by J A Bouma
“Yes, yes, yes, that’s fascinating. But John. What about John?” Father Jim’s eyes bulged with intensity, his hands outstretched in poised anticipation.
Alexander smiled. “And John says hello.”
“What?” Father Jim exclaimed.
“Just kidding, Padre. But I did find him, and he was magnificent. I happened upon his cave just as he was finished with his vision. I heard the final stanza of the Apocalypse!”
“Mercy...” Father Jim whispered, holding a hand to his head as if he would faint. “I must confess, I’m suffering from a serious case of envy at the moment. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“I understand. And I almost forgot: Can you get this blasted recorder off from my head?”
“Oh my, yes. Here, let me…” Father Jim stood to look at the device still attached to Alexander’s skull.
A digital read-out on the display of continuous ascending numbers and brainwave monitor signals indicated the device was still recording.
“It’s still recording!” Father Jim exclaimed, clapping his hands together like a giddy schoolboy.
“Thank the Lord!” Alexander sighed. “Now can you take the blasted thing off my head?”
“Right.” Father Jim pressed a center button that retracted the tentacles back into the device. Alexander’s vision and hearing dimmed before coming back in full. He shook his head to adjust to seeing and hearing without the recording device. “Now guard this with your life,” he said, handing the device back to Alexander.
Father Jim’s mobile device chirped and vibrated, interrupting the debrief. “It’s Mother Kayo. She’s been pestering me all morning for news of your arrival. She’ll be delighted to know you’re back safe and sound!” He brought the device to life. “Hello, Sister Kimura,” Father Jim said beaming. “Yes, he’s back safe and sound! It worked, sister, it really worked! We just detached the recording device and were about to head out—”
Father Jim trailed off, cut off by Mother Kayo. His eyes widened and then narrowed. A look of confusion and then disgust swept across his face as he glanced at Alexander. “I see,” he finally said gravely.
Alexander sighed as he sat recovering on the ground. Now what happened...
“Tragic and grave indeed, sister. I’ll let him know.” Father Jim paused again to listen. “We will leave at once. Thank you for calling. Blessings, Mother.” He switched off the device and sighed, stretching his back and looking toward the morning sun.
Alexander stood. “What happened?”
Father Jim stowed his mobile back into his cassock. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m afraid it’s about Father Abasi, Alex.”
His heart dropped and mouth went dry. No! Not Josiah…
“What happened? Is he alright? Was he captured? Did he…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of harm coming to his beloved friend was too much to contemplate after a year of death.
“It’s worse than that, my boy. The Ministerium has just received an encrypted transmission given by Father Josiah from some of our operatives working to track the movements and developments of our schismatic brothers and sisters.”
Alexander stepped back, brow furrowed in disbelief. “No…”
“I’m afraid so. He hasn’t publicly renounced Ichthus, but apparently the reason why he never made it to the conclave in Nicea was because he rendezvoused with Apollos and Cardinal Weiss in Byzantium afterwards. He is rallying support from his diocese in central Alkebulana and his other contacts around the world. I don’t have to tell you that this is grave, grave news, Alexander. I fear that his support for the schism will drive many to join Panligo.”
Alexander sat down again, trying to process his friend’s and ministry colleague’s radical break from the faith. “But why, Padre?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand it, myself. Would never have thought…not Father Abasi. The Fidelium is urging us to make haste to bring the fruits of your mission back to Sasha as soon as possible before any news breaks of Josiah’s apostasy. I hope your conversation with brother John was a fruitful one. Because the Church is going to need it now more than ever. The Ministerium has already alerted Sasha to be ready for us, which means we better get moving back to Kiev.”
The two made their way to the docks to catch the morning boarding call from Patmos back to Aydin. Tickets for the high-speed magnarail were waiting for them when they arrived on land to make the journey back to Kiev. Blessedly, the train from Aydin to Byzantium was relatively empty, affording them a degree of anonymity for the first leg of their journey. The ride from Byzantium to Kiev, however, was a different story.
It was early afternoon by the time they transferred trains to head toward Ukrainski. The Monday afternoon rail traffic was positively suffocating. Alexander wanted nothing more than to be left alone to sleep off the intense weariness he felt on the other side of his other travels and to process the developments with his friend. He tried to sleep on the boat ride and the first magnarail ride, but it was no use. The two seats Father Jim found for them near the very back would do nothing to alleviate his aching body and mind.
As the train exited the ancient city, Alexander considered Father Abasi’s move. How could something like this have happened? The man had been so grounded and rooted in the Christian faith, a faithful priest of his parish for half a decade. Why would he jettison it all for this new world religious association? He felt his confidence in his own work and commitment to the Christian faith begin to thin at the turn of events.
A memory surfaced from a few days after his father had died. Josiah had come up from Kinshasa to attend the funeral and sit with Alexander in his grief, staying with him in his guest quarters at his parish home. He was having a terrible time coming to terms with a God who could allow his servant to die in such a way. Father Abasi had been a true Barnabas, offering great comfort and assuring Alexander that God really could be trusted, despite his father’s death—even at his father’s own hand. God was still faithful, Josiah was sure of it.
If someone like that could give it all away, perhaps there was something to this new Panligo group.
But then his mind jolted back to what he had just experienced at Patmos: John the Apostle in the flesh and his warnings for the Church of false teachers as much as false imprisonment—and even death.
No way…I will never forsake you Jesus!
A new resolve steadied Alexander as the magnarail trundled along. The very conversation he’d had just that night with John at Patmos reminded him of the necessity of believing in the once-for-all faith entrusted to God’s holy people and handed down through the ages. A faith his people needed to remember and hold on to, a faith he needed to remember and to hold tight.
As the train continued speeding through Vostokana, he hoped that what he had retrieved would be enough. But he feared it would not. Would more trips be needed? Would he be asked to return? Surely his experience with the last apostle would do something to confront the false teachers who were beginning to wreak havoc within the Church. But he wondered…
The deception of Father Abasi was clear proof of how swift and far the Church’s enemies were advancing. But what would it take to stop them? How much of the past did the future Church need to retrieve in order to stem the tide of the emerging false teaching and rising apostasy that Father Abasi embraced? And who would step up to continue the retrieval? He expected he would be called on again, but Alexander was resistant to get involved. He had already lost so much with his father, his mother before him—and now his friend. How much more was he willing to sacrifice for the Church? She had already demanded so much. And continued trips through time seemed like a burden none should bear, especially him.
His mind sank into despair as he continued thinking about Ichthus’s plight, and his connection to it. Combined with his already weary body Alexander began to drift off into sleep. He let himself, knowing that in a few short hours he would arrive in Kiev to continue his quest.
A few hours later,
the train jolted to a stop in Kiev International Station. Father Jim woke slumbering Alexander and the two of them headed back into the city to meet Sasha at his office. As they once again made their way across the Dnieper River in a creaky, rumbling cab, Alexander played with the handle of the case that held the device that had powered his ancient experience. Then he opened it to check on the device that held that experience. It was still safe, stowed away next to the time travel belt. He closed the case and looked over at Father Jim as he stared out over the flowing river, hoping that the device had captured his experience without a hitch and that it would do for the Church what Father Jim had hoped it would do.
Staring out at the river, he was jolted from his gaze. He hadn’t touched base with his assistant Zakaria since he had left. He would be beside himself with worry. “Padre, do you think I could call Zakaria and let him know I’m still safe? I won’t give any details.”
Father Jim nodded and handed him his mobile device as he continued his absentminded gazing.
The traffic stopped midway across the bridge as Alexander waited for Zakaria to answer. A fender bender seemed to have brought the rush-hour traffic to a crawl.
“Hello?”
“Brother Zakaria!”
“Father Zarruq! Oh, my am I glad to hear from you. How are you? Where are you? I’ve been worried sick wondering what had happened to you.”
“I know, dear friend. I got tied up with some…Ministerium business.” Alexander glanced over at Father Jim who smiled and nodded. “But I should be home shortly, we’re almost through.”
“Better come home as soon as you can, Father…err, Alexander.”
There was a hint of desperation and worry in his voice, more than the understandable amount given Alexander’s mysterious absence.
“Why? Has something happened?” The worry in his voice drew Father Jim’s gaze. Alexander shook his head in confusion.
“Not yet, but I fear it’s coming. One of our elders brought rumor this morning of an impending attack in our region by forces responsible for the home church bombings.”
Alexander’s eyes widened at the news, his pulse matched his surprise and concern. The war was coming home, and he was a thousand miles away. He felt helpless, like a seaside town resting in the path of an oncoming tsunami.
“Trouble on the home front, Alex?” Father Jim whispered. “Don’t keep me in the dark.”
He nodded. “Rumors of more bombings.”
“Good Lord...”
He returned to his assistant holding on the other end. “Be careful, Zakaria. Keep me informed of any developments, you hear?”
“Yes, Father. I will. You as well.”
As Alexander finished his conversation, the cab lurched to a stop in front of the University of Kiev. Father Jim paid the cabbie, and the two hopped out and made their way to the third floor to find their Ukrainski friend.
They entered his office without knocking, finding it in complete disarray. Papers were everywhere. Several books were toppled from their shelves, some lying face up where Sasha had presumably been doing research. Several empty tumblers sat on tables, the baby grand piano, and the mantle of the fireplace. Leftover ice had melted at the bottom where pure Ukrainski vodka had once been.
A crash from inside Sasha’s private laboratory drew their attention to behind the minibar that was propped open.
They took hesitant steps forward, looking at one another for direction.
Another crash sounded forth, jolting both Alexander and Father Jim into action and sending them racing for their friend.
Chapter 21
“Sasha, my boy, we’re here,” Father Jim shouted. “Is everything alright?”
A weary-looking Sasha emerged from his scientific cave. His face quickly gave way to euphoria at the sight of his comrades.
“Alexander, bratishka!” Sasha said, beaming as he strode over to his friend with outstretched arms, squeezing him when he reached his prey.
“Careful, friend. My atoms are brittle from the journey.”
“I bet they are! But you did it. You really went back to AD 95, no?”
Alexander grinned and nodded. “I did. And I lived to tell about it!”
“Well, tell me about it, then! I’ve been dying to hear the details for the past day.” Sasha ushered them to the couches at the center of the study.
Alexander first explained the physical effects of the transport process, the sensations and sights and scents. Sasha was riveted, jotting down copious notes, interrupting him to clarify the details.
“The strangest part was how quick it seemed to go, but then when I arrived it was dead of evening, like it had taken several hours instead of several seconds.”
“Fascinating!” Sasha exclaimed. “So it actually took time to go back in time. That makes sense, because the electromagnetic field emanating from the belt is designed to thrust you into a transluminescent state so that you are not merely traveling at the speed of light but transcending it. But then you have the rotation of the Earth and its orbit around the sun and then the wormhole slowing time and—”
“As enlightening and entertaining as this all is,” Father Jim interrupted in annoyance, “we’ve got some other business to attend to. The real purpose behind this expedition. Alex, the neural sensory recording device, please.”
“My gosh, I forgot all about that thing!” Sasha said, setting down his notes. “Here, give it over.”
Alexander carefully removed the device from the case and handed it over to Sasha’s outstretched hands.
“Ah, the elixir,” he said, cradling it like a rare flower. He shot up from his chair and darted back into his laboratory hidden behind the minibar. Alexander and Father Jim looked at each other and followed along. They found him attaching a cable from the device to a mainframe workstation.
“We’ll download the audio and video files, hoping the thing did its thing.”
The minutes ticked by as they waited for the upload to finish, stretching into what felt like an eternity as anticipation welled within each of the three onlookers.
“Done!” Sasha said when the device chimed. He moved over to a thin glass display to inspect the cargo. “Let’s see what we got here.”
He opened up a file that expanded to a full-screen video. At first, it was just black. Confusion and concern bubbled to the surface as Alexander and Father Jim looked on.
“Just wait for it,” Sasha reassured.
The moments ticked by as more black and blank audio continued to play.
“Perhaps I didn’t turn it on right,” Father Jim moaned. “Maybe it wasn’t secured to your head properly, Alex—”
“Shh! Just wait for it,” Sasha complained.
They waited. And then a stream of color coagulated across the screen, changing from a palette of muddy greens and browns to crisp, super-definition trees and rocks and the dry, hard ground of Patmos.
The three cheered, knowing their mission was a success.
“Shh!” Sasha hissed again as they started to hear audio.
‘How does that feel?’ was heard in the background, an experiential record of when Father Jim had placed the device on Alexander’s head.
Next was Alexander’s affirmation: ‘Alright. But I feel like there’s some sort of delay in my vision and hearing.’ Alexander smiled at Father Jim and Sasha. ‘It’s slight, but it’s funny.’
‘Probably the microchip recording your immersive experience…’ Father Jim continued.
“It worked,” Sasha said with disbelief as he turned down the speakers. “It worked!” he yelled once more, pumping his fist in the air. Father Jim and Alexander joined the cheer as Sasha returned to the screen to fast-forward to the main event.
They heard the voice of Father Jim once more: ‘Father Zarruq are you ready?’ A moment later Alexander replied in the affirmative, ‘For Christ and his Church’s sake I hope so.’ The picture tilted down as he pressed the flashing green indicator screen and then went black—the same moment Alexa
nder closed his eyes to prepare for the transport back several phases to AD 95.
The picture relayed nothing of the experience of the time travel itself that Alexander remembered. Although the picture was bright as he had experienced, there was no audio. It didn’t pick up any of the physical smells and sensations he had experienced along the way.
“Doesn’t look as exciting as when you retold your experience,” Sasha said, sounding disappointed. He fast-forwarded for several minutes, skipping the travel until it went dark and Patmos returned, though under the cover of darkness.
“By golly, it really did work, didn’t it?” Sasha whispered, mesmerized by what he was witnessing displayed on the screen. “Oh, there’s the cave!”
They could see and hear what Alexander saw and heard himself: the pulsating light, the voice dictating the closing stanza of the Book of Revelation, and then the start of the interaction between Alexander and John the Apostle.
Father Jim released a drunken giggle at the sight of John appearing in the cave entrance, disbelieving what his eyes and ears were sensing. “This is indeed science fiction! I mean, look at him, all wrinkled and old and frail.”
“The scars from the vat of oil were even more pronounced than what the device recorded,” Alexander said.
The three sat entranced for the next hour as Father Jim and Sasha relived what Alexander lived in person. Sasha cracked up at John’s jokes. Father Jim teared up as he spoke passionately about the Church and the faith Ichthus had been called to protect and pronounce. Alexander stood proud, having overcome his anxiety and retrieved this vital word for the present Church. He wondered how it might impact those Christians who were seeking to do what Father Josiah had just done: abandon the faith in favor of a false, pagan one.
He also wondered how it might encourage those Christians who were facing what those Libyan Christians faced several weeks ago, what his very own people might face in the near future: persecution and certain death for their commitment to Christ as one God, true Lord, and only Savior.