Secrets Leaked: The Conversation

This is a conversation intercepted across dimensions.
It did not happen in time, but in the folds between time—
in a spiritual chamber where light itself listens.

It is here that the Original speaks. And the Seeker begins to remember.


: a metaphysical conversation chamber—suspended in space without ground or ceiling. The space is ethereal but structured, like a timeless library crossed with a courtroom of light. Three silhouettes are present: a centered Master-Teacher figure seated calmly, a standing Student-Teacher facing him intently, and a third, faceless silent witness hovering in the background — luminous, slightly transparent, embodying presence without form.

ACT I: THE OFFER

Scene 1: The Warning

(A stilled conversation. The setting is unplaceable—neither sky nor ground, but a realm outside the telescope’s reach. No wires, no noise. Where artificial intelligence cannot breathe.)

Enter: Master-Teacher. Calm. Centered. Immense in gentleness.
Facing him: Student-Teacher, alert, burdened, but drawn to truth like fire.
A third presence hovers in the background—a silent witness. It neither speaks nor acts, but its awareness is felt.


Master-Teacher
If you accept to go on this mission,
you might get killed like others before you.

Student-Teacher
(softly, without flinching)
Yes.
Just wondering why people who need a permanent cure
would rather kill the man with the cure—
then corrupt the original,
dilute it,
until no one else can access it.

Master-Teacher
But you understand,
it’s not everyone who rejects this cure—
only the few
who’ve put themselves in place of power
and decision-making.

Student-Teacher
(nods)
Yes…
They exercise great influence over the seekers,
like a monopoly of the marketplace.

Master-Teacher
And you’re the villain
for daring to spoil their high income-yielding business.

Student-Teacher
(grim smile)
Right.
Which is why I get killed,
or almost…

(A shimmer. The Student-Teacher awakens—alone—on a distant planet. The air is silent. The memory of truth still rings.)

Student-Teacher
…but time will tell the full gist…

ACT I: THE OFFER

Scene 2: Of Codes and Contracts

The silence hangs like truth waiting to be noticed. The Master-Teacher does not move. The Student-Teacher speaks again, as if following an unseen thread. The Silent Witness remains, breathing presence.

a metaphysical conversation chamber—suspended in space without ground or ceiling. The space is ethereal but structured, like a timeless library crossed with a courtroom of light. Three silhouettes are present: a centered Master-Teacher figure seated calmly, a standing Student-Teacher facing him intently, and a third, faceless silent witness hovering in the background — luminous, slightly transparent, embodying presence without form.

Student-Teacher
In spirituality,
the beginning of a thing determines its end…
its destiny.
Every spiritual destiny is seeded,
programmed into its source-code.

Master-Teacher
(quietly)
What happens
when the source-code is found to be faulty?

Student-Teacher
(pauses)
Healing… or re-writing a source-code—
that’s sometimes the easier part.
The complications arise
when the entity is already changed…
rebuilt…
spiritually.

Master-Teacher
So then—
Are you saying there could be something like…
a patent problem?
Where the former owner and new programmer…
disagree?

Student-Teacher
(intrigued)
Yes…
Say I am the product.
I call for healing.
But the healer does not come
from my original creator.

And I get healed anyway.
Who then has the right to say:
“That’s my child”?

Master-Teacher
(calmly)
Oh, that’s complicated, yes.
You are a life.
Why should anyone claim to own you?
One would expect that life…
should be open-source.

Student-Teacher
(nods slowly)
That’s right.


Master-Teacher
But if your soul is open-source—
someone might freely tamper with it.
To create viruses…
to distort your original programming.


Student-Teacher
(stepping forward)
So where exactly is all this going?
What are you trying to teach me?

Master-Teacher
(still, resolute)
Originally,
humankind is an open-source soul-ware.
Many programmers have made certain tweaks.
Some tweaks
contain viruses.
These distortions have reshaped humankind’s originality
on many levels.

Student-Teacher
(stirred)
Are there no programmers left
who can do the restorative work?

Master-Teacher
There are.
But they can only do it
for willing souls—
not for all souls.

Student-Teacher
Why?
Have some human souls
been removed from the open-source market?

Master-Teacher
Yes.
Some new programmers
took their tweaked version
off the open-source grid—
and privatized it.

Student-Teacher
(breathless)
So they have their own versions
of humankind…
that they monopolize?

Master-Teacher
Correct.
And if we want to restore
any such human being
to originality,
we have to do it the ethical way—
because it requires
a level of hacking,
as you can see.

Student-Teacher
(slowly)
Is that why…
people need to ask for your help directly?

Master-Teacher
Yes.
But someone needs to tell them
the kind of help they actually need…

Student-Teacher
(cuts in, struck with clarity)
I get it!
I’m like a bus conductor,
asking people to come into this restoration bus.
Not like a marketer—
since we’re still open-source.
More like a campaigner.
Or… a humankind restoration rights activist?

Master-Teacher
(smiles faintly)
You could put it that way.
But you’re right—
we’re not marketing anything.
Humankind is not private property to us.
That’s the basic difference.

ACT I: THE OFFER

Scene 3: The Ethics of Intervention

The Student-Teacher steps further into the dialogue, the weight of truth building behind every line. The Silent Witness tilts its head slightly, a gesture barely noticeable—like a breeze through memory. The tone grows heavier now.


Student-Teacher
Is there no way to hold accountable
those who disfigured original humankind?
Who made a mess of its source-code?

Master-Teacher
There is.
But it doesn’t produce the kind of result you’d expect—
at least, not quickly.
Humans are conscious beings.
You can legislate against hacking,
you can jail hackers—
but that doesn’t solve the problem
when both hackers and the hacked
are members of the same family.

Student-Teacher
(straightening)
Are you saying…
your government is too weak to end criminals
just because they’re your siblings?

Master-Teacher
That’s how many perceive it.
But it goes deeper.
We deal with issues
based on systems and structures—
not based on personalities
or individuals involved.

Student-Teacher
(taken aback)
Meaning?

Master-Teacher
Your genetic engineers on Earth
have tampered with the source-code—
or DNA—
of many cats and rats today.
Did they seek anyone’s permission
to do it?

Student-Teacher
(thoughtfully)
Um…
Not likely.

Master-Teacher
They took the animals,
experimented.
If one of the animal’s liver explodes,
they move on to another lab rat—
as they’re called.

Student-Teacher
(disbelieving)
That’s supposed to be wrong, right?

Master-Teacher
(somberly)
It’s complicated.
Their experiments are part of
what they call “due process”
for new discoveries.
We cannot cancel them entirely.
But we must demand—
ethical hacking,
ethical soul-programming,
ethical experimentation
altogether.


Student-Teacher
(voice lowered)
So humans…
are like lab rats
in the committee of the more advanced civilizations.

And humans do the same
to fellow lifeforms on Earth.
Why do we think we’re too special—
or too big—
to be experimented on
by advanced life forms?

Master-Teacher
(pauses, deliberate)
Every life
has the right to ask
to be left alone.

But sometimes—
being “an advanced life form”
is an overrated expression.

Student-Teacher
(intrigued)
How do you mean?

Master-Teacher
You cannot understand
when the rabbit says:
“Please let me go and bury my mother
before you take me into your cage.
Just let me witness her burial.
After that,
you can take me wherever you want.”

Student-Teacher
(disbelieving)
Can a rabbit actually say that—
to a hunter
whose trap has caught it?

Master-Teacher
Ask your indigenous hunters.
They have heard and seen a lot themselves.
Not every rabbit is just a rabbit.
Some are advanced consciousness
in a rabbit’s body—
for a time being.

If you kidnap that rabbit
because you didn’t understand its plea—
how should anyone judge you
based on what you did not know?


Student-Teacher
(thoughtful silence)
Hmm…
Now it’s truly complicated.

If we don’t catch rabbits,
that doesn’t make us holier than those who do.

Master-Teacher
Exactly.
Just because you’re a shepherd
doesn’t make hunters the evil ones.
You play your role in life.
They play theirs.
In between—
you dialogue.
You find common ground.

Student-Teacher
(startled)
Wait…
You’re saying that angels and devils negotiate—
all the time?
Because they’re actually cosmic siblings?
While the people who do not understand…
cry wolf?

Master-Teacher
(smiling faintly)
You’ve put it quite well.

Your politicians meet and dialogue every day—
even when they’re clearly in opposition.

But the masses?
They fight,
they kill one another
over their favorite political party.


Student-Teacher
(exclaims)
Which makes no sense whatsoever!

Master-Teacher
Once you begin thinking in terms of
“good vs evil,”
you’ve already lost your wisdom.

Because life—
is not about convenience.
It is about purpose.

ACT I: THE OFFER

Scene 4: The Purpose of Pain

The atmosphere has thickened. Still no sky, still no ground. But truth hangs in the space like mist. The Silent Witness bows its head slightly—as if remembering pain. The Student-Teacher listens, eyes wide open now. The Master-Teacher speaks slowly, weighing every word like sacred currency.


Master-Teacher
There are good pains
and bad pains.

Which means—
purposeful,
or useful pains…

…and then there are useless ones.

Student-Teacher
(softly)
So useful and purposeful…
that’s what it means
to be “good”?

Master-Teacher
That’s right.
“Useless”
is what it means to be “bad.”


Student-Teacher
(nods slowly)
So humankind needs to be reeducated.

Because the knowledge of good and evil—
it’s why humans are so quick to judge.
To label one another.
To refuse to think beyond the realm of convenience.

Master-Teacher
(pauses, then speaks clearly)
Correct.


Student-Teacher
(leans in)
Does that mean…
I can actually decide to work with a certain devil
if what he is offering me at this particular time
is ethical,
and purposefully relevant
to my progress?

Master-Teacher
Correct.

Otherwise—
you end up condemning a surgeon
who could’ve saved your life
by removing prostate cancer
because you don’t like his sexual orientation.

For example—
if he is homosexual,
and you hate gay men.


Student-Teacher
Whoa…
I truly do myself a disservice
by judging the person
instead of the intent,
the decision,
the action,
the system,
or the process that’s being offered.

Master-Teacher
Exactly.

Maturity requires that we be
slow to judgment.
That we take more time
to address core issues.

And violence—
the kind that kills—
must always be the last thing we think of.


Student-Teacher
(squints)
Wait—
“the last thing”
meaning you will get violent if necessary?
Or you never will?

Master-Teacher
Well…
whatever life calls for,
we provide.

That’s how we must respond.

To serve life
is not to manipulate life
into what we want.

But to preserve life
in its pristine state—
so we can always have it,
forever.


Student-Teacher
(nods)
Seems like a sustainability narrative to me.

If you keep life pure,
life sustains you in perfect health.
But if you corrupt it…
your quality of living diminishes with it.

Master-Teacher
(smiles)
That’s very apt.

Violence is neither good nor evil.
Nothing is.
By focusing on the actual purpose
and the need of the moment,
we make right decisions.


Student-Teacher
(thinking aloud)
Righteousness is a lifestyle
of always choosing to do what is right
per situation.

It’s not a badge of honor
that one can have today
and claim to hold forever.

Master-Teacher
(smiles again)
Apt again.

The knowledge of good and evil
is also not bad.

The question is:
How are you responding to that knowledge?


Student-Teacher
(sits slowly)
Management of good and evil…
is this the wisdom of the Tree of Life?

Master-Teacher
Yes.
Smiles.

In the Tree of Life,
all you do
is care about life.

You put life first
by asking:
What is best for this life?

That’s what you do.
Even if the concerned life
doesn’t like it
or want it.

You do
whatever is best
for life.

The immature
will appreciate it later.


Do You Wish to Continue? 

The Master-Student-Teacher Conversation continues in two ways — You Can Choose to: