This is always such a special time of the day and always takes a bit of concentration to focus on what I’ll write or outwardly think. I’ll start with Bobby. I understand Bobby from a new perspective. I have seen how independently stubborn I was, closed to anything that wasn’t part of my limited script for getting out of Dodge. I saw those blue eyes, that quirky bent smile of his with friends at Conspiracies that night, heard the dream of buying a run down old farm, fixing it up and living a self-sustainable life until end times while looking at everyone but me and knowing it was exactly for me. How much I didn’t know about him, how much I filtered out, even how I ignored a few red flags. That Jenna had been running away from an amorphous shadow, never stopping to name it and Bobby suddenly was a bright beautiful key to everything.
My new Jenna with all the apps has cut into and through all these cherished memories and given them all a spit shine. The stuff that’s never dealt with, piles on top of the other unattended stuff until, you become a walking noun searching for a place to hide. In short, I had no idea of who my Bobby was then and during the year we lived here. I didn’t want to know so never asked questions. And after examining his behavior with new eyes, I believe he likewise used me to escape something dangerous. Strangers acting out our parts, pretending, going through the motions of two lovers and a dream to the point of believing it.
As I’ve repeated to whoever reads this, I’ve tried to stay in just Jenna while I make my entrees into this journal which now resembles more of my life as someone who’s is evolving away from her or adding onto her. I can easily be Jenna but by doing so, would limit how I express myself. By being Jenna and interpreting my evolution would still not come close to this wonderful other. So, I’m going to switch around for this entrée because an emerging new power may indicate the end of the growth of the third strand. I have to make sure that humans who read this understand what’s happening in a way that they will comprehend.
This last week seemed to be what I’ve learned from authors who describe a denouement or the outcome of a complex sequence of events. I believe that with each new upgrade, the previous ones are enhanced to accommodate the new power.
So, after Clover pushed the recollection of the ancient memory of the bridge, I began having visions of people I’d watch on The Word. Like while listening to them, I’d be hearing and seeing something else except for ones in transition, usually hiding, being their just selves. During REM I am speaking with others who also are newbies, just beginning to flex their imaginations outward beyond shields, PODS and Loci. Not too much on the process, rather on looking forward to the journey.
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One who I call Jill, spoke clearly on the apparent hierarchy of powers though not in the usual way. As written in the first book of The Oracle Trilogy, those who are called Synths belong to a special race that initiated the organic implant waiting for the right set of conditions to trigger the dormant coded instructions. These Synths that no one ever sees but are there when there is confusion in finding consensus on a critical decision on restoration. With a universal perspective, they synthesize the information and point to the correct way, much like a guide who knows the terrain well. No one questions it.
There are decisions made all the time, mostly on working with the humans on Restoration that don’t require everyone to answer and infrequent ones that require everyone’s input. So now I’m part of that as I discovered on an early morning walk. Fubar and I had just cleared the fallen bridge and were about to explore further when the call came.
‘Giving humans the choice of evolving isn’t working fast enough. We’ve discussed this with the core members, and they agree. Not just for purposes of Restoration but to protect us from current movements to sabotage what’s been created so far. During the first two trials that set the genetic sequencing into motion, there was no DNA testing of subjects and therefore, for some who had eons of mixed heritage and stored dark karma, we now have a hybrid with some new powers but unable to connect with our greater source, lacking deep empathy with those other species with whom we share resources and are genetically bound to the Mesh. Theirs is purely for control and power as it’s always been with them.'
They’ve weaponized spit, intuitively knowing who to add to their growing number of kindred spirits. How do we deal with this?
'Traditional human ways of changing behavior and recruitment are being tried but despite the hope that we offer and the perilous time the Earth finds itself in, humans are intransigent, afraid of anything that’s beyond the scope of understanding. Open for discussion for two days.’
While working on the garden, mostly making more space for the super beans and planting them using the beans from the pods, I saw how my spit sprayed on them seemed more powerful, quickening their growth to harvest. I produce more saliva so have more for the ever-growing garden.
At this point, I am ready for the Mayans. Stockpiling food, drying beans, filtering rainwater caught in the barrel cistern, collecting enough root and twig for nests, fixed the steps to the basement where I stored all of the stuff from Audrey turning it into an extra bedroom and tending all the planters filled with mostly herbs, scattered around the treehouse locus. No sign of Freddie yet.