A Step of Faith (20 page)

I gestured to the people in the room. “These people?”

“They shall rule the world.”

“Where are they from?”

“The earth, of course.”

“I assumed that.”

“Assume nothing,” El said. “They are the children of light. They are like the first stars in the twilight sky before nighttime is upon us and the fullness of the galaxy is seen in all its brilliance. But these are only a few of the enlightened. I have thousands of followers, in dozens of countries. I have nearly a hundred ordained missionaries out gathering the pure in heart, those not so darkened by their lusts and fears to hear truth. They are out seeking the tinder that is ready for the spark of enlightenment to blaze in their hearts and souls.”

“These followers will do whatever you say?”

“I am their teacher and representative to the Guardians. Though, truthfully, I am merely a substitute teacher, filling in until the real teachers arrive—the Gods hasten that day! They could step in anytime. They are all around us. They have been for millennia.”

“Your followers seem . . .” I hesitated.

El squinted. “They seem what?”

“. . . Brainwashed.”

His expression turned fierce. “Do you even know what that term means?”

“People whose brains have been coercively washed clean by some outside force,” I said.

“. . . And filled by another? Or should I say, programmed by another. You, of all people, should not be casting stones,” he said, his voice ripe with disgust. “An
advertising
man.”

“Our job was to inform,” I said.

He laughed. “Is that what you told yourself?” He leaned on one elbow. “Your job was to change behavior to profit your clients. Am I right?”

“Yes,” I relented.

“My motives are much more pure. I’m informing these people of the truth and providing them a practical structure in which the truth can flourish. Tell me, do these people look unhappy?”

I had to admit that they looked content. “No.”

“Their service to me, is it beneath them?”

“Some would say—”

He pounded his fist on the table. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not talking about some ambiguous cultural psychobabble. What do
you
say, Alan?”

His sudden outburst unnerved me. “Making others serve you seems self-serving.”

He looked at me for a moment, then said with a softer voice, “Fair enough. But it is in losing themselves that they find themselves. It is in their service that they find use and meaning. Do you think they are suffering?”

“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head. “Then why don’t you ask them? AshEl,” he said, motioning over a young, strawberry-blond woman. She walked over to us, knelt at El’s feet and kissed them. “Yes, Master.”

“This Earthman wants to know if you are suffering.”

“Suffering?”

“Yes, he’s afraid you might be suffering here,” he said. “You may speak to him.”

She looked at me with a vacant expression. “Why would you think I’m suffering? Outside these walls the world is full of confusion and hate. For the first time in my life I feel peace.” She turned back to El. “My master is to be praised for my salvation.”

“Tell the Earthman about your life in the dark.”

“I was an exotic dancer and an alcoholic. For the first time in my life I’m free.” She again kissed El’s feet.

He ran his hand over the crown of her head. “Thank you, AshEl. You may wait for me in my pod.”

A large smile crossed her face. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

She glanced back at me, then ran off.

“Suffering?” El said. “She’s never been happier.”

“What about the woman I met by the road?”

“Her sanctification is the most important thing she’s done in her previously inconsequential life, as it is for all of them. I take their mental and spiritual anarchy and organize it, even as the Gods organized the chaos of space into this world and universe. I’m giving them order. And with it, joy, freedom and peace.”

“I can see peace,” I said, “maybe even a sense of happiness, but freedom?”

“Definitely freedom. Freedom from the burden of choice. The human mind, cynical as it may be, is seeking to be controlled. And, when you understand the mechanics of the human brain as the Guardians do, it is a very easy thing to control. Even one as intelligent as yours.”

I said nothing and he looked at me with a dark, wry stare. “Well done, Alan. You’re as wise as I thought.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You didn’t say that you couldn’t be controlled. Ironically, the most susceptible to mind control are precisely those who don’t believe they are susceptible.”

My head was hurting. “Are you saying that your followers will do anything you say?”

He looked at me for a moment, then said, “Anything and
everything
. As they should.”

“Would they kill for you?” I immediately regretted asking the question, realizing that I might have endangered myself.

His eyes turned dark. “I would not ask.” Then, to my relief, his expression softened. “Enough of this. How was your dinner?”

I breathed out. “It was good.”

“It was
exquisite
,” he said. “I am fatigued. Do you have any other questions?”

“Just one. Do you believe in the devil?”

“Of course. But, again, we actually understand him. Actually,
them
. Like God, Satan is a group. More of a movement, a faction if you will.”

“Explain,” I said.

“The Guardians are democratic. They support the Father, Alpha and Omega, as their Supreme Leader. But, in all societies, there are dissenters. Especially when it comes to the issue of homo sapiens. The Guardian Supreme, or Godhead, believes that mankind has intrinsic value. They believe, if you will, in our potential. But not all of the Ahn are of the same opinion. Many, especially the Satanists, believe that humans are beasts, only good for servitude. They believe that too much knowledge has been given to
humans already, wasted on us. They, like the Guardians, have access to the same telepathic technology. They use it to tempt us to defy the Guardians and to follow our baser, animal instincts, proving that we are, truly, primitive beings—something not easily disputable given the current state of humanity.”

“Tempt?”

“Yes, temptation. Think of how inspiration works. It is simply the enlightening of the mind with an idea. Isn’t temptation just inspiration with a negative bend?

“We are living in a spiritual war zone, Alan. Deny it at your own peril. Let he who has eyes see, the war rages on and soon everyone must choose a side. Freedom or eternal bondage. That is the only question. So let me ask you, Alan. Which side are you on? Will you join us? Or will you continue to wander, as you have, lost in a dark, confused world?”

“You’re asking me to stay?”

“I’m
inviting
you to stay. At least for the night.”

I hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Alan. Where will you go tonight? Sleep in the woods somewhere? It’s late.”

I looked around, weighing my options, not sure that I had any. I still wasn’t sure what El was capable of and I was definitely outnumbered. If I needed to escape, it would be better at night. “All right,” I said.

El tapped his glass with his fork and the blue-haired man appeared. “DarEl, please show Mr. Alan to a suitable pod. Show him the restroom facilities as well.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Thank you for dinner,” I said to the young man.

“It was my pleasure,” El replied. “A most enjoyable conversation.”

DarEl showed me to the bathroom, which was unisex with no stalls and no locking door, then he took me to a “pod,” as they called it, a small bunkroom with six beds, just off the main room where we had dined. I claimed a bottom bunk and slid my pack under the bed. I didn’t sleep. Even though El hadn’t threatened me, I still felt like a prisoner. The entire experience was surreal. I wondered if this was how all of El’s followers had begun. Had they initially been as skeptical as I was? Frankly, I was terrified. I knew that I had to get out of there.

Five others came into the room during the night and fell asleep. I just lay there quietly, waiting for something to happen. I wasn’t disappointed.

CHAPTER

Thirty-one

The shackles of belief, when reinforced by fear, are difficult to break free from and rarely done.

Alan Christoffersen’s diary

The sound I heard was a strained, painful whimpering, like the muffled cry of a wounded animal. I checked my watch. It was three thirty-six in the morning. No one in the pod stirred. I reached into my pack and felt for my gun. I didn’t take it out, I was just reassuring myself of its presence. Then I got out of bed and crept to the door and looked out.

It was dark in the main room, illuminated only by the moonlight through the windows. In the far corner, near the audio tables, a woman was kneeling on the ground. Her hands were clasped around the back of her neck and her forehead was pressed to the rug. I looked around to make sure we were alone, then stole out, crossing the room. I knelt down next to her.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

She jumped, startled by my voice, but, like the woman tied to the tree, didn’t answer.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She hesitated again, then, with her face still to the ground, whispered, “I’m being punished.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“It’s okay.”

For a moment she lay there, struggling with what to do. Then she looked up at me. She was young, probably not even twenty. She had short, sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes, large with fear. “Who are you?”

“You can trust me,” I said.

She swallowed. “I asked to see my sister. I shouldn’t have asked. So I’m being punished.”

“Why can’t you see your sister?”

“She’s not a believer. It’s for my own good.”

“No it’s not,” I said. I put my hand on her back and she flinched. I looked to where her blouse was raised over her waist. There were red welts. “They did this to you?”

“I deserved my punishment.”

“You need to get out of here,” I said.

“I can’t,” she said. “Master El said I can’t leave.”

“I’ll get you out of here.”

She hesitated for a moment, then looked into my eyes. “You will?”

“Yes. But we have to leave now.”

“The gate is guarded.”

“We’ll get out,” I said. “Come on.”

We silently crept back to my room. I took the gun out of my pack, checked the safety, then shoved a magazine into it and put it in my trousers. Then I put on my pack. The young woman sat on the floor next to me, shaking with fear.

“What’s your name?” I whispered.

“EmEl.”

“What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“Your earth name,” I said.

She hesitated and I wasn’t sure if she’d forgotten it or was afraid to say it. “Emily,” she said slowly, breathing out. “It’s been a while since I’ve said that name.”

“I’m Alan. Just do what I say and stay close to me.”

We crouched down next to the door until I was sure no one was awake, then we crossed the main room to the entrance I’d come in through. I turned to Emily. “Is there an alarm?”

“I don’t know.”

“Be ready to run.” I unbolted the door, then slowly opened it. Nothing. We quickly slipped out and I shut the door behind us. About five yards from the door we must have tripped a motion detector as several floodlights turned on.

“Hurry,” I said, taking her hand. The gate was closed and we ran to the guard booth. A man was standing inside reading the red book. There was a red button on the wall next to him.

“Open the gate,” I said.

My voice startled him. “What are you—”

“Open the gate,” I repeated.

“I can’t do that. Not without Master’s permission.”

I took out my gun and leveled it at him. “Then we’ll do it ourselves. Step away from the button.”

He still didn’t move.

“You’re illegally keeping us here. I’m within my rights to shoot you and open it myself. Either open it now or raise your hands and step back. Don’t make me shoot you.”

He hesitated just a moment, then raised his hands above his head and stepped back.

“Emily, push the button.”

She looked at the man fearfully.

“If he touches you, I’ll shoot him.”

The man raised his hands higher. “I won’t touch her. Please don’t shoot me.”

Emily stepped past him and pushed the button. There was a mechanical click and the gate began to open.

“I’m sorry, BarEl,” she said to the man.

“Don’t follow us,” I said. “And don’t sound an alarm.”

The man swallowed but didn’t move, paralyzed by fear. “It’s no use running,” he said. “The Guardians will find you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I replied.