THE MISSION
At that moment I said:
— Spark! Yes, you! Drift toward me in slowly turning parallellepipeda through this whiter than white Light, which shines and resonates from all sides, by which we are surrounded and permeated, are ourselves a part of, light in Light, harmony in Harmony. Who would want to leave this pneumatic field, where each element coincides with the whole, where the whole is in every part, and where first here and then there figures take shape and disappear, triangles, circles, ellipses, hyperbolas, spheres, cones, cubes, octahedrons, dodecahedrons, where tumbling spheroids glow and merge in the endless harmony of the Endless Light, in which you are a single point, no, a harmoniously resonating string of Light. Can you leave? Look, there, near that convex polygon sector, there's one, whoosh, gone, something quivers for a moment, a faint echo, a tiny silence, then Light closes over itself and it is as though nothing has happened. But something has happened. Look around you — you can see it happening everywhere, continuously. Where are they going? Look hard — you can see Sparks coming back into the Light too: there, and there, and there. So is there nothing else but this eternal domain? Look into yourself into that unbroken light that you are, without a flaw — is there perhaps a flaw in it after all? Isn't that flaw a certain vague longing, which is always with you and which you are hence not aware of, just as you are not aware of the glowing harmony that you are by being a part of it? A kind of homesickness, although you have never been anywhere else but here? Isn't it as though even perfection is not perfect? The Light is not completely luminous and Harmony is not completely harmonious? Yes, you must know now: this world is not the only one. There is another world. I cannot prove it, you have to believe it, you have to take the step and only then will you really experience it. There is an earth. The earth exists — as the innermost dungeon of the Kingdom of the Archontes. There is no point in telling you much about it, or even a little, because you would not understand. You would not even understand what you do not understand, because you do not yet know what "not" is. So, for example, it is not always light on earth — but that is already beyond your understanding. I might as well say nothing, but I am going to say it all the same: perhaps from envy, because I will never be able to live there. In a way that is as explicable as it is mysterious, it is sometimes light, sometimes dark: but even the earthly light of the sun is Darkness compared with our Light. It is as if it were the shadow of ours, and the shadow of that shadow is the poison of earthly darkness. I realize that I am not making it attractive for you to depart for that impure, confused world, but I do not wish to hold out false hopes to anyone, even though they do not understand me — and precisely because you do not understand me, I will now reveal the deepest secret. Just as the germ of Darkness is hidden within our Light, so Darkness tends toward our Light and loves it. By going there, you will bring Light, and the only way of bringing Light is by going there. This cosmic mismatch ultimately contains the meaning of our world. That is, only by setting out for that region of black light, lies, deceit, violence, murder, sickness, and death do you make yourself meaningful. By far the greater number of the infinite number of Sparks — if I can put it like that — will never have that opportunity, because they are reserved for contingencies that will never arise. For them eternity will never give way to transience and the finite. But you are one of the small, select band who are given the chance. Much has already been invested in making your departure possible— more than you will ever know, for your peace of mind. And that investment has been made because you are being given a mission, which only you will be able to remember. But you will not remember it as a memory; you will think that it's your own idea, a fantastic brainwave. Because just as here you know nothing of the earth, on earth you will know nothing of this world. You will forget all about it. When we are mentioned, you will shrug the shoulders you will then have. Because while you are sinking through the three hundred and sixty-five eons, worlds, and generations on your way to the earth at a point in time, you will grow heavier and heavier; more and more litter from the cosmic spheres will attach itself to you, shrouds, clothes, excrescences, snails, dead weight, covering your awareness of the original Light, until you at last fall into the dark dungeon of spirit and flesh and are finally born as a human being. That is, as a being that remembers nothing, not even what it is, namely Light — like someone sleeping. That applies to you too.
But at the same time you are different from the others. All the others are sleepers, who have yet to awake, through faith and knowledge. Only then is there a way back for them. But the heavy accretions have mostly reconciled them with life on earth; they have forgotten that they are aliens there and that they are what they think they are: that is the greatest threat to their return. Things will be easier for you. For technical reasons, we have decided on the VIP procedure. And now your moment has come; everything is ready for your reception. Farewell! Go! Now! Retrieve the testimony for us! Adieu!
PART TWO. THE END OF THE BEGINNING
First Intermezzo
— Dear me, that was a close thing.
— You're telling me. The trouble with human beings is that we can lead them to the water, but we can't make them drink. For example, it's no trouble for us to make someone stand up and pace about his room, or to make him slip so that he breaks his neck; but to get someone to do something that runs counter to his feelings is less simple. People aren't puppets— they have a will of their own; before you know it, they've slipped through your fingers. Take the meeting of Max and Onno.
— Did you fix that?
— Who else?
— It might have been coincidence.
— Of course, but it wasn't.
— Quite a feat. If Delius had driven past thirty seconds later, Onno might have gotten a lift from someone else.
— Then everything would have fallen through. Thank you for the compliment, but that kind of thing is routine for my department; for us that is almost as easy as some mechanical operation or other — for example making a tree blow over, or a meteorite strike, say — although in those areas too we often face uncertainties. Of course it was part of an extensive plan of action, because we had first to ensure that Max went to Rotterdam on the day of Onno's father's birthday, and so on and so forth, but as far as that was concerned there was no resistance to be expected.
— But why would have everything have fallen through in that case? What was the point of the meeting? After all, it's only made matters more complicated. You could have left Onno completely out of it and simply have had Max meet Ada and have a child.
— In the first place, he would probably not have given her a child in that case; and in the second place, it will become clear that Onno's presence was essential for us to achieve our ultimate objective. When you're involved in a project like that, you work not only on the moment that is immediately present, but are constantly keeping in mind everything that has already happened, what must happen in the future, everything that can go wrong, and how that has to be coped with and what will in that case have to be prepared, if you are to avoid it slipping through your fingers. You can compare it with a war: in retrospect in the history books it's a nice, rounded story, the result of which is known; but while it was going on, you as a field marshal may have had your plan of campaign, but it was still largely a chaotic succession of events, stupidities, and unforeseen surprises, which demanded new decisions every moment. And in the third place. . Oh, I've forgotten. Excuse me, you have touched on an essential point that we should perhaps be clear about from the outset. You asked me to tell the story at length and in detail and I've started. But to be honest, I don't feel like telling the story and at the same time saying why it is like it is and where I've intervened and where I haven't and why.