Chapter 4
Emblem
Tuesday, February 3, 2 N.A.
Babylon
Decker Hawthorne sat at a corner table in the new UN dining room. Looking up from the empty plate where once there had been a Belgian waffle and lots of bacon, he saw Christopher coming toward him, smiling. “Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Had a donut in my office,” Christopher replied, and then got straight to the reason he was there. Still standing, he leaned down over the table. “Would you like to see the secret of eternal life?” he whispered.
Decker raised his eyebrows. “The communion?” he asked.
Christopher nodded secretively.
“I already know about it,” Decker shrugged, feigning disinterest.
“What? How?”
“I was once a reporter, you know.”
Christopher pulled out a chair and sat down, looking a little deflated. “I thought it was such a well kept secret,” he said, shaking his head. “We took every precaution.” For a moment he stared at Decker, and then they both smiled. “So how much do you know?” he asked.
“Everything,” Decker began, but then admitted, “Not that much, really. I know that there’s a big hush hush project going on at WHO,” he said, referring to the World Health Organization. “My guess,” he said, studying Christopher’s face for a response that might confirm his suspicion, “is that WHO has been working on something similar to what your Uncle Harry was doing before he died, and that’s why they were first to move into the new UN complex.”
“You’re pretty close,” Christopher said. “But what Uncle Harry was working on was actually far more complicated.”
“Tell me,” Decker urged, leaning forward and finally showing how interested he really was.
“I know it’s been a while,” Christopher began, “but do you remember when we were at the refugee camp in Pakistan?” Decker nodded. “I was in my tent and you came looking for me. When you found me, I told you that I had seen the death of one who sought to avoid death’s grip.”
Decker nodded. “That was the day Jon Hansen died.”
“But there was someone else in my vision,” Christopher reminded him, “one who sought to accept death’s release.” Christopher shrugged and shook his head as he spoke. “I really didn’t understand it. If you had asked me at the time, I’m not sure what I would have said, but I understand it now. It was John.
“I told you that when I was crucified, John was the only one of the apostles who was there. At first I thought he had come to ask forgiveness, but of course, he hadn’t. But neither was he there just to mock me,” he said. Then though it might have seemed he was changing the subject, he asked, “Do you recall the legend of the Holy Grail?”
“Sure,” Decker answered. “It was supposed to be the cup that you used at the Last Supper. I remember reading stories when I was a kid about the Knights of the Round Table going on quests to find the Grail.”
“One of the legends,” Christopher explained, “says that when John came to the cross, he brought the Grail with him.”
Decker thought for a second. “I do remember something about that,” he said slowly, trying to awaken any additional recollection of the matter. “The legend was that John collected some of your blood in the cup.” A long forgotten memory began to make its way into Decker’s consciousness. “According to the legend,” he continued tentatively; and then suddenly he was struck by the connection to the current conversation. Had he not already been sitting, he would have done so now. “According to the legend,” Decker began again, “if anyone drank of the blood from the Grail, he would have eternal life!”
Christopher nodded, both confirming Decker’s recollection of the legend and implicitly confirming his realization of the larger point. There was no need for anything nearly so complex as the genetic engineering on which Professor Goodman had been working. The secret of eternal life that Harry Goodman sought was attainable by simply ingesting the blood.
“Somehow John knew that by drinking the blood, he would gain eternal life,” Christopher concluded. “I suppose it was part of his bargain with Yahweh.”
“But in Pakistan you said John ‘sought death’s release.’ That makes it sound as though he wanted to die.”
Christopher shrugged. “I suppose that after two thousand years, he was simply tired of living. He certainly didn’t do anything to avoid his death in Jerusalem.”
Decker considered what Christopher said and then returned to the more pressing topic. “So if the benefits of the blood are gained by drinking it, what about Milner?” Robert Milner was now in his mid nineties but appeared no older than Decker, who was seventy-one.
“Apparently it can either be ingested or transfused,” Christopher answered, referencing the time fourteen years earlier when Robert Milner, then on his deathbed, had received a transfusion of Christopher’s blood. “It’s rather puzzling why it works at all, but with what we knew about its effect on Robert Milner, we had to pursue it. Originally, it was believed that injections would be more effective, thus requiring a smaller dosage than with oral administration. But by adding a new genetically designed absorption agent to the blood, WHO found that two average sized capsules taken orally were as effective as a 50cc transfusion.”
Decker shook his head in amazement. “Sort of a ‘take two capsules and you’ll never need to call me again in the morning’ approach,” he said, unable to resist the joke.
Christopher laughed. “I guess you could say that. A week after taking the capsules, the human immune system grows incredibly robust and resilient. Within a month, the body is entirely immune to all bacteriological and viral disorders. Preexisting illnesses wane and then disappear altogether.”
“You’ve begun human testing?” Decker blurted.
Christopher nodded. “Of course, the communion can’t prevent injuries,” he said, continuing his train of thought. “It won’t keep you from breaking your leg or cutting yourself, but the healing is vastly accelerated.”
Decker leaned back and exhaled audibly. “This all sounds fantastic,” he agreed. “But isn’t it going to be a little hard on you to be donating all this blood?”
“It won’t be coming directly from me,” Christopher said. “WHO is cloning the blood from a sample.”
“Of course,” Decker realized. Then, deftly turning the discussion to a facet of the subject he had been considering for some time, he asked, “Is it your intention that the communion be given to everyone?”
“Of course,” Christopher responded.
Decker chose his words carefully. “But why should we provide the communion to our enemies: to the KDP and the fundamentalists?”
Christopher thought for a second and then Decker answered his own question. “You know that ultimately they’ll die without it.”
His expression indicated that Decker’s assumption was correct.
“But if you allow the KDP and their fundamentalist supporters to take the communion,” he reasoned, “you’ll be giving Yahweh a foothold, not only in this century but in all the centuries to come. You’ve bent over backwards to accommodate the KDP, but not a single one has joined us. What hope is there that they’ll ever change? I think the time has come to allow them suffer the consequences of their own choices.”
Christopher started to respond, but Decker continued. “Those who oppose you are remnants of the old age. Why not allow them to go their own way? Wipe the slate clean. Reboot the system! When they’re reborn they’ll have no memory of what they were or how the world once was. They’ll be born anew, leaving behind all of their old prejudices and their learned ignorance.” Decker was a little surprised at how much he was sounding like Robert Milner.
“If you look at it that way,” Decker contended, “it’s obvious you’re not helping anyone by giving eternal life to people who aren’t ready for the New Age from which that life comes.” He took a breath, and then concluded his argument, “Let those who are bound to the old age die with the o
ld age, so that in their next life they can truly live.”
Christopher thought for a moment. Decker’s logic was indisputable and he wouldn’t deny it. “You’ve been reading too many of your own speeches,” he said finally.
Decker smiled, but that wasn’t the response he wanted.
“It’s an interesting idea,” Christopher shrugged. “But I can see some problems. We can direct the clinics not give the communion to the KDP. That’s the easy part. They’re pretty hard to miss. But how would you prevent their supporters and the fundamentalists from receiving communion? They look like everyone else.”
“We need to make it so they’ll want to stay away.”
Christopher looked puzzled.
“We use their beliefs to make them not want the communion.”
“I don’t follow you,” Christopher replied.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Decker said.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
Decker smiled. “The book of Revelation says that those who follow the Antichrist will be required to take a mark on their forehead or on the back of their right hand.”[51]
Christopher nodded. “I’m familiar with the passage,” he said.
“We can use that to our advantage. If we require anyone who takes the communion to also take some kind of a mark, then the fundamentalists won’t dare do it for fear of angering Yahweh. It’s just my opinion, but it seems to me that the communion should be given only to those who are willing to pledge their loyalty to you and what you stand for.”
Christopher appeared to be giving the proposition some serious thought. “So, how exactly would you apply this mark?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t think we want anything too conspicuous, and I doubt that anyone would really want to have something tattooed on their forehead, but we should offer the option so it will match the prophecy and keep the fundamentalists away. It needs to be permanent, but it should be as painless as possible. I’ve been doing some research and it turns out that very few tattoos are done using needles any more; most are done with permanent dyes that soak deep into the flesh so they don’t wear off.”
“And I suppose to keep the fundamentalists away, it’ll have to depict either my name or the number 666,” Christopher said, cringing.
“That’s what everyone is expecting,” Decker acknowledged. “The KDP have made a big deal of the fact that when your name is written phonetically in Hebrew the sum of the letters equals 666, so I guess that makes it the natural choice. It’s a lot shorter than writing out your whole name.”
Christopher took a breath and let out a deep sigh. “Let me give it some thought,” he said. “I’ll ask Bob Milner to look into what would be required.”
“Great, that’s all I’m asking,” Decker answered, confident he had presented his argument with undeniable logic.
“Now,” Decker said, as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “When you came in here, you asked if I wanted to see the secret of eternal life.”
“Come with me,” Christopher answered.
Decker followed Christopher from the dining room, down two long halls, to an elevator. He quickly guessed they were headed for the World Health Organization.
Inside the WHO facilities they passed numerous offices and came at last to two armed guards at a secure door. Christopher placed his hand on the reader, spoke his name, and the door opened. Inside, Decker expected to find a laboratory with dozens of WHO personnel busily running tests or engaged in discussions on the best methods for cloning Christopher’s blood. What he saw instead was immeasurably more striking. Beyond the door was a refrigerated warehouse full of pallets stacked high with boxes.
Christopher pulled back the top of a box and held it open for Decker to see. Inside were thousands of blister packs, each bearing two capsules filled with a thick red liquid. The entire warehouse was filled with Christopher’s blood.
Chapter 5
Communion
July 4 was chosen as the day for the communion to begin. The selection was largely symbolic, being the day that was best recognized by the world as representing a day of independence. Centuries earlier it had marked the declaration of America’s independence from the tyranny of Britain’s monarchy; now it would mark the independence of Humankind from the tyranny of Yahweh. The date was also chosen as a matter of coincidence — it being the approximate date by which adequate supplies of the communion blood could be distributed to the nearly twelve thousand clinics around the world.
The decision to limit distribution to those who swore allegiance to Christopher and the advancement of Humankind necessitated significant security measures. Doctors, nurses, medical technicians, and support personnel having any access to the blood supply first had to be cleared of any connection with the KDP and the fundamentalists, and then had to be trained to apply the mark. They also had to swear their own allegiance to Christopher and receive both the communion and the mark themselves.
People began lining up at the clinics three full days before they were to open. By July 2 the lines stretched for over two miles at some clinics. In part, the long lines resulted from stories in the media about those who had already received the communion. Most had nothing unusual to report beyond a general feeling of good health and well-being, but among more than 80,000 health care workers, it was inevitable that a few would experience more dramatic benefits. In one such case, a few days after receiving the communion, a medical technician had been severely injured in a car accident. Three days later, he was out of the hospital, his injuries completely healed. A janitor who had been deafened by the sonic blast of the first asteroid regained his hearing. In another example, a nurse who suffered from advanced osteoporosis was able to stand fully erect just weeks after receiving the communion, her bone structure entirely restored. Others were healed of diabetes, hypertension, and other non debilitating maladies.
The lines at the clinics were also due in part to the psychic powers and abilities that had begun more than a year and a half earlier. By now nearly everyone had experienced some type of psychic episode, many more than once, but in every case these powers were short lived. Everyone longed to extend the experience, and the communion offered the hope that they could possess those powers forever. Christopher’s promise of eternal life involved far more than just avoiding death: It offered the opportunity to grow and to evolve to a future of limitless possibilities.
Thursday, July 2, 3 N.A.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, near Independence Hall
Still two days before the clinic was scheduled to open, 4,000 people waited in line. Many brought lawn chairs, blankets, umbrellas, and coolers to make the long wait as pleasant as possible. The street vendors gladly accepted the challenge of keeping up with the demand for food and drink, and the city brought in portable restrooms. Most who came respected the queue, falling in at the end of the line, but there were a few fights. All in all, despite the Philadelphia summer heat, things were pretty calm.
Then, as had happened on two previous occasions, a small pulsating white light appeared above the crowd. Everyone knew what it was, and even though neither of the two previous angels had done more than make their pronouncements, it was an awesome and unnerving sight, and many forsook their place in line to seek cover. The angel’s voice boomed:
If anyone worships the beast and its image and receives its mark on their forehead or on their hand, they, too, will drink the wine of God’s fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. They will be tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment will rise for ever and ever. There will be no rest day or night for those who worship the beast and its image, or for anyone who receives the mark of its name.[52]
As with the first two angels, the third delivered its message, vanished, and then appeared and repeated its missive around the world.
Also, as before, Christopher responded quickly. This time, however, the air of incredulit
y in his words was palpable. “Twice before,” he began, “Yahweh has used his messengers to make his heinous threats, and each time the calamity he promised has failed to occur. The KDP and the fundamentalists warn that these things will yet befall us. But it is with their dire predictions of the future that they hope to draw us back into our past, a past in which there is only death for the human spirit. Now, as Humankind is poised to take its first step into the realm of immortality,” he continued, “Yahweh has reverted to cries of hellfire and damnation! But he does not frighten us! Our hearts are steady and strong and bound for the future!
“We will not, we cannot, indeed we must not capitulate to the demands of those who would drag us with them to worship a failed deity! We must forge our own course onward to the future!”
It was quickly apparent that Christopher’s words had had the desired effect, as the lines at the clinics grew at an even faster rate.
Saturday, July 4, 3 N.A.
Babylon
“Protests by fundamentalists turn violent, marking the first day of the communion.”
“Snooze,” Decker mumbled.
“Good morning, I’m Amelia Witherspoon and this is World News This Morning.”
“Snooze,” he said again, a little louder.
“What started out as peaceful protests—”
“I said: Snooze!” he growled as he covered his head with the pillow. This time the clarity and volume were sufficient to register his command and to shut off the screen. Some people liked to wake up to music or chimes or buzzers, others to recorded sounds of nature. Decker found live news programming to be most effective.
“No, wait,” he said a second later, as the news anchor’s words finally sank in. “I mean, live-net on!” he shouted, as he quickly sat up to see the screen. The program came back to life.
The Christ Clone Trilogy - Book Three: ACTS OF GOD (Revised & Expanded) Page 8