Dearest Michael,
Reading your letter this morning brought such joy to my heart. I was most intrigued by your determination and resourcefulness in discovering the truth and it became too irresistible to ignore. At last the sacrifices made and the agony suffered was not in vain. Over the centuries more and more humans have awakened to the truth and this at last provides my soul with relief.
The Island of Manhattan has become my new home as of late. You may wonder why here out of all places. Well it’s quite simple, most keep to themselves allowing for someone like me to walk through the centuries unnoticed. I suspect you have never been here so allow me to describe Manhattan for you. Being a typical summer day in August the air is thick and muggy, and the heat releases the scents of this place into the atmosphere. You can navigate this little island just by following your nose.
As I walk out of the comfort of this air-conditioned suite of mine and unto the streets a gush of heat rushes towards my face and makes my skin moist and clammy. The broken city streets are over-crowded, car infested, with the revolting stench of diesel fuel and left-over garbage from fast food restaurants nearby makes any stomach cringe. Yet despite this, the Spanish lavender, and Eucalyptus nearby smell so singular and sublime. Ah! The alluring scent of coffee beans! Some delicate and earthy whilst others fruity and nutty and it was these delicious scents that brought me to enter this quaint little café in the middle of Manhattan where I could sit and write a response to your letter.
I make my way quickly inside, purchase a cup of coffee and look for a seat with a window view. On the table is my journal, dark and leather-bound, no elegant designs on its cover just some soft loose parchment sheets neatly bound inside beckoning to feel the cold, hard deep scratches of the tip of my fountain pen. Outside rain starts to descend rather quickly and amid all the noisy chatter from clientele rushing about, I have come to yield to the desires to engrave upon these loose sheets of parchment the story of my life.
In your letter you shared your desire to bring to the world the story of the origin of all things. A story written in my hand that has neither been tainted nor distorted, your hope is to free them from the conditioning they suffer, this has been my life’s work for centuries and although a part of me believes that all this will be for naught, you my sweet Michael have proven to go beyond my wildest expectations. You will not bow down to the corporations nor distort the truth and you are not afraid of offending human sensibilities. If I thought otherwise I would kill you where you stand. So beloved I will fulfill your request and entrust you that which is most dear to me.
For centuries I have watched humans and their behavior never fails to surprise me. It is so easy for them to continue to succumb to the same mindless enslavement. Knowing that their lives are so short they let all the years just fly by and never take a moment to just simply be. To simply feel the love that is in every place and every face and the spaces in between. Nor do they notice their fellow man. The waitress behind the counter for example puts on a smile for her customers yet none seem to care that deep inside her mind is breaking. Her eyes are teary and full of bags from lack of sleep. She mustered the courage to leave an abusive mate and now is paying the price. She lives in a state of constant fear and yet the system that is supposed to protect her is worthless.
In front of me sits an old woman, wrinkled, grey haired holding on to her possessions as if that is all she will ever own. She owns an old house that is in desperate need of repairs but does not have the funds to fix it. She shared this house with her husband for more than sixty years, he was a war veteran who went beyond the veil leaving her behind. She has not known the touch of a man in over fifteen years, she will probably leave this café and go feed her three Siamese cats, her only companions these days. She glances over a deliciously attractive young woman sitting adjacent from her perhaps taking in the youthfulness that she had lost long ago. The young woman in her mid-twenties, with long blonde wavy hair, light brown eyes, long legs, black skirt slightly above the knees, long heels with a cigarette at hand, chats away about her sexcapades on her cellular phone. Her dark blue cotton blouse is fitted around her chest, her nipples become aroused from the chilly breeze coming from the air conditioner. A young man, deep brown hair, bluish grey eyes, also in his twenties sits on the bench with a bunch of friends and secretly scopes out the pretty blonde on the cellular phone, imagining himself having sex with her. Poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance. Outside the suits scatter about like mice in a maze, hail for cabs in this dreadful weather and like good little slaves try not to be late to serve their masters.
See my beloved Michael, the world outside has only one purpose and that is to keep you completely oblivious to the world that lies behind the veil. They implement enough skepticism to eliminate any attempts of exploration. Here before them is one of their makers and they haven’t a clue.
But I do not wish to get carried away and bore you beloved. I have always found human behavior to be quite intriguing. We typically do not give out our names, as names hold tremendous power. So, I will simply use archetypal names for getting this story out to the masses. Some within the federation tell me that I am wasting my time with the humans and perhaps they are right. After so many centuries of watching the wars, the genocides, the famine that seems to be widespread but, so many fail to notice, or care has been enough for me to have given up and allow them to just simply slaughter each other.
But then I think of you and for your sake, I cannot give up. Humanity has the capacity to be noble and selfless in a way that is beyond understanding. Even now, I continue to believe that they show great promise if only they could see that as I have. It is my greatest hope that humanity can at last awaken from their slumber of ignorance and servitude. But perhaps like some have mentioned and continue to painstakingly remind me I am simply just a hopeless dreamer trying to reach towards a dream that will never be mine.
My story will challenge everything humanity thought they knew about the world and their place in it. Some will believe it, and the rest will discard it as mere fantasy. But then come to think of it, we did do a fantastic job in making their brains susceptible to conditioning and I sincerely apologize for that. At times I still find it quite fascinating when a mind breaks free and transcends all symbols to discover the ultimate truth as you have. But I must regress for now. When I have finished writing my story I will send for you, it has been a while since I’ve seen you and I relish the opportunity for us to speak face to face once again.
Forever yours,
Ninlil of the House of Lord Anu
