Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything - Alaska Is Closer (Holy War part I of II)

Episode Date: December 22, 2015

As 2015 winds down we offer you a story about redemption, forgiveness and torture. When Margo’s husband is killed in a terrorist attack, she is given Ali Baba, a terrorist clone. This is how it works in Christian America in this piece of speculative fiction (although we like the term Sly-fi). Will Margo use her new Walmart deluxe torture kit? Or does she have a greater plan? Also your host declares war on God!

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Episodes every other week at neverpo.st and wherever you find pods. You are listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. This installment is called Holy War Part One. Margot got out of bed and poured her husband Albert a bowl of bran flakes. She could hear him in the other room, frantically stuffing underwear and legal documents into his duffel bag. It was already 5.15. Margot doubted he would make his 6 a.m. flight. He wasn't even dressed yet. She went to the refrigerator and took out the milk. Albert put on the phone headset and called the taxi service. Margot

cringed when she heard how much he offered to pay for an airport express. She doused the cereal with milk and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. But Albert didn't come into the kitchen. He just blew her a kiss on his way out. He didn't even close the door behind him. Three days later, Margot returned home from Albert's funeral, sat down at the kitchen table, and began to spoon these soggy bran flakes and spoiled milk into her mouth. But it wouldn't stay down. She sank to her knees and vomited it all up onto the floor. If she would have insisted that Albert eat the cereal before leaving for the airport, then he would have missed his flight, and then he wouldn't have been on a plane with a terrorist bomb on it,

and then she wouldn't be so utterly and completely alone. She prostrated herself on the floor, but she couldn't bring herself to pray. She was done with prayer. Prayer never brought back anyone. Not her mother, not her father, not even her little Annie. So from now on, it was going to be nothing but self-immolation. From now on, she would wear hair shirts. She would eat dog food. She would sleep on a bed of nails.

She would show God how worthy of his forgiveness she was. Margo stuck her tongue out into the mess of tears and vomit, but the smell was too much, and she started retching again. Perhaps President Huntington was right after all. He preached that God is never moved by the self-immolation of good Christians. According to President Huntington, it is only the blood of the infidel which is pleasing unto the Lord. The infidel. Margot jumped to her feet. She had completely forgotten. At three o'clock, they were going to be delivering her terrorist. Somehow, she completely put it out of her mind. She checked the clock over the stove.

It was already a quarter past one. Margot took out a mop from the closet and washed the floor. And then she did the dishes. Then she drew herself a bath. But just as she climbed into the water, the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock over the sink. It was now 2 p.m. She flicked on the intercom.

Who is it? It's Freddy, a husky female voice answered. Just a minute, Margo replied. I have to put some clothes on. Margo got out of the tub and dried herself off. She wrapped herself in a bathrobe and put on her slippers. As soon as she unlocked the door, Freddie thrust a poorly wrapped package into her hands. I got you a present, she said. Freddie was wearing a silver spandex jumpsuit that somehow straightened out her massive curves. She looked like a gigantic

walking refrigerator box. Thank you, Margo said softly. Sorry I didn't make it to the funeral, Freddy said. I missed the free shuttle out to the cemetery. And besides, I needed the time to get you your present. Margo realized she hadn't even noticed Freddie's absence at the funeral, but for certain her other co-workers did. She wondered if Paul or Norma would say anything. Not that anyone would be surprised. Using a funeral as a pretext for taking off work to go shopping was a quintessential Freddie thing to do. Well, what are you waiting for? Freddy said. Open it!

Margo unwrapped the purple tissue paper. It was a deluxe Walmart torture kit. Margo bit her lip. It was not a present. Have you got him yet? Freddy grunted. She stood on her toes and peered over Margo's shoulder into the house. No, Margo said. They're bringing him later this afternoon. You are so lucky, Freddy said. I mean,

not about your husband and all, but you know, it used to be that when you got killed by terrorists, all your friends and relatives would get an infidel clone to torture and kill. It's not fair. Yes, Margot nodded her head, but that was before the Great Recession. It's not fair, Freddie repeated. Then she launched into a speech about how, even though she'd never known Albert, it was still as if she had lost a family member too, being that she'd worked with Margot

at the government accounting office for so long. To keep from screaming, Margot read the contents of the torture kit to herself. Mace, nails, piano wire, spikes, rope, drill, circular saw, staple gun. Then, a large brown truck pulled up, and two government priests got out. They unlocked the back of the truck and pulled out a thin, dark-skinned man dressed in a white toga. He looked frightened and confused. His hands and feet were shackled, and as the two priests pushed him up the walk, he pitched and swayed. Freddy stopped talking.

She just stared greedily with her mouth hanging open. Which one of you is Margot Lynn, widow of Albert Lynn? One of the priests asked. I am, Margot replied. In accordance with the laws of Christian America, the priest said, we bring you, as recompense for your recent loss, this infidel. He is called Ali Baba, and he is yours to do with whatever you please. The priest then took Ali Baba into the house. The other priest had Margot sign the official forms and gave her a number to call when she was ready to have the remains hauled away.

That is, if there are any, he smiled. We understand total incineration is quite popular these days. The first priest returned from the house and gave Margo the key to the shackles. I locked him to the radiator in your basement, he said. Then the two priests drove off. As soon as they were gone, Freddie grabbed Margot by the wrist. Oh, Margot, please let me help you. It wouldn't be right of you to do it alone. You should do it with someone who cares about you.

Someone who cared about Albert. Someone like me. Margot yanked her arm free and stepped into the house. Thank you for the present, Freddie, but I don't want your help. This is a personal thing. I'm sure you understand. Then she slammed the door. It took Margo three hours to get up the courage

to go down into the basement. She brought with her the new Walmart torture kit and her Bible. Ali Baba was praying. At least, that's what it looked like to Margo. He was slumped next to the radiator with his legs crossed and his hands raised over his head, which he had buried in the crook of his arm. She pulled up a chair and waited for him to finish. But after a while, she realized that he was not praying, but was rather asleep. Since his hand shackles were locked to the top of the radiator, Ali Baba was locked into this strange position. When he woke, he opened his eyes and stared back at her without saying anything.

I want you to tell me why you did it, Margot said slowly, articulating every word. I want you to tell me why you had to blow up the airplane my husband was on. Ali Baba looked away. I'm sorry, he stuttered. I remember nothing. You don't remember anything at all? Margot asked. No, only the hospital lights.

But clones are supposed to retain their memories, Margot said. If that is so, then perhaps a mistake was made. The government doesn't make mistakes, Margot snapped back. They took your DNA from the wreckage of the airplane and cloned you. You are a terrorist. You were hiding in the baggage compartment. You killed my husband. I remember nothing, Ali Baba repeated. Margot realized that she'd never heard an Arab voice in person before, only on the telly and the government videos. What about your jihad, Margot asked. Do you remember anything about that?

I tell you, I remember nothing, Ali Baba said once again. He looked like he was ready to cry now. But if you like, he stuttered, I will tell you about the dream I was having. Ali Baba said once again. He looked like he was ready to cry now. But if you like, he stuttered, I will tell you about the dream I was having as I awoke. Tell me. There was a man who had committed 99 murders, Ali Baba said, shifting his weight around.

The man went to see the scholar of Allah. He asked, is there any chance of my being forgiven? The scholar said, No, you have committed too many crimes. So the man killed the scholar as well. But his heart was restless, so we went to another scholar and asked him the same question.

This time he was told yes, but only on the condition that he leave the wicked town and go to live in the next town in the company of good people. So the man set out for the town he was told to go to. But on the way, he died. A man passing by saw two angels arguing over his dead body. The angel from hell said, His body belongs to me, as he had not done any good in his life. But the angel from heaven said,

No, his body belongs to me, as he had repented and was on his way to be with good people. The man who was the passerby said, Let us measure the distance of his body from the town he left and the town he was going to. This was done, and he was found nearer to the town he was going to. So the man's soul departed with the angel of heaven. What does this mean? Margot asked. Ali Baba lowered his gaze again. I'm not certain.

Margot opened up her Bible. In the book of Matthew, she said, someone asked Jesus how many times we should forgive our fellow man. And he says 70 times 7 times. Some people believe that this means there is a limit to how much wrongdoing we have to take. Margot stared hard at Ali Baba, letting him know that it was not okay for him to avert his eyes again. Albert, my husband, believed that. Tears started to roll down her face. But even though every child knows that 70 times 7 is 490, she continued, I think what Jesus really meant by 70 times 7 was infinity.

Because back then, 490 was a gigantic number. Back then, they didn't have kilowatt light bulbs, 1,000-pound trucks, or 500-seat jumbo jet airplanes. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. Alibaba waited until she grew quiet. In my dream, he said, I was the man who desired forgiveness. Margo wiped her eyes, opened up the Walmart torture box, and took out the handheld circular saw. So, she asked, flicking on the switch, from right here then, in this basement, what do you think is closer, heaven or hell? The saw drowned out Ali Baba's reply, but Margo heard it just the same. Thank you. Three days later, Margo returned to work.

Her co-workers presented her with a gold-framed picture of Albert for her desk. Norma told her everyone in the office had chipped in, except for Freddie. Freddie was telling everybody that she'd already spent enough money on Margot. According to Paul, Freddie was even contemplating turning Margot in for the sin of ungratefulness. Margot's friends convinced her that it would be best to try and placate Freddie, just in case. So Margo walked over to Freddie's desk and thanked her once again for the Walmart torture kit. You could have at least brought me a body part or two, Freddie snorted. Well, you're in luck, Freddie, Margo lied. I haven't burned all the remains yet.

Freddy clasped her hands together. The testicles? Can I have the infidel's testicles? Okay, Margo nodded her head. I'll bring you them tomorrow. Excellent, Freddy shouted, slapping Margo on the back. So tell us, how it went? Did you like the torture kit? What did you enjoy the most, the clippers, the razor wire? It went very quickly, Margo replied. I just wanted it to be over. Freddie groaned. Well,

I hope you at least made it painful. The president would sure be upset if he found out some infidel died an easy death here in Christian America. Freddie turned and saluted the gigantic picture of President Samuel P. Huntington that hung on the office wall and crossed herself. Did I ever tell you about the time I got to send two infidels back to their stinking Allah? She asked. Paul and Norma suddenly remembered they had something to get from the other room. Everyone in the office, including Margo's, heard this story at least a hundred times.

Five years ago, Freddy went on anyway, a cousin of my niece's friend's cousin got shot by terrorists, and her family got two towel heads as recompense, and I got invited to the torture ceremony. Freddy's eyes glassed over, and beads of sweat emerged from the folds in her neck. First, we tortured them with saws and clippers. We sliced open their muscles and popped out their kneecaps. And then we shoved forks into their abdomens. Then we wrapped their heads with cloths soaked in kerosene. And as they burned, we had the little ones dance around them, shouting,

Jesus is better than all, Jesus is better than all. Jesus is better than all. It was a perfect execution of God's will, Freddie said, choking up. Then she turned and saluted the remains of Alibaba taken away. So what are you going to bring Freddy tomorrow, Paul asked. I don't know, Margo replied. I was hoping that one of you would have a suggestion. If only there were still peaches, Norma said sadly. Don't you think peach pits would have worked?

Yes, Margo said peach pits would have been brilliant. I have some canned peaches in my cellar, Paul said quietly. You do? Margo and Norma both shouted at the same time. Yes, and I believe they are whole peaches, too. You know, they used to take the pits out when they canned fruit, but the stuff I have is from when they were packing it in as fast as they could when they realized that the genetically modified food plague was going to wipe out all the fruit crops for good. I think I even have cans of bananas, too. Margo squeezed Paul's hand.

You are so wonderful and kind, Paul, but it's my fault for lying to Freddy in the first place. I can't have you waste your peaches for that. It's okay, Paul winked. I insist. I'll bring you two testicles tomorrow. When Margot returned home from work that evening, she grilled two Velveeta sandwiches and took them down to the basement. Ali Baba was so engrossed in his reading, he didn't even notice her come down the stairs. When she set the sandwiches on the table next in his reading, he didn't even notice her come down the stairs. When she set the sandwiches on the table next to his chair, he jumped up into the air and screeched like a

trapped mouse. Margot put her hand to her mouth and giggled. Ali Baba looked ridiculous in Albert's clothes. He looked like a child wearing his older brother's hand-me-downs. But still, there was something comforting seeing him dressed in Albert's sheepskin vest and green hunting cap. What are you reading? She asked. I am reading your Bible some more, Ali Baba replied. I was reading the book of Joshua. What do you think? Your God is very wicked, Ali Baba replied. He opened up the Bible and started to read. They utterly destroyed all that was in the city, both man and woman, young and old,

and ox and sheep and ass, with the edge of the sword. And they burnt the city with fire, and all that was therein, only the silver and the gold and the vessels of brass and iron, they put into the treasury of the house of the Lord. Joshua drew not his hand back until he had utterly destroyed all of the inhabitants. He left none remaining, but utterly destroyed all that breathed as the Lord God of Israel commanded. Ali Baba closed the book and scratched his neck.

I thought you told me that your God is love. He is, Margo replied. Well, some of the time. You need to read the New Testament. God is much nicer in the New Testament. Why is he not always the same? Ali Baba asked. Margo didn't say anything.

Ali Baba picked up one of these sandwiches and sniffed it. It's okay, Margo laughed. You can eat it. It's Velveeta. Alibaba took a small, careful bite. Thank you. You are very kind. Margo sat down on the sofa across from Ali Baba's chair. I put in the request for permission to go to Vermont today, she said. I made up a story that Vermont is where Albert and I first met when we were young and how it would help me end the grieving process if I could just go for a visit. My request is sure to be approved, maybe even by the end of next week. And by then, the insurance check will have arrived, so I'll have money to rent us the car. Explain to me again this plan, Ali Baba asked,

licking the crumbs from his fingers. Well, Margo replied, first we're going to rent a car. You're going to have to ride in the trunk, of course, but we're going to drive to Vermont. This is where the Alaskan secret underground railroad is. We're going to send you to the Republic of Alaska. Ali Baba picked up the other sandwich. Alaska is up north, Margot continued, above Canada. It's where all the heathens fled to when the war started. They formed their own country. They say it is the capital of world cosmopolitanism.

And what is that? Alibaba asked. Cosmopolitanism is where all kinds of people live together. People with different skin color, people with different religions, people with different sexual preferences, all kinds of people. And tell me again, why are you doing this for me? Because if we want God to be love all of the time, then we have to set him an example. Later that night, Margo studied the map that hung on the wall in the den. She measured the distance between the town of Medford, Massachusetts and Alaska. Then she measured the distance between Medford and the United States of Arabia.

Alaska was closer. She changed into her nightgown and stared at a reflection in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the lower part of her face was trembling. She did not look like a woman swimming in God's good graces. She watched the tears roll down her cheeks. It made no sense. Why was she still suffering so? She was doing a good deed. She was practicing forgiveness, the kind of forgiveness that Jesus taught in the Gospels. But yet, each step she took towards this forgiveness illuminated not the goodness or grace of God, but rather a vast

and empty void, a void in which she floated, silent and alone. And it was not the void of Albert's absence. Albert's death had merely opened up her eyes. It was a void that had always been and would always be. Margot turned out the lights and crawled into her bed. She could hear Ali Baba moving around in the basement. It was too dangerous for him to come upstairs. Albert had worked in the security ministry. There was a good chance that there were secret cameras in his office and in the living room. Of course, there could be cameras in the basement as well, but if that was the case, then the government priests would have already come for Ali Baba and herself.

There was already so much to worry about. Margot counted in her head the number of variables and uncertainties that lay stretched out before her like an obstacle course. Then she got out of bed and under the cover of darkness felt her way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. When she reached the basement stairs, she called out to Ali Baba in a soft voice so that she would not frighten him again. And then she started down the stairs. The next day, Margot gave Freddie the peach pits that Paul had brought for her. Freddie went nuts over them.

These really make my collection something, don't you think? Margot nodded her head politely. Freddy's desk was a veritable museum of human grizzle. Severed ears from when her grandfather fought in the Fourth Iraqi War. A foot that had been ripped off a suicide bomber's leg and bronzed. Scalps which hung from pushpins on her corkboard. And now, two peach pits she believed to be testicles. At lunch, Margo was unable to keep up with the conversation.

She found herself lingering on every word, savoring every gesture, committing every little thing to memory. Because soon, that's all Paul and Norma would be. Memories. For you see, Margo has decided to go to Alaska with Alibaba. Thank you. It is never an easy decision to decide to go to war. The inevitable loss of life and property cannot be taken lightly. But when one is confronted by an adversary so absolutely abominable, so decidedly despicable as the one who has amassed himself against us, well then there can be no other choice but war.

For our adversary threatens not only our freedom and our way of life, he threatens our very existence. Our adversary wants nothing more than our total annihilation. So tonight, my dear listeners, I am declaring war on our adversary. And I come before you in the hope that you will join me in this most righteous of crusades. For if it is to even enjoy the possibility of success, I'm going to need your help. You see, our adversary is very, very powerful. He is, in fact, the supreme being of the universe. Yes, my dear listeners, our adversary is God. He is, in fact, the supreme being of the universe.

Yes, my dear listeners, our adversary is God. Now, I know that some of you out there will find this disturbing. I can already see you shaking your heads, reaching for the radio dial, but please hear me out! You are not alone in your faith in God. Half this planet believes that God wants for us only eternal happiness and everlasting life. But it is time for you to wipe the mud from your eyes. Tonight, you must emerge from the darkness. God does not care about us.

Our cries for help, they only excite him. Our tears, they make him wet. Our pleas, God gets a hard-on from our pleas. Our pain tickles his erogenous zones. And our sufferings, our sufferings make him writhe in ecstasy. In your heart, you know I speak the truth. For if God was love, then there would be no death camps or gas chambers, no massacres or starvation, no rape or torture. If God was love, then he would long ago have put a stop to the carnage, the slaughter, the wholesale killing. Face it, God is one sick bastard. Our adversary, our enemy is God. And if we hope to defeat him, we must arm ourselves.

Not only with courage and resolution, but with firepower. For this is not a metaphorical crusade. We are not going to kill God with words, nor will we create a political system that simply leaves him out. No, this is the real thing. This is a crusade to take God's ass out for once and for all. We're going to storm the gates of heaven and then we're going to put all these seraphim and the little cherubs to the sword. We're going to mow down the heavenly hosts with automatic weapon fire. We're going to pull down the pearly gates and tear up the golden streets with tanks. We will not rest until God's body swings from our banner.

We will not rest until God's head sits atop one of our bayonets. Yes, my dear listeners, this is war. The war to end all wars. The most holiest of holy wars. And tonight, you must decide which side you want to fight for. Because this is a crusade to rid not only the heavens of God,

but the earth as well. I mean, let's face it, all of God's chosen people are assholes, and we crusaders must not stop until we've rooted every single last one of them out from our midst. There are only two choices. You can join this crusade, or you can be crusaded. Now, I'm of course aware that some of you out there in Listenerland may find this idea of holy war intriguing

even compelling, but still have some questions that you'd like to have answered. So I'd like now to open up the floor for your questions or comments. If you have a question or comment, please stand up and speak your piece. Hello? You, in the front row. What do you mean when you say God? Yes, God does have several names. Jehovah, Allah, Buddha, the Great Spirit, L. Ron Hubbard. But you must never forget that these are just aliases that he's assumed over the ages.

There is only one supreme being. And in the interest of keeping things simple, I vote we stick to referring to him as God. It's short, simple, and one syllable. Easy to remember. Hello? Yes, you on the left. You know, I really take issue with your earlier comment that all God's children are assholes. What are you, some sort of

anti-Semite? Oh, no, no. I am not an anti-Semite, nor am I an anti-Arab or anti-white Anglo-Saxon. I am simply anti- God. Next. Hello? Yes. Have you ever thought that maybe we humans aren't capable of understanding God's way?

I mean, I agree with you that all the suffering and the murdering in the world is bad, but maybe we just don't understand that this is all part of God's greater plan for us. What if I came over to your house and beat you black and blue with a hammer? And then, after tying you naked to your stove, rammed my penis into your rectum, all the while telling you that I loved you? And then, when I was finished, what if I untied you and told you

that you were just too stupid to understand my way and that I'd be back the following night to do it all over again? What would you do? Would you vacuum the house and have dinner ready for me when I showed up? Or would you wait quietly in the dark for my return with a loaded semi-automatic? Hello? Yes.

Yes, I agree with you that there's so much pain and suffering in this world, but I just don't think you can blame God for that. God gave us free will. If you wanted to, you can force us to be good, but then we'll just be robots. Free will is a good thing. But we're not the only ones with free will.

God also has free will. And when God hears our screams of pain and our cries for mercy, he has the ability to help us. And sometimes he chooses not to. But who would choose not to help a mother who is being forced to watch her child be gutted in front of her? Who would choose not to help a war orphan being gang raped by 30 soldiers. But I do agree with you that free will is a good thing. I'm glad I have free will, for I have freely chosen to launch this crusade. Thanks to free will, I can choose to go to heaven and kick God's sorry ass. Hello? One last question. Yeah, um, I just have one question. This all sounds really good to me.

I'm actually pretty excited about it. I'm just wondering, is there going to be any, like, you know, war booty? Oh, yeah. The spoils from this holy war are incredible. I'm imagining dollar denominations of at least 490 figures. But let's move on now to our plan of attack. It's my opinion that we should start off with a ground assault.

Perhaps two million... Hello? Okay, one more question, but this has to be the last one. We have tons of plans we need to get through. Um, I was just wondering if you've tried diplomacy at all. I mean, maybe there's a way that you could you know, make peace with God

and avoid war. Have you ever even thought about that? No. You have been listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. This installment is called Holy War Part 1. And if you go to Radiotopia.fm, you can find some of the other shows in the Radiotopia network.