Parallel Reactualization Program activated.
Universal Destabilization at 54%.
Parralllllel 882: Syncro Earth
“Thirty-three,” Salvador began, clicking a piece of chalk on the blackboard. “It is a sacred number. A magical number. It represents Karma. It is the key to the third eye. It is the number of miracles the Cristo performed in the Bible and how old he was when he was crucified. It is the number eleven given thrice and if you remember your studies, eleven is the symbol of change, evolution and spiritual transformation. DNA unfurled, you see?”
The class blinked their blurry, unfocused eyes. It was too early for numerology, let alone sacred numerology and the first year students could hardly stay awake. Salvador knew this. That’s why he’d planned the second part of the lesson.
“I’m sure some of you are wondering what the point of learning about sacred symbolism is for a sync. Well, our mind is our greatest tool and symbolism works on it directly, without conscious thought. If you can grasp the symbolic, you can achieve wonders. To demonstrate the power of symbolism, I am going to test you. All of you. Follow me outside, children.”
The class groaned and moaned as they shuffled out of their chairs and outside into the crisp morning air. The sun had risen, but was obscured by clouds. Julio had to rub his arms to keep warm. Once the class had gathered around him in the courtyard, Salvador continued.
“Now then. Who can tell me the symbolism behind the snake?” Salvador asked. No one raised their hand. Julio wondered why he was expecting someone to answer, then remembered that Amanda was gone and no one had replaced her as the class know-it-all yet. “Anyone? No? How unfortunate.”
“It has to do with the kundalini, doesn’t it?” Julio asked.
“Mr. Valdez. Thank you for volunteering. Please step forward,” Salvador said.
“Huh?” Julio asked.
“While the answer you gave was correct, may I remind you this is still a class I am teaching. As such, there are rules that are to be followed. Rules such as raising your hand and waiting to be called on before speaking.”
Julio grumbled but didn’t reply. He stepped forward. Zach raised his hand.
“Professor Salvador? Sir?”
“Thank you for demonstrating proper classroom etiquette, Mr. Li. Go ahead.”
“What is a… um…. a koonda…”
“Kundalini,” Salvador began. “It is energy. It is potential. In an ordinary person, this energy is stuck at the root chakra at the base of the spine. It remains coiled there until work is done to uncoil it, to raise it, to remove the obstacles of the etheric body until the kundalini energy slithers up the chakras and reaches the third eye. In the East, this is a well known phenomenon. In the West, it is hidden and obscured by centuries of occult practice. But look close and you’ll find the signs. Take the Aegyptians, for example. They put the snake on the pharaoh’s crown right on top of the third eye. Take the crown of thorns with the Cristo or the pre-Columbian indigenes and the third eye they placed in their art. And so on.”
“So what are we doing out here in the cold?” Julio asked.
“Another word without raising your hand and it’s detention for you, Mr. Valdez,” Salvador said with a pointed finger. Julio glared at him but chose not to mouth off. Salvador’s piercing eyes stayed his snark this time. “Now then, let us begin.”
Salvador closed his eyes and raised his hands. Sparks of red energy left his fingers. Soon, there were a lot of sparks and they coalesced in the air between Julio and himself. They began to take shape, first vague, then very clear. A massive red snake lay coiled on the ground. Julio could tell it was fake, a construct, but his instinct to run almost overwhelmed him.
“Oh god, I hate snakes.”
“Professor Salvador’s the best!”
Everyone had an opinion, it seemed.
“Now then, Mr. Valdez. I want you to visualize the kundalini within you as a snake.”
“Okay,” Julio said, not taking his eyes off the snake for a second.
“When you’re ready, uncoil your kundalini energy and raise it up through your chakras. As you do, this snake will do the same. But be quick. The snake gets more pissed the longer it’s here.”
“Oh shit. Um, okay. Hoo. Concentrate,” Julio said to himself.
“Less talking, more focusing, Mr. Valdez.”
Julio reached deep within himself, feeling out his energy. His kundalini energy was elusive. It hid very deep within him. He reached out, but hesitated.
“Come on, Julio. You can do it,” Zach whispered.
“Having trouble, Mr. Valdez? Even a low level sync should be able to find their kundalini, at the very least.”
Julio bit his lip and reached harder. The snake began to hiss.
“Shit,” Julio hissed through his teeth. “Come on. Come on!”
There. Deep deep deep within him, coiled in the tallest patch of grass in his etheric body was the kundalini. He reached for it, but hesitated again.
“Do not hesitate, Mr. Valdez. Snakes can sense fear. They will withdraw from a fearful hand. Or worse… attack!”
Salvador snapped his fingers and the snake lunged, missing Julio’s foot by inches.
“Jesuz Cristo! What the hell was that?” Julio cried.
“Call it… inspiration. Keep going,” Salvador said.
Julio made a face like he was going to explode. Finally, he said fuck it and dove for the kundalini. The energy hit him like a lightning bolt. It wriggled in his etheric grasp. Finally, it settled and began to unwrap from around his root chakra.
“Huh. Very good,” Salvador said.
“You sound surprised, Professor,” Julio said, smugly.
“Continue with the exercise, Mr. Valdez,” Salvador said. The red snake began to rise, matching Julio’s kundalini energy.
The chakras received the kundalini one by one. The sacral, the solar plexus, then it hit the heart chakra and became lodged. Julio grunted, but nothing happened.
“Something wrong, Mr. Valdez?” Salvador asked.
“Nope. Just… hmm…. hold on. Grr…. Mmph! Come on!”
The red snake flicked its tongue, tasting the air. It was half raised off the ground in an uncomfortable in-between state. It began to tense, getting ready to strike.
“Don’t delay, Julio. Guide the kundalini past your heart chakra.”
“I’m… trying… Grfnplglee!”
Oh, what the hell. I don’t want to write about this shit anymore. This kiddy, shonen bullshit. Fighting and superpowers and vast darknesses or whatever. Seriously, who fucking cares! Why am I doing this? I want to create art. Art! I want high drama! Slice of life family drama! A grounded police procedural. A coming of age comedy. A historical thriller. Something. Something! Anything but this fucking hero worship mystery box FUCK! FUUUUCK!
“What the hell?” Professor Rivera said as the computer spat out a new word string. “Oh. This isn’t good.”
“What is it?” Professor Vasquez asked looking up from her station.
“The Supernal Truth Actualization Reactor is acting up again. It’s gotten… depressive.”
“S.T.A.R. does that all the time. It’s a sensitive machine,” Professor Vasquez said, continuing her work.
“I’ll check the readouts just in case,” Rivera mumbled, scrounging through kilometers of printouts. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh shit.”
“Destabilization is at 54%.”
“No way,” Vasquez stumbled over her words.
“54%, Vasquez! It’s ramping up!” Rivera cried.
“What do we do, professor?” Vasquez asked.
“What I hoped we’d never have to. We must activate the Oblivion Generator.”