Chapter Twenty-Seven

Assange’s days at the Ecuadorian embassy were accumulating. He had always liked London, a city of the ages that held so much history and so many secrets. Life was still stressful, and his room in the embassy was not much of a sanctuary, but he was grateful for it, especially since the U.S. had just upgraded his status to ‘enemy of the state.’ On a promotional note, Lady Gaga stopped by the week before, and regardless of what the gossip columns and tabloids were saying about them, people were talking…and that was good.

He didn’t hear a knock at his door, but he knew someone was there. He looked around, wondering how he came to that conclusion. Incredulous, he finally asked, “who is it?”

“I’m a friend,” said a voice he had never heard before. Assange could be a nervous nelly, but he didn’t feel any fear. He opened the door. The elderly man standing in front of him glowed with soft light. His hair was white and his smile was genuine. “My name is Michael Quinsey, and I’d like to speak with you.”

“Hello Michael, I guess you know me,” said Assange, “who are you?”

“I am what some call a light worker, and I’ve seen some interesting things that concern you.”

Assange fought the temptation to roll his eyes. “I see.”

“You do,” replied Michael, “and you will. Part of my work is thru channeling, and I’d like to share with you what I’ve been learning.”

“You channel spirits?” asked Assange.

“Some call them spirits, some call them the ancients…I prefer ‘celestial sources’.” Michael continued, “there is plenty of science on the matter, but I’d rather show you first hand to prove it.”

Assange grinned. He could tell something was up, and it felt authentic. His instincts tingled, without risk, there is no gain. “Alright. How should we begin?”

Michael pulled up a chair in the cramped office. “Sit here and empty your mind of any outside influence. I’ll sit across from you, and I’m going to let SaLuSa, a source, reveal some things.”

Assange sat down and relaxed. He immediately felt safe, and Michael began channeling.

“Julian Assange, I am SaLuSa. I see your motive, and it is pure. You are an inspiration, and your work is changing the world. Your light is similar to your brother, President Obama, who is also a soul of immense light under great stress from the dark Ones, giving his services without thought for self.”

Assange’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean by ‘my brother’?”

Michael smiled and SaLuSa continued, “you and Obama are brothers working together to oust the dark Ones from power. Your conversations are changing the course of history, and the world is following your example.”

Assange felt heat spreading thru his body. Could this guy really have seen them talking?

“Yes, I enjoy your conversations,” replied SaLuSa, as if he heard him, “and I will be there when you do so again.”

“How can you see us?” asked Assange, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

“I can see anything I focus on, including your martyr and friend Bradley Manning, but you have no need to worry. I am here to further Love and nothing else. Whether you know it or not, you and Obama are highly spiritual souls, who with our help and protection will speedily transform the world’s experiences into ones of happiness and release mankind from the draconian laws that rule your lives.”

Assange was hit with a wave of emotion. He almost began crying. “You know this?”

“There are days to come when at a single stroke the U.S. President shall astound his critics by the changes he will authorize. No President of late has been one specifically chosen by the people, and therefore his decisions will reflect that aspect of his appointment…and you will live to see it.”

“Thank you SaLuSa,” replied Assange, clearly shaken, but energized.

Michael abruptly stood, his trance apparently ended. He embraced Assange and stared deep into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Karl Rove sat deep inside the Pentagon next to the aide showing him the surveillance tapes of the Ecuadorian embassy. “No, thank YOU.”