Chapter 2: Sunday School

Author's Note: I'm going to save myself some trouble. I'll claim or disclaim things in the chapter they first appear in, and note things as they pop up. No repetitive disclaimers here. I'm innovative.

Also, if you feel uncomfortable with religious topics, you might not care for this story. I don't get preachy (I have more respect for my audience thanto try to win converts with a fanfic), but religious themes show up all throughout the story. I don't necessarily agree with the views expressed by the characters; sometimes I do, sometimes I don't, and it shouldn't makemuch of adifference in how I write. Just covering myself, so no one can get offended and say I'm preaching.

Disclaimer: I don't own the last names of Gelton, Raymond, or Pfeiffer. The first person to recognize them (Hint: The first comes out of left field, the last two have a source in common) gets a metaphorical cookie.

What I DO Own: Allegro/Needles, Gelton, and Cameron's father (when he shows up) are mine. Don't steal.

"Father Abraham,

Had many sons

Many sons had Father Abraham

I am one of them,

And so are you

So let's go praise the Lord!" - Sunday School song

75 A.F.

"...so, that's the book of Job. We've spent a month on it and I know some of you were about about to fall asleep by week three, but I hope you all got something out of it..."

The Sunday School teacher paused for a moment. Job was a hard book to teach to ten-year-olds, but he thought it might actually be harder to teach it to adults. The idea of God as a mystical Santa Claus type who would always shower them with blessings and keep them away from harm (if they were good) was precious to children, but it had already become concrete in adults who had held it their entire lives believing it. And the clergy had the nerve to wonder why some people blamed God for trouble and lost their faith when something bad happened. It was important to teach the children the truth. God loves you, but he won't give you a new bicycle that you can't afford, that sort of thing. Of course, Job had a happy ending, and that was good, because it taught them that God did want the best for everyone, even if He wasn't going to rearrange the cosmos to give everybody what they deserved. Now, if they had understood that, he was good.

"Let's all say something we learned," he said, hoping for a reaction. This was the moment of truth...

"I learned that God will make sure we all come out all right even if bad things happen, Mr. Bluesummers," said Cameron. Ten, and already devoloping facial hair. The teacher would have given a great deal to learn what the boy's parents were feeding him.

Well, his answer was a start, anyway.

"I learned that God doesn't ever abandon us," Isabel added. She was always a month short of being allowed into the next grade, so she was nearly a year older than everyone else. She was cocky, but Bluesummers thought the age difference probably accounted for some of it. Not all, but some of it. The rest came from being the only child of an indulgent father. Pfeiffer and his child were, the Sunday School teacher had decided, headed for a throttling. The only question was from who.

Melissa spoke up next. That was surprising, she was one of the quiet ones, and could usually be found hiding behind Isabel. But, God bless her, if she wanted to speak, Allegro T. Bluesummers would be happy to oblige.

"Job's friends were wrong, but God let them finish talking. He didn't interupt them. He..." she searched for the words. Finally she gave up. "I don't know how to say it."

"That's okay," said Allegro, " I think you've made a very good point. Anyone else?"

"Well," Matthew said, "Leviathan was a really cool way to show Job how much God had to do. And... I noticed that God forgave Job's friends after Job prayed for them."

"And what do you think of that?"

"I thought we each had to choose God for ourselves."

"Of course. And it's good that you're questioning things, because that helps you grow. You see, Job's friends did want to do better. But sometimes we need a little help, I guess. They might or might not have got into Heaven without Job. I don't know for sure, but did that help any?"

Matthew nodded.

Emilio just sat at the back of the class and stared at nothing. Allegro could not see but nevertheless felt the boy sulk, and nearly said something. Emilio was his best student, it was usually a pain to get him to shut up. Something was wrong.

Allegro, white cane in hand, tapped his way down the stone steps of the church toward the boy. There was no hesitation in his step, if not for the ever-present dark glasses and cane, no one would have recognized him as blind on first sight. Emilio, in fact, had thought the glasses were just a fashion statement until he asked his father how Mr. Bluesummers could see through them.

The boy stood off to one side while Joseph talked with a couple of his friends. Allegro recognized the voices. Pfeiffer Sweeney and Raymond Prufrock. Both okay people, if you ignored the one's annoying daughter and the other's tendency to be distracted by shiny objects. Bluesummers grinned. No wonder Emilio felt left out.

"How's the Globe coming?" he said.

Emilio looked up with a jolt. He was certain he had the world's stealthiest Sunday School teacher.

"It's going pretty well."

"And you're going to do Shakespeare in it?"

"Not just Shakespeare, but the first play is gonna be Macbeth, yeah."

"And Leonof gets the lead?"

"Of course, Mr. Bluesummers. He's perfect for it."

Allegro grimaced. "Look boy, I've told you a thousand times, call me Allegro. Or Needles. Or even (God forbid) Al. But "Mista Bluesummers" makes me sound like a really cheerful mobster."

Emilio laughed. "Okay Needles. How'd you get that nickname anyway?"

"For my pointed wit, and my use of a knuckle to the funnybone for people that annoy me. Fitting, huh?"

"Fitting."

"You were really quiet today Emilio."

"So?"

"Is there something you'd like to talk about? As one of your spiritual counselers, I'd be amiss if I didn't offer a sympathetic ear."

Emilio paused and thought about it for a moment.

"Mr. Blue - err, Needles?"

"Yes?"

"One thing bothers me about the book of Job. At the very beginning. I thought it would be explained before the end, but it wasn't."

"What is that?"

"Why is Satan in Heaven?"

"Now you're thinking, kid," Allegro replied. He did not put his hand on the boy's shoulder or affectionately ruffle his hair. He was trying to help Emilio, not make him feel like a dog. For that matter, there were many dogs that he would not patronize in such a manner.

"Well, why?"

"Emilio, that's the ten-million double-dollar question. If I could answer that, I wouldn't be teaching Sunday School. I'd be God."

"So I just have to pretend like it doesn't matter? Why doesn't God just... smite him, or something?"

"The common explanation is that if God smote Satan, everyone would serve God, but only out of fear. That help any?"

"...a little." Emilio said. He didn't sound convinced.

"Doesn't help me a lot either," Allegro responded, "But I'll tell you what I think. Remember Leviathan?"

"Yeah."

"When God was talking about defeating Leviathan, He was asking Job to do something that He did daily."

"Defeat... evil?"

"Bingo. Of course, you could take Leviathan literally, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, notice how God talks about Leviathan. Like He has a great deal of work to do to beat him."

"God can't smite Satan?"

"I'm certain He could, but what then? Smite everyone who sins? Even if God were to start with the fallen angels and work his way down, we'd all be dead by next Thursday."

Emilio laughed. This cheered Needles up. For a moment he'd thought the boy was doomed to a life of philosophy (in this sense, the science of knowing too much for one's own good).

"Don't worry about it Emilio," Allegro said, grinning, "Everyone will get theirs in the end. Until then..."

"God's gonna keep out of it? Hey, that explains why he didn't smack Job's friends. But then..."

"Yes?"

"Job's friends got another chance. Does that mean that there's a last chance on Judgement Day?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Hey, when will the Globe have its first show?"

"Next month if I get it done on time. Why?"

"Because I have a present for you. Don't tell anyone," he rumaged through a large sack containing his Bible and other study materials. "Well, you'll have to tell Matthew and Galpez if they're helping you put the show on, and there's no reason not to tell your parents, but don't tell anyone else, because then everyone else in the class will be jealous." He pulled out a particularly thick leather-bound book. Allegro was proud of this book. It was just a copy he'd had printed from his original, but it was still priceless. It represented life. Civilization. Culture. Nobility. And if mankind could make a copy of this book, then maybe, just maybe, it could make something out of this desert planet. Giving it to the kid represented driving back the darkness, not going gentle into the good night, and spitting in the death angel's face. It was that important.

"Hey, The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare! Thanks!"

It was also nice to be appreciated. Allegro slunk off, grinning.

"You gave him The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare?" Gelton asked him when they arrived home. "That kid's gonna be screwed up. I can feel it."

Needles ignored him. Their working arrangement was very simple; in return for a steady income and a sense of purpose, the 7' 2" behemoth lived with the blind man, guided him through unfamiliar places, and cooked for him, something Allegro was unable to do despite his self-suficiency in other areas. Some of the visually handicapped had seeing-eye dogs. Needles had a seeing-eye housekeeper.

They had been good friends well before Allegro had lost his sight in what he refered to publicly as "an unfortunate job-related accident" and privately as "that bastard's claw came out of nowhere." Their relationship hadn't changed much, except for Allegro's newfound dependence on someone else to manage a skillet.

If Gelton Kojiro looked like Needles remembered him (and there was no reason for him not to) then in addition to being tall, he was also muscular, with dark eyes and long black hair. Allegro had never seen a picture of Jesus, but he imagined that if his object of worship was more than a foot taller than usually depicted and built like Adonis, the result would be, if not Gelton, than at least his cousin.

"Hello Needles, Gunsmoke to Needles, your position on the fifth moon is perilious, abort the mission immeadiately!"

Needles looked in the direction of the voice with a start. He hadn't realized his mind was wandering.

"What did you say?"

"I asked if you thought it was even slightly creepy that the kid has names for all ten of his puppets, and particular parts that each one can play... and Leonof always gets the lead, unless it's a female lead, in which case Leonof gets the most important male part?" He paused to get a breath, than realized something.

"Oh God, now I'm refering to it by name!"

"Calm down, Gelton, the boy is going through a phase. An eccentric phase to be sure, but there are much worse things than eccentric, as we both know."

"That's what I'm talking about Needles. Remember Staccato at the end?"

"Is my hair still blue? But Thrall was a special case. How dare you compare a child's hobby to my warped sibling's schizophrenia!"

"I don't like seeing people hurt when a "special case" snaps. Remember your other brother? The one that was laying in a pool of his own blood while Thrall did a happy dance? Staccato was eating your twin's arm, Needles! Does that affect you at all!"

"Of course it does," Allegro replied quietly, "I still have nightmares about it. But you're being paranoid. Not everyone who talks to themselves is a psychopath. Emilio's found something be likes. And if doesn't pass, than he has a brilliant career as a showman ahead of him." That was most definitely true. Emilio had taken to puppeteering like Beethoven had taken to piano.

Gelton stared at nothing for a moment.

"Alright, you're absolutely right, I'm being paranoid. We've all got our psychological scars. But... a ten year old reading Shakespeare?"

"You're just jealous because you were still mastering 'See Spot Run' at that age."

"I oughta walk you into a wall."

"Dad, look what Mr. Bluesummers gave me!"

Joseph stared at the book. Gunsmoke's inhabitants had not reverted so far that they had lost the printing press, but someone who would just give away a leather-bound copy of Shakespeare? The man was mad. Generous, but mad.

"Isn't it cool?" continued Emilio, oblivious to his father's bulging eyes.

"It's great," Joseph managed.

"I'm gonna go read 'Hamlet'!" With that, the boy leapt away.

Joseph continued to stare. He wondered if giving his son that copy of Macbeth had been such a good idea. When Emilio had turned out to be a natural puppeteer, Joseph had decided to encourage the hobby. This had simply involved buying him a few more puppets, giving him a couple of plays for inspiration, and turning him loose. And now Emilio had recruited half of the kids in his neighborhood to help him build "The Globe," a puppet-theatre homage to William Shakespeare. Galpez and Matthew had both been drafted to help when there were more than two marionettes on stage at once, and Isabel was trying her best to learn the craft. According to Emilio, she'd be ready to help out in the shows in time for the The Globe's opening. Another friend, Cameron, was getting his dad to provide them with tools and materials. Even Melissa, Isabel's terminally shy best friend, would be helping by making scenery. Several adults, including Cameron's father and two friends of the mad Sunday School teacher, were supervising and helping to lift the concrete blocks that would serve as a stage in a world where wood was a scarcity.

He had no idea how Emilio had organized this, but surely enough he had. Construction on the thing only took place when the adults could get together, once or twice a week, but even so... it was coming along nicely. And the adults were the only ones lifting heavy or sharp objects. He couldn't explain the bad feeling he had whenever he looked at the thing. Except...

Except he could explain some of it. Twice, he had seen a shirtless man wearing what looked the bottom half of a red trenchcoat, watching the proceedings. It wasn't like the man had been leering at one of the children with a predatory grin; he'd just been leaning against a post, watching with a half-interested eye. Both sightings had been at about the time of day people were getting off work, so maybe he was just pausing in his walk home to see what was going on. It was plausible.

But going shirtless was not something done lightly on Gunsmoke. Contrary to popular opinion, the twin suns had little to do with the planet's desertification; any planet too hot for oceans to exist would almost certainly boil humans alive in their own blood. Most regions of the desert planet, with the exceptions of the arctic and equatorial regions, mantained an average temperature of eighty degrees Fahrenheit. The lack of oceans was due to unfortunate geography that had put most of the water in underground reseviors. Even so... there were two suns. Skin cancer, which had nearly been cured before humanity left Earth, was now the third highest killer among the deadly diseases. At the very least, anyone who spent more than fifteen minutes sunbathing would certainly be severely sunburned.

So what kind of person walked home shirtless? And the man wasn't even pink! He had a nice tan, which didn't look painful at all. It was weird. The next time he saw the man (If there is a next time, he thought, rather hopefully), he would say something. Something stern. Forbidding. "Why don't you go home and get a shirt before coming to stare at people?" might work.

Possibly.

"Gelton." Allegro's voice was soft, but carried very well.

"Yes?"

"Write up an invitation. For the boy and his parents. I want to meet the parents."

Gelton was acquainted with that tone of voice, and didn't like it. It usually didn't bode well.

"You haven't met Joseph? The baker?"

"In church. Not an ideal place to find out what they're really like. Ideally, to find out what someone truly is you must observe them while they are alone. But if that is not possible..."

"Then put them off balance, see how they act in unfamiliar places, situations, etc... And you think they'll be themselves in your house?"

"Of course not. But if you're lost in the woods, and you have a compass that points south instead of north, you don't throw it away..."

"For when?"

"Next Tuesday. They'll be free."

Gelton wrote the invitation.

PREVIEW:

Joseph: A haunted man has invited my family to dinner. His house is filled with pictures he can no longer see. From his easy chair, he has an aura of command, but his face looks weary and used up. He speaks of God to my son, and his sincerity is undoubtable, but the cheerful grin he favors his students with doesn't seem cheerful at second glance. I like him regardless. Whatever inner demons gnaw him, he is fighting them, and hopefully winning. Perhaps I can help by having...

NEXT CHAPTER: Dinner with Needles