Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

We never speak to one another, except when the boy bums a cigarette,
which admittedly is rather often.
Now I’m leafing through Aaryah Copelan’s annotated version of the
Sefer Yetzirah. On the back cover it claims that the invocations therein
were used by ancient rabbis to communicate telepathically and to fly.
Though the image of medieval rabbis flying through space to do battle
with evil-doers is a compelling one, I’m having a hard time finding the
method from the text. Must be missing something. I suppose I am also to
believe that yarmulkes were originally worn because they make you
more aerodynamic when you fly around in your merkevah chariot. Now
the bus has passed by Lenny’s, the boy gets off. As he brushed passed
me I noticed that his eyes were darting around in fear and confusion.
Before I get any farther, I should tell you more about my profession.
When I get off this bus I am no longer head of the Philosophy department
of the aforementioned “liberal arts college down the line.” I become
Aleonis de Gabrael. One does not act a part, one is the part. We
trade one illusion for another and are our representations—don’t let your
reflection fool you. The magus is more powerful than any God, and the
most powerful amongst the legions of the damned is Maya, lord of illusion.
As I have hinted, I am a member of a spiritual organization. Exactly
which organization isn’t important—we make up fronts all the time just
to keep new recruits guessing. It would seem, at first, that a “spiritual
organization” is a real contradiction in terms. And this is precisely why
we handle things the way we do, and why I am the head of “new
recruits” as a neophyte in the Order. The bus is rattling laboriously over
cobblestones now, which means the next stop is mine. These have all
been answers to questions you don’t yet have—but you will. Refer back
to them when you have completed my report.
Ah, here’s my stop now. See you on the other side.
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