Chapter 13: Chronicles 1 - Part 2: Thomas (DRAFT)

Ray Lorric was eating lunch in the kitchen when the front doorbell rang. He put down his fork and went to check who it was from the front room window. It was a tall thin man, wearing his coat collar up around his cheeks to fend off the sleet and a baseball cap down over his eyes. Ray didn’t recognise him, but he didn’t seem threatening.

‘Wait a second,’ he muttered as recognition hit. He went to open the door and the man hustled in, heading for the kitchen. Ray checked the street. There were no cars or vans. No entourage of vehicles that might be expected from the sudden arrival of the Bishop of Evermarch.

 ‘Uh, to what do I owe this honour, Your Grace,’ he asked as Thorman took off his tasseled coat and hung it on the rack.

‘You like to keep this place warm,’ observed the bishop. ‘Still on the mains gas?’

‘One of the perks of working for the church.’

Ray looked over Thorman. He was dressed in regular street togs. Jeans, a patterned woolly jumper over a stripped shirt. With his coat and hat on he would have been totally anonymous. The only thing that marked him out was his height, but otherwise there was no shortage of gaunt, grey bearded men in Evermarch.

‘When you called, Your Grace, I assumed you’d come by car.’

‘No,’ replied Thorman. ‘The bus service is terrible. It took me three hours to get here. I would have been quicker walking. Roadblocks for the police, roadblocks for the Committee and now the army.’

‘We are lucky to have any buses at all.’

‘You work from home, don’t you Ray?’

‘I do.’

‘Right. Do you mind showing me your set up?’

Ray took the bishop through to what had once been a spare room and was now his office. He picked up wrappers and a dirty cup from his desk, empty food packets from the floor and a beer can from under his chair, then tossed the lot in the bin by the door. Thorman watched with no comment.

‘Well, it’s just this really. I access the system through this.’ Here Ray gestured to his laptop. It was wired into two large monitors. Ray wiggled the mouse, and they sprang into life. The same image was shown on both screens, a close-up of a turtle swimming in a tropical sea, an image from a time and place that was perhaps lost to them now.

‘And I make the calls on this.’ Ray pointed at an old landline handset. ‘I can get everyone on the Evermarch Exchange with this line.’

‘How is it?’

Ray took Thorman’s meaning. ‘Pretty solid. Pretty solid. Even the army can’t seem to stop the Council wanting to keep the phones working. Landlines at least.’

‘You don’t use this to call God though? I understand it’s a more complicated process.’

Ray was puzzled at the bishop’s presence and questions and was momentarily stuck for an answer. Thorman sensed this and put up a hand. ‘It’s okay Ray, I’ll get to the point. I want to talk directly to God. Today. Right now, if possible.’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Ray was smart enough not to ask why and assumed that Thorman wanted to keep it off the books. Calling God from Merric would mean that news of it would get to Strake and the archbishop.

Ray reached over and felt the radiator. ‘Should be enough hot water,’ he mumbled.

‘What?’ asked Thorman.

‘We use the Immersion Method now. You’ll make the call while lying in warm water, did you bring trunks?’

The bishop, baffled, ‘Ah, no.’

‘Don’t worry, I have some spares.’ Ray sat down at his laptop and logged in. ‘OK, well usually there are a lot of forms to fill in, but I can… uh… worry about all the paperwork later and just get you right to it. There is an hour-long video for new people using the Method, but… yeah… you don’t need that, it just covers the basics anyway.’

‘Great.’

‘I’ll just run through the checklist anyway, it will make sure we’ve done everything correctly. So,’ at this point Ray began reading off the screen. ‘It is best to have the questions you want to ask formed in your mind first. God will understand these thoughts and provide an answer to any questions you may have. Note that he is unlikely to answer questions posed directly.’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Thorman impatiently.

Ray ticked some boxes in the form on the screen and clicked the “Next” button.  ‘It is such an intense feeling that you may void yourself, so it is best to be done either in or close to a bathroom. Some people say it is like a fight or flight response. You will experience a rush of adrenaline. Your heart will beat faster than normal. You will feel a rush of blood to your head. This is normal and will pass. Try and keep your breathing calm and regular.’

‘I usually get this via a pillar of smoke,’ interrupted Thorman. ‘I’m familiar with the feeling, I can cope with it.’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Ray clicked the “Next” button again. ‘God does not appear as your dead brother, as you as a child, or as Morgan Freeman. Using this method He does not appear as anything. Your vision may blur, and you may see bright lights. That’s not Him, it’s the adrenaline. His Word is not spoken. His Word is not the mere vibration of air molecules reaching the ear of the listener. God does not have a mouth in any literal sense. He does not speak the way humans speak. The knowledge of His Word is inserted directly into your head. This knowledge is in your head in a much stronger way than your strongest memory. Like your own name, or your birthday, but even so it is best to transcribe the Word as quickly as possible… dum de dum de dum… And I think that’s it. It more or less repeats itself after that.’ Ray clicked more buttons advancing the questionnaire on the screen.

Finally, he took his hands off the keyboard and glanced up at the bishop. ‘Usually, I would complete this and send it off to the Centre, but I’ll not bother. I do need to click the Go button though or the Accumulator won’t fire up.’

Thorman went upstairs to changed and Ray ran the bath. He then switched on the Accumulator. This was a metal box, painted black, with a single red switch, five lamps and two long wires that ended in twisted loops. It was sat on an end table by the bathroom door.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered to himself as he got everything ready. The bishop was well off the reservation today. Whatever he was up to had trouble written all over it.

 

‘Nice and hot,’ said Ray as Thorman stepped into the bath.

‘Yes, all right, what next?’

‘Put this gum shield in, Your Grace,’ he said as he ripped opened a cellophane packet. ‘It’s a new one.’

‘Is this necessary?’

‘It will stop you biting your tongue.’ And shut you up, you daft old bugger, thought Ray.

Ray looped the wires around the palms of the bishop’s hands and twisted them tight.

‘Now lie back in the water as far as you can Your Grace.’ Ray reached for a plastic bottle and squeezed half of it into the bath and onto Thorman’s chest. ‘This is just olive oil, helps with the chaffing. You have your questions formed in your mind? Good, just keep them there then. I’m going leave now and shut the door. The toilet is right behind you if you need it and there is a bucket under the sink. I’ll just be on the other side of the door. I’m going to slowly power the Accumulator up to full blast and leave the tibia open until you let me know you are done. You will hear a humming sound and feel a tingling in your hands, but don’t worry I’m not electrocuting you. It’s the animakinesis, ah, you know all this, I’ll leave you to it.’

Ray shut the bathroom door and took a deep breath. After a few heartbeats he clicked both fingers and wandered into the kitchen. It always annoyed him, that mixing of Latin and Greek. Ah well, I can finish me lunch now, the old chap would be in there at least an hour.

 

 

Thorman lay back, shut his eyes and repeated his questions in his head; What is the extent of my power? How many other Judges are there? Can they be contacted in any way other than the mundane?

As the Accumulator powered up, his thoughts became distracted. At first, he thought about how hideous the bathroom suite was. Olive green, with pink wallpaper. Lorric wouldn’t have chosen it though, he realised. This house had probably belonged to an old widow from the before times, judging by its décor. All this must be fifty years old if it’s a day. The tingling grew in his hands. He could feel it going up his arms and down his spine. It started to build up under his armpits and between his legs. Every so often he fought the urge to leap out of the bath. He could feel his soul going into spasm. After ten or so minutes his body got used to this new condition and he stopped biting down on the gumshield and lay back again.

More time passed and Thorman’s thoughts drifted to his host, Ray Lorric. He could tell Lorric was nervous. In the past the church had put people to death for making unsanctioned calls, exactly as they were doing now. Ray was right to be worried. They were heading back into dangerous times, but Lorric would have to deal with it, the same as everyone else did. By the look of him he had been living pretty well for a while now. He certainly looked well fed. The Accumulator went up another notch and he remembered to reform his thoughts around the questions. He bit down and shut his eyes.

 

After Thorman had received his answer from God, he slowly pulled himself out of the bath, slipped on the floor, landed by the toilet and was sick.

‘Wash the oil off in the shower, Your Grace,’ said Lorric from the other side of the door. ‘There are fresh towels on the rail.’

When he was done, Thorman stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. That was no help, he thought as he examined his worn-out face. I might have known I wouldn’t get a straight answer. It turns out Sinclair is more in line with what God wants than I am. Truly, if I am defying Sinclair then I am defying God. And yet, I am the Judge and Sinclair is not. How can I make sense of all this?

He got dressed and met Ray in the kitchen.

‘How was it?’

‘He spoke to me in Bible verses. He’s filled my head with verses from first Chronicles.’

‘Shall I get a notepad?’

‘Just get me a glass of water. It’s all of verse twenty-two. And David … set masons to hew wrought stones to build the house of God – all the way to - arise therefore and build ye the sanctuary of the Lord God.’

‘That’s, uh, that’s about David telling Solomon to build the temple,’ mused Lorric. ‘Gold, silver, brass and iron. I’ve never understood the obsession with building temples. How many are in the Kingdom now, three? Five?’

At that moment Thorman was in no mood for Lorric’s nervous banter. He drank the glass dry and put it in the sink, then sat down and put his hands palm down on the table. He shut his eyes. He felt even more overwhelmed and confused than before. He had been instructed to focus his attention on building Solomon’s Temple in Evermarch, that was clear enough at least. He should put his trust in God. Yes, he should put his trust in God, but he should also ask less questions, particularly of God.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Lorric was still at the table, nibbling on a thumbnail.

‘Sorry, was overcome with the spirit of Our Lord there for a moment.’

‘No trouble, Your Grace,’ said Lorric with a wan smile. ‘It gets me like that too.’

‘Ray, I just realised I spat the gum shield into the toilet when I vomited.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve got some Diet Coke if you still need to wash the taste out of your mouth.’

‘Really?’

‘I stocked up the day after the reditus. Diet Coke, Irn Bru, all that. Seems silly now that that was my main priority.’

 ‘Coffee is fine. I wouldn’t want to eat into your supplies.’

‘Just the local rubbish, that ok?’ asked Lorric as he stood up.

‘Sure,’ nodded Thorman. He could feel himself coming back to what passed for reality these days.

They took their drinks through to the living room, but Thorman remained standing, staring out the window.

‘How’s the wife?’

‘Ex-wife,’ corrected Lorric firmly. ‘Oh, she’s well. Safey tucked away on one of the farm’s up north. She never stops complaining, but I take that as a good sign.’

‘You’ve been up there?’

‘Once or twice, but not now, what with the army blocking all the roads.’

‘Of course,’ replied Thorman quietly as he looked out the window. ‘Been much comms traffic about Judges, Ray?’

‘Plenty. A big uptick.’

‘Any names?’

‘No big announcements yet, but as far as we know you are the only local lad. Mostly bible passages as normal, but some cryptic messages. I’ve not analysed the data to be honest Your Grace, but I’d say there are a couple of dozen other Judges. I think there is a Judge in Iberial, and one in Saturnia, as you might expect, other than that… I can dig about and… uh prepare a report. But you know, usually it’s Merric College that does that, we just collect the data, it’s your lads that analyse it, you know, usually…’

‘Please keep all this to yourself. I’ll contact you again when… who is that man?’

Lorric stood up and joined him at the window. Thorman pointed at duck man, who despite wearing a thick blue coat appeared to be soaked to the skin.

‘Oh, it’s just one of the locals. I don’t think he’s right in the head.’

‘He’s passed back and forth twice now. Now he’s looking into your garden.’

‘He does that, your Grace. He was a shut in for a while, but now he is out and about again apparently.’

Thorman laughed and shook his head. It had been established that God didn’t work in signs any longer, but looking at that man in his wet denim jacket Thorman wondered if that was still true.