by David Staves
He was a bleary lump, an island of sorrow in a sublime sea.
The technology was stunning. He corrected himself, it wasn’t just technology, spiritual forces were at work. This was a mystical age of fantastical beasts and authentic magic. He turned onto a more secluded path. He saw marvelous things as he walked.
A tree’s somnolent visage regarded the monk from under a moss-covered brow. Its glistening eyes pierced him with wise examination. Father Faust’s doleful spirit fell further when the tree’s expression showed contempt for the weary traveler.
I am a failure. I am a lost and broken being, Faust thought, after experiencing the tree’s dismissal.
His distress waned under an unceasing onslaught of spectacle! A shimmering unicorn trotted by, a winged sphinx with the face of a child examined the sky, a dragon shimmering with multi-colored scales flexed translucent wings, a cherub fluttered by cooing with the lark’s song. There was no fear, only intoxicated elation!
The angels were the most impactful sight for Father Faust. Enormous scale added to their monumental beauty! Smooth, graceful footfalls navigated the crowd. Gentle power was quietly expressed by heaven’s guardians. Armed with gigantic swords and staffs, they sang in a tongue he didn’t recognize. They lifted their voices in splendid, unified adoration: GLORY TO THE HIGHEST!
The people walked along happily, seemingly unimpressed by the sights.
“It is just amazing, isn’t it?” a voice he recognized asked from behind him, a turquoise pond sparkled at his feet.
The man’s name was Simon. He was an Oracle, a practitioner of metaphysics. Wrinkled features looked up at him. A white beard hid his chin and cheekbones.
“Greetings, Simon,” said Father Faust’s thin, nasally voice.
How long had he been watching him? It was impossible to say. Father Faust was so enthralled by the sights and sounds that he could have been watched the whole time and not been the wiser.
Simon followed the Father’s gaze. “Yep, it’s pretty amazing. But damn, what I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger, fries, and a soda!” a longing expression lit his eyes, “So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”
Neck of the woods? Father Faust wasn’t impressed. Simon’s crassness was well known among archivists. Surely Simon knew exactly what brought him here. He said nothing, looking at Simon with an exasperated spirit.
“Okay. I guess I’ve been at this too long. My apologies, Mr. Faust, I mean Father Faust.” his voice was low and gruff. He reminded the monk of an ancient animation he’d seen in the archive depicting bumbling dwarves.
Faust looked at Simon much as the tree had observed him. He judged Simon: Amateur. Unprofessional. Inept. The situation required decorum and dignity. This is typical of an Experimentalist, he thought. At his hour of most dire need, he was misplaced, confronted with bitterly opposite pairing.
“Have you anything for me?” the old monk asked.
“Do you know where they are going to strike?”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring me there,” Simon said.
Simon looked at Father Faust’s arrogant expression. He waited a few seconds. The silence was turning awkward when Simon piped up, “Look, dude, you’re going to have to get the stick out of your bum if we’re going to work together! I might look like an old fart, but I’m not! I’m younger than you actually. Just because I don’t choose to get all faked-up like you and your snooty brothers doesn’t mean I’m not ‘with it.’ There’s nothing wrong with a few wrinkles! Haven’t you ever heard of going au natural? ‘Course not!”
“I’ve got some experience. I’ve been down in the trenches, so to speak, for ages. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen. My research has taken me to the most elevated realms. I’ve discovered new strategies, new magic to wield against our enemy. I’ve explored the antediluvian world, delved the ether, communed with the priests of the order of Nephilim, perused the libraries of Atlantis, cleared the energy gates of Chi Gung, tasted the water of Abzu. I’ve encountered people you couldn’t imagine! All while you’ve been sitting on your flat little…”
Something made Simon pause. It was something in Faust’s posture. He looked defeated, strung out. His haggard wind had been knocked out of him. Simon hadn’t seen anyone look that bad since…
“Oh, no. They’ve started coming through haven’t they?” Faust nodded, “that means the slaughter has begun… Where?”
Father Faust flinched at the question. Simon was an Oracle. He should have been getting a read off of this guy from the get-go. It had been a long time since he’d been in contact with someone from his own timeline. Plus, this guy was cold, unemotional, and disagreeable.
Now, as he concentrated, he received a flood of images, most of them were gory, bloody, and horrific. Faust had barely escaped.
“I’m sorry, Father. Forgive my insensitivity. I didn’t know.”
Simon felt like the biggest loser ever.
He was a real jerk to someone who was suffering badly.
The people of the colonies hadn’t known war or death for centuries. This kind of loss was unthinkable.
No words could make up for his misstep.
The old archivist relayed the coordinates to Simon.
They were consumed by the temporal energies that would take them home.
They departed the gardens of the ancient world knowing the truth, despite its beauty and wonder it would fall. Its judgement day was approaching. Darkness festered in the shadows, plotting, growing, and tending its seed.
Faust was awed and saddened.
How did we lose? He asked himself. His heart answered honestly. He didn’t want to know the truth. I’ll leave that contemplation to The Oracles, he thought. He pulled his hood around his face, despite the humidity, despite his discomfort. He was an archivist. His place was to gather and hide the arcane. Some secrets are best left alone.
How doomed are we? Is it too late for redemption? Faust pondered the questions as they materializing on an elegant space station in the opulent future.
Simon continued to read the monk. He sensed sorrow, grief, hatred, and a hunger for revenge. A shiver climbed his spine. The monk was bent on murder.
David Staves Jr. was born in West Virginia and moved to the southwest at the age of four. He currently lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. David knew he wanted to be an artist from the age of two. He discovered a love for writing in high school when his dream of becoming an author took root. He earned a bachelor’s degree in art and a minor in French from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. After attending UNLV, David joined the workforce at Reno Air which was bought out by American Airlines. David loves to travel. He is married to his soul-mate, Kristin, who he met at American Airlines. They have two children. He went on to earn two masters degrees in the field of education. He is currently a teacher in Las Vegas. 2019 marks his fifteenth year as an educator. He is inspired by his family and his students every day!