Wandering in spaceships is becoming less frequent. The Eolis are not space people, nothing beats the good old blue sky above their heads and the warm earth under their feet.
Yanathor had achieved his goal: the Eolis feel at ease in the immaterial cosmic spaceships. They know how to stay aligned with the right vibration, long enough and seriously enough not to need any special supervision, so that they can be left in charge of themselves. Their thoughts about piloting are not wandering anarchically, their group spirit is consistent, their feelings always beautiful. There is no risk of disturbing the subtle egregore of which the vessel is made up, illusion of solidity, thought made tangible.
Do you know what happens if on board of one of these machines you are afraid of something? The egregore, with its extreme devotion, will go to the greatest lengths to make this thing happen. What if you have a conflictual mind? It will do everything in his power to contradict you. To be avoided, given the means at its disposal... It is infinitely better to control your feelings. Only a few well-realized Earthlings would be able to get into these vehicles without special supervision. As for building them...
What if the people of Earth discovered how to build such ships? Unlikely, since a serious spiritual level is required. Should this happen, the Cosmic Guardians are looking: preventing the indiscriminate use of these forces is explicitly within their remit. No Earthling will ever be allowed to use this means to exploit or enslave other beings, not even for commercial purposes.
Ozoard, Orzeilla and other Eolis from Irizdar remained in the village. There always are vacant houses in an eoli village, and any visitor can find a home in two minutes.
The Eolis who lived by this period kept fond memories of it.
Ozoard and Orzeilla work in the gardens like all the other Eolis, once is not customary. But how they work! Him always has some extraordinary story to tell, which captivates his audience. He stands on one of the plots where they sew, sort some nice cotton, pounding up some drink or paint ingredient. And he tells! And they question him, and he goes on! The rhythm of the work does not weaken, on the contrary. Eolis are like that.
Orzeilla prefers the garden. She sings almost all the time, and it is a delight. It must be said that she has a really extraordinary voice, few Eolines could compare to her in this respect. And then you have to see how she picks...
Contrary to what a superficial view might suggest, Eolis all have very different and very asserted personalities. Such Eoline has extraordinary hair, such other a dreamy voice, such other still an extraordinary kindness... However, each Eoli, each Eoline always prefers his or her companion, who, for him or her is really the most extraordinary being he or she can desire. This is beautiful, isn't it?
As often, Anthelme, Elnadjine, Nellio, Liouna and Algenio are together, this time with Selina and Selinao. They are sewing a series of curtains for the doors of the houses. These are real curtains, with rings and strings to pull them, made of a kind of hemp, of which there also is an astonishing variety of colours and shades. They are used to prevent the coolness of the night hours from entering the houses, because the doors have no leaves. Why would they have any?
They have a lot of fun making these curtains, on a special loom, just big enough, which allows for different colours to blend into each other in shades. For this they spin the warp threads just when they are going to use them, mixing the hemp (or cotton) varieties of two different colours in the same thread. This allows them to obtain all the shades, but requires a great deal of coordination between the participants, and a strong sense of colour appreciation! The result is a curtain with fuzzy stripes of the most delicious effect, woven in one piece, to everyone's taste. The curtain loom has no reed, so the stripes are deliciously irregular, and this translucent fabric allows just enough air to pass through. The excess weft threads, after a termination knot, remain to be hung in fringes.
They add wicker rings, and sometimes strings with huge tassels of yarn or incredible colourful tufts. It is a lot of fun to sew curtains! We would not dare to enter the house which is used as a haberdashery! A real Ali Baba's cave. All the delirious and exuberant trimmings illuminate it with all the colours of the rainbow. They hang everywhere, on the walls and from the ceiling. We would laugh ourselves to death. Not that the Eolis did it on purpose: each ornament, alone, is beautiful or poetical, always harmonious. But their accumulation becomes hilarious. They did not do it on purpose, but they noticed it well, for sure... Also in the haberdashery there are baskets for work, which you can take with you to work in the sun, and then bring them back. And of course all the fabric rolls, threads, ribbons, etc... Make yourself the dress of your dreams...
Our friends are in the sun, on one of the village squares, among the curtains. Right next the red birds are cooing, in a nest on the very ground. Two houses away, an Eoline is singing. It is Cheryline, she sings all the time with her sweet and beautiful voice, accompanied by her companion's sweet flute. A small group is busy transplanting flowers, between two pumpkin houses, and from time to time we hear fresh laughter or kisses.
It is mid-afternoon, the Sun of Happiness shines as usual. Sélina and Sélinao are a very united couple, very sweet, speaking little and radiating a gentle joie de vivre. They assiduously attend the souls first aid, but they never talk about it.
«Mmmmh Elnadjine, my beloved, how beautiful is your hair...
- Ah! Uh, yes, my sweet darling, she answers, always moved by this compliment.
- How long, and silky, and soft...
- Mmmmyees,» she wiggles, blushing. And Elnadjine who blushes, it is very pretty!
- How they are... Look, interrupts Anthelm: like that, they make a great curtain tuft tuft!
- OOOOh!»
Everyone laughs at this typical Anthelmesque joke, while he gets a tuft tuft in his mug. A tuft tuft battle? What a pleasant atmosphere! What a beautiful afternoon!
For a minute or two, we hear Ozoard declaiming to a group following him on a nearby path. Bell laughters reply him. Ozoard is quite a specimen. The big game with him is to find all the puns he hasn't thought of: This always get him silent, at least for a minute or two.
«By the way, we did not saw Adenankar for some days now, I think.
Liouna replies: We are preparing something with Yanathor.»
At once everyone's curiosity is aroused...
«He wanted us to be a team. I think he has an idea, maybe to go to Earth in a spaceship.»
At these words all the needles come to rest.
«He wanted few people to know about it, probably to avoid arousing too many emotions. Anyway, it is going to happen very soon. Next night, no doubt. I shall go, Adenankar and Milareva too, of course, with Asteron and Dulcine of Irizdar. Perhaps they will invite others among us at the last minute. Tonight we are meeting at the Adenankar tree, for a meditation circle.»
Work resumes in silence. Everyone understands what this means. They will probably see Aurora, perhaps make contact with her. Exactly how, and in which extent? Only Yanathor knows. In any case, a crucial and irreversible event is imminent.
At night, as planned, Algenio sees Liouna getting up and going out discreetly. Ah! How he would like to accompany her! But what is said is said. He does not move, although his little heart beats the drum.
Later, when she returns, he cannot avoid to question her.
«Yes, my beloved. All is well. It is for the next night, and no doubt there will be room for more than us.»
The next night, to their surprise, Elnadjine, Anthelme and Algenio are invited. To their even greater surprise, Selina and Selinao see the white fairy Milarêva coming on, who asks them to follow them, as a counterweight of Serenity.
Shivering in the cool night air, among the last songs of the crickets and the scent of wet hay, they head towards the Guardian camp, which can easily be spotted with the blue light emanating from it, above the foliage. Since light flowers do not grow in trees, the later usually form black masses in the night: the signal is then more visible.
It is not the small camping dome which awaits them. It is right there, motionless in its corner. But the light comes from a vast luminescent sphere, or rather a smooth blue egg, the size of a (Earth) house. From the bottom of this egg, emanates a vertical beam, white as the day, where nocturnal insects constellations glitter and flutter. Yanathor, Ellebon and Auranaïa are there, plus two other blue silhouettes.
The atmosphere is of a joyful tension, a contained overexcitement, both pleasant and serious. Yanathor whispers directives, the others answer him in their incomprehensible but beautiful language. The Eolis have landed on the horizontal branch of a nearby tree, barely visible in the darkness. There even is Nellio, the sweet Milarêva on his side. Ah, they have done a good job, the Guardians.
The two unknown guardians climb into the ship, as if sucked up by the beam of light. Yanathor approaches the Eolis, his hand outstretched in a dynamic and joyful invite gesture.
«Come!»
Shivering with delightful emotion, they fly toward the lower opening of the ship, from where the intense white light emanates, like a ray of sunlight. Nellio's heart beats in his chest. What does he think in this moment?
They pass through a scintillating ballet of night insects, attracted by the light, and enter, immediately followed by the three Guardians.
Here they are in a circular room, like the ones in their houses. The walls are of a deep, clear blue, both matt and radiant from within. This uniform lighting eliminates almost all shadows. Shelves and other unknown structures cover nearby all the walls. On the ceiling a large lens is rounded off, from which the carrier beam emanates. It goes out as the hatch in the floor closes.
Some of the scent of the night has entered with them.
There reigns a quality of soft, warm and complicit silence, a scent of kindness, plus a perfume, subtle, but which no habituation lets us forget.
Here are the two new Guardians they do not know. Yanathor introduces them: «Orgon and Yerda. We are in their patrol ship, which is also their home.»
Orgon is dressed in dark blue, like Adenankar, with a broad-sleeved robe with golden greek patterns running around. His full black, curly hair and beard give him a radiance of power, contrasting sharply with the softness of his eyes and the warmth of his smile. Even more than Yanathor, his skin is intensely blue.
Yerda has a lighter skin, sky blue, and almost white hair, iridescent with a hint of mauve, which barely reaches her temples. Her dress only extends down to a third of her thighs, which is astonishing to the Eolis. She seems frail and tiny next to Orgon.
The turquoise dress of Yerda and the indigo dress of Auranaïa both seem to be made of pure light, in a glittering enchantment. Auranaïa has magenta, violet and blue stars and constellations, Yerda only a plain but very luminous turquoise blue.
Yanathor is tonight dressed in plain, one-piece tights, and the blond Ellebon in his long blue dress which makes him look like a druid.
So many blues! And Liouna, Algenio and Nellio, Anthelme and Adenankar, and even more Dulcine. Fortunately, Milarêva is in white, Elnadjine in peach, Astéron, Sélina and Sélinao in orange. The yellow and pink insignia of the Eolis seem to shine in contrast... What a great team is taking the road to the stars tonight!
Orgon delicately greets the Eolis, placed on a small table prepared for them.
«Welcome aboard our home ship, friends of Aeoliah.
- Welcome to our aura», said Yerda.
She does not need to put it into words: from the very first moment they felt here in friendship, in peace. Yerda's voice (which they would not hear any more from the whole night) is in stark contrast with her tiny appearance. She is worth Orgon, about power.
On the wall, an opening shows a kind of indigo sky: a door. Orgon waves his hand to follow them, enters the passage with Yerda. The Eolis, with the three other Guardians behind them, fly hesitantly, crossing this magic door. The indigo sky dissipates to make way for a second circular room, larger, all in shades of blue, surrounded by benches and cupboards represented only by a particular colouring of the wall at this place. A large round bed occupies the middle of the room, which also places it at the geometric centre of the vessel. On a shelf awaits a basket of Aeoliah fruit, decorated with leaves, probably harvested especially for the Eolis.
The vast domed ceiling of this room also radiates an iridescent blue. The benches and the bed are just more matt. The top of the bed (or at least what looks like one) is blurred, with no trace of bedding or fabric. The ultramarine blue floor is also blurred, like a carpet of mist. This sober place is nevertheless of a great beauty, only from its noble «materials», by the purity of its harmonious and soft forms, which no ornament, no overload of details. This room so clean seems new, uninhabited, and yet, what peace, what intimate warmth, and also what mystery emanates from these indigos quivering with inner light...
From the door through which they came in, only a portion of blue sky remains here as well, a sort of immaterial curtain. Another similar one opens in the opposite wall. Here it is, in turn, pulsating with a supernatural purple. Still preceded by Orgon, they engage in it once again, in an almost total silence: the ground does not reflect the sound of footsteps, and even the Guardians's clothes do not rustle, only a little the wings of the Eolis, which from time to time utter intimidated exclamations.
Here they are this time in a third room, which at first seems obscure. In fact the ceiling is a sort of canopy, a transparent dome in one piece, forming the top of the ship. It is almost as if they were outside in the night, they can even smell the damp foliage around them! The trees are still reflecting the blue luminescence, illuminating people and the room with a mysterious glow.
This «terrace» is surrounded by a bench. In the centre awaits a round table, bearing small domes, like screens, for now all of a deep ultramarine.
«Our working room, introduces Orgon. As soon as you are ready, we can take off».
They exchange a few words with each other.
«One moment, interrupts Anthelme.
- Yes, inquires Yanathor.
- There is something I do not understand. The three rooms are horizontal, and here we are at the top of the ship. What happened to the ship?
- What's odd about that? Oh, yes. You're right, Anthelme. The three rooms are actually stacked one on top of the other inside the ship. It is when you walk through the doors that you go up or down a floor without realizing it.
- How is that possible?
- Just remember. Each room inside the ship is a separate piece of space, totally independent from the rest of the universe, with no physical connection to anything else. Compared to the outside they are nowhere. It is then easy to connect them together as you want, for example when you go through a door. There never are passageways or stairs in the ships. If you wish, you can go back through the door and «go down» directly to the lower room, without going through the middle one. It is difficult to imagine this for an Eoli mind, but it is very practical.
- It is a challenge to geometry.
- It is not a challenge at all. It is quite the ordinary Euclidean geometry of this universe, but applied to limited portions of space which mutual connections can be modified as we wish. We can make paradoxes like Escher's Staircase, the three-dimensional Moebius Ribbon, and even more squat tricks like inverting a dimension of space and time, or curved spaces, as in some of our ships. But we do not show these things to beings whose motor and sensory systems would not allow them to be comfortable with them.
- Mmyeah» concludes Anthelme, even more stunned than his friends by the logical and paradoxical architecture of the ships' interiors.
«I have an idea that it is not tomorrow that you will show us», concludes Sélina philosophically.
«What if we put the other side of the door in connection with a black hole?
- That would make a great vacuum cleaner» laughs Yanathor. He resumes his guidance:
«Aeolian friends, we could visualize ourselves already on Earth, without crossing the space between here and there. But I suppose you will enjoy the spectacle of the journey?
- Oh yes, of course!»
Without a word, the Guardians arrange themselves around the room and sit in lotuses, on poufs adorned with rosaces. Only Yanathor stands next to the Eolis, who all landed on one of the consoles.
No sooner is the silence established, than the ship glides towards the heavens, in infinite calm and gentleness... The trees stop reflecting its light and the marvellous Aeolian night takes all its rights again.
In the firmament the constellations glitter, with the golden ring that the night begins to eat, towards the East. On the ground shine the stained-glass windows of the light-flowers, a fantastic fairy tale of colours and shapes...
Below them, the stunning nocturnal panorama of Aéoliah unfolds. The mountains and forests are cut out in black on a shimmering background of velvety colours, full of jewels.
The turquoise lake where the Irizdar River flows is all illuminated in the same colour; the sumptuous carpet of the Aeolian Amazon, encrusted with rubies, emeralds, topaz and amethysts of light, unfolds as far as the eye can see, towards a horizon that seems like a blue dawn. Looking toward the mountains, valleys of gold, sapphire or ember are revealed successively.
Suddenly the horizon in the west (on the mountain side) splits with a pink flash, illuminates itself with mauve, gold, then the Sun springs out, blazing, triumphant: They have caught up with the sunset!
But they are already so high that the sky is black, studded with stars in spite of the bright Sun. The blue limb of the planet is getting rounder, stretching out to the west, becoming crescent.
Then the movement freezes. They are right up against the ring. It seems to be a few dozen metres away from them, even though it is actually huge. (Almost a thousand kilometres wide. But it is very faint, in fact, and it is only visible to the Eolis on the ground because they are looking at it from the edge). It is, seen from here, a throbbing hurricane of golden dust. The ship takes up the motion and follows the seemingly undulating stream, rushing like the rump of a galloping animal, like the impetuous flow of a river. It is made of dust and gravel, plus iron shot. The latter sometimes forms beautiful volutes during magnetic storms. (A detail of the ring would pass through the image of the Moon in about five seconds. It completes a full rotation in two and three-quarters hours, reaching its orbit at 31,300 kilometres per hour, peaking at 5,200 kilometres above the ground. Calculate the diameter and density of Aeoliah!)
At present, the vast flow is steady, and it rushes to a point where it seems to disappear, absorbed in the planet's shadow.
Even Yanathor seems absorbed in contemplating this fascinating spectacle.
«This is great, but it is even more beautiful in the astral», comments Elnadjine.
Yanathor looks at her, somewhat surprised. He nods, and the transparent dome-ceiling starts to show... the astral.
Anthelme does not question Yanathor about this new wonder: he understands that «the isolated portion of space inside the ship», as his guide would say, can «be related to any point in the universe, or to another universe, thus showing everything we want, other universes, the astral, the pure lands of paradise, and even the dream of a sleeping person». Well.
It is indeed even more beautiful in the astral! Imagine millions of Eolis constantly leaving and returning to their planet, stopping there to admire it. Their auras, multiplied to the infinite, are enriched by group egregores, sometimes true multicoloured suns, fireworks, bright or quiet, joyful and marvellous!
But the dome not only translates the abstract realities of the astral into light and images visible to the eye, it also makes us feel their true nature: a marvellous bouquet of emotions, joy and enthusiasm, pleasure and tenderness, an immense poetic hubbub of calls and living thoughts!
The marvellous Guardian's ship is much more than a simple transportation means, it is a true inter-dimensional doorway, capable of interconnecting the strangest and most opposed planes. Do not forget, fellow readers, that the word «Kosmos» does not refer so much to the cold interstellar void as to the Order of the Universe, and the set of Laws which govern the organization and manifestation of all what exists, and in particular the Laws of Life, until what we call Good and Evil. Anthelme then understands the true nature of the Guardian's body: it is not of pure matter, neither of pure thought, it does not belong to any particular plane and it can live in any plane, in a universe of thought, in a material universe, whatever its properties. Yanathor could just as easily land on a planet with a suffocating atmosphere of chlorine, and breathe life and Prana with the same delight as its legitimate inhabitants! He could live and express himself in pure lands, in the astral where the forms of the bodies are translations of desires, he can even appear in our dreams.
Yanathor could as well live without appearance at all, and he takes one only to be accessible to the beings he wants to contact. Yes, but... Then why does he eat? Why is there a bed in the ship? No one ever saw a Cosmic Guardian sleeping. Anthelme realizes that there still is a lot he does not understand. The Cosmic Knights won't let all their mysteries be taken so easily.
Slowly Aeoliah moves away, a blue crescent on a background of stars, with, near the pole, a white spot: the clouds which cover this place most of the time.
The Sun of Aeoliah diminishes, fades, becomes a star among the others... The ship is now well beyond the speed of light, without any particular difficulty, since they are «not there». In any case the resulting Doppler and Einstein effects are perfectly compensated by the dome to show an image understandable to their thoughts.
In the sidereal darkness of the Infinite, the nearby stars begin to slide, by perspective... O powerful moment: the familiar constellations come alive, open up... A dazzling ember passes on their left: they have passed the first star... Others come in their turn. Soon they pass through a cloud of glowing dots, some fleeting ones jump on them sharply, others more powerful but more distant drift slowly to the sides, and always the formidable spectacle of the constellations unfolding faster and faster! The movement accelerates, becomes a continuous rain of fiery, sometimes dazzling strokes of fire: so many suns, so many worlds!
The marvellous shower lasts a moment, then fades away: they have emerged from the bulge of their galaxy, but in front of them a long serpent of stars and embers swells as they approach: a spiral arm, full of giant stars and galactic clouds ionized by their fires, a flood which suddenly envelops them and passes like a gust of incandescent hurricane, in the most complete silence.
The glass dome now amplifies the light emanating from the galaxies. Behind it, the one of Aéoliah, seen from the edge, is already a spiral of a beautiful size, with a large bulb. In this splendid golden halo, how can we now discern their sun among these tens of billions of stars?
The local group appears as a whole, behind them, contracting with the rapid advance of the ship. There are half a dozen spirals, a ribbon of small ellipticals, and a giant, yellow as a halo of sunlight, the one with the quasar, in the centre of the cluster. At their extraordinary speed, time now seems to go backwards for these galaxies: amazed, our friends can clearly see the spiral arms glittering like fireworks: the life and death of the thousands of giant stars which form and die there. Almost they would see the arms rotating in reverse!
But already they are going too fast: other galaxies, other groups are passing by, and the ship continues its tremendous acceleration: it is now a shower of galaxies passing by so fast that all distance markers are soon abolished. Perhaps they are already far beyond the cosmological horizon.
The stunned Eolis look at each other, at the room and at the Guardians, who themselves are watching them with smiles on their faces. What a contrast between the wild rush outside and the warm, gentle friendship which reigns here! Elnadjine has embraced Anthelme with her arms. All is hushed silence, sweet complicity. Auranaïa, absorbed, lets her palpitating enchantment radiate gently. Ellebon and Orgon are concentrated and relaxed at the same time. Yerda seems tiny in her corner, but her smile is sovereign.
Outside, the inconceivable surge of trillions of worlds, a blaze of golden or bluish lightning, with a muffled rumble, perfectly perceptible, like the crash of a rock being dragged: the dome transmits in sounds the gravitational irregularities of the space they cross at such a crazy pace, and the ship quivers on these bumps of the universe. The distant seem to flicker, too, as if seen through the moving surface of a liquid.
Yanathor sits with a calm, relaxed, neutral face. Yet at this grave moment all the tremendous power of the Guardians is moving the Eolis with a poignant emotion. A formidable power irrevocably at the service of goodness, kindness, smiles...
The mad race slows down, suddenly freezes.
They have before them two beautiful spiral galaxies, plus a few smaller ones. As they are still approaching quite quickly, time is still compressed and supernovae flashes palpitate and sparkle in the spiral arms.
As they are still approaching, one of the two galaxies fills half the sky, and suddenly a spray of stars rushes around them again. Incandescent clouds, pink, green or black, slide by their side: Orion's spiral arm. Once again they rush through a shower of white ember. The movement slows down, then finally freezes into a landscape of constellations that we on Earth know well.
In front of them, one star among others stands out, growing larger and more dazzling... Our Sun! What a fascinating vision that this imperceptible point of light becomes the star of a world!
Two crescents emerge from this ocean of light, a small dark one and a big blue one. The small one becomes the Moon, and the big one the Earth, which they see at its last quarter. They approach it by the terminator, the line where the Sun sets.
The Blue Planet swells as they approach, its networks and volutes of clouds resolve in all their complexity.
The first visible land is the Sahara, a large yellow patch which can be seen from afar.
«But it has grown! Liouna exclaims in dismay.
- Yes, it has grown, Yanathor replies gravely.
- But it has... How is it possible? Has there been such a climate change on this planet?
- No, not in such a short time. It must be said that it is the people of Earth themselves who are wreaking this havoc. You know that in their unconsciousness they eat... ...what modesty forbids to repeat. So they need a lot of herds, which them graze intensively on all the vegetation, not even allowing time for the grasses to make flowers and seeds to perpetuate themselves. Then the desert advances... Drought follows the sheeps, because the grass and trees are no longer there to regulate the rainfall. This has been going on for five thousand years, at a rate of two hundred metres a year; but for the last ten or twenty years it has been accelerating, one kilometre a year and more, because now they are poisoning their air by burning a lot of oil and coal in it. Carbon dioxide increases the natural greenhouse effect, which increases temperature and drought even more. They are destroying the mother forest that is responsible for regenerating the air. They're... They have very little time left to learn to love and respect their planet.» (Author's note: This was written in 1989. This was not a prophecy, but already well-known facts at that time. If by the time you did not heard of it, it is because the media you were hearing had deliberate contempt of you).
Eolis are flabbergasted by such ignorance, pushed as far as suicide. Certainly our friends who are soul helpers know more about evil than their friends in the village; but even them had not suspected its extent, its dimensions of a planetary catastrophe.
«Can't we explain it to them?
- Hmm. It is very difficult, because they only accept «their truth» and don't even listen to their own scientists who have been sounding the alarm for fifteen years now.
- But you Guardians have the means to stop them.
- Yes, we do, but they would probably say it was an alien attack. The light can only come to them from their own free will, and if the death of their planet is the price they want to pay for learning Wisdom, what do you want us to do about it? Which is why we must be content, much to our regret, to be the Silent Watchers.
- What if they break everything before they can complete their evolution?
- Those of good will can easily find other planets to continue learning under good conditions. But those who have contributed to the destruction, whether through their evil deeds or from their passivity, will have to wait immense lengths of time, billions of years, or more, to find a world which accepts them, and then they may have to do with painful and difficult conditions.»
They then understand all the beauty and ambiguity of this magnificent globe, where this pathetic game between consciousness and nothingness is played. No doubt the terrible suspense will last until the final decision...
They are now in the aura of the Earth, and an uneasiness takes them. An inextricable mixture of Hope and anguish, joy and terror, with black flashes of unimaginable suffering, still dominated by that atrocious, sticky, unspeakable torpor which emanates from all those who could do something, but do nothing. Light and darkness inextricably intertwined... Fortunately, their marvellous vessel immediately isolates them from these deleterious vibrations, because quickly the subtle vibratory metabolism of the Eolis would go haywire. The gentle, friendly and warm atmosphere regains its sovereignty. No doubt Yanathor voluntarily let them taste the Earth's aura, before carefully protecting them from it. Nobody asks for more.
Beneath them, a continent takes shape, half into the night side. Brittany and Spain still display a few nimbus golden with sunlight. The terminator crosses Greenland, Morocco and Africa. The cities of Germany and its network of motorways glitter against the ultramarine backdrop. Further in the dark we see those of Poland, Austria and the USSR. The immense flares of the oil fields of Arabia palpitate on the horizon, and in the north the purple veils of the aurora borealis undulate like a moving forest of light.
Once again, they are all bewitched by this formidable landscape, at the same time a pathetic and inspiring splendour. Nellio above all, we can imagine, is fascinated by the vision of this majestic planet where, somewhere, in a body he does not know, his lost love is to be found.
The immense map of Europe which spreads out before their eyes rises and grows larger towards the ship which seems to go freewheeling, in the purest calm. Networks of hills, villages and fields drowned by twilight become more detailed below. The horizon stretches upwards, the sky brightens, becomes pink to the west. It is a beautiful winter evening which is ending in a corner of France.
The Eolis are fascinated by this strange world of which they do not know much, not even the ones who have been there in the astral, for the soul first aid. What are all these powerful regularly spaced lights? Are they houses? And those black lines with yellow and red fireflies? And those strange green and ochre squares, where they would expect to find meadows, gardens, forests? And that needle-like cloud which follows a glittering fly?
The ship is now following an horizontal trajectory, above a green and soft landscape, occasionally cut by a lazy river, or the fires of a city. In places, there are patches of evening fog, which the Eolis see purple. They are still slowing down, descending little by little. Trees are now visible, roads, strange square houses as big as trees, the bell tower of a village, fields. Then they stop, about three hundred meters high, near a village which houses seem gigantic to the Eolis. They are totally invisible from below, absolutely undetectable by radar and even lidar, invulnerable to anything, even a nuclear explosion.
«We have arrived, Yanathor simply says.
«Perhaps you will be a little disappointed, but it is still too early to show youself to Aurora. But you will be able to look at her. To do that, you have to stand in this dome, on the table. It is transparent only from inside».
Yes, the Eolis are a little disappointed, but they do not think for a second at questionning the word of the Guardian. With Adenankar and Milareva in the lead, they enter the small dome, which is indeed transparent from the inside. There are carpets and pouffes at their size, more fruit that they will event not think at tasting them at all.
The door of the little dome closes. Then it reopens for a second on a last facetious joke of an hilarious Yanathor: he goes in and out again immediately, at the size of an Eoli. Ah, those doors! Sacred geometry! Holy Guardians!
* * *
Brigitte is still walking at the other end of the village, in a sloping field with a beautiful view. The sunset is beautiful tonight, full of pink cirrus clouds turning purple. But the heart is not there. For months now, she has been going to see the sunset almost every sunny evenings.
Brigitte is bored.
She has no purpose, no activities. Well, she paints, gets by, plans to switch to acrylic, to make real paintings of a better world. But it is boring to paint all the time!
Her mystical and spiritual activities continue, but at a slower pace, without exuberant manifestations. No doubt she has taken a step forward, which it is now a matter of consolidating.
But the true spiritual life is lived in the world, in action. Her hindsight enabled her to take a step forward, but now she feels isolated in her little corner of countryside where she knows nobody. There are the birds, the trees, the grasses, and above all the Grand Silence. It is a lot, it even is a luxury now in Europe. But it is not enough for her: she also needs people.
Sitting in the yellowed grasses of the past season, she contemplates the glowing red horizon where the black silhouettes of the trees stripped bare by the winter can be seen. The stream murmurs in the hollow at the bottom of the meadow. The bell tower rings, with that touching and gentle sound that the country bells which cradled our childhood still have. An immense calm descends on nature.
Despite this beauty, Brigitte suddenly feels an embrace of sadness, as if the disappearance of the Sun meant the end of Light, the end of Hope. Even though she relaxes, even if she tries not to grasp on to this emotion, it is a signal to her: this life cannot last.
And it does not.
Brigitte shivers with the freezing cold which embraces nature in its claws. As she prepares to get up, a gentle and kindly warmth invades her heart. It is like a presence, a knock-knock at the door, a happy guest who arrives unexpectedly. «Hello, are you ready?» he seems to be asking.
Brigitte, happy and intrigued, opens herself up to the sweet invisible presence. What does it want? To make herself more receptive, Brigitte goes into meditation...
Suddenly, the grass whispers behind her: steps.
She turns around quickly thinking of some villagers. Oh no, not now!
First of all, she does not really understand who it could be. It is half dark, she cannot see the colour of his skin, maybe he is black. He is bald, wears tights all over his body and a huge muffler around his neck, with both an indefinable youthful charm and something foreign and mysterious. He looks at her nonchalantly, motionless, a few steps away. It is from him that emanates this soft and warm radiance infusing Brigitte's mind.
«Bonsoir, Brigitte» he does in good French, with a vibrant, warm and pure voice like no other.
«Tonight, I am telling you, you won't be bored any more.»
Who could he be? How does he know her so well? She immediately feels sympathy for this strange unknown man.
«How would you like a little trip in our interstellar ship?» And the blue sphere glides towards them, almost like the colour of the ultramarine sky. What about Brigitte's feelings, her wonderful surprise? How would you feel if you were in her place? Astonishment, disbelief, excitement? Surely you would be in one of those borderline states which happen only during the most extraordinary events, and which exhaust all our superlatives!
The ship comes to a standstill a few meters from them. The carrier beam bursts forth, illuminating the surrounding area. Brigitte then discovers the marvellous blue skin, the noble and regular features of her visitor, and above all his smile... She trembles, almost totters, Yanathor must catch her by the arm. What a wonderful contact! She does not feel a hand squeezing her, but only a soft warmth...
«Would you like to come for a little while?»
He gently repeats his request, as if she was a little girl.
With her throat tied, her heart pounding in her chest, she would be totally unable to answer! But she walks forward, contemplating this scene as if it was not real...
She enters the beam, followed by Yanathor.
Slowly the beam lifts them up, into the entrance room. The hatch closes without a sound on the darkness of the night.
Yanathor removes his gigantic muffler. «It's freezing in your land!». Then: «Good thing I'm not sensitive to the cold!» On this joke he bursts out laughing, dragging Brigitte along. She contemplates the place, the simple room with iridescent walls, blue and immaterial like the sky. She contemplates the marvellous blue skin of her host, his huge eyes, his communicative smile. Everything here is light and softness, beauty and warmth, even if blue is normally a cold colour!
«This is only the luggage hold. Do you want to come and see the apartments?"
Just like the Eolis à moment ago, Brigitte crosses the magic doors, in awe, through the blue room with its wonderful Harmony, then arrives in the high dome where the other Guardians and the Eolis are waiting for her. They are invisible under their little bubble, but you can guess they are as moved as she is. She contemplates in turn the powerful Orgon with his king's hair, the discreet Yerda who smiles at her, Auranaïa who has lowered all her lights, because her only sight is already at the limit of human emotions, and finally Ellebon, sitting nonchalantly, who gets up to welcome her. Everything has happened so fast that her mind is as if empty, unable to think...
Yanathor introduces everybody, and each in turn they smile to Brigitte.
Everything in this place breathes Peace, Beauty, Purity, there is no room for any trouble, no evil! It is so poignant, that Brigitte cries softly, of Happiness, in the complicit silence of the Guardians. They very kindly respect her emotion and wait for her to finish...
Orgon, Ellebon and Yerda sit around the central table, and the screens in front of them come alive with incomprehensible colours or signs.
Brigitte finally gathers herself, and, with a wet face, asks: «But who are you?
- Well, probably what you call extraterrestrials.
- Who are very happy to have found an extra terrestrial», says Ellebon, again quietly sitting on his pouf. They laugh with delight. Little by little Brigitte feels at ease, and a warm sympathy replaces the poignant emotion of the surprise. Yanathor says: «Our homeland is the Universe without limits. We are the Guardians of the Divine Creation.»
How sweet those words sound in Brigitte's ear! How true and beautiful everything here seems to her! The immaterial clothes of the Guardians... Their fabulous eyes, a purple light for Orgon, light green for Yerda, plus the interstellar green of Auranaïa... The walls of pure light, pure colour, assorted between the soft summer sky, aquamarine, deep indigo and purple, bewitching violet... The little bubble in the middle of the room, which seems to radiate a gentle mystery, gradually turned from indigo to pink... (The Eolis, they had to signal their presence)
But above all, Brigitte powerfully feels that in such a place absolutely nothing bad can happen: she is in the normal universe, everything here is pure Harmony, pure Peace, pure Light! It is a state of absolute Confidence, so intense that it is almost tangible!
«How beautiful everything is here! Everything is simple, peaceful, clear, transparent... Even your names are superb... Auranaya, it sounds much higher than Dupont, doesn't it?
- Auranaïa, friend of the Earth» she gently corrects, with her wonderfully sweet voice, letting the sounds «Au» and «A» dissolve in the infinite indigo. She continues: «These not really are names. We do not need to identify each other, for each of us feels the vibration of the other. But sounds carry vibrations, so we translate our own vibrations into sounds which are audible to you.» When Auranaïa speaks, all is said. Anything is possible. This is her power. The soft, sweet, round, finished sounds continue to live on in the silence.
Again they commune in silence and smiles. Brigitte, passed the surprise, now feels wonderful, even familiar, as with old friends. She realizes that she is dealing with exceptional beings, far superior to her, but so kind, so attentive that this difference leaves intact the gentle warmth which is setting between them.
The dome ceiling darkens, letting the night sky show through.
«A stroll in space?» Yanathor asks as we offer a cup of tea.
He asks the question, but already the night scenery is sinking beneath them, dotted with the lights of cities and villages. Brigitte rises from her seat, dumbfounded, to stick her nose against the canopy. The atmosphere is already only a pink band in the west, from which the glory of the sun quickly emerges. As before with the Eolis, they have caught up with the sunset, the horizon is growing, limpid, and soon Brigitte contemplates the planet, her planet, from space, a fantastic spectacle which always moved all sentient beings who have had the rare happiness of contemplating it! As they go around it from the day side, the two Americas are clearly visible, of a deep blue-green which does not differ much, to be noted, from the oceans overseas. The deserts of Mexico and Arizona are more noticeable, the Atacama, and the agonizing blanket of smoke which has been invading Brazil for several years now. (Author's note: this was written in 1989. This was not a prophecy, but already well-known facts at that time. If by the time you did not heard of it, it is because the media you were hearing had deliberate contempt of you.)
The ship is moving away... Towards the Moon. A little trip around the Moon? In some seconds the powerful spectacle of the craters becomes clearer, the rays which spread through the so old seas of frozen basalt...
The ship starts a loop which leads it around the aster of the nights, by the hidden side. It slows down enough to show the landscapes of mountains and craters worn by time, studded with more recent impacts. Brigitte admires with all her eyes, with all her being... But already the vision of the ancient brown rocks moves away and the Earth reappears above the lunar horizon... They're heading that way again.
Brigitte then realizes that the marvellous encounter will end, in some tens of minutes at most. A kind of disarray seizes her. She had left her illusory and sad world to finally meet the real reality, the real life she had sensed for so long! And she will have to go back to that dark and cold world...
Fortunately, her gentle companions, or perhaps the ship itself, comfort her and absorb the negative feelings, even before they invade her consciousness.
She looks at the approaching Earth sphere. How beautiful She is, still... How can anybody imagine that its inhabitants might not like Her?
«Yes, it is beautiful...» adds Yanathor, who seems to be able to read all her thoughts easily, but never indiscreetly. The ideal confidant. She has so much to say! So much! She could cry on his shoulder. Yet she does not feel like crying. He sympathizes in thought, and somewhere she feels him pumping out all sadness and radiating his sweet sympathy. At this moment Auranaïa opens a little bit her magical aura. What Brigitte receives from it is as intense as a red iron of happiness... She will keep a «mark» of it: she will now be able to invoke this magnificent emotion whenever she wants! She will never be depressed again!
As the blue disc gets closer, Yanathor speaks.
«Brigitte, or rather Aurora because this is your real name, I cannot tell you everything tonight, and we shall have to meet again. You should know that under this little dome, which has had turned pink without my permission, (he taps it nicely, and the ultramarine colouring comes back quickly) awaits you a very pleasant revelation. I would almost envy you, imagine. You have indeed accepted a very interesting mission, one day, or rather one night, when you were still a little girl. I remember it perfectly, but on your side nothing has remained in your memory of flesh and blood. And yet it is you who chose to live what you are living tonight.
«I also have to tell you another piece of pleasant news. For you suffering is a thing of the past. The biggest one, at least. Your adventure with that unfortunate Frédérique had its origin in a distant past that we shall not recall to your memory. You have finally solved this problem, but not completely. Some erroneous structures still linger in your consciousness. And you still have to forgive this poor wretch who wanders in the darkness.»
«Yes», replies Brigitte, choking a sob.
In this place and at this time, Brigitte is completely herself, out of any negative influence, and her «yes» came out with total and spontaneous sincerity. But she knows it will not be easy once she gets back down the ground. Yanathor knows it too, but his words are devoid of the slightest nuance of accusation or judgment.
She remains for a moment contemplating the Earth, her beautiful planet.
«We are above the Himalayas.»
Brigitte looks at a dark zone: it is the night over Tibet, while the cities of India and China are glisterng...
Slowly they skirt the planet, entering its shadow. The Earth intercepts the Sun, which disappears, illuminating the whole limb with a splendour of incandescent pink, a vast ring of fire, haloed by solar wind... They're getting closer.
Once again the lights of the cities make their constellations. And also the fires which are ravaging the forest in Africa...
«Aurora» is a name I like. It is very pretty.
- Of course you like it. It matches your deep vibration.»
The dome becomes bright and opaque again. How much time passed since Brigitte has been here? Minutes or hours?
Yanathor gets up, followed by the others.
«Come. But before you go back down, we can record these moments in your memory. If you want, you can relive the emotions of that night with equal intensity every time you meditate on them. Or if you prefer, if you feel that it would be too disruptive, we can erase the memory of...
- Never! cuts Brigitte-Aurora. No, it was too beautiful... It is like coming out of a tunnel in the sun... I never want to forget.
- It is okay», answered Yanathor with a smile, «we are going to fix, not erase. Stand over there.»
It is a seat, apparently like the others. She sits on it, and the Guardians lay themselves out all around it, in meditation.
The operation lasts a minute, during which she feels absolutely nothing special. Then they get up.
«There you are. the moment came to leave us, for this time.»
Brigitte bites her lips, but says nothing. What must be done must be done right. This is the indomitable courage of the Eolis... She gets up, takes back her coat that she had put beside her.
Just before going out, she faces the little dome which suddenly radiates a joyful iridescence of pink and orange, as if to say goodbye to her too. Yanathor gives his most wonderful smile.
They return directly into the hold, through the magic door, without going through the bedroom.
Here is Brigitte on the descent hatch, the Guardians in a circle around her.
«Wait, Yanathor.
- Yes?
- Well, it is just that... You see... I did not really know what to do... My mission? What is it all about? I would like to...
- Sweet Aurora, it is a bit early to answer that question yet, but I promise you won't be bored on your way down.» At a lower voice: «Patience. I know it is hard for you to return into this world now, but you still have things to accomplish and to master. Do not worry, you shall be guided, you shall be fine. We have been by your side for a long time and we shall stay by your side until the end. We sympathize with your heart, even though we are smiling. Dedicate yourself to the work you still have to do, and do not let regrets distract you. This is how you will take the shortest path, the one with the least suffering.» He took her hand, and that warm, friendly touch gave her courage.
«Again...
- What is it, brave Aurora?
- Yanathor, tell me... Shall I have a lover?»
Suddenly, for a second, the walls of the ship seem to shake and warp around her. Amazed by her audacity, Brigitte fears some negative reaction to this question, which now seems so incongruous to her! But Yanathor answers her with a mischievous wink.
«Do not worry about that either. We shall take care of it!»
For some instants, she contemplates the warm circle of the Guardians, their smiles so sweet, their gaze so clear.
«Goodbye.
- Goodbye.»
The hatch reopens to the darkness of Earth. It is like the floor of an elevator, sliding down a transparent shaft. But everything dissolves when her feet touch the grass crunchy with frost.
Still some instants, she contemplates the round opening of the ship above her, enjoys a little more the delicious scent which emanates from it. Then it rises at a lightning speed into the sky and disappears.
What a contrast! It is almost nightfall now, and on the meadow a blue, icy mist hovers, where the emaciated, black and sinister silhouettes of the trees in winter can be seen... An intense cold seizes her. The air smells of snow. She shivers as much with her body as with her soul. This blue regains its full power of a cold colour...
Well, this is not a good place to spend the night. Which way is the village? She climbs a little, but the slope gets steeper, crowned by a thick clump of vaguely hostile black trees. Where is there such a sloping meadow near her village? And the grass is grazed here, whereas at her starting point the dry stems reached her knees. Obviously, «they» did not left her where they took her. But where, then?
Down below, behind a curtain of trees, a warm yellow light shines. It is better to go and see toward that side, she will always be able to ask for directions, rather than wandering in the darkness in this deadly cold.
A path leads to the light, through the bunch of trees. But where are there shale walls in this brick country? She is very confused.
Voices come from the house, several windows are lit. She penetrates under an arbour which vine is completely bare at that time.
Behind a claustra, a door, under which a ray of light filters... She knocks. Footsteps answer her.
What a face Brigitte makes when she sees who comes to open it!
«Gerard!
- Brigitte! Oh, my goodness!
- Gerard! What's... What are you doing here?
- What's that? What am I doing around here? But you're the one to ask! Come in, come in, where is your backpack?
- Gerard, what are you doing here? You didn't even know I live in this region!
- Well... What am I doing here? I am welcoming you, you are coming, at last! Come in, come in. What brings you here? You look radiant! You met angels, or what?»
As she enters, the misunderstanding ends: There are Hélène, Marc and Yolande, in a large vaulted white room she knows well.
They make a joyful hubbub, the fire in the stove rumbles, a large pot of soup smells good and invites to the feast.
Brigitte, stunned, contemplates her hosts, mute, her arms dangling. She is at the Mas de Peyreblanque.
Scenario, graphics, sounds, colours, realization: Richard Trigaux.
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