Chapter 45

1639 hours, local time
Wednesday, 13 May, 2015
Dubuque County Courthouse
Dubuque, Iowa

“So, you are interested in closer cooperation with our community, then?” the Prophet David Howard asked the delegation from Davenport.

“Certainly, Your Eminence. We are intrigued by your community’s embrace of the Church of Haven,” Mayor Darren Welch, a tall, bulky man with a ginger mop of hair, told the Prophet nervously.

Prophet Howard’s eyes, full of both fire and ice, searched the room. His followers nodded in unison, eager to hear his response. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mayor Welch, what do you believe our union can achieve?” His voice was like a gentle stream, belying the power behind his words.

The mayor took a moment to compose himself before speaking. “We are aware of the prosperity and unity, both here in Dubuque and over there in Cairo, Illinois. You’re presumably aware of the brief, but bloody war between our fair city of Davenport and that of Des Moines, along with the pressure from other communities, such as Cedar Rapids. We have achieved a delicate, hard won peace, brokered by third parties, and only narrowly averted disaster at times. You have built something amazing here, a theocracy that strangely isn’t some kind of corrupt or terroristic ecclesiastical tyranny. You are incredibly promiscuous, by all accounts, but seem to be immune to sexually transmitted diseases. What’s your secret?”

“And, just one day after eyewitness accounts of a divinely ordained bacchanalia, complete with angels and the alleged presence of Almighty God Himself, your demonic scout rejoins you after some reconnaissance mission. The Mayor here is a Methodist. I’m a Presbyterian. This is a bit troubling for both of us, but we can’t ignore these reports. We’re sitting across you and this Tozroman figure here, horns and pitchfork and pointed tail,” Councilwoman Katherine Grove replied awkwardly, trying not to ogle the Prophet and his naked entourage.

Prophet Howard’s expression remained serene as he addressed the Councilwoman’s concerns. “Ah, the whispers and rumors. Fear not, my dear Katherine. Our ways may seem unorthodox to those bound by the shackles of traditional faith, but we are merely embracing the divine in its purest form—free love and communion with the angels that guide us. And as for our health, it is a gift from the heavens themselves. Schumacher Syndrome. Not a disease, in spite of the name. An anti-disease. A testament to the righteousness of our faith and the protection of the Almighty, the King of Heaven.”

“I’m somewhat sorry that I missed the orgy last Sunday, but it was necessary for the common cause of defeating the Justice Party or at least weakening it. I seem to have met with some success,” Tozroman smirked, two fangs dropping from his upper mouth.

Mayor Welch squirmed uncomfortably. “Let’s stick to the matter at hand. We need to form an alliance to protect ourselves from external threats. Your community seems to be doing something right, and we’d like to learn from your example. Perhaps ... even reinstating a single state government. With a Governor, legislature, etc.”

“I would like that, actually,” the Prophet smiled, “I naturally volunteer to serve as interim governor. With Dubuque as temporary capital. With eventual annexation by the Commonwealth of Haven as a province.”

“We should get Des Moines, Cedar Rapids, Iowa City, Council Bluffs, etc. on side, too,” the Prophetess Serena Kurtz, the Prophet’s German half-sister who was among his wives, too, proposed with her Hamburg accent.

Mayor Welch nodded, his eyes widening at the prospect. “Won’t have much of a state without them. Just as Maryland’s new state authority needed Annapolis before it got it. Just as West Virginia is still just a collection of communities, not a state again. Not yet.”

“I’m all for a single central state or provincial government for all of Iowa. We bluffed Des Moines, almost lost the war, but luckily escaped with a simple truce. It would be nice to one state again, for a variety of reasons. The Union might be long gone, but Iowa can return,” Councilman Walter Rothman adjusted his kippah, even if he wasn’t sure how Judaism would fit into such an arrangement.

The Prophet’s eyes lit up with understanding, “And you can ask anyone who interacts with us. We don’t forcibly convert anyone. We have full freedom of worship. We seek brotherhood with our fellow man. Ours ain’t your grandfather’s kind of theocracy.”

“So, no fatwas putting bounties on people’s heads, then. You and your fellow Prophets, especially the famous Lawgiver, Mark Schumacher, aren’t playing ayatollahs, then?” Rothman persisted.

Prophet Howard chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, the Lawgiver. A man of wisdom and revelation. No, we do not impose our beliefs through fear or coercion. Our power comes from the love and devotion of our people. They follow us willingly, drawn to the light of our truth. If you wish to join us, Mayor Welch, you would be welcome to experience it firsthand, as would any member of your delegation. Perhaps a tour of our sacred spaces, a meeting with our holy leaders, and a glimpse into the heavenly joys we share might sway you from the path of doubt?”