Susan's Place Transgender Resources

When I was young, I enjoyed writing. My grandmother told me that when I was in the Fourth Grade I would write short stories and send them to her. I have no clue what stories she was talking about. Later, in high school, I got the creative itch and began writing again.

I have an old 6-ring notebook of stuff I wrote starting in 1971. They are handwritten notes and dated, being long before the first Personal Computers were available. I just found the old notebooks and began rereading what I wrote back then. Some poems were tributes to people I cared about and lost, some were story ideas that never got expanded beyond the poem.

It was a very dark time in my life and I was deeply involved in the occult. My best friend was a Black Magician and he taught me many things about the Black Arts. I showed his girlfriend one of my poems and she said she had seen it before. My best friend told her he had written it. I became more cautious about sharing my writings after that. A few years later, he was killed in a car accident and I moved on in my spiritual quest and even got baptized in the Christian Church.

A series of "interesting" events happened to me that gave me an idea for a novel. Over the years, I have written it many, many times updating it with new information. I think that now it might even make a trilogy. I had sought out a ghostwriter a few times, but the ones I interviewed had little experience with science fiction and just couldn't understand something as simple as time travel.

While I was browsing this site, I found the Devlynisms which I thoroughly enjoy. Then I thought, why not share some of my own works? So here we are with a new thread.

I hope you enjoy it.

In 1972, I was to be initiated into the Black Arts, which involved a ritualistic ceremony. I won't give the details, but part of the ceremony involved drinking a hallucinogenic potion from a large chalice. I was told that whatever I dreamed that night would come true. After a long night of "celebration", I went home and crept into my house just before sunrise trying not to wake my parents. Yeah, I never got to sleep. The hallucinogen kept me awake all night.

One of my favorite artists is John Pitre, and I had a poster on my wall of his painting "Conflict". I couldn't stop looking at it. I kept noticing more and more details. My dad came into my room and was looking at it too. He asked me what I saw. I said that it is the aftermath of the battle between good and evil. Evil has won, and Man is responsible. I think those clouds might be smoke from the battle. My dad said, "Or maybe pollution and those are not mountains, they are ruined cities." That blew my mind. So I wrote "Sorceror's Dream" about the dream I never had.

(https://i.imgur.com/E0nEHSu.jpeg)

Sorcerors's Dream
by Lori Dee

I had a dream, quite disturbing
A bit rewarding, but mostly perturbing
Of a man in long white robes
Girdled in silver
And in gold
Who claimed to be from... some far-off place.

I asked this man a simple question
But His reply gave no mention
Of the why I had put to Him.
Instead, He talked of "ways of sin"
And future events that were sure to come.

He said:
"There will be three creatures left on Earth
All the rest having died at birth
And of these creatures, Man will be king
The other two be of the wing
And vulnerable to his brain.

A Falcon Black and a Falcon White
Shall take to the air and far from sight
Shall soar above the radiation
Of a nuclear invasion
To settle their disputes.

And there shall follow a bitter war
And Man shall hear the thundering roar
Between Fowl of Good and Fowl of Evil
Deciding the fate of a thousand people
For Judgment has arrived.

The Bird of Black returns unharmed
And faces Man, who is unarmed
For he and Evil are all that exist
And filtering down through cloud and mist
A trumpet sounds!

The Earth becomes hot and smoulders in wrath
And Man, who began this bloodbath
Shall see the flames of eternal Hell
Shall hear the tolling of a distant bell
For Judgment has arrived."
...
Then the man in long white robes
Girdled in silver
And in gold
Rose, and with an outstretched hand
Returned silently to the Promised Land
For Judgment has arrived.

(11 July 1974)

On May 1st of 1971, my youngest brother died in an accident exactly 30 days before his 8th birthday. That year I started high school and took a Creative Writing class. We were learning about haiku and had to write one of our own. I wanted to write something in tribute to my little brother but found that I couldn't fit what I wanted to say into the strict rules of haiku. I submitted something else that I can't remember, then played with what I wanted to say.

In Memoriam
by Lori Dee

Gravestones
Chipped and broken
With lost heroes resting cold
Fighting Nature with memories.

(1971)

@Lori Dee
Dear Lori:
I am really enjoying your new "Prose and Poems" topic and thread.

Writing from your heart not only is beneficial for yourself but it also emotionally
touches your readers and followers...   

I will continue to eagerly follow your writings...
HUGS,
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]

I have always been a treasure hunter. I enjoy researching stories of lost treasure. While living in Florida there was a news article about scuba divers that discovered treasure just off the coast.

The Riddle of Riches
by Lori Dee

Among stories of old
In the Lands of Gold
And legends of the deep blue sea
Is a story not told
By men so bold
Nor blind men who cannot read.

As the story goes
And this I know
(Because it once happened to me)
That mountains of gold
And very rare stones
Are yours if you only take heed.

Hidden somewhere
In neither land nor air
Is the magical Kikala Key
And if you dare
To solemnly swear
You may find where it might be.

Pick some flowers
In the Land of Flowers
Near the borders of the deep blue sea
Swear allegiance to the blind
And you shall find
The beautiful Kikala Key.

For someplace in the ground
There is to be found
Riches like no man has seen
You need only time
To claim your find
But the secret is the magical key.

Now do as I've told
Wait not til you are old
For time is what you need
And make not a sound while pacing the ground
And drop not nary a seed.

Some men with flowers
In the Land of Flowers
Near the borders of the deep blue sea
Swore allegiance to the blind
Yet they could not find
The legendary Kikala Key.

No treasures to hold
No secrets unfold
For they did not listen to me
And swear as they did
Had wagered their bid
And now they cannot see!

(1979)

Quote from: Northern Star Girl on August 26, 2024, 10:18:43 AM@Lori Dee
Dear Lori:
I am really enjoying your new "Prose and Poems" topic and thread.

Writing from your heart not only is beneficial for you but it emotionally
touches your readers and followers...   

I will continue to eagerly follow your writings...
HUGS,
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]

Thanks, Danielle!

I do enjoy it. I just don't have the time to dedicate to it... yet. So I will post some old stuff and maybe work on some of my newer projects.

Humm.  I'm going to need to think about some of these some more.  I also "write" when the Muse is upon me, several page letters for me, with several letters on any subject - but the Muse often goes quiet for a period of time after a several day burst of creativity, leaving much to still be said.  I find I have several subjects I need to go back to (with an audience that is slightly impatient), but my Muse cannot be hurried.  And good writing requires time which is always short.

1971.  An interesting year.  I was back from (a fairly good to me) war, having returned to college and becoming quite involved in the anti-war movement. Life became very busy for a few years and adrenaline ran high, taking several more years for the "excitement desire" to dissipate - or at least calm.  The desire may never leave.

  So have a good evening, Lori.  You are appreciated and loved.

      Caroline

 

So What?
by Lori Dee

Life is for those who dare to live it.
Love is for those who dare to give it.
Beauties are for those who dare behold them.
Secrets are for those who dare be told them.
A poem has one author,
A song, one tune.
And twelve midday is still twelve noon.

Truth
by Lori Dee

That which is felt might never be spoken.
That which is spoken might never be heard.
That which is heard might never be known.
That which is known might never be fact.
That which is fact might never be proven.
That which is proven might never be true.

(1975)

You have a gift. Omg you have a gift. Please, please keep posting here, Lori.

"So What?" is amazing. Might be one of my favourite poems. And yeah, that picture... ruined cities was the first thing I thought of, too. But then I am a huge fan of post apocalyptica so I might be biased.

One more from my "Dark Days" then I will put it away.

I have always been a seeker of spiritual truths. It was my best friend who introduced me to the Black Arts. I had hoped that I might find answers that I was unable to obtain through the Church. It didn't take long for me to realize that that group was not interested in spiritual matters, except as a tool for their performances. (My apologies, but I won't explain that any further). When I announced my leaving the Black Arts Society, I was told in no uncertain terms that leaving was not an option. I was told that the only way out was through the cemetery and I was given nine days to reconsider.

I figured it was a bluff and told them my mind was made up. They could not give me what I sought, so I would look elsewhere. The High Priest whispered in my ear, "I may not have the power to give you what you want, but we do have the power to take everything from you." That frightened me, but I figured it was another bluff.

Four days later, my best friend who introduced me to the group, was killed by a drunk driver in a car accident. His girlfriend and I became pretty close after that and we often spoke of the strangeness of the accident. My friend wore thick prescription glasses because he had no distance vision. He didn't drive and had no license. Why was he driving and where was he going?

That began to scare me. As the ninth day approached, I began to wonder what would happen to me. I stayed locked in my bedroom most of the time. I began to wonder if my very soul was at risk because of my involvement with the group. What if they gave me some kind of disease that would kill me in a matter of days? Staying in my room won't save me. What if... what if... what if...  I couldn't sleep.

On the eighth day, I wrote two poems. Magician's Fate (part 1) and For My Epitaph. On the ninth day, I wrote Magician's Fate (Part 2).

Magician's Fate
(Part 1 - The Visitor)
by Lori Dee

The Gears of Time are slowing down
- A knock upon my door.
My hair is gray, my joints are stiff
- I cannot see the floor.

My visitor is one called "Death"
- I've put him off too long.
Today he comes to claim his due
- I sing no happy song.

He comes into my chamber as
An icy wind or breeze.
He says I'm cured, to my surprise
- I thought it time to leave.

The sulphur lingers on behind
The one I try to cheat.
And yet I knew the day would come
When I would meet defeat.

I know not why he passed me by
For sure, he didn't tell.
Perhaps it's 'cause tomorrow night
He will take my soul to Hell.

-----

For My Epitaph
by Lori Dee

Oh to be the one who sings
Those gloomy songs of death
The joy, having lived so long
Is mourned a short, short time
And as the mighty songbird breathes
Its last eternal breath
So shall I cease to live a life
That was never truly mine.

-----

Magician's Fate
(Part 2 - Tomorrow Night)
by Lori Dee

The clock is humming away the hour
A storm caresses the night.
Again this sadness fills my soul
Why must I leave this life?

Plenty of food for all to eat,
Plenty of air to breathe
So why must I be the one to die?
Why must I cease to be?

What lies beyond those horrible doors?
Oh, what will be my fate?
My chamber fills with fog and mist,
I see an open gate.

The King of Hel is waiting for me
But I've led a life that's good.
The Cycle of Life is now complete
And I will die, as I should.

The Seat of Judgment stands before me,
Oh, what will be my fate?
The chamber is filled with fog and mist,
I see an open gate.

-----

Untitled
by Lori Dee

The prophecy of dreams
Is reality, it seems
Whenever I close my eyes
I seem to realize
The reality of dreams
Is prophecy, it seems.

-----

As I was going through my old notebook, I found something I wrote decades ago. It is not dated, but from where it is placed between dated notes, it was decades before my transition. It amazes me how my subconscious was sending me messages and I didn't even notice. Here is the note:

Lori

The hidden beauty within myself
The passive opposition
The secret saved
For private days
For now, you're on a shelf.

-----

Just... wow. I don't have really any other words.

Thank you.

Also, I love your new avatar. You have very warm, kind eyes, Lori.

Beyond the Flames is a story that I have written many times. I have added to it over the years but never finished it. I know the story, beginning, middle, and end. I have used several different software programs to help me with my weak areas:

I suck at dialogue and using dialogue to further the story.
I suck at "character development" and making characters interesting with romantic interests and internal struggles.

I have tried to adapt the story to fit that mold and it doesn't work. I think the reason is that the information was revealed to me through a series of interviews where I was not allowed to quote him directly, among other rules. That may seem confusing, but it may make more sense once I tell you what happened.

In this thread, I will put Beyond the Flames at the top of each post that is a part of this story. That way readers can skip comments if they choose and move right to the next post. It also helps incorporate all of the bits under the same copyright as explained in the pinned post at the top of this forum topic.

Next is a disclaimer, and I will explain why this is necessary.

Everything in this story is fiction.

The reason I have to specify this is because the story is based on actual events. It really happened and I can prove it. The problem I have encountered in the past when I have shared this story is the "Men in Black" type suits start visiting my relatives to verify my claims. I have instructed my relatives to deny everything and just say that I made it all up.

The physical evidence that was given to me to prove the story is true is hidden away in a place more secure than where I stash my gold. He also made me promise that I would not tell his story until 20 years after he died. He had a very specific reason for this that I will get to later. He passed away in 1996 and I have been trying to figure out how to tell his story ever since.

So what is this story all about?

When I was much younger, I met a time traveler. That was not his occupation. He did it once in his life, so that makes him one. His story is so amazing, the things he experienced and the things he told me were... unbelievable. As he told me his story, he gave me certain items that verify his story. I have no doubts that he told me the truth, about what happened and what will happen. So far, everything has happened as he said it would, even now almost 30 years since he died.

Where to begin?

How I met Ronald Olson.

Beyond the Flames

When I was a sophomore in high school, my grandmother lived with us. She was fascinated with all things British. She was watching Queen Elizabeth's 25th Anniversary (1972?) on TV.

She pointed to the screen and said, "Look! Your cousin is on TV."

I saw some kind of parade so I looked closely at all the faces in the audience and didn't recognize anyone.

"Where?"

"Right there, Prince Charles. He is a distant cousin of yours."

I asked her to explain it and she tried to tell me about so-and-so being married to someone who was something to someone... I couldn't follow any of it.

But I thought, "Wouldn't that be cool if true? Hey Cuz, can you loan me a couple million pounds?"

I did a little bit of research and found that all of the Royal Family have their family histories well-documented. Their genealogies are public records and easy to locate. All I had to do was document my family history and find the connecting link.

I researched my family tree over the next forty years and can document over 4,000 people as relatives dating back to the late 1700s. All of our family hails from England. The Royal Family are actually German and moved to England around 1915 courtesy of King George. So no link to the Royals. Sorry, Grandma.

When I was researching my family, I did a series of interviews with my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, etc. The idea is that you get their stories down before they are no longer available. Over the years I amassed boxes of photos, vital records, magazine and newspaper articles, wedding notices, death certificates, and maps. I became the unofficial family historian and archivist. Family members would ship me boxes of all kinds of mementos to add to the collection, and every piece added a little more information to the family story.

In the 1930s, my grandparents lived outside of Vaughn, New Mexico. It is a small cattle ranch community near the middle of the state.

(https://i.imgur.com/wlgqYDk.jpeg)

My grandfather learned meat cutting from his father. He was a butcher all his life. He opened a small market with dry goods and custom-cut meats.

(https://i.imgur.com/ic2zoCS.jpeg)

(https://i.imgur.com/o5UCHob.jpeg)

My grandfather's favorite holiday was Independence Day. Each year he would drive down into Mexico and fill the truck with fireworks. My grandmother would stay home and mind the store, so my grandfather would take one of the kids with him. But he had a rule, they couldn't ride along until they were ten years old. There was only enough room for one passenger up front, so the kids took turns.

My dad turned 10 in January of 1947. He was so excited that it was his turn to make the trip. He said he didn't sleep for three nights and had his bag packed a week prior. They left in the middle of June. Neither of them remembers the exact date, but it was in June.

The trip was uneventful and my dad slept most of the way to the Mexican border. That sort of annoyed my grandfather. The point of having a copilot was for someone to talk to and help keep him awake while he drove.

They got a motel room for the night and the next day went to pick up the fireworks. The supplier had just filled a big order for another client, so didn't have as much on hand as in previous years. After loading the truck with fireworks, my grandfather took my dad on a tour of the town, ate a lot of authentic Mexican food, did some shopping for souvenirs, and went back to the motel for the night.

The next morning, they packed their bags and got an early start heading for home. The truck overheated a couple of times on the way back, so they took frequent "potty stops" to let the engine cool down. They were well into New Mexico and the sky got dark. A storm had blown in from the West and the sky kept flickering with lightning. Then the rain hit.

The rain was coming down so hard that the headlights barely lit up the road ahead. The wind was blowing hard, but my grandfather pushed on. He said he knew the storm wouldn't last. He said storms like that "blow themselves out." And just like that, the rain eased up.

My dad remembers looking at the side of the road to make sure his driver stayed on the road.

He yelled, "Stop! There's a man there."

All they could see was a pair of boots near the edge of the road. Someone was lying in the ditch. Grandpa stopped the truck, and they raced over to help. The man was injured and said he couldn't walk any further. They helped him into the truck and got him comfortable.

He was wearing gray-green coveralls that had some strange symbols on the sleeves. He was carrying a satchel that looked like it was made of canvas. He was injured on his side but the bleeding had slowed down. He was still soaked in blood, so his injury was no small matter. Grandpa got back on the road, heading for the nearest doctor.

Grandpa was worried the man might pass out, so he kept asking him questions.

"What is your name?"
Ronald Olson.

"Were you hit by a car?"
No, I was in a crash.

"We didn't see any vehicles. What happened?"
I'm a pilot. I crashed.

His voice faded out and he fell unconscious.

My grandfather knew the man was in shock, and stopped at the veterinarian's house. He didn't want to risk trying to make it to a hospital. The vet took a quick look at him and they carried the man inside. The vet told my grandpa that he would treat him and keep him stable until an ambulance arrived.  With nothing more they could do my grandfather and my dad got back in the truck and went home.

The next morning after breakfast, Grandpa told the boys to unload the truck and put the fireworks in the metal shed out back. The girls joined to help, not wanting to miss out on being first to see Grandpa's haul of this year's fireworks.  One of the boys found the satchel and brought it to my grandfather, asking what to do with it. Grandpa didn't recognize it, but my dad chimed in that it belonged to the man they picked up the night before. Grandpa took it and put it in his office at the back of the store.

According to my grandfather, he took the satchel back to the veterinarian's house to return it to Mr. Olson. The vet told him that the injuries were serious, so the ambulance took him to the hospital in Albuquerque. Grandpa returned home and put the satchel in his office for safekeeping. There was limited telephone service in those days, so he couldn't just call the hospital and leave a message. He figured if it was important, the man or maybe a relative would come by to claim it. No one ever did and this issue was quickly forgotten.

Beyond the Flames

As time went by, my dad and his siblings grew up, moved away, and started families of their own. That left just my grandparents running the store. They would often hire local ranch hands who were looking to do odd jobs for some extra pocket money. They would do things like lift sides of beef onto the meat hooks in the back room or help with unloading delivery trucks bringing cases of canned goods.

When my grandfather passed away, the store was too much for my grandmother to run. She was having health issues, so decided to sell the store and move to California near my aunt. Since all of my dad's siblings were scattered across the U.S., they picked a moving date, and everyone showed up to pack up Grandma's things and clean out the store. They were able to get it all done in one weekend and still had time for an impromptu family reunion.

A few weeks later, I received three large boxes from my aunt. Inside one of the boxes was a small note: "For your collection."

Most of the contents of the boxes were... trash. They took everything from the store and put it in the boxes "in case they are useful". The boxes held sales receipts, invoices, purchase orders, printed ads, signs (as seen in the above photo), calendars, sale flyers, and so forth.

Some items were interesting like his accounting ledgers. When I showed them to my dad, he told me that Grandpa had only an eighth-grade education, yet he could add three columns of numbers simultaneously in his head.

There were a couple of old photo albums in there too. The cellophane covers for the pages had yellowed and torn so that they didn't hold the photos very well. The stick-on photo corners came loose as well, likely from humidity. There was also a small grayish-green colored bag. At first, I thought it was canvas, but it was clearly something else. A fine fabric of some sort that was half the thickness of duck canvas, but very lightweight. It had a monogram of some sort that was barely visible. I had to tilt the bag so that the light hit it just at the right angle. The shoulder strap also had some strange symbols, but were marked the same way so they were not clearly visible.

The contents of the bag were also puzzling. I am not at liberty to describe the items except in very general terms. One of the items was some sort of voice recorder that I had never seen before. The other items appeared to be mementos of some sort. One was a small piece of foil and another was some kind of plastic thing with the same strange symbols. This was the late 1970s so it wasn't like I could do an internet search to figure this stuff out.

My mom and dad were coming for a visit the following week, so I threw away the trash and set aside the photo albums and the satchel. My dad was an Electronics Engineer for NASA for many years, maybe he knew what this stuff was. My dad and I went through the old photo albums. He helped me identify people I didn't recognize. Some of the photos had dates on them, others we had to estimate by the age of the people in the photo. Then I showed him the satchel.

At first, he did not recognize it. When I showed him how the monogram and symbols were only visible when the light hit them at an angle, he recognized the monogram: RO. He asked me where I found this and explained that it was in the box that his sister sent me. The box of stuff from Grandpa's store.

I could see his mind putting the pieces together, then he told me the story about the injured man they found on their trip back from Mexico. He couldn't remember any other details but what I have written here. He did say that the man was probably in his late twenties or early thirties in age, so if he survived his injuries, might still be alive today. If not, perhaps I could locate a family member to return the satchel to.

I think that you might still have a royal connection.  Hanoverian rule of Britain actually started in 1714, not 1915 and was justified by German George I's descent from James I England, whose rule was justified by his descent from Henry VII of England and so on all the way back to William the Conqueror, the descendant of viking marauders.  I think that quite a lot of people might have to die "accidentally" before you can claim the throne, though.  On the bright side, many such "accidents" have changed the course of royal descent through the centuries.

I still have an interest in the occult myself and justify it as folklore but for many years after my twenties, I avoided anything to do with the supernatural.  When I was in my early twenties, it started to affect my mental health.  I was studying the grimoires in Idris Shah's Secret Lore of Magic and I began to hear strange music that did not seem to have any source.  I realised that it must be a hallucination affecting my susceptible mind and I even stopped reading ghost stories, which seemed to help.  I am no longer afraid of reading about the occult but I still haven't "got around" to picking up the Idris Shah again, about 45 years after putting it down. 

My late father, although claiming to be a sceptic, always tried to discourage my interest in the occult.  He knew quite a bit about some of its traditions, though.  He grew up in Cape Town where there were magicians called dukuns who were allegedly skilled in Arabic sorcery, although they would probably have been put to death in Arabia itself.  They gained their powers in a secret ritual that translates as "the churchyard ride".  My paternal grandmother, whom I never met and who was already well into middle age when my father was born, claimed to have been born with a caul, sometimes called a helm in Cape Town, which enabled her to see into another plane.  Among her habits was to turn and face the outside when she entered her home, to stop her double, which tried to follow her around, from entering.

Keep up the writing.

Quote from: MaryT on September 03, 2024, 01:58:49 PMI think that you might still have a royal connection.  Hanoverian rule of Britain actually started in 1714, not 1915 and was justified by German George I's descent from James I England, whose rule was justified by his descent from Henry VII of England and so on all the way back to William the Conqueror, the descendant of viking marauders.  I think that quite a lot of people might have to die "accidentally" before you can claim the throne, though.  On the bright side, many such "accidents" have changed the course of royal descent through the centuries.

Thanks, Mary!
I have no ambitions to claim the throne, so King Charles is safe from me. If the connection goes back that early, I have a lot of work to do. I have researched to a point where I can no longer rely on digital archives. I will have to visit and examine Parish Registers. It would be so much fun, but way out of my budget currently.

Quote from: MaryT on September 03, 2024, 01:58:49 PMI still have an interest in the occult myself and justify it as folklore but for many years after my twenties, I avoided anything to do with the supernatural. 

Several experiences taught me that what I was seeking was not on that path. In 1981, I met a member of the Rosicrucians, (Ancient Mystical Order of the Rose Cross - AMORC). They are a "sister" organization of the Freemasons and their hierarchy is very similar. My friend was a 10th Degree Rosicrucian (the highest is 12th Degree) and he explained the difference between magick, occultism, religion, and mysticism.

I joined and was initiated into the Order that year. I have been an active member ever since. I am 11th Degree (Illuminatus Major) and have been informed by the Order that I will be initiated into the 12th Degree later this month. It is through this organization that I learned that because I have always been a Seeker, that made me a mystic and they taught me how to research the topics that interested me. By showing me how to find the answers instead of telling me the answers, my spirituality blossomed. It is not a religious order. We have members of all religions from around the world. Anyone interested can check us out on AMORC.org.

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 04, 2024, 08:33:26 AMSeveral experiences taught me that what I was seeking was not on that path. In 1981, I met a member of the Rosicrucians, (Ancient Mystical Order of the Rose Cross - AMORC). They are a "sister" organization of the Freemasons and their hierarchy is very similar. My friend was a 10th Degree Rosicrucian (the highest is 12th Degree) and he explained the difference between magick, occultism, religion, and mysticism.

I joined and was initiated into the Order that year. I have been an active member ever since. I am 11th Degree (Illuminatus Major) and have been informed by the Order that I will be initiated into the 12th Degree later this month. It is through this organization that I learned that because I have always been a Seeker, that made me a mystic and they taught me how to research the topics that interested me. By showing me how to find the answers instead of telling me the answers, my spirituality blossomed. It is not a religious order. We have members of all religions from around the world. Anyone interested can check us out on AMORC.org.

Interesting.  I was always interested in the Rosicrucian adverts that occasionally appeared in magazines but I have never encountered a Rosicrucian before, let alone a higher level one.

Lori Dee,


Keep writing!  You have the talent required for writing well.


Chrissy

Quote from: MaryT on September 05, 2024, 06:29:13 AMInteresting.  I was always interested in the Rosicrucian adverts that occasionally appeared in magazines but I have never encountered a Rosicrucian before, let alone a higher level one.

Yes, the adverts were for the introductory pamphlet, The Mastery of Life. You can get free copy at Rosicrucian.org (https://www.rosicrucian.org/).

Did you ever find this guy, Lori? Or what happened to him? That is massively intriguing.

I did.

Beyond the Flames

It took years. During that time, I joined the Army, got stationed in Germany for a short 13-month tour, married a German girl, and had a son on the way. My family history research was focused on Leeds, England by then, so I forgot all about Ronald Olson. I made some contacts in various genealogy forums and met a distant cousin. (Not Charles  ;D ). She was a descendant of my great-great-grandmother and was researching that line of the family. We exchanged family tree data which was a huge leap forward in my research. My research helped her too. She often traveled to London and would offer to get certified copies of birth and marriage certificates while she was there. All of my research has been thoroughly documented in that way.

Toward the end of my tour, the Army offered me a Station-of-Choice option if I reenlisted. They threw in paid leave, extra time off, and $5,000 in bonuses, so I signed a new contract. My choice was to go back to Colorado where most of my family now lives. (@ChrissyRyan that is how I got a 2-month vacation, by working the system.)

I was stationed at Fort Carson, near Colorado Springs. We called it "Fort Cartoon" due to the politics that was in charge there. My son was born in Colorado Springs just a few weeks after we got there. One of the nurses on staff was German. She and my wife would have chats in German and I think it made my wife a bit less homesick to be able to speak in her native tongue.

During one of these chats, the nurse mentioned that she was from Albuquerque and her mother had been a nurse, but was now retired. That was my "in". She talked to her mother and found out how to gain access to old patient records that were buried in some basement archive. She even convinced a friend of hers to search the records for me.

The records showed that the account had never been paid. With a couple thousand dollars owed, the debt was turned over to a collection agent, who sold it to another collection agent, and so on. Eventually, the debt was dropped as uncollectible. I don't know if it was because they could not locate him, he had no assets, or if a statute of limitations barred it. But his last known address was in Pueblo, Colorado.

I found that calling places on the phone was not very productive. Even government office employees were polite but not helpful. It was like they just wanted to get off the phone so they could get back to their coffee break. So I packed up the car and took a drive.

I started in the County Records office, specifically the Tax Assessor's Office. The woman there was very helpful. She helped me find the right microfilm reel and showed me how to work the machine. I spent hours going through all of the property tax records and got nothing. I returned the films and told her that I was unsuccessful. She said she had a card file with cross-indexes that she could check for me. That went nowhere as well.

This woman, bless her, was not about to give up. She said she would call her friend at another agency to see if they had any suggestions. It took several more calls and we found something.

A Ronald Olson was living at a local nursing home and had been there for over ten years. I went to the nursing home and talked with the staff to determine if this was the same man I was looking for. He had no family and the only visitors he had were social workers. I asked about their visitor's policy and if I could make an appointment to speak with him. It was getting late, so I agreed to come back on Saturday to visit with him.

Urgh, I spent some time in Germany myself while in the Navy. Shame we never met. Although Ich spreche nicht sehr gut Deutch. Meist durch die Schule. :)

Quote from: Sephirah on September 05, 2024, 10:45:48 PMUrgh, I spent some time in Germany myself while in the Navy. Shame we never met. Although Ich spreche nicht sehr gut Deutch. Meist durch die Schule. :)

Ich habe sechseinhalb Jahre in Deutschland gelebt. Aber meine Sprachkenntnisse habe ich mir selbst beigebracht, indem ich mit Nicht-Englisch-Muttersprachlern zusammenlebte.

I probably forgot most of what I learned.

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 05, 2024, 10:56:37 PMIch habe sechseinhalb Jahre in Deutschland gelebt. Aber meine Sprachkenntnisse habe ich mir selbst beigebracht, indem ich mit Nicht-Englisch-Muttersprachlern zusammenlebte.

I probably forgot most of what I learned.

That's the best way to do it, Lori. Being among people who speak the language. Six and a half years is a long time. Wow. I don't think you did forget ;D German accents are weird. They're one half want to cuddle you, one half want to whip you. I'm sure there are people who would pay for that lol.

Quote from: Sephirah on September 05, 2024, 11:03:00 PMThat's the best way to do it, Lori. Being among people who speak the language. Six and a half years is a long time. Wow. I don't think you did forget ;D German accents are weird. They're one half want to cuddle you, one half want to whip you. I'm sure there are people who would pay for that lol.

I was stationed outside of Stuttgart, so I learned the Schwabisch dialect, which is like a Southern drawl. I learned that if you drink enough German beer you slur your words perfectly and the old-timers think you are a local. ;D

My in-laws spoke no English, but my sibling in-laws did. They learned it in high school. Between them, we were able to translate what was going on and I started to pick it up pretty quickly. My father-in-law spoke only a few words of English. I came home drunk one night and he said, "You go sleep now?" I said, "Doch, Vatti, Ich schlalft yetz."
He just laughed and mocked my poor grammar.

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 05, 2024, 11:10:35 PMI was stationed outside of Stuttgart, so I learned the Schwabisch dialect, which is like a Southern drawl. I learned that if you drink enough German beer you slur your words perfectly and the old-timers think you are a local. ;D

If you drink enough German beer you forget your own name. They make the English look like amateurs. That's why Oktoberfest is a thing. ;D All the beer, sausage, and lederhosen you could ever want.

Quote from: Sephirah on September 05, 2024, 11:16:20 PMIf you drink enough German beer you forget your own name. They make the English look like amateurs. That's why Oktoberfest is a thing. ;D All the beer, sausage, and lederhosen you could ever want.

My friends and I would go to Munich for Oktoberfest. Picked up a bottle of Jaegermeister at the train station, and I don't remember much after that. We did stand in line for an hour in shoulder-to-shoulder crowds to grab a liter mug in each hand. I woke up in my bed, so don't know if we had fun.

We discovered that by staying in Stuttgart, the Oktoberfest there was less crowded. So it isn't shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, but it still took waiting in line to get beer. I used to have a collection of half- and 1-liter mugs from all over Germany. I also had two 2-liter steiffels, the glass boots. At a local pub, we went to just about nightly, the boots weren't enough for our drinking games, so the waitress introduced us to the 4-liter pewter bucket.

We drank so much beer, the German government had to import beer so the locals would have some.  ;D
Now, American beer gives me a headache. Even the imports are crap. Think about it. Do you believe they export the good stuff? No. They do not.

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 05, 2024, 11:24:24 PMMy friends and I would go to Munich for Oktoberfest. Picked up a bottle of Jaegermeister at the train station, and I don't remember much after that. We did stand in line for an hour in shoulder-to-shoulder crowds to grab a liter mug in each hand. I woke up in my bed, so don't know if we had fun.

We discovered that by staying in Stuttgart, the Oktoberfest there was less crowded. So it isn't shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, but it still took waiting in line to get beer. I used to have a collection of half- and 1-liter mugs from all over Germany. I also had two 2-liter steiffels, the glass boots. At a local pub, we went to just about nightly, the boots weren't enough for our drinking games, so the waitress introduced us to the 4-liter pewter bucket.

We drank so much beer, the German government had to import beer so the locals would have some.  ;D
Now, American beer gives me a headache. Even the imports are crap. Think about it. Do you believe they export the good stuff? No. They do not.

I always thought American beer was an afterthought of prohibition. I mean you can drive long before you can legally drink, or.. y'know, do anything else. From what I've seen, it's very weak, very expensive, and if any American comes to Europe they get put on their backside within half an hour, lol.

Quote from: Sephirah on September 05, 2024, 11:31:00 PMI always thought American beer was an afterthought of prohibition. I mean you can drive long before you can legally drink, or.. y'know, do anything else. From what I've seen, it's very weak, very expensive, and if any American comes to Europe they get put on their backside within half an hour, lol.

My first beer, I was at the train station waiting for someone from HQ to come pick us up. I had half a beer and was buzzed. I fell in love.

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 05, 2024, 11:33:10 PMMy first beer, I was at the train station waiting for someone from HQ to come pick us up. I had half a beer and was buzzed. I fell in love.

LOL! I am teetotal, I have to be, because I am on more medication than a third world health service, but I know what you mean. There are societies in the UK dedicated to brewing niche beers. Very strong, very unique stuff.

Beyond the Flames

The following Saturday, I left Colorado Springs early in the morning. I brought a mini-cassette voice recorder and my notebook. When interviewing family members for my genealogy research, I would record the interview so I wouldn't miss anything. I can't write very fast, so the recording allowed me to go back and make notes without interrupting the speaker.

When I arrived at the nursing home, the staff told me Mr. Olson had finished breakfast and was in his room down the hall. One of the nurses escorted me to his room and made the introductions.

The man looked to be in his eighties. He had a gleam in his eyes and seemed happy to have a visitor. We shook hands and I explained that I was looking for someone because I had something that I believe belongs to him. I said that I needed to ask some questions that would help me determine if he is the rightful owner. He agreed and said that he also had questions that he wanted to ask me. I got the impression that he wasn't going to just open up to anybody, so intended to test me with his questions.

We asked each other questions on a variety of topics as we danced around the subject that I really wanted to get to. I was pretty certain that he was the man I had been looking for. I asked if it was okay with him if I recorded our conversation. He said he wanted to wait on that, so I agreed.

I decided that the best way to get down to the matter was to tell him the story that my father told me. I told him that he needed not to respond until after I had finished, then we could discuss it. He agreed. I told him the story, the same as I have told it here. Several times I thought I caught a glimpse of recognition, like he knew exactly what I was talking about but remained silent.

When I finished he said it would be okay with him if I turned on the recorder, but he had certain conditions. First, whatever I did with the information he was about to give me, I was never allowed to quote him directly. I could refer back to the recording to help me understand what was said, but that was all it was to be used for. The second condition was that I could not tell anyone what he was going to tell me until 20 years after his death. I agreed.

I turned on the recorder and my first question was why the conditions for answering the questions and being quoted. He said that because he had traveled back in time, certain things could induce a paradox and something about a Heisenberg something or other would change the outcome of this interview and my research in general. That brought up more questions than it answered.

He said he would tell me how he came to travel back in time, but first I needed to understand that time is not the way that we think it is. He said we think of time as being linear, beginning at some point and stretching out to infinity. If that were true, then nothing would ever repeat itself. But we think of time as linear because we only see a small glimpse of it. Einstein and others have said that space and time are one thing: space-time. Then he asked me, how is it possible for space to be linear?

Space is three-dimensional in its most basic concept. If you look at the lines on the floor where the tiles come together, is that a straight line? I said that it was. He said it is only straight in a two-dimensional plane of x - y. North-South, and East-West. But any pilot can tell you that you must also think about the z coordinates of Up-Down. If you drew that line on the floor and kept going, you would circle the Earth and end up right back here where you started. You see a straight line from every angle because you don't see the big picture. Look at that line as it circles the globe and you will see that it is not straight at all but curved ever so slightly. Space is 3-dimensional. Space is not linear and neither is time.

I sat there trying to un-boggle my mind and decided to keep the subjects simple enough for me to understand. I asked him where and when he was born. He said that I would not understand that without knowing how the world would change between now and the time he was born. He suggested that it might be better for him to tell what happened to him and then I could ask questions to fill in the details.

What follows next is not how he relayed the story to me. He gave me bits and pieces and through many questions, I was able to fill in the gaps. Over the years I have written his story, then had to add something that he explained to me, go back and edit what I wrote. Rinse and repeat. Many times.

The next part will be what I call "Future History". To Mr. Olson, this was history, and much of it he had to remember from his history lessons long ago. These were things that happened hundreds of years before he was born. But for me, these things were in the future and had not happened yet.

This is legitimately fascinating, Lori. I've seen a lot of stuff on supposed time travellers. Most, if not all, were mentally ill people. There are so many paradoxes and reasons why someone could not do this. To have someone who met one of these folks is genuinely mind-bending.

Please go on with this.

Quote from: Sephirah on September 06, 2024, 05:21:30 PMThis is legitimately fascinating, Lori. I've seen a lot of stuff on supposed time travellers. Most, if not all, were mentally ill people. There are so many paradoxes and reasons why someone could not do this. To have someone who met one of these folks is genuinely mind-bending.

Please go on with this.

As you will find out, he did not go willingly.  ;)

Quote from: Lori Dee on September 06, 2024, 05:24:52 PMAs you will find out, he did not go willingly.  ;)

Colour me intrigued! :o

Beyond the Flames
(Future History)

We took a break so Ronald could get some lunch and I could step out for a smoke. There was a fast food place down the road, so I popped in there for a bite, then took a short walk to stretch my legs. I would be lying if I said that my mind wasn't racing.

When I returned to the nursing home, I remembered to bring Ronald's satchel with me. He was back in his room and he smiled when I gave it to him. He didn't look inside, instead just set it on the nightstand next to his bed.

As I have said before, what I describe next was not revealed to me in any particular order. Our various conversations would often lead to me asking him to explain what something was or for better clarification. What follows are my notes of what he told me after I compiled things back into a more logical order.

In 1958, U.S. President Eisenhower directed the creation of a new government agency to be called the "National Aeronautics and Space Agency". Its purpose was for exploration of nearby planets and moons, and to research space science. Although there would be military advisors on the board, the majority were non-military scientists and the agency's mission was to be peaceful.

When President John F. Kennedy directed NASA to put a man on the moon by the end of the 1960s, government funding for NASA was increased. Russia was a perceived threat and for the safety and security of the planet, the United States needed to get there first. Astronaut Neil Armstrong was the first human to walk on the moon. (For those who don't believe it happened, there is physical evidence to prove it.)

NASA continued to have big plans, including establishing an orbital space station and even going to Mars. The general public was not as enthusiastic and government funding was cut. NASA continued with its plan for an orbital space station and began a space shuttle program to ferry materials and personnel from Earth to the work site. The costs were extremely high, but through cooperation with space agencies from other countries, the International Space Station became a reality.

As spacecraft and the space station itself began to age, it became increasingly costly to just maintain the program. Members of Congress felt that we had bigger problems here on Earth than to be spending millions of dollars to explore space. NASA began to seek funding from commercial enterprises. Some companies decided to use their money to fund their own commercial space program. Such a program is generally not profitable for corporations and the idea of space tourism began to gain interest as a path to profitability.

Commercial space programs then began contracting with NASA and other space agencies to transport supplies and people into space. Government-run space programs suffered huge funding cuts and using a commercial contractor made sense. With income provided by these government contracts the civilian space agencies began to thrive and to expand their operations in the space tourism industry.

Early on, space tourism was sightseeing tours. Low-level orbits allowed paying customers to experience zero gravity and get a peek into space from above the atmosphere. Eventually, this evolved into space hotels. The hotels were high-orbit space stations where paying customers could rent a room for a minimum of five days. Unlike the International Space Station, which was built for scientific research, the space hotels provided a luxury experience focused on comfort and leisure. (December 5, 2023 https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/worlds-first-hotel-in-space)

Most space programs plateaued at about this point. The cost of fuel, materials, and labor slowed further advancement to a crawl. But that changed with the discovery of Santinium. The Chinese Space Agency had set up a small "research" facility on the moon. American politicians and military became concerned that their facility's capabilities might be more military than research. Everything in China is under government control, so the fears were not unfounded. Thus began the next Space Race. The Americans set up a research facility to keep an eye on the Chinese. The Russians set up a research facility to keep an eye on the Americans. And so on and so on.

At the Italian station, scientists were drilling and taking deep core samples of the lunar surface. They discovered some interesting metallic ore and shipped it back to a lab in Rome to be analyzed. The ore contained a new element and it was named Santinium after Dr. Louis Santini, the person who discovered it. After a lengthy lab analysis, the conclusion was that this element was interesting, but of no real commercial value. The samples were stored along with thousands of others in a warehouse and essentially forgotten about. Four years later, the warehouse caught fire and burned to the ground. In the fire, some of the samples melted and mixed with other samples forming a new metal alloy with amazing properties.

The metal is extremely lightweight, flexible, impervious to heat, and almost indestructible. The Italians were the first to put this new product to use. Using it to skin their combat aircraft made them lighter, faster, more fuel efficient, and bulletproof. Before long commercial and military spies were able to obtain the secrets of producing this alloy.

The next phase was the use of Santinium on spacecraft. No more need for heavy expensive heat shields. Spacecraft became lighter and more fuel efficient, which meant they could travel farther with the fuel they had onboard.

At this point, it was getting late and I had a long drive back to the Springs. I promised to come back soon so we could talk more. As I was about to leave, he grabbed his satchel and reached inside. He handed me two items. A piece of foil and a piece of plastic.

I asked him what these were and he smiled and said, "What have we been talking about?"

"Santinium?"

He just smiled and said, "Have fun with it."

Beyond the Flames
(Future History cont.)

After the discovery of using Santinium alloys in manufacturing, world economies began to flourish. Manufacturing put people to work, generated sales and tax revenues, and resulted in superior new products. With an increase in revenues, funding became available for research and development, exploration, and charitable giving. Corporations became the powerhouses and national governments became irrelevant in space.

The lunar "research" sites became full-scale mining operations, sometimes under dangerous conditions. The United Nations tried to become the governing body to oversee safety and regulate mining treaties. The member nations disagreed stating that the UN had no authority off-planet. There was freedom in space and no one wanted bureaucracy interfering with profitability. There were occasional conflicts, but these were quickly settled between the disputing nations through peaceful negotiations. This just further proved that they did not need the UN to oversee anything.

With the increase in manufacturing industries, the demand for materials increased as well. Over time, mining operations were set up throughout the solar system. The more distant operations had self-sufficient colonies that produced generation after generation of miners. Orbital processing plants were established which enabled ores to be converted to their refined state with relative ease in zero gravity. Other industries developed as well to support the colonies from passenger shuttles to freight haulers and mechanics. Space docks were established to provide garages for service and maintenance, as well as secure storage. Greenhouses sprang up both in orbit and on planetary surfaces to feed the growing populations. Orbital greenhouses were preferred because humans learned quickly the value of real estate.

Over the next century or so, the space industry worked like a well-oiled machine. People had jobs doing everything earthbound humans did. Explorer became an occupation that hadn't seen this kind of popularity since the days of Magellan, Columbus, Cortes, and Drake. It was vital to continue to scout the system for new resources and possibly find the next big score.

The next phase saw a comeback of another old occupation: the pirate. Gangs of pirates would hijack freighters filled with valuable ore and sell it or hold it for ransom. This led to corporations forming their own security forces. The more affluent corporations had the best forces, and the best equipment, and rivaled any military force back on Earth. The corporations formed an intelligence network to track the various gangs of pirates, and without any government or laws to prevent it, they hunted them. Sometimes they eliminated them and sometimes they tortured them for information and to set an example for other would-be pirates.

(Murphy's Law: Reform never comes from above. The player with four aces never asks for a new deal.)

Increasing public pressure forced the corporations into negotiations for better ways to settle grievances. Thus the first Galactic Council was formed. Every member was an owner or CEO of a major corporation. There were no lawyers and no politicians allowed. Council policies were corporate policies and these became the law. With the law comes the job of law enforcement. Usually, this was left up to the security forces that protected corporate property. Private property was never considered because there was so little of it. Corporate employees were provided with fully furnished accommodations, including clothing. The aim was to reduce the amount of "stuff" that needed to be transported with the individual to a colony keeping weight to a minimum.

With the advances in space flight technology was an advancement in peripheral systems, such as computers, electronics, avionics, and communications. According to Mr. Olson, faster-than-light (FTL) travel was invented by a teenager in high school. Theories had been tossed around for decades, but each theory was nothing more than a "cheat" to use some type of loophole to get around basic laws of physics. This bright kid figured out the problem, won a science award, and landed a very comfy job before graduation.

The Galactic Council was in agreement that some sort of justice system was needed. They also agreed that such a system has been shown throughout history to be susceptible to corruption. There is no such thing as an unbiased human. That is why juries of the past have relied on more than one person to make decisions. Plans to put some type of justice system in place kept getting tabled until the next high-value loss due to pirates. Then the discussions began again.

The Galactic Council decided that they would build a Justice Computer. They felt this was the best option and the technology was available to make it happen. It would not be susceptible to bribes, or emotional pleadings. All cases would be decided solely on the evidence presented. If you committed a crime, you were guilty and would receive full punishment. No mitigating circumstances, no plea deals, no time off for "good behavior". The prosecution would submit evidence that the accused committed the crime. The defense would submit evidence that they did not. The Justice Computer would decide the outcome. No appeal. Case closed. It became a very quick and efficient way to move cases through a trial.

Ronald told me that he saw a bumper sticker there in Colorado that read, "What would JC do?"
He thought it meant Justice Computer, not Jesus.

With a justice system in place, penal colonies were established throughout the solar system. These were rarely sited on a planetary surface, again because real estate was at a premium. Instead, these penal colonies were established in orbital space stations. Rather than build new facilities, very often old and run-down facilities were used with just enough upgrades to be used as a prison. The former occupants of the station were often provided space at a newer facility.

This was the universe that Ronald Olson grew up in.

Beyond the Flames
(Ronald Olson's Story)

I have said before that Ronald Olson was a Time Traveler, but that was not his profession. Ronald Olson was a mechanic, specifically a Flight Mechanic. He worked on spacecraft of all types. The two items that he gave to me were broken pieces of spacecraft parts.

Ronald died in 1996 in Pueblo, Colorado. When asked when he was born, he said he couldn't explain it. He said the best explanation that he would be willing to give is that when one moves through time, it affects your "chronology" such that the date becomes irrelevant. It "muddles" things. He was not willing to clarify what he meant.

He was born and raised at Station RX-34J in Quadrant 16, which was an orbital supply station. His parents were medical personnel who lived and worked there. Ronald was not an exceptional child. He was an average student but was good at solving puzzles. Later in life, this served him well in troubleshooting spacecraft engines and flight controls. He excelled as a mechanic and had a reputation for being one of the best in the Quadrant. He was a hard worker. His parents taught him to earn his way in the world and to be sure to give employers their money's worth in quality workmanship.

Ronald worked for a company in the space tourism business. The company provided the equivalent of luxury limousines for hire. Except these limos had no wheels and flew through space. Ronald was the company's top mechanic. In addition to service and maintenance on the company fleet, he also had three mechanics who worked under him as apprentices. The apprentices took care of routine services like cleaning and lubrication. Ronald was responsible for doing repairs, often with an apprentice assisting him.

Ronald's quarters at the station were a little bigger than the others. As a supervisor, he was entitled to "office space" with a desk where he could do reports and fill out various logbooks. It sounds a lot nicer than it was. The "office space" was little more than a nook with bookshelves and the desk was a writing platform that folded up against the wall. He said he once calculated the square footage of his quarters and found it to be six square feet larger than the quarters assigned to each apprentice.

He had worked hard to be in this position and enjoyed the freedom of being in charge. He could come and go as he pleased and his bosses never questioned him. He would often work overtime to finish a job, so if he took some time off, it was because of something important. He was no slacker. He loved the work he did and was meticulous about ensuring it was always done right.
As the supervisor, he could pick and choose which jobs he wanted to do and which ones to pass off to his apprentices. His decisions were not about which job might be more dirty or physically demanding, it was always about managing his time. If he had a major engine repair to finish, he might not have time to do some other job that the apprentices could handle without him.

The company provided limo services for many corporate leaders, Galactic Council members, tourists, and celebrities. They had crafts of various sizes for the varying needs of their clients. Some had large windows that the tourists enjoyed, while others had no windows and were equipped with high-security features including defensive weaponry and shielding. Some were designed for high-speed courier transport, while others were more luxurious for those who expected pampering as they traveled in style.

One of the "luxury" craft had been reserved for a Galactic Council member the following day. As was routine, Ronald gave it a thorough inspection and took it out for a test run. All systems were green and he returned it to the docking bay. The following day, the Council delegation arrived and boarded the craft. Their pilot ran his pre-flight checks, found everything in order, and departed the station. Security officers watched the departure on the external cameras as the craft cleared the bay.

And then the ship exploded.

Beyond the Flames
(Ronald Olson's Story)

Ronald said that he recalls seeing the explosion as the ship left the hangar. He said it isn't like you see in the movies with a thunderous roar and shock waves pushing things over. There is no air in space. Sound cannot travel through space. Shockwaves do not travel through space. It is a silent flash of bright light, then whatever was there isn't.

The station was immediately put on lockdown. No one was allowed in or out. Mechanics were locked in the hangar bays. Office personnel were sequestered in the administration area. Security personnel were the only ones whose keycards would open any doors. Outside the hangar was only debris from what was once a spacecraft. A very expensive spacecraft.

Security officers did a sweep to see if anyone was injured then locked the doors behind them. The Security Supervisor must have been taking a nap. He arrived with bed-head hair and looking like he needed coffee. They began reviewing video footage, zooming in on various scenes, taking notes, and marking files for permanent storage so they could not be overwritten by anyone.

After 45 minutes, they gave the word that Administration personnel could leave, but the hangar bays were to remain locked down. Ronald said he could see the Supervisor and his boss talking about something up high through the Security Office window. Then the two of them huddled around the Security Logs terminal verifying who logged in and what location and at what time.

Everyone had a keycard that gave them access to areas they were authorized to be in, like their living quarters and workspace, but nothing else. Admin personnel had no access to Security offices or the Maintenance bays. Mechanics had no access to the Admin area. If there was a need for someone to go to another area, a security officer had to accompany them and open the doors for them.

When used, each keycard logged the person entering, leaving, date, time, and location. If someone went to an area without video coverage, the keycard would still log that that is where they went. Moving about the station was impossible without a keycard, and failure to have your card with you at all times was grounds for immediate termination. "Dems da rulz."

One by one, each apprentice was taken to the Security office and interrogated. When they had given their statement, they were required to "sign" it with a thumbprint. They were then taken to their private quarters and locked inside with a security override.

Eventually, they came and got Ronald. Their questions were rather simple. What time did you leave your quarters today? When did you report for work? Did you leave at any time? Did you go get something to eat, or use the bathroom? When? And so on.

Then the questions shifted to be more specifically about the incident. When was the last time the craft was inspected? Who inspected it? Were the logs updated? Who updated them? When was the last service? Who performed the service? Was the software updated? Was there a version change?

Once they had Ronald's statement, they escorted him to his quarters and locked him in. The next step would be to check each statement and verify that the facts match what is recorded in the logs. A packet of all of the supporting evidence was put together and copies were made for the company owner, the insurance company, and the company files. The original was locked so that no changes could be made and was held until the investigation was completed. After another hour or so, A security officer came by and unlocked all the doors and the lock-down of the station was lifted.

Ronald was in a state of shock. He walked out to the hangar and sat on the metal steps that led up to the security office. He kept going over the checklist in his mind wondering what he could have missed. He was always so thorough, it was not likely he missed anything. So... then what happened? Engine malfunction? Electrical fire? Did it get hit by a pirate missile? What?

He was getting a headache and went back to his room. He pulled a couple of logbooks from the shelf. Everything checked out. He had to admit that he had no clue. He took a shower and laid on his bed hoping his headache would ease.

And fell asleep.

Beyond the Flames
(Ronald Olson's Story cont.)

Ronald said he wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but he was awakened by a lot of noise from the Hangar. He stepped out of his room and went to take a look. A security officer stopped him from entering.

A FAT (Forensic Analysis Team) had arrived and was scouring the hangar. FAT is a group of robots that are controlled by the AI of the Justice Computer. Their job is to gather anything and everything associated with a crime scene and transport it to a lab for analysis.

Above him, Ronald could see one of the FATs in the Security Office downloading the evidence packet and scanning log files to add to it. Outside, a "Sweeper" craft was scooping up debris from the explosion. There wasn't much else he could see from where he stood, so Ronald went back to his quarters and went back to bed.

The next morning, Ronald had just finished breakfast when he was visited by three security officers. These were not officers from the company. They wore Justice Ministry badges. Ronald was placed under arrest and escorted to pre-trial confinement at the Hall of Justice.

The Hall of Justice is not as you might imagine. It was not a large building somewhere, it was an entire city. It was like New York City with huge skyscrapers and many other smaller buildings. The largest building was a fortress and housed the Justice Computer. Humans were not permitted inside the walls at any time. The JC security robots patrolled the grounds, automated defense weapons and shields and an extensive array of sensors made the fortress impenetrable. All maintenance performed within the walls was accomplished by robots under the direct control of the Big JC.

The smaller buildings would still rival some of the largest currently in our time. They housed various labs, maintenance buildings, transport services, human security force barracks, Prosecutor offices, Defense Offices, Pre-Trial Confinement facilities, as well as living quarters for the multitude of people who lived throughout the city.

Pre-Trial Confinement was not a jail cell. During its design, emphasis was placed on security obviously, but also on comfort. The city builders firmly believed that an accused person of any class was innocent until proven guilty. And innocent people are not held in jail.

The PTC was more like a nice hotel. Not exactly five-star, but not lacking much. The rooms were spacious enough and had all the amenities so that one could live there in comfort for weeks if need be. It is important to note that people accused of crime were not always low-life thugs. There were also government officials, CEOs, and celebrities. The JC did not differentiate white-collar crime from homicide or theft. Crime was crime and the accused were innocent until judged by JC.

Ronald found his accommodations to be more than satisfactory. The bathroom was stocked with everything from fresh linens to hygiene products. In the bedroom area, the dresser was filled with clean neatly folded clothing. In the living space was a small entertainment system that offered games, reading materials, movies, and a communications terminal to stay in touch with family and friends.

All under the watchful eye of security cameras and sensors.

Beyond the Flames
(Ronald Olson's Story cont.)

Ronald received a video call from his "attorney".

The term attorney is an archaic holdover from times when your representative in court practiced law. It was determined that they don't actually practice law. Legislators practice law by writing it. Judges practiced law by applying it. Lawyers just did their best to represent their clients within those confines.

Under the new system, your "attorney" is nothing more than an evidence technician. They represent their client by gathering evidence to support the client's position of "not guilty". They organize the evidence into a file that is submitted to the Justice Computer for the Defense. The Prosecutor is the same job except they submit evidence of the crime that the suspect is accused of. Prosecutors and Defense technicians go to the same school and receive the same certifications. They can work for either side at any given time because all they are doing is submitting evidence.

Ronald's attorney was an attractive young woman who appeared to be fresh out of college. Her credentials indicated that she was a bit older than she looked. She introduced herself as "Olivia" and informed Ronald that he was charged with multiple homicides. She told him that she was awaiting discovery (when the prosecution shows what evidence they have), and as soon as she has that file she will be in touch to go over their defense. She gave him a nice smile and was gone.

Ronald told me that at that moment, the reality set in. It hit him hard. Multiple homicides. Five people died in that explosion. He knew he wasn't responsible for their deaths. He didn't even know what caused the explosion. If it had been an equipment malfunction, then the service checks would have alerted him. He would have noticed something was off when he did the test flight. The delegation's pilot would have noticed something during his pre-flight checks.

It made no sense. His mind raced with possible scenarios. Could it have been a pirate attack? Could the SynLok 385 engine have suddenly failed catastrophically? It has never happened before, but is it possible? Could something in the electronics have caused a plasma overrun condition affecting the fuel supply? No, the shielding would prevent that.

He wasn't hungry and went to bed without eating. He tossed and turned all night. He had to have faith that the FAT would discover some clue that would explain what malfunction occurred. He just had to relax and wait until the lab analysis came back. Olivia will be able to answer his questions.

He finally fell asleep for a couple of hours before his agitated mind woke him up. He showered and dressed, then ordered a big breakfast. He was starving. His breakfast arrived just as Olivia called. She said she had the main evidence packet but they were still waiting for the FAT lab report. She promised to call as soon as that was in.

Ronald began pacing the floor. The PTC room was quite nice but Ronald doesn't like being cooped up. It isn't that he needs to go anywhere, he just needs to know that he can if he wants to. Being locked in was starting to weigh on him. He began noting the locations of the cameras that watched him but did so as not to be obvious about it.

He looked at the door trying to see if he could tell what type of lock it had. He tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. A security guard must have been outside his door and heard him try to open it. The guard asked if he needed something. When Ronald said "No," the guard told him to step back from the door.

He went back to pacing the floor, trying to find something to occupy his mind. He tried solving some puzzles in the entertainment center but soon lost interest. He managed to take a nap and he was grateful for the rest and that it helped him kill two hours of waiting.

Beyond the Flames
(Ronald Olson's Story cont.)

When the call came, it was not Olivia. It was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a stern face. Ronald wondered if he had ever smiled in his life. He said his name was "Austin" and that Olivia had been reassigned.

Ronald sat in front of the console as Austin began presenting the evidence that had been submitted to the Justice Computer.

* Video and key log files showing that Ronald was the last person to examine, enter, and fly the ship.
* Maintenance logs showing the last service and inspection were done by Ronald.
* Video and audio files of Ronald's admission to the above as facts.
* Forensic Analysis Reports show the destruction of the craft, and subsequent deaths of all occupants, was caused by an explosive device. The explosion originated on the starboard side of the craft behind the avionics instruments panel.

Austin said that Ronald's Defense file was not bad.
* Three apprentices under Ronald's supervision had access to the craft and work area besides Ronald.
* The video files do not show Ronald planting any type of device in the craft.
* The evidence does not rule out that the device could have been planted at any time.
* The evidence does not rule out that the device was detonated remotely by someone else.
* The evidence is not conclusive that Ronald committed any crime.

Austin asked Ronald if he had anything that he would add to his defense. Ronald noted that he did not have access to explosives, nor the knowledge or skill to assemble such a device.

Austin frowned and said, "Sadly, we have no evidence to prove that."

He said he had two days to add anything further to the file, so if Ronald thought of something, he would need to act quickly so the evidence could be gathered and submitted in time. Ronald said he understood.

Ronald's only real defense was that he was not capable of doing such a thing. He would never intentionally harm anyone. He was well-liked by those who knew him. Any witness could testify that he was a good person.

But these are the very types of emotional pleas that were removed from the Justice System over one hundred years ago. Humans are unreliable witnesses. Witness accounts are unreliable as evidence and emotional pleas are never considered.

Those two days dragged on ever so slowly. Ronald could think of nothing that served as verifiable evidence that he did not do this. It is almost impossible to prove that something didn't happen. After two days, Austin called back to see if Ronald had anything to add. He admitted that he did not. Austin said that security officers would come by tomorrow to escort him to his hearing with JC.

Ronald did not sleep that night. Over and over he told himself to relax, and be calm, he had nothing to worry about. Innocent until judged as guilty and he did nothing wrong.

It didn't work. He couldn't relax. He couldn't be calm. He wanted to break out of the PTC room and just run. Get away. Go anywhere as long as it is far from here.

The following afternoon, three security officers arrived and took Ronald into custody. Ronald said that he was so tired and stressed that he didn't remember the ride to the Justice Center. He remembers entering the hearing room.

The hearing room was quite large. The far wall was a screen, the "face" of the Justice Computer. The Prosecutor was to the left of the front table, Austin to the right. On the table was a scanning device used to submit documents and things for evidence. Seated behind the Prosecutor was a group of people that included the owner of the company that Ronald worked for, representatives of his insurance company, and the family members of the Council delegation that had been killed.

Nobody sat behind Austin.

A voice from the screen on the wall announced Ronald's case was to be judged. At the same time, text scrolled across the screen identifying the case, the parties to the case, representatives, date, and time.

The voice then asked the Prosecutor if all evidence had been submitted in this case. The Prosecutor acknowledged that had. The voice then addressed Austin and asked if the Defense had submitted all of its evidence and was ready to proceed. Austin said yes, and the Defense was ready.

The screen then addresses the insurance representative. On the screen was a document showing the insured loss of the craft and liability to the families of the insured. The voice asked the representative to confirm the details of that document and his signature on that document. The representative confirmed that it was accurate.

In some countries where jury trials were utilized, it could take a jury weeks to decide a case. Several days was not uncommon in this type of case. In cases involving lesser crimes, juries might deliberate for only a few hours. It took the Justice Computer exactly 37 seconds. Ronald knows this because it was displayed on the big screen on the wall.

Ronald Olson, charged with multiple homicides, judged "Guilty". Evidence processing time: 37 seconds. Findings:
* Ronald Olson had supervisory responsibility over all personnel working in the hangar.
* Ronald Olson was the last person to inspect, service, and test-fly the craft.
* Ronald Olson has admitted to the facts and does not dispute this in any log, report, or statement.

* Decision: Ronald Olson is responsible for the destruction of a spacecraft and the deaths of the passengers and crew that were aboard at that time.

* Sentence: Ronald Olson is sentenced to permanent imprisonment at Penal Colony A6-2307 in addition to the sum of ~1,763,232 credits in restitution. All assets are currently forfeited as initial payment.
* Judgment RO-AGB-84730-YFK:43A

Beyond the Flames

Penal Colony A6-2307 was not a new or popular facility. In many ways, it seemed to be more of an afterthought. It was a solar observatory that was located outside of Mercury's orbit. It was considered "minimum security" because part of the station was still in use as an observatory. But that was where the "minimum" ended. Due to its remote location in the solar system, there was very little traffic nearby. There were no sightseers and it was far from any of the shipping lanes of the major mining colonies in the middle and outer planets. It received one shipment per month to resupply both the observatory and the penal colony. The chance of escape was zero as no one had ever tried. There was nowhere to go.

Security was still tight on the prison side of the station. Access was controlled by keycards throughout the station, as were most facilities. Security guards monitored everyone at all times. The facility housed a greenhouse where fresh food was grown, and prisoners were expected to work the gardens or forfeit the right to eat. Fresh water was made through several reclamation systems that provided enough fresh water for drinking, bathing, cleaning, and irrigation of the gardens.

I was curious and asked Ronlad how many years it took for him to travel to the station. He said that I clearly did not understand FTL (Faster Than Light) travel. I asked him to explain it to me, but he refused saying that there would always be the risk that I could upset his chronology if he did. I suspect that he didn't want me to "invent" a warp drive or something and then change the course of history.

He did agree to give me an example but would withhold any details. He asked me what I knew about the subject. As I understood the current theories, space is folded so that the starting point and destination are close together. Then a wormhole is used to cross from one point to another. I had seen this explained by folding a piece of paper and then punching a hole through both pieces. He nodded and told me to sit tight and he left the room. He returned with a basketball.

Ronald tossed me the basketball and said that I was still thinking in two dimensions. Space is not a piece of paper that you can fold and then punch a couple of holes through and travel from one hole to the next. Space is three-dimensional. Never forget that.

Now, he said imagine your spaceship is in the middle of this basketball. The air around the ship is space and you need to travel from one side of the ball to the other. Show me how you "fold" a basketball so you can shorten the distance between the sides. I said I would let the air out of it and then fold it. He said if the basketball is the boundaries of the universe, and the air inside is space, how do you let the "space" out? And where will it go since nothing exists outside of the universe? I was stumped. He said when you figure that out, you will be close to the answer.

Ronald said that although time at the penal colony did not involve hard labor, it still bothered him that he had no freedom. It was just the same old boring routine day after day. He said the entire purpose of prison time is to waste your time and keep you away from "society". It is to make "society" feel safe knowing that criminals are locked up where they cannot do any more harm. But Ronald knew that he didn't do any harm. Someone else planted the explosive and he had no way to find out who or why.

Ronald spent years doing his daily chores and thinking. He had to find a way to clear his name. He had to find a way to contact someone who could help him. He couldn't do it locked up here. He needed to escape. He was sentenced to life, so he had plenty of time to form a plan and work out the problem. He loved puzzles, so this problem was a suitable way to keep his mind busy.

Ronald studied everything, the locations of the cameras, the routine of the guards, the routines of the scientists that he could see on the other side of the station. As an observatory, there were plenty of windows that were shielded from heat and radiation. He noticed the monthly shipping vessels, who unloaded them, and what security was maintained when it was in dock. He noticed the small observation shuttles that the scientists used to travel a short distance away from the station to record data from their various tests and experiments. He even developed a code so he could record his observations in his notebooks without anyone being able to understand what he wrote.

The more he observed, the more he was convinced that he could escape. The problem was that there was nowhere to go, and even fewer ways to get there. The monthly shipping vessel was heavily armed and well-guarded to prevent being hijacked by pirates. The only other spacecraft were the small shuttles the scientists used, but they had very limited fuel supplies and were not intended for long-distance travel. They couldn't even make it to Mercury, the nearest planet. And there was the problem of gaining access to one.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Some people are nice
And that includes you!

Chrissy