Oscar Meyers - Cover

Oscar Meyers

Copyright© 2004 by Lazlo Zalezac

Chapter 26

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 26 - 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  

Carrying a rather large piece of luggage, Oscar strolled down the hallway as if he owned the hotel. The hallway was basically bare; painted in a dull white. Every thirty feet, the walls were broken by pairs of doors that faced an identical pair of doors on the other side of the hallway. The floor was covered with a commercial carpet intended to be unnoticed while hiding stains and dampening noise.

After walking more than half the length of the hallway, Oscar arrived at his room. He checked the number against that written in the paper folder that held the plastic key. He set down his luggage and removed the plastic key from the paper folder. Bending over to examine the mechanism, he slipped the plastic card into the slot across the top of the lock. The red light changed green and he opened the door.

Holding the door open with one foot, he picked up his luggage.

The door of the room across the hallway rattled, but he ignored it.

He suspected that it was security for the man in the room next to his. He entered the room and let the door slam closed behind him.

He dropped the luggage in front of the door.

He went over to the door to the connecting room and opened it. He was surprised to find that the door on the other side was already open. He called out, “Hello, the room.”

“Come in, Oscar.”

“Reverend Jones! What are you doing here?”

“This is my room,” the elderly man answered with a smile.

“I thought I was supposed to meet with Mullah Farzin bin Saud,”

Oscar said confused by the man’s answer.

“He’ll be along any time now. People are used to Farzin, Israel, and me visiting each other at these religious conferences. Israel will be along a little later.”

“So I get to talk to all three of you at once,” Oscar said. He had been expecting cloak and dagger, but this was rather surprising.

“That’s right,” the elderly man said. He laughed at the expression on Oscar’s face. The young man looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. He picked up a packet and said, “Here are your credentials for the conference.”

Oscar took the packet and opened it. After reading the affiliation on his name badge, he asked, “First Temple of John?”

“Hey, it was the only thing I could think of. It’s a name that suggests lots of things, but says nothing.”

“Oh,” Oscar said. He went through the packet and noticed that there was a registration for the First Temple of John with him listed as Voice of John. Waving the paper, he asked, “What’s this?”

“I had to register you as a religious leader of a church in case you were ever caught talking to one of us. If anyone even suspects who you are, I guarantee you that you will be killed,” the Reverend said.

Oscar studied the Reverend Jones with the eyes of a warrior. He could see that the elderly man had the same acceptance of the dangers associated with his calling as any warrior. This was a life or death game they were playing. The seriousness of the situation reminded him of the rattle he had heard across the hall when entering his room. He asked, “Who’s across the hall?”

“They’re my bodyguards. I have three of them in the three rooms across the hall. They were not happy about the fact that my room had a door they couldn’t guard.”

“I can imagine.”

“Speaking of imagination, what did you think of the Apocrypha?”

“Well, the short answer is that I found them interesting. I fear that the long answer will take more time than we have,” Oscar answered. He had read them keeping in mind the analogy of different people’s stories of John Carter. Shaking his head, he said,

“I can see why some would not want to include those books in the Bible.”

“Why?”

“There are different reasons for each book,” Oscar answered. The Gospel of Mary would naturally be suppressed by individuals afraid of giving power to women. He added, “Of course, the Gnostic books really undermine the idea of a centralized authority.”

The two men talked about the various books left out of the Bible for a half an hour. They went over each of the books and tried to identify why it would be left out of the Bible. The Gospel of Judas raised interesting questions about which one of the Apostles was the true traitor. If Judas was fulfilling a mission given him by Jesus, then one of the other Apostles betrayed Jesus in some other fashion. In that case, the New Testament didn’t identify the form of betrayal.

Their discussion ended when there was a knock on the door. In order to keep the relationship between the men a secret, Oscar went into his room and the Reverend closed the door connecting the rooms. It was two minutes before the door opened and Oscar found himself facing Mullah Farzin bin Saud.

The two men examined each other for a minute. Farzin took in the suit, the beard, and the long hair of Oscar. It was a very different presentation of the man he had seen on television more than a year ago. If he hadn’t known who he was meeting, he would not have recognized him. Farzin said, “So you are the Desert Ghost.”

“I am,” Oscar replied. He examined the Mullah taking in the black robe, the black turban, and the white beard. He was dressed in a subdued manner that clearly identified him as a conservative Mullah.

“I had expected someone a little taller,” the older man said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He had heard the stories from Iran and Afghanistan about the Desert Ghost. The stories told of a man who could appear from nowhere and fight like a hundred men before vanishing without a trace. They talked about him as though he were the perfect warrior. At the same time, he was described as a Magi. The Desert Ghost was feared and respected across the whole Islamic world.

Oscar laughed at the reference to his diminutive stature and said, “I hear that quite often.”

Nodding his head, the Mullah handed Oscar a small Koran. Oscar looked at it and saw that it was in Arabic. Noticing the raised eyebrow, Farzin said, “I understand that you can read Arabic.”

“Yes,” Oscar said wondering what his previous instructors had told the man.

“That is good. I know that I don’t have to tell you to treat the book with respect,” Farzin said.

“Of course, I’ll treat it with respect. It contains the words of one of the Powers that Be,” Oscar said. He ran a hand over the cover enjoying the sensation of the rough texture beneath his fingertips.

Satisfied with the answer, Farzin turned away and walked over to a chair. Sitting down, he gestured to another chair and said, “Have a seat. I had always expected that when I reached my current age that I would live in a nice home surrounded by my children and grandchildren. I would eat dates and sweet meats. I would drink coffee. I would study the Koran all day. Instead, I travel all over the world arguing for peace. I am too old to pass up a chance to have a seat.”

Smiling at the reference to age, Oscar went over to the offered chair. He commented, “When we are young, we look forward to chances to stand and move. When we are old, we look forward to sitting and resting. I guess that middle age is when we want to sit down when we are standing and want to stand when we are sitting.”

Reverend Leroy Jones said, “Or that we are satisfied when standing or sitting.”

“Or when we are not satisfied with either,” Farzin commented with a wink.

While sitting down, Oscar noticed a small stone on a gold chain that hung around the old man’s neck. He could feel the power coming from the stone. Curious of its origins, he asked, “Is that from the rock?”

“Yes. It is a symbol of my service to Allah,” the old man answered even as his hand went up to rest on it. In his travels, it was the only thing that gave him the strength to continue. The old man shifted and said, “These hotels do not understand the meaning of the word comfort.”

“You always say that,” the Reverend Leroy Jones replied with a smile. Farzin preferred to sit upon pillows placed on the floor feeling that sitting in a chair was much too formal. He gestured to a carafe of hot tea and asked, “May I interest you in some tea?”

“Yes,” answered Farzin. He sighed and said, “The West doesn’t understand a good cup of coffee.”

At the look of inquiry from the older man, Oscar said, “Tea would be fine.”

After serving tea, the Reverend asked, “So how are the talks going?”

“My words are falling on deaf ears. Too many Holy Men believe that the United States is the Great Satan under the control of Israel.

They see this as a land of sin where women are not protected and God has no influence. Even to suggest that the Americans follow a different God with different rules is blasphemy since there is only one true God, Allah. They truly believe that America must be converted to Islam. It doesn’t matter to them if infidels die in the process. That is Allah’s will and not theirs.”

“Then they are not holy men,” Oscar said.

Farzin smiled at the answer and said, “They have the right bloodlines and have studied the Koran for their entire lives. They are highly educated men and their words reflect the teachings of Muhammad, the last true prophet of Allah. To suggest that they aren’t holy would get you killed in less polite company.”

“Point taken,” Oscar said. The reference to bloodlines made him glance in the direction of the Reverend. He wondered what bloodline had to do with anything. He looked at the Koran in his hand and said, “I have much to learn about Islam.”

“Yes, you do,” the older man agreed. He felt that the West dismissed the teachings of the Koran as immaterial to life. He sighed and said, “There are conferences like this one, four times a year. We will meet at them and discuss what you have learned. A student of mine will go visit your Druid College to help you in your studies. Listen to what he says, but do not challenge him. He is young and there is much that he has not learned.”

“Okay,” Oscar replied doubtfully. He glanced over the Reverend Leroy Jones to see what his reaction to the suggested course of instruction was.

“Do not look so disappointed. That is the way our students are taught. I teach the advanced students and they, in turn, teach the less advanced students. Less advanced students who are particularly good will meet with me on occasion.”

Oscar frowned and thought about the Druid College. The attitude there was to have the best teachers early in the process. That allowed the students to get a firm foundation upon which they could build. He said, “It seems to me that you would want the best person possible to teach first principles since everything you learn follows from them.”

“One starts with broad generalities and then you refine the ideas.

The broad generalities can be taught by any reasonably advanced student. It is when you start refining the ideas that great skill is required to guide the inquiring mind,” the Mullah answered.

“Two such different world views on how to teach the young,”

Reverend Leroy Jones remarked. He gestured to Oscar and said, “I think you’ll find Oscar to be a very adept student. I’m sure that he’ll outpace your young man fairly quickly.”

“I don’t think so.” The idea that a beginning student would be able to challenge an advanced student ran counter to his experience.

“Don’t forget that Oscar is learning this as part of his service to the Gods and Goddesses of the Druids.”

The comment did cause the Mullah to think about it. He smiled and said, “Read the Koran for the rest of this afternoon. We shall discuss what you’ve read when I have finished this afternoon’s sessions.”

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