The Nine, The Nine Trilogy. Book 1
The conference room is dark with deep royal purple depths of curtains and a rich black mahogany table. The Nine are present to bestow a once in this life time honor upon a chosen few mechanisms. These little beings will know prosperity that is richness in whatever drives them. The Nine collectively express their thoughts, “We will give them enough keys to ultimately manifest in this lifetime.”
Oh… it is insanely entertaining for The Nine and at the same time a sense of responsibility is inherent. You see, the mechanisms will never really be in the know. We are the few that are the residue of the Processor’s orchestrations. There is no way to rid the Processor of us for we are a byproduct of an efficient machine. Being in full awareness that the human body and mind are vehicles for the soul’s ride during its lifetime, we transcend the physical and mental with ease.
“Shall we begin the fun?” Thana asks head tipped up a bit with a smart smirk. The Nine know that they freak the mechanisms out and it brings up a satisfying chuckle within causing a powerful resonating thunder in the room, for how could the mechanisms ever truly know Gods?
Our monotony is a product of our ease in navigating this planetary experience. It is gratifying to change a mechanism’s life and we do no harm, well that’s our story and we’re sticking to it. This little game allows us to engage in the linear existence for we are the non-linear. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it just is. We just are.
Do not confuse the flatness with discontent for we are so inherently what we are in essence that we are in absolute contentment. Mechanisms have this intriguing fallibility that has great entertainment value. This is a forever game, a forever challenge, an eternity of we just are and it just is with a bit of flavor, aesthetics, music.
“Let us celebrate everyone, for we have a new batch of mechanisms!” Thana exclaims. “Our selections will prove most entertaining.”
“Oh my indeed, yes.”, says Noel with a flutter of the eyes hands on heart twisting side to side like an excited little girl that just got a new puppy. “I just love the humanitarian mechanism. Truly one of my favorites.”
“Like that surprises any of us Noel. Love, sheesh!” says Will with a mirthful shake of his head.
Not looking to delay the game, Thana harnesses the power of the room with a tip of the head and one simple intake of breath. She then calmly exhales returning to each of The Nine, including herself, their pure energy. With the room cleansed, they continue.
At the beginning of each adventure, The Nine tend to consider the Processor as an integral part of the games. For as faceless shadowy forms, they emerge as seen by the few… The Nine are a culmination of energies, a byproduct of the Processor’s incredible fine tuning of soul experience on the planet. It has become a bit of a ritual where they collectively sit eyes forward seeing nothing, introspective to their non-human condition. Mechanisms name the Processor, God or Source or whatever resonates with their mental being in their particular lifetime. The Nine know the Processor as the infinite Alpha and Omega. The Nine cannot find question with the Processor for there is none.
Then, a sense of self-awareness surfaces. We Nine are not part of the mechanism’s paddling pool, we are a culmination of the ethereal pool itself. Our essence is not easily sensed nor detected in corporeal form. We are regarded, when the mechanisms are able to actually see us, as a bit macabre for we reflect their grandest fear, their demise. They dance with their idea of the dead when they agree to make us their benefactor.
The mechanisms tend to manifest us as deadly elegant: incredibly beautiful, sophisticated, modern and sleek. We are viewed as witty, glowing with uber-strengths, resiliency, intellect and beauty. Though some may project various little affinities that lie deep within them, the mechanisms are indeed in awe. We are The Nine. We are the outer-world’s philanthropists. We are feared, loathed and we are most of all loved.
“Our Abecedarians are on their way quite nicely. So far, not one has lost their way. This is quite interesting.” Quinn provides an insightful progress report of the mechanism’s journey to The Nine
“I am providing colorfully detailed sight for these mechanisms are a special lot.” Luna adds.
“You always proclaim such, Luna.” The Nine collectively express this thought playfully for the new adventure, The Cultivation, begins.
Standing just next to the drapery that is hung from a ceiling that very few can ascertain its height, Eastman scans the room setting the energetic stage for the proceedings.
First, his spectacled gaze turns to the ancient doors that allow particular access to these events. These living portals appear to be 20 feet tall to most and are forever engraving themselves with records of past Cultivations. Eastman has a polite discussion with Portal imprinting access; permissions for the Abecedarians.
Having been on this task since last evening, Eastman has been considering the color of the drapes for these Abecedarians are divergent in their aims. He decides upon crimson red, a decision only he fully can understand. He secretly hopes that it doesn’t trigger the Abecedarian, Louis. Well not so much actually, he considers with a laugh.
Rubbing his hand along the mahogany table, Eastman doesn’t adjust a thing for this piece has been his pièce de résistance for the last several Cultivations. Terribly modern with a chic heaviness, the surface is hand waxed with the most beautiful natural reflection, providing guidance to those that just ask.
Eastman next rounds the table and holds up his hands. With a slight flick he manifests a mid-table feast of sustenance and libation with the thought that it might as well be porcelain for no one partakes.
Eastman mutters to himself eyes downward shaking his head, though The Nine can hear him as if he was using a megaphone, “I spend days on healing energy and the Abecedarians tend to be too nervous to see that right before them is their remedy.”
Thana strolls over to admire Eastman’s breathtaking repast and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And they will be so very hungry and thirsty at the post Cultivation celebration. It is sweet to offer what no Abecedarian so far has been able to sense.”
With a nod newly energized, Eastman is onto his next task that is one of his own making. This does not exist according to the linear world, but yet it does. Standing in the center of the room, Eastman slowly raises his hands palms up introducing textures into the air. His textures are meant to provide an initial sensory awakening experience for the Abecedarians. His little gift to them, a well wish for the adventure ahead, for the Cultivation is not to be taken up by the light of heart.