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Chapter 10 of "The Cleaners - An Adventure in Filth"

Updated: Aug 16, 2021

'Cleaning needs filth as filth needs cleaning'. The Cleaners

All the Cleaners stealthily hid themselves in the basement above the underground carpark.

At the predetermined time, the fire drill sounded. The building took about 20 minutes to evacuate. I arranged for the TXU facility manger to be ‘elsewhere’ while the floors were being checked and appropriate protocols followed.

It left time to rendezvous with the Cleaners to ensure final preparations. So far, so good.

When I arrived most of the Cleaners were sitting in a circle, quiet, obviously performing some kind of inner exercise.

“Aren’t they coming with us?” I asked Rick.

“No. They’re remaining here to protect us - psychically speaking. They’ll run interference on the M.O.G. remote viewers so we can enter undetected. Once inside, another group will shut down the generators to the facility, but auxiliary systems will still be operational. From here, we’re on our own. If we don’t find what we’re looking for quickly, we never will.”

“Do we have any blueprints or layouts?” I asked.

“No,” Mr Pasha said abruptly.

“How will we find our way?” I asked anxiously.

“It is important to sense the body, bath yourself in white light, and keep your feelings open, stretch out. Trust yourself,” said Kel calmly. “It is the only way.”

“Are we ready?” asked Mr Pasha rhetorically.

Rick lead us down to the bottom level of the underground carpark. In the far corner was what looked like a large concrete housing for pipes or conduit. Behind the housing was a latch. Rick pulled it and a door opened. Inside were stairs that spiraled down.

At the bottom of the stairs was a corridor with doors at opposite ends. There were no signs but Rick indicated that one went to the facility and the other to the generator.

Rick, Mr Pasha, Kel and myself headed to the facility, while the others went to cut the power.

We waited impatiently. It was estimated that there was a 30 second delay before the auxiliary power would turn on after the generator was shut down, and had to make sure we were inside before that happened.

My heart was pounding, I didn’t know what to expect. It could all end badly. I tried to stay with the exercise, not letting the imagination paralyze by being grounded in the body, visualizing the light and opening to the feeling I felt a few days before.

I could sense everyone else trying the same.

Power was cut. The security locks let go. We opened the door and quickly went inside. It was dark while we waited of the auxiliary to kick in. Those seconds felt like an eternity.

The power came on but only dimly lit the area. There were rooms and corridors everywhere - it was like a maze. I started to panic.

“Calm yourself. Relax into the body. Let it find our way,” said Mr Pasha.

We did, and as I began to calm, a sensation rumbled, like the sound of a stampede over the horizon. It was animating. I felt something pulling me toward a certain direction.

Kel noticed what was happening and said, “Go with it. We’ll follow.”

Without relying on any of my normal senses, I unhurriedly starting walking. Moving in an out of hallways, and passing what seemed like laboratories, we arrived at a door.

Hesitantly, I open it and we walked in to a large room. At the back was what appeared to be a hospital bed. There were wires and tubes connected to a dozen different devices. A solitary figure lay there.

We approached quietly, not sure if we were in the right place. Mr Pasha turned on a lamp next to the bed. Laying there was a child of no more than 8 or 9 years old, hairless and pale, and the gender was impossible to identify.

Mr Pasha pulled a syringe from his pocket and injected it into the child. Immediately its eyes opened. Startled from whatever was injected into it, the child sat upright and looked around.

It didn’t take long for it to regain composure. Concern on its face quickly turned to a smile.

“I am glad you came,” it said softly. “Are you OK?”

None of us knew what to say.

“They will be here soon. Quickly, take my hands.”

We did.

“Keep still. This may hurt. There is no other way.”

Suddenly, a burst of energy engulfed us. It lit up every part of me like a sun. The sensation of the body was so intense and complete, every atom was held in the embrace of my attention. Every movement was accounted for, nothing escaped me.

The clarity and depth of feeling was beyond description. Joy and sorrow, suffering and satisfaction, all reconciled as one.

At its height came visions of immense magnitude. Normal thoughts were too slow. Thinking expanded—the rational and irrational, knowledge and revelation, logic and faith, were brought together in a tapestry of beautiful richness and grandeur.

Aware of both my utter insignificance and absolute importance to the working of the cosmos, I heard the deep yearning of humanity’s soul. My body began to vibrate violently. Tears and sweat streaming down my face. Opening my eyes, I saw everyone, and they saw me.

For a moment, everything was transparent, everything revealed. In all its precious glory, life reached out and touched me. I was aware without any doubt—even down to the marrow—that my life was not separate to any other. Life was Life.

At its crescendo, a shout came from behind us.


The child let go of our hands and we turned towards the door. There, visibly distressed, were Agents Smith and Wesson.

“That should have been us,” said Agent Smith as he began to calm.

“What have you done?” yelled Agent Wesson.

The child got up out of bed and slowly walked over to the Agents with a grace and lightness I had never seen in someone so young.

Taking their hands, and with deep compassion said, “It is OK my children. Your time has not yet come. Let them leave.”

A quietness spread, and then abated.

“Will you stay with us,” begged Agent Smith.

The child remained silent for a few moments, then replied, “I must also leave. My work here is done.”

“NO,” shouted Agent Wesson. “You can’t leave. We need you.”

“But I must,” said the child humbly. “I cannot stay.”

The faces of both of the Agents suddenly morphed into a restrained anger. Blood rushing to every capillary, every nerve amped up, they focused all their attention, all their energy on the child.

“STOP. This will do you no good. Only harm can result,” commanded the child.

They both ceased whatever it was they were doing, and retracted.

Agent Smith looked at Agent Wesson, as if waiting for a sign. The room became cold, then Agent Smith stated ominously, “If you can’t stay then no one can leave.”

The child quickly turned to us and yelled, “RUN!”

The Agents scrambled to raise their guns and were about to fire. Fully aware of the impending disaster, the child let out a deafening scream—a scream so potent, so full of suffering that it radiated everyone with what seemed liked a burst of consciousness.

The Agents fell to the ground in obvious pain, while we started running for our lives. Out the door and back the way we came couldn’t come fast enough. But as I left the room, something pulled me back to the child.

I stopped and told the others to keep going.

“No,” Kel called out. “You’ll be killed.”

“Its OK. I’ll be fine. Wait for me topside,” I hollered back.

As I got to the room I approached cautiously. From the gap in the door, I could see Agent Wesson still wreathing in agony as the child’s screams rang out.

I approached a little further when I saw Agent Smith painstakingly trying to point his gun at the child.

I recklessly ran over to pounce on him and wrestle the gun from his hands, but as I did, the screaming suddenly ceased.

The calm of the moment almost halted time itself, and with eyes and arms raised high, the child smiled, “I am ready to leave now. Prepare for my next arrival.”

A gunshot ripped through the room. The child’s body fell to ground, instantly dead.

I was shocked into standstill, and the shock immediately turned to anger.

“WHY?” I shouted at Agent Smith.

He looked at me, still in pain and barely able to move or speak, “You don’t understand…they never do…the prodigal sons will return.”

He went to raise his gun but passed out. I didn’t want to wait around. I hightailed it back to safety.

They were all waiting at the bottom of the carpark. We were so happy to see each other. I couldn’t stop hugging or kissing Kel.

We left quickly, not knowing if the M.O.G. would follow, and everyone went to the pre-designated safe house. But safe for how long?

After resting for a while, I had a chance to explain what had happened. Sadness filled the house.

I was immersed in oppressive melancholy. I couldn’t help myself. I had to understand what happened. The grief was too painful.

“What the child gave us will take a long time to fathom. It will need to work in its own way,” said Mr Pasha.

“I know,” I replied. “It’s all too much. That scream. I don’t understand how it didn’t affect us like it effected the Agents?”

“For those who have had a taste of conscience, a dose of consciousness can help wash away the impurities of personality. While a degree of suffering accompanies such cleansing, their is a subtle joy that comes each time,” Rick explained.

“For those who are without relationship to conscience, a dose of consciousness is devastating. The personality, built on straw and sand, simply crumbles. With nothing left to support the unreality of their being, the experience is a horror of horrors.”

I sighed heavily, “It didn’t seem to matter anyway. We failed.”

Mr Pasha looked at me with those grandfatherly eyes, “Maybe it was not failure. Maybe, in time, we will see it differently.”


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