Harris Bedwell knew things had to change - drastically. He started paying attention to the way he dressed - going for something a notch or two above business casual - usually a dress shirt with a tie and khaki pants.
He was pretty healthy - all things considered.
On Saturday, he invited Pippa Perrins out to a local Greek restaurant in town - not one of those diners with a 30 page menu, but more of an upscale joint if you catch my drift. Harris ordered his favorite dish - the veal marsala, and Pippa went for the grilled lamb chops.
“This whole Christianity thing,” said Harris, looking over the wine list, “I’m pretty new to it. It all started making sense to me when I started reading the Bible - mostly from the New Testament. You know, my mom never made me go to Sunday school growing up - and I didn’t have any interest in going myself.”
“Oh I did,” said Pippa.
“You were interested in Jesus as a kid?”
“No but I was forced to go to this Baptist church for as long as I can remember.” she laughed, “my mom and dad would make me go from as long as I can remember until I was 18 - but now? - I’m such a back-slider. Probably the backiest backslider who ever was.”
“Is that what you call it?” smirked Harris. “You seem proud of it - like it’s a good thing.”
“Well here’s the truth - if I were to waltz into my childhood church, they’d toss me right out the back door. They’re really good at practicing church discipline.”
“What do you think about the Bible? It’s not like any other book out there, and I read a lot. Do you believe the claims of Christ?”
“Not really,” she said.
“So obviously you don’t think He is the Son of God.”
“No way. Not at all,” she said. “I mean, some of the beatitudes are good. I can see how they might comfort people who are struggling a lot with life in general. I just don’t like how some of these religious zealots push their own interpretations on me.
“You mean like pastors and priests?”
“Not just them, but anyone else who goes along with them and helps propagate a lot of that nonsense. I want to live my life MY way, Harris. I can’t follow some rule-book - and I just can’t buy into all those miracles. Now that’s some insane stuff. The miracles. How do people actually believe some sky-daddy flooded the earth - and that’s nothing compared to Him telling Noah to build an ark and load it up with every male and female animal. Sure. All lies!!” she said loudly.
“Shhhhh,” said Harris. “Keep it down Pippa.”
“They’re very good lies, and there are a ton of them,” she said whisper-shouting, “they all get passed down generation to generation. I think that’s why people still go to church - it’s why Christianity has lasted as long as it has.”
“Well Sunday morning is the most segregated day of the week. That has more to do with disbelief in His Word than the miracles. A lot of people see segregation as sin or hypocrisy or a combination of the two. I don’t see it that way - but the miracles? I see miracles happen every day. Cancer being eradicated from the body - or a drunk or drug addict that finally quits their addiction - how about the birth of a beautiful baby made in the image of God? Should I go on?”
“Those aren’t even miracles. I’m talking about the anomalies of natural order. What you’re talking about is action versus reaction - maybe mind over matter - and babies being born aren’t miracles, just science at work. No, it's the fairy tales that are in there. It’s the preachers preaching them and the believers that pass them down to their kids like they actually happened. There has to be a scientific explanation why the red sea was parted by a guy named Moses… or how Christ was resurrected from the dead. I still think his body was stolen.”
“Well at least five-hundred saw Christ after his crucifixion, but you forgot the creation of the entire universe. Now THAT’S a miracle.”
“I believe the conspiracies more than the accounts detailed in the New Testament … and do you have any idea how many translations there are from the original aramaic and Greek?”
“No, do you?”
“Over a thousand - just in English!” she said, frustratingly excited.
“Amazing. Language - words - dialect - vernaculars - they all change over time. Not surprised. What else?” said Harris.
“Sure. Why do some churches have more books in their canon than others? What’s up with the Apocrypha? Naw ahm sayin’ dog? Ya feel me?”
“You’re asking good questions,” said Harris. “You’ve done your homework. Good. But it sounds like you want to try to prove Christianity as some kind of hoax?”
“No, I think some of the moral codes are good. The ten commandments and the golden rule.”
“Great …”
“Certain concepts that Christianity proposes are good for some people. A lot of people, actually,” said Pippa, pausing for a moment. “I mean, love is good. I think love beats hate. I do believe in love after all.”
“Love beats apathy,” said Harris, taking a sip of iced tea. “Apathy is way worse than hate.”
“You think so?”
“I KNOW so,” said Harris, motioning to their waitress. “I’m more concerned over a man who doesn’t care about what happens in his life than someone who’s energy and focus is on retribution toward me. The guy who’s on a mission to destroy me? I can deal with his kind easier - you know - diffuse the situation - compared to the bum who doesn’t care about anything other than gratifying his immediate impulses. That person doesn’t care about any future legal proceedings he may be getting himself involved in. He doesn’t value much less show any respect toward police or laws in society.”
“Who exactly are you talking about?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“Yeah I guess. I’m just testing you is all.”
“I just assume not to deal with those kinds of people at all. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Amen to that,” laughed Pippa.
“Hey, politics aside, it all just goes to show that everyone’s got this sinful nature. I feel it myself - down in my gut. The only thing that can cleanse me of it is the blood of Jesus. Hi mamm, can I get a refill on my Dr. Pepper?”
“Sure thing buckaroo,” said the waitress.
“Thanks.”
Then on Sunday, he invited her to the new Greek Orthodox church he had been attending for about a month. It took some time to get her to go along with him, her being agnostic and all - but his persistence paid off.
When Harris was church shopping, he originally crossed off Greek Orthodox, thinking their priests couldn’t marry, but later finding out they could. That’s what ultimately kept him from Roman Catholicism - priests that never tie the knot.
Neither of them had a car, so they decided to walk. It was only about a mile and half, and the weather was alright.
“So do you drink bone broth or coffee at sunrise?” said Pippa, excited.
“Bone Broth,” laughed Harris. “It’s got more amino acids. Gentler on the stomach too,” he said, a very large study Bible under his arm.
“And,” she continued, “do you consume more local, state, or national news?”
“Another one of your surveys?” said Harris, walking briskly.
“No,” said Pippa, “just curious is all.”
“First thing?”
“First thing.”
Harris stopped dead in his tracks and said: “First thing is … I pray … is what,” nodding his head.
“...”
“Good,” said Pippa. “What about your commute to work?”
“What are you even talking about?” he said, pushing on.
“It's a question in this article… Do you turn on the country station or do you hum sacred hymns?”
“What? Yo that’s pretty personal stuff,” said Harris, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Right. Hey,” said Pippa, “did you check out this article called ‘Out to Pasture’ by Seeder? Dumb question. I saw you reading it earlier, so…”
“No,” interrupted Harris, “I didn’t. But I thought he passed away recently. Here … give me that,” he said, taking a very tattered Rancher’s Quarterly from Pippa’s hands.
“So tell me how the Lord has been working in your life,” said Pippa, as serious as ever.
“Well I started going to this church I’m taking you to. That’s gotta count for something - don’t you think?”
“Have you met anyone? I know you’re looking for the right girl.”
“Sure,” said Harris. “But I don’t think a good chunk of the people there like me very much. This guy I’ve known since I've been going didn’t even acknowledge me in Sunday school last week. Wouldn't even look at me. I never did nothing to him but be a real gentleman.”
“Well you’re a pretty odd guy,” said Pippa. “You’re anything but normal. He might think you’re some kind of sex pest, you know, considering what you’ve been through with Peachman and Lurpis.”
“I know. But I don’t think anyone at this place knows about my … uh …condition. Besides, I'm used to evil eyes of all kinds. God gave us His Word so we can tell the difference and act accordingly.”
“Hey I got a tough question for you Harris. As a follower of Christ, how do you justify glorifying sin in your prose?”
“You mean, is talking about it the same as wallowing in it?”
“Yeah I guess that’s what I’m driving at,” said Pippa.
“I could harangue all day on the subject - but I have to meet the sinner where they’re at. I need to entertain them with their own dark sense of humor or they won’t listen to what I ultimately have to say - what I’m ultimately driving at - that Jesus died for everyone. If they can understand some of what I’ve experienced before my conversion to Christianity, maybe something will click. That’s my prayer anyway. Jesus is for every race, every gender, every nationality, every peacemaker, and every offender. Everyone.”
Harris stopped dead in his tracks.
“Listen Pippa,” he said, “the world is full of unrepentant and extremely evil people. The worst of the worst run this planet, and probably future planets. Don’t you know that by now? I’m not saying I can reach them; by no means - only the Lord changes hearts. All I can hopefully do is plant the seed. God does the rest. We all need God’s gift of salvation.”
“You think?” said Pippa.
Again, Pippa was agnostic. She wasn’t sure what would happen in the afterlife, or even if there was one at all.
“Well,” she continued, “you make the message easy to understand. More than the Baptist pastor I knew when I was a kid growing up… I think everyone is searching for meaning in this cruel world. Even the laziest people on the planet are searching for a deeper meaning than just begging, working, eating, sleeping, talking, whatever.”
“Yeah,” said Harris. “Everyone is searching since we’re all going to die. The Holy Spirit convicts you when you’re screwing up, and gives you peace when you’re walking in the light. People know right from wrong whether they read the Bible or not. His laws are written on our hearts. And you’re really searching hard, Pippa. I can tell the Lord is working in your life. Keep it up. The more you reach out to Him, the more He’ll reach out to you.”
Harris was very serious about his new relationship with Christ. Recently, he had been doing a lot of research on all the different factions in Christianity and appreciated the formality and reverence one experiences at an Orthodox church. The Lord had softened Harris’ heart and gave him the will and purpose he needed to live right. He quit doing drugs and smoking cigarettes and started to really focus on studying God’s Word.
After everything he’d been through in life, he felt like he had a story to tell to the worst of the worst of humanity.
According to the Bible, the most vile offender can still get to heaven if they repent and turn from their sin. Repentance and following Christ was his new MO. It was his new mission to the world.
Harris also changed his stance on pornography. He used to think it was nothing but sex-ed, but now saw it as something that is very evil and sinful. He now believed the advent of free pornography and its accompanying vulgar hip hop glorifying it all over the internet with little to no age restriction was the main reason society had fallen as far as it had.
What happened to the beautiful real-estate in the heart of downtown Baltimore? Chicago? Los Angeles? NYC?
These types of things bothered Harris, and he was willing to put together a plan, and execute said plan to save his country before it bottomed out any further. “Some people build, some people destroy,” he thought. “I need a sizable group of Elite Human Capital - and pronto.”
“Well I’m glad we’re going,” said Pippa, “but I think just about any church would hate my guts.”
“You’re not the worst of the worst if that’s what you’re worried about,” laughed Harris, “I mean, we’ve all made mistakes in life, but Jesus accepts us where we’re at when we decide to turn our lives over to Him. Look, we don’t have to air out our dirty laundry to the congregation. For me, a lot of stuff in life is just between me and God.”
“That’s refreshing,” said Pippa. “But isn’t it just so easy for anyone to simply SAY they believe in Jesus and then go do whatever they want?”
“Yeah but those people aren’t making him Lord,” said Harris.
“...”
“That’s where the rubber meets the road, so to speak,” said Harris, opening the door for Pippa. “Only then can you walk in true peace and light, knowing you’ve dedicated your life to serving Christ and not your own carnal desires.”
“I don’t think I’m even remotely capable of that,” said Pippa. “The narrow path. Not yet.”
“It takes time for him to soften your heart. Take the apostle Paul for instance. His conversion didn’t happen overnight, but the Lord used him to help author a good portion of the New Testament later in life.”
Addison was still in purgatory at this stage of the game. The arctic white heat was practically indescribable. To attempt comparing it to any earthly experience would be a major waste of time - it was that extreme of an outer realm. Somehow she had gotten used to it and stopped screaming and crying.
While sitting in the plain white void, she had a lot of time to think to herself and purge all the wrongdoing she had committed while on earth. Having a cursory understanding of Catholic doctrine, she’d assumed eternal torment would be her fate.
But then, all of a sudden, two large flasks of Qorltainisrep appeared at her feet. She stared at them for what seemed to be about two minutes without saying a word. “What’s this?” she thought. “Some kind of Lewis Carroll fever dream? Oh well … down the hatch.”
After finishing the second bottle she was pretty intoxicated and yelled in a fit of rage: “What do you want me to do God!?” Her voice echoing into the void. “I killed myself,” she cried out. “Why didn’t You send me straight to hell?”
What Addison failed to realize is that she was in purgatory on a technicality. God had caused her heart to shut down right before she had tried hanging herself in her parent’s attic. He had other plans for her in the afterlife.
Several weeks later, Harris thought it was the right time to witness to Trent. They decided to meet up at the Gwaltnier Piano Bar and Grille. It was pretty busy and there was this woman in her fifties playing folk music on an acoustic guitar.
“So I’m saved now,” said Harris. “I’m done living in sin.”
“Do Lurpis and Peachman know?” said Trent, confused.
“How should I know?”
“Well who knows what they might plan on doing if they find out you’re trying to, let’s say, you know, go in a different direction in life. Oblique as it sounds. We ARE in public after all.”
“You think I haven’t considered all of that and worse?” said Harris. “See I’m big on repentance now. Not just for me, but for anyone who claims to be a follower of Christ. It’s one of the most critical components of genuine Christianity.”
“You gotta be sorry for what you did. But what do you really have to repent of? You haven’t hurt anyone - stolen anything …”
“Those are the obvious sins. I’m talking about sins of omission. Sins of the heart and mind. If I even look at a woman with lustful eyes, I’ve already committed adultery.
“Aren’t you being a little harsh on yourself?”
“It’s not about what I think,” said Harris, “It’s about what God’s Word says. Learn it. Apply it.”
“To me,” said Trent, “it sounds like you’re setting yourself up for failure. Nobody’s THAT religious.”
“It’s praying without ceasing - and you’re right - it’s not easy.”
“So do you want to become a pastor or priest or something?”
“Maybe. If that’s where the Lord leads me.”
“It’s funny, you used to be down with the devil.”
“Well yeah,” said Harris. “but Satanism ain’t my bag anymore. Let’s talk about law and order. I think we need a good dose of it these days. Some people are running around out there like wild animals - menaces to society. China and Japan? They’re eating our lunch.”
“I know who you’re talking about”
“You do?” said Harris
“Yeah. You should get into politics.”
“I think I might.”
“Good,” said Trent. “But as for Satan? I still love the guy,” he laughed.
“I don’t recommend it. Your eternal soul is at stake here. I don’t even understand Satanism anymore - since Jesus came into my heart. It all just seems so silly, but it’s deadly serious. Like I said, I don’t get it - to the extent that you have to believe in God and the Bible to even believe in the existence of Satan. Oh they’ll tell you they are atheist or agnostic; then why do you need to do all those animal sacrifices and seances and rituals with pentagrams and candles on the floor? It doesn’t match up with their claims of thinking we’re here from the Big Bang or something. But everyone worships something or someone. Hey, whoever brewed this pot of coffee should be fired. This is terrible. I’m gonna go get something else. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Do your thing,” said Trent, pulling out an old copy of The Ranchers Quarterly.
Harris made his way back into the very long line that had now formed, the piano player doing a jazzy rendition of “Arthur’s Theme” by Christopher Cross, a young waitress dropping a plate of macaroon cookies on the floor, swearing under her breath.
After a few moments, Harris approached the cashier and said: “This coffee is not good at all … very weak.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “Can I get you something else?”
“Sure,” said Harris. “I’ll take a quad shot Americano with room. Thanks.”
“OK,” said the waitress, smiling.
Just then, the front door opened and in walked Chris Trellot and Mrs. Kin Joiners. Chris being fully aware of Harris’ recent conversion to Christianity… but Joiners? She was still in the dark about it.
“Hey man,”said Chris, loosening his neck tie. “I thought you were banned from this place.”
“Who - me?” smiled Harris. “You must be thinking of my evil twin. Personally, I need to track the guy down myself. Seen him lately?”
“No,” said Mrs. Kin Joiners. “But more importantly, does your doctor know you’re here? Tubular!” she said, snapping her fingers loudly.
“I’m sorry,” said Harris, genuinely confused. “You are?”
“Chris,” she said, “get on the horn with Lane. Tell him we have everything under control.”
Chris Trellot nodded, walking toward the bathroom, dialing Dr. Lane Peachman.
“You’re coming with us,” said Joiners. “TUBULAR!” she shouted, snapping her fingers even more loudly.
“Oh yeah?” said Harris casually, sipping his Americano. “Where to?”
“Another time and another place,” said Joiners, “we’re not done with you yet.”
Mrs. Kin Joiners pulled out her phone and showed Harris the Corpse Request Hyperflash in action, thinking it might jar some memories.
“You still owe us one - for lack of better words.” She glanced over to Chris, giving him a thumbs up. “Is that your friend Trent? We’ve been looking for him too. Come on … let’s all take a ride.”
“I don’t think so mamm. I don’t do chaos anymore. I like law and order. You and your cohorts offer me none of that.”
“OK well we’re not forcing you to do anything against your will,” said Mrs Kin Joiners. “Just wondering who you’re gonna call for maintenance. That’s all.”
Harris didn’t know what to say. He thought long and hard for what seemed like 20 seconds. Then Trellot returned and walked outside with Mrs Kin Joiners - giving up on bringing Harris and Trent back to their compound - AKA “The Bum Resort.
“Well I guess we’re done here,” said Harris.
“For now,” said Mrs Kin Joiners.
“Let’s split,” said Harris, motioning to Trent.
“Yeah,” said Trent, “I guess the power of Christ compels her?” he laughed.
Harris and Trent walked away from the situation. Trellot and Mrs Kin Joiners didn’t want to make a scene.
Still, everyone wanted in on the action. This was a person’s chance to relive a version of their past with someone else. A past that never existed in this dimension anyway. On an earthly time-scale, these sessions would usually last around 10-20 minutes, but feeling more like several hours while connected to the device.
The Bum Resort was filled to capacity. Dr Lane Peachman and Todd Lurpis PHD - being the evil geniuses they were - had very high retention rates of clients that were - shall we say - committed to the program.
Still, they felt as though they were owed a life of gratitude from Harris and Trent. Harris and Trent felt otherwise, and wanted to stay as far away from the compound as possible.
Fenton Wilkerton and April Olanza had been a couple for three years now. Most people would consider him to be a dead-beat boyfriend, but he didn’t care - that’s just the kind of guy he was.
April was the sole breadwinner. She had quit her marketing position at TrayCorp and was looking to simplify things. She started working as a deli manager at their local grocery store just a few miles up the street from their apartment.