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out of Ravenette’s loft, but I was actually a bit alarmed. When I was maybe nineteen, I had sat through an “Introduction to Awareness” session that one of my friends had taken me to at an Awareness Center in downtown San Francisco and I vividly remembered their fondness for blue banners, brochures printed on blue paper, even blue clothes—though judging by Ravenette’s fashionable black pencil skirt and satiny silver blouse, perhaps they had eased up on that particular rule of the road. I also remembered that even back in those years, the Blue Awareness had seemed a little crazy to me—which was really saying something, because, at the time, I had not been exactly the most stable person myself. If I remembered the general outlines of their ideas correctly, they believed that we, the human race, had forgotten our true nature. We thought we were just higher-order animals that had evolved from lower forms, but that wasn’t the case. We were, in fact, descendants of an alien race who had traveled to this planet for purposes that were only revealed to those who had attained the highest levels of Awareness. You had to pay increasingly escalating fees as you progressed through the levels, and as you did, you were also granted access to the different centers and retreats they had established around the country. If all this sounded like the basis of a science fiction story rather than the spiritual movement that the Blue Awareness claimed to be, there was a reason for that: the group had been founded by a man named Howard Gilmartin, who was a not-very-successful author of science fiction tales before he became the revered mentor of the Blue Awareness devotees. When I had first encountered them, they already had a substantial number of followers, but in the ensuing decades, the movement had become popular abroad and total membership had risen into the millions, or so they said. I came across articles about them from time to time, or saw some movie star talk about them on TV, since the Blue Awareness had become the religion du jour with celebrities. But there also had been a number of exposés written about the group, accusing it of being a well-funded cult that practiced and promoted violence against anyone who left them. They also, apparently, refused to admit that Howard Gilmartin had died some fifteen years ago, though his son, Raymond, was recognized as the titular head of the Blue Awareness. I had thought they were creepy at the “Introduction” meeting and had never gone back; after this session with Ravenette, I thought they were even more creepy.
    I turned to walk back to the elevator, but as I did, Ravenette said, “I’m at the Second Level of Awareness. If you know anything about the movement, you know that’s a rare achievement.”
    I actually knew nothing about how the Blue Awareness divided up the levels of esoteric knowledge they supposedly imparted to their followers, but I could imagine that if First Level was the be-all and end-all of Awareness, then being Second Level was probably a big deal.
    “Well, I’m sure you’re very proud of yourself,” I said. “But I’m still leaving.”
    “Why did you come at all?”
    I decided I’d reply with Jack Shepherd’s quip. “You’re the psychic,” I said. “You tell me.”
    That didn’t go over very well. Ravenette narrowed her green eyes and said, “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You’ve stepped into the Wild Blue Yonder and you don’t even know it.”
    “You’re right about one thing. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    She continued as if she hadn’t even heard me. “No one can be exposed to the knowledge in the Wild Blue Yonder without the proper preparation. But at some point in your life, you were somehow exposed to elements of that knowledge and it was too much for your spirit to deal with—which explains why you created the engram. That shadow man. And it’s blocked your path, it’s kept you stuck at the