Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (5 page)

Flash addressed them. “Dear
comrades. We have the privilege of belonging to the most secretive
and important order in the Gnostic community.” He paused for a
moment and then announced in an authoritative voice, “The
Brotherhood of Purity.”

They nodded their heads in
self-importance.

“Unfortunately, we do not know who
we can trust, but fortunately, the number of Gnostics who
understand the danger is steadily increasing. Many Gnostics,
including those who rank in senior positions in the chain of
command, understand the importance of the Brotherhood and the
dangers that lurk before us. We extend our welcome to one of
Truth's most senior officers, Thunder, who has fought bravely,
whose forces have conquered large portions of Earth and who enjoys
the privilege of every Gnostic's trust. Thunder, it is a great
honor that you have joined us in our crusade for purity.” Flash
bowed his head to Thunder.

“Thanks you, Flash. I am only
fulfilling my duty to the Master of Light,” replied Thunder.

“It pains me to inform you that the
Gnosis is not as pure as it ought to be,” continued Flash.

His speech was interrupted by
whispers and murmurs.

“We are all aware that, following
the betrayal of 'the Condemned One, whose Name has been Erased', he
who caused the great explosion in the compound decades ago, the
Brotherhood of Purity was founded in Istanbul and has spread to
Uruk as well. The Brotherhood dealt with internal security affairs
and loyalty checks of Gnostic members. Fortunately, the Brotherhood
has successfully dealt with these matters so far, but never have we
tackled a challenge like the one we face now. It turns out that not
only do we no longer have the Sacred Uruk Tablet that will choose
the redeemer for us and so we pray to an empty frame, we also lack
a leader.” He paused to allow a moment for the murmurs to subside
and then continued. “I can only confide in you; I shall share the
information I possess only with you.”

“What are you implying?” The
murmurs rose again.

“I will explain everything; be
patient. If you may recall, Smoke managed to escape unscathed and
became Truth's senior deputy.”

“Yes, yes,” they nodded.

“Elusive as a demon, like a ghost,”
said Thunder. Flash could not suppress an involuntary twitch in his
face.

“After the battle, I examined the
battle computer myself, the one that tracks all the devices and
processes of each aircraft that participated in the exercise. I
found anomalies.” Flash paused to heighten the sense of suspense
and then continued. “Whoever does not believe me may check the log
himself. Smoke suffered from a technical malfunction. A malfunction
caused by his failure to perform the essential pre-flight checks,
as every Gnostic warrior should.”

“A malfunction does not necessarily
indicate disloyalty,” piped one of the members.

“Correct. A malfunction indicates a
lack of professionalism, and I am not sure if I am prepared to
accept the authority of a future commander of the Gnostic forces if
he is professionally lacking. But this is not what I came here to
speak to you about. In this case, fraud was committed by the
Commander in Chief himself.”

“Truth?” they gasped in unison.

“Yes. I know that this is hard for
you to believe. You do not have all the facts. Remember, this was a
ceremonial exercise.”

“Yes, yes,” they nodded.

“And you are all aware that, during
these exercises, it is forbidden to save those who fail or make
mistakes. Just like during the ceremonial Walk Along the Abyss, so
too during this flight: a commander must not rescue his soldiers.
This type of assistance harms the Gnostic purity. I will not bore
you with conjecture. The moment when it became apparent that
Smoke's device had malfunctioned, Truth overrode his system and
corrected the error. His leadership demonstrated weakness that is
inappropriate for a Gnostic,” he added in a firm and somber
tone.

Incensed mutterings could be heard
all around.

“I too had great difficulty
believing it initially, but I hold the proof right here in my
hands.” He presented the data documenting Truths's activity on the
portable display he pulled out of his pocket. They stared at it,
stunned. The uproar rose again.

“How far has the Gnosis
deteriorated? The father of the ship, a traitor?!” exclaimed Abyss
in anger. Flash watched the pandemonium with satisfaction.
'Everything is going according to plan,' he mused.

“We must act at once! He has
defiled the sanctity of the Gnosis,” thundered Spark.

“Please, lower your voices so that
we aren't heard,” coaxed Flash. Some of the members shot anxious
glances toward the door. “Do not worry. It is almost time for us to
come out of hiding and act out in the open. We shall purify the
Gnosis in the name of the Brotherhood.” All nodded in
agreement.

“Thunder, please,” Flash turned to
him.

“Like many of you, I have been part
of the Gnosis since I was a young boy. I have never been supported
when I fell, I have never supported others who have fallen and I
have never encountered a true Gnostic who behaved otherwise. Since
the betrayal of the Condemned One, whose Name has been Erased, I
was sure that we had uprooted all the traitors from among our
midst; now, however, I fear that this is not the case. Flash
informed me of Truth's correction during the sacred ceremony. I saw
the data with my very own eyes, like you did, and to my chagrin, I
cannot deny reality. Truth cannot be trusted.”

“You too cast doubt on the father
of the ship?” asked one member incredulously.

“Yes!” Flash answered for him, “It
is clear to me beyond any shadow of a doubt that if Truth was
stricken with faint-heartedness and supported the falling during
the exercise, then come the moment of truth, he may also be seized
with weakness in the face of the supreme nullification, of
achieving our mission. We are obligated to bring the Gnosis forward
to a new era of purity; to be alert, to return the Gnosis to its
original values. We must let Truth fall when he stumbles, and if
not, we shall overthrow him.”

Thunder nodded approvingly. The
other members whispered briefly among themselves, their somber
faces a testament to their tempers.

“What must we do?” asked Spark.

It was not clear if the question
was directed at Thunder or Flash. Thunder was the senior of the
two, but Flash already acted as if he were the leader of the
Brotherhood of Purity.

“I have no interest in leading the
rebellion. I do not aspire to appear to be the redeemer. I have no
interest in replacing Truth in his path to becoming the redeemer.
My only interest is to preserve the sanctity of the Gnosis. We must
choose a leader for ourselves. Thunder, our comrade in the
Brotherhood, is more senior than I. I propose Thunder.”

“Managing the Brotherhood will be
detrimental to my current management of the headquarters. I do not
want Truth to suspect anything. Please, Flash, you be the leader,”
said Thunder. Even though he wanted to lead the Gnosis, he knew
that he was not prepared to lead the opposition against Truth.

“Yes, Flash, tell us what to do,”
said Spark.

This is exactly what Flash had
anticipated. He assumed that Thunder would respond the way that he
did. Now he could take the leadership position without any
opposition. “In light of the circumstances, I have no choice: I
must lead us. We have no choice: we must take action in order to
save the Gnosis. For the sake of efficiency, I propose that some of
the members here form a leadership committee. The committee will
prepare contingency plans for various scenarios of Gnostic
activity, as well as for various failures committed by Truth during
the course of his leadership in various scenarios. We must recruit
a portion of the badgers to our service as well. During the moment
of truth, we will need to perform operations on the ground.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“If so, in the name of the Master
of Light, we are all together now?”

“In the name of the Master of
Light!” they all chorused.

“The meeting is now closed. And
now, we will leave here one at a time and avoid contact for the
remainder of the day.”

Flash could feel fresh blood
coursing through his veins. He had waited a long time for this
moment. His newfound power was intoxicating in its intensity.

Oh, Master of Light.

You have surely redeemed me from
wandering.

You have brought me near to
You.

I stand before You without fear or
trembling,

In the complete eternal light that
contains no darkness,

Bless me! For I am but dust and
ashes.

Flash was the last one remaining in
the warehouse. He finished his silent prayer and returned to the
mundane routine of the compound.

The Gnostics refrained from
deliberately harming the Syrian city of Aleppo. Its inhabitants
were mainly merchants who managed to maintain good relations with
most of the tribes. On occasion, they also served as
intermediaries, transferring messages or supplying rare cargo. The
wealthy residents of the city forked over substantial sums of money
in order to be allowed to keep their wealth, and this is how the
city on the hill continued to survive. Inside the city, where
crowds filled the streets, none of the sentinels stationed on the
walls paid any attention to a dusty vagabond who was passing
through their midst. He seemed to be down on his luck, one of the
survivors of a tribe now scattered throughout the planet. He wore
sandals made of black plastic strips and a tattered desert cloak.
On his head was a thatched straw hat bearing a pin with three rays
circumscribed in a circular frame, a relic of a twentieth century
car manufacturer.

He removed a few coins from his
pocket and refreshed himself with some bittersweet pomegranate
juice from a street vendor in the shade of the wall. He then made
his way through the alleys of the kasbah. Everyone ignored him: the
shouting peddlers, the shopkeepers trying to lure in the passersby,
even the beggar children who chased after anyone they could reach;
even they turned their faces from him, afraid he would ask them for
money. It was obvious that he was a man of no means. He crossed the
garment street, turned right onto the fruits and vegetable street
and continued to the spice alley. He passed by the all-purpose
plastic strip stalls and stopped at the entrance of a store that
sold antiques from the twentieth century.

Bakhnus was a very shrewd merchant,
but only a few people were aware of this in Aleppo. Only those who
engaged in the black market trade with him knew this, and most of
these customers came from outside the city. As an antiques dealer,
he did not stand out with any particular skills, nor did he demand
extraordinary prices. But as far as his true trade went, the sale
of contraband merchandise, he was second to none in Aleppo. He
acquired this position mainly through his ability to keep secrets
and win his customers' confidence. The vagabond entered the
store.

After shaking hands, Bakhnus said,
“Sit, Rial, have a drink and rest from your journey. Perhaps some
coffee? Cold coffee?”

“Yes, cold coffee, thanks,” said
the stranger called Rial in a deep, melodic voice that bore no
signs of dust from the roads nor weariness of traveling. He gulped
the cool drink served in a large mug and praised his host on the
coffee's fine quality. Indeed, it was a rare blend.

“Wait here a moment, I'l get what
you paid for in advance and be right back,” said Bakhnus.

Bakhnus pulled back the curtain at
the edge of the store and entered the storage room. The vagabond
continued to slowly drink his coffee and observe the curious
objects around him: books made of tree paper, ceramic plates,
clocks with gears that had stopped and other collectors' items that
had been out of use for years. Bakhnus returned with a package
wrapped in brown plastic fastened with straps. The vagabond peeked
inside the package, smiled in satisfaction and retied it. Bakhnus
fastened the package with another two strips of plastic to form a
harness.

The vagabond slid his arms into the
straps and hoisted the bundle onto his back. He parted with the
merchant and exited once more into the alleys of the Aleppo kasbah.
This time, a string of children trailed after him in hopes that his
package contained money, or that he would at least throw some candy
in their direction. He ignored them and they gave up their
attempts. After exiting the city gates, he marched alone southbound
on the dusty path.

The aircraft stood unscathed,
concealed inside the thicket not far from the city. He neutralized
the electronic defense field and performed the pre-flight checks.
He changed out of his street clothes and donned his Gnostic
uniform, examined his appearance reflected in the shiny cover of
the cockpit and took off vertically, turning toward Baalbek. A few
minutes after passing Baalbek, he radioed, “father of the ship is
on his way back.”

T
he yellow
kayak glided down the river. Thales sat behind Sophia. His sturdy,
solid body barely squeezed between the sides of the kayak. His
muscular arms rowed with powerful yet gentle strokes. His face was
round and pleasant, with a small dimple nestled in the center of
his chin. One eye scanned his surroundings with the vigilance of a
scout while the other never left Sophia. On either side of them
loomed the enormous canyon walls. Beneath them flowed the cerulean
water, teeming with leaping fish, and above them shone a red sun
amidst the purple Octavian sky.

He gestured silently to direct
Sophia's attention to an eagle nesting in one of the crevices. She
exclaimed in awe as the eagle spread its massive wings, skimmed
across the water and returned to its nest with a silver fish
fluttering between its talons. The canyon walls were covered with
Maidenhair ferns that dripped spring water into the river. Bees
buzzed about their hive hanging from the red branch of a Strawberry
tree and blue beetles flecked with green spots rested atop the edge
of the yellow kayak. Thales dodged a granite boulder that had been
polished smooth by the water and increased his rowing speed in
anticipation of the waterfall ahead. On the left side of the
waterfall, the river veered to the left and he could see the edge
of the canyon in the distance.