The Apostates

by Lars Teeney

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  The task force of ships stopped in the Canary Islands for resupply and respite. They had weighed anchor at Maspalomas, and the crew of the Iowa was able to get shore leave. The President had been unloaded and brought to an undisclosed villa. Burke had taken it upon himself to see the sites of the island. Being a nautical history buff he had already known some information about the island’s history. He was aware, that according sources, the island been visited by ancient people such as the Phoenicians and the Greeks. Explorers of antiquity that for their times were sailing beyond the edge of the known world. The sailors and mathematicians of antiquity had a pretty good idea that the Earth was curved, so these adventurers didn’t think they were going to fall off a table top, but they did know they were venturing into “aqua incognito”. When the Carthaginian explorer, Hanno the Navigator reached the Canary Islands, he found sizable ancient ruins, even by his era’s standard. These islands were ancient indeed. Burke wondered if the story of the ruins found here contributed to the legend of Atlantis or Thule. He figured that these Islands were in the Atlantic and that there were definitely signs there had been civilization here before recorded history. The possibilities overwhelmed him.

  Burke referenced an old book on the ruins and geological sites of the islands, he was headed to a Guanche Sanctuary, named for the native inhabitants of the Islands. He thought of the possibility of a prehistoric material society with African roots, and the epic events that must have occurred before the ancient explorers made contact. Burke approached a strange, ancient structure, not unlike a miniature Stone Henge. In the center of several concentric circles of laid rocks, was a tower of black standing stones, roughly ten feet tall.

  Burke wondered about the people who had built the rock structure, and the successive civilizations that had visited and colonized the islands, the Romans, the Mauritanians, the Islamic Berbers, the Portuguese, and the last in the race, the Spanish, who currently possessed the islands as colonies. Now here Burke stood, an American. He had come too late and lost the race by at least five hundred years. These days the islands were little more than a tourist trap. Colonialism, the slave trade, and economic exploitation had taken its toll, but the Islands still retained a primordial quality, timeless in nature.

  The vast void of the Atlantic stood in front of Burke and the sun was plotting to conceal itself beyond the curvature of the earth. The light was fading. Burke walked back to the cab line, awaiting fares. He hired one to drive him back to town. The crew now knew where they were taking the President. The Iowa was to deliver him to Algeria, which would complete the first leg of the President’s journey. He was heading to Tehran, Iran for a conference with the leaders of his allies, Joseph Stalin, and Winston Churchill. Burke wondered if this voyage would be his claim to fame and how he would be known in the annals of history. It had been a wild ride so far, but he still felt unfulfilled. There must be something more. Burke was convinced that he had yet to play a larger part in the affairs of the world. History was not finished with him.

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  BAGGERS

  The advert for the Born Again Gathering was bombastic, obnoxious, and tedious, but also unavoidable. When the Church of New Megiddo sent out a broadcast over the [Virtue-net] there was no changing the channel. The drug ‘Database’ worked on the same technology that the New Megiddo church broadcast used, to make their broadcasts addictive. When the broadcast commenced the neural implant of the user would interface with neurons to release endorphins, this causing the brain to associate the broadcast with pleasure. What better way for your congregation to feel the rapturous nature of divinity?

  The advert was like a mandatory public service announcement. The B.A.G. occurred every ten years, with a pilgrimage to local stadiums for an excessive rally for church and state.

  “Bagger”, was the term the Apostates used for members of society that were devoted to the Church of New Megiddo and to the Born Again Gathering. The Apostates viewed these people like zombies because they had submitted wholeheartedly to the effects of the [Virtue-net] and the implants. They were just religious ‘Base’ heads. Never the less, they were the fodder that fueled the Regime in its days of waning power. As their grip weakened the fire and brimstone rhetoric intensified. That is what was so different about this year’s event. The adverts mentioned that the Second Coming of the Lord would occur on that day, and the Reverend Wilhelm Wainwright would initiate it.

  The Arch-Deacon von Manstein had finished reviewing the B.A.G. advert on his retinal H.U.D. He wore a look of exuberance on his face. He was elated. Hardly being able to contain himself as he spoke to the church officials that were gathered around the massive donut-shaped table that surrounded a holographic display terminal. The terminal projected a three-dimensional representation of the Reverend Wilhelm.

  “Reverend, cardinals, I say to you that this announcement is what we have been waiting for our entire lives. The return of our Lord, cometh to lead his flock home, beyond the reach of the Serpent!” the Arch-Deacon proclaimed.

  Arch-Deacon von Manstein was the highest ranking clergyman in the Church of New Megiddo, save for the Reverend Wilhelm. He was an elderly and sentimental man. Deep set, beady eyes were hidden behind thick variable magnification smart glasses, as he was nearly blind. He wore a black tunic that featured a white cross emblazoned on the front, the head of cross meeting the collar of the garment, the horizontal bar met the shoulders, the tail of the cross was extended beyond the crotch via an extension of the tunic that ran down to the knees. This was the uniform of the head clergy of the Church of New Megiddo. The Arch-Deacon von Manstein wore a black flat top cap, donned with the white cross that repeated all the way around the cap.

  “Brother von Manstein, so I judge by your glee that everything is in place for the Gathering, and it will take place without a hitch? We must stay ever vigilant for any Apostate presence. They are always a threat,” the representation of the Reverend Wilhelm had asked, with the occasional snow and disturbance coursing through his avatar.

  “Good Reverend, The Schrubb administration has assured me that L.O.V.E. is tightening the noose around the Apostates and should be commencing a final assault, soon,” Von Manstein happily reported.

  “Brother von Manstein, you do realize that among the Apostates are former Regime members and that they have an informant somewhere inside the government. Rodrigo has informed the Regime about this fact,” the Reverend reported with an air of authority.

  “Good Reverend, what can they possibly do? The military has been mobilized and L.O.V.E. is hot on their heels. They couldn’t possibly—” von Manstein was suddenly cut off, with a shocked look on his withered face.

  “von Manstein, you do not seem to understand the stakes here. If we do not put a contingency plan in motion, in the event that the military and L.O.V.E fail, then that leaves the B.A.G. exposed,” the Reverend paused. von Manstein took the opportunity to interject, “Reverend, sir, the Church is sparing no expense to prepare for the B.A.G. and for the return of our Lord! Our coffers are empty! We cannot support any other operations besides the preparations. It’s not—” von Manstein was cut short, this time the Reverend was furious.

  “Listen to me, von Manstein. You will appropriate funding for this problem. All of you holy men live like fucking Byzantine princes. Cut back on some of the wine and altar boys! You can go without for a while. Learn from those fuckin’ monks from the past. It’s the Second fuckin’ Coming, what do you think you’re gonna do with all this shit anyway?” The Reverend was red in the face, and the three-dimensional avatar release spittle from the mouth as it yelled.

  The room was silent now. The clergy leaders looked at one another in confusion. The leadership of the Church did not know what to make of this directive. They had never been made to cut their expenses before. In an environment where dissent was utterly crushed, they had never been confronted with phenomena such as church reformers or splinter groups. If the Reverend was no
t their spiritual leader they would have just branded him an Apostate and had him executed. This went against all protocols and precedent. How could the clergy possibly go without worldly pleasures, especially right before the end of the world? It was a time to celebrate and let loose, not a time to conserve and be frugal. They had felt betrayed by the Reverend and his overbearing directives.

  After a time of silence and muted murmurs, Cardinal Zhukov, a squat, fat man with red cheeks, a bald head with overgrown hair on the sides and back, and bushy eyebrows, spoke up, “Reverend Wilhelm, I am sure that every cardinal and deacon will do their part to find funding for any necessary actions by the church. I for one, recommend ordaining the Prelate to take on the task of dealing with the Apostates,” the Cardinal suggested, with a bushy eyebrow arched.

  The representation of the Reverend peered over the table at Zhukov and spoke, “That is an interesting proposition you have there, my dear Zhukov. The Prelate has a perfect record, yes?

  “Yes, Reverend, she has served the Church on many occasions and has never failed us in the past. The Prelate may be able to get this job done before L.O.V.E. has a chance to act. Thus we can ensure that the Rapture goes ahead without the threat of terrorist attacks,” Zhukov plotted.

  “Cardinal Zhukov, you possess a certain propensity for logic that y’all other holy men would be wise to learn from. Make the arrangements to cut your budgets and allocate the funds to ordain the Prelate.” The Reverend approved the plan.

  Ordaining a Prelate was like contracting a hitman by the mafia, except these targets were the enemy of god. The Church of New Megiddo had worked with many Prelates in its existence. Most were completely inferior to the operatives of the government and so after many failures they shelved the practice. They did retain one highly successful Prelate for emergencies. They had made special accommodations for her, built a bunker safe house in some undisclosed location, paid an annual retainer fee, and had procured her a pre-war form of transportation. She was an investment that the Church needed right now, on the eve of the Second Coming.

  “Well, gentlemen, I suspect that is all we have to discuss today. I will require updates very soon. Y’all dismissed. Except you, Zhukov, you stay here because I need a word.”

  The rest of the cardinals and deacons shuffled out of the conference room. There was Cardinal Montgomery, Cardinal Badoglio, Vice Deacon Paulus, Cardinal Petrov, and lastly Church Treasurer Bradley. They walked slowly and solemnly like dogs that had been disciplined with a newspaper. What most stung is that they would be left out of any intriguing machinations that may be brewing.

  “Cardinal Zhukov, you have proven that you can solve problems, potentially, and this shows me that you can be trusted with other sensitive matters. My friend, as you know there is a mole within the government that no one can pin down. Both ministries are throwing resources at the problem, and I don’t think they are going to get anywhere. They only see what’s in front of them. The Schrubb pups have a petty rivalry that blinds them. The Apostates will dance rings around them like a mongoose does a cobra. And, I fear, that our friends over at L.O.V.E. will simply not be enough to do the trick. I just think that Rodrigo is not a pious man, and so his organization will fail because God does not favor him. It would be disastrous for us if it was not the Church of New Megiddo who brought the Apostates to answer before the Lord’s court,” the Reverend preached, almost like he was giving a sermon.

  “Reverend, sir, I agree...that is why I suggested ordaining the Prelate. Isn’t that what this is about?” Cardinal Zhukov asked, puzzled.

  “Good Zhukov, surely you have taken notice of Arch-Deacon von Manstein? He does not act decisively, he stalls, and he second-guesses my orders. In fact, I do not think his heart is in anything we are trying to accomplish. von Manstein clings to all his worldly possessions. He is afraid of the Lord’s return. I think he does not want it to occur. So, this has convinced me that he has cast his lot with the Apostates. I believe he is the informant within the Regime, but I need hard proof. I can’t just make the second highest official in the Church of New Megiddo disappear this close to our glorious day,” the Reverend was getting ahead of Zhukov.

  “Yes, good Reverend, I suppose that makes perfect sense. We all should have seen that a long time ago.” Zhukov was a bit of a sycophant at this moment.

  “Well, that’s quite alright, we’re all human, fallible in the eyes of the Lord. This is where you can redeem yourself. I need you, sir, to come up with hard evidence that von Manstein is in league with the Apostates. If you do this for me, then you will preside over the Church for its remainder of its time in this forsaken realm until the Lord’s glorious return.” The Reverend dangled the carrot.

  “Reverend, I don’t think I am worthy of this honor, von Manstein, and I know each other well, he will know...that...I suspect him of something,” Zhukov protested as best he could, short of being charged with heresy. Zhukov had spoken the truth. He and von Manstein had been close. They had first met during childhood in one of the Church of New Megiddo H.O.V.E.L.s for children. ‘Homes of Virtue, Education and Love’ were state facilities where orphaned children of Apostates would be indoctrinated into the system of the Church and Regime. Also, if they did not already possess a networked neural implant, they would receive the operation there. von Manstein and Zhukov had been children of an Apostate settlement in the ruins of Las Vegas. Regime forces had reduced the settlement to rubble and detained most of the Apostate population there for trial, the children were sent to H.O.V.E.L.s.

  The two had befriended each other where they inhabited the same boarding room. Where most kids did not take well to the state re-education program, Zhukov and von Manstein thrived and embraced it. They were fascinated with the mythos and lore of the fabricated history of the Church of New Megiddo and that of the Schrubb administration. The pair could not wait to hear more of the story, like pre-adolescent boys in Twentieth-century America craved the adventure that superheroes had.

  Once the two had finished the state indoctrination program at the H.O.V.E.L., they had each become interested in joining the Church at a young age, barely out of their teenage years. Zhukov and von Manstein had parted ways but kept in contact. von Manstein entered the lower level priesthood in a local church, where it was required for the male clergy to live together to foster brotherhood. In this patriarchy, it was expected that the junior membership would pay their dues to the Lord, by submitting to late night visits by senior priesthood to their bed chambers, to provide “guidance’ to the newly ordained members. The newly recruited members had no defense against this practice, and going against the practice would get one ousted from the church and labeled an Apostate.

  Zhukov had followed a similar path up through the ranks of the Church priesthood. He learned the ins and outs of Church politics, but also took full advantage of the benefits of Church membership. He gave his share of guidance to junior members of the priesthood. As they got older, they both joined the central leadership of the church. Zhukov and von Manstein had rekindled their friendship, plotting various Church intrigues and sharing stories of “providing guidance” to junior members and to young congregation members alike. von Manstein was usually the leader and Zhukov the subordinate, a passive party to whatever schemes and adventures von Manstein had dreamed up, true that Zhukov contributed to the details, but von Manstein was the architect.

  The pair had gotten to know each other, personality details, quirks, habits, and vices like a pair of siblings. So it was this detail that Zhukov worried about when he thought about attempting subterfuge against von Manstein. He would sniff it out like a boar to a truffle. Zhukov was in fear; he was stuck. He could not refuse the Reverend, which would be a death sentence. But it would also be so if von Manstein detected his betrayal. The Reverend would certainly not step in on Zhukov’s behalf and reveal his gambit.

  “Cardinal Zhukov! Do I have your support in this matter? It is very important that you do understand the weight of the matter, and the
pickle you’d be in if...” the Reverend trailed off.

  “Yes, Good Reverend! I see the need for concluding this matter!” Zhukov sounded distraught and nervous.

  “Good, Good! This is marvelous. I am glad we could reach an accord, you and I! Do take care, I will hear from you soon,” the Reverend concluded and his three-dimensional avatar petered out into nothingness.

  Cardinal Zhukov let out a loud sound between a sigh of relief and a groan of pain and collapsed on his knees to the floor. Thoughts raced through his brain and he poured through his options. Anyway, he rolled the dice he felt that he would end up dead in the end. Maybe he could go to von Manstein and confessed the plot that faced him. Maybe the two old friends could garner enough support within the Church to somehow take down the Reverend. But how would that work when no one knew the whereabouts of the Reverend Wilhelm. He was even better protected that John W. Schrubb. He came to the conclusion that it was fruitless. Zhukov must submit to the will of the Reverend, and what difference did it make? After all, the end was nigh. The Second Coming was around the corner and they would all be in a better place.

  Zhukov picked himself up off the floor and dusted off his trousers. He waited until he felt composed to leave the conference room. He stepped into a “retro-Gothic”, stone-lined corridor that rose up and converged in Gothic arches. Except, this corridor was not constructed of stone, it was metal cast to give the appearance of masonry. It mimicked the church architecture of the medieval period. The corridor wound off for a distance and disappeared from his line of sight. Numerous doorways veered off to either side of the corridor. The structure was the Church of New Megiddo Central Authority. It was a megalithic structure that rivaled the Tower of the One in stature.