Ron Huber Travelogue Early Fall 1980 Butte Falls, Oregon to Fort Bragg, California to Ashland Oregon.
In this section of his diary, Huber, who dubs himself Arien, is on the manic end of a manic-depressive cycle. His thinking has been influenced by Timothy Leary's 1970s book "The Intelligence Agents" http://www.neilfreer.com/SRPAGE6.html As the log opens, Ron is travelling from the southern Oregon foothills of the Cascades to the Fort Bragg area of the Northern California coast.
Arien is midway on a journey to the center of North America's west coast. It is night and he is relaxing in a cheery warm inn a mile from the restless Pacific waves. He is using stimulants, as usual.
Over the last week he has received an extensive collection of transmissions, nearly all bearing on some aspect of psychophysiologic evolution. After a summary analysis and report to GHQ, he had settled into the remote fastness of Lorien, hoping that its pastoral solitude would enable him to reflect more deliberately on his findings.
Then the summons came, a plea for aid. Evalune, one of the sixty-four Istarii scattered across Sol-3, had suffered a decompression of Hir primary power foci.
This had taken place only a month before the American national election. The predictable havoc had resulted. Droves of progressive legislators fell from office. A former head of the secret police ascended to the 2nd highest office in the land. Repression of creative and sexual energies loomed.
The path of terrestrial history, plotted out aeons ago, by psychohistorians, had been knocked over to a parallel universe's flow.
Were Evalune unable to refocus her energy transducer, Sol-3 would experience a major discontinuity, throwing the local sentients back to the stone age.
The summons was delivered to Arien as he sat before his wood stove, mulling over the role of interconnected electrochemical oscillators in mediation of sub-nuclear sensation. Coffee bubbled as usual on the stove. He took the letter in silence from Lucis, studied it between sips from his steaming mug:
"Lorien family: Condition black singularity. Potential for devolutionary collapse from stage 12 to ten or possibly 9 is approaching critical potentiation. Trend reversible though will require immediate repeat immediate dispatch of State 16 reinforcing entity. Response requested a.s.a.p. --Sol 32"
Arien was the sole stage 16 entity within 500 kilometers maintaining an energy level capable of buttressing a collapsing power focus. He finished his coffee, packed, and left.
Now he is poring over the last month's global news, searching out the pattern of disruption emanating out in waves from Evalune. This shift into a parallel continuum is apparent. Dom-species activity has gone from scientific-aesthetic tendencies to intellectual-militaristic. War has erupted in several small nations already, with competing forces attempted to devastate each other's economy and resources, an alarming change from the traditional expansionist policies of earlier wars.
Predominant state 14 activists are under scrutiny by various counter-evolutionary agencies aiming to restrict and ultimately halt refinements in sentient growth...
Abruptly the inn closes. He has made it to the great west coast highway, though, and traffic up and down the coast is heavy even at the late hour. A half km down the highway, he spies an all-night eatery. It is a continent-wide chain restaurant and Arien suspects evolutionary agents may be there.
He enters, orders coffee and scans the local noosphere: the usual stage 12 and 13 interactions of low frequency, low amplitude entities. Hive workers, a scattering of hedonists. No agents. An alluring woman in the very next booth furiously fills page after page of a note book with writing.
Interesting. Arien narrows his scan to her immediate aura. Intense! She is totally engrossed in Hir writing. Arien pulses a respectful greeting. She notices, responds in body language with a preoccupied tip of the brow and continues writing.
Arien resumes reflection on global continuum modification. The best way to restore sol-3a to its event track will be to fuse energies with Evalune in a carefully modulated climbing gradient over the course of two planetary rotations.
One rotation's work should halt the state vector collapse into sol-3b configurations. The second rotation's work should reverse the flow back toward sol-3a parameters. With luck they will leave the planet further along in its projected evolution than it would have been, had the discontinuity never taken place.
A fine bit of art work that would be, he thinks, waving his empty coffee cup toward the hostess. GHQ might even authorize off-planet R&R. A welcome change that would be. Lately this whole Sol-3 duty assignment has taken on too many elements of the heroic quest mythos. About time to shift to a higher energy level.
He reviews recent singularities and oracular developments. "Care of the cow brings good fortune" Thus spake the Book of Changes in its characteristically terse fashion when he'd consulted it, just prior to the Summons.
After packing his gear for the journey, Arien had sensitized his frontal lobes and sought a readout of pre-emergent tendencies in his personal vector path. An image floated into awareness: a hermaphrodite, dressed in a regal gown, bearing a scepter. Around Hir floats a garland. Outside the garland four heads: lion, woman, hawk and bull, stared at the woMan, who gazed pensively outward.
He had let the image mediate into the symbol interpreting associative area. Decoded, the message said. "Cosmic consciousness. Success." Auspicious by all accounts.
Regrettably, his exposure to state 13 hedonic culture in Lorien had disposed him toward procrastination. This had reflected into his weltbild in the form of long delays between rides in the journey to Evalune. Over 2 hours spent leaving the agricultural backwater that Lorien slumbered in.
Another hour stopover in a tiny village in the midst of the coastal mountains, where he'd neuroenergized a pair of young Stage 13s into 13.6 status. That had been worth the delay. An evolutionary agent uses all opportunities to enhance CNS growth in others, regardless of the personal cost.
Now, he decides to leave. Time to pass south along the Highway. Darkness is a mantle of solitude swirling around him. Evalune! he cries inwardly, flexing stiff leg muscles, willing himself into hir event path.
The road is silent, untrammeled. In the fog-shrouded moonlight he sees great redwood trees towering in the distance over coastal marsh. A foghorn bellows, once, twice, three times.
Three figures drift like wraiths across the pavement toward him. Arien stifles his alarm reflex, seeing three heavily laden bicycles. Gypsy hedonists. Good.
They exchange mutual traveler signals, neuroenergize, talk, the cyclists are from the eastern reaches of Unistat, taking a pleasure jaunt around the continent Invited to share circuit III transmitters, Arien accompanies them to a tavern, sips beer and compares world views.
Cycling had given the gypsies a free floating, critically poised post semantic psychology. They prefer to skim the world, letting the stream of consciousness run broad and clear. Arien warns them of psychic silt. The stream might be broad but it concomitantly becomes shallow.
Ding! Closing time. Arien leaves, meets some aboriginal entities locked in warfare with local dom-species agents. The opts for solitude, hikes deep into the redwoods, sleeps.
In the morning, he flags down a ground car. A Yurok Indian intelligence agent who transmits a coded GHQ situation appraisal: "Avoid overt pre-dom/dom species conflict. Do not dissipate energy attacking symptoms of world line aberration. Proceed with all possible speed to source of discontinuity."
Nightfall washed Arien up in a post-hedonic enclave a scant 100 klicks from Evalune's citadel. At first he attempts to travel on, the summons topmost on his mind. A deer leaps out onto the pavement before him, freezes awkwardly, impaled by an approaching car's headlights. Then the fatal moment: its fight/flight reflex triggered, it bolts into the vehicle's path.
Whump! The deer lands in a tumble of broken bones as the car vanishes. Arien and the deer are alone. He looks into its glazing eyes. It seems to urge him to stay off the Road. He goes back to the hedonic village, caffeinates. Tunes in. Tells a guy at the counter about the wounded deer. "Is it still alive?" he asks. When I affirm that it was, he grabs his coat, heads for the door. Are you going for a veterinarian?" I ask. "No, if its still alive,its still edible," is his answer. Several people laugh.
Stage 13 and 14 rapture engineers. After half an hour he is bored by the low energy level, departs.
Weather is clearing. Truck stops, offers truck bed as mobile platform. Arien climbs on, heads singing through the frosty night air. Is dropped off outside Mad River Inn, 30 klicks from Evalune. More time. Night is still young. He bends world line in flux toward the black hole sucking at Evalune. Omens clear and clean.
Riders stop. They are outbound for Branscomb. Hedonic/aesthetic /intellectuals: a physicist named Sandy, Rebecca. Elite caste sensualists living high atop the greeny crags of the Pacific Coastal range.
Arien is exhausted and high on far too many cups of coffee. Midway to Branscomb, sprawled luxuriantly in the back seat of their sleek ground car, his is free associating answers to subtle queries from the Epicurean couple They take him to their house, feed him advise him on matters of significance in epistemology and world line translation. Put him to bed. He sleeps the sleep of the righteous, fitfully tossed by dreams he can't recall the following morning.
Mt Diablo watershed 0.8 km east of the Pacific Ocean.
Arien is absorbing the present, future and past meanderings of Evalune's even path. A drizzly mid afternoon amid redwood stands, perched atop jutting slopes of teeming prolific rain forest. Nearby primates are stage 12 -14 semi-hival aesthetic and technician castes, There is high drama afoot here. The Istari is Hirself leaving her domain for the far havens beyond the setting sun. The land itself she is deeding over to a group of small craftsmen, while retaining lese majeste rights to operate a power focus through two lifetimes.
He measures, weighs, balances the diverging currents of probably futures and branches out from the present rapidly through the universe.
The power focus is repairable. Arien has tended Evalune through two rotations, restoring planetary event flow back toward Sol-3A event configurations. It is not in equilibrium yet; a carefully orchestrated tantrika is due to take place tonight. With successful fusion, the planet will begin to evolve into i-2 mode.
But Evalune is tires by the enormity of her role. The burden of focusing central western energies has left her dissipated. She deserves and needs a non-directive support environment. The islands of the far flung Micronesian archipelago will provide her with the simple life-giving surroundings necessary to refill her fractured soul.
She has offered Arien the choice of accompanying Hir to the I-lands and beyond or taking on the energy focus. The Lorien option of course is always there as well. What to do?
He poises the potential futures, shifts into open alertness, awaits an omen. Some manifestation of precursor wave. Strong tendencies toward island hopping appear.
Lorien and Seahaven appearing as jumpoff and return spots in that continuum. The alternate futures derived logically from that matrix resolve into:
* 1) staying at Lorien, acting out mammalian politics with the stage 13 tribal hedonists dwelling there (as well as the unending stream of transients), and working with local academicians toward neuroecological reform of mass communication systems, and
* 2) living at Seahaven with stage 14 larval sentients which focusing upper west coast dynamisms in the Unistat noosphere.
"Care of the cow brings good fortune" I Ching's pronouncement returns of its own accord into his awareness. Very well. He will move in accord with that gentle directive. It doesn't do to ignore synchronicity. The intelligence agent must always, in that dear Boy Scout dictum's words, BE PREPARED - to act, to move, to change. He will journey upon the far reaches with Evalune, buttressing and entertaining Hir across the seas, playing the bard and courtier roles to divine shakti.
What is our intelligence agent doing? wonders GHQ. They project his real time holo in the crystal tank, observe his slouching form. Cigarette in oe hand, cafeine drink in the other, is is talking to Evalune. The officer on duty records the scene, triggers body language analyzers, disc datums paried brainwaves of both he and Evalune. The record is sent to Central Analysis for routine review. the dury officer turns to her next agent, a hermaphrodite water breather on Bootes-5 and starts recording.)
4th rotation solar calendar.
Arien takes Oriole to the village inn. It is closed, but the innkeeper's wife ushers them in for cofee. As he lights his second nicotine smoke of the day, he mulls the events of the two preceding solar cycles.
Evalune had gone to her Loremaster, Den, driven by Maximus in his mobile home. Maximus, a powerful stage 14 hedonic nomad roving the Pacific coast, had met the gent and his Lady a rotation earlier at the fortress as they were leaving a healer's clinic.
With a sweeping flourish of gallantry, he'd ushered them into the luxurious inerior of his wheeled mansion, offered them neuroenergizers and, upon hearing of their destination, insisted on taking them there. Vita, his lovely mate, was a healer Herself, and instructed Evalune in the accupressure arts.
Upon arrival at Seahaven, Evalune invited the nomads to stay the evening, for the shadows had grown tall upon the redwoods. The quartet parked o the soft grass of the valley floor and walked singing to the rustic cabin near the spring.
Afterwards, in the ruddy glow of an airtight woodstove, hey spun belief systems in rapture awareness. Arien and Evalune lightly amuse themselves with ironic comments dryly interspersed amog the cascades of Christology coming from the Nomads. Restless winds whisper along the windowpanes and through the frosty night.
6th Rotation "Now I'm sittin' here, down on the beach...but them seagulls, they're still out of reach," Neil's paean drifts through the agent's mind as he sits facing the blue Pacific waves. He awaits his next order from the Universe.
Images roil through his mind. Evalune, Oriole, Lucis all sweep by in a parade of phantsams. Scenes of cities, some glittering under the coastal sunshine, others shrouded by mist, slide past. Earnest christian ministers, bug-eyed occultists, the whole gamut of belief systematizers that the Agent had intersected since arriving on Sol-3, all come to awareness in synchrony, like a fantastic multidimensional hologram. He holds the vision for a moment, grokking its fullness, its multiplicity/unity. Then he drops it.
All part of the local mythos, Now he is leaving the mythos, the whole reference frame of western civilization. He is biped primate linked in pure static free comunication with DNA, roving across the temperate zone of the third planet of a type-G star, conscious of wind, stars, sky, sand in their timeless being...
Bump. Arien awakens to find himself sprawled face first inthe sand. He climbs shakily to his feet. The sun has rereated below the horizon, staining the ocean deep gentian violet.
He focuses his vision on the darkening waves, awaiting the emergence of some crystal belief from the depth of his being.
Nothing. He turns from the water, sees a dark form washed up on the beach. Coming closer, he sees that it is a large clump of sea lily, its roots wrapped firmly about a large chunk of smooth stone.
Unity. The organic and inorganic. Associations grow forth from the sight. Mutual dependence of the worlds of life and death. Siva-Kali intertwining in carnal embrace, giving birth to the phenomenal world endlessly. Yin and Yang ever feeling out a dynamic equilibrium. Holding fast to each other.
Holding fast. The agent sees he must hold fast to Evalune, tending her as the faithful vassal supports his liege lord, bringing order to the flow of creation steaming forth from Her essence. he will cultivate her lands here in North America, advise her on travel arrangements to the Far Havens, provide her with a balance point. Allow Her to arrive at a clear sense of direction unimpeded by day to day distractions. Let her seek the course of innocence.
When he rejoins Lucis, Evalune and Oriole at Seahaven, he feels a tension in the air. It thrums between Evalune and Lucis like a poorly tuned clavichord. Sensing the need for quiet, he speaks a brief greeting, takes Oriole out to the garden to pick vegetables. There is the sound of shouting from the cabin. When he returns with Oriole riding in the wheelbarrow, Lucis and Evalune are weeping softly in each other's arms. A jug of red wine is half out of Lucis' haversack, part empty. Clearly the source of the tempest. Evalune echews the fruit of the vine, fiding third circuit neuroenergizers hopelessly to low energy for Her tastes. This could bode changes in her lifeline regarding Lucis, who enjoys alcohols' heady rush.
Restraint! ripples the oracle. Arien decides to focus on cultivating the greeny forests and meadows of Seahaven. The Lucis/Evalune relationship will resolve itself under its own momentum. The Agent need only limit himself to the propagation of the natural order. Weeds in amongst the gardens must be clipped out. The spring, fountain of life in Seahaven, will bear constant guard against pollution. There are mushrooms to harvest. Fresh greens to pick. Les fruites de Mer, both animal and vegetable, await in their bounty.
Very well. Portrait of the Agent as a Jung man, tilling and reaping.
1st Rotation, solarcycle Sun-day. Arising in the predawn drizzle, Arien is on his way to the Fort by first light. He is driven there by a pair of passing larvals. At the Fort, he conects with the local ecology scene, locates library, bookshops, music store. By noon he is ready to return. The new land tenants will be arriving soon. Arien is going to give them a tour of the property. He leaves.
The prospective tenants do not appear. Arrien attacks thistles encroaching on the garden, rooting them out ruthlessly, ignoring their vegetative shrieks of agony. Remembers the parable of the grainfield sowed with weeds. Burn, chaff! he thinks. Burn with unquenchable fire.
Heady stuff. Abruptly it is nightfall. On the way to the cabin with a bowl of salad greens, he espies Hop walking up the lane. Former mate of Evalune. Sire of Oriole. He brings his second child and mate. At Oriole's request everyone celebrates Christmmas around an apple tree. A fine sunset alights the valley walls. Evening of renewed friendships.
2nd Rotation Off again to the Fort, this time aboard the Mendocino stage. Dropped off outside the Mallorn Lorekeep, he trots in, arranges to meet with psy-techs in order to beging resaerch into intraneural comunication and neuroecology.
Then to the music store through the thin rain. The Agent's fingers caress the strings of a fine guitar, weaving a collage of melodies, hints of melancholy and introspection, then a brief stacatto glissade to a joyful major chord ascension.
Too soon, the moment ends. He returns the instrument to the vendor, leaves for the record shop. A new Yes album, cunningly packaged by Atlantic Recording Co to prevent paupers from reading the liner notes.
Thwarted, the Agent leaves. Off to the General's for caffeine. In passing, he laments his lack of a guitar to the company and is amazed by a woman's generous offer of a free(!) guitar.
It is battered but serviceable. After strumming her a few songs, he offers obeisances, leaves.
...Three hours later, he gives up hitchhiking in despair. A dark storm cloud looms overhead, threatening deluge. He crosses the highway, catches a ride on the first passing truck.
Back in the Fort, he phones Valian, asks for and receives lodging for the night. They discuss the Istarii and her worldpath. No consensus. Even the oracles are aloof, unwilling to even hint toward the probable futures.
3rd Rotation. Time to return to Seahaven. He stops briefly at the General's, picks up provisions and heads home. It is dark, raining, when Arien arrives. He unpacks, makes up a bed, sleeps. A dream unfolds: St John's raving vision on the island of Patmos of Jehovah's terrible majesty:
"Arise my child of planet earth
I show you now my holy berth
The center where my throne resides
Where I and mine all time abide.
"My lord! of One! most precious jewel
I see a rainbow, glistening, full
of radiance of perfect green
around above your glittering form
while seated near are twenty four
of Your best servants, bedecked with gold
garbed in white: the saints of old.
"Before you shines a sea of glass
While lightning roars, while thunders crash!
Four beings pray, all night, all day
To you, dear lord, they fervently say:
"Holy, holy holy
Lord God of hosts
Heaven and earth are filled
With Your glory!"
These four: lion, calf, man and eagle
Ablaze with eyes, with many wings
Sing praise to You, while all the elders
Kneel and cast their crowns to thee." *
* penned by Ron Huber, late 1970's
The agent awakens with a start, afterimages from the celestial vision still in his eyes. Rain plummets from the skies in windblown sheets. The redwoods are groaning ponderously in a climbing northwester wind racketing out of the Arctic.
By noon, he is with Oriole on the storm tossed beach, seeking a gift from the sea. Oriole finds an urchin big as a softball, brightly stained blue.
Storm threatens. They return to the cabin. He cooks a meal for all. Tension fills the room, a polarization of energies. Arien is troubled. Is he somehow to blame? He senses a united front of righteous indignation directed towards him. Is it real or paranoia? No way to tell at this point. He will suppress anxiety, he decides. Follow the course of innocence.
5th rotation More imbalances sweep the citadel. At breakfast Lucis and Evalune are reserved, slightly irritiable. Feeling discretion to be the better part of valor, Arien announces that he will go to the Fort and secure food allottments from the authorities. He departs just as Lucis, somehow indignant over Arien' finances, begins a tirade of penurious acrimony.
Refreshing to be back on the road. A ground car chugs past, grinds to a halt. Arien hops aboard, is driven by the bearded aesthete within to the fort. The ride along the rocky coastline is peaceful and calming. He applies, successfully for the food coupons. The hive representatives are prompt and polite, eager to serve. Afterwards, the agent stops briefly at a caffeination station. Concerned that Lucis' charges may be correct, he itemizes his expenses over the last 14 rotations. He has not been expecially profligate, he finds, beyond daily coffee and tobacco, reasonable enough indulgences for an Intelligence Agent. Very well, Beyond criticism on value symbol use.
Proceeding on, he stops at the local academy, obtains the contact coordinates for the local neuroscientist. Nobody home.
Back on the road before sunset. He is taken home by the innkeeper and her son. They neuroenergize, talk of opening routes for foot travellers to make their way across the continent. The inkeeper offers to purchase fish and other produce from Arien C.O.D. Great expectations abound.
Dropped off at Seahaven's gate, Arien steels himself for the expected form of financial recriminations. Seeking balance, he hums a tune, then breaks into song as he nears the cabin. Ahh, Sweet melody transforms his fears into calm. He plucks some willow and alder branches for transplanting around the cabin, screening out the neighbor's new house. Evalune greets him in song. She suggests planting locations for the new saplings. Vibes seem good. Lucis is invisible. Where is he?
Arien enters the cabin. Lucis is hunched inside weeding the greenhouse. He is silent. Hostile? As it turns out, Evalune has just returned from the Fort only 5 minutes earlier. She and Lucis had been to see an attorney with Loretta concerning the land. Apparently an agreement in principle on transfer of land to Loretta. Will Arien be staying on there through the winter? The mystery, unresolved by Her cryptic explanation, tantalizes Arien. Concern over whether or not he will stay here gives way to delicious uncertainty. He relishes the suspense. A spectator.
After dinner, Evalune calls a council. Arien can see by her taut features that resolution of disharmony is imminent. They neuroenergize, center themselves in clarity. She speaks.
"My life has altered greatly since your arrivals. Somehow rather than making things easier, your presence has created tension." Are we being tossed out the front door? Arien wonders. He leans forward in rapt attention.
"I appreciate your being here. I had presumed that only a short stay would be necessary. Now 14 rotations later, the land is unsold. My soul aches. You Arien, wish to care for this land. Very well." Hooray! Thinks Arien. Home at last, he thanks her, eyes shining.
Unexpectedly, Lucis cuts in. Pupils dilated with coffee and fatigue, he is stiff with strain. "I came here expecting a brief stint as moving man. Now weeks later, I find myself spending money on food and supplies that I had earmarked for Lorien."
Arien can hardly believe his ears. Lucis is undercutting his position, practically calling Evalune a drain on his energy. He looks at Evalune, who is widemouthed with surprise and dismay. He winks at her. Relax. She settles back, smiles mischievously. Positivity. The only attitude worth having.
Lucis finishes his spiel, nervously rolls a smoke. Arien, under the beckoning gxze of Evalune, asks a very pregnant question, directed at first to Hir, then shifted over to Lucis: What I truly seek to know is..." here his eyes shift to Lucis, ".. are you two preparing to manifest conjoint world line fusion? He pauses, pulse beating strongly in the veins of his forehead, expectant, watching the present unfold into the future.
Lucis drums hs fingers on the dutch door of the cabin, watches his smoke drift out into the night sky. "I canot say." he begins, pausing to inhale fresh nicotine.
3rd Rotation Solar. Many Partings
Evalune returns to find Arien nursing a sore leg. She is flanked by a trio of women, one white and two indians. Somehow they have provoked her into a spitting rage. Roaring about 30 cents worth of food that Arien had eaten in his hunger, she storms about, railing like Lear at Arien's alleged profligacy.
Finally he takes the bait, does as she had asked him to do earlier - spits and roars back at Evalune, gives limited free rein to his emotions. Naturally Evalune responds in kind and her squeaky voice rattles about the mountainside.
Finally, in a great climax of insulted rage (for Arien had pointed out to her the inaccuracy of her statements), she angrily orders him to leave her land. "Ignorant witch!" he responds, storming off to an old shed where he thinks furiously.
The Oracle! Rise above the overhanging trees and see, really SEE the whole forest of life. As the Yurok, in his stiff and severe fashion had pointed out, one mustn't dissipate energy in responding to effects rather than causes.
So at the first opportunity, he picks the lock of randomness and peeks through the oracular eye. The most ancient and venerable I-Ching. It is
K'un. The receptive. Follower of the middle way and thus master of extremes. Spiritual midwife (mid-husband?)
Arien lets the image:
- -
- -
- -
- -
- -
- -
float deep into preconscious realms, allowing its archetypal aspect to re-imprint his bio-computer. A buoyant calm sweeps over him.
Renewed, he sets about wrapping up business at Seahaven. Naught to take back but what he brought. Swiftly packed, he caches his gear and travels to the fort.
On the way Arien meets up with Ob - a woodworker by trade, singer by avocation, neuroenergizer by choice. He lives on 1.5 hectares of land a stone's throw from the enignatic ocean. He invites Arien to stop by anytime, as he'll be at the sylvan spot "forever".
Fine. A friendly departure to the strains of Release. At the fort, he hurriedly pens a brace of letters, one to agent 14, Branscomb 95417 -Sol-3, one to the Lorienites in their fastness near Mt Mazama.
Heidi appears, wishes him well with the guitar, exits. En route to Valian's, he meets him on the street, neuroenergizes further, informs him of his travel plans. He exchanges coordinates with him, meets Hop at the General's.
An unexpected transmission beams in at the Loreholdings. There, the Ancient Mystical Order Rosea Crucis points out to Arien that "a balancing of horizontal polarities between hemispheres is only a partial step toward CNS/DNA fusion. The vertical polarity between the outer and inter brains (neocortex, limbic system and R-complex is as significant as the right-left balance. Limbic gives rise to the "noetic expression". Allegorically, Anubis, guardian of the threshold between conscious and subconscious worlds."
Of course.