Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (31 page)

Sophia wondered as to whether now
was the right time to inquire as to why he seemed so bothered. Was
this typical Gnostic behavior? Perhaps he was uncomfortable in his
new surroundings and she could help him. She decided to ask him,
“Can I do something for you?”

His lips moved tensely. “Yes, can
you turn off this noise?”

“Certainly.” She touched a control
panel and the music went silent. His youthful appearance surprised
her. She had expected someone repulsive. His black suit was lined
with metal, full of pockets and zippers. Initially, he had appeared
sinister to her. He was of medium build and his suit outlined a
lean and muscular body. A second glance revealed a man of delicate
beauty. His long black hair was pulled back in a bun. His black
eyes conveyed strength and aggression, but at the same time she saw
a certain innocence within them. Most of all, she was surprised by
the grace of his movements beneath his rigidity.

Smoke felt dizzy. He searched for
something to focus on in order to steady himself. Although he was
an experienced pilot, nothing could have prepared him for this. The
smooth pearlescent hues surrounding him were devoid of any sharp
corners or anything distinct, so he could not rest his gaze upon
anything remotely solid.

Sophia naturally took hold of his
hand, ignored his disoriented state and led him away. This time, he
found it very difficult to hold back his resistance.

“We are on the surface sphere,
which serves as the entrance and exit for the station. I will take
you to the particle processor in the processor sphere. No doubt you
were sent here for that reason.”

Sophia assumed there was no risk in
exposing the processor. In any case, she would not reveal any
technological secrets or formulas. This way, she would gain more
time to influence him. She led him downward on connecting paths
between the spheres.

“The processor is designed to
create any object from any material, provided that we have the
particle specifications. The particle specification is the basis,
or musical score, upon which we play,” Sophia explained as they
walked through the labyrinth of Samos.

Smoke felt sick. It seemed
abominable, like the demonic workings of the demiurge that created
a corrupt, physical world.

“Anything?” Smoke marveled at how
easily she had revealed the functions of the processor without
inhibition. 'Truth was right,' he thought to himself. 'These
Pythagoreans are as pacifist and naive as newly hatched chicks. We
can gain control of the processor without any difficulty.'

“We are still in the research
stage, but we can create just about anything.”

“What is this score you speak
of?”

“The score is the notes in the
hands of the conductor, by which an orchestra creates a melody. A
diagram of the material structure we want to create serves as a
score. The processor reads the notes and creates the material
according to the design. Would you like to see?”

He stood silent. It took her a
moment to realize that he had to abstain from any act of
creation.

“I will show you,” she said
confidently, without waiting for a reply. She stopped by one of the
monitors scattered around the station. “We will create a small cube
of metal.” She pressed several buttons on the monitor and the
screen filled with small, dense symbols. After several more
keystrokes, the symbols on the screen changed.

“The spherical movement creates a
field of frequencies which specifically arranges the spaces in the
processor to create the object. Let's see if the cube is
ready.”

She took his hand in hers again and
continued walking.

Only one bridge led the way to a
massive iron door in the central orb of the station. The orb's
diameter was about sixty meters; it floated in the center of the
sphere and appeared to be a colorful, metallic liquid. Sophia and
Smoke stopped at the outer rim of the bridge.

“This is the processor,” she
pointed to the orb. “It contains millions upon millions of orbs of
all sizes, which contain more orbs down to the size of subatomic
particles. Raw matter passes between the orbs.”

He was thrilled at what he saw.
“What matter?” he gently inquired.

“Stardust. The processor breaks
down the dust to its elementary components, which are then divided
until there is empty space. According to the score, the processor
connects the molecules to compose the sub-atomic, atomic, molecular
or genetic elements, resulting in a cube.” She put her hand into a
niche in the wall next to the processor and pulled out a cube the
size of two cubic centimeters. She offered it to him but he
refused.

He wanted to look at the orb and
its metallic liquid, but Sophie led him onward and he pulled his
eyes away. She led him into the sphere's passageway.

“Sometimes, before we create
something in the processor, we envision it in the simulator.”

“The simulator?” he asked.

“I'll show you.”

Being in close proximity to Sophia
bothered him. He still held a picture of the orb in his mind's eye.
They passed through a narrow opening into an orb, the inside of
which was covered in screens of different colors.

“Welcome to the simulator. Here you
can see just about anything you can imagine. Here you can choose a
symphony with notes we possess and simulate it, or you can
improvise.”

“How do you improvise?” Smoke
remembered it was his mission to gather information, but his own
curiosity had also been piqued. She detected as much, but she
reminded herself that she had to be careful, that she mustn't stop
him or avoid his questions. 'Don't point him in the right
direction. Allow him to take the lead.'

“You can choose between a number of
possibilities, input directions, paint or draw on the screen; but
you can also let the simulator sense your thoughts, imagination or
feelings. The simulator will then translate all of that into sights
and sounds.” Sophia had to force herself to avoid all eye contact
with him, lest she be stirred by any emotion.

“The simulator knows what I'm
feeling?” His curiosity could not hide the panic he felt.

Sophia noticed how his wording had
become more personal and that he had used the word “I”. She could
now refer to him in the second person.

“In a sense, you're right. It knows
how to transform your will into a visual form, which it then
projects by holograph. If it identifies specific objects, it can
translate whatever is in your mind into something concrete.”

“How does the simulator know what
I'm thinking?”

“It tracks the electro-chemical
activity in your mind. It translates this activity through a
neurological network, including the quantum microtubules in every
neuron of your brain, and assembles everything into a holographic
vision. Would you like to try to imagine something?”

Sophia waited quietly. She hoped
the silence would induce some sort of tension and that he would
feel the need to express himself.

With restrained anger, Smoke
measured out his words. “To create, to generate, is an
abomination!” he said in disgust. His body stood tense and rigid
but his face suddenly fell.

“Why?” she asked, trying to elicit
a response from him.

It worked.

“The world was created by the aeon
Yaldabaoth, the sinful boy, who created the world in order to rebel
against his mother Ishtar. Yaldabaoth created the physical world
and was then punished with banishment to the inferior world he had
created.” Smoke slightly raised his voice in anger. “When you
suggest that I create something, you are asking me to violate the
sanctity of my faith.”

'As Enosh speculated, Smoke is now
placing me in the position of the one who demands something of
him,' she said to herself.

“I only suggested that you imagine,
thereby giving holographic form to a useful object. I never
suggested that you create. I recognize full well what it means to
create, but I would never suggest that you create.” Again there was
a pervading silence, except this time she sensed a slight danger.
Perhaps she hinted too openly about him wanting to create
something?'I won't strain him any more than is necessary,' Sophia
thought.

“It is possible to learn how to use
the simulator without connecting it to the processor. I understand
that your religion forbids creation. I would never ask you to act
against your faith. The purpose of your coming was to learn from us
and offer us the opportunity to learn from you. If your commander
objects to you learning about the simulator, we shall avoid the
subject altogether.”

He was angry because he realized
she was right, that she was one step ahead of him. He continued to
look at her face, to question her through her eyes. He was not
accustomed to the presence of a woman which provided anything other
than sexual relief.

“I will take you to the residential
sphere. There you can rest, eat and drink, as well as make contact
with Truth.”

“Smoke to Truth.”

“Truth here.”

“Status report: the entrance to the
station is via spheres of light, six in total, which surround the
five spheres of matter. From the outside inward, these spheres
consist of the surface sphere, command sphere, residential sphere,
processing sphere, and core.”

“Listening. Continue!”

“Penetration through the outer
spheres is indeed as we suspected. The pilots need to synchronize
their acceleration with that of the beams of light, to attach
themselves to the beams via electromagnetic hooks, to turn onto the
internal side of the sphere and from there to leap to the internal
sphere and so on. You have to repeat the process for each of the
six external spheres of light until you can anchor on the surface
sphere.”

“Listening. Continue!”

“The processor is a huge orb and at
its center is empty space. It is located in the processor room,
behind a huge iron door. Sometimes the door is closed. You can open
it via terminals that are found in the simulator, in the control
center, or within the processor room itself. I think that the
module can only connect to the terminal found in the processor
room.”

“Continue.”

“The processor generates objects
according to particle specifications. The particle specifications
are the basis to the external spherical movement and vibrations
which create the core matter of the processor. This is also the
reason for the music surrounding the station.”

“Go on!”

“Regarding her hospitality, it
would appear that the female Sophia does not suspect our true
intentions. She has openly revealed to me the station, the
processor and how everything works. She even invited me to create
an object with the processor.” Smoke paused. He was afraid of the
reaction he would get for Sofia’s offer to violate the Gnostic
prohibition of creation.

“Listening...” Smoke anxiously
waited for Truth's confirmation. “Go on!”

“The Simulator system allows you to
create holographic images of the object before its creation. The
simulator is the basis for the creation of any object on the
condition that it can simulate that object.” Truth did not respond.
Smoke was forced to beg the question, “Should I cooperate?”

“Of course. Cooperate as much as
you can so you may learn more about the Pythagoreans, the station,
the processor and the simulator. You are forbidden to create,” he
said flatly. “What else did you learn regarding integrating the
module with the processor?”

“I have no more information at this
time.”

“Keep it up, Smoke.”

Smoke loved Truth. He was glad to
hear his voice and was moved against his will by the momentary
weakness that had caused Truth to give him a rare compliment. Ever
since he had lost his family, Truth was the closest person he had.
The most important thing was for him to justify the faith Truth had
in him. He was fully determined not to disappoint Truth; he would
fool the female, creating a false pretense of cooperation so that
he could win her confidence, and learn to the best of his abilities
everything he could pass over to Truth. “At your command,
Commander!”

“In the name of the Master of
Light, redeem the spark of light from the impurity of the material.
Over and out!”

Smoke tried to understand what
Sophia was touching on the transparent panel, but could not. After
a few taps on the keyboard, a cobalt-blue color filled the
room.

“Welcome to the simulator. This is
a background for the beginning of a simulation. The simulator
provides a visual presentation of the object you want to
create.”

“Listen to me carefully,” he shot
her a savage look. “I am prepared to use the simulator, but don't
try to trick me into creating something.”

Overcoming the trepidation she felt
under his stare, she responded calmly, “Don't worry. As I said
before, you can use it without creating.”

“How does it work?” asked
Smoke.

Once again, Sophia tapped on the
transparent board. A thin horizontal strip of yellow-white fog
developed on the brim of a blue sky.

“What's this?” Smoke asked.

“I was going to ask you,” Sophia
smiled. “I set the control center to display simulations of
expressions in your mind. Do you recognize anything?” she casually
asked.

Smoke was shocked. He was not
prepared for a machine that could read minds, or for a woman to
read those thoughts with a machine. But the sanctity of his mission
got the better of him. Truth instructed him to make it seem as
though he was cooperating, and even though he would have been glad
to avoid the intrusions of this simulator on his mind, he braced
himself: he would obey orders.

“I suppose I was thinking of the
color of light on Earth.”

“Can you describe it to me?”