Homo Avatarius: ( Your Consciousness is an Alien )
Read Homo Avatarius: ( Your Consciousness is an Alien ) Online
Authors: JT Alblood
Tags: #genesis code, #alien, #mongol, #gladiador, #black death, #genghis kahn, #warlord, #time travel, #history
“
HOMO AVATARIUS”
JT ALBLOOD
Son of man, direct your face against Gog, of the land of Magog…
(Book of Ezekiel, Chapter: 38)
Copyright 2015 JT Alblood
Smashwords Edition
Table of Contents
I suppose I regained my consciousness first. My first perceptions were a feeling of lightness, a sweet sense of happiness, and a combined sense of ease and serenity. I scanned my surroundings and saw only a dark sky full of stars. The stars were so bright, so close, so clear, and so numerous. Their colors ranged from yellow to red to blue. I had never seen such vibrance before.
I wanted to lift my head and look around, but it was as if I didn’t have a body or couldn’t move it if I did. I wanted to close my eyes, open them again, and start from the beginning, but, no matter how much I tried to blink, my eyes remained open. The happiness and serenity gave way to desperate fear. In despair, I tried to lift my hands to see them, to stand up, to move and turn around, but nothing made a difference. Suddenly I felt the absence of something that had always been present but now was missing. I had lost my sense of touch. There was no feeling and no gravity. Knowing the reality of such things and being unable to describe their absence caused my brain to wander in wild directions.
I began noticing other things were absent. My sense of hot or cold. My sense of taste. I didn’t even know where my mouth was. My sense of direction was lost. I wanted to scream, but, of course, there was no sound. Waves of panic consumed me and I felt the need to run and escape. Everything was crashing in upon me.
After some time (a concept I now greatly questioned), I felt a wave of something akin to sound: a whine, or something like it. Then I heard, “Welcome, sir!” Even in my helpless state, I perceived those words, and I sensed where they were coming from: from inside. It was an inner voice.
“
Who are you?” I asked, trying to command the mouth I didn’t feel. No sound came out, but it must have been enough to think about speaking because my question was answered.
“
I am the Wake-up Support Protocol.”
“
What? What are you talking about? In a daze, I mumbled through the rapid ideas flooding my mind.
“
Sir, you came here through a difficult process. I am here to re-create your consciousness, answer your questions and to direct you. In fact, you have created me precisely for this purpose. I exist to help you through the difficult process of awakening and transforming into a new form by helping you integrate your newly gained knowledge and experience into your existing—”
“
Wait, wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You said, ‘Welcome.’ Where have I come from?”
“
From Earth.”
My confusion brought silence. I wasn’t ready for such things. This was just too much. “Where am I now?” I asked.
“
You’re in Limbo, sir.”
“
What? Who gave this place such a name?”
“
You did, sir.”
The answer only confused me more and brought more questions.
I tried to remember who I was. Though fuzzy, I thought I remembered everything. Yes. Oktay. My name was Oktay. I was a doctor, yes. My wife, Elif, and then...a TV show. There was a contest, and I had written a book,
The Disjointed Letters
or
The Code of the Disjointed Letters
or something like that. The memories attacked my mind like river rapids barraging the walls of a dam.
There had been a contest, something like
Big Brother
, and somebody had been eliminated each week. I had stayed with the other contestants for weeks. Fatin, with the furious red eyes; Ender, innocent, intelligent, and self-sacrificing. But how had it ended? The last scene was hidden behind a curtain of mystery. Three of us had been left at the end. There had been a miraculous vision of water droplets and an incredible discovery. And they died, yes, I think they died, but I…I passed through a bright tunnel. I… I …
I died… I’m dead.
I began to repeat it to make myself accept it. It was the thing that everybody knew would happen to them but never experienced. Now, it had happened to me. I had died.
What is limbo? Is it the place where people wait to go to heaven or hell? Yes, it must be. And if there is a limbo, then those other places must also exist.
“
What is happening? What are you talking about? What do you mean I named this place “Limbo”? Did I create it like I created you? Am I God? Did I live on Earth in the image of a human and come here to recover? What are you talking about? What am I talking about?”
I emitted a silent scream as a flood of runaway thoughts overwhelmed me and I was seized by an incredible fear.
“
Sir, please calm down. You have just returned from a very difficult life, and this was only one of the countless iterations of a process which is more difficult and more dangerous each time. Each time you wake up here and re-attain the knowledge of your old talents, the process gets harder. However, you have the strength to get over this, just like you did at other times, and that’s why I’m here. As you have many times before, you will regain your abilities by remembering step by step. But first, calm down and don’t torture yourself. Just give yourself some time.”
I tried to count to ten, and then back to zero. When I was done, I said, “Okay.”
“
You are not God, sir.”
This answer made me feel an awkward relief.
“
This is an interim station between the Earth and the Moon. You called this place Limbo when you first arrived here.”
“
What do you mean my former self? Am I not Oktay? Or have I had many lives? Is this place like a reincarnation center or a waiting room?”
“
Sir, you are not ready yet, and I cannot give you any information that might affect the re-construction process. But I can tell you that this is not a reincarnation center.”
“
What is it then? What’s process are you talking about? How long does it take? When will I be able to feel my body? When will I get to eat something?”
“
Sir, please calm down. We will gradually restore knowledge according to the protocol, and then, you will re-learn everything. We have done this many times, although it has been more difficult each time. However, the process must be the same.”
“
Okay,” I said. “I‘m confused but I’m listening.”
“
Good, sir. If you like, I will first tell you about the program and the process.”
“
Yes, yes, of course.”
“
I will present you with the simple version and some of the limited introductory parts. As you experience them again, your memory will gradually regain function and grow stronger. In between the presentations and the memory experiences, you can ask me whatever you want, describe what you remember, and discuss what abilities you have regained. Then, we will continue to the next level to fill in any gaps in your knowledge.”
“
How long does this program take? How many parts does it have?”
“
Sir, you are asking the same questions that you have asked each time, and I have been giving you the same answers. When you don’t perceive something, it means it does not exist; therefore, it is not a loss. Trust yourself—you wrote this program, you organized it, and you defined the parameters between waking and coming back. You even gave it a funny name: Autoconstruction.”
Trust myself?
The program’s advice filled me with apprehension.
“
Sir, if you are ready, I want to start the first stage. I think it is enough to give you a short briefing. This reduced version is a perceptual program that employs selective memory. It will be interrupted in several parts. In other words, it is a montage. The only aim of it is to re-create a connection with your old memories. It doesn’t change what happened because it has already been experienced. You will live, feel, and think as if you do everything of your own free will, but although you will want to, you will not affect the events. Now, if you are ready, sir, I’d like to start.”
“
Wait, wait…what am I going to watch? Who am I going to be?”
“
During the experience, you will not remember what I am about to tell you, but I will tell you anyway, sir. You will partially re-experience what you went through at the start of the thirteenth century as Cuci, the eldest son of Temüjin , also known as Genghis Khan. You will be known as ‘the Guest’ behind ‘The One of Iron.’”
The voice faded away, as did the stars in front of my eyes.
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The ones who follow us are always rewarded with human flesh. That’s why the raptors fly above us and the jackals lurk behind us.
We, who live in tents, sleep on horseback, and wrap ourselves in animal fur, live to fight. We, the wolf herd, will destroy the armor and the walls with our teeth and claws. We do not need to write our history. Others will write it to remember their fear.
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Who is against us? Anyone who gets in our way. We live to fight and capture our enemies, and, unless they are of use as slaves, kill them. My father, Genghis Khan, is the ruler of the lands between all the known seas, and he earned that title by fighting. Those against him always have two choices: die or submit.
Tengri is our path. If we go, it is because we want to go, and if we want to go, everywhere we go is our path. We have no written language, and we have no word for “mercy.” But we do know favors. If an old man travels the steppe with his family in winter, we do him a favor by killing him. This way, he does not have to struggle to survive the cold. We capture his possessions, and, if his women are young, we capture them, too.
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