Ariadne's Thread

The world is filled is desolation and destruction. Everywhere you go you will find poverty and decay; a world so bleak will never last very long. Its because of all the power, all the hunger to be on top that our world becomes what it is; it is because of all the world's greed that makes us what we are. Today is like any other, it is filled with nefarious tunes of hate and despair ringing over the hollow lands of our planet earth. Wherever you go, wherever you travel today, there will be more deaths, more teen pregnancies, more racism, more of everything, and not enough of what we need: love, harmony, unity, words that are but mere strangers in this world of ours. Today is like any other, not different, not special, and especially not forgiving for the weak and foolish who fall beneath the feet of their masters. Who are the masters of our world? Are they the rich, the famous? I think not, for these poor folks wallow in the same guilt and shame that most of us share and feel. Are the masters the world leaders, or the great world pretenders? I think not. I never could believe what I now know; if it wasn't for my awakening; I still would be in the same eternal bliss that we all are born with, live with and eventually die with. If it wasn't for my awakening, my sight, my vision, I wouldn't know what I now know.

I am different from you, perhaps a master or a slave it depends on who is around. One could say that I, along with the others, now control the very thread of human preservation, but who am I to say?

There are things now that I didn't know, but I know now, that have changed my life and resurrected my hope in the once dying human race. All creatures no matter how great or small come to an end and finally slip into oblivion. This was the destiny of the human race, the path that were to follow; we have destroyed earth, destroyed each other, raped the land, raped each other, our masters wanted us to pay for what we have done, so they unleashed incurable diseases, incurable threats of war, incurable minds that only though of one thing: ultimate world domination. Our fate was to follow many of the species we helped kill. We would live forever in the history books of time and sink deeper into the whole stratosphere of out meager existence. We would never be again, living or dead; the facilities that held our souls, our records of the time spent on earth, world be erased just like a computer file that was placed next to a magnet, and our memories would be held by the remnants of our tired old planet earth. The very planet that we help to its demise would hold a silent vigil that would give light to the fact that we once lived. If another creed of beings would pass by earth on the way to another destination, our ruins would remind the universe that humans once dwelled here and that we caused our own demise. Earth would be a painful metaphor for a race that once had so much promise, but let it all slip away. Our obliteration would be another being's tour sight, just like the concentration camps in Germany, species from all over the galaxy would come to see our reality. We would no longer be, alive or dead and this was or ill fated doom brought on by us, as a race, and ordained by our silent masters.

So how I am different? Well I didn't know all this until a few days ago when the vision came to me and awakened me, revived me, and showed me the way to my salvation. You may want to stop reading this now because your curiosity may be damped by the horrific events that I am about to reveal to you. If you are of a weak heart, or a shallow mind, leave, and continue living your life the way you always have been, and forget that you ever met me, saw me, or ever heard my voice of sight. Forget and move on to another day, another destiny and wipe me away from your mind.

What is it to be different? How would you define diversity among the human race? Would you base it on colors? Or beliefs? Perhaps, but once you learn what I am about to tell you, your whole view of the world will change. People are not broken down into groups by any of the conventional means we are used to categorizing people by. To our masters, there are no different races, colors, religions, factions, nations, mentalities, no this is only a trivial dissection. The true roots of out diversity comes from our genes. Yes, as funny as it may seem, our genes are the most important aspect or our originality. Not all genes are important, however, there are only about 8 genes that are important in out cultural multiplicity. These genes are hidden in most, but in the eight elite, their true potency shows through. These genes, when combined, would make the ultimate human being, one strikingly different from any one ever born before. This being would carry the torch that would pave the way for a new race of creatures that would be known as the metahumans. We evolved from apes, metahumans would evolve from you. Charles Darwin once said that species survive by being the best that they can be; surviving all forms of environmental strain such as weather and disease.

That's what the eight elite are, the fittest of our species, and we will give birth to a new mankind, one that will not have any of the avaricious qualities of its predecessors; it would be the closest thing to what we now call perfection.

This race would live and breed in a new world and begin a virgin trek into the world of evolution and beyond. Metahumans would be the masters new play thing, and the eight elite would spawn these creatures by giving them the eight "metagenes" that they now posses. So if you ask me what makes a person different from another? Well I will simply respond that it is nothing that you can even begin to imagine.

At first humans had no lineage to speak of because the masters sought to punish us, but one of them remind the rest of our potential. This one spoke forth and reminded the rest of our master that they did have the eight elite that could be saved from these scourges and wraiths that were know ravaging the land. If these eight elite could be salvaged and breed, the race of being that our master once hoped for would come true. This intrigued our masters, and a compromise was given: save the eight, but destroy the rest. "No matter how much the pestilent beg and plead for mercy, make them pay for their crimes against their creators, make them pay for their sin against their masters. Make storms arise that will tear at theirs souls; make death become an over used term; make psychic winds blow that will destroy their fragile minds; let the underlings pay for their crimes against nature; make them see their own wicked reality.

This is where I come in. I always knew that I was different, but I never knew how different I was until I opened my eyes and saw the truth of our existence for the very first time. I saw for the first time our reality.

What is it to be able to see? Scientists and Physicians have fought vigorously to try to describe the various pathways of the normal human eye, but they have now idea of what it is to actually see. Most of us are blind to the realities that go on around us, even though we claim to know what it is to see, we look the other way or pretend not to hear that scream in the alley. So what is it to actually see? I have always been able to see things that no one else could see. I could see the realities and the brutality that now envelops our race. I could see people's inner spirits and the aura that surrounds them. It was strange to walk down the street and see it lit with people's inner functional workings and mechanics. Like lifeless Japanese Lanterns, I saw people's images of doom float across our terrestrial heaven.

It was like seeing everyone naked, personal, up close and real; for each time someone new came around, that person's soul was exposed to me like a vagrant in the cold, bitter wind of winter. I knew people before meeting them, I could see all the hidden realities that dwelled in the inner being of all our lives. Things that we don't want to talk about and things that nobody knows. This was the prison sentence of my life; behind bars; behind thin walls, behind paper thin walls, I could see the essence of your soul; it all took toll; behind the window of my own pain, I existed with sight beyond sight and saw our destiny. But now I have been given a pardon, and my consciousness now means the propagation and survival of my race. I am the only one that knows what it is to see. Only I have the gift of sight. Only I can be the essential eyes that make up the ocular cavity of the new race of humans. Only I can truly see all that is around me. Only I can see our reality.

I always saw inner truths, including my own, and what I saw horrified me. When I looked around at the collage of people that inhabit this earth, It was a mosaic blur of rainbow colors. People are not what they are on the outside, or even the inside. Normal people are essentially a genetic combination of these rainbow colors. Some might be green and yellow; other blue and red. The eight elite are all white, signifying their purity. What does this mean? I have no clue, no wisdom, no knowledge, no ideas, no, know, nothing, nothing but sight:

The harsh pattern of death; the rash outbreak of homelessness and poverty; the power of deceit; the power of failure; the never ending battle never ends, until the day of the apocalypse. Guns, teens, babies, coke; words will no longer be associated with each other; birth, death, life, humans; words will no longer associate with each other. That day is near, don't you fear, your pain will end soon. The waves will abolish you from this world; you will no longer exist. Farewell. A race that had hope, but gave it up for greed. A race that had all of its resources right before their finger tips, but gave it up for pleasure and luxury. A race that destroyed itself with war; killed each other with hate; shaving their minds for some twisted cause; a race that was destroyed by their own shadows; their own magnetism; their own affection with the devil. A race, now gone. Farewell.

These traits, when combined, form a pattern and make the eight of us elite. We are special; we will survive; we are the chosen; who chooses? Our God? There is no God. Who chooses the recessive from the dominant? God? Who chooses those that subsist through blitzkriegs and holocausts? The plagues and wraiths swarm across our lands consuming all; eradicating all; throwing out the trash; open your eyes and see our destiny; these monstrosities know no limit to their infinite destruction. Who will be next? It could be one of us, or one of you. Which would you choose, now given the information that you know. Will you let the strong survive? Or will you let the weak carry the human torch into the fiery pits of hell? If it came to you or your child, who would you choose? Death for your child who has never lived one day? Or you, who has lived a lifetime? Death, who would you choose to die? The eight of us are your children, your only hope for persisting throughout time. We are the ones that can save you from the bliss that surrounds humans us a race. Look into the giant mirror of life and decide. Choose carefully, you only get one shot, one chance to make it right. Would you choose preservation or destruction? Limitation or infinity? Your child can carry one your name, but no one will remember your name when we all lie in a silent grave of earth and doom. No one will remember you as our world is destroyed, demolished by the wraith of our masters. Choose, between death and rebirth, its up to you..see your reality

Now you know what I am; now you know what you are. Soon all will see.....

There won't be any signs. There won't be any warnings or any way to look back. There won't be any way of turning back the clock. Our fate is already threaded into the cloth of our time; no one can change that now.

I have sight. I can see you as you really are. I see nothing but pain and suffering, soon that will be all over. Wipe your tears and relax, the pain will soon be gone.

The strong survive by mating us much as they can and destroying other weaker species offspring to ensure that those degenerate genes do not continue further into future generation's blood. Animals, Mammals, Plants and other species viscously kill off their competitor's offspring to guarantee that their genetic line will persist; this is survival; this is no less than sheer brilliance; this is animal behavior. Are we not animals? Are we not descendants of apes? Are we even human? Look at us. Our race is floundering, while the subservients of our species donates their feeble, puny, genes to our bloodline. Is that human? Is that enabling the strongest to survive? The poverty stricken are in the greatest numbers in our population; the under class survives while the upper class become smaller and smaller; evaporating from existence like water on a hot summer day; boiling away our best and brightest so the unsubstantial survive. Humans have adopted the survival of the weakest and not the strongest. How long can our race go on? How long will the strong, slowly slipping into the abyss, survive? We are the last hope, the choosen eight. Why us and not you? The answer lies hidden deep within the recesses of the annals of time and creation; these answers cannot be understood by humans now and perhaps forever. We are the ones; perhaps the luck of the draw; we did not choose this we only have the power to tolerate the scourge that will ravage our planet. Soon, the prophecy will take place.