Travel Bug (13 page)

“If he wasn’t the son of God, my life has no meaning.”

“You mean, your wealth, your family, none of this has meaning without Christ?”

“No.”

“What about the hope that some God exist?”

“Sorry, Harold, no sale here, too many years of Catholic indoctrination is going on in this psyche.”

“I understand.”

“First, my parents are dead and only Heaven can offer me a reunion. You are my only family now and I know this relationship is temporary. Now if I do become a priest, I will give away our entire family fortune…”

“I understand, I think…”

“So we don’t ever see Jesus Christ?”

“Never, not until after we die, Harold.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

We saw many religious prophets and found that they were far from prophetic. They didn’t move mountains or perform miracles or even anything close to that. Sometimes I was happy that I could see all these so called great faiths disproved. It was, after all, meaningful to me.

“Harold, I hope you know where I’m coming from.”

“Andrew, you’re coming from fantasy land!”

“What?”

“You’ve got no guts, son.”

“I saw the birth of life on earth and it disproved creationism.”

“A monkey could disprove creationism.”

“Well, yes but…… well, sure……”

“There may be no Moses or Noah or Daniel, they could all be fictional characters, you see…”

“That’s not a big deal, son, like it really matters to you. You’ve still got your divine rabbi, who spoke mostly in parable anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said with thinly disguised sarcasm.

“So what, literary symbolism is all that is important in the universe?” he asked. “Most theologians consider angels symbolic and not literal,” he said.

“Fine, now why are you defending the scribes who eventually evolved into what we now call writers?”

“They tell the truth, the good ones, the few ones, the ones with integrity, the ones with a conscience, they do.”

“How often do they tell the truth, Harold?”

“They tell the truth even when the truth is a lie.”

“Yes, Harold.”

“Haven’t you read stories you love that you know aren’t literally true?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“You might love the tale of Joseph Smith reading from the golden tablets…”

“I do enjoy that one.”

“What about Mohamed riding a winged chariot to heaven?”

“That’s another good one.”

“You don’t believe in either one of those.”

“I don’t even believe in some of the stories of my own holy book, literally, let alone anyone else’s,” I answered him.

“The point I’m trying to make, son, is that one doesn’t have to actually believe in a story in order for it to have meaning.”

“I can live with conflict, Harold.”

“Then go and see this man known as Jesus.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been through this, Harold.”

My great grandfather was driving me crazy. I can take the whole thing, the Bible, everything from the creation story to Peter being the first pope with a huge grain of salt and still walk away a winner, overflowing with the cup of faith.

“Do you understand me, Harold?”

He said he did but he didn’t understand what it was like to try and repent for a family that had too much wealth, too much power and could indulge itself way too much for its own good. Now that he had me chasing the ways of the flesh to indulge them, I was going to have an awful lot of repenting to do when all was said and done. Assuming the white haired witch didn’t cut us into tiny little pieces.

“I’m sorry, great grandfather. Please go on with what you were saying.”

“Okay. Listen, you see that doubt and faith are brothers like love and hate. It’s as simple as that, son. Even if you meet this Christ, the one you said is so different from Christianity, you can still get over it and become a great priest! We agree that fundamentalist Christianity has very little to do with a radical Jewish rabbi who lived two millenniums ago and wanted to help the poor and down trodden. Now I ask you, do the folks who run the Vatican, look like they can’t pay their electric bills to you?”

“No,” I answered sarcastically. His questions made me nervous. “They have no concept of reality when it comes to helping the poor.”

“Well, hell, of course they don’t. They have their heads in the clouds… so to speak. Perhaps you should start remembering this real Jesus and bring him into a church that allows pedophiles to be transferred but tells its own flock to not touch themselves.”

“I’m not going to see the historical Christ but I see your point.”

“Good, I’ll drop if for now.”

There was a pause. Harold smiled. He was giving me a theology lesson…

“Even though I dismiss half of my own holy book as myth or “inspired” fictional story, I am moved. Hell, I even like stories of reincarnation, the world being hatched from an egg, the sun and the moon talking to one another, ghosts, talking animals, the devil and sin being the real culprits and a man who walked the earth and eventually became god.”

“That’s exactly what they do. The best scribes or writers put you under a spell and my God, we have this obscene gift of prophecy or randomness to write great tales as soon as we return from the travel bug experience. Tell me something, seminary student and future priest of the Catholic version of Jesus, tell me you have never been put under their spell.”

The old man smiled at me.

Dear reader, I was just so glad to be there and be alive. My greatest hope was always to find justice and meaning in the world. I wanted to avenge my mom and dad and to save the world from the one who took their lives. I’m thrilled you have the opportunity to read my side of things.

“A good writer can make you believe in anything,” said Harold. “Look at all the mad tales we write after experiencing time travel. It might merely be left over oxygen in the brain or it could mean that we have temporary psychic abilities. Still, it means we have stories to tell, fictional accounts of things, right after a time travel trip.”

“What about ghosts, Harold?”

“Sure, still a problem…”

“Could you believe in vampires?”

“It would depend on how good the story was.”

“Bruce was more of a hallucination then a revelation, I think.”

“Okay,” Harold said.

“Besides, the worst monsters on the planet will always be people.”

“Amen.”

Man Farm

“It’s hidden!”

“What is? Roberto asked.

“The meaning of this silly, allegorical manuscript is.”

“Oh?”

Yusef was confused as to why Roberto did not grasp this. Perhaps it was because Roberto was just a pig. Yusef was a very proud gorilla and a general in the animal’s army.

“What specifically confused you?” Yusef asked.

“Well, the part about men being able to talk and then I guess I just lost any interest in the story. It’s just too ridiculous.”

“Yes,” answered Yusef. “However, it teaches this radical free thought philosophy regarding their fictitious uprising against us. It’s called “Humanism” and although I doubt man is capable of such revolution, the animal who wrote it just might be.”

“I know, it’s silly but it’s still subversive, right?”

“Yes it is,” he answered Roberto dead seriously.

Roberto was a bureaucrat in the tradition of the great dictator’s numerous czars and spies. He wasn’t a critical thinker because he was raised in the second language, the one that focused on eliminating as much thinking as possible. He still knew blasphemy against the great dictator and how wrong that was. Both animals knew that. Some stupid animal must have used man as the symbol of “liberation” against the beasts of the oligarchy. This was the new America, ever since the great atomic explosion hundreds of years before; evolution gave animals a shot at ruling society. Man was reduced to a mere farm animal. Mankind was allowed to reproduce and human waste turned out to be excellent fertilizer. This was true despite years of polite society stating otherwise. Men were lobotomized and therefore could not speak. Some radical animal came up with the concept of writing subversive books against the animal state. They were all anonymous and this was his latest work.

“There is an awful lot of stuff here about questioning authority,” said Roberto.

“Agreed,” said Yusef.

“Perhaps some animal who is a new college student has taken in these radical ideas.”

“University of the Great Dictator doesn’t teach that nonsense.”

“Neither does Great Dictator University,” said Roberto.

“Hell, even Great Dictator Community College refrains from such subversion in the classroom.”

“We need to bring this book to the attention of some academics, not just others in the military or great bureaucracy.”

“That was the smartest thing you’ve said in a very long time,” said Yusef. “We need to act now.”

The two animals climbed on their man wagons and headed towards Great Dictator University located in what used to be called Princeton, New Jersey in the days of man. The men were stubborn and Yusef had to whip them into submission to help them travel faster towards their destination. Once they arrived, Roberto kicked one of the four men in the teeth.

“For God’s sake, they let that one keep two of his teeth by mistake. Don’t animals know the rules? No teeth or fingernails, hands tied at all times. I mean these things could mean and hurt us if we’re not careful.”

“Perhaps,” said Yusef smiling. “They will rise up against us just like this radical fable suggest they might.”

“I think not,” said Roberto.

Yusef long thought Roberto had way too much faith in his fellow creatures. Animals could see their differences and still cooperate with one another for the common good. Humans could not do so. That’s why they had such ferocious differences in opinion about politics and religion. Economics was ultimately their downfall but the fact they could never see that all people were the same killed them. This stupid bureaucrat had no idea that even the great dictator could be wrong about some things. He apparently liked having them around as slaves. Yusef was not high enough in command to approach the great one. If he were in a position to do then so he would beg the dictator to eliminate all humans off the planet for good. The gorilla thought that even keeping them as slaves was tempting fate and playing with fire.

“Are you Professor Virgil?”

“Yes, you must be Roberto.”

“It’s an honor, sir. This is……”

“I know who this is.”

“Greetings, Virgil,” said Yusef.

The two had met before. Yusef was in charge of security at the school and it was less than five years before his military promotion. The radical professor, who was, of course, a rare species of owl, taught radical ideas at the university. Yusef had him put in chains and imprisoned. He wanted to have him executed but since his mind was so great and so evolved, it was unlikely. He was scheduled for execution but it turned out that he was an endangered species. There was no life imprisonment. A great lawyer, who was a shark, got him off. Worst of all, he had tenure and now still taught his thinly disguised radical agenda.

“I can’t say it’s good to see you again,” said Virgil.

“What do you want?”

“First I want to congratulate you. No one else has ever escaped my wrath. All others are either rotting in jail or if they lucky, they have been executed. You are very fortunate that you have tenure, professor.”

“Well, that and my lawyer.”

“Yes,” said Yusef. “You’re lawyer was quite a shark.”

“No, actually he was an alligator,” he answered sarcastically.

“Enough,” said Roberto.

“Let’s get down to business,” said Yusef.

“Fine,” answered the professor.

“Now these radical experiments you’ve done in the past with men. You don’t see how one could assume you are the anonymous author of this subversive book?”

“Why would I risk my career?”

“Why?”

“Yes.”

“Virgil, you are self-hating, diluted miserable wretch. You weep for the evil humans but have no idea what the cost of defending ourselves from them is.”

“I see.”

“We will need full access to all your files and you will be accountable to these dangerous and absurd experiments.”

“Good idea,” said Roberto.

Virgil, of course, had no other option but to comply. His experiments to show the full potential of human intelligence and the possibility they could live as equals among the animals almost cost him his life. He could not afford to make the same mistake. If not collaboration then at least cooperation was necessary in order for him to go on living. This was a dangerous regime in his mind. These fierce creatures would stop at nothing in order to maintain total control. The only thing they could not control was the minds of their fellow creatures but they were working hard on that.

“I will do whatever you ask,” said Virgil.

“I know you will.”

Roberto and Yusef worked very hard at digging through every piece of information they could gather from Virgil’s extensive work and research. Every man and woman who was operated on and experimented on should have been put down as soon as experiments were completed.

“You know, there is no way to prove or disprove what you have done with the humans after your work was done.”

“No. Let me show you,” Virgil answered Yusef.

“Fine,” he answered back.

Virgil flapped his wings and walked down two flights of stairs. It was a relatively large university but the pig, the gorilla and the owl didn’t have to go very far. They entered a boiler room with a large furnace. The gorilla could tell Virgil was uncomfortable even going into the room. He looked at the furnace as if it were some kind of terrible menace.

“Right there, you can even see the burnt remains of human bones. I believe that’s all you need. Isn’t that right, gentleman?”

“That’s all we need for now. Should we require more, you will know about it,” said Roberto.

Yusef and Roberto walked the owl back upstairs. They left him alone. He knew without a doubt they did not believe his version of events. Virgil knew their skepticism would be reported to the highest authorities. He also knew that only Yusef was particularly bright. Roberto was an idiot. If only he was in charge of investigations and not the frightening, observant gorilla Virgil would be off the hook.