Oscar Meyers
Chapter 27

Copyright© 2004 by Lazlo Zalezac

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 27 - Oscar is a screwup until he encounters the God in a dust devil. Follow his life as he grows from being a soldier, to scholar, and finally to prophet. This is a story about duty and the price of honor.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/Ma   Romantic  

Fareed Khomeni’s face turned red and he glared at Oscar angrily. Fareed was a student of Mullah Farzin bin Saud and had been assigned to teach the basics of Islam to Oscar. Oscar had expected someone his own age, but Fareed was nearly sixty years of age. It turned out that Fareed was being groomed to take over the position held by Mullah Farzin bin Saud.

“You are impossible,” Fareed declared. He glared at Oscar and added, “You have no respect for the word of God!”

Oscar watched Fareed Khomeni storm out of the room in anger and shook his head in dismay. He had not expected the man to react so strongly to his question. He had pointed out what appeared to be a contradiction in the Koran and asked for an explanation. Each time Oscar asked for clarification about some concept that he didn’t understand, Fareed seemed to get a little angrier.

Alone in the room, Oscar wondered what he was supposed to be doing. It was late in the morning and he still had more than half a day of class time remaining. He yawned and settled back in his chair choosing to wait for Fareed to return. It would only anger the man more if he had to search out Oscar to resume the class once he had calmed down.

After Oscar had waited for thirty minutes, Oliver entered the room and took a seat across from the red robed Druid. He sighed and said, “Congratulations.”

“For what?” Oscar asked puzzled by the Oliver’s comment.

“Fareed Khomeni left.”

“What do you mean, he left?” Oscar asked. He knew that Fareed had been upset, but not upset enough to quit.

“Apparently, your questions have touched upon issues of great debate among Islamic scholars. Students are not supposed to ask such questions and demand answers from their instructors until much later in their studies.”

“How much later?”

“More than two weeks after beginning their studies,” Oliver answered with a smile.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that my questions were that contentious.”

“You are supposed to be a new student. He isn’t convinced that you understand the broad elements of the Koran. Your questions verge on being disrespectful,” Oliver said with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t think that was why he was so upset, though.”

“No?” Oscar asked.

“Imagine giving a first grader a Dick and Jane story to read and then coming to class the next day to find the student wanting to discuss the sonnets of Shakespeare. You wouldn’t be prepared to say much about the material. I’m sure that you would feel a little embarrassed by detailed questions about individual sonnets,” Oliver said.

“I guess,” Oscar said shrugging his shoulders. He hadn’t thought his questions were that probing.

“There is nothing like being caught flat-footed by an over-talented student who is nearly your equal in a subject,” Oliver said.

“Ah, I hadn’t considered that possibility,” Oscar said frowning.

“There was a reason why I asked Mullah Farzin bin Saud to provide the training. The Mullah is active in debating exactly the issues associated with your questions,” Oliver said. He sighed and said, “I was rather surprised when Fareed showed up. I could understand the rationale concerning the difficulties involved with Mullah Farzin bin Saud staying here while keeping your identity secret, but I felt there would be problems.”

“I guess there were problems,” Oscar commented in a deadpan voice.

Oliver laughed and shook his head. He rose from his chair and said, “I better get to my office. I’m sure that Mullah Farzin bin Saud will be calling soon.”

Holding up a hand to request that Oliver stay a moment, Oscar said, “I’ve got a feeling that this year is not going to be a very good year for my education.”

“Actually, I think you are going to learn a lot more this year than in the past.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are going to be learning the politics of religion. I can’t think of a religion more suited for teaching politics than Islam,” Oliver answered.

Nodding his head, Oscar had to agree. There were restrictions on following the orders of non-Muslims and a general attitude that was required of believers towards non-believers. There was a general acceptance that whatever happened was Allah’s will; even if it was directed by a human agency. There was a significant intolerance of criticism by non-believers while criticism of non- believers was practically required. Oscar said, “You are correct about it being the perfect religion for teaching politics, but I’m not sure that will help me become an Islamic Scholar.”

“Are you sure that the goal of your education is to become a religious scholar?” Oliver asked with a grin.

Surprised at the suggestion, Oscar asked, “Isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it is to understand the various motives that direct the actions of those who cling most violently to their religion,” Oliver answered. He leaned against the frame of the door and watched Oscar’s reaction.

Oscar ran a finger along the top of the table while thinking about what Oliver had said. It was a revelation and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it previously. Looking back up at Oliver he said, “I guess that makes sense if I’m to bring peace to the Middle East.”

“I better get back to my office.”

“What should I do?”

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?”

The town center was quiet. A few cars were parked in front of the small shops that lined the center square. It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week. Many of the locals commuted to the larger nearby town to work. Those who stayed in town were busy doing their daily activities. For the most part, those activities occurred indoors. Kids were in school, housewives were working around the house, and businessmen were hard at work in their places of business. The only people out and about were the elderly who gathered in public places to visit during the quiet afternoon hours.

There was a park in the center square. Trees gave shade to benches along paths that crisscrossed the park. Groups of elderly men and women were seated on the benches in pockets defined by friendships that had lasted a lifetime. Conversations ranged the full spectrum of topics. The topics included family, health, deaths, births, religion, and politics that spanned local, state, national, and international levels.

Oscar took a seat on a bench across from three older men. One of the men remarked, “You’re one of the funny fellows from that college.”

With a wry grin, Oscar said, “I guess you could say that. There are some who would suggest that, despite my best efforts, I’m not very funny.”

One of the men chuckled and said, “You’re right. You’re not very funny.”

“There sure are a lot of you fellers around now-a-days,” said one of the men. He shook his head and said, “I’m not sure that I like you running this country.”

“We don’t run this country,” Oscar said looking puzzled.

“Every time I see some new government program started up there’s one of you fellows standing there next to the politician,” the man replied. He scratched the side of his nose and said, “Not sure I like that at all.”

The other two men seated on the bench all nodded their heads in agreement. One of them said, “You’re right Edgar. I know lots of folks that feel the same way as you.”

“Does your doctor run your life?” Oscar asked after thinking about the comment for a minute.

“Sure seems like it. He’s got me on pills, a special diet, and wants me to exercise,” the old man answered. Of course, the exercise program recommended by the doctor didn’t seem like the kind of exercise he knew when he was a kid. Jumping up and down in the swimming pool was far different then the pushups and Jumping Jacks of his youth.

“Do you follow his advice?”

“Yes, I do. All of us go down to the YMCA and take part in the senior exercise program they have going down there.”

“Why do you do what he suggests?”

“I feel better. Hell, if it weren’t for the operation on my hip, I wouldn’t be able to walk around at all,” Edgar answered.

“So you use his services because you like the results,” Oscar said.

“Right.”

“That’s what we do. We provide a similar service to people. We try to improve the quality of life for humanity,” Oscar said.

One of the other men looked at Oscar as if he were speaking Greek. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re from the enforcement branch of the Druids. You kill people who don’t do what you say.”

Oscar had never heard the red robed Druids called the enforcement arm of the organization. With a puzzled expression on his face, he looked at the man wondering where he could have gotten that idea. After an uneasy silence, Oscar asked, “Enforcement arm?”

“Yes,” the old man answered getting worried that he had said something that would get him killed.

“Now you did it George,” Edgar said elbowing his buddy in the ribs.

Oscar realized that having so many red robed Druids involved in law enforcement that it was a reasonable characterization of their role by people who didn’t know better. The idea of letting Oliver know that some people had taken to calling the servants of the God the Enforcement Arm of the Druids came to mind. Filing the thought away, Oscar said, “I never thought of myself in that fashion.”

“What?”

“I’ve always seen myself as a defender of the weak. We aren’t enforcers for the strong,” Oscar answered.

“There’s a difference?”

“Sure. Suppose there was a gang of drug dealers moving into your neighborhood. It would be my duty to stop them from dealing drugs to the kids in the neighborhood,” Oscar said.

“You’d be enforcing the law,” George said.

“No, I’d be protecting all those kids who would become victims of the drugs,” Oscar said.

“Same thing, as far as I can tell. That’s why they have the laws.”

 
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