The Great Immortal

During my travels, I came across another church. Entering, I inquired after their leader.

“I am a disciple, hoping to learn the history and beliefs of your religion.”

The woman I spoke to was kind, leaving me at the door to see if the leader of this church was available to take visitors. Soon, she returned and invited me in. Leading me through the dusty hallway, she pointed out a few things. She pointed out the church’s nursery, a large empty room littered with toys and lined by cribs. She also pointed out the donation box, where kindhearted souls could drop money or other offerings to help the church and those in need. Finally, we arrived at an old wooden door, the last one to the left of the dusty hall she had taken me through. She knocked on the door, and a voice cried out from within.

“Send them in.”

The woman opened the door and ushered me inside. I found myself in a dark and dingy office, where an elderly man greeted me. He wore a white button-down and a black tie, with blue jeans peeking out as he stood from his old wooden desk to shake my hand. His grip was firm, his eyes kind, and his smile warm, but there was a weariness in his posture.

“Good Afternoon,” he said, settling back into his brown leather office chair, “I’m Pastor Bao, and I’m the head pastor of this church. And you are?” His voice was deep and resonant.

“Ideimin,” I responded. Pastor Bao gestured to an old, overstuffed chair next to me. Taking a seat in it, I looked around the old office.

It was green and brown, with dark wooden baseboards covering the bottom of the peeling green wallpaper. To the right of the desk was a dusty shelf filled with dustier books, both of which looked as though they hadn’t been touched in years. Behind Pastor Bao was a shuttered window, a tan blind blocking most of the sunlight out of the dim room. Bao’s desk sat in the middle of the square room, an old, tired-looking wooden desk littered with papers, pens, and books. The air was heavy with the scent of old books and dust, and the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

The room felt as though it once was grand, but now all it was was tired and spent, like an elderly man resting in an armchair, the days of his youth long gone.

Turning back to Bao, I tried to think of a good question.

“How long have you worked here, sir?” I asked.

The elderly man leaned back in his chair and looked me in the eyes. After a pause, he responded.

“I’ve lead this church for 54 years. The Great Immortal brought me here when I was a young man fresh out of school, and here I have stayed. My secretary tells me you want to learn about the Great Immortal?”

I nodded.

“I’m looking for his followers.”

Pastor Bao smiled, fidgeting with the papers on his desk as he put on an air of importance beyond what the old office allowed.

“Well, my son, you have come to the right place. My church is one of the last bastions of the Great Immortal’s followers.”

“But there are many temples worldwide aren’t there?” I asked.

Bao laughed.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. Those temples worship the Great Immortal in name only. Only our church and our small circle of brothers know the true nature of him and his followers,” he said.

I leaned forward, the chair creaking under my weight, and returned his smile.

“Is that so?”

His smile grew broader.

“It’s tragic, but the temples use a corrupted version of the Immortal Text. That’s why they can excuse their grandiose building projects and obscene salaries. The Great Immortal taught us to live frugally and to unite with our true brothers to provide the needy what they require.”

Out of all of my travels, Pastor Bao was showing the most promise. Keeping my face calm and still, I responded.

“Interesting,” I said, trying to hide my eagerness. “Do you happen to have a copy of the Immortal Text I can use? The one I got from the temples confused me, so if you have the uncorrupted version…”

“Say no more, my son,” Bao said, standing from his chair. He hurried to the dusty shelf and pulled out a cheap-looking book. Brushing it off with his hand, he stepped around his desk and held it out for me. Taking it, I noticed that it felt strangely light. The cover was a thin paper, and the pages were rough and uneven. I imagined that the cost of making this copy was much lower than the ornate version that the leader of the last temple gave me.

“Thank you,” I said, flipping through the book. Bao nodded and returned to his seat as I read a few short passages. Apparently noticing my confusion, he spoke again after a few moments of silence.

“Is there something you need help understanding?” He asked.

“No…No, it’s just so different from the ones I’ve read in the past.”

“That’s because this is the pure one,” Bao said again.

“I see.”

Bao noticed the disappointment in my voice. Leaning forward, he gave me another of his toothy grins.

“The Immortal Text is a complex book; don’t be discouraged if you find it confusing or strange at first. Understanding will come in time.”

I nodded and placed the book in my lap. Looking at Bao, I asked my next question.

“How do I follow the Great Immortal?”

Bao stood again and stepped around his desk, gesturing for me to stand; he smiled.

“That question is better answered with a tour. Would you have the time, Mr…”

“Idimen,” I reminded him, “I would love a tour.”

Standing, I followed Bao as he led me out of his office and down the dark and dingy halls of the old building. The lack of natural light made my skin crawl, and the dust floated in the harsh artificial light of the halls and rooms.

“How frequently do you clean?” I asked, failing to hide the disgust in my voice.

Bao shook his head and sighed, wiping one of the dusty walls with his sleeve.

“Unfortunately, we have not been able to afford the cleaning services we used to use, so we’ve been forced to allow the less-used parts of the building to fall into slight disrepair.”

I nodded, looking at the dust-free area Bao had just ‘cleaned.’

“The Temples are usually kept spotless. I can’t imagine that your congregation–” I began.

“That’s because the Temples are more concerned with the things of this world than the things of the world to come.” Bao interrupted, “They want to show off their money and political power instead of focusing on the Text of the Great Immortal as we do.”

“Yes, but letting your church look like this? Wouldn’t it discourage people interested in joining if they see how poorly the building is being treated?”

“If the Spirit of the Great Immortal settles on them, they would be able to look past the surface grime to the pure heart held within it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Bao turned around and looked at me, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Do you have another idea of which is more important?” he asked.

I stepped back, looking past the pastor and into the dirty church.

“No, Sorry.”

“Your apology is accepted, my son. The way of the Great Immortal will guide you away from these questions with time.”

I turned over this statement in my mind as he continued the tour of the dirty, dimly-lit church. I looked at the book in my hand, feeling the lightweight material as I followed the elderly man down the halls. If this church believed that the Great Immortal guided people away from questions, how would they learn? How do they express themselves?

I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp look from Bao told me that my comments would not be appreciated. So, with my heart breaking, I let him lead me through the building and toward the main hall of the congregation.

A beautiful, if faded, mural stood behind the pulpit in the dusty sanctuary. The Great Immortal stood with a sad smile, dressed in the golden robe he had apparently become known for over the centuries. The golden halo around his pale white face highlighted his holiness. I looked at the mural with the interest and awe that I had felt looking at the statues, paintings, and other expressions of his form.

His left hand pointed upwards towards the heavens, and at his right hand sat a shorter man with jet-black hair, sharply contrasting the white hair of the Great Immortal. The golden halo around his face matched that around the Immortal’s, and his left hand pointed up into the air as well, causing his silver robes to bunch up around his elbow.

Belinan.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Bao smiled.

“That is the Great Immortal, my son.” He responded.

“And the man on the right?”

“That is Belinan, his greatest and truest disciple.”

A hollow feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.

“The greatest, you say?” I asked.

“Yes,” Bao said. He quickly climbed the stairs to the pulpit and picked up the heavy, ornate Immortal Text, “You see, when the Great Immortal died, they gave charge of his followers to Belinan, instructing their other three disciples to work and worship under him. Unfortunately, the great schism occurred soon after the Immortal’s death, where the other three rebelled against the Immortal’s wishes and attempted to take command of their following. There were attempts to live in peace with the various sects, but soon, it became clear that the other sects had fallen so far from the way that it was dangerous to yolk ourselves with them. We feared being pulled off the path.”

“Do you believe that the Great Immortal, whose message was unity and equality, selected one man to be above the rest?”

“Belinan was not above the other members of the Immortal’s following my son,” Bao responded, “He simply stood before them and led them as the Great Immortal began his journey to the afterlife.”

“That’s what the Great Schism was, though? Those who followed Belinan and those who didn’t?”

“It was more complicated than that.”

“Then please, explain it to me.”

“That’s far too complex for someone new to the following.” Bao responded, replacing the book on the pulpit, “You don’t understand the power of the Great Immortal or their choices. If you come to some of our services, I’m sure you will quickly learn that–”

“I don’t care how complex it is.” I interrupted, “The Great Schism occurred because the followers of Belian twisted the instruction of the Great Immortal to ascribe him more power than was due.”

Bao looked at me with shock and anger in his eyes. Part of my heart broke for him; he was simply following what he had been taught, but there was nothing to be done.

“If you read the Immortal Text, you will see–” He stuttered.

“This Immortal text is corrupted and twisted. Like all of the others that I have encountered upon my return.” I interrupted.

Bao’s eyes widened as they were opened to the truth. I changed to match the vision of me they had in the mural behind the pulpit. My blonde hair was bleached to white, and my ratty clothes turned to a golden robe. I stood before this leader, watching his response as his god appeared before his eyes.

“Great Im-Imortal.” he stuttered, dropping to his knees, “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry.”

“My Son.” I said, kneeling to join him on the floor, “It is I who should be sorry. I left my followers to prepare a place before they were ready. You did not twist my word into what it is today. You only learned the way that your ancestors taught you.”

Bao sobbed on the floor of the dusty sanctuary as I stood again. Turning, I walked back through the dirty halls, wondering how my followers had twisted my words into the messes I encountered on my travels.

======

The time of my death was drawing near. Calling for my disciples, they knelt at my bedside. They were scared, unsure of what they were seeing. The Great Immortal lay before them, weak and elderly, his tired heart beating through the last of its assigned time on this earth.

I knew their thoughts. They wondered how the Great Immortal could die like this, old and broken, seemingly a mere shadow of his former self, the self that had called them to follow.

“My children.” I rasped, “Do not fear. Death has no power over me. Where I am going, you will soon follow. I will prepare a place for you to live with me and the King of All forever. Trust in me, and believe in my commands.”

The four of them wept by my bedside: Ganser, Axion, Belian, and Xanin. My words comforted them, but they could not comprehend their true meanings.

“Listen carefully,” I said, “My preparations for you will be long, and several of my followers, both born and not yet born, will follow me in this way before I return for the souls of those left alive. You must work together to lead my followers and pass down my teachings to those who have never seen my face. For the time will come when I will return, searching for those who followed my path and bringing them to the new world. Those who deviate from my path and break from the unity that I laid before them will be left in the old world, where I and the King of All will abandon them to live the rest of their days in misery. Lead as one, following in my light so you may be counted as my followers when the day comes.”

They responded in unison.

“Yes, Teacher.”

I touched their heads, first Belian, for he was closest to where I rested my arm, then Axion, Ganser, and Finally Xanin, for whom I was forced to sit up upon my bed.

Laying my head on my pillows, my heart gave its final beat as my spirit was returned to the King of All. Below me, on the earth that I left behind, my weeping disciples began their ministry, following my teachings as they led others to the path I had set before them. I began my work as well, building a city for those who followed me outside the court of the King of All.

Xanin was the first, her spirit giving out forty years after mine. She was sent into the City, and as she did on earth, she assisted me.

Ganser was the second, his spirit giving out seventy years after mine. He was sent into the City, and as he did on earth, he assisted me.

Axion was the third, their spirit giving out eighty years after mine. They were sent into the City, and as they did on earth, they assisted me.

Belian was the last, his spirit giving out one hundred years after mine. He was sent into the City, and as he did on earth, he assisted me.

In the years before Belian’s death, 400 followers entered the City, and in the years that followed, 40,000 more entered. Only after I had been gone from the earth for 2,000 years did the followers stop filling the city limits.

======

3,000 years after leaving my earthly body behind, I returned to find my followers and bring them to the City I and my disciples had built. However, I discovered that unity among those who claim to be my disciples had been destroyed, and my words had been twisted in so many different directions that those who tried to follow me could not find the path I had laid out.

Returning to my mortal form, I sat on the church’s steps and wept.

I wept for those who were to be left behind, for the rooms in my City that were to remain empty for all time, and for the new earth which would lack those who I was sent to gather.

Drying my tears, I left my mortal form behind again and ascended back to the court of the King of All. Knocking upon the gates, they were opened for me. The King of All stood at the gateway with my disciples and all that had found their way down the path before it got too twisted.

“Where are the people?” Belian asked.

“There were great splits among those who claimed to be my followers.” I said, “I searched the earth from the largest city to the smallest home, yet nobody truly kept what I had taught.”

“But what of those who built the churches and temples in your name?” Axion asked.

“The temples they built do not worship me or follow in my ways. They are temples to the twisted remains of the Immortal Text, not to me or my path.”

“Is there anything that can be done to bring them back to the path?” Ganser asked.

“No, the time has come for the new earth to be created and populated. Those left on the old earth are left without hope. Their ancestors took the path from them, dooming them to be left behind.”

“What is to happen to them now?” Xanin asked.

“The temples will burn with the brothels, and the churches will be torn apart as though they were made of paper. Those false children will cry out to the King of All and to me, but we will not hear, nor will we help. We will reside in the new earth, and the old shall pass away like a memory.”

The Disciples and followers wept with me for the destruction of the old earth. After the weeping ended, we entered the gate into the King of All’s Court, and the gate was barred behind us. Emblazoned above it were these words:

At This court’s gate, a solemn decree,

no more entry, no more to see.

The golden glow dims and fades

as disciples wept in silent cascades.

“No More,” the Immortal softly cries,

as souls below may wonder why,

“The gate is barred, the path denied,

to sacred halls, where we abide.”

For time has come to close the door,

no welcome here, forevermore.

The ledger full, the list complete,

No more footsteps, no more feet.

The court will sigh one final breath

“You mortal hearts, confront your death.”

No more access, no more grace,

from this eternal resting place.

My followers returned to the City with me, and soon, the perils of the old earth were long forgotten.

However, for many years after the gates were closed, we would hear the sound of weeping from outside the walls.