Boy with No Name
His father had always boasted he had known of his son's fate the moment he was born, though this was not true. It was only after the Lottery had taken place that he made such claims. Every time anyone would even whisper anything in regard of Ancogni or the Twelve-Faced Goddess, he would feverishly tell them how he helped create the child that would save them all from Hadstan.
But the candor of this story is that when the cardboard Lottery Box arrived in their mailbox, both his mother and father let it sit on their counter for a long period of time. Instead of embracing the inevitable, they ignored it, hugging their son in hope that he would be deemed mortal. Only as the Lottery day ticked closer did they open it.
Inside lay their son's white sphere and invitation card. The card's red and golden edges seemed to mock them, for an invitation made it seem as if they had the choice. This was not the case. But the invitation card was tradition, and tradition was not given a second thought, of course. The couple set the card to the side and looked at the Lottery ball. Neither of them had ever seen one before, and they peered at it with wonder. Its surface was as white as a priestess's shawl, and the name of their child along with his government-issued number was etched into it with black ink. They set it back into the box, and it sat there, hushing the household with its power.
Liza, the poor soul, was only twenty-five years of age when this happened. One night, after she made sure her son was fast asleep in his crib, she paced her kitchen with anxiety. Some parents had been prepared by their mothers or fathers not to worry, for sure since they hadn't picked, their sons or daughters wouldn't either. Her husband had been given this talk long ago, so he had no worry as he slumbered peacefully in their bed. But Liza's parents hadn't told her this, as she had not been in the Lottery's age gap, so she paced the kitchen for hours, trying to figure out a way to eliminate the possibility of her son's chance. If she never saw him again, she didn't know how mad she would go in grief. She grabbed the Lottery ball and repeatedly twisted it in her hands. White, white of the immortal Goddess and her son, Ancogni. There was nothing else in the box, no instructions other than a date and time to be ready, so in her panic, Liza grabbed a towel and her paints from the closet, spattering the sphere with paint until it was colored with mortal colors.
They spoke nothing of the upcoming Lottery until the day came- June 21st.
The couple and their child waited for the bus to come pick them up, for not they or any other they knew had a private way of transportation. The only way they could go anywhere, or do anything really, was with their government-issued cards. The cards had the picture, date of birth, and sex of its owner. When you held its plastic surface against the light, the Temple's symbol, XII, could faintly be seen. Neither Albert nor Liza thought much of this, for there was little distinction between the Temple and the government. Priestesses and priests held the same amount of power as any law enforcer.
Liza held her baby in her crooked arms, cradled in a blue cloth as she and her husband stood in sight of the baby bus. The bus that parked in front of them was white, rather than the standard government red and gold, and was only seen every twelve years to pick up the babies and their parents, hence the title the citizens nicknamed them, "Baby Busses".
Liza and Albert both tentatively stepped forward and entered through the doors that opened with a whoosh, letting out an air-conditioned breeze. They handed their cards to the driver, who swiped them on a scanner next to the different buttons on his board. "Ah, the Hutchinsons, yes?" The couple nodded. "You have to show me his Lottery ball." The driver said with a nod to their child. Albert fished it out of his pocket and showed the driver, covering the painted parts with his hand. The driver let them enter with a small smile. "You're in aisle 13. We'll be there shortly."
Every time the bus stopped, a couple would enter, warily sitting down in their seats. Mothers hushed their crying sons and daughters, and fathers tickled their children to keep themselves occupied. Because the law proclaimed each woman and man who wed could only birth one child, there was no need for extra seats for siblings.
When they arrived at city hall, the building the Lottery would take place, many Baby Busses were already parked in the front of it. There were priests standing in the front of the doors, welcoming the parents of their future messiah without knowing which two faces they may be. They ushered all inside, where priestesses escorted the newest arrivals up the stairs and into the Lottery room. Before each parent was able to sit, they handed the priestesses their child's white sphere. When Albert handed over his son's, the priestess looked at him with dark eyes, but there was no way to replace it soon before the Lottery, so she simply moved on.
When all were settled, the Lottery began. The highest priestess of the Temple stepped forward from her spot in the shadows of government officials and Temple priests, and gave the rows and rows of parents a nod. In the silence, her voice needed no amplifier.
"Welcome." All the Lottery balls had been placed in the metal cage that was said to be given to the Temple by the Twelve-Faced Goddess herself. Everything was ready. They all knew why they were there, but priestess Annabel, clouded with the smell of perfume of citrus, told them anyways.
Every twelve years, the Messiah was called from the newly born children, ages twelve weeks to twelve months. The Lottery let fate sift through its choices and decide which child would be blessed by Ancogni, the son of their Goddess. Being blessed by the divine powers, she reminded them, was the highest honor a normal mortal could get, and the Messiah would live a life of connection with spirit and heaven.
"We set this date on the summer solstice, for this was our Lady and Creator created everything. And now, let her and her son bless this hall and show us our Messiah."
She cranked the handle of the cage over and over, causing the cage to spin and the balls inside to clink and clank with each other. After a minute of this sound echoing the room, she reaches the top of the cage and opened a latch. Every breath was held as they waited. Even the children seemed to understand something much bigger than them was happening; no child cried or whined. Priestess Annabel slowly spun the handle one last time, and a Lottery Ball rolled out for all to see.
A wail went out as Liza tightened her grip on her son and stood, trying to leap over the chairs and towards the door. She shoved through the legs of other parents and ran, ran towards freedom with her son. But out of the shadows appeared government guards and priests and priestesses who all held their hands out for her son like greedy children wanting sweets. Liza stepped back and felt the hands of her husband on her shoulders. She relaxed a bit, and this let down her guard as he pushed her away from him and ripped their child out of his arms. She let out a scream of terror as her husband handed their son away to one of the priests. She tried to run, to save her child or perhaps rip her husband's throat, but hands held her back and pulled her away into another room. Her husband was lead out to wait for his wife, and the Lottery room was again silent except for the cries of a few babies that had been awoken from their reverie due to the sudden noise.
The seated parents were thanked for coming, and were bid farewell as they boarded the buses that would take them and their children home.
XII
The boy was raised to believe only priestesses, priests, and the forces in the Holy Book had names. He needn't a name, for he was only to be a sacrifice to Ancogni and his Goddess.
The boy learned paragraphs and paragraphs of scripture, and knew his role in the temple was to serve the priestesses and priests. Every morning at dawn, he would recite a prayer to the Twelve-Faced Goddess and Ancogni, and at every meal, he would chant wards against the evil, Hadstan, so the temple priests and priestesses would be safe.
He knew very little of the outside world; only that he was lucky to be at such a holy place. Compared to the other temples he was told of, he was blessed to be living in the most advanced place in the world. He had been told he was left in the temple by the Lady Goddess herself for this very reason: to grow with the most spiritual commune on Earth. With no mortal distractions of color, for everything was white- the tile, the walls, their sleeping cots- the temple was the purest place he could be.
He was almost eight years of age when a strange priestess came to visit him and the part of Ancogni in his soul. This happened every few lunar months; a foreigner from the outside world coming to the temple. Normally, visitors would be amazed by the pristine white marble walls and the torches that were kept lit at every hour. Yet this priestess did not stop to marvel at the temple's beauty, nor did she stop to say a prayer at the huge sculpture of the Twelve-Faced Goddess, each face carved with detail. The boy sat on his knees on a cotton mat and peered at the queer priestess through his eyelashes.
She wore robes and scarfs in a whirlwind; there were so many that the only thing he could see was her eyes. She moved with urgency, and when she saw him, she ran towards him like he was Ancogni himself. As she reaches him, she slowed to stare at him. He resumed his prayer until he was called by priestess Annabel.
"This is priestess Isabelle from the northern temple, son. You will treat her as you would treat me." And with that, she left, leaving the boy with the priestess.
She did not speak, so neither did he. Most priests and priestess jumped at the opportunity to meet him, yet she looked almost… she looked at him as Ancogni looked at the mortals with no children. Fearful for the future. She finished assessed him, and finally spoke.
"Did they tell you where you came from?"
He had been asked this question before. "I was delivered here by the Twelve-Faced Goddess to live among the priestesses and priests of the temple."
But the priestess shook her head. "No, no, I mean where you really came from. Do you not remember?"
"I have been here since I was created by the universal mother. Priestess Annabel can tell you if you would li-" He stopped. The priestess' eyes had begun to gleam, and he wondered what he had said to upset her. But the priestess smiled at his concerned face and leaned closer, gently cupping his face in her hand. He was too stunned to speak or move. None of the priests or priestesses were allowed to touch him. None.
"They lied to you, baby. I have missed you for every second." She reached into her robes and pulled out an orb of color, with the sunset and grass and the sky all in her hand like she was the Twelve-Faced holding the whole Earth! He was amazed at the spectrum of color, and felt like he would fly up to heaven when she handed it to him. He turned it in his hands over and over and peered at it in wonder. He saw letters engraved on it, in black. He read the name out loud.
"Who is that? And who are you?" The woman looked at him with a small grin.
"It is you. That is your name, and I am your mother. You have a real mother, not just their Twelve-Faced Goddess, but they took you from me when you were young, only a baby. But I promise I'm going to get you out of here, tonight, so you can finally come home. I have missed you."
The closest thing to a mother he had was priestess Annabel. To have a real mother was something he wished for often; it was the reason he waited to be sent to the heavens, secretly: to have a mother. He had been told the Goddess was his mother, but if it was a possibility… but for it to be a possibility would mean his whole life had been a lie. And that was something he could barely handle.
It was luck for the boy and the worst nightmare for Liza, but at that moment footsteps echoed down the hall and the temple priestesses and priests returned, alongside with another foreign priestess. The actual priestess Isabelle. The priests immediately grabbed for Liza, and in the chaos of her fighting against them, the boy slipped the colored sphere in his pocket. He said nothing as she was pulled away, screaming at how it was unfair, that all of it was unfair and they had stolen her baby.
Priestess Annabel sat beside him, knees towards the Earth. "I am sorry you had to experience that, child. That woman, if I can even title her as a woman, is possessed by Hadstan. His evil runs through her, and he came here trying to trick you, to turn you evil. But I promise now," she motioned to priestess next to her, "you are meeting the real priestess Isabelle. Treat her as you would treat me."
And with that, she left him with echoes in his mind: …possessed by Hadstan.
I am your mother.
…possessed by Hadstan.
I am your mother.
Though he trusted priestess Annabel more than the stranger, he couldn't help but have the feelings of desire for parental love. He couldn't seem to shake way the ghost of Liza's hand on his cheek either.
XII
Time past and the boy's twelfth summer solstice came.
It was dawn, though he could not see the sun. He was in a room lit with only the burning fire in front of him. Five priestesses and five priests stood to the side of the fire. Priestess Annabel, who had been with him since he was a babe, stood behind him. Everyone in the room kneeled except the boy, who looked up at the smoky temple ceiling. He recited the scripture.
"'Now no grass blade had sprouted the Earth floor until Goddess reached into the Earth and sculpted a woman and man from the dust on the bare ground. She breathed in life, giving a sliver of immortality unto the mortals; and as Sun rose, She created streams and gardens, for color is pleasing to the eye and made mortals ungodly, and temples on the Earth.
"'But as light shined on the created Earth, Her son approached Her. He asketh Her to create meaning for the man and woman who hiked the land with no reason. He looked at himself and at his Mother, and he clasped Her hand in hope.
"'We must make them children, a young boy, and a young girl, to give meaning unto them." He pleads. And She agreed, so together, they created Children, Ancogni giving them fractures of his godly Soul.'"
Priestess Annabel lifted her head up. "Goddess, you sent us a Messiah, a savior, to remind us of our duties and sacrifice to you. So we return this Child to you, to your son, Ancogni, in hope that you keep us from Hadstan and his evils of Hell." All stood, and as the boy stepped forward, the priests and priestesses lit incense wood, filling the room with a citric smell.
As he stepped into the fire, he reached into his white robes and clutched a colorful orb he had received, telling himself that he was stronger than Hadstan, and that he held it in power and strength and will. As he burned, he let out a scream, but did not run. He stood where he was, and he saved the world.
XII
Albert clutched the bottle and let down the last of his beer. He had been in the bar since the night before the summer solstice, waiting at the seat next to the window. He had shouted at everyone how he helped create the child that would save them all from Hadstan during the night; but now, as the sun traveled across the sky, he was silent. Ever since his wife had not returned from the Temple four years before, he knew that he would never see her or his son again. Even if he and his wife had disagreed about their son's purpose, it had left him with grief so wide he knew no way to fill it. His eight years of devoutness had been a waste, for now, he only found the holy Goddess when he had drunk bottles and bottles of whatever alcohol was the cheapest. He found the holy Goddess often.
So as the white busses past by the window, he dipped his head onto the bar counter and muttered a small prayer, clinging to it. The Baby Busses, carrying the next sacrifice, rolled past, and Albert did nothing except sigh.