Source manuscripts: profjimysan.com/sm10  a10.docx

Content advisory: The novel contains adult language, content, and situations, controversial religious and cultural references, speculative histories, acts of violence, and self-harm. For more information about the novel, visit SHATTERED MIRRORS NOTES.

What came before:

Ikart, an investigative angel, follows leads about the missing Guardian angel, Panea, which leads him to Henry Snyder and his Guardian, Melvin. With Henry being monitored by both Melvin and his shapeshifting friend Lindsey, Ikart sets out to uncover the mystery. As he delves deeper, it is revealed that Lord Lakita, an Emo Master and Governor over U169, is involved. Henry’s quest for answers about his brother Tom’s death entangles him in a complex web of emotions, spiritual awakening, and political intrigue within the Council. As Henry, Lauren, and Lindsey navigate the Great Directives at New Berkeley University, they face decisions that test their values and relationships. Ultimately, they must decide whether to comply with or defy the controlling governing system.

Echoes of Prana 
Narrator: Lauren Mendoza
Location: Burris Conference Center, New Berkeley University

“Can someone please turn this microphone on?”

“Lauren, check the on-off switch,” chimed Mr. Schuster, the Administrative Director.

“It seems to be on. I’ll wait for the media guys.”

“Rubio is the media specialist. He is here in the back wearing that fluorescent orange shirt. You can’t miss him. When you see him, tell him you must test the sound system.”

I glanced around the room, recognizing familiar faces from my classes. The sheer number of us crammed into this space left me in awe. Movement was restricted, and navigating to my assigned seat felt like a puzzle.

I had planned to introduce myself to the students seated, but a sudden realization struck me: I am a fleeting presence. We are all on the precipice of change, a new life with new responsibilities. I resolved to craft my words carefully during my presentation. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could reach someone with a message of hope.

I see Rubio poking his head up. His shirt makes him quickly stand out. I am not sure why he is crawling around on the floor. “Signal me when you want me to test the sound,” I mime, along with hand signals that probably make no sense. It is too loud here; even by yelling, conversing with someone a meter away is nearly impossible. With a thumbs-up, Rubio acknowledged my feeble hand signs and began moving toward the platform.

“Test. Test,” I address Rubio, standing below the speaker’s platform. When I tap on the mike, there is no sound.

“Maybe it is the power switch…”

“No, it is on.” I shrugged and sat down, giving the technical guys room to operate.

My boyfriend, Henry Snyder, is at table #4 in his ragged jeans and his brother’s faded t-shirt. He should be happy that he is one class away from leaving this place, but he still grieves. His brother, Tom, was taken from this room and murdered just last year.

The Council said it was ‘unfortunate’ and blamed Tom for running away from the authorities. What should the Council expect? I wrestle with guilt because I’ve devoted myself to the Council, but Henry’s grief carves away at my convictions.

I believe in order, in the Council’s vision—but the way they dismissed Tom’s death felt cold, like his life meant nothing. I try to justify it, but the words don’t hold. I want to believe the Council serves the people, but moments like this leave me questioning who they truly serve.

My heart is with the people also. The Council should be sensitive when they deliver this sort of news. They should not be assholes. Tom was too vocal against the Council and probably at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I glance across the room. Henry sits here physically, but part of him left that moment when Tom was taken. I search his face, hoping for the spark of the boy I once knew, but all I find is someone worn thin by grief. He doesn’t speak of his brother or family, but I see how his eyes linger at empty spaces. In those silences, I know he’s somewhere else, reliving the past.

When Henry and I met, his wild spontaneity delighted me, and his public displays of affection would make me blush. But now, a shadow hangs over him—his brother’s death has altered him profoundly. I am not sure if he will ever be normal again.

Coping seems elusive, and our conversations avoid the topic. I try to be patient, but watching someone you love fall apart is one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced. Outsiders, including my mother, have suggested I sever ties with him. Yet, I hesitate, torn between loyalty and the weight of change.

For those of us who truly know Henry, there is no denying that fear and anxiety are present and active inside him. I can never abandon someone who has loved me so deeply and sincerely. We know that there is much hidden beneath the surface of his mind. His brother’s death fuels a creature eating Henry from the inside, slowly consuming him and taking him to his ruin.

“Sir. Have you seen Doctor Magillacuddy?” I asked Mr. Schuster, the student ambassador.

“No, Lauren. I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is.”

“I have not seen him yet. He is supposed to speak soon.” I don’t care if he shows up or not. BUT … He will be here and on time. That asshole is always punctual. I “wish, just this time, that he was early.

“Don’t worry; he will be here.” Mr. Schuster winked at me, turned, and tried to walk through the aisles. His belly made it difficult, and his weight made for an awkward exit.

I don’t see Henry in his seat. We met during our freshman year, and he was known for his playful pranks, like making pens vanish, which always made me laugh. He was charming, huggable, and had a distinctive blueberry scent. Henry was also intelligent, kind, and optimistic. Unfortunately, he’s changed and now seems more cynical and insecure.

I am pleased that Henry was assigned to sit at the same table as Lindsey. It’s rare to see Henry reach out, and he seldom talks first, even though we live together. Lindsey, our friend and roommate, often leads conversations. She’s got a knack for politics, and today, she’s dressed down, likely in support of Henry. I think that’s why he’s talking to her. We will give him a gift late tonight that will change his life.

“Thank you,” I mimed a response to Mr. Schuster.

Henry returned to his seat and gave Lindsey some refreshments. He brought Lindsey some juice and a fruit plate and sat down again. Henry told me and Lindsey last night that he was unhappy about coming to this final course.

Henry bristles at the sight of soldiers stationed at every corridor. This campus feels more like a barracks than a university. We all pretend not to notice them, but the weight of their gaze presses down on everything we do. Henry sees them as shadows of his brother’s fate. I try to reassure him, but I can’t deny the growing fear that one wrong word could draw their attention.

His brother was pulled out of this class last year by those thugs and shot. Most people know that Tom was associated with the Rebels. Henry does not act like his brother. He is not political. Henry needs to recognize this undeniable fact.

From here, it looks like Lindsey is giving him a pep talk and helping him reduce his fear of what could happen. While there is good reason to think the military could get involved here, it isn’t very likely they will. Lindsey will need to get through to our friend and settle him down.

Last night, Lindsey calmed me down also as I prepared my clothes and speech for this event. I was a nervous wreck. As class president, I am used to public appearances, but Magpie is supposed to be here.

Magpie isn’t just my mentor—he’s a reminder that the Council watches closely. His approval can open doors, but his disapproval can end careers before they begin. I’ve learned to tread carefully, crafting every word and glance. Magpie’s presence at this seminar isn’t for encouragement—it’s a test, one I can’t afford to fail.

Without Lindsey’s calm, soothing voice and sparkling mojitos, my fingernails would be chewed to the nub. Of course, I should not be concerned about anyone’s approval, but I want my mom and peers to be proud of me. Who am I kidding? Most of my peers think I am stuck up. My mother thinks I am a loser because Henry and Lindsey always seem to be ‘hanging all over me.’ That is upside-down. I usually try to hang with them.

Rubio wanted me to do another sound check. “Test, test.” I checked to see if my microphone was working. Still, there was no sound, so I sat back down.

My mom never liked Henry or Lindsey. Not because they are not Filipino or are not on the Dean’s List. She doesn’t like Lindsey because she has not had a child after six years of trying. Lindsey started having attendants almost two years before me. Mother calls her a slut because she thinks Lindsey is just enjoying the sex and not thinking about the Council’s Great Directives. And Mother doesn’t like Henry because… mostly just because. Sometimes, she says, ‘he controls me.’ That is not true.

I have tried to tell her that I like my two besties because we are so close but not clingy. We share a four-bedroom flat. The three of us can share intimate moments and still be confident in our ability to do our own thing. It’s funny that despite our intimacy, they don’t really like what I do, but they cheer for me anyway. I love them. They will have my back even if they disagree with me. They understand that I am all about academics and the Council. I was amazed at how they supported me last night. They know I am nervous because the next 48 hours are critical.

I see Magpie walking into the room. Simultaneously, Mr. Schuster motions me to test the microphone again: “Test, test.” Still, there is no sound. A strange man lies down on the podium floor.

“My name is Soon. Do another test, please.”

“Hi,” I managed a tiny cringy smile. “Test, test.” I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Soon said, “I heard something.” I looked at Rubio and shrugged. When Soon moved the cable, we all heard a crackle.

“I am going to step off the platform and sit down.” Soon nodded.

I am fortunate to have been accepted into a Council position once I graduate. I laughed because I thought I could never be a sound technician. The fact is that I was groomed for this position literally before I could walk by men who owed my mother, starting with my father. My supervisor and mentor, Dr. Magillacuddy, who is here, is one of those men, too. I call him Magpie. He hates being called Magpie.

I have known Magpie for a long time, but I still don’t feel comfortable working with him. Once I have completed this seminar, I will start my career at Council Associates as a Public Emissary Assistant and work with him daily for at least two years. Then I will fly! Bye-bye, Magpie. It seems like an eternity. For now, it is best if I stay away from him.

Mr. Schuster gave me a thumbs-up. It was time to start, so I walked up to the podium again.

“Good morning….” I paused.

“Many of you know me, but for those who don’t, I am your class president, Lauren Mendoza. I want to congratulate everyone on making it to our final course. I have been asked to take care of some administrative duties and introduce our Speaker for this seminar.”

There was scattered applause, but it felt forced, obligatory. A ripple of tension spread through the room as Magpie took his place. Students exchanged uneasy glances, and more than one pair of eyes flicked toward the exit, as if weighing the cost of leaving. No one forgot what happened to Tom Snyder.

“I ask that you please put away your phones. You will find some papers in the center of your table, including information about breaks and where to find restrooms. The seminar will start soon, and I will present an introduction to our topic and our esteemed speaker.” I looked over to the side of the stage and saw Magpie.

He makes me feel nervous. I need to impress him with my performance today. Magpie, or Doctor. Dr. Magillacuddy’s first name is Alex, but I rarely, if ever, call him Alex. I usually call him Magpie, except in public.

He likes it when people call him Doctor in public, especially me. In private, he likes me to call him Alex, but never in public. He gets angry if I call him Alex, and others in his office can hear me. But he hates it even more if I call him Magpie. I hate it when he gets angry, and he gets angry a lot! Now, it is fun for me to push his buttons! That’s precisely why I call him Maggie; he is just like those birds. Magpies are supposedly intelligent creatures that strut around and chatter endlessly. But at the end of the day, they are just birds. Smart, like a bird, and struts like a turd. Strut, strut, strut.

I wish I had known Henry when I was younger. Magpie became my career mentor when I was 14, hired by my father. My father hired him at the direction of my mother. Since then, I have had to deal with his moodiness. One moment happy and the next, crying like a itsy-bitsy baby. He goes from easygoing (mostly when he wants sex) to being serious or upset. He often often threatens me. He hasn’t hit me and only yelled. it is irritating because he gets upset over minor, often unnecessary, details.

I am so uptight now because soon he will be my supervisor for my new position, and I don’t want to ruin this opportunity. If I am not careful, I can become a target. Magpie is a vengeful individual. I admired this quality in him at first. I agreed with my mother that he would be a good mating partner. My admiration vanished days later, but it was too late, and I was pregnant. And my little bit of admiration became terror after I saw what he did to Henry’s brother. I have to bide my time as he is the father to our son.

“Let me start with a story that my father told me. My father was an avid scholar of Council history. Before time existed, four of the gods, who were forming members of the Council, got together to innovate a novel invention, Prana. They sat together in a circle and experimented with infusing Prana into Fantasia Imagineria. … Mr. Schuster, please dim the lights.“

It got quiet except for some coughs, whispers, and chair shuffling.

“I first used this exercise with my family, which was quite memorable. I think it will translate well into this setting. Not only will you learn something that you can do tonight with your significant other, but hopefully, it will distract you from the anger some of you are feeling.”

I stepped off the platform and motioned to Henry and Lindsey to join me.

“Everybody, please stand. Let’s pretend we are in a circle. I will ask everyone to close their eyes and hold hands around the imaginary table where we sit. Mr. Schuster, please dim the lights.” It was a bit annoying to ask again, so I patiently waited until the lights dimmed, and there was calm and silence.

“We are all in a circle connected with our hands. We are a circuit. Please keep your eyes closed and visualize all of us in a circle… Feel the chair as it touches your body. Feel the air as it fills your lungs. Feel your chest rise and fall. Can you feel your heartbeat?” I paused for 20 seconds.

“Feel the connection to your neighbor. Feel their hand in your hand. Can you feel their heartbeat? Can you hear their breath? Can you feel their chest rise and fall? Do you know their thoughts and feelings?”  No one answered as the questions were rhetorical. I continued, “If you pay attention, you can feel the emanations from your neighbor’s soul. There is energy in the people around you, and you are all connected in series. “We are one in the body. We are one in the spirit. But even the strongest body can fracture if one piece resists.””

I heard some snickers and harsh remarks. I returned to the podium.

“I hear you. I will go off script and tell the rest of the story for the nay-sayers… Because I hear you! Let’s get a little technical. According to the Legend of Jehovah in the latest Standard History Primer, the gods infused their shadow into Prana to create the first soul. At the time, there was no here, here.

“Jehovah created a circle, Jehovah’s Circle, with other gods and, from their shadow, created a point. From this point came the vesica piscis, which became the flower of creation, sometimes called the nymphaea flower. Some of you may have studied the Fantasia Matrix in Biophysical Sociology. For those who don’t know, a study done here at New Berkeley has metaphysical implications. The study demonstrated the existence of a Fantasia Matrix that provides access to an added dimension in plants. McDaniel & Stone grafted a piece of Fantasia with various vegetable plants and accidentally discovered that the nucleus of plant cells transformed into a matrix… Perhaps more amazing is that these plants can communicate with humans through their dreams. This is all so vague and, frankly, scary. All the details and connections have not been made, but the implications of this study are mind-blowing.”

I looked around and noticed that no one was texting anymore. I had gone entirely off my planned script. Then I saw Magpie smiling. It seemed to be a genuine smile. I am so used to his crass face that it is nice to see him happy. I see this smile when our daughter is happy.

“There is much more to this study, but let’s return to the gods’ work with Prana. No one, no human, knows how you can put a shadow into anything, but some suspect that something related to light wavelengths may be used. For example, the process would begin with wrapping Prana and Fantasia in a conductor. The magic will happen when the conductor is charged to 30 coulombs, which will induce the pneuma-Lorentz force and a super-deconvalence of the lightwaves around the Prana. This is all theoretical, but the chance we could make discoveries like this is mindblowing!”

I slammed a book down on the podium, and everyone froze. I continued speaking as I went into a frenzy.

“Prana is a concept we don’t understand or can identify in the real world. Prana is unexplained in science, yet we have the words of the gods explaining they use it to create the essence of life. But it is easy to miss the point. This is our existential connection to the eternal soul. My father suspected that the very presence of gods is found in every living thing we are exposed to daily. He was fascinated by the kabbalah and the ten sefirot. He drew a connection between the vesica piscis, the cells of life that make up the tree of life, and the birth of every living thing. He is famous for the Genesis Corollary taught in every biology course at every university, yet his underlying principles are never discussed. Go ahead and say it, damn it!”

In unison, the audience chanted, “We can do everything through Jehova.”

“You learned well. My father often said, ‘All you need is the faith of a mustard seed.’ You have heard this many times. My father’s first principle is faith is always a mirror. Faith is found in a mirror. My father wrote a book that no one reads called The Genesis Corollary, explaining how all people can generate eternal power and life by looking into a mirror. Looking into a mirror allows you to recognize what you have and lack and connect you with the Prana inside you. Imagine that! You only need a mirror to transcend to a higher level. It is available to all. You would have the power of the gods! What stops you?”

The room started buzzing, and some girls pulled out mirrors from their purses.

“Recently, I went to a lecture by Professor Randolf Harvey Brown, who said that this may be the secret way Jehovah created a diffused gas that approximated a shattered mirror to defeat Shiva. Recalling our story about the creation of the soul, the story goes that each god in Jehovah’s Circle manifested their prototype into the soul. Still, only one of the four gods was emotionally overcome and started weeping. Does anyone know who that god was?”

Again, crickets. Then, I heard that voice from my side.

“Jehovah!”

It is a familiar voice. I was astonished or mortified. It should have been a student. I hoped Lindsey would participate because I told her this story long ago. But I recognized the voice. It was Magpie. I decided to start talking before the Magpie would start squawking, chirping, or whatever those birds do to make noise.

“Yes, it was Jehovah. Jehovah foresaw that there would be turmoil for the future of souls. Jehovah wept when he realized the fate of the soul. Jehovah foreshadowed the great flood and TTD.”

I picked up the microphone and started walking towards my mentor. “We have read in our History Primer that the world experienced incredible loss from the effects of The Ten Days (TTD) cataclysmic event. We have heard this repeatedly since primary school; it was a major event for U169. TTD destroyed most of the earth through a barrage of fire and brimstone, causing 90% elimination of the animal and human population, the same as the great flood. Asia, Europe, the Western half, Northern North America, and Australia disappeared. They are now underwater. “

“Why would Jehovah destroy our world again?” It was my friend Lindsey’s voice. “It is supposed to be a mystery, but I don’t think it is.“ It was good that Lindsey heard my dog whistle.

But unbelievably, Magpie chimed in. “Miss, why do you think he destroyed the world twice?

“I think it is an opportunity to start again.”

It was a good textbook answer. However, it was irritating that Magpie was getting involved before his introduction. He has to be the center of attention, and it makes me feel out of control.

“He did this before and did not get the results he expected. You would have thought that a wise, all-knowing God would not make the same mistake again.”

“Did you know we were warned that this destruction would happen? … Both times?” Magpie would not shut up.

I quickly took the opportunity to stop the annoyance and gain control. “Our world knew for several decades that this destruction was coming, and we had the power to keep it from happening. We let it happen anyway. Jehovah blames us. We did evil, he says. But there is hope for the future; all you need is the faith of a mustard seed, and you can visualize and construct a new world. You don’t need to visualize; our hope is found in the Council’s Great Directives. Let us recite the Great Directives, One… “

The audience rose in unison, their chant echoing with practiced precision: ‘Do as you can!’ Some voices trembled, but no one dared remain silent. Fear hummed beneath their obedience, a shared understanding that deviation meant consequences.

“And Two…”

The audience replied more fervently, “God and Family at the Center!”

I took advantage of the conditioning we have received since birth. We are trained to blindly respond to prompts that wipe away all thoughts or applications of thought. It is just a reflex. We learned these responses as children in primary school from our guardians and from every book we read. It gives me goosebumps to use this technique when I lead rallies—approved rallies, of course.

“You may be seated… Today, Dr. Magillacuddy is our honored Speaker. He has been active with the Council for over twenty years and is fortunate to be here to help us overcome our last hurdle. He has received numerous awards for his work with the Council and the Leadership Committee. He is an extremely knowledgeable resource!”

The audience did not sit. There were angry faces and some loud boos. A few moments before, the audience was open and patient. Now, they are ravenous and highly closed-minded.

“I must remind you that this is an important part of completing our time at New Berkeley. Our Speaker will explain the next phase of service we will enter. Please rise and give a nice Berkeley Owl hoot for Dr. Magillacuddy!”

Most of the audience stood up and clapped out of respect or fear. There were a few hoots, but everyone quickly sat down. The class started to murmur as the Speaker organized his notes on the podium. Many students were not happy they were required to take an additional seminar, and they were less thrilled when they learned who the guest Speaker would be.

They all had heard horror stories, especially about Tom Snyder, who made a scene at his final seminar. Magpie was teaching that seminar also. I was studying in the library when I heard shouting and screaming as the Black Brigade took Tom to the Council for sentencing. But that never happened. I could see that he was blindfolded. Then he was out of view. I heard a loud bang. The report said he hit a soldier and tried to escape. I remember the blood on the wall. They could have cleaned the blood better.

My father told me privately that Dr. Magillacuddy was a judge for the Black Brigade. Judges hear cases concerning non-compliance with the Council’s directives. Those who do not comply or pass their education assignments before their 25th birthday are placed into the Rededicate Corp or executed. Tom was executed.