System Seven (17 page)

“I don’t
know
they did, Steve. I just heard the
traffic. I don’t know who else the third person could be. As for why, I can
tell you it involves a top-secret computer file but beyond that none of it
makes sense. Listen Steve, I’m going to dump the Mazda not far from here. I
need your help. No matter what you hear or are told, we did
not
hurt Helen.” He touched the rim of
his hat. “Frank’s, given with blessings for a safe journey. You have my word,
I’m telling you the truth. If they did kill Helen, don’t let it be for nothing.
She
wanted us to get away.”

Long moments of
grilling eye contact resolved Steve’s mind. Trust had always been a currency
between them.

“Then get going. But
if I ever figger you did kill her, I’ll hunt you down myself. Believe that,
Mac. Believe it.”

Mac steered the
thirty-foot Coachman out of the lot onto the frontage road. He’d told Kaiya
about the bulletin and the mention of the Mazda but left it as a ‘double’
murder. He’d just talked about honesty and trust, but if she heard they were
killing old women she might come unglued.

Even so, Kaiya
struggled to keep her cool.

“That means they went
to Helen’s. They’ll know we picked this up.”

He shook his head.
“No, the bulletin didn’t say anything about the RV. Helen wouldn’t tell them
anything if she had her choice. This thing isn’t registered in her name anymore
so they shouldn’t know about it. I spoke with Steve. He won’t talk. Relax a
bit.”

“Riiight. Relax.”
Despite the remark, it looked like she would try to. Wanted to, at least.

In an industrial area
a mile away they uncoupled the Mazda, stowed the tow bar, and left the keys on
its roof. He chose a surface street that he hoped would get them out of the
city and into the foothills without being stopped.

Sometimes the best way to figure out who you are

is to get to that place where you don’t have to be anything
else.
- Source unknown

Austin stared at a
tree-covered ridgeline in the distance. Blue sky capped the high altitude
beauty. To the south, gray-white plumes from the fires fed a hazy skyline. What
should have been a relaxing view was clouded by uncertainty. Reality had become
slippery and levels deeper than he’d imagined.

He sat with Marcel and
Meng under the shade of the table umbrella by the pool. Marcel said he would
share things that would shed light on the big picture and offer a better understanding.

“How well you adapt to
change will influence your overall progress. In my experience, the more you
trust me, the more rapidly it goes. How are you doing with trust?”

“Besides this,” he
flicked the bracelet attached to his ankle, “I’m doing okay.”

Marcel nodded. “In
time.” He stood up and walked over to the lizards. “Before we start, Edward
mentioned you have a story. Something about the wind?”

“Hm. Yes. A story.”

“True story?”

“True as I understand
it.”

Marcel knelt by the
rocks. “It means a lot to you. I’d be honored if you’d share it.”

Again he found it easy
to like the Frenchman. “On one condition. That you explain it when I’m done.”

Marcel agreed. “I’ll
do my best.”

“I was thirteen and
was going to try out for a swim team. Of course I had to wear a speed-o swim
suit but I had a farmer tan from wearing skater shorts. I didn’t want to look
ridiculous so I laid out to get a tan, hoping to bring up the color evenly.
There I was, in the early April sun, chilled by a steady breeze. At some point
I wondered if the wind was slowing the tanning process. So, desperate as I was,
I started imagining the earth in a cartoon sort of way, with big exaggerated
clouds coming in from the ocean and blowing over California. Do you know the
old Schoolhouse Rock cartoons? No?” Meng nodded. “Well it was like a scene from
that. Anyway, I imagined a big hand pressing down on the clouds to stem the
flow. I was so caught up in the cartoon it took a long time before I realized
the winds had actually stopped.”

Marcel stood and
returned to the table, still listening.

“I know what you’re
thinking and it’s the same thing I thought at first: just coincidence. But it
wasn’t just the wind dying. At that moment I felt... extraordinarily calm. I’m
talking unnatural, deep-seated peace, like nothing I’d felt before. I stayed
like that for twenty or thirty seconds until my own amazement got in the way.
The wind had
stopped
.

“Sure enough, just as
my calm diluted, the wind picked up again. I waited a few minutes to see if the
wind would stop again and it didn’t. So I tried the earth-hand thing again and
almost immediately the calm feeling came back. Not ten seconds later the wind
died down to nothing. Remember, it was a blustery April day before all that.”

Marcel nodded.

“I know it sounds
crazy but I did it again and again, probably five or six times that day.”

“Did you mention it to
anyone?”

“I tried describing it
to my mom but she brushed it off. I did it several more times over the years.
Once with a girl from the neighborhood.”

“What did she make of
it?”

“It frightened her, I
think. She’d never imagined anything like it. I was just relieved. I would’ve
been embarrassed if it hadn’t worked.”

Silence grew thick as
the nearby rocks. The two men looked at each other and back at him. With Edward
it seemed the wind story might be really important. The reaction now was much
less than what he’d expected. Feeling uncomfortable, he added, “That’s it. I’d
love an explanation if you have one. I’ve always wondered about it.”

Marcel smiled. “I can
help you understand better but can’t fully explain it, at least not today. Let’s
begin. Edward mentioned you used to play a lot of video games. Countless hours
spent immersed in virtual worlds, living fantastic experiences. That tells me a
high-resolution display system, acting in sync with a sound system, provided
enough stimuli to transport you, a willing participant, away from... your desk.
Away from the real world, for hours on end. Is that right?”

He shrugged. “Sure, in
a way.”

“Would you say your
ability to experience an alternate reality is a skill you possess?”

“If that’s what you
want to call it, yeah. Most people do.”

“All right then, good,
there is that and it is an important skill. Keep it in mind. Now, you have a
basic understanding of physics? Yes, so you understand that matter is comprised
of atoms of varying types. In each atom, there are smaller components still, in
the form of nucleons – you know, protons and neutrons. And nucleons are made up
of even smaller bits. Yes?”

“I’m familiar with
most of that, yeah. Strings. Quantum level stuff.”

“Perfect, yes. Now,
overlay that bit of knowledge onto the world immediately around you.” He
gestured widely. “This. Speaking in terms of video graphics, what kind of
resolution do these bits offer us?”

“Really super high.”

Marcel nodded with a
smile. “So, put simply, we’re in a kind of grid. A very high-resolution,
three-dimensional display system. We
call it
Raon
. That’s an old Celtic
term for ‘field’. Raon is where we experience the physical. It is the hard,
real world. It defines what we are.” He cocked his head slightly. “Well, what
our bodies are anyway.”

Austin looked to the
rocks. A lizard shifted under his gaze, as if uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny. “Alright,” he looked back. “What else is
there? Soul?”

Marcel sipped his
drink. “You’ve left your body so you know right off there’s
something
about you that isn’t anchored
to that bag of bits.”

“To be honest, I’m not
sure I could do it again. Not on command, anyway.”

Meng stood suddenly
and gestured towards the house. Marcel responded. “Okay then, let’s head
inside. A little warm out here, I think.”

He followed them
inside to the family room. Meng closed the patio doors and drew the blinds closed.

“What gives?”

Marcel shook his head.
“Don’t mind for now. Grab a couch.” He headed into the kitchen. “Do you want a
refill? No?”

Marcel was smoothing,
calming himself as much as he was him.

“Are they close?”

Marcel answered from
the kitchen. “Sometimes.”

Meng left his position
by the doors. Whatever had been wrong was now less of an issue.

Marcel returned with a
full glass in hand. “Okay where were we? The soul question, yes? So of course
we have the five famous senses, shaping our earthly experience, programming our
internal TV. What do you suppose the sixth sense is, Austin?”

“A psychic ability?”

Marcel raised an
eyebrow.

“You know, the ability
to read minds, see the future. Psychic stuff.”

Marcel switched
eyebrows and asked, “Really? ‘Psychic stuff’?”

“C’mon, you know what
I mean.”

He smiled. “Close
enough. Your sixth sense is rooted in something you aren’t aware exists. Edward
spoke to you of the language of vibes, yes? Those vibes are real and they originate
as a result of your thoughts, at the quantum level. Yes, they are slight, even
weak, but they don’t have to be strong because of the field in which they
operate.”

“The field? In Raon?”

“Yes, but in Raon’s
fifth element.”

“What?”

“Earth, water, air,
fire. The four classic elements. Our senses are most tuned to them. But there
is a fifth element and your sixth sense is tuned to it.”

“And what is the fifth
element?”

“It is... a little
like air, a little like water, only it is everywhere. You know water carries
sound four times faster than air? Yes, that amplification, it is the same
effect the fifth element has with our vibrations. A tiny disturbance travels
well beyond its origins.”

“So it’s a conductive field. Conducting
electricity.”

“Conductive yes, but
not of electricity.”

“You’re losing
me.”

Marcel nodded his
understanding. “When Edward talked about vibes and frequencies, he used familiar
terms to explain something more exotic. Your brain emits signals, yes,
detectable by EEG devices, but those signals are just the ionic waves generated
by the firing of neurons interacting with the electrons on the metal of
sensors. They are of little consequence beyond measuring neural activity. There
is another kind of signal that the brain emits and its properties are not
measurable with common sensors.”

“Edward’s wifi of the
soul?”

“Yes. And to grasp
what this is, you must understand what you really are."

"And what am I
really?"

"The prefix ‘meta’ comes from a Greek
preposition meaning after, beside, or with. You are, in fact, ‘with’ your body.
You, your
self
, the meta you, is
using your body.” He smiled, noting Austin’s expression.

“So are you talking
about the soul or not?”

“Not the soul you
know. Religion’s concept of soul is old, vague, and misleading – by no means an
accident, believe me. No, meta is very different from
that
soul."

“Meta.”

“Yes, meta. The fire
that flows through all life, igniting the design that it inhabits. Humans,
animals, even plants and microorganisms have it. It flows through your brain and captures your
earthly experience, is imprinted by it. Without it, we would have no identity,
no self, no soul to experience the moment, and no memories. It is what vibrates
with meaning, sending information outward from one’s self into the fifth
element. It can be directed, just as a laser can illuminate only a chosen
target. Or it can be broadcast, like sound from a bullhorn.”

“So you’re saying
thoughts transfer into a shared field?”

“Yes, they do, unless
you contain them. A skill more people need, frankly. The sixth sense allows the
brain to work on information from meta. Combined with the other five senses,
the brain does an incredible job with computation, comparison, conversion of
sounds and imagery to meaning, calculating diverse concepts of all things under
the sun and the result is...”

“Human thought.”

“Precisely. Human
experience, which in reality is compromised more of sixth sense input than
input from your five senses. What you experience most has a lot to do with
non-physical input, from sources and connections you don’t realize exist.”
Marcel paused again, as if measuring his absorption before continuing. He
appeared satisfied. “The body is just the vehicle, the 4x4 of Raon. Meta is
what we
are
, what we are
being
with
. The idea of it is buried by science and western culture,
neither of which will allow for it. Which leads us to your next sense.”

“A seventh sense?”

“Do you really think
we are so simple?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Meta location, for
lack of a better description. It is knowing
where
and on
what
you are focused. The very
tip of that focus is called your
rathad
.
It is the most basic element of who you are, of your meta. Where rathad goes,
so does your experience. In your mind or outside of it. That sounds simple and
it both is and isn’t. You’ll have to decide for yourself later.”

“Meta. My rathad.
Seventh sense. Okay. What’s all this mean? Nutshell.”

“It means you’re a guest in that body. Plugged
in securely, mated seamlessly, synchronized completely. Naturally. You are the
meta to your body, an exquisite and exotic energy form that you recognize only
peripherally and label as your consciousness. Your science-based culture made
sure you would never believe you weren’t the body. Your religion-based culture
made sure you believed your soul was inherently flawed and at great risk of
being stolen by demons or punished by a vengeful god. Culture made sure your
ignorance of meta was cemented. Culture, the purveyor of doubt, the hard ridge
of containment as well as the father of intense and blinding ego. Global
control would be impossible without the manipulation of culture and ego. The
truth is hidden right out in the open, cleverly disguised and made complex and
confusing. As a result, the grid is both the playground and the prison for
humanity.”

He exhaled heavily and
thought for a moment. “Alright. There’s stuff happening in the background that
we’re not taught.”

Marcel nodded. “Oh,
quite a lot of stuff. More than I’ve shared.”

“It’s meta then, the
‘meta me’, that can travel beyond my body. Why don’t I recognize this ‘meta’
self? Why don’t I even know how to think about it? I can’t just pop out of my
body any time I want. It takes special circumstance.”