The Man From Mars - Episode Twenty-Two

   The vividness of my dream was suddenly enhanced to the point where I saw my hands, my feet, and my reflection, in the water gardens that flowed everywhere along the city streets of Olympus Mons. That's not what the inhabitants of Mars, or Atlantis call their city. It's what us Earthlings named the highest volcanic peak on their planet.
   I was in the city they call, Principiis Opus. The city of Work Principles.
   The only comparable place on Earth, in which I could describe the city, would be that of Angkor Wat in Cambodia.
   Clay type structures, rising high above the horizon, with giant faces of old Board Leaders and picturesque scenes of life below them.
   They are pictures of men and women in action, on the lower sides of all the buildings, telling inspirational messages. Unlike the Angkor Wat on Earth, which often depicted stories of war and conquest.

 

   I have never been to the Angkor Wat in Cambodia or studied their language, but for some reason I could still decipher the messages here on Atlantis, told by these carvings on all the different buildings.
   They read as; "You miss out on 100% of your opportunities if you don't try. The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. Life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it." And so on.
   All inspirational sayings, plastered in carvings, along the outer walls of every structure.
   I took a moment to watch other Atlanteans, as my vivid dream showed me, that now I was one of them.
   They seldom looked up. Heads were down, facing the grass paths, that lined alongside the city streets and water gardens.
   Maybe it was from over exposure? From seeing the same inspirational messages day after day.
   But, that is not what I felt from looking into their faces. What I saw was hopelessness. A sadness you see in people who have a mundane life. An existence that can never change.
   I moved on to the main building in the square. How I knew it was the one I was looking for, I cannot answer. I just knew.
   As I walked up the thirteen steps to the front entrance. The doorman immediately grab the latch, opened the cathedral type door, and greeted me with, "Good morning Vice President Johnson."
   I stopped in front of him stunned. For a few reasons.
   First, he knew my name. And even though I believed this to be a dream, it still threw me off.
   Second, I had a title. But, if a corporation, here in Atlantis, is anything like the corporations on Earth, there could be twenty to thirty-five such figureheads with the title, Vice President.
   Third, I understood the language. Again, in a dream, I should be able to understand anyone I come across who speaks to me. But, if you speak only one language, like I do, you dream in that language. But this wasn't English. He was speaking in his native tongue, not mine.
   After standing there for which seemed like a minute, he asked me, "Are you alright Vice President Johnson? Did you forget something?"
   And when I answered him with, "No, no. I was just thinking." He understood me.
   Once inside, guards lined both walls. They didn't carry guns per se, but what I took to be a form of cattle prod. With two sharp points on the end of a stick, where a shock of electricity would be enough to handle most Atlanteans, like our stun guns can handle most Earthlings.
   "Vice President Johnson," I heard a voice call from the far end of the cathedral hall I was in. It was a tall, thin, Atlantean woman. Maybe seven foot in height.
   "Hurry up, or you will be late for your meeting with Chairman Unus. You know how he hates waiting. Even for you Vice President."
   Her words said to hurry, but the inflections in her voice said she wasn't worried if I did or not.
   As I approached, I noticed that my height was the same as hers. I hadn't noticed the size of everyone before this, just hers. I guess my dream was bringing me closer to the reality of what my subconscious thought was approximately the size of an alien race might look like here on Mars. Even my appearance changed to fit the bill.
   "I see you brought the amulet with you," said the tall woman. "Do you believe it is wise to bring it to your bid of taking over the company. Won't your enemies try to use it against you, in front of the Chairman, that you are showing malice by bringing such a powerful armament to this meeting?"
   There were clues in what she said. The amulet was a powerful armament. And I seemed to be one of the only ones, or maybe the only one, to own one.
   But why did I have the amulet? Where did I get it? Were there more of them? And why was I trying to take control of the corporation?
   The woman didn't wait for my answer. As soon as I was close enough to her, she waved a hand passed a wall and part of the wall slid open to reveal a brightly lit corridor, with an escalator moving in only one direction. Up.
   We both moved into the corridor and the wall closed behind us.
   Somehow, I knew, this was the moment of truth.
   To what? I am just about to find out.

To Be Continued...

Next Thursday.

This is,

Glad To Be Telling A Story Again

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

 “One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.”
- Sigmund Freud -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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