A belief, no matter how much conviction you believe it with, is still just a belief. It cant become something more, something that changes the world, until it gains legitimacy. Until people stop scoffing at the freaks with the weird ideas. Legitimacy gets you from a cult to a religion.
The soundbite had done what it was meant to. It had swept across the major social media platforms and sat itself in the midst of the popular conversation. Most people rolled their eyes at it. Some just laughed at the message. Others got angry, writing screeds of almost incoherent rage at the idea of religious belief being taken seriously.
The people who planted the video sat back in an office somewhere in a strip mall in Omaha and high fived each other as another 5,000 word essay from some easily manipulated internet atheist made its way onto the web. What was that Oscar Wilde quote again?
On the back of this, a series of talks were announced. They would occur in various high profile places, hosted by established philosophical foundations and they would be open to the public, with a token donation accepted as an entry fee. Ideas, especially ones that stand on their own, shouldnt cost anything, right?
The first few talks didnt really gather much interest. There were more empty seats than full ones, the audiences were restless and there were even a couple of hecklers, although these people were tossed out pretty quickly.
But just like the original soundbite, clips from these talks – very specific, curated clips – made their way online and were consumed by millions. And then.
The final one of these talks, colloquially called The Big One, was to be hosted at the same venue, and an hour before, a major philosophical debate. Anyone who had tickets to the latter would gain free access to the former.
Suddenly there were more full seats than empty. The audience sat back and listened. No one spoke out of turn and the speakers were allowed to perform as they had rehearsed. This was the first step. They had started to gain legitimacy.
The face of this group was a conventionally attractive man in his mid-30s. He wore a short cut beard, immaculately trimmed and a stylish haircut that had him featured in any number of ‘attractive men’ magazines. He was charismatic, honest and, unique to many others in his position, no major skeletons in his closet.
He spoke wherever he was asked to. The opening of a fast food restaurant in small town Wyoming. In front of the board of a major Fortune 500 company in New York. And, the day he declared that he had finally made it, on stage at a megachurch, in front of a live audience of nearly 1,000 and a streaming audience of over 10,000.
“This is what it feels like, huh?” he asked, with that unnaturally white smile on his face. The microphone making him sound larger than life. “To be accepted as a genuine idea. To speak next to these incredibly influential people and be allowed into all of your lives. Even if it is just for a moment. Its humbling and gratifying. And its all because of people like you, people who stopped, listened and accepted a new idea. I, and my hardworking team, everyone from the very top all the way down to the very bottom, we thank you so much for letting us have our say. I think its hard to deny us our legitimacy now, dont you?” With a laugh, a famous laugh that had become a soundbite all of its own, he handed the microphone back to the host of the session.
“Youre more than welcome back here anytime you like,” he said, shaking the others hand and sending him on his way offstage. He waited for his live audience to quieten down a bit as they applauded the other offstage before continuing with his sermon. He didnt know it then, but it would become apparent later, that was the day him, and his kind, were made irrelevant.
The face of this new philosophy leaned on the back of a chair, a smug smile plastered on his face. He, and his team – a group of five people who made sure he did exactly as he was meant to – were sharing a suite inside a skyscraper in Manhattan. They had just come from another wildly successful talk, hosted by a club of billionaires, and they were waiting for their check to clear.
“Whats next?” he asked. He looked at them each in turn, the smile plastered on his face telling them each that he knew the answer. But they would play the game regardless.
“We keep to the path,” his writer said, a young woman, plucked out of obscurity. She had been writing articles and blogposts for content mills for several years, living paycheck to paycheck before they found her, flew her to a compound in Texas and had her come up with a series of speeches to further their agenda. She had been reluctant to join them, but the paycheck along with the help they gave her family was enough incentive to do what they wanted. “We’ve come this far without deviating, why start now?”
“Agreed,” his agent said, nodding. “We have another half dozen of these talks already planned. The speeches are written, the little snippets are already planned. Diverging from whats decided now would only serve to expose weaknesses in our agenda. We’re this close to something big.”
“We walk a knifes edge,” said his boss. He was the overall strategy manager. The larger plan, the overall goals, they were his. He had the ideas, he had the money and he had the motivation. Everything else was on the team before him. They each had their roles to play and, so far, they had played them admirably. “We have climbed the mountain that was placed before us and we are within sight of the peak. We do not want to rush just because we can see the end before us. One slip and away we go. The snowball is not yet self sustaining.”
“Does anyone else get weirded out when he talks in metaphors like that?” the speechwriter said.
“No,” the others said in unison. They, unlike her, were true believers in what they were doing. She was being paid to be there and while her belief, or lack thereof, in their philosophy wasnt a dealbreaker, there were some moments when she made it apparent that she wasnt all the way inside.
“People are leaving the churches,” the boss said. “Statistics are showing an increase in belief in alternative structures and ours is one of the leading ones. Soon, it will all come tumbling down for the others, but we are still vulnerable today. Which means the plan is all the more important. Do not deviate. Soon we shall sit at the peak and the glory will be ours together.”
“Hear hear,” the room crowed.
It had been over a year of touring The Talk. The polished version of their spiel had been a winner across almost every demographic. Each time they announced a new talk, the venue sold out immediately. Essay after essay was published about them – some were still angry people sitting behind a keyboard, others were full of praise and encouragement to just listen to what they had to say. Even a significant member of the US political landscape, and presumed nominee for one of the major parties, professed a belief in what these people were saying. If this wasnt legitimate, there was no real meaning to the word.
He walked offstage to raucous applause. He could hear the chants of encore reverberating through the auditorium, but he would keep them waiting. They would come back tomorrow for the encore. He took his social media manager aside and whispered in her ear to tease something more in tomorrows talk. She nodded, a familiar true believer grin on her face, and ran off to do her job. It was the best idea he had ever had to keep her out of the loop. Make her a fan as well as an employee. If she was excited about something she didnt know, then the legions of followers would catch that same enthusiasm.
He stepped into the elevator and rode it up, without interruption, to the penthouse. It was a lavish space, filled with the expensive room service, including certain things that werent specifically on the menu. As he walked in, one such item was pulling her clothes back on and leaving. She nodded to him on the way out and gracefully took the tip he offered.
“Do not get carried away,” a voice said from further in the room. “These hedonistic ways will not last and if the world outside catches wind,” the speaker let the threat hang in the air.
“I am aware,” he said. “I am careful. Those women are paid well enough to keep their mouths shut and our information team knows enough to punish them if they do not.”
“It matters not,” the other person said. “We near the end of this stage of our plans.”
“Do we?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “We’re riding a wave of support right now, do we not want to keep that going?”
“We do, and we will,” the other speaker said, stepping out of the bathroom, wiping his hands.
He was a tall man, dressed in a well tailored, very expensive suit. He had a full beard, trimmed lightly and his eyes glowed with knowledge and authority. He was a good foot taller than the other man and solidly built.
“I dont believe weve met.”
“We have, briefly,” the suited man said. “Back in the beginning. At the Texan facility. I was one of the, hmm, what was I called? Investors?”
“Oh yes, perhaps I do remember. What can I do for you?”
“Very little, as it happens. In fact, I dont believe that there is anything you can do for me, specifically, at least. Youve done wonders already and I thought it might be a good time to come here and show you my appreciation.”
“Well, that is nice of you, but I dont need it. The work is enough for me.”
“Yes, of course,” the suited man nodded. “And the work has been done wonderfully. Our word is plastered across the world thanks, in large part, to you. But there has always been a goal, hasnt there? A reward for your hard work and now, I think, its time to receive yours.”
He was led out of the hotel, into a car and taken to the nearby airport. After a 12 hour flight on a private plane that had no markings at all on it, he arrived at a small island. He didnt know where. The sky was heavy and overcast and a few yards from the landing strip was a large stone, full of runes and carvings.
On either side of the stone were a half dozen people in deep red robes, hoods draped over to hide their faces. In front of the stone, in pride of place, was a cube of black rock, almost glasslike.
He was pushed out of the plane and he fell down the stairs, landing on his face on the tarmac.
Before he could speak, the suited man picked him up effortlessly and carried him, bleeding, to the glassy rock, laying his head in a dimple that had been worn into the top face of it.
He tried to speak, only managing to make a tired noise before spitting out blood as the robed figures began chanting.
“You have earned this,” the suited man said. He sounded grateful and humbled despite his actions. “One day I hope to be in your position. Ready to face what we have done. Now, go, sample what this world will encounter in short order.”