EARTH PLAN (16 page)

“Like when they drove you out of countries and stole your scrolls and burned them?”

Lang smiled gently. “Let me ask you something. If you were a vicious conqueror, bent on the destruction of a people who had more advanced knowledge than you did, knowledge that was a real threat to you, would you just burn their writings after you had taken them?” He raised an eyebrow.

Charles made a wry smile. “No, I don’t suppose I would!”

“Exactly. We don’t suppose they did, either. In fact, we know they kept our writings, and many others, and deciphered them to gain access to what we knew. They were not able to make all of it work for them, as a lot of it takes one with a pure heart and good intentions to put it into practice. Call it a law of the universe. But, there was enough there, enough understanding of the universe and its laws that a lot has been done with what was stolen from us and many other societies, too. They used what they could for their dark purposes. With that, and instruction from their dark master, they put up a real fight for us on this planet, made it into quite the hellhole on many levels.”

“But you think there’s hope? Otherwise we wouldn't be here talking, right?” Charles thought this was one of the most exciting conversations he’d ever had.

“Of course there is! The dark forces are not more powerful than us; on the contrary, they are weaker. What they have going for them is a hypnotized mass of humans that they can bend to their will. This is party due to the DNA effects you so smartly have uncovered, and partly due to a systemic brainwashing through the centuries.”

“Did you know about these DNA problems?” Charles asked.

“We did. Though they were not widely known. Researchers who have spoken publicly about their findings have been run out of their careers, fired, and blacklisted, even killed.”

“I noticed that in my reading,” Charles said. “It’s very strange. You’d think science would be open to something like that.”

“It depends what circles of science you mean. There are some, like the militaries with their black projects and certain governments with negative agendas who know. And a few people in secret societies, both light and dark, know. But for the public at large, no; it’s just another thing they are not told, so they can be better controlled by the Dark One and his minions.”

“Minions? Sounds like devils,” Charles chuckled.

Lang and Stan shared a look. “Very much like that,” Lang said. “But we can go into that in more detail later. We want to know, now that you have a better idea of who we are, will you work for us?” Lang said.

“Do I have to join your secret society?” Charles asked. The professor watched Charles's face with interest.

“Yes, that’s the whole point,” Lang said.

“But how do I know you are any better than the other groups, or the Illuminati? I mean, you guys were watching me, too!” Charles pointed at Chang.

“We had to make sure you were who you said you were and were trustworthy. The professor tipped us off to you, and we took his recommendation seriously. When he told of what you had discovered, we knew we’d have to step in to safeguard your life, as it would only be a matter of time before the Illuminati would have had you killed—or “accidented,” or “suicided,” Lang explained.

“They would have killed me?” Charles’s mouth went slack.

“We believe so, yes. Charles, it’s not just anyone who has made the discoveries you have made, who has seen the things you’ve seen in the mystic state! You don’t realize how rare you are in this world! We do and feel it’s our mission to protect ones like you; ones like us. When you left your job, those behind the scenes of your employers were quite concerned you’d go public with what you had found—and yes, they were aware of what you had found. They have very advanced surveillance methods that you are not even aware of, like psychic spies who probed your mind.”

“Psychic spies?” Charles smirked. “Come on!”

“I’ve been reading your mind, haven't I? Answering questions you’ve not verbalized this evening. What makes you think others can’t do that same thing?”

Charles was silent for a moment; he had him there. “But at my job? At the lab?”

“That company is a front for secret military projects, I’m sure you suspected as much. They supply the black ops with data and technology. Those sorts of groups have been using psychic spies for a long time. You can bet on it that they were scanning all of their employees on a regular basis,” Lang said. He picked up the wine bottle and poured some more for himself and the professor, emptying it.

Chang was drinking whiskey and got up to serve himself another drink from the bar. Charles sipped his beer.

Stan turned to Chang and said, “Open another bottle please, so it can breathe?” Chang nodded and took another bottle from behind the bar, worked in a corkscrew and popped the cork.

“But,” Charles strove on, “if they could read my mind, they would have known that I wasn’t going to do anything with the information I’d found. I was too freaked out for that. So, why would they need to have someone follow me around, or plan to kill me?”

“Because,” Lang said slowly, turning the fine cut glass in his hand, admiring the way the firelight bounced around in its depths, “we put a shield of protection around you, making you impervious to psychic intrusion. We were guarding you, Charles. That's why they could no longer read your mind and had to rely on physical methods to see what you were up to.”

“But you were using physical methods on me, too. Why? If you could read my mind?”

“It's not always exact, and our shielding also shielded you from us, to an extent. We could take no chances.”

“Holy, moley!” Charles got up and paced around, looking into the fire. “So, what’s all this mean? What now?”

“We join together and continue our work. You and the professor repair what DNA you can. Then, we reintroduce that repaired DNA into the biosphere and see what happens. We’ll use our esoteric methods and ask the Watchers for their assistance, also...”

“The Watchers?” Charles asked. Chang and Stan looked at him.

“Our spiritual guardians, you could say. Charles, we feel we are at a threshold here! For the first time in human history we have the tools to combat, in a mass way, the DNA piracy that has been going on! Up until now we were only able to repair the DNA person to person, plant to plant, animal to animal. The process was slow and would take generations. But now, with things like nanotech, we can make great strides. We can strike back at the followers of the Dark One with their own tools turned against them, to the side of good. Do you know what a chance this is for all life on Earth? And beyond?”

“I don’t know about beyond—maybe that’s another conversation!” Charles said and laughed. He turned to the professor, holding up his empty beer bottle. “Mind if I get a refill?”

“Help yourself,” the professor waved him in the direction of the bar.

Chang, still standing behind the bar, watching the conversation, opened the fridge and handed out a beer.

“Thanks,” Charles said and opened it. He took a long sip, thinking about all of this, wondering if they were reading his mind. He looked at Lang, “Do me a favor? Don’t read my mind unless I tell you?”

“Sure,” Lang said, smiling. He looked at Chang, who smiled too. “We respect that,” Chang confirmed.

“Good! I don’t think I could take it, otherwise.”

“Any other questions?” Lang said.

“When do we start?” Charles looked from Lang to the professor.

“I’m ready whenever,” the professor said.

“Alright, we’ll start tomorrow, if that’s alright with you both?” Lang looked from Charles to the professor. They both nodded.

“Good for me,” Charles said. “I’m itching to get back to work—real work! Something I can really sink my teeth into and believe in!”

Lang and the professor shared a smile. “I think we can provide that for you,” Lang said.

They had a couple more drinks and shared some food that the professor’s wife had prepared. After, they stepped out on the patio so the professor could light up a spliff.

“Oh, it’s chilly out tonight!” Lang said, rubbing his hands.

Stan grinned and fired up a patio heater. “Here, stand under this!”

Lang moved under the heater. “That does help, thanks! I’m not used to this cold weather anymore.”

“Where have you been?” Charles asked.

“I follow the sun. Where it goes, I go. When it turns winter in one hemisphere, I live in the other one and vise-versa,” Lang said.

“Must be nice!” Charles said.

The professor paused with the spliff in his mouth, lighter poised. “We could go down to the lab and turn on a fan if it’s still too cold out here?”

Moments later, the four of them were sitting on stools in the lab, huddled under a fume hood that was running, the fan sucking out the smoke as they toked away.

“This is not what we had in mind when we paid for this lab, but I think we can let this non-official use slide,” Lang said. He carefully passed the joint over.

“Your group likes your psychedelics, huh?” Charles said, taking the joint and toking.

“We do,” Lang nodded and let out a big puff of smoke into the hood. “The use of these substances is central to much of our knowledge and practice. Without them we wouldn’t be who we are, and that’s not an understatement.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It's a very good way to contact the Organic Light,” Lang said, looking off into space.

“Organic Light? What's that?” Charles asked. Stan looked at Lang.

“It's the spiritual essence of all things. Under certain conditions you can see it,” Lang said.

“Oh...I think I've seen some of that, during my acid trip,” Charles said.

“I think you might have,” Lang said. “It's a good bet.”

Charles said to Lang, “I’d love to trip with you sometime. Take some ‘shrooms or maybe some more acid. The prof here had some really good acid last time!” Charles smiled at the professor, who was grinning, stoned.

“I know. We gave it to him,” Lang said.

“You guys are something else!” Charles shook his head.

They finished the joint and talked until the early morning hours about a great many things and made their plans for restoring the DNA of humanity, and of all living things on the planet.

CHAPTER 27

Charles began showing up most every day at the professor’s lab, since he was no longer at his job. They were conducting a series of tests to see what the best way would be to “reinfect” DNA with its previous state and have it stick. They could easily tweak some DNA to the desired pattern, but then there were the problems of delivery to the intended life forms and having the changes remain.

“It appears some mechanism has been put into place that is reverting many of our changes back,” Stan said, on the speakerphone to Lang. Charles sat on a stool, watching and listening.

“I’m not surprised. Our enemy is very devious, indeed,” Lang said. “What do you have to say, Charles? Any ideas?”

“Are you sure it’s alright to talk over the phone about this? What if someone is listening and steals our techniques?” Charles asked.

“It’s a secure line. We installed it ourselves, and we are constantly monitoring it; it’s safe. Don’t worry, Charles,” Lang said.

“Alright.” Charles breathed out. “This business is a bit paranoia inducing. I did notice that there seem to be other symbols encoded in the DNA, beyond the mark of the Watchers. Has anyone noticed this?”

“No,” the prof said.

“Not that I know of,” Lang said. “What are they?”

“Well, it appears that these symbols are really programs,” Charles said.

The professor looked at him quizzically.

“Think of them like circuits in metal, or silicon. Circuits run a routine; a program. These symbols are biological software. They run routines against the changes we make, turning the DNA back to the Dark One’s designs. At least, that's what I think,” Charles said.

“Charles, that’s extraordinary! Good job!” The prof tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes, Charles, well done! How did you find this?” Lang asked.

“I just saw it the other day but didn’t know what to make of it, as the patterns are nowhere near as distinct as the circles. But they are there. I went away and thought about it for a while. Then I saw an animation of a circuit board, and it all clicked into place. I think when we can find out how to erase, or at least disrupt this pattern, we can shut off the auto-correcting program that has been implanted.”

“Fantastic work! Go for it! Do you need anything?” Lang asked.

The professor shrugged. Charles leaned closer to the phone. “I could use some more LSD. I think it will help me see into the patterns, at least I hope so.”

“It’s worth a try,” Lang said. “I’ll send some over with Chang. Some mushrooms, too. Plus, we’ve been making some potions of our own you might like to try.”

“Making your own?” Charles smiled.

“Of course! We make a great many of them, always have. You should come visit our headquarters one day in Prague, the city of the mystics. There are potions there that can do just about anything, made by our Guild throughout the centuries. Some of these potions are thousands of years old, can cure any disease…and a whole lot more.”

“Wow…” Charles shook his head.

“He’s not kidding. I’ve been there,” the prof said.

“Let’s get this thing cracked, then I’ll get you both tickets to Prague, how’s that? I think you should visit the cathedrals, especially. There are some things we can show you there that can be experienced nowhere else,” Lang said.

“Sounds intriguing. Count on it,” Charles said.

“Alight. I’ll let you go for now. Expect a visit from Chang. Good bye.”

“Goodbye,” Charles said.

“See you,” the prof said before the line went dead.

“Well, this is turning more interesting by the day!” Charles said.

“Good! I’m so glad you decided to come aboard. I was hoping you would. Not many would be able to get what we’re doing.”

“I can see that now. No wonder things are so secretive around here!” Charles laughed.

The prof winked and got up off the stool. “Some tea?”

“Please.”

The prof left the lab to go upstairs to make some tea, leaving Charles alone.

Charles looked at the screen where the display from the electron microscope was lit up. Moving the controls, he followed the contours of one of the shapes in the DNA. “Like a circuit board. Amazing.” His mind swam with conjectures of what the vast, but evil intelligence behind the counter-programs in the DNA must be like. And, of the good forces, who had equally, if not more impressive intelligences behind them. He wondered if he would ever meet such beings, and he wanted to, as he was not yet convinced that they really existed.

Of a Creator of the universe he had no doubt, as he appreciated the incredible complexity of life and matter working together in an intertwined order. There was also the structure of math, and of music, both adhering to rules that existed, and both informing the other. There was the Golden Mean, the master pattern behind matter. Yes, to Charles there was no doubt of a God. His servants however, or angles and devils, he was not sure of yet.

The prof came running down the stairs and slammed the door.

Charles spun around and looked at the door. “Whoa! What’s wrong?”

Stan pressed a button on the wall, and there was the sound of a mechanism sliding into place. A secondary steel door slid down from the ceiling, over the main door.

“There’s someone trying to break in to the house!” Stan gasped, breathless. He ran for the phone and dialed.

“What? Who?” Charles asked, alarmed.

The phone rang. It was picked up on the other end. “Professor?” Lang’s voice came from the speaker.

“I need help! I just went upstairs and someone’s breaking in! They're in black masks, all in black clothes, and have big guns!” the prof panted.

“Are you in the lab?”

“Yes. I’ve secured the emergency door.”

“Good. Hang tight. You’ll be safe in there for a while. Just hope they don’t have C4. Get the guns out. I’m sending some people over.”

“Please hurry!”

“I will.” Lang broke the connection.

“Who is it?” Charles asked.

“I don’t know. The dark side. The Illuminati. We have many enemies; could be any of them.” The prof unlocked a cabinet and opened the doors wide to reveal a small arsenal of guns of many types and sizes.

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, no kidding. I was hoping we’d never have to use them, but…!” The prof pulled out a machine gun. “Grab yourself one and get ready. They might be able to break in, they might not, but we’d better be ready just in case.”

“Don’t you have another way out of here?” Charles went to the cabinet and looked over the guns.

“Not yet. We’ve been planning a tunnel escape system, but that’s not easy to do in a residential area. We should have relocated by now, though, dammit!” The prof sat on a stool, his gun trained on the door.

There were sounds of banging and other noises from the other side of the door. “They’re trying to cut through, I think! That’s good though, let them try! It'll take weeks!” Stan said.

Charles pulled out a big machine gun and held it, surprised at its weight. “I’ve never fired anything bigger than a twenty-two.”

“Same thing, just a bigger kick. Bring it here.”

Charles brought the gun over, and Stan checked it out. He made sure it was ready to fire, with a clip and the safety off. “Just squeeze the trigger gently like on a twenty-two. It’s full auto, but you can turn it to single shot here,” the prof said as he flicked a switch.

“OK, I see.” Charles nodded.

“Get down by me.”

Charles took a seat a few feet away from the prof and aimed at the door.

“What are our chances?” Charles asked.

“That depends on if they have C4. And how long it takes Lang’s men to get here.”

They waited, crouched down with the guns pointed at the door for their fate to be deiced.

“We’ve got hours of air in here, plus I can turn on the filters if we need to stay in here longer. This place has a military-grade air filtration system, good for a chemical or nuclear attack,” the prof said.

“Good to know.” Charles swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to get out of there alive. He was a studious type, not used to guns and situations like this. His heart thumped in his chest, and he was sweating profusely. He’d never been more afraid in his life.

The banging on the door increased, getting louder. Then there were the sounds of gunfire on the other side of the door, then screams. But who was shooting who, Charles and the professor had no idea.

They waited, fear crushing them.