Visitation - Exodus (book 2 of 2)

"Ian . . . Ian . . . Can you hear me?”

“A gentle but demanding voice drifted lazily into my ears and sort of registered somewhere in between them; I ignored it.

“Come on Ian, you must try,” it persisted.

“I believe he can hear me,” I heard a second voice through a muffled fog.

I wanted to return to my warmth and leave this dream for another.

“Let yourself drift off, Ian, stop this imagination, let it go, back to the warmth and more sleep, come on man.”

I was hearing myself thinking out loud or something like that, I didn’t know nor care very much.

“Come on man, pack it in, and wake up later.”

“I know now that he can hear me,” the second voice spoke again. “He’s fighting himself to stay asleep, but that is only bringing him closer to us.”

“Ian . . . Ian . . . I know you can you hear me, please respond to me,” the first gentle voice was demanding of me again.

“Perhaps the sedative was not entirely the correct one,” the first voice offered. “Did we give him too much; did it perhaps combine with his changing mental state to permanently cause damage?”

“He certainly went to the edge of finality,” second voice came back, “and that might explain why we think he may have visited the ‘other place’.”

“Perhaps not completely, perhaps just being aware of and listening to the voices from that ‘other place’, as some others we know have,” first voice added.

“If it had been a complete visit there he had experienced, I'm sure that we would have lost him altogether,” from second voice.

I was hearing all this but it made no sense and I couldn't raise my sense of conscious thought above the words.

“What am I listening to?”

The words were still there echoing somewhere inside my head, “. . . finality . . . please respond . . . sedative ... damage . . . went to the edge . . .” I wanted to drift away but the sound of these words would not go away, they continued to echo in my thoughts.

Nor could I ignore what was penetrating the misty state of half reality that was about me, nor could I escape from it back to where I had been. A button had been pushed somewhere and pleasant unconsciousness would not return willingly. I was placed on a plateau well below being awake but close enough to sleep to want to jump off into the welcoming abyss.

I heard another disembodied voice somewhere.

“A lot of us heard your thoughts as you can hear me now. You can hear me, can't you?” first voice tried again.

I could reply, I guessed, but was unable or didn’t care to respond.

“Where was this voice coming from?”

“Come on Ian, get your arse in gear, get out of bed, move it, feet on the floor, NOW,” echoed through my mind at a commanding full volume.

“Who in hell was this, disturbing me so badly?”

An order had been given to me in military style and within a heartbeat I followed an ingrained protocol that did not necessitate any further thought. In an instant I had moved myself, eyes still closed, to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, feet flat as demanded, but other than this, my sense of reality was still shot through. I was somewhere between consciousness and sleep; my eyes most definitely kept firmly shut.

Whoever had fired those words into my brain and with exactly the right kind of tempered but insistent authority, knew exactly what effect they would have. I had heard them many times before during a military career and had indeed used them myself many times.

I heard the pounding of my heart; I felt it, the floor and the bed but nothing much else.

I sat there, I was sure that I was sitting on the edge of the bed, but to get my head away from the faeries and into any other sort of reality was proving to be anything but easy.

“That was unfair Caterin,” the first voice spoke again; “he is still in a state of semi-induced coma.”

“Caterin, Caterin, Ian, that name, you know it, think man, think.”

This had some sort of meaning, a sense of recognition but I was not interested; I still wanted to let my head drift again and sink into the warm bed.

I had it, I knew who she was.

I tried to speak her name but only a mumbled blur of something vaguely akin to it left my lips. And the first voice? That was the Doctor, of that I was sure, perhaps or there again maybe not.

“Open your eyes Ian, wake up, sit up, pull yourself together man,” Caterin’s demanding tones hit me once again, but now via my ears not my thoughts.

I smiled.

“He is aware,” the Doctor spoke slowly as I did indeed become aware of myself and the banging headache I was enduring.

“There, I told you Doctor. He’s more resilient than you think. The kind of habits he had picked up during his life just do not go away that easily.”

That was definitely Caterin speaking.

I was having a hard time making my eyes open and focus, but at last, through sticky eyelids I saw her feet and the start of her long slim limbs inside her, not-so-slack, slacks.

“Nice pair of pins,” I ventured mentally.

“That’s enough of that Ian,” came thundering back at me to bounce round inside my head.

I smiled inside yet again.

“Doctor,” Caterin continued verbally again, “it’s up to you now. He’s back in the land of the living, tidy him up and back to some sort of normality. And don’t mess about with niceties, push him, hard if need be. We need him up to speed as quickly as possible.”

That was certainly Caterin in her command mode. But why was I asleep, what had happened to me to cause the Doctor to refer to what I recalled him saying, a ‘semi-induced coma’. My last memory was of having a nap, after a meeting with a nice lady psychiatrist called Silena; I remembered a name and, vaguely, a face. We had been talking, after the big meeting I attended where a great announcement was watched on TV, but this was about all I could remember.

I found the will and the strength to lift my head up, although the experience was a most unpleasant, hangover type, in time to see Caterin look back at me as she left this darkened room. She didn’t smile, but nodded slightly in recognition of my effort and I felt her presence within my thoughts. I looked to the Doctor before me and then to the nurse at his side.

“What the hell have I been up to?” I asked.

“The old head's banging fit to explode. I’ve not been drinking have I?” I asked. “And what has happened to Silena?”

I felt sick inside, my head hurt and my limbs were on the point of a shivering that might rapidly develop into shaking.

“Back inside the bed Ian, now please,” the Doctor smiled as he issued his instructions. “Nurse please help him, he still needs a little more rest.”

“I will let Silena know that you mentioned her name again,” he added. “She will be interested, I’m sure.”

I had no idea what he was talking about; it seemed as though we were talking in different directions. I did not want to get back into bed. I had no intention of jumping up and running a four-minute mile, but I did not want to go back into bed. I needed to clear my head and pull myself together.

“No, no,” I protested. “Drink, I need something to drink. Is there any juice, I need some juice, please,” I pleaded.

A cool glass was held to my lips and I sipped readily. Jumping out of bed at the issue of a military style command had had its effect, but I was suffering as a result. The sips became a drink and I managed to take the glass out of the hands of the nurse and knock it all back in a continuous single draught. That felt better; the flavour and aroma caught me out but the effect it had on me physically and mentally was incredible.

“Come on Ian, push it,” came the thoughts as I offered the glass back to the nurse.

“Fill it again please,” I asked verbally.

With each passing moment my head was clearing and there was a noticeable improvement in the way I felt physically. The proffered glass was soon drained and I needed more. The nurse took the glass away from me without complaint. I got my head fully up and looked the Doctor straight in the face.

“Can we have a little more light please,” I asked attempting a little humour, “It’s bloody dark in here; has nobody paid the bill?”

The Doctor did not smile at my silly joke but started to talk to me.

“I am still very concerned for you Ian despite your ability to apparently bounce back from a condition that most would take days if not weeks to recover from.”

“What do you mean ‘condition’,” I asked, “what ‘condition’?”

“You have been unconscious for nearly two weeks, Ian,” the Doctor started, “after the incident with that somewhat joyful burst you exhibited; the one following your inclusion as a key player in Caterin’s project.”

That was a long time ago. I had only recently escaped the results of that mistake. I remembered that and the feeling of dropping into an incredibly warm and welcoming sleep. Had I just awoken from that? No, I awoke in Jamaica from that sleep. I had just awoken again following a meeting with Silena, a psychiatrist if I remembered correctly.

“That will be explained to you in due course,” the nurse spoke.

“Are you reading my thoughts?” I queried.

I could not stop myself from asking that same question again and again.

“Yes. That is why I am here in the same room as you,” she replied. “My talent is not anywhere near as advanced as your own, but I am special and I am one of a team of others similarly gifted to attend to you while you have been ‘sleeping’.”

I picked up the stressing of the word ‘sleeping’; why did she do that?

Because your sleep was deliberately induced for your protection,” she was responding to my thoughts again but replying verbally; I didn’t mind.

That’s what happened after my meeting with Silena, but I could not figure out why. The nurse either didn’t pick up on my train of thought or was not concerned to respond to it. The Doctor did not add to these words, keeping a sort of distance from this local conversation with the nurse. I realised that I was really feeling better as I drank more of the juice the nurse kept delivering to me. The remedial effect of the strange juice was amazing and I was taking full advantage of it. I hoped that I was not becoming hooked on it.

I was feeling a little hollow inside but the shivering had stopped, the ‘hangover’ was leaving me and I needed some more light in the room. The atmosphere was dismal and needed a little brightening up; I was definitely on the mend. The lighting level eased up a few notches at my thinking of it. I glanced at the nurse bringing me yet another juice and she smiled back in acknowledgement of my thoughts.

“Ian, I think you can place yourself into this easy chair now,” the Doctor finally spoke, “and there you are to stay until I consider you have recovered sufficiently so that I can tell you what happened to you. I anticipate at least another jug of chilled juice and I will arrange a bowl of chicken noodle soup.”

“Chicken noodle soup,” I echoed. “I’ve not enjoyed that type of soup for donkeys.”

While I was finding that sinking the juice was somehow most easy, chicken noodle soup would most certainly be a pleasurable change. The Doctor looked puzzled at my turn of phrase.

“It means for some considerable time,” I explained, “and it’s most unexpected to hear of the soup here in the base.”

“Chicken noodle soup is particularly good at helping the body to recover, especially the version we make here,” echoed back to me from the Doctor and without any further embellishment.

“Here you will stay, for the immediate present,” he continued, “in the care of your nurse who will ensure that you eat and drink as I’ve just told you to. Then I will return and we will speak at length.”

“OK,” I responded, “I’ll go along with that, but what about Caterin? She wants me up and about ASAP by what I picked up of her words, does she not?”

“I have been given an hour to get you back on your feet,” he replied.

“Is this your definition of ‘immediate present’?” I queried.

“Yes,” he came back at me, “and that includes your immediate recovery and the promised explanation. I receive orders from Caterin just as much as you do yourself. I am not entirely clear why it is that you are able to recover as fast as you do, but I have been told to take advantage of it. Any more arguing with Caterin and I could find myself in another position.”

  I had to accept what the Doctor was telling me.

“I will return in about thirty minutes,” he continued, “by which time you will have finished off a bowl of soup, another jug of juice and you will have showered and be dressed.”

This was military style ordering and Caterin’s presence was all over it.

As the Doctor left the room, the soup arrived. Thankfully it was none too hot and went down easily accompanied by all the juice I could drink. The speed of consumption did not make me feel at all queasy; it just satisfied emptiness all the sooner. My head and faculties were returning to normal at amazing speed after a week or two out-of-it, if I believed what I was being told.

But my time in Jamaica, the escape and the briefing I attended, the New World Order; where did all that fit in? If I had been out-of-it for two weeks then this must follow the meeting with Silena when I slipped into a welcoming rest; not drugged again, surely not.

This was still not making sense but I was awake and functioning; explanations could come later. Considering the battering I felt my head had received, it was remarkable that I was thinking as clear as I was. I had never recovered this quickly from a hangover after a hard night drinking, although my boozing sessions were some many years ago when my body could then take it. I now felt that I had more than a little way to go to reach the sensation of a full normality. The orders had been given, however, and I must try hard to push myself. I needed a shower.

Then it hit me.

“Thirty minutes. Bloody hell, what was the Doctor trying to do with me.”

“Oh come on Ian, push yourself, go for it, try a little harder,” I was mentally talking to myself.

Off came the hospital gown and I stood there calmly at ease.

The nurse, who had not left with the Doctor, stayed in attendance as I walked naked into the shower room and was still there, her eyes not leaving me, as the warm water cascading over my revitalised form worked its magic as much as the juice. She showed no sign of embarrassment, curiosity or anything remotely sexual.

“Ye gods, come on Ian, where is your mind going, get a grip.”

I turned my gaze to the nurse and the slight raising of the corner of her lips told me she definitely could read my thoughts especially when I let them stray. Sorry wasn’t really needed; she had surely seen all this sort of thing before. Hell she was a nurse wasn't she. Now she did smile, and not a little.

I had just stepped out of the shower and was towelling down as I saw, through the open door, the Doctor and Caterin walking into the bedroom.

“You said an hour, which hasn’t passed, and I haven’t even dressed yet,” I exclaimed standing naked in front of them.

“Thirty minutes is what I said Ian,” the Doctor pointed out.

I wasn’t about to argue; he was here with Caterin and she was not about to leave.

Caterin was not in the slightest perturbed by my exposed situation nor was the Doctor, who must have viewed many naked bodies. But the lack of any show of surprise or admonishment from Caterin surprised me; she was more the military type than I had thought previously.

“I won’t apologise Ian,” Caterin started, “but I need you ready to move and be briefed of events sooner than I had anticipated. Get dressed while I talk, hurry up.”

“Fair enough,” I managed without smiling too broadly and sought my clothes in the hidden wardrobe. The lighting came up to full brightness, which was useful, as I sorted out new underwear, socks and a pair of slacks among a collection of clothes that someone or other had carefully assembled.

Caterin turned her head to one side as though listening to something I couldn’t or shouldn’t pick up on. She turned back to face me directly with a look of surprise, something I had not seen before.

I received the message, “I hope you are not listening in to my conversation Ian.”

I wasn’t but my realisation that she was conversing with someone else must have been detected by her as my attempt at intruding, though it was not. Indeed it was something that I had no idea how to undertake.

“I will forgive you this time,” Caterin came at me rather loudly. “It seems that your talent is developing beyond anything to be expected. I did sense that you were trying to break in to my conversation, but mistakenly. You appear as though you may be developing to that level of ability but, for the present, you are only announcing your presence.”

“Be careful with your degree of control, Ian,” she warned. “You may find yourself announcing your presence when it would be unwise, or impolite, to do so; do you understand?”

I did and mentally nodded my confirmation. This mental stuff was becoming complicated and a little confusing. I would have to be careful, perhaps practice at it some more.

“Correct,” she promptly came back at me with one of her rare smiles.

“Right,” she continued verbally for the benefit of the Doctor, I guessed. “We need to get you up to speed and out of this sick room; follow.”

That last word was not a request but a firmly given instruction.

Still pulling a tee shirt over my head and re-straightening my hair with my fingers, I hurried after her albeit with a wobble as my legs were still not fully up to her speed. An hour ago or so I was waking up with the mother of all hangovers, told it had been an induced coma for a couple of weeks, forced to recover, which I had seemed capable of, and was now chasing after Caterin with a fairly clear head.

My hair was still all over the place and that seemed to concern me more than immediate events. I pulled at it again quickly into a rough sort of order with my fingers although likely with little improvement required. My fingers going to my head, I realised that I was not wearing my glasses and must have left them behind. A hand came at me from the following nurse who was holding my glasses carefully. She smiled at me as I took them and placed them in position on my nose and ears. It helped with my walking to an extent but I was still not too steady on my feet.

The Doctor noticed my inability and offered a much-needed helping hand. Thankfully, not too far along the corridor, Caterin disappeared into a side room.

A moment or two later, catching up with her I entered the room to a, “Sit over there,” instruction. She gestured to one of a set of chairs on the far side of a large oval table.

I recognised where I was. This was the room where I had watched the great announcement by the US President in the presence of some very Senior people. There was the screen as I remembered it, on the wall at the far end of the table. Caterin remained standing as did the Doctor and his accompanying nurse.

“A few moments Ian and we will be joined by a few more people who wish to meet with you,” Caterin’s calm tone announced.

I sat and they stood for no more than five minutes, but this was in complete silence, unusually. The door finally opened and in walked another half dozen or so people led by a very serious, important looking type.

“Stay seated please,” the important looking one said looking directly at me.

I was happy to oblige.

Bringing up the rear was a face I recognised immediately; it was Silena. I tried to catch her attention but while she looked at me, there was not the slightest flicker of recognition that she knew me at all; strange I thought. In fact it was rather odd that each of this group looked at me in turn as they entered and took a seat round the table.

A slight wave of the hand by one of the recent faces towards Caterin and she, the Doctor and the nurse took their seats on my side of the table. Another gesture directed at Caterin I took as a sign that she was to lead off whatever was about to take place.

“I am least pleased Ian, you must know that already,” she opened. “But at the same time you have provided us with some surprising and very useful information during the weeks you were placed into your comatose state.”

What was she talking about?

“Does he know anything at all Caterin?” a Senior voice asked.

“He has a memory of sorts but not of reality,” she replied.

“That will be useful,” Senior voice continued, “everyone present can assist where needed and also make note of Ian’s responses.”

I had no idea where this was going or what it was about. I was genuinely confused and was not too sure that this was not some dreadful and realistic dream.

“This is no dream,” Senior voice added.

Clearly he also had the ability to read thoughts; I had to be careful and take note of Caterin’s remarks about being polite.

“Doctor Kevan, will you be so kind as to start the explanations,” Caterin spoke towards one of the figures opposite.

One of the figures on the far side of the table, I guessed to be probably older than myself but still with a boyish appearance that was enhanced by a mop of unkempt wavy hair draping over his ears, looked up. His bluish eyes stared first at those present round the table, and then back to a small folder he had placed on the table. He carefully opened the cover with an unnecessary precision, scanned over a page and then started to speak with a very gentle, soft voice that initially seemed to match his appearance; it then took on the tone of seniority in its careful and precise pronunciation.

“Just over two weeks ago Caterin briefed Ian on his possible key role in the great project, this following his recovery period under my colleague,” while gesturing towards another doctor sat opposite me, without pause or taking a breath, “who undertook a phase two recovery, albeit a simple procedure in physical terms, but complicated, and necessarily so, by the remedial genetic upgrading or modification, depending on your specific view, considered appropriate upon his arrival and thorough examination upon admission.”

I had some idea what he was talking about but his presentation style I found somewhat confusing and elaborate. I had encountered this kind of self-aggrandisement approach to presentations, in my not too distant past. This was on the occasion of being sat at construction or design team meetings where a pompous type of architect might be present and who thought more of himself than the job at hand. This type would speak in much the same convoluted manner in the belief, I guessed, to stress his importance.

I resisted a smile and even held back a possible sigh, remembering to be respectful, or was it to be polite, as Caterin had made the point of telling me how to conduct myself. My head was still none too clear on the current situation, in which I had now been placed, and I tried again to concentrate rather than let my mind wander off. I raised my eyes from their inspecting view of the nicely polished grain of the table and the enticing smell of the polish to see Senior voice looking in my direction; I got the message - 'pay attention.'

“My learned colleague had also undertaken to provide a full explanation of Ian’s presence here, inclusive of the significance of the book he had previously authored and the co-related events, it being my professional opinion to consider them holistically and as such because of their interrelated positioning in this case, their influences unfolding subsequently and as a consequence of events.”

“Ian also accepted with some relish the role offered him in the project. His sense of well being, following the extensive gene therapy undertaken as an involuntary, non-accepting yet essential process, along with the associated work to his physical frame, became rated by his sub-conscious as a significant maximum.”

“As the implications of this and the role in which he was unwillingly embodied, became firmly seated within his conscious mind, with the resulting consequence that his sense of elation had increased, almost along an exponential course, neuron activity increased in a similar manner. He exceeded our anticipations, justifying entirely the selection we made for the role he is to play.”

Doctor Kevan paused for a moment and I received the impression that a few others sat round the table were glad of it, but he continued.

“This unbridled sense of joy being experienced by Ian, however, and because of the untrained and unpractised mental abilities he suddenly found himself embodied with and capable of, while not having the experience of a natural development through childhood and training into adulthood, as many of those indigenous to this place and of the enhanced genetic development, led to an outburst of, what may best described as, a revelatory moment of ecstasy. In simple terms he started shouting out loud in his moment of great joy.”

His last words would have sufficed for most of us, but he went on again.

“Unfortunately, with his mental ability now increasing at an alarming rate, possibly as I have just stated exponentially, while yet leading to what can only best be described and certainly as my well experienced and professional opinion would confer, that of the order of some invariable type of untrammelled feed-back loop construct configuration while absent of a modulating and variable input connection and also in the absence of any feed-back limiting control, it expanded to something of a maximum potential, amplifying greatly his singular outburst into a multi-variance mass generated holistic experience.”

“What?”

Doctor Kevan paused again glancing at the faces round the table for some sort of acceptance of the explanation he had just provided. Not a single eyebrow was raised nor a word uttered; his convoluted presentation style itself resisted any possibility of a considered response.

The Senior figure looked at me without a hint of a change of an expression, turned back towards Doctor Kevan and nodded; notes were consulted carefully again. He continued his presentation in the same laborious manner.

“We have not experienced, here at the base or indeed before this incidence and up to this very moment, a mental ability with this sort of inherent amplification or, for the present, an unstable volumetric governing elemental module. It is possible, quite probable and I have concluded to ascertain with a degree of certainty, as I have noted from my deep investigatory research into the available archive material, that such an ability was known of in at least one of the many periods of our ancient history, possibly with a select few of the indigenous inhabitants of this planet that had been subject to various genetic alterations or improvements, and indeed perhaps back on our ancestral home planet.”

“There is no definitive record of any of this and I present this view on my considered opinion and interpolation of the available notes of that historical data which remains extent on the subject. It is also quite possible that such was once the norm and that over the many thousands of years of our presence here on this planet Earth, especially considering the genetic mixing of our two races, that such ability has through the successive generations become diluted. Ian may be the natural form, restored albeit, rather than the exception.”

“That’s all very nice Doctor,” the Senior voice interjected, “but could you not go into too much technical detail; try paraphrasing, it would make your long technical diatribe a little more understandable for me, if not for many other non-medical people here.”

He glanced round the table seeking approval of his words, although none were needed.

“I think that is as far as I need to go make a viable, appraised input to this meeting,” Doctor Kevan responded. “It is probably time for the psychological team to take over.”

I was sure that I heard a few sighs of relief.

“I would make one further statement of note, however,” he decided to continue hurriedly, “which is of significance to my contribution. It was myself that raced to administer the sedative that kept Ian’s mental and pathological stasis, which I considered rapidly to have suffered an uncontrolled relapse of negative component interjection, transferred to one of physical suppression while subsequent events unfolded.”

“Thank you Doctor,” Senior voice added without any hint of frustration, at the length of this discourse, which I felt certain he must have experienced.

I guessed that what had been said was as I started screaming and shouting aloud, mentally and in a state of some excitement, I had been administered a sedative to knock me out. Why didn’t he just say that?

I had this ‘intuitive’ guess confirmed as I immediately felt the Senior’s unspoken presence within my thoughts, accompanied by a firm reminder to gain some control yet with an overriding sensation of ‘I understand’. To those present with the same gift it must have been as if I had been blurting out some sort of comment most inappropriately while others remained silent.

Senior voice physically looked in my direction again and nodded slightly. I tried to apologise but was swamped by Caterin’s admonishment. Despite my uncertain condition, I realised that this was no excuse and that I still had a continuous need for much more self-education and I had to teach myself quickly.

“Silena, if you will please,” Senior voice spoke gain verbally. This was an example of politeness for those of the meeting that were not gifted; I took this on board.

“If I could interject for a moment please,” Caterin interrupted.

Senior voice nodded his approval.

“Ian is my subject and I am responsible for what occurred here. I believe it would be of significance to Ian and also maintain a correct time-line, if I picked up the story from this point.” Caterin was seeking approval.

“Thank you Caterin,” Senior voice responded in the affirmative, “please do. Silena, please be patient for a little while longer, your turn will surely come very shortly.”

“As I understand the immediate events,” Caterin started, “after I left Ian to his considerations, his outburst of mental energy was sufficiently great to cause several of our people here in the base to collapse at the intensity of it. One person was placed in a critical, life threatening condition and he will take some considerable time to recover but I am assured that he will survive with limited damage.”

I felt the intensity of Caterin’s words deep within my thought; she was simultaneously admonishing me in a most severe way.

“Doctor Kevan risked serious injury himself,” she continued, “by rushing to Ian without thought of his own safety, to administer the sedative that kept Ian in his suppressed state for the following two weeks until a very short time ago.”

“Until a very short time ago. I’m confused. Have I slipped into some sort of time warp? I’m in another sort of time warp? Good grief son, get a grip.”

Caterin told me with a simple and stern mental message to shut up; I did.

“I offer my apologies to the meeting as the person responsible for Ian’s transgression that lead not only to the injuries sustained but to the near breach of security which we experienced as a result.”

This caught me out; Caterin was apologising.

What had happened, what about Jamaica and this reference to two weeks sedation? The confusion was terrible but I was having to learn to control myself in the hope that some sort of explanation would come shortly, from someone, somehow. I desperately needed to touch reality in a way that I could clear away my dream like confusion. I was managing to keep my thoughts low level and to myself. I realised that I did have such a control and must exercise it at all times, especially now. I stared again at the beautiful polished grain of the table to give me something stable to focus on.

“This outburst of mental energy was also picked up externally by those nefarious others who inhabit this world but until now we were uncertain could detect such; one of the alien groupings,” Caterin expounded.

“By misfortune, one of their craft was in the vicinity of the base and we can only assume from their actions that they detected Ian’s outburst. The base had to be put into a silent lock down for several days while many of their craft combed the area hoping to detect what they had never been able to before; us.”

“Thank you Caterin, it is unnecessary for you to apologise, but it is noted; I thank you,” Senior voice spoke again.

“I believe Ian has got the message even if he is still unable to put events into context just yet.”

“Silena, if you will now continue with your submission please.”

“Thank you,” Silena politely responded.

“Doctor Kevan’s brave actions in sedating Ian were only partly necessary, it was found, because it appeared that his high energy outburst depleted his physical and mental resources significantly such that he fell into a state of a natural deep sleep.”

“The sedation was appropriate because it was clear from any person who may have been close by, that while he was in a state of sleep or sedation, he was still communicating his thoughts, and might come back to full consciousness at any time with the same disastrous results.”

“What was also most apparent was that his mental ramblings in his sleep state were not that random. He seemed to be communicating somehow with persons unknown and the sedation did nothing to suppress that. We took a guess that he may be in some sort of trance state and called a team in quickly that could monitor and record what was going on in his deep thoughts.”

“In fact what this team succeeded in doing was unexpected and most fortuitous. They found that with little effort they were able to connect into Ian’s thought patterns directly and experience first hand everything that he was experiencing, as though they were actually present with him.”

“This has not been achieved but on a single occasion many years ago, in fact some generations past if my memory of the historical notes serves me correct, with the first and the last person found to be so gifted,” Senior voice interjected.

“That is very correct Sir,” Silena responded.

“This was before my time well into the past. Do you wish me to recover the filed case notes at this moment in the meeting?”

“No thank you Silena; please continue with your report,” Senior voice came back.

Silena consulted her notes briefly and continued where she had left off.

“The team we quickly formed were taken from those nursing staff who are normally employed with gifted people as they can monitor and respond to their welfare needs in a manner that standard nursing staff cannot. This is particularly effective for the gifted patient and we have found it effective in hastening their recovery.”

“The team of talented nine nurses, our full compliment, were paged and in place within a few minutes and they simply had to enter the room that Ian was in to find themselves in, as it were, a partnership of experience.”

“We removed six of them to rest outside, leaving the other three with Ian so that we had several teams that we could swap about according to the stress that may be experienced by those ‘connected’ to Ian. I employ the word ‘connect’ because that is probably the best word to describe what took place.”

“Our nursing monitors simply had to close their eyes to find that they were viewing what was taking place in Ian’s mind as though they were Ian.”

“We did not notice any change in Ian’s vital signs during this period so we took the view that he was unaware that, as it were, he was carrying passengers to his perceived actions, or perhaps more precisely and as we saw them, his imagined actions.”

“The monitoring team on duty were kept in Ian’s presence for no more than ninety minutes before the standby team simply walked into the room to sit by him and be instant parties to the imagined actions Ian was experiencing. The team removed from the room were instantly disconnected from Ian’s thoughts and spent their ‘rest period’ compiling as many notes as they could of what they had witnessed. This constant swapping between teams and their note writing seemed not to be noticed at all by Ian according to the lack of any change in his physical vital signs.”

“This went on for several days and we had to search for quite a few others who could assist for what turned out to be more than a full week of stressful work just to provide some rest for the nurses. We had to make use of stimulants however to keep the participants going, despite the couple of hours or so of power sleeps that they were able to make use of. At the end of the long week, we had twelve very tired and in some cases severely exhausted individuals who needed medical treatment themselves to recover from their ordeals. We were thankful that Ian’s experience was running at a speed greater than normal otherwise we would not have had a team survive the rigour under which they were stressed.”

“In conclusion,” at this point with Silena taking in a long breath, Senior voice nodded sufficiently in her direction as though to say, “thanks but let’s finish quickly.”

Her report while informative was no doubt full of detail and probably of more use at a technical meeting. I think the Senior voice had heard enough detail only a short while ago and wanted to move on to easier rhetoric. Silena could not help but notice, nodded slightly in confirmation of the hint she had just received and continued.

“In conclusion,” she repeated, “the notes from all the participants were fed through an optical word and sentence recognition software algorithm we developed some years ago and this produced a single composite detailed record of everything noted by the team. There were no gaps in the final version of the report. I will not read out any of the full report as we have all read it before this meeting today. For your benefit Ian, our records start with your experience of the holiday resort in Jamaica and finish with our meeting in a room not far from here.”

“Once again, thank you Silena, most comprehensive and I am sure very informative for those of us not familiar with your work, especially the recovering subject of all of this attention, Ian.” Senior voice looked in my direction with a well-intentioned warm smile and a matching gentle presence in my mind.

“What do you have to say Ian,” he asked gently and most genuinely.

I sat dumbfounded.

“Are you telling me that my escape from Jamaica with John and Ivan was only a dream?” I asked with some querulous astonishment. “And all that followed until today?”

Silena didn’t flinch and responded with a simple confirmatory, though slightly curt, “No.”

“And my ‘experience’ as you call it was completed in about a single week?” I queried.

“My memory of events, or should I say my understanding of what I was experiencing took place, again in my understanding, over a time period of about a single week or so but didn’t you say I have been incapacitated for nearly two weeks. Can you explain this for me please?”

My confusion was now getting the better of me and even I realised that this was making me sound unpleasant and impolite.

“Silena,” Senior voice addressed her in a questioning tone. “Can you explain that for my benefit also?”

“Yes, that’s not a problem,” she replied.

“Ian sort of came to a full stop in his experiences and just lay quietly in what could be described as an exhausted comatose state. His needs then became physical while we nursed him conventionally through a slightly difficult consecutive period where his vital signs dipped somewhat significantly.”

“He was basically in a coma that we had some difficulty managing, that is until a short time ago.”

“If I may add just a little more,” Silena requested, to which she received another Senior nod of the head.

“Whatever or whomever you were in communication with Ian, you and ourselves, a full team of talented people, our colleagues sat round this table,” she gestured to all those sat with her on the far side of the table, “were being provided with a story line that was running with some consistency. We did not wait to process all the notes until the end of your experience, but undertook this on a running basis.”

“What is more, we had to take the information and descriptions very quickly as visions or a premonition perhaps, whatever you might wish to call them. You were being taken or perhaps guided through, a series of experiences that suddenly became reality and subsequently our reality. Let me show you.”

“Can we have the playback please,” she asked of someone not amongst the gathering. The screen at the end of the room came into life as the lighting dimmed.

I watched with incredulity as first the President of the USA made his great announcement, exactly as I had seen it previously, to be then followed by film of the results of the devastation inflicted upon the Jamaican holiday resort, allegedly by international terrorists.

“Your description of these events, almost a week before they occurred was most accurate. You were not there Ian, you did not see this presentation until today, but you experienced it, mentally as a vision or some sorts, as it was being provided to you by a source unknown. We believe this source is something that can only be described, indeed has only ever been described by ourselves, as the Universal Consciousness. This is a term we have occasionally used to describe, what is also commonly described or referred to as, ‘Another Place’ or ‘The Other Place’ or even, ‘Another Existence’ to which some individuals claim a talent of connection.”

“You may have some other words for this place or perhaps employ those that I have just employed. Ian, do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes,” I simply replied, “I do,” and indeed I did.

“This video, the one we have just watched,” I ventured. “Is this real?”

“I know this is a stupid question and I apologise if this is so, but I really have seen this before.”

“You have just told me that I have not been to Jamaica so how could the destruction I have just witnessed be real? This is surely just another part of my 'visions'? One, perhaps I am experiencing right now.”

“That's a very good proposition Ian,” a different Senior voice spoke up with a hint of something or other in his voice. “Tell me, do you know of a method to record the mental images of another person experiencing visions, or similar, because we do not.”

The voice was not being flippant but I quickly realised that he was slightly annoyed.

“Thank you John,” Senior voice spoke again in a quiet commanding tone, stopping this discourse in its tracks. “I don't believe Ian is fully recovered from his experiences yet. He has only been awake a short time, because of our need to move quickly, and it is only because of his extraordinary constitution, a result in part because of our recent work on him, and generations of human development, that he is able to be present at all.”

“Ian,” Senior voice addressed me. “This is a real recording of a transmission from America, I guess entirely in accordance with your visionary experience, and one we had come to anticipate. This is, no doubt, the first time you have seen the real thing. Why this place was destroyed or who they were really after, can only be conjecture.”

“Because of what happened there, your rapid recovery and other events, the project programme is being brought forward rather rapidly. Do your best with events as they unfold here in the safety of the base. You will very shortly have to accommodate other events as they unfold outside of this base and I must trust that you will be able to be, shall I say, up to it.”

His words were accompanied by gentle mental calming warmth and I was pleased to be in the presence of someone in great authority while yet maintaining the human touch, or perhaps that was the wrong word to use. His smile in my direction told me that he had heard my thought and was not at all displeased with the slight hint of humour.

“Silena,” Senior voice addressed her now. “I must apologise for this interruption in your most detailed dissertation but I am sure you, of all people, realise the importance of bringing Ian into a full sense of reality with a full recovery to normality as soon as possible.”

She smiled that pleasant smile I believe I remembered having seen before although apparently not.

“Your mental abilities are beyond our expectations and your premonition actually saved the lives of some of our people from the attack on the resort. It’s possible that the attack may have been intended to kill them, but we simply do not know for sure,” Silena concluded.

Events were dropping into place but the memories, of what I had been told were now to be no more than visions or premonitions experienced while sedated; the confusion however persisted. Were these some sort of false memories or perhaps real memories of real visions? This situation I was now in seated here was a reality I was sure and I had no reason to believe that I was in the grip of a further dose of another sedative.

Compartmentalising reality from dream, or vision, within my mind seemed to help significantly and I now had to concentrate on what was before me, and move on. I didn’t know where I was gathering the strength from for this entire scenario but, to my surprise, I certainly was.

“Caterin,” Senior voice spoke. “We have little time to prepare, an Ark is on its way and it is essential that Ian is ready to play his full part. You have matters to attend to right now, please leave and see to them.”

“Silena, when we adjourn please take Ian to the old transit lounge, provide him with more food and drink, as he may need,” Senior voice continued.

“Ian, whether you have recovered fully or not, you are in the team. You are not quite indispensable, but we do need you as the significant option to execute the project correctly as now planned. There are alternatives that have been quickly sketched out if you are unable to perform as required; I hope that they will not be needed.”

“As a representative of the people gathered here within this base it is my duty to tell you that our plan to evacuate this place permanently and attempt a rescue of our ancestral survivors on Mars is to proceed with all haste. Your part in this project is fundamental although, of course, you are not, and as I have just intimated, indispensable. I do expect you, however, to play the full part planned for you and to give to it the effort that will be needed.”

“Not much pressure then,” he added flippantly with another warm smile in my direction.

“Thank you team,” he concluded formally, standing as he spoke, “and thank you Doctor for getting Ian on to his feet so rapidly. You all have your tasks to attend to. This meeting is now adjourned.”

We all stood, including myself, as everyone filed out leaving Silena and myself together.

She escorted me out of the office and along the corridor for some ten minutes or so. Opening a door she took me into another side room with lots more of these easy chairs and a coffee table laid with trays of food. This seemed familiar but I decided, as advised, to stick to the reality before me and not concentrate on what I believed I had experienced.

“Build up your strength, Ian, tuck in to the food and have plenty of the juice that seems to work so well with you. Someone else will come to collect you very shortly. I will say my goodbye here and hope to see you later in the project.”

“You have said that to me once before; on the occasion of our last meeting,” I ventured.

She offered a broad grin now and replied, “I know, but that was not real whereas this, here and now is, very much so, I promise you.”

“Cheerio,” was accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes and a gentle handshake before she turned on her heels and disappeared out of the door.

I eyed up the food and drink and took a seat.

This was also very real and I hoped it would remain so. Picking up a chicken leg and biting into it to find the correct taste level of a curried coating was indeed real. Whoever prepared this food knew exactly what they were doing.

The spice in the curry coating was balanced beautifully with its flavour and biting into the chicken was a distinct pleasure. Had I been absent so long from the reality of satiating my hunger that my senses were easily assailed by such a delightful chicken leg?

I intended to tuck in to as much as I could to satisfy the empty hollow feeling that was rapidly developing despite the earlier noodle soup. I was definitely on the mend but knew I had to get a move on; left hand for another chicken leg, right hand to pour out some fruit juice; cram it in as fast as possible.

The quality was good but volume was calling, I was hungry.

“No pressure then.”