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Stalking Vol 2: The Bridge of Reason


those who had. The cycle was complete. Nothing was wasted. The free-will design of our
inevitable recovery stunned me with its immaculate efficiency.
In this peculiar moment of… pending, I knew that I was ignorant beyond expression, and
yet I felt wise because my view embraced the duality of a reasonable man losing his mind to a
pure understanding: a piercing humility washed through me... I was seeing what emissaries
simply know as root assumptions about mankind’s every condition, attribute, and foible. There
were no words to express the awesome scope of instantaneous perception and comprehension
available within the cognition of the Stalker. It is the view of Spirit looking upon us, from among
us. With little more than a few words, or an ultra-comprehensive glance, they will know the sons
and daughters of affluence and poverty, and see which became generous and which miserly. The
wizened cautious will not stand out as much as the idiotically certain, but the merchants of death
and mega- manufacturers of treachery will easily be seen slithering through the public’s trust.
They will recognize the manipulators of commerce trading on empty promises at artificial
premiums, by the steel and glass high-chairs from which they complacently gaze down upon
their prey.
Our violations of other species will be an unspeakable torment to them, and now to me, as I
claimed as my own knowledge how mankind had reasoned idiocy into a way of life. We were
barely touching the trailing edge of rationality. We were functionally insa ne.
Triggered into action, my ever-vigilant ego searched for a personal exemption, and the
accumulated fears I had just so intimately identified manufactured a vague anomaly in my
journey: Bonnie’s personality was a necessary ruse, but not because her story was too fantastic to
be embraced by a rational person. In reality, she was manipulating my crappy assumptions to
align me to the catalytic momentum of a Universal intervention—an unthinking force that did
precisely what it was told, according to the nature of acts I had barely begun to grasp.
More than this, I knew that Phillip could not intervene, complacency was not possible, and I
could not subvert or pervert the space I shared with everyone and everything, because the unseen
hand that guided me knew all there was to know about me.
A bolt of terror seized my chest. I knew what she was up to…
The elastics of my conditioned life accelerated me away from a future of cowering in the
presence of a teaching emissary, lest she impeccably decide that I was no longer the hunter of
knowledge, but its prey. There was no reason why she couldn’t relearn How to Teach to the
point of taking my life, while making her ready to teach the real emissaries. She had said as
much—three times. In her terms, this would be an impeccably impressive evolutionary lesson
about me learning how to learn. I was expendable, still and again.
As the most lucid moment of my life became fixed in an elite position of awareness, my
Assemblage Point returned me to the fog of a cumbersome world with my seeing experience
intact, but only the tailings of my fear-fuelled realization lingered; my focus on "self" had
sabotaged the bridge back to reason.
At a complete loss for what to do, I tittered as if from embarrassment at my recent
utterance… whenever that was.
Bonnie continued to gaze placidly across the water.
"This journey of m- mine," I cleared my throat, "it was designed so that I would be the last
person on the face of the earth to believe you, and then that I’d have no choice, wasn’t it?"
"Not quite the last person." She turned to face me. "You do understand that it could be no
other way?"
"I do now."
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