The Orion Machination or How The Gods Learned To Laugh Without Being Drunk

by Alfred Zeisel

(c) Alfred Zeisel



I'm confused, very much so. You see, I have no body. Not nobody, but NO BODY! The shock is overwhelming, the subsequent engulfing blackness is nature's way to deal with that kind of horror.

Slowly I notice that I am kind of awakening. I don't know how I got here in the first place. Again I realize with a shock that I have no body. Wait: no body? That means I am dead! Blackness.

Then I am awake again. Agonizing it is, this disembodied condition. I am aware of that. Amidst all the spiritual pain I realize that awareness is one of the tools at my disposal. So I'm not completely helpless. I'm less confused now.

Okay, I take a look around - yes, I can also see - and I see many people coming and going, some obviously policemen, some ambulance men. Their attention is fixed on something on the floor, a body. I move to it, smoothly, without effort: Lying on its back, I see blood stains on the white shirt, one apparently from a shot to the heart, or where I think the heart might be located, the other one in the belly. And then I see the face, it looks somehow familiar and suddenly, with a shock, I see into my face. This is me, and this time I fully realize: I'm dead, and I pass out...

When I come around, I'm still hovering over my face. Trying to process that I'm dead I feel a gigantic hole where there has been my body, an tremendous loss fills this hole, a loss so unbearable that I black out, again...

Slowly I register that I'm awake. Without a body which is dead, lying there on the ground. If I'm dead, why do I still have this feeling of an 'I'? I have to figure that out. Okay, I have my mind, I can think, I can be aware. Next question: What has happened to me? I don't know. While trying to remember I detect that I can compartmentalise. Yes, I see quite some chambers there, one for each sense. In every compartment are stored fragments of the six senses. That's how I can remember. Yes, there are six senses, the five you all are acquainted with, and the thinking sense, the thoughts, the wanting or hating something. And somehow all is connected to two main feelings: attraction and repulsion, wanting or hating something.

Okay, I'm less confused now, but still disturbed: who killed me and how? Who dared to take my body from me, my precious beloved body, with all those sensations. And suddenly I remember that extremely addictive sexual sensation, with my stiff entering that mysterious hot, wet Venus trap, a sensation I right now crave so enormously that it hurts. And I black out...

I am awake now, once more. I'm up there, in one corner of the room as if magnetically drawn to that point where the three surfaces of two walls and the ceiling meet. Down there, amidst the hustle and bustle of policemen and ambulance men, I see my body. This time its on a stretcher and ambulance men shove it out.

I try to remember who has killed me, I enter the visual compartment, I see pictures of myself in interaction with other people and I lose myself in my encounters with women, one especially, I can feel her sugar, her sweetness, her person, her self, and her body. Her body, how I crave it! Now I miss two bodies, the loss grows exponentially, and I pass out. Again.

When I come to, again, I remember having passed out quite often. I have to stop that. How? Normally I have friends and their advice. But I have none now. No guardian angel here, contrary to conventional religious or esoterical lore. Also no white light in sight. I try to interact with one of the remaining policemen but he doesn't hear me, even when I shout. He just acts strange, as if in deep thought. So I'm all alone, without help, without being able to interact, a lost soul, devoid of any abilities in the material world. Another wave of horror hits me, the concept of "don't pass out" keeps me awake. Okay, I've now detected something new: I can steer my consciousness. I guess I am a soul who has to detect what kind of abilities there are at disposal.

What I need now is a safe place, a point of fixed location, where I always can return to when I'm confused by some apparitions. And I remember now the Egyptian Book Of The Dead, which to my knowledge was never interpreted right. Because it is all about a preserved body and well known objects used by the recently deceased, to which the bodiless soul, after embarking on a perilous journey of self realization, can always return to after setbacks, thus being able to focus anew.

Okay, my body. Where is it? And instantly I'm in the ambulance van, hovering over my body, which is covered by a blanket with blood stains. Not much comfort there. But at least some secure location where I can turn to.

So back to the question: Who killed me? And why? I recollect how to enter the compartments of stored images, and I'm delving into one, a recent one. I see two men, hovering over my body, I'm in that body and it hurts, the pain in my belly is excruciating, and excruciating is the spiritual agony to be completely powerless and at the mercy of some predetermined fatal outside forces, in the gestalt of two primitive men; one of these men, friendly eyes looking into mine, has words coming out of his mouth, sounding like "it won't hurt". A flash, combined with a thunder, emits from his gun, an unbearable pain in my heart fills my whole being and then there is blackness...



Normally, when I get these letters about conspiracy theories, I leaf through them, and if there is an interesting style, I read a bit, either laughing or getting bored, before throwing them into the waste paper bin, basketball-like. But not this time. Not because of pages full of descriptions of flying objects making whirring sounds, or because of the location where these observations have been made, a military zone in Waldviertel, north west of Vienna, no, the handwritten pages fascinated me, the rhythm intrigued me, the contents seemed to transport a kind of truth.




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