..::The 'other universe' is an intelligent thinking mind, and so when it impinges on our material universe, these 'impregnations' take the form of written or audible information (words), such as described in Ubik...the term for this impinging information is 'word' or Logos!
What we have is sentient radiation, energy or electricity or plasma or ionizations.
...Tesla, in his own work with such 'Radar-like' devices found he had made contact with a 'St. Elmo's fire' ETI -- the intrusion of which (living sentient plasma) must puzzle and intrigue the Soviets.
Words, bursting through the material world, are in fact the real universe (noos) penetrating a mere holographic projection.
The criminal virus controls by occluding (putting us in a sort of half sleep) so that we do not see the living quality of the world, but see it as inert man reduced to automaton. The occlusion is self-perpetuating; it makes us unaware of it and of our keepers (and helpers too). So restoration doesn't consist of enhancing but lifting (away and off).
If there is to be immortality, there must be another kind of time : one in which past events (i.e.' the past in its entirety) can be retrieved -- i.e.., brought back.
I did experience such a time.
:immortality is possible::.
The Exegesis of Philip K Dick
PKD
* * * *
'Homer is asleep; down for the count, out for the afternoon, and maybe evening as well, although I will try to wake him for a light supper later...'
Emlyn caught up with Jethro as he was hitching up their big Clydesdale, Piper, for the wagon-ride to town.
'Yep, once he gets on that long road to the land of Morpheus he stays gone a good while.' Jethro loaded a bushel of winesap into the cart. 'For Aleister. He loves the winesap...say, Em, why don't you drive to town? You know Homer will just sleep for hours. He'll be fine now for a while. And, you need to get outa this place for a change of pace. C'mon, you know you'd like to visit with Aleister.'
Em would. 'Well...Homer seems much stronger now.' She glanced into the house. 'All seems well on the home front here, I guess. Alright! I will go! Just let me grab my bag...'
Jethro watched as Em hustled her bustle inside and back out in a flash. He knew she needed a little break.
'Stay the night if you want! We'll be fine here. Drive back in the cool of the morning, Em. Think about it.'
Em just smiled and waved farewell as she turned the cart onto the road and was off trailing clouds of glorified dust motes.
'Outa here like a scalded cat...' Jethro grinned to himself.
. . . .
Although it was beginning to cool evenings, it was still an Indian summer sort of fall during the days, Emlyn mused...
Hot out, still. But she was happy to be off on her own, just herself and old Piper, hauling apples down the hill to Crowley Place and her friend Dr. Parsons. The Piper was a good old dray; he'd come by his moniker owing to his loud 'pipes': when the Piper neighed, the very earth shook beneath.
Although a longer trek than Em recalled, (she'd eaten two apples en route already), at last she turned onto Crowley Lane which led to the old mansion.
A high whinny from the pasture announced Boreson's valkommen and Em braced herself for the Piper's answer: sure enough, the lines shook as the old Clyde bellowed out his reply, nearly knocking Em's hat off with the vibrations.
A bark from the barn and Dylan raced out, adding his clarion call to the horses' greeting.
Well, if anyone was home, they'd certainly knew she was there now, Em smiled.
As she pulled up alongside the barn, Em saw Aleister appear on the porch with cigar chomped between his teeth; he grinned with recognition. Stubbing out the smoke, he waved as he stepped down the stairs to greet Em.
'Here's a sight for sore eyes!' Aleister gave Emlyn a brotherly hug and then held her at arm's length, his gaze searching. 'You need sleep, my dear! Other than that,' he lifted his chin and took her in tip to toe, 'you look a right treat to behold! Come in, do! And you WILL stay a while! We need to catch up, my girl... Oh, and what have you here, winesaps?!' Al didn't miss a thing.
Em watered Piper and gave him oats, while Al retrieved the apple basket.
'I would love to visit a while, but can't really stay too long...,' Em began.
'Nonsense, Em!' Al wouldn't hear of it, as he held the screen door open for her. 'When is the last time you were here? I'll lay odds that you can't even recall!'
'I'd lose that bet, Aleister...' Em conceded.
'Cold tea?' He asked, eyebrows suggestive, although not quite hoydenish.
Emlyn nodded, 'Please. I'm dry as the dust out there.'
Em looked about her, noting the improvements Jack had made recently; the air of haunted house was no longer as prevalent. Indeed, the neighbors could boast if they wished...(it was, however, most unlikely.)
She almost missed the old Crowley ambiance...however...
'The place looks fine, Aleister! How have you been keeping?'
'Ah, can't complain! People keep getting sick, or injured, and so I keep getting work!' Doctors and morticians, both with a dark sense of humor, Em knew. He handed over her tea without a fight. 'Let's sit on the porch, shall we?'
They settled themselves on the wicker like bright early moss. 'So what brings you here, Em, with Jethro's coach and steed, as it were...?'
'That's why I'm here, I'm afraid, Aleister; I, as well, must pay a call to you in your professional capacity...' Em sipped her cool, sweet, lemon-laced tea. 'To give you more work!' She smiled, all too briefly. Aleister set his tea down, fearing no good news.
'It's Homer...he has been, quite ill, I fear.'
As Emlyn filled the doctor in on events of the past few weeks, Aleister's features reflected surprise, then narrowed into a firm frown.
'That old scalawag! Oh, I know Jethro must not have had an easy time with him, but...you should have let me know much sooner! Oh, I don't blame either of you. You did what all you could, I'm sure...' Al sighed. An old story.
'Well, it sounds as though you, and Marta and Tina, too, have done well enough in my stead! I'll head on up to have a look at him. Although, I probably should wait until morning...' Aleister's gaze turned inward now, pensive.
'Why don't you stay on here, Em? It's a long hot drive back now. Tomorrow would be much cooler, you could leave early then.' Al offered. 'You know your room is as you left it. This is your house as well as mine and Jack's, you know.'
Emlyn was awfully tempted; it had been a horrifically hot drive down. 'Well...' she demurred.
'--And, you don't have to cook!' Al wagged an eyebrow alarmingly her way. 'Even better, you don't have to eat my cooking either! Diana and I often have cold suppers of an evening; she has left salads here, and cold cuts; we've cheeses, nuts and fruit galore!'
'Harvest season, I love it...' Em smiled. Hm. I could get used to that: someone else's cooking... She sighed then, realizing she, in fact had: Daryl's.
-- Dam.
Still, what a welcome change from wrestling hot stew into Homer! 'Oh, alright, Aleister! Just for tonight...I think Jethro will be fine with Homer; on their own, together again...'
'Excellent! I'm feeling a bit peckish already, myself; how about you?' Al stood, holding a hand out to Em,'Let us set out a nice smorgasbord, yes, and catch up on all the news, then...'
. . . .
After unhitching Piper and turning him out into pasture with a happy Boreson, excited to have company; Em and Al watched the two horses kick up their heels and act like great huge colts awhile, then headed back to the house.
Supper calls...
Emlyn cut apple slices, and cheeses, as Aleister set out covered dishes from the icebox: ham slices, smoked salmon, gherkins and potato salad, deviled eggs and a tomato-corn-bean-and-pepper salad which Em taste-tested and found most refreshing.
'Diana's recipe...' Al grinned, as he sliced bread for sandwiches, opening the mustard jar.
'You two getting along well, then?' Emlyn nudged her old friend.
'Oh, fine, yes...indeed,' Al smiled, then looked seriously at Em. 'I hope, well, I hope that's alright with you, my dear Em...'
'Aleister! My goodness!' Emlyn paused, 'Why wouldn't it be?'
Al blushed, looking down as he slapped mustard on the bread. 'Oh, you know...how much we both admired Mrs. Stein...Alice, you see...I, I don't wish to besmirch her, ah, memory...'
Oh, my stars, thought Em. 'Aleister,' she put a hand upon Al's arm, 'I like Diana very much! I think the two of you together are one of the bright spots in recent memory. Goodness, Alice has gone away with Frank, she isn't, you know, gone...' Em waved a hand, dismissing Al's notions.
'Eh, quite...' Aleister buttered another slice, adding ham, tomato and cheese. 'There's still fresh spinach in the garden, if you like. And, there is some of Diana's homemade 'grape' chilling in the icebox!' Al brightened, glad to have received Em's 'blessing'.
At last, they decided to eat in the kitchen where they could watch the antics of the horses, and sat down at the breakfast nook together.
'Iechyd da, Aleister!'
'Slainte', Em!'
Clicking glasses, they toasted one anothers health and then got down to the business of chat and tucker.
'How is Jack, Aleister? Where is he now?' Emlyn finally broached the question uppermost on her mind, as their impromptu supper was winding down and the two friends sat cracking pecans and nibbling cheese with a glass or two of the 'grape'...
Al sighed and leaned back against the bench seat. 'Ah, that, my dear Em, is why I must stay in tonight, and so hoped you would as well...'
Al stood. 'Leave all this for now, it's cooler in the parlor, yes?' He held out his hand to Em, who, rather surprised, took it as they strode into the dark coolness of the walnut-paneled room. Ah, leave it to Jack: so firmly entrenched in the 19th century he would be dreadfully besotted with all things be-wainscoted.
'Do have a seat, Em...brandy?' Enquired the doctor as he uncorked the decanter, as of old, she thought.
'Oh, perhaps a wee dram, Aleister,' Emlyn seated herself upon the old familiar sofa before the fireplace, now dark, cold and empty of all flame, even blue. Dylan entered then, and cheered her when he curled on the floor beside her feet; to sleep and dream Anubian dreams...
Al brought her a cut glass snifter and clinked his own to hers, then took his seat in the wing chair opposite.
He took a taste of brandy. 'As to Jack...well, I hardly know what to think! He'd discovered an alternate timeline, he said -- oh, yes! One in which all the ills of our time had never occurred. Or so he thought...'
'Indeed, Aleister?' This was news to Em. 'So, is that where he has traveled, then?'
'Yes.' Al sipped. 'He returned only once, directly after finding this brave new world...and asked me if I wished to come along.' Al looked at Em. 'I did not want to leave here, Emlyn! My life is here now! I have a practice here, I have this place, I have friends here, and I have Diana...'
Emlyn's hand unconsciously went to pet Dylan, now grown into a handsome young Shepherd; and someone who remembered her. She thought then of Al's calico cat, and checked her basket on high: yes, Alice was still there as well; Em discerned orange and black and grey fluff over the basket edge upon the bookcase.
'You've a few furry friends here as well,' she added.
'Indeed,' Al stretched his legs before him, crossing his ankles and smiling down at Dylan, who stretched and rumbled in his doggish drowsings.
'But Jack,' Al continued, 'had found that all of the previous symptoms of his, ah, injury, had abated in this new timeline. He was, of course, sorry to leave everyone here, but Emlyn, you must understand how very much he wished to be his old self again!'
Em was simply staring at nothing, rather in a bit of a daze from all this news of which she had been blithely ignorant. Had Daryl known? Well, it was she who had left him, was it not?
Aleister continued, 'So, apparently he had asked Daryl as well, to come with him back into the new timeline. And so, Daryl and a lady friend of his, Athena, I believe, traveled along with Jack...'
'What?!' Em was truly shocked now. 'Daryl, and Athena, and Jack, are gone now?'
Al cleared his throat. 'Ah, well, last I'd heard, possibly. Jack had offered...' He didn't notice how distraught Em had become. 'Whether they stayed or not, I don't know.'
Emlyn stood then, and began pacing. 'Oh, I...I had no idea...' Jack -- gone. Perhaps for good. Oddly, this she could understand. But to lose Daryl as well! And Athena. Em felt betrayed somehow. However...
'Of course, if that's what they wished...'
Al refilled his glass, and Em's. He now noted her unease.
'Well, we shall see.'
Em stopped pacing. 'How's that?'
Al sighed. 'It's just this, you see:
I helped Jack create this timeline, or the coordinates, rather. I added a fail safe program to it, just in case. Should Jack find himself in any trouble, he could conceivably be able to access this and extricate himself from that reality.
'He was supposed to check in here, with me, sometime this week. He is rather late in doing so.' Al drank off his glass.
'I wanted to stay here tonight, and try to contact Jack. Make certain all is well with him there.'
'Oh, Aleister,' Em came to him, 'yes. You absolutely must! He is a week late in contacting you now?'
'Yes. I try to be patient with him, but, well...let us head down to the lab now, shall we?'
Em couldn't wait.
. . . .
As the two clattered down the steps leading to the lab in the basement, Al kept up a running explanation of the process to come, of which Emlyn could decipher little.
'Sound waves!' Aleister shook a forefinger in emphasis.
'That's the ticket, Jack found! Ah, you may have to wear these, meanwhile Em!'
Aleister lifted a set of what appeared to be padded metal earmuffs upon her head. 'Can you hear me still?'
He raised his voice.
'Only barely!'
'Good.' He handed her a pair of dark glasses. 'Put these on as well. Now, sit over there, and do not wander, please.'
Emlyn obeyed and then noticed that at the back of the basement, she perceived what appeared to be a section of wall which had been cleared away with a sort of stage-setting of a room with three walls, floor and ceiling, all black. As Al settled his own headset about his ears, he also donned dark glasses and then, nodding at Em, he began powering up some sort of generator, as Em could feel the thrum of an engine through the floor.
As the vibrations increased, Em slowly made out the beginnings of lines against the black walls and floor of the strange room...red lines of light in a sort of pattern. These coalesced into pulsing designs, rather like iron filings around a magnet.
The vibration seemed to rise rather higher, as the pattern of lines swirled to a beat unheard, unknown to humanity's paltry senses.
What appeared to be tiny streaks of lightning crackled about the uncanny room. Although the generator's hum could not be heard, Em felt it as a pressure on her brain. She held the pads closer against her ears to muffle it out.
A flash.
And a shape appeared, a dark shadow, curled up on the floor of the room.
Another flash, and then another.
Two more shapes followed the first: two tall forms, standing somewhat apart from the one on the floor.
Aleister powered down the generator. Em stood, although she dared not move; she wanted to remove the bloody glasses though, and see what, or who, had happened.
Al took his own glasses and head gear off, as the lines of light disappeared and the floor's vibrations rumbled to a stop.
He crossed to the inside of the room and bent over the dark shape on the floor. Em couldn't stand it any longer and went to see as well.
-- It was Jack.
. . . .
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