writing chapter 8.4

(6 philosophy)” – a probability wave that influences the outcome of the infinite things that can occur, and the stronger your intent, the more the universe resonates with it. Again, it comes down to consciousness. most scientists say consciousness is produced by – in – the brain. If you smash a brain there’s no more consciousness. But of course that’s like smashing a TV and saying it proves there’s no signal. Consciousness doesn’t come from neurological processes in the brain – consciousness produces the activity. Consciousness is a thing, not an action. It’s not thinking, but that which thinks. A quantum universe is a boiling cauldron of possibilities, out of which one thing happens at a time. And your consciousness can weight the dice in your favor. It really is that simple.”

“But why can’t I do it?” someone wailed.

She looked apologetic. “It’s within your grasp, each of us. Maybe we just have to believe.” A chorus of clapping followed – not because the panel was over, but because everyone in the audience thought of Peter Pan trying to save Tinkerbell from the poisoned medicine.

But the ushers came in for the 10 minute warning, and panel was over. A hundred people came up, mostly to touch Anomia, hoping some of the magic would rub off on them. They all felt the tingle, but nobody rose into the air.

(2 exercises)

They started making chi balls. Everyone in the room had removed their shoes (or webbed feet, or chained thigh boots) and stood in a roughly circular blog around Anomia, spread out to avoid whacking each other in the face as they warmed up. Circular breathing, grounding thru their feet (into concrete above at least 2 subfloors and 3 underground parking decks) and pulling energy down from the universe (thru 44 floor s of Dragoncon guestrooms) into the tops of their heads, concentrating the energy into their middles. What a buzz it was.

Then they did dervish spins, turning in the direction of an outstretched hand, slowly. No chain reactions, please. Then they sat and hummed for awhile, the mantra of their choice; some vocalized, some spoke in tongues. Nobody rolled their eyes or got up and left.

By this time they were very relaxed, breathing in rhythm with each other, brainwaves synchronized. They sang, a pick-a-note kind of thing, a tuneless, random twitter that evolved into some sort of non-repeating melody that seemed to express something. Something collective, anyway. The sound pleased most of them at a very deep level. Now and then it got boisterous and playful, once or twice somber or grating, and then stopped gradually, until they were sitting in silence, thinking their own thoughts, aware of everyone around them, aware of the weight of the thousands of souls at Dragoncon with them.

Like the crowd at last year’s levitation, they gradually became aware that they could hear everybody thinking, that they could almost see them thru their eyelids. This year they weren’t close enough to touch one another, so there was no question of Anomia’s physical transmission of power. They needed to figure out how to do it themselves, so they reached out from inside, sending their energy radiating around them, and gradually it started connecting and they began intertwining with each other, and as they did the field got stronger. They felt it surge, a stronger flow, a tug at the tops of their heads and a flush of both hot and cold over their bodies and out the bottoms of their feet.

Some of them were holding their breath, some were starting to hyperventilate; Anomia appeared in front of their closed eyes and reminded them to go with it, relax and stay calm in the moment, let it pass.

The moment stretched out into a place where there was no time, only being and infinity. They each felt every movement of air in the room, every creaking knee, coughed every cough. When one yawned, the whole room yawned and sighed. They each felt focused, clear, peaceful, strong, and full of bright warmness even the most skepical called love.

Their minds were still, they were focused on how they were actually being, rather than off in their heads somewhere, fretting or scheming. They were all having a full mystical experience, feeling like they were all connected, blissful, complete. At this point most of the room was asleep and dreaming they were all one. The more awake briefly considered whether to repeat the levitation, and while they decided not to bother, the sleepers dreamed they were flying.

When the ushers came in with the 10 minute warning sign, and paraded around the front of the room, nobody moved a muscle. Somebody started snoring. They all awoke refreshed as the session ended and the ushers opened the doors.

Anomia reflected as she got up that Fairy would be proud of her – she hadn’t said a word past her short introduction at the beginning of the class.

Fairy had started her panel in the Costuming track by getting herself up as her own avatar and parading around in front of the audience, pointing out how flattering it was. After she tired of the adulation, she sat at the table and started up a slide show, presenting her (Radhu’s) designs for the avatars. She went thru the range of character choices and the options for each character class. There were so many, and they were all delightfully different – there were even animal avatars.

She was in the middle of accessorizing her avatar onscreen when she noticed with some irritation that several people were talking, and a couple of them were tittering softly. She went on, deciding to focus on another character – these rubes weren’t appreciating her presentation; it was an insult to her avatar.

She picked a character at random, a nice looking male with a bow over his shoulder. “This is a hunter dressed for the third ring of Antarctica,” she said. “We haven’t yet gotten around to actually creating the third ring, or any of the other rings, mainly because certain forces don’t want our game to succeed.” She thought darkly of Snake. “Now, your typical character progresses thru the rings and changes careers as they go thru the game. In the Megacity of the future…”

She looked for the proper choice on the menu. The audience laughed about something. She paused her search and looked up. There was some guy standing up in the middle of the audience, his arms outstretched, turning slowly in a circle to show off his costume. All eyes were on him. Fairy flushed. “The bathroom’s down the hall to the left,” she snapped.

But the audience was applauding the guy, and he was bowing and flourishing his hand. Dressed in buckskins and a leather cap with a feather in it, balloon pants and pasha shoes. Just like the avatar on screen, in fact. Fairy was a bit flustered. “That’s great,” she nodded to the guy. “You’re ahead of the curve. Folks, this is what kind of costume you can expect from only a single level of our game. There’s lots more where that one came from. Hey, sit down, okay?” she said to the guy, “I’m running out of time here.” The 10 minute usher was hovering just inside the door.

The guy came up to her after the presentation was over and people were leaving the room. He approached the table grinning like a fool. His costume looked great, tho.

He tried to hide his disappointed when he realized she didn’t know who he was. “Miss Fairy,” he said gently, to ease the shock. “I am Radhu, your faithful servant. From India.”

Fairy backed away, horrified. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, covering her astonishment.

“I have slaved all year to be able to come to Dragoncon again. This time I have saved up and bought my membership, and I took the liberty of making my own costume based on the designs which I so humbly dedicated to you. I am here,” he finished proudly, “to introduce myself to the rest of the team and ask how I might continue to serve the greater good, helping to complete the creation of this paradigm-changing game.”

Fairy’s mouth dropped open. “Uh…I have to go.” She looked at her watch to make sure, avoided his eyes while packing up, raced off with him in tow, and left him in the elevator lobby for a minute, while she made for the escalator and relatively quickly left the building.

While Anomia was blissed out among friends, Josh and Snake were surrounded by foes down in the game hall (???)

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About jeanne

artist, grandma, alien

Posted on November 5, 2013, in Dailies, dragoncon, fiction, Nanowrimo. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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