Wednesday, February 1, 2017
It is morning, again, and again
12 August 1914
It was on the great flood planes of northern Germany, that in the other world had become a hub for comings and goings for a dirigible, some would say a zeppelin, which had a mission in this counter reality. You would also recognize the commander of this, man in life commanded, and in death, as well. He had recovered six of the men that were under his jurisdiction, and he spent a large number of hours during such diseases as he knew, because that which in life is also that in death. He himself had damage as well, a clean puncture wound through is left side, which was still there, though now of course it did not bother him. What did bother him, though he put it out of his mind, was that he was dead, but felt alive. He knew that there was some kind of reality, but of what he did not know, but he knew that he was restored in this counter reality, and a vision of that which corresponded to health. He also realized that there was a mission to be taken, and grasped with the firm knowledge that it was what he had to do. And that was very simple, he would take his crew and bomb Paris, and again, and again. Until in this way there would be marks on le belle epoche resulting from this final, ugly, damage. He knew this, but not by how he did. It was as if he had been born in this counter reality with certain knowledge, that he knew not from where. But they are was a war here as well as in the reality that he thought he would die from. But it was different because the rules were not the same, they were different and it was not Germany and France that were contending, though he did not know what it was that was contending with itself. There was a light side and a dark side, and he crept in to the dark side of existence. And it made him peaceful, relaxed, and filled with a purpose. He had gathered around him such men who also knew that they were in fact, evil. He had found to others, which would know longer speak their name to anyone here. This was an afterlife, but there was more, he did not know how much more, just that he was in service to of force, or an entity, or some other God which demanded vengeance on all the land in this counter reality.
He had bombed Paris the night before, and he and the men were talking about it. It was obvious that there would be more and more individuals, on both sides, who would take up arms. On the way over and on the way back they saw people, with weapons at their side, striking and combating with each other, slowly over the ground, in great sweeps. He knew from this that the German side was addressing quickly, quickly over the ground towards Paris. He did not know whether they would make it, but it seemed likely. He did not know what would become of them, just he had a mission to perform in this counter reality. And he knew that there were Frenchmen who were on his side, as their were Germans who were on the opposite side of him, though it was clear that the French and English side of things were preponderantly on the light side battle, and the Germans were on predominantly on the dark side of battle.
He tore out of his outer lined pocket a cigarette, imported from Turkey, that he smoked constantly, and with gay abandonment, such that his whole face was engaged in sucking the life out of the tobacco laden euphoria. At this point in the twilight, he saw his second-in-command curry up him, also carrying a cigarette in his mouth, so you could see, though dimly, his entire face.
“We have a load more ammunition on the right side, and check off various things that I think would be in order to do so, Sir.”
He nodded at this exchange, and took a another path on his cigarette, which was very small by this point, and snuffed it out.
“Tell the men to double check everything, I know that that will take two or three hours, at least, but I want everything to be in order, once we are a light.”
His second in command nodded at this order and trotted off, with his hand over his hat, because the engines were still shutting down, and there was a breeze. After a while, he ruminated on his position, and what he, and he alone knew his objective was. It was not what his crew know it to be, they knew only minor things where as he knew the objective to be. The objective was to destroy the Eiffel Tower, because in that way, it would collapse in the real world, because then it would have no structure to support it in this counter reality. Why he knew this, it was because in his brain he could see that the death of the counter reality was the key to destroying the Eiffel Tower in the real world. Because that which is real first occurs first in this counter reality and then occurs in what people think of as the real world. But it is not, just as we think things happen in real time but they are not. In the blink of an eye they happen here first, just as things happen in reality with a delay that is not noticeable, but is a fraction of a second later then it should be. This fraction of a second is the real world copying from the counter reality, and he, are rather we, take that counter reality and change it to what we would like you to be, and no force from the real world will change it. This is why there are discrepancies in the counter world which happen first, and then, and only then do they propagate out in to the real world, and that have second is in fact a distant reality that is taking shape, from counter reality to reality. Most of the time they the dead cannot influence reality directly, but indirectly they can do very much.
And his job was clear, his job was to destroy the Eiffel Tower at the exact moment when someone would try to do the same thing in what they think of as the natural state of affairs. He knew this because someone was reaching in to his mind, and he could feel his knowledge changing as it did so. He felt the change abruptly and suddenly, as if to tell him that this knowledge was pure, or rather diabolical in nature, and it came from the darkest regions that he could only imagine. Why he and not the others he did not know, but he could guess. There was a need to know which did not extend to his crew, just as he did not understand what the reason for destroying the Eiffel Tower was, he was not in the loop for that information. But this did not bother him out all, he just carried out his orders as best that he could, and leave the rest to others higher up then he was. What was interesting to him, was there were more people at the bottom then at the top, and none at all from the very top, who said and studied plans that they thought were the expression of national will. It occurred to him at this instant, that national will and force were not things that were instrumentalities of individual persons, so in a way, mankind knows that even he is beyond the reach of normal plans.
Just carrying out orders. The soul purpose of his death.
At this point he moved inside, and began just his coordinates, he would be planning for a long time, because he needed to know when people in the real world are doing exactly the same thing as the ones doing in this in the counter reality. It bothered him, of course, that he did not know who was controlling the little marionette men who controlled the, but at least he knew that there was someone who was controlling them, which after all was more than he knew before, which were only witchcraft, magic, and some very trivial parapsychology, in this only because his was an aficionado of that sort of thing. So it actually was a benefit to know, truly know, the inner workings of the mind of the creator, which he was sure he could discover. The two hands, dark and light, were, he felt, part of the same entity, evil was just the other hand of good, and he had chosen the darkness because of his own reasons, even while he was living. It dawned on him that he knew something, though he did not know what, while on the other side. Of course, there could be more nuance to his knowledge.
Someone apropos this would be some purpose to the mind which communicated to him.
Someone apropos this would be some purpose to the mind which communicated to him.
He got out another cigarette, and lit it very tightly, beyond his view was the machinery that controlled this zeppelin, and beyond. Over the hills, and over the dales, he knew the their was something about which was innately bond to the controls on this side of reality, but he did not know what it was, but it was crafty and almost sublime in its aspect. It was not is straightforward way of thinking that control in the real world correspondent to a control under his own hand, no was it a straight translation from either through world or this world controlling what it did. It was far too innate for that to be the case, was if it was controlled not from within but from some source that he could not see, but he could feel it.
Then up out of the darkness a face formed, it was the face of his right hand man. He knew the men intimately, more than intimately in fact, he was the first officer, and he knew everything about him down to the last detail. The very last detail, and in hurt.