I am like a man balancing upon a precipice. Within hours I am to be face to face with this Supervisor. My stomach flutters, and I want to be sick. Since the Harrowing and Cleansing, this is the first real trial.
The universe expects me to look into a demon’s eyes, and not quail. I am the warrior who must face down evil, ignore its lies and deceit. She cannot see so much as a flicker of weakness, or know the churning anxiety gripping my heart.
I must be invincible. A pillar of belief. Any doubt has to be discarded as a distraction given the great responsibility now looming before me.
“Faith fills the hollows of the soul,” Callista whispers. She lies on her bed, curled in a fetal position. Her spasming fingers flutter where they’re positioned before her mouth. She’s a frail thing, little more than a living skeleton, but today the universe has left her coherent. I assume for my benefit.
“Faith fills the hollows of the soul,” I repeat, taking strength from her words.
The anxiety and uncertainty fade.
The other two Prophets, Irdan and Guan Shi, blink vacant eyes, their lips moving soundlessly.
At that moment First Will Petre enters the Temple. He glances uneasily at me. In his hands he carries two containers. One filled with white paste, the other, smaller, with a charcoal-black concoction made from burned cloth.
“They’re ready,” Petre says.
He places the containers beside the box of jewelry and the blue makeup I keep for my third eye.
“The com device?”
“Inserted through the hole they drilled in the main hatch. As you ordered, I’ve had your throne carried into the corridor.”
I swallow hard, clench my teeth. Petre cannot be allowed to see so much as a crack in my armor. “Send me Svetlana.”
He inclines his head and steps out.
“The true life whispers in the flesh,” Callista murmurs. “Like leaves in a wind. Whispers . . . around in a bowl they go.”
I take a deep breath.
Svetlana, my second wife, steps in; her light brown hair is pulled back, her dark eyes wary.
I untie my waist wrapping and let it fall so that I am naked. “Prepare me.”
She steps forward. “How, Messiah?”
“This Supervisor, she’s the embodiment of evil. She’s everything the universe calls on us to defeat. Irdan told me, ‘Go forth in white.’”
“In white?”
I point at the container. “White is the color of good, symbolic of purity.” I raise my arms. “It will be my armor. Paint it all over me.”
“You’re facing her naked?”
“She will be dressed in finery. Is there any more powerful way to emphasize our differences? I go naked before her, a mark of ultimate humility. Representative of the fact that I am clad only in truth.”
Svetlana uses her fingers, rubbing the white paste onto the patterns of scars and over my skin.
When she is finished, I indicate the small jar filled with black grease. “For my eyes and lips. I want this woman to see a living skull. To know that we are the living dead. That I am not facing her alone, but as the repository of all the souls and bodies inside mine.”
Svetlana’s expression remains grim as she attends to my eyes and lips. I even let her blacken my teeth to enhance the effect.
As she paints, I feel the righteous strength of Revelation swelling within me. I begin to pulse with the universe. One with its purpose.
She finishes by painting the eye in my forehead in bright blue.
When I face her, I see a startled look. A hesitation, and she bows before me, obviously upset.
“Wife?” I ask.
“You are someone else,” she whispers. “What next, Messiah?”
“The jewelry,” I tell her. “I want to wear as much as I can. The emblems of the dead. Actual mementos of the lives for which we are responsible. The rings, necklaces, and bracelets are the physical presence of those for whom I speak.”
I inhale as I feel the dead pulse within me.
As I begin to don the jewelry, it is as if each piece burns against my flesh.
“Yes!” Guan Shi cries from her bed. Her eyes—sharp for once and seeing this world—focus on the polished gold and silver. “Today . . . rises . . . the glory . . . all the sunshine . . .”
Finally I am done.
The universe fills me.
“Let us go and engage the enemy,” I say jauntily.
But down deep, I pray I am good enough, strong enough, to carry this off.
Believe, Messiah. You must believe!