by Lars Teeney
Ravine-Gulch bowed his head, and appeared to be in deep contemplation, which he did for several moments. At long last he raised his head and stood up slowly. He nodded his head at the President to signal that he was ready. The large screen in front of them depicted the Reverend, and judging by his red face and violent convulsions he was reaching the crescendo of his sermon; on the verge of announcing the return of the Lord’s minions to Rapture all the Virtuous souls from the world, and for the world to be consumed in fire.
“Okay. Here I go.” Ravine stepped over to the fleshy heap of metal and tumorous growths that were the Reverend. The President drew near, watching intently.
“Yes, just place your hand upon the scanner—that is all you really must do. Hurry now, he’s about to announce the Second Coming!” President John W. Schrubb instructed, with wild eyes.
“Great...but first. I must make a slight alteration.” Ravine fingered the last ‘Database’ dose in a belt pouch. He thought about the last of the drug-induced visions that he had experienced: Graham Wynham’s gift and legacy to him. He smiled and plunged the ‘Database’ applicator into the chaotic abscess that was the form of the Reverend.
“What the hell did you just do?” The President yelled excitedly, worked up, he receded into a coughing and wheezing fit. The bellowing, fleshy computer, began to spasm violently. On the screen behind them the Reverend’s program started to glitch and his visual representation stuttered, with artifacts and memory leaks. In some places, his form was corrupted with “dingbats” and random numbers. His audio skipped and sputtered.
Somewhere through the vast network of cables, leading to all the B.A.G. venues, traveled the synthetic proteins, encoded with the data from the ‘Database’ dose: being literally a virus in a techno-organic computer network. It spread, attacked, and shut down crucial systems pertinent to the triggering of Armageddon. The Reverend’s form ceased its violent glitching, and order was restored. The audience was up in arms: many were crying out in horror. Children sobbed, being scared from the display. Members of the congregation remarked about the Reverend being possessed by Satan. The Reverend’s southern charm and cowboy swagger was replaced by that of a remorseful, weeping simpleton. Tears streamed down his digitally-rendered face: the expression was almost cartoon-like. The people in the physical audience and in the virtual realm, who received the broadcast displayed on their retinal H.U.D.s, did not know what to make of the display. Then, the crying Reverend began to speak.
“Followers and faithful of the Church of New Megiddo: I have committed grievous sins, in my existence! I have lied to each and every one of you for years-upon-years! Hell, I ain’t even human: just a virtual construct cooked-up by the government of New Megiddo to keep y’all docile and obedient sheep!” The Reverend’s original programming conflicted with his new code, and his avatar spasmed and flickered. The people in the audience, specifically at R.F.K. stadium in New Megiddo City, heckled and hissed at the virtual representation. Some threw objects that passed through the projection, and some cursed the abomination to Hell, other sat on the ground silently, realizing that they had built their lives upon a lie.
President Schrubb fell back upon a pew, in shock, gasping and struggling for air. He witnessed every meticulous illusion that he had built-up over the years stripped-away in just a few seconds of speech. Church personnel scrambled to find a way to shut the Reverend’s broadcast down. Vice-Deacon Paulus expressed a look of pure horror. He signaled to his personal detail that they should leave. Armed Rangers escorted him off the stage to an exit, shielding him from the debris and refuse that was hurled toward the stage. Other minor officials left the stage as well. The crowd surged forward but Rangers clad in riot gear and shields formed a line and held the perimeter.
Elsewhere all over New Megiddo City regulars and Rangers were given the order to redeploy and descend upon the Church of New Megiddo Central Authority building in the Divinity Center. The President had issued the silent order via his neural implant.
“Yes, I’ve been a naughty, little Reverend, spewing lies and filth to y’all this entire time. I need to come clean about something else: there ain’t gonna be any Second Coming today, no sir. Now, I’m not saying Jesus Christ and your God ain’t real. I’m just saying that he ain’t coming down here for you on this day. It was a lie cooked-up by the Church and the Schrubb Administration. They were gonna sacrifice each and every one of you in a nuclear holocaust. But, fortunately, the Apostates acted to make sure that would not happen. Well, my time with y’all is nearly at an end. I said my piece. Time for me to face virtual oblivion, and go to “paradise”. Once more: sorry for ruining your lives! Bye for now.” The Reverend’s avatar flickered and flared, and some of the bits went black. Distortions increased until finally his form discorporated entirely. The audience of the B.A.G. looked on in amazement and terror. Some speculated that it had been Apostate propaganda; a hacker’s trick, and others cried to the heavens in absolute despair.
The President laughed hysterically, sitting on the pew, then coughed some more. He shot a look at Ravine and shook his index finger repeatedly. The President received reports over the [Virtue-net] of riots at B.A.G. venues, and throughout the nation region forces clashed with rioters in the streets.
“Sneaky: you tricky, son of a whore! I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming. But, no matter: military units are converging on this building. It’ll take some time, but I will undo the damage that you have caused. You won’t leave this building alive—sneaky, you!” The President continued to laugh and cough alternately.
“I didn’t plan to leave here alive: I have to usher in Armageddon remember?” Ravine casually placed his hand on the scanner above the pulsating, hair and mole covered mass of flesh and cables, and his D.N.A. was read, which triggered a reaction deep within the techno-organic machine. The faces of Ravine’s friends—deceased and living—flashed through his mind’s eye: Aqua-Deluge, Pale-Silence, Blaze-Scorch, and Gale-Whirlwind; his love. President John W. Schrubb’s eyes widened, and he conjured the energy to jump to his feet and rush toward Ravine.
“WHAT ARE YOU—” was all he had time to get out before the blinding light consumed all.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
HUDDLED MASSES
Gale-Whirlwind coordinated the assault on Macomb’s Dam Bridge in conjunction with Pride-Swarm and Angel-Seraphim. Gale watched the assault’s progress atop a hill in the old park that overlooked the entrance to the bridge. Two armored columns were approaching the bridge from opposite directions, while infantry tailed the A.P.C.s, ready to exploit any breach in the defenses created by the A.P.C.s. Angel-Seraphim and Pride-Swarm each commanded a wing of the attack force. Pride-Swarm’s armored column advanced straight for the fortified-bunker that commanded the approach. The firing ports of the bunker spewed forth rapid-fire from Gatling cannons, that sprayed the lead armored vehicle, but was ineffective. Rangers fired small arms at Angel-Seraphim’s column on the opposite side from behind the barricade that blocked the roadway. Also, concealed snipers picked-off Apostate infantry from high above in metal girders of the bridge framework. Turrets mounted atop the A.P.C.s returned fire, which sprayed automatic fire at the hidden snipers.
Suddenly across the river mortar fire was heard, then seconds later the rounds began to impact around the two Apostate columns. Militia dropped to the ground for cover. The next mortar round directly hit the A.P.C. behind Angel-Seraphim’s vehicle. The explosion overturned the A.P.C. and reduced it to a burning heap. The snipers up in the framework of the bridge took full advantage of the disarray in the Apostate ranks. Men were helpless as snipers shot them where they laid. Angel-Seraphim witnessed the slaughter, and she became distraught.
“Fuck this death trap,” she said to herself. Angel flung open the side hatch of her A.P.C. and ran as fast as she could toward the barricade. She weaved this way and that, avoiding sniper fire and mortar round explosions. When the militia saw this stunt, some men shouted to provide suppressive fire for Angel
, and others got to their feet and followed her charge. Angel brought her spear to the ready and ignited the plasma tip. When she reached the base of the barricade a Ranger brought his gun over the side to line up a shot. She thrust her spear through his rifle; it burned a fine hole through the composite material. He dropped the wrecked weapon. Angle pulled herself up on the precipice of the barricade. Three Rangers set upon her when she got to her feet; one was shot down from among the advancing ranks of the Apostates. The two remaining Rangers stabbed at her with their bayonets. Angel parried repeated blows, then, sent a thrust of the spear through the helmet of one of the Rangers, which passed through as if it made of air. His head fell away from his body. She blocked another blow, horizontally, with the shaft of the spear, then tripped the other Ranger up with the butt end of the spear, and finally, planted the plasma blade into the chest where the Ranger laid, dispatching him.
The militia was up over the barricade now, and skirmished with the snipers above and engaged in hand-to-hand fighting with the Rangers. Angel-Seraphim shot a glance to the opposite end of the bridge. She saw black smoke rising from exhausts. It was a Regime armored column of Martyr tanks, advancing to engage.
“Gale—Pride: call off the attack! There’s a column of Martyrs approaching on the far side of the bridge! They’ll wipe us out!” Angel sent the urgent message over the [Apostate-net]. Between the shelling, snipers, and the advancing Regime armored column, Angel thought that the battle looked bleak for the militia.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Hades-Perdition stepped out of the ransacked, mansion foyer to get some fresh air and escape the smell of death that permeated Kate Schrubb’s residence. He looked around the front drive and garden for a hose to rinse the blood off him and wash his wounds. He still felt dizzy from the impact of the bullet grazing his head, and he was exhausted. He took a seat on the front steps of the mansion, trying to recompose himself. The night air was humid but mild for this time of year. A near overwhelming sound of thousands, if not millions, of cicadas, played their songs for miles around. Other than that, everything was silent, save for the far-off, muted explosions coming from New Megiddo City, some thirty miles away. Aside from the carnage that Hades just experienced, the chaos of Armageddon seemed like a distant nightmare. This was the first moment of peace he had experienced since landing on the beaches of the Chesapeake. He let the calm wash over him.
Hades looked up at the cloudless night sky. The stars shone and the halos of light surrounded the sliver moon. As he peered off at the horizon: he saw the distant sky begin to glow. Hades’s interest was piqued. The glow increased to a flash that dominated more and more of the night sky. Hades jumped to his feet. A yellowish-orange dome of plasma and fire formed and expanded into the sky, illuminating the darkness of the night. It became so bright he turned away from fear of going blind. He took cover in the doorway of the mansion. Finally the remnants of a spent shock-wave blasted across the mansion, which shook the A.P.C. out front, and rocked the timber frame of the mansion, causing the wood to moan, then, it dissipated. Hades walked back outside, still in disbelief. Was this the Regime’s Armageddon that was successfully executed? Did millions of people just die? Hades ran to the late Inquisitor’s A.P.C. and started it up, then sped down the winding mansion driveway.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
The Apostate militia retreated from the hard-won barricade. The lead Martyr tank let its cannon spew forth a shell. The round bit into the barricade and sprayed shrapnel into the backs of retreating militia. The A.P.C’s laid down covering fire as the militia scurried back up the hill toward the heights of the park. Another shot was loosed from the lead Martyr, which tore into an armored vehicle like a lion to the haunches of a wildebeest. Soon, the lead tank was through the barricade and pursuing the retreating Apostate forces. The tank column fanned-out when it was over the bridge, and began their deadly barrage, which laid into fleeing formations of men, tht sent shredded bodies flung wayward.
Then, the horizon to the south lit up with an intense glow. The battle took a short pause as the opposing forces tried to make sense of what was happening. From across the river, a loud roar could be heard from the stadium. It was the sound of thousands of people, that cried out in despair and outrage in unison. The Regime armor maneuvered to break-off the pursuit and turned to travel back over the bridge to the safety of the other bank, in the Bronx. When Gale-Whirlwind witnessed this behavior she was perplexed.
“What the hell is going on down there? Why did they break off the attack?” Gale was in communication with both Pride and Angel.
“Hard to say: they had us, but they turned back. I’m guessing it’s related to that strange flash we saw to the south or that turmoil at the stadium! I’m getting reports of unrest from all over—something happened at the B.A.G.,” Pride informed the two.
“Yes, it was very strange! They could have killed us. Maybe they are being recalled to deal with the upheaval?” Angel theorized. Just then, Gale was hailed by Hades-Perdition. She opened the channel.
“Hades! Thank the stars you’re alive!” Gale exclaimed.
“Yeah, but just barely! Listen: somebody just nuked New Megiddo City!” Hades was still in shock about what he witnessed.
“What? Are you hurt from the explosion? The entire Capital is gone?” Gale could not believe what she was hearing.
“I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out. I’m on the road north, heading to link-up with you,” Hades informed her.
“That makes sense: we were under heavy attack here, and then the Regime forces just broke off and retreated. If the Regime is destroyed, they’ll probably—wait a minute! Have you heard from Ravine-Gulch? He was in New Megiddo City.” A feeling of dread overcame Gale. She scoured the [Apostate-net] for any sign of Ravine.
“Negative: I haven’t heard from him. But, if this is his handiwork, I’d say we made the right choice letting him go off on his own!” Hades confessed.
“Wait! But, we didn’t liberate the Born Again Gathering in New Megiddo City! There were thousands of people in that stadium! All those innocent Regime soldiers were massed around the Capital, not to mention—millions of fucking people!” Gale-Whirlwind was horrified: the sudden realization that a nuclear holocaust had just taken place hit her, and she was party to it, all in the name of removing the Regime.
“Yes, it’s true. But, what could be done? The Church and the Regime had to go. We didn’t have the forces to remove them conventionally.” Hades tried to justify the collateral damage.
“There could have been a different way! We murdered millions—” Her sentence was interrupted when she saw that she was sent an encrypted message: it was from Ravine-Gulch.
“I’m receiving a message from Ravine! I’m going to take it! I’ll let you know—out!” Gale terminated the communiqué with Hades and switched windows in her retinal H.U.D. to the message from Ravine.
“Ravine! What the hell is going on? I’m so glad you’re okay! Where are you?” Gale asked nervously. When she accepted she was presented with the face of Ravine, with a serene expression on his face, but he did not look directly at her. The faces presented during a communication within a retinal H.U.D. were always rendered as avatars, but they were photo-realistic. Ravine’s avatar seemed detached.
“Greta, my love: I am glad that you are safe. I am sorry to have failed you so many times in life. I just hope that in time you will come to forgive me, and that one day you realize I did everything I did for you, so you can continue your life in peace...”
“Ravine...Marco!” She tried to interrupt his speech, but he did not pause. He just kept talking.
“...today I had learned things about my past: terrible things—but things that I was glad that I learned because it put everything into perspective. My life had been preordained for a purpose, first the Vatican, by the President, and finally, by Graham Wynham. He divulged his plan for me, and me alone, and told me to keep it from the rest of you. I won’t go into detail, but today
the plan succeeded...” Ravine continued unabated.
“Ravine! Let me speak!” It was no use; he did not relent.
“...I made a decision—a historic decision: one that will be looked back upon in history as both a great victory and dark tragedy. This decision resulted in—probably—the deaths of millions. But, I deemed it necessary to rid the world of an evil that surely would have cost millions more lives lost...” She began to shed tears, as she listened to what he said; it started to make sense.
“God, Ravine. What did you do?” she said softly, as she shaked her head in disbelief.
“...I stopped the nuclear holocaust that the Regime had planned coast-to-coast at B.A.G. venues, but I had to detonate one bomb—one that scoured the Church and Regime off the map. I weighed the price of that action, and I take full responsibility for every death. I will not be rewarded for my action, my legacy will be that of a butcher, and rightfully so. I implore you to use me as the bogeyman that will be needed to explain this event...”
“Marco...why?” Gale buried her head in her hands. His unabated speech reached its climax.
“...so, now there is a clean slate in the land. I recorded this message: by the time you hear this I will have passed on from this world, perishing in the cleansing fire that dispatched the Regime. You were the last thing that I thought about before I committed the act. Farewell, Greta, my love...you were the one thing that kept me going.” The message cut off, and distortion filled her retinal H.U.D. Ravine had gone, and he had taken New Megiddo with him.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Hades-Perdition had driven up the coast to rendezvous with the rest of the Apostate militia inside the Bronx, New York. Hades received reports that remnant Regime forces had vacated New York and fled north to the Border Fortress Wall. They would consolidate their forces there, and some new upstart would claim he was in command, then, Hades figured, there would be a new fight on their hands. In fact, Hades realized that the real challenge was not toppling the Regime: the most trying challenge would be what sprang up in the Regime’s absence. There would need to be an Apostate-led interim-government and armed forces set up as quickly as possible, to minimize the chaos, and fights between those vying for power. Hades question was: did he really want to be in the center of that shit storm? He was in a unique position to cobble said government together. He just never fancied the life of a politician.