True religion, in its purest form, had been discarded for human reason. Man had substituted his own form of morality, becoming a god in his own mind. The world was opening on a new, more advanced period. They would reign supreme, reducing all to ashes to build their altars to themselves. The gods of pleasure, of lust, and of greed were all commonplace. No one cared for the old dribble of out-dated texts and prophets: Except one.
Martin Dobler lived in a small apartment with a pile of junk in his over-stuffed closet and state-of-the art technology from ten years ago. He went out rarely, and when he did he almost always wore his dark-green parka with a hood pulled up to hide the greater part of his visage.
His socks never matched, and his black shoes were in need of a good shining. Light brown curls stuck out at all angles from the top of his head, and his wintry blue eyes always sparkled slightly. His facial hair was uneven, making him appear slightly mad, but he was quite sane nonetheless. Facial hair is not always the best indicator of one’s sanity.
He wore sandals year-round to give him a more Middle-Eastern perspective on life, but he made sure never to wear socks with them. This made him a rather agreeable type of person.
He stopped promptly at all, “Don’t Walk,” signs and always left elbow room for those around him. He was always around and near other human beings, but he seemed to be more of an observer than a participant.
As he set out on his way to the “Olde Trinkets Shoppe,” he pulled his hood up around his face. A man in a stunningly brilliant navy blue suit with contrastingly dark and sinister features strolled by on his left, muttering something.
Martin thought he heard the man say, “He doesn’t know we’re onto him, Jim,” and give Martin a sideways glance, but the man continued on his way, increasing the distance between himself and Martin.
When Martin entered the store it was to hear the familiar, magical ring of the handcrafted Indonesian bell which hearkened his entrance. The shopkeeper, a surprisingly young and chipper man who was too high on life to think ill of anyone, glanced up from the newspaper he had been perusing to spy Martin.
“Why, Martin, my good man, how are you today? I haven’t anything new of interest to you but I do love your poking around. A man who knows his tidbits and whatsits is always welcome around here!” Martin grinned a full grin and practically leapt over the countertop in his excitement. He was a bottle of energy with the top on, threatening to explode.
“Charles, a pleasure as always,” Martin greeted him, extending a warm hand of welcome. The two shook hands heartily and Charles was off on a speech of unending energy and excitement.
“Just the other day an old bloke came in and questioned me about you—I thought it was strange that someone would keep tabs on a common good fellow like yourself, so I told him squarely that I didn’t share information about my friends to strangers and you know what he said? He said I was giving lip to the wrong man and he could have me locked up for any reason he liked, that I was to tell him what your habits were, who you knew, and why you rarely left your house. I wasn’t going to tell him anything, understand, but then he gets this look in his eye like he’s a wise grandfather or something and then he tells me I would be doing you a dishonor to withhold information from him. He said you were in for a reward of some kind. Isn’t that great?” Charles ended with a light chuckle and reached over the countertop to clap Martin on the shoulder.
“Just what did you tell him?” Martin questioned seriously, working hard to fend off a furrowed brow.
“Oh, let me see,” Charles bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “I told him about your visits to me, the types of things you seemed interested in, that you were a man that mostly minded his own things and not other peoples, and that, all in all, I wasn’t sure why you did the things you did only I knew that you felt strongly that you had to stick to your faith and the way God is leading you. Isn’t that how you put it?”
“Charles, this is important,” Martin gulped, grabbing the wrist of the other man’s cuff anxiously, “what did the man say when you mentioned God?”
“Martin, I wouldn’t worry about that, he didn’t seem offended by your faith like most people would be,” Charles reassured him. “He just nodded real slowly and smiled, thanking me for my time and trouble. He promised to return in a few days, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”
“Charles, I may need to go somewhere. You are the only friend I have because of my faith. Don’t tell this man anything more. I am almost certain I have been found out and that they intend to “enlighten me” as they have done to the rest of the population. I just need to ask you for one thing: that small, dusty mirror you keep behind your desk.”
