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Topic: Telephone (07/17/08)
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TITLE: A Call in Paradise | Previous Challenge Entry
By David Butler
07/23/08 -
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Author: Anton of Southerland, Research Officer in Human Communications
It seems strange, learning the ancient art of writing again, using the half-forgotten English tongue; considering the far more expressive methods of language we use these days -- verbal, non-verbal and mental-telepathic combined.
However, the written word is still one of our main links with the distant past. It has also helped me to focus my thoughts and record them outside even my superior Enhanced Memory. Pre-millennial people with only Basic Memory must have relied heavily on this outdated medium.
My wife, Marrilea and I study human communications. I have expended much mental and physical energy to discover remote communication techniques without resorting to those highly inefficient technologies of the turbulent 21st century AD. Why they wasted multiple megaweights of metal strands, merely to speak to one another verbally is inconceivable. Using spectral waves was an improvement, but even that cannot out-perform Enhanced Mental Capacity telepathic visuals used today.
Annoyingly, Marrilea has made more progress in her research than I, with minimal effort. She uses that mythical process called “Women’s Intuition” in many of her methods. Dangerous. I have frequently reminded her that emotion will cloud objective, logical thinking, but she persists with this approach. I have warned her also to avoid contact with the Ruling Saints, for mortals must learn to stand alone, but she still communicates with them.
She is only 850 years old, so allowances must be made.
However, she has actually made contact -- to a limited extent -- with Jennilea, our daughter on the jungle reclamation project in the Equatorial Westlands. Remote Tele-Emotive Linkage is an obscure technique and is of little use. It involves a human projecting a simple, but highly sentimental emotion to a remote human object, who then reciprocates. Both transmitter and receiver must have some predisposed emotional bond and be in a highly emotionally exalted state, impossible to control.
I was skeptical, until my daughter verified it when she returned on furlough. When I first interrogated Marrilea concerning the technique, I could make nothing of her disordered images and words. Such was her excited state. When she became more objective, she found it impossible to describe the process dispassionately. It will fail.
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Jennilea waved goodbye to her fellow workers and dove into the great blue lake. She was free to seek her own solitude at last.
She swam strongly and rapidly under the surface, reveling in the huge variety of life, greeting her lake-creature friends. Many came crowding around her, projecting quaint blue-green images of affection on her mind like little splashes of emotional paint, sharing in her joie de vivre. After a few tumbles and touches, still on the one lung-full of air, she out-paced them and swam strongly onto her favourite nook in the older jungle. Her Enhanced Physical Performance training made her as lithe as a dolphin, and as fleet as a cheetah.
She exploded to the surface with a laugh and threw herself onto the grass, panting and laughing. Such was her joy-radiation, many jungle creatures and birds came out to bathe in it. She felt like Snow White, a fantasy princess her mother once told her about that lived in the pre-millennial days who attracted the forest creatures. She danced with the apes and the jaguar cubs. She harmonized with the birds.
‘And why do I sing? I sing for I have found love.’
Soon this brought on her meditative mood. She settled down by a green trunk, and the creatures drifted away.
‘O Celestial Father, I love You and Your Son, the Great King of Jerusalem. Communicate with me, please.’
Sure enough, the now familiar warmth, the visions of reassurance and unconditional acceptance flooded her being. She no longer felt that restless emptiness that had tormented her for the last 200 years. Braving her father’s disapproval, she had contacted Lord Simon, the local Ruling Saint, and asked what it meant to be “redeemed” -- something her mother had experienced. He responded with alacrity. The afterglow persisted even after 3 years. But she still had one heartache.
‘Father, I do so miss my mother’s voice and thoughts. Our hearts have touched from afar, but … Oh how I wish that we could call as the ancients did in the pre-millennial days..!’
Suddenly, she felt a strange ringing sensation in her head -- then a voice.
‘Hello! Jennilea?’
‘Mother?’
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