Apostasy Rising

by J A Bouma

  “And which one is that?”

  “The Book of Revelation, Alex.”

  Alexander and Father Jim turned to Sasha in unison, faces slack with surprise at his contribution.

  The man scoffed. “What? I had proper Sunday School education. I even paid attention from time to time.”

  Alexander smiled. “Right. John’s revelation from the Lord about the apocalypse, the end of the world.”

  “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that, my boy,” Father Jim said. “This is not some left behind, cinematic, pop-fiction sensation. This was much less about a specific timeline of the end of the world as we know it and much more about calling the present Church to task for her adultery and whoring.”

  “Father!” Alexander exclaimed. Sasha also blushed at Father Jim’s word choice.

  “What? A cardinal can’t say whore without their listener’s getting their knickers in a twist?”

  “Well, what do you mean by...by whoring, as you say?” Sasha wondered.

  “You have to remember that when the book was written, it was during the reign of the mighty Roman Empire. There were ongoing threats that Christians would be brought before Roman officials and asked to show their loyalty to the Roman gods and the emperor himself. Emperor worship was just as strongly encouraged as worship of the Roman deities. So there was a great temptation for the early Church to recant their beliefs, a great temptation to deny their allegiance to Lord Christ and instead bow before Lord Caesar. They were also hugely tempted by the pagan idols that littered the land, not to mention tempted by the pagan hedonistic practices of those deities—now those would make you blush, Sasha my boy.”

  “Sounds like it could have been written to Solterra Christians facing the same temptations in the Republic,” Alexander added.

  Father Jim nodded. “Indeed, it could have been.”

  “So if John’s book wasn’t about the end of the world,” Sasha said, “what was it about?”

  “Jolting those Roman Christians back into the reality of their faith and the seriousness of their sin by telling them they couldn’t be loyal to both Lord Christ and Lord Caesar. There were false teachers running all around telling them they could align themselves with the pagan cults and still be considered good, faithful Christians—”

  “Just like Apollos Nicolai,” Alexander interrupted.

  Father Jim nodded. “Just like Nicolai and Weiss, yes. Ichthus’s life in the Roman world, especially in Asia Minor, was in serious trouble. Some of them were about to lose their identity entirely as Christian entities. Others were in poor spiritual health. And a small, very small, part of the Church was faithfully maintaining its witness to Christ. Therefore, John’s purpose was not to detail an impending apocalypse. He wrote to encourage those churches to not compromise with idolatry and pagan religions. He wrote to jolt those who were compromising out of their rising spiritual complacency and rising apostasy. All so that they would recognize the spiritual danger they were in and repent and become bold witnesses again within the Empire to the risen Christ as Lord.

  “All of this talk about judgement was primarily addressed to those within the Church, lads. Yes, there is some warning to the pagans persecuting them, and there are some words about that persecution, too. But the main message isn’t to encourage them to believe or warn them about the flaming fires of hell and judgment. The primary reason and focus of John’s book is to exhort Ichthus to bear witness to Christ in the midst of a compromising, idolatrous, wandering Church and a pagan, persecuting world.”

  “Just like today,” Alexander said.

  “Exactly! And that’s what I need for you to retrieve.”

  “But we already have the book. What’s more to retrieve?”

  “Why, the living memory, still embedded in the fourth dimension! John’s very own living, breathing words about the condition of the Church in the 1st century. What better way to encourage Ichthus in the 22nd century than to offer a firsthand exhortation from the first century—and from the last of the apostles, no less?”

  “Sounds heretical, Padre,” Sasha said as he continued working on Alexander’s belt. “Just saying.”

  “It is not at all heresy. I’m not seeking to add to or take away from the Holy Scriptures in any way, shape, or form! I’m merely interested in having a tangible, experiential record of the memory of John’s vision to share with the struggling, persecuted, and yes whoring Church of the 22nd century!”

  “So, what, you want me to interview him or something?” Alexander asked.

  “Ask him some questions. Get into his head. Experience the emotion that John was feeling and experiencing and agonizing over the straying, persecuted—”

  “Whoring,” Sasha added.

  “Yes, whoring Church when he wrote his letter to struggling Christian brothers and sisters.”

  “But won’t he think it weird that some random fellow has showed up on his island? Isn’t he supposed to be marooned there? Exiled by the Emperor as some sort of prisoner of the Empire? I’m just supposed to show up and say, ‘Howdy, partner’?”

  Father Jim considered that twist to the plan. “That does sound a bit dodgy, doesn’t it? There should have been a Roman outpost or something on the island. Maybe you can pose as a centurion come to check on him at his cave or wherever he dwelt while serving his imperial sentence. Or perhaps a newly deposited exiled Christian from some other part of the Empire. Yes, that would do nicely!”

  Alexander looked at Sasha for confirmation. The scientist shrugged. “I mean, that sounds like a possibility. But why you be looking at me? I’m just the scientist. I just get you there and back. Everything else is up to you.”

  “Great. Thanks, friend. But if the history is wrong, won’t I mess up the time-space continuum or something?”

  “First of all, it’s the space-time continuum. And second, it doesn’t work like that. That’s Hollywood mumbo-jumbo. But you should be dressed for the part, because you don’t want to be causing Saint John to die of a heart attack!”

  Alexander looked at what he was wearing. His garments were similar to what Alkebulana men had been wearing for thousands of years. He figured it would be close enough. “I think this should do.”

  Father Jim clasped his hands together. “Good! Then we need to get you off to Patmos.” He turned to Sasha and said, “Can you work this thing remotely? Is this where you’ll control his travel through the space-time continuum or whatever it is while he’s on Patmos?”

  “Yes, I will be here and you both can be there. The DiviNet blanketing the Republic will act as a conduit for our connection. This is so exciting! I can’t wait to see what might be happening to you.”

  Sasha stopped himself and cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m excited to see how this works on a human subject. Oh, you know what I mean! I’m a scientist, so sue me.”

  “Just as long as my atoms don’t get all rearranged, I’ll be happy,” Alexander said. “So how do we work this thing?”

  Sasha unclipped the time travel device and handed Alexander the belt. Then he reached for the small cap-like device and handed it to him as well. Alexander took the items and looked them over, especially the cap.

  He scrunched up his face as he turned over the smooth black oval in his hand. “You’re telling me this thing is what will retrieve my experience back in time?”

  “Da. It acts as a sort of net that gathers the sound and sight information from your brainwaves and then sends them to a memory unit on board. Sort of like old-school Google Glass headset, but it uses your brainwaves to record the information and then a powerful AI algorithm to translate into images and sound.”

  Alexander eyed the device with skepticism, continuing to flip it over in his hand, touching the sensors on the underside. “Did you make this?”

  “I had help from a friend, a neurobiophysicist from down the hall. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Sasha smiled. He continued, “So you wear this, and it records what you see and hear. And then if you come ba
ck…I mean, when you come back, because you will be coming back friend—then we upload the data and figure out what we are going to be doing with it next.”

  Father Jim stepped over to Sasha and grasped his shoulders, commanding his attention. “Sasha my boy, I hope you know how delicate this is. I know you are a scientist and I know you are in experimentation mode right now even as we are in ecclesial retrieval mode. But I cannot stress this enough: You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. A word, Sasha. For Alex’s sake; for his safety. For the Church’s sake and her safety. Already there are forces at work to dismantle and destroy Ichthus. We saw those on the broadcaster. If they found out about this…expedition, this capability of ours thanks to you...” Father Jim let his thoughts fade, pausing and staring past Sasha with worry. He took a nervous breath, then said, “The reaction would be swift and catastrophic. For us. For you. Dr. Pavlovich, do you understand what I’m asking from you?”

  Sasha looked past Father Jim to Alexander, his vision falling on the belt that he grasped. A look of apprehension washed over his face before he returned to Father Jim. “Silence. That’s what you’re asking from me. About my work, my discoveries.”

  “Just about the belt and whatever happens next. Obviously, the world is anxious to hear more of the fruits of your time travel theories. So tell away. Just leave mention of the device well enough alone. And do not breathe a word about Alex or me or Ichthus.”

  Sasha closed his eyes and took a breath, then nodded, stoic yet compliant. “I understand. I will keep quiet.”

  Father Jim smiled and embraced his second favorite student. “Thank you for helping us. Thank you for helping the Church.”

  Sasha felt a wetness on his face as Father Jim continued the embrace, his body shaking slightly from silent sobs of gratitude. He smiled and nodded to Alexander across the man’s shoulder; Alexander smiled back and mouthed his own thanks.

  When Father Jim pulled away, he wiped his face on his garments. “Sorry about that, my boy.” He saw that Sasha’s own eyes were moist as well.

  “Let’s be stopping this nonsense,” Sasha said as he wiped his own eyes. “You need to get going. Let me show you how this works.”

  He grabbed the cap from Alex and placed it on his head, tentacles from underneath stretched outward to hold itself firmly to his skull. “See, it knows when you place it on your head and will grab on, so you don’t have to worry about it coming loose. The button at the top releases it.” He pressed the button, and it popped off like the jaw of an animal releasing its prey. “You should wear a hat or something, because it will be visible to Saint John. And then you’d have to be explaining a whole lot to the poor man.”

  Sasha handed the device back and took the belt. “Now, this needs to be on the outside around your waist. There is no on-off button, so you don’t have to be worrying about turning it off. The battery has a high-yield electromagnetic density that will give enough juice for a trip there and back. On the side panel is where we program the time, and the device stays on long enough to bring you to that particular moment along the space-time continuum.”

  “To the fourth dimension, the past phase, right?”

  “Da. And this button here brings you back to the present phase. You don’t have to set it because the device can’t bring you into the future, only to the current phase. I haven’t figured that part out yet, but I’m working on it. And if you hadn’t bothered me with your crazy idea, I might have discovered future travel by now.”

  Alexander grabbed Sasha’s shoulders. “Thank you, brother. Now bring me back in one piece.”

  Chapter 16

  Father Jim and Alexander said their goodbyes to Sasha and took a cab back to the Kiev magnarail station to start a very long journey to Patmos. They decided it was safe to use their real identities, which put Alexander at ease each time they entered a security queue. Two hours later, they arrived back in Byzantium, where they boarded another train bound for Aydin, a city located in the heart of the lower valley of the ancient Meander River. Before the cataclysmic global events that resulted in the rising sea levels, Aydin was fifty kilometers inland from the Aegean Sea, east of ancient Ephesus. Now, the ancient waters were at its doorstep, transforming the once-sleepy inland city into a major port and trade thoroughfare.

  After arriving, they chartered a boat to ferry them to the ancient island where John the Seer had been cast into exile by Emperor Domitian. The journey would take another hour, maybe two, depending on how cooperative the waves of the Aegean would be this time of year. Father Jim was in a rush to get the mission underway after arriving in Aydin after nearly five hours of travel. Evening was approaching, but their Republic Merca credits went a long way in coaxing the captain of a large fishing vessel to ferry them to the forbidden island.

  Under the cover of darkness, Alexander and Father Jim endured a rough sea brought on by an impending storm blowing across the Mediterranean night. Three times Alexander thought he would lose his lunch, but he was able to hold his stomach at bay. Father Jim wasn’t as lucky, retching over the sides of the boat and nearly toppling overboard had it not been for the helping hand of a quick-on-his-toes deckhand. By the time they arrived in port, angry sheets of rain began assaulting the clandestine Ministerium officials with menacing purpose. The two hustled up the single paved road running through the quaint town, lugging a large black case bearing the time travel device and neural sensory receptor. They aimed for a flashing orange neon sign that acted as a beacon for the only hostel that sat in the center of the ancient seaside village, praying there would be a room available for them to prepare for the final leg of their mission.

  They arrived at the sad building of stone and brick and timber, a sagging loaf of bread that had to have been centuries old, withstanding the march of history. The pair looked like soaked cats, water pooling under them from their water-logged garments. Father Jim inquired about a room while Alexander checked to make sure there wasn’t any damage to the precious devices. They were minimally damp, having been safely stowed away in a protective case. He touched the objects in reverent awe, a set of relics that seemed straight out of some futuristic sci-fi novel that would enable him to accomplish his holy task of guarding and preserving his ancient faith. He offered a silent prayer to the good Lord above for strength and safety.

  “We’re in luck,” Father Jim said under his breath as he approached Alexander. “A few rooms left, thank the Lord. They put us up top and near the back. Let’s get you to bed. You’ve got a big day ahead of you, and I’m guessing you’ll need your strength in more ways than one.”

  The two wandered upstairs, every muscle bleating from the events of the past twenty-four hours. The storm raged against the hostel as they reached their rooms, picking up steam as it rolled over the island. Alexander hoped the roof would hold and prayed it wasn’t a foreshadow of the day ahead. He slid the key in the door handle, an anachronism leftover from the hostel’s century of origin, and twisted. The lock gave, and the two shoved inside the modest room.

  Father Jim flipped the light switch, a moan escaping at the sight. A water stain ran down the length of the wall in one corner, the fruit of the evening’s festivities coating the floor at one end. He cursed, then glanced at Alexander with an embarrassed grin. “Forgive my indiscretion. I guess we can be thankful there are two dry beds, even though they may float away in the night.”

  Alexander agreed and flopped into one of them shoved against a wall. Father Jim crawled into the other bed shoved against the other one shortly after him. He drifted off into sleep within minutes, while Alexander was left staring at the darkened ceiling as the storm continued to rage above.

  He closed his eyes and flipped to his side, chasing the sleep he desperately wanted. He could only think about the whirlwind of the past few days that had carried him from the comfortable confines of his parish home to the sleazy hostel on the clump of rocks being buffeted by Mother Nature. The initial shock of seeing Apollos on OneWorld News and the announcement of
Panligo. The anxiety-riven trip with Tara from Tripolitania to Byzantium and then off to Nicea. There was the secret gathering deep below the ancient town that bore witness to other sacred gatherings that had hammered and honed Ichthus. The unexpected turn of events when Apollos and Cardinal Weiss and others stormed into the conclave to demand a hearing. He still wondered how they had known about the location. Was there a mole inside their ranks? Then there was the journey to Kiev and the revelation of Sasha’s true discovery: a device that could possibly make people travel back in time. He rolled over onto his other side and considered that word, possibly.

  Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, this better work...

  And the final, gut-wrenching twist: Apollo’s speech before the world, essentially dissolving the Church, defecting to the new pagan world religious entity Panligo, and exalting himself as its pseudo spokesperson. He scoffed at the suggestion that Ichthus could simply cease to exist with mere words, like a corporation or community organization dissolving itself with the stroke of a pen. It was even more ridiculous that Apollos would position himself to help lead a new religious movement!

  He rolled over onto his back again. What a trip.

  But that wasn’t even the end of it. For then there was tomorrow.

  The idea was positively ridiculous if not absurd the more he thought about it. To think that humans could zap from one phase of time to another? His stomach clenched as his mind filled with the full measure of what he had committed to. And yet, for the first time in who knew how long, he didn’t instinctively reach for a wafer. A peace that surpassed all understanding flowed through him, steadying his resolve and soothing his soul.

  In the stillness of the night inside the hostel room as the world swirled and raged outside, he offered a silent pray to Lord Christ for tomorrow, for safety and for success. Alexander also thanked Jesus that he had been found worthy of this assignment—despite his fear, despite his doubt.

  Within minutes of mouthing Amen, he was asleep.