So Much Mystery
In a way, I guess, it's begun to feel like the beginning all over again. My beginning, at least, I know there is plenty that happened before me, but I was pretty early all the same. It's small, it's quiet, and it's awkward. That's something that nobody tells you about working in a small group of incredibly talented people – for the most part they're also very awkward. Apparently it's a little tough to build social skills and a world class level of understanding based around theoretical physics. Who knew?
We still do our jobs, of course, that's what we've been doing, that's what we're here for, but there is a certain level of detachment now. When you've seen a place grow so big, especially for what it is, and then to have to come down off that mountain... I don't know. There was a time there where it really seemed like we'd do it. I think there's still a chance, there's always a chance, but before... I just really thought we'd do it. I thought we were close to some breakthrough, putting some puzzle piece together, and then we'd be done.
Grandfather Spaulding always made sure that we knew this might not happen in his lifetime, or even ours. I can't really say I was lied to. That wouldn't be fair. I'm probably just not used to disappointment like this after such a long stretch of good. Still, there's something inside me that just wants to be there when the project is finished. It's hard to work for an abstract. I think that's fair to say.
I think it's really been tough since Claudia left. That's when the light really left Grandfather Spaulding, and when the fight and the passion has left the one person you look to most for that, it makes it tough to have any passion yourself. None of us knew something like that was coming. Claudia, ever since she was born, she's been a fixture of this place. This is the only home she ever knew. The only family. I just can't think of where she might've gone.
There's a lot of that going around, for me anyway. I'll catch myself thinking it all the time, 'didn't I used to have fun, sometimes? I can't think of where that might've gone...' or, 'there was a time when bodies weren't hanging in the yard and I can't think of where that time might've gone...' There was a time when people weren't afraid to be here and afraid to leave. I'm almost sure of it.
When it really went bad, it all happened so quickly. You'd think you'd see something like this on the horizon, get a chance to prepare a little bit, and in retrospect I guess there were clues, but once things really started to slide downhill there wasn't anything to do but hold on. Couple of months. That's all it takes. A couple of months and all of a sudden you're doing the same things you've done before, only your whole world has changed around you. A couple of months and you're watching a public execution and the major thought in your mind is, 'at least it's not me.' A couple of months and you're wondering if you're going to die at work someday, or if something is going to snap and you're going to be killed trying to leave.
The saddest part is that I think all of us joined because we thought we'd make the world a better place. We thought we were going to take humanity into it's next state of being. We thought we'd be heroes on a level that has never even been understood before. And we still might, I guess. We still work. We still do the same things we've always done, granted we lack the resources and only have a fraction of the manpower left, but we still do what we do, and we do it well.
I think I could accept my lot more easily if I could at least know why it all shook out this way. When you have the full story, it's easier to digest. Easier to deal with. There's just so much mystery that my mind seems unable to let go of, no matter how hard I try. The meditation techniques we've practiced do nothing. Focusing entirely on the work does nothing. Exercising until I collapse does nothing. The only thing that really does something are the heavy sedatives we all have access to now. But that's a very temporary fix, and before you know it your alarm is chiming and it's back to working and thinking. Thinking and working. Always one or the other. Usually both.
This isn't history. Everybody knows this isn't history. But something must be put out on schedule. Grandfather Spaulding has been very clear about adhering to the schedule. Nobody knows why. Just another track for the mind to endlessly circle. It might all be meaningless at this point. But things are still going to get put out on time. That's something to cling to.
You never really know when you're going to go, I suppose. The last few weeks and months have shown us that, for sure. So I'm, sort of, considering every day to be something of a gift. Every day I get from here on out is all stolen time, and I'm going to try and grab as much of it as I can before they catch me. And maybe I'll grab enough to leave a bit of myself behind, too. I'd like that. I have things to leave now, I guess, but it's all information. It's nothing physical. No big change. No fundamental shift.
But like I said, every day is a gift, too, so I'd better give now while I'm able. Here are some things I know that I hoped we'd get to tell. Maybe this well be edited out, maybe...who knows. But I'll try.
There are creatures, beings, Gods, however you want to name them, that exist in a higher dimensional state than we do, and are therefore able to observe and interact with us on a fundamental yet extremely advanced level.
These creatures, those that we call the “Voices”, seem to have the intention of raising other conscious and sapient species to their level.
Part of the Voices criteria for selection is a certain amount of emotional intelligence, specifically in the areas of compassion and empathy.
Humanity had not proven themselves emotionally, and our test had something to do with the people from the Other-Earth that the Voices connected us to. The answer was in there, we just hadn't been able to make the right connections yet. We hadn't heard the whole story. We still haven't, although we're close.
Grandfather Spaulding was used as a medium for the word of the Voices here on Earth.
The voices from the Other-Earth came from Grandfather Spaulding's subconscious, which was accessed via a combination of hypnosis, surgery, and psychoactive pharmaceutical drugs.
It's not much of a legacy, but it's something. I'll take it. It's more than some people get. At least I tried. I can be proud of that, even if it's one of the only things I can ever be proud of. I tried. I did my best. I think most of us did.
Sometimes the world is just mean.
-an anonymous Think Tank representative.