Some Random Thoughts

Posted on May 7, 2017 by ehurst

We don’t embrace the imperative of winning. Even scaled out to national survival, the Christian Mystic’s approach is that God is running the show, and His whims are inscrutable regarding such things. Instead, we focus on righteousness in the process. It’s the one thing that’s in our hands. Not that we can control ourselves in any strict sense of performance, but that we can learn to feed our own desires for holiness. God measures holiness in terms of desire, not in outcomes. It’s this outcomes-based obsession that is destroying the West. The Western consciousness scrambles hardest for outcomes, and it is the one thing no one can control.

Perhaps you heard about the way the FBI managed to seize control of a child porn website (“Playpen”) hidden away on the “dark web.” You might have heard that they held control of it for some time, using it as a honey trap to plant malware on computers of those who visited this members-only website. They have been condemned publicly for serving up child porn in the process. Both the porn serving and the malware have been condemned. Their defense is varied around themes of tactics that produced measurable results with hundreds of arrests once the users were all tracked down via that malware. But the real problem is that they already know the names of thousands of US government figures, both elected and appointed, who are directly engaged in both child porn and child molestation, but they refuse to investigate and prosecute. It would destroy the government.

Did you know that there is at least one genuine Open Source project aimed at producing a free version of Windows? It’s called ReactOS. It’s struggling due to lack of sponsorship, but the developers are giving it serious effort in their spare time. As you might expect, it’s a massive undertaking and they are way behind the curve. It’s not even close to ready for actual use and the target keeps moving. At one time I really believed this was a great idea. Not any more. I’m convinced that the Windows approach to things is already dead. It has nothing to do with any emotional commitment to any alternative, but a genuine conviction in my soul that the time-space window has closed on Windows. It has nothing to do with technical merits either way; it’s the inherent failure of centralized control. Its end is here. The longer people hang onto Windows, the more painful will be the shift when it is forced on us.

And if you think that’s an ugly picture, wait until it starts biting into the mobile device market. The current trend toward conglomeration among cell phone providers has not yet run its course, but somewhere not too far down the road, this trend will become impossible to maintain. Only the necessity of infrastructure and current technology keeps it alive. Once alternatives arise, the industry will become chaotic.

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The Courier 08

Posted on May 7, 2017 by ehurst

Nothing could have prepared Franklin for what happened.

It was surreal. The man seemed to have no trouble visually identifying Franklin’s location. The average human would have had trouble differentiating between the camouflage and the surrounding rocks. However, Franklin had heard there were just a few people who were born with some strange ability to see it, as if the cover was painted bright yellow. But that was the least of his talents.

The man seemed apologetic about bothering Franklin in his very important mission of protecting everyone. He offered profuse and eloquent thanks for Franklin enduring such privation to keep everyone safe. It was disarming, almost hypnotic. Was this man really so dangerous to everyone? Only when Franklin reached back from his mind into his heart did he find a flaming confirmation to watch out for this scheming liar.

“Please don’t let me distract you. My boss — such a fine man to work for — wanted me to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. It won’t bother me at all if you keep your eyes out for trouble.” It was all so soothing.

Franklin wasn’t having it, but he mustered a nonchalant warmth. “There is more security around you folks today than normally covers this whole valley. I’ve been told to relax until your party leaves the area.”

“I see. That’s good, I suppose.” The man sat on a convenient rock across from Franklin. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Your team held off a truly monumental attack, thanks in no small part to your sharp tactical readiness.”

Franklin noticed how the man never quite pushed beyond the limits. He as careful not to let it sound excessive. He seemed to know just how much Franklin would be inclined to believe. Franklin did his best to respond in kind, indicating that Joe was smart enough to have the crawlers ready to do most of the work.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to work with competent men, isn’t it?”

Franklin nodded with a smile. He was trying to avoid saying too much.

“Sometimes I see that kind of camaraderie in the face of challenges and wished that I had had the nerve to spend some time the military. Yet your actual mission is still rather solitary, no?”

“We used to work with a spotter, but the modern technology has made that unnecessary. In the end, it’s the guy with his finger on the trigger that has to make the shot.” It was boilerplate sniper school platitudes.

“And you seem to be the best there is out here on this project. What will you do when this is over?” The man knew how to steer a conversation.

Franklin, tilted his head to one side and his eyes pointed upward a bit. “Not too sure. To be honest, I feel like this is what I was born to do.” That much was the truth.

“So if someone offered you a similar job, you’d take it?” The man seemed faintly eager for an answer.

Franklin shrugged. “I might. Depends on who or what the targets were.” It was Franklin’s turn to dangle bait.

The man smiled as if at some joke. “I’m told you don’t struggle with the ugly necessities of the targets that present themselves here.” That was putting it delicately. This must have been a major point on the man’s intention here.

“It’s a matter of loyalty. Mine is not for sale, but it can be earned.” Would that deter the man?

He nodded sagely. “That’s what makes you the man. I’d really like for you to meet my boss. He has worked very hard to earn my trust and loyalty. He’s really a genuine man, someone that inspires everyone near him to work hard, and he rewards us all in ways that really matter. I know you can’t meet him today, but I want to leave you his personal phone number. I am firmly convinced that a couple of conversations with him and you’ll see what I mean. It’s not just the money, generous as it is, but all of us working for him feel like it’s everything we’ve ever dreamed. He seems to know exactly what makes life worth living.”

The man pulled out a business card. It was plain and dignified and it featured the assumed name of the fraudulent actor and his personal phone number, and nothing else.

“Thank you, sir.” Franklin took the card and put it into the vest pocket inside his coat.

As the man rose, he turned and said, “Oh, and I am quite certain he can insure you get to keep using that same weapon. He can pull strings like no one else I’ve known.” Then he ducked out from under the camouflage and picked his way down the hill.

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Psalm 130

Posted on May 6, 2017 by ehurst

Our greatest difficulty in reading the Psalms is that we struggle to enter the Hebrew mind. This short piece sounds so much like David for its depth of passion, but there were others who caught the same fire for the Lord. In this short piece, we can catch a glimpse of that same path of devotion.

This song begins with recognition of our fallen nature. We live in the depths of delusion and sin; it is our natural state. But we were not made for this, and we know it instinctively, so we seek redemption, some small measure of restoration. From the depths of our cursed existence, we cry out to Jehovah. His court alone has jurisdiction for this sorrow. There is no other help, so we call to Him alone.

Should it be that God preserves the record of our failures, there would be no hope. No one but God is holy by nature. Yet in His holiness, forgiveness is also His nature. He blots out the record of our sins. The logic here is simple: If none are pardoned, then there is no one to give Him glory on the earth. For His divine justice to be apparent, for His fame and repute to live on the earth, there must be those who have been delivered by His justice and live to sing His praises.

The concept of “wait” in Hebrew here is binding together, of me wrapping my whole existence and welfare in His desires for me. What He reveals to me is life itself; His divine moral character is the fabric of existence. What He reveals is reality. Thus, there is no higher priority. Standing watch at night can be long and lonely, cold and exhausting, but a guard’s investment in relief at the dawn cannot compare to my depth of desire to know what God wants for me next.

And this passionate personal experience is not mine alone; it is the nature of our calling and covenant as the people of Jehovah. So the psalmist calls on his nation to join him in trusting Jehovah alone as the sole source of mercy. The Lord has more than enough redemption to cover every soul that calls on His name. Regardless how great our failures, He’s there to redeem it all.

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On Divine Feminine Nature

Posted on May 6, 2017 by ehurst

There’s a lot of noise about whether God has a feminine side. It came up again in some offline discussion around here and my thoughts are noncommittal.

First, there is some ambivalence about how the ancients approached this question. There is a vast array of ancient pagan reasoning that has bubbled up into modern thinking on it, and as you might expect, it’s read back into the Bible. As near as I can tell, there’s nothing to denigrate feminine nature in itself, but there has always been a big problem with making a feminine deity that is based on fallen awareness. But it’s the same with shaping an image of God from a fallen masculine viewpoint. The big deal with the cultic Baal and Asherah worship was that all of the doctrine arises from fallen awareness; it’s contrary to revelation. Whatever it is you associate with deity has to come from a higher source. Don’t dispute what’s revealed.

Second, I’ve made much of how you must find your own comfort zone. Theology is not revealed from heaven; it’s the individual mind’s response to revelation. Theology is propositional. God’s truth is not propositional but personal. Truth is Person, not intellectual content. Your mind will operate in terms of structure and content, so the trick is to teach your mind to obey conviction, because conviction is the part of our souls where God’s Person speaks to us.

So: If your theology reflects a feminine element that is too fallen, you will be barking up the wrong tree. It will be the Forbidden Fruit, not the Tree of Life. A critical element in the narrative of the Fall is Eve making a decision that was outside her purview. It symbolizes all kinds of improper elevation of a woman’s approach to things. Adam failing to stop her represents an improper elevation of the masculine approach. It’s not a question of equality if “equal” means interchangeable. There’s a reason for Scripture uniformly condemning females in the priesthood; it’s not their proper role.

I’m not going to tell you that you can’t imagine the Holy Spirit as somehow feminine. It seems to me manifestly obvious that this is proper in some ways, but I call to your attention how the Holy Spirit does not receive glory, but always shines glory back on Christ. Whether you want to use the feminine pronouns for the Holy Spirit is up to you; just note that most translations in English do not. Also not that in classical English, as with biblical languages, the masculine is the default; it is inclusive of both genders. The context should make obvious whether it’s pointedly masculine or inclusive. I don’t buy into the current politically correct trend of “fixing” this linguistic gender bias. At the same time, I’m not telling you that you have to do it my way. Don’t assume I am make no place for the feminine.

As it is, I’m not strictly trinitarian in the first place, not in the sense of Western theological traditions. I think the tradition makes too much of propositional reasoning and misses the point. I also reject the Unitarian teaching, too, with a whole range of other ideas. The Holy Spirit is for me more a role than a distinct separate Person. I maintain that the truth escapes human intellectual grasp, so it’s fuzzy. I refuse to nail it down to anyone’s logical satisfaction. That’s the same with the question as to whether and how God might have a feminine nature. You have to settle that question in your own mind, and there’s no doubt your cultural background will play a part.

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The Courier 07

Posted on May 6, 2017 by ehurst

Barry had troubled dreams of earth turned into a gray, smoking landscape of craters, devoid of life.

While it filled him with a resolve to act, he couldn’t find anything he might do that satisfied that inner demand. Maybe it would show itself when the time came. But this morning he faced the unpleasant prospect of the VIPs returning for an early breakfast in the company executive dining room while the chopper was being readied for flight over on the airfield. They were dressed for the rugged outdoors and carried coats. Something very evil was going to happen today.

It left him feeling almost helpless when they boarded the bus and rode off to their chopper. He watched from across the way as the blades began spinning up. The bus pulled up on the taxi apron near where the big helicopter was running. The VIPs emerged clinging to their loose clothing and boarded the luxurious craft. A few minutes later it rose and headed out toward the pipeline.

Franklin had his own concerns. He, too, had a sense of foreboding, despite the currently relaxed atmosphere. For reasons no one bothered to explain, the troops had been extra busy the past two days with intensely aggressive patrols, ranging out more than twenty kilometers on either side of the pipeline. Bess had suggested it was to improve security before the VIPs arrived. It really bothered him that everyone in uniform seemed so subservient and compliant about it. Bess had given him a digest of the radio traffic between the commanders, and you would think it was the Coalition supreme headquarters that was coming to visit. Had this evil man bought them, too?

Between Bess and his tactical scanner, there was precious little moving out there where his crawler team had been working. They were just going through the motions. Franklin could have taken a holiday and it would have made no difference. It occurred to him it felt like some kind of seduction, but more complicated than that. He let his feelings rise where he could see them clearly. It was an odd mixture of frustration and embarrassment with a creeping laziness. While he seldom let such feelings get in the way of taking his job seriously, it helped to be aware of this toxic stew. It made him feel like someone was trying to set him up, preparing him for playing as a sucker.

Bess broke into his reverie to alert him to the presence of the VIP chopper over the pipeline route. It was approaching for the simple reason that Franklin’s team was currently out on the far end just beyond the preparatory digging crews and their massive earth-moving machinery. Their ostensible assignment had been to prevent rebels from setting mines in the area or otherwise hindering the work. The contractors had just brought out the first few components of a boring machine that would cut a tunnel under the mountains within sight of where Franklin’s team was camping.

Of course, the VIP chopper was escorted by several gunbirds. Looking around again, Franklin suddenly realized that about the only place they could set such a bird down was practically in his lap. His nest wasn’t that far from the camp, up on a rise that gave him a grand view of the area. Up here in the mountains, the clouds were a little thick and it was cooler than the areas his team had covered in recent weeks. But Bess told him that VIP chopper had all kinds of navigational aids that made a lot of noise across the radio spectrum. In that sense, Bess could “see” the chopper with great precision.

Then Franklin’s tactical sensor sounded an alarm and the display indicated the chopper was going to land. That’s why they had sent Barry out with the disks, to add the VIP chopper’s signature to his “don’t-shoot” registry. The flight plans were not published as distinct plans, but on an as-needed basis, and the chopper was following one of them today. So whatever it was these VIPs were doing, it involved seeing this camp and the terrain during the early process of laying the pipeline. Franklin normally took it in stride when anyone important came into his zone of fire, but this whole thing put him on edge. That man was aboard the chopper and he was up to no good.

Was this the enemy that his internal alarm system had been buzzing about in his sleep, making him tense since before he awoke this morning?

The big, noisy bird buzzed right over his head before it spun around and settled quickly and gracefully on the only landing spot around. The gunbirds rose back up into the sky and took up overwatch in the vicinity. The artificial wind disturbed his camouflage cover, but it didn’t blow off. It was designed to withstand truly terrifying storm winds.

To his surprise, the engines were actually shut down. It was audible in the way the turbine engines dropped in pitch below the roar and into a descending whine. A large male figure hopped onto the ground, followed by two older women and a smaller, older man. The rest apparently decided to stay on the bird; Franklin could see their heads through the windows on the side as they looked out. Franklin ran through a mental estimate and realized that it was wholly unlikely they had lighted anywhere else on the way out this far. It was still mid-morning.

Those who got out were welcomed by the tech crew. They had gotten the warning, too, and moved out one of the crawlers for a demonstration. There was a couple of easy fake targets well away from anything that was important, so Franklin settled himself to watch the show. He seldom got to see the crawlers fire their pulse cannons, since the machines did all their work at night. Even during that battle that had gotten so much attention, he didn’t have time to watch them fire.

The frumpy man spoke to Joe and, to Franklin’s dismay, he pointed toward the sniper’s nest. The man left the group and began picking his way up the slope toward him.

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The Courier 06

Posted on May 5, 2017 by ehurst

Barry had delightful stay with Franklin.

It was the first time he had met someone face-to-face who understood his connection to nature. Franklin wasn’t so intense as Barry, but sensed the same things on a lesser scale. They chatted about their shared experience as members of the Shepherd’s Household way late into the night.

The next morning, as he was packing his gear, Bess announced that the seals were blown on the right front shock. There was no way to repair it out there. It was ridable, but it meant sticking to the roads and moving slowly where the pavement was rough. Barry called his actual supervisor to report the situation, and was instructed to do pretty much what he had already decided.

It was a bit clumsy to Franklin, but Barry couldn’t resist hugging the elder sniper and thanking him again.

A thousand things went through his mind on the long ride back. But as he drew closer to the base, his thoughts were dominated by the presence of the VIPs. Most of all, it was the unsettling man who appeared nothing more than a personal assistant to Mister Big. To his relief, when he checked in at the base, he found the VIPs had taken a mini tour of the local sights. They had managed to find limos for rent locally — with complementary military security escorts, of course. A major feature of their tour included several archaeological monuments from the ancient past. Only in the past few months had it become safe enough for that kind of tourism, given the turmoil the country had been through. It would be a few days until they returned from their pampered stay in the most expensive hotels. During that time a fancy chopper arrived, apparently another accommodation owned by Mister Big. It was hauled out of the back of a cargo plane, then unfolded and tested.

Between fixing the bike and some lightweight errands, Barry was able to stay out the big boss’s way. The man was constantly keeping track of what the VIPs needed and it was clear he would be glad when this ordeal was over. But when Barry’s new phone arrive, the big boss gave him the third degree. Barry figured it was just a matter of venting at someone who couldn’t push back, so he took it in stride. He was assured the phone would not betray its nature to anyone Barry didn’t want to know about it. It remained dead when the boss looked it over. Barry said he would have to charge it overnight before he could use it. As he had hoped, the boss never mentioned it again.

Meanwhile, Barry went out to one of his quiet places out near one corner of the base fence-line. First he held up his old phone. Ned had told him to hold the new one next to the old for a minute or two and it would copy everything automatically. The new device’s screen lit up and was blank for a few moments. Then it said, Ready. He watched it a little longer as nothing seemed to happen.

Suddenly it spoke to him. “Hi, Barry. My name is Torrie.” It sounded just like some girl he knew back home, with that same southern twang.

He grinned, then started laughing out loud. “Girl, looks like you have me figured out already.”

“Well, not just yet, but I’m working on it,” Torrie assured him.

Barry never lost awareness that this was just a computer with AI. Still, it amused him to talk to it just like he did everything else in his world. Only, instead of sometimes a subtle response that might register deep in his soul, Torrie talked back audibly. This actually helped remind him that the phone was not a part of his mystical world, just a tool to get things done.

And what a tool it was! Torrie made herself at home in his world, scanning everything and telling him things he could not have known any other way. He wasn’t blind to the implications of this capability and made it a point to hang around the office a good bit so that, whatever it was Torrie’s AI did snooping on the company’s computers, it got a good chance to make the most of it.

That first evening, after most of the routine activity had shut down for the night, Barry walked out under a cluster of trees and sat on the ground. He pulled Torrie out and was about to engage in more of his inane chatter when she reported that the VIPs were not what they appeared. Mister Big was using a false name, which actually belonged to the frumpy assistant. Ned had assembled a slide-show with narrative she read off to him. The real Mister Big had become camera shy right before going to college. He managed to miss out on all the typical sittings and left no face. That he kept to himself and avoided most social events only made him more invisible at the university. However, his name did appear associated with at least two elite secret societies.

Those societies had been officially disbanded during the years of crisis that saw the international banking system come apart. It also saw several national governments change, and even some borders, and things were only now beginning to stabilize in Western countries. Of course, the big multi-national companies managed to survive, and partly in thanks to a group of investors that included Mister Big. By the time his face started showing again, it was the one everyone saw attached to that name today.

So obviously Mister Big was a fake who kept an assistant that followed him everywhere, the man who was the real Mister Big. The faker got all the fame and fun, while the real guy actually ran things from behind the scenes. The slide show didn’t go into too much background, but noted that this man had invested in all kinds of companies, and was rumored to pass out a lot of bribes through false front companies. Just for good measure, AI discovered that the ladies’ investment club was another front, and the trio in his entourage were actually relatives. The man was fake in every way. Over the past few days, Ned’s AI had dug deep and found that Mister Big had been tracking carefully the weakest links in the current alliance between Coalition governments and the big corporations that were involved in the pipeline. This whole thing must have seemed to him his one best chance to exploit instability.

This man was using leverage from stock ownership on the companies, and bribes in government, with an eye to grabbing some obscene amount of power. And in the process he had betrayed an utter contempt for human life — “life” by any definition. The unassuming old nerd was a demonic thug.

Barry was silent for awhile. Then he asked Torrie if this awful man was equally contemptuous about natural resources.

She didn’t respond right away, then said, “Looks like he would be just fine turning the whole world into a radioactive swamp, given his investments and things he has sponsored.”

That settled matters for Barry. At the cost of his own life, that man had go. He couldn’t bring himself to think of killing in that sense, but this had to be stopped. He phoned up Franklin and asked if he had seen the same information. Franklin had caught it earlier in the day, and agreed they should work together with Ned to do something. He asked Barry to keep him up to date with the VIPs movements, even if he had no idea yet what they could do.

Barry concluded with, “We got some serious praying to do.”

“Amen,” Franklin agreed.

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Behind My Fiction

Posted on May 4, 2017 by ehurst

Call it what it is.

People need health care. There is no way in Hell the US economy can support what the people could use, so the only question is how much is “enough” to be worth the trouble. The issue with Obamacare is not a question of health care, but was always meant to plunder the nation for the sake of Big Healthcare (which includes Big Pharma). The term “health care management” refers to an added layer of bureaucracy that gouges the price and scrapes off a big chunk of the money passing through its hands. Big Healthcare designed and wrote Obamacare; it’s sucking healthy people dry to pay for a medical welfare program. Don’t get bogged down in the alleged moral questions here helping the needy: It’s too big of a drain on the economy and it was failing as soon as it was signed into law.

This works about the same as Big Defense. It’s always been a huge drain on the economy; the productivity of human economic activity is absorbed by massively expensive boondoggles that profit only a thin slice of our nation’s population. The whole thing becomes outrageously expensive, with prices further inflated by the artificially high demand. Further, the actual quality of what you get for all that money is frankly very low in broad terms. Again, it has nothing to do with alleged moral questions of whether our military money is doing anything useful. It’s true of Obamacare and Defense both. The problem is our economy is going broke because the drain is too big and the economy is stumbling under the load.

Whatever you may think of him, I’m convinced Putin got this part correct:

In the West, voters cannot change policies through elections, because the ruling elites control whoever is elected. Elections give the appearance of democracy, but voting does not change the policies that favor war and the elites. Therefore, the will of the people is impotent.

People are experiencing that they and their votes have no influence on the conduct of affairs of the country. This makes them afraid, frustrated, and angry, a combination of emotions that is dangerous to the ruling elite, who in response organize the powers of the state against the people, while urging them with propaganda to support more wars.

I find it highly unlikely we’ll do anything much in North Korea. I believe it’s a distraction from the real plans. I feel certain we’ll invade Syria and I’ll try to paint a picture of why.

1. One original issue that got us involved was two competing gas pipeline proposals, both supposed to run across Syria. The one favored by the US could run north from Jordan up through Deir Ezzor and into Turkey. Compare that with the tactical situation on the ground right now. The US bombing of the Syrian enclave in Deir Ezzor and helping ISIS shows the intent to seize the whole corridor, because ISIS will deal — it’s supported and funded by the US. Assad rejected that pipeline in part because of his alliance with Russia. It’s not merely the Russian gas company’s profits at stake here. This is part of a much bigger problem Russia has with attempts by the US to isolate her.

2. The other issue at stake is Israel’s interest in breaking up Syria: Oil under the Golan Heights. Of course, we know that Israel has a much broader interest in supporting Sunnis at the expense of any majority Shiite government (Syria, Iran, parts of Iraq, Hezbollah in Lebanon, etc.). This business of the Sunni-Shiite conflict is bigger than most Westerners comprehend, but the Sunnis generally will deal with Israel, while the Shiites generally will not. ISIS and al-Qaeda are Sunni extremists. You cannot simply ignore the Zionist agenda if you want to understand this mess. Israel is who drew up the plans for destabilizing Syria a decade ago, and the US pretty much followed those plans.

My point is that the US economy won’t support this our involvement. Something’s going to break and it could happen any day now. It could be the smallest thing that sets it off. To be honest, I’m frankly expecting a computer-related disaster to be the kick-off. Think about all the things government and big business do that require the Internet, and then imagine that something disrupts that networking. It would precipitate a crisis that is just waiting to burst open and spill out.

I still insist it won’t be Armageddon, but the plutocrats would like us to believe it is because it will be for them. The manipulation and abuse have pushed the “little people” to the brink. The frustration with Trump’s betrayal is starting to boil, but the people who feel the most pain aren’t the rioting type. When crisis hits they will demand sensible action, and they won’t compromise much. Nobody can predict how much, but there will be bloodshed, in part because the plutocrats are so freaking stupid about it.

Meanwhile, the rioting types harassing the majority will exacerbate things and get themselves shot. Most of them have been hired, and they don’t know/don’t care that they are being used to protect the status quo. But they aren’t a big enough problem to prevent a broad right-wing uprising that will remain mostly peaceful.

Once again: The main point about Trump’s election was never what he said he would do. It’s what his administration will permit in terms of keeping a peaceful uprising possible. His flaccid performance will ensure it’s not necessary to slaughter a bunch of Feds to change things. Don’t expect the world to be a better place; do expect major changes.

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The Courier 05

Posted on May 4, 2017 by ehurst

“Yessss!” It included a positive recommendation for Barry from his elder. He quickly ordered a duplicate of Franklin’s phone and requested a slightly different AI profile, something matching Barry’s age and background. This time they found an even faster courier service, piggybacking on one used by the senate committee.

Ned wasn’t even dressed yet before he looked at the picture and AI’s collation with other photos already on record. Then AI indicated that something was amiss regarding one figure, because even with full access to facial recognition records, he was still a complete cipher.

Ned felt a chill. AI indicated the records for the supposed big shot came to a dead end just a few years back. His biography was there, but it was missing too many essential indicators, as if the man had a fake ID. He existed, but there simply weren’t enough reference photos during most of his adult life. AI suggested they had been scrubbed. All those normal candid photos at the big events that men like this attended, news clippings, etc. — all missing. The guy was supposed to have gone to school right here in town. Where were the yearbooks? Eventually AI dredged up a copy from the municipal library. Most every book had been scanned and was available online. The pictured showed a younger version of the same handsome guy, but it was iffy.

AI then said the photo of the page had been modified. “That’s what you get when you digitize all your paper records,” Ned muttered. Where was that school?

It had been closed just a year or so after Mister Big had graduated. The buildings still stood on a fenced lot. AI said the city had issued a permit for demolition, but it wasn’t resubmitted by any contractors. Most likely it was down to contract disputes with unions; that stuff could hang up in lawsuits for years, even decades. Maybe Ned could find the building and take a look around.

He found the campus alright. It was overgrown, strewn with trash and the high fence had signs warning about trespassing. There were no guards in sight, and after strolling around the property taking pictures with his phone, AI displayed the message that the surveillance cameras appeared to be unmonitored during daylight hours, but recording nonetheless. Great; with the police patrols gliding by twice while he was in the area, jumping the fence in broad daylight was out of the question. It was solid all the way around. And part of the reason the place was condemned was because the subterranean service lines had collapsed way back when, so he couldn’t even sneak in through the sewers.

AI then informed him the cameras could be hijacked for just a few moments if tried to enter at night. That was it, then. He headed back to his apartment and worked on other projects until dark.

He was pleased to find the skies were overcast, but not too pleased with the light rain when he came back that night. He noticed that the school’s old playground had been divided off long ago as a local park. This allowed him some cover because there were bushes along the fence between the playground and the closest wall of the main building. He waited until AI said the coast was clear, then sprang up and over the top with a quick flip. Landing in a cold puddle wasn’t fun at all.

He held his phone in front of him for a dim display that showed him how to avoid the trash and debris from years of decay and abuse by vagrants. A side door hung open, but the inside doorway was boarded up. He had expected that and pulled out a small nail-pulling bar from inside his coat. It was a little clumsy with gloved hands, but following AI’s guidance, he got just one corner to flex enough to let him slide inside. The best part of this was that his phone worked better than a flashlight, showing him where everything was as if in broad daylight. Where to start?

The old library was down at the other end of the building. He had to dodge some old furniture and other junk to get there. For two long hours he poured over the books still on the shelves and those on the floor. Between his searching hands and AI’s scan, nothing like a yearbook was in there. None of the loose papers offered any help. He sat down for just a few minutes in the one chair still standing and intact. Was this a waste of time?

He steeled himself and rose once more to search the rest of the building. He was just about to crawl back out under the corner of the plywood sheet when he spotted a decent sized supply room. One one shelf up high was an old stack of posters no one had touched. Ned flipped through them, slightly amused at what should have been a nostalgic collection of bulletin board art. About a third of the way down was a larger sheet folded in half. He dutifully set the stack on the floor and unfolded this larger piece of card stock.

At the top was emblazoned “SGA.” Ned muttered the phrase “student government association.” Below this headline was a series of firmly pasted photos of members of various clubs and organizations that year. In the dim light, Ned made out that it was the year Mister Big was supposed to have graduated. He decided he couldn’t wait. Allowing his smartphone just a small dim glow, he perused the pictures. Near the bottom — was that the investment club? This male dominated group posed with props that suggested old-timey trading floor boys, one holding what appeared to be an ancient stock-ticker.

One of the faces made Ned think it was the younger version of the dumpy nerd in that picture Franklin had sent. Ned’s heart raced. Damn the risks; he turned up the light enough to see. That was him! And the name in the caption matched Mister Big.

AI’s alarm went off; there was guard company car outside trying to unlock the gate to the campus. Folding the post on the fly, Ned almost ran to the stairwell, picking his way up the steps as quickly as he could. The landing split and ran back on both sides toward a long hallway matching the one on the first floor. Stuffing his phone inside the pocket under his arm, he hustled back along the hallway in the direction of the playground side. The one room on the front side was solidly boarded up on all the windows. Sprinting across the hall, he found another room with just one window that still had glass in it, and without any plywood. Of course, it was stuck fast even against his nailbar. The downstairs front door was rattling, so he squeezed the nailbar in his fist with just a tiny bit of sharp end poking out. Placing it against bottom window pane, he bumped the fist with his other hand. It took a couple of tries, but the glass spidered out and fell onto the roof below with only a little bit of noise.

Ned shoved the rest of the glass out, backed up and then dove straight through the opening. He somersaulted to a landing and rolled to his feet. The guards were calling out inside the building as he sprinted across the roof toward the fence. He slowed and realized he hadn’t tried such a long jump from that height. The landing would be hard.

He threw the nailbar ahead of him, then vaulted out across the gap. The trick on a vault like this is to tuck and roll just before hitting the ground. It would lessen the impact and give him a chance to roll his body on the ground. He just cleared the fence, but caught the left toe on a fixture atop an upright pole holding the wire. It put his landing just enough out of kilter to spoil the timing. Instead of a clean landing straight ahead, he was tilted to one side. He still managed to roll on impact, but it was cockeyed.

Ned got up and his right leg didn’t want to work. It wasn’t broken, he believed, but it hurt a lot to use it. He realized his right elbow and shoulder also hurt because he had instinctively tucked his arms in when he knew he hadn’t cleared the fence. All he could do was hobble away as quickly as possible. His device had survived and he used it to find the nailbar, which was just a couple of meters away. Hobbling across the unlit park, he cut through some bushes. Still favoring his right leg, he dodged the pool of light from a street lamp and turned up an alleyway that he knew should be open on the other end. It was here that AI notified him via the earplug that his right shin was cracked and would require treatment. Everything else was just bruises.

Limping more carefully now, he crossed the next street he came to. There was some sports bar at the corner, so he hobbled in that direction. Then he had an idea. Something he almost never did; he had AI call him a cab. He found a space outside the bar that seemed just perfectly made for resting his backside against a ledge without actually sitting down. It allowed him to take the weight off his bad leg. When the taxi finally arrived a half-hour later, there was still no sign of any pursuit from the direction of the school. Climbing in, he used his cell phone to transmit payment up front for fare to his own building, then pulled out the big poster he had folded up and gazed at the pictures while the driver headed the car down the street.

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Worship Video 03

Posted on May 3, 2017 by ehurst

Took a hike today and stopped to add another “Worship Anywhere” video:

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The Courier 04

Posted on May 3, 2017 by ehurst

Franklin took the disk; Barry’s job was done. He could stay here for the night and return to base tomorrow. Still, Franklin invited him to follow. He said something to one of the maintenance techs, then ducked into a smaller tent next to a Hummer. He offered Barry a seat on the cot and pulled out a netbook. Holding up the disk he asked, “I suppose you have no idea what’s on here?”

Barry shook his head and grinned. “Not my job to know.”

Franklin inserted the DVD into the drive tray on his netbook. Then he pulled out a cell phone and held it close to the netbook. He offered no explanation, but made no effort to hinder Barry watching. After a few minutes, the cell phone spoke in a gentle feminine voice. “The disk contains flight plans and aircraft signatures for helicopters to prevent accidental targeting.”

That made perfect sense to Barry; the VIPs were going to be flown out into the field to see the work first hand. And since Franklin’s team got one, it probably meant the VIPs were coming out to see them. He said as much, then pulled out his own cell phone and showed Franklin the image he captured that morning through the window blinds.

Pointing to the picture, he said, “That guy gives me the willies. You know what I mean?”

Franklin nodded. He had already felt a faint chill in his own soul just glancing at the picture. “I’m still learning from the elder’s writings, but there are some people in this world who just mean trouble for everyone. Whaddaya think, Bess?”

The cell phone quietly displayed the face of the obvious big shot, showing his name and associations as the head of some investment conglomeration. The two women were former models, while the other three represented a private investment club. The last guy was unknown. That didn’t help their sense of foreboding.

Barry rubbed his short hair. “Man, I sure could use a cell phone as smart as that one.”

Franklin snapped his fingers. “Hey, maybe I can help you with that. I received this as a gift from some of our brothers back home. You’ll have to get hold of them about it, but they told me they were praying they could find someone in the family who worked close to HQ.”

“That would be me,” Barry chuckled. “There ain’t no more family anywhere around that base or I would know.”

“Have you played any of the Shepherd games?”

“Nah,” Barry drawled. “I get on the forum when I can and I love those photographs people share.”

Franklin looked at his cell phone. “Bess, what’s the best way to get a message to Ned? Can we send it through the elder himself, maybe?”

The sweet feminine voice answered, “The elder’s site is hosted on one of Ned’s servers. Is that easy enough?”

They both had a good laugh at that. Franklin looked at Barry. “Pull out your cell phone, Bud.”

Barry complied. To his surprise, the screen automatically displayed the site and took him to a page for urgent messages. Barry’s eyes widened. “I never knew that was there.”

“You never needed it until now,” Franklin said.

As Barry was about to pull up the on-screen keyboard, it quickly typed itself into the message field in terse language asking to contact Ned to offer assistance. It was submitted automatically, too. Barry turned to Franklin and pointed at Bess. “Man, does she always take care of things like that?”

“She’s a good ol’ girl,” Franklin said, nodding his head.

“Tell ’em I want a girlfriend like that. That gal back at the base would eat me alive if I didn’t turn to stone whenever she’s around.”

They chatted for awhile as darkness fell.

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