The details were pretty vague. They need six months to pull everything together. The announcement of the plan to the public will come next month but they won’t announce who’s been chosen to go until a month before it happens. Waiting to reveal the identities of the time travelers is partially for security and partially because they intend to launch a public relations campaign to boost my celebrity. They want me to be the household standard of credibility and trustworthiness when the time comes.
Despite all these variables how could I say no? I’ve spent my entire adult life studying ancient religion and now I have the chance to observe the birth of Christianity. Whether the Bible is accurate or not, this is the adventure of a lifetime. More importantly though, maybe this is my opportunity to understand faith rather than just read about it.
As I exit the tube car two men from the corps who are protecting me are easy to pick out in the crowd. I consider giving them the slip for fun until I notice a woman who might also be watching me. She’s walking a parallel course while talking on her com but the conversation doesn’t sound natural and she keeps glancing at me. If she’s another corps agent it’ll be fun to watch her reaction by doing something unexpected.
I make an erratic turn straight towards her and close the distance. She looks straight at me with a surprised expression and just as we’re about to collide I slow my pace, pass just centimeters behind her and walk to a food stand. When she’s another fifteen steps away she looks over her shoulder at me then stops at a map of the tube station. I buy some candy and join her at the map.
“Do you need directions?” I ask.
She’s most likely a few years older than me but I can’t see any enhancements. I really do prefer people who choose to look natural. She’s also wearing clothing that’s either very old or would be considered very plain by today’s standards. They almost look like they were sewn by hand.
“Four?” she asks.
“Four what?”
“Sorry. Where do I find the bay for hover bus number four?”
“All bus stops are up two floors from here. I think number four is on the right.”
“Thank you.”
She gives me a pleasant smile and is on her way, but not before looking back at me twice.
She’s not from the corps. Could she be a Christian?
There are now three corps guys in sight. I scan their faces and see that none of them noticed anything unusual about the woman and I’m certainly not going to raise an alarm. She may be just a visitor from out of town and there’s no telling what the corps might do to her. If anyone else were to point a finger at her she’d just end up on a watch list while suspicion raised personally by The Cult Hunter could get her killed without reason and I don’t want that on my hands.
Chapter Six
I’d prefer to cancel my advanced class and continue sorting through my thoughts but I’d just have to reschedule so I decide to get it over with. I step onto the podium with the usual fanfare of lights and cameras. My screen indicates there are only a dozen in the live audience today but there are still six offers for sex, which I delete. Another hundred or so are watching remotely.
“Let’s start with a little review. Last time I told you that following the Final Holy War there was a fifty year period in which Christianity surged in the Middle East as the few remaining Jews and Muslims distanced themselves from the horror of nuclear devastation and a biological attack that went global. Who can describe what was happening outside of the Middle East, particularly in the large cities of Europe and North America?”
I call on Ms. Mikami in Japan.
“The Holy War continued in the form of terrorism and violence.”
“Very good,” I say. “Churches, mosques and synagogues were burned to the ground as each group joined in continuous retaliation against the other. The death toll from beheadings performed by the remaining Islamic extremists alone numbered in the tens of thousands. What else was happening during that time?”
As I call on young man in the live audience named Ali I realize Martha McLeod is sitting in the back row. She’s not registered in this class.
“World food and water supplies were decreasing,” Ali says.
“And why were food and water supplies decreasing?”
“The main reason was pollution,” he replies. “There was a combination of the nuclear fallout and industrial waste, the latter coming mostly from the toxic waste in the southern hemisphere created by mining the materials being consumed in the northern hemisphere.”
“The north was polluting the south? Please explain.”
“Part of the problem was the toxic materials used in making solar panels and wind turbines after all carbon fuels were banned but the bigger problem was Christian excesses. They had holidays where they’d give gifts of all sorts of useless junk that they’d usually just throw away. Pollution alone was reason enough to ban all religions.”
“It’s nice to see everyone was paying attention. So the world was on a course of extraordinary violence and religious extremism coupled with slow starvation due to pollution. The earth was a real hell hole. How did we manage to pull ourselves out of it?”
I call on Ms. Jones in New York.
“The Sunspot Initiative,” she says.
“Exactly. In 2098 Sunspot One, the world’s first hot fusion reactor came on line in Lake Superior in Michigan. It was the first manmade object to be visible from space since the completion of the Great Wall of China many centuries earlier. As it does today, Sunspot One provided free power to all of North and South America. And what was the result of that happy, triumphant occasion?”
“The world came close to a full out nuclear war,” Ms. Jones replies.
“Yes. For a ten year period the American continents had unlimited electricity. They were able to automate everything and could manufacture anything cheaper and therefore enjoyed crushing every economy in the world under their boots. With that much power they also invented new ways to do everything cleanly and even cleaned up every sort of old toxic dump you can imagine. In just a decade the Americas became a paradise where there was no pollution and everyone’s needs were fulfilled. With unlimited electricity we built the tube system, we could make tons of steel hover in the air and so the hover bus came into being and on and on. So how did that push us towards war?”
This time I call on Mr. Travis in Montreal. “The rest of the world wanted what the Americas had.”
“Who wouldn’t?” I ask. “It was paradise. As a matter of fact, why don’t we go so far as to call it ‘Man’s Garden of Eden’? This period is referred to as ‘The Great Christian Revival’ in Europe, Africa and Asia. Islam and Judaism were waning after the war, Christianity was growing and everyone was bonded by their common hatred of the Americas prosperity. If the Americas were Eden then the rest of the world was ready to start a holy crusade to capture it. Now who can tell me what was happening to religion in the Americas as the rest of the world was having a Christian revival?”
No volunteers light up my screen but I see Martha raise her hand. Although she’s wearing a com she’s not registered for the class so the desk didn’t activate when she sat down. I smile and tell the computer to activate her desk. Her picture comes onto the screens.
“Christianity and all other religions in the Americas were falling apart during that time period,” she says.
“Yes. Which brings us to the big question of the day and one of the central themes of this entire class. Why did religion fall apart in America during that time?”
“You said it yourself,” Martha replies without being called upon. “Man made his own Eden so he decided he no longer needed to dream of God’s Eden.”
“And how did the world avoid a full scale nuclear war?”
“The Americas chose to export their Eden rather than fight. They helped the world build Sunspot Two in Lake Baikal in Siberia and Sunspot Three in Lake Victoria in Africa. Together the three reactors reach over ninety-nine percen
t of the world.”
“And within another two decades the world was at peace,” I add for effect. “So I’ll leave you all with this question. If the entire world is now ‘Man’s Eden’, why is Christianity still around at all?”
***
As soon as the cameras deactivate my com buzzes and tells me Henry Portman wants to speak with me.
“That lecture was brilliant Cephas! Just brilliant!”
Luckily my com automatically adjusts the sound or he’d hurt my ears with his excitement.
“You tapped in on my lecture?”
“Of course. And as soon as we make the announcement of the project I’m going to put the squeeze on your University to make all of your lectures available to the public. The bureau will make up any loss in tuition of course. Send me your plans for the next lecture and maybe we can tweak them a little. We should start introducing more and more doubt about the origins of Christian cults over the next few months.”
Henry’s tone tells me this is more than a friendly suggestion.
Push back.
“Let’s walk carefully when it comes to my lectures. If I start to sound scripted it might be bad for credibility.”
“With your lecturing talent? Not a chance. I knew you’d be the perfect spokesman to sell this project to the public. I’ll send you some ideas for your next lecture.”
He hangs up before I can respond. I can now add the corps censoring my lectures to the many things weighing on my mind.
I look up to see Martha still sitting in the studio and realize she heard my half of the conversation. She walks towards me and climbs onto the stage.
Nobody’s ever jumped onto my stage before.
I look pointedly at her feet then look up to find her smirking.
“Hello Ms. McLeod. You’re not supposed to attend a class for which you’re not registered, but I’m still glad you came.”
She looks directly into my eyes.
Breathe, Cephas.
“Will the world renowned Cult Hunter get in trouble for activating my seat?”
I can’t tell. Was that challenging or flirting?
“I doubt it, but I’m sure it’s already been noted on both of our records.”
She smiles at my reply. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile and it makes me feel lit up.
I guess she was flirting. Did I just flirt back?
“You’re eligible to register for this class when I teach it again next semester, I’ll just say you showed up a little early. Is there anything else I can do for you Ms. McLeod?”
“What’s the story with calling everyone ‘Ms.’ and ‘Mr.’ and insisting we call you ‘Professor’? You’re my age, eighteen years old but you try to act like you’re much older.”
My age is considered classified. It’s never been written in any book.
“Is that just another part of the ego trip? Why can’t you just call me Martha?”
Although it’s out of character, I sigh audibly. Yesterday my life was simple but this morning I found out I’ve been marked for death, that I’m going to be sent back in time and worst of all, that I’m an active cult hunter again. My mind feels like an egg that’s been scrambled and I’m not in the mood to be challenged even if it’s done in a flirty manner.
“I take my classes and the subject matter very seriously Ms. McLeod and therefore demand a professional atmosphere. This course has been designed as the first step for those who want to someday join the hunter corps. If you’re looking for fun then I suggest you find it in your art class.”
“What? How do you know I’m taking an art class?”
“You dripped some paint on your left shoe.”
She involuntarily glances at four tiny droplets of yellow paint on her brown shoe.
“Are you ready to make those sorts of detailed observations and piece hundreds of them together? If so, maybe you have a future in the corps investigations arm where I worked. In the three years I’ve been teaching this course, you’re the first to have any real potential.”
Her body angles back by a centimeter, my final statement has thrown her off balance.
Better her than me for once.
“Of all the students you’ve had, I’m the first you see with potential? Why?”
“You’re bright, you’re curious and most of all you’re driven.”
I look into those wonderful eyes again.
“There’s something in your eyes that tells me you want more from your life than sex, drugs and whatever your com tells you to think and do. I never say so in lectures but the Sunspot reactors that give us everything we want also gave us the most addictive drug ever created, apathy. People are content to sit around all day and exist. When I look into your eyes I see that you don’t want to just exist, you want to live.”
Martha takes a step back likes she’s afraid of me and I realize I was getting pretty intense. I back a half step away from her as well.
“I’m sorry Ms.… I’m sorry Martha. I was in D.C. for most of the day and there’s a lot weighing on my mind. It wasn’t fair to dump it onto you. But I really did mean what I said about your potential.”
She’s done it again. She got me to lower my guard. Could she already work for the corps and this is some sort of test?
“Wow,” she says.
Rather than answering I prompt her to continue with an expectant look.
“Who would have thought it possible? The Cult Hunter is a human being.”
I drain all emotion from my face, it’s the only way I can avoid betraying just how many emotions are running through me.
“Human enough for that to hurt, Ms. McLeod.”
I step off the stage which causes the lights to shut off, leaving her in the dark behind me.
***
I start to walk. I don’t want to speak to anyone, I don’t want to see anyone, I don’t want to think about what lies ahead of me and I especially don’t want the burden of maintaining The Cult Hunter image. If anyone speaks to me the best they can expect is a growl.
On the way home I leave my usual route and stop at an ancient park that’s several blocks from my house. Few people ever come here because it’s been designated a historic park which means it still has grass, trees, rose bushes and an ancient bronze statue rather than hover pads and interactive hologram statues.
I sit on a bench and close my eyes. This is the opposite of the endless noise offered by a com. Here I can empty my mind by feeling the sun on my face and listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees. It goes against all of my corps training, but when I sit here I always feel safe and at peace.
To my right I hear the gentle swish of footsteps approaching me through the grass. I wonder if it’s a corps agent coming to protect me or a Christian assassin coming to end me. I don’t open my eyes to find out. Whoever it is, let them come.
“Professor?”
I don’t believe it. It’s Martha McLeod again. Why won’t she just take her sparkling blue eyes and go away?
“What is it now?”
“An apology.”
“Don’t waste it on a cult hunter. Save it for a human being.”
“Do you want the apology or not?”
“It won’t be the strangest thing to happen to me today, so go ahead.”
“Like I said earlier, I’ve read all about you. I guess I wanted to impress you but I didn’t know how. I mean, how do you impress The Cult Hunter? Everyone knows how you stopped another holy war by hunting and killing Christians, sometimes with nothing but your bare hands.”
“How many do you think I personally killed? Bare hands or otherwise.”
“Well, according to one unofficial biography you tortured and killed four dozen just to break the final Christian code.”
“Did I? I must have lost count after three dozen.”
Everyone thinks torture is the line I crossed to find the answer. If it had only been that simple.
“It’s also well known that you travele
d around Europe a few months before the code was broken and there are rumors that you killed dozens more over there. And early in your career--”
“Stop.”
My voice is barely above a whisper.
Should I tell her the truth? In three years I’ve never broken the persona I’m supposed to portray. If she works for the corps there’ll be hell to pay but if not maybe I’d have someone I can talk to. Maybe this emptiness could come to an end.
“If you’d like the exact number, hand me your com. I can’t allow you to record it and if it’s announced to the public… well, that would be a big mistake on your part in the eyes of the corps.”
I hold out my hand. She hesitates a long time before I feel her drop her com into it.
“The exact number is zero. I was never a field agent and I never personally captured a single Christian. I’ve never even met one.”
Martha stands in silence so I open my eyes to find her staring into them.
Can she see eye sparkles too?
“That explains a lot,” she says. “Since I met you I’ve had a hard time seeing you as a killer.”
“Then you’re asking the wrong question again. You asked how many I personally killed but the real question is the number of dead Christians for which I’m personally responsible. The answer to that question is ‘all of them’. I sat in my office and uncovered their hiding places. I killed them all.”
Chapter Seven
I don’t have a class the next day so I lie in the park, wondering if Martha will find me here again. It’s so peaceful that I’m even able to put up with having my com in my ear as I do my mandatory hours. After four hours I remove my com and am almost asleep when I hear the swishing of approaching feet in the grass.
Her footfalls are exactly like yesterday. She’s as steady as a metronome.
As she gets closer I can hear her humming a simple tune from my childhood. Actually, it’s from everyone’s collective childhood because it’s a tune you learn in school.
I continue to lie in the grass with my eyes closed, choosing to study her voice instead of her face.
“You’re humming a classic today, Ms. McLeod but we’ll need some more people if you’re in the mood to play C&C.”