>> Modern Gods
The Beaten Path Unto the 21st Century
By Patrick Coholan (@findingenvirons)
The phone rang out. Clay sat back in his blue Honda Civic, listening as his call went to voice mail: “This is Tacito Pecora, leave a message.” The late afternoon cloud cover weighed on his consciousness like the lid of a teapot capturing steam. Going into the diner near where he had pulled off the highway was starting to look like a better idea. The diner was a sizable one, suitable for a dozen or more customers but empty at this time of year, cold and uncharitable as it was. Clay looked around. The booths and tables looked clean, and the counter with its row of seats also seemed to be well-kept. A short black-haired man, a few years older than Clay, emerged from the kitchen. He was conservatively styled in a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. Clearly he was working in the diner, as he handled the counter with apparent knowledge of it. “Can I get you something?” he asked. “A cup of coffee,” Clay replied. A pot of coffee sat on its burner and the waiter began to busy himself with pouring one for Clay. He hoped it was a fresh-brewed pot. The waiter put a cup and saucer on the long, clean counter and Clay sat down and made an effort to feel comfortable. He was happy with a black coffee now and then, especially when he had to make a decision. He waited for it to cool down enough to drink. “Slow day?” he asked the waiter, who regarded him. Clay was a strong-looking young man in a denim jacket and jeans, brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. The waiter perceived a hint of frustration in his question: a typical visitor, searching for something that was elusive. “I keep the coffee fresh,” the waiter replied. Clay took a drink of his cup of coffee. Indeed, it seeemed fresh. It wasn’t bad, either. Clay surmised the waiter took pride in his job. “Been on the road long?” the waiter asked Clay. A clock on the wall behind the waiter pointed to the time that afternoon, but neither man was interested. “I must have got lost,” Clay answered. “I didn’t expect to be here this time of day. You know where to find Starryiron?” He absent-mindedly handled his phone from his jacket pocket. “Starryiron,” the waiter replied. “It isn’t far.” For a moment the slightly older man regarded Clay with gravity. “I’d say check your phone. If you are meeting someone, that is. You aren’t far.” Clay looked at the readout on his phone as though it might come to life, offering the answer to his problem. The movement Clay made wasn’t lost on the waiter. At once, the phone beeped. Clay hoped it was Tacito, but the phone said UNKNOWN. He frowned. Being late for a deal was never a good proposition. Countering this thought with another sip from the cup of coffee, he was surprised by what the waiter said next: “I know who that is.” For a moment Clay thought he saw a strange light in the man’s eyes. Must be getting later in the day. He noted again that the diner was very quiet. “You’re wanted here,” the waiter said. A wave of numbness helped Clay get over the distraction of the phone. Must be the coffee, Clay reflected. He suddenly felt as though things were looking better. He raised his eyebrows and looked over the waiter once more. Both shorter and older than Clay the waiter appeared, but fastidiously dressed and styled. “You want Isess,” the waiter asserted. “She’s back there... through that door.” Clay followed the man’s gaze and indeed, a door in the back of the diner led somewhere Clay suddenly thought he might want to go. “She can help.” Clay felt a hint of lightness in his mind, and his worries about meeting Tacito lessened. The waiter nodded and extended an arm, pointing in the direction of the waiting door. It was an ordinary-looking door, a cream colour somewhat dimmed by the passage of time. A fragment of an image flashed in front of his eyes. Someone was beyond the door, a woman... He reached out and opened it. The darkness beyond had a hue of red luminescence. The shade brightened in a instant to orange, faster and faster through the colours of the rainbow, until Clay was alone in a sterile chamber of white, where a copper chair faced away from him, and in the chair was his companion. |
She might have been a steel sculpture in her seat. Though her garment shone like metal, she was flesh. Locks of golden hair falling from atop her head reassured Clay she was as he: she wasn’t a monster. Though the transition to the room was strange, Clay knew he wanted to speak to her.
The steel chair, resting on a circle-shaped indentation in the floor, revolved a hundred and eighty degrees and the woman faced him. She was very beautiful. Her eyes were silver and there was a faint crackling of energy that marked her as being within a great aura. She was in a flowing gown, and her feet were bare. Any tension that had been on Clay’s mind was reduced to a shadow, for the woman’s aura emitted calm. “You have a question,” she spoke. “As you were directed here, you thought you knew you sought one thing, and in fact many details that were unknown to you can be now be told. You were taking one path, and it is the time now that you know what is in store for your fate. You are not in vain. You have been selected.” The energy of her aura was discrete but gave Clay confidence. “Who are you?” he asked. He reckoned he was no longer where he’d been a few minutes before, but was ready to understand why. The woman regarded him and silent lightning coursed through his mind, like a storm overhead, like none he had ever experienced. Mostly, he was calm, and he knew the woman was extraordinarily calm. “My name is Isess,” the woman spoke. “My role in the cosmos to help a select few, mortals such as yourself, who shall serve with dedication a purpose and a privilege granted to only a few. As your name is Clay, and you have made the choices in your life that you have made, I offer now you your destination.” Clay and Isess looked at each other, gravity forming in Clay’s mind, serenity emanating from Isess. “I think I know why I have come this way now,” he said. “And you know where I will go, I suspect you know this. This is something new I want. I hadn’t counted on it, I’ve never considered it, but meeting you... I feel something renewed inside me. Will you show me? Will you be at my side?” Isess shook her head. “I can’t do that for you, Clay. You have to go forward by yourself, but I can offer you a blessing. You have my protection, as much as I can shield you from without. I know this is not what you want from me, but there are others who you shall meet. You have made the decisions in your life which you have, you must know this. They led you here, but your destination is not here with me, nor will I remain here. I am simply bring you through. What you make of what is ahead is entirely up to you. You have a measure of protection, but you must go by yourself. If you are true, you shall fare fine.” To the left of Isess rose a ring of orange fire, three feet in diameter, revealing nothing more ordinary than a telephone on the wall. Isess beckoned to Clay. “Your fate is in your own hands. You are more than adequately equipped for what is to come. Please... take the phone and go to where you are destined. You are chosen, my friend. It is time that you begin.” The ring of fire dimmed to only a hint of smoke, and Isess pointed to the phone beside her. Clay strode forward, reaching out to grasp the phone receiver. He put it to this ear, and a male voice spoke to him from the phone. Isess gazed serenely at Clay as he listened to the sympathetic but mysterious caller: “You have been blessed with an encounter with Isess,” the voice spoke. “Go back to your own bidding, but remember that this is only the beginning.” A dial tone buzzed in Clay’s ear and he hung up. He looked back at Isess. “Must I go?” She looked at him one last time, her gown demurely draped, her aura growing stronger. There was no urgency but Clay knew it was his last moment with her. It was time for him to go back. As she vanished, Clay realised he was back in what wasn’t much more than an ordinary stockroom, in a roadside diner on his way to meet Tacito. The memory of Isess already beginning to fade, Clay turned and retraced his steps. He retreated back out of the room and on his way to where he needed to go, strengthened in his resolve that he would persevere, and none too perplexed that he was having a rather extraordinary day. There were never enough hours. |
OTHER MODERN GODS:
Hydra Atheism and the Cloud Burning Man Coffee |
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