text: 1,206 words by john t. dylan Bishop Timothy Martin sat behind his old oak desk and stared at all the books on the walls surrounding him. Each wall was lined top to bottom with books, a most valuable resource. These books were all written on religion and philosophy, suited to his position. They were aged and dying, the pre-War people's with all their great powers over the world had not thought to make the most primitive of sources of knowledge built to last. In his readings, he often wondered about that oversight. Then again, he wondered about the oversight that led to the Final War, and left civilization in shambles. By the Harris City record, it had been almost 200 years since the war had ended. All at once technology stopped working, and people just began to starve. Then the Killing Rains came for two years. After that, nothing. Harris City had survived simply by having the right number of guns and farmers, led by a powerful Catholic priest named Emanuel Harris. Having no contact with the Vatican in 200 years, certain adjustments to scripture had been made. As Harris himself wrote, “Clearly there was more to Revelation that I believed.” Now Timothy held the position of bishop, and guarded his precious books like a mother badger protects her young from harm. Timothy had been a teacher before he had taken the position as bishop. He was an educated man, having studied at the only known university within safe riding distance. After a few years of teaching he turned to the church and was quickly promoted through the ranks due to his knowledge. By forty five he was bishop of Harris, the second highest position in the known lands of Catholicism. Today he was supposed to meet with one of his field researchers. He had some promising reports about some major prewar event that they are unaware of. He wondered what the young researcher had discovered. He paced the room, waiting. The old pocket watch hanging from his waist told him that it would be an hour still before young James would arrive with his report. He reached out and gently stroked his books, finally selecting a favorite tome on theology before returning to his perch behind his desk. When James knocked on the door Timothy had to pull himself out of a deep section on the dual nature of Christ. “Come in,” he said. In walked James. He was in his thirties and excited by the promise of discovering relics from the past. He was always seeking information that the people's before the Final War might not have understood to be signs from Revelation. He carried with him a large cloth bag with numerous objects in it, looking to be books. “Your grace, I have made a remarkable discovery that may very well be the biggest discovery since the time of the Killing Rains. I believe I have found records of the Antichrist.” Timothy closed his book with the utmost care, then said, “You have my full attention.” “Ok, I've only been studying this for a few days before I hurried back here to report. We found a stash of books and holy symbols, elaborate ritual clothing and hats, many painted books of stories, and some sort of ancient device that has survived the Last War all involving a mysterious figure. I believe the device speaks for itself. Shall I show it to you, your grace?” asked James. “Yes, by all means, my son,” Timothy was indeed interested in this device. No one had ever heard of one still working. James pulled out a slender, rectangular shape from the bag. He then slid a switch on one side so that it opened like a book. On the upper inside was a shiny plate and below it several symbols. “After some experimentation, I got it to do this,” he said and pushed a green arrow pointing right on the device. Displayed on the glowing surface was an image, which seemed to move for a few moments before repeating from the beginning. Although there were fractures on the material showing the images, there was no mistaking what was being shown. A man, with black hair and a blue and red suit with a red cape, emblazoned with an “S” on his chest and cape, flying through the air. Bishop Martin was stunned. After collecting his thoughts, he said, “Tell me everything you know.” “Well,” James began, “I found a site with a shelter that had probably come open during the last series of earthquakes a few months back. Inside we found all sorts of clothing paying homage to this figure. It seems that he claimed to be from another world. It is quite amazing. I've brought you some of the best finds in the area. Perfectly preserved. It seems the priest that was living there never took any sort of food with him. Very strange. He had some sort of weakness, but we're not really sure what to make of it. Plus there are conflicting stories we've found. I have three of my best assistants currently working on the bulk of the material. I've simply brought you some of the more durable materials for your personal perusal.” “Have you told anyone?” asked Bishop Martin. James hesitated and looked down, “Only my assistants and my confessor.” “Your confessor?” “Yes... I... I just felt that I wished I had gotten to be alive to see Kal-El. I felt as though it were a sin, so I confessed it during my travels back to the capital here to Father Drake.” James looked up, “Have I made an error?” Bishop Martin thought about the missive he would have to write and send off to Drake, but that was no real worry. Drake would be wise enough to keep this matter to himself until the Church had time to address it. “No, no... just who is Kal-El?” asked Bishop Martin. “The Antichrist, your grace. The one with the S on his chest. He came as a friend but we've found some records of him destroying large areas and doing horrific things. It is all in the report. I just feel like the world was such a better place back then. There were people everywhere, and the fields and lands were green and lush. But they began to worship Kal-El. They wore his symbol, they praised his name. He took the place of God.” “I see,” Bishop Martin nodded. “You must go back and continue your research. Leave the device with me, I'll show it to the other bishops when I call a council. We must spread the word, this Kal-El could still be out there. We need all the information you can find. But tell no one. Take a new horse and leave immediately, I want to know everything.” “Yes your grace, as you speak it so shall it be,” Peter replied and walked out of the office. Bishop Martin, once alone, pushed the green triangle and watched the image for a few moments longer. *How did the clergy not see the giant 'S' for Satan emblazoned on his chest and back? Were they blind?* Staring at the image, he murmured aloud, “So the Antichrist's name is Kal-El.