helloooo out there

I haven't had a chance to look at this blog for a long time. Is anyone still out there?

Excerpt from The Unknown Battle of Krndsdell, Chapter 5

Marzena stood perfectly still, so that in the half-light she was indistinguishable among all of the manikins. He has somehow found this place. Yes, found--the man seemed to be searching as he walked among the trellises, weaved in and out among the statuesque figures. His meandering path seemed random, yet was he getting, on average, closer? Yes, he's a little closer now. Marzena felt a thrill of realization run up her spine. She grasped the little leather pouch hanging around her neck. The Elders will question me, but I will tell them I had no other choice.

She heard footsteps behind her. Not taking the time to look back, with her shaking hands Marzena opened the drawstring on the pouch and searched the contents blindly with her fingers. In spite of her pounding heart she managed to find the second finger-trox. Just then a hand grabbed her shoulder and in a mad panic she slipped the finger-trox into place. In a moment the world around her dissolved and she felt a thrill of acceleration as another world congealed around her.

Marzena now was in a forest, surrounded by trees and foliage--in the exact places where the manikins and trellises had stood. She could still feel a hand on her shoulder and turned now to confront her would-be captor. "You!" she called out in surprise.

The young man blinked his eyes in complete disorientation. "What, how? . . . Where are we?"

Marzena pushed him away. "Why were you following me? I thought you were --"

He was shaking his head. "No, no, I'm not . . ."

Marzena eyed him coldly. "I recognize you now, from the gathering--you were among the cloddses. I remember you . . . but only because of your foolish speaking out of turn. Who are you? You followed me. You actually touched me! Do you know that you have caused me to use a trox, to reveal what should remain hidden? You have threatened the very quarm itself. I must take you back to Leddger to be . . ."

"Wait!" the young man said. "I only approached you because I saw the man, he was searching for you among the mannikins. You were in danger. I only touched you because I wanted to get your attention without making any noise."

Marzena realized she had been confused in her fear and panic. It's true, there must be two separate men involved--the other man was a distance away from me when I felt the touch on my shoulder. "We are safe here," she said. "We have experienced a type-2 transformation to a place completely sealed off from the Durggs. Everything that was there is here, but it is all in a different form now. And that includes the man who was stalking me. He must be here, too. We must try to find him and bring him to Leddger for questioning--if we can recognize him--he will appear very different here because he was not in contact with me at the transformation, as you were. But he cannot threaten us here."

Marzena led the way as they began to walk among the trees, looking carefully at every tree, every piece of foliage. She began to be troubled, as she could find no indication of the man anywhere. "This is not right," she said, and then decided to turn to a lesser mystery: "Now tell me, how did you find your way into the Warehouse?"

"It's true, I followed you. I have been trying to talk to you since the night of the gathering. I know it was foolish to think that . . . you are . . . Well, my name is Taln."

Marzena dismissed the introduction. "How did you get into the Warehouse? It is invisible to all Uninvited."

"I don't know," said Taln. "It was easy. I just . . . followed you."

Taln is an Undiscovered. He knows the quarm without knowing it. Marzena looked at him, but gave no hint of what she was thinking.

Excerpt from The Unknown Battle of Krndsdell, Chapter 22

It couldn’t go on indefinitely. Taln heard the lock click and the door to his cell opened. He squinted in the sudden flood of light. A figure entered, almost glided in. Taln did not move, did not acknowledge his captor.

The man gestured, pointing a finger at Taln. “You are the first person who ever found us. You must be very clever. The punishment for this, of course, is death. But we have decided to offer you the opportunity to determine your outcome yourself.”

Nothing. There’s nothing I can say to you that would work to my advantage.

“We know who you are. We know all about you.”

How could they know who I am? It’s impossible with the precautions I took. I must not respond to him in any way.

The man smiled, cocked his head to the side a little. “Don’t worry about your wife, she’s doing fine. We can make sure no one does her any harm.”

Give no reaction. He’s bluffing.

“You don’t believe we have found her? Well I have brought you something of hers . . . let’s just say, as evidence of our serious intentions.” He reached his hand out towards Taln, showing him a little bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. He opened up the handkerchief for Taln to see.

Taln had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It can’t be! Marzena’s finger-troxes. Oh, how I miss Marzena! And now they have taken her too! How could they have known where she was? But wait. . . does he have all twelve of the troxes? He tried to count the troxes in the man’s hand without appearing to be too interested. Of course his captors couldn’t know anything about the quarm.

“If you choose to tell us nothing, then we will do nothing to protect Marzena from . . . whatever might happen to her," the man smiled. "If you help us we will help her. If you scorn us we will scorn her. As I promised, here’s your opportunity to determine the outcome. Now, will you cooperate with us?”

He has only ten of the finger-troxes! He must have no idea of what he's got! And those troxes must have been taken from Marzena no more than fourteen days ago--when I was last with her. So I must stall, stall, as much as possible.

The man looked at Tron impatiently. "Well, what is your answer, will you cooperate?"

Taln was hardly paying attention, as he was realizing all of the implications. At some time, the remaining two troxes will slip into Resonance, and if I am vigilant, their momentary unphasing will enable me to access the power of the Third Frelzn before the final dissolution of the remaining troxes drains the energile reservoir. So . . . I must stall him--pretend to cooperate, however much it galls me to submit to him, and watch for the precise moment of the Third Frelzn. It's the only way to save Marzena.

Taln looked up at the man. “Please don’t hurt Marzena,” he pleaded. “What do you want from me?”

The man smiled and clasped his hands together. “Tell me how you found us. You should not have been able to do this. No one has ever found us.”

Taln didn’t want to even hint about the quarm. That was the one thing they must not ever know. “I learned about your whereabouts from my readings in the Library of Gleb,” Taln said.

“Liar!” the man retorted. “There is nothing in any of the books in the Library of Gleb that even remotely speak of time directionality. You can’t have learned anything there. Now, we’ll try this again: How did you find us?”

Time directionality? So this is why they can never be caught! Not in my wildest dreams have I ever thought that they used time directionality. I must get him to reveal more about this.

Taln shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, we have known about time directionality for quite some time. We have just thought it more useful to develop the stronger potential of time dimensionality instead.” Phew! what a mouthful of nonsense. Can he tell I’m making it up as I go along?

The man stood looking at Taln for almost a minute, considering. “Hmm . . .time directionality versus time dimensionality. I think you are bluffing,” he said finally. “You have developed no science of time dimensionality—We would surely have detected it. My people have been trained from birth in the subtleties of time. As children, we play with quantas of time as your children play with crude blocks. When your children are learning to walk, our children are learning to walk backwards, to talk backwards, to do facial expressions and hand gestures in reverse, so we can invade your counter-world, and your people never guess our true nature—that we move in the opposite direction in time as you are. No, you cannot fool me when talking about time.”

Why is he telling me all this, revealing his true nature? He must plan on killing me after I tell him what he wants to know. I must somehow last long enough to access the Third Frelzn.

“No, I am not satisfied with your cooperation,” the man said, shaking his head. “At any rate, I must leave now, as my intersection with your time has reached a maximum. I must head now into your past.” He smiled. “But I can assure you that the next one who comes in my place will bring more news of Marzena--bad news, I'm afraid. . . And, ah yes, news of the quarm.” He smiled, and was suddenly gone.

They know about the quarm! How could they?! But . . . do they? Perhaps that's exactly what they are trying to learn from me. The only hope I have is to hold on until the eruption of the Third Frelzn.

Why all three?

Why are we baptized in the name of all three members of the Godhead?

One possible answer relates to how we are to become like them:

Because we are to become one as they are one--we are to join them in their divine nature. In John 17:11, 21-24, the Father and Son's oneness is given as a model for us, their intention being that we participate with them in some way.

(John 17:11.)
11 And now I am no more in the world, but these are in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are.

(John 17:21-24)
21 That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.
22 And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one:
23 I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.
24 Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world.



I find that the closer you read the Book of Mormon, the more you will be rewarded. I see a progression of ideas from the baptismal prayer, to the oneness of the Godhead, to our need to be one, in the Savior's instructions in 3rd Nephi. Consider the progression of ideas laid out in 3 Nephi 11: [For the sake of saving space here I have not pasted in all the scriptures involved, but it is worthwhile to look at all these verses carefully.]

11:25 the baptismal prayer, mentioning all the members of the Godhead

11:27 "after this manner shall ye baptize . . . for behold . . ." (Jesus is going to explain why): Then follows a discussion of oneness of the Godhead, in the context of explaining why people are to be baptized in the name of all three. So there is a direct link between the baptismal prayer and the fact that the Godhead is one. Then the train of thought continues:

11:28-30 warning not to contend (not to destroy oneness among people).

11:29 the devil is the "father" of contention, contrasting the Father who enables our becoming one.

11:32, 35-36 more about the oneness of the Godhead.

11:37-38 repent, be baptized and become as a little child: the process is to begin.


If this line of thinking is right, then a major purpose of this life is that we learn to become one (which also relates to being full of charity). How, then, would a constant remembrance of one's baptismal covenant, and whose name it was done in, affect how seriously we work at becoming one at home (and in other applicable situations) and finding a way to overcome contention?

What do you think?

I Confess

I thought I'd recommend this movie. We watched it last weekend (checked out from the library) and enjoyed it. It's not the typical Hitchcock thriller-- it's more thoughtful than suspenseful. You should watch it if you've never seen it!

A mom, a gate attendant, and a man

The tired and disheveled mother sat in the airport terminal that had been her home for the past twelve hours and thirteen minutes. Not that she was counting.  Her eyes were open, but just barely enough to allow her to watch the terminal monitor for the arrival of the next plane.  The mother looked down. At her feet lay her nine month old son, sleeping angelically in his car seat.

I need to clean that seat once we get home, she thought.

Dried pureed yams, green beans, roasted salmon, and, what was that brownish yellowish stuff, oh yeah, bananas, spotted the seat like the bottom of a birdcage spotted with the unmentionables.  Then there were the contents of the twelve ounce box of Cheerios that must be in there somewhere, because he certainly hadn't eaten those very successfully either.

“Ma’am. Ma’am?” said a southerly female voice.

The mother looked up and saw the gate attendant she had spoken with earlier.  “Yes?” the mother replied.

“I’m sorry.” The attendant paused just for a moment, “but we are unable to transfer your ticket.  You will have to pay for a new ticket to get on the next available flight.”

The mother’s eyes grew wide while she suppressed the tears that were building up.

No, no tears, she thought.  

“But I did pay for a ticket.  The one I gave you earlier.  It hasn’t been used. What about the money I used to pay for that ticket?” The last line she said more to herself than to the attendant.

“I’m sorry, but your current ticket is non-refundable and non-transferable.  If it was our fault you missed your flight I may be able to do something, but...”

The mother stopped listening. There was no more money.  The last of what was available on her credit cards was used for this hopeful trip.  She had already borrowed so much from her friends. No one was at home to call. No one.

“Now boarding area A for flight 707 to Phoenix,” the gate attendant said over the loudspeaker.  When had she left?

The mother couldn’t help it; a tear, maybe two, made it out and she sniffled and batted her eyes to prevent them from turning into more.  Still the baby slept angelically at her feet. 

Turning her head so the gate attendant wouldn’t see her tears, she saw a man sitting a little ways off. He had his head down, and he was rubbing his empty hands.  He seemed to be so anxious to get on the flight.  The flight she needed so desperately to get on to get home, to end this whole trip and to clean this stupid car seat!

“Now boarding areas A and B for flight 707 to Phoenix.”

The man got up at this announcement and walked toward the gate.  At least he has something to be anxious about, thought the mother.  She noticed though that instead of entering the gate he went to the desk and spoke with the same gate attendant she had spoken with earlier.  Curious, she watched intently as he handed the attendant some papers, then took some papers from the attendant and walked away.  As he left, he put his left hand in his pocket and pulled out an object.  A coin?  A marble?  What would a grown man be doing with a marble?  No, it looked most like a ring. But before she could be certain he was gone.

The mother turned her head toward the gate again and she saw the gate attendant coming toward her. When she got to the mother she said, “We have a ticket you can use for you and your baby.”

“But,” responded the mother.  “I have no money.”

With a smile the gate attendant replied, “You won’t need money for this ticket.  The man that was sitting just over there transferred his ticket to you.”

She opened her mouth to explain that she had never seen that man before in her life, but, but nothing came out.

 

****

The mother was now seated in the plane with the baby in her arms still sleeping angelically.  Her mind pondered the miracle that had just happened and she allowed more than one, maybe two tears to fall down her cheeks.

Trapped

Celia felt trapped. She didn’t want to be here! These people were smelly, awkward, and in need of so much care.  Their speech was slow, and often you couldn’t tell what they were trying to say. Celia knew she should change the negative view she kept of the residents of Hartley’s Home for the Disabled, but why did it matter what she thought as long as she smiled and appeared to be helpful? Her job paid well, and she cared more about that then how uncomfortable and boring it was here.

“Mskljdoij!” shouted the wheel chair ridden woman she was helping, whose crossed eyes looked accusingly at her, as though she knew Celia’s thoughts. Celia looked straight into the crossed eyes with a smug expression and thought You’re stuck with me just like I’m stuck with you. But at least I look normal and don’t drool all over myself. And I get to leave whenever I want.

“Would you like another crayon to draw with, Anna?” asked Celia, her tone dripping with insincerity.

A man entered the room as Anna took the crayon. He looked like he could be one of the doctors at Hartley. He seemed vaguely familiar.

“It’s time to go, Celia.” He said gently.

“Excuse me?” asked Celia.

“We thought maybe you could handle it in here.  Unfortunately we were too optimistic. You’re getting worse. This isn’t the place for you.” When she looked at him in confusion, he stepped closer to where she was sitting.

 “What are you talking about? Who are you- who let you in here?” Celia stood up. The man stood between her and the door. He was watching her.

“Please come now, we don’t want any trouble,” He took a deep breath, ”We're here to help you.” She felt he wanted her to choose to come, and yet she felt strangely like she didn’t have a choice.

Celia tried to get to the door by slipping around him. He quickly captured one of her arms and brought out a syringe from one of his long white coat pockets.

“What is this- get away from me! Help! Someone help!”

The world swirled into darkness.

 *  *  *  *

Celia woke up groggy. The room around her had four plain white walls and she had a bed stand with a lamp. Where am I? She thought. A woman dressed in a uniform came in with a tray.

“How are you feeling today, Celia?” The woman seemed sincere, which comforted Celia.

“Where am I? Did I have a break down or something?” Celia asked.

“No. You’re in a place where you can get help.”

“Why would I need help? What are you talking about?”

“You're different than others, Celia.” The woman’s tone was patient.

“How am I different?” Celia asked anxiously. She unconsciously checked to see if all her toes were still there.  

“You are almost completely blind. We have brought you here to see if we can teach you to use what you have left of your sight. You may one day be independent if you work hard.”

Celia didn’t know what to say. She looked around the room, positive that she saw everything like she always had. “I’ve always had good vision. I can still see everything. What are you talking about?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but there are things you can’t see. It’s such a hard thing to accept. I know this is a shock. Rest now and we will talk more about it later.” The woman left the room. Celia heard a lock slide into place after the door closed.

The days that followed were full of frustration for Celia. The man with the long white pockets came into her room each day and talked to her about what she couldn’t see. He said there were big paintings on the walls, and a big dresser on the other side of her bed. He also claimed there was a big window that showed a great view of the grounds. Celia couldn’t see any of it. The woman that had brought her food confirmed what the man said. They allowed Celia to use the bathroom, which was next door to her room. Whenever she had to go she was instructed to use a small buzzer they placed on her lamp stand. The hall outside her room was long and white with a lot of doors.

Days turned into weeks. They allowed Celia to sit in other rooms, and color or write if she wanted to. They always talked about other things in the room that they said she couldn’t see. None of the rooms had any windows. She never saw anyone else. She tried to escape a few times, but they were always quicker and once they had to give her a shot like before.

On a day in the beginning of her third week there, she was on her way to the bathroom when she suddenly saw a figure in a wheel chair slide out of one of the doors down the hall. It was Anna! Celia almost cried at the sight of the cross-eyed woman.

“Dear, didn’t you say you had to go to the bathroom?” the woman who brought food suddenly came closer behind her. She didn’t seem to notice Anna.

“I want to go to the next room please. I’d like to color.” Celia’s mind raced. Anna was smiling at her, waving. Celia suddenly broke into a run. The woman yelled at her to stop, but Celia reached Anna before the woman could catch up to her.

“Anna! Anna! Please help me! They won’t let me go!” Celia said in her few precious moments before the woman reached her.

Anna looked at her sadly. “You feel trapped too? We all feel like that sometimes. But think about it, at least they take care of you and try to teach you how to cope with your disability. You’ll get used to it. You’ll find yourself happier the more you are here.” She wheeled back into the room she came from.

Celia became hysterical as the woman grabbed her arms and led her back to her room. “I want to be free!” she yelled to anyone who could hear, “I don’t care if I’m different!”