He jumped onto the train, heart pounding and head thumping. Found a seat next to the window facing back towards the opposite side of the platform; where he could view the kept gardens and rain trees. He took a swig of coke and nudged himself into the chair some more, trying to avoid the stares of passengers already seated. Dressed in a Grey jersey and a Canadian baseball cap, he hoped to blend himself further into the interior of the trains’ carpeted wall. It was enough that the guard had given him a once over just as he raced into the station in faded blue Converse, slapped his go card quickly on the machine and jumped aboard, the wardens loud whistle blowing loudly in this immediate memory creation station, because what he wanted was on the other side of fear. “Is it hard?”, she asked. Voice echoing down the line…a million miles between their physical senses. “What?’ he replied, the feeling inside that he already knew the answer, but waited for her to respond. “To have the heart of a star?” He laughed softly. That question haunted him as the train left Roma Street, the eerie electric motor lulling the passengers into a sense of safety that they were heading towards their destinations’ at the tabled times stated.
“Keep em together,” the General demanded, pounding the nearest desk for emphasis of how important the matter at hand was. Despite his flabby jowls creeping up on him, he was passionate, and conveyed an air of knowledgeable authority in regards to matters of the spinning Earth – world, and the occupants that resided thereon. Those in the planning room stopped their observational tasks; the clicking of keys on keyboards entering data that was streamed via transparent screens with bright green silhouettes of humans interacting with one another, reminiscent of Churchills’ command centre. This one was tasked to ensure smooth integration into the next 1000 years with a group of light-workers that had re-incarnated several times previously. The continued airy dreams and healing vibrations they created were essential to continue to power humanities’ light in the constant darkness of inter-planetary evil that the occult elitists continually tried to control. The General paused in his impassioned plea, as his assistant whispered in his ear information gathered by their pre-cogs in the white dimension. The Generals’ eyes slightly narrowed as his assistant quietly gave him the intelligence. “Thanks, Clark.” Clark did a slight nod to politely indicate his services were of use and removed himself from the room.
“It’s been communicated that one of the elite’s operatives have infiltrated Jasmine’s sub-conscious with ideas of pleasure from another specimen.” He looked at Officer Blueberry. The officer looked into the Generals’ oceanic blue eyes with a telepathic understanding. He nodded at the General, looked towards his screen and quickly clicked into a new program to counter the attack of sub-conscious energy with waves of synthesized music floating through the head-wires Jasmine was oft to use to facilitate the dream-like state she was prone to experience most afternoons. Blueberry hacked Nu Bube’s CNS to start playing the synth-laded pop in Jasmine’s ‘recommended’ playlist.