Blessed Are The Laser Makers.

Blessed are the Laser Makers.

The man in the black robe stood quietly in semi darkness holding a small black book in his folded hands. His head was bowed, and he remained motionless for a long time before opening the book. He lifted it with great reverence and started reading.

'And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him,' he said. He closed the book again and lowered it in front of him.

Behind the priest, and on either side, the light faded into a darkness that held the hint of some waiting horror; something observing with an unknown and unknowable intent. In front of him, illuminated by a sickly light from an unknown source, sat the great Humunculous. It was eight feet tall sitting on its black throne, and held in one of it's upturned scaly hands, the great Orb of Rharthos, symbol and source of all its power. Its head was almost a meter wide, and it had two great red eyes set wide apart and a third, much larger, which sat above them in its forehead which moved about at random.

'Why would they do that?' it said in a low voice that felt like an avalanche of cold gravel.

'Who my lord?' said the priest.

'The descaples,' said the beast. 'Was he offering them meat?'

'No my lord,' said the priest, 'they loved him.'

'Why did they love him if not for meat?' it said.

'Do you remember our lesson from a week ago where the Lord said, 'I have meat to eat that you know not of?' said the priest.

'He had meat and he didn't give it to his soldiers?' said the beast his voice becoming threatening.

'What kind of a leader is that?' It moved forward in the seat and its great fleshy tongue flicked in and out, and side to side.

'He was trying to share it with them, but they doubted him,' said the priest.

All the beasts eyes were on him now as it sat still. The priest kept his eyes down cast in a show of humility. They had been here before.

'He was offering them spiritual meat,' said the priest. After a minute or two the beast said,

'Did they get it?'

'Yes my lord,' said the priest. 'It took a while but they got it in the end.'

'What did it taste like?' said the beast.

'Ahhh,' said the priest conscious of the importance his next words, 'It doesn't have a taste on the normal way my lord, more like a feeling.'

'Slippery, like liver?' said the beast now looking confused.

'No my lord, more like the feeling of meeting an old friend,' said the priest.

'Hmmm,' said the beast clearly unimpressed. 'I don't like the taste of old friends.'

'Did they have to kill any one?' said the beast hopefully.

'No my lord,' said the priest.

'Hmmmph, Where's the fun in that?' Said the beast. 'What's the point in eating meat if you don't get to kill it first?'

The priest looked carefully left and right while keeping his head perfectly still. On previous occasions he had gotten the distinct impression that there were watchers in the darkness that were evaluating his words; weighing each one like a fishmonger might measure his wares. He fancied that he could hear, just out of earshot, cold laughter and a heartless calculus going on that could mean his summery death. It had been a long hard road but the end was in sight.

'Do you remember, my lord how we discussed the ten commandments?' said the priest.

'No, please, refresh my memory,' said the Beast sitting back on his throne with a smirk now spreading across it's face. This time there was no doubt, the rough sound of slithering came out of the darkness like.

'Thou shalt not kill,' said the priest.

'Kill who?' said the beast.

'Kill anyone,' said the priest.

'Not even your enemies?' said the beast. It's large mouth twisted into a shape that the priest read now as scorn. But there was something else; a lack of conviction. The priest judged that this was the right time.

'Especially your enemies,' said the priest.

'Why would he say that,' said the Beast. It was very faint, but there was a note of curiosity in his voice: Grudging but it was there. It was the first time he had used the personal pronoun in reference to the priest's god.

'What ever you do to others, they can do to you,' said the priest.

'Like what,' said the Beast, his nostrils flaring.

'Kill,' said the priest. 'Kill you.'

'I'd kill them first!' yelled the beast,' sitting forward in its throne, projecting a shower of alien saliva and holding the gigantic laser up in then air that he kept mounted on the side of his throne.

'Yes of course my lord,' said the priest. 'That is why you are the ruler of the galaxy'.

'Mmmmph,' the Beast said again. The race of hyper evolved reptilian creatures that now ruled Earth had indeed conquered the entire galaxy, but it was a sore point among them that they hadn't been able to cross the vastness of intergalactic space to conquer other galaxies.

'Here on Earth we haven't had any wars for the last 500 years,' said the priest.

'How boring,' said the beast. 'What do you do to fill in the time?' It said. Again the priest heard a note of curiosity.

'We write music,' said the priest.

'We have music,' said the beast. 'Would you like to heard some?'

'Yes, very much my lord,' said the priest. Then the beast started singing. It sang in it's own language which was harsh, consisting of many of gutteral sounds, hard consonants and sibilants set to a repetitive tune that reminded the priest of football songs or pub ditties. The suggestive power however was undeniable, and had the priest figuring in his mind scenes of conflict, struggle and heroic resolution. And at intervals now, there was something like a chorus where the priest could hear singing coming from the darkness around him.

When the beast had finished singing, the priest paused respectfully and said, 'Thank you my lord, that was truly inspiring. Your enemies will flee in terror'.

Then after an interval, he pulled a rectangular recording device from his pocket and pressed one of the buttons. From the small black machine came a group of sublime voices that sang in blocks of chords with a theme that wove in and out and around, like a fish darting and flashing, enticing and eluding, in a wall of harmonies. It was a song of praise. The Beast was rendered motionless while the music was playing, and at the end, stared at a point on the floor some where in front of him.

'I have five brothers and three sisters,' said the priest. The beast was silent as it returned the priest's gaze.

'Each of my brothers and sisters has several children,' said the priest. From the darkness the priest heard nothing, only silence and an intense listening. He looked up and saw that from the corner of the Beast's eyes, the two on either side of his face, there had formed large tears that built up and fell down his cheeks onto his leather tunic.

'They are all doing well,' he said looking directly at the beast. My favourite niece, well my favourite pair of nieces, they are twins you see, they are learning piano and play for their father who is paralysed and confined to a wheel chair...'

'My nephews are all dead,' said the beast.

'I am sorry to hear it,' said the priest folding the book and looking back down at the ground.

'I have lived a long time,' said the Humunculus.

'I know,' said the priest.

'I have lost many nephews and killed many nephews' it said.

'I can give you relief,' said the priest, 'all you need to do is confess and you will have peace.'

'I have never know peace,' said the beast.

......................................................

The priest stepped out onto the porch of the old Parliament house and into the sunlight. It commanded a view of the old city, and for as far as the eye could see, thin lines of smoke rose from countless cooking fires. What was once a forest of tall buildings, the proud nerve centre of a civilisation, was now a collection of the smashed stumps, like blackened teeth in the mouth of an old man.

He had worked in his field for many decades, giving relief to the hardest cases, murderers, rapist and paedophiles, all of whom had clung to their false pride like drowning men to life preservers. In the end they all cracked, their hard exteriors giving way like dam walls, releasing a flood of built up scum which they held inside them.

The ceremony took place in the Thames. The Beast's family, together with all the generals and dignitaries of the administration were assembled with him on the bank. Many of them appeared to be there under sufferance which they did little to hide, but of course what they wanted or didn't want was of no consequence. The Grand Humunculus stepped gingerly into the water with the priest and prepared himself to be submerged, but before he did, he handed him his most prised possession; the Orb of Rharthos.

'I will give it straight back,' said the priest. Then the Beast fell backwards into the dirty grey, freezing waters, his head supported with the priest's left hand. With the other, the priest held the Orb aloft and repeated the words he had heard so often before from the green lips of the filthy, murderous beast.

'Aaaahd, AAAhDhaaaahhh, GrAAAAAhdDaaaangGaaaaaah'. At that moment, all the beast's family as well as attendants, civil dignitaries and generals fell to their knees and buried their faces in their hands as if in fear of their lives. And, as the Great Beast, who had brought so many worlds to their knees and inflicted so much misery on so many creatures rose out of the cold waters, the priest pulled a long rusty, serrated knife out of his robes, and stabbed him in the neck. As the filthy reptile looked up into the face of the man who had promised him moral redemption and peace of mind, his rust coloured blood flowed freely into the waters of the North Sea, and he sank dying, into the cold waters.

The priest held the orb above his head and looked at the alien nobility who were assembled there.

'You will henceforth obey only me and my issue,' he said pulling the dead face of the Humunculous out of the water, 'and you will renounce your allegience to this filthy piece of flesh.' His face was as hard as flint.

As the priest spoke, the orb began to resonate in his hand and he felt the same power that had allowed the Beast to dominate so many others like himself, self-willed, insolent and treacherous, and he saw in a moment, the glory that could be his if he would but allow that power to work through him. He walked out of the water and ascended the bank the alien beasts parting for him as he came.

He reached the top where a group of his fellow priests stood, looking on with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

'And you, my brothers, will be the instraments of my power as I set to rights all the harms done by our beastly overlords.' Relief turned to horror as they saw their hoped for freedom pass from them to be replaced by a new tyranny.

'Just kidding,' said the priest as he dropped the orb into a lead lined box which was specially designed to block its emanations. 'Had you going for a moment there didn't I,' he said grinning and winking at them.

'Very amusing,' said one of the other men as he pulled his black robe over his head and dropped it onto the ground. They all did the same.

'Well done,' he said, 'what were you before the invasion?'

'A psychoanalyst,' replied the man who was now no longer a priest.

'Figures,' said the first, 'stupid bastards never really had a chance did they?'

'Nope,' he replied.