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 trranslated 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 [i]plus[/i] and
[i]minus[/i], 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.



________________________________________________________________________________\
____
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