the War Council meeting was held in the conference room at Town Hall.
i stood at the podium, fussing with the laptop on the card table next to me. i had hooked it up to the projector with an HDMI, but for some reason, the connection wouldn't take.
"o Holy Mayor, i just don't understand," said one of my advisors, Stradivarius, from his folding chair in the middle row. "what's your plan for taking out the Goblin Kingdom, exactly? i get that you're going to use the Thermos, and that you're being guided by the righteous will of God and all that. it would just be nice to know the plan, is all."
"agreed," said Rogelio, a member of the Priesthood. "we must make sure the interests of the Church are adequately represented."
"does the Church dare to question the Messiah?" sneered Apocryphina, who represented the Council of Elders. "you of the cloth have gone astray of the ancient way and diverged from the Path of God. soon you will have your reckoning. so saith the Prophet!"
"can someone help me with this?" i asked. "i can't get my laptop to connect to the projector."
"is the projector turned on?" ventured Paprika, the Town Council representative, from the front row.
i looked and saw that it was not.
hiding my utter mortification beneath a brittle veneer of keeping-it-together, i chuckled, and said, "oh, i guess it wasn't. my bad. sorry, everyone."
but no one cared. they were too busy arguing.
"hey! come on, guys. it's meeting time," i said.
begrudgingly, they quieted.
"i made a PowerPoint," i said. "i hope you find it sufficient. it's, uh—well, you'll see what it is."
at a click, the title page of my PowerPoint went up on the projector screen behind me. written in colorful text on a bright yellow background in wavy WordArt font, it said:
my visions of victory over the Goblin Army
a PowerPoint prophecy
by: Rodrigo :-)
i clicked from the title page to the first slide:
1: Goblins will besiege all cities throughout the land
Goblin Kingdom NOT deterred by threat of Holy Thermos!!!
they will attack the towns and villages surrounding Ursanuma
devouring the young of the livestock, crops of the land, etc.
i said, "the Goblin Army may be deterred from attacking Ursanuma for the time being, but they won't sit idly after such a blow to their pride. they'll start attacking neighboring villages. they may have even started already."
i clicked to the next slide.
2: the kings of the earth shall be afraid
the leaders of the other towns and villages will reach out to Ursanuma for help defending themselves against the many-headed Lion of Blasphemy (aka Goblin army)
they will rally behind the righteous will of God and the awesome power of the Holy Thermos
i said, "and the leaders of those villages will reach out to us for help defending themselves. they know of the Thermos, the power our village wields, and right now they fear to associate with us. but when the time comes, they will reach out to us, and become our allies."
i clicked to the next slide.
3: and the believers of the land will be united under the banner of Pulundi
we will march on the Goblin Kingdom, and surround their castle
armed with our Holy Weapon
and destroy their kingdom in the name of our God
i said, "while the Goblin forces are split between their own lands and ours, we will invade the Goblin Kingdom, and use the Thermos to destroy it from within. according to my visions and the word of God Itself, this will be a victory for us."
i clicked to the next slide.
4: a strange-faced moon rises over a field of blooming red
to be honest, i don't really know what this part of the vision means
it always comes after the visions of our victory at the Goblin Castle
??????? probably not a bad omen
"admittedly," i said, "this part is weird. i don't know what it means. but it always comes after we win, so... it's probably not bad?"
even as i spoke the words, i felt doubt. there was something unmistakably menacing about that leering moon. how it had risen over a field of nebulous red that seemed almost alive, almost breathing. exhaling waves of mysterious particulate into the undulating midnight breeze.
but on the other hand... God had told me not to worry. and wasn't that the essence of faith, to hold to your beliefs in times of doubt? yes. faith without doubt was merely infatuation.
"so faith has to be blind?"
the voice of Cornelius echoed in my head, a memory. he had said that once, when the topic of faith had come up between us.
i don't remember what i said in response. something to the effect of yes. and Cornelius said, "then i guess we should be really careful about who we put our faith in."
i was jarred from my reverie by the voice of Rogelio.
"hold on now. the Church does a lot of trade with the Goblin Kingdom. are we sure God wants us to destroy it?"
"yes," i said. "God has been excruciatingly clear on the matter."
"okay," said Rogelio. "but what if instead, we offer them a peace deal?"
"they won't accept a peace deal," said Paprika. "they're Goblins."
"do we know that, though?" asked Stradivarius. "have we tried?"
"we do what God wants," said Apocryphina. "o Holy Mayor, don't waste your time paying heed to these petty squabbles. go forth and prepare for war. the Old Way has dawned on the world anew; the Word of God is law."
i had to admit, Apocryphina had a point. or, at the very least, all that stuff she said was kind of what my whole platform as Holy Mayor was built on.
i said, "while i would love it if we had the time, resources, and security to try out peaceful solutions just to see if they work, we don't. we're fighting a war that we're not in any shape to win, but for the power that God has graciously bestowed upon us."
"didn't God also start the war?" asked Stradivarius.
i thought for a moment. "i think the Evil Stew Goblin did, actually. but that's irrelevant. even if God had started the war it wouldn't change anything. we are still beholden to It's will. we will carry out the commands of Pulundi to the letter."
later that night, alone at the Holy Mayoral Manor, i reflected on that decision. i was full of doubt. and more than just doubt. resentment, too. i resented Pulundi for what It was making me do. i resented the fact that i felt i had no choice. that was the sickening thing—the feeling of being caged. even by my own faith, a thing that had once brought me joy. a cage was a cage.
how could a mere mortal defy the will of a powerful God?
and the signs from God were clear
and they signaled to us that it was time to return to the Ancient Ways
"we will hold a Choosing," Apocryphina had announced. as the eldest Elder of the village, her word was as good as law. "we will do it in the Ancient Way. if the Soup accepts Rodrigo, we will consecrate him, and he will be Holy Chieftain."
the villagers, overall, seemed thrilled at the prospect. some so much so that they were driven to the point of a rambling, religious hysteria. (i think they are still a little "drunk on the wine of God," if you know what i mean.) even Stradivarius seemed pleased, having come around once the bureaucratic complications that arose from the addition of my seat of office were sorted out (complicated and boring, but will explain later if anyone is interested.)
in contrast, i felt myself coming to resent the idea more and more as the day of the Choosing approached. i did not want to be Holy Chieftain. i did not want to be in charge of the village, responsible for the lives of everyone in it! and anyway, the job was a real bureaucratic nightmare, so there was that too.
"but what if the Soup doesn't... accept you?" asked my friend Cornelius one day while we were hanging out. "what if it rejects you or whatever? does that mean... you're not gonna, like, die, are you?"
and i heard real concern in his voice, for he was my true friend, and dear to me. but the truth was, i did not know what would happen if the Soup did not accept me. if i would die, or... something worse.
or something better, the optimistic part of my brain feebly chimed in. maybe nothing will happen at all, and this Holy Chieftain thing will be over, and everything will go back to the way it was before.
but Cornelius—poor Cornelius; dear, sweet Cornelius—interpreted my silence as confirmation of that which he most feared. and he exclaimed a great exclamation of sorrow, and said: "Rodrigo, you must not do this thing!"
and, with sorrow of my own, i said, "ah, but you are wrong, Cornelius. i must do this thing. above all other things, i must do this thing."
"but why?" Cornelius demanded. "why would you risk your life for—?"
"Cornelius," i cut him off. "this is not the first time i have risked my life in the name of Soup. and i do not think it will be the last."
i looked into Cornelius' eyes, hoping to find some connection there. but all i saw was hurt and anger. and Cornelius looked away from me. and in that moment i felt my heart shatter.
this wretched mission of the Soup God's had already cost me so much. and now it was costing me Cornelius, too.
turning away from him, i said, "you do not understand, Cornelius. you are just a wizard. a god is nothing more than a rune on a rock-face to you. a page in a theurgy text. an item in a list. but my God means something to me, Cornelius. you never have been able to understand that. or maybe you do understand and you just won't accept it. i'm not sure. but i guess the distinction doesn't really matter. the barrier it puts between us is the same either way."
Cornelius looked at me, and i saw by the tightening of the dorsal muscles around his murine snout that he was angry. "you think i'm the reason there's a barrier between us? like it's got nothing to do with your emotional unavailability, or your weird codependent relationship with God, or your stupid obsession with soup!"
a look of regret crossed Cornelius' face the moment the words left his mouth. but he did not backpedal or apologize. he adopted a resigned expression, and maintained his silence.
after a moment i rose from the couch and walked over to the window. i stood with my back to Cornelius, looking out at my yard and the dirt road beyond it, the lemon and olive trees of the village orchards visible in the distance, the outer wall repaired and standing high behind the tree line.
"they would make an Atlas of me, Cornelius," i said. "they would place the world upon my shoulders. and when i cannot bear the weight of it, when it all inevitably comes crashing down, they will point at me and say, 'there is him who failed his charge! everything's wrecked and it's all his fault!'"
"who?" Cornelius asked quietly. "who will say that? who is doing all of this stuff to you, Rodrigo?"
and i turned and looked at him, and my heart was full of bittersweetness. and i said, "everyone but you, my dear Cornelius."
Shibboleth of the Soup Part 5: Power, Love, and Heresy
"all hail Rodrigo!" Apocryphina cried to the mass of cheering people in the temple.
the roar of the crowd was deafening. they clapped their hands, and stomped their feet, and screamed and screamed and screamed.
i decoupled my hand from Apocryphina's and crossed to the front of the stage, looking out at the roiling sea of hysteria and chaos that had become of my people, my temple, my home. i reflected that i had undergone a kind of transformation during my time in that spiritual liminal space. that there was something about me that was no longer quite me.
looking out at the crowd, i realized that the deep sense of fear and apprehension that i was so used to carrying with me all the time was gone. evaporated, like broth left simmering on the stove too long. in its place was something else. not faith, that slapdash skiff with its damaged hull through which doubt flooded in and in and in until the whole thing was waterlogged and sunk. no. this was something else—something solid, something secure. something which the very terms of it's own existence rendered utterly, fundamentally unshakable.
certainty.
i raised a hand for quiet. the crowd obeyed. the sudden cessation of the din sent a jarring silence echoing through the sanctum, reverberating off stone and marble, amplified by the shell of the high, curved ceiling.
"people of Ursanuma," i said, naming my modest village. "you want to hear that your time has come. that i am the Bouillon al-Gaib, the foretold messiah-prophet, come to lead your people out of the darkness and into the light. to free you from oppression at the hands of goblins and governments and usher in a new era of prosperity."
at this, the crowd began once again to cheer, but i raised my hand again and silenced them.
"you dream of a renaissance," i continued. "a renewal. a return to the ancient days, when our people reigned supreme over all the land, from the mountains of the west to the tapering marshlands of the eastern shore. when our magic was strong, and our God was stronger, and the word of our Holy Book was unequivocal law."
the crowd was quiet, but wide-eyed, hanging on to my every word, their faces lit up with expressions of adoration.
"i am sorry to say," i continued, "that your dream is a fantasy. what you yearn for is supremacy. tyranny. and there can be no prosperity under tyranny. not even the tyranny of God!"
consternation coruscated across the sea of faces as people processed and struggled to process my words. yes, i saw them realize. i was speaking...
"heresy!" gasped Apocryphina, outraged, from somewhere on the dais behind me
and i smiled, and said, "i am already my own prophet and my own messiah. is it not fitting that i should also take up the role of heretic?"
the crowd broke out in murmurs.
"what are you doing?" Apocryphina hissed, running up beside me and yanking at the sleeve of my robe.
"the problem," i said to the crowd, moving away from her, "is that no one in this room, not one of you, understands devotion. the true patriot is not the nationalist—the sycophant who supports their government in all things without question. no. it is the rebel, the dissenter, who is a catalyst for change in the face of injustice. who strives to correct wrongness as an act of love! just so, the most devout worshipper is not the most orthodox, but the one who dares to question the scripture. you may call it heresy. i call it love!"
at this, the room erupted, an explosion of murmurs and angry shouts.
"in my visions," i cried, my voice ringing out over the din, "i have seen a moon! a terrible, terrible moon, rising in the pit of a black night sky. and with that terrible moon did rise the ocean tides of war, and famine, and pestilence, and death!
"and i saw upon a stage a band of poor players, performing a show writ in blood by cold and pitiless Gods.
"and i saw myself upon a golden throne with a crown upon my head. and i saw the Holy Banner of Pulundi flying over all the lands of the earth. and beneath those banners lay mountains of bodies—the bodies of the slain. casualties of the war. whole cities destroyed, lost to seige and sickness, flooded and drowned in blood.
"and the moon was as red as blood. and the sun was black. and the stars fell from heaven. and the parents of the earth buried their children in the ground.
"people of Ursanuma, you will have your victory." i spat the word, disdainful. "but it will not be glorious. it will be a bitter victory, full of death and destruction, grief, and pain beyond all limits of imagination. but even so, we will take up arms, for it is Pulundi's will. and we are beholden to serve Pulundi in all things. we obey our God!"
and i spoke the sacred words—ancient words, far more ancient than Ancient Bear Latin, unknown even by the priests of the temple and the theologers who studied the Holy Books:
"Ehmi Ahkti na'eh."
and as i spoke the words i began to glow, and my feet raised off the ground. and the people felt the power of the words radiating throughout the room, and they looked up at me with abject awe naked on their faces. in wordless unison, every member of the congregation got down on their knees and prostrated themselves before me, a sea of heads and backs. even Apocryphina, i saw, had been broken into submission and joined them.
with my words of power i had subjugated every person in the temple. every villager in Ursanuma. they would obey me now in all things, as they obeyed God.
"in keeping with the will of Pulundi," i said, "my first act as Holy Chieftain will be a declaration of war upon the Goblin Kingdom."
it was the darkest darkness i had ever experienced. not just the absence of light, but of all things. a palpable, viscous nothing which neither light nor sound could permeate.
and i thought, am i dead? is this what death is?
my thoughts seemed to echo as though i had spoken them aloud, shattering the illusion of all-encompassing silence. and i realized that my previous assessment of my circumstances had been incorrect. i was not surrounded by nothing—i was surrounded by myself. my own thoughts, made substantive in this strange null-space.
and i knew in my heart that this was not death. it was something else. the space between life and death, not quite either but somehow also both. and somehow, also, it's own thing entirely. a special third thing that thwarted the false dichotomy.
a speck of light winked into life in the distance. it looked like a star, a tiny dot shining with the suggestion of a much greater magnificence. i started to move toward it. and soon the speck grew into a penny-sized circle of light, and eventually took the shape of a threshold, a distant doorway. as i got closer to it i realized that i could feel stone beneath my feet, hear the sound of my footsteps reverberating off walls hidden by darkness.
that darkness soon began to abate. gradually, my surroundings were revealed: a gray flagstone floor, veined marble pillars supporting a high, arched ceiling.
i seemed to be in a kind of hall. it reminded me of the hall in the Temple: narrow but airy, with pillars in place of solid walls, the night air beyond them cool.
the doorway was ahead of me, just the hall's length away. but the hall was long. and as i got closer i saw that the doorway's light threw one side of the hall into bright relief, while the other—the side that i had entered from—was bathed in a graduating totality of darkness.
it reminded me of a black-and-white cookie.
in the center of the hall, right on the dividing line where the brightness touched the shadow, there sat a great brazier that burned with golden fire. and above that brazier, mounted upon a great gilded campfire tripod, sat a great, golden, glowing, glimmering, bubbling, boiling, roiling, simmering stockpot.
it was... the Stockpot. the Stockpot of Eternity. the one that i had astral-Soup-projected myself into just a few months ago. but this time i wasn't projecting. i had entered its realm, its plane. and i saw the Stockpot before me now in its divine physical form, its full, Holy, beatific glory.
the ceiling of the hall was gone. when i looked up i saw the open sky above me, a canopy of stars on black, ornamented with supernovic swirls of celestial pinks and yellows and greens. a full moon hung in the apex of the sky, deep-blue and ominous. beautiful and foreboding.
i fell to my knees before the awesome Stockpot, and prostrated myself in supplication. i tried to speak, but found that words could not leave my mouth. instead, they came out as thoughts, projected aloud through the space like a psychic echo.
o Stockpot, i thought/said. please... help me.
even internally, i could not articulate the specifics of my need. the demand of such a task was too great. i could feel myself fading, weakening. i didn't know how much longer i had left.
but the Stockpot was all-knowing, and said:
"I am the Soup of Life. he who comes to Me will never know hunger, nor thirst. go not into the light, but come to Me, Rodrigo. eat of the Uruqnui and become sated. drink of the Tiluqsui and become slaked. give yourself up unto the roiling broth of the Sacred Pot of Pulundi."
Shibboleth of the Soup, part 2—
a Lesson Already Learned
"this is the poison of the Enemy, Rodrigo," Apocryphina said, looking down at me as i writhed on the cold stone dais. "it is the essence of Evil. the one who leads us must be strong enough to endure it, or they shall be no leader at all."
my vision was fading, but i tried to fight it, to move my head and look around, to stay alert. stay alive.
but my vision was fading.
there had to be something i could do. this was supposed to be a trial, wasn't it? the Soup God had said so Itself. so there had to be something i could do.
but what?
i thought of what the Soup God had told me.
"it is a lesson you have already learned."
the poison from the Evil Stew burned as it coursed through my body, its deadly acids eating through membrane and organ tissue. dissolving my insides. killing me.
i thought back to my time in the Holy Stockpot. the Broth dissolving me, how unspeakably painful it had been. how it felt just like what i was experiencing now.
and suddenly i understood what i was supposed to do.
the temple echoed with the chanting of the congregation. "Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat! Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat!"
they were vicious words. bloodthirsty. words with death inscribed upon the pillars of their ancient genesis.
the people wanted death, fine. i would give them what they wanted. the people in the temple, the Soup God, even the Evil Stew Goblin. i would give them all what they wanted.
i stopped fighting. i let my body go limp against the cold stone surface of the dais. my breathing slowed. the chanting around me began to fade until it was gone, leaving nothing in my ears but the sound of my own pulse. that rhythm, which i had thought of as inexorable, a relentless and tormenting force—it wasn't, after all. it was a candle's flame in the wind. ephemeral. liable to cease without warning in an instant. and each second of its continued existence was utterly and unimaginably precious.
on the night before the Choosing, i filled my stockpot with the Soup of Prayer, and prostrated myself before it.
"help me, Lord," i said to the Soup God. "help me find the strength to accept the future i see laid out before me. help me find the strength to bear the weight that You would place upon my shoulders. that feeling that i was filled with when i opened those Holy Seals... that love... where has it gone? let me be filled with it again, o Lord."
as i uttered these words i felt the all-too-familiar pang in the space just behind my sternum—the pain of loneliness, disconnectedness. i longed for connection. but i was so isolated now that only one avenue remained to me: the Tiluqsui. the Broth-Dao.
and the Lord said, "if you wish to proceed, to fulfill the destiny that I have Proscribed for you, you must find within yourself a source of strength."
"i know that, o Lord," i said, unable to keep the edge of irritation out of my tone. "that is what You are supposed to be for, isn't it?"
and the Lord said, "any person may be lead to the Pot of God, but none can be made to lift the ladle and serve themselves from it. that, they must do of their own accord, in their own time."
"but i have served myself from it, have i not, o Lord?" i demanded. "yes, i have served myself from it. time and time again i have served myself from it. and time and time again my bowl was filled with naught but sorrow and pain! sorrow and pain and... and..."
and the Tiluqsui.
"and sweetness," i said. "a precious sweetness, rare but so exceedingly rich. i do not deny that sweetness, Lord. i ask only to taste it again."
and the Lord said, "when a general conscripts her infantry, she gives unto them not arms alone. but also gives unto them blankets that they may keep warm in the night; and food, that they may be sustained on their long marches. so too have I given these alms in their equivalent unto you, Rodrigo."
"then show me where they are," i pleaded. "show me how to use them!"
and the Lord said, "I have."
upon hearing the Lord's Words, i was struck with a sudden gestalten understanding. i was filled with awe. and all i could manage to say in response was:
