As she rode in the last train on this final visit to “Mount Eagle”, the darkening night obscured the silhouettes of her native mountains. To the other passengers she was just an elderly woman sitting on a wooden bench. She kept her hands folded on her lap, and tried not to look at her reflection superimposed on the fleeting shadows behind the window of the train. 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 who 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.
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.
Years after her visit to Mount Eagle, the last words of the Lords continued to haunt her:
"Remember if you can, it is but a game!"
She had seen the imposing cosmic show in her sphere. From galaxies to microbes, the rapid succession of destruction and creation.
There was beauty, even glory, in that fast action she could hardly follow. One phase had scarcely ended before the next began. After awhile, she couldn't differentiate -- it was too fast for her human brain.
Against her better judgement she went back to Mount Eagle. This time no one waited for her in the old train station. She walked to where the Hotel had been, but it wasn't there anymore. The old building had been torn down -- a brand new mall stood in its place.
She went inside and found that there was an arcade for virtual games and a few retail stores filled with the latest in electronics. From a bench in the food court, one could have a view of most of the action everywhere.
The old woman sat there for a long time, feeling that she knew many of the employees but couldn't recognize any them. She couldn't explain why she thought that "The Lords" had built the mall and were working in it.
She knew that she had been expected to show up and observe, perhaps even learn something about their games.
The people playing in the arcade were overtaken by strong emotions and used their fastest reflexes and actions. Above the din of the machines themselves, they made a lot of noise, laughing, cursing or moaning, even applauding their many kills.
One of the arcade employees came out and sat beside her on the bench. As they communicated silently, he accompanied her virtually to a secure military facility a continent away where she observed the action while remaining invisible.
The atmosphere there was mostly one of concentration. No shouts, no obvious joy, just the choice of targets to be destroyed with precision from drones, and some invisible flying weaponry.
She placed herself behind one of the young operators and tried to contact him: "Do you know that you are killing human beings who have no chance to either escape, or defend themselves?"
Yes, he knew that, but they were all enemy combatants to him, and had to be eliminated. That was his job and he tried to do it as best he could, without thinking too deeply about it.
Back on the bench in the food court and overcome by a deep sadness, she realized that what the "Lords" called games were never to be played by empathetic and compassionate human beings. These games will have to be shelved until a possible human devolution into silicon. Forgotten would be better!
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