The Three Deathless of Pleades and the House Khron of Sirius had been served their domestic portion of America, the 2,000 best temporary specimens from the self-domesticating portions of the earthly herd now awaited training, breeding, slaughtering, butchering, cultivating.
As the youngest and keenest mind of the Guides, it fell to Pan Khron to make certain that Eternity’s two chief concerns were addressed. First, the hundreds of “ever-kindled furnaces” [1] had been deprived of their temporary keepers. Additionally, these plants could not be maintained without other forms of heating to keep them cool. This was incomprehensible to Jack. He did understand clearly that Blue was the bride of Time who dreamed of her at Eternity’s grim well and would not have her besmirched, which could happen if these ever-kindled fores were not put out.
Pan announced to Circe, who had oversight of Earth’s well-being, “Releasing automatonic technicians to cool this nation’s energy wells.”
Thank you, “Fairest Son of Khron—and, for Time’s portion, for the Feast of Orion?”
Pan, regarding the information displayed in light characters of written word and number, which Jack was entirely incapable of understanding, was stalled, and all eyes, temporary, Deathless and titanic looked upon him, “For Eternity’s sake!?” He exclaimed, not at Circe, but at the automatonical report upon the shield above the skiff’s wheel, “330 million of the leaderless herd remain.”
“A fair herd to hunt. What is our portion?” asked Circe.
“The domestic portion is bound for Sirius and Pleades.
“The dreaming portion is reserved for Eternity.
“The wild portion remains for the hunt.”
Pan continued in detached astonishment, “The bulk are already attentive to up-cull. 220 odd million, at this instant, are involved in remote self-worship of the collective as an ascendant Eternal deity superior in its own mind to Time itself, largely in denial of Deathless Kind...the entire nation is in didactic, heretical hypnosis…”
The laugh of Circe Baal was a terrible thing; if steel could sing, gold could ring and a race could die in one long drink, it might sound like that deathless mirth, “Then may Time drink deep, alongside His fresh Bride!”
“Yes, Madam,” obeyed Pan Khron, “Beckoning the Automatonical Choir.”
As Pan pressed a jewel upon the shield behind the skiff wheel a heavenly song of joy suffused the entirety of Blue’s heaven, commanding the souls of 220 million odd American chattel, to depart their fleshy forms to streak, at the speed of light, to the fold in Time’s might that took the form behind them, of a portal of serene night.
By comparison, the passage of the uplifted stock, of their automatonically encased bodies, streaking past, was as if the flight of a few sparrows to the uplifting of all a world’s geese. Light streaked by, hundreds of millions of small darting beams, like shooting stars, many perishing as they attempted to pass the void, the stronger beams streaking past them as they left the void themselves and achieved passage into Blue’s sweet-scented breath.
Jack was amazed and thought, ‘Late summer on this end of the sphere—in two days the place is going to reek of soul-fled flesh. The predators will feast, the vermin will swarm, the vultures will darken the sky, and I, I will be the fleetest hound to course what is left across the bones of this Temporary House No More.’
‘Yes, Darling,’ welled a dark lust for retribution within him.
Pan Khron, neither in word or in thought, intruded upon Jack’s little musing. It occurred to him then, without thinking it, but knowing it, that his Master was the weakest of Titanic kind present on this hunt, and that it might well fall to Jack to insure that his Master and his Master’s now magnificent bride, were not mistreated, duped or betrayed by the evil Deathless hunters and Brutal ageless guards of Pleades. He knew for certain, it having been bred into his very bones, that the Brothers Khron would never betray themselves. But the Brothers Khron, each, with one little temporary, were to be paired off separately in regional hunts with one Deathless One and two half-titan guards.
…
Lisa stood next to Deb, in her bra, self-conscious as a gray Utah State hoodie was exchanged for her fouled blouse and zipped up by those caring, bent fingers.
Deb was excited, “I always knew, when I was a kid, that the world was going to go to hell one day, before Jesus came. But I always figured I’d miss it.”
Lisa laughed, nervously, “Yeah, me too. I was never counting on the Rapture, just trying to live according to the Bible.”
The people all around were talking into their phones, looking into them, texting into them or videoing with them. Lisa looked up and saw a few streaks of light, like ascending shooting stars, headed up and up and not burning out like a meteor, but continuing, and muttered, “It looks like the best of us have already been called, like the Officer—they’re gone, there were maybe five, ten.”
Deb looked up and pointed, “Look, over the Uinta Basin, over Skinwalker Ranch—I’ve been there—look at the opening star!”
The bent tanned finger pointed upward to the southeast to the left of Parley’s Summit, and Lisa did see what seemed like a star grow larger, then go dark, and the space in the sky about it had no stars—“Oh, no” she blurted, “they, they’re, all dead!”
All of the folks that had been on their phones dropped dead at once, all at once, right in front of them. A white pickup flipped on the road behind them. But they were so numb to disaster they did not even turn around, just listened to it flip, and crush, and flip, and shatter, and flip and groan to a stop behind them.
A man rolled up on a motorcycle, shutting it off, and stopping next to them, still straddling it, “Good God, what in hell is goin’ on?!”
“Did you all call this in?”
Lisa held up her hands, “No phone, came here to get a phone.”
Deb shrugged her shoulders, “Got my shot today and can’t remember a thing—left my phone at home I guess.”
The man took charge, “I got it,” pulled up his wrist phone, tapped it, looked into the screen, and dropped dead, dead like a stone, falling over under his bike, not even twitching when the hot exhaust pipe began sizzling through his jeans into his leg.
“Oh My Hell! This is crazy!” shouted Deb.
Then, in the sky, Lisa noticed while looking up and away from the sizzling biker thigh, “Look, Deb, where the star grew and went blank, look.”
They both looked up to the southeast, both of their fingers trailing up to the empty portion of darkness with no visible stars, and stood dumbstruck as countless streaks of slight light, lesser lights then the few they had seen before, streaked up towards that space.
“Oh My,” noted Deb, “Look, its dark over the mountain, but look, Park City, Kamas, Heber, Francis, look at all the streaks, people have just been beamed up and left for dead! Oh Shoot, Lisa, I didn’t want to be around for this!”
The lights kept streaking up in waves, smaller and smaller waves. Lisa turned to Deb, whose eyes were wet with tears, “I’m so sorry, Deb. But I’m so glad you’re here. An angel sent you for sure.”
She hugged Deb, who, after all of the off-the-cuff strength and busy determination, seemed suddenly lost, possibly thinking of her large family and what might have become of them.
It was like someone else, someone better was speaking, “Thank you, Deb, you are a blessing—thank you for saving me.”
Deb seemed lost and Lisa thought that perhaps having somebody to look after was the best thing for this suddenly lost old woman.
“Deb, what should we do?”
Deb then seemed to snap out of her inner doubts and answered, matter of factly, “Let’s not try and use a phone—phones are bad.”
“Gotcha,” Lisa agreed, and hugged Deb tight as lights continued to steak upward into a certain dark corner of the night.
…
Notes
-1. Nuclear reactors
