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Zawmb’yee Nuje has speculated that a beam weapon was used in Central Park. She believes it may be an acacizg stolen from the Kmpamew armory by the former High Priestess who may be plotting a coup from a remote location away from the sacred caves.

[ {extract Entry 91 chap. 8:
     I pulled Doug over behind a tree. I said, “Duck down and stop thinking — meditate on nothingness.” One of the figures pulled out what looked like a weapon of some kind. A beam of light struck the figure who stood still, and then vanished in place; there was no fall, change of position, or obstruction but just gone instantly. Doug was not focused and reacted. I said, “Doug! You spoke to them in Utd’mbts.”
     “I did?”
     “Yes, we’d better run.” We turned and ran back the way we came, and then across and up an outcrop of rock. We could see the two figures go under a pedestrian bridge, open a door and disappear. “Watch what you say!”
     “I don’t know what I said.”
     “Exactly.”
     “What? Um, is it safe now?”
     “I think so. I don’t feel any Utd’mbts being spoken.”} ]

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ENTRY 91
     We went down the corner staircase to the fork where the rocks rest in front of The Big Pond. A guitar and saxophone player were tuning up while people climbed the rocks behind them, and people to the right in front sat on the grass behind the benches that lined the northward path.
     We took the westward path, along the pond, the water and ducks on the right, a lawn, trees, and the border stone wall on the left. Above the wall we could still see the street in chatter-walking glory, see the hotels across the way, and we drank in the day, springy stepped and steeped in joy.
     The benches were flecked with picnickers carousing, singles, double-troublers, troubadours, people, some at ease, one at an easel on the grass, and a bearded man washing his face at a water fountain.
     We walked along until we could choose an interesting path that led into the interior of the park. At a short distance in, I felt an inner commotion. An influence swept by us. I said, “Did you feel that?”
     Doug said, “Yes, I felt something in Utd’mbts: something about ‘Runaway Horse!’”
     “Yes,” I said. Just then, a figure in a purple dress, far up ahead, ran across the path and up a rocky hill so fast that it seemed just a flash of color that froze at the top. Two others in purple flashed right behind.
     Doug said, “Another word: it feels dire, but I can’t understand it… ”
     I pulled Doug over behind a tree. I said, “Duck down and stop thinking — meditate on nothingness.” One of the figures pulled out what looked like a weapon of some kind. A beam of light struck the figure who stood still, and then vanished in place; there was no fall, change of position, or obstruction but just gone instantly. Doug was not focused and reacted. I said, “Doug! You spoke to them in Utd’mbts.”
     “I did?”
     “Yes, we’d better run.” We turned and ran back the way we came, and then across and up an outcrop of rock. We could see the two figures go under a pedestrian bridge, open a door and disappear. “Watch what you say!”
     “I don’t know what I said.”
     “Exactly.”
     “What? Um, is it safe now?”
     “I think so. I don’t feel any Utd’mbts being spoken.”

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