The façade of the cognitive science building looked to be more modern than most structures at the University. It wasn’t an old campus by American standards, but it wasn’t exactly new either. He wondered privately at times if he had made the right choice to pursue his doctorate within these hallowed halls. He was told by his advisors that this was the place for cutting edge research, and anyone looking to advance their career could do worse. Still, something ate at him.

Glancing down, he rechecked for the hundredth time the handwritten note. On it were the simple directions to professor Devereau’s office, located in the cognitive science building. It was off hours, but he felt that there was no harm in trying to catch the buisy prof. He’d been at this committee thing for over a month now, and it was starting to become a pain.

Stepping in, there was a small waiting room with an empty receptionist desk. The lobby door was fixed open, probably for janitorial, which led down a long, well lit hall with cheap peel and stick flooring. On the right were the offices, a row of closed doors displaying industrial style tiles machine engraved with names and numbers. On the left were the labs where much of the actual research was done. The hall proceeded to an intersection, and he was about to turn right and proceed to Devereau’s office when he heard the distinct voice of the professor off to the left. It wasn’t the usual arrogant tone that he expected. The voice carried a note of disturbance. He froze, listening.

“I’ve already provided you with direction for this program, which I had misgivings about from the start. You stated that this was a onetime effort, and now you apparently want it to be a continuing event.” It sounded as if there was a squeak from a chair being quickly moved across the floor. “This program has already done exactly what I most feared. It has obviously reduced cognition and increased fanaticism. Already from the opening moves we have less of a society because of this!”

A smooth, measured voice rose in response to Devereau. It was the voice of someone used to persuasion, used to lying. “Dr. Devereau-can I call you Gerry? Look, Gerry, I like you. You know we first picked you because you are that good, and you’ve come through, which has not gone unnoticed. The way it works, Gerry is that my superiors don’t think they got all the data they-and you need to develop real policy, so we have to continue to go forward, ok?”

“The problem is John, and I will call you John, that my predictions regarding behavior have already been confirmed. Artificially recreating the religious experience on a public scale has never been done before, and it has resulted in a wide spread call for and demand for violence as a cathartic release. Religion without the structure of religion requires substitution, and the substitution has done visible damage, independent of the artificial experience.”

“C’mon Gerry, you don’t think for a minute that the last four years happened without a purpose, do you? Covid has provided us with all kinds of opportunities-and you as well. How much research do you think you could have done without it?”

Devereau made a noise of exasperation. “John, once the person is lead down the road to a reduced sphere of operation, of necessity both the mental workings and the emotional reactions follow. People become more primitive, less rational, and more reactionary. There is no guarantee that their loyalty will stay with the powerful in society.”

“You know Gerry that Covid is coming back. It’s in the works with a few other things. We can be harsh-very harsh with the American people. We really don’t want to be harsh Gerry, and your participation ensures we won’t have to be.”

There was a pregnant pause then, a silence where only the hum of the lights and the sound of his own breathing filled the hallway. It was how one feels at that moment on the high dive when gravity takes over, and the plunge into the blue pool below becomes as inevitable as the setting of the sun. Devereau broke the silence.

“I remind you John that this experiment is skimming the edge of legality. It is certainly breaking moral law. Removing the religious experience from its’ spiritual context in order to gain control of the populace has never been done before-I would add for very good reasons.”

“I’m reminded Gerry. Just keep in mind, if it wasn’t you, we’d just find someone else less troubled by our aims. But back to topic, your analysis of the religious experience, your laying bare its essential steps, qualities, and practice has allowed my superiors to accomplish a milestone. Just look at what you have discovered, and been able to test in the real world, Gerry. The religious experience is indeed a working method by which great loyalty and trust in our leaders is secured. Surely you can see that this is a benefit to any society, especially ours in these challenging times.”

There was a hissing sound. It was perhaps a note of quiet annoyance, of disagreement, or simply a sigh before making one last attempt to convey a perspective to another who is unreachable.

“John, the society wide applications for what is an extremely personal and interior process have completely unknown consequences. Those we currently see are not in any kind of final form. Remember, the religious experience is often visited by what psychologists refer to as near psychotic episodes. This is the outer view of an internal process of completely tearing down the structure of the person. We have achieved this in the population, and more! We have seen that the use of tools such as the introduction of an unseen, unperceivable deadly threat, the adoption of identity destroying devices such as masks, and fear based isolation-forcibly removing people from the very structure of their lives, whilst removing all possibility of returning to those lives prepares them for a messianic acceptance of their leaders as priests, or even gods-“

“Which enables them to enact quick and decisive policy,” John interrupted.

“Yes, even gods”, Devereau continued stubbornly. “Depending upon the deployment of political and media based strategies, which is blatantly removing from the public any free choice they might have had”.

“Okay Gerry, I’ll bite” returned the smooth voice. “Now, why don’t you tell me-how many of your vaunted people have any idea of how to navigate this world, huh? We’re not living in the 18th century anymore, Gerry. These ideas of people having some kind of choice in a world of nuclear weapons, aliens, and pandemics sure sound nice, but they aren’t going to find any policy decisions printed on their bags of potato chips, are they? So, who is going to tell them Gerry? Is their neighbor going to take enough time off from porn and basketball to tell them? No Gerry, we are going to tell them. We are the ones with the brains and the guts to get things done, and working with people like you, we are going to do them.”

“John, do you realize that suicide rates, domestic violence, all kinds of addictions have skyrocketed since we began the depersonalization program? What kind of society do you think we will have left after this?”

“One able to meet today’s challenges, Gerry. Just imagine with me for a moment how much worse this would all be if my superiors did nothing to prepare for the bigger crises that are well on their way. With your work we have a society to meet them. Isn’t that what we all need?”

He heard chairs move, and shuffling, indicating that the meeting was over. He carefully placed the handwritten note back in its’ secure place. He wasn’t certain exactly how he felt. He felt the urge to turn around and go, but he was determined to catch the final remarks.

“-Ancient, John, really we don’t know how far back this extends into the past, but we do know that the traditions, the rituals, the symbology to return to a functioning individual-a healthy model of the self go to the roots of the oldest cultures around today. Replacing these time tested supports with props and substitutions from pop society- lets’ take the example of canonizing health care workers through ridiculous glee club events, and deifying science through personification rituals-you are building a priesthood out of technicians and bureaucrats. None of these people have a clue about the nature of this praise they are receiving. They have no understanding of what has been unleashed, thus they cannot guide the public that suddenly believes they have such power. This is playing with fire.”

The smooth voice returned in a tone that was no longer persuasive, just direct, and worse-chilling. “It’s going to happen Gerry. It’s going to happen with you or without you, that decision has already been made. I advise you strongly to accept our offer. It is in your best interests. I will return with the documents on Monday the 15th.”

He was already out of the building, and into the evening air. Strolling across campus, his mind a storm, he came upon a group of artists wrapping chairs and benches in white cloth with bright, almost iridescent ribbon. There were vague suggestions of human forms under the wraps, bound tightly to their furniture. He looked on with a growing sense of desperation as his eyes met the gaze of one of the artists.

“You get it, man” was all he said.

The campus was remarkably similar to so many others across the USA. Perhaps at one point it actually had been a town, but now it was the University that had penetrated the entire fabric of the human landscape-a decentralized mixture of older and newer buildings dispersed into a largely run down and over priced urban milieu. Like all things in America, there was a strong feeling that this was some kind of semi-private walled off culture, unavailable, parasitic, competitive and terminally cold.

On foot, he wove through the maze of streets scarred with potholes and endless cheap repairs. He waited for stoplights to avoid being run over by foreign cars with dark tinted windows. Everywhere were the wifi towers. A group of teens sporting Mohawks dyed multiple colours leered at him briefly, their faces glinted with metal dangling from all the wrong places. He wasn’t sure if they were heckling himself or someone else. He decided he didn’t care, as he turned down his street.

The slum he rented with a bevy of strangers was just down the block. The clouds boiled overhead. He saw the people and the animals that were often within them. One of the cloud people was reaching to him, silent communication. His mind laughed at his training, which directed him to view the world as dead, when inside he felt the communication, the bond that was absolutely missing from the structures in the society.

His thought drifted to Christine, how he had felt that pull, that attraction towards her. He had always believed that she was intelligent, unlike so many girls. When she decided to care about her appearance, she was actually quite attractive. Then his memory drifted to that last time they met at the internet café, after a long absence. She had followed the demands of a family in crisis, whilst the decisions of college and career dominated his waking days. He had been waiting for her at their favourite table, when she walked in exuding an air of ferocity. It was becoming quite common for females, especially younger ones to give off a strong odor of hostility, but this was the first time he had felt it in Christine, and it took him aback.

He recalled asking her if she was having a tough day, and being looked down upon, as if a mere useless male couldn’t possibly comprehend the complexities of existence. “It’s the antis”, she spat, with an accusing stare in his direction. “They want to destroy the pharmaceutical industry. What happens with the next pandemic??? They want to kill us all!”

He laughed a little then, which was absolutely the fatal move of the day. He topped off his mistake by disagreeing with her.


He stared into her eyes, steely grey and fixed with raw seething emotion. He remembered wondering who he was actually talking to, because it wasn’t the girl he thought he knew. Sure, it had been awhile, and people change, but still-“You’re actually watching the news now Chris?”


“So you always said that watching the news was for those who were too afraid to make it”.

She huffed a little, some but not all of the righteous indignation had bled off. She seemed stung by his words. “I guess with the lockdowns and all I got boring”.

“Wow, you mean your life, your outlook, everything changed that much???”

“AM I TALKING TO AN IDIOT?!?” She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. On the one level, he felt that she enjoyed turning his interest in her into a chance to publicly humiliate him. “I can’t believe you act like you don’t know… EVERYONE’S LIFE HAS CHANGED, but not yours, I guess. Don’t try to follow me out, because that will make me feel that you’ve become a creep, and you don’t want to be creepy, trust me. I don’t want to see you again EVER. GOOD BYE!!!”

She made her way out of the café without looking back.

“See ya”, he had muttered over his coffee.

Devereau had mentioned mental instability was a byproduct of the “depersonalization” program they were pushing on people. He had also mentioned that the point was to secure extraordinary devotion and trust in the leaders of society.

He wasn’t sure the pharma industry qualified as one of these leaders, but he wasn’t going to rule that out. Certainly he felt no devotion, and even less trust towards a society that would launch a covert program upon its citizens. One thing was for sure, the events of the last few years were beginning to look more and more like the coordinated kind of campaigns one would associate with a war.

It was pretty difficult to interpret the plethora of new surveillance, control, and secrecy measures as somehow being to the benefit of the citizenry. Even if one chose to believe that the recent events required extraordinary powers to be granted to the medical industry, it didn’t follow that medical surveillance systems demanding total compliance were in any way proven to successfully combat medical crises. It looked to him that medical crises were at the very least being mined to greatly expand totalitarian controls worldwide. For one thing, he had never been given an explanation as to why medical records had to be tied to the incipient central bank digital currencies.

So, no he thought, Chris was wrong, his life had changed quite a bit. His eyes moved back to the sky. The person who had reached out to him with their cloud body had transformed. Now there was only that deep brooding belly above, threatening to drop rain.

The Dump, as he referred to it, was exactly that. The siding of the building hadn’t been subject to any maintenance at least since the voyage of Columbus. The porch light miraculously worked, shining down upon a rough front door. He was surprised that he had to key in on a weekday evening, everyone must be out elsewhere to tackle their homework, he surmised. The landlord, who had once been a student himself, and still thought of himself as one of the guys, was always bumming a beer, but never made the slightest gesture to fix anything.

Stepping into the kitchen, he was unsurprised to find every dish he owned was used and relegated to the unwashed stack careening out of the sink. At least they didn’t try that with his clothes, he thought. Opening the fridge, his once full package of lunchmeat was torn open, most of the contents gone. Three slices of ham remained. He grabbed some bread and cheese and sat down at the table. A bag of potato chips had some crumbs left, and an unopened can of pop hid beneath a pile of used fast food wrappers. His meager meal was set, and his mind turned back to all the unhappy thoughts of the day.

Adult life certainly wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be, and he couldn’t get past the notion that John was an a-hole working for shady interests, with prof. Devereau as his boy. A small thought started to form then, at the edge of his mind, like a dream that was providing a symbol the conscious mind couldn’t quite understand. It grew until it couldn’t be ignored, and finally he pushed the other thoughts aside and gave it its due; what, exactly is Covid?

Everyone had the made-for –TV version of course. It was the overplayed drama and the fear, and the attempt by people who all sounded alike to provide a conflicting narrative barren of any genuine proof, but loaded to the max with innuendo, suspicion, fake statistics and flashing lights. He had long ago grown tired of the infantile shock opera that was the “news”. On rare occasions, the news could provide small tidbits of worthwhile information, but the bulk of any broadcast was devoid of useful material. Worse, having had the great fortune of being involved in a couple of those incidents that made it on the news, he knew from personal experience that most of what they claimed was essentially, completely, irrevocably wrong.

Of course, this realization didn’t help in answering the question. What was Covid?

He took a long pull on his soda and let out a loud burp. Just then the front door swung open and in wandered Jim with Alicia in tow. His roommate waved grandiosely, didn’t wait for a reply, and swept into his room. Soon enough the peace was stomped out by the roar of Jim’s stereo, just in time for the last bite of his sandwich. Heading for his own cave, he plopped down at his desk to focus on homework. He saw at the corner of his computer screen that it was already closing in on 10:00pm. Tomorrow was going to arrive early, and first up was Devereau and the neurology of psychology.

“…I will be expecting detailed papers on the topic of neurological systems, their roles in behavior and the perceptual field. I will be looking for a working knowledge of how these systems underpin cognitive function.” The professors’ voice rose with the din and bustle of students eager to head for their next class…“Extra credit for anyone who can introduce the hard problem of consciousness into their research!”

The classroom was already a ghost town as Devereau bent over the desk to arrange his notes. No better time than the present…”Uh, professor-?”

“Yes-yes, they like to call me that”.

“Well uh, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. You see I need another committee member and-“.

“-And you want me to sit on your committee and advise you on your thesis.”

Devereau met his gaze.

“Meet me in my office in one hour and we will decide then”.

The last visit to the professors’ office had sent him into a rabbit hole he had no interest in investigating. He strongly hoped that this time would be different, and that he could simply move on with life and school. He told himself everything was normal as he crossed the campus, told himself repeatedly, despite that doomed feeling that he had already fallen into the rabbit hole, and there were no handholds anywhere to climb back out of it.

He stood outside the building with a half hour to spare. Deciding that it was too early to just show up, he found a convenient bench, and sat down with a sigh. Within moments, something caught his eye. It was Devereau hurriedly scooting across the landing, but what keyed in that now familiar sinking feeling was the figure working to keep up with the professor. He was a big man, although not overly tall, merely wide at the shoulders and the midsection. His short hair was dark, almost black, and his suit was as black as the briefcase he carried in one very large hand. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew this was John.

Almost automatically, he was up off the bench and in pursuit. This time he actually had a reason to be present-an obligation, really… Maybe this wasn’t the time to break this thing wide open, but then maybe it was. The lobby was open and empty, again no receptionist sat at the desk. He moved as quietly as possible into the hall, energized by the butterflies in his stomach.

This time they were in the professors’ office. The door had been set to close, but for some reason remained slightly ajar, just enough that Devereau’s voice was clear in the hall…”-Think you can control this thing, John? You think because the first time you captured the terrified and the quiescent that this meant you would forever dominate those with stronger minds and wills? I warned you the Covid narrative would lose steam, and now you have to fall back on the tried and true methods you weren’t happy with in the past.”

“Gerry”, the smooth talker was on game today.” My superiors need you to decide what the next best step should be. We are more than ready to take it. We already have religion, the media, and all the industries. Don’t worry so much, just analyze the data and give us your best recommendation. Look we are going to have a big meeting at Central this Sunday. I’m here to tell you that you need to be there, and come prepared”.

There was a sudden, significant pause.

“Look Gerry, we are taking this reshaping of personhood to new levels. You are going to meet other neurologists and cognitive psychologists who actually admire your work. This is a big career move; I don’t have to tell you what this means. But I will let you in on a little secret. I’ve been working with a team of high powered investors with very deep pockets, Gerry. They are prepared to kick in substantially to your program and to this university. We are all pretty excited to take this reshaping of personhood into its next phase. Gerry, you are in a position to change the world”.

Something made him then clear his throat loudly and rap his knuckles against the metal door. “Professor Devereau, excuse me, but I’m here for our committee meeting-“.

He stepped back as the door swung open. The big man stood before him, regarding him with black, deep set eyes.

“John was just leaving”, replied the professor. “Won’t you come in?”

The broad face with the deep set eyes looked almost comical in the way it was framed by the small ears. Expressionless, the eyes continued to regard him with a sense of annoyance as he addressed the professor over one broad shoulder.”I’ll call you Gerry, before Sunday. Maybe we can carpool”.

At that the big man shoved easily past and vanished down the hall.

This time he made suitably sure that the door was firmly shut, before standing at the front of Devereau’s desk. The professor was also standing, holding his reading glasses in one hand as he examined his student with tired, washed out blue eyes.

“So, what did you hear?”

The question was deceptively simple, almost easy to dismiss, so lightly had it been delivered. Yet he immediately knew that however he chose to answer was going to determine his very future. He decided to play it cool.

“It sounded like a job offer, professor”.

Devereau raised his eyebrows, a gesture that under better circumstances might have been interpreted as amusement. This wasn’t one of those times.

“And what kind of job do you think was in question?”

He heard that sound then. It had begun quietly, almost unnoticeably, but it was quite loud now, and growing. It was like the pressure one experiences while deep under water, a brilliant white noise that moves one to act, to seek the surface, and life giving air. The walls moved very close, bending in around him. Devereau’s eyes were locked onto his. It was moments before the dark abyss would open before him if he didn’t state the truth.

“John wants you to help him destroy humanity”.

The night was complete. It lacked absolutely nothing. The slight breeze was gentle, refreshing, just cool enough to make the small group feel alive. Above them shone the stars, silver white on either side of cloudy expanse of the Milky Way. The candle light danced with every change in the air. An unadorned hand, clutching a pen, moved in a cadence with the voice that provided the explanation for those seated at the table.

The pen in hand traced a first geometric form upon a blank sheet of paper. It came to life as the sound was pronounced…”K OWN UH”.

“K OWN UH”, the voice rasped, “for the first sound. Just so you know, it is the Rune of illness”.

There was a murmur around the table.

“AH S for the second sound, it carries the significance of speech”. The hand gestured with its pen, as if reinforcing the point, “AH S also contains the weapon!”

“F AY”, the pen traced a third figure on the paper, “is strife”.

“That certainly fits”, offered one voice in the dark.

“EE SUH”, the voice continued with the hand, “is death”.

No one spoke then, as the candle flickered and the fourth figure was drawn upon the paper.

“Yet the real question here, for this divination lies in the last Rune, for the number is then male, uneven and the stability of the curse is upset, made active. This last Rune T EER is the law”.

There was an exclamation of surprise and confusion as the hand wrote the final character to lift the paper to display the five Runes in sequence, which spelled out the curse, Covid. A woman reached out to take the paper, and examine the Rune row closely. Nodding, she passed the script over to the next person seated at the table, and the rasping voice went on…

“It is clear to me that Covid was intentionally made to cause chaos and loss. In this, it is a great challenge. The balance point itself is strife. In English, which still retains the core language of the Runes, every word is developed in a linear progression, thus every sound is fettered to a word, and from a word to a deed, yet in the final sound is its own binding after it takes its due.”

“So Covid does have an end”, a voice from the table offered again.

“Covid will be bound”. The rasping voice paused as the pen was set down. “Bound does not mean an end”.

Devereau nodded. It was a simple gesture. “So, do you think I should take the job?” Devereau was slouching like a man under a heavy burden. “Never mind, it isn’t a fair question. I’m already at the job of weaponizing the religious experience.”

“What does religious experience have to do with all this?”

“It’s the template for how the coordination of Covid works”. Devereau sat down heavily. “My part in this is the cognitive lead, but there are other branches of the program.”

“Other branches, professor-???”

Yes, the best funding is currently going into engineering the morphology of the human energetic field, but the cognitive aspect is the default program to achieve the control goals.”

“Control goals”.

Devereau folded his hands on his desk, as if measuring what he was going to say. “It’s all in our personhood. You’re a psychology student, so surely you understand that the person is the means and the tool through which we coordinate ourselves with the environment.”

“Yes,” he replied easily. “We used to call this the model of personality, but now we understand that the model of personhood is far more accurate and essential than personality, it relates to the core experience of the individual”.

Devereau nodded in agreement and continued, “The religious experience, in full intensity shatters the person. The previous model of personhood dies. It is this moment, before the symbols and rituals of ancient origin take hold, where the individual can be molded and prompted toward desired goals”.

“You mean to say that all this is perfectly understood?”

Devereau sighed. “It is recognized that when the person confronts a powerful condition that it cannot address, and cannot suppress that the result for most personhood models results in this breakdown. This confrontation between person and event is overwhelming. It dissolves the very cognitive processes the person uses to interpret, understand, and contextualize the event. This is often referred to as ego death. It is the point where the person’s defenses become inoperable.”

“So, the idea is to simulate a transformative religious experience for decided non-spiritual goals”. He plopped himself unceremoniously into an open chair. “But it sounds really dangerous’.

“It is. The person is literally destroyed. All is lost, the optimism, the trust in the future, even hope itself. A new and more robust model of personhood can result from this, but the process can take years-even a lifetime. ‘The Job’ as you call it, is all about translating this into a useful milieu.”

“Am I right in thinking that the reconstruction process is where the trappings of religion come to play?”

“Well, after the actual shattering takes place, there is a period whereby the model of personhood requires external support to rebuild; this is where the trappings, as you call them, really assume critical importance, yes.”

“Then there must be an actual conscious aspect to this professor. One must actively seek this assistance”.

Devereau leaned forward, his hands now tightly clenched.”Very good observation! I think I will serve on your committee…yes, but back to the point. ‘The Job’ is all about removing-or at least minimizing this essential component. This is where unpredictability and fanaticism arise. The structure of any ancient religion-say Buddhism is time tested in its employment of very specific rituals and disciplines that have verifiable success in supporting the new emerging model of personhood. However, if instead one substitutes ideologies, dogmas, and memes the result can easily move to unhealthy levels of devotion, tunnel vision, and an inability to construct a healthy personhood model. It’s all a very uncertain business.”

“And this is what we see today.”

‘’The Job’ is basically just a fancy substitution system. Once the shattering was accomplished through the deft use of Covid and the power structure of society, the supports of religion were substituted with authority figures, many of whom were simply created on the spot, from various fields. They were often chosen specifically for their lack of charisma, as they would be perceived by the public as serious in their bureaucratic and professional areas. The pressure and hard sell tactics overrun the budding model of personhood. The highly polarized and emotionally charged environment bulldozes the natural process, and inserts the idea of raw loyalty and subjugation that resists examination”.

He nodded.” In actuality then, we do not know if any of this will succeed in its aims. It may create, in the short term a core of pro-government fanatics, but it can also destroy the cognitive structures of countless people. I get the feeling professor, that this is more than a little monstrous.”

The candle, flickering in the gentle breeze upon the table was down to half its original height, wax flowing down its sides. The rasping voice answered a question from the shadows, far below the great trail of clouds and light in the night sky…

“…Yes Covid in a sense was bound as it was launched. We think everything in this world progresses from a matrix of possible actions. We have the world and its doings fixed in our minds. But all things actually just are, and the endings written in were never in doubt.”

“So, it’s good the Covid is bound.”

“In a sense.”

“I don’t understand”

“All things magical also involve their mirror. Some like to say that this entire world is nothing more than smoke on the surface of a mirror. Thus, in divining the word through Runic analysis, one must also divine its complement.”

There was a sudden unease around the table. A quiet nervous giggle arose, only to fail into silence. The hand and the pen returned to the paper, with the geometric characters now written in reverse order, next to the first, but on the same plane.

“With the mirror of the spell we have a mirror of significance for each Rune. So, from a binding the transform is to the endless expanse, from death to the hard materiality of surfaces, from selfish strife to generosity, from containing the weapon to the flow of the river into the sea, and from sickness to the brilliant gift of Prometheus.”


“Fire is the gift of the Gods.”

“Now I really don’t get it. The Runes have changed all of this from a horrible torture to some type of condition that brings us closer to the Gods and their gifts?”

“Indeed”, the rasping voice continued.”Our normal way is to assign good or bad to things according to the moment. We rarely are given to any wider perspective. Yet for some Covid is a cloak and they don it as they are able, for as long as it serves them. Once the cloth wears thin, and develops holes, they set it aside for the next one, having experienced all it had to give. Others will adopt the cloak, and they will come to believe that it is them in entirety. Nor will any amount of cajoling convince them to set it aside. Thus when another cloak is wrapped about their shoulders they must bear it together with their old choice. Covid can help us to cast off those worn out old cloaks, for only a fool would want them, when we could be burdened by only our current one, and dance light as a feather beneath the stars.”

Cover Picture: Pinterest


  1. This is a bit off topic, yet I feel an important observation.
    VT is in a very real sense a reflection of generic, abrahamic thought. What I do, what Jack does, is offer an alternative to the monotony.
    For those who would dismiss this, they must contend with the fact that certain figures in history, such as Crowley and Gudjieff, had their fingers in all the pies. What this means is simple, there is an active, non-abrahamic esoteric dimension to this world.
    Generic abrahamic thought is utterly ignorant of this esoteric current, so they act like there is no such current. They are utterly wrong.
    This piece is about science dissecting your innermost sacred space, depersonalizing it to use it against you. It is also about using an ancient, extant linguistic system to develop a spiritual image that cuts through the static to reveal deeper truth.
    If it wasn’t for Jack, and also for myself, you would never read any of this.
    I will end this with a question: why not continue to bring it to VT?

    • Because dearest Mike, they told me to take the death jab and I will never ever forgive them for that however, there were people on that site that did not do so and its probably worth posting content upon that site but I can read it here and will never ever read VT again.
      VT is a psyopp if possible worse than the Evangelical Zionists that they hate and how so? They pushed the vaxxines with more religious zeal than even those idiots like Haggee pushed the clot shots on their sheepel.
      I despise them if possible more than the Zionists. but the vaxxines were invented, and deployed by our dear US military establishment so you do know whom the enemy really is right? Right? Ask any disabled vet that got screwed by the VA for their service. Trust us we are here to help you.

        • To be tried for treason and upon being found guilty hung by the neck until dead:

          Signatories of the letter include: Ralph E. Reed, chairman of the Faith & Freedom Coalition; Timothy Head, executive director of the Faith & Freedom Coalition; James Dobson, founder and chairman of the Dr. James Dobson Family Institute; Robert Jeffress, senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas; Jonathan Falwell, chancellor of Liberty University; Jentezen Franklin, senior pastor of Free Chapel in Gainesville, Georgia; Jack Graham, senior pastor of Prestonwood Baptist Church in Plano, Texas; John Hagee, CEO and pastor of Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Texas; Richard Land, executive editor of The Christian Post and president emeritus of Southern Evangelical Seminary; David Olson, senior pastor of Heartland Church in Ankeny, Iowa; Gordon Robertson, CEO and president of The Christian Broadcasting Network; James Robison, founder and president of LIFE Outreach International; Jordan Sekulow, president and CEO of ACLJ Action; and Rabbi Tuly Weisz, president of Israel365 and editor of The Israel Bible.

      • Nine,
        I fully understand this. You know that I never endorsed the injections, even though it would have been much easier, and with far less hardship, had I done so. I recently lost another friend to the injections, who had developed debilitating neurological problems right after taking the bioweapon. I was browsing through the local newspaper today, which is no longer locally owned, and was treated to a half page ad hard selling the injections.
        I could go on, but I think the point is clear, that I do not support anyone who wishes to force this program of harm upon the people.
        I can understand your perspective, Nine. However, I also note that VT is currently running pieces that do expose the harm the bioweapon has caused.
        This is not an attempt to change your mind, it is merely the recognition that there is a strong push in the world today to damage and kill using abrahamic thought. I believe that offering an alternative to this syndrome is something I do, and that just perhaps, it might be a valid refuge for some who wish to blaze their own paths.

        • Beautifully said Mike, hell Johnny went to Palestine how could you ask anything more of a man to prove himself? I don’t hold a grudge and if anyone was betrayed it was me by my own mentor Gordon Duff. Nine has to learn sometimes you have let bygones be bygones, but I also appreciate his point that if you cross me, you’ve made an enemy for life. Justin asked me where I wanted it published and I told him you have your own authors page, stand by to deal with VT’s hasbara trolls.

          • Of course Jack you and Mike are correct as I did acknowledge that in my post however, forgive and forget? Well, very powerful people run things as evidenced by your Fitzgerald article as that was quite a stunning revalation that grudges of the elite go back to 1066 and William and of course the conquest of Ireland by the britts. “Fitzgerald was more Irish than the Irish” as the family went native since it makes sense the genocides of the Irish people through out history. The Irish people are devoted catholic as I point you to my Irish mother from county Cork.
            And the forced vaxxing of the Irish people and rampant immigration to destroy my people. If they need people why don’t they let Irish Americans return?
            The Brittish are protestant and threw out the Church centuries ago yet it appears this ages old battle continues.

          • I wouldn’t compare my history with anyone else’s, but I can say that for myself the issue of forgiveness has been front and center since I was very young.
            My own take on the matter is really too complex for a simple comment, but I will offer this much: There is a personal condition to every injury that I think Bruno Groening understood. In a very real sense this becomes a knot, a darkness and it prevents a clear flow of life force. If it becomes possible to trust beyond the knot, it is sometimes possible to dissolve it and to heal.
            Forgiveness then has an unwritten component, a destiny unrecognized. It has to do with healing the self.

          • Your thoughts on forgiveness is about the truest I’ve read, I too have struggled with this and I don’t suscribe to the modern thought on it. It is very complicated in my opinion.

    • VT is like a big septic system with the biggest turds floating to the top of the tank.

      With that said, true artists like John Coltrain speak the truth through sound and vibration as there was BC and AC in our world.

      In musical terms its Before coltrain then after coltrain.

      The world changed because of him. It did.

      and fuck you if you dissagree

    • John Lennon was more, I think of a means to telegraph trends seeded into society than any type of force for human emancipation.
      Humanity is becoming increasingly primitive, Nine, brought to you by the usual subjects.
      Thanks for reading.

  2. >>when we could be burdened by only our current one,
    >>and dance light as a feather beneath the stars.

    and that begs the next question: how to cast off even the current one, and dance with the stars, instead of only beneath them?

    • There are those who achieve this. However the completion of destiny cannot be reached without a truly transcendent development that most don’t believe is a development at all, so subtle it is. Without this step, one is simply practicing self erasure.
      I personally am not a proponent of this approach. In a practical sense, it is simply death, which makes the bulk of the purpose unavailable to those who could benefit from it.

      • In other words, the Savior instructed his Gnostic disciples to practice shining their inner light. His teaching regarding this skill involved the mastery of a suite of workings that were called the Seals. Each of the Seals involved significant inner work,
        The cloaks each of us are wrapped in are akin to the seals in that they require inner work to set aside. However, there is a component to our cloaks: of our destiny that is directly linked to our incarnation. Thus, when paired down to a small and light acoutrement, the cloak becomea a tool for understanding the dance of life.
        Casting aside even this one then involves the extinction of incarnation.
        The Gnostic perspective is similar in this sense to the Buddhist, that we can only achieve to the point of our own mastery.
        Ascending to the realms of the stars then requires the development of this mastery.

    • Thanks Phil.
      This piece could easily be a book. I doubt, however that many would want to read it. The scientific research being funded, and thus advanced today is, as Cliff Carnicom notes, bringing up the very question of human survival. Science has been so given over to self extinction protocols that I view it now as the playground for nihilists, transhumanists, and self deceived deniers of life.
      Runic analysis is pretty clear about all this, which brings me back to my earlier observation concerning our time. We are being subject to a rite of passage, a test of mettle. It is being demanded of us to take the next step.

        • Honestly, I cannot think of a single book that is currently in print which I could endorse without reservations. For example, there are some excellent scholarly studies, which provide valuable and verifiable information, but only to a point. They completely ignore the obvious magical, cosmological, and mystical significance, which is there for all to see.
          I absolutely find the new age authors, many of whom are Jewish, to be not only useless, but damaging. Stay very far away from anything that claims to offer divinatory systems.
          Runes are not a simple topic, nor one that can be given their due with a single volume.
          I would recommend first any scholarly study, despite the misgivings, because they honestly do try to understand the Runes.
          If you want a primer and have the focus, I recommend the work of Jackson Crawford for a linguistic approach. He won’t help with the mysticism, but he offers a practical and scholarly bent that is based on genuine information.

          • I reviewed the montalk piece on the Runes with some interest. While I would never choose his language, his summation is one I largely agree with in regards to the root and origins, but that is where our similarity ends.
            First, there is no evidence that Odin hung upside down on the tree. Nowhere in the lore will anyone find such a statement, yet it is constantly repeated ad adnauseum by modern writers. I personally feel no urge to alter the record to meet current expectations, and believe the upside down part to be an attempt to synchronize Rune lore with other systems, not an authentic understanding.
            Second, the meanings he assigns to the Runes are neither precise or accurate. Instead, they are generic and popular.
            Thirdly, the Elder Futhark is by far the one that attracts the most attention, yet it is also the one subject to the most reconstruction. This paradox really isn’t, because the modern mind seems to enjoy syncretic and spurious associations. The Elder Futhark is wide open to this approach simply because it is so much of a mystery.
            That said, there is a geometric presence to Runes that connects them to the crystaline structure which is antecedent to this reality. Montalk translates this into a system of dimensions, which is odd, but he appears to be essentially stating that the origin of Runes is beyond this physical plane, which I acknowledge as self evident.
            He does not seem to understand that Runes operate on multiple levels simultaneously, nor does he seem to recognize the cosmological structure implicit in Runes. Further, he evinces zero understanding of Ing.
            In short, I find his take only moderately interesting.

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