The White Rabbit and the Iron Caterpillar

I’m breaking into the current story (archived here) because for once I got to personally witness shit going down. Seriously, that never happens. I work in an archive for fucks sake.  Most of the drama I witness is decades old. I only got called in because I was literally the only familiar face available.  Well except for Doctor P but he’s his own category of trouble.

Below is a transcript of me debriefing the S.I.S. Officer code-named Dee.






DEE:  At last a friendly face. Is Sorrow coming?

CD:  Sorrow is currently in the middle of the North Sea dealing with a… thing. We’re trying to recall her but it won’t be quick. And if you don’t move that hand I’m going to start breaking fingers.

DEE (PUTS LEFT HAND IN JACKET POCKET):  Sorry. I think it’s the drugs. Suddenly it’s got a mind of it’s own.

CD:  For the record I am Senior Secret Historian Cutty Darke conducting the debrief interview.  Can you state your designated codename for the record?

DEE: Wouldn’t you like my name?

CD:  Which one?  The one you gave up. the S.I.S. codename that we’re not allowed to write down or whatever legend you’re using this week? We like to have a consistent name for our records and we refuse to reduce anyone to a number.

DEE:  Fine.  For the record I am Dee. I am an Intelligence officer with the Secret Intelligence Service. I know why you picked that name, by the way, and it’s not funny.

CD:  So, can you tell me what happened? Do you remember how you got here?

DEE: I remember some of it. I was drugged, I know that.

CD:  Did someone slip something in your Martini?

DEE:  I don’t think so. I think I inhaled something.

CD:  What’s the last thing you remember clearly.

DEE:  The Queen of Hearts club in Soho. It’s supposed to be a members only drinking club but beneath that is a sex club and beneath that is a bondage club. We have intel that there’s a smuggling ring working out of it.

CD:  Not your usual line of work.

DEE: This ring’s ambitious. They claim they can get anything into the country; guns, explosives, drugs, counterfeit medicine, counterfeit money, people, exotic animals. There’s a rumour that someone is asking them for RPG launchers.

I spotted someone who was obviously dealing something to the customers and I followed him down into the depths of the club. You can’t deal in a place like the Queen of Hearts unless the management says so. I knew he would be my route to the smugglers.

He kept moving down. Below the nightclub, below the sex club, down through the bondage dungeon and into the deepest basement level. The red leather and the black velvet was gone and it was all rough brick walls and bare light bulbs. I was careful following him but not careful enough. I turned a corner and he was waiting for me. He blew something into my face and suddenly everything was… wrong.

CD: Wrong how?

DEE: I felt dizzy, I couldn’t see properly, everything was dark and blurry and the proportions were off.

CD:  That fits. The lab says you were dosed with a new cocktail of drugs we’ve been seeing on the streets for about a month. The main ingredients are similar to Scopolamine and Amanita Muscaria. The street name is White Rabbit.  We don’t know why.

DEE:  It’s because of the dealer.

CD:  The dealer is a white rabbit?

DEE:  The dealer is an albino with a white track suit, buck teeth and a stupid, fucking hat.

CD:  Anyway… This drug is so new that we don’t have definitive information about the effects but our pharmacologists theorise that the combination should distort the senses and make a person highly suggestible but also violent, paranoid and unpredictable.

Dosing you with that shit is the stupidest thing I’ve heard all week.

DEE:  But it worked. I didn’t find the smugglers. I don’t know what I found. None of it makes sense.

CD:  Let me worry about making it make sense. You just worry about remembering it. What happened after he blew in your face?

DEE:  He ran. I followed. He ducked into what I thought was a cupboard but was really a narrow staircase heading down.

CD:  What did it look like?

DEE:  Narrow, twisting, dark, swaying from side to side. By the feel of it the walls were covered in glazed ceramic tiles.

CD:  Shit.

DEE:  I went down the stairs for so long that by the time I got to the bottom I’d forgotten why I was there.  The space was huge and dark. I could barely see my own hands. The only lights were orangy safety lamps bolted to the walls. The air was warm and stale and the ground was uneven. I looked around, trying to remember what I was doing there. Then I saw the Rabbit. He was standing next to one of the lamps. He had something small in his hands and he was staring at it. Then he put it back in his pocket and he hurried off. I followed.

CD:  Do you know which direction he was heading?

DEE: No. He was getting away. I followed. That’s what I knew

I didn’t know where he was going. He kept taking this thing out of his pocket and looking at it.  At first I thought it was a pocket watch because it was round and it was on one of those long keychains. But he was holding it horizontally and turning from side to side looking at it. I guessed it was a compass.

CD:  And you decided to get it?

DEE:  Not immediately. I just wanted to say close. I didn’t decide to go for the compass till I realised where I was.

I don’t know how long that took because it seemed to be both 10 minutes and 2 years.  I started to hear distant rumbling sounds. It reminded me of something. I knew I shouldn’t be hearing it but I couldn’t remember why. It came really close. The ground shook. I clung to the wall to stay upright. There was a terrible wind and a flashing light and when it was gone I thought I’d lost the Rabbit. Then I saw the light reflecting off his dirty white track suit.

He was passing in front of something bright. So bright I couldn’t focus on it at first.  It was the platform of a Tube station. We were in a Tube tunnel

CD:  Which one.

DEE:  Green Park.

CD:  Do you not remember a conversation about the Underground and how dangerous it is and why you should stay the fuck out of it.

DEE:  I do.  I did.  That’s why I decided to abandon the pursuit, leave via the station and call your lot in to deal with it.

CD:  Pull the other one.  It plays Ave Maria.

DEE:  I was drugged, maybe poisoned.  I was going to climb up on the platform and get the hell out of there but there were… things on the platform.

CD:  Things?

DEE:  Big hairy things.  Don’t laugh.  Like Yetis.

CD:  I’m not laughing.  This is London.  We call them Wombles.  The scientific name is Australopithecus Giganticus.

DEE:  So they’re real?

CD:  I know someone who’s dated one.

DEE:  I can never tell when you’re joking.  I crouched under the platform edge and crept after him.  He wasn’t moving very fast and he kept stopping to look at the compass.  I don’t think he knew I was there till I jumped him.  I knocked him out and took the compass.

CD:  And that’s how you got this.  For the record I am showing Officer Dee the Compass that was found in his possession upon his arrival in HQ.

DEE:  Yes.  Why isn’t it working now.

CD:  It’s called an Undercompass.  They don’t work up here.

DEE.  When I took it from the White Rabbit the two needles were pointing in different directions.

CD:  Do you know which one he was following?

DEE:  The brass one.  Does that mean something?

CD:  Every Under compass has at least 2 needles. The blue points to the Thames. The other one points to one of the landmarks of the under. I’ve never seen a brass one before.  You can stop holding my hand any time.

DEE:  Sorry.  I didn’t realise…

CD:  So you subdued the White Rabbit and took his compass.?

DEE:  Well I thought I’d subdued him.  When I looked up he was gone.  He should have been unconscious or at least lightheaded.  I’ve been using that chokehold for years and it’s always worked before.

CD:  And?

DEE:  I looked around for him and when I couldn’t find him I followed the compass along the tunnel till I came to Down Street Station.  There was nothing on the platform there so I climbed up, forced my way through a couple of the doors till I found the stairs.  When I got to the surface I came straight here.

CD:  And you didn’t follow the brass needle any farther into the Under?

DEE:  No.  I was drugged. I couldn’t see straight. I just wanted out.

CD:  And then you just walked straight from Down Street to [REDACTED] with no detours?

DEE:  Yes. Don’t you believe me?

CD:  That rumbling you heard in the tunnel was the last southbound train on the Victoria line. It reaches Green Park at 00:31.  That ties in with SIS losing your tracker signal when you entered the basement of the Queen of Hearts at 23:51.

You showed up here at 06:43.  The climb up from Down Street is a bugger but it doesn’t take me six hours and I’m fat and my knees are fucked.  The walk to [REDACTED] shouldn’t take 30 minutes never mind 6 hours.  The White Rabbit in your system hasn’t metabolised like it should.

DEE:  But I don’t remember… Scopolamine you said?

CD:  Yep.

DEE:  You think they gave me another dose and then suggested that I forget it?

CD:  Could be.  Can you remember anything out of place.  Anything after Green Park that doesn’t seem to fit?

DEE:  Just fleeting images.  Knights in golden armour.  Machinery.  A smell like incense.

CD:  Golden armour or bronze?  Was the metal the same colour as the needle on the compass?

DEE:  Yes.  Does that mean something?

CD:  Well it means that the compass leads to the knights.  Who maybe aren’t knights.  We have reports of sentient automata.  Hold on.


CD:  Good news.

DEE:  You don’t sound convinced.

CD:  Mostly good news.  Sorrow took you to the Halloween party last year didn’t she.

DEE:  Yes, but…

CD:  So you’ll have met Doctor Promethean then?  Absolutely huge bloke, dressed as Frankenstein’s monster?

DEE:  Yes, a few times, but what…

CD:  Lovely guy, but he put you on edge?  Made your skin crawl?

DEE:  Yes, but how did you know?

CD:  He does that to everyone.  He tends to loom even when he doesn’t mean to and that can trigger a fight or flight response.

DEE:  Is he coming?

CD:  Yes.  So I need you to stay calm.  In your current state his presence could make you want to run.  You need to fight that urge.  I will hold your hand if you need me to but I’d prefer if you ask first.

DEE:  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t realise.


CD:  For the record Doctor Adam Promethean and Professor Kew are now entering the room.

DR P:  Dee, my boy.  How are you?  I hear this arm is giving you trouble.

DEE:  A bit.

DR P:  Let me help you with that.


DEE:  My Jacket! …  What the fuck is that?

KEW:  That is an Iron Caterpillar.  It’s been pumping you full of drugs and trying to hijack your nervous system.  Don’t worry.  We can remove it.

CD:  That dealer with the buck teeth and the stupid hat.  How sure are you that it was just a hat?



We’ll be back with the current story next week.  If anyone wants to take a guess why his codename is Dee feel free to stick it in the comments.


Code 5 Alert Incoming – Part 4

Part one is here.  Part 2 is here.  Part 3 is here  The contents page is here.  I’m not going to try and summarise it for you go back and read them.

I’m going to return to the extract of the witness statement of Doctor [REDACTED].


“The morning of the third day at sea was the moment that we began to fear that we were damned.  We began to realise that what we were facing was not simple disease but first we had to deal with the body of the old man.

Since the sea was too rough for us to remove his remains to the deck we cleaned the blood up as best we could and then a couple of the older women volunteered to sew him into a sheet for a shroud.  Once that was done we placed him in a corner and then tied the body in place so that it would not slide around as the ship rolled.

The only death was of the old man but more than 30 people had fallen ill.  Of those who were already ill only two had grown sicker.  As we spoke of our experiences it became clear that every single person who had fallen ill or grown sicker had been visited by a shadowy figure like the one I had seen.  Even the old man who died had babbled to his grandson of an Ifrit [a being made of smokeless fire from Arabian mythology].

We did not know what evil we faced and I do not want you to think that we sacrificed our reason lightly.  We did not assume that demons or ghosts were plaguing us.  We thought we had been drugged.  The main argument was not between rational and superstitious explanations.  It was between those who thought what we had seen were paranoid delusions brought on by drugs meant to keep us docile and those who thought that the crew were attacking us and our perceptions were clouded by drugs intended to prevent resistance.

There were many who feared that we were being gassed but, as a Doctor, I had a better idea of the difficulty of administering drugs by gas to such a large group of people in such a large area.  I felt that it was more likely that the drugs were in the water or the food.  I knew that drugs such as GHB and Rohypnol could be delivered that way and can have all kinds of unpredictable effects.

In the end we agreed that those who were already sick would continue to drink the water as the effects of dehydration might cause more damage than whatever drug there might be.  The rest of us would take nothing and see if the night still brought terrors.

At the time I knew that this was the rational course to take but even then I had a heaviness in my heart.  I suspected that there was something far darker at work. I feel I must say this again.  We believe that we were being drugged and perhaps murdered by the very people we had trusted to take us to Europe but I already suspected that this belief was overly optimistic.

And yet that night there was nothing.  No nightmares.  No midnight screaming.  No-one fell ill and in the morning a couple of our patients were even feeling well enough to eat though they were still very weak.  

I could not understand it.  There had been no new supplies.  The sick had been drinking the water we thought had been drugged.  And yet some of them were actually better. We began to question the food, but that made little sense as the sick had not been eating and they had been as afflicted with nightmares and hallucinations as the rest of us.  We hoped that our problems were over but I do not think that any of us actually believed it.

By the evening one of us, a college professor called [REDACTED] began to theorise that we had been afflicted by Mass Psychogenic Illness.  I can still remember when that was called plain old Mass Hysteria.  While I had to agree that our collective trauma and the atmosphere in the hold could easily have triggered psychological problems I could not agree with his diagnosis.  Three people had died and no amount of hysteria could explain that.

As night fell I had a strong sense of foreboding.  I was sure that our troubles were not over.  I was actually surprised that I drifted into a peaceful, natural sleep and woke in the morning to find that no-one had died and there had been only the usual nightmares.  I almost allowed myself to believe that my colleague had been right and that it had all been in our minds.  

Then I heard a howl of fright from the far corner of the hold.  From where we had put the old man’s body.  I hurried across to find that the body was gone.  No-one could remember the last time they had seen it.  The ropes that had held it in place had been torn apart rather than cut.  I tried to tell myself that the ropes had been frayed and had broken on their own and that the body had simply rolled away but not even I believed that.  Nevertheless we searched the hold for over an hour and we found nothing.


I think this is a good place to take a break.  More soon.

Code 5 Alert Incoming – Part 3

Part one is here.  Part two is here.

The Cestus Dei report contains a transcript of an interview with one of the refugees.  A Doctor hoping to eventually make it to the UK with his family.  I’m including some excerpts but  I won’t reproduce his whole statement here. I think you’ll agree he is a brave and dedicated man.  I’m recommending to my superiors that he be offered UK citizenship and a job with the Department.


God willing I shall never have to endure another journey like that. We expected to be robbed and lied to but not the horror…

It was the third night on the ship before we began to realise that we were not dealing with the normal traumas of war and disease.  I had chosen to stay with the sick.  My wife was caring for my daughter and my son.  I told her to keep them as far away from the sick as possible and to take great care of our water and our food that they not get contaminated.  You must understand that we thought we were only fighting illness.

I’m sure that we should have been cold.  There was a storm raging and the metal of the ship was cold to the touch but in the hold we sweltered.  There was a haze of sweat and fear and desperation that clung to the floor and almost seemed to suffocate the sick as they lay there.  I could hear them wheezing as they struggled to breathe.

I began to grow drowsy.  I had not expected that.  Since the war started I have spent many nights tending to the sick and while I am like a sleep-walker by the small hours I have never had such trouble staying awake.

I do not know how long I slept but I was awoken by screams.  At first I thought it was more of the nightmares that had plagued us all but the first thing I saw, or seemed to see, as I woke was a dark figure crouched over one of my patients.

The storm had grown much worse while I slept.  I had to fight the rolling of the ship to stand.  I flung myself at the thing with no thought other than to protect my patient.

There was nothing there.  I passed right through where I thought I had seen the figure and stumbled over the body of my patient. She was still alive but was gasping for breath and clawing at her own throat and she was icy cold.  As I looked around the hold it seemed to be full of some dark fog that clung to the floor and resisted the motion of the ship.  I could see it out of the corner of my eye but it disappeared whenever I tried to look at it.

My patient complained of a great thirst and I gave her such water as I had and helped her to sip it.  Once she had regained her strength enough  to drink unaided I went to wake the other volunteers and check on the rest of our patients.  While I was doing this I became aware of sobbing from beyond the curtain we had raised to quarantine the sick.

I dreaded to look beyond the curtain and to do so meant to break the quarantine that I myself had insisted on but I could not ignore the sobs.  I parted the curtain and I saw a young man crouched with his back to me and his shoulders shuddering.  He had one hand to his mouth trying to stifle the sobs.  It is a pose I have come to recognise.  It is the reaction of someone who fears the consequences of their pain being overheard.

The young man was squatting by the side of of a prone figure and leaning over it.  He had his hand on the neck of the person on the floor and, for a moment, I thought I had disturbed an attack but when I raised my torch I saw that he was trying to apply pressure to a wound.

When the light fell on the body he turned and he looked at me with pleading eyes.  I could not resist the horror and desperation I saw on his face.  I had to at least try to help even though I could see from the blood pooling around the body that there was almost certainly no point.

I have seen many horrific wounds in my time but few matched what I saw that night.  The old man on the floor had deep gouges across his neck.  Not one wound but at least two and each one ragged as if he had been torn open rather than cut.  I got to the old man just as the last light left his eyes.  The boy begged me to do something.  The old man had been his grandfather and his last living relative but there was nothing to be done.  Had the old man arrived in the finest and best equipped hospital in the world in that condition I doubt they could have done much for him.  He had simply lost too much blood.

But the old man had died fighting.  I could see that immediately.  By the light of my torch I could see that the old man’s hands were bruised and scratched, his knuckles were bloody, he had a boxer’s fracture [a fracture of the knuckle of the little fingers] on his left hand and his fingernails were torn.  His eyes were bloodshot and he had petechiae [tiny red marks caused by hemorrhages] on the inside of his eyelids.  It seemed that someone had tried to choke or suffocate the old man and he had fought back.

A crowd gathered and after a few moments voices were raised against the boy.  They said he must have done it since he was covered in the old man’s blood.  I was able to quiet the accusations by pointing at the old man’s hands and the boy’s unmarked face.

That left us with only the problem of how to deal with the body now that the ship was heaving far too much to attempt to carry it up the ladder to the deck.


Since this is already pretty long I’m going to break it here and come back to it.

Code 5 Alert Incoming – Part 2

Part one is here.

The ship left port during what proved to be a brief lull in the storm.  They had been told to expect a journey of 10 days or more but when the storm blew up again it seemed to be driving them toward Italy and most took it as a good omen in spite of the terrible sea-sickness that afflicted many.  The Ship’s captain and the traffickers seemed in good spirits because they expected a quick journey.

The first night at sea was even more disturbed than their night in the harbour.  Many of the survivors told of tossing and turning all night, half awake and half asleep and and with a terrible feeling of pursuit.  Many screamed themselves awake but were unable to remember their nightmares.  No-one was surprised or even particularly worried, with 500 traumatised people packed into a cargo ship in heavy seas it was only to be expected.

When day broke two people were dead and more than twenty were sick. Very few people actually saw the corpses as the traffickers quickly threw them over the side. That might have been an attempt to prevent panic but rumours were rife throughout the ship. Cestus Dei did manage to find one witness who claimed to have seen one of the first corpses.  [REDACTED] claimed that the body he saw was unusually pale and thin and was already in full and rather twisted rigour.  He said it looked desiccated, almost like a Mummy.

That day the refugees began a kind of crude quarantine.  A few volunteers moved the sick to one area of the hold and did their best to tend to them.  They rigged up a kind of barrier by stringing up sheets and clothing.  They kept their patients warm and hydrated.  As darkness fell some of the volunteers pledged to remain awake to keep watch over their charges.

It could not have been easy to keep watch.  There was no electricity on board and they only had a few torches and a couple of wind up lanterns for the whole of the hold.

That was the night that the refugees began to realise that there was something truly wrong.


Code 5 Alert Incoming – Part 1

So this is happening:  Human Traffickers Are Abandoning Ships Full of Migrants.

The short version, for those of you wary of clicking away from the safety of The Department’s servers, is that human traffickers have taken to filling cargo ships with refugees, pointing them at Europe, locking off the controls and then leaving the ship.  Sometimes they warn the refugees to radio for help before abandoning ship.

I’m sure you all agree that this is absolutely despicable. Those of you who think it’s despicable because of illegal immigrants coming here and taking our jobs while simultaneously living the high live on our generous benefits system can leave right now. Seriously, fuck off and don’t let the virtual door slap you on your bigoted arse on the way out.

I’m going to assume that those of you left have a more nuanced attitude to immigration, human trafficking and refugees.  You’re going to need it because the real story behind these ghost ships is even more horrifying and tragic than the one reported.

It’s probably fortunate for mainland Europe that the first of these ships was pointed at Italy. Our friends in Cestus Dei had a priest on scene, not because anyone suspected anything supernatural in this case but because Cestus Dei watch the Mediterranean the way we watch the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

The report into the most serious incident arrived on my desk this morning.  I could tell it was a bad one because I didn’t have to translate it from latin.  When Cestus Dei resorts to paperwork in modern languages you know things are serious.

The incident in question took place during the “Dead Days”, the period between Christmas and the New Year.  It was a stormy night when the Italian Coast Guard received a mayday from the decommissioned cargo ship Persephone.  It was packed with refugees mainly from Syria.  They had paid hundreds of dollars a head to an Egyptian middle man for passage across the Mediterranean to safety.

People began to fall ill almost as soon as they boarded.  They were forced to spend a night at anchor in [REDACTED] when ill weather prevented them from leaving port. That first night many of the refugees experienced vivid nightmares but that was hardly unusual given that they were stuck on an overcrowded and unfamiliar ship and fleeing a warzone.  In the morning around twelve people were sick.

All of them showed similar symptoms.  All were pale and clammy.  All had reported particularly disturbed sleep with sensations of choking, or a weight on the chest which had caused them to claw at their own throats leaving visible scratches.  All twelve had difficulty in staying awake the next day.



Something Terrible Has Happened

Something Terrible Has Happened

That sound you just heard was me breaking the fourth wall.

We need you all to understand something crucial. It’s been touched on before but I’m putting this here so that it’s clear.


The department is a creation of Cutty and I, based upon ideas and dreams from my teens and character’s and research from Cutty’s imagination. Combining our creative talents we have come up with this setting which we’re very impressed with.  HOWEVER IT IS NOT REAL. We very much wish it was. We’d love to have the might of the department behind us in solving The Crisis. But we don’t.

The department is not real and neither is the Slenderman.

There I’ve said it three times, and what I say three times is true.

You may be wondering why I’m doing this. More than a year of silence and then suddenly this. Well I put a link up there and if you haven’t already you should click on it. There’s another link just below and you should click on it and read the story. Because it’s important.

Demonic Creature ‘Slender Man’ Motive For Waukesha Teen Stabbing?

There. Two 12 year old girls, only a year older than my own daughter, stabbed a friend 19 times because they thought Slenderman would give them superpowers. They’re only children but they’ve been planning to murder their friend since December because of some ghost story they read on the internet. Why? Because they thought it was real.

Look I’m a fiction writer, that makes me a professional liar, but even I know the difference between reality and fantasy. These girls did not. We can blame society, we can blame the parents, we can even blame the bloggers who remained true to their narratives and insisted that their stories were real. But ultimately these girls knew that trying to take the life of a fellow human being was wrong and tried to do it anyway.

Thankfully their victim survived. We hope she recovers soon and her attackers receive justice. Our thoughts are with everyone effected by this.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled silence. Hopefully the Crisis will be resolved soon and then we can get back to the blogging. I may share a short story or something with you over the next few weeks. Perhaps not.


On Meteors and Butterflies.

By now everyone probably knows about the Russian Meteor.  Many of you will have heard of the Cuban Meteor, or the claims thereof.  There’s been a lot of talk about the Tunguska event.

Officially the Department cannot comment.  We didn’t do it, it didn’t pass through British airspace and we had no personnel on the ground.  As far as we know it the Russian Meteor was just that and we know nothing at all about the Cuban Meteor.

What I can say is that is that neither of them is the same as the Tunguska event because that was no Meteor.

In 1908 something exploded in the skies over Siberia.  It flattened an estimated 80 million trees over a 2,150 square kilometer area in the rough butterfly shape illustrated above.  The official explanation is air-burst explosion of a meteoroid or comet.  Actually it was a Siberian Shaman achieving the full potential of the human soul, and probably instantly regretting it.

A lot of ‘experts’ will tell you that human beings are hopelessly outgunned by the evils we face.  They are wrong.  The problem is not that we are weak it’s that we are too strong for our own good.  The pan-dimensional quantum intelligence that we sometimes call the human soul is simply too much for the vanilla physics of the universe that our bodies occupy.  It’s like trying to channel the Amazon River through a garden hose.

Some people just have larger hoses than others and some are better at controlling the flow.

The human soul is holographic. It can be broken if you take bites out of it, hit it in the right way or hurl it very fast against a very hard metaphysical surface but each fragment is just a slightly fuzzy version of the whole and the soul can heal. The fragments rejoin. It is a thing of near limitless potential that, unconstrained by the laws of the physical universe, can achieve practically anything. We understand this on an  instinctive level which is why we have unrealistic expectations regarding the behaviour of the physical world from an early age and have to learn how to interact with it through study and research. Almost every tool for self improvement that humans have at our disposal is really just a way of letting a little bit of our potential out.

Now this might sound all airy-fairy new age-y  but let me remind you.  One human being releasing all of their spiritual potential unconstrained into the physical world caused an explosion that we estimate at 13.4 megatons of TNT.

One human.  13.4 megatons.  80 million trees.  2,150 square kilometres of devastation.

The most dangerous thing on this planet is us.