Taxis zip by, the faceless shuffle to and fro, the poor wander like lepers
and the rich glare. There are a few believers: the man on the corner saying,
“the end is coming” is one. Theres a guy in a bunker in Sacramento. Or
possibly Detroit. But hes there. Not much else. Times Square is putting on
its best face, possibly because of the coming event but more likely the
plunger-shaped lead -tipped enema administered by its elected Füher. Truth
is no one cares because its a hollow event. Its an even number. A once-in a
ten-generation event that will at best be a computer virus. We expected
better. How many movies and novels, cartoons and comic books, bedside stories
and television shows started with the fantastic, hi-tech, evocative line, ‘It
is the year 2000?’
We expected different. We expected a world war. Nuclear Armageddon. Wrist
phones. Lasers, unassisted flight, sex, clones, and mutants. Aliens.
Something, anything to make is older and wiser. Some nudge to all of
collective humanity to get us off of our collective asses and make the world
the better place we know it can be if we just apply ourselves. Were an
unsatisfactory student. We need a better place. What better gateway than the
infinite? The Millennium! A new world will awake the very next day! Better,
changed, more alive!
Sadly, this is a joke.
The next day, cars will still roll by, our watches, for the most part, will
still only tell time, The vaunted Internet will still be little more than a
glorified telegraph, babies will still need people who love them, and God, as
usual, will be casting an absentee vote. There will be no Second Coming. No
Reckoning Day. No Armageddon, No chariot of Elijah- Hell, well be lucky if
we get so much as a morning star.
Right?
What if I was wrong?
What if a thousand Messiahs woke up that day?
What if God showed, if only to choice few?
What If there was a better place- one that made us better people?
All around me lights zing by and flash. People mutter. I hear a siren. I know
I am still home here. The only proof I have of a better place is my ability
to imagine it. But I can cast my eyes on a million Electric Morning stars
here. I can be wiseman to a billion infant Christs.
I can dream amidst dogma.
Watch this space.
>From the first Messianic Manifesto by Nicholas Van Zandt, Times Square,
October 1999
Well, Im back.
I seem to have returned to Times Square.
If youve never been here, I really cant do this justice. Josh dragged me
out here at the absurd hour of 3:06 AM, claiming his usual argument.
“I cant write anywhere normal.”
I miss my office sometimes. I am literally sitting on a dirty island on the
middle of Broadway as the cabs zing by. A giant man in his underwear looms
overhead and Im typing by the light of a television that takes up the
entire face of a building. Theres a madman dancing to Latin music only he
can hear twenty feet in front of me and the incessant drone of a shoddy movie
camera filming something to my left is somewhat distracting. Humanity walks
by.
As I sit and work a VERY drunken foreigner approaches Josh.
“Yooah Ricker?” he asks?
Josh is gone. Hes typing Quality Control to my right, listening to DJ Crush.
He cant hear. Subsequently, it doesnt come up in his column& I know this
because Im reading what hes writing.
“Yooah Ricker?” The man asks again. His thick, hairy chest is complimented
perfectly by his thick, hairy accent.
“Just typing a column.” Josh mumbles. Over his head I can see the second
floor studios of MTV. In front of me, a mammoth Panasonic television. Behind
me, a giant coke bottle pops its top like it has been doing since the
seventies.
Humanity drives by.
Nick Van Zandt was sitting right here when he wrote his first Messianic
Manifesto in 1999.
Im considering that when two guys come up to us.
“Yo yo yo, you online?”
Josh and I look at each other, then at the city around us.
“Naw, we aint got that kinda of money, dog.” He smirks.
“What you all doin?”
Josh looks up
“Writin a column.”
“Yeah, Im down. What about, yo?”
I wave my hands as if to indicate “all of this.” Josh, more pragmatic, simply
hands him a Last Ex sticker.
“This game were making. Hes writing it and Im laying it out.”
“Word?”
I tell Josh to hand the guy a packet.
“Word life. This shit is ill! Can I keep this?”
“Please do.” I smile, and the guys smile and nod as they cross the street.
“Yo, peace out, man, Ill check you.”
“Peace!” Josh says.
This whole thing had been full of people waiting for& something to happen to
them come 2000.
They were disappointed, of course.
Scratch that. All but twelve of them.
Six messiahs and Six Antichrists were here on New Years Eve.
When the Ball dropped, at precisely midnight, eastern standard, These twelve
men and woman were blasted clean out of their human shells across the Breach,
up, into Eden. They were the first humans in centuries to feel their souls
before death. The Last Exodus began with them.
Ahura Mazda, the original God, the creator God, the God of Heaven, had six
children in the crowd. They were a strange lot- a mercenary, a priest, A DJ,
a child, a Gangsta, and an artist . The GODHEAD had six of its own there as
well- an addict, a rapist, a psychopath, a tycoon, a scientist and cop. Each
one learned in their lineage, and took the logical next step after learning
about their divine parentage.
They all started Religions- in a way.
The Millennium Religions are the most obvious, earthly aspect of the Last
Exodus. They were necessary to the story, and do give the whole thing a very
modern-underground-horror-neo-Goth-RPG patina if one does not know a bit more
about them.
There are twelve Millennium Religions. Six are Messianic, and comprise the
group called “The Apostate,” so named for their Apostasy from the faith and
world of the GODHEAD. Six are aligned with The GODHEAD- Antichrists- and are
called The Sanhedrin, naming themselves for the Council of Jewish Priests the
bible holds responsible for the Crucifixion.
The six Apostate Religions are:
The Alliance: Jed Bronsons collective of survivors, culled from any tragedy
or atrocity.
The Congregation: Father Srdjan Dragomirs assembly of the faithful. It
doesnt matter what you believe, so long as you believe.
The Chamber: Young Emily Vasquezs family for freaks, rejects and outcasts of
all stripes.
The Order: DJ Dexter Tenchis group of graphic designers, electronic
musicians, and techies.
The Squad: Maintanes gang of roughnecks, hoodlums, and disaffected
inner-city youth.
The Underground: Ursula Tangos all-inclusive cell of revolutionary artistes.
The Six Sanhedrin Religions are:
The Chain: Madison Vaughns circle of occultists and powermongers.
The Crush: Evan Powells cult of personality, hellbent on sexual exploitation
of the weak.
The Firm: Franklin Talbots multi-billion dollar salvation company.
The Hoard: Jude DiEches hive-mind of hatemongers ranging from white
supremacists to 5 percenters and everything in between.
The Institute: Dr. Alistair Stones research organization that will let
nothing stand in the way of the complete and utter measurement,
quantification and explanation of The Last Exodus.
The Regime: The Army of The GODHEAD under Admiral Maxemillian Stayne.
They still seem pretty run of the mill.
Thats the idea.
On Earth, these groups are very standard. Small, secretive, elite cells of
those who have been touched with some strange supernatural ability. But that
really isnt the whole story.
The bulk of the Last Exodus takes place in Eden, remember. It is the war
between Heaven and Hell.
And In Eden, the “Millennium Religions” are two thousand years old and have a
combined membership of over ten billion souls. They boast great Cathedrals
and hold sway over entire nations. They have access to military and political
power, massive scientific advancements, and magical resources like no other.
To make a long story short, the coming of the Sanhedrin and Apostate were
foretold in Eden by Jesus Christ during his time dead on the cross. So Eden
has been preparing for the triumphant return of these twelve souls (and their
consorts) for the past two thousand years!
Any character who might be a complete schmo on earth will find that their
coming has been prophesized and they are regarded as a saint or better in
Eden. They may be expected to lead an army or feed a nation with a couple
sacks of flour and a yam, but every member of the Millennium Religions from
Earth is important to the people of Eden in some way. No character in TLE
will be another cog in the wheel, so to speak. Members of the Millennium
Religions from earth are regarded as true greats in Eden, no matter what side
of the fence they happen to stand on.
Why?
Because as I sit and stare at every freak, every shuffling homeless wreck and
every limo-esconced cocaine-snorting Long-Island trust fund darling that this
self-proclaimed “center of the world” has to offer, it occurs to me they all
have a purpose. Everyone means something somewhere. The drunken foreigner,
the dancing madman, hell, even Josh and I all share dreams of a better place
where we really, really, matter without a doubt. Thats what religion is ,
was, and always has been for. And contrary to popular belief these days, that
s not a bad thing!
People often ask me if I am creating TLE as a slap in the face for organized
religion. Im sure it will be perceived that way by many, but thats not the
message at all. Quite the opposite. Believe in something. Care.
Well, Im tapped out, I think. Its getting cold and my stomach is rumbling.
Theres a 24 hour McDonalds about seventy-five feet from here- youve
probably seen it on TV. Ill be in there if you need me.
