Irefertothechildas“it”onlytobegender‐neutral,asitquicklybecameclear thatbothsexorganswerepresent.Buttherewereotheruniquefeaturesaswell, suchascertainmarkingsonthechild’sskin.Thesebecamemoreapparentafter whathappenednext.
Thehermaphroditetoddlerranintotheemergencyshower,whereitmanagedto jumpupandpullthetriangularyellowhandlethatwashangingdownfromthe ceilinginside.Asirenwentoff,thewhitelightcameoninside,andwaterbegan pouringdownonthechild.Ituseditshandstorubthemuckoffofitself.
Thisrevealeditsskin,whichwasdarkandcoveredwithwhatlookedlikestars.
IntheUVlight,thesepoppedoutbrilliantly,sothatitshidelookedlikethesky itself.
Asallthiswashappening,oneoftherobedcelebrants,actingonanodfrom Rosenberg,slammedthedoorshut.Thechildturnedaroundwithalookof horroronitsface.Itbangedonthedoorwithitsfistsandcried.Atthis, everybodylaughed.
Thepersonwhoshutthedoorleanedoverandturnedaredknobthatwasonthe outsideoftheshowerstation,nexttoablueknob,rightwherethewaterwas pipedin.Itseemedhehadturnedthehotwateron,asthewindowbegantofog up.Thewaterwaspoolinguprapidly,andduetothesteam,drippingdownfrom theentireceilinginadditiontotheshowerhead.Thechildbecameincreasingly frantic.Thehotwaterwasundoubtedlyscaldingit.
“Enjoythepurifyingpainofthe NiptronoftheStars,myson,”saidRosenberg, notacknowledgingthechild’sfeminineaspect.“Thisisnothinglikethe Niptron ofEmpyreanfirethatwillsoonbaptizetheentirepeasantpopulationofthis patheticprisonwithitsflamingwisdom.”
Hewalkeduptotheshowerdoorandlookeddirectlyintothechild’seyes throughaholeinthefogthatitspanickedfist‐poundinghadmade.Helaughedat
thepoorthingforanothercoupleofminutes.Thenwhenthewaterwasuptothe child’schest,heannounced:
“That’senough!”
Twootherspulledthechildout,whowasshiveringinshock.Anotherpushedthe dissectiontableoutbetweenthecongregantsandtheGradalis,withthesewing machinestillsittingononeendofit.ThebodypartsthatConsiviahadbeen sewingtogetherweregonealready.
Theothertwoassistantsdraggedthechildoverandplaceditonthedissection tablefacedown.ThentheyhelditinplaceasRosenbergsteppedupbehindit.
ThepersonwhohadbroughtthetableovernowheldoutforhimacanofLyle’s GoldenSyrupandablackumbrella.
Rosenbergdroppedhispantsandslathereduphispeniswhiletheothertwo forcedthechildontohiskneeswithhisrumppositionedattheend.Iturnedmy headawayandshutmyeyes,notwantingtoseeyetanotherchildraped—and thiswastobetheyoungestoneyet.ButMilespushedmyheadbacktofacethe scene.
“Openyoureyes,”hesaid.“OrI’llkillyou.”
Iopenedthem,butpurposelykeptthemoutoffocussothatIwouldnotseethe horrorsinfrontofmeverywell.YetIcouldstillhearthehorriblesoundofthe childscreaming,anditseemedtomethattherapehadalreadybegun.Asmuch asItriednottosee,IperipherallyobservedthatRosenbergwasattemptingto opentherectumwithhisfingerandaglobofsyrup.
Atthatmoment,therewasarumbleinthebuilding,likeanearthquake.
Thediamondnowflippeditselfoverandascendedtotheverytopofthe Gradalis,totheoctagonalwindowintheceiling,whereitfitperfectlylikea puzzlepiece.
ThentheHyperuranianrayscamethrough.Idon’tthinktheotherssawit, becausetheydidn’treact.ButIsawthediamond,afterhavingbeentemporarily red,nowlightupbrighterthanbefore,puttingoutarainbowofcolorsallover theplace.ThefluidintheGradalistookontheappearanceofapousse‐café, stratifiedintodifferentcolors.
NowwhenIsay“differentcolors,”ImeanitwasarainbowofcolorsthatIhad neverseenbefore.Theyweresparklingallaroundmeasthediamondrotated, puttingoutdizzyingflashesthatthreatenedtoinduceaseizureinme.
Butthenthediamondturnedgreenincolor,andswitcheditsrotation.ThelightI sawalsobecamegreeninappearance.Thediamondwasactingasadeckprism onboardaship,amplifyingthelightfromabovethechamber.Icouldtellthatit wasfilteringthislight—lightfromnormallyinvisiblespectrums—intoaform thatIcouldsee,althoughpresumably,theserayswerestillquitedangerous,as theglasseswornbytheotherswouldindicate.Furthermore,whatthenewlight allowedmetoseeintherestoftheroomwasabsolutelyhorrible.
TheghastlycreaturesInowspiedfilledeverysingleinchofspacearoundme.
Therewerethingseverywhere,thingsthatresembledinseveralaspectsliving beings.It’shardtosaywhattheylookedlikebecauseeachonewasdifferent.
Also,youcouldn’ttellwhereoneendedandtheothersbegan.
TheonlyindividualitemsIcoulddistinguishintheroomwerethethingsIhad alreadyseenbeforethegreenlightentered.Everythingelsewasamassof greyish‐green‐coloredslimyflesh,consistingofhundredsofbeingswithblack beadyeyesandlongproboscis‐mouths.Thesemouthswereallbusysuckingon things,mostlyonthebodiesofthepeopleintheroom.Alargenumberof mouthswerealsosuckingfromthehoseshangingfromtheGradalis.
Therewereinsect‐likelegsonsomeofthesecreatures,andtentaclesonothers.
Thesebecameenmeshedwiththoseoftheotherbeingsastheymovedaround theroom,hungrilychasingemissionsfromlivingbodieswherevertheymightbe found.Theseemissionscouldbeseenbymenowasdiversely‐huedjetsoflight streamingoutofparticularpointsonpeople’sbodies.
Inoticedalargeclusterofmouthsaroundthestumpsofmylegs,withlittleblack reptiliantonguesslitheringinandout,lickingatthebloodthathadseeped throughthebandages.Butmore—manymore—weresurroundingthevictimon thetable,screamingandstrugglingasthepreliminariesofitsrapecontinued.
Thoseclosestslurpedeagerly.Manyotherscrushedtogetclose.Whatwas happeningonthattableclearlyputoutanenergythattheyweredesperateto drink.Ishudderedinrevulsion.
They’renotjustinthisroom,saidmytelepathicinformant,nowcrouching beforemeinthedyingbodyoftheFrankensteincreatureinthepitbeneaththe Gradalis. ThesearetheAmaleks.They’reeverywhere,allthetime.Youcanonly seethemnowbecauseoftheHyperuranianlight.
ThenInoticedamessofthesemonsterscrowdedaroundtherearendofthe creatureinthepit.Somewereeatingthebloodfromtheitswounds,andthe afterbirthontheground.Butmostwereeagerlylickingandsuckingat somethingelse:itsvagina.Somethingwascomingout.Ittookamomentforme torealizethattherewasyetanothersmallhumanoidhandemergingfromit,this onecoal-blackskin,butwithwhiteclawslikethefirstchild.
ThegreenlighthadbeenthereforatleastafullminutebeforeRosenberg noticedthatIwaslookingatthingsthatheandtheothers,becauseoftheir glasses,couldn’tsee.
“Whatdoyousee?”Heasked.
Don’ttellhimthetruth! theinformantsaidinmyhead.
WhatshouldIsay? Iasked.
Nonsense,thementalvoicereplied. Distracthim.Singasong.Keephim from hearingtheotherbaby’scries.Thischildisourlastchancetopreventthe collapseofthePillarsofHeaven.
“Whatdoyousee?!”Rosenberginsistedangrily.
Itriedtoclosemyeyestoclearmymindandthinkofsomething.ButMiles slappedmeandtoldmetoopenthemagain.SoIcouldn’tshutouttheimageof alltheseparasitessuckingoffofeverybody,andIjust couldnotthinkof anythingtosay.Nomentalvoicescamealongtorescueme,andIbeganto wonderifmyinformantwasdead,sinceIhadfelthimtobeinhabitingthehead ofPindarthatwassewnontothecreatureatthebottomofthepit,andthat creatureseemedtobedyingasthesecondtwinrippeditswayout.
Pindar’sheadwasgrimacinginpain,butremainedsilent,presumablychoking backthemoanssoastokeep
Rosenbergignorantofwhatwashappening.The baby’shead,however,hadbeguntoemerge,andIknewitwaspossiblethatit wouldbegintoscreamimmediately.IsensedthatifRosenbergknewaboutthe
otherbaby,hewouldkillit,andthatwouldbetheend,somehow,ofan opportunityforEarthtoescapeitsapparentimpendingdoom.
Iwasn’tsurehowitwasgoingtohappen,asmyinformanthadbeenvague.
ButIrealizedthatsomehowRosenberg’simminentsodomizationofthechildof theplanetaryArchonsthathadbeenbornfromPhilippine’sanuswouldcausethe layersoftheuniverse,alreadyunstablefromthesacrificeofmostofthose Archons,tocollapse.
Theycouldperhapsberegeneratedsomehowbythechild,Ithought .But notif thesodomicriteisallowedtocontinue.
IrealizedthatasRosenbergpenetratedthetarget,hewasopeningaportaltothe Hyperuranianrealm,thesourceofthegreenlightIwasseeing.Iknewthatifhe managedtototallydestroythechild’sfundamentwithhispenis,thatwould somehowunderminethefoundationsofourworld.ThenthePillarswould collapseandtheskywouldcomedownonus.
Meanwhile,hewouldhave“suckedup,”inhisownwords,allofthechild’s
“god‐power,”andsomehowusedittoescapethroughtheportaltoahigher realmoutsideofourowndoomeduniverse.There,hebelieved,hewouldbeable tousethe“contracts”thathehadspokenof,givinghimtheright,asheclaimed, toallhumansoulsashisproperty,purchasedbyhisgold.Hethoughtthatthis couldbeusedtoestablishhimselfinapowerfulpositionintheouterrealm,as thelordofeverythingbelow,eventhoughitwould,atthatpoint,presumably,be nothingbutaruin.
Buttherecouldbealchemicalpurposesafoot,Ithought. Perhapsheis transmutingourentireuniverseintosomethingelse,usingitforsomethingwe can’tevenimagine.
TheseweretheideasthatcametomeasIsatstaringatRosenberg,withhim staringatmeindisbeliefovermyinsolence,repeatingthedemandthatItellhim whatIwasseeing.Iforgottolie.ButatleastIonlytoldpartofthetruth.
“ThegreenraysofHyperuranion,”Isaid.Iaddednothingmore.Helaughedand turnedbackaroundtohistask.“Holdhimopen!”hisinstructedhisassistants.
Theybothfrownedatthis,butreluctantlyobeyed,usingtheirhandstospreadthe victim’sbuttocksforhim,whichthegrayish‐greencreatures,invisibleto everyoneelse,lickedatferociously.
“Wellthatlight’sabouttogetalotbrighter.Justtellmewhatyousee.”
Withthat,hegrabbedhispenisagainwithonehand,thechild’sthighwiththe other,andlurchedhispelvisforwardtowardstherearend.Thenoneofhis assistantsdeployedtheumbrellaandhelditupoverhishead,presumablyto protecthimselffromtheHyperuranianrays.
Ifhedoesn’twanttoseethatlight,whydoeshewanttogototheplace whereit’s comingfrom? Iwondered.
Singyouidiot! shoutedthevoiceinmyhead,suddenlyreturning. Don’tlet him gothroughwithit!Distracthim!
“Returnthroughtherectumiseasy!”shoutedRosenberg,pointinghisfingerat thescreamingchildonthetable,justaninchawayfromachievinghisgoalof penilepenetration.“TheDistinguishedCharityofMeteuprootstheenemy!Iam SaturnusStercutusandyouaremy Stercus.Ishallplowyouandthenburnthe fallowfieldswiththe Niptronoffire!”
Thewords“Niptronoffire”remindedmeofsomething.Somethingstupid.
Thishappenstomeallthetime.Evenintheworstsituations,somethingIhear anotherpersonsaywillremindmeofasongwithlyricsthatsoundsimilar.Itcan beanytypeofsong—evenaTVthemesongoranadvertisementjingle.
Regardlessofhowcatchythetuneis,orwhetherornotIlikethesongin question,itwillimmediatelygetstuckinmyhead,ofteninalteredform.My mindwillautomaticallycreateanewversionwithparodiedlyricstofitsimilar-soundingwordsI’vejustheard.
Well,thisiswhathappenedtomeatthatmoment,anditfilledmyheadwiththe lyricstoaonce‐popularsong.Itwasnotmyfavoritebyanymeans,andnotall thatsingableforme,really.But“Niptronoffire”mademethinkofthatsongby thePointerSistersfromthe BeverlyHillsCop soundtrack.Andso,withouta secondtolose,Isangoutloudly,swayingbackandforthinmywheelchairlikea brain‐damagedmoron.
“I’mjustburningdoingthe NiptronDance!”
Thedistractionworked.Rosenbergstoppedwhathewasdoingandturned aroundtofaceme.
“Whatdidyousay?”heasked,confusedandannoyed.Justthen,Iheardthe newborntwincryoutfromthepit.Isangmoretocoverit.
“I’mjustburningdoingthe NiptronDance!I’mjustburningdoingthe Niptron Dance!Hooty‐Hoot!Hooty‐Hoot!”
“What’swrongwithyou?”Rosenbergsaidangrily.Then,hislookchangingto seriousandcurious,heasked“Areyouhearingaradiostationinyourhead?”
ButIdidn’tanswer,Ijustcontinuedsinging.AsIdidso,IsawthatMileshad followedmygaze,andnowsawthebabycomingout,stillcrying.Butinsteadof alertingRosenberg,helookedmeintheeyeforagoodsecond,thenbeganto singalong.
“I’mjustburningdoingthe NiptronDance!Hoohoo!”Aswebothsangthis together,anotherlightenteredtheroomfromabove.Everythingbecame brighter.IcouldstillseetheAmaleksallaround,buttheywerenotasdistinct anymore.IlookedattheGradalis.Thediamondwasclearagain,andrefractinga normalrainbowspectrumofcolors,quitebeautifully,allovertheroom.
Realsunlight! Ithought. SunriseonEaster.Halleluiah!
ButRosenbergdidn’tnoticethiseither,sodistractedwashebyourterrible singing.
“Miles,whyareyoudoingthis?Rosenbergscreamed.Hepoundedhisfistson thetablelikeapoutingchild.“Stopit!I’mlosingmyerection!”
Whilehehadbeenthrowinghisfit,thetwinchildhadfullyemerged,cutitsown cordandwasalreadydrinkingitsfillfromtheGradalis.Ittoohadgrowntothe sizeofathree‐yearold.Andwhileitresembleditsbrother/sisterwithitsdual sexorgans,thecoloringofitsbodywasmuchdifferent.
Itwaspiebald,withonelegandfootblack,theothersetwhite.Thesamewas
trueofthehandsandarms,butthewhiteandblackcolorswereonoppositesides comparedtothelegs.Thetorso,dividedintoquadrants,wassimilarly chequered,aswasthehead.Thewhitesegmentsweremarkedwithblacksun-shapes,andtheblacksegmentscoveredinwhitecrescents.Allthiswasquite visiblebecausetherewasclearlyabrightmorningsunshiningaboveusnow, andalsobecause,whilecoveredinafterbirth,thistwinwasn’tnearlyasmucky asitssiblinghadbeen.
Now,asRosenbergapproachedmeandMilesinfury,withtheumbrella-holder followinghimuncertainly,thetwincamecrawlingoutofthepitbehindhim.But Rosenbergdidn’tnoticebecausehewasfocusedongettingustoshutup.He tookthegunfromMiles,whichitseemedtomethatMilesallowedrathereasily, andthenpointeditatus,repeatinghisdemandforustobequiet.
“Thelightisfryingyourbrains!Staycool!Ineedtokeepfocusedonmytask,”
heyelled.
Ashesaidthis,thetwinranbehindtheGradalisanddisappearedintheshadows oftheroom’smachinery.Rosenbergturnedbackaroundtoreturntohisrectal rapingritual,placingthegunnexttothesewingmachine.Butthenwewere joinedinoursingingbythethreementhatwereholdinguptheGradalis:Paris, ChesterfieldandLeopold.
“I’mjustburnin’doin’the NiptronDance!”theyallsang,completelyoutof sync.
“Whatthefuck!”screamedRosenberg.“Nymphi,singthe Nosiéleeiryk!
Thesefolkswanttohearsomemusic,itseems!”
Theyoungboysintheroomimmediatelybegansinging,inGreekthistime,but backwards.I’mprettysureitwastheGreekOrthodoxversionof Kyrieeléisonin reverse,theundoingofthetraditionalChristianprayerformercy.Thetunewas backwardstoo,probablyaninversionofFranzSchubert’sM
assNo.2,composed forthisprayer.Meanwhile,RosenbergchantedtheSatorSquareonceagain.
SATOR!
AREPO!
TENET!
OPERA!
ROTAS!
SATOR!
AREPO!
TENET!
OPERA!
ROTAS!
SATOR!
AREPO!
TENET!
OPERA!
ROTAS!
Rosenberg’smemberdangledperilouslyclosetoitsdesiredentry‐pointonce again,andwithit,seemingly,thefateofourworldwashanginginthebalance.
Atthatsecond,whichmightwellhavebeenourlastasfarasIknew,the dumbestthoughtevercametome,spawnedbyRosenberg’schanting.
Theonlythingthatcansaveusnowisa deusexmachina,Ithought.
A deusexmachina—a“ghostfromthemachine”—is,ofcourse,atermforwhen dramaticstorieshavethecrisissolvedattheendbythesuddenappearanceof somenewelement,suchasasupernaturalbeingwhosavestheday.Asper example,theflyingchariotsentbyhergrandfatherHeliostorescuethewitch MedeaattheendoftheplaybyEuripidesthat’snamedafterher.The“machine”
inthephraseissaidtohaveoriginallybeenareferencetoacranethatwasused inancientGreekdramatolowerthegodsinthesescenes—orrather,theactors
playingthem—ontothestage.
However,thisisalittle‐knowndetail.Mostpeoplewhousethephraseassume thatthe“machine”isthestoryitself,andIthinkthemeaninghasevolvedto includethat.Itoccurredtomethatthephrase“phantomoftheopera”couldbe reinterpretedtomeanthesamethingessentially,as operaisLatinfor“work,”
andisconsideredsynonymouswith machina. Phantasma,meanwhile,isa synonymof idolon,anotherLatinwordfor“ghost.”IntermsofRosenberg’s presentworking,bothtermscouldrefertohisongoingseriesofrituals,andthe rousingofaspiritthatwouldthendeterminethefinaloutcomeofthe ceremonies.
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