Book News: TBA.
This story details what it is like for those rare souls who are brave and skilled enough to travel toward where they have heard Inisfree probably is, and lucky enough to be deemed worthy of admittance once they have crossed the PNR; the Point of No Return.
Welcome to Inisfree
A privately-owned airplane departs from Australia on a heading straight toward the South Pole. Inisfreean air-and-Space traffic control notices its course immediately, automatically determining its destination and ETA based on its velocity. A cloaked portal, undetectable to human technology, is quickly opened, allowing for the most direct and best connection with the minds of the airplane’s crew, and the Grid Mind (Inisfree’s primary supercomputer, and the biomechanical consciousness who is second in command of Inisfree) uses Inisfree’s ‘by-mind’ interface technology to noninvasively scan, map, and read the minds of them all, processing their every memory, personality, and intention in a fraction of a second.
The personnel manning (‘girling’, in Inisfreean terminology) the control center deep beneath Inisfree’s military aerospaceport appear in the mind’s eye of the city’s Governor, as does the thought-based ‘spoken’ communications of the Grid Mind. Within the first few seconds of the Inisfreean collective sensing that airplane’s flight path, the Governor understands the matter and issues his decision techno-pathically (telepathically via technology).
For the next few hours, the airplane continues on its set route through the cooling skies. Icebergs begin to appear far below them in the evenly rippling Southern Ocean. Far off and away on the white, icy horizon, the signature nacreous clouds, aetherial rainbow lava-lamp fusions start to blur in and out of existence and visibility. No one attempts to pursue them or their aircraft; with the globally collapsing economies based on accrued interest (which is nothing but illogical greed creating literally perpetual debts which obviously no one can ever fill), no one can afford to follow them. The military, among the lowest paid, least funded, and most heavily cut (in terms of budget), doesn’t even bother to scramble or divert one fighter jet to escort them back for trial. As many of the enlightening and ascending Outlanders learn, when you run from evil, you actually are doing the bravest and wisest thing; you are refusing to enter into an indefinite, rigged, doomed fight on the enemy’s home turf, playing by the enemy’s own rules, and serving yourself up for slaughter as nothing more than a pointless sacrifice. One actually should always run from their problems, for those problems are almost always fat, sluggish, lazy, and too inept to follow either way, and engaging a truly diseased, contagious, desperate monster fully classifiable by any measure as a demon walking the Earth… is nothing short of madness; insanity.
These wise souls finally broke through and free of the Outlander veil, giving up attempting to wake those who will only wake when or if the time is right and destined for them, and giving up on fighting an enemy that never sees reason, never acts honorably, and feeds and grows off of the pointless fighting that the newer guests of Earth sometimes attempt to throw at them before they, too, snap out of it and learn; the way of the minds born into convincing cultural submersion of an erroneously perceived and cowardly, maliciously conveyed and regurgitated desperation that has no anchor in reality. The bright and growing souls aboard this rare and daring flight have shed and evolved far above such misconstrued things… and here they come, flying all the way; no coincidence in that! They were born to soar up into and through the bright and crisp, clean skies.
The plane passes through the Antarctic Convergence Zone, shaking it and the resolve of its passengers and even its crew with the turbulence. They press on, knowing they have already passed the PNR (Point of No Return; where the airplane won’t make it back if it turns around, for more than half its fuel is now used up), and knowing there is nothing left for them back there, anyway. The vortex of energies invisible to the naked human eye comes next, and just moments after they survive the turbulent southernmost convergence zone. As near many Earthly energy vortexes and radiant ley-lines, their primitive aerospace technology loses its instrument readings… then loses functionality… and after coasting through the gentler, inner-Antarctican airspace wind currents, finally begins to inevitably lose altitude, a crash and a frigid, brutal, burning and numbing sensations death seeming imminent.
Amazingly, though, the relatively desperate, expatriot, fleeing crew and passengers do not resort to prayer; they do not turn to an imaginary friend with superpowers who never responds yet surely, according to zombie logic, must be there and working behind the scenes. No; instead, they turn to radiating hope, love, light, faith in themselves, and appreciation for the journey and adventure. The whole of Inisfree’s population goes wide-eyed, star-struck for a few moments as they share in the overjoyed, collective consciousness reaction to such a display from such an unlikely place; from the real-live zombies (and some, former xombies) of the Outlands! The city itself, Inisfree, beams with pride and relief, desiring very quickly to welcome them in somehow… if only they can pass the smart-screening that filters out all but the truest and purest of heart. So far… none… ever have. Not one has even come remotely close. Will this be that unprecedented day?? They all look through their mind’s eye, seeing the unbelievably brave souls riding in their aircraft through the thinning, chilly air far outside their holy homeland, wondering, hoping, willing it to be so… if their spirits are truly ready for the next evolution in love.
The airplane, steadily losing more and more of its lift and ability to coast downward for a smooth-enough landing they might survive, is, much to their surprise and overwhelming relief, remotely stabilized with the Inisfreean portals and energy beam technology; a fusion of Tesla’s teleporting electrical power paired with the tractor-beams of the Outlander’s science-fiction films. They will be saved. They have chosen Inisfree, and to dare to dream and follow only their heats without so much as a second’s pause or backup plan, and, because of that, Inisfree has chosen them, too. They begin to feel the changes in momentum, eventually realizing that they are being remotely controlled; …that they are being saved! The turbulence is gone, the sound of the engines remains… but there are no sensations of fluctuating G-forces… They are not flying! They are not coasting! They are not falling! They are being slowly eased down to nestle upon the surface of the great, glowing, White Continent of legend and lore!
The plane is brought to a landing many hundreds of miles away from its intended destination of the South Pole, as that location is not at all what they were expecting it to be; both the land at the pole doesn’t exist, as their erroneous maps would have them believe, and their paradisiacal final haven (the Outlander’s rumor of an equivalent of Inisfree) is just as far away from that axis of rotation, but in another direction. Thus, they must be diverted and assisted, lest they get helplessly lost in a realm of curving landscapes, an additional sun, masking mists, and baffling magnetic compass readings pointing straight up into an atmosphere that dips down into the core and heart of their world –into a hollow innards realm that until this moment, only existed in theory and wild fantasy for but a fraction of their kind.
Sobbing uncontrollably in confirmed salvation and reward, after all but the last shards of hope were shaken out of them by the winds and lost in the fall halfway back down to the world’s surface from which they had only moments prior leapt off to flee, they tremble and cling to each other inside their gracefully floating and halting plane, adorned with streaming tears of joy as they instinctively carry on gripping shoulders, backs, and cheeks of their brothers and sisters in the incredible spiritual and physical trip, escape, and emancipation. Their aircraft achieves a complete and unfelt stop on the pristine, radiant, otherworldly, snow-kissed, smooth, rolling terrain of the Antarctican ground just mere feet outside the walls and window ellipses of their vessel. They could almost reach out and touch it now! They had finally made it inside! The militaries of the world couldn’t afford to bar their entry any longer. They were here! The forces of evil had definitely suffered a crippling and diminishing blow. That much was clear.
“Is it safe to go outside?” one of the passengers called up to the opening cockpit door and the pilot and captain stepping out from it. Everyone was still hugging and holding on to those nearest them, looking up at them for an affirmation that would further sate, enlighten, and energize them even beyond what surviving the initial airspace entry and turbulence had awarded them. The captain beamed, having just read his only working instruments, and informed them that the temperature and wind speed outside their airplane were not just ideal, but divine; it was temperate and mild after all this far in. That wonderful part of the story of Admiral Byrd’s expedition flight was true!
“Only farther in from here,” the captain beamed, somehow elated that their flight had proven to be a one-way excursion just as they’d all once been understandably worried by; their airplane had landed on terrain that was too slippery and textured to take off from again, and they didn’t possess any VTOL. His crew helped him and their passengers pop open the main and emergency hatches, deploying the inflating life-raft slides in the process, and everyone took in their first breaths of the freshest, cleanest, most crisp and exhilarating air on the planet. Leaping out after the initial pleasant shock of it all, they slid down the now-taut slides to skid merrily across the snow-frocked, subtly undulating inner-Antarctican countryside.
As they began to fan out after helping one another down and off the slides, some of them couldn’t help but begin throwing their arms up and out as they spun around on their heels and toes, reenacting the Sound of Music’s classic mountaintop singing scene. They were too happy for words. It wasn’t even occurring to them to have negative thoughts anymore, as they always seemed to be somehow forced or bound to in the lands and regions beyond this fairytale continent and realm. The energy here was amazingly positive. Words would never be able to capture it, and they quickly knew and felt this, hoping that others would come as they just had, and find out for themselves.
As smoothly and unannounced as the invisible force that had taken control of their airplane had begun, the feeling of total safety, love, and serenity washed over and through them, almost resonating throughout their very cores and memories. The white glow of the Sun’s light reflecting off the snow and ice surrounding them seemed to faintly intensify if just for a moment, and then in its recession, fading back to what was normal for this part of the world, there stood a stunningly beautiful, physically flawless, perfect specimen of a fully-developed teenage girl. She was wearing at all, and if one looked closely, they might be able to make out the hint of a halo and full-bodied aura outline tracing her every line and curve, no matter which way she stood and moved.
All of the new arrivals in the group outside the opened airplane somehow knew that it was okay and time to look at her. Her eyes were so full of power, confidence, acceptance, and encouragement that to look in any other direction might have been an impossible and unnatural strain. Her voice rang out like oil caressing down silk, soft and musical in a way even beyond what might be expected of angels, hypnotic and gently seducing in a way that would put even the Sirens to shame, “You are aware of how cold it gets here, yes?” She spoke with a measured, slow and steady pace that helped her words –her spells- sink and settle in with them in just their right amount of time. Her onlookers nodded, still overcome by her visual and vocal majesty. She went on; “And of the winds –being the fiercest anywhere on Earth…?” Again, they could only muster more slight nods, their faces relaxed and almost hanging around their staring eyes. “And of the absence of any facilities at which you might land your aircraft or seek shelter…” They didn’t bother much to nod this third time, and the angelic girl standing on the white hill before them then asked “Why have you chosen to come all this way, knowing those odds were what faced you?”
One of them felt it was their time and turn to speak; “We felt the calling. We learned that Outlanders are foolish and pathological, chronic liars. We had to chance it. We felt… that it wasn’t a chance.” But despite this initial, half-truth response, the girl that stood nude and eternally proud in front of them was just as perfectly gifted and seasoned in seeing the deepest truths. Her expression remained just as calm, refined, and accepting as it had since she’d first appeared to them, but her head slowly pivoted, tilted, and canted so that her eyes were now looking slightly up and at an angle to them; a recognized Outlander body language indicating she knew there was more, was on the verge of blushing and smirking or grinning, and wanted them to go on. It was their queue to elaborate, which she knew from her wiring, as well as her educational training, that they would just as innately be triggered to respond as she desired them to.
One of the senior-most passengers spoke up, just as she had known he would, and she straightened her head and raised her chin back up in the air to acknowledge and thank him in the capturing, regal, irreproachable way that only the Inisfreeans can. Her mastered mannerisms sent energy waves to and from his and the other’s bodies which left them feeling weak in the knees, stirred in the loins, and as tuned in and paying as close attention to anyone as any of them ever had in their whole lives. She was clearly waiting for him to answer her, but without any pressure or intimidation at all. It was an amazing affect she was so easily able to achieve in this way. The man promptly spoke up, surprising himself at how good she was making him feel, when in the Outlands such a girl and glance and pose would have surely brought nothing but tension and dread of rejection.
“We were going to be sent to prison,” he said, the expected feelings of shame, fear, and being outcast somehow eluding him. She let her chin descend a bit, her dimples starting to show in the motion, “So you are cri-minals and fu-gitives?” she asked him coyly, teasing and playing with him –also in the special way that only the Inisfreeans can. The man flustered a bit, but still felt overwhelmingly accepted and good –reinforced and growing in strength, even! “No!” he couldn’t help but smile and let a laugh of air out his nostrils, making him pause and glance down to the side, taking notice of how happy and mirthful he felt, even when being interrogated by this unabashed and somehow alien being –even when feeling the lingering and slipping sensations of Outlander brainwashing that he might have to verbally or otherwise defend himself and those who had made his same decisions here this day.
“Yes, you arrre…” she beamed a knowing, loving smile, looking ravishing and alluring as Heaven itself surely must, and still speaking in that impossibly perfect, sexy, adolescent girl’s musical and melodic angel-Siren-nymph voice. “All good people from your world are branded that way in your lands.” She started walking toward him with swaying hips and a catlike fluidity that further enchanted them all. They would have stumbled over themselves in the Outlands from whence they’d just come, being so enamored and entranced by this constantly distracting and arousing creature, but in this new land of refilling and stabilizing, invisible, giving, energy beams, ley-lines, meridians, vortexes, and other powers, they were able to pivot and assume new stances just as sturdily as ever; their eyes never leaving her body, their mouths never managing to shut again (hanging open in blissful bewilderment), and their mind’s never feeling anything short of this unspoken, unquestionable, constant reminder and reassurance that looking her up and down and all over was absolutely the best and only thing to do, the best and only thing that she wanted, and the best and only thing that was destined for them all to share in during this very and special moment.
Completing her sexy, Asparan approach to him, she came to a flowing, nearly inhuman halt with her toe-tips resting just barely against the soles of his shoes. The loving energy between them –between his and her toes- was electric in the most intoxicating and healing of ways. Her eyes never left his, though, letting him catch his own instinctively wandering down; being drawn to the source and direction of that power; of their synergistic energy she was now charging up between them with that masterfully rehearsed stance and proximity. When his eyes half-shamefully, half-apologetically darted back up to her own, and only after uncontrollably dragging their gaze up every desirable millimeter of her fully exposed physique, she surprised them all again with just as much love, trust, and support as all of her people’s actions had begun surprising them with everything they were doing to and for them; she threw her arms around his neck and leaned up against his chest on her tip-toes, hugging him! “Yes, you arrre,” she sweetly cooed her next round of reassurance energies and spells to him, helping him to embrace the fact (as she cleverly, physically embraced him) that he and they all were, indeed, criminals and fugitives, and that it was completely okay here. She pulled back only to look deeply and wantonly into his eyes, then leaned in to squeeze him in another soul-melting hug, radiating the most welcoming energy –aura- they had ever felt –and by far.
The teenage goddess of a girl smoothly spoke further, “So you have fled senseless judgment, persecution, and damnation for a chance at true justice, which is freedom.” She let her silken hands slide from the back of the man’s shoulders, over his neck in opposite, parting directions, across the tops of his trapezius, and finally up the sides of his neck to rest, cupping his cheeks and jaw. “We have a saying here; ‘Who dares, wins.’. Welcome!” she beamed a smile that made all of them gasp and sigh audibly, which resulted in another wave of overwhelmingly positive energy, leaving them all chuckling and beaming at themselves before they looked around and shared it through their twinkling eyes with one another. She gave the man another big, warm, gentle hug, hugging him with all her love, and giving him the feeling that it was with all her might.
“Your aircraft must remain here,” she now addressed the group, slowly slipping back away from the man she had repeatedly embraced in the traditional and highly exclusive, scientifically refined, artistically shared greeting and initial social acclimation ritual, “but you may join us aboard ours. Would you like to see our city??” She lifted her perfectly shaped eyebrows, smiling with her whole face amidst twinkling eyes that somehow seemed to shine with every color of the rainbow and earth tones, and continued beaming as she looked around to all of them, one by one, letting them see and feel her direct, individual, specific contact and linking with each of them.
“No one has come here in many years,” she paused, sizing them all up, weighing their hearts and auras as they all again froze in their tracks due to everything about her. Another of the men in their group sensed it was his time and turn to speak up; “Yes… We know; ever since the bases were shut down. When they ran out of funding, everyone evacuated.” But she clarified that she meant to a whole other degree; “…No…” her voice was as silken, gentle, and playful as her highly developed, brilliantly precise touch, “We mean that no one of your kind has come to this particular spot… in more than ten millennia… and we weren’t expecting or inviting anyone for at least that many years more.”
In the beginning, only about 144,000 humans were allowed to enter Inisfree. Some of the first of these bravely traveled from their homelands to its borders at great cost and near mortal risk --both from the government agents which pursued them and from the natural environmental perils that their species was not designed to handle. Some came in vain, having to give up and turn back. Some did not survive the attempt. A lucky few, however, before the remotely screened and pre-approved groups of the Rapture Campaign, ...were welcomed into the city.