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   ARTICLES : DRUGS : INFORMATION THEORY
This is an archive version of 'Psychedelic Information Theory' Alpha chapters. The final version of this text can be found at:

psychedelic-information-theory.com
i. Prologue

James Kent

Late Night Notes from the Alien Hybrid Messiah

It is after midnight and I'm sliding deep into a heady cocktail of [CENSORED] and [DELETED]. It is not the first time I had tried this combination, nor the last, and the complete and total obliteration of sense of self, time, and space was now, if not yet familiar, at least not totally unexpected. Breathe, I told myself calmly. Lungs keep breathing, heart keep beating... All else has been let go. All else has been lifted from my body in a swift, drooling unraveling of all that once was James Kent.

My consciousness swirls into a vast expanding void of dark shifting landscapes. My mind opens up like a white flame in the darkness, illuminating Gnostic pools of ancient wisdom, casting shadows across the fundamental elements of all energy and existence. It is the flickering quantum flow of creation made manifest before my eyes, creation unfolding in stark clarity before me. All knowledge of time and place preceding this timeless celestial viewpoint is gone, I am born anew, nameless and formless within the expanse of the great void.

And all is quiet, except for a ringing tone, creeping ever upward into a high pitched whine. It gets louder and louder, and just when I think I can take no more it goes ever higher, pulling me up into some kind of inevitable piercing breakthrough. I feel it about to give, screaming so high up in the range I can't even hear it anymore but I can still feel it coming, coming, winding up inside of me... Deep breath, and...

SNAP!

Something shatters and I squirt sideways through reality, slurping up and to the right, rolling ninety degrees in space, stetching thin across the expanse like a rubber band. Just I quickly I snap to the other end of the band and I am sitting in a celestial temple, looking down upon the crude firmament of this wonderous new thing called creation. In a matter of seconds the dance begins, swirling pockets of energy collide at high speeds and vomit plasma showers clouds of hot gasses into the void. There is an epic struggle between the polarities, each seeking to find balance in the ensuing electromagnetic maelstrom. The hot gasses lump together and form dense pockets, erupting one by one into swirling galaxies of stars. The stars grow and die, new stars are born.

Around each star is swirling debris, dense particles of hot liquid metal orbiting her mass. Each planet spins in harmony with the mother sun, ringing with it's own unique voice, kissed by the pattern of energy from the mother star. Over eons the liquid orbs cool and molecular lattices begin to crystallize, each of which rings and vibrates with resonate energy from the mother star. Many more eons pass, and when it is finally cool enough for water vapor to form, life begins everywhere all at once. H2O, the primordial solvent, begins to work its alchemical magic on the salts and metals covering the planet's surface. Tiny cracks are etched, fine salts are dissolved and mixed in the ultraviolet lab, salts interact, complex structures begin to grow, and then begin to reproduce themselves. Behold, the long march towards sentience begins.

The unbroken chain of life recedes to these very days, the early days when the nucleotides danced, collided, embraced, experimented, forming new bonds, trying new configurations, trading energy, sharing energy, trading information along links and chains and chains of the most basic of elements. Natural affinities are formed, life begins. The weak fall apart, but the strong survive and reproduce, adding new features here and there along the way. From the primal beds life continues ever upward, towards the light, towards our mother son, eager to get up, up higher, just so we can get a good look around and see what's going on. We grow elaborate limbs to propel us and evolved complex organs to help us catch, eat, filter, and process energy along our journey. Journey's intersect, conflicts arise. The strong eat and the weak get eaten. The strong get old, die, and get eaten by the weak.

And the cycle repeats with a new twist in the chain.

The sad truth is that we can't all make it, but we are all driven to succeed. The feeding frenzy begins, the struggle intensifies. When things get crowded clever organisms dig in, find their niche and thrive, others come and rule for milennia, and then vanish into thin air with barely a trace. And on it goes, and on it goes, through ages and ages, species after species, coming finally to mammals, primates, homonids, humans...

I'm walking along some ancient dirt road. I'm in a body, but it's not my body, It's someone else's body, someone with long facial hair. I come upon a large crowd of people huddled together trying to get a glimpse of something, the sun is bright, I have to lift my hand to see through the blinding rays. But there, upon a small rise, a man hangs nailed to a cross. I hear nervous nattering among the crowd and am dimly aware that something important is going on and I need to get a closer look. I desperately need to see the face of the man on the cross, but the sun is too bright, he will not look up, the crowd will not let me pass.

As frustration overwhelms me things stop. I realize I am in a play or something, this is some kind of set-up. I ascend into the air and can now see the crucifixion scene from above. The drama continues to unfold even though I know it is fake. It goes on anyway, it all seems so real. I grapple to come to terms with what it means. Oviously I am God, and I produced the story of the crucifixion as a means to amuse myself? Okay, let me think it over again. I am God, I want to teach humans a lesson, so I devise this little morality play. I, God, play Jesus, the "Son of God" and am the star of this play. I set up a quaint little virgin birth, a humble life, and then get to the good part where I start preaching love to the masses and bith-slapping merchants at the temple. Then I get myself flayed and stuck on a cross, just so I can watch it from the crowd and learn something about humans, teach them something ugly about themselves.

As I hover in the sky I snicker and wonder if they'll ever get it, those humans. They just keep hacking away at each other, but God (me) love 'em for being so driven! I sit on my alien thrown, hovering over the Earth, witnessing the crucifixion, watching wave after wave of religious warfare bring ruin to cities and temples, and I try to make sense of it all, put all the pieces together, see the whole tapestry unfolding...

When I glimpse this tapestry unfolding I realize that I have seen it before, no, have lived it all before, over and over again. I am not only a participant in this play, I am also the keeper of some ancient secret, the guardian of an extremely important galactic prophecy. Parts of James Kent are filtering back into the picture now. I am not a witness, I am not an alien god, I am human, unless I am something more than human, like possibly an alien hybrid. Yes, an alien hybrid clone spliced with DNA taken directly from the Blood of Christ on the day of the Crucifixion. That's why I was there that day. I am both the producer and product of a clandestine experiment that has spanned two thousand years, the result of a genetically encoded plan to breed a new messiah and bring about the second coming. And now I am here, ready, finally awake.

But the scenario widens. I am not alone. There are others like me, government experiments, alien experiments, all unwitting pawns in the same elaborate conspiracy for control of the planet, to lead the way when Judgment Day is upon us...

I've finally cracked the big secret! I knew there was something weird going on!

I control my elation and ponder it some more. What does it mean? What is judgment day? When is it coming? Is it an alien invasion? Is revelations true? Some people are supposed to be sucked up before the invasion begins. Is that what's happening to me now? Am I about to witness a second coming, and full-on Armageddon as well? If so, what am I supposed to be doing when it's all going down? Am I a prophet? Am I the Messiah? No. I shake my head. I don't want to be the Messiah. Someone else can be the messiah.

But wait a minute...

This is starting to sound like a plot from the X-files. Was the X-files real? Things are startting to overlap and get weird again, the logic train I've fallen into has me at loose ends, nothing left to grasp at, but for some reason I feel totally scared out of my wits, like I've stumbled onto some secret so horribly big and true that my mind cannot accept it. It's fear, mortal fear. I tell myself it's not true, but then why do I suddenly feel so vulnerable, like somebody may be coming up the walk to switch me off. Suddenly I know too much. I've seen the big picture and it's TOO big. I don't buy it. It's too much responsibility, I don't want it to be true, but somehow I just feel it, I can't deny it. I'm the Alien Hybrid Messiah.

I decide to stop fighting it and just accept it. I take a deep breath and let the truth sink in, finally, for the first time in my life. It's been about forty minutes since I started this experiment and the drugs are beginning to wear off. The [DELETED] flash is long gone, but I'm still reeling from the [CENSORED], lost in a realm of infinite possibilities. But I'm back in my body now, and I'm not sure what to believe. Synchronicities are lighting up my head like mad, crazy things are actually starting to make sense. At least I'm not babbling, or am I? I can't tell.

But I am finally able to stand and pace around a bit, trying to decide what to do. If I'm the Alien Hybrid Messiah then shouldn't I call someone or something? Should I send out an e-mail? But to who? Who can I trust? It seems like such a big thing to tell the world, being the Alien Hybrid Messiah and all, but what else should I be doing? What does the Alien Hybrid Messiah do when he finds out he's the Alien Hybrid Messiah? Should I put an ad in the paper? Should I wait for a sign? Should I do more drugs?

I decide the best answer right now is to not do more drugs. I decide instead sit quietly and breathe until an appropriate response comes to me, or until I get hungry, or until I get tired of sitting there, whichever comes first. I sit quietly for a few minutes processing and trying to retain the events of the last hour. I let it all drift away and listen to sounds of city traffic around me. The drugs have almost completely faded away. My body feels light, energized, and limber. I feel like I've seen more than I can process right now, but also as if a great burden had been lifted.

I breathe some more and luxuriate in feeling calm, peaceful, sated, tired. The Alien Hybrid Messiah has had a long day and a good mental workout, and now feels sleepy. He does not care if Armageddon is coming tonight. It is late and the Alien Hybrid Messiah has to get up early. In fact, the Alien Hybrid Messiah has left the building. Let someone else do it.

As I brush my teeth and stare in the mirror I chuckle and shake my head. Heh. The Alien Hybrid Messiah, that's a good one. I'll have to remember that one. For a few minutes it felt so real, but now, a few minutes later it just seems silly, even if it is true. I chalk it up as another crazy drug dream desperate for a decent third act. I chuckle again as I think of psychedelic gurus who got too wrapped up in their own delusions and messiah complexes. Maybe they were doing the wrong drugs. Alien Hybrid Messiah.. Where the hell does this stuff come from?

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Psychedelic Information Theory James Kent. Please do not copy or redistribute for profit without express permission.


Tags : psychedelic
Rating : Teen - Drugs
Posted on: 2004-07-16 00:00:00