He was not sure how long he had existed thus. It wasn't that he was unaware of time as a parameter, but more that the passage of time was of little import. Simply another phenomenon to be observed.
And there were so many things to observe. White hot stars in a final flash of glory exploding at the centre of a galaxy, or the surface acoustic wave created by an atom skimming the surface of a solid. Each event was worthy of observation. His mind or mindfulness could be focused dispassionately on any occurrence, such that he appreciated all aspects of the 'energy' which it produced: sights, sounds, textures, smells, emotions .... there were even some sensations which could not be described in human terms because they were outside the sphere of comprehension.
As he turned his attention away from a hot flow anomaly event at the surface of a planet, he focused anew on the pneuma. An initiate in the infancy of their personal journey might be astounded that an enlightened being could still find the simple act of breathing to remain at the core of their existence - the central constant upon which observation was built.
His consciousness was now drawn towards a familiar object of curiosity. Like so many times before, the 'eyes' of his being homed in on a planet third in sequence from the star 'Sol'. A relatively rare wanderer, it possessed the perfect combination of elements, temperature range and gravitational field strength to support carbon-based life forms.
Once he had inhabited such an organic shell himself. On a planet not dissimilar to this. But he only remembered this state for an instant. The thought was noticed, covered in his awareness and allowed to diminish into the pneuma again.
But what was this? A new sensation. Like a brushing of gossamer-light tendrils against the face of his consciousness. It seemed to be pulling him through time, space and other dimensions. The experience was not unpleasant. In fact, it was positively pleasurable. So much so that he held on to the feeling rather than let it subside.
This was not how it was meant to be however. A seed of doubt sprung up from the wellspring of his selflessness. Doubt? This was an unfamiliar emotion. He tried to return to the pneuma but something was now resisting the power of his gargantuan will. Such a thing was not possible. He was the enlightened one. Noone and nothing could conceivably oppose him - and yet here it was.
A spark of curious excitement entered his being at the prospect of a force or mind equivalent or even superseding his own. Now the urgency was pulling him down to the planet the inhabitants called 'earth'. As the essence of his being coalesced, he made out a vast mountain range, tossed up by tectonic forces aeons ago, but now somehow sullied. Where once should have been ice-filled glaciers he saw only dirty, rock-filled valleys with putrid trickles of water flowing from their mouths. This was an affront to him. How had such a thing happened?
He heard sounds, smelled the faint but pungent odour of polluted air and realised that he was appreciating these sensations with physical organs. He looked down at himself and saw for the first time in millennia his flesh made real again. The reduction of his elemental energy confined him claustrophobically. He felt that, if he tried, he could reverse this change. But his inquisitiveness prevented him.
He found himself standing naked, on a ledge below a rough-hewn stone staircase. The frost-filled wind bit at his skin. He felt discomfort and pain. He looked up and saw the staircase winding up to a dark cave. It was then that he heard a faint chiming which served to attract him onward. The bell-like sound had a rhythm and cadence. This was music, being performed by a master instrumentalist and he knew he had to find it's source.
Entering the cave he stepped down into a chamber glowing with green phosphorescence. On a craggy dais up above was seated an ancient in the lotus position, eyes closed.
The ancient spoke with his mind, "Welcome to the star's abode, watcher. I greet you with honour as an equal."
The words fell like tumbler-block mechanisms in his mind and conveyed additional meaning with their subtle inflections.
"You are wondering how it is you have been summoned here. I can sense this just as I have sensed your presence oft times before, as your will circled this planet."
He heard the ancient's words and understood that he was conversing with someone who knew his nature and respected his origins. He had not vocalised thoughts since the time of his enlightenment and when the words came they sounded strange yet hauntingly familiar.
"I am honoured to be in your presence too, ancient. But I already yearn to be one with the heavens again. This organic frame is so ..... limiting."
The ancient's mind-language flickered with mirth. "You have roamed the galaxies and the dark spaces in between, drawing nourishment from your sojourn. Yet did you not realise that this would come to an end? That the helix of existence would bring you round again?" The music he heard changed it's melody as the ancient spoke. It dawned on the visitor that this was also a part of the non-verbal communication.
"What age is this in earth-time?" he asked. "When I last visited this planet, humankind lived alongside its neanderthal cousins and foraged for food with simple tools. I foresaw a great ascension for this species."
"The path of Homo sapiens has indeed escalated the heights of civilisation," answered the ancient. "But alas, he has become victim of his own greed and selfishness. The very planet is defiled by what he calls 'progress.' The year is 2091 by their calendar but this race is unlikely to see the dawn of a new millennium."
"Then we must watch, as we have always done. Dynasties come and go, from the Great Cataclysm to the end of the Reign of the Leviathans. Yet my heart is heavy concerning their demise. They showed such promise."
The ancient's mind-energy shifted as if opening a door. "You misunderstand, Watcher. There are times, albeit rare, when the balance of the universe requires intervention. Humankind's passing, and the resultant plunging of the world into ecological disaster will signal an immense dislocation in the fabric of the continuity."
Incredulity spread across the watcher's face. "Such interventions by the enlightened in the past have yielded their own problems. Intervention can so easily become interference - and our kind have been tempted.
"The risks are great, but the risk of inaction even greater. However, even now I sense that you understand this, and why you have been given the mantle of flesh and blood."
He looked down again at his mortal form and experienced afresh his diminution. "Why have I been chosen ancient one? And how is it that you are the messenger of this revelation?"
"It is not that you have been chosen, watcher. But more that your time has come. Like a seed germinating when the conditions are right. As for me, I too am simply doing as is my nature. It will not be long before I become one with the heavens again and my consciousness will be unburdened."
As his mind took on the truth of the ancient's words, he turned his face towards the lightened entrance. "What must I do to turn the tide of the humans' destruction?"
At last the ancient opened his eyes. They were azure pools. "This much I know. You will be drawn away from this abode and will travel as all men travel. On your way, sustenance, shelter and clothes will be provided for you - as mortality has now clothed you once more. You will not need to seek these out. Others have sensed your coming and will provide. Finally you will perform a seemingly small act, but it's repercussions will spread like ripples across this world. My advice is not to resist the flow of consciousness - even if it's suggestion seems at odds with your perceived morals."
He looked once more at the ancient, who now was becoming incorporeal. A faint smile played over his wrinkled face as he raised his arms heavenward and rose like a wisp of smoke. All was silent, save for the winds quarrelling at the cave mouth.
Many weeks later, a sharp-faced man walked into a tall glass building. He wore a charcoal-grey suit. In his hand was a tan briefcase.
A receptionist at the main desk greeted him. "Good morning Mr Hapsgood. Mr Waylon is waiting for you once you are through security."
The man walked confidently past two armed guards and into a lift. He pressed the button for the tenth floor. When the indicator reached seven, it stopped. In walked the same sharp-faced man - apparently. Same colour suit. Tan briefcase in hand. Hapsgood had just enough time to take a sudden intake of breath, eyes wide as the newcomer merged with him - body and mind.
The watcher thought fleetingly, "This would be called possession by some. An abhorrence by others. But it is what it needs to be."
At the top he stepped into a narrow corridor. Beyond a thick, glass partition he could see two guards and a third man holding a sheaf of papers. Above them was a shield with an eagle spreading it's wings. He placed his hand in the fingerprint identifier and looked through the retinal-scan aperture next to the glass door. A green display read 'Security details affirmed. Hapsgood permitted entry.' The heavy door slid back almost soundlessly.
"Mr Hapsgood." The man with the papers greeted him formally. "The board are waiting for you inside to hear your decision."
The watcher took his place at the horse-shoe table and looked around him at the twenty seated figures. A faint soulful murmuring from the 'Hapsgood' within was quelled immediately by his will.
He turned to the array of expectant business executives and said:
"Sell."
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