The Courier Ch. 25

There was a religious service on the plaza and an explanation of the significance of the Day of the Dead for those who were marching for the first time. Maria Elena was pleased that her comprehension of Danubian was good enough that she actually understood a lot of what Grand Prophet # 4 was saying. Following the ceremony and several hymns, the Grand Prophet picked up an unlit torch and a sling. He called a naked young woman to step forward and stand next to him. Maria Elena's heart skipped a beat, because the young woman was Grand Duchess Anyia.

At first fear and hatred rose up in the Colombian, but then she took a closer look at Anyia's face. She could tell that Anyia had changed, because all of the arrogance, greed, and cruelty that had been part of the Grand Duchess's expression had vanished. She was a totally different person, quietly and shyly doing what she was told to do. Grand Prophet # 4 told Anyia to kneel in front of him, which she quickly did. She assumed the proper position, with her arms extended in front of her, her forehead touching the ground, her knees spread, and her back arched to properly display her vulva and sphincter. She had knelt facing the Grand Prophet, so her body was lewdly displayed to everyone standing in the Plaza.

The Grand Prophet told Anyia to stand up and face the crowd. He handed her the sling, which she placed over her shoulder. He then handed her the torch, which she put into the sling. The Prophet explained how best to carry the torch to avoid muscle fatigue in the arms or back cramps while Anyia demonstrated. When the Prophet explained how not to carry the torch, Anyia demonstrated the incorrect holds as well. The Prophet explained how to light the torch and how to quickly put it out if necessary, with Anyia continuing her demonstration. Once Anyia's task was over, she set the torch down and resumed her kneeling position in front of the Grand Prophet.

As she watched Anyia's performance on the steps of the Temple of the Ancients, Criminal # 101025 realized that she had something to be very grateful for. She was ordinary: an ordinary criminal leading an ordinary life. No one would pay any special attention to her apart from Victor and her university friends. No television cameras would follow her; no commentators would have anything to say about her; no fans would worry about what she was doing and try to imitate her. Her anonymity was something for which she could give thanks to the Saints, or in this country, to the Ancients, as they were called. She would not have exchanged places with Anyia for anything.

Maria Elena understood that there was no point in hating the Grand Duchess, because there was nothing left to hate. Anyia now was nothing more than a possession of the Church, just as Maria Elena was an asset belonging to the Ministry of Justice. Anyia's life was no longer her own: she had to rise, or kneel, or pose for a demonstration on the orders of the Clergy. In fact, in a way Maria Elena now felt sorry for Anyia, because of her notoriety. She felt that the Church, in its triumph over the Grand Duchess, was parading her in front of the public, making sure the world understood she lost her authority and now was nothing more than living property. Maria Elena realized that, for herself, the fall in her life was not nearly as significant...really, how much worse was it to be a collared criminal than a drug courier? But...for the Duchess...

The Grand Prophet was not finished using the Grand Duchess as a demonstration prop. He ordered her to rise and again to face the crowd. He explained the significance of the body paint that everyone in the march would have to wear. Meanwhile two Priests quickly covered Anyia's body and face with white paint. One of the Priests highlighted her with black details, which totally transformed her appearance and made her look ghoulish. Over the next hour everyone in the Plaza would undergo the same transformation. Anyia knelt upright facing the Plaza while she waited for her fellow marchers to be painted and to get ready for a night of walking.

While Anyia knelt in silence, the Clergy members organized the Plaza crowd into several lines. The body paint came first, then the torches and the slings, and finally fire for the torches. While the marchers were being painted, Church bells rang across the city to announce the beginning of the first evening of mourning and repentance. After Maria Elena's friends and Victor were painted, she was frightened by how different they looked. It seemed that there was something more to their transformation than just a crude paint job. She took a deep breath as she felt the cold wet paint cover her body, because she was beginning to feel very apprehensive. The low, sad pitch of the church bells certainly did not help her mood: unlike the higher-pitched ringing of church bells in Latin America, there was nothing cheerful about the sound of Danubian bells.

The sun set; and the bells suddenly stopped. The city fell into complete silence; it was so quiet that Maria Elena could hear the breathing of everyone around her and the hiss of the blood flowing though her own ears. The silence overwhelmed her.

The Grand Prophet handed a torch to Anyia. The Grand Duchess walked along the row of basins to light the oil. She let out an ear-piercing whistle to let everyone know that the march was beginning. The marchers closest to the Temple approached the steps, picked up torches and slings, lit their torches in the oil, and passed through the main Temple. On the other side of the building they separated into two lines, one going north and the other going south.

Maria Elena followed Carmen and the other norteamericanos up the steps, her thoughts still on Anyia. She dipped her torch into the burning oil and then glanced over to see that Anyia was still standing next to the Grand Prophet. Anyia would march, but because she was by herself she would have to trail along behind the Clergy members. Maria Elena felt ever-increasing sympathy for her former nemesis; not only was the Duchess a public spectacle, but she had come to the Temple alone and her only companionship over the next two days would be the Clergy.

Maria Elena's line of marchers plunged into the darkness of the forest behind the Temple. The night was overcast and pitch-black, so all she could see was the line of torches stretching out ahead of her and the light from her own torch reflected off Carmen's painted back. At first the foliage from the forest obscured the dots of fire stretching off into the distance and the Columbian could see only a few torches ahead of her. However, eventually the marchers emerged onto the river beach and climbed up onto the main street heading north. The line of lighted dots extended as far as she could see...seemingly into infinity.

Maria Elena became aware that the marchers were not alone. Huddled on either side of the road were crowds of silent Danubia civilians, all wearing black prayer robes. The worshipers had covered their heads and were barely visible in the dim light. More than anything they looked like a sea of lost souls, shrouded ghosts in the Realm of the Dead.

At that point Maria Elena experienced a feeling that nearly everyone in the march experienced; a sensation of leaving the Realm of the Living. The line of burning dots extending into the darkness, the pitch black of the night, and the shrouded figures that did not seem human all gave her the sensation she no longer was alive.

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Whether or not she was still alive, Maria Elena realized one thing; she no longer was in Danubia. She was in Pereira, back in Colombia. She had never left Colombia, because she had never broken up with Jose Pablo. They were both at the university, and when they were not in class they were hanging out with their friends. It was a good life they had, one full of promise. Each got along just fine with the other's family. Drug trafficking was something that she heard about on the news, but not something she had any experience with first hand. And Jose Pablo...not dead, not dead at all. He had never joined the Colombian Army, and was nowhere close to that platoon when it was ambushed. She saw, in vivid detail, what her life would have been like had she done just two things differently the year before.

Maria Elena was still on campus when a young woman came up to her and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her down. She looked up to see herself, the self of the alternate reality, the self who was well-dressed and leading a happy productive life.

"Why did you do this to us? Why? You killed me, you killed the man we both loved, and you killed yourself! Why?"

"I don't know..."

With that, Pereira faded into darkness.

Maria Elena spent the rest of the night badly shaken by that...dream...or vision...or whatever the hell that experience was. Anyhow, she no longer had to guess how her life would have been had she not wasted it; she now knew for certain.