Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

Windows 95 interfaceable gun. The Leviathan is Amoco, he realized with
sudden certainty, his eyes narrowing.
“Jesus!”
Jesus’ eyes lit up, looking as if he was about to say something. In
actuality, Johny’s outburst made him lose his revelatory train of thought.
The Leviathan…and Amoco? The Agent shot him a look that shut him up
before he even spoke.
“Jesus,” Johny repeated, “I don’t know who the hell I am! Am I myself,
or am I that reflection? But what’s reflecting? …I’ll die without
ever having known what I am. Die, and it’ll have been lost for their sake,
because I wasn’t ever allowed to be myself.”
The Agent looked mildly concerned. As a result of this, more than ten
thousand miles away, a rooster crowed. A perfect example of Jungian
synchronicity at work. “I understand. Be careful, now.”
“How? How can you speak about yourself?” Johny almost screamed,
his voice hoarse.
“No, I really do. A while back I realized that identity was a…well…a
mutually created object. Before I lost her and gave my identity for the
cause,” he said, a tinge of regret in his voice. “But I realized that you
can’t ever lose anything, since there’s no singular you in the equation.
Everyone you have ever loved lives on in your inner world. Death?
Without it, there wouldn’t be life. You have to open your eyes to the big
picture, see that we’re all the part of the same massive organism learning
what it is to be alive, and what it is to experience itself. An absolutely
single thing can’t possibly perceive itself—it can’t even exist! I…” he
looked over at Jesus and his voice trailed off for a moment. “You
remember, I’m sure… I felt like everything I had ever wanted suddenly
showed itself to me as a tablet of values that had been sold to me. It’s not
God’s wrath, the vengeful pentagon in the sky, that is to blame. It is simply
equilibrium, which we sometimes call ‘Karma.’ Karma ‘tests,’ but
not consciously. Shake your fist at it, but it doesn’t change anything.
There is no higher power listening. This is it. If I let go of this quarter
here,” he said, showing Johny the shiny coin, “it will fall. And that’s the
most painful thing of all—that this ‘I’ must die, that it is powerless, that
it is nothing. It isn’t even I…do you see? Just continue unearthing those
deep roots, ‘cause the leaves have always been dead. But your redemption,
your birth, is also contained within this death… We’re just too
damned attached to them to let them fall without sorrow.”
200