The Space, the Magician, and the Man of Science
by Jon Rappoport
February 12, 2015
“You have to understand that there are dimensions. In the dimension we call the world, a person needs logic. He needs it badly. He needs to be able to analyze and take apart things and put them back together again. He needs to spot flaws in reasoning and multiple deceptions. He needs to recognize formal arguments and trace them all the way through from assumptions to conclusions. But in the dimension where creative power operates, where things happen that most certainly impact this world, all bets are off. He needs to understand and experience and launch a kind of vast freedom for his own imagination that takes him entirely out of the realm of being a normal person, a foolish and provincial “realist,” a mechanically thinking human. He has to go light-years past that. He has to stop pretending he is some kind of scientist. In other words, he has to stop burying his own power. Two dimensions, two capabilities.” (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)
This is a very strange story, my friends, but don’t worry, the Realist, the Man of Science will come along and try to put things right.
The hard-headed Man of Science now represents the human race. He guards against the intrusion of odd and foolish things, odd ideas. He keeps the planet on its course into the future. He has a brain of tempered steel. He is what every child eventually wants to be.
Now to the story:
The space was too small.
So he (the magician or someone very much like a magician) made it larger.
It was too much outside, so he added space inside.
There were nooks and crannies where matter of some kind was ruling, so he made more space there too, which kicked out the sticky matter.
He kept looking. He found more and more areas where there was no space, and he made space there.
Things become old very quickly, he decided, but space didn’t become old because it wasn’t a thing.
That was good.
He didn’t want old. He knew old too well. It was boring and repetitive.
He made a large chameleon and put it on a rock, where it kept changing colors, but this was uninteresting after a few minutes, so he turned the chameleon into space.
He turned himself into space.
He stayed space for a long time. It seemed like a long time. Then he folded up the space and put it in his pocket.
In his former life, he thought he wanted to be a button on a dress hanging in a closet in an attic. He finally tried it. It worked, but there was only a brief moment of satisfaction. After that, there was dust and stale air and faded memories.
As he was about to shrug off the persona of the button, he heard large clumping sounds, and he knew the Realist, the Man of Science (MoS), was trudging up the stairs to the attic.
The MoS came into the attic, clumped over to the closet, opened the door, and stared at him (the button).
“What are you doing?” MoS said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stop acting like a psychotic.”
He (the button) said: “How is it that you can see me?”
The MoS said, “I’m trained to spot illusions. I hunt them down and I reject them.”
“To preserve humanity.”
The button laughed.
“Don’t laugh at me,” the MoS said. “I’m a serious person, an investigator. I have a hard job.”
“I can see that,” the button said. “You look tired. You should go home get some rest.”
The MoS shook his head. “Not until I neutralize you.”
“Of course. That’s what I do. I grind things down to their fine constituent particles.”
The button said, “And in the end? What are you left with?”
“Things as they are,” the MoS said.
“Which is what?” the button said.
The MoS sighed. “Let’s get on with it,” he said, and removed a small drill from his pocket.
“You’re going to grind me down?” the button said.
“Of course. You’re an anomaly. You don’t fit the Theory of All Things.”
At that point, the button vanished and became, once again, the magician (or someone very much like a magician). Invisible.
The MoS shook his head. “I’ll find you. I’ll keep searching and hunting, and I’ll reduce you down to constituent particles. I’m like a machine that never turns off. I’m the Wizard of Is. I speak for all of humanity. I secure What Is and eliminate the leftovers.”
The magician grinned. “What you call the leftovers are infinite. We’re not just table scraps.”
“You don’t understand,” the MoS said. “If it takes blowing up the world to get rid of the anomalies, we’ll do it.”
But the next thing the MoS did was scream.
The magician turned him into…
Very big space.
The MoS thought he was exploding. He tried to stop the event.
But alas, he couldn’t.
It seemed to him he was everywhere.
He was seeing, now, all anomalies. They twinkled like stars. They sat like moons. They vibrated. They zoomed. They took off and they landed. They went out and came back. They filled in blanks and made objects into blanks. They painted murals as wide as solar systems. They ran along cloudbanks. They nullified clock time. They tore curtains away, revealing emotions he never knew existed. They stood like giant pillars in cemeteries where no bodies were buried. They bent cities like branches in the rain and wind. They sat in restaurants and ate sandwiches. They jumped into cars and drove on highways. They married and had children. They died and came back. They stacked kings and princes and presidents like cordwood. They ate apples and plums. They walked along country roads at dawn and saw hours stretching out forever.
“W—e—l—l,” the MoS said. “W—h—a—t i—s t—h—i—s?”
“Enjoy,” the magician said. “This is never-was and couldn’t-be, all the time.”
The MoS was silent.
He was remembering who he was before he was born. So simple, so obvious.
Why had there been a problem? Problems were machines. They were functionaries in a police state. They were vaporous guard dogs surrounding a castle of melting sugar.
The sense that he was vibrating at some frequency (which he realized had been with him his whole life) went away.
He was beyond vibrating.
He was above vibrations.
He was no longer rowing a boat across the lake of his existence.
Gods and religions and sciences and many other notions went away.
He took a step in (his own?) space, and joy bubbled up and filled his mind.
“From here on out,” he thought, “……..I’m….free.”
“Well,” he said to no one, “pretty soon I’m going to hear the sound of the dome over the whole universe cracking.”
He looked down. There was a city far below him.
Mobs were in the streets. They were looking up and shouting and screaming:
“Evil! Terrible! Godless! Horrible! Kill him! I hate you! %*H(^)G!”
The furor built to a massive pitch.
He kept watching.
It seemed years were passing.
Finally, the storm of anger began to subside.
Now the people were weeping and pounding the street and lying prone and some were dropping into a deep sleep.
He kept watching.
It seemed a century was passing.
Then…a few of the people rose and began to walk, shrugging off shrouds of morose anguish.
Finally, he heard…one person laugh.
It rang like music.
He knew what would happen next. He knew that the centuries would carry less and less weight, and the train of time would branch off, dissatisfied with its own path, and seek other outlets.
He could see the dead eyes of war on a corpse dissolving into an underground aquifer. Light was coming around the corner walking briskly, on its brisk way to close out the account at the bank of things as they are.
He said, “I’m not a machine anymore. I never was.”
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.