Part I of post -- Welcome to Kiyonis

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Date Posted: 00:12:52 09/06/01 Thu
Author: High Voice and Trevor Deoge
Subject: Part I of post

They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
For trying to change the system from within
I'm coming now I'm coming to reward them
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

--Leonard Cohen, "First We Take Manhattan"

Trevor Deoge is nervous. Okay, maybe he's more than a little nervous. Left to his own devices, he'd be a shaking, quivering mess on the elegant cathedral floor. But when the High Voice calls you, you come. And the High Voice has called him. And so Trevor finds himself following a young female priest up a flight of stairs that seems to go on forever (perhaps intentionally so). And then, all at once, they have finished their long climb and Trevor and the priest woman are standing in front of a door. The priest raises her hand and knocks.

"Enter, my children" The voice is piercing, but slightly comforting. It shows a belief that everything the speaker is doing and saying reflects the greater good, regardless of how minute it may be.

The High Voice waits for the door to open with his usual knowing patience.

The door squeaks slightly as it opens, surprising Trevor slightly. Surely someone as gifted and influential as the High Voice can afford to have the hinges of his door oiled. Of course, a creaking door gives ample evidence of when someone is coming or going.

"Trevor Christian Deoge, as you requested, sir," the female priest says in slightly clipped tones.

The canine morph is slightly startled. He doesn't recall giving anyone here his middle name; in fact, he hardly uses it himself.

The High Voice nods to the female priest, "Thank you, my child. You may depart now and attend your duties."

He then turns to Trevor, gazing at him in a way that seems to pierce into every aspect of him, and encompass everything beyond.

"Take a seat, child."

The female priest bows deeply and scurries out of the room, perhaps with a little too much haste. Trevor swallows thickly and does as he is told, selecting a seat some distance away from the High Voice and sitting carefully down, as if afraid that the chair will split apart beneath him and send him spilling onto the floor.

The High Voice waits for the female priest to close the door behind her, anticipating the solid click. Not once does he take his eyes off Trevor. He then begins to speak.

"Trevor, my son," considering the nature of the discussion about to take place, he switches to a slightly less distancing appellation, specifically his name. "You...have a future, in this organization. A great future."

He stops for a moment to study Trevor's reaction.

"I--I do?" Trevor replies stupidly. At least he doesn't sound as twitchy as he feels. Realizing that such a compliment from the High Voice requires a thank you, he continues with, "Um. Thank you. Sir. I'm. Um. Greatly honored. Sir."

The High Voice nods slightly, and to the intent observer, what may be the first inklings of a smile appear caress his lips. They are gone in an instant though, if they ever were there.

"Yes, you have great...zeal." He pauses again, very deliberately, then continues, "Yourself, and others, may think of you as being unready, unworthy..."

He allows that last sentence to hang in the air a bit. He starts again before Trevor can make any kind of response, "I, however, know that you are among those who are...the truest, to our divine path. That you keep the most faith...even though no others may see it yet."

Trevor fidgets slightly in the chair, his tail jerking back and forth. He can't think of anything to say. This is really too much. He's been ordained for only a few days! "I. Um. Thank you, sir. I'm really--really not worthy." He ducks his head, sure that he'd be as red as a well-cooked lobster if he were human. Only now does he begin to wonder why the High Voice summoned him here. Surely it wasn't just to flatter him.

With High Voice stands and, somewhat unexpectedly, performs the Blessing. Then, almost suddenly, a certain sadness overcomes his features. Though, it, like all his other emotions, is barely noticeable.

"Come my child, walk with me. There is something that you must see." says the High Voice, and though he is clearly addressing Trevor, he seems to be talking more to himself than any other.

Trevor nearly jumps out of his fur, but controls himself admirably and sits still through the rest of the Blessing. Heart thumping, (for he's just been Blessed by the High Voice, no other), he stands, nearly tripping over his robes as he does so. "Of--of course, sir! Anywhereyou'dlike, sir." He doesn't ask questions. You don't ask questions of the High Voice. Questions are beneath him. Besides, you might not like the answer.

The High Voice steps out the door to his chambers leaving it for Trevor to close. He does not bother to check behind him to make sure Trevor is following. They walk down and through the many passages and halls and chambers of the great structure. Places that would normally be guarded or brimming with people are deserted.

Nothing is to impede the movement of the High Voice.

After a few minutes of walking the High Voice begins to speak in a way that seems to be recitation, but is in fact extemporaneous: "In the beginning, the Transcendent One dreamt of creatures. He dreamt of plants, of animals. Of fish in the water, and birds in the air. And he dreamt of man, of elves, of the mixed breeds. Of all the higher races. And lo, the Transcendent One awoke from his dream, and from his dream and thoughts were created all that is living. From his dream came the animals and plants; the fish and the birds. And these creatures were given to Nature, for her to govern. And from the Transcendent One's dream came the men and elves and mixed breeds and all the other high races. And they were the Transcendent One's alone, and they were perfect. And the Transcendent One declared that they would rule the planet he had created for them. And they lived and prospered. Soon, however, Nature became jealous of the High Races, and began to corrupt them, defiling the Transcendent One's vision. And the Transcendent One could do naught but watch, as Nature destroyed his dreams and thoughts. And the High Races began to doubt the Transcendent One, and eventually, forget he ever was there, guiding them."

The High Voice pauses, again overcome with sadness. It seems that he should also be bitter, but he is not, and he continues.

"And then the Transcendent One gave unto the High Races one last gift." The High Voice fills with excitement. "Technology! A way that the high races might one day purge the evil of Nature from their bodies, and in so doing restore the Transcendent One to it's former glory!"

The High Voice turns to Trevor, his eyes a frighteningly alive, his zeal and faith shaking the walls around them. "And, my son, that day is soon upon us! And you will join us in helping the world be free!"

The speech seems to have ended, and apparently their walk, as they have stopped before two great doors. "This is the future, my son!"

And the doors slide open, revealing the horrors within.

Trevor has heard this story before; indeed, those who attend the Church, the believers, have all heard the story of the Dreaming, of the Creation before. But the way the High Voice speaks makes the story seem fresh and new again, and he listens, wide-eyed, the way he did when he was younger and the Church had first come to bring their enlightenment to the sad, fractured society of Kiyonis.

But the part about technology is new to him. No priest at the pulpit had ever said anything about the Higher Races using technology to cleanse themselves, only that they must repair the error of their ways and find the Transcendent One again. But if the High Voice said it was so, then it must surely be so.

Then the doors opened, and Trevor finds himself unable to say anything at all.

People. In jars. Rows upon rows upon rows of glass and metal canisters, lined up against both walls. The walls turn corners, and there are more lined against those as well. They are embedded at an angle so that the men and women walking importantly around can easily look into each face underneath the glass, and names and serial numbers are inscribed at the top of each. The people inside are floating slightly in some kind of greenish-yellow fluid, brainjacks noded to their temples, and they look. . . peaceful. Even happy. The room is full of the hum of machinery, the low murmur of the scientist-priests conversing, and, on occasion, the slight sucking sound of fluid being pumped in and out.

Trevor gapes like a landed fish for a few moments. Finding himself unable to ask a simple question, he looks up at the High Voice with eyes belonging to a much younger self, begging for an answer. The workers look up, absorb his appearance for several moments, and go back to their business.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of Heaven, you can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowin' come the Judgment Day
On the bloody morning after, one tin soldier rides away

--"One Tin Soldier"

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