Who am I? How did I get here?



Chapter 3


Sighing to herself as she settled down sloppily onto a silty stump beside a starving hearth, a frustrated Mother Magdalena suddenly, manically shoved aside the acquiescence that had previously lulled her Consciousness into submission, now altogether coming just as fast to realize how much she had unknowingly deceived herself ever since obliviously first stepping foot into the Hollow with Al Rodnam. No, she told herself. Having been brutally forced to accept the reality of the manner of her child Mandorla’s deliverance into this post-apocalyptic world, and after finally reconciling her baby’s curious condition just before losing her to the Pond of the Aqueous Transmission, Magdalena simply would not allow herself to accept the task before her now without somehow gleaning more truth to her current situation. An epiphany or two is what she would need to experience, she realized, in order for her to take seriously the impossible tasks now presented to her.

Primal Human Rage started assaulting the gut of the Mother and she fell instantly ill reflecting on it all. Folding her delicate arms together inside the magical shimmering golden garb she now donned, Magdalena stared vehemently into the thick flickering flames that were fanning upwards before her in this black of blackest nights, never to notice an impossibly inadequate amount of kindling for a campfire this fierce. On the other side of the flames and her thoughts, the stark visage of the great guru suddenly came into form.

Shaking off her initial jolting panic, a hard determination then set into the swagger of the tall, dark-skinned woman, joined together inside her with an amplified secretion of adrenaline. Arising slightly in anger, the Mother held her face taught, intensely glaring through the campfire at Al Rodnam, who had now fully appeared across the flames. But before unloading her resentment on the old man, the mystic’s calm, easy expression somehow silenced Magdalena.


“I know, I know,” the old man reacted gently, determinately in respondance to the Mother’s discourse in an attempt to ease her mood, “you demand to know how and why you should trust me if I supposedly implanted a Seed into your Unconscious Body, many light-years away, without your permission, only to tell you several months later.” Between her narrowed eyebrows the Mother shot the mystic a curious twinkle of the eyes. “It wasn’t just ensuring we breed, and in a place, no less, where we’d actually be able to: only the Andromeda Biodome. It was imperative that we try our Damndest to increase as much as possible the chances of humanity’s salvation so that it may be brought back to this Earth Planet to prosper. This was not only what I myself deemed absolutely necessary to occur, it was as well in fact a Commandment ordered me by the mighty Solaria on Most High.”

The Mother froze up. Solaria. The Words coming from Al Rodnam’s throat struck her like an icicle to the forehead despite the heat from the hearth. Her glowing dress twinkled with surges of its rejuvenating power and was just as bright as the flames of the fire. She didn’t know how, but she was suddenly aware not only that she did in fact somehow know of this “Solaria,” but she also knew for sure, and with stark certainty, that she had personally encountered this amorphous Elemental God before. But because her access to this Revelation currently remained shrouded in Shadows, Magdalena’s Subconscious Mind would remain mostly entirely untied from her Waking Life during this point in Bry Dellows History. And right now, she was wide awake.

Her thoughts then focused on the mention of the Andromeda Biodome. Could it be true, thought Magdalena? Was she really taken there by this old man and… raped?! Fury took grip on her. “You should feel lucky I don’t strike you down right here and now for doing what it is you say you did to me! How dare you?! How could you without my permission?”

“I knew it certain that you would not go through with it.” The old man was solemn.

You got that right, buddy!” Magdalena, all hot by the fire, was arched way over the little mystic’s tiny unflinching body now, imposing her very powerful will on the short old man, who remained steady.

“If it makes you feel any better, my fair archmatron, it wasn’t rape. I artificially inseminated a Solaria Seed into your womb.”

More mention of this Solaria. Magdalena grimaced. “Does that make any difference?!” she cried, remembering her life-talks she’d had with Robot-Rita over the Badlands of Surface-Earth. “But why Andromeda? Why and how is the Andromeda Biodome the only place we’d be able to conceive? Am I from Andromeda? Is that where I’m really from? Tell me!

“Once Upon A Time, but from here long ago, your Shadow and twelve of her Hankerhawk sisters’ etheric doubles were Divinely Inspired to build the sacred Biodome.”


“Okay,” the Mother slowly replied in earnest, deciding against trying to fully decipher that comment at the moment. She paused. “What’s a Hankerhawk?” She shook her head. “Okay, nevermind, what I really want to know is… can you explain to me why you dismantled and reformed poor Amrita on the way over here? I’m still really bothered by that whole thing! And really confused!” she hated to admit, shouting disdainfully before adding “and disturbed, and disgusted. By you.” She shot him a spiteful glance. “And this.” She spread her arms high and wide as she spun around in place on the dust, sick of it all.

There was a brief, unsettling moment in the stillness of the black night.

Al Rodnam, cryptic as always, stared up at the tall, dark Mother and replied “For this very particular and prudent present moment in History here now aboard a freshly-nuked Planet Earth, and given our current charges and circumstance, I believed it best and most advantageous to our mission if our friend Amrita, with all her large part in this, had a cold-blooded reptilian pulse rather than a cold deceiving mock tin canister of wires and chips.” The mystic gave the Mother a dry look.

It didn’t make sense to Magdalena. She tried to think on it, but only found herself more frustrated. And as if to deliberately change the subject, Al Rodnam then simply, coyly stated “And you’re from the Pleides, Lina.” There were two big, loud pops from the hungry campfire.

Getting up to leave, the mystic was stopped by Magdalena. “Really?” she asked.

“Wait, I… I have so many questions if this is really true…”

“It is,” said Al Rodnam.

“How much do you really know about me? How can this be? I know nothing about you!” Magdalena was starting to get heated again. Her temples ached. “Wait, no. Don’t tell me. Not right now… right now, I just need some time… just, please. Leave my presence for now. I can’t bare the sight of you.” It was difficult for Magdalena to remain calm.

“Very well, Mother,” responded Al Rodnam, “for now, I will go. But remember this, Lina: I assure you that there will be a time down the line, in the future, where you and your new tribal sisters here in this village that we must form will be literally dying to make contact with me and the rest of my kin.”

“Your kin? What is your kin, old man?”

images-3“My fellow Godheds and I are from Sirius.”

Magdalena, beside the fire as well as herself, then asked “who are the Godheds?”

The mystic’s form was already slowly starting to vanish. “The Godheds are everywhere and nowhere at Once, Mother,” said Al Rodnam matter-of-factly, his lonely Words eerily Spoken in a shrinking choppy cadence of fading echoes heard only by Mother Magdalena, their Source now gone. -MIKE EYE



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Mike Eye found his passion for literature early in life, and has been reading and writing imaginative stories since elementary school. After working for several years on his own material, Mike Eye finally self-published his first novel, The Aqueous Transmission, in 2016. The author describes his debut tale of dark lore having been completely influenced by TOOL. He studies obscure sciences and philosophies, and is currently working on the sequel to his first novel. He has an incredible ear for music and also enjoys going alpine skiing and taking nature walks in the vast forests of his native New England. Mike Eye’s blog can be found at DarkEsoterika.com.

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