Apocalypse Then…

“Who are you,” asked The Silence.

I understand it is pretty odd for a narrator to ask The Reader such a question. I guarantee that Who you are is just as pertinent as “who I am.” I am famous, rich, and celebrated through the passage of time. Although entirely interesting, I am still very much interested in “You” because who you are is a direct reflection of who I was.

There is an Ancient saying to help you: “In Regret a Gory Test.”

“Which,” said The Silence.

May seem strange, and yet, it tells you everything you need to know to know exactly who I am.

My name is Gregory!

“I am Great;” some have even called me Saintly. I was an architect in my day; I expect you're wondering what I could have constructed to elevate me to the heights I claim.

“The answer is You,” said Gregory. You and everything you believe in, which is why who you are is my greatest interest. For what is a saint but a sinner with doors to hide behind.?

Let me tell you a story of one such door…

“Death is The Stilled Blackness of closed eyes. In The Fainted Paleness of Light, it appears encircled and imbibed.”

— The Hush of a Memory

Steam rises within the private Roman bathhouse in the year 590ce; four men wearing golden masks sit in a circle with a fifth open seat. To the left of each man stood a naked slave girl, frozen in fear of the terror their futures beheld. Through the steam of frozen time, Echos of a voice reverberated off the limestone enclosure, like tuning in a radio station just coming into focus.

The silence echoed, “Money is like a grease which opens any door one could want to force open without the violence of Blood & War.”

Silence…

Echo, “and all the slaves we could ever want to Fuck;” said with laughter.

Silence…

The heat of the bathhouse baked the temperature of the conversation into the walls along with the blood stains history left bare. The bathhouse wasn't extravagant; as Roman bathhouses go, it was on the plain side. Food and Wine were the only decorations in this makeshift cave. In one corner, a large bed made of pillows drew the terrified gaze of each stilled slave. The center of the room held five limestone seats, one of which sat on an elevated platform, demanding the attention of the others.

On this seat was a man wearing the Golden face of Jupiter; his body showed the wearing of time his mask tried to hide. To his left lay an empty seat; the one just after held a man similar in age wearing the face of Fames, a female deity known as the personification of Hunger. Next was Febris, the goddess of Fever and Malaria. Lastly, at the right hand of Jupiter sat Pluto, the God of Death.

Hades was waiting for War to arrive…

The dust of that still-frozen room glistened in the torchlight. With a snap, reality crashed into motion, and that silent space flowed with life once again.

An intimidating crack sank into the limestone seat with Pluto’s fist. “I want him dead, even if I have to kill him myself!”

Jupiter laughed as he said, “Calm down; you aren't going to kill anyone.”

“I will kill his name,” Pluto burned; “that will be good enough for me!”

This time, it was Fames who tried to calm Death down; “My student, how quickly you forget our most valuable lesson. We Teach Anger; we do not practice it,” Fames bellowed.

Anger infuses “The Stupid” into quicker and bloodier violence within their ignorance; we cannot control them if we succumb as well. His ideas won't keep legs long; our councils will see to that.

“Yes,” fumed Pluto as he took a deep breath, “but if people start to believe that God is in them, they won't need or listen to us, and The Money Train ends!”

“Is that what you all want,” scowled Pluto.

A uniformed “No” echoed through the room; once subsided, a fainted whisper of pleeful cries is all that can be heard in this silent retreat.

Jupiter once again commanded the conversation; “Revelations is in place, and all we need to do is set a few more dominos before the time ends on our intentions.”

“We can't allow people to think beyond the problems,” chirped Febris. If men fix men's problems, what would we need God for? As long as we tie up their problems with confusion about “What is Right,” who can challenge us?

“We own Right,” said Pluto with a smile of relief.

“Pluto, you smug bastard,” roared the entryway.

Through the doorway walked a man wearing the face of Bellona, the goddess of bloodshed, conquest, and madness in war, who rides a chariot pulled by four horses.

“You really are A Taunt Genius,” mused Bellona.

“Yes, I am,” smiled Pluto under his mask, “but why this time?”

“It's nice of you to join us, Bellona,” Jupiter said.

“Virtuoso is Rubies Aim,” said Bellona with a nod to Jupiter as he took his seat.

“Your Trinity of Evil is far more effective than I initially gave you credit for; it's so simple it's almost idiotic,” said Bellona.

“Simplicity breeds Conformity,” declared Pluto. “This is my very point,” he boiled; “if we lose the first leg, the whole milk stool falls.

“Everyone is born a sinner; killing sinners is ok, as long as you say you're doing it for God.”

Justification allows for a just war against original sin, and we blame women for it all. Generations of men won't know to think differently. The cave of men all laugh together as one.

“Keep them Angry and Fucking,” faded into a distant whisper.

Silence and frozen dust once again fill the air…

“Why Limestone,” asks The Silence.

Of all the things this dank crypt of a bathhouse could have been made with, “Why limestone?” Limestone is a freestone; it can be shaped into anything because, even in nature, God allows us to cut our own path. Once it is formed, limestone remembers every vibration of action around it.

“Is the world about to end,” or am I too early for the grand reveal, quipped The Silence. “I would love to tell you who I am, but the suspense is so sweet, and I haven't had anything sweet in a very long time.”

Since it's not yet “Apocolypse Now,” we should get back to then…

Like pressing play on a movie, Jupiter spoke again as silence fell into the background.

“If we keep people Hungry (Famine), Sick (Pestilence), and in Fear of the Death our Inquisitions will bring. WAR will be a welcomed pain ignorance allows through Victory!

“They think themselves masters of life and death, appointing themselves to the glory Monsters never wait on God for,” paused The Silence.

“War costs more than blood,” said Jupiter.

“Fames, I want you to travel around preaching about the priceless treasures we must sell to feed the hungry,” Jupiter curled.

“You want me to sell things,” Fames said, confused.

“No,” barked Jupiter, “only tell people we have to sell off things so they pity us and don’t think about what they are handing over.”

“Like their daughters,” said Fames as his grotesque finger ran up the terrified arm of the slave sobbing next to him.

“Yes,” Jupiter said maniacally, and all their Gold!

“Knowing just where to cut is what makes me A Bonsai Master,” uttered Fames with a nod. Using humility as platitude isn't really even a skill; “it's just acting.”

“How are The Moirai,” Pluto asked Febris; “I assume they are on schedule?”

“A Joint Menses requires devotion, and in that regard, they are not lacking, said Febris. “They are out causing sickness and death as we speak; none will be safe from their doorway.”

“Good, then the fun can begin,” oozed Jupiter with evil intent in the direction of the pillowed bed.

Silence cut the air a final time; we have arrived at the conclusion of this tale, but before all is revealed, I wanted to elucidate how in awe I am at your acquiescence to my will you all have been. I briefly remarked about the meaning of limestone and hinted at “Freedom of Choice” as being why memory was so final in what it becomes.

It's because “You Are Limestone” you were free until we molded you into our actionable will. Look at Society and all that it has built and burned away, the very way you are allowed to move bows to our design.

“Lights made of Laws,” mused The Silence.

My Laws!

Green allows your “Greed to Go,” while The Passions of Christ’s Love & Blood force you to Stop and Suffer Life. The selfishness of Golden’s Yellow emboldened lottery allows you to chance Death for a little more Green without consequences, especially for the rich and influential.

“The Greed of your transportation alone is marvelous to behold,” Silence laughed. I promised you answers, and as The Prince of Lies, I have none for you, but they are hiding somewhere in this story.

“Apathy is all that stops you from looking, so I ask again,” said The Silence.

“Who Are You?”