Hollow halls, lined with packed
shelves, made the room. Everything was rich, dark wood. Layers of
dust covered almost all the books. The main body of the room, in the
midst of the rows of shelves, had a vaulted ceiling of gilt panels.
Shadows flickered here and there,
antagonized by the light from candles and the fire. At one of the
long, oak tables that was covered in books, positioned across from
the fireplace, sat a boy. He was typing away steadily at a
typewriter. It was the only noise, echoing around the hall of
forgotten wisdom.
His eyes kept flickering back and
forth from an open tome to the paper projecting from the machine. His
fingers never once misstepped. His face was unreadable, sharp, with
green-blue eyes. The hair on his head seemed almost silver, though it
might have been the light.
On and on he typed, only stopping
twice in the course of forty minutes; once to feed the fire and
another time to fetch a different book from the upper reaches of a
shelf. This he scanned through tirelessly until he found what he
wanted, then got back to typing.
Every time a page was finished he'd
slide it free and lay it face down in a chest on the seat next to
him. The chest was graying wood, a brass plaque on the front. It was
faded, but two words were still readable, fabula custos.
There came a
rustling at the back of the room. The youth barely glanced up.
Nothing could be seen in the shadows beyond the fireplace, but he
already knew who had come. He recognized the clicking of the talons
and the brush of the wings.
“Come for
respite by my fire?” he called. “Or a word from a fellow soul?”
Something, black
as the shadows behind it, rocked into view. The head came up, then
snapped suddenly sideways, looking at him with one crimson eye. “A
little of one,” a trilling whisper came, “maybe a little of the
other. It seems such a time since I spoke to you, Observer.”
The boy looked up
at the eagle. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Have you come to
make sure I didn't miss anything, then?”
The big raptor
bobbed his head humbly. “Never! That would be so presumptuous. It's
a cold world out there, boy… One almost forgets the warmth a fire
can give when one is using them to always destroy.”
The boy pushed
back his chair and stood. “Sit then,” he said amiably, snatching
up a dish of tarts, “and preen your feathers by my fire, Lord
Liberty. Have a tart while you're at it. Baked them this morning.
Strawberry.”
The eagle was
giant, dwarfing the boy. It's feathers gleamed black in the amber
light. The head was a sooty gray instead of the usual white.
“Delicious!” he crowed, gobbling up a few tarts. “Where did you
get such a recipe.”
“Funny that you
haven't run across it before, it's as old as you. Something Queen
Charlotte fancied. I've made a few adjustments of my own, but on the
whole it's the same.”
“She had very
good taste. It really is too bad about her husband.”
The boy laughed.
“Don't pretend to care. Personally, I think you were the one that
pushed him over the edge! A revolution is never good for the mental
health of royalty.”
“And the mental
health of royalty is never good for the people,” the bird
countered. “Either they're sane enough to schemingly pursue
ultimate power, or insane enough to think they've already got it.”
“Oh? Into which
category does David fall?”
“A myth and
legend.”
“I saw him.”
“Then you would
know, surely.”
The boy said
nothing, only walked slowly back to his seat. The eagle gobbled down
another tart. “A funny thing for you to say…” the boy replied
finely. “Considering what your people believed.”
“Believed,”
the other hissed. “is the right word. I've come through for
them far more.”
“Some might say
that's because they abandoned their other belief for you.”
“I dwarfed their
silly religious convictions! I showed them what true freedom is and
they bowed to me. They are my people, and I'm their god.”
“God forces no
man to believe and none to love, not like you.”
The eagle shook
his head. “Please. Those countries begged me to come
to their aid. They asked for me to lead them.”
The boy laughed.
“After you whispered your delicate promises! Who would have said
no?”
“And I have
fulfilled! Like no one else.”
“Not like God.”
The eagle turned
away. But the boy persisted, coming closer again. “You turned them
away. You were envious.”
“And why
shouldn't I have been? I was the one promising ultimate freedom.”
“But that has
its cost.”
“Bah!”
“You still don't
have them completely…”
“I will!”
“You will.
You're doing a marvelous job. Your dividing of the youth from their
elders was admirably done.”
The eagle clicked his beak with
pleasure. “Liked that, did you? Yes… It was. It was fun too. When
they lost I was there to tell them they couldn't win. When they fell
I was there to tell them they'd never get up. I was their constant
companion. It was I that informed them that their fathers didn't love
them, it was I that pointed out how little time their mothers spent
with them.
“I consoled them with cravings that
they will never satisfy. I awakened their hearts in the dark hours of
the night, long before they were supposed to be awakened. I told them
of the secrets behind locked bedroom doors.
“I
never lied to them!”
“But you never failed to point out
when their parents did.”
“Yes, and even when they didn't tell
them the whole truth. I hid nothing from them. I nurtured them
and fed them succulent morsels. It was I that fed their lust and
envy. I was there for them! I was a father to the fatherless, and
mothered the neglected…
“And when each divide is set, riven
beyond repair, I tell them of it. I cry with them and moan with them.
I hug them, and whisper to them in the night. 'Your parents will
never understand. They're gown-ups.'”
The youth shook his head. “Such an
ambiguous statement… Yet they buy it again and again, never asking
for a further explanation.”
“'And why should they?' I ask them,”
the eagle continued triumphantly. “If their parents don't even try
to understand them why should
they fill in the gap?”
“But the parents
never will. They're another of your conquests that really deserves
praise. A cycle of pain and soothing numbness! And of killing the
conscience to relieve the soul.”
His fellow
couldn't hold back flapping his wings with delight. “Too true! Too
true. But you know I couldn't have them even trying to save their
young. After all, they might succeed!”
“So, you taught
them that their young were burdens, and then gave them a way to free
themselves… Then you disguised the murders behind a 'right'. You
called their babies its and things so that they could ignore the
guilt.”
“A beautiful
conquest.”
“Your people are
bathed in blood.”
“It is not as
far reaching as some of my other deeds.”
“Ah, yes. Your
distractions are your crowning achievement. You've filled their heads
with business, and made them slaves to what they own. Their watches
crack the whip, their loans take their share, their bosses never
give, while the TVs pretend to care…”
“Eloquently put,
as always. But don't forget the food! I shove it down their gobs
after torturing them with it through their eyes. I tell them that
this will be enough, that it will assuage their need. But then, of
course, the bile rises, and I'm there with a brand new pill. Or if
they find they're tired, 'Come try this harmless swill.'”
“Now I got you
doing it.”
“But
it is a poetic irony.
They're so free that it's choking them. Pretty soon I will have them
shedding blood to be enslaved.”
The boy shuddered,
drawing his jacket tight about him. “But what if God stops you?”
“It is as you
said, Observer. These people have left Him behind. They love me!”
“At your behest
they did. And they don't know who you truly are.”
“Oh, what am I?
Do tell.”
“A lie. People
can be as free as you promise, just as they can be free of
oxygen.”
“But then they'd
die. And they will be mine to gather under my wings…”
“A frightful
image indeed.”
“It will be
mine!” the bird snapped. “I don't care what I have to do!”
“Careful though.
The facade might slip. Even now, with that puppet you picked for a
head, people are starting to see. They smell a fake. They are
starting to see the blood on their hands.”
“So some of them
will. People can never really be as free as I promise. They need
something to bow down to.”
“They are meant
to bow down to their Creator…”
“They will bow
down to me!”
“But in doing so
they'd see the lie.”
“The majority
don't care, as long as they're happy. As long as I feed them, and
give them their pills. As long as I entertain them and nurse them and
whisper to them that they will never die. As long as I remind them
that they are not responsible for anything.”
“So you are a
liar.”
“I do what I
must. For their good.”
“Do you even lie
to yourself?”
The bird smiled,
his red eyes glittering. It was a terrifying sight. “No. I want
them dead. I want ever soul for my collection. I will have
them to comfort me. I will suck on their bones to feed my desire.”
“But the unborn
will never be yours.”
“A small price
to pay,” his fellow sneered, “if I can damn their parents with
their death.”
“Jesus can still
save them.”
The bird ducked
his head. “A lie!”
“Believe what
you will. I never lie, though.”
The eagle glared
at him. The boy stared him down. “…In a way, then, you are
nothing more than they are.”
“A lost soul?
Observer, how old fashioned you sound. I am a god!”
“Say it,” the
boy laughed, turning away once again. “Call it! Chirp it loud, Lord
Liberty. The real God has no need to proclaim it Himself. For the
Heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His
handiwork.”
The eagle puffed
out his feathers violently. He hopped off the table. “You have seen
too much, boy. It has addled your brain.”
“Are you going?”
“I have much to
do.”
“Be careful out
there, with you fires and your lies. You wouldn't want to end up like
Sodom. Or Rome…”
The bird cackled
as he shuffled out. The boy sighed, sat down again, and got back to
typing. “If he thinks
he's so great he's more of a fool than I knew. They'll be just
another footnote, that nation of his. A passing fancy that led back
to dust.”
