by Liam Fialkov
- New Testament, Hebrews 11
When Michael examined the different web sites that McPherson handed him, he realized that most sites were old, amateurish and rarely used.
However, one site drew his attention. It was obvious that it was professionally laid out, and tastefully and thoughtfully designed.
The site, which was peculiarly called His Time, was built to look like the Solomon's temple’s floor plan. It had several chambers, most of them were different forums that were open to the public. The exception was the Holy of Holies which required a password.
One chamber was a forum dedicated to the interpretations of old prophecies, especially from the book of revelation and the book of Daniel. In another chamber they were discussing scientific breakthroughs of Newton, another chamber dealt with general theological issues, and yet another chamber was dedicated to women’s issues. Somewhat hidden, Michael was surprised to find a chamber that discussed weapons and focused on explosives and ways to detonate and bring down large structures.
Sitting comfortably at the computer in his home, lurking into the chambers, Michael used the alias ‘Angel Mikhael,’ thus keeping a similar scheme as other participants. After a short period of lurking, he decided to make his presence known, so every once in a while, he asked questions, and contributed to live discussions.
He found that while some participants were clearly novices, like him, others were quite knowledgeable and a few were quite experts in everything that had to do with, Newton, the temple of Solomon, and old prophecies.
One time, he participated in a live forum hosted by a person identified as ‘Saint Miriam.’ Michael liked her forums because they were informative, and used a clear language, without drifting into a pretentious jargon and unfamiliar terminology. This forum took place in a most central area of the temple’s floor plan, right outside the holy of holies.
Saint Miriam, took the time to patiently explain the significance and importance of the temple’s location. She cited from a Hebrew scripture called the Babylonian Talmud:
“The world is like a human eyeball. The white of the eye is the ocean surrounding the world, the iris is this continent, the pupil is Jerusalem, And the image in the pupil is the Holy Temple.
Michael asked permission to pose a question, and when granted, he typed.
Angel Mikhael: “I understand that we have the measurements of the Solomon’s temple, which are described in detail in the Bible. However, I find it hard to see that these measurements are somehow related to the universe or to our solar system.
Saint Miriam replied: “Thank you for a truly valuable question. However, I’d suggest that to get an answer to such a profound question, you should talk directly to the Ark Bishop. You can find him in the Holy of Holies.
Angel Mikhael: “I don’t have the password to the Holy of Holies?”
Saint Miriam: “You’d have to figure it out. Alternatively, you could wait, and he might contact you.”
Angel Mikhael: Thank you.
Saint Miriam: Last thing for today: The Ark Bishop is announcing that we are getting close to the momentous day. Very soon, those who are truly committed to the cause will be called to the land. The time for action is coming soon.
Chapter 10
Stop!!!
Where are you heading?
Are you following in the path of the lord?
“Oh, not again!” A frantic sigh echoed throughout the country as millions of computer users found themselves facing another freeze.
“Oh, no!” said drivers as traffic lights turned into a blinking yellow, which meant long traffic jams.
Once again, the computer screens displayed the message in a nicely, well designed way, and it was ornamented in the same way: with the Ark of the Covenant, which the frustrated users were in no mood to appreciate. Like in the previous event, the halt affected all the government branches and most of the private sector, which suffered an electrical power loss in addition to the computer freeze. It didn’t affect hospitals, control towers in airports, train lines, and anything that had to do with emergency life support.
This time, however, the halt was not limited to the United States, and it included Canada, most Western European countries, and Israel. It excluded China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea, which could have pointed to an intervention by an unfriendly foreign country.
Then, exactly after 13 minutes, the halt was lifted and everything went back to normal.
“What on earth was that?” The question was on everyone’s minds.
***
“It is outrageous!” The technical commentator on the TXB TV network accused. “Somebody is shutting us down and we don’t have a clue as to who’s behind it!?”
“I’m sure,” said the news anchorman, “that the authorities are doing their best to get to the bottom of this.
“Yes,” responded the commentator, “and in the meantime, our country is completely shut down and exposed to a foreign attack.”
“And what do you think of the suggested religious perspective which the computers’ message imply?” Asked the anchorman.
“I think it is completely irrelevant,” answered the commentator. “The fact is that somebody—a person, a group or a country—has the means of bringing this country to its knees, and we are literally groping in the dark. Do you realize that they could drag us back to the stone age without firing one bullet?”
Chapter 11
“Ark Bishop, ha?” Stewart McPherson asked, and frowned.
“That’s what she said,” Michael confirmed and cited, “Ark Bishop is announcing that we are getting close to the momentous day.” Michael was sitting across from McPherson, on the other side of the heavy wooden desk.
McPherson pushed his chair backward, rose from his seat and stepped over to the coffee machine.
“Coffee?” he asked Michael.
“No, thanks.”
McPherson then started pacing around the room, and seemed wrapped in thoughts.
“Hmm,” he mumbled. “The dots are starting to connect.” Michael wasn’t sure whether he was talking to him or to himself. He finally sat back in his chair, without the coffee.
“I’ve been following this man for some time regarding another investigation.” McPherson said. “Now, when you mentioned the name Bishop, I realized that it’s the same man. My assumption is that the two matters are not separate from one another.
“I thought,” Michael said, “that Ark Bishop was a nickname.”
“You may be right, but I don’t think so,” McPherson said. “If I’m correct, we are facing a man named Charles Bishop. “
“Sounds interesting,” Michael was curious.
“Let me tell you about the Charles Bishop,” McPherson said. “He was a soldier in the American army in Afghanistan and then Iraq. A few days before his scheduled return home, the squadron that he commanded stumbled upon an ambush, carefully planned by militant Shi’a, guerilla fighters. In the battle that ensued, Bishop demonstrated remarkable bravery, as he operated under intense enemy fire, striving and succeeding to save most of his men. He himself was badly injured, and for a few days the army doctors were fighting to save his life. He survived, though a bullet that got lodged in his spine rendered him paralyzed and unable to move his legs, so he is confined to a wheelchair. For his acts of bravery and composure under fire, he received the presidential medal of honor, as well as the purple heart medal.”
“Sadly,” Michael responded, “I don’t think that any medal could compensate for being disabled for the rest of your life.”
“Anyway,” McPherson continued, “Charles Bishop’s spirit remained strong, and he’d also found solace in religion. Encouraged by his pastor, he became a devout Christian.
“He went back to school and mastered computer programing. After just two years of studying, he left the university and founded a start-up company that specialized in digital security systems, antivirus, firewall, and the likes. Within just five years he sold his company for a
huge profit. His wealth is estimated at 1.3 billion dollars. Then he bought a huge ranch in a wooded Washington state remote location, where he is living today. I don’t know much about what’s going on inside the ranch, which is protected by electric barb wire, cameras, and possibly armed guards. Apparently, he is hiding something, otherwise what all this defense for?”
“Stewart,” Michael said, “do you think that Charles Bishop is the Ark Bishop?”
“I do,” McPherson answered, “but not just that. My investigation of him was in regard to something completely different, which now, I’m just starting to see that the two developments are interrelated.”
“So, what’s the other development?” Michael asked.
“Remember the two strange computer freezes and power failure that practically crippled the country recently?” McPherson asked.
“Of course,” Michael responded. He looked at McPherson who seemed quite pleased showing off his knowledge of the matter.
“Well,” McPherson said, “when I started suspecting that Bishop is behind those incidents, I didn’t have a lot to validate my suspicion on. It was more of a hunch. But you know, I’ve been in this business for many years, and I developed and learned to trust my intuition. I suspected Bishop primarily because I knew he had the means and the knowledge to pull such a thing off. At that point, I didn’t know the purpose of those computer freezes and the manipulation of our electrical power. I thought it could have been some kind of a prank, or some act of defiance. But now, as I’m talking to you, I’m starting to see the bigger picture.”
“I sure don’t see the bigger pictured.” Michael said, and once again he couldn’t but notice that McPherson was enjoying unravelling the mystery.
“For example,” McPherson said, “Both power halts had happened at exactly 1 P.M eastern time and lasted exactly Thirteen minutes.
“So?” Michael wondered.
“Think about it, Michael,” McPherson urged him. “By now you have the knowledge required to figure out why those specific times.”
“Stewart,” Michael was starting to get annoyed, feeling that McPherson was showing off his familiarity with the subject, always keeping him one step behind. “I don’t have the faintest idea,” Michael said.
“Well,” McPherson smiled. “The time was 1 P.M. which could be looked at as 12 hours plus 60 minutes. So, let’s look at it simply as 1260.
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.” Michael said, irritated.
“The halt lasted for 13 minutes,” McPherson continued. “Again, this could be looked at as 12 minutes and 60 seconds. One more time we get 1260.
“And?” Michael asked.
“Michael,” McPherson smiled affectionately at him. “We got 1260 twice. How much is 1260 times two?”
“2520?” Michael was amazed.
“Exactly,” McPherson said. “If we’re investigating these guys, we have to learn to think alike, and for them, these symbols might mean that they are on the right path.”
Chapter 12
Jerusalem – 1002 BC
Yerubaal spent the night in a cave he had known, where he used to play with his brother. He didn’t close his eyes the whole night, wondering if the God Baal will come to his aid. When he didn’t hear anything from the gods, he started having thoughts of heresy. Do the gods really exist? I have never really seen them. And if they exist, maybe they are less powerful than the God of the Hebrews? Yerubaal recalled a peculiar detail he once heard his father mentioned, that the Hebrews have only one God. “Not like us,” his father had said, “we have the Baal and the Ashtoreth, we have El and Oshra, we have Dagon, Sea, Moon, Death, Reshef, and Shahar, and of course we have Anat, the goddess of war; she will help us win our battles against our enemies.
Yerubaal considered running away, but where? The Hebrew soldiers might catch him, and then, they will probably kill him. He never went anywhere beyond the surrounding mountains, and his world was confined to his familiar village.
Shortly after dawn, he made his way back to his family. He felt as if walking against his will, not in control of his feet, dragged toward his demise. They ate breakfast, silently, noticing that the Hebrew soldiers were in no hurry to start their final assault. Maybe the prayers and sacrifices helped? Perhaps they will not have to sacrifice Yerubaal?
When the sun was already in mid-heaven, the Jebusites heard the sound of a trumpet from the Hebrews’ positions. They tensed. But only one of David’s soldiers was seen approaching their stands, and he was carrying and waving a flag.
The Jebusite archers raised and stretched their arches, preparing to meet the delegate with a shower of arrows, but the high priest signaled them to lower their weapons. “We’ll better listen to what he has to say,” he said.
The delegate walked toward the Jebusites and stopped about ten cubits from them.
“The great king David, who’s been glorified by God for eternity!” the messenger called, “is asking to meet with Araunah.”
Araunah was the richest man among the Jebusites. It was clear to him that the king wasn’t merely asking to talk to him, but it is an order he must not refuse. He dropped his sword, joined the delegate, and they walked together to the Hebrews’ stands.
***
Araunah was an important and authoritarian man in the Jebusite community, and he held a higher class’ status than Yerubaal’s parents.
To Yerubaal, he always seemed like a restrained and arrogant person.
Araunah returned from his meeting with the king after a long hour. On his back, he carried a small bag. Yerubaal had never seen him so happy and affectionate toward the people of the tribe.
“We’re saved, my brothers,” he called as he approached the Jebusites. “David, the great king, God will glorify him forever, does not want to destroy us!”
“So, what does he want?” called the high priest.
“He wants my threshing floor and the drinking stone, and I sold it to him for a lot of money.”
“You sold it?” the tribal people were astonished.
“Indeed, my dear brothers,” Araunah said. “I offered to give him the threshing floor for free, but he insisted on paying me fifty silver shekels. The sons of Israel believe that the drinking stone has a special significance for their religion.” Araunah then looked in the direction of Yerubaal, “and you, my young friend, you can expect to have a long life.”
Long life. At once, the nightmare ended. The world returned to pulsate as it always was. Yerubaal took a deep breath and then collapsed on the ground, overcome by uncontrolled sobbing. His parents rushed to embrace him.
“You, did it,” said his father with tears in his eyes. “you saved us.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Yerubaal claimed.
“One day you’ll understand that it was your loyalty that saved the life of the whole tribe,” his father insisted. “You could have run away, but you chose to stay and obey the will of the gods.”
His mother tightly embraced him. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sacrificing you was the hardest thing in my life. I’m not sure I could have gone through with it. I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Why does King David needs the threshing floor?” The high priest turned to Araunah.
“Here, the Israelites want to build a temple to their God,” Araunah said. “They also plan to change the name of our city, Jebus, but they don’t want to kill any of our people. Enough people had already been killed in the previous battles.
“And what name does he wants to give the city?” The high priest inquired.
“Yerushaleem,” Araunah said.
Chapter 13
“Come, let me buy you lunch,” McPherson said.
“They stepped out of the building into a warm summer day.
“I hope you don’t mind walking,” McPherson said.
“Not at all,” Michael replied, thinking that recently he hardly took the time to exercise.
The journalist led the way and Michael followed half
a step behind him. McPherson walk was brisk and Michael was gasping, finding it hard to keep the pace. The old man is in better shape than me, Michael realized that he let McPherson’s age and appearance mislead him into thinking that the journalist has gotten old.
They walked in silence for about Twenty minutes, when McPherson suddenly turned left into a small one-way street alley.
“I like taking walks,” McPherson said smiling, as Michael was trying to regain his breath. “It allows me time to think and get my plans in order.”
He then entered what looked like a small deli.
“Stewart!” happy to see him, the chubby old lady behind the counter was wearing an apron and her hair was wrapped with a handkerchief.
“You could have called, then I would prepare your favorites.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Helen,” McPherson said, “everything that you make is my favorite.”
“And who is the handsome young man?” Helen inquired.
“That’s Michael, of course,” McPherson replied. “Michael is the closest thing I would ever get to having a protégé.”
“Nice to meet you,” Michael nodded at Helen’s direction.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Helen said, “Stewart, you know where’s your table. Why don’t you take Michael over there?”
McPherson led Michael passed a curtain, to where there was a very small dining area with just three tables. No one else was there, so they had the place to themselves.
“How can anybody find this place?” Michael wondered.
“They don’t,” McPherson replied, “Helen’s business is mainly in catering. The restaurant area is for special customers.”
