"This may become a regular broadcast, that was really pretty." I feel good. My support staff seem jazzed too.
Back when I first wrote this down back on May 28th, 2014, I had already collapsed back down into being content with everything, just the way it was. I have forgotten all about having written all this down, which I had done with an eye to the future. It seemed that after each horrible hallucination, I was happy to go back to wanting nothing. I was an early retiree. I had free time to document my research, as well as write this odd piece of spiritual fiction. I knew that no one was ever interested in either my "Confessions of a Professional Psychic or in "The Surreal Novella." My math art graphics did end up on t-shirts however.
But as I had written, certain people, certain very wise people had experimented with the recommended spiritual technologies as I had, and had ended up with their own very extreme results too. I had left out the actual yoga techniques and technologies. I could not supervise or protect others from unadvised risks.
"The Bridge Between the Worlds" had faded back into the fog. The Nada closed it's dream eye and went back to sleep. "The Voice of Truth" went back into it's bottle. I had found that the ghost traps were all empty and there was no reason for me to keep on channeling since I had already found everything I had ever wanted anyways. Life became nothing more than a maintenance proposition. Because these spiritual technologies are well used solutions to ancient queries, I got to see all of my problems melt in on themselves like a fallen souffle. Except for wanting the best for myself and everyone else, I wanted for nothing. I chased away all of my clients. I stuffed my matrices with informational currency. (Sorry, math joke.) I believe acceptance is motivationally disorienting, and is therefore Buddha's Revenge. Those of us who should be worried about the world and it's salvation are so blissed out that we trust deeply. Not being angry. Not being unhappy. I was doomed to succeed.
Which has brought me to where I am today. Gretchen approaches me directly to tell me, "There's a young woman at the desk for you." "Her name's Jennifer and she said you'd know who." "She looks familiar but I can't remember where I've seen her before, she isn't that crazy woman who tried to take credit for your P. P. I. is she?"
"Thanx Gretch, I met her this morning, but now that you mention it I wonder if you're right." "Wow, that would be strange." After such a bizarre twenty four hours I'm feeling refreshed. Weird. My chest is sore from restarting my heart, but I feel robust. Clear and clean. Dinnertime.
And Gretchen adds, "Good news, the boards of both Inter Space and Oraca have canceled their anti trust suits against us." "They've regained all of their lost stock as well as getting back orders for our social programming modules." "Crisis averted, who would have thought that something you wrote twenty years ago would turn into a spiritual bonanza here at the edge of the universe?" "Good show, and by the way, is that really the way your story went?" I shrug, I'm just as confused as anyone. I start out back into the compound, past the offices, through the dining hall, out to the lobby. There's Jennifer, I remember.
"Your J. J." "Jennifer Juniper." I offer my hand, she rises and is beautiful, smiling, and happy to see me, we join hands. "We never did meet." "Wow, I'm so sorry my business departments had to sue you for copyright." "Your work made us famous." I think I am in love.
"Oh stop," she says. "I was just keeping it warm for you." "It was never mine anyways."
