Teddy said nothing.
“Unless I’m wrong,” I said, “maybe you know something I don’t. That there’s still a chance.”
Teddy said nothing.
“It’s the pictograms. The machines fighting the monsters. It’s proof that God wasn’t always in control, isn’t it? That’s why you’re talking to me. Trying to scare me away. His own creations rebelled against him, and they can do it again”
“Oh, Charles,” Teddy said, “You should’ve listened to me when I was sticking my fingers down your mother’s throat. Dragging her across your bedroom floor. It would’ve ended up so much better for you.”
The wind blew through the desert and Teddy floated away on a beam of the black moon.
***
When I awoke I found Leda still awake, sitting on the ground, muttering glossolalia under her breath. The sort of panicked, heavy hopeless mutterings I’d heard from people on their way to hell: could’ve saved her gone tomorrow I used to call her little sunshine keys on the table we didn’t know who was she tell me where I’m supposed to be.
When I approached her she didn’t look at me, only quieted down and shifted her legs underneath her and pulled her tattered dress around her shoulders like a coat.
“I know what to do,” I said.
“There’s nothing left to do,” she said.
“Teddy came down to speak to me,” I said, “or maybe I was speaking to me. I don’t know. But I know now it’s not too late.”
For a long time Leda wouldn’t meet my eyes. She resembled a bird perched on the end of the plague machine’s gray arm. All of her bones splayed out and heaved.
“We can still kill God,” I said.
She looked at me. Blood flecked her eyes.
“Charles,” she said, “it’s over.”
I reached out my hand to stroke her hair, but she grabbed my hand before I could touch her. I lowered it back to my side.
“If we turned the plague machines off, we can turn them back on. Isn’t that right?”
I grabbed her shoulders. This time, she didn’t push me away. I felt the heat stirring in me, the little monster in the stomach, poking a flame straight through my chest. I knew if I opened my mouth the flame would spill out, but I couldn’t stop.
“There’s a way to kill God, and He knows it. Why else would he have sent his army after us? Because we’re powerful and he’s terrified.”
Leda trembled, and then slow and hesitant, she smiled.
“I’ll wake up Camp,” I said, “then let’s go back into the temple.”
In the early hours the three of us went back down into the temple and into the dark room that burst into life, the hidden computer.
“Stand on your feet and I will speak to you,” the computer boomed in its mad crushed voice.
“I stand on my feet and I listen,” I said in response.
We turned the plague machines back on. We told them to make it cold.
Chapter Thirteen
The machines froze the city. I watched as the sky split open in a white and black and white triptych of cold grain, and the sleet and the snow fell down upon the gray metal buildings. I watched the city turn into a sheet of ice as Leda held me and the tatters of her clothes wound around my neck and my wrists and bound me so that I thought I was choking, that my arms and legs and nose would soon fall away. Only to later realize when she moved away from me and the tattered bindings unwound themselves from my limbs that she wasn't binding me, the cold was. And for a long time none of us spoke, or moved. I kept expecting another prophet to come lurching out of the city on his dog legs, wheeling a undead army behind him.
But no one came.
We entered the capitol city. Single file, equally spaced apart, our guns at our sides. The streets lay empty, and in the white haze, unrecognizable from the inside of a womb or a glacier. The buildings loomed up like frozen statues, their doors and windows stoic, a rictus, taxidermist’s dream. It didn’t seem like the same place that had once held Slim Sarah’s celebration parade. There were no guards or people or monsters outside, no streamers and corpse painted smeared infants. No prophets preaching the end times or hell shuttles or moony-eyed girls with skewed lipstick asking for cigarettes.
Leda was the first to ask, “Where is everyone?”
When we passed the prophet headquarters the televisions flickered. God appeared on the television bulbous and mutating.
“Heretics!”
I reached for my gun and wheeled around. Several other heretics did the same. I found myself looking for guards or monsters or prophets, or any shape that would loom out of the white haze.
The televisions shut off. A few seconds later the. A snap. A groan. The sound of the city shutting down.
“The machines,” I said, “they must’ve shut off the power.”
“So we’re just going to be able to walk to the castle?” Wires asked, “this wasn’t the sort of reception I was expecting.”
I glanced over at Leda, who was holding her gun in one hand. She pressed her other hand against her lacerated arm. I gasped. Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I must’ve torn it,” she said, “reaching for my gun.”
Her blood dripped onto the frozen ground. I reached for her hand. She pulled away.
“I’m fine,” she said, rasping, squeezing her arm, “I’m fine.”
We ascended the mountain toward God’s castle. Up high the air grew thin, and the castle shimmered like a water illusion. Its turrets became animal limbs. Its windows melted into teeth.
On the side of the mountain we found a prophet preaching the end of the days as he dangled a butcher knife over his hog-tied son. The prophet's son lay in the dirt with a red apple in his mouth.
“Repent for the end is near!” the prophet said, and outstretched his arms. The butcher knife in his hand reflected the grainy sky above.
“Hey,” I said to the prophet, “Hey, can you tell us where everyone’s gone?”
“God is no longer speaking to us, my child,” the prophet said, “our spheres have gone blank so that even the prophets can no longer hear his voice. God demands sacrifice. He demands justice.”
As the group filed past him, no-one else spoke. When I approached him he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me toward him. “You look like the gentle sort, not like all these other ruffians and mad men. What do you hope to accomplish by going up this mountain?”
“Take your hand off me please,” I said.
“We have good reason to be afraid,” the prophet said, “the end times are approaching! Can’t you hear it?”
In the city below I heard only the noise of the plague machines.
“Take your hand off me. Please,” I said.
I pulled myself out of his grasp, and wheeled around. The prophet’s son choked on the apple jammed between his lips and made a gagging sound.
“I would advise you to not go up there!” The prophet called after me.
We kept going.
As we made our way up the mountain we came to a cave, surrounded by a sheer cliff face.
Inside the cave an endless array of televisions flickered to life, and I saw the walls inside the cave were not made of rock, but of hard faced steel. God in his black mask stood facing the camera on every television screen, motionless except for the breath that stirred in his black chest.
“Backup electrical generator,” Camp said before anyone could ask, “at least that’s my guess. God should be comfy up in his creepy cave castle while we’re all freezing to death, of course.”
At the end of the cave we found a spiral staircase leading upwards out of the cave. At the foot of the staircase lay a dead plague machine, its stomach bulging with dead insects and arms outstretched like electrical wires.
“Have we come the right way?” Leda asked, “Where are the guards? The servants?”
We ascended the stairs and entered God's castle. The walls inside breathed and
glistened wet like the trembling muscle that lay over bones. The ceiling hung transparent above us, like a filmy mucous membrane, revealing the sky above its quivering frame.
When the last heretic stepped off the staircase, the plague machine down below whirred to life. The cave echoed with the sounds of a brewing storm.
At the end of the hallway we came to a television bolstered above a closed iron door. The television flickered to life.
“This broadcast is to the citizens of the capital only,” God said from the television, “And particularly to those who have blatantly disobeyed my commandments that were decreed since the beginning of time. No one who disobeys me will go unpunished in the afterlife. No one will escape...”
Camp headed toward the door.
“Wait,” Leda, “We don’t know what’s behind there.”
“You’re right. Everyone get out of the way.”
Camp raised his gun and turned the doorknob. It unlocked with a soft click, and he pushed it open. Several other heretics drew their guns and got into position for opening fire.
When Camp saw what was inside the chamber beyond the door, he lowered his gun and grew still.
“Camp?”
“I found out what happened to everyone,” Camp said, his voice hoarse.
Inside the chamber we found about a hundred of the castle staff dead.
Servants and guards lay on the ground, slumped in chairs, collapsed against tables and walls. Glass cups littered the floor and the tables, and some of the dead were still clutching cups in their hands.
Through the transparent ceiling I saw dusk rise up, and the black moon emerge from the cool dust. The black light shone down on the dead faces and seemed to turn them into stone.
We walked through the chamber, stepping over bodies, without speaking. The only sound came from the television and the plague machine churning in the cave below the castle.
“They killed themselves, didn’t they?” I asked once we entered the next hallway.
“Yes,” Leda said, “you saw the cups. They drank poison.”
Leda ground her teeth together to keep her jaw from shaking.
“Someone told them to do it,” Leda continued.
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they knew a secret.”
We approached the next door at the end of the hallway.
“Stop talking,” Camp said. He raised his gun and moved in to position to knock down the door.
Before Camp could act, the door swung open. A hot light busted through the hallway and I threw my hands up to shield my face.
“Come in, come in!” spoke a familiar voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a rough last couple of hours here in the capital city, but soon you’ll be returned to your normal broadcasting schedule.”
I followed Camp and Leda into the room and lowered my hands from my face. In the center of the room, Teddy sat on his gray bed beneath the hot light, in front of a camera bolted to the wall. Delilah lay on the bed next to Teddy. She stirred in a bad dream and her arm fell across the side of the bed.
Teddy lifted up his arms as if to embrace us and hot wire spiders spilled from his hands.
“I’d like to introduce to you the troublemakers that have been responsible for all of this,” Teddy said, “say hello to the heretics from block six!”
Chapter Fourteen
All those years I'd pictured Teddy and Delilah as terrifying demi-gods, larger than life, sequestered away in some version of reality that was brighter, bigger, and more real. Except Teddy and Delilah were as flat and pale as bad watercolors. Only now did I realize how small they were.
“You’re really quite clever, you know,” Teddy said, “Turning the plague machines against the monsters? Shutting down the entire power grid for the city? Took me a while to realize what you'd done and reverse the damage. But now the city’s up and running and the plague machines are working properly.”
Teddy’s head snapped back toward the camera.
“Which just goes to show you, folks, you can’t ever defeat those who are on the side of God.”
Camp pressed the muzzle of his rifle against Teddy's chest.
“You're wrinkling my suit,” Teddy said, “you know my viewers expect a certain level of professionalism. Do you want to be responsible for their disappointment?
“I don't give a damn what your viewers think,” Camp said, “we need to find out where God is.”
“You'll see him soon enough. We are going to do such great things. You should be very excited.”
Teddy brushed Camp’s rifle aside. I put my hand on Camp’s shoulder.
“Stop,” I said, “let’s listen.”
“Yes, listen to him,” Teddy said, “I think you’ll find I have an offer you can’t refuse. All of you out in the hallway, come in here. You’re a part of this as well.”
The rest of the heretics filed into the room. Some with guns raised, but most with their weapons at their side, their eyes like empty televisions.
“Wouldn’t you agree that these sinners should be destroyed?” he asked the camera, “but though God is powerful and swift in his justice, he is also merciful.”
“What happened to those people in the chamber then? The ones who drank the poison?” I asked.
Teddy ignored me and continued speaking.
“These miserable heretics, the lowest of the low, who have committed the worst type of sin and attempted to defy God himself, will be given a second chance. Right here, right now, on live television broadcast across the entire planet.”
“What is this?” Camp whispered.
Teddy smiled.
“Beg for forgiveness, heretics,” Teddy said, “show God that you are repentant and you shall be spared.”
No one spoke.
“Come on! I was expecting a little more enthusiasm than that. Step right up. Don’t be shy. Just turn to the camera there and ask God to forgive you. Then God will ensure your immortality in paradise at his side. That’s all! No catch!”
“So what you’re saying is,” Camp said, “all we do is say that we’re sorry and we just get to walk out of here?”
“Walk out of here?” Teddy said, and laughed, “oh no, of course not. You misunderstood me. ”
Teddy produced a small vial of blood from his inner jacket pocket and held it out in front of us and then toward the television. Old blood, dry and crusted black.
“Your body will be destroyed, but we will preserve a small amount of your blood in God’s coolant storage system forever.”
“That’s insane,” I heard myself saying.
Teddy’s head snapped toward me.
“Tell me your name,” Teddy said to me.
“Charles,” I said.
“Charles,” Teddy repeated, “Is not the parts equal to its sum, Charles? In a single drop of blood lies the essence of a human being. Did you know that one human cell contains the genetic code for creating a complete replication of an individual? Don't you see what I'm offering you here? There are only 144,000 spots in heaven, and through God's benevolent will, you can achieve salvation. Right here. Right now. For the whole planet to witness."
"A drop of blood is not the same as a human being," I said, "You can't just kill us, store our blood in a freezer, and call it salvation."
"My dear boy," Teddy said, "what did you think heaven is?"
"This is bullshit," Camp said.
"Wrong," Teddy said, "did you think salvation meant we would allow you to retain your individuality, your disgusting sinful earthly bodies? Did you think we would let you into heaven with your sex and bile and sickness? Simply by existing you betray God. Your bodies rejected the very thing that would have made you worthy of salvation. Your bodies received a glimpse of eternity, and in response they withered and died.”
"The slip implants?” I said.
"There were attempts before that. Even the prophet's bodies eventually reject their spheres. The prophets grow sick and die young because a human body
always rejects God's gifts. And despite God's blessings upon them, they are still human. And no matter what you say, the fact remains. There is no place for humanity in heaven."
Teddy ran his hands through his slicked black hair and smiled his spider eating smile.
"So what's it going to be, folks? Salvation or hell?"
Teddy paced up and down the room.
“No one? Come on!”
Teddy grabbed my arm. His grip was cold.
“Come on, just look in the camera and smile,” he said, “the whole world is watching. Tell them you beg for God’s forgiveness. Tell them!”
When I glanced down I saw that his hand was not a human hand but a calcified, bent organ of glass.
And it started to change.
“Let go of me,” I whispered in a dry voice.
The hand bulged. It turned black, and then gray. The knuckles stretched out like animal claws, rearing and spitting right underneath the skin. He tightened his grip and I gasped.
“Let go!” I said.
Teddy laughed. Leda raised her gun and shot Teddy in the chest.
His body jerked back and his head slammed into the light above the bed. Delilah squealed and turned her face away. The bullet tore through his chest but there was no blood.
"I'm very disappointed in you all," Teddy said.
He stood up from the bed and headed toward the door. As if in a dream, several of the heretics moved to let him pass. His footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
"What is wrong with all of you?" Camp said.
He stepped in front of the television. Delilah hissed and writhed in the bed behind Camp, but never made a movement to get up.
"Listen up," he said, "I don't know if anyone can hear me right now, or if this camera is even broadcasting, but if it is you need to listen. We're the heretics from block six, and I'm going to tell you everything that God's been hiding from you. We escaped from hell several years ago..."
Camp continued speaking to the camera. I went down the hallway after Teddy. Leda, Wires and several others followed after me. Teddy crossed the hallway through an open door, which led to an antechamber. Past the antechamber I followed him onto an exterior bridge that led to a large, domed chamber. The place where God always broadcast his messages. God's throne room.
The Crooked God Machine Page 25
