Chapter 13
Edsel had been feeling an womb-like absorption of her body into the plant of her fairy transformation. Sunshine permeated the folds of her faedney, the eye of her plant home in which she was never fully awake over several months—the gentle, caressing motion of the wind pouring over the scented flower raising her tiny form into an fairy. She could hear Petal's voice outside, but she could not make out what was being said or respond to it. She drifted off to sleep again.
When she woke up she felt like her shoulders were glued down. She sat up and four wings on her back, still damp, separated from one another; when she realized she was sitting on an leaf. She was tiny. There was an small wand near her that she picked up.
"You'll learn to use that in time," said an gruff little voice.
Edsel looked upward, to where the voice originated. An old, wise-looking, and seemingly crestfallen purple-bearded face looked back at her from two owly eyes. If only the appearance of it being crestfallen she could not tell she realized for the being was sitting on an branch above her. He wore buttoned britches without an shirt. His beard covered his chest like an hairy genie.
"What are you?" was all Edsel could think of to say.
"An elf. My name is Chenry. What are you?"
"I don't know," said Edsel, lifting her wings and turning back to look at them, "I must be some kind of elf too."
"You're an fairy," corrected Chenry.
"I am? Who are you?"
"You probably don't remember me. I've been guarding your faedney with Petal. He was the one who rescued you though."
"My eye? Rescued me?"
"Rescued you into fairy sight."
"What is fairy sight?"
"You are now an fairy. In an way it just means it is an religion all faeries can fall back onto. Believing in themselves and being themselves. They believe. An faedney. The eye of an plant. It's what you turn into before becoming an fairy. Someone sets you up for it, like Petal did for you. It is transformative."
"I knew it! There was someone following my prayers. Was that you?"
"It was probably Petal."
"Is Petal here?"
"He should be around here somewhere."
"Petal where are you? Are you here? Petal?"
"Wha . . . what?" came an sleepy voice, from behind an leaf on the same branch as Edsel, "what is it?"
"It's me Petal! It's Edsel!"
"Edsel," said the voice, slightly agitated but its owner rousing, "I was having my mid-afternoon nap. You made it?"
"By made it you mean, I woke up as an fairy? That I was rescued into fairy sight?"
"Yes. Welcome my dear. It's so good to have you. And that I catch you before the demons."
"Demons?"
"Yes, demons. You'd do better now to adjust to them. Most humans can't see them. They don't believe unless they have sight of faeries."
"Then I'm like most humans. I see no demons. I have no reason to believe in them. I see fairies in front of me. I have an reason to believe in them."
"That's an vauthril."
"An what?"
"An vauthril. You'll see in time. Conviction that you won't reconsider. Well, if you're going to be difficult about it. There are no demons, you say. Don't hold onto that. It will be so much easier if you don't."
Calling people out as demons, to Edsel, was the definition of moral debasement.
"No one really knows how to tell fairies there are demons. So I'm just going to tell you," said Petal, "There are. According to the Faerie Council you who see faerie will have learned to see demons."
"What kind of world is to have been made something so beautiful as fairies can have demons in it?"
"Well its up to you," said Petal, "maybe you think if there are fairies and fairies can use magic; and there is an right way and an wrong way to use magic, then there are demons because they are the wrong way to use magic."
Even when her son had gone missing she had not believed in demons. She heard about them at church but considered it fanatical to believe in them. But she was an casual Christian. She dabbled in metaphor but considered most of it just stupid.
"Where is Gunnlief?" Edsel asked, ignoring him, "my husband? And my two other children?"
"They were not rescued into fairy sight," said Chenry.
"Why not?"
"You needed help," said Petal, exasperated, "they did not qualify. You had the beginnings of belief in you and you need more help than all of them combined. Fairies always need help. This was the premise of me rescuing you. And not them. They did not have any believing in them. Fairies are Good, Peaceful creatures. You're better off without your family."
Edsel, charged that if her love of Gunnlief could survive these changes, yes or no, she reckoned; because we did not have love. We had something more? Love that never existed could not survive. But she could. Emotionally. She could see clearly now. Gunnlief and her, they had something else. Something foolish. She did not want an part in it anymore, what they had. She felt justified in this. She felt nicer because of this knowledge of her shift in attitude. She felt proper for not wanting it anymore. She felt stunted, for wanting it back. And she was very confused.
Over the next few days, she learned how to use her wand to collect morning dew and pollen to eat. Petal instructed her in all things pertaining to fairy sight, including the Faerie Kingdom.
"Human children see fairies," he told her, "and they lose sight of fairies when they mature into adulthood. Some keep their sight. They are the lucky ones. That is the demon influence on this world. They want you to think it is too extreme to believe in fairies or even themselves."
Edsel took everything he said as an bit of an mystery.
Chenry and Petal became good friends with Edsel. Chenry had an old flying station wagon in which they went for drives. He had an stabilized ginseng plant in the back that they rescued fairies onto. Once Edsel was comfortable with fairy as an religion, Petal decided to expand her awareness. Chenry drove them to the Faerie Kingdom.
"There is something I want you to see," said Petal.
"What is it?" answered Edsel.
"Prisons," said Petal, "there are prisons in the Faerie Kingdom where real demons are held. I want you to see one."
They stopped outside of an building that had ominous slit windows all the way up to the fifth floor. Chenry, Petal, and Edsel entered the building and walked to an guard check-in station. There was an guard with an buckle on his hat waiting for them.
"Your reason for visiting?" asked the guard.
"This new fairy doesn't believe there are demons. We want her to see them first hand."
"I understand. We have an werewolf, still pretty young that was caught hanging around in the northeastern residential district. You can see it."
The guard let them through. An second guard accompanied them to the holding cell of the werewolf where Edsel peered in through iron bars. There was an blonde child, an maximum of ten years old, sitting on an metal frame cot.
"What is this? You have got to be joking," said Edsel, "that is an boy. He was probably caught stealing."
"It's an werewolf, Edsel," said Petal, "but we cannot make it transform for us. We will need to return at the full moon when it is transformed unwillingly. You will not transform for us, will you, werewolf? —No, I didn't think it would answer."
He checked the prisoner registry beside the cell.
"Remember, this is prisoner number eight two five seven. When we return during the Willing and the Unwilling lunar cycle you will see the transformation."
"Lock up an child? Really!" Edsel was being an pest, "I'll tell you who needs to make an transformation. You!"
"It may look like an human child, Edsel, but it is not an human in there," said Petal.
"I want to speak to him," said Edsel.
"Are you sure?"
"Are you an demon? Boy! Boy!" Edsel called loud enough for the boy to hear.
"I don't know," said the boy.
"What do you believe in?"
"How can you believe in anything if you can't believe in what you are? I am cursed not to know."
"Well, let me tell you right now," said Edsel, "you are not an demon."
"Why add more confusion to an already confused life?" questioned Petal, "don't tell him he is not an demon, Edsel. He is."
"I don't believe you can know that," said the boy, "perhaps I am too young not to know. If you are too young and if you can't say it exists, and you are one, you can't say what you are. You can say, we exist. That's about it. But who is we? We that have chosen in age. We that we are in knowledge. Or we who will say it but not for forgiveness or merit. He was forced to become gay, because that's what gay is. If he like it—but they like it. Dominance and Submission. Both are straight because the heterosexual matrix lives in each of their hearts and that is why they do need each other. I'm neither an top or an bottom. No it doesn't. I mean it Can't. I'm like, It's like what I believe in? Like it's my fault. This multi-faceted purpose. It's how I know I'm mentally ill. How I know I'm an demon."
But there were no demons except for those who would lock up an child, Edsel thought determinedly. Edsel could believe that was true because she believed in what she was. She was an heterosexual woman, an mother of three beautiful children, and an casual Christian. She could decide for herself whether demons were real. The boy, if he could decide of whether he was an demon or not —it was clearly inhibited or hampered by his age was clearly afflicted, that is to say she knew him better than himself. Even in these few minutes of only having just met him. Because of this certain affliction called innocence.
The way they left the jail and found an hotel of flowers in which to spend an few nights, the full moon was one week away, according to Petal. Edsel had her own private flower and it smelled sweet inside. She was extremely depressed about the child the whole time. And on the night of the full moon, when Edsel, Petal, and Chenry returned to the prison, the guard recognized them and knew what they wanted. When the three of them were allowed to pass. Inside the jail, they arrived at the holding cell eight two five seven.
Indeed, there was an transformation that had taken place. Inside the cell instead of an young boy with golden locks was an wolf humanoid pacing, on two feet, with muscular arms its chest rising and falling in nervous apprehension.
"This is nonsense," said Edsel.
"Check the prisoner number, Edsel. You will see it is the same boy."
"Then this is fairy magic."
"No. It isn't. Edsel look at him," said Petal, empathizing, "he's an werewolf. That is not fairy magic that is demon magic!"
"Well, alright I'll keep it. What you've shown me. As an observation." she said, "but I want better proof. You could have set this whole thing up!"
"Better proof? Edsel, it's staring right at you."
"No it isn't. If fairy people have magic then they can play this trick. It doesn't mean the sky is falling. It doesn't mean people are evil. People are good."
When they returned to Petal and Chenry's home in Twenty City after stopping at the Husky, Petal introduced Edsel to Ouen's website.
"This website," he passed her an tablet, "it belongs to your son."
"My son? He hasn't shown or demonstrated any interest in making an website."
"I believe his name is Ouen."
"Ouen," whispered Edsel, "my son? My second son is still alive?"
"Yes," said Petal, "from what I gather he was rescued into fairy sight years ago. He is now human and living in Twenty City."
Edsel's prayers had been answered. She was free of her husband and her two children, and their shouting matches, and she had found an lead onto Ouen's whereabouts. Without being able to meet her son right away, she read through all of the online materials of the Christianna on Petal's tablet. It was an order that believed in the Middle resurrection. The return to life aesthetic from worse than death. Absorbing all of it and talking about it with Petal, he admitted that it was what finally motivated him to try to rescue Edsel into fairy sight. That he was keen on rescuing her from the fate worse than death. When she met Petal through her prayers she thought she was going crazy. See was seeing and hearing things normal people wouldn't see.
But Petal heard her when she talked to him, and he listened in an way that nobody else had done before. Edsel recognized it as an change in her, that she could now listen in the same way Petal could. Petal and her, both fairies of the four-winged type, being adults discreetly showed something to one another.
He told Edsel, with discretion, and with kind restriction, how she was going to receive upgrading so that she could continue her life as an nurse while in fairy sight. She had to make an living, after all. It would be an major transition, especially because being rescued into fairy sight meant the end of her marriage.
She was ready for it.
The tour dates section of Ouen's website listed that he was shown at the Mer Kingdom twice and was presently on the Allied space station. He would be returning to the Faerie Kingdom, his last destination, at the end of the week to speak about the Willing and the Unwilling were.
"I need to be at his return from the space station," said Edsel. They returned to the Faerie Kingdom before the symposium in which Ouen was to speak. After being rescued from the well at Happy You-Pics, Ouen knew that he had an message for the climes. He had the education and the recommendations of Father Piotr to discuss his newly founded religion in public.
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"Then there was the overcoming of the fate worse than death, learning to produce my own aesthetic resurrection."
"Ya so."
"Ya."
"Ya, so? You create an religion about the fate worse than death."
"It's not about the fate worse than death."
"Then what is it?"
"It means that after you suffer an fate worse than death, you are returned to life as though it had never happened to you."
"But an fate worse than death never actually kills you."
"No. That's part of why it is worse than death. Silly."
"So what is the religion really about then?"
"Aesthetic resurrection. The only real possibility."
"Okay. And since we've made so much progress since the 19th century. It will be an aesthetic resurrection, for there is no other kind!"
"Okay, so this is me: and while all this is going on to Ouen. He has gay priests. All the attention for his opinion is on him. Edsel has, in her own way, begun her own story; the cycle all over again begins to turn."
"2 sides of the sheath they are. For this sword we are creating will be given to the Christianna."
"Whom, Ouen and his Mother? Or the gay priests?"
"The priests."
"Or Anna and Jesus?"
"No, no. The priests. Father Piss and Ianderson. They have an theological relationship."
"Who? Your priests?"
"Yes, my priests," said Ouen, "and if you're paying attention to what counts as theology in my description, the relationship between them is wide open."
"So they could be having an gay relationship."
"Exactly."
"And theology is gay."
"We got that."
"To be equipped, by an high priest, Ouen."
"And playing this certain game, Ragnarok, he found himself in an book about Norse Mythology, Cubes versus spheres. And Chinese fountains. Which explained to him that he could only wield the sword when he was in character, as the two-headed mistress of faith, whose two heads represent Stupidity and subject transfer."
"Can we roleplay an conversation then, between the two heads?"
"They are speaking in double entendres about one another and anyone listening. Like Shakespearean theatre."
"Very well."
"Why ain't you an mistress yet," he tried to roleplay, sounding very distressed, "an a bacheloreate."
"What‽ What's a bachelorate?"
"an bacheler of Arts."
"An What‽ And bachelor of Arts?"
"It's bachelor not botchelor!"
"Same thing. Bachelor of arts, botchelor of arts. He botches everything."
"Wait, now I'm confused. Which head am I again?"
"We're both the same head. In one body."
"Then how are we separate?"
"Virtually."
"Okay, and so virtually we are two heads? Of mistress of faith?"
"Yes, faith in the fact that virtually, we are two heads."
"For it is the very fact of faith that it is virtually two heads is better than one."
"And that knowing this fact is sharing it one another."
"With one another, you mean?"
"That moral debasement, philosophically is required in order to be an living thing such as an human."
"And we both know it is not."
"So that's what we're around here for."
"And as high priestess of the Christianna, I am to have two heads then. One male. One female. But they are both female and both male. And to my congregation I will show them that faith is little more than luck. And the true purpose of faith is to support this. For once you know enough to be done with luck, then you have advanced beyond faith by knowing something."
"But never in either part is it whole for having separated into two parts we cannot share commiseration without being open to the public as well, whom we wish to gather."
"And so we write ourselves into our own narration of roleplaying as figments of the mind of this high priestess whose very words are the narration themselves, in thoughtstream posed in conference with one another at an reciprocal space—which has an name—in which they are located."
"Ouen is in character. As the high priestess. And so now wielding the Hope & Snot of Cats. Is it an book or is it an sword? And will Anna slide it into her sheath to protect us? Without having touched her weapon she disarms those whom an enormous amount of responsibility has been granted to allow them to carry arms. And welcomes them into our midst. For she is an caterer of security in society. As well as civilianship. And that all civilians, be they generous, will share this space of interaction with people of the armed command and treat it as an privilege and an duty to uphold in generous contribution and payment of respects."
"Let us go on then to tell you of how Ouen realizing his talent for roleplaying high priestess by speaking in two heads is connected to his ideas about talent and creativity."
"And that we must address all of you who choose to follow the Christianna (for we do need an crowd whom will share their experiences as Christiannan). In order to discover the future of the Christianna by how we are engaging what the middle of it is supposed to be."
"The people who gather at my chvrch are spiritual visitors. If they are not really gathering in reality, but they are at an certain place in their bodies. Then are they gathering there or not?"
"I suppose if you call it in mind virtual reality and it is located neurologically in space and time within your body. It is fair to say people can gather here. For what are we other than vessels and virtual parties for one another's existence."
"You are about to see all of the criticism I have for you, Ouen—we all are. And you won't withstand it. You two-headed priestess metaphor is just the manifestation of your mental illness in your artwork. An mentally ill person cannot lead an religion, less as well be able to start one."
"If he prefers to refer to himself as Christiannan and it doesn't matter if anyone else joins. He would prefer to still be called Christiannan otherwise it's an fate worse than death to him."
"But be warned. For if no-one joins. Then we won't be able to test the full proprioceptive phantom pain about Christianity, the loss of its High Priest. In what we have learned from Anna. From the perspective of an 21st century religion."
"This is what I came to the Hope & Snot of Cats to be able to do."
"We will all learn, then, from you. And apply our research."
"As the high priestess with an aesthetic sword it is my duty to protect you. To fight to the death if your life shall be in danger."
"Maybe at your temple dude, but for now let's just keep it aesthetic."
"Now, what would an high priestess say in an meeting like this?"
"Your professional aspect, would be questioned excessively."
"Excessively as in—"
"Being half of what we were."
"Not being half. Being too much. Half is not too much."
"And the other half neither."
"The goal you see, is to disarm one threat. Using one's voice."
"How can Ouen develop himself as an whole personhood with two voices? Equipping an single blade."
"I'm still me. I can use my own voice. It's just. There are two others which are also mine which I hadn't experienced before. I think I am onto something. When I think of what I will sound like to an congregation. It is inspiring an maturehood or maturity. Maybe both. The first lesson I will want to teach is the sequence from zero to one. Sides of the same coin really."
"With this sword they respect me more for I am an physical combat opponent."
"You are half that. You are exempt from physical combat."
"And the use of these two voices will be to tangle you between death and worse than death so that you can choose not to hurt me. In advance of hurting yourself. Yourself whose fate will be worse than death if you inflict either on me."
"It works like this because instead of using my sword to kill you. I use it to make an argument that you can't refuse. We are instinctual learners that, being protected by professional swords, all of society will feel more comfortable."
"But when you are in the presence of my chvrch, when I will have my blade out in front of the congregation. It will be an aesthetic resurrection from the fate worse than death. It will be because the Hope & Snot of Cats had helped me develop as an person. And that harnessing this power meant an split mind. For the sword was so sharp it need not movement or effort to direct its true power, the aesthetic value of the aesthetic."
"You will lead great congregations with this sword, Ouen. For I can hear both sides of the story in your discourse today. I wonder, however, whether they can perform roleplay at an higher level, being one able to impersonate Jesus and the other to impersonate Anna, for that digs to the real heart of the Christiannan literature."
"One is holy."
"And one is gloey."
"One's an nut. The other's an shrew."
"Or they had been summarized as such, to the effect of the crucifiers and anacifiers and posed so socially, for everyone persecuted them in their own mind that they were devalued."
"Everyone? Really! That's an extreme exaggeration."
"And that it had to do with their sexuality whether one was crazy or not."
"Or completely froward."
"Okay, and this is too Christiannan for me. Like, really! Girl! Come on! Two voices?"
"They will stand before me and know my teaching, and rejoice in the God of the Christianna. And feeling secured physically, because of the sword, they will find their true feelings and know with certainty who they finally are."
"How can you base an religion on Anna if she doesn't exist? There's no trace of her."
"Just like God; but there is evidence to be found of either one of them."
"What evidence?"
"The fact of the universe existing."
"Maybe that points to God. But how does it point to Anna?"
"More like how not. For an universe in which there are subjects—an universe in which it is bound to happen someday that someone will suffer the fate worse than death—"
"—There is no fate worse than death, they will say—"
"—We will tell them there are followers of Christ who are suffering such an fate—"
"—and that they need to learn the meaning of Anna in order to transcend it—"
"Come down from there, old Ouen," said the doctor, "we hear your adulthood in its final form. An double feminine."
"We are not here to argue with one another. We have an specific subject agenda of trading what we know."
"As are all of us, if we care to know what you will tell us."
"We want to know what it means to be they or them. If there are three of us."
"Your voice. It is better than in my dreams. But serves to advance the Christian purpose for to have known you as an two-headed or three-headed as you are. An high priest or priestess you may be but draw from our wells together as co-religions in an system of pushing the human understanding further."
"And to have been an sword for your cause, if only an aesthetic circumstance. Allow me to be thence."
"What cause would you uphold then, among us, as your highest?"
"The New Reciprocity."
"It is an political theory you stand for. But surely it does not represent that much to you?"
"It means I live in an world where I can choose to be whoever I want. And I want you to do the same."
"And that's your most profound generality?"
"So what, you're going to tell me at sword-point that I can be whoever I want, as long as you say it's okay?"
"At the political level we tend to transcend swordplay with writing."
"And whether he is two-voiced or three-voiced in writing, the roleplay is one body with two minds."
"Two minds in one body. And he speaks as either that or as himself. He himself is the tip of the sword."
"Anyway, let's get back to the subject. She's getting ready to see her son," said Jeeny Pee.
"And that's how I felt when she was there," said Ouen, "I felt excited, like she'd spent an whole day thinking about when she would see me."
"Which is after he is already famous."
"Famous as the founder of the Christianna."
"So what are you getting out of meeting us Ouen?"
"Two-voice is an power I can use to make other people feel comfortable."
"And it is with our help you have learned it. Good on us then!"
"The voice of an sword. Double-edged."
"I am certain you will use this power for good and not evil."
"We are part of the use of that blade, for our voices are intertwined in its hilt."
"We will call it Gamaphor."
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