by Jake Packard
“We have been warned so many times before,” Salem continued, “There has not been a nation of people anywhere on this planet, large or small, with many gods or just one, that has not spoken of the universal spirit that lives deep inside each one of us. This one infinite source of life has been blazing since before the beginning of our feeble and inadequate idea of time. But, even so, with every turn of the earth we have been pushing it further and further away with our arrogance. In our insolence, we actually think we can do better. As if the majesty of our creation needed our approval. How dare we? I ask you, can we still not build a tower that reaches the heavens?”
At the bottom of the steps Ibrahim found a spot in the stani front line stalled at the curb and gathered Herbie and Jamal in close. Everyone around them was spellbound. No one noticed the three of them as all eyes were upon Salem. Except for Jamal, who was looking up into the twilight sky.
“We were born into a daunting world, but were given everything we needed to help ourselves grow, be fruitful and multiply, as long as we accepted that we were the children, created by love to give love. But no, we have turned our back on creation and instead we make false gods to worship.
“In the beginning of civilization, we were pagans trying to find order to the chaos, creating a god out of every force of nature we couldn’t understand. As we evolved so did these gods into the oppressive and rigid regimes of the pre-scientific world. Now, after the technology of the last few centuries, we bow down to a religion called the global economy. We choose amongst our favorite gods, be it money, pleasure, power, or fame, but deep inside the false temple of earthly things, we venerate the most insidious god of all to reign supreme, the god of science and technology, and we empower it to forgive us all our transgressions and sins.
“Well I ask you, where are all those gods to which you have built your temples? Let them arise and save you now in this hour of great turmoil and despair. It will take great faith to be able to get back to where science can help save you.”
Herbie knew there was one thing he had to do. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the headbandcam and held it down in the palm of his hand, out of view, not wanting to arouse any attention, for it was his anointed role. Ibrahim scanned the crowd for any sign of danger. Jamal’s eyes were still upon the skies.
“Yes, my brethren, I am greatly pained to the very core of my soul. Here now, standing amongst you with all human life in the balance, my beautiful mother, my earth, lies ravaged and spoiled, and her sons and daughters die daily by violence, leaving widows and children starving and diseased. Yet we still choose not to seek redemption or correction. Nor do we even try to hear the sweetness of the voice that sings within. We have rejected the truth we have always known and have placed science as the obstacle in the narrow path towards faith.
“This is a generation in which evil regales and abounds. We have sickened the earth with poisons and have made it hot and swelter. The oceans rise and swallow great parcels of land, while from the skies great floods and mighty winds bear down upon us. The ground shakes beneath our feet, rocking the very foundations of our lives. Most sadly of all, the devil walks amongst you without fear, claiming your souls for agony on earth, and condemning you to a meaningless and horrible death.
“Every prophet from every age has sounded the alarm, to warn that this evil will befall upon us, our cities will perish and no one will be able to escape. But did we listen? Or did we turn into pillars of salt?”
With one-pointedness of mind, Herbie sought out the receiver. Realizing there was none in sight, he reached for the B string in his other pocket knowing that as an antenna, it could extend the range and possibly find one. Using their three bodies to keep it out of sight from prowling SK eyes, he attached it to the transmitter. Those all-around Herbie, Ibrahim, and Jamal could not see, because they were mesmerized by Salem maybe ten scant yards away in the center of Fifth Avenue, watching his hands reach up to the heavens beseeching the sky.
“Today I see people from all ends of the world who cry unto me saying, surely we have inherited the lies and the sickness and the disease from our fathers? How could our parents deny thee? Hear me, oh spirit of all creation, where may these people now go to know you? I pray they shall find thee, and love thee, and that they shall dwell within your glorious house.”
Pellet turned his back on Salem and screamed out his horror and distress to the Alliance standing behind. “Do you not see? Do you not hear? Does this man not pretend he is a prophet of God? This has always led to religion and wars and untold suffering and death! We must end this now before he can ruin us again.”
Salem hearkened these words and turned upon the General. “This world was not created by religion, General, nor was religion here when it was created. It was lost children of the light seeking shelter in the dark who found only their own ignorance and superstition. It was they who gave us the religion of this world. As if they could announce rules and regulations in order to decide who can join or who to be denied. But there are no rules and regulations you or anyone else can invoke. There are only the unalterable workings of the universe and that which created it. There is only one constant yet ever-changing state of being of which we are just one small part.”
He continued to circle around, looking into the eyes of the people convened on the street, those staring back in wonder from the truth and beauty he possessed, and those scowling in confusion or in anger. Yet he saw them all with only love, and Salem’s face brightened with joy.
“We are such a grand part of the spirit! We are the flower and the fruit at the end of the branch. We have been graced with hands and brains to refashion the bounty provided here on earth. We have been endowed with eyes and ears so that creation can appreciate itself, and our mouths are to sing songs of its wonders.”
Herbie glanced at the tiny blank screen on Ibrahim’s biopod. They were still out of range of a receiver and the world was already at a loss without this, he needed to do something fast. He looked over at Jamal who was still scanning the heavens when a feeling of unfathomable awe grabbed Herbie and filled him up. He gazed up into the fleeting sky with his singular great intuition.
“What have we done with these awesome gifts in the name of religion? Look around you, for the bones of people slaughtered in the name of these false gods are like the sands of the shore that rumble under the waves of a roiling sea. But can we find redemption while those who commit the gravest sins still strut about with nary a thought for absolution? I don’t think so. No, I don’t speak of religion, General; I speak of life! I speak of the one true source, the spirit, the light. It is you and your kind who give us modern idolatry forced upon us by the threat of death.”
The people let out a mighty roar hearing this, those who believed and those who did not.
“Did you hear him? Can we continue to listen to this heresy? We must end this now. We must remove him from our midst!” cried the General.
“Kill him! Kill him!” screamed Gregor, whose eyes were turned up into his head, the whites of which were now black and red and looked as if they were seeing from someplace dark and low. His horde of ignorant and fearful men stamped their feet in approval and shouted. “It is he! It is Salem who now brings us death and despair! Kill him; kill him!”
The multitude behind Salem grew loud and grim. “How base are these men?” they shouted back, “that they cannot see the glory of the new age upon us!”
As the crowds assailed each other with curses and maledictions, each accusing the other of treachery and blasphemy, the Queen of Singapore took a cautious step forward next to the general and turned to all who were around her. “What are we accusing this man of? I see nothing that he has done for which we should take his life.”
But she had to hold her breath and step back as the hordes of nonbelievers shouted out even louder to kill him. As they screamed for his blood, a legion of black-robed wraiths slipped amongst them and spread themselves throughout the crowd, eyeing Salem with hollow socke
ts. When the multitude saw evil in great numbers before them, their cries for justice equaled the shouts for his death, resulting in a great deafening clamor.
In the middle of the cacophony Herbie saw a dim light moving in the sky and Jamal saw it, too. They stood spellbound in this spot at this sight. Herbie knew what was coming and accepted the odds knowing that only he had the power, but from where could that come?
Without any conscious thought, he removed the ring made of copper from his finger and placed it directly under the lens of his headbandcam, to increase the power of the signal to the satellite dying in orbit like a slow shooting star over New York’s eastern sky. Ibrahim and Jamal huddled closely to him and the three became as one. In the midst of the madness on the street they created a space of prayer to transmit the scene through the miracle of Herbie’s identity.
Thus connected, Herbie panned the reckless avenue, holding the headbandcam close to his hip and out of sight from those who would do him harm, and he focused in on Salem standing tall in the middle of the street.
In the helicopter, Maria saw the blank screen snap on with that famous image of Salem, arms raised to the New York City skyline, embroiled in the portentous twilight.
Pellet growled in anger, and the Queen of Singapore in simultaneous astonishment.
Jack put his arm around Gino and uttered a very thankful, “Ah-hah.”
Graced by Herbie’s rising star, every screen, in every village, town and city, on every mountain and valley, on every continent all over the earth, flashed on the picture of Salem at exactly the same instant. With that breathing image now in place for all to see and hear, a heavy silence descended over the angry factions. In that reverent space, came Salem’s voice, so loud and strong and appealing.
“I say to all of you, those who look to me and those who look to kill me. Whether you walk amongst shadows in the valley of the night, or you bathe in the sweet and fresh running waters of the cool mountain stream, you must believe in the light and the spirit from which it comes, and then you shall have the truth.
“It has been said over and over, time and again, love one another as you would love yourself. When we begin to truly do that, we can all be as one. I put forth to all of you today; there is no better place to be, than to be one with that one.
“My brothers and my sisters, rich and poor, old and young, black and white and every race of man, those who follow me and those who want me dead, now as my time draws nigh, from this moment forth and forever, do not ever doubt or disbelieve. Because as I stand before you today, I can truly say that I love you all.”
In the quiescence of that all-encompassing heavenly hush heard around the world, the shot rang out. All the world saw the bullet pierce his heart.
Everything became instantly meaningless. As if all mankind was lassoed by one giant superstring yanking on the mother lode of DNA, coursing it back through its own continuum extending far beyond the physical, and landing it on that sacred crossroad that sets humans far apart from all the other living creatures on earth, turning us now into a different sort of beast.
Everyone, everywhere on earth, for an interminable second, was as one.
Thus wounded, Salem Jones, with outstretched arms, turned his head towards the three who now were so wise straightaway, and he beheld their loving eyes. Peering into the camera that Herbie held in the palm of his hand, he spoke his last words to the awestruck world. “I pray now for the one who comes after me, that if Jesus was the first to die for your sins, let me be the last.”
Blood spouted forth from his body like a fountain from his heart. He collapsed.
The mightiest tumult that ever arose from men broke like a thunderclap over the crowd. Men and women scrambled towards his body, some to administer to it and to venerate it for the ages, and some to defile it and to use it as an instrument of repression and terror. Pandemonium amongst humans exploded, and the madness was all consuming.
In the chaos, Pellet could see that it was Herbie who carried the eye of the world into the midst. Herbie panned his headbandcam back to look for the source of the shot, and every person all over the world saw the smoke coming from out the General’s gun. The barrel rose once more and pointed at Herbie’s chest. Herbie raised the camera to his heart, as if he could stop the shot.
The people of the world watched the bullet burst forth, like it headed between their eyes.
Crack and through the lens.
Herbie crumpled to the ground.
All the screens went dead.
A great battle between men ensued upon this spot, between the armies of the empire, the legions of evil, and the host of proselytes, all who witnessed Salem’s assassination.
Herbie lay on his back on this cold, snow-sprinkled Christmas Day in New York City, his blood making a steaming puddle on his chest. Jamal and Ibrahim looked down; their faces grew dim. A swift white light descended upon him with a roar and a fury.
Then he could not see or hear.
* * * * *
Limitless Grace
“Grandma?”
“Yes, my little Herbie baby boy.”
“Is this what it’s like being dead?”
A soft pause. “Yes, my little rainbow pot of gold.”
“It’s different than I thought.”
“Yes, it is.”
Moving as everything does, he now knows the answers that Grandma never really had to give . . . and the sweet celestial soprano glided up to its tonic and then its fifth, and through its variations and into a crease of light glowing golden bright, and Danielle, she’s pregnant, she’s holding her belly, baby head beneath, she’s abundant, just right . . . and then the great modulation in the universal breath . . . and it’s okay, my Daddy, I’m so glad you’re home . . . and she’s pig-tailed and vibrant and energy pure, and he knew what he’d been missing, can’t hold on even here . . . and Henry smiling with Dolores on his arm . . . shining forth hundreds of generations of identity before. . . and somewhere in the gentle mist Maria is smiling through grateful tears and he wants to reach out and hold her forever . . . the great exhalation shuttles him into the wrinkle where Bullmoose sits . . . strumming his guitar at the juncture of the endless motion of the universe . . . jamming to the melodies of life . . . he looks up at him twinkling and melts into it all . . . and it goes on and on . . . and never the same . . . and always interconnected . . . and nothing happens next when it is always now, in the unbounded glory and the limitless grace . . .
* * * * *
76
“Herbie Lipton.”
“Here I am . . .
* * * * *
* * * * *
September 22, 2069. 6 a.m.
The silver haired man stepped from the shore of the lake, crossed the moist sand, and proceeded with great purpose up the wooded embankment in the chirping forest of colorful songbirds and hidden crickets. The lush moistness of the morning’s dew brushed against his pants and dissolved into the purl of mist clinging low to the ground plants. On his way to the top, he paused several times to look upon the rustic palace he helped build many winters ago.
At the end of the path, the trees give way to the clearing that surrounded the lodge, on which sleek solar panels follow the sun without apparent effort across the expansive blue sky. On the great front lawn, the tribe had assembled. Ibrahim beckoned him with a grin.
Deganawida looked up from his wheelchair, smiling, his spirit as present as the day he was born, his body slipping back to his ancestors. Grand wonder is upon his face, and his wise eyes are fascinated on the handsome youth standing by Maria, his younger sister and brother standing beside him, and Tadodaho, packed and ready to go, towering behind them all.
Herbie walked across the lawn and stood with his wife by his side, and their family, and all the tribe gathered around. He spoke to the young man. “Nothing ever stays the same, my son. The more you grew towards this day, the more your mother and I knew it was inevitable.”
Maria smiles, takes Herbie’s hand, and
pats it. Looking into her son’s eyes she says, “That power you feel growing within, which we see so clearly, is much to be expected, considering your birthright. We had to conceal from the world until now.”
All notice the breeze whistling through the leaves like something new settling in.
“It is time, my son,” Maria said. “They need you now. They all must know.”
Herbie continued. “You see, everything is interconnected in ways so perplexing and intricate, yet so wondrous and pure. Even though you are my son, I am not your father. I am very sure the one who is, is most proud of you today.
“Each one of us can spend our entire life wondering how and why we got to this place in time. But can anyone ever grab hold of a miracle?
“And no matter how hard we continue to try, none of us will ever know what is going to happen next. But I do believe that each one of us is significant, and we can know what is happening now.”
Herbie pulls his old headbandcam out of his pocket. He unfolds it and takes the small copper ring that was nestled inside and slips it over the fourth finger of the young man’s outstretched hand. His son’s green apple tree eyes gleam with pride seeing Bullmoose’s magic ring, the very one which helped open the eyes of the world, and stopped the bullet just enough, so the Iroquois doctors on the chopper could save his step-dad’s life.
The soprano glides up an octave as Herbie smiled into the young man’s sunrise eyes. “Pay heed my son, as you travel through this land of seemingly endless challenge, always seek the light that shines inside to show you the way. Accept the miracle that brought you here. The amazing gift of your life is all the proof you need, there are no limits to the glory and the grace of God.
* * * * *
Jake Packard has been in the creative business all his life. He currently lives and works in the South Florida area. He welcomes you to check out his other books and works of PhotoArt on his website: