by Sean Padlo
The existence of spirits and an afterlife was a matter of lively discussion for millennia. As the advent and proliferation of the sciences grew in size and scope, the evidence of such things was relegated to blurry photos and out-of-focus video. The existence debate was muddied even further by deliberate manipulation of those images and video clips, and of questionable audio captures, both by recorded conversations with “entities” and by the listening within the spaces of purposeful white noise. Jacob believed religion to be the cause of the division between the concretion of science and the assertion of belief. That divide spread wide caused everything from the split of families to never-ending war.
Art by Bonita Barlow
The existence of spirits and an afterlife was a matter of lively discussion for millennia. As the advent and proliferation of the sciences grew in size and scope, the evidence of such things was relegated to blurry photos and out-of-focus video. The existence debate was muddied even further by deliberate manipulation of those images and video clips, and of questionable audio captures, both by recorded conversations with “entities” and by the listening within the spaces of purposeful white noise. Jacob believed religion to be the cause of the division between the concretion of science and the assertion of belief. That divide spread wide caused everything from the split of families to never-ending war.
Jacob sat on a bench outside the back entrance and looked directly into the video camera mounted above a metallic doorway that bled fresh rust. The main entrance was adorned with Angels and Gargoyles, alternating positions as one made their way inside. To each side of the main doors were the names of the “connected departed.” This place pulled out all the stops when it came to services and amenities. Other start-ups like this around the world fell short on safety as well as coming up even shorter on services. Charlatans could acquire an International Permit by doing nothing more than greasing the right palm. The whole system was in disarray, but it kept Jacob working regularly.
His job was to extract spirits from the unwillingly possessed. Instead of going over his credentials with every possible employer, his business card simply read: Exorcism Services. Of course, his religious studies, academic degrees, and exorcism accomplishments were listed on his website, but no longer included at the bottom of every card. Jacob had been at this so long that his success had finally begun to precede him, making such self-promotion unnecessary.
Feedback burst from a speaker hidden somewhere near the door. “Jacob Morningstar?” Jacob nodded toward the video camera. “I’m William Nash, facility and operations manager. I apologize for my lateness, but this whole thing has been a nightmare for us. A nightmare for us, for the board—”
Jacob interrupted. “And for the boy.”
“Yes. Oh, of course! And for the boy!” After a short, awkward pause, Nash continued, “I’ll be up to meet you shortly,” an abrupt feedback whistle followed, then nothing.
Solid, irrefutable evidence of the existence of the disembodied came through a well-televised case. David Galen was accused of having murdered his wife, Ellen, with the defense making a wild claim: “innocent by possession.” That’s when the case made the news. Witnesses to the event claimed that Galen rose up from the stand and hovered there, tumbling and performing acrobatic feats without a net. Much like the performance of the child, minus the impressive wings. That must have cost extra, Jacob thought.
Galen was found innocent during the ensuing chaos, and the judge ordered an exorcism. That was the watershed moment, Jacob reflected, when the shit hit the proverbial fan. Galen’s possessor objected, claimed he was summoned by Galen himself to perform the execution of the wife, due to the fact that Galen himself was “too much of a bitch to do it himself.”
The judge repeated his decision, and Galen’s possessor objected. The spirit, still in possession of Galen, floated up once more, bowed to the people in the gallery, turned to the judge, winked, and folded Galen in half before freeing itself from the now very dead Galen—whose body dropped with unimaginable finality.
The metal door screeched open, snatching Jacob from his thoughts. He stood as Nash squeezed himself sideways through the doorway, hesitating momentarily to catch his breath, straighten his clothes, and attempt to brush away wrinkles that were quite likely permanent. To Jacob, Nash looked all of five feet, tall and round. Nash wiped a chubby hand off on his red Ringmaster top coat and adjusted his top hat before extending the not-quite-unmoist hand to Jacob.
Jacob took it, shook it, and let go. “Ah. Mr. Nash.”
A realization about Jacob seemed to flash brightly in the stout man’s eyes and slipped beneath his jovial expression, as Nash took an unconscious step backward. Just as suddenly, it was gone and the mask was back up. He hooked his thumbs under his rainbow-colored suspenders and cleared his throat.
“Are you all right, Mr. Nash?” Jacob reached out to steady the man, but Nash cringed from his reach.
Nash cleared his throat again, tugging at his too-tight collar with a finger. “Yes! I mean, this is all part of the, uh, spectacle. But I feel I should apologize. This,” Nash gestured to his wardrobe, “doesn’t properly reflect the seriousness of the matter.”
Jacob gestured them onward. “Let us make our way to the boy, then.”
Nash led the way, squeezing back through the doorway. “As you may be aware, we have no elevators. In fact, most equipment here is manually controlled.” He waited for Jacob to enter, shutting and bolting the door behind them before continuing on. “Non-corporeals have a deleterious effect on electrical devices. I’m afraid we have a long stairwell down to the old barracks.”
Jacob followed Nash, who stopped at the top of the stairs. Jacob leaned over the inside edge and looked down. “Long spiral stairwell.”
Nash nodded and led the way. Jacob took note of the wards along the walls as the men descended, unconsciously identifying them aloud as they passed. “Enochian…Angelic…Latin. Sigils, symbols. Religious mostly.”
“Oh my, yes! Religion and science! Church and state!” Nash noticed that the sigils and wards emitted a faint glow as Jacob passed them. “Mister…Morningstar, isn’t it? The wards appear to be reacting to your proximity. Not like they do when the ephemerals attempt to pass,” Nash stopped and examined Jacob’s face, “but they are reacting just the same.”
Jacob shrugged. “I have carved protections into my flesh.” He rolled up his left sleeve, displaying symbols etched and burned into his forearm, then pulled his collar aside to show tattoos, on his neck and along his collarbone. “I have branded myself with wards,” he unbuttoned then tugged his shirt out of his jeans and raised his chest high, revealing complex, overlapping designs all along his torso, wrapping around to his back. Scars, tattoos, and what appeared to be a form of etchings that entirely covered his abdomen, disappearing beneath his waistline. The designs upon his skin glowed warmly as if backlit. He waited until Nash was satisfied before re-buttoning and re-tucking where necessary. “I have them all over my body. I require the strongest protections in this line of business, and it makes my job much easier by not requiring the extra time to assemble wards and sigils before doing my work.”
“Oh yes, I can understand completely!” Nash was nodding like a short, pudgy little bobble-head, shifting his weight back and forth, from one foot to the other, then back again.
Jacob snapped his fingers. “And the other question you’ve been holding against the tip of your tongue—?”
Nash glanced away, his cheeks suddenly flushed a deep red. The man began to stammer, “I…I’m not...not sure what you mean…”
Jacob enjoyed this bit of theater. He spelled out “M-o-r-n-i-n-g-s-t-a-r,” and locked eyes with the fat man. “Morningstar...as in Lucifer...”
by Sean Padlo
Meanwhile return this Monday
March 16 to read
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the FREEZINE of
Fantasy and Science
~ Fiction ~
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