New Perspective: The Historian

Hope is merely a positive expectation of what may occur. For the vast majority of the population this hope remained in the Tri-Verse. Yes, the Tri-Verse meant that there were a few that were isolated and it meant that some had to be ostracized but overall it meant that the human race was capable of amazing things.

This hope floundered when Asa’s Projection was introduced. Labeled a Virus by the Church and The Miracle by the doubters it began the process of Resolution. Having a Resolution between the Disconnected, Excommunicated and Aborted members of that society and the Connected once seemed impossible. Why would these and the Connected even choose to be together? What would the slow pace of the Disconnected have to offer the Tri-Verse Connected Consciousness anyway? Why would the two have any need to be in communion? It not only seemed impossible but it seemed unnecessary. The two seemed destined to always be at odds.

The Projection meant that doubters felt free to think these things freely for the first time in hundreds of years. There were more doubts than the Church could handle- they simply did not know they existed before. They had no idea the breadth of these doubts. They had no idea how deep they ran through in their population. Like the tunnels that Asa was once lost in, they ran throughout their community and they ran deep. It opened the Church’s eyes. Where they were once blind they now had the opportunity to see. Freedom to doubt is a scary thing for Church whose control resides in the faithful. It was the freedom to doubt that would allow the church to relinquish control and in doing so grow in strength.

Freedom comes at such high costs. Lives can be lost, revolutions and wars can rage and many, in the process, may wander if the Church is even worth it all. Being Connected had become the birth rite for those in the Tri-Verse; what if it became a choice? Would its importance be squandered? Was there room for those Disconnected members in the Tri-Verse? Members saw these people as those that chose a life of poverty and ignorance. How did these even begin to fit into their community?

Members often forget that the Church isn’t theirs to begin with. The Projection was the spark for a cultural and religious revolution that would allow those to see a new perspective. Lives would be lost. A cold war would rage. Many many many members would wonder if their Connection was worth it at all. It would come to pass. And it would pass. All things pass. To understand how these things pass is the point of Historians. To understand why these things arrive at a certain place after passing is the point of these documents.

You may call me the Historian, most do. I am not a Historian. I am concerned with how we arrived at this place after the events passed. The Tri-Verse once thought being utopian only existed as long as those that did not fit the mold were not apart of the community. Today we know that the Quadrivium can only exit because we acknowledge without these communities we are less perfect, less whole and imcomplete.

The Beach

They were playing on the beach, taking in the sun. Asa looked down at his charge and saw her annoyance at having to be there at all. She was whiney and pushing boundaries and attempting to get her way. He knew that she loved him because he didn’t accept her whining, set clear boundaries and only let her get her own way when she had earned it.

“Uncle Asa, you know how I hate to go this slow. It’s infuriorating after being Connected. I do not know how you can stand it.. at least we could drive instead of walk?” She hated walking anywhere. He chuckled softly, “It is important Tamar, to take things slowly. It is important to understand how to move with clarity.”

She rolled her adoloscent eyes in his direction while his back was turned to look over the lake. “I see that Tamar” he said.

She giggled, “How do you do that Uncle Asa?” And she took his hand and pulled him down the beach at a faster pace. Laughing she asked, “Do you think the World will continue to get faster? Can it go any faster than it already does? Or will it get slower again like it did in the ancient times?”

Such was Tamar, ever inquisitiveness she had some of the strangest questions he’d ever heard. She often spoke with an old soul beyond her years. “Where does a question like that even come from Tamar?” he asked her gently as he slowed down the pace of their walk again.

Tamar shrugged. “I suppose it comes from the lessons in class today. They told us about the Disconnected, they told us they do everything the slow way. They told us that they are the last remaining strands of humanity that resist the truth. They told us that these people are poor, slow and uneducated because they choose to be. But why would anyone choose to be poor? Why would one want to be slow? It does not make any sense Uncle.”

Asa paused at the question. They stood, not walking, along the shores and he looked over at his beloved niece. He put his finger under her chin and brought her eyes to meet his. He searched them, he looked for their mercy, he looked for their understanding. She had all the right questions but he was not sure that she could bear the answers. Finally, when he could tell she was getting restless, he began to walk again. She watched him for a few steps and then jogged to catch up with him. She was used to long silences and strange gazes but she persisted anyway.

“Do you not know the answers to my questions Uncle Asa?”

He kept walking and stayed in his thoughts for a bit longer and finally he said, “I believe that you already know the answers or you would not have asked the question my dear niece.”

She stopped walking and watched him go ahead of her. “Asa” she said, dropping the formality as a way of getting his attention. “Will you always speak to me in riddles?”

“My dear” he said, “we have places to be. Let us hurry.”

Dark Passages

The first tunnel was a dud. Luckily they figured out it was caved in within a mile or so. They walked back slowly and decided to call it a night. They darkness meant that they could not be positive of the time but they knew it was long past the dinner hour and they were tired and exhausted. Asa handed out the cardboard-like bread rations. After passing round the water pitcher the children began to lie down. He heard a few of them sniffling past tears, weak attempts at hiding their fear.

Rueben sat next to the old abbot and spoke quietly. “Which Tunnel should we try next Abbot? Are there any clues as to which one would be better than the other?”

The Abbot sighed, “I do not know Rueben. Perhaps we should pray about it and make a decision in the morning.” Morning, thought Asa, when will ever see morning again?  He laid out his cloaks, lay on his back and stared at the old ceiling above him. His faith was shaken. Uncertainty plagued him. Once so full of faith he could stand on sand dune and stare at the sun and now so broken he had no direction- buried in this tomb. The night passed slowly.

Hours passed and he heard some of the children began to stir. He sat slowly and looked around. The few lights in shelter were beginning to flicker. It was time to move. He looked over at the younger priest, “Well Reuben, where does the Lord lead us?” Surprised, for the abbot was not one to relinquish the reigns of control, the priest pointed down one of the tunnels. “I believe I would go this way, Father.”

Asa nodded, “Let us go forward then” and he picked up the myriad of light-torches, gathered the children in a line and they began the treacherous journey into the depths of the earth. Asa led, the few adults in the middle and Reuben brought up the end. No more children would be lost; no adult would go unaccounted for. The darkness of the tunnel was absolute without their light-torches and they could not be recharged without sunlight. There was no way of knowing how long they’d last.

The tunnel was mostly clear of debris. Here and there parts of rock or old tools had been left behind but mostly the floor and walls seemed to have held up. The tunnel itself, narrow and short at the beginning started to widen as they moved on. By mid day the tunnel was a full six and half feel high and they could walk by twos. It was suffocating, the air had not moved there for a long time, the torches were only good for seeing right in front of ones feet. It was as though the darkness was snuffing them out.

As they walked Asa prayed. He wasn’t sure what he was praying for though and he didn’t bother to figure it out. He could hear the children talking, some crying, some stopping to use the restroom and the few adults were murmuring.  Little Rebekah walked next to him the whole way. None of her siblings had made it down; her mother and father too were absent. She was all alone.

Boaz and the Truth

Boaz stood just outside the door. Sound proofed and locked he had no idea what might be discussed in there. He knew if he played his cards write Shamuel would tell him eventually. He was breathing heavily and quickly, petrified that she somehow knew their secret. How could she have known?

It wasn’t as though priests had to submit to some antiquated ideal of purity. There were no standards of celibacy within the Papal Council any longer but to be physically intimate with a superior of the same sex was unacceptable. He knew it. Shamuel knew it. It occurred anyway. Only through mind exercises and consistent attention was he able to keep it from the Consciousness.

Homosexual relationships were not abnormal in normal society. A full third of marriages were now homosexual in nature but church leadership was expressly forbidden from these. It happened, of course but it was a well kept secret. Boaz had written a digital file during his priestly studies on the comparison of sexual scandal of the ancient church and sexual discrepancies now. It was quickly removed and he was told to put the thought away.

The young man sighed. She knew. He wondered what Shamuel would do to her or if he’d have the power to shut her up. Boaz leaned up against the wall. He was tall, just over six foot, and thin. He was not overtly muscular but his lean form demonstrated a strong build. He was not gangly. His dark hair and eyes gave him a serious look that fit her personality perfectly.

Fresh priestly tattoos shimmered down his right arm. They itched and were still fresh. They often took weeks of care to heal and he did not look forward to the process of doing his left arm. The silver inlays were merely microscopic connections laid into his skin with a tattoo gun over and over and over again. The skin would swell up around them to puffy proportions and pain reservers were prohibited. Training priests were taught meditation techniques to deal with pain and the process.

He subconsciously rubbed his right arm. The puffiness from the tattoos was mostly gone but he could still feel the connections slightly raised. The scar tissue would remain for a long time. He returned to his thoughts. He had kept it secret so long he stopped thinking about what it meant to keep a secret. But he thought about it now: it meant denying the Tri-Verse his true self. To keep it meant to break the very bonds of his Priestly duties. It meant to deny truth to those that sought Christ.

Shaking his head he pushed himself off the wall. He looked down at his feet and in that moment what he knew what his truth was. It was Priests like him that had allowed the breach to occur. The virus was a sign from the Creator. The Tri-Verse had been blasphemed because of those like him who had denied the followers truth. His realization devastated his spirit.

The Conversation.

She sat comfortably, she breathed evenly. She was not afraid; she had not lied about that. During her time of silence Tamar had realized many things. For one, she knew that what they called a virus was merely a message from her Uncle Asa. They had attempted to tell her again and again that it was a virus but she knew it was not intended to infect anything. She understood that what might be a virus for the Tri-Verse was merely a message to her. It was the first time in her life that what she was told by her superiors did not align with what she knew as her truth. It was the first time in her life that she had a truth separate from that of the Consciousness.

Her eyes blinked slowly and she looked at Shamuel from under long dark lashes.  At first, she had not been able to process it. The reason for her silence, at first, had been a mental break down. The pieces of reality had to be sorted through and understood. Like a puzzle, they were put back into place but now the picture had no edge pieces- there was no real beginning or end. She tilted her head to one side; much like a dog looking at a tv screen in wonder, and she stared at the man in front of her. He’d been close to Asa when she was young. She remembered now; she saw it clearly.

“Will you force me to ask the questions you know I must ask?” a long pause “Tamar?” She remained still but smiled slightly.

“Do you ever miss him Shamuel?”

Again, surprised at her lack of formality, he found himself off kilter.

“Tamar, my name is Father Shamuel and I am quite sure we did not come here to talk about myself.” He was firm, calm and resolute. He could not allow her to distract him from the goal. “Now tell me Tamar, what did you see when the virus attacked? What did it look like?”

She sighed and began playing with the rug under her feet. Pushing the pattern in the deep rug out of sync with the tip of her shoe. She looked up and stared into his eyes. “I really thought you’d be more intelligent than the others. Or, at least, I thought you’d have better questions. Aren’t you meant to be good at this sort of thing?” Her comments came off as petulant and rebellious. She was a child arguing with Asa all over again but now the argument would certainly mean the difference between life in the Tri-Verse and the life of the disconnected.

They stared each other down. Quickly he siad, “Did you see Asa, Tamar?” He asked it calmly with no hint of emotion and he did it as soon as the last syllable left her huffy comments. She was surprised and he knew he finally found a crack in her calm demeanor.

“Were you his lover Shamuel?”

The conversation had become a game of chess with quick important moves and long periods of silence waiting for the other to make a mistake. Answers were few, questions remained.

Into the Tunnels.

The old shelter offered ancient lights which ran on a modern generator that on the surface above.  The lights flickered as the bombs continued. Dust from the ceiling drifted down with each bomb that dropped from above. Children coughed and cried and Asa waited. How long they had been bombing he did not know. He prayed that they would stop.

It was no secret that Tri-Verse communities sent out drones to monitor the growth of the Disconnected. They must have known when the community was most vulnerable. They must have known when the children would be separated from their parents. They must have known when they could cause the most damage. Silent tears ran down Asa’s weathered and dusty cheeks. The dust and tears made mud that fell from his chin and onto Rachel’s head as she sat close to him in his lap.

She looked up at him. “Father Asa” she said gently, “Do not cry, God will give us a way.” He looked into her eyes and could barely still the swelling guilt that welled up inside of him. Would they ever forgive him if they knew he’d caused it? Just then, the lights flickered once more and then stayed on. The noises above quieted and the whining of the engines began to fade. The domed room with faint lights that had stood the test of time remained even still; these walls had been built for such an attack. He was impressed with the ancients- their foresight had saved the children.

Asa moved Rachel off his lap and stood. He motioned to the Father Reuben and they moved towards the stairway. As the children and the few adults watched they made their way up the steps to see if the door could be opened. Asa pushed up on the wooden door while the Reuben ensured the old abbot didn’t hurt himself. Anyone could see though that the door would not open; the town hall had crumbled all around it.

Reuben sat with Asa on the top step overlooking their dusty constituents below. Emergency foodstuffs were stored here for weather emergencies but it would only be enough for a few days. They spoke quietly to one another as they decided their next course of action.

“Abbot, perhaps it is time to seek out the tunnels.”

The Abbot was slow in responding but finally answered, “and what do we do Rueben? Starve in the belly of the earth with these children following us like blind mice?”

“Abbot, perhaps it is better that they starve in the belly of the earth then under the dead bodies of their families. We cannot give up yet.”

The tunnels were another testament to the ancients. They had built shelters that had dotted the landscape and connected them with tunnels. Many of the old shelters and most of the tunnels now stood below ruins of cities long abandoned by time and necessity. No one had mapped them or knew exactly where they went. They were dangerous and many of the tunnels had failed; still, one might offer an escape. It was their only hope.

Universal History 7.4

For as many millennia as is recorded the human race believed that it was their religion that gave them truth. Even in 2010 when the Networking Revolution began they still thought that religion was not determined by culture but by truth. 600 years later when Tamar and Asa entered the scene not much had changed.

You see, humanity does not learn from its mistakes very often. It is easier to believe that your truth will mean your success. However, reality dictates that your truth is little more than the culture you were raised with. It is rare then, that anyone within a culture dares to change it entirely. This not because many do not want to, they do, it is often because they do not even know the enemy they fight.

How can one fix a problem when they do not know what the problem is to begin with? You can try and kill a religion but another will pop up in its place. You can try and kill all religion but the same culture within the political sphere will remain or even grow further. Culture is the flow of life and religion and politics are merely the boats on that river. To destroy one does not change the path of others you put on its waters.

Interestingly enough it would be a young priestess who finally saw the river for what it was. She saw past the Tri-Verse, she saw past Asa’s extremism and she saw past all the other boats in her line of sight. For the first time, she saw the river. It was not the educated elite, the priests of religious renown or even those that asked the deeper questions who would finally see. Isn’t that the way though? Those that see are often perceived by their society as blind.

It wasn’t until Tamar’s death much later that the world understood. She knew better than to let them know too soon. It was in her writings and video images that the world was taught a gentler way. The Disconnected were not dumb but neither were the Connected disillusioned.  It was in their unwillingness to see the other as necessary to the greater whole that they failed. As though the hand was telling the stomach it should be a hand and trying to destroy it when it was not able to do so. The body of the church, for a while, attacked itself.

Many say we had to know true suffering in order to become what we are today. I am not so sure. Regardless, in her passing, new life began to arise but in the midst of her life great suffering occurred. Great loss. It was darker than Medieval Age. It was disease, warfare and struggle. Changing culture is much like changing the course of a river. Seemingly impossible and always difficult; when not done properly it may cause great destruction. So it was with the Networking Revolution. So it was within the Tri-Verse.