The Damn Disciples (14 page)

“This is Pod number 47,” the guards said as they walked Stone into the room. “Where is there a free bed?”

“Here,” one of them spoke up, apparently the Group Leader, as he wore a gray robe while Stone and all the other new inductees,
the lowest of the pecking order, wore brown.

“You will come here,” the Group Leader leader said, taking Stone by the ear, squeezing hard and pulling him down the middle
aisle all the way to the back. “The top bed is yours,” he said, releasing Stone’s ear. Stone stood in front of him, not moving,
having a hard time focusing his eyes on one spot long enough to see anything. “You are Pod number 47. You will do nothing
without being told to do it by me. I am Group Leader. You will not shit, sleep, or eat without command. Do you understand
all this, Pod number 47?”

“Yes, Group Leader,” Stone said, sorry that he had angered the Group Leader, though he did not quite know how he had done
so. “I will do nothing without your permission.”

“Now, climb up on your bed and sit there. Do not move,” the Group Leader said as he turned and walked back up to the front
of the room. Stone somehow dragged himself up the side of the bunk, where there was a small but rickety ladder. His hands
and legs weren’t working too well. The drugs, aside from affecting his brain, also didn’t do wonders for his whole nervous
and muscular system. Everything felt as if it was out of sync, like if he told his body to move his right hand it might just
as easily twitch his left big toe. His signals, to say the least, were crossed up.

They sat there on the sides of their beds, their legs dangling over for nearly an hour, though none of them had much concept
of time. Under the brainwashing and the constant stream of drugs into their bodies, time was nonexistent. For they had no
pasts—or futures. Only the dreamy, fog-enshrouded eternal now. After an indeterminate time, the Group Leader paraded up and
down the rows cracking them each on the head with a long stick.

“Move, you worthless pods,” he screamed as he smashed at them, though none could really feel all that much pain with all the
junk in their bloodstreams. Still, like frightened dogs, they scurried along down the center aisle and out of the building.
Stone was the last and took a good shot on the back of the head that he felt even through the golden he. The Group Leader
led them down a street, where they passed the late-afternoon workers coming in from the surrounding forests. A whole line
of elephants, a dozen or more, were hauling forty-foot logs as the construction around the place continued. Somewhere inside
Stone’s rational self, a spark the size of a pinhead wondered where all the fucking elephants were coming from. But the question
wasn’t even acknowledged by the “cleansed” portion.

The Group Leader led them to a dining building where other cultees were already sitting, these all of higher ranks, with gray,
even a few black, robes. The pods were all taken to one side of the long mess hall. Their section was screened off, as the
highest ranks didn’t like having to see the slobberings of the newest recruits. The Group Leader marched them around the table
and then commanded them all to sit. They sat down, facing one another from a few feet across the table. Not a face showed
any friendship, or fear. Nothing. They were like mirrors facing one another, each reflecting the other but offering nothing
of its own.

Stone was staring into the face of a badly burned man whose vacuum eyes were trained right on Stone’s now. They looked at
each other’s noses for a good five minutes, Stone getting lost in the dripping nostrils. Suddenly there was a clanking sound,
and metal cups were put out in front of them. These were quickly filled with Golden Nectar, which was poured from a large
pitcher by the kitchen staff. The Group Leader ordered them to drink. And watched care-fy, to make sure every drop was
swallowed by every mouth.

Then they were allowed to eat. Other servants carried loads of gruel and watery soup around to their tables. Though few of
them were hungry. But the Group Leader commanded them, “Eat!” And they did so, letting their arms drop, grabbing a piece of
bread, dipping it mechanically in pasty gravy and then lifting it into their mouths. Their jaws chewed repetitively over and
over without the slightest sense of taste or enjoyment. They ate because the Group Leader commanded them to. And he ordered
them to because their bodies would die without sustenance. And the Guru needed their strong bodies for his holy works.

When they were done, they were led back to the barracks as the sunset died out to an inky blackness that suffused the sky.
There were few lights around the place. The authorities didn’t care whether their underlings smashed into things or not. Devotees
were a lot more expendable than the fuel needed to maintain lights. The Group Leader led them back down the main street at
a slow gait. He had lost two pods in the last week already. The dumb bastards had walked right into the sides of buildings,
smashed their faces up so bad they were useless. Pods without the proper guidance were like chickens with their heads cut
off.

He led them back into the bunkhouse and headed them back to the various beds like infants who didn’t quite know where to go
or what to do. Once they were all sitting on their mattresses, the Group Leader stood at the front of the log room and screamed
out.

“Sleep!” He waited a few seconds, making sure they had heard. “Lie down,” he bellowed again, and they all followed his orders.
“Close your eyes.” And like good and obedient children, they did close them. And lay there in stupors. Comas without dreams,
cessation of activity without rest, sleep without peace.

When Stone awoke the next morning, someone was banging on his head, a voice was screaming into his ear. His eyes slowly opened,
though they sure as hell didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like anything, didn’t even feel human. Just a fuzzy dumb thing that
followed the commands that were given it.

“Rise, rise, you worthless pods,” the Group Leader yelled as he rushed around, smacking at all of them, forcing them from
their beds so that some crashed out onto the wooden floor cracking things here and there.

“When a Group Leader commands you, you will obey at once! Do you hear me, pods?”

“Yes, Group Leader,” they all answered back though some could hardly mumble the words, their mouths open with a constant stream
of saliva coming out like an old alcoholic. One of the side effects of the large amounts of drugs in the Nectar was a problem
with many of the bodily functions. Drooling, vomiting, pissing, shitting in pants and bed were not uncommon. Group Leader
led them down the street to a circular wooden building about forty feet in diameter. Inside were other pods, already down
on their knees as they prostrated themselves before the image of the Guru, with a huge rainbow aura behind him.

“Bow down on your knees, scum,” the Group Leader screamed, kicking and smacking them as he led them to the altar, where candles
were burning all around the six-foot-high portrait of Guru Yasgar behind glass.

“Thank you, oh Great Yasgar, for perfecting our imperfections,” the Group Leader intoned.

“Oh, thank you, Great…” they all mumbled after him, their faces squashed down into the wooden floor.

“And though I am a worthless scum floating on a swamp…”

“I am worthless scum floating on…” Stone muttered vacantly after the rest of them.

“Still, I am grateful for the love that Guru Yasgar has shown for me.”

“Gradeful for love that Yasgar has thrown me,” Stone mumbled incoherently, letting his lips go slack as soon as he was done.

“Now rise, worms, and have your morning Nectar.” As Stone rose up, he was handed a goblet from one of the robes who walked
around dispensing the “cleansing” water. Again they drank it down under the watchful eyes of the Group Leader. Then they were
all led outside again. They were taken along the main street, and as they came to different buildings the Group Leader would
take some of the pods and direct them through the doors, where they would be put to work at different tasks. The Guru harnessed
their abilities. That was, after all, their great “contribution” to the cult. Their work would enable Yasgar to expand his
cult into the surrounding mountains, then the state, then… All of them were left off at one place or another until the only
one left was Stone and the Group Leader.

“Come with me, Pod number 47,” the Group Leader said, whacking Stone along the shoulder with his stick. “You shall be given
a most prestigious job—that of stirring the Golden Elixir.“ He led Stone for about five blocks, until they came to a windowless
building with guards all around it. The place had the best security in the whole town. The Group Leader gave a signal to the
guards and 1 ed Stone inside to along warehouse-type setup with huge canisters, vials, powders all over the place with chemical
names stamped in red letters on their sides. In the center of the floor were two immense stainless-steel vats a good ten feet
high, perhaps six wide, with platforms built around their tops. And on one of the wooden platforms was a robed man, a gray
robe, walking around the platform with a huge paddle dug into the vat, which he stirred.

“This, Pod number 47, is where the sacred Golden Nectar is made.” Stone looked on dumbly as he saw an elephant appear from
out of the shadows at the end and pick up a large black canister. It walked with the thing in its trunk up to the vat where
the man was stirring, and holding it up, shook some of the green powder into the brew until its handler, riding on its back,
kicked it on both ears twice and it stopped pouring, turned, and set the canister back down.

“You see, Pod number 47,” the Group Leader said, leading Stone up the wooden stairs that led to the platform around the lip
of the unmanned vat. ”We keep this brewing operation going twenty-four hours a day. Or how would we supply the at need we
have for the God-given liquid? You will work a twelve-hour shift, then be relieved. This is your new job, Pod number 47. You
are fortunate indeed. It usually takes brownies, stage four, many months to attain this high station.”

“I am a worthless worm,” Stone began, though it wasn’t he who spoke. Rather it was some drugged-out part of him that had taken
possession of his mind and body. “I do not deserve such an honor, Group Leader.”

“That is absolutely correct, Pod number 47,” the Group Leader replied as he reached the top of the platform. He and Stone
stepped onto it and looked down into the cauldron filled with thick liquid. “But the Guru has entrusted you with this job
because he knows you can do it.” Stone looked down into the boiling vat of gunk. It was yellowish, the consistency of tapioca
pudding.

“Once the fires are turned on underneath,” the Group Leader said, reaching down and igniting a jet that instantly lit a whole
set of burners beneath the vat, “you must not stop stirring until the flame is turned off again—or someone relieves you here.
Or the Nectar will burn. The sacred drink will burn. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Pod number 47, the seriousness
of this job?”

“Yes, Group Leader,” Stone replied, already feeling dizzy from the fumes arising from the vat.

“Now, all you must do is walk around the vat and stir with this paddle.” He demonstrated, slowly moving around the platform
as he dug the long aluminum canoe paddle deep into the drug mush so every bit of it was stirred around like a chef making
stew for a giant.

“Now you try it, Pod number 47,” he said after about twenty seconds.

Stone took the canoe paddle, and felt nervous. He was such a worthless piece of spit. He could not handle such an important
job. It was too hard, too complicated for his mind to understand. But the loud crack of the Group Leader’s stick right over
the bridge of his no, which sent a jolt of pain even through the drug fog, made Stone start walking. He held the canoe paddle
hard because the stuff below was so thick that it kept threatening to suck the whole implement down. With the flames on, the
cauldron of yellow gunk began to bubble quickly, and Stone could see what the Group Leader had meant about the stuff burning.
For he had to stir faster and harder to keep it from coagulating on the bottom and along the sides. It was hard, straining
his tired arms and brain to their limits.

The Group Leader stood behind him, following Stone around the platform like his shadow for about ten minutes as the liquid
gradually changed from yellow to gold and grew thinner in texture. Stone’s stirring and the heat broke up the various powders
that were in it and evened the consistency. Suddenly, from above, on a wooden platform that Stone hadn’t seen before, a foreman
ran over and looked down into Stone’s vat.

“That’s it—you’re cooked,” he screamed out, motioning for Stone to turn down the flame. Stone looked confused, but the Group
Leader showed him how to reach down and turn the gas knob to the left. It seemed like quantum physics to Stone’s tortured
mind. But he tried to learn it. He knew they were depending on him. It was a very important job.

With the gas jet down, the Group Leader motioned for Stone to step back. The elephant walked forward, around the front, and
grabbed hold of the great vat. Placing its trunk over one edge, it pulled the whole thing over so it swiveled on huge bolts,
and poured the mixture into a long trough, where it flowed away bubbling like lava from a volcano. The trough automatically
fed the Nectar into rows of bottles all lined up with little funnels in their openings. The whole thing was very ingenious,
allowing a few men and an elephant to make vast quantities of the stuff so that other pods could just come in and take the
bottles off for the constant mouths that had to be fed.

“Good, Pod number 47. Now the elephant will refill the vat with the right proportion of chemicals,” the Group Leader said
as Stone watched the elephant pull the now-empty vat back upright so it locked into place on some catches. The huge beast
headed back about fifty feet over to a wall, directed by the gray robe atop it. The trunk wrapped around a green barrel, and
the elephant walked quickly back to the vat above which Stone stood. It emptied the powder in until the canister was empty,
then went back for another.