by Joseph Fink
The pastor made a commanding gesture with her arm, and Stephanie pushed Nilanjana on the shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Stephanie whispered. “You can’t ignore the pastor.”
Nilanjana went through her options. One, of course, was to allow herself to be caught. After all, under Night Vale law, what could they do to her? She had not violated any civic code, federal law, or mandate of the secret world government. She’d have to check, but she was pretty sure that even the ancient laws of the lizard people who run all human government had nothing to say about sneaking into a religious service. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like a great idea to be caught by a group that had just been singing about a god eating them.
She could run, of course. There were few situations in which one could not just start running, although the consequences of this action varied quite a bit, and in some situations could include exiting a moving car, being mauled by a bear, or falling off a tightrope. On top of that, the impulse when someone runs is to chase, and that was not an impulse she wanted to ignite in this group.
But she had to do something, and quite quickly, because the decision was about to be made for her. The moment she opened her mouth it would be over. The moment she opened her mouth.
She knew what she had to do. She swayed, dramatically. She put one hand on her stomach. And then she opened her mouth.
“Oh no,” said Jamillah. The pastor’s face radiated anger and disgust. Gordon pulled off his headpiece, revealing his sweaty and worried face.
“Darryl, are you okay, son?” he said.
Nilanjana stood with the vomit still dribbling down the yellow robe from underneath the yellow mesh mask. With the fear pulsing in her gut, it had been easy to intentionally retrieve her breakfast. She gave a loud moan, in the lowest tone she could muster, and then, hand still on stomach, she stumbled out of the room. In the lobby, she figured she had only seconds, and so she opened the door to one of the bathrooms, set the doorknob lock, slammed the door shut, and continued down the hall toward the church offices. Behind her she could hear Gordon’s concerned voice.
“Darryl? Son, are you all right in there?”
Hopefully it would take them some time before their worry about Darryl outweighed their feelings about privacy.
She pulled off her mask and stuck her head in and out of empty office after office until she found Darryl in the pastor’s office, at the bookshelves. His eyes went scared and wide on seeing her.
“What are you doing here?” he said. “Is the service over? Where do they think I am?”
“Um,” she said.
“And what is that all over my robe?”
“I can explain all of that when we’re not in a place where we might be caught. Are those books about what the church is planning?”
“No,” he said. “It’s just a history of the church. We’re not allowed to read this stuff normally, so I couldn’t resist.”
More shouting from the lobby, more knocking on the bathroom door.
“I’m glad you’re indulging your rebellious side. But we need to be looking for evidence of contact with the otherworld.”
He held up a stack of papers.
“I found these. The service wasn’t anywhere near done, so I thought I had time to check out the books.”
She took the papers from him and looked them over. It was page after page of handwritten text, apparently notes taken while studying. The word INVOCATION occurred over and over, always in the same all-caps, thick-lined style.
“Invocation?” she said. “Is that the ceremony of devouring she mentioned in her sermon?”
The knocking got heavier, edging toward pounding. The shouting sounded less worried, more angry. This was taking too long.
“I’ve never heard of the term, but it does look like it’s some kind of ceremony. If I’m understanding these documents correctly, it seems like it will be happening in the next week or so, and uses something called The Book of Devouring, which I also haven’t heard of and can’t find anywhere on these shelves.”
Darryl shook his head.
“None of this makes any sense to me. This isn’t the religion I grew up with.”
“They certainly were talking a lot about devouring during the service.”
“But that’s all metaphor and parable. This is . . . I don’t know what this is. I want to help you figure it out.”
Now the bathroom door was being rattled. They were trying to open it.
“I have to get out of here,” Nilanjana said. “Give me the papers and take this robe. You’re going to need the vomit on it. Also a good excuse for why you just puked and pretended to hide in the bathroom.”
“Why I did what?”
“I’ll meet you at the car.”
She darted out of the pastor’s office and deeper down the hall, assuming there would have to be some sort of exit back there. But she couldn’t find one. Behind her the bathroom door banged open, and the shouting intensified. It would be ideal if she were not here anymore, but the world is rarely ideal.
Giving up on a door, she opened a window and awkwardly squeezed out of it onto the drought-resistant shrubs outside. Scraped from the branches, and finding a leaf in her hair, she jogged a ways into the parking lot before cutting back to the sidewalk and heading toward the car. As she was stepping into the street, a hand fell on her shoulder.
“We need to talk with you.”
The hand belonged to a security guard from the Joyous Congregation. He squinted at her under the blaring sun and over a thick mustache.
“I’m on a public street. You can’t just grab me. You have no right to make me go anywhere.”
“And you,” he said, snatching the bundle of INVOCATION papers out of her bag, “have no right to take church property. Come quietly. We don’t need to call the Secret Police. The pastor only wants to talk.”
24
The woman in the huge rectangular hat smiled at Nilanjana. Gordon, standing behind her, crossed his arms and bared his teeth while stretching his lips wide. It was not a smile at all. It was a grotesque and off-putting expression, and Nilanjana did not know what to make of it. She glanced at Darryl, but he was not looking at her, only at the pastor.
“My, what a lovely day this is,” the pastor said. Her voice was gentle but insincere. Like the wolf dressed up as the grandmother in the fairy tale. All of the stagecraft of kindness, but nothing at the heart of it.
“A great day,” said Gordon, his bizarre grimace even wider than before.
“And why is it a great day, Gordon?” the pastor said.
“It’s great because, well . . . uh.” His stretched lips faltered.
“It’s great because we have a new visitor. Someone who doesn’t know our faith. And she has come to learn from us. That’s a blessing, isn’t it, Gordon?”
“It is,” he said, relieved to be on more certain ground.
“Isn’t it, Darryl?” she said.
Darryl looked surprised to be addressed.
“Yes, Pastor,” he said.
“We want to thank you, Darryl,” the pastor said. “We as a community owe you gratitude. And I as an individual want you to know that I am thankful. For bringing this woman into our services. This curious, curious woman.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” said Gordon.
Nilanjana glared at Darryl. He winked without smiling. Was that supposed to mean “I got you” as in he betrayed her, or “I got you” as in he was on her side?
“I know what you are doing,” Nilanjana said, tired of the games the pastor was playing, and wanted to get this confrontation going. As a scientist, she did not have much interest in games. Except science games, like Is That Beaker Going to Explode? and Will This Catch on Fire if Exposed to Oxygen? (The answer to both questions was almost always yes.)
The pastor took off her hat. Underneath she looked like a normal person. A person wearing a yellow robe and a huge golden medallion in the shape of a sun with some horrible creature wrap
ped around it.
“I find that hard to believe, Ms. Sikdar. Because the fact of the matter is that you don’t even know what you are doing. You are flailing in the dark and hoping you will simply run into the truth. Am I wrong or am I right?”
“Wrong or right, Interloper!” Gordon shouted. It had been a while since Nilanjana had felt the insulting force of that word. Like Carlos had said, she had started getting used to it as a friendly utterance around town by strangers or, at worst, a dismissive grumble. But Gordon put her back in her place as an outsider.
“Gordon, she doesn’t need to answer me. Because I already know the answer. While you are in the dark, Nilanjana Sikdar, we in the Congregation live always in the light. In this situation, I am the one who knows things. You are the one who does not. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.”
Pastor Munn wasn’t wrong. Nilanjana was just guessing. But her gut told her it was a pretty good guess.
“Your church started when you made contact with the desert otherworld,” Nilanjana hazarded. “Your people found something there. A powerful creature. And you started worshiping it as a god.”
These were unsupported hypotheses, baseless allegations. Carlos would be so disappointed. But perhaps saying them aloud might bring real evidence out in conversation.
“And now it’s attacking Night Vale. Hurting people. Killing them,” she continued. “Maybe you are helping it, or baiting it to come closer. Or maybe you are just trying to hinder anyone who wants to stop it. The effect is the same either way. You are to blame for what is happening. Tell me I’m wrong.”
The pastor considered her. Gordon started to shout some variation on “how dare you,” but the pastor held up a finger and he fell silent. Darryl waved to get Nilanjana’s attention, but she kept her eyes on the pastor.
“The Smiling God,” the pastor said, “is coming to swallow Night Vale. It will devour all of us.”
Darryl waved again, and Nilanjana gave in and looked. He winked at her. She had no idea what that meant and wished he would stop winking.
“So you are admitting to everything I just said,” she said.
“It will take all of us inside Its body,” the pastor said. “We will enter the divine Mouth and be consumed.”
Darryl winked again. Nilanjana couldn’t understand what he was trying to convey. He didn’t seem triumphant or devious. He just seemed like a guy who was winking for some reason.
“It’s a metaphor, Nilanjana,” Darryl interjected, realizing his winking wasn’t being understood. “I know some of this devouring talk can sound scary to newcomers. Like we’re trying to get everyone eaten by a monster. But it’s a beautiful metaphor, about how the Smiling God will devour us and, in doing so, take in everything that’s bad about us. It’s a story about the church accepting all people, no matter who they are.”
“A metaphor?”
“Maybe a violent-sounding metaphor.” Darryl shrugged apologetically. “But its meaning is nice, right?”
“A metaphor?” she asked again, this time to the pastor. The pastor was looking at Darryl with an expression that could have been pitiful benevolence or quiet disgust.
“No,” the pastor said, her smile now a scowl.
“No?” said Darryl.
“Absolutely not,” said Gordon. His face had gone red. “Why would we deal in metaphors? We are the faithful, in the house of the Smiling God. Darryl, I thought better of you.”
“Wait,” Darryl said. “But the entire faith is built around the story of the Smiling God devouring our sins, all of our failings, leaving us pure. It’s not real in a historical sense, obviously, but it imbues real meaning into our lives.”
“No, Darryl,” the pastor said. She sounded sad. “I’m sorry that the church failed in its teaching. I’m sure your scientist friend would agree: Why would anyone want to live in fiction? Nilanjana surely understands. She lives a life of hard facts. We too believe in the concrete reality of our spiritual life. The Smiling God is a real, physical thing. It is coming to swallow all of Night Vale.”
“What does that even mean?” Darryl said. “How can the Smiling God swallow anything?”
“Ah, that part is easy,” the pastor said. “Gordon, tell him.”
Gordon straightened with pride.
“Because,” he shouted, “the Smiling God is a centipede.”
“Yes, exactly,” the pastor said. “It’s a giant centipede. It lives in Heaven and It will soon swallow us all.”
“What?” Darryl said.
“I knew it!” Nilanjana said.
“I’m sorry, I thought we were pretty clear about this. There’s one right on our door. Also overlooking the worship hall. The purpose of the Joyous Congregation is to summon a giant centipede and have It eat the entire world.”
“Why?” Nilanjana and Darryl asked, simultaneously.
“Why?” Gordon mocked.
“JOYFULLY IT DEVOURS!” the needlework on the wall said.
The pastor frowned.
“Did you sleep through my sermon? Or were you too busy plotting ways to fail to fool us? Purity. The world is an unjust and impure place. By devouring the rich and the poor, the sinful and the saint, by devouring without discrimination, the Smiling God will purify the world. This is not something we inflict on others. We the faithful will be the first to be eaten. Followed shortly by all other people.”
Darryl stood up.
“I grew up in this church. And I went to all of the services and all of the classes. And you’re telling me that all of that, every moment of every year, was to get a huge centipede to eat the town?”
Gordon stared him down.
“Young man,” he said. “Please watch your tone when you are speaking to your Church Elders. We know what is best for you. What’s best for you is that you get eaten by just a great big centipede.”
“We are a community!” Darryl said.
“Of people who will be eaten by a giant bug, yes,” the pastor said. “I’m getting tired of explaining this.”
“Are you putting out bait?” Nilanjana asked, wanting to finally get hard facts for her research. “Or using some sort of broadcast frequencies to agitate it? How are you getting it to attack us?”
“We haven’t done anything yet,” the pastor said. “I don’t know about any attacks. What the Smiling God does on Its own time is Its own divine business. No, soon we will do a ceremony. A great ceremony that will summon our Smiling God. It’s all in the notes you tried to steal. You can’t have them because they belong to me. But allow me to summarize for you: The Smiling God will be called to rise from the sand and eat everything It sees.”
“Not if I stop you,” said Nilanjana, a not-wise thing to say, but she wasn’t wise, just brilliant.
Gordon laughed.
“Stop us,” the pastor said. She held out her palms. “How would you stop us? We are what is supposed to happen. Do you stop rain? Do you stop earthquakes?”
“Yes,” Nilanjana said. She did not personally do that, but of course all weather and earthquakes were now controlled by NASA, so she was speaking with the collective we of all scientists.
“Ah,” the pastor said. “In that case, if you try to stop us, we will destroy you utterly. We will destroy you so completely that even the traces of the life you’ve lived thus far will be gone. Your own friends won’t remember you, even as they breathe in microscopic dust that used to be your body.”
She beamed.
“I do hope you have a blessed day. May the Smiling God be with you. Until It is actually with you, very soon.
“And, Darryl,” she said, turning back to him. “We want to thank you.”
“We do?” said Gordon. Then, regaining his utter confidence, “We do! Thank you, Darryl.”
“We want to thank you for uncovering this possible plot against our church and bringing Ms. Sikdar to us. It’s so nice to have this time to clear the air with you, Ms. Sikdar. We couldn’t have done it without Darryl.”
&
nbsp; “And what exactly did he do?” Nilanjana asked, looking right at Darryl.
“What he’s supposed to,” said Gordon. “He is a good boy.”
“Nilanjana, listen to me,” said Darryl. “You know me. Everything I told you was true. I didn’t know this would happen.”
But did she know him? Of course she didn’t. She knew what he presented to the world. She knew how his hands felt, what the sweat on his neck smelled like. But that wasn’t knowing someone.
A hand on her shoulder again. The mustachioed guard. She cried out.
“Don’t worry,” said the pastor. “We won’t harm you. The Smiling God will do that for us. But it is time for you to go.”
“Nilanjana, please believe me!” Darryl said, but the pastor motioned him sharply down and he seemed unable to disobey her.
Nilanjana was pulled out of her chair and pushed roughly through a door, and then a hallway, and then another door. She felt the gradients of air-conditioning as she moved from deep inside the building toward the windows of the lobby, and then one last door and she was in the heat of the afternoon.
“You have a good day now,” the guard said.
“Where is Darryl?” If he hadn’t betrayed her, then he could be in danger from the church. Who knew what they would do to him? If he had betrayed her, she wanted to put him in danger herself.
The guard did the weird teeth thing, a child’s accidentally terrifying drawing of a smile.
“He is where he is supposed to be. He is with the community that loves him. It is time for you to go.”
She turned, starting the long walk back to her apartment. She was already thirsty, and she knew that this feeling would get worse every minute of walking in the searing heat.
“I’ll be seeing you,” said the guard. She would be seeing him too. For the next few minutes, every time she closed her eyes, she saw the ghost image of his teeth under his large, unkempt mustache projected in neon against the insides of her lids.
Back in the church, in one of the small classrooms, Martin McCaffry met with his summer camp planning committee. They brainstormed themes for next year’s camp. (“This Mortal Soil,” and “A Bug’s Afterlife,” and “Centipede Cotillion” were the front-runners.) He ate chicken salad with the group and wrote out a to-do list, which included calling to recruit potential volunteers. Later he would go home and reheat the soup he’d made the day before and watch television news. He didn’t enjoy watching the news. He just didn’t know how to turn his television off or to a different station.