om ……………………..

I am – Isana. I am – Nataraja.

I am – the Clear Transcendent of Death.

I am – The Left Hand of God –

and I can only Kill.

I Kill all the Truths.

And first of all – Myself

as a Truth …

I AM – ABSOLUTE BREACH OF SPIRIT!

That’s why – Killing myself! –

I know for sure:

Western gods – shit!

Eastern gods – huge

manure heap!

I know! – the old Will to Power

should be replaced with Nothing to Reign:

das Nichts zur Macht!

I see! – The Great Noon should

turn Emptiness into Domination:

das Leere zur Herrschaft!

The existing formulas are not enough:

“Be strong”, “Werdet hart” …

Now you should Kill

“yourself” – within Yourself …

and even –

the Omnipotent within you!

Exactly so! It is only by killing the Omnipotent,

that you can understand the last

Truth of Horrors’ Horrors:

“The Devil is Dead” – it is truly more

horrifying, than “God is dead”.

O Great Gods! You are – Stinkers! –

too many of you … but You are all still

alive. What a Lie …

only one Devil is the Spirit of Honour! –

because he is always dead.

Deus est mortuus?

Diabolos mortuus est!

I stand naked before you, Vrebatima …

yeah – even naked before myself

and the god within me.

I have faced Death,

but Death was only mortality:

an experience that I longed for

only because it was faceless.

Hiding a secret that no one

really cared about anyway.

I am not proud, Vrebatima.

I weep for Amerika …

and the “dream” …

long since exposed as illusion.

Yea, I am naked and dirty, Vrebatima

… and blinded by the sunshine

reflected on the snowcaps.

I hear you … but you must

court me if I am to believe you.

I only know Détente …

I have never known Love.

Silence is greater than

the absence of Noise.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare.

It is in the Nothingness

that I find meaning, and there

that my Existence has value.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare …

stripped of all intent;

an existence devoid of fear

and purpose.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare

as the Now … the moment,

of Silence …

without expectation or

apprehension.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare …

as the word “no” –

whispered in orgasmic

ecstasy.

бритый

Bald … barren … bare …

stripped of all humanity

and self-respect

by the airport scanners.

Also sprach Zarathustra:

Gelobt sei, was hart macht!

Naked? … But that’s not enough –

you need more,

you need to strip your skin off

while still alive:

reveal your bones –

reveal your intestines –

reveal your Emptiness!

Aha! … Transforma demanded

“to cut the spiritual pork out of gods” –

and suddenly … immediately surrendered

without a battle.

Spiritual rebellion but for a moment?

Do you only wish to “suck off” the Gods? –

in this case Hölderlin will question you with severity.

It’s better to be like Lord Krishna –

to fuck the 100 000 beautiful gopis

immediately and all at once.

But it is – the same decadence, Transforma!

Better yet, let me quote

“The Dhammapada” for You:

He killed his mother and father, and two kings from

Kshatriya’s caste, destroyed the kingdom together

with its population, the brahmin became imperturbable –
Does it mean anything to you?

Here are the words regarding Spiritual Luxury from the regal

“Bhagavad-Gita”:

I have become Death,

I have become the shatterer of worlds!

Kill the Gods, Transforma!

Kill this eternal whining, crying, quaggy,

tear-dropping god Eros!

Kill your own dick!

Exterminate all the stupid lovers,

poets, readers, spectators of Your

Exhibitionist mania –

shoot them all down!

As earlier in old, good Germany,

we will talk in the language

of the Clear Transcendent –

Transzendentalphilosophie!

THE HIGHER TRANSCENDENT IS SHAPED FROM NOTHING –

WITHOUT dicks!

WITHOUT twats!

Only – “das Ding an sich”!

Do you know that Kant was good at shooting

with his “Shmaiser”?

hitting: 10 out of 10!

And can you do that?

I remember, that in “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”

the following was written:

There will be a time –

Hitler constantly shooting himself

might miss sometime

and make a hole in somebody’s head –

it will be Your head, Transforma!

It is so mulish

that even Buddha could break

a stick against it …

Bang! …

How many sticks are necessary to break

against your bald head?

The Right hand of God should do

more than just masturbate.

Stop wasting seed

and tears …

Buddha said: no more Existence!

THERE WILL NEVER BE EXISTENCE!!!

Nullpunkt!

Nichts!

………………

Schreibe mit Blut:

und du wirst erfahren,

dass Blut Geist ist.

Vrebatima, surely I will never

reconcile with you in this world.

The old rules worked just fine

until recently; money, power,

greed and the threat of missiles

and sex have always been

our personal gods.

Do not fool yourself.

I will send you some beautiful

black orchids, dripping with

the blood of one thousand

national anthems … and then

you will understand and

once again cry tears of joy

for our lost Cold War.

It was our only hope for peace.

Our only real expression of Love.

The only proof of Existence.

What is the use of Divine Intervention?

What was the point of the crucifixion

or the Holy Wars?

If we achieve peace then we must

find new enemies in outer space …

it is the way of humans, Vrebatima.

It is the way of the Warrior God.

Meet me at nightfall – in the barren courtyard.

And bring your Sword of Silence!

… this and then there is Victory?

I will quickly draw a Sword of Silence,

strike a blow –

and Silence has already approached …

………………………..

… ……………………

(sobs)

… and so it ends, Vrebatima.

In cold silence – détente.

Once again we agree not to

communicate, not to seek

resolution or understanding.

Is it really human nature and

the way of the gods, or is it us?

If it is truly destruction that we

both really want, then surely it is

Silence that is the Great Destroyer.

(sighs)

It is an uncomfortable silence, hostile and

fraught with projections and scheming.

It is a “noisy” silence … quite different

from the Oneness of Unity and

the Absence of Separation.

It is a silence that makes angels and

the soldiers of Divine Intervention

cry with sadness.

(indignant)

But it is a silence that we know

all too well, Vrebatima …

and so far, the only silence

we truly trust – deep down

inside ourselves.

(snickers nervously)

Es triste … pero es cierto.

Be afraid of the Absence of

Evil:

not the dark,

not the beast,

not the blade,

not the poison –

but the Tear Itself will kill

the child!

The Grass Itself will kill

the lamb!

Not the shadow,

not the tiger –

but the Aroma and the Rose will kill

you!

I saw the terror of the first flower

on a Spring Field:

alone – it didn’t want

to bloom for the Sky …

didn’t expose

itself to a Kindred Sun

and the first dew

trickled down it

and the first moth

was startled by it

and the first bee

flew away

show Your Nothingness on

the petals!

expose Yourself

without any blooming!

You are – the Void

without name

and shape …

Come from

Nothing …

And Again

Vanish …

Expose yourself – and wake up.

Yes … wake up.

Wake up and

destroy the dream.

Embrace the nightmare

of Nothingness.

Caress the baldness.

Lick the Sword of Silence.

Stop waiting for Divine Intervention.

Become the Divine Intervention.

Let it be your zazen.

Sing me a lullaby without words,

and without sound.

I no longer believe in the messiah …

or in the antichrist.

I see both in my own reflection

in the mirror of darkness.

The only tears that I have left

are tears of blood …

it is only blood that I can offer you,

Vrebatima.

Tear down the cross and

send the virgins home.

I, Transforma, will sit on my mountaintop

and you, Vrebatima, will sit on yours.

We will bridge our differences by

watching over the goings on and

when necessary – cooperating on

keeping the populace in blindness.

Together, we will maintain the smokescreen,

with the help of religion and the media.

Always a sideshow on the stage of consciousness …

distracting the masses from the real danger:

the sweet-sounding lies that soothe and abet.

I believe in the worms, Vrebatima …

and the unspeakable names of

the gods within all who both embrace

and cower in Darkness.

Tear down the cross and

send the virgins home.

THE END.

Photo: azSacra zaRathustra (courtesy azSacra zaRathustra)

Photo: Adam Donaldson Powell (courtesy Adam Donaldson Powell)

THIS WORK IS THE INTRODUCTION TO MY BOOK ENTITLED “THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME”. ORDER “THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME” AND SEVERAL OF MY OTHER BOOKS FROM CYBERWIT.NET OR AMAZON.COM

EXCERPT FROM THE NOVEL:

ACT 10: “Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us!” Hamlet Act I sc. 4

“Lugh, work your way towards me, this one seems to be following me, and has at least one guard with him.”

“On my way, ‘Ifafi. Same here. I think we need to be in as open a space as possible – towards the center of the dome.”

“Agreed. On my way.”

As the pair converged towards the center of the dome, ‘Ifafi grasped the handle of Ga’s sword which was still sheathed, and loosened the tie of his cloak. As soon as they were within eye contact of each other, both ‘Ifafi and Lugh turned towards their adversaries which were advancing a few yards behind them.

Addressing them with all the authority of his angelic presence, ‘Ifafi stated “I don’t know who you really are, or what this little masquerade game is all about, but it will soon be over. We will find the real Niall and this charade will end.”

“No, it is over for you.” The Ekbar double closest to ‘Ifafi responded as he pulled out a gun.

‘Ifafi shucked his cloak and drew Ga’s sword simultaneously. A shot rang out, but was deflected by a lightening fast swing of the sword, as ‘Ifafi took wing towards his adversary faster than Lugh had ever seen any angel move, and with another fierce swing of the sword, the head of the fake Ekbar/Niall was rolling on the floor. The other Ekbar and his companion began to flee, as had anyone else within view. Lugh took flight giving chase, but the elusive doppelganger apparently also had an escape route planned as he disappeared into a hidden panel behind an information kiosk.

“I’ve lost him, damn it.” Lugh transmitted to ‘Ifafi.

“Let him go, I just got a mental image from Ga, we are needed below. Meet me back here. This poor bastard was just wearing a mask.”

By the time Lugh got back to ‘Ifafi, a small crowd of bold, but curious onlookers were beginning to advance as were a number of security force members. “We have to leave, now.” Ifafi said to Lugh who was looking at the unmasked dismembered head lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

“’Ifafi, remind me not to piss you off.”

“Yeah, that was a bit messy wasn’t it.” ‘Ifafi half-chuckled as the pair quickly made their way to their well-planned exit.

Back on Alpha Level, upon realizing the enormity of the conspiracy upon seeing the body of the Prefect laying before him, Ga had paused to send the image to ‘Ifafi.

Turning back to the Sergeant, Ga stated “I must return to our headquarters. Join your men. If you can apprehend one of these fake Ekbars, then do so, I have many questions. If you must wound one to do it, so be it. There has been enough killing here today, but the one we seek is not here. This has been a distraction, a ploy. I will not take a life without reason. Beware, they will have many allies and accomplices, even among the security forces. It is likely they will attempt to lead you into a trap. Keep them out in the open if possible, but they seek me, and my team. I will not be made the fool.”

“Yes sir.” replied the Sergeant.

Grasping the dagger from the body of the Prefect, Ga wiped the blade on the tunic of the body, and returned the weapon to his belt. He then grasped the small device Ulrich had given him as he turned to return to the security offices. “Ulrich, it is more critical than ever that you get to Epsilon Level and make your preparations. We need to immediately shut down all outside access to the facility. No one must leave, and no one must enter. He is still here, and I must make sure he stays here.”

“You’re correct that he is here, Ga, I picked up a faint signal from the NSA chip just a second ago. It appeared to be inside the tunnels, but it was too weak and to brief to get an accurate fix. I have picked up no less than twenty of these fakes though, all throughout the facility. Who the hell are they?”

“They are part of a deception, but also an elaborate plan to distract and ensnare us. One of them was no less than the Prefect himself. His body lies in the main corridor of Alpha level, near the entrance. They are wearing masks.”

“Holy shit! If the Prefect is involved, anyone can be suspect.”

“Exactly. Now you see why your mission is so critical. Do not fail me, Ulrich. All rides on your success now.”

“I shall make all possible haste, Ga. I will not fail.”

“Thank you, Ulrich. Keep me posted.”

Within minutes, ‘Ifafi and Lugh had returned to Alpha Level, and rejoined Ga at their makeshift headquarters in the security offices.

‘Ifafi looked around and asked, “Where’s Ulrich?”

“He’s on his way with the Lieutenant and two other trusted officers to Epsilon Level to hopefully set both our trap and our failsafe.”

“Good. What the hell are all these Niall/Ekbar look-alikes all about?”

“Obviously, it was Niall’s plan to distract and ensnare us down here, but there must be some other motive to it as well that I haven’t quite figured out yet. It is way too elaborate to be just a hoax, and way too transparent to be just a trap for us. Right now, I am assuming that is also a way to mask his own escape from this facility. He wants us to be chasing ghosts, so to speak, while he carries out whatever plans he has. I refuse to play his game.” Ga replied as sternly and angrily as ‘Ifafi had ever seen him.

“So what exactly is your plan?” Lugh asked.

“Ulrich discovered that the original plans for this facility, before the intervention changed everything, was to have the central operations center housed in a rather secure area on Epsilon Level. After the intervention, the newer facilities where our quarters were, were constructed. However, they left the original ops center abandoned, but still fully functional – as some sort of back-up, apparently. Ulrich believes he can bypass both the new ops center on level II and take control of all the environmental systems and other systems housed down on Zeta level as well. That is if Niall has been careless enough to overlook the old ops center and hasn’t done any major redesigns of the old systems that were down there. At the very least, we should be able to seal off the entire facility so that no one can enter or leave.”

“Ah, so whatever he has planned, you intend to trap him here with us.” ‘Ifafi replied.

“Exactly. He will have to come to us.”

There are only three of us. Ulrich will be totally absorbed in his duties.” Lugh interjected.

“I am aware that we are spreading ourselves thin. We have a few members of the security forces. You haven’t met my new friend, the Sergeant. I believe he knows this place as well as anyone, and was loyal in my brief battle with the Prefect. I believe I have a way to tilt the odds a bit more in our favor as well. We will address that shortly, and I shall need your help. Which brings me to your escapade in the dome, ‘Ifafi.”

‘Ifafi seemed to almost blush. Lugh had never seen quite that reaction in an Angel. “Ga, if it’s about your sword, it wasn’t damaged. I just reacted. It was all I had.”

“It’s not about the sword, I’m glad it defended you well. However, we must give you both a few lessons in subtlety. Flying around the central dome in full few of literally thousands of humans and aliens is not exactly keeping a low profile.”

At just that moment, the device in Ga’s ear buzzed again lightly. “Yes, Ulrich. Speak.”

“I’m on Epsilon Level, but it wasn’t without incident. We were attacked by one of the Ekbar clones or whatever you want to call them and his entourage. The Lieutenant is dead. I was grazed by a stray shot. The other two security guards with me managed to kill the two guards with him, and wound the fake Ekbar, but he escaped.”

“Are you certain it was one of the fakes?” Ga asked.

“Yes, at that distance, and with whatever he is using to cloak the signal, I would have been able to pick up at least some trace of the NSA chip.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, just a slight flesh wound. Looks far worse than it really is.”

“Very well. We shall join you as soon as we can. Start your operation as quickly as you are able.”

“We must hurry now. Ulrich may have been detected and I don’t want to give Niall a chance to figure out what we are up to. I just wish I knew what his scheme is.” Ga stated flatly to ‘Ifafi and Lugh.

Deep below, now on Zeta Level, the real Ekbar/Niall was moving forward with his plan. He had managed to have constructed, under the prefect’s forged authority, a rather elaborate bunker, apartment, and suite of offices. He summoned his closest accomplice, a young human, who had been the Prefect’s Aide de Camp, Arthur Kent. Arthur, only twenty-three years of age, was descended from old British royal bloodlines and very much acted the part – always very formal, and his education and training very evident.

“Yes sir, you called?” the young man responded as he opened the door to Niall’s private office.

“Yes, how is our plan proceeding?”

“I’m sorry to report, sir, that the Prefect is dead. He was killed on Alpha level by Ga. ‘Ifafi and Lugh managed to escape the dome after killing an operative there. Ulrich was spotted in the tunnels somewhere near the entrance to Delta Level, but managed to elude our operative there, but was apparently wounded in the battle. We presume that ‘Ifafi and Lugh have re-joined Ga by now, but we still have not figured out how they are moving so quickly and freely, or why Ulrich had gone deeper into the facility alone, save for his security escort.”

“Bloody incompetents, all of them, especially our esteemed Prefect. I should have killed that bastard myself and Ga would have been dead by now. All of this masquerade business seemed ridiculously complex anyway, but it may yet serve its purpose. Well, it is of no matter, Ga and his team will die if I have to kill everyone on Alpha and Beta levels to do it, which is precisely our next move. Have Wilhelm prepare to flood both levels with the nerve gas agent.”

“Yes sir, but don’t you want to try to get at least some of our operatives out first? Also, should I send another team to search for Ulrich?”

“That would be my first choice, Arthur, but I don’t want to do anything to tip my hand to these … these … abominations. They must die. Nothing must interfere with the master plan. Ulrich is of no consequence, we shall eliminate him later. Arthur, you are too young to understand, but this has taken years to prepare. Some sacrifices are necessary. Were it not for the Divine Intervention, and the meddling of this infernal Federation, this would have all happened in 2012. People like you and I have been chosen to rule this planet. We have been given an opportunity like none other in human history. We have spent generations controlling genetics to achieve a superior race, and with our technology, the messy business of pairings and breeding is no longer even necessary. The day of the eugenics wars has arrived, and we shall be the master race – the only race. It is the next step in evolution. First however, we must eliminate … well … the undesirables. The engineered viruses stockpiled here and in sister facilities in Archangelsk and Brazil will be released on what is now left of the population of this planet, and will spread globally within seventy-two hours. The irony of the plan is that the very vaccines given to most of the population over the past generation to fight various other engineered viruses such as certain strains of influenza, and even HIV, were specifically designed to actually break down other parts of the human immune system, making it one hundred percent vulnerable to the weapon we shall release soon, while we and others like us, who truly have nothing to fear from this little bug, just sit back and watch.”

“Yes sir, I truly do understand, but there is something I have always wondered about. Won’t there be a few undesirables who may not be affected – some that for whatever reason weren’t vaccinated?”

“Probably, but they will be so few as to be insignificant, and can be easily found and eliminated in other ways This facility, and the few others like it, will finally serve its original purpose. Now, though, back to the business at hand. How long to prepare the gas for Alpha and Beta Levels?”

“At least ten to twelve hours, sir. It will have to be done manually and carefully to ensure there are no leaks down here. All the safeguards are yet to be tested.”

“Very well. Well let’s get it ready, but I’ll signal you before we begin. Make all haste.”

Back on Alpha Level, Ulrich was calling again and had instructed Ga on how to put him on the speakers at the terminal he had been using, ” I’m in, and I now have control of the computers down here. It looks like everything is just as I thought. I have also established a link to our com system back in our quarters. I have just gotten a communication from Lysiel. It appears that the Federation agents in Buenos Aires have good news. Chavez, the brain behind the anti-NWO militia movement in South America, has been captured. And secondly, Ilya (Antonin and Niall’s accomplice) has just broken down in an interrogation round and he has revealed some significant information about Niall.”

“Yeah?” replied Ga eagerly.

“It would seem that Ilya was the one who hypnotized Niall years ago when his microchip was first inserted.”

“Hypnotized?” exclaimed ‘Ifafi. “For what?!!”

“Well, apparently it was part of the indoctrination procedures back then. But the important thing for us to know is that Ilya gave Niall a hypnotic suggestion that would help him to control his microchip detection. The suggestion was in the form of a code word.”

“Yeah, well? Spit it out man!” said an agitated Ga.

.
“The code word is: ‘cage’, and every time Ilya hears that word his microchip signal is disabled — essentially making him invisible.”

“Can Niall control this himself … and does he know about it?”

“Apparently, they think that the only ones that know the code word are Antonin and Ilya. And, by the way, that was the other news: Antonin is dead — he committed suicide before he could be transported to the rehabilitation facility on Zeta Reticuli. The threat of deportation was what got Ilya to crack under the last interrogation. It must be quite a nasty place if these NWO guys are so afraid of it,” said Ulrich.

“No nastier than the NWO-facilities right here on Terra,” said ‘Ifafi with a smirk. “Besides, I have it on good knowledge from Lysiel that we are closing in on the ‘Big R’s’, and that they also will soon be transported to rehabilitation centers. So it will soon be a ‘status symbol’ to become rehabilitated. Personally, I feel that those ruling NWO and Illuminati family members need to be tarred, feathered and run off this planet as soon as possible … I am not even certain that rehabilitation of them is possible!” They both sniggered, and ‘Ifafi continued: “But didn’t Niall use ‘the cages have been opened’ or something like that when all this started? I’m guessing he must know and be using it. Maybe Antonin told him the code word.”

“Let us hope not, and perhaps the phrase including the code word is Antonin’s idea of a ruse. Sounds like his sick sense of humor. Well, well … this explains Niall’s disappearances on our surveillance system, and it also gives us some leverage. We must be VERY CAREFUL not to use the word ‘cage’ around him … and also to cut him off every time we think he will use the word himself,” said Ga thoughtfully.

“Cut him off?” asked Ulrich.

“Yeah,” replied Ga. “ ‘Ifafi and I must try to read his consciousness and thought patterns in detail every time we are in communication with him in order to anticipate what he might say. It is a good thing that Antonin is gone and that Ilya is under control… But this is very good news, that Chavez has been finally caught. The Federation is fighting against both the NWO and the anti-NWO militia groups, and Chavez’ groups were really starting to be a huge problem for us. I also must assume that Ilya, and Antonin are vital components of whatever the master plan is, and that Niall doesn’t know they are out of the picture. Alright then Ulrich, we will be joining you in a couple of hours or so down there. So finish your preparations quickly. Good work!”

“Will do, Thank you, sir.”

About that time, the Sergeant came in with a shackled and bloody unmasked Niall’s double in tow.

“Sergeant, you managed to catch one.” Ga stated with a smile.

“It wasn’t easy, sir, as soon as we picked him up, a mob started to attack us, until I grabbed his face and peeled the mask off and laid down some crowd dispersal gas canisters. I guess they figured a fake wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Very good Sergeant, what happened to the other one?”

“Dunno. He just vanished. Obviously there was some planned panic escape. I’ve been here since the place was first opened to non-CIA personnel in 2009, and I thought I knew every escape hole there was, but that guy simply vanished.”

“Do you know this one we caught?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Smythe. He was the head of the communications section last I knew. He was in charge of all the telecommunications functions of the entire facility.”

“Thank you, Sergeant McConnell. Meet the rest of my team, this is my partner, ‘Ifafi, and our dear friend, Lugh.”

“Very pleased indeed.” The Sergeant stated, shaking both their hands.

“Sergeant, Please cuff our friend here to that chair, hands behind him, and please excuse us. We don’t have time for the usual interviews and shall have to use some unorthodox interrogation methods that you probably don’t need to see.”

The sergeant grinned broadly and quickly complied with the request and exited the room.

“What are you going to do to me?” the prisoner asked.

“We are only going to find out what you know.” Ga stated flatly.

“I am former MI-6. I will tell you NOTHING.”

“Oh, I suspected as much. You don’t have to, but I hope there won’t be any permanent brain damage.”

“Brain damage?” the man’s eyes widened as the three angels approached him, shedding their cloaks with their wings beginning to stretch.

“Ifafi, Lugh, join me if you will.”

Ga placed his left hand on the man’s head. ‘Ifafi placed his right hand on Ga’s shoulder. Lugh placed his left hand on Ga’s opposite shoulder. The man began to tremble noticeably as his eyes rolled back in his head. Soon, the man began to scream.

After the Sergeant dragged the unconscious prisoner from the room. Ga turned to his companions. “If what this man knew is even close to accurate, it is time to summon some help immediately. Then we shall join Ulrich on Epsilon Level.

Conjuration of the sword.

‘Ifafi, Lugh,. I need your assistance here in an angelic ritual. Lock the door.”

Lugh locked the door, and they were directed to assume their places in the Great Triangle of Angelic Strength, which had been marked onto the floor with chalk. ‘Ifafi was on the left hand side of the triangle, Lugh was on the right hand side and Ga faced them at the apex of the triangle. Inside the triangle was a plinth supporting a large purple candle, which had been inscribed with various symbols from the Universal Language of Light and Latin words. The candle had been annointed with eucalyptus oil, and it burned a strong and steady flame.

Ga raised his sword above the flame from the purple candle in the center of the angelic triangle and began to recite in Latin the “Conjuration of the Sword” from the Grimorium Verum:

“Te Gladi, Vos Gladias, trea Nomine Sancto, Albrot, Abracadabra, Jehova elico. Estote meum castellumque praesidium contra omnium hostes, conspicuusque nonconspicuus, in quisque magiceum opum. Nomeno Sancto Saday, qui est in imperium magnum, et his alio nomine: Cados, Cados, Cados, Adonai, Elohi, Zena, Oth, Ochimanuel, primoque ultimo, Sapientia, Via, Vita, Virto, Principio, Oso, Otatie, Splendoro, Luce, Sol, Fono, Gloria, Mono, Porta, Vite, Lape, Scipio, Sacredo, Pravo, Messiah, Gladi in omnium meum negotia regnas et in illos res quem me resistunt, vincite. Amen.”

He then looked at ‘Ifafi and Lugh and asked them to chant the invocation together with him … in all thirty-three times. Lugh thought he would pass out by the time they reached the 29th invocation but a stern look from ‘Ifafi prompted him to snap out of his drowsiness. As they completed the thirty-third incantation Ga proceeded to consecrate his sword with the Power of Archangel Michael:

“Oh Holy One – Angelic Warrior of Warriors. I beseech Thee to lend me the power of Thy Holy Sword and the sharpness of Thy Mind in my battle with the Antikristus … herewith known as Niall. May the force of Holy Strength and the Light of Angelic Conviction be forged from Thy Sword unto mine. In the Name of the Almighty — the Name only recognizable in the scream of the infant at the moment of birth and the final gasp of the dying mortal at life’s transition – I stand before you O Archangel Michael and ask you to embody my consciousness, my Spirit, my Mind, my Body and my Sword for the next twenty-four hours. I am at your service O Lord. In the Name of the Almighty, and in the presence of my two angelic witnesses in this sacred Triangle, I tell you verily that: I AM MICHAEL … I AM … THE SWORD!”

And with that the flame in the purple candle was suddenly snuffed out but the room was all but consumed by Darkness. Ga had taken on the spiritual energy and visage of Archangel Michael and had begun to glow and vibrate with an amazing intensity, never before experienced by the angels conducting the ritual. Ga appeared to have grown to over two meters high in stature and his sword was ablaze with the power of Divine Light. Lugh’s mouth was hanging open in amazement, and ‘Ifafi just grinned from ear to ear while mumbling: “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!”

The sword was so powerful that Ga could barely hold it steady at first. It seemed to weigh 20 times what it normally did, and the slightest movement had enormous swing to it. They broke the triangle and ‘Ifafi and Lugh were sent to retrieve their own swords. When they returned minutes later they were challenged by Ga to a two-on-one practice duel. They were without a chance or a prayer … Ga’s new-found agility, strength and directness of mind could not be matched even by two against one.

“I think I am getting the hang of this now,” grinned Ga.

“Kewl!” exclaimed Lugh. “Could I try it?”

“Sure,” said Ga while winking at ‘Ifafi. They both knew that the only one that could manage the sword was Ga, as it was Ga that had conjured the force of the Sword of Michael into his sword and Ga that also had received the transference of Michael’s angelic warrior consciousness. Lugh could barely lift the sword above his head, and could not master the seemingly erratic energy of the sword at all. The sword actually threw him about from left to right until it finally literally flew out of Lugh’s hand and returned to the firm grasp of Ga, where it belonged for the next twenty-four hours.

Both ‘Ifafi and Ga had a good laugh, and Lugh looked sheepish and embarrassed at first but soon joined in on the laughter. And then while Ga went off to meditate, ‘Ifafi and Lugh practiced their fencing skills – each determined to show off his own sword mastery.

Ga returned shortly, refreshed, and summoned the Sergeant. “Sergeant, you will remain here, have your hazmat suits on if you or your men venture out into the main corridors, and have your breathing apparatus at the ready. This man we seek is capable of anything. I need three of your best men and best shots fully equipped to accompany us to Epsilon Level in ten minutes.

REVIEW BY DR. ISAGANI R. CRUZ, THE PHILIPPINES:

The Tunnel at the End of Time is a masterful symphony of languages, religions, cultures, and literary techniques, all journeying to one inevitable destination: the individual wrestling with self. Covering our most human to our most divine urges and activities, the poetic, science fictional, experimental, even cinematic book leads us through words to what is beyond or behind words: the inscrutable mystery of our own being or, more precisely since the book revels in Emptiness, our non-being. In the process of stripping away the several skins that we use to protect our inner selves and to keep us from exercising our freedom to live a full life, the book also comments on writing itself, turning itself inside out, so to speak, so that we are forced as readers to become the writers themselves, merging our selves with theirs without meaning to and without remembering the meaning that we wanted to find, finding ourselves apparently in the future but actually in the present, or even more precisely, in the past, as time stops for us. In the end, the future humans, aliens, and angels turn out to be really us today, as we find ourselves aliens within ourselves, alienated not from the world as lesser writers would have put it, but from ourselves, as only the truly alive realize, perhaps as only angels really know. For those less inclined towards philosophy, the book offers gripping suspense, continuous action, and provocative scenes; the narrative scaffolding, however, is there only to lead readers to deeper levels of reading. I recommend this book to everyone honest enough to admit that we do not know ourselves or that we are not just nothing, but perhaps even Nothingness itself. Have fun, but be warned!

– Isagani R. Cruz, Professor Emeritus, De La Salle University, Manila

The tunnel at the end of time, an extreme science fiction novel by Adam Donaldson Powell (Norway) and Rick Davis (USA), and with a poetic foreward by Azsacra Zarathustra and Adam Donaldson Powell, can be ordered at Cyberwit.net.

PRESS RELEASE: THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME WAS A CYBERWIT BESTSELLING BOOK!

Order your copy now from: CYBERWIT.NET!

You can also order the book from: AMAZON.COM

Norwegians can also order the book through their local bookstores, or eventually loan “The tunnel at the end of time” at Nasjonalbiblioteket (The National Library of Norway) in Oslo: http://www.nb.no/

WORLD WAR III? … l’union fait la force!

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