“We pray the mother's abiotic fluid flow with nature.
We do this for our future.
We pray the child is healthy.
We do this for our future.
We pray the mother birth her child swiftly and with no complications.
We do this for our future.
We are the light of the Eastern Star.
Like it or not.”
...
The Velocity
I don't know what the year was, women wore dresses and men wore suits, side walks were swept and books were kept. I'm not even sure how many languages were spoken, Greek and Latin were alway a token.
The floors were smooth and milky with marble of gold flushing through and they radiated a coolness. The chairs and lounges had arms made of dark carved wood and velour, colours of a halcyon in a pressed pattern. The air was fresh but some how smoke would waft and leave no mark, there was a vibration in the air of a musical tone, not drums or electric, a sound you could only feel. The hushed voices of aww, delight and confusion filled the empty space.
A complicated problem at hand in this year as information that was born long ago had been validated to be true. Histories retold as the real world of fiction was about to explode for a lie they had been stold.
"Where to begin is always a question of time."
The men and women in the room were an array of sorts but all had one thing in common, they believed, had knowledge, and also understood. They wore robes of black, one red, and another brown, others white, some had their head covered, turbans, yarmulke, habits and more, some no faces could be seen, and then another a mask of metal draped across her eyes and nose with eyes black as coal. Then there were still more, a woman in a mans suit, woven brown with treads of orange, and then there was a man with swords and a dagger shaped of a dragon, draped across his waist, his arms comfortably at rest upon them.
1"How do we teach the world this?"
6"What access do we have to each individual on the planet?"
4"Eyes with which to see and ears with which to hear."
6"What access do they have to each individual on the planet?"
5"They can reach everywhere, anywhere."
7"How long do we have?"
5"Time and space doesn't exist, you do though and you don't too."
3"If we could get into the minds of...everyone."
1"What if we could impress upon the mind through the eyes..."
1"The printing press."
5"We have wave/matter access now."
11"We knew long ago to keep track of old ways, capture the books until the time of the day. Here we are upon us a time, we thought mythical stories we had it wrong in our minds."
9"We need to put the lines in the sun, keep them apart from the sum. Know that evil is real as well as we know the Good."
1"Communication system with branches that have different capabilities/reaches, we still have to work in parameters of our own knowledge while we work beyond how we know. Nothing is what we thought it was."
5"Evil exists, it will grasp you as we walk our paths to meet back up, none of us, even the most wise can understand what that is until that moment. It will touch you."
...
The old ways are deep in the threads and we can unwind them and put them back together.
...
What might have been 600 years later or maybe even just 6.
"Everything is touching because all waves are connected as a vibration through time." "What if you could really learn through osmosis." "That would be a neat trick, I hug you and learn maybe not everything about you but pertinent information." "What if we could hook up every typewriter and see what it said, every word sketch on paper ever query in the air..."
"How the sun waves travel through the skin and light our minds eye."
7"fast thinkers, all the libraries of every thought through time."
1"why"
7"So we can control what they see and hear."
The Acceleration
5"What about mind trigger, we have wave/matter access now.""
...
The old ways are deep in the threads and we can unwind them and put them back together.
...
The year on Earth is 2028.
The Gold Box room hadn't seen action from the Kinematics Group since the last meeting. Much had happen on the surface, below and above. It had been used by selected diplomats to meet in secret through out the years. Nothing could be heard from the outside so it was a prized place, no one understood how but a select few. Their planes landing at Muscat International Airport and taxing into a nondescript hanger where whispers and nods for action were made. There was the under pinning hummm in the air always, someone there or not.
It was August and Oman hot, dry, blistering if you stayed in the sun too long. This day the air was still and the Gulf of Oman was perfect for peering if not so hot. Number One got there first. His plane had landed, he unbuckled his seat belt and took the papers he had read more times than he wanted to admit, placing them neatly in his attache. Assigned numbers were not random, nothing was random and there were no coincidences. He was always first, arriving first to first in his class. His unkept silver hair seemed to sprout out of his yarmulka. He was 86 now. His real name was well known in the halls of higher mathematics and theory from M.I.T to Cern. In The Gold Box room he was Number One.
The hanger door started closing as soon as the tail was in the building. When the door to his plane opened the stairs came down. He took his attache, threw the strap over his left shoulder and took the deepest breath his old body could take. This was the most unprepared he had ever been, it was uncomfortable. He had all the information to present. He understood it, knew it and had experienced it, and he still felt unprepared. He loved to be uncomfortable, this was a dangerous uncomfortable.
The young soldier stood at the foot of the stairs. A member of the Katoom Brigade, he stood upright, eyes forward in his tan uniform with red and green accents. They had been bread for silence. Oman was quiet, out of the way, silent, where magic and science intersected.
...
"Earth Port GoO. We are 36 minutes out. Cargo is Lobster."
"Moon Port Tycho. All cyber signals clear."
The salt water of the Gulf of Oman was glass, perfect for landing.
"Moon Port Tycho. Manta Rays are on the way."
There were no bubbles as a tale on the water surface. Underwater the Squadron of Manta Rays moved with the coordination of sparrows flying through the sky, because they could. There were no signals that would bounce as a tell of their existence by radar or anywhere on the electro magnetic spectrum. The lead was female the rest male clones, communication was instant. The skin of the Manta Ray was artificially grown on the surface of the half artificial animal and machine. The Manta Ray was multi modal from the sea to the air. It wasn't restricted to forward movement. It could stop, go, up, down, left, right and moved with unbelievable speed. The weaponry was sonic.
He thought the tag 'Lobster' was apropos for the time. He was meeting the Kinematics Group with concerns of the dynamics taking place globally, in the gold box room, with the velvet chairs he loved.
When the Manta Ray Squadron breeched the water surface the Earth would never be the same.
'Lobster' was about to make an entrance.
...
The rest followed one by one, some not the original Numbered Names, human life has a timeline end.
...
Where to begin is a question of time.
Number Two was one of the more interesting members of the Kinematic Group. They never called her Number Two, that was her designation. Number Two was a blood line and she had to be pregnant. They called her The bet. In 1982 her mother had stat on a velour chair in the Gold Box room, silent and absorbing. The bet's position was the most unique. She passed down the library. Her life ended softly while sleeping, an easy brain aneurysm. Her mother had been a great soldier.
Her soft facial features and creamy skin sparsely dotted with freckles on her nose and cheeks were framed with care. The bet had tamed curly locks the color of a sunset after an earth release, orange, gold and streaks of blush red that gathered and dropped over her shoulders. She walked tall through the crowd of westerners and Omanis dressed in their dashes and head toppings, some of the women completely draped in black. There was no baby bump for others to see, but some women could see them both.
The bet felt at home as she made her way through the sook stone alleyways. The bet's father had been in United States Marine Corp Intelligence and she had spent a better part of her time in the desert with her sensitive skin. Home schooled but not sheltered. Her father had been her mother’s handler and wife, chosen by the Diwan, she was the same as would be her daughter, the library.
The crowd eased and the air opened up as she came upon the sidewalk. A Range Rovers door opened, she sat down with her knees touching and rotated her legs in as if she was part of the machine. Behind her three men in short sleeve button down shirts and relaxed pants moved in sync with no ear pieces to see. The were the Mythos Rangers, genetically enhanced eunuchs that moved like panthers and looked like gods. Their assignment was her security. Their creation was altogether something new.
She sat quietly as she was whisked away. Then asked the driver to slow down. She knew 13 wanted to be there second and she wanted to be third. Everything had meaning. Everything done with purpose.
...
As they drove down 18th November St she watched the people go by and then she saw pointing to the Gulf. She looked out the other window towards the water and she saw what people were stoping to see. A squadron of manta rays were flying over the glassy waters of the Gulf of Oman, entering again with no splash and then staying mid flight for an odd amount of time.
...
Lobster stood at his helm. He separated his fingers at their web and slipped them and his thumbs into his control panel like a glove. In front of him a panel screens lit up, all of humans moving in situations, all over the world. The real world was reality television to him, just entertainment.
Lobster's lair was underwater with his Manta Rays.
1969
"Why does it work the way it does?"
"Can it be changed?"
"God be with you."
the woman in the crisp white frock whispered to the baby boy.
1986
Lobster had a way to connect to the new system of nets. He had a symbiotic relationship with the machine. The tips of his fingers flowed between the ones and o's and then it helped him find two's then three's. His visual cortex had been enhanced in womb. He didn't know it though.
The Diwan were trying to recreate the natural abilities of a select few others that had natural abilities to see what others could not. It worked but not the way they thought it would. He couldn't see the shiners from the other side, he could see into the machine though. He was able to manufacture vision on screen for others. He made people move where he wanted.
Number One was briefed daily on Lobsters progress. He wouldn't go by the call sign Lobster until years later, and then it was never official. His life was not normal but looked it from the out side. His mother and father also part of the program were hand chosen like the rest of the Wolf Pack. As Lobster grew he found himself drawn to salt water where his ability increased exponentially.
...
Number Nine, "Alph beit world where anything can happen if spoken. Events can disappear, degrees can appear out of thin spoken air. What looks like magic is just knowledge for the witches words." a mask of metal draped across her eyes and nose with eyes black as coal she said into the air.
...
The Wolf Pack were the children of which there were 13, like the Kinetic group, 13. With one overlapping, the bet.
...
1982
Thirteen was eleven. She sat on the cool marble floor of the Gold Box room listening to the adults around her. She was the only child there. Her legs crossed under her and her knobby knees sticking out of her sun yellow dress. She sat and absorbed everything around her. From the smokeless smoke to the vibration where she was able hear something different than the adults. Thirteen would one day be the mother to the Wolf Pack. Thirteen had a touch to know. Thirteen had a touch to know time. Thirteen was bred to be, like the Wolf Pack but old lines.
She looked up at Number Nine, the woman's arms covered in soft flowing fabrics of cream and scarlet. Her hands with gold rings on each index finger, on the left she wore an odem on her right she wore an emerald. At the base of her throat was a naturally formed topaz on a gold collar.
Number Nine looked at Thirteen on the floor and in a heavy accent said to her in a whisper as smoke came out of her mouth with each word, "Where there are words there is power, take care for the numbers. We have to use all of it to get there." "I am going to have you remember things later, after the blood moon stops. You have everything you need to get where you need to go and all logistics will be taken care of for you. Go and collect."
Her coal black yes looked deep into Thirteen and left what she would need there.
...
"Voodoo Rangers are coming in cold."
The voice was matter of fact. The hearers on the other end of the message had no ear pieces. They heard telepathically. One of the Katoom Brigade looked out to the Gulf and saw the Manta Rays fly through the sky.
Under water in Lobsters cavern, his system engaged with the lead Manta Ray.
The message was received before it was sent.
Lead Manta's bio magnification morphed χρωμα. She didn't disappear, she went back 1340 years, she was still there but was invisible to the human eye because they could not see through time. The males followed her what looked like instantly. Gone from the sky.
Lead Manta reappeared over the bets Range Rover as it drove down 18th November street. The males appeared behind her in a wing pattern with three in the rear in a lead, two three formation.
People on the streets and on sidewalks looked at one another in awe. Confused looks were exchanged. The Manta Rays had appeared egressing the Gulf, flew a distance for a time, disappeared then reappeared over 18th November street.
...
Χρωμα
חרעמא
