Another excerpt from The Spaces Between, an opus like no other… because I haven’t written any others. Don’t think of it as a literary work, think of it more as a hobby of mine that I am inflicting upon you. When we last left Ted, he was at the infamous Nellis Air Force Base, AKA “Area 51.” And… he’s still there, but getting more involved.
“Now if you will excuse us,” said the tall white that appeared to outrank the other entity, “We have matters of our own with which to contend.” He began moving toward the security doors, his long hand ready to seal them shut once more, when his counterpart spoke up.
“Unless you have any further questions,” offered this other entity who still stood close to the group of humans. He hadn’t moved away as the other had done, and he now seemed to radiate a sense of curiosity. It seemed he desired further contact with the so-called ‘lower consciousness.’ To Ted’s mild surprise, the first entity stopped and waited, and he realized he was no closer to figuring out the pecking order of these strange beings. Something about them, something other than their non-human appearance, gave him the heebie-jeebies, and this might be his only opportunity to get some definite answers.
“I have a question,” he said, looking tentatively towards the closest tall white entity. Everyone in the group looked at him, their expressions asking him what the hell he was doing. He pretended not to notice, and continued unabated.
“May I ask?”
The tall white turned to him, seemed to consider him for a moment, and then nodded.
“Ok,” Ted continued. “I was wondering, why is it that when I’m around you, I get the impression that you’re… that you’re not…,” he gestured, trying to indicate there was no way to put his question delicately. The tall white didn’t move his large eyes, he just nodded at Ted again, as if to encourage him. On sensing this, Ted went with the direct approach.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re dead?” he asked.
The two tall whites exchanged a brief look, and then smiled.
“This is because,” the first tall white replied, “to your living senses, we are dead.”
Seeing the confusion growing in the human group’s collective expression, the other tall white explained further.
“Our physical forms, through which we interact with you, are very much alive,” he elaborated. “However, our consciousness knows no boundary between ‘living’ and ‘dead.’ We see both perspectives, and, to us, both states are just parts of a larger perspective.”
Ted’s eyes darted from one to the other and back.
“Ah,” he managed. He hoped he sounded like he understood, but the entities indicated immediately that they understood he did not. They explained further.
“Our conscious minds do not register a ‘living’ wavelength,” the entity continued, “and your mind is obviously able to detect this. You sense lifeless bodies, based on your own instinct for survival.”
“For you,” the other offered, “being around the dead raises a primitive alarm that you, too, may be in danger of becoming… dead.”
The two fell silent, watching Ted’s reaction to see if their explanation had been satisfactory. Ted, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, just nodded, hoping they would elaborate further. They did.
“The bodies you see as ‘us’ are not living in the sense that you are used to encountering. They are, to us, like game pieces on a gaming board. We move them, but we are not them. In this sense, they come across as lifeless.”
“Our physical condition is no different than yours, really,” the second one chimed in. “The only difference is in awareness. We are aware that our consciousness resides outside of the physical form. You have been conditioned to feel that you are your physical form.”
“You can only experience your corporeal reality through that corporeal form,” the first one continued. “Your mind has been blinded to the larger field of reality.”
They stared at him, waiting to hear what his response would be. They had noticed a distinct change in his expression, and they were curious to know what conclusion he had drawn from their briefly attempted explanation.
“I saw a meme once,” Ted finally spoke. “It said, ‘You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.”
The tall whites lit up. “Yes,” one said. “That is the idea.”
“However, your soul has been limited in vision thus far, the larger realms veiled to your consciousness,” the other said. “Or rather, your larger consciousness is veiled to the fragment to which you currently have access.”
Ted rolled this concept around in his head. So, he figured, we are not being shown the bigger picture. This so-called higher consciousness was being kept from humans. His next question seemed painfully obvious.
“Why?” Ted asked.
The tall whites paused, as if wondering if they should answer this second question.
“It’s just not time for you yet,” one ultimately offered. Sensing Ted’s disappointment with this answer, and yet appreciating his sense of etiquette in not pursuing the issue further, the closer tall white offered him one small insight in consolation:
“Consider the caterpillar,” he said. “Do you think, after it has eaten its fill as a caterpillar and begins to construct its chrysalis, it knows that it is about to become a butterfly? Or do you think it feels that its life as a caterpillar is over and therefore it begins constructing its own funeral shroud?”
“It seals itself up, and goes into a deep sleep,” the second offered, picking up on the analogy. “It is quite incapable of knowing that in a matter of days, it will re-emerge, its physical form changed to one that has a new perspective provided by its newfound ability to fly. One could say that it moves from two dimensions into three.”
“Once could say the caterpillar is dead,” concluded the first, “or that it has been reborn into a new reality.”
The group stood silently for a moment, lost to their own thoughts.
It was Nate who finally broke the silence.
“Like Jesus!” he said. The whole group could almost feel a physical wince from the two entities before them.
“Yes,” one of them said. “I suppose, if that helps.”
Nate continued his pursuit of religious connection. “I wonder what caterpillars think of butterflies,” he said. “Do they know what they are, or are they scared shitless of them when they see them?”
Ted fought the urge to ask Nate if the disciples had been scared shitless of the resurrected Jesus, but the notion was lost to a new question.
“Are you scared shitless of us?” asked one of the tall whites.
“Yeah!” Nate blurted out. “I mean, when I first saw you, you’re damn right I was scared. I mean, look at you! No offense, but you were like nothing I’d ever seen before.”
“And now?” asked the second.
“Now,” Nate nodded his head at them, as if sizing them up. “Now, I think you’re pretty alright.”
“As are you,” said the first tall white. “For a limited consciousness, anyway.”
Ted wondered if Nate would take offense at this final remark, but he did not. No one did. It seemed after working in this unique environment, having access to some of the most guarded knowledge on Earth, everyone was OK with the fact that they were still learning. So were the higher entities, and they would be the first to admit it. The small group parted company peacefully, and the tall whites returned to their level of the complex. Later that night, when they had the generators running again and power had been restored, Ted sat alone in his room, running that conversation over in his mind. He thought about Nate’s question about caterpillars seeing butterflies, and the tall white’s reply:
Are you scared shitless of us?
He thought about what CMS Schiff had said to him before he went to the middle grounds – that these entities never say anything that doesn’t carry a deeper meaning. “Pay attention – pay close attention,” had been the last thing Schiff had told him.
Now he couldn’t shake the question in his mind, a question that hadn’t occurred to him until after their encounter. And he found himself wishing that the tall whites were there now to answer it.