August 22, 2006

Paragon’s Prologue (10 of 10)

Thread: Paragon

His legs were trembling, hiding under the desk while the top half of his body did all the diplomatic work. They might be called upon at any moment as a last resort to do their job, which was to relocate the upper half in times of distress, and relocate it with some speed. “Begone foul spirit,” he said without any trace of confidence, making up the words as he went along. “I am not interested in the fear you bring. I am here on God’s bidding. God Himself wishes for this to be.”

“Yessss,” Elvis hissed, “truuuue.”

The conversion of the United States to theocratic state was gradual. The seeds were sown during the initial phase of coerced worship. The separation of Church and State that was enshrined in the constitution, which has foundations going back to St. Augustine, was eventually overturned. Laws and policy were determined through divinity. The inevitable exodus of the wealthy and talented was the catalyst for the completion of Paragon’s project. Tolerance and free speech were cast down. The borders were sealed.

From the sound of Elvis’ voice, he sensed the glimmer of déjà vu, like some beautiful woman beckoning from a dim alley with a beguiling smile… who would vanish as soon as he reached the alley himself.

“I know you,” he said. He was shocked at this realisation.

Elvis said nothing, encouraging the President to say more to fill the dread silence.

“I remember you from somewhere.” The President chased the déjà vu woman but he could not even get close.

“Yessss, you are Paragon. You are my commandment.” Elvis said, drool continuing to spatter on the floor.

The horrific death of his wife marked the end of Paragon’s “restraint” and the beginning of the bloodiest period of Paragon’s America. Fortunately the Office of the Paragon fell just a few years later in a terrorist attack that little is known about. It is generally believed to be the handiwork of the domestic guerrilla group “Lady Liberty”, although there is speculation that another group may have been involved.

Déjà vu no more. Everything fell into place. “You chose me for this, I remember.”


Everything made sense. The night before he had decided to run for President was the night that Elvis had come to him. He then felt empowered. He realised there was – no, sensed a connection between them. The strength that this being had conferred to him was spiritual and divine in origin. He was rocked by this knowledge. God had come to him in this strange form and laid His hands upon His faithful servant. He got up from his seat, but his knees buckled, and he fell into a humble bow before God.

“Insssstrument, I have inssstructionsss,” Elvis whispered. The President heard many things in the voice of his God. He heard the white noise from between the broadcast channels. He heard the waves of the sea that crashed against the cliffs, eroding them. He heard the raging fire of a funeral pyre. He heard the entropy that lay in wait to feast on order.

Most historians agree, however, that the Paragon did something for the world that had seemed impossible. In the face of an extremely capable and tangible foe, unlike the protracted “War Against Terror” of the early twenty-first century which was an exercise in shadow-boxing, the rest of the world slowly united, piece by piece. Gone was the complex conflict of the Middle East; international politics now consisted of a sharp polarisation of America and Not America.

The President could not raise his gaze, humility confining his eyes to the floor. He said, “Tell me, my Lord.”

“All mussst worssship.”

The President understood. America was a home. A single roof under which all lived together. He had been through every room of this house, taking out the garbage, fixing up things that should have been taken care of years ago. But the house was teetering dangerously on wooden foundations that were overrun with dry rot. To ensure a future for all, the structure of the house would have to be completely restored from the ground up.

As much as we wish to condemn the death, despair and destruction that he spawned, what the Paragon indirectly created has endured. The world is a safer place, just liked he promised, although we are still red-blooded, meat-eating capitalists, addicted to money.

“It risssesss. Ssstand, commandment.”

It was the President of the United States who had fallen to the floor in humility, but the Paragon of America who rose in his place.

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 2208

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