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In this hall light will find you,

Holding hands as the walls come tumbling down,

When they do, I will be right beside you,

The wings of a dove will replace the golden crown.

The church was damaged but still holding on. The massive stone walls were cracked, scraped and in some places holed but the structure looked stronger than ever. In fact, the damage gave it even more charisma, the sense of history and security, the true feeling of a sanctuary despite the fact that the interior was mostly destroyed.

The pews were stacked in the corners of the church, one on top the other. In the middle was a medium-sized bonfire, fueled by pieces of wood gathered from the outside or the pews themselves. There were about two dozen people scattered around the bonfire, men and women sitting down, some were anxiously walking up and down, others pondering and wondering about their task. All but few were deep in thought; those few were too tired to contemplate the nature of their destiny.

The poet was sitting on a chair with his love sitting on top of him and resting on his shoulder. They were both exhausted, in a state of half-awakeness and half-sleep, constantly drifting, prepared for another battle and awaiting the times of peace and prosperity.

There he was as well… Maurits was dressed in the 18^th century warrior clothes, the dandy attire filled with hidden weapons and accessories, decorated with only black and white. He was facing the cracked temple of the Jesus on the cross behind which was the cathedral stained glass. Instead of a saint or a prophet, it was shaped in a circle with the symbol of the Flower of Life in the colors of the entirety of the visible specter. He was contemplating whether people even knew what it meant, do they know what he stood for… or has the meaning been lost by literal reading, corrupt leaders or people who think not with their heads.

Everyone in the church wore black and white uniforms, mostly torn and damaged but still functional and recognizable. They all bared swords and knives although none of them looked like soldiers. The only thing that indicated they went through battles were the scratches and bruises on their equipment and bodies and the exhaustion they all shared.

“Excuse me, sir, but I need to enquire… what awaits us here?” a woman softly spoke, facing Maurits who was still gazing upon the crucified Christ. He never showed anxiety or fear, no signs of confusion or doubt, just a face which looked amazed and bewitched by human history and the course it went on. A slight, bitter aftertaste was also notable in the back of his throat.

“We await our next trial, madam. This church is offering us protection from the Grays for now. But they outnumber us greatly and are sure to strike soon enough.” His voice was deep and slightly raspy, it sounded intellectually seductive, a voice which garnered attention with its clarity and presence and commanded contemplation upon hearing it.

“But, sir, please… I do not understand. Why do they attack us? What have we ever done to deserve this?” the woman continued.

Maurits faced her and his expression spoke of a man who had once asked the same question himself. “We are a threat to their ignorance. They feel their authority and life philosophy come under scrutiny and therefore seek to remove us from their sights…and minds. You have done nothing but faced the fog in you and came to conclusions upon which you live your life. You showed courage and control to face yourself despite outside pressures of expectation or the pressures of submission to pre-existing norms … that is all you have done.”

“But that makes even less sense. How does this threaten anyone but maybe ourselves?!” a man shouted, a man which was kneeling on a column and now jumped up in fury and confusion. “If what you speak is true, then the Grays would see us as beacons of hope and would seek our help with their questions!”

“You have just answered it yourself, soldier. Questions! You confuse your own capability of inner examination with that of others. They don’t question themselves. They hold tight to their beliefs, which are never their own, with a fierce grip and most of them would rather die than let go. Whoever comes along and questions the foundations on which they base their whole existence, even if not imposed on them, must be removed by all means. It is a tragedy of humanity that one’s inner quest for self-betterment, understanding and wisdom can pose a threat to another.”

The man walked up and down and shook his head more and more as Maurits talked. “Still it does not benefit us or them if we fight in wars that kill us all. If your words are true, then we are the wiser, so it’s our fault that it has receded to the point of drawing blood. Surely there is a way of telling them that our quest is our own, for our own benefit and the only thing we would like to do is help!”

Maurits held his hands behind his back, his chest exposed, his eyes fiery, determined but simultaneously calming and understanding. He stood in place as the man walked near him, always gazing directly into his eyes. “This is a question of kill or be killed, nothing else. They seek only our submission, not our words of wisdom nor our help. But our submission is impossible because you all know that what is once understood can never be forgotten. You may forget facts, but not lessons. Our complete submission is an impossibility of which even they are aware of. This is way we are engaged at war.”

“Then I give up,” proclaimed the walking man, raising his hands into the air. “If this is a battle of pure survival then our quest is pointless. I don’t wish to be a man of violence when all I want is to offer assistance to others as much as myself. It is a contradiction of which I cannot be a part of.”

“Your point is a solid one and would be true if it wasn’t for one thing. Hope. Our fight is not necessarily for us alone, it is for a notion, an idea and a hope that one day our children may live in a world not preoccupied by fear, confusion and corruption. We must perceiver for the hope that humans may one day transcend the mind of an animal.”

A man who was sitting on the ground near the fire, his uniform in tatters, his skin scratched and bruised, spoke up: “But how can we be sure that it is we who are right? Just because we enquire about life or ourselves does not mean we stand at a higher ground then the Grays. Furthermore, you said they seek submission from us. Why are they so hell-bent on control? What drives them to control those who do not share their views or even those who do? Why do they hold control at such a high esteem?”

“Because they have none of it. When your inner world is a mystery, it inevitably becomes a contradiction, a paradox. The lack of answers leads to lack of control due to the fact that you cannot find cause and effect to your changing moods or your mindset. When dealing with yourself becomes an impossibility, you turn to controlling the world around you. Instead of adapting your view, you adapt those who surround you. When you feel lonely, you demand affection; when you feel powerless, you strive to become an authority… so when you feel a chaos of thoughts and emotions inside you which change beyond your control, you strive to change your environment to fit your current state.”

“So it’s envy that drives them?!” another woman shouted loudly so the voice echoed in the church and interrupted Maurits.

“More than envy; fear. In these minds, chaos rules. After years and years of piling up unresolved traumas, the fear of the world overcomes you; your biggest enemy becomes you. So what do they do? They bury it deep down inside and continue to live under the illusion of safety and a generally perceived normality… everyone is like this, they say. And then a disturbance occurs; they bear witness to one of you, the people who question the things which dig into the painful pasts we all have as individuals, someone with authentic skin and an authentic outlook, someone real… that becomes a threat. When you invest so much of your time avoiding yourself, it pains you beyond measure to see someone brave enough to confront themselves. So at first, they deny. Deny your quests and write them off as pointless and irresolvable. If this does not work, they ridicule you. Put labels on you such as crazy, “special”, insane, deluded, deranged, superstitious, senseless, lost in your own world… if you survive these methods of denial and rejection and you continue with your questioning, then they attack. When their rule, their lifetime attempt at illusionary control is under threat of being dismantled, they will hold no quarter and will kill everything which stands in the way to their control. But rest assured that after they get rid of you, they will surely sanctify you, make you into a symbol of freedom and love. This is a repeating pattern of history, you know many examples and there are many more stories of unsung heroes that you will never hear of. It is also a repeating pattern on every level, from presidents and directors to domestic lives.”

There was silence in the church, only disturbed by the crackling of the fire. Maurits continued: “So to answer your previous question: we are not better than them, we are wise enough to see there is no hierarchy among people nor should there be. We are teachers who know just as much or maybe a tiny bit more than the pupil, but our quest is in learning together! Theirs is the preservation of status quo, not of learning, but staying the same.”

From the back of the church, in the dark, a woman’s voice rang and echoed in the halls: “So what is their ultimate goal? What do the Grays want? We established that they seek control and status quo, but is that all or do they have something bigger in mind?”

Maurits turned to her and although she wasn’t visible aside from her silhouette, he found her eyes like a sniper. “There are those among them who are the extremes of the specter, who truly seek nothing but control, whether it is with power or money or status. But most commonly they seek peace, unity, order and purpose.”

The walking man now stopped in place and glared at Maurits with disbelief: “Wait, wait, wait. Those things sound quite admirable, in my opinion. What do we then stand for?!”

“The absolute same things. The only difference is that we believe in the freedom of choice whilst they, on the other hand, see free will as an opposing threat and an invitation to chaos. They want to rule all institutions of society in order to impose unity, peace and order and are not afraid to use lethal force on all those who do not share their views.”

“So basically…” the walking (now standing) man continued: “they want to rule the world while we want to free it, correct?”

“Now hold on just a second!” another voice rose in the shadows of the church and stepped forward, revealing the face of a young woman: “You keep on painting the picture of control as a negative thing! Surely it is needed otherwise it all really is chaotic, some aspects of control are absolutely vital for survival!”

Voices of approval were heard reverberating all across the church, everyone agreed with the woman. Maurits laughed softly out loud and spoke in an even deeper voice: “Everyone wants to rule the world.”

The same woman now looked baffled and showed an exaggerated expression of confusion and disbelief. An older man with a long, brown beard who was kneeling quietly next to the wall now stood up and spoke: “That is just untrue, sir. I, for one, have no interest in ruling any other human, neither in this room nor anywhere else. My grandmother and grandfather would be another example of people who only wish to enjoy life, share it and not rule over any other being, be it human or animal. They live in a country house, not too far away from here. They do crosswords together, take long walks and plant flowers all day long. I can assure you that they have no ambition of world domination.”

Again the halls were filled with the voices and nods of approval. Maurits cautiously looked upon their faces and smiled a sweet but mischievous grin. “You all mistake the world I am talking about. The world we know is limited by ourselves. By this I mean that all that you know about the world has a source in your senses; you saw it, heard it, touched it, smelt it, tasted it. Within this we must also include your thoughts and emotions, your ideas and revelations, the feelings of pain and pleasure; they all decide your world. So, you see… we all wish to be masters of the world, but for you, and your grandmother and grandfather,” (he nodded to the bearded man) “and all others who share our black and white uniform, it means the acceptance of yourself. Control is a negative term from every conceivable perspective; the only thing we should aspire to is the acceptance of ourselves and others, nothing more.”

The shadowed woman spoke again: “I’m sorry but I’m the first to admit I have problems with my self-acceptance, I’m nowhere near someone who has themselves in check and their will in obedience or has the ability to fully embrace it. I still have my vices. Why then do I have this uniform? I struggle with accepting myself as I am. It seems by your definition that I do not deserve this cloak.”

“Ah, see, here you hit the nail on the head unknowingly! How incompetent is a man who realizes the limits of his competence? You and all of you realize your vices, you know you have them and you realize their spectrum. Which grants you the knowledge that they are vices, that they are black but you also know that they hold a white side for you, they balance out the bad side with the good, the white with the black. You know that your vices are, in some way, necessary for you at this particular for whatever individual reason. The self control in this case is granted through the acceptance of the ying-yang.”

The bearded man had a very interested look as he kept starring at Maurits and wondering, so he questioned: “But let’s say that our vices get the better of us, that the black overrides the white… what then happens to us? Do we become all black? Do we become all evil or something?”

“No sir, becoming all black is an impossibility, as is becoming all white. Everything has a balance whether we see it or not. What would happen if you stepped beyond your control is already evident in the war we are fighting; you would join their side, your black and white would mix to become gray and hence you would lose the clarity of distinguishing between what is negative and what is positive for yourself!”

The woman who spoke at the beginning, who first raised her voice, now spoke with almost a broken-hearted tone: “It’s impossible to become… all white? Isn’t that what we are, in a sense, hoping for? And fighting for?”

Maurits turned to her and smiled a comforting smile, fully understanding the question and the innocence in her voice: “It is what we are fighting for, madam. We fight for transcending that which is animal, to become more than mere flesh, to aspire to the only thing which makes us better than any other fellow being on this Earth: freedom of choice. We fight for the loosening of the chains we put on ourselves, for the freedom to be, the freedom to become, transform, evolve. It is that and that alone which makes us more and abolishing it would result in devolution, regression back into no consciousness.”

“But…what happens if the people choose slavery? What if they want to be controlled? What then?” the walking man asked and very anxiously awaited for the answer. Even his voice was soft and barely audible, shaking as if he had asked a question to which he did not want to hear the answer.

“Then… the entire experiment of free will is lost, then the chance of becoming something better and something more, something greater…it all vanishes and is replaced by the sense of inevitability, the sense of pointlessness. If that happens…we lose. But even then, my friends, we have to give these people a choice. Instead of intimidating them all the time by providing threats and painting the picture of the world as a very grim place, filled with murder, deceit, corruption and evil, we educate them. In place of promoting a lifestyle of decadence, apathy and self-enhancement only via power and money, we show them the real picture, where we are all one; every human is there for a purpose, a purpose THEY decide. We are all equal whether we like it or not. A cook provides equally as much as does any CEO or president of any country. You know, just as well as I do… if we replace fear with love and give these people a choice between freedom or control… they will all proudly wear our uniforms and fight for our cause and the results would be visible within a single lifetime.”

Maurits paused, awaiting another question, but the people were silent. So he finished the thought: “Love only grows out of freedom; the freedom of expression, the freedom of choice… the freedom to be. What the Grays experimented with was growing this flower under artificial light, in artificial soil, watering it with artificial water and giving artificial nutrients. The result was a flower which was…well, artificial. Because, you see, no light made by man can give what the Sun can. The flower knows; it knows what is real and not, it can easily distinguish fake from true. It knows when it is allowed to grow or when she is expected to grow.”

The walking man asked: “So what does happen when we transcend? If we are not all white, then what do we become?”

Now Maurits turned to the couple sitting and drifting on the seat in each other’s arms. They never spoke a word but listened to everything that was spoken. With barely open eyes the poet saw Maurits’s gaze starring directly at them, but he didn’t know what to say. So Maurits spoke: “You will have a live demonstration right in front of you by these two fellow soldiers and healers, is that not so, Prince Vlad?”

“My name is not Vlad and my title definitely not Prince. I rule no one and aspire to no such thing.”

“Precisely! What makes you worthier of the title then?” Maurits smiled with a feeling of pride and honour, which baffled both the poet and his love. “By the understanding that you have for the things I explained, it automatically grants you the title, dear Vlad.”

“And what makes you King in this hierarchy of things where there is no hierarchy, where less control over others and more control of yourself grants you a bigger title? What would make me King?” the poet asked.

Maurits smiled gently and looked into her eyes, gazing with a knowing stare then looked back at the poet and uttered: “A princess.”

He walked to the middle of the church and asked the two to walk up to the middle, where five stairs were leading down to the hall which lead to the main entrance. Baffled, the couple stood up and followed orders and in that moment, the entire church began to shake. The already damaged stones began rumbling, the statue of the Cross began shaking and braking, the glasses of the Flower began coming down.

The people all stood up, quickly grabbed their shields and weapons and looked around in a state of near panic. One of them yelled: “What is happening?!”

Maurits answered nonchalantly without even looking at person: “They are mounting another attack, they’re surrounding the church.” All the people in the castle brought their shields closer to their chests, their swords and guns at arms’ length, scared but ready to fight… everyone except the two, who were looking at Maurits as he started whispering to them:

“You will lead these men and women by example. What they will witness now will give them all the hope they need in this and every other fight. The Grays will be storming the front gate at any moment; all you must do is walk while facing them directly, hand in hand, no weapons held, no defense against them. Walk with courage and determination, walk together and all will be alright. What we will witness you will feel, just hold no fear for what is about to happen. Put your trust into you, each other and watch the world around you acknowledge it and change because of it. Now go!”

Maurits stepped back behind them, the two lovers starred into each others’ eyes and smiled as they always did. As soon as their hands were holding, the spectacle began; both of their skins became covered in the shades of black and white, from the eyes, the face, hands, every part which wasn't covered by the uniform turned either into black or white and they perfectly mirrored themselves. Baffled and amazed, they both starred at each other for quite a few moments. “No fear!” Maurits yelled from behind.

That’s when they turned to the main entrance and stepped on the first stair. The church was crumbling and the front door was being shattered. After a few seconds, it broke and in stormed an army of gray men, indistinguishable from one another, no facial features to recognize, no uniform to bind them; they were completely gray. The only thing that was noticeable was the human figure they occupied and the swords in their hands. Maurits pulled out both of his swords, his eyes covered by the hood of his cloak. The smile on his face was that of expectation and acceptance as he witnessed the spectacle in front of him.

The Grays felt threatened by it, so they stormed them, whilst the others were almost frozen in place and couldn't pull their eyes away from the lovers. The coloring of the skin was sudden, unexpected and incredible enough, but it didn't stop there… because the shades weren't stationary. They began moving like a liquid between them. If before there was a wall between the white and the black, now both reached to each other and connected; it looked like water which was binding to become greater and bigger. The two never stopped walking, but the more they walked, the more intense the spectacle became. In intensified to a point where one of them became completely black and the other completely white, the meeting point of the two was in their holding hands. But even this switched; like water, the shades flowed between them so the one who was white before now became black and vice versa. The speed of this intensified by the second, until the two shades became indistinguishable and all that was seen was light which was dancing around them. Soon, even the two lovers disappeared behind this switching light. The Grays were now just a step away from them and in that moment, the final transformation happened.

Maurits smiled and saw the amazement in the eyes of his fellow soldiers, he saw the spark of hope and understanding which only this spectacle could provide. The Grays were disheartened and in shock.

After the immense shifting light stopped moving, it was revealed. The two lovers disappeared from sight.

They had become invisible.

Invisible and invincible.

Thom Yorke played surprise DJ set at UNDERCOVER’s 25th anniversary event (UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT - 25th Anniversary of UNDERCOVER) in Tokyo tonight (5 September, 24:00-26:00)
http://www.vision-tokyo.com/event/undercover-of-the-night-25th-annivesary-of-undercover ;

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partial tracklist *in random order

Sidney Bechet – Blue Horizon
Zomby – Rumours & Revolutions
eomac – no name
Mr. Oizo – Positif
Thom Yorke – The Clock (Surgeon Remix)
Boy 8-Bit – Fog Bank
Owiny Sigoma Band – Margaret Okudo - Dub
Radiohead – Meeting in the Aisle
Sidney Bechet Trio – Strange Fruit
MMM – Que Barbaro
Radiohead – Good Evening Mrs Magpie (Modeselektor RMX)
Modeselektor – 200007 (Siriusmo Remix)
Trim - Trousers Remix (Explicit)
Manna Dey, Mohd Rafi, S D Batish, Sudha Malhotra, Chorus - Yeh Hai Ishq Ishq
Joe - Slope
Stefan Goldmann - Fat Tails
Riva Starr - Dance Me (Original Mix)

*thanks to http://noise-jam.tumblr.com , http://twitter.com/chizuru_rh

Thom Yorke DJing at UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT in Tokyo (by yskooooo)

DJ THOM YORKE in UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT ① (by FLOWERS ROMANCE)

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Note: this page contains paid content.

Note: this page contains paid content.