by Stan Mason
‘But I can’t, ’ he retorted. ’I have a role to fulfil.’
’You don’t call what you’re doing a role!’ she challenged vehemently. ’The truth is your Gods are more important to you than your children. That’s the truth, isn’t it!’
He was totally unruffled by her criticism and replied in a soft voice which angered his wife intensely. ’You have to look at the bigger picture,‘ he told her. ‘It’s essential I present the truth to the people so that they can understand and benefit from it.’
She took a step forward to look out of the window at the dull littered street outside. Her lower lip puckered slightly and it appeared that she was about to weep but she held back the tears. ‘How did I ever get mixed up with a lunatic like you?’ she uttered quietly. ‘What on earth did I ever see in you? He remained silent and she turned back to look at him. ‘I don’t deserve this, you know. What you’ve done is to give me two children and then leave me in the cold.’ She paused for a moment with a sad expression on her face. ‘They’re going to repossess the house soon. Then we’ll have nowhere to live. Does that concern you at all?’
‘Of course it does,’ he told her flatly, ‘but I have to concentrate on the main issue in my life. I’m certain that Jesus Christ faced elements that would have dragged him down if he’d been side-tracked. But he focussed on his mission. I must do the same.’
She inhaled deeply and pulled herself together. ‘So your family’s to be ignored. Well to hell with you, Stephen Warrior! To hell with you!’ At that moment, Rebecca emerged from the bedroom in her dressing-gown. ‘Ah see what’s going on,’ said Sheila in a calm voice.
‘This is Rebecca,’ he told her hesitantly.
‘So you’ve taken another woman as well. Is that what it’s all about. Tired of being married to me so you find sex elsewhere!’
‘Rebecca’s one of my most devoted followers,’ he explained. ‘Think whatever you will.’
‘Does she work?’
‘Yes but only part-time,’ he informed her. ‘We only have enough money for the rent and food. Nothing else.’
Sheila’s resolve began to collapse. She now realised how futile it was to pursue her claim. ‘I’ve wasted my time coming here,’ she uttered, almost to herself. ‘I’m going to file for divorce on the grounds of mental cruelty and for your adultery with this woman. Come to think of it, I’m far better off being shot of you. She went to the door, turned to stare at him tearfully, and shook her head with desolation. ‘Far better off!’
Rebecca closed the front door after Mrs Warrior had gone and turned to her partner. ‘So that’s your wife,’ she said sadly, feeling an element of remorse for the woman.
‘Yes, that’s Sheila my wife,’ he responded quietly. ‘On the warpath as usual. But that’s all behind me now.’
‘You never told me you had two children,’ she challenged with a frown appearing on her face.
‘I didn’t think it was important.’ She regarded his reply as exceedingly patronising. ‘I did tell you I was married.’
She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment and then decided that there was no point in pursuing the argument. ’Do you think she’ll let go?’
’She hasn’t got a choice, has she? Given time she’ll divorce me and find so other fool to look after her. I do hope she finds happiness with another man.‘
He turned to take her in his arms but she moved away not wanting him to touch her at that particular moment. It irked her that he had kept the details about his children a secret from her. As far as she knew, Warrior had simply left his wife because they were unsuited to each other. What other important facts had he failed to tell her? As a result of his deliberate omissions, it would be some time before she forgave him. Quite some time!’
Chapter Four
Brendan Moses huddled in a corner of the restaurant of a roadside hotel located just two miles outside the town. He sat there by himself waiting for Warrior to arrive. The décor had been designed to host romantic couples who wanted to be alone when they dined and Brendan had chosen a cloistered corner positioning himself out of sight of public view. Moses had emerged from Irish stock, He had been a pioneer for his family having educated himself to a high standard and had found himself decent employment in England. In fact, he bore the responsibility for a number of pilot schemes for his employer in the field of transmission broadcasting. At present, he enjoyed working for one of the major television networks in Britain. He was currently working on a chat show which presented views on topical events most of which inflamed or infuriated the public. The issues mainly involved those of a passionate or emotional nature including drug distribution, abortion, divorce, homosexuality, child abuse, teenage vandalism, and a number of other degenerate matters which generally instigated feelings of annoyance, injustice and righteousness. It dealt with such explosive subjects that on occasion violence had broken out in the studio audience which ended up in fisticuffs. This had the effect of increasing the ratings of the programme with was eagerly watched by millions of viewers.
A major part of Brendan’s role was to find people who would play the Devil’s Advocate for a small fee. They were well and truly rehearsed in the topic to be discussed and were hired to create inflammatory situations to incite viewers. He was known as a ‘tracer’... a man looking for something unusual and interesting to influence viewers to watch the programme. On this occasion, he had come across Stephen Warrior from the article printed in The Bulletin... a man who claimed he had seen many Gods and Goddesses from Heaven. The article claimed that he believed that each God had a specific role with regard to everything that happened in the world. Brendan knew from experience that he should never get too excited about a project but he was very keen this time to meet the messenger mainly because it was a subject that had never been broadcast before.
He kept peering outside the cubicle every time he heard someone enter the restaurant but at nine-thirty, the time arranged for the appointment, there was no sign of the man. The tracer could do nothing more but wait. About fifteen minutes later, Warrior appeared and Brendan, who had never seen him before, was less than impressed. The messenger wore a tatty tartan shirt open at the neck, a dull torn jacket and dirty blue jeans. His hair was unkempt, he had three days’ growth of beard and he looked extremely tired. Brendan had envisaged that he would see an upright man, well-groomed, dressed in dark clothing, resembling a priest. Instead, he was surprised to find the man in such a poor state, almost resembling a tramp.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ declared the preacher, yawning loudly as he sat opposite the tracer. ‘Didn’t sleep too well last night.’. He hardly helped his cause by opening his mouth widely and yawning again.
Moses scanned the face of his target trying to visualise the impact of the man on the small screen. He wasn’t certain how the audience would act to him but that was a side issue at this point of the proceedings. He reached into his pocket and produced a small tape-recorder. ‘I hope you don’t mind me taping this interview,’ he ventured calmly. ‘It helps me to run through the dialogue when I get home at night.’ Warrior shrugged his shoulders to indicate his interest without uttering a word. Brendan faced the messenger directly as the tape in the machine began to turn, recording the conversation. ‘How do you feel about the chance of appearing on television? It was important that targets recognised the impact of appearing in front of millions of people. Some relished the idea, others cared little at this stage but became nervous when the time arrived.
Warrior seemed quite indifferent to the idea. ‘I’m prepared to tell people the message I’ve been asked to give,’ he replied without enthusiasm. ‘I’m not spooked at having to face the cameras, if that’s what you mean?’
‘I did expect a little more enthusiasm,’ responded the tracer bluntly. It’s not often a person gets the chance to appear on television in a chat show. It’s a one-off opportunity. I thought you’d le
ap at it. Okay... let’s get down to business. You say you’re a messenger of the Gods. That they came to you in a vision.’
‘Correct. They still appear to me every night.’
‘But only at night. Not during the daytime.’
‘They reveal themselves in my dreams and through visions.’
‘What precisely is the message they wish you to convey to the people on earth.’
‘That there are many Gods and Goddesses in the celestial kingdom not just one single God to pray to. They’re getting very peeved about it. They want everyone to pray to them as did the Greeks the Egyptians, the Romans and the Scandinavians.’
‘Tell me more about the Gods/’
‘Magester’s the ruler and there are main Gods, lesser Gods and inferior ones. The Hindus pray to over a thousand of them, you know.’
‘So what’s the kitch for television?’ asked the tracer becoming excited with the topic.
‘Kitch? What does that mean?’
‘Our television programme’s designed to inflame the public. How do I do that with your topic? I mean are you simply going to tell them what you’ve told me and nothing more?’
Warrior’s mental processes stopped in their tracks for a moment. ‘Well, yes,’ he responded casually, puzzled by the other man’s reaction. ‘I’m a messenger selected by the Gods to deliver their message.’
‘Oh, come on, Stephen!’ challenged Brendan sharply. ‘There’s got to be more in it than that! To start with, you don’t represent anything like a messenger of the Gods. You have a soft voice and you have no obvious leadership qualities. I have to offer viewers something startling... something outstanding... but you don’t seem to have it.’
Warrior stared at him for about twenty seconds and then rose from his seat. ‘I’m sorry you have such a poor opinion of me, Mr. Moses,’ he managed to say. I regret having wasted your time.’
He was about to leave when the tracer grabbed his arm, holding him to the spot. ‘Wait a minute!’ he said, realising that he had been too harsh. ‘Maybe I did come on a bit strong. Sit down for one minute and hear me out.’
The messenger gazed into the other man’s eyes for a moment and then returned reluctantly to his seat. ‘Look,’ he told him. ‘I understand if you don’t want me on your programme. It’s not such a big deal... although I would like the opportunity to express my message to the people.’
‘Your topic will set light to everyone’s imagination but only if we present it in the right way. I suggest that the programme’s prefaced by documentary material showing the Gods being worshipped by ancient civilisations but I’ll need more from you. Any ideas?’
‘What can say? That Jesus Christ got it all wrong in declaring there was only one true God? That’s the case although I’m not sure your audience will want to hear it.’
The mind of the tracer began to race with excitement. ‘You could explain how you saw visions and explain specifically what the Gods said to you. It would also help if you told everyone what they looked like. And you can pause in the middle of sentences as if you’re some kind of a mystic.’
’A mystic!’ Warrior shook his head slowly. ‘you’re setting me up to be some kind of clown,’ he accused. ‘Some kind of a crank or a crackpot!’
‘Not at all,’ retorted Brendan fervently. ‘My job’s to ensure that the subjects for the programme are spectacular. It’s no good putting someone on the screen if it doesn’t cause concern and alarm or a violent reaction from the public. Jus to say you’re a messenger of the Gods is not enough. Anyone could say that. I want you to dig deep to think of something that’ll make the eyes of the viewing audience become glued to the screen. Do you think you can do that?’
‘If I don’t, are you saying I wouldn’t qualify?’ Warrior became a little concerned about being rejected.
‘I don’t know yet. I always get a gut feeling when something sensational is about to hit the fan. My advice is to gear yourself up to make it happen.’
‘I’m loath to say anything that isn’t true,’ stated the messenger forcefully.
‘’Everything under the sun’s true,’ declared Moses adamantly. ‘Don’t you kid yourself it isn’t. You only have to listen to a Court case to realise there are two sides to every story... both of them claiming to be telling the truth. You’ve heard the saying ‘Truth is stranger than fiction’... we’ll there you have it!’
‘So you’re saying I can tell the people anything I want to whether it’s true or not providing it excites your audience. ‘
Brendan’s eyes glowed. ‘That’s it in a nutshell! I don’t know what you’ve seen or heard, or what goes on in your mind, or in Heaven. It’s up to you what you tell the public but it has to be good or they’ll become bored. Am I getting through to you?’
‘Loud and clear, Mr. Moses,’ returned Warrior sadly. ‘Is that all your viewers are looking for... something out of the ordinary... something contentious?’
‘If they weren’t, we wouldn’t be talking here this evening. Let’s have some coffee!’ He leaned out of the cubicle and called to the waiter. ‘Two coffees please!’ He turned back to the other man. ‘Is this going to be a great programme, or is it?’
‘It means a lot to me to get my message across,’ he uttered in his soft voice. ‘It’s a bit different to a hundred people in a hall.’
‘There’ll be about thirteen million people watching. It’s not a peak time programme... not yet. John Trevor-Edwards is the host. He’s quite a draw himself.’
The messenger took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘What if I started off by saying I have a message from the Gods and Goddesses in the celestial kingdom. That Christ was wrong in his teachings. That he was influenced by the Devil to say that everyone should pray to one God... the Devil! This will prove that Christianity’s the work of Satan. Then I can tell them about the visions I had and what they’re like impressing the message that everyone should start to pray to many Gods and not just one. That religion must change in its nature for every person on this earth or... .’ He tailed off into silence.
‘Or what?’
‘Or the end of the world will come within the next twenty-five years if people refuse to honour them. There will be floods, fire, war, earthquakes, tsunamis and famine.’
The tracer thought about the words for a few moments in case he felt that the situation had gone over the top. Then he came to a conclusion. ‘I like it!’ he said jubilantly. ‘Do as the Gods say or they will destroy you... within the next twenty-five years! That gives us ample time to duck out. The programme will have peaked out long before then.’
‘Will such statements be satisfactory?’
‘I think you’ll need to go into a trance when you say things like that. Let the yellow show in your eyes.’
‘Yellow?’
‘You’re from outer space... from the celestial kingdom. I like that phrase. Don’t worry, the television crew can make your eyes turn yellow.’
‘By the way,’ continued Warrior now in his flow. ‘There is a talent I do have. I’m a healer!’
Moses stared directly into the other man’s eyes. ‘You mean like Christ?’
‘Well I can’t bring back people from the dead but I do have a high incidence of successful hands-on healing.’
‘Now you’re cooking, buster!’ exclaimed the tracer almost bursting with excitement. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before. It makes all the difference!’
‘It does?’
‘You are the reincarnation of Jesus Christ except that the message is different. I mean, at a stretch, you could be called the Messiah!’
‘I don’t think I’m a Messiah,’ disclaimed Warrior with a smile touching his lips. I’m merely a messenger of the Gods.’
‘What’s a Messiah then?’
‘It’s a liberator... a deliverer. I�
��m neither of those, I assure you.’
Moses fell silent not wishing to enter into the realm of semantics. ‘If you tell the public that you are one, we have a deal,’ he told the messenger. ‘What do you say?’
‘I suppose I could stretch the truth,’ came the reply. ‘I’m not too happy about it but if that’s what you want, so be it.’
The tracer bent down to pick up his briefcase and opened it, removing some papers. ‘This is a contract for you to appear on the show and I suggest you read the clauses very carefully. For example, we’re not responsible for any harm that might come to you in the studio if there is violent reaction from the audience.’
‘Fair enough!’ returned Warrior calmly. ‘Where’s the part about payment? How much do I get?’
The tracer’s eyebrows shot up at the remark. ‘I didn’t think you were in it for the money. I thought you were a messenger for the Gods!’
‘I have to live,’ bleated the other man lamely.
‘You’ll have to discuss the financial side with my Director. You won’t be disappointed if you agree to all the conditions. Now if you just sign the contract, I think we’re done.’
Warrior took the pen offered to him by the tracer and signed his name at the bottom of the page. ‘What now?’ he asked.
Brendan stuffed the contract into his briefcase before replying. ‘Wait until I contact you to meet my Director. He’ll probably fit you into a slot in about three weeks’ time. Is there anything you want to ask me?’
‘No... I think I’ve got the picture.’ returned the messenger.
At that point, the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee which he placed on the table. Moses seemed to relax but he left the tape-recorder running. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself,’ he asked innocuously.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Warrior firmly. ‘My father was not a carpenter and I was not born out of divine intervention. So any comparison with Christ is out of order.’
‘But the public will want to know something about you to prove your credibility. Where you came from... where you were educated... whether you’re married... and so on. The Press will ask the same questions.’