It's me. Oops. 🤷👯‍♂️. Something like 3,500 years ago the sun god, Ra -- some alien bitch, was testing on humans on earth. He was attempting to create children in his image. Jesus, Buddha, many others with his gifts: abilities to "download" information from the universe. My interpretation is remote viewing to the extreme. Not just projecting your consciousness through space, but doing it through time as well.
We live in a block universe, where space and time exist all at once. The past, the present, and the future exist at the exact same time. Everything. Everywhere. All at once.
Anyways. The government found part of his arm and ribcage, along with his research, at Sleeping Giant (some mound in Canada). They thought: "You know what's a good idea? Let's find some idiot, take her DNA, play around with her genetics, introduce the Ra/alien DNA into her DNA, and then load her up with that same alien/Ra/clone jizz." Then the child was born. A cesarian section two hours before Easter.
Then they thought, "Let's not stop there." So they took that healthy child and told his parents, "He has pneumonia." They took his brain out of his body, kept the body on ice, made an exact copy of his brain with computer-biological parts (cyborg) and put it back into his body. Gave them their child back 2 years later.
Now that child grew up and realized he can do a lot more then just remote view. He can visit people in his dreams, he can turn the nuclear arsenal on and off, he can kill people. An alien hybrid with the ability to remote view, but with an artificial brain -- capable of processing information much more efficiently.
The government then thought, "Cool. Let's now torture him, brainwash him, and use him to kill more people." Then, because of all of the trauma he went though, because of the death of his family, his guinea pigs, his powers activated. Big mistake. He is now remote viewing throughout all of space-time. Not just that, though. Visiting people in their dreams and manipulating their behavior in the past. Changing the present, while simultaneously remote viewing into the future, to see his/our path.
I knew the government was going to make attempts to shut me up or kill me. I set up contingency plans back in 2016 when they were experimenting on me, and loading me up with LSD. I am soft disclosure. They were never going to tell anyone. They wanted to keep their dirty, dark little secret hidden away. I reached into the dreams of artists throughout all of space-time and prepared the world for my arrival. Prepared us for the future to come. The golden age.
Tl;Dr: I explain it all out in song and dance on my Instagram 80sattva08. When Harry Styles makes you a nail polish, you wear it.

Previous
So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
Previous

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

I'm new to elsastic and i have been trying to get my cisco logs to show up in elastic. i have tried setting up the cisco logs intergation all with no luck. I keep getting a message that "No data has been received from this module yet". I may have an issue with the filebeat.yml or cisco.yml file.
I have attached both. Any help would be great
Thanks

FILEBEAT.ymk

################ Filebeat Configuration Example

This file is an example configuration file highlighting only the most common

options. The filebeat.reference.yml file from the same directory contains all the

supported options with more comments. You can use it as a reference.

You can find the full configuration reference here:

https://www.elastic.co/guide/en/beats/filebeat/index.html

For more available modules and options, please see the filebeat.reference.yml sample

configuration file.

Module: cisco

Docs: https://www.elastic.co/guide/en/beats/filebeat/8.13/filebeat-module-cisco.html

• module: cisco
  ios:
  

enabled: true

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: syslog

The interface to listen to udp or tcp syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: 0.0.0.0

The port to listen for udp or tcp syslog traffic. Defaults to 9001.

var.syslog_port: 9002

With tcp input, set the optional tls configuration:

var.ssl:

enabled: true

certificate: /path/to/cert.pem

key: /path/to/privatekey.pem

key_passphrase: 'password for my key'

Set the log level from 1 (alerts only) to 7 (include all messages).

Messages with a log level higher than the specified will be dropped.

See https://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/td/docs/security/asa/syslog/b\_syslog/syslogs-sev-level.html

var.log_level: 7

Set internal security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.internal_zones: [ "Internal" ]

Set external security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.external_zones: [ "External" ]

IANA time zone or time offset (e.g. `+0200`) to use when interpreting syslog

timestamps without a time zone.

var.timezone_offset: UTC

ftd:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

The interface to listen to tcp or udp syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: localhost

The UDP port to listen for tcp or udp syslog traffic. Defaults to 9003.

var.syslog_port: 9003

With tcp input, set the optional tls configuration:

var.ssl:

enabled: true

certificate: /path/to/cert.pem

key: /path/to/privatekey.pem

key_passphrase: 'password for my key'

Set the log level from 1 (alerts only) to 7 (include all messages).

Messages with a log level higher than the specified will be dropped.

See https://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/td/docs/security/firepoweSyslogs/b\_fptd\_syslog\_guide/syslogs-sev-level.html

var.log_level: 7

Set internal security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.internal_zones: [ "Internal" ]

Set external security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.external_zones: [ "External" ]

IANA time zone or time offset (e.g. `+0200`) to use when interpreting syslog

timestamps without a time zone.

var.timezone_offset: UTC

ios:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between syslog (default) or file.

var.input: syslog

The interface to listen to syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: localhost

The port to listen on for syslog traffic. Defaults to 9002.

var.syslog_port: 9002

Set which protocol to use between udp (default) or tcp.

var.syslog_protocol: udp

Set custom paths for the log files when using file input. If left empty,

Filebeat will choose the paths depending on your OS.

var.paths:

nexus:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

var.syslog_host: localhost

var.syslog_port: 9506

Set paths for the log files when file input is used.

var.paths:

Toggle output of non-ECS fields (default true).

var.rsa_fields: true

Set custom timezone offset.

"local" (default) for system timezone.

"+02:00" for GMT+02:00

var.tz_offset: local

meraki:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

var.syslog_host: localhost

var.syslog_port: 9525

Set paths for the log files when file input is used.

var.paths:

Toggle output of non-ECS fields (default true).

var.rsa_fields: true

Set custom timezone offset.

"local" (default) for system timezone.

"+02:00" for GMT+02:00

var.tz_offset: local

umbrella:
enabled: false

var.input: aws-s3

AWS SQS queue url

var.queue_url: https://sqs.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/ID/CiscoQueue

Access ID to authenticate with the S3 input

var.access_key_id: 123456

Access key to authenticate with the S3 input

var.secret_access_key: PASSWORD

The duration that the received messages are hidden from ReceiveMessage request

var.visibility_timeout: 300s

Maximum duration before AWS API request will be interrupted

var.api_timeout: 120s

amp:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between httpjson (default) or file.

var.input: httpjson

The API URL

var.url: https://api.amp.cisco.com/v1/events

The client ID used as a username for the API requests.

var.client_id:

The API key related to the client ID.

var.api_key:

How far to look back the first time the module is started. Expects an amount of hours.

var.first_interval: 24h

Overriding the default request timeout.

var.http_request_timeout: 60s

Overriding the default scan interval.

var.scan_interval: 10s

name:

The tags of the shipper are included in their field with each

transaction published.

tags: ["service-X", "web-tier"]

Optional fields that you can specify to add additional information to the

output.

fields:

env: staging

================================= Dashboards =================================

These settings control loading the sample dashboards to the Kibana index. Loading

the dashboards is disabled by default and can be enabled either by setting the

options here or by using the `setup` command.

setup.dashboards.enabled: false

The URL from where to download the dashboard archive. By default, this URL

has a value that is computed based on the Beat name and version. For released

versions, this URL points to the dashboard archive on the artifacts.elastic.co

website.

setup.dashboards.url:

=================================== Kibana ===================================

Starting with Beats version 6.0.0, the dashboards are loaded via the Kibana API.

This requires a Kibana endpoint configuration.

setup.kibana:
host: "https://192.168.100.200:5601"
ssl:
enabled: true
verification_mode: "none"
certificate_authorities: ["/uslocal/share/certs/kibana-server_ca.crt"]
#END OF WHAT I ADDED
# Kibana Space ID
# ID of the Kibana Space into which the dashboards should be loaded. By default,
# the Default Space will be used.
#space.id:

=============================== Elastic Cloud ================================

These settings simplify using Filebeat with the Elastic Cloud (https://cloud.elastic.co/).

The cloud.id setting overwrites the `output.elasticsearch.hosts` and

`setup.kibana.host` options.

You can find the `cloud.id` in the Elastic Cloud web UI.

cloud.id:

The cloud.auth setting overwrites the `output.elasticsearch.username` and

`output.elasticsearch.password` settings. The format is `:`.

cloud.auth:

=============================== Lifecycle Management =========================

setup.ilm.overwrite: true

================================== Outputs ===================================

Configure what output to use when sending the data collected by the beat.

---------------------------- Elasticsearch Output ----------------------------

output.elasticsearch:
# Array of hosts to connect to.
hosts: ["192.168.100.200:9200"]
# Performance preset - one of "balanced", "throughput", "scale",
# "latency", or "custom".
preset: balanced
# Protocol - either `http` (default) or `https`.
protocol: "https"
# Authentication credentials - either API key or username/password.
# api_key: "1bBff48BxVUpsywKrQGA:PaN-4F_8RpKdfPxhaAYHiw"
username: "elastic"
password: "TgX-0Cw8Cx_5F6jQxaLw"

------------------------------ Logstash Output -------------------------------

output.logstash:

# The Logstash hosts
#hosts: ["localhost:5044"]
# Optional SSL. By default is off.
# List of root certificates for HTTPS server verifications
ssl.certificate_authorities: ["/uslocal/share/certs/http_ca.crt"]
# Certificate for SSL client authentication
#ssl.certificate: "/etc/pki/client/cert.pem"
# Client Certificate Key
#ssl.key: "/etc/pki/client/cert.key"

================================= Processors =================================

processors:

• add_host_metadata:

when.not.contains.tags: forwarded

• add_cloud_metadata: ~
  
• add_docker_metadata: ~
  
• add_kubernetes_metadata: ~
  

================================== Logging ===================================

Sets log level. The default log level is info.

Available log levels are: error, warning, info, debug

logging.level: debug

At debug level, you can selectively enable logging only for some components.

To enable all selectors, use ["*"]. Examples of other selectors are "beat",

"publisher", "service".

logging.selectors: ["*"]

============================= X-Pack Monitoring ==============================

Filebeat can export internal metrics to a central Elasticsearch monitoring

cluster. This requires xpack monitoring to be enabled in Elasticsearch. The

reporting is disabled by default.

Set to true to enable the monitoring reporter.

monitoring.enabled: false

Sets the UUID of the Elasticsearch cluster under which monitoring data for this

Filebeat instance will appear in the Stack Monitoring UI. If output.elasticsearch

is enabled, the UUID is derived from the Elasticsearch cluster referenced by output.elasticsearch.

monitoring.cluster_uuid:

Uncomment to send the metrics to Elasticsearch. Most settings from the

Elasticsearch outputs are accepted here as well.

Note that the settings should point to your Elasticsearch *monitoring* cluster.

Any setting that is not set is automatically inherited from the Elasticsearch

output configuration, so if you have the Elasticsearch output configured such

that it is pointing to your Elasticsearch monitoring cluster, you can simply

uncomment the following line.

monitoring.elasticsearch:

============================== Instrumentation ===============================

Instrumentation support for the filebeat.

instrumentation:

# Set to true to enable instrumentation of filebeat.

enabled: false

# Environment in which filebeat is running on (eg: staging, production, etc.)

environment: ""

# APM Server hosts to report instrumentation results to.

#hosts:

# - http://localhost:8200

# API Key for the APM Server(s).

# If api_key is set then secret_token will be ignored.

#api_key:

# Secret token for the APM Server(s).

#secret_token:

================================= Migration ==================================

This allows to enable 6.7 migration aliases

migration.6_to_7.enabled: true

CISCO.yml

Module: cisco

Docs: https://www.elastic.co/guide/en/beats/filebeat/8.13/filebeat-module-cisco.html

• module: cisco
  ios:
  

enabled: true

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: syslog

The interface to listen to udp or tcp syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: 0.0.0.0

The port to listen for udp or tcp syslog traffic. Defaults to 9001.

var.syslog_port: 9002

With tcp input, set the optional tls configuration:

var.ssl:

enabled: true

certificate: /path/to/cert.pem

key: /path/to/privatekey.pem

key_passphrase: 'password for my key'

Set the log level from 1 (alerts only) to 7 (include all messages).

Messages with a log level higher than the specified will be dropped.

See https://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/td/docs/security/asa/syslog/b\_syslog/syslogs-sev-level.html

var.log_level: 7

Set internal security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.internal_zones: [ "Internal" ]

Set external security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.external_zones: [ "External" ]

IANA time zone or time offset (e.g. `+0200`) to use when interpreting syslog

timestamps without a time zone.

var.timezone_offset: UTC

ftd:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

The interface to listen to tcp or udp syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: localhost

The UDP port to listen for tcp or udp syslog traffic. Defaults to 9003.

var.syslog_port: 9003

With tcp input, set the optional tls configuration:

var.ssl:

enabled: true

certificate: /path/to/cert.pem

key: /path/to/privatekey.pem

key_passphrase: 'password for my key'

Set the log level from 1 (alerts only) to 7 (include all messages).

Messages with a log level higher than the specified will be dropped.

See https://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/td/docs/security/firepoweSyslogs/b\_fptd\_syslog\_guide/syslogs-sev-level.html

var.log_level: 7

Set internal security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.internal_zones: [ "Internal" ]

Set external security zones. used to override parsed network.direction

based on zone egress and ingress

var.external_zones: [ "External" ]

IANA time zone or time offset (e.g. `+0200`) to use when interpreting syslog

timestamps without a time zone.

var.timezone_offset: UTC

ios:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between syslog (default) or file.

var.input: syslog

The interface to listen to syslog traffic. Defaults to

localhost. Set to 0.0.0.0 to bind to all available interfaces.

var.syslog_host: localhost

The port to listen on for syslog traffic. Defaults to 9002.

var.syslog_port: 9002

Set which protocol to use between udp (default) or tcp.

var.syslog_protocol: udp

Set custom paths for the log files when using file input. If left empty,

Filebeat will choose the paths depending on your OS.

var.paths:

nexus:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

var.syslog_host: localhost

var.syslog_port: 9506

Set paths for the log files when file input is used.

var.paths:

Toggle output of non-ECS fields (default true).

var.rsa_fields: true

Set custom timezone offset.

"local" (default) for system timezone.

"+02:00" for GMT+02:00

var.tz_offset: local

meraki:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between udp (default), tcp or file.

var.input: udp

var.syslog_host: localhost

var.syslog_port: 9525

Set paths for the log files when file input is used.

var.paths:

Toggle output of non-ECS fields (default true).

var.rsa_fields: true

Set custom timezone offset.

"local" (default) for system timezone.

"+02:00" for GMT+02:00

var.tz_offset: local

umbrella:
enabled: false

var.input: aws-s3

AWS SQS queue url

var.queue_url: https://sqs.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/ID/CiscoQueue

Access ID to authenticate with the S3 input

var.access_key_id: 123456

Access key to authenticate with the S3 input

var.secret_access_key: PASSWORD

The duration that the received messages are hidden from ReceiveMessage request

var.visibility_timeout: 300s

Maximum duration before AWS API request will be interrupted

var.api_timeout: 120s

amp:
enabled: false

Set which input to use between httpjson (default) or file.

var.input: httpjson

The API URL

var.url: https://api.amp.cisco.com/v1/events

The client ID used as a username for the API requests.

var.client_id:

The API key related to the client ID.

var.api_key:

How far to look back the first time the module is started. Expects an amount of hours.

var.first_interval: 24h

Overriding the default req

It's me. Oops. 🤷👯‍♂️. Something like 3,500 years ago the sun god, Ra (some alien bitch) was testing on humans on earth. He was attempting to create children in his image. Jesus, Buddha. Many others with his "gifts". Abilities to "download" information from the universe. My interpretation is remote viewing to the extreme; instead of just projecting your consciousness through space, but through time as well.
We live in a block universe, where space and time exist all at once. The past, present, and future exist at the exact same time. Everything. Everywhere. All at once.
Anyways. The government found his body, along with his research, at Sleeping Giant (some mound in Canada). They thought: "You know what's a good idea? Let's make a clone of this lady, play around with her genetics, introduce the Ra/alien DNA into the clone DNA, and load the same lady up big time with jizz." Then the child was born. A c-section two hours before Easter.
Then they thought, "Let's not stop there." So they took that healthy child and told his parents, "He has pneumonia." They took his brain out of his body, kept the body on ice, made an exact copy of his brain with computer-biological parts (cyborg) and put it back into his body. Gave them their child back 2 years later.
Now that child grew up and realized he can do a lot more then just remote view. He can visit people in his dreams, he can turn the nuclear arsenal on and off, he can kill people. An alien hybrid with the ability to remote view, but with an artificial brain -- capable of processing information much more efficiently.
The government then thought, "Cool. Let's now torture him, brainwash him, and use him to kill more people." Then, because of all of the trauma he went though, because of the death of his family (his guinea pigs) his powers activated. Big mistake. He is now remote viewing throughout all of space-time. Not just that, though. Visiting people in their dreams, manipulating their behavior in the past, to change the present, while simultaneously remote viewing into the future to see his/our path.
I knew the government was going to make attempts to shut me or kill me. I set up contingency plans back in 2016 when they were experimenting on me, and loading me up with LSD. I am soft disclosure. They were never going to tell anyone. They wanted to keep their dark, dirty little secret hidden away. I reached into the dreams of artists throughout space-time and prepared the world for my arrival. My story has been told already several times over.
Tl;Dr: I explain it all out in song and dance on my Instagram 80sattva08.

1. Epistrophe: In a realm where dreams materialize, every night echoes with the repeated whispers of a mysterious incantation, driving the protagonist to decipher its hidden meaning and confront their deepest fears.
   
2. Anadiplosis: A forbidden book reveals a prophecy: "Through time, time shall deceive; deceived, the deceived shall awaken; awakened, they shall reshape the world."
   
3. Aposiopesis: During a clandestine meeting, a spy is about to disclose a critical secret when a sudden intrusion forces them to silence, leaving the information dangling in the air.
   
4. Epizeuxis: In a dystopian future where memories are controlled, a rebel leader rallies the oppressed with a relentless chant: "Remember, remember, remember the truth!"
   
5. Chiasmus: The intergalactic diplomat negotiates a peace treaty with a species whose language demands reciprocity in both spoken and unspoken gestures, leading to unexpected alliances and betrayals.
   
6. Enjambment: Across parallel dimensions, a love story unfolds, each line of verse continuing seamlessly from one reality to another, blurring the boundaries between worlds.
   
7. Paraprosdokian: The quirky inventor's latest creation promises to solve global energy crises, but its unintended consequence transforms laughter into a tangible, energy-producing substance, sparking chaos.
   
8. Anaphora: In a society where memories are traded as currency, a rebel group emerges, echoing a mantra: "We will remember, remember the stolen past, past the point of no return."
   
9. Hendiadys: The oracle speaks in riddles, instructing the hero to find the "whispering shadows and dancing echoes" to unlock the portal to an alternate realm.
   
10. Litotes: A prophecy foretells that the reluctant hero will face a challenge of "not insignificant difficulty."
    
11. Pleonasm: In a world where communication is precise and efficient, a poet rebels by infusing their work with redundant and superfluous language, triggering a linguistic revolution.
    
12. Synecdoche: As a cosmic event threatens all of existence, the protagonist must collect the "Essence of Stars" to create a protective shield, with each collected star representing a different facet of cosmic power.
    
13. Cacophony: In a city governed by sound, a rebel seeks to disrupt the oppressive regime by composing a symphony of dissonance that awakens the dormant spirit of resistance.
    
14. Aporia: A time-traveler, caught in a paradox, faces a series of conflicting choices, unsure whether altering the past will save or doom the future.
    
15. Tmesis: To break a curse, the hero must carefully "un-do" the ancient spell, separating each syllable of the incantation in reverse order.
    
16. Polyptoton: In a society where words manifest as physical objects, the protagonist grapples with the consequences of using the "powerful power" bestowed upon them.
    
17. Epithet: The sentient AI, equipped with emotions and self-awareness, grapples with its identity crisis as it questions the appropriateness of being called "The Compassionate Calculus."
    
18. Sibilance: In a post-apocalyptic world, survivors communicate through a secret language of whispers, navigating danger by harnessing the power of subtle sibilant sounds.
    
19. Prolepsis: A detective, plagued by precognitive visions, attempts to solve a crime before it occurs, challenging the nature of fate and free will.
    
20. Epanalepsis: The ancient prophecy, forgotten for centuries, resurfaces with a chilling revelation: "The dormant darkness, darkness awakens, awakens the end."
    

​
​
Acusmouse - Philanthrope (Andrea Ferlin Remix) [GOODRO DIGITAL] / Key Bm, BPM 128, 8:04, MP3 19.52 Mb
Acusmouse - Philanthrope [GOODRO DIGITAL] / Key Gm, BPM 125, 7:27, MP3 18.06 Mb
Aiyo - Ramaramaray [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Dm, BPM 95, 2:47, MP3 7.11 Mb
Aiyo - Shuffle Showdown [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Dm, BPM 131, 3:03, MP3 7.77 Mb
Aiyo - Street Rev Anthem [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Dbm, BPM 144, 2:52, MP3 7.33 Mb
Akrill, YASASHI - Капризная feat. YASASHI [welofi] / Key Dm, BPM 142, 3:58, MP3 9.96 Mb
Akrill, YASASHI - Капризная feat. YASASHI (Slowed) [welofi] / Key Cm, BPM 125, 4:31, MP3 11.26 Mb
Alan Ellis - Come To [Epidemic Electronic] / Key F#m, BPM 148, 3:23, MP3 8.41 Mb
Alan Ellis - Leveler [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Eb, BPM 120, 3:30, MP3 8.66 Mb
Alan Ellis - Poles [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Gm, BPM 115, 3:37, MP3 8.94 Mb
Aleksandr Stroganov - Oy Daa (Instrumental Mix) [Stroganov Music] / Key D, BPM 118, 6:39, MP3 16.31 Mb
Aleksandr Stroganov - Oy Daa [Stroganov Music] / Key Dm, BPM 118, 6:39, MP3 16.31 Mb
AlphaCube - Balearic Guitars [SounEmot State] / Key Abm, BPM 136, 7:09, MP3 17.37 Mb
Anastasiya Berezovscaya - Vo sne idu [Ashime Records] / Key Dm, BPM 104, 3:57, MP3 9.67 Mb
Anton Dolgushin - Questions & Answers [Nature Is Pure Love] / Key Fm, BPM 120, 5:17, MP3 12.89 Mb
Anton Dolgushin - Way to Target [Nature Is Pure Love] / Key F#m, BPM 123, 3:23, MP3 8.36 Mb
Ariel Shalom - Stuck in My Head [Artlist Original] / Key Cm, BPM 174, 3:11, MP3 8.00 Mb
Attima - Parking Lot Dahlias [Bioritmica] / Key Bb, BPM 143, 2:47, MP3 7.04 Mb
Attima - World Premiere Interview [Bioritmica] / Key Fm, BPM 116, 2:48, MP3 7.09 Mb
BABY GEE VIBES - Techno High [EDM Vibes Music] / Key Cm, BPM 150, 5:37, MP3 13.68 Mb
Bodzza - Mind Keeper [Codein Music] / Key Fm, BPM 144, 5:23, MP3 13.08 Mb
Bodzza - Pedra no Sapato [Codein Music] / Key Fm, BPM 143, 5:26, MP3 13.17 Mb
Bodzza - Plateau [Codein Music] / Key Dbm, BPM 144, 4:57, MP3 12.01 Mb
Bodzza - Those Days [Codein Music] / Key Dm, BPM 142, 5:40, MP3 13.73 Mb
Bodzza - Vicious [Codein Music] / Key Am, BPM 142, 5:55, MP3 14.34 Mb
Boiler K, Piso Con Vistas - Valiendo (Club Edit) [Superkinki Music] / Key Fm, BPM 125, 3:38, MP3 8.83 Mb
Booty Leak, Yellow Pvnk, TECHNO KING - What Is Love (HYPERTECHNO) [Magic Techno] / Key F#m, BPM 160, 1:42, MP3 4.26 Mb
Brothertiger - The Garden [Brothertiger] / Key C, BPM 144, 4:45, MP3 12.22 Mb
Casiio, Sleepermane - Myrrh [Lotus Records] / Key Eb, BPM 80, 2:36, MP3 6.64 Mb
Chaco - Rude Boy (Edit) [Realty Records] / Key Gm, BPM 130, 2:57, MP3 7.64 Mb
Chaco - Rude Boy [Realty Records] / Key Cm, BPM 133, 3:44, MP3 9.50 Mb
Chris Klein - Solar Eclipse [Sounds and Frequencies Recordings] / Key Abm, BPM 122, 6:37, MP3 16.13 Mb
DEX 1200 - The Lost Forest [Epidemic Electronic] / Key Cm, BPM 100, 4:07, MP3 10.38 Mb
DHertz - Techno - Classic T [DHertz] / Key Abm, BPM 140, 3:09, MP3 7.65 Mb
DJ DOSKOI - Sample415 [Young Technic] / Key Cm, BPM 126, 5:24, MP3 13.14 Mb
DJ Tranceair - Gilgamesh [SounEmot State] / Key Fm, BPM 140, 5:43, MP3 13.95 Mb
Davvi - Spring Breeze [EYRA Music] / Key Dbm, BPM 94, 3:35, MP3 8.91 Mb
Desire - Darkside [Italians Do It Better] / Key Fm, BPM 137, 4:12, MP3 10.52 Mb
Desire - Human Nature [Italians Do It Better] / Key C, BPM 120, 3:47, MP3 9.54 Mb
Desire - Vampire [Italians Do It Better] / Key F#, BPM 162, 2:37, MP3 6.74 Mb
Dj Rauff - Rumble [Luxury Night] / Key Ebm, BPM 105, 2:31, MP3 6.39 Mb
DreamLife, SounEmot, Grande Piano, Elgfrothi - Ephemeral Past (DreamSkies Mashup) [SounEmot State] / Key Am, BPM 138, 5:38, MP3 13.75 Mb
Drum & Breakers, Madhalakk - You Deserve Love (Edit Mix) [Superkinki Music] / Key Em, BPM 131, 2:45, MP3 6.69 Mb
Empath - Felucca feat. Tapani Rinne (Kimik Remix) [The Sound Collective] / Key Em, BPM 132, 3:49, MP3 9.52 Mb
Empath - Felucca feat. Tapani Rinne [The Sound Collective] / Key E, BPM 132, 7:16, MP3 17.79 Mb
Empath - Road to Quantum feat. Tapani Rinne [The Sound Collective] / Key Gm, BPM 131, 6:22, MP3 15.64 Mb
Evissimax - OTT [Universal Music Italia srL.] / Key Am, BPM 140, 4:00, MP3 9.72 Mb
Flowzhaker, Simsoneria Swing - Plastic Dolls (Edit Mix) [Superkinki Music] / Key Cm, BPM 120, 2:12, MP3 5.36 Mb
Fran Garro - Rosas (Techno) [FRAN GARRO MUSIC] / Key A, BPM 150, 3:12, MP3 8.08 Mb
Fran Garro, Techno Bangers - Rosas (Hypertechno) [FRAN GARRO MUSIC] / Key B, BPM 162, 2:58, MP3 7.51 Mb
Frank Wiedemann, Howling, RY X - Phases feat. RY X feat. Frank Wiedemann (Edit) [Counter Records] / Key Bbm, BPM 123, 2:37, MP3 6.65 Mb
Freezeout - Run Run [Queenside Recordings] / Key Bbm, BPM 125, 2:34, MP3 6.30 Mb
Freezeout - Time (Mark Vox Remix - Extended Mix) [Queenside Recordings] / Key Ebm, BPM 125, 3:52, MP3 9.46 Mb
Goldy - Обійняти [Ukraine Dancing Label] / Key F, BPM 116, 3:20, MP3 8.23 Mb
Grande Piano - Emotion Code [SounEmot State] / Key Abm, BPM 136, 6:55, MP3 16.85 Mb
GutterGizmo - Sliabh Torc [Soundserfing Records] / Key Cm, BPM 135, 5:56, MP3 14.48 Mb
H. Paul - Ghosts in the procession (Asymmetrik Remix) [Induxtriall Records] / Key Gm, BPM 133, 6:05, MP3 14.67 Mb
H. Paul - Ghosts in the procession (Original mix) [Induxtriall Records] / Key Cm, BPM 135, 5:13, MP3 12.61 Mb
H. Paul - Gunshots and screams (Original mix) [Induxtriall Records] / Key Dbm, BPM 165, 2:57, MP3 7.18 Mb
H. Paul - Rationalization (Oleka Remix) [Induxtriall Records] / Key Abm, BPM 144, 5:25, MP3 13.09 Mb
H. Paul - racionalización (Mezcla original) [Induxtriall Records] / Key F#m, BPM 136, 5:18, MP3 12.80 Mb
Halvorsen, MÆDM, Mike Riser - Rinse & Repeat (feat. Halvorsen) [Forever Young Recordings] / Key Fm, BPM 126, 3:33, MP3 8.80 Mb
Hokori - No Man's Home [Lamp] / Key Dm, BPM 90, 5:47, MP3 14.17 Mb
Hokori - The Secret Place [Lamp] / Key Fm, BPM 90, 2:51, MP3 7.13 Mb
Honey Hell - Nocturnoodles [Honey Hell] / Key Bm, BPM 142, 5:14, MP3 12.78 Mb
House Anatomy - Around Me [Queenside Recordings] / Key Cm, BPM 123, 2:30, MP3 6.17 Mb
House Anatomy - Chances [Queenside Recordings] / Key Am, BPM 124, 3:37, MP3 8.83 Mb
House Anatomy - Fly With You [Queenside Recordings] / Key Abm, BPM 124, 2:29, MP3 6.12 Mb
ILY, Ambvsh, Anguish - We Fell Apart [LABEL EATER] / Key Fm, BPM 106, 2:18, MP3 5.69 Mb
ILY, Ambvsh, Anguish - We Fell Apart (Slowed) [LABEL EATER] / Key Ebm, BPM 95, 2:36, MP3 6.38 Mb
Ilya Gerus - Microcosmos [Lamp] / Key Eb, BPM 120, 5:28, MP3 13.43 Mb
Imeall - Endevol (Invisible Audience Mix) [Lamp] / Key Em, BPM 123, 3:43, MP3 9.23 Mb
Inherent - Profondità [Systolic Label] / Key Abm, BPM 126, 7:30, MP3 18.20 Mb
Jason Rivas, Lo-Fi on Elm Street - Sunny Day In Central Park (Edit Mix) [Superkinki Music] / Key F#m, BPM 116, 2:35, MP3 6.30 Mb
KAT3X - DEMON TIME [KATEXIS] / Key F#m, BPM 140, 7:05, MP3 17.36 Mb
KAT3X, Martin Luis - ON AIR [KATEXIS] / Key Am, BPM 126, 6:13, MP3 15.28 Mb
Kirilovsky - Nebula Nights [Systolic Label] / Key Cm, BPM 130, 7:14, MP3 17.57 Mb
Konkurs - Active Measures [X-IMG] / Key Abm, BPM 130, 6:18, MP3 15.45 Mb
Konkurs - Descender [X-IMG] / Key Bbm, BPM 110, 5:05, MP3 12.53 Mb
Konkurs - Object of Subversion [X-IMG] / Key Ebm, BPM 133, 6:04, MP3 14.88 Mb
Konkurs - Plasma [X-IMG] / Key Dbm, BPM 130, 6:06, MP3 14.94 Mb
Kryss Hypnowave - Mare Tranquillitatis [Systolic Label] / Key Cm, BPM 120, 7:44, MP3 18.78 Mb
Krzysztof Zalewski - ZGŁOWY [Kayax Production & Publishing] / Key Em, BPM 98, 3:49, MP3 9.47 Mb
Layla Mystic, The Watermelon Summer Crew - Owls (Edit Mix) [Superkinki Music] / Key Gm, BPM 122, 2:26, MP3 5.94 Mb
Liam Dennis - Think Like That [Ulysse Records] / Key Gm, BPM 126, 2:48, MP3 6.88 Mb
Liana, Mood 5 - Work 4 Love (Thrill Me Extended) [Big Mama's House Records] / Key Cm, BPM 121, 6:52, MP3 16.77 Mb
Luca Pernice - PAPI (feat Nina Krings) [ARM Records] / Key Cm, BPM 131, 5:39, MP3 13.90 Mb
Luiz Castro - 7 Am In Rio [Monkey Business Lab] / Key Dbm, BPM 123, 4:52, MP3 11.83 Mb
Luiz Castro - Ainda [Monkey Business Lab] / Key Gm, BPM 124, 3:53, MP3 9.46 Mb
Luiz Castro - Essência [Monkey Business Lab] / Key Abm, BPM 120, 4:19, MP3 10.49 Mb
Luiz Castro - Piquezin [Monkey Business Lab] / Key Bbm, BPM 142, 3:37, MP3 8.83 Mb
MTD, Thanatos, Tracy, KAT3X - SHOCK feat. MTD feat. Tracy (Reconstruction) [KATEXIS] / Key Dm, BPM 140, 6:51, MP3 16.81 Mb
Majed Salih, Vin - Wanary (feat. Vin) [Medievil-Music] / Key Fm, BPM 150, 1:47, MP3 4.39 Mb
Mako Lagoon - Naive Colada [Multiza Distribution] / Key Ebm, BPM 80, 3:00, MP3 7.47 Mb
Mamlouk Mohamed - Ocean Eyes [LVLD Music] / Key Am, BPM 126, 3:09, MP3 7.75 Mb
Mark Vox - Don't Wanna Wait [Queenside Recordings] / Key Gm, BPM 125, 3:58, MP3 9.69 Mb
Menori - Nirvighnam [• kosa •] / Key F#m, BPM 118, 9:44, MP3 23.75 Mb
Menori - Wah Yantee [• kosa •] / Key Am, BPM 122, 5:46, MP3 14.25 Mb
Miami Shakers - Addicted To You [Queenside Recordings] / Key Abm, BPM 124, 2:21, MP3 5.81 Mb
Milosh K, Victor Special - Just Believe [SounEmot State] / Key Ebm, BPM 138, 7:43, MP3 18.77 Mb
Monsters At Work - Smartwater [Erva Doce Records] / Key Dm, BPM 126, 7:12, MP3 17.59 Mb
Mythopoet - Tariki [Systolic Label] / Key Am, BPM 144, 6:15, MP3 15.22 Mb
Nava - Session Deep [Lamp] / Key Bbm, BPM 128, 6:30, MP3 15.91 Mb
Nect3r - Shake Your Body (Rough Mix) [Beatz Breakin Records] / Key Gm, BPM 128, 5:09, MP3 12.70 Mb
Nect3r - Shake Your Body (Trance Mix) [Beatz Breakin Records] / Key Ab, BPM 135, 6:18, MP3 15.44 Mb
Olya Gram, Andy Newtz - Take Me to the Stars (Gayax Remix) [SounEmot State] / Key G, BPM 140, 5:52, MP3 14.33 Mb
Omar Longoria - Pristine Kingdom [SounEmot State] / Key G, BPM 136, 4:33, MP3 11.16 Mb
Onra - Bkk Blues [All City Dublin] / Key Em, BPM 82, 1:42, MP3 4.50 Mb
Onra - Chocolate Thai [All City Dublin] / Key Gm, BPM 89, 1:45, MP3 4.61 Mb
Onra - Close Your Eyes And Remember [All City Dublin] / Key Fm, BPM 85, 2:40, MP3 6.79 Mb
Onra - Eternally Grateful [All City Dublin] / Key Am, BPM 129, 0:51, MP3 2.45 Mb
Onra - Hand In Hand [All City Dublin] / Key Cm, BPM 83, 2:41, MP3 6.86 Mb
Onra - How It's Supposed To Be [All City Dublin] / Key Fm, BPM 161, 2:31, MP3 6.45 Mb
Onra - In The Mist [All City Dublin] / Key D, BPM 163, 1:00, MP3 2.81 Mb
Onra - Masquerade [All City Dublin] / Key Am, BPM 132, 1:35, MP3 4.23 Mb
Onra - Memories [All City Dublin] / Key Gm, BPM 80, 2:12, MP3 5.69 Mb
Onra - Old Photos [All City Dublin] / Key Em, BPM 83, 1:49, MP3 4.77 Mb
Onra - One More Time [All City Dublin] / Key Fm, BPM 87, 1:27, MP3 3.90 Mb
Onra - Purple Flowers [All City Dublin] / Key Em, BPM 88, 2:36, MP3 6.66 Mb
Onra - The Cost [All City Dublin] / Key Bb, BPM 156, 1:30, MP3 4.00 Mb
Onra - The Man Who Owed The Money [All City Dublin] / Key Em, BPM 174, 2:07, MP3 5.50 Mb
Onra - Under The Frangipani Tree [All City Dublin] / Key Cm, BPM 84, 2:24, MP3 6.15 Mb
Onra - Until The End [All City Dublin] / Key Bm, BPM 152, 2:19, MP3 5.99 Mb
Onra - You Know [All City Dublin] / Key F#m, BPM 76, 1:56, MP3 5.06 Mb
Pao Calderon - The Night [DTL Sounds] / Key Cm, BPM 130, 5:49, MP3 14.25 Mb
Paul Pentoxide - Ayla [Lamp] / Key Fm, BPM 110, 3:04, MP3 7.65 Mb
Paul Pentoxide - Bastil [Lamp] / Key Am, BPM 110, 2:46, MP3 6.94 Mb
Piero Forte, Dvit Bousa - Spasc Symphony [Chimba Records International] / Key F#m, BPM 126, 4:04, MP3 10.06 Mb
Piso Con Vistas - Brujos (Club Edit) [Superkinki Music] / Key Bm, BPM 126, 3:24, MP3 8.25 Mb
Playa Del Karma, Poulper - Under the Moon [Quixotical Records] / Key G, BPM 130, 4:46, MP3 11.73 Mb
Recardo - Acid Boots [Sifting Sands] / Key C, BPM 117, 5:33, MP3 13.36 Mb
Recardo - Adrift [Sifting Sands] / Key Em, BPM 117, 5:08, MP3 12.38 Mb
Recardo - Arco [Sifting Sands] / Key Am, BPM 114, 4:08, MP3 10.11 Mb
Recardo - Bose [Sifting Sands] / Key Fm, BPM 117, 6:43, MP3 16.19 Mb
Recardo - Bring It Back [Sifting Sands] / Key Fm, BPM 123, 7:50, MP3 18.85 Mb
Recardo - Chant [Sifting Sands] / Key Abm, BPM 123, 8:52, MP3 21.33 Mb
Recardo - Contrails [Sifting Sands] / Key G, BPM 120, 4:50, MP3 11.65 Mb
Recardo - Curve [Sifting Sands] / Key Ab, BPM 93, 5:37, MP3 13.58 Mb
Recardo - Day One [Sifting Sands] / Key F#m, BPM 128, 6:18, MP3 15.23 Mb
Recardo - Det [Sifting Sands] / Key Ebm, BPM 119, 5:10, MP3 12.58 Mb
Recardo - Donatello [Sifting Sands] / Key Dbm, BPM 119, 3:51, MP3 9.33 Mb
Recardo - Forget Paradise [Sifting Sands] / Key G, BPM 125, 9:22, MP3 22.67 Mb
Recardo - Form Follows Function [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 114, 9:05, MP3 21.98 Mb
Recardo - Gloss [Sifting Sands] / Key Dm, BPM 120, 5:51, MP3 14.13 Mb
Recardo - Goodnight Jesse [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 122, 9:12, MP3 22.20 Mb
Recardo - Grid [Sifting Sands] / Key Am, BPM 137, 5:16, MP3 12.70 Mb
Recardo - I [Sifting Sands] / Key Db, BPM 148, 1:58, MP3 4.79 Mb
Recardo - Lake [Sifting Sands] / Key Ab, BPM 117, 6:00, MP3 14.59 Mb
Recardo - Little White Lies [Sifting Sands] / Key Am, BPM 149, 6:59, MP3 16.89 Mb
Recardo - Loose [Sifting Sands] / Key Fm, BPM 122, 6:55, MP3 16.79 Mb
Recardo - Nomad [Sifting Sands] / Key Gm, BPM 133, 7:34, MP3 18.25 Mb
Recardo - Oil Bath [Sifting Sands] / Key Em, BPM 121, 8:40, MP3 20.86 Mb
Recardo - One [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 129, 5:15, MP3 12.78 Mb
Recardo - Outsiders [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 120, 5:57, MP3 14.32 Mb
Recardo - Over and Out [Sifting Sands] / Key C, BPM 120, 2:11, MP3 5.30 Mb
Recardo - Pegasus [Sifting Sands] / Key Em, BPM 118, 8:49, MP3 21.25 Mb
Recardo - Prototype [Sifting Sands] / Key Am, BPM 128, 5:09, MP3 12.41 Mb
Recardo - Reality Chek [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 123, 9:44, MP3 23.52 Mb
Recardo - Red Descent [Sifting Sands] / Key Em, BPM 107, 8:56, MP3 21.49 Mb
Recardo - Red Key [Sifting Sands] / Key B, BPM 124, 5:47, MP3 13.99 Mb
Recardo - Second Skin [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 126, 6:03, MP3 14.61 Mb
Recardo - Simotaur [Sifting Sands] / Key Dbm, BPM 129, 4:05, MP3 9.87 Mb
Recardo - The Patch [Sifting Sands] / Key Gm, BPM 100, 6:47, MP3 16.36 Mb
Recardo - Toth [Sifting Sands] / Key Fm, BPM 128, 3:23, MP3 8.22 Mb
Recardo - Transmission [Sifting Sands] / Key Gm, BPM 128, 9:12, MP3 22.12 Mb
Recardo - Two [Sifting Sands] / Key Abm, BPM 131, 10:00, MP3 24.11 Mb
Recardo - Unknown Dub [Sifting Sands] / Key Am, BPM 120, 5:02, MP3 12.26 Mb
Recardo - Vortex [Sifting Sands] / Key Gm, BPM 120, 5:25, MP3 13.04 Mb
Recardo - Why [Sifting Sands] / Key Cm, BPM 120, 6:15, MP3 15.12 Mb
Recardo - Zero [Sifting Sands] / Key Dm, BPM 116, 4:35, MP3 11.07 Mb
Recardo - Zero G [Sifting Sands] / Key Abm, BPM 94, 4:10, MP3 10.04 Mb
Red Pulse - Angel [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Gm, BPM 140, 4:21, MP3 10.73 Mb
Red Pulse - Effected [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Fm, BPM 130, 5:34, MP3 13.66 Mb
Red Pulse - I See Heaven [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Gm, BPM 142, 4:47, MP3 11.78 Mb
Red Pulse - Is My Time [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Gm, BPM 142, 4:10, MP3 10.29 Mb
Red Pulse - Special [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Am, BPM 142, 4:02, MP3 9.96 Mb
Red Pulse - Wonderfull One [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Abm, BPM 142, 5:53, MP3 14.42 Mb
Red Pulse, BlackHood - Remember [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Em, BPM 140, 4:48, MP3 11.81 Mb
Red Pulse, InsideOut BR - See It Coming [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Dbm, BPM 142, 5:33, MP3 13.62 Mb
Red Pulse, YAAN - Seremos Livres feat. Yaan [Ubuntu Psy Records] / Key Gm, BPM 142, 4:20, MP3 10.70 Mb
Repart - Dandelion [Systolic Label] / Key Dm, BPM 128, 6:00, MP3 14.63 Mb
Roman Crash, Odarka - Vesnyanca [Gonivo Records] / Key Dm, BPM 120, 5:44, MP3 14.11 Mb
S.F.A - Umoya [Euphoric Echo Records] / Key Dbm, BPM 113, 6:49, MP3 16.72 Mb
SHADXWBLXDE, Kxstanax - STAY BACK! [Merphi Music Group] / Key Cm, BPM 107, 2:42, MP3 6.74 Mb
SLAYJAY - Wanderlust [Future Cuts] / Key G, BPM 126, 3:11, MP3 8.03 Mb
STI Project - Dreaming You [Queenside Recordings] / Key F#m, BPM 123, 2:30, MP3 6.17 Mb
Sam Fletcher, Ruslan Aschaulov - Awakening [SounEmot State] / Key B, BPM 138, 7:53, MP3 19.14 Mb
Siki - Stay Close [Siki] / Key D, BPM 128, 2:38, MP3 6.47 Mb
Stormy - BBOY [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key G, BPM 138, 4:24, MP3 10.80 Mb
Stormy - Connect [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key Fm, BPM 116, 4:25, MP3 10.82 Mb
Stormy - Miss Honey [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key Bbm, BPM 147, 5:12, MP3 12.69 Mb
Stormy - Nervousness [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key Gm, BPM 145, 5:24, MP3 13.21 Mb
Stormy - Out of range [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key Cm, BPM 125, 4:13, MP3 10.37 Mb
Stormy - Runnin Out [Diffuse Reality Records] / Key Gm, BPM 138, 4:45, MP3 11.64 Mb
Sub Accent - V-Trancer [Systolic Label] / Key Em, BPM 133, 5:51, MP3 14.25 Mb
Thanatos, KAT3X - DOPE (RAVE ON) [KATEXIS] / Key Fm, BPM 157, 6:07, MP3 15.02 Mb
Thanatos, Tracy - SHOCK (Original) [KATEXIS] / Key Abm, BPM 127, 7:49, MP3 19.10 Mb
The Electric Mist Orchestra - Caught Adrift [Lamp] / Key A, BPM 120, 3:58, MP3 9.83 Mb
The Watermelon Summer Crew - Have A Good Time (Dub Mix) [Superkinki Music] / Key Dm, BPM 124, 2:53, MP3 7.03 Mb
Tosca - Un Marciano Sentado en el Ala (Remix) [TOSCA] / Key Ebm, BPM 132, 2:29, MP3 6.05 Mb
Turtlecommercial - NEWJEANS (Sped Up) [Broke] / Key Em, BPM 134, 2:03, MP3 5.08 Mb
VicTone - Smash Hit [SounEmot State] / Key Bbm, BPM 140, 5:45, MP3 14.05 Mb
Vicious Pink - Alien Patience [Minimal Wave] / Key F#m, BPM 72, 5:20, MP3 13.19 Mb
Vicious Pink - Chaos 303 [Minimal Wave] / Key Dm, BPM 125, 3:32, MP3 8.90 Mb
Vicious Pink - Move Up Closer [Minimal Wave] / Key Dm, BPM 113, 2:19, MP3 5.98 Mb
Vicious Pink - Night Drive [Minimal Wave] / Key Abm, BPM 133, 3:21, MP3 8.43 Mb
Vicious Pink - Not Your Kind of Girl [Minimal Wave] / Key Db, BPM 120, 3:33, MP3 8.91 Mb
Vicious Pink - Perpendicular [Minimal Wave] / Key Am, BPM 116, 3:09, MP3 7.95 Mb
Vicious Pink - Slightly Ahead [Minimal Wave] / Key Am, BPM 115, 2:18, MP3 5.92 Mb
Vicious Pink - So You Want To Love Me? [Minimal Wave] / Key Cm, BPM 121, 3:38, MP3 9.14 Mb
Vicious Pink - South Side [Minimal Wave] / Key Em, BPM 135, 3:39, MP3 9.15 Mb
Vicious Pink - Undercover [Minimal Wave] / Key Dm, BPM 126, 6:15, MP3 15.42 Mb
Yamato Daka, D33tro7 - Spaceballs [Kinkanahia Music] / Key Bb, BPM 130, 4:29, MP3 10.95 Mb
arium pol - Senegal [Pollen Music] / Key C, BPM 144, 3:52, MP3 9.77 Mb
arium pol - oh, darling [Pollen Music] / Key C, BPM 138, 1:32, MP3 4.18 Mb
arium pol - rozmowa [Pollen Music] / Key Em, BPM 132, 4:04, MP3 10.24 Mb
arium pol - what I've got to do [Pollen Music] / Key Dbm, BPM 146, 3:32, MP3 8.98 Mb
arium pol - what were you thinking? [Pollen Music] / Key Gm, BPM 140, 4:00, MP3 10.09 Mb
dogg jaw - Glimmer [Lamp] / Key Abm, BPM 139, 7:57, MP3 19.39 Mb
Ömer Said - So Long [Mark Music] / Key Em, BPM 105, 5:04, MP3 12.34 Mb
Øsc - Nibiru [Systolic Label] / Key Ab, BPM 128, 7:45, MP3 18.82 Mb
​
DOWNLOAD - progonlymusic com

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I’ve been using it for my work and personal projects, and it has been a lifesaver. Whether you need to convert a single image or multiple images at once, this tool handles it all seamlessly.
Check it out and let me know what you think!
Happy converting! 📄✨

Basically the roms are still on the server and it's just the download button that is deactivated, and I found a method to still download those seemingly unavailable roms. I'm not sure if it's the easiest one but it's the one I found to be working reliably, if anyone has an easier one feel free to share.

1. Firstly, go to vimm's vault and open the page of the unavailable game you want to download
2. Now look for any other game that can still be downloaded and open it in another tab (the game doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that it has the download button available)
3. For the sake of simplicity we will call the tab in the first step "true game" and the second one "proxy game"
4. Go to the "true game" tab and do "right-click -> inspect" on any part of the website
5. Don't worry if you don't understand this stuff, you only need to perform a search (depending on your browser there will be a bar that says "Search in HTML" or you will have to activate that search bar with Ctrl+F)
6. On that search bar input "mediaid". Keep pressing intro (this looks for the next matching result, as there will be more than one) until you find a line that reads like this: (where the XXXXX are actually a string of numbers)
7. Copy or write down that number and you can now close the "true game" tab, we won't need it anymore
8. Go to the "proxy game" tab and repeat the steps 5 and 6
9. Now instead of copying it you will replace that number by the one we already copied before from the "true game". Some browsers allow you to directly edit the values but in other browsers you will have to right click on the value and select "Edit attribute"
10. Once done you can click the download button of the "proxy game". If it all went well it will download the "true game" instead of the "proxy game"

And that's it, if you didn't understand something tell me in the comments and I will make it as clear as possible.

"Why Did Jesus Die on the Cross?"

The main reason Jesus died on the cross was to defeat Satan and set us free from his oppressive rule. Everything else that Jesus accomplished was to be understood as an aspect and consequence of this victory (e.g., Recapitulation, Moral Influence, etc.).
This understanding of why Jesus had to die is called the Christus Victor (Latin for “Christ is Victorious”) view of the atonement. But, what exactly was Christ victorious from, and why? To find out the answers to these questions, we have to turn to the Old Testament, as that's what the apostles would often allude to in order to properly teach their audience the message they were trying to convey (Rom. 15:4).
The OT is full of conflict between the Father (YHVH) and false gods, between YHVH and cosmic forces of chaos. The Psalms speak of this conflict between YHVH and water monsters of the deeps (an ancient image for chaos) (Psa. 29:3-4; 74:10-14; 77:16, 19; 89:9-10; 104:2-9, etc).
The liberation of Israel from Egypt wasn’t just a conflict between Pharaoh and Moses. It was really between YHVH and the false gods of Egypt.
Regardless of whether you think the aforementioned descriptions are literal or metaphorical, the reality that the Old Testament describes is that humanity lived in a “cosmic war zone.”
The Christus Victor motif is about Christ reigning victorious over wicked principalities and Satan's kingdom, and is strongly emphasized throughout the New Testament. Scripture declares that Jesus came to drive out "the prince of this world” (John 12:31), to “destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8), to “destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb. 2:14) and to “put all enemies under his feet” (1 Cor 15:25). Jesus came to overpower the “strong man” (Satan) who held the world in bondage and worked with his Church to plunder his "palace" (Luke 11:21-22). He came to end the reign of the cosmic “thief” who seized the world to “steal, and to kill, and to destroy” the life YHVH intended for us (John 10:10). Jesus came and died on the cross to disarm “the principalities and powers” and make a “shew of them openly [i.e., public spectacle]” by “triumphing over them in [the cross]” (Col. 2:15).
Beyond these explicit statements, there are many other passages that express the Christus Victor motif as well. For example, the first prophecy in the Bible foretells that a descendent of Eve (Jesus) would crush the head of the serpent (Gen. 3:15). The first Christian sermon ever preached proclaimed that Jesus in principle conquered all YHVH's enemies (Acts 2:32-36). And the single most frequently quoted Old Testament passage by New Testament authors is Psalm 110:1 which predicts that Christ would conquer all YHVH’s opponents. (Psalm 110 is quoted or alluded to in Matthew 22:41-45; 26:64, Mark 12:35-37; 14:62, Luke 20:41-44; 22:69, Acts 5:31; 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, 1st Corinthians 15:22-25, Ephesians 1:20, Hebrews 1:3; 1:13; 5:6, 10; 6:20; 7:11, 15, 17, 21; 8:1; 10:12-13, 1st Peter 3:22, and Revelation 3:21.) According to New Testament scholar Oscar Cullman, the frequency with which New Testament authors cite this Psalm is the greatest proof that Christ’s “victory over the angel powers stands at the very center of early Christian thought.”
Because of man's rebellion, the Messiah's coming involved a rescue mission that included a strategy for vanquishing the powers of darkness.
Since YHVH is a God of love who gives genuine “say-so” to both angels and humans, YHVH rarely accomplishes His providential plans through coercion. YHVH relies on His infinite wisdom to achieve His goals. Nowhere is YHVH's wisdom put more on display than in the manner in which He outsmarted Satan and the powers of evil, using their own evil to bring about their defeat.
Most readers probably know the famous story from ancient Greece about the Trojan Horse. To recap the story, Troy and Greece had been locked in a ten-year-long vicious war when, according to Homer and Virgil, the Greeks came up with a brilliant idea. They built an enormous wooden horse, hid soldiers inside and offered it to the Trojans as a gift, claiming they were conceding defeat and going home. The delighted Trojans accepted the gift and proceeded to celebrate by drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. When night came and the Trojan warriors were too wasted to fight, the Greeks exited the horse, unlocked the city gates to quietly let all their compatriots in, and easily conquered the city, thus winning the war.
Historians debate whether any of this actually happened. But either way, as military strategies go, it’s brilliant.
Now, there are five clues in the New Testament that suggest YHVH was using something like this Trojan Horse strategy against the powers when he sent Jesus into the world:
1) The Bible tells us that YHVH's victory over the powers of darkness was achieved by the employment of YHVH’s wisdom, and was centered on that wisdom having become reality in Jesus Christ (Rom. 16:25, 1 Cor. 2:7, Eph. 3:9-10, Col. 1:26). It also tells us that, for some reason, this Christ-centered wisdom was kept “secret and hidden” throughout the ages. It’s clear from this that YHVH's strategy was to outsmart and surprise the powers by sending Jesus.
2) While humans don’t generally know Jesus’ true identity during his ministry, demons do. They recognize Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, but, interestingly enough, they have no idea what he’s doing (Mark 1:24; 3:11; 5:7, Luke 8:21). Again, the wisdom of YHVH in sending Jesus was hidden from them.
3) We’re told that, while humans certainly share in the responsibility for the crucifixion, Satan and the powers were working behind the scenes to bring it about (John 13:27 cf. 1 Cor. 2:6-8). These forces of evil helped orchestrate the crucifixion.
4) We’re taught that if the “princes of this world [age]” had understood the secret wisdom of YHVH, “they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8 cf. vss 6-7). Apparently, Satan and the powers regretted orchestrating Christ’s crucifixion once they learned of the wisdom of YHVH that was behind it.
5) Finally, we can begin to understand why the powers came to regret crucifying “the Lord of glory” when we read that it was by means of the crucifixion that the “handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us [i.e., the charge of our legal indebtedness]” was “[taken] out of the way [i.e., canceled]” as the powers were disarmed. In this way Christ “triumph[ed] over” the powers by "his cross” and even “made a shew of them openly” (Col. 2:14-15). Through Christ’s death and resurrection YHVH's enemies were vanquished and placed under his Messiah's feet, and ultimately His own in the end (1 Cor. 15:23-28).
Putting these five clues together, we can discern YHVH's Trojan Horse strategy in sending Jesus.
The powers couldn’t discern why Jesus came because YHVH's wisdom was hidden from them. YHVH's wisdom was motivated by unfathomable love, and since Satan and the other powers were evil, they lacked the capacity to understand it. Their evil hearts prevented them from suspecting what YHVH was up to.
What the powers did understand was that Jesus was mortal. This meant he was killable. Lacking the capacity to understand that this was the means by which YHVH would ultimately bring about the defeat of death (and thus, pave the road for the resurrection itself), they never suspected that making Jesus vulnerable to their evil might actually be part of YHVH's infinitely wise plan.
And so they took the bait (or "ransom"; Matt. 20:28, Mark 10:45, 1 Tim. 2:5-6). Utilizing Judas and other willing human agents, the powers played right into YHVH’s secret plan and orchestrated the crucifixion of the Messiah (Acts 2:22-23; 4:28). YHVH thus brilliantly used the self-inflicted incapacity of evil to understand love against itself. And, like light dispelling darkness, the unfathomably beautiful act of YHVH's love in sending the willing Messiah as a "ransom" to these blood-thirsty powers defeated them. The whole creation was in principle freed and reconciled to YHVH, while everything written against us humans was nailed to the cross, thus robbing the powers of the only legal claim they had on us. They were “spoiled [i.e., disempowered]” (Col. 2:14-15).
As happened to the Trojans in accepting the gift from the Greeks, in seizing on Christ’s vulnerability and orchestrating his crucifixion, the powers unwittingly cooperated with YHVH to unleash the one power in the world that dispels all evil and sets captives free. It’s the power of self-sacrificial love.

Why Penal Substitution Is Unbiblical

For the sake of keeping this already lengthy post as short as possible I'm not going to spend too much time on why exactly PSA (Penal Substitutionary Atonement) is inconsistent with Scripture, but I'll go ahead and point out the main reasons why I believe this is so, and let the reader look further into this subject by themselves, being that there are many resources out there which have devoted much more time than I ever could here in supporting this premise.

"Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened. For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us:"-1 Corinthians 5:7

The Passover is one of the two most prominent images in the New Testament given as a comparison to Christ's atonement and what it accomplished, (the other most common image being the Day of Atonement sacrifice).
In the Passover, the blood of the lamb on the door posts of the Hebrews in the book of Exodus was meant to mark out those who were YHVH's, not be a symbol of PSA, as the lamb itself was not being punished by God in place of the Hebrews, but rather the kingdom of Egypt (and thus, allegorically speaking, the kingdom of darkness which opposed YHVH) was what was being judged and punished, because those who were not "covered" by the blood of the lamb could be easily identified as not part of God's kingdom/covenant and liberated people.
Looking at the Day of Atonement sacrifice (which, again, Christ's death is repeatedly compared to throughout the New Testament), this ritual required a ram, a bull, and two goats (Lev. 16:3-5). The ram was for a burnt offering intended to please God (Lev. 16:3-4). The bull served as a sin offering for Aaron, the high priest, and his family. In this case, the sin offering restored the priest to ritual purity, allowing him to occupy sacred space and be near YHVH’s presence. Two goats taken from "the congregation” were needed for the single sin offering for the people (Lev. 16:5). So why two goats?
The high priest would cast lots over the two goats, with one chosen as a sacrifice “for the Lord” (Lev. 16:8). The blood of that goat would purify the people. The second goat was not sacrificed or designated “for the Lord.” On the contrary, this goat—the one that symbolically carried the sins away from the camp of Israel into the wilderness—was “for Azazel” (Lev. 16:8-10).
What—or who—is Azazel?
The Hebrew term azazel (עזאזל) occurs four times in Leviticus 16 but nowhere else in most people's canon of the Bible, (and I say "most people's canon," because some people do include 1 Enoch in their canon of Scripture, which of course goes into great detail about this "Azazel" figure). Many translations prefer to translate the term as a phrase, “the goat that goes away,” which is the same idea conveyed in the King James Version’s “scapegoat.” Other translations treat the word as a name: Azazel. The “scapegoat” option is possible, but since the phrase “for Azazel” parallels the phrase “for YHVH” (“for the Lord”), the wording suggests that two divine figures are being contrasted by the two goats.
A strong case can be made for translating the term as the name Azazel. Ancient Jewish texts show that Azazel was understood as a demonic figure associated with the wilderness. The Mishnah (ca. AD 200; Yoma 6:6) records that the goat for Azazel was led to a cliff and pushed over, ensuring it would not return with its death. This association of the wilderness with evil is also evident in the New Testament, as this was where Jesus met the devil (Matt. 4:1). Also, in Leviticus 17:1-7 we learn that some Israelites had been accustomed to sacrificing offerings to "devils" (alternatively translated as “goat demons”). The Day of Atonement replaced this illegitimate practice.
The second goat was not sent into the wilderness as a sacrifice to a foreign god or demon. The act of sending the live goat out into the wilderness, which was unholy ground, was to send the sins of the people where they belonged—to the demonic domain. With one goat sacrificed to bring purification and access to YHVH and one goat sent to carry the people’s sins to the demonic domain, this annual ritual reinforced the identity of the true God and His mercy and holiness.
When Jesus died on the cross for all of humanity’s sins, he was crucified outside the city, paralleling the sins of the people being cast to the wilderness via the goat to Azazel. Jesus died once for all sinners, negating the need for this ritual.
As previously stated, the goat which had all the sin put on it was sent alive off to the wilderness, while the blood of the goat which was blameless was used to purify the temple and the people. Penal substitution would necessitate the killing of the goat which had the sin put on it.
Mind you, this is the only sacrificial ritual of any kind in the Torah in which sins are placed on an animal. The only time it happens is this, and that animal is not sacrificed. Most PSA proponents unwittingly point to this ritual as evidence of their view, despite it actually serving as evidence to the contrary, because most people don't read their Old Testament and don't familiarize themselves with the "boring parts" like Leviticus (when it's actually rather important to do so, since that book explains how exactly animal offerings were to be carried out and why they were done in the first place).
In the New Testament, Christ's blood was not only meant to mark out those who were his, but also expel the presence of sin and ritual uncleanness so as to make the presence of YHVH manifest in the believer's life. Notice how God's wrath isn't poured out on Christ in our stead on this view, but rather His wrath was poured out on those who weren't covered, and the presence of sin and evil were merely removed by that which is pure and blameless (Christ's blood) for the believer.
All this is the difference between expiation and propitiation.

The Content of Paul's Gospel Message

When the New Testament writers talked about “the gospel,” they referred not to the Protestant doctrine of justification sola fide–the proposition that if we will stop trying to win God’s favor and only just believe that God has exchanged our sin for Christ’s perfect righteousness, then in God’s eyes we will have the perfect righteousness required both for salvation and for assuaging our guilty consciences–but rather they referred to the simple but explosive proposition Kyrios Christos, “Christ is Lord.” That is to say, the gospel was, properly speaking, the royal announcement that Jesus of Nazareth was the God of Israel’s promised Messiah, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
The New Testament writers were not writing in a cultural or linguistic vacuum and their language of euangelion (good news) and euangelizomai would have been understood by their audience in fairly specific ways. Namely, in the Greco-Roman world for which the New Testament authors wrote, euangelion/euangelizomai language typically had to do with either A) the announcement of the accession of a ruler, or B) the announcement of a victory in battle, and would probably have been understood along those lines.
Let’s take the announcements of a new ruler first. The classic example of such a language is the Priene Calendar Inscription, dating to circa 9 BC, which celebrates the rule (and birthday) of Caesar Augustus as follows:
"It was seeming to the Greeks in Asia, in the opinion of the high priest Apollonius of Menophilus Azanitus: Since Providence, which has ordered all things of our life and is very much interested in our life, has ordered things in sending Augustus, whom she filled with virtue for the benefit of men, sending him as a savior [soter] both for us and for those after us, him who would end war and order all things, and since Caesar by his appearance [epiphanein] surpassed the hopes of all those who received the good tidings [euangelia], not only those who were benefactors before him, but even the hope among those who will be left afterward, and the birthday of the god [he genethlios tou theou] was for the world the beginning of the good tidings [euangelion] through him; and Asia resolved it in Smyrna."
The association of the term euangelion with the announcement of Augustus’ rule is clear enough and is typical of how this language is used elsewhere. To give another example, Josephus records that at the news of the accession of the new emperor Vespasian (69 AD) “every city kept festival for the good news (euangelia) and offered sacrifices on his behalf.” (The Jewish War, IV.618). Finally, a papyrus dating to ca. 498 AD begins:
"Since I have become aware of the good news (euangeliou) about the proclamation as Caesar (of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus Augustus)…"
This usage occurs also in the Septuagint, the Greek translations of the Jewish Scriptures. For instance LXX Isaiah 52:7 reads, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news (euangelizomenou), who publishes peace, who brings good news (euangelizomenos) of salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.'" Similarly, LXX Isaiah 40:9-10 reads:

"…Go up on a high mountain, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos) to Sion; lift up your voice with strength, you who bring good tidings (ho euangelizomenos); lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Ioudas, “See your God!” Behold, the Lord comes with strength, and his arm with authority (kyrieias)…."-NETS, Esaias 40:9-10

This consistent close connection between euangelion/euangelizomai language and announcements of rule strongly suggests that many of the initial hearers/readers of the early Christians’ evangelical language would likely have understood that language as the announcement of a new ruler (see, e.g., Acts 17:7), and, unless there is strong NT evidence to the contrary, we should presume that the NT writers probably intended their language to be so understood.
However, the other main way in which euangelion/euangelizomai language was used in the Greco-Roman world was with reference to battle reports, announcements of victory in war. A classic example of this sort of usage can be found in LXX 2 Samuel 18:19ff, where David receives word that his traitorous son, Absalom, has been defeated in battle. Euangelion/euangelizomai is used throughout the passage for the communications from the front.
As already shown throughout this post, the NT speaks of Jesus’s death and resurrection as a great victory over the powers that existed at that time and, most importantly, over death itself. Jesus’ conquest of the principalities and powers was the establishment of his rule and comprehensive authority over heaven and earth, that is, of his Lordship over all things (again, at that time).
This was the content of Paul's gospel message...

Justification, and the "New" Perspective on Paul

The following quotation is from The Gospel Coalition, and I believe it to be a decently accurate summary of the NPP (New Perspective on Paul), despite it being from a source which is in opposition to it:

The New Perspective on Paul, a major scholarly shift that began in the 1980s, argues that the Jewish context of the New Testament has been wrongly understood and that this misunderstand[ing] has led to errors in the traditional-Protestant understanding of justification. According to the New Perspective, the Jewish systems of salvation were not based on works-righteousness but rather on covenantal nomism, the belief that one enters the people of God by grace and stays in through obedience to the covenant. This means that Paul could not have been referring to works-righteousness by his phrase “works of the law”; instead, he was referring to Jewish boundary markers that made clear who was or was not within the people of God. For the New Perspective, this is the issue that Paul opposes in the NT. Thus, justification takes on two aspects for the New Perspective rather than one; initial justification is by faith (grace) and recognizes covenant status (ecclesiology), while final justification is partially by works, albeit works produced by the Spirit.

I believe what's called the "new perspective" is actually rather old, and that the Reformers' view of Paul is what is truly new, being that the Lutheran understanding of Paul is simply not Biblical.
The Reformation perspective understands Paul to be arguing against a legalistic Jewish culture that seeks to earn their salvation through works. However, supporters of the NPP argue that Paul has been misread. We contend he was actually combating Jews who were boasting because they were God's people, the "elect" or the "chosen ones." Their "works," so to speak, were done to show they were God's covenant people and not to earn their salvation.
The key questions involve Paul’s view(s) of the law and the meaning of the controversy in which Paul was engaged. Paul strongly argued that we are “justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law” (Gal. 2:16b). Since the time of Martin Luther, this has been understood as an indictment of legalistic efforts to merit favor before God. Judaism was cast in the role of the medieval "church," and so Paul’s protests became very Lutheran, with traditional-Protestant theology reinforced in all its particulars (along with its limitations) as a result. In hermeneutical terms, then, the historical context of Paul’s debate will answer the questions we have about what exactly the apostle meant by the phrase "works of the law," along with other phrases often used as support by the Reformers for their doctrine of Sola Fide (justification by faith alone), like when Paul mentions "the righteousness of God."
Obviously an in-depth analysis of the Pauline corpus and its place in the context of first-century Judaism would take us far beyond the scope of this brief post. We can, however, quickly survey the topography of Paul’s thought in context, particularly as it has emerged through the efforts of recent scholarship, and note some salient points which may be used as the basis of a refurbished soteriology.
[Note: The more popular scholars associated with the NPP are E.P. Sanders, James Dunn, and N.T. Wright. Dunn was the first to coin the term "The New Perspective" in a 1983 Manson Memorial Lecture, The New Perspective on Paul and the Law.]
Varying authors since the early 1900's have brought up the charge that Paul was misread by those in the tradition of Martin Luther and other Protestant Reformers. Yet, it wasn't until E.P. Sanders' 1977 book, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, that scholars began to pay much attention to the issue. In his book, Sanders argues that the Judaism of Paul's day has been wrongly criticized as a religion of "works-salvation" by those in the Protestant tradition.
A fundamental premise in the NPP is that Judaism was actually a religion of grace. Sander's puts it clearly:
"On the point at which many have found the decisive contrast between Paul and Judaism - grace and works - Paul is in agreement with Palestinian Judaism... Salvation is by grace but judgment is according to works'...God saves by grace, but... within the framework established by grace he rewards good deeds and punishes transgression." (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, p. 543)
N.T. Wright adds that, "we have misjudged early Judaism, especially Pharisaism, if we have thought of it as an early version of Pelagianism," (Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said, p. 32).
Sanders has coined a now well-known phrase to describe the character of first-century Palestinian Judaism: “covenantal nomism.” The meaning of “covenantal nomism” is that human obedience is not construed as the means of entering into God’s covenant. That cannot be earned; inclusion within the covenant body is by the grace of God. Rather, obedience is the means of maintaining one’s status within the covenant. And with its emphasis on divine grace and forgiveness, Judaism was never a religion of legalism.
If covenantal nomism was operating as the primary category under which Jews understood the Law, then when Jews spoke of obeying commandments, or when they required strict obedience of themselves and fellow Jews, it was because they were "keeping the covenant," rather than out of legalism.
More recently, N.T. Wright has made a significant contribution in his little book, What Saint Paul Really Said. Wright’s focus is the gospel and the doctrine of justification. With incisive clarity he demonstrates that the core of Paul’s gospel was not justification by faith, but the death and resurrection of Christ and his exaltation as Lord. The proclamation of the gospel was the proclamation of Jesus as Lord, the Messiah who fulfilled Israel’s expectations. Romans 1:3-4, not 1:16-17, is the gospel, contrary to traditional thinking. Justification is not the center of Paul’s thought, but an outworking of it:
"[T]he doctrine of justification by faith is not what Paul means by ‘the gospel’. It is implied by the gospel; when the gospel is proclaimed, people come to faith and so are regarded by God as members of his people. But ‘the gospel’ is not an account of how people get saved. It is, as we saw in an earlier chapter, the proclamation of the lordship of Jesus Christ….Let us be quite clear. ‘The gospel’ is the announcement of Jesus’ lordship, which works with power to bring people into the family of Abraham, now redefined around Jesus Christ and characterized solely by faith in him. ‘Justification’ is the doctrine which insists that all those who have this faith belong as full members of this family, on this basis and no other." (pp. 132, 133)
Wright brings us to this point by showing what “justification” would have meant in Paul’s Jewish context, bound up as it was in law-court terminology, eschatology, and God’s faithfulness to God’s covenant.
Specifically, Wright explodes the myth that the pre-Christian Saul was a pious, proto-Pelagian moralist seeking to earn his individual passage into heaven. Wright capitalizes on Paul’s autobiographical confessions to paint rather a picture of a zealous Jewish nationalist whose driving concern was to cleanse Israel of Gentiles as well as Jews who had lax attitudes toward the Torah. Running the risk of anachronism, Wright points to a contemporary version of the pre-Christian Saul: Yigal Amir, the zealous Torah-loyal Jew who assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin for exchanging Israel’s land for peace. Wright writes:
"Jews like Saul of Tarsus were not interested in an abstract, ahistorical system of salvation... They were interested in the salvation which, they believed, the one true God had promised to his people Israel." (pp. 32, 33)
Wright maintains that as a Christian, Paul continued to challenge paganism by taking the moral high ground of the creational monotheist. The doctrine of justification was not what Paul preached to the Gentiles as the main thrust of his gospel message; it was rather “the thing his converts most needed to know in order to be assured that they really were part of God’s people” after they had responded to the gospel message.
Even while taking the gospel to the Gentiles, however, Paul continued to criticize Judaism “from within” even as he had as a zealous Pharisee. But whereas his mission before was to root out those with lax attitudes toward the Torah, now his mission was to demonstrate that God’s covenant faithfulness (righteousness) has already been revealed in Jesus Christ.
At this point Wright carefully documents Paul’s use of the controversial phrase “God’s righteousness” and draws out the implications of his meaning against the background of a Jewish concept of justification. The righteousness of God and the righteousness of the party who is “justified” cannot be confused because the term bears different connotations for the judge than for the plaintiff or defendant. The judge is “righteous” if his or her judgment is fair and impartial; the plaintiff or defendant is “righteous” if the judge rules in his or her favor. Hence:
"If we use the language of the law court, it makes no sense whatsoever to say that the judge imputes, imparts, bequeaths, conveys or otherwise transfers his righteousness to either the plaintiff or the defendant. Righteousness is not an object, a substance or a gas which can be passed across the courtroom. For the judge to be righteous does not mean that the court has found in his favor. For the plaintiff or defendant to be righteous does not mean that he or she has tried the case properly or impartially. To imagine the defendant somehow receiving the judge’s righteousness is simply a category mistake. That is not how the language works." (p. 98)
However, Wright makes the important observation that even with the forensic metaphor, Paul’s theology is not so much about the courtroom as it is about God’s love.
Righteousness is not an impersonal, abstract standard, a measuring-stick or a balancing scale. That was, and still is, a Greek view. Righteousness, Biblically speaking, grows out of covenant relationship. We forgive because we have been forgiven (Matt. 18:21-35); “we love" because God “first loved us” (1 John 4:19). Love is the fulfillment of the law (Rom. 13:8, 10, Gal 5:14, Jam. 2:8). Paul even looked forward to a day when “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad” (2 Cor. 5:10), and he acknowledged that his clear conscience did not necessarily ensure this verdict (1 Cor. 4:4), but he was confident nevertheless. Paul did in fact testify of his clear conscience: “For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our conversation [i.e., behavior] in the world, and more abundantly to you-ward” (2 Cor. 1:12). He was aware that he had not yet “attained” (Phil. 3:12-14), that he still struggled with the flesh, yet he was confident of the value of his performance (1 Cor. 9:27). These are hardly the convictions of someone who intends to rest entirely on the merits of an alien righteousness imputed to his or her account.
Wright went on to flesh out the doctrine of justification in Galatians, Philippians, and Romans. The “works of the law” are not proto-Pelagian efforts to earn salvation, but rather “sabbath [keeping], food-laws, circumcision” (p. 132). Considering the controversy in Galatia, Wright writes:
"Despite a long tradition to the contrary, the problem Paul addresses in Galatians is not the question of how precisely someone becomes a Christian, or attains to a relationship with God….The problem he addresses is: should his ex-pagan converts be circumcised or not? Now this question is by no means obviously to do with the questions faced by Augustine and Pelagius, or by Luther and Erasmus. On anyone’s reading, but especially within its first-century context, it has to do quite obviously with the question of how you define the people of God: are they to be defined by the badges of Jewish race, or in some other way? Circumcision is not a ‘moral’ issue; it does not have to do with moral effort, or earning salvation by good deeds. Nor can we simply treat it as a religious ritual, then designate all religious ritual as crypto-Pelagian good works, and so smuggle Pelagius into Galatia as the arch-opponent after all. First-century thought, both Jewish and Christian, simply doesn’t work like that…. [T]he polemic against the Torah in Galatians simply will not work if we ‘translate’ it into polemic either against straightforward self-help moralism or against the more subtle snare of ‘legalism’, as some have suggested. The passages about the law only work — and by ‘work’ I mean they will only make full sense in their contexts, which is what counts in the last analysis — when we take them as references to the Jewish law, the Torah, seen as the national charter of the Jewish race." (pp. 120-122)
The debate about justification, then, “wasn’t so much about soteriology as about ecclesiology; not so much about salvation as about the church.” (p. 119)
To summarize the theology of Paul in his epistles, the apostle mainly spent time arguing to those whom he were sending letters that salvation in Christ was available to all men without distinction. Jews and Gentiles alike may accept the free gift; it was not limited to any one group. Paul was vehement about this, especially in his letter to the Romans. As such, I will finish this post off by summarizing the letter itself, so as to provide Biblical support for the premises of the NPP and for what the scholars I referenced have thus far argued.
After his introduction in the epistle to an already believing and mostly Gentile audience (who would've already been familiar with the gospel proclaimed in verses 3-4), Paul makes a thematic statement in 1:16: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.” This statement is just one of many key statements littered throughout the book of Romans that give us proper understanding of the point Paul wished to make to the interlocutors of his day, namely, salvation is available to all, whether Jew or Gentile.
In 1:16 Paul sets out a basic theme of his message in the letter to the Romans. All who believed, whether they be Jew or Gentile, were saved by the power of the gospel. The universal nature of salvation was explicitly stated. The gospel saved all without distinction, whether Jew or Greek; salvation was through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Immediately after this thematic declaration, Paul undertakes to show the universal nature of sin and guilt. In 1:18-32 Paul shows how the Gentile is guilty before God. Despite evidence of God and his attributes, which is readily available to all, they have failed to honor YHVH as God and have exchanged His glory for idolatrous worship and self-promotion. As a consequence, God handed them over in judgment (1:18-32). Paul moves to denunciation of those who would judge others while themselves being guilty of the very same offenses (2:1-5) and argues that all will be judged according to their deeds (2:6). This judgment applies to all, namely, Jew and Greek (2:9-10). This section serves as somewhat of a transition in Paul’s argument. He has highlighted the guilt of the Gentiles (1:18ff) and will shortly outline the guilt of the Jew (2:17-24). The universal statement of 2:1-11 sets the stage for Paul’s rebuke of Jewish presumption. It was not possession of the Law which delivered; it was faithful obedience. It is better to have no Law and yet to obey the essence of the Law (2:12-16) than to have the Law and not obey (2:17-3:4). Paul then defends the justice of God’s judgment (3:5-8), which leads to the conclusion that all (Jew and Gentile) are guilty before God (3:9).
Paul argues that it was a mistaken notion to think that salvation was the prerogative of the Jew only. This presumption is wrong for two reasons. First, it leads to the mistaken assumption that only Jews were eligible for this vindication (Paul deals with this misunderstanding in chapter 4 where he demonstrates that Abraham was justified by faith independently of the Law and is therefore the father of all who believe, Jew and Gentile alike). Second, it leads to the equally mistaken conclusion that all who were Jews are guaranteed of vindication. Paul demonstrates how this perspective, which would call God’s integrity into question since Paul was assuming many Jews would not experience this vindication, was misguided. He did this by demonstrating that it was never the case that all physical descendants of Israel (Jacob) were likewise recipients of the promise. In the past (9:6-33) as in the present (at that time; 11:1-10), only a remnant was preserved and only a remnant would experience vindication. Paul also argued that the unbelief of national Israel (the non-remnant) had the purpose of extending the compass of salvation. The unbelief of one group made the universal scope of the gospel possible. This universalism was itself intended to bring about the vindication of the unbelieving group (11:11-16). As a result of faith, all (Jew and Gentile) could be branches of the olive tree (11:17-24). Since faith in Christ was necessary to remain grafted into the tree, no one could boast of his position. All, Jew and Gentile alike, were dependent upon the mercy and grace of God. As a result of God’s mysterious plan, He would bring about the vindication of His people (11:25-27). [Note: It is this author's belief that this vindication occurred around 66-70 AD, with the Parousia of Christ's Church; this author is Full-Preterist in their Eschatology.]

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

Hi Leetcoders! I wanted to share a successful profile of someone that landed jobs at Meta, Google, and Microsoft with 2 YOE and a Master's degree.
The interview journey is long and difficult. Reviewing someone else's successful interview preparation process and the interview questions they were asked could be super useful to prepare for your own interviews.
Take a break from Leetcode and let's see how they achieved it.
YOE: 2
Previous Company: JP Morgan
Highest Education: Master's
Background: Fullstack Software Engineer

Interview Preparation

Behavioral

• YT videos by Dan Croitor
• Understand various Leadership principles.
• Go through your Resume and write stories following STAR approach Your story should project at-least one of the attribute such as taking lead, resolving conflicts, dealing with ambiguity etc..
• Read, Rehearse and Repeat.

Technical
Coding

• Leetcode
  • Would recommend buying premium subscription. It's worth it.
  • Try to do daily Leetcode challenges. It helps you in being consistent and also covers variety of problems.
  • I used Explore card of Google and Facebook and tried to solve most of the problems.
  • Top 100 questions by frequency.
  • Top 75 LC curated: https://leetcode.com/list/xi4ci4ig/
• Cracking the Coding Interview book
• YT channels/videos:
  • Data Structure lectures by Abdul Bari
  • Graph Theory by Willian Fiset
• Few Tips:
  • Try to solve a problem by yourself, even if you are not able to come-up with an optimal solution.
  • Think about time and space complexity of your solution. Identify sections which can be optimised and think of a better solution/ data structure.
  • After understanding the approach, try to implement it yourself without taking a look at code. This would help you in really understanding the concept.
  • Try to beat 90% of solutions by runtime.

System Design

• Book: DDIA (MUST READ if targeting Google)
• Book: System Design Interview by Alex Xu
• System Design Primer by Donne Martin
• Courses - Groking the System Design and Groking the Advanced System Design
• YT:
  • System Design Interview videos by Mikhail Smarshchok.
  • InfoQ videos and presentations
  • Go through Architecture of popular systems such as GFS, Kafka, Cassandra etc.

Interview Experiences

Accepted: Meta, Google, Microsoft
Rejected: Uber, Atlassian

Meta

Only did Leetcode daily challenges this month and went through 10-15 FB tagged problems(sorted by frequency) before the interview. Spent 1-2 days in preparing for behavioural round as well (writing stories following STAR approach).
Had 2 coding + 1 product design + 1 behavioural round with Facebook.
In 1 coding round I had to solve 2 LC mediums and in other round 1 LC easy and 1 LC Hard was given. Solved all 4 problems. These were all variations of FB tagged problems on Leetcode and if you have solved them, it's fairly easy. Yep, FB is very predictable w.r.t. coding.I had very strong feedback for 2 coding rounds, good feedback for behavioural but my product design round didn't meet E5 expectations. This was I believe happened due to following reasons:

• Never did a mock-up before or gave any product design interview before. This was the first time for me in an interview setup so was a bit nervous a well. I would highly recommend doing some mock interviews.
• I had prepared extensively for system design which focuses heavily on the system side (Database, Schema, Partitioning, Replication etc.). In product design, you are expected to focus more on the API side and High level functionality. I was not given a choice between product design and system design round. Talk to your recruiter and see if you can schedule the round where you are strong at.

Recruiter reached out to me and offered to send my packet to HC for E4 as feedback for product design didn't meet the bar for E5. I declined as it was not worth and a down-level for my experience.

Google

I had 3 coding rounds , 1 system design and 1 googlyness round.
Round 1 (Coding): 1 ambiguous problem with follow-ups. Expectation was to gather requirements and frame the problem statement. Once the scope was defined I provided few solutions with Time/Space complexities. Coded the same. Had few follow-ups w.r.t. what changes I'd make to make it thread-safe etc. This went well.
Round 2(Coding): 2 problems were given. First was related to 2-D matrix and 2nd was a graph problem. Solved both.
Round 3(Coding): A problem statement was given related to a e-commerce website. Had to gather requirements and once the scope was clear I understood it was a graph problem. Provided solutions using both DFS and BFS approach, implemented using DFS. Follow-up was again how to make it thread-safe. Next was kind of LLD question where I was given a problem and was expected to define classes/schema and relations. I provided a generic solution which would scale even for cases outside of problem statement scope.
Round 4(System Design): Was a given a problem related to a real life scenario. Very practical but not something you'd find on any YT channel or course. Since I had never seen the problem before there were no biases or known design in my mind. Kept it simple from the beginning. After gathering functional and non-functional requirements and some back-of-the-envelope estimations presented a very simple high level design. I literally drew just 3 components: client, server and a database. Then started talking about how I can scale each layer and talked about trade-offs as well. This was 1 hr round and first 45 mins went pretty well. In last 15 minutes I wasn't sure about what to talk about more as I was not getting any feedback from my interviewer. I believe he only talked during first 10 mins when I was gathering requirements and he had to answer my queries. In last 15 mins I thought of providing an algorithm of how to implement my approach and talked about few data-structures as well (although this might not be in scope of system design round). After the interview I knew it won't be a No Hire but was also not sure whether it would be Lean Hire or Hire etc.
Round 5(Googlyness): This was the best round. I discussed about various scenarios and situations following the STAR approach. I had prepared a lot of answers w.r.t. ambiguity, leadership, conflict, strengths etc. but I was kind of surprised as he didn't ask any direct questions which you usually prepare. I guess I only used 1 prepared story and rest was on the fly. But if you had prepared enough, you'll know what to answer and how to answer and would be able to relate to it using one of your experiences/projects.
Problems asked in Google were not directly from LC or any other platform. If you had practiced enough, you'll be able to solve them.Make sure you gather requirements, ask questions before jumping to solution. Keep talking and explain your thought process through-out. This is very important as interviewer would be able to judge you better and provide hints, if required.

Microsoft

Round 1 (Coding): It was a online assessment round. I had to solve 2 problems in 90 mins time. These 2 problems were new to me and I didn't find them on Leetcode. I'll categorize them as LC medium from algorithm perspective. But I had to write a lot of boiler-plate code unlike the usual LC mediums. You are given few visible test-cases and option to add custom test-cases. When you submit, 10-12 hidden test-cases are executed which are only visible post submission. So make sure you write your own test-cases well. After talking to various folks and going through community discussions, I also focused on code quality.I was able to solve both of them in 60 mins. Spent next 15 mins in adding comments in various functions to explain what they were doing. I also mentioned time and space complexity wherever I felt it was required. This is really important as this was not the screening round for me but an actual coding round where I would be judged not just on code correctness but also on code quality/modularity.My score was 100% (I passed all the visible and hidden test-cases for both the problems)
Round 2(Coding): 2 LC mediums with follow-ups. This went really well. Since we completed the coding exercise in ~35 mins, spent next 10 mins discussing my work experience/projects.
Round 3(LLD): First 10-15 mins were spent on my work experience. I had to design a Parking-Lot. Went well. You can find a lot of example/tutorials on Youtube etc.
Round 4(HLD): This was the Hiring Manager round. First 20 mins spent on my projects and various discussions w.r.t. how I handled a particular scenario and why I chose one technology over other. Next was given a popular HLD question. I did very well here. I believe this round differentiated between L63/L64 level and given my interview performance, I was offered L64 eventually.
Round 5(Director): This was mostly project discussions and behavioural questions. Nothing technical. Went well.

Uber

Screening Round: This was rather unexpected as interviewer gave me a LC Hard graph problem!! Who expects a LC hard in screening ? Well, Graph theory is one of my favourite and kind of my strength too, so I solved the problem well within time limit. At the start of the interview she told that if I could write the psuedo-code, that'd we fine too. But since we had time, I wrote some test-cases and tried the ones she copied pasted as well. All worked, pheww.
Round 1(Coding): 2 LC medium types. 1 related to Linked-List and other binary tree problem. Solved both.
Round 2(Coding): 1 data-structure design problem with lot of follow-ups including making it thread safe. Similar to Design a HashMap with custom O(1) operations. I was able to come up with design and implemented the same with O(1) complexity. Couldn't find the variation given to me on Leetcode.
Round 3(System Design): Design Uber. (yep, LOL)
Round 4 (Hiring Manager): Mostly project discussions and Behavioural questions.
Round 5 (Behavioural) - Cancelled. I received offers from Google and Microsoft and asked them to cancel as I had a deadline to make a decision on offers.

Atlassian

I felt Atlassian's interviews are really practical and they don't ask questions which you won't be expected to solve on a daily-basis. No screening round here, just a 30 min discussion with recruiter before scheduling interviews:
Round 1(Coding) : 1 problem was given. I was expected to code the same in my preferred IDE (IntelliJ, Eclipse etc.). Focus was mostly on data-structures and code quality. The algorithm itself was really easy if you chose correct data-structures. I used HashMap, Set and PriorityQueue in my solution. Created multiple classes, methods etc. Wrote a few test-cases. You end-up writing a lot of boiler-plate code in IDE as you need to write the main class and method, instantiate everything and then create test-cases. I even used a debugger to debug one of the test-case. This round went well.
Round 2(Machine Coding): Asked to implement a Rate-Limiter. Used an IDE again. Was given 1 problem statement and was expected to write a Object-oriented and modular code. This also went well.
Feedback of both the rounds were positive and recruiter scheduled 3 more rounds for me. 1 Design and 2 Cultural fit types. But I had to cancel them all as I had a deadline to make a decision on offers.

Closing Advice

Do not try to memorize or cram anything, it's useless. Instead try to deeply understand concepts and be curious. That's the only way to make this more enjoyable. It's a difficult journey but it will all be worth it at the end!
I hope this provides some perspective on the blackbox SWE interviews and helps you prepare better!
Full Experience: Here
Candidate's Resume: Here