on to the Realm of The Moire Arena
by Ron O. Cook
Although the amount of arable land which could be made available with the most careful terracing was not large enough to support a very great population, Machu Picchu offered an impregnable citadel to the chiefs and priests and their handful of followers who were obliged to flee from the rich plains near Cuzco and the broad, pleasant valley of Yucay. Only dire necessity and terror could have forced a people which had reached such a stage in engineering, architecture, and agriculture, to leave hospitable valleys and tablelands for rugged canyons. Certainly there is no part of the Andes less fitted by nature to meet the requirements of an agricultural folk, unless their chief need was a safe refuge and retreat.
Below is the story of that ancient time
AND JOMON SAID: “12,900 years ago, when I was in my youth, my father and I witnessed the first incoming shards of a massive comet called Dragona. It appeared almost as a feathered serpent in the high sky as its first splintered pieces came slithering into our sector of the universe spewing its destruction thoroughly upon our beloved work. The massive comet twisted as it fragmented into numerous portions and those who saw it said it resembled a giant snake with a fiery head. Segments of it went into orbit to rain havoc down on the Earth for eons. The heaviest parts drilled deep within the planet causing massive earthquakes. Earlier, as we stood in awe watching it come to our world on our sensors at our small Home Base (Puma Punku). It was felt as a foreboding and deeply dreaded knowing that we must seek safety immediately. Massive fear swept over the assembled creators on assignment there for we had become accustomed to the good life. As engineers of Macro and Micro Creations or genetic science, we were well versed in the ways of existence. We knew all too well, that our time on Earth was about to be transformed by an act that would send massive tsunamis and earthquakes across the entire planet. Our works would be destroyed in an instant and a new test of our abilities was about to begin.
We had already set up a number of outposts for our research teams of geneticists in what is now Biru or Peru in various places held in solid unmovable white granite stone in guarded hopes that we could survive with some of our works. We ( my father’s team/s) would weather the onslaught of this massive comet in the seclusion of these strong mountains. You now call it Machu Picchu. Immediately we began to build a base there amid those jagged, strong peaks. Tunnels were carved with our projected beams to provide hydra-tight facilities for research and survival. In fact the mountains were perfect as an impregnable base of operations. It still is such today. We were prepared technologically (reference flying platforms that housed our systems and technomachines) and psychologically but much of the rest of the planet would be caught by surprise. We knew we would have much to do after the onslaught of the event had devastated almost all of what we had accomplished over time: therefore, we set plans into motion for the entire planet. We designated future bases of operations and units that would help survivors and continue to restructure (teach) those who had lost their memory of who and what we were due to a psychological stress or trauma to the onboard mentality. It was a long-term plan and I would play a unifying role in its accomplishment as the time-catalyst. In essence, I had to live forever as I still do. One wishes we had detected the aberration earlier but no, some had already become complacent via selfishness. Perhaps it was this slovenly attitude that was to set us back due to our awakening negative indolence. Apparently we would face starting over in this sector of the universe. Now, a highly advanced civilization was about to gear up for the greatest catastrophe.” “The story begins at my seat (home) and our oncoming end.”
In a secret chamber near the Temple of the Moon — Machu Picchu Peru: (Recording on Computerized ME not unlike an advanced I-pad or I-com).
On this day, I crawl out of my secret, crypt unusually tired and over-burdened with the passing of the many echelons of seemingly ancient time that I have spent here in these stone chambers of our past construct. Out of this so-called lunar temple of massive stone — one more time, I do step. Unknown to those who service this ancient site, I am merely a worker here hiding in plain sight. I will now just slip past the present-day minions, who seem to collect here out of curiosity for some sad reason to understand this site; and go stealthily via (known only to me to) an interior section where a particle transferor awaits in our old lab to slip to the hidden reflection of this site, where my means of earthly travel is still hidden in its park — safe from intruders. With this craft, I will once again survey the state of existence here in this last example of the Goge Sector.
At this point in time, I have forgotten how old I truly am, but I seem to have the History of the Universe running through my mind or more succinctly through my veins and neuronal byways (It is a wonder this fleshly vehicle that I ride, still works after all the abuse it has experienced). I have seen much during this duration of being here as the entity Jomon. (I am) just living as a human being who is occupying a form in Time/Space and on mission from Timelessness — or so I have come to knowingly amplify lest I forget — as others have forgotten. What a massive inundation of data I have to review and relate; yet, I seem to still have the ability to remember most of it. My ME will record everything and feedback to me in my hibernation state. This state of sleeping through the hard times in order to bridge the mission my father put me to, is a pain no other person could or should endure. But, I must do this for the record. The records purpose I will reveal to my hidden brotherhood shortly in the last remaining hideaway other than mine here. I must hasten there now.
The Shema craft is our destiny as we shepherds make haste toward the pyramid of ascent for our journey to Biru. It is far away and will mean I have almost the time of an orbit to contemplate and make plans for our protection and hopefully a saving of our research tools and creations. It has been a great period while here in the Moiré Arena utilizing this grand sheath to accomplish the information transfers.
I have almost forgotten my true self while immersed in this assignment. But I still hold true to my test. My pilot has arrived and I shall retire to my post to meditate upon my task ahead. Away. But we shall pass over the wonders of our primary seat upon this old and distant realm called Earth. We had built a grand place in this massive valley of fruitful creations. The mediety of the Me and the Other. It is such a beautiful collection of so many Pyramids of Record.
I leave this message to you as I step out to move about this planet one more time.
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Copyright 2013 by Ron O. Cook
Presented with permission of the Author