Thea Alexander - 2150 A.D.

I tried not to look at the screen but my eyes seem to have a life of their own. I stared at the mob which was now pouring through the opened fence, racing to large piles of small, sharp, quartz-like stones that were piled several feet in front of Carol.

For the next half-hour I watched the mob-men, women, and children-throw the small sharp stones at Carol's suffering body. I watched the whole gory process from the first superficial cuts on her beautiful legs, arms, breasts, and face until her whole body was covered with gaping bloody wounds, and finally to the sight of one eye gone and the other hanging by a shred of tissue down her torn and bloody cheek. Since the stones were small, they left her conscious till the very last, her lovely body literally hanging in shreds from her bones.

Even with the memory of my most recent Macro contact fresh in my mind that half-hour was the most excruciatingly painful of my entire life.

Elgon broke the silence. "It's one thing, Jon, to watch another person die like this. It's quite another to experience it yourself."

With these words Elgon summoned a number of his followers who led me out of the palace to the same courtyard wall from which the remains of my beloved Carol were now being removed so that I could take their place. As they hurled me forward my feet were gouged by the sharp white stones now stained red with her blood.

The mob regathered, shouting obscenities and accusations at me as I was thrust against the slaughtering wall, still wet with blood. As they snapped the bloody manacles around my wrists and ankles, my mind became a blur of memories-Lea, and our brief moments together-Rana and the many lessons I should learn... did learn?... would learn?-Neda and her incredible transformation-Karl, my faithful friend, and the trauma I had brought into his life these past few months-and his parallel self, my beloved Carol whose warm blood separated me from the coarse brick of the wall behind me.

In the distance I saw Elgon and Sela moving toward me through the crowd. Somehow, though they stood only inches from me now, they seemed also to be miles away. Elgon dipped the tips of his fingers into the red pool below me. Then, wiping his fingers across my chest, he asked me contemptuously if I would like to reconsider my decision. I did not speak, for the answer lay bitterly in my eyes.

Turning his back to me, Elgon bent to pick up two of the red-stained stones. He held these up for the crowd to see, then handed one to Sela as he turned and, facing me now, cast the first stone.

I heard, deep in the recesses of my mind, the voice of Rana echoing, "In ancient Judea, Jon, the souls of Carol and yourself incarnated into a fierce and proud family. You grew up to be beautiful to look at but vain and proud. You were quick to condemn and more than once self-righteously joined in the stoning to death of those you condemned."

I knew why it was happening, but my eyes and my mind were still overflowing with hatred for Elgon.

In my mind Rana's voice was saying, "The measure of a mind's evolution is its acceptance of the unacceptable."

I tried the Macro pause. I tried to think myself into a Macro perspective of loving acceptance. I tried to love and accept Elgon and "what is" as perfect. I tried but to no avail.

Acceptance of the unacceptable-my final test, and I had failed. I could not lovingly accept Elgon.

There are limits to everything-even pain-but with hundreds of jagged stones tearing at my body, the tide of pain soared through me until it-seemed I could not bear to live another second.

My eyes could no longer see, but to my mind Lea appeared.

"Remember, Jon, the measure of a mind's evolution is its acceptance of the unacceptable."

With these words ringing in my mind I awakened in 1976.

A month has passed since my death in 2150, and this long separation from the Macro society has been hard to bear. Yet, as I sit here in the warm spring sunshine on the small balcony outside my apartment, I know that I have come to accept this separation, and even the terror and pain of my last hour in that future world.

I no longer condemn or feel any anger toward Elgon, Sela, or anyone else, for I myself chose my experiences.

Anger, like all other violence, is a last desperate attempt by micro beings to deny responsibility for their life situation by blaming it on others. Violence and anger will, therefore, continue until man learns to accept full responsibility for everything that happens within his life. I hope that I have arrived at that point in my soul's evolution.

And now, Karl, as my mother entrusted me to you, I entrust this journal to you, to do with as you see fit.

Soon I shall come down and join you and Neda for one last meal together. At the end of this evening, I'll kiss: you both and say that I look forward to seeing you again soon.

Forgive me for writing my farewell instead of speaking it. You are dearer to me than I could ever say.

It's taken me such a long time to learn that all failure is success-all death is birth.

I'm going to evolate tonight.

You see, last night I had another vivid dream, Karl. It was a vision. I've made a rough sketch of it for you and Neda on the next page.

"Thank you" doesn't begin to say enough, Karl.

Remember your dreams. I'll be there. I am with you always.

I love you.

We are one.

'Bye for now,

Jon

Three months have passed since we cremated Jon Lake's body and scattered the ashes in a woods near our boyhood home. I must admit that at first I had great difficulty accepting Jon's suicide. I said that it was a cop-out and not worthy of his Macro philosophy. However, as the weeks have passed, Neda has chipped away at my micro philosophy until today I see Jon's action in a very different light.

Perhaps the most important factor altering my viewpoint was a conversation we had with Jon a few nights before he left us. Jon didn't include it in his journal and I wish he had because it would have reminded me of the Macro society's view of life and death.

Between Neda and myself we have recalled most of the details of that conversation. As we remember, it began one evening when I remarked about a student in our department who had just committed suicide. I said that suicide was a cop-out and Jon had replied with the following.

"You're complaining, Karl, about a conscious act of suicide which may or may not be an attempt to deny one's own responsibility for his present state of being. Aren't you forgetting that all micro existence is unconscious suicide? It may end swiftly as in a lethal accident, or it may be a slow process of micro aging which results in the long-term decay and deterioration of the body until some vital part fails completely. All of this deterioration is the natural result of resisting the responsibility and the consequences of one's own chosen life pattern. This resistance causes all the life stress that Dr. Hans Selye referred to in his book, The Stress of Life."

"All right," I said, "I won't argue unconscious suicide or Dr. Selye's stress theory, but the student we're talking about committed conscious suicide since he left a note apologizing to his parents. Now I say that's a coward's way out."

Jon gave me his big grin and said, "According to that French sociologist we studied, Emile Durkheim, there are two types of suicide: anomic and altruistic. The first, anomic, is due to self-other alienation and is an attempt to escape from a life so overwhelming that the person perceives himself as being completely inadequate to cope with it. This is what I call conscious micro suicide. It is always unsatisfactory to the micro self because when the person wakes up in his astral body he finds that he's still stuck with a mind that believes it's not responsible, a mind filled with the kind of unforgiving self-loathing that the micro self experiences when faced with failure."