by Lee Baldwin
“Yeah, what do you make of this girl’s shirt? Eh, hold it Chasm. We have a caller on line one. Hello, Shanna, you’re on Take Your Medicine.”
“Hi Carson. They programmed you quite well this evening.”
“Well, they brought us a live one. And thanks for faking that orgasm with my screener.”
“Think nothing of it. His ego needed buffing.”
“Ego,” Chasm cracks. “Is that the technical term for knob?”
“Most males keep them in the same place,” Shanna quips. “But seriously, Carson, “I’m a professor of Women’s Studies at a private college in Pennsylvania.”
“Ah, so you’re calling about the Goddess Culture thing, I would guess?”
“Yes Carson I am. I find that girl’s shirt refreshing. It reminds me there’s a new love of the feminine divine in women whose spiritual experience has been focused on male gods and male supremacy by the patriarchy. I wonder if her message is some harbinger of third-wave feminism, an emergence of the long-awaited goddess that can give the whole society, not women alone, a fresh start at accessing spirituality, and social integration.
“Religious symbolism anchors our thinking, and the effect on women of patriarchal godhead as the foundation of the spiritual cosmos produces a distorted message. The subtext to patriarchal religion is worship of the male, not worship of God. It is exclusive, not inclusive, and perpetrates the patriarchal myth.”
“Well,” Chasm throws in, “if it’s a patriarchal conspiracy, why then is the feckless semi-competent father such a fixture of television shows?”
“Good one, Mr. Chasm,” Shanna rejoins. “That shows you that social symbols are as distorted around the male as the female. Once people generally accept that certain tropes exist, they act like any self-serving human in taking advantage of the system. Goddess Culture is a breath of fresh air for the society.”
“Tell me where can I get that shirt,” Mindy says.
“Well the size that girl is wearing won’t fit you,” Carson quips.
Mindy looks down at her ample bosom with a coquettish smile.
“Well that focuses you on the wrong…” Shanna begins.
“Ah,” Carson says brightly, “our floor director tells me she’s found the website. I’ll put it up on the screen.”
Shanna tries again, “I really think that is a distraction, the important issue here is understanding the message, not acquiring the shirt because…”
Chasm laughs, looking at his phone. “I just got tweeted the link to the T-shirt store. I’ll re-tweet all my fans.” He lifts his phone toward the room to solid applause. The studio cameras pan over the audience, many of whom likewise hold their luminous screens aloft, with images from the T-shirt shopping cart. Far from studio cameras, the gesture is repeated untold numbers of times in bars, workplaces, clubs, homes, workout centers and lonely rooms.
“Religion has a powerful hold on the psyche,” Shanna goes on. “Women must own it equally, not leave it in the hands of father figures. Even agnostics and atheists are affected, because outside of religion, patriarchal religion, the concepts are institutionalized by society. It looks innocent enough, but symbolism of God the Father is pervasive within the psyche. Religion fulfills such deep psychic needs. A father-figure as godhead is a bait and switch. Rejecting such symbolism on a conscious level is ineffective. Deeper symbolic meaning must replace it.”
“Of course you mean, replaced by a goddess,” laughs Chasm. “It goes against my nature as a superior male but I agree that God the Father is an unfair advantage in the battle of the sexes.”
“Great point, Chasm, it’s a powerful reason that patriarchal societies condition women to accept men as superior.”
“And vice versa. But I always prefer being on top.”
Carson Johnny breaks in, “We’ll be right back after this message from Mother Superior Bondage Warehouse.”
Laughter, applause, station break.
In the hours and days that follow, trash-o-rama blogs and supermarket tabloids have a field day with images of Lian and Tharcia from Pentagon Security. They pose her on their covers in Goddess Culture T-shirt with Lian as the winged lizard, the emblazoned headline, I’m having his baby!
Others less subtle offer supposed ultrasound images showing nine small demon fetuses in utero. They augment Tharcia’s face with vampire fangs and reddened eyes, Photoshop her with head turned backward on a body with beach-ball breasts. Images of Tharcia sunbathing on the Riviera in a white bikini and distended abdomen, Devil-Ho Terrorist Romps in Third Trimester. They have a wonderful time with it, sales go berserk. Articles predicting the birth of thousands of Devil progeny and the coming Rapture attract wide readership, become the topic of radio talk shows across the Midwest. Everyone has a wonderful time being afraid.
Quantum Spirit
Tharcia paces back and forth, speaking to Lian with agitated gestures. “I don’t believe people are evil until proved innocent. People should be saved until they decide otherwise. Religion gives us the devil instead of God. Just for crowd control.”
“Ouch,” Lian says. “That hurts my feelings.”
“Threats of punishment, promises of salvation. What is that? Carrot and stick. Little kid stuff.”
“You can change that.”
“Change the Church? No way dude.”
“The future is a field of possibilities. You just have to imagine the right ones.”
Tharcia stops her pacing, sits beside him with a quizzical expression. “Imagine the right what?”
“What you don’t understand about beings of Spirit is that we are not fixed to any point in time. Or to any point in space, or any reality for that matter.”
“Lylit said.”
“Did she explain fully what it means?”
“She said she could go watch her own death, or anywhere else in history or the future.”
“True. But did she explain how the universe works, why spiritual beings are different?”
“No.”
“You have no doubt heard of quantum physics, whether you have studied it or not.”
“Heard the name.”
“It is all about probability. Subatomic particles are not hard little dots, they are potentialities. They can exert a force, but they cannot be said to be here or there.”
“Mm.”
“Spiritual beings know how to manipulate those probabilities. In so doing, they determine where and when they will be visible, where they will ‘be.’
“So give me a demo. Let’s see you travel.”
“You’ve seen me as a dragon. That is only one of my full forms.”
“We can give that a skip.” Lian’s winged lizard guise terrifies her. The mental image reminds her she’s on a hurtling train headed down. Down.
“Alright, try this one. Put your hand on my shoulder.”
Tharcia reaches a hand to his rounded shoulder. It passes right through, she can see a ghostly image of her fingers inside him. She jerks her hand back with an abrupt cry.
“Lian! What was that?”
“You’ve heard it said no doubt that an atom is mostly empty space. The force that communicates touch is based on the probability that an atom might be in a location. Fully conscious beings are able to manipulate atoms and reduce that probability to zero.”
For once, Tharcia has nothing to say.
“Look over there.”
She follows his gesture. On cue, another Lian, dressed the same, appears striding along a walk. Three steps behind, another materializes and strolls along. Though identical, they are not doing the same things. Their heads move differently, their arms. Another appears, another Lian, moon-walking backward.
“These are appearances I am making, by manipulating the probability that atoms are in certain places or not.”
He turns to her. “Try this,” he says. He extends an arm toward her. She expects he will touch her somewhere in the middle of her tummy. But his hand passes completely into her abdomen. She feels nothing
, but the look of it startles her and she jumps off the bench. Holds both hands over her middle, breathing raggedly.
“Just so you know what you’re dealing with. Why those weapons can’t touch us. They have no idea that time is being manipulated.”
“Don’t do that anymore I get it!” Thinking about it makes her shiver.
“Sure. Sorry. You needed to be shown.”
“Lian help me! I don’t want to do anything stupid. I feel like it’s going bad. Can you help?”
“Alright. I’ll give you a little hint. Start with gratitude.”
“Explain.”
“It is one simple word. Look it up.”
“Don’t stiff me, dude. Spill.”
“Very well. When you feel gratitude, express it with clear intention, the entire being resonates. All the cells of body and mind. The organism becomes more balanced. A being in a state of gratitude connects to all that is. A grateful mind stands at the threshold of sharing.”
Tharcia recalls things Clay has said to her, lessons learned from quieting his mind while he was in prison.
“You need to tell me what you want, Tharcia.”
She takes a deep breath, relieved to be on known ground. “I did think of one thing. Make people stop hurting each other. But I need to think on that for a while, there’s more I want to ask for. And I need to take a shower, eat, and change clothes.”
“Okay, done. You now have a passenger. You can come and go anytime you like.”
“Passenger?”
“One of my associates, to look out for you and make sure you don’t try anything weird.” Lian smirks. “Weird-er. Think of him as a pager. Name’s Vardøger.”
“Where the hell would I go?”
“Exactly.”
Really Pissed at Her
According to ancient rules, a supernatural being while held captive in a pentagram will never let a petitioner out of its sight until the bargain is sealed. Lian bent this rule when Lylit informed him she was taking Tharcia out for some needed girl-talk. Tharcia’s first words when she becomes oriented to their new surroundings are few and to the point.
“Lylit, I am really, really, really pissed at you.”
Not far south of Santa Cruz, Lylit, as Lillian in the Cynthia Mullen avatar, walks with Tharcia along the sands of Rio Del Mar beach. People with dogs walk briskly this cool sunlit morning. Near the shore, dolphins swim. To their north along the coast a sunken concrete barge awash in surf stinks with decades of seal and bird droppings. Shortly after Lillian and Tharcia arrive, the sea breeze swerves north. It now blows the stench away.
“Call me Lillian. Tharcia, can you tell me more about that?” The face that regards her is soft, full-lipped, framed in dark hair. Tharcia firmly tries to avoid looking too long. Stoplight of her heart is green. If things weren’t so weird, if she were not so angry, she would like to kiss this woman’s mouth. Hard and for a long time. She has been feeling ravenously itchy in that direction since she got out of bed. When, three days ago? She’s certain Lian could not be more mistaken about her liking for girls.
Sparkling waves crash, Tharcia ignores them. “You used me! I had a perfectly innocent thing going, to contact my mom. It would not have worked. Lian says so, Father Tilton and Althea too. I would have gone on to something else. But you perverted it into this huge production number that is totally about to fuck me. And the world with it! I now have to make this bargain that will end when I go to hell with your goddamned boyfriend!”
Lillian stops, puts a hand on Tharcia’s arm. The dark eyes are warm. “Thank you for telling me. You’re right, I have changed the outcome. But it really started long ago, before you were born. Look, suppose you turn it into a bet?”
Tharcia twists away and walks faster. “Don’t change the subject! All this chaos out there now is because of you.”
“Hear me out. There is a way to fix it. You have to do the bargain with Lian, this for that, quid pro quo. But what if you couch it all in a wager? If you win, Lian pays all the consequences. You get your life back.”
“A bet? Oh fat chance I’d win against some supreme angel.” Tharcia’s voice is flat.
“Cheer up, Tharcia. I’m in this with you, but I have many things to keep in balance. I do want to be with him, we were created to be together. Now we are, thanks to you. It’s a luxurious feeling. You brought him here. I owe you for that.”
Tharcia looks at Lillian solemnly. “I thought you were safe when you were my second soul.”
“I was. I am so grateful, it cannot be expressed. But I had to stay completely quiet. I wanted to be out! In the world, like you. Lian’s arrival made that possible.”
“Ah.”
“So look. Everyone who makes a bargain with Lian wants something for themselves. Purely. Most of them are male. You thought of the whales, then the animals, then every living thing. You asked for people to become responsible. That is healthy. If you want people to be responsible, why not leave it to them to decide?”
“Everyone?”
“Sure. Like a vote.”
“Like, ballots and stuff?”
“Ah! You have come upon something that is in my court exactly.”
“What?”
“Dreams.”
“I hope that’s what this is so I can wake the fuck up.”
“Don’t lose hope, Tharcia. I happen to be quite adept with dreams,” Lylit says proudly. “I invented them.”
“You invented dreaming?”
“At first it was a fuzzy plan. My intention was to help the mind expand. It needed to reach outside the brain. Dreams are a way for mortals to work out ego needs in a safe way. Oh, right away the patriarchy spread rumors and lies that I invented the dream state so I could fornicate with men while they slept. Pooh. Those people are so unpleasant.”
“You sure didn’t invent my dreams.”
“I am not joking,” Lillian, Lylit, says with a broad smile. “Sometimes dreams are too convincing, I will admit.”
“Like our garden dream? Was that you? And who was that angel?”
“It was me, and that was no dream. Hear me out. There’s something in it for you. I invented dreaming for mortals to play out their wildest fantasies during sleep, as a way to grow the imagination and help people find new ideas, new facts, invent new art. I made the dream state for access to the free mind. Higher goals and deep instinctual drives all firing at once. All of it is useful, even the fearsome things people think of.
“Sure, the old graybeards said it was to help Lian work on them. Creation myths are inaccurate because language is incomplete at those times. Dreaming is a way people access all the old memories and futures, the mind of the Creator.”
“Mind of the Creator?”
“Yes. There’s something called the Book of Life, the Book of God's Remembrance, Book of Decree. Another name for it is Akasha.”
Tharcia cocks her head. Lian mentioned Aksaha.
“Dreams are my playground. Look, why does nature put you to sleep, completely immobilize your body, make your sex organs ready, then give you a series of wild hallucinations about which you can do nothing?”
Tharcia gives Lylit a sharp look. “Hold up. Why make people feel hot during dreams?”
Lylit’s eyes dance. “Hah. Dreaming is so people would make babies. Dreams are for the survival of the species. That was my gift.”
Tharcia’s eyes soften. “Well thanks, I think.”
Lylit beams. “Sis, it’s something I give you as well. Something you can use.”
“Use dreams? How?”
Ahead, their attention is drawn to a couple that had walked past holding hands, and who now stand kissing passionately. It is a cold day and they are warmly dressed. Pulling at clothing, both fall to their knees in the sand. The man moves behind the woman and lowers her jeans. Directly in front of the row of broad-windowed beach homes, two bodies move into the ancient rhythm. People walking their dogs pause to look, but keep going. Lillian smiles at the sight. It’s almost commonp
lace now. Mothers don’t take their kids in public so much anymore. The police won’t respond, even if someone bothers to call, not for that. There are more pressing matters.
“Gross,” Tharcia says, turning away.
Lillian smiles. “Something you should know about that, about what those people are doing.”
“About everybody going all spinny over sex?” Tharcia for her part is more than spinny herself. She’d like to kiss this Lillian, if she weren’t so pissed at the betrayal. She’d like to kiss someone.
Lillian takes her hand as they walk along. “The Akasha works in another way. It is the field of all possibilities, a pregnant space. Spirit beings manipulate that field to manifest reality. Mortals are learning how. It’s behind all the strange things happening to some people. They are projecting their fears and desires as reality.”
“Manifesting reality? Like, believing something so it comes true? Keeping a positive attitude?”
“Close. Although a positive attitude would help you, Sis, quite a lot. If you keep something firmly in mind, a goal, the universe of possible realities responds. It doesn’t always come out exactly as you think, but people already affect future reality.”
“What you said about the Book of Life reminds me of a dream I had. I was a whale and I knew everything. Everything past and future.”
“Tell me?”
Tharcia describes her whale dream, the pink ribbon in infinite dark, the blinding flashes as each whale was absorbed into it. Her sensation of becoming one with all of time, one with the knowledge of everything. When she finishes, Lillian wears a pleased expression.
“I love you Tharcia. That was more real than you think. So much more.”
“But I forgot everything,” Tharcia says sadly. “All of it.”
Lillian laughs. “You are mistaken about that. You are the holder of that knowledge. You will pass it on.”
“Pass it on? I don’t even know it.”
“Knowledge is sometimes communicated across great distances.”