"The population is nothing more than a marionette, devoid of strings. The government, religion, idols, money, and other men can become the strings. But it is the fool who thinks that he alone pulls them. That task is reserved by God."Reynolds thought he was a man that shouldn't be taken lightly. His associates on the council knew better. In fact, they figured rightly on many occasions that he could be pushed in quite an assortment of directions. In Reynolds' mind; however, their arguments were not dragging him towards a different opinion or action, but rather he was steering the council away from a bad decision by selecting it. For Reynolds, the beauty of this process was that he could get the whole council rallying against him and his idea and in the end have them unwittingly make the correct decision. Frankly, Reynolds enjoyed the whole conflict idea and used almost any situation to fine tune his unique decision forcing process.
- Pope Ezra I (d. 2030) in a letter to the Bishop of Cantabury, World Council of Churches
During the application of this process, most anybody watching the council proceedings would think that Reynolds was a spineless jelly fish- a leader only on paper- and not worth his weight in government vouchers. But the Cap¬tain would not have put Reynolds in charge of the council if Reynolds was not able to perform. Strangely, although everybody on the council seemed to hate Reynolds, most really respected the fact that no matter how badly Reynolds' initial ideas were the final plan always worked out quite well. The council played Reynolds for one of God's fools; a truly undeserving man with more than his fair share of divine intervention. Those same observers of the council would've said Reynolds had the luck of the Irish, but Reynolds was Canadian. In turn, Reynolds thought the council, as well as the observers, were just plain fools. God never entered in to the picture when Reynolds viewed the world.
God didn't need to, he spoke to Reynolds at night and at length telling him stories and weaving plans for the council to implement at Reynolds' twisted behest. During the big religious crisis of the eighties, Reynolds spent many a night laughing at the "faces of God" painted for the TV viewer by those soon to be uncovered con men. The now ex Diviners of Truth always seemed to reveal experiences with 63 foot images of Christ visiting them in the bathroom, or proclaim that Jesus in the form of a rutabaga saved a family of four by dialing 911. Reynolds knew these flashy suited toupees were in desperate need of psychiatric help, and time showed this to be generally true. Reynolds also knew, that if God was to come in the image of a giant he would come only in the height of a prime number. And God would never, never come as a rutabaga broccoli, maybe, but never a rutabaga.
The God that has, and still does, speak to Reynolds in his dreams has visited him in many forms. However, the predominant form Reynolds seems to speak to is a muskrat. This guise at first confused Reynolds, but the muskrat explained that he owed God a favor after a wild night of carousing with Saint Peter. Reynolds doesn't remember the whole story, but it had something to do with Gate Duty and being AWOL for Pope Pontius Pilot.
Reynolds never bothered to figure out why God talked to him. Divine communication seemed a very natural event in his relatively unnatural life. In fact, these communiques with God were the only events in his life that Reynolds chalked up to better off unanswered. Reynolds believed fervently in the axiom that deep investigation destroys an intriguing mystery or belief. And except for these dialogues, Reynolds loved watching any highly, reverently held icon crumble apart before his prying eyes.
That's why Reynolds loved his new life as Mega ProCouncil of the Star Chamber. The "job" allowed him ample opportunity to oversee the destruction of those highly reverend sacred cows. The fact that he was work¬ing directly for the Pan Electorate and was further entrenching their suffocating hold on the populace of the world with each successful mission, did not bother him in the least. Reynolds knew that with each success, he worked closer to his real reason for living; the final and ultimate coup d'etat of idol smashing.
The muskrat had hinted of a "higher purpose" to Reynolds many times during Reynolds' infrequent bouts of insecurity and diminishing pur¬pose. The muskrat never mentioned the finale directly, but Reynolds had it all figured out yesterday. What else was left to topple after all other supporting structures, both spiritual and physical, were forced to crumble? Reynolds had been gleefully bouncing the answer around in his mind for hours now........
-Government.
"You are all fired."The chopping of spiritual and non-government approved social struts took careful planning and attention to detail. Reynolds knew this very well and carefully scripted his attacks. Most of the other coun¬cil members took to idol busting with the same gusto as a dog to a rawhide, and before Reynolds' tenure, with about the same effect. The danger was that the whole plan could boomerang against the potential usurpers if not mopped up carefully. The masses always need - crave- a figure head, and can cling tightly to even the weakest fact as proof for their beliefs.
- Troy Aikman, President of Ballistic, Inc. while addressing the Harvard Graduating Class of 2010.
Reynolds viewed the world as if it was held up by a multitude of piano wires. Strung up in the air by each belief, every religion, idol, legend, dogma, tenet. Reynolds worked with the theory that there are two ways of pruning the complex menagerie. One could attempt to weave the strand into yours or one could cut it and discard it. Clipping the wires is an easy task, but haphazard pruning can bring everything down around one's ears, and no one wins. Reynolds kept asking himself at each juncture whether it was better to reap or sow. Balance and selectivity was the key. The work is complicated and nerve wrecking, but the payoff!!! - and on such a scale!!!
This was the idea set down many years ago by the Pan Electorate to solidify their control and widen their base of support- To be the last support, spiritually and economically, for humanity. A piano wire strengthened by the absorption of the strategic and the weeding of the expendable. Reynolds, and the rest of the council, were called in to work themselves out of a job. Only the Pan Electorate didn't realize that Reynolds took his job seriously- very seriously.
"To successfully know one's self is to face down the worst the world has to offer."Not many knew Reynolds very closely. He didn't associate with any of the council members's beyond the chamber. He thought they were fools and visa versa. Additionally, Reynolds had very few associates outside the chamber, and most of those were nodding acquaintances. In fact, nobody really associated with Reynolds, except maybe the muskrat - and even that was not under his own volition. It's not that the muskrat didn't like to speak to Reynolds, but the muskrat was there on business and really didn't think of his conversations with Reynolds, for the Almighty, were social calls.
- Attributed to William Grimaldi, the last President of the United States of America, 2005.
Since his new life with the council Reynolds had disassociated himself from his former life. An effort that was not too hard. There are actually two in the present world that knew Reynolds closely in his former life. One is buried on a hillside (now a parking lot) in the Free State of Wyoming. The other left Reynolds for dead on the other side of the same hill.
Near death can force a lot of introspection about one's self and paths taken and paths not taken. Especially the path that took Reynolds to that dark hill on November evening. The single bullet was meant for him but was defected by the transponder in the band of his hat. The kaleidoscope of color that invaded Reynolds head after he was hit kept him occupied until he hit the ground. It was after he hit the ground that things got interesting.
More than once in Reynolds' life he had experienced a vision. Usually they could be chalked up to the amount of drugs coursing through his veins, but this one needed no psychedelic prompt.
Reynolds saw the world as a carpet, woven tightly beneath his feet. The population of the world wrapped together by each tiny stitch and loop. Off into the horizon, a lager robed man was pulling upon a loose thread. The carpet seemed to tug back, but was over powered. The carpet began to lose its cohesiveness as the robed man rapidly unwound the carpet. But quickly the amount of freed thread began to impede the mans progress and he began to struggled against a now self-advancing tide of colored string. The man had to suspend his destructive work and the carpet still unraveled - as if yearning to commit to total entropy. Reynolds watch the dissolution roll towards him until the framework underneath Reynolds' feet loosened and he slipped through.
Reynolds closed his eyes and committed his body to the fall, but it never came. Reynolds was back upon the carpet world and all was well. Again the robed man appeared and began to pull at the same loose thread. This time as the fabric began to relent a women appeared behind the robed man. She sat with a spinning wheel and feed the freed strand into it. With the bulk of the captured thread being collected by the woman, the robed man was free to better control the unraveling of the world. The spinning wheel flickered and sparkled at the carpet thread moved through it. Reynolds looked hard, what has coming out the other end? The carpet around Reynolds began to lose its cohesiveness and Reynolds feet slipped deeper into the tapestry. He strained to capture any glimpse of the spinning wheels product. Reynolds sank deeper. Madly he scrabbled to keep himself afloat as the carpet turned into a sea of thread. He went under seconds later satisfied.
A rope.
"Don't ever cross a man you never intend to meet again. You will."Reynolds laughed to himself. Now that his was privy to the final act, God's plan was surprisingly cheap on wit but heavy on dramatics. To really enjoy this, Reynolds' figured he was going to have to find a way to liven the whole scenario up. Yea, someone said that one shouldn't fuck with God's word, but Reynolds' thought he and God made a good team and teammates were usually allowed some leeway; otherwise, they wouldn't be part of the team. Reynolds' figured God trusted him.
- What should have been an Old Turkish Proverb, but never was.
Reynolds was good at interpreting people, but he was new for omnipotent beings, and for the first time in Reynolds' life he was only mostly right.
"Nature is ironic. Where else can one get at random, order that is only perceived when looking backwards."From the outside the hut looked like any other along the river. Short, mud caked and no outward signs of life. Last night's dinner along with the garbage can outside the slightly askew door gave that all away. Inside a sleeping muskrat twitched nervously. The air around him moves darkly as if a barely visible curtain has encloaked him. Moving through the curtain reveals voices.
- M.L. Daughtery, Prof. Emeritus Stanford University
"...and watch him closely, I don't completely trust him. Ever since A & E...I must do something about this free will stuff some day." The light frowned, in thought.
How does the old fart do that? "Yes, sir," you stodgy old- Watch it Percy, stop that thought-"Yes, sir."
The light flickered sharply.
Uh, oh...
"Quick move, Percy. You are getting better."
The light began to fade.
"Thank- Thank you, sir." Idiot, Idiot, Idiot. If it wasn't a dream the muskrat would have hit himself on the head a few times.
"Oh, Percy..." The light rekindled and beckoned with the afterthought.
"Yes, sir," Oh, shi- Shut UP!!
"Please don't send Peter any more chocolate liqueurs - they are over simulating him. I thought he learned his lesson on his last outing....humans, don't wish it on your enemies."
"Yes, sir - Glad I'm not one, sir, and I won't, sir." Never- SHUT UP!!
"Goodbye, Percy and bless you." The light enveloped Percy's curled up body momentarily, diminished and passed forward.
"Goodbye and Thank you, sir."
Percy paused and began to fade back into sleep. God, I hate the blessings, he thought, my mouth tastes like cotton in the morning. I just hope I don't feel like throwing out my video tape collection for too long tomorrow. It cost me a fortune to replace it the last time.
With that thought, Percy slipped back into a peaceful and boring sleep.
"To calculate to IQ of any crowd (20 or more); average the age of the crowd, add 100, and divide by the total number of feet."
- Unknown
