The Chronicle of Belthaeous
by John W. Steele
Chapter 13: The Eye of Mammon
Jigme reached into his pocket and fished out a tiny green container. He removed the lid and held the tin before me. “Care for a dip?” he asked.
I looked at the packet. “I don’t eat that dung.”
He laughed like some kind of barbarian snob. Then took a pinch of tar within and placed the contents behind his lower lip.
“You don’t know what you’re missing, Dr. Neumann. You wouldn’t know what to do with this world even if we shared it with you. Though I have not been allowed complete access to the Chronicle of Belthaeous, the old monk told me of many of its secrets. Other parts of this knowledge were given to me by my Enukai superiors, but much of it still remains hidden.
“The history of the world is nothing like you have been led to believe. Everything you have been taught is a just a rewritten copy of a copy of a copy of previous myths that stretch deep into antiquity.”
He spat on the ground and wiped a dribble of brown saliva from his chin. “According to the old priest, this universe is but a tiny sector of creation. Long ago, an age of undreamed-of glory existed here.
He went on to say that an Archangel of the Divine Hierarchy invaded this dimension and took control. This deity was little more than a galactic-level consciousness, but it refused to obey the regulatory mechanisms of the established order. The angel demonstrated ability for horrific destruction and cruelty, and in time it grew to be known as the demiurgos; the evil power of darkness.
“According to the lama, this counterfeit creation is but a shadow of true reality; its atoms are impermanent and subject to decay. As a scientist you already knew that, but what you fail to understand is that there are two creations on this plane. One of them is Divine and the other one evil. Not all beings are ontologically the same.”
“Knock it off, Jigme, only an idiot would fall for something like that. All men bleed red; that’s all I need to know.”
The Sherpa laughed. “That’s because you think you are the body only. Even after all you’ve seen, you remain blind. There is a vast difference between us, Neumann. Your lineage is that of your primeval father, Adamas. But mine is not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we share the same Mother but my bloodline is that of my father, the demiurgos, Lucifer.”
His comment shocked me. “That would mean...”
“That’s right, Neumann he gave her more than an apple. Since my long-removed brother slay your brother, we have been at war.
“Look at it like this, Rodney: we have the courage to do what needs to be done to get what we want. Your race is fettered by this conscience mechanism; that’s why those of your ilk are born losers.
“Our bloodline controls this earth, and it always will. The sons of Cain have no conscience, and that is why we are far better designed to rule our father’s kingdom. Why is this so difficult for you to accept? Our meat bags may be the same, but there is no connection between us after that.”
I’d grown weary of Jigme’s drivel; he sounded too much like Adrian. I could never win an argument with him, either. The world was always on his side. I didn’t give a damn how the world began. I’d grown tired of the fairy tales. All I cared about was how long I had to stay here. I wanted to end this conversation; it served no purpose but to confuse things.
“You may be a ‘descendent of Cain’, and the old lama might not be a liar. But I could not do the things your race does, even if I wanted to. I would rather be dead than to be like you. In my book, you’re the reason this planet ended in disaster, and you can have it. My idea of hell is to be forced to exist among your kind.
“The stench of your race is everywhere, and that stench is paranoia and intimidation. On a level playing field, I could kick your ass, but it’s never level; your brothers control it all. Even the few of my race that leak into your ranks had better play ball or they don’t last very long.
“You win by default, demon. What I’ve learned of your kind is you never attack alone, and you have plenty of friends in high places. If Cain did indeed kill Abel, I’ll bet it was a sneak attack.”
Jigme raised his head and stared into the distance. “I can’t wait to see you go down, Neumann. The Vulpeculans want you for something, but I haven’t put the puzzle together yet.
“We all know who you are; we can smell one of the Light a mile away. Your kind is so obedient that even when we slap you across the face, you turn the other cheek and ask for more. Of course, this type of programming has always been part of our strategy to control you. Still I can’t figure out why you’re with us, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Why did Thrangu allow the mountain to kill him?” I asked.
“I can’t answer that, ” Jigme said. “He knew more about the prophecy than I do. Perhaps, when he learned of the horrors about to unfold, he decided he’d rather be dead than return the Eye of Mammon to Belthaeous.”
He knows of the Eye. I put on my best cretin puss and tried to appear innocent. “What is the Eye of Mammon? What is its purpose?”
Jigme looked hard in my eyes. I could see the wheels in his head turning. A twitch contracted the corner of his mouth. “For someone who has not pledged his will to Mammon, you have enormous stones to ask a question like that. I share this knowledge with you because you’re too asleep to understand its significance. Belthaeous didn’t lose the Eye. The lickspittle Jerus removed it from him.”
Jigme paused for a moment; he lowered his head and spat a rust-colored trail of slime on my boot. Then he looked at me and smiled. “I know where the eye is, my little cherub. You can’t compromise with evil. Evil always wins, because it has nothing to lose. The Eye is the will of Mammon. Whoever holds it controls a great prize. It is the key to the events about to unfold.”
“Why did Thrangu have it?” I asked.
Jigme paused and surveyed the others. He motioned to a guide, and the young man hurried towards us. There was no question in my mind Jigme was in command of the Sherpa now. He ignored my question.
“Answer me, Jigme. What is the purpose of the Eye?”
Adrian’s voice cut through the silence. “Dr. Neumann, stop your dawdling and come over here. We need to secure the Avatar.”
Jigme eyeballed me as if I was a turd floating in a bowl. In an iron voice, he said, “The Eye is safe for now, Light Warrior. You haven’t got much time. When I understand the consequences, I’m going to teach you a lesson in ancient history.”
He stared hard in my eyes and winked. “Until then, I don’t give a damn what you do. Just stay out of my way.”
He raised his hands and pointed at me with both fingers. “Mammon has his eyes on you.”
Copyright © 2014 by John W. Steele