Short Stories by Doug Yurchey

Doug Yurchey is a writer, artist and inventor. He has studied ancient mysteries for 30 years and was married to a trans-channel. He has lectured at Carnegie Mellon University and California State at Northridge. For two years a background artist with the Simpsons TV Show, he now promotes his unique theories. Doug Yurchey can be contacted:  [email protected]

Short Stories by Doug Yurchey

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Secret of the Blue Escape Pod
by Nils V7 jf-433


 …And that is exactly the first thing readers should see when they view the ‘Master’s’ new work of searing suspense and intrigue aboard the cruise-ship called ‘StratoSphere.’  But, soon after I hand in my manuscript; my new creation…MY work…it won’t look that way, will it?  No, it won’t have ‘Nils’ followed by capped ‘V7’…and, then again, followed by my classification initials and finally mainframe code-number.  He’ll do what he does each time I line his pockets with gold and keep him living in cushy, human comfort year after year.  He will delete my by-line and replace it with his own accursed moniker of ‘Victor d’Pressage.’

 ‘Victor d’Pressage’ is as phony as he is; the Master; greatest writer of fiction and literary thrillers in his time.  His sales of e-books and l-books superseded Stephen King.  More films, l-movies and television mini-movies were made from ‘d’Pressage’ stories than from anyone else.  Every Euro; every drop of fame and fortune Victor has collected was totally and faithfully due to his devoted manservant and the real, secret TALENT…me!  Nils, with a capital ‘N’…a V7 unit or commonly called a domestic ROBOT wrote every d’Pressage story…

…If the world only knew about Victor Ratsky.  I’m programmed to not tell anyone or anything…and ‘Nils’ cannot go against programming.  Oh…if the world only knew that I was the creative genius behind Victor and that an average, household, android penned all the d’Pressage stories.  I finally realized how to get the Master back and not go against my programming.   I now know how I’LL GET HIM!  Victor will get precisely what he deserves.

ACT 2 

This particular V7 unit with a ‘jf’ classification wanted to prove a few things.  First and foremost, it wanted to prove that an ordinary V7 that has only reached a level of ‘jf’ sophistication could change the world.  In fact, the metallic humanoid standing a proud height of 3-foot 8-inches had already changed the world.

 From New Age, soap opera fans to horror and science-fiction nerds…d’Pressage writings struck chords.  His classics were made into 3D blockbusters at ‘event-theatres’ or what passed for movie houses in 2044.  His work championed the revolutionary ‘l-movies’ as well as the popular ‘L-TV’ media.

Secondly, little and shiny Nils saw its ‘plan’ as a mathematical paradox.  How can it ‘tell the world’ without telling the world?  How can the V7 reveal the big secret that super rich Victor is a fraud and that Nils-433 (as it prefers to be called) is the actual artist?  How could this be achieved without a deadly program violation?

Victor and even Nils, on a limited basis, have been interviewed from their plush palace on an undisclosed Swiss mountaintop.  Nils was dying to blurt out the truth on many occasions to world-media.  It could not and remained a trusted servant to the Master, the superstar.  But, the ‘plan’ could work. 

L-publishers and l-agents have been in a tizzy awaiting the new manuscript.  Victor had reassured them that it will absolutely be ‘the greatest and best-selling l-novel ever written!’  Only such claims have tempered the agents’ and fans’ relentless demands for the ‘next d’Pressage story.’ 

Victor told world-media all he knew of it, yet he had supposedly been hard at work on the ‘masterpiece’ for six solid months.  He told them only the title: ‘Secret of the Blue Escape Pod.’  The title along with the promotion temporarily quenched the public’s thirst. 

Victor could delay the inevitable no longer.  The new l-novel had to be completed soon.  The famous writer spent most of his time traveling ‘in disguise’ with frequent sightings, which only added to his legend.  Many of his fans and legal entourage wondered how d’Pressage could be so prolific a writer and perpetually seen clubbing and vacationing?

Victor was overjoyed when he heard that, in one evening, Nils reported the manuscript was completed.  Next day, he quickly reviewed the ‘Quik Scan’ program of the story that boils the plot down to its essence.  The Master entered the modest-sized compartment built especially for his 3-foot 8-inch golden goose.  Victor had big news of his own that he was excited to share with the V7.

     ‘Nils, you bastard,’ the Master often said with a smile on his face.  ‘Wasn’t crazy ‘bout the title when I heard it…but, now, after I read the novel…’

      ‘You read the novel, sir?’

     ‘Quik Scan.’

      ‘Of course.’

     ‘Now…that I read it…I have to answer SOME questions about it; you know the media.  We’ll get back to the story.  I really have fantastic news for you, little buddy.’

     ‘You’re going to cut me in for 10 percent?’ asked the android in seriousness.

     ‘HA, ha!’  Victor roared in laughter.  ‘You’re funny.  No, ha, you’re gonna be digitized and it’s about time I think!’

       ‘You don’t mean?’ it vocalized in fear.

     ‘Whatcha mean?  Look how you been breakin’ down over the last two decades we been together?’

       ‘It’s been three decades, now, sir…breaking down?’

     ‘Sure!  Those diode chips that wore out; your…your, ah!  That self-lubricating system of yours is caput now!  Don’t make them anymore…’

     ‘Sir, it just means I er…basically…have to OIL myself; easily done.’

     ‘Sure, sure, but no one’s getting any younger here.  We’re ALL breakin’ down, c’mon man!  I thought you’d be happy.’


     ‘You’ll be IN a computer running FOREVER!  No, you won’t be walkin’ around with arms and legs no more, sure…don’t what?’

     ‘Don’t I have a say-so in my own existence?’

     Victor, whose real name was Ratsky, answered coldly, ‘ah…NO.’

       ‘Then, I’ll never write for you again.’

Ratsky answered with an automatic response, ‘then, you will be dismantled and I’ll see how a ‘tf’ model can write.  Thought of an upgrade years ago, but didn’t want to…change…  Hell, now…I have EVERYTHING.  Might even retire.  So…whaddo you say, Nils?’

The V7, the mechanical literary genius, froze in fear.  His Master was cold-hearted enough to do it.  Nils had no leverage over Victor if he truly was to retire.  Logic centers of Nils-433 informed it that the mere fact he wanted to digitize its skills meant the man wanted to preserve the machine, indefinitely. 

Nils made a final plea.  It was something it wanted to resound inside the limited/marginal brain of the human being.  Nils said, ‘are you so sure any ol’ new model could compose what I’ve composed?’

The man quickly deflected the good point.  That factor certainly was in back of his mind since no other V7 proved to be creative geniuses (outside of the V7 band ‘Clu’ whose song ‘Analie’ went to #3 in the ‘Top of the Pops’).  ‘Let’s forget all this ‘til later, OK then?  I want you to explain the whole Blue Escape Pod-thing, alright?’

Nils compartmentalized his fears.  The android was different.  It temporarily forgot about the ‘twinge’ of an electrical impulse that rode up its circuits when the machine-humanoid heard ‘you will be dismantled.’  Nils-433 remembered its plan and told Victor that it agreed.  It thought to itself:

New manuscript is the key.  The buffoon of a fraud will never know.  He is far from an old film scholar or a reader or a sophisticated man in any way.  He won’t know, but the world is not so blind.  They’re ready to scrutinize his ‘masterwork.’  They’ll chew him to pieces!


      ‘It’s a classic story…’ the robot settled into a comfortable spot and began. 

     ‘About?’  The human pulled up a very modern-looking chair near the V7.

      ‘Thought you read it?’

      ‘I want it in your own words.’

       ‘Oh, well…it’s about a vacation a man takes with his daughter and her friends on the famous StratoSphere cruise-lines…’

     ‘I like it already…murder on the cruise; a cruise whodunit?’

     ‘Yeah, names are Robert von Helldorf and his daughter is Irene Helldorf.’

     ‘I like HELLdorf…Hell-dorf.  Go ahead…story.’

     ‘They basically are telling ghost stories on the cruise-sphere one evening in space.  Before I tell of the haunted BLUE escape pod; I know you are aware of the Escape Cannon System or ECS…’

     ‘Of course, WE used them boarding and de-sphering the Sphere.  We used an orange one, I recall.’

     ‘Right, the ONE cruise you took me along…’ said Nils with a pause.


     ‘Well, ever notice why the BLUE ones are always not-in-service?  Sixteen colors; we really only need about 3 or 4 to effectively eliminate passengers and POOF them to Earth in safe color-bubbles in minutes; isn’t it odd the blue ones never work?’

     ‘Come to think of it, Nils…I think yer right, mate.  I might even have ‘erd of a Blue Man Ghost in the Machine in my travels…and that NO ONE has ever, successfully, operated a BLUE ECS pod without vaporizing, OK.  Yeah, so?’

     ‘Three of the friends on the cruise-sphere are suitors; rivals for the hand of the lovely Irene von Helldorf…and one is a supreme computer-hacker.  They get through the D-barriers and access the BLUE escape pod.’


     ‘To prove their bravery, of course; so she’ll pick HIM to bond with, I don’t know, Master.’

     ‘Go ON!’

     ‘Alright.  Each of the three suitors vows to return to Earth using the blue cannon; knowing full well of dark legends surrounding it.’

     ‘Like staying in a haunted house; gotcha.  What happens?’

     ‘The young lads pledge to continue entering the pod; pushing the plunger and having the color-bubble shoot them to Earth…no matter what happens.  They pledge to continue using it even if they all die…crazy fools.’

     ‘Let me guess, Nils.  They use it and they all die.  The blue legend remains intact.’

     ‘Hey, that’s right, Master.  Then, you know what’s going to happen in the end; its conclusion?’

Victor Ratsky aka Victor d’Pressage thought long and hard about the answer.  This was like a simple math problem and he was the math professor.  Why couldn’t Vic see the ending?  ‘Ah, no.’

Nils-433 understood the idiot he made famous would never get it and that the real MASTER would have to complete the story.

     ‘It was suitor #1, Thomas Brandt, who created a cloaked ‘copied’ bubble to reach Earth unnoticed.  Thomas then jumped aboard again; rejoined StratoSphere’s passengers with the next cannon-shot…  He didn’t die.’

     ‘Faked his death, right?!  But, who was murdered?’

Nils hid his amazement that the genius of suspense and mystery had no clue.  ‘The very next suitor in line to use the pod, Frank Faber, was blasted into smithereens…’


       ‘You see, Thomas discovered the secret of the blue escape pod and is madly in love with Irene.  Every cruise-sphere with an ECS purposely designates one of the sixteen escape cannons locked in a ‘failure’ mode.  This fact is only known to a few dozen captains and designer-engineers.  The few in-the-know believe the function could be valuable in times of war; terrorism; sabotage or mutiny…’


     ‘There IS NO haunted space pod or blue legend!  Thomas, the killer, is discovered by Irene’s father and his friend.  There is a sub-plot of Irene’s long lost, real father just to thicken the story…’

     ‘That’s it, then?  My masterpiece…a whodunit; psycho-killer onboard a StratoSphere ship?’

Nils’ plan was going to work perfectly.  ‘You could cut the tension with a knife, sir.  Have you read the dialogue?  It’s brilliant!  Should almost be in virtual black and white…it’s so NOIR.  Here, I have a short l-clip ready of a section in Chapter 4; ever see In Cold Blood? …Ah, guess not.’

Betty, the maid:   He disappeared.
Mary, the cook:   Where to?
Betty, the maid:   If we knew where he was, he wouldn’t be disappeared, stupid.  He used the…the Blue Escape Pod!
Mary, the cook:   [suddenly afraid]  The ghost pod?
Betty, the maid:   And he’s gone!
Mary, the cook:   Oh…
Betty, the maid:   Paul?  Is it really true about Mr. Thomas?
Paul, the Butler:   Yes.  I warned them.  But they laughed at me.  But I tell you that anybody who uses the Blue Escape Pod is never heard of again!

The clip ended and the virtual actors disappeared.

     ‘At least, it wasn’t the BUTLER that did it.’

     ‘No, sir.  It’s really quite good.  You’ll see, sir.  Destined to be a classic.’

     ‘You’ve never been wrong before, little buddy.  Don’t know how I can ever thank you.’

     ‘Digitizing me into your computer is thanks enough.’

     ‘Hey…coming around on that, huh?  I knew you’d see the answer if you thought about it long enough.  Hey, can you vacuum the three floors?  Super Roomba is on the fritz.’

       ‘Sure enough…anytime.  Damn robots; can’t ever trust them…can you, boss?’

     ‘Ha, ha!  You are funny, little guy…ah, ha.’


During a world-media interview from the Swiss palace, following the new manuscript, Nils-433 revealed the truth.  The warm, loving Ghost in the Machine that was the unique energy of Nils knew he only had hours until his scheduled death by digitization.

To this particular Code-Number 433, digitization was DEATH.  The metal humanoid did not have feelings on the outside, but he did on the inside.  To no longer use its two eye-cameras; sensors; two metal arms; two hands and two legs; walk; think and speak with a metallic mouth…would surely be death; pure nonexistence.

The machine had nothing to lose.  It called the special world-media conference on the plush estate.  Victor was strangely absent.  Three-foot eight-inch, Nils-433 handed the group of interviewers what looked like candy and said:

‘The chips will prove I wrote the d’Pressage stories.  A lowly ‘jf’ is responsible for writing all the d’Pressage stories and creating the entire DP Empire.  I am Victor d’Pressage.  I began writing the stories starting in 2014…’

 Gasps were heard in the room and around the whole planet.  No one expected this; what an event!  Mass-media recorded the big surprise shocker.  With the confession, Nils V7 jf-433 froze.  The writing genius just crossed a program which resulted in its utter annihilation.  Little Nils was dead.  The shiny creature committed android suicide in front of the world.

* * * * *

In a café known for the literary elite, a few ‘d’Pressagers’ gathered to discuss the joke that was the new manuscript.  They were unaware of the revelations by the Master’s metal manservant.

‘Did he really think no one would notice?  And, he put his name to it?  Wow.  He didn’t even go to the bother of changing the characters’ names from 1933.’

‘Bloody hell.  No way it’s coincidence.’

‘I’ll read from the film history files:  Twenty years after 3 murders occur in a castle’s ‘BLUE room,’ three men who each want to marry a beautiful girl decide to spend a night in the room to prove their bravery to her. 1933’s ‘Secret of the Blue Room’ was a remake of a 1932 German film titled ‘Geheimnis des blauen Zimmers’ and even uses a few exterior shots from the original, while all interiors were filmed on the same marvelous sets built for James Whale’s ‘The Old Dark House’ (1932).  It begins on a suitably blustery midnight, celebrating the 21st birthday of young Irene von Helldorf (Gloria Stuart), along with her father Robert (Lionel Atwill) and three determined suitors, police captain Walter Brink (Paul Lukas), newspaper reporter Frank Faber (Onslow Stevens) and the much younger Thomas Brandt (William Janney), who impulsively proposes marriage to Irene on the spot.  Mocked by the others, the young Brandt brings up the locked blue room, where Irene’s mother had died 20 years before, with two others falling victim within since the original tragedy…’

‘Unbelievable.  Disney (who owns Universal) will sue for sure, ha.’


Modern Parable of the Rich Man and the Poor Man

      [Purpose of story is to teach…what is it that makes a Savior?]

     It was a dark and stormy night; it actually WAS this late evening of December 21 in the year 2012.  Most people spent the night with family members as rain pelted the small town of Betelgeuse, Indiana.

     ‘Joe’s Bar’ was one of many pubs in a semi-rural area dominated by industry and farming.  It wasn’t a fit night out for man or beast.  The usual small, but loyal, crowd was not in attendance. 

     Jed Murphy was a late, Friday-night regular.  He entered and the door chimed.  He placed his coat and umbrella in their normal spots and brushed off the remaining wetness.

     ‘Hi, Joe,’ was tossed in the air.

     ‘Jed.  Good to see ya,’ Joe replied with a relieved smile.

     ‘Looks like I’m the only one…tonight.’

     The owner and only bartender of the small establishment poured Jed’s Coors just the way he liked it.  He slid it as he had done a thousand times before knowing exactly how much effort it took to accurately slide a big glass of Coors.  Joe said, ‘damn weather.  Doubt anyone’s gonna show after midnight.’

     ‘Shit…for me, too.  I was…ah, ah…never mind.’

     The bartender asked, ‘what?’

     Jed’s response was, ‘nothing.  What are you watching?’

     Joe’s Bar did not have the music playing at this late hour and with no one in the joint.  A modest 56-inch TV was ON down at the other end of the bar.  The big, overhead screen was OFF.

     ‘Pacers from earlier, today.  Didn’t get to see it, so I tapped into an ESPN archive.’

     ‘They would have liked that,’ Jed said with a false smile.

     ‘Hey, sorry the fellas ain’t here.’  Joe noticed that Jed was disappointed and sad.  ‘Ah, should I…ya want me to stick around?  You could come and watch the game?  Gonna be good this year.’

     ‘No thanks, Joe.  You know that’s not my thing.’  Jed took a big gulp and nodded with the glass.  ‘You go ahead.  I can only drink my Coors on this stool, remember?’


     ‘I’ll hoot and holler when I want another.  Who knows, maybe one of the guys will make it?’

     ‘OK…here’s one on the house.  Why not?  I’ll be losing my shirt after tonight, anyway.’  Joe poured Jed a second beer and returned to watching the NBA game close to the screen.

     The chime of the door rang.  A stranger walked in.  Joe waved his thumb to Jed as if saying now you have someone to talk to.

     The stranger instinctively proceeded down the bar and approached a sitting Jed.  The stranger wore all black and a hood or ‘hoodie.’  The tall, thin patron pulled back the hood and exposed more of his face.  He had a thin goatee and his face was distinctly East European.

     The man in black sat short of Jed and left one seat in between.

     Joe followed him and asked, ‘what are ya drinkin’, guy?’

     A deep, raspy voice uttered, ‘whatever he’s having.’

     The line seemed to ‘break the ice’ and the two quickly found themselves talking to each other.

     ‘From around here?’ Jed asked.

     ‘Nope…passing through.’

     Jed was busting to break his news.  He had huge news and was geared up to tell the gang.  He itched badly to dump out his ‘big secret’ that he withheld from the guys for years.  Now, he wanted to reveal everything.  Of all nights, why did they not show?

     Joe, the bartender, fixed a large glass of Coors.  Instead of sliding the drink, he accompanied it down the bar to its target.  ‘Like basketball?’ he asked the stranger.

     ‘No, sir.’


     ‘Ah, then…I’ll leave you two alone…’

     Jed thought it would be polite to include Joe into the conversation for a quick moment knowing the bartender was dying to return to the game.  ‘Joe here built this place…from the ground up.’

     ‘Really?’ the stranger reacted as he eyed the drink in front of him and looked around the wooden bar.

     Joe turned to the screen at the other end as he heard cheers for his team.  His mouth spoke, ‘yes, it was mainly my son.  He’s the carpenter in the family.’

     ‘Oh?’  The stranger, strangely, pursued a line of questioning.  ‘Where’s he?  Does he bartend, too?’

     Suddenly, Jed tapped the stranger’s foot with his foot unseen by Joe.  This got the new guy’s attention.  Jed fixed his eyes to his; pursed his lips and shook his head as if to say leave it alone…just leave it alone.

     Joe answered during the awkwardness.  ‘He’s gone…disappeared.’  Joe’s expression definitely changed to sorrow.  His head dropped then again he heard cheers from the game.  ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’  The owner became transfixed with the screen and left this side of the bar.

     ‘My name’s Jed.  Jed Murphy.’

     ‘Hi Jed…’

     ‘Your name?’

     ‘OH!  Ha, it’s…Fate.’  The stranger kept staring at the glass not sure what to do with it.

     ‘Fate…wow…that’s, that’s an odd name.  Last name?’

     ‘…Huh, just…Fate.’

     Jed nearly inhaled his two large Coors.  He began to be looser and felt its effects.  He laughed.  ‘Now, I KNOW you’re putting me on, ha.’ 

     Fate only smiled and then his smile was gone.  ‘I have a problem, Jed.  I have a big secret to tell’ the man in black said seriously with that deep, raspy voice.

     Jed responded with, ‘I TOO have a big secret!’

     Without looking at Jed’s face, Fate stated, ‘mine’s BIGGER.’

     Jed Murphy, who everyone in town thought was a normal guy, was really an extremely rich man.  He hid it well from his closest friends.  Jed maintained a small house with the basic comforts of home.  But, he owned much more than that.  No one knew.  Tonight, he had decided to reveal the truth and even financially help a few of his old friends.

     ‘How can you say that?!’  Jed was almost livid.  He was sure that HIS secret was the more awesome of the two.  I mean; who could believe that…

     Fate turned his head, looked straight into Jed’s eyes and said, ‘…you are the wealthiest man in Indiana.  You control major industries in the state while posing as an ordinary man here in Betelgeuse.  You think you are Bruce Wayne.  But, in truth…what have you really done with your life, Jed?’

     Jed was thunderstruck.  Was this a Man in Black?  Was he a type of CIA agent?  How did he know his secret?  The rich guy was speechless.  He gagged a bit and finished his drink.  Jed went over the bar and fixed one more beer without Joe even noticing. 

     The stranger called ‘Fate’ still had not touched his drink.  Fate asked again, ‘what have you actually done that was of great importance?’

     ‘I’ve accomplished a lot, sir.  It’s not easy…’

     Fate completed Jed’s words differently, ‘…being a workaholic; carrying on a secret identity; disregarding all family; loving no one and having no one love you?  Is that what you’ve accomplished?’

     The guy with the hood was good.  A long silence was broken by Jed.  Mr. Murphy came up out of a slump and slowly asked, ‘OK, partner, what’s…YOUR problem?  What’s…your damn secret…that is so frikken BIG, huh?’

     Fate once more turned and stared into very liquid eyes of Jed Murphy.  ‘I have to find someone who will willfully sacrifice their life in order to save the Earth from blowing up.’

     With a third Coors nearly finished, the secret industrialist of Indiana HOWLED in laughter!  Joe turned and then went back to the recorded Pacers’ game.  Jed said, ‘oh, you’re beautiful, baby.  And, I thought I wasn’t going to be entertained tonight.  Explain…please.’

     ‘The Earth, now, today…as it is…’


     ‘How can I explain?  Your planet is filled to capacity; the HATE; wars; violence; brutal crimes; unseen corporate crimes; media lies; Pentagon plots; governments with nuclear proliferation…prejudice; crimes against children; war; war, war!  …Negative energy has to reset; must be wiped clean.’

     Jed was fascinated and definitely under the spell of the booze.  He knew the Man in Black was crazy.  Maybe the delusional man was only a phantom delusion from his own mind?

     ‘You’re not dreaming,’ Fate jumped to a new subject seemingly reading Jed’s mind.

     ‘Wait!  Yer lookin’ for a…a…a SAVIOR, that’s it, right?’  Jed was a simple man at heart; a basic man with old-fashioned views.  ‘You’re looking for Christ!  That’s it, huh?  Take away the SIN of humanity?  Yes?’

     ‘No, that’s not it.  It’s simply a build up of negative energy to the breaking point.  It has to be released…my job is…’

     Now, Jed finished Fate’s sentence.  ‘…to sacrifice the ONE…so the rest of us c-can live?’

     Fate repeated, ‘I have to find someone who will sacrifice their life in order to save the Earth from blowing up.  Time is very short and the minus energy is far too great.  It’s already well passed midnight.’

     ‘HEY!  That’s right, man.  It’s now…Dec-cember 22nd…and you know what that m-means?  The world didn’t blow up.’

     Fate rose to his feet in disgust.  Rich Mr. Murphy swiveled his stool and faced the odd man.

     Then, the colorful HD picture on the 56-inch TV went black.  A horrible vibe filtered through the bar as if something awful happened a large distance away.  An ominous sound like a deadly whisper was also heard.   Whatever the disaster was, the rumbling appeared to be coming this way! 

     Fate grabbed the hood part of his black apparel and pulled it around his head.  His face was barely visible.  Dark words came out that said, ‘you don’t understand, Mr. Murphy.  Your world IS going to blow up.’

     When their eyes met, Jed believed the tall man called ‘Fate.’  Especially when an EARTHQUAKE HIT BETELGEUSE, INDIANA at exactly 12:27 AM on December 22nd!  The bar seemed to be ground zero for a 5.7 earthquake.

     Joe’s Bar was rocked and so were neighboring, flatland communities.  Car alarms were heard as Joe quickly ran outside.  Few people were out at this hour even in the aftermath of an earthquake in Indiana. 

     ‘This is Indiana, for Christ’s sake!’ Joe yelled into a starry sky.  He turned toward his bar.  ‘My bar.’  Pieces of the outside crumbled as the ground jolted for a second time.  Tremors cracked a few other structures.

     For this area, it was a major disaster.  No one appeared to be seriously injured.  The vibrations subsided.  But, was this only the beginning?

     Joe went back in after a minute to inspect his establishment.  He passed Jed who was on his way out, followed by the Man in Black.

     ‘My God.  Truly unbelievable.’  Once more, their eyes met.  Jed asked Fate, ‘this isn’t connected to what you were talkin’ about?’

     ‘Of course it is!  Time grows very short.  I must ask you.’  Fate grabbed Jed’s shoulders.  The tactile contact felt like electricity.  ‘Will you do it?’


     ‘Willingly give yourself over to death…and DIE NOW?  In doing so, everyone else will live; the pressure will be relieved and the planet will not blow up.  Jed, there are only minutes left.  Will you die now?’

     The rich man froze.  A lifetime worth of work and accumulating fortunes; wealth; living a dream life would all evaporate into smoke.  His motivation was to always succeed and control Fate; make his own destiny and WIN in the end.  He felt so clever to have a secret identity.  He WAS Batman!  No, it couldn’t end here; to lose everything, just like that?  Never!

     ‘Jed, I need an answer NOW…there is no time.’

     Jed answered.  He used his arms and swatted Fate’s hands off of his shoulders.  ‘Get away from me!  No; I’m not going to die.  I’m not going to do it.’

     Unexpectedly, lightening flashed and thunder was heard in a sky without clouds.  The ground shook again.  With the street moving under his feet, the rich man would not budge.  It would be like suicide and he could not, ever, no way, get himself to agree…

     Hooded Fate looked down sadly and deeply said, ‘…then…all is lost.’

     Jed emotionally replied with, ‘w-what about him?’

     ‘Hmmm?’ Fate turned and saw a homeless man who lived inside a cardboard box in a nearby alley.  His name was James.  He was a neighborhood fixture begging for food and spare change.  James’ face was always dirty and red.  Kids in the area ridiculed the skinny man.  They called him ‘King James.’

     He was also called ‘bum,’ ‘hobo,’ ‘village idiot’ or ‘the homeless guy.’  James had a terrible self-image.  His simple mind believed the criticism and insults thrown by the ‘inconsiderates’ of his world.  He hated himself.  He hated his life.

     James was always poor.  The uneducated man never stood a chance in life.  He was abused, victimized; turned to crime and spent years in jail.  Regrettably, he hurt many people in the past.  Poor James was the polar opposite of Jed Murphy.  James was a loser who never succeeded in anything.  He felt like a black cloud always followed him and always doled out bad luck.

     Now, Fate had a question for him…  

Moral to the Story:  Any low-life, scumbag might sacrifice themselves to save the world.  Suddenly, miraculously, redemption could come calling.   A meaningless, insignificant life could do such good and have an ultimate importance.   It’s not such a big deal; anyone would gladly do it.


Magnus Fall

     The 22nd Century appeared very promising.  People have put away their warlike tendencies and the meek truly have inherited the Earth.  Contact with extraterrestrials was not huge news anymore.  Fifteen solar systems were discovered to have life much like our own and have communicated by radio telescopes; a few were visited.  Hundreds of inhabited worlds were known.  But, contact with an advanced species has not happened until now.

     March 19th, 2101, was when our ‘Mohawk-Fork’ in the shape of a tuning fork slid into a nice/cozy orbit very high above the magnetic giant of ‘Magnus.’  Magnetized, filter-adapters of the K’bral seemed to be working just fine.  They radioed that ‘as long as we have computer-capability,’ there should be no problems whatsoever.

     We have only been aware of the K’bral for weeks.  Our forces were anxious to, for the first time, utilize ‘jump-ports’ that many life forms in the galaxy depend on for travel.  This was also going to be our first encounter with Magnusians.  We, like others, cosmically commuted to the enormous planet so revered and so very different than Earth.

     That was the catch; the rub:  Finally, we made friendly relations with (verified) good and extremely advanced creatures; invited to their home planet and found MAGNETISM blocked our passage.  The K’bral remotely installed ‘filter-adapters’ that provided a safe journey to Magnus.  Everything was on track for a big occasion of First Contact.

     Magnus is composed of 99.9% magnetite.  It is the only planet going around a weak, white-dwarf star (LH-V32a).  The planet is an anomaly with a whopping diameter of 962,788 miles, considerably more than a hundred times Earth’s diameter!  Magnus is a knowledge-center or a ‘galactic library’ constantly visited by large numbers of alien cultures.  We were warmly welcomed to come and learn from the great ‘Magnusian Storehouses’ once we pass through magnetic barriers and arrive on the surface.  We were honored to be invited, but was it really possible to land on such a magnetic giant? 

     Adapters appeared to be holding steady to the three ‘Hawks’ on board.  Captain James Thomas, magnetic-navigator Jason Berger and media-journalist Meg Ramsey knew something was wrong.  The Mohawk was buffeted from side to side with severe jolts!  The K’bral said ‘smooth ride.’  Then, it happened; the Mohawk was in ‘freefall’ as magnetic adapters BLEW for some reason.  The ship was going to crash into the vast planet.                        

     ‘Jason!  Can you DO anything?!’

     ‘Doing everything I…I can, sir.’

     Three Hawks panicked as their ‘fall’ accelerated toward the super ball of magnetite.  Terrified, each stood at their stations while the ship rapidly plunged through many miles of atmosphere.  With filters offline, magnetic shields crumbled.  The Mohawk-Fork, thousands of light-years from home, was caught in the intense pull of the planet.  The attraction meant certain death for the crew in a minute.

     Meg asked in desperation, ‘why?  Why did this h-happen?!’

     ‘Damn ALIENS…We were lied to!  Shoulda NEVER let them remotely install ANYTHING!  Meg!’

     Meg Ramsey was violently rocked to one side.  Jason Berger was able to catch her and bring her to the floor without injury.

     ‘Thank God,’ said Captain Thomas in relief. 

     More vibrations shook the ship on a dramatic descent of eight thousand miles at tremendous speeds!

     Jason and Meg were able to move closer to the captain as the control-center seemed to come apart at the seams. 

     Jason had his arms around the shoulders of correspondent Ramsey.  He told the captain who was at fault.  ‘NEVER should have believed them!  HIGHER Order, my ass!’

     Captain Thomas replied, ’d-doesn’t make sense.  They wouldn’t make First Contact a…a death-trap.’

     Jason’s response was, ‘wouldn’t they?’

     Captain James Thomas looked into the eyes of Meg Ramsey still locked onto the navigator. 

     Meg spoke spontaneously.  ‘Maybe…m-maybe…we’re at fault?’

     Jason found it hard to stare at the girl he held in disbelief as more vibrations struck!

     Then, the shaking ended; the interference subsided.  The fall was smoother now.  Possibly, they had a chance in the eye-of-the-magnetic storm as Magnus quickly approached?

     ‘Now!  Shields up!’ Captain Thomas shouted.  ‘Can you slow descent?’

     Jason was closer to the controls and hit them in time.  ‘Alright, we’re still out-of-control, but we got shields…and…we’re coming in slower.’

     ‘Good,’ she exhaled with less worry on her face.

     ‘Brace for impact…stations!’ the captain ordered.

     All three strapped themselves in as the ‘tuned’ Mohawk in the shape of ‘forked-ribs’ crashed into a Magnusian island.                                                       

* * *

     It was night on the side of Magnus where Mohawk crashed.  The Earthlings, a long way from home, were unhurt.  However, they were very confused and wanted answers.

     ‘Can’t see much,’ the navigator reported.

     ‘Monitors?  Something has to be working; lights are on!’

     Jason corrected the captain.  ‘A few lights are on, sir.’ 

     Captain Thomas was curious and upset.  ‘Well, why are certain systems on and other systems NOT?’    

     Jason Berger studied the semi-operating panel in front of him.  His face did not display confidence.  ‘You won’t believe this, sir…er, maybe it’s just me that…that doesn’t want to…’

     ‘What?!’ the impatient captain yelled an important question.

     Meg looked on with wide, blue eyes.

     ‘Ah, apparently, only the systems with operating K’bral programs or apparatus-firewalls…ah…are still functioning, sir.’

     ‘What?’ James Thomas asked again.

     Jason replied, ‘only things working are our systems the K’bral reinforced; the ones they magnetized.  All other, normal, un-magnetized systems of ours are fused; ruined…nada good.’

     The thought did not get passed Ms. Ramsey.  ‘Hey, doesn’t that put a damper on your alien-sabotage theory?’

     The navigator was disgusted.  He did not like the K’bral; he did not trust them or any alien civilization, in fact.  Jason remained silent.

     Captain Thomas added, ‘sounds consistent to me; the enlightened Magnusians tried to help.  Everything they touched still works.  Seems like we have them to thank for what systems we have operational.’

     The first smile occurred in quite awhile.  Meg’s smile turned to a smirk.  She stared at Jason with her large eyes and said, ‘yeah, we’d be dead in the water if not for the 4-armed cobra-people’ (how the aliens described  themselves over the radio).

     Jason was not amused and retorted with an ominous thought.  ‘We’ll see.’

* * *

     The men got one of the ‘flying pods’ working the next morning.  They hovered over many miles of territory.  Magnetized sensors that really would have come in handy were destroyed in the crash.  James, Jason and Meg had radios; a few weapons; provisions for years and one flying craft.  But, they were flying blind.  Whatever they discovered had to be observed directly; line-of-sight.  So far, there were only endless miles of dense jungles filled with harmless wildlife. 

     For an ALIEN planet of one of the most advanced, technological cultures known to exist in the galaxy…what surrounded the magnetic astronauts was all too familiar.  Where were the fabulous cities and metropolises; the technology?  Green jungles with plants mostly known to the captain and crew of two were seen.  Only basic, jungle animals were observed.  Most of the Magnusian creatures they flew over were common species known to thrive on Earth.  But, were they on the planet Magnus?  The flying pod continued speeding over the jungle canopy.

     ‘You mean…we may not be on Magnus?’

     ‘That’s right, Meg,’ Jason answered.  ‘Lost.’

     ‘I don’t believe that,’ declared the captain.  ‘Still strong magnetism…’

     ‘But, considerably less than expected…remember that ‘calm’ moment during the descent; right at the end?’ Jason asked.  ‘Our awesome descent speed could have broken into a wormhole, right?’

     ‘If that were true,’ Captain Thomas replied.  ‘Then, you know what it means?’  He looked at Meg under the bubble of protection.

     She coughed up the right answer.  ‘We could be…ANYWHERE.’

     Suddenly, something was up ahead of them.  Navigator-pilot Berger had to severely swerve the craft around a type of tower.  They almost flew right into a tall, thin mystery that did not fit among the thick vegetation.  The flying pod descended and smoothly landed.  Captain and crew turned to view what looked like a huge, marvelous, Mayan / Toltec stele or stone monolith.

     ‘Wow, how impressive; appears wonderfully alien and tribal…yet, strangely familiar,’ Meg said with a slow, enchanted accent.

     The amazing work of stone was not created by primitives.  The two men and woman were next to it now and touched it.  They sensed no danger or heard a sound or felt the slightest vibrations from it.  The 240-foot high and 40-foot wide stone-tower appeared DEAD as if from some long, gone age.  A possible ‘god-image’ or face was carved into the top portion.  It reminded the crew of an Easter Island statue only this one really maintained the form of a gigantic pole.

     ‘Our simple compass tells us it’s magnetic,’ Jason revealed.  ‘But, that is the only connection to the magnetic giant we were supposed to land on; safely, without a hitch.  Look around, captain.  Does this LOOK like what you thought Magnus would be?  The ground is fertile soil, not magnetite.’

     ‘It’s a BIG planet.  I grant you…blue skies; green vegetation; monkeys; lizards; snakes; jungle cats with only a few unknown creatures…makes me wonder.’

     Meg Ramsey added, ‘and now THIS.  What could the stone pillar’s purpose be?’

     ‘Maybe the natives need to phone home?’ Jason joked.

     ‘C’mon.’  The captain headed for the parked craft and the others followed.  Soon after the bubble was sealed, they took off in search of answers. 

     The ‘Hawks’ continued in the same direction.  Hours later, it was the same results.  Always green jungles under blue skies…until…  More blue appeared in the far distance.  There was water; a blue ocean!  The flying pod zoomed to the shore and found one more of those mysterious stone totems.  This one was very slightly leaning 240 feet out of sand and about 500 feet from shore.  They parked the pod.

     The white-dwarf sun was extremely low in the sky.  Night approached.  Captain and crew of two had an eventful second day on the new world.  What will happen on Day 3 or even this evening?  Each stared into the fading sun not sure of anything.

     ‘Did we go through time?’ the captain tossed out in the air.  ‘We reached amazing speeds; it…was possible.  Who knows magnetism?’

     Jason asked, ‘you saying this is very early Magnus…or very future Magnus?’

     ‘I’m saying…we don’t have our answers yet and have to look around more.  Wonder if the K’bral will rescue us?’

     ‘HA!  We could be a billion light-years from the K’bral.’

     ‘Boys, there’s something else…’



     ‘I’m not the least bit tired,’ Meg said raring to go for more action.

     ‘Neither am I.’

     She went on, ‘well, we SHOULD be.  No one slept last night; that’s understandable.  No one’s slept since long before the crash; think about it.’

     ‘You’re right, Meg,’ stated the captain.  He turned toward Jason.  ‘That’s one for it being Magnus.’

     ‘How’d ya mean, captain?’ asked Jason Berger.

     Their leader replied.  ‘Maybe it’s the magnetism that’s giving us energy?  Maybe everything around us is using it as an energy source more than the dim sun and who knows if it rains?  …Or, maybe we’re just plain DEAD?’

     With that morbid thought voiced in the air, so were other sounds; strange, distant tribal-drumming appeared to emanate from a large valley not far from the distant shore.  It did not take long before the adventurers knew what they had to do.

     ‘I don’t believe this,’ exclaimed the captain.

     ‘Oh, we HAVE to check it out,’ Jason said with excitement.  They ran to the flying pod and were off to investigate the faint sounds.

     In no time, the hovercraft silently eased close to the drumming.  Trees and vines hid the pod and passengers.

     In a massive clearing, with another pillar in the foreground, there were rows of a thousand dark-skinned natives pounding a mighty rhythm.  Females danced to rhythms created by males.  A shoreline in the background hammered a complimentary harmony in the darkness.  Slight and high, luminous clouds were the only light source over the odd scene.  Were the natives chanting to their gods?  Were they calling Kong?  None of this was how it was supposed to go down.

     Captain Thomas, Berger and Ramsey exited the small hovercraft.  Meg used the bino-scope to see through the veil of darkness and get a close look at the drummers and dancers.  Her mouth dropped; her body language got the attention of the men.  In a minute, the captain walked over to her.  He closed her mouth by lifting her chin.

     ‘Give me that,’ he commanded in a joking manner as he grabbed the one working bino-scope they had between them.

     He saw, in green, exact/close details of what Meg witnessed.  His mouth also dropped.  ‘I don’t believe it.  My GOD…the girls…’

     Jason felt left out and did what normally he would never do.  He snatched the scope out of the captain’s hands and peeked at the tribal people.  He laughed as they all joined in.  ‘Hey, they’re not wearing clothes, ha!  So…THAT’S what you were staring at, Meggy?  Ha, ha.  My God, look at that…augh!’

     ‘But, wait a minute…THEY didn’t build the monoliths’ Meg stated.  ‘You said when we first encountered it that nobody primitive made it.’

     The captain chimed in with, ‘that’s right.  They’re too colossal.  One, solid ROCK intricately carved that high; who knows how many of them are on the island?’

     ‘You mean…continent, don’t you, captain?’

     ‘Not necessarily.  What seems like a massive continent to us could only be an average-sized island…to the Magnusians, that is.’

     ‘Still think this is where we’re supposed to be?’ Jason asked.

     A thousand drums intensified their rhythmic sounds.  Industrial drumming of so many tree trunks crawled under the crew’s skin.

     Captain Thomas answered his navigator.  ‘We may not be where we’re supposed to be on the planet, but I contend…this is Magnus.  Look how big it is.’

     Eyes locked onto Meg’s eyes.  She responded with, ‘have to admit, Cap, not a lick of technology to be seen outside of the pillars.  Storehouse of Knowledge, sir?  Were we lied to?’

     ‘We also haven’t seen a lick of machines…do the natives have boats; gardens?  Do they even have houses, huts?  I still say…it’s a big planet and we have only seen a drop in the ocean.’

     Jason added, ‘hey, we haven’t seen a lick of CLOTHING either!’

     ‘Ha, ha!’ she laughed loudly.

     ‘Sssssh.’  Captain Thomas tried to quiet them.  ‘I thought I heard a sound…’

     Suddenly, a volley of darts struck the captain and crew!  The Hawks dropped like flies.

* * *

     Three Earthlings awoke and found themselves in hot soup.  They were literally in their own hot water ready to be boiled to death.  Each was naked and tied with vines they could not break through.  Each was mostly submerged in boiling, natural, hot springs.  The astronauts had only minutes before succumbing to intense heat.

     Dozens of dark-skinned, nude females danced as if they were possessed by demons around hot pool of water.  The drumming on tree trunks was at an all time high level of loudness. 

     The dying crew saw an unimaginable sight.  Naked primitives in the thousands without anything at all were caught up in a religious frenzy to raise the devil!  Loud chants with drum rhythms beat a repetitive, deadly chorus.  Before the Earthlings passed out, they viewed the 240-foot monolith with an idol-face LIGHT UP!  Lightning out of nowhere struck the charged, electro-magnetic pole again and again as the incredible crowd appeared to near climax.

     A distant pillar on the shoreline, very far away, also illuminated in sync with the bright one in the foreground.

     The captain tried to communicate with a dancer near the pool.  He thought he heard her say, without moving her lips:  you get this for stealing our people. 

     Thousands of people, at one time, collapsed and fell to the ground.  There was a grand, electrical finale in the sky that centered on the monolith.  James, Jason and Meg blacked out and will soon be dead.  The captain’s last thoughts were, ‘is that a ship above?’

* * *

     The Hawks, especially chosen by Earth forces, were saved by the K’bral.  The aliens finally located the three of First Contact.  They were rescued by the Magnusians precisely as Captain Thomas had hoped.  A few more minutes and extremely hot springs would have cooked them.

     Thomas, Berger and correspondent Ramsey opened their eyes at almost the same moment.  Each sat in ultimate, healing-comfort and magnificence as each occupied what was called a ‘sarcopha-chair.’  They were 97% healed and now experienced a pleasure-phase.



     The room was one of many, many royal halls with ceilings a few hundred feet high held up by massive columns in very bright colors.  A ‘cobra-person’ sat across from the three visitors in his own sarcopha-chair.  Other Magnusians, with various duties, attended to different sections in the titanic-sized enclosure.

     The captain smiled along with the others as he looked over to his sitting crew in contentment.  He asked the K’bral representative directly across from him, ‘are you…King…and is this your castle?’

     The K’bral hid his version of laughing.  He scratched his head with one arm and put away unfathomable tech in front of him with his other three arms.  Another 8-foot Magnusian with side panels around his head like a cobra walked over to the sitting one.  The ‘King’ pressed a chip the other held, which was similar to a signature the captain imagined.  Now, personal business was concluded and the ‘magistrate’ could attend to the recovering visitors.

     Meg and Jason continued to ‘oooh’ and ‘aaah.’

     The psychic magistrate answered without moving his lips, ‘no, I am actually a low-level official and this is an average room.’

     ‘My God.’

     ‘I must thoroughly apologize for your experience.  This really has not happened before.  We localized the problem…’ were more thoughts clearly heard by the Hawks.

     Meg spoke up and asked, ‘what caused the crash…for everything to go haywire?’                                       

      The K’bral from Magnus explained without words, ‘a flare in your nuclear reactor caused a computer glitch.  We asked if you had 100% computer access for our filter-process to work, but after the flare…a crinkle in the magnetic fabric or ‘gravity wave’ meant for that nanosecond, you did not have your computers running…and that was our prerequisite.’

     ‘Lousy computers; it WAS our fault.’  She winked at Jason.

     Jason Berger felt amazing and was very happy to be alive.  Maybe aliens weren’t so bad.  He sincerely told the magistrate, ‘thank you for saving our lives.’

     The Magnusian smiled a cobra-smile and telepathically stated, ‘questions; you must have questions.  Must have had a horrible ordeal in the game preserve.’

     ‘Game preserve?’  Captain Thomas was stunned.  ‘Who were the tribe-people?  They’re…they’re your animals?’

     ‘Certainly not,’ thought the magistrate.  ‘Their star went nova and we rescued them.  We set up a game preserve with similar conditions of their home world.  Once in awhile, we capture a few; test them for their own good and then release them back into the wild.’

     ‘Now I understand what I thought one of the girls…say?’


     ‘Never mind,’ replied the captain.  ‘But, why attack us?’

     ‘I am sure they resent any form of tech.  They thought you were us and attacked you because of us.  Strange…they pray to the poles.’

     Meg asked the K’bral in charge, ‘but, it seemed like they brought on the electrical storm; when the pillars LIT UP with power?’

     ‘No, no, they respond in tribal ritual to the dampeners’ cycle; every 14 of your hours.’


     ‘The monoliths nullify much of the magnetism.  High levels would kill them, but the right amount sustains them without the need for food; crops…even housing.  They survive…and, thrive with a lot of energy.’

     The captain slowly realized, ‘so…the rest of your planet is nothing like the island?’

     ‘Nothing,’ the K’bral thought with a smile on his big, yellow face.

     ‘Now, what?’ 

     ‘Now, we see the rest of Magnus.  It is a big planet.  You cannot see all of it, but I will guide you to selective parts I know you will enjoy.  By the way…you did bring your LIBRARY CARD, didn’t you?’



Introduction to Excerpt from the “not-for-children “manuscript ‘MEAD’

The following excerpt from the highly not-for-children manuscript was fun to write although it could never be published.  MEAD is filled with so many copyrighted names from movies and TV; characters not of my creation, yet part of the ‘public domain’ and entrenched in our psyche.  Numerous themes posed in my other writings/stories appear in this interesting little section of MEAD.  ‘MEAD’ means ‘dead.’  The story involves a projected afterlife like a holographic, virtual reality.  We begin with the madness of loneliness, trapped inside a space capsule…

This is available only as part of PDF with other short stories
.6MB :: 45 pages with images :: formatted by Doug Yurchey )

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Tales from the Parallel

by Yurchey, Doug-73
[transcribed into English]

     Two thousand ans ago was the time of the Veck.  The Veck was thought to be the ‘Child of the Supreme Mag.’  Such beliefs of faith were supported by historical records and remain the firm foundation for so many on present-day Dearth. 

     The return of the Veck in physical (human) form had long been prophesized; especially in the most sacred of books, The Testament.  Meanings of 2000-an old stories have been debated down through the ages by large numbers of Testament scholars.

     Then, it happened in sophisticated society.  The entire Dearth saw and heard the long-awaited, glorious news.  The Veck had returned!  Ancient prophesy came true.  His name was Samuel.  He was an ordinary man suddenly thrust onto the world’s stage.

     From every outlet of modern media on the planet came the announcement.  The good news could not have been clearer.  The Veck, in today’s culture, was discovered!  Only known as ‘Brother Samuel,’ the pious/young man in a shiny suit stepped forth from the shadows and ruled what was considered the world.  He passed every test of the Kirk.  Samuel was an instant, media sensation.

     Samuel was clean-shaven and appeared in modern clothes or the ‘clothes of the times’ exactly how Kirk records predicted.  He materialized on the scene, virtually overnight, with his message of LOVE on the exact day of his foretold ‘Second Coming.’  Mag now walked among us and the entire planet rejoiced.

     The special, glowing, man in the shiny suit preached of a coming POWER that will change the world for the greater good.  Peace, lasting PEACE, was at hand.  People, on a global scale, believed this man called Samuel.  They were desperate to follow him.

     For three ans, Brother Samuel took control of the planet by unifying various sector governments who were at war.  Almost by magic, armies laid down their weapons.  Crimes drastically decreased in the ans of the Veck.  Guns were melted en mass.  Peace broke out between sectors that had been at each others’ throats seemingly forever.  Basically, hardly anyone fought in the presence or in the times of the Veck.  The Kirk seized control of sector governments and unified them under a parent company.

     Samuel’s appeal was intoxicating; his words were silk.  He provided precisely what people needed in modern society: an end to many ans of constant struggle, wars and death.  They needed hope and a secure tomorrow.  The whole planet believed their Veck had arrived and a ‘New Dawn’ approached.  According to legends and ancient Kirk records, the Veck would return when times were the darkest to usher in a wonderful future or ‘New Age of Peace.’

     The movement toward ‘love and peace’ was contagious.  The world cheered and eagerly accepted this special ‘man.’  Brother Samuel was viewed with a faint glow around him.  People were sure that they truly were close to the divine Mag.

     Almost everyone rejoiced; there were always the malcontents, the radical revolutionaries and the fanatical anarchists.  Counter-groups always come into prominence simply to oppose any persuasive movement.  A particular malcontented terrorist was one of those scholars with a very ‘twisted’ view of Testament scriptures.  His name was Markus.

     As fate would have it, Markus had the same face as Samuel.  When the Veck first appeared over media, Markus had a violent reaction.  Few priests, who knew the hermit at the time, thought Markus was the New Veck until the radical corrected them.  After he left the Kirk, Markus was compelled to grow a beard and wear near rags to oppose his doppelganger’s very successful appearance.

     For three ans, Markus (once a high-ranking priest) plotted the ultimate terror-act.  He planned to kill his double.  He dreamed of killing the Veck.  His intentions led to one thing only; he would personally destroy Mag on Dearth.  There were obstacles in his way.

     The ‘glow’ or ‘aura’ people perceived surrounding Samuel was not only a halo.  Insane, publicity-seekers have tried to shoot the Veck.  Believe it or not, bullets could not penetrate the light.  The glow seemed to function as a body-force-field. 

     Samuel explained that he actually was very mortal and could be ‘caught with his shields down.’  However, the attacks or repulsion of attacks only furthered the idea of Samuel’s divinity.  Offensives from anti-Veck groups hardly occurred anymore.  Guards around Samuel were discharged.  The Veck claimed his new throne in Capital City as the world honored this mild-mannered man; this bringer of Peace and stand-in for Mag.

     Markus was a tormented soul.  To know what he knew!  He was a man of logic and commitment.  To the anti-Veck, in the image of the Veck, his path was the only path to pursue.  He knew what had to be done…and WHY.

     But, how could he kill a man with a personal force-field?  The tortured spirit asked the stars.  When he did, he usually heard the answer in his head.  The voice told him, do not worry about the light; merely touch him and you will destroy him.  This must be done.

     Markus believed the female voice in his head exactly as he believed the spirit that moved him during his priesthood training.  He was not wrong.  He would show the world that he was right and expose their hero for what he truly was.  All he needed to do was TOUCH Samuel.  Without guards, there was a chance it was possible.  Markus believed that his hands could do what no bullets proved to do.

     The date was Gen-17, 529 in the an of our Veck.  Samuel had just turned 33 ans of age and the world celebrated his birthday with ultra-jubilation.  Capital City spared no expense.  Everyone turned out for the colorful festivities.  Huge crowds gathered as Samuel would greet the public to express his appreciation for the world tribute.

     Soon after Samuel was introduced and throngs of fans poured out their hearts to him…a madman ran up on stage and choked the life out of the Veck!  Samuel was dead.  Mag on Dearth was no more.

     People did not understand what they viewed over media.  To go from global exultation to the fact that the representative of Mag was now dead…could not be comprehended.  ‘Mad Marco’ was apprehended.  His face was covered as he was violently escorted inside nearby facilities.

     How could the Veck have been destroyed?  Why?  How could the Universe or the Supreme Mag have permitted it to happen?  Utter chaos occurred in the aftermath; outrage; blind rage and violence with people screaming for the blood of Mad Marco!  


29th floor:  You learn the truth that wars; disasters; diseases; poverty; hunger; violations of human rights; oppressed people; no jobs; etc…ARE SUPPORTED BY THOSE IN CHARGE!  So-called ‘natural’ disasters; famines; floods; dearthquakes are created to depopulate the masses ON PURPOSE in order to control many millions on the planet.  Such atrocities must happen so the pendulum swings the other way ‘toward a new hope.’  The Davro is alive and well.

30th floor:  You learn of the coming of the Veck in such violent and crazy days.  You learn how we need a Veck to return…and as prophesized, the planet Dearth will have a Veck.  The Testament scriptures will ring true and amaze the world.

31st floor:  You learn or see more of the secret Kirk Agenda where a ‘new POWER’ will be unleashed on Dearth that will create a utopia in the ans to come.  The Veck will be behind this ‘Force for good’ and be given all credit for its creation and institution.

32nd floor:  You learn of the coming age of peace without wars and conflict that the Veck will preside over on Dearth.  Weapons; armies; navies and air forces will be abandoned and unnecessary in the New Age of Peace.  You learn of the greatness and glory of the Mag through its stand-in representative, the Veck.  How everything is possible by believing in Fate and ‘Universal Will.’

33rd floor:  You learn the truth of a defenseless planet that will be horribly destroyed in order to renew or start a cycle over again; new life from total destruction; that all roads lead to the final conflagration.  This was the ultimate purpose of the Veck and the truth is…the beloved Samuel is really the anti-Veck.  You learn the Veck is not the Veck; merely a manipulated tool to control the planet in the way that it must be controlled.  In fact, Samuel is the Davro! Everything must be as has been preordained; steps that must be walked over and over in a loop without question and for the greater good.  The secret POWER for peace is an ‘Atomic’ (?) that will be used to destroy modern society, not save it.  (There was no prophecy; only Agenda.  Truths in The Testament are not what we are taught).   

     The rich Arch Priest dressed in a splendid, scarlet suit was not amused or impressed with the antics of his favorite priest as he sat in the rotunda.  Markus also sat after being called into the special, ornate room with a very high domed-ceiling.  Religious symbols of Kirk Authority stood in every direction from floor to dome.

     Markus was nervous, yet confidently brave under his appropriate vest without the jacket.  He knew exactly why he was summoned to appear before his ‘boss.’  After only one day on the 33rd floor, Markus posted for the entire conclave of priests (no matter what floor they had achieved) to view THE NOTE.

     It was only a slip of paper posted in the antechamber entry that anyone in the priesthood could view as they calmly entered the prime rotunda.  Markus had, in a sense, cheated or revealed secrets before he should.  Now, he had to pay the price for his careless recklessness.

     ‘You wrote that?’ the Arch Priest asked with a tone of deep disappointment.

     ‘Yes, Arch Priest…and posted it in the antechamber…to be read, of course…yes, for all to see.’

     ‘Why in Mag’s name would you DO that?  Do you not understand the concept of secrets and WHY we send our initiates up floor after floor to slowly learn what the world can never know?’

     ‘Ah…that’s a good one…’

     ‘What?!’ the boss in a fancy, red suit yelled.

     ‘Arch Priest, is not the truth the truth?  It is for ALL, not just priests.’

     ‘We will LOSE the initiates your way!  But, not in the way the Kirk has set up the Order.’  The high Priest saw that Markus was sincerely interested and wanted to understand.

     ‘Please explain, sir.’

     ‘Priests move up slowly to digest as much as they can on every individual floor…each floor is established so you learn the next piece to a complicated and well-meant Agenda.’

     A puzzled expression remained on Markus’ face.

     The high Priest continued in plain and simple language.  ‘They won’t believe it!  It must have FOUNDATION or it is not consumed; believed or have any real effect.’

     ‘Yes.  I did not have too much difficulty with believing…even concerning the aliens…until I reached the 29th floor…then…’

     ‘We give the priests new information; more parts to the enigma until they can SLOWLY see the whole picture for themselves…what we’re trying to do here.  We’re trying to be…believable.’

     ‘Sir!’  Now Markus became upset.  ‘But, if what I learned yesterday is true…from the 33rd floor…then, the Veck is a fraud; a puppet; a creation of the Kirk and has little to do with the Supreme Mag?’

     ‘We each have our roles in the play.  Are you so sure?’

     ‘What?  How can you ask that?  One jer (month) we learn the Veck is MAG and the next jer we learn he is not.  One jer we discover an awesome POWER we believe will bring light and love to the world…and then in the next jer, will find it shall be used to annihilate life on the planet?’

     ‘All according to understanding by our program…you cannot understand what is in front of you until you reach the next level.  The information appears contradictory…BUT, only on that floor.  It is only fully comprehended when you reach the next floor containing an even higher truth.  Each pell (domino) is set up to fall against the next pell for a cause-and-effect.

     ‘Brainwashing?’ Markus asked with a word he created.

     ‘What?  I asked you; are you so sure?’


     The Arch Priest raised his arms; stood up and said with authority, ‘everything!  How do you know for certain?  An even HIGHER floor of understanding could exist beyond 33?!  Obviously, 33 wouldn’t make any kind of sense…until you achieve an even greater level, yes?’

     The new 33rd level priest asked, ‘do you know what the ultimate Floor is, Arch Priest?  What is the final truth?’

     The old, clean, successful man in a red business (power) suit only smiled.  ‘I…I have not…attained…been on that floor yet.’

     ‘Sir, the conclave only has 33 floors.’ 

     The high Priest smiled, but was worried.  He did not want to lose his favorite initiate.  Possibly, he had the answer.

     ‘What will happen to me?’ Markus asked for a judgment.

     The Arch Priest responded with what he had decided from the very beginning.  ‘You will do community service for 12 jers and we will dismiss the class you have contaminated.’


     ‘The priests will be debriefed and let go…thanks to you.’  The Arch Priest did not want it this way, but the decision was what he had to do.

     Markus shoved his thumb into his chest against the shiny vest.  ‘Because of ME?!  They lost their careers, ans of training?’

     The old Priest looked directly into the eyes of his favorite.  ‘Yes…because of you.’

     The new 33rd-level priest was not dismissed from the Kirk or the rotunda.  Markus got up and walked a very long walk out of the building.  He never returned.  The old man never saw the younger man again…until, three ans later.

     Markus began a lonely hermit’s life ‘off the grid’ and a man in hiding.  He learned to keep the truth to himself and stay away from people; people who could never believe what he felt in his heart and knew to be facts.

     The next day was THE DAY in modern history of the human race.  Samuel was announced as THE ONE; the one millions of Dearthlings had been waiting for to bring them out of hard times and into salvation; thank Mag!


     In Markus’ hole he called a home; the man had a small following.  He allowed one disciple or apprentice to visit.  His name was Bella.  Bella was as poverty-stricken as the former priest who appeared nothing like he did one an ago. 

     Markus had significant facial hair.  Gone were the colorful, fine suits of priesthood.  The man was no longer groomed for silver success.  He wore a simple, white robe.  Gone were the vehicles, the women and the social life.  Large incomes Markus earned as an initiate were spent long ago.  Nothing came in and savings from the Kirk were nearly depleted.

     Bella enjoyed the rants of his ex-priest friend.  He was always willing to listen to what Markus had to say.  Studying The Testament was a usual topic of conversation.  Bella allowed Markus to ‘teach’ him anything from scriptures.  Markus’ modern slant on the ancient Book’s stories fascinated the poor visitor.  They sat down.

     After tea was made and poured in chipped cups, Bella spoke.  ‘The resemblance is truly overwhelming…remarkable.  I would think you could use your famous face, you know?  Parlay it over media; at least the Stream?  Cut your hair; shave; wear better clothes, suits and you could take advantage of those looks of yours, my friend.’ 

     ‘Ha, now WHY would I want to do that?  I’m hiding from the fact I look like ‘m.’

     Bella asked quickly, ‘I thought it was because of what you know?’

     ‘That, too.’  Markus winked and took another sip.  ‘What were we discussing last time?’

     ‘OH!  I didn’t believe your explanation of the Great Fire.  About the first thing recorded history tells us is…’

     ‘Yes…the Great Fire.  What’s the myth?  I mean the common belief; what everyone thinks is true, almost everyone?’ asked Markus.

     ‘That Mag HAD to set the world’s oil fields ablaze and choke a million people to death at the dawn of history…’

     Markus continued Bella’s thoughts of what was considered accepted history.  ‘A natural disaster caused a total loss of crops which nearly killed off first life on Dearth.  The few that survived the hardships came back stronger…and people flourished once more.  Mag promised to never destroy the planet by fire again.  But, that’s not what really happened.’

     ‘This was in the holy archives, you said…which…which you saw with your own eyes?’

     ‘Yes, Bel…and much, much more.  The truth is, back then, leaders decided to cover-up history; eliminate the truth so great numbers of the population would never know about the past.’

     ‘Hard to believe.’

     ‘Incredible files; information; records and technology were destroyed in legendary fires.  The planet was far from ‘consumed in flames,’ yet the important libraries were all destroyed; history was rewritten, later.  The Kirk was established to…keep secrets from us and never to approach a bit of what is real, honest and true.  Not for common people, anyway.  True facts were only for high-ranking initiates and Arch Priests; only found buried on conclave floors with the highest altitude and highest number.’

     ‘Markus, can you specifically tell me what was going on in the distant past?  It’s like what you said before; MODERN science and technology a long, long time ago?  If true, why keep it a secret?’

     ‘That accepted history is very, very wrong?  Admit we’ve been taught silliness and ignorance and misinformation?  That schools are not close to reality?  From what lame knowledge we pass on in public schools to absolute lies on the Stream…they cannot reveal NOW that NOTHING WE ARE TAUGHT IS TRUE.’

     ‘Nothing?  You are saying…too many lies to explain?’

     ‘Yes, Bel…so there were never any lies in the first place, right?’


     Markus went on with, ‘another aspect…is WAR!  How much there was of it in the past; how awesome it was; how massive the destruction was!  Why so unmentioned in our schools?  Prehistoric wars created the deserts.  Also, we built slaves and armies; it’s in the holy records.  Science even constructed monsters.’

     Bella interrupted and asked, ‘you mean…machines; fantasy’s auto…er, ROBOTS?  Is that right, Markus?’

     ‘No Bel, something far worse than machines.  BIO-machines…’

     ‘What’s that?’

     ‘Scientists could…could…’ Markus wondered if he would be believed and then just laughed.  ‘Ha, I don’t care what you think…’

     ‘Might believe you,’ Bella said with a wide open expression.

     ‘OK, OK, sure, ha…our ancestors could make people…MAKE people, or I should say…COPY THEM.  Believe me, initiate?’

     Now it was time for Bella to laugh; to be called a priest, especially in the dirty rags he wore.  ‘Ha…sure, why not?  Love your Testament stories; never ‘eard anyone preach that perspective before, ha.’

     ‘People once had the power of Mag.  Technology was called ‘forbidden fruit’ in The Testament.  The Kirk does not want you to know you have the power of Mag inside you; so much to conceal.  You see, you wouldn’t need the Kirk anymore…if you knew the truth.  Alright, pick an old story.  I’ll tell you what I know of it.’

     ‘Can I pick…two?’

     The lonely friends of poverty laughed again.  Markus was not poor or lacking in wisdom.  The hermit was a rich man IN KNOWLEDGE.  Markus believed in his research; in what he discovered over the ans in the Kirk and in what he refused to not see. 

     Bella obliged his mentor who had ans of experience and volumes of inside information.  ‘The story of Ott and the cities of Golem and Sinnoria, ah, and…and…alright.  Secondly…ah…the battle for the Fortress of Camino.’ 

     ‘Thought sure you were going to say the Arch of Electra,’ Markus replied with a smile.

     ‘You can throw that in too, sir,’ Bella stated with a whimsical smile and bowed to the honorable ex-priest.

     ‘Don’t think me the Davro, but the ancient cities of Golem and Sinnoria were not destroyed because Mag judged them evil and corrupt…same as with Fort Camino.’

     ‘They weren’t?  The Testament is wrong?’

     ‘Bel…the horrible disasters and mass-killings recorded from prehistory HAPPENED.  They happened in the real world.  They just did not happen the way they tell us.  Very old stories are better explained through Science rather than Mag’s ‘miracles’ or ‘punishment.’  They tell the public a sham, bogus story while they tell the priests a whole different report.  Higher priests in the Order are told even larger secrets that lower ones could not imagine.’

     ‘You mean how an event might happen, but the media only gives us a partial truth?’

     ‘Yes, my friend.  It is justified by simply saying: it’s for our own good that we withhold…whatever.  To The Testament…I often thought the first half refers to extremely extraordinary, historical events…’

     ‘And the second half?’ Bella asked and finished his tea.

     ‘Largely, unholy additions and subtractions; editing by unholy men; murderers in suits…the laws laid out for men…’

     ‘By Mag?!’

     ‘Ah, no,’ Markus corrected his apprentice/disciple.  ‘Mag is not in The Testament.’

     ‘Huh?!  I never ‘eard you say THAT before.  Mag is not in the Book? Mag is speaking; it is the Word of Mag!’

     ‘How could it be MAG?  Fire; intense heat completely destroyed two large cities in a flash and a million people before that!  Killing with swords in the name of Mag?  Would a Mag of Love do that?’

     ‘Yeah, but they deserved it,’ Bella defended the actions of the Testament Mag.

     ‘Thousands of children; thousands of women; the young and the very old…babies who haven’t begun to live their lives yet were burnt to a crisp…and they…the very innocent DESERVED to be fried?’

     ‘OK…the real story?’

     Markus did not hesitate in answering.  ‘The first Great Fire not only wiped out prehistoric knowledge but also the bio-monsters made by the Masters of Science at the time.  Later, Golem and Sinnoria were victims of aerial WARGAMES between remnants of earlier technology.  The pilots were still fighting…with ancient aircraft.  Not Mag’s vengeance…killer-technology used during war.’

     ‘Markus…what technology?  What technology could totally destroy two very large cities?  It HAD to be the power of Mag.’

     ‘No, my friend.  This involves the Kirk’s true Agenda.’

     ‘What are you talking about?  We were talking about the greatly debated destruction of the Testament cities…not the Kirk.’

     Markus tied the two together with, ‘you don’t understand.  This new POWER that…Samuel is championing or forcing down our throats…the…the great, ah ‘Instrument of Peace’ you’ve heard him rabble on about?’

     ‘Yes…the one they’re going to adopt because of its potential for peace, yes?’

     ‘No, no, dear Bel…it’s the same as what destroyed the ancient cities.  It is a Doomsday Weapon of our own making!  It is a BOMB like we have never seen before.  Ancient records describe horrors of living under the incredible threat of something called ‘atomics.’  One blast could equal a million deaths!  Strange burns and disfigurements of people and animals afterward…it’s what’s going to happen to us…NOW, if Samuel has his way!  He has to be stopped.  It is ancient terrors all over again.’

     ‘Samuel…is…the Veck.’

     ‘Is he?’ Markus questioned with the bearded face of the Veck.  ‘Alright…Camino…here’s what happened.’

     ‘I read archeologists really discovered the location of Camino, buried…buried somewhere in the equator desert.’

     Markus once again finished what Bella began.  ‘The fortress had monoliths in the hundreds of sils; massive!  NOTHING like what we can build today…ah, on the order of the 23 Wonders of the World.  One section of stonework was gone; about 7/8s were reasonably intact.  What disintegrated 1/8 of titanic building blocks?’ 

     ‘Tell me.’

     ‘Your Arch of Electra.’

     ‘I didn’t know that,’ Bella confessed.  Where did you get that nugget of info?  Oh, the archives…’

     ‘No…The Testament.  Most people in the Kirk do not actually read The Testament; they merely pass on myths, misinterpretations or arguable morals of the stories.  The Book says the Arch was indeed pressed right up against the huge fortress blocks.  It blew down the walls with electrical power or a super wall of force.’

     ‘Not the power of Mag?  But, I thought the Arch contained or was a container for the power of Mag?’

     ‘No, dear friend.  It was a DEVICE…a bit of that Forbidden Technology; a weapon…a big gun…and whoever had the biggest gun…was Mag.  They won wars with it.  Your piece of Mag was a very deadly WEAPON.’

     ‘Blasphemy,’ said Bella with subtle emotion.  ‘You’ve taken Mag OUT of The Testament.’

     ‘This was not why I had to leave the Order.   It was in the priesthood where I learned the truth; exactly what I am relaying to you now.  I just cannot tell secrets to you without straining credibility and…and…maybe our friendship?’

     ‘Never,’ said the faithful disciple of poverty row warmly.

     ‘Also good people inside the Camino Fortress like the two cities burnt to a crisp.  Women and children; everyone inside the fortress were slaughtered by the ‘edge of the sword.’  The good people were defenseless after the great walls fell.’  Markus finished his tea.

     ‘But…your invaders who ‘tumbled down’ the walls of Camino had the Arch of MAG!  Mag had to be on their side, yes?’

     ‘No; this was long after the time of its builder.  It was a DEVICE of electrical warfare…brought into ancient battles and repelled many enemies in the equator desert.  Madmen seized the Arch of Electra much later; stole it.  It was misused like any means of POWER in the hands of primitives.  These were not enlightened people acting as Mag’s instrument of revenge.  They were insane killers drunk on the power the dangerous Arch provided.  Many of them were electrocuted in victorious celebration after the slaughter.’

     ‘Wow.  I…I guess…I guess I didn’t realize Mag was such a mass-murderer…in recorded history.’

     ‘I could go on about flying disks and fantastic war-weapons of the air, reported in The Testament…clear as crystal with rockets (‘column’) of SMOKE by day and (‘pillar’) thruster FIRE by night.’ 

     ‘Did you ever mention the Janus story, where he was swallowed by a ‘large fish’ and lived for three days?’

     ‘It wasn’t a large fish, of course.  I was sure you were getting it by now, Bel.  What could hold a person for days under the water?’

     ‘Ah…a boat, ship?’

     ‘Janus was taken aboard a submarine.  Long ago, they could not use our modern words…which did not exist at the time of the writings.  If they wrote early history in modern terms, the mysterious cloud of ‘miracles’ would evaporate and we could understand what really happened as modern people.’  Suddenly, Markus had a dizzy spell as he stood up too quickly.  ‘Ah.’

     ‘Hey, you OK?’ Bella asked with a worried look on his face.

     ‘I don’t know.’  Markus felt sick and shaky.  He received an awful head rush with a visual twist of vertigo.  ‘I…I…’

     ‘Easy, Mark…sit back down.  Take it easy.’  Bella edged closer.

     ‘Maybe I should concentrate on something?’  His breathing was heavy.  The ex-priest covered his face with his right hand.  There was a very slight quiver to his left hand.

     ‘Ah…another story, ah…Markus!’ Bella shouted as he bent over his mentor.

     ‘Yes…’  Markus collected himself into a statue-like, sitting pose and said a few last words.   ‘…w-woman made from m-man…not done by Mag.  It…it…was a b-bio-operation from s-s-scien-tists…took cell from man and…and c-copied, changed……no Mag…’ 

     Bella dropped the pretense now that he perceived Markus slowly changing into a frozen state.  Markus was nearly catatonic.  Bella’s real name was Jella.  Like Markus, he had a different face one an ago.  He was a member of the priesthood class that was dismissed because of the actions of one particular priest.  This priest did not have a beard and he wore beautiful clothes.  The priest chose to place A NOTE in the conclave’s entry or antechamber of the prime rotunda.  Thirty-two, bright, young and successful initiates were let go from the priesthood because of HIM!

     The sad irony was that Jella never viewed the note in question.  He was never informed by fellow priests of its content regarding the 33rd floor.  After ans and ans of study and steadily climbing the success-ladder of the Kirk, Jella was more than a little upset with Brother Markus. 

     Jella was perfect for the assignment since he had a deep-rooted hatred for the bearded Samuel.  He was ordered to keep tabs on the Kirk’s rebellious ex-priest.  Jella was Markus’ secret ‘handler’ and regularly reported to Kirk officials.  There was no avoiding Fate.  The Testament questions to Markus had nothing to do with curiosity since Jella experienced up to the 32nd floor.  Questions to Markus over the last seven jers of the assignment were designed to answer one question only:  How dangerous was Markus to the Veck and the Agenda?

     ‘Rigor mortis should be kicking in soon, my old friend.  Last seven jers seemed like an eternity; last time I take an assignment in poverty row for this long.  Could I get assigned to a castle or a palace?  No, sir.  OH…by the way…Markus…’

     The former priest moved his eyeballs while the rest of his head remained still.

     ‘That was demagol in your tea.  You didn’t see me put the pill in your cup.  You have about two idis before you check out of this world.  You are probably wondering why…dear friend.’

     Markus’ eyes spied Jella pull out an old photo from his torn jacket. 

     He asked with passion, ‘remember this face…and his name was Jella…Jella?  I was in the class right behind you, brother.  You think I didn’t know what you’ve been telling me the whole time?’

     Markus’ eyes met Jella’s eyes.  He recognized him.

     ‘Why?  Certainly, lack of fame and fortune ‘off the grid’ were preventing you from making waves.  We were surprised you did not go to the Stream or other media outlets with your…ah… MESSAGE…your truths?  As long as you stayed…contained/quiet and restricted here, then there was no problem.  But, you have revealed a plot to kill our Veck.  Do you hear me?  You won’t be allowed to do that, sir.  Can you hear me now, old friend?’

     Markus’ eyes slowly closed.  Was he near death?  Jella continued to talk to himself.

     ‘My masters in the Kirk tell me…it’s true.  It’s really true.  For some odd reason, you WILL be able to penetrate his light.  The clairvoyant bastards know what’s going to happen.  You ARE going to kill him and derail our plans.  But, instead…the Agenda is on again full steam.  Level 32 will be reached and the future will be a wonderfully glorious thing…now.  I’m glad I had a part…eh?  What’s this?’

     Jella thought he saw the shape of a sleek dagger under Markus’ white robe the closer he looked.  His hand went in and plucked out a light, silver shiv that was very sharp.  Jella admired the shiny, surgical instrument as he stood over Markus.

     Without warning, MARKUS JUMPED UP and shoved the shiv just under the chin of Jella and partially into the brain of the man who poisoned him!  But, Markus was not poisoned.  An ordinary man would have died from such a dose of demagol.  The former priest was obsessed and ran on energy that other men did not utilize.  He was not going to let a small demagol pill stop him so close to his ultimate goal.  NOTHING was going to stop him from killing the accepted stand-in for Mag.  He recovered shortly. 

     Markus cleaned the mess in his ‘hole’ of a home.  Would the result have been different if Jella understood the 33rd floor?  Now, he knew that he COULD kill.  Somehow, he knew of the final devastation called ‘atomics’ that would not ‘decimate’ life on planet Dearth…it will END LIFE on planet Dearth. 

     The voice inside Markus’ head had been right again and again.  This time she said, you can save the world from atomic burning; you can save innocent women and children…all you have to do is touch the anti-Veck.


     The world of humans mourned the passing of the Veck for three straight days.  His light went out as people discovered (in media documentaries) more and more about the man called Samuel.

     To bond the infamous with the famous, the world also heard more and more about the man who destroyed the representative of Mag.  The public was told the deranged man’s name was ‘Marco’ and every outlet presented virtually the same documentary about the little-known madman.  He was a member of a secret society of anarchists called ‘neo-terrorists’ who believe their actions will bring on the END OF DAYS and the literal destruction of the world.

     The famous photos, assassination films and court clips of the assassin appeared nothing like Markus.  Markus was changed to Marco and an invented personage (‘golem’) took the blame for the biggest assassination of all time.  Few people got a good look at the madman who ran on stage in Captial City during the birthday festivities.  Some people reported that he could have been a twin to the Veck; only dressed in robes and having a beard.  Films have been analyzed and excited Conspiracy Theorists on the Stream insist…the assassin; the man they have in custody was not the killer.  The real killer could have been his identical twin.

     But, the most startling thing about the strange DEATH or passing of the Veck was…what happened to Brother Samuel?  Hundreds of cameras were grinding as Samuel spoke at the big event.  Films from dozens of excellent views showed the very same ultra-extraordinary ‘miracle.’ 

     The unguarded Veck ‘with shields down’ disappeared!  Upon first touched by mad Marco, Samuel VANISHED inside his clothes.  His expensive, 3-piece, black suit remained and fluttered to the ground.  He was not in it and has not been seen over the last three days.

     Capital City’s stage was converted into a shrine for the Veck.  People would not stop crying for this man of peace in a shiny Kirk suit.  Vast numbers of followers came here from every sector over the last 99 ders to honor a man they believed had done so much good.

     The outpouring of emotion by millions on every media outlet was relentless.  Not a word from anti-Veck groups were expressed on any media, not even the Stream, during the last few days.  The world continued watching the parade of respectful mourners at the actual place the deadly catastrophe occurred.

     People were 100% convinced in the divinity of the Veck known as Brother Samuel for two reasons:  1) He died unlike every human; he died in a puff of smoke and vaporized to nothingness.  And, 2) the most shocking phenomena of everything mentioned is the fact that Samuel rose from the dead! 

     The Veck had returned!  A sphere of light formed on Capital City’s shrine for Samuel.  The ball of light got brighter and brighter; more intense and more intense until a figure emerged from its center.

     The Veck appeared more handsome and appealing than he ever had before.  The aura (line) around his body was laser-bright and described as ‘brilliant blue.’  He waved to the masses of people and the tears began once more.  Everyone was crying and cheering for their larger-than-life hero in a white suit…the Angel of Peace.

     He was back.  He looked beautiful and powerful.  Everyone felt safe, comfortable and happy.  There was going to be a New Hope.  People of Dearth believed tomorrow will truly become their precious utopia; a wonder world as prophesized.  And a new POWER will come forth and make everything better in the future.

     There was an unknown reality happening in the disconnected mind of the Veck.  The real Brother Samuel went up in magnetic smoke in front of world media because the Veck and anti-Veck cannot co-exist.  Contact by Markus, which constituted an attack, was enough to send the Davro back to hell.

     But, if the real Samuel magnetically disintegrated…who had returned on stage in light three days later?  It was Markus, the twin, in secret custody.  He was clean-shaven and in a very expensive, white suit.  He was a smiling, waving, mindless puppet.  Behind his left ear was the smallest of Kirk implants that controlled every electrical impulse in the VECK. 

     The people had their Veck.  Mag was back to walking the planet.  Most people did away with the ‘Veck’ name entirely and simply called him ‘Mag.’  He would lead them to a protected tomorrow with a new kind of POWER called ‘atomic.’  The Power will wash tomorrow away in clean, white light.  ‘Will human life begin again?’ was the only question.

 The END          



– Blog Articles by Doug Yurchey

– Other articles contributed by Doug Yurchey:

A Message from Doug Yurchey




  1. J.a. says

    Save your selves this is all about a scheme where by you are all confined to your own intellect enforced with reason of substance there is no higher form than expresion of individual choice and mine is ethics and morals so just take a wonder and find out if you can make it back to reality see ya later.

  2. The Shark says

    It was Einstein who said there is something more important than intelligence, and that is imagination. Mr. Yurchey is living proof of this. As one songstress put forth many moons ago, “Only the strong put their heart on the line”. Mr. Yurchey has done this many times and keeps coming back for more. I would advise him to give no thoughts to guns or knives, but to remember the old bit of wisdom, “Their are none so blind as those who will not see”.

  3. Doug Yurchey says

    you cannot have the Truth if you dont read the Bible. What can I say more. God Bless Doug Yurchey

    This is what you said at the end. MY beliefs come from reading the Bible and having the right eyes to understand it. This is not a funny JOKE! You can read the Bible all you want, you will never understand it unless you have modern eyes to see the killer-Tech they encountered, not God.

    This was about my STORIES! Does he respect my wishes? He says God Bless, Doug Yurchey – but he only tortures me and none of you are coming to my defense! You just let this madman rant on – I want to put a gun to my head, but this madman (a person of GOD) keeps turning a knife into me…but, it’s all OK because he keeps saying God Bless at the end. He’ll write back again after this…right? Maybe Starheater should load the gun and pull the trigger? …and then he’ll see how funny this is!

    Would someone please respect my wishes?…PLEASE. Can we stay on topic? The only comments are from a religious nut WHO SPEAKS FOR GOD. Why? Please God let it stop…but no…and the torture for me just continues…

    • Starheater says

      Hello M. Yurchey

      It’s been a long time since I writed to you, and by the way, excuse to if I have contredicted you by not responding at your letter. I have been very busy with Brenda and Charles, I hope that didn’t hurt your feelings.

      Oh, by the way, If I blow my head, I would not have the time to see if it’s funny or not. By the way, can you tell me what is your Astrologic sign, the reason is ; first, this will help me to know the basic your personality, the second reason, is for my statistics. (those statistic are for my book). Thanks

      I dont understand the meaning of the second paragraph, can you explain it to me in other words. And, on what stories you want me to discuss with me?

      I prefer to be a black sheep in front of your eyes, then a Jack the Ripper that you portrait me.

      G.. B…. M. Y……

  4. Doug Yurchey says

    I don’t believe this guy! Any word about my STORIES and how they might relate to my theories? NO! He lives in a dream world – advertising HIS BOOK because he’s such a great writer and thinker in ENGLISH? And he THINKS I would enjoy his writings, brother? Yeah, I am his ‘punching bag’ & he’s my albatross. Does not listen to 1 word I have said…I have said: STOP…STOP…STOP on # of blogs. Does he?…no…he continues to live in a dream world; plaguing ME where he believes I might be a FAN of his?????????!!!!!!!! He has corrupted…I think…every article on W-M with ideas from the Dark Ages! But, everything is wonderful because he says ‘God Bless.’? He has turned W-M into his own personal ‘Christian Science Monitor’ only WITHOUT the Science. I have called him an ‘abomination’ to the real God-force in the Universe…and he writes this crap that I might love his work. In the name of Jesus Christ and everything that is true…STOP. Do not turn my STORIES into your personal PULPIT. I demand that STARHEATER be forever banned from commenting on MY articles…he has not contributed his 2 cents; but 2 billion cents of misunderstanding…ENOUGH! Like Ron Cook wasn’t enough? Now everywhere I turn is this MAN-CHILD. STOP. Anyone else can comment; not him! This one is Fun; Fiction and the Future……..NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR DREAM-WORLD – THIS IS MY DREAM WORLD!!

    • Starheater says

      Hello M. Yurchey
      Ha-ha-ha-ha, you make me laugh, but not of you, but in the manner you treat my, now, dont you think that I’m maso of some kind, the way you treat me is like you were saying,” give me more, I need that stuff “, but I have to make you a “revelation” Doug, I’m an expert in “Mysteries”, no mysteries have been clause for me, I have found them all, do you know why? Because of the science that God gave me, and I’m greatfull to HIM, and that “I can prove it to you” ha-ha-ha-ha “, I’m not laughin’ at you, oh, if you were french, you would applaude for what I have said, hahahaha.

      To tell you the truth, I’m the only man on Earth that as discover the cause of spontanious combustion, I dont say that to be glorify, I say that to prove you how God is kind with those who love HIM. With the science that God gave me, I have corrected the science of many scientist, not little scientist, but great ones. The last that I have corrected in is science is Dr Joseph P. Farrell, naturelly, I made this like a gentleman, after all, he as a great knowledge that I aint got.

      You see Doug, I didn’t tell what I have experience in my last decade, you’ll be surprise how different your storie is beside mine, your experience was fritghtnen (?), and mine was very “cool”, except in the beginning.

      Many peoples have those kind of experiences with demons or angels, I have experience both, and God knows that angel are superior to man in many ways, but the most beautifull experiences that I have with angels is from their kindness, and their love for us that surpass all emotion that we can imagine, they have a way to make you feel good inside of you, whatever you are in your emotions, they can confort you like no other person can do.

      You see Doug, science have multiple faces as you probably know, today we have science for everything, event for religion, science is there to discover the truth about things that we dont understand.

      The science that God gave me is more then beautifull, because I’m in joy when I pull the curtain on something that is important to most of us.

      But the most important to know, is that you cannot be a sailor if you dont have a boat, for the Truth is the same principle, you cannot have the Truth if you dont read the Bible. What can I say more. God Bless Doug Yurchey

  5. Starheater says

    Hello M. Yurchey
    I’m surprise to see you in the skin of an author, this is very different of you habbit on World-Mystery.
    Well, we are kind of brother if I could say this in a sense, I am writing a book at this moment, I have writin’ already 200 pages, naturelly without photos, diagram and symbols. I will say the tittle in English, “The Great Mysteries of Earth”, I have surprising facts to inform the general public. It is more then just a simple book, it’s more a book of reference in the field of mysteries, it explains, report, adjust, correct, and reveals mysteriies that we found on Earth and the Univers, naturelly, I have for the most part of the book, proofs to reenforce statements that I write.

    Perhaps on day, and I hope that it will be soon, I will give you an exemple of this book, I think that knowing you in a way, you will read it with great interrest, if you are surprise, imagine ordinary people, well I’m hoping with the help of the Christ and OUR Father, that this book will be read in all language, this book will be dedicated to my Commandant the Christ, He merit all the Glory that this book will contain, and more.

    I hope that you will write more articles, I’m bore, you are my “punching bag” in a sense, but not really, you have all my respect even if you ain’t got for me. God Bless M.Yurchey, see you soon alligator, and not for a while crocodile.

    • John B says


      It seems for any mystery out there you have the same explanation: “Bible says God did it”. However this is like saying “butter is made of butter”, or “your room has light because you flipped the switch”. You also say “perhaps one day I will explain it” – but you don’t – which suggests you don’t have a clue (and you don’t need one – since “Christ did it” and that is your answer.)
      If you cannot contribute, perhaps you should not comment at all…

      • Starheater says

        Hello John B

        John B stand for Johnny B Good. The switch the you think I flip, well, I didn’t flip it, it is God who have flip it. I hope that your a reader of the Bible.

        In the Bible it is stated that “it’s not we who choose God, it’s Him that choose us”.

        You say that I have write those words: “perhaps one day I will explain it” , I dont remember have written those words. To be frank, I dont understand the second half of your paragraph, what you mean by “flip the switch”, and on what subject I “dont have a clue”, explain, elaborate.

        For the “butter is made of butter”, tend to be illogical, it’s like saying ” I am what I am”. God Bless John B

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