170 | Soul Night School

170 Why Different Personalities and Preferences Prevent Soul Night School Attendance

Chapter 1: The Rabbit Girl Explains Why Fear Prevents Her From Attending Soul School

As the diverse groups gather, the Rabbit girl explains why fear prevents her from attending soul school, setting a tense mood before the session begins. The night soul school auditorium hums like a beehive about to swarm. While their bodies sleep at night, the souls of young adults gather in the etheric retreats for training.

First night.

Four thousand students fill the rows—hoodies up, earbuds dangling, backpacks like shields. Five main cliques claim their territories: Rabbits, Donuts, Believers, Rebels, and Socialists.

They don’t mix. They don’t even pretend.

Blue light from overhead lights spills across the stage where Lord Blue stands, hands clasped calmly behind his back. He looks like the kind of teacher who never raises his voice and still manages to control the room.

He scans the crowd.

The air is thick with fear, boredom, anger, numbness, suspicion—five different storms colliding under one ceiling.

A hand lifts in the Rabbits’ section.

It shakes.

A Rabbit girl—oversized hoodie, mask covering half her face, sleeves pulled over her fingers—pushes herself to her feet. Her heart thunders so loudly she is sure the whole hall can hear it.

“Why do we have to come to soul school?” she asks.

Her voice trembles, but the question refuses to stay inside.

Lord Blue’s gaze softens.

“Attending or not attending is your free choice,” he says. “Soul University lessons are only about five percent classroom time and ninety‑five percent practice.

“The instructions are secretly woven into your life events and experiences. Inconvenient opportunities to serve other worthy soul students highlight your current lessons while reinforcing the last ones.”

The Rabbit girl hears the words, but fear is already spiraling.

“I already know too much and care too much to learn more scary stuff,” she blurts.

All around her, Rabbits nod. She feels their eyes on her back, urging her to say what they don’t dare.

“Fear motivates me to care,” she says, “but not to act.

“I already know about corruption and darkness and… and oppression. I can’t sleep.

“I’m full of fear. There’s no space left in my brain for more rules and laws I might break.”

She swallows.

“The book of rules on being ‘good‑ish’ doesn’t say I have to go to soul school,” she says. “So… if I skip my classes, will devils torture me forever?”

The question drops into the silence like a stone.

Lord Blue shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Soul school teachers want to help you succeed, not punish you.

“Your failures naturally bring their own pain and sorrow.”

The girl’s throat tightens.

She imagines invisible tests she can’t see coming.

“I’m afraid of being punished if I get tricked by the Tempters and don’t do exactly what I’m supposed to,” she says. “I know I have to be good if I want rewards.

“But skipping my lessons—that’s not doing evil. That’s … nothing. I’m not hurting anyone. I don’t want to be burned alive because I missed class.

“Making me learn by scaring me with demons in hell doesn’t feel right.”

A ripple moves through the Rabbits.

“Don’t make us learn! Don’t make us learn!” they shout, voices high and panicked.

Lord Blue doesn’t raise his voice.

“Everything you create is imbued with fear when you are filled with fear,” he says. “Those who live full of fear and doubt have no room for peace and harmony. “Soul school can help you let go of your anxiety and your concerns.”

The Rabbit girl stares at him, stunned.

“Then I wouldn’t have anything left,” she says, barely above a whisper. Then louder: “Fear makes me think and feel something. It’s the only thing keeping me alive through all the dangers and demons and scoundrels in the world."

“My fears are my best friends. I can count on them when people I get attached to leave me.”

She tugs her hoodie tighter; her partial mask is like a second skin.

“I’d be so lonely without my fears,” she says. “I hide behind my hoodie and mask when I go outside so no one knows I’m afraid of them. My stress and anxiety make me weak. I’m an easy target. I cling to my stuff because it feels like a security blanket.”

Her confession hits something raw in every Rabbit.

One by one, they stand.

“Don’t take away our fears!” they shout. “Don’t take away our fears!”

The fear energy around them thickens, wrapping like a gray‑blue fog.

Then they run.

Backpacks slam against each other—feet pound. Doors burst open. Rabbits are very good at running away.

Lord Blue stands still as row after row empties.

When the last pink hoodie vanishes, a thousand seats are suddenly bare.

The echo of their footsteps fades.

And soul school has only begun.

Chapter 2: Abby Explains Why Believers Rely on Make-Believe Fantasies Instead of Soul School

In the shifting atmosphere of the retreat, Abby explains why Believers rely on make-believe fantasies instead of soul school, demonstrating her absolute refusal to undergo spiritual testing—night two.

Fewer students return while their bodies sleep.

The Rabbits’ section is mostly empty, just a few scattered hoodies hovering near the exits as they might still bolt.

At the center, the Believers huddle together. Cross necklaces shine beside crystal pendants. Some wear religious T‑shirts; others hold prayer beads. They sit closer to the stage, like they want to be noticed and approved.

A confident girl stands.

Her name is Abby.

She doesn’t shake.

“Why do we have to come to soul school?” she asks.

Lord Blue answers the same way as before.

“Attending or not attending is your free choice.”

Abby frowns.

“I believe my Creator will get angry and want revenge if I don’t obey Him,” she says. “He won’t want me around if I don’t always make Him happy.

“He’ll throw me into outer darkness where it’s so cold my teeth rattle.”

A murmur rises.

“No darkness!” some Believers protest. “We must make the Creator happy!”

Their voices stick together like a chant made of fear.

“The Creator is not a selfish, emotional dictator depending on humans to make Him happy,” Lord Blue says. “Those who are full of false beliefs have no room for Truth. The soul school pathway is concealed. You must find it yourself.”

Abby crosses her arms.

“Believers don’t have the skills to find some hidden trail—if it exists,” she replies. “I don’t believe there’s a path I have to suffer through. I believe someone else already walked that path for me. I believe someone paid for my ticket to Heaven, and all I have to do is claim it in my Savior’s name when I die. I’m weak. I can’t strive for perfection.”

“Prepaid ticket to Heaven!” the Believers shout, energized.

“Those lacking self‑mastery cannot enter a perfect heavenly world,” Lord Blue says. “Soul school can help you let go of false beliefs and strengthen your power.”

“Then I’d have nothing left,” Abby says. “My beliefs are my foundation. I only care about what I believe. Even if what I believe is false, I would not want to know. I am comfortable with my set of assumed expectations. They give me something to hold onto and look forward to. The world can be a very depressing place."

Lord Blue, "Children who refuse to mature think their wishes will all come true."

“I make‑believe my truths.” Abby smiles a little at the phrase. “Our souls were given two gifts,” she says. “Make‑believe and free will. Creative imagination is a wonderful gift. Believers use it to create the world around them. This fantasy gift lets me make‑believe whatever I want.”

Abby's eyes shine. “I believe everything that happens is supposed to happen,” she says, “because my Creator is in complete control, and He makes my beliefs real. I create my fantasy lifestyle and demand that others play along. That is true freedom. That’s how it’s meant to be.”

“Belief is the key to creation!” she continues. “I believe I can believe whatever I want, and wishing hard enough will make it come true. Fantasy becomes real because I empower it with my beliefs.”

A warm, sparkling field of energy swells around the Believers’ section—bright, but oddly slippery.

“Because we believe it,” they shout, “our Creator is responsible for making it come true!”

Lord Blue lets the echo fade.

“What if what you believe isn’t real Truth?” he asks.

Abby doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re not listening,” she says. “I don’t care if my beliefs are true or false.

“I pick beliefs that fulfill my desires. I am not controlled by knowledge and laws; I choose beliefs that serve me.”

She laughs softly. “I live in a parallel world of delusion—or is it illusion?” she says. “I mix those up.”

The others laugh.

“I don’t believe I have to slog through soul school lessons and tests,” she continues. “I assume some great being will remake me exactly how they want me to be in the afterlife.”

“Why waste time on self‑mastery,” the Believers shout, “when someone will recreate us as perfectly worthless, mindless, happy, adoring subjects?”

“Those who master wisdom, virtues, and mystic powers,” Lord Blue says, “get to keep what they’ve attained—and qualify for heavenly jobs.”

Crowd of Believers, "Ewe, we don't want jobs. We don't believe anyone needs to work after they die. Our Creator gives us a mansion, takes away our debt and gives us our free daily bread and the best wine."

“We want an eternal vacation,” Abby calls. “We’ve suffered enough. We don’t plan to work in paradise.

“Our almighty Creator will handle everything.”

“Are you claiming Truth is relative to the believer?” Lord Blue asks.

“That’s why belief is better than knowledge,” Abby says. “Truth is only what people choose to believe.

“If no one believes in a truth, then it isn’t Truth.

“Every truth must be verified by human belief, or it’s not real.”

She circles her hand lazily, rewiring reality.

“Thinking you know something is lying to yourself,” she says, “because everything is changing and the future is unknowable.

“You can’t know the sun will rise tomorrow—it hasn’t happened yet. You can only believe it.

“Once something has happened, it’s past. You can only believe you understood it because there are so many perspectives.

“Believing in the power of make‑believe fantasy is the real key.”

Abby looks around.

“There are many options,” she says, “so I believe in the few that are acceptable to me."

Lord Blue, "Soul school teaches you how to increase your soul's presence right now."

“I don’t believe we need to attend soul school. You call our beliefs false and want to take them away.”

“We need our beliefs!” the Believers cry. “Don’t take away our security blanket!”

“You sound like a child who never grew up,” Lord Blue says gently. “Those full of false beliefs have no room for Truth. Real Truth can free you from a world of fantasy delusions.”

Abby lifts her chin.

“My Savior promised me that if I can believe, then all things are possible because I believe,” she says. “It’s my Savior’s job to fulfill every heartfelt wish. I don’t need Soul School to master mystic powers. I already have a magic genie in a lamp.”

The Believers rise.

“Don’t take away our fantasies!” they yell. “Don’t take away our fantasies!”

The light around them bends.

In one blink, they are there, shouting.

In the next, whole sections of seats stand empty—still vibrating faintly with the echo of their wishful energy.

They have stepped sideways into their own imagined paradise.

The air grows still.

Soul school continues.

With fewer and fewer students.

Chapter 3: Reb Explains Why Rebels Prefer Chaos Energy and the Dark Side Over Cosmic Law

With the crowd steadily thinning out, Reb explains why Rebels prefer chaos energy and the dark side over cosmic law, eager to exploit untamed power—night three.

The emptiness in the auditorium is impossible to ignore.

Rabbits have run.

Believers have vanished.

In the back, a cluster of Rebels sprawls across their section, claiming it like a territory. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, dyed hair, chains. Some look half‑asleep. Others buzz with a coiled, reckless electricity.

One of them—tall, sharp‑eyed—leaps to his feet.

He calls himself Reb.

“I demand to know why there’s a soul school mandate,” Reb says. His voice rings with practiced defiance. “I think I already know more than you know.”

The Rebels laugh, slam their boots against seat backs.

“Soul school is not a competition,” Lord Blue says. “Attending or not attending is your free choice.”

“Soul School has too many oppressive rules and policies,” Reb snaps. “Who are you to tell us we should only use Holy Spirit energy?

“There are easier sources of power. Easier ways to get what we want.”

Inside, he remembers nights he powered himself on rage because nothing else worked.

“I can easily learn stuff the hard way,” he says. “In hard‑knock school, I don’t have to pay attention, obey cosmic laws, or act virtuously.

“I can do whatever I want.

“I can have all the power I want using negative feelings like anger and hatred.

“There’s so much chaotic energy out there—and some of us want to explore the dark side.”

As he speaks, black‑red sparks flicker around the Rebels’ section—anger thickening into a visible haze.

“Chaos energy helps us get what we want,” Reb says. “Progressive values embrace using hatred, anger and revenge for empowerment—so everyone has enough energy.

“Without chaos energy, there’d be an energy shortage.”

“We want chaos power now!” the Rebels roar. “We don’t care about future consequences!”

“Those who are full of dark‑side energy have no room for Holy Spirit energy,” Lord Blue says. “Soul school can help you release your shadow‑side energy.”

“Then I’d have nothing left,” Reb says. “Modern thinkers don’t call perversions ‘wrong’ anymore. They’re just lifestyle details.

“All choices are acceptable because they exist.

“Nature gives us many equal, diverse options.

“The New World Order embraces everyone as equal and demands that everyone’s diversity be affirmed.

“Don’t judge people for choosing Holy Spirit energy or chaos energy.

“That’s biased. That’s discriminatory.”

“The thoughts and feelings you send out embed in your energy,” Lord Blue says. “If they’re corrupted, that energy multiplies and comes back tenfold as pain.”

“Not my problem,” Reb says. “I’ll be a different person by then.

“And with all the global warming, we shouldn’t be forced to use only warm mystic fire. We can save the planet using the Coldfire energy of the dark side.

“We need both dark and light for balance and inclusion.”

The Rebels stomp in unison.

“We affirm the efficiency of Coldfire energy to stop global warming!” they chant.

“That is not the way of soul school,” Lord Blue says quietly.

“I know,” Reb says. “That’s why I choose the rebellious false teachers.

“They have more secrets to share.”

“We want dark power secrets!” the Rebels yell.

“Why don’t you obey cosmic laws?” Lord Blue asks.

“I can do whatever I want,” Reb says. “This is our time to stand up and show our power with more riots and chaos.

“I’ve moved three times this year because stores and businesses keep closing.

“I gave up owning a car—nice ones get stolen, junkers get set on fire.

“It’s easier to be homeless now. Every place I live is broken into and robbed.

“My arrest record is so long that no one trusts me enough to hire me.

“I try to get arrested for free food, housing, medical care—but they keep letting me go.

“Being outside is unsafe unless I’m with a mob.”

“Don’t you want a better life?” Lord Blue asks.

Reb looks away.

“We are lone monsters of our own making,” he says. “We neither freeze nor run away.

“We survive by chasing others.

“We have no friends, because we’re rebellious and untrustworthy.

“We’re good at making other people get blamed for what we do.”

The Rebels stand, energy snapping like live wires.

“Don’t take away our dark side!” they shout.

Then they stampede out—throwing books, knocking over desks, leaving a trail of cracking energy like black ice and smoke.

The auditorium shakes with their exit.

More rows are empty.

Soul school shrinks again.

Chapter 4: Diesel Explains Why Slothful Donuts Prefer Not Knowing and Not Caring About Soul School

Amidst the dwindling attendance, Diesel explains why slothful Donuts prefer not knowing and not caring about soul school, perfectly content to drift without purpose—night four.

The silence between cliques feels heavier than the remaining noise.

Rabbits—gone.

Believers—gone.

Rebels—gone.

In one section, a small knot of Donuts slouch. Half‑lidded eyes. Blank stares. The air around them feels slow, like thick fog.

Lord Blue clears his throat.

“Soul students should be aware of the lies promoted by fake schools,” he says.

One Donut—nicknamed Diesel, because even his movements feel like slow fuel—leans back in his seat.

He doesn’t bother raising his hand.

“Why do we have to come to soul school?” he mutters. “I’d rather be lazy and do nothing.”

“What could make you interested?” Lord Blue asks.

Diesel shrugs, an almost heroic effort.

“I don’t know,” he says. “And I don’t care about spiritual stuff right now.

“I identify as a slothful Donut.

“If I have a soul, it’s hanging out somewhere else. Right now, my body is here, and pleasure is what matters.”

A few Donuts chuckle, slow and soft.

“If I do have a soul,” Diesel continues, “then soul school should be for after my body dies.

“The Donut lifestyle is effortless.

“Donuts are simple‑minded. We do what comes naturally. We trust our instincts, our brains, our emotions, and react.

“We’re not control freaks. We like to sit back and relax with the holy smoke of marijuana."

“We let things happen. Donuts aren’t afraid of change, but we don’t push for it either.

“‘Let it be’ is our motto.”

“Let it be; we are not responsible,” the other Donuts mumble.

“Everything may or may not have a reason,” Diesel goes on. “We don’t know what it is—and we don’t want to.

“If there is a purpose, knowing it would make us accountable. It is much easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission. We think rules we neither made nor approved of give us the right to stretch or break these restrictive laws."

“The future is unknowable until we get there. The past is knowable—but it’s over, so who cares?

“The present is already playing out, and it’s too late to change it.

“Let it be. Ride the surf. Make the most of life.”

“Let it be; we are not responsible,” the Donuts echo.

“What happened to make you this way?” Lord Blue asks.

“I don’t know,” Diesel says. “And I don’t care.

“Where are you getting these questions from? My motto is: let it be. There will be an answer. Let it be.”

“The future is unknowable. The past is knowable but gone. The present is moving without me,” he repeats. “Let it be, ride the surf, make the most out of life.

“I don’t want to know if there’s a purpose. That would make me accountable.”

“Those who don’t know and don’t care have no room for virtuous caring,” Lord Blue says. “Soul school can help you start caring about others—and about sponsoring those who deserve help.”

“Let the losers take care of themselves,” Diesel says. “Not knowing and not caring about others is the ultimate cop‑out.

“No one can hold a Donut responsible for anything we think, feel, or do.

“Donuts are hollow inside because we have no fixed morals, principles, or beliefs.

“Our beliefs and principles are… fluid.”

He smiles faintly.

“True peace and harmony come from not knowing and not caring,” he says, “because then there’s nothing to worry about.

“Nothing to be concerned about, because I don’t have enough interest to care.

“It’s the ultimate lifestyle.

“There’s so much I can’t understand that it’s best to know nothing. That way, everything is even and equal.

“If I care more about frogs than birds, that’s unfair to birds.

“But if I don’t care about either, everything’s treated the same.

“That’s being truly nonjudgmental.

“I don’t judge anything because nothing matters to me.

“When nothing matters, everything becomes the same.

“I don’t even care that I don’t know—because I don’t know that I don’t care.”

“What if soul school could improve your life?” Lord Blue asks.

“Everything is relative,” Diesel answers. Humans adapt to anything.

“Normal is just the middle between pain and pleasure. If my life improves, my ‘normal’ shifts, but I still have ups and downs.

“I’m not responsible when I don’t have information. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know’ is the ultimate excuse.

“My peace and happiness come from not knowing and not caring. No worries. No concerns. Not enough interest to care.

“Best lifestyle there is.

“I can’t know everything, so it’s best to know nothing.

“That way, everything stays equal.”

“Don’t you get cold and empty from not caring?” Lord Blue asks quietly.

“Caring makes me vulnerable,” Diesel says. “If I care about controversies, I create expectations.

“Expectations lead to disappointment.

“Not caring means no stressful anticipation.

“I don’t have opinions. I don’t judge. Nothing about anyone matters to me.

“Doing nothing is safest. I won’t upset anyone.

“I find a safe place and freeze. I blend into the allness.

“When nothing matters, everything is the same.

“I know I don’t know much. I’d rather not know about soul school.

“It sounds like a lot of work—studying, tests.”

“What are your soul’s goals?” Lord Blue asks.

“I have no idea,” Diesel says. “I don’t believe I have a soul.

“If I do, it’s hiding from me, and we’re not on speaking terms.”

“What is the purpose of life on Earth?” Lord Blue asks.

Diesel grins.

“To become one with the smoke,” he says. “I’m so glad marijuana’s legal now.”

The other Donuts haul themselves up.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care!” they chant as they leave their books and drift out.

Their exit is slow, soft.

They leave behind more empty chairs.

Soul school grows quieter still.

Chapter 5: The Socialist Student Demands Equal Karma and Progressive Values Instead of Soul Presence

Taking a stand against the curriculum, the Socialist student demands equal karma and progressive values instead of soul presence, arguing that passing grades should be universally given regardless of effort—night five.

The auditorium is emptier than full now.

Rabbits: gone.

Believers: gone.

Rebels: gone.

Donuts: gone.

Only a hundred students remain—most of them in one tight‑knit group: the Socialists.

They sit straight‑backed, eyes sharp, like they’re collecting evidence.

One of them stands—a proud student with a clear, cutting voice.

“Why do we have to come to soul school,” he asks, “if the Rabbits, Believers, Donuts, and Rebels don’t have to show up?”

“Attending or not attending is your free choice,” Lord Blue says.

The Socialist sweeps a hand at the empty rows.

“Why is there no diversity in soul school?” he demands. “Other than Socialists, I see only obedient, wise, virtuous students.

“I thought all souls were equal.

“Why are so many students excluded? Where are the criminals, rebels, anarchists? Where are the stoners, crackheads and alcoholics? Where are the hopelessly depressed and insane?

“All these equal souls should be included.”

The remaining Socialists murmur approval.

“Why did you allow them to leave?” the Socialist presses. “They needed more lessons, but you refused to threaten or force them into passing their tests.

“Look around this nearly empty auditorium. Most students left because you tried to remove their fears, false beliefs, chaos, and irresponsibility. These qualities are their close companions, and you dared to separate them from their best friends. You destroyed the only thing forcing them to attend. It’s your fault they left.”

Murmurs turn into a chant.

“Teacher’s fault! Teacher’s fault!”

“You have the power to override their free will,” the Socialist continues, “and you chose to let them make their own choices.

“You gave an honest answer—told the Rabbits they could run and hide and not become roast Rabbit.

“You told the Believers our Creator is not an emotionally vindictive tyrant, but one too pure to obsess over our failures and disobedience.

“You broke the wrathful dictator myth—that fear is what kept Believers in class.

“You tried to strip them of their beliefs, leaving them cold and naked.

“I label you biased, discriminatory, and unfair.

“I cancel you for not embracing Believers’ fantasies.”

“Teacher’s fault! Teacher’s fault!” the other Socialists cry.

“Teachers train us, then test us before we’re ready,” they chant.

“Many Socialists don’t study and deliberately fail,” the lead Socialist says, “so we all stay equal.

“Our failures are our virtue—they signal that we stand together as unenlightened equals.

“We support each other by embracing our ignorance instead of labeling anyone superior.”

“Those who are full of ignorance have no room for enlightenment,” Lord Blue says. “Soul school can help you release your ignorance.”

“We need our ignorance to maintain inclusive equality,” the Socialist replies. “Without it, we’d be labeled superior in knowledge, power and ability.

“It’s your fault some students can’t pass their deliberately difficult tests, which forces others to deliberately pretend they’re incapable.

“Just pretend incapability is a virtue—it shows support for truly incapable souls.

“A good teacher should force students to understand. That’s the best way for everyone to pass.

“Why give a test when you know they can’t pass it?

“Tests should only be given once students already understand everything.

“A progressive teacher would write the answers on the board so everyone passes every time.

“Giving a test when someone doesn’t know all the answers is cruel.

“Only students who already know should be tested.

“Then confidence grows, and no one fails.

“Everyone should pass together so no one’s feelings are hurt.”

“Everyone passes together!” the Socialists shout.

“I try to give all souls virtuous inspiration to pass their tests,” Lord Blue says. “A soul full of low standards has no room for excellence.”

“We need low standards so everyone can feel successful,” the Socialist counters. “If some understand more, then all lessons should stop until everyone catches up.

“Students lacking empowerment should be automatically artificially boosted.

“Knowledge not everyone can grasp should be kept secret.

“Souls with greater spiritual bank accounts should have their energy redistributed to those who haven’t earned as much.

“This keeps everything equal. No hurt feelings.”

“Souls are always equal! Souls are always equal!” the Socialists chant.

“Favoritism shouldn’t be allowed,” the Socialist says, “like rewarding students labeled superior because they studied and passed, while non-striving classmates failed.

“That’s not objective.

“There needs to be a redistribution of karma.

“All karma should be divided equally so everyone gets a fair share.

“Some have more karma than others—so those with small burdens should take on the heavy burdens of the poor achievers."

“That way, everyone gets the same chance to live life however they want.”

He spreads his hands.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he continues. “It’s unfair that some people have no talents and little savings. Everyone’s errors should be forgiven, so everyone is equal. Punishing and rewarding some more than others isn’t progressive.

“New virtues and morals have changed the Truth about right and wrong.

“The laws must change to match new human values and principles.”

“Progressive principles for everyone!” the Socialists shout.

“What happened in the past is over,” the Socialist says. “It shouldn’t matter.

“All souls should get a daily clean slate. Past wiped out. That’s equality.

“Blaming someone now for decisions they made then is like blaming someone else.

“The person in the present is different from the one in the past.

“You can’t blame our present person for choices made by us in the past.

“We’ve changed. The past should be dropped.

“We are renewed personalities making fresh, progressive decisions.

“The past doesn’t matter when the decision‑maker is now in the present.

“This changes everything.”

“Clean slate, forgiveness for all!” the Socialists scream.

Lord Blue, "Without active soul presence, you miss out on the threefold flame filled with mystic wisdom, virtue and empowerment. You condemn yourself to be mindless puppets of the Tempters."

The Socialists chant, "The Tempters give us promises for everything we desire. We don't need our soul, so we don't need soul school."

They group and march out.

Their chant still echoes down the hall long after they’re gone.

Silence floods the auditorium.

Almost everyone is gone.

Chapter 6: Evan Explains the Advantages of Soul School and Cosmic Laws While Observing the Other Cliques

Reviewing the spiritual dropout rates, Evan explains the advantages of soul school and cosmic laws while observing the other cliques, reflecting on what true self-mastery requires. Night six, only twelve students remain from the original four thousand.

They sit scattered across the front rows. The empty seats behind them feel like a warning—and a space wide open for possibility.

Lord Blue stands at the front beside a large, hovering screen of light. With a flick of a gesture, it flickers on, showing scenes like security footage from the cliques’ lives.

“Let’s observe the Rabbits’ lifestyle,” he says.

The Rabbit girl appears on the screen, alone in her bedroom. Curtains drawn. Hoodie up. Phone face down.

“I feel hopeless, afraid, and ready to give up,” she says. “Everywhere I look, the world is going downhill.

“Everyone betrays or abandons me.

“My fears are still my best friends.

“The dangers and scoundrels keep increasing, so I mostly stay home.

“I hide behind my hoodie and mask when I go outside so no one knows I’m afraid of them.

“My stress and anxiety make me weak and an easy target.

“I cling to my few possessions—they’re my security.”

“Everything they create is embedded with fear,” Lord Blue says softly.

“Let’s observe the Believers’ lifestyle.”

The scene shifts.

Abby sits in a circle of friends, religious books piled around them.

“I believe my Creator is still in control, no matter how the world looks,” she says. “My Maker created evil and sin to test me.

“He must really like me—because my life is full of tests and painful hardships.

“I believe He has a plan, and soon I’ll be in Heaven singing ‘Alleluia’ over and over. It’s the only heavenly word I really know.”

She laughs weakly.

“I only make friends with other Believers,” she says, “because we’re all going to paradise. The non-Believers can't join us.”

On screen, she approaches a Rabbit.

“Don’t be afraid,” she says. “Your Savior is coming.”

The view jumps—Abby facing a Rebel.

“You’re gonna fry in hell,” she tells him, flatly.

“Humans often prop up false beliefs by accusing everyone else of being wrong,” Lord Blue says.

Abby turns away from a Donut.

“I don’t talk to the good‑for‑nothing Donuts,” she says. “They always say, ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care.’”

Then she faces some Socialists.

“They try to trick me into accepting their perverted ways,” she says. “They say we’re all equal in my Creator’s forgiving eyes.

“I want to believe they’re going to hell too—so paradise won’t be so crowded.

“There are only so many mansions.

“Only Believers with blind, wishful faith get mansions of their own.”

“Let’s observe the Rebels’ lifestyle,” Lord Blue says.

Rev appears, pacing a trash‑strewn alley.

“This is our time to show our power with more riots and chaos,” he says.

Images flash—closed stores, burned‑out cars, smashed windows.

“I’ve moved three times because local stores and businesses keep shutting down,” he says. “I gave up on owning a car—nice ones stolen, beaters torched.

“It’s easier to be homeless now. Every home I get is broken into and robbed.

“My arrest record is so long that no one hires me.

“I try to get arrested just to get free food, housing, medical care—but they keep letting me go.

“Being outside is unsafe unless I’m with a mob.”

“Let’s observe the Donuts’ lifestyle,” Lord Blue says.

Diesel lounges in a smoke‑filled room.

“I’m so glad marijuana is legal now,” he says.

“What is the purpose of life on Earth?” Lord Blue asks.

“I don’t know,” Diesel says. “Why should I care?”

“What are your soul’s goals?” Lord Blue asks.

Diesel shrugs.

“I have no idea,” he says. “My soul and I aren’t on speaking terms.”

“Let’s observe the Socialists’ lifestyle,” Lord Blue says.

A Socialist scrolls through endless posts.

“The progressives are making great progress,” they say. “There are now eighty‑seven gender identities and sixty‑nine racial identities.

“Former white supremacists are now called ‘pink people’ and included in the diversity rainbow.

“All divisive names are outlawed. Only pronouns can be spoken.

“‘Everyone’ is the most popular pronoun—and now everyone seems to own almost nothing.”

Images flash: looted stores, forms, protests.

“The favorite criminal pronoun is ‘no one,’” they say, “which has emptied all the jails—because ‘no one’ is responsible.

“‘Qualified’ is also huge—every government form asks if you’re eligible before giving handouts.

“But the rich are getting poorer, and we’re running out of other people’s money to confiscate.

“We can fix it by printing more money to give away—keeping our popularity with the uneducated, impoverished masses.”

The screen fades.

Silence returns.

One student raises his hand politely.

His name is Evan.

“Yes?” Lord Blue says.

“What are the advantages of soul school?” Evan asks.

Lord Blue smiles.

“That’s an excellent question,” he says. “What do you think?”

Evan looks down at his worn notebook. It is stuffed with scribbles, diagrams, and underlined phrases.

“Attending soul school is obviously the wisest choice I can make,” he says slowly.

“I’m born, live, die, and repeat in new bodies until my soul aligns with and imports the wisdom, virtues and powers of my Crystic Conscience. Soul school helps me learn to use my spiritual powers to direct Holy Spirit energy wisely. My soul is becoming healthy, wealthy and powerful."

“I study cosmic laws so I can make wise decisions.

“I work to build good relationships with my mystic teachers—and hopefully, to merit a sponsoring master.

“I… have a list of a hundred and forty‑two advantages.”

The other eleven students stare.

Some look skeptical.

Some look… interested.

“You have answered your question,” Lord Blue says. “It would have been better if the ones who left had heard your response.”

Evan glances back at the sea of empty seats.

He sees shadows of Rabbits drowning in fear.

Believers are locked in fantasies.

Rebels feeding off chaos.

Donuts drifting in siphoning smoke.

Socialists pretending to rewrite the laws of cause and effect.

He wonders how many will ever come back.

He also finds himself wondering—not just what soul school demands from him—but what it is secretly offering.

Around him, faint golden threads of energy stir, like clues in a mystery he has only begun to notice.

Somewhere beyond the auditorium walls, the dropouts' choices are still rippling through the unseen world.

Soul school—patient, persistent, unforced—waits.

And Evan realizes something simple and terrifying at once:

He has always been enrolled.

And the most difficult tests have only just begun.

Chapter Synopsis: This document details chapters 1 through 6 of a narrative exploring why different human personalities and preferences reject night soul school within the Crysticism framework. It outlines how five distinct student cliques—the fear-driven Rabbits, the fantasy-reliant Believers, the chaos-embracing Rebels, the slothful Donuts, and the equalizing Socialists—choose avoidance, delusion, or rebellion over spiritual self-mastery. In contrast, diligent students like Evan recognize soul school as an invaluable opportunity to align with cosmic laws, cultivate virtue, and develop genuine soul presence under the guidance of Lord Blue.

Core Themes & Laws:

• Sovereign Free Will and Attendance: The foundational Crystic principle that soul school is never forced upon individuals; attending or dropping out is a matter of absolute free will, with each choice naturally carrying its own developmental consequences.

• Psychological Evasion of Spiritual Growth: The behavioral tendency of unawakened personalities to hide behind fear, dogmatic wish-fulfillment, dark-side power rushes, apathetic inaction, or forced societal equality to avoid internal inner friction.

• The Reality of Soul School Practice: The understanding that true spiritual evolution occurs primarily through 95% practical application in daily life events, rather than passive classroom theory.

• Sovereign Co-Creation and Self-Mastery: The journey of the conscious student who embraces cosmic laws, builds strong relationships with mystic teachers, and actively expands personal glowpower.

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

• Lord Blue: The serene and patient master teacher who presides over the night soul school auditorium and guides willing students.

• Evan: A dedicated and studious soul student who recognizes the profound advantages of soul school and the importance of aligning with cosmic laws.

• The Rabbits: A clique paralyzed by fear, anxiety, and suspicion, who use their anxieties as security blankets and run away from spiritual accountability.

• The Believers (Abby): A faction relying on make-believe fantasies, unearned heaven tickets, and an imagined Savior to avoid personal discipline and self-mastery.

• The Rebels (Reb): A group embracing chaos energy, anger, and the dark side as an easy route to power without adhering to cosmic law.

• The Donuts (Diesel): A slothful group characterized by extreme apathy, preferring "not knowing and not caring" while floating through life unresponsively.

• The Socialists: Students who demand forced equality, low standards, and the redistribution of karma so that everyone passes effortlessly without striving.