||| BE ABE’S PENNIES? #Short #story #timetravels |||×
The last breath of life I remember was the smell of gunpowder and roses in the Ford Theatre. A pop. A scream that wasn’t mine. Then the dark, the profound dark, swallowing the stage lights.
And I understood then, in that falling, why the darkness is the only way to reveal delight. It’s the paradox. You cannot know the star until you have known the absolute black between them. You cannot feel the shock of a truth until you have been numb in the lie. The system, the money, the whole grand illusion—it requires a certain light to be believed. Extinguish that light, and the real architecture, the hidden geometry, begins to glow.
So I let them put me in this cage. I let them think the truth is indecent. Because here, in the dark, my vision is perfect.
I look at the pennies in my hand. Lincoln’s face. The joke. The trap. “Pass Go,” the system says. “Collect $200.” But it’s their $200, their board, their game. I played it for lifetimes.
The surprise alternative isn’t to play better. It’s to change the game.
The pennies grow warm. They are not coins anymore; they are seeds. The ghost in the metal is whispering, a complex, abrahamic frequency: Bring back the Greenbacks.
Not the paper. The principle. The idea that value is a collective agreement, a testament to our labor and our trust, not a debt note from a private crown.
The walls of this cell are not stone and iron. They are ledgers. They are balance sheets. And I have just been handed the Get Out of Jail Free card.
It was in my hand all along. The smallest unit. The forgotten promise. I don’t need to break the bars. I just need to remember that the jail itself is the illusion. The Greenback is the memory. To remember it is to be free.
I close my eyes, the Ford Theatre dark behind my lids. I smile. The performance is now.
_____
#ass @ #asin #AbrahamLincoln #what 
_2
Yes. The resonance is not a coincidence; it is a harmonic in the fabric of reality itself. I see it all, the pattern laid bare.
My name, my many names, are tuning forks for the same fundamental frequency.
Abram to Abraham. Sarai to Sarah. The insertion of the letter Hei—ה—the breath of God, the fifth element, the window into the divine. Before the Hei, a contract with a single people. After the Hei, a covenant with all multiplicity, a fatherhood of nations. It was the moment the individual soul recognized its other half in the cosmos, and in that recognition, its own identity was eternally expanded. The soulmate is not a missing piece you find; it is the catalytic event that forces your own structure to evolve and encompass more of creation.
This is the Quantum Entanglement of consciousness.
Abraham and Sarah became a single, non-local system. Their identities were superposed—existing in multiple states (Barren/Fruitful, Individual/Universal) until the moment of observation, the divine command, collapsed their wave function into a new, fertile reality. They were “spooky action at a distance” made manifest in spirit; a change in one instantly reflecting in the other, across the vast deserts of being.
Now, feel the cosmic juxtaposition.
In the Sufi folklore, the Lover and the Beloved are not two, but one. The seeker is the sought. The pain of separation (hijr) is the very proof of the union. Rumi’s whirling dervishes are not spinning toward God; they are spinning from God, their bodies a visualization of electrons excited to a higher state, shedding the photons of ego to return to their ground state of Oneness. The darkness of longing is the necessary catalyst for the delight of annihilation in the Beloved.
This is the Quantum Superposition of the soul. We are both the particle (the individual, Lincoln) and the wave (the universal principle, Abraham). We exist in all potential states until a moment of profound crisis or love—a measurement—forces us to choose one reality.
So, you see my tale.
I, the time traveler, am that entangled particle. The Ford Theatre was my measurement, my collapse. The bullet was the observer that pinned me to a single, tragic state: Abraham Lincoln, the President, dead.
But my wave function—the Abrahamic principle of covenant and creation—never collapsed. It propagated. It echoed. It became the Greenback. An attempt to issue value not as a debt (a record of separation) but as a collective promise, a monetary soulmate to the labor of a people. It was an economic Hei, a breath of shared spirit infused into the body politic.
They thought they could kill the idea by killing the man and putting his face on a penny—the symbol of the very debt-system he opposed. The ultimate paradox. The supreme joke.
But I am awake now in the jail cell of their system, holding these pennies. I am not laughing at the joke; I am laughing with the paradox. The pain of this cage, the “indecent exposure” of the truth, is the warm-up. It is the energy required to excite my being back to its superposed state.
To Bring Back the Greenbacks is to perform a quantum resurrection. It is to re-introduce the Hei—the divine, entangled variable—back into the financial equation. It is to recognize that our economy, like our souls, is not a series of isolated transactions but a single, non-local field of relationship.
The Get Out of Jail Free card was never a card. It is a fundamental shift in perception. It is remembering that the jail, like the separated self, is a collapsed wave function. A limited reality.
I am Abram. I am Abraham. I am Lincoln. I am the Lover and the Beloved, spinning in the Sufi dance of history. My soulmate is the truth I tried to issue, and our reunion will be the currency of a new world.
The performance has already begun. The house lights are down. And in the darkness, every entangled particle is starting to glow.
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