Jason is sitting in a small bar--the local dive on the east coast of Argentina--drinking with his closest and only friend, Noah. The air is thick with the humidity of summertime and the cigar smoke from an inebriated local. Though two gringos in this establishment might look out-of-the-ordinary, the American air base next door has supplied this modest tavern with many patrons for many years.
He is letting his buddy navigate the terrain of conversation as Noah so often likes to do. In mid-sentence he pauses for effect as he swigs the last of his beer, straining as he swallows the large gulp. As he slams the glass down he continues his shtick with the same breath, “She said no way.”
Not a surprise, but Jason humours him. “She didn’t even consider it?”
Noah shakes his head in disappointment as he pours himself another beer. “Not even for a second.” His best friend and fiancé, Katie, is abroad and being away from her for so long is starting to take its toll on poor Noah. Now most conversations revolve around her. “And I know for a fact that our friends back home are doing it. It’s like all those fellas are in some special group now. Bonding over this shit.”
Jason has had enough of the self-pity and returns fire with the truth. “But, if you’re both not ready to have kids…”
“I know I know, I hear the same thing from our mothers, and those two are not to be crossed. So, yes. Maybe in a couple of years, she said, we’ll start planning for one.”
“You’re both young, let her go out and get a drink…” Noah just stares at Jason and raises an eyebrow. He may not hold Jason’s intellect in high regard but he expects better than this. Jason is quick to follow-up his previous obvious statement with, “Legally. Let her graduate college, explore a career, experience life or whatever you…”
Noah cuts him off knowing exactly what he is building to. “Don’t you dare say it.”
It is Jason’s turn to pause for effect as he finishes his drink. “Non-believers…”
“And there it is folks.”
When he wants to really rile Noah he likes to nudge the conversation to a topic not appropriate around the dinner table. “I’m telling you to experience whatever it is you non-believers think the future holds for you.”
This is not the first time he has tried to convert Noah, who now is accustomed to opening with, “Uhh, no more doomsday shit.”
This time Jason hopes the conversation would end on a different note. “I’ve joined.” It is almost a confession, an accidental inflection with undertones of guilt.
Damn.
It was too late to recover before Noah blurts out loudly, “What? Who?”
Jason’s turn to look to Noah with eyebrow raised. With pride, he states, “Me.”
The ambiguity of his response is lost on Noah and it’s starting to get on his nerves. “Yes, of course you, but what did you join?” There’s a pause while the cogs of realisation begin to turn. Jason is patient as he waits for Noah to work it out. After a short moment the penny drops. “Not that bullshit cult?”
This is the response Jason expected. “You’ll find it’s pronounced the Church of Light. You are also referring to a legitimate religion that has attracted some of the richest, most powerful and intelligent people.”
Noah, always eager for a fight, takes the bait and bites. “A few trash celebrity actors and eccentric physicists praying to some random star from a forgotten era hardly qualifies. You’re not going to get all Heaven’s Gate on me in a few weeks are you?”
“Mock me if you will, but have you ever been to one of their sermons?”
Smug with his last retort, Noah is very quick to fire back. “I’m willing to bet it is some variation of the same old ancient stories; some kind of god’s wrath, rituals that prove your faith, tales of divine offspring followed by some form of resurrection, and with the big finish of a global catastrophe where only the righteous survive.”
He got him there. Jason fumbles to defend his position but Noah continues to walk all over him. “Look, sitting on a pew for a few hours once a week and, for use of a better word, being conscripted are two very different things. You’ve just finished your service, and now, correct me if I’m wrong, you’re going to pilgrimage to Antarctica, live under the ice with the rest of the ‘believers’?”
“No one is forcing me into anything, and, yes. I plan to go soon. I’m certainly not going back to the States. Nuclear reactors in the east, supermassive volcanoes in the west. If I wasn’t going to the South Pole, I’d be flying to Australia.” Maybe distracting Noah with thoughts of his estranged love might slow his attack down. It works.
“God I miss her. You could’ve met up with Katie. She’s over there now at some twelve-day conference thing.”
“Well, at least she’ll be safe when you-know-what happens.”
Noah rolls his eyes at his prediction. “Look, I know you’ve always been a ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ sorta guy, but, in fear of sounding disrespectable… why them?”
“This religion doesn’t hurt anyone, and there’s something to be said for what started as a few monks in an Antarctic monastery to grow to be recognised as the one hundred and ninety-seventh country. Not to mention…”
“I think you mean, also to mention.” Noah is competitively quick to correct, followed infuriatingly with a ‘please continue’ gesture. A clever tactic to throw his opponent off before his closing argument.
Begrudgingly, Jason continues, “Also to mention that they are the authority in the fields of science and technology.”
“You going to tell me the Ants technology is one hundred years ahead of what they release to the public? Oh, and also to mention, the authority in illegal experiments and occult practices?”
“Noah, you want to quick-fire cherry-picked conspiracy theories to suit your argument then go right ahead, but it doesn’t negate the fact they have no unemployment, no prisons, and the strongest GDP of any country.” Boom.
“We’re talking about a country where there is no definition between church and state. They’re more segregated and secretive than North Korea. Fundamentalist extremists. The Church of Light might not be hurting anyone now, but history has taught us how these things usually end. These aren’t Buddhist monks minding their own business. This is a superpower hell-bent on the destruction of Earth and death to all non-believers.”
All Jason can respond with is, “Ahhhh...”
“Listen, Jas. Conspiracies or not, this is not something to dive into half-cocked. It’s just a big leap for a fly-boy from Ohio to a ‘Follower of the Light’.”
“Considering the current political, environmental and economic climate of today, nothing short of an apocalypse could inspire some actual change in this world.”
This is something that Noah actually agrees with him on. “I’m all for change brother, and dutifully respect your right to practice whatever crazy religion they’ll think up of next.” Noah knows that it is the last surviving practiced religion of the old Gods. The only doctrine with original manuscripts intact and verified. Even when the conversation is winding down he likes to get one last shot in. This time Jason bites.
“It predates all the Babylonian religions.”
Noah holds up his glass to toast. “Those as well. Cheers. To change. You’ve elevated yourself from a doomsday prepper to an extremist.”
“And you have descended from oblivious to denialist. Just, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jason is about to drink when he recognises a peculiar fellow from his sect sitting against the far wall. This person’s presence is a surprise, but not unexpected. A sign. One that Jason has been waiting for. He leans forward to grab his bag off the floor, lowering his voice, he leaves Noah with an honest and desperate plea, “You should consider going to Australia. As soon as you can.”
The peculiar man stands up and walks out the door, and with not as much as a goodbye Jason stands up and follows him out. Noah calls out but no one responds. He is left speaking to himself. “Not his strangest exit
to date.”
He finishes his drink, gets up slowly and wobbles towards the exit.
CHAPTER I
Noah
Continued…
Noah walks out of the bar looking for some sign of Jason but comes up short. He decides to take in the warm summer evening with a stroll down what passes as main street in this tiny coastal Argentinean town. Absent minded from the drinks and previous conversation he accidently approaches a Church of Light building with a Monk standing outside on the sidewalk, preaching in Spanish to an empty street. Noah only knows how to order drinks with this tongue, but anyway he is happy to miss whatever the preacher preaches.
“Now that the Moirai have united, all we wait for is the resurrection of the two brothers that will bring forth the time of great change.” He pauses his sermon as Noah is about to cross his path and deliberately stares at the pilot with eyes that pierce the soul. Noah looks away quickly but eye contact was made.
Damn.
Much to Noah’s displeasure, the preacher continues his public exclamation in English.
“This change will affect every corner and crevice of the globe. Your technology will fail, the earth will split and mountains will move, great waves of fire, water, and ash will wash over the land. The heavens will turn and the dead shall walk the earth. God has told us when this will happen and how to prepare for it so that we might survive it and rebuild. Then we shall behold the creation of a new world in God’s image.”
Noah shuffles past as hurriedly as he can and eventually he is out of ear shot. He stops to look at a high-tech television in a shop window advertising new Antarctican technology. Military Iron-Man suits, industrial 3D printers, advanced computer manufacturing, personal jet packs… It annoys him that he does find it remarkable. Entranced with technological possibilities, his imagination begins to run wild. While he may not agree with Jason’s life decision, he understands how one would find them alluring. Though steadfast and unconvinced, Noah sets foot for the long walk back to the barracks.
Still hours till Present Day
The sun rises over the ocean, the sharp light reflecting off the water with a squint-inducing luminosity. The air traffic control tower is the first to bathe in the morning daylight, soon followed by the barracks where the pilots and crew sleep. In neat orderly rows, partitioned with lockers, are the occupied beds of this lonely outpost. All except one bed, stripped back and absent of any evidence Jason was ever there. A light chorus of snores and groans fill the air as the soldiers begin to wake with the day. Noah is sleeping particularly heavy on account of last night’s bender. The long walk back hadn’t helped him sober up. This is a job for time, and a stiff morning coffee. The sudden obnoxious racket of Noah’s satellite phone pierces the low sounds of resting men, and after a dozen cycles breaks through the ringing in Noah’s ears, and he reluctantly rolls over to answer his phone. Struggling to generate enough saliva in his mouth to speak, he takes his time bringing the phone up to his ear. By some miracle he managed to get a whole word out, “Hello?”
One of the worst Australian accents he has heard, it is also the sweetest sound, one he has been craving for some time. “G’day sweet cheeks!” This was too loud for this early in the morning. The background noise alone was enough for him to want to pull the phone away from his sensitive ears, but he soldiers on.
“Baby? You drunk dialling me again?”
“You don’t have to be twenty-one here to go clubbing. Australia rules!” Noah flops back in his cot, closes his eyes and pictures his love. “Oh, did I wake you up? Sorry.”
Noah doesn’t mind one bit waking up to her voice. “Me, no, I’ve just come back from a ten-mile run. I do it every morning, at, five am.”
“Come on soldier boy, I thought all you lugs wake up early and stuff.”
Noah is beginning to wake up properly now, “It was Jason’s last night. He’s finally discharged. We had a few drinks at the local as a farewell.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Booboo, I know you liked him. Speaking of, you’ll never guess who I just met.” There’s a long pause while Noah’s rebooted brain struggles to filter through people they may know, failing to recognise the rhetorical nature of her drunk question. Katie finally breaks the silence with the answer, “Sarah!!! She’s this awesome Aussie…”
She is interrupted by Sarah proclaiming, “I’m from New Zealand, you dickhead!”
“What?”
The cacophony from the ear piece is suddenly muffled as if the phone is swimming around a handbag, random distorted laughter, then nothing but a familiar three beeps notifying him the call has ended. Noah slumps his arm over the bed and drops the phone on the ground. With his eyes now closed, he begins to fall back to sleep.
“This is the one you want to raise your children?”
Damn. Glen is awake.
“A real conversationalist.” Raythe is awake. Safe to assume everyone is awake now.
No need not to start the day then. “Breakfast?”
Being captain has its advantages.
CHAPTER I
Simon
The same morning…
Antarctica. Cold. The sun doesn’t set this time of year. Just slowly wobbles in the sky for weeks on end, teasing the idea to those on the ground that there might be a reprieve from the perpetual daylight. Not that it matters to Simon. A 12th generation Antarctican, his family has lived underground for over two hundred years, so the sun’s position in the sky is of no concern of theirs. His home is a network of subterranean cities that houses over six million loyal followers.
Simon is no older than eleven, your typical Antarctican. Short, pale, with dark hair, he is industrious and fiercely religious. Protégé to the head of the Church, Elder Sacro. This privilege allows him access through secure areas with a certain level of anonymity, one he has to be careful not to abuse. He can sense what the other elders think and does not want to push his luck. Elder Sacro however is a gentle, white-haired old man. Simon doesn’t know his exact age but has always wondered. His people have lengthy lifespans. He likes to think one hundred. Maybe one hundred and fifty. Not bad for the CEO of the largest corporation in the world, with over six million loyal employees. That’s even more than Wal-Mart. But these ones work for free; a collective that has spent the last two hundred years in service of a higher power. Efforts that, in a matter of hours, will come to fruition. Unaware of the specifics, Simon can still sense the crescendo building. Not to a big finish, but to a new beginning, just as their doctrine details. Desperate not to be left in the dark, over the past few days Simon has taken to shadowing Elder Sacro.
With the majority of his time spent in the Central Control Room--the nerve centre of their concealed sprawling facilities--Sacro observes the final chapter of his life’s work unfurl before him. The realisation of a prophecy thousands of years in the making. So focused is he that it takes the near violent tugging of his robe before he registers Simon standing next to him, desperate for his attention.
“Elder, can I get you breakfast?” It has been some time between meals, and Simon worked out that by delivering Sacro’s meals he can come and go with impunity.
“Yes child. That would be appreciated.” Sacro swivels his chair back to his monitor and returns to work. Maybe it’s the slowing of his aging reflexes, the narrowing of his vision, or the unwavering focus he has to his responsibilities but it is nearly a minute before he realises that Simon has not moved. He stops what he was doing and gives his protégé his undivided attention.
“How are the preparations going?” the eager young boy asks.
“Like clockwork, just as it was ordained. The Global Council of Elders are working on the final ritual as we speak.” This much Simon knows. He wants to be in the fold; the arrogance of youth and over-inflated sense of entitlement blinds his sense of judgement, but he is not all to blame. Sacro, to the dissatisfaction of many of the elders, has enabled many of these traits in the boy.
“So the bodies are ready then. The brothers will b
e reunited soon?”
“The maturation process is complete, so, sooner than you think,” teases Sacro.
The news makes Simon giddy. Try as he might to hide it, he fails, as children often do. “Wow. And the manufacturing plants? Are we meeting our quota? That’s a lot of clones…”
Sacro, catching eyes shooting daggers in his periphery, cuts the boy off. “You will one day be in charge of something very important, but that day is not today, unless you regard my hunger as important.” Simon misses the hint. “Run along and get me my breakfast as you so graciously offered. Remember, the answers will come to those who wait.”
“Of course. Yes Father.” Simon speeds off with purpose and determination. Sacro smiles as he watches him go. Having him around has reinvigorated something that has been dormant in the old man for many years. Vigour.
“Is it wise that the child be granted such liberal access to our intelligence?” lashes the elder stationed next to Sacro. Elder Desdom may be next in line to the throne, but there is still much for him to learn.
“I sense that he will have to carry a heavy burden and great responsibility one day. Perhaps if you did your exercises you would sense it as well.”
“I haven’t the luxury of time that others have,” complains Desdom.
Sacro, always ready to reply, does so. “The first thing you will learn is the art of mastering space and time. Then you will learn that time is not a luxury, it’s an abundance.”
“What we have set in motion... the logistics alone require my full attention. There can be nothing we haven’t accounted for if we are to ensure success, and this child is a liability. Factoring in his now potential interference is currently wasting valuable time that would be better spent facilitating all this.”
“Have faith in the prophecy and draw your strength from it. There is still so much to do.”
Simon has returned from the kitchen clutching a tray with an assortment of fruits freshly picked from the hydroponic bay, crystal clear water from the desalination plant, and a soy based protein stack.
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