The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  Margo sighed deeply and slowly, saying, “And now He is here. And He is reasserting His…what…power?”

  “His existence! That’s the point I was starting to make. Governments can only deny religion, manipulate religion for their own purposes, create competing religions, and tout leaders who claim to be a son of God if He isn’t around. And the longer He was gone…the more they all whittled away at everyone’s belief. I mean…think about it. The scientists have screamed for years that there was no physical proof there was a God, that engaging in the God delusion was a mental defect. They even showed us MRI images of the specific region of the brain that was malfunctioning and causing this craziness. Over the centuries, the belief in God survived threats of execution, persecution, exile, imprisonment, ostracism, and ridicule…all without a single shred of reinforcement from Him. No wonder, in the college-level history classes, we all talked about religion as this quaint superstition that governments had to compete with for the hearts and minds of their citizens.”

  “Reese says we were brainwashed.”

  “He’s right. We all thought we were so cool, so enlightened. We weren’t going to be the slaves of some oppressive dogma; we were going to rise above all of that. And what did this so-called enlightenment get us? Without God we’ve got nothing left but our own selves. Women and men are getting more plastic surgery than ever. We go to all-day health spas. We drop our children off from morning till night at day-care centers so we can pursue our dreams. It’s all just narcissism.”

  “Narcissism without any personal responsibility,” Margo added.

  “You’re right. In fact…it’s almost as if, in our own minds, we’ve replaced God with ourselves. How else can you explain suing McDonald’s because you spilled scalding coffee on yourself? That’s like a child’s view of being God…punishing all those who displease you. Well, personal responsibility was suddenly reintroduced today. Elohim made it clear: there is no one to blame but yourself if you’re not going to Heaven. It doesn’t matter whether you were born wealthy or dirt poor…your color doesn’t matter…gender…just your choices! Boy, that must be driving some people crazy right now. You can’t claim to be a victim of your own choices.”

  “They’ll find a way. They’ll say that they would have made different choices if they had better parents.”

  “Or if we had only given more money to teachers!”

  “More nutritious lunches.”

  Clayton stared thoughtfully at the wall behind Margo, saying, “But deep down, we know that’s not true. It really has been about our choices.”

  Margo, sensing the change in his voice asked, “We? Our?”

  Without speaking, Clayton uncurled the fingers on his right hand, displaying his blank palm.

  Before Margo could think of a response, there was a soft “beep” from Dean’s desk. Reaching over, he punched the button. “Yes, Francine.”

  “We just received something from the NSA office; they want you to see it right away.”

  “Bring it in.”

  A moment later the door opened, and Clayton’s secretary entered with an envelope, handing it to him. As she exited, pulling the door closed behind her, he ripped off the seal and dumped the contents on his desk, a single sheet of paper and a DVD. He read the paper.

  “NSA just picked this up from Al Jazeera. It seems our friend Mohammed has made a statement.”

  Dean slid the DVD into a player and turned on the ubiquitous TV that every government office seemed to have. Nearly immediately, the familiar face of America’s infamous enemy appeared on the screen. As usual, he spoke while sitting before a gray cloth so that no indication of his whereabouts would be visible in the picture. An NSA linguist had typed the English translation at the bottom of the screen as he spoke:

  “Blessing to Allah. Today the infidels of the Great Satan United States exposed themselves as never before. They have put before us a man who claims to be God. They tell us that this evil being can heal the sick and bring back the dead. These surely are lies…only Allah can do these things, and if Allah had come to Earth, would He have chosen to arrive in the cesspool that is the United States? No. He would have come to His people.

  “There can be only two explanations. The first is that this is nothing but another trick from the infidels of the Great Satan to attempt to sway the world over to their side and to cause some of the faithful to doubt the Prophet. They have used their electronic wizardry to create this fantasy, just as they do with all of the sinful movies they create. They are fools, and this will never happen. The world is wiser than the United States and will see through this ruse. The faithful will not doubt. The words of the Prophet burn like a fire within our hearts, and that fire devours all doubt. The second explanation is that the infidels of this evil land called America, who have descended into the pit of sin with their hedonism, have finally summoned the evil one – Satan himself – to assist them and to rule them.

  “They have not been able to harm us with their rifles and bombs. They will not harm us now. We will show them…and the world…that just as we have already defeated the United States…with Allah riding with us…we will also defeat Satan himself. They must be punished for this blasphemy.”

  The translation continued as he finished his speech with the mandatory blessings. Dean turned to Margo and said, “I was wondering what direction he would go on this.”

  “Now we know.”

  א

  Kathy Crocker sat at her twelve-foot-long teak desk, elbows resting on the edge, as she stared at her palm. “How can this be?” she said aloud, although alone. Throughout her career she had faced challenges and travails. The entertainment magazines covered it all – the loss of her husband, and two years after that, the drug overdose of their only child. Yet, she thought, she had pressed on through, shaking off the losses and redoubling her efforts to move up within the network. Especially after the death of her son, her ratings on the news feature “magazine” had skyrocketed. When the evening news anchor came up, she was the obvious choice.

  And, she thought, she had faced everything with courage. People had put her on the cover – a picture, taken by one of the photographers invited to her son’s funeral, where she looked particularly grief stricken, with the caption “Courage Personified.”

  “And Thorndike!” she blurted. “How in the hell could Barry Thorndike be going?” Crocker saw him as a weak simp, actually leaving the network high and dry for more than a year after his wife died. ‘He’s still milking it,’ she thought, ‘bringing up her death today and looking misty-eyed about it.’ Having a profound revelation, she realized, ‘That’s it. He’s jealous of me. He saw how I’ve moved up, and now he’s playing his wife’s death…thinking the sympathy will work for him, too.’

  An electronic tone from the intercom interrupted her thoughts. “What?” she snapped.

  “We’re coming back from the locals in three minutes, Ms. Crocker.”

  “You don’t think I know that? I can read a clock,” she snapped again.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Crocker,” answered Justin, who was her twenty-year-old assistant and a former male model.

  Getting up from her $4,300 ergonomic chair, custom designed to her torso, she rounded the desk and hurried through the door. Her office was just steps from the set and she was at her seat within thirty seconds, just in time for a makeup artist to toss a towel across her shoulders and begin applying powder to her cheeks to smooth the makeup creases she had created during the break.

  Thorndike was already at his seat, listening to his earbud and staring at the various video feeds, trying to get a feel for what was happening around the country as well as the international locations that were being covered. She looked at his back balefully. ‘What does he think he’s doing,’ she wondered, ‘figuring it out himself? That’s what writers and producers are for!’

  The remaining time went quickly, and Kathy received the countdown. “Hello, again,” she said perkily. “We’re back and still struggli
ng to get a handle on the impact of today’s events as our nonstop coverage continues.”

  She turned to her side to face Thorndike because the TelePrompTer indicated the next lines were his.

  “Kathy, in the wake of the spectacle on the steps of the State Department headquarters this afternoon, the Vatican has announced that the Pope will be making a public statement. It appears that the Pontiff will begin shortly. Until then, let’s go to Cleo Dane, our Vatican correspondent. Cleo?”

  Dane and her camera crew were set up in the square, which was brimming with people. “Thank you, Barry. As you can see, St. Peter’s Square is packed to capacity with Catholics waiting for the Pope to appear on the balcony. The mood here is upbeat, and you can almost feel the anticipation.”

  Thorndike concealed his dismay at her comments. In the old school of journalism, you did not state something like “packed to capacity with Catholics” unless you had somehow actually determined that they were not all Lutherans. Her last sentence was also too subjective for his taste. If you wanted to convey “upbeat” and “anticipation,” you did it with interviews or, at least, a good set of visuals, and then let the viewer decide. Instead of speaking these thoughts, he said, “Cleo, have you had an opportunity to speak with any of the Pontiff’s representatives? Do we have any solid information on the nature of his planned statement?” He deliberately inserted the word solid in an attempt to deflect any speculation her part. The millions of people watching were fairly wound up at this point. He was painfully aware of how a single misstatement could explode into severe unintended consequences.

  “No, Barry, I haven’t. We did see Cardinal Bonavente arrive here earlier today. As you know, the Cardinal and Archbishop Coughlin have been the only two representatives of the Church to meet with Elohim. I would assume….”

  “Actually, Cleo, two priests who are members of the Archbishop’s staff have also met with Elohim.” Thorndike interrupted not to clarify this minor point, but rather to head off the “assuming” upon which she was about to embark. Shuffling through his papers, he added, “Here they are, Father James and Father McGonigle.” When Barry Thorndike was rehired by the network to the position of, as he saw it, senior babysitter, he quickly developed the demeanor of a crotchety curmudgeon, realizing that it was this role which best allowed him the privilege of constantly interrupting and correcting the younger on-the-air personalities; he refused to call them reporters or, as they now preferred, journalists. He had long ago given up on their grammar, and now mainly focused on keeping them from committing the major sins of the trade.

  Watching the monitor, he could see over Cleo’s shoulder and noticed that several men were filing onto the balcony. “Cleo, it appears that the Pope may be coming out. We’re going to cut to the press pool camera and sound feed now.”

  Looking over her shoulder at the procession, she swung back to the camera and said, “Okay, Barry.”

  As a concession to modernity, the Church had recently allowed a slender tower with a remote-operated camera to be erected in front of the balcony, as well as a single microphone to be positioned on the balcony itself. The microphone also fed the massive PA system that would fill the square with the Pope’s voice. In a soft tone, Thorndike, not waiting for a TelePrompTer’s input and ignoring Crocker, began a soft voice-over of the balcony view.

  “The Pope has not yet arrived. On the balcony is Cardinal Mario Bonavente as well as William Kent, an attaché bishop and special assistant to the Pope. Just coming out are the two priests I mentioned earlier, Fathers James and McGonigle. It is quite unusual for priests to be a part of the entourage. I would guess…and this is only a guess on my part…that they are included as a result of having met Elohim, a distinction that…from what we’ve been told…is not shared by the Pope himself.”

  “Barry,” interrupted Crocker, obviously feeling a need to participate in the proceedings, “if you were the Pope today, what would you say to all of the Catholics?”

  Stifling an urge to point out the inanity of her question, Thorndike simply said, “I have no idea, Kathy…I believe, yes…it is. The Pope has come out. We will go to just the live feed now and refrain from further commentary until he has completed his statement.” Satisfied that his last statement would prevent Crocker from inserting comments during the Pope’s statement, Thorndike sat back to watch the speech.

  The Pope’s face was unreadable. There was no apparent concern, nor was there happiness. In English, he addressed the gathering, paying no attention to the microphone or camera that recorded everything. “Peace be with you.”

  The microphone captured the audience murmuring, “And with your spirit.”

  “Today there walks among us a man who says that He is our Father…our Creator. Our Lord Jesus Christ told us that such a day would come…a day when His Father would come down from Heaven and give us His Blessings…a day when He would come down from Heaven and reward the faithful and the good, the gentle and the loving, the righteous and the pure.

  “This man calls Himself Elohim…a most holy name. And in the short time that we have known this Elohim, He has performed wonders that cannot be explained…except by invoking the power of God. Even those of us across the oceans from Him have felt His love. We have seen Him heal the lame, repair the damaged and…rise from death. We have seen His angel, and we have seen His wrath.

  “Many have asked whether this man is the true God. We cannot provide you with an answer…for it is the realm of man to know only man…not God. What we must do is remain open to His Spirit and His love. The doors to both our minds and our hearts must be not ajar but flung wide so that He may come in. For if they are not…you may turn Him away. To turn Him away would be to turn away the light…and without the light, the soul withers.

  “If you struggle…asking yourself if God is now among us…we ask you to ponder this. If He is not, if this man called Elohim is not our Father… you have only risked your pride…yet if He is among us, and you turn away…you are risking your eternal soul. It is for each of you to decide.

  “Elohim has placed a mark on many of you today. The mark is the ancient holy name of our Father, as told to us in the Testament. To you with the mark…we have little to say. Your covenant is directly between you and God. We have great joy for the peace and serenity that bearing this mark has brought upon you.

  “It is those without the mark who must be embraced. Elohim spoke and told each of you to blame no one for this choice…for the choice was not His…but yours. Each of you without the mark has been blessed…blessed with a second chance. There will be no great and horrible end to this place, no judgment today that would plunge many into the fires of hell. When Elohim departs in five days…taking the Chosen with Him…life on Earth will resume…and each of your lives will continue. We must all pray that although it may resume, it will not revert…revert back to the ways of last week, last month, or last year. For Elohim has promised one day to return…return to invite those who have been redeemed into an eternal life in Heaven. Just as your choices before this moment left you without the mark on this day, your choices from this day forth can lead back to the path to Heaven.”

  Gesturing to those behind him, he continued, “Cardinal Bonavente, Father James and Father McGonigle have been in the presence of Elohim. Cardinal Bonavente described the great love that he felt from Elohim, as well as the great gift of joy that Elohim bestowed upon him. He also described the sweetness of His tears. It is our devout wish and desire to also meet with Elohim…if He so chooses.”

  Pausing, the leader of the Catholic Church looked out over the tens of thousands who had gathered for his words. Unclasping his hands, he raised them to all and said, “Let us pray.” The mark of Elohim was clearly emblazoned on his palm.

  א

  Kaylie Willows stared intently into the mirror. She stood before it, modeling a new dress, and as her eyes followed the curves of her body highlighted by the thin, snug fabric, she felt the familiar upwelling of pleasure that normally
accompanied this process. Glancing at her right palm for the twentieth time since she heard about Elohim’s speech, she was again glad to see it bare. Her eyes moved up to her face, and she scrutinized it carefully, searching for any flaw in the makeup she had applied. After perhaps ten minutes of careful study, her hands moved up to her golden hair. Repeatedly, she scooped it up with her fingers and let it fall back onto her shoulders, continuing the procedure until satisfied that she had obtained the casual, neglected look she wanted.

  Snatching up her purse, she hurried out the door and trotted down the steps from her apartment, crossing the grassy area to the parking lot. Pulling out car keys, she punched the button on the remote and saw the taillights flash on her six-month-old Maxima. As she did every time she drove the car, she resented her father for purchasing it instead of the Hummer she wanted. Sliding onto the driver’s seat, Kaylie twisted the key in the ignition, and the car immediately came to life. Smiling wickedly, she twisted the key twice more, listening with satisfaction as the starter ground gears against the already running engine. “Come on, you piece of junk, crap out!” she said to herself. “The sooner you die, the sooner Kaylie gets another crack at Daddy.”