After reading Gerard Cambri's website, about an original matrix, I bought his first SiFi book : The Turmoil of the Invisible Ones . I trranslated a few extracts with systran for the most part to give you an idea of the content. Warm whishes -- Marc
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...

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 plus and minus, of attraction and repulsion… There was then the advent of the man in the universe… Then the thought started to interfere at the same time on the matter and energy, creating ideological currents which directed the latent forces, which came to disturb the universal harmony. The concept of good and evil intervened… Evil against which you will have to fight, William Stone. On the planetary theatre which is yours and without still being able to understand the fundamental motivations of this gigantic experiment in which we take part on a cosmic scale.*»
I could not prevent me from intervening and it is perhaps what he wished.
«* Do you mean that we are all manipulated? That we do evolve in a test-tube universe held by the hand of a scientific God who himself is perhaps the subject of another experiment, wanted by another God? …*»
For the first time, a ghost of smile fleets on his creased face. A smile contradicted by the bitterness which welled up of his diaphanous eyes.
«* Nobody is manipuled, except by the forces resulting from the man which in their turn create disturbances in his near energizing environment and are prolonged in what you could call…the Anti-world. The original matrix which allowed the creation of the universe. It is a neutral zone where the thought shapes and gives rise to all the entities resulting from imagination…
Universal conscience… God, according to the church…
It is the receptacle of all the cosmic thoughts, the multidimensional place where the products of psychic energies crystallize. In this period when humanity leans towards the evil, the ideological currents which result of it determined the achievement in the antimonde 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 antimonde 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 antimonde. 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 antimonde, 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 Antimonde…

----

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.







Here are others extracts from the two 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, it 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 very 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 moral 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.


... TO BE CONTINUED



Now, here are some extracts from "The Battle of Gods", by Gerard Cambri.
________________________________________


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 part 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.