The arendt files, p.30
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       The Arendt Files, p.30

           Ivan Rosemblatt
 
As darkness encircled him his anxiety reached a peak and he was certain that he would be lost in oblivion, the sounds from the helmet faded down to the faintest hum. He was wide awake but elsewhere. For a moment he thought that they had turned the light back on except that he felt himself rising surrounded by the most exquisite color aqua blue he had ever seen. He also realized that he had no body and could see in all directions simultaneously.

  He floated in the pure azure field for a time, after which the edges began to change towards an apple green. The constant single tone separated into harmonic notes. In response the colors began to interpenetrate creating diffuse geometric designs. White now appeared as the field of color began to take the form of a sphere and blackness added itself from the edges. A sudden thrill of acceleration seized him as he was lifted up like a feather grabbed by the wind and he realized that he was looking down at Earth, rising up from the blue atmosphere into space. The colors and sounds he had felt as pure ethereal beauty were in fact the earth. Now the stars came into focus and a bracing silence came over him, the silence of a mountain peak at night amplified, lifted into living space.

  He felt strong and calm as he rose above his previous home, filled with awe and beatific gratitude for the beauty of the earth. Still, he was glad to be away, free from all of that entanglement and complexity. He felt no need or desire to return and turned his attention up towards the heavens and the music he had been hearing, a deep, pure, satisfying rumble above. He knew it was the sound of the machinery of heaven, the celestial spheres rubbing and grinding up against each other. The emptiness of space was paradoxically filled with the most satisfying presence of order; it was not a single, empty, abstract sadness, as his education had lead him to believe; rather, structures of pure consciousness, delight of movement, stillness and purpose.

  He continued to rise steadily and with ease until he reached a barrier. He had felt nothing solid for a while now and it struck him as strange and unique. “It is and actual sphere?” He could see it spread, curving in off to the sides. With his vision extending in all directions, it surrounded the whole planet. “Am I stuck here? Well that would be unpleasant. There must be a way through? Knock, knock?” It just struck him as the right thing to say. He wasn’t going to get too worked up yet.

  In response to this thought a new unfamiliar harmony arose from over to the right. Moving towards him, imbedded in the sphere barrier, was a circle; a geometric visual delight, a round multicolored shifting kaliedescope. It stopped directly in front of him and began interacting with him. He knew himself then to be a star within a circle and he let his own pattern interact with the portal. It’s constantly shifting shape and surface was made up of fine lines, electric filaments of flame blue tones; bright oranges, reds, yellows, purples, white, and lime greens.

  “The Aristotelian or the gnostic's heavenly sphere’s, separating us from the divine? Maybe it's just true. I would never have believed it” The filaments organized themselves through the thickness of the barrier until they hit it's back surface. From the center, an opening formed that grew, as substance was displaced and pushed aside, it reformed, shaping itself into new highly structured, self organizing crystalline machine. This substance knew only order, as it cracked and shifted it never took on any organic natural forms, only geometric ones, like engineering schematics, until it opened to his size and shape and he passed through. A bit of apprehension formed in him as he advanced forward. “I have been taking this rather lightly. I have no idea where I am going.”

  “My G-d, what is this?” He was on the other side now. To his left and to his right he saw, at a distance, what, he couldn’t tell? Demons, insects, robot’s, attacking the surface of the sphere? Made up of dull sickly filaments of light, similar yet of a completely different nature than the portal. Olive green, brown, dull yellow, but also organic and real, teeming inside and out with parasites, smaller creatures crawling in and out of the larger entities. Others were completely inorganic and looked machines operated by robots, all trying to hook into the surface of the sphere. They would gather and dig, puncture, tear, as the sphere constantly responded, defended adapted. At times they were successful, would concentrate tepid force, push through the shield and drop a sack of their essence down towards the lovely globe of home, landing on the surface, staining it's beauty. He saw all of this and understood it in a moment, “This was the real.” The earth was under attack from cosmic parasites of some kind.“What can be done? It’s hopeless. Look at them. They are constantly making it through.”

  He felt the pull and a call from above. It was a pure force drawing him away from the desperate scene. At first he couldn’t make out what it was. He was blocked, it was working on him, taking away his fear, the darkness, a plug, blocking his vision, drawing it out of him like a toxic puss. The area above him that had been unconsciously opaque opened. It was had always been there but out of view. As the dullness in his awareness was taken from him, healed, a marvelous tower was revealed, penetrating up into the heavens, white and gold, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

  He approached slowly, like a balloon pushed along by a gentle wind: details became visible. It's surface was intricately carved, arcades framed in spiral columns, moldings, openings like windows some hexagonal others oval shaped. It all reminded him of the many cathedrals he had seen but far more austere, the exterior was clean and smooth never having been touched by wind or dust. He was nearing it's base, a sprawling series of concentric circles elevated one from the other, the levels connected by stairs. Each level a garden rising from a masonry base of raw white stone. A few men in robes could be seen walking through the foliage or sitting, eyes closed in recesses or on benches.

  On a terraced courtyard stood a circle of twelve rabbi's davening, praying with a focus and passion so intense it emanated out from their circle as a visible pulse, that when it hit reached him, flooded him with a sense of awe and dignity and joy. He had never for a moment in his life understood or believed in prayer but here was experiencing the truth of it and was overcome with admiration for them, they were noble and manly.

  The sound of their voices along with their emanation met visibly in the center, interacting to form Hebrew letters of white and golden light. Those letters rose, imprinting themselves onto a spectral scroll, that moved, rotated, tilted, at blinding speed, adjusting to find the perfect home for each one to land. It collected and was fed by those letters, fed, but without hunger. All of it the, the priests, the letters, the scroll were, held, cradled in an etheric multicolored shimmering form that reminded him of the most beautifully decorated torah he had seen as a boy, with it's crown, mantle, breastplate, yad and eitz chaim. The prayers and images went up, all of it upwards. “I wonder where it goes?”

  All of them turned for a moment and looked at him. “Did they hear my thought?” One of the men stepped back arranging his robes, turned towards Leskov, smiled and waved. Another priest who had been sitting at a distance calmly filled the empty space. Leskov felt unsure,, “Is he waving at me.” He was reminded of the embarrassment of being in a crowd and waving back to someone by mistake. The priest walk forward. “Seems like it will take him awhile to get here. Why are all my thoughts so common in such an extraordinary place”

  The priest patting the air in a gesture of, “hold your horses” and floated up off the ground towards him, then, instantaneously, his large face with its long white beard with a few scraps of black hair still in them, was directly in front of him, almost touching. The priest was enormous, like a giant, two or three times larger that Leskov, but he felt no fear or intimidation. . The vibrant older man stared at him with a benevolent humorous twinkle in his eye. Leskov felt better than ever before, he was suddenly in a fantastic mood.

  “We are all small when we are children but become big as we grow up, right?” Leskov heard the words directly in his mind. “You are not done. You too will continue to grow.” Leskov liked that thought very much and felt like a child who aspired to be big like his f
ather in the most innocent real way. The rabbi took him gently by the arm and yes he had an arm again, and a body. They were walking on one of the paths of the temple arm in arm. “We are glad you were able to make it to see us but you understand very little of way of things up here, you smarty pants need to learn your way around before you start getting involved.” Now it seemed more like they were talking and Leskov felt more comfortable having a body.

  “Yes, you are more comfortable up here. I know you are having a difficult time down there, but I want you to know that you are a good boy and you are doing important things. We are all working together though.”

  The rabbi pointed off into space. In the extreme distance, but still, crystal clear, as if there were a magnifying glass in front of it (his vision was perfect here) he saw the Nazi war temple. A fortress, a castle, a mountain; beautiful, aweful, sharp, bellicose in every way. An Asgard dotted with sacrificial fires, animal sacrifices taking place on altars, weapons emerging from forges and being cooled in blood, giant men covered in raw animal pelts beating war drums, winged horses dragging massive spiked iron balls behind whipped mercilessly by demonic vikings. Purple and white rays of of light emanated from their home, cutting and scanning through the astral realms but somehow completely unable to see the temple or the rabbi's or their bright light penetrating up into the sky. The priest gestured towards them, “they take themselves very seriously.” and smiled.

  He pointed in another cardinal direction and there he saw a white leather teepee on a grass plain by a stream covered on it's lower edges with graceful geometric designs and dancing animals that actually moves. White smoke drifted out from the opening up top and he was able to smell cedar and hear the songs of prayer emanating out light in all directions. A warrior stood guarding the door. An old woman covered in a blanket emerged smoking a pipe with a thin long stem. She paused in silence and looked calmly around, then looked at Leskov and the rabbi and lifted her hand in greeting.

  “Say hello. Don't forget your manners.” Leskov waved. She smiled and waved back, then turned to warrior next to him and whispered something to him while pointing at Leskov. The two of them broke into laughter. “Are they making fun of me?”

  “Oh yes, most definitely. That means they like you.”

  “Oh.”

  “And of course you have so many flaws to make fun of.”

  “That is a fact.”

  “We do our work up here.” He was able to see the entire planet surrounded by its crystalline sphere as well as these beacons of light, 12 of them, organized on it's surface in some kind of geometrical pattern, pulsing waves of love in all directions but mainly down to the planet.

  “It is very good you came to visit but tell the other boy not to bring many others here. The smallest actions here have big effects and it can take us such a long time to set things right again when people are careless. That's why you are down there, so that you can muck around without breaking anything. It’s horrible when it get’s crowded up here and it took us such a long time to get any sort of elbow room to get some room to work.” He pointed up and Leskov saw a mass of teeming demonic figures on the outside of a kind of protective bubble trying to get into the temple.

  “You are here for a reason.” They were back on the grounds of the temple walking in the garden. Leskov felt something new to him, a sense of real knowledge and protection. He felt that as long as he was with the rabbi he would be alright. He was led towards the actual temple and he felt himself embarrassed and concerned, if he walked into it he might see something that was so awesome it could tear him apart. In addition he felt that he wasn't dressed right, which was an odd thought. He was wearing common clothes, his body that is. It was sin that he was ashamed of, not original sin, but just the sin of being so immature, carrying too much useless sorrow around with him. He felt that he could move forward. The priest beckoned him from a passage up a head. Despite his concerns he didn't feel it was in him to disappoint the priest or not do what he asked of him. That man was his teacher and felt he had known him as a friend and guide from before this life or even memory itself.

  They entered a high walled chamber. He knew that approaching the limit. Deeper inside, what was there was more than a person could withstand. Despite the walls being rough hewn rock, the entire space seemed vaguely immaterial, like a dream forcibly held together, kept in place. A mighty presence of intelligence pushed against everything, created a palpable pressure, his own consciousness and being were filled with an intuition of ultimate knowledge. It welled up inside of him but could never quite enter his mind as a thought.

  The priest stood off to the side against a wall, hands folded, eyes closed, brow furrowed in deep concentration, his lips moving but no sound was coming out. It fact there was no sound at all, complete clear silence everywhere, even his thoughts. More awake than he had ever been his mind was ceasing to function, he could not remember anything.

  In the center of the room was a large stone altar. On it was a small wood fire burning brightly. Two shafts of light poured in from opening high in the wall behind him. It was to so arid, so clean, so absolute. He stared at it intently, a transparent shape was forming, a nearly invisible object, a crystalline machine, elegant and perfect, but he could not make out the details of its workings as it was revealed only in parts and only for moments. Its movements fascinated him and all his sense concern left him, disappeared and were replaced by the familiar feeling of curiosity. Just as always, he simply wanted to figure out how it worked so he approached it. A

  As he moved in closer certain details came into focus and would slip away in the fluctuations of the light His entire being became a concentration on this most elaborate puzzle. He lost all awareness of his surroundings. It was just his mind, being pulled in, struggling to follow the logic as it constantly recede from him in a frustration of understanding. Just him and this incomprehensible absolute machine. Then no self any more, just the attempt to understand. Then no attempt to understand, just attention. Then no attention, just the Aleph on the altar. Nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . . and he knew. He knew what was wrong with his machine and how to correct it. It was right in front of his eyes, simple as putting sugar into his tea or his key into the lock and turning.

  Instantly they were back in the temple garden. The priest stern and present, without any words. Leskov was also completely silent inside and absolutely sober. He looked around again marveling at where he was. The circle of priests continued to pray, the stars above held in place within a celestial order, the parasitic beings attacking his home, earth, in the distance. It was all beyond belief.

  Without warning he felt himself being pulled, falling back, which he found very strange, disconcerting, he had no interest in leaving, so he righted himself by willing it, but the feeling returned. Leskov asked “What is this?” The rabbi shrugged his shoulder as if to say. “We have no control. What can I tell you?” Then grabbed Leskov firmly by the shoulder, he was stable again. The Rabbi looked at him and pointed his index finger, this time as if to say, “One last thing.” Above his finger a small golden Hebrew letter appeared hovering in the air. “I should have paid attention in my Hebrew classes. I wonder what it means?” He placed the golden letter in Leskov’s shirt pocket, smiled, and patted it. Warmth spread into his chest and he breathed a sigh of relief. The priest released his shoulder and he was pulled back and down, a man in free fall, sleepy.

  Chapter 31

 

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