The Plan: Part 1 Read online

  His paintings were reflections of his world of pain, loneliness and angst. The sad eyes he painted were mirrors which housed dark, deadened pools without any reflection of light. The bodies were warped; broken. Yet he painted an aspect of them which remained light and colorful on his better, happier days.

  Alejandro’s work mirrored his own soul's pain; which he tried to quell through his addiction to a melange of drugs and alcohol.

  Griesen managed to steer Alejandro towards his art, with some satisfaction. The paintbrush became Alejandro’s portal to joy and stillness. In those rare moments when he painted, momentarily free from the talons of addiction, his soul's pain was forgotten, instead transferring to the creationist energies of joy. Love.

  In those moments, Alejandro became One with his heart and mind. When he painted, he was absolving the part of his soul that was permanently angry and hurt at the betrayals of his family. The physical abuse he endured at the hands of his emotionally-damaged mother were only second to the emotional void left by his absentee father.

  But despite every effort, it was not to be. For a brief time in his late 40s, Alejandro reached a place of substantial fame. That fame, however, brought him back to the drugs and a depression which spread like a forest-fire back into his life.

  Griesen had combed through the years of his life in painstaking detail, placing markers – consisting of people, coincidences, and dreams - of pointed change into his life to steer him in the direction of joy. And for a period of time, Griesen celebrated this small yet significant victory with Alejandro.

  There was a small amount of Blue Energy that emitted throughout the two successful decades of Alejandro's life - his golden period. An equivalent of a quarter unit of energy had been produced. Griesen remembered the elation he felt, to be a part of this. Alejandro was the very first Soul that he had enabled to cross a bridge; to steep himself in the joys of sharing his talents with the world.

  When Alejandro began withdrawing from his painting, allowing himself to become consumed with the latent rage at his past stemming from his childhood, Griesen watched him, awash in his own despair.

  “Your conscience is dark. It marks you,” Master Thames said after a few moments into their weekly session. She wasted no time remarking on it.

  I’ve failed, he uttered to her. They were on Gaia, beamed down in their Spirit forms, watching Alejandro in front of them as he took ragged breaths in his bed. He was dying. And it was upon his final hour, and there had been no trace of any Blue Light for over a decade.

  There was nobody here for him. All his false friends had but abandoned him years ago, after his sudden fortune had run out. Now, the dark, dingy boarding room where he resided was paid for in full for the next two years, in a stroke of foresight delivered on one of his better days. It was all he had left. This small, wet and moldy room, a few canvases, and his paintbrushes, which hadn’t been used in months.

  And now, it was nearly done. Griesen resigned himself to watch Alejandro die. He himself felt pain, knowing it would happen very soon. A death from natural causes. That was marked on his timeline. The time would be within a matter of hours. He knew he shouldn’t form an attachment to his case, they were instructed not to. But he couldn’t help it.

  No, she corrected him. Remember the way of the Universe. The fact that Alejandro had gone through his Life's journey and found a place of solace was a significant achievement. That he chose to renounce that which gave him peace, was his own decision, one that was guided by the darker Shadows of his soul.

  There was a balance of light and shadow in every human being. Griesen knew this.

  Alejandro let out an aggrieved sigh. His skin was ash gray, his limbs weakened from lack of movement. His organs were shutting down. Years of excessive drinking and drug abuse had weakened his kidneys and liver. One of his kidneys had failed months ago. They could see all of it.

  Did I not do enough to pull him towards the light? He let her feel everything he felt through their telepathy. He felt a certain level of shame and regret at not helping Alejandro out of his Shadow self. What had he done wrong?

  You did everything you could. Alejandro wasn't ready to continue to live in the light, Master Thames replied gently. You did well on your first trial case. Do not be so hard on yourself. He couldn’t embrace it. It was a foreign way to live for him – in a lighter state. He only chose to find it briefly in his art, where he could have chosen to carry it to other areas of his life. To love himself better.

  He couldn’t forgive his family, Griesen murmured.

  Master Thames nodded. You did your best, no? Alejandro's soul cycled through the transformation you aided him in. Remember, he was already on his Fifth Sol. You did well given his difficult circumstances. We cannot forecast the cycle in its entirety, or how accepting the Soul will be of any changes.

  Whether the Soul can return to the springtime, of spiritual rebirth, will mark its ultimate triumph.

  Remember, dear Griesen…The mountains to scale for every Soul lie within them. The summit beckons at dawn and at dusk. There are wondrous peaks to scale and behold, within the Soul's journey… if they choose to see them, and step through to them, every day, through every crevice in the ascent.

  Every human leads their own Sol’s journey. Make no mistake; their troubles are all meant to be overcome, only by them. We provide the assistance. Whether they choose to see our signs, and lead from a place of strength or weakness is a decision in their own will; a choice dictated by their own mental fortitude. Everyone can find a way. To find a way up, through the ascent, is the only way to cross the bridge, and allow for Enlightenment, and the Blue Energy to spark.

  Change is for this very reason. We produce change to imbue the Soul with the questions, and push them to find the answers so they reach a state of peace and enlightenment.

  We help them. But remember… we can never force them. They have to help themselves.

  Alejandro let out one last cry, punctuated with a ragged gasp of air. It was over.

  Even in his death, his soul wanted one last breath.

  A brief white light passed through Alejandro. It was the energy of the Soul, Griesen knew. It was leaving him now. The pale, filmy presence seemed to stop for a moment, as if seeing Griesen and Master Thames. They knew it was impossible; they were in their own energetic dimension, but it was perhaps possible that the Soul could perhaps feel and sense them.

  Until next time. Alejandro’s Soul would come back for its rebirth, in due time. Until then – they would wait.

  Griesen physically arrived on Gaia for the first time for Alejandro’s funeral. The oxygenated air felt heavy to breathe in. The skin-suit he had transposed himself into had taken numerous tries before he was able to transform himself properly, with the correct appendages on the right places - hands on the arms, not arms for legs.

  His stay was only two days, but he was fascinated by what he saw. Alejandro’s art suddenly became the centre of a bidding war at London’s central art auction house. His art, shortly after his death, quadrupled in value. The three hundred and twenty-seven individual oil paintings he had created were suddenly fought over, most of them sequestered away. A total of seven of them were auctioned the day after his funeral, and each were finally sold for a total of over fifty thousand pounds each – a significant fortune for that time.

  During the funeral, he saw the heavy, dark auras weighing on the humans around him, much like anvils around their feet.

  Their auras were not to do with Alejandro's death - which did in truth bring sadness to them, but more selfishly because it reflected to them their very own mortality - the weight of their discomfiture in their lives.

  Griesen wore a long black jacket and felted hat that suited the occasion. He did not notice any other Acruvae in the area. He would have sensed their auras.

  When the pastor spoke, his words cast a wave of silence over the crowd which gathered, coming from near and far.

  The pastor spoke of Alejandro's achievem
ents. His great works of art. The legacy which he now had.

  But was he happy? Griesen thought. And no - that comment was not one worth asking. It was unremarkable and unworthy of comment in a society such as this one. One wanted to know how much he had accrued; how many pieces of art remained unfinished; and if he had left any illegitimate children in the world that had been unaccounted for, for all the monies that were worth counting. Things that mattered, for those in the world of the living.

  These were none of the things that mattered, for when the Spirit passed.

  Griesen looked at Alejandro's open casket before the pastor finished speaking.

  He recalled Master Thames’ thoughts as the memorial went on.

  Their lives will pass from this Earth, but their Spirit will live on. Gaia is a place of rebirth - for each and every Soul. They will leave this place, finally, once they have learned their lessons. When they have successfully reached ascension, their Souls will leave this common ground, this place that beckons them to know and understand themselves in all the ways they search for everything outwardly.

  As you will see, Griesen - time and again here on Gaia, a Soul's temperament and spirit is only developed through trial and difficulty. It is how humans forged their tools - through fire, pressure and heat. Every Human's experience on Gaia will be their own particular journey. Should they choose not to pass the borders and mountainous crevasses that present themselves in this lifetime… it will remain thereafter. For their next Sol iteration.

  Remember the Right Way. Simply focus on pushing them forward. Towards love. Towards the light. Be patient. Your results will come in time, in this Sol iteration or the next.

  What if I run out of time? He whispered. The very matter at hand was energy – when the one Friel of energy began running out. Griesen continued his questions. Why do you not speak of this? Are you not worried? Why aren’t you saying anything about -

  Master Thames seemed to ignore his last rush of comments, and continued speaking. Have faith. Nothing else matters.

  Griesen woke up, drenched in sweat. Those words kept ringing in his ears. Have faith. Nothing else matters.

  CHAPTER 5

  Back in the Observation room, Griesen was continuing to pore over the data. Then, something flashed in front of him on the monitor. Then it disappeared.

  He blinked. What was that? He saw his reflection on the translucent screen in front of him. He frowned. Certainly, he had seen something.

  A piece of paper floated down into the message receptacle. He shook his head, attempting to clear it.

  Griesen pushed a button, which prompted a quiet whirr. The steel receptacle door opened, and he pulled out the note, interpreting it quickly.

  72H: E/P

  Halva was going to get a shock. Otherwise known as a Drop. His hands shook slightly at the announcement. Her soul was going to get a wake-up call that would mark the start of the opportunity for the bridging process to begin. In seventy-two hours, Human time, no less. He expected it, given the short notice he’d received prior to being summoned to the Council Chambers. He contemplated this while he watched the paper dissipate in front of him into shimmering particles.

  He frowned for a moment. Was it just him, or was the paper disintegrating at a slower rate than when he had worked with Alejandro, hundreds of years ago?

  His mind returned to Damus’ words. Was he in fact the first Seeker for Halva, or had there been others before him? Why would Damus say something like that if the possibility didn’t exist?

  He tapped his fingers on the screen, impatience rising within him. He couldn’t answer that question. But now that the bulk of his preliminary work was done with Halva – he needed to see something else…

  SYSTEM ACCESS. He navigated over to the mainframe screen, hitting the folder.

  The screen prompted him.

  LOOKUP.

  Sylvia and Henry Bolegaard, he typed in. His parents.

  Momentarily, streams of data began moving on all his screens. He sat back, waiting pensively. What if…? What if? His thoughts arose, a hungry dragon searching for restitution. What if they were still alive? Somewhere? What happened to them?

  ACCESS DENIED.

  His thoughts came to a sharp halt as he stared at those words on the screen. The words remained; unmoving.

  Access denied. To have a file denied was to mean that something was restricted. It wasn’t the same as not having information altogether…

  He’d find something. Somewhere. He felt it. He was filled with a fiery resolution. Nobody was going to get in his way.

  He stared at the screen again. This was exactly as it had been before. Another wall. At least, it was confirmed now. There was nothing here that could help him find the answers to what happened to them. At least, not here in the Institute…

  He closed his eyes as he refocused on Halva’s impending shakeup. The key was to watch her closely enough to see what he could do to help her bridge to the other side. He would have to do everything in his power to help her. So he could find the answers he was looking for. The bridging, if successful, would provide him enough energy units to continue digging into his parents’ disappearance. He had thought about this strategy, time and time again… if he couldn’t find the answers here, the answers had to be somewhere on Earth. This was where they’d gone. Someone down there had to know something.

  Halva’s Drop would be occurring soon. Gretchen. He needed her for this next part.

  GRADUATION: 10 DAYS PRIOR

  Griesen woke up with a start, squinting. It was the slight damp of the morning that woke him, the subtle spray of mist which was rapidly dissipating with the warming air. He realized he had fallen asleep while waiting for his letter to arrive. He hadn't shut the living room window which had brought in the morning breeze. The letter which had not come yet - his appointment letter.

  He bolted upright then, suddenly, alarmed. He reached quickly for his transmitter, a small black disc installed in numerous locations around his home.

  Gretchen, he instructed telepathically. The disc connected to her immediately, and she materialized in the bright vertical beam of light.

  “Good morning!” she exclaimed. Then her face changed as she looked at him. "What happened?" she asked, her brows knitting together.

  "Did you receive your letter?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, last night. It was so late, I thought I'd wait until the morning to tell you..."

  "I didn't get mine," he stated bluntly.

  She gaped at him. "Are you sure?”

  He shook his head, his eyes cloudy. “Why would I joke about it? I’m concerned.” He refocused his gaze then, for a moment, on her. "Tell me what yours said."

  She said nothing for a moment, as if unsure of what to say to him.

  “Gretchen,” he prompted her. “C’mon!”

  She broke out into a wide grin. “I got what I wanted!” she said gleefully.

  “What will you do about your letter?"

  He shook his head.

  “Congratulations.” He smiled. He wished he could be happier for her, but it was hard not knowing where his own had gone. “You worked hard for this. This is a big moment for you – we’ll celebrate when I get back. I’m going to enquire. I'll let you know.”

  "Yes." Her mouth thinned into a line, betraying the worry in her voice. "I'm sure it was just a mistake. It’ll probably get delivered when you’re gone."

  Just a mistake. The Institute wasn’t known for making mistakes. Particularly at Assignment time. The thought rattled through him as he walked quickly down to his docked shuttle.

  "Computer," he ordered. It beeped in acknowledgement. "Take me to the council chambers." He hadn't bothered to change out of his clothes from yesterday. His tunic was rumpled and unkempt. If this was class, he would’ve been ordered to go back and change.

  The shuttle intercom beeped once again, acknowledging his command, lifting off his landing pad. In a microsecond, it sped off towards the Institute's headquarters.<
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  He saw a cloister of fifty students gathered around the main atrium in front of the chambers. As he approached, he was greeted by mild pandemonium and the students milling about, their tunics awash in blue and dark red. It was the color of confusion. Anger. They were gathered in front of the council chambers, where the 10-foot high carved doors remained solidly shut. All his classmates – did the same thing happen to them too? He wondered as he made his way through the throng.

  "Hey," a voice called to him. Griesen looked ahead and recognized Yonas, the six-foot five giant who stood out in any crowd. He made Griesen's five-foot nine height seem dwarfish by comparison. He had spent countless hours with Yonas in the Cube classes which generated Earthly scenarios they actively problem-solved and role-played in. Yonas seemed to have a natural ability to slip into human form from the beginning; it was a formidable talent.

  Yonas waved him over with a dark look on his face. "Did you get your letter?" he asked him, his blue eyes pooling with a deeply troubled look in them.

  Griesen shook his head. "No. That’s why I’m here. I fell asleep expecting it."

  "Same here,” Yonas said. Then – “Rumors are that there were some killings,” he whispered.