The familiar alpine station hadn’t changed much over the decades. The discreet black limousine of the “Foundation” was waiting at the end of the parking lot. After the chauffeur closed the door, she concentrated on leaving everything she knew, including whom she thought she was, behind her in the night.

She walked rapidly across the Hotel lobby and took the service elevator to the second floor. The old cabin shuddered to a cranky stop. At the end of the narrow corridor she found the door with its familiar red sign warning DANGER DO NOT ENTER, punched in her code, and entered the small cubicle. She undressed and turned around for the cameras, then removed her glasses and pressed her face into the mask-like contraption in the wall. Identification completed, a cabinet opened, and she retrieved the folded garment from its shelf. The softness and comfort of the shimmering material was always a pleasant surprise, as was the way it remembered the shape of her body and became a one-piece jumpsuit. She lowered the hood down to her chin. The material allowed her to see fairly clearly. She found the headband and adjusted the red jewel to a point precisely between her eyebrows. When she felt the familiar pressure on her forehead, she concentrated on her symbol. A panel in the wall opened silently, and she entered the “Great Hall”.

Over the decades, she had tried to understand the technology of thought transmission enabled by the jewel. She would hear “The Lords'” speeches and questions clearly inside her skull, and would carefully craft her answer in her thoughts. She also knew that her brain was transparent to “Them”, and all her motives had been known and scrutinized before her visit. Each time she took her assigned seat under the Dome, she felt “Their” scanning like a gentle breeze blowing back and forth on top of her hooded head.

The round table was thick and transparent, a large block illuminated from within by a soft rosy glow. She sat in her place and sent her greetings in clockwise fashion to the others.

As she had done so many times in the past, she placed her hands palm down on the surface of the table and watched the activation of the miniature holographic 3-D system displaying her “Region” of Study. Then she began to feel the awesome skull-crashing waves of information “They” were sending to her. Tonight she felt painful discord, and she understood that “The Lords” were arguing fiercely among themselves.

Her display showed dark shadows whirling around the planet as never before. Not only were the inhabitants killing each other with renewed ferocity and the small islands of peace disintegrating, the Earth itself had taken on a sickly glow. The pollution was global, penetrating deeply into the crust and extending beyond her world into the atmosphere.

Suddenly the waves of information ceased. “The Lords” were tapping into her emotions. Over the decades she had begged for help, knowing that none would ever be offered. She had pleaded intensely from the heart and brain of her own mortal creature for the sake of others just like herself. “The Lords'” replies were always vague, if not ominous. She could feel their boredom alternating with disdain, even some slight amusement, as she persevered in her human ways. This last time, she would keep her emotions in check and remain in an observing mode for as long as she could. Projecting her own temporary condition onto all other life-forms on the planet might have been permissible in her youth, but over time, she knew that she had strayed beyond the boundaries of her own small speaking role.

She had understood, long ago, that “The Lords” did not feel compassion, viewing it as some primitive emotional appendage, a parabola whose only role was to return some benefit to its hopeful sender.

Compassion was one of the many subtle traps hidden in the labyrinth of her good intentions.

She would try to guide the small raft of her human feelings past the rocks of Duality without capsizing into fatalism or despair.

Suddenly, the circular walls of the “Great Hall” became a gigantic screen and she saw the last days of her planet. Were “They” expecting her to revert to her ancient begging ways?

This vision of total planetary destruction tore into her and she felt faint and nauseous. Her hands pressed harder on the surface of the table. From the deep wounds in her human heart she drew the strength to add her own visuals to the table-display. She projected a parade of human beings shedding their mendicant appearance to reveal themselves in the princely garb of their distant “sky-god” parents.

Focusing strongly on their faces, she took a close-up of a human eye filled with the light of all the stars. Pressing harder she added a short thought-message: Our Soul IS Immortal!

The sudden silence of The Lords surprised her; it was heavy and dark like a night without earthly sounds.

Her display began to melt into the surface of the table, while something solid and round grew under her hands. She picked up the sphere after it materialized. A tiny white speck was emerging from the middle of its total blackness. The white spread itself fast, hungrily swallowing the shadow until the dark was no more. Then something new began, a small black dot appeared in the middle of the white and grew until it engulfed all of it These metamorphoses from black to white and white to black continued for a long time within the sphere. When the show stopped, it was followed by a cosmic drama in miniature. Planets reverted to dust, stars exploded, and finally, she was treated to the majestic slow dance of galaxies swallowing each other in pyrotechnic displays.

The image faded, revealing a Tao symbol within the sphere.

Was this a gift?

She heard deep in her brain: “Remember if you can, it is but a Game!"

Bowing slightly, she left the “Great Hall,” forever.

malou