What the Hand: A Novel About the End of the World and Beyond

by Stockwell, Todd

  Children were doing the impossible here already. It was all tied to their innocence, their inclination toward belief as opposed to skepticism, their unwavering faith. I’d seen children running and playing on lakes like they were concrete. I’d seen them move boulders without touching them. And I would see my own daughter fly.

  ***

  I took off my clothes and dove in the water, which I knew would feel perfect no matter what time of year it was. Had I been a child, I could have willed my body to feel the water, or air, at whatever temperature I chose. I would like to do that someday, to feel the sting of a freezing wind or even the burn of scalding water. Sometimes things could be too perfect. How foolishly greedy I am, still.

  Floating on my back, I stared at the stars and planets, easily seen even in daylight. The Earth had moved closer toward the heavens, and the skies had been wiped clean of the foul air and other debris that once tainted our view on the Old Earth. I could see the craters on the moon and the rings of Jupiter as if they were features of the Earth’s landscape somewhere in the distance. But this was only the beginning. We would be able to see it all one day, to move through time and space, to will our bodies to any destination in the blink of an eye. I was ecstatic over the thought, filled with the joy of endless possibility.

  But the joy was short-lived. As always, my thoughts turned to what was once my life, and what was once my family, to my guilt and regret, and to the coming judgment. The new bodies were free of pain, but our souls could still carry the pain of our old lives, as long as we held on to it.

  And I still had no idea how to let go.

  ***

  I continued on the road to New Jerusalem, which ran close to the sea. People were sailing on wooden vessels near the shore, where others frolicked in the waves and sand, swimming and playing with dolphins and seals.

  A beautiful woman passed me on a bicycle and smiled. All the women here were beautiful and all the men handsome in the New Kingdom, and yet their basic features had not changed one iota since the Old Earth.

  Moreover, all the hours of plastic surgery were gone; all the tucks, lifts, and add-ons were history. True, the blemishes, scars, excess fat, and even most of the wrinkles were gone, but the permanent features—the huge noses, the buck teeth, the pointy chins, the giant foreheads, the small eyes, and whatever else was considered ugly or at least less than desirable by the shallow standards of our little minds—were now perceived for their true and unique beauty, as if a veil of stupidity had finally been removed.

  Beauty had been an obsession of people on the Old Earth. Some people would do almost anything to possess a version of it. They would have their skin poisoned, their faces stretched, their noses broken, their chests cut open, their stomachs stapled, their fat vacuumed, and on and on. By the time most of these people were done, their skin was unusually tight and their features unnaturally sharp or bulbous, so they didn’t look pretty or young even by Old Earth standards—go figure.

  ***

  The road curved and I spied a couple with a young boy packing up their vehicle. The boy looked to be about eight or nine and must have been a baby when he was raptured or died. What bliss, to never know the pain of the Old Earth, to live here without shame or guilt.

  I assumed the two were once married on the Old Earth, unless the boy was a relative or something. Although there were no new marriages in the New Kingdom, families with children would remain together, at least until the child was of age, and afterwards, if they decided. That is, if they made it into the New Kingdom intact. If not, they would live with one parent, close relatives, or foster parents of some sort.

  Marriage had been a necessity on the Old Earth, where children, especially—but men and women, too—needed structure and protection from the disorder and vindictiveness of the world. Man’s sinful nature had created a barrier to God’s light and love, which the love and faith of family served to overcome. And while not ideal, even the love of a secular family offered hope to a child. After all, all love was of God.

  ***

  There was no sex in the New Kingdom either, and nobody missed it. It was looked back upon like a bad habit, like nose picking and such.

  ***

  Ignoring Sophie’s insistence that I walk the whole way, I decided it was time to speed up my journey to the city, if only to get out of my own head for a bit, and asked them for a lift. It was just a formality. I knew they would say yes. People were once afraid to pick up hitchhikers on the Old Earth, what with so many thieves and psychopaths roaming about. But there was nothing to fear in the New Kingdom, and people were glad for the company of strangers.

  I sat next to the young boy as we glided down the road. The sky was mostly clear with thin wisps of purple, yellow, and red toned clouds. We joked and laughed and talked. They had been a tight little family, living a quiet and simple life in Indiana, when the Rapture took them. The father asked me if I had children.

  “I have a little girl…not so little, twenty-one now,” I answered.

  “Are you still living together?” the mother asked.

  “She’s with her mother.”

  “Your marriage didn’t last on the Old Earth, then?”

  “No…I messed that up.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That must be hard.”

  “It is,” I said.

  “What happened?” asked the father.

  ***

  Such straightforward questions were unusual, and mostly unheard of among strangers on the Old Earth, where people were afraid of discussing things real or important, unless they were spoken about behind somebody’s back. No, people would rather discuss hot weather, motorbikes, football, television shows, and all manner of nonsense. They were afraid somebody might say something challenging or uncomfortable. People on the Old Earth would go to great lengths to avoid awkwardness, even if it meant ignoring people, leaving them alone with their problems, helpless and without hope.

  ***

  “I was a fool,” I said.

  The boy laughed.

  “Sorry…it’s not funny,” said the father.

  I smiled at the boy. “No…it’s fine. It might be funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.”

  “Still, he knows better,” said the father.

  “Do you see them?” said the mother.

  “Just my daughter, mostly…her mom already gave it all she had.”

  “Well, you have that,” said the mother.

  “Yes, I have that.”

  ***

  We drove in silence for a while, not an awkward silence. There was too much truth for that. Silence in the New Kingdom was reflection and love, pure and simple.

  Finally, the boy spoke. “Have you been to New Jerusalem before?”

  “No. This will be the first time,” I said.

  “Oh, you’re going to love it!” said the boy. “I’ve been twice already. I won’t tell you about it because I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  But he was a child and couldn’t hold it in, so a moment later, he began spilling the beans about the “weird-curvy” architecture, a pyramid “big as a mountain,” and great museums filled with “old stuff that used to be dust.” He told me of a building, “high as the sky,” “streets shining like diamonds,” and shops “filled with toys and cakes and candy.” And he told of a movie theater “with a thousand screens, where you could watch yourself, and cowboys and monsters and stuff.”

  I already knew about the Theater of History. I read all about it at the Hall of Knowledge, but I kept quiet. I didn’t want to spoil the boy’s fun.

  “Let the man be a little surprised,” said his father.

  “Sorry,” said the boy.

  “Sounds wonderful,” I said, and I winked and smiled at the boy.

  He smiled back.

  ***

  I had to admit I was excited. But I was also nervous and afraid. I felt like Pinocchio, eager to venture to the Land of Play, only to be turned into a donkey.
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  ***

  When we came to a long driveway off the side of the road, they stopped the vehicle to let me out. I could see a dozen or more large houses perched along the cliffs. I picked a house, pictured their happy life there, and smiled to myself. “Thank you,” I said.

  The boy hugged my legs and the woman held my hand. “Don’t give up,” she said.

  ***

  It was good to see a family together, and it made my heart glad. They drove up the driveway, and I waved and watched them for a moment before I continued my trek toward the city.

  ***

  It grew dark, but I kept walking. I walked most of the night, thinking about the years on the Old Earth when Sophie was small, and Renee and I were happy. How I had failed to cherish and hold onto the beauty of those days was my deepest regret. So I let the memories slip into self-loathing, until I grew tired of thinking and slept to clear my mind.

  ***

  The new bodies didn’t require sleep. Sleep was a choice. People here still slept at night out of habit, or to clear their thoughts. It was the thing I needed, a break from my troubled mind, a sure respite from the pain and the memories. There was no such thing as a nightmare in paradise, or so I thought.

  26

  I’m not sure how long I slept, but it had mostly done the trick. My self-loathing had waned to an acceptable degree, and I continued my journey with renewed vigor.

  ***

  After a few miles, I saw floating in the distance what appeared to be a huge white quilt spanning the entire length of a vast plain, surrounded by a thick barrier of woodlands. As I got closer, I began to make out individual structures, and I knew what I had seen moving from a distance were the cloth tops of Tent City.

  It was the reason I had chosen this route. I didn’t know exactly why I needed to go to Tent City, but something was drawing me to this enclave of the nearly damned. Perhaps I felt a special kinship toward them. Still, I became fearful as I approached, slowing my pace until I reached the woods surrounding the tents, then stopping completely.

  Just past the tree line were two large storehouses. Men loaded carts with supplies, and I immediately recognized the distant look in their eyes because I had seen it in the mirror so often, and so at once felt at ease.

  They finished loading, and I followed them as they pulled the carts through the woods and into the city. What struck me most about Tent City was the heavy silence. There must have been thousands of men and women milling around, yet no one talked beyond a few whispers here and there. Some worked, but most sat or stood staring at the ground as if in contemplation of something monumental.

  ***

  I wondered what was on their minds. Was it the family they destroyed? Was it the wrongs they committed toward their fellow man? Were they bitter about their lot in paradise?

  Nothing confined them to Tent City. Sure, they were brought here to settle in the beginning, but they were free to move around like anybody else. Still, people from Tent City, I read, didn’t often travel. Perhaps they were afraid their patch of paradise wouldn’t be there when they returned.

  ***

  The few people that did look up from their meditations and did happen to notice me, I could tell, knew instinctively that I wasn’t one of them. According to what I read, the people of Tent City were the fringe of the fringe. If I made it into paradise by a spider hair, they made it by the hair of a flea. I couldn’t see much of a difference, but it was written there at the Hall of Knowledge in black and white. And the sad part was that some of these people wouldn’t make it.

  At the end of the thousand years, the pit would be opened and Satan would lead the whole pit crew in one last foolish battle with God, offering kingdoms to anyone in paradise who would join. And though they could have easily looked up the suicidal outcome of that battle, just as I did, hundreds from Tent City and more from other parts of paradise would follow Satan in his quest for eternal damnation anyway. I am a stupid man, but this takes the stupid cake.

  ***

  There were fires everywhere. I smelled something cooking, so I felt like eating. I saw a man and women dressed in garb from the middle ages, stirring a large pot hanging over a wood fire like a scene from some medieval postcard. I stood on the path in front of them knowing they would offer me something to eat.

  ***

  William and Althea Stout were their names, and they gave me food and their story in low whispers. They were married and lived their lives in 16th century England, a particularly harsh period of history. They died of disease while in their mid-fifties. They didn’t deserve to be in paradise, they told me. True, they had been Christians, part of the Church of England, but times were tough, so they begged and stole and even killed a man once out of revenge during their quest to preserve a slice of the survival pie.

  It happened when they were very young. Through no fault of their own, they had been thrown off of the estate where they had lived and worked all of their lives. The work the Stouts did on the estate was a kind of slavery. They were part of a system known as serfdom. And like slavery, serfdom was another Illuminati invention—slavery disguised to look like something else. The Stouts were thrown off the estate after the owner, a Lord Peckham, made advances on the innocent Althea and was soundly rejected.

  ***

  Men of stature throughout history often assumed it was their right to accost women of lower economic standing. The king at that time, Henry VIII, decided it was his right to take as many mistresses and wives as he wanted. Since the church frowned upon divorce without good reason, Henry made up terrible stuff about his wives so he could have the marriages annulled, even having a couple of these poor ladies beheaded to make it look good and because he didn’t want them moving on to other men.

  The only thing Henry liked as much as women was eating. Portraits of the king show a pretty hefty dude posing in all his finery. I quoted earlier from the Bible that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven. Well, it’s even harder for a wealthy and gluttonous man, especially one who murders women in order to sleep around.

  ***

  To his small credit, Lord Peckham could have simply taken or raped Althea anyway. And he might have, had he thought about it right away. But he was so embarrassed by Althea’s rejection that his first reaction was to get rid of the evidence by having his guards remove the Stouts from his property.

  People on the Old Earth, especially people of power, hated being embarrassed. Some of them would go to great lengths to avoid embarrassing situations. They would lie and steal and hide, and even commit murder if it meant saving face. What a world it was.

  ***

  Starving and on the road, the Stouts fell in with a group of mendicants, quickly learning the lower arts of survival—mostly how to steal without getting caught, conning their fellow man out of goods and coins, and the most effective methods of garnering sympathy for handouts like feigning injury, holding “borrowed” babies, self-mutilation, and other tricks of the trade.

  Eventually, they made their way to the city of London. At the time, London was seeing a population explosion while it became the center for European commerce and culture. The Stouts were just one couple out of thousands of desperate people pouring into the city to make a living. Soon after they arrived, they split from their fellow vagabonds and set up on a busy corner to beg and steal on their own.

  The problem was that the corner they picked had already been claimed by a ruthless, criminal entrepreneur, known as Hans the German because he hailed from Frankfurt. Hans would slit his mother’s throat for a half a schilling, and when he saw the couple plying their trade on his corner, the much larger German pummeled poor William nearly unconscious and then ripped the dress off the screaming Althea just for fun.

  ***

  William and Althea had had enough of being pushed around. They had been taking crap all their lives, and the big German was the final straw. Jesus would have told them to turn the othe
r cheek. Had they listened, they would have avoided much of the guilt and misery that followed them the rest of their lives.

  Instead, they plotted their revenge. Each day they watched Hans the German from the shadows, monitoring his crafty comings and goings, until they caught him unawares in one of his many sleeping spots, spread out in various corners, crevices, and cubbyholes throughout London.

  With a dull knife, a rock, and a broken piece of iron-gate, they pounced on Hans with a viciousness summoned from hell and a lifetime of frustration. They continued stabbing, pounding kicking, and gouging the German long after he was dead.

  Many who kill gain a taste for blood or at least an apathetic view toward killing. The Stouts never killed or hurt anybody again. They never even raised their voices in anger, nor did they steal again. They spent the rest of their miserable lives working any job they could find to scratch out a living, trying to forget about what they had done to the German. But they couldn’t. They never talked about it, but it had been eating at both of them, and at one time or another they silently confessed and asked God’s forgiveness. It worked.

  ***

  Some on the Old Earth hated the concept of confession, or at least they complained about it. Especially the idea that someone could drink and whore around, committing all manner of sin on Friday and Saturday, only to ask for forgiveness on Sunday, was for them the ultimate in hypocrisy.

  What these nonbelievers didn’t understand was that we were all sinners on the Old Earth. The sin wasn’t as important as what was in a man’s heart. Some who confessed were forgiven; some who confessed were not. Only God can see into a man’s heart. Forgiveness is gained by self-awareness and understanding, not by some earthly absolution.

  The greater hypocrisy was that nonbelievers loved to point a finger at someone calling themselves a Christian for any little error, while at the same time bending over backwards to defend child molesters, murderers, rapists, baby killers, homicidal Islamic terrorists, and genocidal dictators, and on and on. This was because they had an unreasonable and supernatural hatred toward Christians. Under the gentle prodding of Satan and his Illuminati, they set out to destroy all things “God” on the Old Earth. The Illuminati exploited their guilt to this end by feeding them a sense that Christians were judging them all the time.