SAGA OF DARKNESS VISION OF LIGHT
Chapter Fifteen - Subtle Deceptions
by Dennis R. Cook
It seemed Steven, Prometheus, and I were without
option. Didn't figure there would be anyone on the
other
side of the vortex waiting with a basket with
which
to lower us to safety. There would be no
appeal
to Caesar, either. I would have liked to have
heard
Ketchum's analysis, but there wasn't time. I
didn't
know if he would accompany us into the vortex
or
not, but it was time...
If we had been dealing with criminal types that
took
hostages in bank lobbies, and demanded
helicopters as escape vehicles, Ketchum could have
called
in a swat team, but such training and
methodology would have been useless here. I
suppose
it
wasn't the time to find humor in our dilemma, but
I
couldn't keep my imagination from displaying the
sight
of fifteen heavily armed, body-armor-clad
agents
rolling around in the vortex as I had done.
However, the sad truth of the matter was this,
the
flesh and it's weapons would have no power over the
spiritual forces we were about to face, and that fact
wasn't
funny.
I pondered the legal ramifications of our
precedent setting event, wondering if Ketchum had
any
jurisdiction at all beyond the gate opened before us.
I wondered if his highly trained mind could
comprehend, or even imagine a solution which would
satisfy the demands of justice.
Because mine had been the privilege to taste a
finite
portion of the characteristics which revealed
themselves to me inside the vortex, I did all I could
to
prepare Steven and Prometheus for our journey down
the
passageway of the serpent to the "quote," Adamic
plain,
or whatever. Ketchum listened in.
I briefed them with few words, but hit hard on one
point. No matter what Dr. Sheolman surprised us
with
in the
void, maintaining a functioning will, was our
only
hope of survival. "We must not, at all cost," I
advised, "focus our eyes on the vortex prior to
entering," and, I continued, "once inside, we must
demand
the void to yield to our authority."
Last of all, I pointed out that we had perhaps one
advantage. Dr. Sheolman had no prior knowledge of
what
might be the deciding factor in whether or not
we
returned alive, and that was, as I had been
instructing, our wills. We, not Dr. Sheolman, not
Satan,
not Hell, and not Death, or Astarte, had
authority on planet Earth. As long As Dr. Sheolman
was
convinced we were totally powerless inside the
vortex, he might be inclined to become careless and
afford
us just the time needed to make our escape
with
Old Blackgoat.
"You don't sound to me like you believe Sheolman
is
gonna let you all go after you deliver Prometheus
and
that stuff to him," Ketchum said after
listening to my briefing.
"No," I replied curtly, "should I?"
"Well, realistically no," Ketchum replied in
a
sardonic tone, implying he felt we were foolish to
risk
our lives for Old Blackgoat.
"One thing you do have goin' for ya', though,"
Ketchum continued, softening somewhat toward us,
"just
maintain the attitude you've demonstrated, that
there's no way in hell Dr. Sheolman's gonna let you
all
go, and you might just find a way of escape."
I entered the vortex first, taking care to
discern, if I could, what my own spiritual response
was
going to be to the new environment. I
particularly wanted to discover, if possible, whether
or not
the passageway afforded me the same
reality as the one I had encountered at hell central.
As soon as I could make out Steven and Prometheus
floating along behind me, I righted myself and
imagined a concrete pathway of short duration beneath
my
feet with which to walk on. That worked out fine.
I
motioned to Steven and Prometheus that everything
was as
it had been at hell central by pressing my
thumb
to my middle finger. That was our prearranged
signal. I then imagined the sidewalk disappearing,
and
released my will to the natural flow of the
vortex, which, at hell central, had whisked me along
for
some distance. I was not disappointed.
Steven, Prometheus, and I floated along peacefully
for
some time without incident. I only hoped
both
my companions were tapping in, as it were, by
inward
man, as I had at hell central. Soon they
would
be as proficient or schooled as I in the finer
art of
navigating the realm of the vortex. Such
expertise, I hoped, might come in handy by the time
we
arrived at the Adamic plain, whatever it was.
I could see that up ahead the vortex veered
sharply to the left. Disdaining hesitation, I
probed
my
inward self in search of the still small voice of my
spirit. I knew it would comfort me as I awaited
what was
to
confront us around the bend. A picture of the two
green
scaled specters, the same two who had delivered
Dr.
Sheolman's ultimatum, flashed across my eyes.
They
were standing watch, or so it seemed, waiting
for
our arrival at the gate, of what, I couldn't
quite
make out at first, but then it became clear.
I could see that the vortex ended where the two
spiritual hooligans stood guard. Beyond them an
expanse of flat, sandy desert stretched as far as my
mind's
eye could see.
Steven, Prometheus, and I allowed ourselves to
float
harmlessly into the awaiting clutches of the
two
gargoylean guards. One grabbed both Steven and me
by the
scruffs of our necks. The other grabbed
Prometheus. As planned, we acted as though we were
totally out of control. I gasped for air perhaps
to
apprise the evil pair of my frustration. Steven
flailed
around
as though he couldn't gain control of his
limbs.
Prometheus stared into space as though
catatonic. I hoped we hadn't overdone our little
ruse.
It didn't matter I soon discovered, at least to
some
degree. The Adamic plain, though parallel to the
vortex
passageway, I sensed, did not allow me to connect with my inward self in the same way. The
place
was so rife with sordid perverseness I balked
at the thought of any continuance of control
and
closed my eyes in revolt.
Soon I found myself along with Steven and
Prometheus floating high above the wretched expanse
of
desert below in the grasp of two devils. It was
as
though we were not any different to the specters
than
the sheep Steven had observed them carting off from
Old
Blackgoat's flock to Dr. Sheolman's underground
altar.
As I turned my attention to scanning the
desert's horizon for signs that might indicate an
upcoming encounter with Dr. Sheolman, I noticed what
appeared to be an oasis of some sort not far off.
It
startled me that the immenseness of the thing hadn't
caught
my attention before.
One magnificent tree which appeared to spread
its
branches to the horizon in every direction and
towered to the very edge of heaven above, seemed to
gather
it's source of life from a crystal clear lake
surrounding it's trunk. Our predicament was
reflected in the lake's shimmering appeal.
With quietude, as had been the demeanor of the
serpentine figures that bore us above the sandy
expanse, the creatures settled us upon the shoreline
of the Adamician oasis and floated, with quietude,
away.
Though we all were awed by the spectacular
scene
before us, we dared not speak, or move,
maintaining what we hoped was still a convincing
illusion, that we were quite helpless.
I still maintained the sense that the Adamic
plain
was full of abject perversity. I hoped my
sense
of the macabre was not so intense as to be
detected by Dr. Sheolman. In fact, I counted on
it,
trusting that his intuition was no more keen
concerning good than mine was concerning evil.
Welling up within me was an explanation for what
was
before us, but I couldn't quite get the gist of
it, as
pangs of primordial hunger began to gnaw away
at my
gut, drowning out what remained of my intuitive
powers.
A fierce driving urge enveloped me as puberty to
a
young man. I so wanted to wade into the cool water
in
search of a tree limb bowed low from the weight of
the
fruit of that magnificent tree that I soon lost
touch
with the foreboding sensory variance stirring
within
my intuition.
I spied a fruit laden limb. Oh how I hungered
for
that fruit. I stood and hovered by the water's
edge,
and was on the verge of diving in to fetch my
prize
when one word literally exploded inside my
brain.
ADAM!
As though scales had dropped from my eyes, a
bolt
of revelation riveted my body to the sand,
horrifying me at the thought of what I had almost
done.
Before me stood the Tree of Knowledge of Good
and
Evil in all its glory, the ultimate deception;
snaking its poisonous roots to humanity below, ever
vital,
penetrating to the very core of humankind with
perversity, blinding each person to the right and
true
nature of Father, forever sealing the fate of
those
preferring darkness to light, lies instead of
truth.
I could see from the eyes of Steven and Prometheus
that
they, too, had recognized the terrible
significance of the primordial tree and had also been
preserved from its consequences. Had we yielded to
its
appeal, we would have belonged to Death forever,
and
our resting place would not have been this
shimmering lake but the lake of fire. God had
enabled us to overcome through the life of His Son in
our
spirit's, but I wasn't so sure how the rest of
humanity was about to fare gazing on the countenance
of the
son of perdition. After all, who is like God,
who,
from the very beginning, has declared the end?
You
know, microcosm to macrocosm?
I couldn't imagine what was to come our way
next.
Surely Dr. Sheolman knew we had power in that
realm
to exercise our volitions since we had overcome
the
lure of the tree. What did he have left for us
to
endure? How long would he allow us to remain in
custody of Steven's bootblack can of faith? The
answers
to my
questions were forthcoming. It was as though
Dr.
Sheolman had read my thoughts, for the bootblack
can of
faith hidden in Steven's hip pocket, loosed
itself
as though by unseen hands, and flew by
sprouted wings beyond the tree and our vision.
Within moments all the desert around us blurred,
as did
the scene before us, and Steven, Prometheus and I
found
ourselves standing alongside Old Blackgoat
against one wall of what could have been launch
control at NASA.
Turning to greet us, Old Blackgoat gave us a
look
containing a mixture of emotions ranging from
perplexity to relief. "Did Scotty beam you in,"
the
old
sage quizzed, as he poked around on us as if to
assure
himself we weren't a vision. "I was afraid
you
wouldn't make it past the forbidden fruit," Old
Blackgoat sighed, looking upward as though to give
thanks. "God heard my prayers for you. I
told Him
if he
didn't deliver you he would have to listen to
my
granddaughter, Sarah, complain about having no one
to
take care of. I told Him that would be fine with
me.
I told Him I had been listening to her complain
about
having to help care for me for many years. I
knew
He would see that you made it here to rescue me.
Anyway, He told me after our fight with the bear it
wasn't
our time to go home, yet, anyway."
"What's going on here?" Steven asked Old
Blackgoat, turning to survey a myriad of ethereal
looking devices emitting the unmistakable glow of
pure
faith. "What are those things for?"
"Looks like we're in some kind of war room," I
said.
Prometheus surveyed our surroundings. "I have
not
seen anything like this in my travels. Witchcraft
has
found many new toys with which to torment man."
Old Blackgoat interrupted. "I believe I know the
answer
to this great puzzle before us. Who must prepare
the
way for the Antichrist before he can come?"
"A very good question," Steven said, "but I
think
I know the answer. The Earth has always had
its
problems with people who channel and interpret
the
services of beings from parallel dimensions. Our
society is no different. Call a 900 number and pay
four
dollars a minute and you can have your world
turned
upside down by psychics, clairvoyants, and
soothsayers. The consequences are minimal, and
enough
receive, or seem to receive benefit. Those
charlatans appear to duplicate the powers of heaven,
itself, and are taking, or keeping people from true
deliverance through experience of the Spirit of God.
Moses met these types in the persons of Jannes and Jambres
in the court of Pharaoh, but their roots go
all
the way back to Babylon where Prometheus was
trapped and imprisoned.
"They've had six thousand years to prepare for
our
day. Jesus said the chief characteristic that
would
be prevalent before the end would be deception.
He
said many false prophets would arise and deceive
many.
The book of Revelation reveals under whose
banner
those false prophets would gather. Now,
Joseph, you tell us, who has prepared the way for the
Antichrist?"
"Well, through the Bible with Steven, from cover to
cover
in two minutes," I laughed, remembering what it
was
like to be in class with the guy. "Well, mmmmm,
let's
see, who could it be, uh.., Mother Babylon?"
"Yes, that must be who it is," a somewhat
surprised Prometheus said, having his spiritual
eyes
enlightened a little more. "And that woman Astarte
who
seduced me, she and Mother Babylon must be one and
the same. God has given me a chance to get my
revenge."
"Calm down big fella'," I cautioned. "You aren't
a part
of that tree anymore."
"Well, are you finished?" I teased Steven a little,
knowing when it came to analysis, he could always
fill
in a few more blanks.
"Now that you mention it," Steven smiled, knowing I
had
bated him, "Astarte, err..Mother Babylon, has a
double
edged role."
"That is right," Old Blackgoat said, happy he
wasn't
the only one with a little understanding.
"Go on," I urged Steven, motioning with my hand to hurry
him
along, "what do you mean, double edged role?"
"I know you are aware of the error Christians
say
the Jews made in regard to their interpretation
of
prophecy concerning the messiah's coming. They
failed
to see the duality of his role. To them he
couldn't be both a suffering messiah and deliverer.
He
could only be their deliverer. The problem we
have
understanding the role of Mother Babylon are
similar. Mind you, I didn't say the roles are
similar, I said the problems we have understanding
the
role of Mother Babylon are similar. Mother
Babylon must first come and set the stage for the
coming
of the Antichrist. The Earth has to be
dripping from her way of life."
"And that is," I interrupted?
"Witchcraft, Satanism, Idolatry, Numerology,
Voodoo, Astrology, Palmistry, Phrenology, Humanism,
Socialism, Communism, Fascism, i.e., perverse
governments in all forms along with its adherent
culture. You know, music, art, cinema, etc.
Today's
Mother
Babylon offers everything at the flick of a
switch
and the touch of a computer.
"In other words, a big bunch of crap," a
familiar voice with a Texas twang on it, interrupted.
"Ketchum," I said! "How..er,..."
He seemed to have a knack for overhearing our
conversations, I thought, somewhat perplexed by his
sudden
appearance.
"Don't mind me any. You all go on with your
discussion. I just might learn something."
"The role," I reminded Steven, "finish up about the
role
of Mother Babylon, err.., Astarte, or whatever
her
name is.
"When the Antichrist comes, in order to make his
deception work, he has to get rid of Astarte. The
problem I have understanding is how will he
accomplish that? Will he just destroy all
spiritual
fornicators, that is, all that practice those things
I have
previously named, or will he simply discredit
her by
claiming all her work to be his own? It's a
tough
call."
"What do you mean, Steven?" I asked.
"You see, Joseph, in order for the Antichrist to
get
the law abiding, conservative, Jewish and
Christian populations to follow him, his ministry has
to be
initially convincing. Ridding the world of
smut
would seem to be a great thing, and it would be.
But in
this case, it would be a deception, if you
weren't God, and your real purpose was to snare and
damn
everyone to hell.
"Sure scares the hell out of me," Ketchum
said.
"How did you get here?" I asked, squaring
myself
up to Ketchum with a smile on my face.
"I just figured I'd give the
three of you a little head start. You know, it's
not exactly a trade secret that we federal agents like
to gather information by following the suspects. I
wanted those two green skinned things to have plenty of
room before I tore out after 'em."
"Did you have any trouble in the passageway, or
with
the tree?" I asked with concern.
"No problem in the passageway. What tree?
The
passageway dropped me off right here."
Steven and I just looked at each other and shook
our
heads. "Never mind," I said.
"Well, where in the Sam--hill are we?" Ketchum
said,
looking around the ultra-modern war room.
"I would say we are in Mother Babylon's
kitchen," Old Blackgoat said coyly.
"Well, where is this Mother Babylon?" Ketchum
said,
looking like he would handcuff her if he could
but
find her.
"Wish you hadn't asked that question," I winced,
taking
a step back from the pack as an eye blinding
glow
exploded in the center of the room, knocking us
all to
our knees, arms raised to protect our vision.
"Welcome, boys," a soft disarming voice
said.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting
for
your race to evolve this far," Astarte intoned
seductively.
"Oh, boy," I mumbled, "we're about to make the
vaunted quantum leap into the god class."
"Why yes, Joseph, you are quite right," the
seductive voice acknowledged. "You are all so
wonderfully gifted it would be unheard of not to
provide you with every opportunity to exercise those
gifts."
"Oh, I get it," Ketchum said, "we're gonna
be
your lab rats. You're gonna study us in an
attempt to figure out how best to pervert God's elect
during
the tribulation. Now everything makes sense.
This
whole mess has had me hornswoggled until now.
Couldn't figure out why anyone would want to burn
their
own operation. You needed guinea pigs. And
it
was
worth it to you to set up this whole elaborate
passageway of the serpent, hell-central-thing, to
cage
us in your laboratory."
"My, how astute, Mr. Ketchum, for such an
impoverished spiritual person as yourself. But
please, do not be offended if we fail to wait upon
the
tribulation to implement the knowledge we gain
from
the five of you. Just look around the room you
are in
now. Do you think these devices are mere
props
for your titillation?"
Astarte had us there. The myriad of
ethereal looking sensory devices embedded in three
dimensional transparent crystal work stations emitted
the
unmistakable glow of pure faith. As best as I
could
tell while shielding my eyes from the blaze of
the
witch's unholy glory, the overall purpose of the lab
was to
pipe misinformation into the human equation
through the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and
keep a
running tab on each and every individual
biting
on the ol' proverbial apple. If you read your
horoscope today for the first time, her lab
recorded the deed.
And, I assumed there was more. For example, I
assumed once a person got in Ma Babylon's computer,
the
computer began working out an elaborate plan for
that
person which ended abruptly at the pit.
"That may be so," Ketchum shot back at the
voice,
"but we wouldn't be here if Christians weren't
a
problem for your little toys. What puzzles me is
how
you think you're gonna trap any of us now that we
all
know what you're up to."
"Oh, my dear Mr. Ketchum," the voice spoke
caringly, "you are so bold for a novice, whatever am
I
going to do with you. We will just have to see."
With those words, Mother Babylon, that old witch
Astarte, split us up. I had expected as much.
Together,
we had
Jesus in our midst. Alone, well, I didn't
know ... Sheolman and companions always seemed to be a step ahead of us.