“Are you listening to me?” The voice, the man behind the microphone, pauses and in that silence he, perhaps, waits for an answer which will never arrive. He asks, “Can you hear me?”
The voice is silent, the man unspoken. Only the hiss, the obligatory crackle of static, fills the void. In the distance, some ways distant from the microphone, an
erratic popping, an irregular crackling sound, echoes. Breathing can be heard, each bated breath a soft rush of noise.
He speaks two words which trail off in to nothingness, “The truth...”
“The truth is this,” he continues after a moment, “his kingdom was not divine.”
“He called himself God,” the word sounds dirty, spiteful. “He fancied himself...”
“... God.”
“What is his legacy then?”
“In his passing he leaves the dead, the possessed and us.”
White noise builds to a crescendo, peaks, and the words continue. “The dead will not know his divinity; they are dead and know nothing. The possessed will not see his godliness; they are mad and know only madness.”
“And us? We are left knowing only his fallibility.”
“I know the truth. We who have transcended madness, who have denied possession, know the truth. We know and understand that his secret and our truth are the same and have left behind the dead and the mad. We know the secret God kept from his children. How else could they, of his flesh, be so changed?”
“He was not God but he was their father. Abandoned, they saw the truth for themselves and were changed by it.”
“He created them and he doomed them.”
“He doomed them.” He pauses, eternities seem to elapse. “Because they cannot be saved.”
“But...”
“... we can be and so can the rest.”
“Salvation is acceptance of the truth. It cannot be given, but it can be shared and once attained...”
He, the speaker, exhales deeply. A deep exhalation heard across the galaxy.
“... it can never be lost.”
“I am speaking to you; the lost soul. I am speaking to you; the tortured truth seeker. I am speaking to you; luminous beings.”
“Accept the inevitable, accept that the infection cannot be prevented but that it can be fought. Travel the path of least resistance or the roughest road... you will end up in the same place.”
“And it is a peaceful place, brothers and sisters.”
“His works are the works of a being like any other, not the miracles of God.”
“This too shall pass.”
The voice is silent, the man unspoken. Only the hiss, the obligatory crackle of static, fills the void. In the distance, some ways distant from the microphone, an
erratic popping, an irregular crackling sound, echoes. Breathing can be heard, each bated breath a soft rush of noise.
He speaks two words which trail off in to nothingness, “The truth...”
“The truth is this,” he continues after a moment, “his kingdom was not divine.”
“He called himself God,” the word sounds dirty, spiteful. “He fancied himself...”
“... God.”
“What is his legacy then?”
“In his passing he leaves the dead, the possessed and us.”
White noise builds to a crescendo, peaks, and the words continue. “The dead will not know his divinity; they are dead and know nothing. The possessed will not see his godliness; they are mad and know only madness.”
“And us? We are left knowing only his fallibility.”
“I know the truth. We who have transcended madness, who have denied possession, know the truth. We know and understand that his secret and our truth are the same and have left behind the dead and the mad. We know the secret God kept from his children. How else could they, of his flesh, be so changed?”
“He was not God but he was their father. Abandoned, they saw the truth for themselves and were changed by it.”
“He created them and he doomed them.”
“He doomed them.” He pauses, eternities seem to elapse. “Because they cannot be saved.”
“But...”
“... we can be and so can the rest.”
“Salvation is acceptance of the truth. It cannot be given, but it can be shared and once attained...”
He, the speaker, exhales deeply. A deep exhalation heard across the galaxy.
“... it can never be lost.”
“I am speaking to you; the lost soul. I am speaking to you; the tortured truth seeker. I am speaking to you; luminous beings.”
“Accept the inevitable, accept that the infection cannot be prevented but that it can be fought. Travel the path of least resistance or the roughest road... you will end up in the same place.”
“And it is a peaceful place, brothers and sisters.”
“His works are the works of a being like any other, not the miracles of God.”
“This too shall pass.”