05-13-2014, 03:34 AM
Hasan pondered the foreigner's reply as they moved through the hallway. A swift motion of the hands got his bodyguard moving. There were a dozen of them just inside the hospital and at least four with eyes on him that he could see. The men in charge of the detail -- the ones now in charge -- had insisted on increasing the number of guards, and layers of protection, after the attack. Hasan had agreed only if they remained as unobtrusive as possible so that he wasn't smothered by a wall of security between himself and the rest of the world. They were marked in a way that Hasan would recognize them, but even Hasan didn't know how deeply protected he was, or how many were involved, and nor did he particularly wish to know. It was unsettling to allow his detail to invest such effort in keeping him protected rather than leave at least some trust in God's mercy. Although perhaps that was the manner of the Almighty's working to keep Hasan safe.
"Questions are a good thing,"
Hasan replied to the stranger. "How else are you to learn the truth of things? For the holy prophet has written, 'Wert thou to follow the common run of those on earth, they will lead thee away from the way of God. They follow nothing but conjecture: they do nothing but lie.'
You must question what you think you know to find the truth."
How much should he tell the man? Aside from the interest he showed in continuing the conversation, the foreigner was like a stone for all he'd reacted to their discussion. Hasan was not foolish enough to discount that the man was potentially spying. There was little he could say that would damage him. What would it matter now that Hasan had spent the better part of the last three years meeting with tribal leaders, organizing, gaining their trust? Or that there would always be more weapons in the Middle East than people to fire them, hidden away in cosmoleyne-soaked crates, buried in this village or the other. No one would ever be able to find them all. Or the fact that the survivors of insurgencies and violent wars of the Arab World up until the time of annexation were now leaders and elders, and made the perfect backbone of a standing army, if an unconventional one that still required further training and fleshing out. The only other people who had more experience in warfare were the Africans, and there were plenty of Muslims among them who were answering the pull to Mecca. These things should be intuitively obvious, so how could it hurt for this man to know these things? Certainly it was no secret that there were cities turning back to the will of God well before Hasan announced the directive to seize the ports of entry.
It was as if the last century of life in the Arab world was directed at preparing the faithful for throwing off the shackles they'd put on themselves. Almighty God had provided so much and would always provide what was needed to see His will done.
They came to a junction in the hallway. A woman covered appropriately in what was once white garb but was now quite bloodstained ran up the side corridor toward them with basins full of bloodstained rags and bandages. One came loose and wrapped itself around her foot, causing her to trip. The bandages went flying and struck the opposing wall just before they passed. She muttered an apology and set to cleaning them up. Hasan stooped and picked one of the errant bandages up for her, placing it in her now-empty basin.
“There are many things you do not understand,”
Hasan finally said to the stranger. “You do not see because you do not yet believe. The Muslim world has never been successfully ruled, except for when we ourselves, out of weakness and lack of faith, gave ourselves up to the Dominance. One out of five people on this planet claim to follow the path of submission to the will of God, the path of truth. God will provide for the faithful, even if we are outnumbered. But if you truly believe the odds are that lopsided, you have been deluded.”
Truthfully there were probably already more conscript-able males who would pledge to Hasan than there were in the CCD.
The woman muttered her thanks and ran off. And then Hasan noticed the wall. A large decorative map of the world had covered a six foot by nine foot section, and it was now covered with a bloody stain – but an interesting pattern emerged, like beams of red. No, it wasn't his imagination. Like the light of a perfectly symmetrical star, the lines radiated away from Mecca.
He turned away from the apparition, such things were not all that difficult to notice in everyday life if one took the care to look. “Perhaps you may come to believe once you see,”
he continued. “Of course you are not strong enough to face the Custody yourself. And you are likely stronger than I am. But I do not need to be strong. What is the strength of the Custody? Are you stronger than Nikolai Brandon? What is his strength? He is nothing more than a man whom others have cast their lot with and are willing to do violence on his behalf. If no one believed in his authority, his system would fall apart.
"Can you see how what you claim to be true does not match with reason? If you do not stand against the Custody, you stand with it. You cannot minimize the suffering of its people and not stand against it. You believe in the strength of the CCD. It is a flimsy belief. You believe the CCD is too strong to resist simply because you and others believe it to be so. If you were to stop believing this, it would no longer be the case. If you cannot conceive a greater power than the CCD, then it is your god. And it will fail you – utterly. Because I am telling you there is in fact a greater power. The power of Almighty God is limitless and enduring, timeless and true. And it is the only thing that will save the people from certain doom and destruction that these behemoths who would be gods will bring.”
They had reached the front doors almost without Hasan noticing. He flicked a few fingers forward to direct his lead bodyguards to go through while he strode just a few steps behind.
Likely Nikolai Brandon was watching updates from the comfort of his high perch, baffled at the notion that his attempt to supplant God didn't work, shocked and angry that the faithful had finally decided to reject his mortal graces. Likely he had failed to see this coming, even though it should have been obvious that such a thing would happen.
But his lack of understanding and absence of foresight was the problem. He simply wasn't the god that he thought he was.
"Questions are a good thing,"
Hasan replied to the stranger. "How else are you to learn the truth of things? For the holy prophet has written, 'Wert thou to follow the common run of those on earth, they will lead thee away from the way of God. They follow nothing but conjecture: they do nothing but lie.'
You must question what you think you know to find the truth."
How much should he tell the man? Aside from the interest he showed in continuing the conversation, the foreigner was like a stone for all he'd reacted to their discussion. Hasan was not foolish enough to discount that the man was potentially spying. There was little he could say that would damage him. What would it matter now that Hasan had spent the better part of the last three years meeting with tribal leaders, organizing, gaining their trust? Or that there would always be more weapons in the Middle East than people to fire them, hidden away in cosmoleyne-soaked crates, buried in this village or the other. No one would ever be able to find them all. Or the fact that the survivors of insurgencies and violent wars of the Arab World up until the time of annexation were now leaders and elders, and made the perfect backbone of a standing army, if an unconventional one that still required further training and fleshing out. The only other people who had more experience in warfare were the Africans, and there were plenty of Muslims among them who were answering the pull to Mecca. These things should be intuitively obvious, so how could it hurt for this man to know these things? Certainly it was no secret that there were cities turning back to the will of God well before Hasan announced the directive to seize the ports of entry.
It was as if the last century of life in the Arab world was directed at preparing the faithful for throwing off the shackles they'd put on themselves. Almighty God had provided so much and would always provide what was needed to see His will done.
They came to a junction in the hallway. A woman covered appropriately in what was once white garb but was now quite bloodstained ran up the side corridor toward them with basins full of bloodstained rags and bandages. One came loose and wrapped itself around her foot, causing her to trip. The bandages went flying and struck the opposing wall just before they passed. She muttered an apology and set to cleaning them up. Hasan stooped and picked one of the errant bandages up for her, placing it in her now-empty basin.
“There are many things you do not understand,”
Hasan finally said to the stranger. “You do not see because you do not yet believe. The Muslim world has never been successfully ruled, except for when we ourselves, out of weakness and lack of faith, gave ourselves up to the Dominance. One out of five people on this planet claim to follow the path of submission to the will of God, the path of truth. God will provide for the faithful, even if we are outnumbered. But if you truly believe the odds are that lopsided, you have been deluded.”
Truthfully there were probably already more conscript-able males who would pledge to Hasan than there were in the CCD.
The woman muttered her thanks and ran off. And then Hasan noticed the wall. A large decorative map of the world had covered a six foot by nine foot section, and it was now covered with a bloody stain – but an interesting pattern emerged, like beams of red. No, it wasn't his imagination. Like the light of a perfectly symmetrical star, the lines radiated away from Mecca.
He turned away from the apparition, such things were not all that difficult to notice in everyday life if one took the care to look. “Perhaps you may come to believe once you see,”
he continued. “Of course you are not strong enough to face the Custody yourself. And you are likely stronger than I am. But I do not need to be strong. What is the strength of the Custody? Are you stronger than Nikolai Brandon? What is his strength? He is nothing more than a man whom others have cast their lot with and are willing to do violence on his behalf. If no one believed in his authority, his system would fall apart.
"Can you see how what you claim to be true does not match with reason? If you do not stand against the Custody, you stand with it. You cannot minimize the suffering of its people and not stand against it. You believe in the strength of the CCD. It is a flimsy belief. You believe the CCD is too strong to resist simply because you and others believe it to be so. If you were to stop believing this, it would no longer be the case. If you cannot conceive a greater power than the CCD, then it is your god. And it will fail you – utterly. Because I am telling you there is in fact a greater power. The power of Almighty God is limitless and enduring, timeless and true. And it is the only thing that will save the people from certain doom and destruction that these behemoths who would be gods will bring.”
They had reached the front doors almost without Hasan noticing. He flicked a few fingers forward to direct his lead bodyguards to go through while he strode just a few steps behind.
Likely Nikolai Brandon was watching updates from the comfort of his high perch, baffled at the notion that his attempt to supplant God didn't work, shocked and angry that the faithful had finally decided to reject his mortal graces. Likely he had failed to see this coming, even though it should have been obvious that such a thing would happen.
But his lack of understanding and absence of foresight was the problem. He simply wasn't the god that he thought he was.