It’s a quarter to midnight pm, in this Christmast eve without snow, and immersed in a fog so dense that it is impossible to see beyond a yard.
I walk among the vans, followed closely bi Li’ìJo. Tobias is sleeping, I think.
So, now we are seven. I wonder about this Kristogar. He seems very confident, but how can we sure about him? Why if he is another government agent, like Turner? Well, for the moment, we have not any other chance than trust him. Sometime I would like to being not alone in this. Maybe I should have trusted that Doctor Quantos, back in Mandelovia, months ago. What I had put in motion is quickly becoming too large for me to manage. Well, I will just try to keep the head out of the troubled water, so to speak.
In a tent, most of the circus personnel is celebrating the Christmas eve. I see Kristogar, Nowhereman, Naecken. The cat runs toward them. There is also Lorelei, and for a moment I feel I should go there, too.
But no. I am not in the mood.
Today I heard, unseen, the conversation between Tobias and Mxy, and I have kept thinking about the Christmas for all the day. I have been a lucky man for most of my life, and I never cared for the Christmas, then. But when my career as an Olympic runner ended, and I was exposed as a metahuman, things changed in my life. I became aware of poverty, of being an outcast. I became a junkie.
I found friendship in a young priest in my neighbourhood, he helped me to recover, to find a job and then opening my little restaurant. I, in turn, worked with him in raising founds for the poorest kids of the parish.
And the true meaning of Christmas founds me, I would say. Too bad Tobias was not one of those kids. But there was an ocean in the mid.
Anyway, it’s a quarter before midnight and I have left the circus to find a church, walking in my civvies among the dense fog.
And finally I do. A big, gothic catholic church, made by grey stones, grey like all the rest of the city.
I enter.
Oh!
The church is totally empty. How is this possible? It is a big church, it should be one of the much attended ones.
Strange.
I kneel on one of the firsts pews, right in front of the altar, and begin to pray.
“Good evening, sir” a voice says, behind me.
I turn. It’s a priest.
“Good evening. I was expecting a celebration.” My eyes go to the watch at my wrist. “It’s midnight”
“Merry Christmas, then” says the priest, sitting next to me.
“May I ask why no celebration for the Christmas?” I insist.
“You are from abroad?”
“Yes, I’m Italian and I am with the circus. Do I have to understand that you don’t want to talk about the mass?”
“It’s a sad thing, Mr.?”
“Sardella. Guido Sardella.”
“Father Sean.”
“If you like to talk, I would be very glad to hear.”
“Ok, sir, just because you asked. But is a strange story, really strange, and I bet you will not trust a single word of it”.
“I’m all ears”
“Well, it all began not many years ago. At that time, Thunder was a normal town. A beautiful town. Bright and sunny.
The whole world was normal, with no metahumans, no talks about alien, no demons or zombies raiding the streets of cities.
But then, the metagene was discovered, and the government appointed TriVex, a little private research centre based here in Thunder, with an assignment of many millions dollars to study the metagenome.
They began to build the tower in the bay, for the new offices and labs, but then the environmentalist started to denounce various forms of poisoning of the bay. Some journalists found documents about illegal founding by the gov, rake-offs and such.
Add the fact that the whole city was hating them for the construction of the tower, that was altering the traditional landscape of the bay, a world known tourist attraction, and it’s easy to understand how the stop to the project was near.
Well, nothing happened.
And all changed.
A mist began to spread from the bay, and it has never left since. The people, all the people of the city, have become like mindless robot. They seems normal people from outside, but when you begin to watch them closely, it’s easy to see that they are just weird. They watch the same channel on TV, they eat all alike, the drinks only a brand of beer, use only specific brand of wears or of any other kinds of things.
I have done some research, and I have found that every brand is somehow tied to TriVex.
But the most important thing, is that any charge toward TriVex has been dropped, and all seems happy about things are now.”
“And the mass? “
“Everybody has converted to a little fundamentalist church. The one frequented by Zachary Knell. The owner of TriVex.”
“And do you know how the pople are kept slave in this odd way?”
“No. Not exactly. But there is a little tell, among the fishermen at the docks. It’s nothing more that a fairy tale. They say that the fog is the poisoning breath of a marine monster that live in the bay. The Leviathan, they call it.”
“And why you are not affected?” I ask.
“Well, I hate to say this, but I am a metahuman”. His skin instantly turns red, then blue, yellow, green and then normal. “I have this strange ability, like a chameleon. Plus, I guess, the power to resist this mass hallucination”.
“Could be. But you shouldn’t hate your condition. There is nothing bad in being a metahuman”. The priest, at my words, is somehow astounded.
“A man of good will” he says.
“The world needs men of good will” I note.
“This city needs something more…” he whisper, with a sad look.
“Maybe” I say, and waving a little my right hand, I go to the main door.
Walking away from the church, I repeat, “Maybe”.
And then I begin to sing to myself.
You better watch out, you better not cry
Better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
He's making a list and checking it twice
Gonna find out who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake
Oh! You better watch out, you better not cry
Better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
[ 12-27-2001: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]
