Glitches in Reality

The click-clack click-clack of the light rail slowed while the power went out in the city, one grid after another. Inside the train car a woman screamed.

"Is there a priest in here?" a man next to the woman called out.

At the other side of the crowded light rail car Deacon Larry Frank looked over and started to stand.

"This lady needs a priest!"

Larry, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a grocery bag, made his way over. "I'm a deacon," he said. "Does she need a doctor?"

The light rail was still moving, coasting along in the darkness.

"Does it look like she needs a doctor?"

The woman was neither young, nor old. Larry guessed she was 45, and warmly dressed on the floor of the car, eyes shut while she mumbled and crossed herself. To Larry she looked happy and comfortable, like a baby seal sunbathing on a beach.

"What the hell is a deacon?"

"A deacon is one of three official clergy of the church, like a priest or a bishop," Larry said.

"Are you Catholic?"

"Episcopalian."

"A pistol what?"

Larry sighed. At least the train was still moving. "Episcopalian means 'bishop.' It's part of the Anglican Church. We're like Roman Catholics, but we're American. So technically, we're Protestant because our liturgy comes through England, the Anglican Church. But we don't identify with the Queen -- I'm sorry, the King as Supreme Governor."

"So you a priest, or what?"

Larry took a deep breath and sighed again. "No. I'm lower-ranking than a priest. But I can sometimes do the same...look, I don't think she needs a priest. Maybe she just needs to take her meds."

"Yeah? You're a doctor all of a sudden?"

"She's clutching a pharmacy bag in her hand, there, so I just thought --"

Her eyes opened, and she screamed, "Chalamet!"

The crowd around her stepped back in alarm.

"Timothée Chalamet!"

The man next to her looked dismissively at Larry. "I think you've done enough. I'm calling the paramedics."

As Larry made his way back to his side of the car, the light rail slowed to a standstill outside a train stop, which was as far as it was going until the power came back. Stepping off the train, Larry questioned his need to take public transportation while he had a perfectly good car at home. He told himself he was communing with his neighbors, but the truth was he never knew how to fit in. Out in the dark night air, he soaked in the murmurs and questions surrounding him.

"Why did she need a priest?"

"Why did all the lights go out?"

"It's the Purge. I'm telling you."

"Alien zombies, man. They're finally here."

The electricity at Larry Frank's apartment clicked on later that night, and the next day the city was fully restored. Taking advantage of the power available to him, he browsed the internet. The truth was, dating as a deacon was rough. Unlike the Catholic faith, an ordained Episcopalian deacon could marry. So he had no excuses. Or, no excuses that mattered, at least. But every time he tried to dip his toes into regular society and converse with normal people, his feet would get wet and slimy; he didn't like the feeling, and, worse, he didn't understand the metaphor.

So Larry surfed the web, waiting for inspiration to strike.

Traditionally when an unassuming human unearths an ancient god it's an archaeologist reading the wrong religious text carved inside a crypt. But today, there are hundreds of sacred scripts translated and published electronically online. You just have to be unlucky enough to pick the right one.

Larry had picked one, titled Summoning Sumerian Magick. It was available on Amazon, but only as an audible book. He almost pushed the Buy Now button, but then paused.

How did he get here? What search led him to this end? His memory was foggy, but he recalled an artist's rendering of Ereshkigal, a Mesopotamian goddess of the underworld.

The button waited.

It certainly wasn't something he needed. He didn't even know if he was interested in finding out what the book was. Strangely, it was only available as an Audible audio book. But it had a huge discount, so he bought it.

He hit play when it downloaded, but the words were in an unfamiliar language. There was a chanting chorus in the background, and it was melodious, but the harmony wasn't quite right. Foreign, yet familiar, Larry's brain associated it with Nine Inch Nails playing over the top of Cake.

Deacon Larry Frank woke with a start, and there she was, a beautiful woman standing in his living room, naked except for a pair of leather high-heel boots and a great pair of feathery wings. No, on second look those weren't actually boots; they were bird feet with large, raptor claws. And the oversized wings protruding from her back alternately folded in and pitched forward like those of an agitated swan. Her hair was black, her eyes onyx, and her glare caustic.

"This place is a dump," she said.

"Sorry," he said. "I live alone, so--"

"You make forty-seven grand a year, though, right? You should be able to spruce up the place."

"How--?" he started. "Who--?"

"You're a cleric, aren't you? Devoted your life to worshiping gods?"

"Just the one god, though," he said.

"Which one?"

"God. Sorry, are you a demon? I can't help but feel like I shouldn't be...fraternizing with you, seeing as I serve the Church. Although I'm probably dreaming this anyway."

"That's a little offensive. The only difference between a god and a demon is that the god's on your side. So, really, you decide who the demons are."

"I haven't really thought of it that way," he said. "Do you want a...blanket, or something? Look, I'm really only interested in the god of Abraham, so--"

"That's why I'm here," she said. "Your sky god El needs you to break him out of the underworld. He was put there by Baal and Yahweh."

"That doesn't make sense. God is all-powerful. And besides--"

"So where is he?" she asked, pacing about the room and snagging long tears into his carpet with her talons. "You really need a new couch. I'm here and he's not. You summoned me because your mission is to rescue him."

"But I don't really believe in all this."

"You wear the shirt with the collar, right? And the robes?"

Deacon Larry Frank couldn't reply, so he just nodded feebly.

"Let's make a list of things you'll need," she said. "Write this down. First, a shovel, and some lye."

Larry sighed dramatically and found a pen and a stack of Post-It notes.

"Also, you'll need to buy a lot more books."

He bought more books, and supplies, including six trips to Home Depot. Some of the tools, like the saws and lengths of chain, could double as weapons, which was important for some reason. When he was finished with the list he sat down at his kitchen table to rest, looking at the stacks of bins and piles of things. He wondered what the three bags of fertilizer were for.

"You need to buy an airline ticket," she said, handing him another list.

"To Tell el-Muqa..."

"Tell el-Muqayyar, Iraq," she said. "That's where he is."

"Oh. I'm not really prepared for travel."

She pointed to the stacks and piles on his now-ruined carpet. "You're prepared."

"And this is God we're talking about, right?" he asked, his voice now pensive. "The god of Abraham?"

"That's the one. El. Elyon. El Shaddai. Il. Ilyah."

"Did you also mention Yahweh? Is Yahweh and El the same god?"

"Yes, Yahweh," she said. "No, he's a different god, of course. Yahweh is the volcano god of fire. You don't read much, for a cleric."

"Is Yahweh...can we -- is Yahweh still around?"

"Yeah, he rebirths every thirty years or so. He doesn't do much, but you can visit him, if you like."

"Would we have to travel to Iraq?"

She picked up his phone and scrolled through his browser. "No, he's here, in America, I think. Yeah, here he is. Currently, he's Pete Davidson."

"Oh. That Pete Davidson?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

"So...?"

"I know I haven't slept in a really long time, but what I'm starting to miss is my church," Larry said. "The building, itself. It's not ancient, but it's a little old, and it's comfortable. It's cool and quiet inside, and I think that's nice."

She turned, walked toward the window, bent over, and lifted it open. "So you're not going to fulfill your destiny of finding your true path?"

He hesitated. "Nah, I'm good."

She jumped up on the window sill, her talons splintering the wood with a crack as she gripped her perch, and then jumped out, wings flapping and beating. Larry could hear screams and yells from the people below as she soared over the city, but he didn't look. Turning away, he slowly pulled the window closed.