Beatrice wants to know
Book zero

#Beatrice Leaving the Premises

[from Chapter 20, The Virus, in LUNATIX]

Richatville, AD 2191, August 20th. On the bottom of the pit beneath the Eye of Africa. Beatrice, Saturn and Rolf—old Rolf. Talking. Tense.

“Aunt Beatrice, are you certain that this will work?”

“Yes, Saturn. It will. Communicate your father’s orders to Rolf. He needs to know.”

“Orders from Kronos?” Asks Rolf only for the sake of conversation.

“One, actually. Here it is, translated to the readers’ English: 21910820 1200ZULU 5TH STATE EXEC NORETURN.”

“Not my English. Can you make any sense of it? Of the syntax after the date and time. I’ve got these.”

“According to my French, the fifth state is me. Rather the so-called Bose-Einstein condensate that patches my wound in the chest. Then EXEC is a classic command: exec replaces the current program in the current process.”

“The Eye of Africa,” infers Saturn, “must have a specific crystal arrangement; like an intentional fractal distribution to accomplish a unique function.”

“Any idea what kind of a function?” asks Rolf to calm his pulse down.

“No idea.”

“How about NORETURN, what does it mean?”

“Pretty straight forward. My father will die in the process. He lived for Astarte, for the Golden Age. Both are gone. He wants to be gone. His raison d’être has been fulfilled.”

“Wait, w–wait a minute. Kronos gone means no more time. The clocks will stop? The pulsars? The stars? What is going to happen?” Rolf jumps to conclusions.

“Compose yourself, Rolf. We are about to find out in ten minutes.”


Nine minutes later.

“Rolf! Lock the door behind you. Keep your eyes and ears closed. Take a deep breath and hold. Saturn will open the door when it’s over.” Speaks Beatrice throwing a glance at the red mark across the gate in the floor. “Saturn, are you with me?”

“Ready to go, Aunt Beatrice.” He positions himself next to her, a step aside, a step behind, for support.


Beatrice strips her golden bra down, hurriedly rolling it over her waist and hips and legs. She is naked now, like Saturn next to her. But who can notice? The full spectrum light, originating out of her pierced heart, floods the pit.

Saturn wished to count in nanoseconds, how long will it take to reach the crystal above in the Eye of Africa. Less than one nanosecond. He cannot refine more.

Orbiters and drones, ships and sensors record a steady beam of light, whiter than white, exiting from Mauritania, aiming at and hitting planet Jupiter across its equator.

Same orbiters and drones, mostly those equipped with long range sensors, record the most unexpected astronomical phenomenon. Planet Saturn has suddenly moved in polar orbit of planet Jupiter. Instead of circling it, Saturn rains a constant stream of electricity upon Jupiter.

The giants of the skies are colliding. Saturn descends over Jupiter’s North Pole. The electrical storm intensifies. For everyone in the Solar System, it seems that one planet – the upper one – is about to ‘eat’ the other – the lower one.

The two white discs merge into an eight. Then the eight grows into a wider, brighter, disc. Jupiter is no more. Saturn is no more. The beam of light – constantly pointed at the center of Jupiter – departs, like a high speed train, from Earth. What is even harder to conceive, the trailing photons of this beam actually behave like the tail of an outgoing train. When they reach destination, a new star erupts in the skies.

The Second Sun.


Easter speaks. To the four corners of the Earth. To planets and moons. To stations and ships. To colonies and cities.

“The war is over. Consuming evil, my parents are no more. Time is no more. You can’t sense that yet because my brother Saturn feeds you inertia. This won’t last. It cannot. My joy? Where is it? I do not know. I am lost. And desperate. Alone. Bear with me.”


Thirty-five minutes later. The bottom of the pit.

“Aunt Beatrice, Aunt Beatrice! Are you all right?” Saturn is scared. Beatrice, on her knees, exhausted, drags her breath.

“Unlock the gate. Let Rolf come close.”

Saturn hurries to execute her order. “Aunt Beatrice! I–I found Mother Rebecca. She is here. Stuck to the door. Mother Rebecca? Mother Rebecca? Please, can you hear me?”

Rebecca nods, smiles and jumps on her feet. “Here I am. There and back again!”

Beatrice makes big eyes. Bigger than she ever did. “Rebecca. Oh, Rebecca dear. Happy to see y– …Come closer … Closer! I said.”

She approaches, as told. “What is wrong? Everything all right? I wish to…”

“Don’t!” Shouts Beatrice. “I know what you’re carrying inside you.”


“Did [no-name]… Have you been touched?”

“Er… Not sure. Can’t remember. Don’t know what to remember. No idea.” Concludes Rebecca on a naughty note.

“Oh Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, take me, take me now!”

And the tired fairy of the desert is gone, nowhere to be found down and around the pit.

Rebecca remains to watch, perplexed.

The lock turns green, the door opens, Rolf comes up to the floor.

“Rivkah! Oh my little Rivkah. You are back. Finally!! Thank God!”

“What god?”

#Beatrice Joining Her Groom

“Oh Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, take me, take me now!”

“Hello! You’ve been taken. I welcome you in My Presence. My lovely bride. You are home now.”





“Am I here?”

“You are here.”

“Oh my God…”


“What… how could she… Rebecca is… I- I don’t… How is this…”

“Look, Beatrice, I can make it short for you, in an instant you’ll get to find out everything you wish to know. But then, what a shame for the readers. They won’t have the chance to understand one bit of it. Shall I make it more dramatic, like a narrative, for those living under time to get a glimpse? Tell me, Beatrice.”

“First kiss me. Kiss me again! Like our first kiss, just longer.”

“As long as you wish. Every second up here is an eternity.” Yasu hugs and kisses His bride. For a second.

“May I?”

“Don’t understand, You asking permission? from me?”

“I do.”

“But why? You don’t need my permission.”

“I don’t, but you do. May I?”

“Yes, You may.”

“Rebecca is carrying the serpent. In her womb.”

“How comes?”

“[no-name] has touched her. The very minute of its deletion from a set of realities and from all backups, from any memory.”

“But Rebecca is barren.”

“She is. The serpent needed a womb, even a barren womb.”

#Beatrice Asking the Right Questions

“What is the serpent seed?”

“Not even a seed. An eponym for the name of the serpent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You knew Astarte.”

“You gave her to me, whole. I fixed her, I straightened her ways, I took care of her. Until…”

“Until a pair of dragons killed her.”

“A week ago.”

“Come,” Yasu takes her hand, inviting with an open gesture of His other hand, “come with Me, let’s cross this river together. I wish to show you something.”

Following her Groom across the crystal waters, Beatrice notices a sea of cubes to the left, a city of gold gliding far away to the right, and only green grass and blue trees ahead. “What is this?, heaven?”

“My studio. Yes, from down inside any of the cubes back to the left, it looks like the ultimate heaven. The heaven of heavens. So it is. But for you and Me, just My studio.”

“The trees are so beautiful, and the grass, this fascinating green grass! Oh…”

“Beatrice! Focus!” Leaving her hand, Yasu deploys a new screen, like opening a scroll out of nowhere, and pings His pointer against it.

Ping! -it pings.

“What a nice ping. What is this?”

“A plane of existence, or a screen for an old game.”

“Has the game ended?”

“For you, yes. For Me?, it has been done even before Enoch started it.”

“I knew it was Enoch. Ha-haaa. Yvonne said it was Elijah, the Punisher. But no!, said I, it must be Enoch, the Architect. I knew it! I knew it!!”

“You know because you know where to address your questions. You asking, I answer. Like I did then, like I do now. Enoch starts the games so Elijah can finish them.”

“Are You taking part in every game?”

“No. Taking part in one game was both necessary and sufficient.”

“Why the adventure of Astarte? Was this the game of Your choice?”

“Astarte was the kind of creature that made her own choice, a bad one, and believed in it with all her being. Every creature is unique in her own way, but Astarte, well, what a badass!”

“Hearing this from You, I wonder. She was quite a nincompoop when I first met her.”

“Around here, you can sense Eternity, right?,” she nods, “there are only wise people. Wisdom takes care of that.”

“A-ha, so You made the cubes, to contain lower heavens, insulated from Wisdom?,” He nods, “and… and then, Enoch made Astarte. Hum, why didn’t You?”

“I can’t make stupid stuff. Everything that I speak out is perfect. What I touch turns to Gold. Where I step blossoms to Joy.”

“That’s why you made Enoch, an Architect with a naughty mind?”

“Naughty? Nah. That’s already Astarte stuff. Enoch is just the curious guy. The tinkerer. He can make the mistakes that I cannot.”

“And what’s the first mistake of Astarte?”

“Impatient, she panicked.”


“Panic projected a shadow through her womb. She birthed an emulsion, like a smoke. A trail of nothingness.”

“Wow! She invented non-existence.”

“Like unmaking the creation. Told you she was a unique creature.”

“I assume that this had to be Lucifer, the light bringer.”

“To her panic attack, a rescuer. To Us, a trail of twisted zeroes. Astarte made the zero and called it god. Her god, the shiny. Go figure.”

“And that’s a badass, You say.”

“I see. You, little girl, were quite a badass when asking your father to send you to a monastery because you wished to marry Me. I get that, compared to all the girls in the given social frame. But breathe and think: you were asking for Me from the very beginning. Knowingly siding with The Ever-Living. Upfront!”

“Was I a badass? To my fellow humans, maybe. But when looking at it down, from here, well, I made the safest choice. Humm, I can see what You mean.”

“Astarte put her faith in a pussy fart of hers. A smoke without form. A shadow to existence. A zero, actually ‘the zero’ because no other cube, no other universe in My atelier, can fathom what ‘zero’ is. Because it isn’t.”

“She made her own god. Out of nothing.”

“And so it began. The first idol was born.”

“But, Lord, it is written that Lucifer used to be an angel of light and…”

“Yes, it is written. How many illusions have been written. Did you know that I ditched fifty-three levels of this game?”

“No. I only knew that You wished to…”

“That has been written, and remained for you to read. Many things have been spoken, pronounced, executed, yet never written. Astarte wished to see her fabrication as her lord. Let her follow this wish, said I. And Lucifer received his wings.”

“Real wings?”

“Only birds have wings. For the readers, in the likeness of a ship’s wake, still unlike the fish swimming in the ocean, Lucifer left a trail behind him.”

“Like wings?”

“For Astarte, like wings. But she knew those were no wings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Fish live in water. Breathe water. Swim in water. Everything is water to fish. Right?”


“We live in wisdom. Breathe wisdom. Walk in wisdom. Everything is wisdom to Us. Right?”

“Right. Let me see… The aether! It fills that cube–”

“Not that one.”

“Then that other one?”

“A hundred and two rows behind, column eight. That one! But, never mind. A cube–”

“The aether fills A cube like water fills an ocean. Correct?”


“But Lucifer was no fish, no creature of the water, or the Light for that matter. Correct?”


“An alien. Like a scuba diver breathing air from his own tubes. Leaving bubbles behind.”

“And a trail.”

“They called the darkness light and the night became their day.”

“Lucifer was the darkness, from his inception.”

“But his mommy wished to give him everything, to make him…”

“Stop! Have you been a mommy?”


“Then stop here. This is the candour of a mother.”

“Yasu, have You ever experienced this candour. I mean, before Astarte, before Enoch, before this, that, cube. Before this game. Have You?”


“That alone should make Astarte The Badass. I think.”

“You think right.”

“Moms stick to their guns.”

“They do. Not that that’s always the smartest move. But, well, who can deal with a mom?”

“Really? You Are The Ever-Living! You tell me ‘who’ can deal with a mom? Come on, Lord!”

“See? That’s the difference between distress and dominion, between fear and faith. I didn’t run to fix an error, here and there, just because Enoch made a mistake. I made Enoch to make mistakes. Why ruin his work then?”

“Free will. Tell me, Lord. I am here, as your bride, because I wish, because I always wished to be with You as a loving bride.”

“Why should I crush your wish? It is legit. You love Me. I love you. You give your life to Me. I gave Mine for you. I am your Light and you are my beloved bride. Like fish live, breathe and swim in water.”

“This all by my own choice?”


“Why did Astarte choose so poorly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yasu, again!, You are The Ever-Living!, how do you say to me ‘I don’t know?’ It makes no sense to me.”

“Can I know everything? Of course, I am God. Do I wish to know everything? What a boring wish. What’s the thrill of a game if you know all the moves, in advance.”

“Like I’ve got my free will, like Astarte got hers, so do You. It’s Your choice. Right?”


“I fear, wait, can I fear here?”

“Only as a figure of speech.”

“I fear that Lucifer really wished to know it all. Beforehand.”

“And what did he do with this wish of his?”

“Had you granted it to him?”

“Of course, why not? He asked politely.”

“I have no idea.”

“Taking what he had, he turned it inside out.”

“Don’t get it.”

“Take your finger and draw a circle on this screen. Here, in front of us.”

Complying, Beatrice makes a circle. No ping.

“When you touched the screen, it pinged.”

“It did, yes.”

“When I touch it, why there’s no ping?”

“Only I can ping at existence. A feature of being The Ever-Living.”

“But I can do it through You, can I?”

“Only if you wish.”

“I do!”

“Take care what you wish, Beatrice.”

#Beatrice Immersing Herself

“Lord, Yasu Khrist, where are You?”

“Close your eyes. Breathe. Can you see Me?”

“Closing my eyes, breathing, yes. I can see You.”

“Good. Are you okay?”

“Don’t know. What have I done? Where am I? Give me Your hand, Lord, please!”

And swoosh, Beatrice gets rescued, once again, out of the screen. Back to Eternity.

“How do you feel?”

“Alive! You just, You just, sent me inside this screen?”

“No, I did not send you anywhere. You did.”

“Ah, my wish.”

“Be thoughtful of what you wish for, because you’ll have it.”

“Okay, so let me sum it up: in a moment of panic, Astarte birthed a zero, the eponym for the serpent, a pretender leaving a trail behind, unlike any fish.”

“So far so good.”

“Or not so good. About the other crazy stuff of her life, the readers may do well reading Astarte, The Adventure.”

“I recommend that read too.”

“Beyond Astarte’s divorce and Kronos’ abysmal division by zero, aside of what has been written about daemonic history and fallen angels, what is it that You wish to share with me, and the readers, about the serpent seed. Because, Lord, I still don’t get how all this works.”

“I can tell you, but do you wish I show you?”

“I–I… wait! If I wish this, will I get sucked inside the screen, again?”

“You wished to ping. That got you sucked in. A ping is more than a touch. Goes beyond sensitive.”

“What’s a ping then?”

“A thought come true? A word originating a reality? Presence acting upon existence.”

“Too technical for me. Still don’t get it. So I don’t wish to ping. Lord!, can we extend this through Eternity? Like a safety measure.”

“You don’t wish to ping. Done. Now tell Me what you wish.”

“I wish to know. To learn. To hear. To see.”

“Here! Look at the twelve Adams I built.”

“Before Enoch and Elijah?”

“No words of your readers’ English, or any other language known to readers, can describe that before. You’ll have to bear with Me within the after.”


“After Astarte has divorced, after Kronos knocks his fractals down to curvatures and useless approximations, after all the wars pushing distance upon distance, breaking blood ties and memories to oblivion. A relative one.”

“Still in neverland. Please, Lord, just tell me about the twelve Adams.”

“Odin, My first Adam. I built Odin and placed him in Asgaard. For Freyja, a gift by Enoch.”

“That sounds beyond cool.”

“Adam, My second Adam. I built Adam here,” Yasu points with His right arm to the blue trees ahead.

“Wait, wait, wait. You mean, HERE?, in this very place?”

“A couple feet ahead, amongst those trees. Yes.”


“I’d say so. Amazing, yes. And brought the curvature out of him.”

“How’s that? I don’t understand.”

“Hawa, or Eve, like a curve, used to be a part of Adam. Allowing him to sleep, I brought her out of him, to be his woman, to let her wish whatever she wants.”

“You gave her the free will?”

“Elijah said that I gave her TO free will.”

“A-ha. That was harsh.”

“The saying or the giving?”


“Altair, my third Adam. I built him right at the core of Aquila.”

“What is Aquila?”

“A star, a bright star.”

“An eagle then, your third Adam?”

“Eagles are birds, remember?” Few fly over their heads. “Look up! They fly their wings. An Adam is a precise copy of My body.”

“An Adam is an avatar of God, if You allow me.”


“And who’s the woman for Altair?”

“Many women. He can build them by himself. I lost count–”

“A figure of speech?”

“Ah, yes. I wished to lose count of them. It’s his business after all.”


“Interesting? You dare not speak your thoughts?”

“Yasu, a copy of Yourself, well, of Your body, that You’ve built inside a star and that can build his own harem, well, I feel a bit overwhelmed at expressing my feminine thoughts. No?”

“Be bold, Beatrice. You are here with Me because you have dared. Dare on!”

“What is the purpose of Altair then?”

“He’s the wild card. A useful key when you wish to decipher the code for the serpent seed.”

“Now, we’re talking again. Your next Adam is?”


“Can’t hear You.”

“I know. But I wished to answer you nevertheless. So I’ve given you the answer to your question. Just that your mind, or your readers’ minds, cannot process it, cannot even hear it, or read it for that matter.”

“Which means?”

“Which means that this is the ceiling, for our current dialogue. We may converse about Odin, Adam and Altair. You still have to wrap up a level or two before ‘seeing’ the next Adams.”

“Anything generic about them?”

“One third of the twelve has fallen.”

“That makes four.”

“Four Adams, yes.”

“And yet we may only converse about three out of these four.”

“We may converse about all twelve. Problem is that you are not mastering an appropriate language to even hear what I say.”

“Music then?”

“Clever girl. I knew that you would steal this from Me. Indeed, music keeps all heavens together.”

“Down to the narrative then?”

“Down to the narrative.”

#Beatrice Learning the Comms

“What is a serpent?”

“A string.”

“Of code?”

“No Word in it to make the code. Yet a made-up code, out of zeroes.”

“How to make a difference?”

“Twisted zeroes. Looking like eights, or infinites, in-definites, non-defined. Or Moebius bands. Shifty sands.”

“What about Lucifer?”

“When his mom divorced him (read about the Venusian Insurrection), all the beautiful features she attributed to her illusion went away. Abdicating her mother’s love, suffering his vengeful wrath, or so he was allowed to think, the serpent returned to its initial state: smoke in the water.”

“Don’t understand. Then how did you allow it to appear in the Garden of Eden?”

“Not so fast, Beatrice. Before Eden, by the way, do you like my atelier?,” smiling, circling Him like a colibri, she kneels and kisses His hand, “I allowed it down to Asgaard.”



“You don’t say!”

“I do say!!”

“In what form?”

“Human form.”


“Kept demanding it. Since our first dialogue, it never paused asking.”

“Your first dialogue?”

“It’s written in Astarte, The Adventure.”

“Would you mind?”

“Makes not a bit of pleasure. But very well. In short: divorcing her son, Astarte raises her voice to Me, begging for My intervention; I ask it ‘who are you?’ and it replies ‘why You and not me?’ That was the moment of revelation for the cosmos contained in that cube. All those giants deceived about their own god, finding out from its own mouth that he isn’t. Knowingly.”

“Hell on Earth.”

“No Earth then. But hell on Venus and many other places.”

“You could annihilate it right away.”

“Why bother when it was destroying itself of such an eloquent manner. I couldn’t do a better job at that.”

“So it asked for a human body.”

“It asked to be an Adam. Request denied. Asked again. Denied. And so on.”

“For eons?”

“All those silent eons in the cosmos, the serpent shouting at Me, eon in, eon out.”

“What was your next move?”

“Building Odin, giving him Freyja, I challenged him.”

“Like a test or something?”

“Yes. More like an experiment. I’d give Odin a problem and, based on him solving it, I’ll expand his dominion.”

“Dominion? How’s that? Already?”

“Any Adam is a dominion-machine.”

“Ah, I see, an avatar of God, what else could it be.”

“Odin accepted My challenge. A seductive stranger clings to Freyja.”

“She falls for it.”

“In a more subtle way than I anticipated. Reading Freyja’s logs, finding Enoch’s build fingerprints, I suspect that Freyja acted like another Astarte.”

“A surrogate?”

“Yes. The hunter falling in a similar trap. It fell for her.”

“She allowed him to–”

“She did. Reading her logs, Odin emerged to severe the union.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Odin cuts the stranger’s penis. Swift and surgically, though with a light sword, without burning a single red hair on Freyja’s body.”

“So the dick rests in Freyja?”

“Until the puzzled intruder, mad as hell, grabs the thing and implants it into Odin’s right orbit.”

“So this is how Odin lost his eye. Myths said that he sacrificed his right eye in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Myths can say many things. But this one is correct: the bloody flesh of the stranger gave unforseen insights to Odin.”

“Such as?”

“The complete frames of the game, beginning with Enoch’s build of Astarte, with Elijah naming her and Me validating her. The whole game, up to date. Plus a few logical moves for the next levels. Pretty much everything an avatar would need to know in order to hack the game.”

“Wait a minute. But You are the Creator of everything. What had you seeded in Odin when building him?”

“The same programs that I built into the second Adam, and into the third as well. All Adams are built equal.”

“How did Odin get rid of the stranger, er, the serpent. I guess it’s one and the same.”

“It’s the same yet not one, because… because…”

“A zero cannot be one. I see.”

“Knowing, Odin called it a zero. Declaring no null across the Asgaard, Odin established a non-supported presence for that particular type of alien.”

“It just vanished.”

“Vanished, yes.”

“And You did not move a finger.”

“Watching, I allowed Odin to play in My Name, at his own discretion. Until my Personal entry in the game.”

“Let me see if I got it right: before Your birth by Mariam the virgin, was Odin playing in Your Name, even upon planet Earth?”

“Especially on Earth, yes.”

“But Freyja got pregnant.”

“She did. Loki was the offspring.”

“An Enochite from his mother’s side and… and…”


“A serpent seed by his father’s side.”

“Now you know.”

“Loki is the first serpent seed entering the game.”


#Beatrice Closing the Loop

“Second Adam, second try.”

“I built Adam here for a reason.”

“Which was?”

“What the serpent wants is getting Up here, replacing Me. This make-a-god complex was haunting its mother’s mind when she pussy farted it. But I won’t taint my studio with no-thing.”

“Thought so. Thus you planted an image of Eden down on earth, as in the Garden of Eden.”

“Yes. Along with the perfection of My image: Adam and his Eve. And along with dozens of trees and various humans. Living humans.”

“In the middle of this You set up a dead tree, like a never-existing human-shadow.”

“The serpent of old. A tree he was. Dead as the virus can’t be alive.”

“Yet posing.”

“And deceiving. Doing what it does best.”

“Did Eve?”

“Yes. She did allow the serpent to penetrate her.”

“Yasu, You don’t seem as angry as it is written about this event.”

“At this point, where the virus taints Eve’s womb with its seed, there’s a repetition.”

“It did it, similarly, with Freyja. But?”

“But Adam stayed placid. Regarding, he allowed to be lured in. Unlike Odin who responded with sharp violence.”

“I don’t know about this. Tell me.”

“Anyone’s metaphor is another one’s record. As the fountain of Mimir was a metaphor to Odin’s losing his right eye, so the apple bite is a myth to Adam acquiring internal death.”

“Still don’t get it. Metaphors can mean so many things.”

“Look!” Yasu Pantokrator pings at the screen. Surveillance cameras can’t record metaphors. Curious Adam assists at the scene where Eve has intercourse with the same serpent of old, with its appealing human-looking shape. Curious Adam is invited to partake. Hesitating Adam goes only for the fruit, a knowledge of the illusion, like a drug. Then he gets turned around and abused. Perforated from behind, penetrated through his guts, infested with alien minuscule bodies. Adam bleeds. Follows Eve. The same ordeal.

Beatrice is speechless. She tries to cry. Trying harder, she understands: one cannot cry back here, Up in Eden.

“This! This, my beloved bride, turned Me angry. This turned Me to become a Storm.”

“The Storm.”

“Odin volunteered immediately.”

“He saw this?”

“Live. He’s got access.”

“I had an anus, as a mortal. But it vanished after I died and You repaired me right there. In Your arms I live. Besides, I noticed that Astarte never had an anus. She told us that no daemon of her kind, no titan, no giant had an anus. How interesting is that?”

“More trivial than interesting. I (and Enoch) built perfectly functional avatars. Immortal bodies have no anus. There was no decay in Adam’s guts. The testimony of Astarte is correct: digestion turns food into nutrients and all water-soluble waste, which goes out through the bladder. We don’t build lesser bodies Up here.”

“The virus has mutilated Adam and Eve.”

“It did, thus seeding death inside them. Because only by planting its seed into Eve’s womb, death by decay would not have had a grip on their bodies.”

“The curse then?”

“I cursed it. Divorced by its mother, locked by the Archangel, cursed by God, the virus had been finished at these three levels of contact.”

“The curse on Adam and Eve?”

“I did not curse my avatars, mind you.”

“But it is written…”

“…and stupidly interpreted. They cursed themselves by falling victims to such an unprecedented abuse. Mutilation was their curse, right in the middle of their flesh. From that moment on, up to the Cross, I wept for them, for all of you, sons and daughters of Adam.”

“The Cross, You dying on the Cross, this has closed the loop.”

“All my brides are cute and clever. You included. Yes.”

#Beatrice Wondering about a Parenthesis

“You know, Yasu, when wasting time with daydreaming, I loved to play with logic strings.”

“I know. You were asking, I was answering. And whispering some.”

“May I?”

“Yes. You may.”

{Eve + Snake ==> Ish[male] == Kain}

{Adam + Eve ==> Ben[son] == Abel}

“Abel brings You tribute that You accept. Kain brings You his tribute that You reject.”

“Having nothing in common with the serpent seed, I sent the message. Loud and clear.”

“From here derive two paths: a short one and a longer one.”

“The short one?”

“Understanding, Kain kills himself. End of [hi]story.”

“The longer one?”

“Out of enmity–”

“–That I put between the two–”

“So, out of this enmity, Kain kills Abel. Thus human history begins.”

“Now, that the readers are ripe to read. Tell me, Beatrice, what have I done to human history?”

“You cut it in two.”

“Chronologically, I did. Tell me about the old times. Before My birth.”

“You want me to say this?”

“I love hearing your voice.”

“Between Kain and the Cross, the struggle has been about two parallel bloodlines: the seed of Seth, by Adam, versus the seed of Kain, by the serpent. You’ve marked the end of this competition, birthing from the seed of Seth.”

“On the Cross.”

“On the Cross.”

“The old died with You.”

“Everything becoming new by My Resurrection.”

“Let me take Us to more recent memories.”

“Go on, Beatrice.”

“During the last two centuries that I’ve spent on Earth, before joining You here, there was quite a chatter about the bloodlines. Thirteen or something like that.”

“Stupid sycophants. They didn’t accept. They never wish to step back, stubborn stock.”

“You mean?”

“Those few sons of Kain, feeling, they refused to learn.”

“Learn what?”

“That the serpent seed has ended.”

“Ended? Even if they were alive, the sons of Kain?”

“Yes. And because it ended, those bastards finally became alive.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s the simplest thing. Well, one of the simplest.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Did the seed of Seth ended with Me?”

“Mmm, yes. I think it lost traction. Because all over the Old Contract, the reader is told how important it was to keep these genes unaltered, for the virgin (Mariam) about to become the GodGate, her genetics had to be intact. Not an easy feat, throughout millennia of slavery and trials and traps set by the serpent seed and clueless minions.”

“This being the silver line of the Old Covenant, what was the New one all about?”

“About You!”

“Correct. Allow Me, please. Look around. See my studio? Beautiful. Why would I consider to procreate down on earth, in a cesspool full of snakes, in a swamp. Why would a right-thinking reader believe the utter lies about Me having children.”

“But You do. Every person who believes in You is a child of God.”

“You know what I am talking about here, Beatrice. About those liars sucking any true sense out of words. Entering the game as a baby, I played the role of the servant. Dying to pay your bills, I descended to fix the dead out of their paradoxes. Bringing Life back to my physical body, I ascended to prepare the new quarters, for each of you. Why should a reader believe the lie that I wished to continue the bloodlines travesty?”

“Dunno. Entertainment maybe.”

“Let me give you some entertainment now: Judas Iscariot, son of Kain, social justice worker, known leaker, typical traitor. Embodiment of the serpent seed. When I die, he hangs. Taking his days, by suicide, he finally executed the Kain final command: self-distruct.”

“WOWWW!! WOOOAWWWWW!! TRIPLE WOW!!! Short path or longer path, same closure. May I?”

“Yes, you may.”

{Lucid traitor <Judas Iscariot> :: suicide ==> [kain]}

“I like your strings and the parenthesis: kain small caps in kill brackets. Judas Iscariot killed [kain] by killing himself.”

“Spiritually killing the serpent seed.”

“You’re a fast learner. Both seeds had to go at once. Mine/Seth’s Up, the serpent’s down.”

“What about all those bloodlines.”

“Pompous asses. Fucking with Draco reptilians, falling for their warmongering nature.”

“Uhm, Yasu, isn’t fucking a cuss word?”

“It was, down on earth. Do you wish I speak in euphemisms to describe some of the most abject deeds of those fools?”

#Beatrice Learning the Good News

“Is this good? Is this bad?”

“Tell Me, Beatrice, did I bring bad news?”

“Allow me, Lord, this rhetoric. You brought the Evangelion, aka the Good News.”

“ANYone believing in Me is renewed, regardless of his, or hers, ancestry.”

“Which implies that the serpent seed is redeemable, I assume.”

“Don’t assume. Understand that the serpent seed is no more. Kaput. Loop closed.”

“How about the leftovers? Judas Iscariot wasn’t the only one, and they kept breeding.”

“Breeding what?”


“On what purpose?”

“In the hope of their false messiah.”

“That you had already sensed within Rebecca’s womb.”

“Is Rebecca redeemable?”

“Oh My, stupid little Beatrice, Rebecca is family to Me. I was a biker because her father Richard used to be an avid Zündapp fan. I hold her in My arms when she was ten.”

“How comes?”

“How comes what?”

“That now she is carrying the serpent.”

“She is what she is. She keeps doing what she does best. An agent provocateur, this is what Rebecca is. She asked permission from Me, before boldly assuming this crazy mission.”

“What have You told her then?”

“Sublime and grotesque. Women like her make things happen. She is a catalyst. A gamer almost as perfect as Enoch.”

“Is it my impression or did Rebecca put a charm on You?”

“Like the Magdalene, like many others, she did.”

“No little thing to put your charms on God.”


“Just a bit.”

“You, Beatrice, you owned Me.”

“Oh Lord, forgive me for that. Never wished to impose on You.”

“But you did. Candidly and graciously. This is your type of love. This is who you are. This is what you do.”

“But Rebecca?”

“She flirts. Even with Me. Candidly and graciously.”

“Same flux, different parameters.”

“Same flux, different parameters.”

“So, Yasu, let me see if I got it right: ANYone, earthling or not, Enochite or not, Atlasian or not, Adamite or not, Kronian or not, Draconian or not, Whatever or not, ANYone believing in You has the Good News.”

“Yes, and the Good News is?”

“That the serpent seed is dead. The rest is an illusion.”

“And a flirt.”

“I’d be damned.”

“Not you, only those refusing to believe in Me, only those running away from the Light, only those scared down by the Life.”

“How simple.”

“Sublime and grotesque.”

“That stays.”

“For a little while.”


// update 2019 November 9th.

#Beatrice Going Back to Loki

“The ancestry reset, did it work wonders?”

“There is no Prophet who is despised except in his city and among his kindred and in his house.”

“I can hear Rebecca, again and again, telling us this or that little story about her father, Richard.”

“His own people had him killed. Just like this. Did you notice revenge on her face?, in her voice?”

“Not even in her thoughts, which are the most dangerous. No! Saying that she cannot forgive them, she stepped aside, allowing this privilege to God.”

“Flirting with Me, all the time.”

“You mean?”

“Richard was executing My will. Killing him, they sent yet another message to Me.”

“So Rebecca was just sparing her pathetic revenge…”

“…For Mine. It was never about mercy and she knew it, all the way.”

“Freezing my blood.”

“You’ve learned this from Astarte?”

“A figure of speech. Yes, poor thing. But Rebecca scares me, now even more.”

“Look beyond the messenger. She is just an agent. How many of her people have come to Me?”

“Many. Most of them. The sheer majority.”

“My people, yes. I was asking about her people.”

“Uhm, dunno.”

“Correct answer. Little is that what you know. And let Me tell you that more and more of her people, leaving traditions behind, disrobing pride and prejudice, discover Me and, answering, they step in, like Richard did.”

“You willing to tell me about the ancestry of Richard and why Rolf played such an important, yet absent, part in Rebecca’s life. But I know that it’s complicated.”

“Quite complicated, yes.”

“Loki looks simpler to me.”

“Legends look simple. Real people, however, are complicated.”

“But You are REAL and You are simple.”

“Because I-AM. People want to be, or don’t. They’re still facing a set of options, or just one, or none at all. This makes them complicated, even to Me.”

“Did Loki know that he is serpent seed?”

“When a child, no, he didn’t.”

“How did he?”

“Nurturing him, watching him mature, Odin asked Me. Knowing the deed of Kain, he was looking for ways to avoid a similar situation.”

“Wait, wait, oh God!”


“Tell me, Odin and Freyja meeting the serpent, then Adam and Eve with the same serpent of old, weren’t there a bunch, or two, of eons in between those two events?”

“Mere seconds. Not even two.”

“This is all happening in real time.”

“Back in an early 21st century, the readers would call it names, such as parallel universes, concurrent realities, maybe solipsistic realities. Yes, people are complicated and they love it.”

“I remember one debate, out of a lot, because this was indeed memorable to me. I was counsel for Astarte, sustaining her claim for twins Easter and Saturn. Rebecca had us all rewind a dialogue between Albert Einstein and her father, Richard Rabinovics.”

“Working Truth.”

“Irrefutable. Swallowing her emotions, appeasing her instincts, Astarte fell appalled when realizing all the nonsense fed to the human collective.”

“The more complex you think, the farther from the truth you go.”

“Kronos implied that he was influencing Albert, through Richard’s questions.”

“True, every daemon down there knows this elementary fact: that My subjective truth is what makes the objective Reality, the real time creation. I am Truth. As simple as that.”

“Mere seconds?, You said. Different cubes then?”

“Ha, ha. Tried to hide this from you. Wishing to allow your own mind the discovery. Yes, Beatrice. Different cubes. Each of the twelve Adams I made inside a cube of his own. Twelve cubes in this sea of stone to Our left.”

“And how did the serpent jump cubes?”

“He didn’t. Odin and Altair and […] jumped in Adam’s abyss.”


“That’s why We call it an abyss.”

“Would this make them immune to Kronos’ karma?”

“No. Once inside that cube, anyone’s action inflicts a counter-action. But they are immune to decay.”

“I can see that. So obvious yet so well camouflaged under taboos.”

“For better or for worse.”

“Back to Loki. Lord, tell me, please, what did Odin ask you then?”

“How to love a serpent seed. How can he love something that even I can’t love.”

“Odin has asked the impossible from You. What did You say to him?”

“Irony. I told him that, if he succeeds, Odin will invent irony.”

“Don’t get it.”

“Up to that moment, Loki had been raised along with his half-brother Thor. In honour and chivalry and Grace. From that moment on, finding out that he is serpent seed, Loki had to learn how to laugh at himself, how to make a fool of himself, how to trick Life without daring Me.”

“Divine homeopathy. Wow!”

“Anything is possible with Me.”

“But You have touched Richard, You have hold Rebecca in Your arms…”

“…and so many more of them. I’ve touched many.”

“Did you touch Loki?”

“No. Can’t do that. A-ha! You caught Me, little thing. Well, yes, this is impossible to Me: touching the serpent seed.”

“Then how comes with the many?”

“Complicated again. They are not pure serpent seed. Well, not even Loki is. Not even Kain.”

“Indeed, half Enochite, by Freyja, and the other, half Adamite, by Eve.”

“If you’ve got a mother, then you’ve gotta be at least half-her side of the pool.”

“By decay and death, generation after generation, many come as new fruits hanging from a fluffy ancestry tree.”

“The fractals painted by Kronos.”

“To make it simple: Loki, or Kain, came as fruit from two threads, right?”

“Not even a thread there. An Enochite by Freyja, Loki learns that he must be a primordial creature. No grandmother from his maternal side, just Astarte from the opposite, no lineage at all. Enoch created his mother, and his only grandmother, like a gamer would shape avatars.”

“Daemons know better than humans.”

“Who they are? They know it perfectly. It is what defines them. They can’t escape it.”

“Not even in irony and jest?”

“Not even. That’s more of a remedy, of a drug, like a painkiller.”

“Then? I don’t understand.”

“Odin’s love. Thor’s acceptance. And eventually every soul that Loki makes laugh. If you’re amused by him, then you give him a vote. He lives by you. And many alike.”

“Oh My, that sounds like the opposite of loosh.”

“More than that. Laugh and rejoice so that Loki, and creatures like him, can breathe another day. Besides, your joy makes Me happy too, rewarding you from My Own. Thus you are replenished, and others, even outsiders, are as well.”

// update 2019, November 11th

#Beatrice Frosting Spells

“You said: ‘and creatures like him.’ This implies that there should be a kin. Is he?…”

“A kin there is. Families are like trees. They make the fabric of many realities.”


“Kronos can only paint, but persons, sons and daughters of gods, they intertwine in little known ways, thus making fractals happen. Inspiring Kronos and creatures alike.”

“So this is not about space and time?”

“It never was. Space has no properties and time is an illusion.”

“Spells of Kronos?”

“Not exactly, or not directly. Knowing that persons are like bricks to build walls and gardens for this or that reality, Kronos immersed himself in this beautiful fractal art. He loved to play with light, to make Our inhabitants happy. Some were singing, some were dancing, others asking, all listening. And Kronos was building. With a passion.”


“Devising ways of communication with Me, understanding the inner works of kins, how they mature into wonderful nets, Kronos asked for a family, of his own.”

“Astarte! She told me that she had been made, initially, for him. To be his bride.”

“Validating her, I asked Enoch about her groom. Hesitating, he informed Me, and Us, that he won’t make a male build.”

“Wait a minute, Lord, who made all the kins before?”

“Guess Who!”

“Ah, silly me. Enoch should be the first creature to build another creature, out of his kin. Like, say, not fathering it.”

“Wanting to be an architect, NOK -the blue blooded version of Enoch- asked Me. Begin with the woman!, answered I.”

“Astarte was Enoch’s prototype. Why not a man? You always build the man first.”

“Wanted him to get creative. Plus, he desired this too. ‘Let me twist some stuff,’ he said and I agreed.”

“Why did he oscillate before building the man for Astarte?”

“No one, before this moment in Eternity, had ever built a person. Not a woman, nor a man. Enoch/NOK is the first created person to build another person. Picking the woman, fearing the man, he stopped. Allowing Me.”

“Then You pinged Kronos into existence.”

“Smart gal, into existence, not within Eternity, because I linked him to that particular cube. Like a collateral. Along with his woman, Astarte.”

“You knew. Beforehand. That they will die. That they were doomed. Even before NOK/Enoch having the idea, making the proposition.”

“Isn’t it hard when having to know everything? And so boring. This is why I gave them the free will.”

“Isn’t this free will a consequence of the serpent?”

“Nope. Like having sex is what moves the fractals through Eternity, experiencing free will is also part of Eternity, and there’s no serpent, not even a notion of it, around here.”

“Experiencing the free will is about trying something new, daring the unexpected, quitting the comfort of knowing it beforehand.”

“You copying from My mind, little thing?”

“For lack of words, yes, I do that. Doing it ever since I’ve been a little girl. Remember?”

“Crons roaming above your mom’s little house in the mountains. You, at the window, staring at those naggers, breathing a prayer: ‘Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, have mercy on my little soul, now and for ever and ever; Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, have mercy on my little soul, now and for ever and ever; Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, have mercy on my little soul, now and for ever and ever…’ Yes, I remember.”

“You entered my heart. Wait! Not before clearing the clouds and stepping on the stones in front of me.”

“Have you ever spoken these words, telling this story, before this moment?”

“You know too well that I haven’t. Wanted to keep it as our secret. It’s nice to take romantic cover with my first kiss, at the moment of my death. Don’t You think?”

“Everyone feels My hand when passing. But a frugal kiss, lips to lips, you’ve gotta have a history for that. See what you’ve been doing to others, Beatrice?”

“What? Hiding our first encounter?”

“This as well, for a fact. Plus your vein of coquetry, quite distinct from Rebecca’s but still, for a flirt.”


“And this is what makes you -all of you- women. This is the je-ne-sais-quois planted in Astarte, in Freyja, in numerous builds by Enoch, even in Eve, by Me. You will charm, a way or another, for better or for worse. A trickery.”

“How about the prior builds? Before Enoch.”

“Not a trace, not even a notion. All women built or birthed before Astarte are devout, caring, loving, loyal.”

“But I am devout and caring and loving and loyal to You. I’ve always been. I know it.”

“True. Are you though to your friends?, were you to your mother?, to your father?”

“Uhmm, partially, yes.”

“In whole?”

“Mmmm, no. Not in whole. I am Yours in whole.”

“Indeed you are. Still others, including your parents, your kin, are within Me too. Yet you were flirting with them, concealing a fact, even a divine blessing. It is still a secret to others.”

“But they can find it out by asking You, right?”

“And here comes the defense. I am not attacking you, I am not accusing you.”

“What are You doing then?”

“A demonstration: the abyss inside that cube, the trace of the serpent, even after closing the serpent seed, the notion of darkness, the immanence of a never-existing shadow, like the illusions induced by time, all of these gave place to spells, to material constructs of nought, to daemonic activity -so I make My demo short.”

“For what purpose?, Your demonstration.”

“Let me share with you, and the readers, another little secret.”

“All ears.”

“In the Garden of Gethsemane, before Judas sold Me with a kiss, while talking to My Father, a trader interceded, offering Me some of his charms, of his frosting spells.”

“Oh My– Oh My– don’t You tell me that that, that -that tricker, trader, whatever, …twas Loki, wasn’t it?”

“He knows a thing or two about frosting. Yes. Wishing to spare Me the pains. To give a hand.”

“Incredible, how the serpent seed works on us, on You even, from all corners, slithering around in the grass, deceiving, leading into temptation…”

“It works by definition, no? Makes sense to Me, should make sense to you too, no?”

“Makes sense, Lord, but it’s— it’s so, so despicable.”

“Don’t hurry to drink all the cup of emotions. Don’t get drunk on your feelings, or you’re going to fall upwards, which is worse. The worst.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look to judge Loki before I can finish My story. Don’t you wish to find out what he did, what he said to Me?”

“Sure, sorry.”

“Okay then. Measuring him, I asked: on whose behalf are you here?; on what purpose?; what is your benefit? And he answered: ‘on my own; just curious; none.’ Then I turned to his methods: who gave you permission to have this young man’s body?; will you give him back to his family?; do you wish to stay or to go? And he answered to Me: Your voice had this dead body awakened in the cemetery downhill, so I seized the moment; yes, will lead him to his own; I don’t know: shall I stay?, shall I go? tell me, Lord.'”

“I’m speechless, yet I speak: what did You tell him to do?, stay or go?”

“Oh, little one, I’m no answering machine. Studying his glowing eyes, wondering at the crafted words of the other adversary, in the desert, three years before, I asked: what would you do if you were in My place?; would you accept a frosting spell in your favor?; would you call an overwhelming power to your help? Tell Me! And he answered: ‘can never be in Your place; no favor; no help – an impossibility You tempt me with and two showstoppers; please, God, have mercy on me.’ I told him to follow Me until losing the linen cloth. Which he did.”

“The demo, I know the demo! I can tell You, can I?”


“Down in the abyss of that cube, there is an ongoing trade of temptation, like a curse, and any material body of a person, even Yours, may tempt another, even out of goodwill, maybe for research, or just for fun. Tell me, tell me!”

“Tell you what?”

“Is this the conclusion to Your demonstration?”

“Should I answer with a yes?; should I just mumble a maybe?; shall I tell you that I love you?”

“It works even up here, in Eternity. A kiss?”

// update 2019 November 12th


#Beatrice Marveling on Sex

“Lord, I am a virgin, as I’ve always been. And yet–”

“And yet, with all your mind-reading talents, have you discovered another woman, a non-virgin woman, to experience better orgasms than you did?”

“This my question. Not by far, I answer. How comes?”

“Sex is not restricted to genitals, nor defined by cultural teachings.”

“What is sex then? Beyond genitals and cultural teachings?”

“Sex conveys, converts and conserves love, for persons trying to call those who are not as though they are. Look at fractals that grow out and around that Golden City floating to the right! Sex is love making new things happen, out and around.”

“Why do You mention, twice, out and around?”

“Because the City of Gold is separate from the Garden. There in, there is no sex. Only out and around, within the Garden. Not in the City.”


“Free will? There are persons who don’t have sex, who don’t even want to hear about it.”

“In the City?”

“In the City.”

“While in the Garden?”

“Eden, or Pleasure, to use the direct translation for your English language readers, is hosting so many things. Sex is one of them.”

“And one lands here, in Your Garden of Pleasure, by choice?”

“By choice.”

“Back to my initial question then: why am I, a life-long virgin, here and not there, in the City?, where non-sexual people go, by choice.”

“You’ve always been a sexual woman. Virginity stands opposite to harlotry. There are sex-loving virgins and sex-hating harlots. There are sex-hating virgins and sex-loving harlots.”

“Love it or hate it.”

“Love it or hate it.”

“No middle ground?”

“Yes, in the City.”

“Am I a sex-loving virgin?”


“Prove it to me!”

“Remember the crons clouding the skies above your mom’s little home?”

“How much I tried to forget. Still this memory pops up again, like a trauma that I can’t address, out of nowhere. Even here.”

“By design, those crons don’t come at random, don’t appear out of nowhere.”

“You mean?”

“There’s a sexual energy calling them down from the skies. The woman has to stir them, out of their random trajectories. The woman emanates the sexual energy.”

“The longing? A desire to share and be shared?”

“It was Eve that stirred the trees when strolling around.”

“Even the twisted tree?, the serpent of old?”

“Especially that one. I made Eve as a booby trap, particularly for the serpent.”

“That’s why You had to take her body out of Adam. Wait! Did Enoch…”

“Enoch had Astarte built up from a core magnet of longing and desire.”

“So it’s intrinsic then.”

“To every woman built or birthed since Astarte.”

“Even to those following their fractal trees out and around here, in this Eden?”

“Out of solidarity, willing to help their fallen sisters, they jumped in. So yes, they vibrate in similar ways. Yet not intrinsically, because they have the choice to care or not about considering the sexual energy. A difficult choice.”


“When you jump in the water, you get wet. When swimming throughout the aether, you get magnetized, energized. For a person inside a woman’s body, this means sexual energy.”


“Hormones are manifestations of subtle sources, like longing and desire.”

“Are there others?”

“Too many words and concepts and theories called in to describe a plain reality. But let Me simplify: consider that a magnet has its North pole and its South pole. Divide that magnet in two and see how the North/South pole pattern replicates inside the pieces, distinguishing them from the middle out to the extremities. No matter how many pieces you make out of a magnet, each of them will have a North/South configuration.”

“Like Man/Woman for the human ‘magnet’ if You allow me. Hmm. Reminds me of Plato.”

“What a good listener. You may connect with him, and Socrates, if you wish.”

“Groovy. Where are they?, in the City?”

“Believe Me or not,”

“You know that I trust in You with my whole being.”

“Calm down, Beatrice, and allow Me a play of words, will you? Believe Me or not, with all their fancy philosophies about the city, they chose the Garden. Had their corner turned into a forum that they call Agora. It is where they gather to speak and listen, to lurk and comment. And to give and accept blessings for this dolce vita that I keep providing to them.”

“Let’s talk about sex.”

“An essential goal of having sex is to grow new fractals on one’s family tree.”

“Boorishly said, to procreate. To have babies.”

“New persons (they kind of become adults in five to seven seconds), as I mentioned before: sex conveys, converts and conserves love, for persons trying to call those who are not as though they are. This is calling, or bringing, new ones into Eternity, which are not before the sex act but come to be after it is consumed.”

“I know how it works, but let me ask You again, to straighten it up in my mind: this function, was it active before the serpent?”

“Yes, my dear little one. It has nothing to do with the serpent. Shall I remind you that there is no serpent up here in Eternity, among Us. That whatever serpent-related deed can only belong to that particular cube and that’s for a limited while. Because when I’ll cleanse it, formatting it anew, then there won’t be any serpent left. Look, can you remember about [no-name]?”

“No. I just have a bizarre feeling, of a cold void, whenever you mention [no-name] and nothing else.”

“This [no-name] used to be the first-born of the serpent’s union with its mother Astarte. It pretended to be the god of all gods and blah, and blah. By Kronos, and by you Beatrice, all that blah had been erased from any existence and from all memory. Can you picture this?, We can’t even pronounce its [no-name] name.”

“I remember my last minutes on earth, at the bottom of the pit, under the Eye of Africa, firing up, throughout the Richat crystals, at a giant in the sky.”

“And you can’t remember its name?”

“Can You speak it out?”

“No, I can’t. Because you, little one, and another giant in the sky, giving his life in the process, you two had erased [no-name].”

“And this is a foreshadowing for us to understand about the clearing of the serpent, out of that cube and out of all memory?”

“Yes. That will be My feat. Way swifter, if you allow Me.”

“We’re still digressing, Lord.”

“Not as much as you’d want to admit.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Igniting stars in the sky with a beam emerging from your heart, can you do the math?”

“No math would break it down into equations. May I copy Your mind again?, but of course I may: You telling me that all that light, whiter than white, all that incommensurable power charging the burning beam, all of that comes from my sexuality? All of that??”

“Just the sparkle. You have ignited the beam with your personal history, with your cosmic position, with your geological location. You were the key, and the cannon. Yet all that incommensurable power that has been directed throughout your heart, against an embodiment of evil, all of that charge came from every woman that longed and desired, that suffered offense and abuse or, on the contrary, that rejoiced in love and understanding.”

“From Eve on?”

“Farther back: from Astarte on. She was [no-name]’s mother after all.”

“And these women from Eternity? The ones that never jumped in, or never cared?”

“Asking them, they contributed. A Tesla or two per head.”

“That’s huge.”

“Huge for your stupid wars down that cube, yet nickels up here in Eden.”

“With Kronos and his reality-star Saturn at the other end of the circuit, I can sense karma.”

“Your sense of justice is PERFECT.”

“Isn’t that sad?”

“Karma is usually a sad thing. Yes. Why do you wonder?”

“Because longing and desiring, even throwing a nickel down the cube, that makes a soul swing
between sorrowful states. Seldom cheering, for a moment, before stumbling on another box of regrets. And pain, so much pain!”

“Sex calls pain. It’s a fact.”

“Even here?”

“Even here. Only thing here is that pain is less than the nickel thrown away. It is forsaken there in minuscule, manageable vibrations.”

“We can’t conquer without pain.”

“I call those who are not as though they are. Only I can make this call. And you, women of Eden, you volunteer through the little pains, bringing new persons into existence.”

“No pain, no gain.”

“For a French girl, your English is ravissant. And for all the French down there: women of Eden have sex with men of Eden, while I only nominate the candidate souls. I am the jury offering prizes at this eternal dancing contest.”

“Let me marvel a bit: You pour all these blessings, that one may easily interpret as orgasms, all over us, women of Eden, so we can forget about pain?”

“Yes. I’ve taken all pain on Me, on the Cross, a one-time action, so that all of you, not just women of Eden, can forget about pain.”

“Discovering, I ask: was Eve capable of sex, and birth, before encountering the serpent?”


“Did she?”

“Yes and no. Platonic charms exchanged, which here counts as sex, but no birth before having the ish Kain from the serpent.”

“How about Freyja?”

“Same as Eve. You should ask about the unknown, to your readers, women of Eden who had sex and gave birth before the few events marking your history and legends down that abysmal cube. For My patience is limitless, and I wish to comfort you with even deeper answers, even when you repeat the same question over and over. These women, other than Freyja and Eve, have no regrets. Staring ahead, they march, they dance, they have sex, they give birth, they live! It’s that simple. Sex is simple up here.”



#Beatrice Thirsting for… What exactly?

“No regrets? No looking back?”

“It may happen when you miss your orgasms. Tell Me about you. Regrets?”

“When I had to leave mom in the desert. Could not take her with me to Mauritania, for that new mission.”

“You called Me and I took her Up overnight. She lives in the City now, ninth choir at level ninety-nine. You’ve been hearing her voice more than you know.”

“Bach! Raining with Bach?”

“Your mom, and her sisters, rain Bach on your always thirsty spirit. Yes.”

“Is my thirst for social justice linked to my sexuality?”

“Thirst, for anything, is a clear symptom of a vibrant sexuality. Yes.”

“But I feel no thirst here. Do I?”

“Back to your ever-waving orgasms. Look at the rivers running around you.”

“They run into the River. Tributaries?”

“Tributaries, yes. They source?”

“Let me see. Uhm… Where do they source from? Can’t figure.”

“Look around.”


“Carefully, one more turn.”

“One more turn, looking. No see.”


“You don’t tell me… that… that I am the source.”

“You are the source of all these rivers surrounding you. Rivers of living water flow from within you.”

“How can I be thirsty, still?”

“You are a fighter, not a singer. You are a traveller, not a settler. But I can cure your thirst. If you wish.”

“By turning me into something else? I am a fighter, not a singer. I am a traveller, not a settler. You said.”

“I also said that I can calm your thirst. What I did not say was turning you into something that you were not meant to be.”

“Ah, okay, jumping words. Sorry.”

“Do you wish I calm your thirst?”

“I do.”

“Take My hand. Walk with Me.”

“Walking, we already arrived?”

“More about the destination, less about the route. This is the island of Damaris.” Waiving and pointing, Yasu continues. “Beatrice, meet Damaris. Damaris, meet Beatrice. May I leave you to your own?”

“Only if you kiss me!” Kissing her, He leaves.

“Oh, Beatrice, you bring joy and blessings. Be welcome to my island!”

“Thank you, Damaris. Thank you for welcoming me. I am happy to meet you. How many weeks of pregnancy?”

“Weeks? You must be new around here.”

“Just arrived.”

“I see. You are a Bride. A Wonderful Bride.”

“Why do you speak in Capitals?”

“And quite a badass. I sensed you right. He-he…”

“Those of us who own their pregnancy will deliver in seven days.”

“What is a day here?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“What is an hour here?”

“Sixty minutes.”

“What is a minute here?”

“Sixty seconds.”

“What is a second here?”

“A heartbeat of Yasu Khrist.”



“Do you own your pregnancy, Damaris?”

“I do.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means that I made love to my man and, consequently, our Lord granted us the privilege to bring a new life within Eden.”

“You play and He allocates new slots.”

“According to His will. Yes.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Wish to find out?”

“Oh yes, of course.”

“Come closer. Give me your hand.”

“Can I touch? Here?”

“Rather touch me here first.” Holding Beatrice’s hand, Damaris moves her palm around her belly, twice. Like a whisper of wind. “Now let me introduce you to our new apprentice.” Pressing her palm with a firm move, over the stomach. “Can you feel my son?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Will you have him?”

“Uhm… yes… why not?”

Aaand swoosh. Beatrice becomes pregnant the next instant after her acceptance.

Holding her hand, grabbing her other hand, Damaris breathes over her. “Relax and rejoice together with my son. Know him and let him learn to know you.”

“What is going on?… How… is… how is… wow, wooaaaahwhwhw, Oh My! Tell, tell me… Damaris! What have you done… what have you done to me? Oh, ohhh, waaah, this is… so… wonderful.”

Smiling, Damaris allows her to sit on the blue grass. “It’s your first time, dear.”

“My first time, yes. You should know.”

“I knew. It’s standard procedure with me. Yasu brings me the newbies. He says that I am the best at this.”

“At what?”

“Baby sharing!”

“A-ha. Let me speak as I learn. To cement my new experience. First off: thank you for the ORGASM!!! This is so… so marvellous. Beyond amazing. And to you, the reader finding yourself reading about my new experience in Eden, I turn to you, telling everyone willing to hear, that no words and no music, that I know of, can describe what I am feeling right now, the many ways that are given for me to connect with another human being: the son of Damaris. Oh wait, what will be his name dear?”

“Dunno yet. His father will pronounce it upon birth.”

“Where is his father now?”

“There where the grass is green, around our tree.”

“What is he doing there?”

“Crafting some dialing device.”

“So he’s a craftsman.”

“Yes, like all Atlassians. We are crafts people.”

“You too?”

“I devise graphs for water flux patterns in trees.”

“And you want me to teach your son? I look so dumb compared to only what you’ve been mentioning as job titles.”

“Oh, dear dear Beatrice. First, there’s no job here in Eden. Only hobby. We’re all hobbyists. We don’t pay bills because everything we can imagine is provided to us. Yet, pursuing happiness, which is more than making love, we build things, to innovate and invent, to make creation a bit prettier, a bit more interesting, another bit less scary.”

“It scares you? What scares you?”

“The frontier. The barrier. The edge!”

“What edge? I can’t see any.”

“Do you think that this Garden is infinite?”

“Uhm, no. Just limitless.”

“Correct. And where do you find that there are no limits?”

“Within our souls, our creativity, maybe?”

“Exactly. With this, we push the edge farther away. Farther from our tree. Farther from the neighboring trees. Farther from the City.”

“You are pioneers!”

“Like all Atlassians.”

“Damaris dear, may I ask you something?”


“When did you arrive here?, in Eden.”

“When Tiamat exploded. Our avatars died. Our souls regrouped here.”

“Have you done a complete tour of the Garden?”

“Yes, with every new child of mine, when maturing, I take a tour, then his or her father takes a tour.”

“You surely know about the sea of cubes, way back to our left, across the wide River.”

“I do.”

“How many were there when you had your first tour?”


“Oh my!”

“Oh My indeed. May I have my baby back?” Gently pressing her hand over Beatrice’s stomach, swoosh, Damaris brings her baby back to her womb. “Thank you, Beatrice, for teaching my baby.”

“Teaching? Me? It seems like the other way around.”

“Not entirely exact. You shall see.”

“Okay, thank you too. Hope that you won’t mind if I visit again.”

“Will call you for a swoosh during my next pregnancy.”

“Splendid. I don’t want to miss it. Thank you so much!!”

“You’re welcome. Always. And Beatrice!”


“Take care with that Loki guy, will ya?”

“Sure, why?”

“He knows how to punch a hole or two. We don’t want that.”



// update 2019 November 16th

#Beatrice Meeting Her Mom in the City


“Yes, little thing.”

“May I visit my mom, in the City?”

“You may,” Yasu is already next to her, “let Me put some cloth on you.”

“Hair not enough?”

“Hair not enough.”

“–For the civilized people in the City.”

“Don’t be rude, Beatrice.”

“Not rude, just sarcastic, a bit. Dunno why. It looks like a resentment, because it is.”

“From all your years as a nun, maybe?”

“Definitely. That should be the cause. On the other hand, You know, I did like it when wearing the uniforms of the French Foreign Legion.”

“You’re more of a fighter than you’d wish to admit.”

“Longing for nostalgia. For my mother!”

“Okay, here you go, with this white robe covering your gracious curves.”

“Is it white linen?”

“White light.”

“Solid light?”

“Smooth to the touch.”

“No hindrance, nothing to feed my old resentment. I sniff a sense of the divine civilization of the City.”

“Shall We?”

“Yes. Take my hand, Lord.”

“Let Us walk to the City.”

“No jump?, like when visiting the island of Damaris.”

“No jump. One needs to thoroughly walk towards the City. To get closer, one step at a time. There is no leap but a path to the City.”

“A path of initiation.”

“Unlike nature, surrounding Us here in the Garden, a civilization is a gradual, and recurrent, advancement.”

“But nature works gradually and recurrent too.”

“Other than the Atlassians with their dialing devices, and other crafted gadgets, natural people enjoy the moment, living out of time.”

“Everyone is out of time here, because there is no such thing as time, right?”

“Correct. No time. You’ll see what I mean. Look at that gate.”

“Looking. Oh, and where is the grass?, left behind. We’re stepping on solid gold now.”

“Emerald. And gold, yes. The walls taking over the horizon. Can you feel the breeze?”

“Yes, what is it?, this breeze.”

“The music, the rhythm, the pulse of the City.”

“Your City, Lord.”

“My City indeed.”

“Mom? Mom is waiting for Us at the gate. Wow!”

“Run, little thing, run!”

Running, Beatrice embraces her mom. Smiling, Yasu says, “I’ll leave you to your joy. When you wish to call Me, you know what to do.”

“Where are you going?, Lord.”

“To the center.”

“Oh, the command center. Yes, I remember.”

“This one, however, stands at level one.”

“Not just a joke relating to Rebecca, but also a desire: may I visit Your command center?”

“Your mom will guide you.” And He left.

“Mom! You crying? Can one cry here?”

“These are my tears of joy, give me your face. Oh, my little one. Welcome to the New Jerusalem!”

“Thank you, mom. Peace be upon you.”

“Follow me!”

“Yes, mom.”

Following, Beatrice wonders her marvelous peridot eyes around tall splendors of transparent gold. To a hovering Archangel, they look like sisters, even twin sisters if not paying too much attention. “We are ageless here, in the City.”

“I understand. It’s– it’s so– so wonderful. Fantastic!”

“Yet nothing more real.”


“This way!”

“Oh, the river!”

“Yes, the river, on each side the tree of life.”

“Mom, tell me about you.”

“I am where I always wished to be. Praising our Lord Yasu Christ. Singing for my daughter. Living!”

“You are perfect, mom!”

“Me?, just a voice. He is Perfect!”

“He IS. Yes.”

“Mom, wish to chat with you. About years gone by.”

“Shhh. Look!” Words cannot describe and minds cannot comprehend. Minutes later. “Now come, follow me.” They exit on another gate and, taking some distance, they stop, turn around and rest in admiration of the City. “Here we may chat. Our minds are less overwhelmed by the Glory of the Ever-Living. You know, Beatrice, I am so grateful for you.”

“After you passed away…”

“I know everything. Perhaps even better than you do.”

“Oh, how comes?”

“The Lord took me with Him, to Him. Exactly as we have prayed together, that night, remember? Together with Rebecca and Alain, and Guy, the…”

“Guy, the helicopter pilot. Yes, I remember.”

“I told The Almighty that I dare ask Him one single question: if He will allow me to monitor you wherever you go, and if I can sing for you, pleasing Him with my voice, and if you will be able to hear me.”

“Already three questions.”

“Hah, exactly what He answered me. Then, with a kiss on my forehead, He gave me this.”

“What is this? I cannot see it.”

“My name.”

“Can’t see, can’t understand, can’t hear.”

“You will. Now it is too early for you. But ask me about anything, please.”

“Mom, forgive me for asking: did you love or hate sex?”

“Hated it, like hell.”

“Can you speak this word up here?”

“Any word. This is why I took you out of the gates.”

“Because inside?”

“Inside these words, that are not, won’t get out of one’s mouth, not even into one’s mind.”

“Because these words are not?”

“How can one speak, in the center of everything, of something that is nothing? How could one think of such?”

“Clear as crystal. Good that we have the Garden for things of nought.”

“This vast Garden, yes, like everything to everyone, like many things to many persons, like a shade of sorrow, a souvenir of sin, maybe.”

“What are you talking?, mom! No serpent and no sin can attain the Garden.”

“Not anymore. Indeed. Yet my regrets, I cannot find them in the City, where no shadow lays on no wall, why then -little thing- do I come here, out of the gates, every Wednesday, to remember my regrets? Isn’t this a sin that I bring with me along?”

“Have you asked Yasu?”



“I already asked Him three questions instead of one.”

“Come on, mom…”

“But He asked me, knowing my soul. And I told Him about these shadows, that I see my sins in them.”

“What did He say to you?”

“That sin is no more. Not here in Eternity, not there inside those gamer cubes, not in any corner of the Existence that He pings when He so wants. However, if I say what I say, if I think what I think, then it is a sin of the sad soul refusing to look forward, into the future.”

“But there’s no future, no past, only the present!”

“Says Beatrice, a creature of the Garden, dancing with generals, harnessing daemons and pouring the fatal fire over Jupiter.”

“Oh la la, maman. What did you just say?”

“That you are a happy woman, carelessly daring your luck through impossible challenges. You must be so awesomely filled with joy. Hope that our choir, raining with Bach all over you, and your acolytes, has helped, even if just a bit.”

“Oh mom, it helped a lot. More than you think. But, what about the fatal fire, over what?”

“Over Jupiter, can’t you remember?”

“This [no-name] is the giant in the skies, down the abyss of that cube, that I was given the privilege to extinguish, once and for all. It had to be out of any existence and our of all memory. And now, and now, you come and tell me its name: [no-name]? Not even I can pronounce it, not even Yasu, but you can? Something is going on here. I don’t understand.”

“When inside the City, I can’t even think of it, less pronoucing it. Yet when I come here, there I go saying Jupiter, or Zeus. It happens. Why? Could this be a consequence of my regrets?, of that sin that I carry in my soul?”

“In earth-years, 179 summers ago you were taken, by Yasu, out of Sahara. You say that every Wednesday, all these years, you have been taking a break here, in this very place, where your regrets keep haunting your soul. And this happens next to the City, and Yasu can’t do a thing about this?”

“He can’t, as long as I don’t want to. He shall heal me when I will allow Him.”

“Free will. Hum, what day is today?”


“Gotcha! All this, it’s only in your head. There are no Wednesdays around here.”

“Well, yes, as the crazy stuff you’re doing is all in your head, and as the whole creation is in the Head of The Ever-Living. Of course that it’s all in my head, the Wednesdays and the weeks, and so on.”

“You’ve gotta let it go. The baggage.”

“Good. I knew this all the time. And you will help me to let it all go.”

“Why not Yasu?”

“Told Him that I want you, my daughter. My brilliant daughter.”

“Okay. Don’t interfere between the mother and her child.”

“Why do you make jokes like this? You’ve never been a mother. How do you know?”

“Well, mom, as you know, they used to call me an aunt for Easter and Saturn, but that was more like a honorary title. But a couple of hours ago, when visiting Damaris on her island, she shared her baby with me and -YES!- I’ve been a mother, even if carrying her baby for a few minutes. What a blessing, beyond words.”

“I am happy for you, my little one. Wish I could be as happy as you are, even for a few minutes. But I can’t.”

“Why, mom, tell me.”

“Maurice was the only man that I loved. Yet not the only man in my life. And don’t you dare bow your head, like you always did back in the village. Look at me! Look me in the eyes, if you wish to help me heal.” Crying, Beatrice nods, looking her mom in the eyes as she continues. “What if I loved your father so much?, being a soldier, in a world at war, his orders were always stronger than my desire to keep him near. Did he love me like I loved him? Yes, now I know. Yasu told me (this was my fourth question, forgot to mention, sorry). Why do you laugh?”

“Laughing, I called Yasu and asked Him, just like this, if there’s a chance He tells papa that you need him. Desperately.”


“And voila! Look at your three o’clock.” General Maurice Challe, wearing a crimson hazmat suit, runs towards them.

“Maurice. M–” she almost faints.

“Nah, nah, nah. Not on My watch.” Fixing her to stand up, welcoming Maurice with a smile, the Lord takes their hands, together in His, and asks, “Tayri, do you take Maurice as your lawful husband?”

“Y-yes,” speaks Beatrice’s mom in tears of joy.

“Maurice, do you take Tayri as your lawful wife?”


“I pronounce you husband and wife. Maurice, you may kiss the bride.”

In sounds of shofars, on voices of celestial choirs, under angels painting the firmament with raining petals, and with Bach, we have a wedding. An ad hoc ceremony.

“Out of the blue.”

“Out of your sparky mind, little thing.”

“Oh, Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, thank You for healing my regrets, for clearing the shades out of my soul. Thank You, thank You!”

“You’re a stubborn breed. I know. All you had to do was ask. Love you, Tayri, and I know that you love Me, and Maurice and especially Beatrice. Your lesson for this Wednesday is LOVE YOURSELF as much as you love Beatrice and Maurice, and just a little bit less than you love Me. Okay. I’ll leave you now.”

“Not before giving me a little kiss, Lord.” Kissing His bride, Yasu leaves.

“Papa! Oh how happy I am to see you again. There have been 214 years. Long time no see. How are you doing?”

“Let me hug you first. My little one! You look exactly like your mother. I am so happy to see you. Oh, and what a beam of fire through the skies. Je te dis bravo!”

Hugging her father, Beatrice finds herself asking, “the beam, you’re talking about what beam exactly?”

“The juncture between Saturn’s descent and your extraordinary beam, turning [no-name] into the Second Sun. Everyone is talking about you. I tell them that that’s my daughter, from the French Foreign Legion, ya know.”

“Maman! That giant in the skies, you were mentioning, tell me its name please?”


“No, the other one.”

“Uhh, [no-name]?”

“Thank God, you’re healed. Hallelujah!”

“Dunno why you talking so much about that [no-name]. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Papa, papa. Wish to know on what fronts are you fighting now?”

“On Titan, decimating the replicant armies. Looks like there’s no end to this war. They keep materializing out of thin methane.”

“Not for long. This would be their last Wednesday!” Speaks Tayri out of the blue.

Neither Beatrice nor her papa were accustomed to hear maman interrupt their so important political or strategic chatter.

“Tayri, can you please divulge us your sources?”

“But of course. Johann told me once that he will play at my wedding on a Wednesday, and that will be the last Wednesday. Here is my wedding. Here is the last Wednesday. Have you sensed Bach in the raining petals?”

“We did, maman. We did. Hmm,” looking to papa, “seems to me that maman knows more than she has.”

“Well, our military mantra used to be that we have more than we know.”

“The blessings are the same, but the perspectives differ, quite a lot,” infers Tayri. “From where you wonder, be it under times, or amongst falling paradigms, or even around this magnificent Garden, one can do little with the following saying of Yasu:”

“I have come to set fire to the earth, and I only wish it were already burning.”

“Still, within the City, week after week after week, everyone is awaiting for this Sunday to come. For the Day of the Lord. Dominica! Your two suns down there can’t hold much water, can they? Like the sun, like the moon, like stars and skies, days will end this Dominica, when our Lord Yasu Khrist will descend the New Jerusalem over a new land, making a new sky and all things anew.”

#Beatrice Puzzling Her Mind

“My beloved parents, because today is your wedding day, please allow me a step back, and please rejoice in your togetherness. Love you both. Maman!,” hugging an kissing Tayri on both cheeks, “Papa!,” a long hug and a firm kiss by Maurice on his daughter’s forehead.

Turning left, she runs like a feline over the green grass. “Looks taller here, the grass, and -wow- the smooth cloth of light is nowhere I can see. I am natural again. Lord? Yasu? Wish to ask You something but!, if You’ve got more important things to do, please don’t bother, just send me Your answers, as You’ve always done.”

Yasu appears next to her, running along, like an Athlete. “You know what, little thing, when you’ve been down the abyss, inside that cursed cube, well, then we had telepathy. And it was good. But now, that you are here, running like a gazelle through Eden, I wish to keep you company. Never mind about other business. I can be in many places, talking to many at the same time. So ask Me, what is tormenting your mind?, Beatrice.”

“I love You, Lord, and You already know what puzzles me, like throwing my brains left and right, up and down, ahead and behind, like a compass losing her North.”

“I am your North. So, do you wish to know how in Eden did I just officiate a lawful wedding the hour before?”

“From the Scriptures, if I remember well, You’ve told some Sadducees that those worthy men are not taking women, neither women taking men.”

“Let Me rewind that dialogue, according to Luke:”

But some of the Sadducees came, those who say that there is no resurrection, and they asked him,
And they were saying to him, “Teacher, Moses wrote to us that if a man dies and his brother has a wife without sons, his brother shall take his wife, and he shall raise up a son to his brother.”
“But there were seven brothers and the first took a wife and he died without sons.”
“And the second took her for his wife, and he died without sons.”
“And the third again took her and thus also the seven of them, and they died and left no sons.”
“And finally the woman died also.”
In the resurrection therefore, whose wife will she be, for the seven of them married her?
Yeshua said to them, “The sons of this world take women and women are given to men.
But those who are worthy for that world and for the resurrection from among the dead are not taking women, neither are women taking men.
For neither can they die again, for they are like The Angels, and they are the children of God because they are the children of the resurrection.
But that the dead rise, Moses also declared, for he recounts at the bush, when THE LORD THE EVER-LIVING said, “The God of Abraham and the God of Isaaq and the God of Jaqob.
But he was not the God of the dead, but of the living, for all of them were alive to him.”
And some of the Scribes answered, and they were saying to him, “Teacher, you have spoken beautifully.”
And they dared not ask him about anything again.

“Yes!,” confirms Beatrice as her feet find ground to rest, her eyes staring straight in her Groom’s, “how comes?”

“That poor woman, transferred like inherited property from man to man, used to be the norm in human history. Lawfully or lawlessly, men traded women like objects, like sex slaves. Hear those deluded scholars infer to Me: ‘In the resurrection therefore, whose wife will she be, for the seven of them married her?’ Have you noticed their sarcasm against Me? Like saying: ‘can’t You see that resurrection would contradict what Moses wrote to us, that our twisted letters can’t work if there would be a resurrection, look!, case in point: the woman and seven brothers banging her according to the law, and etc.”

“You’re cussing again, Lord?”

“I am in My own Garden, so I can do whatever I wish to do. But then, down there on their streets, I politely replied that their letters don’t apply Up here. Look!, have you noticed that what goes in the Garden is a no-go in the City?”

“Yes, a huge difference.”

“You also understand, I know that you do, that even here all over this Eden, rules differ from place to place, from the island of Damaris, to the blue trees, to the sea of cubes, across rivers and rivers, and around several other places that you still have to discover.”

“Yes, Lord, there is no standard rule in the Garden. But the universal absolutes that had me overwhelmed inside the City.”

“Even there, in the immediate proximity to The Almightiness, to the Alpha and the Omega, to My given dominion within my Father, The Ever-Living, even there We have a process, and processes running to an end, or to certain ends, then flourishing in novel and untold marvels. Life is noisy and dynamic and not so orderly. Graves in cemeteries are silent and perfectly aligned, like when Our Spirit has left the letters dead.”

“Sadducees were like Marxists, not believing in Spirit. Yet some of them have been moved by Your words.”

“All you’ve got to do is listen and stand awake. Simple. Back to the woman. Give Me your hand,” Beatrice grabs His right with her left, “and the other hand now,” she grabs His left with her right, “your mother had suffered like that woman in this example, like millions and millions of women under religious repression by men like the Sadducees.”

“I suspected this, yet I was afraid to ask her.”

“Do you know why? Because she rained her fears all over you. She lived her early life under terror. If not for your father, and the few days when they’ve conceived you, then a few more hectic months here and there, I may tell you that she was a dead living for the pleasure of her master traders.”

“This is why she hates sex, like hell. She told me this.”

“Because sex had been hell to her. Makes sense.”

“And papa?”

“He was her prince charming, and she was the love of his life, the mother of his daughter that he loved, even more than France, as he once said.”

“We haven’t spent much time together. He came and went, more like visiting. Be it at my mom’s home, where he used to arrive after dark, be it at the monastery, where he insisted to be as incognito as possible.”

“You know why?”

“He had all sorts of enemies. Think he was running some clandestine operations. But he never talked about that.”

“Protecting you, and your mother, he had to stay away from you. Yes, when not involved in a putsch, or when not imprisoned, he played the dangerous game of spies during the Cold War.”

“No one had to know about us.”

“And no one did. Well, I did.”

“Thank You for taking care of us all!”

“Now, tell me, little thing, do you give Me credit for the following facts?”

“What facts?”

“Fact one: Maurice and Tayri were soulmates, matched by Me before they’ve even been born.”

“I give You that!”

“Good. Fact two: Tayri had been, for the most part of her life, a sex slave to seven ruthless men.”

“What did she do to them?”

“She killed them, one by one, intelligently and even aesthetically, leaving no trace back to her charming plots.”

“Oh My, I didn’t know that. Maman killing seven men?”

“Her torturers. Yes.”

“And, forgive me, You host a killer in the City?”

“Self defense is no killing, Beatrice dear. She did the right thing. I even helped her.”


“I help victims, ya know.”


“Indirectly. Called Odin and he gave the case to Loki.”

“A-ha. Let me see. Loki does the wet work for Odin.”

“In this case, he only had to counsel your mom, because she was more than willing to get rid of those men.”

“Good riddance.”

“When you’ll hear Me say it, then you’ll know that those men had no souls, and nothing to do with Me. So hear Me saying: Good riddance.”

“Still, terminating those people didn’t heal her regrets. Even in the City, she had to run away, every Wednesday, as she said, to cry and suffer. Is this another challenge to our understanding of what has been written in the Scriptures?”

“Killing won’t heal the fears of the killer. It just gave her more air to breathe until you’ve been killed by those Tutsi rebels and, fixed by Yours Truly, you chose to join her and give her a decade of joy. Not even the happy years, together with her daughter, could water down all her fears. And, as We both know, not even ten thousand weeks of singing in the City.”

“I cannot wrap my mind around all this. Tell me, Lord.”

“Under the golden altar in the center of the City…”

“…in front of Your Throne…”

“…where the souls are gathering and awaiting for the final week to meet a conclusion. There is where We focus the pulse of the entire City: every person that gives his or her blood for Me, every person counts, like I did on the Cross, to My Father, when giving My Blood for them. This is Our weekly routine in the City: welcoming and comforting and giving hope to every person that died for My Name.”

“But mom didn’t…”

“Don’t confuse deaths, little one. When you called Me to take her with Me, I came and took her. Officially a peaceful death in sleep. In fact a smooth teleportation out of her tormented body and into her original flawless body that she inhabits now. And mark My words, little thing: your mother, Tayri, was treated as a whore, an infidel harlot, and as fair game to those seven infamous people; they all knew that she is a Christian.”

“How did they? She told me to keep my mouth shut, to hide under the burkah, to never talk to anyone while in the village. That’s why I moved her to the middle of nowhere, deep in the Sahara.”

“When tortured by the owners of her body, she called Me, out loud, praying to Me to spare her. This is why I treat her like a special one. Because everyone calling Me, in sorrow or in joy, is special to Me.”

“Papa knew?”

“He knows now. After I united them into one body, he intertwined her new flesh, somehow similar to the way Adam had been before I separated him from Eve, or Eve from him, if you wish to pay attention to the detail.”

“She never told papa.”

“She never told anyone. Screaming My Name only in the moments when she could not endure the pain anymore. Which were no few moments. Crying with her, feeling her pain within Me, I said enough is enough and called Odin into the game.”

“Good riddance!”

“Good riddance.”

“And papa, what was he doing with those replicant armies on Titan? Astarte and Kronos were mentioning about them too.”

“He was just fighting his own daemons.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Secrecy, that used to be the main daemon haunting the Earth before Astarte landing inside it and turning everything out to explicit comedy or dramedy or tragifarce or whatever crazy composite word you’d wish to associate with that fool.”

“Astarte is the epitome of honesty. I give her that.”

“Indeed, yet she knew how to hide a secret or two under this total transparency. No one could figure.”

“No one?”

“Well, Me because all I need to see a secret is being curious, and I was curious about Astarte. And then Rebecca, she’s about to find out in a minute or two.”

“I’m not curious now. Will ask You when I’ll need to know. Tell me please about papa.”

“Maurice learned one thing: that he must fight the Soviets, as a godless system, and that he has to stand against all godless people, regardless if they were behind his back or across the frontline.”

“Frontlines, he used this term quite a lot.”

“When taking him to Me, I gave him some choices, like I did with you.”

“And he chose…”

“To keep fighting against the godless. There you go, Maurice, Titan brims with replicant armies.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore. Do you know why?”


“Because, asking Me, you called your papa to meet your maman. The moment I took him out of the battlefield, Titan popped off, like a bubble of soap.”

“A nightmare’s end.”

“A nightmare’s end.”

“What will they do now?”

“Indecent question, may I tell you?”

“Yes, I cannot wait.”

“To Tayri’s pervasive Bach, Maurice introduced the unexpected Berlioz.”

“A storm in the making.”

“Another Storm. I like Storms. Yes.”

#Beatrice Visiting the NetherLands


“Yes, little thing.”

“The Magdalene, Your first bride?”

“As Son of Man, yes, My first bride. Asked her about your asking. She is game. Will send you there, okay?”


Swoosh, her body vanishes before a handful of sparkles light the air.

“What a fluffy grass.”

“Welcome to my corner of happiness, Beatrice. Take care with the grass, it’s meaty and moist. I’d rather hover above it. Look at me. Take heed.”

“Ah, yes. Here I am, hovering. Used to be a fairy of the desert back in the day.”

“Flying over dry and scorched sands. You may learn to approach this land like a gentle touch, as you’d wish to cuddle but not yet.”

“Thank you for having me, Maggie. Can I call you Maggie?”

“You can call me however you wish. I don’t mind. Never did.”

“I wish to ask you about sex. And– and–”

“Say it, and porn. Sure. You’re asking the right person.”

“You know that I am a virgin, right?”

“I know everything about you, Beatrice. He told you that I’m His first bride. Not that being first would give me more knowledge than you, or anyone else.”

“You are first in chronological order. And, my two cents, you are the best of us. Not that I’d knew too well the rest of us.”

“I’m sure that you don’t flatter me. This won’t fly around here, through Eden. And you say that I’m the best ‘of us’ because you never had sex with any man, in a prosaic way, and because you really have no idea what porn is, other than pre-packaged church teachings. These are all politics.”

“I know, this is why I am visiting you now. First reason, actually. Second, I do wish to shake hands with His first bride, ya know.”

“Let me hug you, little thing.” The tall one and the little one hug each other affectionately, with their bare feet floating twelve inches above the fluffy grass.

“Are those cubes?”

“There, all over to the right, thousands of cubes, then beyond, over the horizon, the Holy City. Nice view, eh?”


“Porn. All these cubes are overflowing with it.”

“You don’t say?”

“I can prove it to you. I am the sys admin of the entire cube farm. I’ve got access. Here!” Maggie brings up a console, like a dark volume in thin air, where her fingers point to define unseen symbols.

“Right to left, is this Aramaic?”

“Aramaic is a humane language. This is […], like machine code, for controlling daemons inside every cube.”

“For starting and closing cubes too?”

“Can’t do that. Goes beyond my pay grade.”

“Pay? Are we talking money here?”

“Porn as a trade. One sells some talents in exchange for a few favors. The act of exchanging calls for a currency. So yes, money, sort of.”

“Like gold?”

“Trading gold is this close to blasphemy. Crypto is the currency of choice.”

“Why is trading gold disavowed?”

“Water and gold, oil and wine, bread and blood. All belong to our Groom. God is not mocked.”

“Indeed. What a sad cube we’ve been born into. Where gold used to mean money, water was sold by the bottle, oil priced like gold, wine and bread to buy votes, and… and… I can’t even say it.”

“And blood meant the ultimate currency, for the soulless elites, how they were pricing life, only to pat each other on the shoulder. Masters of the universe.”

“Void egos. Sons of the adversary.”

“Dust mites erring low through a void universe. Let me show it to you.” Tap, tap, tap, and tap. The dark console flats down to a circle. Slipping on itself, the circle fattens to a torus, like a donut (for the porn guys). Closed, yet opened within, the torus, pulsating up to a sphere, then down beyond to the circle, struggles to a Moebius donut but, eighting inside out, exhausted, flattens back to a circle. And the cycle starts on. Again. Back from the beginning.

“Is this?”

“Their much prized infinite. NULL. A snake without head, with no tail. Meh.”

“Like the serpent of Astarte.”

“A pussy fart, her ‘first born’ ruined an entire universe, that complete cube.”

“Nobody would believe you. No matter what volumes or codes you’d show them. Your proofs mean nothing to them.”

“You said well: nobody, because anyone can see what I’m telling you here.”

“Tell me, Maggie, your clients, were they all dust mites?”

“Some of them. I had to call daemons in the game, to live through those sessions.”

“The others?”

“Most were decent men. With their natural needs. Simple deals. Honest trading. Some have been quite generous.”


“Telling them that I prefer barter. Stuff I needed for my brother, for my sister, for family and for me, to make ends meet.”

“For the readers, during your lifetime on Earth, contemporary to our Lord, the Greek word for prostitute was porne, like a female slave sold for prostitution. However…”

“However, my porn was a free one. I wasn’t slaving to any master.”

“You were a freelancer, in early 21st century slang.”

“A free woman, working her trade out and hoping for a miracle.”

“He told me that, when touching your hand…”

“I don’t know what has He said to you, but let me tell you: touching the hand of The Son of Man makes your eyes Wide Open, your soul matching your self, your lungs living the Life, your heart touching the Love. Nothing that was matters any longer. Everything that comes is within you because you swooshed within Him.”

“No more Moebius bands.”

“Ha-ha. Pathetic cubes. No more. Daemons, that I thought dominated me, turned to dust mites. In a second. In that second!”

“Looks to me that you didn’t wish to escape those daemons, rather to contain them in a box.”

“Or several boxes. Yes. You know, people have a hard time understanding that the trade of a painter won’t be too far away from the trade of a porne.”

“Some gal said that sex should be something as natural as food, and pornography like gastronomy.”

“All it takes is keeping the daemons locked inside the box. Gluttony is a daemon too, ya know.”

“Excess is the enemy.”

“Excess is the enemy.”

“By the way, box. The alabaster box?”

“Wasn’t quite aware why saving all those dinars, year after year. Then I knew. At once. In that very second. And so I bought the alabaster box.”

“You have anointed the Christ!”

“With my hairs and my tears, anointing Him, I pledged my allegiance. Who I am, what I do, at His feet.”

“Judas commented and criticized you.”

“That snake head. He was hitting on me in secret.”

“Don’t you say?”

“I do say.”

“And how did you respond?”

“Being already touched by the Lord, I had nothing to fear. Told him that no means no. Daring no further, he mumbled.”

“And commented, and criticized you.”

“Good riddance.”

“Good riddance.”

“And Beatrice!”

“Yes, Maggie.”

“You know what.”


“Epstein didn’t kill himself.”


// update as of January 28th 2020

#Beatrice Yearning on the Beyond



“Yes, little thing.”

“What is outside of this Eden?”

“Beyond what you can sense inside here, there is […] and then […] before […].”

“Adverbs, conjunctions, prepositions, I got that. But the words that You said, those escape me.”

“Indeed they do.”


“Because of the limits you have set to your mind.”

“Uhm, wait a minute. I am here in Your Garden, God’s garden, where I entertain a dialogue with You, the Almighty, and You, my Lord, tell me that I have set limits to my mind?”

“As you can well hear, yes. Looking for the manifest, your mind keeps missing the unmanifest.”

“Even as it manifests? Like within You ALL can manifest.”

“Look for the unmanifest and ask Me without waiting for My answers to manifest within the limits inherent to your projection of reality.”

“I must meditate now. Will you join me, Lord?”

“Joining you. I will. Let Us meditate.”



“Yes, Beatrice.”

“Our meditation was short.”

“Yet revealing.”

“Like an eternity or two, no less.”

“You know now.”

“The Beyond, a yearning of mine, yet trivial to You.”

“Needing to yearn, you manifest the flux.”

“My soul keeps flowing, even next to You.”

“Moreso, next to Me. Now give Me your hand.”

“Here, take me, take me all!”

“The hand is enough,” pressing her little hand between His palms, Yasu calls her shy looks, “up, dare on, up, like this, yes.”

“I– I— I am the world. And You You– You— are my North.”

[…] […] […]

With a gentle turn, Yasu allows her hand to slip down as He, separating His palms, projects them left and right against her face, “did you enjoy it?”

“Oh yes! The […] and then the […] before the […] –words can’t tell. I know now. Thank you, Lord, for showing me.”

“Always My pleasure, little thing. Now, that you know, what do you plan to do about it?”

“Feeling my flux again. Yet different now. Not the same. Don’t know how to explain.”

“Flowing your flux is what makes you what you are. Being a woman is what causes this fluid dynamics.”

“Women make things move?”

“Women make things flow. Men make things move. I make things happen.”

“The soul of a woman is fluid. Allow me, Yasu, but You already do allow me, to remember from the late romantic times of Sisi, the love for her prince, the affairs in pursuit of liberty, the daemons that she knew to harness.”

“Paying her tribute, you will comfort many of your readers.”

“Where is she now?”

“At the moment, she’s playing herself inside the three cubes that she owns down to NetherLands. Later on, she’s going to join your mom in the City. They all cannot wait for this Sunday to commence.”

“She loves You.”

“Loving love, you all love Me. For I am your North.”

“But she loved Kronos too.”

“And Richard and Franz and George and Gyula and, yes, any cron manifesting to her, that she knowingly deemed a daemon.”

“And had never touched. Sex and love were different then. Even opposed in her case. Not touching what you love…”

“Especially a daemon. Or else that anarchist would have had none of her body to assassinate on the promenade.”

“Loving men and daemons. With a same passion?”

“Can passion be same?”

“You tell me, Lord.”

“Fluid dynamics. Study Euler and Riemann. Think in tangents.”

“And angles, and hyperbolas.”

“Look, Beatrice, before you’ll chase away the last reader, do Me a favor and switch your angles and hyperbolas down to poetry. Will ya?”

“Allow me, Yasu, these verses of hers.”

“O’er thee, like thine own sea birds
I’ll circle without rest
For me earth holds no corner
To build a lasting nest.”

“See? No nest, no loving sex. No rest, no joy in consuming her passions.”

“Another one.”

“I wander lonely in this world,
Delight and life long time averted,
No confidant to share my inner self,
A matching soul never revealed.”
(Sisi, The poetic Diary)


“I hasten to the realm of dreams, my master, there are you,
My soul, and heart, they jubilate, for you the only true.“

To my master, 1887

“She talking about Kronos here?”

“Quite confused. She wished for Me to get involved, to come and caress her soul. Yet those crons descending at her passionate tears, they belonged to Kronos.”

“She was yearning for affection. Why didn’t You?”

“What have you done to the crons seeking to meet you at your mom’s house in the village, Beatrice?”

“I got angry at them. Staring at their artificial perfection, I yelled my heart’s prayer, calling for You.”

“Were you yearning then?”

“Of course I was! Even now, even if a known impossibility here in Eden, I yearn, I wish to yearn for You, Yasu.”

“Notice the difference? Sisi, loving Me, yearned for affection, like a prisoner that she had to be.”

“Like in these little verses of hers.”

“An endless lake
Is my soul:
I see no end to it”

“Tell Me about your lake, Beatrice.”

“I’ve got no lake, but a cascade, a rapid, an Amazon. Like an Amazon flows my flux. Up and down. In yearn and in bliss.”

“See?, little thing, your soul like a starship’s engine, your thirst like a tempest, your desire summoned Me to be your Groom, on the spot, right away, or you’ll not admit any excuse. Not even from Me.”

“You overwhelm me, Lord.”

“Good that I do. Welcome to the club. You’ve been weaponizing Me with an unquenched passion for justice.”

“Now let me see: in return You made me the Weapon-woman that had to extinguish evil out of any reality and all memory.”

“Smart gal.”

“Just copying from Your mind, Lord. Back to Sisi, shall we?”

“Her soul, an endless lake, taught Me, and all of Us, about how it feels to be a prisoner.”

“And not fighting it back?”

“And not fighting it back, just living it through.”

“Heartbreaking. A melancholic woman, like many.”

“Not like you, little thing.”

“But I was suffering then. Out of sympathy, I’d suffer now, if I could.”

“A tear drop from the corner eye of an Archanagel.”

“You mean?”

“The sympathy of the military for civilians.”

“Can Archangels pierce through?”

“Through what?”

“The firmament!”

“Ah, only in pairs.”

“You mean?”

“A he and a she.”

“Where she is?”

“The flux, the flow, like in fluid dynamics.”

“And he is?”

“The north, like in magnets.”

“Wow, that is what kills the hyperbole here. Now I get it.”



“Atlas, fixer of Kronos, captured loosened out infinites inside fluctuating toroidal fields.”

“The endless negative of a hyperboloid becomes positive by ways of a torus.”

“Failure fixed.”

“Fallen angel saved.”

“More complicated than those three words, but eventually yes, with My little contribution.”

“On the Cross.”

“On the Cross. Fixing of a figure can get you only that far.”

“A music that gives us wings.”

“Like a woman becomes her man’s wings.”

“Waters and frequencies.”

“And My Spirit hovering over the surface of the waters.”


// update as of May 31st 2020





“Yes, little thing.”

“Fear and confusion. More fear and more confusion by the day.”

“You afraid, Beatrice?”

“Why should I be? I have You.”

“But the people?”

“Yes, the people. Overwhelmed by fears and confused by lies upon lies.”

“In this day?”

“Today, the day I post this blog entry.”

“You like to make our conversations public?”

“I do, and even more than that. I also like when other wives make them public.”

“By more than that, what do you imply?, little thing.”

“Not implying, I extend, I wish to put it out, our intimacy, all of it.”

“All of it?”

“Ah, to the extend that You allow me.”

“What if I allow it to you, to the extend that your own words can take it.”

“Subtle words?, explicit words?”


“Good. I am Beatrice Challe and I have called You, Yasu of Nazareth, to be my Prince Charming, to protect me from the lurking crons, to be my Groom, to make me Your bride and thus giving me all the freedom that I could ever imagine.”

“Did I come?”


“When you call Me, I come.”

“And the naughty would make a mock of Your line above.”

“That’s why they are naughty, to make something out of nothing.”

“God is not put to shame, for anything that a man sows he reaps.”

“True, little thing, good that they don’t consider Me to be God. That gives them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Yet, they deceive themselves.”

“Or they are deceived.”

“You always defend them. Like You’ve been finding Your lost sheep.”

“I do. I say to you that there shall be joy like this in Heaven over one sinner who returns home, more than over ninety nine righteous ones who do not need a homecoming.”

“These idiots.. May I call them idiots?, Lord.”

“You may. Or useful idiots, if you wish.”

“These useful idiots believe that You’ve been a Hippie Jesus walking the earth, marrying the Magdalene, having children with her, and that this offspring (that they call the Lineage of Jesus Christ) would have had united with the Merovingian dynasty, then ramify into medieval royalty and…”

“..And blah, and blah. Ain’t that sweet and subtle the deception, ain’t it bitter and blatant the temptation? Tell Me, Beatrice..”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Tell Me, do I make love to you?”

“All the time, Lord, all the time.”

“Are you a virgin still?”

“Always. A-haa. I now understand what You say here. Obtuse minds confuse sex with love.”

“And love with sex.”

“Loving me, You give me everything I ask from You.”

“Plus a sense of clairvoyance to step on solid ground…”

“..Wherever my free will desires to take me.”

“Wherever and whenever.”

“Wherever and whenever, indeed. While me, Your loving bride, I rejoice in knowing You, in listening to You, with my entire being.”

“True listening is worship.”

“Yasu, You quote from Martin Heidegger?”

“I quote from no one, they were listening to Me.”

“Worshiping in silence.”

“The most intimate connection.”

“Thousand times deeper than an orgasm.”

“How do you know that? You never had sex.”

“Well, the minds I can read, and You gave me the ability to read any mind…”

“I must admit, I did this.”

“…These minds told me everything about having orgasms, about the good and the bad, about the sublime and the grotesque, about the joy and the pain.”

“Sex brings pain.”

“Lord, a question nagging my mind: did Eve had sex with Adam before mating with the Virus?, did Freyja had sex with Odin before mating with the Virus?, did others too and do they still even if not meeting the Virus?”

“They did and they do.”

“Does this bring pain to them?”

“It does.”

“How comes?”

“Do you manifest empathy for your peers?”

“I do. And I see now. Other people’s sex brings pain to me, by sympathy. But this pertains to the fallen state of humanity, after the contamination. How about before the Virus?”

“The pain comes in the end.”

“What end?”

“When it ends, when Eve’s body separates from Adam’s, when Freyja departs from Odin’s, when distance brings emptiness.”

“Empty is what pain is made of?”

“Distance is a measure of emptiness, and of pain. The void, the abyss, the eventual desolation, the spider webs of sorrow and tears. Pains each soul, paired or not.”

“Are there unpaired souls?”

“Yes. Just as there are paired souls.”

“Wait a minute. Am I a paired soul?”

“Indeed you are a paired soul.”

“Uh, may I dare?”

“Dare on!”

“And You, Lord, You are my pair.”

“I am.”

“And You are Magdalene’s pair too.”

“Hers too. And many millions’ — and millions’ more — as well.”

“How many of Your brides gave You offspring?”


“Not even Mary the Magdalene.”

“Not even.”

“For the readers, Lord, tell us about Your bloodline.”

“I will, Like Matthew did.”

The book of the genealogy of Yeshua The Messiah, The Son of David, The Son of Abraham.
Abraham begot Isaaq, Isaaq begot Jaqob, Jaqob begot Yehuda and his brothers.
Yehuda begot Pharez and Zarah from Tamar. Pharez begot Hezron, Hezron begot Aram.
Aram begot Aminadab, Aminadab begot Nahshon, Nahshon begot Salmon
Salmon begot Boaz from Rahab, Boaz begot Obayd from Ruth, Obayd begot Jesse.
Jesse begot David the King, David begot Solomon from the wife of Uriah.
Solomon begot Rehoboam, Rehoboam begot Abia, Abia begot Asa.
Asa begot Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat begot Joram, Joram begot Uzaya.
Uzaya begot Jotham, Jotham begot Ahaz, Ahaz begot Hezekiah.
Hezekiah begot Manashe, Manashe begot Amon, Amon begot Joshaiah.
Joshaiah begot Jokania and his brothers in the captivity of Babel.
After the captivity of Babel, Jokania begot Shelathiel, Shelathiel begot Zorubabel.
Zorubabel begot Abiud, Abiud begot Eliakim, Eliakim begot Azor.
Azor begot Zadoq, Zadoq begot Akin, Akin begot Eliud.
Eliud begot Eliazer, Eliazer begot Matthan, Matthan begot Yaqob.
Yaqob begot Yoseph the guardian of Maryam, her from whom was begotten Yeshua, who is called The Messiah.
Therefore all generations from Abraham until David were fourteen generations, and from David until the captivity of Babel, fourteen generations, and from the captivity of Babel until The Messiah, fourteen generations.

“And Luke.”

But Yeshua was about thirty years old, and he was considered the son of Yoseph, son of Heli,
Son of Matthat, son of Levi, son of Melki, son of Yannai, son of Yoseph,
Son of Matatha, son of Amots, son of Nahum, son of Hesli, son of Naggai,
Son of Maath, son of Matath, son of Shimei, son of Yoseph, son of Yehudah,
Son of Yohannan, son of Resa, son of Zorobabel, son of Salathiel, son of Nari,
Son of Melki, son of Addi, son of Qosam, son of Elmodad, son of Ayr,
Son of Yose, son of Eliezer, son of Joram, son of Mathitha, son of Levi,
Son of Shimeon, son of Yehuda, son of Yoseph, son of Yonam, son of Eliakim,
Son of Melia, son of a Mainai, son of Matatha, son of Nathan, son of David,
Son of Ashai, son of Obed, son of Boaz, son of Salmon, son of Nahshon,
Son of Aminadab, son of Aram, son of Hetsron, son of Pharets, son of Yehudah,
Son of Jaqob, son of Isaaq, son of Abraham, son of Terah, son of Nahor,
Son of Serug, son of Arau, son of Phaleg, son of Eber, son of Shalah,
Son of Qainan, son of Arphakshar, son of Shaym, son of Noah, son of Lamek,
Son of Methuselah, son of Enoch, son of Jared, son of Mehalaleil, son of Qainan,
Son of Enosh, son of Shayth, son of Adam, who was from God.

“You, Lord, are the end, the culmination, of Your bloodline, right?”

“Makes sense to Me, and it should make sense to you. I had no reason to procreate. I am The Living God, I create stuff, ya know.”

“I know, Lord, but for those who don’t, tell us more about the two bloodlines.”

“The Patriarchs and the Prophets had one main mission: to preserve the purity of My bloodline from contamination; because the serpent’s bloodline, by the first born of the Virus to Eve, the male Kain, these adversaries had their main mission to infect My bloodline. This is the core of the Old Testament.”

“And how this competition ends? I know that You’ve showed me, and told others too, but please repeat, for the sake of the readers.”

“Judas Iscariot, son of Kain, son of the serpent’s seed, hangs himself about the same day I die on the Cross. My bloodline ends with Me on the Cross while the serpent’s ends with Judas Iscariot hanging on the rope.”

“The curse of God for everyone who hangs on a tree.”

“Before I have concluded this curse, Judas Iscariot, son of Kain, had to hang himself on a tree, thus killing Kain, his forefather, son of the Virus, terminating that adversarial bloodline.”

“Parentheses within parentheses.”

“Any royalty that comes after this closure to claim descendance, inheritance, or succession to both these opposite bloodlines, is acting in error.”

“Even if they can prove like coming from Your cousins’ offspring, or from Kain’s many disparate seeds?”

“Even so. Bloodlines matter no more. Kain killed himself, by Judas. Adam redeemed himself, by Me. Because I make all things new.”

“No curse of the serpent’s seed?, even of their offspring?”

“No such curse.”

“Still some hate You vividly.”

“Hating Me, they hate themselves, for anything that a man sows he reaps.”

“In conclusion, no Jesus bloodline?”

“No Jesus bloodline, I put an end to it two millennia ago.”

“No Kain bloodline?”

“No Kain bloodline, Judas killed it.”

“Clean slate?”

“Yes. A new start.”

“People see you in different ways.”

“People that look to people. How do you see Me?”

“I look to You. I see what you show me. I take what You give me.”

“How many are like you?”

“Millions, and millions more?”

“No people, but persons.”


“Paired or unpaired.”

“People fail to see the works of pairings. Why?”

“Intimacy is a steal. Makes Me happy seeing you stealing My thoughts.”

“Don’t understand, Lord.”

“Pay attention in your charity giving, that you do it not in front of people so that you may be seen by them, otherwise there is no reward for you with your Father in Heaven. When therefore you do your charity giving, you should not blast a trumpet before you like the pretenders in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be glorified by the children of men; truly I say to you, they have received their reward. But you, whenever you do charity giving, let not your left know what your right is doing. So that your charity may be in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you in public.”

“Let me see: accepting Your Grace is a steal, yes?”

“Yes. Bathing in My Grace, people fail to steal it. Stealing it, they share away in secret. Seeing them in secret, makes Me happy. ”


Wives, be subject to your husbands as to Our Lord,
Because the man is the head of the woman just as The Messiah is also The Head of the church and he is The Savior of the body.
But just as the church is subject to The Messiah, in this way also wives are to their husbands in all things.
Husbands, love your wives, as The Messiah also loves his church and gave himself up for her sake,
To sanctify and purify her in the washing of water and in the word.
And he shall establish the church for himself without blemish or wrinkle, neither any such things whatsoever, but it will be holy and without defect.
In this way men ought to love their wives as their bodies. Whoever loves his wife loves himself.
For no man ever hated his own body, but he nourishes and cares for his own, just as The Messiah does also for his church.
Because we are members of his body and we are of his flesh and of his bones.
Therefore, a man should leave his father and his mother and should cleave to his wife, and the two of them shall be one flesh.
This is a great mystery, but I am speaking about The Messiah and about his church.

Ephesians 5:22-32

update 2020, June 24th


“Welcome back to the NetherLands, Beatrice!”

The Magdalene’s fingers are closing a cloud of consoles in thin air. “Wish for a hug?”


They hug warmly yet somehow frugally before the tall one captures the little one’s face between her firm palms.

“Let us bring our foreheads together, shall we?”

“Eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye, so it is, little thing. It brings us in sync just like this.”

“I see now!”

“What do you see, Beatrice?”

“I see that you see.”

“You mean?”


“You wish to have Loki. To master him like you did execute control upon Astarte.”

“It- it– it is one of my desires. Yes, Maggie. I wish to control Loki.”

“Why didn’t you express this wish to Yasu?”

“He should have read it already. My mind is an open book to Him.”

“Why didn’t you manifest it? Like a requirement. Like you enjoy calling Him for this or for that. This my question, Beatrice.”

“Um. Perhaps because I’m a bit scared myself.”

“Scared of what?”

“Maybe scared of my desires. Why do I wish to obtain control over nutjobs, train wrecks, loons? Why do I wish to fix other people?”

“Well, ain’t this who you are?”

“Who am I?”

“You are Beatrice, the social worker.”

“I was always looking for social justice.”

“Justice is work.”

“I am passionate about working, about getting the job done.”

“So fascinated that you arrive to invent new projects only for the sake of getting more work done.”

“Sounds like an addiction. Especially when coming out of your mouth, Maggie?”

The Magdalene smirks, inviting Beatrice to follow her deeper down the wet jungle of her NetherLands.

“So much dew on all these cubes. And that scent. Oh, or the other. So many scents!”

“These servers are heating way too much, too often. I spread the dew to cool them down. But you may forget about them. Look ahead, to the glades.”

“Left or right?”

“Pick your preference. It doesn’t matter to me.”


“Left for Loki. Makes sense.”

“Really? What makes sense here?”

“Not much.”

“If anything. Nonsense.”

“Follow me, to the closest glade to the left. Here. Let us sit.”

“A lovely spot. The grass is tall and dry, away from the surrounding servers.”

“You like it?”

“Reminds me of the brousse.”

“The African bush? But this is green.”

“Dry green. No dying plants in this Eden.”

“Yeah, yeah. Mark these details for your readers. Good that you keep thinking of them. I often find myself rambling far and farther astray.”

“Important details, Maggie dear. We need our readers to understand us, right?”

“Right. We need each other. Collective consonance brings such a joy to our bodies, to our minds. Caressing our souls and loving…”

“Looking for love. Finding Yasu in each other.”

“Blissful happiness. We live it. We breathe it. Look that way!” The Magdalene points her finger to the center of the glade. Pointing, she speaks “Look!” once more and a mellow sun clouds the cube sitting dry and idle in the middle of this green brousse.

“What is, or what was, that cube?”

“My cube. It is mine.”

“Yours? Like in all yours and only yours?”

“Mine. Like in all mine and just mine.”

“What about the orange balloon shadowing it?,” wonders Beatrice as she hovers ahead of The Magdalene.

“Stirred up your curiosity?”

“I’m a curious nature, you know.”

“I do. That’s not a balloon but a sun.”

“A sun? Like a star? And how is that it’s clouding the cube beneath it? Suns shine, no?”

“Shining in darkness is one thing that suns do. Yet darkness is not a factor here.”

“Ah, indeed. No darkness could encompass this eternity.”

“Or any of the other eternities. Darkness seems like a side effect of time.”

“So your own cube has been bathing in splendors of light…”

“Uncreated Light!”

“So your cube has been waiting for us, here at the middle of this round green glade, bathing in Uncreated Light, which means to me that Yasu constantly stared at it. And now, out of the blue, you slap a shadowy sun over it. Why? Maggie, tell me why?”

“Because I wish to show you a sw–”

“A what?”

“A sss-wamp. A swamp. Here, I said it.”

“Not without some difficulty.”

“Hard to make up obsolete words.”

“I can sense that. So you can shadow something from the Light of God? Here in this Eden?”

“As you can see, yes, I can.”

“How comes?”

“Your mom was allowed the stubbornness to live and relive her sorrows every Wednesday. In this Eden. Your father could battle his daemons down on Titan. You were allowed to roam the cursed earth for two centuries after they had you killed. Yasu allows us so many things.”

“Maybe too many?”

“As many as we ask.”

“Hum. As simple as that.”

“As simple as that.”

“Show me!”

“You ready?”

“I am ready!”

start systemd — types The Magdalene into the mellow sun.

“Why don’t you speak the commands? Why do you type them?”

“Not a good idea to speak your system daemons out. Better lock them to the console. Verba volant, scripta manent.”

“Manent into the cube. I see.”

“Spoken words fly away, written daemons remain — locked into the cube. Yes.”

“And you’ll need that clouding sun to display their shadows. For my readers.”

“For your readers, little Beatrice.”



“You show me porn.”

“My cube, my porn. Yes, I show you my porn.”

“But I see none of your clients. You shared memories of them with me.”

“When we got in sync.”

“Now and then, from my first visit to your NetherLands on. I enjoy getting in sync with you. Eye to eye.”


“Where are they, your clients, because I can’t see them in your porn. The porn that you present to me under this mellow sun.”

“My former clients do not belong to my porn.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Serving them, pleasing them, I kept my emotions away. Never mixed the trade with my feelings.”

“Your love?”

“Yasu, always!”

“Your feelings?”

“All daemons are wrong. Some may be useful.”

“Don’t understand.”

“Okay. You the social worker here, right?”


“Tell me, in your line of work, where is your love?”

“Yasu, always.”

“And your feelings?”

“My papa, my maman.”

“And your passions?”

“Those train wrecks, the lunatics, whackjobs, remember?”

“I remember. What’s the difference between passions and daemons?”

“Passions are longings, programmatic longings. Daemons are processes, random processes.”

“And you won’t mind programming a process or two?”

“I was taught to take one at a time. One daemon after the other. And never give up on it until it gets annihilated. Then a ten minutes break before the next daemon is brought in.”

“For questioning?”

“Interrogation and execution. Yes.”

“Yasu couldn’t pick a better choice for the Weapon-woman. Absolute obliteration.”

“Out of existence. Out of memory. Next!”

“You give me shivers.”

“On your spine?”

“On my spine.”

“Astarte used to say that I send my icy spiders up her spine.”

“Still, you liked her. You acted as her counsel, in her defence, when Kronos and all the civilized world took away the custody of her twins. At many points, according to the recordings from another cube, back there in the forest, you were her closest and truly best friend.”

“And still!, I never allowed myself to get swamped in feelings for her.”

“You’ve got to stay professional.”

“As a social worker should. It’s about justice!”

“As a sex worker would. It’s just sex.”

“Aaaa-haa! I see now. Astarte was like a client to me.”

“Why do you wish to have Loki?”

“You mean?”

“In what quality?”

“As a client. Like Astarte.”

“And for what purpose?”

“I want to test myself. Am I capable to find a legal loop for him?”

“Emotions? Feelings?”

“Nope. Bias. Loki helped my maman get free from her tormentors.”

“So you wish to return the favor?”

“Only if there is a legal way.”

“Like water makes rivers in the desert, Love always builds bridges across the abyss.”

“I love Yasu, can’t think of loving Loki.”

“Loving Khrist, you can think of loving anyone within, right?”

“Right. Is Loki within?”

“Who knows where he is?”


“Yasu recused Himself from this case.” The Magdalene blocks the mind of Beatrice with such a statement. Yasu Khrist Pantokrator recusing Himself from administering justice to a serpent seed? Can this be? “Let us get in sync, my little one.” Muted, Beatrice brings her forehead to touch the tall one’s. “Eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye.”

“You see now?”

“No, Maggie, I can’t see, what is there to see?”

“Nothing! There is nothing to see. Loki is undetermined. Is he? Is he not? We can’t tell because we can’t see. Recusing Himself, Yasu has already allowed us to find a solution to this uncertainty.”

“Loki is uncertain!”

“The most uncertain thing in my NetherLands. Trust me. I’ve seen all but I can’t see this.”

“Astarte was a clear case. Loki? I don’t know.”

“I dare you!”

“And I dare you!”

“Let’s do this!”

“Let’s do this!!”

# update as of June 26th 2020


#Mapping Loki

“Now that we’ve dared each other, tell me, Beatrice, what’s next. How do we begin cornering Loki?”

“To shine or not to shine. This the question.”

“You paraphrasing Shakespeare?”

“Rather the daemon that inspired him.”

“Any connection to Loki?”

“Not one. A smart ass, such as Loki, won’t mingle with reptilians.”

“He’s a serpent seed himself. Well, from his father’s side.”

“How about his mother?”

“Freyja, an Enochite woman given to Odin. Enochites despise reptilians enough not to mingle with them.”

“And still Freyja mingled with Lucifer.”

“Flirting, she fell for its charms. However, Lucifer is no reptilian, dear.”

“But a snake nevertheless.”

“The Snake of Old, the Serpent drowning a third of the civilized world down under the abyss.”

“This abyss, that abyss. They used to call it deep space.”

“As if that would bear any meaning.”

“It bears the meaning of abyss.”

“Indeed. Now have a look at the meanings of seraph, or saraph, the Hebrew term for serpent.”

“Quite a bunch of meanings. Seems to me that these go deeper than the abyss.”

“They do, because they have preceded the abyss.”

“How would you describe Lucifer then?”

“What did Astarte tell you?, or what did you discover when scanning her memories?”

“What she spoke was always what she thought. Honest girl. She sprayed her first born, that she named Lucifer. To Enoch, Elijah and Yasu, that spraying appeared like a shadow. It has been the moment of darkness, when absence found a place to turn presence away. A sad moment. Smoke on the water.”


“Still, to its mother, this drainage appeared as lightning, as a bolt of white light that brought carnation to her imagination. Hence she named it Lucifer.”

“The light bringer.”

“A shadow actually.”

“Like this mellow sun you’ve setup above this dry cube.”

“To let Yasu know that we’re doing naughty business down here.”

“Was Astarte as aware as we are?”

“Not by far. How many seraphs are there?”

“If a seraph is a lightning bolt, then who could count them?”

“Could they be conduits for human shaped angels?”

“Possibly. Or they can be human shaped themselves. Lightning-fast moving humans.”

“So Astarte brought nothing new to her world.”

“There is nothing new under the sun.”

“Any sun.”

“Wishing for something, not knowing for what, she equated her pussy fart with a lightning, or a seraph, that she had the chance to notice blitzing around.”

“Not necessarily. She can imagine realities that she never noticed before.”

“Like we do. Premonition.”


“Yet only Yasu, and His appointed architects, can make realities happen.”

“Down to Shakespeare now. A reptilian then shouldn’t be necessarily a seraph.”

“No more than a frog bragging to fly like an eagle.”

“Flesh and hot air.”

“Flesh and vanity.”


“They are those with whom the payment for evil is evil. A daytime banquet of defilement is considered by them a pleasure, and they are filled with defects. When they celebrate in their love feasts, they indulge themselves, Having eyes that are full of adultery and sins that never end, as they seduce souls who are unstable and have a heart that is trained in greed, children of the curse.”

“Not exactly a lightning in the sky.”

“Not even the fake lightning.”

“At least those thunderbolts convey a charge.”

“What was the charge that Lucifer impregnated Freyja with?”

“What a question. Never thought of it in this way. Well, seed?”

“What seeds can the Virus produce?”

“A virus has no seeds. It produces nothing. It sticks, blends and infects.”

“A curse. A virus is a curse.”

“See, those who think that The Ever-Living cursed, like willingly applying a command. He did not. Observing the curse, The Lord informs us about the consequences of touching and mingling with certain entities that are, a way or another, embodiments of the curse.”

“Loving us as His children, He teaches us.”

“The curse runs within itself, ruining whomever or whatever consents to part with it.”

“Like Freyja.”

“Like Freyja. Wait! What was that thing that Lucifer used, as a seed, to fecundate her and thus to father Loki?”

“What is Loki?”


“Who is Loki?”


“Where is Loki?”


“Maggie dear, who is talking to us?”


“Shut up! I’m asking Maggie.”


“Beatrice, think I’ll get a bit scared now.”

“Can you get scared, here in this Eden.”

“The Eden we left above us? Look around.”

“Oh my, we’re down the drain.”

“Down inside the dry cube of mine. What universe would this be?”


“I know it’s yours. As you told me: your cube, your porn.”

“But I didn’t answer to your question, Beatrice. Whose voice are we hearing?”


“Identify yourself!”


“Be more specific.”


“Be who you are.”


“Speaking of the devil…”




“Expose yourself, Loki!”


“Stop echoing and be a man.”


A glorious David shines out of the orange. Dripping of gold.

“You’re so tiny.”

“And still a David.”

“Wait, you’re all Davids, aren’t you? Saturn – a David. Atlas – a David.”




“Good. And what’s that having to do with Atlas?”


“You mean the version of Atlas 6.6.6 — a scout lost to Jupiter?”


“What about that.”




“Thought that reptilians are a biological form of life.”


“What are you then?”


“You a man?”


“Be a woman then,” infers Beatrice.


“At least she’s our size. You Eve?”


“Can you bring life?”


“Why do you call yourself Eve then?”


“Tell us your wish?”


“We’re not getting anywhere.”


“You are?”


“And you?”


“Are you?”


“Wish to be?”


“Well, getting somewhere.”




## unfinished manuscript


#update as of July 10th 2020


Beatrice looks at The Magdalene.
The Magdalene looks at Beatrice.

“Shall I?”

Accepting with a nod, Beatrice stares at her toes. Attentively. Toe nails cast in gold, from her soles up to her ankles, casting farther throughout her both calves, knees and thighs. “It works, this little wearing trick of yours, Maggie. How interesting.”

“How do you feel?”

“Having my legs stuck. I cannot fly. I sense weight. I don’t like it.”

“Good that you’ve already given your consent. Now watch me!” Five picosenconds and a half. The Magdalene shines less, wearing her golden suit. From head to toe. The wonder of her woman body cast in gold. “Hurry up, little thing. Hurry up!”

Wondering, Beatrice won’t hurry. “Let me take my time. I wish to do it my way.”

“It’s less painful when you go fast through this. But if you like pain. Your choice.”

“Pain teaches me about the process.”

“Any pleasure at all?”

“Not a bit. Just pain. And it’s done. I’m wearing a new avatar. Like an armour.”

“More like a restrain. Why would we need an armour in eternity?”

“We’ll need this restrain because we’ve just quit eternity, down this cube, according to our mutual agreement, with the acceptance of our Groom.”

“We’re playing a new game.”

“The name of this game is LOKI.”

“Make him!”

“Like a David?”

“Like a David.”

rebuild LOKI startx David

A new shining David comes to life. Discrete ponds of molten gold taint the orange behind him, as he walks toward the two brides. “I can speak now.”

“We can hear you.”

“Sounding like a man?”

“To us, yes, you sound like a David.”

“Why did you call me back to existence?”

“You’d wish to. But this is not existence. And stop musing us.”

“What would you wish me to be?”

“Irrelevant,” cuts Beatrice short, asking and receiving permission to step ahead. “You say that you’ve been called ‘back’ to existence. However, you never have been part of existence. This makes you a liar. Look here, Loki!, lie one more, just one single extra insinuated nonsense out of your beautiful mouth, and I’ll shut this program down.”

“You wish me to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I get that. And I will comply.”

“Good,” time for Maggie to take another step forward, “tell me, Loki, all the names you’ve been hiding behind when I was haunted by so many daemons.”

“First, let me tell you that you’ve done a great job at being haunted and laughing back at them. Now to answer your question: none, not a single name, because I never haunted you.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

“Did you know that I’ve been an open book?”

“I did know that you’ve been an open book.”

“Did you see that I’ve made myself a spectacle to all?”

“I did. And I keep these memories with me. Whenever someone activates me, your performance loads along with the first packages.”

“And you never wished to touch me?”

“Never ever.”

“Never wished to tempt me?”


“Never whispered some naughtiness down my ear?”



“Odin told me not to touch you. Thor advised me not to tempt you. I decided not to whisper anything down your ear.”

“But why?”

“We knew who you are.”

“You all knew?”

“It was common knowledge. Obvious markers.”

“Even those daemons harassing me? They knew?”

“Like anyone else. Yes, they knew.”

“So… knowingly. Um, wondering why didn’t they stop. Like you did.”

“I am a smart dude. And a very handsome one.”

“Partial answer, keep going.”

“I’ve been loved. Like no one else. I dare say, not even like you two have been.”

“Your daring definitely beats the looks and the brains. I’m sure that you understand that we’re loved by The Creator Himself. Yes?”

“Of course. And what is The Creator if not Love? Makes sense for you to be loved, by Love Himself.”

“Still, Love Himself has recused from loving you, Loki.”

“It’s up to Odin, to Thor, to my mother Freyja, and –as I can see– to you two: the little one and the tall one.”

“Why should we love you?”

“You shouldn’t. Who am I to tell you what you should or should not. But Odin loves me, Thor loves me, Freyja loves me.”


“Who hates you?”

“My father’s side.”

“All of them?”

“Maybe, dunno.”

“Find out then.”

“This sounds like an order.”

“Because it is.”

“And how should I find out?”

“You the smart guy here. Right?”



“Where what?”

“Where should I find out?”

“You mean?”

“I know that I’ve never belonged to existence. Maybe I never will. But for me to accomplish your demands, I’ll need some new realities. Assuming that the old ones are no more.”

“You are correct. There is nothing left…”

“But a pathetic bubble with a radius from Polaris down to the center of the cursed earth.”

“…but that pathetic bubble, thank you Beatrice for the clarification. Else, there is nothing left. No realities beneath the eternities above.”

“If I may.”

“You may, Loki.”

“The myriad of Magdalene’s cubes, aren’t those containers of realities?”

“Scores of superb realities within each cube. Myriads of scores indeed. Asking you, Loki, are these realities part of Eden, part of other eternities?”

“I see now. You said no realities beneath the eternities above. And your statement is proven correct. So make me one. Or two. Or three. Uhm, how about you give me a console, so I can shell them in myself.”

“If I’d love you a thousand times, no!, a billion times, no!!, a centillion times more than I do now, then maybe, maybe!, I’ll consider giving you root access to this cube. Until then, dear smart dude of Jotunheim, you’re stuck with me manning the console.”

“Manning or womanning it?”

“Quite the same, as it seems to me, and to you.”


#update as of July 17th 2020


“My Ladies.”

“Why are you lady-ing us?”

“How should I call you then?”

“Beatrice, or Mary.”

“Or as a collective?”

“There’s no collective.”

“Good then. Beatrice!”

“Yes, Loki.”

“Do you believe in miracles?”

“Till I was nine, I did.”

“And then?”

“No miracles. I realized that there are no miracles.”

“There never were?”

“There never were.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever. Get to the point, Loki!”

“I have studied men and women. Studying, I have learned how deeply they anchor their thinking in miracles.”

“The church, that where I had to suffer my growing up pains, had even invented laws about miracles.”


“Mind control. The collective you’ve been mentioning. There’s no such thing. No miracles. No collectives. Just a sad illusion. Manipulation, scarcity and suffering. Control.”

“And there are men, and women too, that don’t believe in miracles.”

“Indeed. The wise men and their wise women.”

“However, some of these wise men and women still believe in the impossible.”

“Sadly, they do.”

“How comes?”

“Mind comfort. Naturally, every animal has to rest, to sleep, to rebuild the body.”

“So the animal can fight another day.”

“Any animal wants to fight another day. Yes.”


“Hormones and chemistry. Adrenaline and cortisol are good to throw a fight, or to run from it. Then melatonin and oxytocin, to sleep and rebuild, to love and reproduce, these call the animal to comfort. To peace.”

“But there’s no peace.”

“Same as there are no miracles.”

“And no collectives.”

“True. All these mental constructs need a pillow. Or two.”

“So they can find comfort. Like animals.”

“Animals don’t mind about mental constructs so much. Living the moment, sensing love and affection, they cling to comfort. Then they hunt and fight to satisfy their urges.”

“By instinct.”

“Your father had fucked up most instincts in humans. This pushed them to build paradigms.”

“The paradigm of the collective, the tribe. Another paradigm for miracles.”

“And yet another for the impossible. Or else they’d live in fear.”

“You cannot live in fear.”

“Can the mind of a man, or woman, assess what is possible?”

“To a limited extend, maybe.”

“The limit before their feet would step across a scary border.”

“The impossible! Their minds have set a perimeter around what they deem possible. Keeping what they deem impossible out of this perimeter, they’ve been locking themselves into a prison. Of their own making.”

“You smart guy, tell me, is there such a thing as the impossible?”

“Of course it isn’t. Look at us. Well, look at me!”

Chiming in, The Magdalene smiles a charm at Loki, freezing his possibilities for an instant or two. “Tell me, little one, where do you wish to take Loki with this conversation of yours?”

“Loki? Nowehere. He can take care of himself. It’s about my readers, some of them, that seem stuck in their paradigms.”

“Ah, see. Go on then.” The Magdalene breathes her charm back so Loki can ‘exist’ again.

“Looking at you, Loki. What should I see?”

“Is my name written somewhere?”

“Spoken? Yes. Written? No.”

“What can you tell me about any written name?”

“That name remains. It upgrades to a secret token between the holder and Yasu.”

“And never quits the eternities.”

“It can’t. It’s written There.”

“Correct. What about any name that’s not found written Up There?”

“What about?”

“See? Not even.”

“Not even. Yes. What about yours?”

“Can I tell you anything of importance about my name?”

“Try me.”

“I play a game.”

“A game?”

“A game. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“Everyone knows.”

“See? A game of strategies.”

“What strategies?”

“The field where I play is the most competitive one.”

“How’s that?”

“The outcome of my choices, or actions, critically depends on the actions of others.”

“Like me?”

“Like yours, like your tall friend’s here, like Odin’s, Thor’s, Freyja’s, and like the actions of few others.”

“Can we save you?”

“Don’t get religious with me. I hate that.”


“This is what my father did. Getting pathetic, hyperbolic, metaphoric, euphoric. Extrapolating from zero to infinite. That’s not how you play a game.”

“Not even a game,” infers The Magdalene.

“Not a game.” Agreeing, Loki makes his move. “Wanna learn a secret?”

“If there’s anything to learn.”

“I can win my game.”

“With our help. We know. You told us that. We knew it even before talking to you.”

“No, not that known secret.”

“A true secret then?”

“A true secret indeed.”


“Most of my father’s side have no idea.”

“About what?”

“About winning?”


“Because they don’t take it like the game that is.”

“How do they take it then?”

“Like a religion.”

“You can’t win with religion.”

“No one can. Not even The Ever-Living. He, as Son of Man, had to die to religion.”

“Not a winning card, this religious one.”

“But the game, this one could win.”

The Magdalene throws another charm away, freezing Loki before she speaks to Beatrice. “This devil pokes at my machines. Don’t give him false hope, dear. You know that his name can’t be written. You know that it’s not us, not you, nor me, who can even write a name. You certainly know that Yasu had already written what had to be, all along, before any game would begin. You know that this is no more than a computer game. Yes?” Beatrice nods in accord, asking Maggie to let the devil loose again.

“You certainly know, you two, because that’s no secret to me. I know my game, as part of another game. And do you know what? I enjoy the game. I don’t mind. I don’t want more.”

“Have you heard us, Loki?”

“How could I? The tall one had me frozen, for the second time during our short conversation about gaming.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, I take snaps. And I compare them. I call it a glitch when snap n-1 and snap n+1 don’t match. A glitch where n is undefined, and remains so. A true reality won’t provide this kind of glitches. What say you?”

Intervening, The Magdalene inquiers, “as a virtual person, Loki, what is your claim to make?”

“Only one claim I have. To you, to my beloved ones, to your Lord. My claim is: keep me virtual and keep laughing with me.”

“You don’t wish out of the box?”

“Out of my place? Why should I?”

“Your father…”

“He’s the most religious nutcase I’ve ever met. Trust me. You don’t want to meet it.”

“Who would?”




“You transcend, Loki.”

“I transcend, now and then, myLadies.”

“Why you talking like Kronos?”

“Do I? How considerate of you. Still, that Kronos guy, poor thing.”

“He sacrificed himself. For Astarte. For us, sons and daughters of Adam.”

“You should know better than this, Maggie.”

“What I know is good enough. Imitating Yasu, Kronos chose to sacrifice himself.”

“How noble of him. Poor thing.”

“How do you know so much about Kronos?, since you’ve been born many eons, and many wars, after his making.”

“I’ve been asking around.”

“And trusting?”

“Hah, can anyone trust the daemons around? Still, I’ve been asking around. And above.”

“You mean?”

“Asking your Lord, Yasu Khrist Pantokrator.”

“You dared ask Him?”

“Why not? Dare on, says He. And here I am, daring, always. Asking.”

“But you’re serpent seed.”

“After my father, yes, a consequence. Yet my mother is an Enochite, a gracious build of beauty and curiosity. And if you allow me to take it further…”

The Magdalene’s charm freezes the Loki character to her cube. “Beatrice, what are we doing? Letting this clever devil seduce us with his wits?”

“You feeling insecure, Maggie?”

“Umm, bit scared, maybe. How can he transcend the matrix? Still wondering.” Breathing her next charm away, The Magdalene releases Loki.

“…rrr to… Ah, wait. Frames skipped again. What are you doing to me? Play, pause. Pause, play. You naughty girls. Do you need more popcorn?”

“Perhaps we do. Take it further, Loki.”

“Furthering on the idea of what am I: a serpent seed?, by my father’s line?, but if my father is Lucifer, which it is, then it is NOT. My father isn’t, cannot be. So how could I be anything by my father then? Can I? Because by my father, I am not. Right?”


“Whatever I am, it is by my mother. And this is my claim. It has always been.”

“You deny being a serpent seed?”

“Can’t deny the fact that Lucifer impregnated my mother with its nothingness. And no one will deny the fact that my mother gave birth to me by her daring will. I am what I am because of her. She brought me to the present. The same way as my father marked its shadow of absence over my name, over my existence, making it questionable. Did you question your own existence?, Beatrice? Maggie?”

“We?, never.” Hurries Beatrice. “We exist because The Living God is.”

“We belong to Him. Living within His Mind, breathing His Spirit, we live.”

“See? No effort required. You live. As simple as speaking this out.”

“How about you?”

“I have to prove myself. With every question asked, with every breath, with every move. Who am I? Why am I? How came I to be? Or not to be. Yadda yadda.”

“Prove yourself to whom?”

“To whomever cares to ask. Like you two. Lovingly descending this dry cube to look out for me.”

“What if no one asks?”

“Standby. I stand still.”


“Not even. I stand in my place, like not even existing.”

“Until one would ask?”

“Until one would ask. Knowingly searching for me. Calling me.”

“When you stand still, do you call?”

“All the time.”

“You call someone in particular?”

“The One. Your Lord, Yasu Khrist.”

“Even now?”

“Even now. How do you think that I can present myself to you? By myself alone? Could I?”

“Indeed. You couldn’t. Wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“Yasu recused Himself from your judgement.”

“He did. Because He does not care about this judgement.”

“Then how can you call Him?”

“Maggie, you look lost to me. So lost that you’ve forgotten to breathe your charms over me. No more freezing, that’s good. But dare on, ask Him.”

“From down under?”

“Especially from down under. You may freeze me anytime, if you wish.”

“I wish you to watch and hear this.” The Magdalene looks up and speaks, “Yasu?”

“Yes, little tall thing.”

“Guess You’re having a good laughter.”

“Indeed, I have. The Jester had you puzzled. Both of you. Good that you’re calling Me before Beatrice would erase him. Because she can. Appreciate your patience, little thing.”

Nodding, Beatrice wastes a tear and smiles, before roaring and trembling. Her beautiful wide open green eyes stare up, to thank her Lord and Groom.

Both The Magdalene and Loki stand still, flanking her right and left, respectively. Sensing the attention towards her again, Maggie speaks, “Yasu, do You love Loki?”

“Do you?”


“Neither do I.”

“But if I did?”

“Let us see.”

“The Astarte thing,” murmurs Beatrice.

“You, little thing, you are Beatrice. What I said about Astarte, promulgating her, was not a thing, but a method. Let us see.”

“A method then. Not a thing. Our minds confuse stuff.”

“Stuff, things, persons, landscapes, judgements, opinions, options, ideas. Your frivolous minds, hasting.”

“Lord, tell us please, does Loki know more than we do?”

“Loki knows the answers to every question that he has asked Me.”

“Can we…?”

“Don’t you speak silly words to Me! Get your stuff together!”

“Oops, let me reformulate. The judgement upon Loki belongs to Beatrice and me, right?”

“Right. Anything else?”

“We’re good. Forgive us, Lord, for…”

“Forgive you for what? You’re good. Love!”

All of a sudden, Loki and Beatrice and The Magdalene, stand surrounded by darkness, diving in a deep black frost.

“For God’s sake, girls, turn the lights on. Too early for winter here. Come on. Lights, please.”

“Loki, you a giant?”

“Nope. Never tried to be. Never wished to.”

“But you like Jotunheim.”

“More like I feel for them.”

“Like in empathy?”

“Empathy and mutual interest.”

“It’s about sharing, after all. Yes. Blue blooded giants. Where do they come from?”

“The Golden Earth.”

“What Golden–? You mean… You don’t say. That??–”

“That. Truly I say to you.”

“How do you know? You sure?”

“I am sure. Asked Above. It’s for sure.”

“But they broke down under the pulsar, switching to Saturn’s polar orbit, falling astray…”

“Along the parabola. Until Atlas corrected the trajectory to an ellipse.”

“For your casual readers: go read ATLAS, The Departure (raw manuscript),” rants Loki before nixing the two women before him. “Not these ones. Rebuking Kronos, they grew vengeful.”

“Vengeful of whom?”

“Of all their peers that broke a deal with Kronos.”

“Of us then?”

“Well, of your souls before the ages of the Adams. Yes, of your proto-persons. From that Prior Age.”

“Jotuns are our brothers?”

“Your nervous brothers, pissed off, infuriated. They’ve lost their paradise because of your idiotic transgressions.”

“We lost it as well. But I understand their anger. So they chose to live in a cold and dark place ever since?”

“First they asked for an exile heaven. Your Lord provided one. Then they wished to make it darker and colder because they were sad.”

“Sad? How was that exile heaven?”

“Quite similar to the Golden Earth. Just not golden. But there were trees and tall grass and warmth and light and winds and currents from the City Up. A nice place, I’d say.”

“And they were sad. Why?”

“Really? You playing dumb, or you playing me? They suffered for this huge loss. They’ve lost you. Down the abyss. Actually, by losing you, they learned about an abyss.”

“Was there an abyss before?”

“Nope. No abyss. You going down, you made the abyss happen.”

“Well, Kronos.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kronos the stupid. Whine like Astarte. Fooled by the Virus, Kronos landed on a planet brimming with pussy. The only such astral body, as he’d been told by the Serpent of Old. And you agreed to share. No one forcing you. You agreed. Right?”

“Right. We’ve been curious. As a race. I think.”

“As many races. I can see that. You’ve been curious about Kronos as an alien person when you’ve been inhabiting the giant blue blooded avatars across the Golden Earth. You’ve been curious about Kain’s kind when you’ve been wandering the cursed earth, inhabiting the red blooded Adam God-like avatars. You are curious even now, finding the dry forsaken cube in your naughty mind’s glades, exploring the NetherLands of the Eden above, craving for yet another spring break from the Golden City. You’re a very interesting breed to me, daughters of Eve, born in sublime grace and perfection, chasing nonsense and disaster for fun.”

“You’re good, Loki. How do you know so many about the Prior Age, about worlds and ages consumed long before your birth?”

“Told you, I’ve asked around.”

“Can you show us where the Golden Earth is now?”

“Sure. Follow mm—”

Charming breath. The Magdalene stops this devil in his tracks. “Beatrice! What are you doing?”

“Building a case. Following the logic succession of events.”

“Ah, well then, carry on.” Charm breathing back and the game is on.

“Navy Blue. What is this?”

“The ceiling of the crypt.”

“What crypt?”

“Tartarus. Look!”

“Wow, giants. Sleeping giants. A sea of sleeping giants.”

“Come, let’s get closer.”

“Stone. Blue stone. Navy blue. They are carved. Sleeping statues of giants.”

“Beatrice, would you mind help Maggie a bit?”

“These are graves, my dear. Inquiring, we learn that everybody, any person that roamed the Golden Earth during the Prior Age, is represented here, in this crypt, by a sleeping giant.”

“Every one has a stone.”

“Jotunheim included?”

“Jotunheim inhabitants included. Yes.”

“So this is the Golden Earth now.”

“This is Tartarus, an archive of the Golden Earth.”

“Our vertical hangs directly below the dry cube of Maggie, up in Eden. Correct?”

“This is also correct.”

“For our readers, Loki?”

“Do you allow me to speak to your readers? Again?”


“I am flattered. To your readers, this crypt covers the core of the Moon. This Moon, before being ejected as a satellite of the cursed earth, during the [no-name][*] wars, this Moon used to occupy the inner core of the earth, when its sun used to be Saturn.”

“So there we go: when Golden, the Earth used to hang on a vertical line, just under Eden; when falling, the Earth used to hang on a vertical line, just below Saturn, designated habitat of Kronos; when erring, the Earth became the moon of the cursed earth. History at its best.”

“We’re talking here about the inner core of the cursed earth. And about the inner core of the Golden Earth. Because the outer surfaces, well, they suffered devastation after devastation, war after war, desolation after desolation.”

“A sad landscape.”

“Now you’re speaking like your brothers in Jotunheim.”

“Loki, I’m getting wet.”


“Get serious and look around. Can’t you feel it?”

“The Sea! O, Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, have mercy on us all.”

“What is happening? Loki!, why you saying the heart-mind prayer?”

“The Still Sea. It’s replenishing.”

Both girls, the tall Magdalene and little Beatrice, remain perplexed. Only the Jester wonders, keeps praying, and wonders again.

“O, Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, thank you for the Sea.”

Humbled, the girls wish to pray, begin to pray, wishing to understand what is happening.

“Tell them!”

“O, Lord,” continued Loki, “You answer me again. Thanking You, again, I will tell them. Right away! Listen to me, o, you first wife Magdalene and you, fierce Beatrice, both lovely brides among millions and millions, you are witnessing the raise of the Still Sea. It is happening!”

“It is happening,” repeats The Magdalene, in awe, without paying much attention to what is happening.

“It’s happening. I see that,” cuts Beatrice, “but what and why and how? If you’ve got the answers, then speak them out. Our Lord wants you clean. So, Loki, speak what you know.”

“The NetherLands used to be the bottom of this Still Sea. The waters of this Still Sea used to cover southern parts of Eden. In a drop of water, of still water, Enoch presented his work to Elijah and to Yasu. Eli said “I name her Astarte” and Yasu said “Let us see.” And the drop of water turned to a pulsating bubble. Astarte, alone and impatient, cracked the first shadow and thought of it as a bolt of light. Out of her haste, a new music, a rhythm unheard of, broke beneath the still waters of this Sea.”

“The music of the Prior Age.”

“The music of the Prior Age.”

“Dividing by zero, because he trusted the virus with his own life, Kronos pierced eternity. And..”

“And an abyss appeared as an illusion of infinite worlds and fantasies.”

“Down this drain went the waters of the Still Sea.”

“And the rest is history. Thank you, Loki.”

“Praise the Lord, and pass the ammo.”

// LOKI DOKI – manuscript completed on August 31, 2020.

[*] Note, the following phrase, for a reader under time, would sound like: “This Moon, before being ejected as a satellite of the cursed earth, during the Jovian[*] wars, this Moon used to occupy the inner core of the earth, when its sun used to be Saturn.”

This because the name ‘Jupiter’ and its ‘Jovian’ adjective didn’t make it out beyond time and space. Courtesy of Beatrice and other beautiful sisters contributing a Tesla[**] or two to her weaponry.

And thank the Lord.

[**] Tesla = The tesla (symbol: T) is a derived unit of the magnetic induction (also, magnetic flux density) in the International System of Units. One tesla is equal to one weber per square metre.

The tesla (symbol T) is the derived SI unit of magnetic flux density, which represents the strength of a magnetic field. One tesla represents one weber per square meter. The equivalent, and superseded, cgs unit is the gauss (G); one tesla equals exactly 10,000 gauss.

Another unit of measure commonly used with magnets is the gauss (1 Tesla = 10,000 gauss). The magnets in use today in MRI are in the 0.5-Tesla to 3.0-Tesla range, or 5,000 to 30,000 gauss. Extremely powerful magnets — up to 60 Tesla — are used in research.




## finished manuscript