“But why would humans want to do such a rotten thing to themselves?”
“Because,” Volk said, “when the Divine is missing, the almighty State becomes their god, their politicians and bureaucrats their clergy, and the media the chorus that sings all their praises. The State becomes the arbiter of all right and wrong, true and false, good and evil. Those who hold the power make up the rules as they go, and they base their decrees on whim, or whatever will maintain or increase their control.”
“There,” Cyrus said, indicating that we had reached our destination. He pointed towards the Mercury Building, a financial complex with a grime-streaked, cream-colored Greco-Roman facade.
We strolled up to the towering edifice and entered the building through a revolving door. The same ornate Greco-Roman motif decorated the lobby.
Businesspersons scurried purposefully about as the three of us in our white jumpsuits wound through the crowd without raising an eyebrow. We headed directly towards the elevators and pushed the ‘up’ button. I looked around in agitation and rubbed my arms. I felt chilly and a tad queasy too.
Cyrus and Volk noted my discomfort and exchanged meaningful looks, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. Impossible, of course, but that was what I wondered at the time. Cyrus said, “That’s not the air conditioning you feel.”
“It isn’t?”
He shook his head. “We don’t feel temperature in this dimension. It’s the frigidity of desperation and loneliness.”
“Mine?” I said, confused.
“Theirs,” Cyrus said.
“Is it normal?”
“For them, yes. But whereas we merely feel a slight chill on our skin, the humans in this city feel numbness in their hearts and minds. Worse still, they’ve grown use to it.”
The elevator arrived and the door slid open. We stepped in and Cyrus pushed the top button marked, H.
“H?” I said.
“Heaven.”
“Heaven on Earth,” I chuckled. “That’s a good one! But how? I mean, didn’t we just come from Heaven?”
“A heaven, not ‘the’ Heaven. This is one of many portals. A lookout tower, so to speak. We have them all over Earth.”
“So what happens when a mortal pushes H?”
“He can’t,” Volk said.
“Humans can’t see it?”
“That’s right.”
“What if someone accidentally leaned against it or something?”
“They’d die,” Volk answered. “Poof.”
“Whoa! That doesn’t seem fair.”
Volk chuckled. “I’m joking, Kohai.”
“Hey, you just told me that you guys don’t joke.”
“About the past, remember?”
“Oh…right. So, what would happen? If they accidentally hit the button?”
“Nothing. The button is vibration-sensitive.”
“Of course!” I exclaimed. “And that’s why they can’t see us, right? The mortals’ minds vibrate at different frequencies than ours do.”
“Very good, Kohai,” Volk said.
“Ohh-kay,” I said. “Things are starting to make some sense. The inter-dimensional travel, the whammy you guys put on me back at the archives, your insistence upon all the prayer and meditations and other stuff. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“You wouldn’t have understood,” Cyrus said.
“Yeah, I would have,” I insisted.
“No, you would not have. Adaequatio, Kohai, remember?” Cyrus quoted from the Latin, “Adaequatio rei et intellectus. The understanding of the knower must be adequate to the thing to be known. You can only know what you are prepared to know.”
Cyrus reached into his jumpsuit and withdrew a rolled-up document. He drummed it against his leg.
The elevator stopped, and in stepped Commander Sett, briefcase in hand. He also wore white.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted.
“Commander Sett,” we replied.
“Commander Sett, Sir,” I asked. “What were you doing on the forty-ninth floor? Is that part of Heaven too?”
“Huh? No, that’s where the nitwits at the disgronifier station unfurled me.”
Volk punched H again and the doors closed.
Sett turned a suspicious eye towards Captain Cyrus. “How did you get here before me? I didn’t see you at the disgronifiers.”
Unable to contain my excitement I said, “We came by—”
Volk, standing in his customary pose of arms crossed, stealthily grabbed my arm with his powerful hand and gave it a pain-inducing squeeze.
“—an earlier launch,” I squealed.
Sett pointed at the barf stain on my jumpsuit. “What’s that?”
“Um…breakfast.”
Sett rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he noted Cyrus’s rolled-up manuscript. “Is that any way to treat an official document, Captain? You’re setting a bad example for the cadet here.”
“Kohai,” Cyrus said. “Don’t do this.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sett scowled at Volk and me, and then said to Cyrus, “What are they doing here, anyway?”
“They’ve never been up here before,” Cyrus said.
“For good reason. It’s by invitation only, Captain.”
“I invited them.”
Sett smirked. “Good. Keep it up, Captain, because it is just such reckless disregard for procedure that will ensure me this promotion.”
The elevator doors slid open and we exited into a large, airy reception room. The glass walls curved around us; the vast blue sky outside visible in every direction.
I tapped on the glass but there was no sound. I tapped harder, but still nothing. I hammered it with my fist and noticed it gave a tad. Then I pushed against it with all my might. It gave some more, but then rebounded, flinging me backwards into Captain Volk’s arms. It was elastic! We were in some sort of ion bubble.
“Kohai,” Volk said. “Behave yourself.”
A stunningly beautiful woman greeted us from behind a white marble desk. The nameplate on her desk read: Grace. She wore a clinging, teasingly low-cut diaphanous white dress. Her argent blond hair reflected the sunlight, adding to her glowing complexion.
Even the usually stone-faced Volk couldn’t hide his astonishment. “Got an arrow anyone?” he joked.
Cyrus leaned in towards Volk and whispered, “Told ya.”
Cyrus turned to the celestial and greeted her with, “Say, Grace.” He smiled mischievously. “I love saying that.”
Grace rolled her brilliant, silvery eyes and waggled her finger towards Volk and me. “Who are they?”
“Friends. Fellow Captain Volk and Cadet Kohai.”
“I didn’t think you had any friends, Captain.”
“I’m flattered that you think of me at all, your Graciousness.”
“Captain Volk,” she said seductively, “your reputation precedes you. It’s an honor.”
“The honor is mine, Ma’am.”
“You’re about the closest thing we have to a living legend, Captain. I’ve long hoped for the opportunity to thank you in person for all your great deeds.”
“Ahem,” Cyrus said, and approached her desk. He waved his rolled-up document in the air. Like magic, he now held a bouquet of flowers. He handed it to her. Grace smiled and smelled the flowers.
“Oh, barf,” Sett snorted. “A stupid magic trick isn’t going to ingratiate you to a woman of her eminence.”
“It might if she knew I was up all night practicing that trick.”
“Always the charmer,” Grace said. She pushed the button on her intercom. “Commander Sett and Captain Cyrus are here. … Right away.”
Grace reached into a drawer and pulled out two pairs of special blue-tinted goggles. She set them on the desk and Sett and Cyrus put them on and walked towards a metallic door behind her.
Grace pointed at Captain Volk and me and twirled her finger, gesturing that we turn around.
Volk turned, but I was frozen in
place, too entranced by Grace’s heavenly beauty to move. Volk grabbed my shoulders, yanked me into position, and slapped my hands over my eyes.
Even with eyes covered, I was aware of the bright, celestial luminescence that had filled the room.
Volk said, “Say when.”
“How about tonight?” Grace purred. “Say, ten o’clock?”
The radiance disappeared. Volk and I turned back around and uncovered our eyes. Cyrus and Sett were gone.
In the corner of my eye I noticed Volk suck in his gut. He grinned handsomely, and Grace winked at him.
Sett and Cyrus stood in a corridor lined with Ionic columns, glassy marble beneath their feet. The dual-purpose goggles not only blocked dangerous levels of light, but in darkness they also became infrared glasses, allowing their wearers to see in the gloomy chamber.
The two cupid commandos proceeded down a long hall until they came to a small, dark room with an altar of polished granite. On the altar rested a hand-sized, finely detailed statue of the god Eros with wings and bow and arrow.
Sett knelt reverently before the altar and whispered to Cyrus, “I have to admit, I always feel kinda stupid kneeling before a statue. Especially a puny one. Hell, I have shooting trophies bigger than this. What are you doing, Cyrus? Get down here.”
“I prefer to stand.”
“Fine,” Sett snorted. “That’ll make Eros’s decision that much easier.”
Sett looked up at a small slit in the marble stone ceiling where the edges of a radiating light began to slip through.
“Any moment now,” he said.
The sun passed directly over the slit and a beam of light shot toward the statue with pinpoint accuracy, lighting it up. The statue seemed to vibrate and come alive.
“Clever, huh?” Sett said.
Cyrus rolled his eyes.
A digitalized, imperial voice filled the room. “Gentlemen, you read the dossier. You know my concerns. Plead your cases.”
Sett spoke first.
“Your Majesty, Sir. I stand on my record. My teams of cupids lead in every statistically significant department—number of matches, speed of matches, and percentage of completion. This is because no one has dedicated more time to analyzing the mortals than I.
“As is stated in the dossier that we received, the social and psychological state of the human world has reached a new level of complexity and despair. This dire situation requires a complete updating of our technology and applications.
“I am proud to report,” Sett continued, “that I and my team of analysts have spent the past five years doing just that.” He held up his briefcase. “As general and first in command, with your authority and approval, I am ready to implement these changes immediately.”
“Captain Cyrus,” boomed the voice. “The Commander’s numbers are indeed considerably higher than yours. Do you care to offer an explanation?”
“Your Excellency, Commander Sett has an entire battalion of the Cupid Corps serving under him. My team is two. Commander Sett produces more matches, but five out of ten of his teams’ matches fail within the first year, seven of ten within five years, and nine of ten within ten years. These failures only serve to demoralize the humans and embolden and empower the fear demons. Captain Volk and I work more slowly and perform far fewer matches, yes. But our matches last. Only one in a hundred ever ends in heartache. Furthermore, the goodwill created—”
Sett interjected. “Unsurprisingly, Captain Cyrus doesn’t seem to have read the report.” He turned to Cyrus. “We are at war here, Captain, and time is of the essence. Love is on the retreat like in no previous era in human history. The demons are multiplying faster than we can kill them. Any love is better than none at all.”
“The ‘essence,’ Sett,” Cyrus retorted, “is love, not time. The demons feed on your failures. They don’t take us seriously. They believe we will abandon the mortals when the going gets tough. Not every human must be matched. There was a time when a person was perfectly capable of discerning his or her own bashert—”
“His what?”
“Bashert. What the ancients called soulmate.”
“Oh, please,” Sett groaned.
“That capability still lives within them,” Cyrus went on, addressing the statue and ignoring Sett’s dismissal, “but the humans need examples. One perfect match accomplishes more good, inspires more true matches, and does more damage to the demons than ten thousand of Commander Sett’s meaningless hook-ups. It is the meager remnants of divinity within the humans that needs nourishing, and it is on the battlefield of faith where victory is to be decided.”
Sett let out an impatient, exasperated sigh.
“We can’t fight their war for them,” Cyrus continued, “but we can assist them in those essential contests that can serve to wake them from their spiritual slumber. Within every human heart beats the desire for love and freedom, but the grip of the fear demons is too strong for most people. If, however, we help free the courageous few, the fear demons’ hold on the others will loosen, and courage will spread.”
Sett addressed the statue. “Your Greatness, Sir. The captain lives in a dream world. He gives the humans far too much credit. You know very well what a miserable, petty, undeserving horde of ingrates they are. They care nothing for heroes. Look at those they idolize and seek to imitate. They are typically the most ludicrous and self-absorbed among them!
“Besides,” Sett continued, “Cyrus knows nothing of the advances we are making. While he’s been practicing parlor tricks, my team and I have been producing the next generation of weapons and potions. With the new arsenal that we are developing we will be able to destroy fear demons by the score. I submit that, if I am given the authority to complete my plans, within a few short years the Academy will be able to restore balance to the world and usher in the redemption!”
“You don’t even believe in redemption, Sett,” Cyrus said.
“I speak metaphorically, of course. Unlike you, I know the difference between mythology and history, fact and fiction, science and stupid magic tricks.”
“Enough!” the voice thundered. “You are dismissed. You will know my answer soon enough.”
The light slipped away leaving Sett and Cyrus in darkness.
“Well,” Sett said. “I’d say that went pretty well.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I meant for me, chump. Your ass is mine, Captain, and soon your little three-man operation will be taking all its orders from me.”
“I take orders only from the Almighty, the Holy One, blessed be He.”
Sett smirked. “Your loyalty is admirable, but when Eros makes me Supreme Commander of the Cupid Corps, his wish will become my command, and I’ll be expecting the same kind of loyalty.”
Cyrus smiled wryly. “Who said anything about Eros?”
Sett sighed. “You’re insane, you know that?”
The door slid open and Sett and Cyrus reemerged from the blinding light into the lobby. They returned their goggles to Grace, who handed them each a portfolio.
“What’s this?” Sett asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Your next assignments.”
“Why are you handing them to us? The usual channel—”
“Commander Sett,” Grace said sternly, “it is not your place to ask why. I have orders for you, and that is all you need to know. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“It’s a test,” Cyrus said.
“Hmm,” Sett said. “Fine by me.” He rubbed his hands together. “Like I said, your ass is mine, Captain.”
“Yo, barbarian,” Cyrus scolded. “You are speaking in front of a lady.”
“Sorry, Ma’am. Soldier talk.”
Grace nodded across the room towards Captain Volk. His back to us, he was observing the world below.
“That’s the only behind I’m interested in,” Grace said, a sultry smoke in her voice.
Volk, paying no attention to the conversation, scratched his rump.
&nb
sp; Cyrus, Grace, and I laughed. Sett rolled his eyes.
The four of us strolled back to the elevator.
I waved goodbye to Grace, who blew me a kiss. My legs buckled.
Cyrus caught me. “Steady there, cowboy.”
The elevator door closed and we started our descent.
Cyrus turned to Captain Volk. “At ease, V-man.”
Volk exhaled and half his barrel chest dropped back to his waist.
“She’s a man-eater that one,” Cyrus warned.
Volk grinned and patted his gut. “If she wants a piece of this, she’ll have to put in the hours.”
“Attaboy,” Cyrus chuckled.
Sett shook his head in disbelief. “Dreamers. Is there no end to your delusions?”
“So,” I asked excitedly. “What’s he like? Eros? Is he as beautiful as the professors at the Academy say he is? Man, you guys are so lucky!”
Sett said, “He’s a god, moron. Of course, he’s beautiful.”
“Just wondering, that’s all,” I said sheepishly.
Cyrus said, “Eros is everything you’ve read he is in the archives.”
“But he isn’t even mentioned in the archives,” I said, confused.
“Exactly,” Cyrus said.
Sett groaned. “You and your esoteric bunkum. Why do you have to make everything so complicated? He’s a rock about this big,” Sett admitted in frustration, indicating the size with thumb and middle finger extended.
“A rock?” I said, appalled.
“A…ah…talking rock,” Sett stuttered. “Eros can’t meet us face to face, so we…” Flustered, he turned on Cyrus, “Haven’t you taught this kid anything?”
9
Old School
We exited the Mercury Building onto a busy sidewalk. We attracted no attention, but sometimes a human would accidentally brush up against us. It tingled, and for a brief moment the person’s expression registered bafflement or, in some cases, a bemused smile or chuckle.
Commander Sett withdrew his inter-dimensional communicator. “Fold me up boys. Huh? Yeah…hold on.” He turned to the captains and me. “You weirdos need a lift?”
Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Book 1: Hell-bent (Shooting Eros Series) Page 4
