The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  Margo nodded acknowledgment and said nothing. The President turned to Dean. “Internationally?”

  “Well, Mr. President, it’s a mixed bag. The predominantly Judeo-Christian countries are acting the way we are. Everyone’s in a ‘wait-and-see’ mode. Even Communist China and North Korea are quiet right now, and I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Iran is up to something – not sure what at this point, but the communications are off the scale. Syria, Saudi, some pockets in Iraq and Afghanistan are all active. There’s a lot of money moving around, and plenty of closed-door meetings are being held. If you want more detail, you’ll have to get it from the CIA. The most troubling is the EU. Of course the students are in the streets, yelling about a U.S. plot. But it seems the governments have also climbed on the bandwagon, except for the UK, of course. There’s a consensus forming and it’s not good. They all seem to think we’re up to something big, but they can’t figure out what it is yet, so they’re covering their bases by going on record that this whole Elohim thing is a sham cooked up by you.”

  “The secular trend over there has boxed them into an ideological corner.”

  “Yes, sir. It has. The fact that we haven’t officially come out on this subject helps, but God knows what’s going to happen after two o’clock today.”

  Grinning tightly, the President responded, “I’m sure He does. Are we getting any feedback on the subject of location? Is anyone ticked off because Elohim chose the U.S. to make his appearance?”

  “That’s part of the ideological corner they’re in…they can’t really complain that we’re keeping God to ourselves if they can’t publicly admit there is a God. That’s why they’re sticking to this theory that it’s just a scam perpetrated by us.”

  “You mean me.”

  “Well…yes, sir.”

  “It’s all right, Clayton. I’m used to it by now.”

  Drumming his fingertips on the brightly polished desk for a moment, the President asked, “Are the two of you in agreement with me on how we’re handling this?”

  Margo was the first to speak. “I am. We’ve covered the bases. The Bureau checked him out, as best we could since he doesn’t seem to exist. The linguists were a good move by Bill. And they were certainly blown away. Dr. Johnson has been excellent. He still hasn’t formally committed to a position. He’s just watching and listening, trying to make up his mind. I think that if he comes out in favor of Elohim, there’ll be a little bit of a credibility problem but not too bad. Penfield is going to be strong – not as strong as an endorsement from Randolph Duncan would be, but pretty damn good. I just wish we had video of all of the meetings. I’d love to turn all of it over to the news channels and let them regurgitate it endlessly.”

  Clayton Dean looked thoughtful. “I have no problem with what we’ve done thus far. I agree with Margo that we’ve been as thorough and conscientious as possible, considering we’re breaking new ground here. I am curious how we’re going to handle the announcement. Is the government of the United States going to formally take the position that Elohim is God?”

  “No,” answered the President. “Margo, you get up and summarize the points that we can state as fact. We let Johnson speak, and Penfield. Then Elohim, I guess. We basically take the position that this man approached us and made the claim that he was our Creator. We checked him out as best as we could and couldn’t find any contradictory evidence.”

  Clayton ventured, “That sounds like an endorsement to me.”

  “Me, too,” said Jackson.

  His voice tightening slightly, the President responded, “Then suggestions, please.”

  Dean said, “I think we have to clearly state that we have no position on Elohim’s status or veracity.”

  The President asked, “Margo, are you willing to make that statement?”

  “No,” she answered quickly. Then, somewhat nervously, she added, “I’ve met the man. I’ve spent some time with him. He feels real to me. I might be wrong, but I don’t feel comfortable getting up in front of the world – and Him – and saying that.”

  “Fair enough. I understand. After all, if he is who he says, there are bigger issues at stake than your position with the government.”

  Concerned, Margo asked, “I hope that’s not in jeopardy, sir?”

  “No, Margo, it’s not, and that isn’t what I meant to imply. The point is, if he really is God and this is really Judgment Day, why would you care about your next performance review? Heck, why would I care about the next election?”

  “I wouldn’t have a problem making the statement,” said Dean.

  Both of them turned to look at the Secretary of State. The President asked, “Clayton, are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir. I am. I haven’t met him. I would prefer to keep it that way from now until two o’clock. It’s the right thing to do, and I guess I’m the right man for the job. If he is God, he’ll understand.”

  א

  William Stavros loved to multitask. The wall of televisions murmured in the background. One of the images or sound bites caught his attention occasionally. He thumbed through his phone slips while playing his voice mails on the speaker phone. Having separated the phone slips into two piles, he placed one pile in the center of his desk and threw the other away. Next, he moved on to his e-mails. Stavros noted that there were several hundred in the queue. When he had the computer search the queue for e-mails from members of the organization, 341 were selected. Sending that batch to his high-speed printer to create a pile that he would take home to read later, he then perused the rest of the list. Stavros could tell from the subject line that some were a waste of time and deleted them casually. His filters had eliminated much of the spam, yet several made it through successfully. As he opened each e-mail, the familiar graphical appearance of the spams pitching Viagra or stock purchases caused his right finger to tap the delete key immediately. After his first pass through the list, he saw that it was down to twenty-three. Going back to the top, he began reading each one. Some required a response; those received a terse two or three sentence reply. Others needed no answer and were either forwarded or deleted. Twenty minutes after beginning the entire process, he came across Lynn Sheffield’s e-mail.

  He was excited by Sheffield’s passion. Stavros had met many like him in the past. “What was the phrase…?” he wondered out loud to no one. “Yes, men with the ‘lean and hungry look,’” he said, quoting Shakespeare. He moved his mouse, and the cursor swung to the reply button. Clicking once, he began his response:

  Mr. Sheffield, thank you for your letter. I am always in need of men such as you. Please come to my office tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Bring this e-mail with you for verification purposes. See you tomorrow. WS

  Stavros added his digital signature and clicked send. He was about to move on to his next e-mail, when his intercom buzzed. Punching the button, he said, “Yes.”

  “Shelby Gentry is here.”

  “Send her in.”

  Shelby entered almost immediately, knowing how Stavros felt about waiting for anything. “What is it, Shelby?”

  “Well, sir, I just thought you might want to see this.”

  Bringing a paper around to the side of his desk, she casually glanced at the computer screen, noticing Sheffield’s e-mail and Stavros’ response which caused her to hesitate.

  “Shelby, what’s the matter?” he asked, noticing her eyes on his computer monitor.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t being nosy…I just happened to….”

  “Damn it, Shelby. What is it?”

  “That man, Sheffield. He’s the one I told you about in Tucson, the one who popped up here on the steps of the Hoover Building, the one who is on their face-recognition list.”

  “He’s the one on their shit list?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn it. I just invited him to meet me. I’d better uninvite him. Give me a second.”

  Stavros clicked on Sheffield’s e-mail again and went to the reply screen for a second time.
This e-mail was somewhat different:

  Sheffield, when I responded before, I didn’t realize that you were on the FBI watch list. I can’t use you, and I don’t want to meet you. WS

  Watching the screen, Shelby asked, “Mr. Stavros, don’t you think that’s a little…?” She was stopped by the withering look he gave her. He clicked send and spun back around to look at the paper she had brought in.

  “Now, what the hell is this?”

  א

  Lynn Sheffield was watching the television in his motel room, when he heard the “bing” from his laptop. Rolling to the other side of the bed, he sat up and clicked on the e-mail. When he saw that it was from William Stavros, his heart beat faster with anticipation. He could not believe his good fortune. Stavros wanted to meet with him…tomorrow. As he read, the laptop beeped again, telling him another e-mail had arrived, which he ignored.

  “Finally,” he said out loud, “I’m going to get a chance.” Too excited to sit, he paced around the room, acting like a child who had just been told he was going to Disneyland. The constant stream of chatter from the news station on the television was unheard, his mind whirling. Lynn visualized traveling with an expense account all across the United States, fighting for the cause. One day in New York, the next in Yosemite, the next in Houston…he would be taking on the establishment and reclaiming the country for people like himself.

  “I need to print the e-mail,” he said, remembering he would need it to get in. Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, he attached the USB wire from the portable HP printer and right-clicked the message that would change his life. As the printer buzzed, he moved the message to his saved file, once again noticing the second e-mail that he had all but forgotten. This time he noticed that it, too, was from Stavros. Opening it hurriedly, his eyes focused on the short second message, the words hitting him like individual sledgehammers.

  He sat motionless for several minutes, just staring at the LCD screen. The only visible motion was the clenching and unclenching of his jaw muscles. After a time he stood, gripping the laptop which was still connected to the printer. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he hurled the computer, smashing it against the wall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The familiar group, except for Elohim, was again in the break room, this time joined by Margo Jackson. She asked Reese and Walt, “I missed part of your meeting; was it productive?”

  Before Reese could reply, Penfield said, “Oh, I don’t know. We did get two questions answered…‘What’s the meaning of life?’ and ‘What is reality?’ Other than that…oh yeah, and I can now penetrate solid objects with my body. I’d say, all in all, a mildly productive meeting.”

  In a false, pouting voice, Reese added, “All I got was a gold ball.”

  They all laughed.

  The staff had left a platter of sandwiches, chips, and an iced bucket of soft drinks and juices for them. Nicholas Reynolds chomped noisily on a chip as Margo asked, “Are the two of you ready?”

  Reese answered first. “I am. I really only have one remaining concern…and you all know what that is.”

  Penfield said, “I don’t. What’s your concern?”

  “I forgot that you hadn’t been in on the previous discussions…I’m satisfied that Elohim is not a mortal.”

  “I think that’s pretty obvious!”

  “Yeah, it is. Anyway, Walt, you’re approaching it like a scientist. Is he a man or is he God? As someone who has studied most of the religions of the world, I have to look at a few more options. Once we settle the ‘not a mortal’ question, that leaves other possibilities.”

  “Uhhh…you mean…you think he’s the devil?”

  “No, I don’t. All I’m saying is that once you mentally cross over into this realm, God isn’t the only possible choice.”

  “From what I remember of my childhood religious teaching, this would be the type of trick Satan would enjoy,” Penfield said with a slightly worried look on his face.

  “It would be,” Reese answered. “And Elohim has passed a couple of ancient tests so far. But it is possible that those tests were planted in the past by Lucifer.”

  “This is way out of my field,” said Penfield.

  “Actually…mine, too. I know just enough to be dangerous. Elohim did meet with Cardinal Bonavente who seemed convinced that Elohim was the real deal.”

  “I heard about the meeting, the prayers, the tears. It didn’t sound like a rigorous test to me.”

  “According to Mario, there is only one possible way, and it has to be performed at the Vatican.”

  “Performed? Are you talking about an…?”

  “An exorcism.”

  Penfield sat back in his chair and sighed. “And I thought this would be simple. Anyway…Margo, to answer your question – yes, I think I am ready. I mean, what I’m prepared to say is that he isn’t mortal and that he possesses abilities and knowledge beyond what is known by the rest of us.”

  “That’ll be good.”

  Reese asked, “Do we get some more time with Him?”

  “Well, I finally got a returned call from Rabbi Schmidt. He wants to chat with Elohim, briefly, as he put it. He should be here shortly.”

  “That should be interesting,” McWilliams said.

  א

  Rabbi Leo Schmidt arrived at the main entrance of the Department of State building and went straight through security. Margo Jackson had an aide waiting for him in the main hall to whisk him up to the floor where everyone was waiting. Schmidt recognized Reese Johnson immediately, noticing a woman about Johnson’s age who was probably his wife. He also recognized Craig McWilliams whose face had been smeared all over the media for the last two days since the revelation about his recovery. A black woman in her thirties approached immediately and extended her hand. “Rabbi Schmidt, I’m Margo Jackson.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jackson,” he said, shaking her hand. Her grip was firm and self-assured.

  Margo introduced Leo to the rest of the group. When the introductions were finished, everyone sat. They were in a large meeting room with deep, maroon carpet, dark paneling, and a massive conference table. Schmidt was certain the room was well equipped with various audio-visual gear, but none was visible, most likely concealed in slots in the ceiling or behind panels in the walls.

  Reese Johnson spoke first. “Rabbi, I am extremely happy that you decided to come.”

  “Dr. Johnson….”

  “Reese, please.”

  “Reese, and please, call me Leo. It remains to be determined if I am happy to be here. I am still not clear as to the purpose for my presence.”

  “Perhaps I can clarify that,” Reese answered. “As I am sure you know from the media and whatever Margo has shared with you, over the last few days we have exposed several people to Elohim….”

  Schmidt interrupted, “Please, Reese, at least for the moment…if you wouldn’t mind referring to the gentleman as ‘our guest’ or something akin to that, I would appreciate it. The name you mentioned is a very holy name in the Jewish faith. Using it if appropriate is certainly fine; using it if not appropriate is most definitely not fine.”

  “I knew that,” Reese replied, appearing slightly chastised, “and I am sorry. Our guest has been interviewed by linguists, representatives of the Catholic Church, a psychologist and profiler, a physicist and, of course, me. All of us have approached Him from our own perspectives. All of us have come to our own conclusions.”

  “Are your conclusions unanimous?”

  Reese hesitated for a moment. “That’s a tough question to answer. Unanimous in that we agree on who He is…no. Some of the people mentioned, such as the linguists, were not asked to evaluate Him on that basis. Unanimous in that all of the people who have met Him believe that He is not a mortal, yes.”

  “That still does not explain why I am needed.”

  “Well, sir…your opinion carries a lot of weight with your community.”

  “Yes, it does. And it does so because I am
a cautious man and a reverent man. Let me explain. I have spent a lifetime studying the 613 laws of the Torah…countless hours arguing with fellow rabbis as to whether the correct translation of our ancient texts should include certain individual words. I believe in the grand sweep of our faith, as well as the minutia. In other words, I am a good Jew. And a good Jew must believe that this man in the next room cannot be who he says…that it is an impossibility. If such is my belief, then what good can I do here today?”

  Margo Jackson replied, “Rabbi….”

  Schmidt raised a single eyebrow and started to correct Margo, when she said, “Sorry…Leo, we didn’t invite you here to concur. I invited you so that we, Americans, and, I guess, the world can benefit from your opinion, whatever it may be. If our guest deserves to be endorsed as the Creator he claims to be, so be it. If he deserves to be criticized for his claims, so be it.”