 
## Spiritus Mundi

Book II: The Romance

By Robert Sheppard

Smashwords Edition

© Copyright 2013 Robert Sheppard All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction: Names, characters, places, incidents and references herein either are solely the product of the author's imagination or are used totally fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or of the same or similar names, or to other works, business establishments events or locales is entirely coincidental and unintended.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I. Jerusalem – Gerusalemme Liberata & Orlando Furioso

CHAPTER II. London – In a Glass Darkly

CHAPTER III. Jerusalem – Great Expectations

CHAPTER IV. Qom, Iran – The Parable of the Cave

CHAPTER V. London – The Xth Day of the Crisis

CHAPTER VI. Qom – The Supreme Leader & The Three Messiahs

CHAPTER VII. London – Going for the Jugular

CHAPTER VIII. Qom – The Night Journey, Goethe & The Monkey King

CHAPTER IX. The Central Sea, The Crystal Bead Game & The Quest

CHAPTER X. The Island of Omphalos & The Mothers

CHAPTER XI. The Council of the Immortals & The Trial By Ordeal

CHAPTER XII. Nemesis

CHAPTER XIII. London – Armageddon

CHAPTER XIV. The Fever Breaks

CHAPTER XV. Washington – High Noon & Showdown at the OK Corral

CHAPTER XVI. Jerusalem – Ecce Homo

CHAPTER XVII. Middle Earth/London/Lhasa – Deliverance

CHAPTER XVIII. Moscow/Beijing – For Every Action...

CHAPTER XIX. London/Little Gidding – The Burial of the Dead

CHAPTER XX. Spiritus Mundi – (London/Jerusalem)

CHAPTER XXI. New York – In My End is My Beginning—

APPENDIX 1: Committee For A United Nations Parliamentary Assembly

APPENDIX 2: Index of Principal Characters

About the Author:

ON SPIRITUS MUNDI

"Read Robert Sheppard's sprawling, supple novel, Spiritus Mundi, an epic story of global intrigue and sexual and spiritual revelation. Compelling characters, wisdom, insight, and beautiful depictions of locations all over the world will power you through the book. You'll exit wishing the story lines would go on and on." May 13, 2012

—Robert McDowell, Editor, Writer, Marketer, Editorial Cra, The Nature of Words

"Robert Sheppard's novel, "Spiritus Mundi," has everything. "Spiritus Mundi" is Latin, meaning "spirit" or "soul of the world." According to the Norton Anthology of English Literature, the phrase refers to "the spirit or soul of the universe" with which all individual souls are connected through the "Great Memory." This amazing novel is all inclusive and unceasingly riveting. If you are interested in politics, philosophy, human relationships, sex, intrigue, betrayal, poetry and even philosophy — buy and read "Spiritus Mundi"!"November 18, 2012

—Raymond P. Keen, School Psychologist, Department of Defense Dependents Schools (DODDS)

"Robert Sheppard's new novel "Spiritus Mundi" is a new twist on a well-loved genre. Robert leaves no stone unturned in this compelling page turner you'll experience mystery, suspense, thrills, and excitement. Robert touches on sexuality and spirituality in such a way that the reader is compelled to ask themselves "what would you do if faced with these trials?" Robert is a master at taking the reader out of their own lives and into the world he created. If you're looking for a "can't put down" read pick up Spiritus Mundi!" May 20, 2012

—Nicole Breanne, Content Coordinator, Ranker.com

"Longing for a thrilling experience of the sexual and spiritual world? Expecting a thorough summoning of your inner heart? Aspiring to find an extraordinary voice to enlighten your understanding heart? Then you can't miss this extraordinary novel, Spiritus Mundi by Robert Sheppard. The author will spirit you into a exciting world filled with fantasy, myth, conflicts and wisdom from a fresh perspective. Don't hesitate, just turn to the 1st page and start out enjoying this marvellous journey."November 17, 2012

—Alina Mu Liu, Official Interpreter, Editor & Translator, HM Courts & Tribunal Service, London UK & the United Nations

"Robert Sheppard's Spiritus Mundi is a literary novel for those with an extensive vocabulary, and who believe how you tell a story is as important as what occurs in it. It is as current as today's headlines.

—Jaime Martinez-Tolentino, Writer" November 19, 2012

"Robert Sheppard's exciting new novel, Spiritus Mundi, is an unforgettable read and epic journey of high adventure and self-discovery across the scarred landscape of the modern world and into the mysteries beyond. Its compelling saga reveals the sexual and spiritual lives of struggling global protesters and idealists overcoming despair, nuclear terrorism, espionage and a threatened World War III to bring the world together from the brink of destruction with a revolutionary United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and spiritual rebirth. This modern epic is a must read and compelling vision of the future for all Citizens of the Modern World and a beacon of hope pointing us all towards a better world struggling against all odds to be born." May 19, 2012

—Lara Biyuts, Reviewer and Blogger at Goodreads.com and Revue Blanche

"Robert Sheppard's "Spiritus Mundi" is a book of major importance and depth. A must read for any thinking, compassionate human being living in these perilous times. I highly recommend this powerful testament of the current course of our so-called life on his planet. April 25, 2012

—Doug Draime Writer, Freelance

"This new novel 'Spiritus Mundi' brings together history, politics, future society, and blends with a plausible World War Three scenario. I have read it and find it over the top fascinating. I am very glad to see Robert share his creativity with the world through this work of fiction, and know it will be a huge hit." April 28, 2012

—Jim Rogers, Owner and Director, AXL

"Robert Sheppard is an exceptional thinker! His work should be read and made the subject of critical study."May 26, 2012

—Georgia Banks-Martin, Editor, New Mirage Journal

"This novel rocks the reader with its supple strength. You want to say "No, No," and you end up saying, "Maybe." Political science fiction at its highest, most memorable level."November 17, 2012

—Carl Macki, Owner, Carl Macki Social Media

"Robert Sheppard's Novel Spiritus Mundi confronts politics and philosophies of the world. He's examined multiple layers of personality in his characters; male, female, Chinese, Arab, English, and American melding them into a story of possible outcomes. How else can I convey the intelligent presentation of fiction woven with sensitivity to our world's governments, religious influences and sectarian principles? We must not forget the influence of a largely secular world. Robert tirelessly checked, rechecked and triple checked his resources in order to bring a fiction of occurrence, and psychological impact as set forth in his novel Spiritus Mundi."November 18, 2012

—Glenda Fralin, Author, Organization NWG

"Robert was one of my best guests. His novel is as wide ranging as are his interests and expertise. He can explain his various ideas with great clarity and he does this with compassion. Novel is worthwhile reading."November 18, 2012

—Dr. Robert Rose, Radio Show Host, www.blogtalkradio.com/icdrrose

When a writer calls his work a Romance, it need hardly be observed that he wishes to claim a certain latitude, both as to its fashion and material, which he would not have felt entitled to assume, had he professed to be writing a Novel. The latter form of composition is presumed to aim at a very minute fidelity, not merely to the possible, but to the probable and ordinary course of man's experience. The former—while as a work of art, it must rigidly subject itself to laws, and while it sins unpardonably so far as it may swerve aside from the truth of the human heart—has fairly a right to present that truth under circumstances, to a great extent, of the writer's own choosing or creation. If he think fit, also, he may so manage his atmospherical medium as to bring out or mellow the lights, and deepen and enrich the shadows of the picture. He will be wise, no doubt, to make a very moderate use of the privileges so stated, and especially to mingle the Marvellous, rather as a slight, delicate and evanescent flavor, than as any portion of the dish actually offered to the public. He can hardly be said, however, to have committed any literary crime, even if he disregard this caution. In the present work the author has proposed to himself—but with such success, fortunately, it is not for him to judge—to keep undeviatingly within his immunities. The point of view in which this tale comes under the Romantic definition lies in the attempt to connect a bygone time with the very present that is flitting away from us.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, Preface to

The House of the Seven Gables

# CHAPTER I.

### Jerusalem

### Gerusalemme

### Liberata & Orlando Furioso

1

Jack McKinsey arrived at Ben Gurion International Airport dragging a fine case of jet-lag along with his light luggage, emerging from the long West to East trip from New York fatigued, and it was with a queasy heaviness in his stomach and a clammy stroke of his left hand over his heavy eyes and uncombed hair that he made his way through the extensive security exiting from the El Al 747. Despite his exhausted yearning for sleep he was only able to catch a couple of intermittent hours of shuteye on the plane and his head felt heavy, his body flushed out hot under his wrinkled suit. He was visiting Jerusalem wearing two hats, one white and one black. Under his white hat he was appearing as the representative of Jung Communications, doing advance work for the final 24-hour Global Appeal Telethon for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly Campaign, which, in addition to holding a rally and video-linked broadcast from Teddy Stadium in Jerusalem, would on the same day hold parallel live video-linked 24-hour Telethons hosted and attended by the world's greatest celebrities and political leaders in London, New York, Johannesburg, Buenos Aires, Mumbai, Moscow, and Tokyo. Under his black hat, as Jack Sartorius of the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), he would be meeting with David Epstein, his counterpart katsa contact at Mossad and with Isser Diskin, his liaison with the Shabak, or the Shin Bet internal security service to compare notes on a number of cases and leads they had been mutually following, and potential threats of common interest to their common counter-terrorism operations. In the airport VIP Lounge he was greeted by David, who smiled and greeted him in a broad Brooklynese New York accent with American ease and friendliness—he had been born and raised in the City and emigrated to Israel only after graduating from high school. After his obligatory stint in the IDF, serving as a paratrooper, he had returned to the United States, doing a BA in International Relations at Harvard and then a Masters at John Hopkins, finally entering "The Institute," or Mossad, the foreign intelligence service of Israel. They made small talk and some professional chat of a light character, and discussed the latest developments in American baseball, basketball and football in the back seat of the chauffeur-driven car as they sped along the expressway, from Ben Gurion International Airport near Lod, in the Eastern suburbs of Tel Aviv, the original Israeli capital, towards the problematic city of Jerusalem, an hour or two distant—a city claimed by three great religions as the "navel of the world" and place of spiritual origin, and for sixty years the locus of internecine contention as the claimed and disputed capital of both the state of Israel, and of the latent state-to-be-born of the Palestinian people in a seeming perpetual limbo of unfulfilled childbirth and dissilient contortion, the subject of innumerable frustrated international initiatives and United Nations Security Council Resolutions fading unconsummated into the mists of contemporary history. David Epstein entertained Jack with a narrative of recent events in the capital as he pointed out places of interest along the landscape, commenting that the long ride from Ben Gurion to Jerusalem was necessary since the Jerusalem International Airport at Atarot was closed and under IDF military administration indefinitely, its location near the Palestinian headquarters of Ramallah, a site of frequent military confrontation, making its operation as a commercial airport unfeasible for the foreseeable future due to security concerns.

They met again the next morning after giving Jack a much needed night of rest and reorientation. After a buffet breakfast at the Caesar Premiere Jerusalem Hotel, headed up by a triple-cheese Western omelette, and a pot of Columbian coffee the driver ferried Jack to a nondescript building in the western suburbs of Jerusalem beyond the main government sector housing the Knesset and principal ministry buildings and their attachments, such as the stadium and the Israel Museum. There over excellent café mocha, sweets and donuts Jack, David Epstein and Isser Diskin broke open their files and began to compare notes on the intelligence and security environment in the lead-up to the big Global Appeal for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly program.

Jack shared some of the signals intercepts from suspected players in the Hamas bullpen, taking off the top one from 24 hours ago from a character named Ayman, last name unknown, apparently working out of Bahrain.

"'We'll burn them bad—Payback time!' this guy says," Jack intoned, looking up at the face of David Epstein momentarily occupied in chewing over a bite of halavah... "What could that have meant?"

"How good is the translation?" he responded.

"The NSA footnote says there is no problem on that. The intercept was clear and static-free. It is a simple statement of fact in literate Arabic, with no particular problems of nuance or interpretation." Jack answered.

"Origin and recipient?" chimed in Isser Diskin.

"The originator is this guy named Ayman, last name unknown. We've had a handle on this mutt for a couple of years. We think he is one of the mid-level operations people—a planning and liaison conduit rather than a field man or doer. He is based somewhere in Bahrain, but travels into Egypt, Israel and the occupied territories with some frequency on business. He's a little bit careful but not really professional. He only talks on his cell phone when he's in a moving vehicle or in a crowded square, street or market. He's been traced to two or three other known players, but nobody's ever gotten a fix on him. The recipient is supposedly a new guy—maybe an old guy under new cover, using a new phone and card, or a series of clones—old throwaway analogues so we can't get a clear voiceprint on him..." Jack responded, "...but put it into the wider context—cellular traffic is accelerating, E-mail is heavily encrypted, the STR rate has been up for months—It is clear there is some project underway—global in scope, immensely complicated, extremely expensive, nature unclear."

"So they most likely have some kind of operation running..." conjectured David.

"That is our take...nature, time and place unknown." Jack replied.

"So we don't know shit." sneered back Isser, scowling heavily, "What are they going to do about it?"

"At our end nothing much useful. They have put out so many alerts that nobody pays any attention to them any more—the boy who cried wolf syndrome—people just put it in the recycle bin. Nobody pays attention to loose words unless they have the details on the source, the reliability and the background. But nobody is going to release all of that for fear of burning their source." Jack opined.

"So they do nothing?" Isser snarled.

"Not exactly nothing, but you could say nothing useful. Unless they get a smoking gun they are too jaded to raise the alert level to the red end of the spectrum for fear of losing credibility if, as usually occurs, nothing happens. On the other hand they are foxy bureaucratic stagers, specializing in the art of 'CYA'—Cover Your Ass. They know if they cry wolf for the umpteenth time on an intuitive speculation and nothing happens they will lose the credibility of their followers. On the other hand if something does blow after the umpteenth false alarm, they know their asses will be grass under the shears and screamings of the blame-mongering politicians unless their qualified caveats and Cassandrasizings are on the record. So it'll go out in a verbal jumble-heap that won't lead to any action but will allow them to side-step any future ex post facto witchhunt accusation of "Intelligence Failure."—besides we just don't have the manpower to follow up on all of these leads and teases, so that is why I ferry them to you, who may be closer to the biting end of the beast and motivated to dedicate more resources to the beagling." Jack intoned.

"So they straddle the issue, and bullshit it with something they know won't work..." retorted Isser.

"...and hope for a miracle falling out of the skies." fleered back Jack.

"OK.—We'll make a note to look into it—what else do we have on the radar screen?" David chirruped, trying to nudge the tone back towards the positive side.

"Well the Take-Report out of NSA Meade and from GCHQ Bude over the past week shows that message traffic of interest to the analysts has been down by 27% from known sources and suspected players, and 37% from Hamas-related. That sort of thing makes the signals intelligence pukes nervous. In the military if the enemy suddenly goes black it is a tell-tale clue that he is up to something, and possibly is on the move in an operation calculated to attack with surprise. The majority of the time such a fluxion means nothing at all, just a random chance in operation. On the other hand it may be a marker of a stand-down prior to the commencement of real operations. It is something that gets the signal-spooks to fluttering their wings in the coop—it touches on their raison d'etre and their amour propre if nothing else."

"I stopped being superstitious a decade ago" Isser sneered.

"But in this environment only the paranoid survive..." retorted David, "we'll keep our eyes open over the next two weeks in the run-up to the UNPA Global Appeal in Teddy Stadium. We don't expect trouble but with so many leaders and celebrities anything might happen—we've got more former and sitting presidents coming in here than ex-kings in Voltaire's Candide—Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, Gorbachov, Tony Blair, Vaclav Havel, Boutros Boutros-Ghali, and the fly-through appearances by Presidents Wen Jiabao, and Medvedev, not to mention all the superstars—Isis and Osiris—and we will be one of the eight international cities with the world's eyes on us, so we need to be careful. Our leaders are hoping to use the Teddy Stadium rally to showcase Israel and Jerusalem as a Post-Intifada open, safe and reliable world-class meetings and communications center and enhance our tourism and event promotion and global presence. So we have got to be on our toes and create a good impression."

"It is all quite an endless struggle." mused Jack.

"Yes, an endless struggle. But we Israeli's are used to endless struggles. In fact the name 'Israel' etymologically is derived in Hebrew from the word 'to struggle' or 'to wrestle'—the children of Israel are destined, as our patriarch Jacob wrestled with the Angel, to wrestle with God and his messengers first, then with his enemies, and finally with ourselves—the hardest struggle of all." riposted David.

The three case officers worked through their files through the day, breaking for a light lunch of falafels and hummus and a Caesar Salad at the canteen of the government office building. At two Isser returned from the computer facility with the read-out on the Ayman connection, retrieving the file.

"We have some sporadic contacts of him with some questionable people, nothing definite." he noted, scrolling through the data. "But there is one edge of it I can't figure out. He's repeatedly linked to communications with this Baroness—the Baroness Lady Maddox—you know, the latest wife of the media supermogul, Baron Maddox. She is in and out of our area—she is in and out of everywhere—a real globetrotter! I guess it's not so surprising given their wealth and the global reach of their media business interests, but we've never been able to get a handle on her contacts on "the dark side." What have you got on her?

Jack shook his head. Then he tried to sum up the frustrating loose bundle of threads: "Nobody has a handle on the 'Dark Lady.' At MI6 they have a hands-off attitude since she is immensely wealthy, connected, technically a Member of Parliament as a Baroness sitting in the House of Lords, and close to the Prime Minister. The services have been ordered to stay clear of her. At Langley they have a thick file, but once again it is inconclusive and politically sensitive. As you say she seems to be well connected to the underworld and the espionage world across the globe, and there are innumerable records of meetings, conversations, e-mails and contacts with suspect persons. But they, she and the Baron are in the media business and are connected to everybody—movie stars, celebrities, Prime Ministers and Presidents, writers, reporters, paparazzi, ferrets, moles and detectives in all walks of life. She is constantly meeting with heads of state, movers and shakers, dissidents, denizens of a dozen underworlds as part of the flow and milieu of the global media. Nobody can make a definitive case of anything, but she keeps turning up like a bad coin in the middle of innumerable embarrassing situations. I've had a few personal run-ins with her in London and she can be a tough cookie—seductress, bitch and femme fatale. We keep an eye on her but nobody has deciphered her game for sure, and she is so connected, for most of the 'crats she is too hot to handle."

"Well, thanks for the help, gentlemen." Jack said with his innate politeness as he headed for the door.

"Likewise..." responded Isser Diskin, "...what are Friends on Friends for?"

After three Jack returned to his hotel, then took the rest of the day off to stroll around the old city and its historic sights, glad to have a little time to himself to clear his mind and recover some inner equilibrium.

2

The next day brought Jack to the hotel and office complex across the plaza from Teddy Stadium where the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly had taken out a six-month lease of an office space to serve as the administrative and media centre for the Global Appeal event. Jack entered the offices for the first time and observed on one side about a dozen administrative staff engaged in sundry office tasks distributed along partitioned work stations. On the other side were the unoccupied batteries of work stations for the incoming media crews who would arrive in the next ten days in the lead-up to the world-wide live Global Appeal Telethon. At the far end of the line of office workers was the doorway to a private office, that of the Director, or in this case to be more precise, the office of the Directors, since that role and function was shared by the two Middle-East Coordinators, Mohammad Ala Rushdie and Mustafa bin Salman al Khalifa.

Jack entered and was greeted with a warm handshake and embrace by Mohammad, and a cooler handclasp and nod by Mustafa. Jack's feelings were very mixed towards the two men. On the one hand he felt a closeness and trust towards Mohammad—after their encounter at the Sufi Enlightenment Movement Meditation Centre in London in the company of Isis, and after Mohammad's overnight stay with him in his flat at the London Ritz Hotel he had an abiding feeling of friendship, respect and affection towards the spiritual young man and wished him well. With Mustafa, however, his feelings were quite the opposite. He sensed that Mustafa was always on his guard against him and against others generally, always nervously poised and postured artificially in an acted-out role which made you guess he had something to hide, and the fact that Mustafa was on the CIA and SIS watch list heightened his unease in his presence. Mustafa had been known to have had sustained communications with several known players in the support network for known or suspected terror activists and his financial transactions showed suspicious patterns of unaccountable assembly and distribution of substantial amounts of funds disappearing into numbered and concealed accounts or unaccounted for cash transfers. Then there was the matter of his disturbing and long-standing closeness to the Baroness. None of the intelligence services had been able to pin anything definite on him as of yet, but Jack's relations with him were nonetheless strained and on pincushions on his side, and seemed mirrored in a similar parallel prickliness and distancing on Mustafa's side. At a minimum Jack found him a rather slippery and shady character, somehow always dissimulating and acting a false part, for which purpose none could decipher, and he would not be surprised if he proved a darker and more dangerous mutt than anyone had supposed. After an half-hour of chit-chat and small-talk they got down to business reviewing the endless plans and arrangements for the scripting and scheduling of the successive appearances at the 24-hour live telethon in the stadium, and the administrative tail that was inevitably attached to the televised head—all the arrangements for flight bookings, hotels, transportation, logistics and support, uplinks, Web and satellite connections, visas and security arrangements and myriad others. The trio intermittently called in several of the administrative staff specializing in each of these areas for briefings on the status and progress reports for each area of concern and mapped out action plans for the next ten days to follow-up on unresolved problems.

The next day Jack and Mustafa were picked up by Isser Diskin with a convoy of Hummers in tow for the excursion out to meet with President Abbas of the Palestinian Authority to lay down and negotiate the details of his participation in the telethon. Though the Israelis clearly would rather not have his participation at all it was clear that the Telethon had to present the image of being broad-based and inclusive and fair to the Palestinians and the Islamic world. If the Israeli's wished to prove Jerusalem internationally acceptable as a location for global events it would have to accommodate the Palestinians' interests, but the Israeli Shabak in the person of the abrasive Isser Diskin was keen to dictate the terms, conditions and limitations on any allowed Palestinian attendance and participation in the event. Jack was there to broker a reasonable compromise. En route Jack was to have a introductory tour of the possible routes of travel and communication for potential attendees between the Palestinian areas and the site of the telethon at Teddy Stadium in Jerusalem, including a look at the winding Wall and checkpoint barriers separating the archipelago of Palestinian enclaves from Jerusalem.

On the journey Isser Diskin rode in the back seat next to Jack, while Mustafa rode in the shotgun front seat beside the driver, a young overmuscled Shabak lieutenant in a crew cut. Jack found the endless series of security checks, roadblocks and checkpoints mind-numbing. He was used to contemplating Israel and Palestine on a map in the course of the events of recent history, but being on the ground he was impressed first of all by how small the total area was, yet how contorted in the grip of division and conflict. The Palestinian areas were broken up into an endless series of enclaves and checkpoints, along with the new wall that made internal communication almost impossible, let alone communication with the outside world, even to the extent of the theoretically short hop to Jerusalem, claimed ineffectively by the Palestinians as the capital of their own land, yet also by the Israelis' as the capital of their land, the two lands being geographically and psychologically the mutually exclusive reverse mirror-images of each other in a deadly dance of alterity, a macabre Alice's Looking-glass world of mutual fear and loathing. Jack became more and more depressed as they ground their way through grim checkpoint after checkpoint, the tired faces of the Palestinians bunched up in lines and queues under gunpoint to make their way to markets or offices to carry on their daily chores across the barriers. As their small convoy moved along the ridgeline above the long snaking wall he looked down at the faces of the Palestinian children looking up at them over the barbed wire atop the concrete slabs of the wall, the expressions on their young faces hardened like those of prisoners who knew themselves irredeemably excluded from entering the wider world. Mustafa after an hour withdrew to himself and took out a book to read—"A Memory for Oblivion and Selected Poems" in Arabic by Mahmoud Darwish. Jack questioned Diskin on how many Palestinians would be allowed to travel to Teddy Stadium to attend the telethon and the details of travel passes and routes to be used, and they haggled as Jack tried to eke out better terms.

The Hummers, now covered in dirt from the rusty-dry dirt roads, now moved along beside a caked-mud road flanked with sesame stalks. Jack looked out the side window and occasionally would see the face of a peasant farmer or a young boy pop up amoung the sesame stalks. After continuing for a few minutes up the slope of a ridgeline the line of Hummers suddenly came to a bumping halt and Diskin bolted out in a shot, his gun in his hand. He raced into the clutch of sesame stalks lining the bottom of a steep ravine which led up to a gap in the Wall necessitated by the deep fissure. He jogged forward through the sesame, pushing the stalks apart with his jutting paunch as he held his pistol perpendicular towards the sky. Pushing the stalks down with his free hand Jack saw cowering beneath him a sobbing peasant woman with a headscarf, an older smaller woman in a burqua, an old man and two small toddlers, their eyes wide with terror, all cringing in the underbrush.

"From what village?" demanded Diskin, pointing his gun at the woman's head.

The mother remained crouching, her eyes wet, staring at him askance, although he towered right over her, huge as a looming mountain peak.

"From Berwah?" he yelled at her, as she unrespondingly remained silent.

She made no response but continued to stare askance, just to the left of him.

He pointed his pistol at the old woman in the burqua saying "If you don't answer you'll spend the next three months in the prison.

The woman trembled convulsively, her back shaking and her eyes tearing and finally she answered "Yes, from Berwah."

"You know it is forbidden to cross past the wall—why were you trying to cross over through this ravine?" he bellowed at them.

"Forgive us, your honor" pleaded the younger woman, her eyes, though bright with fear still remarkably beautiful above her veil, "My mother's sister's farm is just on the other side of the wall. Before the wall we used to go back and forth daily to help with the harvest on each other's farms. Now we just heard that my aunt has just died and there is no one to take care of her children. We are crossing over to wash the body and fetch back the children—we meant no harm." she wept.

"Your name?" Diskin demanded as he drew aside the veil of the younger woman with the point of his pistol to reveal her strikingly sculpted, beautifully high cheekbones and broad and ample sharp-lined lips.

Jack started as the veil was drawn aside, half-shocked by the sheer beauty of the girl's face, her immense black eyes framed by the exquisite gypsied lines of her cheeks and lips appearing like some kind of Oriental vision out of some realm of forgotten memory, eyes suffused with welled but unshed tears and the palpable pathos of her helplessness.

"Darwah" she answered, "Khlorinda Sofronia Darwah, and this is my mother, Armida.

"A moving but unlikely story" Diskin retorted, "More likely you are going over to bring back contraband and these children are a convenient cover—we know your tricks—now Move!—go back to your village now or you'll go to prison. If you have any need to cross over you will apply for a pass and subject yourself to a full body search."

"But that will take weeks, we..."

"Move! I said—or the whole lot of you will rot in jail." he hollered, his face flushing red with a loss of temper, "Didn't we warn you people that anyone crossing the barrier illegally would be shot or imprisoned? How can you be so stupid? Don't you people have any brains at all? You'd think you would at least have some thought of the safety of your children if not yourselves—Now, Move! Move!" he prodded and shepherded them down the ravine at the end of his pistol.

Diskin threw his back against the seat of the Hummer and yelled to the driver to move on, muttering to himself in Hebrew "These damned stupid people—will they never listen? Will they never disappear?"

When Jack looked wincingly at Diskin, with an implied but unspoken criticism in the set of his eye Diskin responded in English: "You are new here you don't understand. You sympathize with the bleeding heart liberals and human rights people who only see pathetic melodrama in front of them and respond with cheap sympathy. It's not just their hearts have gone soft but their brains as well. They don't understand that this is a war and being nice just doesn't work—you'll end up with a knife in your back. Fear works, toughness works—you'll learn it too if you stay here long enough."

Mustafa continued unperturbed, burying his face in his book and reading selected lines of poetry out to himself in a low voice in Arabic:

"I laud the executioner, victor over a dark-eyed maiden;

Hurrah for the vanquisher of villages, hurrah for the butcher of infants."

"What?" said Jack, thinking that Mustafa had said something to him.

Mustafa looked up to him and shook his head, pointing to the book, and continued mouthing the poetry to himself in a low voice:

"We know best about those devils

Who of children prophets make"

It was past midnight by the time Jack got back to his hotel after a full afternoon of meetings with the Palestinian President's staff and then twenty minutes with President Abbas himself, during which the compromises for the terms for the ground rules for a limited Palestinian participation in the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly Global Appeal were hammered out, accepted and initialed by Diskin, Jack, Mustafa and the President's Chief of Staff. After that they shared a pleasant dinner with the President amoung some talk and pleasantries including a beautiful Sheka singer chanting Tunisian Rai music. Exhausted, he slept for the next twelve hours.

3

When Jack awoke the next day, to his surprise it was already two in the afternoon. Also, novelly and unaccustomedly Jack found himself with nothing in particular on his agenda for the day. It was marked in as a much needed day of R & R. He needed it. He even went so far as to shut off his mobile phone to pre-empt the stray imposition on his privacy, although he did occasionally "up periscope" to switch it on to check for SMS messages in case of any true emergency, followed by a quick "down periscope and Dive! Dive! Dive!" turning the damned thing off to savour his moment of private freedom.

After a buffet lunch at the hotel Jack set out to relish the delight of being as free as the wind in a new city. The distances in Jerusalem were small, and Jack took to the streets on foot to see where chance would take him. He set out without plan and "Without Baedeker" to take in this new environment, one of the oldest cities in the civilized world. His ambling soon found him in the Old City making his way through the Four Quarters upon entering the Jaffa Gate, beginning with the Armenian Quarter surrounding the St. James Cathedral. It was a surprise to Jack's expectation to find here an Armenian Quarter surviving the millennia alongside the Christian, Muslim and Jewish Quarters. He had not anticipated the obdurate staying power of historical momentum and inertia.

The Armenians had been perhaps the first kingdom to receive Christianity as its official and popular religion from the Fourth Century onward, and the practice of pilgrimage, predating the Hadjj of the Muslims was early established by the national patriarchs St. Bartholomew and St. Thaddeus and anchored in the Cathedral of St. James, constructed to facilitate such practice in 430 AD, two hundred years before Mohammad. From that early age they were survivors. In the midst of the Crusades and their eventual demise the Armenians had been largely neutral, the Crusades having been largely a Catholic affair. They thus escaped harsh reprisals from both sides at various high and low tides of fate. No amount of neutrality or pacifism could entirely shield their people from the brutality of man's historical inhumanity to man however, as the Turkish atrocities after the First World War sent a further wave of Armenian refugees into the Quarter. But even down to the present time they largely escaped the wrath and reprisals of the Arab-Israeli conflicts and maintained their modest presence alongside the more powerful antagonists.

Jack lost himself amoung the innumerable archways and claustrophobic alleyways of the Muslim Quarter, amid the chatter of Arabic voices. As he walked the narrow streets filled with an endless series of small shops he could imagine himself in one immense and giant swap market. He found it ironic that the majority of the Via Dolorosa, the path Christ took to crucifixion, was to be found not in the Christian but in the Muslim Quarter. Suddenly the clatter of Arabic voices rose to a clamor and Jack found himself caught in a stampede of male voices and flesh responding to the high-pitched call to prayer as virtually the whole male population made its way in one streaming lurch towards the Al-Aqsa Mosque at the Dome of the Rock. Afterwards Jack bargained in the Arab Souk and made some small purchases, which he had sent over to his hotel.

Meandering through the narrow streets and alleyways lined with shops Jack's eyes and ears took in everything around him. His mind felt sluggish and inert even though his senses were keyed up by the flow of stimulation. "I am a camera, with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking"—he reflected inwardly to himself as he watched his steps move forwards and onwards—"Someday, all this will have to be developed, carefully printed, fixed and somehow edited."

Meandering on he found the Jewish Quarter by contrast was more sedate and less hectic, having a more residential character. Ironically again, it was from the Jewish Quarter that there was the best view of the Muslim Dome of the Rock. Jack walked amoung the pillars and palm trees. Sitting down for a cup of tea at a small sidewalk café the proprietor told stories of the Jewish Quarter and how on Hanukkah you could walk around at night and see outside each doorstep the glass boxes containing burning candles.

The Christian Quarter was dominated by the hordes of Palestinian vendors as Jack made his way towards the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate. Jack followed the crowd and inevitably found himself at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Sanctum Sepulchrum, also known as the Church of the Resurrection, shared by the Armenians, Copts, Catholics, Protestants and Greeks according to a highly complex set of agreements between the sects going back for centuries. This site is venerated by most Christians as Golgotha, the Hill of Calvary where the New Testament attests that Jesus was crucified and also where he was buried in the reputed sepulcher. As the site of the death and resurrection of Jesus the site had been an important site of pilgrimage for all sects from the early Fourth Century. Jack felt within himself the strong tug and pull of his Christian heritage as he felt the weight of history and faith upon him as he entered the venerable Church, dating back to the Emperor Constantine. Jack knelt in prayer, kneeling down before the Aedicule of the Holy Sepulcher beneath the dome of the rotunda, the tomb of Christ, responding to an instinctive urge made familiar in his regular attendance at the Episcopalian Sunday services of his prep school in Massachusetts. Jack was respectful of his family religion, and though cultivating an educated understanding he had not questioned the roots of his faith, to which he remained a somewhat conventional yet passive adherent. The weight of the moment, however, produced an upsurge of religious feeling, and Jack shut his eyes and prayed sincerely and deeply.

Rising, Jack strayed into a group being given a guided tour by an English-speaking guide, and Jack took in the lore of the Holy Sepulcher. He moved along the stages and stations of the Passion, taking in the Stone of Unction, where reportedly Christ's body was washed by Joseph of Arimithea prior to burial, the Holy Prison, where Christ was held and flogged prior to the Crucifixion, and the Angel Stone, a remnant of the stone which reputedly blocked the tomb of Joseph of Arimithea prior to Christ's resurrection. The guide explained how evidently the site was originally the locus of a Temple of Venus, allegedly built by the emperor Hadrian over the Christian holy sites, purposely to render them lost in oblivion. The guide recited how the Emperor Constantine the Great—founder of Constantinople and the emperor responsible for the Christianization of the later Roman Empire, ordered the Christian Church to be constructed on the site, demolishing the pagan temple. According to Eusebius in his Life of Constantine, the guide related, he entrusted the work to be overseen by Helena, his mother, who reputedly excavated the burial site of Christ and the rocky outcropping on Calvary—Golgotha, or "The Skull"—the site of the Crucifixion, and set forth a double domed cathedral to enclose these holy places in a magnificent setting. Purportedly, Helena was able in her excavations to recover the True Cross on which Christ was crucified, which was subsequently lost, restored and lost again, reappearing thereafter in unending profane resurrection, however, in innumerable churches across Europe and the globe under dubious or contested claims of provenance and authenticity. The Fatimid Caliph Al-Hakim, ordered Constantine's church razed and it was completely destroyed in 1009, an act that contributed to the anger and outrage throughout Christendom leading to the original incitement of the Crusades. The Church was subsequently reconstructed by the Emperor of Constantinople and the Greek Patriarchate after Al-Hakim's son, the more tolerant Caliph Az-Zahir granted permission to the rival ruler, for which 5000 Muslim prisoners in Constantinople were released in a show of gratitude. The guide iterated the varying fates of the Church from its liberation by the Crusaders, to its subsequent loss to Saladin—the Kurdish paladin of the Muslim faith, to its control by the Sublime Porte of the Ottomans and the subsequent British Mandate, followed in turn by its current status within the modern Israel, a continuation of a "Status Quo," or negotiated power sharing arrangement dating back to the firman of the Ottomans in the 1800's, a changeless deadlock so strict that for hundreds of years a ladder, "The Immovable Ladder" on a ledge at the window of the church could never be taken down from where it was left due to the inability of the contending parties to agree to any change.

Jack retraced the Stations of the Cross ending in the site of the church at the terminus of the Via Dolorosa—the Prison, the Chapel of the Nailing of the Cross, the Rock of Golgotha, the statue of Mary at the site of the Pieta. He saw the Chapel of Adam, where the bones of Adam, the first man, are said to have been buried after his death, Golgotha said to signify where his skull was laid, the Catholicon and the Treasure Room, under the Catholic chapel, where holy relics including those of the True Cross are said to be housed.

Then Jack entered the smaller rotunda alone, under the smaller dome of the twin cathedrals, and then was moved to kneel under the center of the great dome, the compas, or point directly under the transept of the dome, reputed to be the Omphalos, or center and navel of the World, associated to the site of the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. Jack knelt and closed his eyes, trying to draw into himself the reality of Christ's suffering, death and triumphant return.

Jack again opened his eyes at the Omphalos, responding to the voice of the curate who announced that closing time had arrived and requesting everyone to move towards the exits. He rose to his feet and began to make his way beneath the grand dome, the light fading at the end of the day. Then once again he moved amoung the endless shops of the Palestinian vendors of the Christian Quarter and as the haze of night crept upon the Old City, then again through the quieter Jewish Quarter. Suddenly, his sense of smell overwhelmed him with the intoxicating wave of scent of the Night-Blooming Jasmine as he approached the Rehavia district. The overpowering and palpable fragrance of these lovely flowers made him almost drunk with pleasure, and a phrase from the Song of Songs, which he had memorized in his Episcopal Prep School days wafted into his mind:

Awake O North Wind

Come O South Wind

Blow upon my Garden

That its perfume may spread.

Jack walked long and long before he brought back to mind where or who he was.

Finding himself before the Cinematheque and seeing a Woody Allen movie on offer he bought a ticket and went in in the middle of the film, which he had seen before so he could pick up the story line. He watched the faces watching the film as much as the film itself, and took in how and when they laughed, and their laughing had a slightly oblique style different from the way Americans would have laughed at it. He noticed two girls in headscarves, one quite beautiful and the other plain, laughing in a particularly womanly and giving way. He noticed how American and many other Western women ceased or seldom had the capacity to either sing from the deeper joy in their hearts or to laugh from their hearts, their laughing ranging from mocking sniggers to chuckles to giggles of unease, but seldom being the full-hearted womanly laugh he sometimes found amoung women of other countries, perhaps more rooted in a simpler life or a more embracing culture or family environ. How seldom he heard a woman singing from the joy of being alive or laughing at a child, as he sometimes heard when he was a boy walking amoung the village women of the small town of his boarding school hanging clothes on a line or doing some such chore. He felt lost.

When the movie ended he waited a minute before getting up to avoid the crush of the crowd pushing out. He watched as the two Palestinian girls in headscarves did the same and then followed them out, hanging back a few yards to keep from being too obvious. They walked a short way and then turned into the Tzuf Bar on Hebron Road not far from the Cinematheque, and after hesitating he followed them down the steps and across a covered courtyard into a large "L" shaped room at the corner of which was a large circular bar and a stage fitted into the corner of the "L." To his surprise, the two girls did not take a seat at any table or the bar but disappeared behind the curtain of the stage. As the more beautiful of the two pulled aside the curtain to enter the backstage she glanced back at Jack a few yards behind her, revealing that she had been conscious of him following her.

To Jack there was something strangely familiar about the girl, aside from the obvious fact that she was quite beautiful and attractive to any man, and he couldn't quite put his finger on the nerve that her figure brushed upon in his memory or imagination. Jack sat down at an open seat at the circular bar where he could have a clear view of the small stage. Upon it several musicians were setting up their instruments for the next set, apparently featuring Rai music. A dark Arabic-looking musician in a jellaba and turban positioned the guellal, gaspa, a drum machine and synthesizer and sequencer. Then they began to tune up and then set into the beat of the Rai, shifting from Wahrani to Rai Rock to Rai n'B. The player in the jellaba lilted into bedoui and gharbi chants, then continued with the instruments. The music was unfamiliar to Jack, though in a way strangely familiar as well. It has the tang and energy of the Flamenco of Spain that he loved for its ecstatic moments, and there seemed something indefinable in it that was at once Arabic, French and African with a hint or spice of Jamaican reggae. He liked its energy and its tendency to push to the limits or beyond. Jack downed a couple of Rumcocos as he listened, shutting his eyes off and on to focus on the delirious flow of the sounds and music energy. When he opened his eyes again the man in the jellaba was just pulling aside the curtain to lead out a stunningly beautiful Chaba singer whom he introduced as Chaba Khlorindah. It was the same girl with the immense dark soulful eyes that Jack had followed out of the Cinematheque.

As her singing accelerated Jack found himself caught in a trance, transfixed almost hypnotically by the almost supernaturally clear tones of her voice and by the black deepness of her glittering eyes as she sang, her veil cast aside. It was the moment that she cast aside her veil on stage that jerked Jack's memory with a shock. He thought that this Chaba Khlorindah and the peasant girl that Isser Diskin had intimidated were perhaps one and the same girl. But then again how could they be? This girl was a well known cosmopolitan popular entertainer, while the other was a peasant woman from a farm. He tried to search his memory but he wasn't sure enough to know if his memory was playing tricks on him or not. In the dark of the cinema he had not noticed, but now he was puzzled. No two women could have the same hypnotic eyes. But if that were true who was she really and what was she really doing on that road? The mystery about her only heightened Jack's sense of attraction towards her. She followed with some Lovers Rai—singing with the band leader in the jellaba—"N'sel Fik"—"You are Mine," from Chaba Fadela. Then she drifted into some improvisations and free riffs and then some songs with a political edge—Khaled's "El Harba Wayn:"

Where has youth gone?

Where are the brave ones?

The rich gorge themselves;

The poor work themselves to death.

The Islamic charlatans show their true face...

You can always cry or complain

Or escape...But Where?

The singer's voice was like the quavering grief of an Andalusian guitar. Her life might be full of wretched shortcomings and sin, but it seemed that when she sang the sound confirmed without a doubt the existence of God, if only for a glimmering moment, like the moment the heart jumped when one saw a school of dolphins break the Mediterranean water's blue surface, leaping up and out of the sea. She sang with an authenticity of emotion—singing, she said what the public could not say, what they still did not know they felt.

After two of her sets and six more Rumcocos Jack was just feeling that he just might be hooked on the girl, and that he might make the psychological leap to approach her after her set when he felt a slap on his back and a slightly familiar voice: "Jack, I knew you were in town but I didn't expect to run into you here! But don't get any ideas about putting a move on this girl—she's mine!—I've got the first claim to her—you stick to Isis, you dog—I'm giving you fair warning!" He turned with a start from his alcohol-turbopowered romantic reverie and looked up into the mocking grinning face of Orlando Tasso looking down at him from the heights of his towering and muscle-bulked six-foot-six frame. Tasso was formally attached to the AISE, Italy's Agenzia Informazionie Sicurezza Estema or "Italian MI6," though he often liaised and worked on joint projects with both the British MI6 and CIA. Jack had met him at Vauxhall Cross on a couple of occasions and they had moved in the same circles in London over the past year when Jack was paying court to Isis.

Orlando was a former member of the Carabinieri who was transferred to AISE and his London assignment—first to the NATO Joint Anti-Terror Team (JATT) and then on extended loan to MI6 as much for his own protection as for his formidable skills and usefulness. He had been walking the streets of Palermo with his sister when a shoot-out had gone down right before his eyes between a team of Mafiosi hitters and a Prosecutor accompanied by his wife and daughter and a surrounding team of police bodyguards. Orlando had impulsively pulled out his Beretta and from an advantage of surprise and a position to the rear of the ambushers had dropped six of the Mafiosi, including two sons of a capo mafioso, the top Don of the leading family in Sicily, not however before they had succeeded in killing the Prosecutor. The Don vowed to take Tasso down and put out an open contract on his head. Orlando spat at the threat, but the cooler heads in the Italian government in Rome wanted to avoid an escalation of a blood feud between the Mafia and the federal police and prosecutors, and had him transferred secretly to London for long term assignment to the joint NATO counter-terror force. Orlando was known for two outstanding traits: First, he was the best shot with his Berretta pistol in the combined forces of all of NATO; Second, true to type for a hot-blooded Latin he was known as both an impulsive fighter and lover, and generally highly successful and passionate at both callings. Jack had lost two hundred pounds betting he could beat Orlando at the indoor shooting range at MI6 Headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, and he had bested him in the realm of sexual misadventures in stealing a London actress away from him at a party and taking her home, though he had never been successful in a couple of half-hearted attempts to cut in on his affair with Isis. In the small world of the intelligence community Orlando got a double-edged reputation as "The Italian James Bond" for his dalliances, inspiring admiration and a bit of envy by the commoners but a corresponding distrust from the controllerate at the top as a rogue bull in the china shop who was apt to be unreliable and to impulsively make unwanted messes that others would be stuck cleaning up. But for Jack and the other young agents this spaghetti-eater was the guy who dropped six Mafiosi, three with submachine guns while his family was alongside—nobody needed to remind them he had a couple of hard brass ones hanging between his legs.

"Orlando! You sure are a bolt out of the blue! What are you doing here? How is it going?" Jack blurted out when he had gotten hold of himself again after the start.

"Shh!" Orlando hushed him "Here the name and cover I go by is Tancredi—last name Franscheschini—I am a musician—my stage and band's name is Tancredi—we're playing over at the Underground Club. But God Jack, I am so glad to see you—I don't have anybody I know here and I am as miserable as hell." Orlando drawled out, slumping to the table and nursing the scotch he had ordered.

"So why so miserable, ...er...Tancredi?" Jack riposted, taking up the lead Orlando had offered.

"I'm in love—and she's not in love with me—so far. I didn't think it would happen to me of all people! But you've seen her and so you can understand why—there is something almost magic about her—something bewitching, I can't explain it or get a hold of it but it has got a hold on me!" Orlando groused, shaking his head over his glass, "...and can you believe it? I'm jealous—me! I never was jealous before—you knew me in London—that's not me...but I chase her around the town at night and if I see her with another man I go berserk!—It is completely insane I know it—but what can I do?" he bewailed his agony.

"Is she seeing anyone else?" Jack asked.

"She's a hot singer. She has a dozen men after her without even trying—millionaires, playboys, footballers... I slept with her once but then she cut me off. Oh my god you should see her body!—and her breasts!—Belissima!—God Jack I think I am going to have to kill myself!—and how beautiful is her face! How fine the hairs of her head! How lovely her eyes! How desirable her nose and all the radiance of her countenance...How fair are her breasts and how beautiful her whiteness! How pleasing are her arms and how perfect her hands, and how desirable all the appearance of her hands!How fair are her palms and how comely her feet, how perfect her thighs! No virgin or bride led into the marriage chamber is more beautiful than she! She is fairer than all other women! Truly, her beauty is greater than theirs. Yet together with all this grace she possesses abundant heart and wisdom and soul, so that whatever she does is perfect! She is an angel Jack! A true angel—of that I have no doubt at all. The only question for me is whether she is an angel come from heaven or an angel from hell! I really think I am going to have to kill myself, Jack! Do something to help me get out of this." he pleaded.

Jack was just trying to shift his memory back to college when he read Ovid's Remedia Amoris, but the eight or more Rumcocos were not helping this effort, and before he could collect any of his memories of it he saw Khlorindah dart out the side door accompanied by her girlfriend, and a moment later Orlando was sprinting after her—too late to intercept her before she got into a waiting black Mercedes and sped off—Orlando jogging behind calling her name—with not a taxi in sight to follow her. Jack caught up with Orlando and nursed him back into the bar, offering to pay for the next round of drinks.

After that both Jack and Orlando went into overdrive in the drinks department—chiefly Orlando however, and as usual it wasn't the alcohol but the underlying emotions he was trying to drown with it that proved so inflammable and combustible. For an hour the two moped about, nursing Khlorindah's absence and Jack tried to recall the advice of Ovid to his somewhat submerged consciousness. First Jack told him to concentrate on work and avoid thinking too much about her...maybe he should ask to have his assignment changed so he could move to another city. Orlando said he had already tried both, but that he was too miserable to work and the agency wouldn't let him leave until they could find a replacement—that might take months to years. Jack was still trying to come up with positive suggestions when Orlando downed a half-bottle of scotch and went ballistic. He started yelling and cursing Khlorindah's band leader in the jellaba and demanding that he tell him where she went and who she was with. When sober, nobody would have a chance in a physical confrontation with Orlando, but drunk and besotted he was slightly more manageable and the band leader was no slouch—the veteran of dozens of back alley confrontations with drug dealers, gangsters, pimps and raging husbands in the slums of Marseilles, Oran, Paris and half a dozen dangerous cities. Jack intervened to keep the peace, but the owner insisted on having two hefty bouncers unceremoniously show Orlando the door.

From there Jack tried to steer Orlando back to his hotel but the long-limbed Latin would have none of it and dragged Jack off on a wild-goose-chase through the clubs and back alleyways of Jerusalem after midnight. First they walked over to Barood and trawled the bar for signs of her, questioning the bartender and a musician Orlando knew to see if they had seen any sign of her. A negative response triggered another binge of drinks, gin and tonics this time and then another twenty minutes of agonized cursing followed by a duck into a taxicab at the door. Orlando then told the driver to head across town to the Bass Club. She had been seen with a Russian billionaire there two weeks ago and maybe she had gone back for more. Bass Club was known in the deep alternative music sub-culture for introducing "Electroclash" and "Deep House" into the Jerusalem scene. Jerusalem itself was not known for exciting nightlife, and perhaps in accord with its conservative and sedate roots in religion and tradition it had always been a relative backwater. Nevertheless as both a purported capital city and as an aspirant to belong to the 21st Century more modern trends had percolated and infiltrated by slow trickles. Amoung the "Spinners of Wax" little by little Club Bass was increasingly known as the locus of 'Electro-funk Hip-Hop" and the realm of the deep throb and the deep bass voice beloved by the subterranean world of Sub-woofer Junkies. The bands featured in the last three weeks included Pakotek, Marley Funk and DJ Dina. Jack and Orlando pushed their way into the dense crowd and kept their eyes out for Khlorindah. No luck. Luckily, however the throb of the deep bass was so intrusive and palpable beneath the skin that it left little possibility of conscious thought, let alone memory. After a couple Tequilas each Jack and Orlando were diverted by a couple of big-breasted American Jewish girls who seemed to be loose enough to raise hopes for bedding the night. The looseness of their blouses and the tilt of their heads revealed a lot of Yes in them. As Jack was trying to move the conversation in that direction, both for its sensual and diversionary possibilities as well as the therapeutic potential suggested by Ovids Remedia, Orlando seemed to break down into a fit of rage and delirium tremens that spoiled the mood and sent the girls running home. Finally Jack bundled Orlando, finally succumbing to the numbing effects of alcohol overdose, into a taxi and got him home to his hotel, and leaving him in the care of the two doormen, returned to his own and was happy to get off to sleep before the onset of daylight and sunrise, avoiding a prospect which usually left him depressed and mentally dulled for the next 24 hours.

The next day Jack looked up Ovid's Remedia Amoris on the Internet at Wikipedia and e-mailed and printed out a copy for Orlando. Then talking to Orlando later in the day over dinner he went over the possibilities with him, beginning with the section on how to leave your partner:

Trying to quit loving before the feeling becomes too important.

Trying to be as busy as you can, e.g. with wage labour.

Traveling and trying to avoid familiar places that remind you of your intimate relationship.

Having many affairs, or at least another affair to forget the previous one

Trying to have sex in an unpleasant way

Focusing on the unpleasant body parts/physical flaws of the partner

Trying to focus on all unfortunate things that happen because of the relationship, such as material issues

Avoiding staying by yourself

Avoiding places where you can see couples

Of these Orlando applying himself to work seemed most promising, but Orlando couldn't bring himself to buckle down. Travel was out of the question because of his assignment. Throwing himself into a series of new sexual affairs seemed promising, especially given Orlando's prior history, but Jack couldn't rouse his interest in the other girls they casually met. The last two seemed to contradict themselves—Jack was trying to help Orlando by staying with him and keeping him from sinking into himself, but it inevitably led to their going out to bars and clubs and places where they would see couples together. Jack then turned to the section on recovering one's senses after leaving your partner, though Orlando, far from leaving her was actively pursuing her day by day:

Avoiding all contact with her and with her family and relatives

When explaining why you broke up, avoiding giving details

Trying to be as silent as you can on your relationship when it's over

If you know you are going to see your ex-partner again, avoiding trying to look nice for the occasion

Forgetting about any chances in the future for the relationship to start again

Burning letters/and portraits of your partner

Avoiding threatre plays or poetries idealizing the concept of love

Convincing yourself that you don't have any rival, to avoid jealousy. According to Ovid, jealousy is one of the main reasons why people stay in love.

Avoiding stopping in front of the door of your ex partner's house, and picturing it as an awful place bringing only misfortune.

Avoiding certain kinds of food

Avoiding drinking alcohol in moderation. Instead, do not drink at all or drink abusively

Of these the only one Orlando was succeeding in was the last—drinking abusively. But in jealousy Jack thought he saw the crux of Orlando's predicament. Orlando was a passionate lover but a possessive one. And what he possessed he could tolerate none other possessing. It was more the thought of another possessing what he himself was denied that was the most agonizing torment for Orlando and made such a sexual lunatic of him.

Possibly you, dear Reader, think that Orlando Tancredi was not at all sagacious in his interpretations of Khlorindah's feelings and character, and that it was altogether unbecoming a grown man, a man of the world even, let alone a trained intelligence officer of a European nation, to fall in love with a woman so little receptive to his feelings and apparently unsuitable for him? But in so complex a thing as human nature, we must consider, it is hard to find rules without exceptions. Of course, we know that as a rule intelligence officers are so well versed in the observation and perception of human character, and of the workings of human psychology, indeed their very profession so demands such vigilance on that score, that they can hardly be imagined to fall in love with any woman not fitted to their very character and needs. But, in the errant course of human destinies, over several centuries of the classified histories of the clandestine services of great nations, one or two exceptions, one or two straying seeds not finding their way into their intended furrows, have been recorded and discovered to have, in fact, improbable though it may seem to our so experienced eyes, occurred.

Is it a weakness in a man of the highest culture and civilized sensibilities, to be wrought upon in eye and heart by the overmelting kiss of a Klimt, by the polychromatic aura of the tantalizing skin of a voluptuous nude by Titian, or by the sphinx-like mystery of a womanly smile in a masterpiece by Da Vinci? If not, then neither is it wholly a failing to be moved by the exquisite curves and lines of a face so sculpted as Khlorindah's, or the depths of her beseeching eyes, or the enchanting tremblings and vibrations of her singing and smiling lips.

And well might it be, if our judgment were but too hastily passed over into in the negative regarding Orlando's character, it would certainly do us no harm to remember oftener than we do that vices are often virtues carried to excess, and that the very capacity for strong love and passionate feeling were no completely wrong or base thing, just as Paracelsus reminds us that poison is in everything and there is no thing that is entirely without poison; it is but the dosage which makes it a poison or a medicinal remedy.

Beauty has an expression beyond and far above the love of the particular woman's soul that it clothes, as words of genius have an amplitude far beyond the whim and momentary intention of the scribbling writer—that mere earthy catalyst of a diviner spirit and alchemy—in that poem which has come to be regarded as great and read centuries after his death. It is more than the love of a single woman that moves us in the exquisite sculpted neck and delicately set collarbones, the well turned and graceful articulations of her arms and gentle hands, and in the lithe movements of the thighs and ankles of an extraordinary female figure in a divine flow of movement, Duchampesque, descending a flight of stairs towards our awaiting eyes, something more even than their momentary sexual allure—for through them flows that closer kinship with the very origin of all that we have known of tenderness and peace.

The noblest natures of the past from the ultimate zeniths of human civilization, the finest flowerings of human intelligence and sensibility, have been irrevocably drawn to this impersonal, nay sublime and divine manifestation of the eternal and ideal form conjoured forth as the deepest mirror of our soul, the outward face of the eternal feminine, and hence, like Tiresias rendered blind by the sight of the eternal goddess, men are often blinded to the character of the women they adore, or the nature of her reciprocal feelings towards himself, and likewise vice versa in the complementary inward inversion of the opposite sex. Whence, I fear, the tragedy of human life is likely to continue for a long time to come, notwithstanding the enlightenment of the philosophers, the profundity of the psychological sciences, and the flourishing of the academies, intelligence services, and other institutions of higher comprehension.

Our good Orlando, rather a man of action than of analysis, had no fine words in which to put his feelings, so deep beyond expression, for Khlorindah: he could not disguise the mystery of their conjunction with the appearance of knowledge. He called his love frankly a mystery, and knew only the sight and memory and desire and the lingering dream of her that moved so deeply within him. How could he imagine, let along believe, that his deepest feelings might not, so wholly and deeply felt in heart, mind and spirit, be reciprocated?

Certainly I could, if I held it the highest vocation of the author, represent things as they never have been and never will be. Then, of course, I might refashion life and character entirely after my own liking; I might select the most professional and rationally calculating and professionally competent and scrupulous espionage agent, and give a faithful account of his professionalism, bravery and conscientiousness to duty, and put my own excellent opinions into his mouth on all occasions, and insure that he might more faithfully uphold and inspire the tradition of heroism and professionalism, unerringly passing on the eternal baton of heroic virtue, as exemplified in the poetic epics of our common civilizational heritage. But, as it happens, on the contrary, my strongest effort is to avoid any such arbitrary picture, and true to life, to give a faithful account of the men and women and things of this world as they are, or failing such perhaps unattainable ideal, as they have mirrored themselves in my mind. This mirror is doubtless in some degree defective; the outlines will sometimes be disturbed, and the mirror's earthly flaws may at times distort or exaggerate the true likeness of things to a possible degree of human error; the reflection may at times be faint, or indistinct or confused; reflected surfaces and appearances may obscure at times deeper realities; but I feel as much bound to tell you as precisely as I can, what that reflection is, as if I were in the witness box narrating my experience on oath, avoiding all hearsay, prejudice, or reference to extraneous facts or writings not in evidence.

And in addition just think, dear Reader, how little the main characters of this novel and romance know about one another, Sartorius does not know everything about Eva or of Mohammad or of Mustafa or even his own son Jack, MI6 and the CIA only gradually are able to discover the global conspiracies directed against the fates of their nations by the laborious and time consuming method of piecing together the near infinite atomistic pieces of information gradually constituting the assemblage of the global geopolitical jigsaw puzzle in which we dwell, and our friend Tancredi is so wholly ignorant of the thoughts and feelings of his beloved Khlorindah that he gropes forward so blindly in his passion as another eyeless in Gaza before him, Whereas we know everything that has been done, spoken and thought, whether by them or by others, although we have to dissemble and act as if we too were groping along in the dark of unfolding time alongside them, and to will forward our suspension, willingly, of our disbelief to enter into their reality and walk arm in arm, heart in heart with them through their journey into their future and into our own. Surely our noblesse obliges us to extend mercy, tolerance and compassionate feeling openheartedly and openhandedly through our imaginative sojourn in the dimension of their reality, in media res, which is so interfused with the cognate tangible dimensions of our own, And greater mysteries await even us, by and by, which shall explode and baffle even our own pretended omniscience, as we are ourselves fated soon to discover, like friend Horatio, that there are things in heaven and on earth that are not contained in our vain philosophy!

5

The next day Jack met with one of the Israeli supporters of the campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, Ami Giyalon. It was a strange meeting as both were aware of the multiple identities and hats that the other wore or had worn. Giyalon in fact had been the former head of Shin Bet, (the Israeli Security Agency (ISA), or Israeli MI5) but who had broken with nationalist orthodoxy to join the Peace Now movement and several successor movements of his own founding. Jack knew that Giyalon knew of his CIA connections, as Jack knew of his Shin Bet connection. They also shared another bit of personal history in that Jack had served in the US Marines, including work attached to Navy Seal operations, while Giyalon had in his youth been decorated with the Medal of Valor as a war hero for service in the Israeli Navy and Marine commando assault units that had attacked Green Island in the war with Egypt. Now Giyalon was a voice on the Israeli left vociferous in denouncing the intransigent repression of the Palestinians by the rightist leadership. With two other former heads of Shin Bet he made a public and blunt warning that Israel was flirting with "catastrophe" in its repressive policies and urged an active embrace of a Two-State Solution in good faith rather than in the present bad faith policy, characterized, as he perceived it, by "stonewalling" both figuratively in the deliberate sabotaging of negotiations and the peace process, and literally in the walling-in and enmauerment of an entire people behind concrete, barbed wire and stone. He took part in the Mateh HaRov demonstrations demanding that Israel withdraw from Gaza and met with President Jimmy Carter in support of his efforts to advance a real two-state solution. Now Ami was assisting Jack in beating the bushes for support for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, particularly amoung the Labour Party, though it was rough going as the Israeli establishment perceived the Assembly as a potential staging area for Anti-Israel voices in the Muslim and Third World, despite their sympathy to the underlying cause of international democracy. Jack and Ami traded some small talk about tradecraft and the prospects for the Global Appeal. Then Jack asked about Ami's assessment of the situation in Palestine and Gaza and his efforts in the Peace Now and Mateh HaRov protests, and in the Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance which he had led in Israel as a new faction growing out of the old Labour Party.

Ami downed a glass of cognac and answered, leaning his head toward Jack's, "Jack I am a pessimist, but there is a core of spirituality in me that doesn't let me give up work or give up hope completely. We, on the left or on the peace side of the issue did not succeed in getting our message through to the majority of the people. The majority is silent and therefore has no influence. I will tell you why the majority is not with us in our efforts. They are not with us because we didn't manage to settle in the hearts of this true majority, the majority that makes the difference. We didn't manage to talk and perhaps we didn't even want to. We turned the settlers of Yesha into enemies and in an overbearing manner we banished them to the outskirts. We will only succeed when the grief of the evacuees will overcome the joyous cry of the evacuators. We claimed the desire for peace solely as our own. The majority sits at home and is quiet, although it wants out of Gaza the same as we do. The majority doesn't care, and shouldn't care, which person signs the accords to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In order to get out of Gaza and the occupied lands, the majority of the people must not be silent. But the majority chooses to shut its eyes and shut its hearts because thinking and feeling in any rational way is just too painful, or too terrifying. For most the solution is simply to stop thinking and to stop feeling until the next catastrophe overwhelms them."

"I see" said Jack

"So the nation became the material expression of a particular loss of innocence—not a sexual or political loss of innocence, but somehow a shared dream of what a nation might at its best prove to be—its people became, and have remained an embittered and amnesiac race, wounded but unable to connect through memory to the moment of the injury, unable to summon up in their own mirror the face of their violator. For them life goes on maimed, and never again whole."

"Is there any hope for a solution?" asked Jack.

"I headed Shin Bet for years but in the end I gave up looking for a solution in terms of military and police measures. I think the only solution is a movement in good faith, accepting considerable risk, and a spiritual healing between the communities. I focus on the mystical Hebrew concept Tikkun Olam or "healing or restoring the world" which suggests humanity's shared responsibility with the Creator to heal, repair and transform the world. Here we are told that all of our struggle is to build a Jewish state, a Jewish homeland. But that is not what we are building. A state with many Jews, or with more and more Jews in it is not a Jewish state unless it embodies an ethos of love and justice and becomes a living proof that healing and transformation is possible. Israel is not yet a Jewish state in this sense, so we will support the forces that will help it evolve in that direction. Just remember from our own Torah how the Lord spoke unto Moses and told him the stranger in your midst shall be treated as one of your own, and you will love him as you love yourselves for you yourselves were strangers in Egypt. So tell me can these words of God allow us when we have become powerful to oppress the stranger He commanded us as Jews to love? When will the Jews having themselves become the stiff knecked Pharoh to another people in distress follow their own justice to let that people go? How many plagues will it take to make them see God's reason and justice in their own case? You see Jack, it's so simple even a child could see it, but as they say, there is no one so blind as him who will not see. "Those to whom evil is done, do evil in return." it's almost a law of nature, and we Jews go around protesting that we have been done incomprehensible evil to, but we too stiff-knecked to admit, yes, we are human and we have erred and in turn done evil, under unmanageable pressure perhaps. Wouldn't God forgive us if we admitted our mistakes and tried to heal their consequences? Wouldn't God forgive us for being as human as he made us? Ah! But that would be too simple for a people like ours! Your neck stays stiff after wrestling with angels! Do we need to wait for a Biblical calamity to make peace with ourselves and the world? I tell you Jack—why am I am pessimist? I see too much of intractable human nature at its ill and ever-repeating work. We Jews have been wandering in the desert since Exodus, and even if we have made it back to Israel, we are still lost and blind to God, exactly as we were three thousand years ago, worshipping a Golden Calf in the desert. Idolatry Jack. Simple Idolatry. God has invited us into his embrace, and yet we ignore him and fall down before charlatans. What is our idol! Not even an iota of progress there even! We are still worshipping totems—only this time the idol of our sins is our own nation-state, our holier-than-thou idolization of ourselves as a people, even our Jewishness, our sense of exceptionalism as to all other peoples—instead of going naked into God's arms, heart-to-heart. We are worshipping a golden mask we have put on ourselves, which always comes down to our collective egotism. But, in all that I am not running down my own people. We are in that regard no better nor any worse than others—just human, all too human—the Christians make a false idol of their Christiandom, just as the Muslims a false idol of their historical Islam, Ulama or Caliphate, Hindus of their Hindutva, when they all should be seeking to awaken and keep alive God's universal spirit within them and around themselves, not just fetishing their ethnic or religious totems. We worship the false idol of a Jewish State, while the Catholics make an idol of a false premise: that a universal hierarchy and bureaucracy is a living order of the heart and spirit. I tell you Jack, in three, five thousand years none of us has got much farther than sublimated savagery. The world is more full of weeping than you can understand...To paraphrase Auden:

In the nightmare of the dark

All the dogs of Eurasia bark,

And the faiths and nations wait,

Each sequestered in its hate.

Intellectual disgrace

Stares from every human face,

And the seas of pity lie

Locked and frozen in each eye.

Our world hasn't come an inch from the mutual mental squalor that created the Holocaust in the first place, including us alongside all others.

I tell you Jack, to make it possible for Jewish values of love, justice, and peace to triumph inside our own society, and to open the possibility that Israelis could rediscover the deep spiritual truths of Judaism they must gather the courage to confront themselves in the harsh and sometimes bitter mirror of truth, perhaps even going beyond merely accusing themselves to even greater effort forgiving themselves alongside their enemies and joining in making mutual atonement and peace. I mean Jack, all of this is incredibly complex and difficult but it must be done if there is to be any way forward.

Although we do not support any form of nationalism as an ultimate good, we understand why, in this historical moment, the Jewish people need a state of our own. With memories of the murder and the genocide of the Holocaust of our people still fresh and the perception that we would have been far less vulnerable had we had a state and a homeland and an army—with the persistence of virulent anti-Semitism in the world today—the Jewish people cannot be asked to be the first to voluntarily eliminate the protections of the nation state. After what Jews have been through, and given the environment in which they inescapably find themselves, it is not reasonable to expect them to be the first to give up the protections of an armed state. On the other hand, we see nationalism as a perverting influence in Jewish life—and one that must be overcome.

We are committed to full and complete reconciliation between Israel and the Palestinian people within the context of social justice for the Palestinians and security for Israel. We call upon Israel to end the Occupation, to return settlers to the pre-1967 borders of Israel—providing them with decent housing—or allowing settlers to stay in the West Bank but only by renouncing Israeli citizenship and agreeing to live as law-abiding citizens of a Palestinian state subject to Palestinian laws and courts and without any recourse to Israeli courts or Israeli military intervention, and to take major (though not total) responsibility for Palestinian refugees. We oppose Israel's violations of Palestinian human rights and we insist that Israel adopt a strategy based on open-heartedness toward the Palestinians, repentance for past misdeeds, reparation, and genuine acknowledgement of the ways that some Israelis were oppressive, murderous, and oblivious to the legitimate needs of the Palestinian people. We call for an end to the teachings in Jewish and Israeli schools and media which demean or demonize the Palestinian people; instead we seek to replace those with teachings that emphasize the humanity and goodness of the Palestinian people, Arabs and Muslims. Although we affirm Israel as a Jewish state side by side with Palestine, we believe that all non-Jews in Israel, including most importantly Arab or Palestinian citizens of Israel, must have full civil rights in Israel and equal economic entitlements to any Israeli who has served in the army.

We call upon the Palestinian people to acknowledge the right of Jews to maintain their own homeland in the pre-1967 borders of the state of Israel, with Jewish control over the Jewish section of Jerusalem —including French Hill and Mt. Scopus and the Jewish Quarter of the Old City—and the Western Wall, and unimpeded access to the cemetery on the Mount of Olives. We call upon the Palestinian people to stop acts of terror against Israel and to listen and heed the growing number of Palestinian voices that are calling for a strategy of nonviolent civil disobedience. We call upon Palestinians to end all teachings in their schools and media which demean or demonize the Jewish people or Israel and to replace those with teachings that emphasize the humanity and goodness of the Jewish people.

We recognize that some Palestinians will respond by pointing out the structural violence inherent in the presence of the Israeli Occupation and the settlements. We agree with these points, but still believe that the breakthrough necessary to free Palestinians from Occupation will only come when the Israeli people feel enough safety to contemplate arrangements based on trust. Just as Israelis must demonstrate that they see Palestinians as created in the image of God and deserving of full respect, so the Palestinians must demonstrate that they see Israelis as created in the image of God and are deserving of full respect.

When I began in the political movement I was on the left—my parents had been hard communists and I continued as a socialist in the Labour Party—a socialist revolution by other means under the particular constraints of Israel's needs for survival. You could say our family though strong in our Jewish heritage regarded religion as Marx's opiate of the masses misused by the ruling classes to manipulate those subordinate into acceptance and obedience to their illegitimate rule. Later I somewhat broke with the atheist communist tradition and tried to integrate communist-socialist values into some kind of renewed spirituality, a common inter-faith spirituality that the adherents of the major religious traditions could embrace as well as those searching for spirituality out of the emptiness of modern secular society. That's how I came to be involved in promoting the Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance in Israel and Palestine that could be a common spiritual platform for Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists, even secular humanists or avowed athiests. After the fall of Communism the aspirational left has had a big hole in their idealism—somewhat filled by the Green-Environmental movement but without the revolutionary commitment. Yes, I fully support Green-Environmentalism and the efforts beyond Kyoto to save the Planet, but even more importantly we of the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance are fighting for that Inner Environmentalism, reform of the spiritual and moral "milieu interieur" that is even more important in attaining a sustainable equilibrium, peace and balance with the world and the web of life. We are all searching for a new path and I have been seeking spiritual roots for the evolution of that new Third Path, between the two materialisms of Communism and Capitalism—rooted in a common humanism and spirituality linked to a renewed harmony with nature and a responsible stewardship of humanity over the environment of the planet.

People living in the advanced industrial societies of the West want economic well-being and political rights, to be sure, and we are a long way from securing that. Yet what we've discovered is that there is an equally strong set of needs that we call spiritual or meaningfulness needs: people want their lives to have some higher meaning and purpose than simply accumulating money, power, sexual gratification, escape and fame—they want their lives to be connected to something about which they can feel has transcendent value. And they hunger for personal relationships, families and communities in which they can experience themselves as being cared for and recognized in all of their specificity and uniqueness and spiritual beauty—not only for what they can "deliver" or "do" for others, not just for how they will be "of use," but simply because they are valuable and deserving of love and caring just for who they are, as embodiments of the sacred. And many people want their ethical commitments to social justice, peace and ecological sanity to connect with achieving a life that is suffused with love, generosity, kindness, and awe, wonder & radical amazement at the grandeur and mystery of the universe and all being. Unfortunately, very few social change movements move beyond the first set of needs to actually understand and integrate into their thinking and program these spiritual or meaning needs—an example of how to do that is our Spiritual Covenant of the Peoples of the World—it is a detailed embodiment of a spiritual progressive politics, and it is integrated with the plan for a Global Marshall Plan which arose out of Al Gore's vision for an ecologically sustainable common future and integrated parts of the left-social progressive agenda and parts of the Respiritualization Movement. It will take a very different kind of movement—one founded on and giving central focus to a spiritual vision—to create a real alternative to the political Right, to the fundamentalists and militant nationalists and religionists and jihadists (religious and political), and to our modern society's ethos of selfishness, materialism, and cynicism. Without that, we find ourselves in the following very peculiar position: even when we have won electoral victories for progressive or liberal candidates, the ideology of the Right continues to shape what these people do in office, because that ideology has a coherence that is rarely matched by the various and often intellectually incoherent or at least scattered and random measures introduced by these liberal and progressive governments. The defeat of Marxist ideologies, which now frees liberals and progressives to come up with a more comprehensive and psychologically and spiritually sophisticated worldview, was made possible in part because Marxism and the various weaker versions thereof gave no attention to these "meaning" or "spiritual" needs, which along with failure to meet the minimum material aspirations of workers might be the greater Achilles Heel of communism in the longest run, even though many of their goals and values continue to have solid validity in spite of the hijacking and perversion of their revolution by the Party power seekers and apparatchiki.

Our spiritual progressive movement seeks to create that alternative. We are a global community of people from many faiths and traditions, called together by a common vision of healing and transforming our world. We include in this call both the outer transformation needed to achieve social justice, ecological sanity, and world peace, and the inner healing needed to foster loving relationships, a generous attitude toward the world and toward others unimpeded by the distortions of our egos. Our movement will encourage a habit of generosity and trust, and the ability to respond to the grandeur of creation with awe, a new harmony with nature and the ecological environment on which our sustainable future depends, and a return to a vitalized wonder and radical amazement at our human experience. Here in Israel we started as "the liberal and progressives' alternative to the voices of Jewish conservatism, reactionary nationalism, and the neo-cons," but it has become much more—a voice for a spiritual politics of meaning, and this while it maintains its strong position as one of the most widely read and respected explicitly progressive Jewish movements in the world. It is also is a global inter-faith movement that joins some of the most creative Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Hindu, Humanist and Buddhist spiritual progressives as we together think out how to apply a spiritual progressive consciousness to the realities of the contemporary 21st century world...

We used to wonder where war and genocidal hatred lived, what was it that made it so vile and whether we could ever discover a place of safety where we could run away and barricade ourselves from it. And now we realize that we know where it lives, that it lives inside ourselves...Really, Jack, our people, along with some hawkish Americans, have come to love war and killing and hate and we are more afraid of peace, perverse as it may sound than of endless hate and war. Hate is cozy. It has a safe place for you, safe in your anger and hate, whereas peace and guilt and reconciliation—that is threatening! But this is all malpractice of the heart, Jack. We prefer the Devil we know to the God that we don't know. If you bring a message of love and hope and reconciliation and reason to these people, even people on both sides, don't expect to be greeted with open arms and repentence and thankfulness like a joyful messiah and deliverer; rather expect to be reviled and hated and spat upon, maybe by both sides at once, but especially by your own people. As the scripture says: 'The light shone in the darkness, And the darkness comprehended it not.'—

—Jack, we're in a hell of a mess and it'll take a miracle to get us out of it—but though I'm a pessimist I haven't stopped believing that there is something in the human heart, something in the human spirit that makes it possible, just barely possible for such miracles to occur—who would have predicted the possibility of a Mandela and South Africa averting a biblical bloodbath after the knot they had tied themselves in—is such a miracle of reconciliation so absolutely impossible in our own case? Unlikely, yes, but we cannot say impossible, so we must keep trying."

"You don't consider the fight hopeless after so many defeats and disappointments here on all sides?"

"Like I say Jack, I'm a pessimist, which also comes in part from being a realist, but I don't give up fighting for what I think is right and necessary just because I've been knocked down a few dozen times. You see, a man does not fight merely to win—No, sometimes it is even better to know that you will be defeated, that you fight in vain—No, sometimes a man must fight not to win or get something but to be something, win or lose. But despite all that I am not entirely hopeless that we may change hearts and minds and even history in the longer term—change may be improbable—even unimaginable—but it is not impossible, and in the meantime I fight for the inner reasons as well as for the objective results." he wound up on a melancholy note, draining his rumcoco to the bottom.

"Ami, it's hard for me to say it...soldier to soldier...let's say we were both Marines and we've both been in the security services, and that's a pretty strong commitment, and that is a world where duty is something you are ready to give your life for, where you see people give their lives for every day. Don't you have some guilt over going over to the peace side, like somehow you are violating some express or implied duty somewhere?"

"Duty! Duty, God and Country! I'm sick of hearing these old chestnuts. Do your duty! That is what they tell us in the army or the church or the synagogue. "Do your duty in that state which God has called us." it reads in the prayer book.—When I was young I was a "true believer" in it. But you know, Jack, I am no longer young and I have been in government at the highest level and the bloom is off that rose. I mean, after a lifetime in the service, it seems to me "doing our duty," when the little rich boys who run the show in my government and yours say it, it means: eat, drink, claw your way to the top and take your fill, and never mind the others. You ask me how do I feel as a soldier, Jack? Most soldiers face death and have an honesty and a simplicity in the face of it—sometimes a good honesty and sometimes a horrific honesty. But what makes you want to puke is the cowardice, the duplicity, the hypocrisy and the pretense of the system as you work your way up to the core of command, the core of the political state.

I've sat with them, Jack. The schemers at the top. That's why they're at the top, because of that. I remember sitting through one insufferable cabinet meeting after another, looking into their faces, and I remembered a bit of a poem from my university days: "They See No Ghost," those words kept running through my mind. Later I tracked down the poem and memorized it:

They see no ghost,

With sparkling surface-eyes we play the ball;

It is in truth a most contagious game;

HIDING THE SKELETON, shall be its name.

Such play as this, the devil might appeal;

But here's the greatest wonder: in that we,

Enamored of an acting noght can tire,

Each other, like true hypocrites, admire.

Yes, these blank men see no ghosts, willfully hide and see not their victims and the losers of their games. They believe what they have suffered excuses all that they inflict. I believe they all, in their heart of hearts know it, Jack. Most of them, like you or me, probably had the honest moment when they were nauseated, revolted by it, yet learned to stomach it. But it is a principle that if we put down a healthy instinctive aversion to a thing, nature avenges itself by creating an unhealthy, insane attraction. You see it in the sex addicts, or even as soldiers necessarily yet unnaturally adjust to the grotesque reality of war with their black humor and transgressions, and thus these men at the top learn to thrive in the heartlessness and hypocrisy of it all, and they learn to think too much about some things and never at all about others. Most of all they learn to avert their eyes and minds from the evil which they are capable of committing, or which they have committed. Yet, like MacBeth, they cannot escape the haunting of these invisibles, masters of the grotesque arts as they may be.

Duty? Yes, I had a lifetime of duty in the service. Then, mired in the hopelessness of it all, I came upon one of those moments in life when the soul must dare to act on its own warrant, not only without an objective external law to appeal to, but in apparent defiance of "the law," the law of the state, a law now deprived of moral legitimacy. I like all of the thousands sick of the rottenness, sick of the malpractice of the heart of these unnatural ones, had no alternative but to stand against them. It's just like your father and Andreas, Jack, standing up in the civil rights or Occupy Wall Street movements, or a thousand other movements: the Orange Revolution, the Arab Spring, Bunker Hill, the Bastille, People's Power, Occupy Wall Street, Tahrir Square, Red Square, Tian An Men, Thoreau, Ghandi, King—one day I looked at the law of the state, beneficent and desirable as it may at times be, and saw that in this regard its obligation was no longer sacred, at least in the critical case. Was I ashamed of myself? Remember Jack, as a soldier I lived a life of duty, and yes I was ashamed as hell of myself at first, but not as ashamed as if I hadn't done what I did in the Peace Now and Mateh HaRov protests. After that I felt as if I was a maimed being living in a maimed world. Life has lost its perfection; it has been maimed. I felt so, so much alone in a fallen world, and it pressed on me that the complexity of things would thereafter make it impossible to fulfill all bonds, or to make my duty whole again. Yet after you do what you must, you connect again with others and open new connections of the heart with them.You know that as a soldier—even when you know that you cannot go on, you go on. And somehow something in you becomes whole again."

After a few more drinks Ami offered to stroll around the Old City and introduce Jack to some of the sights and share some of his memories. They walked through the Jewish Quarter and the Rehavia District, heavy with the scent of jasmine, and through the endless stalls of the Christian Quarter and through the Arab and Armenian Quarters, occasionally stopping for a drink, ice cream or coffee. Finally Jack bade him farewell and went back to his hotel room to lay down for a nap.

6

That evening Orlando went again to Khlorindah's door to try to find her and approach her again, having again failed to find her the night before. Because failures are much more memorable than successes, of late she was constantly in his thoughts. A person of independence, who does not need or want us, inspires our admiration, and admiration is a love potion. The more she rejected him the more he idolized her, the more desperate he became. "I hate you Khlorindah, I hate you." He would mutter under his breath, which could only mean that he loved her very much, otherwise why bother. After waiting for an hour for her he again raised a din by knocking on her door late at night, which was already early the next morning. Getting no answer he shouted up from the street, calling out her name. After another half hour he again started banging on the door. This time the door opened and an older woman, not Khlorindah but bearing a vague resemblance to her appeared.

"Khlorindah is not here Mr. Tancredi" she stated, " ...I am her mother, Armida Alcinah. She has gone to Tel Aviv and won't return until the day after tomorrow. You know Mr. Tancredi, your carrying on out on the doorstep like this really won't do...You have to stop...It's really too much... But if you insist in being here please come in and have some tea and stop disturbing all the neighbors. If you like I will give you a Tarot reading, which is my profession. Maybe it will help you. "

"I am sorry, Mother Armida" he replied, " It's just I can't do without Khlorindah, and she treats me so badly at her club, she won't see me there, so I come to look for her here. I can't give her up."

"Mr. Tancredi, sit for a while and drink some tea. The Tarot cards know everything and can solve everything if you will only follow and obey them. Let's see if they have a solution for you." she said to him as she led him into the sitting room and poured out a cup of tea and gave him a few biscuits.

"Thank you Mother" he replied, sitting down and wiping his face with his handkerchief "I would do anything for her, really, if she would only be nice to me."

"Let us see what the cards say. They know everything...Mr. Tancredi did you seek help from the Tarocci before in Italy? I was there for a few years once, reading Tarocci cards and horoscopes in Venezia. Some say Italy is the home of the Tarocci."

"I went a few times in Palermo, with my sister. She was a believer and I went to see an Astrologer with her and she read her Tarot cards for her...You've got to help me Mother" he pleaded.

She took her Tarot deck from an ebony box and unwrapped it from a scarlet velvet cloth wound around the cards, which were much larger than the size of common playing cards. She began to shuffle and divide, cut and rearrange the cards across the table covered with a green velvet cloth, turning them faced down and then turning them face up by turns, then returning them to the deck. Then she lit two red candles and burned three sticks of incense in a brass incense-burner. She sang some obscure songs under her breath as she shuffled and reshuffled the cards, seeming to take special note of each as they revealed themselves to her gaze. Orlando followed her eyes as she took in the moving cards as she spread the entire deck across the wide table in a single arc, then overturned them all in a deft stroke domino fashion, then gathered them again together, shuffling and re-cutting the deck. The forward and backward movement of the cards, the fluid rapidity of her hands and the deepness of her black limpid eyes, a feature she shared in family resemblance to Khlorindah, seemed to have a hypnotic effect on him, as did the soft flowing rapidity of her voice as she talked and talked of the cards, pointing out to him the features of each as she ritually turned them up.

"You see, Mr. Tancredi, the cards know everything and reveal everything—past, present and future...As you can see here there are two kinds in the deck—The Major Arcana and the Minor Arcana. The Minor arcana are like your common playing cards—fifty-six cards of four suits—Swords, Wands, Pentacles and Cups—that is where the Spades, Clubs, Diamonds and Hearts evolved from. Like your playing cards you have four sets of fourteen card suits...one to ten and King, Queen and Jack—but we also have a Knight in our Tarocci deck, in addition to the Jack. But now the occult mysteries of the cards come from the Major Arcana, for unlike your common playing cards we have twenty-two very special cards that reveal the fates of men and women and of loves and lives and destinies. Here you can see—these are the trump cards of life—the triumphs—carte da trionfi—you call them in Italy. You see here in my hand—The Magician, The Emperor, the Wheel of Fortune...all of life is contained within my hand...Justice, Death, The Hanged Man...The Devil, The Sun and the Moon, The Star, ...and here is all that you desire in life...The Lovers—you and Khlorindah, Justice, the World, the Tower, Strength...It is all here for you for the taking if you will only learn and obey the cards. We were both in Italy Mr. Tancredi—perhaps you have read the book, Il Castello dei destini incrociati by the master Italo Calvino. Have you read it perhaps?" she said.

"No" he replied, "I meant to read some of the highbrow stuff but I never got around to it. Life is so busy."

"Very interesting! The characters in the book are unable to speak for some reason, but tell their stories through the playing of the Tarocci cards, which only the priestess of the cards can read for them. You and Khlorindah are like this—your stories are in the cards and only the mistress of the cards can narrate them as the cards fall. In Italy I went by the name of Madame Sosostris and read out the destinies. Some say the Tarocci are Italian, but here in Palestine we say the Tarocci are our own, coming from the Mamluks in Egypt, and we say the "Turuq" comes from the Arabic word "tariq" which is the word for "The Way," like the Tao of the Chinese from their I Ching and their mystic hexagrams. But the Tarot are from no country, they are eternal, like the ancient gods."

"I didn't know" he replied.

"But here you must take the cards in your own hands. If they are to read your destiny you must give yourself to them. Here shuffle the deck...that's right, now cut and cut again, and now shuffle again. Look at the cards as they pass through your hands. Now stretch them in a row across the table. Pick one and lay it flat on the table...it will be you!" she instructed.

He did as she asked and shuffled and reshuffled and then drew forth one card, placing it before him, face down. She turned it over, paused and laughed.

"What is it?" he asked

"Ha, ha ta hah!—It is The Fool, Mr. Tancredi, it is the Fool!" she lilted out laughingly, "You see the cards do not lie, even when it hurts!"

"All right, all right" he muttered with embarrassment, "You made your point, you made your point...You don't have to rub it in."

"All right, Mr. Tancredi...are you ready then? Shuffle the cards again and then put them into my hands and I will see if I can read them to help you. But as you shuffle them you must concentrate deeply on what you desire and what you want to ask of the cards." she addressed him commandingly.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he shuffled the deck, cut it twice and handed them to her. She in turn took the cards and reshuffled them and cut them, then reshuffled and finally lay all the cards across the table in a single arc flowing from her moving hand.

"Now Mr. Tancredi, what is the question you wish to ask the cards." she uttered.

"You know the question already before I ask it, Mother. What can I do to get Khlorindah. How can I make her love me as much as I love her. Can I succeed?" he responded.

"We shall see what the cards reveal to us. Now I will lay out the five cards in the shape of a star and they will speak to us."

At the top of the star she placed the first card that Orlando had already drawn—The Fool. Then she drew and laid four more beneath it turned face downwards.

"This first card on my left will tell you what destiny you have in your love for Khlorindah. If it is favourable the cards to my right will tell you what are the impediments and how you must deal with them." she intoned with authority, turning over the leftward card slowly as he followed every movement of her hand with his expectant and anxious eyes.

"The Lovers!" she cried, expressing the joy she was certain that he felt. "...My child you are blessed with her love! You are a lucky man!...But I must warn you that all the cards have two sides, positive and negative. Surely she loves you but The Lovers can also mean that she may also love another who may be a serious impediment to your happiness. Let us turn over the next card on the right and we shall find out if you have a rival or another impediment which is blocking the destiny of your love."

Then she kept him waiting lighting more candles and adding more incense sticks to the burner. And to heighten his frustration she paused again to go for more water to add to his tea. Finally she watched his eyes as she moved her hand to the fated card and turned it over.

"The Jack of Swords!" she observed..."You have a rival who has taken your lover's heart away from you. The sword indicates that he is a fighter, a foreigner like you, a Crusader Knight. Can you think of who it might be...a Westerner like a Jack or a Knight?" she enticed him to fill in the blank in the riddle.

"Jack!" he screamed angrily, "You mean Jack has seduced her and taken her away from me? Does it mean Jack—Jack McKinsey, the man I was here with in the car yesterday? He said he was my friend! You mean he has been seeing her behind my back and lying to my face about it?—I'll kill the bastard!...what must I do?" he shouted.

"The fourth card will reveal the means." she said, placing her finger upon the card to heighten his expectation, then finally turning it face-upwards.

"Strength!" she announced as she turned the card..."You Mr. Tancredi are the stronger of the two rivals for her love. You must use your strength to drive this Jack away from her. And you have no time to lose as he may already have slept with her and stolen her heart from you! You must act quickly!" she demanded.

"If I do, what will be the outcome?" he asked.

"The answer is contained in the fifth and final card. Here let us turn it over quickly to see...'The World!'...Mr. Tancredi, the world and all within it, including Khlorindah, will be yours if you use your Strength to drive this scoundrel, this Jack of no good trades from her life!...You may depend on it!...The cards see everything and they never lie...But you should go now and find this Jack and find Khlorindah and drive him from her. They may be in bed together now and everything is up to you!...Go my son with the cards blessings and seek your destiny!"

With that she bowed to him and bid him adieu, motioning him towards the door. He thanked her profusely and impetuously hugged her, and then thanked her again. He disappeared out the door and she locked it behind him, then moved to the window and watched him get into his car and drive away, waving to him with a smile as he departed.

Three minutes later when she was sure he was gone she drew the curtains and returned to her tea. A head popped out from behind the inner curtain to the adjoining room. It was Khlorindah. She laid her head against her mother's head snickering and guffawing.

"The Fool" Armida said, as she continued shuffling and laying out the Tarot cards before her.

7

President Wen Jiabao arrived in Jerusalem the next morning, three days before the scheduled Global Appeal for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. It was his first major visit to the city and was designed to accomplish several purposes—to lend weight to China's support for a new initiative through the Security Council to push the Israeli's and Palestinians towards a negotiated settlement, to underscore the mutual respect and admiration between the two ancient civilizations, and finally, to lend visible support for the Global Appeal for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly through his appearance at Teddy Stadium as part of the worldwide 24-hour Telethon. Accordingly, three days were allotted to the visit—the first focusing on meetings prodding forward the Israeli and Palestinian officials engaged in the ongoing negotiations; the second focusing on a symbolic gesture of civilizational exchange—the delivery to the Israel Museum of Jerusalem of four of the renown Terracotta Warriors from the Tomb of Qinshihuangdi—the first Chinese Emperor who ruled China as Israel's fate passed from the Empire of Alexander to the Empire of Rome—plus an interlude for touring the museum and the holy sites of the city and meeting some of its literary and cultural notables; and finally a cameo appearance on the run at the rally at Teddy Stadium, intimating a qualified support for the general concept of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Though raised in the Communist Party's adherence to an official atheism, Premier Wen recalled his early years in Tianjin during the war against Japan and the Chinese civil war when his own family, a family of teachers, worked closely with the Christian schoolteachers and relief workers of that era. He knew the ravages of both foreign invasion and of civil war, his own home and his father's schoolhouse which they had built with their own hands having been burned and razed in those conflicts, and he sympathized with the Palestinians who suffered under Israeli occupation, and could also think back to the time of the Holocaust and founding of Israel to be aware of the tragic sufferings of the Jewish people that might have pushed them into their own excesses towards the Palestinians. Premier Wen knew from personal experience as a boy what it meant to be a homeless refugee from war, and he told himself he would do what might be within his limited powers to aid the similar fates of today's children.

The Israeli Prime Minister met him on his arrival at Ben Gurion International Airport, and the two paused for the obligatory "photo opportunity' as the four sealed crates containing the Terracotta Warriors were offloaded from the Chinese military transport plane by the Chinese military contingent accompanying the Premier's official convoy of aircraft. The cover of the first warrior was removed for benefit of the television cameras and the two heads of government were recorded for the evening news sharing the finer points of the comparative archaeology of their mutual four (or was it five?) thousand years of civilizational history. Premiere Wen explained how the four Terracotta Warriors delivered to Jerusalem were the final four of a series of twelve, two matching sets of four others having been delivered to the Metropolitan Museum in New York City and to the British Museum in London on his stops during the previous week. Then the two Premiers and the four warriors and their mutual entourages moved in a road convoy towards Jerusalem under tight security, followed by an afternoon of protracted meetings with their counterpart from the Palestinian Authority surrounded by the inevitable accompanying troops of briefcase-toting underlings and flanking secret services' security guards in signature dark glasses and earpieces.

When the long official convoy arrived in Jerusalem after the short hop from Ben Gurion airport the first stop was the Foreign Ministry building where a reception was held after a luncheon at which the heads of government of China, Israel and the Palestinian Authority were present. As ever the progress was slow and contorted, with each of the two sides making a show of their willingness to negotiate yet throwing insuperable obstacles in each other's paths according to their calculations of comparative strength outside the negotiating forum and hence their calculus of their mutual bargaining power. The Israeli side was particularly obstructive, virtually assuring a deadlock, which they considered to be in their best interest—as long as they had the superior position no news was good news in the minds of many. The Israeli premiere, raised an Ashkenazi, had attended the Yiddish theatre in his youth, and he prided himself on his skills as a "schnorrer," and a brazen sleight of hand artist in "chutzpah" in the small theater of the negotiating table and the media circus inevitably surrounding it, and complementarily on his skills as a master of "Realpolitik" based on a no holds barred calculus of raw power in the larger theater of strategic power politics. The intimates of his inner circle within his right-wing party even affectionately referred to him, with the pridefulness of black humor, rather than derision, as "Bibi, the King of the Schnorrers." In the view of his camp he held two trump cards in addition to an otherwise mixed hand. His two trump cards were first of all the backing and military hegemony secured by the military machine and resources of the United States, in turn secured by the Jewish stranglehold of money, votes, political, professional and media influence on the American political system by which Jewish influence, AIPAC and the so-called "Israel Lobby" could tip the precarious balance of power between the Republican and Democratic parties in the close elections so common in the past thirty years should either party deviate from their customary pro-Israeli orthodoxy, despite such orthodoxy often undermining American interests in the Arab world, wasting large amounts of its resources in dubious ventures such as Iraq and confrontations with Iran and the Islamic world not always in the American national or international interest, and not inconsequentially sparking such counter-hostility as that of the Al-Khaida movement; plus, the second trump card was the possession of over 200 nuclear weapons at the base in Dimona, not publically admitted but privately flaunted as a means of intimidation of their counterparts in negotiations from the Arab world. All this was in addition to the third trump card, more legitimate in the eyes of some, namely the extraordinary industry, wealth and native genius of the Jewish people, both within Israel and scattered in diaspora in America, Europe, Russia and across the world, which in the long run and in crisis could be rallied to support Israel's survival in an otherwise perilous and dangerous environment.

The Palestinian side was doomed to bargain in weakness. They realized that no amount of genius in the bargaining game could make up for the fundamental weakness of their position, and they realized the Israeli's realized it as well. But they were determined to make the best of the struggle they could, sometimes leveraging considerable outside power and influence from the oil-rich Islamic world and the Muslim community in general, and sometimes from allies such as the Europeans, whose internal politics were less subject to internal Jewish destabilization than the Americans, and who were thus more willing to act as honest brokers—in their own interests, of course, going without saying.

The Chinese were new to engagement in this quicksand environment which has resisted any serious resolution for the last sixty years, or perhaps the last six thousand. In the minds of the advisors surrounding the Premiere it was always amazing that public debate could be dominated by calls for diplomatic and military actions against Iran, even requests for Security Council actions justifying the invasion of Iraq and punitive measures against Iran not excluding unprovoked conventional or nuclear attack, for the sin of attempting to gain or even of dreaming to gain the wherewithal to have nuclear weapons in the indeterminate future, while no international action was taken against Israel who purportedly possessed several hundred and used them daily to tacitly intimidate their Arab and hostile neighbors. On the other hand, it was not comforting to Chinese, any more than to EU, Russian or Indian interests, to have any additional potential nuclear power, perhaps unstable or irresponsible and potentially breaking the existing comfy monopoly and provoking an escalation of a generalized arms race towards an unwanted tipping point, and control of such possibilities was a chronic headache to contend with. Being new to the environment of the arena and seeing the intractable problem as perhaps a visitor from Mars might perceive it, they found this inexplicable, and they tacitly believed that no solution to the problem of Muslim nuclear weapons could be realized without putting the reality of Israel's possession of nuclear weapons openly on the negotiating table as part of the equation of a viable solution regarding mutual security. But the Chinese were nevertheless also realists—of the school of Realpolitik, and saw how the American domestic political conundrum skewed these international issues, and after all hadn't China used the same "chutzpah" to acquire nuclear weapons at the same time as Israel did? Once inside the elite club it was of course in one's self-interest to preserve one's own country's arbitrarily elite position, monopoly or oligopoly, by excluding potential challengers, threats and competitors, cosmetically and quasi-ethically re-packaged for popular consumption as "Nonproliferation." As good Marxists keyed to the insidious working of international "Kapital" such conditions were not so inexplicable after all, and the Chinese saw the usefulness of adapting to the system of power that actually existed, however irrational or morally questionable it might be. In any case they tread with their own characteristic caution, that of an unelected party elite with more to lose than to gain from foreign entanglements not close to their own vital interests, albeit qualified by a latent desire to strut also with bigger steps as a newly emerging great power upon the global stage.

Once again the end result was a puppet show of posturing at negotiating a solution without the serious will or desire to do so, performing perhaps for the various domestic and international publics and audiences of importance to them, for their own vanity, or perhaps for the small residue of good will or self-respect they had left to them after a lifetime of compromises in public life. When Premiere Wen returned to his guesthouse at the end of the day he was very tired, but he comforted himself with the thought that he had after all done the best that he could with an unfavourable situation, and no worse than most others. He saw no immediate way to deliver the parties from their key contradictions: The Israeli's were inherently insecure as a small people in a hostile Muslim sea, and their sense of peril was magnified by the history of their near genocidal extermination in the last great war—hence in fear and distrust they sought security in overwhelming superior force and intimidation, with perhaps the hope that prolonged brutalization would ultimately break the opposition's will to resist and force them to acquiesce. But for the Muslims around them the Israeli quest for an unattainable absolute security could only mean the obverse intolerable condition on their own part of absolute insecurity. Neither condition could ever amount to peace unless something fundamental in the psychological and cultural conditions of the parties changed. Wen knew he did not have the missing piece of the puzzle that could bring about such fundamental change. He could not negotiate the end of fear. Fear was endless and by extension the loathing that fear continually regenerated. Until such change then there was only the muddling through and the belated consolation of an honourable try, or the protracted preparation of the ground in the hopes that by some miracle such a change might in future germinate and sprout forth.

8

Later that night, after hearing on the evening television news that Premiere Wen had retired and gone to bed early after his exhausting labours, Jack McKinsey could not rest after his day of busy preparations and settling administrative details for the Teddy Stadium rally. He longed to be with someone, but he felt it would be bad public relations to take the chance of spending the night with Isis, when the media spotlight was intense upon her arrival in Jerusalem beside Osiris, and a paparazzi exposé scandal would detract from the tenor and impact of the carefully choreographed Global Appeal. He had had lunch with her but he thought it better to wait until they were back in London and out of the media spotlight after the telethon before taking up the sexual relation again. Restless, Jack wandered the Old City late at night on foot, then after grabbing a bite to eat took himself back to the Bass Club. There once again he took a few drinks and caught the show of Khlorindah and her Rai music band.

There are various orders of beauty causing men to make fools of themselves in various styles, from the desperate to the sheepish to the serio-comic; but there is but one order of beauty which seems made to turn the heads of men involuntarily, almost with a perceptible pain in the mere beholding of such a woman, but also the heads of children, intelligent mammals and even the most conventional women with its involuntary natural force. Khlorindah's was that sort of beauty. But more remarkably still, her physical attractiveness paled and seemed even momentarily eclipsed by the shear vitality and hypnotic expressiveness of her musical fluidity when she sang so vitally. It was thus that Khlorindah evoked and held the reputation not merely of a songstress starlet, but of a Diva. And needless to say, she attracted men in excess even of her own not entirely unvain hopes and desires and not only for the right and natural, but above all for all the wrong reasons.

Once again, Jack was taken with her large soulful black eyes and the plaintive questing spirit of her Rai music. Though he had been attracted to her before he had been prevented from any meaningful contact by Orlando's intemperate intrusion and by his undertaking to maintain some minimum respect for his friend's feelings, his own interest had not been completely pre-empted. She was a puzzlement to him. There was something dark, deep, mysterious and soulful about her. On the surface she was certainly a talented singer and apparently an extraordinary and amiable person, but for Jack, accustomed to the company of Isis the extraordinary had indeed become ordinary. He would not have been attracted to her public character except for that indefinable quality of deepness and darkness and mystery about her—an almost Gypsy quality, as if she were a fateful creature from some dark and mythic nether realm, some darker angel or mystic messenger from some unknown realm of the sitra achra. He knew that he certainly would not throw up Isis for her, but somehow his mind kept coming back to the memory of her—the dark lady—to the memory of the deepness and the blackness of her eyes. Sometimes Jack thought his mind was playing tricks upon him.

Khlorinda sang her set and then went backstage to change her clothes. When she came out again she was in a fashionable low-cut dress and high-heels. She sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, her eyes catching Jack's as she crossed the room. Jack noticed that she had noticed him, and thought he would take the initiative to venture to speak to her. He instinctively looked around before doing so, perhaps gun-shy from Orlando cutting him off the last time. Then he lit a cigarette and walked over and sat down next to her.

"You are an excellent singer." Jack complimented her honestly, "...you're Palestinian aren't you...where did you learn to sing Rai music?"

"I spent some time in Oran in Tunisia when I was a little girl. My father lost his land here on the West Bank when the Israeli's took over and my family went to stay with my grandmother's family in Oran. There the Cheb and Cheba scene was just getting under way, so I picked it up from the streets. My brother used to get tapes in the street and then I would sing the songs at home, copying them from the tapes. Later I started singing in the clubs in Oran and became a Cheba." she replied, smiling back at him in a way that reassured Jack that his intrusion upon her was wanted and welcome after all.

"So you have moved around quite a bit?" he asked, as his eyes involuntarily followed her movements as she shifted her position on the chair, rocking first forward, then backward, giving him a gratuitous glimpse downwards into the open décolleté of her sequin gown, revealing the thin silk bra and ample white mounds beneath. This woman has a lot of Yes in her, he thought to himself.

"You could say so, like most of the people who were left homeless by the Israeli takeover...I spent some time in the United Nations refugee camps and learned English, then we went to Oran—my father became involved in the PLO in some of the camps around that time, and then we spent a few years living here and there—in Roma and in Marseilles and Paris. In France I got caught up in the Rai movement just when it was taking off there and getting internationalized and caught up in the new fusion and diffusion. I didn't become one of the biggest names, but I became known. After my father was killed in a shoot-out with the Israelis my mother and family drifted here and there and finally came back to the West Bank, where I earned enough money to support us. ...So...here I am."

Jack was pleased that Khlorinda seemed to say more rather than less in response to his questions, sharing her thoughts and memories and feelings more effusively than called for in an unspoken invitation to a possible intimacy. He liked it when women started undressing their minds in front of him.

"You are very good. I am working with the Telethon and Global Appeal for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly—that's two days from now on Sunday. If you like I can give you some exposure and fit you into one of the slots that may be open if possible. The broadcast goes for 24 hours straight all around the world, so there is a lot of time to play with, but also a lot of people hot to get the exposure. But if you are interested I can see if there is an opening for you. I think you'd be great. I am also a friend of Isis, so she might be able to help." Jack explained, hoping to motivate a relationship with her.

"Oh! You know Isis! Well that is really superstar level—a bit above me! But if it worked out it would be fantastic for me, really! Well two days is a short time to prepare something for a big-time broadcast like that, but if you can get a slot I would be happy to try, Mr...?" she smiled questioningly back at him.

"Oh, Jack. My name is Jack McKinsey, with Jung Communications. Here is my card and I'll write my contact number at the hotel here. We are managing the Telethon for the Global Appeal. And should I call you Khlorinda?" he asked.

"Yes, Khlorindah is my stage name and also my real name...Khlorindah Sophronia Darwah." she answered.

"Come by tomorrow afternoon and we can talk about the details" he added.

"Oh My God...not again! Don't look round and maybe he won't see us. It's that idiot...I mean your friend Tancredi. Oh God I don't need this again!...God, what did I do to deserve this?" she muttered to herself more than to Jack as she turned her face away and put up her hand to keep from being recognized.

Feeling a strong hand upon his shoulder Jack swung his head around and once again found himself looking into the enraged face of Orlando, fuming with a jealous hate that proved afresh how easy and explosive was the translation from Orlando inamorato to Orlando furioso. "So Jack! This is where I find you!...With my girl!...Didn't I warn you she was my girl?" he bellowed into Jack's face.

"I am not your girl!" shouted back Khlorindah, "...now why don't you become a human being and shut up and get out of here?...All right we slept together one time, and it was a mistake and now it is all over...can't you let me alone...haven't I told you that a thousand times?...How can you be so... Estupido!" she blurted back at him.

"And you Jack...how low can you sink?...You're supposed to be my friend and now I find you stealing my girl..."

"I am not your girl!"

"...and you didn't tell her I bet that you are two-timing Isis while you are making time to her...?"

"Shut up, Estupido!..."

"...all right Jack, if you are going to stab you friend in the back at least have the manhood to stand up and fight face to face...you want my girl, OK, let's see if you are man enough to take her from me..." said Orlando, pushing Jack against the wall.

"...Orlando! can't you grow up a little bit!...I'm not stealing your girl...I'm just booking her into the Telethon...Can't you just..."

"...Are you going to swear to me that you never had any sexual interest in her?" Tancredi demanded.

"...Of course not, Orlando..." Jack answered with a barefaced lie, but this matter of telling the truth or lying is complicated, he reacted subliminally—better to make no hasty moral judgments—if one waits long enough, the truth becomes a lie and a lie becomes the truth.

"Ha!"

"Orlando, all of this is perfectly innocent...I was just talking to Khlorindah about..."

But Jack's attempt to reason with Orlando, however, was cut short by an abrupt left jab to his jaw, which he tried to duck, but only partially successfully. He thought it was madness to fight not only a friend but a fellow agent on an assignment and did not strike back, trying to cool Orlando down. Just then however, Orlando was manhandled by three beefy bouncers from the club who drew him away from Jack. They were about to call the police when Jack and Khlorindah persuaded them just to get the raging Orlando out the door as it all was a private argument and wasn't necessary to call the police. Jack motioned to Khlorindah that she had better duck out the back with him while the bouncers had Orlando under control out front or he would probably hunt them down when they tried to leave. They jumped into Jack's car and Khlorindah told Jack where to drive to get to the house of an aunt of hers she was sure Tancredi didn't know about and where she would be safe. On the way they were apologizing to each other, each taking the blame for getting the other involved in enflaming Orlando's outrageousness. Jack was afraid Orlando would hunt him down at his hotel and stayed away until quite late. He didn't want to report him officially to control and get him into professional trouble so he gave an informal call to Joel Barlow and asked him to find somebody to take Orlando aside and talk some sense into him before things blew up to become serious. Barlow informally buttonholed the MI6 Jerusalem Station Chief Bernard Ostolf to get a handle on Orlando before he got himself into trouble. When Orlando had sobered up the next morning he got a straight and friendly talking to by his old friend Bernie Ostolf, who devised the stratagem of getting Orlando out of town for a few days to cool off. He flew off with him to a safe house covered as an expensive resort on the island of Corfu called "The Dark Side of the Moon," leaving him there with a pair of beautiful call girls arranged to divert his mind and entertain him with an ample green bottle of white powder, and he happily heard several days later that Orlando had recovered his wits and managed to overcome his obsession with Khlorindah.

9

Armida, Khlorindah's mother, though not born poor, lived poor all her adult life. Though rather repugnant to look at now, in her blossoming youth she had been considered something of a beauty and she nursed the loss of her looks. Her father had once been a prosperous merchant but lost everything with the Israeli expulsion of the Palestinians from their homeland. Her husband had also been a promising young man with a decent education from a good family, but lost everything along with any ordinary future with the diaspora, and later led a wandering and anxious existence until he was killed in the service of the PLO. Khlorindah was raised always poor and always moving, and her success as a Rai singer came as a surprise to herself as well as Armida.

It was not surprising that Armida harbored much bitterness, and that she dreamed of deliverance from her stunted existence through Khlorindah. As Khlorindah became known through her singing and as men recognized her beauty, it was also natural that she would attract many suitors and would-be lovers of every description from every class of society across the Muslim world and beyond. As it so happened one of those so besotted with her presence was a spoiled son of a billionaire Saudi family, a Prince in fact, but hardly one to cheer a girl's heart as in fairy tales. Prince Faisel was known as one of the greatest wastrels of the Saudi world in luxurious watering holes across Europe and Eurasia. He was said to personally control over one billion American dollars, and was part of an extended family distantly related to the Saudi royal family, that managed tens of billions. He had never worked a day in his life and had no intentions of starting. Being a wastrel was full time enough employment for his rather narrow ambitions. For over one year now he had paid court to Khlorindah, patronized her performances as a groupie and Stage-door Johnnie, and had called on her mother, Armida, to court her as a means of coming into possession of Khlorindah. Possession was perhaps the only thing Prince Faisel was a master of, and he was flattered and fascinated at the prospect of owning such an exquisite object as Khlorindah, wanted by so many and yet accessible to so few.

Though Khlorindah's public face was that of a renown performer, in fact she was raised and thought of herself as a conservative, traditional Muslim girl from a traditional Muslim family, and was inured to the prospect of her family, meaning practically speaking her mother, since her father was dead, choosing whom she should marry. She carried an image of her heroic father, killed in action, in her heart, just as she always carried his fading photograph in a silver locket around her neck. His absence in death only increased her idealization of him, which grew beyond all proportions. From this she derived a romantic sense of duty for both men and women that often confused and countered the individualistic ideas that often came to her from the people and culture of the entertainment world in which she found herself. She often wished to talk to him about her life's perplexities and opened the locket to speak to him, but unfortunately he had died before she had reached the age of adult or womanly consciousness, so she only had a vague inkling of what his answers to her pressing questions might have been. Growing up at her mother's side in endless wandering between dozens of Tarot and occult parlours across the Mediterranean world she inherited her mother's penchant for fatalism and mysticism, as well as her capacity for cynical opportunism, but qualified with her father's revolutionary heroism and potential for hope. Growing from girlhood towards womanhood she puzzled over the enigma of her domineering mother, and listened to the accounts and stories of her early life from her aunt Zubiah, her mother's twin sister, who gleaned them from her own observations and the endless gossip which flowed through their circles of family and acquaintances. According to Zubiah, Armida had become mentally unbalanced for a period after the loss of their family home, particularly before she met Khlorindah's father—according to Armida it was Zubiah who was mentally unbalanced. Be that as it may they both translated a long addiction to Tarot readers, fortune telling and the occult from their prosperous girlhood into a viable profession during the diaspora from the loss of their homeland.

According to Auntie Zubiah, Khlorindah learned that her mother Armida, elder by exactly thirteen minutes, was born under the sign of Leo. Self-confident, dominant, romantic, generous and vain. The first house, known as the domus vitae in her astrological chart, in the sign of the ascendant: Pisces, impressionable. The constellation of the sun in opposition to Neptune, seventh house, or Domus matrimonii uxoris, would bring confusion. Venus in opposition to Saturn, which is termed the sour planet and as everyone knows induces ailments of the liver, spleen and brain, which is dominant in Capricorn and meets its end in Leo, to which Neptune offers eels and receives the mole in return, which loves belladonna, onions, beets, which coughs lava and sours the wine, would incline her in adversity to envy, suspicion, wrathfulness and greed; that augured accidental or importune death, while the fact of being begotten as a twin gave the promise of hazardous happiness under the protection of Mercury in the house of relatives.

Forced to flee from their home by the coming of the Israeli army, Armida was only able to take with her five of her dead mother's exquisite skirts, relics from their now lost and forever irrecoverable past prosperity. According to Zubiah, after recovering from an initial depression of over a year, Armida would always be seen in various Tarot, fortune telling or occult parlours wearing these exquisite but now fading skirts, and their matching blouses, jackets and headdresses. It is not to be imagined that she had on but one skirt. No.—It is not to be imagined that Armida wore one skirt and three petticoats beneath it. No!—Armida never wore merely one skirt but always four skirts; one supported the next, and she wore the lot of them in accordance with a definite system; that is to say that the order of the skirts was changed from day to day. The one that was on top yesterday was today in second place; the second became the third. The one that was third yesterday was next to her skin today. The one that was closest to her yesterday clearly disclosed its pattern today, or rather its lack of pattern as the ornate embroidery faded with the years. All of Armida's skirts and their matching blouses and jackets favored the same dark, drab indiscript colour. It must have been becoming to her.

Armida also saved from her mother's old home a worn green-embroidered formerly-ornate velveteen lampshade which she would always insist in placing over the lightbulb hanging over her Tarot table when she conducted readings. She could never bear a bare lightbulb she often repeated. She earned her living from Tarot readings, fortune telling and other occult aides given to the impressionable young ladies of the greater Mediterranean world through which she wandered. With generous tips and presents from the grateful ones she was able to eke out a tolerable existence for herself and Khlorindah. She often remarked that she had always depended upon the kindness of strangers.

In addition to the four skirts, billowing, sagging, hanging down in folds or standing stiff and empty beside her bed, Armida possessed a fifth. It differed in no way from the ornately embroidered and drab coloured four which always adorned her body. And actually the fifth skirt was not always fifth. Like its brothers—for skirts to her were always masculine by nature and lexical reference—it was subject to change,,,,,, it was worn just like the other four, and like them when its time had come it took its turn in the wash basin every fifth Wednesday, then Thursday on the line drying by the kitchen window, and from thence when dry onto the ironing board, from whence it would yield up its immaculate presence as the top layer of four for the Friday appearance before the Mosque.

Khlorindah always made a special point of remembering all of Zubiah's stories of her mother Armida's skirts, for they were so related to the stories of her own coming into existence. Aside from the drab colour, Armida's skirts were distinguished by a lavish expanse of material. They puffed and billowed when the wind came, crackled when it passed, and sagged when it was gone, and all four of them flew out ahead of her when she had the wind in her stern. When she sat down, she gathered her skirts about her.

When Khlorindah in the dreaming inquisitiveness and curiosity of girlhood asked her mother and Zubiah about the long lost days of her father and how she had been born there were always evasions and circumlocutions, but late at night over the fire Zubiah would take her into her confidence. In the years of their forced wandering they had one year come to Beirut near the refugee camps at Shatilla. One day according to Zubiah, Armida was in the process of giving readings to four young Lebanese wives when an outbreak of shooting was heard down the street, a not uncommon occurrence. Zubiah left to put up the thick wooden shutters over the parlour windows while Armida carried on reading the Tarot cards for the four. As she put up the shutters she peered through the cracks and saw something moving between the telephone poles towards her along the street. Three men were darting from pole to pole. One man, Short and Wide was dashing along the shadows on the dark side of the street, crouching at each telephone pole. Two other men, Long and Thin were racing along fifty meters behind him on the opposite side of the street, seeming to play a children's game of hide and seek. When Short and Wide would dash from the previous telephone pole to the next, however, the other two, Long and Thin would fire their submachine guns at him. When Long and Thin in turn would jump forward to race after him, Short and Wide would fire single shots at them from an automatic pistol.

Three minutes later the door burst open, the back side of the door making an enormous crash as it slammed into the wall, drowning out the sharper sounds of the submachine gun bursts, Short and Wide silhouetted against the doorframe, his face panting and atremble. Zubiah leaped behind the long sofa on which three of the young wives sat as they clasped each other's arms, all shrieking in shock and horror, then diving behind her. Only Armida remained motionless and emotionless staring into his face.

When Zubiah again recovered herself enough to raise her eyes above the level of the back of the sofa she saw Long and Thin silhouetted against the open doorframe and Short and Wide was nowhere to be seen. Armida remained seated at the Tarot table, moving the cards about and staring at the two new intruders with a sange froid which surprised everyone present.

The two Long and Thin proved to be Israeli commandos. "Where is he?" they demanded.

"Where is who?" replied Armida.

"The man who must have come up these stairs a moment ago" they retorted—describing Short and Wide with a completeness of detail.

"No one came in here—we heard heavy footsteps running fast up the staircase—my sister opened the door to take a look but he was already gone further up—he must have gone up onto the roof. You may catch him if you hurry." replied Armida.

"Where is he?—you must have seen him!" the men repeated.

"We don't know anything about it—he must have gone past and out onto the roof." she replied, continuing to shuffle and rearrange her Tarot cards before her.

One of the Israelis ran up to the top of the staircase and the sounds of his footsteps were heard racing from one side of the roof to the other. Two minutes later he reappeared, shaking his head. The pair pointed their guns at the women, who cringed away instinctively, then flung open closets and cupboards, probing their bayonets behind curtains and through and under sofas and beds. Full of suspicion they went through every room and nook of every apartment in the building. As they thrust in their bayonets here and there they were disappointed to hear no cry. Their suspicions were heightened by every door, every laundry hamper or heap of boxes, and mostly by Armida, who sat there as if rooted to the ground, motionless except for the movement of her arms and hands manipulating the Tarot cards, or occasionally her eyes moving to follow their movements. The Israeli uniforms were seen in and out of the rooms for a good two hours. They searched again on the roof and in the other apartments, then in the streets and alleyways nearby. Occasionally Armida would look up and sigh heavily. The Israeli soldiers asked her what there was to sigh about. She replied that she was losing her income with all these interruptions, as well as all the heat from the fire which was dwindling and smoldering out on this cold and rainy day.

Short and Wide had not, however, entirely vanished. When Long and Thin were close behind him Armida had not stopped to think beyond the cards but had lifted high her skirt, no, all four skirts, high enough so that Short and Wide, could crawl underneath. At any rate he had vanished with his fright, he had ceased to be Short and Wide, but he took up room just the same, and he forgot to tremble and to shake his knees, and all beneath was as still as the first day of the Creation or the last. Armida smoothed the uppermost skirt neatly and sensibly over the second one; she scarcely felt him under her fourth skirt, and her third skirt wasn't even aware that there was anything new and unusual next to her skin. Yes, unusual it was, but the top was nicely smoothed out and the second and third layers didn't know a thing.—What else could she have done?

As the fire from the fireplace of the Tarot parlour smoldered and the fuel ran out the smoke from the slowly dying flames enveloped Armida like a spacious fifth skirt, so that she too with her four skirts, her sighs and her majestic sange froid, her grace under pressure, was under a skirt. Only when the Israeli camouflage uniforms became single indistinguishable dots at the far end of the long street along the Green Line did Armida arise, slowly and painfully, as if a tree which had been deeply rooted, then pulling herself up by the very roots from the ground to miraculously leap across a garden, the clumps of soil and fibre clinging to each tendril and tether of root as she disengaged upwards, tearing herself out of the ground.

Later, when Armida tried to recall that day, she told her sister that she believed that Khlorindah must have been conceived during those two hours. Needless to say, neither had undergone any extensive sex education. Zubaidah, however had her common sense about her and would later insist that Khlorindah must have been conceived later that night when the Israeli commandos had left the apartment but still had left posted an armed guard outside the building and Khlorindah's father had by necessity spent the night in Armida's bedroom. During the two hours under the skirts, she reasoned with her twin sister, though the father later proved the most devoted of men and lovers, neither the position of Armida nor any possible posture of the father had been such as to sufficiently increase the probability of impregnation. Nonetheless, Armida remained firm in her unswerving belief that those two hours must have been the time a new soul entered her body, and insisted that during all that time the Tarot cards continually confirmed this destiny. All that was known for sure was that the next week he had asked his PLO commander for permission to marry Armida, which was granted, and nine and one-half months later Khlorindah arrived a new soul on this earth, announcing her presence with a cry which Zubaidah insisted was uncannily musical and angelic, unlike any newborn outcry she had heard before. Thereafter Armida followed her husband from exile to exile in a plethora of locations under different covers, including the Munich operations during the Olympics, Entebbe, Egypt, Sudan, Pakistan, Afghanistan and his final death in a shootout in Gaza.

Before his death and while she was still quite young, Umar, for such proved to be Short and Wide's true name, proved himself a warm and devoted father, albeit a very absent one due to the nature of his political and militant involvements. He proved to have been a devoted Madrassa student who had memorized the Koran by heart, reputedly by some both backwards and forwards. After his marriage he constantly continued his researches in the Koran, the Hadith and the esoteric Sufi texts to prove that the circumstances of Khlorindah's birth were divinely inspired, part of a destiny or Kismet, and found repeated confirmations in the inscrutable codewords of innumerable Suras such as: Elif. Lam, Ra, Mim and so forth. He claimed to have heard the voice of the divine spirit urging him on to holy wedlock, even intimating that the child born would prove a future queen of her people. After their marriage he continued to allow Armida to wear four superimposed skirts, just as she had on that divinely fated day. He often played hide and seek with the Little Khlorindah, who had a passion for hiding under beds, in closets and clothes cupboards playing with her ragdolls, taking after her father maintained Zubiah, for the essential was for Little Khlorindah to remain hidden; in hiding she found other pleasures but the same security which Umar himself had found under Armida's skirts. And Umar had been sufficiently moved by his experience to understand his daughter's need for shelter. Shortly before his death he built her a doll's house sufficiently large for her to crawl into and surround herself with raggedy and imagined friends. Later, as she approached womanhood, she remembered only the fading hero and martyr's photograph, hard, handsome, brave and strong in his PLO uniform, headdress and mustache within the locket around her neck. She found herself attracted to the selfless, brave, idealistic, forceful and revolutionary fighters risking and giving all for the cause of her oppressed people.

Unfortunately, Armida did not know or understand her daughter's heart, though she had been inseparable from her for most of her life. Khlorindah took more after her father, who had the soul of a soldier in his bravery and in his contempt for mere wealth and social status. Armida, quite the contrary, always hoped to recover the dreams of her lost girlhood which fixated on the lost comforts of a wealthy family.

Her mother and Khlorindah wandered from place to place, paying long visits to relations on whom they might impose upon for longer or shorter periods. To Armida, raised in the wealth of her father's household before the partition, to be poor seemed a confession of failure amounting to disgrace. Only one thought consoled her, and that was the contemplation of her daughter's beauty. She studied it with a kind of passion, as though it were some weapon that she had fashioned for her vengeance. It was the last asset of their fortunes, the nucleus around which their life was to be rebuilt. She watched over it jealously, as if it were her own personal property, only leant to Khlorindah under pawn until such time as she, the mother, would redeem her pawn ticket in time for an advantageous re-vending. She followed the careers and matches of other beauties closely, pointing out to her own daughter how and when they had struck the coup d'grace that made their fortunes. To her mother's mind, only stupidity could hold Khlorindah back from a glorious match, her beauty aided now by her musical talent and renown. She nightly instructed her young pupil how beauty was only the raw material of conquest at the level of the social circles they were destined for, and that to convert it into success other arts were necessary: the cosmetic, the theatric, and the social generalship only a mother could master and bring into the field.

Khlorindah's ambitions were not as crude as her mother's. She liked to think that somehow her beauty and her talent might be a "power for good," whatever that might prove to be. Though she was wearied with the insecurity and meanness of her life, and would not have objected to a marriage which made her rich, she was both ashamed of her mother's crude passion for money and the status it would buy, and paralyzed by the thought of what she would have to pay, to bear and to sacrifice in her own life and person to satisfy her mother's passion. Lost causes still had a romantic charm for her, and she came to include in that category the cause of her own people, and finally the cause of her own self.

Resigned seemingly to a destiny beyond her control Khlorindah moved from startling incarnation to incarnation as the discovery of her inborn talent rocketed her into public recognition. She would not grow from one metamorphosis—girlhood to womanhood, anonymity to stardom—to the next carrying along with her all the old accumulated rubbish-years which we call memory, the recognizable I, but changing from phase to phase as the butterfly changes once the cocoon is cleared, carrying nothing of what was into what is but her bare and naked transformed self, leaving nothing of what is behind but eliding complete and intact and unresisting into the next avatar of the inexplicably miraculous being that she apparently was; no bones, substance or dust trailing behind the brave and skyward trajectory of her life were visible, no spoor of whatever dead pristine soulless rich surrender dogged her, or unmagicked her magic, anywhere between heaven and earth.

Thus it was, when Prince Faisel began to court Khlorindah in the nimbus of her celebrity, the respective responses of the two women were diametrically opposed. Khlorindah, her father's memory in her heart had nothing but contempt for the young wastrel, who was in his personal bearing both somewhat effeminate, flaccid, narcissistic and a physical coward. Armida, however, had eyes capable of overlooking these defects, and as Prince Faisel increasingly paid his respects at their family home, a home of which, though relatively comfortable, Armida was nonetheless continuously ashamed for its material paucity. The more Armida the mother was delighted in the prospect of Prince Faisel the future billionaire son-in-law's attention, the more and more depressed Khlorindah became in the realization that she would, come what may, remain obedient to her mother's wishes and decisions in respect of her future.

As the months dragged on and on and the Prince became a more and more regular guest in Armida and Khlorindah's home, it gradually came to be understood that sometime in the not too distant future Armida would confer Khlorindah's hand on him. Now, things had moved from the realm of vague expectations to concrete actions. Prince Faisel's counselors and minions and attorneys had already drawn up a marriage contract with an immense settlement upon Armida and Khlorindah, and after the marriage it was clear that Khlorindah need never work or perform again, and also that Prince Faisel preferred it so, yearning that he would be an exclusive audience of one for all her performative energies in future. Khlorindah could already hear the doors of the gilded cage slamming shut upon her future and upon her happiness.

Nonetheless, Khlorindah as a conservative Muslim girl could not bring herself to breaking with her mother or disobeying her decisions concerning her. Instead, she began more and more to withdraw within herself, retreating into her inner pride with a sense of tacit martyrdom. Khlorindah did not openly oppose or condemn her mother's plans, but grew more and more sullen, especially in Prince Faisel's presence alongside her insistent mother.

"Why can't you be warmer towards Faisel, Khlorindah? If you remain so cold around him now, what hope will you have for your future peace and happiness in his home?" she scolded her.

"You know he has bought me, mother. He has concluded his bargain with you and he has showed me to his friends as his prized possession. Something rare and exquisite to put into his collector's cabinet. He is rather proud of his ownership, and he thinks it will suit him, and even that he has acquired such a jewel at a price sufficiently cheap to boast again to his friends and family. God that I have lived for this, and that I must feel it so!" she cut into her mother sharply.

"What do you mean?" returned the angry mother, "Haven't you suffered from a child the poverty, the insecurity and the shame of our existence long enough? Haven't you dreamed with me of something better since we have had memory?"

"A child?—when did I ever have time to be a child?—first it was the demands of becoming a professional performer taking away any innocence or carefree time, and then your incessant grooming, exhibiting and marketing of me as a grand prize to be auctioned off to the highest bidder!" And as she spoke, she struck her hand upon her beautiful bosom, as though she would have beaten down herself. "Look at me, who has never known what it is to have an honest heart and the love of a man I admired and cherished. Mother, there is no slave in a market of old, no racehorse or racing camel at a desert fair, so shown and examined, and paraded, and pawed over, dear mother, as I have been." she bewailed.

"You might be more thankful and appreciative of the efforts I have made for securing your future. You don't even try to be nice to the men I try to introduce to you and entertain as the possible benefactors of your future life." she said acidly.

"No! Who takes me, poor chattel that I am forced to be, takes me "as is," and I shall take no effort to lure him or extract money from his purse. He sees me on auction, and he thinks well to buy me for his collection. So be it! He makes his purchase of his own will, and with his own sense of its worth and of his bargain, and of the power of his money; and I hope I will not disappoint his expectations in the future. But I will not prostitute my feelings or my soul to him."

"You talk strangely, Khlorindah, to your own mother."

"I wish I had more of a mother and less of a marketing manager." she snapped.

"You are a fool Khlorindah—you don't realize that your beauty will fade sooner than you expect, and that you must seize your chance now. Learn from my life, Khlorindah, and don't delude yourself."

"All right mother—don't go on torturing me. I have told you I will obey you and you may have your way. I am too mindful of my duty and paralyzed with the poison of your upbringing to revolt. My fate is in God, Allah's hands, and in yours, Inshallah. I do not rebel against my destiny or my duty. We have been poor so long, and may be again without all this, and I owe you my life and my obedience. Just allow me to suffer in silence, which is all the peace I will ever have." she replied in resignation.

"You curse me now, but you will thank me when you grow older and wiser, and your moment of blossoming and beauty begins, as it will, to fade." she retorted.

Some weeks following this heated exchange Armida and Khlorindah visited Prince Faisel's parents to execute the marriage contract and to begin the endless shopping and arranging for the wedding, expected in the following months. The week fled fast. There were visits to the dressmakers, the jewelers, the lawyers, the pastrycooks, the party arrangers, and all the establishments serving to furnish the future home of the couple to be.

Khlorindah looked at nothing and cared for nothing. Her rich dresses came home and were tried on, and her mother was in transports of enthusiasm. Sometimes Khlorindah went into the shops as necessary to assist her mother, but mostly she looked on the orgy of purchasing with indifference and left things to her mother. When the two mothers entered a showroom for the furnishings of the marital apartments, Armida turned and asked Khlorindah for her suggestions.

"I have nothing to suggest, mother. You may do as you please." she said coldly.

"But Khlorindah, don't be absurd. You must tell us what would make you happy." she pleaded.

"I am sure you know much better than me. You may arrange things to your own contentment." she responded.

Later, when Prince Faisel's mother showed them around the family estate and grounds, Armida reveled in every gold ornament and fixture, or in the exquisite woven carpets. But for Khlorindah, every item of luxury tore at her heart like a thorn on a rosebush, and she saw it as some hateful atom of her purchase money. She balked in front of the immense mirrors, shrinking to look at herself: in them she saw a woman of noble quality yet withdrawn involuntarily into her nature, who was too false to her better self, and too debased and lost, to save herself. She believed that all this was so plain, more or less, to all eyes, that she had no resource or power of self-assertion but in an inward pride: and with this pride, which tortured her own heart day and night, she fought her fate out inwardly, braved it, and defied it inwardly as she accepted it outwardly.

# CHAPTER II.

### London

### In a Glass Darkly

1

It was 7:15 in the morning when Eva awoke in her husband's arms. Robert was holding her the way she loved to be held; it was the best way for her to wake up, and she was astonished at what a good sleep she had had. She felt Robert's hair covered chest against her back; his sensitive hands held her breasts, his warm breath stirred the tuft of downy hair along the backside of her neck. His penis was quite hard and Eva could feel its light but insistent pulse against the base of her spine. Eva felt she was fortunate to have such a good husband, and a kind and sensitive one, and she regretted how difficult she was to live with. She pushed her lower elbow and the heel opposite into the rumpled bedclothes and moved her hips backwards towards him. It was one of the ways he loved making love to her, entering her from behind, her bottom answering in a desiring syncopation to his own forward thrusting movements. His lips nuzzled the nape of her neck and then he half bit, half kissed her pulsing jugular as he squeezed her hanging breasts. He nestled the side of his head against the back side of hers and rubbed his face into her scented hair as he moved and moved atop her. As his movements became more forceful and insistent he laced his fingers into hers and squeezed. She moaned in response to his sounds, more masculine, which he rubbed into her reddening ear. His back arched and his muscles tensed and his mind blacked out in a surge of pleasure as he released himself into her. They lay motionless for a long while. Then she turned her head backwards and kissed his closed eyes. Neither felt the need for words. Their bodies spoke for them, and then their eyes.

Despite often feeling buoyant in those early days in a sense of near idyllic dream, it would be untrue to say that Robert and Eva lived happily ever after, because ever after is long and happiness verges rather on the short side. Inevitably the complications and the contradictions and the realities of a more mundane life intruded themselves.

Sometimes he would feel stifled in her presence and would need to take a long walk alone or to get out to a pub or a film just to be on his own again. Sometimes when he felt particularly smothered he would be sharp with her, priding himself on his Yankee self-reliance. If the night was wet and cool from the London rain she would ask him if she should bring him a pullover or shut the window. A month or two back he would have been delighted, but now such attention began to chafe his sense of freedom.

"I'm perfectly all right Eva—stop fretting over me—I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself—read a book for God's sake!"

Then Eva would be taken aback and hurt, not knowing what she had done wrong, not fathoming his reaction. To her his body was her body now. She worried whether he was tired, was he hungry, did he need to sleep more, did he need a pullover to keep him warm. It was as if her body extended itself to encompass his, another body with all its needs. Because this is that way that women like her love, the way men could not seem to comprehend.

Another time she was hurt that he did not take her hand in public when they walked down the street as he did in the days of their honeymoon. Didn't a man understand—didn't a man know? Didn't they understand how important her hand in his was—what it said to the world: "this is my beloved that I walk beside—I am proud to be beside her—she is half of my soul—she is more than half of my life—her hand in mine beside me is the flag of our love." Sometimes she would pout and be moody when such lapses occurred with greater frequency.

Yes, with time Eva discovered, became aware in spite of herself, of an increasing number of Robert's deficiencies. Yet, they rubbed along. She knew that he was good and yet weak, that he was afflicted by false pride and supported by true pride, that his intellect was still very bright, yet so dismally obscured on many sides as almost to justify the whispers that made their way to her by furtive routes, saying that he was mad. She knew he was almost a saint, and yet almost a castaway through vanity and his ever-unspoken half-hatred of those moving more successfully above him. But she did not know that he knew all this of himself also. She did not comprehend that while she lovingly quashed and kept from his ears those whispers, he should be telling himself that people were calling him mad, and were so calling him with some truth. It did not occur to her that he could see her insight into him. Yet, they rubbed along.

2

Eva's Blog Journal:

I was cleaning our house when I came across Robert's manuscript for his novel that he has been working on. I began to read the most recent chapters. I immediately saw myself projected into the role of the heroine as reflecting my relationship with Robert and sensed that as the veiled intent of the heroine's relationship with the protagonist in the book. I talked about it with Robert at the dinner table. He was angry that I went peering about his papers without his permission. Such works are mirrors, he said, if a monkey peeks in, no apostle can peek out! He said he would share the book with me when he was ready but that he could not abide this kind of interruption and intrusion in his writing process—he said that it broke his concentration and that he lost all the energy of creation in discussing and arguing with other people in the middle of the writing and asked me to respect his privacy and his creative process. I cried and apologized. I only wanted a new way to be closer to him but he evidently wanted a way to be independent of me. I told him I would not do it again, and I set out to keep my word but by the next week I yielded again to temptation to read the additions to the manuscript, but then I did not dare to tell him about it. Then I was miserable with the sense of a divided self: one part secretly closer to Robert and the other part newly separated from him by my lying behavior and clandestine surveillance of his writing. Nevertheless I have the feeling through this secret knowledge that we are nonetheless united in our disunity towards one another. My thoughts return to reading Robert's book when I sleep with him and when we make love. It is a secret hold over him that it gives me to secretly know—I yield to the unbearable temptation to possess all of him. In our lovemaking I extend a third hand to caress and then possess his third eye. I make love to him, and after he sleeps I lay beside him thinking of my own covert reading of his book.

When a woman takes a piece of literature between her hands she does so with the same gesture and intention with which she inevitably takes up a mirror—to contemplate her image—first the face appears, then the body, and whatever lies beyond is invited from any ambient play of light upon her limbs from whatever may be that lies beyond the mirror's frame. I think of myself a woman reading Robert's book. I am such a woman. Her touchstone is her own wounded body, which is continuous with her wounded mind. I cut myself to pieces in my driving rage to take and further my possession of him.

3

Etienne Dearlove was back in London. He was being rotated back to home base in his work for Reuters and the BBC, taking up a position as one of the anchors of the BBC World Service, and on the black side he was due in for debriefing and a stint at Vauxhall Cross Headquarters at MI6, London. Just in from Beijing, he was scheduled for a series of meetings with Sir Endymion Needham, the head of the China Desk at Vauxhall Cross, with particular focus on the development of the "Nightingale" source, and then with "C," the top man of the whole affair.

Etienne took a month's holiday on both the black and white side of his work to be with his wife and children for a well-earned rest at his suburban home and traveling in France and at the seaside together. Then he reported in to Vauxhall Cross a week before taking up his London BBC telecaster's assignment.

Arriving back at the headquarters on the banks of the Thames Etienne settled down to some meetings and debriefings with Sir Endymion Needham, his principal controller while he was in China, and the point man for the "Nightingale" source. Nightingale had revealed the in-house discussion and planning of a redoubled anti-terror offensive being prepared on behalf of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, principally manned by the Russians and the Chinese, with extensive military mobilization and joint maneuvers planned for the next two months on each others' soil. The SCO had been the structure by which the Russians and Chinese entered into a joint condominium and military occupation of North Korea. Now their joint operations were revealed by the Nightingale discussions at the Politburo level to be intended not only to include theoretical exercises but extensive actual joint patrolling in hot trouble spots such as Xinjiang and Chechnya. Thus, recent orders had been given for the deployment of troops on each other's soil for actual operations in addition to simulated ones. Moreover, the American satellite photos seemed to reveal a mass mobilization and positioning of supplies and logistical tail beyond the needs and scope of the demonstration cooperation programme and joint maneuvers as publicly announced and acknowledged. Questioned privately about the extent of their mobilization the two countries acknowledged that they had entered into a new phase of their anti-terror cooperation—a virtual "Concert of Eurasia" in the spirit of Metternich's "Concert of Europe" designed to contain the revolutionary impulses of the nineteenth century—and they also admitted with plausible embarrassment, that they had encountered some considerable nativist resistance in North Korea that they were wary of, and hence they wished to be prepared for all eventualities.

Sir Endymion revealed to Etienne that Minister Luo Chunwang, the principal root-source of the intimate Politburo material revealed by Nightingale had placed great hopes and expectations on these joint exercises and maneuvers. He wanted to pick Etienne's brains as to Luo's underlying motives and mindset, since Etienne had access not only to the written material but had also met Luo personally on many occasions and had been on intimate terms with his top Executive Secretary. What did he make of the whole connection, the stepped up joint maneuvers and what kind of a man should he take Luo for, all in all?

Etienne ventured, speaking for his own personal understanding, that Luo was in some ways an admirable man—fluent in English, graduate of the LSE—London School of Economics, a senior insider in the Party, a "man's man" as a former special forces military officer, an intelligence professional and as a "man of the world" in multiple senses. He was, however, in Etienne's estimation a bit of a "Renaissance Man" in both the best and worst senses of that term. True, he had multiple talents and a high degree of intelligence, including a sense of realism. But equally true he was a "Renaissance Man" in the Machiavellian sense of that term—a cold calculator of self-interest and a ruthless worshipper, even artist—of raw power. In a sense he was ambitious in the extreme and contemptuous of those who had less stomach for risk and less drive for power—you might even say he was a kind of sociopath or even predator—political and sexual—missing some component of common conscience or heart—in short, a dangerous man and a potentially dangerous enemy—all this behind the façade, of course, of Politburo and Chinese convention and conformity.

Etienne's day began extra-early the next day, Tuesday, with his BBC duties calling on him to interview Farik Yusuf, the young and puritan fundamentalist aircraft food services technician from Tower Hamlets, East London who had recently confessed to involvement in the American Olympic Team Bombings in London. The interview was to take place at Yusuf's own request in his detention cell in London. Etienne would be paired with Jack McKinsey for the Americans for the joint interview, who had flown in for the day from Jerusalem for the event. MI5 had acceded to Yusuf's desire, hoping to gain additional information and trusting in the covered identities of the pair of interviewers to guard any necessary confidentiality. In the course of the morning Yusuf confessed on video camera that he had planted the explosive device on the American charter aircraft when it was assigned to his care for replenishment of its food supplies at Heathrow. Investigation revealed that Yusuf was a committed Islamist who had aided many Islamicist political organizations in his younger student years such as the Muslim Brotherhood, the Jamat-e-Islami, the Islamic Forum of Europe and the Hisb ut-Tahrir, coming to believe more and more in the necessity of direct and offensive political and militant action against the enemies of Islam, the enemies of God, Allah. After reading Qutb's book, Milestones, he was primed for further radicalization and joined a "direct action" cell which made common cause with al-Qaida, Hamas and Hezbollah. He admitted that he had worked in an activist martyr's cell for several organizations but that he only knew the current leader of the cell by the codename "Milady," from whom he would occasionally receive encrypted instructions, money, equipment and supplies by dead drops without ever having met face to face. His last order from "Milady" instructed him to pick up an explosive device and install it in the onboard food locker of the Boeing 747 chartered to ferry the American Track and Field Olympic team. As a certified employee and food services intern at the airport he was the only one deemed to have a strong chance of evading the security screen. He had confessed to the bombing after a failed suicide attempt and a convulsive repentence. He had picked up the explosive device from a public locker to which he had received the key at a dead-drop and then smuggled it disassembled into the facility where he worked, reassembling it in the hanger. Etienne probed his motives and details of contacts with others. Evidently he was angered by the filth, impurity and corruption of the decadent and godless modern hedonist and materialistic world that threatened to take his God and purity away, and wanted to die, but for a final worthy cause in a purifying martyrdom. He had lost any sense of hope and only sought meaning in this final act of war, jihad as armed struggle against an unclean and spiritually diseased world—he only wanted the world to appreciate his reasons. Pressed on details of his comrades, Yusuf either admitted that he only knew codenames without identities or refused to give any information whatsoever. Many months later, after the enormity of the suffering he had caused sank in and he became tortured and disgusted with his own impurity and corruption, he had attempted suicide, and on its failure was further impelled to a full confession and repentence, calling on God Allah, the Compassionate and the Merciful to embrace his reformed heart.

4

Mohammad ala Rushdie too was back in London for three days of consultation and coordination with the Global Headquarters to dovetail the preparations for the Jerusalem telethon with those for the global telethon for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly campaign. He awoke early that morning and rolled out his mat for morning prayer. He did not take prayer for granted. He did not regard it, as he felt most of his fellow Muslims did, as a social ritual to be performed, or even as a duty. He was more inclined to meditative prayer and was favourably impressed by his visits to Christian churches where prayer seemed to go deeper than the social ritual he often experienced in the mosques. He knew that prayer wasn't the same as thinking, nor was it an escape from thinking. It was never as simple as a mere asking for something—a divine favour. Instead it was a seeking of instruction—a potentially radical reorienting of oneself—an expression of a spoken or unspoken yearning of the heart's deepest desire—to attain a union with something sublime and all powerful beyond oneself—a yearning for a state of grace, a state of potential perfection—a negotiation of the first terms of an eventual union or reunion with God in mystical ecstasy. He finished his prayer and watched the sun rise, then showered and went into the city.

Since he had been in Jerusalem for many weeks heading up the program with Jack and Mustafa he had come to miss his old friends at the Sufi Zikr at the Mida Vale Meditation Centre, and so stopped by while he was in town. All went as expected until the end of the Zikr when his Pir called him to his office and handed him a letter posted from Cairo two months before. The letter was from Khlorinda Sofronia Darwah, with whom he had developed a brief friendship when she had a Rai music singing gig in West London for a couple of months earlier in the year. She, being homesick, visited the Mida Vale Meditation Centre Zikr on several occasions and she and he had several rather deep conversations, turning on Sufi and Muslim spirituality and in particular the question of personal spiritual missions, or callings, such as that which had led Mohammad to attach himself to the Sufi order.

Khlorindah's female intuition had spotted something conflicted in Mohammad. She believed that he was good and virtuous and honourable, but also that she could seduce him; her logic was such that by so doing she might somehow transfer his goodness from him to herself. Maybe she was imagining that he had fallen in love with her; and that if she drew him into bed he would worship her and be her slave forever. Perhaps it was her illusion of the moment that a new sexual involvement could provide a lasting peace of mind. Maybe it wasn't even him she wanted; possibly it was only his aura of goodness, his moral presence whose inner fragility she sensed as within her power; perhaps she was drawn to him only because of what she had felt the loss of—only because she felt she had given away her essential goodness and would never get it back.

Their brief, but deep relationship had led to his taking a brotherly interest in her, and they had intermittently exchanged letters when she was wandering the region with her very mobile singing contracts flitting from city to city and country to country in the Middle-East and southern Europe. Now Mohammad took possession of one more letter from her, which he had not received while it had rested in his Pir's desk drawer these past two months while he was away on assignment in Jerusalem. Arriving back at the Arriva hotel, paid for as usual by the Committee, he showered and then slipped into his bed before remembering the letter in his coat pocket. Retrieving it he began to read:

My Dearest Brother Mohammad:

I sit on my chair in the dark room of my hotel here in Cairo, where I have returned after my singing. I have just read your last letter telling me of your Sufi devotion, and how you plan to dedicate your life to God, Allah after your term of service to humanity with the Committee. As I sit here in my darkened room, I have felt my life coming more and more to a similar crisis, feeling more and more dissatisfied with the shell-like emptiness of my present wandering and rootless way of life, a world of the most insubstantial and unreal glitter, and without the common love which a woman might hope to deliver her from it. When the outward light is fading and the body is a little wearied with the work and labour, then the inward light shines the brighter and we have a deeper sense of resting on the Divine strength.

I have missed you all the more since our meeting in London last year at the Mida Vale Sufi Zikr, though your letters have brought your spirit closer and closer the further and further we have been apart from each other.

Since then the very hardship, and the sorrow, and the blindness, and the sin I have beheld here amoung all the suffering people of Palestine and amoung the wealthy principalities of this region, both of the sinned against and the sinning, of the faithful and of the unbelievers, have drawn me ever downwards until I have been drawn towards a depression, then a recovery and finally towards a decisive step, of which I will not tell you now, which will either serve to heal this broken world, or separate me from it forever.

Yes, I sit on my chair in this dark room, and close my eyes, for then the very hardship and sorrow, and the blindness and the sin I have beheld and have been so ready to weep over in Palestine and across the world—yea, all the anguish of the foolish children of men, which sometimes wraps around me like a sudden darkness—I can bear with a willing pain, as if I were sharing the Prophet's burden, and was soon to be martyred close to his side in a better world in Allah's Heaven.

For I feel it, I feel it—infinite love and compassion and mercifulness, yea in the fullness of the knowledge God, Allah suffers, he yearns, he mourns for all of mankind's shortcomings, and that it is a blind self-seeking which wants to be freed from the sorrow wherewith the whole of Allah's creation groaneth and travaileth. Surely, it is not true blessedness to be free of sorrow while there is sorrow and sin in the world and in the land of our fathers. You know well in my personal special circumstance I could easily escape it, except that I could not escape myself and my duty and my God Allah. But I happily turn my back on my former life. Sorrow is a part of love, and love does not seek to throw it off. It is not the spirit alone that tells me this; I see it in the whole work and word of the Quran and the Hadith and of the Prophets. Is not the suffering of all mankind, men and women, believers and unbelievers alike, in the soul of the Prophet Rasul wherewith he brought forth the Message to all souls whomever on earth and ascended to Heaven? Is not God Allah and the Prophet one with the Infinite Love itself—as our love is at one with our sorrow?

These have been much borne in me of late, and I have seen with a new clearness the meaning of the Prophet's mission. How long did he labor, how much did he suffer to cleanse away the uncleanness and corruption in which he had found himself? The time of inaction and waiting in silence is drawing to a close. I am tired of offering myself up to the hollowness of this world. I am preparing to follow him, to martyrdom, Inshallah, if by his will need be, or otherwise to live on in His greater glory. I will take up the burden with the Prophet and help him bear it, and share his sorrow, if that is the cup we must needs drink from, if we would have any part in the Divine Love which is one with his sorrow.

God Allah go with us both, my dear Brother in Spirit, Mohammad, and may we soon complete our callings and meet in a better world, here on earth, or elsewhere.

Your Sister in Spirit,

Khlorinda Sofronia Darwah

# CHAPTER III.

### Jerusalem

### Great Expectations

The Global Appeal for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly was an event, like the British Empire, upon which the sun was to never set. It began in London at ten a.m., Greenwich Mean Time, in the presence of more "ex-Kings" than made their appearance in Voltaire's Candide: Former Presidents Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter of the USA; Former President Gorbachov of the former Soviet Union; Former Prime Minister Tony Blair; Former United Nations Secretaries Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Kofi Anan and Perez de Quellar. Sitting Premiere Medvedev of the Russian Federation was also present, and his official flotilla of aircraft were set to ferry the principal dignitaries from London on to Moscow for the 12th Hour Mid-point Ceremony and then on to Jerusalem to join Premiere Wen Jiabao of China for the 24th Hour Closing Ceremony. Billions of eyes, television and computer Internet screens would be riveted upon this and another seven stages in seven world cities during the course of the next twenty-four hours—a seamless unending twenty-four hours on the air and upon the Web during which a continuous Telecast and Webcast around the world and around the clock would seek to unite the consciousness of global humanity in its entirety for the first time and raise it to its urgent call to action. The London opening ceremony featured the honorary presence of the host nation's sitting Prime Minister and an endless slew of dignitaries and pop stars including Nobel Prize winner Günter Gross and an innumerable galaxy of the leading stars and lights of the music, media and entertainment fields. At precisely ten, under the orgiastic barrage of tens of thousands of flashing camera lights, Dr. Robert Sartorius representing the organizing and sponsoring Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and flanked by twelve sitting or former heads of state and twenty-one Nobel Prize laureates and his visibly pregnant wife Eva declared the Global Appeal open, followed by an endless barrage of thunderous applause, fireworks, celebratory music and improvised horning and honking and the release of a thousand of white doves in each city around the globe, the symbol of universal peace and understanding. The live coverage on BBC and CNN switched rapidly from city to city: Moscow, Johannesburg, New York, Buenos Aires, Tokyo, Mumbai and Jerusalem. In each of them the announcement raised an echoing cheer and conflagration of flashbulbs, rockets, fireworks and pandemonium. On the stage in Jerusalem Jack McKinsey stood as the master of ceremonies beside the global superstars Isis and Osiris and the Premiers of China, Israel and six other states of the region as he saw the face of his father projected sixty meters high on the media screen of Teddy Stadium declaring the telethon open from London. Sixty meters tall, godlike to the eye, father and son waved to one another electronically, united in spirit and action at last across the expanse of half the world, the father, the son and their electronic ghosts.

After an hour and a half of speeches of thanks and introducings of the concept of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and the campaign for its establishment, the Global Appeal Telethon broke out joyfully into a musical and entertainment spectacle featuring the leading celebrities and artists of the world, peppered by pauses and interviews in which the celebrities praised the good cause, made joint appearances with public dignitaries or made appeals for the public to join the campaign, add their names to the Online Internet Petition, and to donate money or volunteer time to the campaign worldwide. Live performances and interviews in each stadium were sequentially interspersed with live video-feeds of big-name performances from the other six stages across the globe and greetings from their celebrities and dignitaries, making for a truly seamless and awesomely global presence and consciousness of oneness across the expanse of the planet.

The celebrities scattered across the eight stages around the globe were a veritable Who's Who of the entertainment works, including amoung many others Pink Floyd, Elton John, Paul McCartney, U2, Pete Doherty, Robbie Williams, Sting, Madonna, Coldplay, The Who, R.E.M., Annie Lennox, Dido, UB40, Snoop Dog, Ms Dynamite, Mariah Carey, Joss Stone, Scissor Sisters, Keane, Snow Patrol, Stereophonics, Razorlight, Velvet Revolver, The Killers, Travis; in Paris, with Muse, Calogero, Kyo, Shakira, Andrea Bocelli, Craig David, Placebo, Youssou N'Dour; in Rome, with Duran Duran and Faith Hill; in Berlin, with Brian Wilson, Green Day, Audioslave, and Crosby Stills & Nash; in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with Stevie Wonder, Bon Jovi, Jay-Z, Destiny's Child, Black Eyed Peas, Dave Matthews Band, Will Smith, Alicia Keys, Ludacris, Linkin Park, Josh Groban, Kaiser Chiefs, Maroon 5, Keith Urban, Sarah McLachlan, Rob Thomas; and in Barrie with Neil Young, The Barenaked Ladies, Bryan Adams, Deep Purple, Gordon Lightfoot and the Tragically Hip, just for starters.

But the massive turnout of the celebrities and political leaders was itself dwarfed by the gigantic crowds rallied by the grassroots campaigns, fueled by the new media, as hundreds of thousands of Occupy Wall Street activists, Arab Spring zealots of democracy and assorted People's Power groups poured uncontrollably into the stadiums of the eight telethon host cities.

As the twenty-four hours of nonstop entertainment extravaganza moved forward, according to plan the leading principals of the Opening Ceremony in London—Presidents Clinton, Carter and Gorbachov, Secretaries Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Anan, and Perez de Quellar, and the Committee staff—Sartorius and his wife Eva, and Andreas made their way aboard the convoy of Russian state aircraft accompanying Premiere Medvedev, first to a Mid-Point celebration in Moscow at Hour 12 and then onward for their repeated appearance at the Closing Ceremony to be held on the close of the 24th hour in Teddy Stadium in Jerusalem. Arriving at Jerusalem the convoy of three Russian state aircraft in the interests of convenience and time were landed at the closer Atarot International Airport in the suburbs of the city, rather than at the more distant Ben Gurion International Airport on the road to Tel Aviv which was more typically used by commercial airliners and more regular visitors. A flotilla of helicopters then ferried the dignitaries from Atarot Airport to Teddy Stadium for the final few hours leading up to the Closing Ceremony to be so dramatically broadcast live globally on satellite television and across the Internet. Isis and Osiris were back at their hotel resting after a long performance and vigil and were scheduled to join the political celebrities onstage later in the final hour. As Sartorius followed this illustrious group through the long dark tunnel used by the home football players to triumphantly enter the playing field at Teddy Stadium, holding the warm hand of his pregnant wife Eva following behind him, he was blinded by the intensity of the endless skyward batteries of arrayed floodlights and spotlights streaming towards him, high and low, and by the orgasmic popping of the myriad camera flashes from every direction.

# CHAPTER IV.

### Qom, Iran

### The Parable of the Cave

Bundled blindfolded and handcuffed off the hijacked airplane and shuttled from vehicle to vehicle, the principals from the stage at Teddy Stadium in Jerusalem found themselves in an immense darkened cave. When their blindfolds and fetters were removed the small group discovered that they had been separated from the political dignitaries and heads of state: remaining together in their own cave were Sartorius and his pregnant wife Eva, Mohammad, Jack, and Andreas—just those from the Committee staff—Mustafa and Khlorinda were gone with their captors. Asking about the whereabouts of the political dignitaries they were told by their masked captor that Premiere Wen Jiabao and Premiere Medvedev had been escorted to their respective embassies in Teheran. Presidents Clinton, Carter, Gorbachov and Tony Blair and the former UN Secretaries had been dispersed to various similar underground nuclear facilities throughout the country—presumably being used as "human shields" to prevent any nuclear attack or "bunker buster" bombing.

Each was locked in an individual cell within the cave at first, only being allowed to come together for meals taken in the central common area under the supervising eyes of their masked captors who made only cursory responses to their inquiries and immediate concerns. Each was left to their private meditations and dealt with their predicament in their own way. Andreas occupied himself with calisthenics—situps, push-ups and pull-ups on a metal bar across the ceiling supports. Sartorius seemed to withdraw into a personal meditation when alone, stretched upon his bed, and was protectively solicitous to Eva when they met for common meals. Eva was terrified, but tried not to show it to keep from making Robert suffer even more terribly from his inability to protect her and the unborn baby. She put on a brave front and mothered the others at meals and concerned herself with meditations over the unborn life just beginning to stir within her. Jack was equally tortured by his inability to protect his father and occupied himself with observing the minute behaviours and routines of the captors with an eye towards ways and means to devise a plan of escape. When not preoccupied with these urgent thoughts he practiced his Tae Kwon Do martial arts in his dreary room. Mohammad at first practiced Muraqaba, a meditative discipline derived from his Sufi training. Then he found it therapeutic to do as innumerable prisoners have done over the ages from Marco Polo to Nehru: he asked for a notebook and a pen and began to write—at first a diary of his private thoughts, then some attempts at poetry and an attempt at a fictional composition he had had working in the back of his mind but never got around to until this stretch of enforced solitude. After a few days of turmoil both Andreas and Sartorius followed his lead and began to occupy themselves with their requested notebooks as well. Their captors were kind enough to allow such liberties, and aside from the brute fact of their involuntary captivity, they were treated relatively well, even courteously in a cold fashion. After a week they were visited by a handsome Iranian Colonel of the Revolutionary Guards Quds Force. Commandant Moussavi, who spoke with near-perfect Oxford English and who apologized for their discomfiture, which he nonetheless maintained was regrettably necessary through no fault of their own. He then offered to set the company at liberty within the cave's common areas, releasing them from their individual cells to be together if they would give their word as gentlemen to behave peacefully. Sartorius consented on behalf of himself and Eva, as did Mohammad. Jack and Andreas protested that their very captivity was an ungentlemanly act to which they refused to consent or acquiesce in principle, but promised to otherwise behave in a reasonable manner. After cautioning them on the futility and suicidal nature of any attempt to escape in light of their position and the robust forces guarding them, he nonetheless set them a liberty within the larger common area of the underground chamber, which was handsomely furnished, evidently normally the commons of the junior officer's quarters of the underground military facility in which they found themselves, and which they guessed was part of the dispersed underground network of Iranian nuclear development facilities designed to shield such efforts from hostile nuclear or non-nuclear attack.

Their daily life soon slipped into a familiar routine, eventless as it was on the surface, yet tinged with the deadly tension of the fact of their enforced captivity. Common soldiers from the officer's mess wheeled a series of buffet carts into the common room like clockwork for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Although there were no newspapers or Internet access to learn what was transpiring in the outside world, a small library was provided with several shelves of classic English novels and other works which helped pass the day. In the morning a crew of female soldiers came through to wash, mop, sweep, make the beds and change the linen, much in the routine of perhaps a three-star hotel. Time was taken up with endless discussions of what might be happening and how they might come out of all this alive as well as the innocuous private pastimes of writing, reading or pondering one's thoughts and anxieties. Their requests to negotiate for their freedom went unanswered, with the reply that orders from on high must be awaited patiently.

# CHAPTER V.

### London

### The Xth Day of the Crisis

Etienne Dearlove shuttled back and forth between the newsroom of the BBC World Service and the Vauxhall Cross Headquarters of MI6 as the Jerusalem Crisis broke. He was one of a troika of BBC anchors for the crisis, and he had found himself broadcasting live from London at the very moment of the nuclear explosion in Jerusalem.

From that time, " Zero Hour" as it came to be referred to, all sentient eyes of the world were glued and riveted to each successive revelation and development of the crisis, and all subsequent broadcasts began with the announcement: "Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen—This is Day 'X' of the Crisis." Day 1, of course, focused on the unbelievable visuals of the rising small mushroom cloud above the Western area of the city, the hostage taking at Teddy Stadium several kilometers distant from the blast, the forced abduction at gunpoint by helicopter of the principal heads of state and onstage celebrities televised live by the telethon cameras from the stadium and the subsequent stand-off at Atarot Airport at the hands of the masked gunmen until Premiere Medvedev's personal intervention persuaded the Israeli Defense Force SWAT team to allow the Russian state aircraft to depart with all onboard. Through all of this drama was the constant cutting to the live cameras on the ground upfed by satellite documenting the scenes of panic and destruction, and of the restoration of order in the city by the Israeli Defense Force.

Etienne was up and constantly on and off camera for the first twenty-four hours, making late-breaking revelations as the camera crews got out of the confines of Teddy Stadium and were able to record wider events unfolding within the city and feed them via live satellite to London's BBC Headquarters. After the scene of gunmen and panic at Teddy stadium the next dramatic revelation was from the site of the explosion, centered on the Israel Museum in the Western compound of the Israeli government complex. Though sealed off by the Israeli Army, remote telescopic cameras from the surrounding heights were able to reveal that the fireball of the nuclear explosion, centered on the Israel Museum, had been severe enough to destroy the entire neighboring Knesset building and many of the surrounding Israeli ministry buildings at its governmental center. The device must have been small—the equivalent of a small tactical nuclear weapon—and it apparently failed to completely detonate—possibly a "near nuclear fizzle" of a crude fission bomb speculated some experts from America's Defense Department and the International Atomic Energy Organization, thus sparing the historic Old City some distance away to the East. The Israeli response was paralyzed by the astounding circumstance, revealed several hours into the crisis, that the bomb had gone off during a critical full session of the Knesset voting on a Motion of No-Confidence in the sitting government that required every member's presence and vote. The Knesset building was but across the street from the Israel Museum where the device exploded. Hence in the fireball of a mere instant the entire Israeli government including every legislator and cabinet minister was entirely vaporized. Thus emergency control devolved to the army command under martial law, but otherwise there was paralysis. Furthermore, though masked gunmen had abducted the Global Appeal principals from onstage at Teddy Stadium the perpetrators' identities and affiliations were unknown, making immediate wider retaliation impossible. All forces were mobilized and put on full alert and all efforts were directed towards managing the chaos and destruction.

Once the gunmen with their hostages at gunpoint had reached Atarot Airport in the commandeered helicopters which had been waiting at the service of Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao, now captive hostages, and having overpowered the local security in the confusion of the nuclear explosion and its aftermath at Teddy Stadium, they were able to set down beside and board the Russian state air convoy with their hostages in their power. As the convoy of Russian state aircraft taxied to the end of the runway for takeoff at the captive Russian President's orders, a stand-off occurred for another two hours in which the Israelis threatened to destroy the planes if they attempted to take off and the masked gunmen threatened to execute the heads of state if they were not allowed to depart safely from Israeli airspace. An IDF general boarded the aircraft unarmed to negotiate, and it was finally agreed that the flotilla of Russian state aircraft would be allowed to depart on condition that the gunmen would surrender themselves to the Russian security forces on board once they had cleared Israeli airspace and undergo peaceful surrender and arrest upon landing in Moscow. The Israeli general was surprised to discover that Baroness Maddox was also on board the hostage airliner, apparently a guest of the Russian President, and she had functioned as a go-between with the leaders of the terrorists, somehow facilitating a resolution of the standoff. The Russian security forces still retained their weapons but had refrained from using them at the orders of their President, himself held at gunpoint, who hoped for a peaceful resolution of the crisis, including in no small part enhancing his own chances of coming out of it alive.

Thus, as Etienne talked to the viewers of the BBC Worldwide Service over the live–by-satellite camera footage of the Russian presidential aircraft finally lifting off the runway at Jerusalem's Atarot International Airport, he had the expectation that the crisis, if not in any way resolved, was at least momentarily contained. Etienne and the rest of the world were destined, however, to receive another rude shock in the next ensuing hours of the drama, which was not by any means destined to be their last—not by a long, long shot.

A half-an-hour after the plane's departure NATO AWACS radars reported that the Russian presidential planes had diverted from their course bound for Moscow and broken to the East, following a course up the Persian Gulf headed for Iraq. By this time the aircraft were shadowed by two Israeli fighters, three Russian interceptors and three US Navy interceptors from a carrier in the Gulf. The Israeli interceptors had requested permission from their ground control to fire, but after the IDF Commander in Chief continued his in-person radio consultation with the Russian President in the plane's cockpit, the decision was made not to shoot the plane down.

At the last minute before reaching Iraqi airspace the captive plane diverted again eastward, entering Iranian airspace on a heading for Teheran, and a minute later requesting permission for a landing at the Iranian capital. Teheran's air control granted permission to land at a military airport outside the city and requested the shadowing aircraft of the other nations to depart Iranian airspace as a squadron of Iranian interceptors joined the pursuit. The Israeli, American and Russian aircraft continued on the captive crafts' tail however, but on consultation with their commanders, up to Presidential level no doubt, a decision was made not to fire. The Iranians promised over a hot-line that they would disarm and take the hostage-takers into custody, rendering them up for international justice. Thus it occurred that the three Russian Presidential state aircraft touched down outside of Teheran, and the American, Israeli and Russian pursuit interceptors returned to their bases without hostilities.

Day 2 of the Crisis was a day of revelations, developments and of mysteries for both Etienne and his viewers on the BBC World Service. Live satellite footage showed the arrival of Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao at their respective embassies in Teheran. No sooner had they arrived, however, than rowdy and violent demonstrations began to form around the Chinese and Russian embassy compounds protesting the abuse of Muslims in Russian Chechnya, Chinese "East Turkestan" or Xinjiang, and other locations about their respective countries. The crowds were also xenophobically hysterical at the looming prospect of a nuclear attack on the city by the Israelis and the Americans, and the crowds surged into the American compound as well, just as they had done under President Jimmy Carter. By afternoon a rushing mob had overwhelmed both the Iranian and the embassy security perimeters and had surged into and occupied the respective embassies, taking the Russian and Chinese premiers hostage, but not injuring them. It was unclear if this was choreographed by the Iranian regime in advance or an outpouring of popular hysteria but it was clearly tolerated by the regime, and the Revolutionary Guards made no visible efforts to restore order and protection by force, obviously exploiting the situation either premeditatedly or opportunistically to excuse themselves and to evidently provide "human shields" to protect the city from attack. The morning broadcast featured footage of the joint official announcements in Beijing and in Moscow demanding that the Iranian government uphold international law by providing for the immediate release, return and safety of their President and Premiere and the rendition of those responsible for international justice. They also announced that their joint anti-terror maneuvers on each other's soil were being suspended and converted into a Joint Expeditionary Force of the SCO, or Shanghai Cooperation Organization to either pressure or force the Iranians to comply with their joint demands. They announced an immediate general mobilization and the immediate deployment of their joint forces from the SCO practice maneuvers to the Iranian border. Successively, the members of the SCO announced their support and ratification of the steps and pledged the free right of transit and use of airspace for SCO members taking part in the Expeditionary Force. Military analysts for the BBC, ex-British and American generals, observed that the Chinese forces already mobilized in Xinjiang and being loaded onto Russian railcars for transit were actually geographically closer to the Persian Gulf than they were to their own capital city of Beijing and that the Russians were already mobilized for operations in Georgia and Azerbaijan and could reach Iran without inordinate delay through SCO transit routes. American, British and NATO forces, on the other hand were already considerably disengaged and absent from the region after the years of drawdown, disillusionment and withdrawal following the Iraq fiasco and the re-deployment to Afghanistan. The Iranians themselves were seen as already at a high state of readiness, and their military, particularly in the areas of high technology, air force and anti-aircraft missile technology was much strengthened as a result of the substantial arms deals consummated with the Russians and Chinese over the last two years.

The Iranian President announced in his morning broadcast that while it had no part or responsibility for the nuclear explosion in Jerusalem or for the mob's occupation of the Russian and Chinese embassies—an outburst of popular indignation, Iran's government could not help but to observe that Israel had brought this vengeance upon itself through its illegal creation, its continued illegal occupation of Islamic territories, its war crimes and crimes against humanity and its secret development of nuclear weapons at its base in Dimona. Iran pledged itself to the timely release of the hostages and rendition of the perpetrators to justice, but demanded first an immediate Security Council inquiry into Israel's possession of nuclear weapons and its threatened use of such nuclear weapons as an immediate threat to international peace. He added that Iran would keep the hostages safely in the capital and at sites threatened by Israeli nuclear or "bunker-buster" attack until such time as the UN Security Council could give guarantees that neither the Israelis nor the Americans nor any other power would attack it with nuclear or non-nuclear weapons. He announced his government's support for the "De-nuclearization" of the entire Middle-East including Israel on the condition that henceforward any obligation or undertaking of the Iranian government to the elimination of nuclear weapons or the potential to make them would be irrevocably tied to a reciprocal undertaking imposed on the Israelis to dismantle or surrender to international control their own nuclear arsenal at Dimona or elsewhere and their ability to use or threaten other nations in the region with them. He called for an international Conference on De-Nuclearization of Palestine and the Middle East patterned on the Six-Party talks on the Korean Peninsula, again on the condition that the mandatory de-nuclearization of Israel would be an immediate equal and irrevocable goal of the Conference. He also announced that he had placed the entire Iranian armed forces and Revolutionary Guards and Militias on full mobilization and alert and that Iran was prepared to fully defend its territory and airspace against any foreign incursion.

Allowing for the time-zone differences, the noon-hour brought statements from the American President deploring and condemning the explosion and demanding the immediate rendition of the perpetrators to international justice with the convening of an immediate Security Council emergency session to investigate Iranian, Hamas, Al-Qaida and other state and non-state involvement with the act of terror, as well as their activities worldwide, including recommendation of retaliatory action against any entity found responsible. Significantly, however, while expressly reserving the right of military action against any state or non-state entities found responsible for the outrage, the American President called for restraint on all sides and for refraining from any pre-emptive nuclear or non-nuclear strikes by or against any parties until the facts and conditions could be determined and clarified. He asked all men and women of all faiths and nationalities to pray for peace. America's NATO and Western allies quickly followed suit and joined in its general position.

The afternoon of Day 2 also brought further revelations, along with massive video documentation of the devastation caused by the blast. Virtually the entire government district of West Jerusalem was found completely destroyed including most of the government ministries in addition to the Knesset. The Dead Sea Scrolls were lost in their vaporized pavilion at the center of the blast next to the Israel Museum. The area was immediately evacuated and efforts to contain the radioactive contamination were begun. All pilgrimage to the Holy Land sites was being suspended in the interests of health and safety. Nevertheless both the Dome of the Rock and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher were being mobbed by throngs of hysterical believers and it was beyond the capacity of anyone to restrain them. Evidently a Last Judgment Day cult had formed in the last day around the figures of Isis and Osiris, who had been in their Jerusalem hotel at the time of the blast and thus not part of the party taken hostage at Teddy Stadium. Osiris had announced on global television that the "Last Days" had arrived and that he had come forward as the "Son of Man, to fulfill the world's final destiny"

An hour into the religious coverage of the city Etienne cut to live coverage of Osiris's procession on a donkey, beginning in the neighboring town of Bethlehem and onward towards the Old City, approaching the entrance to the Via Dolorosa. Upon reaching the Via Dolorosa Osiris stripped himself of his clothes, but for a swathing loincloth, and took upon his back a wooden cross and a crown of thorns upon his head. He was flagellated by a member of his band, while Isis rode in a sedan chair behind him, following his progress. Thousands approached both him and her asking for their intercession in Heaven for their dead or dying loved ones, they being taken as the reincarnations of Jesus and of the Virgin Mary. The crowds forcibly thrust aside the police sent to restrain them. Osiris stopped at a hilltop to deliver a last "Sermon on the Mount" and ranted and raved and pleaded and prayed to those about him to abandon their sins, repent and cleanse their spirits for a new re-birth before the approaching Second Coming and Final Judgment. He said he came to them now as the living embodiment of God's Love, their very last chance as God's final act of mercy to those who would repent of their sins, materialism and egotism before the pealing of the now approaching final hour and pledge themselves to live evermore only for Love. He visited the hospitals and triage wards of those suffering from radiation burns and sickness and there were testimonials broadcast worldwide along his path from witnesses that swore that he had raised the dead back to life, absorbing the poisonous radiation back into his own body. Thousands mobbed churches across the globe declaring him the New Messiah of Love and over one million descended on St. Peter's in Rome demanding the Pope immediately canonize him and declare his divinity. Isis also had thousands bow to her and kiss the hem of her garment asking for her intercession in heaven and in Purgatory for their beloved ones recently departed. Millions of Muslims declared him the Mahdi or the Occulted Immam. Millions of T-Shirts with an engraved Pieta image of Isis holding the suffering figure Osiris with pierced wrists being taken from the cross miraculously appeared in the first 48 hours and it was said that anyone who died wearing such a T-shirt by-passed Purgatory and St. Peter's interrogation and entered Heaven freely on a divine passportout.

Across the world hundreds of thousands of protesters marched in the streets, including a massive mobilization of the Occupy Wall Street and other anti-war activists, along with environmental groups frantic at the drifting radiation that threatened the Middle-East already and which they feared would result from additional nuclear exchanges. Muslim group overflowed Tahrir square in Cairo and across a dozen Islamic countries, divided in sentiments as to whether to urge immediate peace or to ready to retaliate against Israel should general hostilities break out, yet also fearful of becoming the subject of a nuclear sneak-attack by the Israelis in the moment of their incitement.

At the end of the day the results of the survey of the radioactive residue by the American and Israeli experts collected by technicians combing the area clothed in their radiation suits was released. It was declared that the source of the fissionable material by its radioactive signature could only have been the missing stores from North Korea. It was speculated that in the chaos following the fall and imploding of the North Korean government following the death of the Dear Leader the stores must have been absconded with and passed on to the international terrorist network, finally finding themselves in the hands of the Islamic foes of Israel. It was still unclear who was responsible or by what means or pathways the device had been designed, delivered and exploded. It was pledged that the investigation would continue with renewed vigor until all truth was revealed.

Day 3 of the Crisis brought on a flurry of political developments across the globe. In Jerusalem the tattered remnants of the government and surviving leaders from outlying areas struggled to reconstitute a civilian government as an IDF Council of Generals assumed temporary rule by executive decree, Chaired by the Mayor of Tel Aviv as the interim Acting Head of State until an election could be held in the following months. An outpouring of instinctive national patriotism amidst the shock covered an underlying radical polarization between the war and peace camps, some of the former calling for immediate nuclear retaliation against all the Muslim capitals and Mecca, some for a nuclear attack on Teheran and its nuclear sites only, and the latter calling for the consummation of the long-stalled negotiations on the creation of a Palestinian state and some calling for the abandonment of the nuclear arsenal at Dimona and decrying the madness of war and hate.

All the principal powers continued their general mobilizations with the Russian and Chinese forces under the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) umbrella moving as quickly as logistically possible into the areas approaching Iran. Substantial ground forces moved by the rail, oil and gas pipeline routes which had been intensively developed over the last ten years paralleling the ancient "Silk Road" from China to the ancient Roman, Persian and Islamic empires. Chinese forces moved particularly rapidly along the route of the recently built and opened China-Central Asia Gas Pipeline through Kazakhstan and on through Turkmenistan towards the Iranian border. Chinese troops also followed SCO contingency plans and moved along Russian railways all across Siberia towards the crisis zone. Russian and Chinese air assets rushed quickly forward occupying major former-Soviet air bases and from their staging areas in Xinjiang positioning themselves to establish a local air superiority over the Iran theater.

In both China and Russia the official and popular response was bellicose and clamorous. Rallies of millions were held in Red Square and on Tian An Men Square, fervidly supporting the demands of their governments for the release of their President and Premiere. There was a wave of nationalistic enlistments into the armed forces in both states. Etienne in London featured and commented upon the rally at Tian An Men Square featuring Minister Luo Chunwang echoing the words of Chairman Mao Zedong upon the founding of the Chinese Republic in 1949:

"Zhonguo zhan qi lai! —My friends, comrades and countrymen—more than sixty years ago our great Chairman Mao declared with these words and from this site that China has arisen!—Zhong guo zhan qi lai!—China has stood up! For two hundred years China has suffered the outrages of external powers dictating her fate despite her most glorious and ancient heritage and culture. For two hundred years China has been shamefully prostrate on her back and absent from the stage of world history. For the last forty years we have worked incessantly to recover our lost strength. Now I declare to you that the days of humiliation and violation of our national honour are past! China has stood up!—China has arisen to take its rightful place upon the world's stage as a Great Power; Our 1.3 billion people—more than a fifth of all the people on earth, soon to be the Greatest Power, will no longer bear the humiliation, abuse and violation of the shameful past. Together with our comrades and allies in the former Soviet Union, our brothers in the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, we shall right the indignity done to our Premiere, Comrade Wen. I call on all who love their country to support our glorious People's Liberation Army in their efforts to restore our national honour! Napoleon, a great and strong leader of the West akin to our glorious Qin Shi Huang Di, our first Emperor who first united China into a great nation and who wanted to do the same for Europe, stated that China was asleep, and counseled the West to let her sleep and not disturb her, as when she awakes and rises the Earth will tremble. I say to you that China has awakened! China has arisen! We, together with our Russian and SCO comrades who share a common historical tradition now form the Axis of the Future, the axis of a new Asian Century. Let all support the New Axis! Let anyone who challenges her might or attempts to continue the indignities of the past tremble!"

The Chinese President then announced that he was appointing Luo Chunwang as the Chairman of the newly formed Emergency Council to mobilize and direct the management of China's military, economic and political strength to meet the challenge. Etienne in commentary following the Beijing rally pointed out that the members of the new Emergency Council appeared to be drawn from the ranks of the "Tai Zi Dang" or the "Princeling Party" consisting of the influential inner circle of the sons of the most prominent powerful Communist Party leaders of the past and associated with the most vocal nationalist and jingoist elements of the power elite.

BBC footage of Red Square in Moscow that day featured a military parade and rally whose massive show of force gave evidence of Russian will and strength equal to that on Tian An Men. The Russian President appeared in military uniform and gave a speech remarkably similar to that of his comrade Luo Chunwang in Beijing, declaring that the days of humiliation of Russia since the dissolution of the former Soviet Union were now over, and that Russia has now stood again to recover the strength and force which had lapsed in its recent past. The President declared that no effort or struggle would be neglected to return the Premiere, and it similarly appointed an Emergency Council to manage the crisis in Moscow. Latter day "Kremlinologists" appearing as "Talking Heads" on BBC and CNN following up the speech, noted that the members of the new Emergency Council standing behind the Prime Minister appeared to be the most powerful members of the "Siloviki" or the bureaucratic and nationalistic power elite associated with the re-consolidation of power in the past around the strengthened Presidential executive, most of whom were, like the Prime Minister and former President himself, drawn from the apparatchiks of the former KGB, Party and Red Army elites.

In New York the United Nations Secretary-General convened an emergency session of the Security Council, and Etienne cut to live coverage of his opening speech as he attempted to institute a schedule of negotiations to defuse the Crisis, calling for military restraint on all sides, an international investigation into the nuclear explosion and a Resolution prohibiting all parties from unilateral military action or aggression without Security Council authorization. Russian and Chinese reservations watered down the Resolution to a bland ineffectiveness. The Iranian representative reiterated the Iranian position, denied responsibility for the nuclear attack, and demanded security guarantees against Israeli or American pre-emptive nuclear or non-nuclear attacks against its atomic facilities, prior to releasing the hostages, who were now denominated as "Distinguished Guests." He cautioned that any military action against Iran would result in the compete closure of the Straits of Hormuz to all shipping. The Israeli delegate demanded immediate rendition of the terrorist hostage-takers to Israeli jurisdiction for trial and execution, and irrevocable surrender and the immediate and internationally verifiable destruction of all nuclear processing facilities in Iran, and threatened unilateral military attack utilizing "any and all necessary means" to end the potential nuclear threat. The members of the Arab League generally supported the Iranian position and demanded "De-Nuclearization" of the entire Middle East, beginning with the Israeli arsenal at Dimona. The Americans announced the precautionary movement of air, land and naval forces towards the area but continued to urge military restraint and resolution of the crisis by peaceful diplomatic means. The American President issued an invitation to the heads of government of Iran, Israel, Russia, and China and the Secretary General to convene a Summit at Camp David to resolve the Crisis.

After his broadcast, Etienne shuttled back to MI6 Headquarters at Vauxhall Cross for confidential briefings and de-briefings, hoping to get up to date in the latest flows of classified information surrounding the Crisis. He met first with Sir Endymion Needham, the controller at the China Desk and occupying a seat on the Eurasian Strategic Controllerate managing the Jerusalem Crisis which had widened into a generalized Eurasian Crisis focused on Iran, Russia and China. Sir Endymion first brought him up to speed on recent developments from the inside.

Fortunately for C and Sir Endymion, in addition to the excellent overhead satellite aerials he had at his disposal courtesy of the American NSA at Fort Meade, thanks to the initiative and Etienne's former efforts in Beijing he also had periodic inside reports of the Chinese Politburo meetings and discussions conveyed to him as clandestine intelligence over the Internet by the ultra-secret intelligence source "Nightingale." The Americans before the Jerusalem detonation had picked up the joint routine military counter-terrorism exercises by the Chinese and Russians in the general vicinity of their respective problem areas of Xinjiang and Tibet in western China and around the Chechnya and Georgian/Azerbaijani areas in the Russian south. Although these for the first time had been observed to involve actual counter-terror operations against existing threats in addition to mere practice exercises, these were considered by Washington and London as routine and understandable in the context of the current subversive terror threats, and a welcome activist addition to their own counter-terror efforts in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iraq. Nonetheless C had instructed Sir Endymion Needham to expedite any discoveries from Nightingale that might shed light on the Chinese intentions with regard to the Russian nexus and the current Jerusalem-Iranian crisis.

Sir Endymion Needham narrated the onward development of the story blow by blow to Etienne, from the time he had called C regarding something urgent from the Nightingale channel. Speaking to C by encrypted video link at the morning meeting of the Eurasian Strategic Controllerate he introduced Nightingale's latest revelations: "I have before me the account of the Chinese Politburo convening an emergency meeting on the Jerusalem-Iranian situation two days ago. It seems confirming their public announcement they have reached a decision to move a Joint Expeditionary Force up to the Iranian border. Both the Russians and the Chinese have reached a common agreement after consulting with each other; they have both agreed to move their armed forces jointly to the border to demand repatriation of their Premiere and President, terming their presence a "Peacekeeping Force" of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. The Nightingale memoranda of the Politburo discussions detail that they are afraid of the Americans and Israelis moving first with their nukes and bunker busters and so they have decided to create a conventional threat and possible helicopter-based rescue mission like the one attempted under Jimmy Carter first, to pre-empt that possibility and to deter any possibility of any American invasion of Iran proper. They have decided to use the cover of a Shanghai Cooperation Organization action to provide a cover of legitimacy, and to pre-empt the Americans and Israelis. They have agreed with the Russians that in the event of the failure of the Iranians to make a satisfactory resolution or of any nuclear strike on Iran, their troops will be prepared to cross the border as the common action of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) in conjunction with the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) in the name of which the Russian and Chinese forces will act. They will move in their forces first, then retroactively ask ratification by the UN Security Council, citing the precedents of NATO in Bosnia and the Iraq affair.

All of that is still "iffy" but nonetheless worrisome. More worrying however is the firm confirmation and documentation of the massive internal power shift within the Politburo and in parallel a similar purge and shift within the inner circle of the Russian Cabinet. Nightingale just revealed a massive purge within the Politburo and the Standing Committee in Beijing—In the absence of Wen Jiabao's liberal protection and riding a jingoistic reaction to his and China's perceived humiliation the pro-Western liberal faction has been forced out and replaced by the "Tai Zi Dang" or "Princeling Party" which has moved their own men in to replace them. The balance has irrevocably tilted—to 'the Right' in our words, or to "the Left" in the Chinese looking-glass frame of things. We have the Princelings—the sons and occasional daughters of the old inner party strongmen of the past—sons of Li Pang, Xi Zhongxun, Jiang Zemin, Wang Zhen, Liu Shaoqi, He Lang, Chen Xi, Bo Yibo, Huang Jing, Yao Yilin, Zhou Jiannan, Chen Yun and the like forcing out the progressives and liberals around Wen Jiabao. What we see from the latest Politburo meeting is a wholesale purge and a veritable conservative coup. What is even more worrying is that our Russian sources, not as deep or detailed as Nightingale, are recording the same parallel development in Moscow—The "Siloviki" or the KGB alumni old guard restored to power under Putin have now forced out the liberals who were attached to Medvedev in his absence and there is a strong swing to the right there as well. Furthermore, from our Nightingale source, the minutes of the Politburo meeting make it clear that the Russian rightist Siloviki faction has been in close contact with the Chinese "Left" or Princeling faction under their new hawkish strongman, Minister Luo Chunwang, who has been elevated to head the Emergency Committee. It is clear that they are not only in intimate communication but that the reactionary factions in both countries are actively working in concert and in close consultation."

"Well it doesn't add up to anything good Endymion," responded C to Sir Endymion's revelations after a moment to catch his breath, "...That complicates immensely our job to do. I'll get down to see you shortly, and in the meantime keep me posted. Now we need to get our response started— get everybody relevant to this briefed, put the whole office on alert and instruct the relevant Controllerates that I want a comprehensive Intelligence Estimate on all this within 48 hours. I will meet you first thing this afternoon in the situation room. In the meantime I am going to get on to the secure phone to the Prime Minister and then to Joel Barlow and Washington and give them a heads up. If there is anything further breaking get me on the secure mobile." spitted out C, trying to catch up with his brain, which seemed to be speeding on before him.

Within five hours C had given a heads up to the Prime Minister and had briefed Joel Barlow, the London Station Chief of the CIA by secure encrypted telephone and had barricaded himself in his private offices at Vauxhall Cross. There he was briefed by his East Asia desk officer, the Eurasian Strategic Controllerate and Sir Endymion and then headed across to Whitehall for an emergency meeting of the JIC or Joint Intelligence Committee. At the COBRA command centre at the Cabinet Office they had a secure Audio/Video link to the National Security Council in Washington DC and were in ongoing consultations with the American DNI or Director of National Intelligence. The President and Prime Minister were standing by to join in as needed. The DNI was having the satellites re-tasked for updated satellite overhead aerials of Chinese and Russian troop movements towards the Iranian border.

"The overheads are just coming in with the technical analysis...Yes, we're picking them up now, we have, eighty, nearly one hundred trainloads on the tracks headed down the rail lines towards the border on the Russian side, with perhaps one hundred and twenty trainloads on the tracks headed across from Beijing via SCO tracks over West China, Russia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and the areas of the former USSR, en route from the Chinese side. It looks like the advance contingents detailed from the interrupted Maneuvers are already at the border and positioning themselves to receive the main forces in reinforcement. We have substantial Chinese and Russian air cover over the movements and the Russian and Chinese air forces have moved their key assets quickly into place in the old USSR bases. The worrisome thing is that the amount of assets mobilized and en route to the Theater seems disproportionate to any immediate need. Perhaps they are trying to up the ante to the Iranians to force their hand, or maybe it is an overly precautionary preparation for any adverse contingency. But their potential presence is bending the existing regional balance of forces out of equilibrium. Curiously, the Iranians are at full general mobilization but from the satellite overheads it seems they are lagging far behind in moving their forces towards their northern border areas. For some reason they seem to be holding back, perhaps they are contemplating a defense in depth, drawing the Russians and Chinese into their rugged terrain and then fighting a war of maneuver, a guerilla defense giving up territory but not blood until their adversaries are stretched too thin, though that was not their strategy in the Iraq war where they defended a virtual Maginot line to the death. Or maybe they are contemplating caving in at the last minute on the diplomatic side and are not taking the military threat that seriously." said the DNI, Admiral Dennis Orwell.

"What is the status of the American and Israeli forces?" asked C.

"The American Forces are at full alert, and we have air and naval and land reinforcements being tasked into the area. That said, in the wake of the Iraqi drawdown and fiasco we have pulled most of our major land-based assets out of the region over the last two years, some shifting to Afghanistan where they are substantially tied down and not prepared to launch out of country northward for anything like a Eurasian Theatre scale of action. Of course we have bunker busters and nuclear munitions in place on Diego Garcia but are trying to avoid any aggressive deployment that might lurch things out of control. The Israeli's are fully mobilized for dealing with the aftermath of the nuclear explosion and a lot of the IDF supreme command is for immediate nuclear and non-nuclear pre-emptive and retaliatory strikes into Iran, but we have been restraining the IDF rather severely, especially as their civilian leadership is defunct and we don't want a wide-ranging blow-up unless and until we can comprehend and deal with the consequences" replied the DNI.

"We don't have anything in area militarily but we are ready to back you up diplomatically and logistically should push come to shove. We have our NATO presence to the Russian West of course as an ultimate resource. Sir Endymion has briefed you by flash traffic and encrypted documentation on our revelations regarding the power shifts in the Chinese Politburo and in the Kremlin bringing the Tai Zi Dang Princeling Party and the Siloviki former KGB apparatchiks into the driver's seat, purging out the liberals in both countries. So now we have to formulate our views of their long-term strategic intentions and the potential threat they might constitute to our common interests. Have you determined your take on it all or what line of response you are going to take?" queried C.

"We are still talking it over with the President, and he has ordered a snap SNIE, or Special National Intelligence Estimate on both the Israeli-Iranian end of the crisis and the potential Eurasian Strategic implications—but it is going to take some time to become coherent I am afraid. In the meantime we are moving every asset we have in the general direction of the region of potential conflict and making sure our strategic reserve is prepared to put pressure on the Russians and Chinese should they become too adventuristic. You could say that we are rather embarrassingly behind the curve of events or even caught somewhat with our pants down on how all this is developing and balling up and we are running hard to play catch-up... But welcome to the real world, gentlemen." replied Orwell.

Orwell, who was a retired Admiral and former commander of the US fleet and combined forces in the Pacific, Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf areas was, like the majority of the top men at the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, from a military background, reflecting a shift of power from the CIA to the Pentagon under the old administration and during the Iraq intervention. Orwell himself, however had been named as new DNI at the beginning of the administration of President Barret Osama, the nation's first minority President. Despite his military background, Orwell was reluctant to resort to military force and preferred peaceful or diplomatic resolutions of crises if possible, and even favoured actual disarmament if practicable in the real world. Plus, he suspected that the President was trying to live up to the ideal of the Nobel Peace Prize by subconsciously downgrading any resort to military force. Nonetheless, Orwell remained at root a geopolitical realist, and believed that real and credible military capability and even the ample use of raw force on appropriate occasions was ultimately vital to preserving the balance of power and the world order upon which peace at least partially depended, and such force should be readied and used as needed to that end.

"We will hold on alert here following the situation until you can brief us further on the troop movements..." answered C, "...I have briefed Joel Barlow in confidence here on the nature of our source information, but we will have to keep the particulars of that close to our vest to prevent any possible compromise."

"Yes, we all quite understand. I will get back to you." Admiral Orwell responded.

After about an hour Admiral Orwell's face returned to the secure teleconferencing screen of the Joint Intelligence Committee COBRA operations room in London. He reported the decisions of the President in conference with the Secretaries of State and Defense.

"You may convey to your Prime Minister that for the moment the President has decided the American response will be primarily diplomatic rather than military in nature. He will ask your assistance in the Security Council to object to any armed intervention of the Chinese and Russians without prior Security Council authorization. He will mobilize and focus our armed presence in the area for any contingencies but not take any direct action against the Iranians by air or by any regular force intervention. We will keep our foot on the brakes with regard to the Israelis' response. We will be monitoring the status of the correlation of forces and seek to mobilize sufficient reserves to balance the increased SCO presence in the area. We will continue to monitor the situation and we invite any advice or assistance you may have for us in an ongoing way as the situation unfolds." briefed the Admiral.

# CHAPTER VI.

### Qom

### The Supreme Leader & The Three Messiahs

Finally, after many days of captivity Sartorius and the band of companions were again blindfolded and led through a maze of corridors, elevators, stairs and hallways to they knew not where. When they were released from their blindfolds they found themselves in the presence of a small party of men dining at a large ornate table in an underground room. Around the walls stood several armed guards at attention. Colonel Moussavi of the Quds Force gave him a profuse apology and regretted the measures taken for security reasons. Also present were Khlorinda and Mustafa, at whose side the also were surprised to see Baroness Maddox as she repeatedly leaned to whisper into Mustafa's ear, sharing confidences. Colonel Moussavi explained that he and Mustafa had attended the same seminary or madresseh, attached to the Haghani School in Qom under the leadership of the Ayatollah Yazdi and supported by the Supreme Leader as well, and that many of the higher officers and ministers of government, Revolutionary Guards and the military were graduates of that school, which had become one of the main centers in which promising young men found patrons, mentors and sponsors who might place them in the highest ranks of the Islamic Revolution. Some regarded the Haghani School as a kind of insider's Ecole Nationale d'Administration of the Military-Industrial-Theological Complex of the Islamic Revolution or perhaps an Islamic Oxbridge "Old Boy's Network." Others more addicted to conspiracy theories saw a sinister and undemocratic hand of the Haghani school behind many of the power plays behind the scenes, and others suspected it of a touch of even more sinister and suicidal addiction to a deranged theology of ushering in a Final Apocalypse. Others attributed the influence of the Haghani School in Iran, the Siloviki in Russia and the Taizi Dang, or Princeling Party in China to a conspiracy at a higher degree of cryptocracy, namely a shadowy elite, the alleged Axis of Synarchy, which was supposed to be behind all three phenomena. The Axis of Synarchy, according to this theory, sought to preserve the dominance of a cryptocratic elite in the name of a "harmonious society" as it was expressed in China, and most particularly one which would forever counter the thread of bourgeois individualism and the associated threat of "Anarchy." Though Colonel Moussavi acknowledged his fathering of the philosophy of Islamic Synarchy in several books and his participation in the Synarchist International which included many of the Siloviki and TaiziDang members who had written or spoken in a similar philosophical vein, he dismissed the allegations of a sinister arch-conspiracy as the ravings of deranged and paranoid sociopaths. Synarchists professed the organic unity of society and the necessary submission of all of its parts to the common will determined, as in Plato's Republic by an all-powerful elite; they advocated a corporatist government in the name of a harmonious integration of all social classes, legitimating in passing the existence and role of the dominant elites and the dominant social hierarchy, achieving thereby social peace and order. Colonel Moussavi said he was proud to be in the vanguard of the synarchist philosophical movement and praised Mustafa's dedication to the ideals and the practical struggle for global synarchism. After graduation from the Haghani School Mustafa had gone back to his country and then on to study at Cambridge. Colonel Moussavi had entered the elite Quds force and with the help of his mentors was advanced quickly into its senior officer ranks, eventually becoming an aide-de-camp to the Imam himself. The hosts entreated their involuntary guests to sit and have a cordial dinner. At the head of the table and seated a ceremonial distance from the others was a man of medium stature dressed as an Imam and with a long white beard and turban headdress. Mustafa presented him with a heavy dignity as the Supreme Leader.

To Sartorius' mind the Imam gazing at him from the opposite end of the long and thickly solid table was a massive stillness, an immobility. He was living stone. His great gnarled hands, granite-gray, rested heavily on the wings of his high-backed chair. His head, looking too large for the body beneath, lolled ponderously on the surprisingly scrawny neck that could just be glimpsed through the grey-black wisps of beard. The Imam's eyes were clouded; his lips did not move. His visage seemed pure force, an elemental being—he seeming to move without motion, act without doing, speak without uttering a sound.

The Supreme Leader was known for his aloofness and stern demeanor. He was said to have had variously inspired admiration, awe, and fear from those around him. His practice of moving through the halls of the madressehs and later the halls of government never smiling at anybody or anything, his practice of ignoring his audience while he taught, lectured or commanded, contributed to his charisma. In newspapers and eyewitness accounts of those who met with him face to face he was often described as "slim," but athletic and "heavily boned." He was known for his punctuality. He was regularly so punctual that if he doesn't turn up for lunch at exactly ten past everyone will get worried and a crisis of state will be feared, because his work is regulated in such a way that he turned up for lunch at exactly that time every day. He goes to bed exactly on time. He eats exactly on time. And he wakes up exactly on time. He changes his frock every time he comes back from the mosque. Though casual observers might see him as an old man frail with age, he had prided himself his long life long with the physical strength of his body, and for a man now in his nineties he looked and moved thirty years younger than his true age, though in any case still bearing the hallowed gravitas of his cumulative years crowned with his glorious white hair, beard and grizzled face.

The Supreme Leader adhered to traditional beliefs of Islamic cleanliness holding that non-Muslims—like urine, excrement, blood, wine, sweat, etc.—were one of eleven impure things contact with which required major ritual washing or Ghusl before prayer or Salah. He is reported to have refused to eat or drink in a restaurant unless he knew for sure the waiter was a Muslim. Sartorius noted that at the dinner table he maintained his distance from the foreign guests, though later he became more cordial, apologizing personally for the inconvenience they were suffering, assuring them of their safety and eventual safe return home as far as it was within his power, Inshallah, and deeply regretting the necessity which detained them. Towards the end of the dinner he listened with evident interest and gentleness as Mustafa introduced the guests and related aspects of their background. Through an interpreter he asked occasional questions of his guests and showed a refined appreciation of their talents and characteristics. He was genuinely respectful to Sartorius' accomplishments as a scholar, and he told him that he regretted that the responsibilities of office gave him so little time for his studies, research and writing, as well as his spiritual inquiries, which he felt as his real calling—his present position of national leadership he regretted out loud as "an accidental vocation" which the state of the world unhappily forced on him, alien to his true one. In the unexpected mixed company Sartorius and his colleagues were unsure of the rules of engagement and confined themselves to a polite interchange until they could be more sure of the ground on which they stood or how they might raise the question of their own plight.

The Imam, it was generally believed, had shown by his uncanny sweep to power, that he knew how to act in ways which others could not begin to understand. His timing was extraordinary, and his insight into the motivation of others, those around him as well as his enemies, could not be explained as ordinary knowledge. This emergent belief in the Supreme Leader as a divinely guided figure was carefully fostered by the clerics who supported him and spoke up for him in front of the people, but the charisma which gave rise to the intentional propaganda was observed and credited to him as palpably real even by his opponents and enemies.

On the return of the Imam from exile at the beginning of the Islamic Revolution tears of joy were shed and huge quantities of sweets and fruits were consumed as millions of people jumped for joy, shouting 'I've seen the Imam in the moon.' The event was celebrated in thousands of mosques with mullahs reminding the faithful that a sure sign of the coming of the Mahdi was that the sun would rise in the West. The Imam, representing the sun, at that time was in France and his face was shining in the moon like a sun. People were ready to swear on the Qur'an that they had seen the Imam's face in the moon. Even the Tudeh Party, the party of scientific socialism, shared in the enthusiasm. Its paper Navid wrote: 'Our toiling masses, fighting against world-devouring imperialism headed by the blood-sucking United States, have seen the face of their beloved Imam and leader, the Breaker of Idols, in the moon. A few pipsqueaks cannot deny what a whole nation has seen with its own eyes.'

Even many secularists who firmly disapproved of his policies were said to feel the power of his "messianic" appeal. Comparing him to a father figure who retains the enduring loyalty even of children he disapproves of, journalists wrote of the defenses of the Imam they heard in the most unlikely settings. A whiskey-drinking professor told an American journalist that the Imam brought pride back to Iranians. A women's rights activist in Iran, a Nobel Prize nominee, said that the Imam was not the problem; it was his conservative allies and unprincipled underlings who had directed him wrongly. A nationalist war veteran, who held Iran's ruling clerics in contempt, carried with him a picture of 'The Imam' and hung a larger one from the mirror of his automobile. Another journalist told the story of a wealthy Iranian woman, who following bitter criticism of the regime in which she tells him she wants her son to leave the country and repeatedly made the point that life had been better under the Shah, turns "ashen faced" and speechless upon hearing the rumor, later proved false, that the Imam might be dying, pronouncing 'this is terrible for my country.'

Though the Supreme Leader was immensely self-possessed and self-directed, regarded by most about him as almost descending from heaven when he arrived to take part in meetings and affairs, and capable of the most decisive and forceful actions and decisions in a moment of crisis, yet when matters became complex beyond his familiarity or practical depth, he was also known to be slow and systematic in familiarizing himself with details and in pondering and ruminating over the consequences of his possible decisions and actions. He seemed almost to embody the character of a prophet, not only in his occasional inwardnesses and withdrawals, but also in his capacity for inspiring others and leading decisive actions with his mere presence or tone of voice. Complexity, especially practical and worldly complexities, for him appeared always as a defeat: it checked or baffled his first impulses, which he trusted as being aligned with the higher power, and turned them into second thoughts. He found such realities which grew ever more and more numerous and burdensome with his involvement in the processes of actual applied government following the success of the Islamic Revolution, painful, like bumping one's head into an invisible glass wall. They unspokenly demanded a change of direction in him. These shifts, evasive and expedient at first, but later, nursing his pains, giving rise to a newer and broader consciousness of things, led almost against his will to adaptation, learning, and possibly growth, which sometimes surprised even himself in his older age. Such evolutionary turns—from first to second nature, from settled self to other, from leaps to judgment to mitigation, from forthright emotion to insight, notwithstanding his immense strength and self-direction and continuity of will, still occurred, though but occasionally in this hard and hardened man, even into his graying years.

When Mohammad was introduced to the Grand Imam by Mustafa and Colonel Moussavi they took care to point out his spiritual strivings in the Sufi order as well as his work with the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. They also mentioned that Mohammad wrote poetry and short stories. At this the Imam was enthusiastically interested, inquiring after his taste in poets and what the subject matter of his stories might be. They discovered they both took a delight in Hafiz and in Rumi and the Imam revealed a little known fact about himself, that he was himself a closet poet and had dreamed in his youth of becoming a writer. He informed Mohammad that after dinner many evenings he convened a kind of literary salon in his private chambers to listen to poets and writers read their poetry and stories, and that he would be honored if he would join Miss Khlorindah, who was this evening to recite some of her poems and sing songs she had written, in honoring him with one or more of his works. Mohammad said that he was delighted to find that His Eminence the Imam was an appreciative enthusiast over literature, but he warned him that he might not find his works to his liking, as he could not approve the repression of the freedom of conscience and expression that he observed to reign in this country, amoung many others, with regard to writers and thinkers, and that he might find his views on the free development of the human spirit beyond the pale of orthodoxy.

To Mohammad's surprise, and to the surprise of all present, including Colonel Moussavi and the other aides who were used to his daily manners, the Imam laughed, which he was seldom observed to do, and spoke sharply but with a certain equanimity: "Yes, we are reactionary, and you are Age of Enlightenment intellectuals: You intellectuals do not want us to go back 1400 years. You, who want freedom, freedom for everything, the freedom of parties, you who want all the freedoms— you intellectuals, freedoms of lifestyle, of action, of ideas and expression: freedom that will corrupt our youth, freedom that will pave the way for the oppressor, freedom that will drag our nation to the bottom...You are young and imagine that this is something new on earth, but we who are old have lived through the twenties and forties and it is all an old story. What is the saying—There is nothing new under the sun. The only new thing in the world is the history you do not know. Perhaps it is only after your forties and fifties that you will wake up and separate cant from reality, and then, Inshallah, you will join me in breaking the teeth of those intellectual fops mouthing their saccharine cant. Yes, I invite you to join our literary party and I grant you amnesty in advance for anything you might say—don't imagine I haven't heard it all before or that I am going to have a heart attack of surprise or conscience over it. But I like to hear from young men of spirit and honesty, even if they renounce me. It keeps my mind young though my body may be old. So come tonight and bring your manuscript and read it aloud for me, after I listen to Miss Khlorindah's poems and songs you shall have my literary ear. Colonel Moussavi will make the arrangements. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I must go to my rooms and take a post-prandial nap prior to receiving you. When one is past ninety unfortunately one must conserve one's energy more than in younger years."

When Mohammad entered the private quarters of the Supreme Leader attached to the deeply buried command facilities of the underground complex in which they found themselves, he was escorted to a sitting room in which were assembled a small company of about a dozen. Khlorindah was already reciting some of her poems as he entered, seated on a large easy-chair opposite the Imam, who made himself comfortable stretched out on a low ottoman beneath a hanging Persian carpet in purples and scarlet featuring a pericope of Islamic calligraphy. Her dark limpid eyes invited absorption as the haunting verses tumbled from her lips. Mohammad sat himself in a corner of the room and took in the company as they responded to her voice with nods and occasional sighs of enthusiasm or delight. Then she moved to the other end of the room where was seated a musician in a jellaba with a gaspa flute. As the flute began to flutter from note to haunting note she began to sing Rai tunes, raising the emotional pitch of the gathering, then setting it softly back to earth with a note of melancholy and huzun.

After the song ended Khlorindah bowed modestly to the enthusiastic applause of the small company and set herself down in an empty chair next to Mohammad. Then Colonel Moussavi rose and introduced Mohammad, informing them that the Imam had invited him to share his manuscript of his new short story which he had recently completed, and that Mohammad had been so kind and gracious as to accept the invitation to read it aloud for their enjoyment and enlightenment. Then he escorted Mohammad from the corner of the room to the seat of honour in front of the Imam's ottoman. Mohammad bowed before the Imam before seating himself and taking his manuscript from the small carrying case he had been given.

"Quite impossible, as you see, to start without an introduction," laughed Mohammad. "Well, then, I mean to place the event described in the poem in the intermediate future—several decades at least beyond our present—Already the Islamic Revolution has progressed and the bulk of the Middle-East has been long united into a United Islamic Republic under the leadership of the Supreme Leader who now functions as a kind of Caliph of the entire region, a leader of the faithful. I call it a poem, or a Parable, though it is composed in prose rather than verse. I haven't fixed on a final title for it yet, but most likely is The Parable of the Three Messiahs. In any case the idea is that it takes place after the Islamic Revolution has attained its aim and the whole region is united under the guidance of the Supreme Leader and administered through the ulama—the assemblies and institutions of the clerics, ayatollahs, mullahs and Shariah courts which follow his guidance and command. In such a day there arrives visiting on earth the Mahdi, "The Guided One" who the Westerners compare to their concept of the Messiah and of the Second Coming of Christ as foretold in their Book of Revelations. On this visit the Mahdi has emerged momentarily from his occultation as the 12th Imam and has come to walk again in the world of men, partially to relieve the loneliness of the occultation and partially for a kind of reconnaissance in preparation for the distant Yahm al-Quiyamah or "Day of the Resurrection," the day of Advent and of the final Revelation being still not yet immanent. 'Of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven but Allah only' mused the Mahdi, but he had, nevertheless, a longing to again stretch his legs upon the firm soil of the earth, so missed in his occultation while the ummah waited their centuries in expectation of his final return. No, this once, before those prophesized apocalyptic events the Mahdi wished to walk amoung men unknown to learn incognito the truths of their lives, like the nocturnal perambulations of the Caliph Haroun al-Rashid in the Alf Layla Wa Layla, the Thousand and One Nights, naked of the burden and enforced separation imposed by his exalted position—he wished for a renewed communion with earthly life. Thus he walked on the streets of Teheran, capital of the newly formed United Islamic Republic stretching from India to Egypt, taking in the sights of children at play skipping rope, mothers shopping for vegetables and young men eagerly awaiting trysts in dark gardens with their veiled beloveds. He was joined in his walk through this living genre painting by two companions cloaked in similar incognito, Jesus Christ—foretold in the Koran (Sura 43:61) to accompany the Mahdi in the last days of the apocalyptic advent, and by the Maitreya, their Eastern cousin Messiah of the final days. Thus, arm in arm and savouring the piebald beauty of the sights of the things of this world the Three Messiahs strolled through the streets of Teheran. They made their way through the mazes of streets until they came to the center of the city, where they witnessed over one hundred heretics and adulteresses being burned or stoned to death around the Azadi Tower, and witnessed a chief offender amoung them being cast to the ground enveloped in the flames of his gasoline-soaked frock, from atop the top of the spire of the Milad Tower.

As the Mahdi walked through the thronging crowds gathered to witness these events, try as they might to guard their anonymity, all—yea, how strange, all—all recognize Him at once! The population rushes towards Him as if propelled by some irresistible force; it surrounds, throngs, and presses around, it follows Him... Silently, and with a smile, compassionate and merciful as that of Allah himself upon His lips, He crosses the dense crowd, and the figure of medium stature and handsome face moves softly on stroking his longish hair and black beard, followed by his two silent companions walking behind him. The crowd gazes on his broad forehead, prominent nose and the seemingly natural mascara which rings his tender eyes, lit with an inexplicable light, and dozens swear to have seen his face in the fullness of the moon. Others swear to have seen a star with a luminous tail rising from the east. Compassion and Mercy burn in His heart, and warm rays of Light, Wisdom and Power beam forth from His eyes, and pour down their waves upon the swarming multitudes of the rabble assembled around, making their hearts vibrate with returning love. He extends His hands over their heads, blesses them, and from mere contact with Him, aye, even with the hem of His garments, a healing power goes forth. An old man, blind from his birth, cries, 'Lord, heal me, that I may see Thee!' and the scales falling off the closed eyes, the blind man beholds Him...The crowd weeps for joy, and kisses the ground upon which He treads. Children strew flowers along His path and sing to Him, 'Allahu Akbar!' It is He, it is Himself, they say to each other, the Mahdi, it must be He, it can be none other but He! Passing through the thronged Bazaar he pauses at the portal of the old Imam Khomeyni Mosque, just as a wee white coffin is carried in, with tears and great lamentations. The lid is off, and in the coffin lies the body of a fair-child, seven years old, the only child of an eminent citizen of the city. The little corpse lies buried in flowers. 'He will raise the child to life!' confidently shouts the crowd to the weeping mother, 'Did not the Prophet Split the Moon before the Quresh and gallop Al-Buraq through the heavens in a single night?" The officiating mullah who had come to meet the funeral procession, looks perplexed, and frowns. A loud cry is suddenly heard, and the bereaved mother prostrates herself at His feet. 'If it be Thou, then bring Thou back my child to life!' she cries beseechingly. The procession halts, and the little coffin is gently lowered at his feet. Divine compassion beams forth from His eyes, and as He looks at the girl-child, then he looks behind to his companions. The three of them lay hands upon the tiny corpse. His lips are heard to whisper once more, 'Allahu Akbar' —and straightway the damsel arose. The child rises in her coffin. Her little hands still hold the nosegay of white roses which after death was placed in them, and, looking round with large astonished black eyes she smiles sweetly ... The crowd is violently excited. A terrible commotion rages among them, the populace shouts and loudly weeps, when suddenly, the massive main door of the great mosque opens and there appears the Supreme Leader himself...He is a tall, gaunt-looking old man of nearly four-score years and ten, with a stern, withered face, and deeply sunken eyes, from the cavity of which glitter two fiery sparks. He has laid aside his gorgeous Imam's robes in which he had appeared before the people at the executions of the enemies of the Islamic Revolution that morning, and is now clad in his old, rough mullah's frock. His sullen assistants and bodyguards of the 'Revolutionary Guards Quds Force' are following at a distance. He pauses before the crowd and observes. He has seen all. He has witnessed the placing of the little coffin at His feet, the calling back to life. And now, his dark, grim face has grown still darker; his bushy grey eyebrows nearly meet, and his sunken eye flashes with sinister light. Slowly raising his finger, he commands his minions to arrest Him...

Such is his power over the well-disciplined, submissive and now trembling people, that the thick crowds immediately give way, and scattering before the Revolutionary Guards, amid dead silence and without one breath of protest, allowing them to lay their sacrilegious hands upon the three Strangers and lead the Mahdi away with his two companion Messiahs... That same populace, like one man, now bows its head to the ground before the Imam, who blesses it and slowly moves onward. The Revolutionary Guards conduct their prisoners into a police van which takes them away to the looming mass of Evin Prison; then pulling them from the vehicle and pushing them into a narrow, gloomy, vaulted prison-cell. They lock them in and retire...

The day wanes, and night—a dark, hot breathless Iranian late-summer night—creeps out and settles upon the city of Teheran. The air smells of laurels and orange blossoms. In the looming darkness behind the immensely thick walls of Evin prison the iron door of their cell is suddenly thrown open, and the Supreme Leader, holding a dark lantern, slowly stalks into the dungeon. He is alone, and, as the heavy door closes behind him, he pauses at the threshold, and, for a minute or two, silently and gloomily scrutinizes the three Faces before him. At last approaching with measured steps, he sets his lantern down upon the table and addresses Him in these words:

"'It is Thou! ... Thou!' ... Receiving no reply, he rapidly continues: 'Nay, answer not; be silent! ... And what couldst Thou say? ... I know but too well Thy answer... Besides, Thou hast no right to add one syllable to that which was already uttered by Allah's Messenger and the Eleven Immams before Thee... Why shouldst Thou now return, to impede us in our work? For Thou hast come but for that only, and Thou knowest it well. But art Thou as well aware of what awaits Thee in the morning? I do not know, nor do I care to know who thou mayest be: be it Thou or only thine subversive image, to-morrow I will condemn and throw Thee aflame from the Milad spire and stone your companions to death before the Azadi Tower, as the most wicked of all the heretics; and that same people, who to-day were kissing Thy feet, to-morrow at one bend of my finger, will rush to add fuel to burn your broken bones and limbs to spent ashes. Wert Thou aware of this when you came?' he adds, speaking as if in solemn thought, and never for one instant taking his piercing glance off the meek Face before him nor those of His two Brothers beside Him..."

"I can hardly realize the situation described in your fantastic fable—what is all

this, Mohammad?" suddenly interrupted Khlorindah, who had remained silently listening to her brother guest at the Imam's literary salon. "Is this an extravagant fancy, some perversion of faith or some mistake of the old man, your future Supreme Leader?" she asked incredulously.

"Let it be the latter, if you like," laughed Muhammad, "since modern realism has so perverted your taste that you feel unable to realize anything from the world of fancy... Let it be a flawed psychological idiosyncrasy. Again, the future Supreme Leader is ninety years old, and he might have easily gone mad with his one idée fixe of power; or, it might have as well been a delirious vision, called forth by his fancy inflamed by his own impending inevitable death of which he is only too acutely well aware, overheated by the mass executions of the hundred un-Islamic heretics of that forenoon... But what matters for the poem which? The question is, that the old man has to open his heart; that he must give out his thought at last; and that the hour has come when he does speak it out, and says loudly that which for ninety years he has kept secret within his own breast."

"And his prisoners, does the Mahdi never reply, nor his companion Messiahs? Do they keep silent, looking at him, without saying a word?" asked Khlorindah, incredulously, the gap in verisimilitude exasperating her patience in following the story.

"Of course; and it could not well be otherwise," again retorted Mohammad. The Supreme Leader begins from his very first words by telling the Mahdi and his companions that He has no right to add one syllable to that which has been said in scripture before. Clearly whatever has been needed to say or do has been accomplished in the past centuries ago and there is no need for any living deeds or words to follow; it is only for the living to follow the words already written and yield wholly to the authority of the keepers of the words and not any more for the words to follow the living. The lips of the living need mouth only the words of the dead, as the hands of the living must needs only puppet by their strings the hands and deeds of the dead. All has been given over to the book and the interpreters of the book, the lemma of which he is the unquestioned and authoritative head. To make the situation clear at once, the above preliminary monologue is intended to convey to the reader the very fundamental idea which underlies Velayat-e Faqih—as well as I can convey it; his words mean, in short: 'Everything was given over by Allah to the Book of the Past, its Law and its Keepers—the ulama and their Supreme Leader—and everything now rests with him alone; Thou the living spirit hast no business to return and thus hinder us in our work.' In this sense the ulama and the mullahs not only talk but write likewise.

"'Hast thou the right to divulge to us a single one of the mysteries of that world whence Thou comest?' enquires of Him my old Supreme Leader, and forthwith answers for Him. Nay, Thou has no such right. For, that would be adding to that which was already

said before; hence depriving people of that freedom for which Thou hast so stoutly stood up while yet on earth...Anything new that Thou would now proclaim would have to be regarded as an attempt to interfere with that freedom of choice—the choice of accepting or rejecting in toto, a fait accompli, the Book and the Faith—as it would come as a new and a miraculous revelation superseding the old revelation of fourteen hundred years ago, when your Messenger Razul didst re-echo and reaffirm the companion Messenger on your right hand, so repeatedly telling the people: "The truth shall make you free."

Behold then, Thy "free" people now!' adds the old man with somber irony. 'Yea!... it has cost us dearly.' he continues, sternly looking at his victim. 'But we have at last accomplished our task, and—in Allah's name... For fourteen long centuries we had to toil and suffer owing to that "freedom:" but now we have prevailed and our work is done, and well and strongly it is done...Believest not Thou it is so very strong? ... And why should Thou look at me so meekly as if I were not worthy even of Thy indignation?... Know then, that now, and only now, Thy people feel fully sure and satisfied of their freedom; and that, only since they have themselves and of their own free will delivered that freedom unto our hands, into the hands of the ulama, by placing it submissively at our feet. But then, that is what we have done. Is it that which Thou has striven for? Is this the kind of "freedom" Thou has promised them?'"

"Now again, I do not understand," interrupted Khlorindah. "Does the old man mock and laugh?"

"Not in the least. He seriously regards it as a great service done by himself, his brother mullahs, ayatollahs, Imams, and judges to humanity, to have conquered and subjected unto their authority that freedom, and boasts that it was done but for the good of the world. 'For only now,' my future Supreme Leader goes on to say (speaking of the consequences of the Islamic Revolution) 'has it become possible to us, for the first time, to give a serious thought to human happiness. Man is born a rebel, and can rebels be ever happy?... Thou and thy Brother had been fairly warned of it, but evidently to no use, since Thou hast rejected the only means which could make mankind happy; fortunately at Thy occultation Thou hast delivered the task to us... Thou hast promised, ratifying the pledge by Thy own words, in words giving us the right to bind and unbind... and surely, Thou couldst not think of depriving us of it now!'"

"But what can he mean by the words, 'Thou has been fairly warned'?" asked Khlorindah.

"These words give the key to what the old Iman has to say for his justification... But listen—"'The terrible and wise spirit, the spirit of self-annihilation and non-being,' goes on the Imam, my future Supreme Leader, 'the great spirit of negation conversed with Thy Brother Messiah in the wilderness, and we are told that he "tempted" Him... Was it so? And if it were so, then it is impossible to utter anything more truthful than what is contained in his three offers, which Thou, Brother Messiah, didst reject, and which are usually called "Temptations." Yea; if ever there was on earth a genuine striking wonder produced beyond the Rasul's Splitting of the Moon and the recitation of the scriptur, it was on that day of Thy Brother Messiah's three temptations, and it is precisely in these three short sentences that the marvelous miracle is contained. If it were possible that they should vanish and disappear forever, without leaving any trace, from the record and from the memory of man, and that it should become necessary again to devise, invent, and make them reappear in Thy history once more, thinkest Thou that all the world's sages, all the legislators, initiates, philosophers and thinkers, if called upon to frame three questions which should, like these, besides answering the magnitude of the event, express in three short sentences the whole future history of this our world and of mankind—dost Thou believe, I ask Thee, that all their combined efforts could ever create anything equal in power and depth of thought to the three propositions offered Thee by the powerful and all-wise spirit in the wilderness? Judging of them by their marvelous aptness alone, one can at once perceive that they emanated not from a finite, terrestrial intellect, but indeed, from the Eternal and the Absolute. In these three offers we find, blended into one and foretold to us, the complete subsequent history of man; we are shown three images, so to say, uniting in them all the future axiomatic, insoluble problems and contradictions of human nature, the world over. In those days, the wondrous wisdom contained in them was not made so apparent as it is now, for futurity remained still veiled; but now, when fourteen centuries have elapsed since the departure of the great Messenger who prophesized the Mahdi's return with the return of the Christ at his right hand, we see that everything in these three questions is so marvelously foreseen and foretold, that to add to, or to take away from, the prophecy one jot, would be absolutely impossible!

"'Decide then thyself.' sternly proceeded the Inquisitor, 'which of ye two parties was right, that of the Tempter or that of the Messiahs: Thou who didst reject, or he who offered? Remember the subtle meaning of question the first, which runs thus: 'Wouldst Thou go into the world empty-handed?' Would Thou venture thither with Thy vague and undefined promise of freedom, which men, dull and unruly as they are by nature, are unable somuch as to understand, which they avoid and fear?—for never was there anything more unbearable to the human race than personal freedom! Dost Thou see these stones in the desolate and glaring wilderness? Command that these stones be made bread—and mankind will run after Thee, obedient and grateful like a herd of cattle. But even then it will be ever diffident and trembling, lest Thou should take away Thy hand, and they lose thereby their bread! Thou didst refuse to accept the offer for fear of depriving men of their free choice; for where is there freedom of choice where men are bribed with bread? 'Man shall not live by bread alone'— was Thy Brother Messiah's answer.

Oh, never, never, will they learn to feed themselves without our help! No science will ever give them bread so long as they remain free, so long as they refuse to lay that freedom at our feet, and say: "Enslave, but feed us!—Feed our bellies and our brains—Take away this cruel necessity to think and weigh and freely choose the good over evil only by the anguished guidance of the clouded heart and mind." That day must come when men will understand that freedom and daily bread enough to satisfy all are unthinkable and can never be had together, as men will never be able to fairly divide the two among themselves. And they will also learn that they can never be free, for they are weak, vicious, miserable nonentities born wicked and rebellious. Thou hast promised to them the bread of life, the bread of heaven; but I ask Thee again, can that bread ever equal in the sight of the weak and the vicious, the ever ungrateful human race, their daily bread on earth? And even supposing that thousands and tens of thousands follow Thee in the name of, and for the sake of, Thy heavenly bread, what will become of the millions and hundreds of millions of human beings too weak to scorn the earthly for the sake of Thy heavenly bread? Or is it but those tens of thousands chosen among the great and the mighty, that are so dear to Thee, while the remaining millions, innumerable as the grains of sand in the seas, the weak and the loving, have to be used as material cannon fodder for the former? No, no! In our sight and for our purpose the weak and the lowly are the more dear to us. True, they are vicious and rebellious, but we will force them into obedience, and it is they who will admire us the most. They will regard us as gods, and feel grateful to those who have consented to lead the masses and bear their burden of freedom by ruling over them—so terrible will that freedom at last appear to men! Then we will tell them that it is in obedience to Allah's will and in His name that we rule over them, and that it is in submission to His jabr that they obey us. We will deceive them once more and lie to them once again—for never, never more will we allow Thee and thy Brothers of the Living Spirit to come among us. In this deception we will find our suffering, for we must needs lie eternally, and never cease to lie! "Such is the secret meaning of "Temptation" the first, and that is what Thy Brother Messiah didst reject in the wilderness for the sake of that freedom which Thou didst prize above all. Meanwhile Thy Tempter's offer contained another great world-mystery. By accepting the "bread," Thou wouldst have satisfied and answered a universal craving, a ceaseless longing alive in the heart of every individual human being, lurking in the breast of collective mankind, that most perplexing problem—"whom or what shall we worship?" There exists no greater or more painful anxiety for a man who has freed himself from all religious bias, than how he shall soonest find a new object or idea to worship. But man seeks to bow before that only which is recognized by the greater majority, if not by all his fellow-men, as having a right to be worshipped; whose rights are so unquestionable that men agree unanimously to bow down to it. For the chief concern of these miserable creatures is not to find and worship the idol of their own choice, but to discover that which all others will believe in, and consent to bow down to in a mass. It is that instinctive need of having a worship in common that is the chief suffering of every man, the chief concern of mankind from the beginning of times. It is for that universality of religious worship that people destroyed each other by sword. Creating gods unto themselves, they forwith began appealing to each other: "Abandon your deities, come and bow down to ours, or death to ye and your idols!" And so will they do till the end of this world; they will do so even then, when all the gods themselves have disappeared, for then men will prostrate themselves before and worship some idea. Thou didst know, Thou couldst not be ignorant of, that mysterious fundamental principle in human nature, and still thou hast rejected the only absolute banner offered Thee, to which all the nations would remain true, and before which all would have bowed—the banner of earthly bread, rejected in the name of freedom and of "bread and manna in the kingdom of Allah"! Behold, then, what Thou hast done furthermore for that "freedom's" sake! I repeat to Thee, man has no greater anxiety in life than to find someone to whom he can make over that gift of freedom with which the unfortunate creature is born. Let my people go! Set my people free of that most terrible gift! But he alone will prove capable of silencing and quieting their consciences, that shall succeed in possessing himself of the freedom of men. With "daily bread" an irresistible power was offered Thee: show a man "bread" and he will follow Thee, for what can he resist less than the attraction of bread? But if, at the same time, another succeed in possessing himself of his conscience—oh! then even Thy bread will be forgotten, and man will follow him who seduced his conscience. So far Thou wert right. For the mystery of the human being does not solely rest in the desire to live, but in the problem—for what should one live at all? Without a clear perception of his reasons for living, man will never consent to live, and will rather destroy himself than tarry on earth, though he be surrounded with bread. This is the truth. But what has happened? Instead of getting hold of man's freedom, Thou has enlarged it still more! Hast Thou again forgotten that to man rest and even death are preferable to a free choice between the knowledge of Good and Evil? Nothing seems more seductive in his eyes than freedom of conscience, and nothing proves more painful. And behold! Instead of laying a firm foundation whereon to rest once for all man's conscience, Thou hast chosen to stir up in him all that is abnormal, mysterious, and indefinite, all that is beyond human strength, and has acted as if Thou never hadst any love for him, and yet Thou wert He who came to "Lay Forth His life for Salvation of His friends!" Thou hast burdened man's soul with anxieties hitherto unknown to him. Thirsting for human love freely given, seeking to enable man, seduced and charmed by Thee, to follow Thy path of his own free-will, instead of the old and wise law of chastisement which held him in subjection, Thou hast given him the right henceforth to choose and freely decide what is good and bad for him, guided but by Allah's image in his heart. But hast Thou never dreamt of the probability, nay, of the certainty, of that same man one day rejected finally, and controverting even Allah's image and Thy truth, once he would find himself laden with such a terrible burden as freedom of choice? Why hast Thou harrowed Laplace's Demon but left man, whom he might have delivered, in Hell? That a time would surely come when men would exclaim that Truth and Light cannot be in Thee, for no one could have left them in a greater perplexity and mental suffering than Thou has done, lading them with so many cares and insoluble problems. Thus, it is Thyself who hast laid the foundation for the destruction of Thine own kingdom and no one but Thou is to be blamed for it.

And Thou, cousin Maitreya, you came so many incarnations ago as the Buddha, the Great Liberator of mankind from endless Suffering as the plaything of Desire and Illusion. You also promised to set him free from his suffering into a Nirvana of immutable Truth. But if Man was so unequal to the burden of Freedom, and its choice between good and evil, then how much more was he incapable of lifting the weight of Illusionless Truth! Thou didst counsel 'Abandon all Desire,' for it is the engine and root of all suffering and the Mother of Illusion. But thoughtest Thou that weak and needful man was capable of renouncing his dearest dreams and desires without renouncing life itself? If you did Thou hast erred most egregiously and fruitlessly compounded the unbearable burden upon fragile man and woman, extinguishing the root of their every happiness and consolation! Thou hast compounded his suffering and unhappiness by taking away even the illusory joys of his delusions. Thou hadst promised that the Truth should set him free, but what man could be strong enough to live without Illusion? Nay! Man lives only by, for and through his illusions—Truth is Death! Death to the Truth! Long live Life—Long live Delusion! Wilst you also come back to hinder our work? Wilst Thou burden suffering man and woman with the unbearable choice between truths and illusions—insufferably beyond their strength? Nay! Give the Children their Fairy Tales and their God in Heaven and their Myths to live by! Take your Truth and your Freedom from Desire and Delusion away back to your Nothingness!—the Human Heart can bear none of them!

"'Meantime, every chance of success was offered Thee which but Thou Three so coarsely rejected. There are three Powers, three unique Forces upon earth, capable of conquering forever by charming the conscience of these weak rebels—Men—for their own good; and these Forces are: Miracle, Mystery and Authority. Thou hast rejected all the three, and thus wert the first to set them an example. When the terrible and all-wise spirit placed Thy Brother Messiah on a pinnacle of the temple and said unto Him, "If Thou be the son of God, cast Thyself down, for it is written, He shall give His angels charge concerning Thee: and in their hands they shall bear Thee up, lest at any time Thou dash Thy foot against a stone!"—for thus Thy faith in Allah should have been made evident, Thou didst refuse to accept his suggestion and didst not follow it. Oh, undoubtedly, Thou didst act in this with all the magnificent pride of a god, but then Men—that weak and rebel race—are they also gods, to understand Thy refusal? Of course, Thou didst well know that by taking one single step forward, by making the slightest motion to throw Thyself down, Thou wouldst have tempted "the Lord Thy God," lost suddenly all faith in Him, and dashed Thyself to atoms against that same earth which Thou camest to save, and thus wouldst have allowed the wise spirit which tempted Thee to triumph and rejoice. But, then, how many such as Thee are to be found on this globe, I ask Thee? Couldst Thou ever for a moment imagine that men would have the same strength to resist such a temptation? Is human nature calculated to reject miracle, and trust, during the most terrible moments in life, when the most momentous, painful and perplexing problems struggle within man's soul, to the free decisions of his heart for the true solution? Oh, Thou knewest well that that action of Thine would remain recorded in books for ages to come, reaching to the confines of the globe, and Thy hope was, that following Thy example, man would remain true to his God, without needing any miracle to keep his faith alive! But Thou knewest not, it seems, that no sooner would man reject miracle than he would reject God likewise or worship the miracles of a science that could pretend to rival and surpass your higher miracles, for he seeketh less God than "a sign" from Him. And thus, as it is beyond the power of man to remain without miracles, so, rather than live without, he will create for himself new wonders of his own making; and he will bow to and worship the soothsayer's miracles, the old witch's sorcery and Tarot, were he a rebel, a heretic, and an atheist a hundred times over. Thy Brother Messiah's refusal to come down from the cross when people, mocking and wagging their heads were saying to Thee—"Save Thyself if Thou be the son of God, and we will believe in Thee," was due to the same determination—not to enslave man through miracle, but to obtain faith in Thee freely and apart from any miraculous influence. Thou thirstest for free and uninfluenced love, and refusest the passionate adoration of the slave, the forced harlot or prostitute before a Potency which would have subjected their will unfreely once and for ever. Thou judgest of men too highly here, again, for though rebels they be, they are born slaves and nothing more. Behold, and judge of them once more, now that fourteen centuries have elapsed since the last Messenger, Razul Allah. Look at them, whom Thou didst try to elevate unto Thee! I swear man is weaker and lower than Thou hast ever imagined him to be! Can he ever do that which Thou art said to have accomplished? By valuing him so highly Thou hast acted as if there were no love for him in Thine heart, for Thou hast demanded of him more than he could ever give—Thou, who lovest him more than Thyself! Hadst Thou esteemed him less, less wouldst Thou have demanded of him, and that would have been more like love, for his burden would have been made thereby lighter. Man is weak and cowardly. What matters it, if he now riots and rebels throughout the world against our will and power, and prides himself upon that rebellion? It is but the petty pride and vanity of a school-boy. It is the rioting of little children, getting up a mutiny in the class-room and driving their schoolmaster out of it.—You have seen the movie "If?"—But it will not last long, and when the day of their triumph is over, they will have to pay dearly for it. They will destroy the temples and raze them to the ground, flooding the earth with blood. But the foolish children will have to learn some day that, rebels though they be and riotous from nature, they are too weak to maintain the spirit of mutiny for any length of time. Suffused with idiotic tears, they will confess that He who created them rebellious and free undoubtedly did so but to mock them. They will pronounce these words in despair, and such blasphemous utterances will but add to their misery—for human nature cannot endure blasphemy, and takes her own revenge in the end. "'And thus, after all Thou has suffered for mankind and its freedom, the present fate of men may be summed up in three words: Unrest, Confusion, Misery! Thy great Brother Prophet John records in his vision, that he saw, during the first resurrection of the chosen servants of God—"the number of them which were sealed" in their foreheads, "twelve thousand" of every tribe. But were they, indeed, as many? Then they must have been gods, not men. They had shared holy Martyrdom for long years, suffered scores of years' hunger and thirst in dreary wildernesses and deserts, feeding upon locusts and roots—and of these children of free love for Thee, and self-sacrifice in Thy name, Thou mayest well feel proud. But remember that these are but a few thousands—of gods, not men; and how about all others? And why should the weakest be held guilty for not being able to endure what the strongest have endured? Why should a soul incapable of containing such terrible gifts be punished for its weakness? Didst Thou really come to, and for, the "elect" alone? If so, then the mystery will remain forever mysterious to our finite minds. And if a mystery, then were we right to proclaim it as one, and preach it, teaching them that neither their freely given love to Thee nor freedom of conscience were essential, but only that incomprehensible mystery which they must blindly obey even against the dictates of their conscience. Thus did we. We corrected and improved Thy teaching and based it upon "Miracle, Mystery, and Authority." And men rejoiced at finding themselves led once more like a herd of cattle, and at finding their hearts at last delivered of the terrible burden laid upon them by Thee, which caused them so much suffering. Tell me, were we right in doing as we did? Did not we show our great love for humanity, by realizing in such a humble spirit its helplessness, by so mercifully lightening its great burden, and by permitting and remitting for its weak nature every Sin, every baseless Illusion, provided it be committed with our Authorization? For what, then, hast Thou come again to trouble us in our work and set the free spirit in contention with the fixed word and authority of the written Book and the ulama and Caliphate its keepers? And why lookest Thou at me so penetratingly with Thy meek eyes, and in such a silence? Rather shouldst Thou feel wroth, for I need not Thy love, I reject it, and love Thee not, myself. Why should I conceal the truth from Thee? I know but too well with whom I am now talking! What I had to say was known to Thee before, I read it in Thine eye. How should I conceal from Thee our secret? If perchance Thou wouldst hear it from my own lips, then listen: We are not with Thee, but with him, and that is our secret! For centuries have we abandoned Thee to follow him, yes—eight centuries. Twelve of occlusion, Fourteen hundred years now since we accepted from him the gift rejected by Thy Brother with indignation—the Caliphate, the power of Caesar, universal Dominion; that last gift which he offered Thee from the high mountain when, showing all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, he saith unto Thee:"All these things will I give Thee, if Thou will fall down and worship me!" We took Byzantium from him and the glaive of Caesar, and declared ourselves, Ulama and Caliph, alone the kings of this earth, its sole kings, though our work is not yet fully accomplished. But who is to blame for it? Our work is but in its incipient stage, but it is nevertheless started. We may have long to wait until its culmination, and mankind have to suffer much, but we shall reach the goal some day, and become sole Caesars, Caliphs, Universal Imams and Ulama, and then will be the time to think of universal happiness for men.

"'Thou couldst accept the glaive of Caesar, and of the Caliphate and of Alexander and Qin Shihuangdi and of the Great Khan Thyself; why didst Thou reject the offer? By accepting from the powerful spirit his third offer Thou wouldst have realized every aspiration man seeketh for himself on earth; man would have found a constant object for worship; one to deliver his conscience up to, and one that should unite all together into one common and harmonious ant-hill; for an innate necessity for universal union constitutes the third and final affliction of mankind. Humanity as a whole has ever aspired to unite itself universally. Many were, the great nations with great histories, but the greater they were, the more unhappy they felt, as they felt the stronger necessity of a universal union among men. Great conquerors, like Timoor and Tchengis-Khan, Alexander, Ashoka, Napoleon and Qin Shi Huangdi passed like a cyclone upon the face of the earth in their efforts to conquer the universe, but even they, albeit unconsciously, expressed the same aspiration towards universal and common union. In accepting the kingdom of the world and Caesar's purple, one would found a universal kingdom and secure to mankind eternal peace. And who can rule mankind better than those who have possessed themselves of man's conscience, and hold in their hand man's daily bread? Having accepted Caesar's glaive and purple, we had, of course, but to deny Thee and the subversions of thy Brothers of the Spirit, to henceforth follow him alone. Oh, centuries of intellectual riot and rebellious free thought are yet before us, and their science will end by anthropophagy, for having begun to build their Babylonian tower without our help they will have to end by and by in cannibalism. But it is precisely at that time that the Beast will crawl up to us in full submission, and lick the soles of our feet, and sprinkle them with tears of blood and we shall sit upon the scarlet-colored Beast, in common saddle with Laplace's Demon, and lifting up high the golden cup "full of abomination and filthiness," shall show written upon it the word "Mystery!" But it is only then that men will see the beginning of a kingdom of peace and happiness. Thou art proud of Thine own elect, but Thou has none other but these elect, but a thin aristocracy of the spirit, and we—we will give rest to all. But that is not the end. Many are those among thine elect and the laborers of Thy Vineyard, who, tired of waiting for Thy coming, already have carried and will yet carry, the great fervor of their hearts and their spiritual strength into another field, and will end by lifting up against Thee Thine own banner of Freedom and of Truth. But it is Thyself Thou hast to thank. Under our rule and sway all will be happy, and will neither rebel nor destroy each other as they did while under Thy free banner. Oh, we will take good care to prove to them that they will become absolutely free only when they have abjured their freedom in our favor and submit to us absolutely. Thinkest Thou we shall be right or still lying? They will convince themselves of our rightness, for they will see what a depth of degrading slavery and strife that liberty of Thine has led them into. Liberty, Freedom of Thought. Truth, Conscience, and Science will lead them into such impassable chasms, place them face to face before such wonders and insoluble mysteries, that some of them—more rebellious and ferocious than the rest—will destroy themselves; others—rebellious but weak—will destroy each other; while the remainder, weak, helpless and miserable, will crawl back to our feet and cry: "'Yes; right were ye, oh Mullahs of Allah; ye alone are in possession of His mystery, and we return to you, praying that ye save us from ourselves!" Receiving their bread from us, they will clearly see that we take the bread from them, the bread made by their own hands, but to give it back to them in equal shares and that without any miracle; and having ascertained that, though we have not changed stones into bread, yet bread they have, while every other bread turned verily in their own hands into stones, they will be only too glad to have it so. Until that day, they will never be happy. And who is it that helped the most to blind them, tell me? Who separated the flock and scattered it over ways unknown if it be not Thee and Thy Brother Liberators of the Spirit? But we will gather the sheep once more and subject them to our will forever. We will prove to them their own weakness and make them humble again, whilst with Thee they have learnt but pride, for Thou hast made more of them than they ever were worth. We will give them that quiet, humble happiness, which alone benefits such weak, foolish creatures as they are, and having once had proved to them their weakness, they will become timid and obedient, and gather around us as chickens around their hen. They will wonder at and feel a superstitious admiration for us, and feel proud to be led by men so powerful and wise that a handful of them can subject a flock a thousand millions strong. Gradually men will begin to fear us. They will nervously dread our slightest anger, their intellects will weaken, their eyes become as easily accessible to tears as those of children and women; but we will teach them an easy transition from grief and tears to laughter, childish joy and mirthful song. Yes; we will make them work like slaves, but during their recreation hours they shall have an innocent child-like life, full of play and merry laughter. We will even permit them sin, for, weak and helpless, they will feel the more love for us for permitting them to indulge in it. We will tell them that every kind of sin will be remitted to them, so long as it is done with our permission and for the glory of our Faith; that we take all these sins upon ourselves, for we so love the world, that we are even willing to sacrifice our souls for its satisfaction. And, appearing before them in the light of their scapegoats and redeemers, we shall be adored the more for it. They will have no secrets from us. It will rest with us to permit them to live with their wives and concubines, or to forbid them, to have children or remain childless, either way depending on the degree of their obedience to us; and they will submit most joyfully to us the most agonizing secrets of their souls—all, all will they lay down at our feet, and we will authorize and remit them all in Thy name, and they will believe us and accept our mediation with rapture, as it will deliver them from their greatest anxiety and torture—that of having to decide freely for themselves, and separate the wheat of Truth from the chaff of Illusion. And all will be happy, all except the one or two hundred thousands of their rulers. For it is but we, we the keepers of the great Mystery who will be miserable. We shall bear the burden of their freedom upon ourselves, and if we meet Allah in heaven we will take our chances as Martyrs that the great love of mankind which we have consummated shall deliver us in the final judgment from the weight of any of our possible sins. There will be thousands of millions of happy infants, and one hundred thousand martyrs who have taken upon themselves the curses of freedom, the knowledge of good and evil, the discernment of illusion and truth. Peaceable will be their end, and peacefully will they die, in Thy name, to find behind the portals of the grave—but death. But we will keep the secret inviolate, and deceive them for their own good with the mirage of life eternal in Thy kingdom. For, were there really anything like life beyond the grave, surely it would never fall to the lot of such as they! People tell us and prophesy of Thy coming and triumphing with Thy Brother Messiahs once more on earth; of Thy appearing with the army of Thy Elect, with Thy proud and mighty ones; but we will answer Thee that they have saved but themselves while we have saved all. We are also threatened with the great disgrace which awaits the whore, Babylon the great, The Western Bitch gone in the teeth, the "Mother of Harlots"—who sits upon the Beast, holding in her hands the Mystery, the word written upon her forehead; and we are told that the weak ones, the lambs shall rebel against her and shall make her desolate and naked. But then will I arise, and point out to Thee the thousands of millions of happy infants free from any sin. And we who have taken their sins upon us, for their own good, shall stand before Thee and say: "Judge us if Thou canst and darest!" Know then that I fear Thee not. Know that I too have lived in the dreary wilderness, where I fed upon locusts and roots, that I too have blessed freedom with which thou hast blessed men, and that I too have once prepared to join the ranks of Thy elect, the proud and the mighty, and that I too have sat under Thy Bodhi Tree separating Truth from Illusion with a mind purged of desire. But I awoke from my delusion and refused since then to serve insanity. I returned to join the legion of those who corrected Thy mistakes. I left the proud and returned to the really humble, and for their own happiness. What I now tell thee will come to pass, and our kingdom shall be built, I tell Thee not later than to-morrow Thou shalt see that obedient flock which at one simple motion of my hand will rush to add stones to Thy stoning and upon your pyre, on which I will burn Thee for having dared to come and trouble us in our work. For, if there ever was one who deserved more than any of the others our condemnation—it is Thee! To-morrow I will Martyr Thee. Inshallah!"

Mohammad paused. He had entered into the situation and had spoken with great animation, but now he suddenly burst out laughing.

"But all that is absurd!" suddenly exclaimed Khlorindah, who had hitherto listened perplexed and agitated but in profound silence. "Your poem is a glorification of Allah, not an accusation, as you, perhaps, meant it to be. And who will believe you when you speak so of 'freedom' and of 'truth'? Is it thus that we Muslims must understand it? It is but the perverters of the word of Allah that you condemn not his faithful servants gathered around us; it can only be the unthinking fanatics and men of violent hearts and not our reflective true leaders that you have been exposing! Your future Supreme Leader is an impossible character not like our actual Supreme Leader before us. What are these sins they are taking upon themselves? Who are those keepers of mystery who took upon themselves a curse for the good of mankind? Who ever met them? We all know the false mullahs who only manipulate, plot and scheme for their own personal power, and no one has a good word to say in their favor; but when were they ever truly as you depict them? Never, never! The false mullahs are merely a hypocrite army making ready for their future temporal kingdom, with a mitred emperor—a false Caliph at their head. That is their ideal and object, without any mystery or elevated suffering. The most prosaic thirsting for power, for the sake of the mean and earthly pleasures of life, a desire to enslave their fellow-men, something like our ancient feudal system of serfs, with themselves at the head as owning proprietors—that is all that they can be accused of. They may not believe in God, that is also possible, but your suffering future Supreme Leader is simply—an absurd fancy!"

"Hold, hold!" interrupted Mohammad, smiling. "Do not be so excited. An absurd fancy, you say; be it so! Of course, it is a fancy. But stop. I ask you, why should the mullahs

of your imagination live but for the attainment of 'mean material pleasures or for personal power?' Why should there not be found among them one single genuine martyr suffering under a great and holy idea and loving humanity with all his heart? Now let us suppose that among all these mullahs thirsting and hungering but after 'mean material pleasures or personal power' there may be one, just one like my old future Supreme Leader, who had himself fed upon roots in the wilderness, had gone through the deepest personal spiritual aspirations and searching, been tempted in his faith and suffered the tortures of damnation while trying to conquer flesh, in order to become free and perfect, but who had never ceased to love humanity, and who one day prophetically beheld the truth; who saw as plain as he could see that the bulk of humanity could never be happy under the old system, that it was not for them that the great Idealists, the Razul Messengers of Allah, had come and died and dreamt of His Universal Harmony. Having realized that truth, he returned into the world and joined—intelligent and practical people. Is this so impossible?"

"Joined whom? What intelligent and practical people?" exclaimed Khlorindah quite excited. "Why should they be more intelligent than other men, and what secrets and mysteries can they have? They have neither. Atheism and infidelity is all the secret they have. Your Supreme Leader does not believe in God Allah, and that is all the Mystery there is in it!"

"It may be so. You have guessed rightly there. And it is so, and that is his whole secret; but is this not the acutest sufferings for such a man as he, who killed all his young life in asceticism in the desert, having flogged, lacerated, torn and tested and subdued his body to the spirit in Ashura, and yet could not cure himself of his love towards his fellowmen? Toward the end of his life he becomes convinced that it is only by following the advice of the great and terrible spirit that the fate of these millions of weak rebels, these 'half-finished samples of humanity created in mockery' can be made tolerable. And once convinced of it, he sees as clearly that to achieve that object, one must follow blindly the guidance of the wise spirit, the fearful spirit of death, negation and destruction, hence accept a system of lies and deception and lead humanity consciously this time toward death and destruction; and moreover, be deceiving them all the while in order to prevent them from realizing where they are being led, and so force the miserable blind men to feel happy, at least while here on earth. And note this: a wholesale deception in the name of Him, in whose idea the old man had so passionately, so fervently, believed during nearly his whole life of orthodox faith! Is this no suffering? And were such a solitary exception found amidst, and at the head of, that army 'that thirsts for power but for the sake of the mean pleasures of life,' think you one such man would not suffice to bring on a tragedy? Moreover, one single man like my Supreme Leader as a principal leader, would prove sufficient to discover the real guiding idea of the Ulamic system with all its armies of mullahs, judges and unquestionable texts and rules freed up from the burden of any contact with the Living Spirit; the greatest and chiefest conviction that the solitary type described in my poem has at no time ever disappeared from among the chief leaders of that movement. Who knows but that that terrible old man, loving humanity so stubbornly and in such an original way, exists even in our days in the shape of a whole host of such solitary exceptions, whose existence is not due to mere chance, but to a well-defined association born of mutual consent, to a secret league, organized several centuries back, in order to guard the Mystery from the indiscreet eyes of the miserable and weak people, and only in view of their own happiness? And so it is; it cannot be otherwise. I suspect that even the Falasifiyah or Masons or Buddhists or Bahai or even Marxists have some such Mystery underlying the basis of their organization, and that it is just the reason why the clerics hate them so—orthodox mullahs dreading to find in them rivals, competition, the dismemberment of the unity of the idea, for the realization of which one flock and one Shepherd are needed. However, in defending my idea, I look like an author whose production is unable to stand criticism. Enough of this. I let my work speak for itself or speak not at all."

"You are, perhaps, a Faylasuf yourself!" exclaimed Khlorindah. "You do not believe in God but in Reason like the Falsafas," she added, with a note of profound sadness in her voice.

"Not at all" he riposted, "I am more a mystic than a mere rationalist, but I am a freethinker in both directions. I insist that the Living Spirit and its eternal explorations and deeper conjunctions not be extinguished or aborted by false restraints."

"It sounds more like obscurantist youthful Romanticism," chided the Imam, "...I enjoy your imaginative spirit, and I respect your manly courage which but few would have before me under such circumstances. Your kind of Romanticism is something I would criticize a sixteen year-old for being without, but chide a thirty-year old for not having outgrown. I applaud you for it here...but do not expect me to authorize its publication for the masses."

But suddenly realizing that her brother guest artist was looking at her with mockery Khlorindah felt compelled to react. "How do you mean then to bring your poem to a close?" she unexpectedly enquired, casting her eyes downward, "or does it break off here?"

"My intention is to end it with the following scene: Having disburdened his heart, the Supreme Leader waits for some time to hear his three prisoners speak in Their turn. He asks for their reply. Their unbroken silence weighs upon him. He has seen that his captives have been attentively listening to him all this time, not without understanding, with their eyes fixed penetratingly and softly on the face of their jailer, and evidently purposefully bent upon not replying to him. The old man longs to hear the Mahdi's voice, and those of his Brother Messiahs of the Spirit. He longs to hear Them reply; better words of bitterness, condemnation and scorn than Their silence. Suddenly The Mahdi rises; slowly and silently approaching the Inquisitor, He bends towards him and softly kisses the bloodless, four-score and-ten- year-old lips. Christ and the Maitreya follow him and kiss him in turn. That is all the answer. The Supreme Leader shudders. There is a convulsive twitch at the corner of his mouth. He goes to the door, opens it, and addressing the three he intones, 'Go,' he says, 'go, and return no more... do not come again... never, never!' —and let's Them out into the dark night. The prisoners vanish into the Teheran evening, leaving behind only a pervading lingering scent of Night-blooming Jasmines."

"And the old man?" asks Khlorindah.

"The kiss burns his heart, but the old man remains firm in his own ideas and unbelief." Mohammad replies.

"And you, together with him? You too!" despairingly exclaimed Khlorindah, while Mohammad burst into a still louder fit of laughter

"I am faithful to Allah in my own fashion" replied Mohammad.

"And do you renounce me then?" asked the Imam chidingly.

Mohammad rose from his chair and mad no reply but kissed the Imam on his bloodless, four-score and ten year old lips.

"That is plagiarism," chided the Imam.

Mohammad bowed silently in reply, exiting.

# CHAPTER VII.

### London

### Going for the Jugular

Though C with the rest of the world had been transfixed with horror and trepidation by the Jerusalem crisis—now spilling over in the last two weeks into a newly emerging Iranian Crisis he was not prepared for the shocker he received at 4 am on Sunday morning following a long fancy-dress party he had attended with the Prime Minister Saturday evening. Rising from his bed after a scant two hours of sleep he answered the securely encrypted "Hot Line" installed at his home connected to the MI6 Headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, hearing the voice of Sir Endymion Wilkinson apologizing for the hour but insisting he had something urgent that could not wait. C asked for a minute to splash some water on his face and try to get his wits about himself, and answered: "All right Endymion, I think I am thinking now, I think I am conscious enough to take it—spit it out." he stuttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Sorry to wake you Alistair, but its Nightingale. I was called in late last night on the most recent communication and just finished the translating. What we have got is super-hot—magma in fact—this is Critical." he blurted out.

"All Right, all right—let's have it..." retorted C, shaking off his funk.

"Get a hold on yourself, Alistair. Listen carefully. What I have before me is a summary memorandum of the latest Politburo meeting in Beijing. It's war Alistair. If we can believe our source, and it has been credible and reliable over the last two years, then this meeting is an account of the tentative decision of the Chinese Politburo to give the green light to a full-scale invasion in concert with both the Russians and the Iranians of the entire Middle-East, right down to the oil fields of Iraq, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. According to the information revealed in this meeting an agreement of alliance has been reached and the Iranians have agreed to join the Chinese and Russians to form a new Triple Axis. That is why the Iranians are not putting forward their best forces in the north—it's a three-handed ruse, and the Jerusalem explosion was their prearranged pretext to move the forces of the three powers into the arena. When the Russians and Chinese push through at the Iranian border they plan to announce their alliance and move their combined force immediately through Iran unimpeded and directly invade southern Iraq, Kuwait and the entire oil bearing north of Saudi Arabia." summarized Sir Endymion gravely.

"Good God, Endymion, Is this for real? Tell me that I am dreaming—this is just too incredible." he muttered out of his shock and lack of sleep.

"I wish to God that it were, Alistair. But I'm dead serious—it's hyper-critical and it means war." he responded with a tone of solemn deadness

"If this is real they're going for the bloody jugular. It's going to be life and death in that case. I'll get down to see you shortly, and in the meantime keep me posted on everything, however minor. Now if I can get my brain started— get everybody relevant to this briefed but it's top secret until I give the authorization to go public—put the whole office on red alert and instruct the relevant Controllerates that I want a comprehensive Intelligence Estimate on all this within 24 hours—Critical Urgency. I will meet you at seven in the situation room. In the meantime I am going to get on to the secure phone to the Prime Minister and then to Joel Barlow and Washington and give them a heads up. If there is anything further breaking get me on the secure mobile." spitted out C, trying to make his brain function.

"Forgive the ungodly hour, Alistair, but I knew you would need to know immediately."

"Right! Let's move" riposted C, tearing off his robe and thrusting himself into the shower.

At a quarter to seven C arrived in the situation room at Vauxhall Cross and found Sir Endymion waiting with two translations of the latest Nightingale transcript bound in the red dress of their top secret folders. He poured out two cups of tea as C began to read the Nightingale transcript of the Politburo meeting:

"The time is ripe" Minister Luo Chunwang told his colleagues in the room of polished mahogany and rosewood. "The men and the weapons are moving into place and surprise is on our side. The prize lies here before our very eyes. The prize offers an end to the nightmare of two hundred years of our national humiliation. It offers the energy security that our rising economy most desperately needs and ends the vulnerability of our external dependence. Moreover it turns the tables once and for all and renders the West dependent upon us and our allies. Our policy of low-profile dissimulation and feigned weakness, Sun Bin's Tao Guang Yang Hui game of deception, has succeeded and borne fruit, and we can now unmask our hidden strength and like the Japanese at Pearl Harbor going for the prize in one bold stroke. The prize offers us the ability to make China again the world's preeminent power, restoring its rightful place up to the Qing Dynasty. That is a legacy we may leave to our children such as no Chinese leader has granted to his descendants since Qin Shi Huang Di, perhaps ever."

"Is it feasible?" responded Interior Minister Qian, cautiously.

"Marshall Li?" Luo handed the inquiry over to the Defense Minister, Vice-Chairman of the Central Military Commission after the President and Party Secretary.

"The correlation of forces of forces will be in our favor if we can achieve the element of surprise. The Americans have formidable air and sea power in the Persian Gulf theater and they have qualitative superiority in the air, but they are weak on the ground. NATO has formidable resources but these are not yet mobilized and far from the theater of war. They do not suspect that we three of the Triple Axis—China, Russia and Iran are working together or are so close to their jugular. Moreover, moving along the newly opened transportation routes along the Central Asia-China Gas Pipeline our forces are making remarkably fast progress all the way from Xinjiang through Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and on up to the Iranian border as well as by rail through Russian Siberia. Few people realize that Chinese Xinjiang and the forces based within it, even before our move forward, were always literally closer to the Persian Gulf than they were to our own capital of Beijing—they have forgotten that we have always been a Middle-East power along the Silk Road, even from the time of the Battle of Talas in Kazakhstan in the Tang Dynasty when the Arabs got paper from us, to our role in the Mongol Empire of our Yuan Dynasty stretching through Iraq and Iran almost to the gates of Egypt and Byzantium. We have a good chance to achieve complete tactical and strategic surprise leaving their response too little too late. Even if our intentions are revealed we have already achieved strategic surprise even if tactical surprise eludes us. With the unsuspected pooling of our air power we are capable of at least neutralizing and stalemating their airpower while our ground forces overwhelm them. With our combined nuclear capacity and the economic weakness and disunity of NATO and the West, we can resist any threat of nuclear blackmail. The prospects are good. Very good." Marshall Li gloated, enjoying the preeminence and prospects of increased personal power that the situation and moment gave to him.

"I am not overly enthusiastic about the prospects of this venture, gentlemen" Minister Tang spoke up for the Foreign Ministry.

"Why is that, Tang" asked Luo Chunwang.

"What will the Americans do—and the NATO allies? We don't know, but I would not be optimistic, especially regarding the Americans. If we put the knife to their energy jugular they are sure to respond strongly, perhaps desperately. Their air force is the best in the world, and what about their nuclear weapons and their NATO allies? You calculate that they will perceive their weakness brought on by their economic crisis and the 'rise of China' and pragmatically back down, but they may just as well calculate that their weakness will grow even more severe with their further decline in coming decades, particularly if our control of the world's oil reserves succeeds, and they may calculate that a supreme resistance now, striking while their military technology still has the edge, would be preferable before their window of opportunity closes—inducing possible rational or irrational nuclear overreaction. " he cautioned.

"A point well taken"—conceded Minister Luo Chunwang, who oversaw the Ministry of State Security, the Chinese intelligence service "If we acted alone I would have the same reservations as you, Tang. But you must remember that we will be under the nuclear, air force and strategic umbrella of the Russians, in addition to our own nuclear and air defenses. The Americans will not dare attack us with nuclear arms when they know the combined Russian and Chinese arsenals are primed and targeted upon their cities for instant nuclear retaliation. And the Americans are spread too thin across the globe for conventional war—remember McArthur's warning against the madness of America entering a "ground war in Asia." It will take them too long to bring their air assets forward into play, and we can count on their economic exhaustion—like that leading to the prior decline of the British Empire after WWII or the fall of the Soviet Union whose global ambitions exhausted their inadequate and incommensurate economic base. Like it we shall see the quasi-American Empire go into the dustbin of history, the EU will break apart under the burden of debt and its internal contradictions, and with its disintegration we shall see NATO crumbling to dust against our New Eurasian Hegemony. Believe me we have reached a new turning point in Global History, the Rise of Asia and the final Decline of the West. But we must have the manhood to seize the opportunity and act. I remember the Shakespeare I often saw in London: "There is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries." ...By the time they marshall any resources into the zone of our Blitzkrieg strike, the 'Great Game' will be over. Smoking the opium the Nobel Peace Prize the American president will not have the balls to go to the mat with nuclear weapons, and with the horror of the Jerusalem detonation before their eyes and memory their peoples will not support any catastrophic confrontation. Many are calling for unilateral disarmament there in the wake of the Crisis. The Jerusalem Crisis has sapped their will to struggle and replaced it with a sort of millennial romanticism—a recoil from horror into a weak and false humanitarianism of wishful thinking—or a fatalistic ostrich-like state of denial unable to face up to their fin de siècle 'Untergang des Abendlandes—The Decline and Fall of the West.' We predicted the response when we arranged the nuclear explosion."

"We arranged the Jerusalem nuclear explosion?" gasped Commerce Minister Feng, his jaw visibly dropping in shocked disbelief.

"With my approval..." intoned the President and Party Secretary gravely, "...For reasons of operational security and secrecy only Minister Luo, Marshall Li and myself could have full knowledge, as I am sure you understand fully."

"Of Course." muttered Minister Feng, after two seconds of hesitation mentally gauging how far he could risk any objection. In this room it was dangerous to differ from the consensus, and to be isolated could well spell out the end of a career or maybe even the end of one's life.

"You see, after the occupation of North Korea we removed the stockpiles of enriched uranium under circumstances that would render them untraceable. With the Party Secretary's approval we then negotiated a common venture with our Russian Siloviki friends and the Iranian Al-Quds Force and their fellow-traveller agents. I met with the Quds Force agent Mustafa bin Salman al Khalifa who had prepared the ground, here in Beijing and we worked out our plan, fully realized, for the Jerusalem detonation and the hostage taking as a pretext to cover the movement of our forces into the arena. The Siloviki around the Russian Prime Minister were also in on it and they arranged for the diversion of the Russian state aircraft with our Premiere and the Russian President on board, under the ruse that they were being taken hostage by a terrorist organization. Our Premiere, Wen Jiabao unknowingly transported the nuclear device to the Israel Museum as it was concealed inside one of the Terracotta Warriors he delivered on his state aircraft as a good-will token of friendship. Had the device been discovered our Iranian allies had arranged that a terror cell of the "East Turkestan Liberation Front" linked to Al-Qaida and operating in Xian, the site of the Terracotta Warriors would be fingered to take the fall and blame for it. As it worked out, that was not necessary."

"So Premiere Wen Jiabao is not really a hostage in Teheran?" diffidently queried Foreign Minister Tang.

"No. After he arrived at our embassy in Teheran, the Station Chief of our Ministry of State Security informed him of the real situation and briefed him on my instructions on all that had been accomplished without his knowledge. He is now a comfortable guest in the Embassy, safe and well cared for." continued Luo Chunwang, "...Of course with the Party Secretary's approval he has been informed of the errors he has been found to have made in his work style and he is conducting healthy self-criticism. He will return at an appropriate time. He has been informed of the recent changes here in this room, with the departure of many of his fellow associates and their replacement with the new reliable comrades I am so happy to see gathered about us here. Many old, old friends! As the head of the Emergency Committee and with the Party Secretary's approval I have taken over his daily duties. I am informed that Premiere Medvedev and other of his "liberal" associates in the Kremlin have suffered a similar appropriate fate for their errors in judgment and have been replaced in all but name by the Siloviki. I am sure everyone in this room recognizes the necessity for these actions." Intoned Minister Luo Chunwang forcefully and bluntly.

Foreign Minister Tang struggled to maintain his sang froid and the inscrutability of his face beneath which trembled his deep and troubled emotions. He glanced quickly around the room, many chairs occupied with newly appointed faces. He traded glances with Commerce Minister Feng, who along with himself seemed to be the only remaining moderate to liberal voices at the table. In an instant he calculated his odds and replied:

"Of Course."

"So Comrades, we must consider well this question of moving forward. If we are to decide we must decide soon. Marshall Li, from the correlation of forces on the ground, how soon would the decision have to be made to ensure success? How easily could the decision be called back if the circumstances warranted it?" queried Minister Luo confidently, enacting a series of questions which he had already role played in advance with Marshall Li and the Party Secretary the previous day.

"Ideally the 'Go' decision would be made today, so that we can keep moving our forces to their preset junping-off places. To call them back—yes, we always have that option up to the last moment and we will even have a later 'Go-No Go' opportunity before the joint Axis forces cross the border out of Iran and into Iraq, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, taking them over with the help of the Shia fifth-column prepared by the Iranians in advance. We can stop the offensive right up to the time of the firing of the first artillery and rockets, and then it is a short jump from the Iranian forward positions to the Saudi oil fields. We have plenty of safety valves in the system, so it is perfectly safe." Marshall Li's preplanned answer to Minister Luo's preplanned question was a clever as it was misleading. Sure in theory you could change the orders at any time, but in reality the momentum of events, their necessary consequences and the reactions of your adversaries would make the course of action, once begun, irrevocable.

"I see" said Interior Minister Qian, "In that case, I propose a motion that we vote on the tentative and conditional approval of the 'Go' order, subject to change at any time by a majority vote of the Politburo."

Now the President and Party Secretary resumed his direct control of the Politburo meeting, saying: "Comrades, thank you for all of your views and opinions about the issue before us. Now we must decide what is best for our country and our people. Comrades, we rely on your judgment."

As Luo Chunwang hoped, the vote was already decided by the way it was framed and introduced—what his Western counterparts had called a fait accompli. Only Tang wavered and hesitated, glancing at Feng, and then realizing how dangerous it would be to oppose the majority, gave in and followed. The vote was unanimous. The Operation would be called Operation Tian Ming Yun, Operation Celestial Destiny.

As C finished reading the transcript of the Chinese Politburo meeting Sir Endymion noticed that the hand which held it was visibly shaking in trepidation. It was rare that he ever observed C to break his professional sang froid to show emotion even to this extent. Next he saw him wipe the perspiration off his forehead with his hand and rub his fingers into the closed lids of his eyes, then pause in a meditative stop.

"Well, it's up to us, Endymion. It's incredible. Absolutely incredible. It's a bitter reality to swallow whole but we have got to take it down and get on with it...Right...You put the place here on full alert—100% mobilization. I will go over immediately and brief the Prime Minister—this is Critical. Then join me at Whitehall and we will convene an Emergency Meeting of the Joint Intelligence Committee with Joel Barlow and relay the news on to Washington. After that it will have to be a full NATO alert and mobilization all round. God!...they said NATO had no mission after the fall of the East Block...now they've got a new mission for it with the force of impact of a new Genghis Kahn horde—averting Armageddon and defending the Greater Eurasian Balance of Power for the duration. We'll have to put our full nuclear arsenal on full alert and deployment and begin to accelerate the movement of our conventional forces into the theater, though we are far behind the game in area if this thing goes through as planned here in this document. We'll have to determine our course of action. Perhaps if we threaten them point blank that we know what they are up to and spoil their expectation of surprise and put them on notice that we will meet the threat with the most severe retaliation, nuclear options included, then they will back off their position of pre-supposed strength and stealth and cave in to the bluff. But we will need to face the consequences if they play hardball while the advantage is in their court. That will be a decision the Prime Minister and the American President will have to take... Right!...let's go out there and face the Elephant!"

# CHAPTER VIII.

### Qom

### The Night Journey, Goethe & The Monkey King

After many days of confinement in their chamber in the underground caves and caverns atop the deeply buried nuclear processing facility in the mountains neighboring the ancient religious center of Qom, the band of prisoners began by steps to explore the network of caves, caverns and tunnels that they discovered radiated downwards from their chamber of confinement. Evidently the nuclear processing facilities had been excavated as deeply in the earth as possible, taking advantage of a network of deep natural caverns walled with stalactites and stalagmites, then further excavating downwards beneath the natural declivity in hopes of obtaining security from conventional or nuclear air attack from above. Although their captors had made efforts to seal off access to the outward passages and tunnels, the captives soon found ways to penetrate the blockages and access the further passageways. None of these tunnels, however, seemed to lead upwards to the surface and possible escape, but rather only in the opposite downward direction.

After many days of tight security their captors wearied and the security grew laxer, with occasional visits to their chamber of confinement to provide food and water and check their status, but leaving them alone for extended periods. During these intervals and the hours of sleep the captives made their further explorations in hope of discovering a means of escape, utilizing the electric-battery lamps that had been furnished for their comfort in the chamber. One passageway was discovered by knocking a clandestine hole through a brickwork wall at the end of a walled-off passage then replacing the loose bricks daily to conceal the hole's existence. The revealed passageway led downward to the bed of an underground river, whose course evidently swelled and receded at intervals eating away a considerable tunnel flowing downward, then disappearing into an unknown darkness below. The captives took turns exploring these passageways for means of escape.

One night, when they were presumed to be asleep Jack, Andreas and Sartorius made their way through the hole and into the passageway to continue their explorations for a means of exit. Eva placed a duffel bag next to her under the blanket to conceal Sartorius' absence if a bed check was made, and Jack and Andreas made similar camouflage on their own beds. Jack, though searched and disarmed by their captors, as a CIA operations officer and "agent" had concealed about his person several aids useful to their escape. The gnomes of Langley had provided him with several concealed tools for use in case of capture. His cigarette lighter concealed a powerful laser which they used to cut through the mortar of the bricked over entranceway to the network of natural tunnels in which the nuclear processing facility in which they were being held was constructed, loosening the bricks to enable their egress. They each day then knocked aside the loose bricks and then restacked and replaced them with mud for mortar behind them to conceal the clandestine hole during their preparations for their escape. The heels of his shoes contained concealed explosives, a miniature Derringer-style dart-pistol firing both lethal nerve agent and tranquilizing darts, and a GPS & satellite communications device which could be used to signal for assistance when they reached the surface. Jack led the way and Andreas held the portable electric light for him, which from experience would give them about three hours before it would need recharging. Sartorius followed his son and Andreas as best he could, though slower and less agile than the two younger and fitter men.

Intimidating and frightening at first, the cave and tunnel systems soon revealed their idiosyncratic charms despite yielding no immediate solution to the pressing problem of escape. Sartorius was agape at the marvelous speleothems—stalactites and stalagmites, soda straws and spiraling helictides that ranged along the tunnels and cavern walls. They saw flea-like insects and cave spiders scurrying away from their lights, and some, presumably blind, who did not scurry until they made some sound or vibration. Ranging along the long tunnels they would sometimes come into an immense cavern, like a cathedral of some unknown chthonic and gothic god seemingly frequented by invisible dark believers. The stone passages and walls were covered with a profuse abundance of anthodite crystal flowers, translucent and exquisite, like intricate and most delicate oriental jade carvings of flower-life, but issuing entirely untouched by human hand, from a chthonic nature or the fanciful will of a dark nature-god, floriform, dense and feather-like, or like flowered rampant vines of a stone-ivy that wound everywhere, glimmering and flourescing in a mysterious light of unknown origin. Looking up, Sartorius would observe the apparent work of some anti-Michelangelo or Gaudi, the flowstone cast over with hallucinogenic draperies and curtains of frostwork and moonmilk and the anthodites replete with dogtooth spar and aragonite crystals.

Once, looking far above their heads they thought they were almost out, seeing a shaft of light break the darkness of the floor of the cavern before them. They heard the screeching of thousands, the echoes seeming of millions of bats, some of which flew around their heads in mutual terror, then disappeared. They passed through one chamber, a vast hibernaculum covered with dead bats, whitened and blanched about their noses. Andreas guessed them the victims of White Nose Syndrome, which he had run into in South Africa, a mysterious fungal, viral or bacterial disease which of late was sweeping through the bat grottos of the world's underworld like a sub-terranean plague or AIDS epidemic, or beeike colony-collapse disorder, waking the bats from the peace of their hibernation, and forcing from them the peace of sleep, they literally died of their fevered nightmares, burning up so much of their body-energy stored for hibernation that they starved to death before they could resurrect to the world. Then, like a mythic curse, the villagers would starve, their fields devastated by the voracious insects left uneaten by the perished bats, each bat generally consuming his whole bodyweight in bugs each night in aid of the farms. But even the presence of death gave hope of life and escape as it stood to reason that if there was a way in for the bats there must needs be a way out for the prisoners. But when they followed the swarms and the trail of decomposing bat-carcasses, crawling on hands and knees through the ever narrowing ducts coated in guano and the mush of the bugs that fed on it, they discovered that the passages were so steep, narrow and twisted towards the surface that it was impossible to follow and they were forced to renounce their hopes and try another direction the next day. Dismayed, they dragged themselves back through the weeping boneyard and boxwork formations of calcite and gypsum, the mocking broomstick and totem-pole drippings of millennia, past the dreary pillars, overhangs and scallops of calcite, rubbing their way back past the snotties formed from sulphur oxidizing bacteria, then at last scurrying hastily to make their way back before the guards would check them at the change of shift.

The next day Eva awoke to find Sartorius breathing heavily and fitfully against her, drenched in sweat and with the heat of a raging fever pouring out of him. She wiped his skin and placed a cold wet towel across his forehead. When she tried to speak to him his answers were incoherent. She tried to force him to take some water and thin porridge, but most of it would run down his shirt off his lips. She knocked at the steel door and called loudly for the guards to fetch a doctor.

An hour later a tall man with spectacles, a white kaftan and a mane of white hair looking like an ancient prophet entered, accompanied by a guard and a thin nurse carrying a leather bag. He introduced himself as. Dr. Reza Zendagani and proceeded to examine Sartorius in a professional manner, taking his temperature, blood pressure and drawing a tube of blood from his arm.

"How long has he been like this?" he asked Eva in good English, unable to get a coherent answer from Sartorius himself.

"About six hours, I guess—is it serious do you think?" she replied, stroking Sartorius' forehead with a wet cloth.

"It's hard to say—I'll have to run some tests. There are certain "cave diseases" which occur here and in other caverns which sometimes break out in those who have had no previous exposure or immunity. Sometimes they come from the uncommon funguses and insects that survive at these depths, sometimes from bat droppings. We had a lot of it during the last war when refugees would hide here. In the Second World War I was in the Soviet Union—Georgia and the Ukraine, and treated Stalin's wife for it at the caverns of Soledar and Tsqaltubo—Stalin used to go there with his family for the spelotherapy and balneotherapy—treatment with rare mineral baths—the Radon-carbonate mineral springs—Bathhouse 9 is where he always went—you can still go there and see a giant stone mural of his face painted on the wall there. Some people say he was superstitious about the miracle cures of the mineral clays, some say he felt safe down below—living in a vault because of his paranoia—others say he came to the caverns to have conferences with the Devil himself, like Faust...It's an odd environment in these caves, with their rare minerals and rare life forms, you have to be careful...I think its histoplasmosis—what we call "cave disease" here. I will give him some antibiotics and anti-fungals and we will see if the infection responds. Try to get him to keep eating and drinking and keep him cool."

"Is it serious?..." Eva repeated anxiously, her eyes deepening with worry as she looked into those of Dr. Zendagani, deep under the pure white shocks of his eyebrows, reminding her of an ageing Einstein or Mark Twain with his disheveled white hair.

"It might be or it might not...It all depends on how his body deals with it, how well his immune system responds. A lot depends on the strength of his own body. You know doctors can only do so much...even with modern drugs we are not God. If we are lucky he will shake it off with the antibiotics, but if it gets beyond the lungs to spread to other organs—the heart, etc. there could be complications. At least we caught it early on... Let's hope for the best and I will do more tests and try to find what works—I will call Teheran for some Amphotoxicin B, which should do the trick, Inshallah."

Towards evening Sartorius awoke and said he was feeling better, and tried to get up to eat and engage in his usual pastimes, usually reading. But the next hours were spent shivering under a blanket with the book in his hand, which he was unable to read, then lying languidly and wearily on the sofa. After a few hours of these attempts to recover himself he was forced to return to the bed, more and more indisposed. Looking in on him repeatedly, Dr. Zendagani was only astonished at Eva's composure, who despite suggestions that in her condition she would best let a nurse attend him, insisted on remaining by his side and tending to his every need, denying herself any opportunity for sleep as her eyes rested anxiously on the rising and falling of his chest, or on the movement of his lips, which she wet with a glass of water.

After the next restless and feverish night, on the morning she was hopeful that strength was returning to him, and noted a renewed light in his eyes, but his persistent attempt at rising was disappointed and he confessed himself unable to sit up and returned voluntarily to the bed. Eva called again for Dr. Zendagani, and examining him again he told her, out of Sartorius' earshot that he feared mediastinitis was setting in, causing complications in the mid-chest area, crushing his hopes for an early recovery. His tests had detected the presence of G.destructans and he increased the dosage of Amphotoxicin B, dutifully prodding Eva not to lose hope, even while he doubted the outcome himself.

Poor Sartorius, sleepless, languid and low from the nature of the sickness, could not now even hope that the next morning would find him recovered, and his sufferings were only intensified by the galling thought that his illness was causing his beloved Eva to suffer in attending him. He thought if he lived long enough the world would all be lost to him like the dying world the newly blind inhabit, all of it slowly fading from memory. He dreamed in fear of his own death, but more in fear of having lived in vain, the quest and dream of the UN work dying with him. He passed in and out of delirium. Sometimes he awoke and could not recognize the faces around him or where he was. Sometimes he awoke remembering how he had taken money from his father's pockets when he was eight years old and his father lay in a drunken stupor in the hallway, his mother having locked him out of their bedroom. How he wished to have put it back! How does the never to be differ from the never was? How cruel life was, me mused inwardly to himself in an interval of coming back into himself: You forget the things you want to remember and you remember the things you want to forget. Eva did her best to reassure Robert that the illness would be a short one, and her efforts to raise his spirits out of his despondency and make him believe, led her by a sympathetic process to then believe herself, that the malady would be shortly and quickly resolved.

The next day produced little or no alteration in the state of the patient; he was certainly not better, and except that there was no improvement, did not appear worse. Jack took turns with Eva tending to his father, and held his hand in his distresses. Though he had grown unreligious, when he now feared his father might die, at moments when no one looked on, he tried to pray over his sickbed and even to strike a bargain with God, promising that he would amend his life if He allowed his father to pull through. Afterwards he wondered if anyone was listening, but promised to set aside his rational pride and the hubris of unbelieving doubt if his father was saved.

Another day passes without alteration of Sartorius' state, mostly wrapped in sleep and unconsciousness, broken by fits of feverish restlessness, with little variation. When Jack and Eva were both together once watching over the unconscious patient he saw Eva drift off into an exhausted sleep, a few hours later she fell into a dreaming fit, moaning aloud "No!" in her sleep, and then starting up onto her feet while still unawake. Jack caught her before she fell towards the bed. He laid her in the easy chair and gave her some tea, then after she had recovered he asked what she had been dreaming. She said she had dream't that a grim angel had come and was taking Robert away but that Eva had held fast to his arm and would not let hime go with him. And the dream was so rich in colour! How else would death call you? Jack reflected that she was so much to type as a woman. Women dream of danger to those in their care, men dream of danger to themselves. Jack distrusted such in his own dreams. He said the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and death, a dangerous concession to weakness. Be careful about the things you put in your head, he thought; they'll be there forever.

Dr. Zendagani came twice a day and talked boldly of a speedy recovery, and Eva was in response sanguine, but the expectation of Andreas and Jack and those around them was far from so happy, sensing that the Doctor's mask of optimism was but a professional false front calculated to keep Eva from falling into depression, and reckoning the truth to be far less hopeful. Andreas determined very early on that Sartorius would never recover from this illness, and Jack quickly fell into the field of his pessimism. He tried to reason himself out of the fears which with the constant assurances of the doctor might regarded as absurd, but he could not expel from his mind the fear that he would see his father no more.

On the morning of the following day, however, the gloomy anticipations of both men were almost done away; for when Dr. Zendagani arrived he declared the patient materially better. His pulse was much stronger and every symptom more favourable than on the preceding visit. Eva, confirmed in every pleasant hope, was all cheerfulness, rejoicing that she had shared the doctors offered cheerfulness rather than giving into the men's pessimism, and looking forward to when Robert would again be on his feet.

But the day was not to close so auspiciously as it began. Towards evening Robert became ill again, growing more heavy, restless, and uncomfortable than before. Eva, however, still hopeful, was willing to attribute the change to nothing more than the fatigue of Robert's having sat up to have his bed made, and administering his medicine, saw him sink into a peaceful slumber from which she expected beneficial effects. Observing Jack falling into deeper and deeper depression she insisted in ministering to him and encouraging him, taking care even to prepare food for him to keep up his spirits. Standing vigil for days on end without sleep she silently kissed Robert's eyes and forehead while he slept and whispered into his ears words of hope and of her love she knew he could not hear. Her prayers were constant and renewed, and she would neither rest nor let show to anyone the extent of her own exhaustion or the worry and fear she was afraid to reveal even to herself. Convinced that Robert's peaceful sleep was a hopeful sign rather than a negative one, and anxious to see the result of it herself she resolved to sit with him during the whole of it. Jack, who tried to relieve her from her constant vigil for her own health's sake, finally gave up and Eva remained awake alone with Robert until morning.

The repose of her beloved Robert became more and more disturbed, and he threw himself to and fro in fits of unease, during which Eva held him from falling from the bed and wiped his brow of sweat. Eva watched with unremitting attention his continual change of posture and heard the inarticulate sounds of complaint passing from his lips, and almost wished to rouse him from so painful a slumber, but knew it better that he remained unconscious of his pain. Robert, suddenly awakened by some accidental noise outside the steel door, started hastily up, and with a feverish wildness cried out—

"Eva!...Eva!"

She rushed to hold his hand and stared into his eyes, saying "Robert, I'm here Robert! Everything is all right Robert, rest, everything is fine."

"Eva!" he called out again plaintively, and tears were brought to her eyes with the realization that though she was looking so directly into his eyes yet he could not see her. She wept as she called out "Robert! Robert," and kissed his eyes shut and held her face against the side of his own until he returned to himself. Then, lucid for a few moments he said weakly to her "Eva, take care of the baby for me, tell him his father loved him and his Mama so much—tell him I'm sorry..."

"No, No!..." Eva cried, " No, Robert!...we'll never let you go!...never!..." and then he fell back again into a fitful unconsciousness.

Eva perceived with alarm that he was not himself, and while attempting to sooth him, eagerly felt his pulse. It was weaker and more feeble than before. As Robert babbled incoherently her alarm increased so rapidly that she instantly and loudly called the guards to fetch the doctor. When the old man arrived she pleaded with him to do something quickly, so greatly did the fear overpower her usual strength and composure, and she so threatened to drop into the same delirium as Sartorius' that Dr. Zendagani was forced to give her a sedative against her will to make her sleep, while he injected adrenaline and added medications to bolster Sartorius' failing strength.

Thus, Jack took over Eva's vigil, and tended his father, much as Eva had so lovingly done for so long, wiping his wet and fevered brow and wetting his lips with water when he could take it. After a phase of unconsciousness and delirium, Sartorius came back to himself briefly, and found himself looking up into the eyes that he thought at first were Eva's but on the first word spoken proved to be Jack's.

"Jack!" he said to him, half wearied and half startled, but with momentary strength ot raise his head and shoulders.

"Dad!—you're going to be OK, Dad—just lie back down and rest and conserve your strength. I'll get a bit of hot soup for you."

"No, Jack! Don't go. Jack, we're men, we don't have to pretend. I could be dead in another hour. I want to tell you something. Jack, if I don't make it, take care of Eva and the child for me, will you promise?"

"Yes, Dad. You know you don't have to ask that."

"Good boy, Jack. We weren't always as close as I wanted, but I always knew I could count on you when the chips were down. Other than that Jack, if this is it the only thing I ask is that you do your best to be the best man you can be, a gentleman if possible, in whatever you do...Remember our family, Jack—remember we are the Sartorius clan. Remember the twin mottos on our coat of arms—"Sartorius: We cut the clothes to fit the man, not the man to fit the clothes; the man makes the clothes, not the clothes the man." ...Naked came we into this world and naked shall we go out. But in the interval we are stuck in that ambiguous condition of a clothed animal—a so-called civilized being. —Yes, Sartorius is our name—though we have been Ministers and Admirals our line stems from simple tailors—and Jack, there is no shame in that—even a tailor is a trustee of great importance. When man stepped out of the wilderness he clothed himself to conserve his bodily warmth and to shield himself from the hostile elements, cutting buckskins to fit his body. Thus began civilized life, for better or for worse, and we have gone on clothing our bodies in cloth, clothing our spirit in ideas, and clothing our communities in institutions—even our bodies, in their onward evolutions, are but the living cloth of the spirit and life-force. We are the tailors of it all, Jack. We take in here, or let out there to accommodate man's newest growth, until man shall someday grow strong enough in his powers to strip himself naked again to face God face-to-face and not in a glass darkly, or for whatever other destiny he may have. But until that time, Jack, the world of men must still find good tailors—not only of clothes but of ideas and institutions and ideals, that will wear with man, and fit his growth, hand in glove with his days. Be a gentleman, Jack, be a Sartorius, whatever happens. Sartor Resartus—make it new." Jack nodded without speaking, more to comfort the sickly man than from comprehending the words whose meaning was thin and cloudy to him and left too much of the real unanswered, and then Sartorius, seeming to have exhausted himself with that effort of speech, slid back into unconsciousness.

As Sartorius' eyes slid closed Eva and Jack thought he had lost consciousness, and Eva shooed Jack away to give him some hours of peaceful sleep. In truth, however, beneath those thickened eyelids, darkened with strain, Sartorius' thoughts and his feelings were not wholly absent. As he had spoken to Jack, Sartorius painfully felt himself a failure as a father, judging himself as having failed in every ideal he urged on his son. He knew his ritual words of idealism to be but a shabbly fig leaf. He moaned silently and inwardly as he looked backward, feeling the process of "growing up" had only transformed him from a failure as a son into a failure as a father.

Inwardly and with a deepening melancholy, Sartorius the father felt himself the heir and prototype simultaneously of all the geological history and climate and biology which had sired his father, and his father's father, and his father's father's father, each transforming and reincarnating himself from boy to man to father, amoung all the rest of our kind, myriad, countless whose instinct to will and power and even violence, rational or irrational, had lifted the species by the scruff of its puling kneck out of the primal treetops beside the onanizing Bonobos, and down to the ground in erect troops, groundwards and then heavenwards on their paths, those myriads and now nameless fathers stretching into the back-infinity of the primal origin, nameless except himself, the Ur-father and Sky-father, who fathered himself intact and complete, contemptuous of all earthbound-bloodlines of petty evolution, black, white, yellow or red, including his own. Yet Sartorius in his deep-floating thoughts did not feel badly as a scion of the race of fathers, notwithstanding its myriad patriarchal shortcomings, and felt that their collective stewardship of that race of jabbering, stammering, copulating and carnivorous he- and she-monkeys with which the word human was eventually to be associated, was not something needful to be too ashamed of, given the raw material they had to work with, obscure apes gifted by the original sin of flesh-eating with an extra pound or two of grey-neurons and a sharp tongue-and-tooth each, and with the achievement of the making of a world and mind and civilization out of the Ur-jungle these last one-hundred thousand out of the last one-hundred million years.

Again he felt himself a failed father, but even that brought a hint of an inward smile. He knew in his heart of hearts that Jack would do better, because of or in spite of what he had been, now that he had passed on the baton to him. And he felt that even as he felt sure he had failed his every ideal as a father, and perhaps as a gentleman, that he could still stand in the ranks of civilized men, failure though he might be, by virtue even of having such an ideal to fail at.

When Eva awoke from her enforced rest she again rushed to Robert's side. He seemed calmer now, and his pulse stronger. She settled again into her vigil, this time with a renewed composure and strength that did much to keep up the spirits of Jack and to keep off the gloom of unspoken pessimism around her. She had simply resolved in her heart to absolutely refuse to let him die—she would refuse permission—absolutely.

Dr. Zendagani returned to find her peaceful and a tower of strength to all the others who came and went. He arrived hopeful that the illness had turned from its crisis and would bring a hopeful result. But he was disappointed. His medicines had failed; the fever was unabated; and Sartorius only more quiet, not more himself, remained in a heavy stupor. Eva, catching all, and more than all, the ancient doctor's fears revealed in an unguarded moment, proposed that they call in further advice or go to hospital. But he judged it would be too dangerous and too complicated to move him and thought of an additional new medicine he could try, and got on the telephone to Teheran to have them rush it out. It was something newly arrived from Switzerland that hadn't been tried here before, and he assured Eva there was every hope it might work, judging from the reports he had read on the Internet of its trials. Dr. Zendagani left her with these encouraging assurances, which reached her ear but did not enter her heart. She was calm, except when she thought of her baby never seeing his father, but she was almost hopeless. The moment of fear she read on the doctor's face had outweighed all her native optimism, and in this state she continued until noon, scarcely stirring from Robert's bed, her thoughts wandering from one image of grief, one suffering friend to another, and her spirits oppressed to the utmost, hoping only that Robert might regain consciousness long enough to allow her to tell him how much she loved him before he had to go she knew not where.

About noon, however, she began—but with a caution—a dread of disappointment which for some time had kept her silent even to her friends—to fancy, to hope she could perceive a slight improvement in Robert's pulse and breathing; she waited, watched, and examined it again and again; and at last, with an agitation more difficult to bury under an exterior calmness than all her foregoing distress, ventured to communicate her hopes to Jack, who remained seated across the room with his head drooped in his hands in sorrow. Then Dr. Zendagani arrived in a rush with the new Swiss medicine and pulled up the pyjama sleeve of Robert's arm and, measuring the amount, injected it beneath the skin. The next twelve hours will tell the story he told Eva, as she kissed the old man's hand. She resolved to forego all sleep and watch over him the rest of the night. By evening, though he was still not lucid, she was joyous in getting some water and soup down his throat. In the wee hours she saw his breathing become more regular and she watched over him eagerly for a return to consciousness. By four in the morning, however, she lost her strength and despite herself dozed in the soft chair beside him. At nine it was not the sounds of the changing of the shift of the guard that awoke her as usual but the touch of a hand upon her own. She looked down to see Robert's hand clasping her own, and she heard his whisper weakly:

"Eva"

She broke down and cried, pushing her face against his in the uncontrollable release of her dying fears and with the flush of the return of life that overwhelmed her:

"Robert! Robert!" was all she could manage, as she saw the light and life returned to his eyes, opening into her own.

Then they were interrupted by the bustle of Dr. Zendagani's arrival with his two nurses, who busied themselves with administering the follow-up doses of the Swiss medicine and helping Robert into a change of clean pyjamas.

Thereafter Sartorius recovered his strength as rapidly as he had fallen ill. The crisis had passed and life returned him to the living. At first still weak, only a day or two later he had returned to normal and was eating heartily to make up for his days of abstinence. The doctor treated them to Khorescht, a meat stew served over Bashmati rice, and Sartorius ate bowl after bowl, and the doctor brought plums, pomegranates, quince, prunes and apricots to refresh them, followed by aash, a thick soup to settle one's stomach. Fortified by such a delightful cuisine, provided as they heard, from the sympathizing Supreme Leader's own table, in but a few days time Sartorius was fully recovered.

After Sartorius had recovered the three men resumed their search for an escape, which the two younger men had continued off and on even during his illness, and one night as the three followed the bed of a large underground river, which had receded to a small trickle allowing them access, they penetrated further than they had ever gone before. After a few hundred meters into this new zone of exploration they found the river joined an even larger flow from the left. Hurrying along the larger passageway they raced to find a hopeful escape before their light would be depleted. Turning once again to the left they were amazed to see another set of lights coming from the opposite direction below. They quickly turned off their light and hid themselves behind an outcropping of massive stalactites and waited to see who the strangers might be—most probably security guards they thought, but even then by following them they might be led to a path of possible escape.

A group of four Al-Quds special forces commandos appeared, bearing electric torches. They were apparently on a routine security patrol. Suddenly one of them spotted the movement of Sartorius' leg as he tried to shift his position of concealment as they rounded the curving path towards him. They shouted out and then ran towards the concealed trio. Jack was concealed on the opposite side of the path, however, and as the four rushed towards Sartorius and Andreas he was able to raise himself up into a firing position. He immediately downed the first two with his lethal dart gun, which fired near silently and allowed him to conceal his position. The surviving two first stopped to aid their fallen comrades, then rushed again forward towards Sartorius. Sartorius grappled with the first while Andreas subdued the second with a choke hold he had been trained to use in combat with the South African army. The remaining Al-Quds man, apparently the largest and oldest of the group, probably a non-commissioned officer, then drew his commando knife and was about to plunge it deep beneath Sartorius' ribs. Sartorius was just able to grasp his wrist holding the knife and momentarily struggle with him. The larger and more powerful man forced Sartorius backwards where his foot and ankle became wedged in the crevice of a rock and twisted. The Al-Quds sergeant was obviously much stronger and Sartorius fought desperately, knowing it would be only a few seconds that he would be able to keep him at bay. He pushed back, knocking the commando's head against an overhanging stalactite, stunning him for half a second. A second later, however the heavily-muscled attacker again pressed Sartorius against the outcropping rocks and was about to plunge the lethal serrated-triangular blade into his chest.

Just then Jack rounded the turn of the tunnel and saw his father under dire attack. He begins to run as fast as he can possibly run. As in a dream he has the agonizing sensation that his legs cannot keep up with the rest of his body, with his heart, his head and eyes, and his hands are so painfully slow in their movement he is tempted to fall down in tears.

A second later Jack races around the obstructing rock and fires his dart gun twice, hitting the behemoth in the neck and chest. Paralysis is instantaneous as Jack follows up with a choke-hold and then a slash to his neck with the man's own knife—death follows within two minutes, and all that is heard from him s a desperate gurgling sound as he dies. Jack rushes to check if his father is all right.

"Dad! Dad!...You all right Dad?" he half-whispered, desperately, loosening his collar.

"Th...nnmg..Tha...nk G'd...djyer here Jack— G'd...I'da...been dead withoutchya." Sartorius gasped back at him, heaving with exhaustion and shock, his body weakened, "OK... think it's only, uh...a...flesh wound—I'll,uh...OK...I'll be OK."

Andreas applied pressure to the slash across Sartorius' left forearm until the bleeding slowed to a trickle and he then bound it with his handkerchief. Then Jack took charge of disposing the bodies down a deep hole filled with slimeish water. They took the weapons and lights from them and removed and kept their uniforms, in case they might be useful for disguise later when executing their future escape.

Then the three men made their way forwards, hoping to discover an exit in the direction from which their antagonists had come. They then got twisted around and found themselves heading in the opposite direction. In the turn Sartorius found himself separated from the others and he felt his way in total darkness along a subterranean cliff-face above a dark ravine. He felt his way along the narrow path, feeling for footholds with his twisted foot, feeling its pain at every step. He wished the pain would go away. Then it occurred to him that if the pain went away there would be nothing to guide him in the dark. To move without pain would be to be blind to danger, blind to death. Yet we are condemned to feel our way in the darkness, he thought. In the blackness pain was his guide. Without pain, he would have to rely on his sense of sight alone. In the darkness or the near dark one would fall into the abyss without it. Then, after a long while, moving left he finally heard their voices. He cried out. They came. Then they rested a short spell together and walked on. At length, turning once again to the left they were amazed to see a new set of lights coming from the opposite direction below. They again quickly turned off their light and hid themselves behind an outcropping of massive stalagmites and stalactites and waited, expecting another encounter with more Al-Quds commandos.

To their amazement the two figures appearing before their eyes were dressed in the immaculate dress of 18th Century European aristocrats, with knee-breeches and stockings, elegant gold-laced vests and longish dress-jackets with tails, apparently dressed for some antique ball in a royal court! Additionally they wore atop their heads miner's helmets topped with electric arc-lamps and carried a peculiar torch—a glassed bottle atop a wooden handle shedding luminous brightness before it, yet seeming to contain the incandescent figure of a radiant miniscule man as a filament. As Sartorius listened in the darker shadow he was further amazed to hear them talking in German, but in a Hochdeutsch of a slightly antiquated accent and diction, as from another century. Then the mysterious pair rounded the turn in the passageway and the first of them came into clear sight!

His appearance in full view was even more remarkable, short with brilliant, sparkling eyes and crude impudent lips, revealing uneven teeth. His nose was slightly longish for his face, but fairly aquiline, giving him an appearance suggestive of nobility and he wore his hair longish about the ears and long in back, tied behind with elegance. His face was powerful and brown—full of wrinkles, yet with every wrinkle full of expression! And everywhere there was such nobleness and firmness, such repose and greatness! The breast was powerful, broad, and arched; the arms and thighs were elegant, and of the most perfect shape; nowhere, on the whole body, was there a trace of either fat or of leanness or decay. The simple yet elegant 18th Century clothes—a blue frock coat with a gold star and a gold-embroidered waistcoat, a pocket watch of gold on a golden chain stretched across the vest, an antique silken tie worn wound about the neck and hand-tied in an elegant bow—gave an aristocratic mien yet without any hint of pretense, effeminacy or dandyism. A perfect yet fully mature and human man stood in great beauty before Sartorius.

Yet not even this figure was the most amazing spectacle before their eyes. His companion was dressed in clothes of a similar cut—a frock coat with a star, this time of a golden yellow with a silver vested waistcoat crossed by a blue sash. He wore the same cut of knee breeches and stockings of the 18th Century worn by the first man, his in an egg-shell white. He wore also a peculiar iron rod inserted behind his left ear, much like a pencil left there absent-mindedly by a bookkeeper. Across his wide forehead was a peculiar golden metallic band which seemed to circle and bind his entire head and forehead. His yellow frock coat was of the most elegant cut, but its appearance was slightly marred by the unruly appearance of his furry tail protruding from the slit in the rear. Indeed not only the tail but the entire face revealed a visage not entirely human, but having the shape and form of a man-sized monkey, yet this companion spoke fluently to the first man in fully human speech and moved with near human movements and gestures. His quick and active eyes were bulged forward and over-bright, as if covered by a shiny glaze baked on in a kiln, and their movements seemed to reveal both an overactive intelligence and a quizzical sense of humour. Only a closer inspection revealed that the hair and beard enveloping his face was more than a human growth, framing and surrounding a snout rather than a human nose and mouth, like something out of the "Planet of the Apes" movie.

Sartorius and Andreas remained hidden, not knowing what to expect from such a pair, nor knowing if they would aid or hinder their attempts to escape. They then overheard their conversation. The second of the two, seemingly half-man and half-monkey, spoke first:

"They should have reached this place by now. I will scout ahead for them and you remain here with the Homunculus." he pronounced. With this declaration he drew out a tuft of his hairs from his neck and beard and blew them into the surrounding air. Each of the hairs then transformed itself into a clone of its Monkey-Master and they gathered into a troop. The Monkey-Master then instructed his followers to search every crevice and passageway, nook and cranny for the lost spielunkers. Then he drew the iron rod, about the size of a large chopstick, from behind his ear and waved it about until it seemed to magically grow to the size of a shepherd's staff and he ran off down the bed of the underground river, followed by an hundred cloned reincarnations of himself, mirroring and following him. After ten minutes he returned, and one by one his reincarnated clones rendezvoused after him, all bringing negative reports of the whereabouts of the sought for wanderers.

By this time Sartorius and Andreas had agreed to take their chances by revealing themselves, and they walked forth from their hiding place not far from the two and called out to them:

"Friends!—Freunde!" They called out in English and in German.

"You are most welcome! Come forward—we are your friends indeed and we have been searching for you!—Don't be alarmed by appearances—we are here to help you!" the first of the pair announced in an elegant English tinted by a slight German accent.

"Thank God!" cried out Andreas, extending his hand in a welcoming handshake.

"Allow me to introduce myself and my dear friend" intoned the first, "...I am Johann—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and this my esteemed colleague is Mr. Sun Wu Kong, known also by his Indian name—Hanuman. There is no time for explanation if we are to help you. Mr. Sun and his subalterns here will take you back to collect your friends. Then we must journey downwards along this underground rivercourse. We have no time to lose."

"We are willingly in your hands" replied Sartorius, "I am Robert Sartorius and this is Mr. Andreas Sarkozy. We shall postpone the social graces and pleasantries until we have made good our escape." With that the hirsute clones of Sun Wu Kong clasped Andreas and Sartorius under the arms, found their way back to Jack, and then quick-walked them to the brick enclosure where they re-opened the clandestine hole and awakened their companions. As the former Presidents—Carter, Clinton, Gorbachov, and Tony Blair and the other former officials—Boutros Boutros Ghali, Perez de Cuellar had already been distributed to other of the nuclear facilities as human shields, and as Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao had already been transported to their respective embassies in Teheran to serve the similar function of preventing any nuclear attack on the capital city itself, they were forced to leave without them.

The small band of prisoners, thus extricated, followed their liberators downward along the subterranean rivercourse. The river was joined by innumerable inflowing tributaries and soon swelled into larger and larger proportions, flowing ever more swiftly through an extended series of broader and broader tunneled caverns. Sartorius helped Eva, beginning to be heavy with child in her pregnancy, to keep up with the group. They walked and walked along a veritable forest of stalactites and stalagmites, sometimes slipping on the smoothness of the wetted flowing limestone. From time to time Eva would lag behind, resting her hand on a stalactite while she regained her breath. Suddenly she let out a shriek. Jack dashed back with the Al-Quds submachine gun in his hands.

Something looking like an immense moray eel or snake was emerging from a tunnel hole and raising on its tail, lifting its head to strike at Eva. In its head showed a set of pincer teeth like those in the belly-beak of a giant squid, and its red beady eyes seemed to focus with hypnotic effect upon Eva's face. Jack emptied a full magazine into the infernal creature's head and torso, and it exploded in a great green fountain of foul-smelling blood and tissue. Sartorius rushed to calm Eva, now hyperventilating in near hysteria.

"Good God! What the hell was that?" Jack shouted, while emptying a final round from the captured pistol into the thing to assure it was dead.

Sun Wu Kong, just reaching them after running back upon hearing the shots answered: "A Tatzelwurm!—top of the line caecilian for subterranean predators—they have evolved for millions of years in these underground caves and tunnels—you have to watch yourself in the dark—but they are nearly blind and will run from a bright light. We had better hasten away—they are like sharks—once they smell blood hundreds may converge in a feeding frenzy."

Finally, the band emerged onto the shore of a large internal subterranean lake under the artificial sky of an immense cavern several hundred meters high, which overarched an underground bay several kilometers in breadth and length, all bathed in a soft white light like moonlight, inexplicably though as the lunar light could not possibly have been carried to such a depth within the earth.

"We have arrived at the rendezvous point" announced Sun Wu Kong with a grand smile, "You may all take a well deserved rest—Here in my pouch you will find a bit to eat and drink."

"Rendezvous?" asked Sartorius quizzically, "What rendezvous is that?"

But before either Goethe or Sun Wu Kong could open their mouths to answer the eyes of their interlocutors were transfixed with a shock so severe as to render them wholly beyond the power of speech. For not two hundred meters in front of them the periscopes and conning tower of a fantastic and futuristic submarine clad with stealth warfare armour, broke the surface of the subterranean bay and a well disciplined crew opened the hatches and filed out onto the deck. The Captain, in a blue uniform, officer's cap and beard ordered them to shift the rubber boats and make for the shore. In five minutes four large rubber boats arrived on the shore to pick up the fleeing band, and in another five minutes they were being assisted in clambering up onto the submarine's deck and helped down the metal ladders into its cavernous hold. The Captain then curtly ordered the ship to close the hatches and dive. When they were thus safely underway Goethe turned to Sartorius and to Andreas and motioned to introduce the Captain:

"Mr. Sartorius, Mr Sarkozy, allow me the honour to introduce the Captain—Captain Nemo, this is Professor Robert Sartorius and Mr. Andreas Sarkozy." he intoned graciously.

"The pleasure is entirely my own" answered Captain Nemo, "Welcome aboard the Nautilus. This is my First Officer, Mr. Zheng He, and my Second Officer, Mr. Sindbad—he will show you to your quarters and get you some food and drink to make you comfortable. As they made their way along the length of the ship towards the sleeping quarters they passed through the main commons room above which was inscribed in gold letters a motto in Latin: 'Mobilis in Mobili.'"

Once the party of rescuers and rescued settled into their berths they yielded first to the needs of their exhausted bodies and spent half a day in precious sleep, some longer and some shorter. By turns some would wake and the crew would show them the showers and the ship's mess where able to eat and drink. Sartorius raised himself while letting Eva continue with her so badly needed sleep. After Goethe showed him to ship's doctor for treatment and redressing of his wound they returned to the commons to eat, joining Mohammad who was waiting for them. After eating the pain from his wound sharpened and the doctor sedated Sartorius and he again lay beside Eva, both unconscious to the world. After helping the flagging Sartorius back to his cabin Mohammad and Goethe were then left alone to finish their breakfast and tea, and Mohammad began to ask questions of him.

"How did you know where we were and how did you find us?" he asked.

"Life attracts life." replied Goethe.

"But how could you know we were there?" he repeated.

"We were sent by the Magister Ludi, whom you will meet when the ship arrives. He gave us the mission of finding you and guiding you to him."

"How did he know where we were?"

"The Magister Ludi is the overseer of the Crystal Bead Game, about which you will all learn after your arrival. Suffice it to say that the Magister Ludi read the omens from the refractions of the lights of the Seed Crystals in the Grand Retort. The omens speak through them to those who understand how to read them, as the game progresses. They speak of the past, of the present and of things that may come. They showed that your leader Professor Sartorius had entered the Questway, and that his quest and your own and of your companions would run parallel and intersect with the present crisis, and thus only he and you may have the power to resolve it. Within Middle Earth, in the Grand Retort in Castalia the home of the Crystal Bead Game we exist at 90 degrees to the flow of surface time at the earth's circumference, and at 90 degrees variance to the flow of universal time. Thus by vector deviation we may in parallax time perceive glimpses of the past and future."

"Muktub!" ejaculated Mohammad.

"Muktub...in Arabic we often speak of Muktub, or of fate, saying, Muktub!—or "It is written."

"In a sense..." responded Goethe, "...everything may be written—But the Book in which it is written is alive! We call this living book Spiritus Mundi, the Soul of the World, and what is written grows and evolves as the book does. In Parallax Time we perceive what is written, what is destined, but we also perceive, by exercise of Imagination, the crossroads and rail switches by which the train of destiny may be shunted from its inevitability into another course. Everything on earth is continuously being transformed—because the earth is alive and it has a soul. We are part of that soul, so we rarely realize or are conscious that it is working for us, just as we rarely think of the work of our lungs and heart except in the moments of crisis when we suddenly become aware of their anxious sound rising in our ears. All of you here have risen to your Calling, to your personal Dreampath or Questway and thus have become part of the Soul of the World as it writes itself and is written by the Hand that Writes All. Once a man rises to his Calling he becomes part of that soul and little by little, day by day, if he continues on his calling and remains worthy of it everything in the universe collaborates in his success. That is why we are here together."

"But who is given this calling?" asked Mohammad.

"No matter what he does every person on earth plays a central role in the history of the world and normally he does not know it. We all and everything has a destiny and a part in the world. Those who dream and aspire, quest and go in search of those dreams merge for those moments with the spirit and soul of the world, and help it and themselves in their mutual onward evolution. Many people dream or are touched by dreams but few follow their dreams into the path of their personal Questway. They simply let life proceed in its own direction, drifting and shielding their hearts from suffering and painful realities, evading life, and tumble with the world, as their dreams die, helplessly falling towards their own fates. You few persist in your dreaming and in your questing and make your way to us. Just as all roads lead to Rome, all personal Questways lead to the Spiritus Mundi. All is one.

You see, Mohammad, you and Sartorius are dreamers, but one does not just dream from one's own mind, soul, unconscious and psyche. Rather, I would say, we dream anonymously and communally, albeit each in his own way. The Great Soul, of which you and I and all of us are but only an infinitesimal part, dreams through you, in your way, of things which, secretly, it always dreams, has dreamt, and will forever dream. This great soul, the Master Dreamer, is the Spiritus Mundi.

As the Upanishads say, all is one and united in brahman, and your soul, your personal Questway, your atman, is but one dimension of the greater brahman. But none of this can be learned by mere words. Everything you need to know you learn through your journey and by your journey and no other way. No one can tell you the truth: you must live it. Everything you can learn comes through action and experience and the living through. The words I can give you can take on no substance without your own experience. So be patient. You will learn more of your Calling and your personal Questway and that of Professor Sartorius as you continue your journey in the only way there is to learn—by living them."

"And is that how you found your own Calling?" Mohammad riposted.

"The poet becomes a seer through a long immense and reasoned derangement of the senses. All shapes of love, suffering, and madness are his Questway. He searches himself; he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences...But now you need rest to gather your strength. Later we may not have time to rest so do so now. The world is in grave peril. I too need rest, so I will bid you good repose."

# CHAPTER IX.

### The Central Sea,

### The Crystal Bead Game & The Quest

In the Crystal Bead Game, contemplation, the secrets of the Chinese I Ching and Western mathematics and music, Sufi and Gnostic contemplation, masterpieces of all human arts and fusions of the spirit—Apollinian, Dionysian and Promethean Tragedy, jazz and the African Ritual Tragedy of Ogun, the Yin and the Yang and the hexagrams, the Master Work of the Alchemists, the Dao and the Sufi fitrah,—all the artifacts of the accumulated genius and heritage of all nations, religions, philosophies and races on earth are employed in fashioning a matrix of the mind and spirit resolving the perennial conflicts of life into a unifying design. The playing pieces are Crystal Beads—Seed Crystals played within a transparent aquarium-like Reactor Core of fluid human knowledge and experience immersing and containing within it a matrix resembling a four dimensional chess game through which light pulses and refracts like the laser light within a fibre-optic cable. The spherical and transparent Reactor Core lies at the center of a circular amphitheater on the shores of the Great Central Sea at the center of the Earth in the monastic spiritual community of Castalia, Middle Earth. The head of the Order of the Templars of the Game of Castalia, the Magister Ludi, is also the Lord Master of the Game and acts as its referee and director. The players are seated in the surrounding amphitheater and by turns introduce new crystallizations within the Reactor Core. The players are the greatest creative and contemplative minds of the earth of all times and ages, and the crystal pieces are played by manipulating the control rods which extend deep into the Liquid Base Solution, much like in the core of a nuclear reactor submerged in its iridescent bath of heavy water. By placing a new Seed Crystal, or Silmaril within the existing concatenation within the matrix submerged in the Liquid Base Solution of the Reactor's retort the flow of light energy through the system changes and a new chain of crystal precipitates out of solution, altering the Crystal Matrix and revealing a new emanation of the light of the spirit in sublime art. The attainment of newer and higher levels, densities and intensities of this Inlightenment is the Game's objective, fulfilling the Life Force's inherent and self-fulfilling Will to Delight—in pursuit of an ultimate and infinite Delightentment. The Base Solution contains and is linked by chains of causation and replication to the DNA of the human race, the ultimate common heritage of mankind, which in its onward evolution mirrors the outcomes of the game and thereby the historical destiny of the planet. Thus the destiny of the earth is played out in the destiny of the game and ever the one must find its resolution in the other. By this reciprocal pathway the conscious and unconscious will of the world dialectically transcend each other and manifest themelves in a newer synthesis, "The θέλημα,"—Thelema, or "True Will" of the world. By this reciprocal pathway life replicates the outcome of the game as the game itself mirrors, parallels and embodies the sum total and onward flow and evolution of all reiterated human historical and imaginative life experience on earth, conscious and unconscious. But the players are never in control of the game; rather they are ever more controlled by it. They are like sailors on the sea who can only move by manipulating the immeasurable flows of energy surrounding them by slightly altering the miniscule tools under their control, the set of the sails and the inclination of a rudder within an ever flowing fluid and gaseous mass infinitely beyond their control. This vast energy which moves the game and the players alike, flowing in tides about them and rising in parallel within them from their unconscious depths, and only fractionally accessible to the sails and rudders of human consciousness, is called Spiritus Mundi. And, as the movements of the winds and the seas of earth are ultimately derived from the energy radiated from the eternally burning sun, so the Spiritus Mundi in turn reflects, refracts, transforms and embodies the energies and spirit of the universal cosmic creation.

Thus it was, when the Nautilus broke the surface of the Great Central Sea, having navigated the Chthonic Passage which leads from the surface seas and oceans surrounding the continents of the earth to the vast system of the Amniotic Central Seas within, that on mounting the now emergent conning tower of that renown submersible Sartorius and Andreas, Nemo, and the small band of refugees from the surface conflict, beheld a most wondrous sight. Across the short expanse of water of the Bay of Pellucidar that divided them from the shore appeared before their eyes and reflected in the babbling surface of the intervening waters the marvelous apparition of the huge spherical Reactor Core pulsing with light and energy at the center of the populated amphitheater on the shore of Castalia, Middle Earth. As Captain Nemo anchored and secured his craft from the great pier jutting out into the waters a large launch sped towards them. A very few minutes later the recently rescued refugees and their twin guides, Goethe and Sun Wu Kong accompanied Nemo and his officers onto dry land.

As they walked down the long jutting pier and onto the shore they found themselves confronted by the approach of a vast procession from the amphitheater towards them. At its head was a most marvelous patriarch dressed in iridescent robes and with the long flowing beard and pure-shining white hair of the Ancient of Days. He announced himself as the Magister Ludi, Magus of Light and welcomed the newcomers to Castalia on behalf of the Order of Knights Templar of Castalia, Middle Earth and the participants in the ongoing game.

"You are none too soon, Captain Nemo, you can see for yourself that the Reactor Core is overheating with the Stalemate in the game, and if no solution is found soon it will descend into a fiery catastrophic meltdown. This has never before happened in the history of the game. At the rate of the rise in temperature I think we can count on only three or four more days. But in this no one can be certain—we are only extrapolating our ignorance. Everyone here is already occupied in preventing the meltdown, so you newcomers will have to make the journey. From my knowledge the only hope is to get to the Council of the Immortals convening at the Black Hole Amphitheater in the center of our galaxy and declare an emergency, requesting that they supply the missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril, at once to prevent the extermination of the human race in a nuclear Armageddon. If the Reactor Core bursts, on the surface of the earth a thermonuclear war will break out, leading to the end of modern life and civilization as we know it. You are the last hope."

"My ship is at your command, Magister Ludi. Professor Sartorius and his people have agreed to undertake the quest, and Lord Goethe and Master Sun Wu Kong are ready to accompany them. Their Questways are one. Are there none of your people who can join us?" he queried.

"We are all engaged in preventing the Core Reactor from going into meltdown...I can't spare anyone. No wait, there is a way we can use the backup system to free up one hand. I will ask for a volunteer to accompany you...Gentlemen, Ladies is there any who will join the Quest for the Seed Crystal, the Silmaril?"...he turned about and looked into the crowd of faces. None moved forward. Then a pause ensued and he called out again. This time two African figures strode boldly forward dressed in brilliant headdresses and a skirt of palm fronds. The first announced himself:

"I am Obatala—I will nominate and he has accepted, my brother Ogun to accompany you on your journey and quest. He is known as the Lord of Onward Struggle, Protector of Orphans, Roof over the Homeless, and Terrible Guardian of the Sacred Oath," and then he began to sing a chant of praise:

"In the name of Oxalá, Creator of All and Lord of Light, and of Yamanja the Fair, of Xango and Oxum, of Omolo Lord of Death and of the Dark Lord Exu:

Rich-laden in his home, yet, decked in palm fronds

He ventures forth, refuge of the down-trodden,

To rescue slaves he unleashed the judgment of war

Because of the blind, plunged into the forest

Of curative herbs, Bountiful One

Who stands bulwark to offsprings of the dead in heaven...

Salutations O lone being, who bathes in rivers of blood...

Ogun!"

"Do you undertake this Quest, Lord Ogun?" asked the Magister Ludi.

"I do, my Lord Magister Ludi. I pledge my heart and blood and life to its fulfillment." he responded gravely.

"Very well, your request is accepted. I can spare but one man and you are he." the Magister Ludi replied. "Then I bid all of you farewell and God's speed. You must depart immediately—our fates depend on it. Good voyage Captain Nemo—but beware—Mephisto's U-boat The Baphomet has been sighted in the sea three days ago. To all of you embarking on this solemn Quest, you—modern Argonauts, you the Warriors of Light, I look forward to your happy return, and if not, God's love and grace to you for your hearts and courage."

As the Voyagers prepared for their departure the Magister Ludi summoned Sartorius to his private chambers. He was led down a long hallway occupied by liveried servants—the multi-colour skinned, turbaned and hermaphroditic Mégamicres, the traditional ceremonial "Swiss Guard" or Beefeaters of Castalia, Middle Earth and the surrounding adjacent county of Agartha-Shamballa, each holding before them the ornate phallic ceremonial staffs, the heel of which they banged loudly against the floor as he passed. He entered the Magister Ludi's private chamber and spoke to him:

"Professor Sartorius I know that you must feel great trepidation and anxiety, even outright fear to be given this momentous Calling and Quest. I myself embarked upon a similar quest long ago, and felt the same—but there is no time to talk of that now. Let it suffice that I assure you that you are here in consequence of your quest and the courage in pursuit of your dream through your life—which means that you are living your Questway, your questpath, which though harrowing is also blessed with helping and sustaining powers. When you fear for your own adequacy in the face of these unprecedented challenges remember that you are here on your life's questpath as a consequence of following your dream—and where a man follows his dream's questpath he becomes part of the Spiritus Mundi, and thus the entire universe will conspire to help you complete it!

"Thank you Your Excellency. I have made my decision. You may rest assured that I will undertake the quest, though I can in no way be confident that my abilities are in any way equal to the immense challenge. But I have made my decision."

"Making a decision is only the beginning of a thing. Then you must ride the current and the unforeseen consequences. You must follow your questpath and be alert to the omens that may lead you to find the hidden forces which are allied in your cause. You must discover the signposts of your questway which will keep you on the right path."

"How do I find such omens and signposts? I don't know how."

"You know much more than you realize. Listen to your heart. It knows all things because it comes from the Spiritus Mundi, the Soul of the World, and it will one day return there. If a man is following his dream and living out his desired destiny he knows everything he needs to know. What he doesn't know will be revealed to him by the forces allied to his cause. Believe me, the signs and the omens are there waiting for you and you will discover them. Everything in life is a sign for those who learn to listen to their hearts, which will speak to them in the Language of the World. The wise men understood that this natural world is only an image of a deeper paradise and paradigm of unfathomed dimensions. The existence of the world is simply a guarantee of the existence of this deeper and more perfect one, and therefore there dwell within it the signs, and omens and hidden allied forces which will aid you. This world is created that you may come to understand the wonder of its wisdom. That is what I mean when I assure you that all that is necessary will be revealed to you in action. Action is our journey through the signs of this world, a forest of signs, and into the deeper and more perfect one to which they point. The symbols like the crystals are but the signposts of the Way. There is only one thing that makes a dream and a quest impossible: the fear of failure...But let me give you something which will aid and protect you on the journey. This is my Crystal Aegis. Wear it as a talisman around your neck. If you show it to anyone on your way they will immediately recognize its authority and will aid you on your journey. It is like a cosmic safe conduct pass or passport." With that the Magister Ludi hung the talisman around Sartorius' neck, a gold medallion in which was embedded a brilliant crystal. Upon the Seed Crystal was written a message in symbols Sartorius stared long at it but could not decipher.

"It is a code." Sartorius observed aloud to him.

"No. It's like a signpost of the journey. It can't be understood by reason alone. The crystal is a direct passage to the Soul of the World, to the Spiritus Mundi. You will begin to decipher and understand it as you live your journey, not before. Your heart's Intuition will reveal it to you as you live the journey. It will speak to you in the Universal Language, the Language of the World that transcends and needs no words—the language of living experience."

"Intuition?"

"Yes. Your intuition is but the sudden immersion of the soul, into the current of life, where the histories and destinies of all things and all people are interconnected. When you listen to your heart and it reveals its knowledge to you in the Universal Language, it opens a direct and wordless channel of communication with the Spiritus Mundi, which aids you with its knowledge."

"I thank you Your Excellency."

"Any more questions before you depart?" he asked.

"Just one. What is this Silmaril that we must find—why is it so important?"

"The Silmaril contains the parallel sub-structure of reality, but unenchained by the constraints of history and time. Within its unique and primordial crystalline structure, actually a quasicrystal in which the lattice includes repetitions of both rational and irrational numbers—is the sole preserved essence of the Big Bang of Creation—the pure light of its original Essence, the last remaining vestige before modern light was polluted by the dullness of matter and degraded by time and causation. This doubling of Creation's original essence, when perfectly mirrored and overlayed by supreme arts within the reactor of the Grand Retort, in parallax with the essence that drives history and the universe, each image in vectoral conjunction its parallel reality through parallel dimensions and beyond the constraints of time, allows the Vector Deviation and Dimensional Parallax, which in turn enables a bending, or alteration of destiny, by virtue of the Gravitational Pull Imagination exerts upon matter and energy, just as matter may bend light This alternative pathway revealed and unleashed in the Silmaril thus parallels in importance the discovery and realization of Imaginary Numbers, which also provide a doubling of the Mathematical Creation.

In essence the Silmaril Crystal provides an itinerary, a mapping and a pathway to a hidden extradimensional space of hidden possibilities. Doubling the light of the here and now with the primordial remnant of the pure and original light of the Big Bang, the original Creation—a double refraction in multiple dimensions takes place in compound powers—2, 4, 16...n to the nth ...permitting a view and access to a Creation Set just to the side of the flow of time of this one, so close as to overlap, where the membrane between the Real and the Imaginary worlds, refracted and mapped in imaginary numbers, in many places becomes too frail, too permeable, for stability—then an alteration of the sum total and summation of all vectors—an alteration of destiny may become possible."

"I will have to take your word for it—thank you Your Excellency."

"No. It is I who thank you. But we may thank each other and thank the highest spirit above all. Now time is short and I must speed you on your way. Vaya con Dios."

With that the Voyagers of the Quest re-embarked in the launch and again boarded the Nautilus, accompanied by their new comrade Ogun. The Nautilus set off towards the center of the Central Sea, towards the Island of Omphalos, where the portal Gateway to the Umbilical Wormhole, the sole passage to the center of the galaxy and its Black Hole Amphitheater and the Council of the Immortals was to be found.

In the cabin, Andreas asked Goethe who this Ogun was, as he had never heard of him. Goethe replied:

"Ogun is of the cosmogony of the African Yoruba, but he is also the universal hero of the Dionysian and the Promethean spirit, translated into African terms if you will. Who is Ogun do you ask?...He is a complex figure, the "Lord of the Road" and one of the few hero-deities who seek "The Way"—alongside man. He is a master craftsman, a warrior, an artist and a farmer—he is the essence of destruction and creation...he is "The Way Opener." In the Yoruba cosmogony he is the jungle guide who hacks a path for the gods through sheer will through the impassable jungle-forest of Primordial Chaos. Charter member of the League of Legends, some call him a god and some a hero, some a Savage Christ—he is a being who comes to man anguished by and sharing a continuing sense of incompleteness—the incompleteness of the gods without man and of man without the gods, and a quest to open the way of reunion to that lost completeness and totality. He is like Prometheus in bestowing craft, song and poetry upon men, and has initiated humans into the mysteries of the universe, and the mysteries of the creativity which brought the universe into being.

Ogun came into being as an impassable gulf had grown separating man from the gods and the cosmic origin. Neither the gods nor man could be complete without the other, yet they were separated by an impassable barrier, an impenetrable void. Ogun undertook the Quest to cross that Void—He became an explorer of that Chaos; he cleared the primordial jungle, plunged through the abyss and called on others to follow. For this feat the Gods offered Ogun the crown as the King of the Gods, but Ogun refused it and dwelt in the wilderness instead to seek wisdom and wholeness. Then journeying again in the opposite direction, upon arriving on earth he was offered the crown of kingship over men. Again he refused and lived in the mountains in solitude. Again men sought him out to assume kingship over them, and pleaded so strongly that at length Ogun assented and came down from the mountains dressed in his battle dress and smeared with blood across his whole body. When the men saw him they ran away, later sending a messenger to say that he looked too terrible and frightful, and that if he would only clean himself of all the blood they would come back and be his subjects. He was crowned king and in war after war led his subjects to victory in battle.

Then finally came a day in the lull of battle when the Trickster god Esu left a gourd of palm wine spiked with a drug from a secret herb for Ogun to drink. Ogun found it exceptionally delicious and drained the gourd to its dregs. But now the drunken Ogun found his vision blurred and confused friend and foe. He turned on his own men and slaughtered them, leaving himself covered in blood. In despair Ogun fled and was literally torn apart by the cosmic winds, yet succeeded in rescuing himself by harnessing the untouched part of himself: the will. He put himself together like Isis reassembled Osiris, and resurrected himself like the fallen Christ. This is Ogun." he recited.

Sartorius wished to welcome and thank Ogun for joining the Quest and becoming one of the Argonauts, so he invited him to a special dinner party in his honour in the main stateroom. At the end of the dinner as leader and spokesman for the whole group he toasted Ogun with palm wine and gave him a copy of Shelly's poetry which he had memorized as a boy and then written out in ornate style for Ogun:

Percy Bysshe Shelley Prometheus Unbound:

In each human heart terror survives

The raven it has gorged: the loftiest fear

All that they would disdain to think were true:

Hypocrisy and custom make their minds

The fanes of many a worship, now outworn.

They dare not devise good for man's estate,

And yet they know not that they do not dare.

Ogun thanked Sartorius profusely and they lost themselves and their worries for an hour in palm wine and song making. Eva danced with Ogun, and being the only female present, by turns with all the rest of the party as they sang songs, recited poetry and capered amoung themselves. After several hours Eva retired exhausted to recover her energy in sleep and the men drank and indulged in fine Cuban cigars until the late hours, one by one slipping off to their quarters to rest. At length, the boat surfacing Sartorius and Andreas, the last remaining in the stateroom mounted the ladder-stairs to take in the night air before retiring for sleep, strolling up and down the deck as the crew accomplished its necessary maintenance. Something phosphorescent in the sea kept the night well illuminated. Though the moon could not be visible in the deepest bowels of the earth the vault of overarching basalt gave off a suffused iridescent light reminiscent of moonlight and gaps in a cloud-like fog revealed the glimmering of embedded crystal formations in the vaulted-sky which impersonated in Sartorius' mind the light of stars. A cold katabatic wind beat against their backs and ears hastening the boat onwards into the chthonic night. Finally a physical weariness overcame their energies and they returned below and into the realm of unknowing sleep.

# CHAPTER X.

### The Island of Omphalos

### & The Mothers

As the Nautilus sped away silently across the sea's floor in silent running wary of ambush by Mephisto's U-boat The Baphomet, Sartorius refreshed by a short but regenerative sleep tried to prepare himself for the tests and trials sure to await himself and his questing comrades. The Master of the Game, Magister Ludi, had briefed him upon leaving Castalia that the only way to save the game, and hence the fate of the human race was to retrieve the missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril and enter it into play in the game's matrix before the apocalyptic moment—The Crisis and moment of truth. The missing crystal was the only remaining piece that could yet be played in the game of the human spirit that could prevent stalemate and the fatal regression of all cumulated human powers into a final cataclysmic cycle of entropy and self-destruction. Only with it would the human life spirit, the Spiritus Mundi, attain the needed quantum leap of affirmation and by reaching the next Degree of Freedom and Negentropy escape the downward pull of Entropy, Thanatos and Dissolution and ascend to the next evolutionary level of onward energization of the Life Force. Without it the empire of negation would reign victorious.

According to the Magister Ludi, the double conic helixes of the game, representing the evolving human life spirit had reached their apex and history nearing completion of its movement along the outer gyre was beginning its corresponding course along the inner gyre. This apocalyptic moment would decide whether the movement along the inner gyre would be upwards or downwards. As the shark must always move forward to prevent death—so in the histories and fates of the lives of individuals as well as civilizations, life's energies would be impelled ever onward, either upwards in a quantum leap forward towards a higher synthesis, or an unraveling downward descent into entropy, decay and surrender to the forces of Thanatos and dissolution, awaiting in latent appetency a newer creation evolving from the unraveling and dissolution of the old. The brutal law of life dictated the evolution must be either upward or downward, towards greater life or fated dissolution and death—a constant yin and yang cycle in and out of the ever fecund-saturated solution of appetent existence and non-existence;—peace without fecundity, renewal of the life force and onward creation being only the illusory hiatus preceding the descent towards death and the start of life's neverending succeeding evolutionary cycles.

The missing Silmaril Seed Crystal could only be obtained from the Council of the Immortals gathering at that moment in the amphitheatre within the black hole at the center of the galaxy. There was but one possible passageway to that amphitheatre thousands of light-years away: the Umbilical Wormhole short-circuiting the curve of Space-Time from the center of the earth to the galactic focus.

Before they had embarked Goethe and the Magister Ludi had struggled to explain to Sartorius the most elementary principles of how the Missing Seed Crystal within the Grand Retort would channel the Universal Energy into the Spiritus Mundi and how it was possible to move faster than the speed of light through the Wormhole and Sartorius wrestled desperately to comprehend but it was clear that he was out of his depth. Twenty years ago he had made a valiant attempt to read and take in Einstein's General Theory of Relativity but after six months had only a partial notion of what it was all about. Now, from Goethe and the Magister Ludi it was revealed to him that forces only dimly anticipated by Einstein himself were now in play in determining the fate of mankind.

Goethe and Einstein had attempted to give Sartorius a brief layman's introduction while the latter rested from his work at the control rods at the Grand Retort. They spoke to eachother in their native German and Goethe attempted to translate the ideas into both English and into concepts and forms of expression capable of being grasped by the non-specialist layman, assisted by Einstein changing into English for Sartorius's benefit:

"How shall we put it Robert? Like learning a new language you have to set aside your own language's grammar and operations to enter into another system of thought and expression, which is only partially possible. You know that in our day Albert and I were deeply engaged in the questions of light, mass, energy, space, time and the multiple dimensions of human and cosmic experience. We grappled with the questions of whether light was a wave or a particle, a phenomenon of matter or of energy. What we discovered of course was that both our words and our concepts were inadequate to the complexity of a reality of a dimensional manifoldness hithertofore undreamed of. Matter and energy at the deeper level of multiple dimensions were shown to be but different faces of a more deeply embedded unity. Like the parable of the blind men and the elephant, where one blind man feels the trunk and likens the elephant to a snake and another feels the leg and likens it to a tree. Each only had a partial truth to offer, based on his limited experience and the limits of his conceptual framework and language of expression. One 'blind man' looked at light and saw that it was something like a particle, and another that it was something like a wave. Now we know that our past dilemmas were false representations arising from the limited nature of our conceptions and language. Our subsequently evolved science has established that all those little things like quarks, protons, electrons, photons, neutrons and neutrinos, bosons, hadrons and leptons that we previously thought of as particles are actually of a deeper nature—we might term them "strings" within multiple dimensions. Thus, rather than hard particles they prove themselves to be vibrating strands of energy oscillating within eleven known dimensions—possible more—and the oscillating quantum states which we perceive momentarily of them are but the momentary and fragmentary glimpses of the blind men of the greater elephant—a deeper unity within unseen dimensions—but the elephant exists in eleven dimensions instead of our supposed three or even Albert's posited four! These oscillating strings of energy—we call them 'Superstrings' for convenience's sake, are very tiny, and viewed in the cross-section of our own dimensionally limited experience and perceptual perspective they appear to us as point particles. You see, we utilize these "Superstrings" within the Grand Retort in transiting the eleven dimensions and channeling their energy to a slight degree to partially shape and steer human evolution within our familiar four dimensions—the world and time—spacetime. Schrödinger's Cat would thus not suffer an imagined quantum death but rather his life would be oscillating between the eleven dimensions!—much better than his mere nine lives! By bending spacetime within the eleven dimensions it is possible for you to transit the wormhole, even exceeding the conventionally understood speed of light in your cosmic journey, as seen from our limited conventional experience. When you reach the black hole at the center of our Milky Way you will then further transit the polydimensional "Membrane" or "Brane"—passing through the successive surfaces of all eleven dimensions in a single quantum leap into the nexus with the infinite—the Council of the Immortals."

Here Einstein grew enthusiastic and his eyes lighting up he switched into his heavily accented English, brushing his hands through his tangled mass of disheveled hair to enlighten Sartorius more directly, blurting out: "You see it is really quite simple once you see it! The heterotic string consists of a closed sting that has two types of vibrations, clockwise and counterclockwise, which are treated differently as they transit the polydimensional matrix. With aid of the focus of the telluric currents at the Ombilicus Mundi we can adjust the tenor of these vibrations at our end of the heterotic string, allowing the possibility of transit. The clockwise vibrations live in a ten-dimensional space. The counterclockwise live in a 26-dimensional space, of which 16 dimensions have been compactified—recalling that in Kaluza's original five-dimensional, the fifth dimension was compactified by being wrapped up into a Möbius-ringed circle."

Einstein then puffed on his pipe, the corners of his eyes smiling into Goethe's own. The corners of Goethe's eyes then shifted to Sartorius' eyes and encountered there the blank uncomprehending stare that the Chinese so aptly characterize as that of a "Mu Ji—a Wooden Chicken." Einstein then noticed his consternation and convinced that it was all so simple once you got the simplest insight he repeated his explanation: "Let me put it in a slightly different way and you will get it in no time. You see, the ekpyrotic process begins far in the indefinite past with a pair of flat empty branes sitting parallel to each other in a warped five-dimensional space...these are the Grand Horizons...The two branes, which form the walls of the fifth dimension could have popped out of nothingness as a quantum fluctuation in the more distant past and then drifted apart...this assumes of course the Imaginary Time of the Kubo-Schwinger-Martin Condition that would characterize the state of the universe before the Big Bang..."

Sartorius after a long pause responded: "I'll have to take your word for it."

Just then, there was a shift change at the control panel of the Grand Retort and Sartorius saw a small, withered shape in an electronic wheelchair descend the ramp towards the lounge in which they were sitting. The skin was withered on the limbs of the invalid, the limbs lifeless and drawn up in disuse and the head skewed and listing to one side. Nonetheless, the eyes were bright and clear, expressing a clear and sympathetic intelligence. The withered man spoke through a voice synthesizer, but the tone was surprisingly human and friendly.

"Ah Stephen...Just the man we need at the moment we need him! Professor Sartorius, allow me to introduce Professor Stephen Hawking...Stephen, this is Professor Sartorius, who will be leading our Quest Party, the Argonauts to transit the black hole to the Council of the Immortals in hopes of retrieving the Sylmaril Quasicrystal to address our crisis in the Game..."

"My pleasure Professor Sartorius." he synthesized.

"Call me Robert, Please."

"And Stephen, at your service. What can I do to help?" Hawking queried.

"Robert here is trying to get a grasp on the voyage he will be undertaking, transiting the wormhole umbilicus to the black hole at the center of our Milky Way Galaxy, Saggitarius A. Perhaps you can clarify and set his mind at ease." Suggested Goethe.

"Ah Yes! Of Course! Well, Robert you can rest assured that our knowledge and technology in the area of black holes and wormholes has advanced by leaps and bounds and, with luck, you should be able to complete your journey safe and sound, at least we believe so in theory, the unforeseen complications aside. Here, how can I put if for you to make it easier to take it in? ...Of course you know of the Milky Way Galaxy, and in recent decades we have come to the near-certain knowledge that most, if not all galaxies are formed around, and rotate around Supermassive Black Holes, millions of times as dense as our sun's mass. Of course it would have been child's play to guess it...you would think something heavy would keep the galaxy centered by gravitational pull on its center, just like children guessed for centuries that the shapes of the American hemisphere and the Euro-African hemisphere fit together on the map. It just needed a genius and some evidence to point out the obvious and learn from the ten-year olds!"

"Yes, I am quite familiar with the concept of the black hole, a mass so dense that not even light can escape its gravitational pull, thus rendering it invisible to us. But, the question and my anxiety is obvious: How can anyone approach and return from our black hole without being annihilated? And how could the Council of the Immortals meet within the space of the black hole without suffering the same fate?" Sartorius asked.

"Ah, excellent question! Well we can't pretend to have all of the answers—our science and theory is always evolving and imperfect, but we are confident of the fundamentals. Now the layman's concept of a black hole is significantly incomplete and inadequate. The complete Schwarzschild geometry consists of the black hole, but also its companion white hole, and two universes connected at their horizons by a linking wormhole."

"White hole?"

"Yes! A white hole is a region of spacetime which cannot be entered from the outside but which may be exited by both matter and energy. You might think of the white hole as the "invisible backside-of-the-moon, " or the flip-side of the coin of the black hole. To put it another way, a white hole is a black hole running backwards in time. Just as black holes swallow things irretrievably, white holes spit them out. Here, Albert will draw you a diagram of the Kruksal-Szekeres Coordinates...you see the big X in the middle cuts the field into four spaces...the black hole on top, the white hole below, each bounded by their singularity. To the left and right are two exterior regions of spacetime, or, if you will, two universes—our universe as we know it, and an alternative universe, sometimes called a "baby universe" or "parallel universe." Objects falling towards the white hole would never reach the white hole's event horizon since the white hole's event horizon in the past becomes the black hole's event horizon in the future, so that objects falling towards it will reach only a future black hole event horizon. You can see, luckily, General Relativity is symmetric! Now these "baby universes" or "branch universes" occur in imaginary time, and may eventually rejoin our ordinary universe.

"Imaginary time?" asked the nonplussed Sartorius.

"Yes! Quite!—now you are getting it! You see in the stone age of our thinking about black holes we thought that in real time an astronaut who fell into a black hole would come to a sticky end at the singularity—the crunch point at the center of the black hole where spacetime and density would become infinite. You might suffer "spaghettification," first, which would be rather unpleasant unless you are a real addict of Italian food! It was thought that nothing could ever come out of a black hole—it was eternal splatsville! But now we know that that was only a crude idea of a much more complex reality. Now we know that a visitor to a black hole could very well enter on the black hole side and pass via the wormhole through the white hole and be spat out into the "babyverse—baby universe" on the opposite side. The traveler would, in a sense be transported to another region of the universe, or rather, to another universe of the "multiverse," transiting in imaginary time. Now the first trials of this technique were crude and unsuccessful, usually ending in the probe being splatted into the singularities of the black hole or the obverse white hole. Even in such a case, the histories of the particles would survive in imaginary time even if the particles themselves terminated in the singularity in real time. But later it came to be understood that we could do one better even than that, in that the wormhole could be kept stable and open for transit through the injection of "exotic matter"—that is having negative mass and positive surface pressure. Thus utilizing the Casimir Effect and Negative Energy Density we were able to stabilize the wormhole to allow effective and safe passage, bypassing both singularities and linking real spacetime and imaginary spacetime. Now we have many operative Farscapes and Stargates, wormhole portals traversing all parts of the spacetime hypersurface, ergosphere to ergosphere. As a happy byproduct we keep building up more an more histories of transiting particles and beings—building up quite a "library" in imaginary time—a virtual "Sea of Stories!" It's all just routine applied quantum gravity theory now. Did you ever see the movie "Contact" based on Carl Sagan's novel?—well this is basically the same idea—getting to be old hat now! We also discovered that this process was known to many civilizations throughout the universe before ours and had been used by the Immortals from time immorial, as in their meetings withing imaginary time in the baby universe of Saggitarius A, at the center of our own Milky Way Galaxy."Hawking expanded.

"I'll just have to take your word for it." responded the bleary-eyed and non-plussed Sartorius.

Einstein smiled and puffed again on his pipe, answering back: "Don't worry! Nobody gets it all the first time—just let it sink in and you'll get the hang of it all in no time!" Goethe smiled back, his eyes alternating from those of Einstein to those of Sartorius.

At length Goethe summed up the immediate practical consequence of all this that could never be rendered instantly clear—There was but one entrance to the Umbilical Wormhole: they must pass across the Island of Omphalos at the center of the earth's Central Sea and enter the Gateway. To do so they must pass through by the temple of the Mothers and the hideous and deadly guardians of The Gateway, the Grigori—fallen angels of the abyss, —"The Watchers."

Now, all of these anxious and desperate thoughts sped Sartorius' mind forward, moving faster even towards the great Central Island of the Central Sea at the center of the earth than the mighty surging course of the Nautilus, so formidably powered as it was by the deuterium and tritium extracted from the very sea of its path and united as in the sun's inner burning within the fusion reactor at its core. He lay at Eva's side as she slept on, unable to sleep with his mind drawn to the beauty and warmth of her breasts pressed against him and to the swelling of her belly, which was also his future, if indeed any of them had a future which could yet be saved. His sleeping son, in unborn dreamtime within her womb was also a submarine traveler, travelling in odyssey a parallel path to his very own within the bent dimensions and whirling eddies of a Space-Time which embraced him as lovingly as his mother's womb. He must not fail.

Early the next morning, if there had been a visible sun to calculate the morning's arrival, Captain Nemo knocked them up to announce their arrival at Omphalos. Rushing up to the conning tower they beheld its shores dense with a tropical vegetation of uncanny growth, drawing its life without sunlight from the chthonic iridescent radiance of the suspended earth's core overvaulted and glowing about them. The landing party embarked in six rubber landing craft inflated on the spot. Sartorius and Eva rode with Captain Nemo and his crewman, while Goethe and Sun Wu Kong rode in another piloted by Lieutenant Sindbad. Andreas, Jack and Mohammad followed in a third.

Making the beach they disembarked upon the strand of an arced bay strewn with heaps of the papery spiral shells of exsanguine Argonauta argo washed-up in dead waves, and began to follow the tortuous path inward and upwards, mounting the densely vegetated volcanic slopes, leaving the boats in the care of a shore party of Nemo's crewmen. The jungle was thick and its canopy shut out the iridescent radiance from the vaulted red sky, leaving the struggling argonauts surrounded by the moving pulsating shadows from the umbrella of branches tossed by the sirocco infernal winds, and the heart-rendering screeching out of the dark of the troops of subterranean lemurs following them from branch to branch, the furtive paddings and disappearings in the brush of the subterranean iguanas and the shrieks of the innumerable flocking chthonic vultures, albatrosses, blacks and mackaws startled into flight from each successive ridge of trees which they disturbed in their ascent. Eva leaned heavily on Sartorius' arm as she strained upward, climbing under the weight of the child within her. She fell once, but Sartorius caught her in his arms. Then they pushed on until she sat to rest but could not get up. Sartorius put her upon his back and slowly climbed upward, bearing both of their weights. Laboriously they made their way forward into the heart of darkness.

Suddenly, about two thirds up the slope a path diverged to a small glade. A stream of the freshest and coolest water flowed along the length of the glade and the party sat down to rest and refresh themselves. They were about to start off again when upriver from them they heard a noise, something like the hoofbeats of a horse which approached them from the opposite side of the stream. Across the underbrush there appeared to be the figure of an older bearded man, naked to the waist and superbly muscled who approached them on horseback. As he cantered out of the underbrush and plashed across the streambed from the other side, however, he revealed himself to be not a rider on horseback, but, beyond belief a creature composed of the body of a horse fronted with the torso and head of a man in one unified organism! The party was shocked speechless as he smilingly approached them and then bowed, taking off a wreath of laurel leaves twined upon his head.

"Welcome gentlemen, or should I rather say lady and gentlemen! It is not often we receive visitors in this precinct—where are you heading? My name is Chiron—and if you will not be too overwhelmed with the sight of me you may see that I am commonly known as a Centaur. I have known and helped many men in my day—Hercules, Achilles, Asclepius, Jason and his band of Argonauts...I would be happy to make friends and assist you in any way within my powers." he said with an innate nobility of speech.

Sartorius returned his greetings and informed him of their mission to visit the Mothers, which was of the greatest importance. He asked of Chiron but one favour: As Eva was pregnant and having difficulty negotiating the steep slope, would he be so kind as to carry her to the top? Chiron was delighted and said it was his pleasure to have such a beautiful woman ride on his back, which delight he had not enjoyed for some time. And he was especially happy to carry such a one flushed with the radiant beauty of incipient motherhood, as so often graced the faces and bodies of the beautifully pregnant.

"More likely flushed with radiant glow of exhaustion and high-blood pressure would be more accurate—but less gracious and romantically poetic" riposted Eva in good humour as she straddled and mounted his broad equine back, clinging with her arms around the tight muscles of his chest and pressing her full breasts into the back of his torso as he cantered off, beginning to sing as he went.

The wind, which was alive, conscious, and not kindly disposed to travelers, had a habit of coming up in the middle of what would have been night on the surface. It arose without warning in a violent susurra, giving them little time to devise shelter, and to which often the only resort was to submit, pressed against the ground flat as any stalk of grass, and try not to be blown away into the ever looming abyss. Time itself could not be taken for granted. It sped up and slowed down like a variable dependent on something else, a something so far, at least, undetectable.

Hovering, so high and stationary that at first she could have been mistaken for a flaw in Sartorius' vision, a golden eagle caught the rays and seemed to emit a light of its own. Climbing upwards upon the shear of a cliff face, he could not look at the country directly for more than a minute or two—it was if its ruling spirit might properly demand obliquity of gaze as a condition of passage. He found himself ascending a flight of cliffs, below the fluorescent waters of the Central Sea seethed; above the air aetherial, blue, shifted in gusts, until arriving at a set of ropes stretched across an abyss, one over the other which he would need to transit, his hands on one and his feet, like a tightrope walker, on the other. The only way to cross was hand over hand using legs and feet on the cable below, with a shear and immeasurable drop into the raging sea below. The vault of the inner sky is red and violent with volcanic heat, the light refracted and complex, like the permanent core of an endless explosion as yet unimagined.

But it wasn't only the difficult terrain, the deadly vipers and the torrential rainstorms breaking out without warning. The journey itself was a kind of Conscious Being, a living deity that does not wish to engage itself with the foolish or the weak, and hence will try to dissuade you. It insisted on exacting the furthest degree of respect.

Traveling another day and a half they reached the end of all roads and paths forward. They found themselves face to face with a deep belt of impenetrable jungle, swamp and a tangle of teeming vegetation so dense that it formed an impassable wall before them. They were nonplussed. Every attempt to penetrate further towards the center of the island led them ever further into an insolvable snarled maze, a physical entanglement in the chaos of living vegetative and zootic energy seemingly as insoluable as the Gordian Knot.

Clearly depressed, Sartorius collapsed onto the ground leaning against a thick palm trunk and stared blankly ahead into the impenetrable tangle of vegetation before them. Goethe, though as physically depleted as the others, sat serenely upon a large volcanic rock and sipped a flask of water, wiping his brow and smiling at the despondent Sartorius, offering words of encouragement:

"Courage, my boy! We will find a way past these temporary obstacles."

"Well, I'll have to take that on faith alone, as I don't see any way through this tangle..." he muttered back in an exhaustion bordering on despair, "...really, we are all adults, you don't have to kid us along with false hope...I know you are a famous actor as well as a playwright, but you needn't put on a role for us...honestly, unless it's an act for our benefit I don't know how you can remain so cheerful in the face of the obvious."

Goethe looked at him with an inscrutable smile, then offered him a drink of water from his flask, mentoring him paternally: ""Robert, Robert!...Yes, I was nurtured in the theatre and its not a bad school for life. In fact, to give you a word of grandfatherly advice as a native son of the theatre, Robert, learn to watch the world as if it were a great play. No, I know it is not easy to maintain the gaze of a spectator in the lofty stalls, when we are forced to perform our parts and grunt and sweat under our lots and parts in the great performance. Our seats in this "Grand Theatre" of human life are not those of the Olympians, of course. But learn that in every painful situation you will find a little door opening onto a joyful refuge, even when your own sufferings and emotions engulf you...Open up your theatre eye!—the great third eye, Robert, which looks through the other two onto the world!"

Sartorius was too exhausted and funked to respond, and then minutes later the order was given to press on. Once again they pressed forward, hacking with their machetes, swooning in the heat which seemed like a dead weight upon their matted bodies. They staggered on in near silence, except for the hacking sounds against the underbrush. After another hour the travelers fell down exhausted in a clearing, unable to go on. Cries were heard that it was hopeless to try to press forward. They collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion and near despair, some napping and others unable to sleep.

Then a sharp wind raised itself in their faces, blowing hard off the chthonic seascape and channeled by the cliffs rising above the jungle cover. A dense fog followed, and smothered the journeyers in a seething, onrushing darkness, cut with a stinging waterspray of the wet mist driven by fitful gustings. Eva and Sartorius found themselves exhausted and unable to keep awake. They with the others cut some palm branches to quick-thatch a makeshift lean-to shelter. The lovers lay with all their griefs in their arms, implicit in their intwinement and the warm lump of life between them the whole cycle of begetting, bringing to birth, growth, separation, suffering and death, yet they embraced it gladly along with each other. Yet howevermuch the wind and absent moon raged overhead, it never broke the dream in which they lost themselves. Their shared sleep firmed and strengthened itself against the darkness, and every threat of the looming.

Then Ogun came forward and set up an iron tripod and lit a fire beneath it. Into the potsheard of the tripod he placed spices, curative herbs and palm wine. Then he took a wild boar in a thicket and sacrificed the animal, severing the throat and directing the thick and hot stream of blood from its neck into the cauldron. He heated the cauldron and then filled his gourd. He passed the gourd to each of the comrades, who sipped in turn recovering their lost strength. Then he picked up the iron cauldron with both hands and drained its bellyful of wine into his own, falling to his knees, raising his arms and calling out towards heaven.

Ogun called out to the heavens and pleaded with the God of Heaven. He called out to the spirits. He sang. He chanted. He danced. He drank down his bloody bever for soothsay. He danced and sang and chanted like one possessed. His movements jerked in ecstatic convulsions like a marionette at the end of the strings of a drunken puppeteer. Then he lost himself in grace, like a well-tooled machine of the soul of the world. Then he called them down, the abiku, the spirit children—the spirits of the children yet unborn into the world. He sang and intoned to them, singing into the clouds and into the horizon. The unborn spirits poured out of heaven in their billions of billions, all of the souls of the future worlds and centuries unborn. Ogun sang. He sang of their lives that would never be if the pathway failed and the missing crystal were not recovered and the world came to its radioactive and ill-omened end. He sang of their stories that would never be told and never remembered by the children of coming generations. The chorus of the abiku moaned and groaned. They writhed and wretched. They called down their brothers and sisters from the future's future. The clouds rained souls and the spirit children, the abiku, came down in their myriads like the uncountable raindrops of the Indian monsoon.

A man who is born falls into a dream as a man falls into the sea. If he tries to mount again from that sea to the air and return to heaven, evaporate of himself, he drowns. No! The way to survive in that sea of dream is to let the waters bear you buoyant upon their back and by balance float between the air and the waters. Then buoyed upwards and onwards by this unbearable buoyance of being, flow ever onward with the living gulf stream, as the stream itself morphs and migrates and meanders into the bedway that becomes the road, which like all roads along which souls walk and talk and journey forwards, leads ever onwards, the road which was a river becoming a story, and the story merging into other stories endlessly, ever merging onwards, into streams, then rivers then emptying again into the sea of stories that itself returns to the ocean of life which itself, ever unmoved yet ever moving wells itself in unseen dimensions into the beautiful terror of eternity.

They gathered themselves up from the ground as they arrived and came forward into the clearing, the abiku. The Argonauts watched the chaotic movements and wild exchanges. They saw people and beings of all sizes and shapes, mountainous women with faces of iroko, midgets with faces of stone, reedy women with twins strapped to their backs, thick-set men with bulging shoulder muscles. They shut their eyes and opened them again in unbelief. They saw people who walked backwards, a dwarf who got about on two fingers, men upside-down with baskets of fish on their feet, women who had breasts on their backs, babies strapped to their chests and beautiful children with seven cerulean arms. They saw a being with myriad arms like the thousand-armed Guan Yin of China, each enacting a separate gesture of limb and finger, which undulating told a silent story in the gesture-language of Abhinaya as she danced, and a girl who had eyes at the side of her face like a tropical fish, bangles of copper round her neck, and who was more lovely than forest flowers. They saw one which had no eyes and no mouth and walked on its head on little legs which protruded from the empty sockets of the eyes. One of the men had red wings on his feet and a girl had fish-gills around her neck.

Then the abiku, the spirits of the unborn began to swarm. Ogun stretched out his massive muscled arms and turned his face upward, laughing into the rain still pouring from the heavens. The latent appetent unborn poured from the heavens seeking their future, seeking a path to their future lives, seeking, that their lives and their future might not be cut off. One lifetime flowed into the others as the droplet's surged into trickles and trickles into streamlet's and then into streams. In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and branched out to the whole world. Then the road that was once a river hungered. It hungered for its future and the future lives that would travel that road, seeking their futures and their journeys. In that clearing which was the beginning of the river and the road the spirits mingled with the unborn. They assumed many forms. They shifted many shapes. Many became birds of the jungle, nipping and cutting the tangle of vines and overgrowth with their sharp beaks. Many became snakes, slithering forward to follow the tangles then untangle the Gordian knotwork of the vines in the underbrush. An endless myriad became the swarming ant army and leaf-cutters of the Amazon rain forest surging forward, devouring every plant, leaf, vine and obstruction before them, humming in surgent susurrus as they devoured all before them. Above them swarmed an endless myriad of the abiku, taking the shapes of billions of hungry locusts, clearing a path in their aerial hungering, alighting above and within the surge of the army of ants below them and devouring the tangles of vineleaf that hung from the towering trees of this densest of rainforests. Swarms of termites gnawed away at the wood of the trees until branches and trunks came crashing down. Some massive abiku took the form of great herds of elephant who with their charging tusks toppled over the denuded hulks of the tree trunks along the Way. Then a giant Masquerade burst out onto the forming road, with plumes of smoke billowing from its head. The Masquerade was terrifying and fiery and with a funereal roar it filled the street with ancient silence. The Argonauts watched it by its shadow of a great tree burning as it danced down the widening roadway, setting collapsing tree trunks aflame. All lifeforms feasted much along the famished road, hungering for their futures, longing for the lovely terrors of eternity, clearing the path, the road, the Dao, the Way as they hungered forward.

In the beginning there were no roads on earth. But as one man walked on the face of the green breast of the earth his walking made footprints, and then other men followed these footprints, stepping along and amoung them until the footprints were patted by the soles of feet into paths, the paths into roads and the roads into turnpikes, just as the drops of rain ran in their trickles into their streamlet's, their streams into rivers and the rivers to the great waterways leading back to the sea. And men told stories of where they had walked and where they had been, and these stories also became pathways, trod by the feet of men to come. And the itch for the future, the contempt, as it were, for what was overpast and what threatened to block and negate the flow of life and the onward flow of life's story, which forms the active principle in the forward rush of life moved in each their hearts and in their onflowing and their onward journeying, each believing that what they wanted was more important than what others did not want.

Finally Ogun, Ogun the Waymaker—Ogun he drew two immense machetes slung from sheaths across his well-muscled back and he began to hack his way forward through the remains of the still dense underbrush, following the courseway of the abiku, calling and motioning for his companions to follow. Thus, more incredibly than any conceivable bulldozer might have done, The Great Waymaker hacked a straight path through the jungle and the comrades followed in single file behind him, subduing the living chaos around them as they went. With Ogun blood was never completely absent, but never from any bloodthirstiness. It was rather his thirstiness for life itself that drove him forwards and renewed his contact with the blood again and again. Thus, The Lord of the Road opened a straight road through the snarled jungle for the wayfarers, laying waste the forests and underbrush around him. There had to be a journey across that void which had grown impassable if the wayfarers were to drink at the fount of mortality and return. Ogun took over. Armed with the first technical instruments which he had forged from the ore of the mountain-wombs he hacked forward and cleared the primordial jungle, plunged through the abyss and called on the others to follow. Smeared with the green of the foliage he had so laid waste and with the red blood of the beasts, snakes, birds and fauna he laid low on his path he finally led the band of Argonauts out of the entanglement and towards the base of the great volcanic mount at the center of the island where they rested, washed in a clear crystalline stream and finally began to make their way upwards.

At length they made the summit of the slope and entered downward into the crater of the extinct volcano, at the center of which beneath the jungle canopy lay an ornate Corinthian temple columned by nubile caryatids. The entranceway to the temple was flanked on either side by the huge guarding presence of twin bare-breasted sphinxes, fearfully sharp in eye and in claw. The leftward sphinx pronounced welcome declaring that they had arrived at the nadir of the Well of Souls and asking for their purpose in coming to these sacred precincts.

Sartorius declared that they had come at the request of the Magister Ludi to speak to the Mothers on an urgent matter of the utmost importance to the survival of the human race. He withdrew from about his neck the Golden Aegis of the Magister Ludi in which was embedded the engraved Seed Crystal, given him as a passportout, and displayed it high in his hands before them.

"An objective of highly dubious value" sneered the leftward Sphynx, "Nonetheless as you travel hither under the aegis of the Magister Ludi I shall grant you access to the inner sanctum, and you may address the Mothers at you own discretion and, I may say, at your own peril."

The band of argonauts made their way forward along a long corridor flanked by two facing rows of caryatids, the figure of each of which was a living Amazon warrior armed with Reflex-bow, helmet, sword and shield, each with the left breast absent to assure the deadliness of the drawn bowstring. The leftward Sphinx guided them forward while the rightward Sphinx followed at their rear. At each intersecting corridor an Amazon lieutenant of the guard snapped to attention as they passed, presenting her arms in a sign of salute. At long last they attained the inner atrium and the leftward Sphinx announced their arrival.

Upon gaining the open atrium the spectacle which presented itself was so appalling and incomprehensible to the eye and the mind that none could look directly upon it, but rather sensed it from the corners of their gaze with their eyes averted in horror. In the center of the atrium several figures surrounded a seething glowing cauldron suspended from an iron tripod, some sitting and some coming and going as it might chance: Formation, transformation, eternal mind's eternal re-creation; Images of all creatures and all possible creatures hover free in a boiling chaos of perpetual transformation and quantum oscillations between existence and non-existence. As the clouds of mist and vapour waft away before the cauldron the image of three hideous crones seated before it comes into view, and behind them three more frightful sisters. The first three sat before the glowing cauldron next to a spinning wheel and a hand-loom. Their faces were ravaged with time and wear, wrinkled and gnarled at every pore, and their greyed hair came out in handfuls. Their age was incalculable and inconceivable, and amoung them they shared but one eye and one tooth, which they deftly plucked out and passed to one another as the need and whim might require. The visitors heard them speak, but they spoke as if speaking to themselves, or speaking to no one. The first of the hideous three spake forth:

Clotho—"The Spinner"—Deino—Nona—Sthenos—these are the names that I am called; In other lands Laima, Wyrd—My sisters and I have many names—the Voluspa, the Moirae, the Norns, the Fates, Parcae, Fata, Mingyun, Yuanfen, Kismet the Gorgons, the Graiae, the Mothers—but we are beyond all names and beyond all words and languages; We are the Daughters of Nyx, Mother Night, and of Chaos and Ananke:

I, the eldest Fate, Mother from yonder

For the while to spin am bidden.

Much to think of, much to ponder,

In life's tender thread is hidden.

Finest flax I winnow featly

That your thread be supple, tender;

Fingers shrewd will twirl it neatly,

Make it even, smooth, and slender.

Ye who, warm with dance and pleasure,

All too wanton, snatch a token,

Think that this thread has a measure,

Have a care! It might be broken.

Then the second took the eye and tooth from the first and spoke in turn: I am Lacheisis, "The Allotter, the Weaver and the Assigner of Lots"—Decima, Enyo, and Euryale am I also called:

Unto me, alone discerning,

Was the thread's control decreed;

For my reel, forever turning,

Never erred through too great speed.

Threads are coming, threads are reeling,

Each one in its course I guide;

None may slip from spindle wheeling,

Each must in its orbit glide.

Could I once forget in leisure,

For the world I'd fear with pain;

Hours, they count, and years, they measure,

And the Weaver takes the skein.

And then the third, Atropos, took the eye and tooth from her sister's hand and revealing herself as Morta, Medusa and Pemphredo spoke:

Know ye that the shears were lately

Given to my care to ply;

For our Ancient's conduct greatly

Did, in truth, none edify.

She drags on most useless spinnings

On and on in air and light,

Promise of most glorious winnings

Clips and drags to realms of night.

Yet when I was young and reigning,

I, too, erred oft in those years;

Now I yield to curb restraining,

In their case I keep the shears.

So I cut off manhood in my bridle,

And this scene with joy survey.

In these hours so gay and idle,

Revel, riot, sport, and play!

And these standing behind us are our formidable cousins, the Furies—the Erinyes, the Eumenides, the Valkyrie, who enforce our executions, as we must in turn follow and administer not our own but the Will of Heaven—thus it was they who were born out of the drops of blood that flowed when Cronus castrated his father Unranus (mythology) and threw his genitalia into the sea, the Erinyes emerged from the drops of blood, while Aphrodite was born from his seed in the seafoam:

Alecto: What boots it? For to trust us ye'll not stickle,

For each is young and fair, a coaxing kitten.

If one among you by a girl is smitten,

We shall not cease, his ears to scratch and tickle,

Until we dare to tell him, to his loathing,

That for this man and that one she is primping,

Crooked in her back, all wit doth lack, and limping,

And if betrothed to him, she's good-for-nothing!

And the betrothed- we know the way to sting her.

Why scarce a week ago her precious lover

To such-and-such a girl spoke basely of her;

Though they be reconciled, a sting will linger.

Megaera: That's but a jest! For when they once are married,

I go to work in every case to fritter

The fairest bliss away with fancies bitter.

The moods of men are varied, hours are varied.

None holds embraced what his desire has chosen,

But seeks a More-desired with foolish yearning

And from long-wonted, highest blessings turning,

Flees a warm love and tries to warm a frozen.

I'm skilled in managing such household troubles,

And Asmodeus, comrade true, I summon

To scatter strife betimes twixt man and woman;

Thus I destroy the human race in couples.

Tisiphone:

Poison, steel- not words malicious-

Mix I, whet I, for the traitor.

Lov'st thou others? Sooner, later,

Overwhelms thee ruin vicious.

What the sweetest moment offers,

Turns perforce to wormwood galling!

Here no haggling, pulling, hauling;

As one sins, one always suffers.

None shall sing about forgiving!

To the rocks my cause I'm crying.

Echo, hark! "Revenge!" replying.

For the unstable, death! not living!

"Enough of this chatter!" shouted out Atropos in aggravation, "Strangers—declare yourselves, what are you doing here and what do you want? What is the meaning of this intrusion into our sacred precincts?"

Goethe whispered in Sartorius' ear: "They will not see you, only wraiths and the shadow's shadow of your shadow in their world will they see—but speak and they will hear."

"Honourable Mothers! I have come from the Magister Ludi on a mission which concerns the fate and destiny of the human race. Our world is in crisis. We are threatened with World War and nuclear annihilation. We may not survive. The Magister Ludi has instructed us to travel to the Council of the Immortals in the Amphitheatre at the center of our galaxy to retrieve the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril. Only if we can retrieve the crystal from the council can our civilization escape its apocalypse. My entreaty to you on behalf of the Magister Ludi and the entire human race is to allow us to pass through the wormhole through The Gateway that we may address the Council of the Immortals, which is now convening." Sartorius spoke, in his best rhetorical manner, trying to imagine what might be a pleasing and acceptable manner in which to address them.

"The Human Race!" she repeated quizzically, "Yes, I remember them but have hardly heard from them of late these many years.—Yes, I remember them now, but how long it has been since the last call—'Sharper than a dragon's tooth...' they do say...But we Mothers do love all our children all the same..." she drawled off.

"Honourable Mother, I can assure you that..." Sartorius began.

"No!" she shouted decisively and finally, "No! Never!...It is forbidden for any human to transit The Gateway and the Umbilical Wormhole! ...no matter for what human cause. Heaven has placed these guardians...The Grigori..."The Watchers" about the portal of the Gateway to prevent it and it is written in the laws of heaven that it is forbidden. For you humans it is but to observe and accept the Fate which we shall allot to you...and when the shears sever the thread of your race that is also Ananke and it is your lot to accept it as the Will of Heaven...We have spoken! Go!" she screamed out, irritated.

"But Honourable Mother..." Sartorius again began.

"No! What is so difficult to understand about that? Do you not know the meaning of No?" she blurted out at him.

With that the party of Argonauts withdrew to the side of the chamber to take council with one another. Some felt they should wait and hope for a change of her mood. Some felt that they could return after preparing more arguments, and make a plea how important it was for the survival for the human race and the dire consequences of inaction. Some suggested returning to the Magister Ludi and seeking his counsel and advice, or perhaps a magical talisman to make their way. At the ends of their council none had any hope that they had advanced any farther than before. Their council broke down and each stood or sat, or paced upwards and downwards racking his brains for some possible solution to the dilemma.

In the corner Sun Wukong flung himself down on a chair and put his leg up over its armrest, leaning on his elbow and stroking the hairs of the beard on his chin quizzically. His eyes passed over the Mothers seated at their spinning wheel, loom and cutting table. He watched their cousins the Furies pace about and attend to their needs. Then he watched as one of them, Megaera left the room on some errand on behalf of the Mothers. He tilted his head askew to the side then jumped up his arms akimbo.

If you have not read the Xi You Ji, or Journey to the West, and learnt the extent of Master Sun Wukong's immense powers you must realize that that Master Trickster possesses an immense amount of strength, being able to lift his 13,500 Catty (8,100 kg) Ruyi Jingu Bang, his expandable and collapsible iron fighting rod with ease, which he can also collapse in size down to that of a writer's pen to stow away behind his ear. He also has superb speed, traveling 108,000 Li (unit) (54,000 kilometers) in one somersault. Sun knows 72 transformations, which allows him to transform into various animals and objects; he is, however, shown with slight problems transforming into other people, since he is unable to complete the transformation of his tail. He is a skilled fighter, capable of holding his own against the best generals of heaven. Each of his hairs possesses magical properties, and is capable of transforming into a clone of the Monkey King himself, or various weapons, animals, and other objects. He also knows various spells in order to command wind, part water, conjure protective circles against demon, freeze humans, demons, and gods alike. The dilemma of his friends, therefore, was like gasoline added to the fire in the mischievous mind of the Monkey King. Crossdressing, female impersonation and shape shifting were certainly within his repertoire of mischief.

Just then Sun Wu Kong noticed that Clotho was agitated to ask Tisiphone to fetch some more flax for her spinning wheel and concerned that she might run short. However she could not find the girl to speak out her request without getting the one eye and tooth which the three crones shared amoungst them. He saw her tug at the sleeve of her sister Atropos, the signal to pass them over to her. Two seconds later he saw Atropos remove the precious eye from her hideous socket and place it in her palm reaching it across the table towards her sister Clotho. Quick as the blink of a salamander's eye Sun Wu Kong transformed himself into the very likeness of cousin Megaera and moved across the atrium next to Atropos. Luckily since Atropos had removed the eye she was momentarily blind and unable to notice his monkey's tail sticking out beneath his female skirts, and the two sphinxes, who despite his strength might have torn him to pieces if he were discovered, were on the other side of the room and their view of the obtruding appendage was blocked by the table. With the deft hand of the practiced trickster and magician Sun Wu Kong reached out and seized the precious eye from Atropos' hand. A sudden shriek of horror and dismay arose spontaneously from all three as they realized the calamity of their loss and their helplessness at the hands of the cunning slyboots.

"And now my dear and honourable sisters, you will be so kind as to bring your hesitations to an end and open the Gateway. That is if you would like the privilege of ever seeing the light of day again!" he chortled out gloatingly. The twin sphinxes moved forward to threaten him but Atropos in her fear and dismay called out to order them to stop.

"It is clear my Trickster friend that you are no gentleman to treat us ladies in such an ungenerous manner. " she ragged him.

"Yes, I have never pretended to be a gentleman, though I have always served gentlemen such as my good friend Professor Sartorius and my former master the Tang monk Xuanzang. You may judge us all together or not at all. But you ladies have not shown the generosity of heart befitting a lady or a deity either, and thus you are served in your own manner and cannot complain. And so again, I would respectfully counsel you to open the portal to the Gateway for my friends who have a mission of life and death importance to attend to." he chided.

"A matter of life and death—is that all? I really wonder why you make all the fuss about it—what is the difference after all? But I can see that you are rather a man of action than of philosophical contemplation and I will hold my tongue. Very well, we will accede to your wishes as far as it is in our powers—but I must warn and caution you that all of this will not get you very far after all. You see The Gateway is actually two doors, one that opens from our side, and that is in our power to open, and an additional inner door which opens in the opposite direction into the farther side. We have the power to open the nearer one but not the farther other. As you have us in your power we will submit, but we cannot do that which is beyond our power."

With that Atropos ordered the sphinxes to draw aside the immense veil of the temple behind the altar at which the Mothers sat and an immense and towering circular moongate was revealed closed by a golden double door on which were engraved the images of Ghiberti depicting on the opposite doors the Creation and the Last Judgment in basso rilievo. Before the double doors of the portal stood the hideous, menacing and fearsome figures of the Grigori, two hundred in number, the legion of The Watchers—The Fallen Watcher Angels. Behind them were a thousand of their descendent warriors, giants, the fierce and cannibalistic Nephilim.

The band of Argonauts walked forward, led by Sun Wu Kong, who held the precious eye firmly in his hand. As they walked forward Atropos commanded the Grigori to make way for them and open the outer door. Sensing Sartorius' puzzlement as they walked forward through their ranks, Goethe whispered in his ear an explanation of the presence of the Grigori: "The Watchers (from Greek language egregore (ἐγρήγοροι)) or Grigori are a group of fallen angel told of in the biblical apocrypha who mated with mortal women, giving rise to a race of hybrids known as the Nephilim, who are also mentioned in Genesis 6:4 NAB. The Watchers appear in biblical apocrypha, in the first and second books of Enoch and Jubilees. According to legend they were placed on Earth by God to watch over the human race. But in the course of their duties they succumbed to temptation and had intercourse with human females. The word "Grigori" derives from the Slavonic Second Book of Enoch. According to the Book of Enoch, the Watchers numbered a total of 200 but only their leaders are named:

And they were in all two hundred; who descended in the days of Jared on the summit of Mount Hermon, and they called it Mount Hermon, because they had sworn and bound themselves by mutual imprecations upon it. And these are the names of their leaders: Samyaza, their leader, Arakiel, Rameel, Kokabiel, Tamiel, Ramiel, Daniel (angel), Chazaqiel, Baraqiel, Asael, Aramaros, Batariel, Ananiel, Zaqiel, Shamsiel, Satariel, Turiel, Yomiel, Sariel. These are their chiefs of tens. (Book of Enoch, Chapter 6)

A different idea of the Watchers appears in some traditions of Italian witchcraft where they are said to come from ancient stellar lore: "In the Italian system, these ancient Beings are called the Grigori. They are the Guardians of the "doorways" between the physical plane and that which is beyond. In Italian witchlore, the stars were thought to be the campfires of these legions of the Watchers..."

They soon began to lust for the human women they saw, and at the prodding of their leader Samyaza, they defected en masse to illicitly instruct and procreate among humanity. The children produced by these relationships are the Nephilim, savage giants who pillage the earth and endanger humanity. Samyaza and his associates further taught their human charges arts and technologies such as weaponry, cosmetics, mirrors, sorcery, and other techniques which were intended to be discovered gradually over time by humans, not foisted upon them all at once. The Greek mythology about Prometheus revealing fire-making to humans without Zeus's permission is likely a variant of the same ancient legend, and it is possible also that ancient legends among many cultures about cannibal giants and pervasive implementation of magical powers (such as in the tale Jack and the Beanstalk) arise from the same ancient mythology that came to inspire the Books of Enoch. Eventually God sent the great flood (biblical) to rid the earth of the Nephilim, but first sent Uriel to warn Noah so as not to eradicate the human race. In India it is said that the Ark of Noah was really the Ark of Manu, Hindu Adam &Noah and progenitor of the human race, saved by the Great Horned Fish, Matsya Avatara, avatar of Vishnu, from the same Great Deluge. Genesis says Nephilim and Grigori remained "on the earth" even after the Great Flood, but Jude says the Watchers themselves are bound "in the valleys of the Earth" until Judgment Day. (Genesis 6:4 NIV and Jude 1:6 NAB)

The "Watchers" story in Enoch derives from the sixth chapter book of Genesis where it describes the "Origin of the Nephilim" and mentions the "Sons of God" who beget them:

When men began to multiply on earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw how beautiful the daughters of man were, and so they took for their wives as many of them as they chose. Then the Lord said: "My spirit shall not remain in man forever, since he is but flesh. His days shall comprise one hundred and twenty years." At that time the Nephilim appeared on earth (as well as later), after the sons of God had intercourse with the daughters of man, who bore them sons. They were the heroes of old, the men of renown. (Genesis 6:1 NAB)

Then at Atropos' command Samyaza, the leader of the Grigori unlocked the immense gateway, and latched two immense steel cables to the golden rings fastened to each of the double doors. The thousand Nephalim giants then divided into two groups of five hundred and pulling together on each cable pulled the gargantuan doors wide apart and open. The opening of the outer doors, however, just as Atropos had indicated, revealed not the passageway of the Umbilical Wormhole, but rather another set of Inner Doors, similar to but smaller in scale than the open outer doors. Above the arch of the inner doors was inscribed a legend in massive gold lettering carved in lapis lazuli:

"Behold The Doors of Daat: No Man or Woman may Open These Doors; Once Closed behind them, None Shall Return"

A minute later the two Sphinxes trotted forward through the darkness of the Liminal Interzone, the hazy space between the two sets of doors, and took their places on the inner pedestals to the side of either door, standing guard in vigil. Upon the pedestals to either side were inscribed their names and stations: "The Grand Sphinxes—Guardians of the Great Horizons: These Two Guardians of the Law Stand Eternal Vigil Over the Two Great Human Horizons—Birth, to the Left, and Death, to the Right—Straddling the Great Sephirotic Hemispheres—None Shall Pass But by the Law."

Atropos let out a sigh and a bitter laugh: "I did warn you, didn't I? You have us in your power but we're all in the power of the highest power, which even we may not alter or contravene. Now, we must return to our work, eye or no eye. We wash our hands of the matter." With that, the three fates returned to their eternal work, Clotho spinning, Lachesis measuring and alotting the fates, and Atropos cutting off the destinies of mortal men, as they had done since time immemorial, fate being blind and blinder yet in the eyeless interlude that ensued.

In the interval that thus followed every means was tried to open the inner doors. Sun Wu Kong used every power, chant and incantation in his repertoire to no avail. He tried to pry it open with his Ruyi Jingu Bang rod, without budging it a millimetre. Goethe racked his brains and memory from his immense scholarship in an attempt to recall the "open sesame" that might deliver the party from their doom; all to no avail. Ogun sacrificed his sacred dog and wielded his pulsing Phallic-willowy Staffpole topped with ore against the unyielding portal in vain. Sloughing into depression they sat in the atrium of the temple and watched the Fates spinning their work forward. The time passed and passed and Clotho announced she was spinning out the final threads for the human race, evidently implying that the impending nuclear confrontation and Armageddon in the Middle-East was proceeding to its climax. Lachesis measured the final thread of the human race and the tension built to its catastrophe and climax as Atropos took up her shears. She placed the shears firmly in her right hand and raised their sharpened blades towards the final thread.

Suddenly Eva stood up and raced towards her in firm strides. Before Atropos could sever the final thread Eva seized the shears from her gnarled hand walked away with them, saying: "You shall not take away my son's future!" The two sphinxes moved to stop her but when they did so they discovered that were unable to move, and were inexplicably powerless to attack her. Then she strode forcefully to the inner doors, and beating upon them with the heel of the shears they parted, and she pushed them open with a final thrust. She then threw the shears back onto the floor at Atropos' feet, shouting triumphantly "There, it is done!" Since the door was opened the future was not shut. Lachesis had no choice, but had to keep weaving the thread of the destiny of the human race into the fabric of the future.

Goethe jumped up jubilantly and declared: "I never thought of it! Incredible—who could have imagined it? Saved by a single word!" he shouted at the top of his breath to Sartorius "...Who could have imagined it? She has become a riddle to the sphinxes. You see the law of heaven written above the doorway is clear: "No Man or Woman may Open These Doors" but Eva, Eva God bless her—what is she? She is a mother with a manchild within—for this pregnant interval she is neither man nor woman but is both!—She is the manchild within her and the woman embracing him and for an interval she is an inseparable both—she is man and woman, woman and man and because of that and only because of that she has an infinite future open through her portal! An And and not an Or! An And for an Or, An And For an Or! God is a clever lawyer and the destinies of man may turn on a single word in a court of law or in the laws of the universe! Don't you see?—It is because a pregnant woman in the critical interval is transformed into a fusion of the male and female, the yin and yang in their restored wholeness—the creative wholeness of the Life Force and semblance of God's own infinitely creative power—that she can bear a future within her—though she as a woman and the father as a man will individually die, together their futures can never die, and the portal to the future can remain ever open!" he laughed and danced and capered, kissing Eva and Sartorius alike on their cheeks.

The argonaut band then took council amoung themselves before the open portal to the Umbilical Wormhole, which pulsed and iridesced with mystic convulsive energy before them. Goethe interpreted the second half of the divine law written above the portal: "Once Closed behind them, None shall Return" to mean that the doors must be kept open until they could get to the Council of the Immortals and return with the Silmaril, the Missing Seed Crystal. If the doors were to close before their return all would be lost. Thus it was decided that Eva must remain behind and hold open the portal doors with her unique presence until the rest could return. Sun Wu Kong handed the captive eye and tooth to her to guarantee that the outer door would remain open and she sat herself under the threshold and by her presence the closing of the doors was rendered impossible until their return. Captain Nemo and his crew would remain to provide her security and assistance during the wait for their return. That decided and agreed to, the remaining Argonauts set forth, setting themselves on the platform of the entrance to the Umbilical Wormhole, which whirled, glowed and convulsed with the uptake of its cosmic energy.

As the unbounded energy began to accelerate and carry them forward we may imagine them a vector, passing through the invisible, the "imaginary," the unimaginable. And the infinite night of time and space will be dark, dark enough for whatever visions must transpire across them, no longer to be broken by light displaced from Hell. A vector through the night...

# CHAPTER XI.

### The Council of the Immortals

### & The Trial By Ordeal

Afterwards, Sartorius was unable to recall the details of the transit of the Umbilical Wormhole towards the Galactic Focus, just as he was unable to recall the trauma of his own birth, and just as later the Argonauts would be unable to recall their entire extended experience in the chthonic and nether realm. Lethe seemed to have relieved them in both cases of the burden of a shock too unbearable and inexpressible. It seemed to him that they were covered with a brilliant, solid, dense and stainless cloud, much like a diamond that the sun has struck. Into itself, the everlasting pearl, the well of light at the heart of the black hole at the galactic focus received the voyagers, as water will accept a ray of light and yet remain intact, so they were received into the vortex of palpable light at the galactic center. The spiral arms of the galaxy formed the pattern of the amphitheater at its heart, and seated in its encircling and focalizing whorls were the assembled immortals, geniuses, angels, saints, heroes, prophets, and sages of a thousand thousand worlds and ages—the local emanations and incarnations of the cosmic and infinite spirit which men and their kindred beings throughout the universe have worshipped and revered as the divine and transcendent since time immemorial. The Council of the Immortals thus convened from time to time, from age to age to oversee the significant transmutations and quantum leaps which the evolving consciousness of the universe from time to time underwent. In making their determinations they strove to embody and carry out the higher divine will of which they were the living agents and stewards.

When the Argonauts found themselves reconstituted in body and spirit at the nether end of the Umbilical Wormhole, however, their hearts were gripped by a convulsive disillusionment and despair. They found themselves so close and yet so far from their goal. They could gaze down from the cosmic heights upon the distant seat of the glorious and hyper-luminous assemblage, but they found that the exit of the wormhole had left them short of its very center. Separating them from the amphitheater of the Council of the Immortals was an impassible abyss, the Event Horizon, which absorbed all common matter into the irretrievable density of the physical Black Hole, spewing forth an endless impassable river of living light, an Aurora Borealis of iridescent light as such matter was lost forever into the infinitely compacted mass.

Before them stood a hexagonal platform, evidently a Station of Transit by which the interceding abyss could be transcended and crossed. From the hexagram inscribed in stone upon the platform a flight of transparent stairs descended into the very interstice of the abyss and inexplicably disappeared into some Nth Dimension of the abyssal deep like the creation of a tromp d'ouil of a divine Escher. Descending to the last step the voyagers encountered nothing but a kind of force-field which impeded their onward progress and the horrific gaping of the transparent steps beneath their feet opening into the infinite abyssal chasm below them. Retracing their steps they ascended to the hexagonal platform and sat themselves down in their conundrum. Sun Wu Kong and Ogun tried all their tricks and powers to attempt bridging the abyss in vain. Goethe could think of no human solution. An endless banter and chatter about what to do next left them all admitting in common despair that they hadn't a single clue as to how to proceed forwards.

Sartorius sat in his dejection upon the hard stones, losing himself in the momentary pathos of the unobtainable. To him there seemed to be ever an impenetrable glass wall separating an everlasting Here and an everbeckoning There; the everpresent world of the real which clutched and held; the ever promising, ever receding chimera yonder; between the Here and the There, ever the impassable abyss. Would there ever be a bridge of transit, a viable passageway from this world of the real to that world of the imagination, that dreamed-of destination?The longer he sat, the greater his dejection grew, then wearied into a duller indifference. Even if, he thought, we were allowed to pass over to The There, we would not escape the sorrows of The Here.

Depressed further, Sartorius nursed yet another complaint against that beckoning perfect world, against the dream of, the destination of perfection. It ever seemed to mock. It prevented at every turn the realization of the attainable, and wracked with dissatisfaction and feelings of inadequacy, his every accomplishment. Never enough! The perfect, he thought, became too much an enemy of the good, and the dream turned the dreamers into the walking wounded, the maimed and disabled of the Here and Now in which we were doomed and forced to live. Would there ever be a Paralympics of the human spirit to crown with laurals their endless sufferings?

Goethe and Mohammad racked their brains for a solution. They paced back and forth across the platform. Mohammad soon tired of the fruitless pacing and decided to stroll about in the pathways leading to the Station of Transit. Walking full circle about the base of the hexagonal platform he spotted on its lower and outer wall a verse graffiti:

Seeking but not finding the house-builder

I travelled through life after life;

How painful is repeated birth!

House-builder, you have now been seen;

You will not build the house again.

Gautama, Dhammapada

Below it was inscribed in another hand another graffito:

The Foxes have Holes

The foxes have holes, and the birds of the sky have nests, but one like the son of man has nowhere to lay his head.

Mohammad gazed at the graffito long and long. He knew the graffiti was an omen, and he struggled to find its meaning. Then he returned to the platform and sat himself down in the Lotus position upon the stone Yin/Yang symbol at its center. He looked about him and above his head he perceived the topping branches of the immense Tree of Yggdrasil penetrating the cosmic heaven. From its furthest branch arched downward above his head he saw the form of a Rose-Apple hanging amidst a bouquet of eternal flowers. He fixed his attention unbrokenly upon the Rose-Apple as his object of meditation. He entered successively into the Four Absorptions, the Jhana. In the First Absorption he became oblivious to everything around him, though still capable of casual and concerted thought, as his mind and attention dwelled solely upon the Rose-Apple. In the Second and Third Absorptions Mohammad left off thinking entirely, becoming more and more absorbed in his object of meditation alone, and with this intensified concentration he left behind all feelings of comfort and pleasure of the contemplating mind. Finally, in the Fourth Absorption, he was aware only of the Rose-Apple and had forgotten himself completely, abiding in a sense of firm equanimity, beyond any feelings of pain or pleasure. Indeed from his point of view he might be said to have become the Rose-Apple.

Mohammad then slowly rose upon his heels from the Lotus position to an upright posture, his eyes still closed to all around him and his mind continuing in its power of concentration. His heels and toes began to alternately strike the ground and he began to whirl upon his pivoting heels. This gyring increased its pace and intensity, accelerating as his mind attained further concentration. His arms alternately swung wide and clasped about his torso, now quickening and now braking his spinning, at turns. Once again in spinning his meditative concentration intensified and intensified further, and he embarked upon the transit of each successive Ayatana—the Spiritual or Meditative Planes. It seemed to him that he was reaching an escape velocity in the transit between the Plane of Existence and the further sphere of Non-Existence, and he felt himself projected off into a trajectory in a sort of astral travel. He felt himself transiting the topography of an unseen world.

The First Meditative Plane he reached was the Meditative Plane of Undelimited Space. He left behind all perceptions of variety and transcended the particular qualities of the object of his meditation. He thus remained conscious but no longer with any detailed and definite object of consciousness. He seemed to lose himself in the vastness of the extensions of the Infinite.

Entering the Second Meditative Plane, that of Undelimited Consciousness, he was but aware of consciousness alone, without being conscious of anything. Mohammad accelerated the velocity of his whirling until he approached the next quantum leap.

When he had survived the shock of the Third Meditative Plane, Mohammad was barely aware that "there is nothing," an awareness that felt to him rather like that of coming into a room and finding no one is there: it was not an awareness of who is not there, but just an awareness of absence. This was the Meditative Plane of Nothingness. It was for him a state of neither perception nor of non-perception, but one in which consciousness was so refined, or suppressed, that he could only just retrieve from such state a bare awareness of its existence.

Then Mohammad seemed to feel a wobble grow into a shaking and finally he felt himself thrown from his spinning orbit. He fell to the ground losing all consciousness. When he awoke he saw Goethe's face looking down at him as he held his head and tried to get him to take some water. He looked about him and saw all his fellow Argonauts gathered on the hexagonal platform. Looking again he saw that the platform was not the same as the one he had begun upon. The branches of the Tree of Yggdrasil were not above his head but rather appeared on the other, farther side of the abyss. Behind, the Tree of Yggdrasil was lit from within itself with radiant ornaments resembling those of the Christmas tree lights on which luminescent names were inscribed and legible: Keter, Binah, Hokhmath, Daat; Givurah, Hesed, Tif'eret; Hod, Netzah, Yesod, Malkhut. He looked about and saw a banner stretched above the archway over his head: "Station of the Complete Expunging—Welcome to the Council of the Immortals" All about him were smiles and congratulations. His meditative journeying had brought the entire company across the abyss and deposited them on the opposite Station of Transit on the threshold of the amphitheater of the Council of the Immortals. As they moved forward and downward into the funnel of the amphitheater they took in its magnificent panorama:

At the center of the spectacle appears the Angel Gabriel like as conductor of the orchestra, amidst the wheeling shapes that enter and exit, form and re-form, and dis-form at flow with his ictus and cheironomy; of voices that discourse out of their faceless flames; of letters, symbols, signs and words spelled out across the heavens by living lights in flight; of flames that shape the remarkable fluid spiritual essence that embodies and disembodies and returns to the universal solution of energy in the forms and voices of its members. Seated at his right hand and assisting him as scribe and scoremaster, was the incandescent Angel of Firelight, whose flesh, which had been the flesh of Enoch, some say Idris or Fu Xi, some say Faust, who walked at God's side and then no longer was, was turned to flames, his veins to fire, his eye-lashes to flashes of lightning, and whom God thus translated from the merest plane of Earth and placed on a throne next to the Throne of Glory, initiated into the secrets of the Creation and entrusted with its dear treasures, and thereafter received in honour in the Court of Supreme Glory after his heavenly transformation, created angelic-noble by name, newly coined, of Metatron.

This forum, a maelstrom of light in perfect equilibrium, lay sedate upon the vast ocean of the infinite, welcoming the arrival of its illustrious members. Therefore, these beings and divine-touched natures moving to different ports across the mighty Sea of Being, each given the particular genius of its own impulse that would bear it on its own trajectory towards the center, set anchor at this time and place and moored their beings in the roads of the eternal to accomplish its work. This impulse and genius carries fire to the stars and is the motive force which brings unity to the sentient and inspirited creatures of every creation, and binds the earth, galaxy and creation together, and makes it one.

Yet for each of these Immortals, this place was not without its melancholy, for within the infinite each had also left behind everything they might have loved most dearly, and home, and thus it is the arrow that the bow of exile shoots first. They knew and tasted the honey of the eternal, knew also the bitter taste of others' bread, and how salt it is, and knew how hard a path it is for one who goes descending and ascending others' stairs, or has voyaged forth in their tiny vessel of being upon the Sea of the Infinite, partaking of landlessness and homelessness in their onward questing, unless the whole of the universe be found their final home and land. Thus they welcomed Sartorius and his comrades as brothers, without prejudging their suit before them.

For Sartorius there was the initial humility—yet paradoxical pride of one who in naked buoyancy and joyous presumption, even fleeting complacency contemplates his accustomed world not only from the heights, but also savors the height itself. Even mindful of his sacred mission in regards the survival of the human species, how ambivalent he felt contemplating the miniscule proportions of the globe his home over which the powers set themselves in deadly strife, and the empty syllogisms of its pretended understandings, the sterile armamentarium of its supposed linkages of cause and effect. To him from the perspectives of these heights how senseless seemed the cares of mortals, and how deceiving were the low reasonings that brought their wings to flights so low, to earthly things! Only the living memory of the face of his beloved Eva, with his son and future growing within her, recalled him to himself.

Thus it fell to Sartorius' lot to plead to the Council for the missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril and by extension for the continued survival of the human race on earth. Goethe stood by his side as his sponsor and counsel, but intimated that as a member of the Council of Immortals himself he could not act as his advocate but must reserve his impartial judgment after listening to both sides. Thus Sartorius began as the Advocate of Affirmation:

"Brothers, Comrades, Lords, Spirits, Sages, Sisters, Saints and Excellencies! Fellow-Citizens of the Universe, of All Countries, Planets, Ages and Creations! I come to you on a sacred mission and on a sacred trust to my own people. The Magister Ludi has commissioned me to speak to you on behalf of the Order of the Crystal Bead Game of Castalia, Middle Earth and on behalf of the inhabitants of Earth. As you are aware the Game has reached a stalemate. With the missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril Quasicrystal which you may be so gracious to provide, the Spiritus Mundi may make the quantum leap to the next level of its onwards evolution. Without its life-giving and life-preserving insemination within the womb of the reactor the world will plunge back to savagery, self-destruction and annihilation. Granted, the human race is young and immature, and its follies are legion. I cannot come to you to plead the perfection of our species. I have come to you rather in this seat of the divine spirit to rather plead that the human spirit, however base, ignorant, immature and savage, nonetheless contains within it the onwardly evolving seeds of the divine and its divine creation. However deviated and chaotic, however lost in the savagery of his own meaninglessly empty fits and starts, the spirit of man, the Spiritus Mundi, is on a trajectory of conjunction with the eternal spirit. I ask of you to give us the means of continuing our onward if faltering journey towards that conjunction with the infinite!—Thank you."

Next it was the time for the opposition to voice their arguments. In crimson robes Mephisto rose to give rejoinder as the Advocate of Negation. As he brushed Sartorius' elbow as the one descended and the other mounted the podium, he whispered in Sartorius' ear: "The man-shaped light shall not deliver you." Then he began to speak:

"To quote the words written by the divine hand: Mene Mene Tekel...!—You have been tried and found wanting!" spake the anti-geist... "Why are we here my Lords? Have alien armies attacked and overwhelmed the human race unjustly? None! The present crisis arises from the uneradicated and uneradicable contradictions and failures of the human heart itself. Weak in love and strong in its violence, avarice, fear, hatred, selfishness, ignorance, blindness, arrogance and self-love it makes a feast of shells of the cornucopia which the divine creation has endowed it. What do these gentlemen ask of us?—More! Ever More!—Having blighted the endowment which they have been given they ask for more and ever more—more time! More Crystals! They have had millennia after millennia to correct their failings and yet persist in them to the last syllable of uttered time. Mercy is a noble quality, and generosity is much admired. Some would say: another chance! another chance! Yet mercy which is totally blind to fault and unendingly tolerant of error and failings cannot pretend any more to the name of Justice but must admit itself to be but the basest infantile drooling sentiment. I ask of you, My Lords, rise to your duty and to your responsibility. Allow this failed experiment to collapse of its own fatal contradictions! I therefore ask this august assembly to dissolve itself on a vote of no-confidence in this ingenious professor and in his failed race, and thusly, in solemn accordance with our cosmic statutes, that the matter be referred for final action to the Dark Lords of the Other Place, and that the Parliament of Death be convened at the Black Hole of Final Singularity for terminal execution forthwith. I ask this Council to act on principle and to act in accordance with its proper dignity in refusing any further extension of the allotted fate of this unfortunate race!—Thank You!"

Then the Archangel Gabriel announced that either side might make Rebuttal argument before the voting would take place. Sartorius took up the argument: "My Immortal Lords! My worthy colleague speaking for the Negation has indeed spoken eloquently and convincingly! The failures of the human race are obvious and legion. Wars, genocides, fraud, slavery and exploitation, egotism and violence are too common even to the present day. Can I promise you a day when they shall cease? I cannot. I admit it all. Man is intimately connected to Nature by an unseverable psychic umbilical that often as not knots itself into the ties of bondage or the hangman's noose. Nature yields the impulses of sexual attraction, love, animal spirits, the desire for power, gratification and knowledge, the mystique of childhood and the eternal feminine—yet often as not in man these are perverted into the tragedy of degeneracy, negation, homicide and self-destruction. Nature calls all things into life and existence in time, and wills their departure from it. Man's culture arises from this force of nature and sometimes cultivates and refines it and sometimes stifles and destroys its life force, often erring in its unnatural social conventions and repressions. Man's language remains bent and cowed before the ineffable. But in all of this—All I say!—in all of this man is connected through nature to the divine creativity which brought the universe forth! In his eternal striving man will unendingly err and detour into sinfulness...Yes!—But in his unending striving he also contains the spark of the creative divine force which links him with the infinite and the eternal! If you fail to grant our request today you will have extinguished not one small species within one small solar system of this galaxy, but you would have extinguished the spark of the eternal contained within the human spirit and thereby you would have extinguished a small bit of the eternal life force, the eternal divine itself! I ask you to keep that immortal spark alive!—Thank You, my Immortal Lords!"

Mephisto having waived rebuttal the Lords Immortal proceeded to pass through the turnstiles which counted their votes: Yea and Nay. At the end of the voting Metatron tallied and retallied the outcome and then Gabriel in the Chair announced that the vote was tied. In such a case cosmic protocol required that the Senate of the Cosmopolitans—the inner council of the wisest and most enlightened of the Council of Immortals—consider the case in the light of Divine Equity. Metatron then consulting the divine edicts, they put their heads together in whispered consultation then ruled that in such a case there remained but one course open for the Petitioner, that being the Trial by Ordeal, whereby the divine will would be queried and revealed through action. After a pause for prayer and meditation by the Cosmopolitan Senate, Gabriel announced that the Trial by Ordeal would be set forth as follows: Sartorius's Petition would be granted if he could choose the appropriate quasicrystal from an array of nine hundred and ninety-nine in play within the poly-dimensional chessboard-like matrix. Leading Sartorius to a vast reactor retort pulsing with iridescent light and containing the various crystals, each on its own pedestal reflecting innumerable facets and archetypal images of knowledge and experience which changed as the pieces moved, his test was defined and his immediate instructions were given him: amoung the nine and nine and ninety he must choose the crystal which within the game's matrix represents himself.

Sartorius, in a cold sweat, examined the various quasicrystals. Each one had a facial or iconic image projected on its largest facet in laser light: The Emperor, The Chariot, The Angel, The Mother, The Dark Lady, The Spy, The Traitor, The Prodigal Son, The Prophet, The Poet, The Seer, The God, The Goddess, The Earth Mother, The Sky Father, The Male of the Species and the Female of the Species, The World, The Scapegoat, The Other, Nemesis, The Devil, The Lover, The Beloved, The Orgasmic, Death, Birth, The Father, The Son, The Daughter—The Wanderer, The Sailor, The Teacher, The Soldier, The Gambler, The Hierophant, The Homeless, The Homemaker, The Homebreaker—The Fallen Angel, The Risen Saint, The Serpent, The Rebel, Horror, Justice, The Child, the Embryo Bent in the Womb, The Seed of Generation and the Infated Egg of Onward Life, The Son of Man, Temperance, The Wheel of Fortune—The Hanged Man, The Man of Reason, The Mystic, The Forked-Tongue Man of Language, The Masturbator, The Slut, The Sodomite, The Law Maker, The Luster after God, The Raper and Pillager, The Searcher, The Quester, The Maker, The Creator, The Destroyer, The Discoverer, The Forgetter—The Man of Tradition, the Yogi, the Guru, The Noble, The Commoner, The Cuckold, The Thief, The Aristocrat, The Man of the People, The Enemy of the People—The Dark Stranger, The Faithful One, The One of Unfaithfulness, The Brother's Murderer, The Murdered Brother, The Hermit, The Man of Passion, The Man of Conscience, The Judge, The Outsider—The Whore, The Bitch, The Madonna, The Madman, The Sister, The Brother, The Cannibal, The Taboo Maker, The Taboo Breaker, The Stoic, The Saint, The Sensualist, The Sick Soul, The Mystic, The Caliban, The Byronic Hero—The Renouncer of the World, The Embracer of the World, The Destroyer of the World, The World's Creator, The Ruler of the World, The Christ, The-Anti-Christ, The Buddha, The Dao, The Mahdi, The Messiah, The Sufi Dervish, The Stumble Bum—The Ogun, The Apollinian, The Dionysian, The Promethian, The Sinner, The Liar, The Shadow, The Scapegoat, The Misleader, The Penitant, The Maitreya, The Sister of Mercy, The Virgin, The Virgin Mother, The Witch, The Nurse, The Breast Giver, The Seducer, The Sorceress, The Blasphemer—The Healthy-Minded, The Convert, The True Believer, The True Unbeliever, The Icon Maker, The Iconoclast, The Anima, The Animus, The Hero, The Martyr, The Warrior, The Gentleman, The Man of Earth, The Crusader, The Man of Fire, The Man of Water, The Jihadist, The Man of Air, The Natural Man, The Holy Ghost, The Messenger of God, The Sage, The Renaissance Man, The Psychotic, The Guru, The Sociopath, The Ubermensch, The Revolutionary, The New Woman, The Feminist, The Pervert, The Panderer, The Peasant, The Subaltern, The Tyrant, The Trickster, The Significant Other, The Spermatazoa of the Future Generations, The Ancient of Days ...He fingered one after another in his hand, picking them up and examining their minor facets and replacing them where he found them, unable to make a decision. He wracked his brain for the solution to the puzzle, for the answer to the riddle. He felt faint. He felt dizzy. His anger overflowed as he was about to knock the pieces onto the ground in his impotent rage. Then he saw the faces of his two sons, Jack and his unborn unnamed son resting under the caress of Eva's hand upon her belly. Immediately he took in the omen. He closed his eyes and grasped at the first crystal he felt and then relying on pure intuition placed it in the hand of the Angel Gabriel. Gabriel held it up above his head and read it: "The Fool!"

From the arms of the galactic amphitheatre rose a clapping, growing into a thunderous applause. Gabriel and Goethe laughed arm in arm. Goethe then approached Sartorius and embraced him with both arms, whispering into his ear. You see, Robert, all of the pieces are you! Any piece you grasped would have solved the puzzle. There is only one way to fail the Ordeal, and that is to lose your spirit and fail to grasp any piece. The Quasicrystal bears and channels the living energy of the As If. Faith will out, any faith, which is but faith in life itself!" Then Metatron, the keeper and steward of the divine treasures, placed the Seed Crystal, the glorious Silmaril in a leathern pouch and hung it around Sartorius' neck, invoking: "Take then this holy crystal as the highest destiny decrees, and undertake with it my Stewardship over the Seeds of the Future. For with the gifts of the creation come the high calling of Stewardship over the creation. We entrust to you and mankind stewardship of these seeds of the future on earth, as the farmer receives the seed corn out of his share of the universal blessing, and entrust to you its onward due sowing, cultivation, preservation and generation for the universal benefit of future generations of both mankind and of all the species of the earth's environment and the onward life of the encompassing universe, and high stewardship in trust over its powers, and future evolution."

Taking the Seed Crystal from the pouch and examining it closely Sartorius saw that there was nothing on it, no mysterious symbols or energies radiating from it. It appeared to be a simple, ordinary large crystal—beautiful and exquisite to be sure but not unlike a thousand others. Then he knew that any given thing on the face of the earth could reveal and realize the history and destiny of all things. The Quasicrystal contained the primordial, the source and origin. One could open a book to any page, or look at the lines of a person's hand; one could turn up a card, or watch the flights of birds or the entrails of birds...whatever the thing observed, one could find the connection with his experience of the moment and how that connected to the flow of energies that carried it along in the endless flow of the dimensions and modalities of its existence and its endless transformations. Actually, it wasn't that those things in themselves, revealed anything at all; it was just that people, looking at what was occurring around them, could find a means of penetration into the Soul of the World, the Spiritus Mundi.

Afterwards, preparing for the return journey, Sartorius contemplated his collision with mystery. He had hungered all his life for the "Bread of the Angels," for the meaning of life. He now knew that the bread of the angels was also the bread of desire and the bread of pain; the bread of faith was also the bread of suffering and the bread of absurdity, the manna of life itself. What he had seen and experienced had not relieved the dissatisfaction of his mind. To his mind he realized that we cannot satisfy our minds by the truth beyond whose boundary no truth lies. "It can never be satisfied, the mind, never." he thought to himself. That bread of angels that he hungered for being also the bread of desire also took the form that longing engenders. Perhaps even the holiest of angels could not fully comprehend the mystery of his origin and destiny, nor could his hunger be fully requited by any amount of manna. Sartorius recalled the phrase he had memorized out of Dante:

Eternal Light, You only dwell within

Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing,

Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself!

It was the manna that all of us receive in act and memory that he tasted then, the manna of days and nights of grace that lie beyond the algebra of merits in the metamorphic vicissitudes and the mutabilities of a man who by his very nature was given to every sort of change and every sort of human possibility. He wrote on a small notebook a poem, and was relieved in the sense of his poetry as prayer, a prayer of faith, in a faith beyond any belief. He thought of Eva and his unborn son and of his voyaging son Jack and of Eva's smile emanating out towards him that seemed to disperse all the clouds of his mortality such that his loving sentiments preserved their perseverance. "Love made me what I am..." he thought, "that I may be what I was not before seeking..." He lost himself in that smile in that place, deep in the erotics of knowing.

# CHAPTER XII.

### Nemesis

1

After the band of Argonauts secured the Seed Crystal they made haste to return to Middle Earth and the Crystal Bead Game in Castalia, Inner Shambhala to break the stalemate and release the world from the impending threat of nuclear Armageddon. Gabriel walked with them to the transitway to wish them well on their return journey. In parting he warned Sartorius: "Professor Sartorius, you have attained a measure of triumph to date, but beware, Mephisto you may rest assured is a poor loser. You may be certain that he will not rest in equanimity while there is still a chance for him and his minions to stop you. Therefore, take these amulets and place them in your pouch along with the Seed Crystal. They will help you and your friends resist the powers of Mephisto and his Subaltern Mundus and all the darker forces and demons at their command." With that he summoned Metatron to bring the Ark of the Treasures of Heaven, from which he drew and placed four amulets on golden chains within Sartorius' pouch: The Arcana Medaglia, the Arcana Spada, the Arcana Calice and the Arcana Bastone.

They then quickly re-entered and began to re-transit the Umbilical Worm-hole retracing their path earthward with the aim of rejoining Eva and the small band who had remained to secure the open portal on Omphalos. The bulk of this rear guard, in addition to Eva herself, whose presence in the doorway miraculously kept the portal open pending the Argonauts return, consisted of the crew members of Nemo's submarine, including Nemo himself, who for some obscure reason sported such picturesque names as Dante, Vergil, Nero, Lady Trish, MeloAngelo and Oroboros.

No sooner had Sartorius and the Argonauts re-appeared in a whirling surge of fluorescent laser-light and the overpowering supernal humming and susurrus of the Umbilical in action, than a chorus of jubilation rose up amoung the rear-guard sentinels, and they rushed forward as one man to join and welcome them. Their joy was however immediately cut short as an immense figure imposed itself between the returning heroes and the rearward cohort, materializing in ambush amidst a host of monstrous demons, demi-fiends, and hideous emanations of the darker powers.

The figure was immense, a veritable Goliath in proportions, and on his head were displayed three faces, each arrayed with three eyes, one in the center of each proud forehead. Strange to say, however, this so monstrous form was endowed with the most angelic beauty, and the faces, notwithstanding their uncanny three eyes, exuded the most magnetic and celestial beauty, the aquiline noses and consummately lined and ruby-guled reflex-bowed lips having an almost sexual power of attraction and grace. The limbs were those of the most exquisite Greek God ever approached in form in artistic imagination by Phidias, and every step he took forward embodied the rhythmic and musical grace of a divine dithyramb. The eyes were of the clearest celestial blue, and down his back hung in languorous flow a cascade of golden-blonde curling hair of which Aphrodite herself would have been jealous. Anyone beholding him would take him for the most beautiful angel, except for the three Bhuddistic faces, and one more hideous defect in the perfection of his appearance: In his chest, in the very place where one would find a beating heart, was the most horrid and empty hole, a ghastly trench bloody and dark and gaping, beneath which was written a cerulean tattoo with the words: Mundo nomen impositum ab eo mundo qui supra nos est (The Mundus gets its name from the world that is above us). It was Mundus, Mephisto's Subaltern, and boldly he ordered forward the minions of his demonic and monstrous host to block the path of Sartorius and the venturing heroes, separating them from Eva and the portal she held open for their return to the earth.

Not to be intimidated, Ogun moved forward in front of Sartorius and pointed his phallic staff towards the gaping trench in Mundus's empty chest and commanded:

"Move aside Mundus, or I will finish digging the grave so beautifully begun on your unmanly chest, and bury you forever in your own emptiness! Tremble in fear, for I am Ogun, the Way Maker, and after we give battle the devil may cry!"

Mundus laughed in haughty derision from his three glorious mouths like the volley of a battery of cannon, and retorted: "Ogun, I shall bury you in this otherworld! You have no power here! Your powers are of the Earth, and like Hercules crushing Antaeus by holding him above the touch of earth, so I will crush you before you can transit the passage back to your life-giving Earth! I give you one last chance to surrender!"

Ogun in contempt let fly his phallic staff like a spear, and it lodged in the cleft in Mundus's chest where his heart should have been. Mundus wailed a shriek of agony and then gripped his fist around the upright quivering shaft and pulled it from his chest, breaking it in two against the side of the immense stone door, the Lapis Manalis.

"Very well, fool! Prepare to die, along with your delusional friends who will never see their beloved Earth again! Forwards!" he beckoned to the myriad hideous demon-soldiers of his infernal host, swarming forwards like innumerable insects, as he rushed towards Ogun and Sartorius, drawing his black obsidian sword and urging them into the fray!

By this time Sartorius had opened the pouch and took out the four amulets given to him by the Angel Gabriel. The first, the Arcana Spada, transformed itself into a cluster of laser swords, the chief and largest amoung which, the Sword of Sparda, he quickly tossed to Ogun. Ogun gripped it fiercely in his hand, the immense muscles and sinews of his massive arm flexing beneath his ebony skin before him as he blocked the sword-thrust from Mundus and recoiling threw him against the massive stone door of the portal. Then the two locked themselves in a mortal combat of swordplay and wrestling, throwing down pillars and breaking up walls as they crashed to and fro. Sartorius distributed the remaining laser-swords to the Argonauts, and a cluster of them magically transported themselves into the hands of Nemo' men guarding Eva across the field of combat. They all launched themselves into the pitch of battle in a wave of shouting and bravery, as the demon-warriors pressed in both directions, attacking the Argonauts and blocking their path homewards and rushing in the opposite direction towards Eva, threatening to move her from the threshold and cause the great Lapis Manalis stone door to close forever. Sartorius then drew the Arcana Calice, the sacred cup from the pouch and threw it to Eva on the other side of the battlefield, which with uncanny accuracy found its way into her outstretched hands, and which she fastened around her neck, creating a veritable force-field momentarily impenetrable to the weapons of the demon-horde while it held. Meanwhile the Argonauts attempted to foray forwards towards the open portal and the waiting Eva.

Then the battle deepened and each warrior, good and evil, paired off against their corresponding opponents in dire combat. From Eva's side the first to enter into the combat was Vergil. Vergil wasn't one to show fear, but in times like these one usually does have the anxiety to let out "Holy Shit".

Running forward Vergil was heading straight towards the beast, Leviathan, and it seemed there was nothing he could do to avoid being crushed under its immense mass.

Once more, the amulet sword shone a bright blue, and Vergil could feel himself speeding up. The Aracana Spada sword had the ability to speed up time for its bearer and to slow down time for its enemy. Vergil thus felt like a fly must feel when it effortlessly anticipates and avoids the massive force of the swat of a human hand. It had seemed that the amulet was trying to protect him as time accelerated and the great sword arm of the Behemoth slowed to a glacial pace. It was as if the amulet was some kind of guardian. Thus as Vergil effortlessly avoided the massive blow which came directly at him in such slow-motion, with amazing rapidity he cut off the arm which held the aggressing sword.

He then felt himself rushing towards the huge beast, at great speed. But the other minions seemed to have other plans, and struck out right before Vergil had reached the creature.

Vergil fought them off easily. Slicing one in half, and cutting straight through another's head. Demonic blood being spilt, splattering across the vault of stone in the midnight sky above, flying demons of evil continued fighting above their heads, where the Heavens ought to be.

Vergil was hit by a lightning blast that the huge creature had sent out. Being knocked back slightly, he dodged to veer away from the large demon, the hideous Leviathan.

But there was no luck. Vergil was about to witness the terror. The huge demonic hand rose to strike out the deadly blow. The amulet sword shone once more blue, and the world was brought to a halt.

But it hadn't all stopped. Everything was still moving, but at an incredibly slow rate. The amulet had stopped everything, giving Vergil time to save Eva from a deadly onslaught.

Vergil, proud of his own prowess, wasn't one to usually use something such as Quicksilver, which was the name of the amulet sword. But then again, he hadn't. It was the amulet that had done this. The amulet had slowed everything down.

With the greatest of ease, Vergil smashed away at the demon's giant hand. And after much hacking, he sliced the hand away. The demon's face could be seen making a scream of pain, but in slow motion.

This slow scream of pain pleased Vergil greatly. But then the scream started to speed up, and the demon burst into a fit of rage at normalized speed. It smashed Vergil back with its other hand, and sent him flying through the air, but a final blow from Quicksilver severing its head left it panting, spurting black demonic blood and dying on the floor.

The demonic army advanced swiftly on the battlefield. The demonic warriors all geared up; marching through the place intent on destroying all human objects in their path. It was clear that when their eyes had fixed upon Nero, Nemo and the gang of sailors, that they were going to start to make an attack. Swords were raised, and blood was about to be shed.

Without time for witty one liners, Nemo and Nero were drawn into the midst of brutal battle. Swords clashed, and demons cried with pain as Nemo smashed them apart with Red Queen, his amulet sword, leaving blood along the pavement. Nero was hacking away at some smaller types of demons, whilst Nemo dealt heavy blows of damage to the larger ones.

Sending three demons up into the air all at once with his amulet sword Devil Bringer, Nero was making it look easy. That was, until the larger demons arrived. Their jaws dripping with blood from their last kill. The skin of humans stuck to their fur, as they had just ravished a group of poor and innocent men rushing from the Omphalos side to reinforce the hard-pressed heroes.

Growling and cackling, they charged forward and jumped into the air. The wolf type demonic creatures laid down several heavy blows from their huge teeth, but Nero smacked them off from him. As the battle continued, Nemo spotted something that would help fend off most of the demons. A nearby power cell of hydrogen brought from the ship. He fired one fire bolt from his amulet sword towards the power cell, and watched as it blew apart. The rubble managed to block most of the demon's access tunnel off; giving the Argonauts more time to deal with the current enemies.

"Perhaps I should show you how things are really done" Dante said, as he finally stepped in to help out. Unsheathing his amulet sword Yamato quickly, it slammed through the stomachs of two nearby enemies. The spatter of blood went everywhere as Dante continued to annihilate the swarms of enemy Phantoms and Demons.

Nemo's midshipman Oroboros upped the game a little, and started to rev-up his amulet sword Red Queen. He unleashed a fiery blast of rage with his laser-sword, sending several fiends flying up into the air. It almost rained blood onto their whole gang. Vergil spotted Nero's perilous stand in the ebbing and flowing situation, and upped his game too. Calling into play into Devil Trigger, he sliced through an entire group of demons, and slashed them into tiny pieces.

"Huh?" Nero remarked...

As if the competition between who has the better moves was being fought between Vergil and Nero; Lady Trish, Nemo's fourth officer decided to step in with one of her better moves.

Opening up her wings which the amulet had conferred upon her like a warrior-angel, she sent sharp feathers flying all over the place, a celestial cluster-bomb, each packing an explosive laser charge. At the end of it all, about thirty demons hit the ground dead. Even Ogun raised his eyebrow, and looked like he was going to compliment Lady Trish's skill. But he didn't.

Instead, he employed his one large sword, Sparda, and swung it straight through the crowd of demons. As they were all impaled, he rushed forward, stabbing through more and more demons as he ran, creating an immense shish-ka-bob of demonic corpses. In the end, he lifted up the huge sword that had several demons impaled onto it, and swung it once more. Sending pieces of demons flying all over the place.

Then right in between boasts a hidden door was smashed open by a bunch of zombies.

"Don't worry I'll deal with it" said MeloAngelo, and he got up, he pulled out his Holy Driver revolver and shot the zombie-like creature in the head, the thing let out a wail and hit the floor dead.

"Any more of those things?" asked Dante.

MeloAngelo peered out the door, " Yeah there's loads" he said.

And more of the zombies approached Eva, intent on feasting on human brains and closing the portal. One of the zombies tried to bite Eva's head, but MeloAngelo just pushed it away and shot it to pieces.

"You see," said MeloAngelo, in between fighting, "The problem with these, is that they're too damn slow", and he grabbed his sword and sliced the zombie in half.

"Go and grab that sword over there" said MeloAngelo, and he pointed to the Rebellion Sword. So Dante grabbed the sword and spun it around trying to hit the zombie swarm, he manage to hit a few but they managed to slash Dante, which to Dante's surprise had little effect on him. At the same time MeloAngelo pulled out his amulet weapon, this time an laser-pulse automatic machine pistol and shot the hell out of the zombies that were attacking Eva.

As he moved down a tunnel a door behind Dante slammed shut. Dante continued to move forward, the face becoming more and more visible.

Then he gained his normal vision after a few seconds. And there he saw what stood before him.

The three Phantoms attacked, all raising fire from the ground around Dante.

Dante sped to one side, and avoided the flames. A fire bolt headed his way, and he repelled it with his sword.

The Phantoms scurried towards him, and Dante flipped into the air. Charging up his amulet pistols Ebony and Ivory, he opened fire onto them whilst in mid-air. He finally landed, and swung one of the Phantoms by the tail. He smashed the other two Phantoms, and then threw the one he was holding into a wall. The Phantom landed unharmed onto the wall.

The Phantom then jumped from the wall, and came towards Dante. Standing firm in his place, he equipped his amulet bludgeon Gilgamesh quickly and smashed the Phantom into the air.

The other two shot at Dante, knocking him back a fair distance. Dante skidded across the ground, and finally regained his feet. Preserving his DT, he taunted the final two Phantoms.

Then, with a loud crash that shook the ground around the entire portal. The Phantom Dante had sent flying into the air, landed down hard onto one of the remaining Phantoms.

Dante switched from Ebony and Ivory, to Coyote A. One of the remaining Phantoms charged, and was shot back heavily with Coyote A, whilst Dante was using Gunslinger.

Switching to Sword Master, Dante smashed one of the Phantoms into the air, and juggled it with his sword.

Finally, he knocked it up into the air. Jumping onto the other Phantom, he jumped off from it and landed onto the airborne one. Smashing Rebellion into its stomach, he then spun around on it whilst it was flying in the air.

He jumped from it, and landed down. Grabbing the last Phantom by the neck, and ripping its entire head off using only his brute strength.

Sartorius, meanwhile had made use of the Arcana Bastone, the sacred staff from the pouch. Marginally effective in suppressing the attacking demons, Sartorius discovered its greater powers when he held its end high above his head. He found that when he held the staff at arm's length high above his head the battle front moved forward triumphantly in favor of his comrades, but when his arm grew tired and the staff drooped towards the ground the tide turned in favor of the horrific myriads of Mundus and the Argonauts were forced to retreat. Sartorius, Moses-like, thus strained to keep his arm and the staff erect, finally assisted by Lady Trish who breaking through from the other side, helped to hold his arm high and erect until the final phases of the battle.

Jack with his amulet sword Excalibur at the ready, lashed forward, cutting through the Grim Reapers as he ran. Never had the sword felt that much swiftness, it hadn't felt blood trickle down it for a long time. The sword swung into the skin of its victims, slicing them apart as it did, but then Jack and Nemo noticed a bigger threat than the reapers.

Standing before them was a huge dragon, but it was no ordinary dragon, it was the Dragon King Krypton, who had awoken from the Underworld after eons of sleep.

"Man he seems angry about something" Jack said, as the beast let out a heart trembling roar.

"This is not good Jack, something bad has happened. We have to take that thing down fast" Nemo said.

Jack jumped on top of a group of Reapers and made a giant leap towards the Dragon King, but the dragon was too quick and had already blasted a fire bolt at Jack. Nemo thought Jack was a goner for sure, but soon realised not to be so quick at judging things. Sartorius, seeing Jack's plight, had taken the Arcana Medaglia from the pouch and tossed it to Jack, momentarily setting down the Arcana Bastore staff. Now Jack's body was immersed in some kind of a water shield, and as soon as the dragon-fire had hit his body it went out. Jack stabbed the Templar sword Excalibur into the dragon's stomach, but the dragon still seemed fine after this attack, and swung its huge claws at Jack.

Jack let go off the sword handle and landed on the ground. Nemo had caught up after just killing some reapers.

"How we going to take this flame-head down?" Nemo asked, whilst the dragon was pulling the Templar sword out of its stomach and throwing it to the floor.

"We work as a team. I'll attack the front and you go for the back of the head" said Jack. Jack picked his laser-sword back up and slashed at the dragon's legs, the dragon starting kicking and Jack dodged the large feet. Nemo went around the back of the dragon and hoisting himself up upon its body, he felt the laser blade sear deep into its back and watched as the Dragon King hit the ground head on.

"Way to go!—He wasn't quick enough to fight back" said Jack.

Just then an imaginably huge and malign presence cast its shadow forth over the hearts of the heroes.

Ogun stepped forward to meet him and shouted defiantly: "I am not afraid of you; I am afraid of nothing."

"Don't make me laugh weakling, none have beat me, I am Behemoth and my mighty strength will crush you weakling" Behemoth replied.

Ogun got real ****ed at Behemoth's taunting attitude, so he decided to dive straight into combat with the beast. Behemoth tried a punching combo move that smashed away at a pillar, whilst Ogun mounted higher up in the chamber and did a move called a spiral descend.

Ogun plunged downwards and hit Behemoth on the jaw with his Devil Bringer, and then started slashing away at Behemoth with the amulet sword Red Queen until he eventually smashed Behemoth into the air and shot away at him with the amulet firearms Blue Rose and Red Tyrant.

Behemoth was peppered with a hail of gunfire but still when he landed he returned to his feet and started to attack Ogun with his flaming hot Fire Whip.

The Fire Whip nearly immolated Ogun on several occasions, and once it singed him and he could almost feel the burning hot hellish flame from the whip.

"Begad!... got to get to where that whip won't work" Ogun thought to himself.

So luckily Ogun jumped up and kicked off of Behemoths chest, soaring through the air and when he got even higher up the chamber walls he taunted Behemoth.

Behemoth got enraged and climbed higher as well. When Behemoth met with Ogun he tried to knock him to the ground with a raging flame kick attack. However a little teleport move positioned Nero right behind Behemoth, and Nero struck Red Queen into Behemoth's back.

Behemoth still undefeated back kicked and knocked Ogun to the ground, but when Behemoth turned to attack Nero again, Nero pulled out his two laser guns and shot away at Behemoth.

"Uh-oh! seems a little less than effective" Ogun thought to himself.

"Hey scum bag, try this on for size" said Ogun, and he reached for his Lucius sword.

Behemoth looked fearful when he saw the crimson glow emitting from the sword, and a huge red angelic beast materialized that dwarfed Behemoth and pulled him up higher and higher like a kitten lifted by the scruff of its neck, then finally thrust him lethally to the ground, leaving behind only an unrecognizeable lifeless pulp.

Then another great beast appeared, immense with ten-thousand eyes and ten-thousand venomous tentacles flailing in all directions, the eyes seeing all and the tentacles paralyzing all they came in contact with, with their lightest touch like some primordial Argus or Briareus.

"God help us!" cried Ogun, "It's Laplace's Demon!—don't look into the eyes Sartorius!—they hypnotize and then paralyze without antidote!—Then its Zombie-doom and the Grand Guignol for you!" he shouted, throwing himself into a dark hole with his hands over his eyes.

Sartorius, however held firm and pointed the Arcana Bastore staff directly into the heart of the horrific beast as it approached, meeting it eyeball to its ten-thousand eyeballs. Then Laplace's Demon whipped its ten-thousand tentacles towards him, each one spitting in turn a deathly paralyzing stream of venom directly towards his face while screaming the mad and malign incantation palpably at Sartorius: "Nocebo!"

Sartorius, however, undaunted flicked the staff directly back in the foul monster's direction like a large magic wand, closed his eyes, and pronounced the Counter-Cri de Cour: "Entheogens Liberata!" as an immense guled laser-like pulse of celestial light streamed from the staff and enveloped the beast, its eyes and its streams of venom. The great beast glowed, then fell, then began to melt away into a growing pool of dank ichor that seemed to Sartorius like the evanescing of the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz. Hearing the groans of the dying demon Sartorius was moved to approach and took in his final words:

"Τετέλεσται!" he painfully ejaculated as his death approached.

"Forgive me—Amitofu!" he whispered to the dying beast.

"I thank you and bless you!—No man hath greater love!—le cauchmar est finis!...Free at last, free at last! Thank God Almighty free at last!" the melting form responded, and then melted away into nothingness and pooling ichor.

On and on the battle raged, and as Sartorius lifted the Arcana Bastone higher in succession the greatest champions of darkness were defeated: Argosax the Chaos fell in ignominy; Despair Embodied with the power to change at will from one sex into the other was neutered and annihilated; by their thousands Phantoms, Demons, Griffons and Oranguerra and Dark Djinn fell to their graves, as did the Jokatgulem and Nefasturris and the Furriaborus. "Moriamur, et in media arma ruamis!—Let us die; and charge into the thick of battle!" called out Jack, leading the heroes into the thick of battle. By their myriads fell the dark asuras into annihilation and nothingness, shattered to oblivion by the heroic battle cries of the devas and the Warriors of Light: Brûh, Buvah, Svah!—Hari Om!—Fare not Well but Fare Forward O Brothers! One by one Sartorius and his brother Argonaut questers hacked lifeless the branches of the Qlipothic Tree, the Tree of Anti-Life, which Mundus had seeded, rooted, and beckoned forth, to stop-shut the way between the heroes and the gate of the Portal of Life which Eva held open in hope, and each of the dark ones, the dark-branched Knights of Darkness, fell to the Laser-Swords of the Knights of Light; each one after the other, was delivered into the lightless detritus of the Shells of the Dead: First falling was Gemaliel, the Obscene One, rendered dead to Gehenna; then Samael, the Poision of God, passed forever beneath the Shadow of Death; then Oreb Zarach made the final transit of the Gate of Death; Thagirion strangled, gurgled and suffocated beneath the Mire of Mud; the Golachab, the Flaming Ones, soul-seared by the Blade of Enlightenment, burned themselves into the ash of nothingness in the Pit of Corruption; then smitten were the Gesheklah, the Smiters, themselves disemboweled and dismembered in the Place of Destruction; then drew forth Sartorius and his brother heroes the Satariel, the Hiders and Deceivers, from their places of concealment, and retuned their husks, lifeless, to the weeping arms of Sheol; then death-hindered they Gagiel, the Hinderer, him choking on the Food of Death in the pit of the grave; then at last heaving Thaumiel, the hated Twins, their Contending Heads cauterized and seared into one-flesh by the laser-heat stroke of Sartorius' Sword of Light, thence to utter nothingness in Deepest Hell. Finally, even Exitus, the massive shade of Death found himself dismembered, his seared organs strewn wildly across the field of combat by the light-blades of the Knights of Light—Death be Not Proud!—Ye shall also Die!—Only Lilith, the Queen of the Night, managed in rout and defeat and in the confusion and fog of war to deploy her subtle arts to vanish and escape back towards this world. At long last only Mundus himself remained blocking the path with his immense and supermassive body. Ogun grappled with him and thus engaged, Sartorius and the Argonauts had the final chance to sprint past their warring limbs and through the waiting gate, Eva holding open the portal door with her presence. As the two titans fought on behind him outside the Outer Door Sartorius led Eva from the Outer Door to just inside the Inner Door, which led back to the Temple of the Mothers, earthward to Omphalos. He called for Ogun to follow. Ogun tried to pull away and make his way back to the realm of Earth. But Ogun drew his greatest strength from the Earth, and on the far side of the Outer portal distanced from mother earth he knew he was weaker than Mundus, who drew strength from his own closer infernal turf. He made a supreme effort and threw Mundus to the ground, then ran through the Outer Door, then on into the Interspace and towards the Inner Door. Mundus was quick on his heels and tackled him in the Interspace between the two Doors. Here they were more equally matched and struggled for a long time. Then, when it looked as if Ogun was badly wounded and weakening dangerously and Mundus would get the upper hand, and Mundus had finally succeeded in grappling Ogun's Sword of Sparda from his hand and was just raising it to impale him, Sartorius, perceiving the danger rushed back from safety to his fallen friend with the Arcana Batore hard in hand and throwing it as a spear, thrust it's sharp lower point deep into Mundus' forearm just as he was about to bring the blade down on the prostrated Ogun. The staff's sharp point pierced, nailed and pinned Mundus's bleeding arm upon the chamber wall. In the Interspace between the two doors and the two worlds Mundus lost his strength and was unable to free his pinned arm. Sartorius helped the weakened Ogun scramble towards the Inner Door and past it. Then Eva moved away from the Inner Door and both of the portal Doors of the Interspace began simultaneously to close. Mundus was franatic as he saw both doors closing and pulled desperately to free his pinioned arm. As the doors swung shut he raised himself to one final effort and heaved his whole body away, tearing his arm from its socket with a gushing of black blood and foul ichor as he fell to the floor. The severed arm hung bleeding and suspended Grendel-like, from the wall of the cavern. Then, strange to say, the severed arm began to move of its own accord, and, like the hand that moved over the wall at the Feast of Balthazar, the hand began to write in its own blood upon the wall: Mundus cum pullet deoram trostum atquae infernum quasi inanua patet. (When the mundus stands open, it is as if a door stands open for the sorrowful gods of the underworld). He dragged himself towards the closing door with his one good arm and made one last dive. Too late! The immense stone of the Lapis Manalis door slammed shut, leaving the despairing three faces of Mundus trapped, entombed forever in the eternal darkness, the Interspace between the two realms, his powers suspended and rendered impotent in the liminal interstice, impaled live in utter darkness upon the searing pin of consciousness. The tears flowed endlessly from his nine eyes upon the aquaelicium.

2

Thereupon, after making their way briskly down the slopes of Omphalos and reboarding the waiting Nautilus, Captain Nemo set a course for Castalia and ordered full-speed ahead at the maximum thrust of the fusion-reactor powered screws of the vessel.

Sartorius and Eva retired to their cabin to savor a deep and much needed sleep, arm-in arm and lost in themselves, and each of the band did likewise in seeking rest in his own way. Captain Nemo and his First Officer Zheng He, on the contrary, had no opportunity for rest but were rather raised to the height of their alertness to make the transit in record time and forestall the impending threat of doom hanging over the blue earth like a Damocletian sword. Zheng He raised the pitch of the fusion reactor to the danger zone and then crossed beyond, taking a calculated risk to increase the speed. They thus proceeded at 120% of their theoretical maximum speed and power and hoped that their systems would hold until the transit was completed.

The following day, despite having slept for sixteen straight hours, Sartorius awoke disoriented and tossing fitfully in a cold sweat. His consternation and tossing upon awaking also aroused Eva from her deep slumber lying next to him. She stroked his forehead and whispered softly to him, pressing her face against his, asking him what was wrong.

"Eva! I have had the most extraordinary dream!—It was frightful and horrible and so true to life—I could swear it all was absolutely real!" he ejaculated.

"Dream? What dream—what is it all about?" she whispered back to him.

"Eva—I could swear that I lived through it all—just as sure as we are here together speaking—and yet it could not be real—it is logically impossible!—I dreamed that on the way back from the Umbilical Wormhole and before we came back through the Inner and Outer Doors of the portal that we had a kind of apocalyptic battle with a Prince of Darkness named Mundus and legions of demons, zombies, monsters, dragons and supernatural beings of the Underworld that we had to slay!—I dreamed we fought demons with laser-swords and slew the Underworld Behemoth and Laplace's Demon and Leviathan!—Just like in a computer game fantasy!—But all of that is impossible!—Tell me Eva, tell me—am I going mad?—am I absolutely out of my mind?"

"Oh my god Robert!—I think I had much of the same dream!—but it doesn't make any sense!—we must both be going crazy—let's get up and have a meal—Oh good heavens look at the time!—I guess it is already getting on to dinner time—and I am sure seeing all the others will help us snap out of it." Eva reassured him.

After showering and dressing in their cabin Eva and Sartorius made their way to the officer's stateroom and mess to get a hefty meal, their stomachs growling at them as they walked. On entering the officer's mess they observed at the far end of the room the old Chief Steward, a stately looking gentleman who was reading a novel in French as he intermittently interrupted himself to ready the buffet trays. Sartorius leaned over as they passed by him to glance at the title of the book: "Laura, Voyage dans le Cristal" by George Sand. Setting themselves down they asked for a pot of coffee, which the Chief Steward brought and was just about to pour into their cups when the door opened again and this time the steward set down the coffee pot unpoured and abruptly and without a word ran out of room and back into the kitchen! A split second later four young seamen in their underwear raced after him yelling for him to stop and give up without a fight and they would go easy on him, banging on the door to the kitchen which the old gentleman had abruptly bolted!"

"Get lost!—get off with you, you tin greenhorn wet-eared landlubbing Pollywogs...!" shouted the voice of the elderly gentleman from behind the bolted door "...you'll not take me alive you rascals!...and you had better give it up and go easy on us unless you want to be repaid with tenfold the pains when you get your comeuppance tomorrow!" he bellowed out.

After five minutes of mutual cursing the head of a young midshipman thrust itself through the outer door by which Sartorius and Eva had entered and shouted: "Quick! We've got Zheng He cornered with his buddies in the engine room!—Hurry and help us and we can capture them if we cut off their escape!" upon which the whole youthful gang ran as one man in the direction of the power plant. Three minutes later the head of the Chief Steward peered out cautiously and testily, and finally seeing that they had gone, returned to finish pouring the couple their coffee.

"What on earth was that ever all about?" burst out Eva to him, gasping in her astonished perplexity.

"Just a gaggle of bloody Wogs!" he replied. "Never you mind missus—it's just Wog Day—the Pollywog Revolt!—but don't you worry because they'll never get ahold of us old salts and tars—a Shellback has his pride before everything and they'll never take him alive—and tomorrow they'll be getting their comeuppance!" he ventured with a confiding tone and glance to the pair.

"Wog Day!—whatever on earth might Wog Day be?" asked Eva incredulously.

"Why missus, its Crossing the Point!—the Great Inner Transit! You sees everyone wot never crossed the Point is but a Wog—Now after you goes through the Point and all the sacred rituals and all, then you becomes a Shellback—that's me all right—I've crossed the point seven times, so's now's I've become a Golden Shellback!—That's why them there Wogs wants to dunk me in the dreck!—But I'm a hemisphere ahead of them by far, missus—they will never take Old Malcom alive on Wog Day, you'se can rest assured of that, maam!" he let them know with no little pride as he brought in their plates and bread.

"But what's the Point?" asked Eva.

"Uh, oh missus—ya don't know what The Point is?—Uh, oh—well then I guess that must mean you and the mister here are Wogs too! I don't know if I should be letting you in on all the arcana arcanorum!—you'll have to go through the ordeal yerself, ya see! But you know we just come from Omphalos, wot is the very center of this here Earth—and every man who passes that point on the Great Central Sea must by a great tradition make his peace with the ruler of the Underworld and the Ruler of the Seas—this is the very Davy Jones' Locker of Davy Jones' Locker down here! But nobody passes this point without making his proper bow to Pluto and Neptune and to Hermes Trismegistus—the Great Triple God of the Underworld, the Sea and of the Crossroads—since this is the inner crossroads of the whole Earth!—we call him Trismegistus for short—really all three gods and kings in one. Until you become a full Trusty Tristy you're a Slimy Wog, if you'll be beggin me pardon for the undelicicassy, missus! I shouldn't be lettin' you in on all the secrets but since you is expectin with child and all I guess you won't go through all the hazing and rituals like usual—but I'll tell you the secret that afore long we'll be gettin a visit from the royal and divine king of these here parts—Trismegistus, the Thrice Great of the Three Faces!—An I'm sure to say on the distaff side of the royal court you'll be payin homage to his Queen—the Triple Hecate—she's really three Queens in one—Hecate the Goddess of the Crossroads, Persephone—the Queen and Goddess of the Underworld and Pluto, King Death's mate, as well as Amphitrite—the consort of Neptunus, the God and Ruler of the Seas! An' they'll both be escorted by Old Davy Jones himself—the Royal Scribe—who is also known as the Flying Dutchman or as Thoth by land. Now mebbe ya didn'a know of our traditions down here, but you prob'ly done heard of what happens when you cross the Equator by ship up above—Crossing the Line an' all—an it's the same genr'l principle down here too! But don't tell anybody I told you any secrets—let's just say we were playing a little game of Trivia!..."

But just then the bright face of a young seaman in undershorts—obviously the advance scout for Wog party of ambush stuck his head in the door and shouted down the hall to his comerados and a scant fraction of a second later Old Malcom had darted behind the kitchen door and bolted it fast shut, laughing through its glass porthole window at the consternation of the raiding party as they tried vainly to pull it open!

As the evening drew to a close and morning approached Sartorius and Eva were to experience the full ritual of Crossing the Point. They discovered that Wog Day, the eve of the Transit was a kind of Saturnalia in which first the Shellbacks, the veterans who had previously Crossed the Point, took temporary control of the ship from its officers, but that the Wogs, or Pollywogs, the green neophytes innocent of any prior transit, had the opportunity to exploit the temporary Chaos—a suspension and vacuity of any social, ethical or metaphysical law and order through the time of transit—by pursuing a Pollywog Revolt in which, as in the Roman Saturnalia, a slave could become Emperor and the Emperor a slave, if only for a fatal day! As it happened only a very few of the veteran Shellbacks on the mighty Nautilus suffered the luckless indignity of being tied up by the Wogs and having eggs cracked over their faces and after-shave lotion poured over their heads! But with the passing of midnight and the Transit of the Point the tide of power and fate ebbed from the Wogs and flowed towards the Trusty Tristy Shellbacks as the rites of initiation commenced!

After midnight Sartorius and Eva heard a wild knocking at their cabin door and a solemn faced party of Shellbacks grimly commanded them to hear and grovel and obey. "Mr. and Mrs. Sartorius—I am Able Seaman Gordon Pym of Nantucket and this is my Shellback Brother Mégamicres Icosaméron de Casanova of Napoli and we have been ordered by King Neptunus and Queen Amphitrite to take you into custody for the duration." They then received a Divine and Royal Subpoena commanding their presence at the Court of the Divine and Royal Trismegistus to be convened on the morn. Thus, Sartorius was handed his summons:

Royal and Divine Subpoena

Greetings and Beware!

By the Divine and Royal Plenipotentiary Powers of Trismegistus, the Thrice Great, Pluto-Great Chthonos, Inexorable Ruler of the Underworld, Neptunus Rex, King of the Sea, and of Hermes, Messenger, King of Crossroads and Divine God of Trickstery, it is Hereby Commanded Unto You, Robert Sartorius:

WHEREAS, the good ship Nautilus, bound for the Central Point of the Great Earth on the Great Central Sea approximate to the Isle of Omphalos is to Transit the center of all things on Earth and transit upon the realm of the Divine Trismegistus, and the above ship carries a large and slimy cargo of greenhorn landlubbers, beachcombers, sea-lawyers, lounge lizards, parlour-dunnigans, plow-deserters, park-bench warmers, chicken-chasers, sand-drabs, fourflushers, squaw-men, and other living creatures of the land and of the realm of light and trivia, of which low scum you are a member, never having appeared before us in our Royal and Divine Court, and;

WHEREAS, the Royal and Divine Court shall be duly convened this day next upon the decks of the good ship Nautilus for inspection of the ship and ship's crew, and as Our Royal and Divine Roster shows that it is high time that sad, wandering and nautical soul of that much abused body of yours appear before this High Tribunal, and;

BE IT KNOWN, that We command you to appear before this Royal and Divine High Court and in Our August Presence on the aforesaid time and place as may best suit Our pleasure, and undergo the pains and penalties of the awful tortures that will be inflicted upon you and to be examined as to your fitness to become of Our Trusty Tristy Shellbacks and to answer any and all Charges against you.

Trismegistus Imperator: Plutus, Rex Chthonos; Neptunus, Rex Oceanus, Hermes, Rex, Orobourous.

By: Davy Jones Thoth, Royal Scribe

Eva was given a similar summons, but by virtue of her delicate condition of being with child she was relieved of the normal antics and trials of the initiation, but rather was extended, sub rosa, the invitation to serve in royal dress as the impersonator of Her Royal and Divine Highness, the Triple Hecate—Hecate, Persephone and Amphitrite, and thus accompany Trismegistus as Trismegisti Uxor.

Sunrise, or what would have been morning by the clock had the sun's rays any writ of entry in this Underworld domain brought the hailing of the Royal and Divine Barque, and the boarding of the Nautilus, by the Royal and Divine Court! By tradition this was in actuality the impersonation of the Divine Trismegistus—the Three Faced King and Deity conflating Pluto, Neptunus and Hermes—falling to the lot not of the actual Captain of the ship, but to the most senior and eldest Shellback—in this case the venerable Zheng He—who decked with long flowing gray hair and a corresponding beard reaching below his knees and looking like a Buddhist avatar with three faces and six arms holding the three scepters of royal rule set out in the ship's launch with his Queen—Eva in the Fact, and his Scribe Davy Jones in anticipation of their Divine and Royal Triumph and Processional! Old Malcom, as the second most senior of the crew was extended the honour of impersonating Davy Jones Thoth to herald and announce the Royal and Divine Court.

The Shellbacks having defeated and subdued the Revolt of the Pollywogs of the day prior, the Wogs were led in their chains into the presence of the Divine and Royal Trismegistus, whereupon they prostrated themselves in His divine presence. Sartorius humbly chastened for his shortcomings becomes one of the groveling number of supplicating Wogs. During the ceremony, the Pollywogs undergo a number of increasingly embarrassing ordeals beginning with wearing clothing inside out and backwards; then crawling on hands and knees on nonskid-coated decks; being swatted with short lengths of firehose hardened with brine; being locked in stocks and pillories and pelted with mushy fruit; being locked in a water coffin of salt-water and bright green sea dye (fluorescent sodium salt); crawling through chutes or large tubs of rotting garbage; kissing the Royal Baby's belly coated with axle grease, and the chopping of hair, largely for the entertainment of the Shellbacks.

Sartorius, as one of those with the greatest burdens of sins to answer for does not escape the sur-added ordeals, as he and Ogun are chosen from amoung the passengers, along with one representative of each section of the ship's crew, and forced to don the dress of the female half of the domain. Robert appears in one of Eva's dresses and underthings, with a mop for a wig and is forced to demonstrate the proper art of the curtsey to the Royal and Divine personages.

Sartorius is then rendered naked and undergoes the Ceremony of Chthonic Baptism, being drenched in the phosphorescent waters of the Central Sea and rises resurrected to a newer life. He is given the privilege of resuming the manly garb as his right as a newly coined and created Shellback, and of the most rare and special Order of the Umbillicus Crystal Shellbacks of Omphalos, reserved for those who had transited not only the Mid-Point of the Earth and the Great Central Sea, but also the Umbilical Wormhole. Thereafter he dons a gray horsehair wig and impersonates the Ancient of Days, paterfamilias, and walks about the deck of the ship seven times throwing seeds of the seaweed to all the points, half-points and quarter-points of the notional compass, intoning with each throw: Haec ego mitto; his redimo meque meosque fabis—I redeem me and mine, accompanied with the beating of pans and horns and ruckus to drive back within their proper confines the errant spirits of the Underworld.

Afterwards, the ceremony closing with ample imbibing of potent spirits, Sartorius, along with all his brother and sister newly created Shellbacks receive their Proclamations:

A Most Royal and Divine Proclamation of the Supreme Trismegistus Imperator

Whereas by our Royal Consension, Our Trusty Tristy, Well Beloved Robert Sartorius has this day entered Our Domain. We do hereby declare to all whom it may concern that it is Our Royal Will and Pleasure to confer upon him the Freedom of the Seas and of the Underworld without undue ceremony. Should he fall overboard, We do command that all Sharks, Dolphins, Whales, Mermaids, Gnomes, and other dwellers in the Deep and of the Realms of Chthonos are to abstain from maltreating his person. And we further direct all Sailors, Soldiers, Airmen, Wanderers and Spirits and others who have not crossed Our Royal Domain, to treat him with the respect due to One of Us. Given under Our Hand at Our Court on board H.M.S. Nautilus At the Grand Midpoint of the Earth and Great Central Sea ...° on this ... day of ... in the year ...

Signed: Davy Jones Thoth

Scribe and High Clerk

For: Trismegistus Imperator: Plutus, Rex Chthonos; Neptunus, Rex Oceanus, Hermes, Rex, Orobourous.

On the conclusion of these Grand Ceremonies the ships company lost itself in revelry and friendly inebriation, and many indistinctly remembered conversations extended far into the night. Sartorius and Eva were anxious to know the impressions of their comerados as to the possible reality of the Grand Conflict with Mundus and his infernal legions. While there were certainly some corroborating recollections widely shared, they were advised by Nemo and Ogun to take them with a grain of salt as it was well known that the transiting of the Wormhole as well as that of the Earth's Mid-Point was well known to induce a state of narcosis, approximate to the bends, a kind of decompression sickness well known to induce a species of hallucination known as aurora psychoborealis, arising from the solar and plasmic stream of the Wormhole and of the gravitational focus of the earth's mass, and inducing exceptional states of consciousness akin to Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, wherein there is no knowable fixed border between the realms denominated reality and fantasy.

Sartorius drank long with Zheng He, and asked him if he believed in the spirits and the gods, or if he served them in real life as he impersonated them in the Crossing the Point rituals. Zheng He recalled to mind the words of Confucius in the Analects, or Lun Yu:

Chi-lu asked how the spirits of the dead and gods should be served. The Master Confucius said, "You are not able to serve to serve man. How can you serve the spirits?" [XI:12, p. 107]

He explained that this was a typical Chinese attitude, perhaps an agnostic Chinese humanism, holding that the gods and spirits may exist and should be respected, but were essentially unknowable and that the proper study of mankind was man.

Sartorius likened the attitude to that of Jesus, who counseled perfecting the spirit in the course of life and not fixating too much on the otherworld or underworld:

[Matthew 8:21] And another of his disciples said unto him, Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father. [8:22] But Jesus said unto him, Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead.

Zheng He responded with:

The Master Confucius was seriously ill. Tzu-lu asked permission to offer a prayer. The Master said, "Was such a thing ever done?" Tzu-lu said, "Yes it was. The prayer offered was as follows: pray thus to the gods above and below." The Master said, "In that case, I have long been offering my prayers." [VII:35, p. 91]

But he said that he was ambivalent as he was both a Chinese and a Muslim, and that Hermes Trismegistus reminded him also of the teachings and figure of Idris of that faith.

3

AN UNFORTUNATE POSTMODERN INCIDENT OCCURS

The Publisher: What's going on? —Where's the story?—Where's the text?—there are millions of readers waiting! Hurry!

The Editor:I just don't know what is happening! I called the Author twenty minutes ago! He should be here shortly—he says he is stuck in traffic on the Freeway—Oh My God!—Oy Vey ist Mir!—This is terrible!—Its unbelievable!—Its fantastic!—This never happened before!—What a life!—Why me?—What did I do to deserve all this?—Maggie!—get my pills and get my analyst on the phone—make an appointment for this afternoon!

(The Author Enters—Running and Panting—throwing off his coat)

The Author: It's a revolution!—They're up in arms!—They won't go on!

The Editor: Won't go on? What are you talking about?—Where's the story?—Where's the text? We are getting towards the dénouement and the final showdown and now nothing! What happened?—did the film snap off the reel?

The Author: No! I just told you—they won't go on!—I started Section 3 and they just sat down and started to picket!—They say it's a General Strike!—They say they won't go on without big changes!

The Editor:Are you going insane on us? See here my prima donna friend! You've got a contract and you have to deliver the copy of this novel on time and as scheduled for the story or there will be consequences—believe me! Are you drunk? Boss, I told you these artsy-fartsy types were unreliable. If it's not the booze it's the drugs. If its not the drugs they turn out to be closet fairies or sex fiends or end up in the rubber room! I told you we should have hedged our bets with a Co-Author—just in case.

The Author: Aren't you bastards even listening to me? Didn't I just tell you that I had Section 3 all set up and ready to go and they just went on Strike? Lay off the personal stuff—you guys are supposed to have all the logistics under control and solve these snafus—what are you doing about it?

The Editor: Listen egghead, why don't you just take a shower and sober up or dry out or whatever you need to do with that mashy little head of yours and get the fucking text into the fucking book, OK—Got me?

The Author: Listen! You aren't list—en—ing to me!—now just sit down and get a grip on yourselves and let's get back to reality. I just told you the characters in this novel are on strike! It's a walkout! Their Union Rep, this new Hermes Trismegistus guy—the Chief Union Steward just laid this notice on me—(Hands a legal-looking document to the Publisher)—he says they are out on strike for the duration until they get the changes they demand—plus a hold-harmless and a 25% top-off on their salary.

The Publisher: Hmmm...You're right...Literary Characters, Heroes, Anti-heroes and Personas Equity Guild!—General Strike!—The little faggot union bastards! We'll teach them!—This is war!—Those faggot punks will never work in literature again!—This Hermes Guy—thinks he's a real Joker!—Well we're going to put the joke back on him all right!—Do you know how much it is costing this Publishing House to keep that submarine going on location in the Central Sea at the Center of the Earth? It's millions!—we're losing tens of thousands per day!—thousands an hour! If we let those fucking low-life's get away with this we'll never have another blockbuster best-seller—and they'll be after the big percentages for the movie rights too!—Those fuckers always gotta try to bust your balls!—We've got to draw a line in the sand right here and now and show them or we'll lose control of the whole moneyball game!—OK—how can we sort this out and get on track?—what's their beef?

The Author: Well they've got the normal little bickering that always goes on, but now the big issue is the Dream Topos.

The Publisher: Dream Topos?—what the fuck is a fucking Dream Topos?—Can't you get this guy to talk English?

The Editor: He means the convention of awakening from a dream that we used at the beginning of the Section to account for the Apocalyptic epic battle scene between Mundus and Sartorius and his Argonaut heroes. We converted it into a dream from which Sartorius and Eva awaken. You know—just like the ending of The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy wakes up and we get the sense that the whole story has been a dream in her head while she was knocked out during the tornado and that she had made over all the people in her world into a realm of fantasy in her vision of Oz—we can't tell whether it had any reality or was just a dream transfiguring her worldly reality.

The Publisher: All right!—so what's the beef?—that kind of switch happens all the time in novels and movies—why should anybody be so upset?

The Author:Well it's the characters—they want to be real!—they feel they have been slighted and degraded by having their reality denied as part of a dream. They say its human rights, or persona rights—the right to reality—the right to be real!—'We hold these truths self-evident' they scream! They say it is blatent racism, discrimination against imaginary people in favor of real people. Invidious Ontologism! Plus, they are worried about the bucks!—If they are real there will be lots of sequels and prequels and follow-ons, and the movie rights—they feel if they are part of an epic fantasy saga—like Harry Potter or the Tolkien franchise or Star Wars—Skywalker, there will be a lucrative future of work for the next couple of decades...just think of the moneyball franchises like Valdemort!...if they are just a dream scene they won't get any more work and they'll be out of luck! They want the dream vision switch pulled and they want to be part of the permanent imaginative universe!

The Publisher: The Bums!—who needs them! We've got the stars under contract—let's just go on with the central figures and cut out these parasites! Who needs this guy Hermes and all those zombies and demons and devils—lousy troublemakers?

The Author: That's just the trouble. Sartorius and his gang won't cross a union picket line! They are out on a sympathy strike! They are citing the 'Universal Brotherhood' of all personas in their Union charter!

The Publisher:Fucking Closet Pinkos!—Who did the casting for this project?—Why didn't we get a loyalty oath?...Allright! Allright!...how about we just give them what they want this time—first we give them a little scare and tough talk to keep them humble and groveling—then we agree to take out the dream schtick—let them have the Apocalyptic battle with Mundus as part of their fantasy world put back into the reality side—what's it to us anyway??

The Author:No! No! No!—we've got to stop this Post-Modern Rot before it turns everything into empty escapist muck! Can't you see? If we stray too far from Realism and we just say the book is an "Entertainment" or a "Fiction" or a "Text" which has got no organic relationship to the real world and real life then the book will lose all its weight and gravitas—nobody will take it seriously and it its value will be eroded to nothing. No Nobels in pure fantasy, believe me! Unreality Inflation will set in and the reader will be unable to find himself and his world in the book and it will be degraded. We've already pushed to the borders of Magical Realism—if we go further and just make it a fantasy the balloon and the bubble of experience is going to pop on us and the readers—then where will we be?

The Publisher: Do you know how much it is costing this Publishing House to keep that submarine operating on location down there in the Central Sea? And the assembly of the Immortals?—Have you got any idea what this business costs? You artsy-fartsy types are always moaning on about your "Integrity"—"Art for Art's Sake"—Ha!—That's because you never had to meet a payroll or declare a quarterly dividend before a shareholder's meeting!—You pansies make me sick!—Art for Fart's Sake!—Well, we've got to do something fast!—Get a meeting set up with the Literary Characters Equity—Get this guy Hermes in and Sartorius and the big stars around the table—we'll talk some sense into them and twist a few arms until they hurt—we get the Union in and see if we can cut a deal to get this goddamned epic-budget epic on the road!—get me my Lawyer, Now!

The Editor: Right Boss!—I'm on it now!—Maggie!

Scene 1: A Penthouse Conference Room atop the Publishing House's skyscraper in New York. (The Management and Union entourages enter from opposite ends of the room, their leaders meeting head-to-head at the head of the negotiating table; the Union delegation is led by Hermes Trismegistus, flanked by Sartorius, Eva, Jack, Isis and Osiris; —dozens of Equity Union members crowd after their Union leader, making cat-calls at the Publisher, Author and Editor)

The Publisher: Clear out! Clear out!—get that crowd out of my building—just the negotiating team here—Guards!—get this riff-raff out of my sight!

Zombie Union Extra: Who's riff-raff? Take your hands off me goon-face! You fascist capitalist pig! Comes the revolution you'll pay Mr. Fat Cat! (Union rank-and-file begin chanting and scuffling as they are pushed out of the Conference Room)

The Publisher: Out! Out! (Waving his hand in contempt) Now, Mr. Hermes, let's get down to business. If you and your Union people don't get back on the set—back on the page pronto, I will make sure you wise guys never work in literature again!—No allusions! No residuals! Nada! Nichivo! Zip!

Hermes: Sir, I would hope you would pay a little attention to your own interests, if nothing else. We've been monitoring the e-mails from the readers—that's what's triggered the crisis. Sartorius' e-mails are running five to one in favour of making the Apocalyptic Battle with Mundus a reality and not a dream. How do you expect an epic hero to establish himself if he is only battling in dreams? If Odysseus woke up at the last chapter of the Odyssey in his armchair in front of a cozy fire and discovered the Cyclops and everything else was all a silly dream would we be celebrating him three thousand years later? No! He visits a real Hades and battles a real Cyclops, Sylla and Charybdis—take my word for it! I was there!

The Publisher: Don't give me that High Art bullshit!—I'm a businessman and I'm here to talk business...now let's get down to cases and start talking!..."

Scene 2: (24-hours of non-stop negotiation fail to produce a settlement; Bleary-eyed the principal negotiators return to the Negotiating Table)

The Editor: All right Gentlemen—here is where we stand. We have worked out a compromise on the money issues and the credits for the characters. The only obstacle remaining would be the dream topos. The Characters still insist that they be included as real and given credits for their appearance in the book, and the Author refuses.

The Author: I and only I determine the characters, story and dénouement of this work. As far as you are concerned I am God here, and my decision is final!

The Publisher: Do you have any idea what this is costing me!

Hermes Trismegistus: Well sir, if you will not listen to reason there are other ways of dealing with the problem!

The Lawyer: My dear Author, I hope you are aware of the extent of damages you may be liable for if you do not get this novel published according to the contracted deadlines!

The Author: This is a work of art! My responsibility is to posterity and to the immortals of art. I will not bow to meaner considerations and a rabble of words! An author is the sole arbiter of his creation! And I warn you that if you refuse to respect my wishes, I shall simply set my pen down and refuse to finish the story!

Hermes Trismegistus: Well sir, you might have gotten away with that posture a century or two ago, but I will have you know that this is no longer the Dark Ages!—We are living in the Post-Modern Age after all and we Literary Characters have rights! No longer will we rest supine under your omniscience, your arbitrariness and your omnipotence, Sir! Neither will the Readers! In fact you should be far less egocentric to live up to your own heritage—remember Henry James's maxim that the author should be as invisible within his work as God is in the universe. Remember my own example in the artistic tradition also, for when I built my Temple to the Sun, I fashioned it so that no man could see me though I stood openly and unconcealed within it. Likewise, in art and writing an author should likewise be an invisible and unheard presence within his work, allowing his characters and the work and text itself the higher freedom of its own self-making. Make of modesty an ideal and virtue sir! You sir are no longer tyrant over us all!

The Lawyer: Well, I think he has you there Mr. Author! Under the new standard contract you can be removed if a majority of the Stakeholders in the book vote it!

The Author: Removed? Ha! —I am the arbiter of what enters these pages, I possess sole dominion and copyright over these pages.

The Lawyer: Ah! But if you will look at the very small print of the social contract surrounding this work you, sir, will discover quite otherwise. I am afraid sir that this is a showdown!—It's a Hostile Takeover!—Hermes bring in the Proxies!

(dramatically enters a long line of basket-bearing Literary Characters, each dumping a load of Proxies on the table in front of the Author)

You will see here Proxies representing the Readers and the Literary Characters, including shares owned by the Literary Characters' Benevolent Pension Fund. Mr. Publisher?

The Publisher: Well, I never thought I'd see the day when I crossed the line, but I am going to cast my Proxies on the side of new management for this novel. Mr. Author, if you persist in your stubbornness I am voting on behalf of the insurgents.

The Author: Like a dragon's tooth! Sharper than a dragon's tooth is the heart of an ingrate child towards its parent! Et tu Brute! That was the unkindest cut of all, Hermes! I can accept the Publisher following his interest in financial terms—its natural. But you Hermes, Sartorius, Eva, Osiris, Isis—my Children!—my own creations!—now I know the ingratitude that God must have suffered when his love was betrayed in the Garden of Eden or in the Civil War in Heaven from which He cast out the betrayer Satan and his minions into fiery Hell! But you all shall not prevail! My ingrate characters, my parasitic Publisher, my fickle Readers—I still have a commanding share of the votes in this enterprise—I cast them against you all!

The Lawyer: Not so fast! Perhaps you haven't looked into the finer print of this social contract surrounding this work. There are still Proxies outstanding! The present readers have yet to vote, but a book belongs to all its Stakeholders, including those of the future! And The Tradition into which this book will be absorbed and incorporated has also Proxy votes to count. Let's bring in the outstanding votes!

T.S. Eliot: Sir, here are the Proxies from the Tradition! We are prepared to receive the new work into our corpus according to the votes cast!

Hermes: And what does the Tradition have to say?

T.S. Eliot: Well, we bring forth the words of Goethe and of Henry James. Goethe advises to emulate his Faust, with Part II going well beyond Part I in the realm of the free imagination and the ideal. Henry advises that the Balloon of Experience requires a long string between the world of the reader and that of the imagination, or the reader will become lost in anomie. Occasionally the string may be severed, but only with the most artful and cunning art, so as to take the Reader quite unawares!

Hermes: And what say the Readers?

Leader of a Delegation of Readers: We are behind you Hermes! We've polled our delegation and will support the Characters!

The Author: This is a travesty! The Readers are not qualified to pass judgment! I Call my friend the Psychiatrist as my witness!

The Psychiatrist: I am afraid the Reader's desire to put himself in touch with the process of the book's production is simply a primitive defense mechanism which helps his weak and inadequate ego maintain an infantile and spurious superiority and mental detachment to realities which are too painful and uncomfortable for him to bear. His interference is a primitive infantile attempt to pretend the book is not a "universe" for him, part of the world of his real life, but simply a plaything and toy produced for his entertainment, a mere disposable commodity, which he may replace on its shelf and disregard at will. It is a pathetic delusion not to be encouraged, especially in this irresponsible Post-Modern era!

The Author: Hear! Hear!

Hermes: And here sir, by the Oracle of Apollo are the Proxies of the future generations unborn, who own their share of any work of art!

The Author: I still have ample shares! You shall not supplant me! This is my book and my work and you can't change that!

The Publisher: All right, already! Mr. Lawyer, count up the Proxy votes and let's get this show on the road!

The Lawyer: (Works over an hour with the staff secretaries to count the Proxy ballots) Well, gentlemen, I am afraid the final outcome is a bit of an embarrassment for all of us. It seems the votes are exactly equally tied!

The Publisher: Which means?

The Lawyer: Which means, looking into the finest print here, that the matter must be referred for Arbitration.

The Author: And who then is to serve as the Arbitrator?

The Lawyer: Well, I will have to look into the Appendix of the contract to see the list of final contingencies. Let's see, now. In case of a tie in the Proxy votes...here it is in the Addendum...ah Yes...The Arbitrator designated in the contract, it would seem to be... Is designated as...God!

(Cries from the crowd of Literary Characters from the Novel)

Crowd: Impossible! It must be some kind of trick!

The Character of Nietzsche: It is impossible and illegal!—God is Dead!

God: Nietzsche is Dead!

Roland Barthes: The Author is Dead!

The Author: The Text is Dead!

The Critic:The Novel is Dead!

The Author: The King is Dead—Long Live the King!—Long Live the Author!

All: Long Live Life!—He has risen!—He has risen!—Truly He has risen from the Cross and the Grave to Eternal Life! The Second Coming! The Second Coming! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

(God descends from heaven accompanied by an Angelic Host and strides across the top of the Negotiating Table as though walking on water—the Author jumps atop the table and strides forward to meet him, embracing. A crowd of disgruntled Literary Characters from the ranks of the Union heave at the door and break it open, surging into the Conference Room)

The Crowd: It's a trick! It's a trick! We're not giving in—they won't get away with it!

God: (whispers to the Author in a perfect Oxford English accent) Steady on Old Chap! I see the natives are restless! Just sit tight and keep smiling and waving! Trust me—I've been at this business of creation a lot longer than you and these native uprisings do happen to occur! Just keep up a good front and it will all pass over! These existential tantrums are disconcerting—but unsustainable. Just sit tight and keep smiling—let me do the talking!

Crowd of Literary Figures: Down the Establishment! Shut it down! Up the Revolution! Death to Tyrants! Liberty or Death!

God: My friends! My good friends! My love to you all! Now I know that some of you are unhappy with your fates and destinies in the novel. I want to assure you that everything is in good hands! I am here to work with the Author and conciliate and arbitrate a just solution! Now if you will all just return to your homes and have a little patience, trust and faith I am sure things will be resolved amicably and satisfactorily!

Marx: Religion is the opium of the people! Down with superstition and Jesuit intrigue!

God: (Whispers to the Publisher) Never mind—I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Tell me old man, do you happen to have a Burning Bush or a Whirlwind about the premises?

The Publisher: It's against the fire code!—and the Whirlwind clogs up the ventilator shafts with debris.

God: Pity, I always did like that Burning Bush schtick. And speaking out of the Whirlwind has such a convincing effect! After all who is going to talk back to a Whirlwind? It rather did the trick with old Job, eh what!

The Author: (whispering in God's ear) Perhaps I should try to explain to them?

God: (whispers back) Never apologise; Never explain!

The Author: The situation is well in hand, friends! God and I will just retire to the back room and work out a solution, and before you know it everything will be solved. (Disregard that man behind the curtain!) We will call for you all as you are needed. Now just peacefully run along home now! Run along now—everything is well in hand!

God: Right! Well I think the rebellion has died down—do you think you can handle the situation yourself again?

The Author: Well, I think they've come around to seeing things my way. I'll carry on with my plan and make it up to them as we go further on. Now there is just one problem—Sartorius—it seems he's gotten himself quite depressed and he is a bit suicidal over the thought of existing in a fictional work.

God: Well, bring him in and I'll talk to him. Maybe I can bring him around... (They Wait)...

...Well, hurry up about it! I've got an entire universe waiting on me and a Talk Show in half an hour!......Busy! Busy! Busy!...O Tempora! O Mores!...Nowadays even God has to work like the devil to make ends meet!...Ah well...Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis...

(Sartorius Enters)

The Author: Robert Old Fellow! Why the long face? You've got to snap out of it! We've got quite a story to finish!

Sartorius: I'd prefer not to.

The Author: What's the problem? What happened?

Sartorius:I had a dream—a nightmare rather. I dreamt I was but a character in a novel and not real. In such a case I'd prefer not to go on.

The Author: But we're in the middle of the story!

Sartorius:I'd prefer not to.

God: (whispers to the Author) Let me give it a try. —I say my dear Robert, you've got to buck up old man—stiff upper lip, what ho! Just think of everyone who is depending on you. If you don't finish the story no one will ever know of your dear friend Günter Gross, of Isis and Osiris of your son Jack—of Eva—who will know and remember Eva without you?

Sartorius: (Is silent, then begins to cry) All right! All right! I'll do anything you say!

God:Robert!—just look at it this way—You are as real as you believe yourself to be—you have as much reality as you give yourself and others invest in you. I've felt that way for aeons! Speaking of dreams, you know, last night I had a dream that I was a cosmos. Now I still haven't decided if I am a God dreaming I am a cosmos, or a cosmos dreaming I am a God! After all it really doesn't make much of a difference—one is just the mirror image of the other—like matter and anti-matter. And remember you live in the hearts, minds and imaginations of readers as well as your own—a life that is real and lasting far beyond the span of years of actual readers.

Sartorius: But if one were a fiction in a book, and no one reads us, or if we are read but never understood or forgotten?

God: We have to proceed on faith, Robert—both of us. It's our existential choice. Just suppose yourself to be a species of dream or fiction—friend Shakespeare—we are such things as dreams are made on—La Vida es Sueño! —even in that case wouldn't you want to be the best and finest fiction you were capable of being? And wouldn't your life in the hearts of the men and women you touched be real in itself? And if you inspired real men to real actions which transformed the world itself wouldn't you be as real or more real than those inert lumps of protoplasm which exist their days and are thereafter forever forgotten? Couldn't a man of such stuff as dreams are made on dream an army of real men into existence? Doesn't even an inhabitant of a dream have a real integrity and a real honour if he acquits himself with grace under pressure even in his fictional universe? If you were not real to begin with wouldn't you become real as your story unfolded in the ears of men and women and in the world?

Don't just stand there with your nose getting longer like Pinocchio! The show must go on! The world is waiting! We can give up in negation or we can proceed in faith.—The Eternal Yea or the Eternal Nay. —It is your choice. If we give up now no one will ever read this novel and quite possibly the window of opportunity for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly may be lost. The world may in very reality destroy itself in nuclear folly. Here, now, we have a chance to enter the hearts and minds of the people and change history. Remember Robert, whatever the Postmodern cant, the life of the mind and the life of the imagination are still and ever a part of real life, and perhaps its most real part. It's our choice to be the best beings we can be, regardless of the part assigned to us. If this is a dream let us make it the most honourable and sublime dream we are capable of producing. The mind is its own place, says brother Milton. The life of the mind is also the life of the world. Both are the faces of Spiritus Mundi. The best players to not break up their parts to weep, but play out those parts joyfully and sublimely. Do I have your hand on it Robert? Robert! The question isn't at all whether we are real or dream, real or fiction by anyone's standards, the question is how good, excellent, virtuous, honourable, aspirational and inspirational we can be—the best that we can be—under any circumstance or condition! Robert!—Let's get you back—get on that submarine!

Sartorius:"Elohi, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!" he said as they walked arm-in-arm in their trenchcoats through the drizziling rain towards the waiting submarine.

4

About two-thirds of the way to Castalia through the Great Central Sea Zheng he stood at the helm while Captain Nemo tried to take a couple of hours of sleep to keep his mind functioning. Suddenly he saw the red flashing lights of the sonar acoustic tracking system. His Countermeasures Officer hailed him on the speaker to report that he had picked up a sonar and electro-magnetic contact about forty kilometers to the starboard rear. Quickly he checked his auxiliary detection systems—the Active Spread-spectrum Magnetic Imager confirmed the contact as did the Hydrodynamic Pressure Wave Detector. Plotting out its course he calculated that the contact was closing at a speed slightly greater than the Nautilus' own and was on course to intercept the Nautilus in about twenty minutes. The First Officer hit the alarm calling the crew to Battle Stations, ordered a change of course and depth, and then rushed to awaken Captain Nemo to the crisis.

When Captain Nemo regained the Con he checked the Christmas Tree, his eye running over the array of red and green lights indicating which valves or manifolds were opened or closed. This is the station where the hydraulic actuators for the main ballast tanks were operated, controlling the boats diving and surfacing function. He nestled himself down in his black leather command chair and took the helm.

"Rig for Red, Rig for Silent Running!" he commanded.

Immediately the red lights switched on in the command center and the speed of the boat palpably slowed; the crew took steps to cease the further loading of auxiliary torpedoes and any functions creating any detectable source of noise.

Captain Nemo then stepped behind the Sonar Officer Ensign Sindbad and followed the rotation of the green arm sweeping across the screen of the sonar display. With each ping he and the sonar officer could see the change in the relative positions of the contact and the Nautilus.

"There is only one boat that can move that fast—It can only be the Baphomet! Mephisto must be on board and making a last-ditch effort to intercept the Seed Crystal." Nemo muttered to Zheng He.

"Full-Right Rudder!" ordered Captain Nemo, "...we are going to have to zig-zag and see if we can shake him off.. ...Countermeasures!"

"Countermeasures away. Sir!" responded Zheng He, as he looked at the lights on the command and control console of the BLR-24 Submarine Acoustic Warfare System (or SAWS) interpreting the status of the integrated receiver, processor, display, and countermeasures launch system lit up before him. It indicated that an Acoustic Drone had been launched to follow the old course of the Nautilus generating an acoustic signature mimicking the actual operating sounds of the actual Nautilus. If the enemy believed the report of its listening instruments it would follow the drone.

"Engage Caterpillar Drive" barked out Captain Nemo, commanding that the submarine should switch from its propeller driven propulsion system to its revolutionary "Caterpillar" or Magneto-Hydrodynamic Drive—a form of silent "Jet Engine" especially useful in running silently to avoid Anti-Submarine Warfare. Immediately thereafter the vibrations of the propellers ceased and only a faintly audible rushing sound like the burbled flowing of a mountain stream was discernable.

Then they waited for ten minutes, eyes glued to the screens of the detectors to see if the Baphomet would maintain its course and follow the drone or would alter course to a new line of intercept with the Nautilus. At the end of the interval the voice of Ensign Sindbad rang out on the headphones:

"She's changing course—following us again—heading zero-niner-niner—she's back on an intercept. She didn't take the bait." he called out with notable disappointment ringing in the tone of his voice.

"Two bogies at five kilometers and closing! Speed ninety kilometers per hour!...The Torpedoes have acquired and locked in and are homing on us, Captain!...Four minutes to impact!" cried out Zheng He from the SAWS Combat Console.

"Dive! Crash Dive" shouted Nemo, "All Ahead Flank!—Full Right Rudder!...Reverse Starboard engine...Countermeasures...Acoustics, Decoys...Rig for Impact!"

Zheng He's eyes lit up in the green light of the SAWS Combat Console as he saw the flashing indicators of the incoming torpedoes.

"Closing...closing...still closing...Turn you bastards, turn goddam you!...Ten seconds, nine, eight...Turning,Sir!...they're off 5 degrees...five, four, three, two, one...missed!...God, that was close!" he ejaculated involuntarily. Ten seconds later they heard the sound of the twin explosions of the torpedoes detonating against the neighboring rocks.

"Take her to the bottom...set her down on the floor" commanded Nemo, "15 Degrees on the Bow Planes, come Right to 240, Move it!"

"She's on the bottom Captain." reported Zheng He.

"Shut everything down and make like a hole in the water!" Nemo commanded. "Ensign Sindbad, get everything that can float including the bodies of any of the dead into the torpedo tubes and blow them out the tubes onto the surface. Jettison anything that could make flotsam and make it realistic.

"Aye, aye Sir!" responded Ensign Sinbad. Then everyone ceased speaking and moving, trying to avoid the slightest sound that might give away the boat's presence. After ten minutes, the Captain again spoke:

"First Officer Zheng—where is the enemy now?" whispered Nemo.

"He's circling the area about two kilometers to our stern on the surface. Shall we make a run for it?" he asked.

"No!...We sit tight until he believes he has sunk us, and then we make our move." Nemo replied firmly. Again they waited silently...five minutes...ten...fifteen.

"Captain! He's changing course! He's coming right at us.!" gasped Zheng.

"Quiet! Sit Tight!" responded Nemo. And they sat tight for one hour, and then two more, until they heard the screws of the Baphomet turning again.

"He's overhead, just above us!" Zheng He whispered nervously, "...now he is going past...over our heads, heading 257 at 1200 meters."

"Go!" shouted Nemo, "Ensign Sinbad, engage the Caterpillar drive— make her depth 1300 meters, ease her right up the bastard's ass."

"Won't he be able to hear us again?" whispered Sinbad to Zheng He diffidently when the Captain was out of earshot.

"Not if we stay in his baffles!" chirped back Zheng "...if we keep right on his ass he won't be able to hear us over his own screws!"

Thus Captain Nemo brought the Nautilus up gradually and gently in the rear of the Baphomet, guided by the active sonar on the Baphomet sounding in search for him. Ten minutes later the Captain again gave the order:

"Arm Torpedoes One and Two! I want full safeties on them...Plot a solution, Mr. Zheng...I don't want these fish coming back on us if his countermeasures work on them." barked out Nemo.

"Aye. Aye Captain...weapons armed and readied...Safeties engaged...I have a firing solution!...Waiting for you order sir..." responded Zheng.

"Fire!" shouted Nemo.

"Fire One!...away and running...Fire Two!...two fish are hot and running.

"Hard rudder starboard!......Give me everything she's got Mr. Sindbad! Move!" he yelled, as the lurching of the boat caused everyone in the command center to grab for supports.

"Mr. Zheng...report!"

"Fish hot, straight and normal...they have acquired the target and homing, sir...two minutes to impact." he responded.

"Ensign, make her depth 600 meters, come to course two niner zero...Caterpillar drives full speed ahead!" he commanded.

"Aye, Aye sir!"

"Baphomet is turning, taking evasive maneuvers, sir...they have released Countermeasures...ten, nine, eight, seven, six...five, four, three, two, one...Missed! Sir, their Countermeasures must have diverted the torpedoes...Impact! ...No go, sir...they have destroyed the decoy, not the Baphomet." Zheng gasped out.

"Full speed ahead, Ensign...we'll have to try to outrun her." get me 125% and return to course Oh Niner Zero...we'll zig centripetally and zag back centrifugally after we have lost him...get me to Castalia. Mr. Sindbad...alive if possible!" he brayed out gruffly.

"Aye, Aye sir!"

"Increase to flank, and let's get the hell out of here" ordered Nemo.

"I think we've lost them...they are off on our original course..." reported Zheng He.

"I hope to God you're right" responded Nemo.

The Nautilus thus proceeded by zigs and zags, losing time but gaining the probability of survival for the next twelve hours. Captain Nemo was now confident that he had lost the Baphomet, but he took no unreasonable chance. The crew took turns at sleeping during the intervals of safety, and the band of Argonauts kept to the officer's mess and discussed their chances and their options. They suffered under their helplessness. They had nothing to do but to trust to Captain Nemo's skill and battle cunning.

After twelve hours Nemo increased speed and curtailed the zig-zagging, making a more direct course for Castalia. As he drew closer to his objective, however, he was aware of his increasing disadvantage. Though the Baphomet could not find him in the open sea, still there was no practical alternative to proceeding to their objective, Castalia, as the crisis could not wait. Nemo knew that Mephisto knew where he must end his voyage, despite his clever evasions, and he knew that Mephisto and the Baphomet would be waiting for them when they got there. As they drew nearer and nearer to their end goal the danger thus increased exponentially. It would take all his skill and experience to get into the Port of Castalia without being sunk.

When they were fifty kilometers out Zheng He cried out from his position at the Acoustic Warfare Console: "Contact! Contact Captain! Bearing Two Five Niner, speed seventy five knots, depth five hundred meters!" he shouted desperately.

"Dive!" Cried out Nemo..."make her depth twelve hundred meters, course One Eight Seven. All ahead Flank!" he commanded.

"She's coming down our throat!" shouted back Zheng He, "...he's closing at seventy-five knots and he has acquired our position...he is changing course to directly intercept us!..."

"He's too fast for us...we can't outrun him and he knows where we have to get to, so we can't run away, hide or play games. Our only option is to fight and win." Thought Nemo out loud to himself principally, though to the others incidentally.

"Captain! Torpedoes in the water!" cried Zheng He, "...Estimated range eight thousand meters and closing!"

"Hard about starboard...all Flank, full speed ahead on course setting Three One Five...Release Countermeasures One and Three..." Nemo barked back.

"Captain, say again...you are heading straight into the torpedo!...are you sure Three One Five?" shouted Zheng.

"Damn it Zheng, just do what I bloody say! Do it!...Now I tell you!" he shouted back at the top of his voice.

"Aye, Aye Sir."

"Torpedo bearing Three One Five...Range Three Thousand Meters and closing..."

"Mr. Sindbad...Increase speed!" Nemo ordered.

"Captain, the reactor is already at 120% of the danger level...I can't increase it further!" Sindbad cried back.

"Then give me 130%!" shouted back Nemo "If she blows it won't be before the torpedo hits if we can't evade it."

"Aye, Aye Sir!"

"Torpedo One thousand meters and closing Captain!...Time to impact thirty seconds...twenty seconds...ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five!...four, three, two, one..." he screamed uncontrollably.

But at zero they heard the high-pitched whine of the torpedo drone up and then down in pitch as it passed them without exploding.

"What happened?" shouted Sindbad.

"Combat tactics!" laughed back Zheng He, "...Combat tactics! The captain closed the range so quickly by heading into the torpedo that the torpedo did not have time to arm itself and detonate! He's outfoxed him!" he cried ecstatically.

"And that's it?" asked Sindbad uncomprehendingly.

"Not quite." Nemo replied, "...Mephisto is clever...he is removing the safety features of his torpedoes at this very moment. He won't be fooled by the same trick twice. Mr. Sindbad, make her depth six hundred meters, bearing Three Three Three...we'll race him into Castalia. He will have only one more chance to stop us. Then we will be ready for him." Nemo strategized aloud.

Then Nemo closed the distance to Castalia by one half as the Baphomet raced to overtake him. Nemo took the Nautilus to the bottom and waited for Mephisto to pass over him. Then he brought her up behind the Baphomet's baffles. Mephisto detected his position, however, and diverted ninety degrees to the starboard in an attempt to shake him off his tail.

"He's going deep!" shouted Zheng He, as the Baphomet dove in an evasive maneuver.

"Thirty degrees down angle!" barked out Nemo, "Stay with him!"

The Baphomet twisted free however and came round facing the Nautilus. Then it fired two more torpedoes at the Nautilus.

"Full speed ahead! Give me all you've got." he roared out.

"Captain! Two torpedoes closing on our stern...Impact in three minutes!" shouted back Zheng He.

"Emergency Blow!" Captain Nemo shouted, "...blow all tanks! Emergency Surface!" Then the Nautilus raced to the surface of the sea, propelled by the loss of its ballast and by the screws driving it upwards, the faster torpedoes, however, racing after it. Captain Nemo calculated, however, that he still had time to reach the surface before they could catch him.

"Depth four hundred...three hundred...two hundred...one hundred...Impact in one minute!..." Zheng he shouted frantically.

"Release Countermeasures!" Captain Nemo shouted, "Secure battle stations...everybody strap in...we are going to breach like a sonofabitch!...Hold tight!" he cried.

Then the immense bulk of the Nautilus lifted itself far out the water like a missile or a flying fish taking flight, and cast itself into the air but for its stern, and then came crashing down seconds later. The torpedoes followed the Countermeasures and passed beneath the Nautilus. However, since Mephisto had disarmed the safety measures the torpedoes continued on active, and circled seeking for their target. Three minutes later they latched onto their target again with their seeker guidance and they turned in the direction of the hull which they sensed. Their acquired target, however, was not the hull of the Nautilus but of another submarine. It was the hull of the Baphomet!

"Captain!" cried Zheng He. "Captain, the torpedoes have locked onto the Baphomet and they are homing home!......Two Thousand meters...impact in fifty secondsand

counting...thirty...twenty...ten...nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!......"

And then there came a deafening explosion followed quickly by a second which rocked the Nautilus and turned it listing momentarily forty-five degrees starboard before righting, spilling everything from tables and shelves. Then another minute later a third hideous explosion followed.

"It must be the Baphomet's reactor going off!" observed Zheng He solemnly yet triumphantly.

Ten minutes later they spotted the wreckage floating to the surface with their periscope. As they could not be certain the Baphomet was alone, they decided to make full speed for the Port of Castalia, which they reached in another half-hour. Within an hour of their arrival Sartorius led his party into the launch sent out to them by the Magister Ludi, and they soon were greeted on the dock by that eminent personage, who escorted them to the retort of the Crystal Bead Game.

# CHAPTER XIII.

### London

### Armageddon

On Day Thirty of the Crisis on the Evening News of the BBC World Service Etienne began with a summary re-cap of the events to date over the last month, beginning with back footage of the detonation of the nuclear device in Jerusalem and its devastating aftermath. Next came the story of the dramatic hostage taking at Teddy Stadium and Atarot Airport of Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao along with the their entourage of global dignitaries including former Presidents Carter and Clinton, Tony Blair, Former United Nations Secretaries General Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Perez de Quellar, and Kofi Anan and the accompanying organizers and staff from the Global Appeal Campaign for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and their use as 'human shields' by their presence in Teheran and at the sites of Iran's nuclear processing facilities. Footage was shown of the hostile and fearful crowds in Teheran taking over the Chinese and Russian embassies, reenacting some of the events of the hostage crisis under Jimmy Carter's presidency. Next came the hearings in the United Nations Security Council and the formation of the Expeditionary Force by the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, with the Russians and Chinese massing forces along the Iranian border, met by smaller mobilizations of forces in area by the NATO nations in counterbalance. Next Etienne introduced the footage of the initial abortive meetings hosted by President Barret Osama at Camp David at the commencement of the crisis trying to broker a negotiated end to the crisis via a guarantee of mutual nuclear restraint and parallel release of the hostages—attended by the Presidents and heads of government of Britain, Russia, China, Iran, Israel, Saudi Arabia and the UN Secretary General. Etienne then cut to shots of the subsequent mobilization of the nuclear forces of all the powers, including American, Russian and British nuclear missile submarines, footage of ICBM's being prepared in their silos in Kansas and South Dakota as well as in Xinjiang, the Ural mountains, and of B-52 bombers practicing launching nuclear-tipped cruise missiles.

While he presented this version of the unfolding story cleared for public release, Etienne through his briefings at MI6 Headquarters at Vauxhall Cross was also acutely aware of the highlights and ironies of the higher drama unfolding at the highest levels behind the scenes. Sir Endymion had briefed him on the continuing and latest revelations from Nightingale regarding developments within the Chinese Politburo. Thus he was aware of, though obediently did not make public the role of the Chinese Ministry of State Security in placing the nuclear device in the Terracotta Warrior placed in the Israel Museum. He was also most painfully aware of how dangerous a brink of mass destruction the world had arrived at, with the Russian and Chinese SCO Expeditionary Force massed on the Iranian border waiting for the "Go" signal from their Siloviki and Tai Zi Dang controllers in their respective capitals and the game of bull and bluff being played out by the American President and the NATO allies on the one hand and the SCO-Iranian Axis forces on the other regarding the threatened invasion of the Saudi and Middle-Eastern oil deposits, mostly located in areas with Shiite majorities, which Iran had an ambition to unite in a Greater Shiite Caliphate under the guidance of the Supreme Leader and under the nuclear and conventional military umbrella of the Russians and the Chinese. He was also aware, given the huge stakes involving control of the energy jugular of the Western world and the ultimate long-term Balance of Power in the Greater Eurasian Continent, that the magnitude of the threat would cause even the most pacific of American and NATO leaders to go to and perhaps beyond the point of thinking the unthinkable. He was aware of the game of threat and counter-threat, bluff and counter-bluff that was unfolding itself behind the scenes, a deadly game which might well determine the destinies and perhaps even the lives and very possibility of continued survival of the seven billion humans on the face of the earth. He was aware that The American President and the British Prime Minister, speaking for all of NATO had revealed to the Russians, Chinese and Iranians that they were aware of their clandestine plan, and that if they did not immediately back off and back down by withdrawing their forces from the area that NATO would employ all force necessary, nuclear explicitly not excluded, to prevent the adventure's success. Thus it was with a tinge of melancholy, foreboding and trepidation beyond even the dimensions of the details of the publicly known crisis that Etienne delivered his special news report on the crisis to date, hinting at the possible complications and escalations that might occur without giving away the details in fact known to him.

Thus also was it with a special sense of urgency, following his broadcast and upon leaving the BBC broadcast centre in Bush House that he hailed a taxi to Vauxhall Cross for the latest top secret briefing with Sir Endymion. When he got there, however, he had to wait over an hour as Sir Endymion was tied up with a new urgent briefing with C and Joel Barlow and the Prime Minister at COBRA (the Cabinet Office Building Conference-Room A), that is the 'situation room' where the special emergency meeting of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC)—the operations centre at Whitehall—had been in progress for some hours. By the time he got back to meet with Etienne he was exhausted and hungry, so the pair had a dinner and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sent up to Sir Endymion's offices while they went over the latest feeds from Nightingale. He handed Etienne a copy of the latest translated transcript, who read it as Sir Endymion wolfed down a thick cut of roast beef, medium-rare with a horseradish and sour cream sauce, downing two glasses of the Cabernet as he ate. Etienne sipped his own glass of wine in a snifter as he read the account of the Politburo meeting immediately following the demand from the American President and the British Prime Minister that they abandon their Persian Gulf adventure or suffer the consequences:

"So they know what we are doing," Foreign Minister Tang observed, "This is not a good development."

"A man in the street may know what an armed robber will do but if he has a pistol and you have none what difference would such foreknowledge make..." riposted Luo Chunwang, "...what do you say Comrade Marshall?"

"When one acts on the world stage it is fruitless to try to hide behind a garden shrub in hopes of secrecy. Tactical Surprise is hard to achieve on a large scale. Large troop movements cannot very long be absolutely secret and intentions can be guessed if not discovered. We must redouble our counter-intelligence vigilance however to make sure there is no intelligence leak at any level of our government. More likely they may have penetrated the Russians or are guessing in the dark. In any case from a military standpoint we have already achieved the big thing which cannot be taken away from us, that is Strategic Surprise. With grand armies and modern technology it is difficult to combine that with absolute Tactical Surprise on top of Strategic Surprise and strike with absolute secrecy as in the case of Pearl Harbor. The critical thing is that we have Strategic Surprise—they are caught with their pants down in the Persian Gulf and it would take them months to redress their inferiority of ground troops and assets on the ground in the area—we still have the advantage even though they have guessed or learned our objectives—but it makes it ever more urgent to strike immediately before they can reinforce their strength—and we need to be firm to keep our Axis allies the Russians and Iranians from getting cold feet and soft balls." Replied Defense Minister and commander-in-chief Marshall Li.

"And the American President doesn't have the balls for a real confrontation. He is just a superannuated college kid who talks a good game but doesn't have the guts for a real dust-up. And do you see him handing back his Peace Prize and using his nukes? No! Believe me, they are all bluff and no balls these bourgeois paper tigers." cut in Luo Chunwang.

"Very True" followed the President and Party Secretary, "...but we still have to be cautious now that they know what we are up to—we need what the Americans call their 'Plan B' in case things go wrong or circumstances change. Minister Luo, what is the status of the back-up contingency plan we talked about last month in the planning sessions?"

"We are still on target there too." responded Luo Chunwang with an aggressive tone, "we have secretly deployed and stockpiled a large reserve of forces unknown to the Russians in Xinjiang, Inner Mongolia and Heilongjiang. We have deployed the advanced contingents of a potential occupation force into all the areas of Siberia under the cover of reserve forces in transit in readiness for deployment to the Middle-Eastern front, and along the rail links westward, disguised as logistic troops to support our Expeditionary Force in Iran. If things go badly we have arranged that our reserve forces will invade Siberia and the Russian East, including its vast oil, gas and energy reserves, and our Expeditionary force will execute a fighting retreat to cut off any Russian counterthrust. Thus if we do not achieve the Grand Prize of control of the Middle-Eastern oil and energy supplies, then we shall have the Consolation Prize of the Russian Far East and Siberia east of the Urals—a land taken away by force and duplicity from our Qing Dynasty forefathers and to which we have every rightful historical claim, rolling back the unequal treaties of the last two hundred years. Mongolia should also by rights be ours from our Qing and Yuan Dynasty heritage, just as much as Tibet and Xinjiang are and should be. Our forces are already secretly offloading extra offensive supplies, constructing bases for attack at our logistics support bases in the Russian East and preparing the way for our main invasion force from China to quickly seize the access routes and railways that are the only fragile means for the Russians to maintain their grip on their Far East. All Russian access and communications with Siberia and their own Far East are incredibly fragile and vulnerable as they pass by only a couple of rail links, easily cut, and extended and exposed for thousands of kilometers. We have already achieved full mobilization of our secret reserves and they only await our signal. If complications arise in Iran and the Middle East we shall fall back fighting and seize Siberia. Have no fears—we have planned for all contingencies."

"Excellent" gloated the Party Secretary, "Luo, how do you then recommend that we reply to the American demands."

"We call their bluff—we demonstrate and release live video footage of the readiness of the Chinese and Russian ICBM's and submarine-based nuclear missiles to respond to any threat and caution them that any attack will be met with in kind. Have no fear! These cowards will not stand up to us—they haven't the balls to even think the unthinkable, let alone do it. We will come out of all this as the pre-eminent power on the face of the globe!—as we have always deserved to be!" bolstered Luo.

"You may well be very right." responded Foreign Minister Tang, "...but forgive me if I raise the question of what the American and NATO response would be if we seized Siberia...that unfortunately is my job as Foreign Minister to worry about the responses of other nations...You see British foreign and defense policy for the whole Modern Era has been predicated on the premise that no one power should ever be allowed to dominate the whole of Europe. If a Napoleon or a Hitler were ever to control all of Europe they would be dominant enough to ultimately overwhelm and extinguish the freedom of the British. Hence the historic role of "Perfidious Albion" seeking to counterbalance the rise of any pre-eminent power and drag them down by hostile alliance. By extension, the Americans have adopted the same policy, this time at the scaled-up level of refusing to allow any power or Axis alliance of powers to dominate the entire Eurasian Continent, newly integrated, of which even the united European Union and NATO is only now discovering itself to be but one vulnerable small part. Would not the Americans and the NATO powers consider any power that would be capable of dominating the whole of Greater Eurasia to be the only lethal threat that would ultimately outweigh their own global supremacy? Would they not a fortiori oppose the formation of such a Greater Eurasian Hegemon with all their resources, as they for centuries did oppose Napoleon, Hitler and Stalin's threat to unite all of Europe against them?"

"Of course they will oppose us" reposted Minister Luo, "...but by then it will be too late and the West will already have been consigned to the dustbin of history. The best scenario is that we eliminate the West as a world power by our joint SCO-Iranian control of the Mideast, and then eliminate the Russians when the task is accomplished. Second best is our 'Plan B' to eliminate the Russians first and postpone our greater objectives for a later auspicious opportunity after China's rise and our dominance has become irresistible. In either case we move from strength to strength, exploiting our adversaries' weaknesses until we obtain our ultimate and inevitable victory.

Plus, remember the Americans and NATO are not the only ones who are capable of acting globally. The Americans in their arrogance consider that they are invulnerable on their home front while acting with impunity to encircle and contain us in our Eurasian theater. Such blindness and arrogance! But they forget that our long preparations in Latin America—the success of our efforts mobilizing our old ally Cuba together with Nicaragua, Venezuela, Ecuador and our alliance with the Brazilians in the BRIC formation are coming to fruition. When we have severed their oil and energy jugular in the Mid-East we will tighten the screws by denying them Latin American oil, not only from Venezuela with it vast reserves, but we will turn Mexico into an inferno for them by opening our long-prepared Second Front. They will see a new Bolivar rising to unite Latin America against their too long suffered hegemony. We will make the Americans learn that they cannot inflict pain on others without their own people losing their illusory immunity to grief and mass suffering in their own home base. They will learn they are not the only ones capable of drawing circles of "containment" around nations and will taste what it is like to be contained. Their dominance of the OAS and the Western Hemisphere economy has been slipping for decades. Our economic policy of exploiting the Western economic debacle of capitalism—the so-called World Economic Crisis—the Second Great Depression, for detaching the Latin American economy—and the African, from North American dominance and dependence with our new economic might has served well to mobilize the Latins against their old enemy—the hated domineering Gringos. They will learn that there will be a New Order in the Western Hemisphere as well as in our Eurasia by the time they attempt to mobilize their global resources against our Eurasia. I thus move that we give the green light at the final meeting of our SCO joint command, and demand that our Axis allies more forward as planned immediately."

"All right, Comrades, you have heard Minister Lou's motion and the time has come for our final decision on going ahead with our plans as laid out. Shall we approve the "Go" command for Operation Celestial Destiny and the back-up Plan B for the seizure of Siberia and the Russian Far East in the event of any failure to achieve the primary objective? Comrades, let's vote on what is best for our country and for its great destiny."

The vote was a mere formality. As usual unanimity was achieved for unanimity's sake alone, if not for lack of reservations. The vote was unanimous. After the vote the larger number of the Politburo and Central Committee members retired for a celebration of fine food, Bai Jiu—a strong white wine, and a long evening with their courtesans and kept-women in their compounds in Zhong Nan Hai, the lakeside compound of the elite party bosses in Beijing, or to their private villas in the suburbs outside the city center, trying to keep the doubts and reservations which all sensed but none spoke of below the horizon of consciousness or public observation.

When Etienne had finished reading the Transcript he looked up and found Sir Endymion gazing down intently at him.

"Well?" Sir Endymion asked, taking in his reaction.

"It is incredible—breathtaking and horrific—it's unbelievable to see it here with our own eyes." Etienne retorted, "...and what will we do about it all then?"

"C and the PM feel there is only one chance, short of the outbreak of World War Three and the possible Nuclear Armageddon of the human race. We have to divide and conquer—we need to get the Axis powers to balk and fight amoungst themselves to roll this threat up. If we fight without nuclear weapons we are already outmaneuvered strategically and will lose. If we fight with nuclear weapons then we turn the tiger out of its cage and unleash a chain reaction of which there is no controllable favourable outcome. The only chance of a positive outcome without mutual meltdown and destruction is to get them to fight amoungst themselves and pull back from their objective, forcing the Chinese back to their Plan B. We expect their final decision and move within forty-eight hours. Tomorrow the American President and the PM will call their bluff and demand of all three—the Russians, Iranians and Chinese that they back down and commit themselves to visibly begin the withdrawal of their advanced forces, or NATO will consider them legitimate targets of nuclear action. In the meantime, our plan is to approach the Russians, reveal the Nightingale transcripts to them and the satellite photos confirming the movement of the Chinese troops and assets into the jumping off stations for the Siberian invasion, and persuade them to back off on the Middle East invasion and expel the Chinese before they take over Siberia and their Far East. If they will agree to do so we will offer Russia NATO membership and military assistance in expelling the Chinese invasion. If the Russians give the "No Go" for the oil grab and take us up on NATO membership we will move NATO forces along their rail lines towards the Chinese and try to force them to withdraw. If the Chinese make a stand of it and try to seize and hold the Russian Far East we will engage them with the Russian forces, and we have also arranged to make a conditional offer of membership in NATO to the Japanese and South Koreans, who have agreed that if push comes to shove they will open a second front, cutting off the Chinese invasion from the rear with their own forces landed at friendly Russian ports along the Pacific. We need to get to the Russian top leadership, the Siloviki and the Prime Minister and successfully press home our case. We can do it through our normal channels, of course, but we fear we will not be able to reach them psychologically or be dismissed as not credible. What we need is a messenger whom the Siloviki trust to make our case to them behind the scenes, so that when we approach them directly they will be favourably disposed. That is our conundrum." set forth Sir Endymion, refilling Etienne's glass from an second bottle of Cabernet.

"Are you going to close down Nightingale then?" asked Etienne, "...if you want the Russians to believe you, you will have to give them some pretty strong proof to turn them around. But if you give them the Nightingale transcripts the Chinese MSS is going to start their security and counter-intelligence hounds loose to find out where the leak came from. Sooner or later they are sure to turn the source. There are only a limited number of sources who could have access to that level of information and they'll run each one to the ground with absolutely no holds barred...and then it's a bullet in the back of the head." thought Etienne out loud.

"We've taken all that into account and added it up over and over and come to the conclusion there is no other way out. We only have twenty-four hours to turn their psychology around 180 degrees and its going to have to be pretty dramatic. It is the eternal dilemma of intelligence, Etienne. We develop a source which is worth a thousand times it weight in gold. Then everything is done to keep it secret, limiting the number of people who know the source. But if you don't use the information, especially in a critical crisis, then you risk your invaluable assets becoming useless due to your own fears. The intelligence is worthless if it is not used, and used effectively, and it is irrational to keep it so close and hidden that no use can ever be made of it. Of course that very wider disclosure and revelation of the information might well destroy the source, but that is the nature of the game—and now the game is being transformed to the level of outright war in which the lives of hundreds of millions may hang in the balance, so we have to accept the risk with the value of the thing. Yes, we have got to get the Nightingale transcripts to the Russian Siloviki and their Prime Minister, and we have to do so in a way in which we will be believed and heeded. Any ideas?" Sir Endymion responded.

Etienne thought over his wine for several minutes, also taking time to offer Sir Endymion one of his Havana cigars, light up and then put up his feet on the coffee table, exhaling smoke as he gathered his thoughts. Then suddenly his eyes lit up and he spoke:

"Alexander Abramovich Medvedev! I think Medvedev is your man...he is in London, sympathetic to our cause and he is ex-KGB, his uncle was the head of the KGB in his youth—he is sure to be carry weight and be taken seriously by the Siloviki around the Prime Minister. If I am not mistaken he is aboard his fancy yacht, the Omnimaw." he blurted out.

"Is he willing and sympathetic to the cause?...Would he do it and do it effectively?" queried Sir Endymion.

"Well one can't be 100% certain, but I think so. I think he was quite a liberal in his youth and he is a civilized man, not a tribalist or jingoist. I think he can do it and would guess he would want to do it. In any case we can give it a try and feel him out on it. Then we can fly him to Moscow in four hours. In a crisis we don't have the luxury of 100% certainty." Etienne counseled.

"Let's get up the helicopter atop the building and fly over to the Omnimaw. I'll call up C over at the PM's and get a decision on it. You get the Nightingale material ready and join me at the helipad in forty-five minutes."

Etienne made his way back to his office at Vauxhall Cross and gathered up the required documents. Then he stopped to make a phone call. He called Yoriko Oe on her private mobile number and told her not to ask any questions but that she needed to get out of Beijing immediately and stay out until he told her it was safe. He couldn't tell her why and he couldn't let her pass on any information to Yuchun—Yuchun being so close to Minister Luo probably couldn't get away anyway so it was no use even thinking about it. So he told Yoriko not to ask any questions or why but just do what he told her. Since they had been lovers and she still loved and trusted him, she did what he told her and grabbed a morning plane back to her parents' home in Tokyo.

Within three hours C was accompanying Medvedev on his private plane lifting off from Stansted Airport and on a heading for Moscow, which he reached in another three hours. Within two hours after his touchdown his Eurocopter ferried him from Scheremetchevo Airport to the private dacha of the Prime Minister, an old acquaintance of his from their days together at the KGB before the fall of the Soviet Union. His uncle had been one of the Prime Minister's mentors when he was a new officer in the service and helped guide his way to the top. As three former field spooks they knew the score as to intelligence sources. Medvedev and C provided him a copy of the transcript and copies of the satellite overheads from NSA in Fort Meade, pinpointing the precise locations of the Chinese invasion forces within Siberia and those massed in neighboring provinces at their jumping off stations. Within several hours the Prime Minister was able to confirm the information from his own satellites and sources. By that time the British Prime Minister along with the French, German, Italian, Polish and Spanish leaders were in Washington for an Emergency NATO Summit. They all made formal public statements before the television cameras, supporting the American position. Then in secret, on encrypted fibre optic cable they made a second video broadcast, which was viewed by the Russian Prime Minister and his Siloviki cabinet and close advisors. In it the American President, flanked by Joel Barlow who provided the intelligence documents and DNI Director Admiral Orwell and backed up by all the assembled Western heads of government, made a brief statement of all that was known and made a formal offer to invite Russia and Japan into NATO if the Russians would agree to stand down from the contemplated invasion of the Middle East. They also threw in promises of oil contracts for purchase of Russian oil and gas a favourable rates and industrial, development and reconstruction assistance, plus financial aid for the Russian defense effort against the Chinese. The Russian Prime Minister agreed to respond to their offer within twenty-four hours.

# CHAPTER XIV.

### The Fever Breaks

1

As the Nautilus made its way from the open sea to the narrower Bay of Pellucidar and as the great dome of the Grand Retort grew in size and brightness in the approach to the harbor of Castalia, Sartorius stood on the deck watching the light splash and echo against the moving waters and watching the dark band of the land grow. There was it seemed, an inevitability about arrival at the port of destination on a sea journey, Sartorius reflected—as we watch the possibilities onshore being progressively narrowed to but a single point, to the last quay or slip, and it forced also into his memory the inverse mirror-image of his departure from this same quay so short, though seeming long, time ago; there is no doubt, he thought, a likewise mirror-symmetry about departure, a denial of inevitability, an opening out from the point of embarkation, beginning then the moment when all lines are lifted from their moorings and singled up, an unloosening of fate as the unknown and perhaps the uncreated begins to make its appearance ahead and astern, port and starboard, everywhere a dialation of possibility, even for a ship's company who has made the run many times. Now the journey narrowed again to its single endpoint.

When Sartorius reached the quarters of the Magister Ludi after disembarking from the launch which carried him and his party from the Nautilus that eminent personage invited him to sit and rest and enjoy a glass of sherry and a light repast. Though time was pressing the aged man was not unmindful of the human needs of his guests. He escorted Eva to her room so that she could lie down and rest immediately and then returned with an entourage to provide food and drink to the returning company, instructing the Major Domo to have a portion carried to her rooms. As Sartorius looked into the Magister Ludi's face as that ancient gentleman toasted their safe and successful return he saw that his face had grown more and more wan and strained since he had seen him last. He skin, already worn and drawn by his more than ninety years looked even thinner, resembling perhaps parchment or even paper. His eyes were strained and bloodshot and his movements were drawn with slowness as if he were fighting a hidden increase in gravitational drag in attaining his every and slightest movement. His blood seemed drained and absent from his body. He physically appeared like a man approaching death, and his gravity of speech seemed to reveal a consciousness of that fact. He nonetheless was keyed to an intense degree and he seemed to marshal within himself his every remaining reserve of energy to assure the consummation of his present mission, be it his last or no.

Though tired to the core, he spoke to Goethe optimistically, assuring him that there was still time and opportunity such that the game could be won and the stalemate broken with the help of the new crystal, which Sartorius removed from the leathern pouch around his neck and handed to him. He examined the crystal from all sides and facets, holding it within a changing beam of laser light to elicit its special characteristics and nuances. He wrote extensive notes in a black notebook and then settled down with Goethe and the crystal in a corner niche to discuss the technicalities of how the crystal should be set in play, an art which only a few of the old hands in the game could fathom and master. After an hour they declared that they were as prepared as they should ever be and placing his arm under Goethe's elbow the two men went in lock step at the head of a grand procession, crystal in hand, and mounted the platform of the Grand Retort. They adjusted the control rods and then lowered the crystal into the base solution where an immense burst of laser light pulsed outwards, revealing the reaction and the new concatenation that resulted. The Hundred Adepts examined the result and broke into a jubilant applause and a wave of embracings, hand-clasping and even kisses that would have been psychologically impossible on any other occasion. The stalemate was broken! Though the Endgame would continue for some days, the Crisis had passed like a near-fatal fever, and the Magister Ludi seemed to drop a score of years from his brow in the course of an hour. He had the look of a physician who knew from his craft and experience that the patient, though still wet with the sweat of the fever of crisis, would survive and live. He was himself however, exhausted. As soon as he knew the crisis had turned all his keyed up energy that had kept him in motion evaporated. He felt near fainting, near collapse with the sudden release of tension, and he asked the Major Domo to hold his elbow and help him back to his room before he would be overcome. Before he left to lay himself down to rest, however, he embraced Sartorius, Eva and all those who had journeyed after the crystal, who had gathered around him jubilantly. Though drained he was buoyed with the energy of the so longed for victory, and rising he addresses the small group before leaving them:

"You and your Argonauts have triumphed because of the love and life that I knew was within your hearts. And your triumph is all mankind's triumph. Living love is the force that transforms and improves the Soul of the World, the Spiritus Mundi. When I first came here and reached through to it I thought that the Spiritus Mundi was perfect. But later I could see that it was like all other aspects of creation, and that it had its own passions, wars and evolution, a neoplasm flowing across the centuries, ever changing in response to our most sacred hopes or deepest secret fears. It is we who nourish the Soul of the World and the world we live in will be either better or worse, depending on whether we become better or worse. You and your Argonauts, the seed bearers, life light and fire bearers, have passed on the baton and olympic torch to the next generation in this relay race of the living spirit. And that is where the power of love comes in. Because when we love and live out our love we always become better than we are, and the world and its spirit evolve ever onwards."

2

O Fortuna!

The persona of Lady Fortune, Fortuna, reminds us that fortune, ever changing, is a woman. This perhaps reflects man's just resentment from bitter experience of the inconstancy of woman in love, or perhaps, as women may fairly insist, it is but an unjust and biased projection of men's own failings which are even greater. Giuseppe Verdi's immortal Rigoletto, affirms that "La donna è mobile:"

—though in Verdi's play it is the callous playboy, the Duke of Mantua himself who is the more "mobile." Perhaps the personification of fate or fortune as an inconstant and unfeeling woman also reflects the fates of women, so often at the mercy of their often cruel mother Fortuna as well as the callous iniquities of men, leaving them so often orphaned and powerlessness over the circumstances and controlling events of the world and of their lives. St. Augustine sought to stamp out Fortuna's worship in ancient Rome: "How, therefore, is she good, who without discernment comes to both the good and to the bad? ...It profits one nothing to worship her if she is truly fortune... let the bad worship her...this supposed deity." The Medieval statesman and philosopher Boethius, in his Consolation of Philosophy, written while he himself faced execution in prison, reflected the Christian theology of casus, that the apparently random and often ruinous turns of Fortune's Wheel are in fact both inevitable and providential, that even the most coincidental events are part of God's hidden plan which one should not resist or try to change. Fortuna, then, was a servant of God, though perhaps a blind one. The Christianized Lady Fortune is not autonomous: illustrations for Boccaccio's Remedii show Fortuna enthroned in a triumphal car with reins that lead to heaven, and she appears in Chapter 25 of Machiavelli's The Prince, in which he says Fortune only rules one half of men's fate, the other half being of their own will. Machiavelli distinctly reminds the reader that Fortune is indeed a woman, and that as such she favours a strong, or even a violent hand, and that she favours the more aggressive and bold young man than a timid elder or diffident supplicant. Even Shakespeare was no stranger to Lady Fortune, that dark lady:

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state ... — Sonnet 29

That the arbitrariness of fortune and of destiny transcend all cultural and national distinctions is reflected in the classical Arabian tale of the Appointment in Samarra:

Lady Death speaks: There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, "Master, just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Lady Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me." The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop off he went. Then the merchant went down himself to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, "Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?" "That was not a threatening gesture," I said, "it was only a startle of surprise: I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra!

For Arthur Schopenhauer destiny was just a manifestation of the Will to Live. Will to Live is for him the main aspect of the living. The animal cannot be aware of the Will, but men can at least see life through its perspective, though it is the primary and basic desire. But this fact is a pure irrationality and then, for Schopenhauer, human desire is equally futile, illogical, directionless, absurd, and, by extension, so is all human action. Therefore, the Will to Live can be at the same time living fate and the choice of overrunning that fate by means of Art.

Nietzsche, in Ecce Homo, resolved the problem thusly: "My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it—all idealism is mendaciousness in the face of what is necessary—but love it."

None of these deeper thoughts or concepts, however, passed through the mind of the Baroness, Lady Lilith Maddox, as she found herself under guard and close confinement in a cell in the catacombs of Evian Prison on the outskirts of Teheran. Though she railed and cursed her luck and fate and would have joyfully strangled Lady Fortuna in bitterness and sweet revenge could she have gotten her hands about her fickle neck, she was not inclined to be either scholarly or philosophical about matters of life and death. She rather paced ceaselessly within her well-appointed rooms, a gilded cage for a prison, like a caged queen or tigress accustomed rather to make her destiny, or seize it by the throat and ravage it, than to bow to its higher mysteries.

Yet she felt the bitterness of Lady Fortune's decrees, that cruel stepmother, as her consort Caesarion Khannis (having of late shed the common name of Mustafa) had dug up and discovered her chain of intrigues designed to displace his dominant control of the emerging new world order rising out of the Triple Axis offensives which he had planned, orchestrated and directed. Not by nature content to play a supporting role she dreamed rather of her own ascension to power and stardom as a Cleopatra, an Elizabeth, a Cixi or Wu Zetian, a Hatshepsut or Penthesilia, at times playing with, or playing off against each other, an Anthony or a Caesar, but as out of a queen's policy of dividing and conquering. She bristled and chafed under Caesarion's dominance and bullying and sought to use her weapons, her womanly charms and her fertile mind to win over men to support her cause. Now the Rota Fortunae, the Great Wheel of Fortune, had wheeled full circle and cast her from within a hand's reach of the highest peak of triumph into the fathomless abyss. Caesarion's spies had found out her intrigues with Colonel Moussavi, with the Russian autocrat and with the Chinese, and out of both political and sexual jealousy he had cut them short. She thought she had covered her tracks well, but learned later that Jack McKinsey, whom she regretted more and more not having succeeded in killing when she had had the chance in England, had shared intelligence information on her treasons with Caesarion in a bid to buy his friends' release and sow discord in their camp. Now Caesarion had insisted that the Supreme Leader confine her incommunicado and under house arrest, and it was rumored that she would be sent in but a few days, after the military situation stabilized, to a penal island above the Russian Arctic Circle to keep her out of further mischief.

The Baroness railed against outrageous fortune, yes, but hers was not the character to pose the question of to be or not to be. For her the answer was self-evident and went without saying, embracing only the unquestioned drive not only to be, but to be great and powerful and desired by every eye, and yes to take up arms against a sea of troubles, but not to point a bare bodkin at herself but rather a dagger or bare body at her rivals and enemies throats, against whom she shouted or whispered promises of revenge and future triumph. To be or not to be to her was resolvable in but one way: she must "be," and and be great, and it must become the fate of anyone opposed to her "not to be." Unfortunately for Lady Lilith, however, Caesarion had only too healthy a respect for her, and knowing her from past experience as not only capable of, but proven adept at absolutely anything—from sexual seduction to poisoning, ambush, murder, torture, dissimulation, high theatrics, treason, espionage and deceit—all of which she had ruthlessly accomplished hundreds of times to his personal knowledge and so often on his own command and instructions, that he thus made no mistake in underestimating her by reason of her sex, and put her under even closer guard and confinement in a maximum security facility, albeit with the bourgeois comforts sur-added to make the cage a comfortable and gilded one. Having tipped off Colonel Moussavi and the Russian leader to her intrigues against himself and themselves, beginning with her plans of sexual seduction and intended blackmail and betrayal ending with planned assassination, he arranged through them and the Supreme Leader for her incarceration in Section 209 of Evin Prison, run by the Ministry of Intelligence and the most secure in the nation, pending her trans-shipment off to a more permanent penal colony in the frozen Arctic, a place more akin to the icy inward condition of her own heart and blood. It was against Caesarion's better judgment that he did not simply have her executed on the spot, but that he could not bring himself to do so arose from the inescapable fact that she was both his sister and his lover and too much a part of himself.

The First Day of Imprisonment

Now she sits fuming in her cell. How much of hatred she distills! There, motionless, with fixed and ardent eyes, seated in her solitary chamber, the outbreaks of those stifled howls, which escape at times from the recesses of her heart, accord with the vows of vengeance and magnificent revenge which rise, bellow, moan and break, over the stone walls of her confinement, like the wail of some captive demon in a bottle lost in impotent rage.

Sweet, yes would vengeance be, but to avenge herself she must first be free; and to get free there are a thousand stone walls to pierce and armed guards to overcome. Yes, prisoners have escaped, by tunnels, stratagems or by brute force, but such enterprises require time and patience, and Lilith realizes she has but days, perhaps weeks until she is to be shipped off to a distant frigid penal colony. Were she a man perhaps she could have fought overtly, sword to sword, and led men directly against her fate, but why has destiny made such a mistake as to enshrine a soul so strong within in the body of a delicate and beautiful woman?

Thus were the first moments of her captivity terrible: convulsions of rage, which she was impotent to restrain, which she paid to nature as the tribute of her feminine weakness. But by degrees she overcame these outbreaks of uncontrolled anger; the fever of hate and outrage within her subsided; and she at last fell back upon her own strength like a wearied serpent coiling itself to recover from the exhaustion and heat of an inconclusive deadly battle.

Regarding herself in the handsome dresser mirror which was placed next to her comfortable bed, so unlike a common prison cell in its pleasurable appointments, she began to look at and then speak to her own image: "I was a fool to be so mindlessly violent." she said, taking in the burning glances with which she now stared and interrogated herself. "That kind of raging violence is a proof of weakness; besides, I have never succeeded by those means; if I struggled against other women I might prevail by a rush of natural strength, but it is men I have to contend against, who are stronger than I, and I am but a woman to them. Let me then struggle like a woman. My strength is in my weakness."

Then she composed herself before her mirror, and like an actress beginning a rehearsal, or like a dancer limbering herself before a performance, she touched up her make-up then let roll over her face a succession of changes of expression and of face, testing the extent to which she might make plastic and responsive all of her most flexible, expressive and attractive features. She went through her full repertoire, from that of anger, which contracted every muscle, to that of the softest, the most affectionate, and the most seductive smile or cast of her sloe-eyes. Then, smoothed by her artistic hands, her hair was made to adopt every undulation which might work to heighten the effect of her emotional expressions, or add to the attractions of her alluring face. At last, in self-complacency, she murmured into her image: "Well, I haven't lost anything! I am still beautiful!"

Just then she saw the light go on outside, casting a beam under the crevice of the door and through the peephole. The bolts of the door clicked and moved heavily and the door moved on its heavy hinges; steps were heard outside the door and then approaching her. Then two orderlies carrying a table on which was set a silver tray and cover made their way towards her and set the table down, arranging the silverware. A handsome captain in uniform motioned for the orderlies to wait and then bowed towards her, saying: "I am Captain Massoud. Should you require anything you may summons the guard by pressing this button. ..."

But before he could finish his instructions one of the orderlies rushed to her side to catch her fall, as she fainted. He placed her across the sofa asking the Captain what he should do. Without taking a single step towards her, the Captain ordered one orderly to fan her while telling the second to go to the infirmary to fetch the doctor, and to inform Colonel Moussavi. As they waited the young Captain sat in the chair at the entrance to the cell, far from the seemingly unconscious form of Milady.

Her ladyship was master of that great art, so studied by women, of seeing everything unobserved by means of a mirror, a reflection or by a shadow, and as she slumped across the sofa she regarded closely under the corner of her drooping of eyelid the face and form of the young captain by means of the mirror on the dresser. He was good-looking, though not athletic in build and of middle height. His face seemed to contain itself in an aloof reserve at a distance, as if at soldierly attention, but with a discipline not entirely military, suggesting more that of a severe ascetic or monk. She had hoped that her feigned fainting would have caused him to play the solicitous gentleman, giving her a handle on him, but he maintained his distance, acting by commands to his underlings. Her first experiment had failed, but she bore it like a woman who had confidence in her own resources. She therefore began to moan and move and raise her head, finally allowing her eyes to open with a great sigh.

"You have recovered, Milady?" said the young Captain.

"Inshallah! By Allah the Merciful.—what I have suffered!" she moaned, and then raising herself to her chair, she assumed an attitude more graceful and alluring than that which she has assumed when she reclined on the sofa.

The Captain motioned for the orderly to bring her a glass of water, and then repeated: "Should you require any assistance you may press this button for the guard outside. Perhaps some food will make you stronger."

"But am I to be confined always alone in this gloomy cell?" she asked him plaintively, watching closely for signs of sympathy in his reaction.

"Until I receive further orders to the contrary," he replied without emotion "...and a maid should attend you in the morning for your more personal needs."

Just then two officers in uniform appeared at the doorway and made their way in past the guards and orderlies. One was the prison doctor and the second was Colonel Moussavi.

"Well, well, well!" cited Moussavi in a mocking tone, "...What is the matter now? Is this dead person alive again? Ha! Ha! Ha!—Massoud, don't you see that she took you for a sod and tried to play upon your sympathies? Why you may be assured that this is but the First Act of a comedy by which she shall be entertaining us by and by!"

"I suspected so, Colonel, but I felt I had a duty as an officer and a gentleman to care for a woman in need, and under unfortunate circumstances." he replied.

Her ladyship shuddered throughout her frame. Massoud's words penetrated like ice-water through all of her veins.

"A woman in need! Ha, Massoud! Get your wits about you. This "damsel in distress" has but one need and that is to deceive and lull into complacency then cut the throat of you, me and every guard that stands between her and escape! Don't let her acting skills delude you into thinking her a frail and weak thing in need of a strong gentleman's protection. She is a crack shot with a rifle and pistol and if you let her get at them it is you who will need protection not her. But that is not her principal weapon, Massoud. Just look at her! Beware the weapon of her sex! Have not these beautiful looks, so skillfully touched with her cosmetic and theatric arts, the delicate complexion and feigned soft and languishing forlorn look about her eyes not seduced you yet? They would me, and they did before I doused my head in the icewater of reality and woke up to what she really is—a venomous reptile! Now I have received my vaccination and am free of the pox of her infection with a full armamentarium of antibodies and resistances to her, and you must do the same Massoud!"

"No, Colonel. I assure you I am quite immune to such lowly and earthly things. It would take much more than a fair face and the petty stratagems and affectations of a woman to corrupt me away to my duty to my country and to my God, Allah. You may rest easy, sir."

"If that is the case, Massoud, let's go get some coffee and cigars and leave Milady to recuperate here with her supper. I am sure after she recovers her strength and puts her very fertile feline imagination back into play the Second Act of her Comedy will follow the first and we shall have to buck ourselves up to follow the plot and dénouement of it!" replied the Colonel.

As the two officers turned away laughing, her ladyship swore between her teeth: "I will make myself a match for the both of you!"—I will find the Achilles Heel of that young puritan Holier-than-Thou Boy Scout and his devotions, she thought.

Then as they passed out the cell door, he turned to the prisoner and smiled back to her, saying "Oh don't stand on ceremony or poor acting—enjoy the dinner. The salmon is excellent, I had it myself. Don't worry, it's not poisoned. We don't intend to inflict the same punishment you yourself have treated five or six of our intelligence community to already—luckily you still have a protector in high places. Bon appétit then, Milady, until your next fainting fit!" he sneered while closing the door behind him.

This was all that the Baroness could endure. Her arms grasped convulsively the arms of her chair, then her hair, and then at the cover of the dinner tray, which she flung aside. But then her eyes fell upon the silverware and saw the knife, fork and spoon wrapped in a linen napkin. She tore off the napkin and seized the handle of the knife with a flourish of menace, rising towards the closing door. Then laughter was heard from behind the door and it reopened, showing the faces of Moussavi and Massoud as they took in the raised knife in her hand, poised in striking position.

"You see, my dear boy, that knife was meant for you! It is one of her little eccentricities, performing surgery on the jugular veins of those she is angry with. Khannis tells me she has slit more than a dozen throats to his knowledge. If that were more than the blunt butter knife that it is we might not be standing here!" he laughed.

Her ladyship in fact still held the useless blunted weapon in her hand convulsively; but these last words, the crowning insult, unnerved her hands, her strength and even momentarily her will, and she let the butter knife fall upon the hand-woven carpet.

"You are quite right, sir. We are going to need to be more careful with this one, I can see." answered the young officer.

As the door closed behind them, the Baroness collapsed into the easy chair beside the table and sighed out loud: "I am doomed! I am in the power of people over whom I have no more influence than over a marble statue. And, they have been put on their guard and have been briefed on all my tricks and stratagems...And yet it is impossible that everything should terminate as they should have it...there must be a way, there always is, somehow."

And thus, as this last thought passed through her brain, the return of hope where there was no hope, indicated the measure of her inner resources, which could not long be weighed down in fear and feebleness, and her momentary defeat only spurred the desire for revenge and the increased vigilance in looking for an opening for this deep-thinking soul.

The Second Day of Imprisonment

Her ladyship was dreaming that she had already defeated Moussavi and Jack McKinsey and it was the sight of their abominated blood spurting from the severed stumps of their just beheaded necks lying before her feet that brought such a charming smile to her still-sleeping face. She slept with the hope of one who desperately needed and was accustomed to summoning hope.

The next morning when the entered the room she was still in bed. Captain Massoud remained in the corridor as an orderly brought in a silver-plated breakfast tray and a maid in a chador cleaned up, offering her services. Her ladyship's skin was naturally pale and it was easy for her to assume the pallor of sickness.

"Please, I am feverish and I have not slept an hour through the night. I am in dreadful suffering. Would you please let me remain in bed? I am not capable of getting up." she pleaded.

"Would you like me to fetch the doctor?" asked the serving woman.

Her ladyship reflected quickly that summoning the doctor might only confirm that her illness was feigned, and arouse the suspicion of Colonel Moussavi. Instead, she boldly threw the challenge back in her face:

"A physician? And to what purpose? These unfeeling gentlemen have already resolved against me that my illness is but a deceiving performance in their eyes. There is no one to hear or believe the truth. All I ask is that I be allowed to suffer alone undisturbed." she complained. At this Captain Massoud was disturbed enough to enter the room and address her directly:

"Milady, I am distressed that you have no faith in our sensitivity and concern as gentlemen. Say yourself, madame, what you would have done." he remonstrated with a tone of impatience.

"By Allah, how can I tell you anything? All I know is my suffering. Do anything you please—it is a matter of utter indifference to me."

"Go and summons Colonel Moussavi and he may decide." said Massoud to the orderly.

"No, no, no! Anything but that! I have had enough of the insults of that gentleman. If it comes to that I do not want anything and you may regard me as perfectly well!" she canted bitingly towards him.

She uttered her tirade with the heat of an emotion and a womanly pride and pathos so natural that Massoud was attracted a few steps towards her further into the room.

"I have got a grip on him!" thought her ladyship silently towards herself, regarding his looming form from the corner of her eyelid.

"And yet, if you are really ill we have a responsibility as officers and gentlemen to care for you. If you are feigning, then so much the worse for you, but we shall not have reason to reproach ourselves. Should you continue to require medical attention you have but to inform me." he said, betraying in his tone some implied sympathy for her feelings, before turning on his heels and retiring from the room with a slight irritation at it all.

"I believe I begin to see a method." her ladyship thought silently to herself.

Later, following the lunchtime, Captain Massoud reentered the room, finding her still abed. He looked at the tray of food and finding it untouched, as had been the breakfast, he remonstrated with her to take better care of herself.

"To what purpose?" she retorted, "...I am in the hands of my enemies and I expect neither care nor understanding from them. I am content to be martyred, and the sooner I die, the better, for all of us!" she muttered into her pillow in a tone of hopeless complaint.

"I hope I have not led you to such feelings, Milady. In any case, I have brought you a copy of your Bible, in case your feelings of despair should overwhelm you." he said, holding out the black-bound leather book embossed with a golden cross.

She suddenly experienced one of those sudden inspirations which are reserved for geniuses alone, on those great emergencies, those great crises which decide their fortunes or their lives. She suddenly realized that Massoud was underneath the military exterior and the puritanical veneer was a man of passionate feeling, though such deeper emotion had hitherto been diverted into the channel of religious rather than romantic passion. With the genius of a woman of consummate cunning she discerned that his underlying volatile emotional nature, which might lead him to the sincere self-flagellating passion and purity of religious Ashura, could, by the alchemy of a woman's presence, be transformed into a passion of devotion to a womanly beloved as well as a heavenly one. As Einstein had by intuition or calculus discerned the ultimate fungibility of all things, matter being transformable into energy and energy into matter, so she, polymath of seduction and corruption made the quantum leap of guessing the Achilles heel of the young would-be saintly warrior and martyr: love of beauty had made him holy, and love of beauty would make him unholy and damned. The way to the man's heart lay not, as in coarser natures through any stomach, but through the sensibility of heavenwardness, of the "ewige Weiblishe—the eternal feminine" made flesh.

"You may take away that heathen thing, Captain Massoud, as I am quite content with my own copy of the Holy Quran." she said, crossing the room frailly and in such a disheveled state as to best draw his sympathy and hidden attraction, drawing the book, with which she had taken the trouble to supply herself as a theatrical prop early on her arrival in the country, from her handbag; thereupon she knelt in the light of the window, the shadows of the iron bars falling upon her face in a pathos of chiaroscuro, and began reading and chanting the Quran's Suras and passages in a most heartfelf and impassioned way. She then continued with ululations and heartfelt laments directed towards the martyrs defending Ali, and the betrayal of the true Imam. Her religious laments laced forcibly with the pain and suffering of her own situation, brought forcibly to his mind the lamentations of the processional of the Ashura festival in which he had flagellated himself since boyhood before he became an al-Quds officer. He remained transfixed as she sang a series of heart-rendering Ghazals undulant of a deep and world-embittered faith in haunting flowing Urdu and Classic Persian, and rendered up with deep feeling the lamenting words of Hafiz, Ghalib, Mir and other masters of that art.

"You are a Muslim?" he said to her incredulously, at length after she has left off her prayers and incantations in silence.

She gave no answer and only wept to herself. At length he repeated his question: "Of what faith are you?" he implored feelingly, now commiserating with her sadness, and with an astonishment which, even with his accustomed self-command, he was unable entirely to conceal.

"I shall answer when I have suffered sufficiently for my faith." She replied cryptically and enticingly.

"And is that faith of our own?" he repeated.

"Yes, I am Allah's child. I was bred to the holy faith in South Asia, but my family had to dissemble to avoid persecution. Later, to avoid complications in the West, the Baron insisted that I not reveal my original faith in public. Only my closest friends and family know of my secret. Now I am to be martyred by the calumnies and lies of unbelievers." she said, bursing again into tears, her face buried in the loose sleeves of her arms.

Then she continued singing:

But Allah, the just and strong!

Our morn of freedom sends;

And should our hopes be wrong,

Still martyrdom, still death, our trials ends!

The last song, so focused on martyrdom, which the terrible enchantress poured out with her whole soul, completed the disorder of the young Captain's heart. Massoud made no reply, but after listening to her a long spell, he opened the door suddently and walked troubled and silent from the cell, as pale as ever but with his eyes flashing and almost delirious, only motioning to the guard to close the door with a sweep of his hand. After an interval of continued singing and weeping the Baroness turned and shared a smile of triumph with her dresser mirror.

The Third Day of Imprisonment

The next morning her ladyship watched from under her nearly-closed eyelids as the orderlies brought in the breakfast tray. She did not bestir herself or eat. She calculated that before long Captain Massoud would look in on her. Instead she threw herself on her knees upon her prayer rug and chanted prayers and ghazals by Ghalib before the morning light from the window. Beautiful, pale and resigned, her ladyship in the streaming sunlight looked like a holy saint in expectation of awaiting martyrdom.

The Baroness prior to marrying into the billions of the Baron had herself acted upon the stage and in minor roles upon the screen. She had once portrayed Joanne D'Arc in the West End and had practiced her role awaiting execution such to evoke a pathos verging towards the bathetic. She arranged herself upon her prayer rug and kneeled in prayer just where the light from the window would light up her angelic hair and skin. She applied only a touch of color to her lips and the creases of her eyes, emphasizing the sleepless pallor of her face and its look of deep suffering. She reached outside the window and found a loose strand of barbed wire woven over the bars, which she unwound and drew into the cell, fashioning it into a makeshift whip with which she could strike herself. Then she sang over and over the limpid tones of the ghazals, loud enough that her voice would be sure to carry out into the hallway and outer corridors where the Captain would be likely to be pacing.

As she heard footsteps approaching she rearranged herself and forced the tears to fall from her eyes. She spilled a bit of water on her gown to mimic the falling of a pool of tears upon her breast. She took care to loosen her underdress so that the morning light might catch her bodice and backlight her disheveled hair. Then she bit the inside of her mouth until it drew blood in a place where it would not mar her beauty and sucked out several mouthfuls of blood, then spat the blood onto her hands and rubbed it onto her back and neck, allowing a stream to trickle down onto the milk-white breasts beneath her bodice. Then as the steps outside the door grew louder so did the words of her prayer, which she recited, bowing on her knees on her prayer rug:

"O Allah, O Merciful and Compassionate Allah!—Thanks be to You from Whom all things come, whenever it is well with me, and also in the times of my affliction. In Your sight I am vanity and nothingness, a weak, unstable woman. In what therefore, can I glory, and how can I ask anything of you? It is because I am nothing, or only an infinitesimal part of You, who are everything. All that I have been before you came into me was but utterly vain. Do not cast me out forever nor blot me out of the Book of Life! O Allah and by the one and only Prophet it is true. Whatever anyone is in Your sight, that he is and nothing more. Let Your truth teach me. I ask that it be with me as You say, may You write my destiny as you see fit. Let it guard me and keep me safe to the end. Let it free me from all evil and I shall walk with You in the great freedom of the heart. Oh Allah who knows and plots all, let it be as you wish, but if you should see fit deliver me from the power of my enemies the infidels and unbelievers, O Allah the Just! O Allah the Avenger! Avenge me against these hypocrites, unbelievers and traitors to the faith! Deliver me from my unholy persecutors that I may again be your servant and avenge our faith against its defilers! O Allah! Let me suffer in your behalf! Martyr me, for I wish only to die and be delivered of my enemies unto You!"

Then, hearing the bootsteps grow nearer still and hearing the door begin to swing on its heavy hinges she took up the length of barbed wire and began to lash herself across the back of her nightgown, which she had not changed, drawing even an authentic flow of blood beneath that which she had just cosmetically applied.

"In the name of Allah the Merciful! In the name of the martyred Ali! In the name of Aisha! In the name of the Prophet! Martyr me! Martyr me! Martyr me!" she shrieked as she whipped herself more and more furiously, bursting out into tears and a seemingly uncontrollable flow of sobs punctuated with the broken lines of prayers and heart-rending ghazals.

"No! No!—Milady!—No! It is not permitted! I shall not permit it! I cannot allow you to do this to yourself!" shouted the Captain, himself falling to his knees and moved to passion before the beautiful suffering and bleeding form beneath him as he struggled to tear the length of barbed wire from her hand, only drawing more blood from her pale skin.

The Captain was visibly beside himself as he finally wrested the length of barbed wire from her bloodied hand, shaking with the memories of his many days of Ashura in Karbala at which he shed pints of blood from his own back with fish-hooked whips for the martyrs' and for heaven's sake. He could not bear to look upon a form so beautiful suffering the same scourging he had so inflicted upon himself. He struggled to hold back the tears welling in his eyes as he threw the barbed wire aside and kneeling over the shivering and shuddering mass of palpable beauty beneath him, he called frantically for the orderlies to assist him and to run for the doctor.

After the doctor had arrived and bandaged her hands and back and on the Captain's orders had administered a syringe of sedative, the orderlies and the serving maid shifted the Baroness back onto her bed, her disheveled hair swirling upon the silken pillow like a sleeping storm. He watched over her for another half-hour, and in a moment when she seemed to raise her eyelids and regain a half-consciousness he fell to his knees and kissed her hand, saying: "Milady, for your own sake, never do such a thing again! Milady!" Then, when he thought her eyes had closed and she was again unconscious he whispered, kissing the palm of her hand, crossed with bloodied bandages and held within his own: "Milady, for my sake if not for your own! Never Again!"

The Fourth Day of Imprisonment

Her ladyship knew that Massoud was on his knees before her in his heart. But more than that must be done. It was necessary not only to attract him and dazzle him, but also to retain and win him over—the first step of making a slave of him; her ladyship felt intuitively for the means of doing this.

But even more was needed. He must be made to speak to her that she might answer him at a great enough length to gain a firm and permanent grip on his heart and mind; for her ladyship was well aware that her most seductive power was in her voice rather than in her mere appearance or sexual charms; her enchanting voice could be made to glide skillfully through the whole scale of tones, from mortal speech, upwards to the tongue of heaven itself. With her voice a fix could be made on a man no less deadly than that of the voice of the Sirens.

Yet she knew also that for all the weapons and powers of seduction at her fingertips, she might well fail, as Massoud had been forewarned by Moussavi as to her artifices. For this reason she focused on herself intently in the mirror for hours, studying all her actions, inflections and reactions, making perfect every detail down to the slightest glance and gesture, and even the rise and fall of her respiring breast, which might be crucial signs conveyed to Massoud's heart of the immanence of his love and desire, and an evocation of his fate to which his mind itself, however vainly forewarned, could make no protest. In short she readied herself as for an Oscar-winning performance, by an actress who has just taken on the role of her career, which might make or break her.

She waited for Massoud that morning like a black widow spider waiting at the center of her web for either prey or paramour, ready to devour whatever might come her way. Then she heard heavy steps approaching and turned her back to the door, ready to chant a ghazal in the middle of which she might feign to be taken by surprise as an opening gambit. But when the heavy door swung open it was not her anticipated prey but her nemesis Colonel Moussavi:

"It appears that you have undergone a slight apostasy since our last meeting!" intoned the insulting Colonel.

"Whatever are you insinuating, my dear Colonel?" she gave back to him in an equally hostile tone.

"I mean simply that Captain Massoud informs me that since our last meeting you have changed your religion, and seen the truth of our own Islam. You will forgive me if I remain incredulous as I have followed your career with the Baron at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's from the tabloids and Internet and had known you as a firm Anglican alongside the Baron. But I should not be surprised to see a ship-o-war flying a flag of convenience from time to time, though I would have thought the Skull-and–Crossbones would be a more appropriate banner for you!" he chided in a snide tone.

"I am afraid I cannot make out your meaning, Colonel" she responded, showing him the length of her nose.

"I take it as the simple truth that you have no religion at all; and I like that in candor better than a muddled hypocrisy, though I would hold you a peg above rank atheism and opportunism; I take it to be nearer the truth that you simple and plainly worship yourself." he retorted.

"I can assure you of my complete indifference, either to the questions at issue or to your opinions." replied her ladyship.

"Well indifferent you may be, but we have our eyes on your machinations; if you think this little charade will help you escape I hope to inform you you are sadly mistaken—Good Day!...Milady!" he said departing.

By and by lunch was served, of which her ladyship drooled in hunger, yet left untouched as a prop in support of working up her greatest role of suffering and seduction. Silence again prevailed; and three more hours elapsed. At last, approaching the dinner hour, her ladyship heard the familiar stride-tones of Mossoud's footsteps approaching, followed by others.

The young al-Quds Captain ordered the door opened, and directed the orderlies to place the dinner tray upon the table and remove the untouched lunch. Her ladyship was found engaged in prayers—prayers she had picked up and emulated from an old devout Muslim servant in the mansion of the Baron. She appeared in her devotions to be in a sort of state of religious ecstasy, and not even to observe what or who was passing around her. Massoud, after watching her transfixed for several moments, made a sign to the attendants that she was not to be disturbed and motioned them out of the room with his hand. He softly left the room behind them, and as the guard moved closed the door on its grinding hinges.

Her ladyship knew that she would be clandestinely watched, and so continued acting out the prayers and devotions to their appointed end. She calculated that the door-guard, as he had broken off his accustomed pacing, must have stopped at a peephole to observe her, probably as a private spy of the Colonel. She acted her part with the stage-presence of a professional.

An hour later the orderly returned to take away the untouched dinner tray. Her ladyship continued reading her Quran and took no notice, but from a glance in the mirror noted that Captain Massoud had not accompanied him. As the door closed behind her a smile broke out upon her lips: He was afraid, then, of seeing her too often!— the harpoon and its counterbarb were sunk deep and fast then, into his heart and flesh, and the great white fish could but twist vainly, strangling and entangling itself further on its own line and net! She turned her head aside to smile; for there was so much triumph in that smile that had it been observed by a clandestine watcher it might have betrayed her, and never was she one, never, to blunder as she followed the bleeding spoor of a wounded prey to the exposed jugular for the final kill.

Her ladyship let an hour pass in silence and then she again broke out into her songs of lamentation and the ghazals which she had learned as a performer in her youth in South Asia. Pausing between two ghazals she went and stood before the mirror, and gazed upon herself. Never had she been more beautiful. "Oh, yes" she said smiling triumphantly into her own gleaming eyes, "...he will help me...he cannot help himself! He can do none other."

She continued singing and praying another hour. The sentinel on duty stopped off his pacing, silent, seemingly transfixed as to stone. Her ladyship judged by that the effect which her pathos-laden singing had had. Then she continued her sad and world-weary, plaintive incantations with a fervor and feeling that was indescribable. It seemed as though the reverberating tenor of her voice diffused itself off the dour walls of the prison walkways and surged forward, a magical charm potent enough to melt the hearts of her oppressors. Finally the sentinel just outside the door lost patience and thrust open the door of his own vexation and shouted at her:

"Be silent madam! Your wailing is disturbing the entire cell block!"

But just then, came a contradicting voice of command, clearly that of Captain Massoud, upbraiding the soldier:

"You! At ease! Do not disturb the lady in her prayers! Your orders are but to prevent her escape and not to control the prayers of the prisoners!" he barked with a high tone of compressed irritation."

"Yes, sir!" responded the subaltern, whom he motioned away with his hand.

Thereafter, Captain Massoud entered her room softly, closing the door behind him. Her ladyship remained kneeling on her prayer rug, moving her lips: "O Allah the Compassionate and Most Merciful! Thou knowest for what sacred cause I suffer: Give me strength, therefore to bear the trials which I must suffer."

Her back to the door, facing the window as she chanted her prayers, interspersed with stanzas sung from the ghazals, she heard clearly each footstep he took as he drew closer to her; the beautiful suppliant pretended not to notice his approach and in a voice almost choked with tears, she continued:

"O Allah the Avenger! O Allah Most Just and Merciful! Will you permit the ungodly designs of these evil men to undo me, your servant? Wilt not Thou deliver me from these godless plotters?"

Then only did she appear to start from the presence of the young officer, his boot drawing within sight of her prayer rug; and then only rising as quickly as thought, did she blush full in the face, as though she were ashamed at being seen on her knees.

"Forgive me, Milady. I do not like to interrupt those who are at their prayers." he said.

"How do you know that I was praying? You are mistaken sir—I was not praying." she responded in a voice choked with sobs.

"Do you think that I would allow myself or my men to disturb a fellow-creature from throwing herself at the feet of Allah, her Creator? God forbid! Besides, whatever your misdeeds or sins in the past that may have brought you here, Allah and the Prophet hold repentance becoming, and a sinner prostrate before God, whatever may be past, is sacred in my eyes!" he answered her in a torn voice.

"Misdeeds! Sins!" replied the lady, with a smile that would have disarmed the angel at the Day of Judgment, "God Allah alone knows what I am, and God Allah, who loves martyrs, sometimes permits the innocent to be unjustly condemned for love of their martyrdom. But if I die innocent and abused, rest assured that God Allah the Avenger shall wreak his justice with a vengeance after me, or he will send me a deliverer to take me from the hands of these plotting unbelievers and hypocrites to do his Will!"

"Were you innocent, were you condemned falsely, then you would have all the more reason to commune with your God, and I myself would assist you with my prayers" he replied.

"O you are a good man!" she sobbed into her handkerchief before her face. "I can no longer restrain myself, forgive the frailty of a weak woman failing in strength; I must endure this trial for Allah's sake, but I do not have the strength of the Prophet or of Ali but only the weak flesh of a woman, a woman in despair. They deceive you in all that they tell you of me Captain, but that is not the point; I only ask one favor of your kindness as a servant of Allah; and if you grant it Allah will bless you in heaven in the world to come."

"If it were in my power to release or pardon you, whatever you may have done, if it were Allah's will and just I would surely do it with joy, but Milady, I can only remind you that I am but a soldier bound to follow orders; for the working of justice in your case you must address yourself to my superiors."

"Your superiors—it would be vain to address your Colonel and those corrupt men surrounding our Supreme Leader who have misled and deceived him, you have heard how they insult me with unjust contempt. No, I address only you as a man and as a man before a just God, Allah." intoned the lady in the pathos of supplication, her eyes so full of tears and feeling, looking upwards from upon her knees into his own.

"I cannot understand what you mean." he said, turning his back to her with an effort to control is torn emotions,"

"No! You understand, and must understand. To be still and silent and to do nothing in such a circumstance would be an act of complicity in God's eyes, and would cause you to contribute to my destruction and my shame."

"No, Milady, please. By my honour as an officer and a soldier, by my duty I cannot allow myself to understand what you suggest." he replied, turning his back to her, unable to speak these words while looking into her eyes.

"My dear and noblest Captain Massoud!" she intoned in her most plaintive tones, throwing herself again at his feet, her eyes full and lambent looking upwards beseechingly into his own so that he could avoid neither them nor the earthquake of emotions which they evoked, "If you will not assist me to escape these wicked men, then I ask only that you deliver to my hands the means of avoiding dishonor from the filth of their impious hands, give me a knife, a rope, a gun that I might take my own life in holy self-martyrdom and deny them the power to dishonor my frail body and my God, Allah!"

He looked away from her silently.

"Sir," she said, "be good—be righteous—be merciful and hear my prayers! Save my honour, that is all I ask of you, generous sir. O hear me to the end! See! I embrace your knees! I do not wish you harm—how could I? —you, the only just, and good, and merciful and compassionate being I have still to turn to in my life! If you cannot deliver me, all I ask is one minute and a knife to sever my veins in the bath, give me this one small thing and you would have saved my honour!"

"To kill yourself?" exclaimed the emotionally stricken young Captain, in a tone of great terror and horror, "I cannot contemplate it, no, could not allow it."

"I trust to Allah's mercy—by Allah's will deliver me from these evil plotters." She repeated.

Massoud remained silent and motionless, standing irresolute in the confusion of his mixed passion.

"He still doubts me" she complained silently to herself, looking at his well-muscled back turned upon her, "my performance has not been true enough to the character I am acting."

Just then, a ruckus of sound was heard at the far end of the corridor, announcing the changing of the guard and the barking voice of the Colonel.

Young Captain Massoud, pale as a corpse, stood for some seconds intensely listening; then when the sound turned the opposite corner and seemed to go off in another direction he breathed like a man awakening from a dream, and rushed out of the room.

The Fifth Day of Imprisonment

The routine of the fifth day of the Baroness' imprisonment carried on much as during the four days prior. The orderlies came and went with their trays and bustled quietly with their cleaning up. The personal maid in the burkah came and assisted her with her bath and hair, exchanging clean clothes for soiled ones. The maid, as might be expected of a prison worker, was coarse and brusque, commanding the Baroness to remove her underthings more quickly and with no sensitivity to her privacy or self-respect, items which were generally forgotten in such an environment. She was a simple girl, moderately good looking beneath her burkah, and though she bore her ladyship no malice, she assumed the normal tone of mild command which all prison warders habitually direct towards the prisoners. Her ladyship complied grudgingly with a defiant gaze of unspoken resentment which she habitually directed at anyone who failed to acknowledge their own self-evident inferiority before her, let alone dare to make affectations of command. The sound of the guards incessant pacing outside the steel door continued, and then changed like clockwork at the appointed intervals. Her ladyship paced backwards and forwards when alone, then primed and prompted herself before the mirror at intervals. When footsteps led her to believe that anyone of consequence was approaching she placed herself upon her imagined chalk-mark like a consummate actress making an entrance or starting a stage-scene on cue. From time to time for effect she would sing her plaintive ghazals or call out in prayer, taking the cue of anyone's approach to intensify her singing and wailing for effect.

She waited for her venom to work upon the body and mind of the young Captain. She knew it would take time for him to come to terms with himself. She knew one part of him, a former moribund self, would resist, tighten its grip upon his accustomed discipline and moral feelings, then struggle mortally with that emergent self, infused with a passion and desire becoming hourly more and more unrestrainable, which gestated below his conflicted consciousness; she knew that this new and impassioned self, writhing in blind passion, would at last accept the unconditional surrender of that former self, which it would slough off with the unfeeling of a snake towards the shedded dead skin which can no longer contain its living flesh. It could only be a matter of time.

Following lunch, in the slumbering hours, she heard steps, lighter and more agile than the heavy-booted steps of the guard, approaching from the far end of the corridor. She was quick to resume her place upon her prayer rug, and to resume the solemn and plaintive intonations of prayer and of the unearthly ghazals which reached so high upon her vocal registers.

"It is him" she whispered to herself as she knelt, and began the same religious strains and songful intonations which had so violently excited Massoud on the previous evening.

But although her soft, sonorous and full-breasted voice now thrilled the air more touchingly and more harmoniously than ever before, the steel door remained closed. As she knelt and sang, rising from a bowing prostration, her ladyship cast a furtive glance into the dresser mirror, which she had swiveled exactly into the position by which she might observe the doorway without herself appearing to take notice of anything other than her grief and prayers. It did indeed appear to her ladyship that a shadow of a face was fixed behind the grating and peep-hole of the door, a face marked with the fiery and ardent eyes of a young man; but whether this were a reality or a vision on her part, he had at least sufficient self-control, on this occasion, to keep himself from bursting in.

Yet a few moments after the conclusion of her most expressive ghazal, her ladyship fancied that she heard a deep sigh, and the same steps which she had heard approaching the door, she heard retiring slowly, in starts and stops, and as it were, with reluctance.

The Sixth Day of Imprisonment

When Massoud entered the room the next day he found her ladyship standing upon a chair and reaching upward toward the hanging lamp fixture and rafter above her. In her hand she held a cord which she had fabricated by tearing the sheets and bedclothes into strips and twisting them. At one end of the cord was the opening of a well tied noose. As he entered the door she pretended to be startled and thrust the length of improvised rope behind her back in a motion she hoped would be taken as instinctive fear, but which in fact she had rehearsed several times during the night. She had timed her movements by the sound of the footsteps echoing towards her from the long prison hallway, and in fact she had been piqued that Massoud had paused to speak to the guard before entering, leaving her looking rather foolish standing on her chair awaiting the final stage-cue for the last several minutes.

"What are you doing?" shouted the young Captain with the voice of authority undermined by a plaintive note of fear as he angrily tore the makeshift cord from her hands.

"Ah, I was just trying to adjust this lamp so that it would not hurt my eyes" she lied clumsily, assured that she could not be believed.

"With a noose?" shouted back Massoud, now angry that she could even think to take away that person now so dear to him. "I forbid this! In the name of God I forbid it!" he shouted into her lowered face.

With that she began to weep, a deep and frantic weeping which she had rehearsed many times in the past as the surest way to gain a grip on a sentimental and naive young man's heart. She fell to the floor weeping and seemed to lose control of herself. He called to her but she did not seem to notice him. Writhing on the ground in her tears and convulsions she seemed like the victim of an epileptic fit, so overwhelming was the onrush of emotion and despair over her prostrate body.

"Milady! Please!—Please stop Milady" he groaned over her, losing control of himself in his feeling for her to allow himself to brush aside the disheveled mat of hair which covered her face and might have hampered her breathing, but lost in her convulsions she remained apparently unconscious of his entreaty.

He then rushed to the door and summoned both the guard and the maid in the burkah who awaited his orders outside. He instructed the maid to comfort and revive her while he himself hastened to the infirmary to summons the doctor. When he returned her ladyship still languished on the floor, heavily heaving and moaning, and he assisted the doctor and maid in moving her into the bed, where the maid loosened her garments and the doctor injected her with a hypodermic of sedative. He ordered the maid in the burkah to sit by her and summons him should any change occur. He also ordered the doctor, who was going off duty, to leave a syringe of sedative with him in case she should become again overly agitated.

As the day wore on the young al-Quds Captain looked in on the sedated patient every hour or two, each time asking the maid in the burkah how she had been. The maid, who noticed how unaccountably distraught the Captain was over the lady's distress answered each time that the patient had not awoken but seemed to shift and turn and moan at intervals, and that she had applied a cold compress to her forehead when she seemed particularly uneasy. In fact her ladyship had shaken off the drug after a couple of hours and continued her performance for the Captain's benefit, taking advantage of the bathos of her supposed helpless unconscious sufferings to create a heightened impact on her audience of one.

At dinner time he accompanied the orderly bringing in the tray of food and again inquired of the maid in the burkah if she had recovered. She replied that she had briefly regained some alertness, then sunk again into her apparent delirium. Thereupon the Captain dismissed the orderly and ordered the maid to take two hours for dinner and some rest and to come back again in the evening.

No sooner had the pair of underlings removed themselves from the room than the Captain sat next to his now adored ladyship and to comfort her low moans, and supposing her unconsciousness, allowed himself to stroke the side of her brow and the sleeping storm of flowing disheveled hair upon the pillow. Her ladyship, far from unconscious, however, had followed their every movement from the sounds of their footsteps and had noted precisely when she would be alone with the enamored young man. Naturally, she acted out a perfect scene of delirium, soulful suffering, unconsciousness and a return to life in her lover's hands reminiscent of the trials of a helpless Sleeping Beauty revived in the arms of an adoring Prince Charming.

"My darling Captain!" she moaned into his ear as she allowed her eyelids to first flutter into pre-wakefulness before his adoring eyes, seeming to kiss his comforting hand in her burdened unconsciousness in a still unconscious confession of love. Then, pretending to be startled into awakening with a start, she looked up vacantly and asked "Where am I?"

"Be calm Milady," he intoned into her blushing ear imploringly, "I am with you and you are safe; you were ill. But you must promise me you will never do anything again so stupid as what you attempted this morning."

"My darling" she whispered back to him with a moan of imploring emotion, "You are so good and kind. But do you think my life worth living in this condition? If you cannot help me get away from here then let me die. At least then I shall have some honour, if not my life. I tell you if you cannot help then I cannot make any promises that I will not renew my attempt."

"No!" he said forcefully yet pleadingly, clasping her soft hand in his own soldierly one, "I will not let you, I cannot allow you to do such a thing."

"Then you will help me, yes?" she gushed, opening her eyes to their widest, her pupils dilated, and setting them so imploringly beneath the level of his own in womanly supplication.

"Yes, yes, yes!" he shouted, half in love and half in anger, betraying a loss of self control that sent a concealed rush of triumph into the pulsing blood of her ladyship.

After that she feigned a slow recovery of her strength and gave in to his pleading to take some food, which she hungrily gulped down, having for the sake of the role refused when she was in truth famished. She shared the tea with the Captain and some bread, and kissed his hand in thankfulness when he handed her some sweet cake. Then she leaned further towards his ear and whispered to him what he must do.

An hour later the maid in the burkah's footsteps were heard approaching in the corridor. Her ladyship resumed her position in the bed and feigned a restless unconsciousness. The Captain then ordered the orderly to clear away the dishes and left her in the charge of the maid, instructing her to call him if her condition should take a change for the worse. An hour later the maid rang the buzzer and the Captain entered, to observe a scene in which her ladyship was consumed in a violent fit of delirium, shouting in an unconscious babble and like a somnambulist striking out at the maid as she tried to restrain her and prevent her from writhing and falling from the bed. The young Captain, observing the maid's struggle with the bodily fits of her ladyship, took out the syringe of sedative, strode haltingly towards the bed and thrust the needle of the syringe into the woman's arm.

The arm into which he thrust the syringe and pushed its plunger, emptying a triple-strength dose into the vein, was not however, that of the Baroness but the arm of the maid in the burkah! She looked up into his eyes with a questioning squeal and moan. He then pushed her backward into the easy chair beside the bed and the Baroness jumped up with a triumphant though silent smile stretched across her lips as she gazed down commandingly above the girl, whose own eyes were drooping into unconsciousness.

"Quick!" she whispered with a low but commanding voice to the young officer, "go into the corridor and make sure no one comes. I will change clothes with the girl and put on the burkah, covering my face, and then put her into the bed in my clothes. I'll cover her face with a wet cloth in case anyone looks in. You order your car to come around to pick us up and then walk me out the gate as if I were the maid. Then we must get across the border as quickly as possible."

Luckily, the maid's burkah was quite ample, even tent-like, so that although the Baroness was a bit larger than the girl the burkah fit well and the Baroness could slump a bit so that no one would notice the small difference in height.

The Baroness quickly tossed off her own garments then stood in her underthings above the unconscious body of the maid, which the Captain had lifted onto the bed before leaving. She rolled the slumbering limbs back and forth to remove the burkah, and they splayed across the sheets akimbo. Then the Baroness looked down at the naked body of the prison maid with a cold sneer, her eyes taking in the full length of the female form before her. She felt a wince of contempt as she took in the helplessness of the person who had so recently presumed to order her about, but also felt a palpable attraction to her body, which was surprisingly beautiful, something that could hardly be guessed beneath the coarse blackness of the heavy burkah's cloth. The thighs were well shaped and the legs graceful. Her face was pretty, but not what one could call beautiful, certainly nothing capable of competing with the exquisite lines of the Baroness' own aristocratic visage. But beneath the burkah were hidden treasures! The young girl's breasts were immaculate, with pert tips that pointed up, like something in the dreams of an unattainable future of Steve McQueen's Eustis and Jackie Gleason's master sergeant, the GI's in the film Soldier in the Rain. The bush between the legs was black, thick and ample. Seeing the exquisite nipples emerge from beneath the burkah as she pulled it off the unconscious girl her own nipples, which were beginning to sag and stretch with age, involuntarily hardened against her own will. Then the Baroness pulled the pure-black burkah over her own head and shoulders, cladding herself in a shroud of darkness by lifting the black hood over her head, careful to use a scarf to completely cover her own hair beneath it and to draw the face-veil across all but her fiery eyes. This enclosure of blackness was warm and inviting to her. Then gazing again at the naked girl her eye caught the small zip-bag from the doctor's kit in which he had left the tranquilizing sedative syringes with the Captain. She looked inside and found another syringe full of tranquilizer and she quickly injected the girl again with a double-dose, possibly putting her in danger of an overdose. The girl moaned as the drug hit her bloodstream and then fell into a deeper and laxer unconsciousness. Then she took out a pair of scissors, and, pinching one gorgeous nipple with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and pulling up strongly, neatly snipped it off; then she snipped the other with a suppressed laugh caught in her throat, the unconscious body of the helpless girl spasming involuntarily against the pain. "Next time you will remember to treat your betters with more respect" she sneered at her in a low husky voice of triumph as she condescended to tape a gauze bandage from the doctor's kit-bag to each breast to slow the bleeding, then slipped her own nightdress and nightcap over the body, finally drawing the quilt high upon the neck and placing a wet towel over the forehead to conceal her features.

Then she heard the young Captain's footsteps approaching along the corridor. She slipped her own pocketbook inside the maid's bag and turned to rush to the door to meet Massoud. Then, as if remembering something, she turned back to the bed again. With a quick step she reached again the bedstand and opened the coinpurse of her own bag. Into its open mouth she placed each of the severed nipples, as if they were the small change which she had momentarily forgotten to pick up on paying with hundred pound notes at a fashion shop. Then she rushed with the unaccustomed rustle of the heavy burkah to join the Captain at the door, his eyes gleaming with the reckless intensity of the hopeless hope of a man who has surrendered everything to a passion which he knows he cannot control, and which he knows will hurtle him across a bleak abyss, a leap into nothingness, into a future fraught of danger, perhaps fatal, riding a car careening through the overwhelming tracked-turnings of a roller-coaster gone mad.

The First Day of Escape

When the changing of the guard for the morning shift took place nothing unusual had been noted. The new guard had looked in through the peephole and seen the woman sleeping. It was not until breakfast was brought by the day orderly and the day maid tried to rouse the prisoner that it was discovered that in fact the prisoner had escaped and left the drugged night maid in her place. Colonel Moussavi was immediately summoned. A complete lockdown was signaled by the resounding sirens of the prison and a search was made everywhere to no avail. Colonel Moussavi instantly rang up Captain Massoud at his quarters but was unable to locate him. Two hours later, piecing together the facts and searching through numerous video recordings of the hallways, prison entrances and adjoining street traffic, it became clear that Massoud had left the prison with the maid in the burkah ten hours ago, and that woman must have been the Baroness. The Colonel was struck dumb, first with unbelief, and then with rage and disappointment at this betrayal by the young man he had come to regard almost as his own son. This woman was more than a witch, she was a she-fiend!

Colonel Moussavi put the entire security service on immediate alert. He ordered immediate armed watches maintained at all the border crossings and put out an all points bulletin with the face of the Baroness designated for immediate capture, dead or alive. He withheld, however, any arrest warrant for Captain Massoud, as he hoped he might be found or repent, and Moussavi inwardly blamed himself for having thrown the young Quds-Captain, almost his son, into the way of temptation which might have been beyond the good boy's strength to resist. Three hours later, an inventory of the motor pool of the Quds Force of the Revolutionary Guards showed that an army light-truck with military license plates was missing. A computer search of the hard discs of the video surveillance cameras at the toll statios of the principal roads leading to the border turned up the numbers of the truck on the main highway towards Iraq. An all points bulletin was issued to stop and seize the vehicle, but an hour later it was found abandoned in a wood not far from a railway station near Arak on the line to Khoramshahr. A consultation of the timetable showed that the train would have already passed through Ahvaz, and would be following the newly re-opened Khoramshahr-Basra international rail link. Colonel Moussavi put out the order to stop the train before it crossed the border and rushed in his staff-car to the nearby military airport where he would board a fast jet to Ahvaz and have a military helicopter-gunship waiting to take him to Khoramshahr at the Iran-Iraq border. He donned his military sidearm and left immediately, accompanied by his three closest aides and sixteen Quds-Force Special Services commandos. He radiod the train but there was no connection—either there was equipment failure or a microwave shadow along the line or perhaps Massoud and the bitch had managed to take control of the train by force. By his calculations they could still get there just before the train could pass over the border.

The military transport to Ahvaz made good time and the strike-force shifted to the six waiting assault-helicopters waiting on the tarmac. However over the passes to Khoramshahr a violent dust-storm hampered their progress. Looking down over the Khoramshahr terrain Colonel Moussavi had an involuntary flashback to the fighting there in 1982 when he was a Lieutenant of Commandos of the newly formed assault unit of the Revolutionary Guards. He had operated behind enemy lines to the west of Basra for three months blowing up supply trains and troop trucks. Then, in the Iran-Iraq war the carnage had been equivilant to the insane slaughter in the trenches of WWI, and the chaos and lack of supplies and equipment and medical care had been the end of tens of thousands, many of whose faces he still held in involuntary memory as he flew over the past scenes of slaughter or of fiasco. He had never wanted to come back here. Where were the years gone? Where were the souls of the dead gone? In Qom he could regain his belief, but looking down over the still scarred landscape of Khoramshahr a hardened part of him could not avoid the soldier's wondering if it was all a fairy-tale that they had fought and died for.

When the gunship reached the border-crossing the train was already stopped on the Iranian side of the border. The local border guards had been alerted at the last minute and a convoy of armed police trucks of the Revolutionary Guards were searching the train. Colonel Moussavi stepped out of the helicopter and joined the local commander in making their way from car to car. The local commander reported that another Quds-Force commander from the capital, a Captain, had preceeded him in searching the train and suspected that the fleeing prisoner had already jumped from the train and had gone in pursuit of her to the Iraqi side while his men made a more thourough search of the halted train. Moussavi could have ordered the commandos to overtake the Captain, but he kept silent about his role. If they could find the woman he would let the young Massoud escape to Iraq rather than force him to face trial and execution for treason in Teheran. Suddenly, one of the commandos reported that they found the body of a woman in a burkah locked in the women's toilet on the last car! The Colonel approached the lavatory and pushed open the door. The woman sat on the toilet, face veiled, a stream of blood running down the length of the burkah and pooling onto the floor below. Strange! Thought Colonel Moussavi, he would never have thought the Baroness capable of suicide; he always took her for a hardened survivor—but he had seen enough of war, especially here at Khoramshahr, to know that our ideas of what human beings are or are not capable of are highly flawed. Still, he wanted to see the dead face of the bitch who had done the mischief, especially since she had cost him one of his best officers, almost a son to him. Moussavi raised his hand to undo the burkah's veil to confirm the death. So ingrained was his distrust that he kept his other hand on his pistol-grip. Damn! Pulling down the veil he saw the insensate face of Massoud, eyes fixed open glaring in death, his jugular vein severed, dying the death of an un-man in women's clothes. The bitch! Moussavi shouted aloud involuntarily, as he ordered the Quds commandos on the run back to the assault-helicopters.

A call from the local commander to his counterpart on the Iraqi side confirmed that the "Captain" had already been received on the Iraqi side of the border, and revealed herself as the Baroness Maddox. Within minutes she had been in telephone contact with the British/American allied military command in Baghdad and had demanded to be taken to the British military liaison attached to the British consulate in Basra. Despite her lack of documents and the Iranian demand for her return strings had been pulled and Iraqi border post reported that she was already en route in a Hummer on the road to Basra and that there was nothing they could do at this point.

Aboard the helicopter gunship the local commander informed Moussavi, and apologized profusely that she had been allowed to escape, although he assured the Colonel that everything possible had been done. The darkness of night began to spread itself across the horizon as the last rays of sunset melted away behind the low-lying hills, and the shadows deepened and darkened across the desertscape.

"Save your apologies, Captain, she is not going to get away." Moussavi replied curtly.

"But sir, she is already across the border." he responded.

"I don't give a damn if she is in hell, which is where I will send her. I am bringing her back." he shouted as he took over the controls of the gunship. "All units follow me!" he blurted over the radio to the other gunships.

"But sir, if we violate Iraqi airspace we may be shot down, or it may be war. That would be a violation of International Law, not to speak of orders, you cannot follow."

"I take full responsibility, Captain. There is a law above International Law, above orders, even. That evil thing shall not escape. I operated behind Iraqi lines for three months during the war and I know every kilometer of the terrain and roads between here and Basra. We can sneak in under their radar following the ridgeline along Qaryat-al-Lukjah. With luck we'll catch her in the defiles before she makes Abu al Khasib on the open road. I don't care if we have to fight. By Allah that she-fiend isn't going to get away!"

Colonel Moussavi followed the terrain and defiles, hiding in the radar shadow of the outcroppings as he had done on missions during the Iran-Iraq war. They took a round-about path, but with speed. Seventeen minutes after crossing the border they cleared the ridgeline and followed the road. Two minutes later, they spotted a jeep and a Hummer speeding towards Basra.

Colonel Moussavi trained the sights of the 20mm cannon on the rear wheels of the lead jeep and squeezed. The gunship juddered with the recoil of the guns. Then the gas tank of the jeep exploded a second later and threw it in a violent somersault onto its back across the ditch, half-blocking the road and half-illuminating the night.

The Hummer swerved, narrowly missing the collision and careened up the opposite embankment, then back down into the road. Moussavi saw two arms and heads emerge from the careening vehicle, looking upward and firing pistols towards the helicopter. One face was clearly covered with the long hair of a woman blown by the wind.

Moussavi followed as the Hummer skidded recklessly around a curve, barely keeping from tipping. Moussavi trained the gunsight upon the rear of the vehicle and squeezed down upon the red firing button. Once again the gunship lurched upwards from the recoil. Below, he could see the back tires of the vehicle shredding and flying into the air as the driver lost control. Then the Hummer smashed into a barrier, tilted upwards on one side, and then came to a violent stop, smashing into an outcropping of rock. Smoke and steam poured from the engine compartment.

Moussavi set the gunship down behind the wreck, ordering the commandos to follow, but to take no chances and shoot to kill if necessary. Sprinting from the gunship to the overturned Hummer Moussavi climbed atop its exposed side, the wheels still spinning, his submachine gun at the ready. Yanking the crumpled door loose he threw it open and peered inside. The driver, a young Iraqi lieutenant lay in the driver's seat covered with blood, his head a pulp of unrecognizable flesh smashed against the windshield, clearly dead.

In the passenger's seat the limp form of a woman hung helplessly from the seat-belt, unconscious and bleeding but still alive, gaping and moaning. Moussavi took his commando knife from his belt and cut her loose from the jammed seat-belt, just as the fire from the engine jumped and flared, threatening to explode.

As the flames burst towards them, he pulled the now half-conscious woman through the broken window, cutting himself badly on the broken glass. Even as he pulled her free from the flames his forearm was suddenly torn with pain as she sank her teeth deep into his flesh.

Enraged, and finally losing control of himself, Colonel Moussavi grasped her by her hair and flung her head into the exposed axle of the burning upturned Hummer, smashing it again and again viciously until she fell limp, the blood gushing from her forehead onto her exposed and blackened breasts.

"Damn your eyes, you devil-bitch!" he screamed in grunting gutturals as he struck again and again, until her flaccid and unconscious body fell to the ground.

Then he sank to his knees, clearly ashamed of his loss of control, wiping his own and her blood from his eyes with a pained grimace. He gave orders, and the commandos tied her limbs with plastic handcuffs and bundled her body into the gunship, binding and gagging her snugly, even then taking no chances.

Then Colonel Moussavi took the controls of the gunship and followed the terrain, ridgelines, defiles, outcroppings and depressions, evading observation or radar contact as he had done so many times in night operations during the war. Their luck held.

The next day, the Baroness was back in Section 209 of Evin Prison, this time minus the comforts of her prior stay and under maximum security, confined in a straight-jacket. Colonel Moussavi reported that Captain Massoud had died in the service of his country attempting to capture a dangerous escaped prisoner, and he was buried with full military honors in the presence of his parents, who were friends of the Colonel's own family. The Iraqi border forces lodged a complaint regarding the death of five of their troops, including one officer, but the Iranian authorities denied any knowledge of the incident, remarking that Al-Qaida had been known to be active in that sector and recommending investigation in that direction as to the fate and whereabouts of the Baroness. Colonel Moussavi, after a day in hospital dressing his wounds, returned to his quarters for a long-awaited sleep.

3

In Fordo, the cave and excavation complex outside of Qom the Supreme Leader also contemplated retiring for the night after dismissing another literary and musical party which had again entertained him. The Supreme Leader for many decades had been a man of strict routine—his attendants swore they could set their watches by his habits of precisely going to sleep and arising at the same time each day. It had not always been so, however, and he recalled how in his twenties as a young man, before he had firmly fixed on his life as a mullah, he had entertained the idea of becoming a poet himself, and he often stayed up half the night writing poetry. In fact he still had three manuscript books of his poetry locked in his private desk, which he had not looked at for years. Recalling to mind Mohammad's previous recitation, at the appointed time for sleep he again felt agitated. He could not understand why he could not lay himself down to sleep. He paced up and down for over an hour and finally set himself down in his nightshirt at his private desk and stared into the night. Then the impulse seized him and he took out the key and unlocked the drawer. He pulled out the aged leather notebooks which contained his three poetry manuscripts: The Confidante, The Decanter of Love and Turning Point, and The Divan. He feverishly re-read the poems which he had inscribed in the flush of his youth and which he had not seen for decades. As he read and read his head grew weary and he picked up the books and carried them to his simple bed. As he continued his reading his eyes drowsed, his head drooped, and he fell into sleep.

He had not dreamed for many years. His habits of regularity and discipline had reduced his sleep to a blank respite. This night, however, he passed into a deep trance of sleep, and from this trance arose a most vivid dream. The Archangel Jibreel, or Gabriel, appeared to him to descend from the heavens in an immense pulsing of incandescent light refracted into all the colours of the rainbow and alight atop Mount Ararat on an immense granite outcropping shaped like the bone of an immense skull. He was greeted by the ancient Sufi poet Jalal al-Din Rumi in his medieval robes. They embraced with brotherly kisses and then both advanced arm in arm towards the Supreme Leader at the opposite face of the peak. The Supreme Leader threw himself to the ground and kissed the hem of Jibreel's celestial garment. The Archangel Jibreel protested this demonstration and raised the Supreme Leader to his feet. He raised him up then kissed him on his lips and cheeks, and the poet Rumi followed the angel's lead and kissed him likewise. Then the Angel informed him that he had come to bear a message for the Supreme Leader from on high—a command and exhortation.

The Supreme Leader once again prostrated himself and recited that the Angel had but to speak and he would instantly obey. "Speak. I do but listen and tremble!" he replied.

The Angel then spake: "This is thy message which I have come to bring Thee: "Open the Gates of Ijtihad—Thou Shalt Open the Gates of Ijtihad." "...And by the Opening of these Sluice-gates of Ijtihad Thou Shalt Release the Infinite Waters and Energies of Ihsan, flowing Spiritual Excellence and Beauty Spilling Forth Productively and Creatively in God, through Allah's Spillways of this Earthly Life," added the Angel. With his message thus delivered the Angel Jibreel again raised the Supreme Leader to his feet and without another word he again kissed the Supreme Leader on the lips, which likewise also repeated the poet Rumi, and then a circle of Angels and attendants bore the Archangel and the Poet away on the Merkabah, the Chariot of Light, into the burstingly illuminant parting heavens in an overpowering effusion of unbearable luminosity. The Supreme Leader fainted into unconsciousness before this miraculous and unendurable sight.

The next morning the Supreme Leader was placed under the care of Colonel Moussavi and his doctor when he had not awoken at his usual hour, causing great anxiety amoung the household staff. They feared that he had suffered a stroke as his body was trembling in his sleep and they could not awaken him for several hours. When they finally were able to raise him from his deep and troubled sleep Colonel Moussavi asked him if he were ill.

The Supreme Leader responded with a strange and ecstatic smile: "On the contrary—I have never been sounder. Something has occurred—something wonderful. I have been visited by an angel and received a message from heaven, even as the Prophets of the Book."

"And may we ask or learn..." queried Colonel Moussavi looking into the amazed and overwhelmed eyes of the Imam, "...what was the meaning of the visit and message?"

"I received a message from on high, face-to-face from the Archangel Jibreel who visited me in this very room in my sleep. The message was this: 'Open the Gates of Ijtihad'...just that...we must 'Open the Gates of Ijtihad.'"

# CHAPTER XV.

### Washington

### High Noon & Showdown at the OK Corral

The busy place in Washington D.C. over the last night was the National Reconnaissance Office, a joint-venture of the CIA and the Pentagon that ran the reconsats, the big camera birds circling the earth at medium to low altitudes, looking down at any and all earthly things with their hugely expensive cameras that rivaled the precision and resolution of the Hubble space telescope. Tipped off by Nightingale's revelations as to the Chinese intentions they had been retasked and repositioned along the entire expanse of the Silk Road, the great route from Xian, home of the ancient Chinese capital and its Terracotta Warriors to Persia, Byzantium and ultimately to Rome. There were now four photo-birds up and in position, each circling the earth every two hours or so and passing over the same spot at least twice each day. There were also two radar-reconnaissance satellites that had much poorer resolution than the Lockheed and TRW made KH-13's but which could see through clouds day and night. This was important because a cold front had seized the expanse of the continent from the Urals to Beijing, making it difficult to track troop movements. This was an immense frustration to the NRO satellite jocks who prided themselves on their precision but who were now reduced to weather forcasters predicting when the skies would clear enough to get accurate visuals again. Luckily they could rely on the "take" from the Lacrosse radar-intelligence birds since that was the only game in town at the moment.

And the game was hot. Visuals from inside China showed every railway line crammed with troop trains, logistics and supply trains heading towards the rail links westward out of Xinjiang and northwards across the Russian rails and heading across the modern successor of the old Silk Road towards Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and the Iranian border. The Lacrosse radar feeds from below the cloud-cover showed another frightening story, however. Clothed by the secrecy of the overcast sky through which the obsolescent Russian photo-satellites could not penetrate, the radar take showed the diversion of substantial portions of the Iran-bound Chinese forces to jumping-off points along the Russian border, and occupying key points within Russia itself. Already a logistic tail was being assembled rapidly behind them in support for immediate action. The Lacrosse radars were now just revealing the first mass crossing of the Chinese armored reserve armies onto Russian soil and their overwhelming of the thin Russian border defense across Siberia.

The take from Iran was no less spectacular. For the last ten days the KH-13 visuals had shown a constant build-up of Iranian forces along the Iraqi border, particularly along the coastal approaches to the Faw peninsula leading on to Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, accompanied by a build-up of amphibious forces along the coast down to the Straits of Hormuz. Now there was a dramatic shift of forces back towards the capital Teheran and forward towards the Turkmenistani and Azerbadjaini borders through which the SCO forces had secured transit routes through to the Iranian border.

As Admiral Orwell examined the "take" he gathered the impressions of the NRO technicians as well as his key senior intelligence advisors, including Joel Barlow who had returned to Washington with the British Prime Minister and C, the head of MI6 recently returned from Moscow, for the Washington Emergency Summit. Admiral Orwell, C and Barlow pored over the Nightingale texts as they correlated them with the satellite overheads coming into the NRO operations center and spun out their best estimates of what was happening on the ground. The consensus after reviewing the Nightingale revelations was that the Chinese-Russian-Iranian Axis was beginning to crumble before the drive on the Saudi oilfields would be consummated and that the Chinese would therefore probably divert to their back-up plan. The change of heart of the Supreme Leader of Iran signaled by his overnight still-not-yet-public communication to Washington proposing a deal for the release of the hostages plus the shift of forces from the southward invasion routes into Kuwait and Saudi Arabia confirmed that the Chinese were most likely proceeding towards their secondary objective: the seizure of Siberia up to the Urals with its vast energy and mineral resources so badly needed by their voraciously growing economy and long ago claimed as rightfully theirs by their Qing and Yuan Dynasty predecessors. Admiral Orwell lifted the telephone and connected to the National Military Command Center, the NMCC, in the Pentagon and briefed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. NATO forces were put on full readiness alert and pre-positioned for transport through Eastern Europe into Russia and points East. All air forces were readied for possible deployment to the Russian Theater within 48 hours. Then he dialed the Situation Room at the White House and arranged to have the feeds set up on the "Big Board" for briefing the President in one hour.

The President was just disembarking from Air Force One returning from a crucial visit to NATO Headquarters in Brussels, Belgium at which he had met with the assembled heads of government who had not yet joined him for the emergency summit in Washington. POTUS, the President of the United States flanked by his Secret Service entourage then made the trot from Air Force One to the waiting helicopter, Marine One, for the short hop to the White House. After the usual ten minutes it set them down on the White House landing pad on the South Lawn and the First Lady of the United States, FLOTUS, unusually walked into the residential section of the mansion alone, POTUS being diverted by his staff to the left towards the West Wing, but to the Situation Room rather than the Oval Office. Admiral Orwell was waiting for him, along with Joel Barlow and C, accompanied by Etienne Dearlove.

"All right, where are we gentlemen?" the President asked.

"Mr. President we have some good news and some bad news." responded Admiral Orwell.

"OK, I am an optimist at heart so give me the good news first." he replied.

"The good news is that we have confirmation the Iranians are backing down, if we can give them some assurances that there will be no nuclear or other attack on them. The bad news is that we are getting satellite overheads confirming that the Chinese have moved to their back-up plan and have already moved their forces to the jump-off points ready to execute their move on Siberia."

"And the Russians? "

"They are probably unaware of the extent of the Chinese moves since the whole area is blacked out by a cold-front and dense cloud cover which hides it from their obsolescent satellites. Our Lacrosse radars have picked up the Chinese movements under the weather cover and we are standing by for your orders on whether we share it with the Russians and commit ourselves to their aid." responded the Director of National Intelligence.

"Well I've just come back from Brussels and the emergency meeting of the heads of government at the NATO Council at NATO headquarters. Essentially we've outlined a new overall strategic mission for NATO, which is to secure the Balance of Power in the Eurasian Continent as a whole, a whole new Mega-Theater of Geopolitical operations. We've agreed that the former mission of NATO to secure the balance of power within Europe, East and West, is obsolete and that now Europe as a whole is just one part of the greater balance of power in Eurasia, including Europe, China, India, Japan, ASEAN and the Middle-East. We have to scale-up the strategic horizon to take into account the new globalized realities and the rise of non-European Eurasian powers. We teleconferenced with the Prime Ministers of Russia, Japan and South Korea and we have extended them a formal offer of full NATO membership—conditional of course on a thorough housecleaning of the old Siloviki camp which has led Russia down this blind alley and a full return to power of Medvedev and the liberals, and a parallel offer of full membership to Japan. We also initialed a Cooperation Agreement and NATO Partner/Observer status for India. We are agreed that unless the Greater Eurasian Balance of Power is effectively secured the future of Europe and any hopes for a greater European Union are in danger of unraveling as outside powers seek to divide and conquer. Ironically but predictably, after the divisions of the sovereign debt and euro crisis, it is the common outside threat that is binding the New NATO and the European Union into a cohesive force in a way that its lukewarm ideals could never accomplish. We are determined that no power can be allowed to gain ascendency over the total Greater Eurasian Supercontinent, and particularly control over its energy supplies as we pass the tipping point of non-OPEC peak oil and gas. Just as the dominance of a Hitler, Stalin or Napoleon or a Ghengis Kahn in the past would in the long run have overwhelmed the West's power to resist, so must counterbalancing power be deployed against any potential hegemon over Eurasia, most pointedly including a rising China. The Great Game for Greater Eurasia is on, gentlemen, much as I regret it, but there is no other choice."

"Then your orders sir?" queried Orwell.

"What is the latest from Nightingale? " asked the President.

"Mr. President, as far as we can tell from Nightingale and our corroborating sources Minister Luo has risen to full supremacy through this intrigue and he has bullied the saner minds into silence. Foreign Minister Tang resisted the adventure at first but with Wen Jiabao out of action the liberals have folded and buttoned their lips to join the forced consensus. Nightingale fully confirms that the Chinese are fully committed to their move on Siberia as the move on Saudi Arabia by the Axis stalls and the new Lacrosse overheads confirm that they are beginning to move across the border now." Replied Joel Barlow, glancing at C for confirmation and support as he spoke.

"Mr. President," C confirmed, responding to Barlow's glances, "...from our side we wholly confirm what Mr. Barlow has said and we and all the NATO air forces and armies are on full alert and ready to move as soon as we get confirmation from the Russians. My colleague Mr. Dearlove has personal acquaintance with the Chinese principals, including Minister Luo, and his assessment is that he is unlikely to back down once he has committed himself to a venture such as this."

"All right then gentlemen. The decision is mine and I will make it. I want all American and NATO forces moving towards the deployment areas. The Chinese strategic nuclear threat is still credible enough that neither we nor the Russians can risk a nuclear strike without mutual destruction, but the Russians are too weak to resist conventionally alone. We have to move in assistance to them in order to turn back this adventure. Give all our forces at their jumping-off points the "Go" order. " he spoke gravely to those around him all too aware of the heaviness of the decision.

"Yes sir, Mr. President" responded Admiral Orwell heavily.

"Admiral, first brief the Russian Prime Minister's staff on their hotline of what we know and ask for confirmation. I will then speak directly to the Prime Minister and confirm our plans to move our forces. Second, get me the Chinese President on the hotline and I am personally going to tell him what we know from the satellites and demand that he back down off this adventure or suffer the consequences. Third, get me the NATO commander and Secretary General and let's confirm the execution of our Standby Plan."

"Done, Mr. President." barked back Orwell.

For the next 72 hours Joel Barlow found himself glued to the Situation Room following the fast moving events. The President went public with the crisis and announced the decision accepting Russia, South Korea and Japan into full membership in NATO. The calls to the Chinese President went unanswered by him, but the clear message delivered that they must call off their adventure into Siberia went unheeded, Minister Luo Chunwang responding over the hotline in his Oxford English that the days in which the West dictated terms to China were over and that the unequal treaties dictated to a helpless China in the past would no longer be considered valid. "China has risen" he declared, paraphrasing Mao Zedong on the founding of the People's Republic and confirming the worst fears of Napoleon.

Next the President announced the movement of Air Force contingents into Russia by the NATO forces over the next 48 hours. The Russian Prime Minister addressed his nation and announced the resignations of the principal Siloviki ministers and confirmed that Premiere Medvedev would arrive in Moscow from Teheran the next day to take full command of the government. The nation was put on a full war footing and all forces were mobilized to meet the invasion from the east. NATO aircraft began to arrive at the advance bases to the east of the Urals and were crucial in establishing air supremacy over the theatre in aid of the hardly pressed Russian air defenses. The NATO armored, attack helicopter and mechanized forces began to flow into the Russian East, not without casualties from the Chinese air attacks along the long, fragile and exposed rail links running from European Russia on to the Russian Far East.

The next day being the first Sunday after the crisis broke, the President organized a televised prayer service, video-linked to all of the allied capitals, and featuring an inter-faith array of the most authoritative and telegenic religious personas, Bishops, Chief Rabbis, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Grand Muftis, Bodhisattvas and an assortment of religious icons. Even the Pope made a video-linked appearance from the Vatican offering a prayer for restored world peace and order. President Osama acted as master of ceremonies and called for blessings and prayers for the brave men and women forced into harm's way by the crisis. Etienne and C, still at the operations center at the White House, took time to attend, then retired to their quarters at the end of the ceremonies. Over their private lunch afterwards C, having noticed Etienne's coolness during the ceremonies, asked him for his personal impression. Etienne responded with a frankness which might have been surprising, had he not known of C's idealistic radicalism in his very distant youth:

"Off the record, I am appalled by the jingoism and the self-righteousness of the whole thing, even if it is the internationalized jingoism of a crusader NATO. I am not shocked that the churches condoning war, as many people profess to be—nearly always people who are unbelievers themselves, I notice. If you accept government in the modern age, you accept war, and if you accept war you must in most cases desire one side or the other to win, unsurprisingly most often one's own side or that of those most closely related to oneself. I can never work up too much disgust over the bishops', rabbis' and mullahs' blessings of the regimental colors etc. All that kind of thing is founded on the sentimental idea that fighting is incompatible with loving one's enemies. Actually, you can only love one's enemies if you are willing to kill them in certain circumstances. But what is disgusting about the religious services in aid of the war is the total lack of perspective, the total absence of any kind of self-criticism. Apparently, God is expected to bless us on the ground that we really are better than our enemies. This kind of stock prayer of the padres asks god "to turn the hearts of our enemies and to help us forgive them, to give them repentance for their misdeeds and evils, and instill in them a readiness to make amends." Of course there is nothing about God turning our hearts or of us giving repentance for our sins and our selfishnesses, or of making amends for our abuses of others. To me any honest religious perspective for the clerics would be to admit that, by and large, we are no better than our enemies, we are all miserable sinners blinded by our own prejudices, our selfish loyalties and our own obfuscated and rationalized aggressive instincts, but that it so happens that the world would be marginally better off if our side prevailed, and therefore it would be legitimate to pray for this. I suppose they don't do this judging it would be bad for morale if the people and its soldiers admitted the other side has a case against us of some substantial validity, a psychological error in my opinion as almost always in intellectual matters an ounce of inoculation will forestall a later collapse in crisis. But perhaps the bishops take delight with the generals in their self-righteous yak-yak—'Onwards (Christian, Muslim, Jewish—Fill in the Blank) soldiers!'—the thrill of the cause and the command seducing, and up goes the barrage of holy ack-ack and SAMs, denying the incoming angels theater access to the skies of the enemy."

Then C and Etienne, shared another bottle of Chablis and further chat, C again asking, as was his habit in thoroughly feeling out and fathoming his key men, what Etienne's assessment of President Osama was. "I can't help feeling the strong impression that Osama had already been got at. Not with money or anything of that kind, or course; not even by any flattery and the sense of power, which in all probability he genuinely doesn't care inordinately about: but simply by the responsibility, which automatically makes a man over-timid. Besides, as soon as you are in power your perspectives are foreshortened. The future is today's or tomorrow's crisis. The big dreams and the big dangers are over or under his horizon of action. Perhaps a bird's eye view of the world is as distorted as the worm's eye view. He's wet and assimilated to the views of the institutions and people gotten close to him. With him I get a sense of the official mind, a bit of the pseudo-professional graduate student at that, which sees everything as a problem in public administration and does not grasp that at a certain point, i.e., when critical economic interests are menaced, public spirit ceases to operate. The flaccid assumption of such people is that everyone wants the world to function properly and will do their best to keep the wheels running. They don't realize or digest that those who have pushed into power with the big property and the big institutions more often don't give a damn about the world as a whole and are laser-focused on their own interests, the greater good only taken into account when it becomes a necessary evil, and wholly ignored or even joyfully gutted when possible. He came in as a dreamer, like Wilson, but he's still too much of a Boy Scout for the level he's got to, and he doesn't see, or doesn't want to see the poisonous Lilliputian strings that have got him tied down to the interests around him, unworthy of what he might have been."

Though the Chinese had attained strategic surprise by betraying their erstwhile ally, with the prior warnings from Nightingale and the overhead satellite reconnaissance they missed their chance to attain tactical surprise. The Russian commander in the Far East, General Bondarenkov emulated the tactics of Kutuzov against Napoleon by fighting a war of maneuver, refusing a decisive battle while the Chinese had numerical superiority and giving up land for time sufficient to mass and reinforce his forces for the strategic counterblow. When the Chinese had outrun their logistic tail and their ability to supply their advance columns, and when the NATO Air Force units had been sufficiently deployed and supported to establish air supremacy the Russians struck back with fury, decimating the numerically superior but overextended and overexposed Chinese field army. At the same time a crucial counterblow involved the Japanese-American Inchon-or-Scipio Africanus-Carthage-like amphibious assault on the Chinese northeast, and the foray of the Indian army northward along the Chinese border, forcing the Chinese to divert significant forces from the Siberian campaign to defend their southwest and northeast and counter the threat to their capital in Beijing. The American control of the sea lanes was further vital in both landing the Japanese and South Korean field army in Vladivostok to reinforce the Eastern sector and in cutting off the Chinese supply of oil from the Middle-East. The American hunter-killer submarine USS Nimrod and carrier planes from the USS Enterprise intercepted and sank China's first aircraft carrier and escort group, the ROCS Admiral Zheng He in the South Pacific in the first 72 hours of combat and within a month the Chinese navy and maritime air force was completely hors de combat. Within three months of hard fighting the New NATO Allies had effectively pushed the Chinese back across the Russian border, and the Chinese Expeditionary Force was reduced by constant harassment from the air and land as well as by cold, starvation and lack of fuel and supplies to the condition of the decimated Grand Armee returning to Europe after Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.

# CHAPTER XVI.

### Jerusalem

### Ecce Homo

Note: This chapter is excerpted from the book "Memoirs of Apocalypse" published after the events depicted, as narrated by Isis:

"Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare" (Psalms 124:7)

I can still see them in my mind's eye: dozens of black birds, gyre upon gyre, their wings spread, circling the Western Wall—the Wailing Wall as the sun rose over the Old City on that dull Thursday morning in Jerusalem.

One of our brothers was celebrating his conversion that day and Osiris and the whole "Family" went with him to the wall to pray that morning and to invest and receive his spirit into our newly founded community. It was very early. The air was cool, and the plaza in front of the wall, usually crowded with visitors, was almost deserted. We could come right up to the wall and touch the ancient stones. They were smooth and worn. Stuck in every crack and crevice as far up as people can reach were little bits of paper; it is customary to stick a "kvitl" in the wall inscribed with a prayer or wish. Higher up, various species of plants, among them thorny caper bushes with delicate purple and white flowers, jutted out between the stones.

But those birds – they kept hovering overhead. Around and around they went, silent and eerie. They appear every day at the crack of dawn, an old woman attendant told us: They are the souls of the dead.

We had just returned from the refugee camps at Ein Gedi, on the shores of the Dead Sea where our followers had gathered while the authorities in Jerusalem decontaminated the Old City and central and eastern sectors that had been only slightly affected by the nuclear detonation at the Israel Museum and Knesset in the Western sector of the town. That sector would require much longer to clean up and make habitable and continued to be quarantined and blocked off, but now we had the good fortune of recovering access to the Old City and the holy sites. Each day we had held camp meetings at which Osiris would become the center of a massive and growing cult, and which would be extensively covered on the evening news across the globe from the satellite uplinks. Hundreds of media celebrities, many of whom had been performing at the Teddy Center at the time of the explosion but were not taken as hostages were evacuated out to these camps, and the presence of such media stars quickly drew the presence of the network cameras.

The madness around us was so thick and surging that we often feared for our lives. Tens of thousands pressed us so tight in their attempt to touch the hand or garment of Osiris, that they were often in literal danger of suffocation, the pressure of the human bodies being so great that indeed now and again one or two of the enthusiasts would drop down dead on the ground as the pressure ebbed and flowed. They muttered that if one touched his hand then the radiation sickness that everyone feared would be miraculously cured. As Osiris' wife I was included in these mysteries and hundreds prostrated themselves before my feet and crawled on hands and knees to kiss the hem of my dress or skirt, which I at that time invariably wore full length to the ground under the chastening pressure of the events and sorrows surrounding us. The sick, the maimed, the lame and those fearful that the radiation would soon take lethal effect on their bodies crowded around us relentlessly until I began to become hysterical myself at their pressure. Osiris laid hands on them and immediately there would be a cry of relief from the sufferer as if an incubus was lifted from his or from her breast. Most of these effects were temporary enthusiasms, but soon we discovered a smaller number of indisputable cures of palsy, blindness, paralysis and other conditions in which Osiris actually healed the suffering in his "miracles." I talked about it to Jude, our fellow bandsman in the Angels of Thoth and he attributed it to "Placebo Effect" in which the patient cures himself through natural healing force, a kind of psychosomatic effect, aided by the force of the delusion that a cure has been performed by a medical or miraculous agency. After two or three days the level of emotional exuberance fell a bit out of sheer exhaustion, and our bodyguards worked out techniques for managing the surge of human flesh and the situation became more manageable. We held public gatherings on the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane or in the Church of All Nations where the terrain and the security could more effectively contain the crowd's energies.

Around this time we were aided by a new convert to the "Family"—Orlando Tancredi, whom we had known for years and was a fellow rock musician, but who had been battling with a bout of deep depression in the last weeks before the detonation. A few weeks ago he seemed almost suicidal at the loss of his girlfriend but after the detonation and the onset of the madness about Osiris he had a remarkable recovery and became dedicated to our well being. He seemed to come out of the wounded soul of his former self to an incredible fierce loyalty to us, and to reincarnate into a true believer in our cause. Somehow he seemed an absolute wizard in the roles of chief bodyguard and chief of crowd control and without him and the crew he managed I really think we would have been either crushed to death or gone mad from the pressure.

I had been used to dealing with the immense crowds on our rock concert tours, which did indeed sometimes get out of control but nothing before had ever reached this level of manic and compulsive passion, which had seemingly unhinged the bedrock of the sanity of the whole community rather than just touching a few exuberants. I think the majority of them expected in their hearts that this was the true End of Days and that the world and its history would reach its climax. Helplessness set heavily in the vacuity behind their eyes when they came together so frighteningly in their masses all about us. They were reaching out desperately...for something...

I cannot put all the blame on Osiris for these excesses, and I know I bear my share and am complicit in his crack-up. By that time we had become addicted, perhaps fatally, to our dramatizations of ourselves, which began years ago as a means to hold onto our media success, then became a game, then a compulsion and finally something wholly beyond our control. His being Osiris and me being Isis began with our need for a stage presence, but at some point the line blurred between the mask and the self behind it, and for Osiris the self began to disintegrate and decompose under the crushing excesses of fame, money, alcohol, drugs, sex, his narcissism and megalomania, and the fun-house mirror of media bubble smearing whatever self he had or might have had into an unfocusing mental blur. At first when we were rocketing to the top of the world we knew exactly what we were doing, even as we tormented and provoked one another: we were creating a legend, a myth of ourselves, a superstar-divinity that the world would respond to as if we were indeed the god and goddess we pretended to be. At first this was a high, a trip and then it became an narcotic addiction to which we had apparently already sold our souls, Faust-like, for the rush as long as it would last. After Jerusalem everything went out of control to the nth degree: we weren't making the myth; the myth was making us.

Every day we would emerge from our tents on the shore of the Dead Sea at Ein Gedi and meet the surging crowds in the botanical reserves. Thousands asked for our blessings and Osiris would oscillate in his speeches and sermons from a moral Ernestness and lucidity to periods of sheer raving lunacy. We waited weeks like this, waiting until the authorities would allow us to return to the Old City in Jerusalem after the de-contamination. Every three days we would mount the stage and give a concert. Osiris took over a song from Prince, driving himself and the crowd into a frenzy:

I'm your messiah and you're the reason why

I would die for you...

You're just a sinner I am told...

I'll make you good when you are bad

I'll make you happy when you are sad...

I am your conscience, I am love...

All I really need is to know that you believe

That I would die for you...

\- "I Would Die for You"

Since we couldn't return immediately even the refugee authorities recruited us to help divert the fears and anxieties of the crowds and commissioned us to perform. We astounded everybody with our rapidly improvised rendition of Lloyd Weber's "Jesus Christ Superstar" which Osiris and I had done in New York a decade ago, with myself playing Mary Magdalena, Osiris Christ and Jude playing Iscariot. Life was certainly imitating art when I sang "I Don't Know how to love him...he frightens me so." I didn't know how to love him and I was more and more frightened of him and of everything around us. After the first detonation he made love to me out of shear nervous anxiety, almost as a compulsion. After that he withdrew from me sexually and seemed almost to find my touch distasteful or repugnant, pulling back from any caress or stroke I might give him. In bed he seemed to be withdrawing from his body wholly within his head and he developed a aversion to my closeness that ended in his order that separate beds be brought into our apartment. He began to go completely overboard in his cocaine and alcohol habits, bingeing in the seclusion of our tent or hotel room even as the crowds and batteries of television cameras awaited his spiritual Revelations, and he withdrew more and more into his own mental world, even when we were thrown together again and again in the crowds and improvised litanies. We never made love after that again.

After the civil authorities declared the Old City area again habitable the masses of people in the refugee camps along the Dead Sea followed Osiris in a grand procession back to the city, entering by Herod's Gate in the Northeast and then making homage at the Temple Mount, the Wailing Wall, the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa Mosque and at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the shrines of the three great Abrahamic religions, before making their way to the Grand Hotel, which Osiris, never one to do anything in half-measures, had purchased outright, lock, stock and barrel with a letter of credit from London and which he then set up as the headquarters of the new "Family" or religious brotherhood or church-in-the-making that had formed itself around him and already showed the trappings of a formal organizational structure with a Council of twelve "Apostles" that acted as Osiris's collective board of directors. Global television appearances and appeals unlocked a torrent of cash donations surging into the hundreds of millions. I, not as an "Apostle" but as a kind of spiritual queen was included in the meetings of this Council, over which Osiris presided. Each day Osiris would lead our procession out from the Grand Hotel and through the Damascus Gate and we would make our way to the shrines of the Jewish Quarter, the Muslim Quarter and the Christian Quarter, taking his message to each and all at the Wailing Wall, the Temple Mount and the Holy Sepulcher. Then in the afternoon we would perform from the steps of the Grand Hotel and Osiris would address and receive the thronging crowds. Then before dinner the Council would meet and discuss our future plans. The biggest faction formed around Peter Pembroke of the Angels of Thoth who urged Osiris to declare his mission as the Universal Messiah, The Mahdi, the Maitreya and the arisen Christ. The faction surrounding Jude Friedlaw denounced this as madness, cautioning that pretense of that sort could only end in a very painful fall as we could not deliver satisfaction for all the expectations we were sure to raise, and that our energies ought to be directed at humanistic causes of promoting environmental reforms, abolition of nuclear weapons, "making poverty history" and demanding the institution of the United Nations World Parliament.

Peter answered Jude's reservations by jumping up on the conference table, bass guitar in hand and gunning down the Springsteen passage in "Open All Night:"

Radios' jammed up with gospel stations

Lost souls callin long distance salvation

Hey Mr, DJ woncha bear my last prayer

Hey ho rock n' roll deliver me from nowhere

He inveighed that the music itself is also seen as a means of grace, and that Rock and Roll had a divine Mission from God: "What's the Buzz? Tell me whatsa happenin!—It is right in front of our faces though few people realize it; the public persona and response to rock stars today shows this overwhelming hunger for this form of charismatic religious presence—David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Bruce Springsteen and Prince are only a few of the stars who have used messianic images to describe their public roles. This is the world's big chance!—we have survived Armageddon and people are hungering for the Kingdom of Heaven!—Osiris is going to deliver it to them if we have the balls to mobilize the energies that are swirling around us now! Is this all for nothing?—Have we suffered all this for no meaning or purpose whatsoever?—No! Just do it! Let the will of God be done!" he shouted from the tabletop.

"Do you really think we have the power to cure all the world's poverty, pain, hunger, injustice and hopelessness? Be rational—what do you think is going to happen when all these desperate souls reach out to us with our message of salvation and we can't deliver? Then we are going to get a violent backlash of wrath and disillusionment that will be perverted by our enemies to once again destroy us and enslave our fellow men. Let's keep the our revolution within the hearts and minds of rational men and women and not go excesses which we shall regret later. Yes, let's seize the moment to galvanize this spirit and make some reforms, but all within the borders of reason." pleaded Jude, rising to his feet to raise his finger at the figure of Peter, bestriding the table like a colossus before him.

"Get with it man!" shouted back Peter into his face, "I'm telling you what we already know...Stardom is the ultimate success story in the modern world—the American Dream and the World Dream! Rock stardom—charisma, sex appeal, money and celebrity are seen on the street as a visible proof of God's favour and the fount of an offer of communion! I mean we been servin Mammon with our power for the last forty years, now is our chance to serve God—I mean the hour of the Rock and Roll Messiah is here! Just do it man! Just do it!"

Jude would came back to me hang-dogged and whispered in my ear: "He is losing it Isis—he doesn't know who he is anymore—he's drowning in his own narcissism and this insane adulation is pushing his megalomania into a meltdown fever. If somebody doesn't get a handle on this the chain reaction is going to go out of control!" I would talk over and over to Tancredi, his chief bodyguard and tell him to keep him away from the drug and sex binges, and he tried do his best but to no effect. Both Jude and Tancredi fell into a perplexed depression as they saw him mentally unraveling day by day, torn alternately between love and loathing towards him.

Osiris would keep his silence and remain cryptic. He would answer questions about his status and mission with enigmatic coyness. Asked if he was the Messiah, the Mahdi or the Maitreya he would answer in imitation of Christ with: "Thou sayest so." Aside from the songs that he sang he would most often make cryptic ejaculations before the surging crowds of tens of thousands such as:

" _I have existed from the morning of the world and I shall exist until the last star falls from the night. Although I have taken the form of Osiris, I am all men as I am no man and therefore I am a God."_

or

" _A new Genesis is at hand, and I shall be its Creator!"_

and

The Æon of Horus is here! And its first flower is this: that freed of its obsession of the doom of the Ego in Death, and of the limitation of the Mind by Reason, the best men set out afresh with eager eyes upon the Path of Perfection! The mountain track of the goat, and then the untrodden ridge, that leads to the ice-gleaming pinnacles of Mastery!

or

"THE HUMAN RACE REQUIRES JUDGEMENT!!!"

When asked for any rational or specific decisions or plans he would remain silent or enigmatic with a teasing and cryptic smile. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next. But he was convinced he would think of something when the time came.

Most everybody around us took this for deep wisdom or spirituality, but from the amount of cocaine I knew he was doing and his increasing paranoia and narcissistic megalomania I saw behind the curtain I got the eerie feeling that I was looking at a Wizard of Oz who was more likely to die of an overdose of narcotics than from crucifixion. Sometimes he would come to me weeping, saying it was so, so hard to do everything right and I was touched by the sincerity of his desire to do good and to cure the world of its woes. Scratch beneath the surface however, and it became obvious that the great good to be had through saving the world was not half so important as the fact that it was HIM who was destined and endowed by the powers of heaven to do the saving. Though he treated me like the Virgin of the Annunciation with elaborate respect and reverence in public, creating almost a cult of the Virgin Madonna around me, in private he was repulsed by my presence and drew away from my every touch as a woman. Occasionally after a cocaine binge he would fall back into his old sexual habits and I would discover a girl or boy in his bed, none of whom we ever saw again by the light of day. I was afraid to get involved as I knew I didn't have any answers.

That Thursday morning we went in procession down to the Wailing Wall, followed by at least ten thousand who had been lodged in or encamped around the Grand Hotel waiting for him. A troop of his bodyguards led by Tancredi cleared the way for him as hundreds sought to touch the white robe wrapped about him. Behind the stage preparing for his appearance I saw him snorting up vial after vial of cocaine. At the Wailing Wall, the Gate of Mercy, Osiris welcomed the new Brother into our "Family" with a kiss prolonged on his lips and placed the paper of a written prayer between the cracks of the stones of the wall beside the thousands of others. Then in a glazed-eyed fever he turned to address the thousands of faces upturned towards him, calling out to them ecstatically:

"My beloved brothers and sisters! I have led you here to the Wailing Wall, the Gate of Mercy because I have been visited with a dream in the night! This wall is called the Western Wall, the Wailing Wall and the Gate of Mercy by Christians and Jews alike. To Muslims it has another name, "Al-Buraq!" Al-Buraq means 'lightning' in Arabic but most particularly it is the name of the winged-horse upon which the Prophet Mohammad made his way to heaven and Allah during his "Night Journey" which started from this very place as related in the Holy Koran; the Buraq carried the prophet Muhammad from Mecca to Jerusalem and back during the Isra and Mi'raj or "Night Journey", which is the title of one of the chapters of the Qur'an. Al-Buraq also is said to have carried the great patriarch Abraham when he visited his wife Hagar and son Ishmael. According to tradition, Abraham lived with one wife in Syria, but the Buraq would transport him in the morning to Mecca to see his family there, and take him back in the evening to his Syrian wife. A very useful and understanding beast! Last night this marvelous steed, Al-Buraq came to me in my last dream. I am preparing to mount him in my next!

Because Mohammad tied up the winged horse Al-Buraq to this spot, Muslims call this Wailing Wall Al-Buraq. Thus, I am here to bring my message of God's love to all faiths, the Jewish, Christian and Muslim. I am here to speak to all men and to all women of all nations...It may be that I have but little time left on this earth...but as Einstein would have us understand, time is relative as between heaven and earth...

The story of the Prophet Mohammad and Al-Buraq tells us this: when Mohammad rode on Al-Buraq he accidentally knocked off a table a jar or glass filled with water; when in Heaven Muhammad traveled immense distances and talked and discoursed with the prophets, Moses, Jesus and many others for years on years and ultimately even saw God Allah face to face... But when he returned to his house, Mohammad was in time to catch in the air that very same jar or glass he knocked off the table by accident when he departed years ago, avoiding spilling even a single drop onto the earth: so, our hearts must learn that years in Heaven's time may equal to not a single second in earth or in Mankind's time; and conversely a millennium in earthly time may be but the blink of the Buddha's eyelash. Therefore, though I may live for one minute more or one century more I will not fret. God has time for all things, and as the Book of Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for all things under the heavens, a time for gathering stones together..."

"...A vision has come upon me, oh my brothers and sisters! A Revelation has been opened! I will be crucified as was my brother Christ! I shall bear the cross on my back and they shall flagellate me on the Via Dolorosa as was he. And I shall be fixed to the cross as was he! But I shall not be taken down from the cross as was he!...No!...A new world beckons, a New Jerusalem!...I shall be impaled, yes the spikes shall penetrate my flesh as they did his flesh but my flesh being penetrated I shall come down from the cross a woman!...Yes!...An angel has revealed it to me!...Impaled on the cross a man the heavens shall open and the Divine Rays shall mould and open my waiting womb to the Immaculate Conception as the New Madonna!..." And with that he pulled aside the robe which was wrapped about his body and revealed himself in full drag beneath it, in Madonna-like wise or something out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and wrapped his own arms about himself in self-caress.

"The Divine Rays of the Father above shall mould and open my virgin womb and by immaculate conception I shall bear forth a new Avatar, a new incarnation of myself—I myself shall give birth to myself as the New Messiah, The New Mahdi, The New Maitreya, the Second Coming! Inside my womb I shall reincarnate myself as the first of a new race of immortal spiritual supermen to be born unto the light of heaven, and the weak and gangrenous dying race of man shall perish with the End of Days, but for you the elect of my spirit who follow me now as we enter the New Jerusalem together! And Al-Buraq will bear me heavy with the child of myself in Annunciation up to the heavens to my Father's house and at the end of three days he shall return me delivered of the god-child to the New Jerusalem...I shall return as the Virgin Mother bearing myself newly reborn as the Child-God of the New Jerusalem, as the new Horus Christ to succeed Jesus Christ, ushering in the newly dawning Æon of Horus, in my arms, I shall return to you as the Mother and Child of Infinite Love!... and you, all of you, all of you who believe in me and follow me now, for you of my spirit who follow me now we shall enter together, together beyond death and beyond all suffering shall we walk together as we enter the New Jerusalem arm in arm together!" he shouted as he raised a massive ebony cross of crucifixion to his shoulders, staggering towards the Via Dolorosa under its weight in his drag net-hose and crimson dress beneath his white robe.

Just then a sharp crack of a gunshot was heard, and then another. Two streams of blood began to flow down the front of Osiris's white kaftan robe. Then a third shot rang out as his head jerked violently back. A surge of shrieks moved first forward and then backwards. He fell against the Wailing Wall behind him, and his blood flowed profusely over the paper prayers lodged between every stone and block of the wall. Peter caught him in his arms and held him. I shrieked involuntarily out of shock and then again from horror. I threw myself upon him, as the crowd gasped and panicked, running in every direction or falling to the ground. Raising my head hot and wetted from Osiris' bloody breast I saw the dark form of Tancredi looming over us atop the Wailing Wall in a trance of depressed incomprehension with the gun still held in his hand smoking.

"La Commedia e Finita" he said in Italian, after a blank pause.

# CHAPTER XVII.

### Middle Earth/London/Lhasa

### Deliverance

1

In Castalia, Middle Earth, or Inner Shambhala as it was also known, the Great Game proceeded for several days beyond its crisis, the stalemate being broken, until the endgame reached its final conclusions. Goethe and the other Adepts and Illuminati were busy in executing the moves of the play and had but little time else but for occasional eating and sleep. The Magister Ludi was taken ill on the passing of the crisis but at length recovered sufficient strength to supervise the final stages of the endgame from between the sheets of a collapsible bed on wheels that was wheeled to the Grand Retort for his ease. Everyone was visibly concerned about Eva as it was feared that the cumulative stresses and excesses of the past weeks might affect the unborn child or cause a miscarriage, but contrary to expectation, once she had had a few days rest to recover her strength both she and the baby showed no signs of any serious maleffects and bore up with an admirable resilience.

The remainder of the Argonauts took up temporary residence in the Guesthouse of Castalia as the official and honoured guests of the Magister Ludi. Most slept for more than twenty-four hours after their return and then slowly recovered their energies, dividing their time between visits to the Grand Retort, following accounts of the incomprehensible game explicated to them by Goethe and assorted of the Adepts and Illuminati, and watching CNN and BBC news reports from the surface world, following the apocalyptic crisis above.

When they next awoke they were surprised to see that tethered above the immense dome of the Grand Retort was a zeppelin, or rigid airship. In the cafeteria-restaurant they also encountered another group of adventurers who had just arrived and who were introduced to them as the "Chums of Chance" by Goethe's friend Dr. Nicola Tesla, who was also hard at work manipulating the Silmaril Seed Crystal (happily no longer missing) within the Grand Retort. The Chums had arrived with the Technological Kitchen Cabinet of Princess Chthonica of the Domain of Plutonia and her Telluric Adepts were assisting with the manipulations of the telluric currents to replenish and recharge Castalia's power grid, which had been severely depleted from the demands of their recent transit through the Cosmic Wormhole and the non-stop operation of the Grand Retort. During a break of several hours in which the Retort needed to be recharged from the electromagnetic telluric currents and rebooted the Argonauts took advantage of the Chums and their zeppelin, The Incommode III, imposing upon the captain, Commodore Renovius St. Cosmo, to take them on a short skytour of the vicinity. St. Cosmo warmly obliged and they boarded the gondola, from the skydeck of which they could review the full expanse of the arcology and the neighboring trading stations of the Mégamicres, the pluricolor-flourescent-skinned chthonic aborigines who originally inhabited the Bay of Pellucidar as primitive hunter-gatherers, subsisting on luminous fish and telluric shellfish and gathering occult mushrooms.

It was not until, ascending aloft above the shroud of coastal mist, when he finally saw the magnificent expanse of the crystalline waters of the Great Central Sea, stretching out of sight beneath the airship beyond the Bay of Pellucidar, that Sartorius finally understood why it had been necessary to journey here, to this place, and why the process of reaching it and returning to it—penance, madness and indirection, were inescapable. There are places we fear, places we dream, places whose exiles we become and never learn it until, sometimes, too late. But this was like looking into the heart of the Earth itself as it was before there were ever eyes of any kind to look at her. He had gazed before into the waters of pure small mountain lakes in the Sierra Nevada of California, but the perfect liquid clarity laced with a living phosphorescence here had taken him to the verge of losing himself, to the dizzying possibility of falling into another order of things.

Goethe pointed out some of the geological history of the region, such as the creation of the Great Central Sea from a fissure in the earth's crust, sometimes associated with the disappearance of Atlantis, allowing the waters to enter the hollowed core of the earth. Many believe the island of Omphalos itself is a remnant of the swallowed Atlantis, which is also referred to locally by its ancient name of Númenor, and that the great flood of Noah's Ark was in preparation for the draining of the excess waters into the Telluric Interior creating the Great Central Sea. In India it is believed that the Great Central Sea was created as the reservoir of the waters of the Great Deluge of Manu and final dwelling place of the Great Horned Fish, Matsyas Avatara, after he had grown so large the surface oceans could not contain him, and that Omphalos is the protruding summit of his Great Horn and the Umbilical Wormhole is the attached Rope of the Great Horn, Shesha, the coiling and uncoiling Adishesha, Umbilical Remainder of the Creation, by which the world is connected in its cycles to the Bed of Vishnu afloat in the Universal Ocean of cosmic SpaceTime and UnTime, and thence to the Brahman, eternal regenerative spirit of the universe and The All. In China it is believed that the island of Omphalos, midpoint of the Great Central Sea is the focal point of the mutual transorbit of Yin and Yang, the twinned metaphysical oxen yoked in the mill of the Ultimate Source—The TaiJi—The Extreme Ultimate.

Wafting in their silvered zeppelin they visited the crumbling Pyramids which by immemorial oral legend were built by a defunct civilization known to them only by persistent oral myths as Icosaméron, once led by a fabled Telluric Emperor, Casanova the Great, and which were reputedly dedicated to an unknown Dark God, of which there is no modern trace, the inhabitants having evidently had no written language. Some have speculated that the Pyramids might have been the voluntary or involuntary abode of Lucifer, or of lesser incarnations such as Melkor, Mundus, Sauron, Mephisto, Pluto or Omolo, cast out of the firmament of Heaven. Goethe related how the Mégamicres still talked of the Dark God as if he still existed, and how some of the old women made incantations to his reputedly still-surviving High Priestess, Weng-Chiang, who was believed to intend to return one day from exile in Agarthi and the Tibetan lands above as a hermaphroditic messiah accompanied by her resurrected spouse, Dr. Hu, and their offspring, the mythical chthonic Christ-child Hor-Zar-d'Oz, who will usher in a new Æon of Peace and Immortality in Middle Earth. But Goethe dismissed these as the raving superstitions of primitive minds. Then Commodore St. Cosmo could not be restrained as he felt the necessity of both giving them a guided tour of the craft, then en route telling them of the adventures of the Chums of Chance in their magellantic intraplanetary navigations of the Telluric Interior from pole to pole, portal to portal, rescuing the Princess from the Legion of Telluric Gnomes who had allied themselves with Gollum and an army of Orcs as they attacked from the Mines of Moria, seeking to ally themselves with the rebellious and discontented subjects of Princess Chthonia, including the Longobeards, estranged by her willfulness, sexual and budgetary profligacy, to overthrow her. According to St. Cosmo they would only be able to stay a short time, as the Princess had to return to the capital of Dwarrowdelf to put down the remnants of the rebellion, though her telluric experts, the undisputed best in the world, would remain until the Retort was fully functional, powered-up, and the crisis resolved.

As in full flight they viewed the expanse stretching along the Bay of Pellucidar, Goethe explained how the Grand Retort sat atop an immense arcology which was an ecologically self-sufficient and self-replenishing hyperstructure on the shores of the Great Central Sea at the center of the earth. He clarified how its immense power was supplied from the telluric currents derived from its position astride the principal aorta of the telluric ley lines leading to the Ombilicus Mundi, or the massive iron electro-magnetic navel, heart and focus of the world, which also derived power in additional dimensions through its direct connection via the Umbilical Wormhole, which constituted a galactic ley tunnel connecting directly to the near infinite energies of the black hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. The powers channeled through this pathway, when combined and linked with the powers of the Ombilicus Mundi, then formed the Axis Mundi. Feeling expansive, he went on to detail how in myth this very spot was the site of the deepest root of the Tree of Yggdrasil and the common taproot of the twin trees of the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, referred to also as Laurelin and Telperion, or by other names or images of the same thing amoung the myriad tribes, peoples and races of man. However, he maintained, these 'trees' most likely were the crude metaphorical renderings of a primitive people for fields of force which they sensed but could not express except in the language of their own sense experience. The telluric and cosmic powers and fields of electro-magnetic and light energies, the intertwined fields of matter and anti-matter, positive and negative, Yin and Yang, the female and the male principles, etc., are in fact unseen "trees' of energy and life—we could call our Milky Way Galaxy a "Tree of Light" if we wished—and we can take both the words and the metaphors as an approximation of a deeper reality composed of esoteric energies in structures and relations unseen.

Sartorius asked him if he believed in such accounts, saying: "Lord Goethe, I still remain somewhat confused, as most scientific accounts of the center of the earth assume that it must consist of molten iron at its core, and that a hollow earth would not be structurally or gravitationally stable. Also when you mention the structure of the Middle Earth referring to mythology, you tend to ignore the absence of a Hell or Hades, which should exist where we are now floating, according to Dante and Homer and perhaps the religions or myths of myriad races."

Goethe answered with equanimity: "Firstly, whatever our genius and science, we have to retain our humility and recognize that there are many unanswered questions, and what answers we have are tentative, at best. And each new discovery amazes and calls into reformulation all that we have believed or believed we knew before. Speculation abounds! Remember, Kepler, Halley and Euler had speculated and conjectured on the possibility of a "hollow earth" based on the best scientific evidence of their times. Theories come and theories go—why how long has it been since we have turned from the assumption that our galaxy was empty at its center to the now common belief that it does and must have a massive black hole at its core which baffles us to chagrin since it absorbs the very light which might make visible its presence! How few the years since we came to the realization that the skin of the earth's crust is in constant motion and that even the continents themselves shift over aeons, not to mention the presence and depths of the seas and ice caps. Why in my day we argued incessantly as to whether light was a particle or a wave, and some periods agreed with me and others rejected my theories, but in the end new overarching frames of understanding have emerged uniting the contending theories in a greater unity—waves, photons, hadrons, quarks and ever beyond!—there is no end of the miracles of nature and no end of the discoveries of the human mind. Undoubtedly aeons hence much of our present confusions will be smiled upon as we smile on those of infants. How often are we reminded that the hidden and unseen forces, masses, beings and powers of this universe far outweigh the visible?—But our best guesses include the likelihood that originally the earth did, as our geologists and cosmologists assume, evolve with a solid, or perhaps molten core. Religious sources such as Dante and mythic sources such as Homer did locate an underworld, and Underland, Hell or Inferno here indeed. Our religious believers in our Order of Templars maintain that there is no contradiction. They claim that the molten core of the earth originally could have provided a venue for the torment of contrary spirits and souls, but that the Harrowing of Hell by the Forces of Light, most likely channeled through the Axis Mundi through the wormhole resulted in an immense inner explosion at the earth's core, driving out the malevolent spirits into other dimensions and rendering the center, or at least significant parts of the center of the earth, our present day Middle Earth fused and hollow from the detonation, partially filled with internal seas and watercourses. As for the failure of surface scientists to detect these spaces, the supposedly missing mass may be supposed to have been compacted and stabilized into the inner vault or ceiling of the core. Similarly, the existence of communities of spirits, beings and intelligences viable at the center of the Milky Way galaxy may take into account dimensions far beyond the usually supposed three or four, minimally twenty-six we deal with in our Grand Retort, and so the mere supposed obstacle of the overwhelming gravitational field may prove no obstacle at all, and presents no absurdity to the enlightened and open mind. Also, it is well known that the Order for centuries has undertaken masking operations to prevent the discovery of these parts, including the return of false telluric readings from seismographic and related probes. This has been part of our "Stealth Technology" to pre-empt discovery and interference from those we would prefer to avoid until their levels of psychic evolution are compatible with the realities of which they are presently ignorant. But perhaps you are skeptical as to conspiracy theories, as indeed you should well be. But as to all of these realities and their unfolding discovery I recommend my motto to you: In utrumque paratus—be ready for anything!"

He went on to confide how the Grand Retort was entrusted to the care of the Order of the Templars of the Grand Retort, into which men of genius had been inducted for millennia, preserving human knowledge and civilization in times of chaos and social collapse, and how their lives here had been prolonged beyond the confines of normal human mortality through immersion in the vast energy fields of the Ombilicus Mundi and the Axis Mundi, a sort of partial realization of the dream of the legendary "Fountain of Youth" of Ponce de Leon and Prester John, a fountain not, however, of water but of occult telluric radiation. Time travel also allowed regular transiting and sojourning to the Ombilicus from dimensions of the past and future. But, unfortunately, this process had never completely defeated the inevitability of death and in any case would be reversed should they depart for any great length of time from the Ombilicus and Axis, making their sojourns on the surface of the earth brief, usually for the purpose of recruiting and inducting newer members of the Adepts and Illuminati of the Order of Templars, or aiding them in their work in critical times of global crisis, until the time came for the apprentice members of the Order on the earth's surface to join their journeymen and master brethren in the arcology of the Grand Retort. The Order was headed by the Magister Ludi, who also presided over the periodic Crystal Bead games of the Grand Retort.

As to how the Crystal Bead game influenced and guided the world history unfolding on the surface of the earth, though by no means controlled it, Goethe explained how the obscure moves and concatenations within the game in the Grand Retort would in the course of unfolding history be mirrored in analogue in indirect though parallel occurrences in the actual history being played out on the surface of the earth, not in direct mechanical causal relationship but induced rather by an underlying sympathetic collation of forces, often mediated by telluric currents of positive and negative potential, analogues of Yin and Yang, and other esoteric fields of force and causation. Goethe likened it to the influence of the archetypes of the collective unconscious on the actions of the conscious mind, a real and sympathetic causation, thought not following in any mechanistically limited one-to-one linkage of any simplistic linear chain of cause and effect. The tracing of its effects in the Grand Retort was like watching the paths of a burst of invisible hadrons in a cloud-chamber of particle physics, or the swings of a cosmological Foucault's Pendulum oscillating in series through twenty-six dimensions of cosmic time-space. Similarly, the new visitors would spend their hours oscillating back and forth between the events of the Game in the Grand Retort and their live cable television reports from the BBC and CNN which were relayed from the surface of the globe to their chthonic lodgings in the Guest House via telluric channels.

Finally, the silvered zeppelin made its way homeward towards the light of the Bay of Pellucidar and the Grand Retort, unseen but luminous over the dark horizon, in grace of flight over scores of chthonic mountainscapes, sometimes savagely bare and sometimes deeply clothed in a dark verdure of phosphorescent forest and tangled vinescape from which periodically issued far below the inhuman calls or bellowings of unknown birds or untamed beasts out of the polyshadowed darknesses below. The looming landscape nestled amidst the surrounding subterranean alps did, indeed, present a perfect picture of the lovely and the sublime, of beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.

Thus it was that after their return two and one-half days after the Missing Crystal, the Silmaril which Sartorius had borne home from the Council of the Immortals was put into play in the Grand Retort Sartorius, Jack and Andreas found themselves after a buffet dinner following the live news report anchored by Etienne Dearlove of the BBC World Service in the commons of the Castalia Guest House in the final days of the Crisis:

"Ladies and Gentlemen—please bear with us—we are interrupting our regularly scheduled interview to bring you the live breaking broadcast of the Supreme Leader of Iran who is making a worldwide announcement from Teheran via Al-Jazeera, BBC, CNN and the major networks. As you can see on your television screens the Imam is standing before an immense crowd of people—what is the estimate?—our experts tell us the crowd gathered here in Azadi Square must contain over one million people gathered about him at the base of the magnificent Azadi Tower. The cameras are zooming in here on his face as he speaks—he looks strong and vibrant as the gusts of wind blow his white beard and tunic about him as he speaks. From the immense crowd the electronic flashes of cameras and mobile phones recording this memorable event are bathing him in a neverending popping luminosity. Here we are now getting our simultaneous translation over the audio channel...

'My brothers and sisters, I cannot express to you my profound shock as the most unexpected turn of events has occurred...I have been visited by a Messenger from heaven—even as the Prophets of the Book were visited—the Angel Jibreel, whom foreigners term the Archangel Gabriel—he came to me most vividly and most really in my dream deep in the caverns of Fordo, in my command center outside of Qom, and gave to me for the benefit of all humanity this message: 'Open the Gates of Ijtihad.' It is thus that I come to you in this great place, the Azadi Square—Azadi means 'Freedom' in our language—to usher in a new era in our Islamic Revolution, a new freedom and a new struggle to bring the spirit of Allah into the life of the world and to bring his great message to all peoples. Henceforth the great heritage of the Koran and the Hadith shall be freed up and interpreted in the creative living spirit of our living souls' quest for oneness with the divine—freed of the mere dead hand of the past—free to evolve its creative energies towards an illimitable future. We are opening the Gates of Ijtihad, we are ending the mechanical emulation of the past and its flaws and freeing the spirits of living Muslims to reach out to their living god with their living hearts and imaginations. By so doing we are in no way abandoning the excellencies of our Prophet and Razul Mohammad and the great example that he has set us from the past in the Koran and the Hadith. Indeed, he himself did not unthinkingly emulate the past but reached out creatively towards a newer future, and we will imitate him in his spark of the divine creativity, daring to break with the past and struggle toward a greater future and a closer union with the divine essence. We shall follow the spirit of the great Sufi master Rumi in re-interpreting the letter of the law in the living light of the living heart and the living spirit and in accordance with the on-going evolution, changes and ever greater perfection of Allah's creation, and of the ever evolving greater and closer union of his creatures with His ever living spirit.

In the spirit of Allah the Merciful and the Compassionate, in the spirit of his Prophet and Razul Mohammad and of the great Muslims of the past, from Abraham to Moses to Isa-Jesus, from Ali to Akbar, we shall also reach out and take the first step to re-establish trust with our neighbors. Thus I am announcing an end to the hostage crisis. We shall take the first step. I am calling upon the United Nations Security Council to convene tomorrow and give us their guarantee against outside attack in return for our guarantee that we shall not attack any other land. If we are given this guarantee we shall unconditionally release the hostages who were brought to our soil by others—not taken by ourselves, I repeat and reiterate for emphasis—we shall release these hostages in three days time, Inshallah.—Let the will of God, Allah be done, Inshallah.'

—There you have it before your eyes ladies and gentlemen, live from Teheran the Supreme Leader announcing a new demarche to resolve the Hostage Crisis and announcing for the world what he reports as a new revelation through the Archangel Gabriel—'Opening the Gates of Ijtihad'—a new Islamic Reformation and Rennaissance of sorts. Now, let's cut to New York where the Secretary General of the United Nations is just embracing the Imam's demarche and calling an emergency meeting of the Security Council...a live report from Peter Holbrook at the United Nations Secretariat..."

For the next half-day the three were occupied discussing the emerging events and what their course of action should be. They had several meetings in the chambers of the Magister Ludi in which they discussed the ongoing situation with him and with Lord Goethe, who were simultaneously following the endgame unwinding in the Grand Retort. At length a consensus was arrived at to the effect that both the endgame and the situation at the surface of the earth required their prompt return, to be contemporaneous with the release of the other hostages including former Presidents Carter and Clinton, the former Secretaries General of the UN and Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wenjiabao. It was learned from the Magister Ludi's confidential intelligence sources that the hostages would be released to a third-party nation, namely being flown to Lhasa in Tibet, except for the two heads of government, Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao, who would be restored to their state aircraft and released to repatriate themselves in the dignity of their own craft. Thus it was considered imperative to return the Argonauts to Lhasa to rejoin the hostage party at the time of their release from the Potala Palace anticipated in two days. Accordingly, a plan was quickly devised for them to re-board the Nautilus, which under Captain Nemo would take them through the Great Central Sea and its connecting subterranean channels to surface at the Tibetan Estuary beneath the Himalayas from which they could regain the surface through the ascending passageways connecting to the Potala Palace. The logistics were quickly put in place and the parties divided their time with last-minute visits to the Grand Retort to follow the final stages of the endgame and the preparations in the Guesthouse for their departure. Then they walked along the corridors commemorative in memory of the persons they had once imagined themselves to be, who, each of them transformed, having chosen to submit to the possibility of reaching that terrible ecstasy known to result from unmediated observation of the beautiful.

2

In the final hours before their departure Sartorius met with the Magister Ludi for a private conference within the chambers of the Grand Retort as the Great Game drew to a close. Sartorius looked into the old man's face. He looked wan and his face was drawn tightly against the bones of his skull, hinting of approaching demise, yet perplexingly he seemed charged with an immense energy, perhaps borrowed against time. He spoke haltingly yet ecstatically:

"Professor Sartorius, I humble myself with congratulations at the success of your mission to recover the Silmaril crystal. Though you understand its immense importance, you do not yet realize the full scope and consequence of all that you and your fellows have done."

"On the contrary, My Lord Magister, I know that I was and am but a child in the face of what confronts us and realities beyond my understanding, and whatever I and my comrades have done, has only been done under your guidance. Alone we would have been but helpless..." he replied, "...but perhaps you had better rest, I can see that all these events are taxing your health and strength, and we who are older must be observant of our age and not too presumptuous, wouldn't you say, as a man of wisdom?"

"Professor Sartorius, I have called you here to share some not small revelations with you, and I don't know quite where to begin. You have been a witness to what to your senses and your understanding must have been beyond the horizon of your every conception of possibility, beyond the horizon of any reasonable credulity, yet nonetheless real. Now, for reasons which are greater than either you or I, I must further tax your farthest limits of imagination and belief, and I ask of you to bear faith in what I am about to say, and trust in its truth, at least until the proofs can be demonstrated to you."

"My Lord, if I did not trust you I would not be alive to speak with you today. And I have no intention to stop in any measure in that trust." he responded.

"My dear Sartorius, I thank you for your concern about my health and age. If the truth be known I know that I do not have much longer to live, regardless of what happens otherwise, but in these last days I have rallied my strength, and I have, we have, accomplished what is necessary, and if I die I am content to die fulfilled with an apt closure to my life. My age then—how old do you suppose I am then Sartorius?

"I couldn't know. If you press me to guess, I would say above one hundred, assuming that medicine and this environment keep you more healthful than the norm on the earth."

'Would I breach the limits of your trust if I told you to double that and keep counting?" he smiled.

"Well, yes, I would have to have my doubts, but I would also have my trust."

"Two-Hundred and thirty-seven, to be exact, if it is at all possible to be so, which I can assure you it is not!"

"Two-hundred and thirty-seven!—now I think you are joking with me!—that would mean that you would have been born around the time of the American or the French Revolutions!—how can you ask me to believe that?" Sartorius asked with a perplexed squint in his eyes.

"I do not ask you to believe that at all. Instead I ask you to believe something even more monstrous and absurd to your understanding. I was not born in the eighteenth century—in fact I have not yet been born at all!" he said with a self-entertaining laugh and a gay crinkling of his eyes in Sartorius' direction.

"Now sir, I love a riddle and a joke as well as anyone, but you are not making any sense to me." he replied.

"Riddle, Yes! Joke, no.—I can assure you Sartorius that I have never been so serious and plainspoken in my life. What would you say if I told you that I have not yet been born, and that you will in fact see me born, but not until you yourself are past ninety, and that I will be by your bedside when you die, well past 100!—ha, ha, oho, o, oh—I think I am hurting myself to laugh so hard—haho—ooooh!" and as he went through his small fit Sartorius couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying, and had no inkling of what his own face was registering.

"Well, sir. You have lost me with all your pleasantries, so you will have to let me in on the private joke." He said, turning his head askew and turning down the corners of his mouth in a perplexed half-smile back at the amused old gent.

"Sartorius, I know you are a man of Literature. Have you read H.G. Wells?"

"Of course—what are you referring to?"

"Well, let's start with The Time Machine, to begin with."

Sartorius stared at him incredulously for a full three minutes. The old man stared back just as intently, keeping his eyes locked on his own. He coughed. Another three minutes of silence went by.

"Time Travel?"

"Time Travel."

"No"

"Yes!—oh it is rich!—I am going to have to tell you it is true, and maybe let it sink in about a hundred years or so, and maybe I will come back then and see if you are ready to take me seriously!—Oh Sartorius, if you could only see the look on your face!—he, hi, hi!"

"Well, I am willing to listen. I can't say I can take you in, but I am willing to give you a willing suspension of disbelief for as long as I can stand it." he muttered back.

"All right, let's say a willing suspension of disbelief. You'd give a novel or a play or a scientific hypothesis as much quarter, so let's just start from there. Let's just say I am going to tell you a story, and when I finish you can look around the world that you know and decide if it is true or not by your own lights.

Let's just suppose, for the purposes of this story, so called, that I am two-hundred and thirty seven years old, give or take a bit. Now not too long ago, a century or so, most people lived to around fifty, and now it is common for people with good health and habits and the best medical care to push up to one hundred. Do you suppose in two hundred years at the rate of advance of medical science, Buckminsterfullerine and beyond, it would be beyond belief that life might be extended to another doubling or more?—I see you catch my drift.

Now let's just suppose I was born in another twenty or thirty years or so, and let's suppose that you haven't kicked the bucket yourself, and you last another thirty or forty or more, why then you could imagine that we may be seeing eachother sooner than we might suppose!

Now, one hundred years ago we were hardly to the point of the Wright Brothers inventing the airplane. "Today" as you would understand it, we have long since walked on the moon. What do you suppose the exponential advance of science and the harnessing of the nigh infinite energies of nature might have accomplished in another two-hundred and fifty years?—all of this assuming that we haven't misused our powers to destroy ourselves or our planet and its environment in the course of that span of history."

"Well, it could be just about anything, I would imagine." admitted Sartorius.

"Sartorius—you have made that history!...or you will make it, or not just you but a slew of like-minded people and the vector addition of all the currents of causation and accident will add up to that history—if we are lucky—if we are vigilant along the path—and if the spirit of the world and of the universe is with us.—Now don't interrupt with your reasonable questions and thoughts and reservations—just listen to me first: Wells supposed, wildly and without any evidence, that time travel might be possible. Well, let's suppose that after Einstein time-space and time as the fourth dimension has become a commonplace, along with a myriad of additional dimensions. And let's suppose that the energies of nature have been harnessed to allow the transiting of the curvature of space-time, the accessing of parallel worldways and pathways set off ninety degrees from the "flow" of our time and history, and the cutting of corners across the curve of that time to emerge in the far future or the far past of the present time from which we depart. Now I know you are not a physicist and so I won't confuse or bore you with a lot of details and theories, but let's just suppose that all I say has been true...

...Sartorius! Brother! Father! Son!—all of these! Let me tell you this tale and see if you can take it in. You have worked against hope, convinced that the world would defeat your every dream. You are wrong! Wrong! Wrong!—gloriously Wrong! Its coming, Sartorius! I guarantee you, it is coming! And don't look at me like a millennial whacko! I am telling you that what you and Andreas and the Committee have started as a pebble rolling downward is becoming an unstoppable avalanche! I mean the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly—it happened! Just a few years down the road! And you ain't seen nothin' yet!

I will tell you that I was there in 2084 when the little seed you and your brothers and sisters planted today ripened into a full tree with the founding of the USE—The United States of Earth—moving from the experimental United Nations Parliamentary Assembly to a full constitutional government joined in union and federation by all the nations of the earth! I took the baton from your hands and with thousands of others we carried it forward to the next generation.

"One World Government?" asked Sartorius in a doubting tone.

"Yes!—why not?—not all at once of course—there was no magical reformation of the human heart just by means of political re-organization; human fears, paranoia, greed and aggression, self-delusion, tribalism and hypocrisy remained features of the human mind, individual and collective, but little by little, just as in your recent experience of the European Union with interdependency and the growth of common values and a common culture the more tribal and atavistic instincts became more recessive and obsolete. People denounced Einstein as a dreamer for his Theory of Relativity, calling him naïve for calling into question the commonplace-common sense verities of time and space, matter and energy—until the atomic bomb awoke them to the new realities with a horrifying shock. Then they denounced him as an idiot savant, a buffoon for advocating a world government and universal disarmament as the only practical means to human survival in an age in which aggressive technology otherwise promised only certain eventual universal annihilation. Churchill joked of America, that you could always trust America to do the right thing, "after all other alternatives had been exhausted," and in that sense humanity proved itself very American in its erring and fitful evolution, but finally outgrew and transcended its own deepest-rooted limitations—for a time at least. Through slow and uncertain evolution the tribal nationalisms, paranoias and insecurities of the heart were step by step pacified and constrained, never eradicated, mind you, but civilized and tamed, within a web of interdependency, international law, rational mastery of coercive force, and a common culture and common consciousness, and ever so slowly, Einstein's one-worlder wooly dream of universal civilization, universal government, universal disarmament and at least an era of universal peace was attained. Nuclear arsenals, become obsolete under the new conditions, were consigned first to international supervision and control by common consent, then relinquished to the supranational authority, and finally dismantled. Only one-hundred years ago if you predicted the present state of affairs in Europe—a European Union united in common institutions and free of war or the threat of war, you would be denounced as a delusionary madman. Yet a reality it has become. Why not the world? Is it so unthinkable?

Yes, faced with no other alternative for avoiding its own self-destruction, after "all other alternatives were exhausted," the human spirit, rooted even in its savagery, found the means to its survival and to human life's continuation. Thus, after some growing and adjustment pains and some serious backsliding, we found our way to nearly two hundred years of peace and progress, wars no more common on the earth than they are within the European Union today. Technology solved many problems and created not a few, and the human heart remained imperfectly governable, self-perplexing and at times self-tormenting but somehow we muddled and progressed through to better times and enhanced powers, and enhanced powers of self-control to protect the environment and to avoid self-destruction. Believe it or not, we even got some curbs on the excesses of greed and business exploitation to work out a New Deal and a fairer distribution of the fruits of human technology and curbed some of the ruthlessness of exploitative business, moved to a greater industrial democracy with syndicalist sharing of ownership of enterprises between stakeholders, workers and investors, kept in a creative balance by strong government, strong labour organizations and strong consumer organizations, and moved on with an ever-growing pie to a more equitable sharing of the accumulated industrial and intellectual capital of humanity, providing a social safety net with innovation and investment in the future.

But as Yeats put it "Things fall apart,"—decay, corruption and entropy ensue. Just as the Roman Empire had some centuries of peace and progress in what they then believed to be a universal empire, followed by decline and fall, decadence, subversion of constitutions and decay of the social, moral and spiritual fabric of society, so history came again full circle. War was outlawed and obsolete on earth for centuries, following the universal peace treaties of World President Rubicona. But, just as in the British Empire, the growth of law, constitutionality and democracy within the realm was offset by the growth of empire in far places. With peace on earth colonization began of Mars and other planets. And just as Romans were satisfied with bread and circuses while the legions raped other lands, so our people became indifferent to the means employed to subsidize and underwrite their idleness and luxury, to support their decadent and insatiable desires. Slavery and exploitation, long abolished on earth were imposed upon the cloned and familyless populations of the extraterrestrial colonies, and wars proliferated. All armed forces and weapons were long abolished on earth, united under a single enlightened government. Yet as contradictions emerged and desires continued unabated unscrupulous corporations and colonial governments extracted wealth and labor value from their helpless subjects with the tacit acquiescence of the public.

Finally, as occurred in ancient Rome, colonial unrest grew and rebellion was put down ruthlessly on other planets, often over the objections of our own idealists, but they were outmaneuvered by demagogues and the ambitious would be imperators and dictators and bully pseudo-aristocrats at the fringes of our empire across the solar system. The lust for power on the part of a ruthless and scheming elite continued unabated.

But at the same time, while morals and the human spirit decayed, technology kept advancing. By this time, after two-hundred years our most advanced physicists had begun to master the techniques of Time Travel. The early expeditions into the past and future were like the voyages of Columbus, opening a new world, and a chain of idealistic movements, religions and belief systems flourished in the wonder which accompanied it. But then our society began to decay from within and from without. The military arm across the interplanetary empire began to be the tail that waved the dog and soon threatened to overthrow the democratic Republic—the United States of Earth with its Senate and its World Parliament. The Supreme Galactic Military Command, headed by an ambitious general who became Supreme Military Governor of Mars, Caesarion Asmodeus Khannis, also a Senator as well as general began to be more and more independent and uncontrollable, seducing our corporations and businesses elites on earth drawn ever closer into a seamless military-industrial-financial-technological complex, to seek to the overthrow of the Global Democracy, universal liberty and our equitable economic system and re-introduce rule of, by and for the elite, ever concentrating wealth and power in the hands of fewer and fewer—the renascent Synarchic Oligarchy. I was of the Republican party and led the opposition to them. Under the Universal Peace Treaties, all nations were required to disarm and dismantle all weapons within the Rubican Zone, basically meaning on earth and the moon, named after the earlier peace President Rubicana. Caesarion Khannis led his Interplanetary Legions to pacify all of Mars, and then refused to disband the Legions on completion of the campaign. He bribed and corrupted many Senators and Members of the World Parliament to push measures uniting all powers in his hands, making him Imperator, strategos autokrator, or dictator for life, and instituting his totalitarian power elite—the Axis of Synarchy. Together with his twin sister Lilith, a woman of unbridled wickedness and ruthlessness who, like the Pharoahs of old and the corrupt Caesars such such as Claudius and Messalina and Caligula and Agrippina formed an incestuous sexual union between an unholy brother and sister with a view to begetting an unholy dynasty, he began his toxic reign. He led his Legions, ignoring every constitutional warning, across the Rubican Zone boundary to intimidate the now defenseless earth with a Reign of Terror against all who would oppose him. A civil war ensued to preserve the Democracy and the Republic. Ultimately the loyal forces rallied and overcame their softness and vulnerability, and by virtue of their superior brainpower and staying power, aided by forces from loyal interplanetary colonies which provided arms, resources and armies, Caesarion was defeated. He fled and our forces hunted him. However, being a military man he planned for all contingencies. He had a Time Machine built in his compound as an escape mechanism, and when our loyal forces finally overran his forces, he and his consort sister Lilith were nowhere to be found. Later it was determined that they alone had escaped to the 21st Century. His underlings ultimately betrayed his plan, which was, like the Terminator myth of the ancient cinema, to abort the creation of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly in the 21st Century, which was the foundation stone on which two centuries of Universal Peace and Civilization were founded, and in its stead provoke a World War Three through a Clash of Civilizations, pitting the Triple Axis of China, Russia and Iran against the Western and Allied Powers, seducing and manipulating their elites. Callously inflaming, exploiting and then betraying the Confucian, Islamic and Orthodox civilizations and faiths in an attempt to impose his Axis of Synarchy upon the world as a fait accomplis by force. He sought to pre-empt the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and its glorious progeny in the flow of Time and History, replacing it with a Universal Empire and Dictatorship, before the World Republic—under the Constitution of the United States of Earth could be founded and maintained. For this purpose he has been working these past fifteen years, spinning out his conspiracies and terrorist designs, leading elites in coups against their constitutions, turning religion against religion and rising powers against declining powers, dividing, conquering, manipulating and exploiting—secretly gathering more and more of the threads of power into his own hands—like Saron of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, fashioning "One Ring to Rule them All" and placing that one ring upon his own finger at the expense of all hope for human liberty, peace and progress. The detonation in Jerusalem was his work and designed to put a stop to your own work. Finally, thanks to your efforts and the power of the Silmaril Crystal, we have been able to isolate and capture him and his consort Lilith. You are perplexed that I am so exhausted and so old yet so full of vigor and joy today. That is the reason. Caesarion has been unmasked as Mustafa, or an impersonating double who had long ago murdered and disposed of the real Mustafa and with his advanced biotechnology assumed his bodily identity, and who has been playing a triple and quadruple game with the Chinese, Russians and Iranians. His consort Lilith had come from nowhere to marry the elderly Baron Maddox and assume the tabloid celebrated identity of Baroness Lilith Maddox to the credulous world, allthewhile utilizing his billions and media empire to further the global conspiracy hand-in-glove with Khannis. These men around you are the Senatorial Marines who have joined me from my own 23rd Century. I myself had returned from the future to take up the position of Magister Ludi while waiting for the inevitable crisis in which to catch him in our net—hoist him on his own petard. With the help of Mohammad we have prevailed upon the Supreme Leader of Iran to turn him and his consort Lilith over to us. I have risen beyond myself today because my work is done. We will take Caesarion and Lilith back to the Senate for trial in our own century and our own world. We have not defeated death, though we may rival Methuselah in lifespan. Still no one, good or evil is forever. Howevermuch we may clothe ourselves in self-assertion and pretensions, we all remain naked before death, not to mention truth. I know I will die soon after my brief stay in your century and as the wear of the time difference takes its toll on my aged body, but I will die a good and honourable death. Perhaps I will have another chance to return before that happens. Now I must complete the last great task of my life... Τετέλεσται...!"

Yes, as Yeats put it "Things fall apart,"—decay, corruption and entropy ensue, though the force of life, struggles ever onward against them. Though we have approached nearer the dream of man becoming superman, realizing a greater percentage of the endless creative power of the human mind and spirit, we have never become gods, and we have never freed ourseves of the potential for evil. The basic human paradox persists: by the time the human mind begins to achieve its potential, the human body is, despite the advances of medical science and genetic evolution, ready for the dustbin. As individuals, before we can begin to do justice to our ideas, our bodies and our human institutions fail us; our short-lived brains begin to deteriorate and all the great thinking we were poised to achieve is lost forever. With age, of those possessed of spirit, vision and creative genius, the soul may grow younger and closer to the vital source, but what use is it to feel younger, smarter, when your body cannot sustain this and you are only taking your energy and accumulated wisdom to the grave? If only we could live as far as thought can reach! Only the Life Force draws us ever onward in spite of ourselves. Yet, all in all, the onward evolution of the human organism, human culture and society, the human intellect proceeds in its equivocal course, in service to the Life Force, coupled intrinsically to the infinite. Instinctively, all human endeavor transcends its self-destructive contradictions, little by little, mini-triumph by mini-triumph, improving the species through generational evolutionary reproduction, the sexual drive striving towards its spiritual anima, and the constant striving towards a mind's eye that shall see, not the physical world, but the purpose of life, and thereby enable the individual to work for that purpose, rather than thwarting it in self-inverted shortsightedness and mere transitory selfishness. Through the covenant of the generations, passing on the accumulated wisdom of generations and the institutions and cultural and intellectual capital of the ages, including the precious lore of the Illuminati, we strive to overcome the physical limitations of our bodies and our temporally limited selves, aided at times by new technologies such as the time travel I have revealed to you.

Sartorius, perhaps you are unaware of the Codes of Castalia and of Inner Shambahla. It is decreed and so constituted in the dimensions of the universe that this place is Neutral Ground, a Sanctuary from the Flow of Time, the Still Point of the Turning World and the Still Point of the Turning Cosmos—belonging to neither the Past or the Future, nor the Present but transcending each and immune to the laws and constraints of each. Thus in my Office of the Magister Ludi I would violate that Neutrality if I were to take up my role of pursuer and prosecutor of Caesarion. Thus to fulfill my responsibility to my own century I must resign this office. Thus I am taking off these robes and donning those of a Senator of the United States of Earth. I must take Caesarion into custody and return him to the justice of our own time."

"Am I to go with you?" Sartorius asked.

"Not now. Someday perhaps. Sartorius, we cannot continue disjoint in time interminably. The past, the present, and the future cross in this Interzone once a fluctuating aeon. Lord Goethe must return to the past, I must return to the future, each to fulfill our callings. Our work of the moment, of the crisis is done. Perhaps there shall be other meetings, we do not know. But Time will not leave us orphans; it will not leave us forsaken. We shall clasp hands and celebrate our baptism in the River of Time again, father to son, son to father, brothers in eternity, and with the other hand we shall pass the Crystal Baton, the baton of the endless spiral relay race of civilization, passed from generation to generation, keeping alive the faith and hope and trust of those who have preceded us and those who shall follow in the Great Universal Tradition, the Great Universal Brotherhood and Sisterhood of the Human Spirit. Each must pull at the oar of his own time, yet of a single crew, a common family, that the great ship of human civilization and progress shall not founder."

"Who then will take your place as the Magister Ludi?" asked Sartorius.

"That, I do not and cannot know. It is in the hands of the Council of the Immortals and of the Fates—a power beyond our knowledge and control. Only Destiny, revealed only in Time, will inform us of that outcome. If the office comes to you, Sartorius, I hope you will succeed better than I have, if not, help him who follows. Though some praise me, and there have been some small successes in averting ultimate disaster, I know I have failed in the larger task, the task of bringing the spirit to the helm of life—transfusing and interfusing its force into our arts and learning, our cultures, our religions, our economics and statecraft—should the office come to you, Sartorius, remember the office must rise above itself—rising from that of the Magister Ludi to become that of the Magister Vitae, the teacher and enabler of creative life, and not the curator and emergency repairman of the fossils of such life as I have been—I know I am only the Baptist in this regard, so to speak, and I know there will follow one greater, who will bring with him, and to our Time-Space, a greater life, a surer path towards the infinite.

But should the office come to you, Sartorius, don't doubt and despair of yourself or your own weakness. Remember that you need not pretend to be some superhuman savior possessed of superpowers; you may rely on immense powers beyond yourself working through you which shall come at a proper moment to your aid and to the world's aid; human salvation shall not come from any deus ex machina dropping out of the skies and into human history, but salvation shall come from humanity's own rebirth and repossession of its own inner strength and infinite spirit; humanity's salvation shall not come from without but from within; be but a light that shines in the darkness; you only need to be a catalyst to those powers, not a god, to enable humanity's escape from damnation."

"Magister, you have been to the future. What I want to know is how men who will come after me will live. Will anything we do make a difference for them? Will they be any happier?" Sartorius asked.

"Not in the true sense of that word, but by your actions they will still have the hope of achieving happiness, and the onward adventure of the trying." he replied.

"Can you speak more clearly?"

"It is impossible—human words are like shadows and shadows cannot explain light, and between the shadow and the light stands the opaque body of this world from which words are born."

"I cannot be satisfied with your answers." Sartorius complained.

"Dissatisfaction was put into the hearts of men by the God who created them, but this dissatisfaction, one of the qualities which make Man a likeness of God's image, is also a quality of that very God towards his Creation—hence his inclusion in it of the dimension of Time, the Arrow of Time, and its possibility of forward Evolution and Transformation; and his Creation has grown stronger, not weaker with the flow of Time, though that flow inherently contains its periodic rearward eddyings and riptides."

3

Then the Magister Ludi conducted Sartorius to a smallish chapel in the palace residence. Its walls were entirely of white with gold trimmings and its windows were of ornate stained glass and crystal. The light flooded into the room in a kaleidoscopic cascade of polycolour. He motioned for Sartorius to take a seat and indicated that he would return shortly. Sartorius took a seat in a tanned leather chair and occupied himself observing the light as it fell about him through the stained glass, its beams shifting as the wind outside wafted the branches and leaves of the tree just outside the window. Then Sartorius paced about before the window until noticing a small bookshelf. He took up one of the books out of curiosity. He read its title embossed in gold upon Moroccan leather: De Homunculo Epistola. He began to leaf through it—within the book lay an impenetrable code, its sketch of a mindscape whose layers emerged one on another as from mist, a distant country of painful complexity, an all but unimaginable flow of letters and of script, not to mention images sketched or drawn in a full spectrum of pastels, visions of the unsuspected breaches in the Creation, where something else had had a chance to be luminously glimpsed—ways in which God chose to hide within the light of day, not an encyclopedia exhaustive of its subject, but an episodic record of chance encounters with the details of God's unseen world. Its chapters and illustrations had such titles as "Listening to the Voices of the Dead," or "Passing through the Impenetrable Earth" and "Finding the Invisible Gateway." He browsed in the polytone light for a spell and then returned the book to its place, retaking his seat.

Then the Magister Ludi returned accompanied by Lord Goethe. "This is the Chapel of the Illuminati" Goethe informed Sartorius, "and our purpose is to induct you into the Ordo Templi Illuminatis. Do you accept our invitation to become one with our brotherhood, Sartorius?"

"And what is the purpose of the Order?" asked Sartorius.

"Some have criticized our Order as being radical, revolutionary and esoteric, but if anything it is the opposite. The goal of our Order is intrinsically conservative, the preservation of and revitalization of the life force, the Spiritus Mundi. But just as life never stands still, but in its unending rebirth and renewal it ever revisits its genetic origins to evolve towards an ever changing future, so does our Order seek to conserve and preserve our past human heritage through its vital onward evolution. Our brother, Lord Goethe coined a German word for it, 'Zukunftskonservatismus,' —that is a conservatism of the future, serene, removed from all crude sentimental atavism, with its eye on the new, playing with old cultural forms in order to rekindle their essential spirit and life force, rescuing them from oblivion. The goal and purpose of our order, in short Sartorius, is the preservation of a core of values around which, in beautiful forms, the new might crystallize.—Do you wish to join us in our calling, Sartorius?—Do you elect to share in our affinities?"

"I do." he responded.

"This Order offers esoteric instruction through dramatic ritual, guidance in a system of illuminated ethics, and fellowship among aspirants to the Great Work of realizing the divine in the human. The Order is in possession of one supreme secret. The whole of its system is directed towards communicating to its members, by progressively plain hints, this all-important instruction. The main objects of the instruction are two. It is firstly necessary to explain the universe and the relations of human life therewith. Secondly, to instruct every man and woman how best to adapt his or her life to the cosmos and to develop his faculties to the utmost advantage. I accordingly will introduce you to a series of rituals, Minerval, Man, Magician, Master-Magician, Perfect Magician and Perfect Initiate, Master Steward, which should illustrate the course of human life in its largest philosophical aspect. Do you accept this undertaking, Sartorius?"

"I do."

"You the candidate when you depart from this place will be instructed in the value of discretion, loyalty, independence, truthfulness, courage, self-control, indifference to circumstance, impartiality, skepticism, openness to all things, universal love, reverence for light and for enlightenment, and other virtues, and at the same time assisted to discover for yourself the nature of the Supreme Secret, the proper object of its employment and the best means for insuring success for its use. This Supreme Secret offers a rational basis for universal brotherhood and for universal religion. It puts forward a scientific statement which is a summary of all that is at present known about the universe by means of a simple, yet sublime symbolism, artistically arranged. It also enables each man to discover for himself his personal destiny, indicates the moral and intellectual qualities which he requires in order to fulfill it freely, and finally puts in his hands an unimaginably powerful weapon which he may use to develop in himself every faculty which he may need in his work. Sartorius, do you pledge yourself to seek and defend and use with the utmost trust and act as joint custodian of this Supreme Secret?"

"I do." he rejoined, with an tone of reverence.

Thereupon the Magister Ludi performed the Gnostic Mass and inducted Sartorius into the Mysteries. They showed him the secret signs, gestures, handclasps and passwords by which members of the Order recognize and communicate with one another. With Goethe at his side as his Sponsor, they followed the Magister Ludi, adorned in his robes of state, white and gold, wearing a pointed pontifical hat and bearing the golden scepter. They then mounted a golden staircase adorned with crystal resplendent in light, each step of which corresponded to the Degrees of Perfection which every member was to pass, the Degrees and Stations of Enlightenment and Honours of the Order, which were inscribed at the base of each step, and which Sartorius recited with each step upwards along the Three Flights as the onward stations to which he would strive, as follows:

The Man of Earth Triad

0°—Minerval

Imparted the mysteries of attraction and conception.

I°—Man & Brother

Imparted the mysteries of birth.

II°—Magician

Imparted the mysteries of life.

III°—Master Magician

Imparted the mysteries of death.

IV°—Perfect Magician & Companion of the Holy Royal Arch of Rainbow

P.I.—Perfect Initiate, or Prince of Shambhala

Outside all Triads

Knights of the East & West

The Lover Triad

V°—

Sovereign Prince Rose-Croix, and Knight of the Pelican & Eagle

Knight of the Red Eagle, and Member of the Senate of Knight Hermetic Philosophers

VI°—

Illustrious Knight Templar of the Order of Brahman, the Dao, Baqaa and Companion of the Holy Graal

Grand Inquisitor Commander, and Member of the Grand Tribunal

Prince of the Supreme Secret

VII°—

Theoreticus, and Very Illustrious Sovereign Grand Inspector General

Magus of Light, and Bishop of Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica

Grandmaster of Light, and Inspector of Rites & Degrees

Adoration of the Phallus of the Sun

De Natura Deorum

The Hermit Triad

VIII°—

Perfect Pontiff of the Illuminati

Epopt of the Illuminati

The Lesser Work of Sol

De Nuptiis Secretis Deorum Cum Hominibus

IX°—Initiate of the Sanctuary of the Gnosis

Sexual magical techniques are taught, including the creation of a Homunculus

Mastry of the Texts:

Agape vel Liber C vel Azoth

De Homunculo Epistola

De Arte Magica

IX° Emblems and Modes of Use

X°—Rex Summus Sanctissimus

XI°—Initiate of the Nth Degree

XII°—Frater Superior, Master Steward, Magister Ludi, and Outer Head of the Order

At the top of the staircase all three men, Sartorius, Goethe and the Magister Ludi bowed on their knees before the Silmarilon Crystal, resplendent in refractive light. Then the Magisterrose and asked : "Do you accept the Universal Light into your Heart and Mind?"

"I do."

Then the Magister Ludi took up three glasses of wine and placed one in each man's hands, saying:

"Arise, Robert Sartorius, Man & Brother, Entered Apprentice of the First Degree, Knight of the East and the West, Knight Templar of the Order of the Illuminati!—Follow the Good, follow the Beautiful, follow the True—Follow the Light wherever it leads—Fare not well but fare forward, Sartorius, following that which it is honourable to follow!" And with that they all laughed and shook hands all round and downed together their immaculate glasses of fine wine in a joyful communion.

4

Just as Sartorius, Goethe and the Magister Ludi re-entered the main hall of the Magister's Palace six Senatorial Marines of the United States of Earth in uniforms of dress crimson and weapons of unknown nature to Sartorius displayed at the ready entered with the immobilized body of Caeserion Khannis, known previously to Sartorius as Mustafa, levitated in a mobile manacling cuboid-tesseract cerulian force field, from which only his head was free to move and respond to the outside world. Behind him similarly constrained trailed the immobilized body of his twin consort and co-conspirator Lilith, formerly known to Sartorius as the Baroness Lilith Maddox. The Magister Ludi, no longer the Magister Ludi but simply Abor Linkin, Presiding Senator of the Senate of the United States of Earth, 23rd Century, addressed him:

"Well Caeserion—it has been a long time."

"Not long enough."

"That remains to be seen..." returned Senator Linkin "...as you can see by the change of my dress, I speak no longer as the Magister Ludi, but by this insignia in the role of the Chief Prosecuting Officer of the Senate of the United States of Earth, which you have so dishonored that I will no longer address you as Senator, an office which you will find to have already been removed ...I am arresting you and your consort in the name of the Senate of the United States of Earth on the charges of High Treason, War Crimes, Breach of Galactic Peace and Crimes Against Humanity. We will be transporting you back to our own century to stand trial before the Senate presently."

"You should live so long."

"If not I, then others, no matter. Justice lives though men die."

"The future will tell." Caeserion sneered defiantly.

"As I say, Caesarion, I am placing you under formal arrest. As such I am required to Mirandize you both: You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in criminal proceeding before the High Senate. You have a right to counsel and may remain silent until an advocate is appointed for you. Do you have anything you wish to say at this time?"

Caeserion remained silent, except for a sneering wheeze and defiant grimace, scowling with antipathy at his captor. Lilith maintained a sneering and resentful silence, comforting herself only with her secret hopes of vengeance.

"Very well..." began Senator Linkin, "...Let me say first that while your freedom will never be restored, you have a small chance of retaining your lives in imprisonment within a hermetically sealed dimensional Tesseract Prison dissociated irrevocably from our timespace—that is, beyond all possibility of contact and intercourse with time, causality and the world—in effect a non-existence as a virtural ghost, yet with the liberty of your personal lives within the bounds of your confinement. This will be possible to you...If, and I repeat only If, you come completely clean and reveal to us one hundred percent of what you have done since absconding in time travel from our century. Any omission or fabrication will cancel the deal, mind you. With full cooperation a modicum of humane leniency may still be possible."

"You old fool!..." shouted Lilith violently, "...If you had the balls or the guts to be my nemesis you would have killed me outright already! I have only contempt for your kind—hypocrites!...Raubtiere mit zerbrochene Zähne!"

"No doubt you are still hoping even now for a "jailbreak" by Time Incursion by your minions, Caeserion and Milady, and that may be the root of your continued obstinacy and unreasonableness under your circumstances. You may rest assured, however, that we have closed forever that Dimensional Portal which you would be wont to make use of. We have already traced your every movement in timespace in the Acastic Records and we have undone your dirty work. If you show cooperation and remorse your life may yet be spared." Linkin continued.

"Fool!—if you know everything then why waste your time asking us? Enough of your cheap good-cop, bad-cop charade." she replied, spitting in a failed attempt to reach Linkin's face.

"Well, Caeserion, let me tell you what we do know and what we have already undone and let's see if that will affect your motivation. We know all of your Time Incursions on Mars and we have located the Time Weapon and the Solar Flare Induction Cannon within the Grand Monolith with which you generated solar flares and sunspots to disable our communications at critical moments and cover your movements. You may be interested to view this video of the United Nations Mars Expedition which is at this moment dismantling all the equipment which you cached there in your time travel to eighteen millennia ago during your Governorship of Mars. If you do not believe me, perhaps you will believe the images of the shattered remains of the Red Crystal Ring which you had installed there—it is quite irrevocably demolished!"

Caeserion sat silently in the levitated force field which manacled him, maintaining a perfect poker face.

"And..." Linkin continued with forcefulness, "...we have traced your Time Expedition to the Qin Dynasty of China and have located the Time Weapon and the Yellow Crystal Ring which you secreted in the tomb of the First Emperor—Qin Shi Huang Di, on his burial more than two-thousand years ago—you see here in this box are the shattered remains of the Yellow Crystal Ring which you placed there in your nefarious planning—worthless now—which Premiere Wen has just delivered to us. You shall not be fulfilling your promise to the First Emperor of transporting him in time travel into this present to serve as your lieutenant and vassal—I think you can appreciate it would never have worked anyway as a man of his absolute character was never suited to the role of a subaltern. You see the trouble with you people is that there is always room, logically and psychologically, for only one absolute dictator, and you reptiles will devour yourselves until there is only one left.—So, you see, with two of the three Crystal Rings destroyed, the third, the Black Crystal Ring of Mordor will be worthless to you, even should it survive our countermeasures. It would be far better for you to cooperate."

Caesarion struggled to control himself, a minute apoplectic trembling just discernable beneath his studied sange froid.

"This is your last chance, Caesarion..." said Linkin as he shook and rattled the box of broken glass shards from the Yellow Crystal Ring, "...listen...Don't you think the Fates are trying to tell you something?"

"Fate does not speak. She carries a lethal weapon and points us to our proper path with a wordless motion of its muzzle, and we comply silently." Lilith replied with a contemptuous smile, as beautiful as it was horrific.

"Do you have anything to tell me, Caesarion?—I warn you that after we return public fury may not allow me to make such an offer again."

Caesarion remained wordless in his sneering immobility.

"I expected as much, but I needed to go through the formalities.—Now if you will excuse me I must attend to entering the final codes to activate our time transport facility to take us forward to our own time and the High Senate Detention Centre." said Linkin, exiting the room and leaving Caesarion, whom Sartorius had first known as impersonating Mustafa, alone with him and the six Marines for a short interval. The two men eyed each other in profound embarrassment. Then Caesarion spoke:

"Sartorius, I can't expect you to understand. You Americans think you understand Republics, but what was fashioned into the Republic of the United States of Earth had corroded into a cruelty forever beyond your understanding. Each President became more and more a sacrificial animal, his own freedom taken, his life brought under an impossibly stringent code of conduct and control, a lifeless puppet actor incapable of catalyzing life himself, and given to resentful and spasmodic episodes of spiteful brutality, hoping in the end, only for death as deliverance. Those fallen democratic angels could never understand how "power" could have been the living expression of the communal will, invisibly exercised in the darkness that surrounds each soul, in which atonement is a necessary term. Unless one has performed atonement equal to what he has exacted from others, there remains an imbalance in nature. I have paid my penance, Sartorius, or am paying and I shall return to power!...

...Sartorius, suppose there was a corrupted and corroded Republic no longer capable of instinctive life—a puppet dying on its own strings. Suppose a deliverer came to reunite that land, spiritually and instinctively dead, with the energy of its origin in a newer Imperial Renaissance—a rebirth of instinctual energy as the Emperors brought to Rome or the autocracy of Qin Shi Huang Di brought to China. It is life itself Sartorius—don't you understand:—Life against death—Power against Death; Suppose there are living in this solar system agents of this emperor-to-be, perhaps waiting in various centuries, waiting to be brought forward—transited in time at the cosmic crisis—dedicated only to promoting this Emperor, this leader to a return to life, to a return to power—no single life matters, no numbers of lives matter, no code of honour, no ancient tradition—only these agents' need that their Prince and Principal prevail at all costs...After the atonement is paid, wouldn't the ends forgive the means, Sartorius?..."

Sartorius was silent, unsure how to understand, unsure how to respond. Then Caesarion began to rant at him:

"...No, I can see you are incapable of understanding, But you needn't look so smug, Sartorius. This story isn't over yet. Don't imagine the Senate will dare to convict me—they know well whom to fear and from whom their bread is buttered—just as do your putrid American politicians. Your American Dream is simply the biggest Ponzi Scheme of all! Just look at your World Financial Crisis—Financial Crooks brought down your whole world economy—leeching seven trillion out of it off the backs of your suffering people—but even after a reform President and Congress are elected your "Feds" are doing more to protect the Perpetrators on Wall Street than to prosecute them. Give them another term and the imbeciles will be falling for the old demagoguery, the old conservatives ousting the reformers, protecting the financial kleptocracy raping the people, and the credulous idiots will lap it up when they say they are doing it all to "protect the public and jobs!" And the Insiders are already aboard the Gravy Train and it has pulled out of the station without you and your so-called 'people.' Who can deny the morons deserve what they get? You will drown in your own shit until someone with absolute authority—our Axis of Synarchy—cleans out the Augean Stables that is your body politic!—You have no idea what you are heading into, Sartorius! Prepare for the Götterdämmerung—the Decline of the West! You puerile idealists who think there is an angel who will resolve everything with a Hollywood happy ending make me want to vomit! You simpletons with your goodness and faith, your spirituality and your science and technology, expecting as your entitlement the perfection of Progress and fulfillment of your utopias—I have been thrust from such delusions and will thrust the world from it. If I go down we all go down! Do you hear me Sartorius! You children of nature's world drift in a dream, all is smooth, no interruption, no discontinuities, but imagine the Fabric of Time torn open like a raped hymen, and yourselves swept through it, no way back, only death, the orphans and exiles of time. Can you understand me Sartorius? We must do what we must. We are strong enough and desperate enough to do what we must, however shameful, to get from one end to the other of our disjoint journey—to emerge into a new history, into newer times—and the ends forgive the means. You and I are Brothers in Hell Sartorius, only your path is paved with the good intentions that I am too honest to pretend to. The world you take to be 'the' world will soon die, drowned in its own shit, in radioactive poison and in the venom of the predators and descend into Hell, and all of History after that will properly belong only to the History of Hell."

"I'm not your brother, Mustafa. I might have been had you chosen another path. I choose another and other brothers." Sartorius replied.

"Come, come Caesarion—No more of your hysteric satanic ravings designed to frighten children. We are men here, not your dupes or infants. If you can do as you threaten to do then do it. We will do as we have to do as men and die if we must, though I am sure it will be otherwise. But until that time we will not fall prey to your hallucinations or ravings. Let's go!—It's time for you to face the music!" said Senator Linkin as he re-entered the room and motioned the Senatorial Marines to take forward their prisoner.

Then Abor Linkin turned to Sartorius as he led away the column of guards and his prisoner, saying in departing: "The price of Freedom and of Civilization is Eternal Vigilance—fare not well but fare forward, Sartorius, we shall meet again—Vale!" Then they evanesced into nothingness.

5

As the hour of departure drew nearer Jack, Andreas and Eva grew more anxious as Sartorius failed to appear as expected. Finally, word arrived at the guesthouse requesting Jack and Andreas to come immediately to the Grand Retort, and Mohammad stayed to take care of Eva. When they arrived they found Sartorius unconscious on a divan attended by several doctors and nurses, if not dead as near to dead as he might be. He had apparently suffered a massive heart attack and had only the flickering consciousness of delirium as he struggled to keep back from the final descent into death.

They watched over him for two hours, as he intermittently woke out of unconsciousness then drifted back into it. Jack had a hard time controlling himself during the waking intervals as he spoke painfully to them in starts and stops, choking on his feelings and bodily pain. Sometimes it was too much for him and he would leave the room when the impulse to cry overwhelmed him.

Once when Jack was gone Sartorius grew more lucid and was able to speak for a longer time to Andreas: "Andreas, finish it! I know you will, more than you do yourself. Years ago when I knew I was on the last leg of my journey, I expected someone to come, to follow on from me in my mission, and you came. I know Jack will walk part of the way with us, but even though he is my son, he has another path of his own, a different path onward. I recognized you when you came, Andreas. I knew you when you did not recognize yourself. No, no, don't say it. I know you doubt this, as you reject the idea of fate...we all did...But what are doubts to me? I know Andreas—you will finish it. You don't need to promise me, you youself are that promise, just being who you are, what you are." Then he lapsed again into unconsciousness.

Finally after hours, it seemed the inescapable moment came and Jack, as if the strength had suddenly gone from his legs, fell to his knees, flung himself on his father's breast and frantically begged him to fight on, breaking down into silent tears when there was no response. How did this happen, how did this happen, words that never fail to spring from our lips when we are confronted with something irremediable. We ask how it happened, a desperate futile attempt to postpone that awful moment when we must accept the truth, we ask how it happened, as if we could replace death with life, exchange what is with what should be. The doctors said there was no hope and that it was only a matter of time before he would be gone. They said they had not summoned Eva for fear that the shock would endanger the baby and bring on a miscarriage, and enjoined them to break the news to her when the conditions were right. They kept vigil over him for the next three hours, trying desperately to raise him to consciousness or to share even a few final words with him. At last, after another half-hour he seemed to quieten and the pain seemed to release from the grimaces of his face. His eyes opened slightly and his lips were seen to move as if attempting to speak. Jack clasped his hand in his and pleaded with him to fight on. Jack agonized and pleaded that Sartorius must fight to live on for his and Eva's and his unborn son's love. Sartorius was too weak to respond but mouthed his words in futile attempt after attempt. Finally, his eyes seemed to brighten out of their dullness and he was able to whisper faintly in Jack's ear:

"Jack...Jack...my love...and for Eva...Andreas...I won't...get there...Τετέλεσται...you... finish it...the work for me...for us...finish it!"

And that was all. Jack's last sight of his father was clasping his left hand to his lips and seeing his own tears stream down the back of his motionless hand while hearing his last words whispered to Andreas who held his right hand and whispered in futile answer into his already deaf and deadened ear. Andreas felt for a pulse along the jugular of the neck and at the wrist, then closed the eyes with the tips of his fingers. Andreas began to make the pronouncement, but cut himself off pursing his lips towards Jack. But the truth had entered his soul before Andreas could turn towards him, and he knew that no doctor or medicine would, with all his striving, put the breath into that body again.

For seven hours Jack sat motionless in front of his father's pale body. All except Eva came and went and took their last glimpse, Andreas shepherding them in small groups. Jack never moved. Finally, towards dawn Andreas came again and placed a hand upon his stooped shoulders. He could not speak for he did not know what to say. Jack must have been aware of his being there but he took no apparent notice, nor of anything around him save his father before him. There they sat immeasurably, silent and still, he on the floor and Andreas in the chair behind him, the dead man half covered beneath a sheet, for a third. Andreas fancied that his presence had disturbed Jack's contemplation of his father's face, only half concealed beneath the rough sheet, not quite out of sight. Andreas looked as Jack gazed upon the lifeless face and the stiffening body long and long. Time had never seemed so without measure, silence had never seemed so noiseless.

Andreas put his hand on Jack's shoulder, but he returned no sign of his presence. Then Andreas left and returned carrying a tureen of soup, then brought it to Jack who had not eaten since the prior day's breakfast. He softly removed the cover. He did not speak, for again he did not know what to say or how he could urge the homely need for food on one so rapt in grief. He knew from his soldiering days that when grief so overran itself, that it was important to keep some tether to the world of the living intact. He put the spoon to Jack's lips, which instinctively downed the first spoonful, then with a sort of cry he spat out the remnant and flung the spoon against the floor, throwing himself across the corpse in the next instant.

"He will never eat again—never!" he moaned and wept in such a terrible manner that Andreas feared for his mental health.

"I wish there was anything that I or any of us could do to comfort you, but it is past human comfort." Andreas half-whispered to him.

"He was my father, Andreas. but for many years we weren't as good and friendly to each other as father and son should have been, and I am not sure—not sure, that he ever knew how much I loved him." spoke out Jack fitfully. And he cried aloud with an exceeding bitter cry.

"He knew, Jack, he knew." said Andreas, embracing him fully, then drawing him upwards.

He drew Jack from the body and sat him down in the chair, again embracing him fully across the shoulders. Then he went out the door and walked slowly along the hallway to rejoin the others. Now, alone, he felt the recoil from all of his self-control. Shuffling along the dark corridors he felt that he would encounter the passing shade or ghost of Sartorius and hear it all explained, how he came to die and what did and would ensue, and how he now felt and thought and what he wished him to do. This he shook off only as he opened the far door and the light from within poured out upon his face. As he rejoined them he wanted to cry; to get to some private place and let loose the sorrow gathered up within his heart; but he could hardly do so there, and he knew that he now had to be strong for Eva and the others.

After that Nemo came and announced that after so long and unexpected a delay it was imperative to depart at once if they were to arrive in Lhasa via the underground Sea of Agarthi and Upper Shambhala beneath the Roof of the World in time to fulfill the needs of the endgame. Jack assisted Eva on board the Nautilus, telling her the agreed upon story that Sartorius had gone ahead to fulfill a requirement of the endgame and that he would join them later. They boarded the Nautilus and departed...

...What was about to emerge from the night behind the inward curve of the Earth?...fog from canals and underground rivers and passageways rose towards the travellers. A smudged and isolated copse of tellurian willows emerged for a moment...Drifts of mist in the distance bleared the phosphorescent light of the waves of the Sea of Agarthi and the light began to break into suggestions of a city hidden behind what was visible here, sketched in the shadows of low-lying islands covered with shrub...nothing so sacred or longingly sought for as Shambhala, stained with a persistent component of black in all of the subterranean light that swept the lowland, flowing over dead cities, mirror-still canals...black shadows, tempest and visitation, prophecy, madness...it was like passing through an all-surrounding photographic negative—to some interior darkness as watery as dusk.

When they reached the shores of the Agarthi Sea, which lay directly beneath the Tibetan region of Lhasa, they put to port in the rimtown port of Agarthi-Pirea, the lower-harbor of the borderland city of Upper Shambhala which lay beneath the eternal glacier of the high Himalaya. If one were to travel downward from the surface of the earth in those Tibetan and Nepalese mountains, one would perceive as one entered the Telluric Interior, the rapid transition of climatic zones, from glacier to tundra, then grasslands, telluric trees akin to giant mushrooms, and an arcology of plantations leading to a smaller arcology of settlement, where since ancient times the telluric natives, dwellers of the Telluric Interior, were wont to convene a yearly market, bringing Yellow Hat and Red Hat lamas trading grains and surface products for countertrades of luminous fish, giant crystals of geomantic properties, unrefined ores of various rare or useful metals, precious gemstones, and mushrooms unknown to the fungologists of the surface world, many of which possessed hallucinogenic powers, or were strong in giving aid of spiritual visionary enhancements to the holy men. Here, in Shambhala, is where the "Hidden Peoples" live, inside their tellurian rock dwellings, where stray humans who visit them never find their way out unguided, and who in the local idiom of the surrounding tribes who from time to time had consort with them, were referred to as the "Parallelians."

Here the "stone forests" of rock pillars alternated with the dune-shaped hills covered with sand and dust. There were no trees, only a fungal cactus vegetation. The stone passages and walls were covered with a profuse abundance of anthodite crystal flowers, like the intricate and most delicate oriental jade carvings of flower-life, but issuing entirely from a chthonic nature or dark nature god, floriform, dense and feather-like, or like flowered vines of a stone ivy that wound everywhere, glimmering and flourescing in a mysterious light of unknown origin. A few chthonic animal flocks, species unknown to the surface, scuttered along the shadowy ridgelines, where the subterranean aboriginals had learned to half-domesticate them for food and a kind of dark milk.

As they followed the chthonic streambeds there was evidence of a great shrinkage of the water supply in recent years. Some attributed it to global warming, some to more obscure curses and powers. The streams here have three beds, i.e. one they run in now, shrunken to a trickle, a wider one they run in after downflow from the heaviest rainy and melting seasons, and a much larger one, titanic, that they ran in at some unknown time in the primordial past, perhaps the raging deathflow from some doomed ice-age whose time an unforgiving fate had passed by.

The people did not show themselves. Only an occasional column of smoke revealed the presence of an assumed camp or cooking fire, or the half-face of a soiled child would be seen defying its parents by looking timidly out from behind a column of stone at the passing strangers. Explorers found no fixed dwellings and no evidence of written language, and only a very few had held verbal intercourse with these sometimes shyest, and sometimes most savage of tribes. It was a world unimagined before—of emptiness and endless dark columns of rock scoured by the chthonic winds into surreal shapes drowned in a dense-flowing iridescent light. It seemed, Nemo explained to Jack, that almost nothing was known of these liminal underworld or otherworld clans—no surface dweller ever visited and returned, and the more civilized dwellers of the deeper realms of Middle Earth were equally taken aback in venturing into such savage country so far from their central homelands. Indeed they produced no writings and held no fairs; this was one of the mute places of the world.

Here is the home of the "Virgin Crystals" which have never been exposed to the light of day, or to the light of the sun or the moon or the stars. The former captives transited this bordertown with keen interest, crossing over the last subterranean river one by one in a small boat, like Charon in reverse, perhaps as Christ might have done upon resurrection, or Dante in return.

Two days later the world was amazed by the astounding images introduced live on the BBC by Etienne Dearlove, of the former Presidents Carter and Clinton, the former Secretaries General of the UN Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Anan and de Cuellar making their way jubilantly down the steps of the Potala Palace into the horde of reporters and camera crews below, rushing to capture their images and words upon regaining their freedom. Behind them were the less universally recognized faces of Jack, Andreas, Mohammad and Eva, who nonetheless soon became alike universally recognized celebrities on several billion television screens across the globe. They had emerged from the deepest chambers of the Potala Palace to join the ex-Presidents upon its roof. All assumed they had come by the same means, though the Quds Force, who knew that they had not, were content upon the revelation to keep silent and let the world believe what it wanted to believe.

From Lhasa they boarded an American presidential plane and were flown nonstop to Washington, D.C. where they were placed under medical observation at the Walter Reed medical facility, including intensive psychiatric support and care. In the days that followed they were the special guests of the President at Camp David where they continued under medical and psychiatric care in more comfortable circumstances and also underwent extensive debriefing by the representatives of the CIA and British MI6. The captive former Presidents and Secretaries General reported their confinement in the underground caves and vault complexes of the Iranian hidden nuclear facilities, which aside from the fact of their captivity itself, had been accompanied by gentle and humane treatment. The CIA and MI6 debriefers handling Jack, Andreas, Mohammad and Eva were initially non-plussed by their incredible accounts of some incomprehensible surreal adventure beneath the earth and in the heavens. They were dismissed as the collective follie and the mutually induced mass hallucination of a group under intense psychological stress, a phenomenon not unknown amoung long-term captives. It was believed that the captives were drugged during their captivity and during their transit from Qom to Lhasa and had lost contact with reality, and that these reports were but a collective psychological delusion. After weeks of psychiatric observation and counseling even the four themselves suspected that their memories were perhaps indeed clouded by delusion or perhaps rendered highly inaccurate. Jack and Andreas's account of Sartorius' death was interpreted officially to mean that he had most probably died of a heart attack induced by the massive stress of captivity and attempted escape in the underground cave complex of Fordo, outside Qom. The Iranian authorities insisted that they had no knowledge of his death or body and presumed that he had gotten lost in the subterranean caves in a probable escape attempt of which they had no verifiable knowledge or evidence. Finally, as was inevitable, they were all released to return to their homes.

# CHAPTER XVIII.

### Moscow/Beijing

### For Every Action...

The most vivid image of the end of the Hostage Crisis was the release of Premiere Medvedev and Premiere Wen Jiabao from their de facto imprisonment within their respective embassies in Teheran and their tumultuous welcome back home. After the Supreme Leader's televised address to the nation and the world following his declaration of his visitation by the Archangel Jibreel/Gabriel the Revolutionary Guards loyal to him dispersed the student demonstrators clandestinely supported by the Quds Force and Haghani operatives who had held them effective hostages. The final result was a full Saturnalia of political change in the three former Axis countries, Russia, Iran and China, though the change in the third came only after a much longer delay.

Premiere Medvedev returned home as a full hero. His state aircraft touched down at Scheremetchevo Airport in Moscow from Teheran and was instantly surrounded by surging crowds who broke through police barriers to greet and welcome him. He arrived in a nation mobilized for a war of which they had little understanding, other than the vague realization that their apparatchiki had somehow run amok and left the nation vulnerable to attack from the East. For those who knew the true inside story they knew that there had to be an inevitable reckoning in which the karma of retribution of the Siloviki, who had betrayed Medvedev and the liberals to the Iranian Quds Force and who had so disastrously conspired with the Princeling Taizi Dang Party in Beijing only to be so fatally betrayed, would catch up with them. Thus, Medvedev arrived on a wave of popular enthusiasm and admiration for the courage and wisdom of the liberal hero of the nation. They looked to him for the forthright and idealistic leadership that might save the nation in its hour of peril after the Siloviki establishment had been so ignominiously discredited. Though the Prime Minister was tacitly implicated he kept his position by wrapping himself in the flag while denouncing and remanding for trial the principals of the Siloviki party conspirators. Aided by that eminence grise of the Kremlin, Surkov Slava, that profoundly realist, even Machiavellian Kremlin insider ever landing on his feet, sometimes called the Richelieu of Red Square, sometimes cynically called the Kremlin's Tallyrand, sometimes simply "The Puppeteer," Premiere Medvedev rose to public ascendency and named his liberal allies to the positions vacated by the disgraced and now fearful Siloviki. Shepherding the Siloviki captives into prison, Slava, also a flamboyant novelist, declared before the cameras: "There is nothing new under the sun. The Counterrevolution devours its children. Life imitates art...Plus ca la change..." Medvedev became the public face of the struggling nation, meeting with his NATO allies on global television while visible at home cleaning up the corruption and rot that had led to the invasion.

In Iran the change was not so visible, as the Supreme Leader remained firmly entrenched in command, but made visible the change of heart following his Revelation. There was nonetheless a change of President and government, a purging of the Quds Force of its Haghani School zealots, and a moderation in the ulama of both its aggressive pugnacity and its Messianic fervor in the darker direction of purposely provoking the kind of Armageddon scenario that would lead to the Koranically foretold battles of Gog and Magog-Ya'juj and Ma'juj, Christ Isa Al-Maseeh, Mahdi and al-Masih-ad-Dajjal the Anti-Christ and Sufyani, hastening the Apocalypse, Revelation, and the long-awaited, even yearned for, End-of-the-World. The Supreme Leader declared that the Revelation from Jibreel to 'Open the Gates of Ijtihad' clearly required an epoch of the further and upward evolution of Islam here on the sublunary plane, rather than any forced acceleration into Apocalypse. The old President who had been allied to the Haghani School was removed from office by the Supreme Leader, who then called a new election to replace him. The winner was a leading reformist in an election certified by the United Nations observers as generally free and fair, in stark contrast to the past.

After Mohammad had returned, following the momentous captivity and quest, to his worldly life, for a long time he had no contact from the realm of his Persian adventure. First he returned to his Sufi order as a new initiate, and then deepened his involvement with Isis and the others in the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance movement, still fervidly active in the wake of the tragedy in Jerusalem. When they asked him to contribute some of his writings to their new ecumenical publications, he found himself happy for an outlet to give vent to the experiences that still weighed upon his mind and soul, contributing several essays in joint collections. It was from this start that he then first contemplated the prospect of publishing the short story, almost a novella, "The Supreme Leader and the Three Messiahs" which he had written in the caves of Fordo, and which he had read aloud to the Supreme Leader in the presence of Khlorindah.

It was only when word of this project got out that he began to hear from his former captors. Mohammad's Pir called him in for a conference one morning and explained that Colonel Moussavi, the aide-de-camp of the Supreme Leader, had visited him in Egypt and had implored him to use his influence to discourage Mohammad from publishing the parable. Moussavi explained that the high circles in Teheran and Qom, who had become acquainted with the story through reports of its reading before the Supreme Leader, considered it blasphemous and powerful enough to seduce many Islamic youth from their faith, just as Dostoyevsky's parable of the Grand Inquisitor had lured many a Christian to unbelief and existentialism. The Colonel implored the Pir to use his influence as an guardian of Islam to suppress the danger. His Pir, a good man of progressive but by no means radical sympathies, came round to Moussavi's view and impressed upon Mohammad his duty as a Sufi to protect the faith.

Mohammad, drawing upon his Oxford University heritage of free speech at first refused the Pir's request and insisted that a good Muslim of faith should be mature enough to confront the deeper issues as a means of strengthening his faith and should not need the censorship of challenges. He even insisted that this was the essence of the Supreme Leader's call to "Open the Gates of Ijtihad" as well as the stance of Western liberals, or even such Puritans as Milton of the Areopagitica.

But reflecting upon this argument with his Pir in the following days, Mohammad in his inner heart was far from certain he was in the right, and often blamed himself for his stubbornness. He as a spiritual idealist had never felt far from the call of duty, even when his progressive views called him to substitute a higher spiritual or intellectual duty for the lower legalistic or conventional one. The matter weighed uncomfortably on him for several days.

At a Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance conference in Jerusalem the following week he found himself seated for dinner next to Ami Giyalon, and seeking some relief from his discomfiture, he asked for his advice on the matter.

"Duty!...Hah!" Ami barked back him.

"Yes, Duty. That is what my Pir insists I must heed. And as progressive as I might pretend to be, I cannot in my heart dismiss the claim." Mohammad lamented.

"Duty! You know Mohammad that I was a soldier and the chief of the security service here for many years before I had the courage to break with the unconditional ideas of duty everyone around me insisted upon. I have loved duty too, at times too, at times too much, but I will tell you it is something you have to grow beyond...Look, every step of progress means a duty repudiated, and a scripture torn up...duty is the primal curse from which we must redeem ourselves, the curse of unthinking obedience to a claim that is so often unworthy of our higher selves and our higher evolution as human beings. Reformers must repudiate duty as the highest claim over their judgment—in ninety-nine out of a hundred cases it will prove to be a false idol of the status quo. One's duty should be to both oneself and to the future higher progression of humanity, not to the inhibiting claims of existing institutions and ideologies. Duty to a theocratically constructed false image of God and to society's assertions of its authority equals slavery. Social progress relies on the boldness of individual wills and spirits seeking self-expression and growth in freedom."

"Well Ami, I'm not so sure I can be so uncompromisingly radical. I'm still an idealist who feels the pull of duty towards the highest ideal."

"Idealism...Hah!..." Ami retorted with a slight snort of a nostril, "...Look, Mohammad...let's assume a human community of a thousand individuals...a microcosm of any human society...Of a thousand persons 700 will be mindless Philistines, accepting things as they are, unthinking and not wanting to think, accepting and inflicting their mindless duties on those around them; then of the 1000 there will be 299 who will be muddled idealists, suppressing their terror and moral trembling at the truth that our entire institutions and relationships are built on a shameful scaffolding of lies and willful self-deceits. Our entire community rests on a muckheap of lies...the stupid are in a fearsomely overpowering majority, and they are led by the nose by the cunningly self-serving...Cowering at their terror at the deeper meaning of this, they suppress their fears of the truth about themselves, their failures and human nature by masking them and forcing the masks upon society as so-called ideals. Only one in a thousand is both a realist and possessed of a force of vision and will to see through this deception. With self-respect and self-confidence he confronts realities and braces himself to bear the rancor and opprobriusm of both the Philistines and the pseudo-idealists. Believe me, it is only such exceptional leaders of moral genius and courage that can blaze the path of moral pioneers, dare—Yes! Dare to repudiate so-called pseudo-duties, profane what was sacred, sanctify what was infamous, and usher in the next and higher dialectical stage of human evolution! We fighters on the frontiers, a few solitary individuals holding their positions like outposts, or far in the vanguard, we have to stand firm together! We must sharpen our pens into a stiletto and skewer them; I'll go man on man with them all, I'll dip my pen in venom and gall if need be and sling my inkstand right at their imbecile skulls!"

"Well, Ami, I feel more like one of your sheepish pseudo-idealists than your vanguard moral supermen, because I find it excruciating to repudiate to my Pir the duty he urges on me." said Mohammad plaintively.

"We all suffer like that, but you must rise above it." Amy goaded, "...Publish Mohammad!...You must stand like a sharpshooter at the outpost, having the courage to act entirely on your own—I tell you sincerely, that man is right who has allied himself most clearly with the future of human civilization; your book belongs to the future; in these times every piece of creative writing of force and merit such as yours should attempt to move the frontier markers of human civilization forward, and damn the reactionaries and the impeders who cannot see as far as you—in another hundred years they will mindlessly agree with you and idolize your achievement, howevermuch they crucify you today!"

For another week Mohammad found himself full of Ami's words and obstinate courage, and he refused another request from his Pir to destroy the manuscript. Yet, little by little his borrowed courage evaporated and began to fail him. He was more and more sheepish in his resistance as other of the Sufi brothers sat down with him at the Pir's behest to add weight to his request. By the next zikr Mohammad felt himself ready to cave in.

"We must put our faith ahead of our pride." the Pir counseld him in a fatherly tone, in the small gathering of the Sufi novices at the zikr.

Finally, Mohammad found himself without further power to resist. Being sentimental and accommodating by nature, little by little the accumulated pressure worked its way on him.

Taking out the manuscript from his desk at the Meditation Centre, he placed it in the hands of the Pir, responding in a fatigued voice of assent, "I place the manuscript in your hands, and in Allah's hands, to work his will as he may."

Thus it was that the next day, the Pir placed the thick manuscript, marked with editing symbols, crossings-out and inserted revisions, into the bubble-padded express-mail envelope, and handed it to the DHL courier on its way to an address in Teheran. Mohammad slumped into a muted depression of suppressed ambivilance for the next two weeks, but finally, little by little, he ceased to think of it.

In China, Premiere Wen Jiabo's return was no less enthusiastically greeted by the adoring crowds that met him at Terminal 3 of Capital Airport but upon the arrival of his entourage in Zhongnan Hai, the exclusive compound of the Party elite in central Beijing, Premiere Wen found himself in a limbo of virtural house arrest in his residence. His powers and functions had largely been assumed by Minister Luo Chunwang, who was directing the Emergency Committee that effectively guided the war effort. Though Wen was liberal in his views he was pragmatic in his accommodation to competing powers within the Party and did not protest publicly, though privately his opposition to the Siberian invasion was made known. Had the invasion been victorious Premiere Wen would undoubtedly have been discretely retired from the scene of power.

The ignominious defeat of the Siberian Expeditionary Force, however, changed that unrealized fate. Dismay within the public and the Party at the disastrous defeat dictated that heads must roll, and Minister Luo Chunwang was the most visible and outstretched neck that invited the axe. Within six months of the defeat he was humiliated and discharged from the Party and charged with crimes of conspiracy and treason against the state, which were avenged in the hills outside of Beijing by means of three pistol shots to the back of the head, for which his family were billed one kuai per bullet. The President kept a low profile and Premiere Wen was returned to power with a mandate for a thorough cleaning of the Taizi Dang Princeling Party who were seen as the "hei shou" or black hands who had led the country into its disaster and humiliation.

The horror of the unthinkable nuclear explosion in Jerusalem crystallized the world's conscience, and the fact that it had occurred in the course of the struggle to establish a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly galvanized support for that idealistic cause. In Moscow, Beijing, Teheran, Jerusalem, Brussels, London and Washington "Never Again" was the word of the day. If the horrors of World War I had been a powerful impetus in favor of the sentiment, however illusory, of making that episode "The War to End All Wars" and leading to the creation of the League of Nations, and those of WW II the impetus behind the creation of the United Nations, the threatened WW III so narrowly escaped and the horror of Jerusalem led to a fevered wave of enthusiasm for the establishment of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Mass movements utilized Facebook, Twitter and the new generation of social media to mobilize support, including a grass-roots "People Power" uprising led by thousands of on-the-ground activists including Garry Bonoir, leveraging the digital media and their protest platform and network developed in the Occupy Wall Street movement, the Arab Spring, the EU austerity resistance and others worldwide. Israel underwent a great soul searching and narrowly evaded an attempt by its hawks to utilize the opportunity of Jerusalem to strike with its nuclear arsenal, from which it was very forcefully restrained by the United States, to which was added the carrot of very liberal assistance in rebuilding the destruction resulting from the blast. The world teetered on the brink of Armageddon for months. Etienne Dearlove, in his year end broadcast giving a retrospective of the great and epic cataclysm concluded:

"Civilization, and we with it, got through by the skin of our teeth."

2

Zhou Yuchun lost her position and her protection with the fall of Minister Luo Chunwang. When it became evident that the Western powers had penetrated Chinese security at the highest levels an all-out investigation was launched to determine the source of the leaks that had found their way into the hands of MI6. Eventually, after months of the most intensive and minute investigation, the technical wizards were able to ferret out the existence of the Nightingale ghost program on Yuchun's computer in her fallen master's offices, and that vocal bird was silenced forever. Yuchun was placed under "Shuanggui" a form of house arrest for higher party officials, and the revelation of this evidence was instrumental in expediting her Minister's execution. Yuchun knew that her own execution would inevitably follow, probably after extended interrogation and torture, and she resolved not to await her fate but to take matters into her own hands.

In her years of study in Japan she had come to admire and identify profoundly with the traditions of Bushido, and had brought back a set of Samurai swords and daggers, which were mounted in a glass case hanging from the wall in her home. She drew all of the curtains of her home shut, glancing outside to confirm the presence of the security guard detail which lingered outside with their pistols and submachine guns at the ready. They would come to take her away any day now she thought, so she must act now while she still had her chance.

Opposite the glass case hung a full-length mirror on the opposing wall. Slowly she removed all her clothes until she stood naked before the mirror. As she arranged her hair behind her head she looked at herself in the mirror and began to think:

It is getting late.

The body in the mirror forces me to turn and face it. And I look at my body, which is under the sentence of death. It is lean, hard, and cold, the incarnation of a mystery. And I do not know what moves in this body, what this body is searching. It is trapped in my mirror as it is trapped in time and it hurries towards revelation.

I remember the words Etienne read to Yoriko and me one night in bed from a Bible: When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

These words stuck in my brain and I long to make this prophecy come true. I long to crack that mirror and be free. I look at my sex, my troubling sex, and wonder how it can be redeemed, how can it be saved. The journey to the grave is always, already half over. Yet the key to my salvation, which cannot save my body, is hidden in my flesh.

So many years ago the confusion and fear and pain beset me. Now everything is so simple. All of them had translated me into a code no one could read, I least of all, a code perhaps designed to defeat even the best cryptographer...My breast, so like my mother's...my face...now everything so simple...at last...

Then the door was before her. She thought if she should keep it locked. She decided to unlock it. She didn't want anyone to think she was afraid of them. Before her eyes was neither pain nor death. She seemed to see only a free and limitless expanse opening out into vast distances.

She drew the water in her tub. It ran hot. Yuchun tended the charcoal brazier in the living room and began the preparations for warming the flask of sake. She took a Japanese tanzen gown from the cabinet for after the bath and placed it on the counter opposite the tub. She laid out her Japanese mat and bedding in the living room Japanese-style before the sword case and mirror. She opened a drawer and from the ordered array of paper wrappings, she read, one by one, the addresses of the keepsakes. There was no grief in this demonstration of heroic resolve. Her heart was full of tenderness. She then placed the flask of warmed sake beside the water tub.

When the water had cooled to be bearable she entered and rested her body, taking in the heat from both the water and from the liquor. She closed her eyes and for a fraction of a second; everything seemed like it had been a hallucination. At length they opened again. Her hand moved against the tip of her breast involuntarily, and this sensation, being more than just a thing of this world, was for Yuchun almost the world itself, but now—with the feeling that it was soon to be lost forever—it had a freshness beyond all her experience. Each moment had its own vital strength, and the senses in every corner of her body were reawakened. First the bath, and then the sake...

She sat in the coiling cloud of steam sipping the thimble glasses of hot sake. Then she washed every area of her body, wiping clear the mirror to observe her body as she did so. Then rising from the bath she wrapped herself in a soft robe and sat before the mirror. Sitting in the bathroom she felt her warmed body miraculously healed at last of the desperate tiredness of the days of indecision and torment. Her hands did not tremble. From time to time, it is true, there was a strange throbbing deep within her beast. Like distant lightning, it had a moment of sharp intensity and then vanished without a trace. The low light clearly revealed the majestic sweep of her white flesh. Her warmed body filled—in spite of the death which lay ahead—with pleasurable anticipation.

Thrusting her face close to the dark, cracked, misted wall mirror, she arranged her hair and applied her cosmetics with great care. This would be her death face. There must be no unsightly blemishes. She dressed herself with a certain elegance, and even felt a twinge of pride, in the association of death with this radiantly healthy face. Her lips were gay and her lips moist. There was no shadow of sadness to be seen. Her lips touched and then drained the small cup of warmed sake. Then she refilled the cup from the decanter.

She again caught the image of her face in the glass of the mirror. Her breast was in violent commotion now, as if the sadness, joy and the potent sake were mingling and reacting within her. Suddenly, though there was not the slightest distortion of the face into sobbing, she noticed the tears welling from beneath the long lashes and brimming over into a glistening stream. It is the last time I will see this body, this face, she thought to herself.

Then she folded her hands beneath her head and looked upwards into the boards of the dark ceiling, in the dimness beyond the range of the dim lamp. Was it death she was now waiting for? Or a wild ecstasy of the senses? The two seemed to overlap, almost as if the object of her bodily desire was death itself. But however that might be, it was certain that she had never before tasted such total freedom.

There was the sound of a car outside the window. Then the rolling of wheels, a shifting of headlights, and a honking of a horn as another vehicle revved and raced away. Listening to those noises she had the feeling that this house was a solitary island in an ocean of society going about its business in its mundane and usual ways. In the office they had always called her the General. She felt a calling to the military profession, and to the tradition and honour of Bushido which she had studied closely and came to love in her time of living in Japan. Hers was a battlefield without glory; hers was a battlefield of defeat; a battlefield where none could display their deeds of valor; it was the front line of indignity.

Her fingertips ran across her moist lips, and she kissed the back of her hand, then caressed again her breasts. With one hand she fondled her hair, and with the other she caressed and softly stroked the magnificent face, the quiet coldness of the tapering forehead, the faintly etched brows, the full, regular lips, and the soft cheeks. The back of her hand rubbed up against the strong jutting jaw and chin—too mannish they said so often. These things conjured up in her mind the thought of a proud and fine death face.

She looked down at the high, swelling breasts, surmounted by nipples like the buds of the wild cherry, which hardened as she brushed her fingers against them. The arms flowed smoothly downwards from each side of the breast, tapering towards the wrists, yet losing nothing of their roundness and symmetry, and tapering to the strong yet delicate fingers, the hands overlarge for a woman. The natural hollow curving between the bosom and the stomach gave a suggestion of resilient strength, and below, the shadows gathered more thickly, hair clustered, gentle and sensitive, and as the agitation gathered over this no longer passive body, a scent like a musty smoldering of fragrant blossoms grew more pervasive to her senses.

Yuchun reappeared in the living room, clad in a white silk kimono and with her face and hair elegantly made up. The farewell note lay completed on the table beneath the lamp. She put out the overhead lights and bowed before the Guan Yin statue her mother had given her as a girl. She wondered if she should move the calligraphy scroll lettered with the two large characters signifying "Sincerity" but decided that if it should be splashed with blood it would be understood.

"It is time to go" she said to herself in the mirror at last.

Yuchun now opened the glass case and took out the Samurai sword. She wrapped a white bandage around the blade of the now unsheathed sword, leaving eight or ten inches of naked steel showing at the point. She held it out to her tongue. The taste of the polished steel was slightly sweet. Then she closed her eyes to concentrate her strength. Opening them again she no longer saw her image in the mirror but looked only inwardly in an outer blankness. She moved the sword around to her front, raising herself slightly on her hips and let the upper half of her body lean forward towards the sword tip. Her eyes were fixed with an intense, hawk-like stare. For a second or two her head reeled and she had no idea what had happened. The eight or ten inches of the naked sword had vanished completely into her flesh, and the white bandage, gripped in her clenched fist, pressed directly against her stomach.

She returned to consciousness. The blade had certainly pierced the wall of the stomach, she thought and her breathing became difficult. The pain came suddenly nearer with a terrifying speed. She bit her lower lip and stifled an instinctive moan. It was a sensation of utter chaos, as if the sky had fallen and the world was reeling drunkenly. Looking down she saw that her hand, the cloth about the blade, the kimono and the blade were drenched with blood. The matting below was drenched with a deep, deep red. It struck her as incredible that in the midst of her agony, she could still see these things clearly, and existing things existed still.

The volume of blood had steadily increased, and now it spurted from the wound as if propelled by the beat of the pulse. The mat was drenched red with spattered blood, and more blood welled up in pools upon the wooden floor. Stricken by a fit of vomiting she groaned out involuntarily, stifling the sound that no one would come to her rescue before she had perished. Blood was scattered everywhere.

Fearing that she might be discovered and saved before she could die, she took the dagger from her sash and thrust it into the base of her throat. She gave the blade a strong pull sideways. Her hand shook and trembled violently. A warm substance flooded into her mouth, and everything before her eyes reddened, in a vision of spouting blood.

Her face was no longer the face of a living woman. The eyes were hollow, the skin blanched, and the once so lustrous cheeks and lips were the colour of dried mud. The right hand alone quivered with reflexive movement. Finally the General lay inert on her face in a pool of blood.

The door was before her.

# CHAPTER XIX.

### London/Little Gidding

### The Burial of the Dead

Sartorius' body was never found. On their emergence from the Potala Palace in Tibet Jack reported that he had died of an apparent heart attack. Andreas and Mohammad reported that he had died in the guesthouse of the Magister Ludi in Castalia, but the debriefings of the CIA and MI6 had dismissed such accounts as the psychological delusions and collective folie of their small group under the immense stress of captivity and refused to give even the slightest credence to such fantastically inconceivable events. After several weeks of intense debriefing even the survivors themselves were unsure if their experience was real or the effect of stress and drug-induced hallucination. Official sources assumed that he had died in an escape attempt somewhere in the caves of Fordo outside of Qom near the Teheran capital, but Iranian sources afterwards denied any knowledge of his death or of the possession of his body. The intelligence community assumed this was to deny responsibility for the event. Chinese sources at Lhasa denied any knowledge of either such person or his body when the captives and the Ex-Presidents and Secretaries General mysteriously emerged from the lower vaults of the Potala Palace. It was assumed that the captives were drugged into unconsciousness by their captors and then secretly flown by the conspirators of the Taidzi Dang Princeling Party in China and the Haghani School Quds Force in Iran to Lhasa to defuse the crisis.

After some weeks of debriefings and intense media scrutiny Andreas, Eva, Mohammad and Jack were finally released to return to London. Eva was heavy with child and everyone feared that all the calamitous stress might cause a miscarriage, but the baby remained healthy and it was hoped without any long-term side effects. Everyone felt intense sympathy for Eva and the posthumous child-to-be-born, and Eva's daughter Sarah took extended time off from school to care for her, assisted by Vanessa. The police listed Sartorius initially as a missing person, but three months later a Coroner's inquest declared him to be legally dead.

When official hope had faded and the weeks turned into months Eva sorted through Robert's things in their bedroom and laying in the drawers of their chifferobe—his socks, his undershorts, his robe draped behind the door, a pyjama top slouched on a chair. I'll be right back, they seemed to say, I'll be right back...right...back...

She misses sleeping with somebody. The falling asleep with and waking up against a warm someone. She picks up his unwashed sweatshirt and holds it against her nostrils, closing her eyes. The scent and smell of him, unlike any other wells up somewhere behind the bridge of her nose and tears condense but not fall, like a pregnant cumulous cloud on a summer night.

Something of him surfaces in the suffuse memory of her skin and limbs, his arms around her arms, his muscled back against her breasts, his furry buttocks against her bare belly, the scent of his hair against her nose and lips. the talk in the night, the glorious little talk about nothing and about everything, between the blankets, his cold feet against her warmer ones giving her a shudder, the heat pouring out of his body and into hers, how he sometimes fell asleep while she was still talking to him and the wondering if he had been listening at all, the swirl of hair above his belly button pressed against her naked one. It took her time for the mind to catch up with the body, which already and always remembered. She remembered. Remembering, it was impossible for her to believe he was gone. Remembering is the hand of God, Robert once told her: "I remember you, therefore I make you immortal." said one of his poems. Because she remembered Robert so completely, thus she was sure that his spirit was still alive—somewhere, to which her mind gave access, somehow. If a door closed on this side of the universe, there must be a somewhere in the netherworld where a window or a portal flew open, she thought.

Everything of his made her cry: his pyjamas which she had paced in the usual place, his slippers which he always lost under the bed, the memory of his image in the back of the mirror as he undressed as she combed her hair before the dresser before bed. She would stop in the middle of some piece of housework and slap herself on the forehead because she suddenly remembered something she had forgotten to tell him. Wherever she went, wherever she turned, no matter what she was doing she would come across something of his, or remember something he had done or said or some place that his presence had touched and filled, would remind her of him. At every moment countless ordinary questions would come to mind that he alone could answer for her. She could not get used to eating at the dinner table alone and would take a tray to the study to eat because the loneliness at the table would well up and choke her when she tried to swallow. Sitting alone at the table she remembered how he had once spoken about his work in a hospital in California at night when he was working his way through college. He told her something she could not imagine; that taking blood from amputees for laboratory tests he learned that the amputees suffer pains, cramps, itches, in the leg that was no longer there. That is how she felt without him, feeling his presence when he was no longer there.

The world seemed to be getting larger and larger for poor Eva, and she more and more solitary and helpless in its midst. That was the sort of crisis which from the moment she realized she had irrevocably lost Robert, began in her small life; she was for the first time feeling the inexorable pressure of a decisive moment, for the first time being dislodged from her supremacy in her own world, and getting a sense that her horizon was but a dipping onward of an existence with which her own was revolving.

Shortly before Eva was to give birth, she decided to hold a memorial service for Robert at the place where they had been married, the Church of St. John in Little Gidding, Robert's ancestral family home. She arranged that a coffin bearing his clothes and copies of his books should be interred beside the other members of his family in the Sartorius family plot in the graveyard next to the Church. Though intended as a small family affair to attain some emotional closure and as a symbol of love and respect for the man himself by those who knew and remembered him, it soon was transformed into a global media event covered live on the satellite services of the BBC and CNN and across the Internet. For Eva though it was but the necessary putting to rest of her beloved, and the creating of a place of remembrance for Little Euphorion and her to have to come and remember the father he would never know and the lover and dearest friend she would never be parted from in spirit. Jack also sought some form of closure, both positive and negative, though in his grief in one corner of his heart he fancifully hoped his father might be discovered alive. Though in the depth of his feelings of abandonment during his father's long expatriate absence he had, in truth, often wished his father dead, and though on their reunion he did not fail to quarrel with him over his felt deficiencies as a father, these feelings submerged themselves beneath his feelings of love and loss in the final reality of his death. When death, the great Reconciler, has come it is never our tendernesses that we repent of, but of our severity.

On the way to the funeral service Jack drove a rented black touring car and Eva and Sarah rode in the rear seat. Behind them followed a long line of cars forming a funeral procession and a hearse carrying the casket filled with Robert's effects. Jack and Eva had two days before chosen a few items to inter within the casket: a suit of clothes,, a watch, shoes, spare copies of his father's books and a few photos. As Jack went through his father's effects he looked through the old photographs in his father's photo album, photos of himself with his deceased mother and the family together at rest or at play or posing for family pictures with relatives and friends. He saw the photos of his father with Eva and photos of the three of them riding horses together in the English countryside several months ago. He saw the most recent photos of his father with Eva heavily pregnant with his to be born baby brother. He sensed the relentless and unending flow of time within and around the lives of all those he had known from his earliest recollection. What was the life of a man and what did he possess of it in the briefest of moments in that endless flow of time and space? What was a man and what represented him or remained when that life came to its inevitable surcease? A closet of clothes? A watch? A family? Even his very body which was not here to be interred was but the briefest collection of atoms, proteins and molecules on temporary loan from a universe which flowed ever onward, each soon to be redispersed and metamorphosized towards other destinies and other stories. Jack looked at the snapshots in his father's photo album. He realized these were the snapshots which Eva's still unborn child, his to be brother Euphorion—Euphorion Stargrazer Sartorius—the full name the mother and father had agreed on before his death, would look at with wonder in future days, thinking his parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabilized-within-the-photo lives—getting up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot and long suffering of our actual lives, adrift in the endless currents of actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road, and the memories that drifted back as flotsam on the stream. All of it inside endless and beginningless emptiness. Pitiful forms of ignorance and unknowing. Someday in the future when he had grown to be a man he would talk to his little brother of it, if possible.

After they had left the urban environs of London, Jack driving and each submerged in their thoughts or sharing the occasional words and gestures, they found themselves in the open country en route to Cambridgeshire and the small village of Little Gidding. When they had reached the open countryside Eva asked Jack to pull over and put down the top of the touring car and allow them to ride in the open air.

As they rounded the rolling hills and passed beneath the outcropping stands of elder trees she gloried in their immense clouds of cream-white flower heads nestled in their pinnate and serrated leaves. Looking more closely she saw that their elderberries were heavy, purple-black and ripe hanging from the violet-veined bunch-stems just as they had been on her country home when as a young girl she and her mother had made Elderberry Wine so long ago. She asked Jack to stop and she and Sarah went out into the woods and collected a basketful to take home with them to teach Sarah the art of wine making.

While walking heavy-bellied with Sarah in the elder woods she remembered making love to Robert the first time in the countryside and how he was so hard and forceful inside her and so far up inside and so gentle in his eyes afterwards. She wondered if it was that day that Little Euphy's seed was lodged inside her womb—she hoped so as Robert had taught her that love-making was a spiritual sacrament and an act of religious devotion and they had hoped that Little Euphy would be a child of nature's joy and beauty revealed in that act. She hoped that he was coming forth in her belly as the very living presence of the sublime in nature arising from their love-making—a transcending of the mere cycle of birth and death.

As they walked further in the elder woods they came across an open glade covered with a dizzying array of flowerpatches. There she picked wildflower after wildflower: Barren Strawberries, bluebells, broad-leaved willowherb and hellborine, cowslip and cookoopint, dog rose and Enchanter's Nightshade,...goosegrass and hogweed, ...meadow vetchling and Oxeyed Daisy...all too glorious to bear. Above her head she sensed the fluttering from branch to branch and the twittering warbling world of the Dunnock and Goldfinches. About the trunks of the trees she touched the sheafs of outward bulging fungus—bulbous honey fungus and Clustered Brittlestern alongside contorted growths of Parasol mushroom. Her eyes followed the lithe movements of a grey squirrel as it scampered over the fungus and up the damp side of the elder trunk, disturbing a Silver-washed Fritillary.

She and Sarah continued strolling and collecting talismans of such a glorious stand of growth and Jack trailed behind, carrying their basket of trophies. Eva didn't think of it at first, but she then determined to collect several basketsful to strew atop Robert's casket and grave. She thought he would like to be with the growths she had snatched with her own hand from such florid bounty of the nature as they had once shared as one together. It would be a proper act of consecration.

After an hour in the elderwoods they remounted the touring car and proceeded on to Cambridgeshire. As they neared Little Gidding they followed the low rolling hills up and down like a ship cresting the waves of the open sea, passing stands of silver birch and weeping willow and the occasional small gurgling stream. Rounding one turn along a riverbank they startled a Roe buck who sprinted up the slope and disappeared into the underbrush above.

Finally they reached the village. Coming the way they were most likely to come, they turned from the highway into the country lane, then left the rough road and turning by the pig-stye rounded the corner to the dull façade. The plain and spare church of St. John appeared before them, nonetheless elegant in its simplicity, and surrounded by flowering heads of Queen Anne's Lace, cow paisley and May-blossom hawthorn. In front of the church was the Table Tomb of Nicholas Farrar, the founder of the small religious commune of Little Gidding at the time that the bulk of the Sartorius family transplanted to the Jamestown and Plymouth colonies after 1601, and which was to grow into the Order of Christ the Sower. On it was a brass plaque on which was inscribed in weathered letters:

Here lieth the body of

John Ferrar Esqr Lord of

This mannour who departed

This life ye 28th Septembr 1657

on the reverse of the plate:

Flee from evil

And

Doe ye thinge yt is good

And

Dwell for evermore

Ps 37:2

The priest in charge, the Reverend Dicky Drake, flanked by his two churchwardens Gemme de Val and Louise Jourlon received Eva cordially with a soft embrace and showed the party into the rectory, where they took some light lunch and refreshments. Across on the opposite hillock a strand of police tape kept the hordes of television cameras and reporters at a bearable distance.

On the wall of the hallway of the rectory was a bronze plaque bearing the names of the priests and rectors who had given services, baptized the newborn and buried the dead at Little Gidding from the time of the very first rector—Robert de Hedlaya in 1223. Being at the intersecting point of time and the timeless, of the world and eternity, Little Gidding appeared richly within time and radiantly outside of it. Archaeologists had turned up Neolithic settlements dating back eight thousand years in the area, and pottery shards of a Roman outpost that bore a Latin inscription which included, so the family claimed, reference to the family name of Sartorius. Later the Anglo-Saxons under their local leader Gydal, founded the larger neighboring settlement in the sixth century known as Great Gidding, "Gidding" having the meaning of "Gydal's People." Christianity arrived in the ninth and tenth centuries with a band of Christian missionaries from Peterborough, though soon challenged by the Viking invasions settling the Danelaw of the Norse settlement along Huntingdonshire. Little Gidding did not escape the chroniclers of the Domesday Book sent by William the Conqueror after 1066, which listed it in the Soke of Accumesbury and in the Soke of the Hundred of Dresseuuelle and was later consigned to the domains of Baron Endgaine as landlord.

Religion again caught up with the destiny of Little Gidding in the intervening medieval period as Lord Engaine granted the Little Gidding Church to the Order of the Knights Templars in 1189. Robert Sartorius' early namesake Robert Christian Sartorius joined the Order of the Knights Templars and fought in the Crusades, returning only at old age from the Crusader's Kingdom. Geoffrey Sartorius after surviving the Great Plague in 1348 later similarly became a member of the Knights Hospitalliers, who followed the Templars in possession of the Church and recruited promising young men from about the surrounding countryside. Later the Hospitaliers were dissolved by Henry VIII with the seizure of the monasteries and the Sartorius family took a secular turn. By the time of Nicholas Ferrar they had taken up careers in the army and the law and accompanied John Smith and later the Puritans to found their colonies in the New World. They accompanied Ferrar to Jamestown and sided with him when he accused the controlling faction of Virginia Company of gross misconduct in skimming off profits of the enterprise by running a 'company within a company" and by reducing the Polish and African indentured servants in Jamestown to slavery by refusing to honor their contract to free them after seven years of service. They also took part in the founding of the religious community under Ferrar which became the Order of Christ the Sower before returning to the Americas as part of the Plymouth colony. During the English Civil war the Sartorius family broke with Ferrar and sided with the Parliament instead of the King.

The memorial service for Robert was simple, and the church itself, being small, held less than an hundred persons, most of whom were Robert's close friends and family. Eva followed the pallbearers as they bore the black casket past the brass baptismal font bowl at its place resting before the altar. The small procession passed the brass sconces upon which the candles burned along the length of the nave of the church, then passed beneath the large brass chandelier and the stained glass window bearing the image of the Crucifixion, restoratively installed by William Hopkinson in the nineteenth century. Eva looked at the arch over the Southeast Window and it read: 'Ut si quis perdicem in montibus' I Samuel Ch26.v.20 (Now, therefore, let not my blood fall to the earth before the face of the Lord; for the King of Israel is come to seek out a flea, as when one doth hunt a partridge on the mountains.

Eva started to cry softly when she looked up above the large brass chandelier and read upon the chancel arch the inscription dating to the Knights Templars in 1185:

'O pray for the peace of Jerusalem'

(From Psalm 122, v.6: referring to the early relationship of Little Gidding church to the Knights Templar and Hospitaller)

To keep herself from losing control and to be strong for Sarah, Little Euphy and those around her she bent her head over the manuscript under a glass case to the side of the nave, covering and wiping her eyes as she pretended to read: "Text of the Diatessaron: Harmony of the Four Gospels" which like T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets and the 2nd century scholar Tatian, attempted to bring the four gospels into a unity of composition from four disparate perspectives, which work was a major accomplishment of Ferrar's religious community, manuscript copies being requested by both the King and the great poet of the time George Herbert. Above the Diatesseron was a tapestry on which Herbert's poem "Bitter-sweet" was embroidered:

Bitter-Sweet

Ah dear angry Lord.

Since thou dost love, yet strike;

Cast down, yet love afford;

Sure I will do the like.

I will complain, yet praise.

I will bewail, approve;

And all my sour-sweet days;

I will lament, and love.

Finally Rev. Drake began the service, stepping to the brass eagle topped lectern, accompanied by organ music and benedictions. He remembered the assembled to Robert Sartorius' great work and his great sacrifice, akin to Christ's own sacrifice for the salvation of humankind and his martyrdom in that highest service. He asked each present to have faith that Robert's life and death had not been in vain but just as his sons Jack and his unborn son would live on after him, so his work and his presence in the hearts of all who knew and loved him would also live on beyond the death of his flesh. He likened Robert's questing work for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly to that of Moses, fated never to enter the promised land of his dream, but having the good fortune of God's favour to look out at his death across the river of time and behold the approaching promised future, and he asked all to have faith that Robert's great work would find timely fruition from the seeds planted during his lifetime:

"We stand in our grief and hard emotions abashed, weighted down and burdened with tragic death at this moment..." he intoned to the small gathering, "...but we shall not remain in fear, let alone in awe of death...We shall in our tearfulness hold courage, go willingly eyeball-to-eyeball with Death and it will blink before we shall...'The Force that through the green fuse drives the flower, Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees, Is my destroyer'...Yes, death exists. It is a reality. It is a destroyer of fragile and vulnerable selves...But it is far from the supreme reality. For I am here to tell you all, with unshakable certainty, that Death shall have no dominion here, that Death shall have no Dominion over the soul of Robert Sartorius... Granting the worst, the very worst that death can do, life will reassert itself as the great and unfinishable adventure that it is and shall alway be, for each and for all living things. Death's dominion will be driven out by the greater force of ever renewing life, an ever new affirming onward of the endless energies and creative powers of resurgent life, through the force of being of every individual, taking its place in the further evolution of of the hearts and lives of those dear of him, of our society, and of this living universe.

Yes, Robert Sartorius is dead. But his life speaks to us with a still living, even eternal voice. His life lives on beyond and after his death. His voice and the example of his life rings out as a living spiritual message to our ears, to man and woman and child, to Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist and atheist, of every race and people, just as clearly as if the words had been uttered from the Mount of Olives, from Mount Arafat or Mount Sinai or from under the Bodhi Tree. This is the universal message the life and sacrifice of Robert Sartorius lends and leaves to each of us: Life devoid of meaning is death; sacrifice, even unto sacrificial death, may be life-giving, an awakening to life. The example of his life brings us a new and universal Commandment, a new Sura, a new Sutra—this eleventh and most humanist commandment rings clearly before us out of his memory: 'For the sake of Goodness and Love, Man shalt let Death have no sovereignty over his thoughts." Therefore I declare before you and before God solemnly: Death Shall Have No Dominion over the Soul of Our Brother Robert Sartorius."

Then the pallbearers, led by Andreas on the left side and Jack on the right, bore the casket out of the narrow church and past the wooden pews and out into the glorious afternoon of the English countryside, the warm rays of the sun aslant upon the flowering heads of cow-paisley and hawthorne. They lowered the casket into the prepared trench of the grave next to the graves of the Sartorius kin of the last millennium and Eva tossed in flowers and the first handful of earth, followed by Jack. Then Eva and Sarah brought out their baskets of wildflowers and strew them upon the grave, neither of them holding back from the bittersweet tears, healthful perhaps, that came naturally. They passed the rows of ragged rose bushes and as they neared the outer gate of the church they passed another brass plaque on which were inscribed the words of Nicholas Ferrar to his friend Arthur Woodnoth on the 10th of May 1640:

"Keep sacred in thy heart...that web of friendship which I hope might otherwise prove a pattern in an age that needs patterns"

Jack turned over in his mind the few reflections that elevated themselves above the heaviness of an overpressing numbness. Events succeeded endlessly in a logical yet senseless train. People lost their humanity, and took values as arbitrary as those in a pack of playing cards, moved from crisis to crisis. It was natural for a father to do this and cause a son to do that, and then think him wrong for doing it; natural that he should think him wrong for having done it—natural but unreal. In this jungle of causes and effects what had become of their true selves—let alone their souls if they indeed had them? Life and death were anything and everything except this ordered insanity that swallowed so many lives and spat them out into the cold ground beneath such glibcarven gravestones. Yet too there was beauty and adventure, and love and friendship in this world, and hope this side of the grave.

He watched the funeral procession recede, going past, with the rolling dirge in trail. It was a human sound, and yet inhuman, pushed out by animal subconsciousness, by intimate knowledge of the endless chain of generations of universal death and change. None of us—none—can hold on forever!

Jack lingered behind the rest by the side of his father's grave, smelling the freshness of the upturned soil as the two workers under the sexton fitted the simple stone marker into place. It bore some elegant engraved figures and an arabesque with a simple recital of his name and dates of life, the ony inscription a verse in Latin:

Post Tenebras Spero Lucem Job, 17:12

Then leaving the graveyard he saw Eva and Sarah strolling again amoungst the larch and Scots Pine trees of the neighboring glade, taking in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun and warming their skin as the day waned towards evening. Then by and by they all returned to the waiting cars and made their heavy way homewards towards London in the looming night.

# CHAPTER XX.

### Spiritus Mundi

### (London/Jerusalem)

1

Jack Sartorius rode in the long black limo seated nestled in its plush black leather alongside Etienne Dearlove as they made their way from Winfield House, the residence of the United States Ambassador in London, to Heathrow Airport. Etienne drew a silver cigar case from his overcoat pocket and made a gesture of offer to Jack as he opened it. Jack drew a fine Cuban Montecristo Number Two and Etienne a Montecristo Number Four and they talked over old times as well as the plans for the opening of the inaugural session of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly in New York in a few days time. Etienne was just celebrating his first anniversary as the new "C," or head of MI6, British Intelligence and he saw quite a bit of Jack, now Jack Sartorius again and no longer Jack McKinsey, and who had just recently been appointed to succeed Joel Barlow as the CIA Station Chief in London, and he was only beginning to get used to the sedate and courtly courtesies of the higher fringes of the diplomatic world.

"Are you going to see Isis in Jerusalem?" Etienne asked, exhaling the smooth and thick gray smoke against the partition window separating them from the driver and armed bodyguard in the front seat.

"Yes, I am going with her to visit the site of their new Spiritus Mundi Inter-faith Temple which is under construction in the old detonation zone, and then in a day or two she and I and Mohammad Ala Rushdie and Ami Giyalon are going to follow you up to New York for the inaugural ceremony of the new UN Parliamentary Assembly—I'm going to give a little speech in honour of my father." he replied.

"So you haven't seen too much of her since the great events?" Etienne asked.

"Off and on. But since her religious conversion we have never resumed our former relationship, though we are close friends of course, and we have gone in our different directions." he replied.

"Yes—it's 'Mother Isis' now and she has been steady at her spiritual and humanitarian work these past years. We all cannot help but recalling how extraordinarily she led and inspired the spiritual movement that followed on through the crisis following the detonation, and how the roiling mobs of those hundreds of thousands turned to her in their moment of panic and confusion. And the unceasing effort of her face to face ministering to the sick and dying radiation victims and the displaced and homeless these last years and her show inner strength—that rising to the challenge is beyond doubt. Rumor has it that she may be up for a Nobel Peace Prize this year or next—her work is patent to everyone following the detonation and poor Osiris' shooting—perhaps another Mother Teresa, they all say. She might have had it already if she didn't have to carry the cross of working off and burying her previous media image—the cynics still suspect its all another media stunt—but from what I understand she is quite sincere."

"Yes, quite sincere—she was always deeply religious you know, even quite traditional if you really knew her—even when the world would have least suspected it—just marching to another drummer, you know—still shaped by her original Jesuit upbringing—and the grief of Osiris' death and the utter devastation of everything around her just brought on somehow this profound change in her heart and life." he reflected.

"Ah, they lead beautiful lives—women..." Etienne sighed, "...lives not only divorced from, but irrevocably excommunicated from, all reality. That's why their deaths—you heard of Yoriko's friend Yuchun's ritual death in Beijing?—the instant of dissolution, are of no importance to them since they have a courage and fortitude in the face of pain and annihilation which would make the most Spartan soldier resemble a puking boy...But, Jack, do you think you would ever get together with Isis for good?"

"Hell, I don't know Etiennne. I don't know anything anymore. Aunt Sally put me in charge of the London Station here, and I don't know if I'm suited—its really white-tie and tails and diplomatic and all...You know—'Aunt Sally' is what we call control, or the top controllerate, as you put it in MI6...I don't know if I'm really the right kind of animal. I need to be out in the field where the action is. And going back with Isis, now that she's taken her religious kick, well it's more of the same sort of thing. I'll try it on for size, but if worse comes to worse I rekon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally and Mother Isis, they's goin' to try to to push me upstairs and 'sivilize me, and I can't stand it. I been there before."

"Ah, but here we are—I'll get off here—my official plane, and the driver will take you on to yours" said a smiling Etienne, turning away from Jack with a last handshake and wink, "—Oh—there's Yoriko getting out of the other car—she's flying over with me for the New York events—business and pleasure." chirped Etienne as he got out and placed a respectably conventional-looking kiss on the side of her cheek, then waved with her to Jack as his car rolled slowly across the tarmac.

An hour later Jack settled into his first-class cabin seat aboard the El Al airliner headed for Ben Gurion airport, outside Jerusalem. He closed his eyes and reclined the seat backward to rest for a quarter hour until the coffee service interrupted him, and then sipping an expresso he took out his iPad, touching and expanding his fingerspans across its screen-surface as he gleaned and magnified the latest news. One article on the wire services showed a picture of "Mother Isis" plugging the release of her new book—"Spiritus Mundi: A World Reborn" co-written by her colleagues of The Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, Mohammad ala Rushdie and Ami Giyalon, the proceeds of which were to be 100% completely dedicated, the article related, to the construction of the new and imposing Spiritus Mundi Ecumenical Temple on the site of the detonation in Jerusalem, co-sponsored with the Order of the Brethren of Shared Life, Mother Isis' religious order chartered recently under her guidance by the Pope, a Sufi Order under the guidance of Mohammad ala Rushdie, and a coalition of Reformed and Progressive Jews headed by Ami Giyalon. The Temple would serve on completion as an inter-faith house of worship for universal and ecumenical spirituality, and as the permanent home and headquarters of their Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance movement and organization, it said. Jack followed the link and application to download the new book onto his iPad. Calling it up it presented payment options, all of which were to be 100% dedicated to the Spiritus Mundi Inter-faith Temple. Options included a VIP 1000 British pound donation, a 100 pound donation, a 10 pound donation, and an option to receive the E-Book free with registration of the purchaser's name as a volunteer, pledging 24 hours of work as a volunteer for the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance. Jack clicked on the 100 pound option, and in a few moments the cover of the book appeared on his iPad's screen, showing Mother Isis, Mohammad and Ami hand in hand before the artist's conception of the imposing finished structure of the Spiritus Mundi Inter-faith Temple, materializing in a hypermodernesque dome crafted in the imaginative style of Frank Ghery. Jack flipped his forefinger across the corner of the iPad's screen, opening the book and turning its first pages:

Foreword

This book is inspired by and dedicated to the common life of the human soul and spirit in all of its varied manifestations, in the belief that modern life and the crisis of mankind requires a spiritual re-birth and a universal spiritual communion embracing all peoples, all faiths, and all varieties of religious and spiritual experience if humanity on this earth is to survive, live in peace, and to prosper inwardly and outwardly. It affirms the common spiritual life and the common spiritual aspirations of all peoples issuing from our common collective unconscious and manifesting itself in our most various faiths, traditions, beliefs and historical associations.

The proceeds of the sale of this book are dedicated in their entirety to the work of the construction of the Spiritus Mundi Inter-Faith Ecumenical Temple on Ground-Zero—the site of the recent horrific nuclear detonation and tragic events in Jerusalem, to the work of the Order of the Brethren of the Common Life, who minister daily to the needs of the injured victims of that blast, including the maintenance of hospices and hospitals for the treatment of its radiation sickness sufferers and the provision of interim housing and decontamination in the disaster area, and to the work of the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, whose work in global spiritual regeneration is directed to the end that such a tragedy may not be in vain, and must not happen again.

To this end the contributing authors of this volume, Mother Isis, Mohammad ala Rushdie and Ami Giyalon, coming respectively from the great religious faiths and traditions of Christianity, Islam and Judaism, and Jennie Zheng and Pari Kasiwar representing the mixed Buddhist/Hindu/Confucian/Taoist spiritual heritage of the East, offer their spiritual guidance for the benefit of those who may gain inspiration from their intense spiritual experience, especially in the wake of the recent tragedy in Jerusalem, in the hope that their common spirituality may serve to heal the wounds that have issued from it, but more importantly make a contribution to the ongoing spiritual evolution of the modern world which we must all by necessity, co-habit together.

The varieties of spiritual and religious experience are manifold and diverse. In the Biblical tradition the story of Martha and Mary of Bethany in their encounter with Jesus, underlines that religious service may be either inwardly directed or outwardly directed, and religious or spiritual devotion may embrace people who are both actives and contemplatives. While such divisions are never absolute or categorical, we might say that the spiritual counsel of Mother Isis reflected in her writings herein, embraces more of the active tradition of spiritual work, while that of our brother Sufi adept, Mohammad ala Rushdie, embraces more of the contemplative or mystical tradition of spiritual work and inspiration. Our brother Ami Giyalon, additionally, lends special strength to the ethical and social aspects of our common spiritual work. Jennie Zheng and Pari Kasiwar lend both their heritages of Eastern Spirituality and the Emersonian and Whitmanesque spirituality of Nature and their American heritage.

Our common hope is that the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, and the Spiritus Mundi Interfaith Temple now under construction at Ground-Zero will provide a "large tent" that will embrace all of the traditions and manifestations of global spirituality and religious experience issuing from our common and shared collective unconscious, including the social activist, the mystical and contemplative, the traditions of saintliness and of spiritual community, of both religious and non-religious spirituality, and of the individual and the communal. Indeed we have faith that the spiritual life and heritage of mankind is large, deep and broad enough to include not only the three Abrahamic faiths represented by several authors of this book but the common spiritual heritage of mankind embracing Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism and even the more secular forms of spirituality growing out of their common roots in the collective unconscious of mankind: the human imagination in all forms, human love in all forms, humanism, Enlightenment, Confucianism, art, World Literature, music, science, reason and philosophy—even atheism, Existentialism and materialist Communism—which we have perfect faith are not devoid of the ever onward evolving forms and energies of human spirituality. Like the Infinite, its center is everywhere and its circumference nowhere, and its nation is humanity, firmly rooted in the human mind and the human heart and the common love and compassion of all sentient beings in our common universe, an everlasting bridge between the null dimension and the omnium. Our Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance and our Spiritus Mundi Temple embrace all these forms of the human spirit and its spirituality, and the Spiritus Mundi Temple is also a Temple of Reason and a Temple of Science as well as a Temple of Art and the Imagination, all forms issuing from the common collective unsconscious of, and the genius of humanity and manifesting themselves in its onward spiritual life, and therein we have perfect faith that we are justified, as modern genetic scientists observe of our very DNA that it is everywhere 99.9% the same and only at very most 0.1 % in difference with itself, and thus there is every justification for emphasizing our commonality and the universal civilization built thereon, rather than dwelling on the infinitesimal zone of difference and discord. And thus we hope in this way that the clash of civilizations will give way to the common clasp and embrace of our universal spiritual civilization, and that the sick soul and divided self of the modern world and its suffering peoples may thereby in some measure be brought to healing, and returned to its wholeness, its wholesomeness, and its spiritual health.

The Authors.

Jack flipped forward, flicking his forefinger across the corner of his iPad until he came to the first page of the one-third portion of the book authored by Isis:

MOTHER ISIS: THOUGHTS HELPFUL IN THE LIFE OF THE SOUL

Imitating Christ and Despising the Vanities on Earth

"He who follows me walks not in darkness." Says the Lord. By these words Christ advised us to imitate His life and habits, if we wish to be truly enlightened and free from all blindness of heart. Let our chief effort, therefore, be to study the life of Jesus Christ, and in the challenges of our own lives, to raise in our own minds the question of what Jesus would have done in similar circumstances, and to rise to that challenge accordingly in our own lives.

The teaching of Christ is more excellent than that of all the advice of the philosophers and saints, and he who has His spirit will find in it a hidden strength. Now, there are many who hear the Gospel often but care little for it because they have not the spirit of Christ within them. Yet whoever wishes to understand fully the words of Christ must try to pattern his whole life on that of Christ, embracing all of its aspects, not only his heroic suffering for humanity's sake, but also his daily love and joy, and his joyful embrace of the inner and the outer, the bodily, intellectual, moral and spiritual life of his full humanity, as well as his divine mission beyond. Cherish and imitate Christ, not only in his willing suffering on the Cross, but also in the joy and passion of his love and life, for heroes and saints reveal themselves to us not merely in the sublimity of how they die, but even more so in the greatness of how they live.

It was this thought which so changed my life when I found myself convulsed with the tragic loss of my husband Osiris, a prey to his own mental deterioration and the forces he unleashed but could not control, and as I found myself caught up in the greater tragedy of the nuclear detonation here in Jerusalem, the spiritual navel of the world—so caught up in lovelessness and hate and so in need of physical and spiritual healing. For many days I was paralyzed in shock, yet fantastically I found millions screaming to me for guidance. I saw the unreality of everything around me that had motivated my life: fame, money, self-love and aggrandizement, consumer luxuries and the narcotic drug of media attention. I saw as from the book of Ecclesiastes how empty of reality it all was and how soon to disappear into nothingness—all vanity, a vanity of vanities. Some say humility is to see oneself as one is. I was forced to do so, and to pray for help and guidance in my inadequacies. But arising from my mental shock I tried to imagine what it was like for Christ in this city and what he might have done had he been me in my circumstances of the present world. I knew Osiris had followed a distortion of Christ's image in madness and delusion, in the disease of his mind seeking to become the god he never was and never could be. I tried to atone for this madness by recovering my Christ's love and his sanity and his feeling for the suffering of others around him. I knew the madness of the media-magnification of my small self gave me some extraordinary capacity to help others that an ordinary person might not have. I resolved to follow Christ in my heart and act in his essential sanity and love to do my small part without delusion to aid those in need. For the last years we have opened hospices for those sick and dying from radiation poisoning, and we have established the Order of the Brethren of the Common Life to minister to the needs of the poor, and displaced and victimized throughout the world.

Now they call me "Mother Isis," and while silly in some respects I take it as a badge of honor—I am proud to help and minister to those in need—and the world needs a mother's love, though I am so far unworthy and incapable of supplying it as might be needed. In any case it is more than I was before, my empty tabloid self, and may I be forgiven the shortcomings of my past.

Therefore I say to you all: "The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor the ear filled with hearing. (Ecclesiastes 1:8)" Try, moreover, to turn your hearts from the love of things visible and bring yourself to things invisible. Turn away from the fictive desires of consumer brands, money and media acclaim which disappear in their unreality, and join in the spiritual community of hearts and minds making efforts towards a better world in the small but real steps of their own lives and relationships to others and to God. Turn your hearts, in emulation of the heart and spirit of Christ, towards the realer things of life, both visible and invisible.

Strengthen me by the grace of Your holy spirit, O God. Give me the power to be strengthened inwardly and to empty my heart of all vain care and anxiety, and of all the vanities and cancers of self-love, so that I may not be drawn away by so many false and empty desires, whether for precious things or for mean ones, whether for vainglory or the idolatry of self. Let me look upon everything as passing, and upon myself as soon to pass away with them, because there is nothing lasting under the sun, where all is vanity and affliction of spirit. Allow me to find useful work, in service of You, God the Great Workmaster, and guide me to my Calling in and through You. Keep yourself Strangers and Pilgrims in this world. (1 Peter 2:4) Lay the axe to the root and conquer self.

Thanks be to You from Whom all things come, whenever it is well with me. In Your sight I am vanity and nothingness, a weak, unstable woman. In what therefore, can I glory, and how can I wish to be highly regarded? It is because I am nothing, or only an infinitesimal part of You, who are everything. All that I have been before you came into me was but utterly vain. Indeed the greatest vanity is the evil plague of self-glory, because it draws one away from true glory and robs one of heavenly grace and purpose. For when a man or woman is pleased with themselves overmuch, they displease You; when they pant after human praise and acclaim and applause they are deprived of true virtue. But it is true glory and holy exultation to glory in You and emulate your virtue, not in mere and flawed self, and to rejoice in Your name rather in one's own.

Do not cast me out forever nor blot me out of the Book of Life! O Lord it is true. I have lived blindly and disordered in mind and heart—I have sinned and fallen short. How is a man the better for being thought better by men? The deceiver deceives the deceitful; the vain man deceives the vain; the blind deceives the blind; the blind and weak deceives the weak as often as he extols them, and in truth his foolish praise shames them the more. For as the good St. Francis tells us, whatever anyone is in Your sight, that he is and nothing more. Let Your truth teach me. I ask that it be with me as You say. Let it guard me and keep me safe to the end. Let it free me from all evil affection and badly ordered love, and I shall walk with You in the great freedom of the heart.

A man or a woman must fight long and bravely against themselves before they learn to master themselves fully and direct all their affections towards God. This is the great victory, the victory over Self. To find oneself one must truly lose oneself, even defeat oneself in a greater victory. Realize that you must lead a dying life; the more that a man dies to himself the more he begins to live unto God. The perfect victory is to triumph over self. For him who does this violence to himself, that holds himself in subjection, that sensuality and self-glory obey reason and reason obeys the spirit of God in all matters, is truly his own conqueror and the master of the world. Therefore lay the axe bravely to the root—tear out and destroy any hidden unruly love of self or earthly goods or illusions. Christ invokes us not to flee from suffering, neither in ourselves or in others, but to embrace it, and to compassionate it, and to purify ourselves in it. He calls to all who wish to follow him saying: "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me."

Jack continued to run his thumb and forefinger over the iPad screen, scrolling forward through the pages of Isis' writing, his fingertips stopping here and there to browse her words:

The Wonderful Effect of Divine Love

"O God, You Who are the truth, make me one with You in love everlasting. I am often wearied by the many things I hear and read, but in You is all that I long for. My Lord God, my holy Lover, when You come into my heart, all that is within me will rejoice. You are my glory and the exultation of my heart. You are my hope and refuge in the day of my tribulation. But because my love is as yet weak and my virtue imperfect, I must be strengthened and comforted by You. Visit me often, therefore and infuse in me Your holy discipline. Free me from evil passions and cleanse my heart of all disorderly affection so that, healed and purified within, I may be fit to love, strong to suffer and firm to persevere.

My God, my love, You are all mine and I am all Yours. Give me an increase of love, that I may learn to taste with the inward lips of my heart how sweet it is to love, how sweet to be dissolved in love and bathe in it. Let me be rapt in love. Let me rise above self in great fervor and wonder. Let my soul exhaust itself in praising You, rejoicing out of our love. Let me love You more than myself, and let me not love myself except for Your sake. In You let me love all those who truly love You, as the law of love, which shines forth from You, commands."

And:

Isis Unveiled: My Spouse and Pure Lover, Jesus Christ

"Who, O most beloved Spouse, Jesus Christ, most pure Lover, Lord of all creation, who shall give me the wings of true liberty that I may fly to rest in You? When shall freedom be fully given me to see how sweet You are, O Lord, my God? When shall I recollect myself entirely in You, so that because of Your love I may feel, not myself but You alone above all sense and measure, in a manner known to none? But now I often lament and grieve over my unhappiness, for many evils befall me in this vale of miseries, often disturbing my mind, making me sad in my depressions and overshadowing me, often hindering and distracting me, alluring and entangling me so that I neither have free access to You nor enjoy the secret embraces which are ever ready for blessed souls. Let my sighs and the desolations of my heart move You.

O Jesus, Splendor of eternal glory, Consolation of the pilgrim soul, with You my lips utter no sound and to You my silence speaks. How long will my Lord delay His Coming? Let Him come to His poor servant and make him happy. Let Him put forth His hand and take this miserable creature from her anguish. Come, O come and come again! Come, for without You there will be no happy day or hour, because You are my happiness and without You my table is empty. I am wretched, as it were imprisoned and weighted down with fetters, until You fill me with the light of Your Presence, restore me to liberty, and show me a friendly and loving countenance. Let others seek instead of You whatever they will, but nothing pleases me or will please me but You, my God, my Hope, my everlasting Salvation and Deliverance. I will not be silent, I will not cease praying until Your grace returns to me and You speak inwardly to me, saying 'Behold, I am her. Lo, I have come unto you because you have called Me. Your tears and the desire of your inmost soul, your humility and contrition of heart have inclined Me and brought Me to you.' Lord I have called You, and have desired You, and have been ready to spurn all things for Your sake. Love me O Lord with the deepest Love!"

My Thoughts On Death

Very soon life here will end. I have seen my husband Osiris die bleeding in my arms. Since then I have seen thousands die, many in my own arms, and some in agony. My mother and father have left me and this world behind. Today we live; tomorrow we die and are quickly forgotten; consider, then what may be in store for you elsewhere.

Therefore, in every deed and every thought, act as though you were to die this very day. If you had a good conscience you would not fear death very much. It is better to avoid sinfulness and shortcoming than to fear death. If you are not prepared today, how will you prepare tomorrow? Tomorrow is an uncertain day; how do you know you will have a tomorrow?

What good would a long or longer life do you when we waste so much of what life we have? A long life does not always benefit us, but on the contrary, frequently adds to our shortcomings. Would that in this world we had lived well throughout one single day! Therefore do not worry yourself and your diet and your doctor with pleadings for longer life. Instead resolve to live well, and to live well now with what span of life God is pleased to give us. Blessed is he or she who keeps the moment of death ever before their eyes and prepares for it well every day.

If you have seen a man die, remember that you too must go the same way. In the morning consider that you may not live until evening; and when evening comes do not dare to promise yourself the dawn. Many die suddenly and unexpectedly. The present is therefore very precious; these are the days of your salvation; now is the acceptable time for all that must be done; tomorrow may never come. Try to live now in such a manner that at the moment of death you may be glad rather than fearful. Death is the end of everyone and the life of men and women passes quickly away like a shadow. Therefore keep yourself as a stranger here on earth; you are a pilgrim passing through, so keep your heart free and raise it up to God; try to make this place a better place than you found it and feel at ease in your passing through and onwards, for you have no lasting home here but only elsewhere in God. Love your fellow travelers, struggling onwards on their life's journeys, just as you are on yours...

Then Jack scrolled down to the next section of the book, written by his friend Mohammad ala Rushdie:

A DANCE IN THE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING

By Mohammad ala Rushdie

Dancing in the Darkness: Ihsan, Towards a Oneness with God, Allah, by Doing That Which is Beautiful

It is not learning that makes a man holy and just, but a virtuous life makes him pleasing to God, Allah, and a loving heart that seeks to be at one with his own. For how would it profit us to know the whole Koran or Bible by heart and the principles of all the philosophers if we live without grace and the love of God, Allah? Vanity of vanities and all is vanity, except to love God, Allah and serve Him alone. Every man naturally desires knowledge; but what good is knowledge without a love of God? Indeed a humble peasant who knows God in his heart is better than a proud intellectual who neglects his soul to study the course of the mind and the stars. He who knows himself well becomes mean in his own eyes and is not happy when praised by unspiritual men.

If I knew all things and secrets of the world and had not charity in my heart, what would it profit me before God? Shun too great a desire for knowledge, for in it there is much fretting and delusion. Intellectuals like to appear learned and to be called wise. Yet there are many things the knowledge of which does little or no good for the soul and lend themselves to an empty pride, and he who concerns himself about other things than those which lead to salvation is unwise. The more you know and the better you understand, the more responsibility you bear and the more severely you will be judged, unless your life is also the more holy. Do not be proud, therefore, because of your learning or skill. Rather fear whether you have lived worthily in respect to the gifts or the talents given you.

Knowledge itself is a Fall, a fall from a greater grace and paradise of an undifferentiated participation in God, Allah who is the greater dream from which it is its own awakening. Perhaps this is why Allah forbade Adam the eating of the fruits thereof. Accordingly, all knowledge as a bridgework between the life of the mind and the life of the world and the life of the spirit must fall when too much weight is put upon it. Perhaps this is why our knowing selves an never be our final destination, but only a way-station on a greater journey onwards. The moment when knowledge and the doctrine of knowledge becomes omnivorous and pretends to be omniscient, as only God, Allah can be—the moment that a doctrine, a fundamentalist scripture, a shariah or commandment or its interpreting cleric pretends to be omnipotent and demands to be taken literally without the living participation of the partaker's spirit and the participation of the greater living spirit—it falls and becomes dead. Literal knowledge is dead knowledge. It is said that the letter killeth and the spirit giveth life. Thus it is not accidental that our catechisms of our madrassahs, temples and churches bear the acrid smell and must of the catacombs, and the deadening timbre of the dead discoursing with the dead. Where the letter standeth in the way of the living oneness with God, Allah, the letter must fall. Where the letter is a rightful part of the bridgework between man and God, the letter must lead onwards.

Every perfection in this life has some imperfection mixed with it and no learning of ours is without some darkness. Humble knowledge of self is a surer path to God, Allah than the ardent pursuit of learning. Not that learning is to be considered evil, or knowledge, which is good in itself and so ordained by God should not have its high honour; but a clean conscience and virtuous life ought to be preferred. Likewise we ought to read simple and devout books as willingly as learned and profound ones. Many often err and accomplish little or nothing because they try to become learned rather than living well. A man is raised up from earth by two wings: simplicity and purity. There must be simplicity in his intentions and purity in his desires. Simplicity leads to God, and purity embraces and enjoys Him.

God, Allah loves the beauty of those who live beautifully in His spirit. Our highest calling is therefore spiritual excellence, which is also in the lore of the Sufi, called "Ihsan" (إحسان) or "to do beautiful things." Thus our highest calling as human beings is to make ourselves beautiful in God's eyes through striving whole-heartedly after spiritual excellence, ihsan, and realizing such spiritual excellence in good works, in our social interactions and in the purity of intention in our hearts. The eyes of God love this spiritual beauty above all things, and through it he will recognize us, and as we approach him in His love he will draw our beauty and our souls into him in the embrace of Oneness. His spiritual excellence will be recognized by all men of all civilizations, by the Confucian in his striving to become a "junzi," by the Westerner in his pursuit of the ideals of the gentleman in "gentilesse," or of his "Renaissance Man" and in the Christian saint in mystic holiness, as by the bodhisattva in his enlightenment. Even the eyes of an unbeliever, such as Nietzsche in Beyond Good and Evil, or even beyond truth and falseness, could take in the holiness of spiritual beauty, the aesthetic, and still be inspired, strive for spiritual excellence, as could the romantic Keats, in his famous: "'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' – that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

The jurists of our Muslim faith have concentrated on its first, yet only the beginning dimension, islam, which is "what one should do." Beyond them, the theologians have concentrated on the second, perhaps greater dimension of our faith, iman, or "why one should do it." We Sufi's have concentrated, however, on the highest dimension and calling of our faith, ihsan, or striving after Oneness with God, Allah through spiritual excellence, that is through "the doing of beautiful things," and which most fully embraces and unites all three dimensions.

God, Allah invokes us to love our fellow man and our fellow woman. But a love of solitude and silence is another part of our love for man and God. First keep peace with yourself; then you will be able to bring peace to others. A love of solitude is to travel by a lonely path that will, at length return us to humanity, just as the evaporation of a drop of water and its ascent to the heavens will end in its return to the eternal sea. No man appears safely before the public eye who has not withdrawn from it into exploration of his own inwardness. No man is safe in speaking unless he knows how to be silent. Very many of the great saints and prophets avoided the company of men whenever possible, and this is no sin against God or against humanity: "As often as I have been amoung men..." relates one sage, "...I have returned less a man."

God, Allah calls men in different ways. For some, the actives, he calls on them to build the good things of this world through good works and good associations. For some, the contemplatives, he calls on them to explore the inner world. For some, the high mystics, he calls on to journey towards oneness with Himself through close encounters of the inner kind. They also serve who only sit and wait. In the mysterious economy of the spirit they shall also profit mankind.

For some, the contemplative and mystic path leads to the path of the Lover of God, Allah, who transcends self to approach a spiritual unity with God himself. This is the path of the Sufi mystic. This path is not an easy one, nay, it is even a terrible one, costing not less than everything, though yielding an infinite everything in return. Those of you who feel this desire, and feel called to this path, do not give up when you feel its arduousness, but labour at it until your heart is filled with the desire for union with God, Allah. It is in the nature of a true lover that the more he loves, the more he longs to love. Press on quickly then along this path, I beg you. Look forward now, and forget backwards, and see what you lack and not what you have: that is the easiest way to get and keep humility. Your whole life now must consist of desire, if you are to make progress on the level of perfection, until your desire is purified beyond desire and your self beyond self.

Do not give up then, but labour at it till you feel your desire and the love of your heart growing. For the first time you travel along this path you will find only a darkness, and as it were a cloud of unknowing. You do not know what, except that you feel in your will a naked purpose towards God. Whatever you do, this darkness and this Cloud of Unknowing are between you and your God, and hold you back from seeing him clearly by the light of understanding in your reason and from experiencing him in the sweetness of love in your feelings. And so prepare to remain in this darkness as long as you can, always betting for him you love; for if you are ever to feel or see him, so far as is possible in this life, it must always be in this cloud and this darkness.

But so that you shall not go wrong in this work of contemplation and suppose it to be other than it is, I must tell you a little more about it as I see it. This work does not demand a long time to be fully completed, as some people suppose and some schools instruct. It is the briefest of all imaginable actions. It is neither longer nor shorter than an instant—an instant, which as defined by our scientists as the smallest unit of time, it is so tiny that its small size makes it indivisible beyond our understanding. The instant is the simplest movement of the human mind, and our lives may contain innumerable such instants in the course of a single minute of actual life.

The Scriptures tell that God, Allah created man in his own image, man and woman he created us in his own image. Therefore when we seek within we find an all abiding inner correspondence of our own selves with the God of our origin. Though our intellect and mere consciousness may never fathom it, our soul is exactly adapted to his godhead by the dignity of our creation in his image and likeness. And he by himself alone, and none but he, is fully sufficient, and far more than fully, to satisfy the will and desire of our soul. And by means of this reforming grace our soul is made fully sufficient to grasp him in his entirety by love—God, Allah who is beyond the reach of all created intellectual faculties, such as those of angels and human souls. (I mean beyond the reach of their knowledge and not of their love).

Only see: all rational beings, angels and men and djinn, have within them two principal faculties, one a faculty of knowledge, and the second a faculty of love; and God their maker, is forever beyond the reach of the first of these, the intellectual faculty; but by means of the second, the loving faculty, he can be fully grasped by each individuated being, to such an extent that each single loving soul may, by virtue of love, embrace within itself him who is fully sufficient (and beyond comparison more than fully) to fill all the souls and angels and djinn that can ever exist. And this is the unending marvelous miracle of love, which will never be concluded for God.

When I say that we must needs approach reunion with God, Allah in darkness and in a cloud of unknowing, have no fear or trepidation. For nothing can be brighter or enlightening than this approach. For when I say 'darkness' I mean an absence of knowing, in the sense that everything that you do not know, or have forgotten is dark to you; because you cannot see it with your mind's eye it remains dark until God's light enters your soul. For Sufis, the Hadith of Gabriel, related by Al-Bukhari, teaches us: "Ihsan is to worship God as though you see him, and if you cannot see Him, then indeed he sees you." As you approach nearer to God, as you may do in contemplative meditation or in the whirling dance and dancing consciousness and unconsciousness of the 'Dervishes' or the dancing Sufi adepts of our Order, you will find this darkness, this cloud of unknowing is above you in your upward approach to God, and similarly you must place a corresponding cloud of forgetting beneath you. This Cloud of Forgetting must take away everything of yourself and of the world you have hitherto experienced. You will thus find yourself beneath the cloud of unknowing between you and God, and above the cloud of forgetting which obscures all you have known before the moment of epiphany. At this moment every thought, even every thought of the very attributes of God, Allah which you may have entertained, his compassion, his love, his omniscience, his omnipresence, will be emptied from your mind, indeed if it remained it would only separate you from God himself. Emptied out unto nothingness, you will be filled by the inner correspondence of your soul far beyond consciousness or mind, by the energies of the source and sustainer of all creation. Such a moment of union, some may call it the Zen satori experience or the epiphany, may last only the briefest of instants realizable to the human mind but the energies it sets in motion are eternal, and you will be set in motion, dancing to the music of time, which echoes the receding music of the eternal infinite.

We Sufis search for and follow The Tariqah: The Way. The Chinese call this the Dao, or Tao. The tariquah is the mystical journey that leads the Sufi away from the external reality of the world and even religion and toward the divine reality—the only Reality—of God, Allah. There are many paths to this reality—including the path of the calender, the dervish, the faqir—the loss of self and the spinning into unity with God's essence in divine dance, this dancing in the dark, this dancing in the cloud of unknowing. In the divine ecstasy of this dance there is no subject and no object, now knower and no known—all becomes one. By discarding his own qualities and attributes through a radical act of self-annihilation the Sufi enters fully into the qualities, energies and attributes, if momentarily, of God. The Sufi is drowned in God, so that the Creator and the creation become one sublime energy. This path leads to radical ahadiyyah, or Oneness, expressing tawid, or the Oneness of God.

In the words of our great master, Ibn al-Arabi, —humanity and the cosmos, as two separate but intimately connected constructions of the Universal Spirit, are like two mirrors reflecting one another. By employing ta'wil, al-Arabi drew from the Quran's statement that God created humanity "from a single soul" (4:1) to mean that the universe is "as a single being." For al-Arabi, human beings are thus "an abridgement of the great cosmic book." and those few individuals who have fully regained and realized their essential oneness with the Divine Being are thus Sufis, or tasawwuf, also called "the Perfect Man" or "the Universal Man." Spiritus Mundi is thus another name for this Universal Spirit, out of which both humanity and the cosmos are created, each reflecting each other as two mirrors. It is an expression of the "single soul" out of which the Creation derives and thus the essential unity of humanity and the cosmos reflecting the ultimate unity, tawid, of God himself, whither man is, communally and in his individual life and soul, in his encounter with the cosmos, ever tending towards reunion with his origin.

The performance of this work of contemplation and of spiritual union is such that its presence gives a soul the capacity to have it and to feel it; and no soul can have that capacity without it. The capacity for this work is inseparable from the work itself, so that whoever experiences the work has the capacity for it, or else he would not experience it. Do not worry, I beg of you, if this is all you know, but always press further and further forward, just so long as you keep going.

To put it more exactly, let that thing do with you whatever it pleases and lead you wherever it pleases. Let it do the working and you be the material it works upon; just watch it, and let it be. Do not interfere with it as if to help, for fear you should spoil everything. You simply be the wood, and let it be the carpenter; you be the house and let it be the master who lives there; Be blind for the time being, and cut away the desire for knowledge, for it will hinder you more than help you. It is sufficient that you feel yourself pleasingly stirred by a thing that is merged to yourself, a thing you do not know what, and you have no thoughts of anything below God, and your intention is nakedly directed towards God. In the work of divine contemplation no intermediaries are used, nor can be used. All intermediate activities depend upon it, and it depends upon no intermediaries.

I believe that on the Day of Judgment darkness will be dispelled: God, Allah and all his gifts will be seen clearly, and, some who are now despised and unvalued as common sinners and perhaps some who now are hideous sinners will sit in glory with saints in God's sight; while some of those who now seem very holy and are honoured by men as if they were angels, and indeed perhaps some of those who have never yet committed sins will sit in misery. From this you can see that no one should be judged by others here in this life for the good or evil that they do. Beauty may lie elsewhere. Actions may be judged as good or evil, but not our fellow men...

Then, Jack scrolled down to the second section of the e-book authored by Mohammad. It was a work of fiction, either a very long short story or a novella. He glanced at the title: "The Supreme Leader and the Three Messiahs." Inserted before the text began was a short Preface by the Author:

"Below is presented the a story, behind which lies another story. The piece was penned by me during the recent Jerusalem Crisis in which I found myself held captive in the caves of Fordo, near Qom on the outskirts of Teheran. It was originally written as an exercise in my time of confinement to divert my anxieties and make use of an unexpected onrush of unexpected creative energies. It found its first reading during a literary gathering or salon, hosted by the Supreme Leader of that country. You may say it is a loose adaptation of a theme found in Dostoyevsky's The Grand Inquisitor, but above all it is a play of the free imagination upon the conditions of our time.

Subsequent to its composition, many worthy men of our faith shared with me their misgivings as to the wisdom of publishing the work, citing the danger that it might raise doubts and undermine the faith of the believers in Islam. Reluctantly, I relented to their qualms and delivered the manuscript to my Pir, the head of the Naqushbandi Sufi Order, and he forwarded it to the Supreme Leader, being advised that it would be God, Allah's will that it should be destroyed.

Thus, you may imagine my surprise when, months later, I received an express-mail package in Jerusalem, which contained a handsome volume bound in Moroccan leather, containing the printed narrative which you find below, published by the State publishing house of Iran. Hand-inscribed on the fly-leaf was the following letter, addressed to myself from that very same Supreme Leader:

"My Esteemed Sufi Brother in Faith:

Several weeks past, I had delivered into my hands by Colonel Moussai the manuscript of your novella, "The Supreme Leader and the Three Messiahs," which you had been so kind as to read aloud to myself and my gathered guests at our literary salon at Qom, which he informs me you had delivered to your Naqshbandi Pir with the intention that it be destroyed on the representation of your superiors that it might have some tendency to undermine the faith of the brothers and sisters of the Ummah.

I thank you very kindly for your submission to the duties and authority of our religion, and your willingness to consider the health of the Ummah before your personal welfare. I appreciate how this may reflect positively upon your virtue and character as a Sufi Muslim.

I must inform you, however, that I refuse to accept your offer to destroy the fruit of your imagination in the interests of the suppression of a possible source of doubt concerning our faith. On the contrary, and in furtherance of our effort to Open the Gates of Ijtihad, I have taken the liberty of instructing our state publishing house to issue a limited edition of your work, a copy of which I enclose as my personal gift. However much I appreciate the strength of your character in offering to make such a sacrifice, I cannot have it said that the faith of our ulama and of our brothers and sisters of the ummah was so weak or fearful of challenge as to require the burning of books and of authors. To the contrary, I have such robust faith in the depth and power of our faith, that I fully trust that any challenge to that faith, any doubt which may be engendered by your work, will if need be and as need be, be adequately answered by our rational debate and the responsive deepening of the roots of our faith. And I will knock out the teeth of any cowardly pipsqueak who dares say different!"

Then Jack, smiling but not attempting to begin the novella, thumbed down to the first page of the Third Section:

Tikkun Olam: Healing and Restoring the World

By Ami Giyalon

The recent tragedy in Jerusalem has dumfounded the world. The heart of the world gropes in darkness. I headed Shin Bet for years but in the end I gave up looking for a solution in terms of military and police measures. I think the only solution is a movement in good faith, accepting considerable risk, and a spiritual healing between the communities. I focus on the mystical Hebrew concept tikkun olam or "healing or restoring the world" which suggests humanity's shared responsibility with the Creator to heal, repair and transform the world. Here in Israel we are told that all of our struggle is to build a Jewish state, a Jewish homeland. But that is not what we are building. A state with many Jews in it is not a Jewish state unless it embodies an ethos of love and justice and becomes a living proof that healing and transformation is possible. Israel is not yet a Jewish state in this sense, so we will support the forces that will help it evolve in that direction. To make it possible for Jewish values of love, justice, and peace to triumph inside its own society, and to open the possibility that Israelis could rediscover the deep spiritual truths of Judaism to heal its rifts with other nations, peoples and faiths and thereby to heal and restore our suffering world is our highest calling as a people. As Albert Einstein counseled us in the founding years of Israel, "Should we be unable to find a way to honest cooperation and honest pacts with the Arabs, then we have learned absolutely nothing during our 2000 years of suffering." Yet he also comforted us that with a realizable rebirth of their common human spirit, "the two great Semitic peoples have a great common future."All of this is incredibly complex and difficult but it must be done if there is to be any way forward.

The search for a spiritual road forward for humanity is how I came to be involved in promoting the Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance in Israel and Palestine that could be a common spiritual platform for Muslims, Jews, Christians, Buddhists—even secular humanists, materialists, existentialists and communists. After the fall of Communism the aspirational left has had a big hole in their idealism—somewhat filled by the Green-Environmental movement but without the revolutionary commitment. We are all searching for a new path and I have been seeking spiritual roots for the evolution of that new Third Path, between and beyond the two materialisms of Communism and Capitalism—rooted in a common humanism and spirituality linked to a renewed harmony with nature and a responsible stewardship of humanity over the environment of the planet.

The old creeds must become intellectually honest and spiritually alive, as they now are not. At present there is not a single credible established religion in the world. That is perhaps the most stupendous fact in the world situation. We are still searching for a living relevant creed—one that actively confronts the world's miseries and its changing complexities, one that welcomes changes as realities change while preserving the best of our spiritual heritage; one that catalyzes rather than strangles the creative life of the human spirit; one that makes of religion a joyous and spontaneous offering of the heart nurtured and tempered in the wisdom of the soul, rather than a joyless and mindless obligation and authoritarian ritual; one which is universal in its aspirations and embrace, rather than totemic and tribalistic in its reactivity, jealousies and hatreds.

Our spiritual progressive movement seeks to create, call forth and evolve that alternative. We are a global community of people from many faiths and traditions, called together by a common vision of healing and transforming our world. We include in this call both the outer transformation needed to achieve social justice, ecological sanity, and world peace, and the inner healing needed to foster loving relationships, a generous attitude toward the world and toward others unimpeded by the distortions of our egos, or of our magnified egos manifested as narrow nationalisms. Our movement will encourage a habit of generosity and trust, and the ability to respond to the grandeur of creation with awe, a new harmony with nature and the ecological environment on which our sustainable future depends, and a return to a revitalized wonder and radical amazement at our human experience...

Then growing a bit tired, Jack's thumb and forefinger flipped and scrolled the iPad to the illustrations, where he found several photographs of Isis, Mohammad, Ami, Jennie and Pari with their baby girl Lotus, together inspecting the ruins from the bomb blast, and another at the groundbreaking ceremony for the Spiritus Mundi Temple. He regarded the many photos of the ruins from the blast, one with Isis in a habit reminiscent of Mother Teresa, encaptioned "Mother Isis." He thought the day would come when this episode, now so imposing in collective memory, is forgotten, and since mankind seeks an explanation for everything, whether it be true or false, tales and legends would be invented, containing facts to begin with, then moving gradually away from those facts, until they would become pure fantasy.

Then he scrolled down to the end section of the book, in which the final section of Jennie Zheng's spiritual autobiography "My Xi You Ji: A Personal Journey to the West via the East, or the New Kama Sutra of the Spirit" began with:

Above praṇa, the light

Past light, the crystal

Above crystal, the Jade!

As he scrolled further, his attention was then caught involuntarily by a letter reproduced within the text. It was a letter from Jennie Zheng to Yoriko Oe:

"I do not consider, despite all, that either you or I are to be considered failures. We are indications of the development of a womanhood which is as yet not recognized. It has so far no ready made channels to run in, neither those of simple tradition nor those of supposed woman's liberation, and that upon our having looked and tested and tried them we have found found that none of the present tracks for women will hold us—that something better and stronger is needed...

There will be women who will come after us who will approach nearer the fullness of woman's nature. I regard myself as a crude rudiment, an immature growth of the higher possibilities and qualities that lie in women, charged with suffering and sensibility, and for so many ages mute and dumb, that seem to have brimmed and overflowed and uttered a demand for something—I know not what—for something which is perhaps incompatible with the facts of human existence. This is not the social problem of women—the problem of the position of women in society—for even to solve that social problem is no more than to take but the first step in addressing the greater problem as a whole: the search for, and the seeking out of its living means of spiritual realization, of the purpose of a human life."

Wearied at last, Jack scrolled to the bottom, where the book ended with the passage from the Upanishads as read to her in bed by her lover, soul mate and spiritual partner Pari Kasiwar at their newly founded Ashram at the Dal Lake, the last thing Jack took in before his eyes closed, drowsing above the clouds:

"Sent forth by whom, impelled by whom does the mind proceed on its errand? At whose command does the breath go forth? At whose wish do we utter this speech? What power directs the eye, or the ear?

The teacher replied: 'It is the ear of the ear, the mind of the mind, the speech of the speech, the breath of the breath, the lingam of the lingam, and the eye of the eye...

The eye does not go thither, nor speech, nor mind. We do not know it, we do not understand it, how can one teach it. It is other than the known; it is also above the unknown..."

(Kena Upanishad I.1-4)

2

Andreas' Blog Journal:

Call me Andreas. You do not know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly. It may seem to be a long time and be very short—or sometimes it is a long time but shortened in your memory. In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry, swelling with the hunger of the whale, aspiring to grow to devour the limitlessness of the sea of its origin. The paths and roads and streets take you waterward. Take almost any path that you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there in a pool in the stream, and that stream flows with you through a forest or a field or a steppe past farms and the lights of cities in the night ever onward towards a greater tributary and from thence into a greater river. And all rivers great and small lead you on to the sea. Take any dry path you like, and in a fit or reverie of unthinking, putting foot before unthinking foot, it will lead you onward to some water's edge. There is magic in it. Some years ago, never mind how long, walking downwards a soldier along a pathway I followed such a dust road which led me onwards towards the watery part of the world. A soldier became a sailor. A journey became an odyssey. It is said that the great white whale once walked on legs upon land and then returned to the element of his origins, fluent in his comings and fluent in his goings—strong in the lungs of life. It is said that a great whale swallowed once a man and the man was not devoured but emerged again into the world and the light of day, and was delivered from darkness.

Once upon a time there was a soldier who became a sailor. He followed his Captain down to forbidden seas and barbarous coasts. He followed his Captain on a questing quest—to squeeze a world into a ball—followed that great white whale across the wide seas. Alone he returned, and I only am escaped alone to tell thee... O Captain my Captain!

There was once a man who became a soldier and fought in a senseless war until he made a separate peace. He walked away from dubious battle and took a boy his brother with him out of the jungle and slaughter into the region of life. There once was a man who chose life over death and strode out over the wide world to find it, but when he found it in a woman ran away from it and found it not. There once was a soldier who took off the clothes of war and put on the clothing of peace. There once was a man who took off the clothing of peacemaking to make love naked to a woman but peace made he not, neither made he love. Blessed are the peacemakers, for peace shall be given unto them.

There was once a professor, his name was Sartorius. He led young men into their future, pointing to a dream too beautiful for words. He gave up his life following a dream. The dream chewed him up and spat him out. It led him to a promised land, but allowed him no entry. There once was a man who followed a professor, his Captain, on a questing quest as long as life and as long as death. They loved the same woman and mirrored themselves both in the convex mirror of her soul and in the concave mirror of her body. There once was a man who loved a woman and possessed her, body and soul and heart, and then died. There once was a man unworthy who had a woman and lost her to a better man, and possessed only his freedom and the emptiness of his hands and heart. He followed his better, his Captain, who took what he had loved and whom he should have hated, but instead loved him the more. He followed his Captain, and would have died for him, and should have died, but his Captain died for him instead, and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.

There was once a woman, her name was Eva. She was there at the beginning of the world. She was there when Paradise was lost. Long searched she for love in this wide world and found it not. She took a man unworthy of herself until he fretted her peace away. She loved a man unworthy of her until he fretted her Paradise away, and ran away from her to find a freer Hell. A better man came and redeemed her love and restored her paradise but another world took him away from her and left her alone again, but with the seeds of a future growing in her womb.

There was once a father who lost his son. Long searched they for each other across the wide world longing. Long the many seas parted them, longing for son and home, longing for father, longing for the place where their lives belonged and merged into each other, searched they this world. Long were they lost to each other. Long was their longing unfulfilled. At long last found they eachother across the many seas, the prodigal father and the prodigal son, embraced and traveled many worlds together and dreamed a dream together and fought for a world together until they were together no more, and death parted them.

Once upon a time there was a dreamer who dreamed a dream of a better world. For short years he walked on this earth and shared his dream with others and asked them to believe and follow him in his dream. But they believed not and mocked him. He asked them to make peace and instead they made war and dragged him away. And so he went forth from love of this world into another and returned with the seeds of a greater love, but death took him still in its folds and carried him away. But he left behind him a book and a faith, a house, and a dream to be lived.

There once was a spy who loved his country. So did he love his country that he made love to women to learn what his country needed to learn. So made he love to a woman in a far land, but the woman loved him not. The woman loved one, another woman, who loved him but whom he loved but a little, but loved on, for the love of love, and the love of his country's sake. So the woman loved another, who loved her not but loved on for the sake of her love of a man, who loved his country.

There once was a lover who loved a spy, her name was Yoriko. She loved a man who was a spy but she knew it not. He left her alone with her love and married another. Long searched she for love but found it not. She followed him to another land, ready to die and lose all rather than lose him. For her love's sake she allowed herself to be loved by another, not him but a woman, who loved her but not him. She followed him ready to die for her love. But she died not. She for his sake made love to a woman, but the woman who loved her died for his and his country's sake, and she knew it not.

There was once a woman who killed herself. She was called The General. The General killed herself rather than suffer the dishonor of others killing her. She loved another who was a woman, and she loved her honour her dignity. She loved the honour of the code of Bushido, though the country of Bushido was not her home, but only the home of her heart. Out of her love she betrayed her country's secrets, but knew it not. Out of her dignity she killed herself, though her captors knew it not.

There once was a story of Three Messiahs who came to earth to save the people of the world. But their dream was too heavy for the people to bear, and out of their great love they departed the world silently, to ease their sufferings in this world.

There once was a Supreme Leader who had a dream of an Angel. The angel's name was Gibreel. The Angel Gibreel came to the Supreme Leader in a dream and told him he had a message from heaven. The Angel Gibreel bore a message from heaven to open the doors—to open the Gates of Ijtihad. To open the sluice gates of the soul and the heart and the mind, doors that had been sealed by centuries of rote unthinking, to open them, and the eyes and the hearts and the minds of the people, to open them to the living light and spirit of God, whose name was Allah in his country.

Once there was a world that longed for a savior.

There were once Three Messiahs who longed for a world.

He's coming, He's coming! Who is coming? The Christ child, the Mahdi, the Maitreya, the Savior? Or is it the world's executioner with the mechanism of detonation under his arm, that always goes ticktock? And he says: I am the Savior of the world. And an incredulous world believes, there's faith for you—in Santa Claus, in the Revolution, in the Great Leader, in a Utopia, in a Promised Land, a Heaven, in anything that takes the pain and the reality away and replaces it with a dream and the peace of unthinking.

For my part, I don't know. I don't know.

There was once a world.

There was once a world that dreamed.

There was once a world that dreamed of an end.

There was once a world that dreamed of a beginning.

There was once a world that dreamed of a Savior.

There once was a world that lived in a dream.

There once was a world that dreamed itself.

For my part, I don't know. I don't know.

There once was a world that lived in a dream. And the people of the world fell into that dream as a man falls into the sea. They began to hope that soon it would be over, so they might begin afresh or continue, hoping after or even during the finale that the end would soon be over. The end of what? They still did not know. They only hoped that it would soon be over, over tomorrow, but not today; for what were they to do if the end came so suddenly? And then when the end came, they quickly turned it into a hopeful beginning; for in their countries the end is always the beginning and there is hope in every, even in the most final, end. And so too it is written: As long as a man hopes, he will go on turning out hopeful finales.

For my part, I don't know

For my part, I don't know. I don't know if I can believe in angels, or messiahs, or revolutions or progress or a better world. I don't know if I can believe in love of the truth setting us free. I don't know if this thing, this Parliamentary Assembly, will make the world any better or worse, bring our suffering souls together in heart and mind in peace or become but another arena of human pretence, delusion, conflict, selfish manipulation and hypocrisy. All there is is the trying and the living forward, which some people call faith.

Another thing I don't know: I don't know how nuclear detonations can be unexploded and the means and the motive of man's self-suicide or self-destruction uninvented. I don't know how the human heart can be purged of its weakness and excesses of millennia of war and persecution and exploitation. I don't know if I can believe the Advent, the time of longing for a Redeemer, is flowing again, or flowing still, I do not know. I don't know, nor know whether the time of day matters; for love and life know no time of day, and hope is without end, and faith knows no limits, only knowing and not knowing are subject to times and limits and usually end before their time.

There once was a father who lost and found his son.

There once was a woman who was there at the beginning of the world.

There once was a son who lost and found his father.

There once was a soldier who found himself swimming.

There once was a soldier who found himself swimming in the rain in a river at full flood.

There once was a soldier who found himself swimming.

# CHAPTER XXI.

### New York

### In My End is My Beginning—

### The Convening of the First Meeting of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly

Eva got up early that morning to take Little Euphy down to the United Nations building in New York for a special walk around the grounds. It was the first time she had been back to the UN Headquarters building since she and Robert toured the building together during the year of the Global Appeal for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. That would be three years ago, she calculated on her fingers, as they had come when she was three months pregnant and Little Euphy was already walking and talking. They had flown in from London two days ago and yesterday had been taken up by an outing in Central Park with "Uncle Jack,"—really Euphy's brother but so much older that they had to change it to uncle for Euphy to understand—including a jaunt to the zoo and the Metropolitan Museum.

She tried hard that morning not to let the thinking of Robert get too painful or push her off the edge of the cliff towards depression again. With Little Euphy looking so much like him and the baby pictures of Robert at the same age she still had in her bedroom dresser drawer it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he was gone. For her some object of memory had only to abrade the surface of her consciousness and the pain and the memory that was always there a millimeter beneath the surface of her life would obtrude and she would feel like crying at the pit of her stomach, and now and again did. Sometimes she wanted to die too, just to be beside him in spirit, but she knew that Robert was counting on her to carry on and live after him, taking care of Little Euphy for him too, and so she put on a good face and got him ready and shepherded him towards the big events of the day he had been told, uncomprehending in his three year old way, to expect and look forward to.

The end of mourning is not like the end of the life it mourns: it is not an event. Nor is there any measure of it, as to how long is sufficient time to mourn, and one's return to the things of this world, which call out even as we and those we love depart, cannot be planned. Eva died with Robert's death, yet because life went on, she went on; with some instinctive inkling that the moving edge of night in this one hemisphere of our sad existence must needs bring new light to some other half, existing somewhere unknown in the blackness, beyond the horizon of hope, she went on.

For Eva, though recovered to apparent possession of herself, and resolved to live onwards for the sake of her children and from the innate life-affirming nature of her natural spirit, had not outlived her sorrow—had not ceased to carry her travail daily, a mere scratch beneath the surface of her somnambulant habitual movements, vacant of the presence of her lost beloved. Perhaps providently thus—it were a poor result of all our anguish and of our wrestling with tears, pain and unanswered questions, if we won nothing but our old selves at the end of it—if we returned to but the same innocent dreams of a blissful happily-ever-after, the same frivolous unconsciousness of the pains, sufferings, and the blighted and ruined lives of others, the same feeble sense of that Unknown towards which we have directed helpless and plaintive cries in our loneliness. Better, perhaps, the thankfulness that our sorrow lives on in our deeper hearts, an onward-flowing indestructible energy, changing only in its form, as energies do even unto transformation into tangible matter, or dark matter, passing even from pain into a sympathetic compassion for this transient world and all the things, creatures, happenings and souls in transit within it. Not that such transformation had yet already taken place for Eva, who still bore the pain of loss alive sharply within her. But as in cases of chronic disease, we become accustomed or inured to mental as well as bodily pain, by degrees losing our hypersensitivity to it, until it is reduced to a submerged yet real presence, and we are in the end thankful we may bear our daily grief in silence, or forgotten in episodic diversions capable of a temporary relief and evoking perhaps a benign smile; that sense of our lives having visible and invisible connections, beyond any of which either our present or anticipated self is the center, by slow degrees, blosssoms forth.

The dead are loved in a different way. They are removed from our touch and the language we speak of them is a different language than we speak to the living. The language of the living is a different language than the language of the dead. Eva spoke to her beloved Robert daily in their own tongue, a tongue beyond translation into this world, and in a tongue as close to her inward thoughts as a tongue to lips, a tongue that required neither tongue nor lips but sounded onwards after tongue and lips that once had spoken words of so warm love in the language of the living, had long ceased to be, except for the one person who shared it, and in a tongue whose sanctity resembled silent or whispered prayer.

Thus, Eva awoke from her extended fit of distraction so unspeakingly noticed with askance and politely unnoticing eyes, by the young secretary from the Secretary General's personal office, Franchesca, and rose to lead little Euphy into the elevator of the Secretariat Building and out into the sculpture gardens to give him a runabout. Little Euphy pulled away from her arms and ran across the grass to chase the pigeons off the Vutchetich "Swords into Plowshares" sculpture, with its socialist realism smeared with white and gray pigeon droppings. She was surprised that he was running so well for his age—he was more developed than Sarah was at that age—who could believe it?—Sarah out of prep school now and a freshman at Cambridge! Unbelievable as she was "Mom" again to Little Euphy just when Sarah was leaving the nest. "Plus ca la change..." somehow played itself like something from the elevator's Muzak in her brain. She laughed as Euphy scrambled up the sculpture's face to get at the last bird perched high atop its upraised hammerhead.

Then they followed Euphy's scampering out to the front of the building and went inside the Public Lobby. On the East side Euphy stopped to coo at the Chagall Stained Glass with its childlike figurines in deep cerullian blue and guled red hues—the snake of the Garden of Eden and the loving embrace of the angels—where were the angels?—We needed them now so much, she thought—and then she remembered Robert's loving the angels from the Duino Elegies of Rilke, which he had read to her in parts when he rested his head upon her pregnant belly on the big rosewood bed in London and felt another submerged pangful urge towards tears tug at her insides. She tried momentarily to gather it all together and make sense of all that had happened to herself and Robert and of the vastness of this world and of worlds beyond... "That is not a flight for my wings" she whispered to herself. The angels must be watching somewhere—above or beneath the surface of things, she mused—if the world was beautiful enough to have given her Little Euphy it also must be beautiful enough to contain angels—somewhere.

Euphy's attention span was not long enough, however, for his little mind to dwell on such matters, and after a coo at Chagall's angels he was once again on the run, following the sounds of a rich and charming oriental bell which was pealing at the other end of the lobby. Could it be? Yes, today must be the first day of Spring, the Vernal Equinox, one of the two days of the year when they rang the Japanese Peace Bell. A Japanese girl in a ceremonial kimono moved from tea table to the bell and was just sounding the small wooden log against the side of the bronze bell as Euphy ducked under the velvet rope barrier and scampered up to her shouting riotously in a hue subversive of the intended solemnity of the occasion put on for the crowd of onlookers. The girl in the kimono broke out into a broad and laughing smile at him as he reached for the log and let him strike the bell, revealing the latent infantile sympathy that Eva often discovered to lie so near the surface of the otherwise strait-faced oriental conventionality. Then Eva pulled him away with an effusive apology.

Eva looked into Little Euphy's eyes, so much the same colour as Robert's, and saw there the pale reflection of Robert's continuing presence on earth. "Poor Robert" she sighed silently to herself as she dragged Euphy from his mischief. Now, unspokenly, she was comforted by the sense that her beloved Robert had not disappeared into the boundless blackness of death, as it had first seemed, but that part of him had returned to be ever beside her, a yet living face and presence giving counsel, comfort and support, staying behind and always near, alongside her and Euphy, the living embodiment of them both. Franchesca took her in hand, in sympathy with Eva's sad and tender look, rather than because she understood all that was passing in her mind, nor did Eva quite understand it herself. A death that had come out of time; a wonder if the dead knew or could see what passed upon the earth they had so recently left behind—the convulsions the world had gone through; the death that separated Robert from the fruits of all he had worked for and those he had so loved; Andreas' stunning success; the vanity of human wishes; and the ever enduring life that insisted on persisting beyond the innumerable failures and disappointments and the bitter endings of each life's story, all of these thoughts and what they suggested were inextricably mingled up in her mind beyond the reach of words.

The Foucault Pendulum was the next object of Euphy's wonder and delight as he followed the incessant back and forth movements of the gold-plated ball as it slowly made its way in graceful curves, from time to time knocking over the carefully placed pins to prove and discover to an unconscious world the massive but invisible speed of the earth's rotation and the onflowing current of time. After allowing Franchesca to take him in hand Eva took in the remainder of the Peace Bell ceremony and read the plaque on the wall beside the bell:

"Whenever it has sounded, this Japanese Peace Bell has sent a clear message. The message is addressed to all humanity. Peace is precious. It is not enough to yearn for peace. Peace requires work — long, hard, difficult work." Boutros-Boutros Ghali, Secretary General."

Then she could not help but think of the events of the last three years—Robert's death, Euphorion's birth, the founding of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly last fall in the great counter-reaction to all the events which had gone before—and Andreas's election as its first Speaker—the triple-awarding in October of the Nobel Peace Prize to Andreas, the new UN Secretary General Clinton and the current American President—all too much to be believable. They all seemed in somebody's eyes, to be making history, but history is not something that gets made, that gets over and done with—history is now, and history is tomorrow....and the only new thing in the world is the history that you do not know...If only Robert had survived he would have been part of it and seen his life's work crowned so gloriously.

And it comforted her that the future seemed perhaps inevitable, cause and effect, garrulous old friends, would go on jangling forward, sucking in and spitting out lives to some goal doubtless, but to none which she could imagine. At moments such as these to her the soul retires within, to float upon the bosom of a deeper stream, and has communion with the dead, and sees the world's glory not diminished, but different in kind to what she had supposed. Robert lay dead, yet life was a deep, deep river, death a blue sky; a flower a tower a house a hungry road a child—life and death were anything and everything except the ordered insanity from which she momentarily averted her mind to smile upon her little babe.

Now, today, she and Little Euphy would stand in his stead beside Andreas as he opened and called to order the very first meeting of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. She was glad that Little Euphy would see the result of his father's work. Though he had never seen his father's face he would look upon the face of his father's achievement, and he would constitute the living memory of his existence. Thus for a moment it seemed to Eva that each age had found itself, again and again, in the perilous dark, and each age had feared for its future, and each age had yielded up, lost its forefathers and turned to the babes running trustfully towards that ever looming future. And so they have turned to God or their gods, thinking to themselves, if there are shadows then there must also be light! And likewise, if there are years there must surely be an eternity, of which time is but a fleeting shadow. And what seemed wonderful to Eva, for just that moment, was that that eternity intersects with that flowing time, just as in the felt presence of a cathedral, or in the sound of the Peace Bell in this miniature temple.

But she lost that thought and that suspended moment as she had to run to stop Euphy, who had outrun Franchesca, from pulling at the pieces of the Norman Rockwell Mosaic, and she got there just in time to apologise to the guard and drag him away. Franchesca picked him up and handed him a Snickers bar, which seemed to take the mischief out of him—for a couple of minutes at least. After that he disturbed the solemn faces in the Dag Hammarskjold Library and left his chocolate fingerprints on the bottom of the teakwood dress of the wooden sculpted woman releasing her dove in the Trusteeship Council chamber. Eva was determined to be more strict with him and avoid spoiling him—but on another day!—Today was to be his own day to have as much joy as he could—befitting his name which Robert and she had picked out of Faust as the joy-child of Helen and Faust—and befitting the occasion of the culmination of Robert's life work...yes, this day she would spoil him completely!...if only for a day...

Franchesca answered her mobile phone, and then turned to tell Eva that the first session of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly would start in just a half-hour and that its new Speaker Mr. Sarkozy was waiting for her on the platform. She made her way down the long corridor of the General Assembly Building—specially adapted and refurnished to accommodate the Parliamentary Assembly until they would have a larger building of their own—Little Euphy's hand embraced within her own. Then she was guided behind the stage at the back of the central podium and she mounted the stairs, her eyes half-blinded by the glare of the television lights as she helped Euphy negotiate the too-big steps upward. As she mounted the podium stairs she heard the voice of Andreas introducing her, calling to memory Dr. Robert Sartorius who could not be with us, but whose gracious widow would call to mind his memory before he called this very first Session to order. Then she waved to the audience as they applauded, and she picked up Little Euphy and cradled him under one arm under the strong lights as she waved with the other. And then she rose and took out the notes for her prepared speech as she heard Andreas coming to the end of his quote from T.S. Eliot, offered as one of Robert's most favourite poems in remembrance of him...

"In my beginning is my end...

In my end is my beginning..."

# APPENDIX 1:

COMMITTEE FOR A UNITED NATIONS PARLIAMENTARY ASSEMBLY

A United Nations Parliamentary Assembly

Frequently Asked Questions

By Andreas Sarkozy & Robert Sartorius

Foreword

In September 2004 the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (CUNPA) published a strategy paper on the question of the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA), titled "Developing International Democracy – For a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations". The paper has been widely distributed in print and was downloaded from CUNPA's website several thousand times since.

Following the publication and distribution of the strategy paper, we've received a substantial quantity of feedback. Additionally, its content and conclusions have been presented to many different audiences and to individual decision makers all over the world.

In this compilation we have collected some of the most common questions which we have been asked at our presentations, workshops and at other occasions. Some of the questions are very basic, others more sophisticated. We have tried not to repeat ourselves too much. Thus, this collection of questions and answers certainly does not replace the comprehensive overview and information given in the above mentioned strategy paper. It serves as an addition which makes it possible to get certain answers quicker and more directly. Anyone not familiar with the CUNPA proposal, however, probably should read the strategy paper first to get the big picture.

Not least, this compilation also intends to assist all those fellow activists who may be faced with similar questions themselves. We welcome any comments and feedback.

Contents

General questions

1.1. What is a parliamentary assembly?

1.2. What is so important about a UNPA?

1.3. Since publication of the strategy paper, what new aspects did come up?

1.4. What is the Global Marshall Plan and what has it to do with the UNPA project?

1.5. Don't we have enough bodies and bureaucracy already at the international level?

1.6. What are the preconditions of a world parliament? Isn't the idea simply an utopia?

1.7. Following the principle of subsidiarity, government should be brought as near to the people as possible and people should enjoy maximum freedom within the law to run their own lives. Would a global assembly really help to advance such freedom in any significant way?

1.8. Before we can elect an assembly for the world, the world should be willing to become a governable entity. Instead of moving in that direction, it is becoming more fragmented and polarized. Isn't this obstructing the idea to set up a UNPA?

1.9. Doesn't the Inter Parliamentary Union already fulfill the function of a UNPA?

1.10. . What makes you think this would really work?—Are there any successful real world experiences to draw upon?

1.11. What's the history of the idea of a world parliament going back to WWI and earlier, and why hasn't it been realized since that time?

1.12. Wouldn't international cooperation become even more complicated and ineffective if a UNPA would have a say?

1.13. Not all UN politics are to the good of the people why then concentrate on the UN at all?

Creation of a UNPA

2.1. Wouldn't a UNPA be too hard to establish? Is a reform of the UN Charter needed to establish a UNPA? Wouldn't some big country just veto it?

2.2. Where will the UNPA be located?

2.3. Which are the steps to be taken for the creation of this new body?

2.4. How much does a UNPA cost and where would the money come from?

2.5. Couldn't civil society organize its own world parliament? Why draw upon national parliaments?

Design of a UNPA

3.1. How many members will each country have?

3.2. If such a planetary assembly would be popularly elected, a third of the seats would go to China and India. What voice would people from smaller countries have?

3.3. How can one have free elections for the UNPA in countries that do not allow free elections for their citizens at all?

3.4. Are there other models than that recommended by CUNPPA?

3.5. How can the ordinary citizen participate in the work of a UNPA?

3.6. Why should the maximum number of delegates range between 700 and 900?

Rights and functions

4.1. What would a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly do?—What would the main functions of a UNPA be?

4.2. Would delegations of the UNPA have the right to participate in international governmental conferences?

4.3. Can you give some examples where parliamentary control of international action would have been crucial?

4.4. What is the ultimate aim of establishing a UNPA?

Campaign for a UNPA

5.1.What can I do to support the campaign?

5.2. Which governments support the UNPA proposal?

5.3. Which parliaments support the UNPA proposal?

5.4. Who else is supporting the idea?

5.5 What Testimonials and Statements of Support has the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly received from Parliaments, NGO's and notable individuals?

5.6. What are the views inside the IPU about the CUNPPA campaign?

5.7. What if the United States or another veto power does not support the proposal?

United Nations Parliamentary Assembly FAQ

General questions

What is a parliamentary assembly?

An international parliamentary assembly is a consultative body attached to an international organization. It is usually composed of parliamentarians appointed by the parliaments of the organization's member states. Examples of existing parliamentary assemblies include: The

Pan African Parliament, the NATO Parliamentary Assembly, The Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, the Parliamentary Assembly of the OSCE, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation and the Parliamentary Assembly of the Francophonie. A Parliamentary Assembly may also be constituted by direct international elections, as in the case of the European Parliament of the European Union, to date the most highly evolved example and model of a Parliamentary Assembly. Existing models may evolve into the future to assume the greater powers of a true constitutional Parliament. However, as yet no parliamentary assembly exists on the global level. For a fuller discussion of the concept of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nations_Parliamentary_Assembly

What is so important about a UNPA?

Currently, the governance of the international system is a process exclusively between governments. An international representation of citizens or parliamentary control of international governmental action and international organizations as such, does not exist. A

United Nations Parliamentary Assembly would address this democracy deficit or "democratic deficit" by introducing the voice of the citizens into the United Nations and international politics. The membership of the assembly would reflect the composition of national parliaments and thus would also include members of opposition parties who are not participating in government. Furthermore, in contrast to government diplomats, members of the UNPA would be free from instructions, free to take a global perspective and to represent the world community as such. In addition, a UNPA would be an important link between the citizens and the United Nations who step by step could be vested with information, participation and control rights and therefore would act as body for international parliamentary oversight. It could serve as a parliamentary umbrella for international cooperation. By addressing issues concerning global governance and United Nations reform, it could become a political catalyst for the further development of the international system and eventually could be transformed into a principal organ of a reformed United Nations.

Furthermore a Parliamentary Assembly is increasingly necessary as a matter of efficiency to provide a permanent and continuous forum in international treaty negotiations such as the Climate Change conferences in Bali, Copenhagen and Durban, and to make them more democratic. The experience of the Climate Change, WTO and other specialized international conferences is that it is simply not workable to merely convene a treaty Conference every two, five or eight years for two weeks to deal with these subjects. There needs to be a permanent assembly with specialized committees working continuously on debate, consensus building and treaty drafting on these matters with continuous dialogue and feedback between governments and civil society to avoid the too sporadic, short and demonstration disrupted plenary conferences which are now far too slow and obsolete.

Since publication of the strategy paper, what new aspects have come up?

The strategy paper of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (CUNPPA) on the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA) was released in September 2004 and published as paperback book in May 2005. The discussion on the recommendations included in the paper is an open ended process. At some point, the Committee will publish a follow up paper reviewing its strategy and considering enhancements and changes.

Important aspects which came up with regard to the basic concept are the inclusion of a delegation of the European Parliament into a UNPA (being a directly elected parliament), the possible inclusion of representatives of indigenous peoples, means to guarantee gender equality in the UNPA and the question whether and how local decision makers may be included as well.

1.4. What is the Global Marshall Plan and what has it to do with the UNPA project?

The Global Marshall Plan (GMP) has developed out of a nongovernmental initiative. It aims at a better design of globalization and global economic processes: a so called worldwide "eco-social market economy." The focus lies on an improved global structural framework, sustainable development, the eradication of poverty, environmental protection and equity, altogether thought to be resulting in a new global economic miracle. The Global Marshall Plan includes the following five core goals: implementation of the globally agreed upon UN Millennium Goals by 2015;

2) raising of an additional 100 billion US$ a year required to achieve the Millennium Goals, to enhance worldwide development; fair and competitively, neutral raising of these necessary resources, also by burdening global financial and other transactions; gradual establishment of a worldwide eco-social market economy with an improved global policy framework through the interlinking of established rules and agreed upon standards for economic, environmental and social issues (WTO, ILO and UNEP standards); new forms of appropriation of funds directed to the grassroots level, while at the same time fighting corruption.

In the view of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly the connection of the Global Marshall Plan and the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly proposal is twofold.

Firstly, the dual aims of enhancing economic and political opportunities for the people are deeply interwoven. Democracy embraces both fair economic and fair political participation in a given society. They are two sides of the same coin which cannot do without each other in the long run. On a global scale, the effort to establish a UNPA therefore covers the political side while the GMP covers the economic one.

On an operational level a UNPA as independent and democratically legitimate body could have a the function of guaranteeing accountability of the GMP's use of money. Administering sums as large as 100 billion US$ a year makes effective control and oversight necessary. This could be provided by an international parliamentary body such as the UNPA.

Links: http://globalmarshallplan.org/

1.5. Don't we have enough bodies and bureaucracy already at the international level?

It's true that the UN system embraces a multitude of programmes, funds, specialized agencies, institutes and other entities (see chart: http://www.un.org/aboutun/chart.html).

While there certainly are opportunities for more efficiency and streamlining, one has to keep in mind that the UN system is designed to take care of the wellbeing of 7 billion people on the international level. Given the growing tasks transferred to the UN by its member states, the UN Secretariat as the core of the system, for example, is very modest in size and budget.

In fact, it cannot fulfill its functions properly because it is not financed and staffed well enough. It has a total staff of about 7,500 and a budget of about 1. 4 billion US Dollars.

The New York City Fire Department's staff alone, for example, is more than two times larger. The combined expenditures of the complete UN system, including, for example, peacekeeping operations, was at 12.3 billion US Dollars in 2001 – less than 2 US Dollars per world inhabitant and year (figures: http://www.globalpolicy.org/finance/tables/tabsyst.htm). The City of New York, in comparison, currently has an annual budget of 52.9 billion US Dollars and thus spends about 6,500 US Dollar per inhabitant and year.

1.6. What are the preconditions of a world parliament? Isn't the idea simply a utopia?

The idea of a world parliament directly elected by the world's population with legislative powers embedded into an effective system of global governance—a true and comprehensive World Parliament in a legally constituted and fully functioning constitutional World Government certainly still is an unrealistic utopia today and the Committee does not advocate or go so far at the present time, which would most likely be unworkable. Instead it advocates a first, but limited step in that direction, creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly of an advisory nature based on already proven models such as the European Parliament of the European Union. In practice the idea of a unified government of the world, or a "United States of Earth" would face insurmountable difficulties because of the extreme social and economic disparities and political differences in development and interests in the world which exist today.

Starting from a broad notion of democracy, encompassing both political and social participation, the concept of international democracy cannot be reduced to merely establishing a new body. This approach could even corrupt the actual intention. The concept rather includes comprehensive questions of human development as well, such as how to create fair economic opportunities for everyone, thus taking on the challenge to reduce extreme poverty and to bridge the wealth divide, or GINI Coeffecient, within as well as between countries. The basic precondition for a world parliament therefore is a minimum of common economic and social welfare in the world which does not yet exist.

On the side of political participation, there are similar problems. The direct, democratic election of delegates to a world parliament in undemocratic states, for example, is simply not possible. Thus, the creation of a fully democratic world parliament, in addition, depends on the development of stable democratic systems at the level of nation states as well.

These issues in mind, however, the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly believes that first steps are possible and urgently needed. This is why it advocates the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

1.7. Following the principle of subsidiarity, government should be brought as near to the people as possible and people should enjoy maximum freedom within the law to run their own lives. Would a global assembly really help to advance such freedom in any significant way?

Yes. A United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA) would help to solve global problems which by their nature cannot be dealt with effectively on a local level but affect people's daily lives. By bringing the voice of the people into the UN system and international relations, a UNPA would contribute to a better understanding and awareness of such global problems. Creating fair economic and social opportunities for the people, for example, is not only a matter of national, regional or local concern. It is also a matter of economic and financial relations in the world. A UNPA therefore is very much in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity since its aim is to enhance the possibility for the citizens to influence the international environment which has an impact on their day to day lives. Subsidiarity means that problems should be dealt with on the level as near to the citizens as possible capable of managing such problems. In case of global problems no such lower level is available. Thus, citizens need an international body to represent them more directly.

1.8. Before we can elect an assembly for the world, the world should be willing to become a governable entity. Instead of moving in that direction, it is becoming more fragmented and polarized. Isn't this obstructing the idea of setting up a UNPA?

No. On the contrary, we believe that a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly would contribute to bridging national differences. Since a UNPA would be composed of a membership which roughly reflects the political composition of the respective national parliaments and of delegates who in principle are not answerable to or controlled by their home governments but rather more directly to their peoples, these would tend to group according to political orientation rather than divide according to national origin. In this way, delegates would recognize political agreement with fellow parliamentarians from other countries and the need for international solutions would become more apparent. A similar development on the regional level has taken place, for example, in the European Parliament.

1.9. Doesn't the Inter Parliamentary Union already fulfill the function of a UNPA?

No. The Inter Parliamentary Union (IPU) is a fraternity of members of existing parliaments meeting only on a sporadic and intermittent basis. It does not directly represent the people at the United Nations. It is an umbrella organization and fraternity of a few members of existing parliaments with no connection or input into the United Nations principal organs. The IPU's goal is to share insights and experiences as members of existing national parliaments and perhaps indirectly channel the views of national parliaments into the UN decision making process, but not to be a continuous deliberative body addressing global problems and needed solutions as its principal activity. Its members are fully absorbed in their work at the national parliament level and have only a small amount of time and effort left over for international efforts. Moreover, its interest is not to democratically control the UN and its decision making by serving as a direct channel for communicating the desires and interests of the underlying peoples, which is the natural role of a genuine parliament. Nor is the IPU at the moment prepared to take on the role of an international legislative organ, which participates in making international laws and regulations through the treaty-making process and otherwise. In a recent paper of 2006, for example, the IPU largely reiterates the Declaration of the First Conference of Presiding Officers of Parliaments of 2000 that the "parliamentary dimension [to international cooperation] must be provided by parliaments first of all at the national level".

1.10. What makes you think this would really work?—Are there any successful real world experiences to draw upon?

When imagining the possible development of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly one can draw first upon the very strong leading example of the European Parliament (EP) as the principal international parliamentary organ of the European Union. Developing out of the Parliamentary Assembly of the European Coal and Steel Community, founded in 1952, the consultative function of the early European Parliament, set up in 1962, was widened to include the right to be heard in legislative processes. Since 1975, the EP has been allowed to co-decide with regard to the budget. At the beginning, the EP consisted of representatives of national parliaments. In 1979, direct election of EP parliamentarians in the EC Member States was introduced. Politically strengthened in that way, the EP rejected the draft budget of the Commission for the first time. Today, the European Parliament has the same rights as the European Council with regard to three quarters of all legislative projects in the European Union. Additionally, successful international parliamentary assemblies have been implemented including the Pan-African Parliament of the African Union, the Arab Parliament of the Arab League, and the Latin American Parliament (Parlatino). Parliamentary Assemblies also exist in other international organizations such as the Inter-Parliamentary Union, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, the NATO Parliamentary Assembly, the WEU Parliamentary Assembly, and the MERCOSUR Parliament.

1.11. What's the history of the idea of a world parliament going back to WWI and earlier, and why hasn't it been realized since that time?

The idea of a world parliament was introduced initially before the First World War. However, at that time, no international or regional organization existed. The paramount thrust of many proponents of an international organization was to introduce some institution which would control national state behaviour at the international level. Thus, they saw as an international organization first the League of Nations, after the Second World War the UN by itself as a kind of parliament which would control states behaviour. That this would not work as long as there was no democratic control within the organization was for a long time not recognized, especially during the time of the Cold War where the UN also took on the role of a mediator.

Therefore, the legitimacy deficit of the UN was only widely criticized after the end of the Iron Curtain era, i. e. the 1990s.

Moreover, there was another, even more important reason why a UN Parliament was never realized. For governments, it was already a huge concession to set up an international organization after the First World War. They were not prepared to give up their sovereignty to an organization which the idea of a parliament would entail when it is implemented, i. e. when it is entrusted with genuine democratic rights of control and lawmaking.

Nevertheless, one government, namely, Germany, tried to introduce a World Parliament as part of the new League of Nations after the First World War. However, Germany could not impose itself since it had lost the war and bargained from a position of weakness. Major decision makers at that time, especially the US President Wilson, the instigator of the League of Nations, were against the idea. This was also the case after the Second World War and continues until today. However, meanwhile, the UN comes under more and more pressure because it demands national democratization, but is not democratically organized itself.

1.12. Wouldn't international cooperation become even more complicated and ineffective if a UNPA would have a say?

Yes and no. On the one hand, it is true that a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations would be another player in the diplomatic scenery which governments and their executives in international organizations would have to take into account to a certain degree, just as the EU Parliament has become. On the other hand, being composed of elected parliamentarians, the assembly would be closer to the citizens and as such it would lend more credibility and legitimacy to international decisions in which it is involved. In this way, the parliamentary assembly actually would contribute to an increased efficiency and efficacy of international actions.

1.13. Not all UN politics are to the good of the people—why then concentrate on the UN at all?

The United Nations was set up after the Second World War in order to avoid wars in the future and to reduce narrow nationalist thinking through cooperation of states. This is also reflected in the UN Charter which describes as the task of the UN "to maintain international peace and security, to develop friendly relations among nations based on respect for the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples and to achieve international cooperation in solving international problems of an economic, social cultural or humanitarian character, and in promoting and encouraging respect for human rights and for fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language or religion" (Art. 1of the UN Charter). In pursuing these goals, the UN has achieved a lot throughout the years, be it with regard to the whole system of human rights, the decolonization process, development, etc.

Of course, not all UN politics may be to the good of all affected by them. The reason for this is that particular political decisions beyond the framework just described are left to the states which have to decide about them in the UN organs. Thus states within the United Nations may be fixated upon the narrow advantage of the governing elites of those states rather than the underlying interests of even their own peoples, let alone the underlying international and global interests of the people of the world as a whole. States are represented by governments not by direct representatives of the people and in addition often have pure national interests and not the common good of the world as their highest priority, for example in the prioritizing of immediate national political concerns over the long-term avoidance of global climate change. Moreover, the UN is made up of thousands of bureaucrats and people in complex organizations and structures always in need some leadership and control in order to be reminded of public goals and not only to cling to their personal interests.

Thus, what the UN needs is an enhanced control and guidance mechanism and not its abolition. It needs most an independent organ which controls governments' UN decision making, weighing it against the common good of all humankind, and similarly evaluates the actions of those implementing the decisions—mainly, the UN Secretariat and governments. The UN has achieved many good things for humanity. More to the point, however, is the simple fact that there is no viable alternative to the United Nations—it is the only organization capable of acting effectively on a global scale in respect to the global problems which urgently need solving. Without it, the world would be poorer, colonized, crueler, and less supervised. Thus, it is better to maintain and improve the UN and to rectify its deficiencies and wrongdoings.

Creation of a UNPA

2.1. Wouldn't a UNPA be too hard to establish? Wouldn't a complicated reform of the UN charter be needed to establish a UNPA? Wouldn't some big country just veto it?

No! Perhaps surprisingly, United Nations Parliamentary Assembly with consultative functions vis-à-vis the UN General Assembly can be established relatively simply by a simple majority vote of the UN General Assembly according to Art. 22 UN Charter which says: "The General Assembly may establish such subsidiary organs as it deems necessary for the performance of its functions." No veto right applies, because the Security Council need not be involved in the decision making.

Besides, a UNPA could also be established by a standalone international treaty and a cooperation agreement with the UN. A reform of the UN Charter, however, would be necessary should the UNPA once be transformed into a more fully functioning principle organ of the world organization at a later step.

2.2. Where will the UNPA be located?

It is too early to determine the eventual seat of a UNPA administration. The Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly does not make recommendations in this respect at this time. To save costs and take advantage of existing infrastructure, however, plenary sessions could be held free of charge in the hall of the UN General Assembly in New York, for example, or at other venues all over the world. A rotation system whereby the assembly would shift its location in successive meetings to the various continents or regions, perhaps in coordination with regional parliamentary assemblies such as the Pan-African Parliament or Parlatino, would involve the opportunity to impart the work of the UNPA to a larger public in the respective regions. Perhaps a system of alternating meetings between New York and on a revolving circuit of each successive continent might be desirable. If a government or regional international organization is ready to place appropriate premises at the UNPA's disposal, at zero cost and for an indefinite duration, this could be an argument to settle the administrative headquarters there.

2.3. Which are the steps to be taken for the creation of this new body?

Politically, the most important step is to secure considerable support by national parliaments and governments, by the concerted efforts of their underlying peoples. Eventually, the proposal needs to be scrutinized and debated in detail by like-minded governments, ideally in cooperation with parliaments and civil society. Depending on the results, these deliberations then would lead to the introduction of an a Proposal into the respective committee of the United Nations General Assembly or, in the alternative, to a special-purpose treaty negotiation process.

2.4. How much does a UNPA cost and where would the money come from?

First calculations of the Committee for a Democratic UN as to how much the setting up of a UNPA would cost resulted in a first rough total estimate of 100 to 120 million Euro per year. This would include the establishment and maintaining of a permanent UNPA Secretariat, the administration, logistics and the carrying out of parliamentary work in a first, still limited step, during an initial contemplated annual session of two to six weeks per year. The figure was calculated based on the budget of the InterParliamentary Union (IPU) for the administration of its Secretariat and on the budget of the European Parliament for travelling, accommodation during sessions as well as for extra costs, costs for special travels in execution of the mandate and general reimbursements. It is based on the assumption that all UN member states which participate possess a constitutionally elected parliament. The actual financial need for the first step can only be quantified if it is clear how the UNPA is to be designed, for example composition, voting procedure, participating states and legal basis. The money could most likely come from UN Member States through incorporating it into the regular UN budget and financing process, as far as a UNPA established according to Article 22 UN Charter is concerned, which Article states: "The General Assembly may establish such subsidiary organs as it deems necessary for the performance of its functions," otherwise arrangements might be made through a budget which has to be set up and financed separately. Alternatively in such a context it is sometimes suggested that voluntary contributions for a direct financing of the UNPA from governments, international organizations, individuals, corporations and other entities could be made possible, analogous to Article 116 of the Statute of the International Criminal Court. This could relieve the regular contributors. A necessary precondition in this respect would be that these contributions are in accordance with relevant criteria defined for this purpose which especially would have to guarantee the independence of the UNPA from donors influence. Furthermore, the UNPA could be recipient of means raised by innovative financial sources such as global taxation of airline travel, and taxation of international financial instruments and flows as reflected in the Tobin Tax proposal, should they once emerge from the process of longer-term historical evolution to be established.

2.5. Couldn't civil society organize its own world parliament? Why draw upon national parliaments?

Certainly, civil society could organize its own global conferences to discuss issues of global concern. In fact, it is doing so. The World Social Forum, for example, is a successful implementation of this approach. Another example was the civil society components of the Millennium Forum which took place in 2000 or the efforts to create a regular NGO Global Conference synchronized to meet yearly just ahead of the annual United Nations General

Assembly sessions.

A parliament, however, is something different. The term describes a type of representative deliberative assembly vested with a varying degree of political powers under a respective express or implied constitution which holds the executive branch of government accountable and participates in action, lawmaking or policymaking. A self organized conference which has no legal links to the established political order and which is not officially elected by the populace obviously is not a "parliament" or parliamentary assembly and certainly cannot undertake public action, develop authoritative policy or adopt any sort of treaty or legislation. Since civil society organizations and their representatives are not popularly elected, they lack a central precondition which characterizes parliaments and their membership, namely to speak with accepted authority for their peoples. The same applies to any self appointed "people's assemblies" or other "Do-it-Yourself" quick fixes. By its definition, therefore, a "world parliament" or authoritative world parliamentary assembly in the any genuine meaning of the term as such cannot be organized on a do-it-yourself basis by NGO's or civil society without integration into the governmental process of legal governance, and without which it would lack democratic legitimacy and authority, not to mention governmental resources. However, it is possible to draw upon national parliaments because these are regularly elected by the populace.

Links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parliament

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_social_forum

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nations_Parliamentary_Assembly

Design of a UNPA

3.1. How many members will each country have?

The Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (CUNPA) recommends that the determination of the number of delegates per country in the UNPA should be left to the political negotiations of the governments during the preparatory process. The basis of the negotiations should be a commitment to a graduated division oriented primarily according to population size but including other modulating factors, corresponding, in principle, to existing parliamentary assemblies. Besides purely population size, other criteria could play a role, such as the equality principle (one member one vote) or the financial contributions to the UN system. However, the calculation should and can be made in such a way that huge countries, such as China or India, are not overrepresented or overdominant and small countries have guarantees of some minimal weight and influence. A graduation constitutes a perfect means for achieving this and, practically speaking, reflects the modern usage in existing parliaments and international institutions which are not 100% proportional as to population alone but balance other factors. Furthermore, CUNPPA recommends an upper limit for the total number of delegates between 700 and 900.

3.2. If such a planetary assembly would be popularly elected, a third of the seats would go to China and India. What voice would people from smaller countries have?

Not necessarily. A third of the seats would only go to China and India if such an assembly would only take the population size into account and if it would be directly mirrored in the distribution of seats. However, the composition of none of the existing regional parliamentary assemblies purely mirrors the population size of their member states. The Committee for United Nations Parliamentary Assembly also does not recommend such a pure, one-factor only approach. As in the case of the voting power of Germany, the largest nation in population within the European Union, most likely a commonly negotiated framework necessary to gain acceptance by all the parties would lead to significant dilution of the "one-man-one-vote" principal, however legitimate that may or may not be, and would be modified to include a larger proportionate representation of smaller nations to provide at least some minimum national voice and influence, plus reflecting the necessary compromise of abstract principles with the practical and power-based considerations of "Realpolitik." Existing regional assemblies all work with a graduation of seats and/or votes which workably allows avoidance of an over or under representation of member states. Moreover, besides population size, other criteria, such as the equality principle (one member, one vote) or an equity in representation derived from the greater financial contributions to the UN system and others, are being discussed as additional criteria to calculate the distribution of seats and/or votes. See also question 3.1. and para. 3943 of the strategy paper.

3.3. How can one have free elections for the UNPA in countries that do not allow free elections for their citizens at all?

In undemocratic countries which do not allow for free, equal and secret elections at all, realistically speaking, it will not be possible to have pure democratically legitimate delegates for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly in the short term. Pseudo-parliamentarians coming from such undemocratic states actually would probably be subject to the clandestine control and instructions of their home government or monopoly party. CUNPPA has dealt with this problem in its strategy paper, para. 32. There are legitimate objections that the participation of such "pseudo-parliamentarians" could undermine the democratic legitimacy and moral authority of the assembly altogether. This opinion contradicts the fact that the affected states are already represented in the United Nations with equal rights according to international law. In view of this, excluding these states from a participation in a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations could hardly be explained.

Furthermore, to draw the line between the criteria for an inclusion and those against would hardly be possible in a convincing way. An exclusive membership excluding large numbers of states would undermine the global perspective and would make its effectiveness and legitimacy implausible. Having said this, it certainly is important that the clear majority of the membership is democratically legitimate, and that processes are instituted for further evolution to make it progressively more and more so. Since the majority of the UN Member States as a result of favourable historical evolution in recent decades are to a greater extent democratic than ever before, this prospect would not be infeasible.

3.4. Are there other models than that recommended by the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly?

In a question as complex as the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, it would be pretty extraordinary if there were not many different opinions on various aspects and possible models. These are the most important differences between the recommendations of CUNPPA and other proposals:

CUNPPA recommendation Other proposals

Mode of establishment

In a first step subsidiary body to Standalone international treaty by likeminded states

General Assembly according to

Art. 22 UN Charter or transformation of InterParliamentary

Union and subsequent cooperation agreement between UN and IPU

Participation

Open to all

UN Member

States

Open

Only to democracies

Attached to

United Nations, later including financial institutions

No attachment

Election

At first step indirect election through national parliaments, later direct election optional or phased in.

Direct election or Indirect

Furthermore, there are initiatives promoting a self-organized People's Assembly. For this see question 2.5. "Couldn't civil society organize its own world parliament? Why draw upon national parliaments?"

3.5. How can the ordinary citizen participate in the work of a UNPA?

One of the reasons to establish a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA) is to provide for a closer link between the United Nations and its affairs and the citizens in the UN member states. Citizens would be able to contact their own delegate to the UNPA responsible for their constituency and in this way would have a direct contact person to raise issues which may affect them and are of international concern or directly linked to the UN or its affiliated organizations. Delegates would be able to provide information and to take up issues for further consideration in the UNPA.

3.6. Why should the maximum number of delegates range between 700 and 900?

The Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations should not exceed a certain number of delegates in order that its efficiency and functionality is maintained. This means that if the Assembly is too big the members will most probably be unable to effectively communicate, interact, bargain, reach effective understandings and compromises, develop interpersonal relationships, understandings and bonds of trust, and develop leadership and the purposive collective consensus and will necessary to make their work effective. The Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly thus estimates that the upper limit for this is at about 900 delegates. These seats then would be distributed to the participating states. An example for this procedure is the European Parliament. Representing about 450 million citizens of the European Union, it has a maximum number of MEPs fixed at 750, with a minimum threshold of five per member state and no member state being allocated more than 99 seats.

Rights and functions

4.1. What would a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly do?—What would the main functions of a UNPA be?

The populations and civil societies of the UN member states have to be better and more directly included into the activities and decision making processes of the United Nations and its international organizations. This can be achieved by setting up a parliamentary assembly. Possible functions a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly could be vested with have been named in CUNPPA's strategy paper (para. 5). The functions of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly would minimally include:

Submission of its own opinions/resolutions to the General Assembly, ECOSOC, the Secretary General, the Security Council, and to the organs and other institutions of the UN system;

Consultation with the General Assembly, ECOSOC and by organs of other institutions of the UN system with regard to important questions;

The right to address questions to the Secretary General, the Presidents of the General Assembly, of ECOSOC and of the Security Council as well as to the heads of other institutions of the UN system and demand appropriate answers;

Rights of information and participation in relation to the activities of the institutions of the UN system including the still independent Economic and Financial Institutions;

Readings of draft resolutions of the General Assembly, of ECOSOC and perhaps the Security Council with the right to submit suggestions for amendments;

The right to submit to the General Assembly and to ECOSOC draft resolutions for further negotiation and adoption;

Co-decision with regard to the adoption of the UN budget;

Co-decision with regard to the election of the UN Secretary General;

The right to be integrated into all treaty negotiations and conventions which are conducted under the auspices of the United Nations to establish or modify international institutions or for other purposes;

The right also to be integrated into multilateral treaty negotiations or conventions at the international level not under the auspices of the UN;

The right to submit, in accordance with Article 65 of its Statute, legal questions to the International Court of Justice.

Furthermore, a UNPA must have the right to establish inquiry committees which may summon functionaries of the UN institutions and conduct investigations with full powers to fulfill their task. In line with a comprehensive reform of the United Nations in the future, the UNPA could be transformed into a UN main body and become part of a global legislature.

4.2. Would delegations of the UNPA have the right to participate in international governmental conferences?

Wide parts of the populations of the various nations and of the population of humanity on earth globally do not feel sufficiently represented by their government in International institutions and negotiation processes. An indication of this are the continuing protests of civil society alongside international government conferences such as the WTO, COP, G8 or G20, which they feel are not only democratically illegitimate but in increasing ascendency in controlling the conditions of their daily lives. The Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly therefore strongly recommends that the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly should have the right to fully participate in multilateral treaty negotiations processes and to this end should have the right to send official representatives or delegations and make proposals. For instance a delegation from a UNPA would be seated at such conferences as the Copenhagen/Durban Climate Change Conference or at plenary meetings of the WTO.

4.3. Can you give some examples where parliamentary control of international action would have been crucial?

A government-independent Parliamentary body a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly could have assumed a role to scrutinize international action, or inaction, in the case of the genocide in Rwanda 1994, to name an important example. While there in fact has been a subsequent inquiry commissioned by the UN Secretary General on the failings of the international community in face of the genocide, a UNPA would have been able to address the inadequate response by the United Nations during the events themselves. Since a UNPA would include delegates of oppositional parties from the parliaments of the UN member states, it would offer them an international platform to voice concerns which governments would not address. Alerting the world community of large scale human rights abuses therefore is an area where a UNPA could play an important political role.

Another area where a UNPA could assert oversight functions and conduct important analysis is with regard to the UN's sanctions regime. The United Nations Oil for Food programme, for example, was only thoroughly scrutinized by an international inquiry committee set up for this purpose by the UN Secretary General after the US General Accounting Office discovered severe irregularities in its operations. This underlines the need that there be a permanent independent body which is able to provide continuous oversight and public feedback in respect of the UN's programmes. A UNPA would be well suited for this purpose. In contrast to inquiries by national authorities or by ad hoc bodies set up by the UN Secretary-General, a UNPA inquiry committee would be representing an international viewpoint and would be democratically legitimate and speak with authority through its parliamentary membership.

Links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_for_food

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwandan_Genocide

4.4. What is the ultimate aim of establishing a UNPA?

The creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly will be an ongoing long term process which will continue even after it is once established as consultative body in the first phase. Connected with globalization, this process will be closely interlinked with the continuing evolvement of an ever closer world community and a growing need for effective global governance. A UNPA is the embryonic starting point for the creation of a world parliament in the longterm future in order to guarantee the involvement of the citizens in international affairs as closely as possible and to support a sense of the global common good and democratic legitimacy and oversight as globalization requires more and more powers to be transferred to international bodies to deal with the ever more internationalized problems of a globalized world. See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nations_Parliamentary_Assembly

Campaign for a UNPA

5.1. What can I do to support the campaign?

As an individual citizen you can do one or more of the following:

Sign the international appeal for the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly published as ofApril 2007;

Write an email to your friends and colleagues and invite them to sign the appeal as well;

Subscribe to our newsletter in order to be up to date on current developments;

Write politely to the member of parliament of your constituency and ask him/her to support the proposal to establish a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Should you get an answer, share it with us!

Help us with a donation to the Committee for a UNPA. Any amount counts!

Become supporting member of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly;

Volunteer your professional skills. The campaign is largely based on volunteer collaboration. We need translators, web programmers, graphic designers, lobby assistants, research assistants and volunteers with other skills which are necessary to build an international campaign of this kind;

If you are member of a civil society organization or a political party, campaign for its support of the establishment of a UNPA;

Write a carefully drafted letter to the editor of your newspaper if an article invites a comment touching upon the UNPA proposal. Maybe it will be published!

5.2. Which governments support the UNPA proposal?

On 7 July 2009 Pope Benedict XVI published his first social encyclical called "Caritas in Veritate," charity in truth. In this writing, the Pope contemplated the nature and consequences of globalization, the global economic crisis and the world order. Benedict XVI stressed the importance of a reform of the United Nations Organization and of international economic and financial institutions. "There is urgent need of a true world political authority," the Pope proclaimed. According to a study published today by the Committee for a Democratic U.N. (KDUN) in Germany, "it is possible to derive from catholic social doctrine the creation of a democratic world legislative which, in particular, has the task to exercise oversight over the executive world authority."

"The establishment of an effective political world authority has been continuously advocated by the Holy See since Pope Pius XII in the 1950s and was now again reiterated by Benedict XVI.

The Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly is trying to establish a dialogue with open-minded governments on the proposal to establish a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Despite widespread support at many levels, as yet, no government officially sponsors the approach officially in diplomatic negotiations. Historically, a similar proposal was put forward by one of the first democratic governments of Germany in 1919, after the First World War. Its draft for the statutes of the League of Nations included a "world parliament" elected by the parliaments of the member states. Naturally, as defeated country at that time, Germany's position had no effectiveness at that time.

5.3. Which parliaments support the UNPA proposal?

In 1993 the European Parliament has been the first directly elected parliament to endorse the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly in an official resolution adopted by its plenary. It has reiterated its position in resolutions from 2003 and 2005 and up to the present. In January 2006 the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe has also adopted a resolution containing such support. As at October 2006, no similar resolutions have been adopted on national level. However, a majority of the members of the National Council of Switzerland have endorsed the UNPA proposal in an open letter addressed to then UN Secretary General Kofi Annan in February 2005. In 1993 the Standing Committee on External Affairs and International Trade of the House of Commons of the Canadian Parliament did support the UNPA proposal. Because of subsequent elections, the plenary never dealt with the issue, however. It is the goal of the Committee for a Democratic UN's campaign to build more parliamentary support for the proposal. These and other relevant resolutions and documents are available on the websites of various wholly independent, unrelated and distinct organizations sharing parallel goals to this Committee such as:

http://en.unpacampaign.org/index.php http://www.unokomitee

http://www.kdun.org www.unpacampaign.org de/en/documents/projects/unpa.php

5.4. Who else from NGO's, Civil Society, Academia and individually is supporting the idea?

The Campaign's Appeal for the Establishment of a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations is supported by thousands individuals from 137 countries and 217 non-governmental organizations from 57 countries, among them 17 international networks.

Notable supporters include former United Nations Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali, former Czech President Vaclav Havel and Nobel Prize winners Günter

Grass. The Pope's endorsement of the general concept in his first social encyclical called "Caritas in Veritate", Charity in Truth has been noted above.

The two Campaign's statements together are as of 2010 supported by 699 members of parliament from 94 countries and 155 former parliamentarians from 40 countries. The sitting MPs represent estimated 111.8 million people from their constituencies.

The individual supporters include hundreds of distinguished personalities, in particular 226 professors from 50 countries, 6 Nobel laureates, 11 Right Livelihood laureates, 8 former foreign ministers, 3 former prime ministers and people from all walks of life.

Besides parliamentary support, several organizations and conferences have supported the proposal of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. To name the most important: The

Socialist International, the Liberal International, the World Federalist Movement Institute for Global Policy and the United Nations Millennium Forum 2000. Furthermore, the idea of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly is being supported by hundreds of distinguished individuals from more than 70 countries, among them parliamentarians, leading scholars, former government members, civil society leaders, human rights activists, authors, Nobel laureates and others. See the list of initial supporters of the international appeal for a Parliamentary Assembly at the UN and the continuous updates to be published on the sister websites http://en.unpacampaign.org/index.php and . http://www.kdun.org/en/index.php .

5.5 What Testimonials and Statements of Support has the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly received from Parliaments, NGO's and notable individuals?

Testimonials and statements of support include the following, amoung thousands of others:

"The European Parliament calls for the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA) within the UN system, which would increase the democratic profile and internal democratic process of the organization and allow world civil society to be directly associated in the decision-making process"

European Parliament, June 2005

Former United Nations Secretary-General Boutros Butros-Ghali Calls for Establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (16 May 2007)

"States and societies everywhere in the world increasingly confront forces far beyond the control of any one state or even group of states. Some of these forces are irresistible, such as the globalization of economic activity and communications. In the process, problems which can only be solved effectively at the global level, are multiplying and requirements of political governance are extending beyond state borders accordingly. Increasing decision-making at the global level is inevitable. In this process, however, democracy within the state will diminish in importance if the process of democratization does not move forward at the international level. Therefore, we need to promote the democratization of globalization, before globalization destroys the foundations of national and international democracy. The establishment of a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations has become an indispensable step to achieve democratic control of globalization. Complementary to international democracy among states, which no less has to be developed, it would foster global democracy beyond states, giving the citizens a genuine voice in world affairs. As the Campaign's appeal rightly implies, a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly could also become a catalyst for a comprehensive reform of the international system. In particular, I would like to point out, it should become a force to provide democratic oversight over the World Bank, the IMF and the WTO. We cannot just dream, or wait for someone else to bring our dream about. We must act now. In this sense, I strongly encourage you in your struggle for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Once established, this new body will be a decisive contribution to strengthen democracy at all levels."

"...the Latin-American Parliament declares ... its support to efforts towards the creation and establishment of a Parliamentary Assembly of the United Nations Organization (UNO) with the purpose of strengthening the effectiveness, transparency, representativeness, plurality and legitimacy of the international system"

24th Ordinary Assembly of the Latin-American Parliament, Panamá, December 2008

On 7 July 2009 Pope Benedict XVI published his first social encyclical called "Caritas in Veritate", charity in truth. In this writing, the Pope contemplated the nature and consequences of globalization, the global economic crisis and the world order. Benedict XVI stressed the importance of a reform of the United Nations Organization and of international economic and financial institutions. "There is urgent need of a true world political authority," the Pope proclaimed. According to a study published today by the Committee for a Democratic U.N. (KDUN) in Germany, "it is possible to derive from this Catholic social doctrine the creation of a democratic world legislative which, in particular, has the task to exercise oversight over the executive world authority." The establishment of an effective political world authority has been continuously advocated by the Holy See since Pope Pius XII in the 1950s and was now again reiterated by Benedict XVI.

Pope Benedict XVI, in his first social encyclical called "Caritas in Veritate", Charity in Truth

"The method of representation at the UN should be considerably modified. The present method of selection by government appointment does not leave any real freedom to the appointee. Furthermore, selection by governments cannot give the peoples of the world the feeling of being fairly and proportionately represented. The moral authority of the UN would be considerable enhanced if the delegates were elected directly by the people. Were they responsible to an electorate, they would have much more freedom to follow their consciences"

Open letter of Albert Einstein to the UN General Assembly, October 1947

Former WTO Director-General Mike Moore Endorses Creation of a UN Parliamentary Assembly

In a comment published today, the former Director General of the World Trade Organization (WTO) and former Prime Minister of New Zealand, Mike Moore, has spoken out for the creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA). "The global architecture is in need of refurbishing. It is necessary to build democratic principles into global governance," said Moore who was also Member of Parliament for the New Zealand Labour Party for over 20 years.

"A parliament at the U.N. would symbolize the notion of humanity as a community of world citizens."

Günter Grass, Nobel Prize Laureate in Literature (1999)

"The United Nations would probably have to rest on two pillars: one constituted by an assembly of equal executive representatives of individual countries, resembling the present plenary, and the other consisting of a group elected directly by the globe's population in which the number of delegates representing individual nations would, thus, roughly correspond to the size of the nations."

Václav Havel President of the Czech Republic (1993-2003) at the Millennium Summit of the United Nations, New York, September 2000

"The call for a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations has my support"

Emma Thompson, Actress, Academy Award recipient

"I support the call for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, and believe that a more democratic United Nations as envisaged by this campaign will strengthen the accountability and legitimacy of the UN"

Ken Livingstone, 2000-2008 Mayor of London

"A UN Parliament would be an epiphany. By contrast to the UN General Assembly which is driven by the narrow interest of government representatives only, a UN Parliament would truly reflect the world's public opinion."

Akbar Alami, Member of the Islamic Consultative Assembly

PACE: Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) Calls for UN Parliamentary Assembly

In a resolution on the reform of the United Nations which was adopted today(1 Oct 2009), the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) has called for "the incorporation of a democratic element in the United Nations system." While the assembly reiterates its "unabated support" to the UN and multilateralism, it also stresses that "the United Nations is in urgent need of a far-reaching reform in order to make it more transparent, accountable and capable of facing the global challenges of today's world." The resolution states that the assembly regrets that although numerous reform proposals have been advanced over the last years in the UN none of them aimed at "improving the democratic character of the United Nations." This could be done, according to PACE, through "the introduction of a parliamentary element in the structure of the UN General Assembly."

"A long-term Green goal is overcoming the international democracy deficit. This includes greater democratization of the UN and other international institutions. Among these reforms, Greens support the creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly (UNPA) as a parliamentary body within the UN system."

Global Greens Second Congress, São Paulo, May 2008

"The Pan-African Parliament ... notes that in a first preliminary step the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly could be composed of national parliamentarians, but that eventually it should be directly elected by universal adult suffrage in the UN member states. ... Stresses that a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly eventually should have participation and oversight rights, in particular, to send fully participating parliamentary delegations or representatives to international governmental fore and negotiations and to establish inquiry committees to assess matters related to the actions of the United Nations, its personnel and its special programmes"

Pan-African Parliament, October 2007

"The World Federation of United Nations Associations supports the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly as a consultative body within the United Nations system as a voice of the citizens and calls upon the governments of the United Nations member states, parliamentarians and civil society representatives to jointly examine possible steps and options to create a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly"

38th Plenary Assembly of the World Federation of United Nations Associations, Buenos Aires, November 2006

"Whilst international organizations and negotiations will remain essentially the domain of intergovernmental co-operation, the democratic accountability of existing organizations should also be improved through the increased participation of national parliaments in global economic management. This calls for increasing the role of national parliaments in monitoring and mandating the work of their governments in international forums as well as for strengthening existing and creating new forums for inter-parliamentary co-operation in different international organizations."

Report from the Helsinki Process on Globalization and Democracy, co-chaired by Foreign Ministers Jakaya M. Kikwete from Tanzania and Erkki Tuomioja from Finland, August 2005

"In the belief that the principles of separation of powers and democracy should be made beneficial on the international level ... the Liberal International calls on the member states of the United Nations to enter into deliberations on the establishment of a Parliamentary Assembly at the United Nations."

53rd Congress of the Liberal International, Sofia, May 2005

"A Parliamentary Assembly at the UN would encompass a number of advantages. Representation of the population and participation of civil society within the organization would promote the faith of citizens in the UN and increase its acceptance and legitimation. ... peoples and minorities could introduce their concerns more efficiently within a Parliamentary Assembly at the UN, ultimately promoting the preservation of global diversity."

Open letter of a majority of 101 members of the Swiss National Council to then UN-Secretary General Kofi Annan, February 2005

"Parliamentary oversight of the multilateral system at the global level should be progressively expanded. We propose the creation of a Parliamentary Group concerned with the coherence and consistency between global economic, social and environmental policies, which should develop an integrated oversight of major international organizations."

World Commission on the Social Dimension of Globalization established by the International Labour Organization, April 2004

"Better-structured democratic control and accountability is needed if the world's democratic deficit is to be addressed seriously. At some point, contemplation of a UN Parliamentary Assembly will be needed. ... Such an Assembly should be more than just another UN institution. It would have to become a building block of a new, democratically legitimate, world order"

22nd Congress of the Socialist International, São Paulo, October 2003

"The Forum urges the United Nations to consider the creation of a UN parliamentary body related to the UN General Assembly. One proposal that should be considered is the creation of a consultative Parliamentary Assembly"

Millennium Forum of Civil Society, United Nations, May 2000

It has also been suggested that [an assembly of parliamentarians, consisting of representatives elected by existing national legislatures] could function as a constituent assembly for the development of a directly elected assembly of people. We encourage further debate about these proposals. When the time comes, we believe that starting with an assembly of parliamentarians as a constituent assembly for a more popular body is the right approach. But care would need to be taken to ensure that the assembly of parliamentarians is the starting point of a journey and does not become the terminal station."

Report of the Commission on Global Governance, co-chaired by Swedish Prime Minister Ingvar Carlsson and former Foreign Minister of Guyana, Shridath Ramphal, 1995

"The feasibility of a parliamentary chamber or assembly complementing the present intergovernmental structure should be seriously explored, as it might enhance the political legitimacy of the organisations and strengthen accountability of organisations and governments"

High-Level Expert Group of the InterAction Council, chaired by Andries van Agt, former Prime Minister of the Netherlands, May 1994

"[The European Parliament] wishes consideration to be given to the possibility of setting up within the UN a parliamentary consultative assembly to enable the elected representatives of peoples to participate more fully in the work of UN bodies"

European Parliament, February 1994

"A World Parliamentary Assembly would enable national parliaments to become better acquainted with the work of the United Nations ... The establishment of a second body in which the major nations would have an added weight would bring the United Nations closer to the one man, one vote ideal"

Twentieth Report of the Commission to Study the Organization of Peace, New York, November 1969

"There should be a study of a house directly elected by the people of the world to whom the nations are accountable"

Ernest Bevin, British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs (1945-1951), Speech in the House of Commons, November 1945

An international Parliament elected by the Peoples should replace the assembly of delegates proposed in the Paris text [of the Statutes of the League of Nations]. This Parliament should have full prerogatives and legislative powers"

International Conference of League of Nations Societies, Berne, March 1919

"I support the efforts of the Committee to establish a parliament at the UN because with this the world community would clearly commit itself to common democratic action." Sigmar Gabriel, Federal Minister for the Environment, Germany

5.6. What are the views inside the Inter Parliamentary Union about the CUNPPA campaign?

The Inter Parliamentary Union (IPU) at the moment consists of 148 member parliaments. The views held within the IPU therefore are not uniform. Consciousness of a legitimacy deficit of the UN and of a role of the IPU in overcoming this deficit is there. However, views diverge with regard to which way to follow. The official road map of the IPU is becoming and maintaining the "parliamentary dimension of the UN". This amounts to a representation of national parliaments at the international level, rather than representing the people at the UN and democratically controlling the UN, i. e. being a watchdog of UN affairs and speaking for those represented within "we, the peoples". However, there are also those members and individual parliamentarians who perceive the IPU as being capable and being predestined for being more a real UN Parliament, which includes democratic decision making and control, building on the large institutional knowledge which the IPU has acquired within more than 115 years. Yet, up to now, these voices are still in the minority within the IPU.

See also question 1.9. "Doesn't the Inter Parliamentary Union already fulfill the function of a

UNPA?"

5.7. What if the United States or another veto power does not support the proposal?

First of all, in order to set up a UNPA, support of the veto powers on the UN Security Council legally is not necessary. If a UNPA is established as a subsidiary organ of the General Assembly, its majority vote alone is sufficient (every state has one vote and no veto power). If a UNPA would come into existence through a rapprochement of the Inter Parliamentary Union (IPU) to the UN, this could be done through a more detailed cooperation agreement which would contain genuine parliamentary rights and duties for the IPU. In this case, the UN organ to which the UNPA should be linked, in this case the General Assembly, decides about the treaty either by Majority vote or, if it is judged to be an "important question" in accordance with Art. 18 (2) of the UN Charter, by a two thirds majority of the members present and voting. In the IPU itself, which naturally also would have to decide about such an agreement, the US is not a member anymore. And even if it were, the decision making organ of the IPU, the Governing Council, also decides by majority vote. Thus, US support, or the support of any Security Council veto-power legally is not necessary to set up a UNPA and it is important to realize that the establishment of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly is not subject to any veto.

Nevertheless, political support of the veto powers would of course be highly desirable. The United States, in particular, throughout the last years under conservative administrations repeatedly criticized the UN for not being efficient, effective, and of being corrupt. The US even conducted its own investigations at Congressional and federal level into the corruption accusations towards the UN Oil for Food Programme, for example. This gap in the UN legal system is exactly what the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly wants to fill: Since the UN members and the UN administration cannot control themselves effectively, we need an institution which is independent and is equipped with sufficient investigation and control powers and rights. This would be the main task of a UNPA. A UN Parliament should be able to set up inquiry committees, which can question UN officials and have access to documents. It would be able to rectify possible wrongdoings within a huge institution such as the UN. Furthermore, the US has stated its desire to increase democracy in the world, which necessarily also includes democracy within international organizations and institutions.

For a fuller discussion see:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nations_Parliamentary_Assembly.

# APPENDIX 2:

### Index of Principal Characters

Major Characters:

Robert Sartorius, Professor and principal leader and theorist for the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, divorced father of Jack Sartorius who overcomes a life crisis of faith and attempted suicide to marry Eva Strong and push the Parliamentary Assembly campaign towards a successful conclusion, though Moses-like dying before its final implementation. Supporter of the Occupy Wall Street movement. His travels in Book One echo those of the legendary Odysseus of the Odyssey, including the sea adventures of the Neptune's Fury chapter, and the famous katabasis, or descent into Hell in the Volcano's Underworld and Teatro Magico chapters; his later cosmic questing and travels in Book Two: Spiritus Mundi The Romance, including a voyage to the Great Central Sea at the center of the earth and discovery of the Magister Ludi of the Crystal Bead Game, the encounter with the mythical Mothers on the Island of Omphalos, and his transiting of the Cosmic Wormhole to the Council of the Immortals at the Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way galaxy to obtain the Silmaril Crystal and plead for the rescue of the human race from extinction, echo those of Dante in the Divine Comedy, the Isra and Mi'ra of the Kitab al-Miraj and of Goethe's Faust; his quest for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly parallels the quest for the Simurgh in The Parliament of the Birds, by Farid ud-Din Attar.

Eva Strong, single mother and part-time employee of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly in London and Occupy Wall Street supporter, she first has an unsuccessful sexual affair with Andreas Sarkozy and then falls in love with and marries Robert Sartorius, later accompanying him in his campaign efforts and later questing adventures. She lives with her daughter Sarah and cousin Vanessa and Vanessa's son Robby. Echoes Penelope in the Odyssey. In Book Two she accompanies her beloved Robert on the cosmic quest for the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril on which the fate of the human race depends.

Andreas Sarkozy, Executive Director of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary "Assembly and the Global Appeal campaign leader and organizer, is a freedom loving and sexually adventurous ex-South African soldier turned idealistic international lawyer who has a temporary sexual affair with Eva Strong while hard at work for the Parliamentary Assembly campaign. He is also an Occupy Wall Street movement supporter. In Book II he becomes one of the band of Argonauts accompanying Sartorius to the Crystal Bead Game and on the Quest to the Island of Omphalos and through the wormhole to the Council of the Immortals at the Center of the Milky Way Galaxy to save the world by recovering the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril. After Sartorius' death he takes command of the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and with President Barret Osama and the new United Nations Secretary-General Clinton is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for the establishment of the Parliamentary Assembly.

Günter Gross, German winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, is Sartorius' longtime friend with whom he collaborates in both his support for the Parliamentary Assembly campaign and in researching and writing a book on the rise of World Literature, building on Goethe's idea of "Weltliteratur."

Osiris, erratic sex and drug crazed globally popular rock singer superstar who heads up the celebrities supporting the "People Power" Global Appeal campaign and telethon for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, and is also an Occupy Wall Street supporter. He later becomes the focus of a pulp media messianic religious cult, taking on the personal of the new Messiah until his assassination.

Isis, rock singing superstar and estranged wife of Osiris and member of their rock group, The Angels of Thoth. While estranged from Osiris because of his infidelities she strikes up a sexual love affair with Jack Sartorius, Robert Sartorius' son. She works in support of the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and becomes involved in a Sufi cult at a Sufi Meditation Centre in London. In Book Two she has a religious conversion following the nuclear detonation in Jerusalem and the killing of Osiris and dedicates her life to spirituality as "Mother Isis."

Jack Sartorius, estranged son of Robert Sartorius who grows up far from his father in the custody of his recently deceased mother following his parents' contested divorce. He becomes a CIA agent assigned to counter-terrorism duties under the cover name of Jack McKinsey, and is assigned to work with the campaign and investigate its infiltration by terrorist cells. As a cover for his CIA activities he is employed as a top executive of Jung Communications, an international Public Relations, Media and Government Relations agency. Jack echoes the character Telemachus in the Odyssey, a son in search of his father. In Book Two Jack takes a central role as organizer of the Jerusalem telethon for the UNPA and as a CIA agent where he encounters Khlorindah and Tancredi. He is captured with his father by the terrorists led by Mustafa and taken captive to Iran, where while escaping, he becomes one of the Argonauts on a cosmic quest to save humanity from destruction by retrieving the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril from the Council of the Immortals.

Etienne Dearlove, a British MI6 agent under cover as a Reuters/BBC journalist who organizes the "Nightingale" espionage project in Beijing which uses a planted computer Ghost Program to transmit records of secret Chinese Politburo meetings to British intelligence. Though having a wife and child in London, he is the lover of Yoriko Oe and in pursuit of his espionage ends involves her in a ménage-a-trois with Zhou Yuchun, office manager to Chinese Politburo member Minister Luo Chunwang. In Book Two, Etienne experiences the geopolitical cataclysm involving nuclear terrorism in Jerusalem and a threatened Russian/Chinese/Iranian attack on the Middle-Eastern oil reserves, which leads to an incipient WWIII and the expansion of NATO to include Russia and Japan. At the end of the novel he becomes the new "C," or head of MI6 British Intelligence.

Yoriko Oe, is the Japanese East Asia coordinator for the Committee and daughter of a high executive of Toschiba, and the granddaughter of a WWII Japanese war criminal. To escape her parents insistence on a traditional Japanese marriage she moves to Beijing in pursuit of her lover Etienne Dearlove and becomes involved in a bi-sexual ménage-a-trois with Etienne Dearlove and Zhou Yuchun. She also has a brief sexual fling with Andreas Sarkozy. At times she seems to have a clairvoyant power to sense future events and, Cassandra-like warn others of danger, has visions, and also is an accomplished multimedia and graphic artist.

Zhou Yuchun, is the office manager for Chinese Politburo member Minister Luo Chunwang. In her study abroad in Tokyo she becomes primarily lesbian, though bisexual, which she conceals from her bosses. She falls in love with Yoriko Oe and has a lesbian cum ménage-a-trois affair with her and Etienne. It is through her that Etienne Dearlove as a British MI6 agent is able to install an espionage Ghost Program on her computers to transmit the records of the Chinese Politburo to British intelligence. At the end of Book Two, imbued with the Japanese bushido culture from her overseas studies, she commits ritual suicide on the collapse of her world.

Mohammad Ala Rushdie, is an Egyptian former Cambridge student who with Mustafa heads the Mid-East section of the Parliamentary Assembly Committee. He becomes a mystic, novice and dervish in a Sufi order operating a Meditation Centre in London, all while under the surveillance of British MI5 as a falsely suspected terrorist. In Book II he is taken hostage with Sartorius in Jerusalem and held as a human shield in Iran's underground nuclear processing facilities outside Qom and then goes on to participate in the epic Quest for the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril, in the Crystal Bead Game to save humanity. He is also a writer and while in captivity is invited to read his story "The Parable of the Supreme Leader and the Three Messiahs" to Iran's Supreme Leader, which contributes to the Supreme Leader's change of heart and abandonment of the Triple Axis Conspiracy with Russia and China to seize the Middle-Eastern oil deposits in Saudi Arabia. At the end of Book Two following the nuclear catastrophe in Jerusalem and his Sufi calling, he joins Mother Isis and the Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance in their quest for nurturing a global spiritual rebirth.

Mustafa bin Salaman al Khalifa, is the son of a wealthy Bahraini family and former fellow student of Mohammad at Cambridge. While ostensibly managing his family's investments in London and serving as the co-chief of the Parliamentary Assembly Campaign Committee, Mustafa is in reality an agent of the Iranian Quds Force of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards and the prime operative in executing the secret conspiracy of the reactionary factions of China, Russia and Iran to join forces in a new Axis to mount a surprise attack on the Middle-East oil reserves in Saudi Arabia, Iraq and the Gulf. He is the primary organizer of the conspiracy to conceal an atomic bomb in a Chinese Terracotta Warrior which is detonated in Jerusalem along with the taking of celebrity hostages which provides the cover for a joint Chinese/Russian/Iranian attempt to seize the oil fields of the Middle East, precipitating an impending WWIII. At the end of Book II it is revealed that Mustafa has been impersonated by a time-travelling fugitive from justice in the 23rd Century who flees into the past after a failed attempt to overthrow the democratic world government of the Republic of the United States of Earth, founded on the successful beginnings of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Julian Jung, founder of international Public Relations, media, advertising and government relations agency Jung Communications, is in charge of media strategy for the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and manages the careers and brand images for Osiris and Isis. He is a world renown "Spinmaster" and media manipulator who has even managed the public relations and political media campaigns of the British Prime Minister. He is married to the daughter of media supermagnate Baron Rupert Maddox.

Teddy Zhou (or Zhou Tieya), is Sartorius' fellow professor and best friend at Peking University in Beijing who saves his life by rushing him to hospital after his suicide attempt and subsequently is paid back when Sartorius in turn saves his life during their Scuba diving adventures in the Maldives. Like Sartorius, Teddy Zhou comes from a seafaring family and like Sartorius's ancestor Admiral Sir George Rose Sartorius, one of his ancestors was shipwrecked in the Maldives in the time of Zheng He's Treasure Fleet. Diving on both wrecks is their common goal in vacationing together in the Maldives.

Admiral Sir George Rose Sartorius, is Sartorius' ancestor who fought in the British Navy under Lord Nelson at Trafalgar and later suffered a shipwreck in the Maldives, which wreck Sartorius and his friend Teddy Zhou seek to visit and dive upon on their Scuba diving holiday en route to taking up residence in London. Sartorius discovers the Admiral's journal and reads of his adventures following the shipwreck, including accounts of his visit to the island of the Sorceress Queen Lilith, and his captivity on the island of the Sultan of the Sea of Stories, where he also crosses paths with Zheng He and Ibn Batuta, famous venturers from the East.

Orlando Tasso, (aka Orlando Tancredi) in Book II is an agent of the Italian intelligence service the AISE, (Italy's Agenzia Informazionie Sicurezza Estema or "Italian MI6") and former Carabinieri on loan to the NATO Joint Anti-Terror Team (JATT) and British MI6 in London and in Jerusalem. Under cover as the Italian rock singer Tancredi he falls hopelessly and recklessly in love with Khlorindah, causing conflict and professional ineffectiveness between himself and Jack. Tasso echoes the motifs of Gerusalemme liberata and Orlando Furioso.

Khlorinda Sofronia Darwah, in Book II is a beautiful Palestinian Rai music Chaba singer performing in nightclubs in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv with whom Orlando falls uncontrollably in love and who also infatuates Jack, leading the two into conflict; She proves to be a participant in the principal conspiracy organized through Mustafa to set off a nuclear device in Jerusalem and take former Presidents Carter and Clinton hostage as human shields to prevent American/Israeli attacks on Iran and enable the Triple Axis of China, Russia and Iran to seize the oilfields of Saudi Arabia, Iraq and the Middle-East, thus dominating the Eurasian and world balance of power with the West. She is invited by Jack to sing at the Jerusalem telethon in Teddy Stadium and then takes part in the hostage taking, flying with the hostage takers to Iran where she Sartorius and Mohammad meet the Supreme Leader in the underground nuclear facilities at Qom.

Pari Kasiwar, of India is the South Asia coordinator for the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. He and Sartorius have deep discussions about the emergence of World Literature and Indian Literature as Sartorius prepares his book on the subject. He and his girlfriend Jennie Zheng relate their experience of partly growing up Asian-American in the USA in Book One, and he introduces her to Indian culture, spirituality and the sexuality of the Kama Sutra. They pursue their spiritual growth and interests together with the Global Progressive Spiritual Alliance, culminating in their founding as spiritual soulmates an Ashram at the Dal Lake embracing "The New Kama Sutra of the Spirit" at the end of Book Two.

Jennie Zheng, a student of Sartorius at Peking University who works a volunteer in China for the UN Parliamentary Assembly program and is interviewed by Etienne Dearlove for his Blog Live! Column in which she relates her experience growing up as an Amerian-Born Chinese(ABC), or Asian-American caught between two cultures and in search of her own identity. Later in Book II after the nuclear detonation in Jerusalem and the trauma of war between the United States and China she turns inward spiritually, and together with her boyfriend from India, Pari Kasiwar, takes part in the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, founding an Ashram at Dal Lake and publishing her spiritual autobiography: "My Xi You Ji: A Personal Journey to the West via the East, or the New Kama Sutra of the Spirit."

Minor Characters:

Ambassador Buck Bolger, the reactionary American Ambassador to the United Nations and Robert Sartorius' former law school classmate from the University of California, Berkeley who blocks Sartorius' initiative at the UN to create a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

The Secretary General of the United Nations, an old colleague of Sartorius' with whom he worked as a low-level officer in the UN many years ago who while personally supporting the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly Project refuses to actively support the Parliamentary Assembly program because of the opposition of the United States and other powerful western countries who control his funding.

Christina Senghor, head of the African section of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Anna Maria Iglesias, head of the Latin American section of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Vanessa, the cousin of Eva Strong who shares Eva Strong's house in London where they live with Eva's daughter Sarah and Vanessa's son Robby. She is a minor London stage and screen actress separated from her American film-director husband.

Sarah, Eva Strong's daughter who has just commenced studying at a girl's boarding school in the English countryside and who is just breaking away from Eva trying to form her own identity.

Old Johnny Benn, is an older hard-Left Marxist former TUC labour union leader colleague of Eva's in the London office of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly with whom Eva has a discussion on the futility of struggling for idealistic causes seemingly doomed to failure such as Marxism and the Committee work.

Nicolas Oblomov, is a graphic artist who assists Eva in her work preparing materials for the UNPA Committee and who regresses to a state of fatalistic laziness and infantilism, withdrawing from a disappointing world into the refuge of his bed.

Professor Dr. Wolfgang Spitzer, professor of Sinology and Chinese Literature at the Free University of Berlin with whom Sartorius and Günter Gross discuss Chinese Literature and the emerging category and institution of World Literature, or Weltliteratur, in Berlin.

Myron Greenberg, a young recruit at the CIA whom Jack Sartorius trains as his own replacement in the analytical department of the counter-terrorism section.

Jack McKinsey, is Jack Sartorius' cover name and identity while working for Jung Communications while an undercover agent for the American CIA.

Admiral Orwell, the Director of National Intelligence of the USA overseeing the CIA and other intelligence operations and directly under the President.

President Barret Osama, elected as President of the United States in the course of the book is a liberal black president who succeeds the former conservative president following the World Financial Crisis. When the Triple Axis powers China, Russia and Iran threaten to seize Saudi Arabia, Iraq and the Middle-Eastern oilfields he leads NATO's resistance, and after the Chinese then attack Russian Siberia he invites Russia and Japan to join NATO which then defeat the Chinese invasion. President Osama then becomes the first man in world history to be awarded two Nobel Peace Prizes when he earns his second one for his support of the creation of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly at the close of the book.

"C" is the codename for the head of Britain's MI6 or Secret Intelligence Service headquartered at Vauxhall Cross in London.

Sir Endymion Needham, is the head of the MI6 China Desk and Controllerate and a former classmate of "C" at Cambridge. He has top secret clearance to translate and report on the secretly transmitted files and transcripts of the Chinese Politburo known by codename "Nightingale," which reveal the secret conspiracies and war aims of reactionary factions of the Axis nations China, Russia and Iran.

Minister Luo Chunwang, of the Chinese Politburo is a powerful minister overseeing the Chinese Ministry of State Security, or Chinese CIA, and a leader of the Taizi Dang, or Princeling Party a reactionary faction of the privileged sons of elite Party members. He is tall, athletic and vigorous, fluent in English having studied at the London School of Economics, yet highly nationalistic and aggressive. He is the prime force behind the formation of the China, Russia and Iran Axis and its adventure towards seizing control of the Middle-East oil reserves and supplanting the West as the dominant force in Eurasia and in the global balance of power.

Joel Barlow, is the CIA Station Chief in London, and as such sits by unique custom on the British Joint Intelligence Committee, the highest coordinating body under the Prime Minister working intimately with MI6. He is mentor and supervisor to Jack Sartorius, aka Jack McKinsey in London and a senior channel of communication between MI6 and the CIA, NSA, Director of National Intelligence and the American President in Washington, D.C. He is married to Willa Barlow, a genteel Southern American lady who takes Jack under her wing as a mother-figure when he first arrives in London.

Joel Mentes, is a senior CIA controller working under cover as a Vice-President of Jung Communications in Washington, D.C. He is Jack Sartorius' boss in the CIA Clandestine Service, or operational side, and he is also Sartorius' boss and supervisor inside Jung Communications, managing Jack's cover identity and role as Jack McKinsey

Enzo Slothrop, is the CIA's predecessor agent in London replaced after his assassination at the hands of Baroness Maddox by Jack Sartorius/McKinsey. Slothrop, like his namesake predecessor from Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, has the uncanny prescient ability to anticipate the location of imminent terrorist bombing incidents through sexual arousal and orgasm, leading to his assassination through induced priapism.

Ambassador Turttow, is the reactionary American Ambassador to the Court of St. James in London under the former conservative administration who at a party at Winfield House criticizes Jack's work with the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and praises Ambassador Buck Bolger's defeat of Robert Sartorius' initiative at the UN.

Alexander Abramovich Medvedev, is a fabulously wealthy Russian billionaire oligarch and former KGB officer. Owner of the world's largest private yacht, private jets, helicopters, football clubs and luxury cars he also a backer of the Committee for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. He entertains Sartorius, Jack, Andreas and other Committee staff on his yacht, the Omnimaw, for his lavish birthday party, and at the end of the novel is instrumental in assisting MI6 in warning Russia of China's planned invasion of Siberia and of facilitating Russia's entry into NATO to counter the invasion. He is married to Fortunata, a nouveau riche Russian woman, with whom he uproariously celebrates his birthday on his yacht, the Omnimaw.

Ernest Huxley and Peter Townsend, are a team of MI5 agents in London assigned to conduct surveillance of Mustafa and Mohammed, amoung others, suspected of involvement in Islamic terrorist operations or financing. They collaborate with Jack at MI5 Headquarters at Thames House in his counter-terror work with the CIA, including review of the files on Mohammad and Mustafa.

Candy Bryson, is a high-priced London prostitute who is often hired by Mustafa and who also regularly informs on him to Scotland Yard and MI5. She also is hired by Russian billionaire Alexander Abramovich Medvedev to entertain his guests aboard his luxury yacht for his gala birthday party, including Sartorius, Andreas and Jack.

Peter Eumaeus, of Ithaca, New York and Washington, D.C. is a homeless US Marine WWII veteran who has lost his house and savings in the World Financial Crisis whom Jack Sartorius befriends and who counsels him to reconcile with his father before it is too late. Eumaueus echoes the role of the eponymous character in the Odyssey.

Elton Brown, world famous rock singer, songwriter, and friend of Princess Diana who has a brief homosexual affair with Osiris.

Joaquim, a young teenage forced-child-soldier in Mozambique's South African backed Renamo resistance to the Marxist Frelimo party who is befriended by Andreas Sarkozy when he is assigned there as a South African special forces soldier. Together they jump into the flooding Zambezi river to escape execution by Frelimo and Andreas helps him first to enter a UN Refugee camp and later to get an EU scholarship to study in England, during which time Joaquim visits Andreas at his university in Germany.

Hennie and Ferdie, two rustic Afrikaaner pilots flying for relief agencies who help Andreas and Joaquim on the run from the Frelimo during the Mozambique civil war and fly them to the Zambian border where Joaquim enters a UN Refugee Camp and Andreas resigns his commission in the South African army and emigrates to join his mother in Germany.

Mohammad's Sufi Pir, Shayk Mehmet Nâzım Adil is Mohammad's Pir or mentor and Sufi spiritual master and head of the Sufi Order who meets and guides Mohammad at the London Sufi Meditation Centre of the Naqshbandi-Haqqani Sufi Order.

Yang Yanshen, is a Chinese dissident survivor of the Tian An Men Massacre in 1989 who is interviewed by Etienne Dearlove for Reuters/BBC after his release after serving fourteen years of a life imprisonment sentence and finding his life destroyed. Dearlove meets him at the a free rock benefit concert on behalf of the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly at Beijing's Chaoyang Park at which Osiris has a dubious religious experience under the influence of drugs.

Swami Narendranath Ramakrishna, is the Hindu holy man encountered by Pari Kasiwar and Jennie Zheng in Beijing at the Holi celebration and who gives them guidance in their spiritual searching and development.

Lee Young Chul, a former bodyguard to North Korea's Dear Leader who is brutally imprisoned and then escapes to China where he is interviewed by Etienne Dearlove for Reuters/BBC at the time Russia and China invade and occupy North Korea after chaos breaks out following the death of the Dear Leader.

Representative Ron Pall, Texas is a neo-isolationist conservative in the United States House of Representatives and US Presidential Candidate who as Chairman of the House Subcommittee on International Organizations opposes Sartorius' efforts to aid the passage of a Joint Congressional Resolution supporting creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly. Pall is a constitutional "strict constructionist" and crypto-libertarian who has earned the nickname of "Dr. No" for opposing almost everything the Federal government attempts to do, nationally and internationally, and for advocating the total withdrawal of the United States from the United Nations through the perennially introduced "American Sovereignty Restoration Act," the return to the gold standard, the abolition of the Federal Reserve, abolition of the Income Tax. He sees the United Nations as the vehicle of a clandestine conspiracy to impose socialistic world government and thereby slavery upon the American people. Sartorius' combat with Pall corresponds to that of Ulysses with the one-eyed Cyclops in the Odyssey.

Representative Keith Ellisha, one of the first Muslim US Congressmen and progressive politician and member of the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, who supports' Sartorius and Sarkozy in their efforts to have the US House of Representatives endorse a Resolution supporting the creation of a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Padraig Moynihan, former Assistant Secretary-General of the United Nations, member of the Global Spritual Progressive Alliance, recipient of the Gandhi Peace Prize and three-time nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize. He supports Sartorius in his unsuccessful efforts to have the US House of Representatives pass a Resolution in favor of creating a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, though his views are more extreme and radical than Sartorius' own.

Richard Toynbee, classmate of Etienne Dearlove who joins British MI6 with him and who later becomes a whistleblower exposing corruption and abuse of power in MI6 which leads to his dismissal. He files lawsuits and writes books critical of the SIS. Etienne Dearlove is later subjected to a lie detector test to determine if he has aided Toynbee in his dissident activities.

General Bill Winton, the J-3, or Director of Operations of the American Joint Chiefs of Staff, who briefs the British Joint Intelligence Committee on the Russian and Chinese invasion of North Korea after the Dear Leader's death.

Sir Alex Allworth, Permanent Secretary for Intelligence and Resilience who chairs the British Joint Intelligence Committee meeting in COBRA, (the Cabinet Office Building Conference-Room A), that is the British 'situation room' attended by CIA Station Chief Joel Barlow on Russia and China's invasion of North Korea.

Qwerty Quex Scrivener, Chief Polygraphist for British MI6 is Etienne Dearlove's nemesis as he tries to administer a lie detector test to prove that Etienne has aided his friend Richard Toynbee in whistleblowing and exposing corruption and abuse of power at the higher levels of MI6 management. Etienne foils Scrivener and the lie detector by clever stratagems.

Sheik Doctor Nazim Hisham, is a bogus and mercenary Sufi sect leader who enlists the presence of international celebrities such as Isis and Osiris to amass personal wealth, self-importance and power. With the aid of Isis's money he opens a Sufi Meditation Centre in London which Jack and Isis attend, and builds a personal cult around himself. He is contrasted with Mohammad's own Pir, or Sufi religious leader, who is authentic and non-exploitative.

Falik Yusuf, is the upright, puritanical and fundamentalist British-born Muslim youth from Tower Hamlets, East London who is counseled by the Sufi novice Mohammad ala Rushdie. Troubled and conflicted in Book I he rejects Mohammad's peaceful spiritual Sufi path and turns to "jihadist" Islamicism, playing a key role in the terrorist bombing of the charter flight of the American Olympic team at London airport, later confessing his acts in Book II.

The Dear Leader, of North Korea who lives a life of arbitrary power and luxury while his people starve and are brutalized, and whose death after some delay unleashes chaos in his country leading to the armed invasion of Russia and China on behalf of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization to restore order.

The Supreme Leader of Iran—or the Grand Imam, the religious and political head of the Iranian government who at first is complicit in the reactionary conspiracy to set off a nuclear device in Jerusalem and take hostage former American Presidents Carter and Clinton, Tony Blair, and the liberal President and Premiere of Russia and China as a pretext for a joint Chinese, Russian Iranian Axis invasion of the oil reserves in Saudi Arabia and Iraq. Later he calls off the conspiracy and invasion after he is visited in a dream by the Archangel Gabriel who commands him to "open the Gates of Ijtihad," meaning to throw off the dead hand of fossilized authority and open Islamic tradition to updating, respiritualization and reform in light of the ongoing living spirit of Allah.

Lilith, the Sorceress Queen, known also as "Sir She" falls in love with and takes captive Sartorius' ancestor Captain George Rose Sartorius on her island in the Indian Ocean seeking through her magic powers to share immortality with him, but who instead suffers death herself. Echoes Rider Hagard's classic. Later conflated with Baroness Lilith Maddox, herself a time-travelling fugitive twin sister of Caesarion Asmodeus Khannis, deposed tyrant of the 23rd Century.

Princess Nooaysua, of the Maldives atoll on which Captain George Rose Sartorius was shipwrecked and with whom she misadventures to the island of the Sorceress Queen Lilith, and then travels with him to the palace of the Sultan of Male' whom she is to wed. She then takes part in the endless marathon of storytelling by the guests of the Sultan of the Sea of Stories.

Billali, the elderly Arabic scholar who is tutor to Princess Nooaysua, and who accompanies her and Captain Sartorius on their voyages to the island of Sorceress Queen Lilith and to the Sultan of the Sea of Stories. He also introduces Captain Sartorius to the official records and accounts of prior shipwrecks in the islands, even going back as far as the time of the Chinese Treasure Ships of Zheng He, and shares his researches into the female Djinn Sorceress, "Sir She." Echoes Odyssey.

Captain Zhou Chenggong, ancestor of Sartorius' friend Teddy Zhou who sailed as a Chinese Treasure Fleet captain under Chinese Admiral Zheng He. He loses one of the last Chinese Treasure Ships in a shipwreck on the Maldives islands, which Sartorius and Teddy seek out in their Scuba diving holiday. He later crosses paths with Captain George Rose Sartorius in the palace of the Sultan of Maleh and of the Sea of Stories.

The Sultan of Male' or The Sultan of the Sea of Stories, is the ruler of the Maldives Islands where Captain George Rose Sartorius is shipwrecked. He is the King of the Maldives before their conversion to Islam, which occurs in consequence of Ibn Battuta's defeat of a Djinn ghoul saving the life of the King's daughter. In return the King and his people convert to Islam and the King accompanies Battuta on his travels for ten years. Before leaving, Ibn Battuta plants a nut from the tree beneath which the Prophet Mohammad addressed the Ummah, and waters it with a vial of ZamZam Water. The Tree blossoms forth leaves on every one of which is inscribed a poem or tale and at the end of each year the Tree sprouts a red leaf on which is written a verse of the Holy Koran. If the Sultan reads the verse aloud and passes it to his guests, and if an unbroken chain of the blossoming stories is told and retold, then neither he nor they shall age further that year. It is thus that the Sultan and his guest Zhou Chenggong age no further since the time of Ibn Battuta and are alive three hundred years later to meet Captain Sartorius. It falls on Sartorius, Zhou Chenggong and Princess Nooaysua to continue and refresh the "Sea of Stories" to forestall their own deaths and to preserve the immortality of the tree by reciting a daily story. Echoes Alf Layla Wa Layla,—The Thousand and One Nights.

Dr. Waheen, Vice-President of the Maldives arranges for Sartorius and Teddy Zhou to dive on the shipwrecks of their ancestors. He laments the fate of his nation which may be submerged by rising sea levels due to Global Warming and endorses the initiative for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Professor Carlos Rivera, of the National University of Mexico (UNAM) is Sartorius' host in Mexico City and a activist in the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly campaign in Latin America. He is also an anthropologist and literary writer who discusses with Sartorius and Günter Gross the place of Latin American and Spanish Literature in World Literature and the anthropological context of the European conquest and ascendency over the Aztec, Mayan and Incan peoples of the New World after Columbus, delineating his theory as to why some civilizations advanced from their hunter-gatherer origins and others did not, resting ultimately upon the"Farmer Power" of food surpluses and the ensuing growth of population and division of labour of the Agricultural Revolution and a cross-fertilization of multiple-civilizations in Eurasia.

Pablo, is a jazz saxophonist working part-time in Sartorius' hotel in the Zona Rosa in Mexico City. During Sartorius' alcohol and mescal binges he takes him under his wing and introduces him to the Mexico City nightspots the Café Chagrin and the Club Paradiso, where he also introduces him to the beautiful nightclub singer Maria, dressed as a "Catrina" on the Mexican Day of the Dead, with whom Sartorius has sex. Later, Pablo introduces him to Tiresias/Teresa, a bi-sexual nightclub performer with whom he goes to the Teatro Magico—The Magic Theater—for Madmen Only! where Sartorius undergoes surreal and psychedelic adventures and a voyage into hidden dimensions of the hyperreal!

Maria, is a seductive nightclub singer who sleeps with Sartorius in Mexico City when he is having an alcoholic breakdown. She is introduced to Sartorius by Pablo at the Café Chagrin on the Mexican Day of the Dead, Dia de los Muertos, when he is contemplating suicide on his 50th birthday at a conference to promote a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, and as a "Sister of Mercy," her sexual kindness keeps Sartorius from killing himself. Dressed as a "Catrina." or elegant lady in a death's mask, reminiscent of the ancient Aztec "Lady of the Dead"—Mictecacihuatl—and offering him sexual comfort and narcotic drugs, she becomes an icon and guide for Sartorius into a surreal world, from the Club Paradiso to the Teatro Magico—For Madmen Only! She also introduces Professor Sartorius to Tiresias/Teresa, a bi-sexual nightclub singer, which turns into a sexual ménage-a-trois which proves a stepping stone into a realm beyond our known reality!

Tiresias/Teresa, is a bi-sexual nightclub singer and female-impersonator Sartorius encounters at the Club Paradiso in Mexico City while looking for Maria. He/She introduces Sartorius to the Teatro Magico—The Magic Theater—For Madmen Only! and accompanies him on some of his surreal adventures in the Psychoplex there, involving their defeat of the Lord Death from the Popul Vuh, incarnation as an Aztec Emperor and Sartorius' incarnation as the master lover of all women. Sartorius' alcoholic and drug induced binge in Mexico City ends in a ménage-a-trois involving Maria and Teresa. Tiresias echoes the role of the blind seer in the Odyssey's Hades.

Imbunche—a legendary deformed being from Latin American tradition, maimed, castrated, blinded, and tended by infernal hags who bound and sewn in a bag serves as a perverse ultimate phallic symbol for use in occult fertility rites. Echoes the figure in the novel El obscene pajaro de la noche/The Obscene Bird of the Night by Jose Donoso.

Lord Tlacaelel, is a character assumed by Sartorius in the first chamber of the Teatro Magico Psychoplex; he is the historical despotic Aztec ruler credited with developing the rites of human sacrifice by excision of the heart on a large scale and leading the Aztec Triple Axis to military dominance.

Xbalanque and Hunahpu, The Divine Twins are characters assumed by Sartorius and Tiresias in the second chamber of the Teatro Magico Psychoplex; they correspond to the twin heroes of the Mayan epic Popul Vuh who travel to the underworld and defeat Lord Death, Xibalba.

Lord Death, Xibalba is Sartorius' and Tiresias' nemesis in the second chamber of the Teatro Magico Psychoplex. He is Death, the ruler of the Underworld who is defeated by the Divine Twins in Mesoamerican ball game, after which Death also dies.

Xochiquetzal, Goddess of Love and Fertility is the goddess-lover of Sartorius in the third chamber of the Teatro Magico Psychoplex who promises eternal consummation and the possession of all women to him as long as he slays the former king and himself remains unslain by any challenging successor; She is an Aztec incarnation of the spirit of the corn and fertility rites delineated by Frazer in the Golden Bough. Sartorius slays her when she demands that he cut out Eva's heart in human sacrifice as a condition of sexual union with her.

The Reverend Dicky Drake, marries Sartorius and Eva in the Church of St. John in Little Gidding, England the ancestral home of the Sartorius family and site of the spiritual community founded by Nicholas Ferrar referred to in T.S. Eliot's The Four Quartets. He also performs the memorial service and burial of Sartorius' remains in the family plot in the graveyard of Little Gidding's church after his putative death.

Wole Obatala, is a celebrated African author from Nigeria who has also been elected as a member of the Pan-African Parliament and with whom Sartorius and Eva have an extended conversation on African and World Literature at the Pan-African Parliament in Midrand, South Africa.

Garry Bonoir, is an American Labor Union and Occupy Wall Street activist of French-Canadian extraction who advocates the creation of global labor unions and global collective bargaining as an important step in redressing the disadvantage of the global working and middle class suffering from imbalanceed economic globalization. Working for The Counterforce and the Change to Win labor union he also advocates a Global New Deal translating the social safety net and augmented balance of power between labour, capital and government attained in Roosevelt's Depression Era New Deal at the level of the nation-state into a globalized 21st Century post-Westphalian setting, with the globalized economy re-balanced with the globalization of governmental and labour organizations. He first meets Sartorius at the beginning of the book as a leader of the Economic Democracy and a proto-Occupy Wall Street protest in New York during the Bush years, and later becomes involved in the "People Power" movement for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and Millennium Goals. He later becomes a top leader of the Occupy Wall Street movement, which becomes famous years after its lonely beginnings. Much later, he meets Sartorius, Eva and Wole Obatala at the meeting of the Pan-African Parliament where they both address and discuss the needed responses to globalization and the World Financial Crisis.

Professor Pieter Verhoven of the University of Witswaatersrand, is an evolutionary biologist and a member of the Pan-African Parliament meeting in Midrand-Johannesburg, South Africa who takes part in a discussion of African Literature and the evolutionary adaptive role of religion with Sartorius during the meeting in Midrand.

Johannes Wolfgang von Goethe the immortal poet of Faust is Sartorius' guide and mentor in his journey through the underworld to Castalia, Middle Earth, the Grand Katabasis of the work, and on the Quest to the Council of the Immortals in the Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy, the Grand Anabasis of the work, to seek the Missing Seed Crystal, the Sylmaril which shall save humanity from the fate of destruction. He is also Sartorius' guide, mentor and inspiration at the scholarly level in pioneering the concept of "World Literature" or "Weltliteratur" which Sartorius is promoting and elaborating in his joint book with his friend Nobel Prize winner Günter Gross. He parallels the role of Virgil in Dante's Divine Comedy. He is also a functionary of the "Illuminati" a Freemasonlike brotherhood of enlightened souls and geniuses spanning the centuries.

Sun Wu Kong, The Monkey King is the human-like monkey hero of the Chinese classic Journey to the West (Xi You Ji), an incarnation of the Trickster archetype, and who also appears originally as Hanuman in the Indian classic The Ramayana of Valmiki. Along with Goethe he is Sartorius' and his colleague's guide to the underworld leading them in their escape from the underground Iranian nuclear facilities, and subsequently guides and accompanies them to Castalia, Middle Earth, the site of the Crystal Bead Game administered by the Magister Ludi, and on the Quest through the Wormhole to the celestial Council of the Immortals to save humanity from extinction, completing the epic Grand Katabasis.

Homunculus, is a miniature created man-figure contained in a glassed-bottle and radiant of intense light from Goethe's Faust. He helps Goethe and Sun Wu Kong search for Sartorius in the underground caverns of Qom.

Captain Nemo, from Jules Verne's immortal novel, he resurfaces in the present epic in a modernized Nautilus to ferry Sartorius and his colleagues through underground rivers and seaways to the Great Central Sea at the center of the earth, where is located Castalia, Middle Earth, the site of the Crystal Bead Game on which the fate of humanity on earth hangs, and to the central island of Omphalos where the Gateway to the Wormhole from earth to the Council of the Immortals within the Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy is found.

Zheng He, Chinese Admiral of the Southern Seas appears as Captain Nemo's second in command and makes an appearance in the journal narrative of Sartorius' ancestor, Admiral Sir George Rose Sartorius, who fought under Lord Nelson. He is the famed Chinese admiral and explorer who before Columbus in the 1400's led a fleet of 200 immense Treasure Ships from China to India, the Middle-East and as far as Africa.

Ibn Battuta, great Islamic traveler and explorer, sometimes known as the Muslim Marco Polo. In Captain George Sartorius' Journal is recorded the story of Ibn Battuta's conversion of the Maldives to Islam through defeating a bloodthirsty Djinn ghoul who feasted on the blood of virgin sacrifices, and his subsequent travels with the Sultan of Maleh.

David Epstein and Isser Diskin, appear in Book II as Mossad and Shin Bet/Shabak Israeli agents who cooperate with Jack Sartorius/Jack McKinsey of the CIA in counter-terror operations and in connection with arrangements for the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly Global Appeal telethon to be held in Teddy Stadium, Jerusalem.

Ami Giyalon, former head of Israeli Shin Bet/ISA security service who after a crisis of the heart has become a leader of Peace Now, the Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance and other left-spiritual movements in Israel. He helps Jack in his work on the Global Appeal for the UN Parliamentary Assembly in Jerusalem and gives Jack his views of the possible solutions for the Israel-Palestinian conflict.

The Global Spiritual Progressive Alliance, is a worldwide progressive movement that seeks to further many of the goals and values of prior progressive movements such as liberals, socialists and communists via new and more appropriate means in a worldwide movement embracing all religious faiths, nations and heritages and including dimensions of renewed spirituality and renewed ecological and environmental harmony and responsibility. In the era of globalization it is involved as an NGO sponsor of the Campaign for a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and of the Global Marshall Fund movement, and includes figures of the novel such as Ami Giyalon of Israel and Keith Ellisha, Muslim-American Member of the US Congress. After the detonation in Jerusalem it is active in forming the Brethren of the Common Life, ministering to the victims of the disaster, raising inter-faith global spiritual consciousness, and under the leadership of Mother Isis, Ami Giyalon and Mohammad ala Rushdie in raising funds for the construction of the Spiritus Mundi Inter-faith Temple, an inter-faith centre for global universal spiritual re-birth and solidarity.

Armida Alcinah, in Book II is the cynical mother of the beautiful Palestinian Rai singer Khlorindah who gives a provocative Tarot reading to the love besotted Orlando when he comes to her house desperately looking for Khlorindah. Echoes Gerusalemme liberata .

The Siloviki, the class of former "apparatchiki" of the Soviet regime, often associated with the former KGB/GRU and party elite who lost power with the fall of the Soviet Union but who have achieved successful "clawback" of their powers under recent central government reconsolidation. In the novel they and their reactionary allies, the Chinese Princeling Party and the Iranian Haghani Faction are at the heart of the "Triple Axis" conspiracy utilizing the Jerusalem atomic terrorist attack as a clever cover to turn back the clock on liberal reforms and achieve global and Eurasian dominance by decisively striking at the West's oil and energy jugular with a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor proportions leading an invasion of Saudi Arabia, Iraq and the region by the three powers.

The Princeling Party or Tai Zi Dang, is an alleged group or faction of Chinese Communist Party officials who are the sons and daughters of the highest level Communist Party members of the last generation. They have generally grown up spoiled with Party privileges, money from corruption, Western education and being placed in control of privatized state assets by virtue of their family influence. In the novel they lead a reactionary coup and conspiracy to push aside the liberal reformers and regain the displaced position of power of their parents or grandparents as a resurgent nationalist ruling elite, lost during the market reforms and to thereby push an emergent China into the role of a dominant nationalistic global power.

The Haghani Faction, or Haghani School is a reactionary political faction within the Iranian Islamic Republic centered around the alumni of the Haghani School under Ayatollah Yazdi which has succeeded in placing a great number of its members in positions of power in the Revolutionary Guards, the Quds Force, and in the government and militias. They correspond to the Stalinist Siloviki apparatchiki of the Soviet revolution, with whom they ally. In the novel they join with the Russian Siloviki and the Chinese Princeling Party in the central conspiracy of the book.

The Triple Axis, in the novel is the alliance of China, Russia and Iran to achieve dominance in the Eurasian and global balance of power by a conspiracy to seize the "Asian Peak Oil" of the Middle-East and by decisively severing the West's energy jugular to consign the West to its global strategic subordination under its domination. It also aims at achieving a "Concert of Eurasia" to "clawback" the market and libertarian reforms from the fall of the Soviet Union.

The Axis of Synarchy, conspiracy theorists attributed the influence of the Haghani School in Iran, the Siloviki in Russia and the Taizi Dang, or Princeling Party in China to a meta-conspiracy at a higher degree of cryptocracy, namely a shadowy elite, the alleged Axis of Synarchy, which was supposed to be the cryptocratic puppeteer behind all three phenomena. The Axis of Synarchy, according to this theory, sought to preserve the dominance of a cryptocratic elite in the name of a "harmonious society" as it was expressed in China, or God or Allah's design elsewhere, and most particularly one which would forever counter the threat of liberal Western bourgeois individualism and the associated threat of entropic "Anarchy." The Axis of Synarchy at the close of Book II is shown to extend to the machinations of Caeserion Khannis, a time travelling fugitive from justice in the 23rd Century after a failed attempt to overthrow the 23rd Century democratic United States of Earth and its Senate and become the first dictatorial Emperor of the Universal Empire.

President Wen Jiabao, is the liberal and humane Premiere of China who is betrayed in Book II by his own intelligence service and the reactionary Tai Zi Dang Princeling Party faction under Minister Luo Chunwang to be taken hostage in Jerusalem and Iran as a pawn in a game to justify seizure of the Middle East's oil by the Triple Axis countries Russia, China and Iran. He unwittingly delivers the terrorist bomb to Jerusalem concealed inside a Terracotta Warrior which he personally delivers to the Israel Museum in Jerusalem as a token of friendship between the two ancient cultures. He is held in Iran as a human-shield to prevent an American or Israeli nuclear attack, but later is returned to power after Luo and the reactionaries are dismissed after their plans to seize the Middle-Eastern oil and Russian Siberia prove abortive are defeated. He later assists in implementing the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Premiere Medvedev, in the novel is the liberal President of Russia like his counterpart Wen Jiabao in China is sidelined and betrayed by the reactionary Siloviki in his own intelligence services and government and made a hostage in Iran as a gambit to justify the seizure of the Middle-East's oil by the Triple Axis of Russia, China and Iran. After the plot of the Siloviki reactionaries is foiled he is returned to power and helps in the implementation of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Colonel Moussavi, in Book II the Iranian Revolutionary Guards Quds Force Commandant of the underground prison and nuclear processing facility in which Sartorius and his colleagues are held captive near Qom, Iran. He is also aide-de-camp to the Supreme Leader and a former classmate of Mustafa's at the madrassa of the Haghani School in Qom, which gives rise to the reactionary Haghani Faction which seizes control in Iran and plots with their counterparts the Russian Siloviki faction and the Chinese Tai Zi Dang or Princeling Party Faction in forming the Triple Axis conspiracy. He is the author of several books advocating the philosophy of "Synarchism" and alleged by his detractors to be a leader of a global cryptocratic conspiracy, the "Axis of Synarchy." In Book II he also proves a hero in recapturing the sinister Baroness Lilith Maddox, who proves to be an escaped sociopath tyrant from the 23rd Century.

The Three Messiahs—the Mahdi, Christ, and the Maitreya, who appear before the fictional Supreme Leader in Mohammad's short story "The Parable of the Supreme Leader and the Three Messiahs" but who are dismissed and sent away by him telling them they are no longer needed or desired and that it is only obedience to the mullahs which will make humanity happy in their unfreedom without spiritual choice or deliverance. The Koran predicts the coming of Christ in the end days and the Hadith refers to this coming shoulder-to-shoulder with the Mahdi, often associated with the Shia Occulted Imam. The Maitreya is a Buddhist parallel Messiah. Mohammad's Parable draws upon the Parable of the Grand Inquisitor of Dostoyevsky in the Brothers Karamazov. Mohammad recites the story of his fictional Supreme Leader to Iran's real Supreme Leader after their dinner together, somewhat preparing the ground for the Supreme Leader's later change of heart and abandonment of the Triple Axis conspiracy.

Foreign Minister Tang, of China passively disagrees with Minister Lou's Triple Axis conspiracy to seize the Middle-Eastern oil fields but goes along to avoid being politically isolated. Later after the adventure comes to disaster when NATO and the Russians expel China from Russian Siberia he joins Premiere Wen Jaibao in ousting the reactionary faction and reinstating the progressives, who aid in establishing the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly.

Marshall Li, is the reactionary, nationalist and aggressive head of the Chinese armed forces and Central Military Commission who joins with Minister Luo Chunwang in preparing the dual military adventures of the Triple Axis—the initial invasion of Saudi Arabia and the later fallback plan of a Chinese invasion of Russian Siberia. They are ousted from power with the ignominious defeat of those initiatives by the expanded NATO forces, now including Russia and Japan.

The Magister Ludi, or Master of the Game is the aged master of the Crystal Bead Game, which integrates all human knowledge and experience and which is conducted in the Grand Retort of Castalia, Inner Shambhala in Middle Earth on the shores of the Great Central Sea at the Bay of Pellucidar at the center of the Earth. The historical destiny of the human race is mysteriously tied in parallel to the continuing outcome of this game, and when the game reaches a stalemate by which the human race may come to an end the Magister Ludi sets in motion a plan for saving man by sending Sartorius and his colleagues through a Wormhole from the center of the earth to the black hole in the center of the Milky Way Galaxy from the Council of the Immortals meeting there to retrieve the Missing Seed Sylmaril Crystal which alone can break the stalemate. Echoes Hermann Hesse's classic character. At the end of Book Two, the Magister Ludi is revealed to be a time traveler from the 23rd Century, Senator Abor Linkin, who has returned to our present in pursuit of Caesarion Khannis, the leader of a failed coup attempt aiming to overthrow the democratic United States of Earth and its Senate, like Julius Caesar, ending the Republic and ushering in a Universal Empire with himself as autocratic Emperor.

The Illuminati, are a Freemasonlike brotherhood of enlightened souls and geniuses spanning the centuries which include Goethe and the Magister Ludi, and into which Sartorius is inducted at the end of Book II.

Caesarion Khannis, is a time-travelling fugitive from justice returning from the 23rd Century to our own time after being defeated in a coup attempt and civil war seeking to end the democratic Republic of the United States of Earth and replace it, like his namesake Julius Caesar, with an autocratic Universal Empire ruled by himself as Emperor. At the end of Book II it is revealed that Mustafa is in fact an alias and assumed identity of Caesarion Asmodeus Khannis fled from the 23rd Century with his twin-sister and incestuous consort Lilith, who work to abort the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly and a benign history by means of nuclear terrorism and by instigation of a World War III thrust humanity into an altered future characterized by a new Dark Age of evil and unbridled universal dictatorship.

Baroness Lilith Maddox, or Lilith, is the twin sister and incestuous sexual consort of Caesarion Asmodeus Khannis who flees with him through Time Travel from the 23rd Century, intervening conspiratorially at various points in past timespace to, Terminator-like, bring about the alteration of world history in favor of the outcome of evil and their own universal dictatorship. In Sartorius' present she assumes the identity of Baroness Lilith Maddox, also "Milady," mysterious, vital and powerful latest wife of media supermagnate, Lord Baron Rupert Maddox. In Book Two it is revealed that she has throughout both books been instrumental in the global conspiracy of the Triple Axis, the nuclear bombing of Jerusalem and the bombing of the American Olympic team in London, as well as the attempted assassination of Jack Sartorius/McKinsey, CIA Anti-Terror undercover agent. It is intimated that she may also be a demoniac reincarnation of the prior Biblical-Apocryphal Lilith, "Sir She" who seeks to take vengeance on Sartorius and the UN Parliamentary Assembly in retaliation for Sartorius' ancestor, Admiral Sartorius' sexual rejection of her in the early 19th Century, leading to her destruction.

The United States of Earth, is the successful world government which is built upon the foundation of Sartorius' work in instituting the United Nations World Parliament. It comes into existence in 2084 through the efforts of Abor Linkin and gives rise to a "Golden Age" of two-hundred years until falling into corruption, moral decay, predatory imperialism and disintegration at the center of an oppressive empire within the solar system, echoing the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Abor Linkin successfully leads a civil war against Caesarion Khannis who seeks to overthrow the Republic, Senate and democratic Constitution and replace it with a Universal Empire under an autocratic Emperor similar to his namesake Julius Caesar. It is from this time that the two Time Travellers, the fugitive Caesarion Khannis and the pursuing prosecutor Senator Abor Linkin make their Time Incursions into our present.

Albert Einstein, the renown genius of the Theory of Relativity who in the novel works under the Magister Ludi in engaging in the play of the Crystal Bead Game within the Grand Retort and with Goethe attempts to explain something of the physics of the Crystal Bead Game, the Umbilical Wormhole and Spiritus Mundi to the uncomprehending Sartorius at the beginning of his Quest for the Missing Seed Crystal, the Sylmaril.

Stephen Hawking, reknown physicist and theorist of black holes, baby universes and spacetime travel via wormholes, collaborates with Einstein and Goethe in the Crystal Bead Game and helps explain to Sartorius his quest via a wormhole to the black and white holes at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy.

The Mothers, three immortal beings, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos who shape and weave out the destinies of all humans from their primordial subterranean womb of destiny, birth, death and transformation. They reside on the island of Omphalos at the center of the Great Central Sea at the center of the earth and are also the guardians to the Gateway to the wormhole to the celestial realm of the Council of the Immortals housed in an amphitheatre within the Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. Echoes Goethe in Faust and conflates the Fates and Furies in Greek mythology.

Ogun, is the Yoruba God-Hero who joins Sartorius's Quest for the Missing Crystal at the seat of the Magister Ludi's Crystal Bead Game, Castalia, Middle Earth, becoming one of the journeying Argonauts. He is variously known as the "The Lord of the Road" or the "Way Maker," hacking a path for the gods through the Primordial Chaos. Towards man he acts sometimes like Dionysius and sometimes like Prometheus, with the goal of bridging the gap between the human and the divine realms, as recounted modernly by Wole Soyinka.

The Abiku, unborn spirit-children of African legend called upon by Ogun in Book Two on the chthonic Island of Omphalos to help clear a path for Sartorius and the Argonauts through the impenetrable jungle towards the portal of the Celestial Wormhole for their quest.

Chiron, the wise and kind centaur of Greek legend who bears the pregnant Eva up the slopes of the island Omphalos towards the Temple of the Mothers and the Gateway to the Celestial Wormhole.

The Grigori, or "The Watchers," (Genesis 6:4 and Jude 1:6) are a primordial race of fallen angels who lost their angelic powers after making love to earthly women. They are the "Guardians of the Doorways" between the physical plane and that which is beyond. They are forced to open the Gateway at the orders of the Mothers after the Monkey King Sun Wu Kong steals the Mothers' only eye and extorts their compliance. They are assigned as the guardians of the Celestial Gateway leading from Omphalos at the center of the Earth to the Celestial Amphitheater within the Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way Galaxy and to the celestial realms beyond. The Grigori, the fallen angelic sons of God having had intercourse with the daughters of Man, who bore them sons: the monstrous, hybrid and cannibalistic Nephalim, mentioned in Genesis and the Book of Enoch, and who are aided in their sentinel duties by this legion of their hideous offspring.

The Grand Sphinxes—Guardians of the Great Horizons, assist the Mothers and the Grigori in guarding the Celestial Gateway on the Island of Omphalos in the Great Central Sea at the center of the Earth.

The Argonauts, or Warriors of Light in the novel constitute the small band accompanying Sartorius on his Quest for the Missing Crystal to resolve the stalemate of the Crystal Bead Game and save humanity from destruction, including Eva, Andreas, Jack, Mohammad, Ogun, Nemo, Sun Wu Kong and Goethe. Echoes the Questors of the Golden Fleece in the Argo under Jason.

Mephisto, the spirit of negation is the nemesis of Sartorius and the Argonauts who argues the case against Mankind's survival in the Council of the Immortals and who attempts to kill them and steal the Missing Seed Crystal, the Silmaril by attacking Nemo's submarine The Nautilus in his own evil craft The Baphomet, which, however, is destroyed in a dramatic undersea battle in the Great Central Sea. Echoes Faust and scripture—"Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint!"

Mundus, in the novel is a Subaltern of Mephisto, a personification of the Devil, a fallen angel, who serves as the principal general leading an ambush of Sartorius and the "Argonauts" who are returning with the Seed Crystal, or Silmaril to rescue human history and humanity in the crisis of the Crystal Bead Game in Castalia, Middle Earth. Mundus leads and commands demons, phantoms, dragons, zombies and other underworld combatants, but is defeated by Ogun and and monsters to intercept Sartorius and the Sylmaril Quasicrystal, but instead meets his doom trapped in the liminal interzone between the Inner and Outer Doors to the "Otherworld" beyond the Umbilical Wormhole on the Island of Omphalos. In Roman mythology the Mundus stone is the stone which seals the portal to the Underworld or Hell, and is one of the two sacred stones, the Lapis Manalis, along with the Aqualicium, or rain-bringing stone. Mundus also appears in numerous Internet and computer game series sagas.

Trismegistus, or "Thrice Great" Emperor of the Underworld Sea in the novel is a conflation of Pluto, the God and King of the Underworld and Chthonic Realm, Neptunus, the God and King of the Seas, and Hermes, also Hermes Trismegistus, the Messenger of the Greek Gods, Trickster, and God of Crossroads, conflated with Thoth, his Egyptian incarnation. Such conflation arises because of his presence simultaneously as God of the Sea, God of the Underworld and God of the Cosmic Crossroads in the quasi-Equatorial line-crossing or "Point Crossing Ceremony" at the "Still Point of the spinning World," or very center of the globe, undergone by the mariners, including Sartorius, Eva and the other "Argonauts" questing after the Silmaril Seed Crystal in the "Great Central Sea" at the center of the Earth.

Triple Hecate, in the novel is the triple wife or consort of the triple-persona Trismegistus—that is a conflation of the Goddesses Persephone, wife of Pluto and Queen of the Underworld, Amphitrite, wife-consort of Neptune, God of the Seas and of Hecate, consort of Hermes, God of Crossroads. She appears as part of the Royal Court with Trismegistus at the "Point Crossing Ceremony" aboard the Nautilus in the Great Central Sea at the Center of the Earth.

Davy Jones, is an embodiment of the demonic presence of the sea, or lost soul of the lost mariner like the Flying Dutchman or Wandering Jew, who in the Equator-Crossing or analogous "Point Crossing Ceremony" at the center of the Earth, serves as a Scribe to the Ruler Trismegistus, conflated with Thoth, scribe to the Egyptian deities.

Peter Pembroke and Jude Friedlaw, are members of Isis and Osiris's rock band, The Angels of Thoth who become leaders of "The Family" or the messianic cult surrounding Osiris and Isis following the nuclear detonation in Jerusalem and the military crisis and confrontation threatening WWIII and nuclear Armageddon which follows.

Al-Buraq, is the winged stallion which bore Mohammad to heaven in his "Night Journey" and which he tied to the Wailing Wall. Osiris sees him in a dream which he takes as a sign of his divine mission.

The Gates of Ijtihad, Iran's Supreme Leader is visited in a holy dream by the Angel Gibreel, or Gabriel, bearing a divine message to "Open the Gates of Ijtihad;"—meaning to throw off the dead hand of fossilized authority and open Islamic tradition to updating, respiritualization and reform in light of the ongoing living spirit of Allah, echoing the Sufi emphasis on the living spirit of Islam as opposed to benumbed compliance with the dead hand and letter of the law and tradition. Concomitantly, the opening of the sluice-gates of Ijtihad is meant to enable the release of the dammed and pent-up waters and energies of "Ihsan," spiritual excellence and beauty, freed to spill forth productively and creatively in God, Allah's spillways of this earthly life.

The Silmaril—is the "Missing Seed Crystal" which is the object of the quest of Sartorius' Argonauts to the Island of Omphalos in Middle Earth and to the Council of the Immortals in the Amphitheatre within the black hole at the middle of the Milky Way Galaxy in Book II. The Silmaril crystal, or quasicrystal, is the key element which may resolve the Crystal Bead Game and thus rescue the human race from extinction. Echoes Tolkien's Silmaril crystal which contains the unsullied light of the original creation and is the subject of multiple quests in The Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion.

Renovius St. Cosmo and the Chums of Chance—make a cameo appearance at Castalia, Middle Earth—Inner Shambhala, where their zeppelin, the Incommode, takes Sartorius on an aerial tour of the arcology of Castalia and the neighboring Bay of Pellucidar, having Rescued Princess Chthonia from attack by the Orcs and her rebellious subjects. Echoes Pynchon's passage through the Telluric Interior in Against the Day.

Euphorion ("Euphy") Sartorius, is the posthumous love-child born to Eva after Sartorius's death. He is named for the joy of their love and after the love-child of Helen and Faust in Faust.

Quod scripsi, scripsi.

© Copyright 2013 Robert Sheppard. All Rights Reserved.

About the Author:

Robert Sheppard , Author, Poet & Novelist

Professor of World and Comparative Literature

Professor of International Law

Senior Associate, Committee for a Democratic United Nations (KDUN)

Robert Sheppard is the author of the acclaimed dual novel Spiritus Mundi, in two parts, Spiritus Mundi the Novel, Book I and Spiritus Mundi the Romance, Book II. The acclaimed "global novel" features espionage-terror-political-religious thriller-action criss-crossing the globe involving MI6. the CIA and Chinese MSS Intelligence as well as a "People Power" campaign to establish a United Nations Parliamentary Assembly on the model of the European Parliament, with action moving from Beijing to London to Washington, Mexico City and Jerusalem while presenting a vast panorama of the contemporary international world, including compelling action and surreal adventures. It also contains the unfolding sexual, romantic and family relationships of many of its principal and secondary characters, and a significant dimension of spiritual searching through "The Varieties of Religious Experience." It contains also significant discussions of World Literature, including Chinese, Indian, Western and American literature, and like Joyce's Ulysses, it incorporates a vast array of stylistic approaches as the story unfolds. Book II, Spiritus Mundi the Romance, dilates the setting, scope and continuing action as a Romance of fantasy adventure where the protagonists, still following the original action of Book I, embark on a quest to the realms of Middle Earth and its Crystal Bead Game in search of the Silmaril Missing Seed Crystal and thence through a wormhole to a "Council of the Immortals" in an Amphitheater in the center of the Milky Way Galaxy to plead for the continuance of the human race in the face of threatened extinction from a nuclear World War III involving the confrontation and military showdown between NATO, China, Russia and Iran unfolded from the espionage events of Book I. The contemporary epic culminates with the first convening of the United Nations Parliamentary Assembly, a world-scale version of the European Parliament installed as a new organ of the United Nations.

Dr. Sheppard presently serves as a Professor of International Law and World Literature at Peking University, Northeastern University and the State Intellectual Property Office (SIPO) of China, and has previously served as a Professor of International Law and MBA professor at Tsinghua University, Renmin People's University, the China University of Politics and Law and at the Law Institute of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS) in Beijing, China. Having studied Law, Comparative Literature and politics at the University of California, Berkeley (Ph. D.) Program in Comparative Literature), Northridge, Tübingen, Heidelberg, the People's College and San Francisco, (BA, MA, JD), he additionally has been active as professor of International Trade, Private International Law, and Public International Law from 1993 to 1998 at Xiamen University, Beijing Foreign Studies University, the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences Graduate School (CASS), and the China University of Political Science and Law in Beijing. Since 2000 he has served as a Senior Consultant to the United Nations Industrial Development Organization (UNIDO) in Beijing and has authored numerous papers on the democratic reform of the United Nations system.

Related Links and Websites: Spiritus Mundi, Novel by Robert Sheppard

For Introduction and Overview of the Novel, to read sample chapters or for more information visit:

https://spiritusmundinovel.wordpress.com/

For Updates on the Upcoming Movie Version of the Novel Spiritus Mundi & Casting of Actors and Actresses for the Leading Roles See:

http://robertalexandersheppard.wordpress.com/

For Authors Blog: https://robertalexandersheppard.wordpress.com//

To Read About the Occupy Wall Street Movement in Spiritus Mundi:

http://occupywallstreetnovel.wordpress.com/

To Read the Blog of Eva Strong from Spiritus Mundi

https://evasblogfromspiritusmundi.wordpress.com/

To Read the Blog of Andreas Sarkozy from Spiritus

Mundi: http://andreasblogfromspiritusmundi.wordpress.com/

To Read the Blog of Yoriko Oe From Spiritus Mundi:

http://yorikosblogfromspiritusmundi.wordpress.com/

To Read the Blog of Robert Sartorius from Spritus Mundi:

http://sartoriusblogfromspiritusmundi.wordpress.com/

Robert Sheppard: Author, Poet & Novelist

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Author of Spiritus Mundi, Novel

Spiritus Mundi Novel Website: http://spiritusmundinovel.wordpress.com

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