Evolution of the Diner...
So, as I work at St. Francis of Assisi scrubbing and waxing floors I've got quite a lot of time to think, and as such I've found myself thinking more and more about a few stories I've had running around in my head. Well, as it turns out I've decided to wind them all up into one story, the same plot that I began in "The Diner" will be fleshed out into a much larger scope and will probably end up being edited and rewritten a couple of times to include things as I write them.
For now though...here is the introduction
Prologue
The Prophet predicted that the "exploding slug" would begin the war, and he was right, as people of his profession usually were. But, the world wasn't used to these corner preachers being right about something. The world however, was used to people standing on street corners spouting off "crazy talk" about how the world was going to end, but when they began showing up all over the world in numbers that boggled the mind, and captured the attention of the media. It began late in the year 2011, but nothing really came of it until the summer of 2012. By this point, the majority of the news stations had stopped reporting daily on the activities of people who, several respected psychologists, had called glory seekers, were out for nothing more than their fifteen minutes of fame.
In July of 2012 there was only one news station that reported regularly on the activities of the "prophets" and that was a small television station located in Italy, the only reason that they kept following what the reporters who got assigned to the stories called, "dead ends," and with people who they called, "a bunch of dirty weirdos," was due to their proximity to Vatican City. Rome watched anything having to do with religion, especially people claiming that they were speaking for God who weren't a part of their Church. The manager of the station figured that they could garner a little favor with the new Pope by showing that they did in fact care about these blasphemer's trying to usurp the power of the Roman Catholic Church. No word had come from St. Peter's , but that didn't mean that they weren't watching, and as such, the station kept on following the story.
It was on one of these "dead end" assignments that a reporter for the small town of Viterbo on the outskirts of Vatican City, caught what would turn into the most rebroadcast story of the last thirty years. Raquel Costa stood with her back to the so-called "prophet" and was wrapping up her nightly clip. When her camera man turned towards the subject of the video for the closing shot he noticed that the man had stopped speaking and was facing the camera directly. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and the cameraman found himself thinking, Great, now he's putting on a show. But, what happened next cleared all thoughts that what he was seeing was a show. The prophet opened his mouth and began speaking in a deep resonant voice, very unlike the nasal one that he and Raquel had become so used to during their visits.
"Where Time has four corners
He will preach Elohim's Word
There he will raise humanity
Yet there he shall fall.
And from his funeral pyre
The fires of war shall be lit."
The prophet shook his head and blinked a few times. Raquel turned towards him, microphone extended expectantly. But, when the man looked at her and said, "Che?" the reporter's disappointment was enough to make even the most cold hearted viewer sympathize with a woman who had just missed the story of her career. Crestfallen, she looked back to the camera and a look of opportunity spread across her face. She began speaking in very rapid and nearly unintelligible Italian, pointing first at the camera then to the prophet. The cameraman stopped filming at that point to show the tape to the confused prophet. When he did resume filming Raquel was again in front of the camera, her professional demeanor returned and she explained that despite having been showed the tape the man had no clue what had occurred or what was meant by the words that had come from his mouth.
Suddenly, the world was back on "Prophet Watch." Cameras were everywhere, and all the old tapes were reviewed. One was eventually found that contained something similar to what had been recorded in Italy. Again, the deeper voice was present, but the audio wasn't as clear and only a couple lines were recorded and the last one was incomplete. Despite the fragmented nature however, their impact would be just as significant.
"Eli's words shall prepare
But heed him not
And secure your..."
A name was given, Eli, nothing like this had been recorded. So now, there were two pieces of a puzzle out there. There were thousands of people named Eli in the world, so society focused on the piece from Italy, "where Time has four corners." The media, and the experts they brought in, agreed that the prophet's words were meant to represent Time's Square in New York City. It was immediately swarmed with cameramen and reporters eager to film the new prophet. They were surprised to find out though that even the "crazies" watched the news. One of the most famous plazas in the world was now crowded with sackcloth wearing speakers. Cries of "Repent!" "The world is doomed!" and "God's fury shall cleanse the Earth!" were now as common as the cries of "Taxi!" that were heard the day before. Now, it was like trying to find a needle within a stack of needles.
Three days passed, the crazies kept going, preaching twenty-four hours a day. By now, the crowd of cameras had dwindled. A few ingenious reporters convinced their crews to post stationary cameras in offices overlooking the Square. It was on that morning when a keen eyed camerawoman noticed that one of the crazies hadn't moved from where he had been the night before. Six hours and he hadn't budged an inch. When she backed the tape up it turned out that he hadn't moved in the two days since they'd had the tape running. Moments later they were out the door, bolting down to Time's Square while praying that they were the only crew to have spotted him. When they got to the Square they plowed into the crowd and pushed their way to the man they jokingly referred to as "the statue."
He looked up at them and regarded each of them with a nod, then he looked back down at the ground, saying something that was too quiet for either the human or electronic ears to pick up in the din of yelling. The reporter thrust his microphone under the man's nose and asked the million dollar question, "Are you Eli?"
A small, but resonant voice answered him, "Now is my time." With that, something happened that those who had grown tired of the yelling would call a miracle, and skeptics would call a coincidence. The crazies all stopped talking at the exact same moment, as if someone had flipped a switch. Some of them looked at each other in alarm, others simply accepted it and wandered off. Within minutes the crowd of what had been some two hundred self-appointed prophets was down to twenty silenced crazies, three film crews, and one man who was dressed in, what had been at it's best, a tattered suit.
For now though...here is the introduction
Prologue
The Prophet predicted that the "exploding slug" would begin the war, and he was right, as people of his profession usually were. But, the world wasn't used to these corner preachers being right about something. The world however, was used to people standing on street corners spouting off "crazy talk" about how the world was going to end, but when they began showing up all over the world in numbers that boggled the mind, and captured the attention of the media. It began late in the year 2011, but nothing really came of it until the summer of 2012. By this point, the majority of the news stations had stopped reporting daily on the activities of people who, several respected psychologists, had called glory seekers, were out for nothing more than their fifteen minutes of fame.
In July of 2012 there was only one news station that reported regularly on the activities of the "prophets" and that was a small television station located in Italy, the only reason that they kept following what the reporters who got assigned to the stories called, "dead ends," and with people who they called, "a bunch of dirty weirdos," was due to their proximity to Vatican City. Rome watched anything having to do with religion, especially people claiming that they were speaking for God who weren't a part of their Church. The manager of the station figured that they could garner a little favor with the new Pope by showing that they did in fact care about these blasphemer's trying to usurp the power of the Roman Catholic Church. No word had come from St. Peter's , but that didn't mean that they weren't watching, and as such, the station kept on following the story.
It was on one of these "dead end" assignments that a reporter for the small town of Viterbo on the outskirts of Vatican City, caught what would turn into the most rebroadcast story of the last thirty years. Raquel Costa stood with her back to the so-called "prophet" and was wrapping up her nightly clip. When her camera man turned towards the subject of the video for the closing shot he noticed that the man had stopped speaking and was facing the camera directly. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and the cameraman found himself thinking, Great, now he's putting on a show. But, what happened next cleared all thoughts that what he was seeing was a show. The prophet opened his mouth and began speaking in a deep resonant voice, very unlike the nasal one that he and Raquel had become so used to during their visits.
"Where Time has four corners
He will preach Elohim's Word
There he will raise humanity
Yet there he shall fall.
And from his funeral pyre
The fires of war shall be lit."
The prophet shook his head and blinked a few times. Raquel turned towards him, microphone extended expectantly. But, when the man looked at her and said, "Che?" the reporter's disappointment was enough to make even the most cold hearted viewer sympathize with a woman who had just missed the story of her career. Crestfallen, she looked back to the camera and a look of opportunity spread across her face. She began speaking in very rapid and nearly unintelligible Italian, pointing first at the camera then to the prophet. The cameraman stopped filming at that point to show the tape to the confused prophet. When he did resume filming Raquel was again in front of the camera, her professional demeanor returned and she explained that despite having been showed the tape the man had no clue what had occurred or what was meant by the words that had come from his mouth.
Suddenly, the world was back on "Prophet Watch." Cameras were everywhere, and all the old tapes were reviewed. One was eventually found that contained something similar to what had been recorded in Italy. Again, the deeper voice was present, but the audio wasn't as clear and only a couple lines were recorded and the last one was incomplete. Despite the fragmented nature however, their impact would be just as significant.
"Eli's words shall prepare
But heed him not
And secure your..."
A name was given, Eli, nothing like this had been recorded. So now, there were two pieces of a puzzle out there. There were thousands of people named Eli in the world, so society focused on the piece from Italy, "where Time has four corners." The media, and the experts they brought in, agreed that the prophet's words were meant to represent Time's Square in New York City. It was immediately swarmed with cameramen and reporters eager to film the new prophet. They were surprised to find out though that even the "crazies" watched the news. One of the most famous plazas in the world was now crowded with sackcloth wearing speakers. Cries of "Repent!" "The world is doomed!" and "God's fury shall cleanse the Earth!" were now as common as the cries of "Taxi!" that were heard the day before. Now, it was like trying to find a needle within a stack of needles.
Three days passed, the crazies kept going, preaching twenty-four hours a day. By now, the crowd of cameras had dwindled. A few ingenious reporters convinced their crews to post stationary cameras in offices overlooking the Square. It was on that morning when a keen eyed camerawoman noticed that one of the crazies hadn't moved from where he had been the night before. Six hours and he hadn't budged an inch. When she backed the tape up it turned out that he hadn't moved in the two days since they'd had the tape running. Moments later they were out the door, bolting down to Time's Square while praying that they were the only crew to have spotted him. When they got to the Square they plowed into the crowd and pushed their way to the man they jokingly referred to as "the statue."
He looked up at them and regarded each of them with a nod, then he looked back down at the ground, saying something that was too quiet for either the human or electronic ears to pick up in the din of yelling. The reporter thrust his microphone under the man's nose and asked the million dollar question, "Are you Eli?"
A small, but resonant voice answered him, "Now is my time." With that, something happened that those who had grown tired of the yelling would call a miracle, and skeptics would call a coincidence. The crazies all stopped talking at the exact same moment, as if someone had flipped a switch. Some of them looked at each other in alarm, others simply accepted it and wandered off. Within minutes the crowd of what had been some two hundred self-appointed prophets was down to twenty silenced crazies, three film crews, and one man who was dressed in, what had been at it's best, a tattered suit.