But so far, this new year was very much like all the previous years. Out loud in her car, she said one more time, “I wish there could be more epiphanies in my life.”
Leaving the interstate, she turned east onto the two-lane blue highway that would take her to Barrow Heights. Geographically, the state of Iowa bridges the forests of the east and the treeless Great American desert (to borrow terminology from a nineteenth century concept) of the high plains east of the Rockies, with the rolling grass-covered prairies in between. Here in northeast Iowa, she had left behind the open vista of the prairie. Where she was now had more hills, more gray squirrels, and more trees, so no more opportunities to catch an open 360º view of the entire horizon. Of course each topography had its own type of beauty to recommend it, but sometimes when she felt like the trees got in the way and blocked the view, she knew she was feeling homesick for the wide open prairies.
Tired of driving, she was glad to see confirmation that she getting close to home when she passed a sign along the highway advertising the Effigy Mounds National Monument in Harper’s Ferry, the only national monument in Iowa. Thinking about the ancient burial mounds protected by the park reminded her of a paper written a few weeks ago near the end of the fall semester. One of her students had made an improbable link between those burial mounds and Dante’s Divine Comedy. Rob Terrell had been very eager to write about the connection between the giants in The Inferno and the giant skeletons found in mounds in places like Harper’s Ferry and elsewhere in Iowa, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. He said, “Dr. Marwitz, please let me use this as a topic. You’ll see. It will make a great paper. I’ll be able to connect it to Dante. It’s a natural.” His theme was based on a passage, quoted from Dorothy L. Sayer’s translation of The Inferno:
...Therefore know,
These are not towers, but giants, set in a ring,
And hid from the navel down in the well below.
And just as when a mist is vanishing,
Little by little the eye reshapes anew
The outlines hid by the crowded vapouring,
So, as that thick, gross air we journeyed through,
Little by little drawing nigh the well,
My error left me and my terror grew.
Originally reluctant to okay his topic because she had doubted that it would work as a research paper or have very much to do with Dante, Mia thought his title, “The Supernatural and Giants in Dante, the Bible, and Burial Mounds in the Midwest,” was a better fit for a cable TV show. (“It’s NEPHILIM & GIANT SKELETON WEEK on the Enigmatic Conundrum Channel!”) But Rob had been so enthusiastic about the subject that she had given her approval, hoping this energy would carry over into the final paper. And it had.
Although many of his sources — The Book of Enoch, The Book of Giants (from the Dead Sea Scrolls), The Book of Jasher, as well as books written by Dr. Thomas Horn, L.A. Marzulli, Steven Quayle, and Chuck Missler — had nothing to do with Dante or even Renaissance literature, Rob managed to make the connection. His paper demonstrated how people in Dante’s time (and earlier) had a different worldview than current thought. They had an absolute belief in the reality of a supernatural world. He had started by defining their view of the supernatural, using research provided in the book The Unseen Realm by Dr. Michael Heiser.
People today believe in an infinite universe which is defined everywhere by unchanging laws of physics. No matter how far you travel, you always remain in a natural world governed by rules of science. But in Dante’s time, people believed that there were two overlapping realms, the natural and the supernatural, the seen and the unseen, each ruled by a different set of laws. Two overlapping realms connected to each other with divine beings continually traveling back and forth between the two. Sometimes, human beings also found themselves in the company of those travelers. Heaven (or Hell) was a place that could be reached from Earth by walking along a path or perhaps by taking a stairway or by climbing a beanstalk, where you could meet the heroes of mythology or giants or angels or the appointed guardians in charge of that realm. These supernatural places were not empty or inactive, but were populated with beings who controlled the forces of nature (storms, wind, heat, cold, earthquakes, for instance), as well as many ranks of angelic beings — from winged messengers people normally think about when they hear the word angel to archons, angelic dominions who each have their own nation on Earth to rule, to the weird-looking creatures who serve as God’s chariot or throne guardians and never leave the divine presence. Select citizens of the supernatural realm meet on a regular basis with God as part of a steering committee of sorts. According to Rob’s information, this Divine Council addresses issues and events needing attention, listens to petitions offered by humans and angels while working out ways to accomplish God’s will. Assignments requiring one or more heavenly beings to travel to Earth (or some other location) are offered and fulfilled on a volunteer basis. The prophecy of Micaiah in 1 Kings 22 was provided by Rob as an example of how the Divine Council functioned. There are also assignments this Council entrusts to the people on Earth, but unfortunately, many times no one volunteers to complete the task. Rob cited Isaiah 59:16 as an example of this failing on humanity’s part.
Before reading Rob’s paper, Mia hadn’t realized there was a segment of evangelical Christians who were so actively involved with the supernatural, who didn’t dismiss it as unreal or merely symbolic, who made it their mission to provide answers from the Bible for the mysteries presented by ETs, ghosts, giants, secret societies, demons, UFOs, and various conspiracy theories. They connected stories of twelve-foot tall red-headed cannibals as told by the Paiute Indians in Arizona to the Biblical story of the Nephilim, also called the Fallen Ones — the hybrid children of fallen angels and human women — who were the reality behind the stories of the Titans and giants of mythology. First century Jewish historian Josephus said these giants had super-human strength along with “great and extreme wickedness.” Referring to works like The Book of Enoch or The Book of Jasher that are quoted in the Bible but not included in the canon, these Christians were also familiar with the history of the fathers of these giants, a group of two hundred fallen angels called The Watchers — angels who had forsaken their heavenly duties and swore an oath to each other on Mount Hermon to stand strong in their rebellion against God. These evangelicals also linked end time prophecy to fallen angels and hybrid giants returning to earth, causing great fear and despair in all people who encounter them. Rob reported that this sense of peril and dread that people feel in the presence of giants was mentioned both in Dante and in the Old Testament of the Bible. One Biblical example he cited was the squad of ten spies who encountered giants when they were sent to spy out the Promised Land. They felt like grasshoppers — small, vulnerable to destruction, and insignificant.
Rob’s depiction of evil giants, who in the days before the Flood tried to steal the Earth from God’s control, and after, were punished by being imprisoned under the earth, eternally alive but confined, writhing in endless dark torment, meshed well with Dante’s vision of Hell where souls are punished in a way that mirrors the sin they committed during their lives. Rob’s paper, the research and the themes he developed, had made an impression on Mia, who could see the giants trapped under the soil, crying out against their fate while farmers tilled peaceful fields above their dungeons, not knowing what was encased in stony darkness underneath the ground where they drove their tractors back and forth.
In Mia’s view, reading research papers that presented great ideas was one of the best perks enjoyed by English professors. She got to consider concepts she wouldn’t ever have discovered on her own. But like the sunshine and blue skies that had been overcome by the cold and silvery overcast, Mia’s mind was now clouded and darkened by thoughts of hidden supernatural forces working behind the scenes to overthrow God’s world in secret and unsuspected ways. Plots made to put an end to the routine pleasures of daily
life, planned by supernatural beings who were at war with God and humanity.
Up ahead, Mia saw the sign marking the city limits for Postville and was glad to see it. Only sixteen miles to go! Twenty minutes later, she pulled off the highway at the northern edge of Barrow Heights. What a relief. The three-hundred-fifty mile drive was nearly over. She would be home after a quick trip past Barrow Heights’ landmarks — the new Darisford Inn (the four story franchise hotel recently built near the highway), Chuck’s Chock-Fuel gas and convenience store, the nine hole golf course, the Chevy dealership, past the feed and seed and hardware stores. Turning left at what used to be the town’s only streetlight, she drove through the charming Barrow Heights business district (three blocks long) on the extra wide Main Street with stores on either side — an old-fashioned five-and-dime general store (with everything from candy, shampoo, makeup, greeting cards, sundries, small appliances, party decorations, fabric and yarn), the jewelry store where Edgestow students bought their class rings, the florist and gift shop, two pharmacies, osteopathic doctor, lawyer, optometrist, chiropractor, regional health care clinic, realtor and land auction offices, the bank, the men’s-wear and shoe store that always had a table of sale items out on the sidewalk, the cell phone and digital gadget store, Barrow Heights’ favorite restaurant called The Midnight Airship, an insurance office next to the municipal building containing city hall and the sheriff’s office, the weekly newspaper, the volunteer fire department. Then she turned right at the Lutheran church onto Sixth Street, drove three blocks, and finally pulled into the driveway of her house. The Victorian era house was painted yellow and white with gabled roofs and a tower on one corner (where her bedroom was), a black cast iron fence complete with gate surrounding the front yard, a wrap-around porch with a white metal glider. She unlocked the front door, brought her luggage in, then gathered up the mail that had been accumulating while she was gone, and at last sat in her favorite chair across from the fireplace. She sighed, “Sanctuary!” and put her feet up. It was so nice to be home again, away from expectations and tacit pressure to change her life because she’d been weighed and found wanting.
Thirty minutes later Mia was upstairs in her tower bedroom unpacking, thinking about the evening ahead. She decided she would do a little work on that article she intended to submit for publication. Her idea was to show how the temptation in Milton’s Paradise Lost, picking an apple off the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, wasn’t a metaphor for another type of sin (like sex) or an example of a harsh and unfeeling God over-reacting to a minor infraction. (Eating fruit? How bad a thing was that? Why condemn anyone for that?) Instead, she believed that most people were missing the point of the incident. Putting in a tree that was forbidden in the middle of the garden, right next to the Tree of Life, was God’s way of providing the two new humans with a choice of whose side they wanted to be on, who did they want to be loyal to. God was giving them the means to reject or accept Heaven’s rule any time they wanted to, wasn’t forcing them to remain in a passive continuation of their initial condition. Angels in Heaven could take up arms against God and oppose his sovereignty when they wanted to stop serving him, but the people on Earth had no access to God’s throne. If they wanted to rebel, what could they do, stuck in Eden on Earth? By providing the forbidden fruit, God was giving the father and mother of the human race a way out of his service. The arbitrary nature of the commandment made sense if you understood that of course eating from the forbidden tree was a small thing, a meaningless act in itself. Because disobedience was intended to signify they wished to escape from their service to God and nothing else. In a garden full of fruit, with another divine tree offering eternal life nearby, the commandment to not eat from the forbidden tree was no burden on Adam or Eve in any way. They were not being denied anything or being held in repressive ignorance. The fruit, the tree didn’t matter — except to show a willingness to maintain (or give up) their undivided loyalty. What mattered was choosing a side, God’s side or the serpent’s side. Allegiance and obedience, or opting to give that up. Blessing or rebellion. Life or death. God made it supremely easy for the first humans to make that choice.
Downstairs, she walked through the dining room filled with the light of the setting sun into the spacious kitchen. “And I’ve got to do something about dinner too. There’s nothing in the fridge.”
2 | Bar
Just then, Mia’s cell phone rang. “Jan! Perfect timing! I was just thinking about ordering a pizza. No, I’ll join you there. I’d much rather meet everyone at The Airship instead.” The invitation to join her colleagues from the college came from Jan Ferris, the fifty-something administrative assistant for the English Department. With her bleached blonde semi-bouffant hairdo, ever-present brilliant smile, contagious laugh, and generous nature, Jan held a special place in Mia’s heart. She had ever since she had made homemade chicken soup and brought it over to the house when Mia had been sick for an entire week with the flu her first year at Edgestow College.
Ninety minutes later in the early darkness of a January evening, a quick run out to her car in the cold winter air and a short drive to downtown brought Mia to The Midnight Airship, the best restaurant in Barrow Heights. (The new Darisford Inn out by the highway had a very nice restaurant called the Barrow Heights American Grille, but it wasn’t the people’s favorite.) The Airship was the gathering place for locals to get a great meal or pizza while meeting with friends. With tiled floors, ordinary tables and chairs, the ambiance didn’t get noticed much. But the decor didn’t matter — who you met and what you “et” was the draw. Tonight, many of the Edgestow College liberal arts faculty and staff were there, taking a break from turkey leftovers, new Christmas toys and gadgets, and general holiday overload.
Dr. Stephen Harper, the sixty-something head of Edgestow College’s English Department, called to her from the back of the restaurant. “Mia! So glad you could come!” The professor with wavy gray hair and wire rim glasses had a sonorous voice that carried over the other conversations in the restaurant. He was seated next to his wife Betty who waved hello. “How was Christmas with your family? Pull up a chair, we’re just putting in our order.”
Mia’s face lit up with a big smile when she heard their call. Her features were attractive in a classical and understated way, accented by her sincere blue-gray eyes. But in a crowd, the quiet beauty, open honesty, and friendliness of her face wouldn’t attract much attention and could easily be overlooked. Unless she was smiling.
About four dozen people, faculty and staff with their families were gathered around ten tables moved together in a hollow square. “Mia! Come sit next to me! I saved a seat for you,” Jan called out.
With all the laughing, teasing, and talking, the meal was more like a family reunion than a faculty get-together. The familiar and friendly rivalry between the Hawkeyes, Cyclones, Huskers, Panthers, and Badgers dominated the conversation, and questions about whose football team had done best in the postseason flew back and forth across the table. And then someone brought up basketball. There was also a friendly rivalry between the different departments — who had the best office location, who had the best students, who did the college president like best, where the best athletes were from, who had written for the most prestigious publication, who had won the latest award.
Dr. Roger Underton (Journalism) mentioned a rumor that the college was in very serious financial trouble. Dr. Grant Hartwig (Humanities/Philosophy) asked, “How can that be? Enrollment has been up for the last five years in a row now.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,” Jan said. “Saying that the college is in trouble is crazy talk.”
“I don’t know” Dr. Lizette Crandall (Business) said. “Because I’ve heard there have been a lot of closed door meetings going on in the president’s office. Meetings where people came out afterward looking serious and worried.”
Dr. Harper coughed, took a sip of water, and then changed the subject
. “Don’t the Hawks play at Lansing this week?”
Not a part of the Edgestow faculty, the four people at the table directly behind Mia looked like they didn’t belong in Barrow Heights and would be insulted if someone thought they did belong. Newcomers to the area, it was obvious what company they worked for — Integrated Computer Operating Network Systems, otherwise known as iCon. The world-class global networking and software corporation that had inexplicably moved their corporate headquarters five years ago to Barrow Heights, forcing employees from Chicago to move to Iowa. Not even big city Iowa, which couldn’t begin to compare to the Windy City, but at least there you could find most of the well-known franchise food and beverage purveyors. The best you could do in Barrow Heights for a cup of coffee to go in the morning was Chuck’s Chock-Fuel, where your choices were caffeinated or decaf, self-served in a styrofoam cup. This was small town Iowa, sixty miles from the nearest mall and a short caramel macchiato. Barrow Heights was the certified middle of nowhere in northeast Iowa, which is not where the people who worked for iCon wanted to be.
A startup company in 1971, Integrated Computer Operating Networks had been sparked by the hot sales of managed time-sharing system software developed by Damien Cezary, a recent doctoral graduate from Northwestern University. His first clients were universities and big businesses with large mainframe computers. Several years later, the company began to change their business model, building modems for retail sale and developing service bureau locations that connected via phone lines to a central computer. When chatting online became a thing for America, iCon established more and more server farms across the country to provide access to the internet for the growing thousands of people new to the web. As usage of computers and the internet changed, the company adapted and shifted its emphasis again, this time to cloud computing. But consistent throughout all eras in their history, iCon had been an industry leader with iron-clad security protocols that prevented their multiple users on a single server from accessing data which did not belong to them and that also kept hackers at bay, no matter what.
No Geek Rapture for Me_I'm Old School Page 2
