why should we believe
why should we believe
He would come again
when we reap
not of His harvest
but of our own
why should we believe
we understand His words
when we kill
in His name
over land so holy
why should we believe
we care about Him
when we fight
over steps and tiles
in His house
why should we believe
He came at all
when we reap
not of His harvest
but of our own
Experiments in Writing
I was inspired last night to play around with constrained writing. This all came about because of a strangely interesting book called Sex, Drugs, Einstein, & Elves by Clifford Pickover. It was randomly handed to me by a friend while we were hanging out in the Metaphysical section of the Borders in Hunt Valley. He just liked the trippy cover. I just liked the weird title. Looking back, its one of those moments when I’m almost inclined to believe in Destiny. But I digress.
The first experiment in constrained writing was to use 10 randomly selected words from the aforementioned book. I simply opened to a random page, closed my eyes, and pointed. Then I wrote a little paragraph in my notebook, trying to make as much sense as possible.
Here are the words, in the order I found them:
traveling, consciousness, nebulous, encourage, word, happily, see, societies, nuclear, character
And here is what I wrote at 11:30 last night:
One would do well to encourage the youth to expand their consciousness. Societies, all too often, see fit to push developing minds toward something all together rigid. The character of free thinkers is, in a word, dangerous. Enlightened youth might happily go about traveling the world instead of mindlessly producing and consuming the meaningless goods which serve as the foundation of Capitalism. The might just stop to ponder some nebulous idea borne of boredom and a daydream. Perhaps such open minded children would reject the notion of the nuclear family, bringing to an end the perpetuation of mediocrity known as conservatism.
Next I wished to write a short paragraph where every word contained the letter ”A”:
Alone as usual, Lisa leaned against an ancient oak contemplating supernatural manifestations. Magic had always fascinated Lisa. Although fairly talented among attendees at Harvard Metaphysical Academy, Lisa remained alienated. Lisa’s failure wasn’t about talent. Gary was arrogant. Accidents happened and reputations tarnished.
Not being able to use ”the” is a bit hard.
I have some other ideas for writing projects the I will likely pursue. Feel free to leave your own suggestions in the comments!
The Laughing Man
Were it not for our chance meeting that night I would not be here to tell this tale. He walked past the alley just as one of Gordon’s thugs raised his gun to my head. I saw him just before I shut my eyes in anticipation of death. But I’ll never forget his expression, an unsettling mix between disgust and pity. And a perverse excitement not even the Devil himself would show.
Time stood still as I waited for the bullet to enter by brain. And in that eternity I heard, not the sound of gun fire, but the grotesque snapping of bone and tendon, the sound of meat falling to the pavement. Then, a laugh. I opened my eyes and saw him sitting in front of me, glaring, laughing. Of course, at that moment I had no idea of his intentions. Fear lingered, grew. This man had saved my life. Why? Only to end it himself? To derive sick pleasure from my torture? The insane laughing grew louder. No longer did I hear it with my ears alone, but from the very depths of my soul did it seem to emanate. Surly this was my end!
Then nothing. The absolute silence broke me free from the shock. The alley was devoid of life, aside from myself. My five assailants lay in lifeless heaps around me, their heads and arms twisted in unnatural directions. In all my 30 years, in all the nights I had seen death, this was only the second time I had lost my dinner. Having regained my composure, I fled. Home was not far, but it was far from safe. Gordon would have me hunted.
The Mummy
Adam leaned back on his folding chair and stared at the ceiling of the tent. The sight of the mummy was still fresh in his mind. It had been found deep inside the northern cave seated on a large stone throne. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the room had been smoothed by human hands. The throne sat on a large dias both of which were sculpted from the back wall. Certainly, Adam thought, this was a king.
Both the manner of its preservation and odd features had bothered him for days. Naturally preserved bodies were not unheard of in British Columbia, but this one was deliberate. That fact alone was significant enough to call into question the advancement of technology and culture in ancient North America. It was the body itself, however, that bothered Adam the most.
Roughly four feet tall, it seemed to be a child. The head was larger than that of a normal human and devoid of ears. Its small mouth had been sewn shut. Overly long arms and legs emanated from its otherwise short body. Each hand had only four elongated fingers, including the thumbs. Its feet were wrapped together, but the visible ridges in the cloth indicated a similar length and number of digits. Child or not, Adam thought, this being was clearly deformed. And that did not sit well with him. Who ever heard of a mutant king, he wondered?
Angela ran into the tent, short of breath. She was a woman of unexceptional beauty, attractive but not captivating. Adam was far more attracted to her intelligence and enthusiasm. Seeing her run around the site at the smallest hint of a find was a common occurrence, but the look in her eyes betrayed more than suspicions. “Dr. Smith,” she panted. “We found another one.”
Moo!
Are there questions which have no answers? Can we formulate some sort of idea for which there can never be an understanding? I’m not speaking of nonsense. That is easy. We can ask nonsense questions like, “how long is forever”. And “forever” isn’t an answer. We can say nonsense things like, “that which lies within is without”. And pretending it contains some deep insight into reality doesn’t make it so.
Then again, Zen masters have been asking students nonsense questions for a thousand years. What is the sound of one hand clapping? Nonsense. And when asked questions about the Truth, they yell something like “not even a hair’s width separates them”. More nonsense. And yet monks have been reaching enlightenment for those same thousand years. Is it these seemingly random statements, these maddeningly impossible questions, which are nonsense? Or is it ourselves, full of our own built-up nonsense, who cannot understand the Truth?
When the student asks, “does a dog have the Buddha nature”, the master shouts “Mu”, which is Chinese for nothing. Its not a yes. And its not really a no. We might expect, as the monk surely did, Master Joshu (who is attributed to saying all this) would reply “yes”. After all, Buddhism teaches that all beings can evolve to attain enlightenment, that they posses this Buddha nature. A dog certainly fits into the category of all beings. But the regurgitation of doctrine has never enlightened any monks, much less dogs. Therefore, mu.
So what does Joshu mean? What does he want us to see? Is there some arcane Buddhist knowledge hidden in some ancient, dusty scroll that would unlock the mystery if only we could read it? All this mu nonsense forces the monk (and us) to look at something beyond doctrine, beyond the accumulation of teachings and scriptures. Even if such a wonderful scroll existed, it would have more value to a museum than to our understanding. Better to burn it for heat in the winter. The now warm monk might understand in that very moment (since that sort of thing always seems to happen to monks). So through mu, or really any of the other koans, we are forced to come to an understanding of enlightenment, not as a collection of memorized words and ideas, but as a real experience which lies somewhere just outside of our comprehension. It is something which we must see for ourselves, even though the Master points the way. Its not really nonsense at all then, is it?
I don’t claim to understand it all myself. Mu is just mu. And so I have a question with no answer – how do I find enlightenment? And there’s an idea I can’t understand – the Buddha nature. I’m not so much different from the dog.
Random Poetry
I’m bored. Here are some random poems i just wrote.
Ode to Henry
everybody is a sweet lonely nothing the sugar of my mind is everything nobody knows how to make me happy i'm dead on the inside
Motivation
Walking endlessly across the endless beach I count the endless footprints of my endless journey. How long have I walked? How long will I walk? Not once have I stopped on my way though I endlessly forget what I am doing.
Change
Eyes meet.
"Spare some change?"
Coins weigh pockets.
No one bothers.
"Have a nice day."
Have a nice life.
Not.
Another child dies of starvation.
Who asked you?
No one.
Lisa
Leaning against the lamp post She peddles her wares A long alabaster leg Poking shamelessly naked Through a long fur coat
Dress Code
Kiss
my
Dockers
wearing
butt
The Essence of Oneness
My favorite question is, quite simply, “why”. There is an elegant simplicity to this single word. It has driven the gears of human thought for uncountable generations. And though an equally unquantifiable number of words have been written on this one word, the fascination, the wonder of it, has yet to subside. It is universally asked and universally unanswered.
It may be that I am simply disillusioned with my culture, focusing on the shortcomings while neglecting the strengths. Still, I cannot help but feel that there is some element lacking in the sum of Western thought, some key Truth that has been missed in the plethora of writings from Socrates to Descartes, from Kant to Moore. Perhaps it is not too surprising, then, that I tend to read a lot of Eastern philosophy. More specifically, ancient Eastern Philosophy.
Like Alan Watts.
If you have never heard his lectures or read his books, I certainly recommend them to everyone. “Talking Zen” is one of my favorites. What I find so remarkable about Watts is his ability to expound upon Eastern ideas while appealing to the Western mind. So many of the translated work from India, China and Japan seem, at least to me, so seeded in Eastern culture as to be alien. Frankly, a lot of it is just too hard to read. (That doesn’t stop me from trying, mind you. I just don’t get as much out of it as I would like.)
By now you might be wondering what any of this has to do with the title – “The Essence of Oneness”. Please bare with me for a bit longer and hopefully what I say here will, at least to some degree, answer that question. For now, let’s just assume the answer is, “everything”.
Western culture has a bad habit of classifying every little thing, placing this and that into one idealogical bucket or another. To us, and by “us” I am assuming that my audience is primarily Western, this plurality of existence is Truth. Could it be any other way? Surely I am separate from you, from that cat, from that tree, from that boulder. Our first classification, albeit a rough guideline, is precisely “me” or “not me”. Everything else is secondary.
Of course, we weren’t satisfied by this separation. We had to take it to the next level. So then we say things are “animate” or “inanimate”, “animal” or “plant”, “large” or “small”, and so forth. Its a very useful mechanism we have created. Imagine the plight of our ancestors if they could only say, “Look out! ‘It’ is coming this way!”. I’d be more alarmed if ‘it’ was a bear than a drop of rain. Nor could I just ask, “could you please pass ‘it’” at the dinner table. But somewhere along the way, we became obsessed with this tool. Somehow we began to believe that this arbitrary nomenclature was in fact a law of nature, rather than a mechanism of our own creation.
Undoubtedly you’ve heard a mildly humorous story, at one point in your life, about a student who asks his wise teacher if such-and-such has the Buddha nature. But I case you haven’t, it goes something like this:
One day Sum Yung Gai asked of Master Wong, “Master, does a hairless yak have the Buddha nature?” Without hesitation Master Wong replied, “Ah-hah! My laundry is finished.” And then Yung Gai was enlightened.
A bit of an exaggeration on my part, but the idea is there. When asked such a question by the student, the wise old master’s reply is invariably absurd. It seems to us that the completely non sequitur answers are useless. Still we read about all these students magically becoming enlightened while we sit at home and scratch our heads. What does laundry have to do with a hairless yak?
The Western mind, deeply rooted in the separateness of all things, very quickly rejects the idea that the question and answer are in any way related. We cannot get beyond the “fact” that a hairless yak and a pile of dirty clothes belong to different buckets of classification and therefore cannot adequately describe the Buddha nature. We aren’t hearing what we expect, that is, a set of classificatory buckets into which we might be able to place those things which possess and those which do not possess the Buddha nature. We want a set of rules which, when applied, give us the ability to separate these things. The only problem, at least for us, is that such a set of rules does not exist. Here’s where I think those crazy old Chinese geezers got it right by proclaiming the done-ness of their clothes. Their message is, in less jocular terms, “Its all the same.”
Yes, from hairless beasts of burden to laundry to trees to boulders to stars to air to fire, everything is ultimately the same. I could go on and on about this topic, and certainly for those who have had the immense pleasure, or excruciating displeasure if it be so, of knowing me will have heard me go on at length about such things. But to say that all things are ultimately one is to miss the mark by several millions of light years. There is actually a little bit more to it than that…… but not much.
Separation is a fact of life. I can touch a pencil and I know that this pencil is not a part of me as is the hand which touches. Obviously, if I cut the pencil in half with a knife, I feel nothing, save perhaps a bit of anxiety over destroying a very nice writing implement. Oh the other hand, and please pardon the pun, if I was to lop off my arm with that knife, I be felling quite a bit of pain because of it. If everything was exactly one thing, then I’d feel a great deal of pain from that pencil. That isn’t to say I think there is no connection. Instead, I think the Essence of Oneness, as it were, is a bit of East and West all rolled up into one.
There’s that “O” word again. “One”. Yes, in reality East and West are the same. And the efforts of either side of the philosophical battle to claim victory are ultimately doomed to fail. Now then, if we want to truly get close to the mark of reality, we simply add differentiation into the oneness of things. That is, being different is obviously no different than being the same. It is true that I am not a hairless yak. It is also true that the now infamous yak and I are at the core, one. We intimately share a quality, that yak and I, of existence. We are built of the same one-stuff, the same energy. We only have to look as far as modern physics to show us that everything is energy. But energy doesn’t just stand still and become matter. It moves. It flows. It changes.
It is that flowing of energy through the universe which ties us together. We are all of the same flow. What is me now, this computer now, and you now, will be completely replaced as the energy flows through us. Regardless of static form, the energy moves. In time, I will be composed of your energy, of the computer’s energy, of the energy from my yak.
Before I close, I’d like to address my opening statement briefly. The question was “why”. The answer, quite simply, is “one”.
Beyond Ourselves
My brain was quite active last night as I pondered the reality of Reality. Is an IRC session “real”? Certainly there is an action (typing) which causes a reaction (words). [Granted, this is an over-simplification of the entire process] But I can not be certain if these words are real in any sense other than the fact that I perceive them and thus cognate their reality. But what is the nature of language that we might consider it to be real? But I digress.
More importantly, I was contemplating the fuzzy lines between the physical world and the electronic world. I was playing with a procedural world generator last night called MojoWorld. You can freely download the binaries for Windows, Mac, or Linux. (Not open source, but still a neat toy) And some of the imagery is rather stunning. This is not real-time by any means, but still, the pictures look “real”. One day we will have this level of detail streaming to us in real-time over the net. Perhaps we will wear some special glasses. Maybe the images will be displayed directly upon our retinal matter. Regardless of transport, we will be able to stand in this foreign landscape. And it will seem as real as walking through Madison Square Garden. If by all means of perception we deem this world to be “real” is it any less so simply because it was generated by a machine?
Take one part “Matrix”, two parts “Lain”, stir vigorously. Serve warm.
Now then, leaning towards the Lain end of things I got to thinking more. This time about connection and consciousness. If reality can become that which is generated by a machine, and if we can share this new reality, then in some sense we are connected by electrical impulses sent through countless miles of glass and copper. Now then, given a sufficient amount of connection between entities, what might we expect as a result? I wonder at the emergent properties of a fully connected world. Like the neurons of the brain, independent cells with little individual worth, but properties of consciousness through connection, might not the same order emerge from the connection of humanity? Would we even realize the existence of this new property should it come to be? And if, through global connection, we realize some greater piece of consciousness, could this be God, a higher-order consciousness which exists beyond all of us, yet exists because of all of us?
Particle physics and Eastern mystics are seemingly in agreement about the nature of the universe – everything is one. If this topic is of any interest, I suggest the book “The Tao of Physics” by Frijtof Capra. (You may also wish to consume “The Dancing Wu Li Masters” by Gary Zukav, though I have yet to read it myself.) An interesting aspect of this line of thought is that, ultimately, everything is energy. Not that this is a new idea, mind you. But if we look at in in a certain way we come to notice that matter is not “real” and more than a movie is “real”. Instead matter is simply a state of energy trapped in such a way as to manifest itself in an apparently solid form. In a sense, matter is an emergent property of energy and arises naturally from the mere existence of energy. It is not different from energy.
At the core, we see waves (energy) converge into localizations (matter). In turn, we see matter converge into all manner of things (elements). Elements because molecules. Molecules form compounds. And so forth, until we have the myriad of things we see before our eyes at this very moment.
In this light, it is absurd for us to think that this emergence of things would end with the construction of ourselves. Surely, from a great enough distance our solar system resembles the atom! The galaxy itself is no different. So then, I say that we can assume, even expect, the emergence of something beyond ourselves though our connection.
Let me go out on a limb here and pose this question:
How can humanity realize a Lain-level emergence of higher order cognition if we, the “neurons” of the Gaia Brain, do not connect?
I’ve been obsessed with the Matrix, the Metaverse, or whatever you want to call it, for quite some time. The idea seems to be a part of me. My deep fascination with computer programming has always led me down the path to that goal, regardless of my realization of that fact. But I am constantly frustrated by the limits of connection available to us today. The separation caused by the written word, while at times it draws us and connects us, it is at a different level than, say, an intimate conversation with a friend.
I crave the next level. I want to go beyond the keyboard and monitor and reach into the very reality of the Net itself. I want to be one with the Great Information Flow. Only then can we hope to realize the emergent God quality of humanity – our purpose to become Gaia.
Magic, Part 2
She handed me a small book, bound in dark black leather. The pages were fashioned from a coarse, heavy paper, the edges of which were worn as if thousands of fingers had touched them. I couldn’t see a title or symbol or any other special marking on the cover. Flipping through the book, I noticed that every detailed picture, every ornate word, indeed each page had be inked by hand.
“That book is over two thousand years old. It has been passed on from master to student one hundred and fifty seven times,” she said. “You are the one hundred and fifty eighth owner of the Pahn Shirah – Book of Spells.”
I opened to the middle and looked at the hand written words. The letters were completely foreign. For some reason, I expected the book to be in English, even after hearing its age.
“I can’t read this. I don’t even know what language this is in.”
“Why don’t you try reading it from the beginning, Ron. You aren’t the kind of guy who reads the last page before finishing a book, are you?” She laughed.
“Okay, but I still can’t read this shit.” I looked down at the first page of the Pahn Shirah. There were no words, only pictures of a person in various poses. The images seemed to flow together, the page alive with an animated dance. I watched as the figure moved from one position to the next. Over and over it danced. I cannot remember how long I watched the figure move. When I finally looked away, she was gone. But the dance remained vividly in my mind.
I stood up from the small wooden chair, moved to an open space in the room and began to dance. I moved as I remembered the figure moving. I moved my arms. I moved my legs. The motions were slow like those of a Tai Chi master. Finally, I raised my arm in the final pose. I waited. Nothing.
“What the hell?” I asked the empty room, folding my arms. I figured she would hear me no matter how far away she had been. “That didn’t do anything. What am I supposed to be doing anyway?”
“This is your journey, your dance. Nothing is going to be handed to you on a plate. Don’t expect everything to come in the form of an explosion. Some things take time. I’m here to guide you, not force you down a particular path. You choose where to go. I’ll help you if you fall, but it’s you who must move forward, not I.” Her voice came from the book.
“What kind of teacher lets her student do whatever he wants? How am I supposed to learn from that?”
No reply ever came. With nothing better to do, I turned to the second page. Again a figure danced. Again I watched countless times. Again I moved my own body in the form I had just learned. This time my head was filled with ten thousand voices, each was distinct. The chorus of words seemed to merge until a single unified sound was heard.
I woke up on the floor, dizzy and confused. After a few minutes I regained my senses and stood. The book lay open on the arm of the chair. I picked it up and read the third page. Hahliza tomas batta kyu. Naraddha simo dayradin tor. A figure danced in rhythm with the strange words.
“I told you so.” She was suddenly standing next to me again. I wondered if she had ever really left.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Its magic. The first spell is one of purification. It helps to clear the mind and lets you focus on important stuff. The second is one of understanding. It helps you communicate with those around you. You’ll understand whatever they say or write. Likewise they’ll understand you. These two spells form the base of your studies. They’ll help you learn much faster, so I suggest you do them both every day. I do them when I wake up.” Her smile faded into a frown. “Obviously you can read that ‘shit’ now.”
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry.” The whole I-told-you-so attitude always irked me. “So, what’s this third spell do?”
She just stood there with a “wouldn’t you like to know” look on her face. I rolled my eyes then performed the third dance, singing the words. Every syllable seemed to burn my tongue as I spoke it. My body tingled with every word. As the last utterance left my lips and my arms moved into their final position, the air around me crackled with energy. I felt peaceful, clam, safe.
“Its a spell of protection. It won’t stop bullets or swords, but when danger is near, you’ll know it. And you’ll know where its coming from.”
“How long do these spells last?”
“I’m being nice. My teacher wouldn’t tell me anything. I had to figure it all out on my own.” Laughing, she said, “I bet she’d have a fit if she knew I told you all that already. But that’s really not my style. I did kind of resent her for it, you know. But don’t think I’m just going to tell you everything. I guess one thing I learned was that sometimes we learn better through experience.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled.
“You’re welcome! Always glad to help.”
I suddenly felt tired, or maybe just realized how tired I had been. “What time is it?”
“Time is relative, grass-hopper.”
I stared at her, arms folded, and sneered.
“Four in the morning. You look tired. I know I am so I’m going to bed.” She pointed to a door I hadn’t notice before. “That’ll be your room.” She walked away into her own bedroom, then turned before closing the door. “Don’t stay up all night reading, okay? And please don’t wake me up if you get to number six. I’m really grumpy when someone wakes me up.” She closed her door.
I was so tired I couldn’t imagine reading any more. But her warning intrigued me. I wondered what the sixth spell would do to wake her up. Taking the book with me, I went into my room. The bed was small, but comfortable. The rest of my surroundings didn’t register in my memory. Sleep came quickly.
Magic
Even before entering the club, I could feel the deep base resonating within my own chest. The thick door, the only way in or out, vibrated in rhythm with the music. I stood for a moment holding the handle, feeling the music, the energy, flow through my arm. Entering, I smiled. My entire body now pulsed with every beat of the music. But tonight, I felt more than just the music. The entire building seemed to be alive, pulsating. An intense feeling of peace took me, almost more powerful than the hypnotic thumping of the loudspeakers.
I could see the writhing mass of people dancing, moving like a pit of serpents. As if this congregation of bouncing bodies was a hurricane, a patch of non-motion lied at the center. I moved closer to investigate, as this was a strange thing indeed. From the edge of the dance floor I could see, in the eye of the storm, a woman. She stared at me and smiled. The throbbing mass of people danced around her, never touching, always moving to avoid her as if some invisible barrier surrounded her body. She came to me, the people parting before her. And the closer she came, to more calm I felt. I could almost see the energy flowing from her. Certainly I felt it pushing against me more forcefully than the music. And then, when she stood arm’s length from me, the music stopped. Yet in the silence, the people danced, as oblivious to the quite as they had been to the woman’s presence. I felt like I was being crushed by the weight of her being, but I could not back away, could not move, could not breathe.
She reached out with both arms and clasped my shoulders. The motion of the room slowed. The lights, the people, the smoke, all moved so slowly, almost imperceptibly. She brought one finger to her lips, “Shhhhh.” I couldn’t speak if I had wanted to. Then turning away, she walked toward the door, motioning for me to follow. My legs moved, as if possessed of their own will, toward the door. I stepped from the club through the door and into a field. The sidewalk, street, cars, all replaced with trees and grass. Again able to move of my own volition, I turned around to confirm what I had already assumed, the club was nowhere to be seen. This woman and I stood alone in a field.
The large full moon shone brightly. Stars where abundant. I couldn’t see the light of any city. I could, however, see mountains and hills and trees. I could hear the chirping of nocturnal insects, the howl of an owl. With the shock of the abrupt change slowly wearing off, I returned my attention to the mystery woman. She was far brighter than the moon, seemed to produce a light of her own. I opened my mouth to speak.
“My name is Amara,” she said before I could form the question she had just answered.
“Where…”
“Here. In a field.” She smiled coyly. She paused for a while then continued. “I like it hear, don’t you? Its peaceful, not tainted by the city. Its pure. And its much quieter than that dance floor.”
“How…”
“Magic, of course.”
“I don’t…”
“Of course you don’t believe it. I didn’t at first either.” Again she paused. “All right. Call it technology then if it makes you feel better. But I ask you, what’s the difference? Can you tell me how a TV works? Or how all the little 1’s and 0’s on a CD can make music? That’s technology, right? But to a tribe of jungle people that same technology is magic. Its all perspective. Look, Ron, there will always be something that you don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean you can’t use it. If you want to call that unknown stuff advanced technology, I won’t stop you. But whatever the name, it still works the same.” Another pause. “Any more questions?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You saw me, right? How many other people do you think saw me at that club, huh?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I guess at least the dancers.”
“Bzzz! Wrong. The correct answer is none. Zip. Nobody saw me. Nobody but you, that is. And that’s why I brought you here. You’re special, not like the other mindless drones.” She smiled. “And before you ask, I was waiting for you. Maybe not you specifically, but for someone who might be able to see the truth. Looks like I got you.”
“What, you… you’re looking for a student or something?”
“Bingo. Welcome to Magic 101, Ron Bauer.”
“Wait, what? How did you… Let me guess. Magic.”
“You’re a quick one, Ron.” Amara smiled. “Anyway, there is one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You have to want it. You have to ask for it. I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do, but this is your only chance. If you back out now, we will leave you alone in the realm of the shadows forever.”
“Who’s we? What do you mean ‘realm of the shadows’?”
“We. Mages. I’m not the only one, you know. I will explain everything to you if you choose. No sense telling you anything if you’re just going to go back. You’ll forget all about me and this field.” She paused. “So what’ll it be?”
I couldn’t make sense of everything in such a short amount of time. But the fact was, I stood in a field I’d never seen when I should have been in the street. But if this was technology, what else might she have? There where too many things I wanted to know. I had to keep going. I opened my mouth to speak.
“Good choice,” she interrupted. “Now then, Ron. Close your eyes.”
“What are you going to do.”
“Trust me. If you don’t trust me, this will never work out, okay?”
“Fine,” I sighed as I closed my eyes. And at that instant I felt warm. And somehow, the ground beneath my feet seemed to get harder. The sound of the insects became the sound of a refrigerator motor.
“You can look now. I hope you like it. I cleaned up just for you.”