“Yes--yes indeed, a truly illustrious congregation, “ continued the hooded figure. Or at least so it would appear. Facades often deceive. Although each of you is unique,” chided The Inquisitor, “There is one thing you all have in common. I refer to role playing; the play-acting you employ every day to protect yourselves and justify your niche in society. This evening’s little entertainment for example.” He studied each face as he continued to move through the large crowd. They kept their eyes on him, mesmerized by his commanding presence and the voice that rang out with such authority in the great room. They were silent, listening intently to every word.
“For the past few hours you have been privileged to impersonate certain historic figures. There’s a reason for this You see, each of the grand personages you represent was motivated by certain forces and desires affected by id, libido, ego, psyche and what have you. Since your hostess is a master of character analysis, with a fine sense of humor, you can be sure the shoe fits.”
While he spoke a nervous rustling touched the guests as some glimpsed the purpose of the elaborate masquerade.
“Let me put it another way. Let’s just say that your soul, if there is such a thing, is in tune with the soul of the personage you represent. Soul mates so to speak.” He laughed at the dumfounded expression on some of their faces.Those who who were dressed as some of history’s more reprehensible characters discovered themselves in the uncomfortable position of being blatantly exposed to their peers and they didn’t like it. They hid their discomfort in various way. Some stood defiantly: Attila the Hun folded his heavy arms across his bare chest, while Adolph Hitler looked sheepishly around for a place to hide.
“How does it feel to stand so close to history?” The Inquisitor went on. “There’s a danger in that too. You see, there is one thing all these august personages from the past have in common. They are all Dead. Dead and Dust! and most of their ideals and philosophies are gone with them. Forget them. NOW ... this moment is the only the Present which should concern you if you wish to survive in this life threatening world.” The voice rose in power and intensity. A faint tremor of fear fluttered through the assembly and the crowd found itself wanting to back away from the imposing force.
“Many suggest even God is dead; or has deserted this pale planet “ he continued, “About all that remains of Christianity are those doctrines that fall under the catchall name of Charity!”
Some shrugged s if they didn’t quite understand the meaning of the word.
“Charity?” Here, let me define it for you.” The tall, slim figure moved to a stand on which rested a huge tome. the giant book resembled,--Webster’s Unabridged.
“Hmmm...Let’s see. According to M’lord Webster, “said the figure as he opened the heavy book. “Charity...ah, here it is. Charity” love, benevolence, affection, good will. That disposition of heart which inspires men to think favorably of their fellow man, and to do them good. In the theological sense, it includes supreme love of God and universal good will to men.” He laid the ornamental bookmark across the open pages and stepped once again toward the crowd.
“I wonder how many of you can recall the last time you performed a charitable act?--the last time you gave someone a helping hand without expecting some token in return?”
“I tell you what,” he continued. To prove my point we’ll take a poll. We’ll find out right here and now who believes in Charity, and who does not. We’ll divide you into two groups, and to avoid confusion I will give each group a name. Those who continue to have charitable thoughts for his or her fellow man we’ll call the Givers, and those who really don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves --well, let’s dub them the Takers.”
There was complete silence in the chamber. Many were shocked by the presumptuous request. Someone in the back giggled nervously, a few blushed. the figure before them waited quietly for them to absorb his meaning.
“Yes, I know,” The Inquisitor called out amiably. “It’s a difficult decision, so I can understand why you hesitate to disclose your true feeling. I am only calling to account those who are practical...sensible. Those who consider only themselves. Be honest now, If you believe charity is dead, step forward and gather there,” he pointed to the other side of the room.
After some minutes something began to happen to the crowd. The group started to disintegrate as the first brave souls, those who recognized the truth in what he said, moved hesitantly toward the far side of the room. One who led the way was dressed as Caesurae Borgia, AKA Roger Bracken, followed by Hitler, Then Cleopatra...and so it went.
Sharon stood close to Kirk, her hand held in his while the man in the dark robes continued to call them out.
“Yes, that’s right. We want all of you who care for no one. Those who’ve cast out the old impractical stigma of Charity and think only of themselves.
Sharon turned to look at Kirk. A long searching look. His eyes were on the departing figures. She could see he was troubled. She continued to watch him battle with his own conscience and her face showed a strange sadness as she removed her hand from his and started to back away.
“Sharon?” Kirk asked, puzzled by the movement.
“I’m sorry Kirk,” she replied. Turning her back on him she moved with dignity and purpose toward the group of the Takers on the far side.
“Sharon?” Kirk called out again, taking several steps after her.” What’s the matter?”
She didn't look at him until she reached the other group, and then no longer acknowledged his presence. A cold chill of fear ran though him as he gazed across the space separating them.
Finally movement between the two groups halted. Their tall host spoke again.
“Is that everyone? Come now, be honest. Are those who remain absolutely certain you still feel some compassion for your fellow man?”
A few who had been wavering, or perhaps wanted to be on the winning side, quickly joined the majority. the Takers groups was certainly larger. The Givers,a group of about fifty, remained behind with Senator and Mrs. Shipley, Kirk, Jim Paulson, Sally Merrywhether, the Jacksons and and more than fifty others.
The robed figure turned to face the larger group and indicating the Givers, said,
“Behold, the real remnants of the impractical past. These are the ones holding all of you back from a life of hope and prosperity. I give you, the Givers.”
Someone in the group designated as Takers, booed, which started of a chorus of weak giggled. Those who had been dubbed The Givers wore various expressions: Concern, defiance and even here and there, some felt the pit of his or her stomach contract in the old grip of fear.
“Charity,” continued the dark form, pointing a slim finger at the Givers. His voice took on an edge of impatient sarcasm. “In, this troubled day and age Charity is a dangerous heresy.
“And now I need your full attention. This is important!” The Inquisitor waited until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. before he continued,
“My primary reason for being here is to remind you, despite the beauty of the rich green oasis we’ve prepared for you this evening, outside the verdant woods the real world awaits. Tomorrow you go back to a life which threatens starvation and death. No escape--No return to the world as it was. A world with no room for impractical ideals Now, You must think only of yourselves. Survival is the key word. Survival of the fittest. To achieve that, you must consider becoming one of us.
Kirk, who had been listening intently, wondered--One of YOU? Who are you anyway?
Just then, a small bell rang and other robed figures began to enter the room. A man clad in a black habit took his place at the small table and began to sharpen the quill pens. About thirty figures entered and took the places before the rows of chairs. Some wore symbols of high office, others of lesser degrees.
The Inquisitor stepped to the dais and seated himself with great dignity in the ornate leather chair. Now, when he spoke, he was very bu
sinesslike.
“We’ve been aware of this Impending crisis for centuries and are the only ones preconditioned to exist in this desperate world. We have redesigned ourselves to survive. How you may become one of us will be shown to you later. I truly regret that, In the meantime those who are unsuitable must be eliminated. There is no other way. The next test may be difficult, but is designed to convince those of you Givers, to join us or perish
“Last chance...do you all still stand for Charity? Do you still refuse to deny the heresy?”
Finally the elegant gentleman dressed as Cesare Borgia stepped forward.
They do not deny the heresy, my lord!” and there was a sneer on his thin mouth.
“Then they are condemned by their silence,” smirked the Inquisitor.
The Givers standing behind Kirk tried to press forward, but it was too late
“Then charity has lost.” announced the Inquisitor.
Turning to the clergy seated beneath him he demanded. “Brethren, What is your decision?”
Each member of the tribunal raised his right hand and in a unanimous gesture turned thumbs down.’
Shipley swayed unsteadily on his feet. Kirk, who had been watching his friend with deep concern, hurried forward and caught the old man as he began to topple. the young physicist lowered him gently to a nearby stool and leaned the white had against his side. Then he turned in the direction of the Inquisitor. His deep blue eyes blazed with fury at the inequities of the strange trial.
SEVEN
The Alternative Page 5