Produced by Jonathan Dunn THE REVOLUTIONS OF TIME By Jonathan Dunn Note to the reader: The manuscript for this book was found in a weather-beaten stone box on an island in the Pacific Ocean. Its contents were written in an ancient form of Latin, which was translated and edited by Jonathan Dunn. Dedicated to Bernibus, amicus certus in re incerta cernitur. Table of Contents: Chapter 1: Past and Present Chapter 2: Predestined Deja Vu Chapter 3: Zards and Canitaurs Chapter 4: Onan, Lord of the Past Chapter 5: The Treeway Chapter 6: The Fiery Lake Chapter 7: Down to Nunami Chapter 8: The Temple of Time Chapter 9: Mutually Assured Deception Chapter 10: Devolution Chapter 11: The Land Across the Sea Chapter 12: The White Eagle Chapter 13: The Big Bang Chapter 14: Past and Future ...The very men who claimed mental superiority because they were free from superstitions and divine disillusionment were themselves victims of their own sophism, and while they thought themselves crowned with enlightenment, it was naught but the Phrygian caps of their prejudices toward the material state. --Jehu, the Kinsman Redeemer The physical manifestation of the spiritual force is not the spiritual force at all, only a bland deception. If you only focus on what you can see directly, than you chase after only the representation and not the object desired. If a bird is flying through the sky at noontime, casting a shadow on the ground below him, and a man comes along, and in the hope of catching the bird chases after its shadow, it is evident that he will never catch it, for when he does reach it, he will find that there is nothing there at all, only the shadow of what it was he desired. So it is with the spiritual! --Onan, Lord of the Past Chapter 1: Past and Present My name is Jehu. Most probably it sounds foreign and unfamiliar to you, devoid of the qualities of affection and personality which give character to a name. It is a harsh name, cold and inhuman, like something out of the night, an unwelcome intruder into the warmth of familiarity. It inspires no blissful memories, nor does it kindle fond feelings in the bosom of the hearer, instead the heart is hardened to it like the feathers of a duck to water, repulsing it, leaving it to run off into the ditches and by-ways of the long forgotten past, to trickle dejectedly into those stagnant ponds where so many words of wisdom are imprisoned: out of sight, out of mind, out of heart, out of history. Yet while history is forgotten and misconstrued, it is repeated, for what is life without water, which nourishes and sustains it, and what is life without wisdom, which protects and cultivates it?