posted on Jul, 8 2009 @ 12:19 PM
Part three: Sword of Damocles
The collective gained much ground in the weeks and months beyond the day it began. People watched in horror as satellites burned in the atmosphere
above them. In the early days of their revolution, when the electricity still worked, the news reported that all the country’s nuclear assets were
rendered useless. The cores on all the reactors and weapons had turned to lead. There was no trace of radiation. All the experts argued that it was
the little known Indigo revolution that was predicted by some people to be coming. This was the case around the world. Soon after this phenomenon
conventional weapons no longer worked. Propellants and explosives had turned to sand. Everyone had been warned not to approach the Indigos. They
meant the people who seemed to be motionless and smiling like statues with their own personal gardens growing around them. The body count was
I learned to survive by watching. I watched in morbid fascination as group after group of angry people marched toward what they believed was the
source of unrest. A lone Indigo man who stood by a newspaper vending machine with a pile of little stones arranged in a figure eight on top of it.
Flowers and vines crept up through the asphalt and concrete and made it look like a shrine of sorts. Complete with a heavenly glow that was
perceptible even in the daylight. Whole groups would collapse. Soon though, there was silence all around.
I remember coming across a few survivors like myself. We had hugged and exchanged stories of horror. We all knew not to approach those people who
started the revolution. As we learned to work together and form friendships we cleared bodies and set up a perimeter. We began to work on a plan to
take back control. I hadn’t counted on the Indigos becoming even stronger.
You see, early on, it was ok to talk about smashing them with a bat or yes even stabbing them. None of us could really do that but we talked about it
all the same. I remember one man saying that he couldn’t wait to take revenge for his wife who fell victim to them at her job. The more he talked
the angrier he would get. I watched him calmly and let him vent. At one particular moment, when he looked at me, he said he would wipe that stupid
smile off their faces with his fist pumping in front of him. It was at that moment that his eyes became wide. His fist slowly unclenched and he
fell. I realized that the Indigos were now hearing the thoughts of people who had ill intent toward them. It wasn’t enough to just stay away from
them anymore. I adjusted my tactics.
I began forcing all thoughts of revenge out of my mind. I had to accept what was happening and accept what had happened. I had to or I would die. I
realized my theory was correct by seeing even more survivors collapse as they talked about what they were going to do to the Indigos. I remained
silent about what I had uncovered because I was afraid that telling someone would jeopardize my life. I was being corralled as it were and I knew it,
but I went along all the same. I had to survive.
Soon it was just me and a kind old fellow named Justin. We understood how to survive. Justin and I knew without saying a word. We knew we were the
only hope and we clung to our lives. Justin and I would go about our daily routine of gathering food and water without talking. We would look at
each other and just know what the other was saying. We would confirm it with a smile. I was starting to worry that Justin had become too absorbed
with acceptance of our situation. He seemed to enjoy our day to day mundane existence. This was fine with me. Oh it was fine and I entertained no
ill intent toward anything. It was great.
I remember the day I lost Justin. He was still sleeping when I woke up. I was thirsty and realized that our water container was empty. I strolled
down the sidewalk and found a car that we hadn’t used yet and inserted our siphoning tube into its gas tank. Oh, I haven’t told you that yet.
All the worlds gasoline and petroleum had been turned into pure drinking water. That was fine with me. Just grand actually. How wonderful! That
had happened about three days into the revolution.
I filled our container and made my way back up the stairs to our home. Justin was still lying in the bed. I drank some water and waited for Justin
to stir. He never moved that day. When I finally checked him he was dead. In horror I realized that the Indigos were now reading dreams. That had
to be fine with me. It was fine. It was great actually. No ill intent here, just acceptance. I had to survive.
My sleep now is not actually sleep. I lie on the bed and concentrate on love and acceptance, never letting myself slip under the blissful relief of
rem sleep. I am awake and aware of things but at the same time I feel as if I’m getting the rest I need. I am becoming mentally exhausted but I
know I must endure.
On one of my excursions through a few houses I remember seeing a compound bow mounted to the wall of a garage. The moment I saw it I realized the
implications but I couldn’t think it. I turned away from it as if I had done something shameful. I couldn’t go there. Not yet. No ill intent
here. Just love. I had to become stronger.
It took some time for me to even look at the bow. There were days that I would walk back to it and never even look at the wall where it was hung. I
knew where it was but I couldn’t look at it. Not yet. I would just stand there concentrating. I was soon able to stand close to it and even look
at it. Soon enough I was able to touch it. It was nothing at all really. It was just a stick with some string. No ill intent here. Just love.
A long time had passed before I was able to gather up the quiver full of arrows that accompanied the bow. You see they were nothing either. Just
some sticks with points and that was all. No ill intent. Just love. The two of them together meant nothing. Nothing at all. I was becoming
stronger. I had purpose.
More time passed, how much, I do not know. All my energy was being used to accept the bow and arrow as nothing really. I began target practice a
while later. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just putting sticks into the side of a shed and they looked lovely. That was all. No ill intent. It
was just something to do. My tactics were working because I was still alive and I had purpose.