Memoirs of John the Son of Man 18-21

18

The road was mostly gray gravel with black tar mixed but the wagon wheels wore quickly on the chunks of asphalt that still remained so the ride was rough and she was with child, a boy would be born, a mighty witch of a man. We all watched to see what evil he did first. From a child he liked to stir things up any way he could. All the other kids dreaded him coming around to play. He was rough. He laughed when someone got hurt. He got angry when they ignored him and when one of them was alone he annoyed them in a rough way. But he did no evil.

He hated his mother for being strict with him and often called her names beneath his breath when she called him home for any reason, a chore, a meal or even a treat like watermelon or ice cream. He always wore a scowl and it was rare when anything pleased him and when it did he would be delighted like the rest of the kids then catch himself and bury his reaction in a scowl. It did not take a God or a man of God to see he would be evil that the limb to goodness was not strong enough to hold him and he was always inching out on it a little farther each time.

He gave the impression he liked no one much less loved anyone and when someone did something nice for him he always claimed they were setting him up. He knew no one else was like him but in his thinking he allowed himself to think they all were just like him and anything they did that resembled what he would do by accident or a momentary flaw in the way they took something he saw evidence in his mind they were all exactly like he was only pretending to be good, to love everyone which he belittled and to love being loved which he saw as them seeing they had somehow earned or tricked someone into being nice to him, doing something kind to them or even wanting to just be around them which he saw as a plot on their part to eventually take someone else' part when they needed it most or get one up on them when they were riding at the height of their glory. He did not think like the rest of them.

Me searched for good in him. He was alive and man he had to have some good in him, unless he was Satan reborn in man which did not seem to be the case. He was always just a minor bit asleep, not so anyone of man would notice but when he spoke even when he reasoned it came somewhat from his subconscious which he always opposed and treated like it was his worst enemy.

If his subconscious told him, “She likes me,” his alert thoughts were why does she want to set me and what does she want to set me up for. She's a girl. All they want is to be all nice and even frilly sometimes to draw you in then when you tried to make a friend of them and bared your soul to them they got scared, they found you unacceptable as a friend and if you persisted they would come right out and tell you they wanted nothing to do with you like your world the soul that lived in it was a snake pit best shied away from or avoided at all cost and soon they were all that way.

They called him their favorite. But they shunned him hoping he would change, but he only got worse and angrier for he could not be one of them. His soul world was something they did not like a place to go where they would rather be anywhere else and he was seen as its creator.

Everybody as a world, a place they go not because they like it though most of the time it is an okay place and they like to be there even at times just to be alone. They usually have no fondness for it but go there a lot, more than they would like to. It was like a place they tried to go to but could not when they were punished, a place that was not allowed to change in a way they wanted when chastised. But they were rebuked for ever having it in their world in the first place and had best get rid of what was there or they would get into even more trouble, chastised or punished. In his mind he had the right to put anything in his world he wanted and nobody had the right to tell him he was wrong, what he had in his world was wrong and he wound up always defending it so he hid it and spent more and more of his time there though it made him more and more miserable. It was better by far than trying to be like the goody ones who put their nose in the air immediately or gave him that look that said they would come no closer to him and his world; that world that left him feeling like he had erected a sign in the front yard of his world that read, “Beware, a monster lives here!”

He had trophies on the wall of his room like the time a kid who had just been praised for going good slipped on the road and a chunk of asphalt bit his knee. It was covered with blood that seemed to almost sparkle in the sunlight and the wound was red and puffy with the dark oil all round the open area which to him meant enough contaminates got in to give him infection and nearby was the picture of it black and blue with a scab that cracked open revealing yellow puss trying to escape to the surface.

“I am that pus,” he said, “And I will stay inside and not run out so the knee can recover, but stay inside eating their body up and filling it inside until...” But he did not know what the end result was but he had seen a cat whose picture was there with a big scab it kept scratching open that lost an eye. How he loved to look at that kitten, so sweet and loving but with only one eye, a mark like he hoped to put in the big world they all lived in. Someday he would put the eye out of the big world. He thought about nothing else for days when the idea hit him and when he was lonesome or just lonely and bored he would ponder it, the big wonderful world of all the goodies with only one eye. He could not keep from laughing when some of the scenarios in his mind worked, but they all involved him being a monster but hidden right in the middle of them, hiding in plain sight, a perfect goody outside but his prized monster inside.

He saw some winos. They looked like they were sick like something that belonged in his world if only they had been goodies and not winos and they were rough and they said things that delighted him unlike the goodies and it was all due to alcohol. But he never put their picture up in his world. They were dead and he did not know how they died. He was not old enough to fill in all the blanks that were like dead ends and he did not have a rope to put over the walls and climb over into death like they had. Then he saw what they were drinking when he got close to them, mouthwash! How bad could that be? Washing your mouth was a good thing to do. It tasted horrible but that was a small price to laugh for a while. He seldom laughed anymore but he laughed with the winos who had no more money to buy wine.

“Hey! Hey! Kid! You could get us some wine for us to drink with out dinner. We have all the fixings but no wine to do it up proper like and live for a while. That is all we want is just to be happy after dinner and live it up a little before we go back to this stuff. I gives you the runs. Here! Here's a knife! Don't get so scared! A knife can not hurt any body not without some one uses it wrong or sets out to hurt some one with it.”

It was perfect. It would put a big red scar right on the face of the big world and he would be a monster let loose in the big world. Oh, how he wanted, needed and was by then destined to be that with all the puss he had in him.

“That store down the block. It does not sell candy. It sells good times. But it wants too much for them. So you go down there and tell the man there you want some White Port. Do not say wine or he will know you are a novice. Here drink up. It tastes terrible but it has courage in it, the courage to do anything if you do not drink too much.”

“I do not need no courage. I can not wait to do this. I was born to do this.”

He took the knife. He took it by the handle and never before had he felt so much power. It exploded in him and he was wild trying to control what having a knife like that in his hand did for him.

“Can I help you Son?”

“I want some White Port,” he whispered.

The man put his face almost to his to hand where the knife was just beneath the counter. So he raised it all of a sudden like and split the man's face wide open. There was blood, glorious blood everywhere. But the best part was all the goodies he ever knew gasped to see his monster on stage right before their eyes as he put up the picture of man with his face bleeding, just gushing blood all over before he grabbed a rag and sort of covered it which was as red as the blood on his face had been. He had done it!

But suddenly he wanted to hide again. But his world was all out in the open now and everybody knew him and everybody was afraid of him. It was glorious. But he realized they would punish him and take his monster and put it where it couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

That is when he felt it. It was a thud in the left side of his chest. He put his hand to his chest and tried to make it to the door. But his legs were so wobbly they got tangled and he fell flat on his face. Then his chest hurt. It was so tight in the middle he wished he could pull it apart but it hurt so much! Then it felt like some monster had bit into his heart.

“On a scale of one to ten, one being a scraped knew and ten being sliced apart by a great white shark, how would you rate the pain?”

There was no pain anymore. If there was it was in his body staring at him with wide open eyes, just staring right at him like it had never seen him before in a mirror or anything.

In heaven a moment later he was good, had always been good and the thought of that cat made him want to cry with compassion. A boy said, “Hi, I see you are new here. Want to play Othello? I will show you how. A minute to learn a forever to master. It is easy.” But for some reason it was like having an angel with a bucket of joy pouring it all over him and he was so happy to be loved. Then he put the experience over the mantel of the fireplace as a trophy that showed when he accepted that he was in love with himself, every little or big thing he did he was like his world, a cheery happy place anyone would that could come in enjoy themselves to the max. But as he looked around everybody's world was like that. They were all shining forth like trophies of good things and that was the big world.

He never thought, “If only I had known?”

“Is this me?” he asked God when he saw him a moment later.

“You will remember one day,” I said, “Then you can tell me and God. I made you so that when you remember you will be even more glad than you are now to see what else is in world.”

He did not understand but he knew it was true.

Insurance paid for the clerk at the liquor store a new face he loved even more than his old ugly face.

19

You were there in the covered wagon traveling the cracked highways east looking for a place away from tornadoes which had scared you since you were two and a funnel cloud passed over the tree you thought touched the sky. You got so you could even enjoy running around in a downpour, but subconsciously you were afraid even then and never failed to remember that first funnel cloud. The cities became desolate haunts and ruins and the tiny towns became thriving metropolises in some of the cases. Wherever there was less misery people would go and many stayed in the relatively limited miseries thinking either they could find no place on Planet that was any better and they could stand the miseries there well enough to continue quite a spell longer.

Planet was the name Earth took on after the aliens were met because they always called their planets Planet in their language. Every planet there was was a planet in consciousness so they were all named Planet which always carried with it notions of home though hardly anyone ever on any place called Planet had seen the entire thing and to those who had not died yet Planet was the same anywhere to anyone there.

It was in an odd sort of way where everyone alien or not was from the same place it being so hard to handle any idea of a difference that might not be on the place you called Planet though many did not ever live on a planet. Most people in fact lived in open dark space and they looked like nothing to one who had not died yet.

Actually it was odd as practical insanity but true in every consciousness there was even where most came from said the man of the Biune God what you called the Devil and God both put together though they were both good. You had set out to find a place on Planet that had no misery and you never had to think of the Devil who was responsible for everything from a hangnail to being decapitated. God was the one that was responsible for anything that either had no misery to it or was absolute joy not that you had ever experienced such a thing.

You were headed for someplace new to you but actually a place I had gone to in my thirties called Vermont then where people found the idea of living where there were tornadoes even more fearful than you did. But you never knew any of that had ever existed. You just knew somehow that there was a place where tornadoes were something that never happened at any time and therefore the odds were they would never happen there.

For some reason Devil whom you thought did such things never made one there but the reasons why were as far beyond you as the mysteries of dark space even now were to science.

He loved you dearly in the way one human being loves another but you were unaware it was not really love but strong feelings one robot had for another not the sort of thing the Naturals felt for each other though it was similar primarily in their need to be together as much as possible especially at bedtime when you slept with him and sometimes mated hoping the Devil did not get you pregnant which everyone pretty much accepted was his way of causing humans like you to have a tiny one grow in their wife's stomach.

How you loved the ones others had but come tornado or even a hurricane even, there was no way you would ever want one more even with him. But he had gone far enough. He just could not see taking you the rest of the way from your fear if such a place existed for he just could not see it happening ever again and you had never really seen a tornado actually touch ground so it was to him like going somewhere the moon never shined. But you could not stand the thought of staying somewhere that even the old ones remembered yet of having happened when they were children too.

“Maybe tornadoes only happen to children?”

“No. I swear my entire family was there when that one came over.”

“Even if they do exist how would we know when we got to the place you say you know is there? You do not even know what it looks like or even if east is the right direction to go. We have gone south far enough on these roads. I hope I never see another pothole as long as I live.”

“Potholes. The moon. What does that have to do with finally being safe?”

In your consciousness a tornado could happen anytime there were clouds and the weather was right. But it actually was true that the funnel cloud that passed over your yard was even now there just as real as it was then and it never even did any damage. How you cried when he hugged you with his little arms and begged you to give up this pipe dream of yours. But every time a storm brewed you got scared a tornado was coming and this one had your name written among the casualties. Even though it had never happened in your entire life it happened to you with every dark cloud you studied in great anxiety tortured afraid not to see whether it had a funnel cloud dropping down from the sky or not and you could not live with the torture.

Even when your mind cleared and you made perfect sense it was the first thing you put back in it from your memory. No. You had to leave. Even if it was only in your memory and would never come again which was your only hope the way you saw it from being tormented by the possibility coming from the tomorrow you had no way to know anything about but that it could happened and the longer it took for it to happen the more certain the next time would be your last.

“Be a man! The Devil is everywhere on Planet. There is no place that is safe.”

“Call me human then I guess like the men of God do if you are of a mind to. I want you to come with me? Please?”

“They call me human too!”

“I hate them how they are always helping when all the time they are thinking they are only human and just need to die and all their troubles will go away. I do not want to die. And, all that talk about good and evil, joy and misery. It is beyond me. We just are. We are victims of the Devil. They are blessed by God. It is a hell of a thing to ask me to die.”

“Perhaps you should. You are not on Planet. You are in hell. The only way out of hell I heard one of them do-gooders say is to die.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You die you are dead like everyone we have left behind and will never see again. Dead.”

He looked in my eyes and I knew he saw there was no way to change my mind and I knew it was hard on him being so small and everything. He just did not have the strength to go any farther. I did. And I had to go knowing he was dead to me if it was far and it was unlikely he would stay here and wait for me to come back.

You looked into his eyes and you saw he could not be stopped. If he did not die first he would run into the Devil one day and he would stand in a tornado and tell him to die. But even then he would not. The Devil would have to take him tornado and all to wherever the Devil goes when he leaves.

He was only human. Male he was for sure and stubborn as a cat with twine tied around its neck and you had to lead it away even from a fire. But he was human yet too. But he was female and the wagon ride had worn him out. Staying was his way out of his hell. It was dying to his madness.

He got on the wagon flipped the reins and all fourteen deer started to move as one team and the wagon left. He could not even cry for him. Everything had gone out of him.

“Missy,” a man of God said to him. “Die! It will all be alright. You are dead already. Does it matter that much that God said you have to die to live?”

Then she rolled it over on its back.

“My God, John!”

“She is good now, Marta. She loves him for the first time. She loves being loved by us. She loves herself. But she knows he is insane and has been since he was two years old. You can not really love the insane. There is nothing to him but fear. What a shame. He was a good human husband to her until he drug her out on this journey to the end of his fear. Then I took him to the top of what I knew to be Galusha Hill.”

You made it all that way when you left her just south of where I had been born on earth a God for forevers unthinkable yet. I appeared to you as the robot I made of myself the one I made exactly me so you would not have to deal with an Natural, one that had gone back to the beginning aware of nothing and nothing to be aware of, just aware.

“Are you a robot or a Natural” was first on his mind I cleared with my power the way I AM had taught me.

“Yes.”

“Where are you from?”

“Do you mean originally?”

He did not say anything and I saw it did not matter so long as I said somewhere for he did not really care where.

“Bemidji.”

“Where is that?”

“Where you and your wife split up but years in the past.”

“You are the Devil are you not?”

“You have thought of me as that your entire existence.”

“I will not die!!!”

“Do not be angry. I have done nothing to you.”

“Damn you. You have done me plenty!!”

“Where are you from? Do you know?”

“Planet right here where you are from.”

“No you are not.”

“Liar. Everybody is from Planet.”

“Not you.”

He was silent thinking I was trying to put one over on him.

“You started out as me.”

“Oh!!! No. You do not! I did not. That I would know for certain!”

“I was two years old standing in the yard. My dad called the family to help him cover the tomato plants it had taken him all day to plant when they came home from the lakefront. A voice behind me said, 'Stay right where you are Jacky!'”

“How do you know my name and my story?”

“I am telling you. You started out as me. But you are not me. It did not drive me insane with fear. It came close but not quite. You see a long time ago several forevers ago in fact or more perhaps a tornado hit about two blocks from where I lived. And, Jacky. I was not afraid. I knew I have power. I have always known it since I first started noticing it as a small boy.”

Then I disappeared from him and I stood behind him a Natural God.

“It is time for us to incorporate now. You are a robot of mine. Exactly me the way I would have been, doing what I was writing, being what I am writing. You will never have any fear now.”

“Yes I will.”

“If you do I will make one of you that is good not insane. You will be loving, loving even me and I will love you and because you love being loved you will love it. But one more thing I add to you and your memories. You love yourself now too.”

He looked at me from inside me and he would have always been there. Oh, he is real. I made him. I caused him to suffer. But I take those memories away and give him the memories of a man now a God that is not afraid of anyone or anything with I AM to help me make that true, not even having too much power which I admit that like tornadoes I was afraid of. I am not afraid anymore.

Are you. I am here to help. I may be the devil. A case certainly can be made for it. But I am sane and I am good, loving, loving to be loved and loving myself.

“What do you think God?”

“You are somewhere I should never be.”

“We are in I AM John, the Biune God. But are we in the same place in your consciousness?”

“Not me.”

“And not me either.”

Once you were squared away I took you to be with your wife in heaven. A God, not a God like me or I AM either or the other Gods but both of you Gods. Then I reminded you of coming to her end and the trip you made to Galusha Hill in what was to me once Vermont where there never was even one tornado in my time dead all the time you were on Planet just like her only you were insane to boot. There are no tornadoes in Vermont as you know you who are on earth.

19

He is a junkie. He shoots up more than once a day. He uses a needle. The Day the Needles broke his needle broke. So he tried another. Then an old one he found in the trashcan. It broke too.

She was experiencing pain that was a ten on their scale. They put a needle in her arm but it broke. They tried another. It broke also. She was in excruciating pain and she has stayed that way all the way through this heart attack. Will she survive pain and all?

He lit a refer loaded with heroin. The thing almost blew up in his face it burned up so fast. He is trying again. Same results.

A man having a mangle leg removed is waking up. The anesthesiologist is putting the mask in place. Will he have COPD forever?

She has cut her cocaine and heated it. She is injecting it now. No wait the needle broke.

The entire drug situation is in a panic. Narcotics of all kind administered with a needle are experiencing what they are experiencing. Their needles are breaking. There is no logical reason the needles are breaking but it is happening.

The junkie is cutting himself with a razor in what appears to be a mad attempt to get high grade heroin in his system. He is trying a little. At last some relief but it is going to take quite the gash to get enough to keep him from possibly dying and his withdrawal will start any minute and he knows it.

She begins to relax some there in the cardiac unit. But she is even now right this moment screaming in agony. A nurse gives her one of her birth control pills and tells her it is morphine.

“It is slower this way,” she says, “But it will help the pain in about a minute or so.”

She is swallowing it. Will she get colon cancer from it?

Millions died initially in the state alone. Junkies, first time users, main liners, smokers, sniffers, huffers, patients that have always used narcotics. Months are going by. People are dying. The crisis is worse than anyone could ever expect and there is no explanation. A scientist has a theory that for some reason some needles are building up a momentary sharp rise in gravity causing the needles to break. It is half-baked but it is the only publicized explanation. But pharmaceutical companies and their subsidiaries test the needles when nothing is in them or saline is in them and they work fine but every narcotic tested has resulted in the needle breaking. There is no logical way to address the situation.

A wild eyed religious fanatic's sign reads, “God has had enough. If you will not rely on him. You may die!”

The price of heroin on the street is down to pocket change. Pharmaceutical companies a not receiving any orders. People in all walks of life, all races or mixes, in every nationality anywhere on globe are effected.

But man of Gods are receiving their medication without the needle breaking if they want it but nearly all are refusing it because they are in no pain. The ones that took narcotics are not using them and they are out on the streets telling people that only God can treat them. The rest is a placebo anyway that has caused changes to the brain's chemistry. An incredible amount are dying and many are corpses while many more are alive sharing with everyone that will listen that God is the only way. Those who have read a certain book are dying on their own not wanting to live in world like this many blaming the Son of Man who claims to be the new Devil for it a rumor that began among the man of Gods.

The pharmaceutical companies are selling drugs yet, over the counter stuff but nothing that requires a prescription since the colon cancer outbreaks are so prevalent. The government has declared a state of emergencies but they admit that after all this time they have no way to address the problem. The Stock Market is in shambles. As in the thirties people people are jumping out of high rise apartment and business windows. The economy has collapsed. Gasoline is selling for .9 cents a gallon just enough to mete out gas to whomever they can talk into taking it. It is the end of the world.

He is walking to the city. He has heard they are making bread there anyway and giving it away to anyone that is there waiting for it to come out of the ovens. He has not eaten in ten days and does not know how he continues. He finds a needle lying in a dirty gutter of a well traveled street that is curb to curb with people just wandering around. He wants to die. But he does not know how. So he picks an artery and inserts the needle. It does not break. But even the United States of America has lost control and every pharmacy or source of drugs organized crime is broke or bankrupt and their buildings are empty. He is a medical physician. He knows what it means the needle did not break.

He sees a junkie in terrible straights sitting on three boxes of highest grade heroin. He walks to him holding out his needle and showing him the blood all over his hand. The junkie is reaching out and takes the needle from him, ties off his arm and injects himself with pure heroin. He is dying from the pure heroin but he has a smile on his face. It is over.

“It has just begun,” a man of God tells him with tears in her eyes. The dead ones, those who would die with or without it now have no side effects. How she know he doe not know but everything in him tells him it is the cold hard fact. “The casual users will experience great pain when they first use any drug but those whose addiction has already come to the point where no one can stop them dying experience no side effects. He just overdosed,” she tells him and the word is out.

“Needles do not break anymore!!!”

He is so happy he wakes shouting, “Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” as he swings his right arm in the air just about the height of a slug.

He was dreaming. He was dreaming!!!

He loads the syringe with heroin but with crack. Ties off his circulation with a rubberized hose. Inserts the needle. It did not break. He slowly injects the drugs and feels the surge of power as the drugs fill his body just as a nurse opens the door. And. Closes it.

“It was just a dream!” he shouts at her as he lets the tourniquet loose.

She opens the door and looks at him.

He looks at her without a bit of guilt or shame as if nothing is wrong.

“What were you doing?”

“I had a dream where all the needles broke�"”

“You too!!! Everybody must have had that dream. Everyone is talking about it. They have coined it, the Day the Needles Broke. Nothing happened. I could have told you that. I was awake the entire time. It was dull around here. Everything was as usual so many were sleeping. What does it mean?”

He shrugged and followed her out of the door to his office.

But what really happened was he felt no real high. He just needed more like he had been for some time, always more. He was skin and bones. He knew he had to give up the habit but he just could not do it.

But what was really going on was that he was dead. I had used the Gods' help to make a designer disease now that we had control of every disease Satan had made. It was made of elemental particles, God particles the scientists called them. He had it bad. He felt almost nothing. Soon he would not notice the difference. Then he would die his addiction so bad even the disease made no difference to him.

It would take the scientists forever even in heaven to figure out what I did. Casual users, even first time users to whatever narcotic they used would have excruciating chest pains, even a heart attack, the moment the drug entered the blood stream. But it had a spiritual component with a mind that only attacked drug users of any kind of narcotic. Marijuana was safe. It is beneficial. All others even patients would experience coronary symptoms and the newer they were to the drug the more extreme the symptoms some would actually die of what would be believed to be a massive heart attack. Those who had been addicted for some time but were not dead yet would also be effected bad enough each time they used for it to be the strongest deterrent ever. But the ones that put up with the pain until they would die of the addiction would feel less and less and finally appear to recover from the disease since it no longer made any difference what they did, felt or could think of trying they were too late and would die.

Drug usage dwindled to cessation. Pharmaceutical companies went bankrupt. The government would feed trillions of dollars into almost every science but archaeology looking for answers but none would come. Science had let them down. A chronic source of pain and the real danger of heart failure or even massive heart attacks left those who would not die to die if they used drugs and in some cases horrible pain and symptoms that were very uncomfortable though no one was actually sick but not that many most just stopped using drugs for anything and when they got sick would turn to the men of God to heal them by having them die. The government was in shambles and in an attempt to keep people paying attention to them they even abolished taxation. Insurance companies failed and the idea of money pools took their place. If someone needed something bad enough all the money people paid in would be used to help them. Everybody it seemed turned its back on science and turned to the man of Gods and when they died they no longer got sick except for punishment for doing something almost evil. Virtually everyone on earth was good and loving, loving to be loved and even loving themselves. But money was rare. Gasoline was dirt cheap but it was a pollutant and the effects of pollution took money, a lot of money to fight it. The highways and byways cracked and never got repaired and people began to go back to using animals and even covered wagons to get around in. Everybody it seemed was happy but those who would not die and there were plenty of them to be favorites and shunned and the man of Gods very favorites that tempted us Gods to take them to heaven.

20

She has not caused anyone to die in some time. She sees some humans smoking what she hopes is marijuana by the shed behind the warehouse where they all work. She wants to join them to see if anyone is ready. She walks over near them and greets them. She knows them from work. They say nothing.

She says, “Can I have a hit?” as she might have before she became a man of God.

They pass the joint to her, all of them watching. She takes a drag like she used to, holds it and then draws it deep into her lungs. She does it a few more times when the joint comes to her. No big deal right? She is one of them now. They accept her as a companion.

“I did not know you smoked weed?” a girl says.

“I do not,” she says. “I have not in quite some time. What is going on inside?”

Everyone falls silent.

She steps inside. Nobody seems to mind. They fill a baggie with paint that is very very rare nowadays made by a foreign manufacture accessible only on the Internet and mailed to the one that ordered. She knows them and has thought they were all hard core users of some kind of drug. A great looking guy hands it to her.

“I have never done this before,” she says to him.

He holds the baggie in his left hand and inhales some of the paint and hands it back to her.

Either he is dead or the paint is just paint and they have been ripped off. She loves them. She wants them to love her. But she loves herself and does not want to take the chance there is some kind of a drug in the paint that would hurt her or her body.

She is almost dead. She is depressed and desperate. She never talks to the Gods and when they talk to her she can think of nothing to say. She feels a lot like she used to and I see her dying a little more each day and oh, how my heart years to take her home. But she feels so empty her friends that are man of Gods do not interest her as much especially today and I know that if she dies it will be today.

Then in a moment of rashness she holds the baggie like he did and he smiles. She puts her lips to the small opening and inhales knowing the disease does not effect man of Gods. It feels alien to her body. She thought it would make her cough but it did not.

Instead her chest feels tight right between her left and right rib cage. She cannot help but notice. It is not painful. It is just tight in a place her breath has never caused tightness before. Then she notices a dull pain with a bit of a bite about her left breast. What in the world caused that? It is then that her left shoulder feels the same pain but it is not as focused and all over her shoulder and seems to spread down her left arm toward her left elbow. This is not right. Then it hits. There is a sharp pain below her left breast and the familiar now achy sharpness has moved up her neck and feels like heartburn but it is the worst heartburn she has ever had. The sharp pain beneath her breast explodes with the same pain but it is many times stronger.

She is having a heart attack!!! She knows it.

'John!!! What have I done?' she thinks.

“You are coming home,” John says, “You have the disease.”

'O my God!!' she thinks, 'I did not mean to!!! You mean with a corpse and all!!!”

“Yes,” John says, “There is nothing I can do about it. What you have done is done.”

A girl in the group falls on her body that slides down the wall to a chair but she is dizzy and it is not coming left to right or right to left but from above going down.

She does not cry out but says in her suffering, “Die!” to the girl who begins to cry and passes out.

The girl with the disease is dead and in heaven seeing what she has done but the girl that cried is there too.

“What happens now?” she asks John.

“You have no options,” he says, “You were dead already. Your kidneys, liver and pancreas have been so injured even though you quit. You cannot live long on earth. But�"”

She is happy. She feels a warm glow fill her chest as the first girl looks at her. She loves the feeling and she never felt this way about herself before. Then she is gone as one of the Gods gives her her new memories. She is someone else entirely.

“You are you even now,” the first girl says. She is happy she made a mistake.

“What about me?” she says though she knows.

I am silent.

“My body is dead,” she says as she sees the two of them lying one on the other in the room where everyone is stunned.

“F*****g newbies!!!” the boy shouts and everybody is out of their trance and leaving the building the pot smokers joining them in a panic heading back into the warehouse to their machines. But the two bodies are left behind.

“O my God, my God! They will not be able to cover this up! The authorities will be all over the job site questioning everyone. Look what I have done to them!!!”

She is bawling.

I let her bawl and when it turns to just tears streaming down her face I say, “Do you have any idea what you saved her?”

She knows in graphic detail in a moment's time.

“I could not stop you. You were free to do what you did. It was too beautiful. You are so special to me. We had a little time before she died and she quit when she survived her heart attack. She just hung in a morbidity I do not understand with her old friends some who felt some pain in their chest yet but they were all dead. They will not go to prison. Their animal men are there. Yours will be rushed to the hospital just the heart stopped all at once. Hers will not even be taken but recover after some nitroglycerin. One of the marijuana smokers called 9 1 1. The ambulance is there now. She was so bad!” tears came to my eyes, “She was rerouting kids, even little kids. She saw what happened to you happen many times. There was something about you that broke her, that stopped her and at last she died. You did a lot of good and your friends and family and the ones you caused to die will be there. Would you like to see them?”

She saw them and watched the entire vigil as they gathered to take her home with her grandmother and her father not ready to accept she had died and was in heaven. They had not died yet. But seeing them that way and knowing her body would die soon they began to grieve and then they began to deal with it before it finally just went to sleep. They feel no pain.

I did not have to have her die physically. Drug usage is not right but it is not evil. But I did because she was dying and knew she would never recover. She was done getting them to die. She had tried with them all. There was no one left to die but a natural death. Most of those where she worked were at the gathering, some understanding none of it.

The one who gave her the baggie walked away from the gathering and when he was finally alone he said, “The Devil killed another one,” meaning me. Some cannot get over the idea I am so strong it is not right in heaven where I am even there irresponsible at times.

Normally when the man of Gods do drugs they feel nothing, nothing from the drug and nothing from the disease. I just wanted her home so badly and she was dying and I could not see her die. She did anyway and became someone else but she would remember being a human and a man of God but it would seem like someone else, because it is. Only God could totally wipe out a memory. He just has not done it yet.

My little ones on earth you have not actually died yet. She remembers being her sometimes but it is like remembering the feelings you have for an old friend that has passed or that you have lost track of and it too feels like someone else.

21

Imagine nothing. It is the same as just being aware. I have imagined being aware and nothing else. I tried to imagine not even being aware but found I could not do it. If nothing exists it is not imaginable.

Apply reason to nothing. If all things are finite then nothing must be what is left. If things are not finite there is no nothing which is congruent with our finding on imagination. Also if things are finite then mind is limited. It runs then from being aware but not of nothing, just being aware to being aware of that which is limitless which cannot be by the definition of the terms as well as the fact it is not practical to be aware of that which one cannot be aware of. Therefore mind is unlimited but awareness is not. It has both an upper and lower limit. But that limit is always repeatable so awareness is unlimited if repeated enough times and enough times exist because anything can be repeated in the mind an infinite number of times and an infinite number of times exist because there is nothing to stop being aware of its finite bounds redundantly without end the same thing as infinity but never infinity at any one time. Therefore there must be more than one time for there is infinity that is one more time beyond the last redundancy. The future lay with infinity, the present lay with the future one time at a time.

The present is that amount of time we are aware of for the least amount of time meaning the least part of our awareness. Now the present appears to be continuous but it is not it is a series of minute parts of consciousness one after another giving that illusionsness. Therefore consciousness is not awareness, consciousness being either infinite or like that which is infinite.

It is said that we become aware of being conscious when the fact is we must be conscious to become aware of the present the least part of consciousness. Consciousness is infinite. Awareness is finite. Consciousness is of the future awareness of a present so short one can only be aware of its illusion of moving continuously into the future which is infinite which is the exact size of consciousness illusion or not.

Consciousness like infinity never had a beginning and never had an end and awareness is the least part of consciousness an infinity that either requires something else to create the illusion of seamless time existing in the same part of consciousness its least part being aware. The past is where what yet exists in the present and the past effects both the future and the present for that needed to view an illusion is a mind that is too fast but to register the present as one part of consciousness and to conceive of consciousness as being infinite filled with an unlimited number of parts of the consciousness known as the present that does not move. That is the illusion.

The aware mind is fixed on one point or in some people's case a finite number of points in consciousness, the future will never cease to come to an unending awareness, the present does not change the mind or anything else. It stays fixed where it is. But the past exists in the memory of the illusions, imaginary and reasonable things in one, that past, of the present, the least part of consciousness, the moment we are aware and since what we see is the future that infinite passing before us in an illusion that seems an endless stream of consciousness that is actually the only part of consciousness we are aware of whether it comes from infinite consciousness or infinite memory with the mind a fixed stick in a stream that effects the quality or steadfastness of our mind in the scheme of things.

It is not I that have taken you thus. It is infinity. It is being aware. It is consciousness. It is illusion. And it is the illusion of the past by all but God who is incapable of seeing illusions if he chooses to be and thus perfectly sane.

The rest of us are not perfectly aware of each part of consciousness but only at best a nearly perfect illusion. If we were, there would be more than one God and if more than one God a redundancy of Gods resulting in limitless Gods surrounded by something not God but infinity. But you see that is so. We can be aware of nothing that is not in God no matter how redundant.

But I see it all from another part of consciousness, a future just as infinite, a present, a fixed point in consciousness or being aware and unmoved and with a memory not as pure as God's. I see things God does not see. I hear things God does not hear. I am aware of things God is not aware of until I become aware of them. I am from his future. We are both from the present just two separate least parts of consciousness.

But I can utterly trust his memory and am not so sure about my own. The future we do not make. It makes the present. The present we do not make. It is all in our mind. But the past we make, God perfectly, the rest of us a nearly perfect version at best, resulting for instance in the difference in personality of one we make exactly us something only God can do of himself for none of us have been aware long enough to get it exactly right.

Power depends upon concentration alone? God the consciousness with power is like I am, a consciousness with power. But concentration depends upon the accuracy of the thing being concentrated on, if space a black hole that if it is all concentration can create something so big it is not limitless because of redundancy but only needs be done once and filled infinity or infinity would be fleeing us when it is obviously coming back to us having either stopped and been called toward us or if it were fleeing was stopped and brought in our direction causing all these changes such a thing has created; God bringing all infinity to him while he stays in one spot viewing all that he created when he created the dark space that was the future coming for him until the time of the big bang when he stopped concentrating just long enough to see it all the way. It was change coming to us as had it been originally fed by some explosion, awareness fixed even now, changes being collected by all but God in his mind and memory examples of what power did. While my power is concentration on something new in the present that does not come from the future but from my imagination creating something I concentrate on. Two different powers exactly the same mine less used and newer but both valid. God is a consciousness with power and results. I am also. So is everyone with power. For if I am conscious I have power however insignificant and if I have power it produces results mine from concentrating on what is in my imagination God concentrating on what he is aware of even that which comes about as a result of mine and your power and consciousness.

A genius' power comes from what is reasonable. But reasonableness requires setting up the problem in the mind and leaves them always a step behind the present and coming up with facts that are often only true in reason not in imagination or perception which they discount leaving all their reality only in one minor part of consciousness imperfect reasoning imperfect because their minds would have to be perfect to set it up with perfection a thing that only God could but would not do except to understand a genius Therefore I am not God, not precisely in his reality and not a genius but capable of imagining a part of consciousness that has never existed in God's mind before by concentrating on it; no new power really for nothing changes and yet everything has changed when I do that not discounting the perceptions of others to determine its voracity especially when I imagine a change in the appearance of the physical.