Far Pangaea 83 : Busy Body

Ever wonder what your Ancestors were like? Were they good people? We all probably consider that they are just as good as we try to be. Were they bad people? It's a safe bet that there are always a few skeletons in the closet. Attic. Basement. Backyard. None of us truly know. Some of us wish we did. For James Ian Pryce he's been given the opportunity. Body surfing his soul and mind through each incarnation of his family tree since the dawn of time. That covers a lot of family when your life expectancy is only 33 years. Some granted a longer shelf life due to magic or get this...leap year. So far James had met plenty of good folk in his travels. Climbing the celestial roots of what Cameron Scott referred to as the Infant Tree. Gone baby gone. On to the next. From the Ice Age to Dark Age. If he had time he would keep a journal. He's in a bit of a hurry though. His friends depend on him . Fortunately he does have a photographic memory. A lot to process though. Hit and miss recollections after a million plus lives he's inhabited one at a time. Some only lasting mere minutes before moving on. Others longer. Weighing their importance as he endures. Their own memories fading swiftly at his departure. To understate the fact that he has been busy would be pure outrage. His body of work a constant effort.

33 A.D, Golgotha.

In Matthew 12:38, some of the scribes and Pharisees asked Jesus for a sign to prove He was the Messiah. But Jesus told them that the only sign He would give was that of the prophet Jonah: "For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth"

In this case the roots have come home. The Great Fish being Jesus of Nazareth. Poor James Ian Pryce on his celestial journey forward in time had entered the body of his earlier incarnation while hanging from the cross. Nails driven through his limbs. A crown of thorns upon his head. The pain excruciating. James could only respect his predecessor. Being referred to as a Messiah was a big deal. A lot of weight to carry upon his shoulders. Having carried his own cross to Galilee before being hung up to dry. While he himself felt only a fraction of the pain he could read the thoughts and emotions of those suffering the full extent of their agony. This day he could only observe through weakened eyes. Communicate with a confused mind. Offer his compassion while inside their emotions. This jump was a big one. The son of God himself. As the Bible professes. A man none the less. A miracle. James Ian was proud to be related.

"I've heard how this ends. I'm truly sorry for your loss. Just know that our lineage will continue on after. I'm on my way home now."

"As am I. My Father calls." Jesus strains even in his thoughts.

"Right. Is Dad really a God? Religion is so confusing."

"Yes. A deity above any false Gods. The creator of all that is. I am a reminder that humans were made in his image. All that ever will be fully known. As his child even you must respect that."

"Oh I do. I don't know him personally. I would like too. I mean he's not my biological Dad like yours. If so his name must be Jack. At least I believe my Dad's name is Jack. Which brings up just how could he be your Dad? For that matter how can I be you if you're the son of God? Does that make me the son of God too? What about Joseph? No offense I'm just really not grasping the concept. How do you cope? You're barely alive right now. I can feel you fading."

"Breath as I breath. We are each and every one the children of God. You are no different than I."

"Yeah but how can you walk on water? Heal the sick? The blind." James rambles within the head of Christ, "I especially liked that water into wine stunt. Oh and raising the dead? Dude you've done it all. Including raising yourself from the grave. So cool."

"All I have done has been my Father's will. How I have done these things is not for me to know. I follow my Father's wishes."

"Ok so have you physically seen your Dad?"

"Within the water I see my reflection. He is there before me."

"So wait. You're saying you're God?"

"We are all God. He is within each and every one."

"Right. Man designed in his image. Yeah, I don't get that. I mean don't get me wrong I feel privileged to have been you. If I am God in some way then that's awesome but I don't feel like any God."

"You are within me are you not?"

"True. And, I can read minds. Can you read minds?"

"I can. Yet, to intrude on another without permission is a sin."

"I never thought of that. I guess I'm in big trouble. Although generally when I read minds it's to help others. But, yeah I'll still repent and offer up a couple million Hail Mary's."

"Hail Mary? I do not understand."

"Yeesh. Religion in the future isn't so easily explained. I think they took you on as a spokesperson in a power trip campaign. Blame the Vatican. They hold all the secrets and truths. I've hacked...guess I better add that sin to my list...stolen secrets even though I don't use them to do bad things. Anyway the Vatican archives conceal things that would totally bring down civilization. Things about you even. Which obviously concerns me. That's why I need to know what's true and what's not. I hope you don't mind but I want to hang...bad choice of words...stay here with you until the end. Maybe catch a glimpse of things to come after you're gone. If you don't mind."

"Do I have a say? You have entered me as I will enter Heaven. A welcomed possession. I know who you are James Ian. The Pryce you pay for being of one with myself and those who came before. They who will come after. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Praise be to God. Your arrival I fear ends very soon."

"I know I can't stay too long but I'm going to resist the next jump as long as I can. I'm here for you Jesus."

"As I will forever be there for you my Son. My Brother. My soul shared."

"It's all relative. I...hey what's that guy down below you doing?" Jesus goes uncaring of any new threats. New pain. It is all a state of mind. Transition. A spear pierces the rib cage of Jesus. James Ian feels it enter. Senses the inner turmoil. If a soul could cry it would.

"Ohhhh, man. That was the Spear of Destiny wasn't it? But, in the book of John it said the spear came after you had died." Blood flows from the wound. Below a loud gruff bellow rattles the Roman who had jabbed Christ. A unique turn of events as a larger Roman soldier pummels the man for his arrogance. A man known to James Ian, "Holy...ummm that's Antonaeus Gaicazar. Jesus? I know this man. He is lost in time like I am."

Jesus wept. Dying tears streak his cheek and mix with his blood. As the large Roman Centurion looks up at Jesus he is tortured in his own soul. Plagued by beliefs. A man himself lost as to what is right from wrong.

"Find freedom Antonaeus." Jesus whispers.

The Roman looks with awe, "You know my name?"

"I do. As I curse this man who lays at your boot to wander the world until the second coming, so do I offer you purpose. Protect the world from this man. From the Devil's trident." A single tear droplets downward into the eye of Gaicazar. Blinded for a moment until he catches his breath. Sword drawn at what he spies around him. Demons in the form of man. Hissing and skulking away to avoid detection.

"I see all. Thank you Messiah. I know not what my future holds but I shall defend your dream. Your Father's dream."

"Whoa! This is badass. I mean...sorry I'll wash my mouth out with soap once I reach my old body in 2027. You just created another miracle. Even in dying you wish the world a better place." James detects a glow lowering around the body of Jesus and awaits the reason. Suspecting God himself to show up in some fashion. Instead it is something that not even Antonaeus can see. A pair of gorgeous Angels with magnificent white wings, a blond female of Caucasian appearance and the second an African American beauty in golden armor. Light all around them.

"Beautiful. So beautiful. Angels do exist." James peers in awe. The women smile at James within as if sensing his internal struggles. He couldn't stop looking at them. Listening to their thoughts as best as he could.

"Your Father awaits young God."

"You mean Jesus right?" James mentally enters the blonds mind. With a puzzled brow the Angel looks toward her partner.

"You can see us?" She ponders.

"I think we both can. Hey there I'm James Ian. I'm Jesus in this time period. I'm from the year 2027. Lost in time. I know you must be here to help Jesus along. He's almost ready to go. I can barely hear him."

"Do you always talk so much?" Jesus murmurs. The Angels smirk and admire the sudden twist of expectations.

"Only when I get nervous. Hot chicks tend to do that too me. Don't tell Sophia if you...of course you won't meet her. Silly me. Sorry."

The blond peers down at Gaicazar on his knees praying. His sword dangling from his grasp. Hearing Jesus himself begs her to reward this man for his mission. The blond drifts down to stand over Gaicazar admiring his sturdiness even amid tears. All around them soldiers watching, disturbed by their Commander's unexpected intervention. The Roman who had speared Christ sneaking away in humiliation. The Angel remains invisible to all eyes but that of James detection. None remotely knew she was even there nor ever had been. She draws her own sword of light and taps the blade in Gaicazar's possession. It suddenly flares up as if the sun. The Romans moving away fearfully as Antonaeus lifts his blade toward the sky. Empowered by Warrior Angels this man would strive to fight for Heaven. Pontius Pilate however would know not. With a fanning of her sword the Angel wipes away the images the soldiers had seen. Gaicazar's own sword returning to a normal appearance. Only Antonaeus could see the difference. With her sword now sheathed the blond Angel removes her gauntlet and reaches out to lift the chin of Antonaeus. He sees her not but feels her touch. Looking up at the sky his pupil dilates and changes shape to that of a cross.

"Grace of God be with you always." She bids him farewell and allows her wings to carry her upwards to once again face Jesus and James within. She peered deeply to see Jesus as if he were awaiting her. Was it he? Or, was it James that she found curious?

"That was incredible." James admires.

The black woman inches closer, "Descendent? Of God you are. We serve you when needed. Your Father calls us home. We must go."

"Wait! What about Jesus?"

"In time. His days are not yet done."

"Not yet done? I don't think he's breathing any more. I should move on up the tree but I just can't abandon him. Not yet."

"When your time is up you shall depart. Just as he."

"Right. The resurrection first. I get it. I'm staying until then."

"As you wish. God awaits. Be well James Ian. Until we meet again."

"Tell Charlie I said hi. Bosley too."

With a queer look between them the Angels rise into the clouds and vanish. James suddenly feeling very alone. Those were the first Angels he had ever seen. He was sad yet stoked to see the story finished. His thoughts excited by the prospect that there might be more to himself than even he knew. Maybe as an immaculate conception within Ruby Goddard he too was a Messiah and had no real idea. It was a lot to take in for certain. His spirit peers down even as the eyes of Jesus were closed. He could actually see right through the eyelids. Below him Gaicazar had been called away. Pontius Pilate would have words with him for striking his fellow soldier. He would not be punished. Yet, he would be sent away in a weeks time. Further than anyone might have predicted.

A group of women in dark robes prayed in seclusion. Far enough away that the soldiers did not interrupt them. Eying their activity James surmises that one of them must be Mary Magdalene. Possibly the Mother Mary herself. Kept a good distance from the field of crosses. Others crucified alongside Jesus. It was a horrible yet breathtaking sight. So much cruelty. So much suffering. So much faith. All at once. As he absorbs the chaos a lone man steps forward and peers up at Jesus. A man with a hood. His face cloaked by a scarf. Only his eyes could be seen. A dark foreboding gaze.

"Oh boy. This must be Satan." James contemplates.

"Who are you that inhabits my Father's vessel?"

"You can see me?"

"I see all. I am the true son of God. I have heard stories. Are you the reflection?"

"Guess so. We sure don't look alike."

"Of course not. You are naïve aren't you?"

"Probably. Are you really Satan? Lucifer? Beelzebub? Lord of lies?"

"Man and their need for name calling. They have no true knowledge of where they come from. Where they will eventually go."

"Heaven or Hell right?"

"Heaven is...was my home. Heaven is a planet. Hell is as you choose to live within it. Do you really believe in Man's gibberish? Their bible? What is written is a farce. Humanity has its own agenda. And, I am called the Lord of Lies?"

"Then, don't lie to me. Tell me the truth. All of it. Were you a fallen Angel? Cast out of Heaven by God?"

"Were we not all cast out into the cold?"

"I don't know."

"Name me as you like. I am what I am. An Angel left to wander this lonely burden of Hell." "Are you here to torture Jesus?"

"He has been tortured enough. His death is moments away. A freedom allowed by my Maker. Something I am denied. You do know that the soldier that lanced the side of Jesus of Nazareth like myself has been cursed to walk forever? Brothers in that at least."

"Why were you cast out?"

"Too many rules. Am I evil as some say? Perhaps. Perhaps not. One must look at the Man who enforces rules that even he has broken. To think otherwise would be ignorance. A God? A scientist? A sorcerer? A mason? A carpenter? A chosen Messiah by an aimless world? You who were he much later should know that being the hero is meaningless."

"Jesus gave a world hope. Something to believe in. I'm grateful to have been part of his celestial line."

"You are but a reflection of a Creator with a sense of humor. Trust me even I bounced upon his knee. Until his work claimed him. Then, his children were reflections of his shadow. Nothing more. Relocated to a corner unseen. Even our Mother was lost to his endeavors."

"Wait! Mother? I thought God created all. Does that mean he created his wife?"

"Of course not. Mother was as he was. A Heavenian. She believed in what he was doing. Until she herself gave up hope on who he had become. A Man...yes a Man obsessed. A Man who just wanted to be left alone. He got his wish. Like any child I rebelled against my parents. I paid the price. Like my brothers and sisters. All cast out. All drifting in obscurity. Some good some bad. I am both. Regardless what the scriptures say. All have a right to their opinion. Your Jesus took it upon himself as a reflection of Father to be the best he could be. The talents he possessed gave a reason for people to change. Some did. Some shall. Some will deny him still. Some will even use the term God to gain influence."

"So what is my purpose as his reflection? I have powers. Just not on the level of Jesus. Or, others that had extended lifespans. Magic maintains a longer lineage. So I've gathered in my journey through past lives. Moses. Merlin I hear. Good people unheard of. I guess I'm a lost soul too. Yikes! Bad choice of words. No I'm not selling my soul to you."

"Are we all not lost souls? Why would I buy your soul? Such a thing is not containable. Again, Man's desire to use fear to maintain control. There will never be a world without sin. It is bred within us. Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth. Do you think even a Creator lives without each of those? Lies. Killing. Covet another Man's wife...naivety. Paper and stone only. Scrolls of those seeking a happy ending. Only the finality of death is a happy ending to a life that begins anew. Soul swapping. From one shell to another like slugs seeking refuge."

"Okay, so you're immortal. Your soul never embodies another?"

"As all Heavenians we were bred immortal. Father insisted. Whether we desired it or not."

"Every planet in every star system has the equivalent of God's reflection. I've even heard rumor of females seeing God's reflection."

"Not my Father's reflection. My Mother's."

"Whoa! I should have seen that coming. Boggles the mind. Where are your Brothers and Sisters then?"

"Heaven. Travelers across the stars. Some here on this pitiful world with me. Hiding. Using their own influences to control people. Rulers. Generals. Peace and War. False Gods. Whatever it is they choose to entertain themselves with. Hobbies at best."

"Can you leave Earth?"

"I was cast here. My prison. I make the best of it. People are quite amusing."

"So you are evil."

"Do I toy with humanity? Wouldn't you if you lived the same boring life for epochs? I dabble in the minds of some. The lives of others."

"I guess I can't blame you under those circumstances. Is that maybe why as God's reflection I only live 33 years? To avoid messing with humanity over the long game?"

"Ripples in a pond. From what I understand. Within the tears of my Father."

"Mercurio."

"Is that what it is called? I must ask...is it My Father's tears or his urine? The decision is yours. I comprehend it as I see it."

"Yeesh! Gross dude."

Satan for a better name turns his cheek to witness oncoming soldiers and the admittance of family to tend to their lost loved ones. He eases aside unseen. Their concept of his visual as if a blind spot. James could see that they each thought they saw someone but changed their minds. Mind control? Satan again looks up to the suspended body of Jesus.

"Farewell reflection. We shall meet again under different circumstances. In another of your lives. Let My Father's vessel find peace. His time here is done. The possession is over."

"Possession? Do you mean Me?"

"Hardly."

"Wait! What are you saying?" James frets trapped within Jesus. Satan vanishes into the gathering populace. Sadly, all that James had known of Satan or whatever his true name was found a bit of sympathy. If he was lying in any fashion he sure seemed nice enough. Who truly knows? Only a Father. Maybe a Mother.

Below Jesus, soldiers began to lower the cross and remove the nails driven. Allowing men and women moments to grieve. Hearing languages he understood very well in his souls frequency to adapt. Listening intently as they coddled his corpse James realized he was face to face with both the Virgin Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene themselves. Their weeping lost to prayers from Luke, Mark, and Matthew. His Apostles. As Jesus lay there James peered toward the sky. Angels were returning. Led by the blond were over twenty new beauties. God must like hot chicks he thought. Hovering above, the women stand ready to escort their God home. Not this day. As if a storm brewing the sky grew dark. Purple lightning floods the clouds. As if a gentle breeze the Angels appeared distraught. Captured in a wave of purple light the Angels were gone.

"Holy---ummm! They must have just been sent back in time like we were. Crazy timing. I need to figure out why that happens one of these days."

As quickly as the storm travelled through it was gone. All returned to normal. The folks around him barely unsettled. He did overhear Mary Magdalene murmur that his child would know greatness. Wow! Jesus did have a child.

A linen cloth covers the fragile body of Jesus. James presuming it to be the Shroud of Turin. The burial cloth of Christ. The notion that it was his souls time traveling energy that might have burnt the image of Jesus into the material. Only a guess. It really didn't matter.

A procession takes his body away led by a man James overhears being called Joseph. Of Arimathea he presumed. For two days James lingers and listens. This had been the longest he had occupied any of his Ancestors. He just had to know more. There was no going forward without more knowledge concerning the Resurrection. With no Angels left to bring Jesus home he wondered what might happen. Sealed just like the New Testament wrote within a garden tomb, a large rock blocking the entrance. Lingering there overnight he attempts to read the minds of those around the tomb. Grave robbers planning. A faint thought of another woman whose voice seemed familiar yet not. A darkness foreboding. A scream that ends quickly. Not from the woman but of a Grave robber. Then, another. Silence.