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Book of Future

unclassified

By R. L. LASTERPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
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a VOCAL.MEDIA exclusive by R. L. Laster

July 16, 1969. The United States had been battling the USSR (now known collectively as Russia, Poland, Finland, etc.) in the Cold War. A competition between them ensued to showcase whose technology was superior. The USSR was successful in sending a man into space, and traveling around the entire earth first. As impressive as this was, the United States shifted into high gear. Advances in innovativeness propelled the U.S. to rocket (pun intended) past competing space programs and landed a craft on the moon.

While conspiracy theorist analyze rather NASA really achieved the first man to the moon, one thing is absolutely certain. There was something on the lunar surface that would change the course of the world and its collective consciousness for eons into the future. It was something so powerful, it had to be classified. But what was it? While Neil A. Armstrong is famous for his contact with the lunar surface, Edwin E. Aldrin, Jr. (Lunar Module Pilot) and Michael Collins (Command Module Pilot) were just as important with their mission support. The three are the only astronauts you’ve heard about. But it’s a fair-minded, Ireland-born woman named Fionnuala Allaband Lir (a third crewmember of Apollo 11) you never heard of. The Lieutenant Commander also walked on the lunar surface. Her mission call sign was Echo-28-Lima. ‘Echo’ represented the first letter in the word Earth. The number ‘28’ represented her age and ‘Lima’ represented the first letter of her surname. It’s ECHO-2-8-Lima who made the bigger headline in 1969. Understandably; it never went to print. What lieutenant Lir discovered was undeniably ineffable. It’s what she did with the mysterious, black, little book from the lunar surface that ‘DISAPPEARED’ her from recorded history.

“ECHO-3-8-Alpha, ECHO-2-8-Lima. I’m seeing something spinning in the distance. It’s not far. Are you seeing this?”

“ECHO-2-8-Lima, ECHO-3-8-Alpha. I was really hoping I wasn’t seeing what we’re seeing. It looks to be some kind of machinery.”

“ECHO-3-8-Alpha, ECHO-2-8-Lima, It’s beautiful. I can’t stop looking at it. Looks like two cubes. One is spinning and another one is stationary. I need to get closer. Over.” she responds calmly.

“Major, Collins! We’re gonna’ need to go offline. I need you to kill long relay. This is dicey.”

“Copy-that, Commander.”

“Lima! This is Commander. Kill the protocols. What the hell are you doing?”

“Sir! I’m arriving to the anomaly.”

“Yeah; I see that. Why are you doing what you’re doing? You’re gonna’ force me to follow you, damn-it. I can’t have you at it alone.”

“I just need to get a little closer. It’s a spinning cube of some sort. There’s something else.”

“Damn-it, squirrel. You’re way too close to that thing for my comfort. Come back to me. That’s an order.”

“Wait! I see a book. It’s stationed on a cube-like podium.”

“…A book? That can’t be right. Books are from the library. You see any library out here? Here I come! Don’t touch anything.”

Armstrong makes his way within 20 steps of LCDR, LIR. As he does, Echo-2-8-Lima touches the strange book.

“It feels heavy, Sir.”

“Take it or leave it. I’m ordering us to un-ass this A.O. NOW!!! Let’s go, Squirrel.”

“Yes, SIR.” she complies while grasping the mysterious, book-like object with both hands.

As they return to the lunar module, the rotating cube has stopped spinning in the distance. Upon further investigation of the object, a stranger truth presents itself. 33 sheets of gold are bound with a strange element that has no earthly origins. The rem of the book is comprised of thick, supple leather.

“Sir; this black leather isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. It can’t have origins from earth.”

“Well; what’s more obvious to me is how the process used to craft this is molecularly in its nature. I wonder how long it’s been up here!”

Just as Commander Armstrong releases this question, the book opens and its golden pages flip several inward. If it weren’t for the absence of sufficient gravity, the motion of the book cover opening would’ve caused the book to leave her hands and hit the lunar dust.

“Oh! My God! It opened itself in my hand! What is going on?”

Text appears on center of the page.

A glowing text resembles wizardry—complete with 3-d pop-out effects. ECHO-2-8-LIMA begins reading.

TIME IS AN ILLUSION.”

She repeats to herself.

“Time is an illusion? It answered you, SIR.”

“Let us not over react. There’s no evidence it was answering my question. The bigger question is how the hell this text is in English?” Armstrong expresses.

Just as Commander Armstrong asks, the books’ golden pages flip several pages inward. Text appears on center of one of the pages.

I AM RETROFITTED TO ANSWER THE TONGUES OF A TRILLION KINDS.”

The text is glowing yellow, bold and undeniably magical by human standards.

Of the 21 hours and 36 minutes Armstrong, Aldrin and Lir spent at the site they named Tranquility Base, Lieutenant Commander Fionnuala Allaband Lir spends 13 of her hours in communion with the mysterious, black, little book.

Columbia (in lunar orbit) has eyes on the lieutenant as she hunkers down derelict to her duties. Commander Armstrong makes the call to reconnect to Houston.

“Alright, Mike! Let’s get Houston on coms. We have to tell them everything. It’s a matter of protocol and safety.”

“Copy-that, Sir. We’re live in 4, 3, 2, _.”

The cubes are reported with all of the details of this magnificent find.

“ECHO-2-8-LIMA, take your time. Be careful. Your safety is priority. I’ll resume duties. When you’re done, you can join us. Do not return to the cubes.”

“Copy-that, Sir.” she confirmed.

For some reason, ECHO-2-8-LIMA is compelled to spend personal time with the book.

“What are you?” Fionnuala asks of it.

Pages stir (left or right) in no particular direction for answers. It only has 33 blank, golden pages in total. It was all it needed.

I AM ALL THIS REGION IS—EVEN YOU.” It answered gorgeously.

“So there are more regions… There are more of you?”

CONSTANT EXPANSIONS ARE AQUIRING NEW ORACLES. YES.

“You’re an oracle. What’s my Personal Public Service Number?” she asks to confirm she knew what an oracle was.

The golden pages of the artifact flip to answer her immediately.

"IL57621.” the text reads - without any computing or digging for information.

“Are you alive? What is your purpose?” she asks, baffled.

YOU QUANTIFY ALIVE INSUFFICIENTLY. NOT ALL KINDS THAT ARE CAPABLE OF INQUIRING; ARE SUFFICIENT FOR INTERNALIZING ANSWERS THEY SEEK.”

“Has my kind evolved sufficient enough to understand what your purpose is?

NO.”

She laughs from her belly.

“I figured that answer. Do you know the future?”

I AM FUTURE.”

“How?” she insists.

I AM MANUFACTURED BY CONSTRUCTS TO BE FUTURE, PAST AND TO BE GOVENOR OF THIS REGION—EVEN THE ABSENSE OF TIME.

“By 'REGION', you mean this galaxy?”

YES.”

“You were manufactured. That’s interesting. Are your manufacturers a loving kind?”

YES.”

“Are they here? Are they listening to us now?”

NO. NO. REPORT FUNCTION IS NOT DUE.”

“At what time will the report function be due?”

“…NOT TIME. COLLECTIVE CAUSALITY.

ECHO-2-8-Lima concludes that she’s in no danger. There’s something satisfying about being in the company of something much greater than anything dictated by earth’s regulations. She holds the book with two hands and begins speaking freely.

“You speak, but you’re not human. You know of all things, yet refuse to condemn. In this moment, you’re a surrogate companion, yet you’re not from my world. You have answers, yet you’ve never experienced life. I’m guessing you listen well enough to heal pain.”

Fionnuala has a heavy heart. As she looks up to glance at the big, blue rock, an astonishing revelation has overcome her. She’s no longer a contributor nor receiver of earth’s sufferings. She’s free to think outside of her training and illusions of being accepted by peers. She’s free to pour out.

“It’s so often said by people who were not born in Ireland, or have never even been to Ireland ‘I’m Irish’. What exactly do they mean? One person told me ‘her heart is Irish’ and that’s what’s important to her. Another noted that for her, it was ‘a state of mind’. Others claimed their heritage was Irish. Is to be Irish a present? I think, not. And why do Irish-born people resent it when people born in other countries call themselves Irish? When I first came to America, I found it a bit irritating that almost every time I opened my mouth, my accent encouraged someone to say: ‘Oh I’m Irish too’. Naively, I actually thought many of them were born in Ireland like me. I found that to be false. They had an affinity to Ireland— at least a sense of belonging to it or it belonging to them. What is it that makes people who were not born in Ireland want to say ‘I’m Irish’? The grass is greener there, sure. As for everything else, it’s not so inspiring. I was 24 years old, living in a council estate with no college education, working a part-time job in retail, with a partner who was unemployed and a two-year-old son. I knew if we stayed in Ireland, we would struggle for the rest of our lives. Our son would grow up not knowing how much better life can be. We packed what little we had and left for America. My parents had been living Florida since the forties. Soon after arriving to America, my son died of a strange illness. I was distraught and divorced soon after the funeral. I… I got into the space program because I wanted to be close to him. I fought through strenuous requisites for rank. If I could just reach heaven, I’m going to tell God how I feel. After God heard me, I would reclaim the spark of life that had left my soul. Here I am. The ultimate achievement would be to leave all this behind and explore other civilizations. Dismiss every expectation, every need to earn money, every struggle to maintain balance... Is there love and balance where my son is?”

YES.”

“Would those who engineered you greet me with love?”

YES.” A flipped page concludes.

What the mysterious, black book spells out [next], is astonishing.

YOUR KIND MISQUANTIFIY WHAT IT IS TO BE DECEASED.”

“How would you know?”

YOUR SON IS IN PROXIMITY OF MY ENGINEERS. YOUR BELOVED LIVES.

After many tears, the young astronaut gathers herself, swallows hard and braves through her next request.

“Take me to where you were manufactured.”

The pages of the book lay still. A minute pass before Fionnuala realizes it was not in the form of a question.

“Can you take me to meet your manufacturers?”

YES.” it answers as (only) as a matter of fact. Not action.

She’s made up her mind, but nothing has happened. She must figure out how to cause an action by the mysterious, black little book via question.

“How can I get actions of you from inquiry?” she asks deliberately.

WRITE REQUESTS ON GOLD.” it replies.

Lieutenant Commander Lir reaches for a marker that she tapes to her space suit and begins to write on the magnificent sheets of gold.

“My parents are worthy. Cause them to be wealthy until the end of their days.”

ACTION COMPILED. ACTION COMPLETED.” the mysterious, black little book replies.

“The lunar team; Cause them to return safely and as heroes.”

ACTION COMPILED. ACTION COMPLETED.” the mysterious, black little book replies.

“As for me; Take me into the causality of greeting your engineers, that I may hold my son again— that our days be long, and fulfilled.”

ACTIONS COMPILED. ACTIONS COMPETED…….

This begs a question we should all be asking. What else has yet to be unclassified?

fantasy
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About the Creator

R. L. LASTER

At the age of 25, I discovered my love of research and the divinity within us. If knowledge precedes empowerment, knowing thyself should be everyone's first priority. Understanding the nature man, woman & their dynamic is gratifying.

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