The Evidence #1: Scientists find "Jesus is Lord" in prehistoric rock

In breaking news today, paleontologists unearthed the most ground-breaking find in the history
of the field - and perhaps in the history of mankind.

The digsite in question, located in Colombia, has already had a streak of incredible finds: Two
months ago they discovered Titanoboa - the largest fossil of a snake on record.

But now, what they discovered in Paleocene stone will dwarf their former find into nothingness.
Carlos Jaramillo's team has unearthed the impressions of the words "Jesus el Senor", which
means "Jesus is Lord" in Spanish.

Team leader David Bloch could hardly contain his excitement at the press conference. "We
found the 'U' first. We thought it was just a strangely well-shaped impression. But then we found
an 'S' next to it. We carefully dug out to each side and kept finding letters."

As if that weren't impressive enough, the dig site is continuing to unearth text. "We're still not
sure how much of this there is. Nobody could have gotten into this rock before us and put these
words there - well, nobody human, anyway. This stuff has been buried here since long before
humanity."

Many religious leaders have praised the finding, while skeptics are challenging the claims and
demanding access to the site. But even some skeptics have admitted to being impressed. Richard
Dawkins, when confronted with the find, had this to say.

"I'd bet my reptuation that this is yet another hoax to get the masses under the thumb of religion.
Still, if there were a God, this is the sort of thing we'd ask for as proof, so they should open the
site to other analysts while they are uncovering the message so we can all see the evidence."

That proof may be on the way. Apparently, part of the message states that a tsunami will strike
the south coast of Africa on May 11, 2010.

Pat Robertson reacted to the prophecy by saying "This is a clear message from God, and this
prophecy will be his final proof that his message is real, and that we must follow Jesus and
repent of our sins. Nobody can predict a tsunami to an exact date, or leave messages in rock,
except our Lord and savior. On May 12 of next year, the whole world will finally know the truth,
and nobody will have an excuse anymore. Everyone will become a Christian on that day."
From HERE http://forums.carm.org/v/showthread.php?t=165410
Evidence two

The Evidence #2: Jesus is watching

Three days ago, Jeremy Frasier was working from home. He had just hung up on a conference
call when he saw a strange man walk into his study.

"I stood up instantly. I thought some homeless guy had just barged into my house. He was
wearing dirty shreds of clothing, and had wild, unkempt hair. I asked him what he wanted, but he
didn't do or say anything. He just kept looking at me.

"I figured something was wrong with him since he wouldn't talk to me. I kept an eye on him
while I dialed the police, but the phone rang for like five minutes and nobody answered. I
couldn't take it any more - I tried to reach out and take him by the hand to try to get him to sit
down or something. When my hand passed through his, I just about had a heart attack. He wasn't
real. I was crazy, imagining him there. I waved my whole arm through him just to be sure. Then
I ran out of the house.

"He followed me. I got in the car, and this guy floated through the door and sat in the seat next to
me, never taking his eyes off me. I was having trouble breathing. I had to get help. I drove out to
Pressly Ridge clinic to check myself in. I kept trying to watch the guy while I was driving, and I
nearly ran over a girl who ran into the street. That's when he reacted for the first time - he
frowned and shook his head. Then he just kept on watching me.

"When I got there, I couldn't find parking, but I didn't care by then. I just stopped in an alley and
ran around to the front of the building. But I never made it. There was a line of about a hundred
people standing there waiting to get in. Men in business suits, mothers with young children, all
of them were staring nervously into thin air.

"An orderly came out and called for our attention. She asked for anyone who was seeing an
intangible man to raise their hands. Except for two people, everyone's arms went up. One of the
men who didn't raise his hand asked what 'intangible' meant. When the orderly explained, those
last two guys put up their hands too."

And so it went, all over the world, three days ago. Believers of the Christian faith
simultaneously began seeing a man standing around watching them. In much of the Americas,
South America, and portions of Africa, major disruptions and several accidents occurred as
people reacted to seeing the man, or tried to deal with the situation as their friends and family
had seemingly gone insane.

As we follow this breaking story, we have reason to report that these people are not simply
imagining what they are seeing. Descriptions of the man are consistent across all the people we
have interviewed - several independent paintings or sketches of the man display remarkable
consistency, even across international boundaries. But what is perhaps more remarkable is that
the description of the man's behavior is consistent from person to person.

"I had to go to work the next day" says Alexia H. "It felt weird, and I hadn't gotten any sleep,
because that ghost was just standing there in the room staring at me the whole time. Who can
sleep with that? So I was kind of out of it. And I'm walking down the street looking at him, just
walking beside me. And then he starts frowning and shaking his head. I'm just walking down the
street! So I ignore him and keep going, and he doesn't do anything for awhile. But then he does it
again, and again, and I just get fed up. I turn to the ghost and yell "What? What did I do? I didn't
do anything! I'm just walking!"

"Then he looked away from me. So I figured that maybe I'd finally gotten through to him, maybe
scared him or something. Then I realized that he was looking down at a homeless guy I had just
passed - he was like the fourth guy I'd walked by. I hadn't seen him. I'd been too focused on
looking at this ghost that was following me around. I had some spare change, so I gave it to the
homeless guy. Then then ghost smiled and nodded at me."

Some people report having a delightful experience. Mary B. sent this to us: "I work in a
children's hospital. The nice man just keeps following me around, smiling at almost everything I
do. It feels great!"

Others are having trouble adjusting, even when the strange apparition appears to approve. Mark
M. had this to say:

"I got married two days before he showed up. My new wife and I are on our honeymoon out here
in the Catskills. She can see him too. I haven't been able to... you know... KNOW my wife for
the past two nights. Every time we want to, he's there, smiling and nodding at us. It's just creepy,
you know? There are times when we want to be alone, but he's always watching us. I mean, I
always sort of believed Jesus was watching us, but it feels different to SEE him right there, never
moving his eyes from you. If that's him. I don't know who it is."

The identity of the man is the subject of heated debate.

Reknowned Evangelical preacher and faith healer Benny Hinn had this to say:

"Obviously these ghosts are an influx of demons, come to terrorize good believers. Some people
have called him Jesus, but I know this is a false Jesus. How do I know? Because if Jesus had
really appeared to believers, I would obviously be able to see him. I can't see anyone. Why do
you think that is? Obviously, this cannot be Jesus."

Former atheist Christopher Hitchens thinks differently:

"I really do think it could be Jesus. One of my friends, James, came to see me the day after the
man appeared to him. I was carrying on about what a massive hoax this all must be, when he
simply challenged me to try accepting Jesus into my life. I laughed of course, but just for the hell
of it, I said "I accept Jesus into my life. See? Nothing happ.."

"And then I shut up. As soon as I said it, I could see the man too. He was really there, and all I
had done was make a simple statement. I've spent the past day testing him, and figuring out what
makes him smile and frown. I've got a list right here..."

Imams and islamic nations are universally denouncing the event as either a mass delusion sent by
Allah, or a lie spread through the western world by the Jews.

Even believers are divided on the identity of the figure.

Kathy P.: "I'm certain it's Jesus. He frowns at me when I sin and smiles at me when I do good.
What could be better? Just knowing he's there and watching how he reacts has helped me be a
much more godly person."

Terry S.: "I know what Jesus looks like. I've seen pictures. Brown hair, goatee, clean, shining
white robes. This guy doesn't even look related to Jesus. He looks like a muslim hobo. And why
the hell does he keep frowning at me?"

Whoever he is, whatever he wants, and how long he will stay is anyone's guess. We do know
this, however: Something unprecedented, and perhaps wonderful, is happening everywhere, and
we must take it as it comes.

I've been glancing over at him while writing this article, to see if he likes it or not. He hasn't
reacted one way or the other.

Yes, I see him too.

From HEREhttp://forums.carm.org/v/showthread.php?t=165577

Evidence 3:
The Evidence #3: Labels

Excerpts from Nurse Susan Felding's personnel file:

Case Report:
Patient: Mrs. Ellen Reece
June 19-20, 2009:

At the beginning of my 10 PM shift, Dr. Bozeman informed me that his patient, Mrs. Reece, had
gone into labor two hours previously, at approx. 8 PM.

At 2:03 AM it was apparent that Mrs. Reece was experiencing complications. After several hours
of labor Mrs. Reece remained undialated. At Dr. Bozeman's instructions, we prepared the OR for
a Cesarean section.

At 2:42 AM Dr. Bozeman began the C-Section with myself and Nurse Penn assisting. The
procedure was conducted without complications until 3:07 AM, when Dr. Bozeman had just
extracted the baby and the umbilical cord was severed. At that time, a bright light emanated from
Mrs. Reece's forehead. Dr. Bozeman was so surprised at the sudden intensity of the light that he
dropped the baby.

I felt a jolt through all my limbs as I saw the child slip through his fingers. My whole body
lurched forward, arms reaching out to catch the infant. The other nurse in the room screamed.
My fingers slipped around the infant's face and torso, just before my face hit the floor, breaking
my nose. I couldn't have been more relieved - I had arrested the baby's fall, and he would be fine
except for a few bruises. It is fortunate that Mrs. Reece was under general anasthesia and did not
witness the incident.

Dr. Bozeman immediately called for assistance, as I was hurt and his hands were shaking too
badly to close up the C-section. Nurse Penn took the baby to the maternity ward. At 2:45 AM Dr.
Kelderan and Nurse Hodgkins arrived to assist. After assistance arrived I checked myself into the
ER to treat my injury.

At approximately 8 AM I checked in with Mrs. Reece. She asked about the status of her child
and I informer her that her baby was fine, but she was not allowed to see him. The hospital had
locked down the maternity ward and quarantined all areas until we could solve the mystery of the
sudden appearance of the word 'Elect' on hundred of patient's heads, not to mention several
doctors and other staff.

It is now 2:32 PM and the hospital, based on news reports that the sudden appearance of 'Elect'
on people's foreheads a worldwide phenomenon, is lifting the quarantine. I am going home after
finishing this report.

Incident Report:
Security Breach
December 6, 2011

At 9:44 AM, Malcolm Finley escaped from the psych ward on the 10th floor. He obtained a
scalpel and took the elevator to the 4th floor and held a cancer patient, Mr. Riles, hostage. He
demanded to speak with a fellow reprobate. Although I am born again, I have no writing, so I
volunteered to speak with him.

Malcolm allowed me into the patient's room. Mr. Riles was clearly terrified, though I couldn't
muster that much sympathy. He was elect, tatooed clear as day across his forehead. I am
ashamed to admit that on some level I sympathized with whatever Malcolm was doing - there is
an undercurrent of resentment among those who think they're not chosen, and I feel it every day
when I look at those people lucky enough to be selected, and at the way so many of them flaunt
their status.

Malcolm was in tears as he held the knife to Mr. Riles' throat. "I can't do it." he sobbed. "People
like him should just leave the world to the rest of us, you know? They've got everything waiting
for them just beyond the pale. Meanwhile, they're perfectly happy living here and taking up
space, eating food, taking medicines that the rest of us could be using to live longer... because
we've got to find a way. If we don't find a way to live forever, then we're doomed. The elect keep
telling us that we deserve it, but it's easy to say when they know they don't face what we do. And
now they've had proof for two years. And everything will get worse, because they don't care
about the world. They feel like they can take advantage of their privelege now. As though us
being doomed to eternity weren't enough."

Mr. Riles found the courage to speak up. "Son, it will be all right. God loves you, and he wants
you to be saved. You can still be saved. All you have to do is believe he loves you..."

Malcolm exploded in a rage. "Of course I f****** believe! Everyone knows he exists now, but
the mighty bastard just decided not to choose everyone! Everyone who isn't branded 'Elect' is
totally screwed, and there's no way you can get that brand. You, nurse - you're every bit as
doomed as I am."

I had to try to make him see that things weren't so bad. "That's not true. The words are just words
- I'm a believer, I'm saved, and I don't have any words on my head. So it's not too late. You
shouldn't think you're completely doomed just because you don't have them."

He swung the knife around towards me. "Even if you're right..." his hand shook. His knuckles
had gone white from clutching the scalpel. "My wife died today. Car accident. No words on her
head. Even after the words appeared, she kept on believing that they were sent by shamans, or
wiccans or something false." Malcolm advanced towards me. "So where is she now?"

I didn't answer. I backed away, out of the room.

"You b****! Tell me where she is! Say it!"

Malcolm lost it then. He shouted that he would send me to meet her, and lunged out of the room
towards me. The guards shot him six times.

June 6, 2014
Letter of Resignation

Sarah, I apologize for not doing this in person. As part of my protest against the hospital's
elect/reprobate segregation policies, I hereby resign my post.

That is not the only reason I'm leaving. Malcolm Riley's words have haunted me for years. I
thought that he must be wrong about the words, since I believed I was saved, yet I had none. But
I kept looking, even though he was dead, because I wanted to prove him wrong. I looked for
anyone clearly saved who died without the words, or anyone clearly unsaved who died with
them.

I have not been able to find a single case where they would be wrong. While I have never lost
my belief in God, my research has cost me my faith that he loves or chose me. And I have come
to accept that, as a result, my own lack of words continues the pattern. I was always doomed, but
I didn't know it until a few months ago.

But even then, that would not be enough to drive me away from my work here. I help so many
people that I thought it would be enough to keep me going, even knowing my own fate. Sadly,
this is not the case. I cannot continue in my duties here.

Why? Because of the mothers.

Six years ago, a new mother would ask if their child was a boy or a girl. They would ask if they
were okay. They would ask for suggestions for names.

But now, every new mother asks the same question first.

"Is my baby saved? Is he chosen?"

And I can no longer bear what comes when the answer is "no".
From HERE http://forums.carm.org/v/showthread.php?t=167753
Evidence 4

The evidence #4: The Log Book

 
June 8, 1957:

I think it best that I keep a diary of what is happening. I assume that is why this book was given
to me.

Four days ago, Betty went missing. I returned to my house after a hard days work, and she wasn't
there. Our car was missing so I figured she was shopping. My neighbor, Sally, came to my door
and told me she was in the hospital after a car accident.

I prayed every step of the way there. I pleaded and bargained with God, saying I'd do anything to
save her. I ran three miles and it wasn't fast enough. My wife was as lost as my breath when I
arrived.

I had no tears left when I returned home that night. There were strangers in my house, homeless
people in rags, a businessman, and a young child of about eight. I was too numb to care what
they took or what they did to me. They told me to come with them. I didn't want to face my
empty home anyway. I went with them.

We travelled to a field, about a mile off the highway. I gathered the courage to ask what all this
was about.

The oldest turned to me. His beard is a mottled grey, and hangs down to his chest. His voice was
a rasp, but his words came resolute with conviction. Unfortunately, I couldn't make out a word
he said - his language was garbled beyond recongition.

He dumped the contents of a sack at my feet. A miner's helmet, a shovel, this book, a pen, and a
bucket.

The old man looked surprised, as did the oldest woman in the group. She pointed at the book and
the pen. "Nobody get those before. You special. You use them." She picked up her own shovel.
"Now, dig."

I have been digging non-stop since then. I have not slept - I am exhausted, and so I am taking
this time to follow the old woman's advice and write in this book. We work together in silence. I
do not know the names of my compatriots.

We have dug quite a hole so far. I am covered in dirt. The businessman climbs out of it every so
often and brings us food and water.
June 10
 
There are seven of us.

The child broke the silence first. Her name is Jenny. Her mother died a month ago, and so she is
with us. She is nine. She cannot dig as quickly as we can, but she has the same endurance and
does not stop, even when she is tired.

That got us all talking. The businessman is actually a lawyer - his name is George. He lost his
father to cancer two nights before my wife died. He still brings us food and water from the diner
nearby, but it takes him several minutes to climb out of the hole we are still digging. We are so
deep now that we only see the sun around noon.

The dark-haired old woman who spoke to me before is named Mira. She says she is a gypsy who
lost her twin daughters in Romania. Her accent is thick and difficult to understand. She says that
she 'dig two time'.

The other two - Rebecca and James - are married. They say they are accidentally responsible for
the death of a friend, and are on the run from the law. They say that this is their penance, and that
they will rescue their friend.

I had great difficulty talking with the old man. His accent is almost completely beyond
understanding, made worse by a voice that has long since lost tone. All I can gather is that he
calls himself something like 'All' or 'Aho'.

My name is Brian Montenegro, and I will save my wife.

Unknown - June?
 
We are trapped, but I can write again.

The tunnel collapsed. We had gone so deep, straight down, that the sun barely ever went
overhead. I saw the side of the tunnel crack and slide down at us, and the clay above all fell with
it. We screamed as tons of dirt came crashing down on us. In a moment I was knocked flat,
pressed down with the weight of the earth, and everything was dark and silent. I could not move.
I was held immobile, and stuck there for... a month? days? I have no way to tell. I was without
water, and I now know a thirst and a hunger that I never thought possible.

The old man, Aho, rescued me. His shovel broke through the dirt that held me, and he pulled me
out. Together, we rescued the others. Aho had dug himself an alcove prior to the collapse, and he
was able to save the rest of us. He seems to know what to do better than the rest of us.

The others are as starved and thirsty as I am. We have no supplies. When we released James he,
in a fit of dark hunger, struck Jenny with his shovel. The blow should have killed her. She was
merely knocked unconscious. We tried to punish James for trying to harm a child, but had the
same result. We cannot seriously hurt each other (even though the pain from each strike is very
real, as I found out when James bit me). George proved to be something of a peacekeeper and
broke up the fight. Things have calmed down since then, and we have resumed digging.

???
 
we die of thirst and hunger but we cannot drink cannot eat cannot die even this book cannot be
harmed i try to eat pages they will not even tear

Date unknown
 
We hit bedrock.

We are beyond hunger and thirst. It is obvious that we will survive, no matter what, but that does
not diminish the need we feel for food and water. We tell each other stories about rain, about
breakfast and dinners, about sunlight. It is not that my starvation and dehydration have at all
diminished - it is that I am growing accustomed to that particular misery. My body shakes from
working constantly without food and water, but I always have the strength for one more scoop of
my shovel.

We look like holocaust survivors. We dig.

As we go, we say our names and our mission. It becomes our ritual, our battle cry.

My name is George, and I will save my father!

My name is Rebecca, and I will save my friend!

My name is Jenny, and I will save my mother!

My name Mira, I save daughter!

My name is Brian, and I will save my wife.

Even Aho joins in, and we all know his intent, even if the words are beyond understanding.

Aho raises his shovel above the rock and brings it down with a mighty crash, chipping off a
small piece. The stone will not stop us. We all start to chip at it, bit by bit.

As I strike, I think about the cave-in. Are there others like us who became trapped, without a
forward-thinking Aho to rescue them? Are they trapped in the ground still, unable to move,
drink, eat, or die? The thought is too much. I dig to take my mind off it.

Two man-heights into rock

 
I have lost all sense of time. I will use distances.

Our equipment is as sharp and strong as the day we began digging. Chipping the rock does not
dull the shovels, the lights on our helmets never go out, and I suspect and hope this pen will not
run out of ink. We have started using it to draw designs on ourselves in the few moments not
spent digging.

I do not know what the buckets are for. We have yet to use them.

I understand what we are doing. The night my wife died, I told God that I would do anything to
save Betty. He gave me the tools and the companions I would need to do it. So we will.

Aho has a sack, something none of the rest of us have. He has never shown us what is in it, and
is very protective of it. We have never seen him eat from it, but I constantly imagine that
somehow, it must be filled with food and water. I have waking dreams where I open it and feast
on the succulent morsels inside.
More man-heights into rock
 
I have come to realize that there is a way to tell time. Jenny is a teenager now. How many years
have we spent chipping into the stone? We have come so far. What is happening on the surface?
Who became President after Eisenhower? Did the commies drop the bomb? Did we?

Digging keeps my mind off things, and writing in this journal brings unpleasant thoughts. If the
war happened up there, could we be the last people left on Earth?

Countless man-heights into rock

 
I have been hungry for years - decades? We are all posessed of a resolute will, but mine broke. I
shoved Aho aside and grabbed that damned sack of his.

Inside - white crystals. I shoved some in my mouth - salt. I laughed. A thing to barely quench my
hunger and enhance, if possible, my thirst. My tongue was too dry to dissolve the stuff. Why
salt? I had no time to contemplate. Aho and his shovel were on me, and I recieved a beating
worse than the one all of us gave James. The old man was crimson with rage, and he struck me
everywhere, with blows that have moved miles of solid stone. I curled there, whimpering, but
nobody helped. George tried and was slammed into the wall for his efforts.
We always have the strength to keep digging. Aho kept finding the strength to hit me one more
time. I think he beat me for longer than I was trapped in the cave-in, but I don't remember. That
was so long ago.

When he was done, we wept and held each other, but our bodies don't have the moisture to
produce tears. That is just as well - all seven of us would have fought tooth and nail to drink
them.

My name is Brian, and I will save my wife.

Bottom of the stone
 
Jenny is a young, emaciated woman. George seems attracted to her, but we are constantly
exhausted. Nothing has come of it. Even James and Rebecca do not have the strength to be
husband and wife to each other - only to dig. I can see the effects of aging on myself. My hands
are wrinkled and calloused. My hair is turning grey. I was twenty-three when I began. How old
am I now? Not nearly as old as Aho.

The rock we are in has been getting hotter as we go. Like the hunger and thirst, we bear it.
Today, my suspicions were confirmed - we have been approaching magma. We broke through,
and there is a pool of it in the center of our chamber. Mira and Aho grabbed the buckets for the
first time, and filled them. The magma turned into a fluid, black substance. They poured it out
and the stuff solidified. It reminds me of onyx - it is smooth and glassy.

The rest of us join in, and it soon becomes apparent that we are building a tunnel, or tube. We
pour the onyx on the edges of the top to form a tube and let it sink slightly further into the lava.
Occasionally some magma spills into it, but it either solidifies on its own, or we get it out with
the buckets.

One and a half man-heights of onyx tube

 
I am starting to understand Aho.

He is Aho, and he will save his city.

hree man-heights of onyx tube

 
James stepped in the magma today. He said he wanted to do something different for a change.
Our clothes have long since turned to rags, and his went up in the smoke of his screams. We got
his foot into a bucket and cooled the magma stuck to it, and it slid off. The pain was too much
for him. He spent a long time in the corner of our little rock chamber, sobbing tearlessly. His foot
was fine, of course.

Why are our own nerves so cruel? Pain exists to inform us of damage. Hunger and thirst to
inform us of need. Our needs exist no longer, but our bodies are too stubborn to realize it. We
were changed just enough to succeed, and not enough to avoid this suffering.

Unbidden thoughts again. What if one of us falls in the magma? Would we be able to get them
out?

Five man-heights of onyx tube

 
The work on the tube goes faster than the rock digging, slow though it is.

I have great hope today! Aho and Mira started to attach onyx protrusions on the sides of the rock
tunnel above us, like the ones we have been attaching to the inside of our dark tube. We will be
using them as handholds. Knowing that we are making preparations to go back to the surface one
day thrills my spirit.

I realize that I could climb up now, and dig my way back through the dirt. I entertain thoughts of
going up now, and leaving all this.

But Betty would be down here still. I do not know where she is or what is happening to her, but I
know, somehow, that I am going to her. That all this is not fruitless.

My name is James, and I will save my friend.

My name is Mira, and I will save my daughter.

My name is Brian, and I will save my wife.

Many, many man-heights of Onyx tunnel

 
Jenny is getting gray hair. She is long past her prime. I feel as though she has sacrificed more
than any of us - a childhood, a husband, children of her own. The rest of us knew those things to
some degree.

We gave it all up for this. Maybe it was easier for her, not knowing what she was giving up.

Mira has been looking at Aho expectantly every so often. Aho shakes his head every time. I feel
as though we must be getting close. The others feel it too, and we work with more urgency.
I cannot see the bottom
 
I finally understand Aho. I do not recognize (nor could I pronounce) the name he gives it, but he
says his city was destroyed, and he will save the people in it. He has made this trip many times -
perhaps fifty? I ask him how many more times he will do this. He says he will not stop until
everyone in his city is safe.

He says his wife is in the sack he carries. What does that mean? What will my wife be if I reach
her?

He tells stories of the other people he has made the trip with.

Many trips ago, the tube broke midway down as Aho's fellow diggers were adding handholds.
That is why we are adding them here at the top as we make the tunnel.

Two of them were carried off by the magma. James cries for them. I shiver.

Completed tunnel
 
Aho says it is time to go down. I am in awe of how long we have made it. As we climb toward
the bottom, Mira slips and falls into the darkness. We sympathize, but we do not worry. We
know, and are correct, that we will find her in pain but unharmed at the bottom.

Based on Jenny's age, we have been digging for decades. Aho says that this is the end - when we
break through the bottom of the onyx tunnel, we will be where we have meant to go. He says we
must take the buckets and seperate to find those we are looking for, and then return to the tunnel.

The onyx floor is incredibly strong, but the smallest shards fly off it when we strike. They sting
as they slash at impermeable skin. We are starving and thirsting for the slightest drop of water in
an oven.

We dig.

My name is Aho, and I will save my city.

My name is Jenny, and I will save my mother.

My name is Brian, and I will save my wife.

The Inferno
 
We break through into sulphur, fire, and damnation. There is no question of where we are now.

The ground below me is shifting white - faces flow into each other in a swirling mass as flame
reaches between them. Aho says the whiteness, the faces are the essence of humans. The
landscape stretches on forever, like a great covering of snow. The heat belies any such fantasy.

Aho goes first. He steps lightly from our perch and runs like a man posessed, making a beeline
for the distance.

Mira next. Her footsteps are slow, and when she touches the ground she stops for a moment. I
see the white essence of souls begin to creep up her legs, and her face contorts in shock. We are
about to grab her, to pull her back into the tunnel when she sets off at a slow and determined
pace.

I am next.

?
 
I step down into distilled tortured humanity, and I fall. They slip over and around me. I know
them. I know their suffering. I have gone for years yearning for a crumb of bread, for a cool drop
of water, for one minute under the open sky. All of them know my pain, but they have known it
for centuries, for millenia. I am overwhelmed. I cannot find my way back. I flow into them, and
they into me. I am losing myself and finding their silent screams.

I think my name could be Brian or James. I am so lost.

?
 
I love them all.

I love them and I have a hand to move me.

I love them and I have a hand to write.

I love them and it makes the pain more such pain for loving them. They love all as I love all and all are
tormented by the torment of all.

cycle infinite vicious

None are the same, but this one is my wife.

Rebecca is my wife!

That is one is my friend!

I will save both

The bucket holds one

choice rips me please please don't leave me here

My name is Brian, and my wife my Betty is here. I have come for her and her alone.

I scoop her up, and the touch of her relief flows to me and calms those around her.

I love them all and I can stand.

For a moment, for all, there is hope. The restless dead are quiet.

One may leave, so might they also leave.

If someone cared to dig for them.

Bottom of the Onyx Tunnel:

I do not remember writing the last two entries, and my memory of what happened is hazed. Everyone is
here except James. Rebecca says that James tried to pull me back when I fell, and has not seen him
again. I do not show her my last entries.

Our buckets are filled, each with a soul. We have done it! I look at my wife, Betty, an essence with the
barest hint of a face, lying in a pail. I remember the face contorted in agony, but now it - she - is
complacent, perhaps content. Maybe even happy? She thirsts and I thirst. It is time to go up. She is out
of that place.

I am starving and roasting, and I couldn't care less.

I have found the greatest joy in this spot, sitting three feet above Hell.

I take the time to thank God for everything he has given me, for the tools and companions and the
opportunity. I do not thank him for the rescue of my wife. I feel as though I have earned that much.

Dirt
 
This was the place where I learned that nothing would stop us, the place where we first used
shovels to chip the rock, so long ago, when some of us were young.

We start to dig upwards. The work is so simple and refreshing - it is not so hot here. Earth moves
so easily at the slightest effort. Behind us, the tunnel and the rock are slowly filling with lava -
we will not be able to use it again. It is a shame. I am already making plans.

Higher Dirt
 
I found an earthworm today! To see life again was a delight. I cut it into six pieces, and we all
ate. It was so wonderful.

Higher
 
The dirt is damp, and we suck out the moisture. There is so much life here when you look for it.
We eat it all. George says he will treat us all to a fine meal when we get out. We laugh. Those of
us who are not naked have only shreds of clothing left. Nobody would let us into a diner, let
alone a restaurant.

Surface
 
Humanity is still here. Even the moon hurts my eyes. The sun, a vague memory, will sting so
sweetly in the morning. We run for rivers and grass and toilets, bringing our souls with us. Are
they happy? Is this a good place for them? It is better than what they had.
I found a newspaper. It is July 27, 2009. It has been over half a century since we were above
ground. Summer feels so cold.

My plans are finalized. Mira, Jenny and the others will not come with us, but Aho, Rebecca and I
will make another trip.

But first. I have a helmet that never goes dark. I have a shovel that does not dull after miles of
cutting into bedrock. I have a book that does not tear. I have a piece of onyx that will not melt. I
have my wife's soul in a bucket. I cannot be harmed, and I suspect I may be immortal. The world
will know.

I will ask those willing to come with us, because I still love the ones I left behind. I love all of
them. When seven of us went down, we brought six back and left one behind. How many could
we save with a hundred people? A thousand?

Her name is Rebecca, and she will save her husband.

His name is Aho, and he will save his city.

My name is Brian, and I will save everyone.

From HERE : http://forums.carm.org/v/showthread.php?t=170427