Crucifixion Reloaded by PVT - HTML preview

reaches the top. I was always there listening to your words, and I

found a goal, to love Dada and serve her, doing this with pride,

with pure unconditional love. Maybe she loved you once, but not

anymore, and I learned to forgive her.‖

―Great, one person heard my message, but you will die in a few

decades, and then what?

―I am not the only one, Neil. Some will pass it on to their

children and their children…‖

―Great, I have done my job, now Judas get out of my house

before I throw you out. You are a no one, a puppy and nothing

more, you have done nothing. The world is mine and no one

else‘s, no one will bring me down.‖

―We‘ll see about that. Farewell, my friend. I wish that you find

your way, and don‘t forget, just because you are his son, he will

still send you to hell if he sees fit.‖

―I wish the same for you, find your way leading just around the

house, past the golden gate, through the pinewoods, back to the

city. Au revoir.‖

Judas stood up and left, seeing the apostles lying one on top of

the other not knowing whom they were copulating with, what

body part they were penetrating. It could have been an ear, a

nose, or an eye socket for all they cared. Shivers ran up and down

his back.

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As he walked around the building by the neatly trimmed

bushes embracing the wall, he heard a crackle that made him stop

to find out its origin. The sound repeated itself, it was coming

from beneath the bushes. He knelt down and pulled the branches

apart and found a little window. Instead of an abandoned dark

basement, he saw a room covered with white tiles. In the middle

there stood a torture chair with a girl sitting atop of it, her legs

spread into the air withheld by cushioned extensions emerging

from the base of the chair, her vagina saluting the world. She was

eating chips, and each time she reached for some more, she made

the bag crackle. She was watching the muted television hanging

from the ceiling in the corner without a care in the world.

A video was streaming on the screen showing an interior tinted

by neon colors with dancers dancing as if they were having some

kind of a seizure. Colorful bubble letters appeared now and then,

asking the viewer who the girl was, over and over again, not

begging but demanding to know who the singer was. The screen

was muted, but the girl sitting in the chair was watching it

nonetheless, probably trying to answer the question she was

asked by the silent screen. Who‘s that chick?

The door opened, and a man wearing a white coat stepped in.

He was talking on his cellphone and just nodded to the girl.

―What movie are we going to see?‖ he asked the one on the other

side of the phone. ―The one where the girl cheats on his man in

hope of a better life or the one with the explosions?‖

He walked to the corner and pulled a strange machine on

wheels next to the girl and sat down before her.

―I don‘t know, the one with the explosion seems more

interesting.‖

He reached for a tube emerging from the side of the equipment.

―Is that actor still alive? I thought he overdosed or was

murdered or something…‖

He raised the tube and started pushing it higher and higher

into the girl‘s vagina. The girl squinted, still watching the

television, trying to answer the question pending in the air.

―Oh right, it wasn‘t him. There are far too many celebrities to

keep track of…‖

The machine started humming, and the translucent tube

became red. Judas took pictures with his phone one after the

other when he heard the shriek of an infant. He fell back to the

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ground but stood up the same instant, scurrying away from this

nightmare.

Bubbly words appeared in the sky. Who‘s that chick? Who‘s

that chick? How could this girl have an abortion just like that,

without thought or remorse of any kind?

Everything seemed so unreal and improbable, so fake and

shiny, but empty, just like the plastic apples lying in the green,

green grass. As he walked past the apple trees, he heard a hissing.

He saw two glistening ruby-red eyes staring at him from the

branches, a tongue appearing now and then, its end divided.

Judas hurried to the bike and jumped on it, speeding away and

pressing the stop button on his recorder hidden under his shirt.

He could feel the wind giving him an extra boost as if it

approved of his deeds. God speed, said the wind. Eight other

bikers joined him, and they drove down the serpentine leading to

the highway and back to the city.

Peter‘s Gospel

Peter hurried to his seat in the front row anxious for all this to

end and return to celebrate with the others at the mansion. He sat

down facing the stage with a great mahogany desk in the center

and a throne carved out of the finest rose wood behind it. Before

the desk there stood a beige sofa. The background was that of a

city, creating the false illusions of windows facing the vast urban

panorama. Peter saw the wallpaper peeling off here and there, not

understanding why this impression had to be maintained.

The cameras were pointing to the stage enlightened by blinding

spotlights scorching the ones that will have to sit beneath them.

Lights in an interrogation room. The lines and questions were

well written, supervised and accepted by a sea of lawyers.

Boredom, Peter thought, hoping to witness true surprise, just

once. The band was tuning on the other side of the stage, and the

cameras were taking their final places. The well-trained audience

was sitting in perfect silence following the strict instructions of

the coordinator preparing the signs bearing the commands that

the audience, just like perfectly trained Pavlovian dogs, must

obey.

The coordinator asked for the crowd‘s attention. He raised his

hand and pointed toward the band that started playing. The

drums, the trumpets, the piano, and the guitars poured out a

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merry tune. The coordinator raised a sign bearing the word

‗applaud‘, and the audience obeyed the same moment.

Pilate appeared at the top of the stairs. The lights on the

cameras were flashing red, all pointed at him, channeling his

image around the continent. It was his orange skin that made him

look like a man made of clay. As he smiled, his white teeth

glowed. His smile was so wide it seemed that he was about to

gobble up the whole audience. He was wearing a slim dark blue

jacket with a yellow bowtie. His black hair was combed

backwards as if it were dried by the great motors of a jet, a grey

strand dividing his skull into two even parts. He walked down the

stairs waving to the audience, blowing kisses, owning the stage

with the confidence of the host, knowing that everything here

belonged to him. He stopped at the front of the stage and bowed,

still waving here and there, nodding with humbleness au fait. He

walked to his desk and sat down taking a sip from the mug

bearing his name, Pilate.

―Welcome everybody, and thank you for being here on the last

show of the season. Today‘s guest is one of the greatest stars who

ever shone down from the night sky. A star with a message,

something so unique and singular, not only singing about love,

sex, and parties, but much more. He sings about abortion, sexual

orientation, divorce, and acceptance, most of all self-acceptance.

This is a long and dangerous road that caused the death of many,

including Lady Dada a few months ago. To her I would like to

dedicate a minute of silence and ask everybody watching us to do

the same.‖

The studio was perfectly silent, no one moved, and Peter tried

to remember the face of Dada but just couldn‘t. She was lost

among the many stars emerging and falling in the past month.

Peter felt his memories blur. In the last few weeks he was not

living in reality but in-between squirming bodies and never-

ending orgasms. He felt empty and for the first time understood,

he was the one fading and not Dada.

―And now, ladies and gentlemen, a little about today‘s guest.

Neil emerged from under the wings of Lady Dada. She was the

one who taught him to fly and stood by him even when he flew

much higher than she ever did. The pupil surpassed the mother

and of this Lady Dada was proud. An attitude so unlikely in this

world of jealousy. Neil was attacked by many, by the religions and

by the state, but no matter how hard they tried to pull him back to

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the ground by portraying him as a deluded psychopath, they just

couldn‘t grab hold of him, not inhibiting his rise in the slightest

way. He has become a leader to many. Even I believed that maybe

he truly was the son of God.

―A few months before, Neil accepted my invitation for the first

time. So, please, give him a round of applause.‖

The music started playing, and Neil appeared at the top of the

stairs. The sign went up once more, and the audience applauded.

He was wearing a white toga and sandals, his fluent hair was

freshly washed and swayed as he took each step descending into

the arena. He smiled from under his beard and waved to the

audience. He walked to Pilate, and they shook hands. As he sat

down, the applause ceased, and he too took a sip from the mug

with his name, Neil. He then placed it back next to the basket

bearing plastic fruits at the side of Pilate‘s desk.

―Thank you once more, Neil, for accepting my invitation. Tell

me, how are you?‖

―Very well, Pilate. I would have come sooner if I had the time.

Traveling around the globe seems to have taken up all of my

time.‖

―Of course. So, your second studio album will be out in a few

weeks, tell me about that.‖

―I can‘t tell you too much, but I can tell you that it will be much

more mature than the previous one, a little more edgy…‖

―More edgy than the previous one? How could that hardly be

possible? You have been already called the devil by many…‖

The audience laughed.

―…but the Messiah as well.‖

―Yes, and about that, are you really the child of God?‖ asked

Pilate bending over his desk, wrinkling his forehead, squinting

toward Neil.

―I can tell you ‗yes, I am‘, but would you believe me?‖

―Probably not,‖ said Pilate.

The audience laughed once again.

―Pilate, we are all sons and daughters of God. I am blessed, this

anyone can witness. Look where I am now. What a long road I

have come, from an untidy garage to you. God is blessing my

every step, and I know much too well that I wouldn‘t be here

without him…I am more blessed than others, and this I tell you as

a fact not as boasting.‖

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―Sometimes you seem such a horrible and arrogant person, but

I cannot tell you that I hate you, you have something that

hypnotizes me.‖

―Thank you, Pilate, you are so kind.‖

The sign rises bearing the next command. The audience starts

awing and to Peter it seems so false, like the fruits on the desk,

the tan on Pilate‘s face, and the mannerisms of Neil. Peter

shuddered and felt himself emerge from the darkness he was

sinking into the last few weeks and started rising toward the light.

―I am not arrogant,‖ continued Neil. ―I just know what I have

and what I have achieved.‖

―Do you think you can change the world?‖

―I don‘t know whether I can, I can only hope.‖

―Tell me about this world you would like to bring to earth.‖

―It is a world where the saint trinity rules over all,‖ said Neil

reciting something that was boring him to death, ―the perfect

harmony of the body, mind, and heart, a world where life is

acknowledged as a gift and is treated as such, where life is lived to

its fullest and is not sacrificed to inhibitions or overuse.‖

The screens over Peter‘s head flickered, screens that were dark

and hiding in obscurity until now, sizzling as a picture came on. It

took time for Peter to recognize what those pictures were. At first

it seemed a perverted painting of body parts mounted one on top

of the other, but it wasn‘t. It was their orgy, and for the first time

he saw himself from outside as he was having an orgasm, and he

seemed hideous to himself. Just sitting there as a spectator it

seemed disgusting, it was lacking something, it was an act for the

sake of an act, it was murder for the sake of murder. It was sin,

and this recognition pierced through his heart like a spear.

Neil continued, ―It is the land of ultimate acceptance and

tolerance, a world where no sacrifices are made, no one has to

suffer for the good of the other, knowing that your personal

happiness is just as important as the happiness of the other

because only in this state does your body, mind, and heart

function at its greatest potential.‖

The screen flickered, now showing Neil as he snorts up a line of

cocaine. The next picture immortalized his face as the first dash

of pleasure ran across him making him shiver, sharpening all his

senses. Next Peter saw a woman with her legs spread into the air

and a man wearing a white cape sitting before her on a stool with

a strange machine on his side.

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The audience started whispering, and the murmur was building

up. The ones sitting before the TV set, millions of people around

the continent were witnessing the horror, men reduced to the

state of animals. For weeks he was an animal, a being that forgot

to ask questions and search for the answers. Neil tripped, but had

not changed and tripped once again, this time rolling down the

stairs.

―Many say that I am selfish, but I am not because you were

born to be happy. This is your ultimate goal and nothing more,

not because it is selfish but because this is the only sacrifice that

should be made. But you know that sacrifice is not sacrifice when

you give up the worse for the better, just like Jesus who did not

sacrifice himself either and left the limited world for the limitless

heaven. He had the luxury of the certainty that heaven exists,

unlike us humans who‘ll never know for sure.‖

The next picture showed the man sucking the fetus out of the

woman‘s womb. The world hissed, and Peter soon understood

who betrayed them, but he had to ask himself whether this act

was truly an act of betrayal. A whistle emerged from the crowd, a

single whistle as sharp as a knife.

The speakers started playing something over and over again,

and Peter recognized Neil‘s voice, ‗I break the bread and give it to

them, and they will eat it even if it is covered in mold. I raise the

glass of wine and offer it to them, and they will drink it even if it

is full of poison. They will take whatever I give them.‘

Neil turned to the crowd and stopped talking for a second.

―What is happening?‖ he asked turning back to Pilate.

―The truth has come out, Neil. This is your world, your

dystopia.‖

―What do you mean?‖

Pilate nodded toward the screens. Neil stood up, walked toward

the audience, and stopped, turned to stone by the snakes of

Medusa. Peter couldn‘t move either, shocked by what he was

seeing. Then the first paper cup flew into the air, floating over the

audience, and Peter could swear he heard the music of the

Danube as the cup rotated and spun barely missing Neil. Then the

rest of the cups and handkerchiefs followed. It was a piece of

pretzel that hit Neil in his head and disrupted his shock. He

staggered to Pilate.

―What have you done?‖ asked Neil.

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―What do you mean? You are a two-faced liar and this, the

world had to know.‖

―You will pay for this, Pilate, I‘ll have all my lawyers bring you

down…‖

―And I‘ll pay the consequences, but believe me I have money. I

am the one who dragged you to the floor, made you human again,

this is enough for me. My audience will be satisfied.‖

―This is a lie, a horrible lie,‖ said Neil directing his words to the

crowd, and then he turned back to Pilate saying, ―They know that

I am docile as a lamb, that I am good. The mass will not turn

away even if they see that I am not perfect. I am their leader, and

they will follow me…‖

―Oh, Neil, Neil, Neil, this is where you are so terribly wrong. It

is not you that control the mass, but the other way around. You

can get away with many things until the mass is living in the false

impression that you are impeccable, you can lead them until you

don‘t actually name the fact that you are leading them. This

saddle is ever so thin and is created with mutual consent, you give

them the fake illusion that perfect freedom can be achieved while

they give you a pass that lets you get away with almost everything

except this, acknowledged leadership.‖

―They will not turn away…‖

―You have broken the pact, not because you lied to them but

because you openly acknowledged to be leading them. Humans

are proud, and you put a spotlight onto your arrogance and their

ignorance. Your mask has fallen, and the world now sees you for

who you are and not how you would want them to see you.‖

Pilate stood up.

―Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you Neil.‖ The crowd started

booing. ―Thank you for coming, Neil, it was a pleasure.‖

Neil stood up and hurried outside as Pilate turned to the

audience. ―And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you

my newest young talent who will soon be rocking the world. I give

to you Barabbas with his first single I murdered your heart.‖

Barabbas started playing, and the booing turned into an

unstoppable cheering. As the music filled the studio, Peter felt a

hand caress his face, a comforting touch that made him smile and

close his eyes enjoying the movement. He raised his arm to grab

hold of this heavenly limb, but as he squeezed it a little, he felt

that it was ice cold.

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He opened his eyes and felt he was losing grip of reality. He

wanted to look the being caressing him straight in the eyes, but

one of its eye sockets was empty. Meat was dangling from its face,

and a maggot appeared from its nostril and disappeared into its

mouth. Peter jumped up in fear, but no one seemed to notice the

floating corpse with its meat dress swaying ever so calmly. He

gave out a shriek that was not strong enough to defeat the music

and started running with all his might away from this nightmare.

He left the studio and found himself in the backstage with the

crew hurrying in all directions, a tidy chaos moving the show

without ever being seen or acknowledged. He turned around and

was glad to see that no one was following him. He turned around

the corner and found himself face to face with the rotting corpse.

―He will fall…‖ hissed the monster.

Peter screamed once more and started running the opposite

direction. The music was slowly fading away. He ran through the

labyrinth of corridors too narrow, fearing he was going insane. He

just ran, scared to stop even for a second. He took a right and

found himself in-between the iron beams withholding the fake

background of the stage and the lights over it. The music was

growing louder. The iron beams shot from all directions, like a

cage. He moved in the darkness colliding with the iron now and

then, climbing over it, ducking beneath it. The fear kept him

moving.

He was right behind the stage as the music was deafening now.

The forest of beams became thinner, and soon he found himself

before the stairs leading over the stage.

―He will fall,‖ said the voice, and Peter turned around to see the

being floating towards him through the beams, uninhibited by

matter, just like a deadly smoke trying to catch him.

Peter hurried up the stairs, his steps turning into metallic

clatter, barely audible, melting into the tune played by Barabbas.

Higher and higher he went, still followed by this disembodied

apparition trying to seize him. He took the last step and found

himself on an iron bridge leading nowhere, a dead end, probably

used for the maintenance of spotlights fastened to the railing.

He started backing, his heart thumping in his throat, about to

faint anytime. He imagined his body falling on top of Barabbas

before the eyes of the crowd. What a show, what a show that

would be.

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The corpse landed on the top of the stairs. Its shoes touched the

floor, platforms so high it made it three heads taller than Peter. It

began to walk, the maggot hurried out of the eye socket and

disappeared into its nose. The healthy eye was so familiar, but the

missing skin and the tattered muscles made it impossible for

Peter to recognize it.

The music playing beneath them was reaching the end of the

obligatory variation and was now culminating, giving place to the

refrain that would wash through the crowd already familiar with

the tune, heard many times during the song.

The skin of the being was growing from the neck faster and

faster, covering its face until Peter recognized her, it was Lady

Dada.

―Mother monster,‖ he said kneeling down and bowing his head.

Her white skin was glowing and made her seem a mirror of

heaven itself. She stopped before him and caressed his head.

―Stand up, Peter.‖

Peter obeyed looking up into her eyes shimmering like the

surface of the sea as the sun sets beneath the horizon.

―What happened to us?‖ he asked her.

Lady Dada smiled and caressed his face before speaking in her

sweet motherly voice. ―You were led by him, you were blinded by

your own consent, you followed a leader that was lost himself, a

captain that orders the ship forward not acknowledging the great

hole at the bottom.‖

―How could he lose himself, isn‘t he the son of God?‖

―He is, in the form of a human, he may be divine, but in this

state he is human, blinded by notoriety.‖

―Can‘t we do anything? Will the son of God go to hell?‖

―He will