Starway to Heaven


Sunday 25 September 2016

* * * Special Presentation * * *


Spiritual Science Fiction

Short Story by Jim Lantern

Includes Ancient Aliens, Reincarnation, Religion, and a hint of Romance

You’ve heard of a stairway to heaven. Yes, there are stairs . . . but the stairs are also a starway.

Jacob went out of Beersheba, on the border of the desert, and walked alone, carrying his staff in his hand. One evening, just about sunset, he came to a place among the mountains, more than sixty miles distant from his home. And as he had no bed to lie down upon, he took a stone and rested his head upon it for a pillow, and lay down to sleep. And on that night Jacob had a wonderful dream. In his dream he saw stairs leading from the earth where he lay up to heaven; and angels were going up and coming down upon the stairs. And above the stairs, he saw the Lord God standing.

Dreams, barely remembered upon awakening.

Nightmares, never to be forgotten.

What I’d awakened from, and where, was a struggle to know…

Awareness . . . sensations . . . beginning of consciousness. I felt cold. Discomfort, being a hard surface under my back, with several edges from one side to the other. Pain, in the form of a headache. Some dizziness, as if I were fading in and out. Pressure on my ears, but no sounds heard, so far, a kind of silence echoing silence. Bad taste in my mouth, being the flavor of recently having eaten something burned during cooking. Then my mouth turned dry, and I became extremely thirsty. I tried to swallow, and as I did, the pressure on my ears was released. Then I could hear . . . the sound of wind . . . yet I did not feel it upon me.

I tried taking in a deep breath . . . and doing so gave me energy, as if the air itself contained energy, or whatever I breathed in.

I slowly opened my eyes . . . and found darkness slowly giving way to a dimly lit haziness. Fog? I sniffed the air . . . discovering the crisp smell of fresh-fallen snow. But I couldn’t see any snow, and it would have been the last place a Christian would expect to find snow, anyway. I believe it simply was the purity of the place, a cool mistiness, not too difficult to breathe.

I noticed my clothing . . . appeared to be a one-piece leisure-work jumpsuit, made of a dark blue material . . . charred to black ash in a few places, and torn in some other places. Black boots on my feet appeared to be in fairly good condition. No blood . . . no burned skin . . . I did not appear to be injured, although I felt like hell.

From my back, I rolled over onto my right side. Then I realized I had awakened on stairs. My feet were pointing down the stairs, or so I assumed—based on my position and what I believed to be the force of natural gravity. A form of stone-like material, the stairs felt to my touch, cold and hard. It looked like rock had been melted and poured to form the stairs. They appeared to be new.

I tried to become better oriented . . . thinking in terms of up the stairs being north, although being diagonally upward. Still on my right side, I was facing west. At that moment, the source of light came into focus . . . the eyes of my soul adjusting . . . to reveal . . . stars. Countless brilliant stars. I leaned over carefully, to look over the side of the stairs, straight down below me, to view . . . more stars. No ground. Nothing to support the stairs, there, apparently in open space. I felt more dizziness, so I leaned back for a while.

There is no air in space, you know. But, what sounded like wind—I mean, air blowing against something, I could not at first identify. Then it became louder. I began to sense its direction, although I could not yet actually feel air blowing against me.

Again, I looked below the stairs . . . carefully leaning slightly over the side. You see, there were no handrails to grasp. However, upon leaning further over the side, I felt the force of gravity move with me. It held me to the side of the stairs, being only about two feet thick. Then I discovered I could move around to the underside. It had the same design of steps as the topside. Gravity on the underside was as strong, and it held me as securely as it did upon the topside. A bit disorienting. A new perspective.

The source of the strange sound became closer. I looked in the direction I still considered to be west . . . and about forty-five degrees of what had become up from the underside or down from the topside. I watched it approach . . . slowly coming into focus . . . what appeared to be an ancient three mast sailing ship. However, the sails of that ship, I then realized, were apparently designed to also catch the wind of the stars. The solar wind, or something like it. As the ship came closer, more details came into focus. I could see some of its crew, out walking around upon the exposed top deck . . . and all of them wearing spacesuits! I felt a momentary sense of panic, knowing I had no such protection—no spacesuit! But then fascination overwhelmed the panic as I continued to watch.

The ship was up-side-down, from my viewpoint, so I crawled back around to the topside of the stairs . . . putting my view of the ship right-side-up, as if it mattered. Designed in the likeness of an ancient sailing ship for voyages upon oceans of water, it was—or would be—a spaceship on voyages between worlds, in a realm between the physical universe and the spiritual universe . . . and a timeship on voyages between what will be, and what was, so long ago.

Why that design? I felt like I might eventually discover the answer in another place and time. I turned around to face east and look over the other side of the stairway, as it passed under the stairway from west to east. As it did so, I could see one of the crew, on the top deck, wave up to me! So surprised was I that I did not think to wave back until the ship was nearly out of sight. Should I have wondered who he was, or will be? For time travelers, of a kind, answers can come before questions. Who am I here after, that he may be there after? A mystery to be solved another time, another place.

Next, I looked down the stairs . . . to the point where they vanished into perspective . . . the point appearing to be down on a planet. Was the stairway really going down to that planet?—or coming up from that planet? I guess it depends more on whether one is more optimistic or more pessimistic, one way or the other. The stairway didn’t actually touch the surface of the planet. If it had, it would likely have been pulled along by the planet’s rotation, if the stairs were real, rather than an illusion, I concluded. Although there was some cloud cover, I could see continents and oceans. The visible landmasses looked like they could be fitted together, like the pieces of a giant jigsaw picture puzzle. With that thought, part of my memory was triggered.

Some of the members of the . . . expedition . . . referred to that planet as “Jigsaw”—the “jigsaw planet”—because of the shape of the continents, appearing to have once been part of a single large landmass.

I turned around and looked up the stairway. Or perhaps I should refer to it, in that direction, as being a starway. I could see at the top of the stairs what appeared to be a colossal space station in the shape of a wheel, with many spokes connected to a cylindrical hub at its center. I expected to see it turning to create artificial gravity, but it was not. And, I could see the stairs appeared to be connected to the outer rim, at a giant door. To the left of the door, from my viewpoint, I noticed three large windows, but couldn’t see through their reflective surfaces. I should mention, I would now estimate the station appeared to me to be at least 100 miles in diameter.

I didn’t want to return to the planet . . . assuming that’s where I came from . . . so I stood up and began to walk up the stairs. I wasn’t sure exactly how far I’d have to walk, from where I’d awakened, to where the stairs reached the space station. A few thousand steps, I guessed.

I’m not sure how long it took me to reach the top of the stairs, but time passed quickly…


Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. – Matthew 7:7-8.

The door at the top of the stairs, on the outer side of the wheel’s rim, was about even with one of its long spokes on the inner side. I now recall the size of the door to be about 24 feet tall, 8 feet wide. It appeared to be made of solid steel, a blue-gray in color. No doubt very heavy. I figured it would require a significant amount of strength or force to open it. There was no visible keyhole. Good thing. I had no key.

A handle, located halfway up in the center, was too high for me to reach. I then thought to myself, if I can’t open the door from the outside, maybe someone or some thing on the inside could open it for me. So I looked for a signaling device. Finding none, I tried knocking…

I doubted anyone inside could hear my bony fingers rapping on what appeared to be a solid metal door. I did not yet know that I had been transformed from matter into supermatter, as was the door and station made from supermatter.

With the lower part of my right palm, I hit it harder. Each time I hit the door, it changed . . . material, color, and size. It went through all the colors I knew, and colors I can’t describe with the Anglicus Language, or Latinae—the Mercatorian Standard Language. Apparently changing materials with each knock, the door appeared to go through various woods, stones, metals, plastics, and composite materials. As the door was reduced in size with each knock . . . handles, levers, knobs, and other opening devices appeared in different places on the door. I stopped knocking when it was down to what I figured to be about right for my size . . . and I could easily reach a wheel and lever on the door, and again what appeared to be a blue-gray metal.

I turned the unlocking wheel, then pulled down on the opening lever. There was a brief hissing sound, as if air pressure was being released from inside. Slowly, the door swung soundlessly inwards, and I was nearly blinded by brilliant white light from inside. I shielded my eyes, first with one hand, then both. Carefully, I stepped through the doorway. As I did so, I felt something like a mild electrical static discharge.

Amazingly, my eyes quickly adjusted to the light. I could see some details of things nearby. Further away, the bright light blinded out most details. Almost everything I could see was white, reflecting light.

My attention was drawn to my left by some beeping and clicking sounds. On the curving wall near to my left, the three windows—I first noticed from outside—apparently provide observers with an excellent view of the planet at the bottom of the stairs. A long curving console stood about 3 feet away from the windows. On it, I could see white control panels with many multi-colored buttons, switches, and lights.

Perhaps all an illusion for the benefit of souls coming up from the worlds of physical space, I guessed.

Sitting at the console, two odd-looking individuals pushed buttons and flipped switches, causing the sounds I heard. A third stood behind the two. They wore what appeared to be all-white jumpsuits with hooded ponchos. I was unable to see their faces yet, because of their hoods and my viewpoint. Also, I wasn’t able to determine them to be male or female, living intelligent androids—artificial humans, or perhaps some other kind of life form—physical or spiritual.

I turned around and looked toward the area right of the door through which I entered, or then left as I faced it from inside. It appeared to be a waiting area, but with no chairs. I counted 24 individuals in that area at that time. Each had two eyes of horizontal ovals, and hands with four fingers and only one thumb on each. I was seeing them with an alien memory, missing my human memories, and thus I did not at first recognize them to be humans who have Viridi souls, souls in the spectrum of green light, as natives of the world I just came from. I have a Caeruli soul, a soul in the spectrum of blue light, as do all those from the group of distant worlds I came from. Some appeared to be females. Most looked like males. A few I wasn’t sure of. All wore an assortment of colorful clothing styles I wasn’t familiar with right then. Thinking back now, I’d describe them as looking like North American tourists of the early 1950’s, visiting a tropical island beach. Even so, I suspected that their clothing was an illusion, or a projection of some kind. The souls quietly talked with each other . . . a bit too quiet for me to hear. I probably wouldn’t have understood their language then even if I had been close enough to hear them. Certainly, it was not the Mercatorian Standard Language or any known Landor [“LAN-dor”] language of planet Langenth [“LAN-genth”] from where I was first born into a physical life a very long time ago.

As I turned back to look toward the control area, the individual who appeared to be in charge turned to face me. Its glowing orange face had only two dark spots where the eyes should be. Thinking about that now, it reminds me of an unfinished pumpkin head as an apparition for Halloween.

“For tracking arrivals.” it said to me, waving toward the left half of the curving console and the apparition in the chair there. Its hands were almost like mine, having 2 opposing thumbs on each hand, but with 5 long fingers between its thumbs. I only had 3, there, in that form, my Caeruli soul playing a reflection of my past Landor life. I wondered what that apparition had been during its past physical life, if any. “For tracking departures.” it then said, as it waved toward the right half of the console and the attendant in the chair there.

Right then, I noticed a door to the right of the windows, as I faced them from the inside. An exit, I guessed, for a separate stairway going down to the jigsaw planet, although I hadn’t noticed another stairway as I came up the one I was on.

I realized I understood what it said to me through my soul, rather then by sound waves through physical ears. But did I still have physical ears? Does my soul have ears or something like ears in superphysical form? I believe the apparition knew my thoughts a split second before I spoke them as words. I replied. “I just arrived. I do not know this place. What should I do?”

The apparition stared at me in silence a moment, then said, “You are a Caeruli, a soul in the spectrum of blue light. You should know this place very well by now. You have passed this way many times before. Come over here.”

“What is this place? Who are you?” I asked, as I walked toward it.

“This is Terrantus Station. I am known as Archaltus. I am a senior dirigen angel.” It spoke it as “diri-gen” and explained, “I’m a directional controller for souls and spirits passing through buffer-space at this station between the spiritual heaven and the planet you just came from.” Waving again toward the other two, it said, “They are junior dirigen angels. Venire, on the left, oversees arrivals from the planet you just came from. Janitus, on the right, oversees departures of new souls passing through this station to that same planet. Buffer-space separates the spiritual universe from the physical universe. It is to some people known as the Shield of Heaven, and to others as the Hellfield. Unshielded organic lifeforms cannot pass through buffer-space without being burned up by SlipField waves, preventing physical beings from directly entering the spiritual heaven. Lifeforms shielded in starships can pass through buffer-space for faster-than-light travel with the aid of angelic navigators. Terrantus is also a transfer station and way station for spiritual soul travelers between the spiritual heaven and physical worlds, as well as between physical worlds. Each corridor to a different world. Each doorway for different travelers from those different worlds”

“Mirandus.” I said. I believed it to be the name of the planet I just came from.

“No, you mean… Ah yes. The Mirandian timeline.” Archaltus said, as if there were other timelines—alternate histories, and as if that planet is known by other names. “Come over here, closer—right here.” It indicated the area between the left end of the console and the entry door. There, stood a cylindrical-shaped terminal, about a foot in diameter and about four feet tall. I could see a slot on top of the terminal. It was about a quarter inch by four inches. A slightly raised black rectangle, about four by eight inches, was also on top, in front of the slot.

“Look closely into this sensor.” Archaltus requested, using a long finger of its right hand to indicate the black rectangle.

I leaned forward, over the terminal, and looked into the sensor. It apparently had something to do with the eyes of the soul being matched to internal data being used for identification. As I straightened up, a card was halfway ejected out of the slot. It was about three by seven inches, and an eighth of an inch thick, I guessed. The senior dirigen angel removed it, and then silently read it.

“This card identifies you here. It is your passport through this station.” Then it studied the ID card closer, and asked me, “By what name do you now identify yourself?”

“Mutarus Tempus Omnia, originally from the planet named—”

“Langenth. Yes, I see. Is Mutarus Tempus Omnia the last name you remember using?”

“Except for the frontier initial name. My fin was MOT. The family name always being the middle initial. The use of fins were a humorous fad on capital planet Citra. Like nicknames.”

“Do you remember how you died?” Archaltus asked.

“During the Bracatus Mirandus Expedition. After the mutiny aboard Starship Providence. After the starship fell from orbit and was destroyed. Some, who were already at an established land base, before the mutiny, tried to survive there. But supplies would become depleted. Breathing masks used to filter that planet’s pollen out of the air, deadly for Mercatorians, would get used up. And not enough chlorine gas in the atmosphere there to maintain our immune systems. No rescue would come from the home planets of the Mercatorians or any of the colony planets of the Interstar Trading Worlds. I was on a mission with others to deliver the master time capsule to an area of land near the magnetic north pole of the planet, where we were to bury it. The scout craft, a kind of aircraft I was aboard, exploded and crashed into the ice-cold water of a sea before reaching our destination. I don’t know what caused the explosion. I was briefly conscious in the water . . . then . . . ”

“That is when your Mercatorian life ended.” Archaltus said, and then asked, “What happened after that?”

“I awakened on the stairs,” I pointed, “out there.”

“The Mercatorian expedition to that world down there was a very long time ago. You have no memory of where you have been since then?”

“Apparently not.” I answered.

Archaltus walked over to Venire, who handed the senior dirigen angel another card. Archaltus read the card, and then spoke to me. “The door scanned you when you entered Terrantus Station. That, which is you, your superconscious mind, still exist within your Caeruli soul. You also have what is known as an indwelling spirit, which functions apart from your soul and superconscious mind therein. Apparently, it has removed your memories, of the time from when you died as a Landor from Langenth, to the time you awakened upon the stairway in the Mirandian corridor. The memories of when your soul was first incarnated into Mirandian life, and reincarnations since then, are not presently within you.”

“Why not?” I wanted to know.

Archaltus walked over to a panel on the curving console, midway between arrivals and departures. There, the senior dirigen angel inserted my ID card into a slot. A few seconds passed. Then Archaltus removed the card and read on it some new data that had just been added to it.

“Those memories were taken by your indwelling spirit to the Most High Judges for review . . . to determine if you should be reincarnated again, or be allowed to return to your home world to ascend into the Realm of Heaven from there with other Caeruli souls. If you are reincarnated again, then your personal indwelling spirit may return to join with your superconscious mind in your soul for another physical lifetime. If you ascend, then it will merge with you, as the first spiritual evolutionary step toward becoming an angelic being . . . and you certainly will then remember the key points of most of your past lives. If permitted, such memories can and will be allowed to surface during physical life reincarnations. Meantime, you will remain here, until we receive the determination on the communications link from the Most High Judges.” Archaltus explained.

“How long will that be?” I inquired.

“I do not know.” Archaltus answered. “An auxilum angel is coming to help you, and might be able to answer that.”

“What’s an auxilum angel?” I asked.

“An angelic being whose job will be to help you.” Archaltus told me. “Stand over there.” it pointed. “With those Viridi souls.” The senior dirigen angel handed me my ID card, to be used as a passport. “Don’t lose that. You’ll need it for your departure, one way or the other.”

I held the card in my left hand . . . not sure my pockets were real.

I was about to walk over to the waiting area, just as something got the attention of the dirigen angels in the control area for the nearest spoke, as well as the group of Viridi souls in the waiting area. I looked to where everyone else was looking.

A glowing sphere of blue light, about 4 feet in diameter, with a multi-colored fan-like assembly on its apparent backside, floating about 4 feet above the deck, approached us from the archway opening to the nearest spoke concourse. It stopped a few feet away from me.

“Is this a auxilum angel?” I asked Archaltus.

“No. It is a triangel—a Trinity Angel—having elements of the Ma, the Pa, and the Xe [pronounced Ze], the short terms for the Great Maternal Spirit, the Great Paternal Spirit, and the Holy Life Spirit.”

Suddenly, the sphere turned into an almost Mirandian-looking creature in appearance, but was still enveloped in a glowing blue light. “Greetings from the Ambassador to Mirandus from the Realm of Heaven, who has sent me.” the triangel said with a feminine voice I felt more than heard.

“Greetings Architritia.” Archaltus replied.

Its facial features became more feminine, defined by eyes, nose, and mouth, visible through the open hood of its single-piece garment of a light blue material.

“Welcome.” Archaltus added, “How may we serve you?”

“I’m here to collect the Caeruli soul known by the Mercatorian name of Mutarus Tempus Omnia.” Architritia announced.

“Unusual for a Trinity Angel to be sent to collect a soul, even for a Caeruli soul.” Archaltus remarked.

“I’m Mutarus Tempus Omnia.” I said, and took a step forward.

“The Ambassador to Mirandus requests to immediately meet with you, MOT.” the triangel informed me, informally addressing me by my fin. It surprised me that it knew of the popular nickname fad on planet Citra. Using it gave me the impression of a meeting that would be more personal than professional.

“Does this mean I’m going to be sent back to planet Mirandus, or sent home to the Interstar Trading Worlds of the Mercatorian Empire?” I wanted to know.

“It is my understanding you may have an option.” The triangel paused, then turned to Archaltus and said, “The window of opportunity is limited.” Then to me, “We must hurry.”

“Pray some time for explanation.” Archaltus requested.

“Very well.” Architritia responded. “Marea Amor Exsequor, or Omnia if you prefer.” Architritia spoke to me instead of Archaltus. “Do you understand, MOT?”

“Yes.” I answered, “My wife. Where is she?”

“It is my understanding, that is the subject the Ambassador wishes to speak to you about. Marea was reincarnated on . . . Mirandus . . . for one final life there, just a few hours before you arrived here.” Architritia paused again, glanced toward Archaltus to exchange a kind of look, and then gave me the rest of the news. “I’m informed the Most High Judges have just cleared you for ascension to the First Spirit World for spiritual evolutionary progressions. You may now return to the Interstar Trading Worlds to join and ascend with other Caeruli souls who have also been approved for ascension.”

“Not without Marea Amor.” I said.

“The Ambassador anticipated your words. He informed me, that because of your spiritual marriage to Marea Amor, you may have the option to join your soulmate on  . . . planet Mirandus . . . for one final reincarnation.” Architritia reported. “Even so, the Ambassador has requested to speak to you before you decide to proceed with that option.”

“Very well,” I replied, “But what is there to speak of?”

Archaltus stepped forward to answer for Architritia. “There will be some risk. You might spend a lifetime there, and never find her. You could cross paths with her and not know it is her.”

“I would know.” I disagreed.

“There is a way . . . a mission.” Architritia said.

“Take me to the Ambassador.” I told the triangel.

“This way.” Architritia said to me, and turned toward the primary curving concourse of the station’s wheel.

I said farewell to the dirigen angels. They waved a reply. Archaltus called to me, “You’ll be back this way if you accept a mission.”

I began to follow the blue triangel. We turned to the right, into the primary outer concourse of the station, which curved to our left in the far distance, heading counter-clockwise around the wheel…


“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it’s time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.” ― Edward Teller.

We walked until we came to another T junction, being another spoke of the wheel connected to the outer concourse from the center hub to our left. We were stopped there by another triangel. It remained in the form of a sphere. It was enveloped in a glowing red light, instead of blue like Architritia.

“Greetings, Falycia.” Architritia said to the Trinity Angel, “This soul is Mutarus Tempus Omnia. I’m taking him to meet with the Ambassador to Mirandus, as requested.”

“Mirandus? You mean…” it paused, then said, “No, Architritia. Your assignment has just been changed by Magister Navarchus dux Princeps of the Caeruli Lumen Ordo.” Falycia announced with a scratchy, hissing, feminine kind of voice. “You are to immediately return to the Viridi souls receiving port to be a guide for expected important arrivals. Their identities are not known to me.” the red triangel informed the blue triangel.

“I’ll have to confirm—” Architritia began.

“The order.” Falycia said, and delivered a card to Architritia by means of some kind of force that was invisible.

“I see.” Architritia confirmed after reading the order on the card.

Falycia turned to me then and said, “The Ambassador to Mirandus is no longer on Terrantus Station. He has just been sent on an emergency mission down to Mirandus. You are to meet with the Ambassador on Mirandus in your present form. I must take you to a special departure port for that.”

“Very well.” I agreed.

“Farewell, MOT.” Architritia said to me. Then she turned back into a glowing sphere of blue light, and moved back around the long curving concourse in the direction we just came from.

“Have you your passport ID card?” Falycia asked me.

“Yes.” I answered, “Lead the way.”

The red triangel began gliding fast in the direction Architritia and I had been walking in. I hurried to catch up and follow Falycia, who remained in the form of a sphere, rather than to take a form with legs and walk.

“What kind of a soul produces a red triangel?” I inquired.

“A soul in the spectrum of red light.” Falycia gave me the idiot’s answer, and then added, “I’m a Cimexiren.” As if that explained everything.

I was just about to ask her what in buffer-space a Cimexiren is, and what part of the galaxy they hail from, when we came to another junction. I wondered why Falycia, as a triangel, referred to being a Cimexiren in the present tense, instead of her past, as I looked around the corner.

“I was a Sanguis Lactan of the Sanguis Empire, from the home world known to my kind as Sanguis-terre. Names and terms you would not have been familiar with during your time as a Landor from planet Langenth.” Falycia surprised me with the answer, as if she could read my mind. “Mercatorians did not know our language.” she explained, and then glided on around the corner to my left. “Many things you do not know, or remember yet.”

I could see that the junction did not lead to one of the primary spokes of the Terrantus Station wheel . . . being too short, narrow, and sloped up at an angle of about 30 degrees. Next to the opening, to the left as I looked into the corridor, I noticed a short pillar, and a slot on top of it. I guessed it to be another passport terminal. The departure ports apparently do not have terminals with sensors for the matching of eyes to data in the ID system, I concluded. Only a passport card is needed.

“Give me your passport.” Falycia requested.

“Here.” I said. She received it and handled it with some kind of an invisible limb and hand or force I was not familiar with. Then Falycia inserted the card into the slot on top of the terminal pillar.

“Home is rarely what we remember.” she remarked. “Are you ready?”

I found her odd remark to be somewhat disturbing. In answer to being ready, I replied, “Yes.” Then in reply to her remark, I said, “But that planet, Mirandus, is not my home, anyway.”

She made no further comment on that subject.

I asked, “What do I do now?”

“Proceed up this junction. Walk in the middle of the ramp. Do not touch the sidewalls of the corridor. Proceed to the window at the end. There a SlipField wave will pick you up and carry you to your destination.” Falycia told me.

I took a few steps into the junction corridor. Then I felt a force upon me, pulling me up the ramp toward the window. It was larger than a normal Mercatorian Landor or Mirandian door or window, about 12 feet by 12 feet. No glass in the so-called window. Where glass would have been, I could see a barely visible shimmering force field of some kind. Beyond the window, I could see stars, as viewed from within buffer-space. As I moved up the ramp, closer to the window, changing my angle of perspective, a brilliant light became visible, apparently coming from something below the horizon of the bottom window frame even with the top of the ramp. As I walked on further, the light source took on the shape of flames! As that certainly frightened me, just a bit, I began to wonder where Falycia intended to send me.

“This doesn’t look like the way to Mirandus!” I shouted, as I tried to resist the force pulling me toward the window. “Is that the Lake of Fire?” I remembered its description from a book about the Common Faith of Mercatorians.

Falycia did not reply, but I thought I sensed a brief smirk.

“Wait! MOT!” someone shouted to me, “Don’t go that way!”

As I tried to resist the pulling force, I tried to see who had called to me. Just then, Falycia was shoved out of the way. I could see the voice belonged to a Caeruli soul, creating the image illusion of having been part Aviacael from planet Skylor, and part Landor from planet Langenth . . . a man who has wings on his back, but none on his legs. Full-blooded Aviacaels have both, you know. His face looked familiar, but for that brief moment I didn’t recall his name, or from where and when I knew him.

“Who are you?” I asked him, “What’s happening?”

“Vixere Navis Atern.” he told me his full Landor name.

That caused an instant memory flash. “I remember you now.” An old friend, and he was like an older brother to Marea Amor although not related. “Do you know the present location of Marea Amor?” I wanted to know.

“Approximately.” Vixere answered, as he removed my passport ID card from the terminal, deactivating the force pulling me toward the window.

“Can you take me to her?” I asked him.

“She has just been reincarnated on Earth for one final life in human form.” Vixere told me. “The only way you can see her now is if you are also reincarnated again on Earth.”

“Earth? Human? I only remember that planet as Mirandus, as a Mercatorian. I don’t have memories of any past Mirandian lives. I was told my indwelling spirit took those memories to be reviewed by the Most High Judges.” I reported. “I expected to go down to Mirandus to meet with the Ambassador to Mirandus, in present form, and then be reincarnated. I don’t believe I should have to go through flames to get there.” I said and waved toward the window behind me.

“Right.” Vixere confirmed, “That’s not the way to Mirandus. Not the way to Earth. It is known as Earth by its present human inhabitants. As for the Ambassador to Earth from the Realm of Heaven…”

I turned to Falycia and asked, “Where were you sending me?”

She remained silent, and in the form of a glowing red sphere, but shifted to a darker shade of red and a position closer to the deck.

“It was trying to trick you.” Vixere said. “It remains in the form of a sphere so you’ll not recognize what it is . . . a demon Teznite!”

“Not true!” Falycia protested, “My spirit has been redeemed and born again! I’m a Trinity Angel now!”

“Lucifer and Satan were Trinity Angels.” Vixere remarked, “And, yes, I do know that some Teznite spirits have joined the Realm of Heaven. I see, however, you are not escorted, which is still not lawful, as the probation on Teznite spirits has not yet been lifted. I’m well informed about evil spiritual forces planning to revive the old Lucifer Revolt. I assure you, any attempt they make will fail.”

Before Falycia could reply, another Caeruli soul came running fast around the corner from the main concourse. A Landor, like me. I walked down the ramp, and stood at the passport terminal. When Falycia looked at the new arrival, she backed off a few feet toward the ramp, as if significantly frightened by someone she recognized and had a really bad encounter with at some point in the past.

This is Proximus Etiam Orbis, who was a Landor from Langenth.” Vixere introduced him to me. I barely remembered him. I recalled we shared an interest in architecture, and he worked with me as his apprentice in electronics repair aboard Star Ship Providence.

Using his fin—frontier initial name, Vixere asked him, “What happened, POE?”

“I couldn’t recover our passports.” POE answered. “Station security spirits are about to take a strong interest in our activities.”

“What are you doing?” Falycia demanded to know.

“Silence!” POE shouted, and knocked Falycia up the ramp a few feet, like hitting a large beach ball. “Greetings, MOT.” he said to me. Then he asked Vixere, “Can we use MOT’s passport to get us off of Terrantus?”

“Perhaps . . . if we pass through the exit port to Earth at exactly the same moment. Very critical clockwork.” Vixere answered. “There is a way we can find out if his passport can be used for other souls, or spirits, or triangels.”

“Understood.” POE replied, as Vixere looked toward Falycia and then began to put the card back into the terminal.

You will not get away with this!” Falycia shouted.

POE rushed forward and slammed his superphysical soul into the superphysical red sphere of the triangel, knocking it halfway up the ramp. Then, with the card in the terminal, the activated exit force pulled Falycia the rest of the way up the ramp, then on out through the window. Her spirit vanished into the flickering light.

“Appears to work.” POE observed. “Let’s go.”

“What happened to your passports?” I asked them, as I followed them around into the main concourse corridor curving to our right.

“Long story.” Vixere replied. “No time to explain right now.”

We ran back to the Mirandian corridor control area. I mean . . . the Earth corridor.

Architritia, and the Viridi souls who had arrived from Mirandus—Earth, were no longer in the Mirandian—human corridor receiving area. The dirigen angels were still at their workstations. Some new Viridi souls, apparently having just arrived on Terrantus Station from their creation in the Realm of Heaven, brought in through the hub port, had lined up at the departure port exit door to the Earth corridor. They were about to be born into Mirandian—Earth human life for the first time. The dirigen angels were then focused on preparing to send the souls of green light to Earth. Thus, they didn’t at first notice POE, Vixere, and me, as we entered the area.

“Here.” Vixere said as he handed me my passport. “Best if you use it. Just walk over to the exit port terminal, and put your card into the slot on top. POE and I will handle the rest of the escape plan.”

“I know why I’m going back.” I said, and then asked, “What interest do you have on Mirandus—Earth I mean, that would cause you to want to go back there, instead of ascending into the Realm of Heaven?”

“Ascending into the spiritual heaven—returning to the place where our souls were created—is of course the ultimate goal.” Vixere answered for both of them. “But we want to see our home worlds in the physical universe again, and we don’t want to leave our people behind on Earth. I will explain more later.”

Later?” I replied. “Very well.” I walked past the new souls and over to the terminal. Janitus turned and looked at me just as I inserted my card into the slot. Then Archaltus turned and looked in our direction as the door’s locking mechanism was released. Quickly, Vixere ran to the door and pulled it open, as POE rushed forward and shoved a few of the waiting souls out of the way—in part to create a disturbance to distract the dirigen angels from pursuing us. I heard POE remark to Vixere about having shoved the new souls, “That should give them a taste of what they will experience down there.”

‘Right. Never easy down there.” he replied to POE. “Now, MOT! We have to go together!” Vixere shouted to me.

“The stairs are activated! Hurry!” POE shouted.

I jumped to my right, joining Vixere and POE. Then, the three of us stepped out of Terrantus Station and onto the departure port stairway going down to Earth. As we began to run down the stairs, I asked, “Why did you draw attention to our escape?”

“You’ll see. Just run!” Vixere answered.

“Why would new souls need stairs?” I asked as I ran.

“They don’t.” POE answered, and explained, “These stairs are not really stairs, anyway. For departures from Earth, or from any inhabited planet’s corridor to Terrantus Station, they serve as a kind of recognizable reference point. For departures from Terrantus, they serve as a means to control where new souls are sent. We’ll still have enough aetherian energy gas to breathe en route when the stairs are turned off.”

Turned off?” I shouted to POE, “What do you mean?”

Behind us, I could hear Archaltus at the doorway shout over at Janitus to stop us. Then Janitus apparently flipped a switch on the console panel, resulting in the stairs being turned off. Abruptly, the stairway vanished beneath us, and we began to fall toward Mirandus.

“That did them a lot of good!” I heard POE say, as his fall remained close to mine. “Turning off the stairs will not stop us from reaching Earth and being reincarnated. Without the stairs, they can’t track us to our reincarnation points to retrieve us. I figured they would make that mistake.”

“And we’ll get there much quicker this way!” Vixere shouted, as the speed of his fall increased and took him below me and to my right.

POE, Vixere, and I were like falling stars upon the night side of Earth. We were without flesh to be burned by the SlipField waves in the realm of buffer-space, and then in the atmosphere of Earth our souls did not burn. I doubt that our fall was visible to any living person on the surface of that planet, unless any ghosts down there happened to look up right then.

Vixere was the first to fall beyond my visual range. I did not see where he went, but I now know his fall took him down to London in England.

POE remained near me for a while. As I fell toward the area of the central plains of the northern continent, POE drifted away a few degrees to my left. I watched him vanish into the region of land below, which I did not then know to be the State of Kansas. His fall placed him in Wichita. My fall took me toward the northeast corner to Kansas City—Kansas—not Missouri. Of course I could not see those state boundaries, but I could see the city lights. It was a clear night in Tornado Alley, and I was not returning from the Land of OZ.

Small shooting stars suddenly appeared all around me, coming up from the land below, exploding into bright colorful patterns. Fireworks displays were familiar to me on my home world—Langenth, and thus I considered that to be a good sign regarding my destination.

A black hole appeared in the center of my vision as I looked down. The opening of the final passageway between buffer-space and the physical world. I fell into it. Abruptly, I was enveloped in a vast darkness that was absolutely black.

Now, I know that was Independence Day, of the year 1955. Not my birthday, but when Jean Anne Harrow was about one month pregnant with her second child, a son, as I would become and be named Thomas Jefferson Harrow, about eight months later. Through the looking glass, MOT became Tom…


“All we can imagine is probably not half as crazy as the truth.” – Arthur C. Clarke, 2010: Odyssey Two.

Three years later…

Earth Year 1958 CE, July 4.

Planet Earth, United States of America, Kansas, Kansas City.

Hawthorn Hills, Harrow house.

Dreams, barely remembered upon awakening.

Nightmares, never to be forgotten.

What I’d awakened from, and where, was a struggle to know…

Awareness . . . sensations . . . warmth . . . a soft surface under me . . . the sounds of explosions . . . no noticeable sense of taste or smell . . . I slowly opened my eyes.

I found myself to be on a small bed with bars all around it. I held onto the bars and carefully pulled myself up, trying to stand. It was difficult, as I felt weak. And my size had changed to that of a small physical form. I was unable to access any clear memories of my past—Mercatorian or Mirandian—Earth human.

Suddenly, I noticed a man standing next to the bed. He appeared to be young. He had eyes of vertical ovals, which looked to be familiar to me  . . . standing in front of a mirror, in that fog of memory. He put his left hand on the rail that the top of the bars connected to. A hand of three long fingers, between two opposing thumbs.

I looked to my right hand, then my left . . . hands with four fingers and one thumb on each, I found to be strange and unfamiliar . . . yet familiar perhaps beyond a darker fog.

The stranger was dressed in clothing of a blue material, covering his body, arms, and legs. Then I noticed the pockets. I reached between the bars to put my right hand into one. I found and pulled out a timepiece on a chain. The man did not appear to notice, or pretended not to, as he did not attempt to prevent me from taking it . . . and he did not try to get it back. I sat down and began to examine it.

Sounds of explosions from outside the window by the bed commanded our attention. I crawled over to the other side of the bed, dragging the pocket watch by its chain. Hanging onto a bar, I pulled myself up to look out the window. The man had a better view from his height, and leaning forward over the railing toward the window. We could see several adults and a few children outside, some of them sitting on lawn chairs and others standing on the lawn of the yard. All were looking up at the night sky, watching a fireworks display. I turned around to look back at the strange man . . . then to discover he had vanished from the room . . . leaving his pocket watch behind with me.

I happened to look toward the doorway of the bedroom, as a man and a woman quietly entered. I noticed both had eyes of horizontal ovals, and hands with four fingers and one thumb on each. Both wore short pants and shirts with short sleeves, multi-colored materials. About halfway over to my bed, they abruptly stopped moving. It looked like their eyes had become glazed over. It was as if the flow of time had stopped for them, but not for me. I could still move. The flow of time was not actually altered or stopped. Just my perception of it as a compressed time event.

Right then, I felt a strange force upon me, causing me to look toward what I’m now certain was the southwest corner of the ceiling, that included the upper right corner of the south wall, and the upper left corner of the west wall—the window wall by my bed. Focused on the point where the lines of the three corners met, I became transfixed.

Amazingly, those three upper corners began to slowly fold outwards, curving away from the common point. It was as if a giant monster were standing outside the house, pealing open the walls and roof . . . but not exposing the darkness of the night outside the house. Instead, the darkness of another place, beyond the physical world . . . a darkness that was absolutely black. Each of the outward folding corners formed black triangles of about 45-90-45 degrees as they grew in size. Together, the three triangles formed one large black triangle of equal angles and equal sides. Each side about three feet long when the outward folding stopped.

Next, a single point of light appeared in the center of the black triangle. At first, it looked like a distant star. But then, I could see it was moving . . . coming closer. Suddenly, it split into three points of light, rapidly moving away from each other, on equal paths, which were perpendicular to the center of each side of the triangle. Upon reaching the sides, the three points of light vanished. Then, instantly, a field of multi-colored stars appeared in the triangle, filling the void.

I then felt a voice, sensing the words with my soul, coming out of the triangle. I could not hear the voice with my ears.

“Fear not.” said a male voice, which felt familiar to my Caeruli soul, “I am the Ambassador to Earth from the Realm of Heaven.” He paused a moment, and then said, “It has been difficult locating you . . . exactly 3 years having passed since your fall to the planet you knew to as Mirandus, when you arrived with the Mercatorian expedition nearly 40 thousand Earth years ago.”

I tried to speak, but could not get my mouth to say the words I was thinking: “What happened? Where am I? Who am I? What have I become?”

I could not see him, but he knew my thoughts as if he could see into my conscious mind, and even into the depths of my soul and the superconscious mind therein.

“Remember.” the reply came from the Ambassador beyond the triangle and filled my soul with images of another place and time.

“I am . . . I was . . . MOT . . . Mutarus Tempus Omnia, a Landor from planet Langenth. My parents having been assigned to Agriculture Research Station 601 on colony planet Citra, which became the capital planet of the Mercatorian Empire.” The thoughts of my true self, not of my newest Earth human mind.

“Remember. Star Ship Providence. The Bracatus Mirandus Expedition to the planet the Mercatorians named Mirandus.” the Ambassador told me.

“Mission failed. A mutiny. Star Ship Providence destroyed. The master time capsule mission. Explosion aboard the scout craft. Crashed in ice cold water. Death.” The memories crashed like waves of water upon the beach of my superconscious mind.

“Remember. Terrantus Station.” he told me.

“Red triangel. A demon Teznite. Tried to destroy me.” I could see the image. “Flames beyond the exit port jumper ramp. Lake of Fire.”

“No.” the Ambassador informed me, “The flames were not from the Lake of Fire, but from the corona of a star—a sun, which you could not completely see, because part of the ramp blocked your view from where you stood. The sun of planet Citra.”

“The home of our family after leaving Langenth.” I remembered.

“Lucifer, Satan, and the Prince of Darkness and Deception—who is the so-called devil of the Earth human Christians, are three separate beings. The Prince of Darkness and Deception did not want you to be reincarnated again on Earth—the planet you knew as Mirandus. Falycia, an agent of the Prince, was ordered to send you home, not to harm you. To send you home to Citra, rather than Langenth, so you would not continue to be a threat to the plans to revive the old revolt. And by sending you to Citra, instead of Langenth, it was hoped that your soul would be misplaced within the system for ascensions, to delay your ascending transformations to angelic levels. The Prince could have ordered Falycia to send you to the Lake of Fire in an attempt to destroy you, although a safety system—unknown to the Prince—would have protected you. Why he chose to allow your soul to survive is a mystery of great interest to the Most High Judges, who will judge the Prince when he is finally located and captured. Lucifer and Satan have already been captured, judged, and executed. They exist no more. Even so, just as physical wars cause physical damage, which must be repaired after the war, spiritual wars cause spiritual damage, such as those who have been contaminated by willful evil and sin, like in biological warfare, to be passed on to other victims like a viral disease.” the Ambassador informed me. I did not fully understand what he was talking about, but I got the basic meaning of it.

“Two Caeruli souls helped me to escape from Terrantus Station. What happened to them?” I inquired.

“They have been reincarnated on planet Earth, born into human life, just as you have.” he replied.

“I have been reincarnated again.” I thought about that.

“You have been named Thomas Jefferson Harrow by your parents of this life.” the Ambassador told me.

“I escaped from Terrantus Station, returned to this planet, to seek my spiritual wife, Marea Amor, who was of the Exsequor family from planet Langenth. Where is she now?” I wanted to know.

“Your spiritual wife . . . yes, there were two marriage ceremonies . . . the first for the duration of your lives in the flesh as Landors from Langenth, and the second for the duration of your souls—the spiritual marriage. Marea Amor, who was first born into the Exsequor family, the last royal monarchy on Langenth, who then became Marea Amor Omnia by way of marriage to you when you were Mutarus Tempus Omnia . . . is now Andrea Marie Sterling by way of reincarnation, born into the Sterling family . . . began her final reincarnation on Earth, having been born on the fourth day in the month of July, in the year 1955. Present date being fourth day in July, 1958, her third birthday. She is presently living near the City of London, in the land known as England.” the Ambassador reported.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“Your current location is in a house on lot 7 of Forest Drive in a residential area known as Hawthorn Hills, a few miles southwest of the city named Kansas City, in the State of Kansas, the country known as the United States of America . . . six time zones west of London, your location time is now two hours before midnight, as it is four hours past midnight in London where the date is now the fifth of July. Your fall to Earth from Terrantus Station took place during the same hour, on the fourth day in July, 1955. A soul is usually placed at the moment of birth. However, because of the way you departed Terrantus, not on the schedule I planned, you spent eight months in the womb of your new mother. A Creator Daughter, who was able to intervene with what would have been uncontrolled random placement, selected her. You were born about an hour before noon, on the fifth day of March, 1956. Two years and four months have passed since your birth.” the Ambassador informed me.

“Not much I can do in this form at this time.” I remarked.

“When I sent Architritia to collect you, it was my plan to send you back to Earth to join Marea Amor for one final reincarnation.” he continued. “Then, the diversion planned by the Prince of Darkness and Deception failed . . . and you escaped Terrantus to be reincarnated anyway. At the time of the Mercatorian expedition to this planet, the outbreak of the Lucifer Revolt caused this world and most inhabited planets of the physical universe to be placed under a quarantine, trapping the Caeruli souls on this world until the end of the revolt and the lifting of the quarantine. We still need some Caeruli souls on Earth for two reasons. One, to help us hunt down the evil souls and spirits who are attempting to revive the revolt, including the Prince of Darkness and Deception—who apparently has taken human form again. Two, to recover the master time capsule and all of the time capsules buried by the Mercatorians on this planet, which contain information on how to build a star ship, and the location of the Interstar Trading Worlds. Information that is needed to help build the first Earth human starship. By which means you may be permitted to visit the Mercatorian home worlds, before ascending into the Realm of Heaven.”

“The two creatures in this room with me now are Earth humans?” I asked.

“Yes. Your parents of this life.” the Ambassador answered.

“Who was the stranger in this room, who vanished just before they entered this room?” I wanted to know.

At first, there was no reply. The Ambassador remained silent.

So I continued. “He appeared to be a Mercatorian Landor, and he seems familiar to me . . . but I’m not sure. Who was he?”

“You.” the Ambassador finally answered.

“How is that possible?” I asked.

“A SlipField time travel accident during your life as a Mercatorian Landor, nearly forty thousand Earth years ago, when you worked as a security apprentice at the Amicus Castle Hotel in the City of Thrae on planet Citra. It is partly because of that incident that we were able to locate your soul now. Had we located your soul before your physical birth, we would have moved it to the place where we had originally scheduled your birth. However, we did not know that a Creator Daughter had intervened with a better plan, until now.” he explained. “Also, a different time traveler, of this world, caused an alternate history timeline on which the people of this world today know this planet as Mirandus instead of Earth. That is one of the reasons why the Creator Son assigned to this planet has not yet returned to complete his mission to liberate all of the souls here.”

“I do not remember a time travel accident.” I said.

“You will.” he assured me. “Those memories are deep within your soul, and will eventually surface through dreams and nightmares . . . and as result of events at key turning points in your life, as well as various sensory stimuli triggering relating past life memories. By that I mean certain sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and even the sense of physical contact, experienced in human form may be similar enough to what you experienced during your Landor life to trigger memories of those times and past experiences.”

“Will Marea Amor, I mean Andrea Sterling, remember me?” I asked.

“At the right time and place, you will be reunited with the her. Together, both of you will work to enhance your memories, as well as the memories of other humans who have Caeruli souls, who you will eventually encounter. I do not presently know of the time and place of those events.” he answered. “Others are looking for you, and might eventually find you by using a tracking device hidden in the pocket watch you now have from your Mercatorian past.”

“I feel your voice is familiar. Who are you?” I asked.

“I was once nothing more than a Caeruli soul in a Mercatorian life form, as you were, on Citra, long ago.” the Ambassador told me, “We have met before, and we will meet again. Farewell!” He didn’t say his name.

Abruptly, the walls and ceiling folded back in place, and the normal flow of time continued. I did not understand it then, but now I know that buffer-time was extended from buffer-space into that room to cause a compressed time event.

My Earth human parents began to talk. It is amazing that I am able to remember what they said, and understand it now, although I doubt that I could have been able to fully understand their words at that age back then.

“What’s this?” my father asked my mother.

“He somehow got one of your watches?” she replied.

I still had the time traveler’s pocket watch.

My father took it from me, and examined it. “Not one of mine. This looks like real gold, case and chain. Mine are all silver.”

“One of our visiting relatives?” my mother asked. The big Independence Day event there was also a family reunion. Relatives visiting from other cities, and other countries. As for other planets, well…

“Not likely. Not even the bloody rich one from across the great pond in London.” my father answered. “Look at this! It must be some kind of a gag!” He showed it to her. “Count the hours.”

“Strange symbols on it. Foreign?” Or alien? “Normal numbers for hours. Let’s see…” She counted the division of symbols. “Twenty-five.”

“Just what we need! And, look…” my father said as he examined it closer, “The fourth hand counts a week of eight days! If no one claims it, I’ll save it and give it to Thomas when he goes off to college. He will need an extra hour every day, and an extra day every week, while attending college.” he said, as he put the watch into one of his pockets.

When my parents left the bedroom to go back outside, I turned back to the window to watch the continuing fireworks display. As I did so, my yesterworld became a dream of a nightmare, yet to be remembered.

That is how my human conscious mind interpreted those strange events recorded by my Caeruli soul in the spectrum of blue light.

Tired, I laid back down on the bed . . . and the darkness returned.

It would be a few years until the Ambassador would contact me again. Then the real adventure would begin with a mission to reunite Earth humans who have the reincarnated alien souls from the Interstar Trading Worlds . . . to build Earth’s first starship, to then finally return home.

+ + +

Continued in the short story SUNDAY SCHOOL.

+ + +

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