Furies- Thus Spoke
Page 15
Leo listens with rapt attention.
"Most of our patients say it feels like being immersed in thick, warm molasses when the unlocking process starts, much like drifting off to sleep." Charles smooths his hands out over the air as he speaks. "Afterward, you'll likely feel like you've heard the best news of your life. I say likely because it's different for everyone, but that's the general frame of mind our patients report."
"Are there any side effects?"
Anita shakes her head. "Only unbridled joy." She grins, giving him a preview. "Since the effect of our ability only lasts about a month, what we encourage our patients to do is ruminate on what brought them to us in the first place. While we can bring you the peace you desire, we can't completely eliminate the root cause of your discontent. By concentrating on what's blocking you from experiencing your own joy, you're actually able to change the way your brain responds to those thoughts, the chemical concoction brought about by that frame of mind. When the effect of our ability wears off, you'll feel and think differently about your psychological obstacles."
"A bit like the effects of MDMA or psilocybin when used on people who suffer from PTSD."
Charles casts his gaze to the side, considers. "Yes, actually. That's a perfect way of putting it."
Leo rolls his lips over his teeth, mulls over the torrent of possibilities, thoughts, and impossibilities tumbling and thundering through his skull.
"Take as long as you need to think things over." Anita's voice snips his rushing stream of consciousness. "While we realize how fantastic this all sounds, we also recognize the fact that it's a monumental decision."
What she doesn't know is that Leo has already made up his mind; he's going under the mental knife. He's going to let the Johnsons help him find his ever-elusive jubilation and invite it (or drag it) into his reality by any means necessary. Or unnecessary.
Leo's going to find out what it's like to vomit rainbows and sunshine every time he opens his mouth.
EPISODE FIVE: Juxta-
Adam opens the doors of the abandoned church, casting it in a shroud of glittering sunlight. He flicks on a light switch and the house of worship is blanketed in a weak, winking glow that quickly stabilizes.
Bisset follows behind him, nose curled. “Why here?”
“I wanted to conduct our sessions in a private place, but still in the presence of the Lord.” He goes over to a massive overturned pew and uprights it with barely a flexed muscle. He does the same to another and rearranges the two so that they are facing one another. He wipes off enough dust for them to sit.
Bisset parts her lips with a small ah sound. Her expression fractures into a sullen one.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, it’s just...”
“The Dragoness?”
She shakes her head. “Seraph. She can be a bit forceful when she wants to.”
“Can you tell me what she’s saying?”
“She can speak to you through me, if you want.”
“Really? It doesn’t hurt you or anything?”
Bisset shakes her head.
Adam nods. “Okay, then, but only if you’re sure you want to.”
“Anything to help me with this.” Her body goes still, her eyes empty before their brown edges are traced with a golden outline. A smile blossoms on Bisset’s face...on Seraph’s face. “Hello, Adam. It’s a pleasure to meet the owner of this magnificent light I’ve felt. God is quite pleased with you.”
A little smile caresses his lips. “You’ve talked with God, Seraph?”
She laughs and he shivers in its wake.
“God talks to all of us, but most simply choose not to listen.”
His head hangs. She reaches forward and grabs his hand. “Talk to me, Adam.”
He licks his lips, sliding forward in his seat. “We’re trying to bring back God’s word, the followers of the Apostolic faith and I. God’s teachings have been broken apart and distorted; taken in by some denominations and denounced by others. I want to bring all of His children back to Him and show Alpha-Omegas that they are part of this world, but not of it. They need to know that they’re soldiers in the army of the Lord.”
Seraph squeezes his hand. “I’ve felt your light for a while, Adam, it’s one that almost rivals that of the angels.” She shakes her head a bit. “But from what little Bisset and I understand of them, I’m not sure Alpha-Omegas are part of God’s plan for this world.”
Adam’s head rocks back, hand slipping from her touch. “Why do you say that?”
“Their fantastic powers do seem like gifts from On High, but that isn’t to suggest that they’re divine vessels...like you and Bisset.”
“But I believe they are. They’re simply lost children who need help finding their way, like Bisset. Mankind has slowly averted their eyes from God, but they still feel His power in their souls.” He pats a palm to his chest. “They might not acknowledge what is it, but they feel it.” He is silent for a moment. “I believe that I and people like me are meant to do great, marvelous things together in the name of the Lord.”
“Instruments of the Most High.”
“Put on this Earth to gather a symphony, and God shall be our conductor.” He hesitates away for a second. “May I...may I ask you something?”
“Certainly.”
“Why did you choose to inhabit this body?”
“I’m honestly not sure that I did. Maybe Bisset choose me, whether she wants to admit it or not.”
“It seems as though great things always happen to the most ordinary people. Why do you think that is?”
“Those who think they have purpose in their life are often blinded by their final destination. But those who have no corporeal goal are often able to see the web for the weavings, the small intricacies that bring everything together. Your faith in your fellow man and in God is unshakable. I have a feeling that you haven’t even begun to explore what God has planned for you.”
Adam’s mouth suddenly goes dry and his expression falters.
“What is it?”
“God doesn’t want me to have a child.” His chest rises and falls as he takes shallow breaths. “When I first found out that I was blessed to be the Sovereign of God, almost immediately I knew that I was supposed to pass on this blessing to my child to lead the next generation. But I just found out last week that my...that I can’t...that it will be nearly impossible for Maggie and I to have a child.”
“Your not being able to procreate right now isn’t as monumental as you might believe. Things change, Adam. You know that just as well as I.”
His eyes plead. “But I wanted to give Maggie a son or a daughter, a beautiful baby that we created together. One of the things she’s wanted most in life is a child.” A helpless shrug. “And I can’t give her that.”
“But you can give her so much more. You can give her your love, your trust, your loyalty. You may not be able to have a child of the flesh, but you can have one of the spirit.” She lightly touches him below the collarbone. “What’s the use of dwelling on what you can’t give her? It only weakens your love and your light.”
Adam nods. “You’re right.” He lifts his head and his lips along with it. “It’s nice to be able to talk to someone else about all this, someone who knows what I’m going through.”
“You feel you can’t talk with Maggie or your friends?”
It takes a moment for him to respond. “I really don’t have any friends outside of church. As far as Maggie, I used to feel like I could talk to her about anything and everything.”
Bisset dips her head to the side a bit. “What changed?”
His eyes meet hers. “I became Sovereign, and now I’m not human the way she is anymore. I feel like I’ve gained just as much as I’ve lost.”
“Or maybe God is just making room in your life for the blessings he’s about to shower you with.”
The words seem to seep and steep into his soul, coloring it with clarity and brightening his expression.
/> Bisset grins. “Look at us. You’re supposed to be helping Bisset and here I am consoling you.” She rubs the back of his hand.
“Maybe you can help me cast this demon out of Bisset.”
The angel’s smile weakens. “The more I understand of her, the less I think of The Dragoness as a normal demon.” She rolls her shoulders a bit. “But I’ll do anything that I can to help Bisset.”
A frame is suspended in mid-air, covered in a shimmering silver-blue glow.
“A little higher to the left.”
The frame bobs higher and glides smoothly to the left.
“Now, the artist asked that it be tilted just slightly to the right.”
The frame dips slightly to the right, resting on the small hooks embedded in the wall.
“Perfect.”
Leo lowers his hand and the glow slides down the frame as he dissolves the force field. He studies the myriad of colors, shades, and multi-faceted hues splashed and dashed on the crooked canvas as he walks over to Marlon. “What is this all about again?”
“The DC Art Museum is hostin’ a show here. Local and nationwide artists reveal their depictions of Alpha-Omegas.” He takes in the various art selections decorating the walls of building. “They’re calling it Apocalyptic-Origin.” His eyes pause and take in the sculpture of a horrific demon with the white wings of an angel and the hands and feet of a human with a grotesque twisted phallus dangling between its legs. There is no face.
“I never really got into art.” Leo cants his head, scrunching his eyebrows together.
“That’s probably cuz you use the other side of your brain.”
“You mean the logical side?”
The other man shrugs. “Some of these artists may think it’s illogical to shove your eyes into a microscope every day.”
Leo scoffs. “Hasn’t been every day lately.”
“Still ain’t found work yet?”
“Nope.”
“Real sorry to hear that.” A smile peels on Marlon face. “Either way, I sure ’preciate you givin’ us a helpin’ hand these past coupla days.” He turns and walks into the small kitchen.
“Just trying to keep myself busy. Francie hasn’t said anything, but I know she gets tired of seeing me on the couch with a biochem book every time she comes home.”
“Least you ain’t glued to the TV, mess will corrode your brain.” He peels open the fridge door and takes out two bottles of water, passing one to Leo.
“Thanks.” He twists the cap open and swigs.
Marlon lowers the bottle and wipes at his mouth. “You know, the curator of the DCAM said somethin’ ‘bout needin’ some help. Could be just right for you.”
Leo frowns at him after a sip. “I just told you I never really got into art.”
“Yeah, an’ you also just told me you ain’t found work yet. I wish I could pay you for the work you do here, but our budget is pretty stringent. I’ve got Addie’s number, you want it or not?”
Leo sighs, swallows.
He reaches into the side pocket of his khakis for his phone.
Excerpt from Lamar Koehler Live:
“Good evening, America, and thank you for joining me for another episode of Lamar Koehler Live. I’m your host, Lamar Koehler.
“Tonight, I’m joined by a family that upon first glance looks very normal, very mundane. But the Johnsons are anything but that. In actuality, the Johnsons are a family of Alpha-Omegas who share an ability. Please join me in welcoming Charles Johnson, his wife, Anita, and their children, Miguel and Annabelle. Welcome to the show, everyone.”
“Thank you, Lamar. How are you?”
“I’m very well, thrilled to have such wonderful guests joining me tonight. Now, Charles, your family has been in and out of the media in the last few weeks, and that has got to be a hassle for all of you.”
“Oh, it is. But we’re slowly getting used to having people photograph us and ask us questions when we’re out and about in public. But one upside to the exposure is that it’s actually helped us and our small family business based in Dominion City.”
“Could you explain to us what your business is?”
“Sure. What my family and I do is we make people happy. Literally. We’ve recently discovered that we each share an active A-O gene that allows us to take away a person’s inhibitions that block them from achieving their dreams and allowing themselves to be truly happy.”
“Anita, how did you and your family discover this ability? I know you said earlier before the show that it only works when all four of you are in physical contact.”
“It’s a bit of an odd story, actually, but it usually is when you’re talking about A-Os. Ah, we were all gathered for family dinner and Miguel had invited his friend, Cristobal, over to join us. Cristobal was having some family problems, so we wanted to get him out of that environment and take his mind off of things. We all joined hands for prayer and Cristobal was sitting between Miguel and Annabelle. While Charles was saying grace, Cristobal clutched Miguel and Annabelle’s hand to his chest, and the only thing that I can think of is that their hands must have brushed together which...activated our gene. There was this flow that went through all four of us, and I could actually feel that flow go into Cristobal.”
“How did it feel?”
“It felt like...like light, and happiness, and...purity. It’s hard to describe, really. After that, Cristobal just couldn’t seem to stop smiling all throughout dinner. He was laughing and just being a kid, something we hadn’t seen him do since we’d met him. It was the best feeling in the world, for him and for us.”
“And that’s when you decided to make spreading happiness the family business?”
“Well, that came a bit later. We all sat down and talked about what happened with Cristobal and eventually realized that this gift only manifested when all four of us are together.”
“Fascinating. I know that since you’ve started the Johnson Family Boundless Joy Clinic, your lives have changed drastically, and not just with the exposure. Miguel, you actually bought your first car in full with your own money, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it wasn’t just some used bucket of bolts! This was a top of the line car, a BMW.”
“Right.”
“Wow. And Annabelle, you bought prom dresses for every girl in your class?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“You did an excellent job of raising these two, mom and dad.”
“Thank you, Lamar. We’re just glad that all of this attention hasn’t gone to their heads. We’ve always stressed to Annabelle and Miguel that they’re no better than anyone else, and now that they’ve become public figures, it’s even more important for them to remember that.”
“I have to ask, how do you feel about charging people for happiness?”
“Charles was a licensed clinical therapist before his partners decided to shut down the practice. We feel charging our clients is no different than a therapist charging a client to help improve his or her life.”
“And it’s not as if we’re charging some outrageous fee. The effect of what we do lasts about a month or so before a person needs to decide whether to come back for another treatment.”
“I see. Have you heard the latest news reports about you?”
“What news reports are you referring to, Lamar?”
“Do we have the repo—We do? Can we put that on the screen, please? Thank you. According to multiple news sources, several of your former patients are now in the psychiatric ward or have committed suicide after receiving treatments from you. One woman actually died with a smile on her face. The wife of a former patient of yours is claiming that her husband nearly crushed her to death with a hug after returning from a session with you. Do you have anything to say about this?”
“...Where did you get these?”
“From multiple news sources. You can check them if you like, they’re perfectly legitimate. Do you have anything to say about these accusations?”
/>
“We’re finished here. Come on, let’s go.”
“Thank you for joining us. That was the Johnson family, ladies and gentlemen. Spreading happiness with just a touch. We’ll be right back.”
The Johnsons are on the TV. The TV is on mute. But their smiles and their laughter need no audio to convey their message. A camera quickly pans the live studio audience before swiveling back to the talk show hostess. Charles smooths his fingers across the back of Anita’s palms. Anita absently runs a hand through Miguel’s shaggy hair. Annabelle crosses her legs and smiles at no one in particular.
But no one in the drug den pays any attention to the muted television set. They are too busy weighing out kilos, sampling the product, and calling to confirm meets and negotiate sales.
“An’ I tol’ you dat you ain’t even gettin’ another abe until you pay me my money.” The man with an orange bandana wrapped around his forehead scratches his thigh with the barrel of his gun. “Hit up the towers on Sherman.” He sniffs and paces across the torn tiled floor. “In Mercurmont, you dumb mothafucka! Fuck, no wonder you punk ass bitches can’t sling this shit right, you don’t even know where to peddle your shit.” He stops, raises the large gun to the phone. “’Ey yo, you got one mo’ time to call me a wigga before I blow you and your bitch crew’s heads off. You feel dat?” He lowers the gun. “A’ight. You got twenty-four hours to brin’ me my money or I’m comin’ after you.” He whips the gun forth and back. “Naw, betta yet, I’m comin’ after your fam. Make your moms suck my dick before I put a load an’ a bullet down her throat. Believe dat.” He hangs up before lighting up a cigarette.
“Beedrow and his crew givin’ you the run around?” The man in the tight tank top slouches on the couch. His red-glazed eyes follow the man with the bandana as he starts pacing.
“As fuckin’ usual. Gave ‘em a week to sling that package. A whole week!” He whirls suddenly and angrily extends the arm holding the gun, muscles quivering. “I keep givin’ these fuckas chance after chance after chance to prove ‘emselves and I wind up takin’ it up the ass like some lil’ bitch. Ain’t havin’ dat, man.”