Earth Day

This is a chapter that forms part of a novel-length series called “The Spirit Cipher” which you can find in my writings on bibli. The series is written in multi-POV featuring widely varying perspectives and voices.

Harrington

It’s always a joy to see the visiting Leader families, here for the Earth Day Prayers. I especially look forward to meeting the ones who are visiting this city or even the Region for the first time. Many of them have never visited any city. Most of the visiting Leaders, like most Leaders generally, enjoy, quite deservedly in view of the past work and sacrifices of their great families, a life of full-time leisure in the far off Beauty Areas set aside for their exclusive enjoyment.

Leisure activities among the majority leisure cohort of Leaders are pursued privately, and rarely include open displays of creativity or self-expression. There is no need for public creative expression among the Leader class. But we do consume art and entertainment produced by others, which I’m certain we’ll enjoy together in the form of the always excellent music at the Earth Day Prayers.

A very few Leaders of the leisure cohort do produce some forms of self-expression, but only in matters relating to political, social or religious ideology. In past years we’ve enjoyed visits from a few Leaders who as a pastime have written books or essays on the subject of political or religious doctrine, with either esoteric informative value aimed within the Leader class, or exoteric propaganda value aimed at the lower classes. Those are some of my favourite visits.

We’re not quite so fortunate this year but we are nonetheless honoured by the anticipated visit of several Leader families who enjoy extremely interesting and rich lives out in the distant Beauty Areas.

There are just a couple among this year’s visiting Leaders, who, like me, actually lead things. They lead things like corporations, military forces, institutions and organizations. I of course lead my administrative Region, and as such the visiting Leaders are my guests.

Like them, I am by birthright a member of the Leader class which, openly now, owns and controls everything and everyone, for the good of the planet.

The visiting Leaders will be accompanied by teams of their specialized professional servants who from birth have been proud members of the Infotech class.

For the Earth Day ceremonies, all Infotechs, and about an equal number of BuilderHelpers, from the Admin district of the city will be present. Other Earth Day ceremonies will be held elsewhere for other districts. Among the Infotechs, some of the musically creative and talented members of the Art Division will be present to provide live music and visuals. The Art Division Infotechs are the ones who have been identified as creative or talented, usually from childhood, and have been assigned to purely creative vocations.

Anyone versed in strategies and mechanisms of social control knows that creative and artistic expression is the most effective form of either political and religious propaganda, or political and religious subversion. Past administrations attempted to impose strict control on the output and general behaviour of the creative Infotechs, bearing in mind the historically, maybe, elevated risk, very generally and broadly speaking, of a tendency toward insanity, criminality, alcohol and narcotic use, sexual immorality and degeneracy among them, as roughly identified in works such as those of the great Prophet of Old, I can’t recall, I think it might have been the eugenicist Davenport. But paradoxically, the past administrations found that strict control only resulted in increasingly subtle and effective forms of subversion, along with increasingly sublime and sometimes inscrutable art. So a more subtle approach was adopted. Today, the Holy Council For Godly Creativity (usually referred to as the Art Division) is constantly working to find the ideal balance between control, on one hand, and a feeling of “freedom”, on the other hand, for the creative types.

Notwithstanding the generally high intelligence of the Infotechs, they, without exception, feel, and most certainly exhibit, total loyalty to their betters. This is the case even among the creative types. This loyalty is bred and conditioned in them from before birth.

David

The door to my small glass office is closed. On my workspace in front of me is the usual setup: Raw text on the left, my notes on the right. I’m looking at a set of Special Prophecies that just came down from the Supreme Council. I’ve read it a second time and I’m starting to get some meaning out of it.

I have to read the Prophecies the old fashioned way, without engaging my neurotech, or else it doesn’t work. The process is always the same.

On the first reading it makes no sense at all, and I decide that finally, I will be exposed as a fraud, and I look forward to taking on some normal job like a normal person.

On the second reading I make some preliminary notes and if necessary research the historical precedents and academic literature, as well as my own notes from my time learning, then teaching, at the Academy. People would be surprised at the many and varying ancient religious traditions the language and style of the Prophecies are drawn from, or somehow parallel. It doesn’t all come from one set of writings, or from the Prophets Of Old whose statues line the Plaza. I don’t know if it’s unknowingly done, or intentional on the part of the Supremes, but the meanings of their Prophetic writings and utterances often become clear to me only after a review of various ancient writings, sometimes including materials officially seen as heretical by today’s laws. I along with everyone in my unit are officially allowed to access and possess heretical writings for research purposes, but we’re bound by a strict ethical code that forbids us to reveal or discuss the research that helps us interpret the Prophecies. If the general public knew of all the materials we access, they would not react with the kind of detached academic interest that is necessary in our line of work. They would only see heresy or demonic influence.

I always find it ironic that people who know what I do tend to expect that I must be a religious purist or even a zealot, when the truth is that religious zealotry would make my work impossible. Of course, I don’t spend any time or effort correcting anyone about their perception of me. Why would I?

After the second round of reading a new set of Prophecies, I typically set it all aside and let it bounce around in my mind for a while.

I’ll come back to it later and read everything a third time and it will become very clear. I’ll then write a rough draft of analysis and policy recommendations. I’ll pass it to a Junior Prophecy Analyst to fill in some data and check the numbers, maybe run some policy scenarios, and once I get that back, I’ll write the final report and give it to Harrington’s Administration team, who will politely explain that they have no idea what I’m talking about. They’ll ask if I can simplify it, make it shorter, and so on. But they always understand it once I meet with them to go through it. Then after some final refinements, and a final say from the Administration team, the work can be implemented as Prophetic Edicts of the Supreme Council for the year, the quarter, or as Special Edicts if it’s mid-term. The Supremes do not review or comment on the final version of the Edicts or the policies that result. Accordingly, there is a sense of limited creative licence in the way my team interprets, and the Administration team implements, the Prophecies.

From outside I can hear my three Junior Analysts chattering and joking. As they pass my office I look up at them and instead of walking past, they stop and stand there looking at me with facial expressions that mimic stupidity and confusion. They always try to get me to laugh at things they know I find funny, and I try not to. But I can’t help smiling and shaking my head slowly in feigned disapproval. They laugh and break up their pantomime. One of them politely pokes her head in my door.

She says quietly, “Hey David. Earth Day Prayers, we’re heading down there. You coming?”

“Oh yes, of course, thanks Lauren, I’ll be right down there. You guys go ahead.”

“Okay, see you down there David.” They all head out. They know very well that it’s customary for the senior people to walk in a bit later than the juniors, but they stopped to acknowledge me instead of just walking past.

I swipe my workstation closed, chug the rest of my coffee, and put on my jacket. I catch my reflection in the glass. Not too bad, not too rumpled. I pause and exhale, feeling slightly energized as my neurotech syncs back up. I head out toward the lift.

I emerge into the concourse outside the auditorium where this year’s Earth Day Prayers will be held. I see a long row of various styles of autonomous bodyguards. They’re all spotlessly clean and shining. Some look like they’d be fast, some look strong, some look strangely friendly. Just a couple of them are clearly meant to look dangerous. The bodyguards are always sent in advance of the Leader families’ arrival. Now they’re just parked, looking completely dormant, like they’re powered off. I look at them sideways with my eyes as I pass them. One of them moves its head and I hurry through the auditorium door.

As I enter the auditorium, I hear the low murmur of the crowd settling in. I hear some random tones from the musicians in the pit up front, preparing their Neuro Sonic Composer interfaces. Everyone from the Administration district is here. The senior Infotechs are still filing in but almost everyone is already seated.

The BuilderHelpers are seated in the back rows and in the bleacher-style seating around the sides. Many of them look solemn, some already in a praying posture. A few of them are still fidgeting and chatting, and I hear one whisper “Shush! Be quiet!”

Sitting in the floor-level seats in front of the BuilderHelpers are the Junior Infotechs. Most of them are watching the senior Infotechs file in. As I sidle in to a row nearer the front, I’m conscious of being watched.

“What does he do?”

“Hey, I know him, he lectures at the Academy.”

“Prophet or something.”

“No, he’s a Policy guy I think.”

I imagine myself turning to them and saying without irony: Maybe when you figure out what I do, you can explain it to me.

As I take my seat, I hear the chiming melody, like a subtle electronic flourish, announcing the arrival of the Leaders.

Everyone goes still and quiet to observe as the Leaders enter to take their seats in the first three rows. As they enter, they do not look at anyone around them.

Each year a different group of invited Leader families make the trip in to the city to attend. Most of these Leaders would otherwise be way out somewhere in the Beauty Areas, in their ski chalets, beach houses or ranches, or out on their yachts, but they consider their attendance a duty and an honour and they take it seriously. I think it’s an indication of their social status too.

There seem to be about five families representing the Leader class this year. The families always include pairs who have sacrificially submitted themselves to, and been approved for, monogamous sexual relationships and, they say, physical childbirth through the woman’s body.

Each family consists of one or two elderly people accompanied by their middle-aged children and their sexual partners, a few young-adult grandchildren, some with sexual partners, and some small great-grandchildren. Some of the youngest children hold the hands of their mothers, while others are encouraged to walk on their own.

Some of the BuilderHelpers can’t help quietly fawning and pointing at the sight of the young children wearing their formal clothing. Others stare with a look of stifled horror as they consider the stomach-churning possibility that these children, if what we are told is true, have gestated inside the woman’s body and have then been ripped out of the woman through her vagina, a process that must result in unimaginable pain and disfigurement, and sometimes does result in death to the woman, the child, or both. It’s said that the process often causes lasting mental anguish to the woman. There are rumours that the process sometimes produces a child with shameful, cursed defects or sickness, but the resulting sacrifice of the child is said to atone for the spiritual error of the parents in failing to effectually declare God’s obedience.

As the families pass by through the middle aisle I see the group of personal assistants following at a discreet distance that emphasizes their separateness from the Leaders. Oh, there’s Kade. He sees me and I give a small wave and a grim smile appropriate to the occasion. He raises a hand and nods. I remember him, he’s the personal assistant and pilot for the Regional Leader Harrington. He spends so much time around Harrington, he’s almost starting to look like one of them. I remember speaking with him and being surprised by his good questions about some pretty obscure theo-political history.

It takes several minutes for the families and their assistants to take their seats. The assistants sit directly behind the families. I watch one woman hold her hand up beside her head and snap lightly, and one of the Infotechs places a comms tablet into her hand. She uses it, then holds it up and the assistant takes it.

The Regional Administrative Leader, Harrington, has walked in discreetly behind the Leader families and taken his seat in the front row at one end, up on the left. Kade has managed to get a seat in the front row right beside Harrington.

Seeing Harrington reminds me that I’ll be meeting with his admin team in the next few days. Harrington might be there himself. It’s never unpleasant, exactly, meeting with Harrington. It’s just hard to get a read on him, unlike so many other people whose feelings I can see whether I want to or not. But maybe I prefer it that way with him.

Finally, the lights in the auditorium dim. Everyone goes silent and waits for a few moments in total darkness.

A deep bass tone fades in with a solemn note of high strings over it.

An image on the huge panoramic display fades in, very slowly. What is it?

The music briefly swells and then contracts into a single melancholy, fragile, halting piano melody just as the image comes into focus. I notice that the piano sounds slightly broken and raw and distant, like an ancient upright piano playing in another room in an old house. It sparks the creative impulse in me. But I remember to focus on the service.

The lonely sound of the piano emphasizes genuine sadness and real loss. The music and atmosphere is unrelentingly sad. The Art Div people are so good at creating these atmospheres.

The image on the display is people. They fade into each other. Faces of happy, laughing people, people dancing, people celebrating, people crying, people hugging. After a minute, words fade in over the images and a young man’s voice says the words quietly, but clearly over the sound system:

WE REMEMBER THEM ALL.

WE HONOUR THEM, ALWAYS.

WE LEARN FROM THEIR SACRIFICE.

GOD IS TURNING OUR SADNESS INTO JOY.

IT IS THE WILL OF THE MANIFESTED GODS.

Many of the BuilderHelpers are openly sobbing. Some have their faces buried in their hands. Some have their arms outstretched, looking up to the sky.

As the images of people continue, some of the BuilderHelper men reflexively blurt out as if trying to stop what they are seeing:

“Too many of them!”

“Too many people!”

It’s hard not to get emotional at the Earth Day Prayers.

Then, a young woman’s voice, fragile, creaking, barely speaking above a whisper, yet booming loud and crisp from the sound system:

“When the Earth Purge came, the world was tested. Humanity, humbled by the fury of the heavens, learned to cherish every breath.”

The entire crowd responds:

“The Prophets guided us through darkness.”

The woman’s voice continues:

”Together with God we have forged a new covenant: a world where resources are managed wisely by their owners, where everyone is important, where smart work and hard work are equally valued, where talent and beauty are celebrated, and where God guarantees health, happiness and prosperity for those who will it earnestly.”

The Leaders respond, quietly:

”Resources are managed wisely.”

The Infotechs respond:

“Smart work.”

The BuilderHelpers respond, the men’s voices voices shouting loudly, some jostling and clapping each other on the back:

“HARD – WORK!”

Then the Infotechs and BuilderHelpers respond together, and this time the BuilderHelper women are the loudest:

“Talent and beauty!”

Then everyone says together, more calmly:

“Health, happiness and prosperity for those who will it earnestly.”

Many BuilderHelpers are still crying.

The woman’s sad voice continues:

”The sacrifices of those who went before us paved the way for a brighter tomorrow, and we honour them by striving toward lives full of prosperity, wisdom and kindness. The promises of the great Prophets of Old are being realized. Their sacred Words reveal that Gods are Manifesting on Earth. God is turning sadness into joy. This is the will of the Manifested Gods.”

The entire crowd:

“The Will of the Manifested Gods.”

The music swells and the crowd erupts into applause and cheering. Many are wiping away tears and consoling each other as they recover from the emotional catharsis. This continues as Harrington takes his place behind a podium that has appeared at centre stage. Harrington nods and gestures encouragingly to the crowd as their cheering and crying goes on for several minutes. He dabs at one eye with a finger. He waits for the crowd to hush and finally everyone falls silent.

Harrington speaks with the rhythm of a practised orator.

“The tragic series of events that came to be known as the Earth Purge are sadly - but wisely! – remembered, and taught in our schools and our churches, and recited annually in our Earth Day prayers. In these teachings and prayers we tell our own story. It’s our story! And it is a story of resilience and hope!”

Harrington steps back and waits for the applause to subside.

“In the classrooms and churches of the Infotech and BuilderHelper districts, our teachers remind all of us that the Earth Purge was long-predicted…” and then, shaking his head with an expression of puzzlement, as if in disbelief:

“A climate catastrophe.”

Harrington’ eyes are closed as he pauses. The crowd goes completely silent except for a few quiet sniffles and sobs.

In the silence, one BuilderHelper exclaims, sobbing: “They’re all gone now!” prompting many other BuilderHelpers to say, “Shush!” and “Quiet!”

Harrington improvises. “No, it’s ok. It’s ok. We’re all very sad right now. It’s ok to be sad.”

A few BuilderHelpers start sobbing loudly. Harrington waits for silence, then continues:

“It was long predicted by the scientists of the old time.” And then looking up toward the crying BuilderHelpers, “Very smart men and women warned us. But they were not heard! Humanity was not spiritually ready to hear that truth.

“As the catastrophe unfolded, the ancient climate control tech was powerless to stop it, despite their best efforts. The tragic loss of at least two billion lives served as a warning.”

And then, raising one index finger at the audience:

“It was merely a warning! A warning from our great planet Earth and most importantly a warning from God! And it was a wake-up call to those who were fortunate to survive. The Earth Purge forced humanity to adapt and organize, to manage our numbers responsibly and prevent it from happening again!”

Applause and cheering from the crowd.

“And now our students and faithful believers are taught the new truth, and God’s new promises, and the purpose of all this.

“The emergence of the Manifested Gods.

“The wisdom and power of the Leaders.

“The supernatural guidance of the holy Apostles and Prophets.

“The intelligence and creativity of our amazing Infotechs.

“The work ethic, athleticism and beauty of our great, important BuilderHelpers.”

The BuilderHelper men respond with a polite low cheer as if their sports team was mentioned.

“And most importantly, God’s absolute guarantee of good health, prosperity and happiness for all who, using their God-given Force of Faith, will it earnestly.

“These are God’s new promises to us in accordance with the Will of Faith of the Manifested Gods, and a reminder that the world is still capable of wonder despite its sometimes cruel trials.

“Now more than ever, our new world is capable of great joy and wonder!”

More applause, as Harrington himself applauds, acknowledging the audience.

“And now, it is our duty to joyfully worship and praise. It is my great honour to invite up to the platform…”

As Harrington continues, emotional music fades in as the BuilderHelpers begin to sway with their arms stretched outward. Many of the Infotechs, too, are now raising their arms and looking skyward.

“Please welcome the Holy Reverend Doctor Apostle Paulette Weiss! Welcome Apostle Paulette!”

The music gets much louder now and the crowd erupts with emotion as Apostle Paulette runs on to the platform with the tiny steps of someone wearing six-inch heels. Her hair is platinum blonde streaked with bright pink and is bound up by colourful ribbons in a very high pony tail. The hair bounces up high above her head, bends and falls down past her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a halter top with a slogan on the front: “GODS”. Harrington raises his arms straight up as she runs up to him, briefly hugs him, and continues running. She is shouting above the music into an old-fashioned microphone:

“Glory! Glory! Glory to the Manifested Gods as we declare our authority! And God obeys us! Yes He does! Our great, powerful, obedient God! Declare it with me! Shout it at God so he obeys! Come on, who’s a believer out there! Health and prosperity! Claim it with me!”

“HEALTH AND PROSPERITY!” the crowd shouts, many still sobbing. The strange murmuring sound of mass glossolalia rises.

Apostle Paulette shouts: “Say it now! Shout it at Him! I’m a God too!”

The crowd repeats rhythmically: “I’M A GOD TOO! I’M A GOD TOO! I’M A GOD TOO!”

Now joyful pop music begins to swell. The BuilderHelpers begin to dance and shout. The Infotechs, including me, also stand and start to clap and move in our own more restrained fashion.

I clap for a few seconds, then sit down again. The Leaders in the front rows, still seated, smile and nod their heads back and forth and the mothers help the small children clap to the beat.

The BuilderHelpers are now frantically bouncing to the music. Some of them have spilled out of the bleachers into the aisles. They know not to approach the rows nearer the front. The atmosphere and high emotion of the service shifts to the euphoric energy of a pop music concert.

This part of the service always gets to be a little much for me. I understand the impulse to participate in worship and praise whether privately or in public. Especially among simpler folks, the BuilderHelpers, and more than a few Infotechs, now sobbing and murmuring and dancing all around me. I would never mock or scorn them as deserving of deception or trickery that they might fall for because of their fervour.

But then I correct my thinking on this point. In reality, I’m thinking about my own spiritual impulse. I tend to overlay these thoughts about other, ostensibly more naive or innocent people, who might be tricked, deceived and defrauded, as a shield or a distraction against the realization that I’m really looking at myself. I subconsciously try to separate myself from it, perhaps out of pride. But I do have that very human urge to worship and praise and thank – who? What? My creator, whoever or whatever created this reality. I do not feel like I will become equal with my creator, although I know I am supposed to strive for that, to become a Manifested God. I just want to thank whoever created all this, and I want the creator to somehow regard me in reasonably high esteem. To me, that is an unreasonable, fantastical conceit, my wishing to be held, personally, in high esteem by the creator. But I wish for it, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed about it, even after studying, to some degree or other, almost every way, I think, that people and their gods have devised over the centuries to reconcile themselves to each other, and to express awe and gratitude in the face of the most unlikely and still inexplicable miracle, which is the existence of anything at all, or perhaps our ability to consciously experience it. I’m thankful for all of it, and for the ability to contemplate such things, and like probably all conscious creatures since forever ago, I wonder what is beyond all this.

But right now, I am in the middle of a situation that for me is very loud and a bit too chaotic. It far exceeds my natural energy level, and it will exhaust me if I don’t get a break from it. Fortunately the highly energetic people, I think because of kindness, do not chastise those who don’t participate as exuberantly as they do.

Apostle Paulette is running up and down the aisles between the seats, running up to people and slapping them, shouting “I HEAL YOU!” and “BE A GOD!”. Even the Infotechs are giving in to all the excitement. Even some of the senior ones.

I adopt what I hope is a solemn yet joyful, worshipful look and posture. The noise and movement around me fades as I envision bullet points of thoughts outlining my policy recommendations for the latest Special Prophecy.

But because of the music, my train of thought is happily interrupted by ideas about sounds. I’m looking forward to getting home and connecting with the Neuro Sonic Composer. I don’t care if I’m terrible at it.