The Temple (16 page)

He looked at the shiny brass
clock with a reclining Venus of Milo on top. Nearly one, he thought
and reluctantly slid out of bed. He stretched lazily and decided to
get dressed reasoning that it would be awkward if the police came
and took him in for questioning without allowing him to change
first. And so he quickly put on one of his best suits and tried to
make himself look as respectable as possible. First impressions do
matter, he thought and wondered when the police would come.

Two hours later he couldn’t bear
the uncertainty any longer and decided to ring the temple to find
out what was going on. No one picked up. Frustrated he got his keys
and drove across. When he arrived there was a police cordon around
the building and opposite the building a group of angry protesters
were hurling abuse towards the temple. He parked his car, put on a
suitably horrified expression, donned his top hat, and approached
the police.

“Oh, oh,” he moaned lifting his
arms up. “What is it? What do I see? What has happened? Tell me,
officer, I beseech you!”

The officer on duty viewed the
theatrical and, indeed, almost comical figure with an
expressionless face that did nothing to betray his own
feelings.

“And who are you, sir?” the
officer simply asked.

“Who am I? He asks who am I!
Why, I am Master Jeremiah, guardian and keeper of the most holy
temple of God, and…”

“Please follow me, sir.”

They went to the sergeant on
duty who informed Jeremiah that he was wanted at the police station
to help in an investigation. Under the eyes of a jeering crowd
Jeremiah got into a police car and was driven away.

In the police station he was led
to a small room with an open doorway. He sat down with his back to
a dirty grey wall, a small barred window on his left and a table in
front. A petite woman with dark hair and light brown eyes entered
and sat down opposite him.

“I’m Inspector Knoual from the
anti terrorism unit. I’m in charge of this investigation.”

“But good heavens, inspector,”
Jeremiah exclaimed throwing his arms up in the air, “will someone
finally tell me what is going on? What has happened? Has anyone
attacked our holy temple? Why won’t…”

“You don’t know what has
happened?” she asked interrupting his outbreak of verbal diarrhoea
and looking into his eyes.

Jeremiah put his hands in his
lap. “Why no, I arrived at our holy temple to find a vile crowd
shouting the most horrible things and when I asked one of your men
for an explanation I was simply taken here without any word as to
what is going on. And now I really must insist to …”

“Do you know one of the members
of your temple who goes by the name of Sycko?”

“Yes, certainly I know him, but
what…”

“We have reason to believe that
he went on a public city bus this morning and detonated an
explosive device.”

She pushed pictures of the
burning wreckage in front of Jeremiah.

“This morning several dozen
people were killed and many more injured when a bomb exploded on
board a bus during rush hour. In fact we now know that Sycko was
responsible. Is there anything you can tell us?”

“Sycko? But that’s impossible!”
Jeremiah exclaimed in feigned outrage. “He wouldn’t harm a
fly.”

“I understand that Sycko was
together with you last night?”

“Why yes, that’s right. Our
congregation was gathered in holy ceremony out in the country where
Sycko was initiated into the sacred secrets of the Goddess Diana.
It was a rather long and tiring night so when we came back to the
temple in the early hours we all dropped straight into bed. That’s
why I only got to the temple so late. I was sleeping till noon as
were all our brethren, I believe.”

The police spent hours
interviewing Jeremiah and the other brethren but as Jeremiah was
the only one who knew about Sycko’s real role in the previous
night’s ceremony that part of the official investigation soon ran
into a dead end. All they had to work on was an online video
confession by Sycko. In it he outlined the repression and terror
faced by Dryvellers on a daily basis and how his act was no more
than self-defence. He also stated that he worked alone and that no
one else had any knowledge of his plan. The official conclusion was
that Sycko had acted alone and that he was deranged.

The day after the terror attack
on the bus interviews with Master Jeremiah, politicians and others
were broadcast on national television. A well known presenter
moderated the programme.

“…And here in the studio with us
I welcome Master Jeremiah of the Dryvellist Temple.”

Jeremiah inclined his head
slightly. There was icy silence in front of television screens
around the country.

“Now, Master Jeremiah, there’s
been quite a lot of controversy about Dryvellism in recent months,
the affair with the weeping Diana and financial gains you’re said
to have made from public performances, and now this attack. How do
you respond to your critics who accuse Dryvellism of
wrongdoings?”

“First of all let me tell you
that I dare anyone to say that the bombing of the bus had anything
to do with Dryvellism.”

“So you’re saying there is no
link?”

“Absolutely not. Dryvellism is a
religion of peace. Yes, I know that Sycko was a member of our holy
temple, but what of it? If a member of your TV station murders
someone, does it follow that everyone working at your TV station is
a murderer or that your TV station incites its staff to murder? I
think we will all agree that such an accusation would be
ridiculous, and it is equally ridiculous to accuse a religion
dedicated to peace and love of being responsible if one member of
our temple commits a crime.”

“I see, so you’re saying that
Sycko was motivated by factors unrelated to Dryvellism? But what
about the video confession he posted online? It clearly states that
he bombed the bus because of what he called ‘hate crimes against
Dryvellism’. I mean I’m getting a little confused here…”

“That’s because you didn’t
listen to me properly. I said that Dryvellism does not incite
anyone to violence, we’re entirely peaceful. The reason Sycko
carried out the bombing were repeated hate attacks against our
temple, so yes, there was hatred and violence involved, but it was
directed against us. Sycko was a young man with a very poor
education, a victim of an uncaring society, a very confused young
man who apparently knew no other way to respond to repeated hate
attacks against us than to resort to violence himself. ‘Violence
begets violence’ is an old saying and it’s still true.”

“So then there is a link between
Dryvellism and the bombing?”

“Certainly not. Sycko acted
alone. We had no knowledge of what he was planning to do, and
indeed, we didn’t even know that the hate crimes against our
community had aroused such strong and, I daresay, uncontrollable
feelings in him. If I had had any inkling of his true state of mind
I would have made it quite clear to him that resorting to violence
in such a way is the wrong thing.”

“So are you saying that violence
can be acceptable?”

“Well, of course, if someone
attacks me I have the right to defend myself. But that doesn’t mean
I am violent, does it now?”

“I understand. Now for another
take on this I’m told that the president is on the line. Good
evening, Mr. President.”

“Good evening.”

“What can you tell us about the
horrific bombing of a public bus?”

“This is a terrible thing that
has happened and all our hearts and prayers are with the victims
and their families. I personally extend my deepest sympathies. Yet
at the same time it’s important not to get carried away, not to let
knee jerk reactions take over. I can tell you all that Dryvellism
is a religion of peace. The actions of a single, deranged
individual cannot be used to blacken an entire community who have
been part of our country for many years. Dryvellers are a peaceful
and productive community, they’re part of us and Dryvellism has
provided many valuable social services to thousands of people over
the years. So again my plea to everyone, don’t get carried away. I
have read The Holy Dryvel myself and I can assure you that there’s
nothing to be worried about in it.”

“Mr. President, there have been
angry scenes outside the Dryvellist Temple, some of them involving
relatives of the victims on the bus. What have you got to say to
them?”

“I would tell them to go home.
We all know the terrible time relatives of the bereaved are going
through and my prayers are with them and their loved ones, but
demonstrating outside a religious community or even hurling abuse
at them is not acceptable. Religion must be respected and anyone
caught inciting against the Dryvellers will be prosecuted to the
full extent of the law. So once again, I urge everyone outside a
Dryvellist Temple to go home and to leave the investigation to
authorities.”

“Thank you Mr. President. Well,
we all heard what the president had to say. Surely that must fill
you with some satisfaction, Master Jeremiah?”

“I’m not sure that satisfaction
is the right word, but if authorities finally do decide to
prosecute the hate criminals that is something at least, and I
might say that is something they should have done a long time ago.
Without the constant hatred spewed out against our community a
young man like Sycko would never have been driven to such a
desperate terrible act.”

“Are you implying that
authorities are in part to blame for the bomb attack?”

“Maybe blame is too strong a
word, yet we must acknowledge that inaction on part of the
authorities, I might even say tacit support for certain individuals
and groups who were inciting the public with their vile lies
against us contributed to radicalizing an impressionable young man
such as Sycko. If we want to avoid future problems it is imperative
that we stand together against hatred and Dryvellophobia.
Moreover…”

“Thank you, Master Jeremiah, but
I’m afraid we’re out of time. Thank you everyone for watching,
until the next edition of Newsnight.”

The Freedom Defence League

In the state where court
cases

and great injustices abound,

citizens will never become
friends.

Plato, Laws

John Drew, founder of the FDL,
stood at an imposing six foot five. His broad shoulders and
muscular arms combined with blazing blue eyes and coal black hair
gave him the appearance of a veritable bulldozer ready to push
aside any obstacles in his way. Yet, appearances can be deceiving,
and John Drew was a good example of this. He had worked for several
years at a kindergarten where he was popular with both children and
their parents, and though it did happen on occasion that a child
new to his class was frightened all the children quickly discovered
that Mr. Drew was a lot of fun. So much fun in fact that he was the
most popular teacher at the kindergarten.

John Drew didn’t take any
interest in politics and he never bothered to vote. If anyone
berated him for not taking part in public life or doing the minimum
of a citizen’s duty by going to the polls he would just shrug his
shoulders and say with a faint smile “Maybe you’re right, but
honestly I can’t see the point. Whoever you vote for they all do
pretty much the same anyway. And if you vote for one of the smaller
parties your vote is wasted which is probably a good thing as a lot
of their ideas are whacky if not outright dangerous. I’d rather
think about my life and the people around me and how we can make
things nicer for everyone in our own small way than waste time
arguing and worrying about public affairs that I can’t change
anyway.”

His point about voting struck a
cord with many people who talked to him and who respected him for
being so polite, helpful and kind, in other words a pukka
gentleman.

All that changed the day when a
bomb destroyed the lives of scores of innocent people, people like
him who only wanted to go about their own lives, and with that gory
blast the realisation suddenly hit him that public affairs could
devastate his life and that of many other people who had never
taken an interest in politics. From that day on he began to read
about the Dryvellers and the ways they cheated and lied to people,
in fact the more he looked the more damning evidence he found
against them with one name standing out in particular – that of
Master Jeremiah.

What rankled John Drew and even
caused some bitterness was that the Dryvellers always seemed to be
able to turn their own crimes into accusations against people
criticizing them. It was as though no matter how great the wrong it
was the victims of Dryvellism who were seen to be the bad guys.
‘Adding insult to injury’ John Drew thought. But what really
enraged him was that authorities went along with this dirty game.
They always seemed to defend Dryvellism or at least ignore the
wrongdoings of its followers and the leadership.

“Something’s got to be done,” he
muttered to himself a good many times until it struck him that it
was time he did something.

“What am I sitting around
griping about others not doing anything when I could do something
myself,” he said one day. “If everyone’s like me, sitting around
complaining but not doing anything then no wonder nothing is being
done, but that also means there must be a good many folks ready to
take action if there was someone to lead the way.”

And that was the moment he
decided to step out of the shadows of his happy private life, his
blessed obscurity, and to come out in the open to challenge what he
saw as a great injustice that was slowly destroying the land he
called his own. After giving the matter some careful thought he
founded the Freedom Defence League or FDL for short. Within a
matter of days he managed to gather a considerable following and he
arranged for their first big meeting in the gym of an abandoned
school.