Chapter 69

1045 hours, local time
Sunday, 6 July, 2014
Church of the New Way
Roanoke, Virginia

“So, my friends, my fellow citizens, my fellow Roanokians, or Roanokites, or whatever...,” I rambled in a self-deprecating fashion in my sermon that Sunday.

I got the laughter that I intended, of course. The idea of a Prophet admitting his flaws, his mistakes, or even his humanity, that was gold. I wasn’t entirely being manipulative. I was well aware that being a Prophet didn’t preclude errors. I was still flesh and blood, though I heard by now that the Lawgiver apparently was a bit more superhuman. Well, that was him, not me. I was still in this, very human, very mortal body, even if I had angelic blood coursing through my veins.

“In any case, this is my last Sunday with you, my dear people. I have gotten to know all of you so well, some more than others, many of you quite intimately,” I delivered the next line more like a stand-up comic, fully expecting the raucous laughter at that inside joke, “but my time has almost entirely passed by now. I must prepare to leave you come Friday. That is imperative, a divine command.”

I heard some weeping and sobbing, not to mention saw plenty of long faces. I also noticed a number of folks squirming a bit in their seats. More than a few of those in the front rows were regular companions of mine, in bed and out of it. The Munsons, Lassards, Urgels, Dovers, and Lakeshores, among others, were all quite keen sexual partners of mine. Several of them winked at me as if to invite me to get in a few for the road before I departed Roanoke. They were probably sincere, too.

My own harem seemed to have real mixed feelings about leaving Roanoke, where we had made our homes since leaving Charlottesville. We all missed that crew as well, though Stephanie had joined my household as one of my wives, just as Vera later did. We would all miss our friends and lovers from Roanoke for sure, just as we did from other places. Not just Charlottesville, but Stanardsville, Twin Lakes, Lancaster County, Baltimore, Frederick, Hagerstown, and Hancock. We had come a long way in just a year, even if within a smaller area than expected. It was the first anniversary of Fireball Day, after all.

“I will miss you all deeply, as you know. I hope and trust that you will all miss me. However, time is almost up and we must move on with our lives. We must persist and persevere. We must resolve to continue the fight against the foe, not only against the Nazi and his jackboot, but also against the enemies of civilization in an impersonal sense. Crime, depression, economic stagnation, anxiety, abuse, cruelty, bigotry, superstition, prudishness, avarice, pollution, and other undesirable tendencies should be combated,” I continued in my homily.

I received a standing ovation for this part, of course. I was deliberately vague, but I was essentially encouraging them to continue in the New Way, or the New Path, or Havenism. Not just the religion itself, I might add, but also the moral values and vision of the Havenist ethic. Havenism increasingly represented a distinct worldview or perspective, a new religious or spiritual identity and consciousness. I didn’t want them to relapse, though it was rather unlikely that they would do so with Schumacher Syndrome. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances, especially with the influx of refugees who didn’t yet have Schumacher Syndrome.

I was determined to leave Roanoke in the right hands, both Austin, Davis, and others in their municipal government, as well as General Lassard and his staff. That was particularly true of Munson. I was confident that Austin would lead the Church of the New Way as the Prophet effectively as well as the city as the Mayor. This didn’t prevent anxiety or worry over the issue, though. I was increasingly a patriarch, a father figure in much of Virginia, and like any father, I worried for my family, my posterity, my legacy. Hell, in many cases, I was literally the father or would be!