18 months later

Adapted from a brilliant comment by Chris the Cynic:

It didn't feel like a good idea, but Chloe was right. It was their best hope. Nicolae was the most powerful man on earth, imbued with power that seemed to be without any coherent bounds, and given that he was willing to oppose God himself he might be open to their mission. If anyone could oppose Jerry it would be Nicolae.

And if something was going to be done, it had to be now. Since an indeterminate number of people had been taken, naked, into Heaven Jerry had monitored what seemed like every single incomprehensible waking moment. They had been forced on rails through the surreal return to normality that had followed the worst disaster in history.

The time they had to themselves had always been in scattered stolen moments. There was never the opportunity to actually try to do anything. Jerry even micromanaged things like conversations about the logistics of a takeout dinner.

It had seemed hopeless, then there were three words that gave them all hope: Eighteen months later.

The prospect of a year and a half without Jerry looking over their shoulder gave them hope for the first time in what seemed like forever. If they were going to oppose Jerry, this universe's ruler and creator, they would need to act in this window because another one might not arise. And they would need allies.

Buck reminded himself of all of this, took a deep breath, adjusted his shirt for the thirty seventh time, and stepped into the Antichrist's office. Within a few minutes Nicolae was laughing. Loudly.

Eventually Nicolae stopped laughing and when he caught his breath he addressed Buck:
-

Buck Willams left the UN building and walked quickly to the nearest phone. He wasn't sure how much of a head start Nicolae would give him. Chloe answered, when she asked him what happened he said, "I can't tell you over the phone. Pack light and be ready to run." He was going to end the conversation there, but decided to add one thing. "Remember how you said you wanted to use a crossbow on bad guys?" She did. "Buy a crossbow."

Ray Goes to Church pt. 4

Ray drove down the street, inching along slowly. The streets were filled with debris and it was clear no one was coming to clear it out. The rows of neat suburban houses had been gutted by fire and many were still burning. He raised his collar with one hand to shelter himself from the smell.

Chloe and Vivian lay in the back covered by a tarp, along with their stores of canned food and bottled water. Neither made a sound as Ray struggled along the streets, except for Chloe who wept continuously. He had tried to comfort the two girls, tried to be the brave Alpha male who investigated crashing sounds in the night, but words were useless now. The world had gone mad and nothing was going to be the same again.

He remembered when he was a boy, terrorists destroyed the twin towers. Everyone had been shocked and scared then and maybe they made decisions that history would consider regretful, but society had remained intact. People bonded together and tried to make the best of a horrible new reality. He could remember holding his parents' hands as they went down to the blood bank to donate blood, how he and his classmates made cards for people hospitalized by the disaster. In spite of the horror, society managed to survive, but things were different now. The terrorists or God or whoever did this hadn't just succeeding in taking people; they'd ripped out the soul of the world.

Chloe continued to cry. "Will you be quiet?" Ray snapped. He was tired of her tears, tired of tears all together. He wanted his old life back with his old job piloting planes, his wife, his son, and his vivacious daughter, not this broken shell who wouldn't stop crying.

"Piss off." Vivian snarled. Immediately he regretted his words. He shouldn't have snapped at Chloe, not when he had spent most of his time in a hidey-hole crying. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't of said what I said."

"Damn right, you shouldn't of," Vivian said. He sighed. He shouldn't be surprised that her nerves were as frayed as his, but there was so much he needed to know if he was going to help Chloe, so he decided to ask the question, even though he had a sneaking suspicion of the answer. "Vivian, just how did you and Chloe get all the way from Stanford to here?"

"How do you think," Vivian said. Her sneer softened and took on a haunted cast. "How do you think two young college girls with little money and valuables got across the country? We whored ourselves. We'd take turns, me on one ride, her on the next, sleeping with whatever sleazy creeps would give us a ride. It wasn't that big a deal, mostly one or two guys here and there, but the last stop..." She took a deep breath. "I think twenty guys had her."

Ray felt the air leave his lungs. He had known the truth even before he'd asked, but still hearing it...He stepped on the brakes and gasped. The church was gone, reduced to burned rubble. Only its steel frame remained and from it, the remains of Bruce Barnes hanged.

There was little left of the pastor who had greeted him with a shotgun, just bones and pulp covered in spray paint. Ray immediately felt ashamed. Why hadn't he been here? He should have tried to help the young pastor who was so desperate to protect his flock from the marauding gangs. Bruce, who showed more courage and compassion than his boss, Vernon Billings, could ever know.

He wondered if Bruce ever had a chance to fire his shotgun at the marauders or if they got him completely by surprise. Did Loretta or any of the others make it out alive? He knew what Bruce would have done. Bruce would have held them off as long as he could in order to help his flock escape.

But as he sat there, pondering Bruce's fate, a young hoodlum stuck his face through where the driver's side window used to be. "Whaddya think you're doing here?" he said.

The kid looked to be about sixteen tops, but it was hard to tell with all the grease and spray paint on his face and the mad gleam in his eye. He started yelling and screaming like a banshee, trying to force the door open. Ray thought only of the girls in the back and reached for his gun and fired.

The kid fell to the ground, a red blossom forming on his chest. Ray felt sick. What have I done? This was just a kid, desperate and starving like everyone else, and I shot him. But he was a threat. If he knew about Chloe and Vivian...But what if he was just driven mad like everyone else? Ray could feel his undigested Dinty Moore threatening to resurface, but whatever had happened, there was nothing he could do. The kid was dead and he had to move on if he wanted to keep Vivian and Chloe alive.

Malevolent Father, Part One

Hey, first story here, looking forward to adding more. This one was my attempt to make Nicolae a bit more interesting, and to make the pervading indifference in LB a bit more sinister.

***

When he was young, the voice had been his special friend. It had told him he was destined for great things.

When he was a little older, he found out what exactly those things were. Then, he called it the Malevolence. It was a good word. He'd found it in a dictionary.

Later, of course, he gave in to the insistent demands and learned to love the voice and call it Father.

Privately, however, he still thought of its effect as 'Malevolence.' His Father's influence lay heavy upon the lands. He could feel it all around him; hadn't he seen it so clearly when the people had failed to react to the disappearance of their children?

They seemed to go along with anything he said.

Nicolae.

"Yes, Father?"

They are waiting for you, Nicolae.

"Why do so many of them just buckle under? I've tried to make them react, and I have to go so far before they snap out of it."

This is my will, Nicolae. They cannot defy me. They are mine as you are mine, and all shall be mine hereafter. Only the strongest-willed among them may even struggle.

"...What about that Buck, then? He seems immune, even to my powers."

My powers, Nicolae. Your powers are my powers. Cherish your pride, but do not forget the source of your strength. There was a wicked little insubstantial chuckle. That one is not strong-willed. He and his companions are my gift to you, Nicolae. I have not affected them save to offer them the void into which compassion drains when obsession takes its place. And they have embraced it. They are yours to corrupt and toy with, for what are the greatest without some foe to crush? Cameron Williams I have given unto you, and you will learn the joys of power by subverting them. They are fools. They believe He will protect them. A King without subjects is no King at all. They are poor fodder, but they will suffice for now, my little Prince.

Nicolae Carpathia rubbed his temples, feeling the dark joy of the words threading through his bloodstream. "Yes... they will suffice." Something almost like love gleamed in his eyes. "Thank you, my Father, for your gifts to me."

***

It was so easy. At times like this, Nicolae began to understand why his Father had been so confident. Those the Malevolence had touched obeyed without thought; those stronger but vulnerable crumbled swiftly enough before Nicolae's own abilities, their struggles adding a deeply pleasurable counterpoint to their eventual submission.

And 'Buck'? He and all of his companions were the most delightful of all. They were so easy to confound, and best of all, they would go along with him anyway. No matter what they thought of him, they would convince themselves that this was right, and in the face of their wilful self-deception he needn't do a thing but watch and smile and maybe ponder again if he could break dear Cameron just so and see him serve more intimately.

Sweet Hattie, he thought, had been marvellously eager to aid him. All she required was some modicum of respect, the validation she had never before been granted. She'd told him everything, one night, and he'd given her his Father's smile and promised on his life that everything would change for her now.

She'd given him every key he needed for the doleful band of misfits piously vowing amongst each other that they would oppose him.

It had, admittedly, taken a little time to find a way to monitor them; he had been unable to believe how small they'd kept their group. He almost wished they had proclaimed his secret far and wide and gathered some righteous army against him; the victory would have been so much sweeter.

Still, you worked with what you were given, and his Father had given him so much.

Harvest of Souls, Chapter Eight

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Friday Change Jar, Tri-State Bird Rescue & Research

Of all the heartbreaking images from the Gulf oil spill the ones that have gotten me the most are of the birds. Call it a never suppressed wish that I could fly but I love birds. Especially sea birds. Gulls squabbling among themselves, the humorous dignity of a pelican, watching sandpipers dart with lighting quickness on the shore, and cranes that move and look as living works of art.

Tri-State Bird Rescue is leading the effort to save, clean, and relocate the Gulf coast's avian wildlife. So click, look around, and see if you can spare a tuppence for the birds.



[EDIT] This was actually supposed to go on my blog, but if it's alright with the mods, I think it'd be nice to leave up for the interested.

Harvest of Souls, Chapter Seven

Say Ye Not, A Confederacy

As first light shone across the Shenandoah Mountains, Marine Two Foxtrot flew in low over a nondescript complex of low, rectangular buildings, roads, and parking lots set in a clearing surrounded by a forest of tightly-clumped deciduous trees. Richard held Beth’s hand tight with one hand, a telephone with the other.

“You got Britain, France, and China? Good, see what you can do about the other nuclear powers. Let them know I’ll be down in a few minutes. Then I’ll need a meeting with the Joint Chiefs, and a sitrep from FEMA. The leadership of the House and Senate should be in on that,” he said, then was silent as the other person spoke.

“…The ceremony can wait a bit…at least until we’ve got things in motion,” Deming said heavily. Those who called Huckabee and Deming a ‘team of rivals’ engaged in massive understatement. As hard-fought as the primaries had been, Richard never wanted to get the Presidency this way, at the expense of the man’s life, and those of his whole family. The ceremony can wait. To raise his hand and take the President’s oath would be to pronounce President Huckabee dead…and Emilie, James, Aisha, and Ricky Junior, and everyone else who was among the vanished. “Thank you. We’re setting down now.”

“Welcome to Mount Weather, Mr. Vice President,” a Marine guard said as Richard, Beth, and the Football were whisked into the elevator he was protecting. Deming gave him a nod, as that was all he had time for. Moments later, the doors whisked open on a scene of barely-controlled chaos. FEMA agents talked on phones, typed at computers, or hurried to and fro with printouts and manila folders. Knots of Senators and Representatives stood huddled in their pajamas with their families, all pointedly bereft of younger children. Some of them simply stared blankly, like poleaxed steers. Others, spotting Richard and his entourage, hurried over and started talking all at once.

“Mr. Vice President—“

“What’s happened?”

“Where are our chil…

“…alien attack?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll meet as soon as we can,” Richard said. “First I’ve got to talk to the other nuclear powers,” he said with a glance toward the Football. That silenced them.

“Godspeed, Mr. Vice President,” the chairman of the Ways and Means committee said as they parted to let him pass. A harried staffer was waiting for him.

“The teleconference is set up, Mr. Vice President,”

“You got them all?”

“Except for North Korea and Pakistan.” Deming suppressed a groan of irritation. “The North Koreans refused to talk, and we weren’t even able to get someone on the phone in Pakistan. Their ‘net servers are down too.”

“Their leadership disappeared?”

“We don’t know that, sir. Their government was precarious to begin with, and now…”

Richard exchanged a pained look with Beth. Both knew that reminders of the catastrophe, of their missing children, would not stop coming. Beth gave him a quick, fierce embrace as they reached the conference room door.

“I’ll see what I can do to help out here,” she said, then released him and turned back toward the members of Congress. Richard gave her a wan smile, then went inside. The conference room was sleek and futuristic, Japanese-style black lacquer and accents of white marble. He sat down in front of a wrap-around green screen and nodded to the technician.

“Um…sir?” the technician said, glancing at his “outfit.” Someone at the National Military Command Center had given him an Army T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Just do it, I’m not going to keep them waiting while I get on a suit and tie.” Though he’d managed to talk briefly with the Russian President over the Hotline before getting America’s missile-defense radars back online, Richard wanted to speak with the rest of the nuclear club as soon as possible. Especially the ones engaged in miniature Cold War standoffs: India and Pakistan, Israel and Iran. The joker in the deck, North Korea, apparently wasn’t interested in talking. Not with the U.S. anyway.

The other places at the table were taken by tall parabolic high-definition screens. They flickered to life, conjuring 3-D images of the other nuclear-armed world leaders. They all looked as haggard as he did, but due to placement in more fortuitous time zones, they were all dressed “properly.”

“Thank you all for being here. In case you haven’t heard already, President Huckabee is among the missing. I will be assuming Presidential duties until he can be recovered, or we discover for sure that he can’t. We all have to face the biggest national emergency in the history of our countries right now, so I don’t want to take a lot of your time--”

“My condolences for your country’s losses, Mr. Vice President,” the Russian President said. “From what we have learned so far, your country has been hardest hit among the developed nations. Under the circumstances, perhaps the United States should not be the nation coordinating our response to the crisis.”

“I’m not jockeying for position here, Dmitry Adreievich. No nation on Earth is responsible for what’s happened. The primate house behavior has got to stop. We have a common enemy now.” What if Mike was right? What if our ‘enemy’ is God? Richard thought, but he pushed it aside. First, keep people from nuking each other. Then find out if this is the Rapture or not. “If any of you knows the best way to respond to this crisis, I’ll be happy to go along. But right now—“

“We must neutralize Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal immediately!” President Patil of India said. “If militants should seize power—“

“Do you intend to continue President Huckabee’s policy on Iran’s arsenal?” the Israeli Prime minister asked. “We will not accept an Iranian Bomb!”

“We have two Bombs. You have two hundred, or more! Which you have been lying about for decades!” the Iranian President snapped.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Richard shouted. “There’s two things we’ve all got to agree to do right now. One: let’s not make things worse than they already are. No mushroom clouds blooming over anybody’s cities. No preemptive strikes. Two: I want my kids back. I want your kids back. Some little tribe of Bushmen living in the Kalahari desert? I want their kids back! All of our grand strategies, our force deployments, our weapons procurement, our alliances, our foreign policies—all of that has to be focused on our kids and grandkids now. What else is there?”

“Do you really think we can get them back?” the British Prime Minister said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re up against, but I am convinced that our only chance is cooperation. It’s going to take all we can do just to maintain a semblance of order.” Dmitry’s eyes narrowed.

“You know more than you are telling us, Richard. I see it in your eyes.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘knowing,’” Richard said with a sigh. “Yesterday, this would have been crazy talk. The Rapture. Some of you may remember my debate with President Huckabee on foreign policy, when I grilled him about his belief in the Rapture. Well…this looks an awful lot like what President Huckabee and others like him have been talking about for years.”

“You mean, God taking all of the Christians away?” Dmitry replied. “I assure you, the churches in my country do not lack for attendance.”

“And what does that have to do with the children?” the French President asked.

“Well, the belief is that God would take the children too, ones younger than about 12 or so, what they call the ‘age of accountability.’ And as for the Christians in your countries, I think the idea is that God was only coming for the Christians who believe the same things as the Rapture Ready types. I’m not endorsing this idea, for all I know it’s aliens faking a Rapture the way the Spanish Conquistadors pulled one over on the Aztecs by playing the part of Quetzalcoatl.”

“But you think it could be true?” Dmitry asked. Richard gave him a lopsided grin. Now he was in the hot seat fielding questions about the Rapture.

“I’m not going to rule it out just because I hope it’s not. But I’m not going to just jump to it as a conclusion either. Whatever this is—“ Richard was interrupted by a military attaché entering the conference room and striding briskly over to him. He leaned over to whisper in Richard’s ear. Deming paled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just been informed that North Korea has started shelling Seoul and our defenses along the Demilitarized Zone with long range artillery. We can’t afford this distraction. Whoever or whatever took our kids could be just getting started. I’m going to be putting my country’s strategic forces on alert, but I want to do it in cooperation with the rest of you. Li, Dmitry, do you think you can get the North Koreans to stop?”

“Kim Jong-Il must be doing this because he feels he needs an external conflict to stabilize his regime. He may be too desperate to back down,” Li replied.

“Then I think the best approach is going to be a unified response from all of us with military forces in the theater, and we may need to include the Japanese. If they can’t be talked down, they’ll have to be taken down, as quickly as possible. Do we have an alliance?”

“What are your intentions for the Korean peninsula afterward? Unification with the South?” Li asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Maybe political unification with some kind of joint occupation of the North like we did with Germany after World War II. This is not about expanding American hegemony. This is about standing together to defend our world and keep human civilization alive. Do we have an alliance?”

“The anti-missile systems you have deployed against us, would you agree to relocate them?” Dmitry said. Upon taking office, President Huckabee had re-instituted the Bush policy of ringing Russia with forward-deployed anti-missile systems in allied nations in Eastern Europe, Central Asia and East Asia. The weapons had increased tensions with the Russians and led them to closer ties with China and Iran.

“In principle, yes. I can’t talk specifics until we can develop some kind of planetary defense strategy. I don’t know if those systems are going to be much use against whoever took our children, but that’s their purpose now. Get your military planners working on a way to coordinate your strategic defenses with ours and I’ll do the same. Do we have an alliance?”

“What if you become convinced that it is your Protestant God who has done this?” Dmitry asked.

“The God I believe in is the one who sent His Son to Earth with a choir of angels singing ‘Peace on Earth, good will towards men.’ My Jesus is the one who gave the Sermon on the Mount, and who went to the Cross instead of summoning twelve legions of angels to lay waste to the world. I don’t know of any place in the Bible where it says God will kidnap all of our children. But if I’m wrong, and it really is God, the creator of hundreds of billions of galaxies that did this to us, then honestly, what can we do?

“All I know is…humanity is under attack by something much more powerful than we are. If we can’t…at least try to stand together, to be on the same side for once, even now…to just try and keep our whole world from falling into war and chaos…what does that say about us? What does that say about us?”

There was silence for a moment as the other leaders looked each other in the eye.

“I cannot speak for others…but with Russia you have your alliance, Mr. Vice President.”

“We have an alliance,” Li Peng said.

One by one the leaders announced their solidarity, until it came around to the newest, and apart from North Korea, the least welcome member of the nuclear club.

“I…will need to speak with the Supreme Leader…but if I can bring him an assurance of security for our nation…”

“If you’re talking about the threat of a unilateral attack by Israel, I won’t stand for that,” Richard said, casting a warning glance toward the Israeli Prime Minister. “Nor will American forces be launching any attacks against Iran as long as we and our allies are not attacked by Iran. The only ‘assurance of security’ I can offer you is to have the United States and Israel as allies rather than as enemies.” He cast another hard glance at the Israeli Prime Minister, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “And yes, that means working out a Middle East peace that no one will like but everyone can accept.

“Making this work isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to be the most difficult thing humanity has ever attempted. And we have no assurance of success, not against something that can just come down and take over a billion children…right out of our arms. Getting through this is going to require the utmost from each and every one of us…the very best that humanity is capable of, in every area of endeavor. This is when we find out who we really are, as human beings.”

Worrying Implications

In various labs, meeting rooms and offices scientists met, trying to understand the 'Event' as it had been called. Theories were offered, some found more plausible than others but there was still a great gnawing sense of unease, of fear. The unknown can be something fascinating but it can be terrifying too, especially when that unknown apparently destroyed your children, your friends and neighbors. Governments worldwide were trying to understand what happened and if it was going to happen again. Information was sent around, groups pored over data, many of them quietly both praising and scolding Carpathia.

On the one hand, he had addressed the situation and had managed to, amazingly, calm multitudes of people and get them to feel more optimistic which was honestly an impressive feat. But then he claimed that the reason this occurred was due to some kind of 'electromagnetic field' which was utter nonsense. Unfortunately it had grabbed the attention of people desperate for any kind of idea of what was happening which meant that they were going to have to fight the conventional wisdom when they got a better idea of what happened. But what made it worse...well that was announced by one flustered woman

"This is utter CRAP!" she got up, staring at all the data in disgust, pacing, taking a few deep breaths before recovering. "It's crap, as it is everything we knew went out the window with the event. Thermodynamics was violated in at least three ways, not to mention all kinds of things we thought we understood about biology being apparently disproven. The rules basically just got rewritten, we're trying to play chess using the rules for checkers." She looked around the table, some of them looked surprised at the outburst but more than a few of them nodded or gave her a look of agreement. There were webcams recording what she had said and she noticed on her laptop messages were starting to accumulate, some agreed with her, some pleaded with her to calm down, and some asked flatly what they were to do. She sighed, apparently she still had their attention so she continued,

"Right now we can't even be sure what caused this, but there are a few things we do know. Carpathias electromagnetic field explanation is holding for now but we need to come up with an actual answer. The other theories out there claim either space aliens or an angry god. The news has shown dozens, hundreds of people protesting at the Vatican and other religious sites. The US government is dealing with dozens of inquiries about Roswell and other various UFO phenomena. Right now we have a duty to figure out what happened but we don't even know where to start. We have to do something soon, we have a responsibility to find out the truth and make sure people know."

She didn't mention the last part, the elephant in the room that had been wandering around since the first few days after the Event. The elephant had gotten larger when scientists working in weapons research and other military endeavors were joining in on the project and trying to offer any help. People had thought about what occurred at Israel during the joint attack. They had managed to throw the attack back, destroy harmlessly every nuclear weapon, and even managed to somehow be able to salvage fuel from all the vehicles. People had called it a miracle but there were some who also remembered Chaim Rosenwigs formula. Israel had lately been advancing incredibly in technical development and while Israel had claimed confusion with the rest of the world few people had accepted it. They couldn't imagine that something like that could happen without a cause. The event had a similar mystery quality to it and the thought flashed, however fleeting, that they might be responsible for this. Perhaps it was an accident, perhaps it was purposeful, but whatever happened...they didn't want to say aloud what they wondered, mostly for fear that they might all frantically grab onto it or that it would reach the world before they could be sure and cause another round of riots and panics.

She sat again and started going over the papers again as theories flew hoping for progress, all the while the elephant in the room grew ever larger.

Display of Power

Posted for the authors Huitzil and Inklesspen

Nicolae, having made his way around most of the table, now approached Harper, asking him to stand. After shaking his hand, as he'd done with all the others, he said, "Mr. Harper, you shall be introduced as the ambassador of the Great States of North America, stretching from the North Pole to the Panama Canal. I welcome you to the team and confer upon you all the rights and privileges that go with your new station. May you display to me and to those in your charge the consistency and wisdom that have brought you to this position."

Buck could hardly believe his ears. Just like that, Nicolae had abolished the United States, the same as he'd done for Ireland, Ghana, South Korea, New Zealand, Columbia, and even his home nation of Romania. What's more, Harper seemed to be the only one of these new "ambassadors" who'd even been a head of state!

Carpathia moved on to Buck, but this time he seemed to hesitate. Without waiting to be asked, Buck stood to his feed, holding his notebook and pen awkwardly at his side. The smile on his face felt transparently false as he shook hands with the man. "Mr. Williams, my friend," said Carpathia, "I thank you for coming here today, and I hope you'll fulfill your journalistic responsibilities here as well as you have in the past. This is a truly momentous occasion." As everyone applauded, Buck didn't know what to do or how to respond. He'd come here wanting to find out what Carpathia was doing, for his Global Weekly article, but now that seemed to be exactly what Carpathia wanted of him. What did God want? He realized he didn't have any idea. Still confused, he sank into his chair.

Thankfully, Nicolae had moved on. He gave a perfunctory thank-you to Stonegal for all the help et cetera et cetera and made his way back to where he'd started, near the door. He turned to the security guard posted there. "Mr. Otterness, would you please hand me your sidearm?" The guard didn't seem to find anything unusual in his request, but simply unsnapped his holster and handed the gun over.

Nicolae raised the .38 and cocked it. "Mr. Stonegal, I will not be needing your help any more." He fired the gun into the back of Stonegal's head. For a moment after the blast, there was a stunned silence, everyone in the room trying to comprehend what they had just seen. Then the screaming began; not just Hattie, but most of the people in the room. Another shot rang out, and Todd-Cothran, the first of the two men to have been named ambassador of Britain, fell to the floor. "I will have silence," the man with the gun said, not loudly. The screaming stopped. Buck hadn't even been able to hear him over the noise, but he knew just what Nicolae had said, as apparently had everyone else.

"I have made you rulers of the ten federations of Earth, but you will remember that I am in control here," he said. "This is my display of power. You may go outside and tell anyone you want what you just saw. I will not try to stop you. Shout it from the rooftops, if you like. You just saw the Secretary-General of the United Nations murder a man in cold blood for no reason, and there is nothing you can do about it. This world is mine."

Fatherly advice

How Rayford might have handled the Chloe-Buck thing if he was a human being.

"Hi Rayford," Buck Williams said. "May I speak to Chloe?"

"Yes, just-" He broke off: Chloe was frantically shaking her head and gesturing to put the phone down. "No, Buck. I don't think she wants to talk to you right now."

"Why not?" His tone was all outraged innocence, with just a hint of brattish whining. "Look, Rayford, I want to sort this out with her. But she won't even tell me what the matter is - she just drops these little hints and expects me just to intuit what she means. How am I supposed to work it out if she won't even speak to me?"

Rayford sighed. He knew young people had different moral codes to their elders, but even the brashest teenager would have been able to work out why Chloe was angry with Buck. There was no way a seasoned journalist could be so oblivious. "I don't think it's all that hard to work out."

"You mean you know? What has she told you?" The eagerness in his voice almost made Rayford doubt his previous assessment. It didn't sound feigned: maybe Buck really was desperate to know what he'd done wrong.

But Rayford wasn't about to explain it to him. The conversation would be far more messy than he had the stomach for, especially with Chloe still within earshot. "No, I'm not going to get involved. You respect Chloe, and leave her alone unless she decides she wants to speak to you. And just ... just grow up." He put the phone down before Buck could protest.

Chloe took a tentative step towards him. She looked exhausted, but also grateful. "Thanks for dealing with him."

Rayford shook his head. "I bought you some time, that's all. Eventually, you're going to need to deal with him yourself."

"I don't ever want to see him again."

"I know, but that's going to be hard, isn't it? Are you going to stop going to New Hope? Force him to stop going?"

Her composure broke. She sat down on the bottom step and let the tears start falling again. Rayford sat beside her, stroking her shoulder and feeling utterly useless.

"What would you do, Dad? If you were me?"

For the millionth time, Rayford wished Irene was there. She would have had the perfect advice for a time like this: something that would make Chloe feel better and help her find the best way forwards on her own. He'd never realised how much she did to keep the family going until she was no longer there to do it.

"I don't know, honey. But maybe ... you need to tell him how you feel, in words even he can't misunderstand. If he's got any decency at all, he'll have to..."

"That's it, isn't it? What can he do now? I'm sure he didn't mean to lead me on like this, but now the damage is done."

"It's not up to you to bear the worst of the damage, though," Rayford said firmly. "None of this is your fault. He needs to start putting things right. And ... well, from what he said just now, I don't think he's capable of doing that without you spelling it out for him."

L.I.P.R.E.

L.I.P.R.E
~c2t2

Shira was watching crops grow.

It sounded like some kind of Zen exercise in patience, but she really was watching her plants grow. The world had gotten more than a little surreal Post-Formula in the newly expanded Israel.

Today, her morning had started like any other...

Shira groaned and covered her head with her pillow when the siren in the center of town began to blare at 4:00 AM. Their neighborhood was assigned to their Quarter's corn sector today, one of the furthest from town. At least corn was better than rice. ANYTHING was better than rice. (Mama argued potatoes were worse, but Shira and here friends unanimously hated rice the most.)

As she stumbled out of her room and pulled on her clothing (no point in taking a shower yet) Mama, huge heavy bags under her eyes, had breakfast nearly finished. They got little enough sleep the way it was, Mama was killing herself trying to keep the rest of the family going. Father wasn't required to do Crop duty, since he had been drafted into Transport, and was stuck on a ship for the next month until he rotated back to being a Driver. Shira wondered if he was happy to get away, Mama had gotten so pale Post-Formula...

At least she was holding up so far. Yosef's mother had recently been hospitalized, but thankfully the paperwork went through for her before she succumbed to exhaustion, unlike poor Mrs. Cohen. Maya hadn't been the same since it had happened to her mother.

Shira staggered outside just as the Drivers pulled up and the townspeople piled into the trucks like so many sardines. Most of them dropped back off to sleep. Mama and David - Shira's kid brother - curled up in a space meant for one person, snoring within seconds.

Over an hour later the trucks finally stopped, and Shira jerked upright from where she'd been dozing. As everyone piled out Shira was glad to see that the seed truck had already arrived. She would have to work fast, she and Mama both had to plant twice the assigned amount. Many of the other townspeople did as well. They were a poor rural town, and couldn't afford to pay anyone more desperate than they were to do their 'civic duty' for them. The extra money from their patrons helped, though, even if it meant twice the work. That was why David had come. He was below the Age of Assignment, but had come to help Shira and Mama so they could make it to their real jobs on time.

***

After the trucks had dropped everybody back at the Drivers' stop, Shira walked home and took a quick shower before dressing and going to work. Eight hours later it was late afternoon and shira found herself nodding off at her job as a barista in the unusually quiet shop. The coffeeshops were one of the few establishments whose business had actually boomed among the lower classes Post-Formula. Business from the upper castes remained about the same, of course, not that there were many in their little town.

The moment the sun began to set Shira closed up shop, along with nearly every other business in nown, and trudged to the Drivers' stop. In less than ten minutes the Drivers arrived and the able-bodied in their town once again piled into the extremely uncomfortable trucks, and then fell asleep anyway.

David had been left home with his schoolwork. Harvest every evening went much faster than planting in the morning, at least when they were working in the corn sector. Shira, along with pretty much every other non-rich person in Israel, prayed that next week their assignment would be some kind of fruit, where the groves were already planted and the trees mature, so they only needed to pick the ripe fruit every day after sunset.

The trucks arrived alongside a few massive trailers that would haul away the day's crop. Sunset was still twenty minutes away, so the townsfolk got a short reprieve and stretched out for another nap. Shira sat down and watched the crops grow.

They were exhausted. Theywere virtually enslaved by Israel. But maybe they were lucky.

Their country paid its people barely a pittance for their work on the former-desert farms and on transport, and Israel's citizens had become cheaper than machines. This made vegetables, grains, fruit, and nuts obscenely cheap to export, so Israel became equally obscenely rich, and had bankrupted virtually every farmer in every other country in the world.

If a few people died of exhaustion before their medical/disability paperwork went through... well, that was just collateral.

A Light in the Darkness

Elior walked across the tarmac of New Babylon's airport, wherever he looked there was someone writhing in agony. The screams of the victims blended together into a sort of hellish white noise. He couldn't stop to help them, not yet. Like all angels, Elior was a messenger. He was here to deliver a message.

He made note of the position of every person. He might not have time to save them all, but a little reconnaissance beforehand could help him to save more of them. God hadn't actually told him to save them. He'd said nothing of the sort. But God hadn't told him not to save them either. That left the decision on what to do in Elior's hands and Elior already had his answer.

To better understand the situation Elior dropped his supernatural defenses and experienced what a mortal would. He cried out and raised his defenses. The pain had defied description. Bad enough that he hadn't even noticed falling to the tarmac. He picked himself up and continued on his way.

His goal came into view. A man walked away from her, that was odd. It was clear the man could see, but who else would be able to see in this place? Elior knew it didn't matter, if the man were important God would have mentioned him. Still, it made him curious.

Elior pushed it out of his mind, and approached the woman. He knelt beside her, "Emma, God sent me to tell you that he has heard your prayer." He placed his hands on her. She stopped writhing. "It is never too late to come to God. But neither is it free. If you swear to forsake evil and actively do good, God will take you into his embrace."

She swore it without pausing to think, but Elior knew she was sincere. For now that was enough. Time would tell whether she would live up to it. He granted her the ability to see in darkness and helped her to her feet. "Do you have any questions?"

Emma thought for a moment. "Why is this happening?"

Elior looked around, shook his head, and said, "I don't know. I'm just a messenger. I would stop it if I could, but God won't let me interfere in the Antichrist's plan."

"Nicolae?"

"No, not Nicolae. He would make a piss poor Antichrist. Nicolae is like an angry child who has no real goal in life other than to throw tantrums whenever he notices he doesn't rule the world. The real Antichrist is going to try to pass himself off as Jesus. Can you imagine what would happen if Nicolae declared himself Jesus? There'd be so many questions he couldn't answer, chief among them being who the Antichrist was.

"The idea of an Antichrist is so prevalent in popular culture that anyone claiming to be Christ needs to be able to point to someone as an Antichrist. Who could Nicolae point to? Tsion Ben-Judah?" He paused to consider that. "Actually that's not far off.

"Anyway, Nicolae is not the Antichrist. He is a patsy, and an idiot to boot. If the real Antichrist were as stupid as Nicolae my work would be much easier. I wish the real Antichrist was as ineffectual as Nicolae. The real Antichrist is working with the real Lucifer who has, for centuries, been setting this up. They did this," Elior gestured to the ubiquitous darkness and suffering. "But God let them, and I don't pretend to understand why."

Emma asked, "What does God want me to do?"

God hadn't told Elior. His instructions had ended at answering questions, with no indication of what answers he wanted Elior to give. There was always the standard answer, "Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in strangers, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and come to those in prison." He paused a moment, "Speaking of which, I have something for you," he handed her bread and a water bottle.

Emma snatched them and immediately bit into the bread, then stopped, pulled the bread away from her mouth, and looked at the starving masses around her. Elior knew what she was thinking. "Go ahead. There's enough to go around." It was the fastest he had ever seen someone eat, and he worried she might drown on her water. She survived, coming out somewhat better fed and watered and completely unscathed. "I'm planning on helping them, if that sounds like something you'd like to do, I could use the help."

Emma nodded.

"Now I might not be allowed to make this all go away, but I can preform some miracles." He handed Emma a loaf of bread. "That will feed as many people as needed. You don't happen to have any fish ... no, you wouldn't. Nevermind. You'll find the bottle is full again, and will remain that way. Go around feed people, comfort them, give them a drink, see if any of them will come to God, but most of all get them moving. The overall goal is to get all of these people moving as far as they can as fast as they can that way." Elior pointed. "If any of them will accept God call out my name. I'll see about doing for them what I did for you."

Many of them were quite willing to accept God.

-

Later:

Elior watched as the woman's soul left her body. She was clearly shocked, death by gas grenade would do that to a person. She also exhibited the kind of serenity that only people who had been relieved from great pain ever experienced. "Hello, Krystall. My name is Elior."

When she faced him she filled with fear. "No, no. I'm not here to hurt you. You helped strangers. Even when you thought there was no benefit for yourself. It cost you your life, but it earned you something far more important. I'm here to take you to Heaven, to a place prepared for ones such as you before time itself began."

Something is Wrong Here

"Rayford," Jesus said.

"Yes, Lord," Rayford responded.

"When you see My throne, join those on My left, your right."

Rayford didn't notice he had stopped in his tracks. He didn't notice that others were moving passed him. All he noticed was that something was wrong. He had been waiting for this moment for seven years. He had studied it for just as long. He was supposed to be on Jesus' right. He was sure of it. But he was just as sure of what Jesus had said.

Something was wrong.

Perhaps it was a test of faith. If it was Rayford would pass. He would do whatever Jesus commanded of him. "Yes, Lord," Rayford said. He made his way rightwards.

-

Big Sky-Man told him to move left, so Jacob moved to his left. He considered disobeying for the sake of disobeying, but didn't see the point. Big Sky-Man could simply teleport Jacob there if he didn't move, and over there didn't look any worse than where he was standing. He felt like stretching his legs anyway and didn't see any gain in pissing of Big Sky-Man. Jacob moved to his left, Big Sky-Man's right.

Jacob had never studied theology and never set foot in a church, he had no idea the significance of being on the right or the left. In fact the only thing this right-left thing brought to mind was an episode of the original series of Star Trek. It was a heavy handed commentary on race with a memorable scene in which one black on one side white on the other side alien shouted that he was superior to another similarly colored alien because the other one was, "white on the right side. All of his people are white on the right side!"

Jacob smiled at his faded memory of the scene as he made his leftwards through the crowd.

-

Below them the vast heavenly hosts were assembled. A great raised platform stood under the assorted saints and angels. On the platform Jesus sat on a throne and five angels stood. The three angels of mercy were behind Jesus, Michael and Gabriel stood to either side.

-

One of the angels stepped forward and made a speech. Jacob thought its wings were pretty.

"Jacob, " Big Sky-Man said, "come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me. "

"I've never seen you before," Jacob said.

"Assuredly, I say to you, Jacob," Big Sky-Man said, "inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren," Jacob's mind was flooded with memories. Volunteering at a soup kitchen, all the times he gave up his water ration because others needed it more, strangers who would one day be friends camped out in sleeping bags in his living room after an earthquake had toppled so many other houses.

He remembered on the night of the vanishings meeting a teenaged girl who had lost everything -literally everything- standing in the street staring at her burning house wearing nothing but a blanket, the only thing he'd had to give was the clothing he'd been wearing. It wasn't complete charity though, she'd given him the blanket in trade. There were also instances of donating clothing to charities, but they were much less notable.

Most of all he remembered the hospital. The damned hospital. He hated it. The smell, the knowledge that so many of those he was visiting would die, the horror of seeing a child, always under seven years old, being wheeled through the halls with bits of them missing. Everything about it, he had hated. But his friend had been right, there was a need. By the time there were children in need of a children's hospital all of the children's hospitals had been abandoned or repurposed. He couldn't build, he had no medical training, he had no money. He watched as others worked to make it operational, but couldn't help with that. Once it was he watched as others did the work of healing, but couldn't help with that. All he could do was go from room to room and talk to the children. So he that was what he did.

Jacob didn't actually have any memories of coming to anyone in prison.

"you did it to Me." Big Sky-Man finished.

Jacob said, "Oh."

-

With anger and yet sadness, Jesus said, "Rayford, depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me."

The words didn't really parse properly in Rayford's brain. When he said, "What! When?" it was more of a reflex than an actual question.

Jesus said, "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these,” Ray's mind filled with images, a woman on the ground next to an empty stroller that he drove passed on his way home, homeless people he had ignored on his way to various places, every person who's suffering he had left unattended because he was too busy spying on Nicolae. The images were too many to number. "you did not do it to Me. You will go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into eternal life," Jesus finished.

This wasn't right. Rayford wasn't a goat. He was a sheep. He knew it. Bruce and Tsion had both told him so. Something was wrong here. "No. No! NO!"

Somewhere, to his right, Rayford heard someone yell, "But I said the prayer!"

-

A woman near Jacob asked, "Is this a trick?"

Jacob didn't understand how she could even think that if her experience had been anything like his own. He knew, somehow, exactly what this was. He silently asked Big Sky-Man if he could tell her. Big Sky-Man said he could. He approached her, looked her in the eyes and said, "No. It's not a trick. This what we've earned. At long last our suffering is at an end."

"But I took the mark. I have the mark of the beast."

Jacob looked at her empty forehead. He had to lean slightly to see her hand. "Not anymore. I don't think marks matter anyway. It's what you do that matters."

Jacob looked passed her, the earth cracked under the people on Big Sky-Man's left. The crack expanded, lengthening and widening until it it swallowed all of them, then it shut itself. "And kerplunk. He doesn't screw around." Jacob thought for a moment, "I hope He doesn't just leave them there. I can't believe that they're all irredeemable."

-
--
-

Notes:

I originally misread "Rayford knew instinctively that every living person on earth was gathered in that valley." as "Rayford knew instinctively that every living thing on earth was gathered in that valley."

As such it made sense to include:

The onlookers instinctively knew that every living thing on earth was present. Rayford tried to determine how many human beings had survived this long. Jacob wondered where his dog and cat were. And his spider plant.

-

It took most of the morning for everyone to get where they were supposed to be. Jacob had located his pets and his plant, but the cat had gotten bored and moved on.

Unfortunately that doesn't make much sense when looking at what the text really says.

Also, Krystall, Nicolae's secretary, was originally supposed to be the one Jacob talks to, but apparently she died before the series reached it's conclusion. As a result I had to drop the original last line:

"I don't know," Krystall said, and she told him of a man who'd once tormented her when she was immersed in total darkness.