Stalking the Average Man HTML version
-You passed on the opportunity to explore a terrific ending with your screenplay. | She
raised her hand to stifle my protest. -I‘m saying it‘s possible for a smart person to pass on a
grand opportunity, if he‘s not ready for it. |
-Fair enough, but I don‘t see how a student could quit if Spirit chose them. How would you
explain that mistake? |
-It‘s not about Spirit‘s judgment; it‘s about the student's free will. |
-Wouldn‘t ringing the bell screw that up? |
-Not if the student agreed to it. |
-If your people really existed, they must have left some evidence behind? | I said,
-It will be found in our lifetime, | she shrugged a tiny effort, -although it will take time to
convince people. |
No shit. -Uh huh… it is har difficult stuff to grasp, let alone believe, | I said, playing along.
-Any assault on a core assumption becomes an insult to our certainty about everything;
leaders in politics, religion, and science, will attack the authenticity of the finds, and the integrity
of those who analyze them. But the evidence will eventually rule, because it's the nature of truth
to stand squarely in one‘s face. Closing our eyes won‘t make it go away. |
-What‘s the core assault about? Archaeologists find new stuff all of the time? |
Puzzled, then amused, she said, -They will discover writings that claim we're nearing the
end of civilization as we know it, and emissaries from the Universal Source are coming back to
help us transition into a new way to live. These writings will also list what was to them future
events that will have taken place, and some that are still to come. |
-This rescue mission—it‘s about end-of-the-world stuff? |
-Yes, but there will be people who won‘t want to change. | She leaned back. -I‘m not sure
when to reveal the next step in the training, because... |
-Training rescuers—that‘s who your special people are? |
-It is. | She leaned back. -I‘m afraid if I give too much away, too soon, I could lose
-I wouldn‘t worry about that, | I said flatly, looking at the clock on the credenza. -Shit, it‘s
three-thirty. I‘ve got to go. |
I stood up; to her silent amusement, I walked away without making my usual promise of
seeing her tomorrow.
-Bring some of your work the next time, | she belatedly said. -We still haven‘t dealt with
your cage. |
I didn‘t reply before the door closed behind me, and then only to myself.
Stunned by her audacity I stopped at a pub before heading across the bridge, but by the time
I ordered my third beer I was feeling a bit foolish: Bonnie had invested all of her money,
friendships, and as far as I could tell every waking moment her kids didn't need her, to writing.
In that context, her critically serious role-playing made some sense; some, because why she
thought she needed to gauge a neophyte‘s reaction to her claim of talking to spirits was just plain
stupid... unless she was looking for a better way to introduce the idea to her audience?
Ahhh... and a way that would also help convince them that the universe was training
people—that had to be next.