The Ninth Day
Mastema was stirred by a sudden shaking motion. His eyes lifted, bearing witness to soft blues in a darkened room, curtains open to the start of a dawn sky.
His protege Cassiel was sharing a queen sized bed with him, cat in her lap. Her body under the purple and gold silk sheets of an emperor, eyes fixed to the screen of her phone.
“What ails you, witness of man?” clucked Mastema.
Cassiel stirred under the covers, speaking in a whisper. “I think humanity’s broken.”
“Vanitas?” Mastema inquired with a soft smile.
“No, Vanitas is a groaning dumbass with sky high Tina Turner hair and the stupidest meat thermometer of a sword.” Cassiel grimaced. “I think it’s something worse.”
“Do tell!”
“Humanity keeps creating these fucked up false gods… Like over in America, they’re praising this twenty something year old hitman who loves do-it-yourself books and couldn’t be assed to cover their face in a McDonald’s. In South Korea, the prime minister tried to coup his own government with their military of 20-something year olds because even though he’s got a wife, he’s told his people that he suffers from ‘male loneliness epidemic’. And here in Osaka, they’ve elected these separatist libertarian lunatics as their entire representative government.”
Mastema softly put Cassiel’s phone down. “Maybe you’ve had enough of the Lord’s Children for today?”
Cassiel couldn’t make many facial expressions, a quality he found challenging during moments of intimacy. Though on the occasion that she felt fury, sadness, or pity, her countenance spoke volumes. Between pets of her cat, her face was shriveled with disgust, like a lemon.
“Last week, Mastema. You left me with this book from the Bureau of Chronology, fourth whorl. The Book of Perdition.” Mastema nodded. “And I thought, oh here’s some dumbass index of people who are going to hell. Just another Santa Claus naughty-or-nice list for the priests and preachers to rabble on about.”
“It’s not, though.” Mastema gently smiled.
“Right. It’s an encyclopedia of human memories and lore lost by time itself.” Cassiel hugged her legs, in forlorn pose. “Kind of surprised you thought it’d be worth gifting to me.”
“There’s more to the Lord than you may expect.” reassured Mastema.
“‘The Lord’ didn’t have a problem giving into carnal pleasures that night.” Cassiel returned a shifty gaze to a Mastema turning salmon. “I’ve got a theory about that ‘book’, care to hear it?”
“…as your witness.” Mastema raised an eyebrow.
“Forgetting is a feature.”
“Explain.”
Cassiel repositioned her body to stare directly in Mastema’s eyes, elbows on her knees with folded hands in front of her face as she squat down with crossed legs. “Christianity preaches faith, not knowledge. Faith can be an act of vulnerability, to believe in the goodness of humanity and the collective. Begin from nothing, desire nothing, build something better together.”
Mastema reclined with a single elbow on his pillow, amused. “Certainly, that’s what faith is for.”
“No, only part of it. Faith can also be used as a bludgeon for dumb people to feel invincible, to justify that they’re above the poors.” Cassiel pointed a finger at Mastema’s chest. “Like your entire god damn two-bit act.”
Mastema was silent, again.
“But knowledge is more spooky than that. Knowledge is a form of power.” Cassiel brought a finger to her lips, contemplating the gaudy Chinese ceiling. “Accurate knowledge can form armies, lies can destroy honest faith. Knowledge can kill.” Her eyes glowed. “Some knowledge is better off forgotten.”
“Cassiel…”
“I was born as a Xana, Mastema.” Xana crossed her legs before staring at her beau. “You are a ladder climber and a lying weasel who is probably a net negative for society, but somehow…” Xana put one arm over Mastema’s barrel chest. “You do seem to care about humanity.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your work with the Liberators, your efforts to ‘save’ humanity through testing them with influence of demons. Your… voting record as an elected up until your suspension in government.” Xana looked off to the side. “You’re a neocon dipshit, but you’re a neocon because you don’t want the world to burn.”
Mastema tried throwing up his arms over Xana’s embrace “Wise beyond your years, curio of Man.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how my marriage survives this episode.” grumbled Xana.
“You miss Gabriel?”
Xana sighed and collapsed face first on the body of Mastema. “I don’t know what she was thinking about becoming Prime Minister. Gabby hasn’t been answering my phone calls.”
“Might she be a little upset with you?” whispered Mastema, who certainly was not to blame for any of the things that might have happened during these last nine days.
Xana rose up, hands on Mastema’s pecs, continuing her stare. “We’re gonna break into 2-3-1 Nagata-chō, Chiyoda-ku to get some answers while Tokyo’s still quiet. Bring a stun gun and a twelve pack of bottled water.”
“At once, my lady.” affirmed Mastema, eager for more adventures to come.