“The first truck load is ready to be hauled back to the planes..”
“Okay. Get that stuff out of here and on the planes! Hustle! Drive carefully!”
There’s more priceless treasures here than in the end of the film National Treasure. I try to remain on equilibrium but I am seeing stuff that boggles the mind. Not only is there only 1 working EMF craft, but there are two, much smaller, one-man crafts that function the same way. Art! There is art here beyond one’s wildest dreams. Art that pulsates, scintillates and comes alive - with a glance or a thought. Intelligent art that can perceive these things and react. Yal-hune says this style of art was popular in Atlantis - art that changed and reacted to its environment. There are devices, machines, clothing and even some things that look promising as age maintainers - cell rejuvenators. It’s hard to think of these things as evil - especially when we live in a world that worships at the alter of youth. Because the world does not understand the complete cycle of regeneration, the quest to look and be young is endless.
Each treasure tops the last. Books that come alive as you turn the pages, books that transfer the words straight into your mind. Yal-hune has been sharing with me the contents and the purposes of many objects, inside my mind. as the men load them up. The men know this stuff is special, but they are disciplined and they watch each other as they catalog them and pack them out. The chatter about Ketta-Nu-Ma is kept to a bare minimum as they focus on the task at hand - saving the speculation for the trip back.
Yal-hune is preparing the large EMF craft for travel. Apparently there are things that need to be checked and calibrated, much like a car or airplane. The sun is fully up and this city is coming to life. I hope to have all these items loaded and out of the country, long before noon.
“The craft is ready. Incidentally it alone would have been capable of transporting all these items in a fraction of the time it will take to fly these things out.”
“It’s not big enough.”
“No, it isn’t big enough for everything at once but when the trip takes 5 seconds from here to Shamballa, and the cargo can be transported to a storage facility in another 5 seconds - it saves lots of labor and time.”
“So, as for the rest of this stuff, you are saying you could haul it back to Shamballa in a matter of minutes?”
“Yes. About ten minutes.”
“Okay. Do it That’s fine with me! A Team stop loading. Return to command vehicle, head back to airport, unload what you have and board the planes!”
I turn to Yal-hune, “You’re softening up. Next thing you know you will be penciling out diagrams of the devices and crafts being recovered.”
“No, this is just saving you some time doing mundane labor - nothing more.”
“Sure, sure…whatever you say.”
I smile at her and tease her. I don’t think she can be teased, exactly. But she probably appreciates the sentiment behind it.
“You keep thinking these ‘audience’ type thoughts - who exactly are you talking to? On our world those thoughts are common in multi-person thought transfers, but as far as I know - you are only in communication with me.”
“Those thoughts are for posterity. And maybe I‘m in communication with another Planetary Emissary on another world…who is planning on coming down to Earth, simply because I am here.”
Yal-hune laughs. It’s not a mean laugh, but rather that delicious laugh that reaches right into your mind and makes you happy when you hear it.
“Okay. Say hello to your imaginary Emissary for me!”
“Wouldn’t you be surprised if it was true? Maybe she can’t wait to be assigned to Earth…and before long the southwestern desert will be a bustling place for extraterrestrials all eager to share technologies and recipes for extraterrestrial goulash.”
“Sure. It’s probably yummy and she makes it better than anyone back in the old world, excepting her mother!”
“Well, invite her down here.”
“She says she’s all booked up till 2012.”
“Okay. Have I made a sufficient posterior out of myself yet? It’s a human thing. You having all the aces makes it hard to have something you want.”
I walk over to Yal-hune who is looking simply ravishing in her white workman overalls. Her pinkish skin looks like some velvety dream and her lips make luscious seem like a wholly inadequate word. Her auburn-gold hair is falling down upon her white clothed shoulders and the contrast is heavenly and unearthly. Her eyes are so powerful and yet so gentle. Her mind has sculpted this body and it is like a Faberge egg - a treasure of incredible intricacy, care and design. Falling in love with an extraterrestrial is heaven - and hell. Knowing these thoughts only reveal my preoccupation with the physical and not the mental, make it all the more frustrating. Any human woman would love to be complemented and adored. For Yal-hune such things are merely demonstrations of my mental immaturity and Pavlovian responses - and worst of all, I know it too.
“I owe you this.”
Yal-hune wraps her arms around me. She stares into my eyes and is simultaneously in my mind. She tilts her head slightly so that her forehead touches mine. What happens next is too hard to describe. A kiss that reaches out and encompasses my soul, that makes every kiss I’ve ever had seem like a handshake. A kiss that is mental and reaches out and kisses every part of my consciousness. A kiss that raises my consciousness to a whole new level and makes me aware of a new kind of sentience - that I could never imagine existed. She oscillates with me and each cell in my body rejoices. I have that renewed sense of purpose, of perspective and of life itself. I'm suddenly aware that sentience is infinite and have had a taste of her broadened sentience.
She speaks inside my mind ever so gently, like a soft zephyr breeze over a flowery meadow:
"The best is yet to come."