51 first division
Having finished their final training session, all of the members of the competing first division were in a very jovial mood. The spirit within that particular company who had performed the sacrificial role, which Ethan would perform for fourth division, walked back to barracks with his unit understanding very little of what was going on. At first, enduring the onslaught of his division had required at least a few hours recuperation time. Now though, he felt increasingly numb to the attacks and his recovery time was almost instantaneous. As he walked he vaguely understood that his division was in a good mood because, instead of cursing and threatening him, they were merely ridiculing him. It was quite a refreshing change.
‘Hey Snab, what is one plus one?’ asked the freshly appointed colonel of the division.
‘One,’ replied Snab tentatively.
His colleagues all erupted into laughter. This was an improvement on the usual course of affairs, so Snab laughed at himself just as heartily.
‘Snab, spell stupid,’ said the first lieutenant.
‘Stupid,’ replied Snab, not having any idea what spell meant.
‘Alright I’ll do it, s-n-a-b,’ replied the genius who had posed the question.
Sympathy and decency could not have been further from the mind and heart of each of his colleagues, who once again burst into fits of laughter. Sadly, there was a time when Snab could have easily answered both questions. That is not to say that he was some sort of genius, but his former level of intelligence was certainly not as retarded as it had now become. It appeared that one of the side effects of repeated spiritual attacks was a permanent intellectual numbing of the victim. Accordingly, Snab had lost some of his intellectual faculty with each attack. Likewise his ability to feel emotions, good or bad, had also suffered. This was perhaps a blessing, considering the regular bullying that he was subjected to.
It had also been discovered, during the course of the attacks on Snab, that the filter that had been provided to Kieran and Johan, to block loathsome images, was not effective for Snab. Hence the numbness Snab now felt was also a protection to him against the heightened suffering he would have otherwise experienced from these torturous images.
The fact that Snab was not immune to the vile images, had been an exciting discovery at the time, and had even succeeded in putting Lucifer in a good mood for well over a day. Lucifer was incredibly pleased as he deduced that the filter must work according to one’s faith and righteousness. This being the case, this shield was not likely to be as effective for those who were not as faithful as Kieran and Johan.
So the reason for Snab's increasingly speedy recovery from the attacks was not to be found in any form of growth, strength or abnormal powers of regeneration. Rather, it was a function of the fact that increasingly he lacked the capacity or intellect to feel anything during the course of the attacks.
Being the inferior amongst his fellows might have been alright had he been in nicer company. Unfortunately though, he was in the worst of company and every opportunity was taken to tread upon him, in preference to aiding him. Whilst this was a terrible plight, ironically the weight of his suffering was lessened by the extent of his retardation. He had simply become too silly to care about the jibes and too numb to feel much of the random attacks that he continued to endure from any within the division who were feeling the need to discharge a little venom.
Snab's appearance had also become far more dull. He remained five foot seven inches tall, of a slim build and with blond hair, but his look had become far more simple than it had been, and even the manner in which he held himself seemed to suggest that he wasn't in full possession of his mental faculties.
As we remember Ethan’s introduction to fourth division, we might recall that it was the sacrificial member of the group who was to be appointed the colonel of the division in the event that he endured his sufferings well. This had not occurred in the case of Snab; it was simply not practical. In the first instance, he no longer had the capacity to manage his own existence, let alone that of a company of spirits. In addition, he no longer possessed any desire to take a leadership position because to do so would require him to comprehend what a leadership position was. So the prospect of his becoming colonel had passed without mention and another worthy fellow had been appointed in his place.
When the division arrived back at barracks, Lucifer was waiting for them, having been apprised beforehand that the division had just completed their training. Seeing his commander, Anas greeted him with a military salute before asking as to Lucifer’s wellbeing, a little nervously, on account of the complete lunacy of his leader.
‘Yes, very well thank you, general,’ replied Lucifer, much to the relief of both generals.
‘We are proud to inform you that first division is completely battle ready,’ said Anas.
‘Excellent! You have both done a wonderful job preparing them so quickly, and it is very timely that they are ready now.’
‘Why is that, Lucifer?’ asked Silick, desperately hoping that his troops may immediately see action.
‘I’ve been a little concerned that we are targeting classes that are ever closer to Father and Mother’s end of the Kingdom. Increasingly we take a risk in doing so, and I would prefer that we had trained spirits to act as the front line in these endeavours, rather than relying on tier three graduates,’ explained Lucifer.
‘You are very wise, Lucifer. I think our troops could greatly strengthen our efforts in those areas,’ replied General Silick enthusiastically, picturing his pupils acting as general enforcers and strong arms for the tier three graduates who were engaged in the proselyting work.
‘To be effective we will need many more divisions. How many more are in training now?’ enquired their leader.
‘We have three more in training and we have identified a fifth division that will be informed of their selection later this week,’ replied Anas.
‘That is not nearly enough; we must quicken our pace!' demanded Lucifer, quickly losing patience and swinging from praise to aggression in the blink of an eye.
‘We know, Lucifer. We will quicken our pace. We are selecting some of our best graduates from each division to assist in training new divisions. This will greatly speed up the work,’ replied Anas defensively.
‘That is good. I appreciate your efforts,’ Lucifer replied with a smile, returning to optimism and praise in a manner so startling as to be of concern to the sane.
Silick was used to this behaviour and didn’t even blink as he was still extremely eager to determine the type of action that his troops would experience.
‘How should I describe the mission to first division? Will they be attacking any spirit who dares to oppose our tier three graduates?’ he asked hopefully.
‘No, not at this stage. We are about to target a class in one of the newer areas and I would like the division to take on this responsibility. To date we have had good success in that particular region by inviting selected spirits into our domain for teaching. By my estimates, approximately forty per cent of this area is now attending either tiers one, two or three of our program. Nevertheless, we have never taught in the region itself and there is definitely the possibility that we will face our stiffest opposition yet,’ advised Lucifer.
‘Are there no attacks necessary at this time, Lucifer?’ responded Silick, clearly deflated.
‘No, not at this stage General Silick, however I will vest in the colonel of first division the authority to order an attack, but only if it is absolutely necessary,’ replied Lucifer.
‘Very wise indeed,’ responded Silick, suitably appeased and not a little excited. He hoped that such an attack would become essential sooner rather than later.
‘If you will provide us with the time and location of the class, we will brief the division,’ stated Anas in his most efficient military voice.
Lucifer provided these details, following which the commanding officers left his presence to deliver the happy news to thei
r graduates.
52 disillusioned
Some weeks later, Madeleine left her drama class in a very black mood, the numbers in that class now having dwindled to a little over a thousand. That portion of Jezebel’s force that had remained in her class had extracted themselves about a month after the first fifteen hundred. They did so under the pretence that they had progressed sufficiently to enable them to do her teaching methods justice.
Madeleine had let them go willingly at the time. In fact, she was quite glad to see them leave. Increasingly, she had found the five hundred disruptive because they seemed to talk more of the rebel cause than they did of drama. After they had gone, she had hoped that things might return to normal within her own class, but they hadn’t. The rebel cause was like a disease and her class had been infected with it.
Madeleine had attended some rebel meetings, and she was an occasional tier two student. Most within her class were far more diligent however, having already progressed to tier three. Madeleine was less interested. While she saw some merit in the proposals, it was drama that absorbed her and nothing could hope to compete with that, good or evil. Now that many of her class was in tier three however, she noted an alarming trend. Each student that aspired to that level began to attend her class less frequently, and many ceased coming altogether. The hold that she had on her students in general also seemed to lessen and they became unwilling to endure her criticism and correction.
In the weeks that had followed Jezebel’s exit from the class, Madeleine had waited hopefully for news that her methods were being well received. Although they increasingly became annoying, the one advantage of retaining Jezebel’s residual force was that she could obtain regular updates as to how well her methods were being received in other classes. Each time she had asked she received an assurance that her methods were being implemented with great success.
Once they had left the class, Madeleine continued under that illusion for some time but still there was no word. Ultimately, she became fearful that her methods had not been accepted. Surely if they had been she would have heard by now. As she walked home from class pondering these concerns, her mood worsened still and she stood ready to tear strips off anyone who made the mistake of crossing her path. Unfortunately for Jerome, he made that mistake by travelling to her abode to see her.
‘Hello, how are you going, Maddy?’ he asked cheerfully enough in her doorway.
‘Alright,’ she responded in a tone that warned him that she wasn’t, as she walked from the entry back inside with her companion following her.
‘How was class?’ asked Jerome foolishly as he helped himself to a seat in her living area.
‘What do you care? You never have the least concern for anything that I do,’ hissed Madeleine.
‘Of course I do. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care,’ he retorted.
‘Yes you would. You like to pretend that you care, as it suits your purposes, but you couldn’t care less if my class just disintegrates into nothing,’ she said emotionally before beginning to cry.
In Jerome’s defence he was at least bright enough to understand that there was no winning this argument. He rose from his seat and moved to comfort her.
‘Oh c'mon Maddy; you’ve just had a bad day. I’m sure there will be better numbers next class, and just think how great it will be when other classes have adopted your methods,’ he said, trying to reassure her.
She allowed herself to be comforted by him on this occasion, principally because she didn’t want to admit that the spreading of her methods may not have been successful. She had spent so much time bragging to him about her success that she now felt embarrassed.
While Jerome may have appeared quite supportive, it was principally because he wanted something. The two of them were due to attend a rebel meeting later that day, and it had been increasingly difficult to get her to come along. That wouldn’t have worried Jerome if Madeleine had allowed him to attend the meetings alone without a fight. Unfortunately for him though, this was not the case and if she didn’t attend, Madeleine ordinarily insisted that he remain with her.
Ultimately he broached the subject with his sweet companion, and with the kind of soft words and kindnesses that were ordinarily absent from their relationship, except when one or other of them wanted something, he was successful in persuading her to attend.
An hour later they sat in a large amphitheatre and awaited the presentation.
At the front a large visual display commenced containing violence, gore, nudity, and sexual misconduct that was far tamer than the program that tier three students were subjected to in their gatherings. Nevertheless, it did the job of dirtying the tier two students just a little more and preparing their minds for a verbal barrage against their parents that was just a little more severe than the previous meeting.
The session proceeded routinely enough and the beginning wasn’t too different from the previous presentations that each attending spirit had heretofore encountered. The presenters droned on about how hard done by each of the attending spirits had been, and the scarcity of recognition that they had received for their stupendous efforts. It would appear that some idiots will listen to any garbage so long as it elevates them without merit and incorrectly excuses them for their shortcomings, that room being full of those who far preferred a gentle falsehood to a hard truth at appraisal time. So although the session was entirely predictable, it was totally enjoyable for all but one of the attendees.
Madeleine couldn’t be bolstered, however. She barely concentrated on the presentation as her thoughts were upon the state of her class. Not to worry, something would soon capture her attention. After three successive speeches that would have sent brighter and more humble spirits into the first slumber ever experienced within the Kingdom, the enthralled crowd was on the edge of their seats and thirsty for more. At the conclusion of the third speech, the deceitful orator concluded with the following remarks:
‘And now, my fine spirits, we have for you a very special treat! I’ve no doubt that you must have been wondering, as you attended each session, just who has been responsible for formulating such a brilliant plan.’
There was a general murmur of agreement that came from a crowd which was made up of the few who truly had wondered, and the rest who didn’t want to admit that such a thought had never hatched within the rock hard matter of their mind.
The lying fraud continued, ‘It has been very important for us to protect their identity until now. You can just imagine how these brilliant masterminds may be cruelly punished by our parents, were they to get wind of those responsible for formulating a plan that is superior to theirs in every way. Thankfully though, we are now satisfied that each of you is bright enough and wise enough to recognise the brilliance of their plan. We also believe that you are discreet enough to be entrusted with the identity of some of this Kingdom’s finest.’
Ironically, each of the attendees had only ever been provided scant details of a plan that was wildly incomplete. Somehow this didn't seem relevant to the mental giants in that room.
Were Michael and Rachel in attendance, it is sure that their snore would have disturbed a room quiet with anticipation. If ever there was scientific proof that small things amuse small minds, this gathering was it.
We jest about Michael and Rachel’s slumber of course. Michael could only afford to snooze if there was a room full of intelligent spirits who would likewise be bored by the predictable flattery and monotone falsehoods of the benighted speaker, and would have joined him in his slumber. The frightening thing is that the room was full of those who actually listened and believed. This would have disturbed Michael and Rachel no end, and snapped them into action in the same way that Samuel was snapped into action by Anas.
That encounter between Samuel and Anas wasn’t so long ago but now it appeared to be ancient history, on account of the degradation that had occurred within the Kingdom since that time.
The insincere puppet master continued on this merry way,
somehow managing to build anticipation and intensity where none should have been forthcoming.
‘There are four magnificent spirits who are responsible for our plan. Our esteemed leader will be introduced to you later, once you have progressed to tier three, however I do have the privilege of introducing you to his three counsellors,’ shouted the liar enthusiastically.
To this there was raucous and unruly cheering, that went on for some time.
In addition to protecting Lucifer’s identity, delaying the time at which he would be introduced to the gathering until tier three was an important way of keeping the carrot upon the stick.
Eventually, when the noise subsided, three counsellors where introduced. First Troy, to shouts of acclamation, then Ham, to a similar racket and finally Jezebel was introduced to the frenetic crowd. As Jezebel was presented every spirit in the room cheered and screamed save one.
Madeleine’s mind was racing as she replayed the recent scenes from her class. She was considering the coming and going of Jezebel, and her friends, and the way in which they had promoted the rebel cause. She contemplated the fact that her students had increasingly attended these gatherings, and had ceased to attend her class, and very quickly she realised that she had been had.
Madeleine had many weaknesses but, unlike so many of the crowd in that room, she was not entirely stupid. It was probably for this reason that these sessions didn’t appeal as much to her as they did to the other knuckleheads in attendance. Madeleine stared in disbelief at Jezebel, a soul whom she had previously liked and respected, and hated her.
Premortal Page 19