Prologue
The island was safe for the time being. Before I continue my story, I would like to clarify what distinguishes our time from previous ones. The age in which we live, which began to unfold even then, we call the Parousia. The Greek philosopher Plato saw the Parousia as “the presence or presence of the ideas in the things which partake of those”. For the Christian tradition, the Parousia is coupled with the end time return of Christ. Our era is the realization of this marriage of spirit and matter. With us, there is only exchange and enrichment, as dualistic separation no longer exists.
A linear time calculation plays a very subordinate role in our present. It is entertaining for me to again employ the chronological method of narration, but in our world, we move freely in time and space. The renewed encounter with Chronos is comparable to the idea of time travel in earlier eras: I narrate while I am simultaneously a part of the narration.
In the course of my story, the open exchange between organic and inorganic matter will refine. As I have spoken of before, if I visit a lioness host, the entire history of the “lioness existence” is available to me. However, I can just as well visit a chair and learn how it became one.
In former times, there were people who imagined the Parousia as boring: passions, dramas, wars, power plays...superfluous. The truth is, nothing is more beautiful than expanding matter. The present develops its own dynamics as it completely redefines the concept of diversity. We are diversity. And, since our diversity is infinite, unlimited possibilities arise to experience, shape and exchange our diversity. In the Parousia, creation is in a cosmic embrace with itself. The concept of “death” as earlier experienced, has become a thing of the past. We cannot say exactly when we will die. Death has become one door of many, as a stone “dies” slower than a butterfly. Beginnings and endings touch and complement one another, as they are no longer mutually exclusive.
But let us now return to our story.
The Pilot Tells His Story
After the great events, everyday life was healing for the island. The following weeks were a blend of physical exertion and joyful encounters. New homes were built on the cliffs for the Stranded. We younger ones cared for the animals, helped in the garden and with the fieldwork. Evenings we met on the beach, ate and sang together and became ever closer as a community. The tireless efforts of Carmen, Viktor, Marie and Anton, as well as Wiebke and Selene, were decisive for our guests suffering from the Markings. Thanks to their help, the traumatized newcomers were able to live in peace. Carmen was imminently important in helping them accept their ability to transform as a gift and not a curse.
The OKs were in their new homes, the animals and the fields prospering. For us, the companions, the inner urge to pursue our mission grew. And so it was that one evening, around the campfire, we considered our next steps. Sophia held our entire attention as she addressed us:
“Well, what do we know exactly? We know, that the power of the Black Pillar has been broken. The WB believes our island no longer exists, perhaps destroyed by a tsunami or some similar nature event. The link between the data center and the mainland has been dismantled. As a result, we have gained a great deal of freedom and we need to consider what to do with that freedom. It is not enough to just go on living as before. Carmen has told us about the Resistance. It is time to find out what information the black box contains.”
Sophia asked Herbert and Rainer to bring the box, the battery and the feather antenna. Everything was set up and Rainer spoke the password. Fascinated, we watched, as the CD began to move and a calm but grave voice could be heard loud and clear:
“My name is Ben. As the pilot of this aircraft, I am speaking my last words on this CD. The dark forces have triumphed for now and none of us will survive. Therefore, I need to record our story for future generations, who will hopefully, as were we, be willing to risk their lives to overcome the WB domination.
It is the year 2135. Since 2130, I have lived on an island approximately 60 kilometers west of the former French mainland. A center was there and a select handful of scientists, including myself, were given the task of researching solutions for the growing epidemic of the Markings. At least, that was what we were told, but the WB had far more important goals we knew nothing about. The truth was, we represented a kind of experimental field for them. As in earlier times, they let us live in family units and observed our