Episode 14: Dreaming Amidst Dogma

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. There’s a guy in a bunker in Sacramento. Or possibly Detroit. But he’s there. Not much else. Times Square is putting on it’s best face, possibly because of the coming event but more likely the plunger-shaped lead -tipped enema administered by it’s elected Füher. Truth is no one cares because it’s a hollow event. It’s 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. We’re 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, we’ll 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, I’m back.

I seem to have returned to Times Square.

If you’ve never been here, I really can’t do this justice. Josh dragged me out here at the absurd hour of 3:06 AM, claiming his usual argument.

"I can’t 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 I’m typing by the light of a television that takes up the entire face of a building. There’s 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. He’s typing Quality Control to my right, listening to DJ Crush. He can’t hear. Subsequently, it doesn’t come up in his column& I know this because I’m reading what he’s 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 it’s 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.

I’m 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 ain’t got that kinda of money, dog." He smirks.

"What you all doin?"

Josh looks up

"Writin’ a column."

"Yeah, I’m 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 we’re making. He’s writing it and I’m 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, I’ll 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 Year’s 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 it’s 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 Bronson’s collective of survivors, culled from any tragedy or atrocity.

The Congregation: Father Srdjan Dragomir’s assembly of the faithful. It doesn’t matter what you believe, so long as you believe.

The Chamber: Young Emily Vasquez’s family for freaks, rejects and outcasts of all stripes.

The Order: DJ Dexter Tenchi’s group of graphic designers, electronic musicians, and techies.

The Squad: Maintane’s 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 Vaughn’s circle of occultists and powermongers.

The Crush: Evan Powell’s cult of personality, hellbent on sexual exploitation of the weak.

The Firm: Franklin Talbot’s multi-billion dollar salvation company.

The Hoard: Jude DiEche’s hive-mind of hatemongers ranging from white supremacists to 5 percenters and everything in between.

The Institute: Dr. Alistair Stone’s 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.

That’s 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 isn’t 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. That’s 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. I’m sure it will be perceived that way by many, but that’s not the message at all. Quite the opposite. Believe in something. Care.

Well, I’m tapped out, I think. It’s getting cold and my stomach is rumbling. There’s a 24 hour McDonalds about seventy-five feet from here- you’ve probably seen it on TV. I’ll be in there if you need me.