Brushstroke

Actually yes. Read St. Ignatius of Antioch's (ca. 35-110 AD) Epistle to the Romans. He was tried by the Roman authorities and in his epistle he says that he desires to die. He sees his relationship with Christ as a sort of love affair, in a way. His love, Christ, he cannot get to, and he will do anything to be with his beloved, just as He has done everything to be with us. He was sentenced to death in the arena; the Roman authorities hoped by his death that he would be an example to others, to discourage people from converting to Christianity, but his journey to Rome allowed him to write letters to the churches in the area along the route, and this was his most personal letter, to the church in Rome. This will be a long quote, but please bear with me. It's truly a beautiful letter, and I encourage you to read it in its entirety. Ignatius to the Romans, chapters 3, 4, 5, and 6:

In the chatroom last night, in part of the discussion we were having, martyrdom came up briefly. Someone said that TWI does not glorify martyrs in any sense of the word, and sees the Apostles' untimely deaths as just evidence of how little their "believing" was. I was hoping we might be able to have a good discussion about martyrdom in Christianity. The Orthodox Church has a great respect for martyrs. In fact my parish has the relics of St. Minas (d. 309), an Egyptian third-century martyr who was tortured and then burned to death by Roman soldiers for blatantly declaring his faith to the emperor (the veneration of the relics of a certain saint are a big thing in Orthodox Christianity and Catholicism). St. Peter (d. 64) was crucified upside down, St. Paul (d. 67) was beheaded, St. James the Just (the "brother of the Lord") (d. 62) was beaten to death after being stoned and hung on a cross, St. Stephen (d. 34) was stoned as is recorded in the book of Acts. Countless others that I know of, such as St. Philip the Apostle (d. 54), my patron saint, who was crucified, St. Thomas (d. 72) was killed with a spear, St. Demetrius of Thessaloniki (d. 306)was run through with spears during the Christian persecutions under the Emperor Galerius, St. Maria Skobtsova (d. 1945) is a recent martyr; she was a nun working in Paris, who was killed for her faith in a concentration camp during WWII. There were thousands of Russian Christians who were killed under Communist rule, and countless numbers of Christians in Constantinople were killed at the hands of Muslim Turks during the Crusades. And then there have been recent missionaries who have been sent out by some churches to the Middle East or Africa, and some even to China, whose witness to Christ's gospel has been suppressed, and many times they were killed at the hands of the government. So it's pretty obvious that martyrdom is a big thing in all three major branches of Christianity, it's always been a high honor to die for your faith. With this, my puzzlement is at TWI's insistence that all of the Apostles, and by extension these people and millions of other Christians throughout the ages, were just not "believing" enough. Could someone elaborate on TWI's take on this? What do you believe now regarding dying for the faith? ~Phil

So I got pulled over last night for no reason at all!!! Suspicious activity my a$$... <_< A couple nights ago I was driving home from a friends house and I decided to take an alternate route home. I passed by the middle school I went to and went through a neighborhood in the area, and I noticed an SUV behind me. I was becoming a bit worried because the vehicle was following me for awhile, and then I noticed the light on top of it (it wasn't flashing). It was a cop. After awhile the cop was still following me and so I pulled into a church parking lot. Hah...like that wasn't suspicious...so she drives on as I turn into the parking lot and I think she's maybe going to just go away now, but she turns back around and meets me in the parking lot I'm in. We talk, she asks me what I'm doing, where I live, asks for my ID, etc. She said there was a report of suspicious activity from some woman who thought I was following her. She asked if I knew this girl that made the report, but strangely never gave me a name of who it was. I said no. And then she asked why I pulled into a church parking lot...because you pulled me over?! After a few minutes, she said I could go and told me to have a good night, just as I'm about to leave another car shows up right beside hers because they always travel in pairs at night. I assumed that I could just go and that they were busy talking to each other about me. I kept my windows rolled down unless they wanted to say something, and as I was about to pull out of the parking lot, the guy who just appeared says "Hey wait, don't leave yet!" and then he asks what I'm doing out there in this really irritated tone. I said I was going home, and then he asked why I pulled into this church parking lot when the church is closed, and asked if I knew the girl who I was supposedly following. I said "Not really...?" and he says "Not really as in 'Not at all' or not really as in you slept with her a few times?" :blink: This is when I got pi$$ed and asked just what the hell he's asking me that for. He's a f**king cop for crying out loud!!! He just made a long pause and said "We're just trying to keep the peace sir, it was a bit odd that you were hanging around a church when its closed, and some girl said she thought you were following her, you know..." and I was furious! He then told me to have a good night...I honestly didn't know what to say to him, I was so mad... So yeah...that was a weird night... :blink: ~Phil

What The Hey, I don't understand how you and others who defend Wierwille and TWI can do that with a clear conscience. All claims, whether in the end they are true or false, have some sort of basis. Some of the things said here about Wierwille and other leaders in TWI, and about TWI itself, may indeed be the result of exaggeration and people taking things out of context, I won't rule that possibility out (though I believe it is highly unlikely). But you all cannot just reject entirely the words of people who were in TWI just as you were, who are recounting their personal experiences. What reason would they have to lie? Why do you so virulently defend Wierwille? Catholics have not defended the priests who were found in sexual abuse cases, and the Catholic Church has even apologized for what has happened to many people. Heck, the Pope visited the US just for that! But it appears that TWI has not come out in the open about all the abuse and scandal in it. There is a large difference. Either TWI wants to keep everything undisclosed, or all the claims of scandal and abuse in TWI are exaggerated or should be treated as rubbish and feeble attempts to paint a black cloud over the white purity that is, in the minds of some, what TWI is. Use your reason and decide for yourself. ~Phil

I don't believe the followers of Wierwille and his teachings should be banned or restricted from posting anywhere. Many who've posted in this thread are right, they serve a purpose -- to show what Wierwille's teachings can do to people, how much people can be brainwashed. But dealing with just having got out of a cult, whether it was years ago or even a month or two ago, can be very damaging to one's spirit. So for these people to just barge into these threads, where others are trying to reason within themselves things that are rather sensitive subjects, and start debates and argue...it's sad. Either ignore them, or ask Paw to find a way to suppress such people from posting in such sensitive topics. ~Phil

Wierwille and others deceived many people, and they taught many things claiming a sort of divine mandate, all the while brainwashing their followers into practically worshiping the ground they walk on. I was flipping through the Blue Book earlier tonight, the book Stephanie gave me. I was looking at chapter 14, on Baptism. When I received it from her a few months ago, the first thing I noticed was Wierwille's obvious attempt to sound authoritative. He wanted people to believe him, and succeeded. This is how all cult leaders are, they want to spread their own personal gospel. It makes me wonder though, if cult leaders actually believe what they preach. The mind of a cult follower is easy to discern...sincere, but sadly brainwashed, to put it simply. The leader on the other hand, is not sincere at all. They may start off sincere in their research (or not?), but they often get corrupted by the thought of becoming a god on earth, having thousands or possibly millions bow before them. If the cult leader is a master of deception, does this make him a megalomaniacal genius, or a brainwashed fool? Does the cult leader brainwash himself in the process of brainwashing others, or is he fully capable of critical thinking, using a form of doublethink to keep his power? ~Phil

Welcome, kenwas. So you're 20, eh? Finally, someone my age around here! I'm 19. I was never in TWI, but I came to this site looking for information. I have a very close friend who was also raised in TWI, and when she described it to me, I, like your roommate, thought it sounded like a cult. She and I have had a few discussions about our differing religious beliefs in the past, and the more I talked with her the more I got the feeling that she's involved in something that just...doesn't seem right. Every time we talk about religion, it always seems like she's trying to convince me that she's right. But enough about that. I came here for information, and I've learned a lot. I hope you do too. Hope you enjoy it here! :) ~ Phil

Whoa... I was doing some reading earlier, and I read something by St. Isaac the Syrian (look him up, great guy) and as I read it Wierwille and what I've read about him immediately popped into my head. Just thought I'd share it with you all. I thought this was really creepy how descriptive this is of Wierwille.

I never knew Vic, nor had any experiences in TWI, but what I've read is enough to tell me this man truly was the lowest of the low. I can only pray that God has mercy on his soul. It worries me, about Steph and her family, and at the same time it makes me incredibly angry when I read the things Wierwille did and said. As I've stated before, Steph and I have talked about our religious differences before; and when we talk about it, she gets arrogant, completely unlike her. She also asked me where I was getting my information about Vic because I blatantly told her my extremely low opinion of him, and she just said in a half-sarcastic tone, "Uhhhhhh...yeeeaaahhh...don't go to those sites. All the stuff they say is bull$h!t" I said "But Steph, all claims, whether true or false, have a basis in truth." I asked if she's actually looked at the sites and she told me she hadn't, that she doesn't need to because she knows the truth. And that is when she told me that her mom knew Wierwille, and then said he was a great man. I was astonished. It's amazing what this man and his organization have done to people's minds. Why should we all keep silent for the sake of the poor believers who are offended? More information needs to be released, and more people need to speak out and make known TWI and what it has done to people. So if I am a "carrion-eater," so be it.

While we're on the subject of baptism, what does TWI think of the other Sacraments? Namely, the Eucharist, Confirmation, Confession, Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Marriage? I'm absolutely sure TWI doesn't view them in the same way, but still, what was Wierwille's theology regarding each one?

He took this too?! Wow... And no I haven't met Steph in person yet. We're going to meet in November, we think. Kind of far off, but since I canceled the reservation for the trip in May, the ticket itself is still good until March 20, 2009. So I can change the destination to anywhere in the US, but specifically for either Virginia or Florida, wherever she may be at the time and for whatever date is convenient for both of us. We're thinking late November-early December because we'll both be on our break from school for the holidays at that time.

I was talking to a friend from church today, and we were talking about baptism, specifically about how his sister is going to baptized into the Church soon. Stephanie was in the back of my mind and I got to thinking, "What does TWI have to say about baptism?" I've read that Wierwille taught that water baptism was completely unnecessary for Christians after Pentecost. Is this true, or is there more to it than this?

:o He was one of my favorite comedians! May he rest in peace.

As others have said, it depends on what you're looking for. Personally, I've found the Orthodox Church to be quite satisfying. I was never a member of TWI, but I did convert to Orthodoxy from evangelical Christianity. Mainly my reasons for converting were rooted in my study of the early church fathers, but Orthodoxy's emphasis on ascetic spirituality, and on holding fast to the earliest traditions in Christianity, really attracted me. I've also found that in Orthodoxy there is no conflict between dogma and spirituality, or the tradition of the Church and personal spiritual pursuits. Somehow they intertwine and influence one another, whereas in Western Christianity it's like two ends of a pole. On one end, you have systematic theology as an academic discipline, intellectual approaches to God, and what could be considered orthodox or mainstream Christianity, and on the other end of the pole you have mysticism, esoteric spirituality and contemplative prayer; those who practice this type of spirituality usually tend to shy away from doctrine and theology in favor of what could be called "liberal Christianity." It's a very careful balance. I've also encountered this same balance with the Church itself. No one thing is emphasized over another. Scripture has its' place, Tradition has its' place and...that statement is incorrect...actually both Scripture and Tradition are seen as one and the same. All things in Orthodox Christianity, whether they be the sacraments, the liturgy, icons, scripture, the church fathers and saints, miracles and spiritual gifts, asceticism and personal prayer...they all have their place and nothing is really emphasized (like baptism is emphasized in the Baptist church, or how Pentecostal churches place a strong emphasis on speaking in tongues) because it all comprises a concrete whole. This means that nothing really changes; the last thing the Orthodox Church does is change! The only thing that really is emphasized above all else is love of God and love of your neighbor. You'll find people who truly believe in God's work among His people and who try to preserve the Truth that the Holy Spirit has given us. I have to say, in the Orthodox Church the people I've met are so down to earth and humble, and my priest is always willing to help when I ask. In my parish there are a lot of programs that are done to help the needy in our community, donations for schools, disaster relief programs, drug rehabilitation programs, etc. There's just a lot of compassion and willingness to help. A real sense of family, I think. Of course, I think doctrinal issues might be a problem for you in Orthodoxy if you think it might also be an issue with Catholicism, but look into it. :)

As someone who was never in TWI, I can't speak from any personal experiences involving the cult. However, a girl I dated in high school asked me to go with her to her church one Sunday. It was a Pentecostal church, and someone spoke in tongues on stage. After awhile, everyone in the small church was "speaking in tongues" and I did not understand any of what was said by any of the people there. I was scared out of my mind. Suffice it to say, I broke up with her after that. :blink: But as far as glossolalia, or SIT, is concerned, I have quite a bit to say. I don't think a lot of what you see in churches today is authentic. If it is, it's used too much. If not, it is no more than a psychological phenomenon and not a true spiritual experience. St. Paul warned the Corinthian church about misusing the gift of tongues. The purpose of spiritual gifts is for the edification and growth of the entire Church (1 Cor. 12:1-26) and tongues is regarded by Paul as merely another gift, he never showed any particular preference to it. He also emphasizes understanding and interpretation of tongues (1 Cor. 14:9-17, emphasis mine on vv. 13-17). This isn't quite the same as what happened at Pentecost. We could say that there are two types of glossolalia: that which happened at Pentecost, and that which was with the Corinthians. Corinthian Glossolalia was an activity of the Holy Spirit coming upon a person and compelling him to external expressions directed to God, but not understood by others. (1 Cor. 14:4) In Pentecost Glossolalia, while speaking in several different tongues, both the speaker and the listener understood what was uttered. The Glossolalia manifested in Corinth was the utterance of words, phrases, sentences, etc., intelligible to God but not to the person uttering them. What was uttered needed to be interpreted by another who had the gift of interpretation. (1 Cor. 14:5) When the person spoke, his soul became passive and his understanding became inactive. He was in a state of ecstasy. While the words or sounds were prayer and praise, they were not clear in meaning and gave the impression of something mysterious. The phenomenon included sighs, groaning, shouting, cries and utterances of disconnected speech, sometimes jubilant and some times ecstatic. There is no question-the Church of Corinth had Glossolalia; St. Paul attests to that and makes mention of it. But he also cautions the Corinthian Christians about excessive use; especially to the exclusion of the other more important gifts. (1 Cor. 12:11-12, 20) It appears St. Paul was questioned about the working of the Holy Spirit through the Gifts. Corinth was greatly influenced by Greek paganism which included demonstrations, frenzies and orgies all intricately interwoven into their religious practices. In post-Homeric times various cults of Dionysus made their entrance into the Greek world. According to these various religious traditions, music, dancing, intoxication and utterances had the power to make men divine; to produce a condition in which the normal state was left behind and the inspired person perceived what was external to himself and the senses. In other words, the soul was supposed to leave the body, hence the word ecstasy (Gk. ek stasis "out of body"). They believed that while the being was absent from the body, the soul was united with the deity. At such times, the ecstatic person had no consciousness of his own. The Corinthians of Paul's time were living under the influence of Dionysiac religious customs. It was natural that they would find certain similarities more familiar and appealing. Thus the Corinthians began to put more stress on certain gifts like glossolalia. No doubt the apostle was concerned that their ties and memories of the old life should be reason enough to regulate the employment of Glossolalia. In chapter 14, he says: "I would like for all of you to speak in strange tongues; but I would rather that you had the gift of proclaiming God's message. For the person who proclaims God's message is of greater value than the one who speaks in strange tongues-unless there is someone who can explain what he says, so the whole Church may be edified. So when I come to you, my brethren, what use will I be to you if I speak in strange tongues? Not a bit, unless I bring to you some revelation from God or some knowledge or some inspired message or some teaching." Apostolic times were a unique period rich with extraordinary and supernatural phenomena for the history of mankind. The Holy Spirit endowed men and women with many gifts in order to bring Christ's message to the world. One of God's gifts during New Testament times was speaking in tongues. But even from New Testament times, it would seem Glossolalia began to phase out. St. Paul, it seems, indicates later in chapter 14 that Glossolalia should be minimized and understood preaching maximized. Justin Martyr, a prolific second-century writer lists several kinds of gifts but does not mention Glossolalia. St. John Chrysostom, an archbishop of the church of Constantinople, wrote numerous homilies on the books of the New Testament during the fourth century but does not appear to make mention of Glossolalia as noted in 1 Corinthians. Many Christian writers, certainly mystics, wrote about states of ecstasy during praise and worship, of seeing visions of God's kingdom, of what they perceived eternal life with Christ to be, of how the Holy Spirit spoke to them and through them, to others. But from what I've seen theirs was always understood, intelligible, comprehensible communication. Perhaps they could not describe in earthly and material frames of reference what they saw and experienced, but they were conscious and fully aware of what was happening. They were not in some state of senselessness. Even many Christian monks who experience some sort of divine communication and who have reached a state of holiness, do not speak in tongues. They speak in words that are intelligible and utter clear words in hymn and praise of God and His truth. And besides, even if tongues were a notable or very important gift, what St. Paul said holds true, as it does for any gift: "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing. Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away." (1 Cor. 13:1-3, 8)

Was there ever a supposed biblical basis for this system of lay ministry work? Or a biblical basis for TWI even having the authority to assign jobs to the faithful?

Yeah, fast food places have really gone downhill...but...were they ever on the top of the hill? I guess I'm not old enough to remember when Burger King's Whopper really was a Whopper, now it's just this really small little thing...I hate BK anyway. The last time I went to McDonalds, which was ages ago, I ordered a double-quarter-pounder and they forgot the bottom bun! And Jim...rofl.

I have to say WordWolf, I'm sort of happily apathetic about the whole thing now. Screw the relationship. I'm not going to entertain the possibility of compromising my faith which will last me forever, for something that might last only a year or so, maybe more, maybe less. She and I will just stay friends. I remember how, often, I would have this strange feeling that something wasn't right when she and I were talking some nights, or when I was in the car listening to the radio, a certain song would come on and it would remind me of her, and something in my subconscious would interpret the lyrics as meaning "The relationship won't work." I just had this deep feeling that things just wouldn't work, and our spiritual differences was one of the major reasons why (she still doesn't realize the full extent of what I think of TWI). I denied this feeling, and kept those good feelings I had with her. But yeah, it's over if there was ever anything in the first place. We still talk and we're still friends I still love her, but I'm done. I'll definitely stick around though. :) ~ Phil Aw, thanks! :)

Because my dad was in the hospital (he's fine now, thank God), and because him and my mom and my aunt and uncle planned a family reunion in South Padre, TX, I decided to cancel the trip to Virginia to go see Stephanie. Family comes first, always. She was kind of bummed, I was too, but we both decided that we won't be able to do this whole phone-relationship thing for another possibly 5 months, so we broke it off. We still talk, we're still friends, we still have feelings for each other, but we were talking about God the other night, and some of the things she said...I cannot recall exactly, but I remember feeling uneasy with what she was saying. I've always felt like this, even before I knew anything about TWI and her affiliation with it. My idea of Christianity as a Christian in the Eastern Orthodox Church, and her idea of Christianity as one who was raised The Way International, are two entirely different things. I believe God speaks to people in many ways. Sometimes tangible, sometimes not so much. It was a faint whisper in my ear that I heard last night as I was praying, I know the voice was not my own thoughts. It's strange, how you hear a voice and you can't tell what it is saying, but you understand exactly the meaning of whatever is said. I believe God was speaking to me when He told me, last night, that I should break off whatever Stephanie and I have. I would have never thought about doing this before now, having been content with what we now have. But I believe God is telling me that it would be better off for both she and I if we just broke everything off-- whether it be friends, or more than friends, or otherwise. She and I have had discussions in the past, a couple of which turned into arrogance on both sides. It's ironic, how we can be laughing about what's going on in our lives and other random things one minute, and then the next minute we find ourselves butting heads saying the other is wrong. There was a time when she said to me, and I quote, after I told her I felt uneasy about something she had just said, "Well, the Word of God says the light is blinding to those who are in darkness." The tone of her voice as she muttered these words had this air of superiority and arrogance. And yet, not more than a couple minutes after she makes that remark, she says "I still love you." I don't doubt that she does, and I love her too. But if our differences bother me this much, then I think it would be best if we just parted ways. I should have listened to Fr. John. ~Phil

Make of it what you will. I can't say I have a title for this. I simply started typing one night in April of last year as thoughts flitted through my head. I've been thinking a lot today and I figured I'd post this. I felt awkward, having the file just sitting in my folder where I keep all of my other ramblings. It is difficult for me to explain why I post this other than to say it seemed awkward for me not to post it somewhere, so I chose to post it, for once. As I have already said, make of it what you will. That's all any of us can do, right? -------------------- Dear You, As I looked through her glassy eyes I wondered what would happen when it was my time to die. If I could make its dark waters calm with but a stare like her. That moment distraught throughout me, and I hid beneath myself till now because that’s all I have ever really had. And its dawned upon me, sinking me into a final decision, an act that would commit me to the one thing I cannot fear because of its unknown depth. I’m upon these banks and feel no calm. When I looked at her face I saw nothing holding on. An apathy of her soul that finally consumed her, relinquishing a flame that had stood her up before the world. I asked her what it was like, what laming sense produced now inside her, and she just stared at me with a peace that was absent of emotion. What was she thinking as its mutation distraught her mind? What would it be like when it was place for me to feel her pain? To know that the following breath would be my last, that my flame too would flash out before the banks of an unknown crossing. I prayed to God Almighty for her. But looking into her eyes I knew she had abandoned the light. It took me forever to understand, but I feel now the same grace in absence, just as her now dead thoughts. Why is nature this way? Why must we contend a fruitless fight with death? I think she saw immortality reveal itself, and it was not as she had faith towards. Yet still that calm in her eyes reflected out towards me through her stare, and I know why she felt all right by herself. For I too now feel an echoing loneliness that I wish I would have known long ago. I feel better than I ever knew was possible, even now at this closing time. They had told me this life was just the beginning. That my loyal heart would cross me to the body of a newer world, one free of the pains of this. That I could be loved by one whose care unbound infinitely over the whole of time. But one who had impregnated heartache within me for the selfish actions of prior years. One who allowed my friends’ suffering before her selfish fall. I felt no other world setting in her sight, in the grey tint of that morning’s sky that stretched out across the chapel. Her pupils shook me that day, and I felt like she was trying to tell me something with her cold skin and lifelessness. Speaking to me through her eyes’ blank calm. But I have not come to terms just yet, and I still grip onto my life with feeling, yet my bodies' sleep comes soon despite my hold. Sadly though her dying heart is not what inspired me to write upon these pages, and, actually, it’s far from it. My friend would not have wanted the end I have now concluded. I too will soon feel regret if it has not yet aroused itself in me. My eyes shine now and I am happy once in a long while, but I believe I take my final moments to write this for the sake of others’ minds to not feel the disposing will that shed inside me to create my poor decision. Maybe my death can capture all, my dying mind being a source for those to know a happiness I before had just abandoned. To what is this death I lack till then soon come? I hold no true answer, only minor propositions and inane ideas. No wisdom to its unknown border or possessing inevitability. I simply do not know what lies beyond, and, for this reason, I contain no dread to its coming hands. And my death is on my own knives, my own waning hand. But I cannot lie when I say that I dread the passing of this single world, of my few friends that will strive on with their effort to continue. I must write fast, think to the speed of light to furnish my message; else I may be overcome with my painless sleep before I wish. What of non-existence as I approach my condemned fate? It’s hard to gaze across. That these thoughts and pages will no longer be, that I, myself, will cease to be. But you, the reader, will be left this letter I wrote just for any of your eyes, but to me it shall no longer be as it is, or be it at all. It’s incredible, truly incredible to judge upon this fine line of darkening contrast with the end; for me anyways. It seems easy to conceive a God to make it less...unimaginable. To make the unknowable into definition, into a truth. But its becoming too intricate, too man-made to judge the absent Being of the beyond, and I can no longer draw myself upon the organized to see something that shows no realness, no entity. Or one that would condemn us to pain and suffering because a man and a woman acted upon what makes us human, what makes us different. One that would make things harder because it wanted a bunch of tiny voices filled with the sorrow of awareness to praise its deeds. But, simply; I do not know, I do not care. I don’t care about the beyond, I care only with the fact I now leave my boulder at the bottom of the hill. Perhaps if God is there it is better if we did not look out up to him. Would it not make us see and fight against the death that we must produce ever more harder? Do we not waste effort looking heavenward for his absent word? Do we not deny the grandeur of this life, this singular world, our unscripted plays, when we charge out that this experience is but one of despair and sin to the evil nature of man? Who burrowed out to proclaim such things? To bring a pessimism onto this world as it burns alive amid our own self-inflicted wounds? Would it not make God have no difference as I acknowledge that I am my own? That I simply know what place I tread throughout? I say that even if it was before me, if his transcendence produced itself now throughout my limbs, that it wouldn’t matter. And what was the decision that made me kindle my life now to ash? Well, it was a number of things, all of which satisfied me in such a way that I would make this untimely plunge. Each brought me further to the brink, to a harboring of hopelessness deep inside my views, and, looking now upon my experiences with those events, I looked through a side of despair I have just now escaped. These tiny voices of my own mouth have made things much harder, caving me into the nagging vices of life. Not recognizing at all the satisfactions I could have held if I could have only helped myself when it was productive. And now I stand before the wall for my rash decision, and my regret is dawning upon me. Its been this way forever, or at least, as long as I’ve seen the way I have. It was a present even that final day upon my friend’s floor as I thought I heard her...she riddled her silent whispers into my eyes‘ doors. But what has coursed me towards swallowing the pills now dissolving in my body began in a transforming angst yesterday, in probably the saddest day of my life: I messed it all up, and I tried helping her, but I cared more than I knew she did, and I fear she merely used it as an excuse to get away from me. You said you would never forgive me, but if you read this memoir of a lonely guy; please forgive me, because I really did care for you even when you said you never wanted to speak to me. I was foolish...and now heartache for what I’ve done to you writes itself across every one of my features since the moment I hurt the one you loved because he hurt you. Now all I have is your hand in but my memory, and your tears that wet my own. I can never leave you behind like your own turning back. I’m sorry it’s over, and I’m sorry that you left me with such ease after you swore you wouldn't leave. You possessed me, and you were the only one who ever tried to set me free. But, even you couldn’t break the locks I have too late hammered off. I’ll miss you up to my final dream, and, maybe, you can feel amorous. Just know they will never care as I do for you. Never had I cried in my life. Even she said I didn’t even hold tears when I entered into the darkest of places, and the brightest. Not even at her death did I shed woe from my innards. And I believe last night, waiting to escape into my unreflected thoughts, I proposed the idea that has now become all too real in my belly. Things changed about my life so quickly, so rashly, so wrong as she walked away from us. And, suddenly, being a wallflower lost its perks to me. When I walked down my school’s hallway this morning all I gazed was a sadness equal to my own. A hidden despair that creased across everyone. It didn’t discriminate upon race, upon social structure or upon their clique. It was there waiting to spring upon them at a moment of recognizing their limitations; just as it did to me. It was a persona we have learned to hide from others, to bury it away in fear of what they might think. Rapping it up as unappealing drabble, it’s the seed I now open upon these pages. What if they could know these thoughts that slide away? What might have been done if they could have known this sheathed plague that’s killing us? We cannot escape. We’re all quietly dying, self-created suicides; why has it become so? The thing is; it seems I alone seem to know, who sees this as it is. Watching as it robs us of joy. I pass into an abandoned night as a single observer. I mourn as it takes each expansive life from its beholder, and it has driven me to brink upon the water. Maybe though its supposed to remain hidden...for the reason of what I felt when I crossed paths with it during today’s waking morning. Maybe this sadness should remain lost in my imagination; but I fear it’s too late for such ignorance to fathom me. And maybe that angst is something more than just the lesser feelings in life. A being that gives living something realer than even itself. Maybe the despair is our humanity, shaping us into one gigantic identity as individuals. And I’ve realized this knowledge is unavoidable to me...because I have thought about it for my entire life. And only now do I see how complex it all really is, and it chills me with revelation I wish I never had to produce. What if I had never undergone these questions that produce my somber awakening? And I have most certainly awoken to see anew. These philosophies of life and struggle now give me answers, and my previous theories tear with my new insights--if only I could have felt this sooner. The thoughts themselves though scare me, and I wish I could be abdicated from their hold. To have a surgeon crack my skull open and let me be asleep for once. But I know I cannot be cured from my contingent disease. I have condemned myself long ago to its creation, and just recently does it free me, erasing my child’s eyes to reality. And to think it was just today! It’s all happened so fast. Now I’m spread to the point in which I swallowed hard, to my steps into my room and the stealing of my father’s sleeping pills. Just before I had been assured to take action with my moving hand and chasing tongue. Of the few friends that I hold dear, two connect lips with each greeting and moment they are together as we, the others, watch their content attachment. Upon the cold ride home they sat before me, their book-bags thrown beneath their feet as they embraced in spirit and touch. Her blue hoodie was placed beneath his holding hand, their faces parted not as they showed caring comfort, and I could but watch from detached woe. I must have been overwhelmed with wallowing thoughts, for I saw not the beauty drenched out before my sight. Only a notion that I felt no love as their yearning hold laid out cinematically in front. And I chose to put still my beating heart in self-loathing of my place as I soothed the shadow that sat inside me. Regret now pushes up around me, no words or raining hopes can save me now. Too late I now see upon the free-side of that despair that punished me heavily. Beauty holds inside my slowing heart, and for the first time I feel satisfied. It’s as if I had been dead my whole life before my growing joy filled the mingled thoughts of me. I’ve awakened to find I haven’t lived at all beneath the weight of worry and agonizing fears that have never had any real relevance. Was this life I will soon not know a waste? I guess it’s not fair, but whatever; I should have approached things better. A joy in every possibility has revealed itself to me, and I feel terrible because I can’t experience it a bit more before I sway my eyes beneath my lashes. I might as well try to enjoy things even despite the fact it might certainly not exist anymore beyond. What are these feelings that hold me about my skin? Not a dread nor sorrow from curtains of my dooming sunset fill my heart. Will you pass too through this night? Or will an arising spring court your mind and notions? I still feel, I still care, even amid the loneliness when I sat in my room alone waiting for calls that would never come. This crossing isn’t much more than living, much more than being before.... Except that an invigoration replicates ecstasy inside my comprehension, something I wouldn’t have ever felt if I had not plunged into this choice. I don’t want to die, I really don’t. Not because I’m scared or because I fear the beyond or my ending life. But because I know there is something worthwhile after-all; and that’s because I am all my own, after all of this. I think my friend was trying to show me this, to make it so I could be my own before I left; unlike her. To replace the emptiness she parted through with a self-created infinity. Not with a calm or with a stare, just as her, but with a lasting piece to stretch out across the whole of the world. Can it be that this is truly the bitter end? Or is death merely my life gone without me? I hope you can be better than I, that you can grow as I shrink into obscurity. In months I’ll be unknown to the crowds, to the views and thoughts of those who never really saw me in the first place, but maybe you can fountain a depth that only you can bring forth. Good luck! And, before I stand out waiting for the ferryman among the countless others who have chosen just as I have.....know there is a beauty that requires your attention to notice. You can never look too close. Love, Phil -------------------- So, there it is. Again, make of it what you will. ~Phil

It's funny that you say that. Asimov and Huxley were big influences for me in this story.

Part V: Truth “Though it makes the unskillful laugh, it cannot but make the judicious grieve.” - Shakespeare Adam was fiercely contemplating his next move. He appreciated the fact that he was scared; nevertheless, he was thankful for the fact he was thinking clearly. “Not clear enough” he thought disappointingly. “What next” he wondered desperately. “I need to talk to somebody, who is normal.” “So, Adam…how do you like our planet?” came a voice from behind, as if answering his thoughts. For a second, he actually wondered if he said his words aloud. “Your planet?” Adam asked, without meaning to sound as if he was questioning some kind of authority. “And how are you Eve?” he asked, turning to Eve, and discounting Adam’s comment. He lightly touched her upper arm and said, “Will you go to your quarters Eve, while I acquaint your husband with our planet?” “Sure Redael” Eve answered obediently. And without even a glance toward Adam, she calmly walked away into the deep darkness of the cave. Redael was a very thin man of about 90, without any eyebrows. He had long, curly, bright white hair that went down almost to his waist. He was as pale as a ghost, and tall enough to intimidate anyone who came across him. Adam looked closer…the old man had big brown eyes. He looked kind enough to trust…and sane enough to believe. “Your planet?” Adam repeated. “No son” he said most kindly, “I said our planet. This is your new home Adam,” he said with a slight rasp in his voice. He had a soothing smile; the kind that puts you at ease in a dentist’s chair. A million things started going through Adam’s mind. He could make a run…hide somewhere. He could conceivably stow away on a transport to earth. “What about Eve?” he thought soberly. “There will be others” he concluded sincerely. “There are always others.” Or he could start shouting out the truth, whatever it is…but who would ever believe him? Especially if they find out about his past. But more than anything, he needed to know. He wanted to understand. “I say our planet” continued Redael, “because you…all of you will work toward the future of mankind.” He smoothed out his phonation even further. “Adam, we are building an infrastructure here. Something which generations of humans will make use of.” “I have…questions” replied Adam meekly. “I know” replied Redael patiently. “I will answer all your questions Adam. But I want to make it very clear that once I have extended that courtesy to you, you will join the others…” Before waiting for Adam to protest or ask any questions, Redael continued. “First of all Adam, you are not on the planet you think you are on.” “Not on Eden3Alpha?” “No, I mean not on the planet you think you are on. The paradise planet in your visions is the sister planet about 300,000 kilometers from here, called Daau-Lat. Adam, Daau-Lat is the last hope for humanity. In about twenty years, we shall start transporting human colonies to Daau-Lat to relieve the population and resource problems on Earth.” “Then what the hell are we doing here?” “Daau-Lat does not have any of its own resources; particularly the mineral deposits needed for humans, like chromium, calcium, fluorine - the stuff that we can’t possibly haul from Earth all the way to Daau-Lat. In the next 20 years, you and your comrades will mine enough resources that will last several lifetimes on Daau-Lat. “What gives you the right to drag me and my family here to slave?!” exploded Adam. He realized that his whole body was shaking. He didn’t want Redael to see that. He tried to sit down, but his anxiety was overwhelming him. He decided to speedily pace instead. As soon as he took the first step, half a dozen fulminating men appeared from nowhere. They made it very clear that Adam was not going anywhere. The power and the apparent government ties of Redael’s organization became obvious to Adam as he studied their uniforms. They were covered entirely in burgundy jumpsuits, made with the very expensive, and very unavailable mono-thermal material, blending in with the walls of the cave. Each was carrying the latest hardware money can buy, the M96 sub-machine guns. Adam was both impressed and intimidated. “Adam…you have to understand that you are the very first case that is even questioning us. I am very sorry that I don’t have the answers that you want to hear. The scope and purpose of this mission is higher than all of us combined. What you do here, will benefit billions of people for thousands of years. Can you understand the scope of this undertaking? Just one person can effect billions of people. And consider their generations…can you imagine it?” “You are asking for an undeliverable sacrifice” mumbled Adam. “Adam, the only reason I am even explaining the circumstances to you is out of the respect of what you are about to do. You only have one choice Adam…” Redael paused dramatically, then very slowly added, “we will re-deliver treatment to you, so you may join the mining team.” “You want me to submerge myself into some outlandish reality that you created? And want me to live my life in that?” Adam’s voice was now trembling also. He felt helpless…vulnerable…susceptible to a nightmare. “No no no Adam,” said Redael in a gentle but superior resonance. “Nobody is changing your reality. There is but one reality…only one truth…the reality of our existence in this universe…the only thing I am changing for you is your perception of that reality.” “You are imposing your perception on me” Adam retorted fiercely. “I am compelling you to accept the perception that is for the greater good.” “Greater good is relative Redael. Some might call your termination a greater good, relative to you being only one, and us, the workers, in thousands…” “Adam…it’s clear that you can’t even conceive the one great reality that we all serve. We are of no significance. We are just matter with souls.” “It’s easy for you to clatter on about some super existential theories, while we rot for decades.” “While you enjoy the life of your dreams…” his voice started to rise, “I will suffer for my lifetime…forever enduring the pain of seeing the reality through my eyes…” “Redael…listen…” Adam didn’t finish his sentence. He felt a prick on his neck. He suddenly realized with horror that one of Redael’s men had just administered the ‘treatment’ to him. “No no no” cried Adam, trying to shake off the fast acting drug. “No no no!” Adam was now shaking from side to side uncontrollably. “No no no” was all Adam could say. Faintly he heard the voice of Redael, “Remember son - there is, and always will be, only one true reality.” --------------- Six months had gone by. Adam could not believe his luck. Just a year ago, he was almost broke and could not bear to see another dawn. Now, he had everything he could conceive. A devoted circle of friends, bountiful and delicious food, lavish amenities, brilliant sunshine…although the last few months, he had felt the euphoric qualities of the almost unreal sunshine somewhat diminishing. But he dismissed that as his imagination, just like he did with the reducing taste of his food. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard something his mother used to tell him…”Be careful what you wish for…it just might come true…for a while…” The End

Part II: Trip “It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.” - Albert Einstein The Vigor ship was a disappointment. Adam had imagined a huge state-of-the-art arena, with an abundance of every conceivable high-tech gadget. At least that’s what it looked like in the pictures. The biggest irritation for Adam was when his expectations didn’t meet his reality. The ship had a very nice interior, small as it was, with shiny white walls, brown leather seats and nice cleaning facilities in the back, but overall, it was very plain. The 30 days ‘wake time’ was horrible. The existence in the cramped corridors and the sleeping, coupled with the stinginess of windows, sent Adam into a claustrophobic rage. He wasn’t the only one. After the first few days or so of congeniality, the closeness with the rest of the passengers and crew was annoying at best. But it was either their faces, or the darkness outside. There were no bright shining stars, no breathtaking views of the planets, not even a stray comet making its gleaming trail. Being put to cryosleep was a blessing. Cold…utter, absolute, unqualified cold. That’s all he felt. Adam tried to open his eyes in panic, but felt that something or someone was preventing it. He tried to jerk his arms up as a defense mechanism, but he could not move them. A wave of extreme terror swept over him. Then the cold faded…he faded…the next thing he remembered was much more pleasant. Part III: Eden3Alpha “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.” - Arthur Schopenhauer Bright lights made him squint. At first, he thought he was looking directly in at a light bulb being held close to him. Light didn’t equate to sunshine with Adam. He hadn’t seen the sun for months, even on Earth. When he realized that it was natural light, for the first time, he felt euphoric. The three suns of Eden3Alpha were directly staring him in the face. The warmth was irrefutable, even through the strict climate exclusion system of the ship. Adam looked around, still a little hazy from the long sleep. All the bed units were empty. He heard his name, and with some relief he spun around to see Eve. It knocked his socks off. He did not remember her looking so stunning. Her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her face, her eyes, her ears, even her ear lobes, were as if they were made to order. He saw perfection. “Oh my goodness…” he was almost gasping as he spoke, just realizing that his vocal chords will need a few hours to reacquaint. He tore off his glance from his wife, and took a quick look around. Everything, from the walls of the ship to the tiniest bend on his bed sheet, looked dramatically beautiful. It was as if the light of Eden3Alpha was wholly pure in nature. There was something flawless in the air. “You are the last one up sleepy head,” exclaimed Eve playfully. “Everybody has been up for at least a week.” “Is…is everything as fine looking as you?” Adam whispered smilingly in almost a horse undertone. “Usually I would be jealous by that,” smirked Eve. And then with a wide eye wondered look said, “but yeah…everything just looks so perfect!” Adam slowly got up with the aid of support erectors. In a few minutes, he would be able to walk on his own. The light still bothered him. The brightness of the light was not diminishing. “Hey Eve,” he called out, ”is it just my eyes adapting to the light, or is it really bright in here?” “Reeeealllll brrrrrright” she said good-naturedly. She stopped for a moment and picked up something from the floor, he couldn’t see what…he made a mental note to ask her about it later. Adam stepped down from the ship, and felt the solid yet very comfortable ground. The kind of feel you get when you are inside a cavern, where the soil is protected by the harshness of nature for thousands of years. The dirt was almost red and it had a very calming effect. “Maybe the nine months of sleep did me good” remarked Adam sincerely. “I mean, I haven’t even brushed my teeth and I feel like a million bucks!” From the corner of his eyes, he saw her pick up something from the ground again. “Yeah, I know what you mean Addy,” Eve responded. She was standing with her arms stretched, as if she was about to pick up something big and bulky. “That’s exactly how I felt. Come to think of it, everyone in the group commented on that.” She picked up something from the ground again. She spun around and directly looked into his eyes. “Addy…Addy…is this heaven or what?” She kept spinning. “Addy, you won’t believe the ocean - the bluest water. You won’t believe the weather - the purest wind. You won’t believe the garden - the sweetest smells. The prettiest birds, the tastiest foods, the kindest people, Addy…Addy…is this heaven or what?” She picked up something from the ground again. Adam wanted to say something. He opened his mouth. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the cryosleep, but nothing came out. Or perhaps it was the shock of the perfection of nature and humanity here; still nothing came out of his mouth. Not a peep, not a sound; not even a heavy breath. Something felt very wrong. He felt as if he was in a movie. A beautiful maiden spinning in circles around him, prattling Shakespeare-like phrases; an enchanting planet, filled with a smorgasbord of delightful amenities… He felt the ground again. Something felt very strange. He was wearing slippers, but they felt heavy. He recalled the specs of the planet. .93 Gs. His feet should feel lighter, not heavier. He felt heavier, as if he was wearing twice as many clothes. He looked at Eve again. “Now that is strange” he thought. He could have sworn she was wearing a beautiful pink summer dress. He remembered thinking how absolutely perfect the setting had been. But now she had on thick, drab overalls. His head started to spin. Then with a sinking heart he realized that the drugs may not be effective here. He quickly started to think of an excuse to head back to the ship, so he can replenish his system with the treatment. He was near panic. The drugs should have lasted at least a few more months. He forced himself to look up, hoping the sight of his wife might provide some reprieve from his predicament. What he saw stunned him. He stood there with his mouth open, struggling to breathe, as if he were a fish out of water. He could hear nothing, except the faint sound of Eve screaming, “Something is wrong with my husband, please somebody help!” He felt people around him. He felt them, but he could not see them. But what he saw kept his mind from processing anything else. There was no bright sunshine. There was no sparkling seaside. There were no happy people prancing around. There was no wind, no birds, no trees, and no mouth-watering food. He shakily looked down. He was wearing heavy boots. He felt himself around his chest. He was wearing a jacket made for the arctic. As he moved around, he noticed lights dancing around him. The origin of the light seemed to be coming from his head! He touched his head. He had a helmet on, the kind that coal miners wear. And it was cold…it was very cold. Now he could see people all around him. “Were they there before?” he found himself thinking. Everyone was dressed in either drab gray overalls, or wearing heavy gray jackets…as if working in mines. He found the strength to look around. He was in a cave! Part IV: Sights “Maybe this world is another planet’s Hell.” - Aldous Huxley The scene that met him was so unreal that he was sure that he was still in his cryosleep in the ship. Everyone was working at some manual task. The weaker humans were picking up what looked like small rocks and depositing the collection in a central location. While the stronger ones were using some kind of a tool, something like a heavy-duty hammer, to break down the walls of these caves. Or perhaps they were just loosening the rock-like substance for collection. “Addy…honey…say something” came a concerned voice from his right. He composed himself swiftly. He knew this was no delusion. This was very real. He had no clue as to the reasons behind this experience, but knew this was real. A different planet or not, his hallucinations were never this authentic. This was real. “I am fine” Adam responded, realizing the absurdity of the reality that he was presumably the only one in his right mind. How ironic he deliberated, on Earth he was never sure of his sanity and judgment, and now millions of miles from home, he was sure he was the most sane person here. How ironic. ”Listen, I know this sounds like a strange question…but what are you picking up?” “Flowers” she said, looking at him as if not quite believing that he just asked her an obvious question like that. “What did you think they were Addy?” “No,” Adam said, trying to search for words to cover himself. “I meant what kind of flowers. And where are you putting them?” “In the basket Adam,” she said almost coldly. He noticed that she used his formal name. That was always trouble; the kind that only a box of Godiva chocolates could solve. He was relieved the fact that she was more confused than angry. And why wouldn’t she be? He was asking wild questions, instead of trying to enjoy this ‘Eden’ with her. He had a sudden urge to cry out to her, to scream the truth to her. To ask her to look around and become conscious of the fact that she was in a cave, not in the open fresh air. That she was picking some awful rocks, not lovely flowers. That there was something horribly wrong here, and he was scared out of his mind. But he knew he couldn’t. No matter how much Eve loved him, no matter how much she respected him, the natural reaction would be to consider the agonizing truth that Adam was relapsing to his former self. That somehow the genetic treatment and the drugs never worked…and that was one reaction that he was not prepared to accept. What frightened him more than anything was the cause of it all. Was it natural? Had everybody gone mad? Was it a naturally occurring thing on Eden3Alpha? That didn’t seem probable. Not everyone could be affected in the same manner. The alternative was even more terrifying. That someone…or something was responsible for this quandary. “But why? But why? But why?” he kept asking himself. The why bothered him more than the how. To be continued...

This is a short story I wrote a few months back, and I want to know what everyone thinks. I have a collection of my work that I'm going to try and get published. I think I'll first try at self-publishing on www.lulu.com, and then go to an actual publishing company if that works out. Well anyway...here it is. I'm going to post it in parts -- the parts that the story was originally divided into. The Perpetual Optimist Part I: Poes “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” - Oscar Wilde “Rain…unrelenting, endless rain” thought Adam despairingly, as he gazed outside in the dismal twilight. It had been raining now for 84 days straight. He almost longed for snow. At least snow didn’t make that dreadful noise. It hadn’t snowed in Chicago for almost six years now. He took his eyes away from the window a bit, partly to look in the mirror, and partly to get a chance to look at his bright room, so he could accurately envision Eden3Alpha, the miracle planet three light years from Earth. A planet full of sunshine and beautiful beaches, his next home. Adam Poe and his wife were still reeling from the fact that they were two of the 36 people chosen to settle in the new colony. For the last three years, the government of the Supreme Continent has been sending people there to settle and colonize the planet. But something about the whole thing bothered Adam. Once there, no one ever wanted to come back to Earth. Combined with the fact that it took almost nine months to get there, even using the Vigor Drive, shooting the capsule into space at over 1.2 million kilometers per second. Or the fact that the Vigor Drive didn’t activate until it reached Ophelia, one of the 18 moons of Uranus, adding at least 30 days of “wake travel.” Or even the fact that the company that ran the whole operation had some very questionable records. Starco Inc. was the first company to send civilians into space that required a month or more of cryosleep…and the first company to lose two ships in a row, and over 300 souls, in the cold blackness of space. But the fact was that the planet was truly as close to paradise as humanly possible; and this was their only chance to live the life of a dream. He forced himself to look into the mirror. Adam was a rather tall man, about 6’2”, with short, dirty blonde-almost brown hair and bluish-green eyes; fair skin and a pretty well built figure. He still could not believe that there were no traces of the scars on his forehead from the treatment. He looked closer, just to make sure that he was not seeing things… Seeing only what he wanted to believe. Genetics had made some incredible leaps since 2124, almost 60 years ago. But he still had to be treated with powerful drugs, to make him normal. “Normal,” he grinned, half sarcastically, half with genuine joy. All his life he wanted to be normal, and now that he was, he had doubts. He knew medicine was not perfect…there was no perfection…only nature was perfect; the kind of nature that kept Adam going. All he could think about was the impending honeymoon on Eden3Alpha - perhaps the only thing that kept him sane. “Honey,” came a female voice. “Honey, you up there? Dinner is ready.” “Ahh the sweet shrill of my sweetie,” Adam thought smiling…”sweet shrill”…he laughed aloud at the contradiction, realizing that his subconscious probably crammed the term into his mind. “Everything ends…every love, every perfection, every…” His thoughts were interrupted by another, a bit more impatient, call by his wife, “Honeeey, you coming?” “Oh yeah…hey Eve, what are we eating tonight?” “Felixicous…with your favorite sauce.” “Ymmmm”, he cried out. “Be right down”. Yuckkkk is what he meant. Felixicous…just another word for scrambled cats. Adam didn’t mind helping the world food shortage by eating anything that the human body can endure…but only if he knew what parts of the cat he was eating. And only if his wife knew why the sauce was his favorite. The sauce was the only reasonable way he could swallow the food. “There you are,” came a voice from behind Adam. He found himself looking at a half decent, 5’7”, 135 pounds of a very kind person. She had long brown hair and a very voluptuous body. She was 33, but looked more like 36...so Adam thought. But he still found her to be extremely attractive. Perhaps it was her undying faith in everything he did, or the fact that she never even mentioned his genetic deficiency. “What’s wrong Addy?” she said in a loving way as she reached out to touch his head, as if he were a small pet. Not that there were any pets…everything had to be eaten…the law demanded it. “Just thinking,” responded Adam. “You think too much,” Eve said sardonically. “About the trip, I was just thinking…” Eve knew the drill. “Okay, what about the trip? Addy you take the most beautiful thing and turn it into some kind of an internal thinking war. This is the chance of a lifetime! Can you imagine a better honeymoon, then a new beginning? For our lives…for our future…what can possibly be troubling you about this?” “You never wondered…wondered about the people,”Adam chose his words carefully. “I mean, nobody has ever come back to Earth.” “That could be the biggest reason to go there Addy!” Eve said impatiently. “Why in the world would you want to go back to Earth, where everybody is trying to get out?” “The perpetual optimist,” Adam thought. But that comes easy, when you can dream - think like a normal human being - to immerse oneself into an alternate reality, a substitution of reality. Or call it daydreaming, or planning, or even imagining - if you will. But to be able to do it consciously, and be able to ascend out of it, by nothing more than the power of ones will. It was different for Adam. His immersion into the alternative reality was quite against his will. It all started, when he was 21 -- twelve years ago. On certain sleepy nights, an eerie feeling of disquiet would envelop him. And seconds later, he would hear a clear voice…just a plain voice, as if the person was speaking inches from his ears. Words like, “the work is done,” or “take this over there.” Mundane, dull, and ordinary words… Words from nothingness, which meant nothing. As the years followed, the voices turned to visions. They would appear suddenly. He would have just closed his eyes, and the person would be standing in front of him, as clear as day. Just a person…no monster, no fiend, no ogre…just an ordinary person. He could never make out who the person was, or even the sex of the person…just a person. There was something very lonely about this. But even these aberrations were tolerable. Then one day, all hell broke loose for Adam. For the first time in his life, he saw the visions…and he heard the voices in the middle of the day…while he was wide awake! These anomalies were attributed to a faulty gene, which adversely affected his cognitive function. It was a sporadic form of genetic fault, the kind that would not show up as a strong genetic link of the forefathers. But this also suggested that there was a high probability that the environmental factors may play a big part in his defect. His condition was well under control, first with genetic therapies, treatments that actually rewrote fragments of genetic code in his cells, and second with the help of viral drugs. This is the part that bothered Adam the most: he was a perfectionist. The kind that knew exactly what shirt best complemented his tie, and who tried to match the clothes in his closet by color sequence, and who would try to align a television perfectly parallel to a wall, and who also even had to have his plate at the dinner table in perfect symmetry with his body as he was eating. He knew that there was no perfection, but the underlying and uncompromising pursuit of perfection drove him. And taking the drug for the rest of his life dampened the ultimate ache for perfection, because the viral drugs seep through the human immune system, straight into the blood stream, which made him imperfect. He would never let anyone know about the drugs. Not even Eve. “And besides,” Eve continued, “you were the one who was so excited just an hour ago that you couldn’t stop talking about it.” “True,” Adam mused. “Make a deal with you okay?” Eve talked away, seemingly without stopping for a breath. “You stop thinking, and I will stop talking.” “Deal,” Adam lied through his teeth. He knew that the opportunity they had was priceless, billions of people would give up their lives to have their children grow up on a ‘first world’ planet: a planet where the humans have a second chance to design the infrastructure for a better humanity. But he could not stop wondering if his forefathers had essentially the same thoughts, when they set foot on the Americas. He could not stop thinking… He could not stop the feeling of dread. To be continued...

It's probably because some members over the years have had their accounts deactivated because of a lack of activity, some members may have been banned, accounts were deleted on request, etc. The numbers remain of how many members there have been (not how many are registered) for records though. It happens all the time.