With apologies to Jorge Luis Borges
Vision of Allison Morehead, Child of God
The Ascetic is an important part of
Christian society in America.
We watch the Ascetic every week on television, instead of going to church. Some
people do both, but my dad says they are nuts. I used to cry when I saw the ascetic,
because I thought he was scary. But I am not afraid of him anymore, and I am
helping Kimmy (who is my little sister and who is two) not be afraid either.
The ascetic dies for our sins. This
is good, because he is an evil, horrible man. Every night I pray for another lock on the door, which
is a hymn that we sung when I went to vacation bible school. That song is
about asking God for another lock on the door, so the Ascetic can’t escape. Mom
says I sing really well.
Vision of the Television, Revelator of the Ascetic
Every week it is the same. The program doesn’t have any
introduction, and the camera is always in the same position. A thin, gaunt man is
dragged on to frame by his guards. They are dressed in the clothes of a police
officer, without any ranking or identification. The prisoner is covered in a
hood, and he has been gagged. His struggle is in vain, for every week the
prisoner is forced into the machine. The machine is built like a thanatoptic weight bench, a long foam-padded platform inclined at a 45° angle. At each side are hinged
cuffs, two at the bottom for ankles. Once the cuffs are on the prisoner, there
is a period for each family is urged to pray for the magnification of pain.
Once the machine begins, bolts emerge from the cuffs. They are
blunt, and piercing the skin takes time. There is no sound, but it is clear
that the prisoner is screaming. They always scream. Once the bolts force their
way through the skin, the platform inclines to a 90 degree angle. The prisoner
is crucified. There is an assumption of death, but it rarely happens on screen.
When it does, it is considered to be a good sign. The whole ordeal lasts about
an hour before the program ends as abruptly as it began.
The Visions of Marcus, Guardian of the Ascetic
His identity is supposed to be a secret. Each
week they give
him a dossier on the prisoner and his crimes, a thin folder of autopsy
photos and police reports that turn his stomach. He has stopped
reading them. The hood does two things, his boss tells him,
it protects you and it protects their families. It prevents you from
becoming too emotionally involved, and it protects their families from
being
attacked. These men are the scum of the earth, he says, but their
families have
suffered enough.
He never sees their faces. They are all the same; they stink
of solitary confinement and have greasy skin. When he tries to remember them
individually, he can only see a blur of all of them.
Another Lock on the Door, the Hymn of the Ascetic
You give your grace,
You gave your son,
I dare not ask for more.
If it be your will,
To aid me still,
God, Put another lock on the door.
Another lock on the door,
Another lock on the door,
Lord grant me mercy,
I am not worthy,
Another lock on the door.
My road is long,
But I’m not weary,
With you my heart will soar,
‘Til kingdom come,
Your will be done,
Lord, put another lock on the door.
Another lock on the door,
Another lock on the door,
Lord grant me mercy,
I am not worthy,
Another lock on the door.
The Vision of Thomas Thiery, Personal Inquisitor to the
Ascetic
For two centuries, we have running on borrowed time, living as
if tomorrow would not come. We have prayed for the end, sung about it,
attempted to write it into existence. When it finally came, we
panicked.
There is still so much we have left to do, and because of this, the Ascetic is
unwelcome. We do not lie to ourselves, we cannot prevent the end. But we may
postpone it.
Every week I pray that when we pull back the rock, he won’t
be there.