Seeking protection from a force that’s protected

(Cont.)

Now when Balak heard that Balaam was on his way, he ran out to meet him at an open place in the woodland near the border of the Distant Shores, which is in the utmost coast.

And Balak said to Balaam: “Finally, you have arrived! Did I not tell you that our case is urgent? Why did you stall? I asked you before, and you refused to come! What’s the deal? Are you afraid that I won’t be able to pay your price? Behold, I’m the King here, I have plenty of honors to offer.”

And Balaam answered Balak: “It is not as you think. Look, I am here; but I have no options. I wish I could help, but I am powerless. Here’s the crux: I made a promise to my brother Yahweh that I would not interfere in his endeavor – for, you see, he’s taken a strong interest in the Empire’s workforce. So, these thugs that are threatening you happen to be his thugs; and he’s put too much effort into reforming them to let them face justice. Do you grasp the situation? My heart is with you, but my hands are tied: I can only do as Yahweh says.”

§

Then Balaam accompanied Balak to the center of worship in the sticks, called the Meeting of the Courtyards, which was like their version of the Tabernacle of Potential. There, Balak grilled up some oxen and sheep, and served them to Balaam and to the pair of angels who had come with him.

After this feast, they all retired and had a good night’s rest.

Then, on the morrow, Balak took Balaam up to the Mountain of the LORD. From there, he could see the utmost part of the population. Balaam looked around and said to Balak: “I like it. Nice atmosphere. Listen, why don’t you order seven grills to be hauled up here, so that we can have a barbecue. Bring seven oxen and seven rams; and tell all the people. Perhaps my brother Yahweh will then show up – he loves picnics and celebrations. If he deigns to attend, I’ll talk with him, and see if he’s changed his mind about his stray army.”

So Balak implemented Balaam’s suggestion. And they had a cookout. On every grill, they barbecued a bullock and a ram.

Once the feast was in full swing, Balaam said to Balak: “Stay here and keep an eye on all these grills. I am going to head up to the top of the mount, just in case Yahweh happens to smell our barbecue and is willing to eat. Then, whatever he shows me, I’ll relay it to you, when I return.

So Balaam ascended to the highest point on the mountain, where he could see a fiery vortex waiting with thick black smoke billowing from it. And the wild man with the goat eyes stepped out of the aperture and said: “What’s the occasion for this banquet?”

And Balaam answered: “I had them prepare seven grilling-altars, and we barbecued upon every one of them a bullock and a ram. No special reason, although admittedly I was hoping that you might show up. You’re welcome to join us. Shall I fetch you a plate; or would you like to come down with me and meet the multitudes?”

The wild man replied: “I would normally attend, but this is an awkward interval. I know that King who has summoned you: he’s the son of the prophet I’ve been working with. But he and I are currently in the middle of a dispute. So, do this: bring me up some ram’s meat, and I’ll leave you with a dark saying that you can deliver to the people.”

§

When Balaam returned from dining with the Volcano, as he walked back down the mountaintop, he saw King Balak, son of Moses and Zipporah, standing by his grill, and the pair of angels were with him, as well as other people and angels. When they noticed the prophet Balaam approaching, they all hushed and waited to see what he would say.

Then Balaam lifted his voice and delivered the dark saying from the goat-eyed wild man:

“The word of Yahweh,” Balaam began, “to the people who live in the wilderness. Balak, your Messiah, has called my associate Balaam out of the Highlands – down from the mountains of the east, he summoned him, saying: ‘Utter a malediction against our guests, and bring to ruin these visitants.’ But I, the LORD, am their possessor; for I delivered them among the multitudes, with my own strong arm, and with dazzling miracles. Now I ask you: How shall I allow a magus to curse the very thing that I wish to bless? As I stand here atop this rock, and when I look from the highest hills, I can see the troops that have made you fret: they are lurking through the cities, causing the footpaths to flow with blood. For they are alone: they lack a friend among the nations; and they have no land of their own. But my desire, saith the LORD, is that these travelers meld with the occupants of the dominions hereabout, until their number learns to surpass the number of all the stars of the heavens. Now they have taken a hard-wrong turn: They were tempted beyond their limit. Nevertheless, they remain a concern of the volcano of potential. Therefore, nothing shall be permitted to stop them.”

And when the people of the sticks heard this message, they were perplexed. “We always believed that the LORD was benevolent, and that he would act on behalf of justice.”

Then Balaam replied: “If you are aiming to martyr me because I delivered the mountain god’s words without sugarcoating them, then amen: so be it. I will take pride in such a demise. It pleases me to stay true to my compeer Yahweh; as our friend Blake says: ‘The most sublime act is to set another before you.’ Let me therefore prepare to die the death of the righteous.”

Then King Balak said unto Balaam: “Relax, my friend: no one here wants to kill you. We do not even believe in capital punishment. It is only the international legislation that prescribes such an end for war criminals, if convicted. But you are a poet: no law shall ever restrict your speech. I think that we are all simply questioning the ethics of Yahweh’s decision. It seems uncomplicated that a loose army of thugs who are out of control should be brought to justice. Is that so radical? What is wrong with that idea? Yet when I asked you to use your enchantment just to neutralize the assailants momentarily, so that we can get our bearings on this situation and learn what step to take next; in other words, when I requested that you prevent the slaughter of innocents, you framed this notion as a ‘predilection to curse’; then flipped the script and gave the brigands a blessing!”

But Balaam replied: “I’m sorry, but, as I explained to you already, I will not use my personal influence in this dilemma: I must honor the sacred promise that I made to my colleague, to speak nothing more than what Yahweh puts into my mouth.”

What these ongoing negotiations effectuated

(Cont.)

On the morrow, Balaam rose up and said to the angel of Balak’s dream vision: “Did you sleep well? Ah, that’s good. Yes, my response is ready – I’m afraid I’ll need you to return with a message of refusal: Tell Balak that the Volcano cannot permit me to use my powers for such a purpose at this time.”

So the angel rose up and breakfasted and then flew back to the King and said: “Balak, Balak! I was just with Balaam: we spoke; I delivered your prayer, yet he refused to comply.”

Therefore, Balak spent a heavy amount of karma to send out to the prophet Balaam, by way of dream, a pair of subtler angels, who were even more pleasant to the eyes.

These fresh angels arrived at the hut and said: “Balaam, Balaam! Be not afraid of our bodies. Thus saith Balak the son of Zipporah: Yet once more, I pray that you let nothing hinder you from coming to my aid. Remember that I am the King of this wild land, and I have the power to give you anything that you ask for, whether it be notoriety among the distinguished herdsmen of these parts (for you know that there are many strong voices crying at present herewithin), or simply more succubi: I wish to appease you on behalf of my people. Come, therefore, I prithee, and cast a spell to protect the innocent against these invaders.”

Then Balaam answered the attractive angels and said: “O my dears, I beg your pardon, but, even if the King would offer me several such concubines as yourselves, plus whole mansions filled with silver and with gold; yea, even if he could promise to place my prophecies next to those of Isaiah and Amos in the Eternal Scroll Collection, it would be of no avail, for the choice is not mine to make: I cannot alter the weirdness of the trajectory preëstablished by the Volcano. Therein is my dwelling-place: possibility. (What god, pray tell, can act beyond that?)”

The pair of angels stood in their splendor, looking nonplussed.

Then Balaam added: “Let us do as follows: Both of you tarry here tonight. I’ll consult with the volcano of potential, and see if he has anything more to say about this. Who knows what might happen; this world is full of surprises, and each new moment brims with unforeseen opportunity.”

§

Then the wild man came to Balaam again at night, and he stood in the hut, and the two of them whispered tensely with each other. (They were careful to avoid raising their voices, lest they awaken the sleeping angels.) Finally, the Volcano said to Balaam: “OK, here is how far I am willing to stretch. If the messengers, once they rise, ask you to accompany them, then go ahead and follow; but do not act on your own in this matter: only say what I myself tell you to say.”

So Balaam rose up in the morning, and, after breakfasting with the angels, they all saddled their beasts and set off in the direction of the sticks.

And the wild man, watching them from a discreet distance, narrowed his goat eyes and shook his head slowly: he was upset that the story was taking this shameful turn. For his heart had been set on reforming his workforce, and he still could not believe that events had reached this pass, with the rogue division’s behavior having grown so unruly that it triggered a fellow seer’s intervention.

§

Now there was a type of shrub-like tree that grew in the vicinity, which was a smaller version of a weeping willow, whose long, dense foliage, which was slightly dry in this season, resembled, in a superficial way, the wild man’s lengthy locks. So he went and stood, thus camouflaged, among these bushes, which lined the road that the angels were traveling. There he waited: up ahead, at the bend.

And when the two angels from the vision approached on their palfreys, he let them pass, and they saw him not. Then, when Balaam came following, Yahweh drew his glittering sword, and he posed like the Satan of the Church, boasting a threatening aspect.

And the ass that Balaam was riding noticed the flash of the sword reflecting among the shrubs. Then the beast found its gaze locked in the fanatical stare of the wild man’s goat eyes. Stunned by this, the ass stopped cold and would not move: so Balaam kicked at her sides and repeated: “Gyah! LIGHTSPEED, my little Asherah!”

But Yahweh stood in the way, at the place where the path is flanked by side rails of cacti.

So, instead of moving forward, the ass veered left, which caused Balaam’s foot to be pricked by a cactus. And he cried out “Ow!” and kicked the ass again.

Then Yahweh drew nearer and stood in a narrow place, from which there was no escape.

And when the ass perceived the hopelessness of their situation, she buckled her legs and collapsed beneath her rider: and Balaam, in startled frustration, spanked the ass with his wand.

Then Yahweh opened the mouth of the ass, and she spoke in plain English to Balaam: “What have I ever done to you, to justify your smiting me with your rod?”

And Balaam answered the ass: “I only resorted to using physical force because you keep mocking me, my dear Asherah!”

And the ass answered Balaam: “Am I not the same ass that you have ridden ever since you first found me, grazing the field on the side of Mount Pisgah? Was I ever known to displease you in any way? Did I not treat your every wish as my command?”

And Balaam said: “You are right; you have never acted like this before.” Then, after a moment of thought, he added: “There must be some evil wizard in the vicinity who has cast a spell of enchantment upon you. Yes, now I wish that I had brought along my glittering sword, for then I would cut off your head, to break the curse, so that you could appear before me in your true form, as a beautiful princess! Hmm, I wonder what magician made you metamorphose into a beast like this, and what the terms of your contract are.”

Then the large bush standing before him blinked its goat eyes, and Balaam suddenly grasped that it was his brother Yahweh, obstructing the path with his blade at the ready. Balaam quickly raised his hands and fell flat on his face.

And the wild man said to Balaam: “Why have you struck poor Asherah with your scepter? Look, I came out here to block your path as an adversary, because I feared that you would follow those angels back to the wilderness and then drag my army to court on account of its war crimes. And Asherah spied me here with my sword drawn, withstanding you: that’s why she halted and flinched aside and knelt down, even though you kept kicking her like a madman. If she had not acted so wisely, by now you certainly would have been sliced to pieces – there is no way that I would have been able to avoid breaking forth upon you – for this quandary has really got my goat.”

And Balaam rose to his knees and answered: “I’m sorry, I had no idea that this meant so much to you. Now that I think of it, you were indeed acting a bit more uptight than usual last night; but I never suspected that the situation was this sensitive. And I’m ashamed that I didn’t see you at first, on the pathway – it’s these shrubs, or whatever they are: you sort of blend in.”

A tense moment of silence followed this speech. Then Balaam added: “So, shall I return to my hut?”

And Yahweh answered: “No, you may go ahead with the angels. However, remember: only do what I tell you to do – you may not act on your own, in this matter. And don’t you dare even think about involving the international court.”

So Balaam got back on his ass and went to follow the angels of King Balak into the sticks.

Hashing out the fate of disorderly beloveds

(Cont.)

So Balaam received this prayer from Balak’s dream. And he replied to the angel: “I hear the message of your master. You can lodge here tonight in my hut – I need time to think of what to answer back. Watch your step around the portal, there, in case it opens. You can sleep on that cot. I’ll use the rug – I insist: I need to meditate a communique to the Volcano, anyway; and it’s better if I’m not too comfortable, otherwise I might fall asleep.”

So the angel of the dream-vision from Balak abode with Balaam overnight, while Balaam contacted the wild man with the goat eyes.

And the wild man stepped out of the vortex, taking care not to disturb the sleeping angel; and, removing his shoes, he approached the place where Balaam was reclining. Gesturing with his thumb, the wild man then whispered: “Who’s in the cot?”

Balaam answered the Volcano and said: “You know Balak, the son of Zipporah, who represents the people who live in the sticks? He sent me this messenger by way of a dream, and I told her she could sleep there.”

“Ah,” the wild man nodded. “So, what was the message?”

Balaam said: “Some companies of bandits recently came into the land hereabouts and have been butchering and pillaging. They’re out of control, and Balak’s prayer was for me to cast a spell to calm them down; he’s afraid that otherwise they’ll commit atrocities within the sticks. For there’s a significant number of people who live in that part of the wilderness now.”

Upon hearing this, the wild man slumped and said: “This is just what I was afraid would happen. Those desperados are a division that strayed away from the multitudes of workers that I recently rescued. For I went in and defied the current Empire; then led its entire labor force out of the country. They came to my hill, and we feasted together; and next I was planning on taking them for an excursion and showing them around, so that they could mix and mingle with all the surrounding nations. But they shied away from facing the collegiate sector of the first major city we arrived at; and, before I could boost their spirits and persuade them to try, they split into factions and sped off in several directions pursuing schemes. In truth, ever since the beginning, it’s been one setback after another. None of them have gone fully savage, however, until this latest group of mutineers. When they initially broke away, I sent my man Moses to influence them, but they were apparently too much for him.” Then, after a moment of thought, the wild man added: “I feel sad about the whole project. The people are not uncompassionate, at their core; they just weren’t ready for the bliss that I had planned.” Then he looked up and asked, “Incidentally, what were you aiming to do to them?”

Balaam said, “Well, I was thinking of maybe dissuading them with a lice plague. Or siccing a jinni on them, to step on them.”

But the wild man said: “No, please! not lice. And don’t blot them entirely. I feel responsible for them still, and I think I can steer them toward humanity. They’re the descendants of a couple representative men whom I blessed. I signed a contract, you see.”

Then Balaam nodded and said, “I understand. I’ll hold off. But how long? And what should I tell Balak, and the people in the sticks? Their concern is not unreasonable.”

The wild man encased in long hair exhaled deeply; then replied: “Ay, there’s the rub. To be honest, the more I think about it, the more I lean toward granting the people’s prayer. Those from the badlands, I mean. They’re usually right. That’s why I chose to move out here. The problem is my soft spot for the workforce – after all, it was an initial neglect of the laborers in the Empire that led to this confusion. It’s easy to say, ‘Just give me a generation.’ But I hate to gamble with people’s full lives. I guess I cannot specify exactly how long I’ll require. Why don’t you wait at least forty days. I’ll provide what you need, to stall till then. – And, listen: I’m sorry about this; I owe you one.”

A brief review, some introductory information, and a distress signal

(Cont.)

Now, do you remember Jethro, the Midianite priest? I said that I would never mention him again, but I cannot help myself. Jethro Raguel Reuel Hobab, of the people of Midian. – You have no idea what I’m talking about? Alright, I’ll try to bring you up to speed:

When Moses had to escape from the Empire after preventing a would-be slave-killer from killing a slave, he fled to the sticks, in the wilderness, where the Midianites lived; and Moses took refuge at their high priest Jethro’s house. Thus it was from Jethro’s religion that Moses first learned of the god named Yahweh, who was one among the Midian pantheon of deities. Also it was while watching Jethro’s goats that Moses first met the wild man in the vortex, on the side of the hill near Jethro’s abode. Moreover, Moses married Jethro’s daughter, Zipporah, and had two children with her – both boys: one was named Strange Foreign Alien, after the people of the workforce that Moses joined when he renounced his royalty and abandoned the Empire’s intelligentsia. This first son was called Xeno for short. And his other son was named Eloi, which by interpretation means “O God Please Do Not Forsake Me,” on account of his being born during the time when the multitudes were wandering in the wilderness.

Now, returning to our present place in the story, Moses’ wife Zipporah, the daughter of this priest Jethro of the Midianites, gave birth to yet another son, their third, and his name was Balak, which means “Ruler of the Children of the Wasteland,” for this lad was elected King by the people who lived in the sticks.

I should explain that the phrase “the sticks” refers to a certain realm within this wild land where Moses’ caravan has been meandering for all these years: The wilderness is, as you would expect, uninhabited; but there was a region within these wild lands that, albeit lacking a precise boundary or an official state title, was the dwelling place of a variety of peoples. These “wights from the wilderness” were often referred to derogatorily as hillbillies, “hicks from the sticks,” mountaineers (because of the proximity of many mounts: Sinai, Zion, Blanc, etc.), yokels, rustics, peasants, or rubes. These folks were held in contempt by the city-dwellers, perhaps out of a repressed jealousy of their freedom, but their ranks contained many wise and formidable individuals.

Balak got to know well the people of the sticks, because he grew up among them, trekking through the wild alongside his mother Zipporah, among the masses led by his father Moses.

Now, the Midianites, of whom Balak’s grandfather Jethro was the high priest, lived hereabouts as well, but the reason that Balak became known as King of the Wild in general, rather than the President of Midian specifically, is that there are more than just Midianites residing in the sticks. I hope that makes sense.

What can be deduced from Balak’s kingship is that while Moses was lost with his caravan spiraling in the wilderness, his wife Zipporah was at work winning over the locals to her son’s cause and popularizing the young upstart among passersby.

Now this Balak rejected his father Moses’ cause – perhaps his mother prejudiced him against it (for Zipporah found it distasteful since the day her firstborn was almost slain for being uncircumcised); or perhaps it is simply natural for sons of iconoclasts to become iconoclasts themselves. In any event, just as Moses turned against the Empire, Balak turned against his father Moses. For Balak saw all the horrible slaughter that Moses’ throng had recently wrought upon the Infraborians, and against Fat Ug at El Cortez. Regarding Moses’ pivot toward violent conquest, Balak would quip: “During his six weeks in Reno, father obtained his divorce from humanity.”

§

Now the mountain folks in the sticks were sore afraid of the caravansary of Moses, since, even after splitting from the Volcano’s majority, and despite so many of the original workforce having settled the lands that they ravaged, there were still a great multitude of ex-laborers affiliated with this mad mob. So the mountaineers met with their Midianite neighbors in the wilderness, and they said:

“Look at these gangs of mindless, brutal thugs that have wandered into the nearby lands. These barbarians will surely lick up everything around us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field.”

Now, as I said, these voices crying in the wilderness had chosen Balak to be their messiah; so it was his responsibility to find a way to protect the people. He knew that he could not simply talk sense to his father Moses; for he had seen his mother Zipporah try and fail at that endeavor, time and again. Therefore, he opted to send an angel in a vision unto a respected dream-interpreter who lived in the sticks, down by the river. (Balak’s uncle Bryan, the King of America, before he returned to Jupiter, had taught his nephew how to message gods via dreams.) This prophet’s name was Balaam. And Balak’s angel spoke to Balaam in the vision as follows:

“Balaam, give ear! Look yonder at the El Cortez Hotel, how it is the scene of a bloody crime; and consider what has happened unto Saint Nick, the President of the Infraborians, and his students and staff. Behold, these horrors are the handiwork of a league of ex-laborers who, some years ago, escaped from the Empire. Look how they swarm over the face of the earth: see, they are fast approaching the sticks, where we reside. Come now, in the name of peace and harmony, I pray to you, please cast a spell upon these invaders, so that they stumble and reap defeat in a natural fashion; and let a humane state of mind return to them. For they are drunk on war, and my hill-dwellers and I are a peace-loving people: we cannot expect to battle these psychopaths. Only the volcano of potential can help us now. Thus, my plea is to you, O Balaam, because you are one of the last true proponents of the Volcano. In these days, when so many have fallen away, you remain steadfast, and you continue to act in accordance with the workers of the world. It is clear to me that whomever you bless is blessed, while whomever you curse is cursed. Therefore, send aid!”

A bit more bad news

(Cont.)

So the workforce that Moses was guiding (or not so much guiding as being swept along with) took all these cities: and the division then bled subdivisions, for portions of the laborers broke away from the outfit and took residence in the district of the Infraboreans, and others chose to settle down in Heckland and the villages thereof. For Heckland was the hometown of Santa Claus, the President of the Infraboreans; but a portion of the Empire’s ex-workforce fought against this former kingpin of the sticks, and took all the badlands out of his hand, even unto the Distant Shores. That’s why they that speak in hymn-slang say:

Come into Heckland, 

Let the city of Old Saint Nick be reconstructed; 

For there is a fire gone out of Heckland, 

A flame from the city of Santa: 

It hath consumed Woop Woop of Tohu Bohu, 

In the sticks of the badlands, 

And the lords of Podunk and Bumhump, 

Over against the high places of the Distant Shores. 

Woe to thee, dwellers in the sticks! 

Thou art undone, O people of the No-Go Zone, 

Whose earth is charcoal: 

Your offspring are taken into captivity. 

For President Santa of the Infraboreans catapulted gifts: 

But we batted them back! 

Heckland is perished, all the way to Blandvale, 

And we have laid them waste 

Even from Antiregion to Cyphersuck.

Thus a fraction of the workforce that had wandered astray took root in the land of the Infraboreans. Eventually Moses also sent a covert military unit to spy out the dust bowl of Jetlag, and they took the hovels thereof, and drove out the Infraboreans that were there.

§

Then, what was left of the caravansary went offroad and somehow ended up in Reno, Nevada: and Fat Ug, the biggest businessman on the planet, came out against them, with all his lawyers, to have a meeting at the El Cortez Hotel.

And Moses said to the portion of the workforce that was still with him in the wild lands: “Fear not Fat Ug; for, the way that our luck is going, he shall be delivered into our hand, along with all his retinue, as well as his city here, which is known as the ‘Divorce Capital of the World’ on account of its relaxed laws concerning that procedure. We shall conquer his hirelings and commandeer the hotel, just as we vanquished President Santa who dwelt in Heckland, by initiating a surprise shootout. Certainly, El Cortez shall be ours.”

So they smote Fat Ug, and his entourage of attorneys, and all the clerks and interns who served him, until there was nobody left alive anywhere in the city. Even the people who had just come to visit Reno for the six-week period that was required to obtain a divorce were caught in the crossfire. There was blood smeared everywhere, and mangled corpses riddled the landscape. It looked like exactly what it was: the aftermath of a massacre. Fat Ug and his fraternity were now exterminated, and Moses’ troops took over the land.

Then the remainder of the caravan set forward, and pitched an encampment in the sticks, near the Midianites and other dwellers of the wilderness, out on the edge of the desert plains.

A turn for the worser

(Cont.)

Now there was a man named Santa Claus, and he was the President of the Infraboreans. Now, this was not the “Old Saint Nick” from the Bible, who is held to be the opponent of the Good God; no, this was just a regular man whose parents happened to name him Santa Claus.

Then, when the caravan approached the Middling Pole, Moses sent a message to the President, which said:

Dear Santa, please allow us pilgrims to pass through your wonderland. We will not attempt to loot your sweatshop for toys, nor joyride the reindeer from your vineyards. All your property and assets, we shall treat with respect, and leave your elves unmolested. We will not even dare to sip from your sugar-water fountains – not even the dog fount – no matter how thirsty we feel: but we will pace in a straight line directly forward, in single-file; with our heads lowered meekly beneath our cowls, and our eyes downcast. We will not steal your sleigh. None of your students or faculty will see us; they will not even smell us, for we will stay strictly hugging the shoulder of the six-lane highway that bisects your kingdom, until we reach your terminal border, where the trash is burned.

After reading this aloud to his staff amid roaring laughter, the Infraborean Santa smiled and said: “I now have a bright idea, ho-ho-ho!” Then he commanded all his servicepeople to coalesce, and they headed out to meet the division of Moses in the wasteland: and when they reached Jibaro in Jeshimon, they bombarded the caravan:

And as the gifts and presents were landing all around them, Moses raised his voice and addressed his group of fellow-travelers, saying, “O pilgrims, we abandoned our brethren in the workforce: we left them with the Volcano, and we decided to set out on our own. Since then, we have suffered endless affliction. (I, for one, have not felt like myself since Fallout Rock.) Yes, in that brief time, we have weathered every hardship imaginable, and now we are being pelted with projectiles. Let us recall our original goal: the volcano of potential desired for us to mix and mingle with all nations, so that we could help him fulfill his contract, which he signed with my forerunner Joseph, whose bones still glow: for we are to increase and multiply until the planet has been refilled. But these Infraboreans do not seem willing to cooperate. So, I suggest we retreat and reunite with the multitudes who stuck with the Volcano. It’s a long way back, but I think we can take a shortcut through Scylla and Charybdis, in the bad part of Burnsville where Bryan’s mother lives.”

Then the loudest voices among the division argued that as long as our mass of the workforce has chosen to part ways with the Volcano, we might as well forget mixing and mingling, and instead simply fight and conquer these attackers.

Enough of the group was enthused by this contention to sway the rest with their cheers; and Moses got swept along by their current.

Thus the division rioted back against those Infraboreans who were bombarding them, and the workers resisted the jolly forces of Santa. The militia of Moses gained the upper hand, and took into possession all the land from Distant Shores unto Jabbok, which is where the patriarch Israel battled the bat-god, who tried to suck his blood. They conquered all the land, and won the effects and resources up to the kingdom of the Persian Fire-Worshippers: for the border of the Persian Fire-Worshippers was strong.

A brief passage where nothing happens, they just wander in circles and end up at the same place again, this is a recurring nightmare

(Cont.)

Then the division being led by Moses went wandering from one forlorn location to the next. They were spiraling into the wasteland like something spinning down the drain. First, they set forward, and pitched in Dullsville, just outside of Munchkin Country. Then they journeyed from Dullsville, and pitched at No-Go Zone, in the sticks, out past the badlands, toward the sunsetting.

From there, they removed, and pitched in the channel of Wazoo, which is a dried-up riverbed.

From there they removed, and pitched on the other side of the gulf, known as Distant Shores, which is in the desolate land that comes out of the coasts of the Columbians: for Distant Shores borders the sticks of the badlands, where the markets of finance abandoned Libertas; wherefore it is said in The Book of the Crimes of the Gods:

O! what Mammon did within the Red Ocean, that gave it that name, and in the brooks of the Distant Shores, and at the flow of the River of Ravage that gushes down to Woop Woop, in the first abyss of Tohu Bohu, and ends within a stone’s throw of the sticks.

And from there they went to Lynch Peak yet again: that is one of the many places where Moses almost got lynched. (How often have I repeated this bit of scandal?) It’s also known as Fallout Rock, because of the fallout that Moses experienced with the multitudes there, and it is rumored that this is the very place where they killed him. It is the well about which the Volcano said, “Gather the people together, and I will give them water.” For the people were almost dead from thirst, for the umpteenth time, due to habitual neglect; and they blamed this on Moses, while encoding the following riddle:

Spring up, O blood from the rock; and sing ye unto it: 

The Prince of Deception digged a well,  

The nobles of the Empire bunged it,  

By the direction of the lawgiver Mammon. 

Yahweh and Moses took their staves, freed the flow; 

Yahweh atop and Moses below. 

Two struck once, and all struck back.

It’s a very old song, from a scroll that is no longer in print.

And from the Ever-Returning Twin Peaks of Bloodstone, they went to Timbuktu:

And from Timbuktu to Kalamazoo: and from Kalamazoo to Peru: and from Peru up the Wazoo to Bumhump: then from Bumhump to Podunk:

And from Podunk in the valley, that is in the badlands, out in the sticks, to the Peak of Pisgah, the Place of Postponed Promises, which looks toward the wasteland of Jeshimon, in the Middle of Nowhere.

(FUN FACT: Pisgah is that same hill where the Volcano lives.)

Correcting a misconception, then withstanding an onslaught

(Cont.)

So, when the working people saw that Bryan had left, they enjoyed a thirty-day orgy in his honor: it was very loving and pleasant.

Now there remained the Volcano, Moses, and the multitudes. Their aim was to reenter Emerald City by the same route that the spies took, in the beginning of this scripture.

Then, when Theodore Roosevelt, a Harvardite, heard that an escaped workforce from the Empire was storming the southern border of his college, he rearranged the syllables of his first name so that he became a young girl named Dorothy, and she then rounded up a party of her unschooled friends and went to meet the infiltrators. She brought her little dog Toto too.

(Mr. Graeber requests that I insert here his quick breakdown of Dorothy’s little band: The scarecrow was a farmer who had no brain and thus got foreclosed on by the banks; the tin woodsman represented the industrial proletariat, which lacked the heart required to act in solidarity; and the cowardly lion was the political class that recoiled from doing anything to solve the economic depression that was upon them.)

And the laborers vowed a vow unto the Volcano, and said, “If you will truly deliver our enemies into our hands, then we will utterly destroy them and their city, and we will ruin their institutions.”

But the volcano of potential halted the voice of the masses, and muted its vow, and said: “You have got the wrong idea. I do not wish to deliver up the Harvardites to you; please turn your minds away from this proposal of ‘utterly destroying’ everything. Whatever is desirable and harmonious about their institution and their city, let us embrace and bolster: graft yourselves onto it. And whatever is ugly or harmful, let us revise it.”

So the workforce of the Volcano met with Dorothy and her friends, and they mixed and mingled. Everything went swimmingly.

§

But now let me back up and tell you about another subsection of the working class which did not cooperate. While the above group was succeeding, a separate small sector of arrogant knaves decided to go their own way. These fellows pooh-poohed the Volcano’s advice and instead began to journey away from Mont Blanc in the direction of the Red Ocean (you’ll remember that another band of fools tried a similar thing in an earlier chapter), thinking to compass the Celestial City. And Moses went with them. Now, Moses did not join their group because he believed in their stubborn plan; on the contrary, he wished to go along with the majority on the spy-route with the Volcano; but the wild man with the goat eyes took Moses aside and said “There is a pack of strays that I’m concerned about: please accompany them; help them out when they run into trouble. We’ll meet again later, when your group rejoins ours. You’ll be taking a long-cut, a diversion; call it a scenic route. I will stop somewhere in India, waiting for you.”

So Moses went with this offshoot troupe, and they were much discouraged because of the way.

Immediately these pilgrims began to lament their predicament, and they said to Moses: “Why can’t your One True God simply overthrow Lord Bunyan and take the Celestial City for himself? There’s juicy fruit, all along the boulevard, and I heard that they have the tree of life there, too. Then we could go straight through and settle Eldorado by Thursday. But, as it is, everywhere that we wander, there’s always a meat shortage, neither is there any water; and our soul is beginning to tire of this light bread, bleached white and prone to mold, which your god keeps sending us. Why can’t he cause it to rain potato cakes, deep fried? Or seasoned rice? We don’t wish to seem ungrateful, but this is the World Creator we’re talking about: you’d think that nothing would be too difficult for him; it seems odd that his blessings are so severely limited.”

At this point, Vice Chancellor Bunyan from the Celestial City sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people; and many people of the workforce died.

Therefore the people came to Moses, and said, “We are sorry! We did not mean anything that we said above! We have sinned, for we have spoken against the Volcano, and against you, O Moses, dear friend; please write a formal apology for us, and send it by a messenger to the volcano of potential, and add a postscript asking him to take away the fiery serpents from us.”

And Moses calmed the people and said: “This serpent plague is not the work of our god Yahweh. Yahweh and the serpents work as a team, whenever they do whatever they do. The serpent is like the jester of Yahweh’s court: a divine fool, who is secretly the cleverest among his attorneys; he’s rather the deity’s double-goer than his nemesis. No, these snakes are not from our Volcano. As it is written, ‘if Antichrist cast out Antichrist, he is divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? Every kingdom thus divided is brought to desolation.’ [Mattew 12:25-26.] But the volcano of potential desires harmonization and prosperity, not death and destruction. To use fiery serpents as weapons is the signature move of Vice Chancellor Bunyan; so I assume this attack was launched from the Celestial City. He probably glimpsed us on his security monitor. Either that, or his gang of flying monkeys – that is to say, his host of cherubims – caught sight of us and tattled back to their master. Anyway, it’s no hindrance: although these creatures that he set upon us have indeed been genetically modified to breathe sparks, it’s not enough even to cause a burn; and it is our good luck that Aesculapian serpents are naturally nonvenomous. So all our people who appear to have perished are simply sleeping – it is called the placebo effect. Now, behold these snakes entwining my caduceus: they’re the same type, albeit slightly more brazen. So I can just touch everyone with this wand, and it shall heal them. In fact, all you need is to look at it and you will live. Those who have died shall resurrect, and those who are yet alive shall become born again.”

Thus Moses lifted up his caduceus, with the brazen serpents helixing its staff, and it happened that, if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld Moses holding the rod of god, he was cleansed holistically and became immaculate in body and mind. Any existing ailments were restored, and all sins were forgiven.

An attempted shortcut, and an early retirement

(Cont.)

Then Moses ordered a troop of ambassadors to be sent to the Celestial City, on the border of Munchkin Country, to Vice Chancellor Bunyan, with the following message:

“You know that your fellow tinkers in the workforce, after escaping from the Empire, have been traveling around in the wild lands for several years now. We were working at various chores, doing hard labor in the Empire, for a long time, and the economic system there was extremely unfair to us and our ancestors; so we cried out to the volcano of potential, and he heard our voice, and sent to us an angel who had the face of an eagle, and she has now carried us outside of the Empire and set us down in Munchkin Country, a domain near the extremities of your border, by the Enchanted Ground. Here is our prayer to you, O Dearest Vice Chancellor: Please let us pass through your domain. For we are near to the River of Death, which we believe we can cross, and then we would like to ascend Mount Zion; however, instead of heading directly into the Celestial City, and settling there, we aim to go straight through and into the adjacent realm of Emerald City. We have faith that your yellow brick roads connect to that place. We promise not to cause any trouble: we will not drink from your living waters nor eat any of your forbidden fruits. We will stay strictly on the high way that bears your name, turning neither to the right nor to the left, until we have traversed your rear border into the draught.”

But Vice Chancellor Bunyan berated the ambassadors that Moses had sent, and he sprinkled pink paint upon them, to humiliate them, and sent them back with this reply:

“You shall not use Celestial City as a shortcut to any other place in the world. This is man’s final home: Not a means to an end, but THE END ITSELF. There is no free lunch, no fast and easy route to bliss. Nothing shall be got for nothing. To obtain entry into the Celestial City, you must follow the straight and narrow way, like every other soul, out through the City of Destruction, and endure all its pitfalls; either that or suffer martyrdom. I repeat, I will in no wise honor your request. And I warn you: Do not try to sneak in without my knowledge, for I have placed cherubims and a flaming sword at every gate, to prevent all subterfuges.”

So Moses washed off his troop of ambassadors, and sent them back with the following plea:

“A message from Moses in the wilderness to Vice Chancellor Bunyan of the Celestial City: please consider that we of the escaped workforce of the Empire will adhere devoutly to the high way: and if I and my cattle drink of your living waters, then we will pay for it. All we are asking is for permission to tiptoe through on our bare feet: out to the neighboring dimension. We will not make much noise.”

But Vice Chancellor Bunyan drizzled more pink paint upon the ambassadors of Moses; and he smeared it around with his hands, to increase the insult; and he said: “You shall not go through.” And all of his armed forces came out against them; and there were millions of Christian soldiers, all holding bayonets.

Thus the Celestial City refused to allow the people of the working class to use it as a shortcut to the Promised Land.

§

So all the laborers of the workforce, even every soul from those multitudes that evacuated the Empire, turned and journeyed away from Mount Zion, until they arrived at its shadow-double: Shelley’s Mont Blanc. There the caravansary stopped and set up an encampment in the Vale of Chamouni.

And the volcano of potential met with Moses and Bryan, off the coast of the Celestial City, and said: “I must have missed something while I was resting – why is everyone here? I thought that we were all in agreement, and that the next step the people would take is to head into Emerald City, to mix and mingle with its citizens; and from there we would proceed to the other suburbs of India and into the rest of Eldorado. What happened that we find ourselves near Zion, and so close to the River of Death?”

So Moses answered, saying: “This move was my idea. Seeing that you and Bryan had both retired for the weekend and were yet again asleep, I thought I might make some progress; I hoped to surprise you pleasantly, but alas it turned out the opposite. My thought was that we might use the Celestial City as a shortcut into the better parts of Oz. I did not count on its Vice Chancellor being so unmerciful.”

The wild man blinked his goat eyes and said: “Yes, you have already witnessed me dealing with the people from the Church; this is nothing new. But what’s done is done. — Why, however, are you looking for a shortcut? We had already gained admittance to Emerald City easily with our espionage squads, by using the front main entrance: Why come all the way round like this, and risk the River of Death and Zion?”

Moses answered: “I was attempting to sidestep the ivy leaguers. To take this route, we circumvent all the zones that they are known to haunt. Plus I thought that our wand would work to lift the River of Death overhead, like we accomplished with the Red Ocean. I’m sorry – I realize how simpleminded my plan was, now that I look back.”

The wild man touched the shoulder of Moses and replied: “That’s OK, don’t worry about it; I forgive you. We’ll get out of this mess, it’s no problem. But I have some news for you. Bryan has informed me, by way of a dream, that he is ready to depart; he desires to return to Jupiter with Myala. So I have ordered a chariot for him. This actually works out well, that we’re here at Mont Blanc, which is the perfect place for his plaque. So here’s what we’ll do. Everyone will accompany Bryan up to the mountaintop; and we’ll have a ceremonial stripping: the royal robes shall be removed from Bryan and transferred to his robotic son Satyajit. (The kingship in essence will remain the personal property of Bryan, but we who abide here on Earth will keep the pomp and the costume.) Then a fiery chariot shall land on the peak of Mont Blanc, and Bryan shall be launched into the outer spaces to spend the next epoch or more with his beloved.”

So they did as the Volcano instructed: the armies of the workforce ascended far above, to the place where Mont Blanc pierces the infinite sky, and a jovial chariot appeared and used its hydraulic grabber-arm to scoop up Bryan, the Eternal King of America. Then it sped away, through Chaos, in the direction of Jove, on the path of a frozen rainbow, and disappeared into the blackness.

A rerun, and the option to split

(Cont.)

Then, exactly on the anniversary of their earlier arrival at the place, the wandering multitudes came to Fallout Rock again. Also known as Lynch Peak. Remember, it was here that Moses suffered a fallout with the entire populace, and its angry mobs almost lynched him, because they were dying of thirst; but then Bryan teamed up with the Volcano, and they caused a cascade of fresh drinking water to descend from the cliff. Now, however, this many years later, all those waters had dried up; or their source was re-corked or stoppered, for the stream was gone.

So the multitudes were dying of thirst again. This was the moment when Myala the black panther called it quits: she summoned a fiery chariot from heaven and went back to Jupiter, her native planet. “I’ll meet you at home, whenever you finish with these guys,” she said to her husband, Bryan the King. So the wild man with the goat eyes instructed the skilled seamstresses among the population to create a stuffed effigy of Myala; which he then buried beneath a plaque, to commemorate the location of her liftoff.

Now the attentive reader might ask: Why had the people arrived at the border of Rosemount, near the woods of Sin, again? Weren’t they intending to go into Emerald City, and then on to India, where Eldorado expands? Is the volcano of potential leading his population in circles; or did they at some point begin ambulating in reverse without realizing it? Could it be that the wilderness through which the multitudes are traveling is but a repeating loop of film projected behind them so as to create the illusion of motion, like what is known to the animators of cartoons as a “wraparound background”?

While the reader has been asking the above questions, the armies of wandering multitudes have begun railing against the Volcano at Fallout Rock: “It would have been better for us to remain wage-slaves in the Empire, for at least then we would have had enough water to drink.” The standard complaints of a perishing multitude. “All our livestock are dying; and there is no good land to plant crops.”

So Moses and Bryan said to the wild man whose hair completely encased his form: “What shall we do; tap the rock with our wand, like last time?”

And the wild man answered: “Here is my plan. Take the wand, Moses. You and your brother Bryan will gather the assembly together, and make a speech to the cliff before their eyes. It shall then release its water: a fresh cascade will come gushing down from the rock. In this way, you can offer refreshments to the congregation and their beasts.”

So Moses took the wand, as the wild man instructed, and he and Bryan herded the masses together before the cliffside. And Bryan went up and stood on the precipice. Then Moses tapped its base two times and waved his wand while announcing as follows:

“Let there be no longer any firmament in the midst of the waters, dividing the waters that are above from those that should be below. Let abundant geysers break out in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. And let the parched ground become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water. In the habitation of dragons, where each lay, let there be grass with reeds and rushes. Let the firmament no longer alone be called Heaven, but let the dry land that is newly watered become the Paradise of Earth.”

And while Moses was thus chanting at the cliff, Bryan rolled away the stone that had been blocking the upper wellspring, at which point a cascade of freshwater came gushing down for the people and their livestock to enjoy.

After this, the Volcano spoke to Moses and Bryan in private, saying: “Do as you like, but I am ready to lead the multitudes myself. Just me and the armies, alone in the wild together, touring the globe. What I’m trying to say is: Come along or not; it’s your call – if you have something you’d rather be doing, go ahead and pursue it. Any side-project or whatever. I don’t mean to push you away; but I just now realized, while watching you two at Lynch Peak, that it’s probably not necessary to have all three of us trying to pilot this caravansary. The triune nature of our headship might even be confusing the people, if only slightly – perhaps they would be better off with just one clear-cut captain. As it is written, ‘A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.’ How much worse, then, if the man is triple minded! But, like I said, it is completely up to you.”

Another contest to clarify the kingship

[The obligatory image was taken from my Superluminal Essay Suite 19, where it signifies the concept of “Fish Plant.” It does not signify anything in the present entry: I just needed a picture, because text should never appear in public without a chaperone.]

(Cont.)

And, at dinner, the wild man said to the multitudes: “I truly wanted to enjoy a pilgrimage with you all . . . a road trip, a journey; some sort of adventure – an odyssey. I thought that we could tour the surrounding lands, and visit each one, and mix and mingle with the various people. But it seems that questions of allegiance and authority keep causing us to stall. So let me try to curtail all future skirmishes by clarifying our setup here. I, the Volcano, am your captain, insofar as I’m the one who’s governing the caravan: that’s only because I know where to go, and how to get there; for I’ve been here before (I’ve been all around the world!) – lo, I established all these other nations, and I have certain ideas about how I’d like for you people to live as well. And I appointed Moses to be my spokesman when your group was still in the Empire; but Moses didn’t fancy the idea, so I appointed Bryan to be his spokesman in turn. Then, when we had our feast on my home hill, I instigated a formality wherein Bryan was crowned the King of Kings – ‘King’ simply means ‘Christ’ – and I anointed him with oil, thus making him my ‘Anointed One,’ my ‘Messiah.’ Now, unfortunately, enough of your recently deceased comrades forgot these facts, and they set up Messiahs and Christs of their own, being led astray by convoluted arguments from Roman crackpots who secretly serve the creditor class. But, like I said, I wish to minimize the amount of time that we all spend arguing; therefore, let us, once and for all, determine officially, by democratic means, who is my favorite monarch and co-author. – What is it, Moses; you look like you would like to speak?”

Moses then spoke up: “I am only having some misgivings now – wondering if it may have been truly impolitic when I broke the stone tablets that you handed me on the hillside; for I recall that they contained a clear list of the royal line, and other useful information.”

“Forget the tablets,” said the Volcano. “Here’s my idea. Everyone who desires to be my favorite monarch and co-author should place his stave or staff (or his crook or crozier – whatever you use to herd your goats) on the same mantelshelf where we performed our censer experiment. Then I’ll take a look at each of them separately, and whichever one seems best, I will publicly honor by placing a bouquet of flowers before it; and whoever that implement belongs to shall be the winner. Does that sound fair?”

And all the multitudes cheered and held high their grails.

“OK,” said the wild man with the abundant hair, “now, all contenders, stand on your marks . . . get set . . .” then, instead of shouting “go!” or shooting a starting gun to begin the competition, there was a deafening thunderclap.

All the aspiring opportunists from the multitudes then walked over to the mantelshelf and deposited their sceptres, hoping to be elected King.

Now the volcano of potential arose and approached the shelf, to peruse the collection. One by one, he stood before each implement; whereupon that item, apparently sensing the presence of its judge, would cause a vision to bubble up in a dream-funnel directly above itself: and every one of these visions had a background of paradise, with a classical nude in the foreground; and they were all very beautiful. However, the goddess that appeared above the twining serpents of Bryan’s caduceus was in a glass coffin, and this greatly appealed to the Volcano, so he clutched it and held it high and said:

“This one is the best. To whom does it belong?”

Then Bryan arose from his seat and went up before the multitudes and held out his hand. And the wild man placed the wand into his palm, and it fit there perfectly. Thus was Bryan reconfirmed in his high office as the King of Kings, by popular vote.

And, from that day on, all the people who had once been members of the Church feared that, every time they drew near to the Tabernacle of Potential, they would meet their death by heavenly firebolt or the earth would swallow them. So it was difficult for the rest of the population to get them to join in on public gatherings, feasts and dances. But it never failed that, sooner or later, they could be prevailed upon to participate; and they were always happy and thankful when they did.

The aftermath of the tourney

(Cont.)

Now, amid thunderclaps, the gargantuan ogre bowed to the Volcano; then he pivoted his vast form and began to approach the division of the masses that had joined the Church, as if he would consume them in an instant.

But the Volcano lifted his arms and commanded the colossal jinn, saying, “Baal-Peor, desist! Be not hasty to destroy the entire people, for they know not what they do. Save my wrath for the leadership of the priesthood, who have opposed me here today. Spare the rest of the flock: for I wish to give them many more chances. You may presently retire: go back to the underworld of Sheol. I will summon your power when I see fit.”

The massive spirit of Baal-Peor bowed low, amid rolling thunder, and returned whence he had come.

So the wild man with the goat eyes instructed Moses and Bryan to go gather together and guide back into the multitudes whichever laypeople from the opposing congregation desired to be rescued. Thus they rose up and ran forth to help any from the Catholics, Protestants, Baptists, and all the other sects, who were willing to rejoin humanity. And they urged the members of these congregations, saying: “Depart, we pray you, from among these subjugating men, lest you be consumed in all their stubbornness.”

So the laypeople withdrew from the Church; and they came back and reunited with the multitudes, on the side of the Volcano. Thus the priesthood, the Church Fathers and clergymen, were all that remained in the opposition camp.

And the wild man stood before the congregations and announced: “Today, with your own eyes, you have witnessed the proof of science, as it was manifested in the result of our experiment. And you shall certainly know that I am the volcano of potential, when you see what happens next. Take one last look at these Church Fathers, who led so many of you astray. Let me propose an additional experiment. I shall cause their cartel to disband; but the way that this shall come to pass will tell you something about my position in the universe. For, if these men end up enjoying a fruitful existence for the rest of their days on earth, and die peacefully in their sleep, at which point their souls float up to the clouds to be with their sky-god, then this will verify that I, the Volcano, am wrong about reality. However, on the other hand, if all these priests, pastors, ministers, bishops and clergymen go down alive into the pit, into the underworld of Sheol, this afternoon, in one great plunge, then you should conclude that I, the volcano of potential, am not to be trifled with.”

And it happened that, immediately after the wild man finished his speech, the ground beneath the Churchmen clave asunder, and the earth opened her mouth and swallowed them up. Their houses also fell in after them, and their belongings: all that appertained to the priesthood got devoured. The clergymen went down alive to the pit, and the earth closed upon them. Thus did they take their leave from this world.

Now the laypeople that remained were so severely shaken by this event that they fled in terror and panicked: they screamed while scampering about, flailing their arms and saying: “The earth will surely swallow us also!”

§

Now Bryan constructed an android that he called his son. And while Sheol was eating the priesthood, the wild man with the goat eyes spoke to Bryan, saying: “Instruct your robot offspring Satyajit to collect the censers of the deceased clerics from off the mantelshelf, and refashion them in the furnace, for they have sentimental value for me now. Those clergymen gave their eternal lives to challenge me: there’s something touching about that. Once the censers have melted, tell Satyajit to hammer them smooth, and install them as plates before the furnace where we do all our cooking. They shall be considered sacred, for those men offered up their souls to be burnt sacrifices before the volcano of potential.”

So Satyajit the robo-son of Bryan took the brazen censers, with which they who died by firebolt had competed in the experiment; and they were beaten into broad plating and then displayed round about the kitchen area. To this day, they still hang as a reminder to the workforce never to follow the Christian priesthood of any sect: only believe in the Volcano.

§

The next morning, all the congregation that had formerly joined the Church awoke with the memory of what had happened the previous day. So they gathered and made a formal complaint against the wild man, in front of Moses and Bryan, saying: “You have slaughtered our Church’s leadership!”

And Moses and Bryan stood between the accusers and the volcano of potential, because the crowd was set on violence. Yet it happened that, as the mobs began to shove and press forward, lo, rolling thunder was heard, and clouds of darkness billowed up from behind the horde. Through these clouds could now be seen a bluish glow, and the enormous hoof of Baal-Peor manifested itself: his leg was hovering in the air, just overhead, ready to crush the accusers beneath it.

The Volcano addressed the giant genie: “Be not hasty, Baal-Peor. There are friends here among the foes. Think hard before you stomp.”

And now the mob of accusers became aware of the threat that was looming directly above them. Some tried to retreat, and others, having a change of heart, leapt forward to supplicate the Volcano. And Moses and Bryan stood between the two groups, hoping that the titanic hoof would avoid clopping them.

At last, Baal-Peor stomped down.

Now they that were crushed numbered fourteen thousand and seven hundred souls. Add that to the amount who died earlier, in the episode with the clergy, and it will give you the full death toll.

And the hoof narrowly missed stepping on Bryan and Moses; it fell right in front of them: wham! And they felt a wind when it landed.

So, after this tragedy, they went back to the great hall of the big top and dined with the wild man.

A pregame letdown, followed by the official tourney

(Cont.)

Then Moses spoke up and addressed the denominations of the Church, and said: “Hear this, you believers in the Roman Paul’s blood sacrifice. You think it is a small favor that the champion of the workforce allows you to set up your places of worship among the tabernacles in the camp, and to stunt the people’s imaginations and siphon away their energies; so that now your ambition will no longer be satisfied with this fair treatment, but you aspire to usurp the very place of the volcano of potential? And for this cause, you have set aside your usual infighting, and ceased the bickering between your many subgroups, so as to stand united as adversaries against the Volcano? Also, despite our treating you with respect, as equals and family, you badmouth Bryan and myself, and slander our characters?”

Then Bryan scheduled a symposium, where they might discuss the above concerns while drinking and dining, followed by a dance-off (a competition in which disputants dance with each other until they reach an agreement), to take place before the day of the Volcano’s censer experiment. And he sent out invitations to the Church’s big three branches: the Catholics, Protestants, and Baptists. But they all three returned a joint-message saying: “We will not attend.” And, when pressed, they explained their reason for being unwilling even to talk things over with their fellow-travelers: “You think it is a small offense,” the Big Three replied, “that you dragged us away from our gainful employment in the Empire, a realm where our Churches enjoyed a tax-exempt status, and then abandoned us to wander about here in the wild land under a chief who is clearly insane? You have not brought us to Eldorado of India, or given us money or land or power. And now, on top of all that, you wish to depose our mediators who stand between the people and heaven, to seize the position of middle-man for yourself? No, thank you; there is nothing for us to discuss. We shall sit this dance out.”

When Moses read this response, he was saddened. And he said to Yahweh the volcano god: “Respect not their offering, when they put out their censer at your scientific test. And do not believe them if they claim that I accepted any bribes – I have not taken a single ass from them. Neither have I threatened any of them, nor assaulted nor interrogated them: my days in the intelligentsia are over, unlike their mastermind Paul the Roman.”

Then Yahweh the volcano god addressed all the clerics: “Tomorrow is the day. We shall conduct our experiment to prove who is the only true Creator. Be present at the Tabernacle of Potential: you, and all the branches of the Church that wish to compete. Bryan also will be there with me. Don’t forget to bring your censers.”

§

Then, when the day of the experiment arrived, every man took his censer, and put fire and incense in them, and they brought them into the engine room of the Tabernacle of Potential, and set them on the mantelshelf. And there were two hundred and fifty censers, total.

So all the clergymen and Yahweh the volcano god stepped back and waited, while beholding the censers lined up on the shelf. And everyone wondered what might happen next. The scroll on which the plan of the experiment was preserved stated that the censer corresponding to the Maker and Sustainer of Spacetime should receive a visitation from the spirit of his murdered father. Those were the rules.

And the whole congregation stood watching with bated breath, inside the door-flap of the chamber that held the Furnace of Potential. Yet the Church corralled away its members from the multitude, and they were brought to the other side of the tent, where they formed a separate congregation; thus the workforce was divided. And they continued to wait for the test results.

Soon, out of the furnace came floating what looked like fireflies: many faint phantoms of Christ, about the size of fairies. These took their places beside the censers of their respective denominations. Seeing this, the clergymen thought themselves successful.

But, at the same time, a thick bluish sparkling smoke billowed up and formed an entity of terrible aspect, of dreadful make, which was an hundredfold bigger than the other ghosts. When the Churchmen beheld this, their hearts were almost eradicated – their reason fled from them; and they were stupefied. The being had two huge wings, and four arms; one pair like those of the sons of Adam, and one pair like the forelegs of lions, with bloodstained claws. He was black and stout, and the hair on his head was like the tails of rattlesnakes. He had two eyes like burning coals; and a third eye, in his forehead, like the eye of the lynx, from which there flew sparks of fire. With a thunderclap, this towering giant announced his name as Baal-Peor; then he cast the surrounding Christs into the furnace, as he took his place beside the censer of Yahweh.

Once the Christs hit the flames, each one burst ablaze and ricocheted back at whoever had summoned him: in this way, all two hundred and fifty clergymen were struck and burnt to ashes by heavenly firebolts.

Moses, having witnessed this, turned aside and said to Bryan: “What just occurred?” And Bryan replied:

“The Volcano is proven victorious. For the censers of the Christian sects could only summon echoes of Saint Paul’s Christ, who was unable to budge the scientific truth, since he is a son who was killed by his father; whereas the guidelines of the experiment stated that the visitation must be from a father who was murdered by his son. And, long ago, this Baal-Peor was slain by Yahweh.”

A tourney: intro

(Cont.)

Now let me tell one more bad event that happened, before moving on to the rest of the Volcano’s road trip. I hate even to mention such misfortunes, but my aim is to maintain a truthful record here, and the fact is that there was a great deal of ugliness that occurred early on, when the workforce was wandering.

Alright, so here’s the issue. There was this faction made up of certain managerial types among the working populace – it’s true that the actual, official taskmasters and overseers from the Empire had been defeated: they were all now sleeping at the bottom of the Red Ocean, which closed over their heads when the workforce left the Empire; but, from among the laborers who escaped and were journeying with the volcano of potential, there existed individuals who naturally possessed a tendency to be bossy and to police people and to be bullies – some called themselves gurus and yogis, others took the title of deacon or minister, and they called themselves the Fathers of the Church, also known as clergymen, and bishops and pastors, and many other names. Reverend such-and-such; most honorable so-and-so. Do you get the picture?

Now these churchmen rose up before the Volcano, with a smattering of the members of the workers who had been coerced into following them – whether Catholic, Protestant, Baptist, or the various other sects, they all united under the common banner of the Church – and they gathered themselves together and stood as a bloc against the Volcano, and they said unto him:

“You bit off more than you could chew, when you set yourself up as the god of the entire workforce. Only the Church is equipped to handle a task of that magnitude; for we are all of us children of our Father in Heaven, and we are sons and daughters of the Most High, and the only true Creator appointed the Church to represent him to the people, and we are his clergy, his clerics, his priesthood, his ministry, his holy orders: the populace needs us to serve as intermediaries between them and the Almighty. It is madness and confusion to expect each individual to speak directly to the Volcano: We accuse you of being an imposter. How dare you lift yourself up above the congregation of the Church!”

And when the goat-eyed wild man heard this, he shook his head sadly and then answered the clergymen, saying: “I don’t desire to proclaim my own greatness – that would be inapt: I think it’s better for others to come to their own conclusion about how mighty I am. I’ll only remind you, once again, that it was I who caused all those frogs to congest the Empire; and I also made all the swarms of flies and locusts devastate the land. The King’s intelligentsia could not even manage to copy my lice plague. They were baffled: they had never known about such a spell. I also inflicted them with hideous, painful boils on their flesh: you saw that. But, enough. I could go on for days reminding you of the different marvels that I performed, all of which you witnessed with your own eyes. Forget the past, though; let’s just focus on the future. You doubt me? Fine, let’s put it to the test. I’m a man of science; let’s let the hard facts speak for themselves. So, what do you churchmen think would be a good contest? How about this: Let’s conduct an experiment, to prove which one of us is truly divine. Thus, once and for all, we shall find out exactly who is the Maker of All the Worlds, whether it be your Church’s cloud-god, or me myself, the volcano of potential. Here are the details:

“Let us each take a censer – you know what I mean by that term? I’m referring to those ornate metallic vessels that you clergymen use to burn incense in your religious ceremonies. Each of us shall take one; as many as wish to compete, bring a censer for your god. (I’m not sure if you Reformed Protestants consider your god to be the same or different from the god of the Catholics, the Lutherans, or the Baptists, not to mention the Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Pentecostals, or the various other cults – you can all either share a censer, or take a censer of your own.) I’ll also take one for myself. Then we’ll all put fire into our censers, as well as incense; and we’ll set them on the mantelshelf before the furnace in the Tabernacle of Potential. And we’ll stand for a moment and gaze upon all the censers lined up on the shelf there, wondering what shall happen next. Then, suddenly, the censer corresponding to the legitimate Creator and Sustainer of Spacetime shall receive a visitation from the ghost of his murdered father. Does that sound like a fair test? Ha! This will be too easy. You priests are in way over your heads, this time.”