“I was in advertising,” I said.
He nodded. “We are in similar fields then. We both are engineers of the mind. Are you a religious man?”
“Not particularly.”
“Do you believe in a God?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe in the Bible?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“You think so?” He gazed intently into my eyes. “Have you even read it?”
“Parts,” I admitted.
He shook his head condescendingly. “Parts,” he said. “Then you do not really believe it. Or, at least, that it might lead to your eternal salvation. Otherwise you would cling to it as an overboard sailor clings to a life ring.” He lifted his glass of wine and drank. “Unlike you, I’ve read the Bible more times than I can remember. I’m more fascinated by it each time I read it. As I said before, the truth of the Bible must be understood in context.”
He leaned toward me. “The Bible is as ancient as time, but more modern than ours. To the enlightened, the book describes spaceships and interstellar beings, rocket launches, weapons of mass destruction, holograms and, most importantly, the origin of the species.”
“What species?” I asked.
“Our species, of course. You see, the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, it’s all truth, contextually shaded, but as truthful as today’s newspaper.” He grinned. “Actually, given the state of today’s media bias, more truthful. In fact, DNA evidence has proven conclusively that our entire species descended from a single female. This isn’t conjecture, it’s proven fact. The idea that mankind gradually descended from monkeys is intellectually absurd. What do you think of that?”
“I think most scientists would disagree with you.”
He smiled. “Only the foolish ones. You see, scientists are just as dogmatic as the religious. Maybe more so. They rarely change their minds, they just die off and the next generation’s thinking emerges. The difference between them and me is that I have a viable explanation for the species and they don’t.
“You see, even the most ardent Darwinist must admit that there is a fundamental flaw in his belief when it comes to the evolution of human beings. For millions of years, hominids, a half-ape, half-man beast, roamed the world. Then suddenly, boom”—he flourished his hands dramatically—“there are homo sapiens. Intelligent, self-aware, language-speaking beings capable of building pyramids, advancing complex mathematical formulas, understanding advanced aerodynamics and mapping the universe. They even performed successful brain surgery. Yes, there was successful brain surgery more than a thousand years ago. We have the archeological evidence.”
He shook his head. “What a culture we live in. We are swimming in an ocean of information, and drowning in ignorance. In the late 1800s archeologists discovered the ancient Sumerian cuneiform texts, writings of earth’s oldest-known civilization. When scholars translated their writings, what they discovered surprised them. The Sumerian tablets actually agreed with the Old Testament; the genesis of the earth, the Garden of Eden, even the story of Noah and the Great Flood. Of course, even the oldest Chinese writings, carved into tortoiseshells, tell of the great flood. You do believe in Noah and his ark, don’t you?”
“Not literally,” I said.
His brow fell with disappointment. “If not literally, then how?”
“Noah’s ark isn’t feasible. You couldn’t carry that many creatures and their food in a boat ten times the size the Bible describes.”
El grinned. “You could, of course, if you were carrying their DNA.”
“DNA?”
“Exactly. Truth, my friend, is found in the gray space between religion and science.”
“DNA wasn’t discovered until the 1950s.”
“No, that’s when it was rediscovered. We modern humans want to believe that we are at the pinnacle of evolution and intellectual thought.” He said this with a mocking grin. “So we conveniently ignore everything counter to that belief, including architectural marvels that are thousands of years old that we cannot duplicate today. We are not more intelligent. Greater cultures have lived and died, not just in the universe, but on this planet.
“Did you know that in 1913 a farmer in a tiny South African town called Boskop discovered a skull unlike anything anyone had seen before? It was so unusual that it made its way to the top scientists and anthropologists around the world. What was so unusual about the skull was its dimensions. The skull was larger than ours, but its face was smaller. In fact, it was less apelike than we are. You might have seen these pictures—they’re the same face we see in people’s descriptions of today’s aliens.
“At first, scientists thought that these skulls might be an anomaly, an aberration, caused by a disease, like hydrocephalus, or some such thing. But this theory was quickly disproven when scores of similar skulls were discovered.
“These beings had brains twenty-five percent larger than ours. Scientists estimate that their average IQ would be close to 150, which means, on average, they were geniuses.” He leaned forward. “Do you understand what I’m saying? They were smarter than us. They were more advanced than us. We are an intellectual step backward.” He leaned forward again. “If you still haven’t caught my deeper meaning, let me spell it out for you, Alan. They were not us. We are not alone.” He studied my eyes for my reaction. “The evidence is everywhere, carved into the records of our earth. On every continent there are carvings and hieroglyphs of spacemen and spaceships. They are described in great detail in the Bible. Just open to Ezekiel.”
“You’re talking about aliens,” I said. “You believe in UFOs?”
“My belief system isn’t predicated on faith. I have knowledge. And the term UFO is a misnomer. The crafts you’re referring to aren’t really unidentified flying objects if they’ve been identified, are they?”
“Are you saying that you’ve seen them?” I asked.
“Seen them, touched them, with gloves, of course, they’re remarkably hot once they’ve traveled in our atmosphere, I’ve even been inside them. But it’s not the crafts—it’s the pilots I find most intriguing. Seeing them for the first time, if you don’t wet yourself, is a mind flush. Trust me, everything you think you know about the world is immediately down the toilet. The first time I saw them, it took me days to stop shaking.”
I just looked at him.
“Of course you’re skeptical. It’s safer that way. But believe me, they are as real as you or me.”
“You’re telling me that you’ve seen an alien from another planet?”
He smiled. “I’ve sat in councils with them. I would say that we are, intellectually, like children next to them, but I would be doing them a disservice in the representation. We are more like apes, our spiritual and mental development so rudimentary, it would be like enrolling a chimpanzee in advanced Harvard physics and theology classes. Their translators speak our crude language so exquisitely, it’s like listening to Mozart.” He leaned forward. “Let me teach you something, Alan. Have you ever wondered why it is that whenever there’s a major technical breakthrough, it seems to appear around the globe at the same time—advancements like the pyramids, the airplane, the electric filament or radio waves? That’s because when the Guardians believe our species is ready to advance the idea is released to us.”
“Guardians?”
“That’s what I call them, but that’s only because our inefficient language doesn’t have the proper title for them. They call themselves the Ahn, which roughly means ‘parent’ or ‘enlightened caregiver.’ But most people just call them God. The truth is, they are a collective—a fully cohesive society.”
“You’re telling me that Marconi and the Wright brothers spoke to aliens?”
El grinned. “Heavens, no. As brilliant as those men were, they weren’t ready. Even Moses had to view them through a holographic light wave transmission, which he, out of ignorance, called a burning bush. The Guardians don’t need to reveal themselves to teach us. They have their means of feeding
our minds. It’s fascinating, really, a technologically produced telepathy. Think of it as a mental download. They’ll seed a half dozen people at the same time with the same revelation, and let them compete to come out first with the invention—much the same way a farmer will overplant his field to ensure a bountiful harvest.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Alan, I know this is difficult for you to accept. Changing a paradigm is never easy. But think about it. There is nothing more globally ubiquitous than the belief in extraterrestrial existence. The president of Russia spoke of aliens living among us, President Kennedy was caught on tape talking about secret alien captures, even Jimmy Carter publicly claimed to have seen a flying saucer. What surprises me is that you, or anyone else, would be surprised. Or, in this age of ‘reason,’ insist on living in denial.
“It is, perhaps, the only common ground that religionists and scientists share, both fighting to defend the indefensible argument that we are alone in the universe. And why? Because they don’t want to know the truth.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to know the truth?” I said. “It’s in their best interest.”
El laughed. “Is it? Forgive my amusement, but for an advertising man you have a poor understanding of the human mind, Alan. People have always preferred mystery to truth. Most people don’t even know the truth of their own beliefs. Ask them about the inner workings of their own religion or their religion’s history and they pull their heads in like turtles. It’s understandable. Religion is like sausage—it’s best not to know what goes into it.” He laughed again. “But there are those who are not afraid of the truth. People like you and me. It is our obligation and burden to act as shepherds to guide the flock.”
Just then, the blue-haired man brought out our dinner. Sliced turkey breast, cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes and gravy. I was as glad for the distraction as I was for the food.
“Ah, time to eat,” El said.
“Looks like Thanksgiving dinner,” I said.
“We are thankful,” El said. “Our path is the way of gratitude. Please, allow me to give thanks for this food.”
He raised his hands above his head and said in a loud voice, “Our God, who looks favorably upon thy chosen vessels, we praise Thee for thy goodness and power and our knowledge of Thee, the only truth, the only way, the only salvation. In the name of He who is worthy of worship throughout the universe, Jesus the Christ, Amen.”
A chorus of “amens” filled the room. El looked at me. “Please, partake. The food is delicious. DarEl was a chef at the Four Seasons New York before he was enlightened.”
El was right, about the food at least. Everything was exceptional. Thankfully, my host allowed me a moment to eat in silence. As I ate, I observed what was going on around the room. There was a bank of tables near one side where a dozen or more people were sitting with headphones on. There were others reading, all from the same book, a hardcover volume with a bright red and gold cover. A few others were cleaning. Everyone was busy.
A few minutes later I pointed to the group of people with headphones. “What are they listening to?”
El turned around to look at them. “Sermons. They listen for three to four hours a day. Usually after they finish their chores.”
“Whose sermons?”
“Mine, of course.”
“And the red books?”
“The Celestial Scripture. Prophecies I’ve received, including those of the last days before Christ returns and the earth receives its nuclear baptism of fire.”
“Then you believe Christ will return?”
“Of course we do. And what a sight it will be, when legions of crafts in the thousands and tens of thousands descend upon the earth, ushering in a new age of power and glory. The AhnEl will be there to assist in the transference of that power. Then we will be called up to our rightful place, and the kings and queens of this earth will be as our servants and our enemies will be as dust.”
I gestured to the people in the room. “These people?”
“They shall rule the world.”
“Where are they from?”
“The earth, of course.”
“I assumed that.”
“Assume nothing,” El said. “They are the children of light. They are like the first stars in the twilight sky before nighttime is upon us and the fullness of the galaxy is seen in all its brilliance. But these are only a few of the enlightened. I have thousands of followers, in dozens of countries. I have nearly a hundred ordained missionaries out gathering the pure in heart, those not so darkened by their lusts and fears to hear truth. They are out seeking the tinder that is ready for the spark of enlightenment to blaze in their hearts and souls.”
“These followers will do whatever you say?”
“I am their teacher and representative to the Guardians. Though, truthfully, I am merely a substitute teacher, filling in until the real teachers arrive—the Gods hasten that day! They could step in anytime. They are all around us. They have been for millennia.”
“Your followers seem . . .” I hesitated.
El squinted. “They seem what?”
“. . . Brainwashed.”
His expression turned fierce. “Do you even know what that term means?”
“People whose brains have been coercively washed clean by some outside force,” I said.
“. . . And filled by another? Or should I say, programmed by another. You, of all people, should not be casting stones,” he said, his voice ripe with disgust. “An advertising man.”
“Our job was to inform,” I said.
He laughed. “Is that what you told yourself?” He leaned on one elbow. “Your job was to change behavior to profit your clients. Am I right?”
“Yes,” I relented.
“My motives are much more pure. I’m informing these people of the truth and providing them a practical structure in which the truth can flourish. Tell me, do these people look unhappy?”
I had to admit that they looked content. “No.”
“Their service to me, is it beneath them?”
“Some would say—”
He pounded his fist on the table. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not talking about some ambiguous cultural psychobabble. What do you say, Alan?”
His sudden outburst unnerved me. “Making others serve you seems self-serving.”
He looked at me for a moment, then said with a softer voice, “Fair enough. But it is in losing themselves that they find themselves. It is in their service that they find use and meaning. Do you think they are suffering?”
“I don’t know.”
He tilted his head. “Then why don’t you ask them? AshEl,” he said, motioning over a young, strawberry-blond woman. She walked over to us, knelt at El’s feet and kissed them. “Yes, Master.”
“This Earthman wants to know if you are suffering.”
“Suffering?”
“Yes, he’s afraid you might be suffering here,” he said. “You may speak to him.”
She looked at me with a vacant expression. “Why would you think I’m suffering? Outside these walls the world is full of confusion and hate. For the first time in my life I feel peace.” She turned back to El. “My master is to be praised for my salvation.”
“Tell the Earthman about your life in the dark.”
“I was an exotic dancer and an alcoholic. For the first time in my life I’m free.” She again kissed El’s feet.
He ran his hand over the crown of her head. “Thank you, AshEl. You may wait for me in my pod.”
A large smile crossed her face. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”
She glanced back at me, then ran off.
“Suffering?” El said. “She’s never been happier.”
“What about the woman I met by the road?”
“Her sanctification is the most important thing she’s done in her previously inconsequential life, as it is for all of them. I take their mental and spiritual anarchy and organize it, even as the Gods o
rganized the chaos of space into this world and universe. I’m giving them order. And with it, joy, freedom and peace.”
“I can see peace,” I said, “maybe even a sense of happiness, but freedom?”
“Definitely freedom. Freedom from the burden of choice. The human mind, cynical as it may be, is seeking to be controlled. And, when you understand the mechanics of the human brain as the Guardians do, it is a very easy thing to control. Even one as intelligent as yours.”
I said nothing and he looked at me with a dark, wry stare. “Well done, Alan. You’re as wise as I thought.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You didn’t say that you couldn’t be controlled. Ironically, the most susceptible to mind control are precisely those who don’t believe they are susceptible.”
My head was hurting. “Are you saying that your followers will do anything you say?”
He looked at me for a moment, then said, “Anything and everything. As they should.”
“Would they kill for you?” I immediately regretted asking the question, realizing that I might have endangered myself.
His eyes turned dark. “I would not ask.” Then, to my relief, his expression softened. “Enough of this. How was your dinner?”
I breathed out. “It was good.”
“It was exquisite,” he said. “I am fatigued. Do you have any other questions?”
“Just one. Do you believe in the devil?”
“Of course. But, again, we actually understand him. Actually, them. Like God, Satan is a group. More of a movement, a faction if you will.”
“Explain,” I said.
“The Guardians are democratic. They support the Father, Alpha and Omega, as their Supreme Leader. But, in all societies, there are dissenters. Especially when it comes to the issue of homo sapiens. The Guardian Supreme, or Godhead, believes that mankind has intrinsic value. They believe, if you will, in our potential. But not all of the Ahn are of the same opinion. Many, especially the Satanists, believe that humans are beasts, only good for servitude. They believe that too much knowledge has been given to humans already, wasted on us. They, like the Guardians, have access to the same telepathic technology. They use it to tempt us to defy the Guardians and to follow our baser, animal instincts, proving that we are, truly, primitive beings—something not easily disputable given the current state of humanity.”