Phaze Ii Tao/Rha
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PHAZE II TAO/RHA Alexi K. Mersentes Copyright © 2008 by Alexi K. Mersentes. Library of Congress Control Number: 2007904158 ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4257-6652-8 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmit- ted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. This is a work of fi ction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fi ctitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book was printed in the United States of America. To order additional copies of this book, contact: Xlibris Corporation 1-888-795-4274 www.Xlibris.com [email protected] 38328 This book is dedicated to those who burn true CONTENTS 1st Dimension 1 ......................................................................................12 2 ......................................................................................26 3 ......................................................................................37 4 ......................................................................................49 2nd Dimension 5 ......................................................................................68 6 ......................................................................................76 7 ......................................................................................82 8 ......................................................................................87 9 ......................................................................................93 10 ......................................................................................96 11 ......................................................................................99 12 ....................................................................................102 13 ....................................................................................113 14 ....................................................................................126 15 ....................................................................................132 16 ....................................................................................138 17 ....................................................................................149 18 ....................................................................................155 19 ....................................................................................173 20 ....................................................................................190 21 ....................................................................................202 3rd Dimension 22 ....................................................................................218 23 ....................................................................................236 4th Dimension (Hyperspace) 24 ....................................................................................256 The Phaze series takes great delight in exposing you to Taboo #1. No, it has nothing to do with devious psychosexual issues. This taboo is much more terrifying. It is the taboo against talking or thinking about The Other. The Other? The Other has many names—the subconscious, hyperspace, Alien Dream Time, the Shadow—and the reason why it is the #1 taboo, is because the veils hiding The Other from us are thinning. We are fast approaching a day when The Other will be in our bedrooms, on our streets, everywhere revealed. It is fear over this impending epic shift that has created this taboo. It is our destiny to commune with The Other, nothing can stop it, but how we commune, and what communion looks like are up to us. The process is in high gear, the veils are very thin, and admittedly, The Other is familiar, weird and dangerous—beautiful/scary/hopeful—not much different than the world we think we know so well. Phaze is for your edifi cation and amusement. Phaze is also meant to shake things up. This taboo must be broken. Buy the ticket take the ride, AKM P.S.-author is not responsible if cosmic forces of great and terrifying power seek out those who decode the ancient&secret spells hidden in this book contact author @: myspace.com/phazetrilogy “Sometimes it causes me to tremble . .” Johnny Cash 1st Dimension 1 Of all the Big ‘n Dangerous Questions: God? Life? Death? Where does all the sewage go? Is a question so Big ‘n Dangerous that religion has run from it like a plague. Philosophy/academia have betrayed their very nature by avoiding it. As for Joe and Jane Six-Pack, they’ve buried their heads in a TV, hoping to escape the mere thought of it. And the most Big ‘n Dangerous Question is . Why is the world so weird? People speak of Intelligent Design and sensible quantum realms (well at least down to the electron), but no one speaks of The Weird World. Weirdness doesn’t aid survival or evolution. Doesn’t make anyone smarter. Weirdness won’t solve any problems, yet it’s present everywhere, in everything. Why? Why do people see wisdom-spewing bipedal boxes and munchkin janitors claiming to be from the Klab Nebula? Why DejaVu? Why do we worship metaphors? Why bumble bees, platypuses? Why magick? 12 Phaze II 13 Why is the moon exactly 1/400th the diameter of the sun, and orbiting at just the right distance, that when the moon eclipses our star, day turns to night? Why? The necktie dates back to an ancient Canaanite ritual—the old noose around the neck (WE OWN YOU!)—and the United States Military is headquartered in a giant pentagram (THE MOST OCCULT SYMBOL THERE IS!)—and everyone just accepts these as normal. Why so much cultural weirdness? Why a Burning Bush, prophets, messiahs? Why? Because we live in a Salvador Dali/M.C. Escher painting with an epic space jam fl owing from every horizon, and if that weren’t enough, the entire Jungian Archetype is boogying at our side like there’s no tomorrow. That’s right, we live in a Surreal Empire brimming with irony where the only law is pirate law. Anything is possible. Everything is everything. There is no end. Melting Clocks. Up is Down. Non-elcudian space. (‘IS’ is the primal binder, the phantom qualifi er. ‘IS’ is ultimate relativity. The word instantly limits a statement, like a restrictor plate, but speaking without it, one either sounds like a mega genius or suffering poet. I am neither, so I use it.) And of all the rampant weirdness is the weirdest thing of all: Love. Galloping herds of day-glow Yetis don’t compare. Love negates all theories. Love transcends mind and matter. Love gives us the courage to jump. It justifi es life. Love makes us go further. It also erects mountains of fear, it clouds our senses, makes us do things we normally would never do. Love has caused me to enter the Coffee Sack with a rose clutched behind my back and with a letter in my pocket that confesses my affection for a soul who slayed me at fi rst sight. But this love/fear matrix stymied me for four months, held destiny at bay as I journeyed through the darkness of rejection, the fear of it being over with one crushing ‘Not Interested.’ And then I’d never be able to 14 Alexi K. Mersentes come in here again to savor the earthy elixirs. The corporate java around the corner would be my only option. I’m taking a huge risk. Love is great and all, but coffee is happiness. My hands are cold as sliced cow tongue, mouth fi lled with glue. Thorns from the single yellow rose (for friendship) pierce my fi nger pads. Something fl oats up my nose. I dare not pick. A tiny pop echoes around my sinuses. My eyes water. I hear cellophane crumbling. The walls warp. The fl oor bows and buckles. I see the world sideways. Jim, the barista behind the counter, turns to taffy. He instantly snaps back to his non-taffy state. “Let go,” he pleads in his feminine way. He holds the top of my coffee, I the bottom. “I messed up. It’s not decaf!” I release the cup. The object of my affection is nowhere in site. Now sirens are going off in my head. I’ve done six dry runs. Extrapolated a 99.99% guarantee that she’d be at the register. She was even there 80 seconds ago when I did my fi nal external pass-by. But now she is not. What ‘is’ matters more than what ‘should,’ even if it ‘shouldn’t.’ Then she appears through swinging doors, a trainee in tow. The trainee is the .001% gunning down my statistical 100% guarantee. Her name is Jaz. She’s athletic, small, and lean with a dark brown mane streaked with bronze, is sometimes bi-spectacled, more than a bit elfi sh, and is the perfect melding of cute beauty, brains, and comic book store/vintage chic. And the clincher that won her my Most Desirable: She’s a hardcore gamer. Computer. Consol. Hologame. Loves it all. She even vacationed in South Korea, the Mecca of gaming. The day she walked into my store and bought three MetaSledge fi gures (from the Hologame of the same name), was the day I decided destiny had fi nally assigned me a cosmic lover. “Hi,” she mouths and goes about her duty. James hands me my reengineered Latte. After a bout of hypertension, I realized that if I was going to drink fi ve cups of Phaze II 15 Joe a day, an excuse to bask in Jaz’s glory, some of them better be decaffeinated. I wave my memory stick. Transaction complete. (I’m not one of those chumps, who for anemic tax breaks and free groceries, succumbed to the Hex Implant, which allows one to simply wave their wrist and