His Glory Is Enddeath
"I greet you all this morning by the grace of the Demiurge," said the Turnkey, "oh, you prisoners of His immaculate psyche, come and wash the stains from your fleshcage that we may commune once again with Him. I would like you all to join with me today in seeing one of the many occluded truths of our Gaud-over-gauds, the one true Demiurge, fashioner of our psyches, forger of our holy bondage. Oh my dear inmates, though our eyes cannot see truth, only the shackles and bars of this world, we can be given His Gnosis through the words passed down in the great Chain. I, your humble Turnkey, teach you as I was taught by my Captain of the Guard; as he was taught by his Associate Warden; as he was taught by his holiness the Pope, Warden of the Solar System, the Humble Demigaud. Listen and be enlightened by the words of the all destroying voice of our Gaud-over-gauds, compressed into human speech."
Sage shifted in her seat. This vomit of "shackle-speak," as hnk.prisonbreak:666[rez], the preeminent indranet site for former believers called it, was so typical as to come across as completely insincere. She had always suspected that at a certain point in the hierarchy of the church she grew up in, no one really bought into any of it. Currents were the motive, she suspected, for all higher up church activity. After all, the Prisoners of the Demiurge were among the top five wealthiest organizations in the Solar System, and out of those organizations, the Prisoners were the only church.
"Turn please, my charges, to page 288 in your Book of Black Iron, Link #01440, and repeat along with me."
Sage groaned the most stifled and silent groan, but her mother glanced just the quickest little sidelong glance at her.
The entire Cellflock, Sage begrudgingly included, repeated along with the Turnkey, "On the Day of Release, all those who turned themselves in to the Demiurge, who served their Sentence as model prisoners, shall be set free into loving communion with the Him in His Celestial Freegarden. But those fools who pretended at being free here in this prison shall be cast out into the Maw. For the only Sentence fitting those who refuse submission to His glory is Enddeath."
Disgusting, thought Sage. Another, ever so slightly longer sidelong glance from her mother pinged the corner of the daughter's vision. Sage was certain she hadn't said it out loud. Still, she squirmed slightly at whatever real or imagined disapproval Saffron Seer was pointing at her.
"But what does it mean to serve your Sentence as our Fatherjailer intends? How is it, my charges, that we can be the model prisoners we desire to be? I needn't I remind you of Link #00001. I needn't remind you that every moment the debased, the," the Turnkey paused and glanced at Curry Seer, "illicit," both people in this exchange smiled knowingly, "rips at the fleshcage with hateful teeth. But I needn't remind you either of the next admonition in that first of all links: to fortify your cell. My charges, I say to you that you must be double-locked. You must be threefold chained. Oh the libertine life of the Nescient, may seem succulent, coitious, emissive," she stared down at the rostrum for a moment in seeming contemplation, though based on what she said next Sage wondered what thought could possibly have been needed to recite such rotes, "But the Nescient does not see that the tendrils of filth seep in through the cracks in their cage. They do not see their psyche becoming permanently stained. And a stained psyche, as Link #00015 teaches us, can never partake in the glory of oneness with the Holy Overwarden of Reality. My charges, none want to know the Maw, and all long to know the Demiurge. What are we, as inmates of His Holy Bridewell, the convicts of Penitentiary Earth, to do? How are we to live? Link #02002 tells us, 'The psyche who longs to be infinite in nature, to melt into the All-Psyche of His Perfectedness, shall hate the stain. And that stain is the very disorderliness that brought us to be ensnared in His cage in the first place. Only the prefect keeper of His Law shall see subsumption. Only the flesh fortified with Black Iron may pass its shining nut into the body of Eternity Himself," the Turnkey paused and looked out over everyone and repeated, "'Only the perfect keeper of His Law shall see subsumption. You will hear those Nescients on the news decry His Perfection, subtle as they may be to avoid... offending us. But their very psyches, I tell you, are offensive. They claim His Perfection to be the enemy of the good. I tell you truly, about this they are right."
Some utter dipshit in the crowd gasped quite audibly. The Turnkey smiled wide at this. Sage tried so hard not to roll her eyes that she rolled her head. There was a quick but quite noticeable look from her mother.
"'Oh Turnkey Hiss, Vanessa,' you may say, 'how can you speak such words?' Well, I tell you now that any 'good' that the Nescient world can devise is no 'good' at all. I tell you truly that no 'good' is 'good' at all. Even the idea of goodness is a myth made by Nescient fools. There is no good one among the masses. There is only the perfect keeper of His Law and the Nescient. Our Gaud, the only Gaud worthy of worship, nay, of even consideration, is the very Psyche of Perfection. The Demiurge is the Shaper of Reality of the Knower of All Psyches," Turnkey Hiss became more animated as she spoke, more forceful, until she was ramping up to a righteous yell, "When you allow even the smallest bit of the stain our Gaud put of the world to tempt us, the one we weak and inferior psyches turned toward in the First Life, necessitating our imprisonment and rehabilitation, past the fleshcage and into your psyche, you betray perfection for a second time, nevermind that you do not remember the first! Nevermind that you think you deserve a third chance! You! You imperfect one! You! Do! Not! Decide! Only His Holy Perfection is worth of any decision! None else! Khalliyugah!"
The chorus of "Khalliyugah"s boomed from the crowd. Sage wondered when the Prisoner's Mass had become such a... lively event. Though she couldn't pinpoint when, she knew it had not always been like this. On the prisonbreak site they said that the Prisoners of the Demiurge were beginning to see a slow down in new membership to the point of near stagnation. This could maybe have been why the once unfailingly traditional and ritualistic services had begun to take on more the air of the old Recrudescence era tent meetings. There was much clapping and cheering now, something you would rarely hear at a Prisoner's Mass back when Sage was a child. There was a fervor here that honestly somewhat scared her. Her mother was looking at her as if reading her thoughts. She looked over to Saffron Seer and gave the most genuine smile she could muster. In trying to avoid looking directly in her mother's eyes, she saw Curry on the other side of her standing and clapping and smiling broadly at Turnkey Hiss. Cory tugged Sage's sleeve on the other side.
"We need pizza after today, remember?" Cory whispered in his sister's ear.
In the Triangle
The family of four sat at The Falconer, the most famous pizzeria in Persephone, at the request of Sage on behalf of Cory. It was Sage's day to choose where they ate after attending Prisoner's Assembly, but she had been looking for some back-up from Cory on the conversation she knew was coming. She felt almost personally guilty that he had not had the forethought to negotiate for a bigger prize, but then again Cory was probably only bothering to exact a price for formal reasons. They were not the type of siblings who undermined each other with the parental units.
The conversation did come, though it took longer to start than Sage had expected. They were finishing the remnants of an extra large pie when Curry Seer began it.
Operating a cloth napkin with both hands in the manner of the extensive etiquette training he received as a child, Curry cleaned the edges of his mouth delicately before saying, "Sage, dear, have you given much consideration to the question of your Burgeonence Celebration?"
Sage shifted in her seat.
"it's coming up sooner than you think," said Curry, "there ought to be a plan in place."
"You only get one," Saffron said, her smile tinged with just a sprinkling of pleading.
Sage was silent for a moment, stealing herself while trying not to seem like she was stealing herself. Finally she said, "I was hoping," she paused, "I was hoping that we would just do the ceremony and I could go over to Theodicy's after."
"it's typical, you know," said Curry, "to have at least a reception after the fact."
Sage knew her father's concern was propriety. She knew he would be steadfast in this.
"And besides, people will want to celebrate with you. You only turn twenty-three once. You only become an adult once."
Sage was less certain of her mother's concern in all of this. Of course, Saffron liked to back up Curry when he wasn't being completely unreasonable. But Sage could feel more bellow the surface that she couldn't quite see or touch. Her mother had some other motivation. She would be the harder nut to crack.
Cory looked at Sage for a hint as to whether it was time for him to make the preplanned interjection. Sage feared it might be too early, but was also afraid of Cory getting distracted, and so shifted her eyes but not her face toward Curry and quickly back to look at Cory.
"Jaxon's brother did his ceremony and reception for his Burgeonence at the Persephone Commons. His mom said like 'cheap but formal.'"
Sage was sure that her brother would be an actor one day. The cadence of his voice and his word choice were so natural for him, perfectly disinterested, said between bites, and yet the content of what he said was entirely prearranged. It probably helped that nothing he was saying was a lie. Cory's friend Jaxon did have an older brother who had done his full Burgeonence Celebration with Persephone Commons. It was true that they we're very professional and proper in the performance of the ceremony. It was also true that they were probably the least expensive place in Persephone to do it. There was a third truth, that they did so many Burgeonences and indeed so many events in a day that they would do the whole ceremony and reception very quickly without making anyone feel rushed. They were professionals in that way as well. Sage had actually been invited to the Burgeonence for Myron, that's Jaxon's older brother. Sage wasn't really friends with Myron, the mother just invited everyone in Myron's year at Normative to impress the family flying in from abroad with how popular Myron was. It was the shortest Burgeonence Sage had ever attended, straight through to the reception.
Curry looked as if he was turning it over in his mind. Persephone Commons, while not as prestigious in the minds of the people whose judgment Curry feared as say St. Jeremy's, the Penitentiary Cathedral where they attended assembly, but it would certainly not be offensive to their sensibilities. It would also certainly put less strain on the family's meager savings. Sage knew he would be considering these things. She knew he would be in the triangle here.
Saffron spoke up, "It seems a little bland... a little ho-hum for such an important right of passage," she looked directly at Sage, "For the right of passage."
"Nonsense, dear," said Curry, "Persephone Commons is quite lovely."
Sage was actually a bit surprised at how well her gambit had worked on her father. Something she hadn't calculated in her plan had actually made it work better. She knew her mother would be the wildcard. Whatever motivated her was unclear, but she certainly seemed to have her own ideas about Sage's Burgeonence.
Saffron looked directly at Sage again, "It should be a special day," she said softly.
Sage wanted to tell her mother how much she didn't care about any aspect of Burgeonence other than the part where she was free to make her own decisions about life going forward. She wanted the pomp and circumstance dispensed with quickly so she could go celebrate her freedom with the one person who understood. But it was at a minimum clear that Saffron Seer thought there was some very important reason why Sage should feel differently. It was, though a minor issue in the end, one of the most frustrating Ontological problems Sage had wrestled with if the truth be told. Even though at the completion of the ceremony, her parents had no power whatsoever to veto her life decisions, they still held all the power before the completion. This meant that all decisions about how she "became an adult" belonged solely to her parents in the end. While she was not foolish enough to question why in law there needed to be a very clear and also ultimately totally arbitrary line, or why in law it might be best to allow parents to make decisions for their children, it could not help but fill her with silent rage that a formality kept her in chains. It was such a minor inconvenience really, but she wanted nothing to do with this boring stupid ceremony and then of course did not want to celebrate it afterward, to celebrate a ceremony she thought was pointless with people she didn't care about, when the stupid ceremony had finally made her free to not do stupid things she didn't stupid want to do.
"I'm cool with Persephone Commons," is what Sage finally said, and turning to her mom, "It's nice there."
"That seems settled to me," said Curry with a soft but serious look at Saffron.
A beat and then, "Alright," said Saffron, not exactly throwing up her hands, but raising them gingerly in surrender.
The Clown with the Wry Smile
I must take you now away from Sage Seer for a moment. We must leave the city of Persephone, the province of Helvetica, the the nation of Atlantica. Imagine we are floating up into the atmosphere of this planet Earth. We pirouette past clouds, up, up, up. Then we glide, at first slowly and gracefully... and then we accelerate. Faster and faster we rocket toward our destination, so fast that if I did not tell you, you would have no way of making out even the direction we travel, let alone mark the shape of the ground bellow. But that direction is south. We have made our way to the icy depths of Antarctica. There is a place here we must visit, because something of interest to us happened in this place, at this point in the story. Something happened in the ruins of the ancient city of Xanobast at just the same time as our dear Sage was securing her preferred place of Bergeonence.
In the husk of a building dormant for millions of years, but for the slight comings and goings of archaeologists, a building of no special significance in the culture or the arcane technologies of the once ubiquitous Yeti, possibly the best known and also one of the most mysterious species of the extinct portion of the eldroids, stood two beings, apparently humanoid, far from the prying eyes of even the most dedicated inquisitors, or the most inquisitive occult scientists. No one was watching them; no one paying attention to what they were doing. Except me, that is... no one but me was watching them. But they didn't know I was watching. Not even the one with the heightened awareness. So we can safely leave me out of this scene any more than I have already intruded.
"Why am I here?" asked the Clown.
"Astrid, I have something I need you and your friends to do. It's going to be awhile, but it's important. When I look, from that other vantage point, it seems fairly likely we are on this path and not one of the others. On this path I think we are on there is a certain place I need you and your friends to be at a certain time. I need... well I need for you to give someone a ride."
"You called me here to ask me to give someone a ride? Oh but not now in the future. For someone who always seems in a hurry, you sure don't seem to have a problem wasting other people's time."
"Astrid, please, you know that I only call when things are important. I'm almost always better off not having contact, and there is always so much to do. Now is the time I have to tell you because... well no 'because,' now is just the time I have to tell you. This is when it happens."
"Do you have to be so cryptic? I love a good mystery, but I decided long ago that you're unsolvable."
"I'm not being cryptic, I am telling you in the most literal and straightforward way that I can: this is when this conversation happens, this is when I ask you. And I feel almost certain that you will do it, provided that were are moving in the direction where it's even possible for you to. There is no more to tell. Not because I don't want to. Not because I feel honor-bound somehow to keep things secret. Not because I am lacking in information. I'm not trying to hand you riddles. I am telling you the absolute truth. It is ever thus. This is the moment we have this conversation. Nothing at all ever changes that."
Astrid, the clown with the wry smile, sighed. She pondered this all a bit before deciding to speak again. "So okay, you want me to take in a stray. Got coordinates?"
"There's some noise in the signal of the original communiqué I sent. If you look closer you will see it's not actually noise. It peaks and valleys at too regular of an interval. Run it by your friend Izzy. I promise it will be able to decipher the coordinates I've embedded there. Just tell it the timing is 7/8."
"Okay, and the other question: do you have a name for me?"
"Her name? Her name is Sage Seer."