After the fight with the long-bearded fellow, the guards took me somewhere. It has a cell block labeled "Disciplinary Block."
I was locked in a cell. The first thing I noticed that it was dark. There were no windows in this cell. I coiuld not hear anything outside the cell, which implied that the walls were soundproof. There would be no way to communicate with anyone outside.
I sat there for God knows how long. The only thing I felt was the hard floor. It was not a comnfortable place, like a hotel room in the Dominion.
I did not like being put here. But how can I blame the guards? How can they know I am an other-dimensional duplicate of a murderer?
Suddenly, light appeared. There must be a slot in the door or something.
"Here is your meal," said someone, whom I could not see clearly. "At least you won't go hungry."
I took a look. It was just water and saltine crackers. That was it, just enough food to keep me alive. I just ate it, enjoying the sensation of eating.
I spent what seemed to be an eternity in the cell, alone in my thoughts. I wonder if Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie are enjoying themselves. I was separated from them back in June, and they made an attempt to retrieve me in August, but that was two months ago.
Then I wondered if they were even still alive. I mean, they might have gotten killed during one of their trips. They might have been captured by the Kromagg Dynasty. I mean, my last encounter with the kromaggs was just last month, and I barely got out of that place with my life.
Now is not the time to despair.
That thought sounded as if a voice were calling out to me from across the dimensional spectrum.
They are alive and well. They are still looking for you.
Well, I can't argue with a voice in my head. Was I going crazy? Was whatever made me unstuck is making me go insane? Did taht encounter I had with Rembrandt and Maggie in August just imagined.
Here, in this cell, the only reality was darkness and silence. There was no way to open the door.
Then the slot in the door opened, and I was served dinner, which was saltine crackers and water. I ate my dinner, and then I remained in my cell, with nothing to do or to look at. The cell was very effective in isolating me from the rest of the world. The Kromagg Dynasty couild be waging war on this world, and I would not have a clue about it.
Finally, the door opened. the light hurt my eyes, and I had to adjust. I saw a guard wearing a hockey mask in addition to the guaard uniform.
"Your time in this block is up, Mallory," said the guard. "You may leave."
I went up and looked outisde. It was already dark out! I must have spent more than ten hours in that cell! I was just glad to be out, to breathe the fresh air.
I was walking back to my cell block when I heard someone.
"Hello," he said. I recognized the voice; it was the same guy I got into a fight with earlier today, after my meeting with the priest.
"It would be unwise to resume the fight," I said.
"I just want to ask your forgiveness, Brother Colin," said the long-bearded man. "I should have remembered that you were on our side. You were framed, just as Jesus was framed."
"I take it you sympathize with the Sword of the Lord," I said.
"Yes, I met up with them four years ago. They opened my eyes to the truth."
"What did you learn from them?"
"I learned that the American Crown and the Christian churches are of the synagogue of Satan. They are like the Saduccees and Pharisees of Christ's day. They preach Christ and serve the Devil. They persecute true Christians, Christians like us."
"Were you sent to prison for being a Christian?"
"I am serving time here for insurance fraud," said the bearded fellow. "Before meeting with the Sword of the Lord, I was just living for myself and my sinful desires. Now I live for Christ, and if He wills it, I shall die for Him!"
"Do you trust these people?" I asked. "I mean, Jesus Himself said there would be false prophets and false teachers. Ye shall know them by their fruits, He said."
"The Sword of the Lord showed me who the false prophets and the false teachers are."
"Do you think I tried to kill the King?"
"We believe you have been framed by a Satanic conspiracy. The king just faked his injuries, and a CIA sharpshooter shot that lady who was with him. They then made it look like someone from the Sword of the Lord did it. The king, the media, the churches, and the FBI were all behind this. But let me say this. If you had shot and killed the king, true Christians like me would sing hymns in praise of your faithful service to Jesus Christ!"
"What is your name?" I asked.
"I am Brother Ryan," said the bearded fellow. "And you are free to call me Brother, for we are brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! Tomorrow morning at breakfast, you may sit with us, rather than on the floor."
Then Ryan left, and I went back to my room. As usual, all the beds were taken.
"I saw you get into that fight with that Jesus freak," said this skinheaded man. "You sure kick ass."
"Can I get one of the beds?" I asked.
"Go sleep on the floor, Jesus freak."
So I did.
Just before I did, I wondered if my duplicate had been framed. One thing I learned is that things are not always what they seemed, and can lead in unexepcted directions.
I was woken up by the morning horn the next morning. The guards assigned by the cell block walked down the hallway.
"Here is your assigned work detail," said the guard. "You are all assigned to the prison garden. Report to the garden at 9:30 A.M."
That was about two hours from now. I decided to go eat breakfast.
It was certainly a change to actually sit on a mess hall bench as I ate my breakfast. These long-bearded men, whom the prison population dubbed Jesus freaks, all sit here.
"Welcome, Brother Colin," said Brother Ryan. "We are all graced by the presence of a servant of Jesus Christ."
"Uh, thank you," I said. "I'm just lucky to have a place to sit."
So I sat down as I ate my scrambled eggs. I heard stories from the other Swordsmen of the Lord, as they called themselves. Some of them had ben convicted of activities related to that group, others were converts who were sent here for unrelated federal crimes.
"So, Brother Colin, tell me about yourself," said Ryan.
"Well, I was born in San Francisco," I said.
"So you were born in the Pit of Satan," one of the Swordsmen said.
"If you say so," I said. "I started moving around, becoming an itinerant. I last lived in El Segundo."
"So that was where you were hiding out," said one of the Swordsmen. "Where were you when the king was shot?"
"What day was that?" I asked.
"I think it was on August 5, 1997," said Ryan.
"I was living in El Segundo at the time," I said, which was true.
"So it's true," said Ryan. "The FBI did frame you. They got that little traitor to lie to the court against you, just as the priests and rulers got two witnesses to lie against the Lord."
"I wonder where he is," I said.
"The FBI probably hid him somewhere in the country," said one of the Swordsmen. "But they can not hide from God! If he does not pay for his treachery in his life, he shall pay for it in the next life. There is no room in Heaven for cowards and traitors!"
"Truly, the FBI is an agent of Satan," said Ryan. "May God deliver his holy judgement upon this ungodly kingdom."
After finishing my breakfast, I went to the garden. Brother Ryan wen t with me, for he was in the same block, though not the same room, as I was.
There were three guards armed with truncheons. According to what I heard, the food grown here is given to homeless shelters. We were all given hoes by the guards.
"Well," I said to Ryan, "at least we're helping to feed the poor. That is what Jesus would want us to do."
He said nothing.
"Hey Jesus freak," my skinheaded roommate said to Ryan. "Why don't you go get a haircut. I could even cut your hair for you, make you look all pretty."
The other inmates laughed, as well as the three guards watching us. Ryan lifted up his hoe, looking at the skinheaded fool.
"No," I said to Ryan. "It's not worth it. Be joyful that you are worthy to suffer shame in the name of Christ."
So we started using our hoes to dig up weeds. And boy, where those weeds entrenched! I began sweating due to the labor. We lossened the soil, and picked up the various weeds, some of them thorned.The security horn rang once during our work detail, and we lied face down on the dirt for a whole minute. It reminded me of the parable told by Jesus concerning wheat and weeds, although I do not know if the Son of God used this parable in this dimension. Over all this hoeing, I must have sweated a gallon.
"All right," said one of the guards. "You are relieved now."
We all decided to take a shower before going to eat lunch. I felt the lukewarm water spray against my body. I remembered the time that Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie temporarily retrieved me while I was taking a shower. I hoped that they would wait until I was dressed before.
I noticed that Ryan was in the stall next to me. I held on to the soap, making sure not to drop it. I made sure not to look at any of the other men, or at least any part of them below the waist.
"Well, well," said the skinheaded man, whose voice I recognized. "Two Jesus freaks in the shower together. How touching."
"Yeah," said this big Negro man with a huge Afro. "Maybe they could make sweet love to each other."
I saw Ryan making his way to the two men. I put my hand on his shoulder to warn him not to engage in such foolish behavior.
"Ooh," said the skinheaded man. "The Jesus freak is touching his boyfriend. Here is something to get you two lovebirds started."
I saw a bar of soap bump at my feet. The skinheaded man already left.
I ate lunch at the Sword of the Lord table again. Today's lunch was hamburger.
"I should have struck that man," said Ryan. "How dare he insult a servant of Christ!"
"Just let it go," I said. "Fighting him would have only put you in that isolation cell, or worse."
I decided to go to the Internet to research the Sword of the Lord. The Google search popped up m,any hits.
I clicked on the first hit, and I got a message saying that acess to this page or server is forbidden by the guest. This must be a website that sympathizes with the Sword of the Lord.
Another link led me to a Department of Justice web page. It contained the FBI intelligence on the Sword of the Lord.
According to the web site, the Sword of the Lord was founded in 1992 by the Reverend Paul Hill, who claimed that America was na amoral, anti-Christian nation and the churches were traitors to Christ. He once had a radio show who he managed to weave various government acts into a satanic conspiracy. He actively urged the overthrow of the Crown and replacing it with a theocracy that would enforce Christian morality.
Mr. Hill went into hiding after his followers were implicated in bombings and assassinations in New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Cleveland. It was because of those bombings that the FBI put the Sword of the Lord on a terrorist watch list. They were implicated in the assasination attempt on King Leonard in 1997 and a bombing in Mexico last September where Pope Judas XXI was killed.
Then a voice on the speaker announced the visitation schedule. I heard my name.
I wonder who came to visit me.
I went to the visitee's room. It was adjoined to the visitor's room with a window. A guard was posted in the room
My visitor was none other than Quinn Mallory.
"Hello," I said, speaking through a phone.
"Hi, Colin," said Quinn. "How are you doing?"
"Well, I have food and shelter and running water," I said. "At least I won't starve to death in here."
"That's nice," he said.
"How are you doing?"
"Well, I'm in medical school, and I work as a waiter to pay my bills. I hope to get my doctorate next year."
"Why did you come here?"
"Well, you are my brother. I'm still in contact with your lawyer Mr. Kelly. He's submitted his brief to the Ninth Circuit. I am still wondering how you got mixed up with those people. I can not understand why you would associate with people who commit acts of terrorism while claiming Christ wills it. Katie didn't want to come along because she's still in shock over the events of the past two years."
"Do you think I tried to kill the king?"
"I don't know what to think, Colin."
"I am innocent of that crime. I can explain. Have you heard of parallel universes?"
"Physics was my hobby., but why are you discussing it? You said that physics was heresy, the teaching of the Devil."
"Well, when you shine a beam of light through a pair of slits in a barrier, it creates a pattern."
"Because of wave interference."
"Right. And when the light goes through one photon at a time, it makes this same pattern."
"You sure know a lot about science for someone who dismissed it as heresy."
"The reason these individual photons makes this pattern is because of interference with its counterparts from parallel universes."
"Why are you discussing this with me?"
"Because I am your brother's counterpart from another universe!" I shouted. "That is why I look the same, and have the same fingerprints and genetic code! I am in this prison while he is out there somewhere. I have this collar around my neck, set to explode if I leave this prison."
"So how did you get here?" asked Quinn. "Take the next flight to another universe?"
"There was an accident with a device," I said. "I keep traveling to other universes. In a few days, I will go to another universe. If I still have this collar on, it might explode!"
"Something is wrong here."
"Yeah, I'm serving time for a crime my duplicate here committed. Listen, I left a CD on your coffee table in your apartment. It is done by an artist called the Grandmaster C. That's one of my duplicates, Quinn."
"Katie was right," said Quinn. "I shouldn't have come." He then left withoiut saying goodbye.
"Excuse me," said the guard. "You will have to leave now."
So I did.
I was locked in a cell. The first thing I noticed that it was dark. There were no windows in this cell. I coiuld not hear anything outside the cell, which implied that the walls were soundproof. There would be no way to communicate with anyone outside.
I sat there for God knows how long. The only thing I felt was the hard floor. It was not a comnfortable place, like a hotel room in the Dominion.
I did not like being put here. But how can I blame the guards? How can they know I am an other-dimensional duplicate of a murderer?
Suddenly, light appeared. There must be a slot in the door or something.
"Here is your meal," said someone, whom I could not see clearly. "At least you won't go hungry."
I took a look. It was just water and saltine crackers. That was it, just enough food to keep me alive. I just ate it, enjoying the sensation of eating.
I spent what seemed to be an eternity in the cell, alone in my thoughts. I wonder if Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie are enjoying themselves. I was separated from them back in June, and they made an attempt to retrieve me in August, but that was two months ago.
Then I wondered if they were even still alive. I mean, they might have gotten killed during one of their trips. They might have been captured by the Kromagg Dynasty. I mean, my last encounter with the kromaggs was just last month, and I barely got out of that place with my life.
Now is not the time to despair.
That thought sounded as if a voice were calling out to me from across the dimensional spectrum.
They are alive and well. They are still looking for you.
Well, I can't argue with a voice in my head. Was I going crazy? Was whatever made me unstuck is making me go insane? Did taht encounter I had with Rembrandt and Maggie in August just imagined.
Here, in this cell, the only reality was darkness and silence. There was no way to open the door.
Then the slot in the door opened, and I was served dinner, which was saltine crackers and water. I ate my dinner, and then I remained in my cell, with nothing to do or to look at. The cell was very effective in isolating me from the rest of the world. The Kromagg Dynasty couild be waging war on this world, and I would not have a clue about it.
Finally, the door opened. the light hurt my eyes, and I had to adjust. I saw a guard wearing a hockey mask in addition to the guaard uniform.
"Your time in this block is up, Mallory," said the guard. "You may leave."
I went up and looked outisde. It was already dark out! I must have spent more than ten hours in that cell! I was just glad to be out, to breathe the fresh air.
I was walking back to my cell block when I heard someone.
"Hello," he said. I recognized the voice; it was the same guy I got into a fight with earlier today, after my meeting with the priest.
"It would be unwise to resume the fight," I said.
"I just want to ask your forgiveness, Brother Colin," said the long-bearded man. "I should have remembered that you were on our side. You were framed, just as Jesus was framed."
"I take it you sympathize with the Sword of the Lord," I said.
"Yes, I met up with them four years ago. They opened my eyes to the truth."
"What did you learn from them?"
"I learned that the American Crown and the Christian churches are of the synagogue of Satan. They are like the Saduccees and Pharisees of Christ's day. They preach Christ and serve the Devil. They persecute true Christians, Christians like us."
"Were you sent to prison for being a Christian?"
"I am serving time here for insurance fraud," said the bearded fellow. "Before meeting with the Sword of the Lord, I was just living for myself and my sinful desires. Now I live for Christ, and if He wills it, I shall die for Him!"
"Do you trust these people?" I asked. "I mean, Jesus Himself said there would be false prophets and false teachers. Ye shall know them by their fruits, He said."
"The Sword of the Lord showed me who the false prophets and the false teachers are."
"Do you think I tried to kill the King?"
"We believe you have been framed by a Satanic conspiracy. The king just faked his injuries, and a CIA sharpshooter shot that lady who was with him. They then made it look like someone from the Sword of the Lord did it. The king, the media, the churches, and the FBI were all behind this. But let me say this. If you had shot and killed the king, true Christians like me would sing hymns in praise of your faithful service to Jesus Christ!"
"What is your name?" I asked.
"I am Brother Ryan," said the bearded fellow. "And you are free to call me Brother, for we are brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus! Tomorrow morning at breakfast, you may sit with us, rather than on the floor."
Then Ryan left, and I went back to my room. As usual, all the beds were taken.
"I saw you get into that fight with that Jesus freak," said this skinheaded man. "You sure kick ass."
"Can I get one of the beds?" I asked.
"Go sleep on the floor, Jesus freak."
So I did.
Just before I did, I wondered if my duplicate had been framed. One thing I learned is that things are not always what they seemed, and can lead in unexepcted directions.
I was woken up by the morning horn the next morning. The guards assigned by the cell block walked down the hallway.
"Here is your assigned work detail," said the guard. "You are all assigned to the prison garden. Report to the garden at 9:30 A.M."
That was about two hours from now. I decided to go eat breakfast.
It was certainly a change to actually sit on a mess hall bench as I ate my breakfast. These long-bearded men, whom the prison population dubbed Jesus freaks, all sit here.
"Welcome, Brother Colin," said Brother Ryan. "We are all graced by the presence of a servant of Jesus Christ."
"Uh, thank you," I said. "I'm just lucky to have a place to sit."
So I sat down as I ate my scrambled eggs. I heard stories from the other Swordsmen of the Lord, as they called themselves. Some of them had ben convicted of activities related to that group, others were converts who were sent here for unrelated federal crimes.
"So, Brother Colin, tell me about yourself," said Ryan.
"Well, I was born in San Francisco," I said.
"So you were born in the Pit of Satan," one of the Swordsmen said.
"If you say so," I said. "I started moving around, becoming an itinerant. I last lived in El Segundo."
"So that was where you were hiding out," said one of the Swordsmen. "Where were you when the king was shot?"
"What day was that?" I asked.
"I think it was on August 5, 1997," said Ryan.
"I was living in El Segundo at the time," I said, which was true.
"So it's true," said Ryan. "The FBI did frame you. They got that little traitor to lie to the court against you, just as the priests and rulers got two witnesses to lie against the Lord."
"I wonder where he is," I said.
"The FBI probably hid him somewhere in the country," said one of the Swordsmen. "But they can not hide from God! If he does not pay for his treachery in his life, he shall pay for it in the next life. There is no room in Heaven for cowards and traitors!"
"Truly, the FBI is an agent of Satan," said Ryan. "May God deliver his holy judgement upon this ungodly kingdom."
After finishing my breakfast, I went to the garden. Brother Ryan wen t with me, for he was in the same block, though not the same room, as I was.
There were three guards armed with truncheons. According to what I heard, the food grown here is given to homeless shelters. We were all given hoes by the guards.
"Well," I said to Ryan, "at least we're helping to feed the poor. That is what Jesus would want us to do."
He said nothing.
"Hey Jesus freak," my skinheaded roommate said to Ryan. "Why don't you go get a haircut. I could even cut your hair for you, make you look all pretty."
The other inmates laughed, as well as the three guards watching us. Ryan lifted up his hoe, looking at the skinheaded fool.
"No," I said to Ryan. "It's not worth it. Be joyful that you are worthy to suffer shame in the name of Christ."
So we started using our hoes to dig up weeds. And boy, where those weeds entrenched! I began sweating due to the labor. We lossened the soil, and picked up the various weeds, some of them thorned.The security horn rang once during our work detail, and we lied face down on the dirt for a whole minute. It reminded me of the parable told by Jesus concerning wheat and weeds, although I do not know if the Son of God used this parable in this dimension. Over all this hoeing, I must have sweated a gallon.
"All right," said one of the guards. "You are relieved now."
We all decided to take a shower before going to eat lunch. I felt the lukewarm water spray against my body. I remembered the time that Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie temporarily retrieved me while I was taking a shower. I hoped that they would wait until I was dressed before.
I noticed that Ryan was in the stall next to me. I held on to the soap, making sure not to drop it. I made sure not to look at any of the other men, or at least any part of them below the waist.
"Well, well," said the skinheaded man, whose voice I recognized. "Two Jesus freaks in the shower together. How touching."
"Yeah," said this big Negro man with a huge Afro. "Maybe they could make sweet love to each other."
I saw Ryan making his way to the two men. I put my hand on his shoulder to warn him not to engage in such foolish behavior.
"Ooh," said the skinheaded man. "The Jesus freak is touching his boyfriend. Here is something to get you two lovebirds started."
I saw a bar of soap bump at my feet. The skinheaded man already left.
I ate lunch at the Sword of the Lord table again. Today's lunch was hamburger.
"I should have struck that man," said Ryan. "How dare he insult a servant of Christ!"
"Just let it go," I said. "Fighting him would have only put you in that isolation cell, or worse."
I decided to go to the Internet to research the Sword of the Lord. The Google search popped up m,any hits.
I clicked on the first hit, and I got a message saying that acess to this page or server is forbidden by the guest. This must be a website that sympathizes with the Sword of the Lord.
Another link led me to a Department of Justice web page. It contained the FBI intelligence on the Sword of the Lord.
According to the web site, the Sword of the Lord was founded in 1992 by the Reverend Paul Hill, who claimed that America was na amoral, anti-Christian nation and the churches were traitors to Christ. He once had a radio show who he managed to weave various government acts into a satanic conspiracy. He actively urged the overthrow of the Crown and replacing it with a theocracy that would enforce Christian morality.
Mr. Hill went into hiding after his followers were implicated in bombings and assassinations in New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Cleveland. It was because of those bombings that the FBI put the Sword of the Lord on a terrorist watch list. They were implicated in the assasination attempt on King Leonard in 1997 and a bombing in Mexico last September where Pope Judas XXI was killed.
Then a voice on the speaker announced the visitation schedule. I heard my name.
I wonder who came to visit me.
I went to the visitee's room. It was adjoined to the visitor's room with a window. A guard was posted in the room
My visitor was none other than Quinn Mallory.
"Hello," I said, speaking through a phone.
"Hi, Colin," said Quinn. "How are you doing?"
"Well, I have food and shelter and running water," I said. "At least I won't starve to death in here."
"That's nice," he said.
"How are you doing?"
"Well, I'm in medical school, and I work as a waiter to pay my bills. I hope to get my doctorate next year."
"Why did you come here?"
"Well, you are my brother. I'm still in contact with your lawyer Mr. Kelly. He's submitted his brief to the Ninth Circuit. I am still wondering how you got mixed up with those people. I can not understand why you would associate with people who commit acts of terrorism while claiming Christ wills it. Katie didn't want to come along because she's still in shock over the events of the past two years."
"Do you think I tried to kill the king?"
"I don't know what to think, Colin."
"I am innocent of that crime. I can explain. Have you heard of parallel universes?"
"Physics was my hobby., but why are you discussing it? You said that physics was heresy, the teaching of the Devil."
"Well, when you shine a beam of light through a pair of slits in a barrier, it creates a pattern."
"Because of wave interference."
"Right. And when the light goes through one photon at a time, it makes this same pattern."
"You sure know a lot about science for someone who dismissed it as heresy."
"The reason these individual photons makes this pattern is because of interference with its counterparts from parallel universes."
"Why are you discussing this with me?"
"Because I am your brother's counterpart from another universe!" I shouted. "That is why I look the same, and have the same fingerprints and genetic code! I am in this prison while he is out there somewhere. I have this collar around my neck, set to explode if I leave this prison."
"So how did you get here?" asked Quinn. "Take the next flight to another universe?"
"There was an accident with a device," I said. "I keep traveling to other universes. In a few days, I will go to another universe. If I still have this collar on, it might explode!"
"Something is wrong here."
"Yeah, I'm serving time for a crime my duplicate here committed. Listen, I left a CD on your coffee table in your apartment. It is done by an artist called the Grandmaster C. That's one of my duplicates, Quinn."
"Katie was right," said Quinn. "I shouldn't have come." He then left withoiut saying goodbye.
"Excuse me," said the guard. "You will have to leave now."
So I did.
