NAMUH is a work of visionary near-future science fiction.
The story contains elements of conflict, violence, and moral tension, as well as themes that may feel unfamiliar or unsettling to some readers.
This book is a work of fiction. It is not intended as instruction, guidance, or commentary on real-world belief systems.
Readers are invited to engage with the story on their own terms.
August 8th, in the not-so-distant future, just before dawn.
In a remote rainforest on the North Island of New Zealand, overlooking the constantly moving ocean, stands a very large, very old Kauri tree. The air is cool and wet, the drizzling rain briefly interrupted by the thick green canopy high above the forest floor. There, it gathers into larger droplets, preparing for the forty-metre plunge to the earth below.
Covered in an immensely dense layer of wet moss, this tree’s trunk is fifteen metres in diameter. The trunk towers steeply upward, void of any branches for the full forty metres before strong, thick branches, holding dark green foliage, erupt haphazardly from the trunk to form the tree’s canopy. The uppermost branches of this tree tower above the rest of the forest.
Many trees similar to this magnificent specimen, in forests worldwide, have died off in recent years. Humanity’s lack of understanding—no, humanity’s inaction to rectify the damage they have inflicted on the planet—is the cause. Climate change, land clearing, and ecosystem poisoning are but a few of the prime culprits.
This area of the forest remains mainly unaffected by the drastic climate changes affecting the planet. Aside from experiencing slightly hotter days and cooler nights, the forest ecosystem continues as it has for eons.
Long before humanity crawled out from the primordial ooze, the life-giving growing medium, dirt, beneath the forest floor was already preparing itself to be the major supporting instrument for this forest now towering above it.
Five people approach from different paths within the forest, the wet deadfall and moss beneath their feet muffling any sound their steps might make.
The steady bombardment of the forest floor by large droplets falling from the canopy above is deafening—especially in the absence of the usual forest sounds: no frog song, no foraging kiwis scratching, no hooting owls.
Both pant legs of Michael’s jeans are completely saturated from the almost consistent contact with the widely spaced ferns on the forest floor. He grimaces as he feels the moisture from the bottom half of his pants make its way down to the top of the thick woollen socks inside his newly acquired hiking boots.
Just one week earlier, he had been fastening metal G-clamps to three men’s ball sacks, duct-taping their naked bodies to three metal swivel stools, and connecting the lot to a power supply capable of delivering life-ending amounts of electricity. At least he had been dry.
Michael hated being in wet clothing; it made him feel claustrophobic. He would often change out of sweat-infested clothing whilst working. It upset him deeply; he utterly hated the way wet clothing would cling to his skin.
Michael keeps the forward momentum of his stride going, soon forgetting again the wetness of his clothing, the fatigue in his leg muscles, and the pain from his sprained ankle, which had occurred just as he left the designated walking trail about thirty minutes prior.
He still cannot understand why he is forcing himself to take this early-morning bush walk on his birthday. Michael also hates his birthday, and he thinks that maybe it is to take his mind off their deaths.
A grotesque scene manifests inside his mind: six bloodied bodies lying on the ground, their faces no longer recognisable, next to pools of their congealed blood.
Michael feels the tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away and again focuses on his next step.
The five people in the forest reach the magnificent Kauri tree at the same moment, oblivious to one another, each lost in their single-minded focus and deafened by the constant percussion of large water droplets striking the forest floor.
Each hand touches the trunk; the message is identical for all.
“IT IS TIME NAMUH, YOU ARE NOW THIS WORLD’S ONLY HOPE.”
During their approach to the tree, the five individuals remained unaware of one another. But upon realising they are not alone, they move around the massive trunk to see who else has arrived.
Everyone in the group looks at Apollo, who appears to be having a conversation with the air next to the Kauri tree.
Apollo has the physique of a career bodybuilder and stands at an impressive one-hundred and ninety-one centimetres tall. As he speaks into the cool, moisture-filled air, his youthful, light-brown face is pointed almost straight up.
Each person edges closer, except for Sophia, who is now leaning against the tree. Unlike the others, she can hear both parties in the conversation, not just Apollo.
“But I don’t know these people!” Apollo cries in a deep voice, his strong New Zealand accent informing the rest of the group he is a local.
Apollo converses with a Sprite, a forest spirit who oversees the energies within a section of the forest.
A Sprite is the energy being, the soul of a garden, a group of trees, a forest, a tidal current in an ocean, or a section of a river. Normally, the bigger the Sprite, the more area it looks after, and this one is monstrously huge.
Apollo views this Sprite as an extremely large tree formation with an overall humanoid look. The tree trunk splits into two parts, functioning as legs. Many branches protrude from the trunk, but the largest two represent arms; beneath the top leaf-covered branches are the vague makings of eyes and a mouth.
Apollo has grown up with the ability to see these entities, and many others, inside his mind. This ability has brought him tremendous information and ridicule from his family and friends.
Sophia, a very attractive, porcelain-skinned, blonde-haired beauty, can hear the voice of the Sprite as clearly as crystal without seeing who or what is speaking. She says to Apollo, in a heavy European accent, “Just tell them what the fuck you are talking to already. And you had better explain what it is asking of us.”
The rising sun has illuminated the entire area, casting distinct beams of light that pierce through the mist hanging between the trees. The persistent drizzle, responsible for the heavy droplets falling from the canopy, has stopped, easing the downpour and bringing an end to the constant drumming on the forest floor.
Apollo looks at Sophia, shocked that she can hear the conversation. He has never met anyone who can confirm that what he is seeing is not just his imagination. Another person has now validated the entities he sees.
He soon recovers, turns to the others in the forest, and mutters, “Well, you might think I’m crazy, but there is a very large entity in front of us wanting us to work together to direct humanity in a different direction somehow, and it keeps referring to us as the Namuh.”
Brahma, Bollywood movie-star handsome, replies excitedly in a Southern Indian accent, “I do not think that you are fucking crazy at all. The energy signature that thing is giving off is fucking insane. Hi everyone, my name is Brahma.”
Brahma’s one-hundred and seventy-two centimetre frame, slender build, and young, handsome face don’t bother Michael. It is the permanent smile upon his face, his whole mannerism giving off the ‘I want to get to know you’ vibe in a friendly, excited way, that annoys the crap out of him. Michael has no time for adults who act like children.
“Hey, we’ve got Brahmas back home in Texas—only they’re bulls. Where are you from?” Michael says to Brahma.
“I’m from India, the same place as the bulls.” Brahma snaps back at Michael with an even bigger smile on his face.
“Hi, I’m Tara,” an extremely attractive young lady says, stepping forward between Michael and Brahma, then looking directly at Apollo. “I can’t see or hear anything, but I can feel its presence,” she adds, her voice carrying a muddled British accent.
Tara’s very slight build, at just one-hundred and sixty-four centimetres tall, combined with her olive complexion, adds to the beauty of her mild Asian facial features. Instantly shutting down any chance of an altercation between Michael and Brahma, both men feel at ease.
“I also sensed the message that we received when we placed our hands on the tree earlier. Are we all somehow meant to… rectify the world?” she asks, looking to the others for confirmation.
Michael clears his throat, directs his gaze to Apollo, and states in a heavy Texan accent, “We all must have similar abilities. It seems we each know you’re telling the truth.” Michael continues, looking directly into Apollo’s eyes, “Buddy, we don’t think you’re crazy. My name is Michael. What’s yours?”
“It’s Apollo,” he replies.
Michael looks at Sophia, and after a few seconds of admiring the extremely attractive young lady, he asks, “And you? What’s your name?”
“Sophia!” she snaps. She is pissed at what she has just overheard Michael thinking about her. “I hear things that are not there, or so my fucking psychiatrist and family used to tell me.”
“Nice to meet y’all,” says Michael.
Michael’s one-hundred and eighty centimetres of height do not make him the tallest in the group, but he is the embodiment of a ‘natural born leader’ wherever he finds himself. Fast-thinking and fast-talking, he has no problems taking control of any situation.
Michael’s sharp facial features and slender athletic build contort as he struggles with the wetness of every piece of clothing he is wearing. He moves his whole body to dislodge the wet material sticking to his skin.
Michael continues, “I ended up at this spot this morning ’cause of some overwhelming feeling pushing me to be here right now. Best I can explain it—I just had to be here, even though I didn’t know where ‘here’ was.”
He looks at Apollo again and says, “What about you?”
Apollo stands dumbfounded, mouth slightly ajar, staring at the group as if they were an alien invasion force. All five of us have psychic abilities, he thinks.
“Someone told me to follow this forest Sprite,” he manages to get out, gesturing toward it. “My dead uncle Davis introduced it to me in the town just south of here,” Apollo concludes.
Apollo had never heard of his uncle Davis until the previous night. He had finished a job in Auckland the day before and hired a vehicle to drive him to his grandmother’s house in Dargaville. He was in search of his mother, whom he had not seen since childhood, and was hoping to get information from his grandmother about her possible whereabouts.
“I’m like you, Michael,” Tara interjects. “I just knew I had to be here, but had no idea where ‘here’ was. It felt like a pressure on my back, as if something were pushing me forward.
Tara’s face saddens and tears begin to build in her eyes. “It’s similar to the feeling that made me leave home, but that was more of a pull, not a push,” she adds as she rubs the water and tears from her eyes with both hands, trying to compose herself.
Brahma jumps back into the conversation, the same excitement and energy as before. “I track energy-loss signatures from power grids as a job. I can see energy in my mind.”
Brahma pauses, takes a second to assess each of them, then continues. “I saw the energy emanating from this tree on a flyover yesterday. I just knew I needed to see it up close. Then, early this morning, an urgency to return awoke me and I started walking.”
Sophia, projecting both strength and callousness via her facial expressions and body language—though this is more a defence she developed in childhood against new people—says, “I was urged by one of the voices in my head to be here.”
She has been leaning against the Kauri tree for most of the conversation. Now she shifts her weight forward, stepping away from the trunk to get a clearer view of Apollo.
Apollo seems captivated by Tara, his dark-brown eyes fixed on her with a look of quiet wonder.
Tara, sensing others’ feelings, understands that Apollo isn’t trying to be creepy, although it certainly looks that way.
He is unknowingly radiating desire—not the lustful kind that most men and some women project upon meeting Tara for the first time, but something gentler, deeper. It’s the quiet, awestruck yearning of someone who believes they understand what love at first sight truly means.
Tara, too, feels an attraction toward Apollo but understands that now is not the time to act upon it, so she flashes Apollo a radiant smile that almost stops his heart and says, “Do I have something on my face?” She raises her impeccable eyebrows in a questioning motion.
“Ugh, no, I was, I was…” Apollo splutters.
“Don’t worry, that happens to me more often than I care for, but at least you are a gentleman about it.” Tara laughs as she reaches up and brushes Apollo’s left pectoral muscle with her petite left hand.
Michael, still assessing the conversation in his head, asks, “Brahma, what did you mean by a flyover?”
“As part of my job, I cover vast areas every day. So wherever I go for work, there is normally a P.A.V. at my disposal, and I was flying over this area in it,” Brahma replies.
P.A.V. is the acronym for Personal Aviation Vehicle. Companies and people with large amounts of assets use them as personal vehicles instead of road-based vehicles, or in cases such as Brahma’s line of work, where great distances are required to be travelled daily.
The group of five continues the discussion for another thirty minutes on the forest floor before hunger gets the best of them. They follow Apollo, who follows the Sprite, back onto a track that will lead them to the small town of Dargaville, just over six kilometres southeast of their location.
Entering the outskirts of Dargaville, they find a small café. There is little movement on the quiet street—only a passer by now and then—and no vehicle traffic. The road still bears the dampness from the persistent drizzle that had just stopped not long before.
Staff are still setting up the outside tables. Each small square table lowers to seating height via a straight telescopic arm on the underside of the extendable awning that now covers the entire footpath directly in front of the café.
After adjusting each table to the correct height, the arm locks into place with a click, and a staff member sets the four padded cushions from atop each table onto the magnetic seating field. The field, generated via a flooring mat that is a permanent fixture on the footpath, grabs each cushion and holds it in place. The cushions will now only move up or down, depending on the weight of the occupant.
One of the staff acknowledges them and returns to the seating control panel on the touchscreen at the front face of the building, just to the side of the café’s main entrance.
After touching a few icons, cursing, and then touching a few more, Brahma walks over to her, smiles, and asks to have a look.
The attractive, slightly untidy-haired young lady watches as Brahma activates the settings icon on the pad, touches an icon marked ‘Table Setting,’ and slides one table on the screen display next to another.
The two tables closest to the building, at the far end of the awning, magnetically attach their cushions back to the top side of each table, with an increase in height from the magnetic field that has been holding each cushion. It looks like they just flip back onto the tabletop by some sort of magic.
From the table closest to Brahma, the telescopic arm performs a rising arc movement towards the furthest. The seating system activates a four-way knuckle near the top of the arm that allows for exactly one table-space movement in four different directions. Lowering to seating height, it joins the other, a hearty ‘click’ signifying its secure position.
Smiling exclusively at Brahma, bubbly Zoe—as her name badge says—waves the others in under the awning. She then steps quickly towards the now joined tables and throws the plush cushions onto their magnetic seating fields.
Zoe activates the built-in computer within each table by swiping a pass card over the control panel near its centre, causing the café’s menu to flash onto the surface in front of each person.
“Let me know if you have any problems,” Zoe smiles. She then places her hand on Brahma’s shoulder and delicately whispers, “Thank you,” into his ear, her lips briefly brushing his ear lobe.
Now blushing, Brahma selects tea, pancakes, and a cupcake. Everyone else, whilst attempting not to smirk or laugh at Zoe’s blatant show of affection toward him, selects coffee and a ham, cheese, and tomato toasted sandwich.
Tara cannot help herself and says, “Well, Brahma, she obviously likes a man who is good with his fingers.”
They all laugh, including Brahma.
New Zealand is renowned for having the best food on the planet in these drastic climate-changing times because of the early stance it took towards mitigating the effects of climate change. The new strategies implemented within the farming industry have improved not only the quantity of food produced but also the quality. They are all looking forward to another quality meal as Zoe and two other staff members return with their orders.
Before Zoe leaves the tables, Michael asks, “Zoe, what time will the clothing store across the road open?” He points to the Real Kiwi Rural Wear clothing store on the opposite side of the street from the café. He desperately wants to change out of his soaking clothing that is clinging to every part of his body, causing that claustrophobic sensation that he hates so much.
“Around 9 o’clock,” she replies after following the direction of Michael’s pointed arm. Zoe then turns, smiles again at Brahma, and walks back inside the café.
The entire group is buzzing with excitement regarding the experience they have all just been involved with this morning and the discovery of others with similarities to themselves. None of them, except for Brahma, had ever met anyone else with abilities similar to their own. Until now.
Sophia takes a slow, deep sip of her coffee, looks at the cupcake in front of Brahma, then looks at Brahma himself and says, “So I don’t mean to come across as rude, okay, maybe I do, but just how many of us have birthdays today?”
Everyone looks at her, then at each other. Sophia raises her hand to show that she has a birthday, and then each of them also raises a hand.
Sophia had heard the internal thought from Brahma regarding the cupcake being the smallest birthday cake he had ever had, as well as Tara’s constant internal chatter about remembering to call her parents for them to pass on birthday wishes. She was also hoping her father would send her some money as a gift. All of which is why Sophia asked the question.
The thoughts came to Sophia as if she were hearing them being spoken to her, but of course both Brahma and Tara were involved in other conversations and only thinking about what Sophia had heard.
As a child, she would often hear what people were thinking and react to it as if the person were speaking normally. This, of course, scared the hell out of a lot of people, as this sort of thing was not possible. This early childhood education taught her to be guarded around most people.
“What do you think the significance is of us all having the same birthday?” Tara asks everyone.
Michael automatically starts a recap of everything that has happened that day in his head: during breakfast, their prior discussions in the forest, and the hike back to Dargaville. With his near-perfect photographic memory and lightning-fast thought process, it all unfolds clearly in his mind.
Before they discovered they all shared the same birthday, they had only asked each other their ages. They ranged in age from 23 to 27 years old, consecutively. Now they realised there was exactly a one-year age difference between the youngest and the next, and so on. They also figured out that none of them fully understood their abilities or how to use them. Aside from Tara, who was backpacking (budget travelling), they were all financially stable.
Apollo and Brahma both ran successful businesses, Sophia had her family trust fund, and Michael made his money by trading in stocks, currency, cryptocurrency, and NFTs. He always left with more money from games of chance than he started with and did the same with financial trades.
Michael looks at everyone seated at the tables and says, “I got nothing, no clue why we all share the same birthday.” He raises his hands, palms up, to emphasise his shoulder shrug.
Sophia slaps her hand onto the table three times to attract everyone’s attention and says, “Guys, we need to get in a vehicle and go north now. Someone is waiting for us.” No one questions her, as they all feel the familiar push on their lower backs, indicating they must move forward to somewhere they need to go.
Brahma states, “My car isn’t that far from here. We can all fit in. Give me a minute and I will get it to pick us up.” He activates the communicator on his wrist, touches the vehicle icon on the screen, and says, “Come pick me up.”
“I’ve got the bill,” Sophia demands. She touches the wallet icon on her communicator, selects a cryptocurrency account, then activates the automatic currency exchange function, waves her wrist over the table control panel, and settles the whole bill.
They stand at the roadside curb, waiting for Brahma’s vehicle, which is in self-driving mode, to arrive. Because it is only parked two and a half kilometres away, the vehicle’s arrival doesn’t take long.
Their conversation turns to how they all understood they needed to leave as soon as Sophia told them. They do not feel strange or anxious at all. It just seems natural, as if they are all being guided in the same direction by the same force.
Brahma’s car pulls up beside them, and they all climb in. His car is a Toto electric vehicle, the latest four-wheel-drive model with a fold-out camping system built into the roof. This is extremely useful, since Brahma sometimes finds himself in places where accommodation is not available. There is also a P.A.V., personal aviation vehicle, in tow behind the car.
Ever since Toto set up automated battery exchange stations instead of vehicle recharging stations fifteen years earlier, there has been very little competition from other electric vehicle companies anywhere in the world. Even the behemoth Tesla, which had been around for decades, could not compete.
Toto simply started selling electric vehicles without adding the cost of the battery to the price of the vehicle. This made the sales price less than half that of the closest competitor.
They surprised everyone six years ago by introducing their new lightweight gel battery technology. The aviation markets for personal, military, and general aviation quickly expanded, as did the battery network.
Brahma was the head advisor for the development of the gel battery project for Toto while still at university. He continued to receive perks and benefits wherever he travelled around the world. Toto in New Zealand provided him with this car and the P.A.V.
“I see you are in manual driving mode. Why not just tell the car you want to head north?” questions Michael, who has taken the front passenger seat next to Brahma.
“I actually enjoy driving here in New Zealand. There is very little traffic compared to back home,” Brahma replies. “The power cell is low as well, and I think I will top up before leaving town.”
Although Toto's competitors had reduced fast-charging times for their vehicles to just under an hour for a full charge, people preferred the less than five-minute rapid battery exchange system that Toto offered. Not to mention the fact that Toto electric car owners no longer faced the expense of battery replacement every five to seven years, unlike owners of competitor vehicles.
Toto looked after the batteries and charged car owners per kilometre of travel, plus a small annual fee to join the battery network. Depending on the country of operation, the average travel cost worked out to less than ten cents per kilometre. When the average fuel price per kilometre rose to over fifty cents, there was no competition.
After swapping the vehicle’s battery out for a fully charged one, the group travels north on the Twin Coast Discovery Highway for some distance until Tara feels they need to turn.
“Brahma, you need to turn right onto the next road,” Tara informs.
Brahma turns right onto Waihue Road and travels only a short distance before Apollo instructs him to turn left.
Apollo is looking at the spirit of his uncle Davis standing on the side of the road and indicating for them to turn. The top right side of his skull still hangs by the skin, exposing brain tissue. He is still wearing the Mongrel Mob patch on his jacket, which is severely torn.
When Apollo sees a human spirit or an entity, it appears within a window in his mind. The image generated inside this window overlays reality for him, similar to a holographic image projected directly into his field of view. He has seen wonderful sights and some horrific ones.
As Brahma turns onto Maropiu Settlement Road, he notices a very large driveway and instinctively understands that they are meant to go there.
Brahma stops the vehicle outside the front of a sizeable house. The massive front yard is full of blossoming trees and flowers. There are many Māori Pouwhenua carvings, or totem poles, placed in various spots around the gardenscape.
A very tall Caucasian woman with long dark hair opens the front door of the house and gestures for them all to enter. She then turns and re-enters the house, leaving the door open.
Michael knows that there are answers inside. Brahma can see and feel extreme energy emanating from the entire property. Sophia covers her ears. Tara is crying, smiling, and laughing at the same time. Apollo is utterly astounded by what he can see.
Apollo observes entities everywhere he looks: spirits of people, sprites, beings of light, darkness, small-winged beings, massive troll-looking entities, and many other beings he has never seen or even imagined before. Two immense dragons are circling the property overhead, one pitch black and the other a shimmering silvery-white. Apollo is reminded of the way Chinese culture depicts dragons in children’s stories—almost snake-like—with lightning arcing constantly between them.
Apollo feels his mind going into overload; there is immense pressure building within his head. He turns his focus back to the front door of the house and runs for it.
As they all enter the house, they relax. Sophia stops covering her ears, Tara settles down emotionally, Apollo can now only see the others, Brahma senses energy but can no longer see it, and Michael makes a beeline for the room at the end of the hallway.
Upon entering the room, they notice the same Caucasian lady who had come to the front door to gesture them inside. She is now gesturing for them to each take a seat on one of the six large round cushions on the floor around the small but sturdy wooden rectangular table in the centre of the room.
As they take their seats on the luxuriously comfortable cushions, everyone notes the many crystals scattered around the room, different in colour, size, and variety. Several abstract paintings line the walls, and in the far back corner stands an old-style wooden bookcase stuffed full of various books. It is so packed that the bookcase seems to be bulging.
They all settle into the extreme comfort afforded by the cushions as an elderly man, who looks to be in his late seventies or early eighties, enters the room. Walking purposefully, he sits down on the last remaining cushion.
“My name is Douglas,” he says. “Do you understand why you have been drawn here?” he asks. He is Caucasian, of medium build, with a shaved head and clean-shaven face.
Michael is the first to respond, reaching forward and grabbing the edge of the table in front of him with both hands. He says, “We all have only just met this morning in the forest. We know we have something to do together that involves rectifying the world, and that we are being guided by a kind of unseen force. Can you tell us what the hell is going on?”
Douglas sits comfortably on his cushion as he has done many times before, anticipating this very moment. He has his legs comfortably crossed, and his breathing is slow and purposeful. He wears a pair of black shorts, a plain old grey T-shirt, and no shoes.
His wrinkled, kind, smiling face emits trust, wisdom, understanding, and friendship. Every member of the group comprehends that they are about to receive information as to why they have been drawn together to this place—and possibly a lot more.
Leaning forward on his cushion, Douglas places his hands on the edge of the table, just as Michael did. “You are here to learn how to access and utilise the gifts that you have brought with you to this plane of existence,” Douglas states clearly and calmly to them.
Douglas eyes each of them for a second, then continues. “You are all at various stages of development, but it is now time to fulfil your contracts, the contracts that your spiritual selves committed to before your birth on the Earth Plane. Today, on your earthly birthday, you are reborn, Namuh.”
The group sits in astonishment, staring at Douglas, listening to him intently. His voice is calming and invigorating at the same time.
Their bodies are calm, but their minds need more; each of them had felt a wave pass through their being as Douglas had stated the word ‘Namuh.’ It was the same feeling that they had each experienced that very morning when placing their hand upon the Kauri tree in the forest.
Douglas conveys a look of understanding and pride to each as he continues. “For many years, you have all been looking for answers to the reason you are so different from everyone else in your lives.”
“Battling the self-doubt created within your earth being’s programming due to having access to a small portion of the abilities that are yours for the taking. The universe has decided you are now ready for those answers and full access to your abilities. It is my task to guide you to them,” Douglas states.
“How do you know this?” questions Sophia, her scepticism of new people clear on her face.
Douglas, looking at Sophia and smiling, says, “Unlike you all, my communication comes from spirit guides. They guided me to understand this, but each of you knows it to be true.”
Douglas looks over at the tall lady standing at the door, who seems to have reappeared from nowhere, and says, “Just chilled water. Thank you, Mary.”
Mary turns without saying a word and heads off down the hall.
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