Farbar woke up with a hand around his throat. Fortunately, it was his own hand, and grunting with relief, he didn't stop to figure out why his appendage had acted so strangely. Perhaps there had been a curse on that bandi he touched. He was just glad it wasn't the hand of a torg that close to his jugular.

Awake now, for better or worse, he rolled out of the impromptu hammock he had fashioned from his cloak, hung between two giganut trees; his feet sliding into the shallow water beneath him without a sound. His tail, however, betrayed him, and before he knew it he was surrounded by a dozen or so wild hemhocks, snarling and snapping. But their minds were weak, and soon Farbar had them slinking back into the darkness, filled with fear.

Farbar knew it would not be long before the Others arrived, so he wasted no time completing his rituals, replenishing, loosening, opening up. In the space of six heartbeats he doubled in size. His armor fell away. It was no longer needed. He was in his dormic cycle. All he needed were his thoughts.

But even thoughts can betray you, as his instructor had been so fond of reminding him. And they were trying to betray him right now, with images of Her. He had to summon Rijar to drive them away. And not a moment too soon. The Others were here.

No-one ever saw the Others. Their presence was announced by their odor, fragrant and intoxicating, like the bark of the immature gonza plant that was used by so many these days. Next, the ambient temperature began to rise. Then they entered your mind.

The Others burst into your mind like some primitive constabulary searching for illicit drugs. Of course there were no more illicit drugs. Not for thousands of years. And there had been no constabularies for almost as long. The Others were like gods who had lost something, if such a thing was possible, which of course, it was. Anything and everything is possible. This was Moltov's seventh law.

The first thing the Others did was to ferret out and remove any thoughts of resistance. Then they removed any memories about thoughts of resistance, so that resistance was not simply removed as an option, it was completely removed from the universe of individual reality. It no longer existed, as a concept, or anything else. Then they suspended time.

Somehow, the Others were able to suspend time outside the mind, while inside the mind, it was business as usual. Even with all the advances in temporal and quantum mechanics over the millenia, no-one knew how this was done. Thoughts were shuffled, sifted, weighed, measured, and finally organized into categories of color. Then the Others would depart.

Before they departed, the Others always left a calling card. They always left behind one thought that wasn't there when they arrived. Sometimes it would be very detailed, like assembly instructions for a gravimetric device. Sometimes it would be helpful, like - there's a torg hiding behind that rock. And sometimes it would be something as apparently innocuous as - have a really nice day.

No one knew what they were up to. They certainly appeared to cause no harm. After they left, you felt pretty much the same as before, except that your mind was pleasantly refreshed and orderly, and the world seemed just a little more at peace. They were generally accepted as benign, highly evolved beings who got their kicks organizing minds. Cerebral house cleaners. What was in it for them was not known. Perhaps they fed off cerebral energy, and an organized mind facilitated their feeding. Perhaps they simply found pleasure in it. Perhaps it was a government plot. Except that governments no longer existed. And when the governments left, they took the conspiracy theorists with them (praise Moltov!).

So the Others were accepted, even welcomed by some, and Farbar patiently observed the Others now inside his mind. He speculated about their filing system. What was the significance of the colors? What was the common theme in each grouping? There appeared to be none. Happy thoughts right beside not so happy thoughts. Long thoughts next to short thoughts. Thoughts on the same subject put into different groups. Different colors. Where was the rhyme? Where was the reason? Maybe there was no rhyme nor reason. Then what was the point? Maybe there was no point! Maybe it was all random. But like all intelligent beings, Farbar was repelled by randomness. There must be a purpose. Mustn't there?

Because he was dormic, his thoughts were powerful, as the hemhocks had discovered. But even his dormic thoughts were no match for the Others. All he could do was watch and wait and muse. He had been occupied by the Others countless times. Everybody had. The Others were a part of everyday life. Since they suspended time, there was generally no disruptions, no disturbances that affected anybody in a negative way. So they coexisted, in some sort of symbiotic relationship that no-one (with the possible exception of the Others themselves), completely understood.

Fabar felt a very subtle lightheadedness, signaling the imminent departure of his guests, and began to mentally prepare to resume his pre-Other activities, as they were called. But instead of diminishing, his vertigo increased slightly, and when he looked for the thought they had left behind, he couldn't find it. Then, suddenly, it was there, only now - curiouser and curiouser - there was a voice attached! Come with us. It was an invitation and a command at the same time. It was one of the most pleasant, yet most compelling thoughts he had ever had. He had the feeling he was standing on the edge of infinity. And they were calling him. He had no choice. He leaped.

It's been more than fifty years since one of the most peaceful and enlightened cultures on Earth was outlawed by the Chinese communist government, and the Dalai Lama forced into exile. When will this momentous wrong be made right? Does anybody care? The Dalai Lama and the Tibetan people have not given up. They wait, with the kind of spiritual patience unknown to the western psyche. Oh yes, we could all learn a lot from Tibet. Why aren't governments around the world doing something? Because there are no votes in it, that's why. It's time to change that, and let our governments know that we do care. To learn more about the culture and history of Tibet, and what you can do to help, visit The Government of Tibet in Exile.