Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult (2 page)

The lecture
theatre was no more than five minutes away at a brisk walk. I was
already five minutes late but on my standards that was on time. At
my arrival the lecturer would be recapitulating yesterday’s lecture
and dealing with some general confusion expressed by the students
before he gets into the day’s lecture. As he finishes with the
recap, I would be barging in through the door on the right side of
the lecture theatre and take a seat on the first row of the right
column on the second seat from the aisle. Up front and where the
early birds are easy to ignore. Without fail on the left column,
past the middle column, first row on the second seat from the
aisle, sitting alone like me, would be Courtney. Her frazzled black
hair tied into a pony-tail and a black or grey over-sized shawl on
over her shoulder. In a black, white or grey embroidered dress she
would be taking notes on her notepad. As I take my seat she would
raise her head, brush away a strand of stray hair with her pen
hand, look right at me with a smile upon her face and greet me with
a nod, a wave or mouth a ‘hello’. That would not be the beginning
and the end of our silent exchange, it would go on throughout the
lecture in non-distractive intervals at specific cues as if we
shared the same frame of mind and sixth sense. Never have I spoken
to her other than those times or with the use of my voice. That was
just enough, that was fitting for us. I knew we were similar in
many ways because although I was never one to raise my hand in
class and be vocal about my views and problems she would do it for
me, often she was vocal and when she articulated her views it felt
like she was an external mouthpiece for my inner thoughts. Elegant,
pure and mystifying. It looked as if she could sense it too.

Five minutes
later I walked in and resumed my seat. Instinctively, I glanced
over where she would be and as if on cue she raised her head,
smiled and gave me a firm nod. Infected by her warm spirit I smiled
and mouthed a greeting. As expected she had a grey over-sized shawl
over her shoulders and wore a white embroidered dress. I noticed
she also wore a beat necklace bearing an orphic symbol that was
star-like. Something that lent her an almost occult aura and poise.
Upon seeing it I decided that that would be the day I speak to her
for the first time, because unlike the other dumb
lifelings
in that lecture theatre she had proven herself time and time again
to be something truly unique. I could feel my thoughts and deepest
yearnings start to salivate at the anticipation of the
encounter.

For her I
carried less anxiety, I assumed. The possibility that a soul like
hears could be judgmental, impatient and unwelcoming was minor. She
appeared to be one who faces even the strangest of circumstances
and people with a healthy dose of ease and thoughtfulness. Rashness
and pride was absent in her demeanour and approach in class. She
brave and cautious. She stood out to me because she was odd in the
sense that she did not possess the usual traits that one expects
from her kind, the frivolous die young spirit and the idea that
they are the pinnacle of all civilisations and the pervasive belief
that they are invincible and entitled. They swear by
open-mindedness but what they mean by that is selective openness,
if an idea appears archaic and exotic they cringe and cower to the
depths of rejection.

“Now
utilitarianism does not believe that an action is intrinsically
wrong and right. The only determinant of whether an action is right
or wrong is by whether or not it maximizes overall happiness,” the
lecturer continued. “What is meant by intrinsically wrong or right
is the idea that some actions are just wrong or right regardless of
their consequences. For an example, acts like murder and rape are
just wrong even if it means committing them would save fifty people
from burning. This is precisely what utilitarianism rejects. Does
anyone see a problem with this?”

No one
responded. I glanced over at Courtney who was frantically taking
down notes and evaluating them, a frown of concern on her face.

“Courtney?” the
lecturer called.

She hesitantly
shook her head and mumbled something. Then replied, “No.”

“Okay. I guess
everyone gets it.” the lecturer giggled. He walked over to the
pulpit, gazed over his notes and said, “Well, imagine this. You are
walking past a dam and you see a child drowning and you are in such
a position that you can save the child. You are not particularly in
hurry or anything, you just happened to take a walk and this
happens. What do you think would be the right thing to do?”

“To help,”
couple of students blurted.

“Why?”

The classroom
was silent for a second then a student from the back raised her
hand.

The lecturer
pointed. “You.”

“Um…because you
are saving a child’s life?” she said.

The lecturer
nodded his eyes on the floor. “Yeah, because saving person’s life
leads to more happiness. The utilitarian would give a reason like
that while people who believe in intrinsically wrong and bad
actions might just say because to help someone is a good thing. Do
you see the difference in those two reasons? Helping someone is
only good to the utilitarian because it brings about more happiness
while on the other view the act is good because it is a
good
act no matter what happens as a result.”

Does that
mean if the act was murder the utilitarian would deem it fine as
long as it increases happiness?
I thought.

Courtney raised
her hand.

“Courtney.”

Her raspy voice
yanked me from the valleys of my mind and into the moment. “So what
this means is that you can substitute the action in this example
with any repulsive action and it would still be deemed correct
because of the results?”

The lecturer
nodded. “Yes, that is what it means. You’re right.”

And the mental
affair between our two souls began, alive and enrapturing as
ever.

They had been
waiting for me, set aside a chair for me completing the triangle
formation. Having just walked in I was not in the mood for a little
conclave. I conveyed my unwillingness by shuffling over to my
designated chair and dropped my bag on the wooden floor. Took every
opportunity to show my enervated state in my actions, breathing,
posture and facial expression. Macxermillio was not discouraged a
bit by my display of unwillingness.

“Look, guys,” I
suspired, “I’m a bit doped. Can we –“

“What the fuck
happened?” Macfearson interrupted.

I sighed,
clearly reluctant to explain, slightly because of the difficulty I
sensed would come with putting some words together.

“Do you find
yourself troubled by the philosophy lesson today? I know it can be
a tight noose,” Macxermillio said.

“It’s not
that.” I glanced at Macfearson. “Fearson did you kick Jay’s
ass?”

He shook his
head. “Nah, that’s part of the reason we should have this meeting
now. We think enough time has passed since the last sampling to
take on the next one.”

Macxermillio
added. “The town has quieted. Does not seem to have gathered a lot
of information regarding the disappearances. The whole thing has
spun into senseless sensationalism that nobody cares about from
some student newspaper and nothing major. The one that everybody
always makes fun off?”

“You mean The
Active?”

“Yeah, that
one. Nobody is taking it seriously and everybody is circulating
memes on the internet about The Active’s speculative article about
the missing students which was not even close to the number we have
nabbed. This means we have been extremely careful, having devised a
new technique I think it is time for our next sample. Maybe our
last before all of this catches fire.” Macxermillio paused. And
later added, “This time it must work.”

“You know I
have been thinking about this a lot,” Macfearson said, wagging his
index finger. “I mean the reason for these experiments is to avoid
going to heaven or hell or staying in this
calling
haunted
world. It is so that we end up at
the crop
where we truly
belong.” He paused.

The calling, an
unfathomable being like time, everybody had an idea of what it was
but they were never quite sure what it entailed. Not of this world
but interacting with this world. No telling if it was merely a deep
feeling of loss and homelessness inside us or the cause of that
feeling, whether it was an entity with the best of our interests at
heart or a force of this world designated to choke and drive us to
self-annihilation eventually cleansing this world of lunatics like
us. For most of our time we had known rejection and the unflinching
arms of acceptance and love the calling embraced us with where
suitably a subject of such doubt and scepticism. The calling had
one promise: Do as I say and all will be alright. Just a string of
words which never correlated to nothing tangible this far. Trust is
earned or promises are subjected to tests like any hypotheses.

“Yes, that is
the reason we study their eyes when they transition,” Macxermillio
said.

Transition was
just another euphuism for dying.

“What if there
is nothing wrong with how they transition. That we are missing an
element. I propose this element is not control over their state of
mind but a control on the state of their soul,” Macfearson
said.

“This means
what?”

Macfearson
hesitated. “I was thinking we lack an occult element. A ritual or a
sacrifice of sorts. Something to manipulate the transition process.
Then if it works we could use it on ourselves.”

Macxermillio
shook his head. “No, we can’t mess with the unruly forces and
spirits and shit. Don’t wanna find myself in a situation I can’t
get myself out of. The occult are extremely dangerous it might
require us to even add a stranger to our team, someone we can
trust. Who even knows if
deathling
blood is very precious
and on crazy demand for those occult
lifelings?
Let’s keep
things within our vicinity where we can control it and remain safe
and discreet. I hear you can’t even read an occult writing without
inviting some spirits. We already have enough on our plate with the
weight of the calling on our backs. That is as much as we can
handle now.” Macxermillio paused and shifted in his seat. “It’s too
much of a risk. Too demanding and not dependable.”

Macfearson
grimaced. “You have thought of doing this before?”

Macxermillio
looked away a degree. “Someone I knew tried. Let’s just say
that.”

“What happened
to him?” I asked.

He sighed. “Men
came in the middle of the night where he slept. They dragged him
out to the graveyard. Whipped him, flayed him and drained his body
of blood. They took his soul too. Only these things weren’t men but
spirits summoned upon him by studying the occult arts.”

“Was he one of
us?”

“I was too
young to tell.”

Macfearson
nodded.

“Now, as I was
saying we are ready for our next sample. This time I think we
should strike close by. Three doors down from here and end the
reign of Jay. His been a jerk to you and everybody else. People
would be relieved his gone and we will be happy we got to break
him. And when alarms start going off that students have been
disappearing hopefully we will have our hands off.” Macxermillio
turned my way with command and control, “We need you to have your
lunch on the same table as him and his cronies. Find out what they
have planned for the weekend.”

I sighed. “You
mean I should watch him until he goes to the dining hall and then
go to eat,” I complained. “I’m already starving, Mac. What if he
goes there after an hour and half because he has a lecture or
something? Can’t we do it tomorrow? It’s only Thursday
tomorrow.”

Macfearson
intercepted. “We need time to prepare and gather resources.”

“Why are you so
cranky though?”

I kept quiet
for a moment, rubbing my neck. “It’s Courtney, Mac.”

“Courtney?” He
leaned forward. “What happened? You finally spoke to her?”

“I tried. My
words died in my mouth. I felt like such a fool.”

Macfearson
laughed.

I continued.
“She waited on me to say something but I was stuttering like I
never had before. Then that pretentious class rep bitch interrupted
us and ruined the whole thing. She chatted to Courtney and
basically blocked me.”

“At least she
gave you the chance to escape,” mocked Macfearson.

“Why now
though?” asked Macxermillio.

“It just felt
like the right moment to talk to her. She had remained an enigma
for far too long. It felt right.”

“Next time I
guess.”

“How will I
face her tomorrow? I feel so embarrassed now. She knows I’m that
weirdo guy who tried to talk to her. I don’t know what to do.” I
jumped up and threw my self onto the bed burying my face into the
pillow. “I don’t wanna deal with anything right now I feel like
such a loser.”

“What?” they
asked, having heard nothing but muffled ramblings.

I shifted my
head to the side. “I feel like such a loser. I feel quite sick
actually. Hope I haven’t ruined the little thing we had by being
such a freak. I was basically choking for about twenty seconds in
front of her my mouth gaped like a…”

“Like a?” asked
Macxermillio, amused.

“I don’t know!
I don’t even know what I was gonna talk about or do. I wonder what
she is thinking of me now.”

“If she is a
petty
lifeling
who cares?” said Macfearson.

“No, she could
be more than that. She is quite unique.” I paused. “I don’t know
how to explain it.”

“It sounds like
you ruined it with your dirty cursed hands. You are not meant to be
loved or liked by any of those folks. They look at you and they
just see waste. They don’t care about you. They would rather have
you stay away than come near them. I’m sure you saw the disgust in
her eye when you approached her. She might have signalled for the
girl to block you away. She does not want you. Maybe you were wrong
thinking there is any hope for companionship in this piss of a
world. Isn’t she part of the very fabric that is so intolerant and
coarse on our souls? She blends easily doesn’t she?” spoke
Macfearson.