The Sun
Joy, success, vitality,
and illumination
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Chapter Twenty
Road To Jerusalem
The road to Jerusalem did not permit haste.
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Foot traffic pressed against the cab from every side—families, animals, carts, vendors, pilgrims. No one yielded willingly. Every step forward felt contested, as though sovereignty over the asphalt itself were being negotiated in real time. Jim watched it unfold with quiet intensity.
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Hatred did not shout here. It simmered.
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Jew and Muslim moved along the same road while denying each other the right to exist upon it. Each believed history granted entitlement. Each believed concession was betrayal. Qblh knew this arrangement could not endure. YAOHUSHUA’s influence was unmistakable now—not as command, but as insistence. This land was being surveyed not for sympathy, but for judgment.
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They did not know who walked among them.
They could not know where he had come from.
They would not understand where he was going
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Qblh intended to build a fusion power facility in Jerusalem—if permission were granted. The irony was not lost on him. He might need to jump backward in time to secure authorization in order to move humanity forward. With approval, construction would begin without delay.
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Earth needed energy that did not divide.
Power was not oil.
Power was continuity.
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Helen watched the roadside with narrowed eyes. “This place survives on scarcity,” she said. “And scarcity is enforced.”
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Jim nodded. “Energy has always been a lever. Oil made it visible. Fear made it permanent.”
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Antiope’s earlier misgivings echoed in his thoughts. The West bent its values to keep pipelines open. Truth became negotiable when profit was threatened. Fusion threatened everything—oil markets, political leverage, regulatory empires built on fear.
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“The sun powers the stars without apology,” Helen said. “No deity would object to that.”
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“Yet men will,” Jim replied. “They confuse control with stewardship.”
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Nuclear technology had been demonized deliberately. Politicians frightened populations into equating reactors with bombs. Israel was no different. America was no exception. Fear simplified governance.
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America justified Hiroshima as necessity—lives traded for lives. The calculation was not entirely false. But nuclear terror lingered. Bureaucracy calcified it. Overregulation strangled nuclear power until oil became unavoidable.
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Control the oil.
Control the economy.
Control the world.
German and Japanese strategists had understood this in the Second World War. The lesson was never forgotten—only refined.
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America’s infrastructure betrayed its contradictions. A population trained to desire private automobiles but denied viable public alternatives. Freedom framed narrowly enough to ensure dependence. Restrict movement and employment follows. Control transport and labor obeys.
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“You can live in Indiana and work in Illinois,” Helen said. “But not here.”
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“Because here,” Jim replied, “movement is power.
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Yet even America was not a model. It mistook consumption for liberty and governance for wisdom. Leaders inflated their importance. Education became indoctrination. Media became amplifier. Democracy bent under emotional mass manipulation.
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Fear was the most efficient tool.
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Convince a population death is imminent, and they will surrender anything for protection. Fabricate belief systems that weaponize mortality, and obedience follows naturally.
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Humans were vulnerable. Mortal. Hungry. Cooperative by necessity, exploitative by design. There was no end to appetite—only to restraint.
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Abdul slowed the cab. “Another checkpoint,” he warned.
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Lines of vehicles stretched ahead. Israeli soldiers searched cars methodically. Arguments flared where paperwork failed. A group of men were detained. Their wives cried accusations of injustice. The soldiers did not respond.
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Helen observed without boredom. “They are all convinced they are victims,” she said. “That’s what makes resolution impossible.”
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Jim said nothing.
Instead, he invited Helen to walk with him.
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They stepped out, leaving Abdul to hold their place in line. Palestinians filled the road almost exclusively. Israelis avoided it unless armed and assigned. Soldiers remained within rigid boundaries, weapons visible, posture rehearsed.
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“They say they are occupied,” Helen said. “Just as the Jews once said the same of Rome.”
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“History repeats because memory refuses to mature,” Jim replied.
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Palestinian leaders appealed to the new Rome—America—to enforce a divided Jerusalem. Power always sought external arbiters when internal compromise failed.
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“The temple fell nineteen centuries ago,” Jim said. “And men have been trying to rebuild it ever since.
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“The Master replaced it,” Helen said. “The body became the sanctuary.”
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“Yes. And those who claim to hate idols now kill to protect them.”
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Jerusalem had always murdered her prophets.
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America tolerated all faiths officially, honoring none beyond its own authority. Law replaced deity. Tolerance masked indifference. In the Middle East, discrimination was overt, aggressive, unapologetic.
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Qblh did not question YAOHUSHUA’s promise of the land to Israel. He did not reinterpret covenant to soothe politics.
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Helen grew irritated when merchants refused her service due to her attire. She instructed Jim to purchase the same goods elsewhere, then flaunted them openly.
“He treats me as an equal,” she said coldly. “We are not your servants.”
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She spat at the offending merchant—not cruelty, but rebuke. The ambrosia-laced saliva soothed even as her words wounded. The humiliation lingered longer than the sting.
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Yet trouble was rare. Jim removed his weapons and walked unguarded among the people. He dispensed medicine without limit. Helen followed witha bread basket that never emptied. Hunger softened suspicion. Illness dissolved into gratitude.
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By the time they returned to the cab, many rumors had spread. At an Israeli checkpoint, the captain was waiting. He did not ask for papers.
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Instead, he handed Jim his phone. “It’s for you.”
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General Armstrong’s voice came through first. “You’ve attracted attention, Jim. Washington wants clarity. The region is volatile. The president is concerned.”
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“Tell her,” Jim said evenly, “that this is not her jurisdiction.”
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The line clicked.
The President’s voice entered sharp and controlled. She warned him against destabilizing the region. She urged restraint. She demanded explanation.
Jim listened. Then asked calmly, “What is your alternative?”
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Silence.
She had none.
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He did not mention fusion. He did not mention Jerusalem. He promised only consideration..
Traffic began moving faster.
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Palestinians waved as they passed the cab.
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Armstrong smiled audibly. He admired Jim’s refusal to kneel. America could not buy him. It could not threaten him. He was relieved Jim was benevolent.
“Colonel James,” Armstrong said carefully, “I assume you are not tolerating terrorism.”
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Jim laughed softly. “Generals think more clearly than presidents.”
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The president hung up.
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“She does not like you,” Armstrong said.
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“She is not my sovereign,” Jim replied. “And without us, Isis would still hold your flag.”
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Armstrong hesitated. “I pray you are on good terms with God.”
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Jim looked toward Jerusalem.“When do you expect Him to arrive?”
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“You know I can’t answer that.”
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“Perhaps,” Jim said quietly, “I can.”
The line went dead.
Above them, satellites adjusted orbit.
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Jerusalem waited.
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And the world was watching now.
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