While I returned to London a wealthy man, I spent much of the next year in a very dark depression.

Unlike the first time the aliens had left me, there was no question in my mind whether or not they existed, and this turned out to be the cause of much suffering. Where before I could operate in a relatively mindless fashion which helped to sedate my unhappiness, nothing could now deny the reality of these beings, nor the immediacy of their absence. That the 12-stage sequence had left me as well only served to compound my misery.

Still, at least I was rich, for despite its tragic collapse, TELEPORT had been a huge financial success, providing me with a stash of cash to secure luxury quarters in Docklands and a steady supply of drugs, booze and professional female charms. I was doing terrible harm to both my physical and spiritual aspects, turning in on an increasingly rotten core, but in a sick way, I was probably enjoying the mess, the fall from grace, and to hell with you damn useless humans.

I was alone through much of this, a number of former "friends" having abandoned me following the embarrassing California roll affair (lampooned on late night talk shows from LA to Timbuktu), while several of the well-meaning spiritual and alien-friendly types who had gathered around me in Boston wouldn't come too close for fear of infection. I can hardly blame them, for I truly was a disgraceful specimen, sucking the beauty and life from hosts, and turning the blood to my wicked devices.

Of course, there were enlightened beings less easily put off, family members, the chipped brother and sister, other Behehn and advanced students of TELEPORT, and I would say it is for no other reason than their support through those times that I am still alive to tell this story. I made it so difficult, pushing them away at every opportunity, but when the parents of the teenager who had died during one of the perverse TELEPORT rituals decided to sue, it was to their loving arms that I turned, agreeing it was best to just settle the thing and move on to the next, and hopefully more positive, phase of my existence. I cleared out my bank account and sent over the whole lot, abandoning my grand pad by the water and moving in with a sympathiser in Bloomsbury.

It is obvious now that losing the money was a wonderful blessing, and even at the time I probably saw the value, despite resenting the commencement of a job search and the thought of returning to a world of humans bound by such money-driven contexts. The search went on for weeks, then months, for as poor as I was, there were things I simply wasn't prepared to do. In fact, there was very little I felt that I could do and still remain true to the aliens and the sacred work with which I'd been tasked. This integrity seemed important to me, the faith in powers beyond this base setting, and it was to those powers that I now gave myself, despite the loss of a validation I'd known so intimately before.

"The aliens will take care of me!" I declared one morning at the top of Primrose Hill. "They are keeping their distance for reasons beyond my feeble human intelligence, but I know they are there, watching over me. Let me give myself to them now. Let me allow this chip, implanted in my brain at the age of one month - the age at which most humans commence the rapid descent into a tragic conditioning from which they will never recover, and from which, God willing, I have been spared - to open to their total direction, their utter command, as I strive on their behalf to save humanity from self-destruction!"

This statement became my code, the basic rule by which I would lead my life. Those things one reads in spiritual books, tales of sacrifice to the Highest Powers, would become the stuff of this incarnation. And I would live or die by it.

As it turned out, I lived, and very happily, my life transforming in a moment into a glorious spiritual adventure. As with the astral projection and psychic powers, I found other capacities awakening in me, a distinctive tickling of the brain presaging the emergence of another exciting layer. I was visited by angels and Ascended Masters, who revealed many of the great secrets of this planet, the shapes and networks which guide our lives. I began to ride the flow of synchronicity, recognising the perfect order around me, the manifestations in a simple occurrence.

As these new capacities came, so the old ones became much sharper, particularly the ability to recognise other Behehn, which I could now do with 85% accuracy. I soon hooked up with other members of the sacred army, remarkable individuals far more experienced than myself who provided so many cues. I learned that the aliens' disappearance was a natural course, that it marked a transition to the Second Phase, during which the chip's connections with the brain and the rest of the system deepened significantly. We spent much time discussing the sorry state of the world, the fixation on money and the resulting fields, the metaphysical cannons we would focus on them, the great explosions of Qedin on Earth!

As cool as all of this was, all this power and subtle destruction, the fact remained that I was still a human on this planet, that I still needed money, food and shelter, and it was here, in the most physical affairs, that Qedin worked its greatest magic. For when I had need of food, it appeared; when a room for the night was required, it was there; when my wallet turned light on pennies and shillings, a speaking engagement was found. How well I remember the young lad who approached my crate in Hyde Park that day, who asked so innocently if I was an alien. "Yes, son," I said, bending down and cupping his cheek. "Perhaps you are, too."

It wasn't all so beautiful, our group encountering the violent opposition one expects from humans when the fallacy of identity is exposed. Our lives were threatened, people swore they would sue, but all of us knew we were protected by the aliens, even when confronted by those darker forces, the minions of far less benevolent ETs.

On New Year's Eve, 2006, I and the other seven of the London Behehn (by now half-jokingly referring to ourselves as Eleusis Fold) travelled to India for a celebration on the beaches of Goa. During a wild night of spiritual medicinals, I burst through a wormhole into empty, outer space, hanging a moment before blasting off into sublime unconsciousness. I was not at all surprised to awaken in the meeting room on the starship Prime, nor by the tears which flowed as my teacher, Ley, held and caressed me. "Let us begin," she whispered.

And so began the Second Phase of my training, which would culminate one year later with my initiation into the Veils.

I learned that the sequence had never disappeared, that my brain had integrated the core pattern and synaptically extrapolated over 10,000,000 permutations across its fibres, bringing the hemispheres into a tight alignment and feeding nutrients to an ignited pineal. I spent much time in the city Tor, visiting temples and business establishments, where I learned new handshakes and passed through rituals, leaped from mountains and survived. With my procedural shield no longer required, I experienced the Mekeer far more closely, saw things as they really were. And how different they were from those first exposures…

On Earth, I was becoming something of a teacher, passing on the words of the Mekeer and the results of my own investigations to groups of ardent seekers. While I encountered no more Behehn, I did meet several of the old guard, those who had been chipped in previous passes, and who took to bowing to me as the sects to their Prophet, sometimes murmuring: "Rice for your children, with water."

In my meditations and private writings, something new and large seemed to be forming, some manner of perception, of organising the world. With Ley's guidance, I entered into it, meditating at the seven floating palaces as stories and legends formed about me. The Sea of Gefraim appeared to my vision, and I sailed along on the boat of my dreams, booking excursions from Port St Nilly to the Realms of Oshun, Park and Dreen. As I negotiated more favourable rates, the number and extent of these trips increased, I advancing to Dabol and beyond, to the heights of the Dome, and carrying tales of my adventures to Earth, where I started to speak of the First Gate filters.

It all made little sense at first, and even now, when I teach a class in the thing, I often have no idea what these Veils concern. But when the Gates came down so dramatically that night, I was changed forever, life's order exposed. I saw the shapes, the unbelievable control.

Six months later, in July 2008, the call came from my present employer, the Ashram of Peace, Love and the Seventh Way. Within days of assuming my joint role of Chief Assistant to the Director and Instructor in Veilic Initiation, the ashram was renamed to the Mekeer Metaphysical Centre in recognition of the aliens now joined to it through me.

And so began the Third Phase.