FLIGHT TO CONCH ISLAND

The sound of air rushing over the fuselage is having a nostalgic effect on me as I gaze out through my oculus on the private jet. The infinite blue beyond is captivating, as the sea reflects the sky to where they meet on the far horizon. The gray northern skies are receding quickly now.

We had taken off from Stewart International, more than an hour ago, under a somber sky. The awesome view from the Embraer Phenom 300E is mesmerizing as we fly amidst the bluest skies I’ve seen in quite a while. The cabin monitor indicates our cruising speed is 975 km/h at an altitude of 40,054 feet.

The Bermuda Triangle is not shown on the map, but we will be passing through it at some point along our route. I recall a few of the strange tales I’ve heard, that took place within the triangular zone, where lots of things have mysteriously disappeared.

My love of flying often gives me a chance to soar, both physically and metaphorically. I’m thrilled with the floating sensation of gliding on the wind like a bird, and I’ve had a glider pilot’s license for many years.

I settle back into the leather seat, and recline a bit, as I let my thoughts drift amidst a deep, cloudless sky. It will be a chance to be unplugged from the electronic network that keeps eating at our brains. We could all benefit if we spent more time within the natural world, to realign our beings in harmony and equilibrium.

Gazing over the textured, azure sea, I am looking forward to the moment I will be swimming in it. But I am still in the midst of processing the recent events that brought me to this point.

Yesterday at 8AM, while enjoying a steamy mug of coffee, I received a text. It was an invitation back to Conch Island, in the Bahamas. Anything that would get me away from the crazy weather was most inviting. The whole country was experiencing a dramatic shift in meteorological patterns, and a greater intensity of storms. I was ready to soak up some pure tropical sunshine.

I first visited Conch Island–a small overgrown, sliver of rock and sand–last year, quite unexpectedly. I had never heard of the place, why should I have? I imagined that we would land at a busy airport, not a private island. It was just another one of dozens like it, scattered throughout the region. At least it was made to look that way. Everything had been shrouded in mystery and enigma, which I am still trying to unravel.

I continue searching into the blue expanse, looking for the islands; none are visible yet. So, I close my eyes and doze off for a while to pass the time more quickly. When I awake an hour has passed, but I didn’t dream. Sure, I feel a little anxious, who wouldn’t, if they were in my place? Recently some unusual events blurred the lines of reality, leading me to anticipate it will get even weirder.

Little did I know how soon that will happen. The flight monitor indicates arrival in three-quarter’s of an hour. So, I walk forward to the pantry to make espresso, and get two biscotti. This time, I sit in another seat, but the view is much the same, a sparkling sea of blue.

The rich, delicious espresso pairs well with the dark chocolate-dipped biscotti; I try to make them last, as I glance through a starboard portal. I think I see the Florida coastline in the distance.

I keep gazing out the window, while anticipating my next visit on Conch Island. Puffy white clouds begin to appear, indicating land is closer now. Then the cloudscape suddenly changes as thunderheads grow dramatically before us. Within a few moments the plane is engulfed within a vaporous cloud. It is a monster progenitor of lightning. Ominous flashes are sparking all around, as we stay our course through the menacing thunderclouds.

The sudden turbulence jolts the plane severely, as the seatbelt signs start flashing, so I buckle up. I finish the espresso, wrapping the cup in a napkin, and jam it into a cupholder to keep it from going airborne.

The turbulence increases as our route through darkening clouds is illuminated by flashing lightning, crackling with thunder, putting on a display of ecstatic electricity, like some rock stars’ wild light show dream.

I have flown through storms before and seen lightning strike the plane, yet lived to tell the story. But this time it is even more intense. I become quite concerned as we forge onward, water droplets streaking over the ports.

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder penetrates deeply, as the sound of our engines die. I hold my breath as we fall into our final glide, then let it out quickly. I take another, trying not to panic, hoping to survive.

The captain keeps on course, notifying me we are picking up some additional passengers. Crazy I think, what’s next?

My phone rings! At a time like this? It is C.I. services. What else can I do? So, I say “hello?” The voice just responds, “Put the headpiece on, now. We’re looking forward to seeing you soon. Enjoy the rest of your flight.” I reply with trepidation, “I think I’m about to die!”

I shake my head in disbelief, reaching into the seat pocket in front of me, where I’ve stowed the pouch containing an artifact I acquired quite recently. It originated from my grandmother’s line of Scandinavian ancestry. It was found in a wooden box, hidden for decades beneath floorboards in the attic of our summer, lakeside cottage. Most of the mysteries within it are still unanswered.

The plane’s descent increases as I put the ancient head piece on. The sacred relic has been passed down through the ages, from before the time of Vikings. The piece is made of some type of leather with an unfamiliar grain. Three time-polished domes of silver, gold and iron, about a half-inch in diameter, stand out from the intricate details of workmanship finely tooled into the leather. Time-worn runic symbols, now faint after so many years of wear reveal secrets, translations still unclear.

By some internal mechanism, the band begins to tighten until it is quite snug. I touch the three domes in sequence, silver, gold, then black. If anyone other than myself puts the headpiece on, it immediately starts to tighten, slowly. And a booming voice is heard telepathically within the wearer’s brain saying, “You are not the inheritor! You have five seconds to remove the headpiece before your skull is crushed.” Thankfully, this is not the case for me.

I learned this the first time I put it on, when I heard the voice speak to me telepathically, intoning: “This moment has been your destiny from before your time of birth into this incarnation, during a period of planetary alignment. Now it occurs again. You are the true inheritor of Kronos Six, your bio-signature set. Now the Hexad is complete, Omekron is once again united, for the first time in a thousand years.

This is what I’ve been puzzling over ever since the moment I first received the ancient relic, less than a week ago. What does this strange object really do? What is this Hexad and Omekron all about? Whoever arranged this trip told me to bring the headpiece, so they must know I had inherited it.

The sound of the wind shredding over the fuselage begins to lessen; the view outside grows very dark within the angry clouds. I feel the plane pulling up, as I’m pressed down in my seat. There is a jolt, which feels like the plane bumped against something underneath. Then as the light begins to brighten, I see we are in a large hangar of sorts.

Two other planes are parked in the distance with people walking around, moving cargo. I just stare out the port in amazement at what is happening, wondering where in the world we are. My pulse is racing, my imagination starts spiraling. I’m glad I didn’t die. I am half-expecting little green men to show up any minute. . .

The captain’s calm voice comes over the PA system, advising me to stay seated, as we will be getting underway shortly. How could this be normal? We used to love traveling to many interesting places, experiencing cultures, and their cuisine, and participating in colorful celebrations, but this flight is particularly unnerving.

I keep an eye on activities around the other aircraft and see a robotically-driven cargo trailer heading this way. It is loaded with waterproof pelican containers along with an assortment of other bags and gear.

Following behind is a group of five, who all appear to be tourists. The three men and two women dressed in white linen suits, tropical shirts, and floral skirts are just walking along, much like everything is normal. They seem to have their focus on me though, and I pull back quickly after making eye contact. My heart leaps as I try to appear calm; inside, feelings stir anxiously. I hear baggage being loaded behind me in the hold.

The captain comes aft, opening the plane’s door as the stairs lower into place. He nods to me and gives me the thumbs-up sign, as if everything is fine. I am still in a state of shock, trying not to show it! I find out later, the pilots are robots, apparently quite good at what they do.

The two women are first to board, taking their seats, one on my left, the other in front. I am in the aft starboard seat. They all acknowledge me with a smile and a nod, giving me a feeling these are not any ordinary tourists.

The forward seats face aft, so I can see two of the men clearly: one seems to be in his eighties, the other around twenty perhaps, the third somewhere in the middle.

The door closes and everyone buckles up, as the engines start up again and the plane begins to move. I think it is odd the co-pilot never gives the usual safety drill.

Suddenly, it is as if the bottom drops out from under us and we are in free-fall, close to zero-G. Then the thrust of the engines propels us forward rapidly. Once again, I can breathe, as the sky and sea reach out, touching a deep blue infinity.

I notice the time on the plane’s monitor. It is off, still less than an hour to arrival on the island. Where is the missing half-hour? Does anyone else notice? When I made my espresso, the ETA was in forty-five minutes, well, it’s thirty-four now. I don’t think I’m imagining this, but maybe it’s just a computer error.

We’re in the hangar for around thirty minutes. Something just doesn’t make sense. I look at the others and find all eyes on me. It is giving me the shivers up-and-down my spine.

I notice they are wearing headpieces similar to mine. Their voices sound telepathically in harmonic unison. I hear them call me by another name, “Jan,” who–as I later learn–was my first ancestor to wear the ancient headpiece. It was bestowed upon him by a Seer of Telephia.

I turn to face the woman on my left. Her eyes are deep, limpid cobalt pools with an air of wisdom in them. Her jet-black hair is streaked with purple braids, along with gold and silver threads intertwined with crystal beads.

Our minds are linked telepathically. I notice that the others now seem to be in a trance.

“I am known as Vajna,” she says internally.

“I can hear you clearly now,” I reply. “Am I able to communicate telepathically because I am wearing the headpiece? It is so much better hearing you this way. The sound of the engines seems not to interfere.”

“Your headpiece enables you to communicate with others who are not telepaths. I was born with the ability, and can speak to you telepathically, whether you are wearing the piece or not. Kronos Six, is embedded with your ancestral genome and encoded in conjunction with the Akashic records. During our stay on the island you will be instructed further as you learn how to use the ancient instrument beneficially and creatively.”

“OK. . . I say, with a sense of bewilderment.”

I’m sure the look on my face is amusing, but she never lets on. Just moments ago I thought I was plunging to my death, now I’m going to classes on the island? I wanted coconut rum drinks, to hang out in a hammock, and to snorkel around the reefs, taking photos of the fish in many colors that no one knows the names of.

“You don’t need to concern yourself, there will be plenty of time for other pursuits. We believe the knowledge you will acquire will compel you to make some significant changes in ways that will benefit your unbalanced world, teetering now on the brink of disaster.”

I am feeling something stirring within and it seems vastly important, only I don’t have a clue as to what it is. Time will tell, I think to myself.

“Vajna, can you read my mind?” I query, feeling a little worried, as at times I prefer to keep certain thoughts to myself.

“Yes, I can. But only if you give me permission. Can you imagine if you could always hear everyone’s thoughts?”

“I think that would be quite unsettling, to say the least.”

I am quite relieved to know about permissions and a code of ethics in regard to mind-reading. But I’m truly amazed, feeling so natural with telepathy. Yet there is something about it that seems oddly familiar.

“All your ancestors before you developed their telepathic abilities, and you’re picking up on the morphic resonance. They wrote and illustrated many volumes of books, you saw some of their works at the temple library.

“We are aware of your first experience after receiving the headpiece. You placed it on your head as instructed, and activated it by sequence. Then you watched the rest of a movie and fell asleep.”

“How do you know that? I saw none of you there at the temple of Terra, or uh, the Hyperboreans. I woke up in my dream somewhere far away, in a temple with no doors. My feet were freezing, running around on the cold stone floors. I was looking for a way out, back to home, where my other body was asleep. There were three scholars looking at old books and scrolls, but I left them with puzzled looks. They didn’t respond to anything I asked. Finally, I found some cushions and laid them out and was able to fall asleep. I awoke at home, very thankful I made it back alive.”

Vajna explains, “It was a test; if you failed you would not be here now, and none of this would exist. You passed.”

“Oh, that’s a relief, but something there kept guiding me. Where was I, at the Hyperborean temple, if I may ask?”

“Terra’s Temple and the ancient library is in the far north, above the Arctic Circle, in what was once a much warmer region known as Hyperborea. That is, until a pole shift of Earth’s magnetic fields altered the climate, and brought about an ice age millennia ago. You were there as witness to the vast store of knowledge, the original books and scrolls, gathered throughout history.”

I am stunned. “I’m not sure how I woke up in my dream, in my body, realizing I had left my real body at home in bed, dreaming. It was as if I became a clone of myself and didn’t know it. Perhaps it had something to do with the way the headpiece works? I am very interested in learning more about its secrets and profound abilities.”

Vajna smiles, “I know how disorienting it can be at first. We have all been at the point you are now, on the threshold of unknown revelations. For myself, that was a long time ago. Yet I am still learning and making new discoveries. The universe is far more complex than it appears to be.”

It is a tremendous amount to absorb. At present there are more questions than answers. Vajna–whose ancestors came from the Himalayan region of Kashmir–seems wise beyond her years, but looks about fifty-something. She is a great communicator and visionary diplomat.

“Would you mind telling me one thing I am able to do with this headpiece? I’ve decided to refer to it as K6, or does it already have a name?”

Vajna smiles again saying, “K6 is fine. But you have no idea of how long it has been since it was worn by anyone. Do you? As you think about your answer, touch the silver dome on the left, once. Then close your eyes.”

I am trying to imagine my grandmother’s grandfather, as I touch the dome, closing my eyes. What I see shocks me, triggering a reflex. I open my eyes and things look normal. Normal? That’s a bit of a stretch, this is all so far from normal, there isn’t a category for it yet.

At least there is no creature on the wing tearing at the engine cover. That scene is from an old Twilight Zone episode where William Shatner plays the passenger, who is the only one that sees the creature. ( No spoiler.)

“Vajna, what just happened?”

“You asked a question, and were about to see the answer, in a holographic projection behind your closed eyelids. But you need to restate your question, as you touch the silver dome again, and keep your eyes closed until you see.”

So, I think about my grandmother, as I tap the dome again. In the darkness, a vision begins growing like a tree. It comes closer and I start seeing names on the twigs and branches, rising from the roots.

It appears to be my family tree with the names of everyone woven into an intricate, illuminated 3D-tapestry, floating in the dark. Oh my god, I can see my arms! That really gets my heart pumping, this is like virtual reality on steroids. I reach out in front of me, wanting to connect with what is floating there in space.

I tap a name at random, and the entire life history of the person is at my fingertips in words and images, instantly. I could spend a long time exploring this amazing space. I open my eyes, blinking and then close them again, testing. Nothing. I am at the threshold of infinity and only beginning to learn the true potential of this ancient relic.

I activate the piece again, thinking “resume.” It picks up where I left off, exploring my family tree. My brain is on overload from this incredible experience, blowing my mind.

When I thought of my grandmother’s name, her image appeared, smiling at me. I felt I’d died and gone to heaven. I later learn I was linked into the Akashic record.

The other passengers begin to introduce themselves. One by one, their voices speak internally. The elder, Halvar, whose Nordic name translates to Guardian of the Rock and Defender of Earth, will teach me how to examine invisible secrets, hidden within the realm of nature. He has the appearance of someone who has weathered well through time, sounding very wise.

His apprentice, Azar, the youngest of the group, actually far older than he looks, is of Persian descent. He is a world-renowned astronomer and astrophysicist. He will instruct me about using K6 to explore the night sky, and I have a feeling this is going to be very interesting. He is slender, about six feet tall, and has brown hair. Strangely, he looks a little reminiscent of Prussian astronomer, Copernicus, known as the Father of Heliocentrism.

Inti is of Incan and Mayan descent; his name means Sun. He plans to teach me about architectural secrets in places I never could imagine, all accessible through K6. Many of the ancient sites he mentions are temples to the sun, where the solstices and equinoxes were observed and celebrated. His striking, bronze complexion gives him the appearance of a Mayan mystic.

Nubia has the countenance of an exotic Egyptian princess. Her closely cropped grey hair appears cat-like. She now sits in front of me, having spun her seat around. Her green eyes penetrate mine, searching. She will instruct me in martial arts, yoga, and Tai Chi techniques with an emphasis on mind-body connections uniting chakras. It seems K6 has more surprising things in store, that much is certain. What awaits on Conch Island, may further open my doors of perception.

I now realize I am being brought to the island to work with and learn from these esteemed sages. My presence completes the Hexad. Our group of six, referred to as Omekron, can unite in creating solutions during these difficult times for the human race and planet Earth.

Vajna says, “We have given you a lot to process, and it can be quite overwhelming. So once we are on the island, we’ll try to take things slowly. You’ll have plenty of time to soak up the sun and swim, but remember your SPF-90.”

The plane starts banking as we begin circling the island. The captain’s clear voice comes over the PA announcing, “Conch Island is now visible on our starboard side. We will circle it twice, allowing ample time for the benefit of any photographers onboard.”

“What do you think of the robot pilots? We’ve come far, haven’t we,” Vajna says internally.

“Vajna, I had no idea when I first met them, since they both appear and act so human.”

“I am still getting used to this new way of communicating, telepathically. It’s remarkably clear. I have some hearing loss in my left ear, as a result of too many close explosions from the fireworks I played with years ago, so sometimes I mis-hear words.”

“Please excuse me. I am hoping to take some aerial shots, and it looks like there is good light now.” She just nods, encouragingly.

I take my compact, telephoto lens and attach it to my iPhone. The island is in view and I am glad to get a 360° sweep around twice. I’ll take stills the first time and video on the second loop. I am feeling a tangle of emotions from all the events I’ve experienced so far today, right here on the plane. Taking photos can be calming.

At the moment the island is calling me as it waits there amidst the blue Caribbean. I am looking forward to swimming in the sea, and the chance to just relax.

Vajna suggests, “You might try recording some images with K6. Touch and think ‘image capture’ to set the mode. As you’re looking at your subject, everything within your field of view will be captured at your command with a keyword you may choose. Or call up a frame in a shape you want. It is projected holographically in your field of view. I think you will be most impressed with the images you acquire.”

Following Vajna’s suggestion, I switch to image capture mode with an internal voice command. I call up a finder and a rectangle appears before me, moving in sync with my head. I’ll just think “click,” when I want to take the shot.

At the moment the light is perfect, so I think “click,”wondering what will happen if I say “review?”

I hear the guiding voice say “close your eyes.” I do and then the image I have just taken appears floating in the dark. It is so brilliant, I am stunned. This is very intuitive and hands-free too. I continue recording, both stills and motion. I zoom way in and see a large sailing yacht anchored offshore. It was not there during my first visit. I take a few photos of it with K6, and look forward to seeing them later.

A camera responding to voice commands? Why not? We talk to all kinds of things these days, but the ancient relic performing space-age tasks is just so incredible.

The aircraft is now on final approach and we hear the landing gear lowering. The captain orders seatbelts fastened and seat backs to be in their upright position.

Tall palms swaying in a gentle breeze come into view. We are close to landing at our destination, Conch Island. Vajna looks at me again, winking.

The jet touches down smoothly, slowing to a stop. All passengers aboard seem quite content. I notice them removing their headpieces, stowing them away. I take mine off as well, packing it with my gear as I get an approving nod from Halvar.

The captain appears, opening the cabin door as the scent of sea air drifts in, welcoming us to Conch Island. It feels like I’ve come home again to a whole new world of wonders. As this most unusual flight is ending, my journey into the unknown is just beginning. . .

The End