Hokey Pokey Maya

[hokeypokeymaya]

\\ function:thurisaz<eidolon: Rasputin>//

“It is the realization of Hobbes’ Leviathan!” The Mad Monk forces Crowley out of his mind, but the damage is done. He can not dominate the Beast now.

“Russia will certainly become a monster.” Such impertinence.

“And I am Behemoth, mounted on her back! Together we will achieve Divine Ecstasy!”

“Rasputin, I regret to say, I find your solution a fair bit worse than Jack’s.”

It is war. There is no other choice. The war for civilization did not end with the Nazis. The outcome of the Atlanteans’ Moon Child attempt can only yield one result. The Secret Chiefs will not allow mere mortals to wrest divine power from them. They will not allow a living symbol to be fashioned by humans. They will recede, removing their gifts from the world. Humanity will become animals. It was up to Rasputin to preserve civilization.

The Mad Monk collapsed back into his physical form, cushioned by his fury.

[hokeypokeymaya]

\\ function:fehu<eidolon: pm aleister crowley> //

“What are you talking about, Englishman? Is your mind so addled with drugs that you wish to supplant the Secret Chiefs? To remake society in your own image? There is no society without the Secret Chiefs, without their gifts of Order and Light! We must appease them by succumbing to their Ultimate Will!”

It was too much. The personification of the First Trump took Rasputin’s sudden bolt of force and turned it back at him. Rasputin felt the hole blown in his mind, his ideas leaking out into the numen of astral space, and Crowley leaking in.

“You aren’t one to talk about addled minds, Russian. Look at what you are doing. I knew you could never convert a death-yantra to food production. You are turning your own people’s minds into machines!” Crowley whispers aloud. Rasputin reels. He gathers his sense of self into a protective barrier.

\\ function:thurisaz<eidolon: Rasputin>//

[hokeypokeymaya]

\\ function:ansuz<eidolon: pm aleister crowley>//

“Aleister, he doesn’t know what he is doing! We must court the favors of our masters and win them back to our side! Their sacrificial translation from the Noetic Symbol-Lands into our physical reality is the ultimate gift. They have raised us up above all creatures and created us in their image! We are nothing without them.”

\\ function:fehu<eidolon: pm aleister crowley> //

Rasputin pours the full force of his will into dominating the English Prime minister. If he can erode Crowley’s mind enough, he can plant the suggestion that Crowley stop his disciple’s ritual. The threat to Rasputin’s plans would be eliminated, and Rasputin would have a back door into his erstwhile ally’s mind.

Again, there is resistance. Crowley has a personal relationship with this Trump. It wraps tendrils of inspiration around the Prime Minister. One of the major qualities of the First Trump is manipulation, so it knew exactly how to thwart Rasputin’s attempts.

“Jack understands the ritual. I agree, this will anger the Secret Chiefs, but look how much has already damaged that alliance! Look at the death-yantra that consumed the Nazi Wizards. Look at how it reaches out to still consume the world.”

Thwarting is not the end of the Trump’s plans. It is doing its own manipulating. Rasputin can feel it pull at his mind, at his secrets. It is opening a window into his dark soul. Rasputin panics, redoubles his efforts.

\\ function:fehu<eidolon: pm aleister crowley> //

[hokeypokeymaya]

\\ function:ansuz<eidolon: pm aleister crowley>//

“Prime Minister Crowley, I think we have a problem. We agreed not to use a Moon-Child against the Nazis. Now your disciple performs the Moon-Child Rite, to use against Japanese Oni and Kami? He cannot win this way. Attempting to dominate the Secret Chiefs is madness. They are the pillars of civilization.”

Despite Crowley’s protective integration with the memeplex of the First Trump, Rasputin forces a telepathic connection. There is resistance. The Trump does not like what Rasputin has become. However, the newfound power of the stolen Nazi yantra, the thousands of minds that are now fueling his own ego, allow Rasputin to punch through. Crowley’s attention is drawn to him like a lodestone.

“Premier Rasputin. I am monitoring Frater Parsons as he engages in his work. I too am concerned that summoning the Scarlet Woman might not be the best way to win this war, but Jack is, erm, determined.”

The mewling coward will not take responsibility for his power. For all that this man acts as though the world revolves around him, he cannot bring his constituent parts to heel. His vision is small.

Rasputin cannot risk his own plans. The yantras stolen from the Nazis allowed him contact with the Secret Chiefs, the living ideas that make up the concept of civilization. He draws power from them in a new way, one that has never been seen before. It is the very newness that makes the deal so tenuous. He cannot risk the displeasure of the Secret Chiefs at this stage of his metamorphosis.

[hokeypokeymaya]

\\ temporal interference detected… //

\\ temporal interference details <<\<type: ubik> <source: assiah band:1947:newatlantis:mojave:f.belarion:moonchildoperation>/>>//

\\initiate:noosphere scan<<memetype <eidolon: pm aleister crowley>/>>//

\\noosphere scan complete//

\\ <<memetype <eidolon: pm aleister crowley>/>> location: <<yetzirah band <memeplex: 1st Trump>/>>//

Rasputin, Premier of Russia, locates the Prime Minister of England, Aleister Crowley. The yantras stolen from Nazi necromancers and integrated into his physical and noetic being work perfectly. Information flows into Rasputin’s awareness in a simple form, ones and zeros. It is smooth. It is quick. It is cold.

The idiot Crowley is astraly peeping through the archetype of the First Trump, the Magician. He is spying on the future of his own disciple, the New Atlantean leader in California. A year from now this Atlantean, this Parsons, plans to engage in an act that transgresses an unspoken agreement of the Allied Powers. To Rasputin, this is too much like the Nazi betrayal, Operation Barbarossa, which pushed Russia to side with the Allies in the first place. Rasputin does not like betrayal. He will address this. Now.

\\function:ansuz <eidolon: pm aleister crowley>//

[hokeypokeymaya]

A disturbance in the numinous medium stirs the memetic spray towards practicality. It is Jack, his wand work moving at a frenzied pace, stirring the vile wake of the Russian’s displacement into effects of the Babalon Work. Crowley psychically screams “Jack!” His disciple cannot hear him above the roaring sound of his Thelemic Will propelling his evocation into noetic possibility.

“I see something. We have made contact,” say Kelly and Hubbard. Crowley hears them in unison.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Crowley can hear Kelly’s voice coming from his egg shell, reporting what he sees. “It is the Lady Madimi. She is with Uriel, the Archangel. He speaks.” However, Crowley’s attention is on Jack’s fragment of shell.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Crowley screams. He screams because of the Light. The Light is a sphere that expands from Frater Belarion’s wand and becomes the world. The land of New Atlantis shakes. Reality screams, and the Light pours in. New Atlantis, so sensitive to its inhabitants, is reformed. The towering buttes shatter, leaving a flat hard-pack, a hungry carbuncle of sprawling city. LAM reaches out of the higher symbol-worlds of the sixth dimension and enters our concrete reality through stories in pulp magazines, cradled by a hunchbacked dwarf. He infects the imagination of the disenfranchised. LAM’s passage tears at the fifth-dimension, and possible realities bleed into each other.

[hokeypokeymaya]

“It is complete!” Jack screams as the wand work climaxes. He is shaking. The Scarlet Woman convulses and disappears into a white light that erupts out of the tip of Jack’s wand. She is swimming, drowning in the light. It closes over her head and she exists, but not as she meant to. The Light continues to stream out of Jack’s wand. Ron screams, drunk with his new fortune, his destiny. Jack screams, though he doesn’t know why. Crowley screams.

[hokeypokeymaya]

“Uriel commands us. Dee, we must share your wife.” Dee is disgraced. Kelly becomes a well-to-do alchemist. Dee’s wife is repulsed by her time with Kelly. She and Dee return to England, and they live their lives on the periphery of the court.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Lord LAM is speaking but for Hubbard’s ears alone. He is the recipient of a deal that wraps like chains around the world. Kelly feels the echoes. LAM is promising Hubbard possession of the Scarlet Woman. In return, the Lord LAM is to be let into the global imagination. His impact will reverberate back to the dawn of civilization, remaking the Secret Chiefs, so that they are all LAM. LAM will be inevitable.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Amalantrah gestures. Suddenly the memory of this child-like creature slides into mind. Two gigantic black eyes swallow its misshapen child face. The youthful visage is dwarfed by an expansive forehead. The being is twisted by its endless eyes.  It is the Lord LAM. This creature was born of Sirius, the Seven-Pointed Silver Star, the same gateway/divinity symbol that the Secret Chiefs used to enter our reality and become Civilization. LAM’s cold eyes glint with the will sapping machine-reality that clings to Rasputin. LAM is the most inhuman outcome of that civilization. His goal is to reduce individual humans to cells in the thought-bodies of the Secret Chiefs.  All of Crowley’s emotion (fear, love of Country and the Thelemic way of life) is sucked into these eyes. They see Aleister Crowley. He is consumed in the darkness of LAM’s perception. The future is in his eyes.

[hokeypokeymaya]

The Lady Babalon is speaking through Hubbard, and Jack’s entire being is concentrated in listening to Ron as he relays the information. Jack continues to work his wand, the kundalini energy rising in a carnelian glow. Babalon dismounts and enters the glow. Her presence grows warm, pleasing. However, that small child follows, a nugget of cold.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Hubbard looks off to the horizon. Crowley can see what he sees: silhouetted on the sinking moon, a woman with black hair, riding naked on the back of a panther. The beast has many heads. It is Babalon come. Beside the Great Lady walks a small figure. It could be the child Horus, bringing an era of peace. As the two near, it becomes clear that it isn’t.

[hokeypokeymaya]

“I knew it was impossible to convert a death-yantra to food production. You are turning your own people’s minds into machines!” Crowley whispers aloud.

“It is the realization of Hobbes’ Leviathan!”

“Russia will certainly become a monster.”

“And I am Behemoth, mounted on her back! Together we will achieve Divine Ecstasy!”

“Rasputin, I regret to say, I find your solution a fair bit worse than Jack’s.”

The Russian disappears into a cloud of fury.

[hokeypokeymaya]

Like a thousand stars rising from the land, the people of Russia shed their egos. The points of light rise and converge into a single, Central Light. As a revolution, the phenomenon roils across the continent, finding the minds of the east ripe for it. These minds have always been very close to the Secret Chiefs. They are prepared for collectivity. They engage in the Dance of the Tractor. As their emotions leave them, they feel cold as metal gears, they delight in the taste of grease, and the energy-granting stench of burning petrol. The Shadow that had been shaped in Germany, a shadow called Thule, called the Vril, had spread east. It now reshaped itself around Rasputin.

Rasputin’s intent was to be that Central Light. Through strange new talismans, through punch cards and vacuum tubes, through crystals and light, the Premier was encoding all the minds of his country and running them in parallel on his own ever inflating ego. He was building himself into the mind of Russia. He was creating a demomorph.

[hokeypokeymaya]

“Aleister, he doesn’t know what he is doing! We must court the favors of our masters and win them back to our side! Their sacrificial translation from the Noetic Symbol-Lands into our physical reality is the ultimate gift. They have raised us up above all creatures and created us in their image! We are nothing without them,” Rasputin's mind roils around Crowley’s. Caught in an undertow, Crowley is drawn in deeper.

“Jack understands the ritual. I agree, this will anger the Secret Chiefs, but look how much has already damaged that alliance! Look at the death-yantra that consumed the Nazi Wizards. Look at how it reaches out to still consume the world.” Crowley still hears the echoes: talam-malat… talam-malat…

“What are you talking about, Englishman? Is your mind so addled with drugs that you wish to supplant the Secret Chiefs? To remake society in your own image? There is no society without the Secret Chiefs, without their gifts of Order and Light! We must appease them by succumbing to their Ultimate Will!”

The undertow of the Mad Monk’s mind sucks Crowley deep into Rasputin’s intentions. A vision of a world succumbing to the Russian’s idea of Ultimate Will spreads out around Crowley.

“You aren’t one to talk about addled minds, Russian. Look at what you are doing.”