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| A 70�S REVOLUTION
By Charles F. Millhouse I met Jesus in purgatory at a smoke filled bar. He was drunk on whisky and playing poker with a one-armed hairy man whom had beaten him with a royal flush. I sat in silence; Jesus bummed a cigarette from me and lit it with a snap of his fingers. �Nice trick,� I told him. �But can you chew gum and walk at the same time?� He wasn�t amused. I reached for his bottle, but he pulled it away. �Get your own,� he told me, pointing at the bar. The dimly lit establishment was crowded and hard to get through. I ordered a bottle of bourbon and paid the bartender with a two-dollar bill I found rolled up in my jeans pocket. As I fought my way back to the table, Jimmy Hendrix stopped me. �Can you tell me where the crapper is?� he asked. I shrugged because I didn�t know, and he walked away scowling. Pouring myself a drink, I watched the Savior get beat yet again by the one-armed man. Jesus, pissed, tossed his cards on the table and took another shot from his bottle. �I�ve been waiting,� he told me. �What took you?� I didn�t have an answer for him. The last thing I could remember was driving my car off the road after leaving the concert in Hoboken. The fact that I was drunk and tripping on some kind of pill Ozzy had given me didn�t even enter my mind. �Sixteen years is a long time to wait,� Jesus said. �It must have been one wrong turn to miss this place.� �I remember standing in a long line,� I told him, �One that didn�t move very quickly.� �We�ve had a rush as of late,� Jesus said. �It doesn�t surprise me in the least.� �I appreciate the concern,� I said, lighting a cigarette. �But I really don�t know what all the fuss is about. I�m dead, what hope is there for me now? I�m just one step away from hell.� �Bullshit,� Jesus said, almost falling off his seat. �Hey, hey. How about a game of five card stud?� he asked shuffling the deck. �No cheating,� I said. �What�s bullshit?� �Going to hell�� he paused dealing the cards between the three of us. �Heaven, hell, it�s all bogus, bedtime stories to frighten children, nothing more.� I picked up my cards and looked them over; they were decorated with girls of the Caribbean and wore next to nothing�well I�m too kind. They were naked. I held a jack of spades, two of diamonds, king of hearts, three of clubs and eight of clubs. Not a good hand, but I was used to being dealt bad hands. Even now I was sure the Messiah himself was cheating me. �So what�s this all for�purgatory I mean, if there isn�t a heaven or a hell, then why this place? I mean it�s kind of redundant�if you know what I mean.� The one-armed hairy man laughed and Jesus gave him a smile. �What�s so funny?� I asked. �He thinks you�re dim-witted,� Jesus told me. �Just like everyone else who has come through here without the slightest idea about how things in the universe really work. �Why don�t you fill me in,� I said, pouring more bourbon into my shot glass. �Look around you,� Jesus said. �Go on�have a good look. You know many of the faces here, don�t you?� I nodded yes, seeing Janice Joplin and Elvis dancing next to the jukebox. I saw Jim Morrison sitting alone at the end of the bar, drunk off his ass and not giving a care...nothing new for him. �They�re not sure they want to leave here,� Jesus said. �They don�t want to give up who they were.� �You mean to tell me we can go back?� I asked. �Oh, yes,� Jesus said. �They all can go back. But the ones you see here chose not to. You see, to go back you have to give up who you were in exchange for your new identity.� I was, at first dumbfounded. Then a revelation fell on me like a ton of bricks. �That�s why the music on earth sucks now,� I said. The one-armed hairy man nodded his head in agreement. �But once you choose, there�s no changing your mind�it�s like a game,� Jesus said. �I�ve never been good at games,� I said. �My sister always beat me at jacks.� �There�s only one rule to this game,� Jesus told me. �There are no rules.� �That�s comforting,� I said. �Can I have time to think about it?� �Time is nothing here,� Jesus said. �But while you decide, have a look at your choices.� �I have �� �Three,� Jesus said, �like a game show.� �As long as I don�t become a pig in a poke,� I told him. �Let�s play.� I was led to three doors in the back of the bar, ironically each were numbered 1, 2 and 3. I stood before them waiting for Monty Hall to come out and offer me two hundred dollars instead of picking a door, but Jesus had other ideas. �Behind each door is a life,� he said. �You pick one and you go back to earth. Simple, don�t you think?� �Do I have a choice or do I just pick one�like pot luck?� I asked. Jesus |
| From Chapter One Of In Memory Alone
�Captain!� Charles York fought his way to the quarterdeck of the Honor�s Moon, fiercely pushing crewmembers out of his way (with no concern for politeness). �Captain Talon,� the second officer�s face was covered with black soot and cannon grease, a cut above his right eye left a steady stream of blood racing down his face. �Sir, I beg your pardon Captain.� �Mister York, you are injured,� Jeremiah pulled his handkerchief out of his vest pocket and handed it to the young officer. �Mister Hart�s compliments, sir. He reports we have taken heavy damage on the port side,� his voice was filled with dismay and disbelief of their situation as he held the white cloth firmly on his forehead. �We are taking on water�I fear the worse.� Jeremiah looked out over the deck at his crew. They were like ants whose hill was kicked over by a child; they scurried from one side to the other shouting commands to one another. Jeremiah was silent; he held his right hand up to his black beard and pulled lightly on it. �Standby to repel boarders Mister York,� was all Jeremiah said. Charles gave no verbal response but ran, almost sliding down the ladder toward the center of the ship, and began shouting: �Arm yourselves, standby for boarders.� �Lad,� Jeremiah called to midshipmen Hall. �Go down below and help with repairs,� he knew the young boy would be better off. �I want Mister Hart to send all able-bodied men up here to repel the boarders.� Hall said nothing, as he turned and exited the quarterdeck, not looking back at his captain. Pulling out his looking glass from his blue coat pocket, Jeremiah held it to his right eye and peered out over the calm waters of the Bay of Biscay, two hundred and seventeen miles off the coast of France. He swallowed hard. End simulation. �What did you think of that?� �I saw nothing there,� a cold sharp voice replied. �Nothing that made me believe this subject is worth studying.� The image of Jeremiah Talon faded from an eighteen by eighteen foot screen as Darc Corrian watched it turn to white. �You don�t see the stern pressure to win the battle in the aliens face and readiness to defend?� the long ridged neck of Sovereign Hapic stretched high as the eyes on his pointed head looked at the commander with a bit of disappointment. �I must not be looking at what you are witnessing, all I see is a battle,� reminding the Sovereign that the alien was of a primitive race, from an even more primitive world. �I do not understand how this backward being is going to teach us anything about anything, why is this creature so important?� Hapic cocked his head, �this is a battle driven by a man who has a reason to live, yet decides to risk his very life for battle.� Hapic sighed and motioned Corrian to follow him out of the observation complex and into a long hall made out of clear shavivian glass. Standing in firm erect attention along the transparent corridor were the sinister looking vice-shock troops, dressed in black and red defense armor, and armed with staffs of order. Sworn compatriots of Darc Corrian, who are guided by his own commands and sworn to die for him. They even give the Sovereign chills, reminding him of his cold home world, Glashia. Hapic kept his hands to his side and his lone eye firmly placed to the floor as he and Corrian slowly but steadily walked past the troops. The Sovereign stared at the stars that caught his attention off to the right, endless sparks of light holding in space, hanging there like they were sown on tapestry; a billion gleaming jewels placed ever so carefully as if put there by old women that stitched it into the universe. Hapic�s mind wondered, his thoughts rethinking the command decision to place a first class law enforcer like Corrian on his ship; this annoyed Hapic. With the attacks from the revolutionary army no longer a threat, Hapic had been surprised that the Citadel had gone into a frenzy of speculation that these rabble may indeed become a deeper threat than they had been before. �You have never pair bonded have you commander?� Hapic asked, as they continued to walk. �I have,� Corrian exclaimed with a huge chunk of pride leaping of his throat. �Twice and I have sired several future warriors for the Hy�dirian Citadel.� �Then you loved your bonders?� Hapic asked. �I�m afraid I do not care for the tone of your voice. I, like all the men of my race do not love,� the titanic commander seemed to choke on his pronunciation of the word. �We care for only the preservation for our race, love is a weakness,� he paused. �I am appalled at your question.� �But don�t you see?� Hapic asked. �That is why the alien did not fear, he did not falter, yet he loves and cares for his bonder.� �I did not see this, you must be mistaken,� Corrian choked out the next word, �sir.� �I am not mistaken, I know what it is I saw,� Hapic said. �I wish to view this again,� Corrian turned back toward the chamber, while Sovereign Hapic stood idly by looking at a diagram of the Citadel pride interstellar destroyer, wishing he could go home and put this tour of duty behind him. Hapic�s duty to the Prime and the Citadel had become nothing more than performing like a trained animal. Only Hapic wasn�t an animal, and his conscience thoughts warned him to get out while he could. But� �Are you coming?� Corrian�s rough voice barked as he briskly strolled up the hall. Like an animal, Hapic felt caged. |
| If you would like a copy of 'In Memory Alone' you can order a copy here. |