“An Enlightened Master is ideal only if your goal is to become a Benighted Slave.” Robert Anton Wilson AAfter the performance by James Steerforth, there was no shortage of volunteers from The Washington Post’s crew to participate in another demonstration. With the heavy shielding and limits on space, everyone had to be either shoehorned into the windowless control room or watch the demonstration on video monitors in the waiting area outside. Th ere was only enough space for the senior Post brass, Penelope, Walker and Altman in the control room. There were three chairs in front of the control room console. Altman took the seat in the middle with Flickling to his left and Mitchell to his right. Walker, Spence and Hatchet stood behind them. “This entire area is heavily shielded,” Dr. Altman said. “Is that to keep interference out?” Hatchet asked. “Initially, that was the idea,” Altman said turning to make eye contact with Hatchet. “With our recent advances it is more important to keep our experiment contained. We used to have thick glass here in the control room but we had to replace it with something more resistant to our experiments. As we got better it started to affect this room as well. That’s why we will need to observe this via video.” “That sounds ominous,” Flickling said as he adjusted himself more comfortably in the chair. The plane trip and the long day were wreaking havoc on his lower back. “Is it safe in here?” 269 The Fourth Awakening “The risk is negligible,” Dr. Altman assured him. “We have gotten more and more skilled and better able to focus our eff orts.” On multiple viewing screens inside the control room, they all could see four reporters from the Post; two men and two women. Dressed in blue surgical scrubs, their body language said everything anyone needed to know about their relationships. Each had claimed a corner of the cube and was as far away from the others as possible. Their eyes kept darting around like mice looking for the cat. Each kept shifting his or her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Both women had their arms folded across their chests and the two men refused to make eye contact with the other. “Normally I wouldn’t put those guys together in such a small space,” Hatchet said. “Are you sure this is what you want?” “They are bitter rivals?” Altman asked “That’s putting it mildly. We had to break up a fi st-fight between Steve and Alex in the newsroom last week over a story assignment. Joan and Celeste work the Capitol Hill beat and have been at each other’s throats for years.” “Then they’re perfect,” Walker said. “Let’s get started.” Altman turned on the microphone. “We’re going to begin now. Will each of you please be seated?” The four moved gingerly in the direction of the wobbly plastic table in the center of the cube and claimed one of the white chairs each. None made eye contact with any of the others. Altman flipped a switch and, other than a red “In Use” indicator light blinking on the control panel, nothing seemed to be happening. “You may feel a slight dizziness. That is to be expected. Sit back and relax, this will not take very long.” Altman turned off the microphone and addressed the people in the control room. “We should start seeing a reaction in just a few moments.” “What kind of reaction?” “They are being hit with a very specific magnetic wave that will cause some portions of the brain to become less active.” “Is this the part you have to quiet first?” Franklin Mitchell asked. “Exactly,” Altman answered. “All of these subjects have strong and well-developed egos. Decreasing activity in this part of the mind will cause them to experience the early stages of enlightenment.” “What the hell does that mean?” Mitchell demanded. 270 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “They will start to experience a level of contentment they have never thought possible.” Walker pointed toward the cube. “It has already started.” In the cube, the four people around the table no longer looked like mortal enemies. Their body language had gone from defensive to relaxed and open. They were actually smiling, possibly even at each other. Altman flipped on the microphone. “How are you all doing in there?” “I’ve never felt better in my life,” answered one of the male reporters. “Amazing,” said one the female reporters as she glanced around the table. The other three head nodded their agreement. “I feel like a weight has been lift ed off of me…” They all began to talking at the same time and only bits and pieces could be distinguished. “I’m happier than…” “…total peace…” “…relaxed…” “….feeling of absolute serenity…” When they realized they had been talking over each other, all conversation stopped. They glanced around the table and all burst into laughter. They all began talking again, this time apologizing for their rudeness, then started laughing again. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this day,” Hatchet said as he watched the interplay with his mouth hanging open. “Th at’s amazing.” “That’s the future of mankind, if we can survive the transition.” “One of you better start explaining this,” Mitchell insisted with the tone of a person at the pinnacle of their worldly infl uence. “I think that’s enough, Carl,” Walker said. Altman nodded his agreement and the “In Use” light clicked off. Immediately, four members of the Hermes Project entered the test room and joined Th e Washington Post reporters in the cube. Th ey offered the test subjects bottles of water, which they quickly accepted. As the room began to fi ll with the rest of the WaPo people, loud animated conversations and laughter echoed off the walls as each of the reporters tried to describe to their compatriots what it had been like. “Gentlemen,” and with a nod toward Penelope, “and Lady,” Walker said. “We are on the cusp of the Fourth Awakening of mankind.” Walker pointed toward the cube. “And that is a perfect example of the potential. All we did was give each of them a nudge and shine a bit of light on the path; their innate nature did the rest. In one hundred years or so, the way 271 The Fourth Awakening they are reacting and interacting will be the norm.” “So,” Hatchet said, “this will work on anyone?” “This is a much lower level of stimulation and considerably less focused than what James Steerforth went through. All that happened is we briefl y sped up a process that has already started. All four of those people have experienced something they may have found on their own tomorrow, next week, next year or decades from now.” “Is this a permanent change?” Mitchell asked. “Possibly, but not very likely in this case,” Dr. Altman said. “Th ey would have to spend much more time with us at this point to permanently rewire their neuropathways and stabilize the brain processes involved.” “It is important that you understand that this phenomenon is occurring spontaneously around the world, as we speak,” Walker interjected. “You’re saying the whole human race is moving in this direction?” Hatchet asked. “Yes. It’s the Fourth Awakening that was mentioned in the material we sent you. What we’re hoping is, with your help, we can get out in front of this and let people know what’s happening before it is too late because there is a potential dark side.” “That is why it is so urgent,” Dr. Altman added. “This technology can be used to enhance the human experience or, in the wrong hands, stifl e it. “I’m sorry,” Bill Flickling said, “I don’t see a problem here. If this can make the world a better place, then I just don’t see a problem.” “The problem,” Walker answered, “if we had shined a light on a slightly different path, some of them may have turned into monsters.” “What the hell does that mean?” Flickling demanded. “Some people,” Walker answered calmly. “When they reach the non-symbolic state of consciousness…” Franklin Mitchell cut Walker off in mid-sentence. “What the hell is this non-symbolic whatever you said and what does it have to do with the Hermes Project?” “Non-symbolic consciousness is difficult to describe since the vocabulary is still evolving and most of the current words are just placeholders. But generally speaking, in Eastern religions it is called enlightenment. In Western religions it is God’s divine grace.” A smile broke across Walker’s face. “To Luke Skywalker it was the Force. And it has everything to do with the Hermes Project.” 272 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “Look, Walker,” Bill Flickling said as he tried again to get himself more comfortable in his chair. “Everything I’ve seen today is damn impressive and you’ve got tomorrow’s front page. But if this is all you’ve got…” “The problem is,” Walker answered calmly. “Some people arrive at this state and still have personal and psychological baggage. Some of them are the exact people Senator Horn is afraid of; people who think they are God and the rest of us are just their play toys.” “What Michael is trying to say,” Dr. Altman interjected. “Th is Awakening is occurring and there are people that can use this technology for their personal or political advantage. We know or suspect at least six other groups that are currently involved in similar research to ours. It is important you understand with just a few minor changes of the settings, I could have had your people at each other’s throats instead of having a group hug.” “There’s going to be a transition period,” Walker added. “We’re afraid a great number of people will get hurt or worse if we don’t get out in front of this.” “Okay,” Franklin Mitchell said as he stood up and tried to start pacing but gave up for lack of space in the control room. “You’re saying there may be other people out there whose intentions are not necessarily good and somehow this technology can be used as a weapon.” “Exactly,” Walker and Altman answered in unison. The senior managers from The Washington Post exchanged worried glances. Mark Hatchet spoke for all of them. “I understand what you’re saying,” Hatchet said. “But until I see it, I’ll have trouble believing it.” “I won’t put any of my people through that,” Walker said fl atly. “You don’t have to.” Hatchet answered, his eyes locked on Walker’s. “I’ll do it.” “No.” Walker said. “Without a demonstration,” Flickling said, pulling himself out of his chair, “we’ve spent a great deal of time and money on a story that, while interesting won’t survive a 24 hour news cycle. In three days the Hermes Project will be forgotten.” Walker looked at Altman, who reluctantly nodded his approval. After Hatchet had changed into a blue surgical gown and removed his watch, he joined Walker in the plastic cube. All of the furniture except for a single plastic chair had been removed. “This is for your protection,” Walker said as he bound Hatchet’s wrists to the arms of the chair with white medical tape. 273 The Fourth Awakening Hatchet looked down at his wrists. “I don’t think that will hold me for very long.” “It doesn’t need to. We are only going to give you a short burst, but you will find it terrifying. One aspect of this will trigger your natural fi ght or flight instincts on a level that’s far beyond what you’ve experienced before. You will want to run but not be able to so you may try to fi ght. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “After that we will flood the room with a different blast that should nullify the fi rst one.” “Should nullify?” Hatchet said as he checked the tape on his wrists. “Don’t like the sound of that.” “The worst case scenario is you wrestle a bit with Timothy and his friends,” Walker nodded toward Ellison and the two others in the cube with him. “Just remember, you know what’s coming and the unknown is often the most frightening. It takes a few seconds to change the settings in the control room and depending on how you respond, it could feel like hours. Try to relax and go with it. Okay?” “Okay.” Hatchet forced a smile and waved to a ghost white Penelope who was standing by the door to the control room. Penelope could hear her heart pounding in her ears and her palms were clammy. Th e reluctance of both Walker and Altman to allow any of their own people to do this demonstration concerned her mightily. They both knew exactly what was about to hit Mark. How would he take it? Was it possible he would react like the men from Homeland Security and end up insane or worse? Penelope closed her eyes, drew in a deep cleansing breath, and allowed herself to relax. Mark was going to be fi ne. Walker chatted privately with Timothy Ellison and two of the youngest and largest members of Hermes. Their faces were grim but all nodded that they understood what to do. Ellison opened a storage case and removed three motorcycle style helmets that appeared to be larger and thicker than the off the rack versions. The three donned them, fastened the chinstraps, and took up positions inside the cube as far from Hatchet as space would allow. Walker joined the others in the shielded control room and nodded in the direction of Dr. Altman. “The headgear they are wearing will block the pulse,” Walker stated. The “In Use” light blinked on. At first there was no reaction by Mark 274 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin Hatchet. Then his eyes grew wild and his breathing started coming in gulps. He pulled his wrists to his mouth and started tearing the tape that was restraining him with his teeth. “I want out of here!” He screamed in a voice that sent chills up Penelope’s spine. With an unexpected burst of strength, he tore the last of the tape from his wrists and tossed the chair aside. Seeing his path to the door blocked, he started backing away from the other men in the cube. A guttural growl was heard as Hatchet’s eyes danced between the other men in the cube. “My God,” Penelope gasped. “Is that what happened to those men you lost?” “That’s enough,” Walker shouted as he burst out of the control room. Walker, along with Ellison and the two other men in the cube all spread out and gingerly approached Hatchet. “Mark,” Walker said in a soothing voice. “It’s all going to be fi ne. Just hang in there for a few more seconds.” Hatchet’s eyes danced between the four men until he backed into the wall and could retreat no further. “Carl!” Walker shouted as Hatchet grabbed the chair he had cast aside and threw it at the men who were closing in on him. It missed Ellison by inches. Altman worked frantically to change the setting on the control panel. The “In Use” light clicked on. “You won’t take me alive!” Hatchet shouted, as he lunged toward Walker who grabbed him in a bear hug. As the new pulse started to fi ll the chamber, the rage began to leave Hatchet’s body. Walker, with the help of the others, lowered Hatchet gently to the floor where he curled up into a fetal position softly muttering, “You won’t take me alive.” Penelope pushed her way past Franklin Mitchell and ran into the cube. “Mark!” she shouted. The sound of her voice caused him to stop mumbling, and instead he began rocking on the cold concrete floor. “Mark,” she said softly. “It’s me, Nellie.” “Nellie?” His eyes slowly focused on the woman kneeling in front of him. A smile broke across his face. “Nellie! Wow. And I thought my last divorce was bad.” A huge smile covered Penelope’s face. “He’s okay. He’s okay!” Hatchet and Spence turned toward the control room door and saw Flickling and Mitchell on their feet, both white as a sheet. Neither moved and neither blinked until Walker rejoined them. 275 The Fourth Awakening Mitchell cleared his throat before speaking. “You’re telling us there are other people and governments who are working on this technology?” “Yes,” Walker answered. “The people have a right to know.” A grim Franklin Mitchell turned to Bill Flickling and nodded. Flickling, his hands trembling, pulled out his cell phone. All of the shielding kept him from getting a signal. He pointed to a phone on Dr. Altman’s workstation in the control room and asked, “Can I get an outside line?” Altman shoved the phone in his direction. Quickly dialing a number he said, “This is Flickling. Clear the front page and I want a minimum of four interior pages…” . FFor the next six hours, the Lazy S dining room was the western annex of The Washington Post. Walker’s team had anticipated everything the newspaper people could need, from a good selection of wonderful food and drink, to high-speed Internet connections. At around six o’clock Jackson time, 8 p.m. Eastern, someone announced: “They’ve got footage up on YouTube of James Steerforth with his ping pong paddles doing his kung fu shuffl e…” Another voice added, “Some of the forums are already starting to go nuts.” As eleven o’clock Eastern time approached, a hushed crowd began to form around the workstation Mark Hatchet had claimed for himself. Sitting next to him, her eyes flying across the screen, sat Penelope Drayton Spence as she finished one last proofread. “We good to go?” Hatchet asked. “One second,” Spence answered. For the past six hours, Penelope Spence had directly supervised the writing of over fourteen articles that would be appearing in the next edition of The Washington Post. In addition to the expected material on the history of the Hermes Project and what it had discovered, there were individual profiles on both Michael Walker and Dr. Carl Altman. Altman had worked with his old student Aaron Joseph, who had written a passable feature on exactly what they were doing and how it was accomplished. In addition there were articles titled, “Are you Awakening: Five Early Signs”, “What the Awakening Will Mean to You”, and “Protecting Yourself fr om Unwanted EM Pulses”. Each of the four reporters who had been in the 276 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin cube wrote outstanding stories about their experiences. Mark Hatchet even wrote a rare feature, in which Penelope allowed him to have a solo byline, on what had happened to him. The religious beat writer, who was mesmerized by Michael Walker, wrote a detailed history of the previous Awakenings, and a top-shelf analysis on how this Awakening and previous ones did not actually conflict with the world’s major religious texts. Needless to say, Timothy Leary didn’t make the cut. Hatchet’s cell phone rang. “Hatchet.” He listened intently, and then jumped to his feet. “The New York Times has just gone to press with this headline for their lead story.” He let the tension build for a moment, but with the tears in his eyes and the grin on his face he wasn’t about to bluff anyone. “I guess they need to start reading The Washington Post. Their lead headline: What is the Hermes Project?” A roar went up from the room full of tired journalists. It died down quickly as all eyes turned back to Penelope who, oblivious to what was swirling around her, still sat staring intently at the computer monitor. The CEO of The Washington Post Group was sitting with the publisher and Michael Walker, sipping a single malt whiskey, neat. “That’s quite some lady you’ve got there,” Mitchell said, his voice slightly slurred from single handedly finishing an entire fi fth of the golden liquor in one sitting. “She is that.” Franklin Mitchell put his arm around the shoulder of publisher Bill Flickling. “I want you to hire her.” “After tomorrow, I don’t think we will be able to aff ord her.” “Did I stutter, Bill? I said hire her, I didn’t ask how much it was going to cost. Back up a damn Brinks truck, if you have to. Her name on the masthead will add five dollars a share to the value of our stock.” “Many of the old warhorses won’t like it if we pay her more than them.” “Then tell them to quit living off their past glory and go out and write something new. I want to see her name in my newspaper.” “Yes, sir.” Penelope fi nally finished the article and nodded her approval. “We’re good to go?” Hatchet asked again. &ldq............