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Let There Be Light

Copyright © Wolf Sherman. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronically, electrostatic magnetic tape or mechanically; including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author. Although this is a fictional work, both the locations, organisations and events are factual. The characters and times in the story line are fictional; therefore, all resemblances to actual people present or past are purely coincidental.

Synopsis



Prequel to the published The Reaper's Design, by Wolf Sherman.



"Let there be light" is a phrase, familiar to all. It is commonly accepted that this English translation was derived from the Hebrew יְהִי אוֹר‬ that can be traced in Genesis 1:3 of the Torah, the first part of the Hebrew Bible. In Old Testament translations of the phrase, translations include the Greek phrase γενηθήτω φῶς (genēthētō phōs) and the Latin phrase Fiat lux.

Prologue



"Is this line clockwise, Sister?"



"Indeed, it is"



"Fiat Lux, Sister"



"Fiat Lux, Brother"



"Have you a name, Sister?"



"I have. Have you, Brother?"



"I have"



"May I ask for your name so that we can continue this conversation in a civil manner, Sister?"



"You may"



"What is it, Sister?"



"No. I shall not let you have it. Not yet"



"Am I to share a secret before demanding one, Sister?"



"Yes"



"I am David, but I care not for the worldly record of who I was before I had joined the Order"



"I am Uriel, but unlike you, I do not have to care for the worldly record of who I was before I had joined the Order. As I'm old and never had a worldly record. Have you met one like me in person, David?"



"I have only read of your kind. And sadly, have not had such a privilege. If indeed I have met your kind in person, it was not revealed to me, Uriel"



"If you had, would you keep and protect this secret with your blood? Even if it meant that your blood be let? Even if you are forced to watch it flow, David?"



"My blood had been let. Once, but once was sufficient to seal my obligation to the Order, Uriel"



"Pleased to meet you, Brother David"



"Likewise, Sister Uriel"



"Good. How can the Order be of assistance to your needs, Brother David?"



"I have in my possession something of interest to me. I had already stored something in the world above, but it had been an irksome experience. I was let down severely. I'd like to arrange for storage after the meeting. Permanent, or until such time as the Order need to dispose of it in a fitting way, Sister Uriel"



"Most certainly, Brother. Do you know when we next meet?"



"I follow the Moon, and had calculated that it must be this evening, Sister"



"Is the item heavier than a man, and or larger than a man, Brother David?"



"The item is not heavier than a man, nor is it larger than a man, Sister Uriel"



"Would the item be stored under LIVING or DEAD; if LIVING - would it be in need of nursing, feeding, or any form or medical attention; or DEAD, would it need to be powered up on occasion for when you will collect, Brother David?"



"The item, with your permission, shall be stored under DEAD. It would not need to be powered up, Sister Uriel"



"You do of course not have to answer this, but to correctly store the item, would you divulge what it is and what it does? Also, who had asked this first when our world and the world above were one world, Brother David?"



"You have left the most important of your three enquiries for last, however I will attend to this one first. It was Marcus Aurelius. As for the rest, the first is my last Will and Testament, as I fear for my life. The second is a single page that I stole. It implicates a number of companies who work for darkness, Sister. I would want my last Will and Testament be delivered to my family, upon my death or immediately thereafter; and the page that I am referring to, to be either investigated by the Order, and to be acted upon as the Order deems fit, upon my arrest, or death, as result, or even immediately when I will hand this over for storage, Sister Uriel"



"It shall be so. Looking forward to meeting you, Brother"



"Likewise, Sister"

Chapter 1



Five years before.



"Press P2 twice. It shall disable all the other floors. You'll be able to get straight out without any interruptions. Thank you for all you've done. And, I'm sure that I speak on behalf of all members"



"It's my pleasure. Who will look after him when I'm away? Someone capable? Obviously? I mean, till he reaches Prague. I'll take over from who had been appointed? If that carries your approval, of course?"



"Naturally. But at the rate things are progressing, I'd estimate a five-year period. But we'll still see you this evening will we not? We can talk then. Unless, are you in a hurry to the East Coast?"



"I'll be back tonight. I need to greet him as one of us...He should know. It feels necessary. If... well, let's see"



"By the way. Do you realise who he reminds me of...?"



"I do"



"Is, it possible? You know what it is that I am reading into this?"



"It's a strange world with strange rules. You should know this more than our kind?"

Chapter 2



Current date.



Like birth, his and ones like David, had started their secretive lives early after the age of twenty-one. Life had its origin in mind-numbing pain and general discomfort. And what had started with pain, sometimes ends with pain. Only for David, he was much better prepared.



He couldn't tell. And that, was unsettling.



The overwhelming sleepy feeling came suddenly; and although the pain he had experienced just moments before was fast becoming unbearable, the heaviest feeling ever, overtook that; forcing his eyelids closed. Whether he was going into shock, or that it actually was his life force draining away - was impossible for him to determine; thanks to the state he was in. He would not know of others, but in 'his' instance, it was an unanticipated change in the course that the Order had set out on. He always wondered about morbid things, but never thought of them as morbid, and he never was quite sure who was to blame for it. Maybe his grandfather. It wasn't normal for kids to wonder what their last thought would be, nor to carry with them secrets that lay heavy on their hearts, and have been reserved for the dark. These were clothed in a velvety black charcoal, kept below, away from what had passed for everyday reality for the new world. Then again, the new world had already celebrated by blowing out its two-thousand-and thirteenth birthday candle. It was December.

Chapter 3



"Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard" - Haruki Murakami



"Yet...", the boy carried on reading, "...it was in a sense still a new world. In order for light, to carry on an ancient desire to reach out, to protect what little good still warranted it so, it had become prudent that the light be birthed in the dark. In the occult realms" The boy had read it over and over. It only made less sense every time he tried. The bottom stairs creaked, reminding him it was time. The small book clapped as he slammed it closed and he darted for the corner where the old black and white photo of a coffee shop, experienced its typical sideways swing on the thin copper wire that attached it to the nail on the wood clad study wall. The eight-day old pushed the book back into the darkness and pulled his arm back into the light. Only after sliding the loose wooden panel down; back where it belonged, did he let go of the old photo. It swung down anticlockwise from its 9 o'clock position slightly past its rightful place, that would have been 6 o'clock, causing him to move it two centimetres to the left. After retreating two - what he regarded as grown-ups steps, he inspected his own secret work. "I am satisfied" The boy told himself. As out of character as what it was for an eight years old, that should really have been playing outside; throwing a stick towards the barn to see if Lucifer would fetch it. Not that he would. Lucifer didn't play fetch. But that's what young boys should be doing. According to Dad; and not only hang around granddad's library and study where it was old and dusty and smelt like chalk.



Lucifer was always up before sunrise and would sit at the kitchen door, staring at the handle. Granddad said that if you could be calm and patient you could make anything happen. But you need to add time into the mix. "Sometimes a day, or a week, or even the long wait between two full moons" That was what granddad said. "Like Lucifer. He sits over by the door seven days out of seven. Early. And he's right too. Seven times out of seven" His granddad took a sip from the steamy mug, put it down on the rough wooden table, and turned the mug ninety-degrees clockwise. He waited for David to argue the point. "Granddad, if I may attempt to correct you (by now his grandfather was crying with laughter on the inside at the boy's choice of words. Which made him wonder what else he'd been up to in his library and study), if you didn't walk around the house and came from the outside and open it, the door would not open; meaning, and please correct me if I'm wrong, Lucifer would sit there waiting, many hours, or forever, and that door would not open" Young David moved his coffee mug ninety-degrees clockwise, exactly in the position his grandfather had moved his'; with the ear of the mug facing the stove; before he too sipped from his mug. "You make a good case young David" and he turned his mug another quarter revolution clockwise. "Thank you for your kind comment granddad" And the boy again did the same with his mug. Every time one had spoken and finished, the mug was turned, indicating he'd finished, allowing the other the opportunity to speak. "But the point is that Lucifer believes in magic" The old man turned the mug. "I see. Based on?" Young David kept to the rules of politeness, and moved his mug again, clockwise ninety-degrees. "He's convinced that he has special powers. So let's not talk too loud and spoil it for him, shall we?" The old man smiled and moved his mug ninety-degrees clockwise once more. "So your argument of Lucifer, granddad, applying calm and patience, and that he allows for time, to perform what he perceives as magic, it... is it not merely luck? What if one day you sleep late, or forget?" David's cup moved. "Then my boy, you or someone else will, I hope, open the door for Lucifer. Or, Lucifer will figure out that there is also a front door, standing wide open. It will take time, but if you really want to get to the reward or whatever it is on the other side of this wall, you'll figure it out" And as usual, the old man's mug went a quarter turn in the only direction there had been - according to the rules of coffee, coffee shops and polite company. "And what is on the other side of this wall at that early hour for a dog? My apologies, for Lucifer? Apologies for that Lucifer. Didn't mean it like that" David's mug moved and he winked over at Lucifer who sat upright on a kitchen chair, alternating his gaze between the peculiar moving mugs every time someone had something to say; and licking his lips, just in case he was going to get involved at some stage. "Oh Lucifer has figured out a miracle in this life that both science and religion have missed. It's old. Ancient actually" And Lucifer was staring at the old man's mug, waiting. But it didn't. Nothing. David frowned over at his granddad, wondering what the matter was. Then heard a car door close outside. With that the old man's mug shifted fast and he lifted his bushy old grey brows while making his eyes bigger - than normal - as if to say "Hurry with a question, if you have one", "And what is that they both miss granddad?" And the boy's mug shifted faster than usual. "The warm, pure, life-giving miracle, that is a new and wondrous sunrise. Every day. It's indifferent to who we are or how we feel. And we all get one. Isn't that a miracle?" Suddenly the old man's mug moved in the opposite direction, ninety-degrees anticlockwise. The end of the conversation as someone not part of the present company was about to join. Outside in the hallway the floorboards creaked before the inner kitchen door swung open. "Morning dad, morning David" David's father had arrived to fetch him. Annoyingly announcing the end of the weekend visit, but as always he was overjoyed to see his father's happy smile. "Oh, is that how it is. Don't I feel welcome?" David's dad pointed over to the two mugs that Lucifer was still staring at. Waiting. The chuckle that three generations of souls shared lasted almost five minutes, with David's dad taking a sip from the old man's coffee without permission and after downing David's mug, turned his' upside down. "You see why we have rules David? Did you notice the rudeness hurled at the harmonious we enjoyed?" Smiling at both David and his father. "Is granddad there already? At the upside down cup son; or must he still teach you that?" The laughter only grew louder as David wanted to know, "You mean how to finish your loved one's coffee, so they have to struggle their way through a dry ginger biscuit? No, dad, I don't believe he has dad. But, what are you talking about dad?" Winning over his granddad as before with a wink to say "Your secret is mine to hold, but not to share".



At school on Monday David sat in class early. Like Lucifer, ready before anyone else, waiting. As the classroom filled up and his teacher later joined, he studied the small faces and made mental notes. He put them in groups ranging from the bullies, the reserved and slightly shy ones, and the ones who were always eager to impress his teacher with an apple, or running some or other errant as if there was some sort of fun in doing so. David in later grades could tell exactly who had problems at home and took it out on others, and who had even worse problems and became so withdrawn that it impacted on their ability to focus on learning. He was a friend to all and everyone liked him. Especially the bullies. For them, he had asked at home that extra sandwiches be packed and sweets. "I sometimes bring sweets for my friends. Are you a friend?" He'd ask. The sweets bought them; distracting them to go on their merry way - keeping them occupied and away from taking other kids' food, and the extra food he'd brought was given to his teacher, with a condition. Whoever hadn't brought food to school, could never know it was from him. There was ever only one bully who ruled the other bullies, so that worked out fine. And ever only two hungry kids in a class, so that too worked out fine. Often he'd be the hungry one as his own sandwich was sacrificed when he didn't remind his mom to pack another. He figured out before the teachers did, that the kids who were either rowdy or lethargic, didn't have enough to eat at home. And in some cases, that those were the bullies. Studying people, and what made them tick - became a hobby that grew into a strategy that made him a top negotiator in his field. After all, life was a game of 'give' and 'take', and how to handle others who 'took' and 'gave'. There was a difference.

Chapter 4



"It commenced with the peculiar sound of a long blade drawn from a sheath. It was unmistakable, it instilled a great measure of fear, and it's not easy to forget..." Covered in a coldness, he may have voiced it out loud, but in all likelihood he was wrestling with this as a thought - as he fought the haze. The haze had been the veil into life, as much as the haze was the veil, on the way out - back into the abyss of nothingness, where old souls told new souls of life. Encouraging them too, that they line up at the haze, and wait for the pain that is life, and that they would initially not comprehend - but that they would come to love so dearly, that they would do anything not to return through the haze, back to the always waiting and ready; nothingness. Beyond the haze; as the Order had been instructed for aeons, were souls who would be welcomed again, and again, into eternity, to tell of life, and what life was, on earth, in other realities, and beyond distant long dead stars where no one had reported back from, yet.



He entered the haze, looked back, and looked over at his body and dove back into it. He knew it was going to hurt like nothing he'd experienced, but he was never ready to leave. Not like this, not without a fight. Not before greeting his dear ones. Once more. So he tried again.



*** *** ***



He stopped at the traffic lights and looked into the rear-view mirror, then, eyeing his watch, cast his eyes left and right out through the front windows, and lastly faced the front through the windscreen again. As he did, he followed the larger droplets that formed and grew as dozens of tiny dots accumulated, running long streaks down to the bottom towards where the wipers were patiently waiting. A fine spray had started to form on the windscreen a minute ago; not enough to compromise his view further ahead, but since it was dark, and he was lost, he flipped the wiper switch, as a precaution. The traffic lights sat high on the poles; much higher than what he had grown accustomed to back home. He pushed the engine into first gear and waited. The lights turned green, as if the wipers had swiped the reddish hazy reflection off and away from the car; and the playful water droplets with it - clearing their playground for a next round; where others too would get a turn at a brief existence; and he pulled off as he briefly glanced in the mirror, and adjusted his tie.

Chapter 5



"Initiate!" Her voice carried with it a sense of command over across the subterranean temple, that he was not used to, not even if she had a deeper voice. Or had it been a base male voice, and he tried focusing on her every syllable. There was something mesmerising about her voice, familiar too. But his nervous state and the forever echo drowned the need to know whether they have met or not. He waited for the echo to arrive back again, together with the second and the third and each one thereafter. If it wasn't for the peculiar echo bouncing off the walls, he thought that her voice would be right at home in a Court room; passing a long deliberated judgement.


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