The Very Near Future

From beyond the sunset a small craft had exited the moon and stationed itself off the coast of California. Its occupants, a team of Celestrials, were interested in what was unfolding upon the shore a ways distant from them. It seemed there to being a conflagration of sorts, the self-immolation of one Oliver Cash. Cash’s soul was of paramount importance, and so was immediately seized once the God-given lifeforce had left it’s body. The force, invisible to most, though quite apparent to any with an expanded conscience, was then beamed up to the hovering craft, ensconced within an orb, then flashed off towards the Yucatan and the awaiting Collective.

Braxton, attendant to Cash’s seaside estate, then takes away the charred remains of his former keeper, interning them unceremoniously right there center to the expansive property. Broadcast globally to all of his followers, the event had occurred live in the presence of Oliver’s family, especially horrifying the one person who’d been most influential as to his successes—and now subsequently his demise.

Zyphiris is considered momentarily by the Celestrials. If in fact she too should be salvaged from this tragedy. Yet it was decided that her usefulness had come to an end and so was left behind, as were the others. Zyphiris had been the only grieving soul, the only individual amongst all of living humanity that had known of Oliver’s true importance. She had born the weight of his soul for the many years she had known him, had knowingly deceiving and utilizing him for the sake of evil. Ultimately, however, it would all be for the betterment of mankind . . .

* * *

This tragedy had been vividly displayed upon two immense screens within the General Assembly Hall of the United Nations. All was being administered to by a tall stately gentleman with piercing blue eyes and robust features. He sported a short-cropped beard, streaked with gray, and was dressed in a fine silver suit, which matched his hair and highlighted his strikingly mystical demeanor. Finally, around back of this mysterious one’s stately stature, flowed a cape of similar elegance as to his suit, the entirety of it all composed of some unearthly material.

His name was Stardom, and he had been overseeing the impromptu conference only a short while already; it having not been scheduled by anyone in Earth’s government, yet taking place just the same. Stardom was not of this planet. Yes, he was human; though very “extraterrestrial” were his capabilities. Standing behind a podium, the towering screens flanking him, the cosmic crusader was renowned globally by every dignitary and military head, though his significance had forever been kept secret from the public—until now that is. And so to complete this seemingly supernatural setting, an assortment of highly advanced humanoids called Celestrials, were aligned before him. Their features, however, were obscured by complete darkness.

The building was a buzz with activity. Major media outlets, situated in elevated press boxes, ringed the massive Assembly Hall, while hundreds of world dignitaries sat behind their assigned tables, facing the raised stage of mysterious figures, backdropped by Stardom himself. This unprecedented event had come at a late hour, via a mystifying message from the cosmic emissary, Stardom, who had also arranged for it to be simulcast around the globe, oddly pre-empting the memorial programming already slotted for Oliver Cash’s passing.

Cash had been the poster boy for the “New World Order”. He was a mega-influencer. For the past several years, his every move was live-streamed, documented, and analyzed to the fullest. The world’s infatuation with the man was beyond imagination. Society lived their own lives around what this once great author in fact did.

Everyone had already tuned-in once they had heard of his demise, and were now anticipating a long drawn out tribute service; no doubt a documentary that had been prepared and stored away weeks, perhaps months earlier. The contents would highlight Cash’s struggles before fame, his writings, his meteoric rise to success from notoriety; then it would delicately segue into the struggles many arch influencers often dealt with, concluding with his steady decline—all the way down to his real-time demise in just the past several hours.

Indeed, Cash had so captivated the world that a cosmic liaison felt it imperative to introduce himself upon the homage of the man, on this, what would come to be known as “the eve of better times to come”. Stardom felt it perfectly logical to seize a global audience on such a somber occasion, in that it would in turn commensurate his own fundamentals, ones that had been dissolved during Cash’s reign, though now would again begin with his immolation. For in these, society’s latest days, nothing could have been more gripping, more news-worthy than the life and death of Oliver Cash—that is until Stardom’s appearance and the disclosure to the world of a most honorable objective.