The God Organ

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “Perfect,” Charlotte said, her voice rising in pitch. “I can pick you up here, then. I’ll just run along and get a drink or a coffee. Who knows? Maybe I’ll just keep on shopping.”

  Charlotte patted Hannah’s back and whirled back out of the store. She practically bounced out the front door and into the early winter evening, appearing impervious to the gloom and cold.

  Hannah looked forward to seeing the woman again. She spun around to fix the rack of pants behind her and thudded violently against another woman, who spilled a pile of blouses, skirts, and jeans.

  “Jesus, watch it,” the young woman said.

  Her eyes were hidden behind purple sunglasses. A pointy noise and sharp chin stood out against her thick brunette hair. She must have been in her early twenties.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Obviously.”

  Hannah bent to scoop up the dropped clothes and tried to deposit the heap back into the young woman’s arms.

  “Whoa,” the woman said. “Aren’t you Brian’s girlfriend?”

  Hannah stared at her, silent.

  “I mean ex. I thought you would’ve killed him or something. I mean, I would have, after everything he did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? Like, all those girls he was fooling around with. I mean, like, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know he was even going out with anyone until after we...you know. I found out on Usverse. I know I should’ve checked him when we were dancing at Camelot, but I figured he was obviously single.”

  Hannah tried to understand what the woman was saying.

  A hot redness spread across the young woman’s face, but she couldn’t seem to refrain from babbling on. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I know it was awful, but I swear I didn’t know. I mean, I stopped seeing him once I found out, but he kept screwing around with my friends, too.”

  She should have known. Hannah cursed her own naiveté.

  “Guys are such assholes.”

  Hannah had a difficult time believing any of it. But, of course, Usverse had made private lives public and her life, her memories, her photographs, her addresses—everything—were readily accessible to anybody who cared to know. She didn’t know the talkative woman, but the woman apparently knew plenty about her—and Brian.

  A dam in her head ruptured. A flood of suppressed emotions and memories overwhelmed her in an agonizing moment of weakness. Her life had been ruined by him. She had been left with nothing. And here was a woman she didn’t know telling her about Brian’s infidelity.

  She ran to the stockroom, tears streaming down her face.

  “Please, God,” Hannah whispered. “Give me some reason to keep going. Give me purpose.”

  ***

  Outside of G&N, on the bustling sidewalk, crowds of people brushed past Hannah. Charlotte, in a scarlet coat that matched her hat, smiled and waved.

  “Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked as they climbed into her car.

  Hannah looked out the passenger window. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Bug.” Charlotte placed a hand on Hannah’s.

  The car wound through traffic. Flickering streetlights replaced sunlight to combat the settling darkness.

  Hannah unloaded on Charlotte. Her story continued even as the car sat in a parking garage near the cathedral.

  When Hannah finished, Charlotte leaned across the black leather seat and hugged her. “Boys are the worst. I tell you, the only boy who has never let me down is Jesus.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t make me feel less lonely.”

  “He’s out there, Bug. You never know when Jesus is talking to you. We get so distracted by everything going on in our lives here on earth, we forget about Him.”

  Hannah wiped her eyes, trying to rub away the childlike feelings in her head. “You’re right. I’m such a blubbering idiot sometimes.”

  “You’re not an idiot. Don’t you ever say that.” Charlotte grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Let’s go inside and listen to Father Cooney, shall we? He’s the first step to hearing what God has to say to you.”

  Hannah followed Charlotte out of the parking garage and down the street toward the cathedral. This building was all she had. It was her sanctuary.

  She yearned for the promises of Heaven and escape from this world. No boyfriend, no friends, no more family.

  She looked up at Charlotte. Well, maybe she had one friend, now.

  Inside the cathedral, a tingling glow filled her. It wasn’t just the heat in the cavernous building, but a warmth that flickered inside her. Maybe it was God.

  Throughout the liturgy, she glanced at the other parishioners. Several appeared ragged and worn down, almost certainly homeless. They might have been attending Mass because of their devotion or because it was an escape from the cold. Even those in suits and collared shirts couldn’t shake the disheveled, broken-down lives that hung in the bags under their eyes or the vacant stares in their expressions.

  Father Cooney’s church had grown in popularity as his public outcry at the Sustain had tickled the ears of many disgruntled individuals dissatisfied with their lives and the ominous economic conditions.

  Almost all those who followed Father Cooney appeared modest in means. Hannah noticed Charlotte’s fashion of dress was incongruous with the rest of Father Cooney’s flock. It was easy to draw the conclusion that none of the other people lining the stiff wooden pews could afford a Sustain implant for themselves.

  “The men in this city are acting as gods. They are being worshiped like gods.” Father Cooney’s black cassock fluttered as he slammed his fists on the lectern. “We shall not forsake the most basic of commandments: ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.’ Yet, our brothers and sisters have forgotten this, worshiping the false idols of money and so-called technologies that have perverted the gift of human life.

  “We cannot also sit by idly as we watch our friends and families forsake the path of righteousness and walk into the devil’s temptations.

  “And, to that matter, his words are no less lucid in Deuteronomy: ‘If your own brother, or your own daughter, or your beloved wife, or your intimate friend entices you secretly to serve other gods, whom you and your fathers have not known, gods of any other nations, near at hand or far away, from one end of the Earth to the other: do not yield to him or listen to him, nor look with pity upon him, to spare or shield him, but kill him.’

  “These ‘other gods’ are near at hand, blinding us, tempting us from a moral and just life, in a body of God’s pure design. He hath made us in his image, and we have the arrogance to adulterate that perfect image with our own sinful perversions. These men who act as gods, granting humans eternal life on Earth, promise us with faux smiles and shallow assertions that they are acting in the best interest of humanity.”

  Father Cooney’s voice boomed and he snarled. “But we know this not to be true. They have selected their own chosen people—those with wealth and greed. They have enslaved us through their wicked intent and poisonous influence.

  “I remind you of a verse from the book of Jeremiah: ‘Cursed be he who does the Lord’s work remissly, cursed he who holds back his sword from blood!’”

  Standing quiet for a moment, he started off again slower and quieter. “There is no greater gift in this single mortal life than to give that life to Our Lord, in his service. I ask you all to contemplate the nature of my words and God’s intent and leave you with a parting question: what can you do to stop the worship of these false gods?” His voice built into a crescendo. The parishioners clung to each word, their gazes frozen. Some clenched their fists in white-hot anger and others shook their heads, enraptured.

  “We shall strive together against these gripping tides. It is our call to prevent this city from succumbing to the destruction and wrath God hath bestowed upon wicked cities in the past.

  “Do not forget the examples of Sodom and Gomorrah, consumed by fire f
or impenitent sin. Do not ignore the oceanic cleansing of Port Royal of its licentious inhabitants, murderers, prostitutes, pirates, and thieves, their fates further locked into condemnation by a plague sent by God. Nor that of New Orleans, flooded by God to wash away the worship of witchcraft and satanic idols. History is full of God’s attempts to purify our world by eliminating centers of evil. We shall not let our city of Chicago suffer a similar tragic fate. It is not too late to deliver retribution. God is waiting for us.”

  Hannah’s anger sublimated into a furious passion. Yes, God had been calling on her for too long. She had left Him waiting.

  Her petty feelings toward her coworkers and Brian seemed immature and trivial. She had known, all along, that she should be devoted to a cause greater than herself, and she had always asked God, praying to Him tirelessly, to help her.

  Now, she realized, it wasn’t her prerogative to ask Him for help. She should take initiative. For the first time in her life, she would make decisions on her own merit, for His sake.

  Hannah leaned into Charlotte’s ear. “I want to do something.”

  “What do you mean, Bug?”

  “I want to do something about these god organs.”

  Charlotte nodded, her eyes still fixed on Father Cooney. “I know a few people who have been picketing in front of LyfeGen. Do you want to join them?”

  Hannah thought for a second, contemplating the merits of a passive protest. “No. That’s not enough.”

  Charlotte smiled, patting Hannah on the knee. “I’m sure you can come up with something. Maybe I can help.”

  Chapter 27

  Audrey Cook

  November 26, 2063

  Lake Michigan mirrored the blue sky hanging over Chicago. The sun’s bright glare made the day appear deceptively warm, though Audrey’s cold red nose argued otherwise.

  She slid past the tourists thronging at the bottom of the Hancock tower, dodging brightly colored shopping bags and doe-eyed children staring up at the looming skyscrapers. She walked through the sliding glass doors of the building. The anxious chatter of families in line for the observatory filled her ears.

  Audrey strolled down a less crowded corridor. Her heels clicked against the marble floor and she met a virtual host.

  “Reservations for two under the name Childs,” she said.

  The blue projection display lit up.

  “Welcome. Please enter the second elevator to your left.”

  The metallic doors slid aside and Audrey hopped into the elevator. One wall appeared to slide away, allowing her to see through the building and out over Chicago.

  “To the east, you will see the heart of Chicago, the vibrant city itself, throbbing with life,” a voice said overhead.

  That wall eventually became steel again. Behind her, a screen displayed a view over Lake Michigan. Sunlight glittered on the surface of the water, sparkling with the white-crested waves that rolled into the shore along the undoubtedly cold and empty beaches lining Chicago.

  “Lake Michigan once served as an integral highway for trade before the United States even formally existed. Today, the waters are a welcoming recreational distraction and a mark of significant natural beauty.”

  The soothing voice paused as the window to the outside world became steel again.

  “Welcome to Limitless on the 95th.”

  The doors slid open and Audrey walked toward a smiling human host.

  “Childs?”

  She nodded, following the server to a small table adjacent to the expansive window overlooking the lake. A subtle jazz melody floated through the air, delicate as the single flower centerpiece at the table. While a few tables appeared populated with lovers, others hosted diners in suits discussing business and office gossip.

  The room provided a perfect environment for private conversations. The music was just loud enough to muddle the words of nearby diners, but quiet enough to allow hushed exchanges. Limitless also employed automated servers, eliminating the need for a live waiter with a set of prying ears.

  Because of this and the staggering view, Audrey enjoyed taking lunches here with her interviewees and business contacts. Their conversations could be anonymous enough and her guests seemed much looser with information when the skies were clear and the view magnificent.

  After she had finished her first glass of water, a man sat down at the table. Her new LyfeGen contact wasn’t who she’d expected.

  Her most prized contact at LyfeGen, Stanley, had ended all contact with her several days before Preston Carter resigned as CEO. She wondered if Stanley had been caught and fired. Carter’s resignation was suspicious enough and Audrey had hoped to find a more intriguing explanation than his publicly released claims of wanting to spend more time with his family.

  Her unanswered messages and calls to Stanley had only increased her curiosity.

  And now, the one man she suspected would have some of those answers sat across from her. His dark gray suit and crisp white shirt complemented his icy blue eyes. He smiled slightly, offering an outstretched hand.

  “Preston Carter,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Thanks for coming, Mr. Carter.” She returned his handshake.

  “No need for formalities,” he said. “You can call me Preston. And I’d prefer to call you by your real name.”

  “Audrey. Any more questions, or can we get down to business?” She offered a smile to test his humor. “After all, I’m the journalist here.”

  Preston returned the smile. “Fair enough.”

  A blustering storm of questions whirled in her mind. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I thought that would be the case. However, I would like to say my willingness to work with you is on account of a moral responsibility to disseminate the truth. I can’t lie: there’s a certain element of vindication I hope to achieve, as well.”

  “I had a feeling your resignation wasn’t by choice. But I couldn’t figure out why.”

  “You mean your contacts who should know such things went dry.”

  “More or less.”

  “May I ask if you’re recording our conversation?”

  “I don’t have to if you’d prefer we didn’t,” Audrey said.

  “That’s what I’d prefer.”

  Taking her comm card from her pocket, she slid it onto the table for Preston to see and swiped the screen to turn off the audio recording app.

  “For now, I’d like to stay off the record,” Preston said. “But if things work out, I don’t mind coming forward.”

  “That sounds great to me. But why the sudden cooperation? What’s in it for you?”

  “To be honest, I want to get the word out regarding some internal issues at LyfeGen. There are also other...situations, if you will, that could pose a danger to certain individuals. I want to prevent these issues from progressing and I’m afraid we’re going to need some public pressure.”

  “And the current motley bunch of protesters isn’t good enough?”

  “I’m not content with Bible-thumpers and anarchists. I’ll be sure to alert the relevant authorities, as well. But right now, I don’t have concrete evidence to secure my place as a whistle-blower. The only thing I have in my arsenal is a dash of suspicion and this.” Preston reached into his pocket.

  “Are you looking to get the police involved?”

  “Not yet. Not until I can be sure I’m not just the boy crying wolf.” He slipped out a small plastic vial and placed it on the table.

  Audrey reached out. “May I?”

  Preston nodded and she picked it up. She traced her finger across the blue LyfeGen logo and peered into the clear liquid.

  “That was supposed to be my last Sustain update,” Preston said.

  “Is that safe to carry around? Won’t it become denatured or degrade or something?”

  “No,” he said. “That was part of my job coming into the company—ensuring the long-term stability of our updates. I trust my work.”

  �
��What do you intend to do with it?”

  “I’m hoping it holds some clues to everything that’s been going on recently—everything you’ve been reporting on and making my life hell with.”

  “Sorry,” Audrey said. “But you have to understand, that’s my job.”

  “I do. I understand the compromises and sacrifices we all make to keep our jobs.”

  Audrey thought briefly of Matthew, but glanced back at the vial. “What do you think you’re going to find?”

  “I can’t be entirely sure,” Preston said. “As you know, no one with a Sustain should have suffered a perfectly preventable stroke. It would take time for the clot to build up, more than enough time for the Sustain to respond.”

  “Right,” Audrey said. “That’s nothing new. You think someone tampered with the Sustain updates themselves.”

  His expression told her all she needed to know. His head tipped forward slightly and his lips tightened.

  “But how?”

  “There are plenty of people who work at the company with access to the Sustain updates, from the very beginning of the process when we manufacture the vector shells to the final quality specialists who test samples of update batches.”

  “Wouldn’t that process catch a tampered update?”

  “Possibly. Unless that process has been altered as well. I’ve read your stories suggesting a fringe terrorist organization targeted Cobb and the rest of them. Admittedly, you’ve come up with some interesting theories. As frustrating as it was for me when I was CEO, I hope that your sleuthing will be of some benefit as I move forward in my own investigations.”

  Audrey didn’t tell him that most of the sleuthing he lauded her for had been accomplished by sneaking peeks at Matthew’s comm card. In fact, she felt that she’d grown lazy. Almost everything she had needed had come from two sources: Stanley and her husband.

  Her investigations, truthfully, weren’t good enough. It was happenstance, not skill.

  Her heart sank and her stomach felt weak. If she agreed to help Preston in his investigation, she was just fooling herself. In fact, the puzzle pieces she’d put together about the possibility of a radical religious organization responsible for the sabotage had been harvested from the conversations she’d downloaded from Matthew’s card.