story
Volume 32, Number 3

Hope

Jonel Abellanosa

I asked not to participate in dismantling what past humans called the moon. I wanted to send a radio message four hundred forty-seven years into the past, back into ‘45. The last-ditch effort might avert the quest for another galaxy, the need to find a habitable zone and terraform a new planet, rebuild the spiritual bridge that must be crossed to be allowed entry into eternity, where physical bodies are no longer needed.

We evolved from our ancestors’ refusal to change their minds and save the ecological design. Countless forebears had been traveling back to generations with warnings about the planet’s looming death, which is nothing but self-destruction. It became counterproductive to appear as human beings they’d recognize. Appearing as extraterrestrials scared them into action. We exploited fears of the unknown. We had become tall and spindly, with elongated arms, huge skulls making us look like octopuses, because the planet our elders found has different gravitational forces. Our eyes reshaped, huge and almond-shaped, wholly black, because our home in the galaxy lacks the natural light their sun provided.

Our predecessors concluded that greed emerged from the war that led to the detonation of the first atomic bomb. Avarice took over socio-political and economic institutions. The destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki ironically spawned the collective hope of rebuilding, a persistent theme of the human enterprise. ‘45 proved that nothing destroys like greed. ’45 turned the love of money from scriptural warning into tangible evil. Cities turned into rubbles, metropolises rising with corporate money. Hunger and homelessness were the supreme paradox. Smokes of industry fogged clarity, the air sagging with health hazards. The planet was literally polluted to death, choked with plastics.

I’ve learned to love them, their best interest keeping me awake. I was a young man—seven hundred Earth years old when we were invited to the interdimensional community’s observatory—their moon . I suggested increasing brain size of arboreal hominids, to fast-track spiritual evolution. Engineers devised ways of sending electron-dense mushroom spores across deep space, steered towards Earth’s fallow grounds, for mushrooms to be part of Earth’s flora and fauna. They dried sub-Saharan Africa for prehistoric humans to descend from trees and encounter, while searching other food sources, edible fungi with psilocybin that increased brain size and power, introduced creativity and spirituality, enhancing sensual and perceptive perspicacity. Homo sapiens evolved into a migratory species, with the desire to travel transmitted into succeeding generations genetically.

I was joyous when they made the connection between “above” and “below”—a cosmic law they explored with alchemy. We interfered, quantum entangling and teleporting (crude technologies those times) mental suggestions to their wise men. Their intellectual superiors called it insight or inspiration, nirvana or samadhi, eureka moment or serendipity, revelation or enlightenment. It was pleasing watching them overcome the worst instincts, producing renaissance men spearheading scientific revolutions. They produced art and music echoing the divine. Their literature’s concern with the human condition attuned the attentive heart to the universal fabric of love, care, selflessness, generosity, hope and humility.

But the enlightened belonged to the minority, spiritual revolutions fizzling after self-interest. Divisions truth-seekers created outweighed benefits. Promising movements became political forces. We witnessed bribery, threats of violence, blackmail, wealth-hoarding and the politics of business as usual. Greed was its heart—the same motivator that wiped out civilizations writers called “Atlantis” or “Babel.” We changed something in the past—to include “the love of money is the root of all evils” in the teachings of one of our emissaries they called the Christ.

*

Without their moon, their planet will quickly vary axial tilts severely, seasonal changes going awry. Without the moon’s stabilizing effects on rotation, the Earth will violently wobble as it spins. With much harsher climates and drastic climatic changes across Earth’s solar orbit, it will be impossible for the planet to host life. Evolutionary biology won’t lynchpin spiritual maturity.

They understood the moon’s role in sustaining life, but they suspected its stabilizing effects on Earth to be, in fact, an engineering feat. Our dimensional forebears wanted to keep a close eye on human evolutionary and spiritual progress, concluding, with technologies those times, that it would be difficult to assess granular details beyond 384,400 kilometers from Earth. Engineers devised ways of making the moon modulate Earth’s tilt and wobble, for the moon to appear indispensable to terrestrial biology.

The moon is made of interstellar material that rings like metal when a hard object hits its surface. To make it resemble heavenly bodies, the moon has been surfaced with materials friendly to minerals like iron, magnesium and calcium. It’s the perfect cover, having the soil’s appearance. Earthlings started suspecting hidden layers of hard material after noticing uniform crater depths. They crash landed lunar vehicles creating, as expected, vibratory waves a ringing bell transmitted.

Earthlings would have been allowed to see the moon’s far side, which holds a wormhole for dimensional space and time travelers. Engineers made the moon’s orbit around the Earth as fast as it rotates on its own axis. The time the moon takes to complete a rotation is the same length of time it takes to orbit Earth—thus Earthlings always saw the same near side, never the dark side hosting interstellar bridges and gateways.

Several alien species had tried assisting the human race, happy when Earthlings figured out that everything in the universe is energy, which exists even in vacuums. Everything in the universe has a torus field. Energy drives everything in the universe. Energy is a self-sustaining, self-organizing force that tends towards the most efficient conservation system. Earthlings figured out that the Universe is spherical, meaning space is limited. Nature self-organizes against limits using spirals—the Golden Ratio and the Fibonacci Sequence, primarily. To achieve symmetry and avoid collision, the planet Venus, for instance, follows an orbital pentagram utilizing the Golden Ratio (in lockstep with Earth’s pathway in a complicated cosmic dance), fractal microcosm to the Milky Way’s spiral, completed every eight years, eight being a factor of 64. A flower with petals arranged to vertically spiral according to the Fibonacci Sequence maximizes rainfall flowing into its roots. A storm system utilizes self-reinforcing spirals to pack its wallop, cleanse the air with efficiency. Aliens have been showing the human race the number 64 as creation’s thumbprint, holding the vector equilibrium and the torus field, subatomic particles shaped like the rhombicosidodecahedron. The lack of space still achieves eternity by fractalizing into deep dimensions. All five thousand real crop circles extraterrestrials have provided illustrate the vector equilibrium and the torus field in two dimensions. The I-Ching and the DNA’s 64 codons show mechanics of the vector equilibrium and the torus field. Earthlings figured out the message—that energy is everywhere, energy is free, energy can be tapped. Free energy can end poverty.

But greed had become insurmountable. Big Oil, Big Coal, Big Food, Big Pharma, Big Health and Big Banking perpetuated lies, widespread sufferings and deaths, for the few to rule on, the 99 percent chained to a sophisticated debt infrastructure and an educational system that nurtured cattle obedience.

The universe is the macrocosmic circle, everything else in it up to the cellular and subatomic levels spherical, fractalizing the limited space’s sine qua non of self-expression. Planet Earth is, like everything above and below it, an organism, following, in developmental biology, what one of them, Alan Turing, a British mathematician, described as morphogenesis. The activator-inhibitor duality present in all organisms, in the Turing System, is echoed across spiritual practices. Yin-yang is the universal concept of two opposing but complementary forces, tending to cancel each other out in the event of an imbalance. From the Turing System emerges the repeatedly observable universal return to balance. It’s elementary to extrapolate, from the Turing System alone, how inequity in the planet’s vaccination response to the Covid-19 pandemic would worsen the problem, considering the cyclic nature of propagation in limited space. For a zebra to be recognizable as a zebra visually, for instance, morphogens make sure that in pattern formation, a white stripe always follows a black stripe. In many ways the planet as organism operates like the stripes of a zebra’s body. Our dimensional sensors pinpointed the exact space-time collapse of the wave function (free will or choice taking over) when the COVID-19 virus mutated and became much deadlier—the time when wealthy nations started greedily cornering global vaccine supplies.

*

I was instructed to work with an alien species. Origins of friendly extraterrestrials sometimes traced back to the Sirius star system, sometimes to the Pleiades star system. They appeared as archangels I once suspected to be of the Nordic race. I gave it one last chance with their benign guidance. Mankind should now realize they’d never be allowed to cross over onto the next evolutionary stage, which would turn them into interdimensional beings outside space-time, unless they overcome their worst instincts. Guardians of the Milky Way have witnessed how destructive an alien civilization could be—like the Annunaki—if they attained interdimensional capabilities without overcoming the lower instincts. The Annunaki engineered the earliest human civilizations into slave races mining gold for them to use in repairing their planet’s atmosphere. The genetic fine-tune carried over across millennia, passed though generational links, long after the Annunaki had left. Human beings had since been easy to manipulate, like slaves who loved their own slavery, following fascistic savior-types that appealed to the ancestral memory, which had ingrained, of being gold-mining slaves. The archangels wanted to create scenarios for the majority of human beings, the so-called 99 percent of the human race, to relearn the Platonic-Socratic method of thinking for themselves, for evolutionary time towards spiritual maturity to shorten.

My task of sharing my perspectives turned complicated when climate change and the sixth extinction developed. I had become spiritually attached to animals, particularly dogs. I was given six dogs through whom four archangels—who called themselves Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel—taught novel things, passing on insights into the human condition. When I went past the age thirty-nine—my designated age for eternity—I remembered who I am, what role I was destined to play, which future from which I came. I had planned raising my own family, marrying my own wife and having my own children. But the complete recall of my role in saving Planet Earth changed my mind, changed everything. I heard stories about my girlfriend behaving like a deranged person after I said a sudden goodbye without explanation, especially since she was pregnant with our child, and we planned to tell our parents we’re getting married. My parents, two brothers and a sister searched for me when I vanished in 2008. When I reappeared two years later I disavowed all connections to them. My puzzled father offered material rewards to pull me back into the family. I couldn’t explain myself without sounding crazy. I had very important work to do, not even family could get in my way. I was determined to contribute, no matter how insignificant it turned out, to save the environment, animals and plant lives.

I had been sharing my unvarnished, unopinionated understanding of what was going on; but I could no longer countenance the greed that had become systemic and murderous. I asked to be replaced, spirited away like Enoch.

*

As I imprisoned myself in my room, before our travel back to our planet, I prayed for another chance, one last chance to be given to the human race. Despair was my companion. But I prayed and prayed, trusting in divine benevolence. I persevered, visualizing the last chance mankind deserved. I’d learned to love the generation forced to abandon the planet. They weren’t spirited away like the Mayans. In a very short time they pooled their creativity, resources and resourcefulness to develop the most efficient antigravity vehicle that enabled them to leave Earth before the catastrophe rivaling the flood and the asteroid impact that wiped out life on a planetary scale in distant pasts.

As grief held my heart, I prepared the ancient voice recorder. I planned to send my futile message to the generation of ’45—to those who had survived the great war. While saying my first words, the glass door vanished. Harris entered my room with someone, the door behind them reappearing.

“Luis, I want you to meet, Joe. The Council has decided to give it one last try. The moon won’t be dismantled, yet. This is Joe. He’s been chosen this time.”

Joe smiled and extended his hand. He’s twenty-something, I thought. A strong feeling that my prayers had been answered touched me.

After introducing myself I told Joe that he’d be, “…number 46. I will refer to you as 46, Joe. In the Akashic Field will exist the memory of you as our 46th emissary. Oh, it’s really strange this sudden realization. You will be the mirror image of 64—the divine number.”

“Thank you for your selflessness, Joe,” said Harris, her smile teary. “Luis, he will be born in 1942, in Pennsylvania in the United States. He will bring hope to our planet.”

*

On our way to my workstation I asked Joe his age.

“I’m twenty-five years old, almost twenty-six.”

“Is that your…”

“That is my age for eternity, twenty-five years old. I will be twenty-five years old for eternity. Why do you ask?”

“I remembered the human question regarding eternity. Would I be the child who died at birth upon entering eternity? Would I be fifty-one years old in paradise? Would I be the cancer patient when I leave this body behind? Would I be the truck driver when I earn my place in the Pleiades? It was the kind of recall I didn’t anticipate.”

“What do you think would I become?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea, Joe. Our current system allows you to choose your parents from twelve couples. When you pass your age of eternity, twenty-five, you’ll start remembering everything. If I may remind you ahead of time, for you to remember when the time comes, possibilities are countless. With each step you take you are presented with countless choices. Your choice will have the power to reshape pathways. Linear time is also a self-aware entity, and it reorganizes according to the choice you make.”

“I thought the problem of dimensional time has been solved generations ago. We now understand that before attaining eternity, each moment we live or live in, each moment we pass through, is just a possibility, subject to change. The journey will always be towards paradise, no matter which way we take.”

“Yes. The crudest form of quantum physics at least implies that. But the era you are visiting is by dint of collective consciousness still determined by linear time. And don’t forget, paradise isn’t the only final destination. There, too, is damnation that is final and everlasting.”

Joe nodded. We entered what humans of the distant past would have called war room. It was busy with extraterrestrial presence again, the decision to dismantle the moon postponed indefinitely. It was heartening to see spirit beings allowing us—the most recent participants, like trainees, of communal activities helping young civilizations evolve spiritually—to see them, bodiless but distinguishable with form. It was up to Joe now for things to change, for our chances of transcending our physical bodies at last and taking our place in eternity to become the only version of reality.

 

For Joseph Biden, 46th President of the United States

~