Evan, Rev, Abby, and Diesel brainstorm Golden Age civilizations and brain implants for their school project, quickly realizing that designing a perfect society is complicated when everyone has different ideas about freedom and control. “Our assignment is to work as a group,” Evan says, reading from the screen, “and describe what a Golden Age civilization high school looks like.”
He looks up. “Seriously?”
“Books already talk about utopian societies in the distant past,” Rev says. “Atlantis, Lemuria. Whole shelves of them.”
“And most people don’t believe any of those stories,” Abby adds. “They think they’re legends.”
Evan’s mind flashes back to the opening lines of Crysticode 903. Golden ages. Lost worlds. Hidden teachers.
He feels a prickle at the back of his neck.
“Let’s just start by brainstorming,” he says. “If we could change society, how should it change?”
“That’s easy,” Abby says. “In my version, all Believers respect, appreciate, and obey their teachers. Students study hard and pass tests easily.”
“Boring,” Diesel snorts. “If you want a successful society, don’t base it on disciplined behavior from a bunch of rebellious teens. Human nature isn’t going to change just because you want it to.
“You have to lower the standards and upgrade the tech.” His eyes light up. “Implant a computer chip in everyone’s brain. Upload data straight into their minds. Link all brains through the Internet. New info uploads every night. No school. No tests. Best of all, no teachers.”
Evan feels his stomach twist—a chip in everyone’s head.
“That sounds… efficient,” Abby says slowly. “All the correct beliefs could be inserted while we sleep. I’d have blind faith that the programmers want to help me get better. No questions. Everyone is equal.”
“Ugh,” Rev says. “I’m not surrendering my mind to some human controller. I want to be free to make my own mistakes.”
“Same,” Evan says. “And imagine if an evil programmer hacks the system and plants a corrupting virus. In a short time, you’d have riots, shoplifting, murders, car thefts everywhere.”
He pauses.
“Oh, wait,” he adds. “That’s already happening.”
The room goes still for a beat.
As the debate continues, Diesel suggests global resets to fix societal problems, while Rev asks about superpowers being pre-installed in human minds. “No problem,” Diesel says, unbothered. “You just do a global reset. Call it a holiday. New upload wipes everybody’s brain and installs the latest version without the virus.
“You could erase and rewrite history to match progressive standards. Make science and biology more fluid. Upgrade morals so everyone happily accepts other people’s personal lifestyles, no matter how weird. Honestly, I’m thinking of getting my body frozen so I can wake up in that future. Life would be like a dream. You imagine who you want to be, and the system does the rest.”
Rev taps a pencil against his notebook. “If I get a super‑brain out of it,” he says, “can I also get superpowers pre‑installed? A whole world of super‑powered beings sounds incredible.”
“You can’t be serious,” Abby says. “Haven’t you seen what happens in movies when people get superpowers? They always go evil and try to rule the city.”
Evan watches the arguments swirl like trial versions of possible futures.
Each one feels like a clue—and a warning.
Shifting the focus from technology to faith, Abby considers holy spirit possession as a shortcut to virtue, but Evan warns about evil spirits disguising themselves to take over human bodies. “A holy spirit’d rather possess me,” Abby says suddenly, voice bright. “I surrender my will. The holy spirit enters and completely controls me. I don’t have to do anything, wait to be lifted into Heaven.”
“First you get possessed,” Diesel says, “then you learn to fly. Sure. Totally realistic.”
Evan leans forward. “What if an evil spirit disguises itself as a holy spirit and takes over your body?” he asks. “You’d think you’re doing the right thing, but you’d actually be acting foolish, non‑virtuous—even criminal.
“And if you finally realize a monster possesses you,” he adds, “you’d be trapped. You could end up addicted to drugs and alcohol, living on the street, stealing to survive.”
Abby stiffens. “I’d call on my divine Savior,” she says. “Invite him into my heart. He’d kick out the monster.”
“Most likely,” Evan says quietly, “you’d convince yourself your Savior already came—in the form of the drugs, the alcohol, and the fantasy lifestyle. People do that now.
“Perverse people build fantasy ‘authentic self’ identities,” he continues. “They demand everyone around them honor and respect their make‑believe illusions and treat them as equal to reality.”
“Isn’t that already happening?” Diesel asks.
No one has to answer.
Moving away from spiritual solutions, Rev and Diesel debate AI robot servants and assisted evolution as the ultimate path to human leisure. “Okay,” Rev says. “How about this instead: we don’t change our brains or get possessed at all. We fill the world with slave AI robots.
Humans don’t need to learn anything. After a while, AIs do everything—including designing and building better versions of themselves. They self‑replicate and exist forever. Humans retire. Robots grow food, cook and build mansions. We become happy couch potatoes, playing games and watching harmless videos made by AI movie studios. The entertainment trains us how to behave.”
Diesel’s grin spreads. “Best plan yet. I get to do whatever I want and still have an army of robot slaves to boss around. That’s real power. And of course, AI would always act to maximize my pleasure.”
“You’d create a world of lazy, indulgent, selfish mini‑dictators,” Evan says. He stops. “Oh, wait. That’s already happening.”
“So what?” Diesel says. “As long as everyone does whatever they want, they’re happy. We trust superior AI to run the government and print enough money so everyone gets a universal basic income. Robots are our doctors and surgeons, telling us which body parts to cut off. They design meds and vaccines so our bodies function exactly how AI scientists planned.”
Rev’s eyes gleam with dark curiosity. “They could take over designing, growing, and programming new baby humans, too. Phase out sex‑related body parts so no one has gender confusion. Give everyone the same neutral bodies—same skin tone, hair, zero defects. All with identical enhanced qualities, abilities, beliefs, and values. I’d re‑embody in a superhuman form.”
Abby shudders. “The Creator gives us free will,” she says, “but I don’t think He intends for us to redesign the human body from scratch.”
“Call it assisted evolution,” Diesel says. “Animals go from four legs to two legs and two arms. AI evolves us to no legs and four arms so we can play more advanced games. Robots carry us everywhere. Most people sit down eighty percent of the time anyway. Not a big change.”
Evan feels something inside him snap.
Frustrated by the group's dystopian ideas, Evan advocates for independent soul self-development and avoiding superpower corruption. “Enough,” he says. “The assignment is to design a Utopian world, not a science‑fiction horror show.
“Let’s reset. We design a world for independent soul self‑development, not for tuning the body for pleasure and indulgence. The only way to keep our creative freedom is to use it wisely and virtuously.
“We lose our liberty,” he warns, “if we surrender to brain chips, spirit possession, or AI robot servants.”
Diesel shrugs. “Why would I care about soul mastery when I don’t even have a soul?”
“You have a temporary emotional and mental consciousness,” Evan says. “Treat that as a temporary pseudo‑soul. If you develop it, you’ll get rewards for the rest of your life.
“And maybe,” he adds, “if you master enough wisdom, virtues, and mystic powers, you earn a real soul.”
Diesel hesitates. “Fine. I’ll play along—for now. I don’t like any of the other options anyway. I don’t want a chip in my head or an alien in my body.”
“I’ve been waiting for my Savior to come and bring Heaven to Earth,” Abby says. “But apparently there are… delays. What’s your idea of Heaven on Earth, Evan?”
“Most Golden Age civilizations in old stories don’t use brain chips, alien possession, or AI,” Rev says. “Their citizens have more wisdom, more virtue, and stronger powers than people now. Then something goes wrong. They slide into selfishness and indulgence. Their superpowers weaken as their morals and values rot.”
The image hangs there: a shining world collapsing from the inside.
Addressing Diesel's desire for unlimited abilities, Evan explains mystic energy, cosmic law, and the hidden prices of dark power offered by entities like Sir Pent. “If I had superpowers,” Diesel says, “I’d do anything to keep them.”
“You can have superpowers now,” Evan says. “But you’d have to give up your foolish fantasies and your addictions to pleasure.”
Diesel frowns. “So my choice is superpowers or pleasure. Being happy or being all‑powerful. Why can’t I use my superpowers to get more selfish pleasure?”
“Because spiritual powers depend on abundant mystic energy,” Evan says. “Creating temporary happy sensations drains your limited energy. Wasted energy isn’t automatically replaced. Keep doing it, and your reservoir of mystic light empties. Your creative power shrinks.”
“So buying a house is better than buying candy bars?” Diesel asks.
“Helping others does more than helping only yourself,” Evan replies. “Read to a group of children or seniors instead of reading alone. Organize your neighborhood to clean up a playground, or run a yard sale for charity. You usually feel better in the process.”
“I can still be selfish,” Diesel argues. “I’ll just use my superpowers to make more energy. How do I get powers that create extra power?”
“New energy can’t be created with superpowers,” Evan says. “Souls deposit reserve energy into a mystic bank account. They can enhance that energy through virtuous thoughts and feelings, then direct it wisely for their own good and for others.
“Souls can use superpowers to rearrange atoms into physical forms,” he says. “They can magnetize and earn more holy spirit light to work with. But they cannot generate brand‑new energy from nothing.”
“In my perfect world,” Diesel says, “souls can create all the energy they want.”
“Then you break cosmic law,” Evan answers. “Your world spirals into chaos and destruction.
“Sir Pent already designs a world like that,” he adds quietly. “He uses endless energy by recycling contaminated dark power.”
Diesel brightens. “I knew there had to be a way to be both happy and all‑powerful. How do I join Sir Pent and get unlimited energy?”
“I highly advise against that,” Evan says. “Pure mystic energy is earned before it’s given. Corrupted chaos energy is easy access, but it carries a hidden, multiplied price that hits later.”
“That’s like the difference between your checking account and a credit card,” Rev says. “You swipe the card, and the bill shows up with interest and fees. Credit cards look free, but they slowly drag people into debt and poverty.
“It makes more sense to gain pure mystic light first, then invest it wisely.”
“I agree,” Abby says. “Tempters, serpents, demons—none of them can be trusted. Especially if they’re offering ‘irresistible bargains.’ We don’t want monsters in our heaven.”
Evan thinks of Crysticode 903 again.
Tempters. Dark energy. Hidden prices.
The book isn’t theory anymore.
Transitioning to the practicalities of a utopian school, Evan and Rev discuss graduate master teachers and the lack of qualified human educators on Earth. “A Golden Age school needs teachers who are wise, virtuous, and self‑disciplined,” Evan says. “They have to be living examples, showing teens how to cultivate those same qualities.
“Most current teachers haven’t mastered their soul superpowers,” he adds. “So they’re not ready to train soul students in mystic powers yet.”
“That’s a problem,” Rev says. “Where do we find real teachers?”
“There are many graduate master teachers without physical bodies on Earth right now,” Evan says.
Diesel groans. “Great. A high school taught by ghost teachers floating in the air. We’re going to fail this assignment for sure. First, you declare real teachers unqualified. Then you replace them with invisible phantoms. I’m changing groups.”
“Wait,” Evan says. “At first, human teachers aren’t ready because they weren’t trained as children. But over time, that changes.
“When computers first appeared, there were no computer teachers,” he points out. Educators have to learn before they can teach. Even now, students often know more about the latest software than their teachers, who can barely keep up.
“Plenty of students just teach themselves online.”
“Then cut out teachers altogether,” Diesel says. “Give every kid a computer and high‑speed Internet. Let them self‑learn. Problem solved.”
“Current teachers can still teach self‑discipline and a virtuous lifestyle,” Abby says. “Teens usually don’t have enough self‑control to resist getting sucked into fantasy games, endless entertainment, and social media.
“How do teachers motivate students who don’t want to learn?”
“There are souls who don’t want to learn soul lessons either,” Evan says. “They drop out and default to the school of hard knocks—or they enroll in fake schools.
“False teachers train them to use cheap, chaotic energy,” he continues. “Like credit cards—it’s easy at first, but the debt comes later.”
Abby sighs. “We’ve barely started this assignment, and we already have more problems than answers. Let’s at least assume kids want to learn because they grow up with real self‑respect.”
Looking a thousand years into the future, Evan, Rev, Abby, and Diesel outline the mystic curriculum and aura accountability required for a successful utopian society. “Assume,” Rev says, “that graduate master teachers find a way to communicate with ensouled students.
“And let’s skip ahead a thousand years,” he adds. “Assume the transition to Utopia already happens. We can go back and fill in the steps later. Right now, what’s the curriculum?”
“I’m in,” Diesel says. “Ghost teachers plus maybe some ‘motivational’ drugs for students. What are we teaching besides reading, writing, and math?”
“From an early age,” Evan says, “kids learn cosmic laws and deep mystical truths as facts—not as man‑made religious opinions.
“They learn how to connect with their souls and higher consciences. They know they are souls with temporary physical bodies attending soul school to master wisdom, virtues, and mystic powers.
“They know they’ve lived before,” he says. “They get taught how to recall past lives.
“From early on, kids practice mystic senses: foresight, intuition, discernment, gut feelings, even prophecy. They grow up depending on their higher conscience to guide their decisions.”
“When everyone lives the same divine lifestyle,” Rev says, “it becomes normal to expect mystic powers to work.”
“No fantasy beliefs at all?” Abby asks. “Won’t that be boring for children?”
“The real mystic world is way more exciting than make‑believe,” Evan says.
“Many children are born able to see angels, saints, elementals, ghosts, even evil spirits. No one helps them understand what they see, so they unlearn it.
“Some people can see the aura—an energy glow around the body—and use it to judge character. If everyone accepts and develops these skills, it strengthens the proof that the mystic world exists.”
“I like that,” Rev says. “Instead of twisted fantasies, everyone gets equal access to mystic reality.
“It’s easier to believe you become a ghost after death,” he adds, “if you grow up seeing them. At first, it’d be distracting, but people would adapt. Some discarnate souls might even ask for help.
“And we could train kids how to protect themselves from evil spirits.”
“Instead of indoctrinating kids with random false beliefs,” Abby says, “we show them how the parallel spiritual world actually works.”
“Students learn to read each other’s thoughts,” Evan says. “They learn to communicate globally without the Internet.
“They master creating a firewall of virtuous light around their bodies to shield against dark forces. Everyone learns how to call angels and master teachers for daily protection.”
“Everyone helps protect the community,” Abby adds. “Adults understand that kids become the next generation, so raising and educating children is everybody’s priority.
“Wise, virtuous role models surround young people.”
“Young children are treated as old souls with new bodies,” Rev says. “They’re taught discipline, virtue, and wisdom. They learn foundational cosmic laws so their morals and values match reality.”
“Non‑virtue isn’t encouraged or normalized,” Evan says. “If a soul emits negative emotions, people nearby surround them with a bubble of violet energy. It captures the misused energy until the soul learns to transmute it.
“The un‑transmuted, misqualified aura record is visible to all. Those with heavy dark energy accounts get extra attention to help them build self‑discipline.
“They’re motivated to clear their energy,” he explains, “because it locks them out of certain community areas and events.”
“That sounds harsh,” Abby says. “Everyone sees their aura’s contamination and avoids them. No one hires them.”
“The aura simply reveals the truth,” Rev says. “That isn’t prejudice—it’s accountability. Everyone is responsible for their thoughts, feelings, and actions.
“Those with strong, virtuous energy are more attractive to employers.”
“Once a child sees a smoker wrapped in a huge ghostly worm sucking out his life force,” Evan says, “that child never wants to smoke.
“People with heavy dark energy have trouble finding jobs, friends, and homes. Others don’t want to be generous with them because they seem untrustworthy.
“Those who can’t control their negative thoughts and emotions aren’t trusted until they prove they’ve changed. Criminals and perverts aren’t allowed near children. Thought‑readers quietly warn others what the criminals are plotting.”
“That would be amazing,” Rev says. “Bad guys couldn’t hide. They’d look like walking whirlpools of dark corruption, hunting for victims.
“They’d be arrested and isolated until they learned to radiate divine thoughts and feelings.”
“Now you’re arresting people for their thoughts,” Diesel protests. “Is that even legal?”
“Graduate master‑beings would feel safe returning,” Evan says, “to walk among embodied souls who are training their talents.
“These master teachers serve as living examples, inspiring people to strengthen discipline and superpowers.
“Lack of mastery isn’t evil,” he adds. “It just shows undeveloped potential. Most souls in this world have at least some superpowers and use them wisely, because everyone knows what everyone else is doing.
“They don’t live in fantasy with made‑up beliefs and opinions. They’re aware of reality’s dual nature. Myths and illusions aren’t promoted or tolerated. False ideas are quickly exposed and corrected by those with intuition and discernment.”
“I see the advantage of mystic hindsight and foresight,” Abby says. “And clear observation. False beliefs would stand out instantly.”
“Souls still balance negative karma,” Evan says, “but most can sense it coming.
“They know how to transmute a lot of it before it hits, softening its impact. Soul students focus on the lessons they still haven’t mastered.
“They understand negative karma shows up as a last‑resort teacher for those who refuse gentler lessons. For prepared students, karma arrives as an opportunity. For the unprepared, it arrives as tragedy.”
“That gives everyone fair warning,” Rev says. “No one can pretend they didn’t know Soul School was real.”
“How do people know what they should do?” Abby asks.
“Souls understand their purpose,” Evan says. “They want to grow. Motivation comes from divine inspiration. Their goals line up with the universal divine plan.
“Advanced souls sponsor and protect students based on their merit,” he continues. “They’re like automatic parents to anyone less advanced—not out of ego, but responsibility.
“They simply have more power, wisdom, and virtue, so they naturally help deserving students grow.”
“Who does all the work?” Diesel asks. “No AI robots? Who builds houses and grows food?”
“More advanced souls can instantly create what they need,” Evan says. “They’re disciplined. They don’t let corruption or indulgent desires control them.
“They don’t create everything for others,” he adds, “because everyone must learn to use their own powers. Mystically rearranging atoms creates physical things and food.”
“Cosmic chemists,” Rev says. “Mystic alchemists.”
“No one keeps personal pets,” Evan says. “Harmless vegetarian elemental animals roam freely and are cared for by all. Harmful insects no longer exist.
“Souls control the weather together. Garbage doesn’t pile up—those with the skill mystically decompose it.”
“This sounds amazing,” Abby says. “I hope our teacher gives us an A+.”
“I’ll work on my mind‑control powers,” Diesel says. “Make her give us one.”
Evan stares at him. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”
He doesn’t say the rest out loud:
In a world where thoughts shape reality, mind control is not a joke.
It’s a clue.
And Crysticode 903 is starting to feel less like fiction—and more like a warning.
Evan, Rev, Abby, and Diesel brainstorm ideas for a high school group project about designing a Golden Age or utopian civilization. Their proposals range wildly from dystopian options like brain chips, global resets, holy spirit possession, and AI robot servants to more balanced concepts centered on independent soul self-development. When Diesel asks how to gain unlimited power, Evan warns him about the hidden prices of corrupted dark energy offered by figures like Sir Pent. Ultimately, the group outlines a futuristic utopian curriculum based on cosmic laws, mystic senses (such as foresight and aura reading), aura accountability, and spiritual discipline.
The danger of surrendering free will and human sovereignty to technology, AI, or spiritual possession
The contrast between unearned, corrupted dark energy (like a high-interest credit card) and pure mystic light earned through virtue
The necessity of self-mastery, discipline, and understanding cosmic laws in a true Golden Age society
The principle of aura accountability, where a person's inner spiritual state is visible to others, ensuring community safety and personal growth
Evan: A student who guides the group away from sci-fi horrors toward a model of independent soul self-development and cosmic law
Rev: A student who contributes ideas about super-brains, AI assistants, and mystic education
Abby: A student who initially considers religious shortcuts like holy spirit possession before embracing practical mystic community principles
Diesel: A skeptical student who pushes for tech upgrades, brain chips, and shortcuts to unlimited power
Sir Pent: A dark entity associated with corrupted chaos energy and easy-access power with a heavy hidden price