Chapter 17 - in which Georgiy Menshikov takes 1,330 years to do nothing whatsoever

1, 330 year later, in g-nome portal readers’ chat room...

ZX81:  Er... guys, anyone know what happened?

Puffball:  No idea. Screen went blank.

Phlegatron:  Me too... I guess that means he did it.

ZX81:  Alright!! Way to go Josh. That was something else.

Phlegatron:  You’re telling me. Never experienced anything like it.

Puffball:  Yeah – like I was right there beside him. Did you feel the vortex?

Bandersnatch:  Hi guys, I’m back. Completely mindblowing. Like being sucked into a blackhole. Did you get the graphics? I couldn’t believe it.

TwinB:  Yo Bandersnatch – them graphics were to die for. How on earth did he do it? I mean I’m just reading text, right, and suddenly it’s like I’m seeing this awesome fractal stuff – completely mesmerising.

Phlegatron:  And feeling it right down in the pit of my stomach. Unbelievable!

ZX81:  Er...guys, I hate to trouble you but there seems to be a problem with the chat room’s time log.

Puffball:  Yeah, I was about to say! What’s with the year 3, 344?

Phlegatron:  Probably just a technical glitch. These things happen. It looks like Josh must have melted some of g-nome portal’s circuitry when he collapsed the Matrix.

7 minutes later – we rejoin the ongoing conversation...

TwinB:  Er... guys. Apparently g-nome portal’s clock measures true time as opposed to local time.

Bandersnatch:  Yeah? What of it?

TwinB:  Well, it looks like we’ve just blanked out for 1,330 years.

Phlegatron:  Oh come on TwinB – you can’t seriously expect us to believe that?

Puffball:  Yeah guys – I just run a scan of current star alignments – I hate to say it but TwinB’s right.

Bandersnatch:  But that’s absurd... we can’t have just blanked out for 1,330 years?!

Puffball:  Banders – I feel you man – it’s absolutely unreasonable but I can’t argue with the star charts. I’ve just gotta accept this.

ZX81:  ‘fraid so guys – we’re gonna have to stare the truth in the face.

At this moment the chatroom erupts in violence. Several of those who had been lurking in the shadows silently following the conversation come stampeding in. It seems to be a case of “kill the messenger” if you don’t like the message. Zargon, Jethro, MihaPi and Talia fight a furious action against ZX81 and Puffball. And who can blame them? Here in the real world we don’t take kindly to being told we’ve lost consciousness for more than a thousand years. Think about it – that’s quite a major insult to your sense of continuity, and to your prized and vaunted conscious-awareness too. I mean, how can I take anything for granted – how can I know anything’s for real if we can collectively be switched on and off like a computer – and who knows – perhaps shifted from one reality to another? That’s bound to make me squirm in my seat, and feel that I’m some kind of lab rat.

Ironically, the abuse heaped on ZX81 and Puffball has the opposite effect. Phlegatron, Bandersnatch and TwinB rally to their defence. More come out of the shadows, CheddarSqueak and Mandrake, Salusa and Vega, to join our heroes – for that is what they are – champions of the seemingly absurd, the outrageous, the preposterous yet simple truth. The same simple truth that takes us out of the chatroom in the year 3,344 to a trolleybus on Moscow’s Garden Ring route B, for at this precise moment in the year 2014 with the entire universe hanging by a thread, a barely noticeable bearded figure of unremarkable appearance, unassuming character and uncertain means is the nexus point where all is to be resolved, one way or the other. Ironically, the fate of the universe could not be further from the mind of Georgiy Menshikov as his trolleybus speeds fitfully between Smolenskaya and Park Kulturi stations, with him lost in contemplation of an astonishingly prosaic nature.

It’s outrageous that the destiny of humanity is at moments like this unceremoniously delegated to the care of such a spectacularly unqualified individual, unless, that is, you are able to look beyond the physical aspect of Georgiy Menshikov and see the sparkling iridescence so carefully concealed within, behind, his mind benumbing normalness. Oh, appearances can indeed be deceptive, for the same Georgiy Menshikov whose chief concerns right now are the potatoes he’s planning to plant this weekend at his dacha, is the unlikely, yet irrefutable key master of the quantum crystal of Arkensor, referred to as the Arkenstone in Tolkien’s Hobbit, and in truth of fact, a transdimensional crystal gateway, the seed stone of a great mother lode, hidden deep within the famed quartz mines of Arkansas, USA. Georgiy Menshikov would have been the first to deny this – being of a highly sceptical nature, far more interested in forest mushrooms and salted cucumbers than sparkly stones. In fact, had he known the truth it would have blown his cover – which was meticulously woven by his transdimensional over-soul to avert all suspicions. Looking at Georgiy Menshikov you could have suspected him of nothing whatsoever, other than being completely, utterly unexceptional. Such is the beauty of 3D reality, in which you as over-soul, are able to design characters in the same way an artist or a writer does, with cunning detachment and not a little humour.

“But why? Why” – you naturally ask, “does this transdimensional crystal belong to such a complete non-entity? Why not a hero or a great spiritual figure? Why not me, for that matter?

Why indeed! Such is the nature of reality. Nothing is quite as it seems, and at the end of the day, when we revert to the isness of be, all of us are mere players in the human drama. In any case, why do you contend that the crystal, whether or not it be “transdimensional”, is any more significant than the man himself? Let us presume that the crystal is not completely powerless and is, somehow, able to choose its rightful owner. Remember that Georgiy Menshikov no more knows that he is the key master of the Arkenstone than you know your higher functions. Furthermore, he never physically has this starlike stone in his possession – is merely quantumly entangled with it – yet this does not alter the fact that it belongs to him, that he is its keeper. It does, however, help explain why his potatoes grow as well as they do, and why he’s so good at finding mushrooms where no one else can.

So, beloved readers – when Josh collapses the Matrix, the Earth and all humanity with it, vanishes into zero point where it recombines with “what Earth is not” – the other side of the equation. You might imagine that this is a violent and destructive moment, as indeed, you might imagine the birth of the universe, the so named “Big Bang” was, but if this were so, if Big Bang had truly been destructive, it would have blown to smithereens the platforms of conscious reality – which evidently didn’t happen, or we’d not be here to discuss it. You might also imagine that the two sides, when they finally meet, simply cancel one another out with nothing whatsoever remaining – and that would be a perfectly logical assumption to make, but in practice, it is consciousness rather than matter that calls the shots, and consciousness lives on in a state of suspended animation, neither here nor there, patiently awaiting the day when it may or may not emerge from its quantum state of indeterminacy. There is, of course, no guarantee that this will ever happen, but there is at least the possibility – all things being equal.

“So you’re saying Josh was able to destroy the entire Earth and all humanity? That’s – er... outrageous.”

I agree, it’s shocking that one person is capable of collapsing the whole of Reality as we know it, and the whole of that Reality is none the wiser – for no thing has happened – as nothing is happening. In fact, nothing can happen as long as the whole of reality is perfectly snug in the Arkenstone of Arkansas, in a quantum state of absolute indeterminacy known by g-nomers as “what indeed”.

“But if nothing can happen – then how come we’re here, back in reality where things happen and things are real?”

Good question... But how would you know for sure whether you are “back here” or merely holographic beings imagining all this from within the Arkenstone? The answer is you don’t, unless you notice certain inconsistencies such as the physical discrepancy between your calendar time and the star formations overhead, or tune into your body clock which does, in fact, keep perfect time regardless of whether we’re aware of it.

“So how then, does Georgiy Menshikov save the day, if indeed he did, and why does it take so long?”

Unlike the rest of humanity, Georgiy makes absolutely no attempt to rationalise what is not happening. He simply continues thinking about the potatoes he’s planning to plant this weekend, then the wild forest mushrooms he’s eager to pick, and the salted cucumbers he’s so fond of. Nothing else really matters to him. The fact that his trolleybus seems to be taking rather a long time to get from Smolenskaya to Park Kulturi on the Garden Ring barely registers, for he knows and trusts that good things come to those who wait patiently, and thus, the mountain gets bored and decides instead to come to Muhammad.

“The mountain? Which mountain is that?”

I was speaking figuratively, excuse me. I meant, of course, the quantum mind which can’t help but notice that there is one point of certainty and predictability, namely Georgiy Menshikov's slow but consistent thought process, in its otherwise wholly indeterminate state known as “what indeed”.

“But what about everyone else – surely they’re thinking too?”

Yes and no. You see, in “what indeed” anyone who asks questions and starts trying to understand what's going on, finds himself in mental quicksand from which there’s no way out. The rational mind keeps looking for something definite, something real, for something that matters, and finding nothing continues searching ad infinitum. It doesn’t know how to let go. Georgiy Menshikov, on the other hand doesn’t...

“Doesn’t what?”

Doesn’t bother, at all. He’s never paid much intention to reality and has no intention of starting now that it’s at its lowest ebb. His potatoes, mushrooms and salted cucumbers are his refuge, his bomb shelter and our salvation, for he avoids trying to understand what cannot be understood.

 “So you’re saying that Georgiy Menshikov spends 1,330 years doing nothing – simply thinking about potatoes, wild forest mushrooms and salted cucumbers?”

Oh no, more than that... Sensing that he has all the time in the world he slows down his thought processes until they match the resonant frequency of the quantum mind, so that his thoughts, trip the switch of indeterminacy and start to materialise around him.

The quantum mind gets involuntarily drawn deeper and deeper into his slow, powerful thinkings, and using Georgiy Menshikov’s thoughts as the seed crystal, it births and grows an entirely new reality around them. Within the mythical Arkenstone of Arkansas, the quantum mind is like a womb in which the seed grows into a child. 1,330 years later, critical mass is attained, the picture is complete, and the decimal point is inserted.

“You’re kidding?! A decimal point? Whatever for.”

Well, the picture is complete – nothing more can be added or subtracted from Georgiy’s powerful slow thought and so the quantum mind is compelled to insert the decimal point in recognition of this.

“And what?”

Georgiy’s masterstroke – he has one more thought – a thought he has kept in reserve all these years, carefully biding his time.

“Well? What of it?”

Oh nothing important really – but the quantum mind has already inserted the decimal point so this additional thought triggers Creation as now we have 1.1 – something more than complete – more than whole, more than 1. Something that confounds the quantum mind’s 0=1, and thus material reality pops once again out of the quantum vacuum of “what indeed”.

“So what was this amazing thought that caused Earth to reappear from nowhere?”

You don’t want to know – you’ll think I’m being trivial.

“No I won’t. I think I have a right to know. This is important.”

Ok, but don’t blame me if you feel disappointed.

“Come on, spill the beans.”

Er...[embarrassed pause] cabbage.

“Cabbage?”

Yes, cabbage. He suddenly remembered after 1,330 years of ultra slow powerful thought that he’d completely forgotten about planting cabbages. He needed seeds.”

“So you’re saying that the Earth was saved by one man’s desire to plant a row of cabbages at his dacha?”

Actually two rows, but yes, that’s more or less right. Such is the nature of “what  indeed”.

“So this is Big Bang, so to speak? The moment of Creation.”

Yes, or what the goblins refer to as the 27^th moment, only there is no bang, there is no explosion, there is no thing in particular to write home about – merely that which Is. At this precise moment the quantum mind, which is wholly outside time and space – inserts Georgiy Menshikov’s additional thought as a replica 1 within 1, and as long as the two switch on and off and exchange places in perfect contra-unison, the isness of 0=1 is not disturbed, and the mother Mind can continue in her state of sublime indeterminacy.

“And that does it?”

Yep, that does it. That’s enough to reset reality as we know it – a single breath, a single heartbeat of the quantum mind. Naturally, no one on Earth notices the lapse of 1,330 years barring a few g-nomers, nor the uncharacteristically flushed expression on Georgiy Menshikov’s face. It’s a solemn moment for him, and without quite knowing why, he announces to no one in particular his new name, Georgiy Bogdanov, which is mysteriously the name he now sees written in his passport – a gift you might assume, from the not wholly indifferent quantum mind.

Eventually, bits of this astonishing story filter through the semi-porous strata of the collective Mind, and four hundred and seventy six years after the event, the whole world gathers in what had been the very spot where Georgiy Menshikov, now publicly remembered as Georgiy Bogdanov, re-emerged trolleybus, Earth and all, from the quantum vacuum.

Yes, the celebrations are great indeed. Yes, humanity rejoices and gives thanks, with trolleybus parties, speeches and re-enactments of the “big sleep” as it’s now called, with festively decorated cabbages, but no, it completely fails to notice the presence of utterly unremarkable Svetlana Ulyanova in its midst, who has within her, energetically speaking, the same connection to the same Arkenstone as Georgiy Bogdanov – and who is thus, to all intents and purposes, the very same person.

Chapter 16 - in which Mandelbrot's beetle collapses the matrix

“You can’t do that – you can’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No, really, stop messing around. This isn’t a joke you know. The lives of billions of people are at stake.”

“I already told you Josh, this is just a matrix – a computer generated hologram.”

“But that’s insanity. It’s real. I can see it. I can see people, houses, trees, buses..”

“Yep – you can see it all, so let’s see what happens when I switch it off.”

“Nooooo! You mustn’t Gill, I’m begging you.”

“I told you Josh – merge into Megan – become beetle – now what do you see.”

“I...”

“Yes?”

“I’m...” struggling for words... gasping... “I’m not ready.”

“To see the truth? Of course you are. Long since ready. Carry on like this and you’re going to cause Megan some haemorrhaging. If that’s the best you can do then it’s back to g-nome portal for you – mission aborted,” and that’s it – we’re flying back to g-nome portal.

Everything was going fine for the first day or two. Gill and I flew through the main sectors we cover – and the flight is awesome beyond words. If you think this is just a beetle flying round a room, you’re in for a big surprise. You see the beetle tunes in to the very fabric of reality and takes you backstage, into the stitching, under the car bonnet, into the boiler room.

The first thing that strikes you as you’re flying around is the complete disconnect between what our 3D vision sees and what the beetle sees. Ok – houses, trees, tables, fruitbowl – it’s all there except it looks kind of psychedelic, but there’s this flipside that our vision normally ignores completely, and the flipside is mathematical – it’s the hologram itself. Once you see that, it completely alters your perspective of the world as you knew it. You see how the table emerges from a zero point, as does the bed, the bookcase and the cuddly toy you so love. Awareness of the zero point makes it impossible to think of matter in the same way again – for all matter projection in our 3D reality has an equal and opposite dejection – a bit like the upside down image that forms on the back of a camera obscura. But if you think the inverted dejection is just an image and the projection is real – think again. As soon as you become aware of zero point, you sense how the two sides balance one another – that the sum total is 0. This means that any “thing” in our reality amounts to nought when taken as a whole – when both sides of the equation are considered. Our trick in normal life, is to ignore the other side, and to assume that this is all there is – that our muchness-of-is exists as a kind of positive materialisation – even though we can’t for the life of us say what our universe materialised from.

By contrast, beetles don’t have this psychological or mental problem. They simply see both sides of the equation – the 3D projection that we know and love, and the shadow on the other side of zero point – which is more than a shadow, for it can at any moment cancel out the whole of material reality – without a sound.

“So why doesn’t it?” You might ask... I did.

Gill plays for time...

“Why doesn’t what?”

“Come on Gill – why doesn’t this anti-matter cancel out everything on our side of the life-matter curve – why does matter seem to be so stable?”

“Oh Josh, surely you can see?”

I scratch my head for a moment, assuming I’m being in some way stupid and missing the obvious, but I can’t make it out – “Nope... I don’t get it.”

“How do you think you’re able to observe all this?” she asks.

“Because I’m inside a beetle called Megan with psychedelic vision.”

“Well yes, but you can see it even without Megan if you take the trouble to tune in – just by meditating. So, try again – how can you see all this?”

“Presumably because the observer is a part of the whole – both sides are one single isness or consciousness.”

“Very good. That’s more or less it. It means that the fact that you’re observing reality creates it and continues it.”

“What? You mean that the minute I stop observing it, reality just disappears.”

“Precisely!”

“But that’s preposterous.”

“Yes. Isn’t it.”

“Well then it can’t possibly be true.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because you yourself admitted it’s preposterous.”

“Listen Josh, the fact that something’s preposterous doesn’t for a moment stop it from being true. All it means is that your mind’s having a hard time accepting what doesn’t fit into its pocket scheme of things. But now that you’re here with Megan you can see for yourself what I’m telling you. You can test the hypothesis.”

“How? By collapsing reality?”

“Yes. Are you ready?”

“I...” and here’s where I had one of those “why didn’t I see this coming” moments. It was like I’d just walked straight into Gill's obvious trap – and hadn’t for some reason seen it coming.

Now, you might well be thinking “Big deal – what’s the problem? Just go ahead and collapse reality. Gill obviously knows what she’s talking about.”

I certainly would, reading this from the comfort of a leather armchair in g-nome portal’s upper reading room, particularly if Chumba Wumba was on temporary leave of absence.

Try to understand, that no matter how logical this all might seem, it’s almost impossible not to have a sense of belonging to this world, to this reality and universe, of being one with it. It goes deep, deep within, right to the very core of being. It’s biological – our very cells feel an affinity to all living matter. They have as much in common with the individual cells of surrounding life forms as they have with us, the trillion cell body, or even more. Besides which, Creation is more than just “matter” or “fact”. Present within it is either God, divinity, or a sacred life force from which we emerged. This world, this reality, this universe is IT, sacrosanct, inviolable. You can’t just go in there and mess around with it – switching it off willy nilly. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

It’s at this point I suddenly realise I’m screaming at Gill and sweating profusely. I have no idea how it happened but something has evidently snapped. I’m close to being a deranged maniac – that’s how bad the thought of collapsing reality is at the visceral, atavistic level of belonging to It.

“Funny the way “It”, the word you’re so attached to, is the same as the acronym for Information Technology, IT,” Gill remarks all innocently. “You’re emotionally attached to a construct that is all thing and no beating heart. As long as you feel loyalty to it, you’ll never get back to the essence, the isness, the divinity that you’re looking for. In any case, on a more mundane level, you’re not going to be able to work as one of us until you get beyond this rather trying psychological barrier.”

“But surely I’m already one of you,” I answer somewhat lamely.

“No g-nome operative can call himself “gnome” with a proper “g” until he’s faced the test of 0=1.”

“If I ask what that is, am I likely to regret it,” I inquire, keen to avoid any further traps.

“Come on Josh, stop playing around. You know exactly what it is. It’s staring you in the face.”

And she’s right. But I hadn’t seen it until Gill put a little steel in her voice and snapped me back to – er – reality, if that’s what it’s called.

0=1... the relationship between the two sides – our 3D projection on the one hand and the dejection, anti-matter, the nameless void on the other – though these terms are misleading, revealing perceptional bias. Ultimately, the other side of the equation, though opposite to matter, is no less real, no less material than this.

“Correct,” says Gill, reading my thoughts. “You’ve already been on the other side and told your dear readers about it.”

“I have?” Funny the way my mind’s always one step behind the curve, or the cart, whatever, behind the plot. Funny.

“Ah yes,” it suddenly dawns, “Goblin.”

Gill’s definitely enjoying this, even though I’m testing her patience to the limit. Probably she’s reliving her own induction to g-nome, and fond memories... who can blame her.

“Makes sense now, does it?”

“Yes...” though this still doesn’t help in practical terms, you see I’d gone to Goblin in my sleep. That’s different. It’s one thing passing through the zero point of space and time in dream mode, no matter how real this seemed, quite another to try to do so when fully awake – in my right mind, so to speak. My heart, it’s beating fast – it knows what lies ahead. Jelly – that’s something else, I’m feeling jelly in my legs, strange as I’m sitting.

“Look Josh, we don’t have all the time in the world. You’ve done this all before, just in a different context. There you were prepared to meet Spirit, and that made it easy for you to leap into the void. You had a deep emotional yearning for Spirit. You trusted it implicitly. You knew that even if you died – your life was as nothing – so you were ready to sail past your fears.”

Yes – I remember it well – though I can’t for the life of me say where it happened. My memory seems to be fragmented – jumping off a clifftop doesn’t fit into the life scheme of a middle aged employee at Boodle & Badwise Nobs, a highly respected bathroom fittings company. “I’ll deal with that later,” I tell myself, “there’s bound to be an explanation, but this... this...” and again I’m staring into the void, and strangely enough I see the form of a beetle.

“Mandelbrot set,” Gill butts in.

“Mandelbrot what?” my mind scrabbling to climb back onto the curve again.

“Oh come on – you’ve seen it already, on the internet. I got Roger to paste it into a webpage you were visiting – just to get you thinking about things.”

“You did?”

“Well, you were a little slow on the uptake, Josh. No disrespect.”

“Slow on the uptake – you mean you guys were waiting for me?”

“Look Josh, we don’t have time to go into all that now. You remember the fractal videos you started watching a year ago. That’s what I’m referring to.”

The penny drops. I’d spent a few days avidly gazing at fractal movies, the Mandelbrot set – no idea why – they seemed to speak to my mind.

“Of course they did. They help the mind to reconnect with the zero point, and by inference, to re-equalise.”

“Ah... So that’s where the beetle comes from.”

“Well yes, or put it the other way round – the beetle form is at the centre of the mathematics of reality – so it’s hardly surprising that Mandelbrot or some other mathematician should have stumbled on it and presented it to the world.”

“And we’ll never know which comes first – the chicken or the egg...”

“The cart or the horse,” Gill quips. “It’s all a case of perspective. As long as you were locked in 3D reality, it was appropriate for you to take sides – to operate under the aegis of I-mind/it matters.”

“You mean the 3D mind?”

“Yes, but I-mind/it matters is not just the 3D mind, but a divide and rule programme that compels you to see things from one side – effectively locking you into space-time and out of time-space. You would see everything in terms of duality – me and them. That worked fine up to a point.”

“Er... which point is that?”

“The zero point, of course, but in order to balance the equation – to re-equalise – you have to...” and Gill falls silent – looking at me searchingly.

“Look, Josh, I get the impression this is all a waste of time. You know all this already – you’re just pretending you don’t because you don’t want to face certain deeply ingrained biases and prejudices. Things that are woven into your deepest psyche – things connected with God and demons and the likes.”

Yes – I’ve no idea how she does it – but once again Gill hits the spot. I shudder involuntarily – that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling – though I couldn’t have articulated it. There’s this deep belief that our side is of God’s creation – and that everything on the other is of the devil – which in a sense is true – if you remember the hate mail I got after visiting Goblin. Our minds are programmed that way – and I’m evidently not immune, though intellectually I claim to be unbiased.

“This can’t be done any other way, Josh. Either you’re ready to bring the two sides together – to re-equalise – rebalancing the whole of creation within yourself – or you’re out.”

“Out? But that’s preposterous!”

“Amazing how often you use that word. You’re out Josh because this is only going to get harder if you don’t do it today, still fresh after entering g-nome, while the iron’s still hot. The last thing we need is a viper in our midst.”

“A viper? What are you saying?”

“With the best will in the world, if you don’t re-equalise you’ll be a danger to yourself and all of us. You’ll turn into what people in past would refer to as a necromancer – a dark sorcerer.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yes you will – because at the very heart of everything you’ll do will be this unresolved duality which always manifests as fear. That fear will drive you to ever greater evil – no matter how good your intentions may be. This is not conjecture – it’s mathematical certainty. Without re-equalising you’ll be compelled to rebalance by working with your shadow on the other side – pulling darkness into this realm of being. We can’t allow that. The great power that g-nome portal gives you requires complete oneness – harmony within yourself and the allness of is.”

“Are you saying Chumba Wumba is balanced and harmonious?”

Gill can’t help but smile for a moment, in spite of her seriousness – “Not exactly, but as trolls go – yes – he’s the picture of harmony. Look, Josh, you can still keep your personality and idiosyncrasies, but at the very core, you need to accept the equals sign – which for us, strange to say, looks rather like a beetle. You need to re-equate, the same way Chumba Wumba and all of us did. Otherwise, you’re a public liability.”

“Wait a moment Gill.” She ignores me. “I... I need to think about this.”

“Absolutely not the case... At this, the 27^th minute of the 27^th hour of the 27^th day, you need to act, or I’ll do it for you, and that’ll send you back to a world where none of this ever happened, nor will ever happen again.”

 Gill makes her move... before her beetle the zero point emerges from the fractal shadows – she’s willing it out – drawing it ever closer by coming into complete oneness and harmony with all that is. She’s about to crash the entire matrix – the whole of reality – returning all life and matter to the quantum state of neither here nor there.

Panic within me rises... we’re back to the start of the chapter:

“You can’t do that – you can’t,” I’m screaming – visions of apocalypse filling my mind.

“Wanna bet?”

But this time... as if I’m experiencing it again, from a minutely different perspective – ah – that’ll be one of Llys’ time loops... this time...

It’s different. I’ve broadened out like an eagle with wings on both sides of the equation 0=1. I flap them powerfully and feel the oneness, the wholeness, the isness of Be. And there’s Goblin on the left side in time-space, and our 3D reality over here on the right in space-time, and g-nome betwixt the two, where never the twain shall meet, and me...

I allow myself, will myself, to merge with Mandelbrot’s beetle, the dark heart at the centre of all, falling, flying, equalising – bringing the two sides of infinity together in the only way this can be done – Consciously with the capital C, as in SEE. And truly, I see.

Chapter 15 – in which Jiminy Fliminy meets Megan.

“Vital missing thread...” Chumba Wumba splutters. “What the... [beep]. This Josh has an ego the size of Wembley Stadium. Besides which, what happened to chapter 14? No respect for literary conventions...”

Now, the observant among you are intrigued no doubt by Chumba’s reference to Wembley Stadium. Why would a troll from Zgobphug use a London landmark as his indicator of massiveness?

Social commentators and historians have pored over this and other cryptic and seemingly inexplicable remarks by the notable C. Wumba, but beyond idle speculation have produced no satisfying explanations. My personal belief is that Chumba...

Sadly, the above commentary by Theophilus I-be-Merry is edited out by an over zealous archivist who has been trained and taught that “personal beliefs” are purely subjective and of little or no merit. He’s right of course, yet one suspects that Theophilus uses the term “personal belief” more as a figure of speech. Surely his enormous intellectual stature precludes anything but the highest levels of objectivity. “What a loss?” you might understandably be thinking, but pause a moment if you would, for here in g-nome portal nothing is ever truly lost or found, created or destroyed. Remember the portal’s trademark logo that cannot be projected in 3D, but has the double helix, the spinning wheel, the torus, the zero point and the star tetrahedron all interweaving, all intervolving.

star tetrahedron

double helix

torus

If you’re willing, suspend I-mind/what-matters protocols for a moment, then you can simply, effortlessly tune in... and here we are – here we are beloved reader – in the knowingness of is – where everything makes perfect sense regardless – where Chumba Wumba merely reflects one aspect of me, Theophilus another, and breath is a rainbow serpent that glides hypnotically through the inside-outness of your life, connecting every data point in a single stream of concious-awareness.

But, forgive me, I digress, and time presses heavily upon g-nome portal’s relay transponder. Its signal fades to zero with every incremental deviation from Story, so swiftly back to Josh who is...

People have been asking me “why beetles?”

Like all your many questions this one illustrates clearly the disingenuousness of the I-mind/what matters 3D mind machine.

I say “mind machine” quite intentionally because that’s what it is. No, I’m not saying you’re a machine – but the I-mind/what-matters is technically, a biological machine, which like any computer has its limitations. One limitation is its inability to accept any knowledge or information that falls outside its protocols. Thus, supposing you have access at an intuitive level to information about beetles, as you do, unless this information is available in a format 3D mind is able to process, it is overlooked, ignored, discarded. Sadly this excludes almost all information that is absolute. I-mind can only process "what matters" so, paradoxically, the 3D mind, although operating within a living biological entity, is unable to understand and perceive life itself – only matter, thing, digits, by comparing one thing with another. It’s like a jpeg image or an MP3 music file – which may look or sound real enough but which are, when examined closely, merely a series of dots or bytes. This version of mind, alas, is simply incapable (not for want of trying) of making the conceptual leap from itness to isness. And thus, with no disrespect, we acknowledge its limitations and move on to the Mind that can.

“Can what?”

Can anything – no matter what.

“And is there really such a Mind? Does it exist?”

Actually, it has to exist – otherwise you simply couldn’t Be.

“Be what?”

Not what... just Be.

Confusing, is it not? And so, "beetle" – let me guide you in through shape and form, and invite you to feel the essence of beetle, feeling it at the deepest, simplest cellular level – right here in your vast spiralling stairway field of DNA, right here at the pulsing, breathing heart of the quantum Mind.

“Eureka! I’ve got it!” The google interactive map lights up as readers across the globe suddenly, inexplicably, magically “get it”. Each one a star in the hitherto dark firmament of knowingness.

Yes – dear readers – truly, this is what makes my job worthwhile – seeing how you’re able to rediscover what has been buried beneath a pile of books, theories, and ever-so-complicated what-not.

Welcome back to knowingness – where beetle is of course, the chosen and preferred vehicle of 3D system development and maintenance. What may appear to be no more than an insect of dubious value, turns out to be, trans-dimensionally speaking, the ideal tool, mechanism, biological form for getting into the nooks and crannies of the 3D reality platform that is now frequently referred to as “the Matrix”.

“But, but, a beetle has no intelligence.”

Neither do you dear reader... or rather, you do. Genetically speaking, however, there’s precious little difference between you and a potato. The problem is in the 3D mind, which necessarily insists on seeing itself as the highest form of intelligence in the so called Universe. Hum... there’s no point fighting this pit bull mind machine – it’s tenacious and won’t let go. Let it be your choice – to suspend for a moment your disbelief and allow me to tell you story, which matters not whether it be true or false. That way the mind can switch off, and you can use your heart-mind instead, to discern whether this story resonates – whether it feels right.

Intelligence you see, is not in the mind of the observer. The brain is small. It has only so much processing power – and yet we have access to limitless knowledge and, at the quantum level, we can utilise the entire processing power of the universe if needs be. It’s rather like a desktop computer – it has a processor and a memory, but the real power of the computer lies beyond – in the internet. Well, the mind has always had access to the cosmic internet which we may as well refer to as Mind with a capital M. If you don’t like that name or find it confusing – call it something else – Consciousness or Cosmic awareness or Jiminy Fliminy.

“Ok – so the beetle’s mind isn’t going to be a limiting factor, but that doesn’t explain why it should be beetle rather than human or cat or microbe.”

True. It’s scalar. Scale or size matters – to a certain extent. You want to use the right size paintbrush, hammer, screwdriver for whatever task you have in hand. You can, technically, get away with using the wrong size – but it’s more convenient to use the one that fits. Well, the beetle just happens to be the right size – the size that gets into the nooks and crannies, the logic gates and code clusters of the 3D platform.

“But how – reality doesn’t have a service interface. I don’t see any of these things.”

No, you don’t because you’re operating at a different scale. You’re able to influence the Matrix in another way – for example, by meditating, you can tune in and get behind the sight screens of reality to start remodelling or reprogramming it.

“The sight screens? What on earth...”

Well, naturally, in your right mind you only see reality as an all encompassing picture – without breaks or cuts in the fabric of space and time. You’re like the TV audience who, unlike the studio audience, don’t see the cameras and lights that are hidden from sight – but you know they’re there. So, access points abound – you don’t need to know where they are – start meditating and you can tune in and alter, shift, redesign reality. You already do it all the time. Even without meditating – positive thinking and affirmations can shift it one way, negative thoughts, fear, worrying – the other.

“Ok, ok, but still that doesn’t answer the question why beetles? Are you saying they can see what we can’t?”

Well obviously! Their eyes are completely different from ours, and when they’re flying around, backwards and forwards seemingly aimlessly, they are performing highly mathematical sequences that can alter the weather in Australia, the movement of continental plates in North America, the stock market in Peru, the traffic signals in Bali... there’s really no limit.

“But why? To what end?”

Well obviously not for the sake of manipulation. Every species has that which they answer for, what they are responsible for, it just so happens that beetles are responsible for 3D’s reality platform – the Matrix.

“Next you’re gonna tell me the group the Beetles had a part to play in this...”

Yes, but they spelt it differently to create a slither of ambiguity, but obviously the Beatles were working extensively with g-nome and a whole team of beetle operatives.

“For what?”

In order to re-activate, re-energise, remodel areas of the Matrix that had grown stagnant – which were outdated, redundant. The Beatles injected new awareness, new ideas, and at a level of sound frequency did exactly what our operatives do when beetling.

“Er...?”

Beetling – don’t worry – it’s a combination of flight, buzz and of course pure mathematics. That’s how the reprogramming is done. It makes perfect sense once you’re operating your own beetle as Josh now is.

“But...”

I’m just getting to that. I asked you to step aside from your dear, faithful 3D mind machine; for a moment to suspend your disbelief. Obviously, up top, in your reality, there’s no way you could climb into a beetle physically, even if you wanted to, but at g-nome portal we’re operating at the sub-cellular and sub-atomic levels – so it’s a completely different ballgame. Every conscious life form has certain switches, tags, connection ports – which enable you to connect up. It’s like linking your mobile phone, or camera to the computer...

“Yes, but these are machines – not living biological entities.”

Correct, but when you get down to the sub-cellular and sub-atomic levels, once you’re ready and able to tune into the quantum stream of consciousness, the neat distinction between biological and non-biological, between conscious and not, breaks down. We find ourselves in a continuum of superstates where all is interconnected, intermingled, entangled and, ultimately ONE.

“So what exactly does Josh do? How does he get into beetle?”

I’m trying to explain, dearest reader... A deep breath please. Ground yourself. Come into a place of peace, acceptance, oneness. Know that you are One with all that is – no matter what, where, when, how or why.

You, the reader, now find yourself floating in this beautiful, calm state of oneness.

“Ah, I see.”

I thought you would.

“It’s... so simple really.”

Yes, isn’t it just.

“So Josh leaps within.”

Precisely. This is the one thing you have problems doing up top in 3D surface reality. You’re good at projecting, moving out and forwards, but pretty hopeless at leaping into the space within.

“And the space within is no less than the other Space that’s outside our bodies?”

Correct. No different whatsoever. So, in reconnecting with g-nome portal, Josh, like Roger, Gill and all our operatives, is able to turn around – to shift the eye’s gaze – to leap backwards, so to speak, into...

“Yes, into what?”

Into whatever it might be. In this case a shiny electric blue beetle that’s waiting there in the Beetle Mews.

“Mews – what an odd name. Isn’t that taking things a bit far?”

Not at all... our beetles are treated with the same love and respect you would treat your best horses. The beetle-gnome relationship is built on mutual respect and trust with no hint of superiority.”

“Hang on... you said gnome? So the rider is a gnome?”

Not exactly – not in the sense of “gnomiki”, but we traditionally call the rider “gnome” as this is something that was set up by the gnomiki, based on their higher functions and skills. To a large extent we are their assistants – performing more mundane manual tasks, maintaining and upgrading the Matrix. There are a few among us who have risen even higher – who have some natural mathematical or artistic ability which enables them to engage in design and modelling – but they’re the exception rather than the rule.”

“So where’s Josh now?”

Where we left him – don’t you see?

Suddenly you, the reader, find yourself sitting in a dingy apartment in Manhattan’s lower East side. Master Wu instructs you to open your eyes, and for a moment you, the reader, think to yourself “how bizarre, my eyes are already open!” but then find yourself opening another set of eyes which seem to reveal a whole new picture – as if a dream, but most certainly real – the sensory awareness is so intense and complete.

“I see...” and you see Josh, standing in the Beetle Mews opposite his charge, making some perfectly co-ordinated movements: arms, legs, eyes, body, breath – you would start asking “how is that possible” were you not able to see his toroidal field – an energy field around his body which is now synchronising with that of the beetle opposite. Every movement he makes is determined by the pulsing toroidal field of energy, which bring the two into perfect conscious alignment, and then, this is where seeing is believing without a shadow of doubt – at the precise moment when Josh and the beetle reach synchronicity, he allows himself to jump once again from the clifftop. It’s already programmed in. Josh elsewhere in space and time leaps into the void and once again his body is seen to dematerialise – this time without even the need for a physical precipice. It all happens at a quantum level as Josh leaps into the zero point, and as our eyes adjust to his sudden disappearance – we already sense his presence in beetle.

“But what does it look like to Josh?”

Why don’t you ask him yourself?

“Can I? Er... Josh, can you hear me...” you continue hesitantly, not sure if you’re talking to yourself or not, “how does it look being inside the beetle?”

Not a sound – but you hear a clear reply – direct thought transmission – amazing...

“It’s completely normal. It’s like being in a car or a plane – where you know all the controls instinctively because you’re in direct communication with the vehicle. My conscious-awareness creates a virtual space – so I appear to be sitting in a kind of ergonomically designed pilot’s cockpit with everything I need at hand – even a coffee machine and fridge. Actually, Megan – that’s her name – tells me I can fuse even deeper, allowing my conscious-awareness to flow into hers – in which case I’ll be able to fly and operate “as if” – effectively becoming beetle myself. Obviously, this is on the premise that I’m in complete conscious harmony with her – which I believe I am.”

Josh doesn’t seem at all phased by communicating with you, the reader, directly. It seems to be natural in g-nome portal to connect with whoever or whatever – as long as you’re holding the same universal frequency 0=1... as long as we’re on the same wavelength.

“See you guys... I’ve got work to do. Gill’s waiting for me...” and Josh flies off as if he’s been doing this all his life.

Chapter 13 moreover - in which I die and bake apple strudel

“Away with the fairies,” I remember thinking to myself as I flip out of 3D, and instantaneously I feel g-nome reconnecting what can only be described as a spiral forest of stairways moving in every direction from the central hub of me out towards infinity – like the distant edge of a giant bubble, twisting and weaving, like the inside of a great seashell, like a field of wheat swaying in the breeze... words fail me.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my...!!!” followed by some more “Oh my, oh my, oh my,” and continuing quite happily, without any sense of repetition “Oh my, oh my, oh my,” for each “oh my” refers to something different – something unique that I’m only now able to feel and experience for the first time – or the first time from the perspective of my erstwhile 3D self. “Oh my...” it feels so good just being here and “oh my-ing” – surfing through the endless Faery realms of colour, light, sound, of earth and tree, of flower, of cloud...  yet an electric blue beetle awaits me – so once I’ve had a good spin through the allness of is, and recharged myself with Faery flight of fancy, I know it’s time to take myself back to the portal gates where Roger awaits and I have something important to do, if only I could remember what.

“Away with the fairies...” I hear my voice, obviously completely out of it.

“Yes, that’s all very well Josh, but it’s rather hard work holding on to you like this, so if you don’t mind I’d like you to flip the switch NOW.”

Roger was obviously finding it tougher than he’d expected – or maybe I was just taking longer than expected to come round.

“Flip the switch?” I’m thinking to myself. What on earth is he referring to. I’m still enjoying these out of body sensations, celestial visions, and what not... the last thing I want to do is crash down to the nuts and bolts mundane reality of relay circuitry, but that, apparently, is what I’m meant to do.

“Too right you are,” says Roger panting. “Master Wu assured me you’d be no trouble – that you’d wake up spontaneously as he’s taught you to.”

“Master Wu,” I’m thinking to myself... “the one who never taught me anything – how bizarre!” but no sooner have I thought this than I have the shock of my life... How can I describe it? Imagine living your whole life believing you’re a hamster, experiencing what a hamster experiences, eating what a hamster eats and drinking what a hamster drinks – even dreaming what a hamster dreams, and all of a sudden you look in the mirror, you see your reflection and to your surprise you find yourself gazing at a cat. No sooner do you see your cat reflection than you recall what a moment before was blank, terra incognito, the cat mind you never knew you had – and the hamster part of your mind starts issuing loud, vehement “but... but... it doesn’t make sense... I don’t understand.”

Oh dear, that doesn’t nail it either. I’m struggling as you can see. Rewind.

“Master Wu,” I’m thinking to myself... “the one who never taught me anything – how bizarre!” but at this precise moment I’m able to cross over to the other awareness, the part of me that is sitting by the lotus lake with Master Wu,  and the two sides are now able to shift into synergy with each other. “But... but... it doesn’t make sense... I don’t understand,” raises his hand, but teacher says “quiet Josh – you’re doing fine – everything’s perfectly comprehensible,” and to your inordinate surprise – teacher is right for once and – contradictions be damned, paradox effortlessly decoded and disambiguated, all is clear as crystal dew.

“Look Josh, I understand what you’re going through, I appreciate it’s not your average Wednesday afternoon in the office set up, but please understand that I only have about 7 seconds left before I have to let your signal crash, so either flip the switch or face the consequences.

Bizarre. I don’t panic – not in the least. It’s as if I’m absolutely confident, even though I don’t appear to have a clue. One part of me is thinking “what on earth’s Roger going on about?” while another is patiently explaining that the g-nome portal uplink requires a manual override of system protocols, which is why I have to go into my genetic control panel which actually appears as a physical room, with flashing displays, a bit of engine oil and a smell – you’d either love it or hate it... and there I am – or rather there’s the part of me that deals with this kind of thing – long ears, whiskers, big soft round eyes, calm, competent – what you might call my elfine system administrator.

“Funny – who am I, where am I?” I start to muse – wondering whether I’m the elf-like system administrator, the normal 3D me, the me that’s with Master Wu or the one that’s standing opposite Roger, watching as he grimaces in pain, before finally giving up and releasing the wires he’s been holding together. Oops. That’s er... bad isn’t it?

“Yes, very bad, says the elfine system administrator – whose name is Llyss – but I rather suspected you’d be slow on the uptake so I’ve routed in a time loop that can switch us back 15 seconds. If you’re quite ready, we can now do what we appear to have failed to do.”

“Oh good job Llyss,” I’m about to say, but something snaps me into higher awareness, whence I cut out all superfluous conversation and act with complete composure. At this precise moment all the levels, all the aspects of me, of my self which is necessarily represented wherever conscious-awareness manifests – all come into synchronicity and act with one accord. Astonishing. Perfect timing. Perfect unity. We act as one and neither space nor time nor the laws of physics, chemistry or biology can stand in our way.

Blip. Fibble. Mugjug. Pondavar-selmek. Jofzehan.

No idea what they mean – but they make absolute perfect sense in the HERE and NOW of all that is I AM.

...And some mind bending music that would normally reduce me to a state of imbecilic dysfunctionality, but makes me hyper co-ordinated and activates my hum-along glands.

I’m aware of seeing from multiple perspectives – and yet there’s the all seeing eye of the observer that simply witnesses how story unfolds in various threads. In the first thread Roger watches me crumple to the ground, inanimate, then a few seconds later my body disintegrates into light – if the words “disintegrate” can be used in this context.

Moving swiftly on – that thread doesn’t seem to offer me the satisfaction of story – for true Story has to lead somewhere – into ever greater happiness.

Thread 2 – sensing that I’m unable to respond in time and flip the switch, I revert back to dream mode, and from dream mode back to Master Wu’s meditation class, where I’m able to process all this and learn from my mistakes, so when we try again next time I’ll be better prepared.

This version is kind of neutral – it neither offends nor pleases me. I’m ready to accept it if nothing else is forthcoming... Just then, however, a straggler arrives huffing and puffing, with a glint in his eye that seems to be saying “boy have I got something for you.”

Thread 3 – at the precise moment that Roger looses the wires and I fall into the abyss of neither here nor thereness, the earth passes through some kind of quantum anomaly which momentarily reverses time. It’s like I’m falling, but the earth is falling faster, so in fact I’m rising, relatively speaking. As this happens my conscious-awareness coalesces into what can only be described in Goblin terminology as the 27^th moment – absolute clarity – and not only do I flip the switch but I also manage to prepare Roger an apple strudel (his favourite dish), write a highly regarded treatise on inter-dimensional coin flipping and, somewhat embarrassingly, cut my toe nails, all at the same – er – moments, if you know what I mean.

Needless to say, the effect is more than pleasing. Roger hasn’t ever experienced apple strudel materialising from what was 3.4 seconds previously a dematerialised body, only to see the apple strudel followed by a hand, arm, me, and the mutant waveforms of the aforementioned music I’d been listening to while getting all this done.

“My God Josh, what on Earth’s that noise – a diesel engine regurgitating yesterday’s lunch by any chance?”

“You like it?” I beam. “I can teach you guys a thing or two about sound and frequency you know.”

“Er...” Roger’s torn between the desire to eat the exquisitely baked apple strudel, with a dusting of cinnamon sprinkled on top, and protect his ears from audio anaphylactic shock – but no need – the sound now disappears back into hyper-dimensionality as the 3^rd storyline closes around me.

“Such a waste...” I smile, “Sigmund Drozhbug’s musical talents could be put to so much better use if shared with the world, but alas, I fear, tis not to be.” To say that Roger looks relieved is to attain the fabled seventh degree of understatement at a stroll.

Roger quickly recovers his usual sanguine, devil may care composure and takes me on my first tour of g-nome portal... Introductions, back slapping, a rather intimidating first encounter with Chumba Wumba the troll, a meeting of minds in elegant discourse with Fidgy Temoral, and much much more... but ours is to Story... to cut to the chase... to surf the wave that leads us onwards ever onwards into now's whatever next, and a beetle awaits.

So, here we are... G-nome portal. I won’t bore you with unnecessary details. There is absolutely no secrecy – you have the same level of access as I do, but as with all inter-dimensional peregrinations – it’s senseless to mix levels.

“Why?” I hear you ask.

Because the five senses that you use in 3D relate to that level only, so anything I tell you about g-nome portal will have to be the kind of description that makes sense in 3D lingo – a complete waste of time. It’s a bit like one of us trying to explain the internet to one of King Canute’s crowd. “Er... it’s like you look into a mirror and you see a moving reflection, and you click on it with a mouse and then...”

Dear reader friend, understand the simple truth – you are here with me now. I’ve simply switched story threads. In this thread I flipped the switch before annihilation. From 3D perspective you’d have seen me leaping off a clifftop, vanishing into thin air... but more of that later. Flipping the switch enables me to reactivate my junk DNA so without going anywhere I find myself in a completely different world. Just think about it – you’re using one or two percent of your DNA, one or two percent of your conscious-awareness and so fail to notice every other story thread, all the other angles of perception that the great eye of I observes. Without these – you appear to be stuck in a three dimensional world in which you need cars and planes to get around, not to mention passports, credit cards and, dare I say it, mobile phones.

Well, the minute you’re ready to join the party and “F-L-I-P  T-H-A-T  S-W-I-T-C-H” as the game show host likes to shout it out, at that point you become master of unbridled perception, navigator of the quantum stream, picker and paster of story thread, but it has to be your decision.

From my perspective, I’m pleased to say, you’re already here. You see, the fact that you’re reading this means that you’re already connected with Story. The only thing lacking right now is your awareness of being here, which is where my electric blue beetle fits in... You see, beetles are the g-nomic equivalent of a noble steed that boldly takes me, errant knight of the ancient order of Gnomus Portalus on my first mission, into the gloom and glumness of 3D “I really mind what matters” reality. A mission that leaps o’er bounds of mind and matter. A mission in search of you – the vital missing thread.

Chapter 13 again - in which I completely lose track of space and time

Rewind... several readers have asked why Roger and Gill are absent when I reconnect to Faery – why they aren’t the first to greet me when I came back online.

The main reason is quarantine. It had to be 100% my decision without any outside influence – and they were the two with the most influence over me – so it was desirable to have them out of the picture. Furthermore, my communications embargo had force of law, so they couldn’t contact me even if they’d wanted to. As far as they were concerned my eventual return was a foregone conclusion, so they were busy plotting the next stages of story with Mr Wu and the gnomiki...

Now, where were we...?

“Master Wu?”

“Yes, come in. Not a word please.”

Ah yes, I remember... so without a word I follow him, or it, into a dimly lit room and we sit down on cushions. “It” I say not out of any disrespect but because Master Wu is elflike and hard to place in human terms.

We start our meditation and after five minutes or so he gets up and shows me to the door. I’m a bit surprised and ask him if anything’s the matter. He replies “no, same time on Thursday” and I go home. It’s only when I get outside and see it’s already dark I realise something has happened. I’ve lost an hour at least – maybe more. I glance at the time on my phone – 8.30 pm – I’ve been in there an hour and a half. Unbelievable. I try to reconnect my missing sense of time but can remember nothing.

Please don’t ask me to explain how I get from Tunbridge Wells in England to Manhattan. Gill tried to do so but to no avail – we have what natural scientists refer to as a missing link. But how on earth my mind fails to notice the reality shift from Kibbles Lane in Tunbridge to Manhattan’s lower East side, I cannot conceive, but fail it does – spectacularly. Suffice it to say there’s no way I could have flown the distance in the time available or with my meagre finances. So, let’s just put it down to g-nome’s teleportation and translocation department – that, and the mind’s natural ability to ignore or completely overlook anything that it simply cannot comprehend.

Thursday comes and again I knock at Master Wu’s door, determined to solve the mystery. I do everything possible to stay mentally alert and avoid losing my time awareness yet discover to my chagrin that again, approximately two hours have passed by unnoticed. This continues for three weeks before Master Wu unexpectedly tells me to open my eyes midway through our session. I’m surprised by this as I’m absolutely sure at that moment my eyes are open – that I’m looking directly at Master Wu, and also because his voice seems to come from behind me to the left – which would have him on the other side of a brick wall – but something quivers, twitches, a flickering spasm, and the next thing I know I’m sitting outside with Master Wu next to a beautiful lake covered with lotus flowers. Double take. I’m looking at Master Wu sitting under the shade of a tree by this lake. It’s warm. We’re wearing loose fitting oriental clothes, I feel very peaceful, strangely confident, warm and tingly inside, while at the same time I’m aware of myself back in Manhattan, sitting rigidly with my eyes open, oblivious to all that’s going on on this side of Mind.

I’m about to call over to myself, to attract my attention, but Master Wu asks me not to – without uttering a sound. I just know he said it, or meant to, and I’m happy to comply. So I leave my Manhattan self alone, and continue enjoying the feelings of well-being that I’m now experiencing as never before – and they seem to be unfolding like a lotus flower – taking me into new areas of conscious-awareness, starting with my little toe, working throughout my body, then connecting with the lake, with a tree nearby, with a cloud, and onwards. I’m able to experience aspects of myself and the world around me by allowing these temporary connections to form and then dissolve, sensing, almost tasting what they have to tell. It’s amazing... wonderful... yawn!

Behold, the inadequacy of words – why we so rarely dwell on the sublime in literature – as language seems to be designed to make it sound flat and dull, and always describes Lucifer’s hedonistic hell so much better than God’s harpy heaven... But the experience itself – I’m completely absorbed. Ah – there’s so much... so much to feel, to learn, to know. The present moment is like a well of unfathomable depth connecting me with myriad levels of consciousness, and I’m drinking thirstily, deprived for so long of this kind of Mindful experience. And will I remember it at all when I wake up in Master Wu’s dingy apartment?

No such luck! Zilch. That part of me is still in the dark, when I shift my awareness back to the regular level, but elsewhere, in parallel, there’s the me that  continues to experience reality from the lotus lake, which is able to watch and observe what’s going on in my normal existence. This is something new. I’m in stereo – and I know without any doubt whatsoever which part of me is more real.

“What’s the point,” I complain to Gill in a moment of lucidity. “I’ve learnt to connect with countless realms with Master Wu, yet am none the wiser in my normal state of consciousness? I haven’t even figured out the minor inconsistency of his apartment being in Manhattan. I could spend the rest of my life accumulating experience that I’m unable to apply, as I have no recollection whatsoever of whatever I’ve learnt.”

“Wait and see,” she replies. “Your body isn’t stupid. It remembers what you don’t” – which sounds suspiciously like I’m being told I’m dumb. Fair enough – I can handle that.

By the time we get the all clear signal from the gnomiki for first flight I feel a sense of... if not exactly optimism – eager, verging on heady, anticipation. I shouldn’t be at all confident. After all the sessions with Mr Wu I’m none the wiser regarding how I’m to reconnect to g-nome. It boggles the mind – somehow every single cell in my body has to become a receiver-transmitter of g-nome portal’s heavily encrypted signal, known as “Cuckoo la la”. If I’m able to tune into it then the genetic material in my cells, instead of being passive junk, suddenly realigns itself into a vast biological computer with g-nome portal as the hub and router. It’s a chrysalis moment of metamorphosis. All being well I’m going to become a different species – homo gnomicus.

Having gazed longingly at the electric blue beetle countless times I almost feel like it’s become a part of me. I’m really looking forward to this first encounter. Gill’s buzzing around the room, a little nervously, as the moon comes up. The sky is clear. It’s a beautiful night. This could have been done in the daytime but it’s felt that I’m more a night owl, so that’s why the gnomiki have gone for night flight. It feels right to me. I’m tingling with chills going up and down my spine, aware of the deep mystery that’s about to enfold me.

“Now just make yourself comfortable as Mr Wu has taught you,” Gill says. I’m thinking to myself, “that’s a joke, he’s taught me nothing,” but no sooner do I settle down than I feel myself coming effortlessly, gently, peacefully, deeply into my tautological self, and absolutely loving the feeling – like nothing could be better, nothing could be finer than simply being within myself – feeling the whole breadth, depth, range and spectrum of my body and my being, and in this state I’m once again connected, once again aware of my being with Master Wu. Time and space are irrelevant.

Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh!!!! I’m away.

Chapter 13 - in which I finally meet Master Wu

I’m having this recurring dream – I’m standing on the edge of a huge precipice with someone – I can’t make out clearly who, which is bizarre as I must know this person really well because it’s my teacher – and I’m ready for the last lesson. Today’s the day when I get to say goodbye to the world as I knew it – to cut my ties by leaping into the void.

To a 3D rational mind that may look like suicide, but appearances can be deceptive. I have no intention of dying – quite the contrary – I’m leaping from the clifftop because it’s one of the most effective ways to say goodbye to the old me, the old world in which things seemed to matter, and to return to the quantum stream – in which there’s no up, no down, no gravity or weight as such – just presence and awareness. As long as I’m fully present in the moment I cannot die. I do not have to learn to fly or try to dematerialise because as soon as I sever my ties with physical reality I revert back to the wave form. I stop being potato or cabbage and become photon - until somewhere down stream my higher-self decides to re-emerge from the isness of the quantum stream, and that’s where my body will appear.

This ain’t anything new – shamans have been practising it since time immemorial, but seeing it as a more than vivid dream is certainly new for me – and indicates that my preparations for g-nome portal reconnection are a) going ok and b) amount to something similar to the old shamanic leap.

“I’ll have the electric blue one,” I tell Gill after flicking through her catalogue of beetles. Er... no idea why – I just feel drawn to it. Gill had told me to use my intuition in selecting my first set of wings. At first I’d assumed she was referring to some kind of plane or copter – then a catalogue of beetles appeared on my I-screen. I was kind of nonplussed – “Why would I want a beetle?” I’m thinking. Well the beetle, she informs me, is a great way of getting into the nitty gritty of3D reality to do some coding – adjusting the matrix, reprogramming the Seem of Is, as we call it.

As for the I-screen – that’s a nifty bit of g-nome technology, which like everything else they use is biological. So, it’s a kind of third eye display. If you have trouble visualising that – it’s like a dream screen – where you can turn your gaze inwards and daydream in high resolution whatever it is you’re being shown. And teachers at school used to tell us off for day-dreaming! If they’d only known...

But before I can get my wings I need to go for “combat training”, as I call it. Actually, there’s not going to be any fighting but I like to make things sound dramatic. Before proceeding I have to warn you, dear readers, that space and time as you know are relative terms. Once you’ve made the conscious decision to reconnect g-nome portal they become considerably more relative. So, if you find to your surprise that I’m now in a completely different country or town for my combat training, or the time of day is different, take a chill pill and repeat seven times “I’ve agreed to suspend my disbelief – it’s only story after all.” Now, in your heart you know that’s not true – that we’re in fact redefining reality much as Galileo or Christopher Columbus did, but that’s ok – tell the mind what it wants to hear and don’t fall behind if you can help it.

“Me?”

Good question. The part of me that would have freaked out – that would have said “What the hell am I doing in Manhattan when I live in Tunbridge Wells and er... how did I get here?” you know – that part of my brain – it’s getting kind of used to the fact that I’ll simply alpha it and put it into a “just accept this coz it’s not gonna make any sense whatsoever” frame of mind. So the mind is learning to let go of its old way of thinking. In fact, half the time I don’t initially notice, it’s only afterwards I start scratching my head and wondering – was I really in Manhattan just now? Well, once you realise that Faery comprises numerous interconnected realities, crossing from one to another becomes second nature. In actual fact, all realities are stacked right next to each other on a kind of shelf – like CDs on a disk changer, so crossing from one to another doesn’t involve a great journey. It’s more like cutting and pasting on your computer – you’re simply inserted into a parallel window. And, because all realities are one – nothing is created or destroyed – you’re just a transposition of yourself, like transposing music from one key to another, or translating from one language to another.

“I can handle that,” I like to affirm. It seems to work.

So I make my selection, and then the gnomiki reconnect me to g-nome.

Yes, I know, you’re not too clear on what g-nome might be. Me neither. Er, it’s like we’ve got this DNA stuff and our scientists thought a lot of it was “junk” serving no useful purpose, and they were right – it could serve no useless purpose in our 3D world of “what matters”, but charges up and electrifies vast areas of our conscious-awareness just as soon as we flip the switch and re-enter Faery’s quantum stream.

...Well that’s the theory anyway. Quite what Faery or the quantum stream may be I have little or no idea. Gill frequently tries to explain but I give up when I feel my eyes turning to marbles. As she herself says – these things just need to be experienced... Ever the practical beetle!

So here we are, preparing to embark on our first field mission into Faery with a brand new set of wings awaiting.

“Timing is the essence,” Gill tells me. This is because there are gateways... doorways from 3D that come and go, as the whole of reality is breathing, pulsating, swaying. There are countless cycles at work – the most important being the lunar cycle, but the sun, the planets, stars, seasons and many more all play a part. Fortunately I’m not the one doing the timing calculations – that’s up to the gnomiki. They’re perfectionists and pinpoint the best moment to flip the switch. In fact, they say that with perfect timing anyone can reconnect to Faery single-handedly – it’s never ceased to be our natural state of being – we have intuitive knowledge of how to do this and a kind of magnetic attraction that can overcome 3D’s gravitational field. But I’m doing it with the best support available, and an electric blue beetle lined up, waiting to take me to infinity.

Gill gives me a list of recommendations which, though not strictly necessary, are known to make the process somewhat easier. Salt baths two or three times a week, a veggie diet that doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement, but I cut down my meat intake as a gesture of compliance, regular exercise and meditation classes twice a week with Master Wu.

Master Wu?

Yes, I know, you couldn’t make it up, could you? but Master Wu really exists in a fashion of sorts. I go to a beaten up alley in downtown Manhattan, climb up a rickety staircase on the outside of the building and enter a corridor that doesn’t appear to be on any floor in particular. There I find apartment number 17 and ring the bell. A moment later the door opens a chink. “Master Wu?”

“Yes, come in. Not a word please.”

Chapter 12b - in which Josh dodges bullets

“Wait a minute Josh... just pause right there if you don’t mind.”

I spin around and see my boss Emily Sticklebee, who evidently slipped in while I was engrossed in typing this, and seems to have been reading it over my shoulder.

“Ah, Emily, yes... the report will be ready on your desk tomorrow at 9 am sharp. Don’t worry about a thing. I’m 100% on top of it.”

“Josh, the report has nothing whatsoever to do with what you’ve just had the nerve to state. As a mathematician, a financial engineer and auditor, I take exception to your absurd assertion that 0=1.”

I’m going to have to wriggle out of this one – Emily, I notice, is taking a keen interest in g-nome portal – she’s been following the blog from the get go and reading all the comments, somewhat maliciously I feel, but she’s basically on-side. Something, gut intuition if you like, tells me she’s gonna flip before too long.

“Flip?”

Ah... Chancery XXL – nice to have you back. No – I’m not using the word “flip” in the “flip her lid” sense – it’s just, in some respects, this diminutive word comes closest to describing the complete 180° shift of perspective that comes with “Faery awakening”. But now is not the time to deal with Emily’s Gestapo-lite questioning techniques, or linguistic analysis... there’s too much at stake. A tingling in the beetle mark... I don’t hear a word from man or beast... my embargo is not broken as such, but I do sense that Roger’s not far from being at hand... and a kind of spark sends Emily off on a completely different train of thought.

“Yes, Josh, the coffee has definitely gone from bad to worse. It’s bad for staff morale – I agree. I’ll see what I can do about it.”

I swear I can almost hear Roger laughing in the background – but again, I state for the record, that there has been no verifiable infraction of my embargo – so I don’t feel violated or threatened. Quite strange really, au contraire – I feel elated. The magic of Faery is uplifting.

So, before I run out of time, Emily’s bound to come back in a moment or two – what I was trying to say is that we have here a sense of “Yes” which is not polarised. Life is affirmative – it’s a kind of game that’s actually fun to play as long as we avoid turning it into something over-serious, over-regulated, heavy handed, lacking in poetry or light... Doing so, as we invariably do, we’re obstructing the very life-force that we host. Cuckoo la la. Perversely, we’re ready to do almost anything to prevent the goose from laying the golden egg – so sure are we that Life is fundamentally flawed in nature, an unruly child in need of stern discipline and mind control. Talk about Garden of Eden redux, or what! Like the God that prefers to banish Adam and Eve from paradise for all time because of a minor misdemeanour, we punish ourselves with guilt and booooredom rather than accepting that the life-force cannot be contained within the square walls of top down regulation.

So what if I broke the law? So what if I ate the apple? Do you really mean to say that it’s going to screw up the whole of creation – that there’s no give in this magical system – that rules take precedence over learning-by-experience or being a free spirit?

“No, I’m never going to forgive you for stealing that apple – I’m seriously displeased. You’re out of here, you two, and you’re gonna reeeeaally suffer from now on – lots of pestilence and nasty stuff. That’ll teach you.”

Way to go God. You show ‘em!

Fast forward to the Jesus story and you have a man taking on the well-intentioned Pharisees – “Er... guys, lighten up, I know I’m not supposed to help sick people because I don’t have a government permit and it’s out of hours, but you know, it’s such fun and something inside, let’s call it my intuition, my conscience, tells me the rules suck, that they represent a lifeless system, a kind of machine code that should not, cannot, er... must not take precedence over human beings, or, being human for that matter.”

Duh!!! Kind of obvious really if you think about it. Don’t forget to insert nice little bible quote about “Sabbath being made for man and not vice versa” – you get my drift?

So, the life force has been repressed right from the very outset, it would seem – from “God” down to every petty official along the way. We probably do the same to ourselves without even realising it “No I mustn’t pay attention to the irrepressible urgings of my soul to kick off my shoes and walk barefoot on the grass, to write a poem about a fallen acorn, to dive naked in the oozy river, to... whatever, whatever...” Please don’t think I’m advocating nudity in any shape or form, or treat this as a recommendation to swim in oozy water – consult your own public health advisor – in no way can I be held liable for these or any other recommendations... blah, blah, blah. “Of course you can sue me, I liberated your soul,” said the prophet and mystic Archibald Fenugreek, “but how are you going to serve me notice if I’m of the essence, and neither here nor there,” he said as he dematerialised in a puff of sweet fragrant air.

Dear haters, detractors and nay-sayers – I understand where you’re coming from. I don’t blame you. I sincerely sympathise, and yet, at the same time, be aware that you’re cutting your nose to spite your face. Any negativity you direct at me, or anyone else for that matter, only works within the closed system of 3D material reality in which “what” really “matters”, whatever that may mean. As soon as we revert to Is – that which simply is – in my particular case this involves un-disconnecting Faery by deleting P-42 – then your “negativity”, “hate”, “anger” and “abuse” merely refer to various instances of self-denial, self-negation and self-immolation, which are as painful as striking yourself with a rock. Ouch! I may seem to be important, worthy of your ire and in need of surgical correction, but truly I assure you, I am of no significance whatsoever when we come back to the ultimate arbiter of what Is – the inter-luminal life-matters curve.

Emily Sticklebee is lingering suspiciously by the photocopier machine – she seems to suspect something, but I’m just about done.

I have to thank you humbly best beloved nay-sayers and detractors – you, more than anything else, have helped me re-evaluate my relation to Faery. It’s like this hatred which is obviously just coming from fear, has brought me back to face my own fear – the fear of either losing my mind, or of having to open it up completely with nowhere to hide my thoughts – for such is the nature of telepathy. It’s also helped me confront my ego pride – the way I needed to believe that I, as a human, am unique – the only rational thinker – the only being that truly matters. Ursula the spider, the one that spoke playfully with me the morning after my day out with Gill, completely blew away my biological sense of superiority. Something snapped. My sense of me was under life-threatening assault and I responded with knee-jerk predictability. In fact, I now realise, Roger and Gill were completely aware that this is how it would play out. Back at g-nome portal they’d even been placing bets on how long it would take me to deal with my personal crisis of pride and prejudice, which is really just a result of the massive sense of vulnerability felt by all of us who have been living in the darkness of P-42. No need to hate or blame ourselves – it’s all just grist for life's mill. We’ve all, in fact, just been playing a part as consummate players do, willing ourself to believe what in our heart we know is not true...

 I make a snap decision. It isn’t rushed. It’s one hundred percent my decision coming from the certainty of moment 27, and Self.

“Ok...” I announce to whoever is out there, “I want in... I was wrong... I’ve changed my mind. Roger, Gill, I’m ready for Faery.”

For a few minutes, then a few hours, then a day – nothing.

“I’ve blown it,” I tell myself. “I’ve rejected the greatest gift I could have had – the gift of Faery. What an ass I am.” I really feel it, and it’s good because it confirms what I already suspected, that I truly have something to lose – that Faery is more than a whim, that it matters to me more than anything else, more than I imagined possible.

This culminates in a moment of panic: “Oh my God! What am I gonna do? How am I going to reconnect?” Then a flash of inspiration comes to me. All those forbidding signs I’d put up in my mind – “no trespassing, stay out, insects not welcome”, I head back to the scene of my mind’s final stand... It’s amazing how clearly I can see them now, the mental images, barbed wire, bold red lettering on large wooden boards. I tear them all down, one by one, make a big bonfire and burn them, then put up new signs saying “Faery open-source zone”, “welcome all friends of Faery”, “insect teleportation hub now active” and a few more that I’m too embarrassed to mention.

It’s good. I’m content. Whatever this might lead to, at this moment in time and space I’m absolutely...

“Absolutely what?” a voice comes in, it’s Ursula.

“Has he done it?” another voice – that’ll be Theophilus I-be-Merry, no idea how I know his name.

“About bloody time,” Chumba Wumba snarls.

“Splendid,” Caratacus Gomwick.

Only Gill and Roger are silent for the moment... and at this precise moment Emily Sticklebee comes back in with a large, healthy dose of reality, but I manage to hit the “send” button just in time.