Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

With his eyes still half-closed, Jason turned towards Andy stiffly. The
motion was puppet-like and more than slightly unnerving. “No,” he said,
incredibly slowly. “He’s right.”
Andy bit his lip, and then nodded slowly. “Ooookay.” He paused, then
continued. “Sure he is, now. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s like
things are suggested and then when people agree on them together—”
Alexi cut him off. “—They feed off of that reality, which is of course
co-created… You get it.”
Andy looked over at him blankly for a moment, and then he smiled.
“It’s common sense.”
“Perhaps,” Alexi cocked his head slightly. “But most people are
unable to realize the implications beyond the words.” Andy looked perplexed,
so he continued. “I mention that it is warm. Suddenly, you are
more likely to not only agree with me, but to single the warmth out of
your experience.”
Andy chuckled. “You’re assuming that everyone will always agree
with you.”
Ken was watching this conversation, but his thoughts were veiled
behind a stoic mask.
Alexi smiled grimly. “No. I assume that everyone will agree, or at
least filter their experience relative to, ‘the group.’ Of course it’s not
always true, that’s where congruence comes in.”
Jason shook his head, not convinced. “That’s not all there is to it,
man.”
Ken finally spoke, though it was unclear whose comment he was
commenting on. “Do you think?”
This comment gave them all pause a moment, before Alexi finally
concluded the conversation. “Even Judas fits into the formula, Ken.
Conflict polarizes us further, sharpens our fuzzy convictions. We contribute
our vote in consensual reality, even by not voting. A society needs
its outcasts to retain its identity.”
The group fanned out for further investigation. All of them were wideeyed,
stumbling about in a haze. Alexi could feel the hair on the back of
his neck rising, and it was all he could do to keep from crouching and
letting out a defensive growl. The sense of dread was shared by all; it
was as if the buildings themselves were an agent of unfinished business,
of old, crumbling dreams, of an ancient people whose myth had long
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