God of God

by Mark Kraver

  “Yes. I have shown you mercy after consultation with your master Ra, and this is how you repay me? Leave this place.”

  “Or?”

  “Or I will have you removed,” roared Numen in a voice that shook the ground for miles around.

  With those words, the cherubim that were protecting the soldiers, and those that were with Yahweh and Numen, began to circle Rogue’s force field. For a second, Yahweh wasn’t sure if Ra’s cherubim were on his side or Rogue’s, but after a moment's hesitation looking at the infamous seraph, they too began to fall in line with the others.

  Numen raised his arms and all the cherubim joined hands in a completed circle around Rogue. Faster and faster they circled him until the surroundings began to swirl up into a maelstrom of sand and tiny pebbles.

  Wilson was already shielding his eyes from the blistering sandstorm when Numen clapped his hands together, producing a gigantic thunderbolt. The bolt’s impact was so powerful it popped Rogue’s force field and knocked everyone standing to the ground. Wilson and the others were smacked numb, paralyzed, deaf and blind as if struck by lightning. In an instant, Rogue was covered in a solid mass of angry, snarling babies. Rogue could not resist the sheer number of bodies covering every surface of his golden metallic skin. The cherubim looked like a swarm of killer bees building a honeycomb from their mouths around their struggling prey.

  When all the dust settled, Rogue was encapsulated in a solid block of clear, hardened substance. His grimacing facial expression of defiance still contorted his face.

  “Armilus,” Yahweh said with disgust.

  Numen said nothing at first. He looked disappointed, but knew Rogue was doing what his programming told him to do. He wondered about his own circuitry. If he would have done the same thing. A small output inside his mitochondrial-core quantum molecular circuitry said, “Maybe.” He knew that was not a complete answer, but it was the best he could come up with using the limited number of variables he was willing to devote to this situation. “I will retrieve the deed crystal, master.”

  Yahweh nodded, staring down at the encased body of the disgraced seraph. Numen tapped several of the bright green keys on his golden right hand and disappeared inside Ra’s ship. Within seconds, a lifelike hologram streamed out from within the ship’s interior. It was Ra, wearing a tall headdress and a white silken gown with golden snakes coiled up each arm. Her wide green eyes and bizarre facial makeup made her look like an Egyptian Goddess.

  Yahweh bowed his head and said, “Ra. I failed to rescue you. We too were shot down by the alphabiotic signatures. It has taken long to establish circumstances suitable for the genesis on this planet. I request your blessings.”

  The projected regal image of Ra looked around the landscaping before speaking in the native Elohim tongue. “My beautiful gardens are all gone from this world. Eden lost. El? He is as weak as I. All that awaits is death’s great adventure.” She stared up at the sun high in the sky and then down at Rogue. Her eye seemed saddened, but at the same time relieved, “My precious Rogue,” she said gently, “protecting to the last.”

  She turned to Yahweh. “My son. You have my blessings.” At that moment, she saw Numen emerging from the ship holding a glowing emerald crystal. “Behold,” she said, “my half of the deed crystal. All of my personal wealth given freely to you to command.”

  “Your half?” asked Yahweh.

  “The other to this, and to all other planets, lie with my love, El. Our final instructions written upon the deed will be revealed once the crystals have been reunited. All hail Yahweh. Creator.”

  With that wispy proclamation, Ra’s projection vanished as quickly as it had appeared into the desolate desert landscape.

  Yahweh stood in the hot desert wind, frozen. Creator, he thought for the first time. He didn’t feel any different, and yet he was. He had ascended to the summit of his civilization’s hierarchy, and now he stared out over the vista of his destiny. A destiny of doubt and wonderment.

  Yahweh bowed his head and placed his hands over his eyes feeling his face. He trembled as the magnitude of the elevation to the stature of Creator sunk into his psyche.

  “El is not far from here,” Numen said, sensing his master’s monumental moment.

  Retaining his composure with a deep breath, Yahweh lifted his head with newfound fortitude. “Leave Ra’s ship untouched until the final exodus. El’s ship should have all that we need.” Yahweh looked down at Rogue’s defiant face and said, “How were you able to defeat him?”

  “Let me say, I know his deficiencies?”

  “What will we do with him?” Yahweh wondered.

  “He will be transported to Mount Terror where he will be imprisoned between fire and ice until—”

  “And them?” Yahweh asked about the human warriors strewn across the barren desert landscape.

  “The Anti-Babel will be here soon. They will be assimilated like the rest.”

  “Of course,” Yahweh nodded.

  The connectome pulsed with thought:

  “Ra and El are lovers?” Nadira asked, mulling the idea around in her head,

  still feeling her hand in Lanochee’s.

  “They split all their universal accomplishments into equal components?” asked Lanochee.

  “How does one do that?” she asked.

  “Sharing one’s universe equally is only a small matter to think about when you are truly in irrevocable love,” Yahweh sighed.

  Chapter 53

  From the end spring new beginnings.

  Pliny the Elder, 23-79, Earth

  Library of Souls

  Washington, DC

  “AWACs picked up activity at the Hala’ib Triangle site,” reported the portly Dr. Joseph Hammond, head of the Presidential ad hoc think tank on the blackout phenomenon and a diplomat of the National Science Council. He was feeling distracted, splitting his attention between the people sitting in front of him and the box of cream-filled donuts in the middle of the table that someone had brought in to go with the free government coffee.

  “Why are you looking there? World War Three has started, and we’re looking in the freaking desert for little green men?” whaled Freddy Faraday, a military strategist on loan from the Pentagon who constantly fiddled with the pack of Marlboros in his shirt pocket.

  “The FBI thinks the aliens are there. They’re the key to stopping the real end of the world,” said Ezra Hammerstein, the unofficial scientific advisor of the Israeli government and a huge presidential donor who wore a strange well-pruned mustache and goatee beard like Vladimir Lenin.

  “Maybe we should nuke them out in the desert?” asked Faraday, pulling a cigarette out and then reluctantly placing it back in the pack.

  “Yeah, that would help,” said Ajax, political party strategist from the State Department adjusting his signature Washington Capitals ball cap on his head. “All we need is a hair trigger shooting match with nuclear weapons.”

  “He does have a point,” said Hammond, propping up one of his plump butt cheeks on the sturdy conference table. “If we were to take out these aliens, there would be less of a mess in the wide-open desert. Like popping one off in Nevada.”

  “Well, why don’t we pop off a nuke in the Everglades to get rid of his ship?” Ajax asked.

  “I think the military is already working on something like that as we speak.” Faraday nervously twitched his fingers over his lips as he spoke.

  “Really? You’re kidding? I know I was kidding. He’s not shown us any aggression yet,” added Ajax.

  “Yet?” Ezra asked, with heightened curiosity. “And why did you call it a ‘him’?”

  Ajax looked back at him without answering.

  “Okay, the President wants some answers about this blackout. Let someone else worry about who nukes who,” Hammond said, leaning over the table, pulling the box closer and snagging a donut. Before he regained his balance off the table he had already shoved half of it into his mouth, letting some cream run down over his protrusive chi
n. “These are the latest CryptoSat photos of the blackout. It looks like it started in Antarctica,” he said, licking his lips.

  “Antarctica? I thought it was dug up in Florida?” questioned Faraday, letting an unlit cigarette ride on his lower lip as he spoke.

  “Here’s a composite time lapse satellite image from a few days ago,” Hammond said. He inhaled the last of the poor donut and then licked his fingers as his colleagues looked at the video.

  On the large screen at the end of the room, a satellite video of Antarctica showed an infrared image of a large glowing spot erupting from deep under the ice sheet.

  “What is this? Why haven’t I heard of this before now?” asked Faraday, pointing his cigarette at the satellite projection.

  “At first we thought it was a newly erupting volcano. An analyst uncovered this satellite imagery during a routine global warming scan of Antarctica yesterday,” answered Hammond. “Keep watching.”

  The time lapse loop showed the glowing spot splitting into three distinct components as it drifted north. The spots then separated from each other—one moved into South America, another into Africa, and the third through Australia and on into Asia.

  “This would have gone undetected if not for their infrared signatures. They are moving at approximately one hundred kilometers per hour. I think we are looking at multiple invasion points,” Hammond added, wiping the remaining donut residue onto his pant leg.

  “What do you think they are? Storms? A shockwave? Poisonous gas?” asked Ezra, rubbing his black dyed beard and mustache with his pale hand.

  “As we speak, it’s almost through South America. It's engulfed New Zealand and Australia, and now’s working its way into Asia, Africa and soon North America, and we’ve got nothing but an alien invasion theory. Anyone got a clue?” asked Hammond, eyeing the box of donuts again. “Come on people, we’ve got panic here. Every airline in the world is breaking US air space without authorization, trying to get some very important people out of the way of this damn thing.”

  “I find it queer that all the infrared hotspots are at the same latitude, don’t you?” Ezra noticed.

  “You think they are all linked together somehow?” asked Hammond, leaning on the table again, positioning himself for another donut run.

  “Maybe like a wireless network moving at a hundred kilometers per hour?” countered Ezra.

  “Not always that fast. It looks like it slows a little over more-populated areas, then speeds up over less,” noticed Faraday. He was lining up all the spots on the screen with his cigarette to his eye, then paused to inhale the tobacco aroma under his nose. “Maybe we can blast the crap out of these things when it finishes with South America and has to cross the canal zone?”

  Faraday stood up and pointed to the large map of the world on the wall. “No, really. Check it out. We could hit all three at the same time. Look, as I see it, it is traveling up the major land masses. The Americas, Africa/Europe, and Asia. If it continues to follow these pathways we could do a coordinated strike at roughly nine degrees north latitude. Panama and the Gulf of Thailand are two constricted land mass funnels.”

  He stopped for a moment and tapped his lip with the cigarette. “Granted the third one will be right smack dab in the middle of Africa, but cruise missiles could be deployed from both the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean, not to mention our B-1 air strike capabilities. If we must nuke ‘em, well . . .” Faraday shrugged his shoulders and sat back down. Placing his cig behind his ear he arched his back and stretched his arms over his head with an exaggerated yawn. “Does anyone think our president has the balls to throw down an ace in someone else’s backyard? A coordinated land, air, and sea attack at one time should do the trick. Maybe it will disrupt the network? What do you think?”

  “Could work,” said Ezra, sipping his coffee. “I definitely think shutting down the airlines is a good idea. It would lessen the chance of spreading it to the States.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. There hasn’t been one incident of this spreading by transportation,” Hammond said snatching another donut. “It’s not spread by humans. It’s spreading by these damn things.” He pointed at the satellite images of the glowing infrared hotspots before dispatching the morsel with one long contorted bite.

  “I understand pushing the panic button when it shows up at your backdoor. That’s what anyone would do. But panic shouldn’t include shooting that cloud with a particle beam weapon or deploying nuclear warheads at an unknown blackout on a moment’s notice,” said Ajax. “And that doesn’t give us the right to invade another country by air or sea or whatever. I say we ignore the airlines. Let people try to protect themselves. No one’s been hurt. Let the blackout pass us by.”

  “Pass us by?” asked Ezra.

  “Yeah, what’s another million or two illegal people to this country?” Hammond said, cheeks full and swallowing.

  “I noticed you didn’t say aliens,” said Ajax.

  “What?” asked Ezra.

  “Ilegal aliens?”

  “Oh yes, the aliens. They’re involved somehow, I am sure,” answered Ezra, with one eyebrow raised high making him look like an alien himself.

  “Okay, cut the banter and stay on point. Faraday’s got one plan and Ajax another. Let’s get a few more before we invite the Big Dog to the party,” Hammond said, drawing everyone’s eyes back to the satellite images with his powdered-sugar covered fingers. “The blackout hit so fast we’ve got no good intel. The strange thing is, satellite reconnaissance shows people just walking around everywhere inside this thing. I find it quite extraordinary that none of them are attempting to communicate with the rest of the world, don’t you think? Here, check this out.”

  Hammond punched several buttons on his laptop and a new satellite video image appeared. “This is an image of a hospital in the middle of Curitiba, Brazil. Notice anything unusual? No one is in the parking lot. Either this image was recorded after visiting hours or this place is shutdown. Oh sure, maybe this hospital was closed for other reasons, but it’s not the only one. It’s the same at every hospital inside the blackout zone. They all appear to be empty.”

  Hammond scrolled to another image. “And look,” he said. “It’s not just hospitals, but prisons too.”

  “I don’t know. Again, computer virus?” answered Faraday, rubbing his lips, needing a smoke.

  “That wouldn’t explain why these places are all cleared out. And it’s not just communications. It’s affecting people’s behavior, too.” insisted Hammond.

  “Maybe a combination of a computer and human virus?” interjected Ezra.

  “Boy, that sounds weird. But that’s okay, I like weird. Maybe it is simpler than that,” Ajax added. “Maybe it has to do with the cloud? They did both start at roughly the same time. The prophetess did proclaim some interesting predictions. Maybe they are trying to press the restart button on civilization. We have screwed this world over more than a few times.”

  “What are you talking about? How does that make it simpler? Push a button and poof, everything is better? This is not the Messiah,” insisted Ezra.

  “Are you sure?” asked Ajax.

  “Restart?” Faraday questioned, sliding his cigarette back and forth over his earlobe. “At the National Security briefing this morning they said the CDC hasn’t been heard from since they entered the blackout zone.”

  Ajax looked up. “The CDC?”

  Faraday nodded. “Even without any direct evidence of a biological weapon, they were sent in to see if it was something infectious. I, for one, don’t trust these aliens. They could have done something to the water supply or the air for that matter.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Sounds like you’ve been watching way too many Sci-Fi movies,” said Ajax.

  “Too much Sci-Fi? What do you think is happening? This is not fiction anymore. This is reality. As real as it gets. Our planet is being threatened, invaded, and you think something good is coming out of this?” raged Ezra.

  “Look,”
Ajax said calmly, “the UN message was pretty clear. They are not interested in hurting us. Sounds like they want to help. Maybe—”

  “Help?” Faraday interrupted Ajax. “You heard the thing at the UN. It’s got everyone around the world thinking it is Judgement Day. Am I the only one who thinks that is crazy talk?”

  Faraday waved his hand in the air, the cigarette locked firmly in his fingers. “Crazy talk from aliens is plain dangerous in my book,” he continued. “And these metallic discs that are showing up on people’s temples, what’s with that? I heard someone ran a count and, Christ, more than sixty people in the Pentagon, twelve in the State Department, and more than half of the heads of the Fortune 500 have these things, whatever they are. God only knows how many are in the military, and around the world for that matter.”

  “Actually, one hundred and forty-four thousand,” Ajax said, adjusting the bill of his ball cap over his jet-black hair.

  “What? How do you know that?” asked Ezra.

  “Because I do,” he said, pulling off his hat to reveal he too had a disc on his head, too.

  The distress in the room was palpable as the men recoiled at the sight of Ajax’s gold disc. Ezra spilled his coffee, Faraday dropped his cig, and Hammond lost his appetite.

  “What are you?” Ezra shrieked.

  “You mean, am I human?”

  They all nodded their heads waiting for his next words.

  Ajax smiled, seeming amused by the others’ stunned silence. “Of course, I’m human. I was born on Earth like you. I’m Italian for heaven’s sake. Ajax DiRoma, come on? I have a mother and father like you. I am like you, except—” He paused to look around the room at the colleagues he had worked with for many years. “—I was born in Atlantis.”