After reading Gerard Cambri's website, about an original matrix, I
bought his 3 SiFi books : « The Turmoil of the Invisible Ones ».
The second book : « The Destroyers », is the following of the same
story. The third one: « The Battle of the Gods », although it's
different is a good complement of the precedent. I translated a
few extracts with systran for the most part to give you an idea of
the content. Kind regards -- Marcus
____________________________________________

------- The Turmoil of the Invisible Ones ------



...

It is when I stopped talking, breathless and the throat on fire,
that I noted the phenomenon. It was always dark, it was the same
darkness. But I saw the room.
I saw the inordinately large room as if darkness had never existed.
A round room. Rather a volume, a volume whose limits appeared at the
same time close to me and infinitely distant.
And I also perceived this strange modulation which seemed rising up
from air, very weak, then which was developing. A music of organ or
deep humming of a metal blade vibrating with very low frequency.
A kind of chant emerged of nothing.
Then a stridulation which hurt me, sharp like the scraping of a fork
on a pane. Uninterrupted. With an instinctive gesture, I tried to
put my fingers on my ears, but this vibration had entered in me,
eating away at me from the inside, obnubilating any thought, any
intelligent and voluntary reaction.
I had the feeling vaguely conscious of growing inordinately, then to
reduce, grow still ad infinitum, to become fluidic, to dilute me in
an impalpable world where reality became phantasm and where the
phantasm took a tangible consistency.

-----

I must have fallen asleep because a brutal start drags me from a
strange world in which anachronistic visions were connected with a
cacophony of discordant sounds.
I must have fallen asleep.
Or have a waking dream. Where is the border?
I am in sweat and a worrying heaviness makes my nape hurt.
How long did it run out since the departure of O' Hara?
Doctor O' Hara. His skepticism of last minute.
Why am I here? Still here?
They want to watch over me. To turn me in a guinea pig because they
do not understand what's happening to me. What has happened to me.
Since Tiahuanaco.
Me, I know. Without still understanding.
They want to keep me, to probe me. They will not release me as long
as they will not have understood. They will never release me,
because they cannot understand.
A bad sweat adheres to my skin like a shroud. However I do not have
a fever. My face is frozen.
There is something in this room.
No, not only in the room. In the environment.
Concept of a latent threat.
I direct my gaze towards the bunch of roses in the vase. Why didn't
one pour water into it? They will die… These roses, who brought them
to me? I had not thought of that until now. A new anomaly.
It is necessary that I go out. That I go away from this trap. They
will not catch me up. They mustn't. Because they must now know that
I left the coma.
But which "they"?
The answer is inside me, still obscure, but I am not able to make it
coherent.

---

The seconds go by. I am feeling dizzy. I remain always lucid, but
with the feeling of a current of hatred which infiltrates in my
brain. Who progresses cunningly while developing.
The stress is too strong. My jaws contract at the point to grind my
teeth. Ready to howl, I reopen the eyes, stare at the door. This
door from where the evil is about to emerge.
The handle is motionless.
Do I become insane? Blood flows to my temples. An unhealthy heat
invades my neck, goes up along my neck.
There is like a fog in front of me, a kind of moving fluid which
palpitates.
Do I become insane?
The question is repeated ceaselessly, mechanically. But the question
remains unanswered.

---

A cycle. The very principle of the hypnotic influence which enters
my head like the undertow. A to and from whose intensity is growing.
But, I hold out. The hands rivetted on the bar of windowsill, jaws
welded, I resist the call. They act with prudence, they are not yet
self-assured.
It is a call. An attraction against which I fight of all my forces.
« You cannot resist, Stone… It is impossible… Give up yourself… »
Dead leaves whirl to a few meters of me before being blown away ,
light and carefree.
Another thought infiltrates, more distant but increasing: « Stone…
William Stone! … Do something! You have the means of fighting, do
it, Stone! … » A tearing in me. The pain becomes throbbing.
The call is acting strongly. And the wave of hatred clings to each
fibre of my body, tears off me with myself.
I am afraid. An atrocious fear of heights. The plunge to take… The
suffering of two contradictory energies which fight in me, which are
very determined. My head becomes immense. It is a monstrous ballon
which will burst in a few seconds. And hatred is growing. It is
inside me, it is myself, it wants my loss, and I hate this hatred.
But it drags me off.
« Stone! It is still time. You have the means… »
One fulgurating pain explodes in my head.
« You have the means, Stone… »
« I cannot. I cannot! »


---

Sleeping without problem.
Without problem. Is this an impression or did he voluntarily hold on
these last two words? I indicate the bunch of roses on the night
table :
« Is it a habit, in your private clinic, to flower your customers
with Baccarat? »
« Usually, we put more resistant flowers and obviously less
expensive than the Baccarat. Those were delivered yesterday evening
by a florist of the district. I believe that it is your sister who
has send them to you. »
« My sister? »
There is a calling card in the middle of the bouquet.
A Bristol-board with this simple inscription:
"Have a good wake up. And keep trusting. Jane Oro".
Jane Oro…

I have neither sister nor sister-in-law.
And I never knew a Jane Oro. However this name evokes something for
me. That is located very far. Infinitely further that my birth. I
will find well, I am sure…


----

I spent hours to assimilate my change, to understand it. It is a
little as if a projector had gradually ignited, making me discover
all the possibilities registered in the depths of my subconscious. A
formidable awareness which has been just occured and which frightens
me.
It seems to me that I could solve any problem, complexity doesn't
matter. I also know that it is possible for me to extract from my
subconscious images and scenes which I never lived, but which are in
me in a potential state, which was lived by other persons, by my
ancestors, from the nearest to the most distant in time.

In the darkness, I raise my hands in front of me. The strange
luminescence which emerges from them forms a diaphanous and bluish
halation. My chest radiates also a kind of aura very weak, I
realized this by removing the jacket of my pyjamas. But it is
especially when I went to the mirror of the washbasin that I almost
lost the control of myself.
This face. My face. Like a death's head brushed with phosphorus.
Horrible in the darkness. I will not have the time to accustom to
it, the phenomenon will attenuate very quickly.

----

Ten hours thirty. In passing, I recovered the key of my apartment in
my letter box which I never lock, neglecting the mail piled up since
nearly two months.
A last hesitation in front of my door. Are they waiting for me?
The musty smell gets me in a stranglehold. With an additional odor.
An odor of flowers.
On the ground, in the entrance, I collect an envelope before going
to open the door of the living room. It is really a bunch of roses
which throne on the coffee table.
Baccarat roses. All fresh.
Besides that, nothing changed since my departure for Bolivia. A fine
dust accumulated on the pieces of furniture, tarnishing the whole of
the room.
I tear the envelope. A piece of squared paper cut out in a book with
this inscription : "Mr. Pirbay, this evening at 21 hours, 18th
avenue, number 798".
This evening at 21 hours… Roses… Pirbay…
And also Jane Oro.
I do not have any more the right to be astonished by this strange
situation. I must now take action and try to understand what still
remains to be understood before using the formidable potential which
is inside me.
Stone… My friend Stone, you really do not belong yourself any more.
Is this good or bad? Will you be able to achieve yourself in your
new skin, impregnated of a different personality?
With the end of the fingers, I remove a little dust of my bathroom
mirror. And I observe myself. The modification is particularly in my
look of which I manage with difficulty to support the intensity.
There are too many things behind these eyes. Too many things that
are difficult for me to contain and especially to analyze.

----

The avenue appears atrociously empty to me in spite of the
pedestrians which hustle themselves, in spite of the cars which pass
very quickly on the roadway, almost bumper to bumper.
They came in no time. The dizzy spell catch me suddenly and I
receive the shock of the psychic aggression which breaks in me. It
is very close. Imminent. I must not panic, close my spirit and
redouble attention.
I suddenly see the enormous radiator grille of the car launched at
full speed which climb the pavement like a roaring monster. The
shock is inevitable.
Incapable of the least reaction, I tense all my muscles for an
ultimate start. My sight is blurring. It is a call for help that I
proclaim inside myself. One fulgurating gleam bores me the brain. I
still have the deformed vision of the grille with its sparkling
chrome, like a disproportionate mouth on the point of absorbing me.
Then the black hole. An intense whirling of darkness and sparks.
I "was transferred". My body was instantaneously desintegrated on
the spot and rematerialize a few meters further. I know, it is one
of the many possibilities that the Initiates of the Great
Civilization used. The explanation suggested itself. But I had an
amazing chance that the transfer take place. Only the intensity of
my fear could transmit the alarm signal to my subconscious memory,
making spout out the solution immediately. Materializing by an
action on the whole cells of my body.

All will become a question of speed, to race them, and I hail a taxi
which drops me at my residence fifteen minutes later. No trap is set
for me and the precautions that I take to penetrate there prove
useless. But it is necessary to be quick. First money, which I take
out of a casket in my desk. Three hundred and ten dollars. It is all
that remains me but I already considered the way in which I will
reconstitute my savings. If however I manage to make emerge the
solution which I envisage…
The tart bell of the frontdoor resounds. I never had time to have a
more harmonious chime put in and I will undoubtedly never have again
the opportunity of it.
Is it possible for them to be already here? … It is unlikely that
they attack openly. Unless it's about the repercussions of my
escapade… During a short moment, I think of the backstairs. But if
what I fear prove exact, this possibility was certainly already
envisaged.

----

18th avenue. 620… 660… I stop my car in front of number 780 and I go
on foot until the 798. It is almost at the bottom of the city.
A small house with only one floor. Almost a hovel that I locate with
difficulty, embedded between two enormous buildings. Beyond, it is
the vacuum. The countryside with its ambigious darkness.
The wind fell, but the drizzle continues its soft descent and my
steps make a sucking noise in a viscous mud.
In myself is rising an obscure feeling of déjà-vu in spite of the
ambient veil of moisture which seems to bathe the place more
particularly. Or impression of an already accomplished similar
action.
« Mr. Pirbay! My name is William Stone! You hear me, Pirbay? … »
Silence after the last echo of my words. And this abominable musty
smell, as if the house were abandoned since centuries. But there is
the light upstairs. Perhaps Pirbay is deaf. I try to reassure me
while prudently climbing on the stairs which I come to butt. A
shaking and frozen banisters under my hesitant hand. The steps crack
with each weighing of my body.
My feet slip suddenly on a plane surface and I almost lost balance.
The landing. The thin ray slightly luminous which is in front of me
fascinate me. I still hesitate, terribly. And it is in spite of
myself that I push it, this door, prompted by an underhand desire to
contemplate beyond the darkness, magnetized by an invisible force
which takes its source behind this rough panel which half-opens. Two
candles are burning slowly on a table with the tortured feet, worn
and blackened by time. The old man who on the other side appears to
sleep on an archaic chair with the exaggeratedly elevated backrest.
The exiguous room is built in attic with a tilted ceiling and grey
walls, completely naked except for enormous cobwebs which cling to
it. On the left of the old man, a pedestal table supports a cube of
about thirty centimetres on side, with the transparent walls. A kind
of glass, but which should not be about it really, because its
surface does not return any reflection of the light of the candles.
A matt transparency, if it is possible to be expressed thus.
Without noticing it, I stopped passing very close to the table and
my eyes can't take off the face with the closed eyes, with the
eyelids solidified in the depths of cavernous orbits.
« Mr. Pirbay! », I pronounced of a raucous voice… « M.Pirbay », I
repeated as to be convinced that I did not dream. « My name is
Stone… William Stone… »
His eyes were already darted on me, before even to be opened; tinted
eyes of an indefinable blue and an extraordinary transparency like
those of a zombie.
I gave a slight smile awkwardly, stupid, in front of this incredible
being which seemed to go out from a tomb, but from whom emanated an
infinite kindness, an infinite comprehension which alleviated me
suddenly and which made me discover in a flash the nullity of the
petty human aspirations, the monstrous vanity of a civilization
moving towards its total destruction…
I had recognized him.
« You are… You are… », I stammed.
His non-existent lips became animated imperceptibly. I heard the
sound of his voice, deep and vibrant.
« My name cannot have significance », he began by always fixing me
with his pale look. I am the one who knows… The guardian… »
I perceived his monologue like foreign sounds but nevertheless
comprehensible, coming from another world. He continued and I
absorbed his words with greed, seeking to exceed his thought. But it
was impossible.
« …From thousand years to thousand years, other men had the
opportunity of this transitory meeting which we live in this moment.
Other men who were also you, William Stone. »

You should not be astonished, because the human being reborns
constantly of his past and is prolonged indefinitely by the
transmission of his hereditary memory. Without his knowledge… He is
unaware that he has been, like many others, spread out on a line of
time representing the past, the present and the future. It is
actually about a reincarnation, but of a biological reincarnation.
Each alive creature has in it, thanks to its chromosomes, all the
knowledge accumulated by the thousands of beings which preceded it.
In the body of each man live an infinity of entities reduced to
their simplest expression, but which are not less acting in him and
which determines his behaviour, the way he goes about things without
being conscious of it.
The old man stopped talking. His glance plunged in my eyes and I had
the feeling that his thoughts encrusted in mine as to mark forever
the concepts that he inculcated in me. His mouth again became
animated :
« At the origin of times, when cosmic architecture was created, no
antagonism existed. Then laws left chaos, imposed themselves by the
simple fact that the condensation of matter into energy gave birth
to the concepts of plus and minus, of attraction and repulsion…
There was then the advent of the man in the universe… Then the
thought started to interfere at the same time on the matter and
energy, creating ideological currents which directed the latent
forces, which came to disturb the universal harmony. The concept of
good and evil intervened… Evil against which you will have to fight,
William Stone. On the planetary theatre which is yours and without
still being able to understand the fundamental motivations of this
gigantic experiment in which we take part on a cosmic scale. »
I could not prevent me from intervening and it is perhaps what he
wished.
« Do you mean that we are all manipulated? That we do evolve in a
test-tube universe held by the hand of a scientific God who himself
is perhaps the subject of another experiment, wanted by another God?
… »
For the first time, a ghost of smile fleets on his creased face. A
smile contradicted by the bitterness which welled up of his
diaphanous eyes.
« Nobody is manipuled, except by the forces resulting from the man
which in their turn create disturbances in his near energizing
environment and are prolonged in what you could call…the Anti-world.
The original matrix which allowed the creation of the universe. It
is a neutral zone where the thought shapes and gives rise to all the
entities resulting from imagination…
Universal conscience… God, according to the church…
It is the receptacle of all the cosmic thoughts, the
multidimensional place where the products of psychic energies
crystallize. In this period when humanity leans towards the evil,
the ideological currents which result of it determined the
achievement in the anti-world of self-animated negative creatures,
independent and effective. Normally, these entities should not be
able to leave the original matrix. But the humankind, here now
nearly one hundred fifty thousand years, succeeded in opening doors
giving on the anti-world by playing the sorcerer's apprentice with
space and time.
It was when hyperborean civilization had reached its apogee… a new
question spouted out, spontaneous:
«In Tiahuanaco, was it a door? »
« It is one, William Stone… However you had the chance to access it
only a few moments and thus acquire the faculty which is now in you.
The first degree of initiation. If you had stayed there longer, I do
not know what would have happened to you, to your body and your
spirit, because no human having achieved the second degree never
returned among the alive ones… On the other hand, the negative
creatures, them, can pass through the "doors" and arrive without
danger to our world…
There is things which you should not know yet, William Stone. You
are not sufficiently prepared… Your initiatory change occurred
accidentally, it was still too early, and you were confronted with
the negative forces, which could have broke down easily your
resistance if they had not appeared in a so mechanical way.
I again questioned :
« Why don't you intervene, you have knowledge? »
« Because I can have only knowledge. It is to me interdict to
interfere into the oppositions of force. I can only inform, give
certain keys to those who were chosen, at each cycle, to restore
compromised balance… Your interference in the infra-planetary
struggle is accidental, but I do for you what I did for the others.
Such is my mission.


----

The weather is warm in the immense circular room and the air
conditioning of the erka generators is agreeably scented. Immense
translucent openings enable me to admire, three hundred meters down
below, the gigantic and marvellous city of Kimballah builded with
differently coloured quartz and hyperborean porphyry.
The day goes through its final phase and the distributors of infra-
mauve rays have just ignited, haloing the palace of Science, at the
opposite, extracting sparkling from the vaïdorgs which still fly
over the city, propelled by their hyper-lifting fields.


----

I have a disillusioned smile. My past life spent in the skin of a
normal man unconscious of the titanic fight which takes place in the
shade, of the bases which govern his own life, his own destiny. His
past, his future… And now, what is my advantage ? The availability
of a colossal faculty that I cannot use and which frightens me more
and more.
Because I am not any more human. Not really. Blocked in the
restricted universe of the men with disproportionate forces around
me. Here is my situation. In spite of the formidable potential which
is in me.
And this universe will become very quickly of an alarming exiguity.
Negative energies will not have to torment themselves any more to
want my loss. The men will take care of it.
Sometimes, I have the feeling that people stare at me with too much
insistence in the street. Or when I wake up, on a bench, in a park,
there are pedestrians which look at me with suspicious look. I know
that it will not last a long time thus.

----

At the Mayfair Hotel -- With a flexible movement, she went to close
the door. I followed the least of her gestures, watch out for her
eyes without detecting the smallest sign of danger. Unfortunately I
do not have the telepathic faculty of my adversaries and I regret it
because I could instantaneously anneal the suspicion which still
remains in me. Or get the certainty which I fear.
She came very close to me, her eyes plunging in mine :
« Look at me, Stone… Do you feel any hostilities? Do you have the
feeling of a danger or a peril? »
« I do not have like you the advantage to know who you are really… »
« I said it to you, Stone, I do not belong to the opposing clan.
Isn't that enough for you?
My look cannot take off her mouth whose lips are like two rose
petals. So tender, so attracting…
It is the thought of Jane which blocks my movement. Jane who
represents everything for me. And my muscles still stiffen. If there
had not been this first meeting in this nightclub close to Harlem, I
would not hesitate, I would take these lips with greed and I would
drink the life to its source, but there was…
« No, it is not completely enough for me… », I say observing the
crystalline blue of her eyes.

----

The cries are getting louder outside. Doors slam.
They must not find me…
Hammering, new calls.
They must not.
A frozen perspiration makes me a carapace which I do not manage to
break. But I must react…
The entrance bell… The door of the room pushed with force. A floor
waiter accompanied by a large man with furious look. They stare at
me as if I were the devil in person.
Sub-quantum action… Proximity 0,2…
The pulling from the room was instantaneous and I have just emerged
in full street with the impression of a fast fall. I wrongly
calculated my point of reintegration and it is with a horrified
glance that I distinguish the roadway with more than twenty meters
under me. Too weak to renew…
Ten meters… I pass in the beam of a lamp post and I hear the howl of
a woman who saw my fall.
The crash!
The exact notion of my death in less than one second. My new
attempt…

----

Consequently, I believe I can encircle the European Group which
blocks my freedom of movement in Asia.
I suspect this Group of being established in Germany or Austria, and
I will have at all costs to destroy it if I want to go without risk
to Schamballah in Tibet.
Schamballah! The ex-Kimballah of the hyperborean city. The city of
Syl Ork…
It is over there that the Door opens on the anti-world. The
tradition teaches that Agartha of the legend, this fabulous
underground kingdom of the gods, begins under the Himalayas to
continue to the foot of the pyramids in Egypt. Certain cuneiform
writings even specify that Agartha has five doors, of which one is
hidden in the ground, straight above the Sphinx of Giseh.
However, the Tradition reports only data elements deformed by time,
by the thousand years. And Agartha, actually, is neither an
underground kingdom, nor the place of election of the supposed gods
to govern the human destiny. It is only about one planetary volume
being integrated into the anti-world, leading to this paradoxical
universe about which the guardian spoke to me and which Jane then
explained me by more comprehensible images : water of a river which
interpenetrates, with its mouth, with the colossal mass of the
ocean. The anti-world…

----

A tiny light plays in the distance, shakes and wavers. How long did
I remain in this strange state of non-existence?
I have the impression to be glued in a fluid which soaks me. And my
movements seem to me of an extreme slowness. My movements! at least
the feeling to struggle…
They trapped me!
My thoughts become again possible. Thus I am not completely
destroyed, but simply blocked in a neutral time, in suspension
between the present and the future…
I understand suddenly how they could succeed : Zarknid… When she
bored my mental screen, she had the possibility of knowing my
vibratory frequency and she transmitted through telepathic skills
information to her Group…And the Man in Grey, Kernec, had only to
create a field of force tuned on my frequency!
The rage is rising in me, submerges me. Why didn't I understand that
his escape was only a trick and that he waited only the moment when
I would be obliged to vanish to trap me?
I did not sufficiently think. Stupidly, I launched out after him as
if it had been about a standard hunting in a normal world. My only
excuse is the numeral disproportion of the opposing forces, but that
does not solve the tragedy of my current situation. If one can
speak "about current" in this state of neutral time in which I am
locked up.

----

They are seventeen in an underground room located under the castle,
to rule on the decisions which they will make about me. Since
months, I stroke them which ended up disorganizing them completely.
I believed that they were going to panic, but they remained in a
total neutrality. They do not react like human although they have
appearance of it. By the way, neither do I, I do not behave like the
William Stone I was. My new knowledge, as well as the combat which I
had to carry out, made of my spirit and my body a different being
which really does not belong to this world any more.
They do not suspect that I am there, with less than three hundred
meters from them. But I know who they are.
Seventeen negative creatures and among them the "Man in Grey", the
baron Von Hernstahl…
It is not the only existing Group. But for the moment, it is the one
that keeps me from progressing towards Agartha, and which I must
destroy.




These other few extracts come from « The Destroyers », always by
Gerard Cambri. This book is the following of the « The Turmoil of
the Invisible Ones » written in 1976.
_________________________________________________



They are here again. In my close environment, whereas I thought of
having completely destroyed the possibility of their incursions into
three-dimensional space. I have blocked doors of Anti-world, in
Kimballah, Tiahuanaco and Giseh for nearly one year.


I am however certain that they came. Several of them, because
persistence is strong, and I first wondered whether they had not
merely trap my villa. I know their interferential processes which
act on the level of the nerve centres and the intermediate cerebral
zones. A diabolic and unstoppable tactic for the one who is not
informed and vigilant. But I have defensive barriers and they know
it. Then, what does this apparently gratuitous intrusion means?

After having lit the apparatus, I press on a secret key and several
series of alpha-numeric symbol appear on the screen. The figures
remained blocked with a danger point at seventeen hours. A spike of
factorial intensity 12!


I suddenly have the feeling of a latent threat. Not only the
feeling. The certainty. They know obviously that I can detect them
and, if they came up here, it is not certainly not to propose an
armistice, even less peace. Such a thing is impossible, because of
the very essence of what they represent.
God! The feeling of danger attacks me again. It is at the same time
inside me and outside; beyond the apartment and at the same time in
the vicinity. In spite of the fu1gurante exploration of my
chromosomal memory, I do not manage to discover the explanation of
this feeling. I know that they will go on to the offensive at the
moment when I will expect it less, but I cannot detect the trap
which will be set to me. I know their methods, they will not attack
me from the front, unless they benefit from important forces in
large number and with effectiveness



It is perhaps outside that they await me. But, in any event, if I
had gone to earth, they would have probably come to seek me there.
They never give up and I constitute, me also, a terrible danger to
them.
I probe the neighbourhoods of the villa mentally. All appears calm
to me.
Outside, the weather is fresh. Soon, the winter. We are on November
seventeen and it is twenty hours thirty. The night already fell.


The feeling of not being able to breathe. Pitiless tentacles slipped
into the car, seeking the contact with my brain. I know that I will
not be able to hold a long time. It is necessary that I release
myself in the few seconds which come. The trick appears to me: they
took advantage that I was focusing on Mercury to create an egregore
around me. Without I can be aware of it… A question of seconds…


I should not stay there. They are certainly more numerous than the
commando who took part in the attack and they obviously will
reorganize. It is really about a commando. Never they had come in
contact with such a large number at the same time. Until now, I was
confronted with only one individual harassing or a team composed of
two or three Negative at the same time. Now, the stakes must be
important so that they place in the balance such a manpower.


For me, the explanation came afterwards. I had crossed a nothingness
barrier and I had been beyond threshold of communication with the
Anti-world, the original matrix. At the extreme border between the
world of living, of the material beings, and that of nothing. In the
zone where the neutrinos release their factorial energy, convert
themselves into multidimensional images.
The neutrinos are the messengers of space. They convey the totality
of the cosmic intelligence by fragments in each particle. One can
compare them with the DNA of the human body in their space
translation.


Now, it is necessary to be fast. I must join Thula 1 and start the
state of emergency. Will Orejona answer my call? Jane Oro! … An
anagram. The Peruvian goddess who came down to earth from Venus.
Thousand years ago.


I stop the car at the only gas-station of the village and while a
pump attendant supplements the tank, I walk to the phone booth. By
security measure, it is essential that I probe Thula 1 remotely,
even if all appears normal to me until now.
The telephone of my villa rings three times on the line. A click,
and I hear the impersonal voice of the answerer machine:
« Stone Residence. Mr. William Stone is currently in displacement,
please communicate your message which will be recorded.
I say a series of figures in binary code and automatically I am put
in direct connection with the computer which I installed in the
cellar.


« I bet that you are the victim of one of these rotten triangular
nails! So did I, yesterday, … »
« Is it an epidemic? »
« One could believe it! », he says while laughing. « By the way, a
few minutes ago I forgot … I must give you this… »
Something in his attitude alert me. Same reaction as when he has
shaken my hand at the gas station. With a calculated gesture, he
inserts his right hand under his jacket, always smiling. But his
smile is contracted. His eyes are strange, too brilliant, and I
realize suddenly what will occur. My reflexes function
instantaneously in a fast riposte deviating his movement. But the
revolver he took out of his jacket is always in his hand. All of a
sudden, it is a face twisted by hatred that I have in front of me, a
diabolic face whose hallucinated look clings to mine. A detonation
snap. The feeling of a burn on my left side.
Sub-quantum action power 5. Proximity 0,3! ...

I have just transferred me in thousandths of second and I am now
behind him. My diagonally atemi strikes his wrist and the weapon
flies away, but I underestimated his reaction. It is a true mad
animal which launches out against me and I have only time to jump on
side to escape his claws.
Not time to think of the implications of such an attack. Again, he
charges me.
Field of force!
Stopped in his momentum, he comes to butt against the energy screen
which is around me. Jumping to his feet in an astounding way, he is
again in a standing position and stare at me with a spiteful look.
Saliva runs down commissures of his lips. His protruding eyes appear
enormous.




Suddenly, in the rear view mirror, I vaguely distinguish a dark mass
which moves to several hundred meters behind, which approaches
terribly quickly. A kind of black cloud very localised whose form
changes constantly. They created a new egregore and if I do not
reach Thula 1 very quickly, I will be intercepted on the road.
I am ahead of it. The black cloud stabilized with approximately two
hundred meters behind, stretching its tentacles wide in my direction.
Still an effort, Stone. It is a question of nerves! Don't give in or
it is death!
I am only to six or seven hundred meters of my property left.
Already, I see the white barriers, the large beeches of the park.
Four hundred meters… I slow down a little. The cloud gains ground. I
know what I have to fear if I am grabbed. Not only death, but a
dreadful anguish to lead in this nothingless context where I will
preserve all my clearness, but from which I will be never be able to
leave.

My name is William Stone and I open the eyes. The crude and whirling
light of the cabin dazzles me, then attenuates suddenly to transform
itself into a greenish luminescence which haloes contours of the
objects.



They tried and bluff, but their psychology is very different from
ours and they made certain errors. They have overdone it too much…
After the operation fell through, they immediately tried to destroy
me by causing the skid of the truck on the roadway. An amazing
chance to have succeeded in tranferring me so quickly without
reinstating in a material obstacle.


I move away to join the taxi, but the guy is planted in front of me
and laughs. Instantaneously on the defensive, I move back of one
step and I observe him. I do not believe to mislead me, there is in
his pupils something dim. A palpitation which becomes increasingly
fast. With a gesture of automaton, similar to that of Pasteur, on
the road of Salem, he plunges the hand in a pocket of his jacket
which come out armed with a safety catch knife that snaps
sinisterly. I am not taken by surprised and I attack immediately
knocking his face and the plexus with a double shuto. A kick
completes work while making the knife jump. Outside I hear the cries
of the cashier who asks for the police force. Then, other voices of
men : "Stop him! Call the cops!"
Running fast, I reached a corner of the street.
All take on an aspect of nightmare. The Negative ones are not only
established in a massive way in France, but they also have under
their direct control an incalculable quantity of individuals who can
stand up in my way at any moment.

The Negative ones have faculty to act remotely on the will of any
individual as soon as they already operated a mental junction with
the subjects. Those then constitute as many "antennas" able to
locate me and that they will launch without hesitating against me,
as they did it twice.
At the time of my first battle against the Negative ones, they
became integrated purely and simply into the human's system or
manufactured a material body starting from the energy which they
drew through the doors in the anti-world, their stronghold, the
paradoxical universe which generated them.




But how is it possible that a member of a commando of intervention
let himself trap in this way? Not time to look further into the
question. White sparks crackle close to my head and my chest.
Rebounds of the bullets deviated by my field of force.



« Then, you… Help me. »
« I love you, Will. For all what you are at the same time : naive
and marvellous. I love you for what we both of us represent, so
small and so large at the same time. I love you also because it is
necessary and we can't do anything about it, because we are all
looking after others in the search for an absolute which we will
never discover in the matter, but that we unceasingly come close to
without seeing it…
A sort of anguish go through her voice. My face goes up towards hers
and I notice tears in her eyes. The glance in vagueness, she
continues as in a dream :
« The universe is not cruel. It is only mathematical. And under our
human condition, we cannot conceive the swirls of energies resulting
from the initial equation and which involve us in an inescapable
accomplishment, calculated according to curves that you cannot even
imagine a moment… Towards an apotheosis which we will do nothing but
guess as long as we will belong to the matter…
As I listen to her, I feel the latent anguish which is inside her.
It is an immense sadness that wells up and that she usually hides
but which shows through in the moment. How old is she? Never I knew
it. The legend tells that she appeared under the name of Orejona, in
Peru, twelve thousand years before our time. How much men did she
love? How much lives did she traverse?
She has just stopped her monologue. Her thoughts are encrusted in
me, made of a love without any spot. I know that she is aware of the
thoughts which agitate me internally.
« You also, Will… you had multiple lives. You were Protagoras,
Yomaël… Syl Ork, there is more than one hundred thousand years. Do
you regret it? It is not the first time that we live this very
minute, all is only restarting… »
I took her face between my hands and I looked at her. I saw her
large eyes like dark lakes, wet in the tears which did not want to
run. I took her mouth with tenderness and we loved each other,
forgetting the present, the past and all that surrounded us, to
mingle us in an incredible symbiosis in a universe of happiness
which I believed impossible, even at the first time of our meeting.



And if we stop the dome of energy the time necessary at our exit, we
risk an immediate offensive of the enemy. Previously, it is
necessary that we test them to know their possibilities of maneuver
and the range of their armament. Beyond the protection zone, I
installed several guns with neutrinic radiations and also ramps of
thermal torpedo which I can operate by remote control since the
bunker. The first test will not delay any more .

« Proximity fourteen kilometers, indicates me Jane Oro. »
« Will, the moment is not for discussion, time is short. »
« O.K. ! »
She specifies the equations which must cause the phenomenon. A
variant much more elaborate of the Sargamède formula. It is not
quesion of a radio-transmission of the matter, but of the routing of
our dematerialized bodies through the trans-dimensional fabric.
This particular type of transfer allow us to travel a more or less
large number of dimensions according to the distance to be covered,
and it is in this succession of dimensions that we draw our energy
of translatory motion. This is why it is extremely dangerous to
carry out this kind of way through the solid matter. If calculation
is not sufficiently precise, the risk to remain trapped is great.
... Factor of transfer 5,2 alpha. Vectorial 12...
The figures are scrolling simultaneously and start little by little
necessary quantum energies. The rush goes up. Time is enough long to
reach the necessary level, because the least error would be fatal.
Here we are. Our two bodies vibrate in unison and we needs nothing
more but one negligible spark to hurl us.


« William! … William, concentrate. Wake up! »
This voice… Why doesn't one leave me in peace?
« Please, William! »
All of a sudden, my clearness returned. Jane is leaning on me and I
see her strained face, distressed.
« It is over », I say in a breath.
My smile which wants to be reassuring must be a dreadful grimace.
She helps me to straighten me up, takes my forehead between her
fresh hands .
I articulate painfully :
« How long did it last? »
« seventeen hours. I was fear that the psychic phenomenon of osmosis
also does involve you in a state of suspended life.
Under the contact of her hands, the forces return to me and I can
finally rise and walk while making exercises of breathing.
« The corridor… »
Jane follows me step by step in my progression towards a sector of
the wall which does not differ from the whole part. But I know that
it is there that we can go through. The wall is just an illusion. A
virtual image.





Here are others extracts from the two precedent books by G. Cambri.
I hope you'll find them interesting too. Kind regards and Merry
Christmas !
_______________________________________________



How strange is the life… I have enormous atavistic knowledge
compared to the twentieth century, but I am far from having the
universal conscience. Even the guardians do not have it. It is a
thing which will escape any human being or humanoïd. It would be
necessary for that to break the psychic barrier which separates us
from cosmic and to plunge in the infinite sidereal one, to merge
with the fantastic mathematical entity which bathes the universe,
that the catholics call God and the Freemasons the Great Architect…


I am Syl Ork and I know that they will come and that the world will
be destroyed. Humanity will be assassinated… Everywhere in the
multitude of the galactic complex it is how things are. There will
be flood… Several floods and one will fanaticize the people.
Preachers will announce new eras and resurrections, but in truth all
that will be false, all that will be wanted and one will not have to
believe in it. Because the life is born, the life dies and runs out,
is continued… continues. There is not resurrection but an
accomplishment towards the truth which is infinite and is found in
itself in a never-ending spiral…



The impulse which I dominate to send him packing let very quickly
place to amazement when he pulls out of a pocket a shining metal
medal representing two triangles intermingled and surrounded by a
circle.
The seal of the guardians.
He has the long hair and clothing of hippies, but his face is
aristocratic-looking and his look sharp.
" Be quiet, Willy! ", he tells me smilling
" I beg your pardon ? "
Then, he goes on talking in French :
" My name is Johan Topdown, and you are William Stone, aren't you ?
… I come on behalf of Jane. Jane Oro. Is is all right, or is it
necessary that I give you more details?"

The vertigo begins again. Of a confused voice, I try to defend me :
« I did not assassinate anybody. See in Vanves what occurred. »
« Precisely! What did you go to do there for? You transported a
bomb? … Who is your employer?"
He must think that I am an agent of a foreign power, a terrorist.
« I cannot answer you for the moment. Bring me to a leader of an
official service. »
« I belong to an official service. Then, do you tell me who you work
for? Early or late you will answer me, and more time passes and more
you charge your file. You can still benefit from certain extenuating
circumstances while speaking immediately. After… »
Old police methods! An impalpable fog prevents me from seeing
correctly in front of me. The figure of the police chief becomes
deformed per moments. And I have a headache… Bumblebees fill up my
cranium
« Let me quiet, don't you see that I am not in a position to answer
you? Treat me first. »
« Not at all, pal, you are fine, all that is only a feeling. »
I want to vomit. Several of these bastards had to bludgeon me.
Somebody holds me by the shoulders to maintain me against the
backrest.
« A small effort, here you do not risk anything! », the easy-going
cop adds.
« Come on, pal, tell me! I give you my word that one will take it
into consideration. And the political exchanges, that exists…
This time, I have really vomit. I had to splash his clothes and he
swears like a trooper while moving back himself. I do not make a
gesture.


It's all right… Yes, the guy appears to give up and moves away
towards a subway entrance. By safety, I let him disappear in the
stairs before launching me there in my turn.
According to his features, he should not be a French, rather a
Yugoslavian or a Turk.
He has just crossed the automatic wicket. At the counter, there are
several people on standby. Not time to buy a ticket. After making
sure that nobody observes me, I jump over the wicket and I engage
behind my game. If I play well, it will be possible for me to
reverse the situation to my advantage, at least for a certain time.
And I need some time.
Direction Versailles-Town hall of Issy… He is on the quay. A subway
train precisely arrives and I get into the coach which precedes his.
Lastly, I can slacken my effort. I do not need temporarily a field
of force any more, the metal coach acting as Faraday screen room and
isolating me completely.


Fantastic celestial anger breaks out suddenly in an apotheosis of
fire and lava, titanic gleams and curses come from stars. The
satanic shape of a trident covers the sky and the flood drowns the
flames, drains the blood of the men, shaving any concept of
intelligence and conscience…
My name is…
I do not want to die…


When I was a kid, I was afraid in the black, fear of some evil
spells probably due to the devilry whose my grandmother was fond of,
since the legend of the werewolves until the bewitchments while
passing by the phenomena of obsession.
She had told me so much of it in the evening by the fireside where
crackled still wet logs, alternately with the stories of the
countess of Ségur, Misfortunes of Sophie, a Good little devil…


Once again, I had a certain chance. Zarknid - it is the name that I
retained while excavating in her thoughts – almost defeated me while
utilizing the oldest motivation of the mankind : the carnal desire.



As I expected it, the Times, this very serious and very sober
British publication, does not mention any event concerning the
Mayfair hotel. On the other hand, two other less complexed daily
newspapers announce in the first page :
" The flying man of Berkeley street ".




I suddenly feel the impression that I do not exist any more as a
real personality. An infernal heat is irradiated and transforms me
into a fire vibrating at an incredible frequency. The billion cells
of my body entered at the same time in activity, releasing an energy
mass from which the surge comes to accumulate in my head. And,
gradually, the influence is less strong, the suffering attenuates.
Abruptly, I see again the face of the creature less than one meter
from me. My shield took again its place and, in front of her
failure, she faded.
Her eyes reflect incomprehension, then fright. But she gets a grip
on herself quickly. It is from now a mortal duel which has just
begun, with considerable forces which are opposed until one of it
yields.

Without I want it a powerful anger thunders in me.
A fury that I cannot contain, resulting from the depths of my genes
through centuries and millenia. My force shield increases suddenly
and I can feel that she becomes exhausted. Her look became vague.
Her mouth is nothing more but one agitated bloody wound of spasmodic
tremors.
She moves back. I know what she feels : a vile terror and I have
such a and I have such a certainty of this as her thoughts, now,
reach me with violence. Her mental shield yielded. It is just a
matter of a few seconds.
Abruptly, it is dilution, the disintegration of the molecules of her
body.
There is a muffled explosion in the room. Then an immense cold.
In front of me, the creature ceased existing.




The Doors constitute channels of access between the two universes,
ours and that of the original matrix. A fabulous attempt of
Hyperborean to approach the cosmic truth and to try to understand
what justified the accomplishment of the man and his destiny.



It is the proximity of Jane Oro which reassures me. Through the
apparent brittleness of her extreme femininity, I conceive a force
and a determination beyond what I am.
It is this force, now, which will guide my acts.
Jane Oro, on the other hand, underwent a directed initiative, wanted
by the Positive Centrale (Group) about ten years go. She explained
me that she has been resulting from a made up genetic filiation for
approximately eight hundred and thousand years.
Still more than me, she has a fantastic reserve of atavistic
information, and she also explained me that the Centrale of Positive
Energy has existed for a hundred and forty thousand years. It is
about a trans-temporal secret organization which was builded in an
empirical way to counterbalance the effects of the Negative ones.



It is midnight minus one. Up there, the clouds are even denser, more
threatening. Their electric charge is considerable and my whole
spirit is centered on this formidable natural energy. Only one
fraction of a second will be needed, presently, so that all starts.
More than thirty seconds. The first rumbling of thunder resounds,
rolls in the mountain and returns to me multiplied by the rock hills
against which it collides.
The seconds run. Some drops of rain pattering…
Enormous drops which crush on my face and my clothing, soaking them
in one moment.
When the second hand of my watch reaches midnight, the first flash
slams with an incredible violence, tears the darkness like a knife
of fire.
Others still occur, pointing their darts towards the sinister walls.
And it is then the outburst of the apocalyptic forces which
transform the landscape into a dantesque hell of fire and darkness.
The wind redoubles, bending the large secular fir trees, hail snap
with a brute force against the walls in ruin.

A hundred and fifty thousand years ago, Syl Ork had understood the
danger represented by the installation of these paths. He had given
alarm,
but nobody had believed him. Fanatics had even tried to assassinate
him and tanks to his fantastic scientific knowledge he escaped the
38th cenacle's conspiracy … Since, these Doors were not used any
more but in a restricted way. Because no human being having attempt
a voyage in the anti-world never returned from there. Except those
which approached the threshold with a greatest caution. These, by an
osmotic phenomenon of impregnation, underwent a change which awoke
in them the atavistic memory.
It is what happened accidentally to me.
At this point in time the negative creatures started to appear in
mass. They had crossed the doors and had settled in the bodies of
certain men. Wars intervened, located initially, then the conflict
spread. There were two antagonistic clans: conservatives and the
expansionist ones. The latter were
cut off in the Western part of the single terrestrial continent,
while the conservatives occupied our current Europe. In the middle :
No man's land of thousand kilometers broad Land. A kind of neutral
zone, evaluated according to agreements aiming at a division of
territory. But hegemonic balance had become too unstable and the
negative forces did not cease accentuating the divergences of
opinion, to poke hatreds. Until the day when the nuclear war burst,
devastating billion square kilometers, starting a titanic seism
which parcelled out planet.





Now, here are some extracts from "The Battle of Gods", by Gerard
Cambri. It is different from the two others but however a good
complement as you will see... The third part of the puzzle ?
________________________________________


I am tempted to question the computer on the probabilities of
success of an individual operation, but a new idea drag me out of
the Room of Knowledge. A door shut again behind me and I take down a
long gangway until I stop in front of a conduit which plunges
vertically, level with my feet. This central pit gives access to all
the levels of the satellite and there are a hundred and fifty ones.
The gesture of my hand towards the pit triggers a beam of purple
light directed vertically. It is about gravitational waves obtained
from a special energy stored in accumulators. Resolutely, I advance
in the opening and at once I am transported to the bottom with a
rather fast pace but without a hitch. The levels flash past. Arrived
near the last, I concentrate to obtain a deceleration. I have just
to think of it with force. All the mechanical functions of the
satellite are conceived to obey the cerebral vibrations that sensors
collect and analyze.
I have just stopped in front of a door of which I decipher the
inscription and which slides with soft hissing, exposing a
rectangular room. Photon tubes illuminate instantaneously the place
and I move towards a line of oblong racks covered with transparent
panel. In all, nine racks of which three only are occupied by
entirely naked and lying bodies, maintained in their positions by
gravitational fields.
Two are androïdes; I was about certain to discover some in this
compartment. For a long time, our scientists controlled the
conception of living beings obtained by synthesis. Their bodies are
similar to ours, just as we are morphologically identical to the
earthling. They have the same organs than us, except that they are
conceived by machines, kinds of bioelectronics incubators, from
human embryos. The principal characteristic of the androïdes lies in
the fact that their brain remains virgin of any conscious function
until their physical maturity. When their adult size is reached,
other machines are charged to activate their conscience and to
impregnate their brain of all knowledge which is necessary for them
according to their destination : domestic, administrative, warlike
activity or different.



The sensors of Wimana indicate that all is normal in the vicinity.
While the androïdes start to take rigorous soundings to check the
totality of the external installations, I go in the exit chamber
accompanied by Arna. The second gate slides in the wall, exposing in
our eyes a very large spherical room with the metal walls. It is an
underground silo connected to a multitude of others by gangways.


« Are you sure that all still functions? », She worries.
« To judge by the easiness of our approach, yes. »
I call Darn-l who introduces himself almost immediately.
« Result of the soundings? »
« Positive », he affirms. Some mass of fallen earth damaged the
structures of the periphery, but four on fifths of the complex are
always usable. »
« Well. Reactivate the lines field centered on the main continents.
I want to be able to use them in one erg maximum. I want Darn-2 to
test the terminal zones. »
He agrees and makes U-turn. Arna looks around on the walls of the
silo. Those are smooth and emit a soft light, sufficient for our
sight. In the unoccupied part by the patrol aircraft a crystal
sphere irradiates regular pulsations : the transmitter of guidance
which enabled us to end up here. A little further, an immense
translucent screen allows the visual connection with the other
underground installations. Androïdes install themselves behind it
and begin to take over the controls.



Identity documents belong to the accessories that we will carry.
Mine is made under the name of Robert THOMAS, a patronym which can
pass many borders without arousing the attention.
...
« Can you drive us to New York? »
He hardly look at me and beckons to us to sit on the back. Arna sits
on the first. I follow her and the door shuts after Darn-1. This one
now has a name compatible with the country : Jack ANDERSON.



The table to which one installed us is located against a large
picture window which separates us from the pavement. A waiter brings
the first dishes to us which we have choosen on a menu. Arna
hesitates to carry a first piece of lobster to its mouth, then she
makes up her mind and tells me a few moments later :
« They is very good. In any case, much better than all than one
gives us during our… trips. »
« It is also my opinion. »


The discussions make a hubbub in the restaurant room. What intrigues
me more, in this mass of people, is not the fact that they gather,
but the factitious behavior which they give each other. They try all
to appear exactly what they are not. The men adopt exaggeratedly
worthy and pontificating attitudes, while the women - the
word "females" comes to my mind - act as if they wanted constantly
to try to please their companions. I look at Arna and finds a simple
and splendid charm comparatively.



The corpses appear to twist while being diluted, then suddenly
disappearing. Right after, our vision becomes again normal, but we
are alone in the large office; Rockweld and his comparses - at least
their lifeless body - have just been transferred in the Thanik
universe.

First, my adversary is paralyzed. In the second which follows, his
body undergoes a fast effect of distortion before being erased
completely. I also shoot at the first one which still did not change
place and he is diluted in his turn, swollowed by nothingness.



The room of transfer. We take seat there. I already regulated the
coordinates of our destination. In a few seconds the lines field
will guide us in the sub-temporal zone. Those tension fields
materialize the long trails similar to tracks which take shape on
the surface of the ground, nearly three hundred meters above us.
They goes in multiple directions and, seen of a certain altitude,
they form a gigantic drawing which resembles materialization of the
bursting of an atomic nucleus.
A bluish light emanating from the spherical walls informs us that
the room is in activation.
« Attention, transfer! »



At about fifteen meters under us, a man is on guard, the head
raised. He holds a weapon in hand. Suddenly, he must see us in spite
of the half-light and he starts to shout.
"Come on! ", I say. " By the roofs…"
At the same time, I actuate my degravitor and I start a fast clim,
imitated by my two companions. But already two heads appear from the
window that we left and arms are stretched towards us. Shots ring
out. Fortunately we arrived out of reach. The roof of the building,
weak inclined, offers a temporary protection to us. By regulating
our degravitor, we can reduce our weight at will, which enables us
to run with a great facility. Soon we fly across a distance
equivalent to half block of houses.
Somewhere, downwards, a siren with two tons announces us the arrival
of a police car... And in the distance, I perceive others of them.
The sound approaches; it is obvious that these vehicles converge
towards us. The men who invaded the building, a few minutes ago,
were obviously civil policemen. I do not even wonder how it is
possible that they arrived so quickly on the spot. Only one answer :
the hesitation of Arna left time to the Hybrids to transmit alarm
and it is reasonable to think that the policing authorities,
including governmental high authorities, are infiltrated by the
creatures of Thanik. Moreover, after the incidents of New York, the
whole of the network was in alarm, and they were more or less
waiting for us…


From bad grace she moves away from me. Darn1, him, has already
disappeared and now I am alone. I am aware of a trap which is
closing on us. "They" did not know exactly where we were going to
appear, but they had acquired the certainty of our intervention. A
new error of me. Thanikiens obviously have an advantage on me, they
were assimilated since more than one century to earth civilization,
have understood its mechanism and even certainly altered it to
benefit from it.



"I know your project of invasion. How can you deny it? You took the
occult control of this planet to use it like new home base. What do
you answer, Aorlig? "
"We let beleive our descendant that a new era will open for them. It
was effective means of maintaining our supervision. By coupling us
with the earthling we had first of all imagined to give rise to a
new race which should have been obedient to us, but Hybrids, as you
name them, escape our control partially. They obeys us only because
they are persuaded that we lead them to the total domination of
humanity. To some extent, we played the sorcerer's apprentices by
creating them and now they threaten to supplant us. They serve us
and will obey us only as long as they will be convinced of our
utility…"
" How can I accept your sincerity, Aorlig? "
" Logic should make understand you that I do not lie. "
" What do you wait for ? "
" That we discuss the terms of an armistice and that you accept our
proposals. Let's meet physically, I am not able to maintain a long
time this telepathic dialogue.

Aorlig is at the wheel, in fonction of what he announced to me, at
least I imagine that it is indeed him. I open the rear door and
installs me on the bench. Slowly, he turned over towards me and
fixes me with greed. His face is lit a little by the light coming
from outside, which permits me to observe him. A broad face
surmounting by large globulous eyes which frame a nose of small
size. That surprises me. By looking at him better, I am sure that he
as had a face lift. As well as his lips which are a little thick
whereas those of Thanikiens present usually a linear and tight
aspect. Undoubtedly a removal carried out on a "subject" of
experiment.
He addresses himself to me in the language of his race.
« I feared that you do not come. »
« Why? It would be stupid of my share to refuse a possibility of
agreement, since you and your companions seem decided with an
arrangement. »


I emerge very slowly from my torpor. My eyes are accustomed
gradually to the soft light which bathes me. A circular look makes
me discover the metal walls of a small square room in the center of
which I have been installed. I am entirely naked. Against my hip and
the top of my left thigh, an ovoid form apparatus emits a light
humming, sustained by a hinged arm which connects it to a wall panel
traversed by coloured luminous fluctuations.
What happened to me? I am half lying down and begin to straighten
up. This cabin is that of micro surgical complex equiping the
Wimana.



I put Wimana on automatic control to leave our underground
retirement of Nasca. It is a delicate operation which only the
sensors and the calculator on board can conclude. The calculation is
being carried out on a screen opposite me. Nine… Seven…
Arna sat on the armchair of the copilot, the androïdes occupy each
one a turret of shooting. I already programmed our flight
coordinates on the computer.
Two… One… reverse tension! … In the same way that occurred when we
arrived from space, I have the impression to float in nothingness
and I do not distinguish anything any more. A very short time. Then
all takes again its place. We have just crossed the two hundred
meters of rock and ground which separated us from surface.