James BeauSeigneur - In His Image James

The class had already started when they arrived. Quietly Jackie moved through the crowd of about a hundred and fifty people, pulling Decker along, until they reached two empty chairs. Around them people sat silently with eyes closed, some with their legs crossed, all listening intently to the speaker. They seemed totally unaware that others were around them. Even in the subdued light, Decker recognized nearly two dozen of the attendees as U.N. Delegates. The speaker was Alice Bernley, an attractive woman in her late forties with long flowing red hair. "Just sit down, close your eyes, and listen," Jackie whispered.

It was easy enough to relax in the deep comfortable chairs. Decker listened to the speaker and tried to figure out what he was supposed to be doing. "In the blackness ahead of you," Bernley was saying, "is a small point of light just coming into view. As you walk closer to the light, you are beginning to narrow the distance, and the light is growing brighter and warmer." Decker became aware of a soft, barely audible hum, almost like a cat's purr, coming from those around him. As he closed his eyes, to his amazement, he too, saw a light. It was very distant, but it was clearly visible. He wondered at the sight, and in his mind it did seem as if the light was getting closer, or possibly he was getting closer to it. He was certain it was all just a mental picture painted by the woman, but he was surprised at how open he was to her suggestion. It must be from lack of sleep, he thought briefly. The woman's delicate voice seemed to softly caress his ears. "Approach the light," the woman continued, and Decker did. "Soon you will find that it has led you to a beautiful place: a garden." In his mind Decker followed her words and soon he saw it.

Bernley went on at some length describing every detail of the garden. It was so clear, so real and precisely described that later, as Decker looked back to this event and thought of all the others in the room, his greatest wonder – though logically he knew better – was that so many could be sharing the same vision so clearly and yet each was totally alone, each in his own garden. Even in his memory the place seemed so real that he expected to see others from the room there with him.

"Just beyond the shining pool of water you see someone approaching." Decker looked but saw no one. "It may be a person," Bernley continued, "but for many people it will be an animal; perhaps a bird or a rabbit, or perhaps a horse or even a unicorn. What form it takes is unimportant. Do not be afraid; even if it is a lion. It will not hurt you. It is there to help you; to guide you when you have questions." Still, Decker saw no one. "When it has come close enough, talk to it, ask it anything you would like to know, and it will answer. You might start by asking its name. As some of you know, my spirit guide is a Tibetan Master who goes by the name Dj'wlij Kajm. For some, your spirit guide may be a bit more shy. You may have to coax it out; not by speaking to it, but by listening. So listen. Listen very closely." Decker listened. He moved closer to the pool, trying to hear. Bernley's voice had fallen silent, apparently to allow those with 'shy' spirit guides to listen more closely. Still, he saw and heard nothing.

It was not that there was nothing there. If they had spoken any louder, he surely would have heard. "Why does no one approach him?" one of the voices whispered. "The Master forbids it," another voice answered. "He has special plans for this one."

Bernley remained silent for another eight or ten minutes. For a while, Decker continued to try to hear or see the guide Bernley said he would find, but when she spoke again he opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep. "Now say farewell to your new friend but thank him, and let him know you'll return soon." Decker watched the others in the group as Bernley brought them back from this expedition of the mind. In a moment everyone opened their eyes and looked around. Everyone was smiling. Some hugged those around them. A few wept openly. Decker looked over at Jackie Hansen, who seemed to be nearly floating. From a corner of the room someone began to applaud and soon the whole room was filled with applause. "Thank you, thank you," Bernley said graciously, "but you really should be applauding yourselves for having the courage to open your minds to the unknown. Now, whenever you need guidance on something that you just don't know how to handle, all you have to do is go to a quiet place for a few moments, close your eyes, and open your mind. Seek out your guide at every opportunity and ask it the questions which you can't answer. What you are doing is allowing the creative nature that is within all of us to do what it most wants to do: provide visionary solutions to the problems in your life."

Some of Bernley's assistants brought in refreshments and everyone began to talk together in small groups about what they had experienced. Decker politely thanked Jackie for the invitation and told her that he had found the experience interesting, but said he really needed to get back to work. She seemed surprised that he was leaving but did not try to stop him.

As soon as Decker left, Alice Bernley called to Jackie, who quickly made her way across the room. Without speaking, Bernley took Jackie's arm and led her to a quiet corner where they would not be overheard. "Was that Decker Hawthorne with you?" Bernley asked, sounding a little concerned.

"Yes," Jackie answered. "I asked him if he'd like to sit in on the class. Did I do the wrong thing?"

"No. It's okay. Actually, it was my fault. I should have told you: The Tibetan has made it very clear that Decker Hawthorne is not to be a part of the Trust. The Master has special plans for Mr. Hawthorne."

New York, the Israeli Mission

As Jon Hansen was shown into the office, Ambassador Hartzog sat at his desk, talking on the phone. It was an obvious snub for the Israeli Ambassador not to greet him and Hansen recognized that this was not a positive sign. As Hansen waited he couldn't help but overhear Hartzog's conversation, which didn't sound like very important business. This made the snub all the worse; if he had been talking to his wife, Hansen would have written this off, but to be talking business on the phone with some bureaucrat while a guest Ambassador waited was inexcusable. What made it even worse was that undoubtedly Hartzog realized that Hansen was not only a fellow Delegate; he most probably would be the next Secretary-General.

Nearly three minutes later the Israeli Ambassador finally hung up the phone and joined Hansen. He made no apology for the delay and immediately began by calling Hansen by his first name, even though the two had never been formally introduced – the Israeli Ambassador having just been assigned to the U.N. What a cheeky ass, thought Hansen.

"So, Jon, what have you come to offer us?"

Hansen held his temper like a true Englishman. "Reason, Mr. Ambassador. Reason."

"You have brought me a reason that Israel should cut her own throat?" Hartzog asked, mockingly.

"No. I have… "

Ambassador Hartzog cut off Hansen before he could even begin. "Ambassador Hansen," he said, now becoming formal, "my government considers the decision by the General Assembly to reorganize the Security Council along regional lines a noble gesture. It is, unfortunately, one with which we cannot abide. Did it not cross your mind that by restructuring the Security Council on a regional basis and then grouping Israel with the other nations of the Middle East, you would force us into a position where we would constantly be at the mercy of our Arab neighbors? In case you were not aware, Israel has a Jewish population of four million. We are surrounded by twenty-three Arab nations with a total population of two hundred and thirty-five million. Now, tell me, just what do you think Israel's chances are of having a representative on the Security Council who is favorable to our country?" Hartzog paused and then added, "Most of those bastards still haven't acknowledged that Israel even exists!"