Pyramid Schemes, Page 3

  much too cold blooded an ending for a nerveless fool like me. Poison likewise held no attraction for me. I had no desire to pass away

  with some manner of toxin eating its way through my innards. On the other hand, collapsing in the desert, slipping into a

  dehydrated coma and dying…that was something I could live with.

  I had heard tell that one’s life tends to pass before one’s eyes during

  the dying moments. I certainly hoped that would not be the case

  for me. Existing once was hellish enough. Being forced to relive it

  was far too much punishment for any mortal man, even when he

  was a sinner such as me.

  There was no path through the desert, of course. No one would

  be mad enough to build one because no one would be insane

  enough to try and cross it. I had no clue what waited on the other

  side, nor did I think about it overmuch since I was not counting on

  being able to make the trip.

  Had I truly been thinking about making it across, I would have

  waited for the evening to leave. The wise man trekking the desert

  does so at night and finds somewhere to slumber during the day,

  at least as best he can. But the concept of doing things correctly

  held no interest for me. I was anxious to leave Giro behind and,

  honestly, my life as well although I was not truly thinking about

  that at the time.

  I wore sandals upon my feet rather than my boots since I reasoned that I would be far less likely to wind up with sand inside

  them. I was determined to be attired as lightly as possible considering the heat that hung upon me like a blanket.

  People seem to think that a desert consists of shifting sands,

  and I’m certain there are some that fit that description. That was

  not, however, the sort of desert that I was striding upon now, or at

  least attempting to do what passes for striding when I walk. Instead

  the land was flat and arid, the ground cracked beneath my feet.

  It was as if once upon a time, there might have been something

  capable of growing that could have supplied food. Now, though,

  there was nothing save for random bits of shrubbery here and there.

  Bushes, the occasional small stubbly tree without leaves. I saw no

  manner of what they called “oasis” anywhere nearby. That was fine.

  As I said, I had water to last me for a bit, so I would have no need

  of it immediately.

  I walked across the desert, my mind wandering aimlessly and

  yet always drawn back to the same point. No matter how much

  I tried to leave the sight behind me, I kept picturing the death of

  the helpless child. By extension, I also considered the slave status

  of the Shews. I could not imagine an entire people being pressed

  into slavery. I was no fool; I knew that slavery existed in the world.

  People were routinely captured and sold into it: free people whose

  freedom was stolen from them. It happened. But a whole race? That

  did not seem right to me somehow. I wondered about the origins

  of their condition, to have been enslaved and then kept in that

  position for who-knew-how-long? Granted, it was not my concern.

  I was not a Shew, not a slave, and so their plight was not directly

  related to anything in my life.

  Still…it was wrong.

  What do you care? It isn’t your problem.

  Which it was not. My inner voice was absolutely correct. Then my thoughts wandered to the Rama. What reason would

  he possibly have for requiring the death of all first-born male Shews?

  It made no sense.

  At which point the answer immediately presented itself to

  me. This had the makings of a prophecy. Some idiot at some

  point must have made some manner of prediction. Probably it

  was something along the lines of that the first-born son of a Shew would do something that the Rama would dislike. Perhaps he would be responsible for the Rama’s death. Or maybe he would free the Shews from their slavery. Perhaps he would wed the Rama’s sister. Who knew? No matter what it was, it was obviously something that the Rama did not want to see transpire. Considering that he was willing to slaughter however many innocent children he could find to pursue his goal, he obviously didn’t

  want to see it a lot.

  Something unusual began to build in the pit of my stomach

  with such ferocity that I was honestly not paying the slightest bit of

  attention to the heat that was hammering down upon me. It took

  me a few minutes to realize what it was: it was anger. I was actually

  angry at the situation in which the Shews were obviously trapped.

  Granted, it was not my problem…

  …but maybe it should be.

  Shut up, my inner voice railed at me. Are you out of your mind?

  You are no hero. Their problems are not your concern. Besides, what

  will you do? Go before the Rama and demand that he release the slaves?

  You will wind up being executed and they will still be slaves. It is a

  complete waste of time and you must eliminate all such concerns from

  your mind immediately. Is that understood?

  Slowly, reluctantly, I had to admit that my inner voice was absolutely correct. Being a hero had never sat well with me. Twenty years

  ago I had endeavored to undertake the role of hero by attacking a

  young man who had never attempted to be anything other than

  friends with me. I had seized control of his heroic quest and the

  results had been less than stellar. The endeavor had solidly taught

  me a lesson about what happened when I, Apropos of Nothing, little

  more than a side character, a humorous bit of occasional comedy

  relief, tried to take the reins and steer the heroic endeavors toward an

  equally heroic denouement. The result was never positive. So although the plight of the Shews was regrettable, the fact was

  that it was not within my limited abilities to do anything about it. I kept walking.

  Determined not to wander aimlessly, I unrolled a small map that I had purchased from the navigator upon the ship that had brought me here. It was not remarkably detailed. Giro was clearly labeled, and there were several spots in particular that were specified, such as the palace of the Rama. The desert where I was walk

  ing was much less detailed.

  I did notice one place that was marked as Mount Uneks and the

  word “oasis” was clearly delineated. As near as I could determine, I

  was heading in that direction, and so I simply kept walking. As time passed and the heat of the day increased, I slowly

  became aware of just how intense the sun was. I kept my cloak

  wrapped around me but now I was starting to feel as if I was suffocating within it. The alternative, though, was to lower the hood

  and let the sun beat down upon my bare head. I would likely pass

  out in no time. So I kept walking with the shielding from the sun

  providing me some measure of protection.

  Soon I spotted Mount Uneks. It was not terribly far in the

  distance and I was reasonably sure I could make it there before I

  tumbled into unconsciousness. From where I was, I could even see

  the oasis that was situated at the base. It was actually quite pleasant

  looking, considering it was in the middle of a desert. With renewed

  determination I made my way toward it.

  The closer I got, however, the more I started to notice something, and it caused my heart to sink. Some fool, or perhaps a malicious bastard, had
set the oasis on fire. I dismissed out of hand the

  idea that perhaps the sun had done it. This was definitely the hand

  of some fire-setting monster who had, for some deep-seated idiotic

  reason, decided they wanted to burn down one of the few areas of

  vegetation in the desert.

  I hurried as quickly as my lame leg would allow me. I reasoned

  that the flames would spread rapidly and could conceivably poison

  whatever water was there. Fill it with smoke and ash and make it

  undrinkable.

  But then I saw something that made no sense to me. The flame

  was contained to what seemed to be a single large bush. None of

  the surrounding area was catching fire. How could that possibly be? It was fire’s nature to spread as fast as it could. What was keep

  ing it in one place?

  I had been running, or at least running as best as I was capable—more akin to accelerated limping—but now I slowed down

  and studied the burning bush. My first impression was correct. It

  was burning, but it wasn’t. It was fully intact.

  “How—?” I whispered to myself.

  And then, as if in answer, a voice bellowed at me, “REMOVE

  YOUR SHOES, FOR YOU ARE ON HOLY GROUND.” I stared, uncomprehending. “What?”

  “REMOVE YOUR SHOES, FOR YOU ARE ON HOLY

  GROUND.”

  Very slowly I approached the bush, still not understanding. But

  I knew one thing. I had no intention of going barefoot. “I’m not

  removing anything. The ground is hot. It’s been baking under the

  sun. I’ll burn my feet.”

  “YOU DISOBEY ME?”

  “I don’t want to burn my feet, okay? Do you have a problem

  with that? Do you want me to be in pain? What sort of sadistic

  bastard are you? For that matter, where are you hiding? Behind the

  bush?”

  “I AM THE BUSH.”

  “You’re a talking bush? That makes no sense at all. What kind

  of bush talks? You’re vegetation! Seriously, where are you really?” The bush actually emitted an annoyed sigh. “I AM THE

  LORD, YOUR GOD.”

  “You’re my what now?”

  “THE LORD. YOUR GOD.”

  I digested that for a moment. I was quite sure by this point that

  this was a magic weaver of some manner who was indulging in a

  strange, elaborate prank. But I decided to play along with him.

  “The lord, my God?”

  “YES.”

  “To be truthful, I really don’t have much truck with gods.

  They’ve never answered my prayers in all my years. Honestly, they seem to exist mainly to torment the poor mortals who walk the world. So if you’re looking for me to worship you or something,

  then I’m afraid you have a problem.”

  The bush appeared to consider that. “THIS IS NOT GOING

  THE WAY THAT I HAD ANTICIPATED,” it finally said. “I don’t see how that’s my problem. Now if you’ll excuse me,

  I’m just going to fill up my pouch with water and be on my way. So

  this has been really entertaining, but I’m going to—”

  At that moment a lightning bolt ripped down from overhead.

  It struck the ground three feet away from me with such force that

  the sand was instantly transformed into smoking glass. I stared at it and then turned back to the bush. “Or we could

  continue to converse.”

  “YOU HAVE COMMITTED A GRAVE OFFENSE THIS

  DAY, APROPOS,” it said. That startled me because I knew I had

  not introduced myself. It wasn’t my custom to give my name to

  inanimate objects. It continued, “IT IS MY DESIRE TO FREE

  THE SHEWS OF THEIR BONDAGE IN ROGYPT. I HAD

  SOMEONE PLANNED TO BE THEIR LIBERATOR. TO

  SPEAK ON MY BEHALF, TO GO TO THE RAMA AND

  DEMAND THAT HE LET MY PEOPLE GO.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “SO HE DIED IN YOUR PRESENCE TODAY.” It took me a few moments to understand what the voice was

  referring to, but then I did. “The baby? He was supposed to be their

  savior?”

  “YES. THE PRINCESS WOULD HAVE FOUND HIM,

  RAISED HIM. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN PART OF THE

  RAMA’S COURT. HE WOULD HAVE LEARNED, GROWN,

  AND BECOME THE LEADER THAT IS REQUIRED TO

  FREE THE SHEWS. AND NOW THAT WILL NEVER

  HAPPEN.”

  “But if you’re a god, can’t you raise him from the dead or something?”

  “I AM NOT A GOD. I AM THE GOD. AND I AM NOT THAT SORT OF GOD. WHAT HAPPENS IS WHAT HAP

  PENS, BECAUSE OF FREE WILL.”

  “Yes, well, free will isn’t exactly the best idea you ever had. So

  what now?”

  “SO THE SHEWS NEED SOMEONE TO FREE THEM.

  YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATH OF THEIR

  SAVIOR. THEREFORE, YOU MUST UNDERTAKE HIS

  BURDEN.”

  “Excuse me? I’m supposed to do what now?”

  “FREE THE SHEWS.”

  “And how exactly am I going to do that?”

  “YOU WILL GO TO THE RAMA AND SAY THAT I,

  THE LORD GOD, COMMAND HIM TO LET MY PEOPLE

  GO.”

  “And are you going to be there with me?”

  “YES.”

  “In person?”

  “NO. I DO NOT DO PERSONAL APPEARANCES.” “Well, then, hell, how am I supposed to convince him?! Tell

  him he has to listen to me because some flaming shrubbery told

  me so?”

  “TELL THE LEADERS OF THE SHEWS. GET THEM

  TO BELIEVE IN YOU. THEN CONFRONT THE RAMA.

  YOU ARE PERFORMING AN ACT OF GOD.”

  “Which god?” I said in frustration. “I mean, I’m still not one

  hundred percent sure I don’t believe there’s someone throwing his

  voice. What is your name?”

  “I AM WHAT I AM.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “YOU CANNOT KNOW MY NAME.”

  “Why not? Is it a secret? Why would it be a secret? What kind

  of god keeps his name a secret?”

  “JUST TELL THEM YOU HAVE SPOKEN TO ME,

  THEIR LORD AND GOD.”

  “But I don’t know which god you are!”

  He was beginning to sound impatient. “I AM THE ONE

  TRUE GOD. THERE ARE NO GODS BEFORE ME.” “There are plenty of gods before you! I’ve heard of a couple

  dozen! In different countries all over the world! And they all have

  their own origins and names and all sorts of things, and you won’t

  even tell me—”

  “BOB,” God told me. “MY NAME IS BOB. ALL RIGHT?” I frowned at that. “Bob? What a strange name. I’ve never heard

  of anyone named Bob. I mean, it’s barely a sound, much less a

  name.”

  “YOU WANTED TO KNOW MY NAME. IT’S BOB.

  SOMEDAY IT’S GOING TO BE V ERY POPUL A R . H A PPY ?” “Are you sure,” I said suspiciously, “that you’re not just telling

  me that to get me to stop asking?”

  At which point a second bolt of lightning erupted from on

  high and struck the ground directly between my feet. I stumbled

  backwards and fell, staring upward. “Fine. It’s Bob,” I said quickly.

  “Your name is Bob. I’m completely in agreement with that.” “GO AND FREE THE SHEWS.”

  “I still don’t know how.”

  “FIGURE IT OUT OR THE NEXT LIGHTNING BOLT

  WON’T MISS.”

  “Understood.”

  The burning bush immediately snuffed out. The leaves and

  branches were completely undamaged.

  At that po
int I still had no idea of how to react. The weaver

  theory still seemed a viable one, but the notion that there was genuinely some manner of sky god who had targeted me to do His work

  for Him seemed a fully viable option.

  So now I had to go and free the Shews.

  Or get electrocuted from on high.

  No problem.

  Chapter 2 Holiday Inn

  Many people have been amused by me, and I have never entirely understood why. Yes, yes, I know, my name is unusual. Even unique. I, however, did not name myself, and instead have spent the entirety of my existence learning to tolerate the name that my mother hung upon me when I was far too young to have anything to say about it. As a result my name has caused great merriment amongst many who apparently desperately seek something to be diverted by. I have never comprehended it, but that is the long and short of it.

  Furthermore I suspect that some will be equally entertained by the details of my life as I have written them in these journals. Again, it is strange. As I mentioned, thousands have died by my hand. I have caused more destruction than most warlords who are in a constant state of combat. Yet people will likely ignore the destruction that I have caused because of my name, or the selfserving, cowardly steps I take to achieve my goals. No hero am I, but simply a fool lucky to be alive.

  Upon consideration of the events that transpired in Rogypt, though, I find myself wondering what manner of rational individual could find any of them the slightest bit entertaining or amusing. People died, came back to life, tried to kill me and nearly succeeded. Promises were made and betrayed, and in many ways, nothing remotely funny happened. Yet I am sure that will not deter some from finding the matters of which I will tell you to be funny.

  For my part, at the time I was not remotely dwelling upon humorous aspects of the situation, whether existent or non-existent. Instead my concerns were with the fact that apparently some unseen deity named Bob had chosen me to free the Shews because I was accidentally responsible for the demise of the intended savior. The question was, How to go about it? Bob had unfortunately not been forthcoming with a vast number of details other than that I should present myself to the Shews and perhaps form an alliance. Unfortunately I had not the slightest idea how to accomplish that.

  I had ceased moving forward through the desert. Obviously I was going to have to return to Giro; there was no choice about it since I had no desire to be blown into nonexistence by a lightning bolt. So that meant retracing my steps. Since I was no longer driven by the sense of vague urgency that had been propelling me away, I did not feel the need to combat the relentless sun. Instead I dropped under a tree to provide some shade, wrapped myself in my cloak to provide further protection against the sun’s rays, and drifted to sleep.