by James Curcio
Dionysus stopped practicing the form. “If an opponent advances with force, yield by rolling around the perimeter of that advance. Retain contact, retain control. Your opponent winds up over-committed. If we match force with force, we lose.”
Loki stopped for a moment, at the apex of a push-up, and cocked his head in Dionysus' direction. “You like talking just to hear yourself speak, don't you?”
“And you like doing pushups while you smoke. Don't harsh my mellow. Reality is what we can get away with. We've dropped that rhetoric before, probably between essential oil rubdowns at Burning Man. But this isn't just goofy post-hippie bullshit. Let's consider the tactics of those that are likely to oppose us– OW.” Dionysus was stopped mid-rant by a speeding pebble.
Artemis laughed and reached for a larger stone. “Let's consider the tactics of shut the fuck up and get back to work.”
Another day, another show.
“Buckle your seat belts, boys!” Jesus yelled, an unlit joint flapping from her lips, as the wheels spun and a cloud of dust shot out the back.
Dionysus’ knuckles whitened on the seat beneath him, but he kept his mouth shut simply because he hadn’t seen Jesus so playful since before they’d been hospitalized. She was reckless when she was happy.
Deciding Jesus was probably best left alone in this mood, he turned his attention to Lilith. She was sitting across from him and sipping on cold green tea, gazing introspectively out the window. Amidst all the motion and noise around her, she seemed very still, even delicate. Of course she looked beautiful, she always did, but for once it wasn’t controlled and calculated.
Hopping across the cabin, he landed next to her roughly. Luckily the seats were well cushioned. He draped his arm over her shoulder.
She smiled, but didn’t turn towards him.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked.
“This is the point of no return,” she said cryptically.
“For the band?”
She shook her head, her bangs dancing across her forehead. “No. There are many paths we can take. Some bring us closer to ourselves. Some farther away. It’s rare that one of us stumbles on a path like this one. I can be completely what I am. I was at that crossroad, when I met you. Now we’ve taken that step, and there’s no turning back.”
He nibbled her ear. “Thank God.”
“Boys! Jesus.” She rubbed the back of his head affectionately. “Oh, this isn’t going to make any sense to you yet. We could have been like everyone else, but we would have never been able to become who we really are.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She finally turned towards him with a devilish smirk. “Just the way I like it.” She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him unexpectedly.
“Are you kissing my man?” Ariadne stood in front of them with her arms crossed, but couldn’t maintain the facade when they turned to her with expressions of mock shock.
“Yeah. Wanna fight?” Lilith asked.
In reply, Ariadne took a swing. Lilith caught it, and pulled her in for a kiss. Green tea splashed all over Dionysus’ lap.
“Want to finish this for me?” Lilith asked, handing him the mug. “I need to teach this girl how to fight. That was a terrible left hook.”
Dionysus got up to follow.
“Private lessons this time, sorry.”
Chapter Six
It was business-as-usual inside the studios of the Conservative News Network. In the minutes before they went on air, Melissa Allbright, their star talking-head of the hour, strutted around backstage yelling at her personal assistant (the coffee was cold, and too bitter), popping pills (Prozac 25 mg, Ultram 50mg, Adderall 10 mg, Xanax 1mg, Calcium 500mg), and throwing pencils at the audio tech (menopause was a bitch).
Despite all the medication, it wasn’t until the camera-man reached the silent two...one...of the countdown that Melissa smiled for the first time that day.
“Good morning. We have a special show for you today. The members of the controversial rock group Babylon have agreed to join us live via satellite. They have been blamed with a rash of domestic terror incidents. I’m going to get some straight answers out of them about this disturbing new trend. Lilith, Dionysus, Jesus, and Cody. Welcome to the show.” Melissa’s worn, makeup-caked face took up the screen. She seemed composed of equal parts botox and conservative indignation.
The feed showed the faces of the group seated inside the Behemoth. Jesus was putting on lipstick in her reflection on the camera, smearing it around a bit for effect.
“Happy to oblige,” Lilith said, smiling sweetly.
“I understand that you are entertainers. Shock rockers like Marilyn Manson have been scaring money out of audiences for years. But what you do is different. Don’t you feel any responsibility for the safety and security of your country?”
Dionysus jumped in. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at when you say ‘safety and security.’”
“Look. We are a country at war, and for you to spread your message of anarchy and sexual perversion – there are real stakes, here. We need to stand united in defense of freedom.”
“I think freedom is doing just fine without our support,” Dionysus said.
“I’m sure many of the viewers today would tell you to get out of our country, then.”
Dionysus nodded. “Well, I’m a musician, not a politician. It’s not my place to create public policy. But I am still entitled to an opinion, right?”
Melissa turned to camera 2. “The Concerned Christian Parents League has charged you with converting children to Paganism. They’ve accused you of sexual deviancy with minors. These accusations have teeth. We have managed to secure a video of your singer having sexual relations with a fan...”
A web-cam video played in the feed, partially blurred. It showed several seconds of Lilith and Amber’s bath-time.
“Yeah. I’m bisexual. Sorry you had to find out like this, Mom!” Lilith said, still wearing that girl-next-door smile. “By the way, if any of you want to see the full video without those annoying blurred areas, there’s a version available on our darknet site. WWW dot join my cult dot org.”
“No, that’s...” Melissa sputtered.
Lilith reached out towards the screen. “Thanks for talking with us, Melissa!” She cut the feed suddenly. For a moment there was just dead air. Melissa blinked in shock.
“Well, that was what we’ve come to expect from this sort of fairy-tale anarchist liberal agenda.”
“We’re out,” Camera one said, shaking his head and chuckling. A bunch of the guys around the studio were already using their mobile devices to hunt down that video.
Trevino was pacing back-stage with his cell phone to his ear. The coffee-inept PA, trying to be helpful, asked him “Did you find them?”
Trevino continued pacing for a moment. He stopped suddenly, and smashed his cell phone on the ground.
“Guess not.”
“And you just gave them a free ad spot on a national network. Can you at least rework it for other time-zones?”
Melissa frowned. “I hate that they made an ass out of me too, but that piece is going to be great for our ratings.”
Trevino stomped on his phone again one more time for effect and marched out of the room.
Loki sat at a workbench surrounded by electrical components and miscellaneous tools. His face was obscured by a Hazmat respirator and reflective goggles. A GLOC stuck out of his shoulder holster. A flag with Babylon’s symbol hung behind him.
“Welcome back, friends and neighbors! In previous episodes we’ve covered comms, tactical planning, ran some practice ops – now it is time for a little theory. And to help us with this, I’d like to introduce you to a little friend of mine.”
A sock puppet dressed as a jihadi and branding a miniature AK-47 popped up from below the bench.
“Hello, sock puppet jihadi, how are you today?” Loki asked.
“Fight t
hem in the streets! Death to the infidel!” it screamed in Loki’s falsetto.
“Just take a look at this poor bastard. He wants to get himself killed, and if he starts popping that thing off in public, he will. His fight stems from a basic misunderstanding of what a State is, what it’s designed to do.
“States are protective rackets. The Invisible Hand needs a visible fist. It keeps the streets clean enough to keep the cash flowing. Those nasty other guys, with the ugly flag or no flag at all, the State exists to murder them and their whole fucking tribe the moment they fuck with what’s yours.
“Pay your taxes, don’t dodge the draft, you get to walk the streets unarmed. Go around shooting people and blowing up police stations, you’ll get what you get.
“You don’t arm wrestle Leviathan, and you sure as Hell don’t come at him with a cap gun. Not more than once, not if you want to win.
“What you do is, you make him look like a bully and an idiot to his own people. You poke him into blind, violent over-reaction. You trap and confuse him, mock and bleed him. Money. Markets. Security. Identity. Legitimacy. These are your targets. Your every action should be considered to create the widest possible disruption with the least effort and the least violence. Leave Leviathan stomping his own people in idiot rage. Confiscate their bottled water while Rome burns. And when he hurts his own people, you’ll be there with a kind hand and a comfy couch. And your recruiting pitch.
“He’ll be blind, broke, and friendless, with blood on his hands. You’ll be alive to build your new world.”
“Cut,” Dionysus said.
“Hey, that was great,” Artemis said.
“I hope it doesn’t matter that it’s all bullshit,” Loki said, pulling off his goggles. He blinked, staring up at the ceiling. What the motherfuck were they doing?
The Behemoth huffed up to a derelict gas station in the middle of nowhere. Broken cars and tractors encircled the attached garage. Crickets, a pregnant moon.
Loki and Dionysus hopped out.
“I’ll pay. Fill her up,” Loki said.
“Sure.”
“Diesel, remember. I don’t much care what Derrida and Buddha have to say on the subject. I don’t want to drain and flush a fuel system tonight.”
Dionysus waved him off. He looked up to find a large spider repelling down from above. “Ugh.” Then he noticed that there were spider webs over everything. Legs wriggling, half in sight.
“The hell?”
Loki discovered that the attendant was a one eyed freak of nature in overalls. “Wut git you for?” it asked.
“We’re filling up the...uh.” He found himself staring at rows of half empty shelves with products hidden under a thick layer of dust.
The attendant scowled and gritted his misshapen teeth. “Huh?”
“Nevermind. Here’s money.” He slapped a small wad of bills on the counter.
“Huh?” the attendant asked, again.
“This is surreal,” Loki muttered to himself.
Loki made a beeline for the vehicle. “Sorry it took a few minutes. The creature in there was barely mammalian. English was a challenge.”
“I was beginning to wonder,” Dionysus said. “Moon’s pretty, though.”
“Yeah, okay. This place is creepy. Let’s go,” Loki said.
“Like a psychedelic but awful horror movie. Did you see those spiders?”
The screeching of car tires cut off any forthcoming answer. A beat up Cadillac convertible teared out of the garage, pulling a hard turn that lifted it up on two tires. Jesus flicked a cigarette out of the car as it shot past.
“Great,” Loki said.
Jesus was lying on her bunk staring at the ceiling. A cigarette was burned to the butt, still dangling out of her mouth, with a trailing snake of ash.
“I’ll pay. Fill her up,” Loki’s voice floated in through the open window.
Jesus was clearly dressed for a night out – PVC rubber, big shiny pistol – but had nowhere to go.
Lilith pulled back the red velvet curtain to her sleeping area. Amber and Mary were both passed out in her bed, naked and snoring softly like kittens. Lilith stumbled out, wearing nothing but underwear and combat boot. An unwholesome glow radiated from her. Bite marks and scratches stood out raw and red against her paleness. She stared at the revolver on Jesus’ belt, blinked, and took a long pull on a bottle of vodka.
“I’m sweaty, I’m sore and these fuck monkeys just didn’t know when to quit.”
Lilith went down on all fours, forehead-to-forehead with Jesus. “Steal me a car, you!”
Jesus looked out the window. “I think we’re on the set for a Deliverance remake. There can’t be a–”
“I don’t care. Steal me a car. Let’s go out and have a little fun.” She thumped Jesus playfully on the shoulder as she sat back on the bed, nearly sliding off the edge.
“Oh, fine,” Jesus said. “But put on some clothes.”
The Cadillac wasn’t too bad, Jesus thought, once she got it up to speed. Her purple hair and strips of fabric and yarn blew back in the nighttime breeze as they shot down winding roads. Lilith leaned out the side and yowled as they passed a diner. She was still working that Vodka bottle.
Jesus finally broke a smile. The speedometer gunned up: 80, 90, 100...she slammed a sudden turn. The car fishtailed. Lilith laughed hysterically.
They spun off the road and bucked violently. Jesus gritted her teeth and slammed on the gas.
“Lilith. Vodka. Inspiration. Please!”
Lilith handed her the bottle, and she finished it as they raced across an already harvested corn field. Jesus grinned and slewed back and forth, coaxing the wheels to skid, sliding the huge convertible about like a rally car.
The wheel got out of her control again. “Fuck you, we are not going to flip.”
They stopped in the middle of the field. The beam of the headlights shined on a mooing cow.
Jesus looked up at the canopy of stars above them. She leaped out, and lay on the hood. Lilith joined her.
The stars seemed to pulsate. A verdant sea. Jesus’ breath slowed. She went completely slack and approached the speed of light.
The stars spun, stuck in place, and then time itself shattered. A universe of glass. Under the glass, entities streamed information into her, in the code she thought in before her thoughts became language. She began to realize that these entities were nothing more than fractal masses of code, aware of themselves, and aware of her intrusion into their realm. There was no form. There was only the color red, a sense of distance, thought entering her and leaving her like breath. Jesus herself was nothing more than a passive transponder, suspended in bliss, wetness, warmth.
Epiphanies were sucked back into the depths of her mind as her thoughts slowed from microseconds to minutes. The more profound, the further back they hid. It was as if she’d already known everything there was to know, and the hiding was just a game, something to do while the fire ants stung their prey, as black holes sucked everything past their event horizons, as nations rose and people died and loved and suffered and came to know.
Jesus’ eyes opened. Time returned to its normal pace. “Would it be totally nuts...I mean, totally fucking nuts, to say I think I’m thousands of years old?”
“Oh? Nah,” Lilith said.
“Oh well. Cause I’m totally nuts,” Jesus smiled.
“Though I’d guess you are a great deal older than that,” Lilith said.
“I’m hungry.”
“I think we passed a diner somewhere back there.”
“Pancakes. Fuck yes.”
It was indeed, as the sign said, a diner. It had no name beyond that, and clearly no aspirations towards greatness. The sky was beginning to turn a brilliant blue as they entered.
Jesus plunked herself down on a stool and motioned to the waitress. She was the archetypal kind of diner waitress that looked like she might have been attractive in her glory years: the Peloponnesian War, maybe. She did her best not to react to their
appearance.
“Coffee, please,” Lilith said.
The waitress turned to Jesus.
“Yes. And pancakes,” Jesus said enthusiastically.
The waitress did a double-take as she was about to go. She stared openly at the pistol sticking out of Jesus’ belt. A .45. Not easy to miss.
“Huh? Oh. Right. Silly me. I totally forgot I still had my piece on me. I’ll put it in my car and it’ll be our secret, okay?”
The waitress nodded dumbly.
Jesus got up and headed to the door.
Lilith lit a smoke. She heard the door slam twice behind her.
“Trannies aren’t wanted around here,” a voice behind Jesus said. She stopped, several paces from the entrance. She didn’t turn around.
“Get in your car with your whore. Leave,” he continued.
“Are you stupid?” Jesus asked.
“Huh?”
She could hear gravel crunching as he approached her.
Jesus reached into her belt and spun, leading with her shiny pistol. The fat trucker was staring down its barrel.
“My friend here speaks louder than I can,” Jesus said. She had always wanted to get to say something like that.
He froze like a possum in headlights. Jesus cocked the hammer.
“Don’t walk. Run.”
He remained frozen in place.
Lilith came out of the door, and it slammed behind her. With a crack that echoed across the horizon, the gun went off. The trucker was lifted off the ground with the force of it. Blood splattered everywhere.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to. What did I?” Jesus sputtered.
Lilith ran over to the body. She was grinning.
“I didn’t mean to...”
“That’s like a Jackson Pollock, isn’t it?” Lilith said, tilting her head to look at the remains of his head.
