"Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny." -- unknown

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

Old man -- an original writing.
2000-12-27 - 02:26:53

The first is his digital phone, seldom used, it provides his only traceable link to the outside world. The second is a state of the art PC system. Day after day, he sits in front of it searchs the internet. His connection is cable. His software is mostly heavily modified, by himself and 'friends.' They are not friends in a convential sense, perhaps in the near future they will be convential friends. He has never met one of them and never will. He has never heard them speak and has no desire to. They exist as nothing more than a string of text on a screen. They are a means to an end. The end is being anonymous to the world.

All his email passes though anonymous remailing servers. He uses a varity of hacked shell accounts and other hacker/cracker tricks. He surfs net constantly. His system is impressive by and standard and to him it is the purest of necesity. The invention and evolution of the internet is something he watched in awe. The power of it, the ability and versitility of it astounded him. He saw its use to him immediatly and strove from the earliest days to master it. He had much to learn about computers, for he had mostly ignored them as just another trival man-made invention, Something else of no use to him.

Before the internet, indeed for ages and ages before the net, he would spend days reading newspapers from across the world while listening to radio news reports. Constantly on a quest for information, very specific information. He would move from one major city to another on regular intervals, careful to always live in dense areas where people see you everyday, but don't really notice you. Places where to be part of the background is easy. To be the soft-spoken, withdrawn man in 3B about who no one knows a single thing. He learned early, to be invisible it is best to be in plain sight.

There are those that hunt this man. Those who seek to know what he has learned. Those who simply want him dead. He is a man who is not a man. He existed before man. There are those who claim he is a Fallen Angel, one of those unearthly beings cast down from heaven. There are those who say that some of the Fallen were cast into Hell and the rest condemed to Earth. Those who helped or supported Lucifer were thrown into Hell. Those who were passive, that is choose no side, were cast down to Earth until they choose. Most choose quickly, support God and return to Heaven, support Lucifer and Fall to Hell.

The choice may seem clear and easy. But then if was why would Lucifer rise against God in first place? As always, there is more to the story than what is told. As always, history is written by those who won. Actions and deeds colored by the agenda of those who write the history. Some did choose Luficer and Fell for real, most did not. Most could not bear to live without the joys of Heaven. Heaven is all things that people imagine it and more. Heaven, the very concept of it, can not be clearly coneved to mortal man. The words don't exist to describe Heaven. It is like a Nobel Prize winning physicist explaining quantem mechanics to gerbils.

He sits day after day looking very much like an old feeble minded grandfather who has long since been forgotten or outlived any family he had. He takes this form because it fits how he feels. He is old, tired and believing his mind has grown feeble. He knows this is not possible, his being is made of things Eternal, the essance of the Universe. Thousands of years he has lived. Travling amoung mankind, watching them. It was as a Watcher he was created. It is his natrure, the eyes of God. He has seen the greatest and the worst of man.

That is the very essance of the Argument that lead to the Falling. The basic nature of Man. Is Man good or evil and is this by the choice of Man or is this His nature a result of His creation. In modern terms, was Man hardcoded to be how He is or does he have the choice or ability to change. It is an Angel's belief in this question that determines the Angel's fate. Will it be Heaven or will it be Hell?

Searching endlessly, gathing information and pondering all that he as seen and heard, the old man sits each day. With the internet, news stories of interest are sent like magic. His 'friends' rely events and the 24/7 news plays on his battered remotless TV. Sometimes he lays in bed for days. The TV stays on, his ears hearing every word of its constant drone. The issues turning over and over in his mind like some horribly complex algorithm. His quest seems endless for the Truth.

In the end, he cares not which side he believes. His heart aches terribly for joys Heaven. Often when he lies in bed and his mind finally starts to tire of analyzing all he as seen, his thoughts turn Heaven. In his memory the voices of choirs still ring, he can't hear them anymore. His body and mind are now basically human, though far more sensitive than a normal mortal man. The voice of an Angel or the true voice of God is impossible for him, or any mortal, to hear. He could stand at the gates of Heaven now and see nothing. His eyes can not detect its wonders. These things exist in a different world. His memory is full of nothing but impressions of how things were. Saddness fills him and he cries. Torrents of tears flow from his eyes. He has sacrificed so much. He has given up so many joys, perhaps forever.

He is torn. He longs for Heaven. He longs to know true Joy and Happiness again. To hear Angels sing, to sing himself, and to see the Light of God. Emotions are simply words on Earth, abstract concepts. In Heaven, emotions are reality. You can touch Happy. You can feel Joy on the bare bottems of your feet as you stand, it is sweeter than the greenest dew covered grass. You can smell Peace. If you open your mouth, you can taste Love.

He has never been to Hell and really only knows of it what the books of Man say. The Angels, Demons really, who live there used to come to torment him. They would take possesion of a mortal and pepper him with questions, beg of him to choose. They would bring forth example after example why they are right. They would build a solid tower of evidence and offer it to him, asking him to find one weak stone. He would listen, what else could he do? He would see the logic, the overwhelming evidence they would offer. His mind would almost decide and then an Angel from Heaven would arrive. The Angel would offer up one piece, however small, of counter arguement that the Demon couldn't answer and he would be cast back down into the sea of indecision. Finally, he swore of listening to anyone or anything telling him what to think and he became the recluse is today.

Eons have passed and nothing has changed. Man evolves and time passes, those are the two constants he knows. He is no closer than when he was asked to choose. God granted the Undecided as much as they needed, for God wanted them to be sure and to choose wisely. Eventually, the Demons stopped coming and so to did the Angels. He found himself alone in a mass of humanity he was desperatly trying to understand, but could not.

The old man found out long ago, long being a very relative term, that he was the last of the Undecided. In the times before Greeks and Egyptians, the Undecided would gather in small groups and talk. Argue the sides and try to help each other sort it out. One by one they choose. Silence would always prevail whenever one announced his decsion. Which emotion do you feel? Happiness for he who has choosen? Saddness for until you choose you will not see him again? Envy for his stay on Earth is over and he knows what he believes?

There are cults of mortal man who know of the Undecided and other supernatrual beings who walk the Earth. The seek out these beings and hunt them down. They hope to gain powers and forbidden knowledge. Perhaps some just want to destroy that which they can not understand and therefor fear. The motives of mortals are amazingly complex and yet sometimes, so blindingly simple. In his apartment castle he sits. His door is made of solid steel and secured with a floor brace. His apartment is far above the ground and has no fire escape leading to his windows. A doorman, perhaps the weakest link in home defences, buzzes up any and all visitors. Rich and famous people live in his building. It prides itself on strict security. Perhaps the one remarkable thing about the old man is that in the fifteen years he has lived in this apartment he has had one visitor.

The old man sits in his threadbare swivel chair and reclines. The TV volume is set so low its but a hum, the words barely audible to his sensitive ears. His visitor has just left. It was most unexpected for the doorman to buzz and say he was sending someone up. To be honest the buzzer scared the old man. It was a sound he had never heard. He felt fear for the first time in ages, it was oddly invigorating. The buzzer scared him so much that he missed the name of who was coming up.

His eyes darted around as his mind raced, trying to figure out who it was. He may look old, but he had little fear of mortals. His reactions were blinding fast even in the old mans body. The body and how it looked was really nothing more than a mask and costume. He could change it at will, though it took time and deep focused concentration. Suspense another feeling he had not felt in ages filled him. He found himself waiting with almost giddy anticipation for the knock at his door. He tried to recall how long the elevator took to reach his floor. He tried to time it, but it seemed to take forever.

Finally his guest rapped at the door. The old man smiled as the lock and floor brace undid themselves. This was no mortal man coming to vist, it was a Being. He called anyone or anything that walked Earth other than mortal man a Being. It truely was amazing the varity of Beings that existed. Ghosts, Vampires, Ghouls, and Dopplegangers to name just a few. They were one of the main things that clouded his thoughts, why did they exist? Though only a handful remained thanks to the Cults. Slowly, just like in the movies, the door swung inward, creeking. The creeking made the old man smile, he kept the door well-oiled and knew the creek was just for affect.

In the doorway stood the most unremarkable person he had ever seen. Not a single thing stood out, if asked after seeing this person he would be hard pressed to say if it was male or female. Everything about his guest was androgynous. Hairstyle, facial bones, clothing, everything. His guest stepped into the room and softly, silently this time, the door closed.

The old man's smile slowly faded as the stared at his guest. Long ago he had choosen to look male. The choice simply made sense, especially in ancient times. A man could live alone. He could travel as a monk or scholar. He could adjust his body to look physically impressive to garuntee that he would left alone. Traveling as a lone woman just posed to many problems. It was not feasable. It invited to much trouble. Looking at his guest, he knew now how he should look. He was neither male nor female himself, Angels know no gender. He began to feel sad, as though realizing that all his time on Earth he had spent in the wrong guise. It made no sense to feel this, but he felt it anyway. In silence he waited for his guest to speak. He had his suspicions on who his guest was, but he could not be sure until his guest let him know.

Finally, his guest spoke. The voice was soft and gentle, just as he expected it would. Just one sentence was spoken, but it left him feeling like he had been shot.

"It is time my child."

His mind reeled. God was standing before him. God had come to him and God was telling him it was time. God was telling him it was time for him to choose. At first his voice left him. His mouth opened, but so many words tried to come out that none could. God smiled an easy smile and he felt at ease. God knew all the things he longed to say. This was not the time to say how much he longed to feel the Light, to be in Heaven, to sing. To say how much he wanted to choose, be his destination Heaven or Hell. God knew all this. This was time to respond to what God had said.

"My Lord, I...I have not... I know not which I believe." His voiced sounded weak and broken to his ears. His mouth was dry and it seemed his lungs didn't want expell the air to make proper sounds.

Again his vistor smiled, "Yes, you know."

A tremor passed though his body as God spoke this second sentence. The expression on God's face looked to be saddness, or perhaps fondness. There looked to be the tiniest glimmer of a tear in the corner of God's eye. Was this a tear of saddness or of joy, there was no way to know. The door opened soundlessly and out walked God. The door stayed open and his visitor was gone. He stood rooted to floor. His mind reeled. Questions he wished to put to God tumbled though his mind. If he had these answers, he could decide. If God would only hear what he had to ask and then respond, he would know. How could he be expected to choose without the answers? He had always thought the other Undecided had either choosen foolishly or had a conference with God and found the answers they needed. Secretly, he had supected the conference, but but never had more than his suspicions (or should he now call it wishful thinking?).

He licked his lips and stood trembling. He thought his legs might buckle so he moved to favorite chair. He liked it because it reclined and had wheels. He could roll anwywhere he need to go, shamelessly marking his hardwood floors. God had told him it was time, but God had said in what seemed another lifetime that he would have all the time he needed. What had changed? Had God changed the rules? Had God gotten tired of waiting for him to choose? What did this mean about God? How did all this affect his decsion? These a million more questions moshed about inside his head.

Time passed slowly as he stared at the open door. Then, he felt what mortals called a moment of clarity, an epiphany.

With a deep breath he closed his eyes and prepared himself. He could feel the attention on him now. The last of his kind, the last Undecided was about speak his decsion. As a rule, no Being could read his mind, but maybe God, who could say for sure what God could do? No Being could influence with more than mere words, though countless times it had been tried. He knew the importance of his decision. The finality of this, his life would forever be changed.

He collected himself and solenmly turned off the TV, the computer and the lights. Of these he felt only saddness at the computer, it was like his baby. The door he left open. Let whoever wished to enter his castle do so and take what they wanted. Let them wonder who this strange old man had been. Why had he had such a computer? Why was there no food? Probably a thousand other questions would arise, but let mortals wrestle with questions the answers to they would laugh at. Perhaps the Cult's would recognize and know that he was no more. Perhaps they would sleep easier knowing he was gone or perhaps they would become angry that he had eluded them with such finality.

He stood in the center of the room and removed the simple cloths he wore. Naked, he let his body go. He left it's own choice on how to appear. He felt at one with himself, at peace. He did know and perhaps he had always know. All that had mattered to him was that he Chose, which was of secondary importance. To Choose and be correct was the point. Heaven or Hell, he had never cared. He had always wanted to know that he was right. Now he knew. Now he understood. It had come in a flash inspiration to him. He knew what he believed to be right, but to prove it he need faith. So with the voice of man who has just had the weight of the world taken off his shoulders he spoke and slowly faded from the material world to the world Angels, Demons and Beings. The world he had left so many years ago, the world that was his true home.