Duality part one E-Book

Roger Gilomen

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 523

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In every culture, the origin of life is attributed to a creator. But what happens when time no longer plays a role? The journey we take is unimaginably long. The beginning and end of our earthly lives do not mean the beginning and end of our being. In the universe, the malicious being Aton strives for infinity by leaving the natural order to plunge the universe into entropy. Its influence extends from its home planet Dillimus to Earth, where Aleyna, a refugee from Dillimus, stands against it. A captivating adventure unfolds in which good and evil merge and the way we look at life is changed. Immerse yourself in this epic adventure that challenges beliefs and reawakens hope!

Leseprobe

PROLOG

In all religions and cultures, the beginning of life is attributed to creation by a Creator. In order for a living being to develop further, it must evolve through an expansion of consciousness. In the universe here, there are seven stages of consciousness that you can go through until you finally arrive back at creation, from which life will ultimately emerge again.

1st stage

The lowest, first level of consciousness harbors a carefree life. It is survival consciousness and is limited to the fulfillment of basic needs such as food, sleep and security. At this level, we live for ourselves and indulge our immediate urges. Like animals in the wild, which give free rein to their concerns and pursue simple urges. Like pets that sniff each other's behinds to get to know each other, but also like the simple thug who, blinded, pursues his rage after a provocation. No long temporal connections can be formed, one is not able to get involved spiritually. A primitive, almost hedonic attitude to life with limited patterns of behavior. Not a bad way of life, because the chance of bliss is always 50 percent. You either chase or are chased, deal or take. Partnership connectivity is also broken down into this pattern and there is only pious lust and pure aversion.

2nd stage

This is followed by the twilight state. The brain is now able to determine a social process and comply with it. Behavior is questioned and evaluated at a deeper level. The collective consciousness of one's peers is seen as a yardstick and only hesitantly questions their inconsistencies. The fact that one is capable of having a thought for other living beings at all is already the entire variability. Patterns conditioned by the environment are appropriated and expanded, one recognizes and carries on. The partnership connection exists, but is limited to outward appearances and only goes into minimal, spiritual depths.

3rd stage

The emotional aspect emerges for the first time. The initially developed ego discovers its resounding echo. Through the social view, the consciousness compares itself with other living beings and one becomes increasingly thoughtful. There is an escape into an orderly, conservative life without resistance, which increasingly manifests itself in the mind. There are only isolated attempts to break out emotionally and then only with an insidious sense of guilt. The rules seem clear and any kind of deviationis associated with negative aspects. Work acts as the driving force, being a member of society is the highest good. Social prestige is the worker's reward. The rare flashes of emotion mean that thinking is influenced by superficial feelings. Partnerships often end in dislike and hatred, as the bond is so emotionally charged that one partner automatically seeks an emotional outburst, even screams for one. The relationship focuses on the other person's possessions and grants themhardly any freedom. Both parties are expected to lead the same life and make the same decisions, which in most cases results in failure.

4th stage

It is only in the fourth level of consciousness that the mental level emerges and is shaped by it. Curiosity grows and the limitation to social norms is no longer sufficient for the mind. These behaviors are increasingly questioned and new paths are opened up. A critical distance to current ways of thinking develops. The mind begins to rise and one sees things detached from any social patterns. Decisions are made independently of religious or family influences and the principle of karma is increasingly discovered. There is a realization that good deeds are followed by equally good events.Even from an altruistic point of view, it is increasingly desirable to provoke good deeds and the positive events that accompany them.Spirituality also comes to the fore in the loving relationship and you try to find yourself mentally, even to function on a different level. The partner's desire for possession gradually fades away and you slowly begin to recognize and respect the freedoms that are being claimed. Free will is central in this phase, and even if the decisions do not always follow those of society , the partner accepts the respective decision almost completely. This stage is very demanding and most living beings will never overcome it. At this level of consciousness is the fork between two paths, good and evil, as intended by creation.

Jewish mysticism describes the ascent to even higher levels of consciousness. It can be found in the Merkaba literature and, as the name suggests, a Merkaba is required to conquer these levels, which in ancient Hebrew is a description of the throne chariot of thebiblical vision of Ezekiel. Depicted with two large, ancient chariot wheels, which flow into each other and thus appear spherical and move in a rotating motion.Every being has this soul within them, but does not always know how to activate it;activation takes place with the knowledge gained about duality, the knowledge of the balance between good and evil. By internalizing love, a natural, powerful Merkaba can emerge and the orderly path of creation can be followed up to the last, seventh level of consciousness. When you reach this level, you become a creating self and a new cycle begins. However, if you choose evil from the fourth stage onwards and feed the hatred within yourself, this path to the seventh stage will dry up and only other, artificially created paths will be available. Once the loop of love is cut off, it is no longer possible to activate a natural Merkaba and the soul is condemned to follow the path of evil for eternity.

Not so long ago, a creature called Aton decided to follow this path of evil. On his gaseous home planet of Dillimus in the Milky Way, he lived as the supreme ruler of the Kurs population. Aton was the most intelligent being ever created and was generated by the first divine creation. Early on, he recognized the need to pass through the seven stages of consciousness in order to become like the divine creation itself and achieve creative power. However, he did not want to accept that he could never become better than this power and therefore began to search for another way to one day reach a higher level and overcome the cycle of the seven levels.

As he had chosen the dark path, it was no longer possible for him to create an organic, natural Merkaba made of love. Instead, he planned to build an artificial Merkaba with the help of occult techniques at. Using digital advancements and occult geometry, he attempted to create an artificial energy field that would require an extreme energy source and must be kept stable long enough. Once this artificial Merkaba unfolds, the inhabitants will have their souls stolen and sent to the creator, which would give him enormous power. With this newly acquired source of energy, it would be possible for him to break through the boundaries of consciousness and grow beyond the seven levels. However, as performing this ritual would mean the complete destruction or regression to the first level of consciousness for the surrounding living beings and facilities, he was unable to erect an artificial Merkaba on his home planet of Dillimus.

Driven by unthinkable rage and filled with barely comprehensible hatred, he therefore sought to expand to other planets in the Milky Way. Together with his brother Enki and his sister Ninhursaq, he was able to invent a fermion drive with the help of the artificially created intelligence Anu, which enabled him to travel in a subatomic quantum network. This enabled him to cover distances of several light years in a matter of seconds, so he set his sights on all the planets in the galaxy where he could finally carry out his project.

CHAPTER 1

RICK CERRONE

HUMANITY

July 2010

San Francisco International Airport

I was in love, marriedand well on my way to starting my own family. It was in 2010 when, at the young age of 28, I had gone on vacation to Vietnam with my beloved wife Heather and a befriended couple, Sam and Natasha. We had known them for a very long time and from experience we had no differences, otherwise we would not have chosen to spend two weeks together on our hard-won vacation. We both worked as letter carriers and had also got to know each other at work. The whole journey had been ideally planned and we had subsisted mainly on alcohol, always in a silky cloud of comfort mixed with a little levity and contentment. When we arrived and checked in, the women wanted to set up the rooms and get some rest. Me and Sam took the chance, rented a typical Asian scooter and went for a cold Vietnamese beer. Well, we didn't stop at one beer, but we didn't stay there for long. We knew that our wives had various expectations of us and were probably hoping for a cozy dinner. For this reason, we quickly made our way back to the hotel. As the traffic rules in Vietnam are not too strict and we were also drunk, we had a really amusing drive back.

When we arrived and parked the scooters, we saw Vietnamese police cars and lots of policemen everywhere. I immediately felt sick to my stomach and Sam and I had a bad feeling. However, I noticed that Sam had become much more nervous than I was, which made my uneasy feeling even worse. We hadn't even been able to enter the lobby before a couple of police officers had moved in our direction, shouting "Passport! Passport!". They pointed their guns at us and came closer and closer. We couldn't even point out that our passports had been deposited at reception as a result of the ongoing check-in and we were already being pushed to the floor and our wrists handcuffed. We looked at each other and I was shocked to see that Sam was certain of something. He didn't resist and resigned after just a few seconds, while I gave in to my first instincts and resisted. But when I saw the certainty in his eyes, I froze and could no longer defend myself either. An icy cold shiver ran down my spine and choked the air in my lungs, causing me to cough softly.

The policemen straightened us up and pushed us towards two bungalows. In front of these bungalows were our wives, also handcuffed, crying and looking hopefully at us. Various small sculptures were laid out on the veranda, one of which had been broken open and a white bag was clearly sticking out. Sam didn't even make eye contact with me and hardly paid any attention to his wife. He just looked down at the floor in shame and let everything happen to him. He didn't answer any questions and again radiated a resigned indifference. I, on the other hand, kept asking about the reason for the apparent arrest and also tried to calm my beloved and distracted wife. The policemen kept shouting "Thuoc!" in between and pushed us around very harshly. When the policemen realizedthat we couldn't understand them, they put us all separately in their police buses. I shouted my wife's name the whole time, but could only watch helplessly as she was taken away crying. Sam didn't even raise his head and his wife tried unsuccessfully to make eye contact with him. The whole drive felt like we were going through a weeks-long journey, all the recent impressions of the whole arrest kept flashing through my mind, at the same time I stared weakly out of the window watching the goings-on. But as the adrenaline slowly faded, the thoughts came together and a clear picture emerged. I knew we had been caught with a lot of drugs in those lined up statues. It dawned on me that Sam's reaction could only mean that he was aware of these drugs and had felt caught out and embarrassed. On the one hand, this reassured me a little, but on the other, it made me feel nervous. Images of my wife crying kept flashing through my mind and the adrenaline quickly flared up again, my heart raced at times and I felt myself getting paler, followed by a heat rising from my whole body. When we arrived, I was harshly dragged out of the car and pushed into a cell full of Vietnamese people. I kept asking what was going on and where my wife was, but never received an answer to my questions. Fortunately, the other inmates ignored me and I even found a place to sit down. After a while, I recognized a western face in front of the bars calling my name: "Mr. Cerrone, Rick Cerrone."

"Yes?" I replied in a watery and unclear voice. "I'm Richard West from the American embassy in Hanoi. Unfortunately, I had to travel seven hours by train here to Na Thrang and there were various roadworks, which slowed the train down massively, I'm really very sorry."

"What am I being accused of?" I continued to ask him in a shaky voice, ignoring hisattempt at a small talk.He bowed his head, took a deep breath and exhaled again, then replied: "You're in real trouble Mr. Cerrone. You've been caught with five kilograms of cocaine."

"Where is my wife?" I answered spontaneously and again ignored what was said. "She's in a solitary cell here in this provincial prison in Nha Trang. Her two friends, Mr. Ceronne, are already at the embassy in Hanoi," the ambassador added. I was taken aback and had already forgotten about my concerns for my wife and asked indignantly: "Why are they already at the embassy in Hanoi while I and my wife are still stuck here in a prison?" He snorted deeply again and drew in the air like cigarette smoke: "The drugs, Mr. Cerrone, the drugs! After all, they were found on you, you know that, don't you?"

"What drugs?" I asked with a slightly raised voice. "I wasn't carrying any drugs and I'd never seen these figures at the arrest before." He shook his head gently and slowly and replied, "Your friend Sam confessed to us, Mr. Ceronne, he confessed everything to us." I was overcome with relief and replied: "Then everything's fine, why are he and his wife out again and I'm not?" I asked conscientiously.

"He confessed that you had informed him to smuggle drugs into the country. He confessed to knowing about it and not saying anything about it, but he clearly assigned them to you." I became increasingly silent and had to sit down again. My legs were getting weak and cold sweat was running down my forehead: "What did he say?", I asked again completely overwhelmed. "He really blamed me? I had nothing to do with it, you have to believe me Mr. West!" He looked cautiously from left to right and replied in a low voice: "It doesn't matter what I think, you're in serious trouble, Rick, very serious indeed. You can only save yourself or your wife.Either you confess and take all the blame, or you incriminate your wife with the accusations."

I scratched my modest goatee and asked: "What about Sam? He did it, I had nothing to do with it. Why can't I incriminate him?"

"They found the drugs in your luggage, with your fingerprints, mixed in with your clothes, Rick, that's clear to the authorities here," he replied to my question straight away. "You had an extra piece of luggage and have been watched since you passed through the airport." Puzzled, I asked: "Then why weren't we sorted out and checked directly at the airport?"

"They wanted to know who the contact man in the country was, but when you left the hotel without drugs, they had to strike early," the ambassador said and added: "Give yourself a few more minutes, the authorities will need your statement in half an hour." I sat down and cried, slowly realizing that I was really in a lot of trouble. But when the last endorphins were released with the tears and gave me some clarity, I decided to make a confession.My first intention was to relieve my beloved wife and lull her into a sense of security.

After a good two hours, the police officers came and took me to an interrogation room. Ambassador West was also waiting there and greeted me in a very quiet voice. Most of his head was lowered and I became nervous again. A well-dressed officer, who stood out from the usual police officers, came into the room and had a sheet of paper ready. "Here, sign this and your wife can go," the officer ordered me, slapping the paper on the table in front of me. "It's clear, you did it and you alone can take the blame," he added dryly. I looked questioningly at the ambassador, but he nodded very slowly and looked at the signature field. The whole sheet was written in vietnamese and I didn't know what I had to sign. Nevertheless, I signed the paper in the hope that my wife would be fine. I then asked the ambassador whether I would be provided with a lawyer or what would happen to me now. He simply pulled down the corners of his mouth and replied: "By signing this paper, you will no longer need a lawyer. You will be provided with a lawyer, but he will only follow the case law and make sure that you are not punished even more severely and, above all, unjustly." It slowly dawned on me that I would probably be behind bars for a long time. For this reason, I asked the superior officer: "How long will I have to go behind bars, sir?" He looked down at me with disdain and replied: "At least 15 years and in the worst case you'll be executed, sir." My breath caught and I was increasingly hyperventilating inside, but I tried to appear calm and added: "But it was only drugs, I didn't commit murder, the drugs weren't even mine." Ambassador West stepped in for the policeman and answered me directly: "In Vietnam, drugs are worse than violence, Rick, you must expect to be punished severely for your actions. I don't think you will be executed, but expect to leave the country as an old man, that will make it easier for everyone involved."

"Easier?" I shouted at him, "it's easier for everyone else, but I certainly won't have it easy. Put yourself in my shoes, I've done nothing wrong and I have to spend an eternity in a prison where I can't even speak the language." He looked at me for a long time and said nothing. Then he snorted from his slightly crooked nose and said, "We're trying our best, Rick, we're trying to get you back to the States so you can serve and finish your sentence there, but that's all I can do for you and it's getting more and moredifficult to makedealslike this with the authorities. You know the history between us Americans and the Vietnamese. What I can tell you with certainty is that this will not happen before the next five years. Be prepared for some jail time here in Vietnam." I couldn't muster the strength to answer or ask any more questions, so I turned inward and fell silent. The policeman knocked on the door and called for his colleagues in Vietnamese. They came into the room and took me back to the cell.

Two weeks later, August 2010

I was sentenced to 24 years in Hao Lo prison in Hanoi. The judge assured me that this was an excellent sentence for me and that I had just escaped death. But it didn't feel that way, because I only had the number 24 in my head and calculated that I would leave this country as a 52-year-old man. At least I was placed in a single cell, although the reason for this was not really amusing. "The other inmates would kill you, Mr. Cerrone, so we will put you in solitary confinement to begin with," the judge told me in a low voice. I was given an extremely dark cell with no windows, but with a toilet made of chrome steel. Every day, food was placed in my cell twice and I was given supervised access to the yard. Every day for an hour, after which I went straight back into the cell and had to keep myself busy. The first three weeks didn't pass, it seemed to me that years had already gone by. My psyche became increasingly unstable and I often had to cry for no real reason. I didn't even know what had happened to my wife and friends, and I associated thoughts of my friends with great hatred.

Six months later, February 2011

When I was already resignedly lingering in the cell, an officer clapped his baton on the cell door and dryly informed me that I had a visitor. I had to stand with my back to the door and push my two hands clasped together into the small opening, where I was then handcuffed. They led me through the whole prison and I could see the size of the institution for the first time. When I was brought inside, I couldn't really take this in due to nerves. I was taken into what was probably the cleanest room in the institution, which was obviously the visiting room. There, my beautiful wife looked at me with tears and obvious anger in her eyes. I didn't even mind the tears and anger, I was just glad to see a familiar face and hurried with long strides to the plexiglass partition and picked up the old telephone receiver. "I've missed you so much my darling, how are you?" I said and asked her directly without greeting her. She took a deep breath and sobbed: "Fine, thank you. I'm fine. How are you?" she asked in a broken voice. I felt a deep pain inside me and replied: 'Fine under the circumstances, thank you. But it's hell on earth here, I'm so lonely and the days just don't go by. I miss you so much, it makes everything so much worse." Without responding to my statements, she asked me harshly: "Why, baby, why did you do that? We were fine and we had so many plans. Ambassador West told me that you got a total of 24 years. What were you thinking?" At this point, I almost couldn't look her in the eyes and I was overcome with shame. Despite this, I pulled myself together and saidin a firm voice: "It wasn't me, Heather, it wasn't me. It was Sam who smuggled the drugs and he didn't tell me." She shook her head pointedly and replied: "Sam told me everything. He told me that you filled him in and asked him not to tell me. That day we were arrested, a world fell apart for me. I was so scared, you can't imagine."

"You were scared?" I replied in a loud voice, holding the phone to the back of my neck. "I've been locked up in a Vietnamese prison for more than six months and you say you're scared? I can't describe to you what I've been through and how I've felt at times, but you can believe me, it's fucking hell in here." She bowed her head and said: "After all, it was your fault. What made you think you could smuggle so many drugs into a country like this, did you feel you could get away with it?" I had to take a deep breath before I could answer: "It wasn't me, it was Sam. He screwed me over and put me on the knife. Where do you think I got the separate suitcase from, didn't you ever notice that I only ever had one suitcase with me?" Heather thought for a few seconds and replied: "You had two suitcases checked in and it was your second suitcase." I hadn't even thought about it that far, my anger towards Sam was so huge that I couldn't deal with it yet. But the scales fell from my eyes and I said to Heather: "I had left Sam my second suitcase the night before departure and he persuaded me to check it in on top of me."

"Why would he do that and why did you do it without asking any questions?" she replied harshly. I didn't have to think for long because it dawned on me immediately and I continued my explanation: "He had said at check-in that this was my suitcase and if it got lost, it would come to my house. I hadn't thought anything of it, we'd been in the bar beforehand and I was abit drunk. But the contents weren't mine and I hadn't asked him about them."

"I'm sorry, my darling," she replied immediately, "but I just can't believe you. It just doesn't make sense to me." "It doesn't make sense to you?" I asked her, puzzled. "You can't..." She cut me short and added: "It doesn't matter anymore, Rick. I can't trust you anymore. There were five kilos of cocaine in that suitcase and you're going to be here for over 20 years. What do you expect from me?" Hurt, I paused and could only reply weakly: "I know, my dear, I know. But I'll think of something, please be patient a little longer." She closed her eyes, bowed her head and said, "I can't wait that long, Rick. I'm really sorry. So I can forget everything, I'm going to move out and into a smaller appartment. I've cleared out our apartment and put your things in storage. You can go to the storage facility when you get out and pick up your things there. The storage is free, I know the owner, Ralph. You know, Ralph from next door. He always thought so much of you and he'll keep the stuff for you. I'm really sorry, I have to go now, I can't stay here anymore, it's just hitting me too hard." I couldn't say anything else, I just had tears streaming down my face and I hung up the phone without a word. Heather stood up, held her left hand to the glass and said goodbye to me, forever.

Four years later, February 2015

Meanwhile, I was put in a general cell with other inmates. They called me "The white mossy frog", a local, ugly frog, because I looked different from all the other inmates. So far I've survived reasonably well, I've only been beaten down twiceand stabbed once, what a record. When I first moved into my new cell, I was beaten up badly, as a kind of welcome. The second time, I fought over the only good food in this shitty institution. On the last Thursday of every month, we had vegetarian spring rolls, which were really tasty. Unfortunately, after this fight, I was no longer able to enjoy my victorious food and had given it to the weakest inmate. But as I had won the fight, I knew what to expect. First I was put in a hole for two weeks, where the conditions were even more precarious than they already were in this facility. But when I was released, the losers of the fight had picked me up from behind and stabbed me in the shoulders with a beveled toothbrush. I fell to the ground and was then kicked until I lost consciousness. I spent three weeks in the asylum's hospital and had to recover for a long time. This hospital was a bit outside the residential wing and I noticed that the security measures were much less than in the main building. There were only three doors separating me from the outside area, where I was taken on arrival in the transport buses. As I had to spend another 20 years in this hellhole, I only had one thing on my mind, an escape.

I thought about the best way to do this and had been looking for opportunities throughout my stay at the hospital. I had noticed that renovation work was taking place on the outside of the hospital wing during my stay. Even if the word renovation was a bit of an exaggeration, at least something was being repaired and it looked like it was going to stay that way for a while. There was a large ladder in the courtyard and behind it was just a fence with barbed wire. So all I had to do was get to the outside area, grab the ladder and jump over the walls. Then I had to get over the fence somehow and get away. I didn't know exactly where the prison was geographically, but I would find a way, I thought. My biggest problem was that I would be released here shortly and I had to get back to the hospital somehow.

Four weeks later, March 2015

Since my discharge from hospital, I had made a plan to return to the hospital. I had collected various cockroaches, bought a jar and kept these critters as pets. I talked to them all day long and acted like a crazy inmate. I had already noticed for five days that two guards were watching me and wondering about me. I took advantage of this and whenever the focus was on me, I acted creepy. I regularly cut myself with broken glass and sang while doing so, then painted the cockroaches with the blood. One day, a guard, who seemed to have dyed his hair blonde under his cap, spoke to me and asked me if everything was all right. I spontaneously started laughing loudly and nodding, smashed the whole jar in my face, collected the cockroaches with my mouth and ate them in front of him. Bleeding, I started screaming and laughing, regardless of the pain that assaulted me. During the action, I was amazed that I had even been capable of such a crazy act. But once I realized his panic and amazement, it motivated me more and more, and I started humming uncontrollably loudly and continuing to beat myself with clenched fists. I picked up the shards and scratched my arms again, looking at him with a fixed gaze at the same time. The guard turned around, jumped towards the exit and fetched his supervisor. After about half an hour, aman in a white coat came in, watched me and signaled to the guards to take me out of the cell. They took me to the hospital again for medical treatment and then took me to a hospital room. I knew that I had overcome the first hurdle and turned my attention to the second step of getting out.

After a day, two people in white coats came into my room to examine me. They asked me things in English, but I didn't answer them. I made signs that I was having trouble breathing and wanted to go outside. They had looked at each other and nodded. Then they had called the guards, who escorted me outside. I thought the plan was going to go completely wrong, but the guards had retreated back into the hospital wing after a rude shove outside. So there I was, all alone in the outside area. There were only two workmen on site, which immediately prompted me to take the third step - the ladder. Unfortunately for me, this ladder was stored in a separate, partially closed shelter, but I could see it through a small window. Getting it out of the shelter and over the wall would be a piece of cake. But I still had to have a blanket or sweater that I could throw over the barbed wire once I was outside the walls. But as I didn't see any other chance, I put all my eggs in one basket and sneaked into the shelter without any further preparation. The workmen didn't notice me and were busy masonry work. The scorching heat was unbearable and made them wear a scarf over their hats so that they no longer had peripheral vision. I actually got to that ladder, saw another stained painter's ceiling and grabbed both things. I rushed outside and put the ladder on, jumped down over the wall and banged my ankle. It hurtterribly, but I pulled myself together and hobbled off towards the fence. When I got to the fence, I threw the painting blanket over the barbed wire and climbed over it. I was actually free and jumped off, full of adrenaline. I was jubilant as I sped up and forgot about the pain in my ankle that I had suffered when I jumped.

After about 20 minutes, I slowed down and sirens sounded from far away. They seemed to have noticed the outbreak. Immediately after these sounds, I was overcome by a sinking feeling in my stomach and I inevitably picked up the pace again. I had to hide somewhere and, above all, I wanted to change my clothes. I would have been an easy target for the police in my prison clothes. I jumped towards the Red River of Hanoi, hoping to find some kind of boat that could take me out of the country. I crossed the last busy street and arrived at a building labeled "Hair Salon Duong Black", which appeared to be empty. I picked up a medium-sized stone, smashed the smallest window and went inside. It was an abandoned hair salon that had been left half full. Maybe it was just run down, which didn't matter to me in the end. As I already had longer hair and a beard, I had to change my appearance somehow. I decided to shave the beard completely, picked up a leftover razor blade and started shaving. As the blade was blunt and covered in rust, I cut most of my face. I continued to shave anyway and covered the wounds with Vaseline. I had washed my hair and straightened it with an equally rusty straightening iron. Then there was a brown dress on the wall, which was a bit too small for me. Nevertheless, I squeezed myself into this dress and did my hair like a woman. As I was covered in scars on my face from my psycho action in prison, I wrapped a silk-likescarf around my face and left the salon. I headed south, where I had seen large boats from afar. I thought I just had to get on one of these boats and then I would be a free man. As I passed the "Jenny Shop", a cosmetics store, I ran into a man who had been waiting next to the entrance. I raised my head and apologized to this gentleman in a low voice. It sent shivers down my spine when I realized that I had actually seen this guy before. He had dyed blond hair and looked very stern. It was the guard from the prison who had admitted me to hospital. He was in the cosmetics store with his wife and had been waiting for her outside. What bloody bad luck. At first, the guard scolded me uninterestedly, but I could tell from his wide-open slit eyes with very dilated pupils that he had recognized me. I immediately jumped off and wanted to make my way to the boats in double quick time. But the guard didn't have long to wait and immediately took up the chase. He kept shouting "GiÚlây anh ta", which probably meant "Stop him!". When I glanced back once, a normal civilian hit me in the face with his elbow, causing me to fall. A few moments later, I could already see the blue lights on the horizon and the snorting guard had already reached me. He immediately punched me until the police finally arrived and took me back to prison.

Ten years and three months later, June 2025

Unfortunately, Ambassador West's promise to bring me back to the States came to nothing. At the latest after my escape attempt 10 years ago, the basis for the negotiation really went down the drain. After my return to prison, I had to spend a whole six months in the hole, where I almost lost my mind. To be honestI would rather spend another 10 years in prison than go back to that shitty hole. This hole wasn't just any normal hole, it was so small that I could barely sit down, my knees scraped against the walls every time and I got constant cramps that hurt so bad that I fainted at times. I was also so bored that I started talking to myself at length. I thought I was really having conversations, which in retrospect seemed quite scary. I kept dreaming about it and was even afraid of my own personalities. For the entire duration of my stay, I felt as if a gray veil was constantly enveloping me and holding me captive in slow motion. Any sunlight that shone through the dilapidated walls hurt my eyes like hell and in the evening these holes were covered with a stinking mortar. The guards checked every evening that I didn't get any sunlight and that the condition remained at an unbearable level. I lost a part of myself in this hole, the part that still made me happy. Since then, for the whole 10 years, I hadn't even managed to smile normally. I also lost all hope of redemption and had then fully committed myself to prison. I had regular tattoos and took martial arts lessons from an inmate. I went from beinga 'white mossy frog' to a 'white lion'. I was respected and had to hold various fights in the prison. People were now more afraid of me than I was of them. It's crazy how much difference charisma makes and what it means to continuously radiate self-confidence.

By now I only had four fingers on my left hand. About four years ago, I had to change cells and, for some inexplicable reason, ended up in a completely new cell with new inmates. Funnily enough, it was the inmates I was at war with.I had to fight three of these inmatesfor my new bed on my firstmove and finally got it. But this came at a price - when I tried not to succumb to sleep on the first evening despite my wounds, I fell into a deep sleep anyway. When I woke up, two bastards were sitting on my legs and two other bastards were tying my hands to the bedposts with shoelaces. The ugliest fatso in the cell, smelling of cod liver oil, was sitting on me and laughing in my face with his disgusting bad breath. He had a thin, blunt kitchen knife in his hand and gently slashed my cheek. He then got off me, laughed loudly out into the cell corridors and cut off my little finger on my left hand. I screamed like a banshee and was stabbed three times in the stomach and twice in the legs before the guards noticed and rushed to my aid. They beat the culprit so hard that he soon died as a result. A pity really, because I wanted to see the last breath of his miserable life rise from his fat body. I spent a full and painful three months in hospital as I suffered a bad case of sepsis after a short recovery period. The hospital ward wasn't exactly a palace and I could count the bugs with both hands every day, so given the circumstances, this sepsis was only a matter of time.

As I had to appear before the criminal court again after my return from the hole, I knew that I would spend much longer in this hellish prison than I had previously thought. The judges extended my sentence by a total of five more horrible years. I had stopped counting the days some time ago and was simply waiting for my release, but to be honest I didn't expect it at all.

After a total of 10 years since my escape attempt, I was visited by a new ambassador, Jonathan Smith, who had been in post for about three years. It was the first visit since the last visit from my wife Heather, who was now my ex-wife. A long time ago I had received a letter in which the divorce was announced by the American court. By this time I didn't care anymore, I was so numb that I was able to completely block it out. Somehow I had developed an unfounded hatred because she had let me down. Of course, it wasn't her fault, but it wasn't mine either, and that was what made meangry with Heather. As this was of no great benefit, these emotions disappeared in a flash. To my astonishment, the ambassador invited me into a nice, clean interrogation room. Funnily enough, I was taken there on an old bus, so this room could not have been part of the institution, which surprised me greatly at the time. Deep down, I had a strange, positive feeling and was unusually nervous, like I hadn't been for a long time. I didn't even know I was capable of such feelings anymore. Ambassador Smith hadn't beat around the bush and said, "Mr. Cerrone, you're free." I was not sure if I hadn't misheard, so I just shook my head slightly. "What do you mean, free?" I replied in a low, fluttery voice. I noticed how both corners of his mouth turned upwards and his gloomy eyes radiated joy. He nodded in quick up and down movements and said again: "You're free and can leave prison today, Rick! I can call you Rick, can't I?" For some unknown reason, it occurred to me at this point that old Ambassador West also called me by my first name after a few sentences and I had never realized it. For whatever reason I had such thoughts, but my heart began to pound violently and I couldn't get a word out of my drymouth. "What do you say, Rick?" he asked again. I just shook my head and said, "Yes, of course."

"What do you mean by 'yes, of course'?" he asked incredulously. "Of course you can call me Rick, I haven't been called that for more than 15 years," I said, ignoring the gist of his sentence. There was a brief silence and the ambassador slowly lost his amusement and continued: "Don't you enjoy being released, or how should I understand that?" I just hunched my shoulders and said in a very calm voice: "Where am I supposed to go and what am I supposed to do? I have nothing left in the United States of America, no wife, no job, nothing at all, Jonathan, I can call you Jonathan, can't I?"

"It's like this," the ambassador continued, also ignoring my irrelevant question about his name. "You're going to get a lot of money, Rick. You'll be a rich man." He straightened up a little more vertically, slid to the front of the chair and looked deep into my eyes. "We found recordings of your former friend Sam Walters. These recordings showed that Sam was planning to take cocaine to Vietnam to a certain Chok Sun. We had been observing him for the last two years and were finally able to arrest him for other offenses. We then found footage from surveillance videos we had made ourselves in 2015 in his home. I then contacted the authorities in Vietnam and made representations to the court. Now you have been released early and will receive compensation totalling five million US dollars, isn't that great?" I wasn't interested in the money at the time, I was more surprised that I should be so happy, even though I had already spent 15 years in hell. "Thank you, but why do I get so much money from the Vietnamese authorities, they hardly care?" I asked him, puzzled. He smiled slightly and replied: "Most of the money comes from us.It has been proven that my predecessor, Mr. West, was also involved in this story and that the United States was just as much to blame for your misery." I smiled gently, probably for the first time in so many years, and just kept quiet.

When the prison transport delivered me to the airport, I was given some cash in my hand and a bank card with the relevant access data. I was released from the vehicle without much ado and was finally able to board a plane that would take me to my beloved homeland. As I ascended the escalator to my gate, I noticed the numerous screens with frenetic advertising. I had never seen anything like it and my mouth was wide open. I savored every breath of the fragrant airport and before long, a wonderful fast food chain caught my eye. I rushed to the counter and ordered 10 hamburgers and a huge iced tea just like that. With my feast piled up, I strolled through the stores. I stopped at a quirky electronics store and looked in the window. My eyes stopped at the large cell phones and small headphones because I had never seen such advanced devices before. I gently placed the food I had just bought next to the entrance and walked purposefully towards a customer advisor. I made sure I got a working device on which I could also listen to music. I had never been able to listen to music during my time in prison and I had missed it enormously. I was introduced in no time and was even able to install these wireless headphones. When I walked out of the store, I sat on the floor next to my hamburgers, downloaded all kinds of songs and ate every last crumb with relish. When I finally got on the plane, I realized that I was allowed to fly in first class, which made me very happy again. I observed an elderly lady complaining to the flight crew aboutthe ice cubes that had already melted. It seemed very surreal to me, as I could only dream of such problems when I was in the hole. I shook my head in disbelief, pushed the headphones back into my now cauliflower-like ears and happily leaned back into my well-proportioned armchair.

San Francisco

Immediately after my return to the United States of America, I rushed to an ATM to see how much money I had in my account. It was a beautiful sight that I will never forget in my life. So many zeros and all of them before the ominous decimal point. I never visited my former neighbor Ralph. I didn't want to face the past and forget everything. I just rested for a while, sat in my newly rented apartment and gradually got bored. It was nice to be able to buy everything I had dreamed of. But I realized that I didn't have as many materialistic dreams as I had previously thought. I didn't need to buy an apartment or even a big house, because I just wanted to have my peace and quiet and sometimes I kept reminiscing about my former partner. These thoughts hurt a little, but I had to deal with them somehow because I couldn't really come to terms with them in prison. But one day, when I was so bored that I even went for a stroll in the city park, which I never used to do, I witnessed a robbery by a young couple. Some weirdo was harassing the couple and waving a big knife in front of their heads. Being very hardened since my time in Vietnam, I decided to help these two people and walked briskly in their direction. I approached the miscreant and asked him if I could help him. This guy looked at me and said, "Fuck offyou dude, or I'll carve a second grin on your ugly face!" I ignored his insult and kicked his knife out of his hand with a straight kick and hit him in the face with my right fist, causing him to fall over like a wet sack. He was immediately unconscious and the couple were hugely relieved. They had said they were going to call the police and asked me to stay with them to make sure this guy stayed down. I nodded, sat down on the nearby bench and crossed my legs. When the police arrived, I had to answer their questions and the one policeman finished by saying: "You should report to the police, mister. We can always use people like you."

These words stayed with me for a while and then I decided to actually register with the police. What did I have to lose?

March 2026

To my astonishment, the police training lasted a mere six months, although I was probably also favoured because of my past. In any case, I was the oldest and also the richest police trainee in American history. It felt great and I always enjoyed the ride in my police car and always appreciated the amusing conversations with my new, charming colleague Linda McDavid.

CHAPTER 2

ENKI/FRANK BAUER

PREPARATION

July 1, 1979, 11.00 AM

New York, Wall Street

People had finally brought out the "Walkman". When I was born on my homeplanet Dillimus, this invention had already been around for some time. The technology was already advanced and available in the form of a button that you put in your ears. Later they were built directly into the avatars and you no longer had to put anything in your ears. I've always loved listening to music anywhere and at any time. As I had always been a dreamer, I could immerse myself in other worlds, escape into my own modest cosmos and indulge in the thoughts and dreams that accompanied me. As we had already been on earth for several centuries, I had to do it with my own singing voice in my head until that day. But now the time had come, and the timing couldn't have been better. I had to carry out the "Wall Street attack". An attack that would advance capitalism. The purpose was to put the nascent opposition at the time in a bad light and elevate the bankers in that neihborhood to an honourable pedestal. I had already planned numerous, more complex attacks and this one was easy in comparison. That's why I had planned it all by myself and also carried out the entire execution myself. It was 11:00 in the morning and the company "Sony" stated that they would release the "Walkman" at 11:30. The attack was planned for shortly after noon, as the bankemployees were eating their meals at this time. They went outside to get their food so they could stuff it down in their crowded offices. The New Yorkers had already greatly expanded their public transportation network and connected the cities with new elevated trains. It was a very aesthetically pleasing sight, as the sometimes-high drawbridges that were pulled through the city radiated a sublime impression. The middle class was visibly enthusiastic about it, people boarded the trains with great pride and rode through the city at a height of seven meters. When people had invented this kind of transportation, the trains were still steam-powered and I liked the sight even more back then. Now they were electrically powered, but the carriages still retained their original charm.

A few days ago, I deposited four Semtex bombs in a freight train on the West Side Freight Line, which ran through the middle of Manhattan. Unlike the rest of the elevated rail network in New York, this High Linewas not built for passenger transport, but for freight. It wasn't my primary goal to kill a lot of people there, because I was after the bank employees on Wall Street. So the explosion, which was planned at 12.10 p.m. on Washington Avenue,was just a distraction. After the diversion, I had to plant various C4 bombs in the main building of the financial complex at 40 Wall Street.Security measures were manageable at the time, so this little diversion was absolutely enough. My schedule was still tight, however, because I really wanted to plant the bombs in the presence of the up-and-coming band Queen. I had already imagined myself distributing the bombs around the office during the song Crazy little things called love. To make sure that everything went according to plan, I had rented a charming office in the building opposite 37 Wall Street.A large, white leather sofa was waiting for me there, whereI could enjoy watching the disaster unfold. But first I had to pick up the WalkmanI had already reserved from the Radio Shack on Pearl Streetand I was on a tight schedule. Everything went according to plan and I received a cassette of the album Bohemian Rhapsody and the new Sony Walkman including headphones without waiting. At 11:55 a.m. I walked to the building at 40 Wall Streetand waited at the newspaper stand on the corner for the explosion of the elevated train. I looked at my watch and at exactly 12.10 p.m. I heard four muffled sounds from a short distance away. As was always the case with explosions, immediately after the last bang I felt a short-lived silence that lasted three seconds until the people started shouting. I watched as people's heads jerked towards the source of the noise and they began to breathe hysterically and make the usual cries. I put on my headphones, started the music and walked leisurely towards the main entrance. I stopped right next to the front door and waited until a large crowd of people stormed out of the ground floor. It was the only way I could be sure that people on the upper floors were glued to the window frontstocatch a glimpse of the action, soI pranced towards the elevator and rode up to the 20th floor. That was as high as an elevator could go without having to change. I slipped straight into the first office and watched as the bank employees engaged in lively discussions and alternately looked out of the window. It didn't really matter where I placed the bombs, they simply couldn't be immediately recognizable. So, I just walked into the entrance area, threw the small, plastic-wrapped package under the reception counter and walked on. I had a total of 10 packages with me and walked down nine more floors in the presence of my music. When I planted the last bomb, I hung my blue bag on the clothes rack of the last affected company and stoically walked out of the building. An Asian-style doorman held the door open for me and said in a nervous voice: "Watch out sir, something terrible is going on outside." I smiledat him, thanked him and wished him a safe day. As I crossed the road, I noticed that the excitement had gradually died down, but people were still talking to each other and pointing in the direction of the exploded train. Distracted by the wonderful music, I kept hearing all kinds of siren sounds, which gently drowned out the music, and I knew that all the emergency services must already be on site. Surprisingly, there was no doorman at the door to the 37 Wall Streetbuilding, so I opened the door myself. I was met by a charming woman with long blonde hair and a red dress, who I gleefully held the door open for and wished her a safe day: "Be careful, dear lady, something terrible is going on outside." She smiled at me and thanked me politely. I went into my rented office, sat down on my white couch and opened a Coke light.After all, I had to take care of my human figure, these human bodies were getting wide fast. I now put down my headphones, picked up the detonator and, as I always did, I counted from five to one and pressed the red button. The music from the headphones I had put down could only be heard superficially and was easily drowned out by the 10 explosions that followed. One bomb after another went off and I could watch as the windows on each floor were literally blown out of the building. It was done, I took a second sip of my Cokeand watched as people really started to go crazy.

47 years later

May 24, 2026, 08.00 AM - San Francisco

The sun was just grazing the corners of my eyes, forcing me to wake up. But I allowed myself to roll around in the comfortably warm blanket and tried to catch a few extra seconds of sleep. "MaybeI can take another short trip to the beautiful dreamland, keep away from the threatening reality and delay the present." However, the white walls were already bathed in sunlight and shone so brightly that the pleasant morning feeling slowly faded away. The all-round noise level outside my modest home had unfortunately also already risen, and I suspected that the day would have to be tackled. "I wonder what people who don't drink coffee do at this time of day?" Forgoing the morning aroma, consisting of the haze of freshly ground beans and the steam from the brewing grounds. The nose is gently tickled at the tip by the subtle Arabic smell and envelops the brain in a simple veil. I needed a strong blend that day because I had a lot of preparations to make for the next two days. The most important meeting with my brother Aton, who was called Timothy Warburg here on Earth, and his senior officer Draco, who was called Andrew Vanderbilt, was coming up. We had to have our last conversation before the final phase of the overarching plan. I was responsible for the most momentous attack in human history, and since we couldn't meet extensively afterward, we had to go over the entire overarching plan at the same time. I hoped that I would be able to take some time off after the meeting and go into town. I had acquired a taste for the music and drinks of the earthlings a few years ago. For too long I had been scowling and copying my brother's manner. He was always full of hate and I was never allowed to experience love or indulge in the joy of existence. I always had to do it in secret and it started to get on my nerves. A long time ago, in the oh-so-glorious age of the Egyptians, when I fell in love with a beautiful renegade, I was demoted in rank. I had never forgiven Aton for this, but I hadn't rebelled against him either. It wouldn't have made sense, because my place at his and his henchmen's side was obviously predetermined. Where was I supposed to go and what was I supposed to do? I gave in and lost more and more of my love for life. But now, as the completion of the overarching plan was imminent, I slowly woke up from the dark haze of hatred and went out among the people more and more. I even began to like people a little. It fascinated me how they always managed to be positive and cordial, and then made such serious, bad decisions again. But this probably had a lot to do with the fact that our race, the Kurs, exerted a considerable influence on the entire social system.