…And so, with a touch he had turned water into wine. Or more accurately, shadows into faith. Upon hearing the news, Orpheus Ziev put his head down onto his newspaper (fine Braille dots patterning his cheek with news of Libya). He had thought he had already quelled this outbreak of spirituality. Apparently not. Words would not be enough…more drastic measures would have to be taken. But….(he reached for his coffee, freshly ground from the nuts of a Brazillian plant soon to be extinct, but which is renowned for its almost smoky flavor) he had time. He had all the time in the world. (Libya’s plight faded from his face, the recent past already tossed aside for the ‘here and now’).
Orpheus stood at the window of his office, letting the winds that swept high above the city breathe cool air into his face. What did he have to do to make the people see? Did he have to walk on water? (A simple matter of creating a telekinetic plane directly below the film of surface tension). Did he have to turn bread and fish into a feast? (This could be done by transferring food from the future into the past…tricky logistically, but still more feasible than some of the odd dimensional side-shifts Orpheus had seen his grandmother use). And yet…it was not his goal to portray himself as some super-powered savior. His platform was built around being the everyman…the person all people could look up to, and dream of being. He was the farm boy who had gone to the big city…he was the orphan who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps. He was not a messiah, could not be a messiah.
But he knew someone who could.
The day was of perfect clarity, the sun shining down and illuminating the grass in wavering virid sheets. Trees, their leaves dappling the light like a child’s hole-puncher through construction paper, sway in a southeastern breeze. On the lawn, people are gathered, staring up at a hastily constructed stage. On the stage is a podium, finished with white paint (still not completely dry). And behind the podium is a man: he stares straight into the sun without even realizing it, running his hands quickly over seemingly blank pieces of paper. He begins to speak:
“I have failed you. But not for lack of trying. While I struggled like Atlas to move the world, and bring it into a golden age, another man eclipsed it in shadow. Even now he gathers disciples, brainwashed slaves to his cause…his endgame in sight, but as opaque as when it all began. And I stood by, and could do nothing: for what rights do I have? I am but a senator…I lead no armies. I have no allies. And while I stood in his path, and shouted my righteous words at his followers, I was but a cricket in a hurricane. Though I will continue to fight…I will need help. Stand with me. Stand behind me. Stand by me and repel this force of darkness, for though he claims holiness I believe he has been sent by the devil himself to tempt us all into our graves…”
The speech is, for once, unimportant. No one will remember it, for another even this day will eclipse it. Those who recorded it will find the sound file corrupted, replaced by a choir singing halleluiahs. As Orpheus Ziev speaks, something appears in the sky, gleaming with the light of the guiding North Star. The thrum of harps reverberates in the air, and all present report intense feelings of joy…
The angel descends, all glittering gold and niveous cloth. He appears almost miragelike, shimmering between planes of vision. Alighting on the stage (but feet not touching the ground, not touching that corrupt stuff from which man was made), he spread columbine wings wide, as if to wrap the world in soothing down. Sunlight that struck him seemed somehow brighter, as if sent directly from the dreams of one’s youth.
“Children of the Lord, knoweth me as the angel Ambriel.” His voice was milk and honey, a violin strung with lavender played with a buttered bow of spider’s silk. “I have come to warn thee that the Adversary is in thy midst”. He reached out to the crowd, light spilling from his fingers. “He walks amongst you shrouded in shadows, preaching words of corrupted light. Know him, for he is Atticus Blair.” There were gasps in the crowd. Orpheus Ziev noticeably leaned against his podium. “This fiend wishes to plunge this Earth into the seas of Chaos. He may not be stopped by mortal means, but there is hope!” Ambriel turned to Ziev, placing a hand on his forehead. Light played through Ziev’s blond curls. “Orpheus Ziev has been chosen by the Lord to fight off the Fallen One and restore peace to this Earth. Follow him like Euphrates, and turn not back…for once fallen into the darkness there can be no redemption.” Orpheus raised his hands shakily. “Me? But…I’m just a man…” Ambriel grasped Orpheus’ hands, and folded them into the traditional gesture of prayer. “Thou art a man, but the Lord stands at thy back. Embrace him and thou shalt not ever stumble nor fall.” Orpheus bowed his head. “I…I shall accept my destiny.”
At this point, a man stepped forward from the crowd. “Hey, you feathered freak, get off the stage…d’you think we’re stupid? Do you think you can get away with this half-brained political stunt?” Ambriel turned to him slowly, his face still crossed with a beatific smile. “Non-Believer, open your eyes. I sense proof is necessary…then let it be so.” He raised a hand. “Thine mother lost the use of her legs years ago…but let her now walk to me.” Ambriel stepped off the stage, floating slowly toward the ground. Under a tree sat a woman, not yet old, in a wheelchair. A blanket covered her legs, which were clearly atrophied and useless. Ambriel extended a hand to her. “Come to me, daughter of Eve.”
And the lame woman stood up, and took the angel’s hand. Tears streamed from her eyes. “May your wounded be healed. May your sick become well. Come to me and be healed.” And one by one, the angel cured the crippled and the dying. Some of the crowd collapsed in glossolalic fits, others sang hosannas in perfect pitch.
It was truly a visitation from heaven.
Such stories proliferated, spread like the winds of butterflies’ wings. There was no proof that what happened wasn’t a genuine miracle.
But let’s delve a little deeper…here, on a website with no formal name. Odd flashing GIFs coat a black desktop. The forum tabs are bizarre…‘The 4 Wall’, ‘Mysticism and Gods Among Us’, ‘The Missing Link: Aliens and Metahuman Development’, ‘Fiction in Nonfiction’. There is no copyright. The site claims not to have been updated since 1999, minutes before people feared the 2K crash. But here, on the front page: ‘The Ambriel Ruse’. Let’s click through.
The page is unnerving. Psychedelic GIFs spiral in the background. There are links to pirated versions of the works of Philip K. Dick. Blurred photos of a man in a blindfold hover next to the text. A dead link leads to ‘The VALIS theory: Creationism in Pink Light’. And then there’s the article…describing it is useless. So let’s just read it ourselves:
Much is being made of the recent appearance of the angel Ambriel. However his heavenly nature is based on erroneous conjecture and an incomplete grasp of the laws that govern our universe. In this essay I will examine each feat of during the Political Intervention to prove the hypothesis that Ambriel is actually Orpheus Ziev…and Orpheus Ziev is in fact the powerful precog known as Premonition. Due to the undocumented nature of the Kansas Incident, I will try to refrain from referencing it unless absolutely necessary.
Let us begin with the corruption of sound files during Ziev’s speech: telepathic interference with the recording device’s themselves could allow for an overwriting of prerecorded files…this also accounts for any of the purely mental phenomena that appeared captured on film later in the incident. As thought is composed of electrical processes, and recordings are sensitive to such, projection of mental energy in the form of disruptive waves could easily cause this phenomenon. At this point, the angel descends. Flight is the most simple of telekinetic processes, as even the most unskilled telekinetic individual quickly masters self-levitation (as telekinetic mass of the body is always equal to 0 in synapse-musculature reactions…for more information see article ‘physiology of psionics, section II). The light that surrounded the angel could have been an artificial advanced LED emitted by the artificial halo (see Kansas Incident file for hypothesis on psionic-boosting mobiüs device), or possibly caused by slight telekinetic pressure applied to the optic nerves of the audience. Similar light was used during the entire incident. The harp was created by similar telekinetic pressure to the brain, firing synapses that control processing sounds. All similar auditory and visual phenomena were caused in this manner, as were any emotional manipulations. All present at the event, or those who watched the event should get checked for microscopic strokes caused by alteration of blood flow due to this telekinetic pressure.
At this point, Ambriel directly addressed Orpheus Ziev. Now is as good a time as any to discuss the nature of Ziev’s powers, and how this is possible. Firstly, let us take as a postulate that Ambriel is not an actor, a hologram, etc. It is the nature of some forms of precognition that the user not only sees the future, but they can alter its very nature (see case study ‘Captive Market’). Other precogs are capable of ‘jumping’ between adjacent timelines, typically very similar ones (see case study ‘Ubik’). Now, as these are not precogs in the proper sense of the word, let us use the technical term, ‘psis’. A third type of psi is capable of traveling backward in time (see case study ‘Martian Time-Slip’). These are all very rare abilities, but they have been well documented. Another type of psi, considerably more common, is a telekinetic. Depending on the strength of the mental power, some other faculty is often sacrificed. Note that Ziev is blind, though no other obvious abnormalities can be noted at this time. Now then, the hypothesis is that Ziev is a future-altering precog, capable of backward jumps through time. It is unclear if he can access accessory timelines, though it should not be discounted. Ziev also appears to possess a degree of telepathy, though the extent is unknown. To perform the Ambriel stunt, Ziev simply took his future self (dressed as the angel) and slipped backward through time to meet his past self…whom, having already come up with the idea, was fully prepared for this bizarre occurrence. If one is still not convinced, watch Ambriel’s head movements on film…while his eyes are covered by a mask, it should be noted that he tracks movements by turning the side of his head towards the disturbance, rather than observing it. Ziev can be observed performing a similar motion.
Back to the events at hand: either through telepathic suggestion, or organic thought, a man challenged the authenticity of Ambriel. At this point, the ‘angel’ healed a paralytic woman. This was done by creating a new nervous circuit, bypassing the spinal trauma, and strengthening the muscle by quickly tearing and re-attaching muscle fibers to simulate heavy exercise. After performing this feat, the ‘angel’ healed several others…while each case will not be covered here, some of the main types of healings will be addressed: cancers were cured by telekinetically scanning and removing all abnormal cells. Bacterial infections were similar, though they may have been forced to lys through pressure rather than true removal. Viral infections were removed as each active site was twisted to prevent reproduction within the cell. All nervous, bone, or muscular damage was healed in similar manner to that of the paraplegic woman. Deformities were twisted into shape in a manner similar to plastic surgery, all pain sensors sent the message that all was well. During this time, people began ‘speaking in tongues’ and singing in harmony. Glossolalia was induced by telepathically inducing seizures, either through pressure, or sending telepathic imagery that could not be correctly processed (ex, hypercube, full fractal pattern, the universe as a whole). Ziev was not affected due to the extra portion of his brain that grants him his abilities (see article: Physiology of Psis). The singing was, quite bluntly, autotuned…telepathically altering the sound waves so that they attained the correct pitch.
This was naturally immensely draining on the young psi, who masked his escapade by a week of ‘meditation’. The truth is that he nearly died due to psychic overload…a wretched mess, unable to tolerate sound, light, even the softest touch, food, or water. I like to imagine that he lay in bed, his head under his pillow, blood running from his eyes, nose, mouth, even the pores of his skin, the synapses in his brain gouging new pathways that were never meant to be. He would be heaving up his guts, alternately screaming nonsense and profanities at his servants. Whatever the case, Ziev survived, composed himself, and claimed to have gone on a spiritual journey. You now know the truth of the matter, the truth of the Ambriel Ruse.
[For more articles such as this one see:
‘Mercy, Requiem, Bang!’—How the World Ended, and What it Means for Us: Apocalyptia as predicted by the Klein Dossier and the Author’s Own Experience.
The Sound of Silence: The Music of the 4 Plane of Existence
The Return of Dorian Gray: Dynasties]
Written by A.G
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