A Multivertical Conjunction

A Multivertical Conjunction

Nick Zentor

A science-fiction writer, stuck at a conjunction between parallel realities, attempts to write his

way out, and is joined by a spiritual companion who helps him figure out his problems and do something about it.

Copyright: Coldpost-85, 2018

All rights reserved.

To Lisa and Sarena, with many thanks for all of the spiritual support.

Contents

One: Stuck at the Conjunction

Two: A Deal with Sarena

Three: A Ride in a Trike

Four: A Victim of Lies

Five: Total Social Rejection

Six: Trade Ins and New Names

Seven: Good Tunes and Bad Dogs

Eight: Confusion at the Conjunction

Nine: Secret Government Intelligence

Ten: Some Light on a Gray Day

Eleven: A New Identity and an Escape

Twelve: The Road Trip Across Kansas

Thirteen: The Vegas X-File

Fourteen: Local Media X-Posure

Fifteen: Experts on the Case

Sixteen: The Rocky Roadway

Seventeen: Sunset on the Seaside

Eighteen: The Big Mystery

Nineteen: The Vegas X-File Extension

Twenty: Aftermath

Afterword

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One: Stuck at the Conjunction

I dunno how I got myself into this, Ren Tenrut admitted. But even as he thought this, he knew how it had happened. He was a writer and an artist, and some of his ebooks had finally become noticed by somebody with money, and he really needed money badly. When Varla suggested the script to him, at first he wasn't interested. But then she mentioned the money, and he simply couldn't resist it. He needed the money more than anything at the time, and she seemed to think he could handle it.

As he thought about it now, he had his doubts. Fantasy, Mystery, and Romance was not his forte; he had done very little with the subjects in the past and he had very little experience with it. He was mainly a hard science-fiction and action-adventure writer, but he did cover fantasy and mystery, to some extent, in a few short-stories. It was the short-stories he had written that had convinced Tenrut that he was capable, but those were merely short-stories.

She wanted a novella-length script for an hour to 90 minute play. If the play were good enough, it might even be turned into an episode for a series or a movie.

Of course, he didn't have to do it. He hadn't made any promises or any contract deal with her. He merely told her he'd think about it and get back to her. She gave him the idea that it was just another option and not a priority. She was interested in good scripts for plays and willing to pay well for a good original script, to anyone who could produce one. Anyone ... meaning he was just another writer who she was interested in. For all he knew, he could be in competition with a dozen others.

But the deal seemed legitimate and he did need the money. If there was any chance at all that he could produce a good, original Fantasy-Mystery with Romance, he thought it could be a probable source of income. He knew how badly he needed the money, no doubt about that. He was looking at the possibility of homelessness if he didn't find a way to make more money. The meager stipend he was getting for his services in the past, along with the bits he was scraping out of his ebooks, just wasn't enough to keep up with the high cost of living in the 21st century.

The truth was he was suffering from poverty in purgatory, but like most men his age, unwilling to admit it. At 45, the fact that he was still suffering below the poverty-line was nothing to advertise. He hated admitting how poor he was because it was not simply humiliating, it also attracted the wrong kind of people and the wrong kind of attitude. Too many people, he had discovered from experience, liked to make suckers of poor people and seemed to think they could use them for cheap, hard labor jobs.

Tenrut had more than his share of cheap, hard labor jobs in the past, and he was thoroughly sick of such dead ends going nowhere, along with the macho-males he was forced to associate with on such jobs. Most of them were not college educated, like he was, and most were muscular ex-military or ex-cons who seemed to think he was a wimp just because he was not muscular and not into sports.

Tenrut sat back and thought about his situation again. When he asked himself how he got himself into this again, this time he reflected not just on the job with the script he had accepted, but on his entire existence. The truth was, he really felt lost, and wondered how he had got himself into any of it. It was then that he recalled his youth, 25 years ago, just after high school, during his years struggling to get somewhere in college.

Things had not gone well for him with college. He had suffered from a bad love affair, during his last year of high school, and upon entering college, had been still in a depression about it. To make matters worse, he failed the math and chemistry classes, and saw his ambitions to work in the field of applied science fade away.

He did very poorly in college, grade-wise, but learned enough about electronics to understand how all of the electronic gadgets worked and how to fix them. Eventually, he also learned about computers and how to fix them also. But it wasn't really what he wanted to do and he had a hard time finding work in a field with so much competition. He failed when it came to love and romance, and also did poorly with people and socialization.

He realized he didn't have much going for him, up against all the competition, and the fact that he was poor didn't help. The competition was really hard for a poor man such as himself. He had a really hard time finding work and holding onto a job. His job security was also very poor due to a lack of experience and a very mediocre work-history.

He eventually did manage to learn something about computers and computer programs which helped him develop his skills as a writer and an artist, and his knowledge about electronics and how computer hardware worked gave him some advantage in the field. But the competition in the computer age was even worse than it was when he was just out of college in the 1980s. He was no computer genius, not by a long shot, and so when he admitted to working with computers, everyone always expected too much from him and he simply didn't know enough to impress them.

Nevertheless, his skills with computer programs evolved into a field of specialization, within the area of writing and computer graphics. He was skilled as a writer with computer programs and with computer graphics. Unfortunately, there really wasn't much demand for either of these trades, so he still found himself wanting for lack of resources and skills.

Recently, he had some very strange experiences which led him to believe that he was at some kind of multivertical conjunction between parallel realities. Tenrut wrote in his journal about the mysterious conjunction he had discovered, in an effort to understand the complexity of his situation.

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At a Conjunction between Parallel Realities

I'm alone at a conjunction between parallel realities. I've been alone for about 25 years now, more or less. There are spirits around me, spiritual forms which I have come to realize may actually be life-forms at different frequencies, which inhabit the other parallels. I cannot see them or touch them, for they have no material, physical substance within the physical, material reality in which I myself exist. But I can hear them, to some extent, just not well enough to follow everything they say.

After giving it much thought and from subconscious experiences during my sleeping periods, I have been able to reach certain conclusions which are quite difficult to prove at this time, however do make sense, at least to me, from my perspective, as I exist at the conjunction between parallels.

Apparently, from my experience, I have been able to deduce that I have many parallel counterparts in many parallel realities. How many counterparts in how many realities I do not know. I'm fairly certain that there are more than one or two parallel counterparts of myself in more than one or two parallel realities. I have the ability to communicate with the other parallel realities through my counterparts because we share certain close parallels, such as the basic geometric structure in which we reside, and spiritual friends and companions.

I have had many subconscious experiences within the other parallel realities, vivid dreams which all would appear to be much more than simple dreams. I have revisited parallel realities and spent time with parallel counterparts and familiar friends and companions. At times, the experiences have been so realistic in physical substance that the reality cannot be denied. These have not been simple dreams. I am convinced that they are parallel realities.

It's a mystery how this conjunction between parallels came to be. I can only theorize from what I know from what I have learned from past experience. What it has become for me is undeniable: it is a complex purgatory with many problems which I have to work with constantly to prevent it from becoming a nightmare in hell.

Perhaps I have reached a level of consciousness which was never explained to me by anyone or any written words before and so I was not well prepared for it, or perhaps my indisol was simply so lost by mistakes and accidents in my past it had no where else to go. Perhaps this is some kind of punishment for the mistakes I made in the past, I do not know.

One thing I can say about this solitary experience. It's not a life, it is a sentence in purgatory.

Perhaps the hardest part about this loveless purgatory is not the work, which keeps me from becoming bored and depressed, but the time taken off from work, in which my physical body requires some maintenance to keep it going and my mind requires some escape from work to keep it sane.

Apparently, whether I like it or not, the spirits have too much influence over my free time off from work. That is perhaps one of the aspects which makes it more like purgatory than anything. For normally, one would expect to be rewarded for doing good peace-work like a robot four or five days a week. Not only have I not received any actual physical love from anyone, for all of the devoted, hard work I have done, I have not even been able to have a fantasy without some spirits from at least one parallel making me feel guilty for it.

No matter what kind of fantasy I have had during my free time, some spirits from some parallel have always hated me for it and held it against me as proof that i am guilty in some way for not doing things their way. In other words, there have always seemed to be spirits from at least one parallel who have not liked my fantasies and made me feel guilty for not spending my free-time doing things their way, according to their dictates.

What they have failed to understand is that without any real physical companionship or love from anyone in this cold, loveless purgatory, I have been inclined to explore a variety of fantasies because mere fantasies alone, without actual substance, are no substitute for the real thing. What they have failed to understand is exactly what I am trying to explain now: I am alone at a conjunction between parallels surrounded by spirits without real, physical substance. Alone.

All of them may have substance within their own parallels at their own specific frequencies, but to me they are merely nonphysical spirits because we are at different frequencies in different parallel realities.

For example, I will site an unfortunate incident which occurred on Thursday night, shortly after 7 pm. I began to dwell upon my solitary situation again, as I have so many times in the past, because it was going into the weekend and my work was about done, and I didn't know what to do with my free time. Now, it's not like I started to lose it completely, as I have so often done in the past, but I felt it necessary to point out why my situation was as bad as it was and I didn't want to fall into another guilt trip and deep depression.

So I merely pointed out the fact that my solitary disposition within the loveless purgatory was actually caused by my step-brother's lies between 1975 and 1978, more or less. It was an attempt to avoid the guilt trip and deep depression, nothing more. But unfortunately, it didn't stop there this time. I thought about how much I hated step-brother for what he did and said more than I should have. I was very mad and lost my cool for a minute, as I so often had done in the past.

At the time, I didn't know it, but my angry words directed towards the subject of step-brother frightened a young spirit, who apparently was actually a spiritual friend and companion of one of my counterparts in another parallel, at another frequency. I scared the poor, young spiritual friend of my counterpart so much; she was inclined to leave the parallel apartment.

Well, I didn't know that I had scared her away that night. I didn't know my words had frightened her so much that she left the parallel apartment and stayed away that night. I didn't find out about it until the early morning, while I was sleeping, when I heard her crying outside. I knew something was wrong and thought it over, and imagined myself going to the door to open it and let her inside.

But even though my imagination acted as a suggestion to my counterpart, I'm not exactly sure what happened after that. Later that day, I fell asleep again in the afternoon because I didn't get enough sleep the night before, and I had another dream, in which she stormed into the apartment, clearly very mad about something, and said, I had to stay out all night!.

After stating this fact very clearly so there was no denying her words, she stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut after her. At first, her words and the way in which she said them frightened me from my rest and warned me to put my guard up and expect the worse.

But then, as I awoke from the nap and thought about it, I began to understand what had happened and felt very guilty for it.

I'm really sorry, I said, to the spirit, from the lonely conjunction I had awoken to. I was alone in the loveless purgatory again, but I hoped that my counterpart in the other parallel, where the spiritual friend I had hurt had real substance, would understand what went wrong also and speak the words I was speaking, to convey the apology.

For about 30 minutes after waking from the dream, I apologized to the spiritual companion I had hurt and told her that my anger from the night before was not meant for her. I don't know if the counterpart in the other parallel reality conveyed the apology as much as I did, but all I could do was try.

It was at that time that I began to realize just how serious my disposition was. It was at that time that I began to understand that I was at some kind of conjunction between parallel realities and that my parallel counterparts were actually acting, talking, and thinking in ways which were close parallels to me. Despite the fact that I was completely alone at the conjunction within my own solitary parallel, and they were obviously not alone like me, they were acting, talking, and thinking like me.

That has become the source of a complex problem for all of us, apparently, from all of the subconscious dreams I have experienced in the past.

For the sake of those who would have doubts in my words, I'd like to point out the nature of my individual disposition. One fact which stands above all others to explain the nature of my poor disposition within the loveless purgatorial parallel is the fact that I am poor. My material wealth and income has been so low that I could not even afford to pay for an automobile, which may be considered one of the primary necessities within this parallel reality (this loveless purgatory), for anyone who expects to be able to play people games and participate in such things as romance, dates, love, and sex on weekends and holidays.

Within this parallel reality which I presently reside, a man such as myself cannot expect to be able to enjoy people games which include dates, romance, love or sex, without an automobile, or the equivalent in wealth to make up for it. It is a fact of the parallel which is unavoidable.

The spirits of the close parallel realities which my counterparts exist within and which all apparently have physical substance fixed within specific frequencies of electromagnetism do not understand the nature of my disposition and how it has isolated me alone at the conjunction between parallels in a loveless purgatory.

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Boring! a voice said, out of the blue quite suddenly.

He stopped typing at the computer, looked around to the corners of his meager one-room apartment, and saw no one anywhere.

Thinking the voice had come from outside through one of the open windows, he ignored it and turned back to the computer. He was writing about how things had gone for him after college and it was getting nowhere but to a dead end.

Borr-rring!! the voice said again, and he looked up to the left, in the direction it had come, over the wall-partition at the center of the apartment, and still saw nothing. Again he thought the voice was from someone right outside his window, one of the neighbors perhaps, so he ignored it again, and went back to work.

You just don't get it, do you? the voice said.

He looked up again to the left, from where the voice had come, saw no one, and began to think he should close the window, because the voice was beginning to disturb him.

He went