Gods Without Men (11 page)

The invitees filed in, to be greeted by a hearty handshake from the Guide, and a sort of Oriental greeting from Oriana, who pressed her palms together and made a little half-bow. There were only about twenty people present. Outside were ten thousand others who’d give their eye-teeth to be in this room. Was she really worthy? Higher mental abilities or not, she didn’t always
feel
very special. Touching her face, her fingers came away wet with sweat, and she knew from experience a fit of nerves was coming on. For a minute, she thought she might actually throw up. That truly would be atrocious: to get invited to a special audience with the Guide and then make a mess on his control-room floor.
Get a hold of yourself, Joanie Roberts. Breathe
. She was about to make a dash for it when the Guide stopped conversing with his lieutenants and sat down on a high-backed wooden chair, positioned in the center of the room next to the strange device. He raised his hands and asked for silence.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I’ve asked you here because you’re all special to me. You are Star People, ones whose souls have undergone many transmigrations, both here on Earth and on other planets. You are drawn to the etheric, because, unlike most Earth folk, you retain some knowledge of your past states, a radiance that opens you to impressions and experiences others do not share. You’re all committed to the work we’re doing, and for that I thank you from the depths of my heart. You experienced the intense energy in the crowd outside. This is a good sign. We’re at a crucial juncture in our mission. The Soviet
Sputnik
is orbiting overhead and the world has never been closer to catastrophe. It’s time to move things to the next stage. You, my dear and devoted friends, deserve
to know more about the current state of affairs with regard to research on the Mux. Most of you will already be aware of the scientific principles behind the machine, but for those who aren’t, or who have had trouble grasping it—I realize the technicalities may be daunting to anyone without a higher scientific degree—I’ll explain something about it before we proceed. As you know, it’s been my obsession for much of the last decade, and I consider it central to saving Earth from atomic destruction. My friends in the Ashtar Galactic Command agree. The principle of muxing, or multiplexing, is one familiar from the world of communications. It’s a way of combining multiple messages into a single signal, then sending it over a shared medium. That medium could be a length of wire or even the very air, in the case of wireless transmission of radio waves. Our Earth telephone systems use multiplexing, combining many calls and sending them through coaxial cables. The principle of the Mux is analogous, but the signal is of a much higher order. You can think of the Mux as an etheric transmitter-receiver system. It accepts input from many individuals and generates a signal on a different frequency for each. This results in a complex signal containing many individual messages. Why is this important? You know many of the senior members of the Command as individual personalities. Ascended masters like Merku, Voltra, Maitreya and Kuthumi manifest themselves in a way that is recognizable to us on Earth. However, their notion of individuality is very different from ours. Each Space Brother is in constant communication with all the other members of their various civilizations. This is far more than we understand by communication. It is really a kind of mind-melding, a total communion with one another and with the cosmos. Unfortunately we humans are insufficiently evolved to experience such perfect bliss. In order to have such a communion with our fellows, we need the assistance of the Mux.

“As I mentioned in the public meeting, the Command is concerned that the message of universal peace should come through a human mouthpiece, in order to cushion our less open-minded brethren from the overwhelming shock of contact. Through our researches, both here and in the laboratories of the Galactic Fleet, we’ve determined that a single person will not suffice to do the job. After all, throughout history
there have been prophets and seers, and almost without exception they’ve been ignored and even persecuted by the ruling powers. The answer is muxing. By using the Mux, a human transmitter can make himself the medium for the signals of large numbers of interplanetary entities of different densities, unifying many thousands of psychic transmissions into a single signal. It’s conceivable that using this technology, a single transmitter could become the mouthpiece for the combined will and power of entire populations, entire planets, the pinpoint confluence of all their knowledge and healing force. On Earth, it will allow a new caste of communicators to be in total union both with one another and with the Command. That is to say, as soon as the first generation of Muxes is in operation, human loneliness will come to an end, at least for those lucky enough to be part of the grid.

“So far, I have been your Guide. When we switch on the Mux, I will sacrifice my individuality and transcend to the next stage of my personal journey. I shall become the first Oracle. I’d like to say at this point that this is not an egotistical desire. Rather the opposite. When I am muxed, I will lose myself entirely in the cosmic signal. Besides, as I mentioned, it will take more than one Oracle to persuade the powerful skeptics of our benighted planet to abandon their path of destructiveness. It will take a network of Oracles, all of us bathing in each other’s minds. Imagine a global society, with members in China, Europe, darkest Africa, the jungles of Peru. Each Oracle will be plugged into a Mux, communicating etherically with the Command, and electromagnetically with all the people of Earth, using the upper atmosphere as a transmission medium, a technology outlined by the great scientist Nikola Tesla. The Mux, in short, is a stepping stone to the next level of human consciousness, a way of expediting our evolution toward total harmonic convergence with the higher will of the Creator.”

Here he paused, and took a drink of water. Joanie looked around. The expressions on the faces of his audience were all pretty much the same. Impressed didn’t begin to cover it. They were part of history, right there in the thick of it, like signing the Declaration of Independence or landing at Plymouth Rock. The Guide asked if anyone had questions. No
one was more surprised than Joanie Roberts to hear words coming out of her mouth.

“Are there risks?” she asked.

The Guide nodded. “Of course. This has never been attempted before. It’s not impossible that the human mind, even my highly expanded mind, will find it too much of a strain to perform this kind of work. My colleagues at the Command think the danger is slight, at least in my case, but it’s still there. However, personal risk isn’t really a factor. The task is too important. If I fall, someone else will take up where I left off.”

Bill Burgess spoke up from the other side of the room. “Can you tell us more about the design of the Mux? We’ve all seen the capsule, but what about the rest of it?”

“Well, most of the actual circuitry has been designed according to blueprints transmitted to me from the labs of Araltar, the Magnetician for this quadrant. The mechanism is located in a sealed wooden box housed beside the capsule. A full explanation would be too technical, but suffice to say it’s based on the violet ray and the elemental ray, focused through a crystal whose tip penetrates the sheath of the chamber in which the Oracle is secured. The violet ray is the carrier of the multiplexed etheric communications. It is directed in such a way that the elemental ray intersects with it, decoding the signal into mental vibrations of a suitable level for processing by the human mind. Transmission between earthbound Oracles is achieved through a conventional microphone, placed in the chamber, and a type of high-powered radio transmitter-receiver, which bounces the signal through the ionosphere to the other Oracles in the chain.”

“Why is it so tall?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked that. We determined that the Mux should be placed in a conical tower, so that the tip of the transmitting crystal is in a precise harmonic relationship with the dimensions of the Temple of Solomon.”

“It looks like a rocket.”

“I assure you, it’s not designed for physical travel.”

Everyone laughed. The Guide good-naturedly called for quiet.

“Tonight, I can reveal something very special. In precisely one hour we will be making the very first test of the Mux.”

There were gasps, and a burst of spontaneous applause.

“As this is just a prototype, and since there are no other Muxes to network with human Oracles elsewhere on Earth, we won’t test this aspect of the capabilities. For a short time, I will place myself in total communion with the Command and the wider cosmos. After the experiment, I anticipate having to rest for some hours or days. It’s going to be physically grueling, and I have no way of knowing how it will turn out. In order to prime the Mux, we need to charge the battery, so we can direct energy into the system. That’s the other reason I’ve brought you all here tonight.”

As he spoke, Clark Davis and Manny Vargas carried a heavy-looking wooden box into the center of the chamber and fixed it to a tall tripod. It looked like an old-fashioned camera, the sort of machine a photographer would use to take a high-school graduation picture.

“You are among the most spiritually powerful of my collaborators,” the Guide continued. “The Mux works on a mixture of electrical and etheric energy to amplify the spiritual force of the user. This battery is an etheric storage unit, designed to hold prayer energy in a fixed form. Now, Oriana will lead you in a mantra, and each of you will direct your prayers into the battery through the copper terminal on the front of the casing.”

They lined up in front of the device. Oriana took up a karate-like stance, side on, one palm held out flat a few inches from the surface. Led by Clark Davis, they all began to chant
aum mane padme hum, aum mane padme hum.…
The pace was frenetic, urgent, and Joanie was inadvertently reminded of
King Kong
or one of those other movies where the heroine got captured by natives and was about to be sacrificed to the primitive gods. Oriana intoned a line of prayer. “Blessed are the wise ones, for they walk through the darkness and ignorance of the world, spreading Light.” As she said the last word, she twisted her body and jutted out her palm, projecting an invisible force into the machine. Clark Davis went next, saying the same prayer, making the same pushing gesture. Joanie realized that most of the people in the room must have done
this before. If it hadn’t been obvious already, now it certainly was: There were inner circles within the inner circle—and she’d been found worthy of inclusion, of ascent to the next level! As she waited her turn, she took care to memorize the lines, so as not to garble them when it came time to make her prayer. Standing in front of the box, she made the correct motion and was sure she felt something, some personal energy, transferring from her to the battery. They performed the ritual three times, each person stepping up, saying the lines and pushing their prayer into the box. By the end, the chanting was going at a breakneck speed and she felt breathless, giddy.

During all this time the Guide simply sat and watched. At last he motioned for everyone to sit down. As Davis and Vargas removed the battery, he slumped down farther in his carved wooden chair. He seemed tired, and Joanie found herself wondering how old he actually was. Almost as soon as the impression of age came, it was dispelled: He reached for the headset attached to the brass machine beside him and slipped it on; immediately, his head was jerked violently backward and his body tensed as if suddenly flooded with electricity. With much pain and effort he appeared to master the flow, lowering his chin toward his chest as if encountering huge resistance. Then he began to speak. Joanie was shocked. His voice was completely different, low and raspy, coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

“Salutations! I am Esola, Master of Magnetics, 8,600th projection, 525th wave. I am standing by. Discontinue.”

Again he spasmed and jerked back his head. He spoke again, this time in a high-pitched, possibly feminine tone.

“I am Kendra, Recordkeeper of the 36th projection, 6th wave. I too am standing by. Discontinue.”

Then the Guide, in his own voice, asked the two presences for their assessment of the experiment. Esola answered first.

“According to my instrumentation, the battery is fully charged. Discontinue.”

“I have noted the transference of energy in the cosmic ledger,” added Kendra. “All is cleared for you to test the multiplex device. Discontinue.”

The Guide thanked them, exchanged cordial salutations and blessings,
then removed the headset. It appeared the Command had given the go-ahead. He stood up, took Oriana’s hand and gestured for everyone to follow him up the stairs.

Outside the night was clear and crisp. The stars overhead were bright pinpricks of light in the blue-black sky. Joanie felt cold in her skimpy Cohort outfit and wished she’d brought a sweater. Out in the desert she could see campfires, people passing back and forth in front of them like wraiths. The distinction between earth and air was hazy. She felt as if she were already in space, floating free in the cold, clear ether between the planets. Cooking smells drifted across the camp, fragments of conversation, shouts and laughter. Somewhere someone was playing a guitar. They made their way over to the Mux tower, a conical shadow almost obscured by the three large shadow fingers of the Pinnacle Rocks. Some of the men started up a generator, which sputtered into life and began a regular chug-chug growl. A run of cable led from it into the body of the Mux. Someone else brought a large lamp, like a theater spotlight, and directed it at the tower. A crowd was beginning to gather round, asking questions and trying to see what was going on. Clark Davis directed the Cohort to form a circle round the base, as Manny and some others carried the prayer battery up the tower and installed it in the capsule. Joanie peered into the darkness, trying to see if Wanda was among the onlookers. She hoped she’d had the sense to put Judy to bed. The technicians came down again, briefly conferring with Davis and the Guide. As the onlookers whispered and pointed, the Guide hugged Oriana, then grabbed the rungs of the ladder and began to ascend.