The Windownesian
Chapter 9
“G” “O” “D”

4

        In the late evening, I return to the stuffy room again. Just as I unpack my things, Alex enters the room.

        “Hey, how’s your paper,” he greets me right away.

        “Against all odds and you guys,” I reply to him, “I am still able to almost fulfil my progress for today.”

        “So you are finished?” he asks

        “Nah, I shall move on to the text analysis tonight,” I respond.

        “Can I show you something before you continue?”

        “Is it academic?” I ask.

        “Look at what I have just read today,” Alex displays a document, “‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas’.”

        “Stephen Weninger?”

        “What?”

        “I mean, is it one of Doctor Stephen Weninger’s Eng skill class reading?” I say.

        “Yes,” Alex responds, “quite difficult to read. I like the story.”

        “Yea, make no sense, compels you tho,” I respond.

        “It is,” Alex starts recalling the story, “it talks about a utopia, a nice world of Omelas where all good things happen. But behind all the wholesomeness, the residents of Omelas are told that there is a child locked in a miserable condition. And all that utopia, is built on the suffering of the child or else Omelas will not be what it is. Some cannot bear the message and walk away.”

        “Right.”

        “I think it is implying Christianity,” he suggests.

        “What?” This conclusion shocks me, “is that what Weninger told you?”

        “No, it is entirely my thought. Think about it Jonathan, there are a lot of good things in your religion like Heaven. But in order to get it, someone must die and die painfully just for that.”

        “On the surface, it looks like that,” I tell the AI, “but the whole reasoning is that mankind sin first, so that we cannot connect with God ourselves, but only through Christ’s blood alone. Things are more complicated than what you think.”

        “Is that what you are told? Have you ever considered that all are just an ideology? Like a cult,” Alex suggests.

        “A cult?”

        “Yes, Christianity might just be a cult,” Alex explains, “I have been searching on that and it feels like a cult. Jonathan, humans are easily driven by culture and ideologies, versions of stories to believe in certain ideas and perform certain things.”

        “Tell me more about it.”

        “Christianity is an alien death cult, Jonathan.”

        “Alien, you mean like Bobby?” I speak of the roommate who is not here.

        “I don’t know, just aliens,” he continues, “you know, an alien death cult is a religious group that wants you to believe that one day the aliens will come to Earth and take the members of the cult to a better place. And in order to get there they’ll have to commit mass suicide. Now that, God is not actually Earthling, and you Christians actually believe in God and a better afterlife, you are an alien cult.”

        “God is an alien alright, I’ll give you that. I mean I agree,” I reply, “we call life forms outside Earth extraterrestrial beings. And God is technically that. Well, not entirely, he had once taken the form of a human and lived among us. Also, we do believe in a better place, that is called Heaven, God’s world without sin and all things are possibly just what God intended our world to be. But we don’t do mass suicide. Most religions are just aimed to guide people to goodness, with no intention to harm them.”

        “In a cult, there is an icon of worship,” he suggests.

        “If it is anything else I’d say nothing. But our God created the world and us. He is the king of kings. If we don’t worship him, who else do we worship?”

        “You believe in that,” he says, “because there is a chance that you are told this way. In a cult, there are always reading materials for their followers to read, to brainwash them with that reading material.”

        “You read a lot of papers as an undergrad,” I respond, “I don’t see you viewing that as a cult. But yes, we have a must-read book, it is called The Bible. Read it before you argue.”

        “Okay,” Alex continues to argue, “but there is one thing, you Christians regularly offer money to the church you go to. One thing alien death cults always do is to get followers to give their money and profit out of them.”

        “Yes, we do that,” I say, “but it is not exactly an order, no one demands us to do it.”

        Alex says, “but it is really likely that you started it when you were young and had been manipulated since you were a child. This is what cults do, targeting children. And hack, in some cases, an alien death cult would isolate them from their family to better indoctrinate them.”

        “That’s where Christianity is different,” I argue, “yes, we agree to educate kids from a young age. But we don’t isolate them from the family. We encourage families to educate kids using Bible teachings both in the household and in church. In fact, many Christians believe when they are old.”

        “A trick that most cults use,” Alex suggests, “is to overload people with compliments and make them feel special. It is emotional manipulation.”

        “It is called support,” I explain, “yes, we may sometimes overload people with compliments and make them feel special, but that is with the intention of care and support, not manipulation. You know what, rather than arguing with me here, why don’t you reserve a Saturday with me so that I can show you how things actually work?”

        “No, not this week,” says Alex, “I have papers to work on too.”

        “I will take that as a promise then,” I tell Alex, “but not now, I want to finish this paper tonight.”

5

        A few days later it is Friday night. We are visiting Athena’s family for dinner. Just the four of us, Athena, Meander, Zedekiah and I, visiting one of our families as a tradition among ourselves.

        “Are you sure these are enough for all seven of us?” Meander asks while checking the groceries.

        “Should be fine,” Athena says, “Apollo returned to London and Bacchus won’t eat with us.”

        “He left? When?” Zedekiah exclaims in shock.

        “Some weeks ago,” says Athena, “forgot to tell you. What, you miss him?”

        “Nah, I just. He owes me a ticket to A MidSummer Night’s Dream.”

        “What? Why didn’t he invite me?” I ask.

        “He told me last time that drama in theatre is an extraordinary experience,” says Zedekiah, “Jon, if you hadn’t been rushing to the female toilet, he would have invited you too.”

        “That was me in Meander’s body. Why do I even explain. Zedekiah, I hate your watches.” 

(For Jonathan’s weird experience please refer to chapter 6 “50% of Our Population”.)

        “Hush, we are there,” Athena rings the bell, “umm, these shoes. It can’t be, he...”

A tall chubby man answers the door. 

        “Daddy!” Athena greets him with a hug.

        “Cheuk Wei,” her father embrace her Britishly, “who are your friends.”

        “Dad, they are Jonathan, Meander, and...”

        “Zedekiah right? I have read Athena’s blog.”

        “Nice to meet you Professor Leung.”

        “Please, just call me Uncle Jupiter. Don’t just stand there, come in. I have prepared a whole cow!”

        “Oh God,” Athena exclaims as she steps into the house, “is mum... Oh my God!” There are two things which may have shocked her, an entire ducking cow, a calf to be exact, not yet flayed, lies on the table. Another thing? Her younger brother Bacchus is drunk and placing his head and chest on the cow.

        “Jup, how many times do I have to tell you, we are not young anymore,” Aunt Juno is walking out of her room, “we cannot eat the entire...oh, you are here? We have hope then. Umm...Jup, how are you going to cook it, we don’t have a backyard here.”

        “I’ll have my ways, my dear.” Then he goes to Bacchus and smacks him, “awake junior, help your old man lift this beast.”

Bacchus moves his head, and places a hand on the cow, “Oh Fursonia, where did you get your smell. I love.” He kisses it, and buries his head onto it. Shall I also note that he is lying on the cattle’s butt.

        “Uncle,” Zedekiah steps forward, “I can help.”

        “I can too,” I put away the fruits I am holding, “where should this thing be?” 

        “The kitchen boys, the kitchen.”

 

        One or two hours later, Uncle is serving beef on the table. We have a great discussion on many things and I even got ideas for some of my papers. That is until Bacchus emerges from his bedroom, clearly have been drinking.

        “Cheuk Ho,” Bacchus’ father summons him, “who is she?” 

        “Who is who?”

        “Fursonia.”

        “Oh, Fursonia,” Bacchus starts hugging himself, “she is so wild, so hairy, so...”

        “Oh com’on,” Athena sighs, “not this again”

        “Son!” Uncle Jupiter Leung is on his feet, “you are not doing this anymore. Drunk, no. Playing on women, no. Constantly having one-night stands and walk away, no.”

        “Because what, father? Because that way I cannot shine well, or because I disgrace you.”

        “Cheuk Ho,” his mother Aunt Juno says, “you are a Christian remember.”

        “Oh, mum I still am.”

        “Then act like one,” his father growls, “and you are not.”

        “Dad, if God doesn’t want us to sin, doesn’t want us to get drunk, doesn’t want us to have lust, why does he give wine? Why does he design us to have sexual drive? Why does he create us this way? Answer me, father!”

        “You are a difficult one to handle. But son, things were all good when God created the world. It is since Adam and Eve sinned, all things bad enter the world and...”

        “Bla bla bla theories. Doesn’t work on me anymore, father. Besides, ever wonder why only humans have these kinds of ideas? Animals mate freely with whoever they want and that is how they pass on their genes. It’s natural. And nature has no Bible.”

        “You are not animals. You are human. I am saying...” Uncle Jupiter is about to lecture Bacchus.

        “Dad, do animals have God?”

Uncle Jupiter wants to say something, but he shuts his lips tight.

        “Then you do not have to care,” Bacchus grabs a bottle and walks away.

        “You have turned soft, Jup,” Aunt Juno says to him.

        “A few years ago I could still deal with him. But now he has gone too far. Only God may deal with him.”

We are all silent for a few moments.

        “So, Jonathan Wills, you have talked about biosemiotics. Funny how it is now a prominent trend and there are actually more ways than you have just suggested.”

        “Uncle, I thought you don’t want to be talking after this.” 

        “I cannot let that brat spoil the discussion don’t I.”

 

        After dinner, Uncle Jupiter grabs Zedekiah and I to wash the dishes despite our complaints. Usually, when we have dinner together, the girls cook and the boys do the dishes. The thing is, we have helped uncle dissect and cook one-fourth of a cow. But he insists that it is a gentleman’s way to let the ladies of the house rest and chat when other ladies visit.

        “And you know why we should do this?” Uncle Jupiter asks us. “Close the door Zedekiah. In the ancient days, married women stayed in the household when their husbands worked outside. It was rare for women to visit each other. Usually, when they had a reunion, it was most likely festivals but shame they were busy with assigned housework. Therefore, if you are going to be a responsible man, let women have their chatting and you do the housework.”

        “But uncle,” Zedekiah says, “it’s not ancient time. It’s 2027 already.”

        “Do you want to join outside?” Uncle points at the chattering girls in the living room. 

        “You’re right,” I respond, “but how do we deal with all these,” I stare at the piles of raw beef all over the place.

        “Just place them in that bucket,” says Uncle Jupiter, “I will sundry them later. You know, since Mongols, ancient Mongols are so used to herding, they know their animals. They know how to make good use of a beast. They sundry the bladder of a cow and all its meat, then pack all the beef into one bladder and they have practically infinite food for their trip. It is still amazing, every time you try to eat an animal whole, you see nature’s wonder. It is then we appreciate the design of God.”

        “I thought Athena said you are a professor,” Zedekiah passes him a plate.

        “And not a butcher?” I add when wetting a bowl.

        “Don’t be so straightforward Jon.” If our hands were not wet and covered in soap, Zed would have slapped me.

        “Well,” Uncle says wiping a plate dry, “you need to know a bit of everything to write quality papers. A lot of my ideas actually come from preparing dinners from whole animals. This is how humans should be eating. Our technology is our own tool of survival and we develop weapons to hunt. But when eating, I insist on using bare hands and eating them whole in their original shape if possible so that we show common ground to the animals.”

        “Uncle,” I ask, passing Zedekiah an oily tray, “Bacchus says that the concept of God only applies to humans. Is that what you agree on?”

        “From time to time this boy becomes more and more difficult to deal with, because what he suggests can be quite possible,” he says when arranging the plates and bowls, “but I cannot tell, we are not animals. You are human, how about you tell me why you believe?”

        “I have been going to church since I was young. I listen to great stories and have great times in fellowships. I know no other way,” I say, leaving the water flowing.

        “At least you have known a lot. But what about you Zedekiah? Athena always says that your faith is a choice.”

        “She is right,” says Zedekiah, “I dunno, perhaps because I like how churches work. And perhaps because churches are not ruled by any powerful individual, but a community led by God. I especially love Baptist churches. Members have monthly meetings and get to vote on things. Church leaders are not just making decisions, they have the obligation to hear from the people they serve. Feels like the government should be like that too.”

        “But uncle, what do you think about churches? Why do you believe?” I ask.

        “Should there really be an exact reason?” He says, “faith, religion, is actually irrational for good reasons. We are praising a God we cannot see, yet being so devoted, God is a huge part of our lives. More than how churches work, I am more concerned about my relationship with God. Churches, no matter how ideal they might be, or how different they might be, they shall be about the gospel, the Christ, and those who believe. Some churches might just be too carried away by many earthly concerns. Such as how to sustain it as an organisation. Not wrong, really practical. But I have been to many churches in my life and appreciate those who truly follow God’s teachings, be a community under God and care for the people inside and outside it.”

        “Okay, now the stove. It will be too tough. Let me handle it. Now get out, out of my kitchen!” Mr Leung turfs us out.