The Church of the Transhuman

by Joe Plus

  Gideon interjected: “And he communed with her only last night, through a dream wasn’t it John?”

  The priestess gazed at John and asked: “Tell me. Tell me your dream.”

  John recounted the dream of his ascent to the moon and the spider's web. The priestess seemed pleased at what she heard and at the end of it released her grip. John placed his hands in his pockets, took a small step back and tried to smile.

  “No hay problema,” he said.

  “Good, good,” she said.

  She indicated to the twelve priestesses to come closer and, in earshot of John and the animals, she said: “He is sent by our lady to save us. We will continue to thrive, this is clear, but we must use this one as often as we can,” she indicated to John, “to ensure our survival. He has been given the gift of thunder and lightning. We must keep him for future generations, so I will request from our lady that he is bound fast and passed down to serve our children. He must never be set free.”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” said John.

  She smiled and sat upright and stared into John’s horrified face. She stood slowly, gave him a pat on the head, turned to the women and said: “The invaders will never have such power,” she walked on slowly, “come, let’s get on with the feast for our risen Lord.”

  John felt a sense of powerlessness roll over him, and he watched the women help the high priestess toward a pile of ochre pots, knives, brushes and other items, presumably essential for ghastly ceremonial purposes.

  Men and women returned in increasing numbers, carrying jugs of water, wood, venison, vegetables and skins filled with alcoholic drink. A large pile of wood was being assembled on one side of the hill far from the tree and John guessed that it was to be made into a fire. Tele sat under the tree and John went to sit next to him.

  “So,” he said to Tele, “what's happening now?”

  “Preparations for tonight,” said Tele, “tomorrow when the Sun rises they will appoint a new consort for the Goddess. Basically some poor schmuck is selected to be the King for a whole year, ha ha.”

  “Then you get to eat him the following year,” said John.

  “You got it,” said Tele, “It's a privilege, apparently.” He picked up a piece of bone and chewed.

  “Jesus,” said John, and he pulled tightly on his fur poncho, “don’t you at least feel bad for the guy?”

  “Well,” said Tele, “they get to do more or less what they want for 362 days, so it's not so bad. It's an honor for the family of the chosen one, but you can bet your life the young men dread selection day.”

  “Right.”

  John noticed the growing crowd and recognized a few faces from the previous day. It comprised the same young men and women in the steady up-and-down stream.

  A few women began to stare at John, and he stared back. It was as if they were beginning to notice him. They peered as if into a murky pool or thick mist, knowing something was in there, something shapeless; odd; possibly dangerous. One woman, with a squint and a smile, reached out and touched his fine hair.

  “Is it our lady’s new imp?” she said.

  There was a commotion and John turned to see Gideon snap at Tele’s paws.

  “Come on, give it back,” said Gideon.

  “Gerroff,” said Tele, curling his shoulders and brushing the wolf away.

  “You always get the best meat. You’re so bloody greedy. It was mine.”

  More cold meat was thrown out onto the white chalk and Gideon, Nelli and the birds ran and swooped to snatch the scraps. Gideon chased Nelli while she ran off with a large piece. He gave up and turned to chase the birds, their curled claws squeezing out huge blobs of congealed fat from their catch. John walked over to a whining Gideon and patted him on the head.

  “Aww buddy. You're too slow man… I mean…dog.”

  The priestess walked over and put a large morsel into Gideon’s mouth while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Licking his lips he turned to John.

  “John, my new found best friend, tonight is going to be a big night and you are going to be in for a real surprise. Lots of food, drink, singing, dancing and lovely girls.”

  “What again? More cannibalism. I can’t wait. Yes, I have seen the lovely girls,” he said, eyeing the stout, strong redheads carrying heavy logs of wood up to the large pile. “It's fuckin’ freezing, aren't they cold? It must be at least what, two, three degrees?”

  “This is an unusually warm day for this time of year,” said Gideon.

  “For them maybe,” said John, “but my balls are going to drop off in this wind. Look, I am going to get hypothermia again. Thank god for this bear skin.” John looked out at the growing mass of clambering men and women, some with children. “That's the first time I have noticed kids,” he said.

  “Come, let’s stand by the fire,” said Gideon and he wandered into the crowd. John attempted to follow but soon lost Gideon in the throng. He was aching in his joints and shivering violently, and so he turned to find some shelter. He pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the spiral path, turning into the side passage. He wanted warmth, and to get out of this dream, get back to Cape Town, to his apartment. Was this the final chapter in a continuing trajectory toward complete madness? Was he lost inside his own head, running through the passageway of his daily hallucination never to find an exit?

  Perhaps I’m in a CoT+ psychiatric ward, drugged up to my eyeballs and tied to a bed, at the mercy of CoT+ medical team, personally led by Doctor Yoshida, he thought, or maybe in a cryo-vat, put there in my sleep by Scrunch, poisoned with new drugs and hooked up to a gamecube. A kind of Paleo-Matrix VR game.

  He turned into the room at the center of the hill and, finding it empty, lay down on the pile of wood and bones. The small fire burned gently, warming the room and filling it with a diffuse red glow. It was a relief to be out of the cold and away from the commotion. The soup pot bubbled away and he began to feel hungry. He looked around for bowls and saw none and he lay back. He had barely eaten since the dream began.

  There was a sound of steps, some rusting and the knocking of pots. The old woman, bent double and moving slowly, entered. Joints cracking and her breathing strained, she sat down on a stump by the soup pot. She removed a ladle tied to a bag and began stirring the soup. For the first time John took a proper look at her, and in the faint light saw that she had features distinct from the others; she was less stocky and had a finer bone structure.

  “You keeping out of the cold young man?” she asked.

  “Yes. And away from the crowd,” he answered.

  “Good idea. I can't stand the cold myself,” and she untied a bowl attached to her bag and filled it. As with the previous night the soup was warm and filling and after gulping it down he readily accepted a second bowl. Her face was exposed this time, and though he could barely see her face in the faint light, he caught sight of a scar from the left corner of her mouth to her ear. She was no Neanderthal.

  “My name’s John,” he said offering his hand.

  “My name is a secret,” she said ignoring his hand and turning to the fire, “but everyone calls me Soma.”

  “Well Soma, so what do you do here?”

  She turned from the fire and looked down at the earth.

  “Oh, I potter around here and there, keep this room in good order and make soup for the priestesses.”

  “You don't look like one of them. You seem different,” he said.

  She laughed: “Yes I am different. I was exchanged for food when times were difficult. I was taken in and cared for when I was a young girl. I had a lot of energy and I worked hard. They have been so kind to me.”

  “Difficult times? How so?”

  “Oh, it's of no real interest. When my people came here there were not prepared for such weather and many died. And all those diseases and such dangerous animals and so forth didn’t help.”

  “But you survived.”

  “If it wasn't for these people and their special wisdom, I would be
dead. Good gracious me, that's a certainty.”

  “But you can see me, most of the others can’t.”

  “Oh, I have been well trained in their magic. I can see all spirits of the Goddess.” Soma paused, and whispered: “I went down the labyrinth you know. I have been initiated into the wisdom of the ancients.”

  In the eyes of this old woman John saw a spark of grandiosity, a dream of something higher.

  “Oh, the ancients found me and chose me. Yes me, Soma.” She stood, hunched and white haired, weak and arthritic, yet she had an attitude and a command for attention. It dawned on John that when it came to human behavior, that there really was nothing new under the Sun. “Why Soma?” she said, and paused. “Because Soma was chosen to be a companion for the high priestess, for the Goddess herself in earthly form.”

  John finished his soup and thanked her and she, indicating that he remain seated, crept across and took the bowl from him and began to lick it clean.

  “Ah, O.K.,” he said. So, why are you not above, with Priestly robes and among the other girls, you know, the twelve redcoats that serve the high priestess?”

  “Why indeed?” she said, while reattaching her bowl to her bag. “It is for two reasons, the first is that I am an outsider. Their mistrust is understandable, though I have borne them children.”

  John was astonished to hear this.

  “Really? You have had children with one of these men?”

  “One of? Quite a few of them actually, five husbands in all, all dead. It was not easy, but I could conceive you know. Perhaps that is another reason they have kept me. I have had twenty you know, and only four stillborn. Six daughters and seven of my boys are still alive. Three of my boys have been made consorts of the Goddess. Yes three, fancy that.” She sat down on the stump and picked up a stick and poked at the hearth. “Yes, three, taken for her satisfaction, hmmm yes. And now they will take another of my beautiful boys. A grandson this time.”

  “Amazing,” said John. “You must feel so, aah, privileged.”

  “Yes, and I do, and I have been blessed with many years. It has been give and take you know; I give to them as best I can. I have skill with paint and I can work wood and clay into forms, representations of our Goddesses, the Earth and the Moon.”

  “Now that's a thing. May I see your works?”

  “Why yes of course, of course. But no, my works are below and that area is forbidden to men. Are you a man? You are a strange looking one, with a beard but the body of a girl.”

  “Well I know I am not that toned, but with modern life…”

  She indicated that he be silent, that he stand and follow her. She picked up a torch and continued to wave him on.

  “Come. Come with me,” she placed a finger to her lips. “Let’s be quick, our secret. I will show you my works. They are inspired.”

  She used a stick for support and she led the way, out of the room and through the passage, until she made an abrupt stop. She tapped the wall to their right, the sound a hollow, empty thud. It was a wooden door, covered in a black coating of what looked like tar. She pulled on a gap and the door opened easily.

  “No one is allowed to go down except the priestesses,” she said. “Of course I am allowed, but no others. Not the novices and definitely no men, no matter what their status.”

  “Including the King?”

  “Oh, I am sure some kings would love to pay a visit, though the consequences would be dire.”

  Dire indeed, he thought, and he followed her through the door. Soma hesitated and turned to look him in the eyes.

  “I see your heart, and after the display of your powers today it is clear to me that you are among the Goddess’s most trusted.”

  “Oh, you heard about the gun thing. Yes, well I guess it came as a surprise to everyone, including me,” he said.

  “You still have the power, yes?”

  “Sure, another fourteen rounds, why?”

  “Please answer me in a way I can understand. Can you use the fire of the moon at will? It comes from your index finger, so I heard.”

  “Yes, it's a weapon and it's called a gun, something that’s hard to explain. It's a bit dark here but perhaps I can show you later.”

  “Yes, you can do that when the time is right. Come, let me show you images from the Goddesses.”

  They walked down the passage that turned a sharp right and descended steeply. Soma lit oil lamps along the way and revealed a multitude of drawings: handprints, labyrinths, spiders, collections of dots, Elk, Bear, Lion, Mammoth, and a whole host of strange creatures unknown to John. The passage continued on and the curvature began to loosen. John guessed they had descended far down, at least thirty, maybe forty meters.

  “Are we below ground level?”

  “Oh, very far. Don’t worry, we don’t have much farther to go before we get to the most sacred chamber.”

  The passage flattened off and turned ninety degrees to an open doorway. They entered into a pitch black space, and the old woman walked the perimeter of the room lighting oil lamps that were slotted at regular intervals within recesses. In the receding darkness John detected a large, circular and high walled room with a domed ceiling. It had a large thick pole of wood ascending from the center of the circular floor up into the middle of the dome, a radius of at least ten or twelve meters, and a height of the same. The first two meters of wall was covered with paintings; spirals, collections of dots, the crescent moon, animals, hunters, and strange hybrids. The latter paintings interested John the most, these odd man-beasts with their antlers, hooves and hunting weapons. They look just like Menders. The floor was carved in an intricate labyrinth of back and forth coils, and the domed ceiling was encircled in what resembled Zodiac signs, only these signs were peculiar and unlike those known to modern man. John looked carefully, squinting into the low light. Some were recognizable, including a bear and a bird. Others he could not decipher. What is more, there were thirteen of them, the most prominent of which was a giant spider. From the top of the pillar radiated a thick black spiral that cut through each zodiac image and terminated at the spider’s abdomen. John playfully walked through the shallow labyrinth, following a back and forth motion over four quadrants, until he reached the central pole. He noticed that this was not a labyrinth to get lost in, since there were no dead-ends, but a labyrinth with a definite end; a decided point of completion at its center.

  “Yes, she spins her web and catches her prey. Once you are on the path you will be caught, and we, her most faithful servants, help her do it,” she said, leaning heavily on her stick.

  John recalled vividly his dream and the thick chord that descended to the Earth. He felt drowsy. Is it the air? Is the room lacking in oxygen?

  “Our Goddess weaves her web through the heavens.”

  “Yes, yes I have heard about that already.”

  “And the thread that descends to the earth is an umbilical cord from her to her daughter, the earth, the product of the union between the moon and her consort, the sun.”

  “Ahaa!” he said.

  John's exclamation brought a faint smile on the old women's face.

  “He dies each year around solstice,” he said, “when the Sun is at its lowest point, and he remains there for three days, yes now I get it. The old Sun God myth.”

  Soma’s smile quickly left when he said this.

  “It is no myth, imp. It is the truth.”

  She was angry, but John had heard this account through one of Bob's sermons, a deconstruction’s of the Christ story.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” John found himself saying, “just thinking out loud, know what I’m saying.”

  He felt his eyes flicker and tiredness in his muscles. She smiled strangely and walked over to the pillar in the center of the room.

  She touched it and said: “This is her umbilical cord, the cord to her whispers, her plans. With this we can hear the murmurs between mother and daughter, the talk between the heavens and the earth, sometimes the earthly small ta
lk, the hints and the gossip, a weakness of mothers and …” she paused and eyed the room, “… you know, down here her daughters can hear. Come, listen,” she placed her ear to the pole and John did the same. They heard the voices of the crowd above.

  “A weakness,” Soma said, “a tittle-tattle, of women in general. It is fortunate that in me it is something I can control, so long as I can commune with spirits, such as yourself.”

  John felt overcome with tiredness and walked over to a log that lay beneath the zodiac image of an Elk.

  “Tired I see, then you must rest.”

  “Yes I will.”

  Soma smiled, rubbed the tall pillar of smooth wood and looked up at the thirteen-symbol zodiac. She rubbed the pillar hard and fast, up and down as if to wax a shine. She turned and looked at John's feet and said: “Well, if you have listened as carefully as I do, you will understand what has been happening of late, and what will be in the very near future. Very near indeed.”

  John yawned and said: “Very near? In a hundred thousand moons or whatever?”

  “Oh no, sooner than that. Let me show you something.”

  She revealed in her hand a small pellet and handed it to John. He looked at it carefully. It was round, hard and cold.

  “Metal,” he said.

  “We women discovered it while cooking,” she said. “It will give us tremendous power one day. Now all we need is your lightning.”

  John felt a sudden jolt in his heart and he grabbed his chest. He knew that he was in trouble. She moved toward him, her hands raised. He fell on his knees to the ground and cried out in pain.

  “Soma, I, I think I am…”

  She crept toward him and, placing her hands on his forehead, began to weep. Through her tears he could make out her words.

  “We are cut from the same cloth, are we not? I know your heart.”

  She paused and, in his delirium, John felt warm drops wet his nose and cheeks. She began to whisper in his ear.

  “My boy, I set you free from bondage. I release you from bondage to these women. I release from the lies of the evil one, the skull in the sky, the snare of men, the eater of Kings. I deliver you over to the Sun. I deliver you to his yolk. I call upon him to guide you in his ways, to enlighten you in the path of truth.”