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479) Draft: Short Story: The Red Planet and the Twin Moons September 5, 2015

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Typed and posted, 11:45, Idal (Justice), 9th (Asma’ (Names)), Rahmat (Mercy) 165 BE
11:45, Wednesday 2nd July 2008 CE
Written, 11:00 Tuesday 1st July 2008 CE

It was 2922 AD, 1078 BE, and on the slopes of Planitia Mons, an extinct volcano, the small village of Burrswell, nestled under the heights of the volcano to the north east. Burrswell was named after the classic Terrahawks producer, Christopher Burr, who collaborated with the SuperMarionation master, Gerry Anderson on that series, in the 20th century CE, 2nd century BE. Burrswell was a dormitory village for a nearby mining planet, extracting Turbinium, and in this village, lived a 13 year old boy, James WordPress, who lived with his widowed mother, Rachel. One day, James was not on Planitia Mons, but visiting his maternal grandfather, a very elderly Joe Hudson, famous author. Joe told him a secret, that the famed and long-awaited Manifestation of God from Baha’u’llah, had appeared on Mars and was the first independent Manifestation since Baha’u’llah Himself, (1817-1892) (-27-48 BE) the Supreme Manifestation of God for the next approximately 498,930 years for the civilization based on Earth. Baha’u’llah’s earthly life had been spent in the Middle East and had been at the beginning of the Baha’i Era of mankind’s Cycle of Fulfillment. James learned from Grandpa Joe, that he had met a stunning black lady in her 20s, during one of his infrequent visits to his agent on Phobos, six months previously. She was based on Deimos, and been dressed in a thin, long orange dress, her long jet black hair straigtened, her dark brown skin a shade paler than her hair. She had not yet gone public about her claim, but had found that Joe, having studied the Writings, had suspected that from allusory and cryptic language in the Writings, the qualities and characteristics of the new Manifestation. After he had told her of his findings, she had confided in him, that she is fact fulfilled all the conditions that he had perceived in the Writings, and that she was indeed the One his heart, soul and mind sought. Her given name was Tyler Morgan, descended from a Baha’i family in the time of Shoghi Effendi, himself, the relatives of Enoch Olinga in Uganda, Agrica, who’d been appointed a Hand of the Cause of God, by Shoghi Effendi in 1955 CE, 111BE. Her family had emigrated, and in fact pioneered, to Mars hundreds of years before. With such a noble lineage, Joe had found her well schooled in The Faith, as well being descended from those heroic Baha’is who’d been at the start of the epic enterprise of building The Kingdom of God not only on Earth, but the Solar System and on, to the Stars. Joe had searched the Writings for clues about the coming Manifestation had found many such allusory and cryptic references, couched in language, that could be discounted with plausible deniability. When Tyler told Joe she fitted all his criteria, he had been at once, shocked, excited, sceptical, and also instantly devoted to his new friend. She satisfied all his conditions for being the next Manifestation of God, inspired by Baha’u’llah, for the Solar System. She was a woman, she was black and she was on Mars, the Crimson Ark of Mars, not a reference to the Arc with a C on Mount Carmel, the centre of His Kingdom, but Ark with a K, an Ark of salvation as was the Arc, a lifeboat, a stepping stonbe for mankingd from Earth to the Stars. Mars was, is and always will be thye gateway from Earth outwards across the final frontier. Mars was also excellently placed as a haven from the past limitations and problems of Earth. Joe had perceived these veiled allusions in the Writings and had so far as he could discern, been joined in his musings only by Tyler herself, Who seemed endowed with innate knowledge far beyond the overt AND veiled meaning of The Writings. She seemed in touch with Baha’u’llah Himself, and au fait with His knowledge, not deposited in His Writings on Earth before His Ascension in 1892. Now James as well knew the Truth of the next Manifestation and as Joe shared his secret with Joe, both their hearts felt full with that awesome humility at discovering for the first time, news of a new Revelation from the Creator of the Universe. On Deimos the next Manifestation lived, preparing for the Day when she would unveil her beauteous Countenance in the midmost heart of creation. Joe and James were the first. Soon millions would know of Tyler Morgan, and the next chapter in God’s Revelation to mankind.

going back to bed, tired, until 09:45

alarm set 08:49

1700513/20130617a) You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry June 17, 2013

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18:27 BST (British Summer Time).
Kamal, 13th (Qadrat) Nur, 170 BE
Perfection, Power of Light
Monday, 17th June 2013 AD

Winston’s cousin, Randolph, worked at the Ministry of Peace in Cambridge whipping up war-fever for the success of Oceania for the western elite. The work was relentless, stressful and stretched both his stamina AND his loyalty to Big Brother to its limits, but he had one over his cousin, since his hiking trip into the countryside had given him covert contact with “the authors”, those activists who had read Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” before The Change, and had taken its message to heart. With great care Randolph avoided the telescreens and seeing-eye drones as he made contact at the arranged rendez-vous and met with “the authors” again in a wood just outside city limits. He became fascinated with the knowledge that “the authors” divulged and decided by the end of their meeting, to render to memory a proscribed work by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi on the skills and results of Transendental Meditation. After The Change, when every government on Earth had become overnight oppressive and tyrannical and had declared illegal any work that stimulated independent thought. In the interests of the national security of the elite, of course. Randolph started to practice what he was committing to memory, and whereas in his conditioned, brainwashed, indoctrinated mind, there was no opposition to the war-mongering tub-thumping for Oceania, and his new found knowledge was to be used to enhance his continental jingoism, the meditation of the Hindu backed Maharishi had different ideas. His meditative reverie explored corners and subtleties of his consciousness that Randolph had never suspected existed, and soon he was also noticing that the sonic and video frequencies of the telescreens were no longer jamming his ability to dream, whilst asleep, and with the drawn-back elastic of his mind springing back into freedom, the deluge of deliriously joyous utopian visions, as well as the nightmarish warnings of negativity was like an LSD trip with no boundaries, and with contact with “the authors” at a premium, no buddy to either accompany him on the fall-out of a bad dream, or to de-brief him afterwards. As Randolph rode his bicycle to the Ministry, he found himself amazed at Nature, as he began anew to realise those forces not at the whim of The Party. He also began to realise that his natural intelligence and imagination was taking his consciousness into areas that The Party would not only label “anti-social” and “anti-Party”, but would also label incomprehensible, as his mind delved into subjects, that the Party’s intelligence could not handle. He was deliriously happy, but his intellect became even sharper, and his rational analysis of risks from above was becoming equal to its task. Then, month’s later, when the new paradigm was settled and well-founded in his perceptions and comprehension, he discovered a Truth that Winston himself would have found impossible to accept, even in his most rebellious resolve against Big Brother. Randolph discovered “The Kingdom on Earth”, the mythical fulfillment of the Lord’s Prayer, that even the Christians had long ago forgotten as a wishful dream and fantasy that was never going to happen in this life. One of “the authors” had seen in his eyes a spark of spirit and had sought him out in private, and slipped him a dog-eared copy of “Baha’u’llah and The New Era” written in the 1920s, by Dr John Ebenezer Esslemont. After his intellect had absorbed the intellectual content of this book, his mind was curious to find more and after he read “The Dawnbreakers” by Nabil-i-Azam his heart and soul started to awaken to the idea that this was not merely a political New Jerusalem but also The Kingdom of God on Earth, a religious epic, that the Gospel of Jesus was merely a prelude to, a prefiguring, a forerunner. And he became a Baha’i, which, under The Party, and Big Brother, was an adventure that he could never have imagined beforehand. Necessity was the mother of invention, and sheer survival called for heroism, courage, and indomitable faith on a scale that beggared belief. Reality changed for Randolph then, his sight and hearing becoming aligned to truths and perceptions that Big Brother would not only not comprehend but also dangerously underestimate. A mere phantom of earthly power is hardly a match for a God that the earthly power is sure does not exist.

1700506/20130610b) The screaming E-B-Geebies. June 10, 2013

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20:41 BST (British Summer Time).
Kamal, 6th (Rahmat) Nur, 170 BE

Perfection, Mercy of Light
Monday, 10th June 2013 AD

Reginald Spalding, no relation, woke up and waddled grudgingly into the bathroom and spied himself in the mirror to look a bit like Herge’s Tin Tin with that silly little quiff atop his nondescript looking head and wondered why, every time he awoke, he felt like the leading man, a non-existent ant-hero, in a Philip K Dick sci-fi novel. He checked his mobile and found a missed call from the NYPD, a friend, a social call, and ended up in a cruiser, the one allocated to his friend, and then ended up in a helicopter jetting its way across NY port authority inlets and gazed at the impossible skyscape extending itself in all directions below him. Why would he want to live in NY, he asked his soul, using the rational intellectual part of his consciousness. Where else, his soul replied, with as much of an explanation as any woman would give, none. He rolled his eyes at his soul’s lack of transparency, and again considered himself, for the umpteenth time, clinically insane. The sat nav on the computer chirped up with the ETA, of nineteen minutes, to their destination, the home of Tony Stretch, an NY acquaintance, who had developed a new interest in a subject he knew little about, unlike his NYPD chum who knew a lot, The Baha’i Faith. What a way to get a ride to a fireside, he thought to himself. But now that Heinlein Corporation Shipstones were as cheap as laptops had become twenty years before, and helicopters thus cheap to fly as well, a trip in an NYPD helicopter, paid for and used out of the hours of professional police service, was no longer a thing of impossibility. The thrill and vista of it still made Reg’s heart full and his eyes as well. This was a childhood dream fulfilled in shedloads. His eyes rolled again. His inner parent tolerated his inner child like the scathing and sarcastic father he wished he’d never known. Such is life’s rich pageant, his rational and cynical mind scolded his inmost soul again, with mocking disdain. He’d have to do something about his mind, his soul thought to himself, and turned back his focus to again enjoying the view of millions of office lights turning facades of office blocks into shades of grey, a seventh or ninth wonder of the western world, western civilization, the saving of which was the topic of tonight’s fireside. Should be interesting, he thought to his soul.

1288) Published: Short Story: The Pandorica Reactivates… July 17, 2010

Posted by pete1844 in Short Story.
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Typed and posted 19:15,
Jalal, 5th Kalimat 167 BE
Glory, Light of Words, in year 167 of the Baha’i Era
Saturday, 17th July 2010 AD
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1288) The Pandorica Reactivates…

The Pandorica hidden in plain sight, observed by all, but seen by no one, had been dormant for three years, and now, unbidden by any earthly agency, but triggered by forces beyond the ken of ordinary sentient beings, was now stirring into life once again, and the outcome was wildly unpredictable, even for the all-seeing, all-knowing Pandorica itself. It knew that that the forces that had stirred it back into life were strange beyond all reasoning, and as well as being communicated to it, by means unknown to ordinary knowledge, the reasons for this new awakening were all also, like Stalin in the eyes of Churchill, a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. The Pandorica, like a Galley-Freeing Tardis belonging to the Time Lord Himself, was itself, though a sort of machine, was nevertheless, itself a sentient being, though unlike such rudimentary machines now in existence at the hands, of human beings, albeit utilizing Zilon technology from the “grays” of Zeta Reticuli 3, like Hal 9000 and his superior partner machine Phoenix, under the care of Dr Chandra in Northcom, infinitely more subtle, complex, sophisticated, and capable of processes way beyond the comprehension of human beings, let alone a logical calculating machine like Hal or even Phoenix. Pandorica marveled at its own mysteriousness, and was even more enthralled and captivated by the processes and their even more mysterious origins that now coursed through its myriad neural nets. The Pandorica was reactivating, but why now, and for what? The Pandorica itself could not begin, even to speculate about the causes of this new life, with any degree of rational logic, since there was no empirical evidence on which to base such argument. The Pandorica turned instead to its right-hemisphere functions to brain-storm possibly speculative theories, without being hide-bound by mere reason, such as in “How can feeble reason encompass the Qur’án, Or the spider snare a phoenix in his web? Wouldst thou that the mind should not entrap thee? Teach it the science of the love of God!” (Baha’u’llah, The Four Valleys, p. 52). Having turns its consciousness towards right-brain creativity and allied functions, with the left-brain logic functions put on stand-by on the back-burner, the Pandorica steeled itself for a shock of a mystical and psychic power surge, which it estimated a 92% probability of destabilizing all normal functions, at least temporarily. The Pandorica quickly came to a highly improbable, if not impossible conclusion. There could be only one explanation, routed in an ostensibly innocent, insignificant event 4 years before, when a child of eccentric, bohemian and unorthodox thinking had merely gazed at the Pandorica, and not only observed its mundane appearance, but also SEEN its potential significance and power, and though witnessing this immeasurably portentous phenomenon, had simply noted the truth in front of her, and walked away as if she’d seen nothing out the ordinary. There were qualities in that mere human child that defied all conventional wisdom, and although not noticed by any other humans in the time, the Pandorica HAD noticed that it had been seen, and then, ignored, and had then forgotten that it had been seen, and then ignored. But now, something had suddenly changed, and that little girl KNEW the reason and nature of this change. The Pandorica could do NOTHING  but to watch and wait, as all its tremendous systems were powering up, for a mission and for reasons of which even it, in its extensive knowledge and data-base, had No Idea!

A still small voice was heard deep inside Pandorica deepest recesses of his alien Zilon CPU, with its cyborg, part biological, part technological core. The little girl in her intuitive, psychic, telepathic soul heard it too, many miles away. “How can I understand mysterious Padorica! How can I understand my wise Baha’i children? So let the hearts embrace the hearts in the love of Myself, Baha’u’llah, and let the divine fragrance spread farther and farther to all corners of this long-suffering world, especially the long-suffering Iran! And let us hope for the great glory of this planet in the near future.” Immediately, Pandorica  woke up from his delusions of technological sci-fi grandeur, a manifestation of his coping mechanism of dissociation from the harshness of real people in a perceived emotional desert of a childhood, and the little girl, grew up from her fantasy of spiritual super-powers and gained quickly a sense of her own real maturity, her common humanity with others, her being comfortable being an ordinary adult human being, and as the two people woke up from their mortal graves of their own misconceptions, fantasies, delusions and fancies, they remembered each other and sought each other out. The young woman knew the address of “The Pandorica”, simply an apartment full of books, and tapes, and discs, and found the man, slightly older, who lived there. Their common humanity struck them like a thunderbolt, since they’d both hidden from this aspect of themselves for many a long year. They found an escape from themselves in each other and it was love at 2nd sight. And they lived happily ever after in the same apartment which they called Pandorica and used their experiences of life to spread word to many people in their own town about Baha’u’llah, gleaning great inspiration from each other, since “marriage is a fortress of well-being and salvation”. And since they lived near a great city of world-wide renown for its academic excellence, they were able to spread their knowledge of Baha’u’llah to many important people, including Muslims who had a particularly moderate but pure idea of Islam in their minds, in which the Qur’an was all important to Islam, rather than the Hadith and its derivative, the shariah legal code, in all its differing guises. And this version of Islam spread like wild-fire amongst the Muslims in such a way that many misconceptions about Islam which had been promoted through the world for centuries fell by the wayside, making it  possible for the first time for the masses amongst Muslims both of Sunni as well as Shiah background to see that believing in Baha’u’llah did not in any way invalidate or contradict belief in Muhammad and/or the Qur’an just as believing in Christ 2000 years ago did not in any way belittle the law and/or person of Moses. Soon the new Islam was reconciled to the Christian church and soon after that so many had become Baha’is that Christians started to realize  in far larger numbers as well that belief in Baha’u’llah did not invalidate or belittle belief in Jesus either, and the unity and oneness of mankind became much, much closer. Many others apart from our leading lad and lady also played an equally momentous part in this adventure, this global revival and regeneration, and soon, the world had become another world, and the Pandorica and his little girl became just another footnote in the history of mankind, just another couple bringing up two children into the future of their next generation, and were eventually forgotten, but years and decades later when they both found themselves in the Abha Kingdom, they found that Baha’u’llah, the Bab and ‘Abdu’l-Baha had never forgotten either of them for a moment and they became even more assured of the infinite and amazing grace of their Lord.

1284) Published: Short Story: The Green MEV of the Eve-Meme of Zorgagon/Zorabsbon! June 19, 2010

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08:12, Saturday, 19th June 2010 AD
08:13, Jalal, 15th Nur 167 BE
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1284) Published: Short Story: The Green MEV of the Eve-Meme of Zorabsbon/Zorgagon!

Captain Mav McMucklemass in his dark Green MEV (Martian Excursion Vehicle) with double thin magenta stripes around its caboudle sees two big firey Boggies and Furrballs coming at him head to head, and a quick 5 step to the port, causing gross temporal distortion of leglessness, is followed closely, by a barrage of misty marshmarrow discumbers entailing an even more nifty 9 step to starboard, at which the serpentine rock mamba, ceases miraculously to be, and dematerializes into a vague aperration of faint purple haze, which, assimilated quickly into the Solarian Air, dissipates and makes its mark on the conglomerated wholeness, devoting and submitting its particular maptapeal to the totality of Planet Zorabsbon. Depp Charged Joy! exclaims the watching monitoring UNiprofessional Scannertomin-powered Super-Computer Thingy. Its report up to the Bostick Satation, is most satisfactory, and another chalked up success is added to the tally, of unity-building unit functions that prosper every citizen hubeanism living in the cities dotted around the girth of Zorabsbon.

1277) Published: Short Story: The Pete-in-the-Box v2 June 9, 2010

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V1 (1273) Typed and posted 21:19, Sunday, 30th May 2010 AD
V2 (1277) Edited and adapted from V1 09:33, Wednesday, 9th June 2010 AD
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1277) The Pete-in-the-Box

Once upon a time, on a far off planet, long ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, there was a small kingdom in an island off the coast of a medium-sized continent, full of little people with big ideas about being “organized”. They all behaved a bit like soldiers, or a bit like  faithful servants of their royal Queen, and were all utterly loyal in doing as they were told, and as they were expected, and were VERY well-behaved (most of the time). They were model citizens, and their little nation was very orderly and smoothly-run. In one family, in this little nation, they were all very well-behaved, except one. There’s ALWAYS one! He TRIED to be well-behaved, but failed, time and time again. Every time he failed to be well-behaved, and lost control, or misbehaved, or just didn’t do what he was expected to do, or didn’t think what he was taught to think, or didn’t feel was he was told to feel, he’d get into awful trouble, and the consequences of this became worse and worse and worse. He was called Pete, surprisingly. Sometimes, he daydreamed daydreams of a different world, that he only read about, or saw on television, and dreamed his dreams, of a world where people behaved differently, thought differently and felt differently, with idealistic altruism and belief in the brotherhood of all mankind, and not pragmatic expediency and self-interest, but when he talked about his dream-world, no one was interested, since it was only a dream and not real, and he was regarded just as a “dreamer” and nothing more. There wasn’t much call for dreamers in that nation then, and definitely not amongst his family and friends. And if anyone DID dream, and had the unwisdom to talk about their dreams, the soldiers and officials always got angry and rebuked them. Pete refused to suppress his dreams, and his dreams grew. Every time he saw something, read something or watched something about dreams, he’d study it intently, and since no one could control his thoughts, he capitalized on his freedom to think, to his heart’s content. It was only when he spoke that he got into trouble, since it was then that the soldiers and officials who were watching him, noticed his “dreams”. As he grew older, those in authority who were watching him, became increasingly concerned with his “free-thinking” and tried to curb him into more conventional ways of thinking, but they failed to impress him. A storm was brewing, and he was on a collision course with those “who had his best interests at heart”. Then he heard of a wise-man who’d lived in another country, and he started to follow his ideas, and soon became his follower. This wise man wasn’t from his country, and most people there were not interested in him since he was foreign, but being “foreign” wasn’t an issue for Pete, because he read of how his followers behaved and had suffered and how they had been saintly, and how they had dreamed of a better world, and knew that this wise man, though foreign, was not someone to be ignored. His compatriots did not like this. Shortly afterward, he had a crisis, when he’d fallen in love with a girl, who wasn’t interested in a mere “dreamer”, and since his understanding of the wise man’s ideas was so new, and incomplete, he became unhappy and ill. The officials thought that this might be a way for him to let go of his interest in this foreigner who claimed to be very wise, but the officials underestimated both the wise man and Pete, and they were not to be parted so easily. He was given medicine to stop him thinking so much and worrying, as if to try to put his mind and heart in a box, close the lid and lock it down with a key, and then throw away the key. They underestimated the wise man and Pete, for unbeknown to them, both the wise man and Pete had a hot line to the Creator of the Universe, and because of this, they were both more powerful than Pete could imagine, and far more powerful than all the people on the planet, let only all the soldiers and officials of that small island nation. And so Pete watched and waited, knowing that one day, things might change, when the Creator found a way. In the meantime, he’s have to be satisfied to live in his box with his medicine, with his mind dulled and his heart lifeless, his emotions all as flat as a pancake. He watched and waited and watched and waited. The Creator was very patient and fore-bearing, giving the soldiers, officials and doctors an opportunity to mend their ways but they didn’t, and Pete was patient as well. Sometimes Pete got despondent, but he never lost hope that one day the Creator would find a way to put things right. He knew that it was probably just a dream and that he might have to wait for the next world for things to be put right, but if so, he was patient enough to wait for that too. The years rolled past and then many years later, after many vicissitudes, tests and trails, he met someone who had a cure that the doctors either didn’t know about or knew about and wouldn’t tell Pete about lest his mind would become sharp again, or his heart might feel strong emotions again. This friend was also a follower of the wise man, and he wasn’t a doctor, since all the doctors were not allowed to make people well, but to keep their hearts flat and their minds dull. In 2 years time he no longer needed the medicine, and his mind became strong again, and his heart became resolute, his thoughts became sharper and clearer, his emotions more full of life, and after 3 years of his new natural medicine, he was by now, in excellent health. He was out of his box, and if he could help it, all his friends would ensure that he needn’t go back in his box ever again. His friend with his natural cure, the wise man from the next world was with him every step of the way, and had been throughout his life, for he had passed on to heaven about half a century before Pete was born. His new freedom was intoxicating, and he often became drunk with excitement and joy. This made the soldiers, the officials and doctors frown. But they could do very little and just frowned from the sidelines, watching. Maybe soon they would get bored, lose interest, and leave Pete alone to get on with his life that had been on hold in the box for 33 years. Sometimes, even the followers of the wise man would frown and worry about him getting drunk on his newly-won freedom, but Pete was finding more and more people who were also free from being in the box, as though he was learning “wisdom” for the first time, and realizing what the people knew from a previous wise man many centuries before, who’d told them all to avoid giving their pearls to swine lest the swine tread the pearls underfoot and tear them to pieces. Pete needed to learn this wisdom asap lest he fall foul of angry pigs!  Pete was no longer a Pete-in-the-Box. He’d been given a new key to his lid, was out, and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put Pete back in his box again, “So Far”. But Pete doesn’t want anyone to be either sad or angry about any of this, because its all the Will of The Creator, and He said, through the wise man, that, “Nothing save that which profiteth them can befall My loved ones.” (Shoghi Effendi quoting Baha’u’llah in,” The Advent of Divine Justice”, page 82). The followers of the previous wise man understand this.

1273) Published: Short Story: The Pete-in-the-Box v1 May 30, 2010

Posted by pete1844 in Short Story.
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Typed and posted 21:19, Sunday, 30th May 2010 AD
.
1273) The Pete-in-the-Box

Once upon a time, on a far off planet, long ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, there was a small kingdom in an island off a medium-sized continent, full of little people with big ideas about to be “organized”. They all behaved a bit like soldiers, or a bit like servants, and were all utterly loyal in doing as they were told, and as they were expected, and were VERY well-behaved. They were model citizens, and their little nation was very orderly and smoothly-run. In one family, in this little nation, they were all very well-behaved, except one. There’s ALWAYS one! He TRIED to be well-behaved, but failed, time and time again. Every time he failed to be well-behaved, and lost control, or misbehaved, or just didn’t do what he was expected to do, or didn’t think what he was taught to think, or didn’t feel was he was told to feel, he’d get into awful trouble, and the consequences of this became worse and worse and worse. He was called Pete, surprisingly. Sometimes, he daydreamed daydreams of a different world, that he only read about, or saw on television, and dreamed his dreams, of a world where people behaved differently, thought differently and felt differently, but when he talked about his dream-world, no one was interested, since it was only a dream and not real, and he was regarded just as a “dreamer” and nothing more. There wasn’t much call for dreamers in that nation then. And if anyone DID dream, and had the unwisdom to talk about their dreams, the soldiers and officials always got angry and rebuked them. Pete refused to suppress his dreams, and his dreams grew. Every time he saw something, read something or watched something about dreams, he’d study it intently, and since no one could control his thoughts, he capitalized on his freedom to think, to his heart’s content, It was only when he spoke that he got into trouble, since it was then that the soldiers and officials who were watching him, noticed his “dreams”. As he grew older, those in authority who were watching him, became increasingly concerned with his “free-thinking” and tried to curb him into more conventional ways of thinking, but they failed to impress him. A storm was brewing, and he was on a collision course with those “who had his best interests at heart”. Then he heard of a wise-man who’d lived in another country, and he started to follow his ideas, and soon became his follower. This wise man wasn’t from his country, and most people there were not interested in him since he was foreign, but being “foreign” wasn’t an issue for Pete, because he read of how his followers behaved had suffered and how they had been saintly, and knew that this wise man, though foreign, was not someone to be ignored. His compatriots did not like this. Shortly afterward, he had a crisis, when he’d fallen in love with a girl, who wasn’t interested in a mere “dreamer”, and since his understanding of the wise man’s ideas was so new, and incomplete, he became unhappy and ill. The officials thought that this might be a way for him to let go of his interest in this foreigner who claimed to be very wise, but the officials underestimated both the wise man and Pete, and they were not to be parted so easily. He was given medicine to stop him thinking so much and worrying, as if to try to put his mind and heart in a box, close the lid and lock it down with a key, and then throw away the key. They underestimated the wise man and Pete, for unbeknown to them, both the wise man and Pete had a hot line to the Creator of the Universe, and because of this, they were both more powerful than Pete could imagine, and far more powerful than all the people on the planet, let only all the soldiers and officials of that small island nation. And so Pete watched and waited, knowing that one day, things might change, when the Creator found a way. In the meantime, he’s have to be satisfied to live in his box with his medicine, with his mind dulled and his heart lifeless, his emotions all as flat as a pancake. He watched and waited and watched and waited. The Creator was very patient and fore-bearing, giving the soldiers, officials and doctors an opportunity to mend their ways but they didn’t, and Pete was patient as well. Sometimes Pete got despondent, but he never lost hope that one day the Creator would find a way to put things right. He knew that it was probably just a dream and that he might have to wait for the next world for things to be put right, but if so, he was patient enough to wait for that too. The years rolled past and then many years later, after many vicissitudes, tests and trails, he met someone who had a cure that the doctors either didn’t know about or knew about and wouldn’t tell Pete about lest his mind would become sharp again, or his heart might feel strong emotions again. This friend was also a follower of the wise man, and he wasn’t a doctor, since all the doctors were not allowed to make people well, but to keep their hearts flat and their minds dull. In 2 years time he no longer needed the medicine, and his mind became strong again, and his heart became resolute, his thoughts became sharper and clearer, his emotions more full of life, and after 3 years of his new natural medicine, he was by now, in excellent health. He was out of his box, and if he could help it, all his friends would ensure that he needn’t go back in his box ever again. His friend with his natural cure, the wise man from the next world was with him every step of the way, and had been throughout his life, for he had passed on to heaven about half a century before Pete was born. His new freedom was intoxicating, and he often became drunk with excitement and joy. This made the soldiers, the officials and doctors frown. But they could do very little and just frowned from the sidelines, watching. Maybe soon they would get bored, lose interest, and leave Pete alone to get on with his life that had been on hold in the box for 33 years. Sometimes, even the followers of the wise man would frown and worry about him getting drunk on his newly-won freedom, but Pete was finding more and more people who were also free from being in the box, though he was learning “wisdom” for the first time, and realizing what the people knew from a previous wise man many centuries before, who’d told them all to avoid giving their pearls to swine lest the swine tread the pearls underfoot and tear them to pieces. Pete needed to learn this wisdom asap lest he fall foul of angry pigs!  Pete was no longer a Pete-in-the-Box. He’d been given a new key to his lid, was out, and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put Pete back in his box again, “So Far”. But Pete doesn’t want anyone to be either sad or angry about any of this, because its all the Will of The Creator, and He said, through the wise man, that, “Nothing save that which profiteth them can befall My loved ones.” (Shoghi Effendi quoting Baha’u’llah in,” The Advent of Divine Justice”, page 82). The followers of the previous wise man understand this.

1189) Published: Short Story: Nottingham Drop Zone March 5, 2010

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Typed and written, 11:32, Friday, 5th March 2010 CE
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1189) Nottingham Drop Zone

As the Drop Ship approached its destination North East of the Marine’s Base Ship, Steve said, “Becky, wake up Pete, we’re nearly there!” When awake, Becky asked Pete, “Have you ever been taken for a man?” “No, have you?” quipped Pete. Steve exclaimed, looking forward to the exciting task of being Delegate No46E, “Express elevator to heaven, going up!” Pete, felt differently, and readied for total war, felt safe, with no anxiety or apprehension, even with the prospect of being in the Nottingham Central Alien-Technology Environmental Reactor building itself, surrounded on all sides by a myriad implacably hostile and vicious aliens, like Cohagen and his stooge, Richter, in “Total Recall”, intent on preventing the Reactor being triggered, thereby keeping a tight control on their monopoly of Air for men, to concentrate and consolidate their grip on power for their elite. The Reactor, like the Pyramid Mine on Mars was designed to change the atmosphere of Earth in order to bring life to the barren emotional desert of mens’ psyches, not just the elite, but all men. He felt serene, confident; all he had to do was remain calm under fire, supremely alert, and ready with Baha’i quotations at a moment’s notice, just like his hero Ripley had been in “Aliens” when with supreme alertness, and ready with a fully fueled flame-thrower at her disposal, she’s been able, in just 26 minutes, escape a nuclear explosion the size of Nebraska, together with Newt, with the assistance of the competent, rational expertise of  android Bishop. Pete, laughed at his own melodramatic sense of humor. “Not bad for a human!” said Steve, on his ‘home, with typical Vulcan logic.

1178) Published: Short Story: It’s All Greek to Me March 1, 2010

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Typed and written 07:48, Monday, 1st March 2010 CE.
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1178) It’s All Greek to Me

It is the year of Our Lord, 165, and here in a provincial Greek city, renowned for it’s intellectual learning, I am spending the day in a charity organization, under the supervision of a Greek official, abiding as a good citizen should, under Roman Law, and in the company of other Greeks, under his mentorship, in the company of a sprinkling of immigrants, from the province of Judea, whose people are dotted all over the known world, in small communities, keeping to themselves to an extent, intent as they are to cleave to their Mosaic Law and cultural traditions. A girl of such a Jewish emigre community here  in this city, in the environs of their large central synagogue, is in my section, enjoying the mentorship of the Greek, as I am. These people of Judea are regarded with interest by us Greeks, and elsewhere in the city, I go to another synagogue to study their Judaic scriptures, and learn if ideals that have underpinned every ideal that I have grown up to hold dear, though the vast majority of my fellow Greeks and the Romans as well, do not know that their civilization sprang from the mystic inpsiration of Jewish scholars under Solomon’s rule and protection. The Romans however are not so tolerant of the Jewish community, whom they feel threatened by, on account of the zealots who do not respect the civilization of the Romans, and personify the satirical humour of a comedy, written in Athens a few years ago, which stigmatised teh attitude of the zealots with the rhetorical question, “What have the Romans ever done for us?” As a Greek convert to the religion of the Son of the Everlasting Father, I am held in suspicion and some resentment by some of the Greeks, who feel that my beliefs are foolishness. And as for the Jews, there are some who recognize something of my idealism, but most regard me as a heretic, blaspheming against the Mosaic Law for daring to assert a new Revelation that does not mirror exactly there Jewish beliefs and culture. The Son, begotten of The Everlasting Father, narrowly escaped crucifixion by the high preists Caiaphas and Annas, through a revolution by a group of Young Jews, who caused all religious and political prisoners including teh Son, to be released. As a result, nearly a hundred years ago, the Son came to this city for one day, whilst being based in Athens for a few months. He gave a talk at a prestigious local seat of learning devoted to teh unity of all religious thought, and spoke of the unity and peace of the whole of the known world. I cycle past that seat of learning often and imagine him giving His talk in the library there, nearly a hundred years ago. That always gives me a thrill. He married and had 4 daughters, and appointed his eldest grand-son to be His successor, to carry forward the work of His Cause of world peace, and building the Kingdom opf God on Earth. He sent him to this city to study for six months, before He Himself passed away, and His grand-son had to break off his studies to take up his duties of leading the small band of his grandfather’s followers. Now, 65 years later, there are 56 of us in this city, 40 of them of the age to be eligible, as adults, to be elected to the assembly of believers in this city, the assembly being of the 9 receiving each April, the highest number of votes, by secret ballot, of all the 40 of the city. Its an exciting time to be alive, as the Faith of God gradually grows and develops, spreading ever deeper and wider in the hearts of the people, though the Greeks and Jews, look on askance, and will rise up against us when they realize Who The Everlasting Father, His Forerunner, who was executed by the King of Judea 150 or so years ago, His Son, and Their Faith actually claim to be, in relation to the State of Rome.

1074) Published: Short Story: Computer says No December 12, 2009

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Typed and written 11:33, Saturday, 12th December 2009 CE
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1074) Computer says No

There was this computer, right. It comprised, basically, a CPU with one main peripheral terminal. Now the CPU was working fine, but there was a problem with the peripheral terminal, which was infected with a lethal virus, that rendered the unit virtually clinically insane. The CPU’s security software spotted the problem, but too late to prevent at least some compromising of its rational functions. The CPU initially suffered severe damage but by shutting down as much connectivity to the terminal as soon as could be arranged, that damage was reduced. The viral infected software in the terminal was adaptive, however, and sought ingenious new methods of getting back an unconscionable foothold in the CPU, and the CPU, although aware of the new incursion, fought back with its adaptive logic, to minimise any risk of new damage, without cutting the connectivity to the terminal, whose specialised functions were, despite the viral infection, invaluable to the CPU. Watch this space. The CPU and the terminal, though mutually interdependent, are in a state of dynamic tension, the rational logic of the CPU being in a constant cat and mouse struggle for survival with the irrational viral infection which has virtually taken hostage the terminal. This dynamic tension is quite unstable, and the balance of power shifts between the two elements by the hour, but as this struggle continues, the adaptive logic and the adaptive viral infection, are gradually coming to a symbiotic mutual understanding, whereby their peculiar talents are learning to co-exist in more harmony to the mutual benefit of both. Other CPUs in the network look on with horror as this CPU makes accommodations with, in these other CPUs eyes, totally lethal and obnoxiously irrational viral manifestations. But this CPU has been handling such viral incursions for some decades, and feels confident that progress is being made, and the latest viral incursion of the last 3 years, though dangerous and responsible for serious disruption, is now, according to the rational judgment of this CPU, under acceptable limits, though the other CPUs are replete in scepticism of this CPUs self-confidence and expect an imminent crash of the whole system. Time will tell.