25/01/2024
The continuance of “The Glass Box”
-The Otherworld-
I observe I am heading to floor 33. I have never been higher than 22. On the lower floors are the Light Warrior training rooms. Hallways, many doors that lead to an unknowing place where you are confronting fears you’re either too frightened to confront or something that may be lurking in the dark of an unwanted truth. Rooms of many different scenarios to overcome. A power you hoan within self. I know what you're assuming. Is this a playful fantasy of a realm you could potentionally become a hero in? Yet, you realize they are not what you are prone to entertaining your mind with. This place isn't an Academy; it's a warzone.
Upon the mind, the subconscious, and the ego-monic programming to all the other lives you've commenced. Especially the one you are in at this moment. Light Warriors are a dying force. Why do I say force? It is that we are not human or we are an extraterrestrial. We are in between the other worlds energy source of the connected . The spirit of The Ether King split into millennia. It’s like I said. There are only a few who hear the call of his voice. Some make sense of it. Others misuse the power only to be destroyed by Ether.
" It's a game of balance between worlds," I say as I am almost to the floor where two worlds will collide into one. You know of the ethereal space where all ideas start to cumulate into being. A powerful energy that forms into a creation that propels out into the perception of your reality. I’m sure most of you know this terminology as Intuition, Power, and Consciousness. What if I told you they were all the equal? I entice as I pace as I am counting the clock.
Some of you mortals have such an imagination sometimes. There are so many choices of words to tiptoe around such truths to avoid the reactional emotions you may stir up caused by - The Truth. It’s interesting, isn’t it? Ever delve deeper into seeing it from a self-severance outlook? Don’t worry, it’s not be your fault. A lot of us dealt a stack of invalid programs. Yet, I still wonder still how I chose this destiny. I say as I watch the numbers climb.
I will be tranistioning as Ezra: The Light Warrior. I look over to the left side of me to see the apparition of my younger self blatantly questioning. " Are you ready for this?"
A handful of years ago. I had the same question asked in a circular way of awakening to a gift I had awoken. I could see through into The Ethers. Imagine a camera manually foccusing on the subject in front of the lens. In and out, focusing; in and out. It then locks on the subject.
Captured.
I was given the gift of sight as a cyb as a mortal by the Synse Creator. I feel the tremor of doubtfulness run down my spine as if it was always time to be fed tar again at THQ. After remembering I was mortal. I awakened to being programmed as a bionic after the raid. So I believed I was bionic the whole time experiencing tortured at Synse. I started to rebel against experiments. I was then thrown off the skyward just to be recycled by the creators new AI’s. Only to be arrested into the spectacle game of politics with orders to cipher pilot commander of the army of Synse for twenty years. All he is here to concur is false dunamis.
A virus of Fear. The liberty of this society he built with money.
By continuing to do so. Infiltrating everyone’s mind. Creating the access to selling the requirement to upgrade to a Synse Chip. The Creation of bionic minds that feature a subsequence to obey the control under the coding abidence sector. If forced to install a microchip into your mind to inhance your mortality, would you?
You think you would know the answer to our society. Yet, You watched everyone feast in famine.
I formulate my psionic to my volt revolver for when the doors open. Without a glimpse, I reply, " I am ready for what is to come."
I confidently step forward to the entrance of The Astral Plane Floor Thirty-Three.
