I make it to my room and am loosening my tie to remove it, when Martha enters without knocking.
“You think I set that up, don’t you?” she asks. “The matches are randomly generated and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You could enjoy it a little less.”
“I created the competition to make everyone in the house a better fighter. I think competition brings out the best in people. As a matter of fact, there’s one area where I think I could be more competitive.”
She crosses the room and smoothens my tie by running her hand down it as far as my belly button.
“Leave your tie on,” she says. “Martha the student always did love the ties.”
She’s so close I can smell her hair. I want to run my fingers through it, around to the back of her neck, then pull her into me for a kiss. I remind myself that as real as it was to me, it was never real to her and this is probably just a ploy to manipulate me in some way.
“Please don’t,” I say. “I can’t go through those games again.”
“Cephas? Have you seen Martha? We just got a message-”
Amelia enters the room; then stops short, when she sees how close we’re standing.
“I’m sorry. Was I interrupting something?”
“Always,” Martha mutters under her breath.
Amelia hands over a piece of paper and disappears.
“It looks like you need the tie after all. The elders will speak with you now.”
****
This time the screen is split into four sections, but only the first has a face on it. The other three show blank walls to indicate the occupants of those chairs have not yet arrived.
“Dr. Paulson. It’s a privilege to meet you,” the woman on the first screen says.
She’s probably in her middle fifties and is quite striking, with jet black hair coupled with a light complexion and deep blue eyes. Her beauty is natural. There are no signs of enhancing, but she’s showing the first signs of natural aging, with some barely perceptible wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. I would bet that she takes great pride in the fact that she’s not enhanced. Twenty years ago, I bet every head would have turned when she entered a room. Even today, I bet more heads would turn than not.
“My name is Aislin. I’m glad we’re getting an opportunity to speak before the others join us.”
“I don’t mind if the jury is late and I’d prefer the executioner not show up at all,” I reply.
She looks confused.
“Isn’t this part two of the trial that the Four Council started?”
“A trial, Dr. Paulson? Of course not.”
“So you don’t think of me as a war criminal?”
“We all have a past. I’d rather discuss the present and the future. Thanks to you, the future is looking much brighter. You’ve done more to restore faith to its rightful place in the world than most of my colleagues have done in decades.”
“Until very recently I was known more for hunting down believers than restoring them.”
“Wasn’t Paul known in the same way? But wasn’t he then used for much greater things?” she asks.
Paul described himself as a slave of Jesus Christ. So far, the motives of every Christian leader I’ve meet have been a little more selfish.
“Paul was known for great teaching and-”
“Indeed, Dr. Paulson,” a man says as he enters the view on the second screen and sits in the chair, “but as I’ve explained to Aislin many times, Paul was also a man of great patience.”
I would guess the man is of North African descent, perhaps Moroccan or Algerian. He appears to be about ten to fifteen years older than I am. In many ways, the most striking thing about him is the fact he’s wearing small round glasses. Although sunglasses are common, virtually everyone has their vision surgically corrected at a young age; so glasses with clear lenses are rarely seen.
“I am Garai, and like Paul, I am also a man of great patience. I don’t know what sort of action Aislin is hoping to take, but it is clear to me that right now is a time of great vulnerability for us and we must be cautious.”
“Patience should never be used as an excuse for doing nothing,” Aislin replies.
“Doing nothing is better than doing the wrong thing. For example -”
“This appears to be an old discussion for you two,” I say.
“I assume it didn’t take your much-celebrated powers of observation to figure that out,” Aislin replies.
“From what I’ve observed so far, the houses of the Four movement are divided,” I say. “Some are splitting off and preparing to fight. I’m told you represent the older generations of Christians, but your house seems to be just as divided. Tell me about your organizations.”
“Ladies first,” Garai says.
“I speak for those Christians who recognize that despite its flaws, the system has created a good life for humanity,” Aislin says. “My people have been consolidating resources and power for decades and are positioned to influence the system from within to reincorporate faith with minimal disruption. If we could unite behind your banner-”
“You want a Theocracy? A religious regime with me at its head?”
Or as just its figurehead?
“Dr. Paulson, don’t act naïve. I watched your lecture and you’re quite correct. We still vote and pretend it matters; but the United States has been a Theocracy for two-hundred years, with the religion in charge being atheism,” she replies.
I turn to Garai.
“It looks like I hold the banner and Aislin walks the halls of power and money. What do you bring to the parade?”
“Aislin represents the aristocracy - those people who only invite change so long as they remain in charge. You could say that I, therefore, represent the common man. While Aislin represents a few well connected individuals, I represent millions of Christians and the network that holds them together.”
“Garai has people passing papers back and forth in the shadows,” Aislin replies, “but they might come out if you lead them.”
The aristocrats and the common man. The Sadducees and the Pharisees. New pieces in the same old puzzle.
“The creation of the Four movement is making more sense. You have people who want to lead, but you have no followers.”
I nod to Aislin.
“And you have followers, but nowhere to lead them.”
I nod to Garai.
“Young Christians created Four because they got sick of waiting for you two to do something. Now they have technology and combat teams and are split over what to do with themselves. You should be flattered at how well they’re emulating you.”
We sit in silence, but their eyes tell me they’re both seething.
“I think I see now what the players are bringing to the table - except for one. What is it you really want me to bring to the True Holy War? Shall I swell Garai’s ranks of Christians hiding in the shadows? Could I bring more powerful believers into Aislin’s organization? Can I teach Four how to deploy its technology for maximum effect, like I taught the Bureau?”
I watch their faces again, but still receive nothing but angry silence.
“Fine. If you can’t fill in those blanks, at least fill the blank screens on the wall. It’s clear that I don’t lead anyone; so at least tell me who sits in the last two chairs and really speak for Four.”
“For now, that would be me,” a male voice says as a man enters the view of the camera.
It’s Brill’s twin brother Austin, who once posed as a bartender in San Francisco just to speak to me. Austin and Brill look to be in at least their eighties, with deeply wrinkled faces but young and fiery eyes. I wonder if he sees the irony of his face representing the youth movement.
“And the last chair?”
Zip sits in the last seat, but says nothing.
“How long have you two been listening?”
“Since the beginning,” Austin replies
I gauge the faces of Aislin, Garai and Martha.
They knew Austin and Zip were listening all along. This was just another game and even Martha was in on it.
I shoot a hurt but resolute look at Martha through the open door to the control room. She looks away from my gaze.
“People, money and technology. You seem to have a nice little balance of power here. You don’t need me.”
“Perhaps not, Dr. Paulson, but you must see that you need us,” Aislin replies first. “Without us, you’re nothing but a face on a screen.”
“I know, but it’s starting to look like being with any of you would only serve to ruin me.”
I’m looking at Martha as I say the last part. Was it just a few months ago that she said having sex with me would “ruin” me? She’s rendered speechless by the implication she’s corrupted and it would soil me to be around her. The others, of course, don’t understand the reference, but everyone can see the wound I’ve inflicted on Martha.
“I warned you!”
Martha yells at the faces on the screens when she recovers her voice.
The five of them start bickering over each other’s motives; whether I can be trusted; the dangers of action and inaction; and a variety of issues they’ve argued over a hundred times before. I sit there in silence for a while; then stand to leave.
“Where are you going?” Martha asks and the bickering ends.
“I think I’ll follow Paul’s path and keep teaching. Hearts have been stirred all over the world. I just want to keep on doing what I’ve done my entire life: study and teach.”
“Teaching God’s Word is a noble goal,” Aislin says. “But you must see that you have a wider role to play. You stirred those hearts, and you are the only choice to lead them into battle.”
You Are. There are those words again. The world stepping in to define me.
“I’ve been told once that I could be the real leader in the True Holy War… but this isn’t an army I can lead.”
****
I recognize Martha’s footfalls as she catches up with me a kilometer from Bethany House.
“Where are you going? And where is your guard?”
“I want to spend time with people who have no agenda; so I told him to get lost. I’m going to Bill and Wendy’s house. If you want to take guard duty, then join me; otherwise I’ll see you when I get back.”
We walk in silence until we reach the edge of the woods, where we can look across the open field at Bill and Wendy’s little house. Once again, Wendy is in the window. This time the door is standing open for us and I can smell something delicious cooking inside.
“Have you ever had home-baked bread, dear?” Wendy asks me.
She’s wearing a pink frilly cooking apron that must be a hundred years old, but has been treated with loving care as it’s been passed from one generation to the next.
“It’s been a while. My Mother would sometimes make it when I was young.”
“She sounds like my kind of gal. Maybe she and I should trade recipes sometime.”
“She would have loved that. Unfortunately, she and my Father died in an accident when I was eight.”
“How horrible. What happened?”
“A freak tube car depressurization. You must remember it, the accident wasn’t far from here. It happened on the line between Winchester and Martinsburg.”
“I do remember it,” Wendy says. “With you parents gone, who raised you?”
Wendy removes the bread from the pan to cool.
“My Aunt Jennifer.”
“I guess she wasn’t the bread-baking sort then?” Wendy asks.
I snort a laugh at the thought of it. Aunt Jennifer was definitely not the bread-baking sort. My Dad’s sister was a cold, childless woman who did not want to be saddled with her nephew. She was tall and lanky like Dad, but with dark, hawkish features and a calculating demeanor. The paradox of mentally imposing a frilly pink apron onto her is an image worth laughing at.
“Aunt Jennifer didn’t cook. Mostly we just left each other alone as much as possible.”
“Is she still alive? Is she the only family you have, dear?”
Wendy cocks her head to one side.
She’s probing for something.
“Oh, she’s quite alive, but I’m sure she’ll have disowned me. She’s a devout atheist.”
“And what about your Mother’s side? No family there?”
My face drops as I stare at Wendy, which doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. I stare long enough that I can see Martha begin to tense and scan the room for danger.
“I never said my Aunt Jennifer was from my Dad’s side of the family.”
I reply in a slow, measured voice as I gauge Wendy’s reaction to being caught.
“Just like James,” Bill says as he enters the room. “He never missed a detail either. When your Father was young, I once saw him playing a game with some other boys. He crossed a field at a dead sprint with his head down. You know what he did then? He stopped the game and retraced his steps, and bent down and picked a four-leafed clover. His brain had noticed a break in the usual pattern of clover leaves as he sprinted past. I’ll never forget it.”
“There’s a lot of Hannah in there too,” Wendy says. “The memory, the gift with languages and, of course, her thirst for knowledge.”
I stand in silence, looking back and forth between them. Now I know why they wanted to speak with me. They just stand there smiling, enjoying the fact that they’ve surprised me and waiting to hear what I’ll say next.
Knowing your parent’s names doesn’t mean they were friends.
“How well did you know my parents?”
“Very well. They were part of our prayer group.”
“Prayer group? My parents weren’t Christians. They were well-known atheists. Mom worked for the Department of Education in the group that monitored curriculum to ensure there were no accidental religious references and Dad worked for the Department of Energy.”
“And they worked very hard and sometimes attended meetings that went late into the night or on Sunday mornings?”
I sit down hard in one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
“I’ll have that slice of bread now,” I say.
Everyone waits for me to speak.
“Why didn’t they tell me?” I ask.
“They were in too sensitive a position to risk it. You might have bowed your head in thanks or looked at the sky for too long, or any number of things in front of the wrong person.”
“He’s right,” Martha adds. “My parents drilled those sorts of things into me from a very early age and they weren’t in any sort of government positions.”
Wendy brings the bread, already covered with melted butter.
It tastes just like I remember Mom’s bread tasting. Is it the same recipe?
“Thanks for telling me. I see why you wanted to keep it private.”
“Actually, there’s more that we‘d intended to be for your ears only, but we discussed it with Brill and he says there’s nothing we can’t say in front of Martha,” Wendy says.
We all sit in awkward silence, waiting for either Bill or Wendy to speak what’s on their minds.
“Well?” I say.
“This isn’t easy,” Bill says. “So I guess I’ll just spit it out. Cephas, your parents didn’t die in a freak accident. They were murdered.”
“Murdered? That’s not possible. When I was ten, Aunt Jennifer showed me the files she had kept on my parent’s deaths. I saw the pictures of what was left of the tube car. I read the independent analysis of the part failure on the magnetic lift. They redesigned half of the system after the accident. If it was a murder, someone would have found evidence. Aunt Jennifer herself went to D.C. to -“
“Ah, yes. Your Aunt Jennifer. I’m sure the file she showed you contained all of the right things for you to see. I’ll give you a copy of all the information I gathered. I’m sure you’ll see some differences.”
I take another bite of the bread.
“Did you know Jennifer wasn’t supposed to become your guardian if something happened to your parents?” Wendy asks. “Your parents wanted you to be raised by your Mother’s sister, your Aunt Kimberly.”
“I don’t have an Aunt Kimberly. My Mom was an only child.”
“Is that what Jennifer told you? I’m not surprised. She and your Father were raised as ardent religious abolitionists. When your Father fell in love with your Mother, his whole family was beside itself. When your folks died, Jennifer used her connections in the government and pounced on the chance to get you away from what she considered to be the religious nuts on your mother’s side.”
“Aunt Jennifer is the one who encouraged my ability with foreign languages. She’s the one who put me onto studying the ancient languages. She used to make me study for hours and hours. She told me I would be the greatest abolitionist ever if I understood the languages of the Bible because I’d be able to hunt down the cults.”
“And that was a darned good plan on her part - until God used it for his own purposes,” Bill says. “God floated you right down the river and into Pharaoh’s house, just like Moses.”
“This is all coming too fast,” I say. “My parents were secret Christians high up in the government and didn’t die in an accident. I have another family out there who were hidden from me, and now I’m being compared to Moses. On top of Aislin and Garai, I’ve heard enough for one day.”
“Have another bite of bread and let it all settle for a while, dear,” Wendy says.
I take her advice and try to let the information melt into me like the butter on her bread.
“Where does my Aunt Kimberly live? Does she know about me?”
“She knows about you, but I don’t know where she lives,” Bill replies. “We thought you knew. We wouldn’t have mentioned her if we’d realized.”
“Why did the government kill my parents? Did they find their secret?”
“It’s not clear it was the government. For all we know, it was Aislin or Garai. They’re both capable of it.”
My head snaps around to Martha.
“How much of this did you know?”
“All of it.”
I stare at Martha.
“How could you let me meet with them without telling me one of them might have murdered my parents?”
“There’s no proof. I didn’t want to bias you.”
“You’re right. What’s most important to know is not which group has my parents’ blood on its hands. It’s the fact that all sides are capable of murder. And by saying they’re capable of murder, I mean they’re capable of murder while claiming it was a righteous killing done in the name of their god - whether it’s in the name of Jesus or in the name of the god they made themselves, named atheism. The bottom line is all of these groups are still religions and religions have become the true enemy of God’s people.”
All three of them look shocked at my statement.
“You see religion as the enemy?” Wendy asks. “Without religion, how would the faithful be organized? How would we ensure sound doctrine is followed? If everyone is off on their own, they’ll start to develop all sorts of strange beliefs. They’ll start adding things and removing things.”
A broad smile crosses my face.
“Wendy, you’re describing what most organized religions have been doing for two millennia. We’ve been separated from God since Eve bit the apple and in some ways, we only separated more after Jesus died on the cross. Religious institutions and their doctrines are just another sign of our separation from God - not the pathway back.”
“You make it all sound so simple,” Bill says.
“It is simple. Jesus made it as easy for us as he could, and yet we still messed it up. Love Him and love your neighbor. It’s the institutions we created that are so complex.”
“So, what’s your plan to change the system? Find a staff and say to everyone ‘Let my people go’?”
“If you’re going to keep comparing me to Moses, then I’ll point out that Moses didn’t have his own plan. He had faith and let it all work out according to God’s plan. As for the staff, I already have one.”