Angels of Apocalypse, Part I: Alignment

by J. J. Harkin

  When they had been delivered back into the velvet interior of the Darkspire, Mosi hurried to the window – still trembling – to search for any further sign of the beast.

  “You will find nothing,” Talman assured him. “Do come and sit with me again. Have a bit more wine perhaps.”

  “What was that?” asked Mosi shakily. “How did you do that?”

  “I assure you, that was not the massive, black dragon your brain insists it just saw.”

  “Then what was it?” replied Mosi, seating himself once again.

  “It was CGI: a computer generated image.”

  “Like in the movies?” Mosi was still astounded.

  “Precisely, but rather than projecting it onto a screen, it was projected into our brains, so that we seemed to experience its full dimension in the air around us.”

  “And that is possible?”

  “Certainly, my friend. You saw it for yourself. A dragon suddenly appeared and then vanished, all by the twitch of a hand.”

  “But how?” Disbelief and understanding were warring in the mind of Mosi. “The capability to call forth such images must be far more similar to sorcery than science, Talman.”

  “Ah, but it is science.” Talman’s teeth sparkled as he smiled. “Amongst other things, I happen to own a Hollywood film company, and this is one of the technologies my best men have spun into reality for me. Obviously I’ve succeeded in shielding the masses from awareness that such things are possible, or you might already have heard of such things. You will see this is for a purpose.”

  “A purpose?”

  “Yes. I am sorry to have frightened you, Mosi, but it was necessary for you to understand the full scope of what I’m about to suggest.” Here Talman rearranged himself comfortably, reaching for his own glass of wine. “It seems to me that when technology reaches a certain pinnacle it often unintentionally penetrates the realm of spirit. This is the case with holographic technology. Though in truth there was no dragon circling us outside the tower moments ago, your body was unaware of the difference. You reacted as though you were in true danger because you could not see past my slight of hand. It is my mission to see that such powers are used properly.”

  “Technology has always tended to be a double-edged sword…”

  “Yes. Knowing this, I quickly arranged for all of the planet’s best scientists – excepting none – to be gathered together into my service to make this dream a reality. My certainty that the age of holograms is upon us implies both great danger and opportunity. For instance, what do you suppose the Americans might do if they had access to such powers?”

  “I suppose they would use them in battle, to create ruses and confuse their enemies.”

  “That does sound like something they might do, and such is precisely why it is so important that I be the first one to successfully crystallize the holography process. I know what I will do with it, and that is certainly preferable to not knowing what my enemies plan to do with it. The technology will be used to my advantage before any enemy is even aware such things are possible.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “We. I was hoping that we – the two of us – could do something with it.”

  “Fine, we. But what?” Mosi was beginning to feel quite curious.

  “We sit here in Iraq, a nation without a figurehead, and you are still capable of wondering such things? I told you I was in search of a caretaker, didn’t I?”

  “Me?”

  “Naturally. I am suggesting that we make you the new King of Iraq.”

  “King?”

  “Why not? It is the traditional way here. All of these presidents and prime ministers change places far too often due to elections. The idea of a king has a far more permanent, stable connotation to it. Know what I think?” As Mosi remained utterly dumbstruck, Talman plunged onward. “The Americans did the world a favor by unseating the Hussein regime, Mosi, they really did. But they served us better still by running out of cash and retreating back to their own territory. Now the door stands open for a strong leader, and I suggest we seize this priceless opportunity.”

  “You intend to finally defeat the capitalists for good, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “An admirable goal.” Mosi had to admit it: he was impressed. “But how exactly?” he finished.

  “Well, as I mentioned before, the Christians, who are invariably capitalist, believe that the world will have a definitive end to it, just like the Muslims do. They believe that there will be a calamitous war between good and evil, during which they must assure the victory of all they consider good. What I am suggesting is that we use this short respite between their invasions to scare them back into another war. The last one, which they basically entered into voluntarily, bankrupted all of Western society, turning princes all across their land into paupers. If they attempt another invasion while we have both the technological upper hand and continue to control the world’s oil supplies, it will be their final end. We must draw them back into our trap, and I suggest we do so by stinging their sense of religious piety.”

  “So you’re going to call them out? You’re going to convince them that refusing to do battle would be tantamount to bowing the knee to the devil himself?”

  “We. Yes, that is precisely what we are going to do. My plan is for you to claim the kingship – and perhaps godhood, if necessary – in order to unite all of the Middle East behind our standard. We will fight under the guise of the Antichrist, for the sake of both its Christian connotations and the fear this will inspire generally. We will unite every Arab, if it can be managed, and when our enemies arrive to stop us they will find us well prepared.” Talman was smiling, self-satisfaction evident in his every aspect.

  “I have one problem,” replied Mosi. “We Muslims also believe in the Antichrist – you know this. We refer to him as Dajjal, but the idea of him in our prophecies is not all that different from that of the Christian one.”

  “Yes and no,” continued Talman. “It is true that many Muslims believe in Dajjal, though he is not mentioned auspiciously in the Quran. It is also true that anyone claiming to be the Antichrist would certainly be treated with nothing less than fear and suspicion by any wise Muslim. However, you should know that I am a friend to many governments, and that I plan to speak well on your behalf. Even if the common folk suspect you, I assure you their leaders will not.”

  “But still! If the common folk are unwilling, how can you expect their leaders to publicly advocate for me under any circumstance? Doing so would be an insult to their people.”

  “Believe me, my dear friend Mosi, I have seen to all of this. You have already seen the wonders my technologies can perform. Can you think of no way in which they might be used to salve the fears of the masses?”

  “What, you plan to teach me how to cast the projections?”

  “With your permission, that is exactly what I plan to do. I will tutor you in the use of these technologies. It is not much more difficult than using a home computer. My Hollywood friends have prepared for us a stock of images so comprehensive that there will be no reality which we are incapable of imitating.”

  “Your plan is to use the holograms to capture the imaginations of the people, to unite them under one rule at last.”

  “Yes. You’ll have to admit it’s about time, Mosi. The Arab people have spent far too long bickering and fighting amongst themselves. If we are to defeat the Great Enemy, we must work together. So I suggest we make you the standard around which all unite, under my careful advisement of course.”

  Mosi remained unconvinced. “I still worry that impersonating the Antichrist is likely to turn even the most subservient of the people against me. You might be right that the charade could lead us to victory over the Crusaders in battle – especially if they march out prematurely – but I’m quite certain I’d be the next to go afterward if the Muslims remain convinced I am Dajjal.”

  “Don’t worry. I do have a plan for every contingency. If th
ey label you as Dajjal, then I don’t advise you to confirm or deny anything. Just continue to use the holographic techniques I will teach you to affirm your kingship and godhood. This will keep our enemies at a distance for some time, until I’ve had a chance to deal with them. Remember that you only have to play your own part in the passion play. I will take care of everything else.”

  “Yet I’d still never qualify as a valid Muslim leader under any circumstance!” replied Mosi, concern filling his face more than ever.

  “That is why I don’t plan to market you as a Muslim leader,” explained Talman. “Since this is Iraq – a land which stands on the borders of many religious traditions – I suggest we sell your rule as an atheistic autocracy. That way you’ll be able to claim religious neutrality in matters of state, and make your decisions on the basis of logic alone. There is no sanity in religious posturing anyway. Leave Islam aside for awhile, Mosi, at least until the good of the Arab people is assured. Islam itself is already splintered into many factions, so that no neutrality is possible if you claim it.”

  Talman was very persuasive, but Mosi remained unsure, for it seemed to him that there were other holes in the plan. “Alright, Talman. Yes. It might be possible to claim power on the basis of CGI illusions, but to hold onto power for any length of time would certainly require far more than that. Brute force must always remain an option in war.”

  “All in due time, Dajjal.”

  “Mosi!”

  “Whichever…” drawled Talman lazily, as thunder rumbled again away to the south.

  “Will you at least give me some hint as to how you intend to do all of this?”

  “Fine,” Talman sighed, “I will show you. Salome!” He looked around as he spoke to the darkness. The maidservant had been standing silently in the shadows the entire time, unseen. Her approach was without trepidation, and she bowed gracefully, her veil touching the floor. Mosi would have given anything at that moment to earn a peek beneath her feminine vestments. Her figure, as she stood, was nothing less than pleasing.

  “Now watch,” said Talman, raising his right hand.

  It happened very quickly. Click! Talman had snapped his fingers sharply, and repeatedly the little sound echoed across the chamber. A flash of distant lightning flickered across the faces of the two men as the limp body of Salome crashed to the floor, shattering a glass coffee table and lightly spattering them with bits of gore. Though aghast with terror, Mosi was just able to stop himself crying out or jumping up this time. He simply returned Talman’s dread smile – flecked with blood and dripping with fiendish satisfaction – hoping to communicate at least an air of grand indifference.

  “My question for you is this:” said Talman slowly, “Will you help me?”

  It was not a fair question, for Mosi responded perforce, nodding profusely. “Yes, I will help you, Mr. Ahmad.” Mosi had to stop himself wringing his hands as he said it, trying desperately to suppress fear. “Yes, Talman, I will help you bring about a lasting peace. We will unite the Middle East, and crush the Cross.”

  This was good news, so that Talman thought his face might crack from unsuppressed glee. “Excellent, Dajjal!” he said. Then he relented briefly. “Okay, okay. If you’d truly prefer it, we can still call you Mosi.” He appeared genuinely to be offering.

  Mosi knew what he must say, however, and wasted no time to respond: “Whichever…”

  Talman laughed. Things were going well. Another angel was in place.

  Internet Search It!

  For those interested in doing their own research, here are some search tags to get you started. Be aware, however, that the levels of the Internet which are available to commoners are more often populated by opinion than fact. Let your heart be your guide.

  Babel, Babylon

  The Christian Antichrist

  Description of Dajjal

  The Coming Mahdi

  Joseph Son of Jacob

  Ur, Sumeria

  Nephilim

  Tiamat

  Origin of Ariadne

  Spider Grandmother

  Phantom in the Green Zone

  It was night. The invisible man strolled easily through the worthless security checkpoint an hour before dawn. As Iraqi security forces now officially controlled the area, he might otherwise have gained admittance to Baghdad’s Green Zone without the need for any level of concealment, but such was not the plan. He turned back toward the checkpoint, taking in the long line of waiting vehicles beyond it, before prowling further.

  “Maut!” he hissed, and then repeated the word many times, as his index finger danced electrically between unsuspecting victims. First the security officers manning the checkpoint slumped to the ground, causing the alarmed passengers of a car still under inspection to gasp. They too lost control of themselves in the next second, and the driver’s head fell upon the steering wheel, adding a blaring car horn to the confusion of the moment. Then the next car was struck, and the next, until the invisible murderer felt certain this particular entrance to the Zone would remain clogged for some time.

  Laughing wickedly to himself, the interloper spun around to dash onward. A general had come to the door of the guard station to investigate the disturbance, but an accusing finger and the hiss of secret words stopped his heart as well. Rotating this way and that on the spot, the unseen terrorist quickly selected his next round of victims, as troops poured from every building to offer assistance. All fell dead, but none saw their attacker, as he remained shrouded beneath a cloak of technological prowess.

  He had spent the last couple hours victimizing Baghdad’s scant Christian neighborhoods in a leisurely sort of way, but this crowded place provided far better entertainment. With a guffaw of absolute power, the invisible man recommenced his determined stroll toward the defenseless embassies and military barracks which lay within. It would seem the hand of death itself had come to stalk the Green Zone. By sunup the last tattered vestiges of Iraq’s government would be completely erased, so that no resistance to the coming regime might find any representation among the living. The noose of a new power was tightening.

  Chapter VI

  SMOKE & MIRRORS

  The following day, viewers worldwide were treated to a completely unexpected speech during their evening news. Though the speech in question struck fear into the hearts of Westerners especially, nothing could be done about it. All efforts to control activities in the Middle East had already been exhausted. Both money and hope had run out, and once-outspoken pundits everywhere held their silence, disturbed by the turn the world had suddenly taken.

  Someone had set up a festive dais in Firdos Square, Baghdad, and this had quickly become surrounded by Darkwater troopers, reporters, and countless gawkers. Eventually a little man emerged alone, hobbling from motorcade to podium between bodyguards. A murmur swept the audience. Was this the man they thought it was? Already a shocked silence awaited his opening words, as Mosi Mukasa reached his destination.

  “Citizens of Iraq!” he began, addressing the growing crowd. “People of the Middle East! Do you recognize me?!” He applied great force to the words, peering around piercingly with his one good eye. The crowd did not hesitate to respond. A resounding cheer exploded back in Mosi’s face, such as nothing had since the battle of Jalalabad. Cries of “Mosi!” went up all around him like balloons.

  “Yes, my friends,” he continued. “Yes. It is I: Mosi Mukasa!” Here the roar of cries from the incensed audience actually startled him, but he maintained his cool. “I come before you today bearing good news!” The audience was already his captive; he could feel it. “It is a sign that I appear before you all today – a sign that the Great Enemy is finally to be put to death!” Astonished silence was the only response to this. It was a bold statement, like nothing they had heard in some time.

  “After the fall of the towers, my comrades and I were chased, hounded by the Americans. For years we suffered for our belief that capitalism is the great evil of which we were warned by the prophets! I w
as with My Lord when we were bombed at Tora Bora. But we escaped! And now the onslaught of the Americans has gone as flaccid as their whimpering President, pleading always for a peace which we know he has characteristically resisted at every turn!” Mosi was not sure, but the faces of the men whom peopled the square seemed to be brightening hopefully. What the women thought was anybody’s guess, as next to none of their faces could be seen.

  “And now I have returned!” continued Mosi. “Again I find myself in mother Iraq, so near to fair Iran where once I was raised. I tell you truly, my friends: I could never have guessed, during all my years in hiding, that the Great Enemy could ever have weakened to such a point, allowing me to freely walk the streets of the territories they formerly occupied. I stand before you today, a symbol of the folly which capitalism has visited upon the people of the Western world!” Again cheers broke the silence, but Mosi Mukasa was only warming up.

  “They exhausted their wealth in a vain attempt to direct the fate of the Middle East, and now receive their just compensations: poverty, impotence, and exile! They walk on the wrong side of justice, for providence rewards not the grasping attempts of the unworthy to usurp the inheritance of the Chosen, but jealously guards its own, faithfully keeping the promises of old. A new day is dawning, and a time of godly vengeance is at hand!” Their applause upon hearing this were deafening. He had them now. He was surprised at himself, never having expected that mob mesmerism might turn out to be one of his hidden talents.