 
The Onyx Spark Job

Eric Maldonado & Phil Gilley

Published by Eric Maldonado at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Eric Maldonado & Phil Gilley

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The Onyx Spark Job

what:

Hardboiled Tale

for:

Spiritual Misadventure

and how:

Not Written Occult

The Work Of

Nick Turner

transcribed by

Eric Maldonado

from an old school composition book found by

Eric Maldonado & Phil Gilley

Transcriber's Preface

It all started one night when Phil said:

"Hey, you know what would be cool?" Phil looked happy.

"What's that?" I wanted to be happy too.

"To write an 80's cult film set in the 80's!"

It did sound cool, though I didn't know about it making anyone happy. Phil must have just been happy that night and I was not.

Phil and I work in a swank steakhouse in Central California. He's the valet and I'm the doorman. We got together a few times at our favorite taco stand before work and bounced some ideas around but nothing really seemed to gel.

Then one afternoon I was helping Phil set up the valet station. We opened the key box and there it was: An old school black and white flecked composition book.

It was tattered, worn and filled cover to cover with tiny cryptic block letters. It was written with thick black ballpoint ink. Its cover label read only: Onyx Spark.

That night Phil and I did our best to decipher our find but it was tough going. We did get enough to figure that we had stumbled upon a mother load. Since my handwriting was the worse, it fell upon me to transcribe the whole load.

And what a load it was. The whole thing appeared at first to be one long stream of consciousness. I looked closer. Tiny dots of punctuation were there... I looked for more.

Some words were capitalized mid sentence. A rather lengthy section of dialog was written over double. Did that indicate bold letters?

I began to transcribe, setting left and right margins at one inch and used 12 Point Courier, the standard for screenplays. I worked in earnest, faithfully including each tiny dot of punctuation.

... And that's how I came to know Nick Turner.

Each and every paragraph justified itself to the damned point...

12 Point Courier is a fixed width font, meaning, for every ten points of character, including spaces, one inch of text is out laid across the page. When transcribing as I did on a computer, any word exceeding the right margin automatically drops to the next line.

Of course, a computer can automatically justify paragraphs by spreading and hyphenating words to fill the margins of a page.

But just look at the out lay of text in The Onyx Spark Job.

The words are not spread. Nothing is hyphen-ated. Each paragraph naturally justifies itself at the right margin to the damn point.

Nick Turner does not deal in jagged edges.

And the result is particular. Each paragraph, many resulting in uniform blocks, expresses itself as a particular line, lines or block of action. Nick's paragraphs themselves are expressive of action. The particular result of Nick's style is rather... Epic.

The Onyx Spark Job is no epic poem. However, it is rather epic in its prose. Nick's style and structure itself is epic. Though Nick himself is often declamatory as when telling you what for and how.

He even waxes lyrically on occasion as if imploring you to get it.

I have emulated Nick's style for this Preface, the Introduction and the Afterward but allowed for computer justification in the Chapter Notes. So that you may note the difference. And so that thereby I can testify...

... It is Not easy.

Which I suppose leads us to our Introduction.

Special Note: This ebook edition features deactivated computer justification in the Chapter Notes. For your viewing pleasure.

Also of Note: Due to screen size and font size/style preference, certain ereading experiences will render Nick's full page block paragraph format and comments thereupon herein irrelevant. This doesn't depreciate in any way the relevancy of Nick's narrative.

Introduction

Some things are easy to read. Others are Not... It all depends.

The Onyx Spark Job rather belongs to the latter two categories.

It's as though Dashiell Hammett willfully felt Soren Kierkegaard in the land of the dead and together they thought a story called Onyx Spark would do our world good only to discover that Rudolph Steiner had imagined and inspired their mutual intuition.

If that makes sense, you are in for a treat. If it does not, you are going to get the treatment. The Onyx Spark Job is a complete treatise. Everything you need to get it is included in the story.

Wether you get it, or not at all, depends upon you, the reader.

But to get it at all... You, dear reader, must Pay Attention.

And what must you pay attention to? Nick immediately tells you just below the title on the title page where he references The Onyx Spark Job as...

what:

Hardboiled Tale

That The Onyx Spark Job is hardboiled is not only indicative of Nick's personality evidenced through his justified to the point style and epic prose but also of what makes any hardboiled tale inherently compelling.

Hardboiled literature and its resultant genres, especially film noir, are so damn compelling because they are thematically epic.

Good versus bad versus good all in a world where the grey areas intersect and nothing is absolute but the inevitable justice of destiny. Just like life. And like the works of Dashiell Hammett.

Nick Turner himself could be the work of Hammett. It's as though Hammett had resurrected his iconic character, The Continental Op, from the land of the dead and ordered him back to our world that the greater justice he observed in the afterlife might be better served.

But what in the world would one resurrect such a character for?

Nick tells you in his next line of the title page...

for:

Spiritual Misadventure

And what makes for more spiritual misadventure in this world than philosophy? That Nick's thinking is epically hardboiled obviously has a lot to do with his feelings for the spiritual misadventures of his fellow humans. It's obvious in Nick's many philosophically declamatory passages throughout the course of his narrative. Thus raising the question of... What makes for spiritual misadventure?

Thinking, feeling and willing are spiritual activities. Nick does his best to illustrate this in The Onyx Spark Job. To read Nick's narrative is in itself a spiritual adventure requiring you to pay attention through your faculties of thinking, feeling and willing.

And Nick makes you pay by the very dialectic structure in the majority of his frequent philosophically declamatory passages throughout his narrative of The Onyx Spark Job.

It's as if Soren Kierkegaard himself was brooding over his own seminal work, The Sickness unto Death, in the land of the dead when Dashiell Hammett encountered him there. Kierkegaard's The Sickness unto Death is one of the great philosophical works to emerge from the Nineteenth Century.

For Kierkegaard, the human being is not being human prior the discovery and acceptance of its own standing before God as an individual spirit and the "Sickness unto Death" itself is the despair inherent in the spiritual adventures or misadventures humans undergo in any discovering and accepting of themselves being individual spirits standing before God... But there's a complication inherent to the human being that complicates the adventure.

The human being is a synthesis: Of the temporal and the eternal. Of freedom and destiny. Between these two relations relates the individual spirit... The individual spirit is the relation that relates to itself. Does it sound complicated? Well, yes, we are.

And Nick Turner is painfully aware of the complications inherent in being human. But more than that he is aware that it is not so easy to be human. And that's what for and how he has written his narrative of The Onyx Spark Job.

This he tells you in his final line of the title page...

and how:

Not Written Occult

To be human is not easy. Life itself is complicated. Though Nick never mentions Hammett nor Kierkegaard in The Onyx Spark Job, he does refer to Rudolph Steiner, on more than one complex occasion.

Most people may be aware of Rudolph Steiner as the founder of Waldorf Education and Biodynamic Agriculture. Fewer may be as aware of his contribution to Speech and Drama as the founding father of Eurythmy. And few are aware of his influence on the English language through his friendship with Owen Barfield, a founder of the Oxford Inklings... A Mid 20th Century literary group whose membership included C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

More than a few are familiar with Steiner as the founder of Anthroposophy. In Steiner's founding Anthroposophical works: Philosophy of Freedom, How to Know Higher Worlds, Theosophy, Outline of Occult Science and Christianity as Mystical Fact, Steiner establishes a Science of The Spirit. Steiner's five founding Anthroposophical works are, if read, a significant assistance to your future of human evolution. I kid you not.

Those five works, if truly read, evoke a thinking, feeling and willing panorama of what it is to be human for those who truly read and of how the individual spirit evolves, is evolving and into its future may evolve but that being said, Steiner's five founding Anthroposophical works are, truly, not written occult.

However, Steiner's works are not easy to read. Neither for that matter are Kierkegaard's and to read Hammett is to become a bit hardboiled yourself. But that is exactly the author's intention.

For to read, in itself, is a spiritual activity involving your thinking, feeling and willing. To read adventure involves your thinking, feeling and willing with faith, love and hope. And a reading of spiritual works involves your thinking, feeling and willing with faith, love and hope for life, light and... Being.

But in hardboiled literature you get involved with characters who are ignorant, insentient and inert as they dole despair, loathing and anxiety until the absolute justice of destiny sees to it they get the darkness, death and nothingness they've got coming...

... Hell, that they've deserved.

And they deserved it alright. Every guy and girl in a hardboiled tale who selfindulgently shirked a harder life to unscrupulously get whatever for themselves gets the absolute justice in the end.

However they tried to steal love... You, the reader, knew better.

The easy life is not easy. Anything worth getting is hard to get.

That's what makes the works of Hammett so hardboiled. As for the works of Kierkegaard and Steiner, they make for hard reading not because they are written occult but because they are written for those who seek truth. The truth is not occult. But it is hard to get. That's what makes it worthwhile and how for those who would seek the truth... Spiritual adventure must not be written occult.

So The Onyx Spark Job is Not easy to read. But it is not written occult. It all depends... Upon your will to think and feel truth.

Yes, dear reader, I heard you when you asked why in the hell you should pay attention to any of this. I suppose the time has come to take my leave of you. May this Introduction be your bundle of luck on a stick over your shoulder... As I give you over to Nick Turner: The Man Who is Not, Redeemer of Lost Souls, Mr. Big Time for Hell...

... May God have mercy on your soul.

The Onyx Spark Job

A

I am Nick Turner. I am Not. That's how I know who is.

You may ask what for. Just do Not ask why. Why Not? Why is a fool question. What for and how, when combined, is Not a fool question.

Think about it for God's sake!

While I tell you about what for and how. Let's start with Norma.

Norma is Not a fool. She is Obsessed with Nick Turner. I am Not. Indeed, I am the opposite. It is what I am for and how I am Not.

I became aware of Norma's Obsess predicament during the Felmont Job. It was the Job prior to this one. What the hell is my Job?

The Cardinal arrives. He offers the Job. I accept then leave the Monastery for the City. I usually set up Base prior to meeting a client. I had met Felmont at the Fairmont.

I Thought that was funny. Felmont did Not get it. Too bad. We were in that Bamboo Tiki Bar. The lounge band drifted on a raft about a fake lagoon. Stink blasts of fake mist wheezed from the rafters to glamor up that crappy lounge act. So... Perhaps Felmont was right.

It was Not funny. It was pitiful. But Felmont was pitiful.

A misty blast of fake stink set Felmont off:

"Anything. Anything! I know she did it but not there." The tears welled. "It's killing her mother. It's killing Me!" Tears gushed for pity and So did Felmont.

What about some Parental concern for their little girl prior the committed crime? Oh how I have Not sympathy for pity plead fools such as Felmont.

"You have to save her!" Felmont gushed his pity tears. "I'll pay anything!" Raft and lounge band passed again with the fake stink.

That's what I do. They pay for it. I do make them pay. If only they knew what for. They know Not how much their Deal involves.

I took Felmont for ten million cash, his ten bricks of Nazi gold, his ten carat diamonds and his Late Goya Print which happened to be one of my ten favorites. I took it all up front.

Felmont's Daughter was in the Slam for the murder of Felmont's Father. I was Not certain she had committed a crime. I made to infiltrate the Slam. Then arranged for a Montecristo Maneuver.

It was easy to weed out the two inmates Death ready to save an innocent and Redeem their Souls. It was Not So easy to fix the brawl. It resulted in their Deaths with no harm to others. And created the necessary confusion afterwards.

I became certain Felmont's Daughter had Not murdered Grandfather just before we busted out. She was petrified of getting into her body bag. She had some innocence to lose. I had to dope her down. I got her in the bag... And had barely gotten into mine when the guards arrived.

The guards hauled us away for Free. Felmont's Daughter was safe with the Cardinal six hours later. I made for Felmont's mansion.

It was Time to seal the Deal.

Felmont's eyes made like a baby's when he read the Note. He puked like a prom queen when the brains splattered his study. I watched from a few yards away. Norma watched from right by the big window.

Norma stood aghast at the study window as the Note Bearer did his thing. William and I stood aghast behind a tree and studied Norma.

What the hell was she doing there? How had she known when and where? She should have been getting on with Life. Her Job had apparently gone even more tragic.

Hers was the Norma Job. I usually name a Job after its principle Interest. Her Kid Brother had needed saving. She had offered ten thousand cash. It was all she had. I took five.

I damn regretted Not taking it all as we watched her that night.

Felmont dropped the gun and the Note. Norma ran to the front door. She rang the bell. I was Not certain wether to admire or hate her. William and I ran to take her place at the study window.

Felmont, slobbering idiot, went to answer. Imagine! With a fresh blown corpse on the floor of his study. Norma blew past him. She ran for the corpse. Felmont dashed after her. Norma bent over to examine the corpse. Felmont yelled at her to stop. Norma stopped!

People do damned silly things around corpses.

But Norma was Not too silly. She had grabbed the gun. And there went all of Felmont's toughness. He set to the slobbering again.

"Shoot me. Shoot Me. Shoot Me! I'm a Murderer! "

Norma's got backbone. She yelled him back down.

"Shut Up!" She wagged the gun. "Sit Down!" He did. "I killed him." Her chin jutted forward. Her mouth opened ugly to show teeth and gums. She got into Felmont's face. "I Killed Him Five Years Ago!"

Felmont let slip a pity tear: "You don't understand..."

But I understood... Felmont was Fucked.

William and I discussed exactly what Felmont was Fucked for. And how. As Norma examined the corpse... And Felmont got back to his slobbering.

Norma could Not make sense out of the corpse. She probably figured it was a trick. That's what it would have been if she had arranged it. It's Not a trick. It's a real Deal requiring more sense than a journalist like Norma to figure out how.

Norma did have some sense. She wiped the gun clean of prints prior to leaving the study. Felmont remained there. Slobbering away over the mess.

William and I had to wait four hours until Felmont finally stopped slobbering and quit the study. We collected the corpse, brought it to the Cardinal for a proper Blessing and readied it for transport to the Monastery. It... had been No37.

No37's Debt had been paid. And I envied him.

I felt bad for Norma. Her Kid Brother's transgression had Not been so bad. He had a run in with Big Time Heroine Pusher Fuck. The Job had been easy for me. But the Note, and the gun, had been hard for Norma. Five years had passed.

It was easy to guess how Norma had gotten off Devotion to her Kid Brother. And onto Obsession for what about Nick Turner. Harder to guess how she had gotten onto the where and when of what about my Job.

Norma had made off with Felmont's Note. I usually collect the Note and William collects the corpse as we both clean up the mess. Nick Turner Notes always say the same thing:

"End my life for what I have Done."

The recipient of the Note usually refuses. The Note Bearer assures them: The beloved will Not be Redeemed until the Note's request is honored.

Believe me: You would Not leave that room alive if you were the Note Bearer even if you had to pry the gun from a Client's hand and blow your own brains out.

Norma had Not hesitated to pull the trigger. I'm certain that had much to do with her tracking me down. I always knew it inevitably had to happen. I was Not bothered it was Norma. I liked Norma. It bothered me she was a journalist.

A journalist stands for what I do Not: Standard Course of Justice.

Then a journalist makes the stand exactly how I do Not: Notoriety.

I wondered what Norma would make out of Felmont's Note. I had cut the individual letters from out of his favorite Nudie magazine to spell it out for him.

Such was the Felmont Job.

It took another week of work to arrange and finalize the details.

William collected our new Brother for Taken. I worked his Corpse into No73. William transported No73 with corpse of No37 back for the Monastery part of a Job clients know Not their Deal involves.

The Cardinal arranged for disbursement of Job Fees. I finalized the part of a Job clients know they deal for. It was Worthwhile.

Then I closed down Base for until the next Job.

I wonder if the Pope knows about the Cardinal's relationship with the Monastery. A mere hint of our Monastery six hundred years ago would have resulted in much Death.

Then came Fatima. The Virgin spoke to the Kids in Portugal. The Church put the Kids to the question. Their Pope did Not want to hear what for and how the Kids Spoke. They were So reluctant to See the Light. But that Pope could See. And conditions improved.

It was Time to Put Back into the World Good Taken from It.

My people began to rebuild our Monastery. That was seventy years ago. Then some fanatical son of a bitch torched our Monastery to Death thirty three years ago. Luckily, Fanatic was caught by the Flames. Son of a Bitch burned to Death. With our precious Temple.

And Fanatical Son of a Bitch is still there. Still embedded in the foundation of our Monastery. Our sewage hits him prior heading for more positive destinations... But I digress.

I had closed down Base. I had paid respects to the Landlord. I like the Landlord. He appreciates succinct respect. I had told Anna: "See you later." I cannot say goodbye to Anna.

Then I made for about a new way back to the Monastery.

A fiscal quarter usually passes prior the Cardinal offers a next Job. I had been at the Monastery twenty nine and a half days. It had been Time enough to bring our new Brother into the Light. We had yet to start him upon The Task of Redemption... As No73.

The Cardinal arrived.

William locked our new Brother into a cell. His start upon The Task would have to wait. I left with the Cardinal the next day.

The Job was urgent. The Job was bad. It was the Onyx Spark Job.

B

Norma was there when I first spotted the Mark. It was high atop some crappy bank tower outside the City. I had taken control of his helicopter prior to lift off while Norma listened to him on the landing pad.

The Mark was talking hard at Norma. He wanted hard information and he wanted it fast. Most likely he wanted to know about me. Did the Mark know to contact Norma? Or did Norma know to contact the Mark.

Norma could Not have told him much. Only about symptoms my actions belied. But the Mark was Not listening. And had Not been listening for years. Norma was learning more from the Mark than the Mark was learning from Norma.

The Mark dismissed Norma. Then made towards me in the helicopter.

Norma asked questions of the pad crew, scribbled an answer onto her note pad, stuffed the pad into her camera bag then eyed the Mark with contempt. As he strutted to join me in his helicopter.

Norma's eyes went wide. She had seen me at the controls of the helicopter. I smiled, waved and turned away. Norma had taken a Nikon from her camera bag. And was trying to snap photos of me.

The Mark had climbed into the helicopter. I motioned for him to buckle. He ignored me to put on his headset. I lifted off as he tried to buckle. The Mark was sharp enough. He asked right away:

"Where the hell is my pilot?"

"From where do you come?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"To where do you go?" I dropped the helicopter into a Death dive.

"Christ!"

"Leave The Christ out of this. You should have asked for HIM."

"No! I hear you're the man I want."

"I am Not." I climbed the helicopter insanely high and fast.

"Shit! Who the fuck are you?"

"I am the man you need." I pivoted for the City and pressed it hard. The Mark and I had five minutes to landing. His face lit.

"You're Nick Turner!"

"Who the hell is that?" I spun the helicopter counterclockwise rapid tight. Just to Fuck with him.

"Don't fuck with me! I've hired you. You work for me!"

"We've agreed to Nothing! I've done Nothing! You've said Nothing!" I cruised low above rooftops. It made him retch. I dropped lower. "What did you ask that Fucking journalist?"

"I wanted to know what to expect."

"And she told you what?"

"That you're the Devil and I'm going to Hell."

"I am Not and Not my Choice. Who are you?"

"You know who I am."

"I'm afraid so." I climbed the helicopter again. Made with The Shadow laugh. Then questioned the Mark: "What is It you want?"

"My son!"

"You will get what is yours."

"That's all I want."

"You will get what is yours. This is your last chance to change your mind."

"What do you want?"

"Money. And lots of it."

"Name it."

"One billion. Cash."

"Done!"

I stuck the helicopter into the City. The Mark had still Not buckled in. I wagged the helicopter to Slam him around. Then planted it upon the lowest pad in the City. The crew was Not expecting arrivals and it was dark. The Mark came up for air.

"Where the hell are we?"

"Figure it out. You'll be contacted about disbursements. When the Fees are received, you will get what is yours."

I got out of the helicopter while it shut down. The Mark reached for his phone. The landing lights came on as I ran for dark fast and security arrived. They ran direct for the helicopter and did Not see me pass behind.

It was Not too inconvenient for the Mark. Just a pad away from his but closer to Chinatown and Base was in Chinatown. I made for Base and recalled along the way about the Cardinal's offer of the Job.

The Mark had contacted the Cardinal: With a story about his Son being held by a cult in the City. The Mark's Son had followed a girl there. The cult had brainwashed his lost Son. The Mark had reached wit's End... The Mark was So was worried and concerned.

For shit he was. The Mark was a Hack and full of shit.

The Mark had no Son. He had no Daughters. He had no Wife. The Mark cared only for himself. He concerned only for gain. His only worry was for his Masonic Lodge standing. The Mark was a Corporate Hack.

The Mark worked for Old Greed: Oil, Banking, Real Estate. He and his people had yet to venture Media. They were prosaic idiots. A billion cash was a shit to them and they wanted the Kid in a bad way... The Kid was the Job.

The Kid was wise to The Secret and being held captive in the City. The Mark and his people were onto It. The Cardinal was concerned.

The Cardinal is Not one to mince words. He said it plain: The Kid was wise to The Secret. And at risk of coughing It over to others.

The Destiny of Humanity was at Stake.

I clocked the Cardinal the moment the words were out of his mouth and locked him in a cell bound to a bed. I doped him up good when he came to. Then interrogated him cruel for eleven hours straight.

It was our first fight.

When it was over, I apologized. The Cardinal was right. The stakes were high. The Job was bad. I would Not be able to work for a long time if I made it out alive except at the Monastery. That was only partial reason for a high price tag. The main reason was Resource:

Resource to rebuild our Monastery and continue our work there.

Resource what the Mark and his people had Stolen from the World.

Resource what they had Stolen Back into the World for the Good.

I had reasoned one billion cash as Resource limit the Mark and his people would reason Not worth recovery, Not worth the Mark himself and Not worth risking exposure.

I wondered if the Cardinal had arranged the meeting between Norma and the Mark. It made sense. Norma was our surest bet as far as a journalist went. She would push exposure if things went wrong but owe me more if things went right.

I felt rotten about Norma and her Brother. Experience had proved Jobs easiest for me as hardest on the Client. Those easily saved were Not long for this World. Norma's Obsession would follow the course. I wondered if the Cardinal had Destined her grieving for Nick Turner.

Five minutes from the helicopter and I was at Base. It was vacant and untouched. That was good. I sat crosslegged by the Landlord's door. I took deep breaths. I had barely taken eleven breaths when the door knocked. I stood. Then answered the door.

It was a young chinese man. The Landlord usually sent his Wife. He was likely aware my early arrival marked unusual circumstances. He had sent someone more serious. The Wife had been cool serious. The serious calm in this young chinese was positively chilling.

"Would you care for tea? We were just to enjoy some."

"I would be honored." I followed Young Chinese to ground floor.

The Landlord had been one of my earliest clients. I had asked Not for money. Only for the use of this building for long as required. It had been fifteen years.

I entered the ground floor room where the Landlord awaited. Young Chinese left us. I joined the Landlord on the floor. As he poured tea. He told me:

"You will be leaving us soon." It was a statement. The Landlord knew. I wondered what else he knew. And how he knew it. I bowed respect to the Landlord.

"I fear So." Not smart to bullshit the Landlord. I sensed he knew much by his tone. "I Pray to leave Not your generosity so soon as to offend your hospitality."

"It would be rude to impose upon you to stay though sorrow we will feel upon your absence will pain our thoughts for generations." He offered me tea.

I bowed to accept his tea: "A pain we shall bear together. Your friendship ennobles me. My gratitude is eternal." I bowed again.

We drank tea. I was glad the Landlord understood. He produced his pipe. I produced my Life Dust. We mixed Life Dust with tobacco. I pondered my next move... As the Landlord and I shared the smoke.

C

I had been in the City for half an hour. I was certain the Job site was under surveillance and had been for days but upped to full alert by my arrival. I made for the site.

I had an advantage on that site. Anna lived there. The coincidence bothered me. Was it the Cardinal's doing? Or was it God's Plan.

I am Not figurer of God's Plan. But knew any doings of man would reveal themselves soon. As the petty doings of man always reveal themselves soon. And nothing reveals them sooner than Risk.

My first Risk was to let Anna know I had arrived. The element of surprise was with me on that one.

I had never made a move on a Job prior to Fees being paid. Others figuring I could play into this would expect me to visit Anna but Not expect me until I had been paid.

Anna and I had been involved for five years. It did Not Matter how careful we had been. It did Not Matter how certain I was no others knew of her and I. This Job and its site changed all that.

I had to assume others figuring to get the Kid and The Secret knew of Anna and Base. I had to assume their figuring I knew they knew.

Others observing you when you are certain of Not being observed can figure you better than you figure yourself. How then do God and his Hosts figure us?

Or was I simply wrong about all of it? I was doing nothing but wax uncertain as I approached the site. There was Not time for that. I waxed an assumption to gain certainty.

I wax assumed their knowing of Base would avail them nothing. To Fuck with Base was to Fuck with the Landlord. Nobody in the City Fucked with the Landlord. Only the Landlord could Fuck with Base. Fifteen years made me Fucking certain I could wax that one.

I then waxed a Risk to increase the element of surprise. I would enter the site. As I had never entered it to visit Anna prior: I would use the front door.

I crossed the plaza of the complex across from the site. I crossed it fast but Not too fast. The Mark and his people called that ugly pile of crap their office. They would be watching from there. Fuck them. I was well dressed for the occasion.

I was wearing a full set of 1970s Yves Saint Laurent evening wear. Purchased five years prior. It was the first time I had ever worn it. I was wearing it all. Right down to the shiny shoes.

I crossed the street to the Job site's block. The site was an old five storied structure with two levels of basement. It had opened as a hotel in 1912. For last five years it had housed a spiritual community known as Onyx.

Spiritual community my ass. Business is location. Their clients were in that big phallus the Mark's people called offices. Onyx was a Whorehouse. It was a 'special' Whorehouse.

Onyx had taken root seeded at another location. It had replanted Ass facing that crappy phallus to take deeper root. Business had swelled.

I made Onyx's block on an alley. The alley's ground floor abutted Whorehouse. It housed Onyx Restaurant. It was a minimalist bistro. It was pretentious crap. I preferred the Grill abutting the other side of Onyx. It had been there since the Thirties. It was mostly bar with a revolving brass door.

I shave for a Job only after Fees have been paid. I stood in the Onyx doorway showing a month's growth of beard. It was enough to look like my look. It was Not enough to look like the Monastic I become between Jobs. Though you cannot look at me like I am some typical Monastic.

I am a 'special' Monastic. A heavy lifting Monastic. An enabling Brother shit upon by Destiny to make it all happen... Fuck me...

D

I rang the bell. I ignored the camera. I steadied into certainty.

I had to be steadfast when that door opened.

I sensed the Mark's chickenshits.

They watched from the Mark's building. I fingered a fat wad of cash in my left pants pocket. Anna's black Italian switchblade within right. My shortboy .45 Colt Auto with three inch barrel, and five round clip, was in the small of my back.

I wondered: The Mark was just the Mark. He was a mouthpiece for those who pulled strings. How would his string pullers react to receipt of nothing for their one billion? If they were onto the Kid and The Secret, who else was onto what was going down? What were they going to do about It?

The door opened. It was Young Chinese from the Landlord's. I was Fucked or golden or both or nothing I expected. I wanted to talk first:

"I need spiritual comfort."

"Seek and ye shall find." Young Chinese bowed and backed up.

I crossed the threshold of Onyx. And Crossed myself within.

Young Chinese led me. To a birdcage elevator. We passed the front desk of the old hotel. A big blind man was Muscle behind the desk. He was distinctly Irish. He sniffed as we passed and straightened his spine a notch. Something that might turn into the shadow of a smile almost touched his face.

He stayed behind the desk. Young Chinese and I made for into the birdcage. He made it climb. The big blind Irish made it out from behind the desk and for the front door.

Anna had told me a lot about the big blind Irish. They called him the Bruce. And he would be going next door. To drink at the Grill.

The Bruce had much to drink about. He had been IRA. He had done a load of Muscle work and killing. It had got too hot for the Bruce on his wee green island. So he and his Wife had fled for the City.

The Bruce had to lie low. He could Not do his usual work. His Wife could do hers. She had been a 'special' Whore back home. Some pimp calling himself a Guru had opened house for 'special' Whores. That 'special' Whorehouse was Onyx.

The Bruce got work as Muscle for Onyx. The Guru got to sleeping with the Bruce's Wife behind his back and a child was born. The Bruce's Wife said it was the Guru's but died at the Kid's birth. The Bruce went into the City that night. He drank himself blind.

He had been blind ever since.

The Guru kept him on as Muscle. The Bruce blind was better Muscle than any other in the City. That's saying something but there's a weird catch. The Bruce kept on for Love of his Wife's corpse. The Guru had hid her corpse and the Bruce would Not leave without her.

Supposedly, the Guru would Not restore the Bruce's Wife's corpse to the Bruce... Until the End of the Bruce's 'servitude' to Onyx.

I watched the Bruce amble out the front door as I rose to the next level of Onyx. I knew both of us in Future to have much forgetting to do.

The cage stopped at the next level. I followed Young Chinese out. He strode swift and smooth. I watched his black ponytail. It did Not sway. But laid smooth to his back as he strode down the hall.

Young Chinese lead me to the door of a small sitting room. Then opened the door and bowed me in. Inside was one Hell of a sight.

It was Whorehouse dark. It was Whorehouse velvet and overstuffed furniture. Whorehouse lamps with gaudy shades mocked romance. An old Victrola with brass horn played a big band Sinatra disk. The room was stuffed with old mobsters.

To Hell with the Mark and his string pullers. The man who was most man sitting in that gaudy room was king of his own strings. He was Russian and a king of crime. He was main man for miles of a Slavic society of free market motherfucking criminals.

I've never gotten over the idea of former Communists running Capitalist flow of shit marking the stained world we live in.

But I respect mobsters and that's good. Their whole Fucking world is shit run on respect. It has absolutely nothing to do with Love.

Mobsters are rotten things of the past. They are instinctive fingers of a Group Soul of Greed. They are mindless pawns of disincarnate evil.

People mistake dealing with mobsters as dealing with Individuals. That's pure bullshit. To deal with mobsters is to deal with evil itself. Individuals Love... Mobsters are possessed pawns of evil.

Ironically, king mobsters are the most Individuated fingers of evil. They are most damned and tortured of the group. They are evil's weakest link. I dug into him right away.

I spoke over my shoulder to Young Chinese as he closed the door behind my back. And kept an eye on the King.

"A six pack of Krug." Young Chinese bowed. "Make sure it's Fucking cold." Young Chinese closed the door. Then left to honor my order.

The King laughed like a hiccuping girl frog and hit back:

"Who the fuck are you?"

I told him: "I am Not."

The King had an escort of four old former Communists now mobster Thugs. And they all unleashed guns for my direction. As the King croaked:

"Good. We've been waiting for Not."

"I thought we were waiting for our turn and by the count of this room it would be a while for mine." A gun jabbed into my ribs. I raised my arms. The King waived the Thug off.

"He's never armed."

I corrected the King: "Small of my back. Help yourself."

The Thug removed shortboy45 with its holster and patted me down. He noticed my fat wad of cash. He ignored Anna's Switchblade as pointless.

The door opened behind me. Four Whores came in with six buckets of iced Krug and eleven flutes. It was one flute more than Whore room called for. Anna had the flutes. She put them down for all. I went to work on the first bottle.

The King made with the girl frog laugh again. Guns went away. I eased the cork out of my bottle. I kept it at forty five degree angle to let the gas pour out.

The lights wavered. Then ceased. I hit the floor.

The dark room clinked with the sound of four plus guns flying out with hammers pulling back. The King let out with the jagged croak.

"Hold it, sissies."

The lights flickered and came back on. The room was all guns and arms pointing where my head had been. Anna was on the floor next to me holding out a flute. I filled it. She looked me for a beat and got up. She made to the door and waited.

"Put 'em away." The King still sat the same overstuffed Whorecouch. "Get me a glass." The Victrola skipped...

A Thug lumbered for the Victrola and flipped the disk. His face irritated me. He cranked the Victrola. Sinatra played back with Harry James.

The Thug who had taken my gun stood above me with a flute. I stood and filled it to an inch from the rim. He took it to the King.

"What gives?" I asked as another Whore held me out a flute. She had dark hair and green eyes. She was sex and Hell with lips of fire engine red bursting to blow. It was Nikki, the Guru's main bitch. Anna had described her perfect.

Anna had described the other two Whores as well. They were the Dollmakers. Nasty bitches with spider eyes. I sensed their sex sick Souls spinning patterns as they took in my every inch.

I sniffed the rim of the flute Nikki had held out. It smelled clean. I filled the flute, took it, then gave her the bottle.

"When do I get my gun back? You guys are screwy." I looked to the Dollmakers and scoffed out with my arms. They sneered me back and opened the rest of the bottles as I had but smoother.

"You don't," croaked the King. "I like the gun."

"Six bottles of Krug." I checked a label. "'71 Mesnil. And my gun... I choose first."

"We're not here for the girls." The King leaned forward to remove his dark glasses. "We're here for..."

The door opened. The guns did Not fly out. I turned to see him.

He was Fucking tall.

Anna handed the Guru his flute as he glided into the room. He stepped right up to and over me. He took a sip of my Krug and savored it as he smiled down at me.

"What took you so long, Nick?"

"Nothing took me long at all. This is all short for me. Who the Fuck is Nick?"

"You are." He took another sip. "Nick."

I whopped him in the crotch with all my fist had. I grabbed his flute as he buckled, prior he could spill my Krug. I lifted his groin with my foot and he went down. I kicked him onto his back, drained his flute into his mouth then shut his jaw with my heel until he coughed my Krug through his nose, choked the rest down and passed out.

"I am Not..." I drained my flute. "And Fuck You!" I held out my flute for a refill.

The King loved it. He ripped out with the laugh Fucking hard. I thought his larynx would shred. His mobsters joined in. Sinatra kept crooning.

Anna made to refill my flute. Nikki was on the floor caring for the Guru. The Dollmakers glared me spite from against the walls.

"You'll do, baby. Let's go." Anna and I strolled out the door.

E

We made it smooth and easy down the hall to the back stairs. We climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. Fast. But Not too fast.

Anna's room topped the back of the building. It was farthest from the street. We soon reached it. She produced her skeleton key and opened the door. We entered and she locked us in.

I snapped open Anna's Switchblade and went to work on the door's lockplate. I usually worked it from the other side when I'd slip into Onyx in the wee hours to switch her weapon for mine. It was our signal I'd arrived.

"What did you slip him?" I removed the door knob and popped off the lock plate. Anna rested her chin on my shoulder from behind.

"Got it from the Mayor's Vet. Same stuff they slip Tigers when they check their colons at the Zoo." Her voice purred my neck.

"That's my girl." I reached into the lock cavity and pulled out my Cast Iron Knuckles... Then reassembled the door lock stuff fast.

I slid on my Knuckles. Returned Anna her still open Switchblade. Then drew her in close. We kissed like there was no next second.

"Nobody else." She whispered into my mouth.

"I know."

"Just you."

"Only you, Anna, only you." We kissed but more. Like first drink on regaining paradise. Like finding True Love Thought Lost. Like always.

There was a polite cough from other side of the room. I spun Anna behind me and made for the cough. I stopped. It was Young Chinese again. He said:

"We must hurry."

"Where." I stood back to rewrap my arms about Anna.

"There is much to see." Young Chinese was a shadow on the wall.

"Am I coming back?"

"Not to this room."

"She's coming with us."

"No, I am not."

I looked to Anna. It was dangerous for me to disappear and leave her compromised. I told her So... She told me back:

"It's bad, baby. There's no time to lose. You can't go back out that door." She looked me deep. She usually looked me deep only when we were real close.

"The Kid." She stood to me. "It's serious." She held my shoulders. "You saved me." Her eyes were deep into mine. "All this was extra time for me. I thought I'd wasted most of it."

She kissed me. But tender. "Save him and I've wasted nothing." She clasped me. "Save him." Our hearts belted together. "Then get your ass back here and save me again."

She looked past me to under her bed. "Save the world. It's that bad, baby. You'll see. Go. Go now." She shoved me to the shadow.

The shadow and I slid under her bed. We opened the trap door and left the room. I'd be back fast as I could no matter what door I used.

I followed the shadow of Young Chinese through the insides of the building. I knew the way. Then I followed him through a way I did Not know.

He led me. To a second level basement. We were in a fresh cut wall pressing against another wall. He quietly slid a panel to reveal a peep hole. I steadied myself to the hole and peered in.

It was tough going. It was damned dark in the room. Then it was too damn bright. A what for Fuck sight met my poor eye. And how.

The hole was right above what I could make of a bed through the damn blinding light. I heard bulbs start to blow about the room.

A woman spat out: "Shit!" I heard her jump off the bed and run to the wall. I heard the sound of a switch being thrown. I then only had but a second.

She was naked. And hot as Hell. Not only hot looking. But sweating like she was in Hell. Her back was to me. Which was fortunate. She and I would have been eye to eye.

She was Fucking busy. Atop a Fucking bed. A bed covered with hot naked women. Beneath them squirmed a hot naked male... But a Kid.

... The Kid.

Shadow of Young Chinese slid the peep hole closed. But Not before I saw an eery glass case. On the other side of that Fucking room.

The Kid screamed: "SAVE ME!"

Light reached through the cracks of the closed peephole. Shadow Young Chinese hauled me away. We ran sideways through the walls like Ninja Rats.

I asked: "What the Fuck was that?" As we came to a door.

"End of the World. Unless you can stop It." He opened the door.

"The case. The woman in the case?"

"The bait of the end of the World." Shadow Chinese shoved me through the door. "Go to the bar. Use the bait. Save the boy."

I two stepped for balance as I spun through the door.

The voice of Shadow Chinese echoed behind me: "Save the World."

Like I had yet to Fucking get It...

F

I entered a basement. It was the basement for the Grill. I ran up the stairs and into the kitchen. The cooks did Not even bother to stop doing nothing. I walked out of the kitchen. And into the bar.

The bar had been built in the Thirties. It was solid wood denial of The Depression. It had worn well. But had Not been maintained.

Bronze barstools arose from brass footrails. They supported blue velvet ass pads. A solid mahogany bar top fronted the Depression glass mirrored back bar... It was well stocked with brown liquor.

I let my Knuckles slide into my pants pocket and stepped up to the only man at the bar. It was the Bruce. He put down his whiskey and sniffed for my direction:

"You must be Nick Turner."

'I am Not."

"Right. Have a drink, Nick?"

"Not." I stepped close to the Bruce. And slid my Knuckles back on in my fancy pants.

"I'll have yours." The Bruce motioned to the barkeep. Another whiskey was poured. I decided to risk the bait:

"She's in a glass case."

Quicker than lightning the Bruce's walking stick had a knife out its tip struck through my shiny shoe and into the floor.

I let my Knuckles slide back into my pants and grabbed the Bruce's hand on top of his stick. I helped him hold it steady in my foot.

"Where?" His dead eyes stared Death into mine.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

My other hand caught his fist as it whirled for my head. There we were, holding hands.

"The Kid is with her."

"Where?"

"Why is the Kid with her?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

We relaxed our hands. The Bruce went back to his whiskey. I lifted his stick from my foot, found the switch, got rid of the blade and returned him the knife stick. My shiny shoe oozed toe Blood as the Bruce spoke into his whiskey.

"The Kid is the 'special' son."

"Of who?"

"The Guru."

"And?"

"My Wife. That's why he's got them together."

"The Guru's a sick Fuck."

"Aren't we all."

"I'll take that drink." The Bruce motioned. Whiskey was poured. It was damned Good.

"But why together? What's with all the Fucking?"

"Sonny Gem stole a pot of gold fire from wee one's rainbow. Smart enough to keep secret spot secret. The Guru thinks he can fuck it out of him."

"Why in front of his dead Mother?"

"You Saw?" His big fist twitched. I steadied myself. The fist resigned itself to a gesture. More whiskey was poured.

"Enough fucking, enough morphine, maybe the Kid will believe his power can bring her back. Maybe he'll teach others to help." The Bruce drank everything in front of him, including mine.

"The Kid must be 22."

"Yep." He motioned for more whiskey.

"When did you last Love your Wife?"

The Light went on in the darkness. The Bruce put it all together. I slid on my Knuckles and clocked him cold. I downed his whiskey.

My ass what Shadow Chinese said. I was going back to Anna's room.

I strode back through the kitchen and opened door to the basement. Shadow Chinese was waiting for me atop the stairs. He had a purse.

"Go back to your rooms, not hers."

I swung my Knuckles for him. I stopped. He had stuck shortboy45 up my nose.

"Now, through the bar. You are wasting time."

He shoved the purse into my Knuckled hand.

"She saved these for you. Do not waste what she is paying for now. Hurry."

I pocketed my Knuckles and cradled her purse in both hands. Shadow Chinese holstered my gun and slipped the package into the small of my back.

"I will do what I can for her. Hurry."

I clutched Anna's purse. I looked to Shadow Chinese. He was gone.

I shook Blood off my shiny shoe onto the brass footrail of the bar as I exited the Grill. The nasty bitches would gather my Blood and make with the Dolls. I hoped they would.

I must have nasty Blood. But Blood and Destiny are bitches differed. And the Dollmakers would Not know. I Hoped I did.

G

Within five minutes I was entering Base. I entered from a second floor window of the old bakery abutting the Landlord's building.

The whole way back to Base I had thought of nothing but Anna and her Ass. Sure... Anna was first in line the day God gave out Ass.

But there was more to It than just God given Ass.

Anna's Ass was the known mystery holding the key to the whole Job.

Anna's Ass has Mojo. What the Fuck did Mojo have to do with It?

Mojo held the key to how the Kid was being Fucked. And what they were trying to Fuck out of him.

They were Not trying to Fuck the Mojo out of him and mysteriously absorb his power. They were trying to Fuck him till he coughed up The Secret.

The Secret is the grinding point of Mojo power. The Kid was wise too soon to what It was and how to wield It. They were trying to Fuck the wisdom right out of him.

What a bunch of idiots. You cannot Fuck wisdom out of a Kid. They were going to kill him. But what if they did Not? What if the Kid coughed up The Secret?

The Cardinal knew: We could Not take such a Risk. And I agreed.

The Destiny of Human Being was at Stake.

Human Being is what for complex. And how...

Let's break it down to...

... But first some words for the critic.

I can Feel your crippled mind struggling its ossified Soul Rust from right here on this Fucking page. Where I am Not. You Hack.

I capitalize certain words mid sentence. At times I do Not. What for? It's how a work such as this differentiates between regular and 'special' meaning. Do you find this condescending? Perhaps a bit jarring... You sniveling, weak minded... Fuck you.

Spoon fed easy prose, you may even Think it is bad grammar.

But it is Not grammar. You Petty Bourgeois Hack! It's called Style. And sometimes it's referred to as: Voice of an Author.

As when said Author has something to say.

And I say unto you: Will your head out of your ass. It's been there so damn long. Your own ossified shit smells good to you.

But I digress...

Let's break it down to Four: Corpse. Web. Soul. And Spark.

People blather about Corpse as if it were God. It is Not.

Willing Beings unimaginable figured Corpse of finest Dust Imaginable. They deserve the reverence devoted to Corpse.

Corpse is ultimately a sack of Dust actively sustained of Web.

People should blather somewhat about Web sustaining Life. They do Not.

Web is an Ethereal Phantom woven into Dust. Web sustains Life of Corpse. Feeling Beings figured Web of their own Cosmic Fire. Web combined of Soul sustains Images Living Remembered.

Web is ultimately a sustaining Phantom actively combined of Soul.

People blather about Soul as if they knew what it was. They do Not.

Thinking Beings figured Soul of their combined Current. Soul is Astral driven Current. It combines Cognition. Soul rectified of Spark combines Cognition as Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

Soul is ultimately combined Cognition actively rectified of Spark.

People blather as if Spark were a lie. They should Not.

Spark is Human Being. Human Beings possess Spark of God. Spark of God is Borne on Earth by Human Beings. It is basic to my people's Faith. It was what for we had been so long at odds with the Roman Church. And how...

The Roman Church had denied Human Being's possession of Spark in the Ninth Century. They had their own reasons. My people opposed them for ours. It had resulted in much slaughter, repression and persecution for my people.

Fatima was the turning point. The Roman Church backed off. Others hate us still for their own reasons. And how we oppose them still.

My people had rebuilt our Monastery thirty three years ago as living Temple of our Faith and some Fanatic burnt it down. My Parents fried to Death battling flames and I strayed from the Monastery. Lost my Soul for Wickedness. The Cardinal found me.

He redeemed my Soul. Reconciled me to my Spark... But I digress.

Spark ultimately rectifies Soul actively combining Cognition aspected as Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

How people blather about Thinking, Feeling and Willing. They do Not understand.

Thinking, Feeling and Willing Beings figured aspects Willing, Feeling and Thinking out of Soul itself.

Thinking is combining aspect of Cognition for Soul.

Feeling is combining aspect of Cognition for Web.

Willing is combining aspect of Cognition for Corpse.

They all are combining aspects of Cognition for Spark of God Borne on Earth by Human Beings.

And what does any of this have to with Mojo?

Mojo is Spark rectified Soul Thinking, Feeling and Willing combining Remembered Living Images Web sustained in Corpse.

Sounds dull when I put it like that. Does it Not?

But Mojo is Not dull. Mojo tides most in Ass: Due to how Web is woven in Corpse. Nowhere is it woven more tiding than in Anna's.

Anna is Not just any Whore. Onyx is Not just any Whorehouse. Anna is a Temple Prostitute. Onyx is a Temple of Prostitution.

The Life of a Temple Prostitute is all ritualistic vitalization of Corpse Images Living Remembered of Web Willed, Felt and Thought of Soul. Yet it is all Prostitution of Spark.

To be with, let alone Sleep with, forget about Fuck with a Temple Prostitute is galvanizing rite of vital rejuvenation. Thus Temple Prostitutes are constantly demanded of Assholes who corrupt their Souls and estrange their Sparks by repressing others and Stealing for themselves... Then atop it all want to Live forever.

What does all this have to do with the Kid and how they had been Fucking him?

The force of Spark acts of Soul Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

The Secret is contained in the aspect of Soul that is Willing.

The Secret is the grinding point where Willing of Soul crosses to Remembrance of Web... And much force of Spark is galvanized there.

There galvanized, Spark evolves The Secret. Humanity will Not be prepared to wield It until Grace of God evolves us to Destiny as Angelic Beings of Freedom and Love in Service to The Christ.

There was the crux of what danger the Kid posed: He was wise too soon to the grinding point and how to wield It.

Scientists claim a Human Being has such force within to light a City for three days. That's a completely grossed understatement.

The force of Spark at the grinding point. Force of God unleashed prematurely onto our plane... A hydrogen bomb to that is nothing.

Look at the Fucking mess we made of that.

The Mark and his people wanting that force. The King and his people wanting It as well. The Guru pimping It... For Hell!

That force taught to others and wielded by Selfindulgent, Hindering, Unscrupulous peddlers of Sickness and Death?

It would be short order annihilation of Earth and Humanity.

It would alter the course of Human Beings from our Destiny as Angelic Beings of Freedom and Love in Service to The Christ.

It would be counter to The Christ. It would be Antichrist.

That then was my Job despite what I was paid for and hired to do.

Save the Kid. Redeem his Soul. Reconcile him to his Spark. Help him understand what for and how It's called The Secret.

Killing him would Not do. The Kid could come back in a Future incarnation and still Not understand.

Selfindulgent, Hindering, Unscrupulous peddlers of Sickness and Death would be waiting for him.

He had to be saved and his Soul Redeemed. He had to understand prior to his Death.

He had to cross threshold of Death reconciled to his Spark. Only then could he withstand before The Hosts. They could help him to teach Humanity in Future what for and how It's called The Secret.

It will be eons from now prior we are ready to wield It.

All that and Anna's Ass were piling through my mind as I crossed from the old bakery to Base. The Cardinal was waiting there with Norma ducktaped to a chair.

H

I had learned all about Mojo by way of the Cardinal. He had given me a strange book after he found me. It had shocked me deeply and depressed me afterwards for a long, long Time...

Norma was blindfolded.

I did the handshake with the Cardinal. And whispered into his ear.

"What the hell is your name, anyway?" I had never prior asked him.

"You may call me by the name you have already given me." It was dark. But I saw him smile in a strange manner.

"What the hell is she doing here?" I thumbed to Norma.

"You are going to need help." He handed me Norma's camera bag.

I hefted the bag. I could sense them in there.

Norma was shaking. I turned on a light. Then opened Anna's purse. It was stuffed full of silk wrapped vials. Each vial was labeled.

They were all there: The Mark, the King, the Guru and the Kid.

"Are you staying for the fun?" I looked up. The Cardinal was gone. There was a knock from the Landlord's door. I answered. For Young Chinese. Again... Damn, he was fast.

"Yes?"

"My father sent me to offer any assistance you may require."

I looked into Young Chinese. Could he be? Yes, he was a Son I had saved for the Landlord fifteen years prior. He was but one of the Sons. Shadow Chinese was his Twin at Onyx.

"Have you heard from your Brother?"

"Not yet."

I gave him the camera bag.

"Would you please have these developed and prevent her from leaving? I will return soon." Young Chinese bowed away calm.

I exited Base by another window and made for the nearest Western Union. I usually used one or another farther from Base.

I sent an encrypted message to William. He was to arrive with Two, whose numbers I called, within two days. I usually called for One but feared another was called for. William would Not fail. He did Not Fuck around and was punctual as Hell.

Young Chinese was waiting for me when I returned to Base. He had the pictures. My first impression of the Twins was correct. They were, indeed, fast.

"Thank you. That will be all for now. Extend my appreciation to your Father and would you please return with news when you have heard from your Brother?"

"I will bring news directly the moment he returns."

"Thank you." We bowed eachother. He departed. I turned for Norma.

"This is going to hurt."

I ripped the ducktape off her mouth. She spat. I told her to wait still till I got her out of the chair. The Cardinal had taped her well. I wasted ten minutes ripping her loose.

I rubbed her limbs to restore circulation. Then removed the blindfold from behind her. She stood. And turned to face me.

"You are free to go." I gestured an arm for the door.

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?"

"The Devil."

"I am Not." I went to the door and opened it for her.

"Why am I here?" She rubbed her arms and looked around.

"Is this Not where you wanted to be?"

"Yes."

"You're free to go." I opened the door wider.

"No."

"I am Not stopping you."

"I am."

"You are."

"Yes."

"And I am Not." I backed away from the door.

"Why was I brought here then?"

"What happened to your brother?"

"Overdose."

"I'm so sorry."

"I had time with him." She approached. "Thank you." She got close. "Who did I kill?"

"Do you really want to know" She nodded. "You do Not want to walk out that door and Not burden your Soul with finding out? Knowing?"

"No." She backed off. "You're not afraid of me finding out?"

"I am Not."

"Exposure?"

"I am Not."

"Who the fuck are you?"

I approached her.

"Norma, I am Not. Go to the next room. Open the cupboard. Pull twelve boxes. Unwrap the contents and separate them into four."

"Why?"

"You do Not give a Fuck who I Am! What you want to know is what I do and how. You're going to find out. You're here to help and for God knows what. You can Fucking write whatever you want. Nobody's going to believe a Fucking word. Nobody wants to know who Fucking anyone Is! They want to Judge their Fucking selves by What others do! And Fucking if they're Fucking curious how!"

I had Not realized I was talking so damned loud. And in her face. Journalists are snake charmers. For Fucking words. I had brooded about such shit for years... And Not wasted a Fucking word on it.

"Come on." I led Norma. To the next room. "This is the kitchen."

I

Base appeared to be empty. But was Not. My effects were stashed away in the walls. Underneath floor boards. And in the cupboard.

Norma pulled twelve boxes of bee's wax from the cupboard. It's from our hives at the Monastery. There are a lot of bees there.

We assembled the kitchen in an hour. Four parts wax were in four double boilers on vintage hotplates. We stopped and drank tea. I produced tobacco. And Life Dust. I started to roll them together. Norma tried a question:

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That pink powder?"

"Life Dust."

"life dust?"

"Life Dust." I licked the paper sealed. "In a Stick." I spun my Zippo and lit up. "A plant alkaloid heightening actions between sack of Dust that is Corpse and Web of Life that sustains it."

I passed her the Stick. She hesitated.

"... what the hell does that mean?"

I told her. We did the Stick. She did Not know what to say. I rolled another. She still did Not know what to say. She tried another question:

"What's with the wax?"

"Voodoo Dolls."

"shit."

I sparked the next Stick. Then emptied Anna's purse onto the kitchen table.

"Sperm, hair, Blood and nail clippings. We're going to use your photos and make Dolls of those Fucking Hacks."

"And stick pins in them? Doesn't seem like you."

"What do you know about me?"

"Not a thing."

"How long have you been..."

"I have not."

"When did your brother die?"

"Five months ago."

"You're fast."

"Felmont was obvious. He fucking did it."

"He'll pay."

"How much?"

"An assload but Not that. He'll really pay."

"But he ran for it with his daughter."

"Sure." We finished the Stick. "Pins in Dolls are bullshit. The Doll is a fulcrum. The vital fluids, soft and hard, are Threads. They're tools of Investigation."

"I thought they were bullshit."

"'Phychic Weapons' can be sent down Threads but that's nasty, iffy shit. Fuckhead magicians set up animals to take the Return Blow of shit sent down Threads that comes back. I don't have Time to waste on such crap."

There was a knock at the door. It was Young Chinese. He entered. And informed me:

"I received word from His Eminence that payment is secure. He awaits your Judgement and is ready to receive next payment."

I thanked Young Chinese and expressed my good thoughts for his Brother's safe return.

Another payment? I thought one billion was good. Apparently a new hire for the same... I had feared correct. Another was called for.

I told Norma: "The bathroom's next." She followed me there.

We assembled the bathroom in half an hour and returned to the kitchen table. I had Norma arrange what she thought were best photos of the King while I softened the first batch of wax. I mixed some Life Dust into the wax. The wax mix was soon ready.

I went to work on the mix.

I solicited Norma's input. Did she Think the attitude of forehead was correct? Were spine and arm to leg ratios correct? I answered few questions. No, no hair. No, no clothes. No, Not exact details, only essential ones.

An hour later we agreed: The Doll captured the King's Spark. We returned to the bathroom. I placed the Doll and Anna's vials of the King with a black silk by the tub. I had Norma draw the tub hot as she could stand. I lit candles to barely light the room.

I stripped down. Got in the tub. Norma could stand a lot of heat.

"I'm going to drop into a trance. When I hold out my hand, give me the Doll. Then look only at the Doll. Do Not blink unless you have to. Do Not make a Fucking noise."

I was soon ready. She handed me the Doll. I warmed it up in the water and curved my fingers to open its gut. I lifted it out to drain the insides and filled it with Anna's vials. I sealed the Doll back to shape in the water. I did Not blink.

I raised the Doll out of the water with my right hand and held my left out to Norma.

"Give me that black silk."

She handed it over. I wrapped the Doll and placed it in her hands. I pulled plug on the tub and toweled off as it drained. I stuffed the towel into a linen bag and got out of the tub.

"Follow me."

I lead Norma up two flights to the top floor. The Moon flooded through the skylight. There was a silverplated lead lined Safe there. It glowed in the Moonlight. I put the Doll inside.

"Back to the bath."

We scrubbed the tub out together.

"Now strip down."

"What?"

"Do it. We have to shower off in cold water, scrub the tub again and do three more tonight. It's faster if we shower together."

Norma looked at me as she should have.

"And the water here is cold as Fuck. Don't worry."

Norma and her look were right. It was Not faster to shower together. It was closer. But closer was the point.

Web exists within and just beyond Corpse. A cold shower causes Web to rapidly retreat just within Corpse. When cold water ceases, Web rapidly advances to just beyond its previous boundary. A hot water bath is similar though opposite.

The point for showering together was that rapid advance. Our Webs would intermingle. Our Images Living Remembered would intermingle. Our Thinking, Feeling and Willing could intertwine and our Sparks meet.

Norma knew I was full of shit. But did Not know how. She stripped down and did it anyway.... Norma's got backbone alright.

In relatively no Time, we did the Mark then the Kid and finally the Guru. We captured the Guru's Spark best of all. That's what for and how I had saved him for last.

We finished just before sunrise. We were exhausted and clean as Fuck. The linen bag was in the tub. We sat at the kitchen table for tea and another Stick.

"Now we Sleep."

"Thank God."

"Together."

"oh fuck you... That's Enough!"

"It is Not!" I lit the Stick. "In same bed. At same time. Dropping off together. Waking up together. No cuddly shit." I put the Stick to her mouth. "Smoke more of this shit. It helps."

"Fuck you." She woofed deep off the Stick.

"We'll Sleep Fucking weird. When we wake up, we compare dreams." She put the Stick to my face. "You'll know what and how. We've lots more to do." I woofed the Stick done. "I"m a Monk, by the way."

"A bad fucking monk."

"Bet your skinny ass."

We went to bed. I taught Norma how to go backwards from where she lied through her day. It's similar to an anesthesiologist telling you to count backwards from 100.

I felt bad about Norma. She still knew I was full of shit but still did Not know how. Sleeping together was still necessary. Closer was still the point.

Soul and Spark can endure only so much of Images Lived Remembered in this Fucking cesspool we call a World. They depart as you fall Asleep. But they do remain connected to Web and Corpse, through a tenuous Current.

Soul spirals through Cosmos... As high as your Thinking, Feeling and Willing awake allow.

Spark ascends of Angels observed of Archangels to highest Soul allows to be Redeemed of The Hosts. Everyone's journey differs.

Soul and Spark then return through the tenuous Current to reunite with Web and Corpse. Sometimes the return is a heavy one. And you bounce awake where you lie.

The point of Sleeping together was that spiral ascent. Our Souls would intertwine. Our Sparks would ascend together. It would Not matter the spirals would differ. Our Sparks would still be close in ascent. And closer still as we awoke.

J

Norma and I bounced awake sometime after noon. She was disturbed. I was as well but accustomed to it. We compared dreams. And they were similar. That was good.

In our dreams the King was a baby. He reached and cried for things he could Not grasp. Things his baby perspective had wrong. Like an infant reaches for a full Moon. Then wails when it cannot grab it.

I dreamt of the Mark as an insect sitting upon a pile of feces. He was warming it with his fat belly while eating insect eggs dug out from the rotting layers beneath.

Norma dreamt of him as a dragon pissing acid on its pile of treasure until treasure transmuted into worthless corrosion.

I dreamt of the Kid as an orphic goat. Lucifer had lit the empty cavity of his frontal Skull. Flames revealed the netherworld and the sight filled the Kid with immeasurable dread.

Norma dreamt of the Kid as a god of gold on fire melting in pain.

We both dreamt of the Guru as a blister sore in the shape of a long eared donkey with an aching train of hemorrhoids Bleeding from out its ass.

I made Norma drink an enormous amount of water with me. We washed the bedsheets. Then she cleaned the kitchen while I scrubbed down the bathroom. By 2:00 PM we had showered, eaten some exotic fruit Young Chinese had left us, and were heading for the next floor up.

Young Chinese had still Not received word from his Twin Brother.

The entire second floor sets up as a surgical room. We had it set up by 9:00PM. It still needed cleaning. We went downstairs to get something to eat.

Just then Young Chinese knocked on the door. He had received news from his Twin Brother in Onyx. There was only one message: Hurry.

Shadow Chinese had sent me a silk box. It was small. It held only Anna's Switchblade and the keys to her '69 Coupe de Ville. It was Not a good sign. The Moon would wax full within twenty nine hours.

Young Chinese left us with Lotus Cakes and tea from next door.

Norma and I returned to the top floor after Lotus Cakes and tea. I got the Dolls out from the safe. We stared at them under Moonlight for hours. We burned a lot of Sticks then showered and fell Asleep by 4:00AM.

Fuck cleaning the surgical room. I would have to act the next day.

We bounced at 11:00 AM. It was the eleventh and the moon would be full that night. The 'occult' day starts at 6:00 PM. I would have to be ready by then.

I had slept with Anna's Switchblade and keys. In my dreams her body was scattered for the Moon. But held together by a Thread.

Norma and I staggered to the kitchen. We were downing water when it dawned on me: I had Not set up the stereo. Nor listened to my records. There would be no Time. Touching my favorite record and recalling all the peace it had brought me would have to do.

I left Norma in the kitchen smoking a Stick. She sat overwhelmed with her forehead in her hand. But she smoked with determination.

I headed for the top floor. A shock awaited me there. William had arrived. But with Four. Not Two.

"Welcome back to the City, gentlemen." The words just flowed from my lips. I regretted them the moment they were out.

The Four sat silent on the sofa. It's never easy for any of them to return to Base and the City. At least, for pity's sake, I had Not shaved. I rarely let any of them see themselves clean shaven.

They know what we look like... That's hard enough.

William allowed a smile. William is charismatic. And kind. You would Not know just how charismatic he is upon meeting him. It dawns on you. And one day you realize: He is probably the most charismatic man you have ever met.

Charisma is certainly Mojo. But in William it is pure. And kind.

William had set up the stereo and arranged my records. I was damn grateful but it did Not explain how he had arrived in the City so damned fast. I had wired him but thirty six hours prior. It takes longer to bring the usual One. Let alone Two... Forget about Four.

Base has two sets of stairs leading to and from the top floor. I assumed William had Not lead the Four through the set that leads through the second floor surgical room. So I addressed the Four:

"You may go down the way you came up."

The Four descended by the set of stairs that lead directly to the kitchen. I wondered what Norma would make of the Four. Especially No47.

William and I did the handshake.

"That was fast." I stated a question.

"You in trouble fast?" He questioned a statement.

Stating questions and questioning statements is a what for inside joke between William and I. It's also how William and I talk fast.

"Your favorite?" He stood before my records.

"Modern Jazz Quartet, Django."

He put it on soft. It was heaven. We sank into the sofa.

William questioned another statement: "You wired?"

"Thirty six hours ago."

"The Cardinal wired before you were five miles away?"

"The Cardinal." I stated the question flat.

"Yes?" William produced a Stick.

"Four ordered." I handed him my Zippo.

"Too many?" He lit the Stick.

"Don't know."

"She here?" He passed it over.

"That's how No47." I hit hard off the Stick. "No38 was my fear."

"Justified?"

"Yes." I passed him the Stick.

"Shit." William stared at the Stick. He knew No38 being justified was no joke to me. "What for... He knew?"

"And how." I took the Stick. And hit it hard again.

"What's with No11 and No22?" William took the Stick and hit it hard himself.

"Can't tell."

"The Landlord will make No11?"

"Probably."

"What now?" William stubbed the Stick's butt.

"Enjoy this side. Get a move on after."

We did. It was heaven. Then we made plans.

Norma would have to leave. I told her to enter Onyx Restaurant at 5:51PM sharp.

William prepared the Four. He cut their hair. Then shaved and dressed them. They had to be dressed particularly.

I opened the safe. I had vials of my own. They were of Blood and hair I had collected from the Cardinal when I had questioned him so damned cruel just a few days prior.

I got out wax and made the Doll fast. I had planned for years what I would make of that Doll and how. I made it and did more than Not blink. I Concentrated for what... Harder than I ever had. And how.

Then I locked it away, cleaned myself and shaved. William cut my hair after he finished grooming the Four. I dressed particularly then headed out the door.

I had pocketed Anna's Switchblade, her keys, a fat wad of cash, shortboy45, an assload of Life Dust. And my Cast Iron Knuckles.

I entered Onyx Restaurant at 6:00 PM sharp.

K

I scanned the seats. Norma was late. I scanned the floor.

I hated that place.

Absolute black granite floors. Nickelplated short stools for seats. Absolute black granite table tops. Nickelplated table bases. No table settings. Nazi utility grey walls. Lights as focused spots on tables. And nothing else.

The Jerks came for nothing else. They came for the Whores. The Whores worked the floor. They worked it alright. Dolled up for sex. Strutting about in uniforms as minimal as the floor decor.

I checked stations. The Dollmakers worked the bar. Nikki, greedy Whore, hogged the whole floor to herself. She exposed me her ass as she bent over to deliver a drink to a table. I headed for the table. Nikki split for another.

I stood over the Jerk sitting at the table Nikki had split from. He was a Trust Funded Prick too busy ogling Whore ass to notice me. So I fingered his overpriced vodka to his edge of the table.

"I have urgent business." I was direct. "And I'll pick up your tab." I was even a touch... Civilized. "Would you please leave."

"Get your own table." He was dismissive... "Freak." His Trust Funded fingers daintily lazed for his glass of tasteless shit.

What an asshole.

I snapped open Anna's Switchblade and slid the drink onto his lap. He jolted up to gawk at his soaking crotch. I placed the point of Anna's Switchblade to between his eyes.

"Sharp idea." He did Not get the irony. His eyes did get comic big on the point. "Freak out." He did. And Fast. Right out the door. I swapped his stool for a dry one and sat myself.

Nikki and the Dollmakers surrounded me. Their hands were on their hips. The Dollmakers stared poison at me. Nikki smiled Blood with her big red lips. She bit her bottom one as she blew me the words:

"You're Fucked."

"Call for Muscle." I tossed my wad of cash onto the table. "That's for six Krug Mesnil from the other night, the one I want now and a dozen xxx ooo Belons." I slid the wad her way. "Move your groove."

Nikki snatched the wad and strutted off. The Dollmakers backed to their bar. I gazed about the floor. The Jerks all avoided my gaze. Fuck them. I was all dressed up for the Job.

I dress particularly for a Job: Hair tight to Skull with enough on top for part; American Optics squared Jet Fighter Shades; Dark Red Silk around neck; White Pocket Tee Shirt; Ebony with silver Rosary of my people; Black Dickies 874 Workingman's pants; Black Cop Belt with silver Crucifix Buckle; Vostok Amphibian Officer Watch; Black Doc Marten's 1919 steel toed boots.

I could appear normal... Until I donned the Masonic Frock Coat.

I Love Masonic Frock Coats. They are of darkest charcoal flannel with 'Nehru' collar and satin covered buttons. They have pleated tails with secret pockets inside. My wad of cash had been in one of the pockets. My ass load of Life Dust was still in the other.

I did Not realize the Bruce had arrived until my steel toe stopped his knife stick. Fuck him. I swiped the stick from him and got rid of the knife.

"Haven't found her yet." I returned it into his chest. "Have you."

The Bruce tried to grab me by the Frock Coat. He could Not. It fit tight. And Masonic flannel is slick as Hell. He settled for my arm and hoisted away.

Norma had finally arrived at the entrance for Onyx Restaurant. I slipped Anna's keys into the back pocket as the Bruce and I flew by on our way to Onyx Whorehouse.

I broke free of the Bruce in the Onyx doorway. I slammed his back against the wall to block the camera's view. And stuck shortboy45 into his mouth.

"You'll never get her back unless you stay by my sorry ass."

I slipped my Knuckles and Anna's Switchblade into his coat pocket.

"It's Time to Put Back in the World all the Good you've Taken."

I placed shortboy45 into his hand. Then told him: "Let's do this."

I rang the bell. He slipped on my Knuckles. And clocked me cold.

L

The King was laughing at me when I came to in the Whoreroom. He was slurping my oysters and sipping my Krug. That skipping toad laugh rasped my Skull. Soothing tones of the Nat King Cole Trio helped from the old Victrola. I tried to speak a little respect.

"Luyk yuhr tayst iun mhusik." Those former Communists had appropriated my Red Silk. And gagged me... Motherfuckers.

The King motioned a pinky for the old Victrola. I focused on the King's pinky. It disappointed me: No pinky ring.

The same Thug as before lumbered for the Victrola. His face still irritated me. It haunted memories. He flipped off the needle. Nat ceased soothing. Irritating Face rejoined the others for pointing guns at me.

They had trussed me to a nickelplated short stool and placed me before the King. There was a new Man at the table seated by the King on the Whorecouch.

He was an old Orthodox Patriarch. He looked more like a vicious Cossack Chieftain. He sat as though his ass were Hell bound for touching Whorevelvet through his robes. His dark eyes smoldered spite from the bottom of his ossified Soul.

The King sucked oyster juice from his fingers and downed more of my Krug. He peered over dark glasses and bounced his naked pinky for me. I focused again on the King's pinky. It was backed up at the wrist by a gaudy watch. I was losing respect for the King.

He finally stopped the Fucking pinky bouncing and said something:

"I've got a job for you."

"Yhuvf ghot mhy ohysthrs ahn Khruhg." The King could Not understand a single word I said. He nudged the Patriarch.

The Patriarch came for me like the smoldering Czarist Moses he Thought himself to be. He snapped the gag knot off my Red Silk then ripped it from my Skull and slapped it into my chest. His hand paused there. He had felt my Rosary.

The Rosary of my people is 'special'.

His eyes went from Hellfire to Blood. He tore my Tee Shirt in rage over my people's Rosary. He broke it from my neck and hurled it to my feet then smote my Skull with all the force of an ancient Icon.

I would Not go under for that shit. I turned the other cheek for him and waited. The Patriarch smoldered above me. With his right hand raised for a lie.

My mouth was filled of Blood from his vicious rip and smoldering blow. I spat it all onto Irritating Face's cheap shoe and looked from my Blood for the selfrighteous Fuck. I locked his eyes into mine. And told him:

"Thou Shalt Not Steal Love, Nor Deny Golgotha... Pharisee."

That's what for The Ten Commandments of all the Traitor Churches. And how it's summed up. As The Eleventh Commandment of my people.

The Patriarch bit the back of his thumb, sucked out Blood and spat it all into my face. He finally dropped his sanctimonious ass back onto the Whorecouch.

The King removed his glasses. And looked from the Patriarch to me.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll add the food and drink to your bill. Let's hear it."

I had heard it all before: He was so worried. He did Not know where else to turn. He was at wit's end.

His Son had gone astray and stolen Sacred White Russian Shamanic Wisdom from the Patriarch's Hermitage. He had fled Mother Russia for fear and shame. He had fallen prey to the Guru. Had weakened to sell out to these Capitalist Pigs.

He wanted his Son back. He wanted to take his Son back to Mother Russia. He wanted to reconcile his Son to the Patriarch. His Son and the Sacred White Russian Shamanic Wisdom would then be saved. He wanted to hire me.

It was hilarious.

I laughed so hard I puked when Irritating Face gut slugged me with all the brutality of Stalin's rule. It finally dawned me: His Face looked just like Stalin's. It made me wonder as I went under.

I told the King what it would cost him: The Certain Chapel with contents dismantled and shipped to a port on the Black Sea. The Patriarch's face molded to ash.

The King was Not laughing as I went under.

M

I came back up like an iceberg released from the ocean's floor.

My eyes breached their sockets by a third. My pupils were full throttled for wide exposure. My sinuses were coated with sweet sticky paste. My lungs burned with peach blossom fire.

I saw an alabaster bowl on an onyx slab just beneath me. The bowl held my Life Dust. And it was a quarter shy of an ass load. I was Fucked. My Skull and lungs were packed with more Life Dust than I take in a Season.

"Christ help me." I lifted my Skull. The Guru stood before me. The Bruce was by his side.

"Help yourself." The Guru replied in that fake innocent lilt arrogant Fucks adopt to condescend from a presumed advantage.

I looked around. The Fuckers had tied me to a Cross. They could Not have Fucking offended me any more if they had Fucking tried.

The Guru held a silver cylindrical ladle half an inch wide and an inch deep. It was heaped with Life Dust. He questioned the Bruce:

"Which nostril is working now?"

The Bruce felt under my nose.

"Both." He was right. My nostrils were Blood heated engines burning oxygen like glowing ports on a Jet.

"Good. Use the right one." They stood on the onyx slab. It covered a long silver box. It brought them to my crucified level. The Guru gazed me all fake innocent. Then spoke to me again in that lilt:

"Welcome back, Nick."

Anyone trusting that Fucking lilt is a fool. I said it anyway:

"I am Not."

The Bruce rammed his fist into my solar plexus. I exhaled hard. He clapped one hand over my mouth. He crushed my nose closed with the other. My head heated up like a turbine.

I closed my eyes. The Guru's face burned my aftervision. It had the fake innocent open eyed smooth forehead look arrogant Fucks adopt when they think they've got you right where they want you.

Fuck him.

I felt the Bruce's hand on my mouth. His hand was sweating. My lungs started to combust. I calmed for control of my larynx. I softly hummed to speak from my throat.

"ssstaaay"

The Bruce's hand twitched to a cup. Then paused. I tried again.

"sssstaaaay"

His hand slowly pressed. It flattened against my teeth. My face was bulged hot with Blood and veins. It oozed viscous sweat. My limbs were going cold. My lungs were arctic fire. I had to make him get it:

"ssssstaaaaay"

His middle finger twitched my cheek. He had got it. He released his foreknuckle from my right nostril. And kept my left smashed shut with his thumb. His other hand crushed into my teeth.

The Guru hovered the heaped cylinder beneath my nose. I could Not take a breath. But I had to... I could Not withstand anymore Life Dust than I already had. The Guru rammed my balls.

He had good physical control. The cylinder did Not budge a micron.

Instinct rammed need smacked wide my flattened lungs. Cool air surged in from about my burning Skull. Each speck of Life Dust launched through my nose.

My world burned peach fire bright. I became pink nebulous blue. And expanded like galaxy reflecting. All was white. Then black.

The Guru's face was before me. It hovered as black room eluded contours. All was so silent. Then false innocence lilt smugged from his eyes.

"Yes, you are, Nick."

Fuck him.

"I Am Not." My words sounded from all Space.

I collapsed like dark stars. All became dark blue. Then violet dark blue. Darker purple approached from outside. It condensed center. Then broke off drops to rejoin periphery.

Salt sweat suctioned my face. My body went cool. Cool burned fire to my core. Then to my extremities. My flat lungs tingled menthol fire. They froze to the Bones of my back.

I found the salt sweat. It pressed my cold lips. My larynx was frozen coal. I tried it again:

"mmmummeyye"

The salt popped a space off the cords of my lips. I swallowed a dot of ice air. I tried again... To make it get it:

"mmmmniiiyye"

Salt flat pressed my flat cord lips. Dull point dug massive molar two times big as my Skull. It dotted it dotted. It said it got it.

Twin stars imploded. They surged for columns. They pressed my top open unto cascade of tar. Wind was entirety. Cool blown water was blackness of night.

Night stilled to darkness of shimmering ocean. Moonlight danced the ripples forever. I was Free. Shimmering Moon played on dark surface as far as eye could see.

A voice breached the surface. It disturbed the coolness of contour. It lilted but shattered ugly disturbance in sheen perfection of rippling silver.

"You are dead, Nick."

It Thought itself arrogance unfettered of Consequence. It showed of shimmer contours its truth of malign intent. What Hack wanted so much of nothing? He was nothing. I would tell him:

"I am Not."

It came out so plainly. It restored truth for contour so ruined of false lilt. What remained that seemed so important? How to hum say it? So easy for diamond flower. It had once been my throat.

"aaaaahhhhhsssssssss" It seemed vulgar. What for important? How?

All became pearl mist. It was thick. Light tried to pierce through but could Not. I would walk. But better to Not till it cleared. It did. As I descended. I was back in the dark room.

The Guru and the Bruce removed me from the Cross and placed me in the silver box. They slid the onyx slab over it and left the room. I hovered and I remained over the box as I observed of what to do.

N

I could Not have been dead. There was enough Life Dust in me to pull a cancerous Pachyderm from the brink.

I could sense much. My body was one big organ of sense. Everything was amplified like an enormous acid trip on an enormous acid trip.

A strange hum was in the walls. What was It?

There was a heavy propulsive surge. I was fast in the walls.

I found a wire. It was a thick cloth wrapped type no longer made. I love those things. All that thick copper inside. I followed it.

It was Inert. But there was that hum. And much Light was pressing through the cracks of wall sockets from rooms. I kept on the wire.

I was soon on the street. I was in a box. It was an electrical transformer switch. The switch for the entire block about Onyx.

It was hot crazy subcompress level of unwieldy light. But Not for the connection to Onyx. What was I doing out there? My Corpse was alone and vulnerable in Onyx.

There was another heavy propulsive surge.

I flew wires through plaster back to the silver box and the slab in the black room. I was back with my Corpse. I took in the room.

It was onyx floored with smoked mirror ceiling and walls. A hidden door was in one wall. And Light pressed through despite the hidden cracks in the wall. But that Light was different. It had Volition.

Inert wires. Strange hum. Volitional Light...

It was the Kid. And The Secret. The cheap Fuck Guru was using the Kid. And The Secret. It was powering the whole Fucking Whorehouse.

There was a still cessation. The Light wavered. Then ceased.

A sharp grating disrupted my entire being. A switch had been thrown. There was a crackling sound. It did Not hum. A light flickered through the hidden door cracks. It had no Volition.

It was regular electricity. And it was harsh.

I wondered what next. I remembered my Corpse. There was a huge gravitational pull. I was fast around the silver box. This was ridiculous.

I calmed myself. And backed off the silver box. Then dove back into the box. The door had opened. Harsh light had burned. The door closed. I peered from out of the silver box.

It was the Fucking Dollmakers.

O

Nasty Bitches. I took them in for what they were.

They were dark covetous eyes with long creeping legs and big hot asses. They were reaching arms with thieving claws and they were coming to collect. Their skins were crawling of ravenous spiders.

I sank back into the box. My Corpse needed protection.

I attempted to take myself in. I could Not. I was a shadow cipher of cold Space. I was within myself. But without myself. It served me right.

The onyx slab spun atop the silver box. The slab stopped when it formed a Cross atop the box. With my face exposed above. My legs exposed below.

Dark eyes confronted mine. They clacked words. I could Not make out what she said. But I made out she was a Grabber. She held a grabbing tool in one claw. A cutting tool was in her other claw.

Spiders crept from out her mouth. She stuck the grabbing tool to my head. She had grabbed my hair. The cutting tool cut. She spat spiders. They breached my face. I bent my neck to shake them off.

The other one had crawled into the box. Her mouth bobbed between my legs. She was a Bobber. And an optimist. Nothing was going to come of it after the ramming I had endured... But maybe it would.

A quarter ass load of Life Dust was in my Corpse. That stuff can heal disruptions fast. A vortex grounded in my groin. It torqued with the force of a gyro about to blow free of its socket.

Spiders swarmed from Bobber's mouth. They gorged my groin. They feasted with venom. I tried to crane my neck back into my Skull. My Corpse needed protection. I had to reconnect back into it...

Grabber was behind Bobber. The grabbing tool was in her claw. She stuck it into my foot. And a dull shock sent my foot back into my foot. My leg followed from there. My whole leg was back in. I was coming back into my Corpse.

Bobber kept at it. My other leg was back in. I was about to blow. The other Dollmaker had needle nose pliers on my big toenail. My center was back in. My torso was rolling back into place.

The spiders were gone. It was just the Fucking Dollmakers: Nasty and Bitch. My arms were back in. Nasty's lips were about my base. Her head tugged hard. Bitch smiled sick. As Nasty took it all in the mouth.

My eyes opened. Bitch jerked her shoulder. The pain was Fucking excruciate. Nasty leaped from the box. She victoriously spit my stuff into a... Vial. As Bitch held my toenail aloft in victory.

I dug in with elbows. I went for Nasty and Bitch. I'd show them.

P

Shock of white on black replaced vision. Light shrunk to dark. It popped off. I was an old television signing off. My show was over.

I had clocked myself on the slab. I wondered if Nasty and Bitch had laughed at me. I hated to think of such stupidity wasted. I had a dark laugh of it in the darkness.

The darkness did Not last long. The Mandala Tunnel soon opened.

I had clocked myself critical.

The Mandala Tunnel is the first stage of Death.

I looked up and to the right of the Tunnel's mouth for the latest entry. There I was: Dropping into the box. There were the Fucking Dollmakers: They were laughing. Good. The Tunnel sucked me in...

I hate the Mandala Tunnel. In it you relive your Life backwards. I flew through. And tried to close my eyes. There is no closing eyes for anyone flying through the Tunnel. Thank God the trip is fast.

I was soon alone and shaking in the Nothingness. I was Fucked. I had never made through the whole Tunnel. The next stage of Death is much worse. During it you relive your Life backwards again to experience all the pain you've caused to others as your own. But three Times as intense.

I waited forever. I shook worse with each binding moment. My loneliness was unbearable. I could Not shake the Image of my Parents burning off.

A voice spoke... I was So grateful.

"You are alright." It spoke So certain.

"You've got to be kidding." I felt anything but...

"Everything is alright."

"No, it's Not"

"You have nothing to worry about."

"Sure."

"I know and you need to know what I know."

I knew that statement. It could Not be. But the voice. It was...

"Who is it?" I had to know.

"Your friend, the Cardinal."

I sensed him standing behind me and to my right. I was afraid to look. What if he was Not there? How could I stand it? Left there by myself... Alone.

"It is alright. Look."

I turned. He was with me. In the Nothingness... Thank God.

"Who are you?" I felt So ungrateful asking him.

"Look closer."

I did. I could see more. Yes... And he was quite a sight.

He was a huge Zenith 1900 pocket watch.

He was within it. He was without it. He was it.

It had the red Zenith logo on its face. The hour hand was a 45ACP Broomhandled Mauser M712 with shoulder stock. The minute hand was a Thompson 1921 Machine Gun. The subsidiary sweep second hand was a Webley M4 455. The stem wind was a Red Fez.

Only one man was those armaments. Only one man made that incognito pocket watch a legendary timepiece. Only for him did I keep my own Zenith 1900 at the Monastery as my sole material possession there.

It could Not be him... The Cardinal could Not be him.

"You." I pointed a finger.

"Yes." He rested his fists upon his hips.

"You're the man."

"Yes, my son." His eyes looked about... With slight exasperation.

"So many years ago." I got my eyes into his face. His eyes looked from about... Then into my face. His cool brown eyes greeted mine.

"You're still alive, R..."

He clapped a hand about my mouth... To shut me the Fuck up.

"Do not even think it." He searched with his eyes far, far, about the Nothingness... "They will be on us like the proverbial flies."

Q

He stood back from me. He was still before me. And wore a three piece Harris Tweed suit. He brushed off dust from its shoulders and sleeves.

I told him: "You're Dead."

"I am." He pulled the M4 from the small of his back. Opened its cylinder breach. Checked it for ammunition. It was fully loaded.

"But, you're Alive. I Took your Blood and hair when I... We fought." I could Not understand it. How was he the Cardinal?

"I am." He reholstered his M4 revolver. "Listen." He crossed his arms. Then told me: "I am. You are not. We could go on like this forever. Literally."

He put an arm about my shoulder. And walked me into Nothingness.

"There is nothing wrong with any of it. Everything really is alright. This is your Bardo but we must get on with it. Look!"

He waved an arm. Ancient Egypt appeared from Nothingness.

"Behold! The Akashic Chronicle. Two Millennia prior Golgotha. His incarnation in Human Flesh. Just look at his possessed shine face. You see him advanced in years. Yet he looks so young,"

He did. He was an Egyptian Boy Man. He expounded from advantage height unto vast Temple for Scribes. They stylus scribbled clay.

"Lucifer. The Devil. He is so referred in Bible. His incarnation was Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained. Thus were wheels of contemporary thought leveraged. Such Truths had to be Ignorantly Accepted. For Humanity they were Unattainable."

Temple Scribes continued to scribble on clay tablets. Though they understood Not what. They scribbled on for how. As was their duty.

"Behold."

He waved his arm again. Night sky appeared. It was Not black with twinkle stars. It was deepest sea green. Alive with Cosmic Beings.

"Humanity truly beheld those actual Beings in constellations we refer to as myths."

Cosmic Beings looked below upon Scribes whom truly understood Not.

"That is his game. Lucifer is a Being proper from enduring realm of Time Choosing to act improperly within Time not enduring. His symptoms are Selfindulgences casting shadows as Hindrances,"

He pulled with arm. Face of Lucifer was all before us for Nothing.

"For better or worse, Lucifer's incarnation forced Humanity with drives. We have attained Destination in part through struggle to understand Truths Ignorantly Accepted. Yet proper enduring realm of Time Chooses to act improperly within Time not enduring. Thus his incarnation was evil,"

Scribes stopped scribbling and looked to Boy Man face of Lucifer. They still understood Not. Lucifer looked them as God. He smiled.

"There indeed is Rub of Evil. What is Right in its Place Chooses to act disguised in Place where it does not belong. In Lucifer's case, then as now, it is in matter of Time. Literally."

I looked to the Akashic Chronicle. It's like a Web of Time. Upon it all Human efforts are... scribbled. Upon it I saw Lucifer act in the wrong Place. At the wrong Time. I Felt the storm approach.

"Look..."

The Cardinal waved his arm again. And Time flew. As Pyramids arose. The Sphinx weathered. And Egypt fell. Athens appeared. Philosophers babbled. As Romans Conquered. And made Republic. Roman Law was established. It soon became prosaic. As Estate.

"Behold!"

I beheld. I could Not withstand.

"Golgotha!"

I crumpled into Nothingness.

"The Right Place. The Right Time."

Two mighty arms pulled me back.

"It is alright." He held me from behind. "In HIM you withstand,"

The Christ was on Golgotha. The scene of HIS Passion was surround.

"Golgotha was Fulcrum. Golgotha was Pivotal Time. Human Being is Destined of Spirit. It was Spirit Destined Time."

I was still coming apart. He held me still tighter.

"It was Time for Human Flesh to Begin Human Being."

His arms were about me. They were all about. Holding me. Together.

"You call it Spark. Is Spark not Beginning?"

I still beheld. I still could Not withstand. I was still Nothing.

"It had to have Beginning. Human Flesh devoid of Spirit is not Human Being but akin to Animal Flesh,"

I crumpled for Nothingness. I searched back across Time for Egypt.

"We beheld Cosmic Beings. We beheld not facts. We beheld Cosmic Beings behind facts. We beheld as though Animal. Animals behold not through Individual Soul. Animals behold through Group Souls,"

I saw Humans struggle what for Herd. Not how to Individuate Earth.

"And what defines Humanity pinnacle upon Earth? Our Individual Souls. Our Souls of Spirit. Our Spirit Individual. You call it Spark but Spark needs Beginning,"

The Christ was still on Golgotha. Scene of Passion still surround: Mary. Magdalene. Longinus. Two Thieves Crucified. Conspicuous Sun.

"For this The Christ betook confines of Human Flesh. The Christ is not Jesus, a man who was special,"

Sun conspicuous grew. It grew for all about HIS scene of Passion.

"Zarathustra knew HIM as Ohura Mazda and Great Sun Being. The Christ is that Great Being. HE is God's Regent of Sun,"

Sun brightened all. It became all. But eclipsed of Jesus on Cross.

"The Christ Rules Sun. Sun was Beginning. Sun Began Planets. Sun sustains our Earth. Yet Sun brought forth Human Flesh as highest of Group Soul to betake of Spirit,"

Sun eclipsed Jesus from within Cross. It eclipsed all. Of Passion.

"And Sun betook ITSELF of Human Flesh. Thus Human Flesh betook of Spirit,"

Sun eclipsed from Cross. It eclipsed unto Earth from within Jesus.

"And Human Flesh became Human Being: Bearer of Spirit of God on Earth,"

Sun made for Saturn. A shock ring of Light rang silent from Earth.

"It had to have Beginning and The Christ Sun was our Beginning,"

Sun erupt made for beyond Saturn. Shock ring of Light rang beyond Jupiter. Light erupt rang silent unto Cosmos. It erupt ran beyond.

"Yet Beginning needed force and The Christ Sun was our force Beginning. Thus HE was most Right for our Beginning."

My Skull cracked. The Cardinal gripped me tighter. He went on:

"And Golgotha was Right Time for our Beginning. And for more which was Beginning. Yet Golgotha was Right Place where nothing had been disguised. Thus all in Right Time took Place Right before all upon Golgotha,"

My Skull imploded. Collapsed down my neck. He went on holding me.

"The Christ did betake HIMSELF of Jesus. A man who was special. And what did become of This Jesus? He was Crucified. And Human Flesh was put to Cross Death upon Golgotha."

My collapsed Skull consumed me. It consumed me from inside out.

"And what did become of This Flesh?"

I became my Skull. But Not my Skull as I knew it...

"Flesh of Jesus betaken of The Christ became Blood of Christ Jesus betaken of Earth."

I became my Skull turned inside out of Itself.

"And all hell broke loose. Literally."

His arms were iron bands tightening. He took me within. I beheld Golgotha from within him as my Skull turned inside out of Itself.

"Blood of Christ Jesus did pulse of Stigmata. Wound of Longinus did spear of HIS side. All did pour forth upon rock of Golgotha,"

The sky did tear as he spoke to me:

"They took Human Flesh of Christ Jesus from Cross on Golgotha as Blood of Christ Jesus did resolve unto Earth,"

White cowl robed Humans removed Christ Jesus Sacrifice from Cross.

"For more was required,"

White cowl Humans roll stone Tomb sealed Sacrificed Christ Jesus.

"And Human Flesh of Christ Jesus was taken for Tomb,"

They solemn left Tomb. Jesus joyous emerged stone. HE was Christ.

"HIS Phantom did arise upon Earth,"

White cowl Humans roll stone Tomb unsealed Sacrificed Son of God.

"Humans special encroached upon Tomb,"

White cowl Humans entered Tomb. They unsealed jars of special Oil.

"They laid hold for Human Flesh once betaken of The Christ. They treated it of special preparation. They took it to special place,"

White cowl Humans stood astride hidden precipice fissure of Earth.

"And Human Flesh once betaken of The Christ was delivered unto and betaken of Earth."

They solemn rolled. Special Sacrifice plummeted depths. Anointed Son of God disappeared. Sacrificed unto hidden fissure for Earth.

"And what did become of This Human Flesh once betaken of The Christ once it was betaken of Earth?"

The hidden fissure was special. It was unfathomable deep of Earth. It did seal with grateful tremble. Earth did quake grateful depth.

"It did act as Homeopathic preparation. But billionth of part. Yet betaken of Earth it did act. Earth did transform as Human Flesh of Jesus had. Thus Earth did transform as Body of Christ,"

The veil did rend as he spoke to me more:

"We looked for it not. It occurred nonetheless. What we believed with our eyes was not how to believe. It was no longer Earth. It was Body of Christ. And Earth did become Body of Christ,"

I looked. Nothingness was Earth as Body of Christ.

"We stand upon HIM. We see not upon WHOM,"

It seethed sacred vitality.

"Yet arrogant we maintain Earth is ours. It is HIM and is HIS."

His arms released me from within.

"Thus in HIM you withstand."

I rolled forth... Still my Skull turned inside out of Itself.

"You call it Web. It acts for sustaining. Does it not act as a Phantom? It acts for Earth as well. It acts for Soul as Images Living Remembered. And acts for Earth as well,"

I still looked upon Earth as Body of Christ.

"As it acts for Earth so does it act for us all,"

I looked upon it from my Skull still turned inside out of Itself.

"The Christ did resurrect. As Web of Earth. As wax before fire. As smoke dispersed by wind. As Phantom for Earth. So did all who hate HIM flee from HIS sight. And the Just did rejoice!"

Earth as Body of Christ still seethed sacred and vital...

"And Earth did become sustenance Image Live Remembrance of The Christ Beginning Sun betaking Human Flesh Beginning Individual. And Earth did become so for us all,"

It seethed sacred vital story: Of HIS Passion and Resurrection.

"Yet The Christ does live as Web of Earth. Thus does HIS Phantom sustain for us all,"

It seethed sacred vital: For Resurrect Martyrs of similar Passion.

"And heaven did battle. For The Christ did resurrect. Yet Mich-a-el did bestride battle. Lance of Cross in hand. Thus did He smite the Dragon who hated The Christ and banished it unto Earth,"

The Cardinal looked down upon me.

"Yet what of Mich-a-el?"

I blinked at him. From my Skull still turned inside out of Itself.

"Thus what of battle?"

He reached into my Skull turned inside out of Itself. For myself.

"Do you not see in passing Time Spirit?"

He pulled me right side out. From my inside out of Itself Skull.

"Spirit standing for Time?"

I stood whole again... With the Cardinal... In the Nothingness.

"It is Archangels."

He waved across the Nothingness.

"They stand as Spirit."

Stars of Time flew forward.

"They stand for Time,"

Time Flew. Rome lost Estate. As Darkness Fell. Charlemagne Sought.

"They stand then deliver. Time passes unto Spirit in line,"

Darkness did Zenith. As Europe Arose. It Blossomed of its Best.

"It came to pass year 1879. Gabriel passed unto next in line,"

Europe did Zenith. As Blossom turned Fragrance. It began to Stink.

"And Mightiest of Archangels now stands for our Time,"

Then Bismarck over heeded Machiavelli. And Hell loomed on Horizon.

"We announce Him Michael. We better announce Him correctly. He is Mich-a-el. He is Chief of Archangels. And what did He do?"

First World War crushed Europe. They mad treaty wrote Versailles.

"Mich-a-el, Chief of Archangels, smote Dragon who hated The Christ in battle and banished it unto Earth. Where unto Earth did it go?"

Second World War crushed all. Atomic treaties beckoned. For Hell.

"You call it Corpse. It is finest Star Dust of Ancient Earth Time. Is it not Forms?"

The Cardinal waved his arm... Time ground to a Halt.

"Behold!"

Nothingness became a room in our Time. I was redressed particular.

"Its incarnation in Human Flesh. Just look at its miserable brood face. You see it young in years. Yet it appears old."

It did. It was an Old Man Boy. It was Not dressed particular. It sat in a room Banked of Technology. Its Old Man Boy face gloated.

"Zarathustra knew it as Ahriman. In Bible it's so referred as Satan. Its incarnation is Materialistic Domination Denying of Spirit. Thus the lines of our battle are drawn,"

It gloated us what for Stupid. It Banked upon Technology for how.

"And that is its game. Satan is a Being proper of enduring realm of Form Choosing to act improperly within Form not enduring. Its symptoms are Unscrupulousness casting shadows Sickness and Death,"

Its Banks of Technology Number Streamed. They Battle Displayed.

"For better or worse, Satan's incarnation forces Humanity driven to Choose. We will attain our Destiny in part through battle for Chosen Freedom of Spirit through Love. Yet proper enduring realm of Form Chooses to act improperly within Form not enduring. Thus its incarnation is evil,"

The Cardinal raised his arms... And we were soon atop a Pinnacle.

"There again is Rub of Evil. What is Right in its place Chooses for act disguised in place where it does not belong. In Satan's instance it is in matter of Form. Literally."

Nothingness was Vista of Human Destiny.

"There are two evils not one. We are stuck in the middle,"

I looked at Vista of Human Destiny. It's Panorama of Human Strife.

"Satan would enslave us of loathsome Forms. It would we become Materialistic Domination Denying of Spirit,"

Amidst Human Strife there are Human Choices.

"Lucifer would enslave us of loathsome Times. He would we become Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained."

Amongst Human Choices there are Human Questions.

"The Christ would Free us of Love. HE would we become HIS Angels,"

Amidst Human Choices. And Amongst Human Questions. Lies Destiny.

"Yet in middle we withstand of The Christ. HE gives us Freedom to Love. Thus Love is Freedom in battle against evil,"

Destiny is what for Humans Choose. And how Humans Question.

"And battle we must. It matters not the evil we face. Both are antichrist."

Destiny lies in Choices. And Questions. Some are Human. Most Not.

"Yet You Choose: There is The Christ. There is antichrist."

It was The Choice. Nothingness was silence atop Vista of Destiny.

"Thus You Choose?"

It was The Question. I was more than whole. I answered.

"I Choose The Christ!"

I was more than redressed particular. I answered louder.

"I Choose to FIGHT!"

I was galvanized. I answered loudest.

"To the DEATH! And BEYOND!"

A vortex opened above my back. The Cardinal's eyes were in mine.

"By the way... That is my Zenith you keep at your Monastery."

He stuffed an enormous Bee up my nose. Then sealed his lips onto my nostrils. And launched my lungs: Into the vortex... I flew...

R

There was an enormous hum. And a shattering crash. My lungs had landed empty. They attempted air. They could Not. Something had lodged in my throat... And it was digging in.

I made to cough it out. I could Not. My lungs needed air. An arm steadied my chest. Fingers searched my throat. I opened my eyes.

It was Shadow Chinese. His hand emerged from my mouth. With an enormous Scarab. My lungs rasped in air... Like dry paper bags.

Shadow Chinese placed the Scarab in a box. And tucked it into his robes. His hand remerged with a gnarled root. My throat tightened.

I rasped out: "dhung bhug?"

"It's bite brings you back." He stuffed the root into my mouth. "This finishes the job. Chew."

I used my tongue to search my mouth. A tight ball of Dung Bug bite was just beneath my tongue. My mouth was Fucking bitter. I bit the root. It was sweet.

"thaanhks."

"Do not talk. Chew."

I made with the gnashing of teeth. My spit flowed. Like a damn faucet. My mouth was soon filled with bittersweet spit. Shadow Chinese gently covered my mouth.

"Swallow."

I gulped. My throat soothed open.

"Chew."

I kept at it. And so did the root. I soon swallowed what felt like a gallon of bittersweet spit. It brought me back alright. And how:

My lungs tided air and flowed Blood. My heart awoke like a lost Bee humming ground to regain its bearing home. My flesh flushed alive. My eyes searched about from their still dry sockets...

I was still in the silver box. I craned up my head to have a look.

Shadow Chinese gently steadied my chest.

"Do not rise. Finish the root."

There was Not much left. It soon vanished down my throat. I downed a final load of bittersweet spit. Shadow Chinese checked my pulse.

"His Eminence sends word second payment is secure. He awaits your judgments."

My vision had locked in. I detected a flicker of concern between Shadow Chinese's brow.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Three days."

"That's fast."
And it was. The Certain Chapel had been outside Kiev for eleven centuries. To dismantle and deliver it to our port on the Black Sea in three days was a miracle of speed. I focused upon Shadow Chinese's brow again.

"Anna?"

"Alive."

"Thank you."

"You will see her soon. Rest till they come for you. I must rejoin my father's house." And Shadow Chinese disappeared right before my eyes.

I wondered just how fast he could be.

I made with the feeling hands. Shadow Chinese had redressed me. I felt my Rosary. Restrung. Beneath my Masonic Frock Coat. I looked up from the silver box. The onyx slab was gone. I eased my elbows against the bottom of the box and raised myself up... Slowly.

I was stiff as Hell. It took a tight five minutes to get my ass out of the box. I stepped carefully onto the onyx floor. Shadow Chinese had been cruel to that slab. It was shattered about the silver box... I liked his style.

I shuffled to a smoked mirror wall. The room was dead dark. It was hard to see myself. I reached inside my Frock Coat... My Zippo was there. I spun the wheel... Then held it up to the smoked mirror.

I looked fantastic. The Life Dust had done its stuff and Shadow Chinese had cleaned me up. No caky dry Blood about my Skull. My Pocket Tee Shirt and Red Silk were still a Fucking mess.

I circled the room to limber myself up and lifted my Rosary from my Bloody Tee Shirt. I fingered the starting bead. And made with the Prayers.

My people dare Not Our Father like the Roman Church. We Hail Mary around the neck and down the line to single dare Our Father. Then reach for Golgotha. I'm always scared to reach for Golgotha. This time I was scared to turn inside out of my Skull again. I did Not.

They took their sweet time coming for me. I made our Rosary eleven times and they still had Not come. I was much loosened by then and felt better than I had in years. I decided to look around.

There was Not much to see. The cheap Crucifix they had beat me on was still there. It was all two by fours and penny nailed with my Blood. Fuck them. Sacrilege is one thing. Cheap sacrilege is just plain Fucked.

I knew where the hidden door was. I could Not make it out in my embodied state. Nor could I make out the catch to open it. So I leaned up against a smoke mirrored wall and contemplated making another round of our Rosary when I saw It reach... From beneath.

It was reaching from beneath the silver box. It was the Volitional Light. The Kid was somewhere beneath. I made to the silver box and ran my fingers along its base. Feeling for the catch.

Something bent inside my Masonic Frock Coat. I reached in. Pulled out my American Optics Jet Fighter Shades... What else did I have?

I searched myself. There was a note folded inside my Workingman's pants. I spun my Zippo for light. The writing was rough. It said:

"Stayed Your Ass. Stay Mine."

It was from the Bruce. I knew he could have hit me harder.

I put on my Jet Fighter Shades. They allow for a direct stare into the Sun... A crucial advantage when spinning close to Mach one for who knows where. I used them on the Kid's Light.

They showed it as creeping green mist. Then they kept my eyes cool. As the room flooded with harsh electric light. They had finally come for me. I wanted to talk first:

"What took you so long?" I kept on with the finger feeling along the base of the silver box. "Where's the catch?"

"You look fantastic, Nick." The Guru was strolling towards me. The Bruce closed the smoked mirror door as he entered behind the Guru.

"Never better." I Felt a tingling magnetism sealing the base of the box. "Just tell me where it is so I can get the Kid and get him the hell away from all you Hacks."

"You're not going to get shit, Nick." The Guru loomed over me. The Bruce loomed behind him. I stood into the Guru. He backed off.

"And you are for shit!" I followed him. He bumped into the Bruce and spun behind him. I spoke around them. "Fork over the Kid. It ends here. This is your last chance."

Shortboy45 peaked at me from behind the Guru in the Bruce's huge paw. His other hand held out a pair of Smith & Wesson Cuffs. The Guru backed away. The Bruce came for me. I held my wrists behind my back. And followed the Guru's retreat with my face.

"It's Time to Put Back in the World all the Good you've Taken from It." The Bruce spun the Cuffs on me. "You are going to get what is yours."

The Bruce manned the Cuff chains to my ass. And stuck shortboy45 to my Skull. The Guru miraculously regained courage. He got into my face:

"I am going to get what's mine and you are not."

I lead with my chin: "That's the first smart thing you've said."

The Guru clocked my chin. I did Not have to pretend it hurt. My American Optics flew to the floor.

"The Kid is mine. Your ass is mine." He whopped my gut. I blew Blood from my mouth... All over his nice white clothes.

"Fuck you." I spat more Blood on him. He slapped me silly with his gangly arm.

"No. Fuck you, Nick." He backed off. He kept an eye on me. He took an eye off me. He wandered about the room all absentminded. It was time for the Fucking soliloquy of the Evil Prick. What the Fuck do they do it for?

"I'll sell your ass. I'll sell your ass! To the highest bidder! I'll take the money for the Kid's ass. But I'll never sell his ass. I'll never sell my son. I'm his father. I'm more than his father. I'm his spiritual light. His guide! In this dark world! This dark world needing light. His light... My Son's Light!"

The Bruce pulled me from the silver box. The Guru reached to its base and made with the finger twiddling. The Bruce plucked up my Shades from off the floor. And stuck them onto my face. The Guru backed off the box.

A clack of released current released the seal. Light wafted from beneath. Thank God for American Optics. It was a lot of blinding Fucking green mist.

"Behold my Son's Light! The Light that is not Yours!"

The box arose to reveal stairs descending into the Light. The Guru descended them with his arms raised on high. What a Drama Hack. As if he could impress me. And the Bruce was blind.

Or was he? The Bruce was hauling me directly for the green mist.

I lifted my face to his. And whispered softly:

"did you know?"

"No."

"thanks for the note."

"Fuck off."

We descended into the Light.

S

The Light wavered. Then ceased. It did Not matter to the Bruce.

He kept me upright as my steel toes slipped wood. Then he shoved me off from the bottom step. I fell onto the Guru. I steadied my Jet Fighter Shades between his shoulder blades.

Then I bit his shirt. The Guru leaped from me. And scolded:

"Nikki!"

The switch threw. The Whorelamps came on. What a Fucking mess.

Nikki was panting against the wall. With both arms on the switch. She was naked. Drenched... Sex and sweat. Her big red lips shook:

"He ran out of stuff."

The Guru tossed her a bottle.

"Give him a blue one. Shoot him with more."

Nikki went to the bedside and produced a hypo with morphine. Then straddled the Kid, stuffed a blue pill into his mouth and got the stuff ready to shoot.

The Kid was bound on the bed. With crazyman canvas straps. He was pasty wasted flesh. Nikki kissed his neck and stuck the needle in.

Anna was roped to a cross. With her face against a wall. She hung limp. Her back was lashed deep. Dried Blood caked her perfect Ass and legs.

The Bruce found a big sewage pipe on the wall opposite Anna. I focused on Anna's lashed back. As the Bruce cuffed me onto the pipe.

Nikki and the Kid were on the bed and to my right. The Guru was between me and Anna. I looked through the Guru. Anna heaved her ribs. I looked to my left. That eery glass case was right there.

I could Not resist:

"Do I detect an eery glass case against the wall to my left?"

The Bruce immediately stopped cuffing me. And made for the case. The Guru went with him. The Bruce had left me plenty Not Cuffed.

"Yes." The Guru spoke in that fake soothing tone sociopaths use to buy themselves bullshit Time. "My friend... your day has arrived."

The Bruce caressed the eery glass case. He was feeling it for a catch. Anna's head lifted off the wall. The Guru bullshitted on:

"You have given so much. It is time to receive."

Anna turned from the wall. She faced me. Our eyes met. She smiled like Justice seeing The Sword... As the Guru kept on bullshitting:

"Receive her then and be free of Onyx. But I ask you to share this with me. Stay, my friend, and see my Triumph!"

I wondered just how bad a metaphor it was.

Nikki was on the bed doing the Kid. His face writhed agony. The Guru approached the Kid on the bed. And got into the Kid's face.

"It is I, my son, your father." The Kid groaned. And turned his face away from the Guru. "I love you. I have brought you Justice."

I slipped the off cuffs and slid them into a tail pocket of my Masonic Frock Coat. Anna smiled wider and returned to face the wall. The Guru gestured to me. Then for Anna.

"I have brought them here and bound them before you."

The Kid groaned louder. I wondered if he found the Guru as insipid as I did. The Guru pointed dramatically to me. Then Anna. And kept right on with the bullshitting:

"They killed her. They Killed Your Mother!"

The Guru spat on me. Then towards Anna. And went for the case.

"Withhold your light. Bring her not life if you will. But withhold not your power. Bring her murderers to Justice. Release your power my son. Bring These Murderers Death!"

Nikki was going crazy on the Kid. His face was all pain. I could Not take it any more:

"I heard your cry, Kid. I'm here to save you. Kill me if you want... But take out this Fucked Face Hack with me if you do."

The Guru got to the bed. Nikki was pounding it hard. The Kid's face was all torture. The Guru's face was all scream:

"KILL THEM!"

The Bruce found the catch. The case opened. The room went whack.

Time slowed like a forgotten Atomic blast filmed in green.

Nikki launched off the bed and into the Guru. They slammed to the floor. Anna dropped from the cross. Her ropes had turned to smoke. The Bruce was sucked into the case as it imploded like a gripping cloud.

My Jet Fighter Shades wrapped around my Skull. As if they had become part of me. I kept my arms behind me and held onto the sewage pipe.

The Whorelamps blew bulbs. The walls glowed hot. The Kid's Light subsided. Time returned to normal. The ceiling burst into flames.

The only things left conscious in the room were the Kid standing on the bed, me on the pipe and the Guru freaked out on the floor.

The Kid looked down upon the sniveling Guru. And yelled:

"I AM NOT!"

I nodded to the Kid. And told him: "I understand."

The Kid collapsed onto the bed. I kept my hands on the pipe.

The Guru sniveled off the floor. He encroached the bed. The Kid looked like Death. The Guru reached a snubnosed .357 from under the mattress. He was shaken shitless. His nice white pants were soiled. He turned the snubnose on me.

"You." His face shook to the crumpled Kid. I focused on the Kid. His ribs barely moved. The Guru got back to his bullshitting:

"You know not your true friends." The snubnose shook in his hand. "But you do." The Kid gasped. The Guru froze...

"That's why you left us aware." He rattled the gun at me. "But him still bound." The Kid barely breathed. The ceiling was on fire. It was time again for another Fucking soliloquy. How the Fuck do they do it? Always!

"But I, your father, your spiritual light, will do what you know must be done." He reached for his pants. "I will deliver them to justice." He produced a bag from his pants. "I will see our dear mother, my soulmate, avenged."

The Fucked Face Hack had produced my bag of Life Dust.

He pealed the bag open. And hooked out a handful of Dust.

"See how I love you." He cupped it to his face.

I interrupted: "Don't do it."

"I must. For my son. For my soulm..."

"No, that Dust. It's strong shit. You can't take it."

"It kept you alive." He was shaking to his knees.

"Then Fucking do it..." I'd had enough of his shit.

"He would deny me life as I take..." He'd shit himself any second.

So I told him: "End my Life for What I have Done."

The Dust shook to his face. The snubnose shook to mine.

His nostrils ate my Dust. I slowly reached for the snubnose. The Guru's eyes popped. And rolled white. I plucked the snubnose and my Dust from his hands as his head snapped to the floor. And his body followed.

Anna had clocked the Guru. But good. With a Whorelamp.

The Whorelamp was still in her hands. Anna and I looked from the Guru to eachother. She tossed the lamp onto the Guru's head. The wall behind her caught fire. Anna jumped over the Guru. And into my arms.

"Who's better than you?" She bit my shoulder.

I whispered into her ear: "Just you, baby. Just you."

Glass crunched. We turned for the Bruce. As he emerged from the eery glass case. His Wife was in his arms. Her twenty two years had been but pure beauty sleep. His voice cleared the air:

"Did the coffin close us in?"

I looked up the steps. They lead to solid silver. Anna went to the bed. I pocketed the snubnose and my Dust and went to the Bruce.

"Sealed solid." I checked his coat pockets. And pulled out Anna's Switchblade and my Cast Iron Knuckles. "Can you see?"

"Only about the green light. It's gone."

I checked the small of his back. Shortboy45 was there. And Ready for work. The Bruce hefted his Wife up in his arms. And asked me:

"How does she look?"

"Perfect!" I could Not believe how perfect she looked.

Anna took my hand. "The Kid's near gone." She took my Knuckles.

Nikki had come to. And gone straight for the Guru. She was bent over him all concerned. Anna went for her with my Knuckles. And clocked the smug lips from right off her face. Nikki dropped on top of the Guru.

"I've not whored myself to let her burn." The Bruce was all arms about his Wife. "You're Nick Turner. Which way out?"

"The wall behind the bed." I spun the cuffs on Nikki and the Guru. Fate Cuffing them... Fucked together. Anna and I made for the bed.

The Bruce gently placed his Wife beside the Kid on the bed. Anna and I hauled the bed from the wall. As the Bruce started in with the savage wall battering.

I pulled the Life Dust from my pocket. I blew some on Anna's back and thumbed the rest into the Kid's mouth. I removed a sheet from the bed and handed it to Anna with my Belt. Anna belted the sheet about herself into a toga as I slipped the Kid into my Frock Coat.

The Bruce had battered out the wall plenty wide. He gently cradled his Wife into his arms. Anna slung the Kid over her shoulder. As I pulled out the snubnose... And lead the way out through the walls.

The walls were Fucking hot and leaking fire. We were soon in the basement of the Grill. The Kid had scorched wide. It was on fire as well.

T

My Shades were still bent about my Skull. I made to take them off.

I gripped them back on. My eyes had become Light Magnets. Even firelight was too much. I twisted my Red Silk into a head band. And secured my Jet Fighter Shades onto my Skull.

I transferred the snubnose into my left hand. Slid my Knuckles onto my right. Then handed Anna her Switchblade. And told her:

"Give me five steps then follow slow." We kissed for luck.

A gun went off in the Grill. It was a 22 Magnum. William preferred 22 Magnums... I made for the stairs. Then up the stairs. Fast.

The kitchen was deserted. The fire system had Not even started to make with the foam. I relaxed the snubnose down to my thigh. Then entered the bar of Grill all nonchalant.

It was a tidy mess smoking for more.

Smoke seeped the walls. A Masonic Frock Coat was lying upon the floor. Brains and Blood trailed from it for the revolving brass door. The King dropped the Note from his left hand. A 22 Magnum hung in his right.

I broke the silence: "Didn't hesitate, did you?

Guns spun for me and hammers pulled. Irritating Face and the three Thugs pointed me with Walther P38s. The King indicated me with the magnum. The Patriarch was by the King's side. He spat with dismay.

The King let rip with the hiccuping girl frog laugh. I focused on the hands reaching from the sleeves of the Masonic Frock Coat. It was No38. His debt had been paid.

The Bruce and Anna emerged from the kitchen with his Wife and the Kid. The Bruce placed his Wife on the bar then stepped to my side. Anna kept behind us gripping the Kid. The King laid off the croak.

"Put the gun down." I did on the floor. The King removed his dark glasses. Then told me: "Slid it here..." I did with a steeled toe.

The Bruce stretched an ear to follow the snubnose. Anna eased from our side. Irritating Face reached and picked the snubnose from off the floor. He scraped off a noise as he picked it.

The Bruce put shortboy45 to work:

Irritating Face took it in the spine as shortboy45 nailed him for the floor. The three Thugs growled to drop hammers and shortboy45 took out their teeth

The King clicked the empty magnum. The Note Bearer brings but one bullet. Shortboy45 wrenched the magnum from the King's naked hand. The King spun and howled fierce.

Irritating Face was still on the floor. But stupid tough. He had grunted to reach for the snubnose and shortboy45 heeled his face into the floor.

The King reached for his Piece as shortboy45 clicked empty. Anna clicked and thrust. Her Switchblade struck into the King's elbow. He grasped it... And stood still.

I went for the King and reached out his Piece. It was a goldplated shortboy38 with mother of pearl grips. I regained some respect for the King. He locked an eye on me. With kingly appeal:

"When do I get the Kid?"

"You don't." I chambered his cartridges to the floor. Then tossed his Piece. Disposed to behind the bar. "I like the Kid."

The King ripped out with the jagged croak. The Patriarch was Not amused. His face boiled. His cheeks blustered. His Skull roared:

"DIE!" He produced a Kalashnikov Assault Rifle from beneath his black robes. He chambered it. And roared more: "CATHAR HERETIC!"

I felt the sliding click and arm thrust. A hard line bore into the Patriarch. He fell like a rotted tree. The Bruce's knife stick had struck through his eye... Served him right.

The King looked from the Patriarch laid out on the floor with the knife stick through his eye to me standing before him. His throat jiggled. His lips trembled. The King had gotten it.

And it was hilarious.

He let rip with the jagged croak. It was time for the punch line.

I cut my Knuckles into the King's gut and took Anna's Switchblade from his elbow as he folded to the floor. The revolving door spun.

William entered with Norma. Her eyes went wide.

They said: "shit..." through her lips.

The Grill gave into the flames. The Bruce cradled his Wife from the bar. I returned Anna her Switchblade. As she stared down at the dead hands reaching from the sleeves of the Masonic Coat on the floor.

"That's him..."

I cradled the Kid from her shoulder. "Yes, baby, that's him."

"His hands... I'll never forget his hands."

"I made him pay, baby. I made it extra Hell on Earth."

Sirens howled from a distance. As William and Norma spun with No38 out the revolving door. We made to follow them out. The Kid opened his eyes into my Shades.

They said, "i'm sorry..." without lips.

"You're alright, Kid." I took the knife stick from the Patriarch's eye. "Everything's going to be alright."

I spun with the Kid out the revolving brass door.

U

Anna's '69 Coupe de Ville purred the Grill's curbside. Its dual exhaust kissed clouds to the night. It looked so demure. It was Not.

Its black vinyl top shimmered fire light. Its blood maroon paint reflected Onyx ablaze. Its trunk gaped upon No38 as Norma helped William stow away the corpse.

Anna held the front seat forward. The Bruce placed his Wife on the back bench. I cradled the Kid. As I watched the Wife's corpse. Her twenty two years had left her suppler than No38's two minutes.

William closed the trunk on No38 and came for me with Norma. Her eyes asked questions. Her head tilted right. Her mouth opened in comprehension. Norma had figured how but still knew Not what for.

William produced a box from his Workingman's pants.

"A gift from the Cardinal." He stuffed the box into mine.

"You knew when?" I placed the Kid beside Anna on the front bench of her Coupe de Ville as she buckled herself in behind the wheel.

"He knew." Sirens approached from a distance. Their lights flashed in the whites of William's eyes. "He knows fast."

"See you at Base?" I joined Anna and the Kid on the front bench.

"God Willing." William spun Norma through the revolving brass door and followed her into the burning Grill.

I closed the Cadillac's door. The approaching sirens fell silent. All was silence... But for the growl of Kitty's geared engine.

That's right, motorheads...

Anna's '69 Coupe de Ville was a 740 horse power Geared Engine tiger. With 650 foot pounds of torque. And Anna had named her Kitty.

Kitty had four on the floor. With an ultra low first and reverse. Her body, suspension and drivetrain were massively reinforced to handle the strain. And Kitty's shift knob was a black onyx skull.

My girlfriend... With the killer Ass... Had a killer Car.

And killer instincts to match.

Anna dropped Kitty's door locks. I slid the passenger shoulder strap beneath me. I buckled the Kid in between Anna and myself.

"i'm sorry." The Kid said it with lips. "it was a mistake."

"Tell me later." I returned the Bruce his knife stick. "Do Not forget." The Bruce returned shortboy45 back into my care.

Anna shifted the onyx skull into second. She eased Kitty down the block. I opened the Cardinal's box as the Mark's executive garage door opened down the block.

The Mark's chickenshits emerged from the executive garage in two Stretch Limos. They inched a road block across the bottom of the block as I pulled the Cardinal's gift from my Workingman's Pants.

It was a fresh clip and extra round for shortboy45. I swapped clips and chambered the extra round as the City Fire Fighters arrived. They turned the top of the block.

And sealed off any top of the block exit... I looked to Anna:

"Sorry about your car." And I meant it.

"Kitty's not afraid." Anna stomped her foot. Kitty leaped with a terrifying howl. As she plowed a left hook for the right Stretch.

I braced my legs between dash and door and wedged the Kid in.

Kitty rammed the right Stretch and slammed to its side. I readied shortboy45 for trouble. None came. I lifted my Shades.

Night was day to my Light Magnet eyes. I looked through the right Stretch. The Chickenshits had flown back for the Mark's executive garage.

"It's The Secret." The Kid grasped my arm. "Be careful."

"It's alright." I dropped my Shades back on. "Do Not worry."

Anna lifted the skull into reverse and torqued Kitty from the right Stretch. She pointed for the left Stretch and stuck the skull into first.

"Kitty wants to play." She popped the clutch. Kitty pounced. The chickenshits tried to flee the left Stretch. Too late.

I braced my legs to the floor and hugged the Kid secure. The Bruce did the same with his Wife in the back of the Coupe.

Kitty rammed the left Stretch in the ass and piled it to the curb. Chickenshits flew over and under to the side. One of them finally plucked out a gun. He splat a futile bullet on Kitty's windshield.

Did I Not mention Kitty's bullet proof glass? Anna spun the wheel.

"Kitty makes him pay." Anna slipped the clutch and Kitty hopped the curb. She battered the chickenshit down. He rolled into the Mark's executive garage. And his fellow chickenshits closed the garage door behind him.

"Kitty's bored." Anna lifted the skull and purred Kitty back to the street.

I looked up the street as City Fire Fighters minded their own business. They were Workingmen and the Mark's people were Not friends of theirs. I respected their judgment

And I grinned as the King spun from the Grill and into their arms.

The Bruce found my face with his hand. He was grinning. His other hand gestured to Anna:

"Wake up!" He slapped me and pointed emphatic. "Marry that girl!"

Anna grinned and put the skull into second. Kitty growled and put Onyx behind us.

I reached into Kitty's glove box and produced an Eight Track of Barry White. It was the only music Anna permitted Kitty to play.

Barry is misunderstood. He wrote songs for the Ladies but mostly wrote for his Muse. The remainder he wrote for The Christ. Barry wrote "You're The First, The Last, My Everything" for The Christ. He also wrote it for Anna and I... It was our song.

I fitted Barry into Kitty's play slot and made tracks to our song.

V

A hand grabbed my Rosary. It was the Kid's. I looked into the Kid as Barry laid into the song.

"You're Nick Turner." His eyes glowed green through my Shades.

"Yes, Kid, and I am Not." I held his hand onto my Rosary.

"But that's how you know who is."

"Yes." I slid his hand down to my Rosary's Golgotha.

"I understand." The Kid closed his eyes and relaxed into Kitty's black silk upholstery. "I have to confess."

"I'm no Priest. This is no Confessional."

"I want no Priest. This is good a place as any."

It dawned on me: The Kid and I were talking alright. But Not with lips. His eyes were closed. But opened in mine. Then he told me:

"Its The Secret."

And it was. The Kid and I were talking through The Secret...

The Secret is contained in the aspect of Soul that is Willing. We were talking Soul to Soul through our Willing.

And Willing is the aspect of Cognition for Corpse. We could talk Soul to Soul through Willing. As though talking Corpse to Corpse.

But The Secret is the grinding point where Willing crosses for Remembrance. The Secret would grind the point right across our Remembrance. We would Not forget our talk.

The Kid went on: "It was a mistake."

"Tell me." I clutched his hand onto Golgotha.

"Better to show you." And he did.

The Kid was a Temple Whore. He liked to Fuck. He had a Temple Whore fuckbuddy. And they had extracurricular Fucked... A lot.

The Kid also liked morphine. He had gotten into it by way of late night television. The Kid and fuckbuddy had laid off it one night to watch an obscure Ronald Colman film called: "The Masquerader."

It's a great double role film. No one does the double roles better than Ronald Colman. First role is a Decent guy who never fulfilled his potential. Second role is an Ingrate Hack who squanders it all for morphine.

The Ingrate succumbs to morphine just as his influence is needed in Parliament to avert a crisis. The Ingrate's exasperated valet convinces the Decent into assuming the Ingrate's place until the crisis is passed.

The Decent does Not bungle it and fulfills his potential. Neither does he bungle it with the Ingrate's elegantly fine Wife. She had been neglected for morphine.

One thing leads to another and the Ingrate Dies. The Decent walks away from his past and steps into the dead guy's future. With the Wife's blessing! She is overjoyed the right guy finally showed up.

Actually, it's damned racy stuff for 1934.

But how could the Kid choose morphine Ronald Colman over I'm glad hubby's dead come to my bed you man who is all man Ronald Colman?

I figured it as the Kid's first mistake.

The second mistake was The Secret Itself. The Kid had jacked up to the hilt with morphine. And fucked himself to Death. Literally. An enormous hum in his Skull pulled him back from the Mandala Tunnel.

The hum had saved him from Death... It had also Lit room's lamps.

The Kid jacked right back up. Day after day he and fuckbuddy attempted for a repeat... It gave the Kid a Fucking headache.

One day fuckbuddy produced an old school hand massager. She hummed it upon the Kid's Skull. As they jacked up more. And Fucked away.

The lights came on to reveal how jacked up Fucking with massager placed just right upon the Kid's Skull could activate The Secret.

The Kid soon needed no massager. He could activate The Secret with morphine and Fucking alone. So he and fuckbuddy girl swapped their positions.

And they Fucked like mad with jacks of dope and that old school massager upon her Skull. Until she died... Her name was Sabrina.

Sabrina was the third mistake. You cannot fuckbuddy like that and not fall in Love. The Kid agonized his guilt over Sabrina's Death.

That's how the Guru got involved. Sabrina had been the Guru's main bitch prior to Nikki. The rest of it was Not a Fucking mistake. It was the Guru's doing.

"But it was my mistake." The Kid spoke up. "It was The Mistake."

I spoke out: "Show me."

"Better to tell you."

He changed the scene. We stood together atop the Vista of Destiny.

"I met a Wife here the first time I died. She was not like those Wives who came and rode my pony show. I did not know who she was. She showed me Lucifer. She showed me The Christ on Golgotha. She showed me satan. I thought it was just her show."

The Kid looked down. He looked around. As I looked with him. The entire Panorama of Human Strife was before, about, and behind us.

"She showed me The Choice. I thought it was a statement. She showed me The Question. I did not recognize it as Quest-I-On."

My mind went wide... I had Not recognized that either.

"I thought it was a statement. I stood and said nothing just glad to be with someone who cared. I knew she Loved me. I did not know why. She was beautiful and I loved her. I did not know why. I was pulled back. Sabrina was scared about me. Gravity and orientation were gone. It all settled. She told me I had died. I did not tell Sabrina about the Wife. I told her about adventure we had to make together. I thought it was at first. I grew desperate the more we tried and failed. I did not know why."

I told him: "Why Not."

"Exactly, so we focused on how and soon had it down." He changed the scene. Suddenly, we stood together in the Nothingness at the end of the Mandala Tunnel.

"I died and flew the Tunnel. Over and over. It lead to Nothingness and never to any Vista. Or to the Wife. The thrill of how was soon over. I grew desperate all over."

I said over: "So what."

"Precisely so I focused on what and knew it was the Wife." The Kid pointed to Mandala Tunnel. The Wife looked us from the bottom left of its mouth. "There she was staring me from edge of Nothingness."

The Wife was staring alright. I Thought she was going to wave us.

"Why was she there? How had I missed her? What did it mean?"

The scene changed. We stood in the Kid's room with Sabrina.

"I told Sabrina about the Wife. She understood. We agreed the Wife was the adventure. We guessed she met adventurers only once and on the Vista only. We decided to risk going together. We did till she died. Sabrina died helping me. I killed her adventuring the Wife's Love only then recognizing Sabrina as my True Love."

The scene changed again. We stood in the room we had just escaped. Nikki Fucked the Kid. The Wife was in the eery glass case. As the Guru watched.

"I do not know why I told the Guru. Or how I could have trusted him. But I know what he did. He abused my Thinking, Feeling and Willing. He manipulated my Faith, Love and Hope. Robbed my Life, Light and Being. I told him we were through and to fuck himself. He strapped me down in the fucking room and introduced me to my mother. I recognized her. It was the Wife. I then knew the Guru was not my father. I had always suspected it."

The Kid hesitated... "It's the Bruce, isn't it?"

I did Not hesitate: "Damn straight it is, Kid."

"Thank God. The Bruce is the balls. I knew the Guru was fucked when you guys arrived. But by then I was over surviving. I had made it back to the Vista. My mother and Sabrina. I had begged their forgiveness. Over and over. They forgave me. I must have gone to them... many times. It did not matter how they forgave. What they forgave me for. I could not forgive myself. I cannot forgive myself."

The Kid's show and tell were over. We were back in Kitty and soon for Base. Anna focused ahead. The Bruce held the Wife in the back.

"Confess." I said it with lips. Anna shot an eye to us.

"I must confess." The Kid said with lips. The Bruce leaned for us.

"I'm a morphine jacking Whore. I fucked with the power of God and killed my True Love. I played into the schemes of that fucker who destroyed my family."

The Bruce had leaned forward with his Wife. The Kid went on:

"But worst of all I made The Mistake."

The Bruce with his Wife leaned as though they listened together.

"My mother showed The Choice. She posed The Quest-I-On. I did not Choose. I returned for this World not redeemed and fucked it over. I'm fucked over. I'm lost and not worth redeeming."

I knew what the Kid was going to say. I let him say it:

"End my Life for what I have Done."

He had said it. He had said it all... I told him:

"I understand."

Barry wrapped. Anna stomped. Kitty ground to a halt. The Bruce with his Wife were forced forward. They bent together over the Coupe's bench as though they had bent to kiss the Kid together.

W

Anna popped Barry from Kitty's play slot and dump fed Kitty fuel.

Kitty roared. Kitty was pissed. A dragon had blocked her path.

The dragon slithered. It extended. Head to toe it stretched the street. It blocked our way into Base. And the Landlord's domain.

The Landlord's domain was extensive. He owned all the blocks about Base and most others for Chinatown besides. He controlled those he did Not own. The Landlord was The Man to reckon with in Chinatown.

The dragon slithered before us all blackest silk with gold trim. It shimmered in Kitty's beams. Kitty solely lit the street. The Landlord's domain had gone entirely dark...

The dragon coiled its silk. Then loomed its neck into Kitty's windshield. It peered at us. And tilted its head to the right.

Anna asked it: "Are you a good dragon? Or a Bad Dragon!"

Anna toed Kitty's brake and heeled Kitty fuel. Kitty spun smoke from her behind and wagged her ass ready to run the dragon down.

The dragon fell to the street... Anna reigned in Kitty's ass.

There was a polite knock at my window. My eyes leaped to the knock. It was Shadow Chinese. He held a note up to the glass.

The note was written in darkest Chinese. The Characters slithered.

They said: "His Eminence requests you remain armoured in car until present difficulties are resolved."

I looked down the street for Base. A massive Chinese Character emerged from a top floor window. It was blackest of blacks. It loomed ominously over the street.

It was the Chinese Character for War.

I muttered: "shit..."

The Character exploded like a firework. And rained Blood all over the street. Fuck us all. Base was at War.

The silk dragon brayed its head to the raining Blood. Dozens more dragons emerged. Sparks flashed beneath their dark silks. Sparked ropes flew from their bellies. They exploded in rapid fire.

The Bruce whistled from Kitty's back bench:

"That's a lot of firecrackers."

He was right. I had never seen so many. Smoke swirled the street.

Rose Fire burst from the top floor of Base. A body blasted from a window. A hired helmet with Kevlar vest and M16 plummeted. It was chickenshit gear. The Mark's mercenaries had invaded Base.

The chickenshit mercenary dropped dead into the swirling smoke. A dragon slithered for it. Then triumphantly carried the fresh kill away in its belly. Fuck him.

Fuck me. I was furious. I had worked from the Landlord's building for fifteen years and never brought the Consequences to bear upon his domain.

I had feared it would happen. I was shamed it had. I was galled it had happened for chickenshit mercenaries. Fuck the Cardinal. I had to redeem myself with the Landlord.

More Rose Fire burst from the top floor of Base. I looked up for more plummeting chickenshits. And tried to open my door. I could Not.

Arms hurled from the top floor of Base. Five more chickenshits flew into the smoke. Silk dragons slithered to carry them away.

Kitty's door would Not open. I tried to unlock her. She would Not.

I took off my Shades. Night was still day to my Light Magnet eyes.

I looked to Kitty's door. I could look through it. I looked closer. Something was on her wires... I looked closer still.

Chinese Characters gripped Kitty's wires. Each line for Character was a slithering black dragon of smoke. They choked Kitty's wires. She lost power and went dark.

I looked for Kitty's locks. Characters were on them as well. They were larger and stronger. They gripped the locks and held them So.

Fucking Black Dragon Characters. They were Chinese Black Magic.

"St. Patrick's Fire!" The Bruce spat from the back bench.

I stared down the Black Magic Dragons. The smug Fuckers mocked me.

I questioned the Bruce: "You can see them?"

"Yes! You've got the green light! Use it! Drive the snakes off!"

The Black Magic Dragons hissed me. They bulged greater about Kitty's locks. I heated my eyes. I wanted to blow them away.

"No!" It was the Kid. He covered my eyes. "The Secret is greater than Chinese Black Magic... Keep It Secret!"

It hummed through my Skull. Somehow I had The Secret. I looked to the Bruce. I looked through his Corpse. I looked unto his Web. It sustained Life. I looked for the Wife's Corpse. Her Web sustained Life as well... She was Not dead.

I peered the Kid: "Your Mother... Did you?"

"No." The Kid relaxed into Kitty's silk upholstery. "I tried to talk her back... But it was always her decision."

I looked to the Bruce: "Did you know?"

"No." He looked to his Wife and smiled. "But I felt it." He laughed... "Did you think I was beating about for nothing?"

The Wife sighed. She smiled. I did Not know what to Think.

The smoke cleared. The silk dragons slithered off with bellied chickenshit meals. Lights flickered and came back on about the Landlord's domain. The Black Magic Dragons were gone.

I furrowed my brow and risked a slight hum. Kitty fired back to Life. Anna glinted into Kitty's dashboard Lights. "I shall fear not evil." She beamed me a glance. "My boyfriend's the toughest motherfucker in the universe." She smiled.

Kitty's door politely opened. It was Shadow Chinese. He graciously gestured an arm for the street. And told me:

"Our difficulties have been removed. My father wishes to see you."

I looked from Shadow Chinese to my hands. Shortboy45 was in my left and my Knuckles were on right. I pocketed my Knuckles and holstered shortboy45 as I rose from Kitty to the street.

I scanned down the street. The door for Base was a few yards away. William and Norma had turned the far corner of the block and were making it up the street for us... Fast.

I turned my head to Kitty. Anna held her front seat forward for the Bruce. I watched as the Bruce cradled the Wife from Kitty's back bench to the street. The Wife still smiled. Almost sighed.

Anna hugged the Kid from Kitty to the street. She encircled him all fierce protection. Sabrina had been her only friend at Onyx.

We started for Base with Shadow Chinese. The door to Base slammed wide. Creeping legs with reaching arms sprawled to the street and fell on hot asses. There they were... The Fucking Dollmakers.

Nasty and Bitch scrambled to stand. William and Norma had reached the door to Base. They both showed soot. And stank smoke. William shoved Norma into Base. Then backed himself into the doorway.

The Dollmakers made it to stand. There they stood all thigh high black vinyl platform boots with six inch heels and Not much else. Covetous eyes darkened for the Kid. Thieving claws moved for him.

Shortboy45 was from my back cat quick and spat four rounds for the street. Nasty and Bitch sprawled asses to asphalt again. Tiny feet showed through shredded vinyl. Anna had blasted their platforms.

Anna and I had spent many a date at the gun range with shortboy45.

Anna passed me the Kid. She focused shortboy45 on the Dollmakers.

She advised them: "I'd blow town if I were you."

She kicked shortboy45's spent shells up their webbed g-strings.

"I hear they like clown Whores in France."

She spun shortboy45's barrel into their weaving faces.

"Or better, gash off to any Chinatown and get yourselves killed."

Anna peered Nasty and Bitch down shortboy45's slide:

"Fuck that. I'm gonna Chinatown you both right now for Sabrina."

Shadow Chinese tossed the Dollmakers a sparked rope. It landed to blow rapid fire about their asses and Nasty and Bitch sprang wide.

William emerged from the doorway as the Dollmakers split down the street. And Anna stood down... William had produced his slingshot.

He leveled it loaded for Bitch with a lead bearing.

I stated: "Tag 'em?"

"You bet." William released the sling. And the lead bearing shot.

"Million cash?" I watched Bitch as she ran. "Favored charity?"

Bitch leaped and arched. William had tagged her ass. He reloaded another lead bearing shot. As he leveled the slingshot for Nasty.

"Black Hole of Calcutta." He requested. "Double or nothing."

"Sure?" I watched. Nasty had neared the bottom of the block.

William released. The lead bearing shot cracked into Nasty.

Nasty stopped, arched and fell to the street. She held herself in painful disbelief. William had cracked the shot. Right up her ass.

William's prowess with a slingshot was legendary. I had seen him smash a rat's skull with a rock from fifty yards. His tagging of the Dollmakers was entirely beyond that.

William had tagged Nasty and Bitch with his 'special' bearings. He made them of ballistics grade lead 'special" combined with his own Blood. He would know their every move.

William knew better than most that Blood is a 'special' fluid.

Blood is not what doctors would have you Think. It is Not just a fluid combining of Dust. It is greater than the sum of its parts.

Doctors and other scientists would Not know. They only know Forms.

They see an atom split then split again and think they know truth. They know nothing. They only know Forms. They have seen only Dust.

Human Being is Not only Dust and neither is Blood. Human Being is also Web and sustained of Web as a Plant is sustained. Web drives the sap of a Plant and so does it drive the Blood of Human Being.

Doctors would have that the Heart drives Blood. What do they know? They only know Form. What drives the sap of a Plant? Where is its Heart?

A Plant needs no Heart to drive sap. It needs only Web and that's all we need. Web drives Blood of Human Being and so does it drive the Heart.

Doctors look at the Heart and see only Form. They think they know from and function. But have it all backwards. The Heart is formed by the function of Web.

Doctors do Not know what to make of the Heart's form. It's formed of voluntary and involuntary muscles. The Heart can function with or without us but what do we function?

We function Web and function it through Soul. We function Soul and function it from Spark. We function Spark and we function what The Christ brought Humanity on Golgotha.

The Heart is a form and all forms are symbol. The Heart is symbol of The Christ. It is symbol of The Christ on Golgotha. It is like a Skull... Turned inside out... Of Itself.

All of this to say that Blood is a 'special' fluid?

Damn straight it is.

Blood is specially driven of Web to specially drive Heart where a 'special' intimacy occurs.

In the center of Heart is a 'special' chamber. There Web torques a vortex to drive Blood through veins. There Blood whirls as a fluid combining of Dust most intimate with Web.

Blood intimates with Soul as it intimates with Web. And thereby intimates with Spark. Blood is a fluid most intimate with Spark.

That is how Blood is a 'special' fluid. It is fluid most intimate with Spark. Blood is Dust on Earth most intimate with God.

But what if you Concentrated from your own Spark through your own Disciplined Soul through your known Web upon a fluid combining of Dust... Of another?

You would Individually Think, Feel and Will through Remembered Living Images of another... And you would thereby know of them.

That is how Dolls work and what the Dollmakers worked for.

And what if you mixed your own Blood with theirs?

You would know of them as you knew yourself.

That is how William had tagged Nasty and Bitch and what he had tagged them for... But I truly digress.

William had tagged the Dollmakers with his 'special' bearings.

He would know their every Fucking move as he knew his own.

Nasty and Bitch gathered their asses and limped from the block. I replaced my Shades about my Skull. Night became night for my eyes. Anna reholstered me shortboy45 and encircled the Kid again.

Young Chinese emerged from the doorway of Base with Norma.

And spoke us all calm:

"We were just about to enjoy tea. Would you join us?"

William and I eyed eachother. It was Not a good time for tea. There was still so much to do. Young Chinese spoke us calmer:

"My Brother will assist with the car." He gently guided Norma toward William and Kitty. "I will assist in your second floor."

Young Chinese gently cradled the Kid from Anna as he calmly gestured his face to the Bruce. And spoke me calmest of all:

"You will join my father on your top floor."

I looked to Anna. She nodded assent. I made into Base. Fast...

But not too fast.

X

I strode past the Landlord's ground floor salon. Climbed the stairs for the first floor of Base. Reached the landing. And stopped right the Fuck there... What a sight.

I had always known Base was riddled with Chinese Black Magic.

I had never expected to see it. Shades no longer mattered to my Light Magnet eyes. I saw what lodged Base and how it had lodged there.

It was smoke upon smoke layered many times. It had condensed into Ethereal tar and formed into Dragons. The Dragons had been formed through Chinese Black Magic... As Chinese Black Magic Characters.

The Characters lodged the structure of Base. They had lodged there as Chinese Black Magic until Not a speck of Base was Not tarred of Chinese Black Magic Character Dragons.

I looked at the Dragons curious. They looked back complacently. I was certainly familiar to them. I was wasting time on Black Magic.

I entered through the door and headed for the kitchen. The first floor of Base was undisturbed. No47 sat with No22 at the kitchen table.

They glowed opalescent as they Concentrated upon Prayers. Their Rosaries shone like constellations in their hands. No11 was Not with them.

I climbed the direct stairs for the top floor of Base. Dollmaker heel scuffs ran down the steps. Just Like tire skids for a cliff.

I stood to the second floor landing. I Concentrated through the wall for the surgical room. The Dragons there forced Characters fast from my line of vision.

I cocked my Skull back in surprise. The Dragons looked me with apprehension. I relaxed Concentration. The Dragons eased their Characters wider and afforded me a view.

The surgical room had been cleaned and readied. Young Chinese was already there. I stared down Base's foundation. The Dragons there were established massive. They stared me solemn.

I tilted my head tentative and raised an eyebrow in request. The Dragons disestablished mass and allowed me a view of the garage.

William had brought Kitty in. The Wife showed strong growth of vitals in the Bruce's arms. The Kid's were wavering in Anna's.

William and Young Chinese were going to need help in the surgical room. I had to make it fast through tea with the Landlord. I made for the top floor of Base as the Dragons reformed Characters.

I entered the top floor and removed my Shades. I gripped them back to my Skull. They mattered. I was Light Magnet blind without them.

"Please excuse my sunglasses." My eyes were Not recovering from Light Magnet blindness. "I'm experiencing difficulty with eyes."

Tiny fingers took my hands from my Skull and lead me into the room. Tiny feet preceded me. They tapped the floor. They were bound. It was the Landlord's Wife.

She brought me to the room's center:

"You sit."

I did. On the carpet there.

"Drink tea. It help your eyes." She touched my face. Her hands were smiling. I had never seen her smile before.

Her feet tapped away. They tapped back. They had brought tea.

She lowered the tray before me. It stopped above the carpet on something soft. She took my hand, placed me a delicate cup and filled it. Her hands tingled joy:

"Drink."

I did. It helped my eyes alright. Light cooled. My pupils dialed wide... Upon one Hell of a sight.

The tea tray was on a Masonic Frock Coat. The body within was on its back with arms folded Jesuit style across its chest with its eyes opened wide and staring for heaven.

One of the pupils was split. It was No11. His debt was paid.

The Landlord sat across from me. His Wife knelt by his side. She beamed over No11's corpse as she produced a 22 Magnum, placed it upon No11's folded arms and beamed wider. The Landlord spoke:

"We are pleased you will not be leaving us after all."

I replied: "As am I after all..."

I could feel my Soul shape a question mark of Web above my head.

I did Not know what to be pleased about or how. Was it an offer to redeem Consequences of my actions to him? Was it a demand I do So?

I had used the Landlord's building for fifteen years in return for saving his Sons. I had overstayed my pay. Violence had been turned upon his domain in Consequence of my overstay.

Then there was No11. It was No11 who had kidnapped the Landlord's Sons and held them ransom. The Dishonorable Bastard had attempted ultimate violence against the Landlord and his Wife. Dishonor and Bastard had been returned unto their Lives by my actions.

Then again there was the Landlord's Wife. What was she beaming about? It was stupid to bullshit the Landlord. So I told him:

"... I do Not understand."

A deft gesture took my Shades from my Skull. Another folded them into the pocket of my Bloody Tee Shirt. A deft voice gestured me:

"Everything is alright." It assured.

It was the Cardinal. He sat beside me in Harris Tweeds. His M4 bulged the small of his back. And it still glowed of Rose Fire.

"Perhaps I can explain." His voice gestured the Landlord for assent. The Landlord assented. As his Wife beamed over No11.

"Madam is quite pleased with your treatment of this dishonourable man. She is overjoyed to have taken life from last bastard son of Chiang Kai Shek. She has requested her honourable husband to gift you this building. It is her sole request of him in many years of marriage. He has consented. She considers you her great friend."

That was the short version. I saw the long of it as the Cardinal spoke me short... I was still experiencing difficulty with eyes.

My Soul had grasped question mark of Web above my head and forged it to exclamation point. It descended my Skull and split my brain. Severed halves fused my eyes to rejoin in frontal cavity of Skull.

My vision waxed force. Light bypassed dimensions and surged from Present to Past. Light had become Time but Time had become Space to be visioned... It was disorientating as Hell.

I stared down Light and visioned Time through Space... In reverse.

Nasty and Bitch sprawled asses from street through air into Base unto Young Chinese. They heeled scuffs from steps as hauled face up stairs by thumb in eye force. Young Chinese undiscovered them upon top floor landing. He backed into top floor. The Dollmakers crept backs away from wanting to collect my Dolls.

Young Chinese turned to watch his Mother back from other stairs. She had descended for tea. She turned to her Husband. She bowed his hand. A pearled tear ascended from it unto her grateful eye.

The Landlord removed a shimmering rose from her hand. He extended it over the floor. A massive Dragon breached floor to receive the rose into its teeth. It submerged. The Landlord's Wife unbowed of submission and backed from her Husband.

Young Chinese was with the Cardinal at a shattered window. One by one five chickenshits flew from the street to their arms and were replaced about the floor. Young Chinese backed calm from the room.

The massive Dragon breached the floor and roared Rose Fire about the room. It submerged solemn and Rose Fire surged the air. Five chickenshits one by one lifted from floor. A bullet each emerged throats and resolved them Alive. Rose Fire barreled five bullets chambered into the Cardinal's M4 revolver.

Five M16s twitched to hesitation in chickenshit hands. Brains flew my silverplate safe into No11's Skull. The Landlord's Wife had Not hesitated. The five chickenshits still hesitated. The Cardinal had chambered 'special' bullets and Rose Fire hung the air. Literally.

Rose Fire surged from the air and barreled sixth bullet chambered into the Cardinal's M4. Sixth chickenshit flew from street to top floor of Base. The Cardinal reholstered his full chambered M4.

The Landlord imploded Blood from street and reformed Character for War. M16 twitched to hesitation in sixth chickenshit's hand as the Landlord's Wife descended into the floor... She had Not hesitated.

No11 had bowed directly over her. His left eye had a split pupil. Something always remains to identify a No to a Client despite my efforts. Sixth chickenshit hesitated how about what had preceded.

The Landlord dissipated War Character. No11 unbowed trigger of 22 Magnum from chickenshits, removed barrel from third eye, withdrew Note and backed to before Landlord and Cardinal lowered arms. Six chickenshits withdrew from top floor of Base.

The Landlord's Wife watched there from beneath floorboards hidden unbeknown. Four had awaited six chickenshits on top floor of Base. The Landlord had figured the Cardinal's intent and happily agreed to the Cardinal's suggestion No11 join them there.

Young Chinese was to coax six chickenshits to top floor of Base. The Landlord dispatched lethal forces to dispose of mercenaries. The Cardinal requested Shadow Chinese assemble the silk dragons.

The Landlord's Wife waxed Despair... Not Faith. As Her husband had insisted on confronting them with the Cardinal. Shadow Chinese had brought notice upon rejoining his father's house. Mercenaries were encroaching upon the Landlord's domain for the Kid and my Dolls.

I had to stop them.

I tried to stand. I could Not. I was laid out on the sofa. How had I gotten there? The Landlord's Wife was over me. Her tiny hand was cooling my hot Skull... What the hell was wrong with me?

"Thank you." I had forgotten manners. "I'm overwhelmed."

"Tea help no more." Her hand was ice. "You pass out." She smiled. "We help you now."

I looked the room. No11 was gone. A war cot was in room's center. My eyes were fried Jello. The Landlord's Wife shook me insistent:

"You pass out!"

The Kid was on the cot. I looked his vitals. My vision blistered.

Tiny hands ice plunged my eyes: "You pass out Now!"

My fried eyes iced. And I did.

Y

I had Not heard my Father's voice since he had perished in Temple Flames. He had cradled my Mother's fried corpse. She had given up the Phantom. He was about to as well. He had commended me:

"TO LOVE!"

No man is perfect. But I will tell you how my Father was. He had never left me in doubt of his Love. It sounded in his every word to me. It showed in his every gesture about me. And it resounded through my subconsciousness:

"Son..."

I was still on the sofa: "Father... what is it?"

"You have Burning Skeleton Fever."

I did. I was pure Web. I arose smoldering from prone position. I looked at myself upon the sofa. I was a Skeleton. My outer bones were smoking charcoal. My marrow was ember fire.

I was grateful to hear my Father's voice again. But more so that he understood: I was a Skeleton on Fire.

I looked about the room. The Kid was still on the war cot. He was a Man of Crystal. The Cardinal bent over him and whispered in his ear. The Landlord's family held the Compass Rose of the room. The Landlord faced North. His wife faced South. Young Chinese had the West and Shadow Chinese held the East.

I faced the Stars and had passed into superconsciousness.

I made for the Stars. I was pure Soul. I spiraled for Saturn. The Exsusiai were Beings of Form. They figured the substance of Earth.

I spiraled for the Sun. The Archai were Willing Beings. They figured Human Corpse. They were lead of God The Father.

I reached the Sun. The Archangels were Feeling Beings. They figured Human Web. They were lead of The Christ and figured Destiny of Humanity.

Darkness figured within Sun. It was ejected. I spiraled with it.

It became Earth. The Angels were Thinking Beings. They figured Human Soul. They were lead of The Holy Ghost. Darkness figured within Earth. It was ejected. I did Not spiral with it.

It became the Moon. Humanity split into sexes. The Archangels ejected Mars from the Sun. Its substance passed through Earth. Iron became Earth Matter. Human Blood became as Cathode Polar.

I spiraled with the Earth. Eons tore through Time. Seven Rishis arose in Ancient India. They initiated course of Human Flesh to become Human Being. Zarathustra arose in Ancient Persia. He saw The Christ approach Earth as Ohura Mazda. He saw satan opposing HIM as Ahriman.

Lucifer incarnated in Ancient Egypt to bestow Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained. It was Star Wisdom. I saw Humans struggle on Earth about nothing Earth important.

Ancient Greece was established. Socrates saw the Daemon. He saw it as head of Web above head of Human Flesh. Guardian Angels were the Daemons. They Thought through head of Web for Human Flesh prior to Human Being. Plato discoursed of his. He thereof wrote in dialogs.

Aristotle forethought more individual. He therefore wrote more modern. Pupils were sculpture carved with mouths wondered open.

Year 333BC tolled. I saw the danger. Human Flesh Not Evolved Human Being would be prey to Lucifer's Fallen Angels and be Flesh Fallen through Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained. Human Flesh would become but the Beast... I saw the danger would last but 666 Years.

Year 333AD tolled. The Christ had achieved Golgotha. Spark of God was Borne on Earth by Human Beings. It was turning point for Time.

The Devil doled choler. Dark Ages commenced Medieval. Renaissance dawned resplendent. It was but Grecian revisitation. Humans still struggled Selfindulgent about Hindering shadows cast. Machiavelli heralded Unscrupulousness. Coming events cast shadows of Sickness and Death. Goya would paint it all with vision resounding through acute deafness. Goethe summarized it all in the blossom of German culture and flowered prophetic at the end of his age.

Year 1879 dawned. Mich-a-el assumed mantle of our age. It is Right for all Beings to Evolve. The problem is when they do Not. Lucifer and satan have Not. Mich-a-el has. He stands for our Time evolving from Archangel to Archai.

That's Right, my fellow Christian Soldiers...

Mich-a-el, Chief of Archangels, Countenance of The Christ, Who announced HIM to Moses through Burning Bush now stands for our Time to bestride our Battle. As He bestrode prior for Heaven's.

He who smote the Dragon who hated The Christ now stands for our Time with the Evolving power of Archai to work unto our Corpses.

Rudolph Steiner arose in Central Europe to summarize it all and point the way until Selfindulgent, Unscrupulous black lodges of degenerate elitism brought him down Hindered unto Sickness then Death. It was slow dawning shame for his disciples who defended him Not.

Modern science dawned Atomic. Sickness and Death had taken toll and paid Humanity back with Materialistic Domination Denying of Spirit. Satan had incarnated in our Time. Our Battle had begun.

I was pure Spark. What of our Battle? What of Love as Freedom in battle against evil? How of The Christ? What of The Secret? How?

I spiraled to Jupiter and merged its vaporous storms. Its dozen Moons mocked me cold. I was heated Corpse. The Moons multiplied gross. And made for me. They clung my Flesh iced. They were ice.

I opened my eyes. I was in the tub. It was full of ice. But I was Not cold... And the Cardinal sat upon the tub's edge. He told me:

"They do not care about us anymore." He was dressed in Harris Tweed slacks and vest. His Regimental London Scottish tie was loosened about his unbuttoned collar.

"At least not as they used to." His matching jacket was folded on the floor... It was a pillow for his holstered Webley M4 revolver.

"Who?" I was beginning to cool.

"Exsusiai as Beings of Form. Archai as Willing Beings. Archangels as Feeling Beings. Angels as Thinking Beings." He reached forward to check my forehead temperature.

"Tell me about it." His hand was cool certainty upon my brow.

"Prior Golgotha it was part of Their Evolution to Evolve us. It was right They Evolve our Corpse, Web and Soul suitable vessels for receipt of Spark. Post Golgotha it is part of Our Evolution that We Evolve Corpse, Web and Soul suitable vessels for Spark."

"Christ." I was cooling off rapid. The ice was starting to sting.

"Yes." He removed his hand from my brow. "HE still cares."

I made to stand from the tub. He steadied me to remain seated.

"Not yet." He settled to tub's edge. "Exsusiai, Archai, Archangel and Angel can still take Interest in us. We must take Interest in them first. This is most true for our Guardian Angel."

My limbs were going numb. My Skull was still heated. The Cardinal reached forward. Single handedly gripped my Skull. And told me to:

"Exhale."

I did. He dunked my Skull to beneath the iced water.

The Cardinal was right. Sleep is sacred in proportion to our day's defined experience. It does Not matter what Life brings to you nor how it is brought. What matters is how you defined the experience.

How do you experience your day? Are you Devoted? Do you Serenely face Destiny? Are you Sensitive to all Events and Occurrences in your Surroundings? Does your Devotion extend to all other Living Beings and Things? Did you gain Insight?

These efforts define our day's experience. They involve Thinking, Feeling and Willing of Soul. Develop Faith, Love and Hope of Web. Evolve Light, Life and Being of Corpse. They determine our Sleep as Sacred... Or Not.

Angels are Thinking Beings. They relate to Thinking, Feeling and Willing. Guardian Angels are Interested in our Thinking, Feeling and Willing. And are especially Interested in wether our efforts are Devoted, Serene and Sensitive with Insight.

Guardian Angels await us especially upon the occasion of our Sleep. They relate to us with Interest all the better if our efforts to define our experienced day have been for the Good.

For example... Sleep commences. Corpse with Web remain where you lie. Soul with Spark spiral unto Cosmos. But remain connected to where you lie by a tenuous Current... Sever that current and Die.

Your Guardian Angel accompanies your Soul with Spark in spiral and relates you unto Cosmos. Your Guardian Angel does so with Interest if your efforts to define the experience of your day have been for the Good. Your efforts determine your Sleep as Sacred... Or Not.

Just Imagine how your Thinking, Feeling and Willing efforts relate with Interest to Your Guardian Angel. It's certainly just to do so as Imagination is Providence of Angels.

You further spiral unto Cosmos. You are bound for further realm of the Archangels. Your Guardian Angel further relates you there with Interest dependent upon wether your efforts have determined you as Worthy.

Archangels are Feeling Beings and relate to Faith, Love and Hope. They are especially Interested wether your Thinking, Feeling and Willing efforts of Soul have developed into Faith, Love and Hope of Web. Archangels will Feel you... And know.

Just Imagine Thinking, Feeling and Willing as Ideas. Inspiration realizes Ideas Loved as Ideals. It's just similar for Archangels. They inhale our Worthy Ideas to exhale our realized Ideals. They Inspire Ideas as Ideals. Inspiration is Providence of Archangels.

You further spiral. Your Guardian Angel further relates you unto Cosmos with Interest if you have determined yourself Worthy. You are bound for further realm of the Archai.

Archai are Willing Beings. They relate to Life, Light and Being. Archai are Interested wether your Thinking, Feeling and Willing efforts of Soul developed into Faith, Love and Hope of Web have evolved Light, Life and Being of Corpse.

Just Imagine an Idea Inspired as Ideal into Matter. It's just a matter of Intuition. Intuition is Providence of Archai. It Is A State Of Absolute Certainty. It has nothing to do with nebulous guesses about what might be something or the other.

Imagine Thinking, Feeling and Willing of a Matter with Faith, Love and Hope until you actually are Light, Life and Being of a Matter.

Inspiration realizes Intuit as Into-It. Intuition as Into-It-I-On. Intuition is actually to be Life, Light and Being of what Matters.

What of Exsusiai as Beings of Form and Their Providence? Just Imagine Inspiration of Intuition as Into-It-Ion. What of your approach unto Their realm? Who the hell do you Think you are?

I'm certain Rudolph Steiner made it. I doubt the Cardinal has. I know myself fortunate to have passed Archangels on some passable occasion...

My Skull was single handedly lifted from beneath iced tub water.

And I was told to: "Breath!"

My lungs gasped air. My head stung iced cold. The Cardinal still sat upon the tub's edge. He looked at me with cool determination:

"I await your Judgments." He helped me out of the iced tub.

Z

I made the Fuckers wait until the sickle Moon.

There had been much to plan for. Two times the clients. Four times the complications. Eight times the contingencies. Squared what for The Secret and how. I did Not sleep for shit.

How did you find what I wrote above about Sacred Sleep? Too Imaginative, Inspired and Intuitive? Too Ideal? Too Good or deliberate obtuse to be True?

Then Fuck off and Die. All of this is written plain as day. Get out a Dictionary. Look up each word in sequence I wrote them. I wrote it all deliberate direct.

Is that too difficult?

Then Fuck off! Be like the rest? Die like them too!

Ignorant, Insentient and Inert of Soul. Despairing, Loathing and Anxious within Web. Darkness unto Death. Then Nothing but Corpse.

Life will Deal you Punishment. You will be Beaten. Obsessed. Anxiously avoiding Destiny. Insensitive to all Surroundings. Disavowing of all Else. Deluded.

You will Not Sleep for shit. Sleep is Microcosmic Death. It is practice for Macrocosmic Life beyond Death. You will Die! Your Life beyond Death will be for shit...

Such shit is what tortures my Skull. So had The Secret. And how.

I contemplated the sickle Moon from atop the tower of that ugly piece of crap the Mark's people call an office. It was Judgment Time. There had been much to observe and arrange:

The Guru still held the deed to Onyx's original location. He had run there with the Dollmakers. Nikki was dead. She had died from smoke inhalation hauling the Guru's unconscious ass to safety as Onyx's final location burned to Hell. Dumb Whore. She had really loved that self aggrandizing sociopathic Fuck.

The King and the Mark had met with the Guru on separate occasions. They were desperate for the Kid. Each had shelled huge payment to acquire The Secret. They had gotten shit and would have to answer their people for It. The Guru pimped them a Dollmaker each.

Nasty went with the King. Bitch went for the Mark. The intent was for each to Whore out their Dolls. They would provide information regarding me and the Kid.

The Kid was just about dead. We had him on coma maintenance and Life support beside the Wife in the surgical room. The Wife was just about conscious. It was cruel irony. The Landlord arranged Black Magic Protection to deflect Dollmaker inquiries regarding the Kid.

The Dollmakers Whore lied to their new Johns. They soothe said the Kid was fine. The Dollmakers further lied to the King and the Mark regarding my intentions. They did Not mean to. They truly believed I intended to fork over the Kid. That was the Cardinal's doing.

The Cardinal had disestablished my Doll of him. He then reestablished it as William. He disestablished that and reestablished it as me. He then disestablished that and reestablished it as the King and the Mark combined. The established result functioned as disinformation conduit.

Nasty and Bitch would search for me. They would get the Cardinal posing as me. The Cardinal would route them for William. William would know their desires and route them to the Mark and the King. The Dollmaker search would result in desires of the Mark and the King that I fork over the Kid being affirmed... It was brilliant.

That's what makes him the Cardinal. It's how that makes a Master.

It's what made me heed his advise on how to Deal with The Secret.

I was still atop the tower of that ugly piece of crap. I looked down through it to asses the progression of arrangements. I was still experiencing difficulty with eyes. I had adjusted my eyes unto x-ray metaphorical vision for the moment. I could see them all for what they were.

The King was a Big Baby. His people were Pink Rats. The Mark was an Insect of Prey. His people were Filthy Chickens. The Landlord had deployed Black Army Ants. They disposed of Rats and Chickens with stealth efficiency.

The King and the Mark would soon emerge the observation lounge of that ugly crap tower unwittingly alone with Nasty and Bitch. Fuck them. We would be waiting. I made from atop the tower for its top floor observation lounge. The others awaited me. I could see them as well.

Anna still looked like herself but more So. Shadow and Young Chinese looked like small boys as when I had rescued them of Dishonorable Bastard's ransom. It made me wonder how traumas effect Souls throughout Life... and what for.

William was impersonating the Kid. Damned if he did Not look just like him to my x-ray metaphorical eyes. And Norma looked like one Serious Rabbit standing by his side.

No47 and No22 appeared exactly as they had when I had first Taken them. But more pious. And that despite what I had physically done to them. Their Tasks of Redemption were complete. They were ready.

I entered the observation lounge and looked down through the ugly crap tower to asses progression. Nasty and Bitch were Fuck Spider Whores accompanying Big Baby King and Prey Insect Mark. Pink Rats and Filthy Chickens had been disposed of by the Black Army Ants.

It was show Time.

I made to join William as the Kid in the center of the observation lounge. City night lights twinkled the night sky before and behind us. I wondered what the Landlord would make of them. He could read those City night lights like I Ching.

I kneeled behind William. I faced North. He faced South. I raised my arms. Norma as Rabbit lowered two bags about my shoulders. The bags were Chinese Black Magic Protection Purses. And were for the Protection of Anna's cats, Henry and Anais.

The Dollmakers had set up Anna's pets to receive any Return Blow from their Dolls of me. Any Blow sent me that I Returned for its sender would hit my girlfriend's cats. Nasty and Bitch would pay for that. Norma as the Rabbit backed off to the Northwest corner.

Anna came to me from the Southeast corner.

She reached into the small of my back, pulled out shortboy45 and kissed me for luck. She stroked the Protection Purses. Henry and Anais purred. They were Tiny Tigers to my x-ray metaphor eyes. I adjusted my eyes for normal vision.

Anna returned to her corner opposite Norma.

The room was dark. We had cut all power from the entire ugly plaza crap complex. Shadow Chinese awaited the East wing foyer with No47 and Young Chinese awaited West wing foyer with No22. William and I fingered starting beads on our Rosaries and made with the Prayers.

Nasty and the King arrived East. Bitch and the Mark arrived West.

The doors from foyers to observation lounge were closed. I could still hear the muffled confusion. The King and the Mark realized they had arrived with their Dollmakers but Not with their people. I heard their muffles still to silence.

No47 and No22 had passed the Nick Turner Notes.

I furrowed my brow to hum my Skull. Volitional Light seeped from beneath the foyer doors to the observation lounge. I had Lit the foyers for better Note reading. Nick Turner Notes always say the same thing:

"End My Life for What I Have Done."

I questioned of the Volitional Light as It seeped from beneath the foyer doors. It informed me of Notes understood. I requested of It for happen together. It seeped of my requests.

Magnums together reported from East and West. No47 and No22 were Blown. My requests were fulfilled. No47 and No22 debts were paid.

And I envied them.

I cease furrowed my brow to cease hum my Skull. Volitional Light wavered then ceased from beneath foyer doors. There was a rustle of bags from East and West. Then a flicker of lights. Blow Torch ignition sounded from the dark foyers. The first Blow was for me.

"You win?" William and I had bet on it. He backed into Norma's corner. Flames erupted within foyer doors East and West. I had reached my Rosary Golgotha. I confirmed recipient of my bet to William:

"Suicide Prevention." Foyer doors blew open. Flames emerged East and West. The Dollmakers had Blow Torched their Dolls of me. Out had come resultant Dolls of Flame. They looked an awful lot like me. But were double my size. I raised Rosary Golgotha to my lips.

The Flame Dolls resultant recognized me. East and West they came for me. Henry and Anais stirred with foreboding in the Purses. I raised Rosary Golgotha to my brow.

The Flame Dolls engulfed me. They wanted to become my Flesh. They desired my Flesh become Flames. I furrowed my brow about Golgotha.

I brow hummed from Skull: "Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum."

Henry and Anais meow spat. The Flame Dolls disengaged my Flesh. They resultant Returned East and West. Foyer doors Blew closed behind them. Nasty and Bitch let out Blood curdle screams from behind closed doors.

Henry and Anais purred their Protection Purses. Flame Dolls had become Dollmaker Flesh. Dollmaker Flesh had burst Aflame. Nasty and Bitch had gotten what was theirs. Fuck them.

Foyer doors Blew open. Out came Dolls of Flame. They looked like the Kid and were just his size. The Dollmakers had known the Kid well. He had Not stood in their thoughts twice his size as I had.

Nasty and Bitch had to bring their Dolls to our little rendezvous.

Their Dolls of the Kid had ignited upon the Return Blows of their Flame Dolls of me. Flame Dolls of the Kid now resultant stood the observation lounge. They looked to William. But did Not recognize him as the Kid.

Anna stood from her corner to offer the Dolls a shortboy45 option.

Her arm Blew flames. The North observation window Blew clear. Cold night air Blew in. The Flame Dolls Blew out of the lounge. And for Chinatown. Anna came to me, collected Henry and Anais safe from my shoulders then stood back to the Southeast corner.

The King and the Mark stumbled back from East and West foyers as Nasty and Bitch continued to burn. Shadow and Young Chinese kept foyer doors open so that Dollmaker firelight Lit the observation lounge. It was grim. But cozy.

The King and the Mark were dazed confusion. They stared at Nasty and Bitch still on fire. They still held magnums and Nick Turner Notes in their hands. I furrowed my brow and looked to the Notes.

The Notes burst Aflame. The King and the Mark hot dropped their Notes. William stood from the Northeast corner. As The King and the Mark followed with their faces. William came to stand by my side in observation lounge center.

Play cards you are dealt: William had the same build and size as the Kid sans the pasty wasted flesh. Anna had made William up to look wasted. William had done the rest.

William can Act. He directs our Mystery Plays at the Monastery. He appeared just like the Kid in the Dollmaker firelight. Pretty just like the Kid. But with a Chinese Black Magic Protection Purse full of Dolls.

The King and the Mark still held their magnums. The King quickly dropped his. The Mark slowly pointed his to me. The King made to wave the Mark off with his still bandaged hand. The Mark ignored the King and dry clicked away on his empty magnum.

Flame spat from dead South. The magnum smashed free of the Mark's shattered hand. Anna grimly returned to her Southeast corner. She had punish shot the Mark with shortboy45 for dry clicking away on her boyfriend. And the King thought it was hilarious.

He let rip with the jagged croak and made with the pinky bouncing.

"You still like the Kid?" The King pinky pointed to me. Then to William as the Kid. As William wrapped an arm about my shoulder.

"Loves me." William even sounded just like the Kid. "Like his own fucking brother." He eased his other arm into the Doll Protection Purse.

"So that's how it is." The King stiffened spine. Jutted his chin. Toe stood to pinky point around me for the Mark. "What about him?"

I told the King: "I detest him." And...

I did. It is one thing to Ignorant Accept crime as Truth. It is another to Material Dominate in Denial of Spirit. Gangsters are against Standard Course of Justice. Notoriety is their business gone bad. I can respect that.

Corporate Hacks are filth beyond measure. Standard Course of Justice shields their crime. Notoriety badges as their honor.

Corporations dissimulate Truth to Material Dominate and Deny Individual Spirit. Corporate executives know this is So. The Fucking Hacks do it anyway. I cannot respect that. Fuck them.

Dollmaker firelight had died. Shadow and Young Chinese emerged out from the foyers. Shadow Chinese came fast from the East behind the King. Young Chinese stood calm from the West behind the Mark. As I gestured to the Mark with my middle finger.

And smiled grim for the King: "He's toast."

The Mark made to object. Young Chinese arm locked him from behind. The Mark made to scream. Anna choked his mouth... With shortboy45.

I looked with respect to the King.

"You're free." I gestured my face for the East foyer exit. "Go."

William had Not expected my offer and was shocked. He almost broke character. His arm slightly twitched away from his Doll Protection Purse. The King looked to William's Purse. Then to my face:

"I'll pay more." The King looked to William's Purse again with a dawning Interest. Then necked his face closer to mine. "Personal."

"Not Personal." I necked my face closer to his. "Go."

"I can't." He stepped in closer to join his necked face. "Without scars."

"You don't want the scars I leave." I stepped right to him like we were going to make out and slid on my Knuckles. "This is your last chance."

"Scar me." The King stepped back and relaxed himself ready for a beating. I stepped back as well and relaxed myself ready to give it to him.

"You're going get what is yours." I let swing with the Knuckles.

The King fell fast into the awaiting arms of Shadow Chinese. I had swung for Blood and broken bone for exposed marrow. I bent forward to examine the King's face. I had swung well. He was out cold. And ripe for Judgment. But I had to be sure the King got what was his.

It was Time to confirm prior Investigation. I Concentrated...

I sensed the King's Soul. It had Not spiraled off as in Sleep. His Willing Intuited damage of Corpse. His Feeling Inspired his Web to repair of the damage. His Thinking Imagined all sorts of crap.

I found the King's Spark. It had long lost Interest in the King's consciousness. It had long found no way to relate for the King as Conscience. I would help the King's long lost Spark find the way.

Shadow Chinese had laid out the King face up prone on the floor. I bent down a knee to bend over the King. William gave over the Doll of the King from his Purse to my hand. As I looked into the King.

I adjusted axis of vision to within the King's brain. I used the King's cerebral cortex as axis of Concentration and read his Web.

... There's something I had neglected to mention earlier.

Web combined of Soul rectified of Spark functions to establish Images Living as Remembrance. Thinking, Feeling and Willing of Soul establish Images Living Remembered within Web. Mystery of Memory is thereby resolved. Go back and figure it out yourself.

I read the King's Images Living Remembered and confirmed prior Doll Investigation: The King was born in Soviet Russia. He was reared in poverty abject even by Soviet standards of that Time.

It went a long way to explain how the King had been Forced to Accept crime as Truth through Circumstance beyond his control.

I questioned the King's Spark to confirm prior Investigation: The King had been an actual King in a prior incarnation. It went long way to explain what Drove the King to transcend his Circumstances.

I read the King's Web again to confirm: The King was a bed wetter. He had wet bed as child in fearful need of warmth. He had laughed about it. The King still wet bed as adult. He still laughed about it...

The King still laughed for fearful shame. The laugh itself had become something more. It had become proxy for the King's lack.

The King's laugh was ironic substitute for lack of Conscience.

Prior Investigation was confirmed: The jagged croak was the long lost way for Spark Interest to enter consciousness and relate as Conscience for the King. He was Fucked.

The King's Doll was face up prone in my hand. I folded my Knuckles into the ripened gut of the King's Wax Doll. Anna's fermented vial contents oozed from its cracking Wax folds. The King unconsciously gut reacted to his Doll's plight.

I let the fermented vial contents ooze into the King's Bloody bone broken marrow exposed face. I softly whispered for the King's ear:

"You."

I crushed the King's Doll down. Until it covered the King's face.

"Will Live."

I bored nostril holes through the Doll Wax with my middle finger for the King to breath. Then whispered softer for the King's ear:

"With Yourself."

I spread the Doll Wax smooth. Until it sealed the King's face.

"Alone."

I backed off the King's ear. I was still single knee bent over him. I eased hands, straightened arms and braced his shoulders onto the floor. I adjusted my axis of vision, lightly furrowed brow and quickly glanced about the Doll Wax sealed face of the King. Then ceased furrow. And took a look...

The Doll Wax had melted to a sheen seal about the King's face. The King had regained consciousness. He looked at me with pain through his dark glasses from beneath a Waxy sheen. Fuck me. I had Knuckle slugged a mobster with his dark glasses still donned.

The King made to laugh at me through his Doll Wax. Fuck him.

The Doll Wax popped a bubble about the King's lips and plopped back into his mouth. The slightest hiccup of a frog laugh made from his throat. He choked. His lips made round. His eyes went wide. He said...

"...Oh!"

The King closed his eyes. He backed his neck into the floor. He attempted to laugh. He hiccuped and choked. His lips made round. His eyes went wide. Again he said...

"...Oh!"

Over and over he attempted to laugh to the same result...

"...Oh!"

I had Wax sealed a Deal for the King's Spark through his Doll. Any attempt to laugh would Interest the King's Spark. It would take an Interest in the King's consciousness. It would then relate for the King as Conscience.

The King's laugh was now ironic conduit for Spark of Conscience:

"...Oh!"

It was hilarious.

I arose from the King. Looked to Shadow Chinese. Gestured my face for the East foyer exit. No need to confirm my next Judgment... I told Shadow Chinese:

"Get him away." I turned for the Mark. "Before he gets hurt."

Shadow Chinese arm dragged the King away. William and Norma went to the West foyer. I stood into the Mark. Young Chinese released the Mark's arms. Anna yanked shortboy45 free of the Mark's mouth.

The Mark darted eyes about the observation lounge. Cold night air from the shattered North window tossed his mousse salt and pepper hair. I looked at the Mark dead serious and made with the Masonic Death gestures:

Throat slit. Heart torn. Bowls ripped. Others Not revealed in ossific tomes extant. I did them all then questioned the Mark:

"From where do you come?"

The Mark wild eyed the lounge. His Skull turned about the room. He had heard the dragging sound. William and Norma were hauling forth No22. The Mark mouthed wide as the fresh blown Corpse emerged from the West. I further questioned the Mark:

"You do Not come from the East?"

William and Norma placed No22 face up prone on the floor between the Mark and I. William arranged arms of No22. Upper arms placed perpendicular from shoulders. Forearms bent ninety degrees. Both hands above head with palms up.

William had arranged arms of No22 to start of Masonic Distress gesture. He had also arranged right hand of No22 to expose the degree. The Mark gasped Distress. No22 had borne the mutilated hand of a Highest Degree Mason.

The Mark was but a lowly Masonic Hack. He was Fucked.

I adjusted axis of vision to about entire skin of No22. I furrowed brow to hum Skull. No22 glow illumined white. I routed my Will for through fresh blown Corpse of No22. I Willed No22 continue Masonic Distress gesture.

Arms of No22 rotated from shoulders. Palms slap dropped to floor. Arms of No22 straightened elbows. Palms drag slid to thighs. The Mark Distress fell to kneel before Highest Degree Masonic Corpse of No22.

I bent down a knee to join the Mark over No22. I hummed Skull to continue with questions. I spoke without lips through The Secret. My voice menace echoed the observation lounge from all Space:

"What did you come for?"

The Mark gaped me speechless. He drop returned eyes to illumine glow Corpse of No22. I further brow hummed Skull. I Willed No22 make with the Masonic Handshakes.

"Did you come for The Secret?"

First Knuckle. Second Knuckle. Third Knuckle. Lion's Paw. Others unknown to the Mark. No22 had taught me them all. I did them all now with High Masonic Corpse of No22.

"Did you come for the Kid?"

I had continued to question the Mark through The Secret. My voice still menace echoed the lounge from all Space. The Mark looked at me in fear. I looked to him with menace:

"What about your Son?"

I made with The Shadow laugh. The Mark made to escape. He was made to stop. Young Chinese had arm locked the Mark from behind. Shadow Chinese fast appeared from the East and choked the Mark's mouth of shortboy45. I ceased furrow brow hum from Skull.

Masonic Corpse of No22 dimmed for Darkness. The observation lounge echoed to still menace. The Mark was now captive of the Landlord's Twin sons. He was double Fucked. It served him right in the End.

Corporate Hacks never figure on receiving personal Consequences. They only Corporate figure for Material Domination in Denial of Spirit. They only figure for receipt and Individuals are Not of Consequence.

Fucking Hacks. They Corporate figure for shit.

Spirit is Truth. Denial has Consequences. Domination is Personal. Individuals Matter. Truth is Consequence of Personal Matter. The receipt is figured in Hell. We shall all receive ours in the End.

The Mark was about to receive his. The Mark should never have figured for chickenshit mercenaries to violate the Landlord's domain. Fuck him.

Shadow Chinese return tossed Anna shortboy45. Anna tossed over Young Chinese her Switchblade. Anna's Switchblade snapped open.

Young Chinese slit the Mark's throat.

Shadow Chinese knife struck with right hand into the Mark's slit neck. He fist clenched the Mark's larynx. He wrenched torn voice box from the Mark's throat.

Young Chinese tore deep into beneath the Mark's ribs.

Shadow Chinese knife struck left hand with Kung Fu force deep into the Mark's chest. He claw gripped. He fist reaped. The Mark's beat heart was rip removed.

I axis visioned for about entire beat Bleeding mess of the Mark.

Young Chinese ripped Hara Kari. Shadow Chinese double hand helped. The Mark's bowls dropped to floor. I furrow brow hummed Skull for the Mark and activated The Secret. The Mark was four times Fucked.

I Willed his Corpse to stand. I Felt his Web to sustain. I Thought his Soul to attention. It Interested his Spark. It related to near Masonic Death. It related him a Conscience with standing Interest.

The Mark stood as Corporate filth. He was Fucked beyond measure. He was a Corpse sustained of Web. He was at attention in a Soul related to Spark. He stood near Masonic Death with a Conscience.

I stood axis visioned about entire Masonic Death mess of the Mark.

"You."

I spoke the Mark from The Secret with lips for him to read. His jiggle shock eyes spoke me without lips from terror for my pity.

"Have died..."

My voice Judgment echoed the lounge. William produced the Doll of the Mark. He placed it atop the Mark's shock jiggle Skull. I brow hummed for the Mark's Skull. I have Not pity for Corporate Hacks.

"By Yourself."

The Mark's Skull glow illumined to jiggle stop still. The Mark's Doll popped hot ooze. It melted to mix from atop his Skull. Vial contents ooze combined unto near Masonic dead Corpse of the Mark.

"Alone."

The Mark stood alone. He was Doll combined of own vial contents. He was Corporate filth. He was near Masonic dead. Fuck him more.

"You'll Remember."

I still spoke through The Secret with lips to read. His eyes still spoke terror without lips through Doll Wax stream of vial content.

"We had a Deal."

Anna with Norma made to haul away No22. The Mark made to glance their direction. He made to scream. The Mark had seen his heart.

"But you have no Son."

I had Felt the Mark's torn heart to sustain amidst ripped bowls still churned on the floor. Fuck me. I had made a Hack look his heart still beat Bleeding amidst his own bowl mess on the floor.

"And I have the Kid."

William handed me the Doll of the Kid. The Mark futile spat pink foam from slit throat for scream over own mess near Masonic dead.

"Now."

William had made to shattered window North. He produced flare gun. He direct discharged flare for Chinatown. I direct spoke the Mark:

"You'll get what is yours."

The flare discharged of Chinese Character. It was the Character for Flame. I direct deposited the Doll of the Kid into the Mark.

North window further shattered of Flame. Dollmaker Flame Dolls of the Kid had returned from the Landlord's temporal hold. They were Interested. They wanted to relate. They looked for William as the Kid.

I stood from the Mark to option the Flame Dolls of The Secret.

I had settled the Kid's Doll in the Mark's abdominal vault for short term Borne Interest to relate upon their imminent return:

I further axis visioned for abdominal vault of the Mark. I even further furrow brow hummed from Skull for deposited Doll of the Kid. The Mark's gut glow illumined for Interest. The Kid's Doll struggled to relate.

Dollmaker Flame Dolls looked for the Mark's gut with Interest.

I Thought, Felt and Willed my Doll of the Kid within the Mark as Borne. It melt struggled its ferment Vial contents with illumine glow Volition. It struggled the Mark's gut for relation as Borne.

Dollmaker Flame Dolls looked their relation. They made for the Mark. Flames became Flesh. Flesh became Flames. The Mark burst Aflame.

I ceased hum from Skull. I backed off the Mark Aflame. I adjusted for normal vision. I watched the Mark burn for Masonic dead. Time becomes Space upon Death. The Mark and I would meet again in Hell.

The Mark collapsed for the floor. He was corpse Aflame and Masonic dead. I gripped Rosary Golgotha of left hand. I fore middle finger pointed of my right for the Mark Aflame Masonic dead on the floor.

I axis visioned entire floor mess of Aflame Masonic death. It center struggled Interest Borne. I furrowed brow to relate. I hummed Skull. I made with The Secret. Flame erupted the floor.

Flame blossomed from floor. Blossom erupted for ceiling. Flame blossom erupt condensed. There it loomed: My Flame Doll of the Kid. It loomed floor to ceiling appearing nothing like the Kid.

It appeared as Giant Luciferic Goat God Aflame. It's what for the Kid loomed my Thoughts. My Flame Doll of the Kid kneeled to await disestablishment. That's how to Master Wax Doll: In establishment.

Never establish a Wax Doll allowed of Return Blow upon disestablishment. Only establish a Wax Doll allowed of disestablishment Return to await upon disestablishment.

If you don't get what I say for how: Don't play around with Dolls.

I axis visioned intense about my Flame Doll of the Kid. I kissed Rosary Golgotha left. I fore middle finger signed Cross of right. I earnest hummed Skull. I whispered of The Secret:

"Igne Natura Renovatur Integra."

My Flame Doll of the Kid collapse disestablished. It Flame roar imploded for floor. It terminated torrent on Masonic death mess.

My Flame Doll of the Mark was resultant revealed. It appeared as Tiny Prey Mantis. It awaited disestablishment amidst mess of the Mark Masonic dead still Aflame. William approached. To mess with the Flames.

William smiled at my Flame Doll of the Mark. He looked amidst the Masonic dead mess still Aflame. He reached into his Purse. Pulled out the sweet stuff:

Jet Puff Marshmallows. Honey Graham Crackers. Hershey Chocolate Bar. William tossed them all atop my Flame Doll amidst the Mark Masonic dead still Aflame. He looked amidst the piled mess with disdain.

I axis visioned the mess. I hummed Skull for the melt toasty pile. I middle finger signed of the cross. Then whispered of The Secret:

"fuck off..." Toasty sweet piled mess Fuck melted to burst Aflame.

My Flame Doll of the Mark disestablished. It Puff imploded Honey toast Flame terminated Hershey upon floor. The Mark was dead and Fucked s'more.

"...Oh!"

The King had gotten it... William and I exited the observation lounge for the West foyer to join the others. As show Time was over. And it was Time for the final act of Judgment.

what

Kitty glided to a stop with a purr. We had arrived in the garage of Base. Kitty was happy. She had returned from the beauty salon but the day before. Kitty's repair was the Landlord's engagement present for Anna. And Kitty looked fantastic.

But Kitty was full. It was Time to unload.

I popped Kitty's trunk using the yellow release button in her glove box. Then opened her door. And made to get out of Kitty.

Shadow Chinese fast appeared from out of nowhere. Young Chinese emerged calm from the stairs above Base. They had made from the Mark's plaza crap complex on foot. And Anna drives like the bat out of Hell. Those Twin Chinese were indeed... Faster than Hell.

"...Oh!"

The Twin Chinese had removed the King from Kitty's trunk. The King was still conscious. I removed my Red Silk and stuffed it into his mouth to shut him the Fuck up of Red Silk. Twin Chinese hauled the King away for the top floor of Base.

Anna followed the Twins. She had lifted William's Doll Purse from Kitty. It was moist and phlegm like filled with the Mark's Fucked s'more remains. Henry and Anais pussyfoot purred their Mistress's ankles all the way up the stairs.

William and Norma removed the corpse of No22 from Kitty's trunk. They hauled it to a corner in the Garage where we kept a corpse vault. I lifted the corpse of No47 from Kitty and followed them into into the corpse vault of Base.

William and Norma placed No22 upon a slab between No11 and No38. I slabbed No47 to the other side of No38. William glanced to me from Norma's side.

"You two want for time alone." Stated question.

"See you for Judgment?" Questioned statement.

"For God Willing." You must get it by now.

William left us for alone in the corpse vault of Base. I looked to Norma. It was answer her questions time. I started it off direct:

"The woman you killed was No15."

It was a direct shock. Norma backed neck and spine away from me.

"No..." Norma's eyes scanned within her Skull. They scan stopped. Norma had seen Remembered Living Images of No15. "That was a man."

"She was Not."

Norma's jaw went slack. She looked me with scan eyes from beneath a lowered brow. I turned from her. And looked to the Four slabbed corpses. Then continued on indirect.

"Just a little more work up front." I Remembered Living Images of the Four. Prior all the work I had physically done to them. Norma stepped to behind my ear. She questioned me:

"No15?"

"Would thank you." I turned about to face Norma. "If she could."

I told of it succinct for Norma's lowered brow and scan look eyes.

It was The City Job. The Mayor had sought me through the Cardinal.

The Mayor's sister had Married well. Very well. She had produced four Daughters. Each year of passed four the Family had vanished. Mother Sister of the Mayor vanished first. Father second. Middle Sister Nieces of the Mayor third and fourth.

All had vanished sequenced yearly on Mother Sister of the Mayor's birthday. It was her vanish anniversary. Youngest Sister had just vanished. Only the eldest Sister Niece of the Mayor remained.

The Mayor was at her wit's end. She did Not know where else to turn. I asked Not money. Only future interfere Not despite any symptoms my actions belied.

Her Ace Detective had risked Badge on circumstantial motivated suspect Hopeful: Eldest Sister Niece of the Mayor who remained.

Standard Course of Justice would Not prosecute for circumstantial evidence. Notoriety motivated pity for poor suspect eldest Sister Niece of the Mayor who remained hopeful about seeing Family again.

Standard Course of Justice belied Habeas Corpus. Notoriety did as well. I did Not. Poor suspect eldest Sister remained hopeful. She did Not for long. I found Youngest Sister prior eldest killed her.

Youngest Sister was captive bound and starving to Death in forgot speakeasy cellar beneath Family Roaring Twenties Mansion. She was bound of Father underwear starving beneath a Mother similar bound.

She was six years old dying forgot amongst a rotted corpse Family.

Mother had been dead four years. Father three. Middle Sisters two and one. Eldest Sister had killed them all same bound of Father's underwear. She was one Sick Sister... I Judged her Taken for No15.

I would rather have Judged Sick Sister's Father Taken for No15.

The Cardinal assured me: He would personal assure Sick Sister's Father pay extra for Hell. I thought it assure metaphor. I know better now. The Cardinal further assured: He would make alright for Youngest Sister. He would see to her personal.

I know Not what the Cardinal did nor how. I know Youngest Sister is alright now. I know what I did to Sick Sister and how as No15 she had paid for Hell on Earth.

I also know I assure continued my deal with the Mayor each election by contribution through the Landlord's laundering.

"Taken for No15." Norma spoke me redirect.

"Yes.' I had digressed.

"How many?" She looked over the Four slabbed with her scan eyes.

"Middle high double digits." I went to stand by No47. "Come look."

Norma made for me to stand by No47. I made to undo No47.

"Do you recognize this man?" I undid No47's Masonic Frock Coat.

Norma looked at No47. She looked at the rest of the Four slabbed.

"Different sizes. Different shapes. They all look alike to me."

I undid No47's Crucifix Buckle, Cop Belt and Workingman's Pants.

"Look closer."

Norma looked closer. She looked closer still for No47 undone.

Then screamed for Hell.

Something always remains despite my work efforts. For No47 it was that Dumbfuck Tattoo of a Cartoon Cowboy astride his Donkey Penis.

I looked about Skull blown corpse of No47 while Norma continued screaming out Hell. I Remembered Living Images of the Norma Job.

Norma's Kid Brother had run with Big Heroine. The Habit came to run him Big Time. Norma made to save Kid Brother. She made like journalist for run Big Heroine down. She threatened Pusher Fuck.

Pusher Fuck ran Big Heroine for the City. Norma press threatened for expose. She would drop threat for Kid Brother denied a Habit. Pusher Fuck agreed for make a Deal. Norma had Fucked up Big Time.

Pusher Fuck made Norma hostage. He raped her before Kid Brother also made hostage. That was Pusher Fuck's Deal. Rape unto Death before killing Kid Brother. Norma made strong. She escaped. Kid Brother was made weak. Norma could Not make with him for escape.

Kid Brother remained Pusher Fuck's hush held hostage. Norma was near wit's end. But she had heard a Rumor. Nick Turner. The Man Who Was Not. Redeemer for Lost Souls. Mr. Big Time for Hell. Me.

Norma ran lead. She made Ace Detective. He called the Mayor. She sought the Cardinal. I did my Job. Pusher Fuck was Taken as No47. He paid for Hell on Earth. There I now stood with Norma Big Time.

"you..."

Norma had finished screaming to Hell. I looked to her eyes. They looked over corpse of No47. I knew that look over. To scream was Not enough. Norma was looking for more. She needed more for Hell.

"... You!"

Her eyes made rapid scan. They scan stopped. Norma had found what she was looking for. She rapid eye focused for Skull of No47. Her eyes rapid moved. I knew what that rapid eye move was for and how.

"You Fuck!"

It was for Pusher Fuck and Rape. It was for Kid Brother and Death. It was for Nick Turner and Obsess. It was for Living Nightmare of Hell on Earth. It was for Not. I produced some Knuckles for Norma.

"YOU DIRTY FUCK!"

Norma was what for Hell enraged. With fists shaking for how. I gave her Knuckles for what. I engaged them to her fist for how.

And told her: "Go ahead..."

Norma went ahead alright. She for Hell raged fist unto Skull of No47. While I looked to the ceiling. Norma raged ahead. Knuckle fisted Skull of No47 shook Blood. Norma needed a little privacy.

I adjusted eyes to x-ray vision. I looked for top floor of Base. I adjusted for Not. Smoke upon smoke obscured vision to top floor of Base. Black Magic Dragons to fabric of Base mocked for X-Ray Deny.

Smart Ass Dragons. But doing their Jobs. I would make to discover many improvements the Landlord had Chinese Black Magic made about Base over my years. It would take more than x-ray eyes for vision.

"Fuck!"

Norma had finished raging for Hell. I looked to her fist. Bloody Knuckles dropped for the floor. I knew that gesture. I bent down for Norma's Knuckles. As she stared for them. I caught her stare.

I questioned: "Better?"

"i am not..." Norma still shook from her rage fisted effort.

"Good." ... Knuckle fisted rage is Not enough.

I rose from the floor with Norma's Knuckles. I looked to the Bloody corpse of No47. Then produced a Switchblade for Norma.

I questioned further: "Forgive?"

"I am not." Norma was shocked numb from her Bloody effort.

"Good." ... Forgive? What for and how?

I snapped open Norma's Switchblade. I tore open No47's Tee Shirt. I used No47's torn Shirt to wipe Norma's Knuckles clean of Blood.

I final questioned Norma: "Forget?"

"I am Not." Norma shook off her shock.

"Good." ... Forget? Again... What for and how?

Norma stared at me with effort. I Spoke to her for The Effort.

"You have to Remember."

I removed the Red Silk, Rosary and Jet Fighter Shades from No47.

"To Put Back into the World."

I wrapped Knuckles, Switchblade, Rosary and Shades into Red Silk.

"Good Taken from the World."

I gifted over the Red Bundle of Nick Turner Props for Norma...

... And there you Fucking Have It.

for

Does Hamlet haunt You? Damned Dane. He kills Me. Hamlet's a Hack.

To be or not to be? That is Not a question!

What for to make of Love Stolen and how? That was the question!

Hamlet mistook what for. He made to tragic Love Stolen. He made for Hack Job the whole affair and how. Fuck you Hamlet. Fuck me.

Fuck us all. Lucifer and satan with their Human Pawn Legion for Hell on Earth. Wether Pawn Humans know or Not. They Fuck us all.

My Father told me prior Death. Later he showed me. He showed me post Death. He showed me what for and how from Land of the Dead.

The Dead can communicate what for Imagination. They can show how through Inspiration. They can be Intuition. Imagine what for the Dead is Worthy Inspiration. How the Dead Intuition. Imagine Love.

Love is what for the Dead Imagine and how they Inspire Intuition.

Do you Love? The Dead can Imagine you. Do you Love to Being your beloved lost for Land of the Dead? Your Dead can Inspire you. Do you Love Chaste and Devote? Your beloved Dead is Being Intuition.

Sound complicated?

Being with the Dead is complicated. It is Not a question wether to be with the Dead. They Imagine to Inspire and be our Intuition. To be with the Dead is complicated fact. It is Not a question.

But to question with the Dead is complicated peril. The Dead speak our question. We speak their answer. The Dead speak in complicated reverse. It is what for and how they question.

The Dead Imagine Soul to Inspire Web and Corpse Intuit. They speak our Thought to our Feeling for our Will. We Think we have Felt own Willing. We have Not. The Dead have spoken for us.

But the Dead have spoken to our answer. We Will we have Felt own Thoughts. We have Not. The Dead have Thought to Feeling our Will. Our answers speak for the Dead.

No wonder Hamlet made what for all backward and how. Fucking Hack.

What for Hell does this have to do with Lucifer and satan? How about their Human Pawn Legion for Hell on Earth? Exactly asked.

It is what for Fate Selfindulgent Humans afterlife serve Lucifer in Land of the Dead. It is how Lucifer acquires Pawn Legion. The Selfindulgent Dead serve Lucifer's Pawn Legion for Hell on Earth.

It is what for Fate Unscrupulous Humans afterlife serve satan from Land of the Dead. And how satan acquires Pawn Legion. Unscrupulous Dead serve satan's Pawn Legion for Hell on Earth. Welcome to Hell.

Hell is Selfindulgent Unscrupulous Human Fate. Humans Fate upon Earth for afterlife in Hell. Or they do Not. Humans are Free to Choose through Love. Lucifer and satan would Enslave all Humans through Love Stolen. They would Humans Choose for Hell on Earth.

Lucifer with his Human Pawn Legion of Selfindulgent Dead Imagine Ignorance to Inspire Acceptance and be our Intuition. They speak for our Selfindulgence. We answer for their Truth Unattained. We are Enslaved. Our Love is Stolen through Hindrance.

Satan with his Human Pawn Legion of Unscrupulous Dead Imagine Material to Inspire Domination be our Intuition and speak for Unscrupulousness. We answer their Denial of Spirit for Slaves. Love is Stolen through Sickness and Death.

Lucifer with satan. Pawn Legion for Hell on Earth. Fuck them all.

It is Hell enough Being Human. We are Hell enough Selfindulgent and Unscrupulous left alone on Earth. Lucifer with satan cannot leave Hell enough alone on Earth. They deploy Human Pawn Legion.

They Imagine Soul Ignorant Insentient Inert. Inspire Web Despair Loathing Anxiety. Intuition Corpse Darkness Death to Nothingness. Love is Hindered of Sickness to Death. Love is Stolen from Earth.

What for Hell and how? For Spark! And how Spark is Love on Earth.

Spark is what for Human Being and how Individuals Love on Earth. Love is what for The Christ came to Earth and how HE in Freedom incarnated Human Flesh. Freedom is what for The Christ Golgotha sacrificed and how HE gifted Humanity of God. Spark is what for gift of God and how Human Beings are Individuals of Freedom and Love on Earth. It is Human Individual gift of God Love on Earth.

Spark is what Lucifer with satan would steal for Hell. And how?

Lucifer with satan: Would rob us Ignorant of Spark. They would reduce us Material Not Individual. They would demand us Accept them as God. They would master us Dominated Slaves. They would Truth Deny. They would to Hate our Unattained Spirits for Hell.

Sound bad? It is Fucking bad! What for Hell! And how Fucking bad?

Lucifer with satan. Selfindulgence with Unscrupulousness. Hinderance with Sickness and Death. Ignorant as Material. Accepting of Domination. Truth Denial. Unattained Spirit.

That's how Fucking bad! Or Hell Not... You are Free to Choose.

Lucifer with satan would Steal Love of God. They would mock Golgotha Sacrifice of The Christ. They would Not The Christ. Lucifer and satan with Human Pawn Legion are all Antichrist.

What are you going to do about it? That is the question! What for to make of Love Stolen and how? You have Choice! You are what for Free to Choose! You are Free for how to Choose! You are God Loved!

Choose Love! Choose Not Antichrist! Choose The Christ! Choose!

Choose to Fight! To the Death! And Beyond! It is The Choice.

Honor God's Love. It is what for Choice and how to Honor God. Choose for Love of The Christ. Fight to the Death and Beyond.

Be a Human. Honor God. Follow The Christ. Fuck Lucifer and satan.

What for and how? The Christ with Mich-a-el. Human Redeem Legion. For Heaven on Earth. That is what for Fight and how to Honor God.

Human Beings due Fate on Earth for afterlife in Heaven. The Chaste are Indulged. The Devoted have Scruples. It is what for Fate those Chaste and Devoted serve The Christ afterlife in Heaven. It is how The Christ does gather Human Redeem Legion. Welcome to our Battle.

For Heaven on Earth. For Earth as it is in Heaven. The Christ is Lord. Mich-a-el is General. Chaste Devote Dead are Redeem Legion.

The Christ with Mich-a-el and Human Redeem Legion Imagine to Inspire and be Spark Intuition. They Imagine what for Love's Inspiration. How to Love as Intuition. It is what for Heaven.

They Imagine Thinking to Inspire Feeling and Intuit Soul Willing. Imagine Faith to Inspire Love and Intuit Web Hope. Imagine Light to Inspire Life and Intuit Corpse Being. How for Heaven on Earth.

They speak for Indulge Devotion. We answer their Chaste Scruples. Love is Redeemed. We are Free despite Hinderance and Sickness or Death. Love is what for Freedom. How one Redeems Heaven on Earth.

It is Hell Being Human on Earth. Hinderance with Sickness and Death. Those Antichrist make Earth for Hell. Human Beings are beloved of God. Free to Choose Antichrist. Free to Choose Not.

The Christ with Mich-a-el and Redeem Legions are what for Freedom and how to Choose Love on Earth. Love is what for Freedom and how to Choose Not Antichrist on Earth. It is what for The Christ does lead and how Love is Freedom Not Antichrist on Earth. It's enough.

Or it is Not. If you still question. If you must question. What for to make of Love Stolen? How on Earth? And you Not blame God.

I understand. Love Selfindulgent Stolen through Hinderance. Love Unscrupulous Stolen through Sickness unto Death. Freedom through Love is Not Enough. Especially if through your own Selfindulgent Unscrupulous Antichrist Choices Love was Stolen. I do understand.

You have Not Choice. You must Put Back into the World Good Taken from the World. That is what for to make of Love Stolen. And how to Fight. It's what for Honor God. How to Fight for Heaven Earth.

Or Not. If you still what for question tragic. And how to be or not to be question. What for to make of poor me? How about poor Me? And You Blame God!

Then make for tragic like Hamlet. And kill yourself. Fucking Hack!

and how

"Hack?" Norma was looking over her gifted Red Bundle.

"Hamlet..." I must have been muttering.

"Hamlet." Norma was wondering about her gift of Nick Turner Props.

"He's a Hack." I looked about the corpse vault of Base for a mop. I spotted a mop in the corner. I made for the spotted mop corner.

"Hack." She looked at the four corner knot I had tied on her gift.

"A Hack." I undid the long handle from the mop and made for Norma.

"a tragic fool..." Norma made to give me back the Red Bundle.

"You are Not tragic." I took the Bundle. I tied the four corner knot to the long handle of the mop. I gave the long handled Red Bundle back to Norma. She looked from it to my eyes. And choked:

"i'm a..."

I shut Norma's mouth of my hand. I put the long handle over her shoulder. The Red Bundle hung her back. I made for behind Norma.

"You are Not a fool." I held Norma's Skull from behind. I tilted her face to the ceiling and tilted my face up to ceiling as well.

"what now?" Norma tried to face me. I kept her faced for ceiling.

"Look." I slightly furrowed my brow and activated The Secret.

The Dragons got the hell out of our way. As Norma and I looked through the ceiling to the top floor of Base. The Cardinal was there with all assembled to observe the final act of Judgement.

All of those involved... They awaited me on the top floor of Base.

The Landlord with his Wife and the Twin Chinese stood the Compass Rose of the room. The Bruce with his Wife sat upon my sofa inside North of the Landlord. The Bruce's Wife had become more conscious since I had departed Base to commence Judgement. And seemed to...

... She was attempting to smile.

William sat on the West arm of the sofa. Anna sat on the East arm. Henry and Anais purred at Anna's ankles. They stared anticipation at the center of the room. The King was trussed to a chair inside West of Young Chinese with his mouth still stuffed. And he had...

Got it alright... He was Not attempting to laugh. Across from him sat the Mark's burnt s'more remains inside East of Shadow Chinese.

The Guru lied inside South of the Landlord's Wife. He was bound to a bed with crazy man canvas straps. Nikki's fried corpse was there beside him. They were Fate Cuffed together once again. Fuck him...

The Guru was scared shitless. His bowl dirt soiled the mattress.

The Kid lied dead center of room on surgical life support. He had become less Alive since I had departed Base... He was transparent. The Kid had transmuted to crystal since I had brought him to Base.

The Kid's Corpse had indeed transmuted. The Kid himself was Not crystal clear. Clots of sludge slid opalescent Flesh. Nerve and Blood about Organs and Bone were otherwise visible. It was eery.

The Cardinal stood beside the Kid in the center of the room. He caught my eye from the top floor of Base. And gestured East and West with his eyes and head. Two shabby chairs sat outside East and West of the Twin Chinese.

The Cardinal had told me what the chairs were for and how they were to be used. I still could Not fathom it. We would have to burn the chairs post Judgement. The Cardinal was going to show those involved... What for one Judges of The Secret... And how.

"How?" Norma had seen with me of The Secret: Thought my Felt Will.

So I told her: "Close your eyes."

Norma deserved to see more. I was still behind her. I still held her face for above. I dug my left thumb deep beneath base of her Skull. I dug my right index into her Third Eye. I gripped middle right finger outside her left eye. Right thumb outside eye right.

It's the grip for Clairvoyant Initiation. Do Not try this at home.

I made with the grip. I hummed Skull. I more activated The Secret.

"OUCH!" Norma reflex scrunched eyes for my grip. First Time hurts.

Norma's vision Skull imploded. Sunburst rounded yellow. Then cool pearl black. Squiggled light bolts crackled her vision peripheral.

I made tighter with the grip. Norma winced. I hummed Skull ready.

Norma's Skull crackled vision. Fuchsia bolted ozone blue. Then squiggled yellow. Crackled for center pearl black. Black pearl rounded calm. Sunburst yellow resplendence emerged from behind.

I relaxed with the grip. Norma gaped awe. I hummed Skull more.

Black pearl became Pupil. Sunburst yellow eclipse became Iris.

Norma was ready... I steadfast activated The Secret.

Black Pupil deepened grave. Sunburst Iris resplendent waxed. Pearl bored tunnel breached unto Time. Yellow tore eclipse across fabric of Space. Norma gasped wonder. I steadfast hummed with The Secret.

Tunnel of Time breached eclipse across Space. Light of Space eclipsed breach unto Time. End of tunnel dilated wide. There revealed was top floor of Base. Tunnel of Time became breach eclipsed Space. Norma and I vision breached tunnel unto Time.

Time eclipsed Space. We tunnel breached vision. Time had become Space. There we stood. Visions upon top floor of Base visioning Time upon top floor of Base. Unto Time become Space unto Future.

Norma and I had become Time. Visioned through Space unto a Future.

Future was what for Space. How Time would become unto Norma and I.

Norma and I watched ourselves enter top floor of Base from below. The Cardinal gestured us seated. Norma sat between the Bruce and William and I between the Bruce's Wife and Anna. I usually stand for Judgment. I usually Judge what for. And how... Not this Time.

The Cardinal stood for Judgment. He stood what for Judge. And how.

The Cardinal spoke acknowledgment for all upon top floor of Base. He included Norma and I seated on the sofa. Then acknowledged us silently. From where we his observed Judgment... Outside of Time.

The Cardinal made for what. There was nothing to observe from any distance. Nothing to film or record from outside the top floor of Base. But there was much to observe from outside of Time. All was revealed: As personal experience for all on the top floor of Base.

That was how the Cardinal made it: Panorama for all to experience.

He showed what for the Bruce left wee green Island. And how the Bruce and his Wife fled for the City. What for the Bruce's Wife 'special' Whored. How the Bruce got to work Muscle for the Guru.

He revealed what for the Guru slept with the Bruce's Wife behind back of her Husband. And how the Guru shot but Cannot Swim Sperm. It explained what for the Guru slipped the Bruce's Wife morphine. How she bought his explanation of their 'special' son as Destiny.

He exposed what for the Guru coma induced the Bruce's Wife post childbirth. And how the Guru knew the Bruce would never abandon Onyx without his Wife's Corpse. It was what for extent the Guru would Enslave labor. How the Bruce and Wife were of Love Stolen.

It explained what for the Kid was inclined unto morphine. And how the Kid had stumbled upon The Secret. Which was what for the Guru Enslaved the Kid. How all were now assembled for Judgment. It was what for the Guru Selfindulgent Guilty. How Unscrupulously Liable.

The Cardinal was not what for satisfied of evidence. Nor how. He what for indicated the King and the Mark. How they were involved.

He revealed what for The Secret was coveted. And how the Guru had covet pimped the Kid to the King's Selfindulgent nature. What for The Secret was profitable. How the Guru had profit pimped the Kid for the Mark's Unscrupulousness. But I had just Judged both Johns.

That's right... I had what for Judged the King. And the Mark. How of ironic Conscience. Fucked s'more. What for both Johns. And how.

The Cardinal was still not what for satisfied of evidence. So he gestured to outside East and West of the Twin Chinese... For how.

The Landlord Chinese Black Magic obscured windows to top floor of Base from outside observation... The Cardinal snapped open his 22 Karat Rose Gold Omega pocket watch. The Twin Chinese donned Magic Armor. They had what for produced Black Magic Armor. And how fast.

Twin Chinese fast planted six foot high by five wide Black Magic Shields unto floor between themselves and the shabby chairs. The Cardinal was going to what for make about shabby chairs. And how.

He axis visioned his Gold Omega for what. He Concentrated for how.

Top floor of Base entire hummed Space as Time. Light emerged the Cardinal's Omega. It lemnicate ribbon encircled outside East and West of shabby chairs. It was circled light of Infinity centered upon the Cardinal's Rose Gold Omega. And there sat those Fuckers.

It was not just Panorama. They were there. They could have been filmed from outside had Not the Landlord obscured windows. Twin Chinese stood Shields. And Spoke Black Magic Protection Prayers.

The Cardinal compelled them. What for testify. Give evidence how.

Lucifer sat shabby chair outside East of Young Chinese Shield. He was pleased to appear. Vain Prick. He what for testified the King Selfindulgent shadow casting Hinderance. He gave evidence how the Guru was true servant for Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained.

Satan sat shabby chair outside West of Shadow Chinese Shield. It was Not pleased to be seen. Arrogant Fuck. It what for testified the Mark Unscrupulous shadow casting Sickness and Death. It gave evidence the Guru served Material Domination in Denial of Spirit.

It was what for awe and how legend Spoke of it prior accomplished.

Rudolph Steiner had accomplished it prior working sculpture of The Christ second coming Etheric. As from Web of Earth. As Phantom for Redemption. Dr. Steiner what for compelled Lucifer then satan. And how they sat as compelled models. As Steiner had compelled them to sit for Art. Rudolph Steiner would Not say So... But I... I Shall

Fuck them!

Dr. Steiner's work still adorns in second Goetheaneum. Look it up.

But I digress. The Guru was what for Fucked. How Judged for Taken.

Norma and I watched as William and I arose from the sofa. William pulled out the Guru's Doll. And gave me the Doll. I made over the Guru with the Doll. Melted it about his Skull. Spoke the Judgment.

Told the Guru: He would what for Live. And how Alone. But with Us.

"Enough!" Norma wrenched her Skull Free from my Clairvoyant grip.

I looked for ceiling as tunnel closed and Space again became Time. There I was... What for hauling the Guru down to the second floor surgical room. There he went. And I how worked him Taken: As No74.

A voice spoke: "It is not enough." ... I knew that voice.

Norma spun around to face the Cardinal. He and I were facing the tunnel. It was closing for Time. Norma averted her face from the Cardinal. She sank to her knees. The long handled Red Bundle was still over her back. The Cardinal reached for Norma on the floor.

And hauled Norma off her knees to stand with a single arm.

"Behold." The Cardinal had Spoken without lips. As echo from all Space. He what for gestured his arm. We were suddenly atop Vista of Destiny. And how we witnessed Panorama of Future Human Strife.

We witnessed what for Humanity Individuated. And how Individuals Chose for Humanity. What for Humans Chose Antichrist. Or for The Christ. How such Human Choices divided Humanity unto bad or Good.

It was what for Future. How Humanity divided unto bad versus Good.

We witnessed Humanity Battle. Humans bad versus Good Humans. The Battle was what for tremendous length. And how unto end of Earth. Earth what for ended. How of natural cause. Not Human. Just done.

Earth just what for expired unto Cosmos. And how with entire Solar System. Until it was what for Resolved. As how it was then Reborn.

Earth what for eventual reemerged entire new Planet. And how with entire new Solar System. But previous Battle had not been in vain.

Entire new Planet had entire new Hierarchy amidst entire new Solar System. Previous Good Humans were what for new Angels. And how new emerge Humanity were Guided. Previous bad Humans were what for new Demons. How a new emerge Humanity were to be lead unto Temptation.

Fucking Demons. Previous bad Humans not Evolved. Fucking a future Humanity. It is Right to Evolve. Wrong to Not. Believe me: I know.

Future Demons are Fucked. They will be what for Wrong Place. They will be Slaves. And how in Wrong Time. Believe me: They will know.

Blessed Angels. Previous Good Humans Evolved. Guardian Angels for future Humanity. They will be what for Love. And how unto Freedom. They will be what for Right Place. How to Right Time. And know It:

That they are Angels. That they what for Serve The Christ. How as HIS Angels of Freedom and Love. That they are what for The Secret. That they wield It in Service for The Christ. How they shall Know.

That's what for the Cardinal and I work each Job...

... And that's how we work to Serve The Christ.

"No More!" Norma dropped her long handled Red Bundle to the floor.

"Alright." The Cardinal let Norma drop to join her Red Bundle.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Norma never wrote shit about my Job. She knew nobody would ever believe It. I'm certain you do Not believe. Like I Fucking care.

Judgment proceeded just as Norma and I had observed. The Guru was Judged Taken. I worked his Corpse into No74. The Cardinal Blessed our debt paid Dead... Then it was Time to return to the Monastery.

William readied Blessed corpses of No11, No22, No38 and No47 for transport. Then escorted them with newly Taken Corpse of No74 on the long trip to the Monastery. It took a month for the Cardinal and I to arrange for disbursement of Job Fees. It was Worthwhile.

The Cardinal personal readied near dead translucent Corpse of the Kid for transport. He personal escorted it with the Bruce and his Wife to the Monastery. I paid a succinct respect for the Landlord and his Wife. Shadow and Young Chinese pledged to watch over Base.

I wondered what for. And how long it would be prior I returned to Base... Anna and I made for about a new way back to the Monastery.

We started by heading South. Anna and I spent a week with Barry and his Wife. Good food. Lots of singing and dancing. Barry got himself Ordained. And Married Anna and I. In a private ceremony.

I was not bullshitting. Barry did too write Your the First, My Last, My Everything for Anna and I. He sang it for our wedding.

Anna and I honeymooned in London and Paris then Madrid. Finally arriving at the Monastery one month post our departing the City.

Anna was worried at first about belonging to a Monastery. But we are Not a typical Monastery. Yes... We are a 'special' Monastery.

What the hell would you call the opposite of a Temple Whorehouse? Where the particulars stay the same but Spark is Not Prostituted?

You would call it the Monastery of my people...

My people are what for all together. That's how all do belong at the Monastery. It's Not about what you were for. But how you are Not anymore. What you do stand for now? And how do you Fight now?

That's what my people stand for: A Future Good Humanity. And how the Monastery Chooses to Fight. What Anna and I could finally be together for. As how we had always belonged... It was about Time.

The Bruce and his Family could also be together. As how they had belonged. It was what for the Cardinal personal passed much Time with the Bruce and his Wife. And how William and I glass encased transmuted Corpse of the Kid dead center in our Monastery Temple.

The Certain Chapel had arrived dismantled with contents from its eleven centuries outside Kiev. We reassembled it annexed to East wing for our Temple. It what for Hell on Earth held a secret all its own. How that secret needs protecting... For Heaven on Earth.

But what for Hell on Earth is my Job. And how for Heaven on Earth.

Imagine what for Images Living Remembered Webbed the Guru. How I backed him off the Life Dust. Awoke his Conscience. What for his Thinking, Feeling and Willing Soul Inspired. How I hauled him to the assembled Certain Chapel annexed to East Wing for our Temple.

It was what for we Chose to bring our Brother into the Light. How we Chose to inaugurate our annex Chapel. What for I took bandages off from about the Guru's Skull. And how the Guru did react. When he faced himself as Nick Turner. In the mirror I held to his face.

The Guru Intuited unto Life, Light and Being depth of his Corpse. What for he had been Judged Taken. How I had surgical worked him into No74 Nick Turner. It was what for all Brothers lowered cowl hoods. How Nick Turners all faced the Guru from about the Chapel.

The Guru bray howled his Fate. Like a Donkey free falling into a bottomless ravine. As Felmont slobbered away on the Chapel floor. Felmont had been No73 Nick Turner. The Guru was No74... Fuck him.

He was brought into the Light. It was what for Redeem Web. And how through Deeds. What for Redeem Soul. How through Disciplines. What for Redeem Corpse. And how through Sacrifice. Man what for Fucked.

And how Fucked unto Spark. It was what for Task of Redemption. How until he Put Back into the World Good Taken from It. As until what for Done his Life would End. And how until then he was No74 Fucked Nick Turner. What for Sacrifice. How Fucked unto Spark... And Not.

Such was the Onyx Spark Job. I had saved the Kid. I had acquired the Secret. I had Judged the King and the Mark. I had Married my True Love. But it was the Guru... Who had need of the Redemption:

What for who he was... And how for his Spark.

He needed to understand what for Spark. And how he owed God. He had to become Nick Turner. Fucked unto Spark. As man he was Not.

As I am Nick Turner. And I am Not. But... You must get it by now.

Think. And Feel... But Will about it for God's sake!

You must say what for. Just do Not say why. Why Not? Did you Not get It? What for and how. When combined. Is Not a fool statement.

So...

... I am Nick Turner. And I am Not. But that's how I know who is.

Afterward

... Well, dear reader, you're still with me... Did you get it?

Or did you find it too hard and skip to this Afterward in hope of an easy explanation? I must say, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But there is a reason Nick almost exclusively lists thinking, feeling and willing in exactly that order. For truly, that is their order.

You must truly Think before you can truly Feel and only then may you truly get to the what for and how of Will. It is exactly the same with Faith, Love and Hope. So, if you skipped ahead to this Afterward in hope of an easy explanation, you have made a common blunder...

It's exactly like trying to cross a bridge by taking the last step onto the other side without having taken the first step nor any of the other steps necessary to cross the span of the bridge... Which is a common, let's say a misadventure, in any spiritual adventure.

But that's exactly what for and how Nick wrote The Onyx Spark Job.

You must truly think about it before you can truly feel it and only then do you truly stand a chance of getting what you have willed for. Just as you must have faith in Nick before you can love how he wrote and hope to share in his spiritual adventure.

So you must get off your intellectual ass and get back to it...

... Or Not.

But if you're still with me. And you did get it. Then I must ask:

Are you alright?

That's the thing about some books, especially works of spiritual adventure. They come to you when you are not even thinking about it. But feeling compelled, you are willing to read. And read you do, despite the difficulties, until your imagination is inspired.

Then suddenly you get an intuition. You have seen the Light. The story is about your Life. You are Being that spiritual adventure.

And of course, dear reader, I heard you when you asked: "Is that transcriber guy alright?" I must tell you, obviously... I am Not.

After all that transcribing and this writing, I do Not Think, Feel nor Will as I used to. My Faith, Love and Hope are Not in the same things. My Imagination has been Inspired. I have seen the Light of my Life as a Human Being. Intuitively, I am Not that man I used to be...

So if you did get it. And you are Not alright as I am Not. Then it is time to take my leave of you... As I am your transcriber. And I am Not. But that's how, if ever we meet, I shall know who you are.

Chapter Notes

Preface

Screenplay: Phil & I managed to hammer a screenplay out of Nick's narrative. Yet to be picked up or optioned. Buy it today and Save!

Composition Book: Of the type usually manufactured by the Mead Corporation. I don't know what the design is flecked for nor how it came to be that way, but they are obsequiously available in most local Drug stores.

Thick Black Ballpoint Ink: As far as I can tell, the ink Nick used comes from a Skilcraft U.S. Government Ballpoint, which could indicate that Nick appropriated his pen from a U.S. Post Office.

12 Point Courier: The Font you're reading now.

Fixed Width Font: As opposed to a Non Fixed Width Font where any ten characters do not add up to a uniform out lay of length across the page. For example, let me reproduce the Preface paragraph I am referring to in order to illustrate the point.

As Nick would write it...

12 Point Courier is a fixed width font, meaning, for every ten points of character, including spaces, one inch of text is out laid across the page. When transcribing as I did on a computer, any word exceeding the right margin automatically drops to the next line.

Non Fixed Width Font (12 Point Geneva)...

12 Point Courier is a fixed width font, meaning, for every ten points of character, including spaces, one inch of text is out laid across the page. When transcribing as I did on a computer, any word exceeding the right margin automatically drops to the next line.

So... The what for of 12 Point Courier and how it came to be the standard font of screenplays...

... Back in the day, when the typewriter was the advanced tool of writing, most typewriters were standardly equipped with 12 Point Courier. Few writers put fixed width 12 Point Courier to harder work than journalists. And 12 Point Courier served them well.

Just think about journalistic style. Short, direct and to the point with no big words. Journalists, especially in the early 20th century, knew they were writing for thin columns of short length.

The more precisely they could write to fit those fixed width columns, the more of their writing would make it to press. If you think this is reading too much into the pressures and abilities of journalistic writers, then you have not thought it through.

Having emulated Nick's style, I can tell you that after a while of writing in this way, a writer becomes aware of exactly how many characters, including blank spaces, he is writing across a line to get his point across. And after that, he becomes aware of how that demand determines the style of what he is trying to get across.

And if you still think this is reading too much into the nature of fixed width writing, then look at the work of 20th century authors who got their start in writing journalism or related types of reporting. Hemingway is actually as far as you would have to look.

But fewer journalists went on to become published authors as went on to become working screenwriters in Hollywood. Their typewriters went with them and fixed width writing was put to full use as they struggled to cram as much writing as they could into the limited amount of pages they were allowed to submit.

Having hammered out a screenplay from Nick's narrative, I can tell you about that too. Especially since I emulated Nick's justified to the point style without the aid of computer justification.

Computer justification is considered hack work by professional screenplay readers. I assumed Nick would somehow get a hold of the screenplay and I did not want to piss him off with anything that could be considered a hack job...

... Would you?

Introduction

Dashiell Hammett: (1894–1961) U.S. novelist. Developed hardboiled detective fiction during the 1920s in short stories and later novels such as Red Harvest (1929), featuring his iconic hardboiled character: The Continental Op. Later works included The Maltese Falcon (1930) and The Thin Man (1932), both of which were made into successful movies. He lived for many years with Lillian Hellman. Both were persecuted for their Leftist views during the McCarthy era, despite Hammett's exemplary service during both World Wars. Though Hammett eventually won his battle against alcoholism, he later succumbed to tuberculosis, a disease he had acquired during WWI and under which he had periodically suffered for the majority of his years.

Soren Kierkegaard: (1813–55) Danish philosopher. Argued against the materialistic Bourgeois complacency of his time. He stressed the importance of the Individual Spirit as defining of what Human existence was for. And how through experience and choice one could know God through faith alone... Not through dogma. But thereby exist sinless, transparently grounded as a Human existing in God. Kierkegaard eventually died of exhaustion, penniless reviled and alone, true to his faith unto the end.

Rudolph Steiner: (1861–1925) Austrian philosopher. Founder of Anthroposophy. Steiner established an international reputation as the editor of Goethe's scientific writings. He later founded the Anthroposophical Society in 1912, establishing his own experienced epistemological principles into a methodical, though clairvoyantly based, basis of research delving into psychological and spiritual phenomena that has lead to radical, though always surprisingly humane innovations in science, religion, the arts... In short, all cultural endeavors involving the three fold application of Human Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

Like Kierkegaard, Steiner stressed the importance of experiencing and choosing the Individual Spirit. However, Steiner's efforts and world view went far beyond Kierkegaard's. Through dozens of books, four plays, thousands of lectures across the Europe of his time, buildings of amazing architecture (which themselves resemble those Tolkien described as existing in Middle Earth), the establishment of schools and many other accomplishments too numerous to name here, Steiner left an impact on the culture of his time that still echoes into ours. Yet... Pivotal to Steiner's world view...

... Stands the importance of the Mystery of Golgotha:

Jesus on the Cross. The Christ incarnating in Human Flesh. Steiner posits Golgotha as the Turning Point in Time when God sent The Christ to initiate the beginning of our Humanity: As Individual Spirits of Human Being.

Steiner culminated his herculean efforts by reestablishing his Anthroposophical Society as the General Anthroposophical Society in 1924. Steiner's General Anthroposophical Society still exists. Based in the Goetheaneum in Dornach, Switzerland. Its branches spread throughout the entire world.

Oxford Inklings: (Early 1930s to Late 1940s) An informal yet quite influential literary group meeting weekly in various pubs about the Oxford University campus for the purpose of reading out loud and discussing works in progress. The Inklings stressed the importance of narrative in support of fantastic themes. Amongst its membership are counted some of the most important English writers of the latter half of the 20th century.

Owen Barfield: (1898-1997) British philosopher, poet, critic and Anthroposophist. He focused on the evolution of consciousness, a theme found throughout his writings. Barfield is known as the first and last Inkling, as a founding member of the Oxford based Group through which he had a strong influence on C.S. Lewis and an appreciable effect through his book: Poetic Diction, on J.R.R. Tolkien. Barfield was a long devoted Anthroposophist, beginning a lifelong study of the work and thought of Rudolph Steiner in the 1920s. Many of his early essays first appeared in Anthroposophical publications.

Clive Staples Lewis: (1898-1963) Commonly known as C.S. Lewis. Irish novelist, academic, medievalist, critic and lay theologian. He is also known for his fiction, especially: The Chronicles of Narnia. Lewis and his close friend, J.R.R. Tolkien, were leading figures in the English faculty at Oxford University and with Owen Barfield formed the core of the Oxford Inklings.

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien: CBE (1892-1973) Commonly known as J.R.R. Tolkien. English writer, poet, philologist and university professor. He is best known as the author of his classic works of Middle Earth: The Hobbit, and: The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II in March of 1972.

A

Alphabet: Having spent much time with Nick's narrative, I could not help but notice that the alphabetical chapter titles seemed to reference the theme of each chapter. In the case of chapter A, it seems not only indicative of Nick's alphabetical referencing but also that this is...

A for Alpha: Wherein Nick begins his Alpha narrative.

And Nick indeed begins his narrative in true Alpha male style...

From the opening paradoxical line, to the next paragraph attacking the nature of query, to an exhortation for you to exert yourself then to a promise of an explanation that starts the narrative by reverting back to the opening paradox while growing irritated at a next question that you have not even had time to consider as he goes on to offend you even more by charging into his story, while further assaulting you with his sudden introduction of characters, random Capitalization, rapid progression of locations and last but not least... His hardboiled syntax.

Syntax: The arrangement of words and phrases to create well formed sentences in a language.

But are Nick's sentences well formed?

Well, they sure are... For his hardboiled purpose.

Hardboiled: Until white and yolk are solid... Tough and cynical.

Nick hurls the gauntlet in your face from the very beginning of his narrative. He's going to boil your lily white soul until your yolk is solid. He's going to toughen your yellow chicken self to the cynicism of the world. Or, as Nick would say: Fuck you.

And you're bound to be fucked if you pick up Nick's gauntlet.

For a yolk is also what a beast of burden shoulders in harness to its task... (Yoga being the Sanskrit word for yolk in this manner...) But that's how Nick would have you harnessed: To his task. And if you harness yourself to Nick's hardboiled narrative, your see-through gooey soul will be hardened unto a pure resilient white... Any chance of your remaining a chicken will be done for.

You will be hardboiled, fucked... And bound to Nick's task.

People react in one of two way upon reading Chapter A: Either they think it's one of the coolest things they had ever read. Or they find it the most insufferable crap they had ever encountered. Over time it has become clear to me that those who are attracted to it have adventurous souls. While those who are repulsed by it were...

Downright intimidated. Hell, even frightened. Yes, total chickens.

So... Chapter A is not just Nick's set up for his Alpha narrative. It is also Nick's attempt to separate the adventurous from the prosaic, the brave from the cowardly, the strong from the weak. In short... Those who are worthy of being bound to Nick's task.

All that said, just a couple of more points before we move on.

Capitalize: Take a chance for advantage. Reckon value by setting future benefit against a cost of maintenance. Begin a word with a capital letter.

Nick does all the above with his use of capitalization. I'm sure it's part of the chance he took to weed out the worthy from the unworthy. Though in some cases obviously personal, Nick's use of capitals is mostly deliberate and absolutely necessary to the nature, purpose and end goal of his narrative. In the early stages of the story, Nick's capitalization is fairly slight, like a kind of pugilist warm up. But later, for the main event, it becomes absolutely necessary... If one is to keep up with the mind blowing secrets of life and the universe that Nick so rapidly and concisely hammers away with in the process of hardboiling your soul to his task.

Nick himself comments on the subject later in Chapter G.

Fatima: The Miracle of, (1917), when the Virgin Mary appeared in a series of visions to three children outside of a small village in western central Portugal. This vision of Mary came to be known as the Lady of Fatima, even though She had announced Herself to the children as the Lady of the Rosary.

It is interesting to note that devotion to the Rosary is generally attributed to visions of the Virgin Mary. She often emphasizes the importance of praying the Rosary to influence the course of world peace when She appears in visions to those who are innocent and pure of spirit. This connection probably has much to do with what Nick describes as the lessening of negative attention regarding his people. One can only speculate how this is connected to the uniquely austere manner in which Nick's people pray their Rosary.

Nick's mentioning of Fatima is also the only milestone by which he dates the events of The Onyx Spark Job. Reckoning from Fatima, The Onyx Spark Job took place in November of 1987, with the burning of the Monastery Temple taking place in 1964. If Nick was of age to remember seeing his parents perish in the flames, that would probably place his age somewhere in his forties at the time of The Onyx Spark Job.

Though Miracles were reported to have occurred during the events that surrounded the visions at Fatima, few caused such controversy as what came to be known as the Three Secrets of Fatima. It was in regard to these three revelations given by Mary to those three children that the three children were so questioned by the Church.

But that was the least of the children's problems concerning the events of Fatima. The freemason-run government of Portugal at that time opposed any Church related publicity that could compromise the secular running of their government. They pursued the children with an policy of intimidation. They even went so far as to detain them in Jail to keep them from their appointed rendezvouses with the Virgin Mary... What a truly stupid thing to do for a Catholic Body Politic!

... And it's no big leap of speculation to suggest that this might somehow be connected to Nick's rather hostile attitude towards the masonic brotherhood.

B

B for Base: Wherein we're introduced to Nick's base of operations.

The City: A city where the majority of The Onyx Spark Job occurs.

So... Where the hell is Nick's City? Certainly, in the majority of hardboiled tales, the protagonist usually refers to his city of residence as "The City." He usually refers to it by its official name as well. But Nick is never respectful of what is official. He does, however, have respect for the workingman. And of all cities, only one is universally referred to as "The City" by all who work and live within its confines...

San Francisco: City and seaport in western California, situated on a peninsula, between the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. To refer to the city of San Francisco as anything other than "The City" is a sure sign that you do not belong to its thriving culture. Pivotal to its thriving culture is its Chinatown, perhaps the most famous and infamous Chinatown in the United States. Other references by Nick in Chapter C support the hypothesis that San Francisco is Nick's City.

The Shadow Laugh: A particular laugh announcing the presence of The Shadow. Dark and menacing, it seems to come from nowhere but it is everywhere. It does not matter wether you are hidden alone inside a closet or exposed amongst others on a crowded street. The mocking laugh of The Shadow will shatter your soul, obviate your shame and let you know... You've been exposed, as the worthless piece of crap you always feared you were. And that The Shadow knows...

The Shadow: Popular pulp fiction character created and principally authored by Walter B. Gibson in some 200 plus novels between the 1930s and 1950s. Dark and menacing himself, The Shadow would save and salvage your wasted life, then claim it as his own. Bound to him by this mysterious tie, you would forever be The Shadow's agent and ally in his never ending battle against evil. Possessing superhuman strength and mind blowing powers of concentration, The Shadow would weed out the evil plots of those who thought themselves unstoppable and deal them the cruel, merciless justice they deserved. And The Shadow would make them pay, bitterly, so bitterly that you the reader just knew... That they would never forget their treatment at the hands of the Shadow even after their well deserved death... My kind of guy, that Shadow.

Life Dust: Nick comments upon what Life Dust is for and how it works in Chapter I. Suffice it to say here, that I wish I had some.

C

C for Certainty: Wherein Nick himself struggles for certainty.

Certainty: Firm conviction that something is the case. The quality of being reliably true. A fact that is true or an event that is definitely going to take place. A person that may be relied on.

So... Nick certainly struggles within himself for all these things on his way to the job site.

The Job Site: Nick's brief description of the job site seems to confirm that San Francisco is Nick's City. What Nick describes as Onyx Whorehouse, Onyx Restaurant, The Grill and the Mark's ugly crap plaza complex, clearly indicates how the job site could be located on the corner of Pine Street and Belden Place in San Francisco.

Onyx Whorehouse: Could be what had once been the Temple Hotel, a five story structure opened in 1912 that once had a birdcage elevator. It is now a bland collection of dental offices after having undergone an inexplicable remodel.

Onyx Restaurant: Abutting the former Temple Hotel on the corner of Belden and Pine, Belden really being but an alley. It now houses a succession of characterless coffee house-delicatessens.

The Grill: Could be what was once The Occidental Grill. It abuts the other side of the former Temple Hotel. It had been a cool 1930's bar and grill that was mostly bar with a revolving brass door but is now some insipidly trendy cigar bar and the revolving brass door is inexplicably gone.

Ugly Crap Plaza Complex: Could easily be what is known as 555 California Street, California being the next block running parallel to Pine thus the ugly crap complex would have its Ass facing Onyx. The whole complex is veneered with a dirty red brown granite including its ugly rude tower that does indeed resemble a feces stained phallus. It is still there, as a center of finance with rolling metal doors on it basement garages...

... Further, Belden and Pine is close enough to San Francisco's Chinatown for Nick to reach either destination rapidly on foot.

D

D for Destiny: Wherein Nick, ignorantly, embarks upon his destiny.

shortboy45: If 1987 is indeed the time of The Onyx Spark Job, then shortboy45 was a piece of custom gunsmith work. The Colt Automatic 45 Caliber Pistol, known as the 1911 model, was made in a variety of barrel lengths with six round clips, but Nick's specification of a three inch barrel with a five round clip did not exist in a standardly manufactured model. But then again, Nick is not a respecter of standards. It is curious to note that Nick never capitalizes shortboy45 unless... Shortboy45 begins a sentence.

Victrola: Indicating a hand cranked record player, made popular in the early 20th century by the Victor Recording Company. Early models played recorded music disks at the then standard 78rpm.

Krug: Premier Champagne house of France. Their Mesnil vineyard, enclosed within a sacred walled acre in the heart of the Champagne district is considered to be the ultimate expression of Champagne production. Krug will only issue a Mesnil Champagne from the best of vintage years. In 1987, the 1971 Krug Mesnil would have been perfectly ready for consumption, a great vintage Champagne needing at least ten years in the bottle before reaching a proper maturity for appreciation.

So... The dichotomies of Nick's personality begin to truly pile up. He's a Monk, who flies a helicopter, carries a custom pistol, has a hot hooker girlfriend, is sartorially aware and knows his Champagne, right down to the fact that one needs to open a bottle of Champagne at a 45 degree angle to let the CO2 pour out to keep from wasting any of the Champagne from its bubbling out the neck of the bottle.

E

E for Eternal: Like Nick and Anna's love... Other things as well.

Nick's description would indicate that Anna's room occupied what had formally been room 512 of the old Temple Hotel. 5 plus 1 plus 2 equals 8, and an 8 on its side is a lemnicate, the mathematical symbol for eternity.

So... Nick's narrative is loaded with Numerological coincidences.

Numerology: Branch of knowledge dealing with occult significance of numbers.

A basic practice of Numerology involves the adding together of individual digits comprising the total of a multiple digit number in order to derive that number's basic Numerological significance. In the example above, 512 equals 8... An 8 being a number of infinite destiny as symbolized by its upright lemnicate shape.

Numerology is rather involved, but curious in its designation of significant numbers is the assignation of particular importance to the numbers 11 and 22. 11 is a master number, not to be reduced by adding 1 plus 1 to equal 2. If a number is basically reduced to an 11, the process stops right there. One just does not fuck around with the number 11. 22 is similar but more so...

Frankly, I do not know what this assignation is for, nor how 11 and 22 came to be regarded as master numbers, but I do know that both 11 and 22 figure significantly throughout Nick's narrative, and that other Numerological coincidences abound.

For example: In Chapter A, corpse of No37 is transported back to the Monastery with Corpse of No73. Both add up to 10. Other Numerological coincidences go deeper...

In Chapter C, 555 California Street adds up to 15 before reducing down to 6. The number 15 in the Tarot Cards (which is particularly dense with Numerological significance) is the number of The Devil Card. This would not be an insignificant matter to Nick.

But what about the number 11? In Chapter A again, the monastery fell victim to arson 33 years prior (3 times 11 but reducing to 6, the Lover's Card, as Nick's parents were lovers) and this would be of significance to Nick. However, as Nick's narrative goes on...

... The number 11 just keeps cropping up.

So again... Numerology is rather involved.

But the more you delve into it... So is Nick... And his narrative.

F

F for Fate: Ignorant destiny meets eternity... Nick's fate ensues.

... Rather poetic on my part. I'm sure Nick would simply say:

F... for Fucked: Wherein I find myself soon to be Fucked.

G

G for Gnosis: Wherein Nick unfairly ups the ante for the reader.

So far... The Onyx Spark Job has been a fairly involved narrative.

As... Nick has involved you, the reader, through his hardboiled syntax, his seemingly random capitalization and his apparently paradoxical existence... It's certainly time for an explanation.

Now... Nick, finally, begins to explain himself.

But it's not until Nick begins to explain himself that you, the reader, begin to get your first real inkling of what The Onyx Spark Job is actually for and just how tremendously involved Nick's narrative is. And the fact that Nick does this in the context of discussing his girlfriend's ass is... Not fair at all.

Gnosis: Knowledge of spiritual mysteries.

And Nick certainly knows his spiritual mysteries. But as stated in the Introduction, he does not write them occultly. Though he does hurl them in the reader's face with such offensive force that Chapter G could just as well be for the remaining gauntlet Nick again uses to weed out the weak from the strong.

What I shall attempt in this Chapter, is to elucidate Nick's handling of spiritual mysteries for the reader. However, prior this attempt, a location, and another offense of Nick's should be duly noted.

The Old Bakery: I did manage to locate the old bakery in Chinatown (est. 1923) that Nick mentions, and I did purchase and consume the Lotus Cakes he mentions in Chapter J (they're ambrosia), but I did not investigate the surrounding buildings for the exact location of Base (too frightened). I mean, did you read The Onyx Spark Job?

Do you actually want to meet these people?

... Let alone intrude upon their privacy?

Capitalization: Nick's first order of business in explaining himself is to break the already thin wall of the first person narrative and criticize those who would dare to criticize his use of capitalization. But there's more to it than that...

Nick further broke the wall of personal narrative by leaving a personal anecdote written in even tinier block letters than usual (appearing to come from a fine-point Fisher Space Pen). Nick's anecdote formed a fine border that encompassed the page upon which his criticism of his critics was written. I reproduce it here, in bold, for the sake of completeness:

Digress... Actually, I am Not. My Father told me about you from the time I could Speak what for myself. As that's how he knew I could Think for myself. He'd say: "Son." I'd say: "Father." "Do you know the difference between someone who's an Asshole... And someone who is Not?" And I'd say: "Tell me, Father..." He would say: "The Asshole has no idea he's an Asshole. If you know what you're being an Asshole for... And how you are being an Asshole. Then you are Not." So, dear critic: You're an Asshole. I am Not.

I'm with Nick on this one...

As stated in the Chapter Notes for Chapter A, some of Nick's capitalization is obviously personal, but mostly it is downright beneficial, and again, it becomes absolutely necessary if one is to keep up with the relentlessly deliberate, direct and offensive manner in which Nick unfairly hurls spiritual mysteries into the face of the reader... But come to think of it... Is it so unfair?

I mean, Nick obviously knows his spiritual mysteries... Obviously paid for them... In the coin of the spiritual realm common for the purchase of its mysteries: Suffering... Pain... Despair... Yes...

Perhaps it is not unfair of Nick to present spiritual mysteries of life and the universe in a relentless, deliberate, direct and offensive manner that may or may not be difficult to read.

And I say may not, because once you understand how to read Nick's presentation of the spiritual mysteries, it is not that difficult to understand what he has written... It is, as with all things to do with Nick Turner, rather involved... But for this I will have to refer ahead to Chapter Z, where Nick, again, offensively breaks the thin wall of first person narrative... I quote:

"All of this is written plain as day. Get out a Dictionary. Look up each word in sequence I wrote them. I wrote it all deliberate direct."

Yes, it is that simple... Not to say that it is easy.

But is that too much for Nick to ask? That you, the reader, exert yourself. Exert yourself so that you may grasp the mysteries of life and the universe. Exert yourself so that you may grasp as your own what another spiritually paid for so dearly in pain. And how much suffering?

Yes... I'm with Nick on this one... I do not think it is too much to ask... Come to think of it... It is Not... Unfair... At all...

So... That said, I shall now attempt to elucidate Nick's handling of spiritual mysteries for the reader.

Let's use Nick's first "mysterious" paragraph as an example:

Willing Beings unimaginable figured Corpse of finest Dust Imaginable. They deserve the reverence devoted to Corpse.

Willing: Ready, eager and prepared to act.

Beings: Supernatural entities.

Unimaginable: Difficult or impossible to comprehend.

Figured: Calculated and worked out.

Corpse: A dead body, especially of a human being.

Of: Expressing the relationship between part and whole.

Finest: Of highest quality.

Dust: Fine, dry powder consisting of tiniest particles.

Imaginable: Possible to be thought of or believed.

They: Refer to those previously identified.

Deserve: Having done and showing qualities worthy.

The: In reference to that unique.

Reverence: Deep respect.

Devoted: Given over to the display, study or discussion.

To: Concerning or likely to concern.

Corpse: A dead body, especially for a human being.

Thus... Ready, eager and prepared to act, supernatural entities difficult or impossible to comprehend, calculated and worked out a dead body especially of a human being, expressing the relationships between part and whole of highest quality fine, dry powder consisting of tiniest particles possible to be thought of or believed. Refer to those previously identified, having done and showing qualities worthy, in reference to that unique, deep respect given over to the study or discussion concerning or likely to concern a dead body, especially of a human being.

Let's look at this again, side by side, as it were:

Nick:

Willing Beings unimaginable figured Corpse of finest Dust Imaginable. They deserve the reverence devoted to Corpse.

Full Exposition (w/2nd sentence definite article restored):

Ready, eager and prepared to act, supernatural entities difficult or impossible to comprehend, calculated and worked out a dead body especially of a human being, expressing the relationships between part and whole of highest quality fine, dry powder consisting of tiniest particles possible to be thought of or believed. Refer to those previously identified, having done and showing qualities worthy, the deep respect given over to the study or discussion concerning or likely to concern a dead body, especially of a human being.

Suddenly, Nick's hardboiled exposition doesn't look so mysterious and involved at all, does it? But this method of analyzing text is nothing new. Word by word is a common technique used to assist students in their study of Shakespeare. Not that Nick Turner is Shakespeare, but... The point in common is: That you can analyze the hell out of any author's work, or you can simply trust they've worked it all out for your benefit, and... Go with the flow.

So... Go with the flow. Trust me... Nick has it all worked out.

With that said, I shall now attempt to duly note what some of Nick's spiritual terms are for. And how they correspond to other spiritual terms extant. As well as give due note to other items Nick hurls as a gauntlet into the face of the reader throughout the course of Chapter G.

Corpse: The human physical body which, devoid of all life, Nick describes as but a sack of dust.

Web: Commonly referred to in spiritual literature extant as the Ether body, or the Formative Force body. Nick describes it as that which sustains the human physical body as a plant is sustained. Thus describing the comatic state of a human being as when they are referred to as being in a vegetable existence. Which is what a human being is without what Nick refers to as...

Soul: Commonly referred to in spiritual literature extant as the Astral body. Lackadaisically referred to by most people as the Mind. Or, also lackadaisically, as: The spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal regarded as immortal. And for Nick, any human being consisting of just Corpse, Web and Soul, is not being human but is a being not much different than an animal.

Nick ascribes many qualities to what he refers to as Soul...

Currents: Bodies moving in definite directions, especially through surrounding bodies. Nick ascribes this running through quality to Soul. He ascribes further qualities to these Soul currents.

According to Nick, Soul currents are also...

Aspected: Which Nick describes as particular parts or features, but also as specific ways of considering, positioned specifically in relation to Soul itself, Web and Corpse so as to...

Combine: Unite, intermingle, merge and simultaneously engage for the common purpose of joining together...

Cognition: The acquirement of knowledge and understanding through experience of the senses that results in perceptions, sensations and notions of what Nick describes as Soul itself, Web and Corpse.

So... Soul has running currents which are also specifically aspected so as to jointly combine the acquired cognition of Soul itself, Web and Corpse. These Nick refers to, respectively, as Thinking, Feeling and Willing. But Nick does not stop there...

Thinking Beings: Figured Soul for us as an emerging humanity in eons past, later figuring running currents specifically aspected so that our eventually human Soul could jointly combine acquired cognition of itself through the act of Thinking. Nick later identifies these Thinking Beings as Angels in Chapter Y.

Feeling Beings: Figured Web for us as an emerging humanity in many eons past, later figuring running currents specifically aspected so that our eventually human Soul could jointly combine acquired cognition of its Web through the act of Feeling. Nick later identifies these Feeling Beings as Archangels in Chapter Y.

Willing Beings: Figured Corpse for us as an emerging humanity in many, many eons past, later figuring running currents specifically aspected so that our eventually human Soul could jointly combine acquired cognition of its Corpse through the act of Willing. Nick later identifies these Willing Beings as Archai in Chapter Y.

And according to Nick, all of this is but in service to...

Spark: The Individual Spirit. Commonly referred to as the "I" in spiritual literature extant and often confusedly, and lazily, referred to as the ego. According to Nick it is the spark of God borne on earth by human beings. Further according to Nick, if this Individual Spirit, this spark of God, is not chosen as borne by the individual, then that individual is not being human.

But according to Nick, according to Nick, according to Nick...

None of this spiritual information is anything new. It is all, in one form or another, extant. But Nick does lay it down for the reader in a rather hardboiled manner unique to his way of handling things.

For a thorough exposition of these matters, I refer the reader to the founding Anthroposophical works of Rudolph Steiner, especially the books: Theosophy, and: Outline of Occult Science.

However, there is one thing Nick throws in your face that is not necessarily discussed in any spiritual literature extant...

The Secret: Do you actually... Like I'm going to tell you anything more about It than Nick already has... Really... I'm disappointed.

But I will point out that when Nick indicates that...

... force of Spark acts of Soul Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

The Secret is contained in the aspect of Soul that is Willing.

The Secret is the grinding point where Willing of Soul crosses to Remembrance of Web... And much force of Spark is galvanized there.

There galvanized, Spark evolves The Secret...

That he refers to an earlier part of Chapter G where he states...

... Web combined of Soul sustains Images Living Remembered.

In this, Nick indicates to the reader something of the location of The Secret and of the nature of Its power... The Secret exists hidden somewhere within the frontier between Soul and Web... This somewhat indicates Its location and somehow reveals Its Web related nature... An indication conspicuous for Nick's lack of emphasis.

For though Nick is always ready to emphasize Soul related issues of thinking, feeling and willing, he seems quite reluctant to emphasize Web related issues of living images remembered. Indeed, if they ever come up, Nick seems to discuss them more compressedly than usual. And that's saying something.

Speaking of compressedly discussed Web related issues...

Mojo: Energy. Magical. A charismatic power that some inexplicably have while others simply do not. Nick's remarkably compressed two line definition, if broken down word for word, demystifies Mojo with dull concision even as he proceeds to discuss the not so dull Web related issue of...

Temple Prostitute: As opposed to some regular hooker who may or may not walk the street for tricks under the thumb of some pimp who may or may not wear a funny hat. Nick's two paragraphs on the what for and how of temple prostitution are rather definitive.

So... Before we move on, let's wrap up one more thing.

The Temple of Nick's People: Nick refers to the burning of the temple of his people on more than one occasion, and no wonder. It was certainly the defining event of his life. But also no wonder, then, that Nick would find affinity with Rudolph Steiner.

The fate of the temple of Nick's people mirrors that of Steiner's first Goetheaneum in Dornach, Switzerland. It was a magnificent structure, built by hand of wood. An amazing feat, considering that its main dome was lager than that of St. Peter's. Steiner, according to all accounts, poured much of his soul (or what Nick would probably term as his Web and Soul) into the very fabric of the structure.

The first Goetheaneum was burnt to the ground in 1922 by an early Nazi arsonist who was caught in the flames and died along with all that Steiner had imbued so thoroughly with himself as a structural and spiritual home for Anthroposophy.

Steiner, by all accounts, including his own, was greatly weakened by the death of the first Goetheaneum. But though weakened in body (what Nick would refer to as Corpse, Web and Soul) Rudolph Steiner was not weakened in Spirit. He would go on to design and commence construction on the second Goetheaneum (of nonflammable reinforced concrete, his design radically innovating such construction) and found the General Anthroposophical Society before his death on this plane three years later in 1925. This early loss of Rudolph Steiner was a tremendous blow to the world in that it resulted in the loss of much love from our plane due to that murderous act of Nazi arson and an act of neglect that Nick refers to in Chapter Y.

H

H for how: Wherein we begin to see how Nick operates on the job.

For all the things Nick describes in sordid, hardboiled detail, or in compressedly hardboiled succinctness, there is one thing Nick never attempts to explain at all...

The Cardinal: The Cardinal offers the job. Nick accepts it and wonders about the Cardinal's relationship with the Pope (though the Cardinal is obviously not a Cardinal of the Church). Nick clocks the Cardinal, shoots him with some kind of dope and cruelly interrogates him for eleven hours. There seems to be no hard feelings on either side about this... Even though the Cardinal had found Nick and redeemed him after Nick had strayed from the monastery and lost himself in wickedness... Nick and the Cardinal have a secret handshake... It goes on and on and on... Yet Nick refuses to ever say exactly who the Cardinal is.

Sure, the Cardinal is Nick's mentor and probably his best friend, but who is he? It's the one point Nick is absolutely mute on. As the narrative progresses, I shall attempt to duly note, wherever I can, details regarding the Cardinal, but I'll tell you right here:

Nick does not ever give up the Cardinal's true identity.

And I'll tell you something else... In regards to Chapter H:

I'm scared to death that the strange book Nick describes as being given to him by the Cardinal will one day show up at my door for me to transcribe...

Nick's Rant: If ever you happen to meet Nick Turner, do not under any circumstances, ask him... "Why?" It was in transcribing Nick's rant to Norma that I first fell in love with Nick Turner. For all Nick's philosophically hardboiled declamation of spiritual stuff, at the basis of it all, Nick speaks for all of us who at any time in our lives have known the frustration of others treating us and judging us as though we were not.

And by that, I mean, as not who we were, or who we are, but how we have become some kind of stupid mirror, reflecting any negative trait someone is in denial of... That they then stupidly berate us for being... Like a verbally abusive parent, or a cruel teacher, or your typical jackass of a boss.

Later, when I got around to transcribing Nick's anecdote about assholes... I fell in love with Nick all over again.

I

I for Investigate: Wherein Nick begins to investigate the job.

Bees: According to Rudolph Steiner, bees are best understood when love is considered to be the motivating factor that governs the activity of the bee hive. This consideration has allowed me many lovely moments between myself and bees upon their rounds. Greeted with feelings of love, bees seem to respond in kind. Nick would be aware of this aspect of bees. He refers to them on more than one occasion... I just can't help but admire the wrongness of Nick using the waxy byproduct of love motivated bees to construct his main tool of investigation...

Voodoo Dolls: And not just some cheap doll of burlap stuffed with chicken feathers designated for some petty victim through a cheap act of questionable hoodoo. No, not at all... Nick makes the real fucking deal... I mean, did you read The Onyx Spark Job? And think about it? Nick's voodoo dolls are disgusting. But not without precedent.

In the mid 1950s, a German occultist by the name of Franz Bardon wrote a series of three books based upon the Tarot that were chock full of all kinds of nasty information, including how to make real voodoo dolls. Bardon's instructions, rather similarly followed by Nick, were involved and nasty. Nick does not reveal in the course of his narrative the extent to which he must have exerted himself in making his dolls, but he describes enough of the procedure to give the reader a picture of what is involved, and at various points (both in Chapter I and later in Chapter W) describes in sordid detail what he constructs the dolls for.

Nick describes other aspects of the dolls that bear noting.

Threads: Nick implies that the vital fluids, soft and hard, make possible threads of investigation that can be used, it seems, in a manner similar to a string stretched between two soup cans that children use in play, by which an doll investigator can send and acquire information to and from the subject under investigation. These threads seem similar to the soul currents commented upon in the last set of Chapter Notes... Though I believe they have a stronger connection to the living images remembered aspects of Web that Nick seems so reluctant to discuss with the reader in greater detail. Perhaps this is an effort on Nick's part to prevent the reader from engaging in any activity that could put them at risk of receiving the...

The Return Blow: Another occultist of the mid 1950s, this one Polish, who wrote under the pseudonym of Mouni Sadhu, also wrote upon the Tarot. In his book, he discusses the phenomenon of the return blow in sordid detail. Nick actually describes it quite succinctly but perhaps an example would serve to clarify things.

Say an occultist wants to harm someone... He constructs a voodoo doll, using clandestinely gathered vital fluids from his victim. He uses the doll to investigate the character of the victim. His research reveals a physical weakness in the physical heart of his victim. He also deduces an astral connection between this physical weakness of the heart and jealousy. The occultist plans an attack.

He constructs a turbulent vortex specifically designated to induce jealousy... He constructs it out of astral matter (for Nick, Soul matter...) and sends it down the thread of connection constructed by use of the victim's doll. This turbulent vortex is designated to lodge itself in the physical heart of the victim with intent to take advantage of the victim's weakness of heart that is connected to jealousy thus bringing on an intense attack of overwhelming jealousy and thereby inducing a fatal heart attack, causing the victim's death.

Prior to sending the turbulent vortex on its unscrupulous way, the occultist designates a proxy... (usually a small pet, for example, a neighbor's dog that the occultist happens to not like in the first place...) to receive any return blow sent down the thread that happens to come back.

Because... What if the occultist was wrong? What if there is a physical weakness of the heart connected to jealousy but by the time of the turbulent vortex's arrival, the victim has had such a change of heart, as it were, so that the vortex cannot in any way find or attach itself to the victim in its designated manner?

Then... The turbulent vortex will indeed return to its maker with all due haste. On its way back it will further pick up speed and malicious intent as it speeds to lodge itself in the heart of its maker... Or in the heart of the poor, innocent unsuspecting pet dog of his neighbor... Any way you look at it... Somebody is going to die.

Like I said, nasty stuff, but I guess the lesson here is that the best defense against an unscrupulous occultist... Is a pure heart.

Forgive me for going on at such length regarding threads and the return blow, but later in Nick's narrative (especially in Chapters W and Z) such functions regarding threads and the return blow do figure prominently. Speaking of things Nick mentions in Chapter I that later figure prominently in The Onyx Spark Job...

Sleep: Yes, sleep... Have you ever wondered exactly what sleep is for and exactly how you happen to exist during the state of sleep?Well, Nick is going to tell you. (Not just in Chapter I, but later with a vengeance, in Chapters Y and Z...) It just may happen that you never approach sleep in the same way again after reading what Nick has to say about how human beings experience... or do not experience... the state of sleep.

Be that as it may, though Nick's passages on the subject of sleep in Chapter I are characteristically succinct, they are, despite that, rather complete in achieving their purpose of describing for the reader the what for and how of sleep's involved connection regarding Nick's method of doll investigation. That said, Nick's passages themselves do raise a point regarding Nick's narrative that is worth making note of.

Nick assumes that you, the reader, are intelligent. A revealing fact indicating that Nick is an idealist. Which is also indicative of Nick's assumption that you have read what has gone before, have grasped it to some extent, can continue to build on it and keep pace with Nick's presentation of spiritual mysteries. In the case of sleep, Nick assumes you have grasped the what for and how of relationships between Corpse, Web, Soul and Spark. (Along with Thinking, Feeling, Willing...) And can build on it regarding their relationships within the state of sleep.

Yet, be that as it may, again, it is another example of Nick, once again, going on to emphasize thinking, feeling and willing aspects of soul while neglecting to elaborate upon web related issues of images living remembered.

Though I certainly believe this to be indicative of the fact that Nick is predominately concerned with the state of the reader's Soul throughout his narrative of The Onyx Spark Job, I cannot help but wonder wether it also has something to do with the fact that Web, being a body of formative force, has more to do with wielding The Secret than Nick is willing to relate... Lest he place an unworthy reader in the position of stumbling across The Secret unawares...

But, returning to things Nick mentions in Chapter I that later figure prominently...

Life Dust: Nick's definition of Life Dust is damn succinct. All that remains for the reader is to break it down word by word. But, that aside, there are a few things about Life Dust worth noting.

Alkaloid: A class of nitrogenous organic compounds of plant origin that have pronounced physiological actions on humans. Morphine being an example of a drug alkaloid. Strychnine being an example of a poisonous alkaloid. But that still does not explain what kind of plant Nick derives his alkaloid for Life Dust from.

And... I cannot tell you. I don't have the slightest idea.

Though I can tell you that plant derived alkaloids are commonly used at present in the manufacture of hormone replacement therapy drugs... I can also refer to the historically documented use of a plant alkaloid in the case of the Roman Centurion Legions.

Roman Centurions were issued licorice root in their marching packs for them to chew upon during long marches between assignments and battles. Licorice contains a plant alkaloid that combines with human hormonic cell receptors in such a way as to physiologically act as testosterone.

Though that still does not answer the question of which plant Nick derives his alkaloid from, it does point to the possibility of the effect being hormonal and that such an activated hormone could be the thing that heightens the activity between the physical body (Corpse) and the body of formative force (Web) that sustains it...

Just one more thing before we move on.

Capitalization: It is interesting to note the Nick capitalizes all familial related nouns such as Brother, Sister, Father... etc.

J

J for Judgement: Wherein Nick begins to form his judgments.

Sleep: Yes, sleep, again. In the previous chapter, Nick tells you how a separation of "bodies" occurs. The human physical body (Corpse) and its formative force body (Web) remain wherever you happen to fall asleep... While the astral body (Soul) and its Individual Spirit (Spark) spiral together out through the...

Cosmos: The universe seen as a well ordered whole... By that, Nick is not referring to a materialistic universe consisting of empty space between planets and stars, though he does at times refer to such material markers later in Chapter Y when describing his own soul's journey. But rather, Nick is referring to cosmic existence underlying matter occupied by planets and stars. Meaning... A spiritual state sympathetically or antipathetically corresponding to the soul and the Individual Spirit itself... Nick further describes this spiral journey as accompanied by Angels and observed by Archangels for the purpose of redemption by what Nick refers to as the...

Hosts: By this, I assume Nick is referring to the hierarchy of beings leading spiritually "upward" from us to God... By which he is referring to the hierarchal designations of beings who exist in advance of our own evolution as taught by...

Dionysius the Areopagite: (1st century AD) Early Greek churchman, converted by St. Paul himself, who went on to become the first bishop of Athens.

And yes, Nick does this all rather succinctly in Chapter I. Though yes, he will delve back into the subject of sleep in sordid detail in Chapter Y. But that said, he does not tell you how this relates to the results of the doll investigation he uses to form his judgments... No surprise... It involves images living remembered.

I shall attempt to flesh this out a bit for the reader but before doing so... It is interesting to note that the soul's journeying quality though the cosmos does lend more credence to the commonly given name of astral body to this "body" of the human being. That said... What about that tenuous current Nick mentions...

What is it for... And how does it relate to sleep?

Tenuous: Very slender, fine. From the Latin tenuis, meaning: Thin.

Current: Again... A body moving in a definite direction, through surrounding bodies. Or, in this case... Moving through the cosmos.

And Nick describes this current as definitely aspected to spiral through the cosmos and maintain a connection between the formative force body (Web) that remains with the sleeping physical body (Corpse) and the spiraling astral body (Soul) that accompanies the Individual Spirit (Spark) through the cosmos. That Nick describes this current as tenuous is certainly indicative of the obviously multidimensional elasticity such a connecting body must possess.

But Nick will further point out in Chapter Y how this current is so tenuous that if ever it is severed... The result will be death.

So... What of Corpse, Web, Soul, Spark, tenuous current and sleep?

This... Has to do with states of consciousness related to sleep.

Waking Consciousness: State of consciousness you are more or less experiencing as you read this... Which you shall continue to more or less experience until you drift off into...

Sleep: Yes, sleep, again and again... Which can be separated into three states of its own...

Dreaming Sleep: State of consciousness during which you experience a more or less incoherent tableau of images living remembered that have been established within your formative force body (Web) which you may or may not experience an emotional reaction to depending upon wether said tableau of images living remembered resonate in sympathy or antipathy with any preconceived notions you may or may not have of what your experienced life should be for and how you may or may not have actualized your life in actual experience...

But basically... Dreaming is a state of consciousness involving images living remembered established within your formative force body, or as Nick would put it, your Web... Though perhaps to dream is a state of consciousness made possible by the fact that the tenuous current Nick refers to is in such a state of dimensional proximity... As to allow a formative force body to be combined of cognition by an astral body... Such a state does not exist in...

Dreamless Sleep: Wherein the tenuous current Nick refers to is not in such a state of dimensional proximity as to allow a formative force body to be combined of cognition by an astral body which would also account for the lack of any images living remembered of what an astral body (Soul) and an Individual Spirit (Spark) spiral into the cosmos for... Nor of how they may or may not experience such a state of multidimensional existence... Phew!

Yet... There is another state of consciousness related to sleep.

In Between Space: Wherein the tenuous current is in such a state of dimensional proximity as to allow for an atavistically coherent tableau of images living remembered to be established within a formative force body during the precise moment they are being combined of cognition by an astral body during the precise moment they are being experienced during the precise moment of transition between the state of waking consciousness and the state of dreaming sleep... What the hell do I mean by that?

Atavistic: A reversion to something ancestral.

Coherent: Logical and consistent.

Tableau: Representing scenes from stories or from history.

So, basically... In Between Space is a state of consciousness that occurs during the precise moment of transition between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep wherein we revert to an ancestral state of consciousness wherein logical, consistent representations of scenes and stories from history are experienced by us as images living remembered that can be combined of cognition... This is...

Clairvoyance: The faculty of perceiving things or events beyond normal range of sensory contact.

That's right... All of us, including you, dear reader, experience a fleeting state of atavistic clairvoyance upon the seemingly quiescent transition between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep.

"What bullshit..." You may well say. "How can I experience a state of clairvoyance twice within twenty four hours and not be aware of it?"

And yes, you do experience atavistic clairvoyance twice a day. The fleeting, seemingly quiescent transition occurs not only between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep when you fall asleep. It also occurs between dreaming sleep and waking consciousness when you awake as well. However, you probably do not notice it because it is such a...

Fleeting: Lasting for a very short time.

Seemingly: Giving the impression of having a certain quality.

Quiescent: In a state or period of inactivity or dormancy.

Transition: The process of changing from one state to another.

But though this process of changing from one state to another does indeed last for a very short period of time, it only gives one the impression of being a state of inactivity or dormancy. When in truth, it is a process positively exploding with psychic activity.

It is also a process that explains some of the psychic activity that occurs later on in Nick's narrative of The Onyx Spark Job...

For example: In Chapter Y, Nick tells us that he had not heard his father's voice since just before his father burned to death. But later, in Chapter for, Nick tells us that his father had shown him things from the land of the dead.

Though the former is an example of Clairaudience: The faculty of perceiving, as if by hearing, what is inaudible. As opposed to the latter, which is an example of clairvoyance. Both are examples of what occurs during... In Between Space.

For further example: Later in Chapter Y, Nick describes Archangels "inhaling" our ideas and "exhaling" them back to us as ideals. It is during the transition between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep as we fall asleep that we "exhale" ideas. And during the transition between dreaming sleep and waking consciousness, as we awake, we "inhale" ideas Archangels have transformed into ideals

An even further example: In Chapter for, Nick describes "asking" questions of, and receiving "answers" from the dead. It is during the transition between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep that we "ask" questions of the dead. We receive "answers" during the transition between dreaming sleep and waking consciousness.

At this point: If you've followed me so far, you should be afraid.

Because: Nick's tenuous current, in its dimensional proximity to In Between Space, is a frightening aspect precisely because we are largely ignorant of what occurs there for the very reason that it is Atavistic. Again... A reversion to an ancestral state... In this case a reversion to an ancestral state of clairvoyance. Which is how to properly describe... In Between Space...

... It's a state of Atavistic Clairvoyance.

According to Rudolph Steiner, what we now experience as atavistic clairvoyance during In Between Space, is all that remains of what our ancestors experienced in ages long past as their state of waking consciousness. What this was for, and how it came to be that we now experience waking consciousness as we do, Dr. Steiner describes thoroughly in his five founding Anthroposophical works.

Suffice it to say: That once upon a time we received impressions of the world around us as a coherent tableau of spiritual images living remembered. This explains much...

It explains: How all those Old Testament Patriarchs lived for all those centuries. They lived as a spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered, which was the waking consciousness of that time. That's how they lived for so damn long... In the waking consciousness of the descendants of their bloodline.

Which also explains: How to read the Bible. It is a testament of the spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered, documented in a manner appropriate for the waking consciousness of that time. That's how to read the Bible... In the context of the waking consciousness of those who wrote at that time.

Which really explains: The foolishness of interpreting the Bible in the context of the waking consciousness of our time. Attempts to interpret the Bible in the context of our contemporary waking consciousness would be funny... If they were not so damn tragic...

I mean... We are different... We have evolved since the Bible was written... Just look at the evolution of alphabets since the time of the Old and New Testaments...

Hieroglyphics: Are obviously abstracted symbols of a spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered that existed for the Egyptians of that time.

While Aramaic: (Being the alphabet of those who wrote the Old and New Testaments) Though far more abstract than Hieroglyphics, is also symbolic of a spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered that existed for those who documented the events of the Old and New Testaments in the manner appropriate for their time.

And Hebraic: Though more abstract than Aramaic, is still symbolic of a spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered. Even though many who are familiar with the Hebraic alphabet may question wether the abstract forms of its letters contain any such symbolism. However... They do... And numerous works extant devoted to the Kabbalah and the Tarot describe in tremendous detail the spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered contained within its forms... As Nick would say... Look it up for yourself.

And so we progress through the austere structure of Greek, through the prosaic arrangement of Latin, as the alphabets of humanity wax in abstraction until... Say...

In English: Only five vowels remain to symbolize the spirit... Ever notice how a lower case "e" resembles an eye... While twenty one consonants are devoted to articulating the outside contours of things. Even though in speaking English, vowel sounds always fight though overwhelming consonants in the expression of schwas where they technically do not belong. And there you have contemporary waking consciousness in the proverbial nut shell...

The spirit, outnumbered five to twenty one, struggling to be heard through the overwhelming superficiality of our time. What the hell is it for? And how do we deal with it?

Well, our ancestors, way before ancient Egypt, had no need of any alphabet. They simply received a spiritually coherent tableau of images living remembered... It was a divine gift that was simply there for all to see... Just as we simply see minerals, plants and animals simply because they are there. But this simple receiving of what was to be seen began to fade away as times changed because the time was approaching for humanity to become individualized.

So, our ancestors developed alphabets to record the knowledge they had divinely received in spiritually coherent tableaus of images living remembered before it was lost. And as waking consciousness became increasingly surface oriented, so did our alphabets become increasingly abstract... Until we now find ourselves increasingly abstracted of spirit... In the overwhelming superficiality of the waking consciousness of our time...

But this was to be. It is our destiny to become individualized. We are no longer to receive spiritually coherent tableaus of images living remembered as divine gifts simply received. We are to make ourselves worthy... And go out and get them for ourselves.

So now we return to... In Between Space... The tenuous current in dimensional proximity to the formative force body and the astral body during the fleeting, seemingly quiescent transition between waking consciousness and dreaming sleep... The state of atavistic clairvoyance.

Again: If you've followed me so far... You should be very afraid.

Dammit! It's the Atavistic part that's so damn frightening... It's the key to Black Magic... And... It's the key to Evil!

I mean... Come on! Evil... Is to live in reverse! Live... Spelled in reverse... Spells evil! Don't tell me... You've never wondered where that comes from... Oh come on! ... Get with it! ... WAKE UP!

Atavism is a reversion. Not an advancement! Atavistic clairvoyance is a reversion to a state of waking consciousness appropriate for our ancestors. Not an advancement of our present state of waking consciousness! And since we are largely ignorant of it, atavistic clairvoyance is a state of peril of which we are largely ignorant.

When a practitioner of Black Magic aims to attack us, as we have seen in Chapter I, he or she aims their turbulent vortex precisely for the tenuous current in its dimensional proximity to our state of atavistic clairvoyance. Either the turbulent vortex attaches to its destination with the ensuing damage, or it does not, ensuing the Return Blow.

Either way, an atavistic technique has been used in an atavistic attack upon an atavistic state of consciousness of which we are largely ignorant of... Which, if I may say so, is a good thumbnail definition of Black Magic.

Later, in Chapter for, Nick warns us of insidious influence coming from the Legions of Hell. And it is precisely through our tenuous current in its dimensional proximity to our state of atavistic clairvoyance, of which we are largely ignorant, that the Legions of Hell attempt to exert their influence. Either their attempts are successful, and our hell on earth ensues, or their attempts to influence us through our ignorance are in vain... And we maybe stand a chance... For ensuing heaven on earth.

Either way you slice it, hellish beings have used atavistic means to exert their atavistic influence upon our atavistic state of consciousness. All of which we are largely ignorant of... Which, I must say, fairly describes what I'd call the Knife's Edge of evil.

Don't go smug on me... Presuming you're safe because you're awake.

Being what passes for awake these days does not necessarily mean you are fully engaged in what is supposed to be our present state of waking consciousness... I mean, just how awake are you at any given time?

Do you brood over the past? Fret with the present? And worry about the future? Of course you do! We all do... But that does not mean it's right to do so.

When you brood over the past... You obsess over your images living remembered and atavistically disassociate yourself from being fully connected to our present state of waking consciousness in a reversionary attempt to justify your past in accordance with your sympathies and antipathies.

When you fret with the present... You're obsessed with your images living remembered and atavistically disassociate yourself from being fully connected to our present state of waking consciousness in a reversionary attempt to justify your present in accordance with your sympathies and antipathies.

When you worry about the future... You obsess about your images living remembered and atavistically disassociate yourself from being fully connected to our present state of waking consciousness in a reversionary attempt to justify your future in accordance with your sympathies and antipathies.

Either of three ways... You obsess images living remembered and atavistically disassociate from our state of waking consciousness in a reversionary attempt to over justify your life in accordance with your sympathies and antipathies about what your life should be for and how you may or may not have actualized it... In doing so, you are not fully awake in a manner appropriate to our present state of waking consciousness... By doing so, you open yourself to the influences of the Legions of Hell, and if you are particularly unfortunate... To the attacks of a Black Magician.

Be that as it may, the key word here is...

Obsess: Preoccupy or fill the mind continually, intrusively and to a troubling extent... In the sense of haunt, possess and referring to an evil spirit... From the Latin: obsess (besieged.) From the verb: obsidere. Being derived from: ob (opposite) + sedere (sit.)

Which sits opposite, as it were, to another key word...

Devote: Give all or a large part of one's time or resources to a person, activity or cause... In the sense of dedicate formally and consecrate... From the Latin: devot (consecrated.) From the verb: devovere. Being derived from: de (formally) + vovere (to vow.)

K

K for Kick: Wherein Nick will soon be kicked off this plane.

The Letter K: Ever wonder what for and how our letters are formed? Take K for example. An upright line stands for the individual. Two lines either come from before it and strike into its center, or emanate from it like a dualistic blow into the future. This is not an example of how consonants describe the contours of things. For that you must listen to and feel the K sound emanating from yourself. That "Kah" sound emanating from your throat and off your palate as it wraps up your intention to forcefully expel... It's what puts the kick at the end of the word "Fuck."

Belons: Variety of oyster originating in the Belon river of France and characterized by a flat and round shape with a clean and crisp flavor. To bite into a belon is to experience the pristine essence of a subtle, ancient river. The designation of xxx ooo refers to the oyster's size... A xxx ooo belon would have the diameter of an american half dollar and be four times as thick.

Onyx Restaurant serving xxx ooo belons indicates a certain level of sophistication in its board of fare. Just as Nick ordering them with more Krug Mesnil indicates his own level of sophistication in culinary matters. And by the way... Nick would indeed have to toss a fat wad of cash to cover what in 1987 dollars would probably, in Nick's case, be a $3800.00 tab.

Oysters, champagne, evening wear, firearms, spiritual mysteries, voodoo dolls... All indications that Nick certainly possesses many levels of sophistication... Nick certainly indicates an entirely different level of sophistication when he describes just how he...

Dresses Particularly for a Job: First off, Nick shaves his monk's beard then cuts his hair tight to his skull with enough left on top to comb a part. Known as high and tight, it's a military style that along with Nick's clean shaven face leaves nothing for an opponent to grab onto during a fight.

American Optics Squared Jet Fighter Shades: The American Optics Company manufactures eye wear to the specifications of the United States Military. Their Jet Fighter Shades possess ideally tinted lenses that enable a pilot to stare directly into the sun for one second without otherwise impairing the pilot's vision. The squared lensed models usually come equipped with straight arms, as opposed to ones that are curved at the end, which may say something about the length between Nick's eyes and his ears.

Dark Red Silk around Nick's Neck: All neck wear is symbolic of the speaking intent of its wearer. In Nick's case, a dark red silk of sufficient length to wrap around his neck is certainly symbolic of his intent to speak of blood and judgement.

White Pocket Tee Shirt: Nick's hair and eye wear are militarily derived, certainly indicative of his violent intent as symbolized by his neck wear, but they are also working class just as military service is a largely working class occupation. Nick's pocket tee shirt is certainly a workingman's garment, but also indicative of Nick's love of pockets. He is always mentioning and using pockets.

Ebony and Silver Rosary of Nick's people: Nick and his people pray the Rosary differently than other Rosary faiths, indicating that the Rosary of Nick's faith would certainly differ from Rosaries of other people. But the point here is that Nick's Rosary is made of black wood and white metal... The color red being implicit in the terminating Crucifix... Emphasizing once more the color palate of black, white and red... Which is ever evident in Nick's clothing.

Black Dickies 874 Workingman's pants: A product of the Williamson Dickies Manufacturing Company... If you've ever seen a workingman wearing plain front cotton poly pants with a fade resistant color, you've most likely seen a pair of Dickies 874 workingman's pants.

Black Cop Belt with silver Crucifix Buckle: Observe the belt worn by the next police officer you see. But the point is, again, black leather and white metal... The red being implied by shortboy45 in the black pancake holster in the small of Nick's back.

Vostok Amphibian Officer's Watch: Established by Joseph Stalin, Vostok (Russian for East) was the main supplier of timepieces for the Soviet Military. The Amphibian Officer's Watch is a 31 jeweled automatic movement, a copy of Zenith's "El Primero" movement. It's waterproof to 200 meters, tough enough to survive a nuclear blast, and Nick probably wears a KGB Officer's model... Its color scheme would fit Nick's black, white and red motif.

Black Doc Marten's model 1919 steel toed boots: Founded by a Dr. Klaus Martens in post WWII Germany, the Dr. Marten's Shoe Company became a British concern in the 1960s. Typified by translucent rubber air cushioned soles, heat-galvanized to hard rubber welts of sturdy leather uppers, Doc Marten's shoes and boots went on to become the footwear choice of workingmen and women around the globe... The model 1919, with its steel toed design, is more than capable of taking on, or giving out, any level of human punishment its owner may require.

Masonic Knight's Frock Coat: I eventually found and purchased one for myself. They are just as Nick describes, right down to the secret pockets expertly tailored into the inside seams of the funereally pleated tails. A detail Nick would approve, considering his preoccupation with pockets. However, there is one detail Nick omits in his description: Blood red Christian crosses, embroidered with gold, sewn onto the cuff of each sleeve. This accentuates the luxurious deep charcoal flannel of the coat itself and results in an eminent expression of Nick's color scheme. For Nick himself is black... And white... And red... With the blood of his crucifying judgement. That said, Masonic Knight's Frock Coats are the fucking coolest coats I have ever seen... Elegant, authoritative and grim as hell... No wonder Nick chooses to wear them to work... Despite any misgivings he may have with other articles of masonic faith.

L

L for Lam-ed: Wherein Nick will soon be sacrificed... To the Gods.

The Hebraic letter Lam-ed: Assigned to the Sephira Tiphareth in...

The Kabbalistic Tree of Life: Being constituted of ten "visible" Sephira (and an eleventh "invisible" Sephira) with corresponding lines of influence, or "paths" connecting them all together. Each Sephira (excluding the "invisible" eleventh) is assigned a letter of the Hebraic alphabet, corresponding to the letter's inherent symbolism. Again, in the case of Lam-ed, it is assigned to the...

Sephira Tiphareth: Being the sixth Sephira in the Tree of Life, corresponds the to principle of the Sacrificed God. And in the...

Tarot: The 22 cards of the Major Arcana correspond to each of the Sephira and "paths." Wherein the letter Lam-ed is assigned to the 12th Major Arcana card... Referred to as the Hanged Man. Which is also symbolic of the principle of the sacrificed God... And...

In Chapter L: Nick is on his way to being sacrificed to the Gods.

The Patriarch: In Chapter D, in his succinct way, Nick has all but told us that the King is the main artery for the Russian Mafia into the United States. It would only make sense that such a major mafioso as the King would have access to a major religious figure from his nation... And in the Orthodox religions of the East, Patriarchs are the major religious figures at the head of their Churches... My guess is that the Patriarch Nick encounters in Chapter L is most likely the Patriarch of an autocephalous Church.

Autocephalous: Of an Eastern Christian Church. Appointing its own head. Not subject to the authority of an external patriarch or archbishop... Sounds a lot like Nick's people but for one thing...

Matriarchate: A matriarchal form of social organization in which relationships are reckoned along female lines. As opposed to a...

Patriarchy: A system of society or government in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it. And...

Nick's people: Are, indeed, rather matriarchate. They pray their Rosary in a decidedly matriarchal manner, the Rosary itself being an insistence of the Virgin Mary. They practice beekeeping, the hive itself being rather matriarchal. Their monastery includes women, not just men... No wonder the Patriarch, upon discovering Nick's Rosary, righteously smites him upside the skull... Leading Nick to recite... The Eleventh Commandment:

"Thou Shalt Not Steal Love, Nor Deny Golgotha... Pharisee."

After which, Nick tells us...

That's what for The Ten Commandments of all the Traitor Churches. And how it's summed up. As The Eleventh Commandment of my people.

Do... Nick's people have a Commandment other than their Eleventh?

I mean... Who was their Moses? Joan of Arc? Oh My God... Was she?

Which leads me to wonder about...

The Certain Chapel: What does it contain? The Patriarch certainly does not want its contents released to the outside world. Does he especially want to keep the contents from falling into the hands of a matriarchate society such as Nick's?

And it's curious to note: Nick never capitalizes on "his people."

M

M for Mori: Wherein Nick is soon to face his own mortality.

Mori: The Latin word for death. As in the Latin phrase...

Momento Mori: Meaning... "Remember you will Die."

And Nick is certainly en route to his own death in Chapter M.

But the point here is: Momento Mori is a common phrase amongst...

Rosicrucians: Elite order of Christian Knights founded in the 15th century by Christian Rosenkreutz who rigorously trained his circle of disciples through excruciating discipline thereby profoundly initiating them unto the severest levels of spiritual experience unlocking the most involved secrets of life and the universe.

As shall be seen, by those with eyes to see, as it were, Nick does indeed endure an initiation of Rosicrucian cosmological experience involving the secrets of life and the universe as, sustained by a massive dose of Life Dust, he dies... But lives to tell the tale.

N

N for Not: Wherein Nick finds himself still alive... But Not.

By the way, dear reader, in these Chapter Notes I do follow Nick's idealistic lead mentioned in the Chapter Notes for Chapter I... By assuming that you have read what has gone before, have grasped it to some extent for yourself, have continued to build upon it, and have kept pace with how Nick's narrative fits together.

That said... In Chapter N, Nick is not dead. He is having an...

Out of Body Experience: A perilous state being similar to sleep in so far as the physical body lies dormant while the astral body and Individual Spirit journey off on adventures of their own, but being dissimilar to sleep in so far as the formative force body has, to a large extent, accompanied the astral body and Individual Spirit on the journey. Such a state being perilous, in so far as a small portion of the formative force body has been left behind to sustain the life of the physical body and maintain the connection of the tenuous current with the other absent, journeying bodies.

This perilous state is often lackadaisically referred to as Astral Projection, an inadequate term considering the involvement of the formative force body. Especially since such a state being recalled at all as "experience" is entirely due to the involvement of the formative force body... Which has everything to do with...

Memory: A person's power to remember things.

But what forms this power? For a further definition of it is...

Memory: The capacity of a substance to return to a previous state or condition after having been altered or deformed.

And that's how the formative force body is entirely involved in the matter of memory... As Nick finally gets around to saying in Chapter Z...

... There's something I had neglected to mention earlier.

Web combined of Soul rectified of Spark functions to establish Images Living as Remembrance. Thinking, Feeling and Willing of Soul establish Images Living Remembered within Web. Mystery of Memory is thereby resolved. Go back and figure it out yourself.

Easier said than done... But that said...

The formative force body has power. It has the power to repair and sustain the physical body from damage and dissolution... Thereby demonstrating that it has the capacity to return the physical body to a previous state and sustain a physical condition... But with that said...

What is the nature of the formative force body's power? For that it is useful to look at memory. And how the formative force body functions as an establishment of images living remembered.

Say you see an image of light. This image of light is combined of cognition by your astral body... Just as it is rectified by being observed by your Individual Spirit... And is thereby established within the matter, as it were, of your formative force body as an image of light, living as light, that is remembered as light... In this way we may be tempted to say that the nature of the formative force body's power is akin to light. But that is not necessarily so... For there are many types of sensory images that live as remembered, established within the matter of the formative force body... As we also have olfactory, tactile and auditory memories in addition to visual memories... And is this not rather akin to the nature of electricity?

In electricity we do indeed find such a power which by its nature provides us with visual sensory images, in addition to olfactory, tactile and auditory sensory images that it also provides. Such is the nature of...

Electricity: Form of energy resulting from an existence of charged particles (such as electrons or protons), either statically as an accumulation of charge, or dynamically as a current.

Yes... In electricity we find a form of energy which by its nature is akin to the power of the formative force body... But we find more... We also find that which is charged either statically as an accumulation of charge, or dynamically as a current... Just as the Individual Spirit charges through the astral body's currents so that the formative force body can statically accumulate in order to sustain the physical body, or dynamically as a current in order to repair any physical damage... Or as it charges through currents so that the formative force body can statically accumulate images living remembered, or dynamically in order to remember any living images.

Which is a lot like Nick pointing out in Chapter G...

... force of Spark acts of Soul Thinking, Feeling and Willing.

The Secret is contained in the aspect of Soul that is Willing.

The Secret is the grinding point where Willing of Soul crosses to Remembrance of Web... And much force of Spark is galvanized there.

There galvanized, Spark evolves The Secret...

As when he was referring to an earlier point in Chapter G...

... Web combined of Soul sustains Images Living Remembered.

And as pointed out in the Chapter Notes to Chapter G... Nick was pointing to the location of The Secret and to the nature of Its power... The Secret existing between Soul and Web... The Secret's location revealing Its Web related nature...

And as pointed out in the Chapter Notes to Chapter I... This revealed Nick's concern with the state of the reader's Soul... But also that Web, being a body of formative force, had more to do with wielding The Secret than Nick was willing to relate...

Be that as it may... Nick does reveal various clues regarding the formative force nature of wielding The Secret throughout his narrative of The Onyx Spark Job... Despite the fact that he never reveals exactly how this is done.

Some clues reveal an electrical nature. Like the nature of the way Nick starts Anna's car, Kitty, in Chapter W. Or the electrical way he flies the copper wires to the transformer switch outside Onyx in Chapter N. Where he observes the nature of electricity itself as "hot crazy subcompress level of unwieldy light." Which, by the way, gives us a fair description as to the nature of formative force, in and of itself.

Other clues involve various phenomena of light. Like the involved phenomena of the Kid's green mist light in Chapters F, R and S. Or various phenomena involving Nick's light magnet eyes and x-ray metaphorical vision in Chapters T, U, W, X, Z, and in Chapter how.

There are clues regarding the images living remembered nature of the formative force body itself. Like when Nick "hears" the Kid's confession in Chapter V. Or when the Cardinal stands for judgement in Chapter Z. And when, in Chapter and how, the Cardinal reveals a future of humanity.

These various clues are all evident in Chapter Z when Nick reveals the manner in which he grimly combined them all in his judgement of the King and the Mark... I do admit... The manner in which Nick wielded the Secret was indeed grim... And I indeed enjoyed it.

But with all of that said... There do remain a couple of revealing issues to make note of... Regarding Chapter N... Mainly involving the relationship between the...

Perilous State of an Out of Body Experience and Death: As stated above in the fourth paragraph of these Chapter Notes, such a state being perilous in so far as a small portion of the formative force body has been left behind to sustain the life of the physical body and maintain the connection of the tenuous current with an absent journeying astral body and Individual Spirit... The peril being in that the tenuous current is, indeed, a relatively thin and fragile tether for a journeying astral body and Individual Spirit designed to be anchored by the powerful nature of the formative force body as it sustains and repairs the dormant physical body... For every degree the formative force body is absent there is a corresponding multi dimensional strain upon the tenuous current... Increasing the risk of severance... Which would result in the inability of the formative force body to return... Leaving the physical body bereft of that which sustains it... Meaning the physical body will soon cease its function as a body... Commencing a state of organic dissolution we commonly refer to as death... Resulting in a state of dissolution corresponding to death for the formative force body... Eventually leading to a state of dissolution corresponding to death for the astral body... Virtually, the Individual Spirit is indestructible... So you never really die... Be that as it may, you have prematurely abandoned earth... Possibly due to malicious interference of outside forces... Probably due to your own foolish involvement with matters best left alone... But any way you slice it... Love has been stolen from the earth... And if Nick gets involved... There's going to be hell to pay... Speaking of Nick...

What's involved with Nick in Chapters M through Q? For they do involve Nick's death... How does Nick survive 5 chapters of death?

Life Dust: As Nick tells us: "A plant alkaloid heightening actions between sack of Dust that is Corpse and Web of Life that sustains it." But Nick does not tell us what an "ass load" of Life Dust is in comparison to other measurements. Though he does indicate that a quarter of an ass load is more Life Dust than he ingests in the course of three months. Whatever that amount is, Nick tells us: "There was enough Life Dust in me to pull a cancerous Pachyderm from the brink."

So basically... Nick's telling us that his system is involved with a plant alkaloid capable of heightening the activity between his physical body and his formative force body to such a degree that it could sustain the life and repair the damage equivalent to that of a cancer ridden elephant upon the brink of death... Certainly enough to sustain Nick's life... And repair what damage Nick's in for... But that's how Nick survives through 5 chapters of Death.

O

O for Ouch: Wherein Nick clocks himself, painfully... Out of life.

... A bit prosaic on my part. I'm sure Nick would say:

O... for Ouch: As in... That Fucking... Hurt!

The Dollmakers: I can never decide wether Nasty and Bitch know what they are doing, or are just instinctively clever and, up to a point, lucky. I mean, did they spin the slab into a cross to piss Nick off and set him up, or was it just how they happened to open Nick's coffin? Was it just convenient for Bitch to yank out Nick's toenail (which was probably from the same toe stabbed by the Bruce with his knife stick in the Grill) or were they setting Nick up to reenter his physical body and clock himself on the slab... If they were indeed setting Nick up, then they definitely knew something about the formative force body and its relationship to the...

Out of Body Experience in Relation to Death: Say, you are relaxed upon the floor, ready to enjoy a nap. Suddenly, instead of falling asleep, you are gently floating above your physical body. What has happened is that a small portion of your formative force body has slipped away to join your astral body and Individual Spirit with enough of your formative force body remaining within your physical body for you feel safely anchored, which is how you can remember the living images of this adventure, as you gently float away from above your physical body, and drift towards the back door. Someone starts a lawnmower. You are drawn back into your physical body. As if by a lazily receding tide. You open your eyes. The starting of the lawnmower was enough of an auditory sensory image living to be remembered. It drew the attention of your Individual Spirit with your astral body and thus your formative force body back into your no longer dormant physical body. Yes... This did indeed happen to me. And yes, I was very irritated with my neighbor for choosing to finally mow his stupid lawn at that particular moment. But I am not a black magician. His stupid dog lives to this day. Now say... You are lying in bed, ready or not, you are going to die. There is a numb prickly sensation in your skull, exactly the sensation you get when one of your limbs falls "asleep" but little did you know that the sensation of a limb falling "asleep" is exactly what occurs when the part of the formative force body usually associated with that limb slips out like a disassociated phantom appendage. Oh shit... That numb prickly sensation in your skull means that the part of your formative force body usually associated with the skull of your physical body is peeling out like a disassociated phantom. The sensation continues down your neck, your arms, your heart falls "asleep" then your legs go all prickly numb until all that remains feeling relatively normal is your feet. Your feet go prickly numb. Suddenly, instead of lying in bed, you are Dead and floating above your now lifeless corpse. The tenuous current is a shredded karmic rope that is no longer there. No... This did not happen to me. But does not happen to mean that I cannot read, ask questions and, as Nick often urges, figure things out for myself.

The point of all this is... Nick rolled back into his physical body in the exact reverse order his formative force body would peel out on an occasion of death... Which indicates that Nick's out of body experience involved a large enough portion of his formative force body as to have been extremely near death.

P

P for Purgatory: Wherein Nick finds himself, indeed, in Purgatory.

Purgatory: Roman Catholic doctrine: A place or state inhabited by sinner's souls expiating sins prior going to heaven, characterized by mental anguish or suffering of a cleansing, purifying quality. From Anglo Norman French purgatorie or medieval Latin purgatorium, of late Latin purgatorius 'purifying,' from the verb purgare.

Be that as it may... Prior his purgatory, Nick must first fly...

The Mandala Tunnel: And I can tell you from personal experience that it is exactly as Nick describes it... How I came to face the Mandala Tunnel is too telling of teenage stupidity to bear noting here... What bears notice here is that it involved my having a...

Near Death Experience: Not all death experiences occur as the one described in the Chapter Notes for Chapter O. Death is a manifold experience, as dependent upon the individual to whom it occurs, as it is upon the situation in which it occurs. Say... It occurs that an individual is suddenly confronted by a situation of a seemingly certain death. Given such a situation, the individual's formative force body may simply remove itself from your physical body to get itself the fuck out of harm's way. No... Your formative force body is not a coward. It is simply performing its capacity as sustainer and restorer of its physical body. The moment in which a formative force body removes itself from the sheath of its physical body is not a seemingly quiescent moment. It is a quiescent moment. Time comes to but a standstill. It all becomes quite clear. By removing itself from the situation, your formative force body has afforded you a crucial moment to make a crucial decision or take a crucial action which may or may not extricate your physical body from the ensuing damage. And if there is nothing to be done, and the damage ensues, your formative force body will not be there to remember any living images of its physical body receiving the damage. So... If you survive, your formative force body will be all the more capable of performing its capacity of sustaining and restoring its physical body to its previous state of condition. Yes... This did happen to me. And yes, my formative force body repaired the damage in an amazingly short period of time. But the point here is that I indeed saw the...

Mandala: Geometric figure of spiritual content. It was an enormous circular disk composed of rectangular images, not two dimensional, but of impossible depth and joined together to form a living coil that spiraled counterclockwise, starting from an outside curve of the disk, just as Nick described, inevitably turning on itself to its center with such an involvement of absolute remembrance as to be incomprehensibly about this world but not of it, and though the images were individual, they were so seamlessly joined together in living depth of absolute remembrance, that they formed a seamless geometrical figure of spiritual content, composed of individual images living remembered, representing the karmic involvement of an individual. Yes... I saw this. And yes, I knew the individual represented was me. But the point here is that I saw this Mandala and knew that it was indeed a...

Tunnel: Passage through a previous barrier. Did I not mention that this thing was big? Take an extra large pizza pan, hold it a foot away from your head at a 45 degree angle from your right eye and that's how big this thing was for my field of vision. Now imagine that this thing is that big for your field of vision from 50 yards away. That's how big that damn thing was! And as Nick said, the first image lived an outside curve of the disk. It was a static image, but an image that lived so statically composed of absolute remembrance, that it represented every karmic action I had ever taken throughout my short life to bring me to that point in time where I now faced certain death through my own teenage stupidity. And the first image seamlessly joined to a second image that lived so composed of absolute remembrance that it represented every karmic action I had ever taken throughout my life to bring me to the point in time represented by the first image. The second image seamlessly lead to a third image living composed of absolute remembrance that represented every karmic action I had ever taken throughout my life to bring me to the point in time represented by the second image. The third image leading to a fourth image living composed of absolute remembrance representing every karmic action I had ever taken to bring me to the point in time represented by the third image. The fourth lead to a fifth image living composed of absolute remembrance representing every action I had ever taken to bring me to the point in time represented by the fourth image. The fifth lead to a sixth image living of absolute remembrance representing every action I had taken to bring me to the point in time represented by the fifth. The sixth lead to a seventh image living absolutely remembered representing every action I had taken to bring me to the point represented by the sixth. The seventh lead to an eighth image living remembered representing action I had taken to the point represented by the seventh. The eighth lead to a ninth living remembered action I had taken to point of the eighth. The ninth lead to a tenth. The tenth to an eleventh... On and on... unto thousands of these images... Holy Fuck! I was going to DIE! I was going to be sucked into that first image and second to the third then the fourth and on and on until I became an image living absolutely remembered of every action I had ever karmically taken, flying a counterclockwise spiraled incomprehensible karmic mind-fuck backwards through my life. Yes... I knew this big ass thing was the passage way from life through to death. Of course, I lived to tell the tale. But the point here is that the Mandala Tunnel is indeed the...

First Stage of Death: During which you relive your life backwards, courtesy of your formative force body. Enduring a period roughly equivalent to the amount of time you are able to maintain a waking consciousness before succumbing to the necessity of sleep... Which equates to the amount of time your formative force body is capable of sustaining its charge of your physical body before giving in to the necessity of discharging itself of static waking consciousness whilst simultaneously being charged through the tenuous current by the dynamism of the astral body and Individual Spirit as they sail through the cosmos...

In Chapter G, Nick refers to the formative force body as being an "Ethereal Phantom" woven into the fabric of the physical body. You die and "give up the ghost". Your formative force body discharges its final capacity by giving back all the images living remembered it accumulated in the course of your life. Starting from your most recent moment, leading back to the moment your life began, as your formative force body itself forms the passage from life through to death by bringing you back to the moment your life began... Which is but a prelude to the...

Second Stage of Death: During which you relive your life backwards again, courtesy of your astral body. Enduring a period equivalent to the amount of time you spent sleeping... Which equates to the time your Individual Spirit spent combining cognition through your astral body of what you did unto others and how your life affected them... And now, with no relative layer of protection afforded you by a formative force body, and without the shock absorbing density of a physical body, your Individual Spirit is forced to make your astral body pay for what you did unto others and how it affected them through the mental anguish and suffering of Purgatory... Nick succinctly describes it in Chapter P...

I was soon alone and shaking in the Nothingness. I was Fucked. I had never made through the whole Tunnel. The next stage of Death is much worse. During it you relive your Life backwards again to experience all the pain you've caused to others as your own. But three Times as intense.

But the thing is... Nick can remember living images of his second stage of death... Indicating that Nick's formative force body had not fully dissolved into the ether... Nick had not fully entered a second stage of death before his purgatory was interrupted by the timely arrival of...

The Cardinal: Apparently, up to the events described in Chapter P, Nick had been frustrated in his attempts to discover the identity of his enigmatic mentor. When the Cardinal finally reveals himself as an iconic composite of images living on the outermost edge of purgatorial remembrance, Nick is finally able to put together the clues and discover who his friend is. As mentioned in the Chapter Notes for Chapter H, Nick never gives up the true identity of the Cardinal. However, Nick does give up the Cardinal's clues as they were revealed to him on the edge of Purgatory...

Zenith 1900 Pocket Watch: (1911-38) Based on the Cal.18 Movement.

What would evolve into Zenith Watch Manufacture was instituted in 1861 (year of Rudolph Steiner's birth) by Georges Favre-Jacot (at 22 years old) in the city of Le Locle, Switzerland. In 1896, upon completing a prototype of the Cal.18, Favre-Jacot stepped into the night air to relax and clear his head. He lifted his gaze to the starry sky and in that quiescent moment of relaxed genius, saw the fixity of the Polar Star above the earth, beheld the transcendent rotation of galaxies about its axis and knew that it had all been inspired... Somehow been transfixed... Into the Cal.18 Movement.

Yes, a transcendent moment. But in that moment Georges Favre-Jacot knew the Cal.18 had been cosmically inspired as an almost perfect instrument by which to measure the movement of time upon earth. He christened the Cal.18 "Zenith" and readied his prototype for full scale production.

The horological world watched, as the Zenith Cal.18 swept the 1900 Paris Grand Prix of Watchmaking. Upon Favre-Jacot's death in 1911, Le Locle Watch Manufacture was renamed Zenith Watch Manufacture. and from then on all Zenith pocket watches would bear the Cal.18's Grand Prix awards upon their innermost casing... Which is how they came to be commonly referred to as Zenith 1900 Pocket Watches.

Sure, you could buy a more accurate movement between 1896 and 1938 but they were delicate, hard to find, and prohibitively expensive. The Zenith Cal.18 was durable, readily available, but most of all, affordable. Not to say they were considered common. Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, who could afford to give whatever he pleased, gave Zeniths to those of his Imperial Military who had demonstrated outstanding bravery. Rather telling of the fact that Zenith Cal.18 was the watch movement most coveted by soldiers across continental Europe and Russia. In the heat of battle, in the midst of fate, or in the face of certain death, one could count on their Zenith to mark the time.

45ACP Broomhandled Mauser M712 with Shoulder Stock: (1896) World's first semi automatic pistol. Developed in by three brothers behind the back of Paul Mauser, surviving brother of two who had founded the German firearms manufacturer Mauser. Originally called the C96 (for Construktion 96) it came to be called the Broomhandle Mauser for its distinctive broom handle shaped pistol grip. Its design is further distinguished by its ten cartridge capacity box magazine housed in front of its trigger and a wooden holster which doubles as a shoulder stock when attached to a slot built into the "broom handle" pistol grip. The Model 712 was later developed as a fully automatic version of the original design. Models utilizing 45ACP (Automatic Colt Pistol) cartridges were developed in China (mid 1920s) in the province of Shansi during the Warlord Period.

Thompson 1921 Machine Gun: Otherwise known as "Tommy Gun", "Trench Broom", "Irish Sword", "Chicago Piano"... Blowback designed, fully automatic rifle, firing 45ACP cartridges at a rate between 600 and 1200 rpm (rounds per minute) depending upon the model. Model 1921, the first publicly available model, fired at a rate of 800 rpm. It achieved everlasting infamy during the Prohibition era in Chicago.

Webley M4 455: (1896) Breach loading six shot revolver, (jabbing a thumb catch lever activates a spring, breaking open the revolver at its cylinder axis in front of the trigger, while simultaneously activating an extractor which ejects the spent cartridges from the cylinder, readying the revolver for a quick reloading), utilizing Webley .455 cartridges. Developed by Webley Scott for the English Military in 1887 and introduced as M1, the design would undergo many revisions. The M4, introduced to military service during the Boer War, was prized for its ability to eject an opponent from any English trench said opponent was foolhardy enough to intrude upon.

Red Fez: A brimless red felt hat in the shape of a truncated cone. Named after its city of origin: Fez, Morocco. Originally designed in the 1500's for use as (believe it or not) military headgear.

So... These five obscure items provide Nick all the clues he needs to finally fathom the identity of his enigmatic mentor and friend. What meaning these items have for Nick, and how they are revealing of the Cardinal's true identity is a mystery Nick entirely glosses over... As though to indicate that it is obvious... Though for the reader... It is not... Which is probably Nick's point entirely...

Other than... The Cardinal is one, bloody, serious man of action.

Q

Q for Quest: Wherein the Cardinal puts Nick to The Question.

The Cardinal: Chapter Q truly belongs to the Cardinal. But before he can truly give Chapter Q over to his mentor, Nick again gives another enigmatic clue regarding his friend's identity. Again, he mentions it as though it were obvious the Cardinal would wear...

Three Piece Harris Tweeds: A three piece suit consists of jacket, vest and pants, all tailored from the same fabric... But Harris Tweed is some fabric... Exclusively woven in the Hebrides region of Scotland by local artisans out of wool locally sheared from the region's sheep, distinguished by earthen hues derived from locally gathered lichen based dyes and further distinguished by a coarse, even scratchy, hand feel... To wear a three piece suit of Harris Tweed is the sartorial equivalent of wearing a bespoke tailored hair shirt.

So... This man Nick and others refer to as the Cardinal wears what basically amounts to a custom tailored full body hair shirt. Which can be regarded, albeit remotely, as questionably penitent. Nick finally identifies him for his iconic martial image. Which can be regarded, albeit nostalgically, as questionably Jesuit. The point is, ultimately, this man stands so high in Nick's regard by virtue of his unquestionable mastery of the spiritual mysteries. Which is probably the reason Nick and others refer to him as the...

Cardinal: Fundamental... What for and how itself...

... Who the hell is this man?

As... I finished that last sentence, my head was full. I knew what came next, and dreaded it... Cardinal is also a mathematical term, having to do with Set Theory and Algebra. This made sense. Later in Nick's narrative, his syntax becomes ever tighter, brutal and mind numbingly succinct. It becomes mathematical, even algebraic, relentlessly involving the reader in a combining cognition that itself becomes an experience of complicated spiritual mysteries.

Then there was the term Cardinal as a prime number. In its lowest common denomination expression of Aleph Zero or Alpha Naught, it is comprised of the Hebraic letter Aleph, which in the Tarot is assigned to the Magician Card. And the concept of Zero or Naught, which is the Old English origin of Not, which is Nick, which when you look into it, explains their relationship. The Cardinal being Alpha Naught as a prime indivisible positivity to Nick's Not being a conductive pole neither negative nor positive but simultaneously static and dynamically charged... Yes, my head was full. And yes, I was in over my head... Indeed, I was dying over it.

For three brutal years I had been involved... Transcribing Nick's narrative, crafting the Preface, Introduction and Afterward. I had researched, sweated and suffered through the Chapter Notes. I was worse than spent. I was consumed... There was not much left of me.

I powered down my old G4 Powerbook... It was 3:33am.

There was a knock upon the window panes of my front door.

In retrospect, it was not so loud. But it was for me. As though I were the glass being knocked upon, rattled within my window panes. I was startled, to say the least. I stumbled to my ass from beside my sainted grandmother's prayer chair, beside which I had crouched to stow my laptop away yet again, until my next wee hours session of writing hell. I struggled to my feet... Compelled... I went to the door.

I peered through the curtains. There he stood. At the end of the crappy concrete walkway leading from the door of my rented redwood framed California bungalow to the crime ridden sidewalk of my ever declining barrio... Being naturally reckless... I opened the door.

To say he stood there is perhaps a bit misleading. Though he stood there alright. Wearing a two button white linen jacket with white linen jodhpurs and tan leather knee high field boots. He wore a white shirt with a red tie... And he was wearing a Red Fez... But his face was entirely black.

To say he had a face is entirely misleading. Where his face should have been, there was not. There was nothing but black. Where eyes should have been, were eyes you could not see. But they could see you. Through you. You knew they could see you. And that they were black. Burning like coal. Smoldering coal. Each seethed fire with a might of diamonds newly borne. Freshly compressed to the core of their sockets from which they burned with the power to see through a black hole of time itself... All the way to another world.

Since the end of the walkway where he stood is five yards from the front door, he handed me an envelope from right where he stood. No hallucinatory stretching arm crap. He simply handed it over to me.

"You..." I held the envelope in my left hand, pointed with my right and had almost thought of asking him if he was the Cardinal when he wagged his head and nodded at the same time. An impossible gesture. Difficult to describe. Unforgettable once seen... Like being beaten about the head while bounced by the shoulders at the same time.

So... I opened the envelope.

Inside was a fine linen note card. The note was written in blood red ink(?) With an effortless, legible Edwardian style. It read...

"Get on with It. Rapidly!"

I looked down the walkway. It still stood there. But now it held a worn looking faded blue folio loosely tied with a gold ribbon. Its unfathomable blackness of a face seemed to sarcastically smile at my confusion as a phantom arm waved the worn folio like a promise of doom. Each wave knocked me like a tide... I looked to the note.

The word "Rapidly!" was on fire... Bloody fire.

I looked up. The thing with the Fez was gone. I looked down. The note was bloody fire in my hand. I dropped it. Then it was gone as well. Thank God! For now, at least, that faded folio had not taken its place on my doorstep.

What I feared in the Chapter Notes for Chapter H had come to pass.

The Cardinal's strange book had arrived at my doorstep.

And it would be back...

"Rapidly!"

What's a guy to do? I curse the day this crap came into my life!

Bardo: Tibetan Buddhist Doctrine. Regarding states of transition from life to death. And according to Tibetan Buddhists, we are always dying. Conception to birth. Birth to death. Dreaming. In meditation and concentration. First stage of death. Second stage of Death. So on and so on. A little referred to Bardo occurs when fellow Monks gather around their dying brother and do everything they can to keep him awake while he's dying. Which, in a way, is what the Cardinal is doing to Nick when he shows him the...

Akashic Chronicles: From Akasha, the Sanskrit word for ether. This "chronicle" is an astrally inscribed formative force record of all events, both outer and inner, that have occurred in the course of humanity's evolution. These, of course, include those of ancient Egypt where the Cardinal introduces...

Lucifer: Or the Devil. As the Cardinal points out, in the Bible he is referred to as both. And it is interesting to note that Nick italicized all pronouns in reference to both Lucifer and...

Satan: Just satan... Always referred to in the Bible as satan.

Here... The Cardinal introduces the major theme usually lacking in tales of good and evil. As he will state later on, there are two evils, not one... Lucifer stands for the evil of selfindulgence, detectable through its symptoms of hinderances... Satan stands for the evil of unscrupulousness, detectable through its symptoms of sickness and death.

That... The Cardinal introduces Lucifer in ancient Egypt has to do with another major mystery of good and evil. As he shows, Lucifer incarnated roughly two thousand years before The Christ to spread his evil of Ignorant Acceptance of Truth Unattained just as satan incarnates roughly two thousand years after The Christ to spread its evil of Material Domination in Denial of Spirit.

The Christ: Of course... Incarnated between them to spread God's blessing of Freedom and Love. HE also, as the Cardinal points out, incarnated to initiate humanity of the individuality by which they could choose between good and evil. And it is interesting to note that Nick always capitalizes Good in this context... But not evil.

However... The Cardinal does not stop there in his discussion of The Christ. He goes so far as to describe Who The Christ Is. According to the Cardinal, The Christ is God's regent of the Sun. And in this, Nick allows the Cardinal to give himself away as a master of, amongst other things...

Rosicrucianism: Rudolph Steiner once delivered a lecture series he entitled Theosophy According to the Rosicrucian Method in which he outlines the major tenants of Rosicrucian wisdom with emphasis on its practical application to everyday life. As of my writing, this series is available under the title: Theosophy of the Rosicrucian. If you studied these lectures in conjunction with Steiner's Five Founding Anthroposophical works in an attempt to define good and evil in a practical manner applicable to everyday life, the result would be the conclusions Nick boldly ascribes to the Cardinal in Chapter Q. It bears noting that Nick wrote the Cardinal's Chapter Q conclusions in bold. It is the only such instance in his entire narrative... Well, almost... But that's Chapter Z... And this is Chapter Q...

Rub of Evil: As concluded by the Cardinal in the case of Lucifer:

"There indeed is Rub of Evil. What is Right in its Place Chooses to act disguised in Place where it does not belong. In Lucifer's case, then as now, it is in matter of Time. Literally."

And as he concludes in the instance of satan:

"There again is Rub of Evil. What is Right in its place Chooses for act disguised in place where it does not belong. In Satan's instance it is in matter of Form. Literally."

As with all of the Cardinal's conclusions:

Much is implied between the lines... For instance...

The word instance itself. Which can be traced to medieval Latin: instancia 'example to the contrary' By which the Cardinal, in what seems to be a repetitive conclusion, actually implies that we are dealing with two evils, not one.

But the point here is... Rub of Evil, being the axiom of something right in its place choosing to act in disguise in a place where it does not belong, is a practical axiom to apply in defining good as opposed to evil in the course of everyday life.

Speaking of defining good opposed to evil in everyday life...

It would appear the two evils conspire, in the vast majority of literary and cinematic treatments that struggle to deal with the subject of good opposing evil, to conceal their individual natures from being truly recognized. I mean... Lucifer is a selfindulgent being, hindering us until we ignorantly accept truth unattained and thus become his softened meat puppet pawns. While satan is an unscrupulous being, sickening us to death until we become material dominated and thus its hardened stick puppet spirit denying hacks.

Despite this, in literature and cinema extant, Lucifer's portrayed as unscrupulous, hard, dominating you to deny God. While satan's a preening hack, seducing you to accept his line of crap. At best, a writer who has obviously suffered the fates of evil may at least portray, to chilling effect I might add, a truly twisted character who personifies the corrupting nature of both evils in his hideous black heart. And all this obfuscatory characterization despite the Biblical example of...

Golgotha: Site of the crucifixion of Jesus. From late Latin, via Greek from an Aramaic form of Hebrew gulgoleth 'skull'. The mount of skulls. Roman site in Jerusalem for crucifixion of criminals. Where The Christ was sacrificed on the cross in the human flesh of Jesus of Nazareth.

Golgotha looms large throughout Nick's narrative. As it obviously looms throughout Nick's life, death, and beyond... Let's start by relating it to the Rub of Evil. As the Cardinal states...

"And Golgotha was Right Time for our Beginning. And for more which was Beginning. Yet Golgotha was Right Place where nothing had been disguised. Thus all in Right Time took Place Right before all upon Golgotha,"

In a single paragraph, The Cardinal summarizes the main thrust of Steiner's Founding Anthroposophical work: Christianity as Mystical Fact... The more one examines his statements and conclusions, the more one comes to realize the Cardinal as the soul of succinctness itself... Compared to the Cardinal, Nick is a total chatterbox.

What the Cardinal alludes to in the concluding paragraph above and in his statements leading to it, is that the Individual Spirit had yet to be fully incorporated into the astral, formative force and physical bodies of our ancestors. And how prior to an inclusion of the fully incorporated Individual Spirit, our ancestors were not fully Human Beings. Basically... Our ancestors were meat puppets.

Ever wonder how the pyramids were constructed? No... They were not built by space aliens with their space ships, nor assembled by the harmonic chanting of an enlightened people magically floating the massive stones into place. I mean... Really!

Get over it! The pyramids were constructed by brutal forced labor. Miles of earthen ramparts, enormous cedar logs as wheels, massive stones rolled across miles into place, lots of blood and countless crushed and broken meat puppets.

Impossible! you might say. It's impossible to compel the labor of the requisite mass of individuals necessary to construct such an epic tomb just for the sake of one Pharaoh, let alone complete the impossibly huge thing in the course of that Pharaoh's lifetime, no matter how much free beer you provide!

But that's the whole point... Our ancestors were not individuated.

I apologize... If I've crushed any romantic notions you may have had about our ancestors, or ancient Egypt. But our ancestors were not individuals. They were a tribal oriented, blood line connected mass of meat puppets, regionally associated grist for the mill and cannon fodder for the rare individuals of the time who controlled them.

And what about those rare individuals of that time...

Ever wonder what the Sphinx was for? How it was used?

Basically... The Sphinx was a massive initiation chamber for the mass initiation of initiates, otherwise known as the high priests of Egypt, the rare individuals of that time, who had survived the Sphinx initiation to attain possession of their Individual Spirit.

The candidates were first taken into the Sphinx to separate them from the tumultuous phychic atmosphere of being with their fellow meat puppets. Step by step, they were separated from the pack, a harrowing trial for a herd inclined meat puppet. This was a test to gauge wether they could withstand even this first step towards individuation... If the candidate passed, they were taken deeper beneath the Sphinx, where they were prepared for the next stage of initiation. Which consisted of exposure to and instruction in the Secret Images to Live Remembered. This was done under the guidance of an initiated high priest... The images used in this stage of initiation survive to this day in the 22 Major Arcana Cards of the Tarot... If, after months of exposure and instruction, the guiding priest deemed the candidate insufficient, he would be killed... If the candidate was deemed sufficient, the initiation would continue deeper beneath the Sphinx, where the candidate would be fasted and cleansed to a state of rarified purity prior to being chanted then completely shaved and finally starved of all sensory nourishment until months later the candidate was on the verge of death... Then deepest beneath the bowels of the Sphinx, in a chamber we have yet to discover to this day, the candidate would be laid out flat and almost dead on a slab. There, surrounded by elite high priests and observed by the Grand Hierophant himself, the candidate would die. But he would not be dead. The high priests would sustain the life of his physical body, as the Grand Hierophant himself guided the candidate's formative force and astral bodies in a spiral though the cosmos, where they could confirm and witness the truth of the secrets remembered as living images, until at the farthest reaches of their spiral towards death, the candidate would encounter and grasp for himself the greatest secret of that time: His Individual Spirit... At that very moment, the Grand Hierophant would recall the initiate to life. For in possessing his Individual Spirit, the candidate was no longer a meat puppet... He was now an initiate.

So basically... It was a racket, though necessary for a time. But as with all rackets, was doomed to outlive its time. And in time, the secret institutions of ritualistic initiation were to develop the Rub of Evil. As the initiation of the Individual Spirit spread beyond the control of all high priesthoods.

Ever wonder how, around 400BC, modern thought suddenly appears out of nowhere with such force as to continue similarly as it appeared up to our present time? Oh... Come on! Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, all were initiates... And don't think they didn't piss off lots of high priests with their revelations of individuating philosophies.

Speaking of pissing off priests, how pissed off do you think those pharisees were when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead? Because Lazarus was dead alright. He had suffered the death of a botched ritualistic initiation undergone in the outskirts of Jerusalem. He was dead meat with his other bodies gone for the cosmos...

But that's what really pissed the pharisees off. Jesus of Nazareth was breaking up their little racket. Little did their tiny little ossified souls realize that their God had sent The Christ by way of Nazareth... So they unwittingly did God's bidding by setting up Jesus to die on the cross... God always has the last laugh... It was on Golgotha, through Jesus of Nazareth, right out in the open for all to see, that The Christ ended the racket once and for all by initiating us all of HIS Individual Spirit... Right out in the open for all to see! Ha! Ha! Ha! Those stupid, Roman ass kissing, pharisees...

Which brings us back to the two evils on Golgotha...

So... There's Jesus, atop Golgotha, nailed to the cross, about to culminate The Christ's sacrifice and everyone's watching. Jesus is busy. Suddenly, as if he doesn't have enough going on, Jesus finds himself stuck between the two thieves who, though not full blown incarnations, happen to be the two meat and stick puppet proxies of, respectively, Lucifer and satan.

Lucifer's meat puppet proxy relents before The Christ's sacrifice, which bodes well for Lucifer, and consequently for the King later on in Chapter Z. However, satan's stick puppet proxy not only does not relent before The Christ, but basically tells The Christ to go fuck HIMSELF... Like some recalcitrant, teenage hack-faced brat to an ever sacrificing parent... This does not bode well for the Mark in Chapter Z. Consequently neither does it for satan who, later on in the battle in Heaven, is going to get its ass kicked by...

Mich-a-el: As in: St. Mich-a-el. The Archangel. So much More than that... Mich-a-el is The Countenance of The Christ. The Chief of the Archangels. The best friend of The Christ. One just does not screw around with Mich-a-el. The Cardinal and Nick always refer to Mich-a-el by his proper name of Mich-a-el... Never as Michael... I'm with them on that... We refer to the other Archangels by their proper names with an -el on the end. Gabriel is always referred to as Gabri-el. Show some re-spect for God's sake! I mean, after all, Mich-a-el did kick satan's ass out of Heaven and sent it to earth as the...

Dragon who Hated The Christ: An appropriate name for satan, when you consider the Cardinal's conclusion that satan is.... "a Being proper of enduring realm of Form Choosing to act improperly within Form not enduring..." And that a dragon is a being synthetically composed of forms, proper in their right place, but improper when synthetically composed together.

But what's with Mich-a-el's banishing of satan, together with its hack following of hosts, from the realm of Heaven to our realm of earth? Well... A couple of things spring to mind... The first has to do with how excruciatingly painful it is for satan and its hack hosts to exist with us in our realm of earth. The second has to do with the other part of the Cardinal's conclusion that... "Its symptoms are unscrupulousness casting shadows Sickness and Death..." And this has to do with Mich-a-el having faith... Unlike (albeit with justification) the other Archangels... In our ability as Human Beings to band together and kick satan's and its host's hack-asses ourselves. I mean, it's one thing, an individual thing, to battle our own selfindulgence and the resulting hindrances that occur in our lives. But it's another thing, a band together kind of thing entirely, to battle unscrupulousness, sickness and death.

If Mich-a-el has faith in our ability to do this... We should step up to the plate and kick some satanic ass... Nick has much to say about this in Chapter for... Which brings us back to Golgotha...

White Cowl Humans: The Gospels mention of how, on occasion, Jesus was taken from the crowd, and even from his disciples, to a place apart where his physical body would receive special attention. And no wonder. The Christ's incarnation must have wrecked untold havoc on the physical body of Jesus. What the Gospels fail to mention is the identity of those who took Jesus from the crowd. And no wonder there either. For those who wrote the Gospels, it would be obvious that those who attended to Jesus could be none other than the...

Essenes: The men and women in white. The healers of ancient Egypt. The keepers of secrets and of the names of Angels. The rescuers of those in the clutches of Luciferic hindrances. The curers of those in the throes of satanic sickness. The masters of life and death. The apotheosis of devotion and scrupulousness... The vertex of all spiritual orders... In short... Jesus' people.

At the time of Golgotha, there were thousands of Essenes living in what is now known as the Holy Land, both in individually ordered spiritual communities and amongst the populace. Their predominate sect were known as Nazarenes, and they lived centered in the city of Nazareth, named after their dominant presence there. According to a contemporary historian of that time, Essenes had existed for thousands of generations. Indeed, the oldest gate of Jerusalem was known as the Essene door... The Essenes were a special people...

They believed in and practiced communal property and equal rights between men and women. They cherished freedom and did not keep slaves. Such ideals, when truly practiced, are ahead of their time today. Essenes not only believed them, but had practiced them for thousands of generations. The Essenes were indeed a special order of people...

And as with all special people, the Essenes incurred the envy and hatred of others. It did not help matters at all that the Essene library contained scrupulously maintained copies of all founding documents of all other spiritual orders, nor that the Essenes did not hesitate to expose the current leadership of those orders for any discrepancy they attempted to foist upon their followings.

But, essentially, the Essenes existed thousands of generations for one end and one end alone... Golgotha. To that end they tracked The Christ's approach from the Sun as they attended the line of David to assure the prophesied incarnation body. The Christ child was delivered into their care. They raised the Jesus and prepared him for The Christ sacrifice. When the time arrived, they attended to Jesus that he could endure The Christ's incarnation and after the Golgotha sacrifice, they completed the job...

They took the physical body of Jesus and treated it with a special preparation then rolled it into the earth, just like the Cardinal described... Thus they rejoiced as the resurrection body strolled the earth like a formative force phantom on its way to being woven into the homeopathically transforming dust of the earth, also just like the Cardinal described... Still, the Essenes were yet to be finished... As... The Romans, with the pharisees, were not so much hunting down and killing off Christians... They were hunting down and killing off Essenes... But... I mean...

Come on! Any people capable of attending to and preparing for The Christ's incarnation for some thousands of generations are more than capable of eluding capture by a bunch of selfindulgent Romans and unscrupulous pharisees for a few generations more. The Essenes indulged their captors, scrupulously refrained from mocking their pharisee antagonists, as they willingly sacrificed their blood and formative force bodies in support of The Christ's sacrifice... Ha! Ha! Ha! Again... Those stupid, Roman ass kissing, pharisees...

So... The Essenes were special and the Cardinal refers to them as special just as Nick refers to them as "White Cowl Humans" who are special and he refers to his own people and their ways as being special... Which I suppose just goes to show what can happen to a special people and how pissed off they can get after two thousand special some odd years of being especially fucked around with.

Vista of Human Destiny: Vantage point above the Akashic Chronicle from which one can witness not only all the cosmic and human events, both outer and inner, that lead humanity to the present, but also from which one can witness all the cosmic and human events, both outer and inner, that shall result from the present state of humanity... And it is from this high vantage point that the Cardinal poses Nick...

The Question: Essentially, a summation of all the statements Nick boldly ascribes to his mentor, in which the Cardinal distills the two evils to their highest common denominator: Being that despite their dual nature... The two evils are both... Essentially...

Antichrist: And with this I fell in love with whoever this man the Cardinal is... No silly, ridiculous hoo-hah about The Antichrist here... Just a crushingly succinct series of statements concluding what antichrist stands for, and how that which is antichrist fucks with our lives from day to day... But in the face of all this, the Cardinal offers Nick, and through Nick he offers us...

The Choice: Which is... To Fight... To the Death... And Beyond...

Later... Nick has much to say regarding these subjects, especially regarding The Choice in Chapter Y and especially in Chapter for... What bears noting here is how familiarly, even eagerly, Nick knew that he was being posed The Question and given The Choice... Which leads me to conclude that more shall be revealed for me when that thing wearing that Fez returns to drop off that faded folio on my doorstep...

Finally... The Cardinal mockingly returns Nick to the world of the living... Proving once and for all that he is not a Cardinal of an Essene order...

And with all that out of the way... Perhaps...

I can now get on with the rest of it... Rapidly!

R

R for Return: Wherein Nick returns to the land of the living.

Scarab: Large dung beetle. Regarded as sacred in ancient Egyptian.

Root: I have no idea what kind of root this may be.

Nick's Rosary: A Rosary is a necklace of beads with a short line of beads extending from the bottom and terminating in a Crucifix wherein each bead represents a particular prayer to be recited and meditated upon... One usually starts upon the Crucifix with the recitation of a particular prayer, proceeds up the short line to an Our Father, then up three more Hail Mary beads to the next Our Father, then on to around the necklace itself proceeding through a series of nine Hail Marys which lead to one Our Father whereupon one then recites a Glory Be. This series of eleven prayers is known as a Decade. Obviously, Nick's people do not pray the Rosary in this manner. And though a Rosary may consist of different sized beads that indicate when to pray a Hail Mary (smaller beads) or an Our Father (larger beads), this is not always the case. So how, in Chapter L, did the Patriarch recognize Nick's Rosary as special? The clue to this may lie Nick never referring to the termination of his Rosary as a Crucifix. He always refers to it as Golgotha... If one recalls Nick's experience in Chapter Q and his subsequent comments in Chapter Y, it is not a big leap of faith to speculate that Nick's Rosary terminates in a skull.

S

S for Save: Wherein Nick saves the Kid.

T

T for Trouble: Wherein there is trouble. But mostly for the King.

No38: ... Is an eleven (3+8) As is No47 (4+7) And No11 as well. It would appear as though The Onyx Spark Job is an eleven job. Just as The Felmont Job can be seen as a ten job with No37 being blown to take Felmont as No73... Yet The Onyx Spark Job also included No22... Perhaps the inclusion of the other master number with so many elevens leant a special importance to Nick's narrative that compelled him to release it to an unsuspecting public. This still leaves a question regarding the Nos. Does it refer to Number as in Number 38? To Not as in Not 38? Or to Know as in Know 38? Knowing Nick, the answer is likely quite involved... Speaking of things involving the number eleven...

Shortboy38: Colt Firearms issued the Model 1911 in many calibers, including 38. And it would not be unusual for the custom division of Colt to specially produce a goldplated, mother of pearl handled pistol for the especially selfindulgent customer willing to pay...

Kalashnikov Assault Rifle: Also known as the AK47. Considered the first true assault rifle. Developed by Mikhail Kalashnikov for the Soviets in 1947. Variants still in use today, wherever evil lurks.

Cathar: Considered an heretical Christian sect, as they professed egalitarianism and personal purity, not unlike the Essenes. Some consider the Cathar sect to be the spiritual descendants of the previously scattered Essenes.

U

U for Unleashed: Wherein Anna unleashes Kitty.

Geared Engine: A custom built automobile engine, that is balanced and blueprinted, wherein all the usual belts and chains are replaced by direct drive gears.

Barry White: (1944-2003) AKA the Sultan of Smooth Soul. American composer, singer and record producer. Raised in South Central Los Angeles, Barry was imprisoned at the tender age of 17 for stealing $30,000 (that's 1961 dollars, folks) worth of Cadillac automobile tires. While serving time, his life was changed by Elvis Presley, AKA the King of Rock & Roll, singing It's Now or Never. Barry would go on to deliver a command performance of You're the First, The Last, My Everything for the Pope at the Vatican's millennium new year's eve celebration in St. Peter's Square.

V

V for Victorious: Wherein the Kid emerges Victorious.

The Secret: Again, Nick succinctly explains a soul function of The Secret, avoiding any formative force explanation of The Secret's power...

Old School Hand Massager: Big vibrating electric motor strapped to the back of the hand. Typically used by old school barbers, not hair stylists, at the end of a hair cut to relax the shoulders of the client and send them out the door feeling happy and cared for.

Mouni Sadhu: (1897-1971) Nom de plume of noted Polish occultist, Mieczyslaw Demetriusz Sudowski, who was mentioned in the Chapter Notes for Chapter I, in conjunction with the Return Blow... And what's he mentioned here for? In his book on the Tarot, Sadhu tells of an incident wherein he and a fellow occultist discovered, quite by accident, that by placing a hand massager upon a certain part of the skull, one could spontaneously bring on a state of clairvoyance... Sadhu also tells of how they swore then and there to never reveal... The Secret...

Ronald Colman: (1891-1958) Distinguished English born film actor, writer, painter and Hollywood spy for Winston Churchill during the Second World War. Born to a London silk merchant and his Scottish bride, the young Ronald Colman would dream of becoming an engineer by way of Cambridge. The death of his father in 1906 would put an end to Colman's Cambridge dreams. Doing his part to make ends meet after his father's death, Colman would toil for years, first as a clerk, and later as a junior accountant for the London Steamship Company. Somehow, during the next eight years, Colman would find the time and resources to get a London University degree in fine art with an emphasis in oil painting, engage enthusiastically in amateur theatrics and enlist in the London Scottish Regionals army reserve unit. The outbreak of the First World War would result in Colman's unit being amongst the first of British troops to see the front line. In the October 31st battle of Messines, the London Scottish would not receive the order to retreat, and soon discover themselves surrounded by the bulk of the German attack. It was a disaster, despite the bravery of the London Scottish. Colman would sustain crippling shrapnel damage to his knee, somehow making it back to his lines by dragging himself on his back with his elbows so as not to catch a final bullet with his back to the enemy. The damage was bad enough to invalid Colman out of action. In his 1938 movie, If I were King, one gets to see Colman's rather disturbing performance of a man surviving hand to hand combat done by a man who has killed in battle to survive. On Colman's return to London after being invalided from the war, there was not much work to be had, except in the theater, where there was a serious shortage of young men. Colman would have some success on the stage, horrible experiences in early English silent films and eventually head to New York where he would almost starve to death, almost freeze to death after his overcoat was stolen from the flea bitten room he rented and finally achieve steady employment in a couple of plays before being discovered by Lillian Gish as her next leading man for her 1923 production of The White Sister. Colman would go on to become a major silent film star, then go on to become an even bigger star with the advent of talking film, due in part to the fact that his voice matched his screen image. Indeed, his voice, matched to his image, made Colman look even better on screen. However, in addition to that, Colman almost single handedly wrote the book on out how to act for talking film. During the golden age of the Hollywood Studio System, screen acting coaches typically assigned Ronald Colman films as homework to instruct the aspiring stars on how to act on film. Colman would remain a major Hollywood star till the day he died... But what about the spy stuff? Winston Churchill contacted Colman, who was leader of the English Raj in Hollywood, to enlist his efforts to insure that all things English be portrayed positively in American films... Ever notice how in war time Hollywood films there's often a strange cameo by a cute little English Bulldog that's inevitably called Winston? It was Colman's way of informing Churchill that he was keeping his word. Colman's war time efforts went far beyond weird dog cameos... In addition to tirelessly supporting the war effort, Colman kept the Raj in line, making sure that they all, in the glowing eyes of the public at least, portrayed all things English in a positive light. Later on, during the sordid Black List era of McCarthyism, Colman could say whatever the fuck he pleased and never be called into question by the government... Colman was best known for his uncanny technical ability to portray a double role character, and would receive an Academy Award for his role of Anthony John in the 1947 production of A Double Life...

W

W for War: Wherein Nick is pissed off to discover his Base at war.

Blood is a Special Fluid: It would almost appear as though Nick has digressed from the course of his narrative with the sole purpose of explaining a line from Goethe's Faust. This is similar but different from Chapter for, where Nick assumes, with unabashed gall, to answer Shakespeare's Hamlet.

X

X for X-Ray: Wherein Nick has difficulties with his X-Ray eyes.

Chinese: Belonging to or relating to people forming the dominant ethnic group of China, widely dispersed elsewhere... Black: Of the darkest color. Opposite of white. Colored like coal. Absence of light or complete absorption thereof... Magic: Power to influence events using mysterious, supernatural force. See: John Carpenter's 1986 film... Big Trouble in Little China.

Chiang Kai Shek: (1887-1975) Last leader of Mainland Nationalist China. Considered by some to be a hero, but by others to be the cowardly traitor who lost his nerve by failing to fight to the death before allowing Mao and the Communists to assume control over Mainland China.

Bound Feet: Barbaric Chinese practice of breaking a woman's feet at an early age and forcing them to wear tortuously tiny shoes in order to restrict their freedom and emphasize their inferiority to men... No wonder Nick can't remember the Landlord's Wife smiling.

Y

Y for... Wherein Nick gets as close as he can to telling you why.

Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition: Higher astral functions belonging to the Individual Spirit, which consequently constitute a clairvoyance appropriate to our time. Further details regarding contemporarily appropriate clairvoyance can be found in Steiner's Founding Anthroposophical work: How to Know Higher Worlds.

666: Nick and the Cardinal summarily dismiss the notion of there being one Antichrist. Even satan's imminent incarnation is treated as if it were just another day at the office. Instead, they choose to focus on what is antichrist for humanity and how to deal with it in everyday life. Here, Nick summarily disposes of the usually creepy topic of 666, dismissing its relevance to centuries past.

Z

Z for Zero: Wherein Nick zeros accounts for the King and the Mark.

Concentrate: To focus attention or mental effort on a particular point. To gather together in mass to one point. To increase in strength by selective accumulation to one point. The ability to concentrate is known as...

Concentration: The action or power of focusing attention or mental effort to deal with one particular thing above all others in order to gathering together and strengthen by selective accumulation...

The ability to concentrate is the only clue Nick offers the reader on the subject of how to wield The Secret. Which is not much of a clue at all... Nick mentions concentration in earlier sections of his narrative, mostly in conjunction with the subjects of doll construction and investigation... But in Chapter Z Nick avoids the point of describing exactly how one wields The Secret by vaguely mentioning that he concentrates as he furrows his brow and hums from his skull. Which is, in all, rather vaguely Golgotha-esque...

For further information regarding concentration, I would point the interested reader's attention to the following: Concentration by Mouni Sadhu, How to Know Higher Worlds by Rudolph Steiner and to the collection of excerpts from Steiner's lectures and writings entitled Guidance in Esoteric Training. But these works are rather advanced... To begin with, I would point the reader's attention to the work entitled Raja Yoga written by...

William Walker Atkinson: (1862-1932) Noted American Occultist, author, editor and publisher. Atkinson wrote Raja Yoga under the pseudonym of Yogi Ramacharaka, which was but one of his many nom de plumes. I would strongly urge any interested readers to master the contents of Atkinson's Raja Yoga prior to attempting the more advanced works mentioned above. In addition to being an excellent primer on the topic of concentration, much light will be shed, for the curious, on how Nick employs his thinking, feeling and willing during the course of his jobs.

No22: It is interesting to note that Nick consistently capitalizes the word Corpse in reference to the physical body while it's still alive and omits capitalization in reference to it in death. Which shed an eerily grim light on the fate of No22...

S'mores: A popular campfire dessert made by sandwiching melted chocolate and toasted marshmallows between two delicious graham crackers.

what

... Hardboiled Tale.

for

... Spiritual Misadventure.

and how

... Not Written Occult.

Yes... Nick cuts those taken to resemble himself prior to bringing them into the light and starting them upon the task of redemption.

Steiner's Sculpture: A centerpiece of the first Goetheaneum was to be Steiner's sculpture entitled The Group, depicting The Christ's return in the etheric in relation to Lucifer and satan. According to those who knew him at the time, Steiner offhandedly mentioned how he had compelled Lucifer and satan to sit as models in order to provide a future Humanity with an accurate representation. The feel-good-two-shoes-atmosphere of Anthroposophy today forgets that Rudolph Steiner was one bad ass magician. When proto-nazis torched the first Goetheaneum, the sculpture survived the fire unharmed in Steiner's studio. Just as Nick says, it still exists in the second Goetheaneum... Being the true servant of his master, Steiner had sculpted The Christ from memory...

Afterward

... Just a few more things prior to taking my leave of this work.

Just as the Cardinal, in earlier Chapter Notes, was said to be related to the Magician Card of the Tarot. So can Nick be related to the Fool Card of the Tarot, whose number is Zero. That Nick sees himself in this light is evident in his presenting Norma with a red bundle of Nick Turner props in the form of a stick thrown over her shoulder...

Speaking of fools...

Despite his going on and on about the nature of query, Nick never bothers to capitalize what for and how unless it's at the start of a sentence...

... And now that my work here is done.

I urge you too Fight... To the Death... And Beyond!

Eric Maldonado

November 11, 2009

Santa Barbara, California

3:33am
