*
“The time is nigh,” Beth whispered to no one in particular, though she wondered if her computer was listening. With some difficulty, and a few expletives, she managed to access the video file that Paul Edison, her new supervisor asked her to review. An introductory screen explained that it was a copy of an unreleased Infomercial by the Church of the Ultimate Signifier, soon to be seen across the country on broadcast, cable and computer line. How it was obtained was not explained. She clicked on the START icon and settled back, more annoyed than amazed at the versatility of her machine.
A serene, smiling woman appeared on Beth’s screen. The second she saw her, Beth couldn’t help but admire her composure.
“Hi,” she said, “Two years ago, I was a crack addict wandering the streets of New York. Today, I’m a successful chef in my own plush, upscale restaurant. That’s right, a woman making it big in a male dominated industry. How’d I do it? With the help of the Great Word, I learned the facts about what I was up against, in the world and in myself. With the help of Calico and the Church of the Ultimate Signifier, I uncovered the source of my own listlessness, and I beat it.”
The camera began a slow zoom to a close-up. No longer impressed, Beth’s eyebrow arched derisively.
“Did you know,” the woman said, “that the reason European chefs are all male can be traced back to an 18th century belief that women of class are supposed to be idle? Back then, it was not only unseemly for a wealthy woman to cook, it was a sign of abject failure. As time passed, Western women began associating success not with action and reward, but with idleness. So not only did this Aeon perpetuate male dominance in the kitchen, it left those women who did cook for their families thinking themselves failures. This is one of many thought patterns I inherited purely by being born into our culture. That’s right, our culture. There are two words you don’t hear together much anymore. I tell you, once I took control of my life and put that Aeon to rest, my quest for new idyll highs faded into nothing, and my career took off like a rocket.”
The camera stopped zooming at an intimate moment, then switched to a different angle. The woman dutifully adjusted the direction of her head and went on.
“Now, we’re not all idlers,” she said confidently, “but we all have Aeons. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself if your Aeons work with you or against you. Are you a poet trapped in a Warrior Aeon? Are you a meek businessman whose days are still secretly ruled by the class bells you heard in High School? That’s an Aeon, too. Whoever you are, whatever mode you’re in, it always pays to be aware.”
A small banner flashed on the bottom of the screen, reading, “Paid for by the Church of the Ultimate Signifier.”
The file ended, but Beth kept staring at the blank screen for a few minutes, wondering what to make of it. Then she glanced at the time and hurried to the Assistant Director’s office.
Although she arrived right on time, Assistant Director Edison was waiting for her in the hall. Hand on her back, he hurriedly escorted her into his office. He didn’t even wait until she was seated before he started talking.
“So Beth,” he said, What do you know about this new church?”
“Some bag woman named Calico received a “call” and started proselytizing. Her followers formed a loosely-knit organization they call a church, funded by donations. It started here in the city, but with the publication of the Great Word, it’s been making quick inroads around the country, mostly in urban and college areas. Other than its size and the speed at which it’s growing, there’s nothing particularly atypical about the Church or its belief system, except, perhaps a strong desire to appeal to mass market tastes and current trends. It’s kind of the McDonald’s of cults,” she said.
Edison pushed a sealed file towards Beth. She picked it up, noted its classification rank then looked at Edison with concern. He nodded, indicating she should open it.
As she struggled with the seal, he said, “That’s the official story. What we know is in that file. A few of our boys, uh, boys and girls ... Damn, that sounds ridiculous. Sometimes I hate this language. Hell, a few of our people have managed to uncover the real money behind the church. That’s on page A3, I believe.”
Beth flipped through the file, then scanned the names. Her brow furrowed. The names were all familiar, but seemed wildly out of context when presented on the same page with the word ‘Church.’
“This is Albert Keech’s crew,” she said, bewildered, “What would big rollers like that want with this church?”
“We don’t know, and we’d really like to,” Edison said, then he smiled at her, “Beth, congratulations. Your performance has been superlative. The Church of the Ultimate Whatever the Hell It Is, is all yours. Once your preliminary research is done, you’ll have five agents under your command for infiltration and fact gathering.”
“Thank you, sir,” Beth said, “I, uh, don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Proceed slowly. I’ll be checking in with you regularly. I suspect you’ll want to suspend your interviews at the Jesus Ward,” he said.
“Uh, actually, there is one more interview I’d like to conduct there.”
“Oh yes, your high school boyfriend. Dr. Gald tells me he delayed that interview for a few months when he learned of your past relationship.”
“Personal interest aside, sir, his delusional pattern is unique. He thinks he wrote a bible. This Calico, if she is the author of The Great Word, seems to be assuming the same for herself. He might be helpful in establishing personality profiles or other patterns,” she said.
“As you see fit, Agent Mansfield,” he said, nodding, “but I do want you to chat about this with one of our therapists, before and after.”
Beth nodded, then her eyes trailed down to the Growth Projections in the file.
The supervisor was apparently expecting her to leave. When she didn’t, he asked, “Something else, Beth?”
“There are very powerful men behind this movement, sir. Experts in financing and merchandising, and I guess that partly explains the speed at which the cult is growing, but I was wondering, what it would mean if these projections were correct, if they reached thirty million followers inside of two years,” Beth asked.
“Then, agent,” Edison said without blinking, “they are no longer a cult. They are a religion.”